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    In this work, all spellings and punctuation were
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    In the original book set, consisting of three volumes,
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                *       *       *       *       *

                       The Greville Memoirs

                     A JOURNAL OF THE REIGNS
                                of
                         KING GEORGE IV.
                               and
                         KING WILLIAM IV.


                           By the Late
                   CHARLES C. F. GREVILLE, Esq.
             Clerk of the Council to Those Sovereigns

                            Edited by
                           HENRY REEVE
                  Registrar of the Privy Council


                         IN THREE VOLUMES
                             VOL. I.

                          Second Edition

                              LONDON
                     LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.
                               1874




                             PREFACE
                          BY THE EDITOR


The Author of these Journals requested me, in January 1865, a few
days before his death, to take charge of them with a view to
publication at some future time. He left that time to my
discretion, merely remarking that Memoirs of this kind ought not,
in his opinion, to be locked up until they had lost their
principal interest by the death of all those who had taken any
part in the events they describe. He placed several of the
earlier volumes at once in my hands, and he intimated to his
surviving brother and executor, Mr. Henry Greville, his desire
that the remainder should be given me for this purpose. The
injunction was at once complied with after Mr. Charles Greville's
death, and this interesting deposit has now remained for nearly
ten years in my possession. In my opinion this period of time is
long enough to remove every reasonable objection to the
publication of a contemporary record of events already separated
from us by a much longer interval, for the transactions related
in these volumes commence in 1818 and end in 1837. I therefore
commit to the press that portion of these Memoirs which embraces
the Reigns of King George IV. and King William IV., ending with
the Accession of her present Majesty.

In accepting the trust and deposit which Mr. Greville thought fit
to place in my hands, I felt, and still feel, that I undertook a
task and a duty of considerable responsibility; but from the time
and the manner in which it was offered me I could not decline it.
I had lived for more than five-and-twenty years in the daily
intercourse of official life and private friendship with Mr.
Greville. Sir George Cornewall Lewis, to whom he had previously
intended to leave these Journals, died before him. After that
event, deeply to be regretted on so many accounts, Mr. Greville
did me the honour to select me for the performance of this duty,
which was unexpected by myself; and my strong attachment and
gratitude to him for numberless acts of kindness and marks of
confidence bound me by every consideration to obey and execute
the wishes of my late friend.

In the discharge of this trust I have been guided by no other
motive than the desire to present these Memorials to the world in
a manner which their Author would not have disapproved, and in
strict conformity with his own wishes and injunctions. He
himself, it should be said, had frequently revised them with
great care. He had studiously omitted and erased passages
relating to private persons or affairs, which could only serve to
gratify the love of idle gossip and scandal. The Journals contain
absolutely nothing relating to his own family, and but little
relating to his private life. In a passage (not now published) of
his own writings, the Author remarks:--

    'A journal to be good, true, and interesting, should be
    written without the slightest reference to publication,
    but without any fear of it: it should be the transcript
    of a mind that can bear transcribing. I always
    contemplate the possibility that hereafter my journal
    will be read, and I regard with alarm and dislike the
    notion of its containing matters about myself which
    nobody will care to know' (January 2nd, 1838).

These notes were designed chiefly to preserve a record of the
less known causes and details of public events which came under
the Author's observation, and they are interspersed with the
conversations of many of the eminent men with whom he associated.
But it must be borne in mind that they are essentially what they
profess to be--a _contemporary_ record of facts and opinions, not
altered or made up to square with subsequent experience. Hence
some facts may be inaccurately stated, because they are given in
the shape they assumed at the time they were recorded, and some
opinions and judgments on men and things are at variance (as he
himself acknowledges and points out) with those at which the
writer afterwards arrived on the same persons and subjects. Our
impressions of what is passing around us vary so rapidly and so
continually, that a contemporary record of opinion, honestly
preserved, differs very widely from the final and mature judgment
of history: yet the judgment of history must be based upon
contemporary evidence. It was remarked by an acute observer to
Mr. Greville himself, that the _nuances_ in political society are
so delicate and numerous, the details so nice and varying, that
unless caught at the moment they escape, and it is impossible to
collect them again. That is the charm and the merit of genuine
contemporary records.

The two leading qualities in the mind of Mr. Greville were the
love of truth and the love of justice. His natural curiosity,
which led him to track out and analyse the causes of events with
great eagerness, was stimulated by the desire to arrive at their
real origin, and to award to everyone, with judicial impartiality,
what appeared to him to be a just share of responsibility.
Without the passions or the motives of a party politician, he
ardently sympathised with the cause of Liberal progress and
Conservative improvement, or, as he himself expresses it, with
Conservative principles on a Liberal basis. He was equally
opposed to the prejudices of the old Tory aristocracy, amongst
whom he had been brought up, and to the impetuous desire of
change which achieved in his time so many vast and various
triumphs. His own position, partly from the nature of the
permanent office he held in the Privy Council, and partly from
his personal intimacies with men of very opposite opinions, was a
neutral one; but he used that neutral position with consummate
judgment and address to remove obstacles, to allay irritations,
to compose differences, and to promote, as far as lay in his
power, the public welfare. Contented with his own social
position, he was alike free from ambition and from vanity. No man
was more entirely disinterested in his judgments on public
affairs, for he had long made up his mind that he had nothing to
gain or to lose by them, and in the opinions he formed, and on
occasion energetically maintained, he cared for nothing but their
justice and their truth. I trust that I do not deceive myself in
the belief that the impressions of such a man, faithfully
rendered at the time, on the events happening around him, will be
thought to possess a permanent value and interest. But I am aware
that opinions governed by no party standard will appear to a
certain extent to be fluctuating and even inconsistent. I have
not thought it consistent with my duty as the Editor of these
papers to suppress or modify any of the statements or opinions of
their Author on public men or public events; nor do I hold myself
in any way responsible for the tenor of them. Some of these
judgments of the writer may be thought harsh and severe, and some
of them were subsequently mitigated by himself. But those who
enter public life submit their conduct and their lives to the
judgment of their contemporaries and of posterity, and this is
especially true of those who fill the most exalted stations in
society. Every act, almost every thought, which is brought home
to them leaves its mark, and those who come after them cannot
complain that this mark is as indelible as their fame. The only
omissions I have thought it right to make are a few passages and
expressions relating to persons and occurrences in private life,
in which I have sought to publish nothing which could give pain
or annoyance to persons still alive.

It will be observed that these Journals begin in the year 1818,
when Mr. Greville was barely twenty-four years of age, and indeed
I possess some notes of an earlier period, which it was not
thought desirable to include in this publication. At that age Mr.
Greville had but a short experience of life, without the
opportunities of information which he subsequently enjoyed;
consequently the first two or three chapters of the first volume
are of secondary interest, and the political value of the work
begins with the retirement of Lord Liverpool. But it is by his
own express desire that these chapters are retained to complete
the series, and the particulars relating to the Duke of York and
to the Queen's trial are not without interest. As the Author
advanced in life his narrative increases in value both in
substance and in style, and the most important portion of it is
that which must at present be reserved for future publication.

Of the Author of these Journals it may suffice to say that
Charles Cavendish Fulke Greville was the eldest of the three sons
of Charles Greville (who was grandson of the fifth Lord Warwick),
by Lady Charlotte Cavendish Bentinck, eldest daughter of William
Henry, third Duke of Portland, K.G., who filled many great
offices of State. He was born on the 2nd of April, 1794. Much of
his childhood was spent at his grandfather's house at Bulstrode.
He was educated at Eton and at Christ Church, Oxford; but he left
the University early, having been appointed private secretary to
Earl Bathurst before he was twenty.

The influence of the Duke of Portland obtained for him early in
life the sinecure appointment of the Secretaryship of Jamaica,
the duties of that office being performed by deputy, and likewise
the reversion of the Clerkship of the Council. He entered in 1821
upon the duties of Clerk of the Council in Ordinary, which he
discharged for nearly forty years. During the last twenty years
of his life Mr. Greville occupied a suite of rooms in the house
of Earl Granville in Bruton Street, and there, on the 18th of
January, 1865, he expired. I was with him on the previous evening
until he retired to rest; from that sleep he never woke.

No additions whatever have been made to the text of these
Journals. The passages occasionally interposed in a parenthesis,
at a later date, to correct or comment upon a previous statement,
are all by the hand of the Author. So likewise are the notes
distinguished by no mark. For the notes included in brackets []
the Editor is responsible.

                                                      Henry Reeve.
                                                 October 1st, 1874




                   Contents of the First Volume


                            CHAPTER I.

Queen Charlotte--Duchesses of Cumberland and Cambridge--
  Westminster Election--Contest between Sir Francis Burdett and
  Sir Murray Maxwell--London Election--Oatlands--The Duke of
  York--Duchess of York--Ampthill--Tixall--Mr. Luttrell--Lady
  Granville--Teddesley--Macao--Burleigh--Middleton--Lady Jersey--
  The New Parliament--Tierney and Pitt--Princess Lieven--Madame
  de Staël on the French Revolution--Westminster Election--
  Hobhouse Defeated--Scarlett's Maiden Speech--Influence of
  Party--Play--The Persian Ambassador at Court--Prince Leopold--
  Woburn--Anecdote of the Allies--Death of George III.--Illness
  of George IV.--Queen Caroline--Fleury de Chabaulon--The Cato
  Street Conspiracy--George IV. at Ascot--Marchioness of
  Conyngham--Queen Caroline in London--Message to Parliament--
  Debates--Insubordination in the Guards--Wilberforce's Motion--
  Proceedings against the Queen--'Les Liaisons dangereuses'--The
  Queen's Trial--The Duke of Wellington on the Battle of Waterloo
  and the Occupation of Paris.
                                                           Page 1


                           CHAPTER II.

Popularity of George IV.--The Duke of York's Racing
  Establishment--Clerk of the Council--Lord Liverpool and Mr.
  Sumner--Lady Conyngham--Death of Lady Worcester--Her
  Character--Ball at Devonshire House--The Duke of York's
  Aversion to the Duke of Wellington--The Pavilion at Brighton--
  Lord Francis Conyngham--The King and the Duke of Wellington--
  Death of the Marquis of Londonderry--His Policy--Sir B.
  Bloomfield sent to Stockholm--Mr. Canning's Foreign Secretary--
  Queen Caroline and Brougham--Canning and George IV.--Lord
  William Bentinck aspires to go to India--His Disappointment--
  The Duke of York's Duel with Colonel Lennox--George III.'s
  Will--George IV. appropriates the late King's Personal
  Property--The Duke of Wellington on the Congress of Verona and
  on the Politics of Europe--Intervention in Spain--Ferdinand
  VII.--M. de Villèle--The Duke's Opinion of Napoleon--Sir
  William Knighton--The Duke of York's Anecdotes of George IV.--
  Death of the Marquis of Titchfield--His Character
                                                          Page 43


                           CHAPTER III.

The Panic of 1825--Death of the Emperor Alexander--The Duke of
  Wellington's Embassy to St. Petersburg--Robinson Chancellor of
  the Exchequer--Small Notes Bill--Death of Arthur de Ros--George
  III. and Lord Bute--Illness and Death of the Duke of York--His
  Funeral--Lord Liverpool struck with Paralysis--Rundell's
  Fortune and Will--Copley and Phillpotts--The Cottage--Formation
  of Mr. Canning's Administration--Secession of the Tories--The
  Whigs join him--Dinner at the Royal Lodge--Difficulties of
  Canning's Government--Duke of Wellington visits the King--
  Canning's Death--Anecdotes of Mr. Canning--Recognition of South
  American States--His Industry--The Duke of Wellington on
  Canning--Lord Goderich's Administration formed--The Difficulty
  about Herries--Position of the Whigs--The King's Letter to
  Herries--Peel and George IV.--Interview of Lord Lansdowne with
  the King--Weakness of the Government--First Resignation of Lord
  Goderich--Lord Harrowby declines the Premiership--Lord Goderich
  returns--Brougham and Rogers--Conversation and Character of
  Brougham--Lord Goderich's Ministry dissolved--Cause of its
  Dissolution--Hostility of Herries--Position of Huskisson and
  his Friends--Herries and Huskisson both join the New Cabinet
                                                         Page  77


                           CHAPTER IV.

The Duke of Wellington's Administration--Huskisson's Speech--
  Irritation of Mr. Canning's Friends--Tom Duncombe's Maiden
  Speech--Mr. Huskisson resigns and the Canningites quit the
  Government--Princess Lieven hostile to the Duke--The Catholic
  Question--Jockey Club Dinner at St. James's--Lord Lyndhurst--
  Sir Robert Adair--Fox and Burke--Fox and Pitt--The Lord High
  Admiral dismissed by the King--Dawson's Speech on Catholic
  Emancipation--The King's Health--His Pages--State of Ireland--
  Marquis of Anglesey--O'Connell--His Influence in Ireland--Lord
  Belmore Governor of Jamaica--The Duke's Letter to Dr. Curtis--
  Recall of Lord Anglesey from Ireland--Causes of this Event--
  Excitement of the King on the Catholic Question--His Aversion
  to Sir William Knighton--Character of George IV.--Denman's Silk
  Gown--Pension to Lady Westmeath--Duke of Wellington on Russia--
  The Reis-Effendi--Duke of Northumberland goes to Ireland--Privy
  Council Register--State Paper Office--The Gunpowder Plot--
  Catholic Emancipation--Navarino
                                                         Page 124


                            CHAPTER V.

The Catholic Relief Bill--Inconsistency of the Tories--The
  Catholic Association--Dinner at Charles Grant's--The Terceira
  Expedition--Tory Discontent--Peel resigns his Seat for Oxford
  University--A Blunder in Chancery--The Oxford Election--
  Influence of the Duke of Wellington--Debate of Royal Dukes--
  Peel beaten--Sir Edward Codrington--Violence of the King--
  Intrigues to defeat the Catholic Bill--The Duke of Cumberland--
  Furious State of Parties--Matuscewitz--Peel's Speech on
  Catholic Emancipation--Exclusion of O'Connell from his Seat for
  Clare--Pitt's View of Catholic Emancipation--'Musae
  Cateatonenses'--'Thorough'--Mr. Lowther not turned out--Duke of
  Newcastle's Audience of George IV.--The King's Personal
  Habits--The Debate--Mr. Sadler--Hardness of the Duke of
  Wellington--His Duel with Lord Winchelsea--The Bishops and the
  Bill--Sir Charles Wetherell--The King on the Duel--Lord
  Winchelsea's Pocket-handkerchief--Debate on the Catholic Bill--
  The Duke of Richmond--Effects of Dawson's Speech on the King--
  The Bill in Jeopardy--Lady Jersey and Lord Anglesey--Lord
  Falmouth and Lord Grey--O'Connell at Dinner--The Duke breaks
  with Lord Eldon--Hibner the Murderess--Theatrical Fund--The
  Levee--The Duke's Carriage stopped--The King's Health--Lady
  Conyngham--O'Connell's Seat--Child's Ball at Court--Princess
  Victoria--Legal Appointments--Lord Palmerston on Foreign
  Affairs--The King and Lord Sefton--The King's Speech on the
  Prorogation--Madame Du Cayla--George IV.'s Inaccuracy--
  Conversation of the Duke of Wellington on the King and the Duke
  of Cumberland
                                                         Page 166


                           CHAPTER VI.

The Recorder's Report--Manners of George IV--Intrigues of the
  Duke of Cumberland--Insults Lady Lyndhurst--Deacon Hume at the
  Board of Trade--Quarrel between the Duke of Cumberland and the
  Lord Chancellor--A Bad Season--Prostration of Turkey--France
  under Polignac--State of Ireland--Mr. Windham's Diary--George
  IV.'s Eyesight--Junius--A Man without Money--Court-martial on
  Captain Dickenson--The Duke and the 'Morning Journal'--Physical
  Courage of the King--A Charade at Chatsworth--Huskisson and the
  Duke--Irish Trials--Tom Moore--Scott--Byron--Fanny Kemble--Sir
  James Mackintosh--His Conversation--Black Irishmen--Moore's
  Irish Story--Moore's Singing--George IV. and Mr. Denman--
  Strawberry Hill--Moore at Trinity College--Indian Vengeance at
  Niagara--Count Woronzow--Lord Glengall's Play--The Recorder's
  Report
                                                         Page 221


                           CHAPTER VII.

Chapter of the Bath--The Duc de Dino arrested--A Ball to the
  Divan--English Policy in Greece--Sir Thomas Lawrence--
  Gallatin--Court of King's Bench--Accident to the Grand Duke
  Constantine--Osterley--Young Sidney Herbert--Duke of Wellington
  in Office--Stapleton's 'Life of Canning'--Death of Sir Thomas
  Lawrence--Leopold and the Throne of Greece--Canning's Answers
  to Lord Grey--Distressed State of the Country--Canning's
  Greatness and his Failings--Death of Tierney--Sir Martin Shee
  President--The Duke of Wellington's Views and Conduct--The
  coming Session--Moore's 'Life of Byron'--Character of Byron--
  Opening of Parliament--The Fire King--The Duke of Wellington's
  Speaking--The English Opera House burnt down--Lord Thurlow on
  Kenyon and Buller--Old Rothschild--Lansdowne House--Earl
  Stanhope--John Murray--Departure for Italy
                                                         Page 254


                          CHAPTER VIII.

Calais--Beau Brummell--Paris--The Polignac Ministry--Polignac and
  Charles X.--The Duke of Orleans--State of Parties--Talleyrand--
  Lyons--First Impressions of Mountain Scenery--Mont Cenis--
  Turin--Marengo--Genoa--Road to Florence--Pisa--Florence--Lord
  and Lady Burghersh--Thorwaldsen--Lord Cochrane--Rome--St.
  Peter's--Frascati--Grotto Ferrata--Queen Hortense and Louis
  Napoleon--Coliseum--Death of Lady Northampton--The Moses--
  Gardens--Palm Sunday--Sistine Chapel--The Cardinals--Popes--
  Cardinal Albani--The Farnese Palace--A Dead Cardinal--Pasquin--
  Statue of Pompey--Galleries and Catacombs--Bunsen--The Papal
  Benediction--Ceremonies of the Holy Week--The Grand
  Penitentiary--A Confession--Protestant Cemetery--Illumination
  of St. Peter's--Torlonia--Bunsen on the Forum
                                                         Page 282


                           CHAPTER IX.

Lake of Albano--Velletri--Naples--Rapid Travelling in 1830--A
  Trial at Naples--Deciphering Manuscripts--Ball at the Duchesse
  d'Eboli's--Matteis's Plot and Trial--Pompeii--Taking the Veil--
  Pausilippo--Baiae--La Cava--Salerno--Paestum--Lazaroni--Museum
  of Naples--Grotto del Cane--The Camaldoli--Herculaneum--
  Vesuvius--Sorrento--Miracle of St. Januarius--Astroni--Farewell
  to Naples
                                                         Page 331


                            CHAPTER X.

Moladi Gaeta--Capua--Lines on leaving Naples--Return to Rome--The
  Aqueducts--'Domine, quo vadis?'--St. Peter's--The Scala Santa--
  Reasons in Favour of San Gennaro--Ascent of St. Peter's--
  Library of the Vatican--A racing _ex voto_--Illness of George
  IV.--Approaching _Coup d'État_ in France--The Villa Mills--The
  Malaria--Duc and Duchesse de Dalberg--The Emperor Nicholas on
  his Accession--Cardinal Albani--A _Columbarium_--Maii--Sir
  William Gell--Tivoli--Hadrian's Villa--The Adventures of Miss
  Kelly and Mr. Swift--Audience of the Pope--Gibson's Studio--End
  of Miss Kelly's Marriage--A Great Function--The Jesuits--
  Saint-making--San Lorenzo in Lucina--The Flagellants--Statues
  by Torchlight--Bunsen on the State of Rome--Frascati--Relations
  of Protestant States with Rome--The French Ministry--M. de
  Villèle--The Coliseum--Excommunication of a Thief--The
  Passionists--The Corpus Domini--A Rash Marriage--Farewell to
  Rome--Falls of Terni--Statue at Pratolino--Bologna--
  Mezzofanti--Ferrara--Venice--Padua--Vicenza--Brescia--Verona--
  Milan--Lago Maggiore--The Simplon--Geneva--Paris
                                                         Page 350


                              NOTE.

Mr. Greville's Connexion with the Turf.




                            A JOURNAL
                              of the
                 REIGN OF KING GEORGE THE FOURTH




                            CHAPTER I.

Queen Charlotte--Duchesses of Cumberland and Cambridge--
  Westminster Election--Contest between Sir Francis Burdett and
  Sir Murray Maxwell--London Election--Oatlands--The Duke of
  York--Duchess of York--Ampthill--Tixall--Mr. Luttrell--Lady
  Granville--Teddesley--Macao--Burleigh--Middleton--Lady Jersey--
  The New Parliament--Tierney and Pitt--Princess Lieven--Madame
  de Staël on the French Revolution--Westminster Election--
  Hobhouse Defeated--Scarlett's Maiden Speech--Influence of
  Party--Play--The Persian Ambassador at Court--Prince Leopold--
  Woburn--Anecdote of the Allies--Death of George III.--Illness
  of George IV.--Queen Caroline--Fleury de Chabaulon--The Cato
  Street Conspiracy--George IV. at Ascot--Marchioness of
  Conyngham--Queen Caroline in London--Message to Parliament--
  Debates--Insubordination in the Guards--Wilberforce's Motion--
  Proceedings against the Queen--'Les Liaisons dangereuses'--The
  Queen's Trial--The Duke of Wellington on the Battle of Waterloo
  and the Occupation of Paris.


                              1818.


I began to keep a Journal some time ago, and, after continuing it
irregularly, dropped it entirely. I have since felt tempted to
resume it, because, having frequent opportunities of mixing in
the society of celebrated men, some particulars about them might
be interesting hereafter.


[Page Head: LAST YEARS OF THE REGENCY.]

June 7th, 1818 {p.001}

The dissolution of Parliament is deferred on account of the
mistakes which have been made in passing the Alien Bill. On
Friday night the exultation of the Opposition was very great at
what they deemed a victory over the Ministers. It is said that
there will be 100 contests, and that Government will lose twenty
or thirty members. The Queen was so ill on Friday evening that
they expected she would die. She had a severe spasm.[1]

      [1] [Queen Charlotte, consort of George III., died on the
          17th of November of this year, 1818.]

The Duchess of Cambridge[2] has been received in a most
flattering manner here, and it is said that the Duchess of
Cumberland is severely mortified at the contrast between her
reception and that of her sister-in-law. On the Sunday after her
arrival the Duke took her to walk in the Park, when she was so
terrified by the pressure of the mob about her that she nearly
fainted away.

      [2] [Prince Adolphus Frederick, Duke of Cambridge, seventh
          son of George III., married on the 7th of May, 1818,
          Augusta Wilhelmina Louisa, Princess of Hesse, youngest
          daughter of the Landgrave of Hesse-Cassel. Ernest, Duke
          of Cumberland, the King's fourth son, married on the
          29th of August, 1815, at Strelitz, the Princess
          Frederica, third daughter of the Duke of
          Mecklenburg-Strelitz. This lady had been twice married
          before, first to Prince Frederic Louis Charles of
          Prussia, and secondly to the Prince of Salms-Braunfels.
          As the Duchess of Cumberland had been divorced from her
          last husband, the Queen received her with great
          coldness; and the position in which she was placed
          contrasted strongly with that of the Duchess of
          Cambridge on her marriage.]

The Regent drives in the Park every day in a tilbury, with his
groom sitting by his side; grave men are shocked at this
undignified practice.


June 21st, 1818 {p.002}

I dined at Holland House last Thursday. The party consisted of
Lord Lansdowne, Mr. Frere, and Mrs. Tierney and her son. After
dinner Mr. Frere repeated to us a great deal of that part of
'Whistlecraft' which is not yet published.[3] I laughed whenever
I could, but as I have never read the first part, and did not
understand the second, I was not so much amused as the rest of
the company.

      [3] [The whole poem of 'Whistlecraft' has since been
          republished in the collected works of the Right Hon.
          Hookham Frere.]

On Friday I went to the Stud-house, where a great party was
assembled to see the stock and buy them. After visiting the
paddocks, Bloomfield[4] gave a magnificent dinner to the company
in a tent near the house; it was the finest feast I ever saw, but
the badness of the weather spoilt the entertainment.

      [4] [Sir Benjamin Bloomfield filled the offices of Marshal
          and Chief Equerry to the Regent, and in 1817 he became
          Receiver-General of the Duchy of Cornwall and Keeper of
          the Privy Purse to the Prince. The Stud-house of
          Hampton Court had been given him as a residence. He was
          raised to the peerage in 1825.]

The Queen's illness was occasioned by information which she
received of the Duchesses of Cumberland and Cambridge having met
and embraced. This meeting took place as if by accident, but
really by appointment, in Kew Gardens; and the Duke of Cambridge
himself informed the Queen of it. She was in such a rage that the
spasm was brought on, and she was very near dying.


[Page Head: A GENERAL ELECTION.]

June 24th, 1818 {p.003}

The elections are carried on with great violence, and every day
we hear of fresh contests being in agitation. The disgraceful
scenes which have taken place in Westminster excite universal
shame and indignation. The mob seem to have shaken off the
feelings and the usual character of Englishmen, and in the brutal
attacks which they have made on Captain Maxwell have displayed
the savage ferocity which marked the mobs of Paris in the worst
times. He has been so much hurt that his life is now in danger.
Sir F. Burdett told me this morning that as soon as he was at the
head of the poll he thought he should appear upon the hustings
and thank the people for having raised him thus high. It is
supposed that Burdett has laid out £10,000. on this election,
though his friends do not acknowledge that he has spent anything.
It is clear that the open houses, cockades, and bands of music we
have seen these three days were not procured for nothing.

Lord Castlereagh went to the hustings, and voted for Sir Murray
Maxwell; he was hooted, pelted, and got off with some difficulty.
His Lordship's judgment was not very conspicuous on this
occasion; both Sir Murray's friends and enemies are of opinion
that Lord Castlereagh's vote did him a great deal of harm and
turned many men against him. The severest contests will be in
Wiltshire, Herefordshire, Devonshire, and Lincolnshire. The
elections are going against Government generally; in London
particularly, as the Ministers lose one seat in the Borough and
two in the City. This last election is the most unexpected of
all. Curtis has been member for twenty-eight years, and has been
used to come in very high on the poll. On this occasion the
contest between him and Alderman Thorpe was severe, but Curtis
would have carried it had not Wood and Waithman coalesced with
Thorpe the last day, and thrown their spare votes over to him;
this determined the election in his favour.[5]

      [5] [Sir William Curtis was the Ministerial candidate in
          the City of London; he was thrown out, and Messrs.
          Wood, Waithman, Wilson, and Thorpe were returned.]


June 30th, 1818 {p.004}

There was an affray yesterday afternoon in Covent Garden. Sir
Murray Maxwell's people paraded about a large boat drawn by six
horses. Burdett's mob attacked and demolished the boat, and this
action having raised their spirits, the contest continued. The
consequence was that a large party of Horse Guards were marched
into Covent Garden, and paraded there during the rest of the
night. The people expressed their discontent by cries of 'This is
what they call freedom of election!' 'Burdett for ever!' &c.[6]

      [6] [The Westminster election terminated as follows:--Sir
          Samuel Romilly, 5,339; Sir Francis Burdett, 5,238; Sir
          Murray Maxwell, 4,808; Henry Hunt, 84.]


August 4th, 1818 {p.004}

I went to Oatlands[7] on Saturday. There was a very large party--
Mr. and Mrs. Burrell, Lord Alvanley, Berkeley Craven, Cooke,
Arthur Upton, Armstrong, Foley, Lord Lauderdale, Lake, Page, Lord
Yarmouth. We played at whist till four in the morning. On Sunday
we amused ourselves with eating fruit in the garden, and shooting
at a mark with pistols, and playing with the monkeys. I bathed in
the cold bath in the grotto, which is as clear as crystal and as
cold as ice. Oatlands is the worst managed establishment in
England; there are a great many servants, and nobody waits on
you; a vast number of horses, and none to ride or drive.

      [7] [Oatlands Park, Weybridge, at that time the residence
          of the Duke of York.]


[Page Head: DUKE AND DUCHESS OF YORK.]

August 15th, 1818 {p.004}

The parties at Oatlands take place every Saturday, and the guests
go away on Monday morning. These parties begin as soon as the
Duchess leaves London, and last till the October meetings. During
the Egham races there is a large party which remains there from
the Saturday before the races till the Monday se'nnight
following; this is called the Duchess's party, and she invites
the guests. The Duke is only there himself from Saturday to
Monday. There are almost always the same people, sometimes more,
sometimes less. We dine at eight, and sit at table till eleven.
In about a quarter of an hour after we leave the dining-room the
Duke sits down to play at whist, and never stirs from the table
as long as anybody will play with him. When anybody gives any
hint of being tired he will leave off, but if he sees no signs of
weariness in others he will never stop himself. He is equally
well amused whether the play is high or low, but the stake he
prefers is fives and ponies.[8] The Duchess generally plays also
at half-crown whist. The Duke always gets up very early, whatever
time he may go to bed. On Sunday morning he goes to church,
returns to a breakfast of tea and cold meat, and afterwards rides
or walks till the evening. On Monday morning he always sets off
to London at nine o'clock. He sleeps equally well in a bed or in
a carriage. The Duchess seldom goes to bed, or, if she does, only
for an hour or two; she sleeps dressed upon a couch, sometimes in
one room, sometimes in another. She frequently walks out very
late at night, or rather early in the morning, and she always
sleeps with open windows. She dresses and breakfasts at three
o'clock, afterwards walks out with all her dogs, and seldom
appears before dinner-time. At night, when she cannot sleep, she
has women to read to her. The Duchess of York[9] is clever and
well-informed; she likes society and dislikes all form and
ceremony, but in the midst of the most familiar intercourse she
always preserves a certain dignity of manner. Those who are in
the habit of going to Oatlands are perfectly at their ease with
her, and talk with as much freedom as they would to any other
woman, but always with great respect. Her mind is not perhaps the
most delicate; she shows no dislike to coarseness of sentiment or
language, and I have seen her very much amused with jokes,
stories, and allusions which would shock a very nice person. But
her own conversation is never polluted with anything the least
indelicate or unbecoming. She is very sensible to little
attentions, and is annoyed if anybody appears to keep aloof from
her or to shun conversing with her. Her dogs are her greatest
interest and amusement, and she has at least forty of various
kinds. She is delighted when anybody gives her a dog, or a
monkey, or a parrot, of all of which she has a vast number; it is
impossible to offend her or annoy her more than by ill-using any
of her dogs, and if she were to see anybody beat or kick any one
of them she would never forgive it. She has always lived on good
terms with the Royal Family, but is intimate with none of them,
and goes as little as possible to Court. The Regent dislikes her,
and she him. With the Princess Charlotte she was latterly very
intimate, spent a great deal of time at Claremont, and felt her
death very severely. The Duchess has no taste for splendour or
magnificence, and likes to live the life of a private individual
as much as possible.

      [8] [Five-pound points and twenty-five pounds on the
          rubber.]

      [9] [The Duchess of York was born Princess Royal of
          Prussia; she married the Duke of York in 1791, and died
          on the 6th of August, 1820.]

[Page Head: DUKE AND DUCHESS OF YORK.]

The Duke of York is not clever, but he has a justness of
understanding, which enables him to avoid the errors into which
most of his brothers have fallen, and which have made them so
contemptible and unpopular. Although his talents are not
rated high, and in public life he has never been honourably
distinguished, the Duke of York is loved and respected. He is the
only one of the Princes who has the feelings of an English
gentleman; his amiable disposition and excellent temper have
conciliated for him the esteem and regard of men of all parties,
and he has endeared himself to his friends by the warmth and
steadiness of his attachments, and from the implicit confidence
they all have in his truth, straightforwardness, and sincerity.
He delights in the society of men of the world and in a life of
gaiety and pleasure. He is very easily amused, and particularly
with jokes full of coarseness and indelicacy; the men with whom
he lives most are _très-polissons_, and _la polissonnerie_ is the
_ton_ of his society. But his aides-de-camp and friends, while
they do not scruple to say everything before and to him, always
treat him with attention and respect. The Duke and the Duchess
live upon the best terms; their manner to one another is cordial,
and while full of mutual respect and attention, they follow
separately their own occupations and amusements without
interfering with one another. Their friends are common to both,
and those who are most attached to the Duke are equally so to the
Duchess. One of her few foibles is an extreme tenaciousness of
her authority at Oatlands; one way in which this is shown is in
the stable, where, although there are always eight or ten
carriage-horses which seldom do any work, it is impossible ever
to procure a horse to ride or drive, because the Duchess
appropriates them all to herself. The other day one of the
aides-de-camp (Cooke) wanted to drive Burrell (who was there) to
Hampton Court; he spoke of this at breakfast, and the Duke
hearing it, desired he would take the curricle and two Spanish
horses which had been given to him. The Duchess, however, chose
to call these horses hers and to consider them as her own. The
curricle came to the door, and just as they were going to mount
it a servant came from the Duchess (who had heard of it) and told
the coachman that her Royal Highness knew nothing of it, had not
ordered it, and that the curricle must go home, which it
accordingly did.


September 3rd, 1818 {p.007}

I went to Oatlands for the Egham races. The party lasted more
than a week; there was a great number of people, and it was very
agreeable. Erskine was extremely mad; he read me some of his
verses, and we had a dispute upon religious subjects one morning,
which he finished by declaring his entire disbelief in the Mosaic
history. We played at whist every night that the Duke was there,
and I always won. The Duchess was unwell most of the time. We
showed her a _galanterie_ which pleased her very much. She
produced a picture of herself one evening, which she said she was
going to send to the Duchess of Orleans; we all cried out, said
it was bad, and asked her why she did not let Lawrence paint her
picture, and send a miniature copied from that. She declared she
could not afford it; we then said, if she would sit, we would pay
for the picture, which she consented to do, when all the men
present signed a paper, desiring that a picture should be painted
and a print taken from it of her Royal Highness. Lawrence is to
be invited to Oatlands at Christmas to paint the picture. The men
who subscribe are Culling Smith, Alvanley, B. Craven, Worcester,
Armstrong, A. Upton, Rogers, Luttrell, and myself, who were
present. The Duchess desired that Greenwood and Taylor might be
added. From Oatlands I went to Cirencester, where I stayed a week
and then returned to Oatlands, expecting to find the Queen dead
and the house empty, but I found the party still there.


Ampthill,[10] September 9th, 1818 {p.008}

I rode down here to-day, Alvanley and Montrond came in a chaise
and four, and were only three hours and three-quarters coming
from town. Luttrell and Rogers are here. The dinner very bad,
because the cook is out of humour. The evening passed off
heavily.

     [10] [Ampthill Park, at that time the seat of Lord and Lady
          Holland, who had inherited it from the Earl of Upper
          Ossory. On the death of Lady Holland Ampthill was
          purchased by the Duke of Bedford, and has since been
          inhabited by Lord and Lady Wensleydale.]


Ampthill, September 11th, 1818 {p.008}

The Duke and Duchess of San Carlos came yesterday with their two
daughters, one of whom is fourteen and the other twelve or
thirteen years old. The eldest is betrothed to the Count
Altimira, a boy of seventeen years old, son of one of the richest
Spanish grandees. He has £70,000 a year. The Duke of Medina-Coeli
before the French invasion had £215,000 a year.

Lord Holland was talking to Mr. Fox the day after the debate on
the war (after the Peace of Amiens) about public speakers, and
mentioned Sheridan's speech on the Begums. Fox said, 'You may
rest assured that that speech was the finest that ever was made
in Parliament.' Lord Holland said, 'It is very well of you to say
so, but I think your speech last night was a pretty good one.'
Fox said, 'And that was a devilish fine speech too.'


[Page Head: CHARACTER OF MR. LUTTRELL.]

Teddesley, November 30th, 1818 {p.009}

I went to Tixall[11] on Tuesday, the 10th of November. There were
Luttrell, Nugent, Montagu, Granville Somerset (who went away the
next day), and afterwards Granville Vernon, Wilmot, and Mr.
Donald. I never remember so agreeable a party--'le bon goût, les
ris, l'aimable liberté.' Everybody was pleased because each did
what he pleased, and the tone of the society was gay, simple, and
clever.

     [11] [Tixall, the seat of Sir Clifford Constable in
          Staffordshire, was let at this time to Lord and Lady
          Granville.]

It is hardly possible to live with a more agreeable man than
Luttrell. He is difficult to please, but when pleased and in good
spirits, full of vivacity. He has a lively imagination, a great
deal of instruction, and a very retentive memory, a memory
particularly happy for social purposes, for he recollects a
thousand anecdotes, fine allusions, odd expressions, or happy
remarks, applicable to the generality of topics which fall under
discussion. He is extremely sensitive, easily disconcerted, and
resents want of tact in others, because he is so liable to suffer
from any breach of it. A sceptic in religion, and by no means
austere in morals, he views with indulgence all faults except
those which are committed against society, but he looks upon a
bore with unconcealed aversion. He is attached to a few persons
whose talents he respects and whose society he covets, but
towards the world in general he is rather misanthropical, and
prides himself upon being free from the prejudices which he
ridicules and despises more or less in everybody else. Detesting
the importance and the superiority which are assumed by those who
have only riches or rank to boast of, he delights in London,
where such men find their proper level, and where genius and
ability always maintain an ascendancy over pomp, vanity, and the
adventitious circumstances of birth or position. Born in
mystery,[12] he has always shrouded himself in a secresy which
none of his acquaintance have ever endeavoured to penetrate. He
has connections, but they are unknown or only guessed at. He has
occupations, amusements, and interests unconnected with the
society in which he publicly moves. Of these he never speaks, and
no one ever ventures to ask him any questions. Ostensibly he has
no friend. Standing thus alone in the world, he derives but
little of his happiness from others; and he seems to delight in
the independence of his feelings as well as of his situation. He
is very witty and says excellent things, brilliant in general
society and pleasant in _tête-à-tête._ Many men infinitely less
clever _converse_ more agreeably than he does, because he is too
epigrammatic, and has accustomed himself so much to make
brilliant observations that he cannot easily descend to quiet,
unlaboured talk. This only applies to him when in general
society; when alone with another person he talks as agreeably as
possible.

     [12] [Mr. Luttrell was believed to be a natural son of Lord
          Carhampton. He had sat in the last Irish Parliament
          before the Union, and died about 1855 at a very
          advanced age.]

Nugent is clever, and in many respects a more amiable companion
than Luttrell, though very inferior to him in ability. He is
well-informed, gentlemanlike, sensible, with good manners, good
taste, and has a talent for music; he is always in good humour,
and discriminating without being difficult.

Lady Granville[13] has a great deal of genial humour, strong
feelings, enthusiasm, delicacy, refinement, good taste, _naïveté_
which just misses being affectation, and a _bonhomie_ which
extends to all around her.

     [13] [Henrietta Elizabeth, daughter of William, fifth Duke
          of Devonshire, married in 1809 to Lord Granville
          Leveson Gower, created Viscount Granville in 1815, and
          Earl Granville in 1833, during his embassy at the Court
          of France.]

Nothing could exceed the agreeableness of the life we led at
Tixall. We breakfasted about twelve or later, dined at seven,
played at whist and macao the whole evening, and went to bed at
different hours between two and four. 'Nous faisions la bonne
chère, ce qui ajoute beaucoup à l'agrément de la société. Je ne
dis pas ceci par rapport à mes propres goûts; mais parce que je
l'ai observé, et que les philosophes n'y sont pas plus indifférents
que les bons vivants.'

[Page Head: PARTY AT TIXALL.]

When the party at Tixall was over we all removed to Teddesley.
Littleton[14] is good-natured, liberal, hospitable, and anxious
to oblige, but he wants tact, and his table is more copious than
refined. The house is ugly and in an ugly situation; the rooms
are small, but not ill furnished. The dinners were not good, and
Luttrell and Nugent were both very angry at the badness of the
fare. We had a brilliant _chasse_. Luttrell left Teddesley on
Monday, the Granvilles on Sunday, and Nugent and I on Tuesday; we
travelled together to Oxford. He is very agreeable, full of
information, and has a great facility in expressing himself. We
parted at Oxford. I went to Redrice, and came to town on Sunday.

     [14] [Edward Littleton, Esq., at that time M.P. for the
          county of Stafford; raised to the Privy Council in
          1833, when he became Chief Secretary for Ireland, and
          to the peerage under the title of Baron Hatherton in
          1835.]

Tixall was the most agreeable party I ever was at. We were all
pleased and satisfied; we played at whist, and afterwards at
macao. Littleton was the greatest winner and Lord Granville the
loser. I wrote a description of the macao in verse:--

                             _MACAO_

         The solemn chime from out the ancient tower[15]
         Invites to Macao at th' accustomed hour.
         The welcome summons heard, around the board
         Each takes his seat and counts his iv'ry hoard.
         'Tis strange to see how in the early rounds
         The cautious punters risk their single pounds,
         Till, fired with generous rage, they double stake
         And offer more than prudent dealers take.
         My Lady[16] through her glass with keen delight
         Observes the brisk beginnings of the fight;
         To some propitious, but to me unkind,
         With candour owns the bias of her mind,
         And asks of Fortune the severe decree
         T' enrich the happy Skew,[17] to ruin me.
         The fickle Goddess heard one-half the prayer,
         The rest was melted into empty air;
         For while she smiled complacent on the Skew,[18]
         On me she shed some trifling favours too.
         Sure Granville's luck exceeds all other men's
         Led through a sad variety of tens;[19]
         The rest have sometimes eights and nines, but he
         Is always followed by 'the jolly three;'[20]
         But the great Skew some guardian sylph protects,
         His judgment governs, and his hand directs
         When to refrain, when boldly to put in
         And catch with happy nine the wayward pin.[21]

The next morning Luttrell came down with, a whole paper full of
epigrams (I had been winning at macao, and had turned up five
nines in my deal):--

       Why should we wonder if in Greville's verses
       Each thought so brilliant and each line so terse is?
       For surely he in poetry must shine
       Who is, we know, so favoured by the nine.[22]

                        _THE JOLLY TENS._

          Quoth Greville, 'The commandments are divine;
            But as they're ten, I lay them on the shelf:
          O could they change their number and be nine,
            I'd keep them all, and keep them to myself!'

Thus we trifled life away.

         [15] A clock tower.
         [16] Lady Granville.
         [17] E. Montagu.
         [18] We gave him this nickname.
         [19] Tens, ruinous at macao.
         [20] Tens.
         [21] The middle pin, a large gain.
         [22] _Nines_ are the grand desiderata at macao.


                              1819.


[Page Head: LADY JERSEY.]

January 17th, 1819 {p.012}

I went to Burleigh on the 23rd of December; there was no one
there but Irby. The house disappointed me very much, but it is a
very fine showplace. I went away on the 27th to Middleton; there
were the Culling Smiths, Worcesters, Sir James Mackintosh,
Ossulstons, Nugent, &c.; it was very agreeable, and the house
extremely comfortable. Lady Jersey[23] is an extraordinary woman,
and has many good qualities; surrounded as she is by flatterers
and admirers, she is neither proud nor conceited. She is full of
vivacity, spirit, and good nature, but the wide range of her
sympathies and affections proves that she has more general
benevolence than particular sensibility in her character. She
performs all the ordinary duties of life with great correctness,
because her heart is naturally good; and she is, perhaps, from
her temperament exposed to fewer temptations than the generality
of her sex. She is deficient in passion and in softness (which
constitute the greatest charm in women), so that she excites more
of admiration than of interest; in conversation she is lively and
pleasant, without being very remarkable, for she has neither wit,
nor imagination, nor humour; her understanding is active rather
than strong, and her judgment is too often warped by prejudice to
be sound. She has a retentive memory and a restless mind,
together with a sort of intellectual arrangement, with which she
appears rather to have been gifted by nature than to have derived
it from the cultivation of her reasoning faculties.

     [23] [Sarah Sophia, eldest daughter of John, tenth Earl of
          Westmoreland, and heiress of Robert Child, Esq., of
          Osterley Park, her maternal grandfather.]

I went from Middleton to Oatlands. The Duke was not there. We had
the Smiths, Worcesters, Alvanley, Stanhope, Rogers, Luttrell,
George Dawson, Lord Lauderdale, &c. Lord Erskine was ill, and
Lord Lauderdale was taking care of him. The house was very
uncomfortable, and the room I was in small, noisy, and inconvenient.

I came to London on Friday last. Parliament having met on the
Thursday, it is very full, and is filling more and more every
day. The Opposition expect to divide 180 on the Bank question;
they talk of re-establishing the dinners which they used to have
in Fox's time.

Rogers is in a nervous state about his poem, and trembles at the
reviewers.[24]

     [24] [Rogers' poem entitled 'Human Life' was on the eve of
          publication. The reviewers treated it more tenderly
          than it deserved, as appears below.]


January 28th, 1819 {p.013}

I went to Gorhambury on the 24th to shoot. The Duke of York was
there. We should have had a brilliant _chasse_, but it rained. We
went out at three and killed 105 pheasants.

There has been some skirmishing in the House of Commons,
particularly the night before last, on Dr. Halloran's petition,
when the Opposition (Bennet _duce_) got completely beaten. Many
of the new members have spoken, but Mr. Lawson, a _soi-disant_
wit, and Sir R. Wilson have failed lamentably. It is odd enough
that Wilson made a reply to an attack which Cobbett had inserted
in one of his papers upon him. Cobbett said that he would make a
silly speech in Parliament and destroy himself, and it is just
what he did. The Opposition were very angry with Sir J. Coffin,
who, with the candour of a novice, had made himself informed of
the facts of the petition, and finding they were against his
friends, said so in the House.

Arbuthnot told me some particulars about Tierney. He began by
being a friend of Mr. Pitt, and in one of his speeches on the
Southwark or Colchester election he praised him in opposition to
Mr. Fox. This latter never liked him, and the Regent assured
Arbuthnot he had letters of Tierney in his possession thanking
him for having endeavoured to remove Mr. Fox's antipathy to him.
When Addington came in, Pitt advised him to get Tierney, as
nobody would be so useful to him. He did accordingly, and so
Tierney became a member of the Administration.[25] When Pitt came
again into office a negotiation was opened with him through the
medium of Charles Long. He was offered the Chief Secretaryship in
Ireland, which he wished to have, but he made it a condition that
he should not be in Parliament. To this Mr. Pitt would not agree,
as he said that he must commit himself with them entirely or not
join them at all; he refused, not choosing to commit himself, and
the negotiations broke off.

     [25] [Right Hon. George Tierney, Treasurer of the Navy and
          P.C. in 1803. President of the Board of Control in
          October, 1806, Member of the Mint in 1827.]


January 31st, 1819 {p.014}

I dined with Lady Bathurst yesterday. We talked of the
approaching contests in Parliament, and she said that she felt
more apprehensive now than ever she had done for the safety of
the Government, that it was impossible for Ministers to stay in
if they were defeated, as they had occasionally been in the last
Parliament, and that if they were defeated she should attribute
it all to Vansittart, who is a millstone about their necks. I
asked why they did not get rid of him, and she said that it was
from good-nature; they had scruples about telling him he was
inefficient and must resign. She said that Canning's conduct had
been so good towards them, they were very anxious to put him in
some more considerable office.


[Page Head: PRINCESS LIEVEN.]

February 3rd, 1819 {p.015}

I went with Bouverie to Newmarket on Monday to look at the
horses. On Wednesday I came to town and went on to Oatlands.
Madame de Lieven was there. This woman is excessively clever, and
when she chooses brilliantly agreeable. She is beyond all people
fastidious. She is equally conscious of her own superiority and
the inferiority of other people, and the contempt she has for the
understandings of the generality of her acquaintance has made her
indifferent to please and incapable of taking any delight in
general society. Her manners are very dignified and graceful, and
she is extremely accomplished. She sometimes endeavours to assume
popular and gracious manners, but she does this languidly and
awkwardly, because it is done with an effort. She carries _ennui_
to such a pitch that even in the society of her most intimate
friends she frequently owns that she is bored to death. She
writes memoirs, or rather a journal, of all that falls under her
observation. She is so clever, has so much imagination and
penetration, that they must be very entertaining. She writes as
well as talks with extraordinary ease and gracefulness, and both
her letters and her conversation are full of point; yet she is
not liked, and has made hardly any friends. Her manners are
stately and reserved, and so little _bonhomie_ penetrates through
her dignity that few feel sufficiently attracted to induce them
to try and thaw the ice in which she always seems bound.[26]

     [26] [A very imperfect character of Princess Lieven, with
          whom Mr. Greville was at this time but slightly
          acquainted. But in after years he became one of her
          most intimate and confidential friends, and she
          frequently reappears in the course of these memoirs.]


February 5th, 1819 {p.016}

I have finished Madame de Staël's 'Considérations sur la
Révolution Française.' It is the best of her works, extremely
eloquent, containing the soundest political opinions conveyed in
a bold and eloquent style. It is perhaps too philosophical
and not sufficiently relieved by anecdotes and historical
illustrations. Her defence of her father is written with much
enthusiasm and great plausibility, but the judgment of the world
concerning Necker is formed, and it is too late to alter it. The
effect of her eloquence is rather weakened by the recollection of
her conduct to him, for she lived with him as little as possible,
because she could not bear the _ennui_ of Coppet.[27]

     [27] [In the latter years of Madame de Staël's life Coppet
          became one of the most brilliant social resorts in
          Europe, for she attracted there the Schlegels, B.
          Constant, Bonstetten, Sismondi, Byron, and a host of
          other celebrities. Towards her father Madame de Staël
          expressed the most passionate regard.]


February 9th, 1819 {p.016}

The Opposition are in a state of the highest exultation on
account of the division in the House of Commons last night on
Brougham's being added to the Bank Committee. The numbers were
173 to 135. They triumph particularly in this strong minority
because the attack upon Brougham in the 'Quarterly Review' was
deemed so successful by the Ministerial party that they thought
he would not be able to lift up his head again. The review is
extremely well done, as all allow. It is supposed to be written
by Dr. Ireland [it was by Dr. Monk[28]], and that Canning
supplied the jokes, but Arbuthnot assured me he had no hand in
it.

     [28] [Dr. Monk, not Dr. Ireland, was the author of the
          article. Monk became Bishop of Gloucester in 1830. This
          passage relates to the celebrated article on the Report
          of Mr. Brougham's Committee on the Education of the
          People which appeared in the 'Quarterly Review' of
          December 1818. The article was a violent one, but it is
          amusing to see the effects attributed to it at the
          time. Some controversy has since taken place as to the
          share Canning had in it. I have myself seen the letters
          from Gifford (editor of the 'Review') to Dr. Monk, in
          which he speaks of the additions which have been made
          to the article; and there is the strongest internal
          evidence that these _purpurei panni_ were added by
          Canning. The subject is discussed in the 'Edinburgh
          Review' for July 1858.]


February 10th, 1819 {p.016}

Wilberforce made a speech last night which reminded one of the
better days of the House of Commons. He presented a petition from
the Quakers against the Criminal Code, and introduced a
compliment to Romilly. Castlereagh was in a minority in the
Committee concerning the equerries of the Windsor establishment;
he wished to keep two more than Tierney proposed; the latter had
eight to six in the Committee.[29]

     [29] [In consequence of the death of Queen Charlotte in the
          preceding month of November, the Government visited the
          Windsor establishment. The Duke of York was appointed
          _custos personae_ of the King, and received in that
          capacity £10,000 a year, which had previously been
          allowed to the Queen. A debate took place on this
          subject on the 25th of February, which is referred to
          by Mr. Greville under that date.]


February 14th, 1819 {p.017}

George Lamb has been proposed in opposition to Hobhouse.[30] The
latter drew this opposition upon himself by his speech, and still
more by the reports of his Committee, in which they abused the
Whigs in unmeasured terms. Lambton went to Hobhouse and asked him
if he would disavow the abuse of Lord Grey, which his Committee
had inserted in the document they printed; he refused, on which
the opposition was determined upon and begun. McDonald proposed
Lamb, but they would not hear him; Evans seconded him. G. Jones
made a very good speech in proposing Cartwright. Burdett and
Kinnaird both spoke with moderation in proposing Hobhouse. It is
generally supposed that Lamb will win.

     [30] [The death of Sir Samuel Romilly in November 1818
          caused a vacancy in the representation of Westminster,
          and another election took place upon the meeting of
          Parliament. The numbers were: Hon. George Lamb, 4,465;
          John Cam Hobhouse, 3,861; Major Cartwright, 38.]

Rogers' poem is disliked; the cry is all against it; some of the
lines are pretty, but it is not perspicuous enough, and is
deficient in novelty and force.


[Page Head: WESTMINSTER ELECTION.]

February 18th, 1819 {p.017}

Yesterday Lamb was only seven behind Hobhouse on the poll;
everybody thinks he is sure to win, even if Burdett should come
forward with money. The day before there was great uproar and
much abuse on the hustings. Burdett made a shameful speech full
of blasphemy and Jacobinism, but he seems to have lost his
popularity in a great measure even with the blackguards of
Westminster. Hobhouse yesterday was long and dull; he did not
speak like a clever man, and if the people would have heard Lamb,
and he has any dexterity in reply, he must have crushed him--it
was so answerable a speech.

I went to the Berrys[31] in the evening, where the blues and the
wits were assembled; as Sidney Smith said, 'the conversation
raged,' but there was nothing remarkably entertaining.

     [31] [Miss Berry's well-known _salon_, No. 8 Curzon Street,
          which was for more than a half a century the resort of
          the best company in London.]


[Page Head: PARTY SPIRIT.]

February 25th, 1819 {p.018}

The debate on the £10,000 to the Duke of York on Monday produced
four very good speeches--Peel and the Solicitor-General on one
part, and Tierney and Scarlett[32] on the other. This latter
spoke for the first time, and in reply to the two former. The
Opposition came to Brookes' full of admiration of his speech,
which is said to be the best _first speech_ that ever was made in
the House of Commons. I, who hear all parties and care for none,
have been amused with the different accounts of the debate; one
man says Peel's speech was the best of the night and the finest
that has been made in the House for a length of time; another
prefers the Solicitor-General's; then on the other side it is
said that Tierney was excellent, Mr. Scarlett beyond all praise.
The friends of Government allow great merit to the two latter
speakers, but declare that Peel was unanswerable, besides having
been beautifully eloquent, and that Scarlett's speech was a
fallacy from beginning to end. Again I am told Peel was not good;
his was a speech for effect, evidently prepared, showy, but not
argumentative; Scarlett triumphantly refuted all his reasoning.
Thus it is that a fair judgment is never formed upon any
question; the spirit of party influences every man's opinions. It
is not extraordinary that each individual of a party connected by
general similarity of opinion should adhere to the great body,
even in cases where he may not happen to agree with them, and
excellent reasons may be adduced for his sacrificing his own view
for the great object of unanimity; but it is very improbable that
on a particular question, unconnected with any general system,
where arguments are adduced from opposite sides, and submitted to
the enlightened judgment of an assembly, the same arguments which
are looked upon as satisfactory and unanswerable by one set of
men should be deemed without exception utterly fallacious by
another. If any proof were requisite of the mighty influence of
party spirit, it would be found in a still stronger light in the
State trials in the House of Lords. I have in my mind the trial
of Lord Melville; when each Peer had to deliver his judicial
opinion upon the evidence adduced in a matter so solemn, and in
the discharge of a duty so sacred, it might be imagined that all
party feelings would be laid aside, and that a mature judgment
and an enlightened conscience would alone have regulated the
conduct of every individual. Yet either by an extraordinary
accident or by the influence of party spirit we beheld all the
Peers on the Ministerial side of the House declaring Lord
Melville innocent, and all those of the Opposition pronouncing
him guilty.

     [32] [Sir James Scarlett, afterwards Lord Abinger and Lord
          Chief Baron. It is remarkable that his first speech in
          the House of Commons was delivered on the Whig side of
          the House. He afterwards became a decided Tory.]


March 5th, 1819 {p.019}

George Lamb was to have been chaired on the day he was elected,
but the mob was outrageous and would not suffer it. They broke
into his committee room, and he and McDonald were forced to creep
out of a two pair of stairs window into the churchyard. His
partisans, who assembled on horseback, were attacked and pelted,
and forced to retreat after receiving many hard knocks. In the
evening the mob paraded the town, and broke the windows of Lord
Castlereagh's and Lord Sefton's houses.

The other night Sir James Mackintosh[33] made a splendid speech
on the Criminal Laws; it was temperate and eloquent, and excited
universal admiration. The Ministerial party spoke as highly of it
as the Opposition themselves. Last night Canning moved the thanks
to Lord Hastings, and they say it was the finest speech he ever
made, in the best taste, the clearest narrative, and the most
beautiful language.

     [33] [Sir James Mackintosh's motion for the appointment of a
          Committee on Capital Punishments was carried against
          the Government on the 2nd of March by 148 to 128.]


June 12th, 1819 {p.020}

I have been at Oatlands for the Ascot party. On the course I did
nothing. Ever since the Derby ill fortune has pursued me, and I
cannot win anywhere. Play is a detestable occupation; it absorbs
all our thoughts and renders us unfit for everything else in
life. It is hurtful to the mind and destroys the better feelings;
it incapacitates us for study and application of every sort; it
makes us thoughtful and nervous; and our cheerfulness depends
upon the uncertain event of our nightly occupation. How anyone
can play who is not in want of money I cannot comprehend; surely
his mind must be strangely framed who requires the stimulus of
gambling to heighten his pleasures. Some indeed may have become
attached to gaming from habit, and may not wish to throw off the
habit from the difficulty of finding fresh employment for the
mind at an advanced period of life. Some may be unfitted by
nature or taste for society, and for such gaming may have a
powerful attraction. The mind is excited; at the gaming-table all
men are equal; no superiority of birth, accomplishments, or
ability avail here; great noblemen, merchants, orators, jockies,
statesmen, and idlers are thrown together in levelling confusion;
the only pre-eminence is that of success, the only superiority
that of temper. But why does a man play who is blessed with
fortune, endowed with understanding, and adorned with accomplishments
which might ensure his success in any pursuit which taste or
fancy might incite him to follow? It is contrary to reason, but
we see such instances every day. The passion of play is not
artificial; it must have existed in certain minds from the
beginning; at least some must have been so constituted that they
yield at once to the attraction, and enter with avidity into a
pursuit in which other men can never take the least interest.


June 14th, 1819 {p.020}

The other night in the House of Commons on the Foreign Enlistment
Bill Sir James Mackintosh made a brilliant speech; all parties
agree in commending it. Canning answered him, but not successfully.
The Duke of Wellington told me on Friday that there was a good
debate in the House of Lords the night before on the Catholic
question, but he thought his side had the worst of it; he
acknowledged that Lord Grey's speech had done much to shake his
opinion, and that he had not conceived that his propositions
would have been framed in so unobjectionable a manner.[34]

     [34] [On the 10th of June Earl Grey submitted to the House
          of Lords a Bill to relieve Roman Catholics from taking
          the declaratory oaths against Transubstantiation and
          the Invocation of Saints. On this occasion, for the
          first time, Lord Grenville supported the Catholic
          claims. But the Bill was thrown out by 141 to 92.]


[Page Head: PERSIAN AMBASSADOR AND THE REGENT.]

June 25th, 1819 {p.021}

The Persian Ambassador has had a quarrel with the Court. He
wanted to have precedence over all other Ambassadors, and because
this was not allowed he was affronted and would not go to Court.
This mark of disrespect was resented, and it was signified to him
that his presence would be dispensed with at Carlton House, and
that the Ministers could no longer receive him at their houses.
On Sunday last the Regent went to Lady Salisbury's, where he met
the Persian, who, finding he had given offence, had made a sort
of apology, and said that illness had prevented him from going to
Court. The Regent came up to him and said, 'Well, my good friend,
how are you? I hope you are better?' He said, 'Oh, sir, I am very
well, but I am very sorry I offended your Royal Highness by not
going to Court. Now, sir, my Sovereign he tell me to go first,
and your Congress, about which I know nothing, say I must go
last; now this very bad for me (pointing to his head) when I go
back to Persia.' The Regent said, 'Well, my good friend, never
mind it now; it does not signify.' He answered, 'Oh yes, sir; but
your Royal Highness still angry with me, and you have not asked
me to your party to-morrow night.' The Regent laughed and said,
'I was only going to have a few children to dance, but if you
like to come I shall be very happy to see you.' Accordingly he
went to Carlton House, and they are very good friends again.


August 11th, 1819 {p.021}

The Vice-Chancellor was going to Italy, but his journey is
stopped, as he says, because the Prince Regent has desired him to
stay in England in consequence of the approaching return of the
Princess of Wales.


August 30th, 1819 {p.022}

I am just returned from Oatlands; we had an immense party, the
most numerous ever known there. The Duchess wished it to have
been prolonged, but there were no funds. The distress they are in
is inconceivable. When the Duchess came down there was no water
in the house. She asked the reason, and was informed that the
water came by pipes from St. George's Hill, which were stopped up
with sand; and as the workmen were never paid, they would not
clear them out. She ordered the pipes to be cleared and the bills
brought to her, which was done. On Thursday there was a great
distress, as the steward had no money to pay the tradespeople,
and the Duke was prevailed on with great difficulty to produce a
small sum for the purpose. The house is nearly in ruins.


December 24th, 1819 {p.022}

The Duke of Kent gave the name of Alexandrina to his daughter[35]
in compliment to the Emperor of Russia. She was to have had the
name of Georgiana, but the Duke insisted upon Alexandrina being
her first name. The Regent sent for Lieven and made him a great
many compliments (_en le persiflant_) on the Emperor's being
godfather, but informed him that the name of Georgiana could be
second to no other in this country, and therefore she could not
bear it at all.

     [35] [The Princess, afterwards Queen, Victoria, born 24th of
          May, 1819.]

The frost is intense. The town is empty. I returned from Whersted
last Wednesday se'nnight, and went to Oatlands on Thursday; there
was nearly the same party. Prince Leopold came and dined there on
Saturday. He is very dull and heavy in his manner, and seems
overcome with the weight of his dignity. This Prince will not
succeed here; everybody is civil to him from the interest he
excited at the time of the Princess's death--an interest which
has not yet subsided. There seems to be no harm in him, but
everybody contrasts his manners with those of the Duke of York,
and the comparison is not to his advantage. The Duchess likes the
society of men of wit and letters; more, I think, from the
variety of having them around her than from any pleasure she
takes in their conversation. Lord Alvanley is the man in whom she
takes the greatest delight.


                              1820.


London, January 20th, 1820 {p.023}

I went last Sunday se'nnight to Woburn. The Duke of York, Duke of
Wellington, Lievens, Jerseys, Worcesters, Tavistocks, Mr.
Russell, Lady Sandwich, Alvanley, C. Smith, Huntleys, Frederick
Ponsonby, Lauderdale, and others were there. The house, place,
establishment, and manner of living are magnificent. The _chasse_
was brilliant; in five days we killed 835 pheasants, 645 hares,
59 rabbits, 10 partridges, and 5 woodcocks. The Duchess was very
civil and the party very gay. I won at whist, and liked it very
much.


January 22nd, 1820 {p.023}

Just before the advance of the allied army on Paris a council of
war was held, when it was unanimously resolved to retreat. The
Emperor of Russia entered the room, and said he had reasons for
advancing, and ordered the advance; the generals remonstrated,
but the Emperor was determined. Woronzoff told Sydenham that that
day a courier arrived at his outposts with a letter for the
Emperor in the handwriting of Talleyrand. This was told me by
Frederick Ponsonby.


[Page Head: ILLNESS OF GEORGE IV.]

February 4th, 1820 {p.023}

I returned to Woburn on Sunday. We shot the whole week and killed
an immense quantity of game; the last two days we killed 245 and
296 pheasants, 822 and 431 head. On Sunday last arrived the news
of the King's death.[36] The new King has been desperately ill.
He had a bad cold at Brighton, for which he lost eighty ounces of
blood; yet he afterwards had a severe oppression, amounting
almost to suffocation, on his chest. Halford was gone to Windsor,
and left orders with Knighton not to bleed him again till his
return. Knighton was afraid to bleed him. Bloomfield sent for
Tierney,[37] who took upon himself to take fifty ounces from him.
This gave him relief; he continued, however, dangerously ill, and
on Wednesday he lost twenty ounces more. Yesterday afternoon he
was materially better for the first time. Tierney certainly saved
his life, for he must have died if he had not been blooded.
Brougham sent a courier to the Queen immediately after the late
King's death, and gave notice at Carlton House that he had
applied for a passport for a courier to her Majesty the Queen.

     [36] [King George III. died on the 20th of January, 1820.]

     [37] [Sir Matthew Tierney, one of His Majesty's physicians.]

The King has given to Lady Bloomfield the Rangership of Hampton
Court Park. He wished to give it to both of them with the
survivorship, but Lord Liverpool submitted to him that the
House of Commons had pronounced so strongly their dislike to
reversionary grants that it would be unadvisable, and it was
accordingly given to Lady B. only.


February 14th, 1820 {p.024}

The Cabinet sat till past two o'clock this morning. The King
refused several times to order the Queen to be prayed for in the
alteration which was made in the Liturgy. The Ministers wished
him to suffer it to be done, but he peremptorily refused, and
said nothing should induce him to consent, whoever might ask him.
Lord Harrowby told me this last night.

[Page Head: NAPOLEON IN THE HUNDRED DAYS.]

I think Fleury's book[38] almost the most interesting memoir I
ever read; it is excessively well written, and his partiality to
Bonaparte has not blinded him to the errors he committed. This
book was wanted to bring under the same view the immediate causes
of his return to France and the situation in which he found
himself when seated on the throne. This was essentially different
from that in which he had been before his abdication; so much so
that I do not believe, if he had concluded a peace with the
Allies, he could have remained upon the throne. Not only his
civil power was reduced within very narrow limits, but his
military authority was no longer the same; men seemed to have
lost that reverential submissiveness which caused all his orders
to be so blindly and implicitly obeyed. During the height of his
power none of his generals would have dared to neglect or oppose
his orders as Ney did at the battles of the 16th of June. It is
impossible now to determine what might have been the political
result in France of the success of Bonaparte's arms had he gained
the battle of Waterloo. He would probably have made peace with
the Allies. Had he returned to Paris triumphant, he might have
dissolved the Chambers and re-established the old Imperial
Government. In such a measure he must have depended upon his army
for success. But a spirit of liberty had sprung up in France
during his absence, which seemed to be the more vigorous from
having been so long repressed. The nation, and even the army,
appear to have imbibed the principles of freedom; and if upon
this occasion Bonaparte was placed on the throne by the force of
opinion, he could not have restored the ancient despotism without
exciting universal dissatisfaction. Men seem formerly to have
been awed by a conviction of his infallibility, and did not
suffer themselves to reason upon the principles of action of a
man who dazzled their imaginations by the magnificence of his
exploits and the grandeur of his system.

     [38] [M. Fleury de Chabaulon was a young _auditeur_ at the
          Conseil d'État who had joined Napoleon at Elba, and
          afterwards returned with him to France, when he was
          attached to the Imperial Cabinet during the Hundred
          Days. His memoir of that period is here referred to.]


February 20th, 1820 {p.025}

The Ministers had resigned last week because the King would not
hear reason on the subject of the Princess. It is said that he
treated Lord Liverpool very coarsely, and ordered him out of the
room. The King, they say, asked him 'if he knew to whom he was
speaking.' He replied, 'Sir, I know that I am speaking to my
Sovereign, and I believe I am addressing him as it becomes a
loyal subject to do.' To the Chancellor he said, 'My Lord, I know
your conscience always interferes except where your interest is
concerned.' The King afterwards sent for Lord Liverpool, who
refused at first to go; but afterwards, on the message being
reiterated, he went, and the King said, 'We have both been too
hasty.' This is probably all false, but it is very true that they
offered to resign.


[Page Head: THE CATO STREET CONSPIRACY.]

February 24th, 1820 {p.026}

The plot[39] which has been detected had for its object the
destruction of the Cabinet Ministers, and the chief actor in the
conspiracy was Arthur Thistlewood. I was at Lady Harrowby's last
night, and about half-past one o'clock Lord Harrowby came in and
told us the following particulars:--A plot has been in agitation
for some time past, of the existence of which, the names and
numbers of the men concerned, and of all particulars concerning
their plans, Government has been perfectly well informed. The
conspirators had intended to execute their design about last
Christmas at a Cabinet dinner at Lord Westmoreland's, but for
some reason they were unable to do so and deferred it. At length
Government received information that they were to assemble to the
number of from twenty to thirty at a house in Cato Street,
Edgware Road, and that they had resolved to execute their purpose
last night, when the Cabinet would be at dinner at Lord
Harrowby's. Dinner was ordered as usual. Men had been observed
watching the house, both in front and rear, during the whole
afternoon. It was believed that nine o'clock was the hour fixed
upon for the assault to be made. The Ministers who were expected
at dinner remained at Fife House, and at eight o'clock Mr. Birnie
with twelve constables was despatched to Cato Street to apprehend
the conspirators. Thirty-five foot guards were ordered to support
the police force. The constables arrived upon the spot a few
moments before the soldiers, and suspecting that the conspirators
had received intimation of the discovery of their plot, and were
in consequence preparing to escape, they did not wait for the
soldiers, but went immediately to the house. A man armed with a
musket was standing sentry, whom they secured. They then ascended
a narrow staircase which led to the room in which the gang were
assembled, and burst the door open. The first man who entered was
shot in the head, but was only wounded; he who followed was
stabbed by Thistlewood and killed. The conspirators then with
their swords put out the lights and attempted to escape. By this
time the soldiers had arrived. Nine men were taken prisoners;
Thistlewood and the rest escaped.

     [39] [The Cato Street Conspiracy.]


March 1st, 1820 {p.027}

Thistlewood was taken the morning after the affair in Cato
Street. It was the intention of these men to have fired a rocket
from Lord Harrowby's house as soon as they had completed their
work of destruction; this was to have been the signal for the
rising of their friends. An oil shop was to have been set on fire
to increase the confusion and collect a mob; then the Bank was to
have been attacked and the gates of Newgate thrown open. The
heads of the Ministers were to have been cut off and put in a
sack which was prepared for that purpose. These are great
projects, but it does not appear they were ever in force
sufficient to put them in execution, and the mob (even if the mob
had espoused their cause, which seems doubtful), though very
dangerous in creating confusion and making havoc, are quite
inefficient for a regular operation.


June 4th, 1820 {p.027}

I went to Oatlands on Tuesday. The Duchess continues very ill;
she is not expected to recover. The King was at Ascot every day;
he generally rode on the course, and the ladies came in
carriages. One day they all rode. He was always cheered by the
mob as he went away. One day only a man in the crowd called out,
'Where's the Queen?' The Duke of Dorset was at the Cottage, and
says it was exceedingly agreeable. They kept very early hours.
The King always breakfasted with them, and Lady Conyngham looked
remarkably well in the morning, her complexion being so fine. On
Friday she said she was bored with the races and should not go;
he accordingly would not go either, and sent word to say he
should not be there. They stay there till to-morrow. In the
meantime the Queen is coming to England, and Brougham is gone to
meet her. Nobody knows what advice he intends to give her, but
everybody believes that it is his intention she should come. It
was supposed that Lady Conyngham's family (her son and brother)
had set their faces against her connection with the King; but
Lord Mount Charles was at the Cottage, and Denison was at the
levee and very well received.


[Page Head: THE QUEEN'S RETURN.]

June 7th, 1820 {p.028}

The Queen arrived in London yesterday at seven o'clock. I rode as
far as Greenwich to meet her. The road was thronged with an
immense multitude the whole way from Westminster Bridge to
Greenwich. Carriages, carts, and horsemen followed, preceded, and
surrounded her coach the whole way. She was everywhere received
with the greatest enthusiasm. Women waved pocket handkerchiefs,
and men shouted wherever she passed. She travelled in an open
landau, Alderman Wood sitting by her side and Lady Ann Hamilton
and another woman opposite. Everybody was disgusted at the
vulgarity of Wood in sitting in the place of honour, while the
Duke of Hamilton's sister was sitting backwards in the carriage.
The Queen looked exactly as she did before she left England, and
seemed neither dispirited nor dismayed. As she passed by White's
she bowed and smiled to the men who were in the window. The crowd
was not great in the streets through which she passed. Probably
people had ceased to expect her, as it was so much later than the
hour designated for her arrival. It is impossible to conceive the
sensation created by this event. Nobody either blames or approves
of her sudden return, but all ask, 'What will be done next? How
is it to end?' In the House of Commons there was little said; but
the few words which fell from Creevy, Bennett, or Denman seem to
threaten most stormy debates whenever the subject is discussed.
The King in the meantime is in excellent spirits, and the
Ministers affect the greatest unconcern and talk of the time it
will take to pass the Bills to 'settle her business.' 'Her
business,' as they call it, will in all probability raise such a
tempest as they will find it beyond their powers to appease; and
for all his Majesty's unconcern the day of her arrival in England
may be such an anniversary to him as he will have no cause to
celebrate with much rejoicing.[40]

     [40] [On the day that the Queen landed at Dover a royal
          message was sent down to Parliament, by which the King
          commended to the Lords an enquiry into the conduct of
          the Queen. In the House of Commons there was some
          vehement speaking; and on the following day, before
          Lord Castlereagh moved the address in answer to the
          message, Mr. Brougham read to the House a message from
          the Queen, declaring that her return to England was
          occasioned by the necessity her enemies had laid upon
          her of defending her character.]


June 9th, 1820 {p.029}

Brougham's speech on Wednesday is said by his friends to have
been one of the best that was ever made, and I think all agree
that it was good and effective. The House of Commons is evidently
anxious to get rid of the question if possible, for the moment
Wilberforce expressed a wish to adjourn the county members rose
one after another and so strongly concurred in that wish that
Castlereagh was obliged to consent. The mob have been breaking
windows in all parts of the town and pelting those who would not
take off their hats as they passed Wood's door. Last night Lord
Exmouth's house was assaulted and his windows broken, when he
rushed out armed with sword and pistol and drove away the mob.
Frederick Ponsonby saw him. Great sums of money have been won and
lost on the Queen's return, for there was much betting at the
clubs. The alderman showed a specimen of his taste as he came
into London; when the Queen's coach passed Carlton House he stood
up and gave three cheers.

It is odd enough Lady Hertford's windows have been broken to
pieces and the frames driven in, while no assault has been made
on Lady Conyngham's. Somebody asked Lady Hertford 'if she had
been aware of the King's admiration for Lady Conyngham,' and
'whether he had ever talked to her about Lady C.' She replied
that 'intimately as she had known the King, and openly as he had
always talked to her upon every subject, he had never ventured to
speak to her upon that of his mistresses.'


June 16th, 1820 {p.029}

The speech which Canning made on the occasion of the King's
message has been violently attacked by all parties, and is said
to have given as great dissatisfaction to the Queen as to the
King. It is not easy to discover what the Queen could have
objected to in the speech, for it was highly favourable and
flattering to her. It was generally supposed last Sunday that he
would resign in the course of the week, and bets were laid that
he would not be in office next Sunday. On Wednesday he had an
audience of the King at the levee, which lasted fifty-two minutes
by Yarmouth's watch; nobody knows what passed between them. Lord
Fitzwilliam and Lord Sefton have refused to act as negotiators
for the Queen.

There was some indiscipline manifested in a battalion of the 3rd
Guards the day before yesterday; they were dissatisfied at the
severity of their duty and at some allowances that had been taken
from them, and on coming off guard they refused to give up their
ball cartridges. They were ordered off to Plymouth, and marched
at four yesterday morning. Many people went from the ball at
Devonshire House to see them march away. Plymouth was afterwards
changed for Portsmouth in consequence of their good behaviour on
the route. Worcester[41] met many of them drunk at Brentford,
crying out, 'God save Queen Caroline!' There was some disturbance
last night in consequence of the mob assembling round the King's
mews, where the rest of the battalion that had marched to
Portsmouth still remained.

     [41] [The Marquis of Worcester, afterwards seventh Duke of
          Beaufort]


[Page Head: SECRET COMMITTEE ON THE QUEEN.]

June 23rd, 1820 {p.030}

I never remember to have seen the public curiosity so excited as
on Wilberforce's motion last night.[42] Nearly 520 members voted
in the House, and some went away; as many people as could gain
admission attended to hear the debate. The speaking on the
Opposition side was excellent, but as everybody differs in
opinion with regard to the comparative merit of the speakers, it
is impossible for one who was not present to form a correct
judgment on the subject. The best speeches were Brougham's,
Denman's, Burdett's, and Canning's. Denman's speech was admirable
and, all agree, most judicious and effective for his client.
Burdett's was extremely clever, particularly the first part of
it. In the meantime it is doubtful whether anything is gained by
the resolution carried last night. Public opinion seems very
equally divided as to the probability of the Queen agreeing to
the expressed or implied wish of the House of Commons, and even
if she refuses to consent to the omission of her name in the
Liturgy it seems doubtful whether the green bag will ever be
opened, so strong is the repugnance of the House of Commons to
enter upon such an investigation. It is this feeling in the House
which emboldens the Queen to hold out with the firmness and
constancy she has hitherto displayed. The House of Lords cuts a
most ridiculous figure, having precipitately agreed to go into
the Committee. They have since been obliged to put off the
investigation by repeated adjournments, in order to see what
steps the House of Commons will take. Lord Grey made an indignant
speech, last night on this very subject; they say Lord Liverpool
spoke remarkably well in reply.

     [42] [Mr. Wilberforce moved an address to the Queen to stop
          the investigation, by entreating her Majesty, under the
          assurance of the protection of her honour by the
          Commons, to yield the point of the insertion of her
          name in the Liturgy. This proposal the Queen
          courteously declined.]


June 25th, 1820 {p.031}

The Queen's refusal to comply with the desire of the House of
Commons keeps conjecture afloat and divides opinions as to the
opening of the bag. The Opposition call her answer a very good
one; those of the other party I have seen think it too long, and
not neatly and clearly worded. Brougham declined advising her as
to her answer; he told her she must be guided by her own
feelings, and was herself the only person capable of judging what
she had best do. The discussion of the Queen's business is now
become an intolerable nuisance in society; no other subject is
ever talked of. It is an incessant matter of argument and dispute
what will be done and what ought to be done. All people express
themselves tired of the subject, yet none talk or think of any
other. It is a great evil when a single subject of interest takes
possession of society; conversation, loses all its lightness and
variety, and every drawing-room is converted into an arena of
political disputation. People even go to talk about it from habit
long after the interest it excited has ceased.


June 27th, 1820 {p.031}

The mob was very abusive to the member who carried up the
resolution to the Queen, and called Wilberforce 'Dr. Cantwell.'
The Queen demanded to be heard by counsel at the bar of the House
of Lords. Contrary to order and contrary to expectation, the
counsel were admitted, when Brougham made a very powerful speech.
Denman began exceedingly well; Lord Holland said his first three
or four sentences were the best thing he ever heard; _si sic
omnia_, he would have made the finest speech possible; but on the
whole he was inferior to Brougham. If the House had refused to
hear her counsel, it is said that she would have gone down to-day
to the House of Lords and have demanded to be heard in person. As
usual Brougham's speech is said by many of his political
adversaries to have been weak in argument. Many, however, do him
the justice to acknowledge that it was a very powerful appeal for
his client.


June 28th, 1820 {p.032}

The debate last night in the House of Lords was excellent. Lord
Grey made a powerful speech, very much against the Queen, a
speech for office. The manager announced at Drury Lane that the
Queen would go to the play to-night. Brougham knew nothing of
this; she never told him. Mrs. Brougham told me so last night,
and that he was quite worn out with the business.[43]

     [43] [The report of the Secret Committee of the Lords was
          made on the 4th of July. It declared that the evidence
          against the Queen was such as to demand a solemn
          enquiry. The trial, or rather investigation, began on
          the 17th of August. The defence was opened on the 3rd
          of October, and the Bill was abandoned on the 6th of
          November.]


July 6th, 1820 {p.032}

Since the report of the Secret Committee public opinion is
entirely changed as to the result of the proceedings against the
Queen. Everybody thinks the charges will be proved and that the
King will be divorced. It is impossible to discover what effect
the report may have in the country; it is certain hitherto that
all ranks of men have been decidedly favourable to the Queen, and
disbelieve the charges against her. The military in London have
shown alarming symptoms of dissatisfaction, so much so that it
seems doubtful how far the Guards can be counted upon in case of
any disturbance arising out of this subject. Luttrell says that
'the extinguisher is taking fire.'


[Page Head: THE QUEEN'S TRIAL]

July 8th, 1820 {p.033}

I was in the House of Lords the night before last to hear
Brougham and Denman speak at the bar. Brougham's speech was
uncommonly clever, very insolent, and parts of it very eloquent.
A very amusing episode was furnished by the Bishop of Exeter, who
moved that the counsel should withdraw, and then asked the House
whether they were not out of order. Lord Holland cut him up in
the most beautiful style, and excited universal laughter. Nobody
came to the assistance of the Bishop, and the counsel were called
in again and resumed. Brougham's speech is reported in the
'Morning Chronicle' of yesterday word for word.


July 14th, 1820 {p.033}

I have been at Newmarket, where I had the first fortunate turn
this year. The conversation about the Queen begins to subside;
everybody seems to agree that it is a great injustice not to
allow her lists of the witnesses; the excuse that it is not usual
is bad, for the proceedings are anomalous altogether, and it is
absurd to attempt to adhere to precedent; here there are no
precedents and no analogies to guide to a decision. London is
drawing to a close, but in August it will be very full, as all
the Peers must be here. They say the trial will last six months.

Luttrell's poem[44] has succeeded. The approbation it receives is
general but qualified; in fact, it was difficult to make such a
sketch of life and manners sufficiently piquant without the
infusion of a little satire, and his fear of giving offence has
induced him to be so good-natured that he is occasionally rather
insipid. 'Il y a des tracasseries de société.' I cannot record
them, though perhaps years hence, when I may look over what I now
write, I might be amused with stories of long-forgotten
jealousies and various interests extinguished by the lapse of
time, or perhaps silenced in the grave; still it would be
melancholy to retrace the days of my youth and to bring before my
imagination the blooming faces and the gaiety and brilliancy of
those who once shone the meteors of society, but who would then
be so changed in form and mind, and with myself rapidly
descending to our last home.

     [44] [Mr. Luttrell's 'Advice to Julia,' published in 1820.]

Read 'Les Liaisons dangereuses.' Much has been said about the
dangerous tendency of certain books, and probably this would be
considered as one pregnant with mischief. I consider this a mere
jargon, and although I would never recommend this book (because
it is so grossly indecent) I should never apprehend the smallest
danger to the most inexperienced mind or the warmest passions
from its immoral tendency. The principle upon which books of this
description are considered pernicious is the notion that they
represent vice in such glowing and attractive colours as to make
us lose sight of its deformity and fill our imagination with the
idea of its pleasures. No one who has any feeling or a spark of
generosity or humanity in his breast can read this book without
being moved with compassion for Madame de Tourval and with horror
and disgust towards Valmont and Madame de Merteuil. It raised in
my mind a detestation of such cold-blooded, inhuman profligacy,
and I felt that I would rather every pleasure that can flow from
the intercourse of women were debarred me than run such a course.
The moral effect upon my mind was stronger than any which ever
resulted from the most didactic work, and if anyone wants to
excite remorse in the most vicious mind I would recommend him to
make use of 'Les Liaisons dangereuses' for the purpose.

The Duchess of York died on Sunday morning of water on her chest.
She was insensible the last two days. She is deeply regretted by
her husband, her friends, and her servants. Probably no person in
such a situation was ever more really liked. She has left £12,000
to her servants and some children whom she had caused to be
educated. She had arranged all her affairs with the greatest
exactitude, and left nothing undone.

[Page Head: THE QUEEN'S TRIAL.]

The Queen's letter was brought to the King whilst he was at
dinner (at the Cottage). He said, 'Tell the Queen's messenger
that the King can receive no communication from her except
through the hands of his Ministers.' Esterhazy was present, and
said he did this with extraordinary dignity.


Newmarket, October 2nd, 1820 {p.035}

I left town in the middle of August with George Fox. We went down
with extraordinary rapidity. I never was happier than to escape
from London and to find myself in Yorkshire. It was a new world,
and the change was most refreshing. The refinement of London was
not there, but there was a good humour, gaiety, and hospitality
which amused and delighted me.


London, October 8th, 1820 {p.035}

I came to town with Payne on Friday, having won a little at
Newmarket. He told me a good story by the way. A certain bishop
in the House of Lords rose to speak, and announced that he should
divide what he had to say into twelve parts, when the Duke of
Wharton interrupted him, and begged he might be indulged for a
few minutes, as he had a story to tell which he could only
introduce at that moment. A drunken fellow was passing by St.
Paul's at night, and heard the clock slowly chiming twelve. He
counted the strokes, and when it had finished looked towards the
clock and said, 'Damn you! why couldn't you give us all that at
once?' There was an end of the bishop's story.

The town is still in an uproar about the trial, and nobody has
any doubt that it will finish by the Bill being thrown out and
the Ministers turned out. Brougham's speech was the most
magnificent display of argument and oratory that has been heard
for years, and they say that the impression it made upon the
House was immense; even his most violent opponents (including
Lord Lonsdale) were struck with admiration and astonishment.


[Page Head: THE QUEEN'S TRIAL.]

October 15th, 1820 {p.035}

Since I came to town I have been to the trial every day. I have
occupied a place close to Brougham, which, besides the advantage
it affords of enabling me to hear extremely well everything that
passes, gives me the pleasure of talking to him and the other
counsel, and puts me behind the scenes so far that I cannot help
hearing all their conversation, their remarks, and learning what
witnesses they are going to examine, and many other things which
are interesting and amusing. Since I have been in the world I
never remember any question which so exclusively occupied
everybody's attention, and so completely absorbed men's thoughts
and engrossed conversation. In the same degree is the violence
displayed. It is taken up as a party question entirely, and the
consequence is that everybody is gone mad about it. Very few
people admit of any medium between pronouncing the Queen quite
innocent and judging her guilty and passing the Bill. Until the
evidence of Lieut. Hownam it was generally thought that proofs of
her guilt were wanting, but since his admission that Bergami
slept under the tent with her all unprejudiced men seem to think
the adultery sufficiently proved. The strenuous opposers of the
Bill, however, by no means allow this, and make a mighty
difference between sleeping dressed under a tent and being shut
up at night in a room together, which the supporters of the Bill
contend would have been quite or nearly the same thing. The Duke
of Portland, who is perfectly impartial, and who has always been
violently against the Bill, was so satisfied by Hownam's evidence
that he told me that after that admission by him he thought all
further proceedings useless, and that it was ridiculous to listen
to any more evidence, as the fact was proved; that he should
attend no longer to any evidence upon the subject. This view of
the case will not, however, induce him to vote for the Bill,
because he thinks that upon grounds of expediency it ought not to
pass. The Ministers were elated in an extraordinary manner by
this evidence of Hownam's. The Duke of Wellington told Madame de
Lieven that he was very tired; 'mais les grands succès fatiguent
autant que les grands revers.' They look upon the progress of
this trial in the light of a campaign, and upon each day's
proceedings as a sort of battle, and by the impression made by
the evidence they consider that they have gained a victory or
sustained a defeat. Their anxiety that this Bill should pass is
quite inconceivable, for it cannot be their interest that it
should be carried; and as for the King, they have no feeling
whatever for him. The Duke of Portland told me that he conversed
with the Duke of Wellington upon the subject, and urged as one of
the reasons why this Bill should not pass the House of Lords the
disgrace that it would entail upon the King by the recrimination
that would ensue in the House of Commons. His answer was 'that
the King was degraded as low as he could be already.' The
vehemence with which they pursue this object produces a
corresponding violence in their language and sentiments. Lady
Harrowby, who is usually very indifferent upon political
subjects, has taken this up with unusual eagerness. In an
argument which I had with her the day before yesterday, she said
that if the House of Lords was to suffer itself to be influenced
by the opinions and wishes of the people, it would be the most
mean and pusillanimous conduct, and that after all what did it
signify what the people thought or what they expressed if the
army was to be depended upon? I answered that I never had
expected that the day would come when I should be told that we
were to disregard the feelings and wishes of the people of this
country, and to look to our army for support. In proportion
as the Ministers were elated by what came out in Hownam's
cross-examination so were they depressed by the unlucky affair of
Rastelli,[45] which has given such an important advantage to
their adversaries. Mr. Powell's explanation was extremely
unsatisfactory, and in his examination yesterday they elicited
from him what is tantamount to a contradiction of what he had
said the day before. It is not possible to doubt what is the real
state of the case. Rastelli is an active, useful agent, and they
had occasion for his services; consequently they sent him off,
and trusted that he would be back here before he could possibly
be called for, if ever he should be called for again. It was a
rash speculation, which failed. The last two days have been more
amusing and interesting than the preceding ones. The debates in
the House, a good deal of violence, and some personalities have
given spirit to the proceedings, which were getting very dull.
Lord Holland made a violent speech, and Lord Carnarvon a clever
one, which was violent enough too, on Rastelli's affair. Lord
Holland made one or two little speeches which were very comical.
Lord Lauderdale made a violent speech the other day, and paid
himself in it a great many compliments. It must be acknowledged
that the zeal of many of the Peers is very embarrassing,
displayed as it is not in the elucidation of the truth, but in
furtherance of that cause of which they desire the success. There
is no one more violent than Lord Lauderdale,[46] and neither the
Attorney-General nor the Solicitor-General can act with greater
zeal than he does in support of the Bill. Lord Liverpool is a
model of fairness, impartiality, and candour. The Chancellor is
equally impartial, and as he decides personally all disputes on
legal points which are referred to the House, his fairness has
been conspicuous in having generally decided in favour of the
Queen's counsel. Yesterday morning some discussion arose about a
question which Brougham put to Powell. He asked him who was his
principal, as he was an agent. The question was objected to, and
he began to defend it in an uncommonly clever speech, but was
stopped before he had spoken long. He introduced a very ingenious
quotation which was suggested to him by Spencer Perceval, who was
standing near him. Talking of the airy, unsubstantial being who
was the principal, and one of the parties in this cause, he said
he wished to meet

                                        This shape--
         If shape it could be called--that shape had none,
         Distinguishable in member, joint, or limb;
         Or substance might be called that shadow seemed,
         For each seemed either . . .
                             What seemed its head
         The likeness of a kingly crown had on.
                                 _Paradise Lost_, ii. 666.

     [45] [Rastelli was a witness for the Bill--not a very
          important one. After his examination was over he was
          allowed to leave the country. Brougham found this out,
          and instantly demanded that he should be recalled for
          further cross-examination, well knowing this could not
          at the moment be done. This answered his purpose, and
          he then turned with incredible vehemence on the other
          side, and accused them of spiriting away the witness.]

     [46] [In the course of the trial, in order to show that the
          Queen had associated in Italy with ladies of good
          character, it was stated that a Countess T----
          frequented her society at Florence. On
          cross-examination it came out that the Countess spoke a
          provincial dialect, anything but the purest Tuscan,
          whence it was implied that she was a vulgar person, and
          Lord Lauderdale especially pointed out this inference,
          speaking himself in very broad Scotch. Upon which
          Lord ----, a member of the Opposition, said to the
          witness, 'Have the goodness to state whether Countess
          T---- spoke Italian with as broad an accent as the
          noble Earl who has just sat down speaks with in his
          native tongue.' The late Sir Henry Holland was present
          when this occurred, and used to relate the anecdote.]


[Page Head: WELLINGTON'S ACCOUNT OF WATERLOO.]

Whersted, December 10th, 1820 {p.039}

I left Woburn on Thursday night last, and got here on Friday
morning. The Lievens, Worcesters, Duke of Wellington, Neumann,
and Montagu were here. The Duke went away yesterday. We acted
charades, which were very well done. Yesterday we went to shoot
at Sir Philip Brookes'. As we went in the carriage, the Duke
talked a great deal about the battle of Waterloo and different
things relating to that campaign. He said that he had 50,000 men
at Waterloo. He began the campaign with 85,000 men, lost 5,000 on
the 16th, and had a corps of 20,000 at Hal under Prince
Frederick. He said that it was remarkable that nobody who had
ever spoken of these operations had ever made mention of that
corps,[47] and Bonaparte was certainly ignorant of it. In this
corps were the best of the Dutch troops; it had been placed there
because the Duke expected the attack to be made on that side. He
said that the French army was the best army that was ever seen,
and that in the previous operations Bonaparte's march upon
Belgium was the finest thing that ever was done--so rapid and so
well combined. His object was to beat the armies in detail, and
this object succeeded in so far as that he attacked them
separately; but from the extraordinary celerity with which the
allied armies were got together he was not able to realise the
advantages he had promised himself. The Duke says that they
certainly were not prepared for this attack,[48] as the French
had previously broken up the roads by which their army advanced;
but as it was in summer this did not render them impassable. He
says that Bonaparte beat the Prussians in a most extraordinary
way, as the battle[49] was gained in less than four hours; but
that it would probably have been more complete if he had brought
a greater number of troops into action, and not detached so large
a body against the British corps. There were 40,000 men opposed
to the Duke on the 16th, but he says that the attack was not so
powerful as it ought to have been with such a force. The French
had made a long march the day before the battle, and had driven
in the Prussian posts in the evening. I asked him if he thought
Bonaparte had committed any fault. He said he thought he had
committed a fault in attacking him in the position of Waterloo;
that his object ought to have been to remove him as far as
possible from the Prussian army, and that he ought consequently
to have moved upon Hal, and to have attempted to penetrate by the
same road by which the Duke had himself advanced. He had always
calculated upon Bonaparte's doing this, and for this purpose he
had posted 20,000 men under Prince Frederick at Hal. He said that
the position at Waterloo was uncommonly strong, but that the
strength of it consisted alone in the two farms of Hougoumont and
La Haye Sainte, both of which were admirably situated and adapted
for defence. In Hougoumont there were never more than from 300 to
500 men, who were reinforced as it was necessary; and although
the French repeatedly attacked this point, and sometimes with not
less than 20,000 men, they never could even approach it. Had they
obtained possession of it, they could not have maintained it, as
it was open on one side to the whole fire of the English lines,
whilst it was sheltered on the side towards the French. The Duke
said the farm of La Haye Sainte was still better than that of
Hougoumont, and that it never would have been taken if the
officer who was commanding there had not neglected to make an
aperture through which ammunition could be conveyed to his
garrison.

     [47] [The Duke of Wellington has frequently been criticised
          for leaving so important a body of troops at Hal, so
          far upon his right that they were of no use in the
          battle. He always defended this disposition, and
          maintained that the greater probability was that
          Napoleon would attack his extreme right and advance by
          Hal. On this occasion (in 1820) he himself drew
          attention to it, as is explained in the text.]

     [48] [This passage is obscure, as the pronoun _they_ can
          hardly refer to the allied armies: but it stands so in
          the MS.]

     [49] [The battle of Ligny, 16th of June, 1815.]

[Page Head: WELLINGTON AND BLUCHER IN PARIS.]

When we arrived at Sir Philip Brookes' it rained, and we were
obliged to sit in the house, when the Duke talked a great deal
about Paris and different things. He told us that Blücher was
determined to destroy the Bridge of Jena. The Duke spoke to
Müffling, the Governor of Paris, and desired him to persuade
Blücher to abandon this design. However, Blücher was quite
determined. He said the French had destroyed the pillar at
Rosbach and other things, and that they merited this retaliation.
He also said that the English had burnt Washington, and he did
not see why he was not to destroy this bridge. Müffling, however,
concerted with the Duke that English sentinels should be placed
on the bridge, and if any Prussian soldiers should approach to
injure it, these sentinels were not to retire. This they
conceived would gain time, as they thought that previous to
making any attempt on the bridge Blücher would apply to the Duke
to withdraw the English sentinels. This was of no avail. The
Prussians arrived, mined the arches, and attempted to blow up the
bridge, sentinels and all. Their design, however, was frustrated,
and the bridge received no injury. At length Müffling came to the
Duke, and said that he was come to propose to him a compromise,
which was that the bridge should be spared and the column in the
Place Vendôme should be destroyed instead. 'I saw,' said the
Duke, 'that I had got out of the frying-pan into the fire.
Fortunately at this moment the King of Prussia arrived, and he
ordered that no injury should be done to either.' On another
occasion Blücher announced his intention of levying a contribution
of 100 millions on the city of Paris. To this the Duke objected,
and said that the raising such enormous contributions could only
be done by common consent, and must be a matter of general
arrangement. Blücher said, 'Oh! I do not mean to be the only
party who is to levy anything; you may levy as much for
yourselves, and, depend upon it, if you do it will all be paid;
there will be no difficulty whatever.' The Duke says that the two
invasions cost the French 100 millions sterling. The Allies had
1,200,000 men clothed at their expense; the allowance for this
was 60 francs a man. The army of occupation was entirely
maintained; there were the contributions, the claims amounting to
ten millions sterling. Besides this there were towns and villages
destroyed and country laid waste.




                           CHAPTER II.

Popularity of George IV.--The Duke of York's Racing
  Establishment--Clerk of the Council--Lord Liverpool and Mr.
  Sumner--Lady Conyngham--Death of Lady Worcester--Her
  Character--Ball at Devonshire House--The Duke of York's
  Aversion to the Duke of Wellington--The Pavilion at Brighton--
  Lord Francis Conyngham--The King and the Duke of Wellington--
  Death of the Marquis of Londonderry--His Policy--Sir B.
  Bloomfield sent to Stockholm--Mr. Canning's Foreign Secretary--
  Queen Caroline and Brougham--Canning and George IV.--Lord
  William Bentinck aspires to go to India--His Disappointment--
  The Duke of York's Duel with Colonel Lennox--George III.'s
  Will--George IV. appropriates the late King's Personal
  Property--The Duke of Wellington on the Congress of Verona and
  on the Politics of Europe--Intervention in Spain--Ferdinand
  VII.--M. de Villèle--The Duke's opinion of Napoleon--Sir
  William Knighton--The Duke of York's Anecdotes of George IV.--
  Death of the Marquis of Titchfield--His character.


                              1821.


London, February 7th, 1821 {p.043}

The King went to the play last night (Drury Lane) for the first
time, the Dukes of York and Clarence and a great suite with him.
He was received with immense acclamations, the whole pit standing
up, hurrahing and waving their hats. The boxes were very empty at
first, for the mob occupied the avenues to the theatre, and those
who had engaged boxes could not get to them. The crowd on the
outside was very great. Lord Hertford dropped one of the candles
as he was lighting the King in, and made a great confusion in the
box. The King sat in Lady Bessborough's box, which was fitted up
for him. He goes to Covent Garden to-night. A few people called
'The Queen,' but very few. A man in the gallery called out,
'Where's your wife, Georgy?'


February 11th, 1821 {p.044}

I came to town from Euston the end of last month. The debates
were expected to be very stormy and the minorities very large,
not that anybody expected Ministers to go out. It has all ended
as such anticipations usually do, in everything going off very
quietly and the Government obtaining large majorities. Their
Parliamentary successes and the King's reception have greatly
elated them, and they think (and with reason probably) that they
are likely to enjoy their places for the term of their natural
lives, not that they care about the King's popularity except in
as much as it may add strength to their Administration. They do
not conceal their contempt or dislike of him, and it is one of
the phenomena of the present times that the King should have
Ministers whom he abuses and hates, and who entertain corresponding
sentiments of aversion to him; yet they defend all his errors and
follies, and he affords them constant countenance and protection.
However, the King was delighted by his reception at the theatres,
and told Lady Bessborough, as he came downstairs, he never was
more gratified.


February 23rd, 1821 {p.044}

Yesterday the Duke of York proposed to me to take the management
of his horses, which I accepted. Nothing could be more kind than
the manner in which he proposed it.[1]

      [1] [Mr. Greville continued to manage the racing
          establishment of the Duke of York from this time till
          the death of his Royal Highness.]


March 5th, 1821 {p.044}

I have experienced a great proof of the vanity of human wishes.
In the course of three weeks I have attained the three things
which I have most desired in the world for years past, and upon
the whole I do not feel that my happiness is at all increased;
perhaps if it were not for one cause it might be, but until that
ceases to exist it is in vain that I acquire every other
advantage or possess the means of amusement.[2]

      [2] [One of these things was Mr. Greville's appointment as
          Clerk of the Council; the second was his connection
          with the Duke of York in his racing establishment; I am
          ignorant of the third.]


[Page Head: THE CLERKSHIP OF THE COUNCIL.]

March 22nd, 1821 {p.044}

I was sworn in the day before yesterday, and kissed hands at a
Council at Carlton House yesterday morning as Clerk of the
Council.


March 25th, 1821 {p.045}

Lord Fife has been dismissed from his place of Lord of the
Bedchamber for voting against the Malt Tax, and Lord Lovaine has
been appointed instead.


April 19th, 1821 {p.045}

The night before last Hobhouse made his furious attack upon
Canning. Last night everybody expected that Canning would speak,
and was extremely anxious to hear what notice he would take of
Hobhouse. The army estimates came on first in the evening, and
almost all the members went away, intending to return to the
Reform debate, but when Reform came on there were only 100
members in the House. 'Le combat finit faute de combattans,' and
when everybody came crowding down at nine o'clock the House had
been up half an hour, having divided 53 to 41.[3]

      [3] [On the 17th of April Mr. Lambton (afterwards Earl of
          Durham) moved for a Committee of the whole House to
          consider the state of the representation of the people
          in Parliament. It was owing to the misapprehension
          described in the text that the division was so small.]


May 2nd, 1821 {p.045}

When the Canonry of Windsor became vacant Lady Conyngham asked
the King to give it to Mr. Sumner,[4] who had been Mount
Charles's tutor. The King agreed: the man was sent for, and
kissed hands at Brighton. A letter was written to Lord Liverpool
to announce the appointment. In the meantime Lord Liverpool had
sent a list of persons, one of whom he should recommend to
succeed to the vacancy, and the letters crossed. As soon as Lord
Liverpool received the letter from Brighton he got into his
carriage and went down to the King, to state that unless he was
allowed to have the distribution of this patronage without any
interference, he could not carry on the Government, and would
resign his office if Sumner was appointed. The man was only a
curate, and had never held a living at all. The King 'chanta
palinodie,' and a sort of compromise was made, by which Lady
Conyngham's friend was withdrawn, and the King begged it might be
given to Dr. Clarke, to which appointment Lord Liverpool
consented, although he did not approve of him; he did not,
however, wish to appear too difficult.

      [4] [Afterwards Bishop of Winchester. This was the
          beginning of the fortune of that amiable prelate, of
          whom it must be said that if he owed his early
          advancement to a questionable influence, no man has
          filled the episcopal office with more unaffected piety,
          dignity, and goodness. The difference between George
          IV. and Lord Liverpool on this occasion was a very
          serious one. The Duke of Wellington referred to it in a
          confidential letter to Lord Liverpool, written on the
          26th of October, 1821, in the following terms:--'As I
          told you at Windsor, the King has never forgiven your
          opposition to his wishes in the case of Mr. Sumner.
          This feeling has influenced every action of his life in
          relation to his Government from that moment; and I
          believe to more than one of us he avowed that his
          objection to Mr. Canning was that his accession to the
          Government was peculiarly desirable to you. Nothing can
          be more unjust or more unfair than this feeling; and as
          there is not one of your colleagues who did not highly
          approve of what you did respecting Mr. Sumner, so there
          is not one of them who would not suffer with you all
          the consequences of that act.' ('Correspondence of the
          Duke of Wellington,' Second Series, vol. i. p. 195;
          published in 1867.)]

Lady Conyngham lives in one of the houses in Marlborough Row. All
the members of her family are continually there, and are supplied
with horses, carriages, &c., from the King's stables. She rides
out with her daughter, but never with the King, who always rides
with one of his gentlemen. They never appear in public together.
She dines there every day. Before the King comes into the room
she and Lady Elizabeth join him in another room, and he always
walks in with one on each arm. She comports herself entirely as
mistress of the house, but never suffers her daughter to leave
her. She has received magnificent presents, and Lady Elizabeth
the same; particularly the mother has strings of pearls of
enormous value. Madame de Lieven said she had seen the pearls of
the Grand Duchesses and the Prussian Princesses, but had never
seen any nearly so fine as Lady Conyngham's. The other night Lady
Bath was coming to the Pavilion. After dinner Lady Conyngham
called to Sir William Keppel and said, 'Sir William, do desire
them to light up the saloon' (this saloon is lit by hundreds of
candles). When the King came in she said to him, 'Sir, I told
them to light up the saloon, as Lady Bath is coming this
evening.' The King seized her arm and said with the greatest
tenderness, 'Thank you, thank you, my dear; you always do what is
right; you cannot please me so much as by doing everything you
please, everything to show that you are mistress here.'


[Page Head: THE DEATH OF LADY WORCESTER.]

May 12th, 1821 {p.047}

I have suffered the severest pain I ever had in my life by the
death of Lady Worcester.[5] I loved her like a sister, and I have
lost one of the few persons in the world who cared for me, and
whose affection and friendship serve to make life valuable to me.
She has been cut off in the prime of her life and in the bloom of
her beauty, and so suddenly too. Seven days ago she was at a ball
at Court, and she is now no more. She died like a heroine, full
of cheerfulness and courage to the last. She has been snatched
from life at a time when she was becoming every day more fit to
live, for her mind, her temper, and her understanding were
gradually and rapidly improving; she had faults, but her mind was
not vicious, and her defects may be ascribed to her education and
to the actual state of the society in which she lived. Her
virtues were inherent in her character; every day developed them
more and more, and they were such as to make the happiness of all
who lived with her and to captivate the affection of all who
really knew her. I have never lost anyone I loved before, and
though I know the grief I now feel will soon subside (for so the
laws of nature have ordained), long, long will it be before I
forget her, or before my mind loses the lively impression of her
virtues and of our mutual friendship.

      [5] [Georgiana Frederica, Marchioness of Worcester,
          daughter of the Hon. Charles Fitzroy, married to Henry,
          afterwards seventh Duke of Beaufort, in 1814, died 11th
          of May, 1821. This lamented lady left two daughters,
          afterwards Lady Augusta Neumann and Lady Georgiana
          Codrington.]

This is one of those melancholy events in life to which the mind
cannot for a long time reconcile or accustom itself. I saw her so
short a time ago 'glittering like the morning star, full of life
and splendour and joy;' the accents of her voice still so vibrate
in my ear that I cannot believe I shall never see her again. What
a subject for contemplation and for moralising! What reflections
crowd into the mind!

Dr. Hume told me once he had witnessed many death-beds, but he
had never seen anything like the fortitude and resignation
displayed by her. She died in his arms, and without pain. As life
ebbed away her countenance changed, and when at length she ceased
to breathe, a beautiful and tranquil smile settled upon her face.

          Call round her tomb each, object of desire,
          Each, purer frame informed by purer fire;
          Let her be all that cheers or softens life,
          The tender sister, daughter, friend, and wife:
          Bid her be all that makes mankind adore,
          Then view this marble, and be vain no more.


June 24th, 1821 {p.048}

The King dined at Devonshire House last Thursday se'nnight. Lady
Conyngham had on her head a sapphire which belonged to the
Stuarts, and was given by Cardinal York to the King. He gave it
to the Princess Charlotte, and when she died he desired to have
it back, Leopold being informed it was a crown jewel. This crown
jewel sparkled in the headdress of the Marchioness at the ball. I
ascertained the Duke of York's sentiments upon this subject the
other day. He was not particularly anxious to discuss it, but he
said enough to show that he has no good opinion of her. The other
day, as we were going to the races from Oatlands, he gave me the
history of the Duke of Wellington's life. His prejudice against
him is excessively strong, and I think if ever he becomes King
the other will not be Commander-in-Chief. He does not deny his
military talents, but he thinks that he is false and ungrateful,
that he never gave sufficient credit to his officers, and that he
was unwilling to put forward men of talent who might be in a
situation to claim some share of credit, the whole of which he
was desirous of engrossing himself. He says that at Waterloo he
got into a scrape and avowed himself to be surprised, and he
attributes in great measure the success of that day to Lord
Anglesea, who, he says, was hardly mentioned, and that in the
coldest terms, in the Duke's despatch.[6]

      [6] [The unjust and unfavourable opinion expressed of the
          Duke of Wellington by the Duke of York dated from the
          appointment of Sir Arthur Wellesley to a high command,
          and afterwards to the chief command of the army in
          Portugal. The Duke of York had at one moment
          entertained hopes of commanding that army, but when he
          was made to understand that this was impossible he
          erroneously attributed this disappointment to the
          intrigues of those who were preferred before him. This
          matter is explained with further particulars _sub_ 24th
          of December, 1822.]


[Page Head: THE PAVILION.]

December 18th, 1821 {p.049}

I have not written anything for months. 'Quante cose mi sono
accadute!' My progress was as follows, not very interesting:--To
Newmarket, Whersted, Riddlesworth, Sprotborough, Euston, Elveden,
Welbeck, Caversham, Nun Appleton, Welbeck, Burghley, and London.
Nothing worth mentioning occurred at any of these places.
Sprotborough was agreeable enough. The Grevilles, Montagu,
Wilmot, and the Wortleys were there. I came to town, went to
Brighton yesterday se'nnight for a Council. I was lodged in the
Pavilion and dined with the King. The gaudy splendour of the
place amused me for a little and then bored me. The dinner was
cold and the evening dull beyond all dulness. They say the King
is anxious that form and ceremony should be banished, and if so
it only proves how impossible it is that form and ceremony should
not always inhabit a palace. The rooms are not furnished for
society, and, in fact, society cannot flourish without ease; and
who can feel at ease who is under the eternal constraint which
etiquette and respect impose? The King was in good looks and good
spirits, and after dinner cut his jokes with all the coarse
merriment which is his characteristic. Lord Wellesley did not
seem to like it, but of course he bowed and smiled like the rest.
I saw nothing very particular in the King's manner to Lady
Conyngham. He sat by her on the couch almost the whole evening,
playing at patience, and he took her in to dinner; but Madame de
Lieven and Lady Cowper were there, and he seemed equally civil to
all of them. I was curious to see the Pavilion and the life they
lead there, and I now only hope I may never go there again, for
the novelty is past, and I should be exposed to the whole weight
of the bore of it without the stimulus of curiosity.


December 19th, 1821 {p.049}

I dined with Lord Gwydir yesterday, and sat next to Prince
Lieven. He told me that Bloomfield is no longer in favour, that
he has been supplanted by Lord Francis Conyngham,[7] who now
performs almost all the functions which formerly appertained to
Bloomfield. He is quite aware of his decline, and submits himself
to it in a manly way. He is no longer so necessary to the King as
he was, for a short time ago he could not bear that Bloomfield
should be absent, and _now_ his absence is unfelt. Francis goes
to the King every morning, usually breakfasts with him, and
receives all his orders. He was invited to go to Panshanger for
two days, and was very anxious to go, but he could not obtain
leave from the King to absent himself. Bloomfield does not put
himself forward; 'même il se retire,' he said, and it is
understood that he has made up his mind to resign his situation
and leave the Court. The King is still perfectly civil and
good-humoured to him, but has withdrawn his confidence from him,
and Bloomfield is no longer his first servant.

      [7] [Lord Francis Conyngham, second son of the first
          Marquis of Conyngham (who was raised to the British
          peerage in June 1821), afterwards himself Marquis of
          Conyngham.]

I asked Lieven whether Francis Conyngham, in performing the other
duties which had been hitherto allotted to Bloomfield, also
exercised the functions of Private Secretary, because this
involved a much more serious question. He said that he did not
know; all he knew was that whilst he was at Brighton Bloomfield
was absent for five days, and that during that time the other had
ostensibly occupied the place which Bloomfield used to hold about
the King's person. The commencement of this revolution in the
King's sentiments is to be dated from the journey to Hanover. Now
Bloomfield sits amongst the guests at dinner at the Pavilion; the
honours are done by the father on one side and the son on the
other.


                              1822.


July 16th, 1822 {p.050}

Since I wrote last I have been continually in town. I have won on
the Derby, my sister is married,[8] and I have done nothing worth
recording. How habit and practice change our feelings, our
opinions; and what an influence they have upon our thoughts and
actions! Objects which I used to contemplate at an immeasurable
distance, and to attain which I thought would be the summit of
felicity, I have found worth very little in comparison to the
value my imagination used to set upon them.... London is nearly
over, has been tolerably agreeable; but I have been very often
bored to death by the necessity of paying some attention to keep
up an interest.

      [8] [Miss Greville married Lord Francis Leveson Gower,
          afterwards Earl of Ellesmere, in 1822.]


July 30th, 1822 {p.051}

Madame de Lieven is ill with the King, and is miserable in
consequence. Lady Cowper is her _confidante_, and the Duke of
Wellington; but this latter pretends to know nothing of it, and
asked me the other day what it was, I am sure in order to
discover what people say. When the Duke was at Brighton in the
winter, he and the King had a dispute about the army. It began
(it was at dinner) by the King's saying that the Russians or the
Prussians (I forget which) were the best infantry in the world.
The Duke said, 'Except your Majesty's.' The King then said the
English cavalry were the best, which the Duke denied; then that
an inferior number of French regiments would always beat a
superior number of English, and, in short, that they were not
half so effective. The King was very angry; the dispute waxed
warm, and ended by his Majesty rising from table and saying,
'Well, it is not for me to dispute on such a subject with your
Grace.' The King does not like the Duke, nor does the Duke of
York. This I know from himself.


[Page Head: DEATH OF LORD LONDONDERRY.]

August 13th, 1822 {p.051}

I went to Cirencester on Friday and came back yesterday. At
Hounslow I heard of the death of Lord Londonderry.[9] When I got
to town I met several people who had all assumed an air of
melancholy, a _visage de circonstance_, which provoked me
inexpressibly, because it was certain that they did not care;
indeed, if they felt at all, it was probably rather satisfaction
at an event happening than sorrow for the death of the person. It
seems Lord Londonderry had been unwell for some time, but not
seriously, and a few days before this catastrophe he became much
worse, and was very much dejected. He told Lord Granville some
time ago that he was worn out with fatigue, and he told Count
Münster the other day that he was very ill indeed. The Duke of
Wellington saw him on Friday, and was so struck by the appearance
of illness about him that he sent Bankhead to him. He was cupped
on Saturday in London, got better, and went to Foot's Cray. On
Sunday he was worse, and the state of dejection in which he
appeared induced his attendants to take certain precautions,
which unfortunately, however, proved fruitless. They removed his
pistols and his razors, but he got hold of a penknife which was
in the room next his, and on Sunday night or early on Monday
morning he cut his throat with it. There is not a Minister in
town but Lord Liverpool, Vansittart, and the Chancellor. Lord
Bathurst is at Cirencester, the Duke of Wellington in Holland,
Lord Sidmouth in Yorkshire, Peel and Lord Melville in Scotland
with the King. No event ever gave rise to more speculation with
the few people there are left to speculate, and the general
opinion seems to be that Canning will not go to India,[10] but
will be appointed in his room. It certainly opens a door to his
ambition as well as to that of Peel, who, unless Canning comes
into office, must of necessity lead the House of Commons. Another
speculation is that Lord Liverpool will take this opportunity of
resigning, and that the King will form a Whig Ministry. I do not
believe Lord Liverpool wishes to resign, and my opinion is that
Canning will come into office.

      [9] [Lord Castlereagh, far better known by that name,
          succeeded as second Marquis of Londonderry on the 11th
          of April, 1821--only sixteen months before his death.]

     [10] [Mr. Canning had just accepted the office of
          Governor-General of India, and was about to go out to
          that country.]

[Page Head: CHARACTER OF LORD LONDONDERRY.]

I had hardly any acquaintance with Lord Londonderry, and
therefore am not in the slightest degree affected by his death.
As a Minister he is a great loss to his party, and still greater
to his friends and dependents, to whom he was the best of
patrons; to the country I think he is none. Nobody can deny that
his talents were great, and perhaps he owed his influence and
authority as much to his character as to his abilities. His
appearance was dignified and imposing; he was affable in his
manners and agreeable in society. The great feature of his
character was a cool and determined courage, which gave an
appearance of resolution and confidence to all his actions, and
inspired his friends with admiration and excessive devotion to
him, and caused him to be respected by his most violent
opponents. As a speaker he was prolix, monotonous, and never
eloquent, except, perhaps, for a few minutes when provoked into a
passion by something which had fallen out in debate. But,
notwithstanding these defects, and still more the ridicule which
his extraordinary phraseology had drawn upon him, he was always
heard with attention. He never spoke ill; his speeches were
continually replete with good sense and strong argument, and
though they seldom offered much to admire, they generally
contained a great deal to be answered. I believe he was
considered one of the best managers of the House of Commons who
ever sat in it, and he was eminently possessed of the good taste,
good humour, and agreeable manners which are more requisite to
make a good leader than eloquence, however brilliant. With these
qualities, it may be asked why he was not a better Minister, and
who can answer that question? or who can aver that he did not
pursue the policy which he conscientiously believed to be most
advantageous to his country? Nay, more, who can say but from
surmise and upon speculation that it was not the best? I believe
that he was seduced by his vanity, that his head was turned by
emperors, kings, and congresses, and that he was resolved that
the country which he represented should play as conspicuous a
part as any other in the political dramas which were acted on the
Continent. The result of his policy is this, that we are mixed up
in the affairs of the Continent in a manner we have never been
before, which entails upon us endless negotiations and enormous
expenses. We have associated ourselves with the members of the
Holy Alliance, and countenanced the acts of ambition and
despotism in such a manner as to have drawn upon us the
detestation of the nations of the Continent; and our conduct
towards them at the close of the war has brought a stain upon our
character for bad faith and desertion which no time will wipe
away, and the recollection of which will never be effaced from
their minds.


August 19th, 1822 {p.019}

I went to Brighton on Saturday to see the Duke [of York];
returned to-day. The Pavilion is finished. The King has had a
subterranean passage made from the house to the stables, which is
said to have cost £3,000 or £5,000; I forget which. There is also
a bath in his apartment, with pipes to conduct water from the
sea; these pipes cost £600. The King has not taken a sea bath for
sixteen years.

The Marquis of Londonderry is to be buried to-morrow in
Westminster Abbey. It is thought injudicious to have anything
like an ostentatious funeral, considering the circumstances under
which he died, but it is the particular wish of his widow. She
seems to consider the respect which is paid to his remains as a
sort of testimony to his character, and nothing will pacify her
feelings or satisfy her affection but seeing him interred with
all imaginable honours. It seems that he gave several indications
of a perturbed mind a short time previous to his death. For some
time past he had been dejected, and his mind was haunted with
various apprehensions, particularly with a notion that he was in
great personal danger. On the day (the 3rd of August) he gave a
great dinner at Cray to his political friends, some of them
finding the wine very good, wished to compliment him upon it, and
Arbuthnot called out, 'Lord Londonderry!' He instantly jumped up
with great vivacity, and stood as if in expectation of something
serious that was to follow. When he was told that it was about
the wine they wished to speak to him, he sat down; but his manner
was so extraordinary that Huskisson remarked it to Wilmot as they
came home. In the last interview which the Duke of Wellington had
with him he said he never heard him converse upon affairs with
more clearness and strength of mind than that day. In the middle
of the conversation, however, he said, 'To prove to you what
danger I am in, my own servants think so, and that I ought to go
off directly, that I have no time to lose, and they keep my
horses saddled that I may get away quickly; they think that I
should not have time to go away in a carriage.' Then ringing the
bell violently, he said to the servant, 'Tell me, sir, instantly
who ordered my horses here; who sent them up to town?' The man
answered that the horses were at Cray, and had never been in
town. The Duke desired the man to go, and in consequence of this
strange behaviour wrote the letter to Bankhead which has been
since published.


August 20th, 1822 {p.055}

Knighton went with the King to Scotland, and slept in one of his
Majesty's own cabins, that next to him. He is supposed to have
been appointed Privy Purse. Bloomfield has got the mission to
Stockholm. When Bloomfield was dismissed a disposition was shown
to treat him in a very unceremonious manner; but he would not
stand this, and displayed a spirit which he was probably enabled
to assume in consequence of what he knows. When they found he was
not to be bullied they treated with him, and gave him every
honour and emolument he could desire.


[Page Head: CANNING RETURNS TO OFFICE.]

September 22nd, 1822 {p.055}

I saw Lady Bathurst on the 13th. Canning had not then sent his
answer, and greatly surprised were the Ministers at the delay.
Lord Liverpool's proposal to him was simple and unclogged with
conditions--the Foreign Office and the lead in the House of
Commons. The King's repugnance to his coming into office was
extreme, and it required all the efforts of his Ministers to
surmount it. The Duke of Wellington and Peel have all the credit
of having persuaded the King to consent, but Lord Bathurst's
arguments influenced him as much as those of any person, and he
told Lady Conyngham that he was more satisfied by what Lord
Bathurst had said to him on the subject than by any of the
Ministers. I know that amongst the Canning party Lord Bathurst is
supposed to have joined with the Chancellor in opposing his
appointment. The danger in which the Duke of Wellington was
sensibly affected the King, because at this moment the Duke is in
high favour with him; and when he heard he was so ill he sent
Knighton to him to comfort him with a promise that he would
reconsider the proposal of receiving Canning, and the next day he
signified his consent. I saw a note from Lady Conyngham to Lady
Bathurst, in which she gave an account of the uneasiness and
agitation in which the King had been in consequence of the Duke's
illness, saying how much she had suffered in consequence, and how
great had been _their_ relief, when Knighton brought word that he
was better. The 'dear King,' she said, was more composed. She
added that she (Lady B.) would hear that evening what would give
her pleasure, and this was that the King had agreed to take
Canning. In a conversation also Lady C. said that she did hope,
now the King had yielded his own inclination to the wishes and
advice of his Ministers, that they would behave to him better
than they had done. Canning was sworn in on Monday. His friends
say that he was very well received. The King told Madame de
Lieven that having consented to receive him, he had behaved to
him, as _he always did_, in the most gentlemanlike manner he
could, and that on delivering to him the seals, he said to him
that he had been advised by his Ministers that his abilities and
eloquence rendered him the only fit man to succeed to the vacancy
which Lord Londonderry's death had made, and that, in appointing
him to the situation, he had only to desire that he would follow
the steps of his predecessor. This Madame de Lieven told to Lady
Jersey, and she to me. It seems that the King was so struck with
Lord Londonderry's manner (for he said to the King nearly what he
said to the Duke of Wellington), and so persuaded that some fatal
catastrophe would take place, that when Peel came to inform him
of what had happened, he said to him before he spoke, 'I know you
are come to tell me that Londonderry is dead.' Peel had just left
him, and upon receiving the despatches immediately returned; and
when Lady Conyngham was told by Lord Mount Charles that there was
a report that he was dead, she said, 'Good God! then he has
destroyed himself.' She knew what had passed with the King, and
was the only person to whom he had told it.


September 23rd, 1822 {p.057}

George Bentinck, who thinks there never existed such a man as
Canning, and who probably has heard from him some circumstances
connected with his resignation at the time of the Queen's trial,
told ---- that it was in consequence of a dispute between the
King and his Ministers concerning the payment of the expenses of
the Milan Commission. The Ministers wished the King to pay
the expenses himself, and he wished them to be defrayed by
Government. Lord Londonderry promised the King (without the
concurrence of the other Ministers) that the expenses should be
paid by Government, but with money ostensibly appropriated to
other purposes. This Canning could not endure, and resigned. Such
is his story, which probably is partly true and partly false.


[Page Head: QUEEN CAROLINE'S RETURN.]

November 5th, 1822 {p.057}

I have been to Newmarket, Euston, Riddlesworth, Rendlesham,
Whersted, besides going to town several times and to Brighton.
Since I left London for the Doncaster races I have travelled near
1,200 miles. At Riddlesworth the Duke of York told me a great
deal about the Queen and Brougham, but he was so unintelligible
that part I could not make out and part I do not remember. What I
can recollect amounts to this, that the Emperor of Austria was
the first person who informed the King of the Queen's conduct in
Italy, that after the enquiry was set on foot a negotiation was
entered into with the Queen, the basis of which was that she
should abdicate the title of Queen, and that to this she had
consented. He said that Brougham had acted a double part, for
that he had acquiesced in the propriety of her acceding to those
terms, and had promised that he would go over to her and confirm
her in her resolution to agree to them; that he had not only not
gone, but that whilst he was making these promises to Government
he had written to the Queen desiring her to come over. The Duke
told me that a man (whose name he did not mention) came to him
and said, 'So the Queen comes over?' He said, 'No, she does not.'
The man said, 'I know she does, for Brougham has written to
her to come; I saw the letter.' If Lord Liverpool and Lord
Londonderry had thought proper to publish what had been done on
the part of Brougham, he would have been covered with infamy; but
they would not do it, and he thinks they were wrong. The rest I
cannot remember.[11]

     [11] [This is an erroneous and imperfect account of this
          important transaction, the particulars of which are
          related by Lord Brougham in his 'Memoirs,' cap. xvi.
          vol. ii. p. 352, and still more fully by Mr. Yonge in
          his 'Life of Lord Liverpool,' vol. iii. p. 52. Mr.
          Brougham had sent his brother James to the Queen at
          Geneva to dissuade her from setting out for England,
          but, as he himself observes, 'I was quite convinced
          that if she once set out she never would stop short.'
          He met her himself at St. Omer, being the bearer of a
          memorandum dated the 15th of April, 1820, which
          contained the terms proposed by the King's Government.
          He went to St. Omer in company with Lord Hutchinson,
          but Mr. Brougham, and not Lord Hutchinson, was the
          bearer of these propositions. Lord Hutchinson had no
          copy of the document. The extraordinary part of Mr.
          Brougham's conduct was that he never at all submitted
          or made known to the Queen the memorandum of the 15th
          of April; and she knew nothing of it till she had
          reached London, when all negotiation was broken off.
          This fact Lord Brougham does not explain in his
          'Memoirs;' but Lord Hutchinson declared in his report
          to Lord Liverpool that in truth Brougham 'did not
          appear to possess the smallest degree of power, weight,
          or authority over the mind of the Queen' when at St.
          Omer.]


[Page Head: CANNING AND GEORGE IV.]

Welbeck, November 16th, 1822 {p.058}

I have had a great deal of conversation with Titchfield,[12]
particularly about Canning, and he told me this curious fact about
his coming into office:--When the King had consented to receive
him he wrote a letter nearly in these words to Lord Liverpool:
'The King thinks that the brightest jewel in the crown is to
extend his forgiveness [I am not sure that this was the word[13]]
to a subject who has offended him, and he therefore informs Lord
L. that he consents to Mr. Canning forming a part of the Cabinet.'
This letter was communicated by Lord Liverpool to Canning, and
upon reading it he was indignant, as were his wife and his
daughter. The consequence was that he wrote a most violent and
indignant reply, addressed to the same person to whom the other
letter had been addressed, and which was intended in like manner
to be shown to the King, as the King's letter was to him. Upon
hearing what had passed, however, down came Lord Granville and
Mr. Ellis in a great hurry, and used every argument to dissuade him
from sending the letter, urging that he had entirely misunderstood
the purport of the letter which had offended him; that it was
intended as an invitation to reconciliation, and contained nothing
which could have been meant as offensive; that the country would
be so dissatisfied (which ardently desired and expected that he
should come into office) if he rejected this overture that he
would not be justified in refusing his services to the public, who
so anxiously wished for them. These arguments, vehemently urged
and put in every possible shape, prevailed, and the angry reply
was put in the fire, and another written full of gratitude, duty,
and acquiescence.

     [12] [The Marquis of Titchfield, eldest son of the fourth
          Duke of Portland, Mr. Greville's first cousin, died in
          the twenty-eighth year of his age.]

     [13] [The exact words in the King's letter to Lord Liverpool
          are 'extend his grace and favour to a subject who may
          have incurred his displeasure.' This letter, Lord
          Liverpool's letter transmitting it to Mr. Canning, and
          Mr. Canning's answer to Lord Liverpool are now all
          published in Mr. Yonge's 'Life and Administration of
          Lord Liverpool,' vol. iii. p. 200.]


[Page Head: LORD WILLIAM BENTINCK.]

London, November 24th, 1822 {p.059}

The morning I left Welbeck I had a long conversation with
Titchfield upon various matters connected with politics and his
family, particularly relating to Lord William's correspondence
with Lord Liverpool about the Government of India. He showed me
this correspondence, in which, as I anticipated, Lord William had
the worst of it. Lord Liverpool's answer was unanswerable. He
showed me also a very long letter which he had received from Lord
William, together with the copies of the correspondence, which
was written the evening before he went abroad. In this letter
(which I only read once, and which was so long that I cannot
recollect it) he gave a detailed account of his sentiments upon
the Indian matter, with the reasons for his having acted as he
did, also his feelings with regard to the manner in which Canning
had behaved upon the occasion and a conversation which he had
with Mrs. Canning.[14] This latter I think exceedingly curious,
because it serves to show what the object and the pretensions of
Canning are in taking office, and exhibit that ambition the whole
extent of which he dares not show. It seems that the Directors
were anxious that Lord William should be appointed Governor-General,
and this he knew through friends of his in the Court. Government,
however, having signified their dissent to his nomination, Lord
Amherst was nominated by the Court and accepted. Lord William's
displeasure with Canning arises from an idea that Canning was
backward in supporting his interests in this matter, and that he
kept aloof from Lord William, and acquiesced in his rejection
without ever communicating with him on the subject. Had Canning
stated to him the difficulties under which he laboured, from his
anxiety to serve him on the one hand and his obligation of
coinciding with his colleagues on the other, Lord William would
not have hesitated to _desire_ him to abandon his interests
rather than involve himself in any embarrassment on his account.
He wrote to Lord Liverpool to complain that the Court of
Directors being inclined to nominate him, Lord L. had interposed
his influence to prevent that nomination; that he did not ask
Lord L. to consent to his appointment, but he did ask him not to
interpose his influence to prevent his nomination, because that
nomination was essential to his character, as proving that the
Court of Directors were satisfied of the injustice with which he
had been treated in the affair of the Vellore mutiny. Lord
Liverpool's answer was short and civil, assuring him that he had
neither directly nor indirectly exerted any influence at all,
maintaining his right to give his opinion to the Directors in
case it had been asked, and stating that Lord Amherst had been
proposed by the Court and accepted by Government.[15] Whilst
this matter was still pending, and before Lord Amherst's
appointment had been made known, Lord William went to Gloucester
Lodge. He saw Mrs. Canning, and being anxious to acquire
information concerning the Indian appointment, he told her that
she had an opportunity of obliging him by telling him anything
she knew concerning it. She answered very quickly and in a very
bad humour, 'Oh, it is all settled; Lord Amherst is appointed.'
She then put into his hand a letter which Canning had received
that morning from the Duke of Portland, declining his offer of
the Private Secretaryship for John and George, alleging as a
reason the hostile politics of Lord William and Titchfield. Mrs.
Canning said that she had no idea that they would not have
supported Canning, that she was aware they differed on some
matters of minor importance, but that she had imagined their
general opinions to be similar; that she had conceived Lord
William's opposition to have been directed against Lord
Londonderry, and that it would have ceased with his death; that
'the present must be considered as a new Administration, and that
Canning must be virtually Minister of the country.' Lord William
replied that he could not view it in that light, that he thought
it likely the introduction of Canning into the Cabinet might
effect a beneficial influence on the measures of Government, and
more particularly that a system of foreign policy might be
adopted more congenial to his sentiments upon that subject; that
it would give him the greatest pleasure to see such a change of
measures as would enable him to give his support to a Government
of which Canning was so conspicuous a member, but that he could
not think that to be a new Administration which was composed
(with the sole exception of Canning) of precisely the same
persons of which it consisted before he joined them.

     [14] [Mrs. Canning was the younger sister of Henrietta, wife
          of the fourth Duke of Portland, both of them being the
          daughters and coheiresses of Major-General John Scott
          of Balcomie. Lord William Bentinck, the Duke's brother,
          was therefore a near connection, and Lord George
          Bentinck and Lord John Bentinck, the Duke's sons, were
          by their mother's side Mrs. Canning's nephews. Lady
          Charlotte Greville, Mr. Charles Greville's mother, was
          of course connected with Mrs. Canning in the same
          degree as her brother Lord William Bentinck.]

     [15] [Lord Liverpool's letter to the King on this
          appointment has been published by Mr. Yonge in his Life
          of that statesman. He stated strongly to George IV. his
          opinion that although Lord William Bentinck was
          supported by a powerful party in the Court of
          Directors, he thought it would be 'humiliating to the
          Government and productive of the very worst effects to
          appoint to such a station a man who had taken so strong
          a part in Parliamentary Opposition.' George IV. replied
          that he thought it 'highly unadvisable that Lord
          William Bentinck should be the successor of the Marquis
          of Hastings.' (Yonge's 'Life of Lord Liverpool,' vol.
          iii. p. 204.) Lord William Bentinck had previously been
          Governor of Madras at the time of the mutiny at
          Vellore.]

George,[16] after having refused the Private Secretaryship, was
talked over by Canning and accepted it. He tried to gain over
John, but he refused to share it.

     [16] [Lord George Bentinck, third son of the fourth Duke of
          Portland; born 1802, died 1848; afterwards
          distinguished as the leader of the Protectionist
          party.]

Canning wished that Manners Sutton should be appointed
Governor-General, in order that Wynn might be made Speaker, and
room made for Huskisson in the Cabinet; but Wynn would not have
given up his situation, and it is very much suspected that if he
had, the strength of Government would have been insufficient to
procure his election as Speaker, so unpopular is he in the House.


December 24th, 1822 {p.062}

The other day I went to Bushy with the Duke [of York], and as we
passed over Wimbledon Common he showed me the spot where he
fought his duel with the Duke of Richmond. He then told me the
whole story and all the circumstances which led to it, most of
which are in print. That which I had never heard before was that
at a masquerade three masks insulted the Prince of Wales, when
the Duke interfered, desired the one who was most prominent to
address himself to him, and added that he suspected him to be an
officer in his regiment (meaning Colonel Lennox), and if he was
he was a coward and a disgrace to his profession; if he was not
the person he took him for, he desired him to unmask, and he
would beg his pardon. The three masks were supposed to be Colonel
Lennox, the Duke of Gordon, and Lady Charlotte. This did not lead
to any immediate consequences, but perhaps indirectly contributed
to what followed. The Duke never found out whether the masks were
the people he suspected.

[Page Head: DUKE OF YORK'S DISLIKE TO WELLINGTON.]

The last time I was with him he told me a variety of particulars
about the Duke of Wellington's conduct at the siege of Seringapatam,
of Lord Harris's reluctance to entrust the command of a storming
party to him, of his not arriving at the place of rendezvous the
first night, of Lord Harris's anger and the difficulty with
which he was brought to consent to his being employed the second
night, when he distinguished himself so signally. Amongst various
other matters, of which it was impossible to bring away a perfect
recollection, from his confused manner of narrating, and
particularly his inaccuracy as to dates, he told me (with many
recommendations to secrecy) that which immediately explained to
me the dislike which he certainly bears to the Duke and (which I
did not know before) to Lord Londonderry. He said that after the
retreat of our army under Sir J. Moore from Spain (he was not
quite certain himself as to the exact period, though a reference
to the history of that period will probably elucidate the matter)
Lord L. sent for him, and communicated to him that it was the
intention of Government to send out an expedition to Portugal,
and to confer the command of it upon him. He replied that if
called upon he should consider it his duty to serve, but he
should never solicit any command. Nothing more passed at that
time, but the newspapers by some means immediately got hold of
this project and violently attacked the Government for thinking
of sending him out. He does not appear to have known what
intermediate deliberation led to a change in the determination of
the Ministers in regard to himself. He says that Lord Chatham,
who was much attached to him, and was then a Cabinet Minister,
came to him one day, and told him he was betrayed, and that he
was sacrificed to make way for Sir A. Wellesley; that soon after
this Lord L. sent for him, and said that he was extremely sorry
that public opinion was so strongly against his appointment to
the command of the army that it was impossible for Government to
confer it upon him. Soon after this the expedition was formed,
and Sir A. Wellesley was appointed to the command. This was the
Duke's own version of the transaction.


                              1823.


[Page Head: GEORGE THE THIRD'S WILL.]

Some particulars concerning the late King's will were told me by
the Duke of York as we were going to Oatlands to shoot on
Wednesday, the 8th of January, 1823. The King was empowered by
Act of Parliament to make a will about the year 1766. In 1770 he
made a will, by which he left all he had to the Queen for her
life, Buckingham House to the Duke of Clarence, some property to
the Duke of Kent, and to the Duke of York his second best George
and some other trifling remembrance. He considered the Duke of
York provided for by the Bishopric of Osnaburgh. Of this will
three copies were made; one was deposited in the German
_chancellerie_ in England, one in Hanover, and the other it was
believed the King kept himself. He afterwards resolved to cancel
this will, and two of the copies of it were destroyed, the third
still existing (I could not make out by what means--if he told me
I have forgotten--or which copy it was that survived). In 1810
the King made another will, but for various reasons he always put
off signing it, once or twice because he wished to make
alterations in it; at length he appointed a day to sign it, but
when the Chancellor brought it one of the witnesses was absent,
and the signature was again postponed. Other days were afterwards
fixed for this purpose, but before the signature was affixed the
King was taken ill, and consequently the will never was signed.
After the death of the King the only good will, therefore, was
his original will of 1770, which was produced and read in the
presence of the King, the Chancellor, Vice-Chancellor, Lord
Liverpool, the Duke of York, Adair, the King's solicitor (Spyer
his name), and one or two others whom he mentioned. Buckingham
House, which had been left to the Duke of Clarence, had been
twice sold; the Queen and the Duke of Kent were dead; the
only legatee, therefore, was the Duke of York. Now arose a
difficulty--whether the property of the late King demised to the
King or to the Crown. The Chancellor said that the only person
who had anything to say to the will was the Duke of York; but
the Duke and the King differed with regard to the right of
inheritance, and the Duke, wishing to avoid any dispute or
discussion on the subject, begged to wash his hands of the whole
matter. The King conceives that the whole of the late King's
property devolves upon him personally, and not upon the Crown,
and he has consequently appropriated to himself the whole of the
money and jewels. The money did not amount to more than £120,000.
So touchy is he about pecuniary matters that his Ministers have
never dared to remonstrate with him, nor to tell him that he has
no right so to act. The consequence is that he has spent the
money, and has taken to himself the jewels as his own private
property. The Duke thinks that he has no right thus to appropriate
their father's property, but that it belongs to the Crown. The
King has acted in a like manner with regard to the Queen's
[Charlotte's] jewels. She possessed a great quantity, some of
which had been given her by the late King on her marriage, and
the rest she had received in presents at different times. Those
which the late King had given her she conceived to belong to the
Crown, and left them back to the present King; the rest she left
to her daughters. The King has also appropriated the Queen's
[Caroline's] jewels to himself, and conceives that they are his
undoubted private property. The Duke thinks that the Ministers
ought to have taken the opportunity of the coronation, when a new
crown was to be provided, to state to him the truth with regard
to the jewels, and to suggest that they should be converted to
that purpose. This, however, they dared not do, and so the matter
remains. The King had even a design of selling the library
collected by the late King, but this he was obliged to abandon,
for the Ministers and the Royal Family must have interfered to
oppose so scandalous a transaction. It was therefore presented to
the British Museum.


[Page Head: THE CONGRESS OF VERONA.]

January 25th, 1823 {p.065}

I came from Gorhambury with the Duke of Wellington last
Wednesday, and he was very communicative. He gave me a detailed
history of the late Congress, and told me many other things which
I should be glad to recollect.

After the two treaties of Paris and Vienna the Allied Powers
agreed to meet in Congress from time to time to arrange together
any matters of general interest which might arise, and to settle
and discuss any differences which might occur between any two
Powers, a rule being laid down that the affairs of no Power
should be discussed without that Power being invited to the
deliberation. The affairs of Naples were the first that attracted
their attention. Austria complained that the ramifications of the
secret political societies which had sprung up at Naples tended
to disturb and revolutionise the Italian possessions, and
demanded the consent of the Allied Powers that she should abate
the nuisance. The cause was deemed sufficient to justify her
interference, and the events followed which are known. The
Congress at Verona was assembled for the purpose of taking into
consideration the affairs of Italy, and for discussing the
propriety of relieving Naples from the burden of that military
force which had been maintained there for the purpose of
extinguishing the revolutionary spirit. At this Congress France
came forward and complained that the revolution which had taken
place in Spain menaced her internal tranquillity, and demanded
the advice of Congress as to the measures she should adopt. In
this it will be observed that the rule of every Power being
called upon to attend a deliberation in which its affairs were to
be discussed was dispensed with. Austria, Russia, and Prussia
immediately replied that if she considered the Spanish revolution
to be dangerous to her repose, she would be justified in stifling
that revolution by force of arms, and offered to co-operate with
her in the attempt. England refused to give any answer to the
demands of France, and demanded in return what was her case
against Spain. To this no answer was given. The part then taken
by the Duke was to deprecate hostilities, both publicly as
Plenipotentiary of England and privately in the various
conversations which he had with the Emperor of Russia, who seems
to have been the strongest advocate for making war with Spain.
The imprudence of the Spaniards has afforded some colour to the
right assumed by their enemies of interfering with their affairs,
for they have upon several occasions attempted to foment the
troubles which either existed or threatened to appear both in
Naples and Piedmont; and the Emperor of Russia told the Duke that
he had detected the Spanish Minister at St. Petersburg in an
attempt to corrupt his soldiers at the time of the mutiny of the
Guards, and that he had consequently sent him out of the country.
The Duke replied that if the Emperor of Russia had reasonable
grounds of complaint against Spain, he would be fully justified
in declaring war against her, and that he would advise him to do
so if he could march 150,000 men into Spain; but in suffering
three years to elapse without making any complaint he had
virtually renounced his right to complain, and that it was unfair
to rake up a forgotten grievance against Spain at a time when she
was menaced by another Power upon other grounds. The Duke
said that the Emperor of Russia once talked to him of the
practicability of marching an army into Spain, and seemed to
think he might do so. The Duke said that the French Government
would never allow it, when he said he could send them by sea. The
Duke told him it would take 2,000 ships. One of the arguments of
the Emperor of Russia was this: that constituted as their
Governments were (military Governments) it was impossible for
them to tolerate consistently with their own security any
revolution which originated in military insubordination.

[Page Head: DUKE OF WELLINGTON ON FRENCH INTERVENTION.]

After the Congress the Duke returned to Paris, and found that not
only Monsieur de Villèle was averse to war, but that the King,
Monsieur, and the Duke and Duchess of Angoulême were equally
disinclined to commence hostilities. His endeavours have been
incessantly directed to confirm their pacific dispositions, and
to induce the Spanish Government to display moderation in their
language and conduct. I asked him if such were the sentiments of
the ruling powers in France upon what the question now turned,
and why all idea of war was not abandoned, since both parties
were pacifically inclined. He said[17] that France had been led
into a dilemma by a series of erroneous measures, that hers was a
false position, that having made the demands she had done to the
Allied Powers, having held such lofty language, and having made
such a show of military preparation, her difficulty was how to
retract and retrace her steps with honour and credit to herself;
that she was a nation whose character depended in great measure
upon her military renown, and that it would reflect disgrace upon
her to have made such mighty preparations and assumed so
peremptory a tone without performing any action commensurate with
the expectations she had raised. He said that appearances
certainly became more warlike, but that he still hoped peace
would be maintained; that if war ensued it would be entered into
contrary to the interests and inclinations of all the parties
concerned, and that it would have been brought about by a
succession of circumstances over which they had no control; that
it was impossible for two armies to remain for a length of time
so near each other without mutual incursions being made, insults
and injuries exchanged, which must inevitably end in a state of
warfare and hostility; that the recall of the French Minister
from Madrid would contribute to this result, for both in the
Cortes and the Andalusian Junta expressions would be uttered
offensive to the French Government, and misrepresentations would
be made which would have the effect of exasperating the parties
and of widening the breach; and that there being no agent of
France at Madrid to furnish explanations and destroy the
effect of the misrepresentations, there would be a constant
correspondence between Madrid and Paris, in which vent would be
given to all the angry feelings that ever existed.[18] The Duke
advised that no answer should be given to the notes of the three
Powers, nor to that of the French Minister. Had the Spanish
Government declined to take notice of the notes, they would have
imposed upon them the difficulty of taking the next steps.
However, he admitted that the answer to the French note was very
moderate. There is no statesman in Spain. There are some eloquent
men in the Cortes, particularly Torreno and Arguelles. Torreno is
the ablest man, but he has injured his character by peculation.
The state of Spain is such that the most violent and turbulent
possess the greatest share of influence. Portugal is in a state
of greater intellectual improvement, and amongst the Portuguese
there are some men of ability--Palmella, and another whose name I
have forgotten. But Spain is not only deficient in men of
education and talent to direct her councils, but she has no army,
and not one officer of capacity. Not one was formed by the late
war, for such were their vanity and ignorance that they would
learn nothing from the English.

     [17] All this reasoning appears to me exceedingly false, and
          I do not understand a Government being compelled to
          adopt measures adverse to her inclinations and
          injurious to her interests by circumstances which she
          could not control. A wise and vigorous statesman would
          break through such a web as that in which the French
          politics are entangled, and I cannot comprehend how the
          honour of a nation is to be supported by an obstinate
          adherence to measures which she had been led
          incautiously to adopt, and which were afterwards found
          to militate with her true interests. If the councils of
          France were directed by a Minister of a vigorous and
          independent character--if such a Minister were to come
          forward and state frankly to Spain, and announce to all
          Europe, that he would not invade the liberty and the
          rights of Spain, and instantly put a stop to all
          hostile preparations, finding arguments for an act of
          magnanimity, moderation, and justice, which are never
          wanting when some deed of lawless ambition and violent
          aggression is to be perpetrated, would not such a man
          acquire a more solid reputation than he who sacrifices
          to some punctilio the interests of his own country and
          the happiness and repose of millions, how great soever
          might be the success with which his efforts should be
          crowned?--[C.C.G.]

     [18] These notes were addressed by the respective Courts to
          their own Ministers at Madrid. The Spanish Minister for
          Foreign Affairs need not have taken any notice of them
          whatever according to the forms of diplomatic
          communication.--[C.C.G.]

Upon one occasion only the Spaniards gained a victory, the day on
which St. Sebastian was stormed. Soult attacked a Spanish corps
commanded by General Freyre. When the Duke was informed of the
attack he hastened to the scene of action and placed two British
divisions in reserve, to support the Spaniards, but did not allow
them to come into action. He found the Spaniards running away as
fast as they could. He asked them where they were going. They
said they were taking off the wounded. He immediately sent and
ordered the gates of Irun, to which they were flying, to be shut
against them, and sent to Freyre to desire he would rally his
men. This was done, and they sustained the attack of the French;
but General Freyre sent to the Duke to beg he would let his
divisions support him, as he could not maintain himself much
longer. The Duke said to Freyre's aide-de-camp, 'If I let a
single man fire, the English will swear they gained the victory,
and he had much better do it all himself; besides, look through
my glass, and you will see the French are retreating.' This was
the case, for a violent storm of rain had occurred, and the
French, who had crossed a river, finding that it began to swell,
and that their bridges were in danger of being carried away, had
begun to retreat. The Spaniards maintained their position, but
the Duke said he believed they owed it to the storm more than to
their own resolution.

The Duke wrote to Alava some time ago (three years, I think) and
desired him to advise the King from him, now that he had accepted
the Constitution, to throw himself upon his Ministers. He has not
written to Alava, nor Alava to him, for three years, because he
knows that all letters are opened and read. He says the King of
Spain is not clever, but cunning; his manners are good. He is in
correspondence with the Allied Sovereigns, and is playing false.
He has the means of corresponding, because, although his
household is composed of men friendly to the revolution, there is
no restraint upon his person, and he sees whomsoever he pleases.
In case of war the French would obtain complete success. He
conceives their object would be to obtain possession of the
person of the King, to overthrow the Constitution, establish the
King upon the throne with a Constitution perhaps similar to the
French Charte, and to establish an army of occupation to maintain
such an order of things till he should be able to form an army of
his own.

[Page Head: DUKE OF WELLINGTON'S RECOLLECTIONS.]

The Duke saw the King of France twice while he was in Paris. He
was much broken, but talked of living twelve or fourteen years.
The second time he was in better health and spirits than the
first time. Madame du Cayla sent to the Duke to ask him to call
upon her; he went twice and she was not at home. At his levee the
King said, 'Il y a une personne qui regrette beaucoup de n'avoir
pas eu le plaisir de vous voir.' The courtiers told him the King
meant Madame du C. He went the same evening and saw her. She is a
fine woman, about forty, and agreeable. She sees the King every
Wednesday; he writes notes and verses to her, and he has given
her a great deal of money. He has built a house for her, and
given her a _terre_ near St. Denis which is valued at 1,500,000
francs. The King likes M. de Villèle[19] exceedingly. He has
occasionally talked to the Duke of Bonaparte. One day, when they
were standing together at the window which looks upon the garden
of the Tuileries, he said, 'One day Bonaparte was standing here
with ----, and he said, pointing to the Chamber of Deputies,
"Vous voyez ce bâtiment là: si je les démuselais, je serais
détrôné." I said, "The King has given them freedom of debate, and
I think I go on very well with it."'

     [19] Villèle was a lieutenant in the navy, and afterwards
          went to the Isle of France, where he was a member of
          the council (or whatever the legislation was called).
          At the revolution he returned to France and lived with
          his family near Toulouse, became a member of the
          departmental body, and subsequently Mayor of Toulouse;
          he was afterwards elected a Member of the Chamber, when
          he distinguished himself by his talents for debate, and
          became one of the chiefs of the Ultra party. He was a
          member of the Duc de Richelieu's Government, which he
          soon quitted, and was one of the principal instruments
          in overturning it. He anticipates a long
          administration.--[C.C.G.]

The Duke said he had been struck down by a musket shot whilst
reconnoitring the enemy as they were retreating in the Pyrenees.
The people round him thought he was killed, but he got up
directly. Alava was wounded a few minutes before him, and Major
Brooke nearly at the same time. He is of opinion that Massena was
the best French general to whom he was ever opposed.

He said that Bonaparte had not the patience requisite for
defensive operations. His last campaign (before the capture of
Paris) was very brilliant, probably the ablest of all his
performances. The Duke is of opinion that if he had possessed
greater patience he would have succeeded in compelling the Allies
to retreat; but they had adopted so judicious a system of defence
that he was foiled in the impetuous attacks he made upon them,
and after a partial failure which he met with, when he attacked
Blücher at Laon and Craon, he got tired of pursuing a course
which afforded no great results, and leaving a strong body under
Marmont to watch Blücher, he threw himself into the rear of the
Grand Army. The march upon Paris entirely disconcerted him and
finished the war. The Allies could not have maintained themselves
much longer, and had he continued to keep his force concentrated,
and to carry it as occasion required against one or other of the
two armies, the Duke thinks he must eventually have forced them
to retreat, and that their retreat would have been a difficult
operation. The British army could not have reached the scene of
operations for two months. The Allies did not dare attack
Napoleon; if he had himself come up he should certainly have
attacked him, for his army was the best that ever existed.

The Duke added that he traced back the present politics of France
to their chagrin at the dissolution of the Family Compact. At the
general pacification the Duke, on the part of the English
Government, insisted upon that treaty not being renewed, and made
a journey to Madrid for the purpose of determining the Spanish
Government. Talleyrand and the King of France made great efforts
to induce the Duke to desist from his opposition to the renewal
of the treaty, and both were exceedingly mortified at being
unable to shake the determination of our Government on this
point.

The Duke of Wellington told me that Knighton[20] managed the
King's affairs very well, that he was getting him out of debt
very quickly, and that the Ministers were well satisfied with
him. When he was appointed to the situation he now holds, he
called at Apsley House to announce it to the Duke, and expressed
his hopes that the appointment would not displease him. The Duke
said that he could have no objection, but he would give him a
piece of advice he trusted he would take in good part: this was,
that he would confine himself to the discharge of the functions
belonging to his own situation, and that he would not in any way
interfere with the Government; that as long as he should so
conduct himself he would go on very well, but that if ever he
should meddle with the concerns of the Ministers he would give
them such offence that they would not suffer him to remain in a
situation which he should thus abuse. Knighton thanked him very
much for his advice, and promised to conform himself to it. It
seems that he told this to the King, for the next time the Duke
saw him the King said he had heard the advice which he had given
to 'a person,' and that he might depend upon that person's
following it entirely.

     [20] [Sir William Knighton, who was originally the King's
          physician, had been appointed Keeper of the King's
          Privy Seal and Receiver of the Duchies of Lancaster and
          Cornwall; but in fact he acted as the King's Private
          Secretary, and it was to the duties of that delicate
          office that the Duke's advice applied.]


[Page Head: DUKE OF YORK'S ANECDOTES OF GEORGE IV.]

November 29th, 1823 {p.073}

In the various conversations which I have with the Duke of York
he continually tells me a variety of facts more or less curious,
sometimes relating to politics, but more frequently concerning
the affairs of the Royal Family, that I have neglected to note
down at the time, and I generally forget them afterwards. I must
acknowledge, however, that they do not interest me so much as
they would many other people. I have not much taste for Court
gossip. Another reason, too, is the difficulty of making a clear
narrative out of his confused communications. The principal
anecdotes he has told me have been, as well as I recollect,
relative to the Duchess of Gloucester's marriage, to the Duke of
Cumberland's marriage and all the dissensions to which that event
gave rise in the Royal Family, the differences between the King
and Prince Leopold, and other trifling matters which I have
forgotten. In all of these histories the King acted a part, in
which his bad temper, bad judgment, falseness, and duplicity were
equally conspicuous. I think it is not possible for any man to
have a worse opinion of another than the Duke has of the King.
From various instances of eccentricities I am persuaded that the
King is subject to occasional impressions which produce effects
like insanity; that if they continue to increase he will end by
being decidedly mad. The last thing which I have heard was at
Euston the other day. I went into the Duke's room, and found him
writing; he got up and told me that he was thrown into a great
dilemma by the conduct of the King, who had behaved extremely ill
to him. The matter which I could collect was this:--Upon the
disturbances breaking out in the West Indies it became necessary
to send off some troops as quickly as possible. In order to make
the necessary arrangements without delay, the Duke made various
dispositions, a part of which consisted in the removal of the
regiment on guard at Windsor and the substitution of another in
its place. Orders were expedited to carry this arrangement into
effect, and at the same time he communicated to the King what he
had done and desired his sanction to the arrangement. The Duke's
orders were already in operation, when he received a letter from
the King to say that he liked the regiment which was at Windsor,
and that it should not move; and in consequence of this fancy the
whole business was at a standstill. Thus he thought proper to
trifle with the interests of the country to gratify his own
childish caprice. He gave, too, great offence to the Duke, in
hindering his dispositions from being carried into effect, at the
same time.

The Duke told me another thing which he thought was indirectly
connected with the first. It seems one of the people about the
Court had ordered some furniture to be removed from Cumberland
Lodge to Windsor (something for the Chapel). Stephenson, as head
of the Board of Works, on being informed this was done, wrote to
the man to know by what orders he had done it. The man showed the
letter to the King, who was exceedingly incensed, and wrote to
Lord Liverpool to say that Stephenson's letter was insulting to
him, and desired he might be turned out. After some correspondence
on the subject Lord Liverpool persuaded the King to reinstate him;
but he was obliged to make all sorts of apologies and excuses for
having done what it was his duty to do. Stephenson is a friend
and servant of the Duke's, and in his ill-humour he tried to
revenge himself upon the Duke as well as on Stephenson, and he
thwarted the Duke in his military arrangements. What made his
conduct the less excusable was that it was important that these
things should be done quickly, and as the Duke was out of town a
correspondence became necessary, by which great delay would be
caused.


                              1824.


[Page Head: CHARACTER OF LORD TITCHFIELD.]

March 6th, 1824 {p.075}

Poor Titchfield[21] died last night at eight o'clock, having
lingered for some days in a state which gave to his family
alternate hopes and fears. He was better till yesterday
afternoon, when he was removed into another room; soon after this
he grew weaker, and at eight o'clock he expired. He is a great
loss to his family, of which he was by much the cleverest member,
and he was well calculated to fill the situation in which fortune
had placed him. His talents were certainly of a superior
description, but their efficacy was counteracted by the
eccentricity of his habits, the indolence of his mind, and his
vacillating and uncertain disposition. He was, however,
occasionally capable of intense application, and competent to
make himself master of any subject he thought fit to grapple
with; his mind was reflecting, combining, and argumentative, but
he had no imagination, and to passion, 'the sanguine credulity of
youth, and the fervent glow of enthusiasm' he was an entire
stranger. He never had any taste for society, and attached
himself early to politics. He started in life with an enthusiastic
admiration for Mr. Canning, but after two or three years, being
thrown into the society of many of his political opponents, he
began to entertain opinions very different from those of Mr.
Canning. He never, however, enlisted under any political banner,
and his great object seemed to be to prove to the world that he
belonged to no party. After Mr. Canning came into office he took
the earliest opportunity of informing his constituents that he
was unfettered by any political connection with him. Titchfield
was never at a public school, but was educated at home. Such an
education--the most injudicious which can be given to a young man
destined to fill a great situation--was not without its effect
upon his mind. The superior indulgences and the early habits of
authority and power in which he was brought up, without receiving
correction from any of those levelling circumstances which are
incidental to public schools, threw a shade of selfishness and
reserve over his character, which time, the commerce of the
world, and a naturally kind disposition had latterly done much to
correct. The subject to which he had principally devoted his
attention was political economy, and in the discussions in the
House of Commons upon currency he had particularly distinguished
himself. Whatever he attempted he had done so well that great
expectations were entertained of his future success, and the
indications he had given of talent will ensure to his memory a
lasting reputation. He has died at a moment the most fortunate,
perhaps, for his fame as a public man; but his loss to his family
is very great, and by them will be long felt and deeply lamented.

     [21] [William Henry, Marquis of Titchfield, eldest son of
          the fourth Duke of Portland.]

[An interval of two years occurs in the Journal, during which Mr.
Greville wrote nothing.]




                           CHAPTER III.

The Panic of 1825--Death of Emperor Alexander--The Duke of
  Wellington's Embassy to St. Petersburg--Robinson Chancellor of
  the Exchequer--Small Notes Bill--Death of Arthur de Ros--
  George III. and Lord Bute--Illness and Death of the Duke of
  York--His Funeral--Lord Liverpool struck with Paralysis--
  Rundell's Fortune and Will--Copley and Philpots--The Cottage--
  Formation of Mr. Canning's Administration--Secession of the
  Tories--The Whigs join him--Dinner at the Royal Lodge--
  Difficulties of Canning's Government--Duke of Wellington visits
  the King--Canning's Death--Anecdotes of Mr. Canning--
  Recognition of South American States--His Industry--The Duke of
  Wellington on Canning--Lord Goderich's Administration formed--
  The Difficulty about Herries--Position of the Whigs--The King's
  letter to Herries--Peel and George IV.--Interview of Lord
  Lansdowne with the King--Weakness of the Government--First
  Resignation of Lord Goderich--Lord Harrowby declines the
  Premiership--Lord Goderich returns--Brougham and Rogers--
  Conversation and Character of Brougham--Lord Goderich's
  Ministry dissolved--Cause of its Dissolution--Hostility of
  Herries--Position of Huskisson and his Friends--Herries and
  Huskisson both join the New Cabinet.


                              1826.


[Page Head: FINANCIAL DIFFICULTIES.]

February 12th, 1826 {p.077}

The last three months have been remarkable for the panic in the
money market, which lasted for a week or ten days--that is, was
at its height for that time. The causes of it had been brewing
for some months before, and he must be a sanguine and sagacious
politician who shall predict the termination of its effects.
There is now no panic, but the greatest alarm, and every prospect
of great distress, and long continuation of it. The state of the
City, and the terror of all the bankers and merchants, as well as
of all owners of property, is not to be conceived but by those
who witnessed it. This critical period drew forth many examples
of great and confiding liberality, as well as some of a very
opposite character. Men of great wealth and parsimonious habits
came and placed their whole fortunes at the disposal of their
bankers in order to support their credit. For many days the evil
continued to augment so rapidly, and the demands upon the Bank
were so great and increasing; that a Bank restriction was
expected by everyone. So determined, however, were Ministers
against this measure, that rather than yield to it they suffered
the Bank to run the greatest risk of stopping; for on the evening
of the day on which the alarm was at its worst there were only
8,000 sovereigns left in the till.[1] The next day gold was
poured in, and from that time things got better.

      [1] [Mr. Baring (Lord Ashburton) stated in his pamphlet on
          this crisis, 'The gold of the Bank was drained to
          within a very few thousand pounds, for although the
          public returns showed a result rather less scandalous,
          a certain Saturday night closed with nothing worth
          mentioning. It was then that the Bank applied to Lord
          Liverpool for an Order in Council to suspend cash
          payment. A conference took place between Lord
          Liverpool, Mr. Huskisson, the governor of the Bank, and
          Mr. Baring. The suspension of cash payments was happily
          averted, chiefly as it was said by the accidental
          discovery of a box of one-pound Bank of England notes,
          to the amount of a million and a half, which had never
          been issued, and which the public were content to
          receive.' Mr. Tooke, however, states in his 'History of
          Prices' (Continuation, vol. iv. p. 342) that the lowest
          amount of the banking treasure was on the 24th of
          December, 1825: Coin, £426,000; bullion, £601,000: in
          all, £1,027,000. The passage in the text refers of
          course to the banking department only.]

In the midst of all this the Emperor Alexander died, and after a
short period of doubt concerning his successor it was found that
Nicholas was to mount the throne. The first act of the Russian
Government was to communicate to ours their resolution no longer
to delay a recognition of the independence of Greece, and their
determination to support that measure if necessary by force of
arms. They invited us to co-operate in this object, but intimated
that if we were not disposed to join them they should undertake
it alone. The Duke of Wellington is gone to Russia, ostensibly to
compliment the new Emperor, but really to concert measures with
the Russian Ministry for carrying this measure into effect; and
it is remarkable that the Duke, upon taking leave of his friends
and family to set out on this journey, was deeply affected, as if
he had some presentiment that he should never return. Alava told
me that he had frequently taken leave of him, when both expected
that they should never meet again, yet neither upon that occasion
nor upon any other in the course of the seventeen years that he
has known him did he ever see him so moved. Lady Burghersh said
that when he took leave of her the tears ran down his cheeks; he
was also deeply affected when he parted from his mother.

In the discussion which took place on Friday night in the House
of Commons, when the Chancellor of the Exchequer[2] opened his
financial plan, he is deemed to have made a very bad speech, and
Huskisson a very good one. Robinson is probably unequal to the
present difficult conjuncture; a fair and candid man, and an
excellent Minister in days of calm and sunshine, but not endowed
with either capacity or experience for these stormy times,
besides being disqualified for vigorous measures by the
remissness and timidity of his character. However, though it is
the peculiar province of the Finance Minister to find a remedy
for these disorders, he may well be excused for not doing that
which the united wisdom of the country seems unequal to
accomplish. All men agree as to the existence of the evil, and
all differ as to the causes of it and the measures which will
effect its removal; not one man seems to see his way clearly
through the difficulty; however, 'time and the hour runs through
the roughest day,' and probably the country will what is called
right itself, and then great credit will be given to somebody or
other who deserves none.

      [2] [Right Hon. Frederick John Robinson, Chancellor of the
          Exchequer from January 1823 to April 1827; afterwards
          Viscount Goderich and Earl of Ripon.]


[Page Head: MR. ROBINSON'S SMALL NOTES BILL.]

February 20th, 1826 {p.079}

The Small Notes Bill,[3] as it is called, lowered the funds and
increased the alarm among the monied men. Numerous were the
complaints of the inefficacy of the measure for present relief,
numerous the predictions of the ultimate impossibility of
carrying it into effect. In the City, however, on Thursday
afternoon things began to improve; there was more confidence and
cheerfulness. On Friday evening the Chancellor of the Exchequer
comes down to the House and surprises everyone by abandoning one
part of his plan, and authorising the Bank to issue one pound
notes till October. The immediate cause of this alteration was a
communication which Hudson Gurney made to the Chancellor, that if
he persisted in his Bill he should send up £500,000 which he had
in Bank of England notes and change them for sovereigns, and that
all country bankers would follow his example. From this he found
that it would be impossible to persist in his original plan. The
great evil now is a want of circulating medium, and as the
immediate effect of the measure would be another run upon the
Bank, and that probably all the gold drawn from it would
disappear--for men now are anxious to hoard gold--this evil would
be increased tenfold. The whole country is in distress from the
absence of circulating medium for the common purposes of life; no
country banker will issue notes, for they are instantly returned
upon his hands and exchanged for gold. The circulation of country
notes being generally confined within a very limited extent, the
holders of them can easily present them for payment. The
circulation of a quantity of Bank of England paper will relieve
the immediate distress arising from this necessity, and the
difficulty of exchanging them for gold will ensure the continuance
of their circulation. When men find that they must take notes,
and that gold is not to be had without so much pain and trouble,
they will be contented to take the notes to which they have been
accustomed, and will think the paper of their own bankers as
good as that of the Bank of England, besides the advantage of
being less exposed to the losses arising from forgery. This is
the argument of the opponents of Robinson's Bill. It is generally
thought that the Ministers have disgraced themselves by their
precipitation and by the crudeness of their measures. Hitherto
they have done nothing towards removing the present distress, or
satisfying the minds of men, but the contrary. Robinson is
obviously unequal to the present crisis. His mind is not
sufficiently enlarged, nor does he seem to have any distinct
ideas upon the subject; he is fighting in the dark.

      [3] [On the 10th of February the Chancellor of the
          Exchequer moved in Committee 'That all promissory notes
          payable on demand issued by licensed Bankers in England
          or by the Bank of England for less than £5 shall not be
          issued or circulated beyond the 5th of April next.' Mr.
          Huskisson made an able speech in support of the
          proposal, showing that the inflation produced by the
          small note paper currency had greatly contributed to
          cause and aggravate the panic ('Huskisson's Speeches,'
          vol. ii. p. 444). Mr. Baring, afterwards Lord
          Ashburton, opposed the restriction of small notes, but
          with small success. The period allowed for the
          contraction of their circulation was, however, extended
          to the 10th of October.]

Everybody knows that Huskisson is the real author of the finance
measure of Government, and there can be no greater anomaly than
that of a Chancellor of the Exchequer who is obliged to propose
and defend measures of which another Minister is the real though
not the apparent author. The funds rose nearly two per cent, upon
this alteration in the Bill before the House, on account of the
prospect of an abundance of money. Still it is thought that
nothing will be sufficient to relieve the present distress but an
issue of Exchequer bills. So great and absorbing is the interest
which the present discussions excite that all men are become
political economists and financiers, and everybody is obliged to
have an opinion.


February 24th, 1826 {p.081}

I have been since yesterday the spectator of a melancholy scene
and engaged in a sad office. Arthur de Ros,[4] who was taken ill
a fortnight ago, became worse on Monday night. After this time he
was scarcely ever sensible, and yesterday, at a quarter-past two,
he expired. After they had given up all hopes they were induced
again to suffer them to revive from the disappearance of the most
unfavourable symptoms; but this was only the weakness which
preceded dissolution, and a few moments after his brother Henry
had told me that he did not despair he came and said that all was
over, and a little while after Rose announced that he had ceased
to breathe. He died tranquilly, and did not suffer at all. I
never saw such a distress. His father, mother, sisters, William,
and his wife went immediately to Boyle Farm. Henry would have
followed them, but I persuaded him to go home. He went first to
Mrs. ----, to whom Arthur had been attached for ten years, and
after a painful interview with her he came to his own house; he
has since been too ill to move. I have never seen grief so
strong and concentrated as his; it has exhausted his body and
overwhelmed his mind, and though I knew him to have been much
attached to his brother, I did not believe him capable of
feelings so acute as those which he has evinced. William is
much more calm and resigned, a strange, unaccountable thing
considering the characters of the two men--the one so indifferent,
and with feelings so apparently deadened to the affections of
this world, and the other with a sensibility so morbid, and such
acute susceptibility and strong feelings, that the least thing
affects him more deeply than very serious concerns do other men.

      [4] [Colonel the Hon. Arthur John Hill de Ros, born 1793,
          died February 1826. He was aide-de-camp to his Royal
          Highness the Duke of York.]

Arthur was an excellent creature, and will be regretted by the
Duke and deeply lamented by all who knew him intimately. His
talents were not brilliant, but he had good sound sense, and was
besides modest, diligent, honest, and trustworthy in a high
degree. There breathed not a more honourable man, and as his
ambition did not extend beyond the sphere in which fortune had
placed him and he was contented with his destiny, but for this
illness his career might have been long and prosperous. I went
last night to sleep at the house, that it might not appear to
have been entirely abandoned to the care of servants. The only
wish he expressed was that Francis Russell should succeed him,
which I have no doubt he will do.


February 25th, 1826 {p.082}

Received a letter from the Duke of York (to whom I had written to
announce poor Arthur's death) expressive of the greatest regret
for his loss.


March 2nd, 1826 {p.082}

I am just come from poor Arthur's funeral. There were present
William de Ros, the two Hills, Craufurd, Torrens, Taylor, Francis
Russell, Campbell, and B. Paget. The Duke appointed Francis his
aide-de-camp directly.


[Page Head: ILLNESS OF THE DUKE OF YORK.]

July 2nd, 1826 {p.083}

Four months since I have written anything. The Duke of York has
been dangerously ill, and it is still doubtful whether he will
recover. I was with him at Frogmore before Ascot; we went with
the King to see Windsor Castle. His Majesty has since been very
much annoyed about the Duke, cried a great deal when he heard how
bad he was, and has been twice to see him.

The elections have been particularly violent and the contests
very numerous. A batch of Peers has been made; everybody cries
out against Charles Ellis's peerage[5] (Lord Seaford); he has no
property, and is of no family, and his son is already a Peer. The
King, when these other Peers were created, asked Canning to name
somebody. He said he had nobody about whom he was interested but
Charles Ellis, and the King consenting to his elevation, it was
all arranged without his knowledge. However, it is thought very
ridiculous, and that he would have done much better to have
declined it. Clanricarde, too, being made a Marquis and an
English Peer is thought an indirect exertion of Canning's
influence.

      [5] [Charles Rose Ellis, created Baron Seaford in 1826.
          Lord Seaford was the father of Charles Augustus Ellis,
          who succeeded to the title of Lord Howard de Walden
          through his mother, Elizabeth Catherine Caroline
          Hervey, granddaughter of the fourth Earl of Bristol,
          who was the last Baron Howard de Walden, as heir
          general of Thomas, first Baron. The son of Lord Seaford
          had married a daughter of the fifth Duke of Portland,
          and was consequently a connection of Mr. Canning.]


London, December 14th, 1826 {p.083}

The Duke of York very ill; has been at the point of death several
times from his legs mortifying. Canning's speech the night before
last was most brilliant; much more cheered by the Opposition than
by his own friends. He is thought to have been imprudent, and he
gave offence to his colleagues by the concluding sentence of his
reply, when he said, '_I_ called into existence the new world to
redress the balance of the old.' The _I_ was not relished.
Brougham's compliment to Canning was magnificent, and he was
loudly cheered by Peel; altogether it was a fine display.

Yesterday the Duke [of York] told me that the late King [George
III.] was walking with him one day at Kew, and his Majesty said,
'The world tells many lies, and here is one instance. I am said
to have held frequent communication with Lord Bute, and the last
time I ever saw or spoke to him was in that pavilion in the year
1764.' The King went over to breakfast with his mother, the
Princess Dowager, and she took him aside and said, 'There is
somebody here who wishes very much to speak to you.' 'Who is it?'
'Lord Bute.' 'Good God, mamma! how could you bring him here? It
is impossible for me to hold any communication with Lord Bute in
this manner.' However, he did see him, when Lord Bute made a
violent attack upon him for having abandoned and neglected him.
The King replied that he could not, in justice to his Ministers,
hold any communication with him unknown to them, when Lord Bute
said that he would never see the King again. The King became
angry in his turn, and said, 'Then, my Lord, be it so, and
remember from henceforth we never meet again.' And from that day
he never beheld Lord Bute or had any communication with him.


                              1827.


[Page Head: DEATH OF THE DUKE OF YORK.]

Friday night, January 5th, 1827, half-past one {p.084}

I am just come from taking my last look at the poor Duke.[6] He
expired at twenty minutes after nine. Since eleven o'clock last
night the physicians never left his room. He never moved, and
they repeatedly thought that life was extinct, but it was not
till that hour that they found it was all over. The Duke of
Sussex and Stephenson were in the next room; Taylor, Torrens and
Dighton, Armstrong and I were upstairs. Armstrong and I had been
there about half an hour when they came and whispered something
to Dighton and called out Taylor. Dighton told Torrens and they
went out; immediately after Taylor came up, and told us it was
all over and begged we would go downstairs. We went directly into
the room. The Duke was sitting exactly as at the moment he died,
in his great arm-chair, dressed in his grey dressing-gown, his
head inclined against the side of the chair, his hands lying
before him, and looking as if he were in a deep and quiet sleep.
Not a vestige of pain was perceptible on his countenance, which,
except being thinner, was exactly such as I have seen it a
hundred times during his life. In fact, he had not suffered at
all, and had expired with all the ease and tranquillity which the
serenity of his countenance betokened. Nothing about or around
him had the semblance of death; it was all like quiet repose, and
it was not without a melancholy satisfaction we saw such evident
signs of the tranquillity of his last moments.

      [6] [His Royal Highness the Duke of York, second son of
          King George III., died on the 5th of January, 1827.]

In about a quarter of an hour Taylor and Halford set off to
Windsor to inform the King; the Duke of Sussex went to the
Princess Sophia; letters were written to all the Cabinet
Ministers, to the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Bishop of London,
and the Speaker of the House of Commons. Orders were given that
the great bell of St. Paul's should toll. The servants were then
admitted to see the Duke as he lay. Worley[7] was very much
affected at the sight, and one woman, the wife of Kendal, cried
bitterly, and I saw her stoop down and kiss his hand. The room
was then cleared and surrendered to the Lord Chamberlain's
people. Thus did I take my last leave of the poor Duke. I have
been the minister and associate of his pleasures and amusements
for some years, I have lived in his intimacy and experienced his
kindness, and am glad that I was present at this last sad
occasion to pay my poor tribute of respect and attachment to his
remains.

      [7] [Worley was the Duke's stud-groom.]

[Page Head: ILLNESS OF THE DUKE OF YORK.]

After the October meetings of 1825 the Duke came to town, not in
good health. At the end of November the Duchess of Rutland died,
which was a great blow to him, and probably made him worse. A
short time after her funeral he went to Belvoir, when the Duke of
Rutland took him down into the vault, where he stayed an hour and
returned excessively chilled. From that moment he grew worse till
the time of the Ascot races. We went to Frogmore two days before
the party began, and for those two days he led a quiet life. When
the party was assembled he lived as he had been used to do, going
to the races, sitting at table, and playing for hours at whist.
He slept wretchedly and seldom went to bed, but passed the
greater part of the night walking about the room or dozing in his
chair. I used to go into his room, which was next to mine, the
moment I was out of bed, and generally found him in his dressing
gown, looking harassed and ill. He showed me his legs, which were
always swelled. Still he went on till the last day of the party,
and when we got to town he was so ill that M'Gregor, who came to
him that night, thought him in danger. From that moment the
illness was established which has ended in his death. They began
by putting him through several courses of mercury, and they sent
him to the Greenwoods' villa at Brompton. Here he continued to
receive everybody who called on him, and went out in his carriage
every day. They always said that he was getting better. In August
he went to Brighton, and soon after his arrival his legs
mortified. It was then that Taylor went down to him and told him
that he was in great and immediate danger. He received the
information with perfect composure. The gangrene, however, was
stopped, and he came to town to the Duke of Rutland's house. The
dropsy continued to make rapid progress, and some time in
September he was tapped; twenty-two pints of water were drawn.
from him. This operation was kept secret, for the Duke did not
like that his situation should be known. He recovered from the
operation and regained his strength; no more water formed in his
body, but there was still water in his system, and a constant
discharge from his legs, which occasioned him great pain and made
wounds which were always open and extending. These wounds again
produced gangrene, but they always contrived to stop its
progress, and put the legs in a healing condition. As often,
however, as the legs began to heal the water began to rise, and
the medicines that were given to expel the water drove it again
to the legs, through which it made its way, making fresh sores
and entailing fresh mortification. In this way he went on, the
strength of his constitution still supporting him, till towards
the end of December, when the constitution could resist no
longer; his appetite totally failed, and with loss of appetite
came entire prostration of strength, and in short a complete
break-up. From that moment it was obvious that his recovery was
impossible, but he continued to struggle till the 5th of January,
although he had tasted no solid food whatever for above a
fortnight. At all the different periods at which his state was
critical it was always made known to him, and he received the
intimation with invariable firmness and composure. He said that
he enjoyed life but was not afraid to die. But though perfectly
acquainted with his own danger he never could bear that other
people should be informed of it, and so far from acknowledging
it, he always told his friends that he was better, and his
language was invariably that of a man who did not doubt of his
recovery. He was particularly anxious that nobody should know he
had been tapped, and it was not till many weeks after that
operation that he talked of it one day to me. Up to the last
moment that I saw him (the day week before he died) he told me he
was better, and he desired me to tell Montrond, who had called
upon him, that he would see him as soon as he was well enough. He
held the same language to everybody until the day previous to his
death, when he sent for Taylor and Stephenson into his room. He
could then hardly speak, but he took hold of Stephenson's hand,
and looking at Taylor, said, 'I am now dying.' He tried to
articulate something else, but he was unintelligible. About a
fortnight before his death, soon after his appetite began to
fail, Taylor had to announce to him his danger. He received the
intelligence with the same coolness he had before shown, but it
was not without difficulty that he admitted the conviction. A few
days after he received the Sacrament, which was administered by
the Bishop of London, in the presence of Sir H. Halford, Taylor,
and the Princess Sophia. He was then very weak, but calm and
collected during the ceremony. When it was over he shook hands
with the men and kissed the Princess. The King saw him the next
day, but he was in a lethargic state nearly the whole time that
he was there. For many days before his death the physicians
thought that every day must close the scene, but such was the
natural strength of his constitution that he evinced a tenacity
of life and maintained a struggle which astonished them all, and
of which they unanimously declared that their practice had never
furnished them with a similar instance. It seems that three years
ago, when he was very unwell, M'Gregor told him that unless he
was more prudent he would certainly be afflicted with dropsy. He
had been subject to spasms, and in consequence of them was averse
to lie down in bed, and to this pernicious habit and that of
sitting for many hours together at table, or at cards, they
attribute the origin, of the complaint which has terminated so
fatally. Had he been a more docile patient, from the amazing
vigour of his constitution he might have looked forward to a very
long life. His sufferings in the course of his illness have been
very great, and almost without cessation. Nothing could exceed
the patience and courage with which he endured them; his serenity
and good humour were never disturbed, and he never uttered a
word or complaint, except occasionally at the length of his
confinement. He not only saw all the visitors who chose to call
upon him, even those with whom he was not in habits of intimacy,
but he transacted the whole of his public business every day, and
every paper was laid before him and every detail gone through as
if he had been in perfect health. This he continued to within a
few days of his death, till his strength was so entirely
exhausted that he lay in a state of almost complete insensibility.
It is remarkable that from the beginning to the end of his
illness I never saw him that he did not tell me that he was a
great deal better, and he never wrote to me without assuring me
that he was going on as well as possible.


[Page Head: FUNERAL OF THE DUKE OF YORK.]

February 12th, 1827

The Duke of York was no sooner dead than the public press began
to attack him, and while those private virtues were not denied
him for which he had always been conspicuous, they enlarged in a
strain of severe invective against his careless and expensive
habits, his addiction to gambling; and above all they raked up
the old story of Mrs. Clark and the investigation of 1809, and
published many of his letters and all the disgusting details of
that unfortunate affair, and that in a manner calculated to throw
discredit on his character. The newspapers, however, soon found
they had made a mistake, that this course was not congenial to
public feeling, and from that moment their columns have been
filled with panegyrics upon his public services and his private
virtues. The King ordered that the funeral should be public and
magnificent; all the details of the ceremonial were arranged by
himself. He showed great feeling about his brother and exceeding
kindness in providing for his servants, whom the Duke was himself
unable to provide for. He gave £6,000 to pay immediate expenses
and took many of the old servants into his own service. There
appeared a few days after the Duke's death an infamous forgery,
purporting to be a letter or declaration written by him a short
time before his death (principally upon the subject of the
Catholic question), which, however, was disavowed by Taylor, but
not till after many thousand copies had been sold. I dare say
many people believe still that he was the author of this
pamphlet. All his effects either have been or will be sold by
auction. The funeral took place a fortnight after his death.
Nothing could be managed worse than it was, and except the
appearance of the soldiers in the chapel, which was extremely
fine, the spectacle was by no means imposing; the cold was
intense, and it is only marvellous that more persons did not
suffer from it. As it is the Bishop of Lincoln has died of the
effects of it; Canning has been dangerously ill, and is still
very unwell; and the Dukes of Wellington and Montrose were both
very seriously unwell for some days after. The King was very
angry when he heard how miserably the ceremony had been
performed. I have been this evening to hear Peel move the address
of condolence to the King, which Canning would have done if he
had been here; and it is a pity he was not, for Peel did it very
ill: it was poor and jejune, and undistinguished by eloquence or
the appearance of deep feeling. I was greatly disappointed, for I
expected to hear a worthier tribute to his merits. Canning was
very anxious to have been here to have performed this duty
himself. The letters which he wrote to the Royal Family abroad
announcing the event of his death were admirable and gave great
satisfaction to the King.


February 21st, 1827 {p.090}

Three days ago Lord Liverpool was seized with an apoplectic or
paralytic attack. The moment it was known every sort of
speculation was afloat as to the probable changes this event
would make in the Ministry. It was remarked how little anybody
appeared to care about the _man_; whether this indifference
reflects most upon the world or upon him, I do not pretend to
say. A report was generally circulated that the Duke of
Cumberland was dead, which was believed, but turns out to be
untrue.

Old Rundell (of the house of Rundell and Bridge, the great
silversmiths and jewellers) died last week, and appointed Robarts
one of his executors. Robarts called on me this morning, and told
me he had been yesterday to Doctors' Commons to prove the will.
Rundell was eighty years old, and died worth between £1,400,000
and £1,500,000, the greater part of which is vested in the funds.
He has left the bulk of his property to his great-nephew, a man
of the name of Neal, who is residuary legatee and will inherit
£900,000--this Mr. Neal had taken care of him for the last
fourteen years--to a woman who had lived with him many years, and
in whose house he died, and to two natural sons by her he only
left £5,000 apiece. The old man began the world without a guinea,
became in the course of time partner in that house during its
most flourishing period, and by steady gains and continual
parsimony amassed this enormous wealth. He never spent anything
and lived wretchedly. During the panic he came to Robarts, who
was his banker, and offered to place at his disposal any sum he
might require. When the executors went to prove the will, they
were told at Doctors' Commons that it was the largest sum that
ever had been registered there.


March 13th, 1827 {p.091}

Since the debate on the Catholic question there has been a great
expectation that Canning would resign. Many of his friends think
he made an imprudent speech that night, and if he had not lashed
the Master of the Rolls so severely that he would have got more
votes.[8] The truth is he was mightily nettled by Dr. Philpots'
pamphlet and at Copley making a speech taken entirely from it.
The Master protested that he had no idea of offending Canning,
and until he got up had no notion that Canning had taken offence
at his speech. The question was lost by accident; several
pro-Catholics were suddenly taken ill or arrived too late for the
division, and the election petitions went all against them.

      [8] [Sir John Copley was then Master of the Rolls, but this
          occurrence did not prevent Canning from making him Lord
          Chancellor on the 2nd of May following, when he was
          raised to the peerage with the title of Baron
          Lyndhurst.]


[Page Head: INTERVIEW WITH GEORGE IV.]

March 16th, 1827 {p.091}

On Wednesday at the Council at St. James's the King desired I
would go down to Windsor, that he might speak to me. I went down
on Thursday to the Cottage, and, after waiting two hours and a
half, was ushered into his bedroom. I found him sitting at a
round table near his bed, in a _douillette_, and in pretty good
health and spirits. He talked about his horses and told some old
stories, lamented the death of the Duke of York, which he said
was a loss to him such as no one could conceive, and that he felt
it every instant. He kept me about an hour, was very civil, and
then dismissed me.

Canning made an apology to the Master of the Rolls for his
severity in the debate on the Catholic question.


March 25th, 1827 {p.091}

When the King heard of Lord Liverpool's illness he was in great
agitation. He sent for Peel in the night, and told him he must
see the Duke of Wellington. Peel endeavoured to dissuade him, but
in vain. The Duke was sent for, but he refused to go. He sent the
King word that he had nothing to say to him, and that it would
not be fair to his colleagues that he should see the King at such
a moment. Consequently he saw none of his Ministers till he saw
Canning, who was taken to the Pavilion in a chair one day. There
have been a variety of reports about Lord Liverpool's successor
and a new Administration, as always happens on such occasions.

The King is in very good health and excellent spirits. He had a
large party at the Lodge last week, and Canning, the Granvilles,
Carlisles, Lievens, are going there next week. Mount Charles told
me yesterday that next week he thinks something must be decided,
and he told me what I did not know, that the King's opinions on
the Catholic question are just the same as those of the Duke of
York, and equally strong. This is the great difficulty which
Canning has to get over with him. He does not much like Canning,
though C. does everything he can to gratify and please him. Mount
Charles told me that his mother (Lady Conyngham) has strong
opinions in favour of the Catholics, but that she never talks to
the King on the subject, nor indeed upon politics at all.


[Page Head: MR. CANNING'S ADMINISTRATION.]

April 13th, 1827 {p.092}

The King came to town a week ago. From the moment of his arrival
every hour produced a fresh report about the Administration;
every day the new appointment was expected to be declared, and
the Ministers Peel, Lord Bathurst, Duke of Wellington, and
Canning were successively designated as the persons chosen to
form a Government. He had no sooner arrived than he saw his
Ministers _seriatim_, but nothing could induce him to come to any
determination. He wavered and doubted, and to his confidants,
with whom he could bluster and talk big, he expressed in no
measured terms his detestation of Liberal principles, and
especially of Catholic Emancipation. He begged his Ministers to
stand by him, and day after day elapsed and nothing was settled.
In the meantime London was alive with reports; and the _on dit_
of the day, repeated with every variety of circumstance and with
the usual positiveness of entire ignorance, would fill a volume.
Time crept on, and Parliament was to adjourn on the 13th (this
day). On the 9th Canning went to the King, and, after a long
audience, he came away without anything being settled. On the
10th he went again, and told his Majesty that longer delay was
impossible, and that he must come to some determination. On the
evening of the 10th we received a note from Lord Bathurst, saying
that the King had desired Canning to form an Administration on
the principles of that of which Lord Liverpool had been at the
head. This was not generally known that evening. Last night it
was said that the Duke of Wellington would not remain in the new
Cabinet, and we heard that Peel had resigned. To-day everything
will probably be known. Canning and his friends say that the King
has behaved admirably in this business, and they affect to
consider his appointment unconditional and unfettered; but this
is by no means the view which the others take of it. The King,
however, has acted in such a way that all his Ministers (except
those whose interest it now is to laud him to the skies) are
disgusted with his doubting, wavering, uncertain conduct, so weak
in action and so intemperate in language. It is now supposed
that he has been influenced by Knighton in coming to this
determination, in which he certainly has acted in a manner quite
at variance with his professions and the whole tenor of his
language. It must be owned, if this is so, that although Canning
has gained his point--has got the power into his hands and is
nominally Prime Minister--no man ever took office under more
humiliating circumstances or was placed in a more difficult and
uncertain situation; indeed, a greater anomaly cannot be
imagined. Canning, disliked by the King, opposed by the
aristocracy and the nation, and unsupported by the Parliament, is
appointed Prime Minister. The King, irresolute and uncertain, is
induced to nominate a man whose principles and opinions he fears
and dislikes by the advice and influence of his physician. The
measure which is of paramount importance Canning cannot carry as
he desires and believes to be necessary; he must form a Cabinet
full of disunion, and he is doubtful what support he can expect
from the old adherents of Government, by whom he is abhorred.

[Page Head: MR. CANNING'S ADMINISTRATION.]

The writ was moved for Canning yesterday by Wynne, 'he having
accepted the office of First Commissioner of the Treasury.' This
morning the Chancellor, Peel, Lord Westmoreland, and the Duke of
Wellington resigned. Lord Bathurst immediately wrote to Canning,
saying that, finding they had resigned, he could not avoid
sending in his resignation also; that it was unnecessary to enter
into explanations, which could only tend to widen the breach such
a separation must make. Afterwards Lord Melville resigned,
although well with Canning and a friend to the Catholics; he said
he could not desert the men with whom he had acted for so many
years. The Whigs seem greatly elated at the breaking up of this
Administration. The Tories evidently think Canning is in a
scrape, that he will not be able to form a Government, and that
the power will return into their hands. How Canning and his
friends feel is not yet known, nor what the King feels at being
deserted by half his Cabinet. The opinion prevalent with the
Opposition is that Canning has been deserted by his colleagues,
who induced him to accept the Government by promising their
support and adherence, and that when he had taken the final step
they left him to make the arrangements and fill up their places
as he could. This, however, is not the case. I saw George
Dawson[9] this evening, and he assured me that Canning had
received ample notice from all these Ministers that they would
not hold office under him, and that if he was appointed Prime
Minister they should resign. Peel told him this three weeks ago:
'that he could not, with a due regard to his own character,
continue in office under a man whose opinions are so diametrically
opposite to his own upon the most important question; that he had
no views of personal ambition, but that as the administration of
Ireland was his peculiar province it was impossible they should
not come into constant collision upon that subject.' They had no
objection to act with Canning, always considering him as one of
the most influential members of the Cabinet, but they could not
hold offices _under_ him. He said that he could not imagine how
Canning with his knowledge could take such a step, and it is
evident that he has no idea of his being able to carry on the
Government at all.

      [9] The Right Hon. George Robert Dawson was Secretary of
          the Treasury from 1828 to 1830, and was made a Privy
          Councillor on resigning that office. He married in 1816
          Mary, the eldest daughter of the first Sir Robert Peel,
          and was consequently the brother-in-law of Mr. Peel,
          the Minister.


April 30th, 1827 {p.095}

From the period of Canning's acceptance of office up to Thursday
night there have been continual negotiations between Canning and
the Whigs, and it is not possible to imagine greater curiosity
and more intense anxiety than have been exhibited during the
interval. The violence and confusion of parties have been
extreme--the new Ministers furious with their old colleagues, the
ex-Ministers equally indignant with those they left behind them.


May 12th, 1827 {p.095}

It is necessary to go back to the first formation of the
Government.[10] As soon as Canning had got the King's commission
he began to negotiate, and the Whigs readily enough entered into
negotiation. The friends of Ministers resigned one after another,
and for some time it seemed very doubtful whether Canning would
be able to form a Government at all. His first measure was,
however, very judicious--that of appointing the Duke of Clarence
Lord High Admiral--nothing served so much to disconcert his
opponents. The negotiations went on (through the Duke of
Devonshire) up to the end of the Easter recess, when Lord
Lansdowne came to town, and after much delay it was announced
that the Whigs would support the new Government, but that none of
them would take office immediately. The places were all filled
up, but the appointments were understood to be only provisional,
and the Duke of Portland, Lord Dudley, and Sturges Bourne were
considered to hold their offices until Lord Lansdowne, Lord
Carlisle, and Tierney should join the Cabinet. With this
arrangement Parliament met, and the rage which had been
accumulating in the minds of the seceders soon burst forth in a
furious attack on this provisional arrangement. The Whigs have
nearly in a body joined Government, with the exception of Lord
Grey in the House of Lords, who in a speech full of eloquence
attacked Canning's political life and character and announced his
intention of remaining neuter. In the meantime it was understood
that there was a reason for Lord Lansdowne not joining Government
immediately, which was not to be made public till that event took
place, and this secret was only imparted to a very few people; it
was even concealed from Brougham and the leaders of the party.
The secret, however, turns out to be this: Lord Lansdowne
insisted upon modelling the Irish Government as he pleased--that
is, in putting a Lord-Lieutenant, a Chancellor, and a Secretary
there favourable to the Catholic claims, to which the King would
not consent. Canning entreated Lord Lansdowne to have patience,
to allow time to elapse, during which the King's scruples might
be removed, and promised that every endeavour should be made to
reconcile the King to the arrangement Lord Lansdowne desired.
After much discussion it was resolved that Lord Lansdowne should
support Government, but that he should not take office until this
point was settled; and so the matter has remained.

     [10] [The Cabinet formed by Mr. Canning was thus
          constituted:--
            Mr. Canning, First Lord of the Treasury and
               Chancellor of the Exchequer.
            Lord Lyndhurst, Lord High Chancellor.
            Earl of Harrowby, Lord President of the Council.
            Duke of Portland, Lord Privy Seal, and afterwards the
               Earl of Carlisle.
            Lord Dudley, Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs.
            Lord Goderich, Secretary of State for Colonial
               Affairs and War.
            Mr. Sturges Bourne, Secretary of State for the Home
               Department (this office was shortly afterwards
               transferred to the Marquis of Lansdowne)
            Mr. Huskisson, President of the Board of Trade.
            Mr. Wynn, President of the Board of Control.
            Lord Bexley, Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster.
            Mr. Tierney, Master of the Mint.
            The Duke of Clarence was named Lord High Admiral.
            The Office of Commander-in-Chief remained vacant
               during the Administration of Mr. Canning. This
               Administration lasted ninety-eight days, until the
               death of Mr. Canning.]


[Page Head: MR. CANNING'S ADMINISTRATION.]

June 3rd, 1827 {p.096}

Soon after writing this Lord Lansdowne came into the Cabinet,
together with Tierney and Lord Carlisle, M'Donald and Abercromby
also taking places. They found so many objections to the
unsettled state of the Cabinet, and the provisional arrangements
had brought so much odium and ridicule upon the Government, that
it was thought necessary to settle this matter without loss of
time, but Lord Lansdowne would not consent to take the Home
Office except upon the conditions on which he had before
insisted. He therefore came into the Cabinet without a place. But
it is quite evident that the present state of affairs is far from
satisfactory; the Government is not established on a firm or
secure basis, and the members of it are not altogether satisfied
with each other or themselves. Lord Lansdowne particularly does
not feel comfortable where he is, and does not think that he has
been well treated by his own friends. It seems that when first
overtures were made to him by Canning he called a meeting of his
friends at Lansdowne House, at which he declared his own
sentiments and the conditions on which he would join the
Government. The persons there assembled unanimously agreed with
him, but a few days after a meeting was called at Brooks's which
was more numerously attended, and there certain resolutions were
agreed upon which were not in conformity with the opinions
expressed in Lansdowne House, and these resolutions were
communicated to Canning as the sentiments of the great body of
the Whigs, but without the same being imparted to Lord Lansdowne,
who was then at Bowood (this fact I had last night from
Duncannon[11] and Hobhouse[12]). Matters, however, went on
quietly enough till the other night, when the Government was beat
in the House of Lords upon the clause in the Corn Bill, and this
defeat it is obvious has enraged and embarrassed them to the
greatest degree.[13] Duncannon, who is entirely in the confidence
of the moderate Whig party, says that it is impossible the thing
can go on in this way; three Lords in the King's household
(Errol, Macclesfield, and Delawarr) voted against the Bill, and
if they are not dismissed it will be such a proof of the
feebleness of Government as will disgust all the Whigs and make
their support very lukewarm.[14] Burdett, who was more active and
zealous than anybody in bringing about the Coalition, is very
much disgusted already, and there appears altogether such a want
of confidence and unanimity among them as must lead to the
dissolution of the Government unless Canning can by some vigorous
measures establish his credit and convince the world of his
strength. In Ireland the Chancellor[15] has refused to put the
Great Seal to the appointment of Doherty as Solicitor-General. It
is supposed that he will take this occasion to resign, and it
will then be seen what part the King will take in the nomination
of his successor. The King sees numbers of people, talks
incessantly, and does nothing. Canning was with him yesterday
evening, and the result of his audience will be very interesting,
because it will appear whether he has insisted upon, and the King
consented to, the dismissal of the refractory Lords, as well as
what he will do about the Irish Chancellor. Government are
indignant with the Duke of Wellington and the other ex-Ministers
for opposing the Corn Bill, which they had been themselves (when
in office) instrumental in framing, as well as for the use which
the Duke made of Huskisson's letter.

     [11] [John William, Viscount Duncannon, afterwards fourth
          Earl of Bessborough.]

     [12] [Mr. John Cam Hobhouse, M.P. for Westminster,
          afterwards Sir John C. Hobhouse, Bart., raised to the
          peerage in 1851 by the title of Baron Broughton de
          Giffard.]

     [13] [It was with reference to this defeat that Canning said
          soon afterwards in the House of Commons that 'the Duke
          of Wellington had been made the instrument of others
          for their own particular views,' and he pledged himself
          to bring in another Corn Bill in the following session.
          But these were almost the last words uttered by Canning
          in Parliament.]

     [14] [Lord Delawarr resigned of his own accord, Lord Errol
          was obliged to resign, and Lord Macclesfield came over
          and voted with Government on the second reading of the
          Corn Bill.]

     [15] [Lord Manners was still Lord Chancellor of Ireland, as
          he had been since 1807. Mr. Doherty was made
          Solicitor-General for Ireland on the 18th of June.]


[Page Head: THE ROYAL LODGE.]

June 17th, 1827 {p.098}

I was at the Royal Lodge for one night last Wednesday; about
thirty people sat down to dinner, and the company was changed
nearly every day. It is a delightful place to live in, but the
rooms are too low and too small for very large parties. Nothing
can exceed the luxury of the internal arrangements; the King was
very well and in excellent spirits, but very weak in his knees
and could not walk without difficulty. The evening passed off
tolerably, owing to the Tyrolese, whom Esterhazy brought down to
amuse the King, and he was so pleased with them that he made them
sing and dance before him the whole evening; the women kissed his
face and the men his hand, and he talked to them in German.
Though this evening went off well enough, it is clear that
nothing would be more insupportable than to live at this Court;
the dulness must be excessive, and the people who compose his
habitual society are the most insipid and uninteresting that can
be found. As for Lady Conyngham, she looks bored to death, and
she never speaks, never appears to have one word to say to the
King, who, however, talks himself without ceasing. Canning came
the day I went away, and was very well received by his Majesty;
he looked dreadfully ill. The only thing which interested me was
the account I heard from Francis Conyngham about Knighton. He is
seldom there, and when he comes scarcely stays above a night or
two. But he governs everything about the house, and cannot endure
anybody who is likely to dispute his empire. The King certainly
does not like him, is always happier when he is away, and never
presses him to stay or to return. When he is there he has
constant access to the King at all times and whenever he pleases.
He is on bad terms with Mount Charles, he bullies Lord Conyngham,
and he is barely civil to Lady C.; he knows that Mount Charles is
independent of him, and that the King likes him and admits him
continually and familiarly to his presence, and of this it seems
that he is jealous. I was more struck with one word which dropped
from him than with all he told me of Sir W. Knighton. While the
Tyrolese were dancing and singing, and there was a sort of gay
uproar going on, with which the King was greatly delighted, he
said, 'I would give ten guineas to see Knighton walk into the
room now,' as if it were some master who was absent, and who
should suddenly return and find his family and servants
merrymaking in his absence; it indicates a strange sort of power
possessed by him.

[Page Head: HOSTILITY OF LORD GREY.]

The King was very civil to the Duke of Dorset, and repeatedly
told him that what had passed would make no difference in their
private friendship. In the meantime the Corn Bill has been thrown
out, and I think political animosities are full as strong as
ever, though they have taken rather a sulky than a violent tone.
I had a long conversation with Duncannon yesterday, who is fully
possessed of the sentiments of all the Whigs, and by what he says
it is clear that they are extremely dissatisfied; they want
Canning to display his power by some signal act of authority, and
to show that he is really supported cordially by the King. The
opposite party are persuaded that the King is secretly inclined
to them and averse to his present Government, and this opinion
obtains more or less with the public in consequence of the
impunity with which Canning has been braved by the Chancellor in
Ireland. The appointment of Doherty as Solicitor-General has
never yet passed the Great Seal, and Lord Manners refuses to
sanction it; he has likewise refused to put Sir Patrick Bellew (a
Catholic) in the Commission of the Peace, though he is a
respectable man and he has been strongly pressed to do it even by
Protestants. This refusal so disgusted Duncannon that he was very
near withdrawing his name from the Commission, and if he had his
example would have been followed by many others, but Lord Spencer
dissuaded him from doing so. Lord Grey is in such a state of
irritation that he will hardly speak to any of his old friends,
and he declares that he will never set his foot in Brooks's
again. All this is the more extraordinary, and the vivacity of
his temper the more unaccountable, because he has constantly
declined taking an active part in politics when invited to do so
for a long time past; and whenever Duncannon has asked his advice
or consulted his opinions or wishes, he has invariably referred
him to Lord Lansdowne as the person whom his friends were to look
upon as their leader, asserting that he had withdrawn himself
from public life and would have no more concern with politics.
More than this, when first overtures were made by Canning to the
Whigs, it was the unanimous opinion of all those who have since
joined the Government that Lord Lansdowne and his friends could
not join an Administration of which Peel was to be a member (for
at that time the resignation of Peel was not contemplated as a
probable event), and this opinion was warmly combated by Lord
Grey, who contended that there was no reason why they should not
coalesce with Canning and Peel. What induced him to alter his
opinion so decidedly and to become so bitter an enemy to the
present arrangements does not appear, unless it is to be
attributed to a feeling of pique and resentment at not having
been more consulted, or that overtures were not made to himself.
The pretext he took for declaring himself was the appointment of
Copley to be Chancellor, when he said that it was impossible to
support a Government which had made such an appointment.


July 5th, 1827 {p.101}

The session is over, and has been short but violent enough. There
is apparently a majority against the Ministry in the House of
Lords, though they seem safe in the House of Commons. All depends
upon Canning's prudence and firmness during the recess. As to the
King, he seems desirous of living a quiet life and disposing of
all patronage; public measures and public men are equally
indifferent to him. The Duke of Wellington, who knows him well,
says he does not care a farthing about the Catholic question, but
he does not like to depart from the example of his father and the
Duke of York, to which they owed so much of their popularity. His
conduct is entirely influenced by selfish considerations, and he
neither knows nor cares what measures the exigencies of the
country demand. The present state of parties is so extraordinary
that it cannot last, and it remains to be seen whether Lord Grey
and the other Whigs will reunite themselves to the main body and
support Canning's Government, or whether they will join with the
Tories in their efforts to overturn it. Lord Grey's temper,
irritated by the attacks which have been made on him, seems
likely to urge him to the latter alternative.


July 25th, 1827 {p.102}

Canning is gone to Chiswick, where he has had the lumbago, and
could not go to the Council last week. He is very unwell, and in
a very precarious state, I think. I was at the Council last
Monday week; it was held for the appointment of Lords Lansdowne
and Carlisle, Lord Lansdowne having consented to take the Home
Office, and Lord Carlisle the Privy Seal; the only Cabinet
Ministers present were the four who changed places. It was the
first time the King had given Lord Lansdowne an audience, but I
believe he was very civil to him. The King gave him an account of
the Duke of Buckingham's visit to him (from Dropmore), the result
of which was that he sent his proxy to Lord Goderich, but not
with a good grace.

The Duke of Wellington has been to the Lodge, and great is the
speculation thereupon.[16] It is fiercely debated whether he went
by invitation or not, and how long he stayed. He was only with
the King twenty minutes, for so Prince Leopold, who was there,
told Lambton, who told me. I don't know if he was invited or no.
The King has taken from Prince Leopold the plate that was given,
or, as they now say, lent to him, on his marriage. The Chamberlain
sent to Sir E. Gardiner for it in the Prince's absence, and he
refused to give it up without his Royal Highness's orders, but
the Prince, as soon as he heard of it, ordered it to be sent to
the Chamberlain.

     [16] [The causes and consequences of this visit, which was
          by invitation from the King, are related in the Duke of
          Wellington's 'Correspondence,' New Series, vol. iv.
          p. 63 _et seq_.]

The Irish Chancellor has given way about Doherty's appointment,
and put the Great Seal to it before his own resignation. He did
it with a good grace, Lord Lansdowne told me.

We went all over the Castle the other day; his Majesty will not
let anybody see it now. I don't think enough is effected for the
enormous sums expended, though it is a fine and will be a good
house; still, how far (as a palace) from Versailles, St. Cloud,
and the other palaces in France! The external terrace has spoilt
the old one, and is altogether a frightful excrescence, and
should never have been made.


[Page Head: DEATH OF CANNING.]

August 9th, 1827 {p.103}

Canning died yesterday morning at four o'clock. His danger was
only announced on Sunday night, though it had existed from the
preceding Wednesday. When he saw the King on Monday his Majesty
told him he looked very ill, and he replied that 'he did not know
what was the matter with him, but that he was ill all over.'
Nothing could exceed the consternation caused by the announcement
of his danger and the despair of his colleagues. From the first
there was no hope. He was aware of his danger, and said, 'It is
hard upon the King to have to fight the battle over again.' The
Cabinet met on Monday, and great unanimity prevailed among them.
They all agreed to stand by each other in the event of his death.
As soon as it happened Lord Lansdowne went down to Windsor and
saw the King. His Majesty spoke with great affection of Canning,
and said something of the difficulties in which he was again
involved. Lord L. replied that he had come down, as it was his
official duty to do, to announce to him the event; that nothing
could be further from his wish or intention than to elicit from
him any opinion as to the future, and he begged his Majesty would
not say one word upon that subject. The King said that the first
thing he should do would be to show every mark of respect to the
memory and attachment to the person of Canning, and that he
should therefore send for those of his Ministers who had been the
most closely connected with him in public and private life. He
sent immediately for Lord Goderich and Sturges Bourne, who went
down to him when Lord Lansdowne returned.

Yesterday I saw some letters from Mr. Arbuthnot[17] (Gosh) giving
an account of the break-up of the old Government, and of the
reasons by which they had been influenced in resigning. They were
three in number, very violent and indignant, defending the Duke
and attacking Canning, but they contained little more than has
since appeared and been made public. The only fact that appeared
to me of consequence was this: that Peel, though he had resigned
on different grounds, was indignant at the way in which the Duke
had been treated, and was resolved never to take office till full
reparation had been made to him; that Lord Bathurst had begged
Gosh (Mr. Arbuthnot) not to mention this, as it might do harm.
The next letter was a long tirade with a great deal of wrath and
indignation, such as might be expected. He says that they knew
Canning was negotiating with the Whigs while he was pretending
that he wished the old Government to go on; and that in the
course of the negotiation with his old colleagues he offered
Peel, if he would stay with him, to recall the pro-Catholic
Lord-Lieutenant and send a Protestant. Peel wanted the Duke to
give up the army and take the Treasury, which he would not hear
of. He was miserable at the idea, and opposed it so strongly that
they could not press it upon him. However, the Peers--meaning all
the Lords who had made such a stir--applied to the Duke to put
himself at the head of the Government, but he hardly sent an
answer to their application--he would not hear of it.

     [17] [Right Hon. Charles Arbuthnot, the most confidential
          friend of the Duke of Wellington, with whom he lived.
          He was known in society by the nickname of 'Gosh,' by
          which he is frequently described in these Journals.]

[Page Head: ANECDOTES OF CANNING.]

I may here introduce some anecdotes of Canning told me by Lord
George Bentinck, his private secretary:--

Some time after they had been in office (after Lord Londonderry's
death) they found in a drawer, which apparently had been
forgotten or overlooked, some papers, which were despatches and
copies of correspondence between Lord Castlereagh and Lord
Stewart. These despatches were very curious, and more particularly
so after his attack last year on Canning for misappropriating the
secret service money, for they gave an account of his own
employment of the secret service money in getting Italian
witnesses for the Queen's trial. There was likewise an account of
the discovery Stewart had made of the treachery of an office
messenger, who had for a long time carried all his despatches to
Metternich before he took them to England, and Lord Stewart says,
'I tremble when I think of the risk which my despatches have
incurred of coming before the House of Commons, as there were
letters of Lord Londonderry's written expressly "to throw dust in
the eyes of the Parliament."' These were his own expressions, and
he said, 'You will understand this and know what to say to
Metternich.' In fact, while Lord Castlereagh was obliged to
pretend to disapprove of the Continental system of the Holy
Alliance he secretly gave Metternich every assurance of his
private concurrence, and it was not till long after Mr. Canning's
accession that Metternich could be persuaded of his sincerity in
opposing their views, always fancying that he was obliged to act
a part as his predecessor had done to keep the House of Commons
quiet.

From the moment Mr. Canning came into the Cabinet he laboured to
accomplish the recognition of the South American Republics, but
all the Cabinet were against him except Lord Liverpool, and the
King would not hear of it. The King was supported in his
opposition by the Duke of Wellington and by Lieven and Esterhazy,
whom he used to have with him; and to them he inveighed against
Canning for pressing this measure. The Duke of Wellington and
those Ambassadors persuaded his Majesty that if he consented it
would produce a quarrel between him and his allies, and involve
him in inextricable difficulties. Canning, who knew all this,
wrote to Mrs. Canning in terms of great bitterness, and said if
the King did not take care he would not let him see these
Ambassadors except in his presence, and added, 'I can tell his
Majesty that his father would never have acted in such a manner.'
At length after a long contest, in the course of which Peel came
round to him, he resolved to carry the measure or resign. After a
battle in the Cabinet which lasted three hours, and from which he
came heated, exhausted, and indignant, he prepared a memorial to
the King, and Lord Liverpool another, in which they tendered
their resignations, alleging at length their reasons, and this
they submitted to the Cabinet the following day. When their
colleagues found they were in earnest they unanimously surrendered,
and agreed upon a declaration to the King that they would all
resign unless the measure was adopted. This communication was
made to his Majesty by the Duke of Wellington, who told him that
he found Canning was in earnest, and that the Government could
not go on without him, and he must give way. The King accordingly
gave way, but with a very ill grace.[18] When he saw Canning he
received him very ill, and in a letter to him signifying his
assent to the measure he said that it must be his business to
have it carried into effect in the best way it would admit of.
Canning took fire at the ungracious tone of the letter, and wrote
for answer that he feared he was not honoured with that
confidence which it was necessary that the King should have in
his Ministers, and that his Majesty had better dismiss him at
once. The King sent no answer, but a gracious message, assuring
him he had mistaken his letter, and desiring he would come to the
Cottage, when he received him very well. From that time he grew
in favour, for when the King found that none of the evils
predicted of this measure had come to pass, and how it raised the
reputation of his Minister, he liked it very well, and Canning
dexterously gave him all the praise of it, so that he soon
fancied it had originated with himself, and became equally
satisfied with himself and with Canning.

     [18] [The memorial of Mr. Canning on this subject, the
          counter-opinions of the Duke of Wellington, and the
          King's minute upon them have been published in the
          second volume of the New Series of the 'Duke of
          Wellington's Correspondence,' pp. 354, 364, and 402.]

Canning concealed nothing from Mrs. Canning, nor from Charles
Ellis. When absent from Mrs. C. he wrote everything to her in the
greatest detail. Canning's industry was such that he never left a
moment unemployed, and such was the clearness of his head that he
could address himself almost at the same time to several
different subjects with perfect precision and without the least
embarrassment. He wrote very fast, but not fast enough for his
mind, composing much quicker than he could commit his ideas to
paper. He could not bear to dictate, because nobody could write
fast enough for him; but on one occasion, when he had the gout in
his hand and could not write, he stood by the fire and dictated
at the same time a despatch on Greek affairs to George Bentinck
and one on South American politics to Howard de Walden, each
writing as fast as he could, while he turned from one to the
other without hesitation or embarrassment.


August 10th, 1827 {p.107}

The Cabinet sat yesterday morning and again at night. It is
generally believed that Lord Goderich will succeed Canning at the
Treasury, and Lord Lansdowne has no objection to serve under him.
The Tories were full of hope and joy at first, but in proportion
as they were elated at first so were they dejected yesterday,
when they found that the King sent for Lord Goderich and not for
the Duke of Wellington. He never seems to have thought of the
Duke at all. It will all be out to-day or to-morrow. The Tories
may now give the King up. They have taken leave of office, except
Peel, who will come in some day or other.

[They remained out of office five months. What a prophecy!--
_January 28th, 1828_.]

[Page Head: WELLINGTON'S OPINION OF CANNING.]

The Duke of Wellington talked of Canning the other day a great
deal at my mother's. He said his talents were astonishing, his
compositions admirable, that he possessed the art of saying
exactly what was necessary and passing over those topics on which
it was not advisable to touch, his fertility and resources
inexhaustible. He thought him the finest speaker he had ever
heard; though he prided himself extremely upon his compositions,
he would patiently endure any criticisms upon such papers as he
submitted for the consideration of the Cabinet, and would allow
them to be altered in any way that was suggested; he (the Duke)
particularly had often 'cut and hacked' his papers, and Canning
never made the least objection, but was always ready to adopt the
suggestions of his colleagues. It was not so, however, in
conversation and discussion. Any difference of opinion or dissent
from his views threw him into ungovernable rage, and on such
occasions he flew out with a violence which, the Duke said, had
often compelled him to be silent that he might not be involved in
bitter personal altercation. He said that Canning was usually
very silent in the Cabinet, seldom spoke at all, but when he did
he maintained his opinions with extraordinary tenacity. He said
that he was one of the idlest of men. This I do not believe, for
I have always heard that he saw everything and did everything
himself. Not a despatch was received that he did not read, nor
one written that he did not dictate or correct.


[Page Head: COUNCIL AT WINDSOR.]

August 20th, 1827 {p.108}

There was a Council at Windsor Castle on Friday last, which was a
very curious scene. What I saw puzzled me very much till matters
have since been explained to me.

On Tuesday morning Drummond, Lord Goderich's private secretary,
came to me at my office and told me the Council would be held on
Friday, and that Herries was to be appointed Chancellor of the
Exchequer and was going down that day with Lord Goderich to
Windsor. Accordingly when I arrived at the Castle I found Herries
in the room, and I asked him if he was to take an oath as
Chancellor of the Exchequer, because there was none in the
oath-book for Chancellor, but one for the Treasurer of the
Exchequer, and whether he was to take that. He said he did not
know, upon which I asked Wynn if he knew. He did not; when we all
agreed to wait till Lord Bexley came,[19] and enquire of him what
he had done. When Lord Bexley arrived we asked him, and he said
that Herries would only be sworn then as a Privy Councillor, and
must take the oath of Chancellor of Exchequer in the Court of
Exchequer. Shortly after we walked round the Castle, and some
conversation occurring about the elevation of the Round Tower,
which Wyattville was anxious to accomplish, Herries said to him,
'But it is my business now to ask you what you will do it for,
how much it will cost. Will you do it for £10,000?' Wyattville
said, 'You must give me £15,000,' so that I could have no doubt
that Herries was Chancellor of the Exchequer. In the meantime all
the Ministers arrived, the whole Cabinet being present except the
Chancellor and Lord Anglesey, who arrived afterwards. As soon as
Lord Goderich and Lord Lansdowne were come they retired into the
next room and had a long conference. Shortly afterwards the King
came, when Lord Goderich went into his room. He stayed some time,
when the Duke of Portland went in, then Herries. When Lord
Goderich came out he had another conference with Lord Lansdowne,
at the end of which he went again to the King. He came out, and
at the end of three-quarters of an hour went a third time, and
after him Herries a second time, and with him Lord Bexley.
Another very animated conversation took place between Lord
Lansdowne and Lord Goderich, when the latter went to the King a
fourth time, and after him Lord Lansdowne, Goderich whispering
something to him as he went in. Previous to this I remarked a
conference between Lord Lansdowne, Goderich, and Carlisle, after
which Carlisle took Tierney into the next room, evidently
communicating what had passed. Something was clearly going on,
but I could not make out what. I fancied that Lord Lansdowne
insisted upon Lord Holland's being in the Cabinet. Yesterday,
however, I discovered that it was all about Herries and his
appointment. The appointment was the King's, with whom Herries
had ingratiated himself by transacting some of his pecuniary
business, and getting odds and ends for him out of _droits_, &c.
The King then named him, and Goderich made no objection. Herries
came to Windsor, not doubting but that he was to receive the
seals, which in fact Goderich brought down with him on purpose.
Lord Lansdowne, however, declared that he would not consent to
the appointment, and hence arose all the conferences and
audiences for which I could not account at the time. The Whigs
dislike Herries' politics, and still more do they object to the
King taking upon himself to nominate the members of the
Government without consulting his Ministers. They are determined
to resist this nomination, and the consequence of Lord Lansdowne's
remonstrance was the suspension at least of the appointment. Such
is the state of affairs, and not a very agreeable state
certainly.

     [19] [Lord Bexley as Mr. Vansittart had been Chancellor of
          the Exchequer, from 1812 to 1823.]

The Whigs are satisfied of the candour, fairness, and plain
dealing of Goderich, but dissatisfied with his facility and want
of firmness. The King is grasping at power and patronage, and
wants to take advantage of the weakness of the Government and
their apparent dependence upon him to exercise all the authority
which ought to belong to the Ministers. The Whigs are not easy in
their places. They feel that they are not treated with the
consideration to which they are entitled. But they have got too
far to recede, and they evidently are alarmed lest, if they
exasperate the King, he should accept their resignation and form
a Government by a junta of the old Tories with the rest of his
Administration, by which their exclusion would be made certain
and perpetual. I find that the Duke of Portland was likewise
named by the King himself. They do not object to the Duke, on the
contrary, but they object greatly to his being so appointed. All
this I have from Tierney, who added, if the Duke had been
proposed to the King by Lord Goderich, not a member of the
Cabinet would have objected, but they don't like his being named
by the King. At the end of the Council, on Friday, Lord Anglesey
arrived, having travelled day and night, and brought with him the
Duke of Wellington's acceptance of the command of the army.
Altogether it was a day of unusual interest, and unlike the
dulness of ordinary Councils.


[Page Head: MR. HERRIES' APPOINTMENT.]

September 1st, 1827 {p.110}

Since the Council on the 17th the affair of Herries has still
been going on. It appears that when Goderich went into the King
(at the Council) to announce to him the objection that had been
raised, his Majesty was very angry, angry at having been so
committed and at being obliged to give up a nomination he liked.
Herries naturally felt himself very ill treated and nettled by
the attacks upon him in the newspapers. He has ever since
insisted upon being admitted to the Cabinet as the only thing
which could afford due reparation to his honour, and prove that
he had not been rejected for the reasons which had been assigned.
This the Ministers opposed, and it was at length determined that
this matter should rest till Huskisson's return. Huskisson agreed
with his colleagues about Herries, went to the King, and spoke to
him openly and firmly on the subject. The King consented that
another arrangement should be made; the one proposed was, that
Sturges Bourne should be Chancellor of the Exchequer, and Herries
take the Woods and Forests without a seat in the Cabinet.
Herries, who had constantly refused to accede to any arrangement
by which he was to be excluded from the Cabinet, said he would
consider of it; but in the meantime Sturges took fright, and
refused to take the Exchequer. In vain Huskisson offered to take
all the trouble on himself, and they all tried to persuade
Sturges. He would not do it, and so this arrangement fell to the
ground. They went again to the King yesterday to report progress
and state to him what had occurred. When they came back
(Goderich, Huskisson, Sturges, Herries, and the Chancellor)
Goderich wrote a long letter to Lord Lansdowne, and he is to go
to the King again this evening.

I had a long conversation with Tierney yesterday, and I find that
the Whig Ministers are sick to death of their situation and
anxious to resign. They think they are not treated with the
consideration which is due to them whether as individuals or as
the representatives of a great party who are supporting the
Government. Then they think Goderich has behaved so ill in this
affair that they can have no confidence in him. They believe so
much in the integrity of his character that they do not suspect
him of any duplicity in what has passed, but his conduct has been
marked by such deplorable weakness as shows how unfit he is for
the situation he occupies. He has acted equally ill to the King,
to his colleagues, and to Herries himself. The history of the
transaction is this:--While Goderich was Chancellor of the
Exchequer Herries was the man upon whose assistance he relied to
carry on the business of his office, and who in fact did it all
for him. As soon as he was at the head of the Treasury he
felt that Herries would be equally necessary to him, and he
accordingly pressed him to take the office of Chancellor of the
Exchequer, which Herries declined. After repeated solicitations,
Herries told him that he had no objection to belong to his
Government, and that he would take the office of Vice-President
of the Board of Trade, and do all his Treasury business for him
(this is the account of Herries' friends, which seems to me
somewhat doubtful), though he did not wish to be in the Cabinet.
At last, however, Goderich prevailed on Herries to let him
propose him to the King, which was done. The appointment was
particularly agreeable to the King, who wrote a letter with his
own hand to Herries, desiring him to take the place. When
Goderich returned to town, with this letter in his pocket, he
went (before he delivered it) to the Cabinet, and then mentioning
Herries, without saying what had passed, he found that the
Cabinet would not approve of the appointment, on which he went to
Herries, and said that he found that it would not do, and begged
him to allow his appointment to be cancelled. Herries told him
that he had never desired it, and was quite ready to give it up.
As soon as Herries had agreed to give it up Goderich pulls out of
his pocket the King's letter, and says, 'By-the-by, here is a
letter which I ought to have given you before.' When Herries had
read this letter he said, 'This puts me quite in another
situation, and though I am still ready to give up being
Chancellor of the Exchequer, I must have my conduct explained to
the King, and you must take me down to Windsor to-morrow for that
purpose.' This Goderich refused to do, when Herries said he
should go down by himself. He did so, and then passed all which I
have described above in the account of the Council on the 19th. I
ought to have mentioned, as not the least curious circumstance of
the Council, that in the middle of it the King sent for Sir
William Knighton, who was closeted with him for an hour. I see
this account is not altogether the same as the preceding, a proof
of the inaccuracy of anecdotes and historical facts whenever they
differ. This is the true one.

Henry de Ros told me that he saw George Dawson, Peel's
brother-in-law, at Brighton, who told him that he believed there
was nobody the King was more exasperated against than Peel, and
for this reason:--When the late Government (Canning's) was
forming, Peel went to the King, and in reply to his desire that
he should form a part of it told him he could not continue in any
Government the head of which was a supporter of Catholic
Emancipation. The King proposed to him to remain, with a secret
pledge and promise from him that the question should not be
carried. This of course Peel refused, and the King, who construed
his rejection of the disgraceful proposal as conveying a doubt of
his word, dismissed him with much resentment.


[Page Head: LORD LANSDOWNE AND THE KING.]

September 15th, 1827

Taking up the account from where I left off, Goderich went to the
King, and it was settled Herries was to be Chancellor of the
Exchequer. He returned and wrote to Lord Lansdowne entreating him
to acquiesce. Lord Lansdowne went to the King, and the result of
his interview was that he retained office together with his
friends. He wrote a letter to one of them, which he intended
might be communicated to others, giving an account of his conduct
and motives. I saw this letter. He said the King received him
very well and spared no entreaties to him to keep office. The
King said that he was most anxious the present Government should
continue on every account, but more particularly on account of
what was now passing on the Continent; that Lord Lansdowne's
holding office was indispensable for this object, and he asked
him in his own name and for the sake of the country not to
resign; that what had occurred had arisen out of a series of
blunders which, 'let me say,' he added, 'were neither yours nor
mine.' Lord Lansdowne said it was put to him in such a way that
he could not do otherwise; that he had insisted with Goderich
that Stanley and Mackintosh[20] should be employed. This was the
pith of his letter. I have been with Huskisson for a week in the
country; he is in good health and excellent spirits. Capo
d'Istria was there, going to Greece. Huskisson told me he wanted
money. He owned to me that he considered Greece as a great
humbug. I discovered from what he said that they only interfered
that they might keep the Russians quiet and prevent a war between
Russia and Turkey. The Sultan had announced his intention of
sending any Minister to the Seven Towers who should communicate
the treaty to him.[21] Everything is now quiet for the moment,
and will probably continue so till the meeting of Parliament.

     [20] [Mr Stanley, afterwards Earl of Derby, had taken office
          under Mr. Canning, and was Under-Secretary of State for
          the Colonies from April 1827 till January 1828. Lord
          Lansdowne must have recommended him for a higher
          office.]

     [21] [The Treaty of London for the Settlement of the Affairs
          of Greece was signed by England, France, and Russia on
          the 7th of July, 1827. It was of course received with
          indignation by the Porte, and led three months
          afterwards to the battle of Navarino, which was fought
          on the 20th of October.]


December 13th, 1827 {p.114}

Three months have passed since the above was written. I went to
Doncaster and Chatsworth, then to Newmarket, and returned to town
the middle of last month. The battle of Navarino has been fought,
and after three weeks' expectation we know very little about the
matter. The strong part of the Cabinet, with Huskisson at the
head, are for letting things take their course, and for suffering
Russia to go to war with Turkey, and leaving it to her to enforce
the articles of the Treaty of London. The plan is that Russia
should occupy Moldavia and Wallachia; that the terms should then
be offered to the Sultan, and that on his yielding the Greek
independence these provinces should be evacuated by the Russians;
this is what they propose that our mediation shall effect. In the
meantime the Ministers are uneasy about the approaching meeting
of Parliament. They anticipate a violent opposition in the House
of Lords; they are by no means sure of a majority in that House,
and there is not one among them who has spirit and character
enough to face it. Lord Dudley is terrified to the greatest
degree at the notion of being attacked by Lord Grey. Then, though
they are not disunited, they derive no strength from mutual
co-operation and support, and the tone which the King has assumed,
and the peremptory manner in which he has claimed the disposal of
every sort of patronage, is both a proof of the weakness of
Government, a source of discord among themselves, and the cause
of distrust mixed with contempt on the part of many of their
friends. The King and the Duke of Clarence made the promotions
and dispensed the honours after the battle of Navarino without
consulting the Ministers. The King gave Sumner the Bishopric of
Winchester in the same way,[22] and there is a very general
opinion that the Cabinet is weak, that they do not act together
with cordiality, that they have neither energy nor authority, and
are not likely to keep their places. It has been currently
reported that they would willingly have censured Codrington, and
have thrown the responsibility of the battle from their own
shoulders upon his, if they had dared, but that they were
prevented by the precipitate approbation expressed by the King.
These things are greatly exaggerated, but are not without
foundation.

     [22] [_Vide supra_, p. 45, when Lord Liverpool caused the
          nomination of Mr. Sumner to a canonry of Windsor to be
          cancelled, because he had not been consulted. The King
          took the earliest opportunity of appointing him to the
          See of Llandaff, whence he was soon afterwards
          translated to that of Winchester. He died in 1874.]


[Page Head: LORD GODERICH'S RESIGNATION.]

December 15th, 1827

The Ministry is at an end. Goderich resigned either by letter to
the King yesterday or at the Council on Thursday. They have been
going on ill together for some time. Goderich has no energy, and
his colleagues are disgusted at his inefficiency, and at the
assumption by the King of all power in disposing of patronage.
Huskisson is away, and wishes to be out. They are embarrassed
with the Greek question, and have to meet Parliament with an
immense deficiency in the revenue. This state of things and
mutual irritation and dissatisfaction have at length produced
Goderich's resignation. Yesterday the Chancellor, Dudley, and
Huskisson were backwards and forwards to the King all day, and
when he went to Windsor at half-past five they were still in the
Palace, and he left them there in consultation. He is gone, but
Knighton remains behind to negotiate and communicate. In the
meantime I find that the King is quite mad upon the Catholic
question, and that his real desire is to get rid of the Whigs,
take back the Duke of Wellington, and make an anti-Catholic
Government. This seems to be quite impossible in the present
state of affairs, but a few days will probably produce some
decisive change.


                              1828.


January 2nd, 1828 {p.116}

As soon as Lord Goderich had resigned they sent to Lord Harrowby
and offered him the Premiership. He came to town directly, and
went to the King, but refused the place. His refusal was
immediately known, and of course there were a variety of
conjectures and opinions afloat as to the man who would be
chosen. A few days, however, put an end to these, for it was
announced, to the astonishment of everybody, that Goderich had
returned to town, and that he would not resign. Here ended this
matter, which made a great noise for a few days; but the effects
of what passed are yet to be seen when Parliament meets. The
injury which Goderich's conduct has done to the Government is
incalculable, for it has brought them into such low estimation
that it is the general opinion they will not be able to retain
their places, and there are a great variety of persons in both
Houses of Parliament who are disposed to withdraw from them the
support which they did give to Canning's Government, and which
they were previously inclined to give to this. As matters now
stand they do not themselves know upon whom they can count, nor
who are their friends and who their foes. They are, however, to
have Lord Holland in the Cabinet, to help them on in the House of
Lords, but it is very doubtful whether his appointment will not
lead to the resignation of some of the Tory members of the
Government and the secession of some of its Tory supporters.
Nothing can exceed the alarm which they feel at the prospect of
the approaching contest in Parliament, and thus, full of fears
and weakness, neither inspiring nor feeling confidence, there
seems a bad chance of their getting through the session.

I have heard no more of the King and of his intentions, except
that he said he did not see why he was to be the only gentleman
in his dominions who was not to eat his Christmas dinner in
quiet, and he was determined he would. Don Miguel has been with
him at the Cottage these two days. He has been received with
great magnificence; they say he behaves well enough, but is very
shy. He went out stag-hunting in red coat and full hunting
costume, and rode over the fences like anybody else.

M'Gregor told me the other day that not one of the physicians and
surgeons who attended the Duke of York through his long and
painful illness had ever received the smallest remuneration,
although their names and services had been laid before the King.
He told me in addition that during sixteen years that he attended
the Duke and his whole family he never received one guinea by way
of fee or any payment whatever.

[Page Head: MR. BROUGHAM AT PANSHANGER.]

About three weeks ago I passed a few days at Panshanger, where I
met Brougham; he came from Saturday till Monday morning, and from
the hour of his arrival to that of his departure he never ceased
talking. The party was agreeable enough--Luttrell, Rogers, &c.--
but it was comical to see how the latter was provoked at
Brougham's engrossing all the talk, though he could not help
listening with pleasure. Brougham is certainly one of the most
remarkable men I ever met; to say nothing of what he is in the
world, his almost childish gaiety and animal spirits, his humour
mixed with sarcasm, but not ill-natured, his wonderful information,
and the facility with which he handles every subject, from the
most grave and severe to the most trifling, displaying a mind
full of varied and extensive information and a memory which has
suffered nothing to escape it, I never saw any man whose
conversation impressed me with such an idea of his superiority
over all others. As Rogers said the morning of his departure,
'this morning Solon, Lycurgus, Demosthenes, Archimedes, Sir Isaac
Newton, Lord Chesterfield, and a great many more went away in one
post chaise.' He told us a great many details relating to the
Queen's trial, and amongst other things (which I do not believe)
his conviction that the Queen had never had any intrigue with
Bergami. He told us the whole story of his finding out the
departure of Rastelli, which happened from a friend of his
accidentally seeing Rastelli in the street, recognising him, and
telling Brougham.[23] Brougham told none of his colleagues, and
at first did not believe the story, but by putting artful
questions, and watching their effect, he found it was so, and
then out he came with it. There was a grand discussion whether
they should not throw up their briefs and stop there, and he was
all for it, but was overruled and gave way. The person who was
most anxious they should go on was Lord Grey, for he had got a
notion that they could not any of them speak to evidence, and he
wanted to make such a speech, which he fancied he could do very
well. Brougham said that as leading counsel for the Queen he
always reserved to himself the power of acting as he thought fit,
whatever the opinions of his colleagues might be, though they
always consulted together and gave their sentiments upon every
debated point _seriatim_. He and Denman invariably thought alike.
The Queen never could bear him, and was seldom civil to him. When
she had to answer the address of the House of Commons she
appealed to her counsel for their advice, which they declined to
give, and she was furious, for she wanted to make them advise her
to accept the propositions of the House, which would have been
very unpopular, and then throw the odium of doing so on them.[24]
He spoke very highly of Alderman Wood, who behaved very well,
never annoyed or interfered with them, and seems to have been
altogether a _brave homme_.

     [23] [For the use made by Mr. Brougham of the accidental
          departure of Rastelli during the Queen's trial _vide
          supra_, p. 37, October 15, 1820.]

     [24] [This was the address moved by Mr. Wilberforce on the
          22nd of June, 1820 (_vide supra_, p. 30, June 23rd,
          1820). Lord Brougham states in his 'Memoirs' that the
          Queen resolved to reject the advice of Parliament
          without consulting her lawyers. In one of Lord
          Brougham's letters written at the time he calls Wood
          'the ass and alderman called _Thistle_-wood,' and
          attributed to him the intrigue which brought the Queen
          to England.]

If it had been possible to recollect all that Brougham said on
this and a hundred other subjects, it would be well worth writing
down, but such talk is much too evanescent, and I remember no
more.

[Page Head: CHARACTER OF MR. BROUGHAM.]

After all Brougham is only a living and very remarkable instance
of the inefficacy of the most splendid talents, unless they are
accompanied with other qualities, which scarcely admit of
definition, but which must serve the same purpose that ballast
does for a ship. Brougham has prospered to a certain degree; he
has a great reputation and he makes a considerable income at the
bar; but as an advocate he is left behind by men of far inferior
capacity, whose names are hardly known beyond the precincts of
their courts or the boundaries of their circuits. As a statesman
he is not considered eligible for the highest offices, and
however he may be admired or feared as an orator or debater, he
neither commands respect by his character nor inspires confidence
by his genius, and in this contrast between his pretensions and
his situation more humble abilities may find room for consolation
and cease to contemplate with envy his immense superiority. To
suppose that his ambition can be satisfied in the possession of
natural and acquired powers far greater than the majority of
mankind would be contrary to all experience. Such men consider
their acquirements as means for the attainment of greater ends,
and the disappointments which they frequently meet with in the
pursuit of their objects of ambition more than counteract all the
feelings of pride and satisfaction which conscious superiority is
calculated to inspire. The life of a politician is probably one
of deep mortification, for the race is not always to the swift
nor the battle to the strong, and few things can be more galling
than to see men far inferior to ourselves enabled by fortune and
circumstances to attain what we toil after in vain, and to learn
from our own experience how many things there are in this life of
greater practical utility than splendid abilities and unwearied
industry.


London, January 19th, 1828 {p.120}

The Ministry is at last settled, and now for its history. Early
in last week Goderich went down to the King and told him there
was such a quarrel in the Cabinet between Huskisson and Herries
about the Finance Committee that both could not remain, and that
Huskisson would resign if he had not his own way. The King was
furious at this new disturbance, and said he could not understand
it; if Huskisson resigned, the Government was at an end. 'Go,' he
ended, 'and send the Chancellor to me.' The Chancellor [Lord
Lyndhurst] went, and was desired to bring the Duke of Wellington.
The Government was dissolved and the King desired the Duke to
form a new one. All this was immediately known, and first it was
asked, 'What is the quarrel between Huskisson and Herries which
broke up the old Cabinet?' The friends of each put about a story,
one of which appeared in the 'Times,' the other in the 'Morning
Chronicle.' The question was Lord Althorp's appointment as
chairman of the Finance Committee. Huskisson's story is this:--In
November Tierney went to Goderich and proposed Althorp as a good
man to be in the chair of that Committee. Goderich assented, and
said, 'But you had better speak to Huskisson about it, as it is a
House of Commons matter.' He did so, and Huskisson approved of
it. A few days after Tierney called on Huskisson and found
Herries with him, when they discussed the matter generally, as
well as the particular appointment of Althorp, and Herries made
no objection, and, as they thought, agreed with them; but shortly
after Herries went to Goderich, complained that this matter had
been settled without his knowledge and concurrence, that it was a
slight put upon him, and said he would not agree to Althorp's
nomination, nor stay in office if it were persisted in.

[Page Head: HOSTILITY OF HERRIES.]

This is one story, told me by Sefton, who had it (I am sure) from
Brougham, and _verbatim_ the same by Robarts, who had it (he told
me himself) from Tierney. Herries' story only differs in this: it
omits the interview between the three Ministers, and declares the
matter was never mentioned to him at all till they had decided on
it, when it was shown him as a plan which was not to be
discussed, but which he was at once to assent to. It appears
difficult to know which to believe, and at first my impression
was that they had probably not treated Herries with as much
consideration as he was entitled to as Finance Minister, and that
he had been prone to take offence and touchy from old recollections,
which were probably not effaced. But a circumstance I heard
afterwards convinced me that Herries has been all along full of
ill-will towards his colleagues, and not a little desirous of
breaking up the Ministry. When he found, too, with what
difficulties they would have to contend in Parliament and the
weakness of Goderich, he probably thought they would never be
able to go on, and was not sorry to find an opportunity of
accelerating their dissolution. The circumstance is this:--In the
old business of his appointment to the Chancellorship of the
Exchequer, when he thought he was _not_ to be appointed, he wrote
to Arbuthnot telling him how ill he had been treated, and
promising to send him all the correspondence on the subject.
Subsequently he _was_ appointed, when he wrote again to A.,
saying that as it was settled and he was appointed, he did not
think it would be right to send him the correspondence, which he
was sure he would understand; that there he was, and he should do
his best to act cordially with his new colleagues; but he
finished, 'I shall hail the day which brings all of you back
again.' Such an expression to a man who was the bitterest enemy
of the Government of which he was a member did not evince much
cordiality towards his colleagues.

[Page Head: MR. HUSKISSON'S POSITION.]

The first thing to be done by the Duke was to negotiate with
Huskisson. He sent forthwith for his own friends, Peel, Lord
Bathurst, and Melville, and for many days the great question was
whether Huskisson would join or not, the Whigs of course most
anxious he should refuse, the new Government ready to make great
concessions to tempt him to join them. He has acceded, however,
but much to the disgust of many of his friends, some of whom
think he has behaved shabbily in abandoning the Whigs, who
supported him, and who had supported Canning at his utmost need.
Some think he was pledged never to act with the men who they
consider to have behaved so ill to Canning, and some think he has
compromised his dignity and independence by not insisting on
higher terms, particularly the lead in the House of Commons. At
present the exact terms of his bargain are not known, and without
being acquainted with all that has passed _de part et d'autre_ it
is impossible to form a judgment as to the wisdom or the fairness
of his conduct. Those who think he would have acted a wiser part
and have made himself of greater importance by heading a third
party in the House of Commons and keeping aloof, judge too
hastily. He would have been followed by all those who call
themselves Canning's personal friends, and probably by a
considerable body of neutrals, who would not have been disposed
to support a Tory Government, and still less to join a Whig
Opposition. But however weak the Ministry (without Huskisson)
might have appeared at first sight in the House of Commons, it
would very possibly have proved stronger than was imagined.
Strength and weakness are relative terms, and it remained to be
seen what sort of power would have been brought against it, and
to what attacks the Government would have exposed itself. The old
Tory Ministry, which was voted out for incapacity by the House of
Commons, was the strongest and longest that we have seen for many
years, though opposed by all the talent and power of an
Opposition more formidable than this can be. To be sure it must
always be remembered that they floated through their difficulties
on the tide of the Duke of Wellington's victories. Of all the
party who would have ranged themselves under Huskisson, only
Canning's friends, a select few, would have considered themselves
bound to him, and the rest, if they found the Government strong
and likely to last, would probably have dropped off and gradually
joined it. In that case Huskisson would never have been able to
treat as an independent power, and though they might have been
glad to take him into the Administration, he could not have made
his own terms. I do not think he ever could have looked to
overturning the Tory Government and coming in with the whole body
of the Whigs, for he has no natural partiality (any more than
Canning had) for that party, and he is fully aware how odious
they are to the King and how unpopular in the country, which is
always more inclined to the Tories than to them. If the Tories
have agreed to those measures (except the Catholic question, for
that is to remain on its old footing) which he deems necessary,
and of which he is the author--that is, of Free Trade, &c.--he
would probably rather act with them than with the Whigs; and in
joining Government he is liable to no reproach but that of having
shaken off his Whig colleagues too easily. But it remains to be
proved whether they could have gone on, and at all events Lords
Lansdowne and Carlisle might have remained in office if they
pleased, though certainly it was not probable that they would do
so. The part of the transaction which will appear extraordinary
is, that the Government having been broken up by a quarrel
between Huskisson and Herries, the opposite party come in and
both these Ministers remain with them. In private life the
transaction would look very like a fraud, and be open to great
suspicion. It would appear as if they had got up a sham quarrel
in order to get out their colleagues and stay in themselves with
the Tories. This, however, I believe not to have been the case,
at least as far as Huskisson is concerned, though perhaps Herries
may not be altogether so clear.




                           CHAPTER IV.

The Duke of Wellington's Administration--Huskisson's Speech--
  Irritation of Mr. Canning's Friends--Tom Duncombe's Maiden
  Speech--Mr. Huskisson resigns and the Canningites quit the
  Government--Princess Lieven Hostile to the Duke--The Catholic
  Question--Jockey Club Dinner at St. James's--Lord Lyndhurst--
  Sir Robert Adair--Fox and Burke--Fox and Pitt--The Lord High
  Admiral dismissed by the King--Dawson's Speech on Catholic
  Emancipation--The King's Health--His Pages--State of Ireland--
  Marquis of Anglesey--O'Connell--His Influence in Ireland--Lord
  Belmore Governor of Jamaica--The Duke's Letter to Dr. Curtis--
  Recall of Lord Anglesey from Ireland--Causes of this Event--
  Excitement of the King on the Catholic Question--His Aversion
  to Sir William Knighton--Character of George IV.--Denman's Silk
  Gown--Pension to Lady Westmeath--Duke of Wellington on Russia--
  The Reis-Effendi--Duke of Northumberland goes to Ireland--Privy
  Council Register--State Paper Office--The Gunpowder Plot--
  Catholic Emancipation--Navarino.


[Page Head: IRRITATION OF THE WHIGS.]

January 28th, 1828 {p.124}

Until the Duke of Wellington's commission as First Lord of the
Treasury appeared many people doubted that he would take the
office.[1] The Ordnance was offered to Lord Rosslyn, who refused
it, and then given to Lord Beresford, but without a seat in the
Cabinet (as Lord Bathurst told me) by his own particular desire.
Some days have now elapsed, and time has been afforded for the
expression of popular feeling and opinion on the late changes.
Lady Canning and many of Canning's friends are very much
dissatisfied with Huskisson, and think he deserted his principles
and outraged the memory of Canning. Lady C. particularly is much
hurt at what has passed. She has not seen Huskisson, but he is
aware of her sentiments, though he says she has so high an
opinion of him that she is sure he is acting for what he believes
to be the best. The majority of Canning's friends have adhered to
the Government. The great body of the Whigs who belonged to or
supported the late Government are indignant and violent,
particularly with Huskisson, who they think has betrayed them. An
interview has taken place between Huskisson and Lord Lansdowne,
in which the former explained his conduct, and (as far as I can
learn) the latter said but little, neither condemning nor
approving. But the great body of the party are resolved to oppose
the new Government in every way, though without attempting to
form a party, which they do not think feasible in their present
condition. They intend a desultory and harassing warfare,
particularly attacking Huskisson upon Liberal measures, to which
he stands pledged, but which they think he will now be prevented
by his colleagues from carrying into effect. The seceding Whigs
are triumphant, because they assert that what has happened is a
full justification of their conduct. They forget, however, that
all this is mainly attributable to them and to Canning's death,
which occurred in the interim. On the other hand the old Tories
are not altogether satisfied, and, though rejoiced at the
restoration of the party, cannot bear to see Huskisson and his
friends members of the Government from abhorrence of Canning and
all Liberal principles. However, the principal men have sent in
their adhesions in very civil letters to the Duke.

      [1] [The Duke of Wellington's Administration was at first
          constituted as follows:--
            Duke of Wellington, First Lord of the Treasury.
            Lord Lyndhurst, Lord Chancellor.
            Earl Bathurst, Lord President of the Council.
            Earl of Ellenborough, Lord Privy Seal.
            Mr. Peel, Home Secretary.
            Lord Dudley, Foreign Secretary.
            Mr. Huskisson, Colonial Secretary.
            Earl of Aberdeen, Duchy of Lancaster.
            Mr. Goulburn, Chancellor of the Exchequer.
            Mr. Charles Grant, President of the Board of Trade.
            Mr. Herries, Master of the Mint.
            Viscount Melville, President of the India Board.
            Lord Dudley, Mr. Huskisson, Mr. Grant, and Lord
               Palmerston (Secretary at War, not in the Cabinet)
               were the four Canningite members who resigned in
               May following. They were replaced by Lord
               Aberdeen, Sir George Murray, Mr. Vesey Fitzgerald,
               and Sir Henry Hardinge respectively.]

All the Ministers (old and new) were at Windsor the other day;
but it was contrived that they should not meet, the _ins_ being
in one room and Lansdowne and Carlisle in another, and it was
afterwards discovered that in a third room by himself was
Goderich. This Lord Sefton told me, and he had it from Lord
Lansdowne, who had it from the King and confirmed by Lord
Conyngham. His Majesty was remarkably civil to Lords Lansdowne
and Carlisle. The King had a scene with the Duke of Devonshire,
whom he could not persuade to stay in his place, though he tried
hard. Scarlett has resigned the Attorney-Generalship, but not
very willingly. He wrote to Milton and asked his advice. Milton
advised him to resign, and so he did. One thing that has angered
the Tories is the Duke's not having consulted Lord Eldon, nor
offered him any place; and it seems he is extremely mortified,
for though he did not want the seals again, he would have been
very glad to take office as President of the Council.


[Page Head: IRRITATION OF THE WHIGS.]

February 25th, 1828 {p.126}

There is one advantage in writing at intervals of some time
instead of keeping a regular diary; I can take a more bird's-eye
view of events, and avoid falling into many errors, which it
would be afterwards necessary to correct. I went to Newmarket and
stayed there three weeks for my health. While I was there
Huskisson made his speech at Liverpool.[2] The Tories were
furious, and in the House of Lords the Duke of Wellington
contradicted it, or rather said he did not believe it was
faithfully reported, for all that he was reported to have said
about _the guarantee_ was untrue. I returned to town in time for
the House of Commons, and found the greatest excitement,
curiosity, and violence generally prevailing. As to Huskisson, he
had offended the Tories, the Whigs, and Lady Canning, and
everybody condemned him. Parties were split to pieces, there was
no Opposition, and no man could tell what were the politics of
his neighbour, scarcely what his own. Lady Canning was in a state
of great rage and resentment, and had inspired George Bentinck
with the same sentiments. Clanricarde had been sent down by her
to the House of Lords furnished with extracts of Canning's
letters to throw in the teeth of his old friends and his old
enemies, and she threatened fresh disclosures and fresh documents
which were to confound all whom she deemed worthy of her
indignation. A very angry colloquy took place at a dinner at
Warrender's between Lord Seaford and George Bentinck, in which
the latter violently attacked Mr. Canning's friends for joining
the present Government, and quoted Huskisson's declaration that
he would never act with the men who had abandoned him. Lord
Seaford grew angry, and asked George what he knew of that
declaration and what his authority was for quoting it. To which
George replied that he had it from himself--from Lord Seaford at
Paris. This confounded the noble Lord, and altogether there was a
pretty violent altercation, which greatly annoyed both him and
Howard, who was present, and was regretted by all their common
friends. Two days after this came on the debate in the House of
Commons and the explanations of Huskisson and Herries. Their
speeches were both satisfactory enough till Tierney spoke, who
entirely knocked over their cases, or at least that of Herries,
for against Huskisson he proved nothing, except that he might
perhaps have been more communicative, though I think this
reproach applies more to Lord Goderich than to him. The
impression left with regard to Herries was as unfavourable as
possible.

      [2] [The speech made by Mr. Huskisson on his re-election at
          Liverpool on the 5th of February, 1828, is printed in
          vol. iii. of his 'Collected Speeches,' p. 673. It
          contains a full account of these transactions. The
          passage which gave so much offence to the Tories was
          that 'if the Government was such as satisfied the view
          I took of the interests of the country, and provided
          such arrangements were made in its construction _as
          afforded a guarantee_ that the principle I approved
          should not be departed from, I was not precluded from
          joining it;' and again, 'The presence in office of such
          men as Lord Dudley, Lord Palmerston, Mr. Grant, and Mr.
          Lamb is the most satisfactory of all guarantees that
          the general principles of our foreign and commercial
          system would remain unchanged, and that Ireland would
          be governed with the strictest impartiality in respect
          to the Catholic question.'
            These declarations of Mr. Huskisson had a material
          effect on the occurrences which not long afterwards
          took place.]

[Page Head: TOM DUNCOMBE'S MAIDEN SPEECH.]

The great event of the night was Duncombe's[3] speech, which was
delivered with perfect self-possession and composure, but in so
ridiculous a manner that everybody laughed at him, although they
were amused with his impudence and at the style and objects of
his attack. However, the next day it was discovered that he
had performed a great exploit; he was loudly applauded and
congratulated on all sides, and made into the hero of the day.
His fame was infinitely increased on a subsequent night, when
Herries again came before the House and when Tommy fired another
shot at him. The newspapers were full of his praises. The Whigs
called at his door and eagerly sought his acquaintance. Those who
love fun and personality cheered him on with loud applause, and
he now fancies himself the greatest man going, and is ready to
get up and abuse anybody on the Treasury bench. To me, who knew
all the secret strings that moved this puppet, nothing can be
more amusing.

      [3] [Thomas Slingsby Duncombe, nephew of the first Lord
          Feversham distinguished for his Radical opinions, M.P.
          for Finsbury after the Reform Bill. He sat at this time
          for Hertford; and the incident related in the text
          appears to have been his _début_ in political life.]

The history of Tom Duncombe and his speech is instructive as well
as amusing, for it is a curious proof of the facility with which
the world may be deceived, and of the prodigious effect which may
be produced by the smallest means, if they are aided by some
fortuitous circumstances and happily applied. Tommy came to Henry
de Ros and told him that his constituents at Hertford were very
anxious he should make a speech, but that he did not know what to
say, and begged Henry to supply him with the necessary materials.
He advised him to strike out something new, and having received
his assurance that he should be able to recollect anything that
he learned by heart, and that he was not afraid of his courage
failing, Henry composed for him the speech which Duncombe
delivered. But knowing the slender capacity of his man, he was
not satisfied with placing the speech in his hands, but adopted
every precaution which his ingenuity suggested to avert the
danger of his breaking down. He made him learn the speech by
heart, and then made him think it over again and put it into
language of his own, justly fearing that if he should forget any
of the more polished periods of the original it would appear
sadly botched by his own interpolations. He then instructed him
largely as to how and when he was to bring it in, supplying him
with various commonplace phrases to be used as connecting links,
and by the help of which he might be enabled to fasten upon some
of the preceding speeches. I saw Henry de Ros the day before the
debate, when he told me what he was doing, and asked me to
suggest anything that occurred upon the subject, and at the same
time repeated to me the speech with which he had armed his hero.
I hinted my apprehensions that he would fail in the delivery, but
though he was not without some alarm, he expressed (as it
afterwards appeared a well-grounded) confidence in Duncombe's
extraordinary nerve and intrepidity.

His speech on the second night was got up precisely in the same
manner, and although it appeared to arise out of the debate and
of those which preceded it, the matter had been all crammed into
him by his invisible Mentor. The amusement to him and to me
(especially at the honours that have been thickly poured upon him
and the noise which he has made in the world) is indescribably
pungent.

Thus Duncombe and his speech have made what is called a great
sensation, and he has the reputation (no matter whether justly or
not) of having thrown the enemy's camp into greater confusion by
the boldness of his language than anybody has ever done, because
nobody has ever before dared to mention those whom he dragged
forward. To the ignorant majority of the world he appears a man
of great promise, of boldness, quickness, and decision, and the
uproar that is made about him cannot fail to impress others as
well as himself with a high notion of his consequence.

Knighton is gone abroad, I have very little doubt, in consequence
of what passed, and as nobody enquires very minutely into the
real causes of things where they get apparent ones with ease, it
is said and believed at once that Duncombe is the man who has
driven him out, and that he has given the first blow to that
secret influence which has only been obscurely hinted at before
and never openly attacked. These are great and important matters,
far exceeding any consequences which the authors of the speech
anticipated from its delivery at the time. And what are the
agents who have produced such an effect? A man of ruined fortune
and doubtful character, whose life has been spent on the
race-course, at the gaming-table, and in the green-room, of
limited capacity, exceedingly ignorant, and without any stock
but his impudence to trade on, only speaking to serve an
electioneering purpose, and crammed by another man with every
thought and every word that he uttered.


[Page Head: DISPUTES IN THE CABINET.]

June 12th, 1828 {p.130}

We have now got a Tory Government, and all that remained of
Canning's party are gone.[4] The case of the Duke of Wellington
and Huskisson is before the world, but nobody judges fairly.
Motives are attributed to both parties which had no existence,
and the truth is hardly ever told at first, though it generally
oozes out by degrees. After the explanations in February the
Government went on to all appearance very well, but there lurked
under this semblance of harmony some seeds of jealousy and
distrust, not I believe so much in the mind of the Duke as in
those of his Tory colleagues, and the Canningites on their side
certainly felt no cordiality even towards the Duke himself. They
said that he never could nor would understand anything; that he
said a thing one day and forgot it the next, and instead of that
clearness of intellect for which he had credit, nothing could be
more puzzled and confused than he was; that nothing could absolve
him from the suspicion of duplicity and insincerity but the
conviction that his ambiguous conduct on various occasions arose
from a confusion of ideas. On the other hand, Lord Bathurst told
my father that he thought they (Huskisson and his friends) were
too much disposed to act together as a party in the Cabinet; and
it is clear that the Duke thought so too, and that this feeling
and the resentment it engendered in his mind are the real reasons
of his conduct on the late occasion.

      [4] [Bills had been brought into Parliament for the
          disfranchisement of the boroughs of Penryn and East
          Retford, and the transfer of those seats to Manchester
          and Birmingham. On the East Retford case, which came
          before the House of Commons on the 19th of May, Mr.
          Huskisson felt bound in honour to support the measure,
          and voted against his colleagues. On his return home
          after the debate he wrote a hasty letter to the Duke of
          Wellington, in which he said that he 'owed it to the
          Duke and to Mr. Peel to lose no time in affording them
          an opportunity of placing his office in other hands.'
          The Duke regarding this as a formal act of resignation,
          laid it before the King and filled up the appointment.
          The correspondence is published in the Duke of
          Wellington's 'Correspondence,' New Series, vol. iv.
          p. 449. The resignation of Lord Palmerston, Charles
          Grant, and Lord Dudley followed. The details of this
          transaction are sufficiently alluded to in the text.]

There had been a dispute in the Cabinet about the Corn Bill,
which occasioned the discussion of it to be put off for a few
days at the time, and upon that occasion Grant resigned his
office. The matter was made up and he stayed. But when upon
the East Retford affair Huskisson resigned, and in such an
extraordinary manner, the Duke felt that there was a disposition
to embarrass him by these perpetual tenders of resignation, which
he believed they thought he would not venture to accept. Upon
receiving Huskisson's letter he went to Lord Bathurst and
consulted him, and Lord Bathurst advised him to take him at his
word. Everybody looks for some cause which does not appear for
important events, and people with difficulty admit of very simple
solutions and very trifling causes, though such are not
unfrequently the real ones. I believe that Huskisson had no
intention of embarrassing the Duke and none of resigning; but for
a cool and sensible man his conduct is most extraordinary, for he
acted with the precipitation of a schoolboy and showed a complete
want of all those qualities of prudence and calm deliberation for
which he has the greatest credit. But though this breach might
have been avoided, from the sentiments which have been expressed
by both parties, it is evident other differences would have
arisen which must have dissolved the Government before long.
After putting aside the violent opinions on both sides, the
conclusion is that Huskisson acted very hastily and imprudently,
and that his letter (say what he will) was a complete resignation,
and that the Duke had a right so to consider it; that in the
Duke's conduct there appeared a want of courtesy and an anxiety
to get rid of him which it would have been more fair to avow and
defend than to deny; that on both sides there was a mixture of
obstinacy and angry feeling, and a disposition to treat the
question rather as a personal matter than one in which the public
interests were deeply concerned. But the charge which is made on
one side that Huskisson wanted to embarrass the Duke's Government
and enhance his own importance, and that on the other of the
Duke's insincerity, are both unfounded.

Some circumstances, however, contributed to place the Duke's
conduct in an unfavourable point of view. These were the
extravagant and unconcealed joy of the High Tories and of his
immediate friends, and his attending at the same time the Pitt
dinner and sitting there while Lord Eldon gave his famous 'one
cheer more' for Protestant ascendency. That he treated Huskisson
with some degree of harshness there is no doubt, but he was
angry, and not without reason; the former brought it all upon
himself. During the debate upon East Retford, when Huskisson was
called upon by Sandon to redeem his pledge, he told Peel that he
could not help himself, and must vote against him; but he begged
him to put off the question till the following week, that it
might be considered again. This Peel refused; had he acceded, all
this would not have taken place.

When the King saw Huskisson he was extremely gracious to him,
expressed the utmost regret at losing him, and said that he had
wished not to see him at first, that he might avoid receiving his
resignation, and in hopes that the matter would have been
arranged.[5] However, the other party say that the King is very
glad to have got rid of him and his party.

      [5] [Huskisson solicited an audience, which his Majesty
          refused for some days to grant: he would not see him
          until he had written again to the Duke of Wellington.]

In the middle of all this Madame de Lieven is supposed to have
acted with great impertinence if not imprudence, and to have made
use of the access she has to the King to say all sorts of things
against the Duke and the present Government. Her dislike to the
Duke has been increasing ever since that cessation of intimacy
which was caused by Canning's accession to power, when she
treated him very uncivilly in order to pay court to Canning.
Esterhazy told me last night that although her position here was
now greatly changed, and that it was far from being so agreeable
as it was, he could not accuse her of imprudence in having taken
the part she had done, because he thought that it had answered
very well, and that the objects of her Court had been in great
measure accomplished through her means.


[Page Head: THE CATHOLIC QUESTION.]

June 18th, 1828

The Duke of Wellington's speech on the Catholic question is
considered by many to have been so moderate as to indicate a
disposition on his part to concede emancipation, and bets have
been laid that Catholics will sit in Parliament next year. Many
men are resolved to see it in this light who are anxious to join
his Government, and whose scruples with regard to that question
are removed by such an interpretation of his speech. I do not
believe he means to do anything until he is compelled to it,
which if he remains in office he will be; for the success of the
Catholic question depends neither on Whigs nor Tories, the former
of whom have not the power and the latter not the inclination to
carry it. The march of time and the state of Ireland will effect
it in spite of everything, and its slow but continual advance can
neither be retarded by its enemies nor accelerated by its
friends. In the meantime men affect to consider his expressions
as of importance enough to influence their conduct in taking or
refusing office. Frankland Lewis,[6] who refused the Irish
Secretaryship, said that after that speech he regretted his
refusal and would be glad to take it, and now he wants to join
the Government again. Certainly at this moment the Tories are
triumphant, and so far from the Duke's Government having any
difficulty in standing, there does not appear to be a disposition
in any quarter to oppose it. Not only in Parliament there is no
Opposition, but the press is veering round and treating him with
great civility. The Government seem well disposed to follow up
the Liberal policy, to which they have been suspected of being
adverse, and have already declared that they do not intend to
deviate either in their foreign or domestic policy from the
principles on which the Government was understood to act previous
to the separation. Arbuthnot told my father yesterday that they
all regret now having resigned in 1827, and Huskisson owned to A.
that he had acted with unfortunate precipitancy.

      [6] [Right Hon. T. Frankland Lewis, a member of the
          Grenville and Canning section of the Tory party; made a
          baronet by Sir Robert Peel; the father of the Right
          Hon. Sir George Cornewall Lewis.]


June 29th, 1828 {p.134}

I dined yesterday with the King at St. James's--his Jockey Club
dinner. There were about thirty people, several not being invited
whom he did not fancy. The Duke of Leeds told me a much greater
list had been made out, but he had scratched several out of it.
We assembled in the Throne Room, and found him already there,
looking very well and walking about. He soon, however, sat down,
and desired everybody else to do so. Nobody spoke, and he laughed
and said, 'This is more like a Quaker than a Jockey Club
meeting.' We soon went to dinner, which was in the Great Supper
Room and very magnificent. He sat in the middle, with the Dukes
of Richmond and Grafton on each side of him. I sat opposite to
him, and he was particularly gracious to me, talking to me across
the table and recommending all the good things; he made me (after
eating a quantity of turtle) eat a dish of crawfish soup, till I
thought I should have burst. After dinner the Duke of Leeds, who
sat at the head of the table, gave 'The King.' We all stood up,
when his Majesty thanked us, and said he hoped this would be the
first of annual meetings of the sort to take place, there or
elsewhere under his roof. He then ordered paper, pens, &c., and
they began making matches and stakes; the most perfect ease was
established, just as much as if we had been dining with the Duke
of York, and he seemed delighted. He made one or two little
speeches, one recommending that a stop should be put to the
exportation of horses. He twice gave 'The Turf,' and at the end
the Duke of Richmond asked his leave to give a toast, and again
gave 'The King.' He thanked all the gentlemen, and said that
there was no man who had the interests of the turf more at heart
than himself, that he was delighted at having this party, and
that the oftener they met the better, and he only wanted to have
it pointed out to him how he could promote the pleasure and
amusement of the turf, and he was ready to do anything in his
power. He got up at half-past twelve and wished us good night.
Nothing could go off better, and Mount Charles told me he was
sure he was delighted.

[Page Head: LORD LYNDHURST AND THE GREAT SEAL.]

I dined with the Chancellor [Lord Lyndhurst] three days ago; he
talked to me a great deal about his acceptance of the Great Seal
and of the speculation it was. He was Master of the Rolls with
£7,000 a year for life when it was offered to him; he debated
whether it was worth while to give this up to be Chancellor for
perhaps only one year, with a peerage and the pension. He talked
the matter over with his wife, and they agreed that if it only
lasted one year (which he evidently thought probable) it was
worth while, besides the contingency of a long Chancellorship. He
asked me if the Government was popular and reckoned strong. I
told him it was apparently popular and reckoned strong, because
there was no Opposition and little chance of any. I said that
however hazardous his speculation might have been, it had turned
out well, for he had a good chance of being Chancellor as long as
his predecessor had been, there being so few candidates for the
office. He said this was true, and then he talked of his Court,
and said it was impossible for one man to do the business of it.
In talking of the speculation he had made, political opinions and
political consistency seemed never to occur to him, and he
considered the whole matter in a light so business-like and
professional as to be quite amusing. He talked of the Duke, said
he was a good man to do business with, quick and intelligent, and
'how well he managed that little correspondence with Huskisson,'
which was droll enough, for Huskisson dined there and was in the
room.


[Page Head: SIR ROBERT ADAIR'S ANECDOTES.]

August 6th, 1828 {p.136}

About three weeks ago I went to Windsor to a Council. The King
had been very ill for a day or two, but was recovered. Rob
Adair[7] was sworn in Privy Councillor, and he remained in the
room and heard the speech, which he ought not to have done. The
Duke attacked me afterwards (in joke) for letting him stay; but I
told him it was no business of mine, and his neighbour ought to
have told him to go. That neighbour, however, was Vesey
Fitzgerald, who said it was the first time he had attended a
Council, and he could not begin by turning another man out. I
brought Adair back to town, and he told me a great many things
about Burke, and Fox, and Fitzpatrick, and all the eminent men of
that time with whom he lived when he was young. He said what I
have often heard before, that Fitzpatrick was the most agreeable
of them all, but Hare the most brilliant. Burke's conversation
was delightful, so luminous and instructive. He was very
passionate, and Adair said that the first time he ever saw him he
unluckily asked him some question about the wild parts of
Ireland, when Burke broke out, 'You are a fool and a blockhead;
there are no wild parts in Ireland.' He was extremely terrified,
but afterwards Burke was very civil to him, and he knew him very
well.

      [7] [Right Hon. Sir Robert Adair, the friend of Fox,
          formerly ambassador at Constantinople and Vienna. It
          was he whom Canning once called 'Bobadare-a-dool-fowla.']

He told me a great deal about the quarrel between Fox and Burke.
Fox never ceased to entertain a regard for Burke, and at no time
would suffer him to be abused in his presence. There was an
attempt made to bring about a reconciliation, and a meeting for
that purpose took place of all the leading men at Burlington
House. Burke was on the point of yielding when his son suddenly
made his appearance unbidden, and on being told what was going on
said, 'My father shall be no party to such a compromise,' took
Burke aside and persuaded him to reject the overtures. That
son Adair described as the most disagreeable, violent, and
wrong-headed of men, but the idol of his father, who used to say
that he united all his own talents and acquirements with those of
Fox and everybody else. After the death of Richard Burke, Fox and
Burke met behind the throne of the House of Lords one day, when
Fox went up to Burke and put out both his hands to him. Burke was
almost surprised into meeting this cordiality in the same spirit,
but the momentary impulse passed away, and he doggedly dropped
his hands and left the House.

Adair told me that Lord Holland has written very copious memoirs
of his own time, and particularly characters of all the eminent
men who have died, in the delineation of which he excels. Soon
after Pitt's resignation in 1801 there was an attempt made to
effect a junction between Pitt and Fox, to which they were
neither of them averse. The negotiation was, however, entrusted
to subordinate agents, and Adair said that he had always
regretted that they had not met, for if they had he thought the
matter would have been arranged. As it was the design was
thwarted by the King through the intervention (I think he said)
of Lord Loughborough.

There was another Council about a week ago. On these occasions
the King always whispers to me something or other about his
racehorses or something about myself, and I am at this moment in
high favour. We had Howley and Bloomfield[8] at this Council,
with the latter of whom I made acquaintance, to the great
amusement of the Duke. He laughed at seeing me conversing with
this bishop.

      [8] [The Archbishop of Canterbury and the Bishop of
          London.]

I hear from Frederick Lamb that the Duke is greatly alarmed about
Ireland. By-the-by he, Frederick,[9] is come back from Portugal,
thinking that our Government have acted very ill and very
foolishly, first encouraging and then abandoning these wretched
Constitutionalists to their fate, and he is no particular friend
to Liberalism.

      [9] [Sir Frederick Lamb, afterwards created Lord Beauvale,
          and who became Lord Melbourne on the death of his
          brother William.]


August 14th, 1828 {p.137}

Just returned from Goodwood, where I went on the 11th, and heard
on arriving that the Lord High Admiral had resigned, but no
particulars. It is a very good thing at all events.


August 16th, 1828 {p.138}

The Lord High Admiral was turned out.[10] The Duke told him that
he must go, but that he might resign as if of his own accord. The
Duke is all-powerful. It is strongly reported that Peel will
resign, that the Duke means to concede the Catholic question and
to negotiate a _concordat_ with the Pope. Many people think Lord
Grey will join the Government, and that he will be First Lord of
the Admiralty. The Duke gave his brother Dr. Bloomfield's living
without any solicitation. Esterhazy told me to-night that
Palmella entertains from twenty to thirty of his countrymen at
dinner every day, of whom there are several hundred in London, of
the best families, totally destitute. All Palmella's property is
sequestrated, but he receives the appointment of Portuguese
Minister from the Brazilian Government.

     [10] [The King's letter dismissing the Duke of Clarence from
          the office of Lord High Admiral was dated the 11th of
          August, 1828. It is published in the Duke of
          Wellington's 'Correspondence,' New Series, vol. iv.
          p. 595.]


[Page Head: DAWSON'S SPEECH AT DERRY.]

August 22nd, 1828 {p.138}

Went to Stoke on the 19th and came back yesterday. There were the
Dowager Lady Salisbury, Duchess of Newcastle, Worcester and Lady
W. Russell, Giles, Billy Churchill. On the 18th Dawson's
speech[11] at Derry reached us, and I never remember any
occurrence which excited greater surprise. The general impression
was that he made the speech, with the Duke's knowledge and
concurrence, which I never believed. I thought from what he said
to me just before he went to Ireland that he had changed his own
opinion, and now many people say they knew this; but I was little
prepared to hear of his making such a speech at such a place as
Derry, and on such an occasion as a 'Prentice Boy' commemoration.
The rage and fury of the Orangemen there and of the Orange press
here are boundless, and the violence and scurrility of their
abuse are the more absurd because Dawson only described in
glowing colours, and certainly without reserve, the actual state
of Ireland, but did not argue the question at all further than
leaving on his hearers the inevitable inference that he thought
the time for granting emancipation was come. The truth is that
the conversion of one of the most violent anti-Catholics must
strike everybody as a strong argument in favour of the measure,
and they know not by how many and by whom his example may be
followed. The Orangemen are moving heaven and earth to create
disturbances, and their impotent fury shows how low their cause
is sunk. The Catholics, on the contrary, are temperate and calm,
from confidence in their strength and the progressive advance of
their course. But although I think the Catholics are now in a
position which renders their ultimate success certain, I am very
far from participating in the sanguine expectations of those who
think the Duke of Wellington is convinced that the question must
be settled directly, and that he will carry it through in the
ensuing session. In the first place I see clearly that the
Government are extremely annoyed at Dawson's speech. I saw
Goulburn to-day, and though he did not say much, what he did say
was enough to satisfy me of this: 'he hoped that it had been
incorrectly reported.' Dawson has written to the Duke,[12] and
the letter was sent to him to-day. But what has put me in despair
about it is a letter of the Duke's which Drummond read to me
to-day addressed, I do not know to whom, but upon that subject.
It began, 'My dear sir,' and after other matter proceeded nearly
as follows:--'This subject has been more discussed and more
pamphlets have been written upon it in the course of the last
twenty-five years than any other that I can remember. No two
people are agreed upon what ought to be done, and yet the
Government is expected at once to settle the question.' This is
the old argument, as if after thirty years' discussion in every
shape it was not time to settle the question. As if those who
undertake to govern the country were not the men who are bound to
find the means of settling it and allaying the irritation it
causes. And as if, instead of no two persons being agreed upon
the subject, all the ablest and wisest men in the country were
not cordially agreed that complete emancipation is the only
remedy for the evils that exist, and that they are opposed by the
most despicable faction which ever existed, animated by the most
base and sordid motives. This letter was read to me as conveying
the Duke's opinions, which his secretary thought were very sound
and sensible, and which I think evinced a degree of anility quite
pitiable, and proves how little there is to expect from any
liberality and good sense on his part.

     [11] [Mr. Peel's confidential letter to the Duke of
          Wellington, stating his reluctant conviction that it
          was indispensably necessary for the Government to
          change its policy on the Catholic question, was written
          on the 11th of August, 1828. The letter is published in
          Sir Robert Peel's 'Posthumous Memoirs,' vol. i, p. 189.
          It is a remarkable circumstance that Mr. Dawson's
          speech at Derry was made _just one week afterwards_;
          but there is no evidence that he knew of the change in
          his brother-in-law's opinion. See for further details
          as to the effect of Dawson's speech _infra_.]

     [12] [This letter is published in the Duke of Wellington's
          'Correspondence,' New Series, vol. iv. p. 633. The Duke
          said, 'Dawson's speech is too bad. Surely a man who
          does such things ought to be put in a strait
          waistcoat.' _Ibid._ p. 636.]

[Page Head: DISMISSAL OF THE LORD HIGH ADMIRAL.]

I do not yet know the whole truth of the Lord High Admiral's
resignation, but it seems that it is not yet certain. Negotiations
on the subject are still going on. I believe he quarrelled with
his council, particularly Cockburn, and that Government took part
with Cockburn. The Duke of Clarence wants to promote deserving
officers, but they oppose it on account of the expense, and they
find in everything great difficulty in keeping him in order. His
resignation will be very unpopular in the navy, for his system of
promotion was more liberal and impartial than that of his
predecessor, whose administration was one perpetual job, and who
made the patronage of the Admiralty instrumental to governing
Scotland. Hitherto the appointments of Government have not been
the most judicious--Lord Belmore to Jamaica, because he is a
Lord, and a very dull one; Lord Strangford to the Brazils, though
the Duke knows as well as anybody that he cannot be trusted, and
was recalled by Canning because he said and did all sorts of
things at Constantinople for which he had no authority, and they
found that no reliance whatever was to be placed in him. Lord
Stuart de Rothesay, too, is sent back to Paris, though personally
obnoxious to the King and universally disliked.


Stoke, August 25th, 1828 {p.141}

Went to Windsor to-day for a Council and came on here after it.
There were the Chancellor, Peel, Fitzgerald, Ellenborough, Sir G.
Murray, the Archbishop, and Bishop of London, who came to do
homage. The King gave the Chancellor a long audience, and another
to Peel, probably to talk over Dawson's speech and Orange
politics. After the Council the King called me and talked to me
about racehorses, which he cares more about than the welfare of
Ireland or the peace of Europe. We walked over the Castle, which
is nearly finished, but too gaudy. The King told me he would go
to Egham races to-morrow. I talked to Fitzgerald about Dawson's
speech. He said he believed Dawson had never told the Duke or
Peel what he meant to do, that he thought he was very bold and
imprudent. However, he was glad of it, as it must assist the
cause, and the moral effect in Ireland would be produced before
the Duke's sentiments could be known. Lord Mount Charles told me
the day before yesterday that the reason the Duke of Clarence had
resigned was, that he had in many instances exceeded his powers,
which had produced remonstrances from the Duke of Wellington,
whereupon the Duke of Clarence tendered his resignation, and the
Duke immediately carried it to the King without asking him to
stay.[13] Afterwards there were some negotiations, when the Duke
of Clarence refused to stay if Cockburn did. They would not,
however, part with Cockburn, but subsequently the Duke shook
hands with him and asked him to dine at Bushy on his birthday. He
said that his successor was not appointed, but it will probably
be Lord Melville. The King has not been well; he goes fishing and
dining at Virginia Water, stays out late, and catches cold.

     [13] [A letter from the Duke of Wellington to Sir Robert
          Peel, dated the 13th of August, 1828, explains the
          circumstances that led to the removal of the Duke of
          Clarence from the office of Lord High Admiral. This
          letter is published in the first volume of Sir Robert
          Peel's 'Posthumous Memoirs on the Catholic Question and
          the Repeal of the Corn Laws,' p. 269. The Duke of
          Wellington says, 'He behaved very rudely to Cockburn. I
          saw Cockburn and Croker, and both agreed in stating
          that the machine could no longer work.' In a subsequent
          letter the Duke added, 'I quite agree with you that it
          is very unfortunate the Duke of Clarence has resigned.
          I did everything in my power to avoid that result,
          excepting give up Cockburn.' The whole correspondence
          is published in the fourth volume of the Duke's
          'Correspondence,' New Series.]


August 29th, 1828 {p.142}

Came from Stoke last night. There were the Lievens, Cowper, Lord
Melbourne, Luttrell, Pierre d'Aremberg, Creevy, Russell,
Montrond. The King went to Egham races Tuesday and Thursday, was
very well received and pleased. He was very gracious to me.
Madame de Lieven went over to the Lodge to see Lady Conyngham,
who finding she had never seen Clifden, carried her off there,
ordered luncheon and the pony carriage, took her all over the
place, and then carried her back to Salthill, where the King's
carriage met her and took her back to Virginia Water to dinner.
Lieven told me they had never expected to find this Turkish
expedition an easy business, and had always been prepared for
great difficulties, &c., from which I conclude that they have met
with some check. I met Bachelor, the poor Duke of York's old
servant, and now the King's _valet de chambre_, and he told me
some curious things about the interior of the Palace; but he is
coming to call on me, and I will write down what he tells me
then. There is a report that the Admiralty has been offered to
Lord Melbourne. I asked him (at Stoke), and he said he had never
heard of it.


London, November 25th, 1828 {p.142}

I have not written anything since I left town, because nothing
occurred worth remembering. Yesterday I went to the Council at
Windsor. Most of the Ministers were there, the Recorder, two
foreign Ministers, and the Duke of Clarence. The King seemed to
be very well. The Duke of Wellington did not arrive till late,
and before he was come the King sent for Peel and gave him an
audience of two hours at least. I thought there must be something
in the wind, and was struck with Peel's taking the Duke into one
of the window recesses and talking to him very earnestly as soon
as he came out. I returned to town after the Council, and in the
evening went to the play, and coming out I met Henry de Ros and
Frederick Lamb. The former made me go with him in his carriage,
when he told me what fully explained the cause of Peel's long
audience--that the Duke has at last made up his mind to carry the
Catholic question, and that Peel[14] and the rest of the violent
anti-Catholics are going out; that the Duke's present idea is to
apply to Huskisson, but that nothing will be done or said till
the Ministers assemble in town and hold their cabinets.

     [14] [It had not then transpired, nor was it known until
          long afterwards, that the proposal to carry Catholic
          Emancipation was made by Mr. Peel to the Duke of
          Wellington on the 11th of August. Sir Robert Peel
          states, however, in his 'Memoir,' p. 269, 'At the close
          of the year 1828 little, if any, progress had been made
          in removing the difficulties with which the Duke of
          Wellington had to contend;' and, p. 274, 'The chief
          difficulty was the King. At the commencement of the
          month of January 1829 his Majesty had not yet signified
          his consent that the whole subject of Ireland,
          including the Catholic question, should be taken into
          consideration by his confidential servants.']

He told me also that the French Government have at last agreed to
make common cause with us in preventing the Russians from
prosecuting the war against Turkey.


[Page Head: HEALTH AND HABITS OF GEORGE IV.]

December 16th, 1828 {p.143}

A Council at Windsor yesterday; very few present, and no
audiences but Aberdeen for three-quarters of an hour and the Duke
for five minutes. I sent for Bachelor and had a long talk with
him. He said the King was well, but weak, his constitution very
strong, no malady about him, but irritation in the bladder which
he could not get rid of. He thinks the hot rooms and want of air
and exercise do him harm, and that he is getting every day more
averse to exercise and more prone to retirement, which, besides
that it weakens his constitution, is a proof that he is beginning
to break. Bachelor thinks he is in no sort of danger; I think he
will not live more than two years. He says that his attendants
are quite worn out with being always about him, and living in
such hot rooms (which obliges them to drink) and seldom getting
air and exercise. B. is at present well, but he sits up every
other night with the King and never leaves him. He is in high
favour, and Sir William Knighton is now as civil and obliging to
him as he used to be the reverse. The King instructs him in his
duties in the kindest manner, likes to have him about him, and
talks a great deal to him. But his Majesty keeps everybody at a
great distance from him, and all about him are afraid of him,
though he talks to his pages with more openness and familiarity
than to anybody. He thinks Radford (who is dying) is not in such
favour as he was, though he is always there; of O'Reilly the
surgeon, who sees the King every day and carries him all the
gossip he can pick up, Bachelor speaks with very little ceremony.
The King told them the other day that 'O'R. was the damnedest
liar in the world,' and it seems he is often in the habit of
discussing people in this way to his _valets de chambre_. He
reads a great deal, and every morning has his boxes brought to
him and reads their contents. They are brought up by Knighton or
Watson, both of whom have keys of all the boxes. He says there is
not one person about him whom he likes--Mount Charles pretty
well, Taylor better than anybody, Knighton constantly there and
his influence unbounded; he thinks K. can do anything.


[Page Head: CHARACTER OF O'CONNELL.]

December 20th, 1828 {p.144}

Hyde Villiers called on me ten days ago to give me an account of
his visit to Ireland. He seems to have been intimate with several
of the leading men, particularly Shiel, whom all agree in
describing as the cleverest man of his party. He also saw a good
deal of the Lord-Lieutenant;[15] and was struck by his imprudence
and unreserve. He spoke very positively of his determination not
to be a party to any measures contrary to his opinions, and did
not scruple to complain of the little information he received
from the Government here concerning their intentions. He also
appears to have been flattered by O'Connell into entire
confidence in him, and told Villiers that he would trust him
implicitly. O'Connell and Shiel detest each other, though Shiel
does not oppose him. Lawless detests him too, and he does
everything he can to thwart and provoke him, and opposes him in
the Association[16] upon all occasions. Lately in the affair of
the 'exclusive dealing' he met with such opposition in the
Association that it required a great deal of time and management
to get rid of that proposition, although in the end he carried
the matter very triumphantly. But O'Connell, though opposed by a
numerous party in the Association, is all-powerful in the
country, and there is not one individual who has a chance of
supplanting him in the affections of the great mass of the
Catholics. For twenty-five years he has been continually
labouring to obtain that authority and consideration which he
possesses without a rival, and is now so great that they yield
unlimited obedience to his individual will. As an orator he would
probably fail in the English House of Commons; but to a mob,
especially an Irish mob, he is perfect, exactly the style and
manner which suits their tastes and comprehensions, and
consequently his success with them is unbounded. He has a large
landed property, is at the head of his profession, an admirable
lawyer and manager of a cause, and never for a moment diverted by
political or other considerations from the due discharge of his
professional duties. He is besides a man of high moral character
and great probity in private life, and has been for years in the
habit of affording his professional assistance gratis to those of
his own religion who cannot afford to pay for it. These are some
of the grounds of his popularity, to which may be added his
industry and devotion to the Roman Catholic cause; he rises at
three every morning and goes to bed at eight. He possesses a very
retentive memory, and is particularly strong in historical and
constitutional knowledge. The great object of his ambition is to
be at the head of his own profession, and his favourite project
to reform the laws, a task for which he fancies himself eminently
qualified. To accomplish any particular object he cares not to
what charges of partial inconsistency he exposes himself,
trusting to his own ingenuity to exonerate himself from them
afterwards. Neither O'Connell nor Shiel are supposed to be men of
courage, but Lawless is, and he is thought capable of the most
desperate adventures. Shiel is of opinion that the Association
might be suppressed by law; O'Connell thinks it could not, and
that if it might legally it could not practically. O'Connell says
he can keep the country quiet another year certainly, Doyle
thinks not. Doyle is a very able man, a man of the world,
dislikes O'Connell, but is obliged to act in concert with him.
Doyle, conscious of his own talents, is deeply mortified that no
field is open for their display, and he is one of those men who
must be eminent in whatever cause they are engaged. Murray[17] is
a clever man, but not so ambitious as Doyle; Francis Leveson
is extremely cautious, cold in his manners, and therefore
conciliates no general regard in Ireland, where they like an
exactly opposite character. William Lamb was popular beyond all
precedent, but Francis seems to have avoided giving offence to
either party, which is perhaps as much as could have been
expected from him, and in a country where the rival factions are
so exasperated against each other to be able to preserve a
character for impartiality is no small praise. I wrote to my
brother Henry what I have mentioned under the head of November
21st, and in return he told me that it was in contemplation to
put down the Association, and that the law officers in Ireland
had reported that it was practicable, and their opinion had come
over here, but the decision of the Government had not arrived.

     [15] [The Marquis of Anglesey was then Lord-Lieutenant of
          Ireland.]

     [16] [The Catholic Association. The 'exclusive dealing' was
          a pledge required of members of the Association not to
          deal with Orangemen.]

     [17] [Dr. Murray, Roman Catholic Archbishop of Dublin. Lord
          Francis Leveson (afterwards Lord Francis Egerton and
          Earl of Ellesmere), Mr. Greville's brother-in-law, was
          then Irish Secretary. William Lamb, afterwards Lord
          Melbourne, had preceded him in that office. Henry
          Greville held a place at the Vice-Regal Court.]

I very soon saw enough to satisfy me that the Duke is
endeavouring to prevail on Peel to stay in office, and his
repeated conferences with the Bishop of Oxford and other bishops
are enough to prove that he is negotiating with the Church, but
nothing transpires of his intentions. Not one word has been said
to Huskisson or any of his friends. My belief is that in that
long conference at Windsor the King tried to prevail on Peel not
to go; since which discussions between Peel, the Duke, and the
Bishop have been going on to see how the matter can be arranged
so as to make Peel's acquiescence palatable to the Church and the
Brunswickers, and perhaps to engage the Duke to modify his
intended measures accordingly. This is conjecture. The Duke is
gone to Wootton and to Middleton; he is always going about.


[Page Head: LORD BELMORE GOVERNOR OF JAMAICA.]

December 21st, 1828 {p.147}

A few days ago I saw Lord Belmore just as he was setting out for
Jamaica. I went to talk to him about my plan.[18] He was very
civil and said he would do all that depended upon him. He does
not seem to be bright, but whatever his talents may be, he seems
to be left to the free exercise of them, for he told me that he
felt his situation to be one of some difficulty, never having
received any instructions (except of course the formal instructions
given to every governor in writing) as to his conduct from the
Secretary of State, having had no conversation with any of the
authorities about the state of the colony, nor any intimation of
their views and intentions in respect to the principal matters of
interest there. He said that as the Assembly of Jamaica is now
sitting, he had proposed to postpone his departure till the end
of their session, when the Bills they passed would come over
here, and he might discuss them with the Government and learn
their sentiments and wishes as to the course he should adopt; a
very sensible proposition. But he received for answer that he had
better go now, for that when these Bills came over here
Parliament would be sitting, and Government would not have
leisure to attend to the affairs of Jamaica. And this is the way
our colonies are governed! Stephen,[19] to whom I told this,
said he was not surprised, for that Sir George Murray did
nothing--never wrote a despatch--had only once since he has been
in office seen Taylor, who has got all the West Indies under his
care.

     [18] [Mr. Greville held the office of Secretary of the
          Island of Jamaica. The duties of the office were
          performed by a deputy paid by the Secretary out of the
          fees received in the island. He never visited Jamaica,
          and the office held on these conditions was a sinecure;
          but he occasionally took part in the affairs of Jamaica
          in this country. The 'plan' alluded to in this passage
          is unknown to me. Somerset, second Earl of Belmore, had
          just been appointed Governor of Jamaica at this time.]

     [19] [James Stephen, Esq., then law adviser of the Colonial
          Office, and afterwards Under-Secretary of State for the
          Colonies. Mr. Henry Taylor, the accomplished author of
          'Philip von Artevelde,' was at the head of the West
          India department of the office. Sir George Murray was
          Secretary of State.]

I might as well have put in on the 25th of November what the King
said to me, as it seems to have amused everybody. I was standing
close to him at the Council, and he put down his head and
whispered, 'Which are you for, Cadland or the mare?' (meaning the
match between Cadland and Bess of Bedlam); so I put my head down
too and said, 'The horse;' and then as we retired he said to the
Duke, 'A little bit of Newmarket.'


December 30th, 1828 {p.148}

Hyde Villiers brought me on Thursday or Friday last a copy of the
Duke's letter to Dr. Curtis,[20] which had been sent to him from
Dublin under strict injunction of not showing it. The next day it
appeared in all the newspapers, O'Connell having read it to the
Association. It has made a great noise, and being as usual
ambiguous, both parties affect to consider it to be in their
favour. I fancy the Duke is very angry at its publication, at
least judging from what his secretaries say.

     [20] [The Duke of Wellington had corresponded with Dr.
          Curtis, the titular Roman Catholic Primate of Ireland,
          for many years. Indeed, as appears in the text, he had
          known him long before at Salamanca, when this prelate
          was at the Irish College there. Several excellent
          letters by Dr. Curtis to the Duke are published in the
          second volume of the Duke's 'Correspondence,' New
          Series. The letter adverted to in the text was that in
          which the Duke said (not very wisely) that 'if men
          could bury the subject (of Catholic Emancipation) in
          oblivion for a short time, it might be possible to
          discover a satisfactory remedy.' Curtis put a copy of
          the letter in O'Connell's hands, and he read it aloud
          at the Catholic Association. Curtis sent a copy of the
          letter and his own reply to the Lord-Lieutenant, who
          answered him in another letter, in which he said that
          'he did not before know the precise sentiments of the
          Duke upon the present state of the Catholic question.'
          This letter was also made public, and added fuel to the
          flames.]

The word _the_ in the first paragraph was substituted for _a_,
and this alteration these blockheads pretend makes a great
difference in the sense. It makes none, and is only worthy of
remark because they probably echo what he has said. It is clear
enough as to his _opinion_, but nothing more. Curtis was in Spain
and imprisoned by the French at Salamanca. After the battle the
Duke delivered him and had a good deal of communication with him.
He returned to Ireland, and from that period has been in
occasional correspondence with the Duke. Curtis had written him a
long letter, desiring information about his intentions, and this
was the answer. A few days ago Hyde Villiers called on the Duke
and placed in his hands the resolutions which were agreed to by a
committee of the general meeting to be held in Dublin next month.
He took them, but said he must decline saying anything; as
Minister of the Crown he could not say a word, as whatever he did
must be done in conjunction with his colleagues and with the
King; that there was a disposition to draw inferences from
everything, as, for example, that a gentleman he had known in
Spain had written to him on the subject, and his answer had been
handed about, and all sorts of inferences drawn from it, which
was very inconvenient, and proved how cautious he must be. No
doubt it was the Curtis correspondence to which he alluded.


                              1829.


[Page Head: RECALL OF LORD ANGLESEY.]

January 2nd, 1829 {p.149}

Lord Anglesey was recalled last Sunday. The Duke of Wellington
came to see my mother either Saturday or Sunday last, and told
her he had been with the King three hours the day before, talking
to him about Lord A., that his Majesty was furious with him,
thought he took upon himself as if he were King of Ireland, and
was indignant at all he said and all he did. The Duke talked a
great deal about him, but did not say he was recalled, though his
manner was such that he left an impression that he had something
in his mind which he would not let out. He gave it to be
understood, however, that he had been endeavouring to appease the
King, and that Lord A.'s recall was insisted on by his Majesty
against his (the Duke's) desire. I enquired warmly whether he had
asserted or only implied this, because I don't believe one word
of it. I was told that he had only implied it, but had left that
impression. But the Duke complained of Lord A.'s conduct to
himself; that he had at first written him insolent letters, and
latterly had hardly ever written to him at all. My belief is that
the Duke has for some time wished to get rid of Lord Anglesey,
that these Cabinets have been upon this subject, and that his
recall was settled there. As to the King's dictation and the
Duke's submission, I don't believe a word of it. It has been
clear to me for some time that the Irish Government could not
remain in Lord Anglesey's hands. I am very sorry for it, for I
think it will have a bad effect, and have little hope of its
being followed by any measures likely to counteract the evil it
immediately occasions.


January 4th, 1829 {p.150}

I have seen letters from Dublin stating that the immediate cause
of the recall was a letter which Lord Anglesey had written to the
Duke (but what that was I have not ascertained), and that his
imprudence was so great it was impossible he could have gone on.
Certainly the writing and then publishing this letter of Curtis'
is an enormous act of indiscretion. The consternation in Dublin
seems to have been great, and Henry says that if Lord A. does not
decline all demonstrations of popular feeling towards him, he
will leave Ireland as Lord Fitzwilliam did, attended by the whole
population. Yesterday I asked Fitzgerald[21] if it was true that
Lord A. was recalled. He put on a long face, and said 'he did not
know; _recalled_ he certainly was not.' I saw he was not disposed
to be communicative, so I said no more; he, however, began again
of his own accord, and asked me whether I thought, in the event
of Lord A.'s coming away, that Francis Leveson would remain. I
told him under what conditions he had taken the place, viz. that
he was only to stay while Lord A. did; that circumstances might
make a difference, but that I knew nothing. He said he had done
remarkably well, given great satisfaction, and shown great
discretion in a difficult situation; that the rock Lord A. had
split upon was his vanity.

     [21] [Right Hon. Vesey Fitzgerald, then President of the
          Board of Trade. He was raised to the peerage of the
          United Kingdom in 1835, as Baron Fitzgerald and Vesci.]


[Page Head: RECALL OF LORD ANGLESEY.]

January 5th, 1829 {p.150}

The exact history of what took place in Dublin is as follows:--
Lord Anglesey first of all desired George Villiers would get his
letter to Dr. Curtis inserted in the newspaper. He took it to
Shiel, who agreed to write as good an article as he could to go
with it, and then he went to Dr. Murray to inform him (as Dr.
Curtis's friend) of the intended publication, as Curtis himself
was absent, and his consent ought to have been previously
obtained. He went afterwards to the Phoenix Park, and Lord
Anglesey laid the whole case and correspondence before him. Some
time ago the Duke wrote to Lord Anglesey proposing that O'Gorman
Mahon and Steele should be removed from the Commission of the
Peace on account of their conduct to the Sheriff of Clare. Lord
Anglesey wrote word that the subject had engaged his attention,
and he had laid the case before the law officers, who had
reported to him that there were no grounds for any legal
proceedings against them. 'How, therefore,' said the Lord-Lieutenant,
'could I degrade men against whom my law officers advised me that
no charge could be brought?' This was one offence; and another,
that he had countenanced Lord Cloncurry, who, being a member
of the Association, was unworthy to receive the King's representative
and the Chancellor. Lord Anglesey warmly defended Lord Cloncurry
as a magistrate and a man, and appealed to his known loyalty and
respect for the King as a proof that he would never have done
anything derogatory to his own situation. The Duke's letter
he described to have been overbearing and insolent, Lord
Anglesey's[22] temperate, but firm. Lord Anglesey declares that
these were all the grounds of offence he had given. Five weeks
elapsed, during which he heard nothing from the Duke, and at the
end of that time he received his letter of recall, conceived
nearly in these words:--'My dear Lord Anglesey,--I am aware of
the impropriety of having allowed your letter to remain so long
unanswered, but I wished to consult my colleagues, who were out
of town. I have now done so, and they concur with me that with
such a difference of opinion between the King's Minister and the
Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland the government of that country could
not be conducted by you with advantage to the public service. I
have therefore taken the King's pleasure on the subject, and he
commands me to inform you that you will be immediately relieved
from your government. I will give you the earliest information of
the arrangement which will be made in consequence. Believe me,
&c.' This is nearly the letter.[23] From Lord Anglesey George
Villiers went to Shiel, and with him to O'Connell, to whom Lord
A. desired he would communicate the event. O'Connell was
dreadfully dejected, so much so that Shiel and G. Villiers were
glad to go home and dine with him in order to calm him. They at
length succeeded in doing so, and made him engage to abstain from
any discussion of the recall in the Association the next day (a
promise which he did not keep). Shiel made a very fine speech in
the Association. Nothing, they say, can exceed the general
feeling on the subject, and Lord Anglesey appears to be acting
with great dignity and reserve; he wishes to decline all popular
honours, and he put off going to the play, which he was to have
done.

     [22] [The correspondence of Lord Anglesey with the Duke of
          Wellington on these charges is now published in the
          'Wellington Correspondence,' New Series, vol. v. p.
          244.]

     [23] [The letter itself is now published in the 'Wellington
          Correspondence,' New Series, vol. v. p. 366. Mr.
          Greville's version of it differs in no material point
          from the original, though the language is slightly
          altered.]


January 7th, 1829 {p.152}

The Duke wrote to Francis Leveson to say he must not be surprised
to hear that a letter would reach Lord Anglesey by that day's
post, conveying to him his recall; that the King was so furious
with him that he said he would make any sacrifice rather than
allow him to remain there five minutes longer. His Secretary had
repeatedly remonstrated with the Lord-Lieutenant on his imprudent
language in Ireland, and on the tone of his letters to the Duke,
but that he always defended both on principle. The Duke said that
his letters were most offensive towards him, yet he continued to
declare that he should have been glad to keep Lord Anglesey on
but for the King. The Lord-Lieutenant did not go to the play, but
his family did, and were received with great applause, although
the pit was full of Orangemen. Lord Melville has refused the
Lord-Lieutenancy.


January 11th, 1829 {p.153}

When George Villiers sent me the accounts of what had passed in
Ireland about Lord Anglesey's letter to Curtis I wrote him a long
letter, in which I told him why I thought the letter and its
publication were unjustifiable and indiscreet, and particularly
cautioned him against connecting himself much with the agitator,
on account of the harm it would do him here. He wrote me a long
answer, defending Lord Anglesey and his measures, but I do not
think he makes out a case for him, and if the Lord-Lieutenant
makes in the House of Lords the defence which he proposes to make
I think he will fail; but if he can keep Lord Plunket on his
side, who is now said to be very eager about him, he will do.
Plunket is under the influence of Blake, who keeps, as George
Villiers says, 'Lord Plunket's mind in his breeches' pocket.'
Lord Anglesey has behaved very well since the quarrel, declining
all honours and expressions of public feeling.


[Page Head: THE KING AND THE CATHOLIC QUESTION.]

January 12th, 1829 {p.153}

Lord Mount Charles came to me this morning and consulted me about
resigning his seat at the Treasury. He hates it and is perplexed
with all that has occurred between the Duke and Lord Anglesey. I
advised him to resign, feeling as he does about it. He told me
that he verily believed the King would go mad on the Catholic
question, his violence was so great about it. He is very angry
with him and his father for voting as they do, but they have
agreed never to discuss the matter at all, and his mother never
talks to the King about it. Whenever he does get on it there is
no stopping him. Mount Charles attributes the King's obstinacy to
his recollections of his father and the Duke of York and to the
influence of the Duke of Cumberland. He says that 'his father
would have laid his head on the block rather than yield, and that
he is equally ready to lay his head there in the same cause.' He
is furious with Lord Anglesey, but he will be very much afraid of
him when he sees him. Mount Charles was in the room when Lord
Anglesey took leave of the King on going to Ireland, and the King
said, 'God bless you, Anglesey! I know you are a true Protestant.'
Anglesey answered, 'Sir, I will not be considered either
Protestant or Catholic; I go to Ireland determined to act
impartially between them and without the least bias either one
way or the other.' Lord Anglesey dined with Mount Charles the day
before he went. The same morning he had been with the Duke and
Peel to receive their last instructions, and he came to dinner in
great delight with them, as they had told him they knew he would
govern Ireland with justice and impartiality, and they would give
him no instructions whatever. He showed me a letter from
Mr. Harcourt Lees full of invectives against the Duke and
lamentations at the recall, to show how the Protestants regretted
him as well as the Catholics.

He then talked to me about Knighton, whom the King abhors with a
detestation that could hardly be described. He is afraid of him,
and that is the reason he hates him so bitterly. When alone with
him he is more civil, but when others are present (the family,
for instance) he delights in saying the most mortifying and
disagreeable things to him. He would give the world to get rid of
him, and to have either Taylor or Mount Charles instead, to whom
he has offered the place over and over again, but Mount Charles
not only would not hear of it, but often took Knighton's part
with the King. He says that his language about Knighton is
sometimes of the most unmeasured violence--wishes he was dead,
and one day when the door was open, so that the pages could hear,
he said, 'I wish to God somebody would assassinate Knighton.' In
this way he always speaks of him and uses him. Knighton is
greatly annoyed at it, and is very seldom there. Still it appears
there is some secret chain which binds them together, and which
compels the King to submit to the presence of a man whom he
detests, and induces Knighton to remain in spite of so much
hatred and ill-usage. The King's indolence is so great that it is
next to impossible to get him to do even the most ordinary
business, and Knighton is still the only man who can prevail on
him to sign papers, &c. His greatest delight is to make those who
have business to transact with him, or to lay papers before him,
wait in his anteroom while he is lounging with Mount Charles or
anybody, talking of horses or any trivial matter; and when he is
told, 'Sir, there is Watson waiting,' &c., he replies, 'Damn
Watson; let him wait.' He does it on purpose, and likes it.

[Page Head: CHARACTER OF GEORGE IV.]

This account corresponds with all I have before heard, and
confirms the opinion I have long had that a more contemptible,
cowardly, selfish, unfeeling dog does not exist than this King,
on whom such flattery is constantly lavished. He has a sort of
capricious good-nature, arising however out of no good principle
or good feeling, but which is of use to him, as it cancels in a
moment and at small cost a long score of misconduct. Princes have
only to behave with common decency and prudence, and they are
sure to be popular, for there is a great and general disposition
to pay court to them. I do not know anybody who is proof against
their seductions when they think fit to use them in the shape of
civility and condescension. The great consolation in all this is
the proof that, so far from deriving happiness from their
grandeur, they are the most miserable of all mankind. The
contrast between their apparent authority and the contradictions
which they practically meet with must be peculiarly galling, more
especially to men whose minds are seldom regulated, as other
men's are, by the beneficial discipline of education and early
collision with their equals. There have been good and wise kings,
but not many of them. Take them one with another they are of an
inferior character, and this I believe to be one of the worst of
the kind. The littleness of his character prevents his displaying
the dangerous faults that belong to great minds, but with vices
and weaknesses of the lowest and most contemptible order it would
be difficult to find a disposition more abundantly furnished.


January 16th, 1829 {p.155}

I went to Windsor to a Council yesterday. There were the Duke,
the Lord Chancellor, Chancellor of the Exchequer, Master of
the Mint, Lord President, Lord Aberdeen, Peel, Melville,
Ellenborough. The King kept us waiting rather longer than usual.
He looked very well, and was dressed in a blue great coat, all
over gold frogs and embroidery. Lord Liverpool was there to give
up the late Lord's Garter, and had an audience. He said to me
afterwards that the King had asked him all sorts of questions
about his family concerns, with which he seemed extraordinarily
well acquainted, and to some of which he was puzzled to give an
answer. The King is the greatest master of gossip in the world,
and his curiosity about everybody's affairs is insatiable. I
spoke to Peel about the Council books,[24] which are in the State
Paper Office, and he promised they should be restored to the
Council Office.

     [24] [At the fire which took place at Whitehall in 1619
          several volumes of the 'Council Register' were lost or
          dispersed. Some of these missing volumes were in the
          State Paper Office, and two are still in the British
          Museum.]

Just before I set off to Windsor I heard from Ireland, and this
is an extract of the letter:--'Lord Anglesey received a letter
from Peel this morning to the effect "that as he had written and
published a letter such as no Lord-Lieutenant was justified in
writing, it was his Majesty's pleasure that Lords Justices should
be immediately appointed." Francis found him very smiling and
glorious, but angry, and declaring that he would do just the same
again if he had to choose his line of conduct.'

_À propos_ of Denman's silk gown, Mount Charles told me the other
day that Denman wrote a most humble apology to the King,
notwithstanding which the Duke of Wellington had great trouble in
mollifying him. At last he consented, but wrote himself on the
document that in consideration of his humble apology his Majesty
forgave him, as he thought it became the King to forgive a
subject, but desired this note might be preserved in the
Treasury, where Mount Charles says it now is.[25]

     [25] [This curious correspondence has now been published in
          the fifth volume of the Duke of Wellington's
          'Despatches,' New Series, pp. 117 and 153. The cause of
          the quarrel was a Greek quotation from Dion which
          Denman had introduced into one of his speeches at the
          Queen's trial. In the King's answer to the memorial
          (which answer was drawn up by the Duke of Wellington)
          the following passage occurs:--
             'The King could not believe that the Greek quotation
          referred to had occurred to the mind of the advocate in
          the eagerness and heat of his argument, nor that it was
          not intended, nor that it had not been sought for and
          suggested for the purpose of applying to the person of
          the Sovereign a gross insinuation.' Denman, however,
          prayed his Majesty to believe that 'no such insinuation
          was ever made by him, that the idea of it never entered
          his mind,' &c.
             The truth about this quotation is this:--During the
          Queen's trial Dr. Parr, who was a warm supporter of the
          Queen and an intimate friend of Denman, employed
          himself in ransacking books for quotations which might
          be used in the defence. Thus he lit in Bayle's
          Dictionary, article 'Octavia,' upon the answer made by
          Pythias, one of the slaves of Octavia, to Tigellinus,
          when he was torturing the slaves of the Empress in
          order to convict her of adultery. The same answer
          occurs in substance in Tacitus' 'Annals,' book xiv.
          cap. 60. This Parr sent to Denman, and Denman used it
          in his speech. The fact is, therefore, that the
          quotation had been 'sought for and suggested' for the
          express purpose of saying something personally
          offensive to the King. The King's resentment against
          Denman did not end here as will be seen lower down,
          where he refused to receive the Recorder's report
          through the Common Serjeant.]


January 21st, 1829 {p.156}

The sealed orders with which the ships have sailed from Plymouth,
were orders to prevent the Portuguese (who have been sent away)
from landing at Terceira.

Lady Westmeath was the woman meant in the article in the 'Times'
from Ireland about the pension to which Lord Anglesey would not
agree. The story is very true. There was £700 disposable on the
Pension Fund, and the Duke of Wellington desired £400 might be
given to Lady Westmeath, which Lord Anglesey and the Secretary
both protested against, and were resolved to resign rather than
agree to it. They wrote to the Duke such strong remonstrances
that he appears to have desisted from the design, for they heard
no more of it. It is therefore false that this had anything to do
with the recall, though it is by no means improbable that it
served to alienate the Duke from the Marquis and to make him
desire the more to get rid of him. This happened as long ago as
last August, I think.

[Page Head: STATE OF RUSSIA.]

Yesterday the Duke dined with us, in very good spirits, and
agreeable as he always is, though not so communicative and free
as he used to be. He had never told Francis Leveson about the
Duke of Northumberland[26] till Sunday, when he wrote to announce
the appointment. His Grace seems mightily pleased with it, and
fancies that his figure and his fortune are more than enough to
make him a very good Lord-Lieutenant. He says he was obliged to
coax him a little to get him to accept it.

     [26] [Hugh, third Duke of Northumberland, was declared
          Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland on the recall of Lord
          Anglesey.]

[Page Head: THE EMPEROR ALEXANDER I.]

He said that he was on the best terms with France, talked of
Russia and her losses in the war, adding that the notion of her
power was at an end. He believed that the Russians were
numerically as strong as the Turks in the last campaign, and they
were much more numerous than they said: first, _because_ they
said they were not so; and secondly, that he had other reasons
for believing it; he thought they had begun the campaign with
160,000 men and had lost 120,000.[27] They were talking of St.
Petersburg and its palaces. The Duke said that the fortunes of
the great Russian nobles--the Tolstoys, &c.--were so diminished
that they lived in corners of their great palaces; but this was
owing to the division of property and the great military
colonies, by which the Crown lands were absorbed, and the
Emperors had no longer the means of enriching the nobles by
enormous donations as formerly. When to these circumstances are
added the amelioration of the condition of the serfs, and the
spirit of general improvement, and the growth of Liberal ideas,
generated by intercommunication with the rest of Europe, it is
impossible to doubt that a revolution must overtake Russia within
a short period, and probably the Emperor has undertaken this war
in order to give vent to the restless humours which are beginning
to work. I said so to Lord Bathurst, and he replied that 'he
thought so too, but that the present Emperor was a man of great
firmness,' as if any individual authority or character could stem
the torrent of determined action impelled by universal revolution
of feeling and opinion. He said the late Emperor was so well
aware of this that he died of the vexation it had caused him,
which was aggravated by the reflection that he was in great
measure himself the cause of it. He was so bit by Liberal
opinions, and so delighted with the effects he saw in other
countries flowing from the diffusion of intelligence and freedom,
that he wished to engraft these dangerous exotics upon the rude
and unprepared soil of his own slavish community. When he went to
Oxford he was so captivated with the venerable grandeur of that
University that he declared he would build one when he got
home, and it is equally true that he said he 'would have an
Opposition.' These follies were engendered in the brain of a very
intelligent man by the mixture of such crudities with an
unbounded volition, and the whole fermented by a lively
imagination and a sincere desire to confer great benefits on his
country.

     [27] [This seems an extraordinary statement, but it shows
          how well informed the Duke was. In Major von Moltke's
          narrative of the campaign of 1828 he estimates the
          average force of the Russian army at 100,000. But from
          May 1828 to February 1829 no less than 210,108 men
          passed through the hospitals, or died in them. So that,
          as Moltke remarks, in the course of those ten months
          every man in his army was twice in hospital. Never did
          an army suffer more severely from sickness.]


January 25th, 1829 {p.159}

Lord Anglesey's departure from Dublin was very fine, and his
answer to the addresses good. I fancy George Villiers had some
hand in penning them. The Duke when he dined with us the other
day said that a Russian Extraordinary Ambassador was coming here
to overhaul Lieven, a M. Matuscewitz. He is the principal writer
in their Foreign Office, a clever man. Their despatches are more
able than they used to be, but the Duke said that the Turkish
offices are better conducted than any, and the Turkish Ministers
extremely able. Lord Bathurst told me he had lately read the
minutes of a conversation between the Reis-Effendi and the Allied
Ministers after the battle of Navarino, when they were ignorant
whether the Turk had received intelligence of the event, and that
his superiority over them was exceedingly striking. This was the
conference in which when they asked him 'supposing such an event
had happened, what he should say to it,' he replied 'that in his
country they never named a child till its sex was ascertained.'

Everybody thinks the appointment of the Duke of Northumberland a
very good one, and that the Duke is in great luck to get him. It
is surprising that he should have consented to go, but he
probably likes to do something and display his magnificence. He
is a very good sort of man, with a very narrow understanding, an
eternal talker, and prodigious bore. The Duchess is a more
sensible woman, and amiable and good-humoured. He is supposed to
be ruled in all things by her advice; he has no political
opinions, and though he has hitherto voted against the Catholics,
he is one of the people who pin their faith on the Duke, and who
are made to vote in any way and upon anything as he may please to
desire them.

This pension of Lady Westmeath's makes a great noise, and it is
generally believed that when Lord Anglesey refused to grant it
the Duke got the King's sign manual for it, and the job was done.
The truth is that Lord Anglesey had at first refused, or rather
expressed his disapprobation, and asked the Duke if the King had
commanded it, to which the Duke sent an angry answer that he
might have been sure he should not have recommended it but by the
King's commands. M---- told me the pension (£400) was granted
four months ago, for he signed the warrant himself.

Polignac is gone to Paris, but the Duke thinks not to be
Minister. Polignac told him that he wished to return here, as he
thought he could do more good here than there.

[Page Head: THE STATE PAPER OFFICE.]

Yesterday I went with Amyot to the State Paper Office to look
after my Council books. I found one book belonging to my office
and nearly thirty volumes of the 'Register of the Council of
State,'[28] which I mean to ask for, but which I suppose they
will refuse. Amyot suggests that as all the acts of the Council
of State were illegal and of no authority they cannot be
considered as belonging to the Council Office, and are merely
historical records without an official character. I shall try,
however, to get them. Mr. Lemon showed us a great many curious
papers. When he first had the care of the State papers they were
in the greatest confusion, and he has been diligently employed in
reducing them to order. Every day has brought to light documents
of importance and interest which as they are successively found
are classed and arranged and rendered disposable for literary and
historical purposes.

     [28] [Of the time of the Commonwealth. The 'Privy Council
          Register' extends from the last years of Henry VIII. to
          the present time, not including the Commonwealth.]

Lemon has found papers relating to the Powder Plot alone
sufficient to make two quarto volumes, exceedingly curious; all
Garnett's original papers, and I hope hereafter they will be
published.[29] We saw the famous letter to Lord Mounteagle, of
which Lemon said he had, he thought, discovered the author. It
has been attributed to Mrs. Abington, Lord Mounteagle's sister,
but he thinks it was written by Mrs. Vaux, who was a friend of
hers, and mistress, probably, of Garnett; it is to her that many
of Garnett's letters are addressed. It seems that Mrs. Vaux and
Mrs. Abington were both present at the great meeting of the
conspirators at Hendlip, and he thinks that the latter, desirous
of saving her brother's life, prevailed on Mrs. Vaux to write the
letter, for the handwriting exactly corresponds with some other
writing of hers which he has seen. There is a remarkable paper
written by King James with directions what questions should be
put to Guy Faux, and ending with a recommendation that he should
be tortured first gently, and then more severely as might be
necessary. Then the depositions of Faux in the Tower, which had
been taken down (contrary to his desire) in writing, and which he
was compelled to sign upon the rack; his signature was written in
faint and trembling characters, and his strength had evidently
failed in the middle, for he had only written 'Guido.' There is a
distinct admission in the Plot papers in Garnett's own hand that
he came to a knowledge of the Plot otherwise than by the
Sacrament of Confession, which oversets Lingard; a paragraph by
which it is clear that the Pope knew of it; and a curious paper
in which, having sworn that he had never written certain letters,
which letters were produced when he was taxed with the false
oath, Garnett boldly justifies himself, and says that they ought
not to have questioned him on the subject, having the letters in
their hands, and that he had a right to deny what he believed
they could not prove--a very remarkable exposition of the tenets
of his order and the doctrines of equivocation.

     [29] [The substance of these papers has since been published
          by the late David Jardine, Esq., in his excellent
          'Narrative of the Gunpowder Plot.' (Murray, London,
          1857.) Some of the particulars here referred to by Mr.
          Greville are not strictly accurate, or at least have
          not been confirmed by subsequent investigation. It is
          not probable that the letter to Lord Mounteagle was
          written by Mrs. Abington or by Mrs. Vaux, nor is it at
          all certain that either of these ladies had any
          knowledge of the Plot. Mr. Jardine ascribes the letter
          to Tresham ('Narrative,' &c., p. 83). Garnett's
          admissions are printed in Jardine's Appendix. His
          knowledge of the Plot was derived from Greenway, a
          priest to whom Catesby had revealed it in confession.
          The Pope was probably not privy to the Plot. The
          celebrated 'Treatise on Equivocation' was found in
          Tresham's desk. The identical copy with Garnett's notes
          is still in the Bodleian; it was reprinted in 1851.]

When I came away from the State Paper Office I met George Dawson,
and we had a long conversation about Irish affairs, from which I
gathered what is to be done. The Catholic question is to be
conceded, the elective franchise altered, and the Association
suppressed. This latter is, I take it, to be a preliminary
measure, and I suspect the Duke went to the King on Monday with
the resolution of the Cabinet on the subject, and I think so the
more because the Archbishop was sent for post-haste just before
he went. Dawson talked to me a great deal about his speech at
Derry, and said that so many of his friends were aware of the
change in his opinions that he thought it more fair and manly to
declare them at once in public than to use any dissimulation with
his constituents and leave them to be guessed at, as if he dared
not own them; that he had made a great sacrifice, for he had
risked his seat, which was very secure before, and had quarrelled
with Peel, with his family, and with all his old political
friends and associates. We talked a great deal about Peel, and I
see clearly that he has given way; probably they have compromised
the business, and he agrees to the Emancipation part, in order to
have the Association suppressed and the 40s. freeholders
disfranchised. Lord Anglesey always said that his removal would
facilitate the business, for the Duke wished to have all the
credit of it to himself, and had no mind to divide it with him,
whereas if Lord Anglesey had remained the chief credit would have
fallen to his share.

[Page Head: NAVARINO.]

I met Sir Edward Codrington in the morning, and walked with him
to Downing Street, where he was going to talk to the Duke about
his Navarino business. He is mightily incensed, thinks he has
been scandalously used both by Dudley and Aberdeen, is ready to
tell his story and show his documents to anybody, and says he is
resolved the whole matter shall come out, and in the House of
Commons if he can produce it. God knows how his case will turn
out, but I never saw a man so well satisfied with himself. He
says that the action at Navarino was, as an achievement, nothing
to the affair at Patras, when with one line-of-battle ship, one
frigate, and a corvette he drove before him Ibrahim and four
Turkish admirals and a numerous fleet.


February 4th, 1829 {p.163}

Went to Middleton last Friday; very few people. I returned by
Oxford, and called on Dr. Bandinell, who took me to the Bodleian.
I could not find any Council books, but I had not much time to
devote to the search. Dr. Bandinell promised to inform me if he
could find any books or manuscripts relating to my office. I was
surprised to find in the Bodleian a vast number of books
(manuscripts) which had belonged to Pepys. I came to town on
Monday night, and found that the concession of Catholic
Emancipation was generally known; the 'Times' had an article on
Friday which clearly announced it. The rage and despair of the
Orange papers is very amusing. I have not yet heard how the King
took it all. Glad as I am that the measure is going to be
carried, the conduct of all those who are to assist in it (the
old anti-Catholics) seems to me despicable to the greatest
degree; having opposed it against all reason and common sense for
years past, now that the Duke of Wellington lifts up his finger
they all obey, and without any excuse for their past or present
conduct. The most agreeable event, if it turns out to be true, is
the defection of Dr. Philpots, whose conduct and that of others
of his profession will probably not be without its due effect in
sapping the foundations of the Church. All the details that I
have yet learnt confirm my opinion that the spirit in which the
Duke and his colleagues approach this great measure is not that
of calm and deliberate political reasoning, but a fearful sense
of necessity and danger, to which they submit with extreme
repugnance and with the most miserable feelings of pique and
mortification at being compelled to adopt it. The Duke and Peel
wrote to Francis Leveson, complaining of my brother's having
met Shiel at dinner, and they were so enraged with George
Villiers[30] that they seriously meditated turning him out of his
office. Wretched and contemptible to the greatest degree! They
are now exceedingly annoyed because it is discovered that Woulffe
was once a member of the Association, and would willingly have
him turned out of the place of Assistant-Barrister, which has
just been given to him; but Francis is resolved to maintain him
in it. They say the Duke sent a copy of the King's Speech to Lord
Eldon.

     [30] [Mr. George Villiers, then an Irish Commissioner of
          Customs (afterwards Earl of Clarendon), had cultivated
          the society of Shiel and invited him to dinner. Such an
          attention from an English official to an Irish Catholic
          was at that time an unheard-of innovation. Shiel told
          his host that he had never dined in a Protestant house
          before. The Duke of Wellington took great umbrage at
          what he considered an unwarrantable breach of official
          decorum.]


[Page Head: CATHOLIC RELIEF BILL.]

February 5th, 1829 {p.164}

Went to Brookes' yesterday, and found all the Whigs very merry at
the Catholic news. Most of them were just come to town and had
heard nothing till they arrived. The old Tories dreadfully
dejected, but obliged to own it was all true; intense curiosity
to hear what Peel will say for himself. The general opinion seems
to be that the Duke has managed the matter extremely well, which
I am disposed to think too, but there is always a disposition to
heap praise upon him whenever it is possible. Nobody yet knows
who are converted and who are not; they talk of nine bishops; I
think he will have them all, and I expect a very great majority
in the House of Lords. Many people expect that Wilmot's plan will
be adopted, restraining the Catholics from voting in matters
concerning the Church, which I do not believe, for Wilmot is at a
discount and his plan is absurd and impracticable. Lord Harrowby,
however, is all for it. I hear many of the Liberals are
exceedingly provoked, and not unnaturally, at the Duke's
effecting this measure, at which they have been so long labouring
in vain, and give as many spiteful flings at him as they can
about the insincerity of his letter to Curtis. It matters very
little now whether he was sincere or not. It evidently was part
of his plan to keep it all secret till it was matured, and as
Curtis chose to ask him questions he was quite right to throw
dust in his eyes.




                            CHAPTER V.

The Catholic Relief Bill--Inconsistency of the Tories--The
  Catholic Association--Dinner at Charles Grant's--The Terceira
  Expedition--Tory Discontent--Peel resigns his Seat for Oxford
  University--A Blunder in Chancery--The Oxford Election--
  Influence of the Duke of Wellington--Debate of Royal Dukes--
  Peel beaten--Sir Edward Codrington--Violence of the King--
  Intrigues to defeat the Catholic Bill--The Duke of Cumberland--
  Furious State of Parties--Matuscewitz--Peel's Speech on
  Catholic Emancipation--Exclusion of O'Connell from his Seat for
  Clare--Pitt's View of Catholic Emancipation--'Musae
  Cateatonenses'--'Thorough'--Mr. Lowther not turned out--Duke of
  Newcastle's Audience of George IV.--The King's Personal
  Habits--The Debate--Mr. Sadler--Hardness of the Duke of
  Wellington--His Duel with Lord Winchelsea--The Bishops and the
  Bill--Sir Charles Wetherell--The King on the Duel--Lord
  Winchelsea's Pocket-handkerchief--Debate on the Catholic Bill--
  The Duke of Richmond--Effects of Dawson's Speech on the King--
  The Bill in Jeopardy--Lady Jersey and Lord Anglesey--Lord
  Falmouth and Lord Grey--O'Connell at Dinner--The Duke breaks
  with Lord Eldon--Hibner the Murderess--Theatrical Fund--The
  Levee--The Duke's Carriage stopped--The King's Health--Lady
  Conyngham--O'Connell's Seat--Child's Ball at Court--Princess
  Victoria--Legal Appointments--Lord Palmerston on Foreign
  Affairs--The King and Lord Sefton--The King's Speech on the
  Prorogation--Madame du Cayla--George IV.'s Inaccuracy--
  Conversation of the Duke of Wellington on the King and the Duke
  of Cumberland.


[Page Head: PEEL'S SPEECH ON THE CATHOLIC BILL.]

February 6th, 1829 {p.166}

Parliament met yesterday; a very full attendance and intense
interest and curiosity. The King's Speech, which was long and
better written than usual, was not quite satisfactory to the
Catholics. I met Lord Harrowby coming from the House of Lords,
and he said they did not like it at all; the previous suppression
of the Association was what they disliked. However, all
discontent was removed by Peel's speech, which was deemed (as to
the intentions of Ministers) perfectly satisfactory even by those
who were most prejudiced before against Government. I was in the
House of Commons. Peel was very feeble, and his case for himself
poor and ineffective; all he said was true enough, but it was
only what had been said to him over and over again for years
past, and he did not urge a single argument for acquiescing now
which was not equally applicable to his situation two years ago.
However, everybody was so glad to have the measure carried that
they did not care to attack Peel or his speech, though if there
had been a Brunswicker of any talent in the House he might have
cut it up finely; two or three of them spoke, but wretchedly ill,
and Lord Chandos was not at all violent, which I expected he
would have been. Lord Eldon was violent but impotent, in the
House of Lords, and Lord Bathurst made a sort of explanation
which was very poor.

On leaving the House of Commons I fell in with Burdett, Lord
Sefton, and G. Bentinck, and they all owned that the business is
very handsomely done; and Morpeth and many others whom I saw
afterwards at the Club are quite satisfied. They would have
preferred that the Catholic Relief Bill and the suppression of
the Association should have gone together, but do not make any
difficulties on this head, and acknowledge (which is the truth)
that the Duke was probably obliged to do something to cajole the
Tories, and give some colour to their conduct. I sat next to
Fitzgerald in the House, who is not yet re-elected, and he told
me that this was absolutely necessary. He was of course delighted
and said, 'How right Lord Francis was to trust to the Duke,'
which, however, is all nonsense. He had no reason to trust to him
at all, and I really believe would not have continued in office
as Irish Secretary unless he had adopted this measure. He owned
as Peel was speaking that he was not doing it well; he was feeble
and diffuse in the beginning, and too full of civilities and
appeals to Bankes and his old associates. However, thank God, the
event is accomplished, no matter how; probably it could not have
been done without the concurrence of these Tories, who have, I
think, certainly lost their character by their conduct; and there
is this evil in the history of the measure, that a blow will have
been given to the reputation of public men in general which will,
I strongly suspect, have an important though not immediate effect
upon the aristocratic influence in this country, and tend
remotely to increase the democratic spirit which exists. In all
these proceedings there has been so little of reason, principle,
or consistency; so much of prejudice, subserviency, passion, and
interest, that it is impossible not to feel a disgust to parties
in general. The conduct of those idiots the Brunswickers is
respectable in comparison with such men as the High Churchmen;
and the Whigs and Catholic supporters, however they may have
suffered before, in this matter stand clear and have only grounds
for exultation. They accept the measure with great moderation,
and are not disposed to mar the success of it by the introduction
of any topics likely to create ill blood, nor to damp the ardour
of new converts by throwing their former follies in their faces.

Now, then, the Duke is all-powerful, and of course he will get
all the honour of the day. Not that he does not deserve a great
deal for having made up his mind to the thing; he has managed it
with firmness, prudence, and dexterity; but to O'Connell and the
Association, and those who have fought the battle on both sides
of the water, the success of the measure is due. Indeed, Peel
said as much, for it was the Clare election which convinced both
him and the Duke that it must be done, and from that time the
only question was whether he should be a party to it or not. If
the Irish Catholics had not brought matters to this pass by
agitation and association, things might have remained as they
were for ever, and all these Tories would have voted on till the
day of their death against them.

Mahony, who is here, has written over to O'Connell, as have all
the other Catholics, to implore him to use his whole influence to
procure the dissolution of the Association, and it is said that
O'Connell had an idea of resigning his seat for Clare to Vesey,
on the ground that, having turned him out because he had joined a
Government hostile to their claims, he owed him this reparation
on finding it not to be the case. But I doubt whether this scheme
is practicable; still, I think if O'Connell could do it it would
be a good thing, and serve to reconcile the people here to him,
and give a great lift to his character. I expect to hear that the
Association has dissolved itself on receiving intelligence of the
proceedings in the House of Commons. Lord Anglesey spoke very
well, but nobody will care for his case now; besides, I doubt his
making out a good one. The fact is that they laid a trap for him,
and that he fell into it; that the Duke's letters became more
insulting, and that a prudent man would have avoided the snare
into which his high spirit and passion precipitated him.


[Page Head: DINNER AT CHARLES GRANT'S]

February 8th, 1829

Peel spoke on Friday night better than he did on Thursday.
Huskisson made a spiteful speech, and George Dawson one which I
heard Huskisson say he thought one of the neatest speeches he had
ever heard. I dined yesterday with all the Huskissonians at
Grant's. There were there Lords Granville, Palmerston, and
Melbourne, Huskisson, Warrender, and one or two more. Huskisson
is in good humour and spirits, but rather bitter; he said that if
Peel had asked the advice of a friend what he should do, the
advice would have been for his own honour to resign. I said I did
not think Peel would have got credit by resigning. He said, 'But
don't you think he has quite lost it by staying in?' He owned,
however, that the Duke could not have carried it without Peel,
that his influence with the Church party is so great that his
continuance was indispensable to the Duke.

This affair of the Portuguese at Terceira[1] (which certainly,
unless it can be explained, seems a gross outrage) they all fell
upon very severely, and Lord Harrowby told me afterwards he could
not understand it, and thought for the honour of the country it
should be explained forthwith.

      [1] [In December 1828 an expedition, consisting of 652
          Portuguese refugees of the party of the Queen, sailed
          from England for Terceira in four vessels, under the
          command of Count Saldanha. Terceira held for the Queen,
          and arms and ammunition had previously been sent them
          from England. The British Government ordered Captain
          Walpole, of the 'Ranger' to stop this expedition off
          Terceira, which he did by firing a gun into Saldanha's
          ship. The ground taken by the Duke of Wellington in
          defence of this measure was his resolution to maintain
          the neutrality of England between the two parties then
          contending for the Crown of Portugal. But the
          proceeding was vehemently attacked in Parliament and
          elsewhere.]

[Page Head: DISCONTENT OF THE TORIES.]

We are now beginning to discover different people's feelings
about this Catholic business, and it is clear that many of the
great Tories are deeply offended that the Duke was not more
communicative to them, principally, it seems, because they have
continued to talk in an opposite sense and in their old strain up
to the last moment, thereby committing themselves, and thus
becoming ridiculous by the sudden turn they are obliged to make.
This they cannot forgive, and many of them are extremely out of
humour, although not disposed to oppose the Duke. The Duke of
Rutland means to go to Belvoir, and not vote at all. The Duke of
Beaufort does not like it, but will support the measure. Lowther
has been to the King, and it is supposed he has resigned. They
complain that the Duke has thrown them over, still nobody doubts
that he will have great majorities in both Houses. It was
asserted most positively at Brookes' yesterday that Peel's offer
of resigning his seat at Oxford had been accepted. In Dublin the
moderate people are furious with O'Connell for his abuse of
everybody. There is no getting over the fact that he it is who
has brought matters to this conclusion, and that but for him the
Catholic question would never have been carried; but his
violence, bad taste, and scurrility have made him 'lose the
lustre of his former praise.'


February 9th, 1829 {p.179}

I called at Devonshire House in the morning, and there found
Princess Lieven very eloquent and very angry about the Terceira
business, which certainly requires explanation. She is very
hostile to the Duke, which is natural, as he is anti-Russian, and
they have never got over their old quarrel. Saldanha got up a
_coup de théâtre_ on board his ship. When Walpole fired on him a
man was killed, and when the English officer came on board he had
the corpse stretched out and covered by a cloak, which was
suddenly withdrawn, and Saldanha said, 'Voilà un fidèle sujet de
la Reine, qui a toujours été loyal, assassiné,' &c.

Went from thence to Mrs. Arbuthnot, who declaimed against
O'Connell and wants to have a provision in the Bill to prevent
his sitting for Clare, which I trust is only her folly, and that
there is no chance of such a thing. The Duke came in while I was
there. He said he had no doubt he should do very well in the
House of Lords, but up to that time he could only (that he knew
of for certain) reduce the majority of last year to twenty. He
did not count bishops, of whom he said he knew nothing, but the
three Irish bishops would vote with him. There were many others
he did not doubt would, but he could only count upon that number.
He held some proxies, which he said he would not make use of,
such as Lord Strangford's, as he could not hear from him in time,
and would not use anybody's proxy for this question who had voted
against it before. I told him how peevish the Duke of Rutland,
and Beaufort, and others of the High Tories were, but he only
laughed. In the evening Fitzgerald told me that the Convocation
at Oxford had accepted Peel's resignation of his seat for the
University, but left the time to him. It seems to me that this
affair was mismanaged. In the first instance Peel wrote to the
Dean of Christ Church, but he and Lloyd[2] agreed that he ought
to write to the Vice-Chancellor, which he did. The Vice-Chancellor
did not read his letter till after they had voted the address
to Parliament by three to one, after which it was difficult for
them to express anything but disapprobation of Peel's conduct;
whereas if the Vice-Chancellor had read it first, probably the
petition would not have been carried, or at any rate not by so
large a majority. He had better have carried his Bill through
and then resigned, when I have no doubt he would have been
re-elected; very likely he may be as it is.

      [2] [The Bishop of Oxford, one of Sir Robert Peel's most
          intimate friends.]

Tom Duncombe is going to make another appearance on the boards of
St. Stephen's, on the Terceira business, and he is to give notice
to-night. He has been with Palmella and Frederick Lamb, who are
both to assist in getting up his case, and he expects to be
supported by some of the Whigs and by the Huskissonians, which
latter are evidently anxious to do anything they can to embarrass
the Government. I know nothing of the case, which, _primâ facie_,
appears much against Government; but the moment is so ill-chosen,
in the midst of this great pending affair, that I think they will
make nothing of it. Palmella is a great fool for his pains, for
in clamouring against the Duke he is only kicking against the
pricks. As to Duncombe, he is egged on by Lambton and instructed
by Henry de Ros, who cares nothing about the matter, and only
does it for the fun of the thing. I have no idea but that
Duncombe must cut a sorry figure when he steps out of the line of
personal abuse and impertinence.


[Page Head: CATHOLIC RELIEF BILL.]

February 11th, 1829 {p.172}

Nothing is thought of or talked of but the Catholic question;
what Peers and bishops will vote for it? who voted before against
it? There is hardly any other feeling than that of satisfaction,
except on the part of the ultra-Tories, who do not attempt to
conceal their rage and vexation; the moderate Tories, who are
mortified at not having been told of what was going on; and
Huskisson's party, who would have been glad to have a share in
the business, and who now see themselves in all probability
excluded for ever. O'Connell arrived yesterday; it is supposed he
will not take his seat, but he does not seem inclined to
co-operate with Government in keeping things quiet. However, his
real disposition is not yet known, and probably he has not made
up his mind what to do, but waits for events. Notwithstanding the
declaration of the bishops, I do not believe they will vote
against Government. Peel spoke very well last night, and severely
trimmed old Bankes, which gives me great pleasure, so much do I
hate that old worn-out set. How this change of measures changes
one's whole way of thinking; though I have nothing to do with
politics, I cannot help being influenced to an extraordinary
degree by what has passed, and can understand from my own
feelings how those who are deeply engaged may be biassed by the
prejudices and attachments of party without any imputation
against their sincerity or judgment. When we see men pursuing a
course of which we greatly disapprove, all their actions and
motives are suspected by us, and _vice versâ_. We lend a willing
ear to imputations of vanity, interest, and other unworthy
motives, and when we cannot explain or comprehend the particulars
of men's conduct, we judge them unfavourably while we are opposed
to their measures; but when they do what we wish, we see the same
things very differently, and begin to hesitate about the justice
of our censures and the suspicions which we previously entertained.
It is pretty clear that the Duke will have a good majority in the
House of Lords, and that many Peers and bishops will find excuses
between this and then for voting with him or remaining neutral.

A ridiculous thing happened the other day in the Vice-Chancellor's
Court. Sugden had taken a brief on each side of a case without
knowing it. Home, who opened on one side and was followed by
another lawyer, was to be answered by Sugden; but he, having got
hold of the wrong brief, spoke the same way as Home. The
Vice-Chancellor said coolly, 'Mr. Sugden is with you?' 'Sir,'
said Home, 'his argument is with us, but he is engaged on the
other side.' Finding himself in a scrape, he said 'it was true he
held a brief for the other party, but for no client would he ever
argue against what he knew to be a clear rule of law.' However,
the Court decided against them all.


February 13th, 1829 {p.173}

Still the Catholic question and the probable numbers in the House
of Lords; nobody talks of anything else. Lord Winchelsea makes an
ass of himself, and would like to be sent to the Tower, but
nobody will mind anything such a blockhead says. Lord Holland
talks of a majority of sixty in the Lords. I walked with
Ebrington to O'Connell's door the other day; he went in. The next
day I asked him what had passed. He said that he had pressed him
strongly to dissolve the Association; O'Connell said he could not
press it himself, but would write to Ireland that it was the
unanimous opinion of all the friends of the cause here that it
should be done. The fact is, he does not dare to acquiesce in all
the measures of Government, though there is little doubt but that
he desires to see an end to associations and agitations. Lady
Jersey affects to be entirely in the Duke's confidence. She said
to Lord Granville at Madame de Lieven's the other night that 'she
made it a rule never to talk to the Duke about affairs in
public,' and she said to me last night that she had known what
was to be done about the Catholics all along. Certainly she
contrives to make the Duke see a great deal of her, for he calls
on her, and writes to her perpetually, but I doubt whether he
tells her much of anything. Some of the household have made a
struggle to be exempted from the general obligation on all
members of Government to vote for the Bill, but the Duke will not
stand it, and they must all vote or go out. The Privy Seal was
offered to Lord Westmoreland, but he refused, and his answer was
good--that if he had been in the Cabinet, he might possibly have
seen the same grounds for changing his mind on the Catholic
question that the other Ministers did; but not having had those
opportunities, he retained his former opinions, and therefore
could not accept office.


[Page Head: CATHOLIC RELIEF BILL.]

February 22nd, 1829 {p.174}

Went to Newmarket last Sunday and came back on Thursday. Still
the Catholic question and nothing else. Everybody believed that
the Duke of Cumberland would support Government till he made
this last speech. He went to the King, who desired him to call
on the Duke, and when he got to town he went uninvited to dine
with him. There has been nothing of consequence in either House,
except the dressing which Lord Plunket gave Lord Eldon, though
that hard-bitten old dog shows capital fight. Peel has got a
most active and intelligent committee at Oxford, and they
consider his election safe. Inglis's committee, on the contrary,
is composed of men not much better than old women, except Fynes
Clinton, the chairman. Every day the majority promises to be
greater in the House of Lords, but it is very ridiculous to see
the faces many of these Tory Lords make at swallowing the
bitter pill. Too great a noise is made about Peel and his
sacrifices, but he must be supported and praised at this
juncture. It is not for those who have been labouring in this
cause, and want his assistance, to reject him or treat him
uncivilly now that he tenders it. But as to the body of the High
Tories, it is impossible not to regard their conduct with
disgust and contempt, for now they feel only for themselves,
and it is not apprehension of those dangers they have been
constantly crying out about that affects them, but the necessity
they are under of making such a sudden turn, and bitter
mortification at having been kept in total ignorance, and,
consequently, having been led to hold the same violent language
up to the last moment. If Canning had lived, God knows what
would have happened, for they never would have turned round for
him as they are now about to do for the Duke. The circumstances
of the case are just the same; since 1825 the same game has been
going on in Ireland, and in the same manner, and the Clare
election was only what had happened at Waterford before. All
this has given a blow to the aristocracy, which men only laugh
at now, but of which the effects will be felt some day or other.
Who will have any dependence hereafter on the steadiness and
consistency of public men, and what credit will be given to
professions and declarations? I am glad to see them dragged
through the mire, as far as the individuals are concerned, but I
am sorry for the effect that such conduct is likely to produce.
There was a capital paper of Cobbett's yesterday, in his best
style. Many Liberals are uneasy about what are called the
securities, and when the Duke tells Lord Colchester that if he
will wait he will be satisfied with the Bill, it is enough to
make them so; but my hopes predominate over my fears. Yesterday
Vesey Fitzgerald said that 'we had not yet seen what some people
might consider the objectionable parts of the measure, but that,
though certain things might be necessary, the Government are
impressed with the paramount necessity of not leaving the
Catholic question behind them, and that the Duke was a man of
too firm a mind not to go through with it;' and I think he said
distinctly that Catholics and Protestants must be placed on an
equal footing, or something to that effect. He went off into a
panegyric on the Duke, and said that seeing him as he did for
several hours every day, he had opportunities of finding out
what an extraordinary man he was, and that it was remarkable
what complete ascendency he had acquired over all who were about
him. The English of this is (what everybody knew) that he
dictates to his Cabinet. The fact is, he is a man of great
energy, decision, and authority, and his character has been
formed by the events of his life, and by the extraordinary
circumstances which have raised him to a situation higher than
any subject has attained in modern times. That his great
influence is indispensable to carry this question, and therefore
most useful at this time, cannot be doubted, for he can address
the King in a style which no other Minister could adopt. He
treats with him as with an equal, and the King stands completely
in awe of him. It will be long before a correct and impartial
estimate is formed of the Duke's character and abilities; his
talents, however, must be of a very superior, though not of the
most shining description. Whatever he may be, he is at this
moment one of the most powerful Ministers this country has ever
seen. The greatest Ministers have been obliged to bend to the
King, or the aristocracy, or the Commons, but he commands them
all. M---- told me that he had not seen the King, but that he
heard he was as sulky as a bear, and that he was sure he would
be very glad if anything happened to defeat this measure, though
he is too much afraid of the Duke to do anything himself tending
to thwart it.

The Emperor of Russia is extremely disgusted at the language of
the newspapers here, and desired his Minister to complain of it,
and the Duke wrote the answer himself, in which he entered at
great length into the character and utility of the press in this
country, a dissertation affording a proof certainly of his
quickness and industry, overwhelmed as he is with business. The
Duke of Richmond offered to give up his Garter, but the Duke
would not take it back.


[Page Head: DEBATE OF THE ROYAL DUKES.]

February 26th, 1829 {p.177}

The debate on Monday night in the House of Lords was very
amusing. It was understood the Duke of Clarence was to speak, and
there was a good deal of curiosity to hear him. Lord Bathurst was
in a great fright lest he should be violent and foolish. He made
a very tolerable speech, of course with a good deal of stuff in
it, but such as it was it has exceedingly disconcerted the other
party. The three royal Dukes Clarence, Cumberland, and Sussex got
up one after another, and attacked each other (that is, Clarence
and Sussex attacked Cumberland, and he them) very vehemently, and
they used towards each other language that nobody else could have
ventured to employ; so it was a very droll scene. The Duke of
Clarence said the attacks on the Duke [of Wellington] had been
_infamous_; the Duke of Cumberland took this to himself, but when
he began to answer it could not recollect the expression, which
the Duke of Clarence directly supplied. 'I said "infamous."' The
Duke of Sussex said that the Duke of Clarence had not intended to
apply the word to the Duke of Cumberland, but if he chose to take
it to himself he might. Then the Duke of Clarence said that the
Duke of Cumberland had lived so long abroad that he had forgotten
there was such a thing as freedom of debate.


February 27th, 1829 {p.177}

They say Plunket made one of the best speeches he ever delivered
last night, and Lord Anglesey spoke very well. There was hardly
anybody in the House. Peel's election [Oxford University] is
going on ill. The Convocation presents a most disgraceful scene
of riot and uproar. I went to the Committee Room last night at
twelve, and found nobody there but Dr. Russell, the head-master
of the Charterhouse, who was waiting for Hobhouse and amusing
himself by correcting his boys' exercises. He knew me, though he
had not seen me for nearly twenty years, when I was at school. I
shall be sorry if Peel does not come in, not that I care much for
him, but because I cannot bear that his opponents should have a
triumph.

Lady Georgiana Bathurst told me she had had a great scene with
the Duke of Cumberland. She told him not to be factious and to go
back to Germany; he was very angry, and after much argument and
many reproaches they made it up, embraced, and he shed a flood of
tears.

I met with these lines in 'The Duke of Milan' (Massinger), which
are very applicable to the Duke in his dealings with his Cabinet
and his old friends the Tories:--

      You never heard the motives that induced him
      To this strange course? No; these are cabinet councils,
      And not to be communicated but
      To such as are his own and sure. Alas!
      We fill up empty places, and in public
      Are taught to give our suffrages to that
      Which was before determined.


March 1st, 1829 {p.178}

As the time draws near for the development of the plans of
Government a good deal of uneasiness and doubt prevails, though
the general disposition is to rely on the Duke of Wellington's
firmness and decision and to hope for the best. Peel's defeat at
Oxford,[3] though not likely to have any effect on the general
measure, is unlucky, because it serves to animate the anti-Catholics;
and had he succeeded, his success would have gone far to silence,
as it must have greatly discouraged, them. Then the King gives
the Ministers uneasiness, for the Duke of Cumberland has been
tampering with him, and through the agency of Lord Farnborough
great attempts have been made to induce him to throw obstacles in
the way of the measures. He is very well inclined, and there is
nothing false or base he would not do if he dared, but he is such
a coward, and stands in such awe of the Duke, that I don't think
anything serious is to be apprehended from him. There never was
anything so mismanaged as the whole affair of Oxford. First the
letter Peel wrote was very injudicious; it was a tender of
resignation, which being received just after the vote of
Convocation, they were obliged to accept it. Then he should
never have stood unless he had been sure of success, and it
appears now that his canvass never promised well from the
beginning. He should have taken the Chiltern Hundreds, and
immediately informed them that he had done so. Probably no
opposition would have been made, but after having accepted his
resignation they could not avoid putting up another man. It
appears that an immense number of parsons came to vote of whose
intentions both parties were ignorant, and they almost all voted
for Inglis.

      [3] [Upon the 4th of February Mr. Peel resigned his seat
          for the University of Oxford, in consequence of the
          change of his opinions on the Catholic question. A
          contest ensued, Sir Robert Harry Inglis being the
          candidate opposed to Peel. Inglis was returned by a
          majority of 146. Mr. Peel sat for the borough of
          Westbury during the ensuing debates.]

[Page Head: SIR E. CODRINGTON AND THE DUKE.]

Codrington was at Brookes' yesterday, telling everybody who would
listen to him what had passed at an interview, that I have
mentioned before, with the Duke of Wellington, and how ill the
Duke had treated him. He said the Duke assured him that neither
he nor any of his colleagues, nor the Government collectively,
had any sort of hostility to him, but, on the contrary, regarded
him as a very meritorious officer, &c. He then said, 'May I,
then, ask why I was recalled?' The Duke said, 'Because you did
not understand your instructions in the sense in which they were
intended by us.' He replied that he had understood them in their
plain obvious sense, and that everybody else who had seen them
understood them in the same way--Adam, Ponsonby, Guilleminot,
&c.--and then he asked the Duke to point out the passages in
which they differed, to which he said, 'You must excuse me.' All
this he was telling, and it may be very true, and that he is very
ill-used; but if he means to bring his case before Parliament, he
is unwise to chatter about it at Brookes', particularly to Lord
Lynedoch, to whom he was addressing himself, who is not likely to
take part with him against the Duke.


March 2nd, 1829 {p.179}

Saw M---- yesterday; he has been at Windsor for several days, and
confirmed all that I had heard before about the King. The Duke of
Cumberland has worked him into a state of frenzy, and he talks of
nothing but the Catholic question in the most violent strain.
M---- told me that his Majesty desired him to tell his household
that he wished them to vote against the Bill, which M---- of
course refused to do. I asked him if he had told the Duke of
Wellington this; he said he had not, but that the day the
Ministers came to Windsor for the Council (Thursday last, I
think) he did speak to Peel, and told him the King's violence was
quite alarming. Peel said he was afraid the King was greatly
excited, or something to this effect, but seemed embarrassed and
not very willing to talk about it. The result, however, was that
the Duke went to him on Friday, and was with him six hours, and
spoke to his Majesty so seriously and so firmly that he will now
be quiet. Why the Duke does not insist upon his not seeing the
Duke of Cumberland I cannot imagine. There never was such a man,
or behaviour so atrocious as his--a mixture of narrow-mindedness,
selfishness, truckling, blustering, and duplicity, with no object
but self, his own ease, and the gratification of his own fancies
and prejudices, without regard to the advice and opinion of the
wisest and best informed men or to the interests and tranquillity
of the country.


March 3rd, 1829 {p.180}

Called on H. de Ros yesterday morning, who told me that the Duke
of Cumberland and his party are still active and very sanguine.
Madame de Lieven is in all his confidence, who, out of hatred to
the Duke, would do anything to contribute to his overthrow. The
Duke of Cumberland tells her everything, and makes her a medium
of communication with the Huskisson party, who, being animated by
similar sentiments towards the Duke, the Tories think would
gladly join them in making a party when the way is clear for
them. The Chancellor went to Windsor on Sunday, and on to
Strathfieldsaye at night, where he arrived at three in the
morning. Yesterday the Duke came to town, but called at Windsor
on his way. Dawson, however, told me that he believed the Duke in
_his_ interview on Friday had settled everything with the King,
and had received most positive assurances from him that no
further difficulties should be made; but it is quite impossible
to trust him.


[Page Head: CATHOLIC RELIEF BILL.]

March 4th, 1829 {p.180}

Nothing could exceed the consternation which prevailed yesterday
about this Catholic business. The advocates of the Bill and
friends of Government were in indescribable alarm, and not
without good cause. All yesterday it was thought quite uncertain
whether the Duke's resignation would not take place, and the
Chancellor himself said that nothing was more likely than that
they should all go out. On Sunday the King sent for the
Chancellor; he went, and had an audience in which the King
pretended that he had not been made aware of all the provisions
of the Bill, that the securities did not satisfy him, and that he
could not consent to it. The Chancellor could do nothing
with him; so instead of returning to town he went on to
Strathfieldsaye, where the Duke was gone to receive the Judges.
There he arrived at three in the morning, had a conference of two
hours with the Duke, and returned to town quite exhausted, to be
in the House of Lords at ten in the morning. The Duke called at
Windsor on his way to town on Monday, and had a conversation with
the King, in which he told him it was now impossible for him to
recede, and that if his Majesty made any more difficulties he
must instantly resign. The King said he thought he would not
desert him under any circumstances, and tried in vain to move
him, which not being able to do, he said that he must take a day
to consider his final determination, and would communicate it.
This he did yesterday afternoon, and he consented to let the Bill
go on. There was a Cabinet in the morning, and another in the
evening, the latter about the details of the Bill, for Francis
Leveson and Doherty were both present.

I met Lord Grey at dinner, and in the evening at Brookes' had a
great deal of conversation with Scarlett, Duncannon, and Spring
Rice. They are all much alarmed, and think the case full of
difficulties, not only from the violence and wavering of the
King, but from the great objections which so many people have to
the alteration of the elective franchise. Duncannon says nothing
shall induce him to support it, and he would rather defeat the
whole measure than consent to it; Spring Rice, on the contrary,
is ready to swallow anything to get Emancipation. The object of
the anti-Catholics is to take advantage of this disunion and of
the various circumstances which throw difficulties in the way of
Government, and they think, by availing themselves of them
dexterously, they will be able to defeat the measure. They all
seem to think that the Oxford election has been attended with
most prejudicial effects to the cause. It has served for an
argument to the Cumberland faction with the King, and has
influenced his Majesty very much.

Huskisson made a speech last night which must put an end to any
hopes of assistance to the Opposition from him and his party,
which it is probable they looked to before, and I dare say the
Duke of Cumberland has held out such hopes to the King. The
correspondence between the Duke of Wellington and the Duke of
Cumberland was pretty violent, I believe, but the Duke of
Cumberland misrepresents what passed both in it and at their
interview. He declared to the Duke that he would not interfere in
any manner, but refused to leave the country; to Madame de Lieven
he said that the Duke had tried everything--entreaties, threats,
and bribes--but that he had told him he would not go away, and
would do all he could to defeat his measures, and that if he were
to offer him £100,000 to go to Calais he would not take it. The
degree of agitation, alternate hopes and fears, and excitement of
every kind cannot be conceived unless seen and mixed in as I see
and mix in it. Spring Rice said last night he thought those next
four days to come would be the most important in the history of
the country of any for ages past, and so they are. I was told
last night that Knighton has been co-operating with the Duke of
Cumberland, and done a great deal of mischief, and that he has
reason to think that K. is intriguing deeply, with the design of
expelling the Conyngham family from Windsor. This I do not
believe, and it seems quite inconsistent with what I am also
told--that the King's dislike of Knighton, and his desire of
getting rid of him, is just the same, and that no day passes that
he does not offer Mount Charles Knighton's place, and, what is
more, that Knighton presses him to take it.


March 5th, 1829 {p.182}

Great alarm again yesterday because the Duke, the Chancellor, and
Peel went down to Windsor again. Dined at Prince Lieven's. In the
evening we learned that everything was settled--that as soon as
the King found the Duke would really leave him unless he gave
way, he yielded directly, and that if the Duke had told him so at
first he would not have made all this bother. The Duke of
Cumberland was there (at Lieven's), but did not stay long. I sat
next to Matuscewitz (the Russian who is come over on a special
mission to assist Lieven), and asked him if he did not think we
were a most extraordinary people, and seeing all that goes on, as
he must do, without any prejudices about persons or things, if it
was not marvellous to behold the violence which prevailed in the
Catholic discussion. He owned that it was inconceivable, and,
notwithstanding all he had heard and read of our history for some
years past, he had no idea that so much rage and animosity could
have been manifested and that the anti-Popery spirit was still so
vigorous. The day, however, is at last arrived, and to-night the
measure will be introduced. But the Duke of Cumberland and his
faction by no means abandon all hopes of being able to throw over
the Bill in its progress, and they will leave no stone unturned
to effect their purpose and to work on the King's mind while it
is going on.


[Page Head: CATHOLIC RELIEF BILL.]

March 6th, 1829

Peel brought on the Catholic question last night in a speech of
four hours, and said to be far the best he ever made. It is full
of his never-failing fault, egotism, but certainly very able,
plain, clear, and statesmanlike, and the peroration very
eloquent. The University of Oxford should have been there in a
body to hear the member they have rejected and him whom they have
chosen in his place. The House was crammed to suffocation, and
the lobby likewise. The cheering was loud and frequent, and often
burst upon the impatient listener without. I went to Brookes' and
found them all just come from the House, full of satisfaction at
Peel's speech and the liberality of the measure, and in great
admiration of Murray's. The general disposition seemed to be to
support both the Bills, and they argued justly who said that
those who would have supported the whole measure if it had been
in one Bill ought not to take advantage of there being two to
oppose the one they dislike. The part that is the most objectionable
is making the measure so far prospective ('hereafter to be
elected') as to exclude O'Connell from Clare, more particularly
after the decision of the Committee in his favour. Six weeks ago
Mrs. Arbuthnot told me that it was intended to exclude him, but I
did not believe her. It seemed to me too improbable, and I never
thought more about it. If they persist in this it is nothing
short of madness, and I agree with Spring Rice, who said last
night that instead of excluding him you should pay him to come
into Parliament, and rather buy a seat for him than let him
remain out. If they keep him out it can only be from wretched
motives of personal spite, and to revenge themselves on him for
having compelled them to take the course they have adopted. The
imprudence of this exception is obvious, for when pacification is
your object, and to heal old wounds your great desire, why begin
by opening new ones and by exasperating the man who has the
greatest power of doing mischief and creating disturbance and
discontent in Ireland? It is desirable to reconcile the Irish to
the measures of disfranchisement, and to allow as much time as
possible to elapse before the new system comes into practical
operation. By preventing O'Connell from taking his seat
his wrongs are identified with those of the disfranchised
freeholders. He will have every motive for exasperating the
public mind and exciting universal dissatisfaction, and there
will be another Clare election, and a theatre for the display of
every angry passion which interest or revenge can possibly put in
action. It is remarkable that attacks, I will not say upon the
Church, but upon Churchmen, are now made in both Houses with much
approbation. The Oxford parsons behaved so abominably at the
election that they have laid themselves open to the severest
strictures, and last night Lord Wharncliffe in one House and
Murray in the other commented on the general conduct of Churchmen
at this crisis with a severity which was by no means displeasing
except to the bishops. I am convinced that very few years will
elapse before the Church will really be in danger. People will
grow tired of paying so dearly for so bad an article.


[Page Head: DIVISION ON THE CATHOLIC RELIEF BILL.]

March 8th, 1829 {p.185}

Yesterday the list came out of those who had voted on the
Catholic question, by which it appeared that several people had
voted against the Government (particularly all the Lowthers) who
were expected to vote with them, and of course this will be a
test by which the Duke's strength and absoluteness may be tried,
so much so that it is very generally thought that if he permits
them to vote with impunity he will lose the question. It was said
in the evening that Lowther and Birkett had resigned, but Lord
Aberdeen, whom I met at dinner, said they had not at five o'clock
yesterday evening. It is, I think, impossible for the Duke to
excuse anybody who votes against him or stays away. Dined at Agar
Ellis's and met Harrowbys, Stanleys, Aberdeen, &c. Lord Harrowby
thought Peel's speech extremely able and judicious. He said that
Lord Eldon had asserted that Mr. Pitt's opinions had been changed
on this question, which was entirely false, for he had been much
more intimate with Mr. Pitt than Lord Eldon ever was, and had
repeatedly discussed the question with him, and had never found
the slightest alteration in his sentiments. He had deprecated
bringing it on because at that moment he was convinced that it
would have driven the King mad and raised a prodigious ferment in
England. He talked a great deal of Fox and Pitt, and said that
the natural disposition of the former was to arbitrary power and
that of the latter to be a reformer, so that circumstances drove
each into the course the other was intended for by nature. Lord
North's letter to Fox when he dismissed him in 1776 was, 'The
King has ordered a new commission of the Treasury to be made out,
in which I do not see your name.' How dear this cost him and what
an influence that note may have had on the affairs of the country
and on Fox's subsequent life! They afterwards talked of the
'Cateatonenses' written by Canning, Frere, and G. Ellis. Lady
Morley has a copy, which I am to see.[4]

      [4] [The 'Musae Cateatonenses,' a burlesque narrative of a
          supposed expedition of Mr. George Legge to Cateaton
          Street in search of a Swiss chapel. Nothing can be more
          droll. The only copy I have seen is still at Saltram.
          This _jeu d'esprit_ (which fills a volume) was composed
          by Canning and his friends one Easter recess they spent
          at Ashbourne.]


March 9th, 1829 {p.186}

It was reported last night that there had been a compromise with
Lowther, who is to retain his seat and to vote for the Bill in
all its other stages. But he dined at Crockford's, and told
somebody there that he had tendered his resignation and had
received no answer. I do not understand this indecision; they
must deprive those who will not support them thoroughly.
'Thorough,' as Laud and Strafford used to say, must be their
word.

_Evening._--I asked Lord Bathurst to-day if Lowther, &c., were
out, and he said nothing had been done about it, that there was
plenty of time. Afterwards met Mrs. Arbuthnot in the Park, and
turned back with her. She was all against their being turned out,
from which I saw that they are to stay in. We met Gosh, and I
walked with them to the House of Commons. We renewed the subject,
and he said that he had been just as much as I could be for the
adoption of strong measures, but that the great object was to
carry the Bill, and if the Duke did not act with the greatest
prudence and caution it would still be lost. He hinted that the
difficulties with the King are still great, and that he is in a
state of excitement which alarms them lest he should go mad. It
is pretty clear that the Duke cannot venture to turn them out. In
the meantime the Duke of Cumberland continues at work. Lord
Bathurst told me that he went to Windsor on Saturday, that he had
assured the King that great alarm prevailed in London, that the
people were very violent, and that the Duke had been hissed by
the mob in going to the House of Lords, all of which of course he
believes. The Duke is very unwell. I think matters do not look at
all well, and I am alarmed.


[Page Head: CATHOLIC RELIEF BILL.]

March 11th, 1829 {p.186}

The Duke was much better yesterday, went to the House, and made a
very good and stirring speech in answer to Lord Winchelsea, who
disgusted all his own party by announcing himself an advocate for
reform in Parliament. It is now clear that Lowther, &c., are not
to quit their places unless something fresh occurs. The reason
supposed is that the King supports them, and that the Duke does
not venture to insist on their dismissal. The real reason is that
he has got an idea that the Whigs want to make him quarrel with
his old friends in order to render him more dependent upon them,
and he is therefore anxious (as he thinks he can) to carry
through the measure without quarrelling with anybody, so that he
will retain the support of the Tories and show the Whigs that he
can do without them, a notion which is unfounded, besides being
both unwise and illiberal. He has already given some persons to
understand that they _must_ support him on this question, and now
he is going to grant a dispensation to others, nor is there any
necessity for _quarrelling_ with anybody. Lowther himself
evidently felt that he could not hold his office and oppose the
measure, and consequently resigned. The Duke might accept his
resignation with a very friendly explanation on the subject;
eventually he would be certain to join Government again, for to
what other party could he betake himself? These great Tory
borough-mongering Lords have no taste for opposition. Arbuthnot
told my father that this was his feeling, and when I told Mrs.
Arbuthnot what a bad moral effect the Duke's lenity had, she
said, 'Oh, you hear that from the Opposition.' Last night in his
speech, when he said he had the cordial support of his Majesty,
he turned round with energy to the Duke of Cumberland. Several
Peers upon one pretext or another have withdrawn the support they
had intended to give to the Duke's Bill. Fourteen Irish bishops
are coming over in a body to petition the King against this Bill,
and most foolish they. The English bishops may by possibility be
sincere and disinterested in their opposition (not that I believe
they are), but nobody will ever believe that the Irish think of
anything but their scandalous revenues. The thing must go; the
only question is when and how. The Kent petition to the King is
to be presented, I believe, by Lords Winchelsea and Bexley; they
would not entrust it to Peel. Lord W. wanted to march down to
Windsor at the head of 25,000 men.


March 14th, 1829 {p.188}

Arbuthnot told the Duke what was said about not turning out the
refractory members, and he replied, 'I have undertaken this
business, and I am determined to go through with it. Nobody knows
the difficulties I have in dealing with my royal master, and
nobody knows him so well as I do. I will succeed, but I am as in
a field of battle, and I must fight it out my own way.' This
would be very well if there were not other motives mixed up with
this--jealousy of the Whigs and a desire to keep clear of them,
and quarrel with them again when this is over. Herries told Hyde
Villiers that _their_ policy was conservative, that of the Whigs
subversive, and that they never could act together. All false,
for nobody's policy is subversive who has much to lose, and the
Whigs comprise the great mass of property and a great body of the
aristocracy of the country. Nobody seems to doubt that the Bill
will pass. The day before yesterday the Duke of Newcastle went to
Windsor and had an audience. Lord Bathurst told me that they had
reason to believe his Grace had told the King his own sentiments
on the Catholic question, but that the King had made no answer.
But as nobody was present they could not depend on the truth of
this (which they had from his Majesty himself, of course), and he
begged me to find out what account the Duke gave of it.


March 15th, 1829 {p.188}

The Duke of Newcastle was with the King an hour and a half or two
hours. After he had presented his petitions he pulled out a
paper, which he read to the King. His Majesty made him no answer,
and desired him if he had any other communications to make to him
to send them through the Duke of Wellington. I dare say this is
true, not because he says so, but because there has been no
notice taken of the Duke's visit in any of the newspapers. They
now talk of thirteen bishops, and probably more, voting with
Government. I suppose the majority will be very large.


[Page Head: PERSONAL HABITS OF GEORGE IV.]

March 16th to 17th, 1829

I received a message from the King, to tell me that he was sorry
I had not dined with him the last time I was at Windsor, that he
had intended to ask me, but finding that all the Ministers dined
there except Ellenborough, he had let me go, that Ellenborough
might not be the only man not invited, and 'he would be damned if
Ellenborough ever should dine in his house.' I asked Lord
Bathurst afterwards, to whom I told this, why he hated Ellenborough,
and he said that something he had said during the Queen's trial
had given the King mortal offence, and he never forgave it. The
King complains that he is tired to death of all the people about
him. He is less violent about the Catholic question, tired of
that too, and does not wish to hear any more about it. He leads a
most extraordinary life--never gets up till six in the afternoon.
They come to him and open the window curtains at six or seven
o'clock in the morning; he breakfasts in bed, does whatever
business he can be brought to transact in bed too, he reads every
newspaper quite through, dozes three or four hours, gets up in
time for dinner, and goes to bed between ten and eleven. He
sleeps very ill, and rings his bell forty times in the night; if
he wants to know the hour, though a watch hangs close to him, he
will have his _valet de chambre_ down rather than turn his head
to look at it. The same thing if he wants a glass of water; he
won't stretch out his hand to get it. His valets are nearly
destroyed, and at last Lady Conyngham prevailed on him to agree
to an arrangement by which they wait on him on alternate days.
The service is still most severe, as on the days they are in
waiting their labours are incessant, and they cannot take off
their clothes at night, and hardly lie down. He is in good
health, but irritable, and has been horribly annoyed by other
matters besides the Catholic affair.


March 18th, 1829 {p.189}

I was at Windsor for the Council and the Recorder's report. We
waited above two hours; of course his Majesty did not get up till
we were all there. A small attendance in Council--the Duke,
Bathurst, Aberdeen, Melville, and I think no other Cabinet
Minister. I sent for Batchelor, the King's _valet de chambre_,
and had a pretty long conversation with him; he talked as if the
walls had ears, but was anxious to tell me everything. He
confirmed all I had before heard of the King's life, and said he
was nearly dead of it, that he was in high favour, and the King
had given him apartments in the Lodge and some presents. His
Majesty has been worried to death, and has not yet made up his
mind to the Catholic Bill (this man knows, I'll be bound). But
what he most dwelt on was Sir William Knighton. I said to him
that the King was afraid of the Duke. He replied he thought not;
he thought he was afraid of nobody but of Knighton, that he hated
him, but that his influence and authority were without any limit,
that he could do anything, and without him nothing could be done;
that after him Lady Conyngham was all-powerful, but in entire
subserviency to him; that she did not dare have anybody to dine
there without previously ascertaining that Knighton would not
disapprove of it; that he knew everything, and nobody dared say
or do a thing of any sort without his permission. There was a
sort of mysterious awe with which he spoke of Knighton, mixed
with dislike, which was curious. He is to call on me when he
comes to London, and will, I dare say, tell me more. Returned to
town at night, and heard of Sadler's speech[5] and read it. It is
certainly very clever, but better as reported than as it was
delivered. He sent the report to the 'Morning Journal' himself,
and added some things and omitted others, and thereby improved
it. He is sixty-seven years old, and it is his maiden speech;
certainly very remarkable and indicative of much talent. Lord
Harrowby told me he heard it, and was greatly struck by it.

      [5] [Mr. Sadler, who had never sat in Parliament before,
          was returned by the Duke of Newcastle at this time for
          the express purpose of opposing the Catholic Relief
          Bill, which he did with considerable ability.]


[Page Head: DEBATE ON THE CATHOLIC BILL.]

March 19th, 1829 {p.190}

Last night the debate ended, with a very excellent speech from
Robert Grant,[6] and a speech from Lord Palmerston which
astonished everybody. The Attorney-General was violent and
brutal, and Peel's reply very good; he was bursting with passion,
but restrained himself. I met Tierney, and told him that there
was great disappointment that he had not answered Sadler. He said
he could not speak for coughing, that Sadler's speech was clever,
but over-rated, nothing like so good as they talked of. Robert
Grant's was very good indeed, the best for matter; Palmerston's
the most brilliant, 'an imitation of Canning, and not a bad one.'
Though the Opposition gained eight in this division, they are
disappointed and disheartened, and will make but little fight on
the other stages (as it is thought). Nine bishops are to vote.
The meeting at Lambeth took place the day before yesterday, but
it came to nothing. They separated agreeing to meet again, and in
the meantime that each should take his own line. Tierney talked
of the Duke's management of this business with great admiration,
as did Lord Durham last night in the same strain; but after all
what was it but the resolution of secresy (which I think was a
most wise and judicious one)? for he did nothing but keep the
secret. However, the thing has been well imagined and well
executed. Tierney thinks Peel will resign when it is all over,
and at his father's death will be made a Peer. I should not
wonder; he must be worn to death with the torrents of abuse and
invective with which his old friends assail him on every
occasion. I presume that if he could have anticipated their
conduct he would not have been so civil to them in the beginning,
and would have taken another turn altogether; it would have been
better for him. Lady Worcester told me to-day what adds to many
other proofs that the Duke is a very _hard_ man; he takes no
notice of any of his family; he never sees his mother, has only
visited her two or three times in the last few years; and has not
now been to see Lady Anne, though she has been in such affliction
for the death of her only son, and he passes her door every time
he goes to Strathfieldsaye. He is well with Lady Maryborough,
though they quarrelled after Lord M. was driven from the Cabinet;
Lord Wellesley is seriously affronted with him at the little
consideration the Duke shows for him, and for having shown him no
confidence in all this business, especially as the Catholic
question was the only political difference that existed between
them. He is a very extraordinary man certainly, and with many
contradictions in his character; in him, however, they are so
much more apparent than in any other man, for he is always before
the world--all his actions, his motives, and even his thoughts.

      [6] [Robert Grant, Esq., M.P., brother of Mr. Charles
          Grant. He was afterwards appointed Governor of Bombay.]


[Page Head: DUEL OF THE DUKE AND LORD WINCHELSEA.]

March 21st, 1829, at night {p.192}

This morning the Duke fought a duel with Lord Winchelsea. Nothing
could equal the astonishment caused by this event. Everybody of
course sees the matter in a different light; all blame Lord W.,
but they are divided as to whether the Duke ought to have fought
or not. Lord W.'s letter appeared last Monday, and certainly from
that time to this it never entered into anybody's head that the
Duke ought to or would take it up, though the expressions in it
were very impertinent. But Lord Winchelsea is such a maniac, and
has so lost his head (besides the ludicrous incident of the
handkerchief[7]), that everybody imagined the Duke would treat
what he said with silent contempt. He thought otherwise, however,
and without saying a word to any of his colleagues or to anybody
but Hardinge, his second, he wrote and demanded an apology. After
many letters and messages between the parties (Lord Falmouth
being Lord Winchelsea's second) Lord Winchelsea declined making
any apology, and they met. The letters on the Duke's part are
very creditable, so free from arrogance or an assuming tone;
those on Lord Winchelsea's not so, for one of them is a senseless
repetition of the offence, in which he says that if the Duke will
deny that his allegations are true he will apologise. They met at
Wimbledon at eight o'clock. There were many people about, who saw
what passed. They stood at a distance of fifteen paces. Before
they began Hardinge went up to Lords Winchelsea and Falmouth, and
said he must protest against the proceeding, and declare that
their conduct in refusing an apology when Lord Winchelsea was so
much in the wrong filled him with disgust. The Duke fired and
missed, and then Winchelsea fired in the air. He immediately
pulled out of his pocket the paper which has since appeared, but
in which the word 'apology' was omitted. The Duke read it and
said it would not do. Lord Falmouth said he was not come there to
quibble about words, and that he was ready to make the apology in
whatever terms would be satisfactory, and the word 'apology' was
inserted on the ground. The Duke then touched his hat, said 'Good
morning, my Lords,' mounted his horse, and rode off. Hume was
there, without knowing on whose behalf till he got to the ground.
Hardinge asked him to attend, and told him where he would find a
chaise, into which he got. He found there pistols, which told him
the errand he was on, but he had still no notion the Duke was
concerned; when he saw him he was ready to drop. The Duke went to
Mrs. Arbuthnot's as soon as he got back, and at eleven o'clock
she wrote a note to Lord Bathurst, telling him of it, which he
received at the Council board and put into my hands. So little
idea had he of Lord Winchelsea's letter leading to anything
serious that when on Wednesday, at the Council at Windsor, I
asked him if he had read it, he said, laughing, 'Yes, and it is a
very clever letter, much the wisest thing he ever did; _he has
got back his money_. I wish I could find some such pretext to get
back mine.' At twelve o'clock the Duke went to Windsor to tell
the King what had happened. Winchelsea is abused for not having
made an apology when it was first required; but I think, having
committed the folly of writing so outrageous a letter, he did the
only thing a man of honour could do in going out and receiving a
shot and then making an apology, which he was all this time
prepared to do, for he had it ready written in his pocket. I
think the Duke ought not to have challenged him; it was very
juvenile, and he stands in far too high a position, and his life
is so much _publica cura_ that he should have treated him and his
letter with the contempt they merited; it was a great error in
judgment, but certainly a venial one, for it is impossible not to
admire the high spirit which disdained to shelter itself behind
the immunities of his great character and station, and the
simplicity, and almost humility, which made him at once descend
to the level of Lord Winchelsea, when he might, without
subjecting himself to any imputation derogatory to his honour,
have assumed a tone of lofty superiority and treated him as
unworthy of his notice. Still it was beneath his dignity; it
lowered him, and was more or less ridiculous. Lord Jersey met him
coming from Windsor, and spoke to him. He said, 'I could not do
otherwise, could I?'

      [7] [The incident of the handkerchief is related below, p.
          198 (March 29th, 1829).]

I met the Bishop of Oxford in the Park this morning; he said nine
bishops, and probably ten, would vote for the Bill. He said he
was not at the meeting at Lambeth, but the Archbishop sent for
him, and despatched him to the Duke with an account of their
proceedings. The Archbishop summoned the bishops to consult upon
the course they should pursue, and see if there was any chance of
their acting with unanimity. Finding this was not possible, they
resolved that each should take his own line; and a proposal to
address the King, which was urged by one or two of the most
violent (he did not name them), was overruled. The anti-Catholic
papers and men lavish the most extravagant encomiums on
Wetherell's speech, and call it 'the finest oration ever
delivered in the House of Commons,' 'the best since the second
Philippic.' He was drunk, they say. The Speaker said 'the only
lucid interval he had was that between his waistcoat and his
breeches.' When he speaks he unbuttons his braces, and in his
vehement action his breeches fall down and his waistcoat runs up,
so that there is a great interregnum. He is half mad, eccentric,
ingenious, with great and varied information and a coarse, vulgar
mind, delighting in ribaldry and abuse, besides being an
enthusiast. The first time he distinguished himself was in
Watson's trial, when he and Copley were his counsel, and both
made very able speeches. He was then a trading lawyer and
politician, till the Queen came over, when he made a very
powerful speech in the House of Commons, full of research, in
favour of inserting her name in the Liturgy. He was then engaged
by Chancellor Eldon for the Court, soon after made Solicitor-General,
much abused for ratting, became Attorney-General, and resigned
when Canning became Minister. He was restored when the Duke was
made Prime Minister, and now he will have to retire again.


[Page Head: THE KING ON THE DUEL.]

March 26th, 1829 {p.195}

Everything is getting on very quietly in the House of Commons,
and the Opposition are beginning to squabble among themselves,
some wishing to create delay, and others not choosing to join in
these tricks, when they know it is useless. The Duke came here
the night before last, but I was not at home. He talked over the
whole matter with his usual simplicity. The King, it seems, was
highly pleased with the Winchelsea affair, and he said, 'I did
not see the letter (which is probably a lie); if I had, I
certainly should have thought it my duty to call your attention
to it.' Somebody added that 'he would be wanting to fight a duel
himself.' Sefton said, 'he will be sure to think he has fought
one.' Hume gave the two Lords a lecture on the ground after the
duel, and said he did not think there was a man in England who
would have lifted his hand against the Duke. Very uncalled for,
but the Duke's friends have less humility than he has, for Lord
Winchelsea did not lift his hand against him. It is curious that
the man who threw the bottle at Lord Wellesley in Dublin (and who
is a Protestant fanatic) has been lurking constantly about the
House of Lords, so much so that it was thought right to apprise
Peel of it, and the police have been desired in consequence to
keep a strict watch over him, and to take care that he does no
mischief. The Duke after the duel sent Lord Melville to the Duke
of Montrose with a message that his son-in-law had behaved very
much like a gentleman. The women, particularly of course Lady
Jersey, have been very ridiculous, affecting nervousness and fine
feeling, though they never heard of the business till some hours
after it was over. Mrs. Arbuthnot was not so foolish but made
very light of it all, which was in better sense and better taste.

M---- told me two days ago that, although he is more quiet, the
King is not at all reconciled to the Catholic question. His
Majesty was very much annoyed at his speech the other day, having
always hoped that he was at heart too indifferent about it to
take a decided line or express publicly a strong opinion. It is
supposed that either Sugden or Alderson will be Solicitor-General.
O'Connell has done himself great credit by his moderation in the
Committee. Grattan wanted to move an amendment omitting the words
by which O'Connell is excluded from taking his seat for Clare,
when Rice and Duncannon begged him to withdraw it, and said they
were charged with the expression of O'Connell's wish that his
individual case should not be thought of, as he would not have it
be any impediment to the success of the measure. This, of course,
greatly annoys those who have inveighed against him, and who have
always contended that he only wished for confusion, and would be
very sorry to see the question settled.

The other day Jack Lawless[8] called on Arbuthnot to ask him some
question about the Deccan prize money, in which a brother of his
has an interest. He entered upon politics, was very obsequious in
his manner, extravagant in praise of the Duke, quite shocked that
he should have fought a duel, and said, 'Sir, we are twelve of us
here, and not one but what would fight for him any day in the
week.' He said that some years ago, when he heard the Duke speak,
he was distressed at his hesitation, but that now he spoke better
than anyone; that in the Lords he heard Eldon, and Plunket, and
Grey, and then up got the Duke and answered everybody, and spoke
better than they all. Arbuthnot says he was bowing and scraping,
and all humility and politeness, with none of the undergrowl of
the Association.

      [8] [A prominent member of the Catholic Association in
          Dublin.]


[Page Head: LORD ELDON'S INTERVIEW WITH THE KING.]

March 26th, 1829, at night {p.196}

Just met M----, who had returned that moment from Windsor, where
he had left the King in such an ill humour that he would not stay
and dine there. The Duke of Cumberland never goes there without
unsettling his mind, and yesterday evening Lord Mansfield had
been to the Castle and had an audience. Lord Eldon prevails on
all these Peers to exercise their right and demand audiences.
Lord Mansfield had no petition to present, and only went to
remonstrate about the Catholic question and tell the King that
all the Protestants looked to him to save them from the impending
danger. The King declares he only listens to what they say, and
replies that he must leave everything to his Ministers; but it is
impossible for him to listen (and not talk himself) for an hour
and a quarter together. He is very angry at the Bishop of
Winchester's speech, and at the declaration in favour of the Bill
by both of the brothers.[9] He accused M---- of having influenced
the Bishop, which he denied, and told him that he would not have
been biassed by anybody. The King still is in hopes that the Bill
will not pass, and said that the Ministers had only a majority of
five, and with that they would not carry it through. M----
replied that they had above fifty, and after such a majority as
there had been in the Commons it must pass. All this he received
as sulkily as possible, and it is clear that if he dared, and if
he could, he would still defeat the measure. His dislike to it is
the opposition of a spoiled child, founded on considerations
purely personal and selfish and without any reason whatever.

      [9] [The two Sumners. Dr. John Bird Sumner (afterwards
          Archbishop of Canterbury) had been raised to the see of
          Chester in 1828. They owed their advancement to the
          especial favour of George IV. The bishop adverted to in
          the next sentence was the Bishop of Winchester.]


March 29th, 1829, at night {p.197}

Dined at Lady Sandwich's, and met Madame de Lieven, who is grown
very gracious, craving for news, and probably very malignant.
Lieven told me (which she did not) that Lord Eldon was with the
King yesterday for four hours. She confirmed it after dinner, and
said that Halford had told her, but added that he had done no
harm.[10] Lieven also told me that Stratford Canning is coming
home, and Robert Gordon going to Constantinople. He is a dull,
heavy man, and not able, I should think, to cope with the Turkish
Ministers, if they are (as the Duke says) the ablest diplomatists
in Europe. I don't know why Stratford Canning is coming home,
whether _nolens_ or _volens_.

     [10] [This was the celebrated interview related in Lord
          Eldon's 'Memoirs' vol. iii., when, however, the King
          gave Lord E. a very erroneous account of the
          transaction, subsequently corrected by Sir Robert Peel
          in his 'Memoirs.']

I have, I see, alluded to Lord Winchelsea's handkerchief
story,[11] but have not mentioned the circumstances, which I may
as well do. Lord Holland came home one night from the House of
Lords, and as soon as he had occasion to blow his nose pulled his
handkerchief out of his pocket; upon which my Lady exclaimed (she
hates perfumes), 'Good God, Lord H., where did you get that
handkerchief? Send it away directly.' He said he did not know,
when it was inspected, and the letter _W_ found on it. Lord H.
said, 'I was sitting near Lord Winchelsea, and it must be his,
which I took up by mistake and have brought home.' Accordingly
the next day he sent it to Lord Winchelsea with his compliments.
Lord Winchelsea receiving the handkerchief and the message, and
finding it marked _W_, fancied it was the Duke's, and that it was
sent to him by way of affronting him; on which he went to the
Duke of Newcastle and imparted to him the circumstances, and
desired him to wait on Lord Holland for an explanation. This his
Grace did, when the matter was cleared up and the handkerchief
was found to be the property of Lord Wellesley. The next day Lord
Winchelsea came up laughing to Lord Holland in the House of
Lords, and said he had many apologies to make for what had
passed, but that he really was in such a state of excitement he
did not know what he said and did.[12]

     [11] [_Supra_, p. 192 (March 21st, 1829).]

     [12] [Lord Winchelsea was in the habit of flourishing a
          white pocket handkerchief while he was speaking in the
          House of Lords. This peculiarity; associated with his
          sonorous tones, his excited action, and his extravagant
          opinions, gave point to the incident.]


[Page Head: DEBATE ON THE CATHOLIC BILL.]

April 4th, 1829 {p.198}

On the third reading of the Catholic Bill in the House of Commons
Sadler failed, and Palmerston made a speech like one of
Canning's. The Bill has been two nights in the House of Lords.
They go on with it this morning, and will divide this evening.
The Chancellor made a very fine speech last night, and the Bishop
of Oxford spoke very well the night before, but the debate has
been dull on the whole; the subject is exhausted. The House of
Lords was very full, particularly of women; every fool in London
thinks it necessary to be there. It is only since last year that
the steps of the throne have been crowded with ladies; formerly
one or two got in, who skulked behind the throne, or were hid in
Tyrwhitt's box, but now they fill the whole space, and put
themselves in front with their large bonnets, without either fear
or shame.


April 5th, 1829 {p.199}

The question was put at a little before twelve last night, and
carried by 105--217 to 112 (a greater majority than the most
sanguine expected)--after a splendid speech from Lord Grey and a
very good one from Lord Plunket. Old Eldon was completely beat,
and could make no fight at all; his speech was wretched, they
say, for I did not hear it. This tremendous defeat will probably
put an end to anything like serious opposition; they will hardly
rally again.

I dined at Chesterfield House, but nobody came to dinner.
Chesterfield and his party were all at the House of Lords. I
found myself almost alone with Vesey Fitzgerald, with whom I had
much talk after dinner. He said that it would be a long time
before all the circumstances and all the difficulties relating to
their proceedings were known, but when they were it would be seen
how great had been the latter, how curious the former; that the
day the Chancellor, the Duke, and Peel were with the King they
actually were out (all of which I knew), and that he believes if
the other party could have made a Government with a chance of
standing, out they would have gone; but that it was put to them
(this I did not know), and they acknowledged they could not. They
held consultations on the subject, and the man they principally
relied on was the Duke of Richmond; they meant he should be
either First Lord of the Treasury or Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland.
Lord Winchelsea said to Ellenborough, 'Why, he speaks better than
the Duke of Wellington any day.' He happens to have his wits,
such as they are, about him, and has been quick and neat in
one or two little speeches, though he spoke too often, and
particularly in his attack on the Bishop of Oxford the other
night. Last year, on the Wool question, he did very well, but all
the details were got up for him by George Bentinck,[13] who took
the trouble. Besides, his fortune consists in great measure of
wool, he lives in the country, is well versed in rural affairs
and the business of the quarter sessions, has a certain calibre
of understanding, is prejudiced, narrow-minded, illiterate, and
ignorant, good-looking, good-humoured, and unaffected, tedious,
prolix, unassuming, and a duke. There would not have been so much
to say about him if they had not excited an idea in the minds of
some people of making him Prime Minister and successor to the
Duke of Wellington.

     [13] [It deserves remark that Lord George Bentinck was thus
          early employing his singular talents in mastering
          details, although he took no conspicuous part in
          politics until the proposal for the repeal of the Corn
          Law in 1845.]

[Page Head: THE BILL IN JEOPARDY.]

Vesey told me that Dawson's speech at Derry very nearly
overturned the whole design. The King heard of it the day of a
Council at Windsor (which I well remember). The Chancellor was
with him for a long time, but it was almost impossible to
persuade the King that Dawson knew nothing of the intention of
the Government, and that his speech was not made in concert with
Peel and the Duke. This it was which caused them such excessive
annoyance, because it raised difficulties which well-nigh
prevented the accomplishment of the design. It must be owned that
the King might well believe this, and although it is very certain
that Dawson knew nothing, and that his making such a speech ought
to have been a proof that he was in ignorance, it will always be
believed that he was aware of the intended measure, and that his
speech was made with the Duke's concurrence. It is curious enough
that his opinion had been long changed, and that he had intended
to pronounce his recantation when Brownlow did, but as Brownlow
got the start of him he would not. For two years after this he
persevered in the old course, and when Canning came in, and the
Catholic question was the great field on which he was to be
fought, Dawson reverted vigorously to his old opinions, and spoke
vehemently against emancipation. Such is party!

The circumstances that Vesey talked of are in fact pretty well
known or guessed at, nor has there ever been any secret as to the
main fact of the King's opposition and dislike to the measure. He
told me that after Eldon's visit of four hours the Duke
remonstrated, and told the King what great umbrage it gave his
Ministers to see and hear of these long and numerous interviews
with their opponents. The King declared that he said nothing and
that nothing passed calculated to annoy them, which they none of
them believed, but of course could make no reply to.


April 8th, 1829 {p.200}

I have mentioned above (March 4th[14]), p. 180, the Chancellor,
the Duke, and Peel going to the King, and the alarm that
prevailed here. That day the Catholic question was in great
jeopardy. They went to tell the King that unless he would give
them his real, efficient support, and not throw his indirect
influence into the opposite scale, they would resign. He refused
to give them that support; they placed their resignations in his
hands and came away. The King then sent to Eldon, and asked him
if he would undertake to form a Government. He deliberated (then
it was that it was question of the Duke of Richmond being First
Lord or Lord-Lieutenant), but eventually said he could not
undertake it. On his refusal the King yielded, and the Bill went
on; but if Eldon had accepted, the Duke and his colleagues would
have been out, and God knows what would have happened. It was, of
course, of all these matters that the King talked to Eldon in the
long interview they had the other day. He is very sulky at the
great majority in the House of Lords, as I knew he would be.

     [14] [It was on the 3rd of March that this interview took
          place, as related by Sir R. Peel himself in his
          'Memoir' (vol. i. p. 343). The King asked his Ministers
          to explain the details of the measure they proposed to
          bring in. They informed his Majesty that it would be
          necessary to modify in the case of the Roman Catholics
          that part of the oath of supremacy which relates to the
          ecclesiastical jurisdiction and supremacy of the Pope.
          To this the King said he could not possibly consent.
          Upon this Mr. Peel and his colleagues informed his
          Majesty that they must resign. His Majesty accepted the
          resignations, and the Ministers returned to London
          (after an audience of five hours) under the full
          persuasion that the Government was dissolved. In the
          interval some attempt was made to form a Protestant
          Cabinet; but on the evening of the following day, the
          4th of March, the King wrote a letter to the Duke of
          Wellington, informing him that his Majesty anticipated
          so much difficulty in the attempt to form another
          Administration that he could not dispense with his
          Ministers' services, and that they were at liberty to
          proceed with the measures of which notice had been
          given in Parliament.]

Lady Jersey is in a fury with Lord Anglesey, and goes about
saying he insulted her in the House of Lords the other night. She
was sitting on one of the steps of the throne, and the Duchess of
Richmond on the step above. After Lord Anglesey had spoken he
came to talk to the Duchess, who said, 'How well you did speak;'
on which he said, 'Hush! you must take care what you say, for
here is Lady Jersey, and she reports for the newspapers;' on
which Lady Jersey said very angrily, 'Lady Jersey is here for her
own amusement; what do you mean by reporting for newspapers?' to
which he replied with a profound bow, 'I beg your Ladyship's
pardon; I did not mean to offend you, and if I did I beg to make
the most ample apology.' This is his version; hers, of course, is
different. He says that he meant the whole thing as a joke. It
was a very bad joke if it was one, and as he knows how she abuses
him, one may suspect that there was something more than joking in
it.

The other night Lord Grey had called Lord Falmouth to order, and
after the debate Falmouth came up to him with a menacing air and
said, 'My Lord Grey, I wish to inform you that if upon any future
occasion you transgress in the slightest degree the orders of the
House, I shall most certainly call you to order.' Lord Grey, who
expected from his air something more hostile, merely said, 'My
Lord, your Lordship will do perfectly right, and whenever I am
out of order I hope you will.' Last night old Eldon got a
dressing again from the Chancellor.


[Page Head: O'CONNELL AT DINNER.]

April 9th, 1829 {p.202}

Met O'Connell at dinner yesterday at William Ponsonby's. The only
Irish (agitators) were he and O'Gorman Mahon; ----, he said, was
too great a blackguard, and he would not invite him. O'Connell
arrived from Ireland that day; there is nothing remarkable in his
manner, appearance, or conversation, but he seems lively, well
bred, and at his ease. I asked him after dinner 'whether
Catholics had not taken the oath of supremacy till it was coupled
with the declaration;' he said, 'in many instances in the reigns
of Elizabeth, James, and Charles, because at that time it was
considered to apply to the civil supremacy of the Pope only, and
that the Government admitted of that interpretation of it, but
that no Catholic could take it now, because that construction is
never given to the oath.' Duncannon told me that O'Connell has no
wish to be in Parliament, that he makes so much money by his
profession that it is a great loss to him to attend Parliament at
all. What they want is a compromise with Vesey Fitzgerald, by
which he may be admitted to take his seat in this Parliament on
an understanding that he will not oppose Vesey in the next; not
that I see how that is to be done, except by an Act of Parliament
(which would never pass) in his favour. Besides, the Duke detests
him, and Vesey likewise. They cannot forgive him for all he has
done and all he has made them do. O'Gorman, the secretary of the
Catholic Association, appears a heavy, civil, vulgar man. I sat
next to Stanley, who told me a story which amused me. Macintosh,
in the course of the recent debates, went one day to the House of
Commons at eleven in the morning to take a place. They were all
taken on the benches below the gangway, and on asking the
doorkeeper how they happened to be all taken so early, he said,
'Oh, sir, there is no chance of getting a place, for Colonel
Sibthorpe sleeps at a tavern close by, and comes here every
morning by eight o'clock and takes places for all the saints.'


April 13th, 1829 {p.203}

On Friday last the Catholic Bill was read a third time, after a
very dull debate. Lord Eldon attempted to rally, and made a long
and wretched speech which lasted two hours. Nobody spoke well.
The Duke in his reply dropped all the terms of courtesy and
friendship he had hitherto used in speaking of old Eldon, and
broke off with him entirely. He is disgusted at his opposition
out of doors, and at his having been the constant adviser of the
Duke of Cumberland and all the foolish Lords who have been
pestering the King at Windsor; and he is acquainted with all his
tricks and underhand proceedings, probably with more of them than
we know of. He thanked the Opposition for their support--thanks
which they well merit from him--but of course nobody is
satisfied. He was before accused of ingratitude in never taking
notice of their conduct, and even it is said that he gave them to
understand he had no more need of their services, and wished to
make them his bow. I don't believe he meant any such thing; he
intended to thank them simply, though it is probably true that he
does not wish to continue in alliance with them, and is anxious
to see the Tories put themselves under his orders again. On
Saturday he sent the commission down to Windsor for the King's
signature, with other papers as a matter of course; he would not
go himself, that there might be no fresh discussion between them.

I went on Friday morning to the Old Bailey to hear the trials,
particularly that of the women for the murder of the apprentices;
the mother was found guilty, and will be hanged to-day--has been
by this time.[15] The case exhibited a shocking scene of
wretchedness and poverty, such as ought not to exist in any
community, especially in one which pretends to be so flourishing
and happy as this is. It is, I suppose, one case of many which
may be found in this town, graduating through various stages of
misery and vice. These wretched beings were described to be in
the lowest state of moral and physical degradation, with scarcely
rags to cover them, food barely sufficient to keep them alive,
and working eighteen or nineteen hours a day, without being
permitted any relaxation, or even the privilege of going to
church on Sunday. I never heard more disgusting details than this
trial elicited, or a case which calls more loudly for an
investigation into the law and the system under which such
proceedings are possible. Poverty, and vice, and misery must
always be found in a community like ours, but such frightful
contrasts between the excess of luxury and splendour and these
scenes of starvation and brutality ought not to be possible; but
I am afraid there is more vice, more misery and penury in this
country than in any other, and at the same time greater wealth.
The contrasts are too striking, and such an unnatural, artificial,
and unjust state of things neither can nor ought to be permanent.
I am convinced that before many years elapse these things will
produce some great convulsion.

     [15] [Two wretched women named Hibner were tried, and one of
          them convicted for the murder of a parish apprentice
          named Francis Colepitts by savage ill-treatment. The
          elder prisoner was found guilty and executed on the
          13th of April. No such concourse of people had
          assembled to witness an execution since that of
          Fauntleroy. The details of the crime were horrible, and
          had excited great sympathy for the victim amongst all
          classes.--_Ann. Regist. for 1829, Chronicle_, p. 71.]

[Page Head: THEATRICAL FUND DINNER.]

After the Old Bailey I went and dined at the Covent Garden
Theatrical Fund dinner. The Duke of Clarence could not come, so
they put Lord Blessington in the chair, who made an ass of
himself. Among other toasts he was to give 'The memory of the
Duke of York,' who was the founder of the institution. He
prefaced this with a speech, but gave 'The health,' &c., on which
Fawcett, who sat opposite, called out in an agony, 'The memory,
my Lord!' He corrected himself, but in a minute after said again
'The health.' 'The memory, my Lord!' again roared Fawcett. It was
supremely ridiculous. Francis Leveson sat on his right,
Codrington on his left, and Lawless the agitator just opposite;
he is a pale, thin, common-looking little man, and has not at all
the air of a patriot orator and agitator.


May 14th, 1829 {p.205}

I have been at Newmarket for three weeks, and have had no time to
write, nor has anything particular occurred. The King came to
town, and had a levee and drawing-room, the former of which was
very numerously, the other shabbily attended. At the levee he was
remarkably civil to all the Peers, particularly the Duke of
Richmond, who had distinguished themselves in opposition to
Government in the late debates, and he turned his back on the
bishops who had voted for the Bill. O'Connell and Shiel were both
at the levee; the former had been presented in Ireland, so had
not to be presented again, but the King took no notice of him,
and when he went by said to somebody near him, 'Damn the fellow!
what does he come here for?'--dignified.

There was an odd circumstance the day of the drawing-room. The
Duke of Cumberland, as Gold Stick, gave orders at the Horse
Guards that no carriages should be admitted into the Park, and
Peel and the Duke of Wellington, when they presented themselves
on their way to Court, were refused admission. The officer on
guard came to the Duke's carriage and said that such were his
orders, but that he was sure they were not meant to extend to his
Grace, and if he would authorise him he would order the gates to
be opened. The Duke said 'By no means,' and then desired his
carriage to go round the other way. Many people thought that this
was a piece of impertinence of the Duke of Cumberland's, but the
Duke says that the whole thing was a mistake. Be this as it may,
the Duke of Cumberland and the Duke of Wellington do not speak,
and whenever they meet, which often happens in society, the
former moves off.

Yesterday morning Batchelor called on me, and sat with me for an
hour, telling me all sorts of details concerning the interior of
Windsor and St. James's. The King is well in health, except that
since last September he has been afflicted with a complaint in
his bladder, which both annoys and alarms him very much. There is
no appearance of stone or gravel, but violent irritation, which
is only subdued by laudanum, and always returns when the effect
of the opiate is gone off. The laudanum, too, disagrees much with
his general health. He is attended by Sir Henry Holland, Brodie,
and O'Reilly. Sir A. Cooper, who did attend him, is not now
consulted, in consequence (Batchelor thinks) of some petty
intrigue in some quarter. This O'Reilly, who has gradually
insinuated himself into the King's confidence, and by constantly
attending him at Windsor, and bringing him all the gossip and
tittle-tattle of the neighbourhood (being on the alert to pick up
and retail all he can for the King's amusement), has made himself
necessary, and is not now to be shaken off, to the great
annoyance of Knighton, who cannot bear him, as well as of all the
other people about the King, who hate him for his meddling,
mischievous character, The King's _valets de chambre_ sit up
alternately, and as he sleeps very ill he rings his bell every
half-hour. He talks of everybody and everything before his valets
with great freedom, except of politics, on which he never utters
a word in their presence, and he always sends them away when he
sees anybody or speaks on business of any kind. Batchelor thinks
that this new disorder is a symptom of approaching decay, and
that the King thinks so himself.

[Page Head: LADY CONYNGHAM.]

In the meantime the influence of Knighton and that of Lady
Conyngham continue as great as ever; nothing can be done but by
their permission, and they understand one another and play into
each other's hands. Knighton opposes every kind of expense,
except that which is lavished on her. The wealth she has
accumulated by savings and presents must be enormous. The King
continues to heap all kinds of presents upon her, and she lives
at his expense; they do not possess a servant; even Lord
Conyngham's _valet de chambre_ is not properly their servant.
They all have situations in the King's household, from which they
receive their pay, while they continue in the service of the
Conynghams. They dine every day while in London at St. James's,
and when they give a dinner it is cooked at St. James's and
brought up to Hamilton Place in hackney coaches and in machines
made expressly for the purpose; there is merely a fire lit in
their kitchen for such things as must be heated on the spot. At
Windsor the King sees very little of her except of an evening; he
lies in bed half the day or more, sometimes goes out, and
sometimes goes to her room for an hour or so in the afternoon,
and that is all he sees of her. A more despicable scene cannot be
exhibited than that which the interior of our Court presents--
every base, low, and unmanly propensity, with selfishness,
avarice, and a life of petty intrigue and mystery.


May 16th, 1829 {p.207}

O'Connell attempted to take his seat last night, but the business
was put off till Monday. His case is exceedingly well got up, but
too long. There are many opinions as to his right; many people
think he has established it (though he had failed to do so), that
a Bill ought to be brought in to enable him to take the new
oaths. It was supposed Government would take no part, but Peel's
speech and the language of some of the Ministers are rather
unfavourable to him. Lord Grey, when he read the case, thought
his argument on the tenth clause of the Bill conclusive, but when
he examined the Bill he thought differently, and that the context
gives a different signification to the words on which O'Connell
relies. Tierney thinks otherwise, and this they debated Bill in
hand in Lady Jersey's room yesterday morning. O'Connell was in a
great fright when he went up to the table. He got, through the
necessary forms in the Steward's office by means of the
Commissioners whom Duncannon provided, and who were, I believe,
Burdett and Ebrington. He ought to be allowed to take his seat,
but probably he will not; it is a very hard case.[16] The Duke of
Orleans is come, and his son, the Duke of Chartres; the latter
was at the opera to-night in Prince Leopold's box.

     [16] [O'Connell was excluded from taking his seat as member
          for Clare, for which he had been elected before the
          passing of the Relief Act, because it was held that he
          was bound to take the oath which was required by law at
          the time of his election, and not the oath imposed on
          Roman Catholics by the recent statutes. He presented
          himself to be sworn at the table of the House of
          Commons on the 15th of May, and there refused to take
          the former oath, which was tendered to him by the
          Clerk. The House divided 100 to 116 against his
          admission without taking the oath of supremacy on the
          18th; Mr. O'Connell having previously been heard at the
          bar in person in support of his claim.]


May 29th, 1829 {p.208}

O'Connell is said to have made a very good speech at the bar of
the House, and produced rather a favourable impression. He has
done himself this good, that whereas it was pretty generally
thought that he was likely to fail in the House of Commons as a
speaker, he has now altered that impression. There is but one
opinion as to the wretched feeling of excluding him, but the
saddle is put upon the right horse, and though the Government are
now obliged to enforce the provisions of their own Bill,
everybody knows that the exclusion was the work of the King.
O'Connell goes back to Clare (as he says) sure of his election;
there will be a great uproar, but at present nobody expects any
opposition, and all deprecate a contest.

[Page Head: PRINCESS VICTORIA AT A CHILD'S BALL.]

Yesterday the King gave a dinner to the Dukes of Orleans and
Chartres, and in the evening there was a child's ball. It was
pretty enough, and I saw for the first time the Queen of
Portugal[17] and our little Victoria. The Queen was finely dressed,
with a ribband and order over her shoulder, and she sat by the
King. She is good-looking and has a sensible Austrian countenance.
In dancing she fell down and hurt her face, was frightened and
bruised, and went away. The King was very kind to her. Our little
Princess is a short, plain-looking child, and not near so
good-looking as the Portuguese. However, if nature has not done
so much, fortune is likely to do a great deal more for her. The
King looked very well, and stayed at the ball till two. There
were very few people, and neither Arbuthnot nor Mrs. A. were
asked. I suspect this is owing to what passed in the House about
opening the Birdcage Walk. It puts the King in a fury to have
any such thing mentioned, not having the slightest wish to
accommodate the public, though very desirous of getting money out
of their pockets.

     [17] [Donna Maria II. da Gloria, Queen of Portugal, on the
          abdication of her father, Don Pedro, succeeded to the
          throne on the 2nd of May, 1826. She was born on the 4th
          of April, 1819, and was consequently but a few weeks
          older than the Princess Victoria.]

The day before yesterday there was a review for the Duke of
Orleans, and the Marquis of Anglesey, who was there at the head
of his regiment, contrived to get a tumble, but was not hurt.
Last night at the ball the King said to Lord Anglesey, 'Why,
Paget, what's this I hear? they say you rolled off your horse at
the review yesterday.' The Duke as he left the ground was
immensely cheered, and the people thronged about his horse and
would shake hands with him. When Lord Hill went to the King the
day before to give him an account of the intended review and the
dispositions that had been made, he said, 'Hill, if I can throw
my leg over your Shropshire horse, don't be surprised if you see
me amongst you.'

The new law appointments have just been announced, and have
created some surprise.[18]

     [18] [The Attorney-General, Sir Charles Wetherell, had
          resigned in consequence of his violent opposition to
          the Catholic Relief Bill, and was succeeded by Sir
          James Scarlett (afterwards Lord Abinger). The
          Solicitor-General, Sir Nicholas Conyngham Tindal, was
          raised on the 9th of June to the Chief Justiceship of
          the Common Pleas; and was succeeded in the
          Solicitorship by Sir Edward Burtenshaw Sugden
          (afterwards Lord St. Leonards). The vacancy in the
          Common Pleas was caused by the resignation of Sir
          William Draper Best, who was created Lord Wynford for
          the purpose of assisting the Chancellor with the
          judicial business of the House of Lords.]


June 11th, 1829 {p.210}

I have been at Epsom for a week; the Duke of Grafton, Lords
Wilton, Jersey, and Worcester, Russell, Anson, Irby, and myself
took Down Hall for the races and lived very well. Nothing
particular has occurred. Lord and Lady Ellenborough are
separated, and he is supposed to have behaved very handsomely to
her. They say he does not now know the whole story of her
intrigue with Felix Schwarzenberg; that hero is gone to the
Russian army. All the new appointments were declared when I was
out of town, and they excited some surprise and more disapprobation.
They have made Best a Peer, who is poor and has a family, by
which another poor peerage will be added to the list; and he
is totally unfit for the situation he is to fill--that of
Deputy-Speaker of the House of Lords, and to assist the
Chancellor in deciding Scotch causes, of which he knows nothing
whatever; and as the Chancellor knows nothing either, the Scotch
law is likely to be strangely administered in that great court of
appeal. They would have done better to have made Alexander[19] a
Peer, who is very old, understands Equity Law, and has no
children; but he knows very little of Common Law (which Best is
well versed in), and so they keep him on the bench and put Best
on the Woolsack. Lord Rosslyn is Privy Seal,[20] and Scarlett
Attorney-General, which looks like a leaning towards the Whigs;
but then Trench and Lord Edward Somerset are put into the
Ordnance; George Bankes goes back to the India Board, and
Government supports him in his contest at Cambridge against
William Cavendish. This conduct is considered very unhandsome,
and Tierney, who was well disposed towards the Government, told
me yesterday that if the Duke did not take care he thought he
would get swamped with such doings, that the way he went on was
neither fish nor flesh, and he would offend more people than he
would conciliate. At present there is no party, and if Government
have no opponents they have no great body of supporters on whom
they can depend; everything is in confusion--party, politics, and
all.

     [19] [Sir William Alexander, then Lord Chief Baron of the
          Exchequer. The Court of Exchequer still retained its
          Equity jurisdiction.]

     [20] [Lord Rosslyn was considered to be a Whig, and Sir
          James Scarlett was better known for the Liberal
          opinions he once professed than for the Tory opinions
          he afterwards assumed.]

[Page Head: LORD PALMERSTON ON FOREIGN AFFAIRS.]

The event of last week was Palmerston's speech on the Portuguese
question, which was delivered at a late hour and in an empty
House, but which they say was exceedingly able and eloquent. This
is the second he has made this year of great merit. It was very
violent against Government. He has been twenty years in office
and never distinguished himself before, a proof how many
accidental circumstances are requisite to bring out the talents
which a man may possess. The office he held was one of dull and
dry detail, and he never travelled out of it. He probably stood
in awe of Canning and others, and was never in the Cabinet; but
having lately held higher situations and having acquired more
confidence, and the great men having been removed from the House
of Commons by death or promotion, he has launched forth, and with
astonishing success. Lord Granville told me he had always thought
Palmerston was capable of more than he did, and had told Canning
so, who did not believe it.

Yesterday the King had his racing dinner, which was more
numerously attended and just as magnificent as that he gave last
year, but not half so gay and joyous. I believe he had some gouty
feeling and was in pain, for, contrary to his usual custom, he
hardly spoke, and the Duke of Richmond, who sat next to him, told
me that the little he did say was more about politics than the
turf, and he fancied that something had annoyed him. He looked
well enough, and was very cheerful before dinner. When his health
was drunk 'as Patron of the Jockey Club, and many thanks to him
for condescending to accept that title,' he made a speech, in
which he said that 'he was much gratified by our kindness, and he
could assure us that in withdrawing himself as he had done from
the Jockey Club he was not influenced by any unkindness to any
member of it, or any indifference to the interests of the turf.'


[Page Head: THE COTTAGE.]

June 24th, 1829 {p.212}

Went to Stoke for the Ascot races. There was such a crowd to see
the cup run for as never was seen before. The King was very
anxious and disappointed. I bought the winner for Chesterfield[21]
two hours before the race, he having previously asked the King's
leave, which he gave with many gracious expressions. I have set
about making a reconciliation between the King and Lord Sefton.
Both are anxious to make it up, but each is afraid to make the
first advances. However, Sefton must make them, and he will. The
cause of their quarrel is very old, and signifies little enough
now.... They have been at daggers drawn ever since, and Sefton
has revenged himself by a thousand jokes at the King's expense,
of which his Majesty is well aware. Their common pursuit, and a
desire on the one side to partake of the good things of
the Palace, and on the other side to be free from future
pleasantries, has generated a mutual disposition to make it up,
which is certainly sensible. The King has bought seven horses
successively, for which he has given 11,300 guineas, principally
to win the cup at Ascot, which he has never accomplished. He
might have had Zinganee, but would not, because he fancied the
Colonel would beat him; but when that appeared doubtful he was
very sorry not to have bought him, and complained that the horse
was not offered to him. He is now extravagantly fond of
Chesterfield, who is pretty well bit by it. There is always a
parcel of eldest sons and Lords in possession invited to the
Cottage for the sake of Lady Maria Conyngham. The King likes to
be treated with great deference but without fear, and that people
should be easy with him, and gay, and listen well. There was a
grand consultation at the Cottage between the King, Lieven,
Esterhazy, and the Duke of Cumberland as to the way in which the
ladies should be placed at dinner, the object being that Lady
Conyngham should sit next to his Majesty, though according to
etiquette the two Ambassadresses should sit one on each side of
him. It was contrived by the Duke of Cumberland taking out one of
them and sitting opposite, by which means the lovely Thais sat
beside him and he was happy.

     [21] [George Augustus, sixth Earl of Chesterfield, born in
          1805, died in 1866. He married in 1830 Anne, daughter
          of Lord Forester. In 1829 he was one of the most
          brilliant of the young men of fashion of that day,
          having succeeded to a large rental and large
          accumulations in his minority.]


June 26th, 1829 {p.213}

I met Tierney and Lord Grey at dinner yesterday; the former
wanted to know what passed about the King's Speech at the Council
at Windsor the other day. I had heard nothing, not having been at
the Council, but it is believed that the Ministers had put in the
Speech a sentence expressive of satisfaction and sanguine hopes
about Ireland, and that at the last moment the King would not
agree to this; for after the Duke's audience, which lasted a good
while, there was a Cabinet, and it is supposed they knocked
under, for the paragraph about Ireland is cold enough. The Duke
of Cumberland is thought to have had a hand in all this, and to
have persuaded the King to be obstinate. We talked a great deal
about the situation of the Government and the state of the House
of Commons, and Tierney thinks that unless the Duke strengthens
himself he will not be able to go on; that Rosslyn and Scarlett
are of little use to him, and what he wants is the support of
those who will bring followers in their train, such as Althorp,
who has extensive connections, enjoys consideration, and would be
of real use to him. There is a strong report that Althorp is to
be Chancellor of the Exchequer, Goulburn Speaker, and Sutton[22]
a Peer. At present the Government is anything but strong, but
then there exists no party, nor is there any man of ability and
authority enough to make one. The Duke must strengthen himself,
and have recourse for the purpose either to the Whigs or to
Huskisson and his friends. These latter he detests, and he knows
they hate him and are his bitterest enemies. The Whigs he would
not dislike so much, but the King is averse to have them, and the
Duke is beset by his old suspicion that they want to break up the
Tory party and make him dependent on themselves. At the same
time, in taking in Lord Rosslyn and Scarlett, he has made some
advances towards them, though Lord Grey is displeased at his not
having shown him more deference and communicated to him his
intentions about Rosslyn. Lord Rosslyn asked Lord Grey's advice
as to accepting, and he advised him to take office, explaining at
the same time that he should not pledge himself to support
Government, though he was at present well disposed to do so, and
should be still more disposed when Lord Rosslyn became a part of
it. Tierney said it was very lamentable that there should be such
a deficiency of talent in the rising generation, and remarkable
how few clever young men there are now in the House of Commons.
The King did not like Lord Rosslyn's appointment; he hates all
the Whigs; indeed, he hates the best men of all parties, and
likes none but such as will be subservient to himself. So little
public spirit has he, and so much selfishness, that he would
rather his Government was weak than strong, that they may be the
more dependent upon him; though he only wishes to be powerful in
order to exercise the most puerile caprices, gratify ridiculous
resentments, indulge vulgar prejudices, and amass or squander
money; not one great object connected with national glory or
prosperity ever enters his brain. I am convinced he would turn
out the Duke to-morrow if he could see any means of replacing
him. I don't think I mentioned that when he talked of giving the
child's ball Lady Maria Conyngham said, 'Oh, do, it will be so
nice to see the _two little Queens_ dancing together' (the little
Queen of Portugal and the Princess Victoria), at which he was
beyond measure provoked.

     [22] [Right Hon. Manners Sutton, Speaker of the House of
          Commons. He retained that office till 1835, when he was
          beaten on the great contest with Mr. Abercromby, and
          raised to the peerage as Lord Canterbury.]


[Page Head: MADAME DU CAYLA.]

July 10th, 1829 {p.214}

I dined with the Duke of Wellington yesterday; a very large party
for Mesdames the Duchesse d'Escars and Madame du Cayla; the first
is the widow of the Duc d'Escars, who was Premier Maître d'Hôtel
of Louis XVIII., and who was said to have died of one of the
King's good dinners, and the joke was, 'Hier sa Majesté a eu une
indigestion, dont M. le Duc d'Escars est mort.' Madame du
Cayla[23] is come over to prosecute some claim upon this
Government, which the Duke has discovered to be unfounded, and he
had the bluntness to tell her so as they were going to dinner.
She must have been good-looking in her youth; her countenance is
lively, her eyes are piercing, clear complexion, and very
handsome hands and arms; but the best part about her seemed to be
the magnificent pearls she wore, though these are not so fine as
Lady Conyngham's. All king's mistresses seem to have a rage for
pearls; I remember Madame Narischkin's were splendid. Madame du
Cayla is said to be very rich and clever.

     [23] [Madame du Cayla had been the _soi-disant_ mistress of
          Louis XVIII., or rather the favourite of his declining
          years. 'Il fallait une Esther,' to use her own
          expression, 'à cet Assuérus.' She was the daughter of
          M. Talon, brought up by Madam Campan, and an early
          friend of Hortense Beauharnais. Her marriage to an
          officer in the Prince de Condé's army was an unhappy
          one; and she was left, deserted by her husband, in
          straitened circumstances. After the assassination of
          the Duc de Berry, M. de la Rochefoucauld, one of the
          leaders of the ultra-Royalist party, contrived to throw
          her in the way of Louis XVIII., in the hope of
          counteracting the more Liberal influence which M. de
          Cazes had acquired over the King. Madame du Cayla
          became the hope and the mainstay of the altar and the
          throne. The scheme succeeded. The King was touched by
          her grace and beauty, and she became indispensable to
          his happiness. His happiness was said to consist in
          inhaling a pinch of snuff from her shoulders, which
          were remarkably broad and fair. M. de Lamartine has
          related the romance of her life in the thirty-eighth
          book of his 'Histoire de la Restauration,' and Béranger
          satirised her in the bitterest of his songs--that which
          bears the name of 'Octavie':--

               Sur les coussins où la douleur l'enchaîne
                 Quel mal, dis-tu, vous fait ce roi des rois?
               Vois-le d'un masque enjoliver sa haine
                 Pour étouffer notre gloire et nos lois.

               Vois ce coeur faux, que cherchent tes caresses,
                 De tous les siens n'aimer que ses aïeux;
               Charger de fer les muses vengeresses,
                 Et par ses moeurs nous révéler ses dieux.

               Peins-nous ces feux, qu'en secret tu redoutes,
                 _Quand sur ton sein il cuve son nectar,_
               Ces feux dont s'indignaient les voûtes
                 Où plane encor l'aigle du grand César.

          It is curious that in 1829 the last mistress of a King
          of France should have visited London under the reign of
          the last mistress of a King of England.]

[Page Head: WELLINGTON'S ANECDOTES OF GEORGE IV.]

After dinner the Duke talked to me for a long time about the King
and the Duke of Cumberland, and his quarrel with the latter. He
began about the King's making Lord Aberdeen stay at the Cottage
the other day when he had engaged all the foreign Ambassadors to
dine with him in London. Aberdeen represented this to him, but
his Majesty said 'it did not matter, he should stay, and the
Ambassadors should for once see that he was King of England.' 'He
has no idea,' said the Duke, 'of what a King of England ought to
do, or he would have known that he ought to have made Aberdeen go
and receive them, instead of keeping him there.' He said the King
was very clever and amusing, but that with a surprising memory he
was very inaccurate, and constantly told stories the details of
which all his auditors must know to be false. One day he was
talking of the late King, and asserted that George III. had said
to himself, 'Of all the men I have ever known you are the one on
whom I have the greatest dependence, and you are the most perfect
gentleman.' Another day he said 'that he recollected the old Lord
Chesterfield, who once said to him, "Sir, you are the fourth
Prince of Wales I have known, and I must give your Royal Highness
one piece of advice: stick to your father; as long as you adhere
to your father you will be a great and a happy man, but if you
separate yourself from him you will be nothing and an unhappy
one;" and, by God (added the King), I never forgot that advice,
and acted upon it all my life.' 'We all,' said the Duke, 'looked
at one another with astonishment.' He is extremely clever and
particularly ingenious in turning the conversation from any
subject he does not like to discuss.

'I,' added the Duke of Wellington, 'remember calling upon him the
day he received the news of the battle of Navarino. I was not a
Minister, but Commander-in-Chief, and after having told me the
news he asked me what I thought of it. I said that I knew nothing
about it, was ignorant of the instructions that had been given to
the admiral, and could not give any opinion; but "one thing is
clear to me, that your Majesty's ships have suffered very much,
and that you ought to reinforce your fleet directly, for whenever
you have a maritime force yours ought to be superior to all
others." This advice he did not like; I saw this, and he said,
"Oh, the Emperor of Russia is a man of honour," and then he began
talking, and went on to Venice, Toulon, St. Petersburg, all over
the Continent, and from one place and one subject to another,
till he brought me to Windsor Castle. I make it a rule never to
interrupt him, and when in this way he tries to get rid of a
subject in the way of business which he does not like, I let him
talk himself out, and then quietly put before him the matter in
question, so that he cannot escape from it. I remember when the
Duke of Newcastle was going to Windsor with a mob at his heels to
present a petition (during the late discussions) I went down to
him and showed him the petition, and told him that they ought to
be prevented from coming. He went off and talked upon every
subject but that which I had come about, for an hour and a half.
I let him go on till he was tired, and then I said, "But the
petition, sir; here it is, and an answer must be sent. I had
better write to the Duke of Newcastle and tell him your Majesty
will receive it through the Secretary of State; and, if you
please, I will write the letter before I leave the house." This I
did, finished my business in five minutes, and went away with the
letter in my pocket. I know him so well that I can deal with him
easily, but anybody who does not know him, and who is afraid of
him, would have the greatest difficulty in getting on with him.
One extraordinary peculiarity about him is, that the only thing
he fears is ridicule. He is afraid of nothing which is hazardous,
perilous, or uncertain; on the contrary, he is all for braving
difficulties; but he dreads ridicule, and this is the reason why
the Duke of Cumberland, whose sarcasms he dreads, has such power
over him, and Lord Anglesey likewise; both of them he hates in
proportion as he fears them.' I said I was very much, surprised
to hear this, as neither of these men were wits, or likely to
make him ridiculous; that if he had been afraid of Sefton or
Alvanley it could have been understood. 'But,' rejoined the Duke,
'he never sees these men, and he does not mind anybody he does
not see; but the Duke of Cumberland and Lord Anglesey he cannot
avoid seeing, and the fear he has of what they may say to him, as
well as of him, keeps him in awe of them. No man, however, knows
the Duke of Cumberland better than he does; indeed, all I know of
the Duke of Cumberland I know from him, and so I told him one
day. I remember asking him why the Duke of Cumberland was so
unpopular, and he said, "Because there never was a father well
with his son, or husband with his wife, or lover with his
mistress, or a friend with his friend, that he did not try to
make mischief between them." And yet he suffers this man to have
constant access to him, to say what he will to him, and often
acts under his influence.' I said, 'You and the Duke of
Cumberland speak now, don't you?' 'Yes, we speak. The King spoke
to me about it, and wanted me to make him an apology. I told him
it was quite impossible, "Why," said he, "you did not mean to
offend the Duke of Cumberland, I am sure." "No, sir," said I; "I
did not wish to offend him, but I did not say a word that I did
not mean. When we meet the Royal Family in society, they are our
superiors, and we owe them all respect, and I should readily
apologise for anything I might have said offensive to the Duke;
but in the House of Lords we are their peers, and for what I say
there I am responsible to the House alone." "But," said the King,
"he said you turned on him as if you meant to address yourself to
him personally." "I did mean it, sir," said I, "and I did so
because I knew that he had been here, that he had heard things
from your Majesty which he had gone and misrepresented and
misstated in other quarters, and knowing that, I meant to show
him that I was aware of it. I am sorry that the Duke is offended,
but I cannot help it, and I cannot make him an apology."'

[Page Head: DUKES OF WELLINGTON AND CUMBERLAND.]

The Duke went on, 'I was so afraid he would tell the Duke that I
was sorry for what I had said, that I repeated to him when I went
away, "Now, sir, remember that I will not apologise to the Duke,
and I hope your Majesty will therefore not convey any such idea
to his mind." However, he spoke to him, I suppose, for the next
time I met the Duke he bowed to me. I immediately called on him,
but he did not return my visit. On a subsequent occasion [I
forget what he said it was] I called on him again, and he
returned my visit the same day.'

The Duke then talked of the letter which the Duke of Cumberland
had just written (as Grand Master of the Orange Lodges) to
Enniskillen, which he thought was published with the most
mischievous intentions. However, he said, 'I know not what he is
at, but while I am conscious of going on in a straightforward
manner I am not afraid of him, or of anything he can do,' which I
was surprised to hear, because it looked as if he was afraid of
him. I asked him whether, with all the cleverness he thought
belonged to the King, he evinced great acuteness in discussing
matters of business, to which he replied, 'Oh, no, not at all,
the worst judgment that can be.' This was not the first time I
had heard the Duke's opinion of the King. I remember him saying
something to the Duke of Portland about him during the Queen's
trial indicative of his contempt for him.

In the meantime the Duke of Cumberland, instead of returning to
Berlin, has sent for the Duchess and his son, and means to take
up his abode in this country, in hopes of prevailing upon the
King to dismiss his Ministers and make a Government under his own
auspices; but however weak the Government may be, he will not
succeed, for the King has an habitual reliance upon the Duke [of
Wellington] which overcomes the mortification and dislike he
feels at being dependent upon him; and, besides, the materials do
not exist out of which a Government could be formed that would
have the support of the House of Commons. The great want which
this Administration experiences is that of men of sufficient
information and capacity to direct the complicated machinery of
our trade and finances and adjust our colonial differences.
Huskisson, Grant, and Palmerston were the ablest men, and the two
first the best informed in the Government. Fitzgerald knows
nothing of the business of his office, still less of the
principles of trade; he is idle, but quick. Of Murray I know
nothing; he is popular in his office, but he has neither the
capacity nor the knowledge of Huskisson.




                           CHAPTER VI.

The Recorder's report--Manners of George IV.--Intrigues of the
  Duke of Cumberland--Insults Lady Lyndhurst--Deacon Hume at the
  Board of Trade--Quarrel between the Duke of Cumberland and the
  Lord Chancellor--A Bad Season--Prostration of Turkey--France
  under Polignac--State of Ireland--Mr. Windham's Diary--
  George IV.'s Eyesight--Junius--A Man without Money--Court-martial
  on Captain Dickinson--The Duke and the 'Morning Journal'--
  Physical Courage of the King--A Charade at Chatsworth--Huskisson
  and the Duke--Irish Trials--Tom Moore--Scott--Byron--Fanny
  Kemble--Sir James Mackintosh--His Conversation--Black Irishmen--
  Moore's Irish Story--Moore's Singing--George IV. and Mr. Denman--
  Strawberry Hill--Moore at Trinity College--Indian Vengeance at
  Niagara--Count Woronzow--Lord Glengall's Play--The Recorder's
  Report.


July 21st, 1829 {p.221}

There was a Council last Thursday, and the heaviest Recorder's
report that was ever known, I believe; seven people left for
execution. The King cannot bear this, and is always leaning to
the side of mercy. Lord Tenterden, however, is for severity, and
the Recorder still more so. It not unfrequently happens that a
culprit escapes owing to the scruples of the King; sometimes he
put the question of life or death to the vote, and it is decided
by the voices of the majority. The King came to town at one, and
gave audiences until half-past four. He received Madame du Cayla,
whom he was very curious to see. She told me afterwards that she
was astonished at his good looks, and seemed particularly to have
been struck with his 'belles jambes et sa perruque bien
arrangée;' and I asked her if she had ever seen him before, and
she said no, 'mais que le feu Roi lui en avait souvent parlé, et
de ses belles manières, qu'en vérité elle les avait trouvées
parfaites.' There was a reigning Margrave of Baden waiting for an
audience in the room we assembled in. Nobody took much notice of
him, and when the Duke spoke to him he bowed to the ground, bow
after bow; when he went away nobody attended him or opened the
door for him.


July 24th, 1829 {p.222}

The accounts from Ireland are very bad; nothing but massacres and
tumults, and all got up by the Protestants, who desire nothing so
much as to provoke the Catholics into acts of violence and
outrage. They want a man of energy and determination who will
cause the law to be respected and impartially administered. If
Lord Anglesey was there, it is very probable these outrages would
not have taken place, but no one cares for such a man of straw as
the present Lord Lieutenant.

[Page Head: INTRIGUES OF THE DUKE OF CUMBERLAND.]

The Duke of Cumberland is doing all he can to set the King
against the Duke; he always calls him 'King Arthur,' which made
the King very angry at first, and he desired he would not, but he
calls him so still, and the King submits. He never lets any of
the Royal Family see the King alone; the Duchess of Gloucester
complains bitterly of his conduct, and the way in which he
thrusts himself in when she is with his Majesty. The other day
Count Münster came to the King, and the Duke of Cumberland was
determined he should not have a private audience, and stayed in
the room the whole time. He hates Lady Conyngham, and she him.
They put about that he has been pressed to stay here by the King,
which is not true; the King would much rather he went away. The
Duke of Wellington told me that he one day asked the King when
the Duke was going, and he said, 'I am sick to death of the
subject. I have been told he was going fifty times, but when he
goes, or whether he ever goes at all, I have not the least idea.'
He is now very much provoked because the King will not talk
politics with him. His Majesty wants to be quiet, and is tired of
all the Duke's violence and his constant attacks.


August 8th, 1829 {p.222}

There is a story current about the Duke of Cumberland and Lady
Lyndhurst which is more true than most stories of this kind. The
Duke called upon her, and grossly insulted her; on which, after a
scramble, she rang the bell. He was obliged to desist and to go
away, but before he did he said, 'By God, madam, I will be the
ruin of you and your husband, and will not rest till I have
destroyed you both.'

Vesey Fitzgerald has turned out the Chief Clerk in the Board of
Trade, and put in Hume[1] as Assistant Secretary. He told me it
was absolutely necessary, as nobody in the Office knew anything
of its business, which is, I believe, very true, but as true of
himself as of the rest. Hume is a very clever man, and probably
knows more of the principles of trade and commerce than anybody,
but so it is in every department of Government--great ignorance
on the part of the chiefs, and a few obscure men of industry and
ability who do the business and supply the knowledge requisite,
_sic vos non vobis_ throughout.

      [1] [Mr. Deacon Hume, a very able public servant. He
          remained at the Board of Trade many years.]

O'Connell was elected without opposition; he was more violent and
more popular than ever. They treat him with every indignity, and
then they complain of his violence; besides, he must speak to the
Irish in the strain to which they have been used and which
pleases them. Had he never been violent, he would not be the man
he is, and Ireland would not have been emancipated.


[Page Head: QUARREL OF CUMBERLAND AND LYNDHURST.]

August 18th, 1829 {p.223}

Last Saturday I came back from Goodwood, and called on Lady
Jersey, whom I found very curious about a correspondence which
she told me had taken place between the Duke of Cumberland and
the Chancellor relative to a paragraph which had appeared in the
'Age,' stating that his Royal Highness had been turned out of
Lady Lyndhurst's house in consequence of having insulted her in
it. She said she was very anxious to see the letter, for she
heard that the Duke had much the best of it, and that the
Chancellor's letter was evasive and Jesuitical. The next day I
was informed of the details of this affair. I found that the Duke
had called upon her and had been denied; that he had complained
half in jest, and half in earnest, to the Chancellor of her not
letting him in; that on a subsequent day he had called so early
that no orders had been given to the porter, and he was let in;
that his manner and his language had been equally brutal and
offensive; that he afterwards went off upon politics, and abused
the whole Administration, and particularly the Chancellor, and
after staying two or three hours, insulting and offending her in
every way, he took himself off. Soon after he met her somewhere
in the evening, when he attacked her again. She treated him with
all possible indignation, and would have nothing to say to him.

Yesterday I met the Chancellor at the Castle at a Council. He
took me aside, and said that he wished to tell me what had
passed, and to show me the correspondence. He then began, and
said that after the Duke's visit Lady L. had told the Chancellor
of his abuse of him and the Government, but had suppressed the
rest, thinking it was better not to tell him, as it would put him
in a very embarrassing position, and contenting herself with
saying she would never receive the Duke again upon the other
grounds, which were quite sufficient; but that some time after
reports reached her from various quarters (Lord Grey, Lord
Durham, Lord Dudley, and several others) that the Duke went about
talking of her in the most gross and impertinent manner. Upon
hearing this, she thought it right to tell the Chancellor the
other part of his conduct which she had hitherto concealed, and
this she did in general terms, viz. that he had been very
insolent and made an attack upon her. The Chancellor was
exceedingly incensed, but he said after much consideration he
thought it better to let the matter drop; a long time had elapsed
since the offence was committed; all communication had ceased
between all the parties; and he felt the ridicule and inconvenience
of putting himself (holding the high office he did) in personal
collision with a Royal Duke, besides the annoyance which it would
be to Lady Lyndhurst to become publicly the subject of such a
quarrel. There, then, he let the matter rest, but about a
fortnight ago he received a letter from the Duke enclosing a
newspaper to this effect, as well as I can recollect it, for I
was obliged to read the letter in such a hurried way that I
could not bring the exact contents away with me, though I am sure
I do not err in stating their sense:--

    'My Lord,--I think it necessary to enclose to your
    Lordship a newspaper containing a paragraph which I have
    marked, and which relates to a pretended transaction in
    your Lordship's house. I think it necessary and proper to
    contradict this statement, which I need not say is a
    gross falsehood, and I wish, therefore, to have the
    authority of Lady Lyndhurst for contradicting it.
                   'I am, my Lord, yours sincerely,
                                 'Ernest.'

This was the sense of the letter, though it was not so worded; it
was civil enough. The Chancellor answered:--'The Lord Chancellor
with his duty begs to acknowledge the favour of your Royal
Highness's letter. The Lord Chancellor had never seen the
paragraph to which your Royal Highness alludes, and which he
regards with the most perfect indifference, considering it as one
of that series of calumnies to which Lady Lyndhurst has been for
some time exposed from a portion of the press, and which she has
at length learnt to regard with the contempt they deserve.' He
said that he thought it better to let the matter drop, and he
wrote this answer by way of waiving any discussion on the
subject, and that the Duke might contradict the paragraph himself
if he chose to do so. To this the Duke wrote again:--'My Lord,--I
have received your Lordship's answer, which is not so explicit as
I have a right to expect. I repeat again that the statement is
false and scandalous, and I have a right to require Lady
Lyndhurst's sanction to the contradiction which I think it
necessary to give to it.' This letter was written in a more
impertinent style than the other. On the receipt of it the
Chancellor consulted the Duke of Wellington, and the Duke
suggested the following answer, which the Chancellor sent:--'The
Lord Chancellor has had the honour of receiving your Royal
Highness's letter of ----. The Lord Chancellor does not conceive
it necessary to annoy Lady Lyndhurst by troubling her upon the
subject, and with what relates to your Royal Highness the Lord
Chancellor has no concern whatever; but with regard to that part
which states that your Royal Highness had been excluded from the
Lord Chancellor's house, there could be no question that the
respect and grateful attachment which both the Chancellor and
Lady Lyndhurst felt to their Sovereign made it impossible that
any brother of that Sovereign should ever be turned out of his
house.' To this the Duke wrote another letter, in a very sneering
and impertinent tone in the third person, and alluding to the
_loose reports_ which had been current on the subject, and saying
that 'the Chancellor might have his own reasons for not choosing
to speak to Lady Lyndhurst on the subject;' to which the
Chancellor replied that 'he knew nothing of any loose reports,
but that if there were any, in whatever quarter they might have
originated, which went to affect the conduct of Lady Lyndhurst in
the matter in question, they were most false, foul, and
calumnious.' So ended the correspondence; all these latter
expressions were intended to apply to the Duke himself, who is
the person who spread the _loose reports_ and told the lies about
her. When she first denied him, she told Lord Bathurst of it, who
assured her she had done quite right, and that she had better
never let him in, for if she did he would surely invent some lies
about her. Last Sunday week the Chancellor went down to Windsor,
and laid the whole correspondence before the King, who received
him very well, and approved of what he had done; but of course
when he saw the Duke of Cumberland and heard his story, he
concurred in all his abuse of the Chancellor. I think the
Chancellor treated the matter in the best way the case admitted
of. Had he taken it up, he must have resigned his office and
called the Duke out, and what a mixture of folly and scandal this
would have been, and how the woman would have suffered in it all!


[Page Head: QUARREL OF CUMBERLAND AND LYNDHURST.]

August 22nd, 1829 {p.226}

The day before yesterday Sir Henry Cooke called on me, and told
me that he came on the part of the Duke of Cumberland, who had
heard that I had seen the correspondence, and that I had given an
account of it which was unfavourable to him, that his Royal
Highness wished me, therefore, to call on him and hear his
statement of the facts. Cooke then entered into the history, and
told me that it was he who had originally acquainted the Duke
with the reports which were current about him, and had advised
him to contradict them, but that he had not found any opportunity
of taking it up till this paragraph appeared in the 'Age'
newspaper; that the Duke had given him an account of what had
passed, which was that Lady Lyndhurst had begged him to call upon
her, then to dine with her, and upon every occasion had
encouraged him. I heard all he had to say, but declined calling
on the Duke. As I wished, however, that there should be no
misrepresentation in what I said on the subject, I wrote a letter
to Cooke, to be laid before the Duke, in which I gave an account
of the circumstances under which I had been concerned in the
business, stating that I had not expressed any opinion of the
conduct of the parties, and that I did not wish to be in any way
mixed up in it. After I had seen Cooke I went to the Chancellor
and read my letter to him. I found he had not shown the King the
two last letters that had passed; and as Cooke had told me that
the Duke meant to go to Windsor the next day and lay the whole
correspondence before the King, the Chancellor immediately sent
off a messenger with the two letters which the King had not seen.
The Chancellor has since circulated the correspondence among his
friends, but with rather too undignified a desire to submit his
conduct to the judgment of a parcel of people who only laugh at
them both, and are amused with the gossip and malice of the
thing.

August 25th, 1829 {p.227}

I came to town from Stoke yesterday morning, and found a
palavering letter from Cooke, returning mine, saying that the
Duke was quite satisfied, and saw that it would be useless to
have an interview with me; that he had persuaded his Royal
Highness to drop the whole affair; and ended with many protestations
of respect for the Chancellor and the purity of his own motives
in meddling with the matter. I sent his letter to the Chancellor,
together with my own, that he might show them both to the Duke
of Wellington.

Melbourne, who is a pretty good judge of Irish affairs, thinks
that Government will probably be under the necessity of adopting
strong coercive measures there; but whether they are adopted, or
a temporary policy of expedients persisted in, nobody is there
fit to advise what is requisite. The Duke of Northumberland is an
absolute nullity, a bore beyond all bores, and, in spite of his
desire to spend money and be affable, very unpopular. The Duchess
complains of it and can't imagine why, for they do all they can
to be liked, but all in vain.


August 28th, 1829 {p.228}

At Stoke since Tuesday for the Egham races; Esterhazy, Alvanley,
Montrond, Mornay, B. Craven, &c. The King came to the races one
day (the day I was not there) in excellent health. The weather
exceeds everything that ever was known--a constant succession of
gales of wind and tempests of rain, and the sun never shining.
The oats are not cut, and a second crop is growing up, that has
been shaken out of the first. Everybody contemplates with dismay
the approach of winter, which will probably bring with it the
overthrow of the Corn Laws, for corn must be at such a price as
to admit of an immense importation. So much for our domestic
prospect here, to say nothing of Ireland.

[Page Head: RUSSIA AND TURKEY.]

In the meantime the Sultan with his firmness has brought the
Russians to the gates of Constantinople, and not a soul doubts
that they are already there, or that they will be directly; there
is nothing to resist either Diebitsch or Paskiewitch. Esterhazy
talks of it as certain, and so unaccountable does it seem that
Austria should have been a passive spectator of the Russian
victories, that a strong notion prevails that Metternich has made
his bargain with them, and that in the impending partition
Austria is to have her share. Still more extraordinary does it
appear that the Duke, from whom vigour and firmness might have
been expected, should not have interfered. That cursed treaty of
the 6th of July, and the subsequent battle of Navarino, which
were intended to give us a right to arrest the ambition of
Russia, have been rendered nugatory by the obstinacy of the Turks
on the one hand, and the perpetual changes of Administration here
and in France, which have prevented any steady and consistent
course of policy from being followed; while the Russians,
availing themselves of both these circumstances, have pushed on
with singleness of purpose and great vigour of execution. It is
quite impossible now to foresee the end of all this, but the
elements are abroad of as fine disturbances as the most restless
can desire.

France is probably too much occupied with her own affairs to pay
much attention to those of Turkey, nor is it clear that the
French would much regret any event which tended to impair our
commercial greatness. So busy are the French with their own
politics, that even the milliners have left off making caps. Lady
Cowper told me to-day that Madame Maradan complained that she
could get no bonnets, &c., from Paris; for they would occupy
themselves with nothing but the change of Administration.[2]
Nothing can exceed the violence that prevails; the King does
nothing but cry. Polignac is said to have the fatal obstinacy of
a martyr, the worst sort of courage of the _ruat coelum_ sort.
Aberdeen said at dinner at Madame de Lieven's the other day that
he thought him a very clever man; and that the Duke of Wellington
went still further, for he said that he was the ablest man France
had had since the Restoration. I remember him well when he was
courting his first wife, Archy Macdonald's sister; and if being
first a prisoner, then an emigrant, then a miser, and now a saint
can make him a good Minister, he may be one.

      [2] [The Polignac Ministry took office on the 8th of
          August.]


August 31st, 1829 {p.229}

The Duke, the Chancellor, and Privy Seal came from Walmer to-day
for a Cabinet; and Esterhazy, who was to have dined with me, sent
word that as he had received a courier this morning, and was
obliged to send off Dietrichstein this evening, he could not
come. It is said that Sir Frederick Gordon has sent word that the
Turks are frightened and wish to treat, but probably it is now
too late.

Last night news came that Villa Flor had routed Miguel's
expedition against Terceira, and at the same time the little
Queen is embarking with the Empress for the Brazils. This
probably comes too late; some time ago it might have been of some
use. Miguel will probably be recognised by this country, and then
the game is up. I have long been convinced that the Duke meant
eventually to acknowledge Miguel, or he would not have tolerated
Beresford's conduct. If Lamb is to be believed, Beresford was
secretly in it all.

I met the Chancellor this morning, who gave me back my letter and
Cooke's answer. He said, 'There are other reports afloat now, I
hear.' I said, 'What? I have heard none.' 'Oh,' he said, 'on
public matters, and they are put about by that blackguard,'
meaning the Duke of Cumberland. I suppose he alludes to changes
in the Government, but I have heard of none; they are, in fact,
kept in hot water by this fellow's activity, though I think he
cannot do the mischief he would, like.

From what I hear, it is probable that Lord William Bentinck will
be speedily recalled from India. His measures are of too Liberal
a cast to suit the taste of the present Government. The Duke has
never liked him, not since the war in Spain, when he did not
behave quite well to Lord William, and he seldom forgets old
animosities; besides, he cannot bear anybody who takes a line of
their own.

Lord Ellenborough, strong in the concurrence of the Duke, is
inclined to be insolent in his tone to Lord William, which, I
take it, he will not stand. The Duke looks upon Lord William as a
hasty, imprudent man, with bad judgment, and I am not sure that
he is very wrong. He has made himself popular by the affability
and _bonhomie_ of his manner, his magnificence and hospitality,
and the liberal and generous character of his political opinions,
but he is far from a clever man, and I suspect his judgment is
very indifferent.

I hear from Ireland that Doherty conducts the trial of the
policeman with consummate skill; the object was that the trial
should appear fair, and that the men should be acquitted. They
were acquitted, and the people were furious. There is excitement
enough in that wretched country, and every effort is made to keep
it up at its highest pitch; the press on each side teems with
accusations and invectives, and the Protestants strain every
nerve to inflame the spirit of rancorous fury which distinguished
the Brunswickers before the Catholic question was carried, and to
provoke the Catholics to overt acts of violence. Both sides are
to blame, but the Protestants the most. George Villiers wrote me
word of a crime that has been perpetrated, the most atrocious I
ever heard of.... The country in which such an abomination was
perpetrated should be visited with the fate of Sodom and
Gomorrah. The arm of justice is too slow; public indignation
should deal out a rapid and a terrible vengeance.


September 5th, 1829 {p.231}

There is a strong report that the Turks want to treat, and the
proclamation of Diebitsch looks as if the Russians were ready to
make peace. There is also a hope that the Russian army may have
been too bold, and finds itself in a scrape by having advanced
too far from its resources, but the former notion is the most
likely of the two. Three or four sail of the line are ordered out
to the Mediterranean.

[Page Head: MR. WINDHAM'S DIARY.]

Yesterday I went with Amyot to his house, where he showed me a
part of Windham's diary; there are twenty-eight little volumes of
it, begun in 1784, when he was thirty-four years old, and
continued irregularly till his death; it seems to be written very
freely and familiarly, and is probably a correct picture of the
writer's mind. I only read a few pages, which were chiefly
notices of his moving about, where he dined, the company he met,
and other trifles, often very trifling and sometimes not very
decent; it abounds with expressions of self-reproach for
idleness, breach of resolutions, and not taking care of his
health; talks of the books he reads and means to read, and
constantly describes the state of spirits he is in. There is a
paper containing an account of his last interview with Johnson,
shortly before Johnson died; he says that he told Johnson how
much he reproached himself for not having lived more in his
society, and that he had often resolved to be with him as much as
he could, but that his not having done so was a proof of the
fallacy of our resolutions, that he regretted. In Windham's diary
are several Johnsoniana, after the manner of Boswell, only much
shorter, his opinions on one or two subjects briefly given, some
quotations and criticisms. I was much struck with his criticisms
on Virgil, whom he seems to have held in great contempt, and to
have regarded as inferior to Ovid. He says, 'Take away his
imitation of Homer, and what do you leave him?' Of Homer his
admiration was unbounded, although he says that he never read the
whole of the 'Odyssey' in the original, but that everything which
is most admirable in poetry is to be found in Homer. I care the
less about remembering these things because they will probably
appear in print before long.[3]

      [3] [A selection from Mr. Windham's journals was published
          by Mrs. Henry Baring in 1866. The Johnsoniana had
          previously been published by Mr. Croker in his edition
          of Boswell's 'Life of Johnson.']

Windham told Johnson that he regretted having omitted to talk to
him of the most important of all subjects on which he had often
doubted. Johnson said, 'You mean natural and revealed religion,'
and added that the historical evidences of Christianity were so
strong that it was not possible to doubt its truth, that we had
not so much evidence that Caesar died in the Capitol as that
Christ died in the manner related in the Bible; that three out of
four of the Evangelists died in attestation of their evidence,
that the same evidence would be considered irresistible in any
ordinary historical case. Amyot told me, as we were coming along,
that Windham had questioned Johnson about religion, having
doubts, and that Johnson had removed them by this declaration:
if, then, the commonest and hundred times repeated arguments were
sufficient to remove such doubts as were likely to occur to a
mind like Windham's, it may be counted a miracle, for I am sure,
in the ordinary affairs of life, Windham would not have been so
easily satisfied. It has always appeared to me questionable
whether Johnson was a believer (I mean whether his clear and
unbiassed judgment was satisfied) in Christianity; he evidently
dreaded and disliked the subject, and though he would have been
indignant had anybody hinted that he had doubts, his nervous
irritation at any religious discussion betokened a mind ill at
ease on the subject. I learnt one thing from Windham's diary
which I put into immediate practice, and that is, to write mine
on one side only, and leave the other for other matters connected
with the text; it is more convenient certainly.


September 16th, 1829 {p.233}

Went to Brighton on Saturday last to pay Lady Jersey a visit and
shoot at Firle. Jersey and I shot 376 rabbits, the greatest
number that had ever been killed on the hills. The scenery is
very fine--a range of downs looking on one side over the sea, and
on the other over a wide extent of rich flat country. It is said
that Firle is the oldest park in England. It belongs to Lord
Gage.

[Page Head: WELLINGTON AND THE 'MORNING JOURNAL.']

I heard at Brighton for the first time of the Duke of
Wellington's prosecution of the 'Morning Journal,' which was
announced by the paper itself in a paragraph quite as scurrilous
as those for which it is attacked. It seems that he has long made
up his mind to this measure, and that he thinks it is a duty
incumbent on him, which I do not see, and it appears to me to be
an act of great folly. He stands much too high, has performed too
great actions, and the attacks on him were too vulgar and vague
to be under the necessity of any such retaliatory measure as
this, and he lowers his dignity by entering into a conflict with
such an infamous paper, and appearing to care about its abuse. I
think the Chancellor was right, and that he is wrong. There is a
report that the King insists upon the Duke of Cumberland being
Commander-in-Chief, and it is extraordinary how many people think
that he will succeed in turning out the Duke. Lord Harrington
died while I was at Brighton, and it is supposed that the Duke of
Cumberland will try and get the Round Tower,[4] but probably the
King will not like to establish him so near himself. The King has
nearly lost his eyesight, and is to be couched as soon as his
eyes are in a proper state for the operation. He is in a great
fright with his father's fate before him, and indeed nothing is
more probable than that he will become blind and mad too; he is
already a little of both. It is now a question of appointing a
Private Secretary, and Knighton, it is supposed, would be the
man; but if he is to abstain from all business, there would seem
to be no necessity for the appointment, as he will be as little
able to do business with his Private Secretary as with his
Minister.

      [4] Lord Conyngham got the Round Tower, and Lord Combermere
          the regiment--[C.C.G.]

I have been living at Fulham at Lord Wharncliffe's villa for six
or seven weeks; I have lived here in idleness and luxury, giving
dinners, and wasting my time and my money rather more than usual.
I have read next to nothing since I have been here; I am ashamed
to think how little--in short, a most unprofitable life.


September 23rd, 1829

At Fulham till Friday, when I came to town. Went to Stoke on
Saturday, and returned yesterday; old Lady Salisbury, Giles, E.
Capel, and Conroy. There is always something to be learnt from
everybody, if you touch them on the points they know. Giles told
me about the letter to his sister written by Francis,[5] and
which was supposed to have afforded another proof that he was
Junius. Many years ago Francis was in love with his sister, Mrs.
King (at Bath), and one day she received an anonymous letter,
enclosing a copy of verses. The letter said that the writer had
found the verses, and being sure they were meant for her, had
sent them to her. The verses were in Francis' handwriting, the
envelope in a feigned hand. When the discussion arose about
Francis being Junius, Giles said to his sister one day, 'If you
have kept those verses which Francis wrote to you many years ago
at Bath, it would be curious to examine the handwriting and see
if it corresponds with that of Junius.' She found the envelope
and verses, and, on comparing them, the writing of the envelope
was identical with that of Junius as published in Woodfall's
book.

      [5] [Sir Philip Francis, the reputed author of the 'Letters
          of Junius.' This anecdote has since been verified with
          great minuteness by Mr. Twisleton in his researches on
          the authorship of 'Junius.' The copy of verses and the
          envelope in a feigned hand are still in existence. I
          have seen them. The feigned hand appears to be
          identical with that of Junius.]

[Page Head: A MAN WITHOUT MONEY.]

Old Creevey is rather an extraordinary character. I know nothing
of the early part of his history, but I believe he was an
attorney or barrister; he married a widow, who died a few years
ago; she had something, he nothing; he got into Parliament,
belonged to the Whigs, displayed a good deal of shrewdness and
humour, and was for some time very troublesome to the Tory
Government by continually attacking abuses. After some time he
lost his seat, and went to live at Brussels, where he became
intimate with the Duke of Wellington. Then his wife died, upon
which event he was thrown upon the world with about £200 a year
or less, no home, few connections, a great many acquaintance, a
good constitution, and extraordinary spirits. He possesses
nothing but his clothes, no property of any sort; he leads a
vagrant life, visiting a number of people who are delighted to
have him, and sometimes roving about to various places, as fancy
happens to direct, and staying till he has spent what money he
has in his pocket. He has no servant, no home, no creditors; he
buys everything as he wants it at the place he is at; he has no
ties upon him, and has his time entirely at his own disposal and
that of his friends. He is certainly a living proof that a man
may be perfectly happy and exceedingly poor, or rather without
riches, for he suffers none of the privations of poverty and
enjoys many of the advantages of wealth. I think he is the only
man I know in society who possesses nothing.

Captain Dickinson's trial[6] ended last week, with a sentence
which was levelled against Codrington, and which called the
charges groundless, frivolous, and vexatious. It is generally
thought that this sentence might have been spared, though the
acquittal was proper; that Codrington behaved very foolishly, and
in ever mentioning the round robin after he had forgiven it, very
inexcusably; but that, on the other hand, the Admiralty had
displayed a spirit of hostility and rancour against him which
is very disgusting, and that Blackwood was sent down to the
court-martial for the express purpose of bullying and thwarting
him. I saw him after the sentence; he seemed annoyed, but said
that such a sentence made it necessary the matter should not stop
there, and that it must be taken up in Parliament. I cannot see
what he is to gain by that; he may prove that the Ministry of
that day (which was not the Duke's) behaved very ill, but that
has nothing to do with the court-martial.

      [6] [Captain Dickinson fought the 'Genoa' at the battle of
          Navarino after Captain Bathurst, the commander of the
          ship, was killed. A quarrel afterwards took place
          between him and Sir Edward Codrington, and Dickinson
          was tried by court-martial for not making proper use of
          the springs ordered by the Admiral to be placed on the
          anchors, the consequence of which was that her
          broadside was not directed against the enemy, but fired
          into the 'Albion.' Captain Dickinson was honourably
          acquitted of all the charges, and it was proved that
          Sir Edward Codrington's recollection of what had passed
          was inaccurate in some particulars.]

The whole press has risen up in arms against the Duke's
prosecution of the 'Morning Journal,' which appears to me, though
many people think he is right, a great act of weakness and
passion. How can such a man suffer by the attacks of such a
paper, and by such attacks, the sublime of the ridiculous?--'that
he is aiming at the Crown, but _we_ shall take care that he does
not succeed in this.' The idea of the Duke of Wellington seeking
to make himself King, and his ambition successfully resisted by
the editor of a newspaper, 'flogs' any scene in the 'Rehearsal.'
I saw the Duke yesterday morning; he was just come from
Doncaster, where he told me he had been very well received. He
was with Chesterfield, who was to have had a large party.
Afterwards I rode with him, and he took me to see his house,
which is now excellent. He told me that both the King's eyes were
affected, the left the most, and that he would have the operation
performed when they were fit for it; he said that the King never
evinced any fear upon these occasions, that he was always
perfectly cool, and neither feared operations or their possible
consequences; that he remembered when he had a very painful and
dangerous operation performed some time ago upon his head, that
he was not the least nervous about it, nor at all afraid of
dying, for they told him that he would very likely not recover. I
said, 'Then, after all, perhaps he who has the reputation of
being a coward would prove a very brave man if circumstances
occasioned his showing what he is.' He said, 'Very likely;' that
he seemed to have but one fear, that of ridicule: he cannot bear
the society of clever men, for fear of ridicule; he cannot bear
to show himself in public, because he is afraid of the jokes that
may be cut on his person.

In the evening I met Matuscewitz, who is all glorious at the
Russian successes. He, Montrond, and I talked the matter over,
and he said that they should make peace, but of course (I had
said, 'Vous serez modestes, n'est-ce pas?') they should profit by
circumstances; that the Allied Ministers would not be permitted
to interfere, and they should grant such terms as they pleased
without consulting them. This was a lie,[7] for Bandinell had
told me in the morning that the negotiations were going on in
concert with the Ambassadors of the Allies.

      [7] It was not a lie though after all, for I don't believe
          the Allied Ministers had any concern in the matter.
          (December 5th.)--[C.C.G.]


[Page Head: CHATSWORTH.]

November 4th, 1829

Left London the last week in September, and, after visiting at
several country houses, slept at Harborough, and went to Bretby
to breakfast; got there at twelve and found nobody up. In process
of time they came down to breakfast, the party consisting of the
Chancellor and Lady Lyndhurst, the Worcesters, Mrs. Fox, and
Williams, the chaplain, and his wife. I saw very little of the
place, which seems pretty, but not large; a very large unfinished
house. I stayed two or three hours, and went on to Chatsworth,[8]
where I arrived just as they were going to dinner, but was not
expected, and so there was no room at the table. The party was
immense; 40 people sat down to dinner every day, and about 150
servants in the steward's room and servants' hall; there were the
Lievens, Cowpers, Granvilles, Wharncliffes, Granthams, Wiltons,
Stanleys, Belfasts, Newboroughs, Dawsons, Matuscewitz, Clanwilliams,
G. Anson, H. de Ros, &c. Nothing could be more agreeable from the
gaiety of numbers and the entire liberty which prevails; all the
resources of the house--horses, carriages, keepers, &c.--are
placed at the disposal of the guests, and everybody does what
they like best. In the evening they acted charades or danced, and
there was plenty of whist and _écarté_ high and low. It was in
the middle of that party that news came of the negotiations being
begun between the Russians and Turks,[9] and I received a letter
from Robert Grosvenor, which Madame de Lieven was ready to
devour, and she was very angry that I would not let her see the
whole of it. Our Russians were of course triumphant, and the
Princess's good humour was elevated to rapture by a very pretty
compliment which was paid her in the shape of a charade,
admirably got up as a _pièce de circonstance_, and which has
since made some noise in the world. The word was Constantinople,
which was acted: _Constant_, Penelope and the suitors; _Inn_, a
tavern scene; and _Opal_, the story in 'Anne of Geierstein.' The
whole represented the Divan, the arrival of Diebitsch's
Ambassadors, a battle between the Turks and Russians, the victory
of the latter, and ended by Morpeth as Diebitsch laying a crown
of laurel at Madame de Lieven's feet. She was enchanted, and of
course wrote off an account of it to the Empress. The whole thing
is abused as a _bassesse_ by her enemies, but it was very
amusing, and in the Duke's house, who is a friend of the Emperor,
a not unbecoming compliment.

      [8] [The hospitality of Chatsworth in the lifetime of
          William Spencer Cavendish, sixth Duke of Devonshire,
          was princely. The Duke of Portland, Mr. Greville's
          grandfather, married Dorothy, only daughter of William,
          fourth Duke of Devonshire, from whom Mr. Greville
          derived his second name of Cavendish. He was therefore
          second cousin of the sixth Duke and of Lady Granville
          and Lady Carlisle.]

      [9] [The negotiations for the peace of Adrianople, which
          terminated the Russo-Turkish war.]

I returned to Newmarket on the 11th of October. At the end of the
week I had a fall from my horse, which confined me to my room for
ten days. The Arbuthnots were at Newmarket, having come from
Sudbourne, where Lord Hertford had brought the Duke and Huskisson
together. Nothing seems to have passed between them beyond the
common civilities of society, but Huskisson has suffered greatly
from a universal opinion that the meeting was sought by him for
the purpose of re-ingratiating himself with the Duke, and, if
possible, getting into office on any terms. It is a proof of the
low estimation in which his character is held even by those who
rate his talents the highest that all his former political
adherents think this of him. With such a reputation his political
efficacy never can be great again. There was a strong report that
he was to join the Government, which is now dying away. The Duke
is very fortunate, for his most formidable opponents always do
something to lower their own characters and render themselves as
little formidable to him as possible.

[Page Head: IRISH TRIALS.]

The trials in Ireland are just over, and the Government have been
defeated, which I find they think may be productive of very
important consequences to the peace of the country. The obstinacy
of one man, who held out against the other eleven, in the second
batch of conspirators who were tried, obliged them at length to
dismiss the jury, and the prisoners will be tried at the next
assizes; the others were acquitted, though the evidence against
them was the same as that on which Leary, &c., were convicted.
The exertions of O'Connell, who appears to have acted with great
ability, produced this result. The Government say, of course,
that he has acted very ill, but as the Judge, at the conclusion
of the trial, said publicly that the defence had been conducted
with perfect regard to the due administration of the laws, we may
conclude that while he availed himself of every advantage, he did
not overstep the legitimate duty of an advocate to his client. It
is, however, agreed on all hands, notwithstanding these excesses,
that the state of the country is improving, and the Emancipation
Bill producing fresh benefits every day.


November 9th, 1829 {P.239}

Dined to-day with Byng and met Tom Moore, who was very agreeable;
he told us a great deal about his forthcoming 'Life of Byron.' He
is nervous about it; he is employed in conjunction with Scott and
Mackintosh to write a history of England for one of the new
publications like the Family Library.[10] Scott is to write
Scotland, Mackintosh England, and Moore Ireland; and they get
£1,000 apiece; but Scott could not compress his share into one
volume, so he is to have £1,500. The republication of Scott's
works will produce him an enormous fortune; he has already paid
off £30,000 of the Constable bankruptcy debt, and he is to pay
the remaining £30,000 very soon. A new class of readers is
produced by the Bell and Lancaster schools, and this is the cause
of the prodigious and extensive sale of cheap publications. Moore
had received a letter from Madame de Guiccioli to-day; he says
she is not handsome. Byron's exploits, especially at Venice, seem
to have been marvellous. Moore said he wrote with extraordinary
rapidity, but his corrections were frequent and laborious. When
he wrote the address for the opening of Drury Lane Theatre, he
corrected it repeatedly.

     [10] Dr. Lardner's 'Cyclopaedia.' Moore told me that the
          editor of one of the annuals offered him £600 to write
          two articles for his work, but 'that he loathed the
          task' and refused, though the money would have been
          very acceptable. The man said he did not care about the
          merit of the performance, and only wanted his name;
          when Moore refused, the editor raked out some old and
          forgotten lines of his to Perry, and inserted them with
          his name.--[C.C.G.]

I saw Miss Fanny Kemble for the first time on Friday, and was
disappointed. She is short, ill made, with large hands and feet,
an expressive countenance, though not handsome, fine eyes, teeth,
and hair, not devoid of grace, and with great energy and spirit,
her voice good, though she has a little of the drawl of her
family. She wants the pathos and tenderness of Miss O'Neill, and
she excites no emotion; but she is very young, clever, and may
become a very good, perhaps a fine actress. Mrs. Siddons was not
so good at her age. She fills the house every night.

The King, who was to have gone to Brighton, has given it up,
nobody knows why, but it is supposed that the Marchioness is not
well. This morning the Duke and my brother were occupied for half
an hour in endeavouring to fold a letter to his Majesty in a
particular way, which he has prescribed, for he will have his
envelopes made up in some French fashion. I hear he thinks that
he rode Fleur de Lis for the cup at Goodwood, which he may as
well do as think (which he does) that he led the heavy dragoons
at Salamanca.

O'Connell has been making a most infamous speech at Youghal, and
is moving heaven and earth to begin a fresh agitation about the
Union, and to do all the mischief he can. Francis Leveson is to
meet Sheil at dinner to-morrow for the first time; he did not
dare do this without asking leave of Peel. Peel answered his
letter that he 'rather inclined himself to do anything to win
him, but stating that the Duke would urge the difficulties of
their position, and also the King's horror of the man,' &c. The
King's horror is in consequence of his speech about the Duke of
York. I am told Greece is to be erected into a kingdom, with a
boundary line drawn from Volo to Arta, and that the sovereignty
is to be offered to Prince Frederick of Orange, and, if he
refuses it, to Leopold.


[Page Head: SIR JAMES MACKINTOSH]

November 12th, 1829

At Roehampton at Lord Clifden's from Tuesday, the 10th, till
to-day; Sir James Mackintosh, Moore, Poodle Byng,[11] and the
Master of the Rolls. It was uncommonly agreeable. I never was in
Mackintosh's society for so long before, and never was more
filled with admiration. His prodigious memory and the variety and
extent of his information remind me of all I have heard and read
of Burke and Johnson; but his amiable, modest, and unassuming
character makes him far more agreeable than they could either of
them (particularly Johnson) have been, while he is probably
equally instructive and amusing. Not a subject could be mentioned
of which he did not treat with equal facility and abundance, from
the Council of Trent to Voltaire's epistles; every subject, every
character, every work, all were familiar to him, and I do not
know a greater treat than to hear him talk.

     [11] [Hon. Frederick Byng, formerly of the Foreign Office,
          universally known at this time as 'The Poodle,'
          probably because he once kept a fine animal of that
          breed.]

Mackintosh said he was a great reader of novels; had read 'Old
Mortality' four times in English and once in French. Ellis said
he preferred Miss Austen's novels to Scott's. Talked of the old
novelists--Fielding, little read now, Smollett less; Mackintosh
is a great admirer of Swift, and does not think his infamous
conduct to Vanessa quite made out. Talked of the articles of our
religion, and said that they were in almost exact conformity with
certain doctrines laid down in the Council of Trent. The
Jansenists differ very little from our Church, except as to the
doctrine of the Real Presence. Speaking of India, Mackintosh said
that it was very remarkable that we had lost one great empire and
gained another in the same generation, and that it was still a
moot point whether the one really was a gain or the other a loss.
Called America the second Maritime Power. Franklin wept when he
quitted England. When he signed the treaty at Paris, he retired
for a moment and changed his coat. It was remarked, and he said
he had been to put on the coat in which he had been insulted by
Lord Loughborough at the English Council Board. Madame de Staël,
he said, was more agreeable in _tête-à-tête_ than in society; she
despised her children, and said, 'Ils ne me ressemblent pas.' He
told her she did not do them justice, particularly her daughter.
She said, 'C'est une lune bien pâle.' She took an aversion to
Rogers, but when she met him at Bowood, and he told her
anecdotes, she liked him. She had vanquished Brougham, and was
very proud of those conquests.

Moore told several stories which I don't recollect, but this
amused us:--Some Irish had emigrated to some West Indian colony;
the negroes soon learnt their brogue, and when another shipload
of Irish came soon after, the negroes as they sailed in said,
'Ah, Paddy, how are you?' 'Oh, Christ!' said one of them, 'what,
y're become black already!'

Moore, without displaying the astonishing knowledge of
Mackintosh, was very full of information, gaiety, and humour. Two
more delightful days I never passed. I could not help reflecting
what an extraordinary thing success is in this world, when a man
so gifted as Mackintosh has failed completely in public life,
never having attained honours, reputation, or wealth, while so
many ordinary men have reaped an abundant harvest of all. What a
consolation this affords to mediocrity! None can approach
Mackintosh without admiring his extraordinary powers, and at the
same time wondering why they have not produced greater effects in
the world either of literature or politics. His virtues are
obstacles to his success; he has not the art of pushing or of
making himself feared; he is too _doucereux_ and complimentary,
and from some accident or defect in the composition of his
character, and in the course of events which have influenced his
circumstances, he has always been civilly neglected. Both
Mackintosh and Moore told a great many anecdotes, but one morning
at breakfast the latter related a story which struck us all.
Mackintosh said it was enough to furnish materials for a novel,
but that the simple narrative was so striking it ought to be
written down without exaggeration or addition. I afterwards wrote
it down as nearly as I could recollect it. It was Crampton, the
Surgeon-General, who told it to Moore, and Crampton _loquitur_.

[Page Head: SIR PHILIP CRAMPTON'S STORY]

'Some years ago I was present at a duel that was fought between a
young man of the name of MacLoughlin and another Irishman. MacL.
was desperately wounded; his second ran up to him, and thought to
console him with the intelligence that his antagonist had also
fallen. He only replied, "I am sorry for it if he is suffering as
much as I do now." I was struck by the good feeling evinced in
this reply, and took an interest in the fate of the young man. He
recovered, and a few years after my interest was again powerfully
excited by hearing that he had been arrested on suspicion of
having murdered his father-in-law, his mother's second husband.
He was tried and found guilty on the evidence of a soldier who
happened to be passing in the middle of the night near the house
in which the murder was committed. Attracted by a light which
gleamed through the lower part of the window, he approached it,
and through an opening between the shutter and the frame was able
to look into the room. There he saw a man in the act of lifting a
dead body from the floor, while his hands and clothes were
stained all over with blood. He hastened to give information of
what he had seen; MacLoughlin and his mother were apprehended,
and the former, having been identified by the soldier, was found
guilty. There was no evidence against the woman, and she was
consequently acquitted. MacLoughlin conducted himself throughout
the trial with determined calmness, and never could be induced to
acknowledge his guilt. The morning of his execution he had an
interview with his mother; none knew what passed between them,
but when they parted he was heard to say, "Mother, may God
forgive you!" The fate of this young man made a deep impression
on me, till time and passing events effaced the occurrence from
my mind. It was several years afterwards that I one day received
a letter from a lady (a very old and intimate acquaintance)
entreating that I would immediately hasten down to the assistance
of a Roman Catholic priest who was lying dangerously ill at her
house, and the symptoms of whose malady she described. Her
description left me doubtful whether the mind or the body of the
patient was affected. Being unable to leave Dublin, I wrote to
say that if the disease was bodily the case was hopeless, but if
mental I should recommend certain lenitives, for which I added a
prescription. The priest died, and shortly after his death the
lady confided to me an extraordinary and dreadful story. He had
been her confessor and intimate friend, and in moments of agony
and doubt produced by horrible recollections he had revealed to
her a secret which had been imparted to him in confession. He had
received the dying confession of MacLoughlin, who, as it turned
out, was not the murderer of his father-in-law, but had died to
save the life and honour of his mother, by whom the crime had
been really committed. She was a woman of violent passions; she
had quarrelled with her husband in the middle of the night, and
after throwing him from the bed had despatched him by repeated
blows. When she found he was dead she was seized with terror, and
hastening to the apartment of her son, called him to witness the
shocking spectacle and to save her from the consequences of her
crime. It was at this moment, when he was lifting the body and
preparing to remove the bloody evidence of his mother's guilt,
that the soldier passed by and saw him in the performance of his
dreadful task. To the priest alone he acknowledged the truth, but
his last words to his mother were now explained.'


[Page Head: TOM MOORE]

November 20th, 1829

Roehampton. Only Moore and myself; Washington Irving and Maclane,
the American Minister, come to-morrow. Moore spoke in the highest
terms of Luttrell, of his wit and information, and of his
writings, to which he does not think the world does justice,
particularly the 'Advice to Julia,' but he says Luttrell is too
fearful of giving offence. Moore was very agreeable, told a story
of Sir ---- St. George in Ireland. He was to attend a meeting at
which a great many Catholics were to be present (I forget where),
got drunk and lost his hat, when he went into the room where they
were assembled and said, 'Damnation to you all; I came to
emancipate you, and you've stole my hat.' In the evening Moore
sang, but the pianoforte was horrid, and he was not in good
voice; still his singing 'va dritto al cuore,' for it produces an
exceeding sadness, and brings to mind a thousand melancholy
recollections, and generates many melancholy anticipations. He
told me as we came along that with him it required no thought to
write, but that there was no end to it; so many fancies on every
subject crowded on his brain; that he often read what he had
written as if it had been the composition of another, and was
amused; that it was the greatest pleasure to him to compose those
light and trifling pieces, humorous and satirical, which had been
so often successful. He holds Voltaire to have been the most
extraordinary genius that ever lived, on account of his
universality and fertility; talked of Scott and his wonderful
labour and power of composition, as well as the extent to which
he has carried the art of book-making; besides writing this
history of Scotland for Dr. Lardner's 'Encyclopaedia,' he is
working at the prefaces for the republication of the Waverley
Novels, the 'Tales of a Grandfather,' and has still found time to
review Tytler, which he has done out of the scraps and chips of
his other works. A little while ago he had to correct some of the
proofs of the history of Scotland, and, being dissatisfied with
what was done, he nearly wrote it over again, and sent it up to
the editor. Some time after finding another copy of the proofs,
he forgot that he had corrected them before, and he rewrote these
also and sent them up, and the editor is at this moment engaged
in selecting from the two corrected copies the best parts of
each.

Yesterday I met the Chancellor at dinner at the Master of the
Rolls', when he told me about the King and Denman.[12] The King
would not have the Recorder's report last week, because the
Recorder was too ill to attend, and he was resolved not to see
Denman. The Duke went to him, when he threw himself into a
terrible tantrum, and was so violent and irritable that they were
obliged to let him have his own way for fear he should be ill,
which they thought he would otherwise certainly be. He is rather
the more furious with Denman from having been forced to consent
to his having the silk gown, and he said at that time that he
should never set his foot in any house of his; so that business
is at a standstill, and the unfortunate wretches under sentence
of death are suffered to linger on, because he does not choose to
do his duty and admit to his presence an officer to whom he has
taken an aversion. As the Chancellor said to me, 'the fact is, he
is mad.' The fact is that he is a spoiled, selfish, odious beast,
and has no idea of doing anything but what is agreeable to
himself, or of there being any duties attached to the office he
holds. The expenses of the Civil List exceed the allowance in
every branch, every quarter; but nobody can guess how the money
is spent, for the King makes no show and never has anybody there.
My belief is that ---- and ---- ---- plunder him, or rather the
country, between them, in certain stipulated proportions. Among
other expenses his tailor's bill is said to be £4,000 or £5,000 a
year. He is now employed in devising a new dress for the Guards.

     [12] [Thomas Denman, afterwards Lord Denman and Lord Chief
          Justice of England, was at this time Common Serjeant of
          the City of London. George IV. hated him for the part
          he had taken on the Queen's trial, and did all he could
          to prevent his having a silk gown. _Vide supra_,
          p. 156, January 16th, 1829.]


[Page Head: STRAWBERRY HILL]

November 21st, 1829 {p.247}

Maclane, the American Minister, could not come, but Irving did.
He is lively and unassuming, rather vulgar, very good-humoured.
We went to Strawberry Hill to-day--Moore, Ellis, Lady Georgiana,
and I. Ellis is an excellent cicerone; everything is in the state
in which old Horace Walpole left it, and just as his catalogue
and description describe it. He says in that work that he makes
that catalogue to provide against the dispersion of his
collections, and he tied up everything as strictly as possible.
Moore sang in the evening and was very agreeable the whole day.
He said that Byron thought that Crabbe and Coleridge had the most
genius and feeling of any living poet. Nobody reads Crabbe now.
How dangerous it is to be a story-teller, however agreeable the
manner or amusing the budget, for Moore to-day told a story which
he told here last week! However, they all laughed just the same,
except me, and I moralised upon it thus. Clifden is a very odd
man, shrewd and well informed, and somewhat sarcastic, but very
gay and good-humoured, fond of society and the 'Times' newspaper,
a great enemy to the Church, and chuckles over its alarms and its
dangers, but I was amused with a comical contradiction. Somebody
told a story about an erratum in an Irish paper, which said that
such a one had abjured the errors of the Romish Church and
embraced those of the Protestant, at which he was greatly
diverted, and said, 'That is just what I should have said
myself;' and to-day after dinner, all of a sudden, he said grace
(he says grace on Sunday only).

Moore gave an account this morning of his being examined in
Trinity College, Dublin, when a boy, during the rebellion. Many
of the youths (himself, and he says he is pretty sure Croker,
among the number) had taken the oath of the United Irishmen[13]
(Emmett[14] and some others who were in the College had
absconded). The Chancellor (Lord Clare) came to the College,
erected his tribunal, and examined all the students upon oath. He
asked first if they had belonged to any society of United Irish,
and, if the answer was in the affirmative, he asked whom they had
ever seen there and what had passed. Contumacy was punishable by
expulsion and exclusion from every profession. At the end of the
first day's examination Moore went home to his parents, and told
them he could not take an oath which might oblige him to
criminate others (as he should be forced to answer any question
they might choose to put), and though they were poor, and had
conceived great hopes of him, they encouraged him in this
resolution. The next day he was called forth, when he refused to
be sworn, stating his reasons why. The Chancellor said he did not
come there to dispute with him, but added that they should only
ask him general questions, on which he took the oath, but
reserved to himself the power of declining to answer particular
questions. They only asked him such questions as he could
conscientiously answer (they had got all the information they
wanted, and were beginning to relax), but when they had done with
him Lord Clare asked him why he had demurred to answer. He said
he was afraid he might be called on to criminate others, and that
he had never taken an oath before, and naturally felt some
reluctance and dread on such an occasion.

     [13] He did not take the oath till after this examination.

     [14] He had lived in intimacy with Emmett.

Moore told a story of an Irishman who saw from the pit a friend
of his acting Othello, and he called out, 'Larry, Larry, Larry,
there's the least taste in life of your linen hanging out!' One
day in America near the falls of Niagara Moore saw this scene:--
An Indian whose boat was moored to the shore was making love to
the wife of another Indian; the husband came upon them unawares;
he jumped into the boat, when the other cut the cord, and in an
instant it was carried into the middle of the stream, and before
he could seize his paddle was already within the rapids. He
exerted all his force to extricate himself from the peril, but
finding that his efforts were vain, and his canoe was drawn with
increasing rapidity towards the Falls, he threw away his paddle,
drank off at a draught the contents of a bottle of brandy, tossed
the empty bottle into the air, then quietly folded his arms,
extended himself in the boat, and awaited with perfect calmness
his inevitable fate. In a few moments he was whirled down the
Falls and disappeared for ever.

Washington Irving wants sprightliness and more refined manners.
He was in Spain four years, at Madrid, Seville, and Grenada.
While at the latter place he was lodged in the Alhambra, which is
excellently preserved and very beautiful; he gives a deplorable
description of the ignorance and backward state of the Spaniards.
When he returned to France he was utterly uninformed of what had
been passing in Europe while he was in Spain, and he says that he
now constantly hears events alluded to of which he knows nothing.


[Page Head: LORD GLENGALL'S COMEDY]

December 1st, 1829 {p.249}

After I left Roehampton last week came to town and dined with
Byng, Moore, Irving, Sir T. Lawrence, and Vesey Fitzgerald; very
agreeable. No news but the failure of the Spanish expedition
against Mexico, which capitulated, and the soldiers promised
never to bear arms against Mexico again. On Friday went to see
Lord Glengall's comedy, with a prologue by F. Mills and an
epilogue by Alvanley.[15] It succeeded, though the first two acts
went off heavily; not much novelty in it, but the characters well
drawn and some of the situations very good: it amused me very
well, and was exceedingly well acted. Glengall came to me
afterwards to get criticisms on his play. I told him some of the
faults, and he was not in the Sir Fretful line, but took it all
very thankfully. At Roehampton on Sunday; Byng, Sir Robert
Wilson, Sharpe,[16] and Luttrell. There is a joke of Luttrell's
about Sharpe. He was a wholesale hatter formerly; having a dingy
complexion, somebody said he had transferred the colour of his
hats to his face, when Luttrell said that 'it was _darkness which
might be felt_.' Wilson has written to the Sultan a letter full
of advice, and he says the Turks will be more powerful than ever.
Wilson is always full of opinions and facts; the former are wild
and extravagant, the latter generally false.

     [15] [A comedy by the Earl of Glengall, entitled 'The
          Follies of Fashion.']

     [16] [Richard Sharpe, Esq., well known by the _sobriquet_ of
          'Conversation Sharpe.']

No Council yet; the King is employed in altering the uniforms of
the Guards, and has pattern coats with various collars submitted
to him every day. The Duke of Cumberland assists him, and this is
his principal occupation; he sees much more of his tailor than he
does of his Minister. The Duke of Cumberland's boy, who is at
Kew, diverts himself with making the guard turn out several times
in the course of the day to salute him.


December 3rd, 1829 {p.250}

Came from Roehampton. Lady Pembroke and her daughter, Luttrell
and I, and the Lievens, dined there one day. Lady Pembroke was
Countess Woronzow; Lord Pembroke pleaded poverty all his life,
and died leaving each of his five daughters £20,000, and his wife
£200,000 to do what she liked with. Old Woronzow was Ambassador
here many years, has lived here ever since, and never learnt a
word of English. His son Michel is one of the most distinguished
officers in the Russian army, and now Governor of Odessa and the
province of which that city is the capital.

I went to see Glengall's play again, which was much better acted
than the first time, and, having been curtailed, went off very
well. Henry de Ros, Glengall, and I went together. I was very
much amused (but did not venture to show it) at a point in one of
the scenes between Lureall and Sir S. Foster: the latter said,
'Let me tell you, sir, that a country gentleman residing on his
estate is as valuable a member of society as a man of fashion in
London who lives by plundering those who have more money and less
wit than himself;' when De Ros turned to Glengall and said,
'Richard, there appears to me to be a great deal of twaddle in
this play; besides, you throw over the good cause.'


[Page Head: THE RECORDER'S REPORT]

December 5th, 1829 {p.250}

This morning the Duke of Wellington sent for me about the Council
on Monday, and after settling that matter he began talking about
the King's conduct with reference to the Recorder's report. I
told him it was thought very extraordinary. He said, 'You have no
idea what a scene I had with him; there never was anything like
it. I never saw him so violent.' He then rang the bell, when
Drummond (his secretary) appeared, and the Duke desired him to
bring the correspondence with the King about the Recorder, which
was done. He then said, 'I came to town on the Monday for the
Council and report, which was to have been on Tuesday, and which
he had himself settled, without consulting me; in the afternoon
Phillips came to me and said that the Recorder could not attend,
and that they did not know if his Majesty would receive Denman. I
wrote to the King directly this letter.' He then read the letter,
which was to this effect: that he informed the King that the
Recorder was ill, and therefore the Common Serjeant, Mr. Denman,
would have the honour of making the report to his Majesty; that
he thought it right to apprise him of this, and if he had any
objection to receive Mr. Denman, it would be better to put off
the Council, as no other person could now lay the report before
him. 'To this the King wrote an answer, beginning "My dear Duke,"
not as usual,' the Duke said, '"My dear Friend," that the state
of his eyes would not allow him to write by candle-light, and he
was therefore obliged to make use of an amanuensis. The letter
was written by Watson, and signed by the King, "Your sincere
Friend, G. R." It was to the effect that he was quite surprised
the Duke should have made him such a proposal; that he had been
grossly insulted by Denman, and would never admit him to his
presence; that it had been settled the Deputy-Recorder, Arabin,
in the absence of the Recorder, should make the report, and that
he had already done so; that he was surprised, knowing as the
Duke must do the firmness of his character, that he should think
him capable of yielding on this subject; that he never would do
so, and desired the Council might take place, and the report be
made by Arabin.' His letter was much longer, but this was the
pith of it. On the receipt of this the Duke held a consultation
with Peel and the Chancellor, when they determined to put off the
Council, which was done, and the Duke wrote to the King, as
nearly as I can recollect, as follows. This was an admirable
letter--business-like, firm, and respectful:--'That upon the
receipt of his Majesty's letter he had thought it his duty to
consult the Chancellor, and that they had come to the resolution
of postponing the Council and report; that the making of this
report was the privilege of the City of London, and that the
Recorder in the execution of this duty, being unable to attend,
had placed it in the hands of the Common Serjeant, whose duty it
then became to present it; that it was now in his hands, and
could not be withdrawn without his consent; that the only
occasion on which it had been presented by Mr. Serjeant Arabin
had been when the Common Serjeant was on the circuit; that as his
Majesty objected to admit Mr. Denman to his presence, they had
thought it best to put off the Council, as if Mr. Arabin was
summoned he could have no report to present, and there would
probably arise some discussion between the Common Serjeant and
him, which would be a proceeding such as ought not to take place
in his Majesty's palace, and that he would wait upon his Majesty
the next morning and take his commands upon the subject.' The
next day, he continued, he went to Windsor, where he had a grand
scene with his Majesty. 'I am sure,' said the Duke, 'that nobody
can manage him but me.' He repeated all he had said in his
letter, and a great deal more; represented to him that having
given his sanction to the official appointment of Denman since
the Queen's trial, he could not refuse to receive him in the
execution of his duty without alleging legal objections for so
doing; to which the King replied that Lord Liverpool had behaved
very ill to him, and had made him do this; and then he became
very violent, and cursed and swore, and said he never would see
him. The Duke said that he might put off the report; that there
were three men who must be hanged, and it did not signify one
farthing whether they were kept in prison a little longer or
shorter time (he forgets that there are others lying under
sentence of death, probably several), and that he had better put
it off than have the Common Serjeant come down to a scene in his
palace. After letting him run on in his usual way, and exhaust
his violence, he left him, and the report stands over once more;
but the Duke told me that it could not stand over after this, and
if the Recorder is not well enough when the time arrives for the
next report, his Majesty must receive Denman whether he will or
no, and that he shall insist upon it. He told me the whole
history in great detail mixed with pretty severe strictures on
the King. I have put down all I could carry away. I have not such
a memory (or such an invention) as Bourrienne.

[Page Head: THE CIVIL LIST]

The Duke then told me that he had made strong remonstrances about
the excess of expenditure on the Civil List; that in the Lord
Steward's department there had been an excess of £7,000, in that
of the Master of the Horse of £5,000, and that of the Master of
the Robes (the tailor's bill) of £10,000 in the last half-year;[17]
that he had stated that unless they could save the difference in
the next half-year, or pay it out of the Privy Purse, he must go
to Parliament, which would bring the whole of the expenses of the
Civil List under discussion. He said it was very extraordinary,
that the King's expenses appeared to be nothing; his Majesty had
not more tables than he (the Duke) had.

     [17] I am not sure that I am correct in the sums, but very
          nearly so.--[C.C.G.]

I asked him about Brummell and his Consulship. He said Aberdeen
hesitated; that he had offered to take all the responsibility on
himself; that he had in Dudley's time proposed it to him
(Dudley), who had objected, and at last owned he was afraid the
King might not like it, on which he had spoken to the King, who
had made objections, abusing Brummell--said he was a damned
fellow and had behaved very ill to him (the old story, always
himself--_moi, moi, moi_)--but after having let him run out
his tether of abuse, he had at last extracted his consent;
nevertheless Dudley did not give him the appointment. The Duke
said he had no acquaintance with Brummell.




                           CHAPTER VII.

Chapter of the Bath--The Duc de Dino arrested--A Ball to the
  Divan--English Policy in Greece--Sir Thomas Lawrence--
  Gallatin--Court of King's Bench--Accident to the Grand Duke
  Constantine--Osterley--Young Sidney Herbert--Duke of Wellington
  in Office--Stapleton's 'Life of Canning'--Death of Sir Thomas
  Lawrence--Leopold and the Throne of Greece--Canning's Answers
  to Lord Grey--Distressed State of the Country--Canning's
  Greatness and his Failings--Death of Tierney--Sir Martin Shee
  President--The Duke of Wellington's Views and Conduct--The
  Coming Session--Moore's 'Life of Byron'--Character of Byron--
  Opening of Parliament--The Fire King--The Duke of Wellington's
  Speaking--The English Opera House burnt down--Lord Thurlow on
  Kenyon and Buller--Old Rothschild--Lansdowne House--Earl
  Stanhope--John Murray--Departure for Italy.


December 7th, 1829 {p.254}

At Windsor for a Council; the Duke was there, and Lord Aberdeen,
Murray, Lord Rosslyn, the Chancellor, and Herries. There was a
chapter of the Bath, when the Duke of Clarence was installed
Grand Master, Stratford Canning and Robert Gordon Grand Crosses.
The King looked very well, but was very blind. The Council was by
candle-light, but he could not see to read the list, and begged me
to read it for him. However, I was so good a courtier that I held
the candle in such a way as to enable him to read it himself. He
saw the Duke for a short time, and the Chancellor for a long
time. I asked the latter if the King had been _Denmanising_, and
he said, 'Oh, yes--"I said when I consented to that fellow's
having the silk gown that I would never admit him," &c.' I was
amused with old Conyngham, who told me his wife had been in
danger, 'so they tell me,' talking of her as if she were somebody
else's wife. The Duke went from the Council to Stowe; we all
returned to town.


[Page Head: THE DUC DE DINO ARRESTED]

December 9th, 1829 {p.254}

Dined with Prince Lieven; a great dinner--Laval,[1] Granvilles,
Aberdeen, Montrond, &c. The Duc de Dino, who came here to amuse
himself, has been arrested, and Montrond and Vaudreuil begged
Laval to put him on his list of _attachés_ at the Foreign Office,
which would release him from the sponging-house. He was afraid
and made difficulties; they were excessively provoked, but at
last induced him to speak to Lord Aberdeen about it, which he
said he would do after dinner. In the meantime Montrond got me to
tell the story to Aberdeen, which I did, and got him to encourage
Laval to do the business. He then told Laval that I had _aplani_
the matter, at which the Ambassador was rather affronted, but I
suppose the thing will be done and Dino will get out. The Duc de
Dino is Talleyrand's nephew, and his son has married Mademoiselle
de Montmorency, a relation of the Duc de Laval.

      [1] [The Duc de Laval had succeeded Prince Polignac as
          French Ambassador in London.]


December 10th, 1829 {p.255}

Last night Miss Kemble acted Belvidera for the first time, and
with great success.


December 18th, 1829 {p.255}

At Roehampton last Saturday to Monday; Granvilles, Byng, Lord
Ashley, and I. Dino was extricated from prison by Laval's paying
the money, which he did very handsomely; he thought it wrong to
have him in prison and wrong to attach him fictitiously to his
Embassy, so he paid the debt, and Dino is gone back to France.

Despatches were received from Gordon yesterday giving an account
of a ball he had given to the Divan; the Turks came, and the
Reis-Effendi waltzed with a Mrs. Moore. After supper they drank
King George IV.'s health in bumpers of champagne. This story was
told to Lord Sidmouth as a good joke; but he said with a face of
dismay, 'Good God, is it possible? To what extent will these
innovations be carried?'


December 19th, 1829 {p.255}

There is a review in the 'Foreign Quarterly' (the last number) on
Greece, which is a remarkably able critique of the conduct of our
Government in the affairs of that State. The writer, whoever he
may be, has been amply supplied with documents and information,
probably from Paris. Nothing can be more just than his remarks on
our miserable policy, or more severe. I showed it to Lord
Granville, who told me that it was generally correct, though
containing some errors; for instance, that it was not true that
we had engaged to afford the Greeks pecuniary aid, which we never
did promise, but that he had been himself the person to negotiate
with M. de la Ferronays, then Minister for Foreign Affairs at
Paris, for the more limited boundary, and to dissuade the French
from sending their expedition to the Morea; that there had been a
violent contest in the English Cabinet on that subject, Huskisson
and Dudley being in favour of the French expedition, and the Duke
and the rest against it, but that the moment Huskisson and his
party resigned the Duke gave way and agreed to the measure. This
affords another example of his extraordinary mode of proceeding,
that of opposing the views and plans of others violently, and
when he finds opposition fruitless, or likely to become so,
turning short round and adopting them as his own, and taking all
the credit he can get for doing so. He did so in the case of the
recognition of the South American colonies, of the Test and
Corporation Acts, the Catholic question, and in this instance.
Then his conduct on the Corn Bill is only the converse of the
same proposition--begins by being a party to it and then procures
its rejection. Greece and Portugal, if well handled, would afford
two great cases against the Duke's foreign policy, and they serve
as admirable commentaries on each other. The raising the siege of
Previsa, and the respect paid to Miguel's blockade, and
compulsion exercised on the Terceira people are enough to prove
everything.

Ashley told me a curious thing about Sir Thomas Lawrence the
other day. His father kept the inn at Devizes,[2] and when Lord
Shaftesbury's father and mother were once at the inn with Lord
Shaftesbury, then a boy, the innkeeper came into the room and
said he had a son with a genius for drawing, and, if they would
allow him, his little boy should draw their little boy's picture;
on which the little Lawrence was sent for, who produced his chalk
and paper, and made a portrait of the young Lord.

      [2] [Sir Thomas Lawrence's father at one time kept the
          'Black Bear' at Devizes. In 1775 Lord and Lady Kenyon
          had the young prodigy (as he was called) introduced to
          them there. Lawrence was then only six years old.]


[Page Head: GALLATIN]

December 21st, 1829 {p.257}

At Roehampton from Saturday; Maclane, the American Minister,
Washington Irving, Melbourne, Byng, and on Sunday the Lievens to
dinner. Maclane a sensible man, with very good American manners,
which are not refined. Even Irving, who has been so many years
here, has a bluntness which is very foreign to the tone of good
society. Maclane gave me a curious account of Gallatin. He was
born at Geneva, and went over to America early in life, possessed
of nothing; there he set up a little huxtering shop--in I forget
what State--and fell in love with one of the daughters of a poor
woman at whose house he lodged, but he was so destitute that the
mother refused him. In this abject condition accident introduced
him to the celebrated Patrick Henry, who advised him to abandon
trade, and go into the neighbouring State and try to advance
himself by his talents. He followed the advice, and soon began to
make himself known.


December 22nd, 1829 {p.257}

Dined with Byng yesterday and met Moore, Fitzgerald, and
Luttrell. Luttrell is a great lover of conundrums, which taste he
acquired from Beresford, the author of the 'Miseries of Human
Life,' who has invented some very curious but elaborate
conundrums. They are not worth repeating. Moore told a story of
an Irishman at the play calling out, 'Now, boys, a clap for
Wellington!' which being complied with, 'And now silence for the
rest of the family!' He complained that all the humour which used
to break out in an Irish audience is extinct.

Fitzgerald told me that the King had been annoying them as much
as he could, that he took pleasure in making his Government weak,
that the money matter (which the Duke told me of before) had been
settled by 'contrivances,' or that they must have gone to
Parliament for the amount; that he has just ordered plate to the
amount of £25,000. Fitzgerald is so ill that he can scarcely
carry on the business of his office, and yet he does not like to
give it up, for fear of embarrassing the Government; he
complained that the other offices had thrown much of their
business on the Board of Trade, a custom which had grown up in
Huskisson's time, who was the most competent man, and who took it
all. Probably Huskisson was not sorry, by making himself very
useful, to make himself nearly indispensable, and thought that he
was so; and so he was _de jure_, but the Duke would not let him
be so _de facto_.


[Page Head: PRESS PROSECUTIONS]

December 23rd, 1829 {p.258}

Went to the Court of King's Bench this morning to prove that the
Duke of Wellington is a Privy Councillor, on the trial of the
action which the Duke brought against the 'Morning Journal.' The
action brought by the Chancellor had been tried the day before.
Scarlett was feeble; Alexander again defended himself in a very
poor speech; the jury retired for three hours, and I thought
would have said 'Not guilty;' but they brought in a verdict which
is tantamount to a defeat of the prosecution on this charge, and
amply proves the folly of having instituted it at all. I did not
hear the second trial, on which they gave a verdict of guilty,
after consulting for about half an hour. The jury in each case
consisted of eight special jurors and four talesmen. Afterwards
there was a _crim. con._ case, which I did not stay out, but
which was amusing enough from the translations of the counsel,
the Judge, the witnesses, and the interpreters, for some of the
witnesses were French. Lord Tenterden has a comical way of
muttering to himself half aloud as the counsel are speaking,
either answering or commenting on what they say. Scarlett was
saying (in this last case) that he could not prove the fact, but
he could prove that the defendant passed the night in the lady's
room, and the jury might judge what he did, when Tenterden
muttered, 'If he did nothing, what was he there for?'

The prosecution finished with the trial of Bell (of the 'Atlas'),
who made a very good speech (it was about Lord and Lady
Lyndhurst), and the jury found him guilty of publishing only,
which I take to be an acquittal; the point, however, will not be
tried probably, for it is not likely that he will be brought up
for judgment. He will be contented to get off, and they will not
like to stir such a question. The result of the trials proves the
egregious folly of having ever brought them on, especially the
Duke's. One of the verdicts is, as far as he is concerned, an
acquittal; the author showed himself to be so contemptible that
he had better have been treated with indifference. He has been
converted into a sort of martyr, and whatever may have been
thought of the vulgar scurrility of the language, ruin and
imprisonment will appear to most people too severe a punishment
for the offence. Then the whole press have united upon this
occasion, and in some very powerful articles have spread to every
corner of the country the strongest condemnation of the whole
proceeding. The Government, or rather the Duke, is likely to
become unpopular, and no good end will have been answered. I do
not believe that these prosecutions originate in a desire to curb
the press, but merely in that of punishing a writer who had so
violently abused him; not, however, that he would be sorry to
adopt any measure which should tend to fetter free discussion,
and subject the press to future punishment. But this would be a
fearful war to wage, and I do not think he is rash enough to
undertake such a crusade.


December 27th, 1829 {p.259}

At Panshanger since the 24th; Lievens, J. Russell, Montrond, M.
de la Rochefoucauld, F. Lamb. On Christmas Day the Princess
[Lieven] got up a little _fête_ such as is customary all over
Germany. Three trees in great pots were put upon a long table
covered with pink linen; each tree was illuminated with three
circular tiers of coloured wax candles--blue, green, red, and
white. Before each tree was displayed a quantity of toys, gloves,
pocket-handkerchiefs, workboxes, books, and various articles--
presents made to the owner of the tree. It was very pretty. Here
it was only for the children; in Germany the custom extends to
persons of all ages. The Princess told us to-day about the
Emperor of Russia's relapse and the cause of it. He had had a
cold which he had neglected, but at length the physicians had
given him some medicine to produce perspiration, and he was in
bed in that state, the Empress sitting by him reading to him,
when on a sudden a dreadful noise was heard in the next (the
children's) room, followed by loud shrieks. The Empress rushed
into the room, and the Emperor jumped out of bed in his shirt and
followed her. There the children, the governess, and the nurses
were screaming out that Constantine (the second boy, of two years
old) was destroyed; a huge vase of porphyry had been thrown down
and had fallen over the child, who was not to be seen. So great
was the weight and size of the vase that it was several minutes
before it could be raised, though assistance was immediately
fetched, and all that time the Emperor and Empress stood there in
ignorance of the fate of the child, and expecting to see the
removal of the vase discover his mangled body, when to their
delight it was found that the vase had fallen exactly over him,
without doing him the least injury, but the agitation and the
cold brought on a violent fever, which for some time put the
Emperor in great danger. The Princess said she was surprised that
it did not kill the Empress, for she is the most nervous woman in
the world, ever since the conspiracy at the time of his
accession, when her nerves were _ébranlés_ by all she went
through. That scene (of the revolt of the Guards) took place
under the window of the Palace. The whole Imperial Family was
assembled there and saw it all, the Emperor being in the middle
of men by whom they expected him to be assassinated every moment.
During all that time--many hours--the young Empress never spoke,
but stood 'pâle comme une statue,' and when at length it was all
over, and the Emperor returned, she threw herself on her knees
and began to pray.


December 29th, 1829 {p.260}

At Osterley;[3] Lady Euston, Mrs. Sheridan and her son; a very
fine house, which is thrown away, as they hardly ever live there.
They spent £200,000 in building Middleton, which is the worst
place in England, and now they regret it, but Lord Jersey hates
Osterley and likes Middleton. This place belonged to Sir Thomas
Gresham, but the present house is modern. It was here that Sir
Thomas Gresham feasted Queen Elizabeth, and pulled down a wall in
the night which she had found fault with, so that in the morning
she found it was gone.

      [3] [Lord Jersey's seat near Hanwell, Middlesex.]


                              1830.


[Page Head: WELLINGTON AS A MINISTER]

January 2nd, 1830 {p.261}

At Roehampton; William Howard, Baring Wall, and Lady Pembroke's
son;[4] the best sort of youth I have seen for a long while, and
he will have £12,000 a year, besides what his mother may leave
him. Vesey Fitzgerald is so ill that it is doubtful if he will
recover, and, at all events, almost impossible that he should
remain in office. It will be very difficult for the Duke to fill
his place. There is not a man in office now who is fit for it,
and where is he to look for anyone else? Yet I think almost
anybody would take it; for although the late prosecutions are
blamed, and the foreign policy is thought by most people to have
been very miserable, there is an extensive disposition to support
the Duke and to keep him at the head of affairs. Huskisson is the
man whose knowledge and capacity would be of the greatest service
just now, but the Duke will not like to apply to him in a moment
of distress, because he would probably take advantage of that
distress to make better terms for himself; at the same time, I
should not be surprised if the Duke were to invite him to return
to the Cabinet, and that he accepted the Chancellorship of the
Exchequer or one of the Secretaryships without any conditions.
Vesey will be a great loss, for he is clever and ready in debate,
and by great diligence and application, and the powerful
assistance of Hume and Stephen, he has made considerable progress
in the science of trade and commerce.

      [4] [Sidney Herbert, afterwards Lord Herbert of Lea, whose
          life and character did not belie the promise of his
          youth.]


January 5th, 1830 {p.261}

There are many speculations about Vesey's successor; some think
Lord Chandos or Herries; I think Frankland Lewis, but that Lord
Chandos will have some place before long; the Duke has a great
hankering after that set. In the meantime all accounts concur in
admitting the great and increasing distress; and, as such a state
of things not unnaturally produces a good deal of ill-humour, the
Duke is abused for gadding about visiting and shooting while the
country is in difficulty, and it is argued that he must be very
unfeeling and indifferent to it all to amuse himself in this
manner. Nothing can be more unjust than such accusations as
these. The sort of relaxation he takes is necessary to his
health, and, all things considered, it is not extraordinary he
should prefer other people's houses to his own, particularly when
everyone invites him in the most pressing manner. But these
visits by no means interrupt the course of his official business;
all his letters are regularly sent to him, and as regularly
answered every day, and it is his habit to open his letters
himself, to read them all, and to answer all. He never receives
any letter, whatever may be the subject or the situation of the
writer, that he does not answer, and that immediately, to a
degree which is not only unprecedented, but quite unnecessary,
and I think unwise, although certainly it contributes to his
popularity. It is another proof of that simplicity of character
and the absence of all arrogance which are so remarkable in him,
especially as he has long been used to command and to implicit
obedience, and the whole tenor of his conduct since he has been
in office shows that he is covetous of power and authority, and
will not endure anybody who will not be subservient to him; still
in his manner and bearing there is nothing but openness,
frankness, civility, and good-humour. As to his supposed
indifference to the public distress, I firmly believe that his
mind is incessantly occupied with projects for its relief, and
that when unwarped by particular prejudices, partialities, and
antipathies, which have had a stronger and more frequent
influence over him than befits so great a man, he is animated
with a sincere desire to reform abuses of any kind, and is not
diverted from his purpose by any personal considerations or
collateral objects. The King is preparing for a new battle with
him (stimulated, I presume, by the Duke of Cumberland) about the
appointment of sheriffs. He has taken it into his head that he
will not appoint any Roman Catholic sheriff; and as several have
been named, and these generally first on the list, according to
the usual practice, they must be chosen. The King will be obliged
to give way, but it is an additional proof of his bad disposition
and his pleasure in thwarting his Ministers on every possible
occasion.


[Page Head: STAPLETON'S 'MEMOIRS OF CANNING']

January 7th, 1830 {p.263}

Stapleton's 'Memoirs of Canning' are coming out directly, but he
is prevented from making use of all the documents he, or rather
Lady Canning, has. She has had an angry correspondence with the
Foreign Office. Every Minister takes away a _précis_ of all he
has done while in office, but Canning's _précis_ was not finished
when he died. She wrote and demanded that what was incomplete
should be furnished to her, but claimed it as a right, and said
it was for the purpose of vindicating him. Lord Aberdeen declined
giving it, and I think very properly. The reason he assigned was
that a Minister who was furnished with such documents for his own
justification was bound by his oath of secresy not to reveal the
contents, but the secrets of the State could not be imparted to
any irresponsible person, who was under no such restraint.

Vesey Fitzgerald is better, but will hardly be able to do any
business. Some think he will have leave of absence, that Dawson
will exchange offices with Courtenay, and do the business of the
Board of Trade; others, that Herries will succeed Vesey, or
Frankland Lewis. The revenue has fallen off one million and more.
The accounts of distress from the country grow worse and more
desponding, and a return to one pound notes begins to be talked
of.


Roehampton, January 9th, 1830 {p.263}

Yesterday morning died Sir Thomas Lawrence after a very short
illness. Few people knew he was ill before they heard he was
dead. He was _longè primus_ of all living painters, and has left
no one fit to succeed him in the chair of the Royal Academy.
Lawrence was about sixty, very like Canning in appearance,
remarkably gentlemanlike, with very mild manners, though rather
too _doucereux_, agreeable in society, unassuming, and not a
great talker; his mind was highly cultivated, he had a taste for
every kind of literature, and was enthusiastically devoted to his
art; he was very industrious, and painted an enormous number of
portraits, but many of his later works are still unfinished, and
great complaints used to be made of his exacting either the whole
or half payment when he began a picture, but that when he had got
the money he could never be prevailed on to complete it. Although
he is supposed to have earned enormous sums by his paintings, he
has always been a distressed man, without any visible means of
expense, except a magnificent collection of drawings by the
ancient masters, said to be the finest in the world, and procured
at great cost. He was, however, a generous patron of young
artists of merit and talent. It was always said that he lost
money at play, but this assertion seems to have proceeded more
from the difficulty of reconciling his pecuniary embarrassments
with his enormous profits than from any proof of the fact. He was
a great courtier, and is said to have been so devoted to the King
that he would not paint anybody who was personally obnoxious to
his Majesty; but I do not believe this is true. He is an
irreparable loss; since Sir Joshua there has been no painter like
him; his portraits as pictures I think are not nearly so fine as
Sir Joshua's, but as likenesses many of them are quite perfect.
Moore's was the last portrait he painted, and Miss Kemble's his
last drawing.

The King has been very ill; lost forty ounces of blood. Vesey is
better, but has no chance of going on with his office. The
general opinion seems to be that Herries will succeed him. I do
not believe he knows anything of the business of the Board of
Trade. Charles Mills told me yesterday that a proposal was lately
made by Government to the East India Company to reduce their
dividends, and that at the very time this was done Rothschild,
who had £40,000 East India stock, sold it all out, and all his
friends who held any did the same. The matter was eventually
dropped, but he says nobody doubts that N---- gave notice to
Rothschild of the proposed measure. The Company are mightily
satisfied with Lord William Bentinck, who has acted very
handsomely by them in this business by the reduction of the pay
of the troops. He has written some very trimming letters to Lord
Combermere, who is coming home, and if he had not been, would
probably have been recalled. The Duke, as well as the Company, is
furious with Combermere for the part he has acted in the affair.

[Page Head: LEOPOLD AND THE THRONE OF GREECE]

Leopold's election to the throne of Greece seems to be settled,
and while everybody has been wondering what could induce him to
accept it, it turns out that he has been most anxious for it, and
has moved heaven and earth to obtain it; that the greatest
obstacle he has met with has been from the King, who hates him,
and cannot bear that he should become a crowned head. He may
think it 'better to reign in hell than serve in heaven,' but I
should have thought he had a better prospect here, with £50,000 a
year and as uncle to the heiress apparent, than to go to a ruined
country without cities or inhabitants, and where everything is to
be created, and to sit on such a wretched throne as the nominee
of the Allied Powers, by whom he will be held responsible for his
acts; however, 'il ne faut pas disputer des goûts.'

George Bentinck told me that Lady Canning is not satisfied with
Stapleton's book, particularly with that part of it in which he
attempts to answer Lord Grey's speech, which she thinks poor and
spiritless; he is not disposed to be very severe on Lord Grey,
being in a manner connected with him. She is persuaded that that
speech contributed to kill Canning; his feelings were deeply
wounded that not one of his friends said a word in reply to it,
although some of them knew that the facts in Lord Grey's speech
were incorrect. He vehemently desired to be raised to the
peerage, that he might have an opportunity of answering it, and
he had actually composed and spoken to Mrs. Canning the speech
which he intended to make in the House of Lords. A great part of
this she remembers. It seems, too, that to the day of his death
this was the ruling desire of his mind, and he had declared that
the following year, when he should have carried the Corn Bill
through the House of Commons, he would go to the House of Lords
and fight the battle there.


January 17th, 1830 {p.266}

Charles Mills told me the other day that the Chancellor of the
Exchequer has been making enquiries as to the fact of Rothschild
having sold his India stock at the time he did. The two Grants
(Charles and Robert) are always together, and both very forgetful
and unpunctual. Somebody said that if you asked Charles to dine
with you at six on Monday, you were very likely to have Robert at
seven on Tuesday.

Edward Villiers (who has been living with Malcolm on board his
ship in the Mediterranean) writes word that Malcolm told him that
he had orders, in the event of Diebitsch's marching upon
Constantinople, to destroy the Russian fleet. If this is true, it
would have been a great outrage, and a most extraordinary piece
of vigour, after so much long-suffering and endurance.

The country gentlemen are beginning to arrive, and they all tell
the same story as to the universally prevailing distress and the
certainty of things becoming much worse; of the failure of rents
all over England, and the necessity of some decisive measures or
the prospect of general ruin. Of course they differ as to the
measures, but there appears to be a strong leaning towards the
alteration in the currency and one pound notes. It really does
appear, from many representations, that a notion prevails of the
Duke of Wellington's indifference to the state of the country,
and of his disposition to treat the remonstrances and petitions
of the people, as well as their interests and feelings, with
contempt, which I believe most false and unjust. He has an
overweening opinion of his own all-sufficiency, and that is his
besetting sin, and the one which, if anything does, will overturn
his Government, for if he would be less dictatorial and
opinionated, and would call to his assistance such talents and
information as the crisis demands, he would be universally voted
the best man alive to be at the head of the Government; but he
has such a set of men under him, and Peel will never get over the
Catholic question. [Peel got over it, but not before he had
expiated his conduct by being turned out.]


January 20th, 1830 {p.267}

The Duke and Lord Bathurst dined here yesterday, the former not
in good spirits. The battle about Leopold and Greece is still
going on between his Majesty and his Ministers. The Duke was
talking about the robbery at Brussels of the Princess of Orange's
jewels, and that there is reason to believe that Pereira, the
Prince's friend, had some concern in it; many people suspect that
both he and the Prince were concerned. The Princess was in the
country, and only one maid-servant in the house where such
valuable property was left. The jewels were in a case, and the
key of the case was kept in a cabinet, which was opened, the key
taken, and the large case or chest opened by it. Small footsteps
(like those of Pereira, who has very small feet) were traced in
the house or near it, and the day of the robbery the porter was
taken by Pereira's servant to his house and there made drunk. The
robbery was discovered on Friday morning, but no steps were taken
to inform the police till Sunday night.


[Page Head: POLITICAL MORALITY]

January 22nd, 1830 {p.267}

I believe it to be impossible for a man of squeamish and
uncompromising virtue to be a successful politician, and it
requires the nicest feeling and soundest judgment to know upon
what occasions and to what extent it is allowable and expedient
to diverge from the straight line. Statesmen of the greatest
power, and with the purest intentions, are perpetually counteracted
by prejudices, obstinacy, interest, and ignorance; and in order
to be efficient they must turn, and tack, and temporise,
sometimes dissemble. They who are of the _ruat coelum_ sort, who
will carry everything their own way or not at all, must be
content to yield their places to those who are certainly less
scrupulous, and submit to the measures of those who are probably
less wise. But though it is possible that the less rigid and
austere politician may be equally virtuous and disinterested, the
whole context of his life must be such as to endure the most
scrutinising enquiry, which unfortunately it will very seldom do,
in order to establish a character for integrity. If Canning had
had a fair field, he would have done great things, for his lofty
and ambitious genius took an immense sweep, and the vigour of his
intellect, his penetration and sagacity, enabled him to form
mighty plans and work them out with success; but it is impossible
to believe that he was a high-minded man, that he spurned
everything that was dishonest, uncandid, and ungentlemanlike; he
was not above trick and intrigue, and this was the fault of his
character, which was unequal to his genius and understanding.
However, notwithstanding his failings he was the greatest man we
have had for a long time, and if life had been spared to him, and
opposition had not been too much for him, he would have raised
our character abroad, and perhaps found remedies for our
difficulties at home. What a difference between his position and
that of the Duke of Wellington's! Everybody is disposed to
support the latter and give him unlimited credit for good
intentions. The former was obliged to carry men's approbation by
storm, and the moment he had failed, or been caught tripping, he
would have been lost.

[Page Head: DUKE OF WELLINGTON'S POSITION]

The Duke has lately given audience to the West Indians who came
to complain of their sufferings and taxation and to implore
relief. Murray and Goulburn were present, neither of whom, it is
said, spoke a word. The Duke cut them very short, and told them
they were not distressed at all, and that nothing would be done
for them. He is like the philosopher in Molière's play, who says,
'Il ne faut pas dire que vous avez reçu des coups de bâton, mais
qu'il vous semble que vous en avez reçus.'

Lawrence was buried yesterday; a magnificent funeral, which will
have cost, they say, £2,000. The pall was borne by Clanwilliam,
Aberdeen, Sir G. Murray, Croker, Agar Ellis, and three more--I
forget who. There were thirty-two mourning-coaches and eighty
private carriages. The ceremony in the church lasted two hours.
Pretty well for a man who died in very embarrassed circumstances.
The favourites for the chair of the Academy are Shee and Wilkie,
painters, and Westmacott and Chantrey, sculptors.

We were talking of Clanwilliam, who Agar said was the quickest
man he had ever known; Luttrell said he and Rogers were 'the
_quick_ and the _dead_.' Looking over the 'Report of the Woods
and Forests and the Cost of the Palaces,' somebody said 'the
pensive' (meaning the public: see Rejected Addresses) must pay;
Luttrell said 'the public was the pensive and the King the
expensive.'


January 26th, 1830 {p.269}

Yesterday afternoon Tierney died. He sank back in his chair and
expired suddenly, without any previous illness; he had been in an
indifferent state of health for some time, but he had resolved to
make one more effort in Parliament and deliver his opinion on the
present state of affairs. He is a great loss to all his friends;
his political life was already closed.

Shee was elected President of the Royal Academy last night at ten
o'clock. He had sixteen or eighteen votes; Sir William Beechey
six, who was the nearest to Shee; Wilkie only two. He is an
Irishman and a Catholic, a bad painter, a tolerable poet, and a
man of learning, but, it is said, florid.

Had a long conversation with Arbuthnot yesterday, who is weak,
but knows everything; his sentiments are the Duke's. They are
furious with the old Tories, especially Lord Lonsdale, and not
well satisfied with Lowther, whom they suspect to be playing a
sneaking, underhand part. The Duke is determined not to alter his
Government, nor to take anybody in to strengthen it. Arbuthnot
said that the Duke had shown he did not mean to be exclusive when
he had taken in Scarlett and Calcraft, and that 'his friends'
would not have borne any more extensive promotion from that
party; that of all Ministers he was the one who least depended
upon Parliamentary influence and the assistance of the great
families; and that if Lord Lonsdale and all his members were to
leave him to-morrow, he would not care a straw. Still he pays
them, if not court, great deference, and he keeps Lowther, though
he suspects him. Arbuthnot said that as soon as the Duke became
Minister he said to him, 'Now, Duke, for God's sake settle that
question' (the Catholic), which was as much as to say, 'Now that
you have got rid of every enemy and every rival, now that you can
raise your own reputation, and that you will share the glory with
no one, do that which you would never let anybody else do, and
fight for the measure you have been opposing all your life.' It
may be imagined he would not have said this unless he had been
fully aware of the Duke's sentiments on the subject. This speech
was made to him eight months after Canning came into office, when
they _all_ went out, _on the Catholic question_. He says it is
utterly false that the Duke is unconscious of or indifferent to
the distress, but that it is exaggerated, and the Duke attributes
it to temporary and not to permanent causes; that he labours
incessantly on the subject, and his thoughts are constantly
occupied with devising a remedy for it, which he thinks he can
do. He adverted to the difficulties with the King, who is never
to be depended upon, as his father was. He remembers upon
some occasion, when Perceval was Minister, and thought the
difficulties of his situation great, he represented to George III.
his sense of them in a letter; Perceval showed him the King's
answer, which was in these words:--'Do you stand by me as I will
stand by you, and while we stand by each other we have nothing to
fear.'

I told Arbuthnot it was reported that the Duke had given a very
rough answer to the West Indian deputations, and that if he had
it was unwise, as, though he might not adopt such measures of
relief as they desired, he could treat them with soft language.
He said that, so far from it, Lord Chandos had returned to the
Duke the next day, and apologised for their conduct to him,
assuring him that he was ashamed and tired of his connexion with
them, and should withdraw from it as soon as possible. This I
mentioned at Brookes', but Gordon (a West Indian) said that they
had all been shocked at the manner in which he had used them,
that some of them had declared they would never go to him again;
and Spring Rice said that old George Hibbert, who has been their
agent these thirty years, and had attended deputations to every
Prime Minister since Pitt, had told him that he never saw one so
ill received before. It is customary for every deputation to draw
out a minute of their conversation with the Minister, which they
submit to him to admit its correctness. They did so, but the Duke
destroyed their minute, and sent them back one drawn out by
himself, which, however, they declare was not so correct as that
which had been transmitted to him; which I can well believe, but
they had no right to complain of this, on the contrary.


January 30th, 1830 {p.271}

Laid up with the gout these last three days. George Bankes has
resigned, and John Wortley is appointed Secretary to the Board of
Control. He was of the Huskisson party, as it is called (though
it does not deserve the name), and previously to the offer of
this place being made to him was rather inimical to the
Government; but the Duke proposed, and he accepted. I doubt his
being of much use to them. Lord Ellenborough's letter to Sir John
Malcolm, which appeared in the 'Times' a few days ago, has made a
great deal of noise, as it well may, for a more flippant and
injudicious performance has seldom been seen.[5]

      [5] [This letter, which excited much attention at this
          time, will be found in the 'Life of Sir John Malcolm,'
          by Mr. (now Sir John) Kaye, vol. ii. p. 528. It had
          been written a year before, and by some indiscretion
          obtained publicity in India. A warm dispute had broken
          out between Sir John Malcolm, then Governor of Bombay,
          and the Judges of the Supreme Court there. Lord
          Ellenborough took Malcolm's part with great eagerness,
          and said of the Chief Justice, Sir J. P. Grant, that he
          'would be like a wild elephant between two tame ones.'
          This expression was long remembered as a joke against
          Lord Ellenborough.]

[Page Head: THE COMING SESSION]

The greatest curiosity and interest prevail about the
transactions in the ensuing session--whether there will be any
opposition, and from what quarter, how Peel will manage, how the
country gentlemen will act and what language they will hold, and
whether the Duke will produce any plan for alleviating the
distress. I think there will be a great deal of talking and
complaining, a great many half-measures suggested, but no
opposition, and that the Duke will do nothing, and get through
the session without much difficulty. There was to have been a
Council on Thursday to prick the sheriffs, but it was put off on
account of my gout, and I was not able to attend at the dinner at
the Chancellor's on Wednesday for the same reason. I remember
once before a Council was put off because I was at Egham for the
races; that was a Council in '27, I think, to admit foreign corn.


February 1st, 1830 {p.272}

Stapleton's book on Mr. Canning is not to appear. Douglas was
sent to him by Aberdeen to tell him that if anything appeared in
it which ought not to be published he would be turned out of his
office. He wrote to Lady Canning accordingly, who sent him a very
kind answer, desiring him by no means to expose himself to any
such danger, and consenting to the suppression of the work. I am
glad of it on all accounts.


February 3rd, 1830 {p.272}

Brougham has given up Lord Cleveland's borough, and comes in for
Knaresborough, at the Duke of Devonshire's invitation. He is
delighted at the exchange. I see by the 'Gazette' there has been
a compromise with the King about the Catholic sheriffs; only one
(Petre for Yorkshire) is chosen, the others, though first on the
list and no excuses, passed over: they were Townley for
Lancashire and Sir T. Stanley for Cheshire. It is childish and
ridiculous if so; but no matter, as the principle is admitted.

[Page Head: CHARACTER OF LORD BYRON]

I have just finished the first volume of Moore's 'Life of Byron.'
I don't think I like this style of biography, half-way between
ordinary narrative and self-delineation in the shape of letters,
diary, &c. Moore's part is agreeably and feelingly written, and
in a very different style from the 'Life of Sheridan'--no turgid
diction and brilliant antitheses. It is, however, very amusing;
the letters are exceedingly clever, full of wit, humour, and
point, abounding in illustration, imagination, and information,
but not the most agreeable sort of letters. They are joined
together by a succession of little essays upon his character. But
as to life, it is no life at all; it merely tells you that the
details of his life are not tellable, that they would be like
those of Tilly or Casanova, and so indecent, and compromise so
many people, that we must be content to look at his life through
an impenetrable veil. Then in the letters and diary the perpetual
hiatus, and asterisks, and initials are exceedingly tantalising;
but altogether it is very amusing. As to Byron, I have never had
but one opinion about his poetry, which I think of first-rate
excellence; an enormous heresy, of course, more particularly with
those whose political taste rests upon the same foundation that
their religious creed does--that of having been taught what to
admire in the one case as they have been enjoined what to believe
in the other. With regard to his character, I think Moore has
succeeded in proving that he was far from deficient in amiable
qualities; he was high-minded, liberal, generous, and good-natured,
and, if he does not exaggerate his own feelings, a warm-hearted
and sincere friend. But what a wretch he was! how thoroughly
miserable with such splendid talents! how little philosophy!--
wretched on account of his lame foot; not even his successes with
women could reconcile him to a little personal deformity, though
this is too hard a word for it; then tormenting himself to
death nobody can tell why or wherefore. There never was so
ill-regulated a mind, and he had not even the talent of making
his pleasures subservient to his happiness--not any notion of
_enjoyment_; all with him was riot, and debauchery, and rage and
despair. That he very sincerely entertained a bad opinion of
mankind may be easily believed; but so far from his pride and
haughtiness raising him above the influence of the opinion of
those whom he so despised, he was the veriest slave to it that
ever breathed, as he confesses when he says that he was almost
more annoyed at the censure of the meanest than pleased with the
praises of the highest of mankind; and when he deals around his
fierce vituperation or bitter sarcasms, he is only clanking the
chains which, with all his pride, and defiance, and contempt, he
is unable to throw off. Then he despises pretenders and
charlatans of all sorts, while he is himself a pretender, as all
men are who assume a character which does not belong to them, and
affect to be something which they are all the time conscious they
are not in reality. But to 'assume a virtue if you have it not'
is more allowable than to assume a vice which you have not. To
wish to appear better or wiser than we really are is excusable in
itself, and it is only the manner of doing it that may become
ridiculous; but to endeavour to appear worse than we are is a
species of perverted vanity the most disgusting, and a very bad
compliment to the judgment, the morals or the taste of our
acquaintance. Yet, with all his splendid genius, this sort of
vanity certainly distinguished Lord Byron, and that among many
other things proves how deeply a man may be read in human nature,
what an insight he may acquire into the springs of action and
feeling, and yet how incapable he may be of making any practical
application of the knowledge he has acquired and the result of
which he can faithfully delineate. He gives a list of the books
he had read at eighteen which appears incredible, particularly as
he says that he was always idle, and eight years after Scott says
he did not appear well read either in poetry or history. Swift
says 'some men know books as others do Lords--learn their titles,
and then boast of their acquaintance with them,' and so perhaps
at eighteen he knew by name the books he mentions; indeed, the
list contains Hooker, Bacon, Locke, Hobbes, Berkeley, &c. It
sounds rather improbable; but his letters contain allusions to
every sort of literature, and certainly indicate considerable
information. 'Dans le pays des aveugles les borgnes sont rois,'
and Sir Walter Scott might think a man half read who knows all
that is contained in the brains of White's, Brookes', and
Boodle's, and the greater part of the two Houses of Parliament.
But the more one reads and hears of great men the more reconciled
one becomes to one's own mediocrity.

         Say thou, whose thoughts at nothingness repine,
         Shall Byron's fame with Byron's fate be thine?

Who would not prefer any obscurity before such splendid misery as
was the lot of that extraordinary man? Even Moore is not happy.
One thinks how one should like to be envied, and admired, and
applauded, but after all such men suffer more than we know or
they will confess, and their celebrity is dearly purchased.

                 Se di ciascun l'interno affanno
                 Si leggesse in fronte scritto,
                 Quanti guai ch'invidia fanno
                 Ci farebbe pietà.

One word more about Byron and I have done. I was much struck by
the coincidence of style between his letters and his journal, and
that appears to me a proof of the reality and nature which
prevailed in both.


[Page Head: WEAKNESS OF THE GOVERNMENT]

February 5th, 1830 {p.275}

Parliament met yesterday; there was a brisk debate and an
amendment on the Address in each House. The Duke had very
indiscreetly called the distress 'partial' in the Speech, and the
consequence was an amendment moved by Knatchbull declaring it to
be general. The result shows that Government has not the
slightest command over the House of Commons, and that they have
nothing but casual support to rely upon, and that of course will
only be to be had 'dum se bene gesserint.' For a long time Holmes
and their whippers-in thought that they should be in a minority;
but Hume and a large party of Reformers supported them (contrary
to their own expectations), so they got a majority of 50 out of
250. The division was very extraordinary, Brougham, Sadler, and
O'Connell voting together. It is pretty clear, however, that they
are in no danger of being turned out, but that they are
wretchedly off for speakers. Huskisson made a shabby speech
enough, O'Connell his _début_, and a successful one, heard with
profound attention; his manner good and his arguments attended
and replied to. In the Lords there was nothing particular, but
nothing was concerted by any party, for the subject of the
amendment in the Commons was not even touched upon in the Lords,
which is very remarkable. Lord Chandos has refused the Mint,
because they will not give him a seat in the Cabinet, but many
people think it is because he has been pressed to refuse by
his High Tory friends. Charles Ross is the new Lord of the
Admiralty,[6] and Abercromby Chief Baron of Scotland, which
everybody is glad of.

      [6] The appointment has not taken place.

There is a charlatan of the name of Chobert, who calls himself
the Fire King, who has been imposing upon the world for a year or
more, exhibiting all sorts of juggleries in hot ovens, swallowing
poisons, hot lead, &c.; but yesterday he was detected signally,
and after a dreadful uproar was obliged to run away to avoid the
ill-usage of his exasperated audience. He pretended to take
prussic acid, and challenged anybody to produce the poison, which
he engaged to swallow. At last Mr. Wakley, the proprietor of the
'Lancet,' went there with prussic acid, which Chobert refused to
take, and then the whole deception came out, and there is an end
of it; but it has made a great deal of noise, taken everybody in,
and the fellow has made a great deal of money. It was to have
been his last performance, but 'tant va la cruche à l'eau
qu'enfin....


February 13th, 1830 {p.276}

In the House of Lords last night: Lord Holland's motion on
Greece; his speech was amusing, but not so good as he generally
is; Aberdeen wretched, the worst speaker I ever heard and
incapable of a reply; I had no idea he was so bad. The Duke made
a very clever speech, answering Holland and Melbourne, availing
himself with great dexterity of the vulnerable parts of their
speeches and leaving the rest alone. I was sitting by Robert
Grant on the steps of the throne, and said to him, 'That is a
good speech of the Duke's,' and he said, 'He speaks like a great
man;' and so he did; it was bold and manly, and a high tone, not
like a practised debater, but a man with a vigorous mind and
determined character.

In the House of Commons Graham spoke for two hours; Burdett said
not well, but others said the contrary. The Government resolution
moved as an amendment by Dawson was better than his, so it was
adopted without difficulty. Burdett said Peel made the best
speech he ever heard him make, and threw over the Tories. Dined
afterwards with Cowper, Durham, and Glengall. Durham said that
Lord Grey's politics were the same as his, and that before Easter
he thought an Opposition would be formed, and that the elements,
though scattered, exist of a strong one. I doubt it.


[Page Head: THE ENGLISH OPERA HOUSE BURNT]

February 16th, 1830 {p.277}

Last night the English Opera House was burnt down--a magnificent
fire. I was playing at whist at the 'Travellers' with Lord
Granville, Lord Auckland, and Ross, when we saw the whole sky
illuminated and a volume of fire rising in the air. We thought it
was Covent Garden, and directly set off to the spot. We found the
Opera House and several houses in Catherine Street on fire
(sixteen houses), and, though it was three in the morning, the
streets filled by an immense multitude. Nothing could be more
picturesque than the scene, for the flames made it as light as
day and threw a glare upon the strange and motley figures moving
about. All the gentility of London was there from Princess
Esterhazy's ball and all the clubs; gentlemen in their fur
cloaks, pumps, and velvet waistcoats mixed with objects like the
_sans-culottes_ in the French Revolution--men and women
half-dressed, covered with rags and dirt, some with nightcaps or
handkerchiefs round their heads--then the soldiers, the firemen,
and the engines, and the new police running and bustling, and
clearing the way, and clattering along, and all with that intense
interest and restless curiosity produced by the event, and which
received fresh stimulus at every renewed burst of the flames as
they rose in a shower of sparks like gold dust. Poor Arnold lost
everything and was not insured. I trust the paraphernalia of the
Beefsteak Club perished with the rest, for the enmity I bear that
society for the dinner they gave me last year.


February 19th, 1830 {p.277}

In the House of Lords last night to hear Melbourne's motion about
Portugal--a rather long and very bad debate. Melbourne spoke very
ill--case very negligently got up, weakly stated, confused, and
indiscreet--in the same sense as his brother's pamphlet, with
part of which (the first part) none of the members of Canning's
Administration or of Goderich's agree, and consequently it was
answered by Lansdowne and Goderich. The latter made an excellent
speech, the only good one that was made. Aberdeen was wretched;
it is really too bad that a man should be Secretary for Foreign
Affairs who cannot speak better. The Duke made no case for the
Terceira business, and delivered a very poor speech; but I like
his speaking--it is so much to the point, no nonsense and
verbiage about it, and he says strongly and simply what he has to
say. The other night on Greece there was a very brisk skirmish
between Palmerston and Peel, and the former spoke, they say,
remarkably well; the latter, as usual, was in a passion.


February 21st, 1830 {p.278}

Dined with the Chancellor; Granvilles, Hollands, Moore, Luttrell,
Lord Lansdowne, Auckland, and one or two more; very agreeable.
Lord Holland told stories of Lord Thurlow, whom he mimicks, they
say, exactly. When Lord Mansfield died, Thurlow said, 'I
hesitated a long time between Kenyon and Buller. Kenyon was very
intemperate, but Buller was so damned corrupt, and I thought upon
the whole that intemperance was a less fault in a judge than
corruption, not but what there was a damned deal of corruption in
Kenyon's intemperance.' Lady Holland and I very friendly; the
first time I have met her in company since our separation (for we
have never quarrelled). She is mighty anxious to get me back, for
no other reason than because I won't go. Everybody is surprised
at Melbourne's failure the other night; some say he was not well,
some that he did not like the business. I doubt if he is up to
it; he did not speak like a man that has much in him.


February 23rd, 1830 {p.278}

Dined with Lord Bathurst and a dull party; but after dinner Lady
Bathurst began talking about the King, and told me one or two
anecdotes. When the account of Lord Liverpool's seizure reached
the King at Brighton, Peel was at the Pavilion; the King got into
one of his nervous ways, and sent for him in the middle of the
night, desiring he would not dress; so he went down in his
bedgown and sat by the side of the King's bed. Peel has got an
awkward way of thrusting out his hands while he talks, which at
length provoked the King so much that he said, 'Mr. Peel, it is
no use going on so (taking him off) and thrusting out your hands,
which is no answer to my question.'

Went to Esterhazy's ball; talked to old Rothschild, who was there
with his wife and a dandy little Jew son. He says that Polignac's
Government will stand by the King's support and Polignac's own
courage; offered to give me a letter to his brother, who would
give me any information I wanted, squeezed my hand, and looked
like what he is.


[Page Head: WINDSOR CASTLE]

February 25th, 1830 {p.279}

Yesterday at Windsor for a Council; the first time I have seen
one held in the new rooms of the Castle. They are magnificent and
comfortable, the corridor really delightful--furnished through
its whole length of about 500 feet with the luxury of a
drawing-room, and full of fine busts and bronzes, and
entertaining pictures, portraits, and curious antiquities. There
were the Chancellor, the Duke, three Secretaries of State,
Bathurst, and Melville. The King very blind--did not know the
Lord Chancellor, who was standing close to him, and took him for
Peel; he would not give up the point, though, for when he found
his mistake he attributed it to the light, and appealed to Lord
Bathurst, who is stone-blind, and who directly agreed.


February 26th, 1830 {p.279}

Intended to go to the House of Lords to hear the debate on Lord
Stanhope's motion (state of the nation), but went to see Fanny
Kemble in 'Mrs. Beverley' instead. She had a very great success--
house crowded and plenty of emotion--but she does not touch me,
though she did more than in her other parts; however, she is very
good and will be much better.

The debate in the Lords was not lively, and the Duke, they say,
made a most execrable speech. The fact is that he is not up to a
great speech on a great question; he wants the information and
preparation, the discipline of mind, that is necessary, and
accordingly he exposes himself dreadfully, and entirely lost all
the advantages he had gained by the excellent speeches he had
previously made on other and more confined questions. He was very
angry with the Duke of Richmond, whose opposition to him is
considered by the Duke's adherents as a sort of political
parricide. Old Eldon spoke very well, and Radnor; the rest but
moderate.


February 27th, 1830 {p.280}

Dined at Lord Lansdowne's; Moore, Rogers, J. Russell, Spring
Rice, Charles Kemble, Auckland, and Doherty; very agreeable, but
Rogers was overpowered by numbers and loud voices. Doherty told
some good professional stories, and they all agreed that Irish
courts of justice afforded the finest materials for novels and
romances. The 'Mertons' and 'Collegians' are both founded on
facts; the stories are in the 'New Monthly Magazine;' they said
the author had not made the most of the 'Collegians' story. Very
odd nervousness of Moore; he could not tell that story (of
Crampton's), which I begged him to do, and which would not have
been lugged in neck and shoulders, because everybody was telling
just such stories; he is delighted with my note of it. Charles
Kemble talked of his daughter and her success--said she was
twenty, and that she had once seen Mrs. Siddons in 'Lady
Randolph' when she was seven years old. She was so affected in
'Mrs. Beverley' that he was obliged to carry her into her
dressing-room, where she screamed for five minutes; the last
scream (when she throws herself on his body) was involuntary, not
in the part, and she had not intended it, but could not resist
the impulse. She likes Juliet the best of her parts.


February 28th, 1830 {p.280}

Dined yesterday with Lord Stanhope; Murray the bookseller (who
published 'Belisarius'), Wilkie the painter, and Lord Strangford;
nobody else of note. Wilkie appears stern, and might pass for
mad; he said very little. Murray chattered incessantly; talked to
me a great deal about Moore, who would have been mightily
provoked if he had heard him. An odd dinner, not agreeable,
though Lord Stanhope is amusing, so strange in his appearance, so
ultra-Tory and anti-Liberal in his politics, full of information
and a good deal of drollery. Murray told me that Moore is going
to write a 'Life of Petrarch.' Croker would have written
Lawrence's Life if Campbell [the poet] had not seized the task
before anybody else thought of laying hold of it. He has
circulated a command that all persons who have anything to
communicate will send their letters to _his secretary_, and not
to him.


[Page Head: FOR ITALY]

March 2nd, 1830

To-morrow I set out to Italy, after many years of anxiety to go
there, without violent expectations of pleasure, but not thinking
of disappointment. I care not for leaving London or anything in
it; there are a few people whose society I regret, but as to
friends or those who care for me, or for whom I care, I leave few
behind.




                          CHAPTER VIII.

Calais--Beau Brummell--Paris--The Polignac Ministry--Polignac and
  Charles X.--The Duke of Orleans--State of Parties--Talleyrand--
  Lyons--First Impressions of Mountain Scenery--Mont Cenis--
  Turin--Marengo--Genoa--Road to Florence--Pisa--Florence--Lord
  and Lady Burghersh--Thorwaldsen--Lord Cochrane--Rome--
  St. Peter's--Frascati--Grotta Ferrata--Queen Hortense and Louis
  Napoleon--Coliseum--Death of Lady Northampton--The Moses--
  Gardens--Palm Sunday--Sistine Chapel--The Cardinals--Popes--
  Cardinal Albani--The Farnese Palace--A Dead Cardinal--Pasquin--
  Statue of Pompey--Galleries and Catacombs--Bunsen--The Papal
  Benediction--Ceremonies of the Holy Week--The Grand
  Penitentiary--A Confession--Protestant Cemetery--Illumination
  of St. Peter's--Torlonia--Bunsen on the Forum.


[Page Head: PARIS IN MARCH 1830]

Paris, March 6th, 1830 {p.282}

I left London at three o'clock on Wednesday, the 3rd, and arrived
at Dover between twelve and one. Went over in the packet at nine
on Thursday, which was not to have sailed till twelve, but did go
at nine, principally because they heard that I had got despatches,
for I had armed myself with three passports couched in such
terms as were most likely to be useful. A good but rather long
passage--near four hours--and the day magnificent. Landed with
difficulty in boats. Detained at Calais till seven. There I had a
long conversation with Brummell about his Consulship, and was
moved by his account of his own distresses to write to the Duke
of Wellington and ask him to do what he could for him. I found
him in his old lodging, dressing; some pretty pieces of old
furniture in the room, an entire toilet of silver, and a large
green macaw perched on the back of a tattered silk chair with
faded gilding; full of gaiety, impudence, and misery.

Lord Tweeddale came over in the packet, and we dined together. He
was full of the Duke of Richmond's speech about the Duke of
Wellington the other night, which he said had annoyed the Duke of
Wellington more than anything that ever happened to him, and that
the Duke of Richmond was now equally sorry for what he had said.
He (Tweeddale) was employed to carry a message from the one Duke
to the other, which, however, the Duke of Wellington did not take
in good part, nor does it seem that he is at all disposed to lay
aside his resentment. Tweeddale ranks Richmond's talents very
highly, and says he was greatly esteemed in the army.

Left Calais at seven; travelled all night--the roads horrid in
most parts--and arrived at Paris last night at half-past twelve.
Found everything prepared--an excellent apartment, _laquais de
place_, and courier. Called on Lady Stewart and old Madame
Craufurd, and wandered about the whole day. Paris looking gay and
brilliant in the finest weather I ever saw. I find the real
business is not to begin in the Chambers till about the 10th, so
I shall not wait for it. Polignac is said to be very stout, but
the general opinion is that he will be in a minority in the
Chambers; however, as yet I have seen nobody who can give good
information about the state of parties. For the first time
(between Calais and Paris) I saw some new houses and barns
building near Abbeville and Beauvais, and the cottages near
Monsieur de Clermont-Tonnerre's mansion had a very English look.

It is Lent, and very little going on here. During the Carnival
they had a ball for the benefit of the poor, which was attended
by 5,000 people, and produced 116,000 francs. Immense sums were
given in charity, and well appropriated during the severe
weather. There are also nuns (_soeurs de charité_), who visit and
tend the sick, whose institution is far more practically useful
than anything of which our Protestant country can boast. I shall
only stay here a very few days.


[Page Head: IMPENDING CRISIS IN FRANCE]

March 8th, 1830 {p.283}

It will be difficult to get away from this place if I don't go at
once; the plot thickens, and I am in great danger of dawdling on,
Yesterday morning I walked about, visiting, and then went through
the Tuileries and the Carrousel. The Gardens were full of
well-dressed and good-looking people, and the day so fine that it
was a glorious sight. The King is, after all, hardly master of
his own palace, for the people may swarm like bees all around and
through it, and he is the only man in Paris who cannot go into
the Gardens. Dined with Standish, Brooke Greville, Madame Alfred
de Noailles and her daughter, and then went to Madame de
Flahault's to see the world and hear politics. After all, nobody
has an idea how things will turn out, or what are Polignac's
intentions or his resources. Lord Stuart[1] told me that he knew
nothing, but that when he saw all the Ministers perfectly calm
and satisfied, and heard them constantly say all would be well,
although all France and a clear majority in both Chambers seemed
to be against them, he could not help thinking they must have
some reason for such confidence, and something in reserve, of
which people were not aware. Lady Keith,[2] with whom I had a
long talk, told me that she did not believe it possible they
could stand, that there was no revolutionary spirit abroad, but a
strong determination to provide for the stability of their
institutions, a disgust at the obstinacy and pretensions of the
King, and a desire to substitute the Orleans for the reigning
branch, which was becoming very general; that Polignac is wholly
ignorant of France, and will not listen to the opinions of those
who could enlighten him. It is supposed that the King is
determined to push matters to extremity, to try the Chambers, and
if his Ministry are beaten to dissolve them and govern _par
ordonnance du Roi_, then to try and influence the elections and
obtain a Chamber more favourable than the present. Somebody told
her the other day of a conversation which Polignac had recently
had with the King, in which his Majesty said to him, 'Jules,
est-ce que vous m'êtes très-dévoué?' 'Mais oui, Sire; pouvez-vous
en douter?' 'Jusqu'à aller sur l'échafaud?' 'Mais oui. Sire, s'il
le faut.' 'Alors tout ira bien.' It is thought that he has got
into his head the old saying that if Louis XVI. had got upon
horseback he could have arrested the progress of the Revolution--
a piece of nonsense, fit only for a man 'qui n'a rien oublié ni
rien appris.' It is supposed the Address will be carried against
the Government by about 250 to 130. (It was 221 to 180. ---- has
a _tabatière Warin_ of that day, with the names of the 221 on the
lid.) All the names presented to the King yesterday for the
Presidency are obnoxious to him, but he named Royer Collard, who
had twice as many votes as any of the others. It was remarked at
the _séance royale_ that the King dropped his hat, and that the
Duke of Orleans picked it up, and they always make a great deal
of these trifles. The Duke of Orleans is, however, very well with
the Court, and will not stir, let what will happen, though he
probably feels like Macbeth before the murder of Duncan--

       If chance will have me King, why let chance crown me
       Without my stir.

      [1] [Lord Stuart de Rothesay was then British Ambassador in
          Paris.]

      [2] [Married to Count de Flahault; in her own right
          Baroness Keith and Nairn. She died in 1867.]


March 8th, 1830, at night {p.285}

Walked about visiting, and heard all the gossip of Paris from
little Madame Graham, who also invited me to Pozzo di Borgo's box
at the Opera. I don't mean to record the gossip and scandal
unless when I hear something out of the common way and amusing.
Dined with Stuart; Tweeddale, Gurwood, Allen, and some heavy
_attachés_; no French. He appears to live handsomely. Afterwards
to the Opera to see Taglioni, who did not dance; then to Madame
Appony's, to whom I was introduced, and we had plenty of bowing
and smirking and civilities about my family. Rather bored at the
party, and am come home quite resolved to be off on Thursday, but
am greatly puzzled about my route, for everybody recommends a
different one.


March 9th, 1830 {p.285}

Dined with M. de Flahault; met M. de Talleyrand, Madame de Dino,
General Sébastiani, M. Bertin de Vaux, Duc de Broglie, and
Montrond. Sébastiani and Bertin de Vaux are Deputies, and all
violent Oppositionists. After dinner M. de Lescure, another man,
and the young Duc de Valençay, Madame de Dino's son, came in.
They talked politics all the time, and it was curious enough to
me. Bertin is the sort of man in appearance that Tierney was, and
shrewd like him; he is brother to the editor, and principal
manager himself, of the 'Journal des Débats.' Sébastiani is slow
and pompous. The Duc de Broglie is one of the best men in France.
They all agreed that the Government cannot stand. Talleyrand is
as much against it as any of them. Sébastiani told me they should
have 280 against 130. Talleyrand said that it was quite
impossible to predict what might be the result of this contest
(if the Court pushed matters to extremity) both to France and
Europe, and that it was astonishing surrounding nations, and
particularly England, did not see how deeply they were interested
in the event. He said of us, 'Vous avez plus d'argent que de
crédit.' He looks horridly old, but seems vigorous enough and
alive to everything. After dinner they all put their heads
together and chattered politics as fast as they could. Madame de
Flahault is more violent than her husband, and her house is the
resort of all the Liberal party. Went afterwards to the Opera and
saw Maret, the Duc de Bassano, a stupid elderly bourgeois-looking
man, with two very pretty daughters. The battle is to begin in
the Chamber on Saturday or Monday on the Address. Talleyrand told
me that the next three weeks would be the most important of any
period since the Restoration. It is in agitation to deprive him
of his place of Grand Chambellan.


[Page Head: MOUNTAIN SCENERY]

Susa, March 15th, 1830, 9 o'clock. {p.286}

Just arrived at this place at the foot of Mont Cenis. Left Paris
on the 11th, at twelve o'clock at night. On the last day,
Montrond made a dinner for me at a club to see M. des Chapelles
play at whist. I saw it, but was no wiser; but I conclude he
plays very well, for he always wins, is not suspected of
cheating, and excels at all other games. At twelve I got into my
carriage, and (only stopping an hour and a half for two
breakfasts) got to Lyons in forty-eight hours and a half. Journey
not disagreeable, and roads much better than I expected,
particularly after Macon, when they became as good as in England;
but the country presents the same sterile, uninteresting
appearance as that between Calais and Paris--no hedges, no trees,
except tall, stupid-looking poplars, and no châteaux or farm-houses.
I am at a loss to know why a country should look so ill which I
do not believe is either barren or ill cultivated. Lyons is a
magnificent town. It was dark when I arrived, or rather
moonlight, but I could see that the quay we came along was fine,
and yesterday morning I walked about for an hour and was
struck with the grandeur of the place; it is like a great and
magnificent Bath; but I had not time to see much of it, and, with
beautiful weather, I set off at ten o'clock. The mountains (les
Échelles de Savoie) appear almost directly in the distance, but
it was long before I could make out whether they were clouds or
mountains.

After crossing the Pont de Beauvoisin we began to mount the
Échelles, which I did on foot, and I never shall forget the first
impression made upon me by the mountain scenery. It first burst
upon me at a turn of the road--one huge perpendicular rock above
me, a deep ravine with a torrent rushing down and a mountain
covered with pines and ilexes on the other side, and in front
another vast rock which was shining in the reflected light of the
setting sun. I never shall forget it. How I turned round and
round, afraid to miss a particle of the glorious scene. It was
the liveliest impression because it was the first. I walked
nearly to the other post with the most exquisite pleasure, but it
was dark by the time I got to La Grotta. I went on, however, all
night, very unhappy at the idea of losing a great deal of this
scenery, but consoled by the reflection that there was plenty
left. As soon as it was light I found myself in the middle of the
mountains (the Lower Alps), and from thence I proceeded across
the Mont Cenis. Though not the finest pass, to me, who had never
seen anything like it, it appeared perfectly beautiful, every
turn in the road presenting a new combination of Alpine
magnificence. Nothing is more striking than the patches of
cultivation in the midst of the tremendous rocks and precipices,
and in one or two spots there were plots of grass and evergreens,
like an English shrubbery, at the foot of enormous mountains
covered with snow. There was not a breath of air in these
valleys, and the sun was shining in unclouded brightness, so that
there was all the atmosphere of summer below with all the livery
of winter above.

                     The altitude of some tall crag
        That is the eagle's birthplace, or some peak
        Familiar with forgotten years, that shows,
        Inscribed as with the silence of the thought
        Upon its bleak and visionary sides,
        The history of many a winter storm
        Or obscure record of the path of fire.
                               There the sun himself
        At the calm close of Summer's longest day
        Rests his substantial orb; between those heights,
        And on the top of either pinnacle,
        More keenly than elsewhere in night's blue vault
        Sparkle the stars, as of their station proud:
        Thoughts are not busier in the mind of man
        Than the mute agents stirring there,--alone
        Here do I sit and watch.

In one place, too, I remarked high up on the side of the rugged
and barren mountain two or three cottages, to arrive at which
steps had been cut in the rock. No sign of vegetation was near,
so exactly the description of Goldsmith:--

         Dear is that shed to which their souls conform,
         And dear that hill that lifts them to the storm;

[Page Head: THE MONT CENIS]

In another place there was a cluster of houses and a church newly
built. Not far from Lans-le-Bourg (at the foot of Mont Cenis) is
a very strong fort, built by the King of Sardinia, which commands
the road. It has a fine effect perched upon a rock, and
apparently unapproachable. A soldier was pacing the battlement,
and his figure gave life to the scene and exhibited the immensity
of the surrounding objects, so minute did he appear. At
Lans-le-Bourg they put four horses and two mules to my carriage,
but I took my courier's horse and set off to ride up the mountain
with a guide who would insist upon going with me, and who
proposed to take me up a much shorter way by the old road, which,
however, I declined; he was on foot, and made a short cut up the
hill while I rode by the road, which winds in several turns up
the mountain. Fired with mountainous zeal, I had a mind to try
one of these short cuts, and giving my horse to Paolo (my _valet
de chambre_) set off with my guide to climb the next intervening
ascent; but I soon found that I had better have stuck to my
horse, for the immensity of the surrounding objects had deceived
me as to the distance, and the ground was so steep and slippery
that, unprepared as I was for such an attempt, I could not keep
my footing. When about half-way up, I looked ruefully round and
saw steeps above and below covered with ice and snow and loose
earth. I could not get back, and did not know how to get on. I
felt like the man who went up in a balloon, and when a mile in
the air wanted to be let out. My feelings were very like what
Johnson describes at Hawkestone in his tour in Wales. 'He that
mounts the precipices at ---- wonders how he came thither, and
doubts how he shall return; his walk is an adventure and his
departure an escape. He has not the tranquillity but the horrors
of solitude--a kind of turbulent pleasure between fright and
admiration.' My guide, fortunately, was active and strong, and
properly shod so he went first, making steps for me in the snow,
into which I put my feet after his, while with one hand I grasped
the tail of his blue frock and with the other seized bits of twig
or anything I could lay hold of; and in this ludicrous way,
scrambling and clambering, hot and out of breath, to my great joy
I at last got to the road, and for the rest of the ascent
contented myself with my post-horse, who had a set of bells
jingling at his head and was a sorry beast enough. I was never
weary, however, of admiring the scenery. The guide told me he had
often seen Napoleon when he was crossing the mountain, and that
he remembered his being caught in a _tormento_,[3] when his life
was saved by two young Savoyards, who took him on their backs
and carried him to a _rifugio_.[4] He asked them if they were
married, and, finding they were not, enquired how much was enough
to marry upon in that country, and then gave them the requisite
sum, and settled pensions of 600 francs on each of them. One is
dead, the other still receives it. As I got near the top of the
mountain the road, which had hitherto been excellent, became
execrable and the cold intense. I had left summer below and found
winter above. I looked in vain for the chamois, hares, wolves,
and bears, all of which I was told are found there. At last I
arrived at the summit, and found at the inn a friar, the only
inhabitant of the Hospice, who, hearing me say I would go there
(as my carriage was not yet come), offered to go with me; he was
young, fat, rosy, jolly, and dirty, dressed in a black robe with
a travelling-cap on his head, appeared quick and intelligent, and
spoke French and Italian. He took me over the Hospice, which is
now quite empty, and showed me two very decently furnished rooms
which the Emperor Napoleon used to occupy, and two inferior
apartments which had been appropriated to the Empress Maria
Louisa. The N.'s on the _grille_ of the door had been changed for
V.E.'s (Victor Emmanuel) and M.T.'s (Maria Theresa), and
frightful pictures of the Sardinian King and Queen have replaced
the Imperial portraits. All sorts of distinguished people have
slept there _en passant_, and do still when compelled to spend
the night on Mont Cenis. He offered to lodge and feed me, but I
declined. I told him I was glad to see Napoleon's bedroom, as I
took an interest in everything which related to that great man,
at which he seemed extremely pleased, and said, 'Ah, monsieur,
vous êtes donc comme moi.' I dined at the inn (a very bad one) on
some trout which they got for me from the Hospice--very fine
fish, but very ill dressed. The sun was setting by the time I set
off, it was dusk when I had got half-way down the descent, and
dark before I had reached the first stage. When half-way down the
descent, the last rays of the sun were still gilding the tops of
the crags above, and the contrast between that light above and
the darkness below was very fine. From what I saw of it, and from
what I guess, straining my eyes into the darkness to catch the
dim and indistinct shapes of the mountains, the Italian side is
the finest--the most wild and savage and with more variety. On
the French side you are always on the breast of the same
mountain, but on the Italian side you wind along different rocks
always hanging over a precipice with huge black, snow-topped
crags frowning from the other ridge. I was quite unhappy not to
see it. Altogether I never shall forget the pleasure of the two
days' journey and the first sight of the Alps, exceeding the
expectations I had formed, and for years I have enjoyed nothing
so much. The descent (at the beginning of which, by-the-bye, I
was very nearly overturned) only ends at this place, where I
found a tolerable room and a good fire, but the _cameriere_
stinking so abominably of garlic that he impregnated the whole
apartment.

      [3] A _tormento_ (most appropriate name) is a tempest of
          wind, and sleet, and snow, exceedingly dangerous to
          those who are met by it.

      [4] A _rifugio_ is a sort of cabin, of which there are
          several built at certain distances all the way up the
          mountain, where travellers may take shelter.


[Page Head: TURIN]

Turin, March 16th, 1830 {p.291}

Got here early and meant to sleep, but have changed my mind and
am going on. A fine but dull-looking town. Found the two
Forsters, who pressed me to stay. Made an ineffectual attempt to
get into the Egyptian Museum, said to be the finest in the world.
It was collected by Drovetti, the French Consul, and offered to
us for £16,000, which we declined to give, and the King of
Sardinia bought it. Forster told me that this country is rich,
not ill governed, but plunged in bigotry. There are near 400
convents in the King's dominions. It is the dullest town in
Europe, and it is because it looks so dull that I am in a hurry
to get out of it. This morning was cloudy, and presented fresh
combinations of beauty in the mountains when the clouds rolled
round their great white peaks, sometimes blending them in the
murky vapour, and sometimes exhibiting their sharp outlines above
the wreath of mist. I did not part from the Alps without casting
many a lingering look behind.


Genoa, March 18th, 1830 {p.291}

Got on so quick from Turin that I went to Alessandria that night,
and set off at half-past six yesterday morning. Crossed the field
of battle of Marengo, a boundless plain (now thickly studded with
trees and houses), and saw the spot where Desaix was killed. The
bridge over the Bormida which Melas crossed to attack the French
army is gone, but another has been built near it. The Austrians
or Sardinians have taken down the column which was erected to the
memory of Desaix on the spot where he fell; they might as well
have left it, for the place will always be celebrated, though
they only did as the French had done before. After the battle of
Jena they took down the Column of Rossbach,[5] but that was
erected to commemorate the victory, and this the death of the
hero. I feel like Johnson--'far far from me and my friends be
that frigid philosophy which can make us pass unmoved over any
scenes which have been consecrated by virtue, by valour, or by
wisdom'--and I strained the eyes of my imagination to see all the
tumult of this famous battle, in which Bonaparte had been
actually defeated, yet (one can hardly now tell how) was in the
end completely victorious. This pillar might have been left, too,
as a striking memorial of the rapid vicissitudes of fortune: the
removal of it has been here so quick, and at Rossbach so tardy, a
reparation of national honour.

      [5] The battle of Rossbach was gained by Frederick the
          Great over the French and Austrians in 1757.

[Page Head: PALACES AND CHURCHES OF GENOA]

The Apennines are nothing after the Alps, but the descent to
Genoa is very pretty, and Genoa itself exceeds everything I ever
saw in point of beauty and magnificence.

      How boldly doth it front us, how majestically--
      Like a luxurious vineyard: the hill-side
      Is hung with marble fabrics, line o'er line,
      Terrace o'er terrace, nearer still and nearer
      To the blue heavens, here bright and sumptuous palaces
      With cool and verdant garden interspersed.
                 *     *     *     *     *     *
      While over all hangs the rich purple eve.
                                   MILMAN's _Fall of Jerusalem_.

I passed the whole day after I got here in looking into the
palaces and gardens and admiring the prospect on every side. You
are met at every turn by vestiges of the old Republic; in fact,
the town has undergone very little alteration for hundreds of
years, and there is an air of gaiety and bustling activity which,
with the graceful costume of the men and women, make it a most
delightful picture. Genoa appears to be a city of palaces, and
although many of the largest are now converted to humbler uses,
and many fallen to decay, there are ample remains to show the
former grandeur of the princely merchants who were once the lords
of the ocean. Everything bespeaks solidity, durability, and
magnificence. There are stupendous works which were done at the
expense of individuals. In every part of the town are paintings
and frescoes, which, in spite of constant exposure to the
atmosphere, have retained much of their brilliancy and freshness.
The palaces of Doria are the most interesting; but why the Senate
gave him that which bears still the inscription denoting its
being their gift it is difficult to say, when his own is so
superior and in a more agreeable situation. The old palace of
Andrew is now let for lodgings, and the Pamfili Doria live at
Rome. The walls are covered with inscriptions, and I stopped to
read two on stone slabs on the spot where the houses of
malefactors had formerly stood, monuments of the vindictive laws
of the Republic, which not only punished the criminal himself,
but consigned his children to infamy and his habitation to
destruction; though they stand together they are not of the same
date. There is no temptation to violate the decree by building
again on the spot, for they are in a narrow, dirty court, to
which light can scarcely find access. The Ducal Palace now
belongs to the Governor. It has been modernised, but in the dark
alleys adjoining there are remains demonstrative of its former
extent--pictures of the different Doges in fresco on the walls
half erased, and little bridges extending from the windows (or
doors) of the palace to the public prisons and other adjoining
buildings. The view from my _albergo_ (_della villa_) is the
gayest imaginable, looking over the harbour, which is crowded
with sailors and boats full of animation.

[Page Head: PALACES AND CHURCHES OF GENOA]

_Evening._--Passed the whole day seeing sights. Called on Madame
Durazzo, and went with her and her niece, Madame Ferrari, to the
King's palace, formerly a Durazzo palace. Like the others, a fine
house, full of painting and gilding, and with a terrace of black
and white marble commanding a view of the sea. The finest picture
is a Paul Veronese of a Magdalen with our Saviour. The King and
Queen sleep together, and on each side of the royal bed there is
an assortment of ivory palms, crucifixes, boxes for holy water,
and other spiritual guards for their souls. For the comfort of
their bodies he has had a machine made like a car, which is drawn
up by a chain from the bottom to the top of the house; it holds
about six people, who can be at pleasure elevated to any storey,
and at each landing-place there is a contrivance to let them in
and out. From thence to the Brignole Palace (called the Palazzo
Rosso), where I met M. and Madame de Brignole, who were very
civil and ordered a scientific footman to show us the pictures.
They are numerous and excellent, but we could only take a cursory
look at them; the best are the Vandykes, particularly a Christ
and a portrait of one of the Brignoles on horseback, and a
beautiful Carlo Dolce, a small bleeding Christ. I saw the
churches--San Stefano, Annunziata, the Duomo, San Ambrosio, San
Cyro. There are two splendid pictures in the Ambrosio, a Guido
and a Rubens; the Martyrdom in the San Stefano, by Julio Romano
and Raphael, went to Paris and was brought back in 1814. The
churches have a profusion of marble, and gilding, and frescoes;
the Duomo is of black and white marble, of mixed architecture,
and highly ornamented--all stinking to a degree that was
perfectly intolerable, and the same thing whether empty or full;
it is the smell of stale incense mixed with garlic and human
odour, horrible combination of poisonous exhalations. I must say,
as everybody has before remarked, that there is something highly
edifying in the appearance of devotion which belongs to the
Catholic religion; the churches are always open, and, go into
them when you will, you see men and women kneeling and praying
before this or that altar, absorbed in their occupation, and who
must have been led there by some devotional feeling. This seems
more accordant with the spirit and essence of religion than to
have the churches, as ours are, opened like theatres at stated
hours and days for the performance of a long service, at the end
of which the audience is turned out and the doors are locked till
the next representation. Then the Catholic religion makes no
distinctions between poverty and wealth--no pews for the
aristocracy well warmed and furnished, or seats set apart for the
rich and well dressed; here the church is open to all, and the
beggar in rags comes and takes his place by the side of the lady
in silks, and both, kneel on the same pavement, for the moment at
least and in that place reduced to the same level.

I saw the Ducal Palace, where there are two very fine halls,[6]
the old Hall of Audience and the Hall of Council, the latter 150
by 57 feet; and the Doria Palace, delightfully situated with a
garden and fine fountain, and a curious old gallery opening upon
a marble terrace, richly painted, gilt and carved, though, now
decayed. Here the Emperor Napoleon lived when he was at Genoa,
preferring Andrew Doria's palace to a better lodging: he had some
poetry in his ambition after all. Lastly to the Albergo dei
Poveri,[7] a noble institution, built by a Brignole and enriched
by repeated benefactions; like all the edifices of the old
Genoese, vast and of fine proportions. The great staircase and
hall are adorned with colossal statues of its benefactors (among
whom are many Durazzos), and the sums that they gave or
bequeathed are commemorated on the pedestals. In the chapel is a
piece of sculpture by Michael Angelo, a dead Christ and Virgin
(only heads), and an altarpiece by Puget. Branching out from the
chapel are two vast chambers, lofty, airy, and light, one for the
men, the other for the women. About 800 men and 1,200 or 1,300
women are supported here. Many of the nobles are said to be
rich--Ferrari, Brignole, Durazzo, and Pallavicini particularly. I
forgot to mention the chapel and tomb of Andrew Doria; the chapel
he built himself; his body, arrayed in princely robes, lies in
the vault. There is a Latin inscription on the chapel, signifying
that he stood by the country in the days of her affliction. It is
a pretty little chapel full of painting and gilding. In the early
part of the Revolution the tomb narrowly escaped destruction, but
it was saved by the solidity of its materials. I gave the man who
showed me this tomb a franc, and he kissed my hand in a transport
of gratitude.

      [6] They are left just in the state in which they were in
          the time of the Republic; the balustrade still
          surrounds the elevated platform on which the throne of
          the Doge was placed.

      [7] The Albergo dei Poveri and the Scoghetti Gardens
          pleased me more than anything I saw in Genoa. I am
          sorry I did not see the Sordi e Muti, which is
          admirably conducted, and where the pupils by all
          accounts perform wonders. The Albergo is managed by a
          committee consisting of the principal nobles in the
          town. The Scoghetti Gardens are delightfully laid out;
          there is a shrubbery of evergreens with a cascade, and
          a summer-house paved with tiles--two or three rooms in
          it, and a hot and cold bath. It is astonishing how they
          cherish the memory of 'Lord Bentinck.'[7a] I heard of him in
          various parts of the town, particularly here, as he
          lived in the house when first he came to Genoa. The
          Gardens command a fine view of the city, the sea, and
          the mountains. The saloon in the Serra is only a very
          splendid room, glittering with glass, and gold, and
          lapis lazuli; by no means deserves to be called, as it
          is by Forsyth, the finest saloon in Europe. It is not
          very large, and not much more gilt than Crockford's
          drawing-room, but looks cleaner, though it has been
          done these seventy years or more.

     [7a] [Lord William Bentinck was Mr. Greville's uncle.]


[Page Head: SESTRI AND PISA]

Florence, March 21st, 1830 {p.296}

Arrived here at seven o'clock. Left Genoa on the 19th (having
previously gone to see the Scoghetti Gardens and the Serra
Palace), and went to Sestri to pass that evening and the next
morning with William Ponsonby, who was staying there. The road
from Genoa to Chiavari is one continual course of magnificent
scenery, winding along the side of the mountains and hanging over
the sea, the mountains studded with villages, villas, and
cottages which appear like white specks at a distance, till on
near approach they swell into life and activity. The villas are
generally painted as at Genoa; the orange trees were in full
bloom, and the gardens often slope down to the very margin of the
sea. Every turn in the road and each fresh ascent supplies a new
prospect, and the parting view of Genoa, with the ocean before
and the Apennines behind, cannot be imagined by those who have
not seen it. 'Si quod vere natura nobis dedit spectaculum in hac
tellure vere gratum et philosopho dignum, id semel, mihi
contigisse arbitror, cum ex celsissimâ rupe speculabundus ad oram
maris mediterranei, hinc aequor caeruleum, illinc tractus Alpinos
prospexi, nihil quidem magis dispar aut dissimile nec in suo
genere magis egregium et singulare.'[8]

      [8] Burnet's 'Theory of the Earth.'

Chiavari and Sestri are both beautiful, especially the latter, in
a little bay with a jutting promontory, a rocky hill covered with
evergreens, and shrubs, and heather, and affording grand and
various prospects of the still blue sea and the white and shining
coast with the dark mountains behind--

                                         A sunny bay
            Where the salt sea innocuously breaks
            And the sea breeze as innocently breathes
            On Sestri's leafy shores--a sheltered hold
            In a soft clime encouraging the soil
            To a luxuriant beauty.

[Page Head: FLORENCE]

The mountain road from Chiavari to La Spezzia presents the same
scenery as far as Massa and Carrara, which I unfortunately lost
by travelling in the night. I crossed the river in the boat by
candle-light, which was picturesque enough, the scanty light
gleaming upon the rough figures who escorted me and plied the
enormous poles by which they move the ferry-boat. Got to Pisa to
breakfast (without stopping at Lucca), and passed three hours
looking at the Cathedral, Leaning Tower, Baptistry, and Campo
Santo, the last of which alone would take up the whole day to be
seen as it ought. The Cathedral is under repair; the pictures
have been covered up or taken down, and the whole church was full
of rubbish and scaffolding; but in this state I could see how
fine it is, and admire the columns which Forsyth praises, and the
roof and many of the marbles. The Grand Duke has ordered it all
to be cleaned, and very little of it to be altered. One
alteration, however, is in very bad taste; he has taken away the
old confessionals of carved wood, and substituted others of
marble, fixed in the wall, which are exactly like modern
chimney-pieces, and have the worst effect amidst the surrounding
antiquities. The exterior is rather fantastic, but the columns
are beautiful, and John of Bologna's bronze doors admirable. The
Campo Santo is full of ancient tombs, frescoes, modern busts, and
morsels of sculpture of all ages and descriptions. The Leaning
Tower[9] is 190 feet high, and there are 293 steps to the top of
it, which I climbed up to view the surrounding country, but it
was not clear enough to see the sea and Elba. Here is the finest
aqueduct I have seen, which continues to pour water into the
town. Part of the old wall[10] with its towers is still standing.
These pugnacious republics, who were always squabbling with each
other and wasting their strength in civil broils, erected very
massive defences. The Pisans are proud of their ancient exploits.
The San Stefano or Chiesa dei Cavalieri is full of standards
taken from the Turks, and the man who showed me the Campo Santo
said that a magnificent Grecian vase which is there had been
brought from Genoa by the Pisans before the foundation of Rome.
There are Egyptian, Etruscan, Roman, and Grecian remains, which
have been plundered, or conquered, or purchased by patriotic
Pisans to enrich their native city. The frescoes are greatly
damaged. I went to look at the celebrated house 'Alla Giornata,'
a white marble palace on the Arno; the chains still hang over the
door, and there is an inscription above them which looks modern.
My _laquais de place_ told me what I suppose is the tradition of
the place--that the son of the family was taken by the Turks, and
that they had captured a Turk, who was put in chains; that an
exchange was agreed upon, and the prisoners on either side
released, and that the chains were hung up and the inscription
added, signifying that the Turk was at liberty to go again into
the light of day. But it was a lame and improbable story, and I
prefer the mystery to the explanation.

      [9] There was another leaning edifice, but the Grand Duke
          had it pulled down; it was thought dangerous.

     [10] It had been destroyed, but was restored by the Medici
          or the present family.

Much as I was charmed with the mountains, I was not sorry, for a
change, to get into the rich, broad plain of Tuscany, full of
vineyards and habitations along the banks of the Arno. The voice
and aspect of cheerfulness is refreshing after a course of rugged
and barren grandeur; the road is excellent and the travelling
rapid. Yesterday being a holiday, and to-day Sunday, the whole
population in their best dresses have been out on the road, and
very good-looking they generally are. There are not more beggars
than in France, and certainly a far greater appearance of
prosperity throughout the north of Italy than in any part of
France I have seen, although there are the same complaints of
distress and poverty here that are heard both there and in
England. Thorwaldsen, the sculptor, is in this inn, and the King
of Bavaria left it this morning. The book of strangers is rather
amusing; the entries are sometimes remarkable or ridiculous. I
found 'La Duchesse de Saint-Leu et le Prince Louis-Napoléon; Lord
and Lady Shrewsbury and family; Miss Caroline Grinwell, of New
York; the King of Bavaria (not down in the book though);
Thorwaldsen'. Tuscany seems to be flourishing and contented; the
Government is absolute but mild, the Grand Duke enormously rich.


March 23rd, 1830 {p.299}

Yesterday morning breakfasted with Lord Normanby, who has got a
house extending 200 feet in front, court, garden, and stables for
about £280 a year, everything else cheap in proportion, and upon
£2,000 a year a man may live luxuriously. His house was
originally fitted up for the Pretender, and C. R.'s are still to
be seen all over the place. Called on Lord Burghersh,[11] who was
at breakfast--the table covered with manuscript music, a
pianoforte, two fiddles, and a fiddler in the room. He was full
of composition and getting up his opera of 'Phaedra' for
to-morrow night. The Embassy is the seat of the Arts, for Lady
Burghersh has received the gift of painting as if by inspiration,
and she was in a brown robe in the midst of oils, and brushes,
and canvas; and a model was in attendance, some part of whose
person was to be introduced into a fancy piece. She copies
pictures in the Gallery, and really extraordinarily well if it be
true that till a year ago she had never had a brush in her hand,
and that she is still quite ignorant of drawing.

     [11] [Lord Burghersh, afterwards Earl of Westmoreland, was
          then British Minister at Florence.]

Went into two or three of the churches, then to the Gallery, and
sat for half an hour in the Tribune, but could not work myself
into a proper enthusiasm for the 'Venus,' whose head is too small
and ankles too thick, but they say the more I see her the more I
shall like her. I prefer the 'Wrestlers,' and the head of the
'Remontleur' is the only good _head_ I have seen, the only one
with expression. 'Niobe' is fine, but I can't bear her children,
except one. Then to the Casine on horseback to see the town and
the world: it seems a very enjoyable place. This morning again
dropped into some of the churches, after which I have always a
hankering, though there is great sameness in them, but I have a
childish liking for Catholic pomp. The fine things are lost
amidst a heap of rubbish, but there is no lack of marble, and
painting, and gilding in most of them. They are going on with the
Medici Chapel, on which millions have been wasted and more is
going after, for the Grand Duke is gradually finishing the work.
The profusion of marble is immense, and very fine and curious if
examined in detail; the precious stones are hardly seen, and when
they are, not to be recognised as such. To the Pitti Palace, of
which one part is under repair and not visible, but I saw most of
the best pictures. I like pictures better than statues. It is a
beautiful palace, and well furnished for show. Nobody knows what
Vandyke was without coming here. To the Gabinetto Fisico, and
saw all the wax-works, the progress of gestation, and the
representation of the plague, incomparably clever and well
executed. I saw nothing disgusting in the wax-works in the
museum, which many people are so squeamish about.

Before dinner yesterday called upon Thorwaldsen, who was in the
inn, to tell him Lord Gower likes his 'Ganymede.' He was mighty
polite, squeezed my hand, and reconducted me to my own door. At
night went to the Opera and heard David and Grisi in 'Ricciardo e
Zoraida.' She is like Pasta in face and figure, but much
handsomer, though with less expression. She is only eighteen. He
has lost much of his voice, and embroiders to make up for it, but
every now and then he appears to find it again, and his taste and
expression are exquisite. To-night at a child's ball at Lady
Williamson's, where I was introduced to Lord Cochrane, and had a
great deal of talk with him; told him I thought things would
explode at last in England, which he concurred in, and seemed to
like the idea of it, in which we differ, owing probably to the
difference of our positions; he has nothing, and I everything, to
lose by such an event.


[Page Head: FLORENCE]

March 25th, 1830 {p.301}

Went yesterday morning to Santa Croce to hear a Mass on the
completion of a monument which has been erected to Dante; very
crowded and the music indifferent. Afterwards to the Gallery and
saw all the cabinets, but we were hurried through them too
rapidly. I began to like the 'Venus' better, best of all the
statues. The 'Niobe'[12] cannot have been a group, nor the
children have belonged to the mother. Rode to Normanby's villa at
Sesto, five miles from Florence; a large and agreeable house,
gardens full of fountains, statues, busts, orange and lemon
trees, shrubs and flowers. He pays 600 dollars a year for it,
exclusive of the race-ground. In the evening to Burghersh's
opera, which was very well performed; pretty theatre, crowded to
suffocation. All the actors amateurs;[13] chorus composed of
divers ladies and gentlemen of Florence, principally English.
Here all the society of Florence was assembled in nearly equal
proportions of Italians, English, and other foreigners. Nothing
can be worse than it is, for there is no foundation of natives,
and the rest are generally the refuse of Europe, people who come
here from want of money or want of character. Everybody is
received without reference to their conduct, past or present,
with the exception, perhaps, of Englishwomen who have been
divorced, whose case is too notorious to allow the English
Minister's wife to present them at Court.

     [12] The 'Niobe' is supposed to have been a group upon some
          temple
               [Illustration: Schematic of Temple Arch]
          so, of which the mother was the centre figure; this
          makes it more probable, but the difficulty to this
          hypothesis is, that there do not appear to be the
          necessary gradations in the size or altitude of the
          other figures; the sons in the 'Laocoon' are certainly
          little men.

     [13] Phaedra     Miss Williams        Soprano.
          Hippolytus  Madame Vigano        Contralto.
          The Girl    Madame de Bombelles  Soprano.
          Theseus     Goretti              Tenor.
          Attendant   Franceschini         Bass.


March 26th, 1830 {p.302}

Yesterday morning to a Mass at the Annunziata, to which the Grand
Duke came in state, with his family and Court. The piazza was
lined with guards; seven coaches-and-six with his _guardia
nobile_ and running footmen; the Mass beautifully performed by
his band, Tacchinardi (father of Madame Persiani, I believe)
singing and Manielli directing. Then rode to Lord Cochrane's
villa, where we found them under a matted tent in the garden,
going to dinner. He talks of going to Algiers to see the French
attack it. He has made £100,000 by the Greek bonds. It is a pity
he ever got into a scrape; he is such a fine fellow, and so
shrewd and good-humoured. To the Certosa, on a hill two miles
from Florence; very large convent, formerly very rich, and had
near forty monks, now reduced to seven residents, though there
are a few more who belong to it, but who are absent. It is in
good repair, but looks desolate. There is an old monk, Don
Fortunatus by name, who understands English and speaks it
tolerably, delights in English people and books, received us in
his cell, which consists of two or three little apartments, not
uncomfortable and commanding a beautiful view; talked with great
pleasure of his English acquaintance, and showed all their cards,
which he treasured up. A very lively, good-humoured old friar.
Returned to ride in the Corso, which is a narrow street going
from the Duomo to the Annunziata, to drive up and down which is
one of the ceremonies of the day (Lady Day), as the people are
supposed to go and pay their respects to the Virgin. In the
evening to the Opera and heard David again.


[Page Head: ROME]

Rome, March 29th, 1830 {p.303}

Set off yesterday morning at half-past seven from Florence, and
arrived here at six this evening in a fine glowing sunset,
straining my eyes to catch interesting objects, and trying in
vain to make out the different hills. The last two days at
Florence I went to the Gallery and Pitti Palace again with the
Copleys. Half the rooms were shut up when I was at the Pitti
before, but we now saw them all, and probably the finest
collection of pictures in the world. The Raphaels, Rubens, Andrea
del Sartos, and Salvators I liked the best. On Saturday evening
went to Court and was presented to the Grand Duke, who is
vulgar-looking and has bad manners; but the whole thing is rather
handsome. Stopped at Siena to see the cathedral; very fine,
the ancient fount beautiful. The mutilated Graces I am not
connoisseur enough to appreciate, but the illuminated Missals of
the thirteenth century I thought admirable, both for the
colouring and the drawing, and as exquisitely finished as any
miniature. The entrance to Rome through the Porta del Popolo
appeared very fine, but I was disappointed in the first distant
view of the city from the hill above Viterbo. I passed Radicofani
in the dark, and saw little to admire in the Lake of Bolsena or
the surrounding country. The women throughout Italy appeared very
handsome, one quite beautiful at Siena.


March 30th, 1830 {p.303}

This morning I awoke very early, and could not rest till I had
seen St. Peter's; so set off in a hackney coach, drove by the
Piazza della Colonna and the Castle of St. Angelo (which burst
upon me unexpectedly as I turned on the bridge), and got out
as soon as St. Peter's was in sight. My first feeling was
disappointment, but as I advanced towards the obelisk, with the
fountains on each side, and found myself in that ocean of space
with all the grand objects around, delight and admiration
succeeded. As I walked along the piazza and then entered the
church, I felt that sort of breathless bewilderment which was
produced in some degree by the first sight of the Alps. Much as I
expected I was not disappointed. St. Peter's sets criticism at
defiance; nor can I conceive how anybody can do anything but
admire and wonder there, till time and familiarity with its
glories shall have subjected the imagination to the judgment. I
then came home and went with Morier to take a cursory view of the
city and blunt the edge of curiosity. In about five hours I
galloped over the Forum, Coliseum, Pantheon, St. John Lateran,
Santa Maria Maggiore, the Vatican, and several arches and
obelisks. I cannot tell which produced the greatest impression,
St. Peter's or the Coliseum; but if I might only have seen one it
should be the Coliseum, for there can be nothing of the same kind
besides.[14]

     [14] Of the same kind there is, at Pompeii, but not near so
          fine; more perfect as a specimen, far less beautiful as
          an object. And the amphitheatre at Verona, but that is
          very inferior.

[Page Head: SIGHTS OF ROME]

They only who have seen Rome can have an idea of the grandeur of
it and of the wonders it contains, the treasures of art and the
records of antiquity. Of course I had the same general idea of
there being much to see that others have, but was far from being
prepared for the reality, which exceeds my most sanguine
expectations. The Vatican alone would require years to be
examined as it deserves. It is remarkable, however, how the
pleasure of the imagination arising from antiquities depends upon
their accidents. The busts, statues, columns, tombs, and
fragments of all sorts are heaped together in such profusion
at the Vatican that the eyes ache at them, the senses are
bewildered, and we regard them (with some exceptions) almost
exclusively as objects of art, and do not feel the interest
which, separately, they might inspire by their connection with
remote ages, whereas there is scarcely one of those, if it were
now to be discovered, that would not excite the greatest
curiosity, and be, in the midst of the ruins to which it belongs,
an object of far greater interest than a finer production which
had taken its splendid but frigid position in this collection. We
went to the Sistine Chapel, and saw Michael Angelo's frescoes,
which Sir Joshua Reynolds says are the finest paintings in the
world, and which the unlearned call great rude daubs. I do not
pretend to the capacity of appreciating their merits, but was
very much struck with the ease, and grace, and majesty of some of
the figures; it was, however, too dark to see the 'Last
Judgment.' I ended by St. Peter's again, where there were many
devout Catholics praying round the illuminated tomb of the
Apostle, and many foolish English poking into it to stare and ask
questions, the answers to which they did not understand. I have
but one fault to find, and that is with the Glory, a miserable
transparency in the great window opposite the entrance, throwing
a yellow light upon the Dove, which has the most paltry effect,
and is utterly unworthy of the grandeur of such a place.


April 1st, 1830 {p.305}

Yesterday morning at nine o'clock went with Edward Cheney and
George Hamilton to Frascati to dine with Henry Fox, who has got a
villa there. As soon as we arrived Cheney and I walked over to
Grotta Ferrata to see Domenichino's frescoes. The convent is
about a mile and a half off, large, formerly rich, full of monks,
and a fortress; also the scene of various miracles performed by
St. Nilo, the founder and patron saint; now tenanted by a few
beggarly friars, and part of it let to Prince Gagarin, the
Russian Minister, as a villa. Domenichino sought and found an
asylum there in consequence of some crime he had committed or
debt he had incurred; he stayed there two years, and in return
for the hospitality of the monks adorned their chapel with (some
think) the finest frescoes in the world. They are splendid
pictures, and all painted by his own hand.

At dinner we had Hortense, the ex-Queen of Holland, her son,
Prince Louis Napoleon, her lady in waiting, Lady Sandwich and her
daughter, Cheney, Hamilton, Lord Lovaine, and Fordwich. We
dined in the garden, but there was too much wind for a _fête
champêtre_. Hortense is not near so ugly as I expected, very
unaffected and gay, and gives herself no royal airs. The only
difference between her and anybody else was that, after dinner,
when she rose from table, her own servant presented her with a
finger-glass and water, which nobody else had. She is called
Madame.

We returned by moonlight, and though I did not go into the
Coliseum, because the moon was not full enough, it looked fine,
and the light shining through the lower arches had a beautiful
effect. This morning went a long round of sights--Caesar's
Palace, of which there are no remains but fragments of walls; it
really does 'grovel on earth in indistinct decay.' Caracalla's
Baths, which are stupendous; the _custode_ showed us a room in
which were heaped up bits of marble of all sorts and sizes,
fragments of columns and friezes; and he told us that they never
excavated without finding something. And Titus's Baths, less
magnificent but equally curious, because they contain the remains
of the Golden House of Nero, on which Titus built his Thermae.
The ruins are, in fact, part of the Golden House, for the Thermae
have been altogether destroyed. Then to the Capitol, Forum,
Temple of Vesta, Fortuna Virilis, and other places with Morier.
The Capitol contains an interesting collection of busts and
statues of all the Emperors, most famous characters of ancient
Rome and Greece together, with various magnificent objects of
art. By dint of repeatedly seeing their effigies, one becomes
acquainted with the faces of these worthies. These tastes grow
upon one strangely at Rome, and there is a sort of elevation
arising from this silent intercourse with the 'great of old.'

        Proud names, who once the reins of empire held,
        In arms who triumphed, or in arts excell'd,
        Chiefs graced with scars, and prodigal of blood,
        Stern patriots who for sacred freedom stood,
        Just men by whom impartial laws were given,
        And saints who taught, and led the way to heaven.
                                                    TICKELL.

There has been a wrangle about the Borghese Gardens which the
Prince ordered to be shut up; the Government remonstrated, and a
correspondence ensued which ended in their being reopened to the
public, whom he has no right to exclude. Paul V. gave the
Borghese Gardens to his nephew (Aldobrandini) with a condition
that they should always be open to the public, which they have
been from then till now. They were a part of the Cenci property,
which was immense, and confiscated by an enormous piece of
injustice.


[Page Head: SIGHTS OF ROME]

April 3rd, 1830 {p.307}

Went on Thursday to Lady Mary Deerhurst's and the Duchess
Torlonia's, where all the English in Rome (or rather all the most
vulgar) were assembled. Yesterday morning to the Colonna Palace,
Museum of the Capitol, Baths of Diocletian, now Church of Santa
Maria degli Angeli, which are very remarkable because built on
the baths, of which it has preserved the form; San Pietro in
Vincoli, San Bernardo, all built on the site and amidst the ruins
of Titus's and Vespasian's Baths; in various parts the old
pavement is preserved, which shows how magnificent they must have
been, for it is all of giallo, verd antique, porphyry, &c. To the
garden of the Maronite Convent to see the Coliseum, whence there
is the finest view of it in Rome. Then to the Coliseum, and
walked all over the ruins while a parcel of friars with covered
faces were chanting and praying at each of the altars in
succession round the circle below (called the Via Crucis).

I called yesterday morning on M. de la Ferronays, the French
Ambassador, who was very civil and obliging. Dined in the evening
with Lord Haddington, Lovaine, Morier, Prince Gagarin the Russian
Minister, Cheney, and M. Dedel. After dinner George Hamilton came
in and said that Lady Northampton had died suddenly at five
o'clock. I never saw her, but they say she was a very good sort
of woman, and remarkably clever, which good sort of women seldom
are. She had written a poem full of genius and imagination. Lord
Northampton was absent at a _scavo_ he has forty miles off.

There has been no rain here for two months, and the clouds of
dust are insupportable; as it is the town in Europe best supplied
with water (there are three aqueducts; the ancients had sixteen)
so it is the worst watered. The excavations which are going on
(though languidly) are always producing something. Two busts,
said to be fine, were found the day before yesterday at the
Borghese Villa at Frascati.

I saw yesterday at San Pietro in Vincoli Michael Angelo's famous
Moses. It may be very fine, but to my eye is merely a colossal
statue; the two horns are meant to represent rays of light; but
how can rays of light be represented in marble, any more than the
breath? It is impossible to make marble imitate that which is
impalpable. The beard is ropy and unnatural; it is, however, an
imposing sort of figure. But I am more sensible to painting than
to sculpture. I delight in almost everything of Domenichino's,
who is only inferior (if inferior) to Raphael. As to Michael
Angelo, he speaks a language the unlearned do not understand; his
merit, acknowledged to be transcendent as it is by all artists,
cannot be questioned; but he must serve as a model to form future
excellence, and not be expected to produce present delight,
except to those who, by long study, have learnt to comprehend and
appreciate him.

_Evening._--This morning to the tomb of the Scipios, Catacombs,
Cecilia Metella (from which I wonder they don't take the
battlements), the Circus of Maxentius, Temple of Bacchus, the
Fountain of Egeria, San Stefano Rotondo, Temple of Pallas, Arches
of Drusus and Dollabella, and the Borghese Villa and Gardens. The
ruins of the Gaetani Castle are rather picturesque, but they
spoil the tomb, which would be far finer without its turrets. The
Circus is as curious as anything I have seen, for it looks like a
fresh ruin. Old Torlonia furbished it up at his own expense,
and brought to light the inscription which proved it to be
Maxentius's instead of Caracalla's Circus. The remains are so
perfect that it is easy to trace the whole arrangement of the
ancient games. Forsyth says very truly that the Fountain of
Egeria is a mere trough; but everybody praises the water, which
is delicious, and it falls with a murmur which invites to
idleness and contemplation. This fountain has been beautifully
sung, but it is a miserable ruin, ill deserving of such strains.

          In vallum Egeriae descendimus et speluncas
          Dissimiles veris--quanto praestantius esset
          Numen aquae, viridi si margine clauderet undas
          Herba, nec ingenuum violarent marmora tophum.
                                                     JUVENAL.

A little wood of firs, and pines, and ilexes about thirty or
forty years old is pointed out as the grove in which Numa used to
meet the nymph. In all the views on one side Soracte is a
striking object, as it

                                  From out the plain
           Heaves like a long-swept wave about to break
           And on the curl hangs pausing.

I like this side of Rome, where the aqueducts stride over the
Campagna, and the ruins of the mighty Claudian tower over the
pigmy arches of the Pope, like the genius of ancient over that of
modern Rome. The Borghese is the _beau idéal_ of a villa; lofty,
spacious apartments, adorned with statues, busts, and marbles,
painting and gilding, and magnificent gardens; but deserted by
its owner, who has only been there once in the last thirty years,
and untenable in the summer from malaria, which is very
unaccountable, for it is close to Rome, high, and full of trees;
but nobody knows anything about the malaria. The Gardens are the
fashionable lounge, but after June nobody can walk there. Though
the Prince never comes here he has just bought a large piece of
ground between the Porta del Popolo and the Gardens, and is
making a handsome entrance, has already built gates and some ugly
Egyptian imitations, and is making a waterfall. I dined with Lady
William Russell, and set off to go to Queen Hortense in the
evening, but found so few carriages in the court that we would
not go in.


[Page Head: THE SISTINE CHAPEL]

April 4th, 1830 {p.309}

To the Sistine Chapel for the ceremonies of Palm Sunday; we got
into the body of the chapel, not without difficulty; but we saw
M. de la Ferronays in his box, and he let us in (Morier and me).
It was only on a third attempt I could get there, for twice the
Papal halberdiers thrust me back, and I find since it is lucky
they did not do worse; for upon some occasion one of them knocked
a cardinal's eye out, and when he found who he was, begged his
pardon, and said he had taken him for a bishop. Here I had a fine
opportunity of seeing the frescoes, but they are covered
with dirt, the 'Last Judgment' neither distinguishable nor
intelligible to me. The figures on the ceiling and walls are very
grand even to my ignorance. The music (all vocal) beautiful, the
service harmoniously chanted, and the responsive bursts of the
chorus sublime. The cardinals appeared a wretched set of old
twaddlers, all but about three in extreme decrepitude--
Odescalchi, who is young and a good preacher, Gregorio, Capellari
[afterwards Pope Gregory XVI.]. On seeing them, and knowing that
the sovereign is elected by and from them, nobody can wonder that
the country is so miserably governed. These old creatures, on the
demise of a Pope, are as full of ambition and intrigue as in the
high and palmy days of the Papal power. Rome and its territory
are certainly worth possessing, though the Pontifical authority
is so shorn of its beams; but the fact is that the man who is
elected does not always govern the country,[15] and he is
condemned to a life of privation and seclusion. An able or
influential cardinal is seldom elected. The parties in the
Conclave usually end by a compromise, and agree to elect some
cardinal without weight or influence, and there are not now any
Sixtus the Fifths to make such an arrangement hazardous. Austria,
Spain, and France have all vetos, and Portugal claims and
exercises one when she can. To this degradation Rome is now
obliged to submit. The most influential of the cardinals is
Albani.[16] At the last election the Papal crown was offered to
Cardinal Caprara, but Albani stipulated that he should make him
Secretary of State; Caprara refused to promise, and Albani
procured the election of the present Pope (who did not desire or
expect the elevation), became Secretary of State (being eighty),
and governs the country. He is rich and stingy. The great Powers
still watch the proceedings of the Conclave with jealousy; and
though it is difficult to conceive how the Pope can assist any
one of them to the detriment of another, an Ambassador will put
his veto upon any cardinal whom he thinks unfavourable to his
nation; this produces all sorts of trickery, for when the
Conclave want to elect a man who is obnoxious to Austria, for
example, they choose another whom they think is equally so (but
whom they do not really wish to elect), that the veto may be
expended upon him, for each Government has one veto only. The
last veto absolutely put was on Cardinal ----, who was elected on
the death of Pius VII. He had behaved very rudely to the Empress
Maria Louisa when she took refuge in the north of Italy after the
downfall of Napoleon, thinking it was a good moment to bully the
abdicated Emperor's wife. She complained to her father, who
promised her the Cardinal never should be Pope. He was a young
and ambitious man, and the veto killed him with vexation and
disappointment.

     [15] This, from what I have heard since, was not true of the
          last Pope, Leo XII., who was an odious, tyrannical
          bigot, but a man of activity, talent, and strength of
          mind, a good man of business, and his own Minister. He
          was detested here, and there are many stories of his
          violent exertions of authority. He was a sort of
          bastard Sixtus V., but at an immense distance from that
          great man, 'following him of old, with steps unequal.'
          He used, however, to interfere with the private
          transactions of society, and banish and imprison
          people, even of high rank, for immorality.

     [16] Albani holds the Austrian veto, and is supported by her
          authority. But I have heard that since Clement XI., who
          was an Albani, there has always been a powerful Albani
          faction in the Conclave. This cardinal is enormously
          rich and the head of his house. The Duke of Modena is
          his nephew, and it is generally thought will be his
          heir.

Went and walked about St. Peter's, and was surprised to find how
very little longer it is than St. Paul's. To the Farnese Palace,
built by Paul III. out of the ruins of the Coliseum, which now,
with all the Farnese property, belongs to the King of Naples, and
is consequently going to decay. It got into his hands by the
marriage of a King of Naples with the last heiress of the house
of Farnese. The Neapolitan property here consists of the Farnese
and Farnesina Palaces, the Orti Farnesiani, and the Villa Madama,
all in a wretched state; and the Orti, in which there are
probably great remains, they will not allow to be excavated. Many
of the fine things are gone to Naples, but a few remain, most of
which came out of the Thermae of Caracalla, and originally from
the Villa of Adrian. These two, principally the one through the
other, have been the great mines from which the existing
treasures of art were drawn. The frescoes in this palace are
beautiful--a gallery by Annibal and Agostino Caracci, with a few
pictures by Domenichino, Guido, and Lanfranco. Annibal Caracci's
are as fine as any I have seen; also a little cabinet picture
painted entirely by Annibal, which is exquisite.

[Page Head: A DEAD CARDINAL]

As we were going to this palace we drove by the Cancellaria
(which was likewise built out of the Coliseum), and heard by
accident that a dead cardinal (Somaglia) was lying in state
there. Somaglia was Secretary of State in Leo's time. Having seen
all the living cardinals, we thought we might as well complete
our view of the Sacred College with the dead one, and went up.
After a great deal of knocking we were admitted to a private view
half an hour before the public was let in. He had been embalmed,
and lay on a bed under a canopy on an inclined plane, full
dressed in cardinal's robes, new shoes on, his face and hands
uncovered, the former looking very fresh (I believe he was
rouged), his fingers black, but on one of them was an emerald
ring, candles burning before the bed, and the window curtains
drawn. He was 87 years old, but did not look so much, and had a
healthier appearance in death than half the old walking mummies
we had seen with palms in their hands in the morning.

Took a look at Pasquin, who had nothing but advertisements pasted
upon him. I had seen Marphorius in the Capitol; there has long
been an end to the witty dialogues of the days of Sixtus V., so
quaintly told by Leti; they are so little 'birds of a feather'
(for Pasquin is a mutilated fragment, Marphorius a colossal
statue of the ocean) that, residing as they did at different
parts of the town, it is difficult to understand how they ever
came to converse with each other at all. I remember one of the
best of his stories. Sixtus V. made his sister a princess, and
she had been a washerwoman. The next day Pasquin appeared with a
dirty shirt on. Marphorius asks him 'why he wears such foul
linen;' and he answers 'that his washerwoman has been made a
princess, and he can't get it washed.'

To the Farnesina: Raphael's frescoes, the famous Galatea, and the
great head which Michael Angelo painted on the wall, as it is
said as a hint to Raphael that he was too minute. There it is
just as he left it. Here Raphael painted the Transfiguration, and
here the Fornarina was shut up with him that he might not run
away from his work. It might be thought that to shut up his
mistress with him was not the way to keep him to his work. Be
that as it may, the plan was a good one which produced these
frescoes and the Transfiguration.

[Page Head: POMPEY'S STATUE]

I very nearly forgot to mention the Palazzo Spada, where we went
to see the famous statue of Pompey, which was found on the spot
where the Senate House formerly stood, and which is (as certainly
as these things can be certain) the identical statue at the foot
of which Caesar fell.

               Muffling his face within his robe
        Ev'n at the base of Pompey's statue,
        Which all the while ran blood, great Caesar fell.

People doubt this statue, because it is not like his busts. There
is certainly no resemblance to the bust I have seen, which
represents Pompey as a fat, vulgar-looking man with a great
double chin. It is impossible for the coldest imagination to look
at this statue without interest, for it calls up a host of
recollections and associations, standing before you unchanged
from the hour when Caesar folded his robe round him and
'consented to death' at its base. Those who cannot feel this had
better not come to Rome. Cardinal Spada was Secretary of State
when this statue was found, and Julius III. (Giocchi del Monti,
1550) made him a present of it.

The Temple of Bacchus is one of the most remarkable objects in
Rome; it is not in the least altered, merely turned into a
Christian church, and some saints, &c., painted on the walls. The
mosaic ceiling and the pavement are just the same as when it was
devoted to the worship of the jolly god. The mosaics are
beautiful, and perfect models of that sort of ceiling. The
pavement is covered with names and other scribblings cut out upon
it, all ancient Roman. Not a column has been removed or
mutilated. The fact is, Rome possesses several complete specimens
of places of heathen worship; this temple, the Pantheon, and San
Stefano Rotondo are perfect in the inside, the Pantheon within
and without, Vesta and Fortuna Virilis perfect on the outside.

[Page Head: A CAPUCHIN CHARNEL-HOUSE]

In the Rospigliosi Palace is the famous Aurora of Guido. It is in
excellent preservation, and three artists were copying it in
oils. One copy was just finished, and admirably done, for which
the painter asked forty louis. I begin to like frescoes better
than oils; there is such a life and brilliancy about them. At the
Quirinal, which was fitted up for the King of Rome and inhabited
by the Emperor of Austria, we saw everything but the Pope's
apartments. It is a delightful house, and commands a charming
view of Rome. The Pope always goes there the last day of the Holy
Week, and stays there all the summer. Nothing can be more
melancholy than his life as described by the _custode_; he gets
up very early, lives entirely alone and with the greatest
simplicity. In short, it shows what a strange thing ambition is,
which will sacrifice the substantial pleasures of life for the
miserable shadow of grandeur. Coming home we stopped by accident
at the Capuchins, and looked in to see Guido's St. Michael, with
which I was disappointed till I looked at it from a distance. We
then went to their catacombs, the most curious place I ever saw.
There are a series of chapels in the cloisters, or rather
compartments of one chapel, entirely fitted up with human bones
arranged symmetrically and with all sorts of devices. They are
laid out in niches, and each niche is occupied by the skeleton of
a friar in the robes of his order; a label is attached to it with
the name of the skeleton and the date of his death. Beneath are
mounds of earth, each tenanted by a dead friar with similar
labels. When a friar dies, the oldest buried friar, or rather his
skeleton, is taken up and promoted to a niche, and the newly
defunct takes possession of his grave; and so they go on in
succession. I was so struck by this strange sight that, when I
came home at night, I ventured on the following description of
it:--

      _THE CATACOMBS IN THE CAPUCHIN CONVENT._

      In yonder chapel's melancholy shade,
        Through which no wandering rays of daylight peep,
      In strange and awful cemetery laid,
        The ancient Fathers of the convent sleep.

      No storied marble with monastic pride
        Records the actions of their tranquil life,
      Or tells how, fighting for their faith, they died
        Unconquer'd martyrs of religious strife.

      They are not laid in decent shroud and pall,
        To wait, commingling with their kindred earth,
      Th' Archangel's trumpet, whose dread blast shall call
        The whole creation to a second birth.

      But midst the mouldering relics of the dead
        In shapes fantastic, which the brethren rear,
      Profaned by heretic's unhallowed tread,
        The monkish skeletons erect appear.

      The cowl is drawn each ghastly skull around,
        Each fleshless form's arrayed in sable vest,
      About their hollow loins the cord is bound,
        Like living Fathers of the Order drest.

      And as the monk around this scene of gloom
        The flick'ring lustre of his taper throws,
      He says, 'Such, stranger, is my destined tomb;
        Here, and with these, shall be my last repose.'

At night I went with a party of English to see the Coliseum, but
the moon was as English as the party, and gave a faint and feeble
light. Still, with this dim moon it was inconceivably grand. The
exquisite symmetry of the building appears better, and its vast
dimensions are more developed by night. I long to see it with an
Italian sky and full moon; but not with a parcel of chattering
girls, who only 'flout the ruins grey.'


[Page Head: THE HOLY WEEK AT ROME]

April 9th, 1830 {p.315}

On Wednesday called on Bunsen, the Prussian Minister, who lives
at the top of the Tarpeian Rock, in a house commanding one of the
best views of Rome. He has devoted himself to the study of Roman
history and antiquities, and has the whole subject at his
fingers' ends. He is really luminous, and his conversation
equally amusing and instructive. He is about to publish a book
about ancient and modern Rome, which, from what I hear, will be
too minute and prolix. I then went to look at the Tarpeian Rock,
but the accumulation of earth has diminished its height--there is
the Rock, but in a very obscure hole. It was probably twice as
high as it is now. I think it is now about forty feet. Bunsen
says that though the antiquaries pretend to point out the course
of the ancient triumphal way, he does not think it can ever be
ascertained. The only remains (only bits of foundations) of the
temple of the Capitoline Jupiter, to which the conquerors
ascended, are in the garden under his windows. He thinks the
population of ancient Rome may be taken at two millions at its
most flourishing period. It is curious that there are hardly any
houses on the hills on which ancient Rome was built, and that
there were none formerly where modern Rome stands--no private
houses, only public buildings and temples.

To the Mamertine Prisons, probably not a stone of which has been
changed from the time that Jugurtha was starved in them. The
tradition about St. Peter and the well of course is not to be
believed; but it is very odd there should be a well there when
there are so few in Rome. To the Sistine Chapel with M. de la
Ferronays, and very much disappointed with the music, which was
not so good as on Sunday; nor was the ceremony accompanying the
Miserere at all imposing. Yesterday morning to the Sistine again;
prodigious crowd, music moderate. As soon as it was over we set
off to see the benediction; and, after fighting, jostling, and
squeezing through an enormous crowd, we reached the _loggia_ over
one side of the colonnade. The Piazza of St. Peter's is so
magnificent that the sight was of necessity fine, but not near so
much so as I had fancied. The people below were not numerous or
full of reverence. Till the Pope appears the bands play and the
bells ring, when suddenly there is a profound silence; the
feathers are seen waving in the balcony, and he is borne in on
his throne; he rises, stretches out his hands, blesses the
people--URBI ET ORBI--and is borne out again. A couple of
indulgences were tossed out, for which there is a scramble, and
so it ends. Off we scampered, and, by dint of tremendous
exertions, reached the hall in which the feet of the pilgrims are
washed. The Pope could not attend, so the Cardinal Deacon
officiated. No ceremony can be less imposing, but none more
clean. Thirteen men are ranged on a bench--the thirteenth
represents the angel who once joined the party--dressed in new
white caps, gowns, and shoes; each holds out his foot in
succession; an attendant pours a few drops of water on it from a
golden jug which another receives in a golden basin; the cardinal
wipes it with a towel, kisses the foot, and then gives the towel,
a nosegay, and a piece of money to the pilgrim--the whole thing
takes up about five minutes--certain prayers are said, and it is
over. Then off we scampered again through the long galleries of
the Vatican to another hall where the pilgrims dine. The
arrangements for the accommodation of the Ambassadors and
strangers were so bad that all these passages were successive
scenes of uproar, scrambling, screaming, confusion, and danger,
and, considering that the ceremonies were all religious, really
disgraceful. We got with infinite difficulty to another box,
raised aloft in the hall, and saw a long table at which the
thirteen pilgrims seated themselves; a cardinal in the corner
read some prayers, which nobody listened to, and another handed
the dishes to the pilgrims, who looked neither to the right nor
the left, but applied themselves with becoming gravity to the
enjoyment of a very substantial dinner. The whole hall was filled
with people, all with their hats on, chattering and jostling, and
more like a ring of blacklegs and blackguards at Tattersall's
than respectable company at a religious ceremony in the palace of
the Pope. There remained the cardinals' dinner, but I had had
more than enough, and came away hot, jaded, and disgusted with
the whole affair.

[Page Head: THE GRAND PENITENTIARY]

In the evening I went to St. Peter's, when I was amply
recompensed for the disappointment and bore of the morning. The
church was crowded; there was a Miserere in the chapel, which was
divine, far more beautiful than anything I have heard in the
Sistine, and it was the more effective because at the close it
really was night. The lamps were extinguished at the shrine of
the Apostle, but one altar--the altar of the Holy Sepulchre--was
brilliantly illuminated. Presently the Grand Penitentiary,
Cardinal Gregorio, with his train entered, went and paid his
devotions at this shrine, and then seated himself on the chair of
the Great Confessional, took a golden wand, and touched all those
who knelt before him. Then came a procession of pilgrims bearing
muffled crosses; penitents with faces covered, in white, with
tapers and crosses; and one long procession of men headed by
these muffled figures, and another of women accompanied by
ladies, a lady walking between every two pilgrims. The cross in
the procession of women was carried by the Princess Orsini, one
of the greatest ladies in Rome. They attended them to the church
(the Trinità delle Pellegrine) and washed their feet and fed
them. A real washing of dirty feet. Both the men and the women
seemed of the lowest class, but their appearance and dresses were
very picturesque. These processions entered St. Peter's, walked
all round the church, knelt at the altars, and retired in the
same order, filing along the piazza till they were lost behind
the arches of the colonnades. As the shades of night fell upon
the vast expanse of this wonderful building it became really
sublime; 'the dim religious light' glimmering from a distant
altar, or cast by the passing torches of the procession, the
voices of the choir as they sang the Miserere swelling from the
chapel, which was veiled in dusk, and with no light but that of
the high taper half hid behind the altar, with the crowds of
figures assembled round the chapel moving about in the obscurity
of the aisles and columns, produced the most striking effect I
ever beheld. It was curious, interesting, and inspiring--little
of mummery and much of solemnity. The night here brings out fresh
beauties, but of the most majestic character. There is a colour
in an Italian twilight that I have never seen in England, so
soft, and beautiful, and grey, and the moon rises 'not as in
northern climes obscurely bright,' but with far-spreading rays
around her. The figures, costume, and attitudes that you see in
the churches are wonderfully picturesque. I went afterwards to
the Jesù, where there was a tiresome service (the Tre Ore), and
heard a Jesuit preaching with much passion and emphasis, but
could not understand a word he said. So then I called on Cheney
and saw his mother's illustrations of Milton, which are
admirable, full of genius.

_At night._--To St. Peter's, where the Miserere was not so good
as last night. It was reported that the Pope was coming to St.
Peter's, and the Swiss Guards lined the nave, but he did not
arrive. Formerly, when the Cross was illuminated, he used to come
with all the cardinals to adore it. Now the cardinals (or rather
some of them) came and adored the Cross and the relics belonging
to the church, which were exhibited in succession from one of the
balconies--a bit of the true Cross, Santa Veronica's bloody
handkerchief, and others. There were, as the night before,
several fraternities of penitents, some in black, others in white
or brown, all disguised by long hoods, but there was to-night one
of the most striking and remarkable exhibitions I ever beheld.

The Grand Penitentiary, Cardinal Gregorio, again took his seat in
the chair of the Great Confessional. All those who have been
absolved after confession by their priest, and who present
themselves before him, are touched with his golden wand, in token
of confirmation of the absolution, and here again that quality
which I have so often remarked as one of the peculiar characteristics
of the Catholic religion is very striking. Men and women, beggars
and princesses, present themselves indiscriminately; they all
kneel in a row, and he touches them in succession. In the
churches there seem to be no distinctions of rank; no one,
however great or rich, is contaminated by the approximation of
poverty and rags. But to return to the Confessional. There are
some crimes of such enormity that absolution for them can only be
granted by the Pope himself, who delegates his power to the Grand
Penitentiary, and he receives such confessions in the chair in
which he was seated to-day. They are, however, very rare; but
this evening, after he had finished touching the people, a man,
dressed like a peasant in a loose brown frock, worsted stockings,
and brogues, apparently of the lowest order, dark, ill-looking,
and squalid, approached the Confessional to reveal some great
crime. The confession was very long, so was the admonition of the
Cardinal which followed it. The appearance of the Cardinal is
particularly dignified and noble, and, as he bent down his head,
joining it to that of this ruffian-like figure, listening with
extreme patience and attention, and occasionally speaking to him
with excessive earnestness, while the whole surrounding multitude
stood silently gazing at the scene, all conscious that some great
criminal was before them, but none knowing the nature of the
crime, it was impossible not to be deeply interested and
impressed with such a spectacle. Nothing could exceed the
patience of the Cardinal and the intensity with which he seemed
absorbed in the tale of the penitent. When it was over he wiped
his face, as if he had been agitated by what he heard. It was
impossible not to feel that be the balance for or against
confession (which is a difficult question to decide, though I am
inclined to think the balance is against) it is productive of
some good effects, and, though susceptible of enormous abuses, is
a powerful instrument of good when properly used. I have no doubt
it is largely abused, but it is the most powerful weapon of the
Romish Church, the one, I believe, by which it principally lives,
moves, and has its being. That penitence must be real, and of a
nature to be worked upon, which can induce a man to come forward
in the face of multitudes and exhibit himself as the perpetrator
of some atrocious though unknown crime.

[Page Head: PILGRIMS AT SUPPER]

At night I went to the Trinità dei Pellegrini to see the pilgrims
at supper. The washing of the feet was over; a cardinal performs
it with the men, and ladies with the women, but it is no mere
ceremony as at the Vatican; they really do wash and scrub the
dirty feet perhaps of about a dozen of them each night. I saw the
room in which they were just clearing away the apparatus and
collecting piles of dirty towels. The pilgrims sit on benches;
under their feet are a number of small wooden tubs, with cocks to
turn the water into them, and there they are washed. Afterwards
they go to supper, and then to bed. The men sup in a very long
hall--most curious figures, and natives of half the world. The
Cardinal Camerlengo[17] says grace and cuts the meat. They are
waited upon by gentlemen and priests, and have a very substantial
meal. The women are treated in the same way.[18] No men are
admitted to their hall, but we contrived to get to the door and
saw it all. The Princess Orsini and a number of Roman ladies were
there (who had been washing feet) with aprons on, waiting upon
them at supper. Their dormitories were spacious, clean, and
sweet, though the beds were crowded together. The pilgrims are
kept there from Palm Sunday to Easter Sunday, when they are
dismissed. Their numbers are generally about 250 or 300. The
funds of the establishment are supplied by private subscriptions,
legacies, and donations, the names of the benefactors, with the
amount of their contributions, being recorded on boards hung up
in the hall. There were a great many spectators, but the whole
ceremony was ordered with regularity and decency, which is more
than can be said for those of the Vatican. I walked to-night to
St. Peter's, to look at it by moonlight. From every point of view
it is magnificent; the stillness of the night is broken only by
the waters of the fountains, which glitter in the moonbeams like
sheets of molten silver. The obelisk, the façade, the cupola, and
the columns all contribute to the grandeur and harmony of the
scene: but everything at Rome should be seen at night. The Castle
of St. Angelo, the Tiber, and the Bridge are all wonderfully fine
in these bright nights.

     [17] Minister of the Interior and Chamberlain; but Gonsalvi
          deprived the Camerlengo of his Ministerial functions,
          and joined them to the Secretaryship of State, and so
          it has since remained.

     [18] I met Lady ----, a very tiresome woman, a day or two
          after, who had been to see this ceremony, and was most
          devoutly edified by the humility and charity of the
          ladies. She told me a very old woman put out her foot
          to her, thinking she was one of them, and begged her to
          be very careful, as she had got some sores produced by
          the itch; but as it formed no part of her Protestant
          duty, she turned her over to the Princess Orsini, who
          handled this horrid old leg with great tenderness; and
          afterwards, when the same Princess was handed into the
          other apartment to see the male pilgrims at supper, by
          an attendant in the livery which they all wore, this
          attendant turned out to be Prince Corsini. It sounds
          very fine, but after all I don't think there is much in
          it. It is ostentatious charity and humility, and though
          rather disgusting and disagreeable, it is the fashion,
          and those who do it are set up in a capital stock of
          piety and virtue. It _may be_ both cause and effect of
          great moral excellence, but I think it questionable.


[Page Head: PROTESTANT BURIAL GROUND]

April 10th, 1830 {p.322}

In the morning to St. John Lateran, where, as my _laquais de
place_ said, 'converted Jews, or Turks, or _Lutherans_' were
baptised; got too late for the baptism, which I believe is a
farce regularly got up, but heard the High Mass. The churches
were crowded all this week with pilgrims, whose appearance is
always very picturesque. Went into the cloisters, and was shown
by the monk or priest (whichever he was) some very remarkable
articles that they possess--a bit of the column on which the cock
stood when he crowed after Peter's three denials; a slab showing
the exact height of Jesus Christ, as he could just stand under
it,[19] and two halves which had once been a whole column, but
which was broken when the veil of the Temple was rent on the
death of Christ. The column is adorned with sculpture, which they
say is Jewish, and was brought to Rome with the Holy Stairs. Then
to Santa Croce in Gerusalemme, where they were performing High
Mass, with many assistants and a full choir, but without a
congregation; there were not six people in the church. To Minerva
Medica, a questionable and uninteresting ruin, and besides
falling to pieces. To the Barberini Palace, where there is little
besides the Cenci, which is worth going any distance to see. To
the Doria, a magnificent palace, with an immense number of
pictures, and some very fine ones, which I was hurried through.
To the Pyramid of Caius Cestius, which is in the middle of the
wall of Aurelian, and forms the back of a very pretty Protestant
burial ground, the greatest number of those who have been buried
there being of course English. It is on the side of a hill with
high, turreted walls behind it. There are two rows of white
marble tombs, whose diminutive proportions form a contrast with
the enormous sepulchre of the Roman. Round some of the tombstones
rose-trees and other shrubs have been planted, and all but one
adorned with epitaphs and inscriptions in Latin, English, German,
and Italian. That one is the tomb of the pretty Miss Bathurst who
was drowned in the Tiber. Her mother was to have returned to Rome
and supply the epitaph, but she has never come, and it has not
even her name inscribed upon it. I copied the following, which
are apparently intended for Latin verses, from one of the tombs--
of Frederica Ursulina Arabella de Montmorency, by her father,
Colonel Raymond Henry de Montmorency, whose feelings set quantity
at defiance:--

        Frederica quae Claris fueram praelata puellis
          Illa ego hoc brevi condita sum tumulo;
        Cui formam pulcherrimam, charites tribuere decoram
          Quam Deus cunctis artibus erudiit.

     [19] He must have been just six feet high.

Clambered up Monte Testaccio, from which the view is beautiful,
and then went on to the ruins of San Paolo fuori le Mure. The
church, which was the finest in Rome except St. Peter's, was
entirely destroyed by fire; but although it is near three miles
from the gates, and not the least wanted, and that there are
hundreds of churches, half of which seldom or never have
congregations to fill them, they are already rebuilding this at
an enormous cost, and the priest told me, to my great disgust,
that they had got all the materials ready, and in ten years they
expected the work to be finished. There are plenty of fools found
to contribute to the expense, the greatest part of which,
however, is supplied by the Government. It is to be built just as
it was before, but they cannot replace the enormous marble
columns which were its principal ornament. To a church to hear
the Armenian Mass. The priests arrived in splendid oriental
dresses, but I did not stay it out. Walked to the Borghese
Gardens, the fine weather being something of which no description
can convey an idea, and in it the beauty of Rome and its gardens
and environs are equally indescribable. Groups of pilgrims in
their odd dresses, with staves, and great bundles on their heads,
were lounging about, or lying under the trees. At night to the
Coliseum (but the moon never will shine properly), and back by
the Forum and the Capitol. The columns in the Forum look
beautiful, but St. Peter's gains at least as much as the ancient
ruins by the light of the moon. The views from different hills,
and sunset from the Pincian in such weather as this, and with
spring bursting in every direction, are things never to be
forgotten.


Sunday. {p.324}

High Mass in St. Peter's, which was crowded. I walked about the
church to see the groups and the extraordinary and picturesque
figures moving through the vast space. They are to the last
degree interesting: in one place hundreds prostrate before an
altar--pilgrims, soldiers, beggars, ladies, gentlemen, old and
young in every variety of attitude, costume, and occupation. The
benediction was much finer than on Thursday, the day magnificent,
the whole piazza filled with a countless multitude, all in their
holiday dresses, and carriages in the back-ground to the very
end. The troops forming a brilliant square in the middle, the
immense population and variety of costume, the weather, and the
glorious locality certainly made as fine a spectacle as can
possibly be seen. The Pope is dressed in white, with the triple
crown on his head; two great fans of feathers, exactly like those
of the Great Mogul, are carried on each side of him. He sits
aloft on his throne, and is slowly borne to the front of the
balcony. The moment he appears there is a dead silence, and every
head is bared. When he rises, the soldiers all fall on their
knees, and some, but only a few, of the spectators. The distance
is so great that he looks like a puppet, and you just see him
move his hands and make some signs. When he gives the blessing--
the sign of the cross--the cannon fires. He blesses the people
twice, remains perhaps five minutes in the balcony, and is
carried out as he came in.

The numbers who come to the benediction are taken as a test of
the popularity of the Pope, though I suppose the weather has a
good deal to do with it. Leo XII. was very unpopular from his
austerity, and particularly his shutting up the wine shops. The
first time he gave the benediction after that measure hardly
anybody came to be blessed.

[Page Head: ILLUMINATION OF ST. PETER'S]

_At night._--The illumination of St. Peter's is as fine as I was
told it was, and that is saying everything. I saw it from the
Pincian, from the windows of the French Academy and Horace
Vernet's room. He is established in the Villa Medici; a very
lively little fellow, and making a great deal of money as
director of the Academy and by his paintings. His daughter is
very pretty. Here I met Savary, the Duc de Rovigo, a tall, stout,
vulgar-looking man. We were introduced and conversed on French
politics. Afterwards drove down to the piazza and round it. The
illumination is more effective at a distance, but I think it
looks best from the entrance to the piazza and the Bridge of St.
Angelo; the blaze of light, the crowd, and the fountains, covered
with a red glare, made altogether the most splendid sight in the
world. (One poor devil was killed, and there is almost always
some accident.) Eight hundred men are employed in illuminating
St. Peter's; the first pale and subdued light, which covers the
whole church, is brought out by the darkness of night, the little
lamps being lit in the day-time. The blazing lights which succeed
are made by large pots of grease with wicks in them; there is one
man to every two lamps. On a given signal, each man touches his
two lamps as quick as possible, so that the whole building bursts
into light at once by a process the effect of which is quite
magical--literally, as the Rejected Addresses say, 'starts into
light, and makes the lighter start.'


April 12th, 1830 {p.325}

At night at Torlonia's to see the girandola, which is as fine as
fireworks can be, but nothing will do after the illumination of
St. Peter's. All the world was there at an assembly after the
ceremony, at which I was introduced to Don Michele Gaetani, said
to be the cleverest man in Rome, and I had a long conversation
with Monsignore Spada, who is a young layman with ecclesiastical
rank and costume, and a judge. A Monsignore holds ecclesiastical
rank at Rome, as a Lady of the Bedchamber at St. Petersburg holds
military rank, where she is a major-general; there is no other.
He is free to marry, and I presume to do anything else, but he
must preserve a certain orthodox gravity of dress and conduct; he
is a curious nondescript, about an equal mixture of the cardinal
and the dandy. This Monsignore is a very clever, agreeable man,
and gave me some information about the administration of law in
this country. There seems to be a good deal of laxity in it, for
a man was condemned for stabbing another (with premeditation) a
little while ago to six months' imprisonment, or more perhaps;
and having been George Hamilton's _laquais de place_, his family
came to him and begged him to try and get him off. He applied to
Spada, and got the punishment commuted to some trifling
imprisonment, and when he got out he came, with all his family,
to kiss Hamilton's hand.


[Page Head: BUNSEN ON THE FORUM]

April 13th, 1830 {p.326}

Breakfasted with Bunsen at the Capitol; Lovaine, Morier,
Haddington, Hamilton, Kestner, Falck, G. Fitzclarence, Sir W. Gell,
a little Italian servant, and Mr. Hall, Bunsen's brother-in-law.
Haddington told the story of Canning's sending to Bagot a despatch
in cipher, containing these lines:--

       In matters of commerce the fault of the Dutch
       Is giving too little and asking too much;
       With equal protection the French are content:
       So we'll lay on Dutch bottoms just twenty per cent.
                 _Chorus of Officers._--We'll lay, &c.
                 _Chorus of Douaniers._--Nous frapperons Falck
                      avec Twenty per cent.

He received the despatch at dinner, and sent it to be deciphered.
After some hours they brought him word they did not know what to
make of it, for it seemed to be in verse, when he at once saw
there was a joke.

Went to see the excavations in the Via Triumphalis and the Temple
of Concord, and heard Bunsen's theory of the Forum. Bunsen gives
different names to the remains of the temples in the Forum from
those which have been usually given, and by which they are known,
and on very plausible grounds, drawn chiefly from accounts in
different Roman authors and peculiarities in the buildings
themselves. The Temple of Fortune he thinks was the Basilica of
Augustus, and the Temple of Jupiter Tonans the Temple of Saturn;
but all his reasons I need not put down if I could remember them,
for are they not written in the voluminous work he is going to
publish in four or six volumes octavo?

Bunsen's history is rather curious. He was a poor German student
destined for the Church; came to Rome, and got employed by
Niebuhr, from whom he first got a taste for antiquities. The King
of Prussia came to Rome and saw him; he was struck with his
knowledge and the character he heard of him, and consulted him
about a new Liturgy he wished to introduce into Prussia. Bunsen
gave him so much satisfaction in that matter, as well as in some
others which were entrusted to him, that on Niebuhr's return to
Prussia he was appointed to succeed him, and has been at Rome
ever since--thirteen years. Some say he is not a profound man,
and that his speculations about the ruins are all wrong. He talks
English, French, and Italian like his own language.

[Page Head: SIGHTS OF ROME]

The part of the triumphal road was discovered by accident in
digging for a drain; and an attempt is being made to procure the
permission of the Government to excavate all that can be found of
it, and ascertain its exact course. It was in the Temple of
Concord that Cicero assembled the Senate and pronounced one of
his orations against Catiline. The building must have been large
and magnificent, from the remains now visible, which are of the
finest marble. The pavement is in a state of considerable
preservation. Then we went to the old Tabularium, standing on the
Intermontium, an undoubted work of the Republic. This was the
place where the records of the Senate were kept. It is very
perfect. Nibby, the great authority here, differs, however, about
this place; the antiquaries are at daggers drawn upon the subject
of the ruins, remains, and discoveries. They have all different
systems, which they support with great vehemence and obstinacy,
and perhaps ingenuity, but the ignorant and curious traveller is
only perplexed with their noisy and discordant assertions. They
will insist upon knowing everything, whereas there are many
things here which are so doubtful, that they can only conjecture
about them; but when once they have published a theory they will
not hear of its being erroneous, and oppose any fresh discovery
likely to throw discredit upon it. After his lecture in the Forum
we went to San Nicolo in Cercera, an old church built on three
old temples, or two and a prison, but not much to see. The prison
of San Nicolo in Cercera is said to be the scene of the story of
the Roman daughter, which it probably is not. Over the Bridge of
Fabricius to the Basilica of Saint Bartholomew and Temple of
Esculapius; small remains, but curious; and very pretty view of
the Tiber and Temple of Vesta. To the Villa Lanti, a delicious
villa belonging to Prince Borghese, who never goes there, and
will neither let nor lend it. One of the finest views of Rome is
from the terrace, and Julio Romano's frescoes adorn the ceilings.
When Raphael was painting the Vatican, he and Julio Romano used
to retire every night to the Villa Lanti, and the ceilings are
covered with frescoes painted by both of them. Just below is a
terrace, and on it a beautiful tree called Tasso's Oak, because
under it he used to sit and compose when he lived in the Convent
of San Onofrio, which is close by, and where he died. This
convent is remarkably clean, airy, and spacious. In the library
is a bust of Tasso, a mask taken from his face just after he
died; in the chapel his tomb.

           And Tasso is their glory--
           Hark to his strain and then survey his cell.
                                                     BYRON.

In the cloister are some frescoes of the universal Domenichino. I
like the Convent of San Onofrio. To Santa Maria in Trastevere, a
very fine church; splendid ceiling with a Domenichino in the
middle. Immense granite columns of various orders taken from God
knows what temples, and mosaic floor rich to a degree. Large
pieces of porphyry and verd antique eternally trodden by the
Trasteverine mob, and never even cleaned. It is a basilica, and
at the end is an ancient stone chair, which, was evidently the
old justice-seat, though they of the Church do not know it.


April 14th, 1830 {p.329}

Set off early to make up an arrear of churches. First to Santa
Maria sopra Minerva, and lit upon the funeral of a cardinal
(Bertazzoli), which I was obliged to see instead of Michael
Angelo's Christ. All the cardinals attended; the church hung with
black and gold; guards, tapers, mob, &c. Then to the SS.
Apostoli, Araceli (built where the Citadel stood, and is a
corruption of Arx, but with a legend); a curious church enough,
with some fine frescoes of Pintoriccio, and the Chapel of the
Virgin with hundreds of ex voto's hang round it, almost all
wretched daubs of pictures, and principally representing
accidents in gigs, carriages, or carts, broken heads or limbs. To
Santa Anastasia, Santa Maria in Cosmedin, Santa Sabina. Santa
Maria in Cosmedin, or the Bocca della Verità, built in and on the
ruins of an old temple (di Pudicizia), is one of the best worth
seeing in Rome; the columns, if freed from the modern church,
would present as perfect a front as the temples in the Forum. To
Monte Aventino to see the view of Rome and the Chapel of the
Order of Malta, where Cardinal Zurla as Grand Prior has a most
agreeable residence. The garden contains immense orange-trees and
a very large palm. To San Gregorio to see the famous rival
frescoes of Guido and Domenichino, which are much impaired. I
began by liking Guido's and ended by liking the other best. The
view of the Palatine from this convent is magnificent. To San
Gregorio and San Paolo, and saw the ruins, which must have
belonged to the Coliseum, for the architecture is exactly
similar, and they have every appearance of having been the
Vivarium from their shape. To the Corsini Palace, containing one
of the best collections of pictures, of which the finest are two
portraits of cardinals by Raphael and Domenichino. The palace is
very fine, and the villa joins it on the opposite hill of the
Janiculum, but both are affected by the malaria. Then to the
Vatican and saw all the frescoes and pictures; the collection of
pictures is very small, but they are all masterpieces. To the
gallery below to see the mosaics and the process of copying the
great pictures. The coloured bits are numbered, and though there
are not above six or seven colours, the sub-divisions of various
shades amount to 18,000. This art is in a great degree mechanical,
but requires ingenuity, attention, and some knowledge of
painting. On the large pictures, such as those which are in
St. Peter's, several men are employed at the same time, but on
the lesser only one. It is very tedious, requiring years to copy
one of the largest size. All the pictures in St. Peter's are in
mosaic, except one, and they are at work on one which is to
replace this single oil-piece. The studio appeared in good order,
but there were only two men at work, as the Government spends
very little money upon it at present. From one of the open
galleries we (Morier and I) saw a thunderstorm, with gusts of
wind, flashes of lightning, and rain. It was amazingly grand from
that place as it swept over the city and made us 'sharers in its
fierce delight.' Then to the Borghese Gardens, and back to one of
those sunsets from the Pincian which will long be remembered
among the smoke and fogs in which I am destined to live.




                           CHAPTER IX.

Lake of Albano--Velletri--Naples--Rapid Travelling in 1830--A
  Trial at Naples--Deciphering Manuscripts--Ball at the Duchesse
  d'Eboli's--Matteis's Plot and Trial--Pompeii--Taking the Veil--
  Pausilippo--Baiae--La Cava--Salerno--Paestum--Lazaroni--Museum
  of Naples--Grotto del Cane--The Camaldoli--Herculaneum--
  Vesuvius--Sorrento--Miracle of St. Januarius--Astroni--Farewell
  to Naples.


[Page Head: ALBANO--NAPLES]

Velletri, April 15th, 1830 {p.331}

Left Rome at nine o'clock this morning; at Albano procured an
ancient rural cicerone, a boy, and two donkeys, and set out on
the grand _giro_ of the place. The road over the Campagna is
agreeable, because the prospect roundabout is so fine, and the
aqueducts stretching over the plain so grand. After climbing up
to the Capuchin Convent, close to which are the remains of what
is called Domitian's Theatre, we came to the lake, which is
beautiful, but does not look large, and still less as if it had
ever threatened Rome with destruction. There is a road called the
Upper Gallery, shaded by magnificent ilexes, which leads to the
Villa Barberini, a delicious garden, once Clodius's and
afterwards part of Domitian's Villa, containing many remains of
former magnificence. This villa was probably the scene of the
council described by Juvenal (Fourth Satire).

                        Misso proceres exire jubentur
            Concilio, quos Albanam Dux magnus in arcem
            Traxerat attonitos.

I could not make out that any excavations have ever been made
here, though they would be certain of finding marbles. The road
passes along the hill which overhangs the margin of the lake to
Castel Gandolfo, and thence a path leads to the bottom, where are
the Emissarium, the Nyphaeum (called the Baths of Diana), and a
beautiful view of the lake, Monte Albano, and its towns. There is
nothing more curious than the Emissarium, built with a solidity
which has defied the effect of time, for it has never required
reparations, and performs its office still as it did more than
2,000 years ago (393 years before the Christian era). Nothing is
so incomprehensible as the magnitude and grandeur of the works of
the Republic before it had acquired power, territory, or
population. The Romans built as if they had an instinctive
prescience of future greatness, and not even the pressure of
immediate danger could induce them to sacrifice solidity to
haste. After wondering at their enterprise and industry we may go
and admire their subsequent luxury in the Baths of Diana, as the
place is called, but which is evidently a natural cave improved
into a delicious retreat by some inhabitant of one of the villas
above. We mounted the hill and went by another road (called the
Lower Gallery, shaded by the finest ilexes, elms, and oaks, which
'high over-arch'd embower,' and where there is one ilex which
twelve men can hardly embrace) to the Doria Villa, once Pompey's
and likewise Domitian's, who included both Clodius's and Pompey's
in his own. There are no remains here, but some arabesques in a
sort of grotto, which I suspect are modern. All their villas
command views of the Campagna, the sea, Rome, and the mountains.
It is no wonder Hannibal was deeply mortified when he looked down
on Rome from these hills (the hills at least close by called the
Prati d'Annibale) at having twice just missed taking it. Poetry
and history contribute alike to the interest of this beautiful
scenery. We met an Englishman, a single bird who had lost his
covey, and had procured a guide who could not understand what he
said. He wanted to go to Albano, and the man was taking him to
the Emissarium. We put him right, but his fury in mixed Italian,
French, and English was exceedingly comical. It was unlucky that
we met him at the top instead of the bottom of the hill.

The road to Aricia, where Horace got such a bad dinner--

              Egressum magnâ me excepit Aricia Româ
              Hospitio modico--

is beautiful, and close to Gensano we went to look at the Lake of
Nemi, which is very pretty, but not so grand as Albano. The
peasantry are a fine race in these parts, and we met many men
driving carts or riding asses who would not disgrace the most
romantic group of banditti. The people were all working in the
open air, and seemed very gay. There were few beggars, and not
much rags and wretchedness.

Started from Velletri at six in the morning; went very quick over
the Pontine Marshes (which form an avenue of about twenty miles,
quite straight, shaded with trees, and with vegetation of
remarkable luxuriance on each side) to Terracina (Anxur), where
we breakfasted in a room looking upon the sea. The place is
extremely pretty. Thence to Mola di Gaeta, which is very
beautiful, but where we did not stop; and, after a very tiresome
journey, got to Naples at two o'clock in the morning. Vesuvius
was so obliging as to emit some flames as we passed by, just to
show us his whereabouts. They were, however, his first and his
last while I was at Naples.


Naples, April 18th, 1830 {p.333}

I am disappointed with Naples. I looked for more life and gaiety,
a more delicious air, beautiful town, and picturesque lazaroni,
more of Punch, more smoke and flame from Vesuvius. It strikes me
as less beautiful than Genoa, but these are only first impressions.
The Bay and the Villa Reale, a garden along the sea, full of
sweets and sea breezes and shade, are certainly delightful. All
the people seem anxious to cheat as much as they can, from the
master of the inn to the driver of the hackney-coach. At present
I don't feel disposed to stay here, and when I have seen Paestum,
Pompeii, and the environs I shall be glad to get back to Rome.
Sir Henry Lushington said at dinner yesterday he had seen at
Naples a 'Courier' newspaper of that day week, produced by
Rothschild and brought by one of his couriers. I came very fast,
but was 236 hours on the road, including 20 hours' stoppage.
This is 168 hours, which appears incredible, but 'gold imp'd by
Jews can compass hardest things.'


April 19th, 1830 {p.334}

I retract all I said about disappointment, for I have since seen
Naples, and it is the most beautiful and the gayest town in the
world. Yesterday morning with Morier I walked up to the Castle of
St. Elmo and the Certosa; went over the chapel, which is full of
costly marbles, and fine pictures both in oil and fresco,
particularly one by Spagnolet as fine as any at Rome or anywhere.
Tasted the _custode's_ lachryma Christi, which, if it be as good
of the sort as he pretends, is middling stuff, but not bad with
water. Saw all the views, which are magnificent. Walked down to
the Villa Reale, which was crowded with people, and the
Chiaja with carriages. Dined with Hill--half English and half
foreigners--and went to the Opera; a very indifferent opera of
Rossini, ill sung, called the 'Siege of Corinth.'

This morning at half-past eight we went to the Court of Justice
to hear an extraordinary trial which excites great interest here.
The proceedings of the day happened to be very uninteresting, not
that it made much difference, for I could not understand a word
anybody said, but I had an opportunity of seeing the manner in
which they conduct trials in this country, and the behaviour of
the judges, the counsel, and the prisoners. Nothing can be less
analogous than the proceedings here to those which prevail in our
courts; and although it is possible that ours might be better, it
is not possible that theirs could be worse.

I soon left the Court, and walked up the Strada di Toledo--the
finest and liveliest street in the world, I believe--crowded with
people. An Italian proverb says, 'Quando Dio onnipotente è
tristo, prende una finestra nella Toledo.' Then to the Museum, of
which everything was shut but the library and the papyri. The
former contains 180,000 volumes, but is deficient in modern
(particularly foreign) books. They showed us the process of
deciphering the papyri, which is very ingenious. The manuscript
(which is like a piece of charcoal) is suspended by light strings
in a sort of frame; gum and goldbeater's skin are applied to it
as it is unrolled, and, by extreme delicacy of touch, they
contrive to unravel without destroying a great deal of it, but
probably they have been discouraged by the small reward which has
attended their exertions; for there are several black-looking
rolls which have never yet been touched, and very few men at
work. The gentlemen who explained to us the process said that Sir
Humphrey Davy had attended them constantly, and had taken great
pains to contrive some better chemical process for the purpose,
but without success.


[Page Head: MARQUIS DI GALLO'S VILLA]

April 20th, 1830 {p.335}

A delightful drive (made by Murat) to the Marquis di Gallo's
villa on the Capo di Monte, which far surpasses all the villas I
saw at Rome. The entrance is about half a mile from the house,
through a wood, one part of which is a vineyard; the vines
hanging in festoons from cherry trees, and corn growing
underneath. The house is not large, but convenient; a wide
terrace runs along the whole front of it with a white marble
balustrade; below this is a second terrace covered with
rose-trees; below that a third, planted with vines, and oranges,
and myrtles. From the upper terrace the view is beautiful. Naples
lies beneath, and the Bay stretches beyond with the opposite
mountains, and all the towns and villages from Portici to
Sorrento. On the right the Castle of St. Elmo and the Certosa,
and Vesuvius on the left. There is a large wood on one side, cut
into shady walks and laid out with grottoes, and on the other a
vineyard, through which there is also a walk under a treillage of
vines for nearly half a mile. The ground extremely diversified,
and presenting in every part of it views of the surrounding
country--

                       Umbrageous grots and caves
          Of cool recess, o'er which the mantling vine
          Lays forth her purple grape, and gently creeps
          Luxuriant.

It is always let, and, till he went away, was occupied by
Stackelberg, the Russian Ambassador.

In the evening went to a ball at the Duchesse d'Eboli's; very few
people, and hardly any English, and those not the best--only
four, I think: Sir Henry Lushington, the Consul; a Mr. Grieve, of
whom I know nothing but that his father was a physician at St.
Petersburg, and that he killed his brother at Eton by putting a
cracker into his pocket on the 5th of November, which set fire to
other crackers and burnt him to death; Mr. Auldjo, the man who
made a very perilous ascent of Mont Blanc, of which he published
a narrative; Mr. Arbuthnot, who levanted from Doncaster two years
ago--but most of the Italian women were there, and I was
surprised at their beauty. Acton, who introduced me to some of
them, assured me that they were models of conduct, which did not
precisely tally with my preconceived notions of Neapolitan
society. They danced, but with no music but a pianoforte. This is
one of the few houses here which is habitually open, for they
have not the means of doing much in the way of society and
gaiety; they are poor, and the Government (the worst in the
world) interferes. The Duchesse d'Eboli is poor, but she was a
beauty, and has had adventures of various sorts.


[Page Head: MATTEIS'S TRIAL]

April 21st, 1830 {p.336}

Dined with Keppel Craven yesterday; Acton, Morier, Duchesse
d'Eboli, and some other people.

The day was so disagreeable yesterday I could not go out--not
cold, but a hurricane and clouds of dust. The principal topic of
conversation at dinner was the trial, which goes on every day,
has already lasted a month, and is likely to last two or three
more. The Code Napoléon is in force here, so that there may
probably be something like a certain and equal administration
of justice between man and man; but this is a Government
prosecution, and therefore exempted from ordinary rules. The
history of this trial exemplifies the state of both the law and
the Government of this country. The accused are five in number;
the principal of them, Matteis, was an _intendente_, or governor,
of a province; 2nd, the advocate-general of the province; 3rd,
Matteis's secretary; and 4th and 5th, two spies. These men united
in a conspiracy to destroy various persons who were obnoxious to
them in the province, some of them actuated by political motives,
and others in order to get possession of the property of their
victims. The bugbear of the Court is Carbonarism, and Matteis
pretended that there was a Carbonari plot on foot, in which
several persons were implicated. He employed the spies to seduce
the victims into some imprudence of language or conduct, and then
to inform against them; in this way he apprehended various
individuals, some of whom were tortured, some imprisoned or sent
to the galleys, and some put to death. These transactions took
place eight or nine years ago, and such was the despotism of this
man and the terror he inspired, that no resistance was made to
his proceedings, or any appeal against them ever sent to Naples.
At last one of his own secretaries made some disclosures to
Government, and the case appeared so atrocious that it was
thought necessary to institute an immediate enquiry. The
_intendente_ was ordered to Naples, and commissioners were sent
to obtain evidence in the province and sift the matter to the
bottom. After much delay they made a report confirming the first
accusations and designating these five men as the criminals. As
soon as the matter was thus taken up, the public indignation
burst forth, and a host of witnesses who had been deterred by
fear from opening their lips came forward to depose against
Matteis and his associates. They were arrested in the year 1825
and thrown into prison, but owing to the difficulties and delay
which they contrived by their influence to interpose, and to the
anomalous character of the prosecution, five years elapsed before
the proceedings began. At length a royal order constituted a
Court of Justice, composed of all the judges of the Court of
Cassation (about twenty), the highest tribunal in the kingdom,
and they have just been enjoined not to separate till the final
adjudication of the case. Although the offences with which the
criminals are charged are very different in degree, they are all
arraigned together; a host of witnesses are examined, each of
whom tells a story or makes a speech, and the evidence is
accordingly very confused, now affecting one and now another of
them. They have counsel and the right of addressing the Court
themselves, which the _intendente_ avails himself of with such
insolence that they are obliged to begin the proceedings of each
day by reading an order to the prisoners to behave themselves
decently to the Court. Their counsel are assigned by the Court,
and it is not one of the least extraordinary parts of this case
that the advocate of Matteis is his personal enemy, and a man
whom he displaced from an office he once held in the province.
They say, however, that he defends him very fairly and zealously.
The day I was there the proceedings were uninteresting, but
yesterday they were very important. An officer was examined who
had been imprisoned and ill-treated in prison, and who deposed to
various acts of cruelty. They on their part hardly deny the
facts, but attempt to justify them by proving that the sufferers
really were Carbonari, that other governors had done the same
thing, and that they were doing a service to the Government by
these pretended plots and consequent executions. Though their
guilt is clear, it is by no means so clear that they will be
condemned, or at least all of them. The public indignation is so
great that they must sacrifice some of them, and the spies, it is
said, will certainly be hanged. Matteis has interest in the
Court, but, as a majority of votes will decide his fate, it is
most likely he will be condemned.


April 22nd, 1830 {p.338}

Yesterday to Pompeii, far better worth seeing than anything else
in Italy. Who can look at other ruins after this? At Rome there
are certain places consecrated by recollections, but the
imagination must be stirred up to enjoy them; here you are
actually in a Roman town. Shave off the upper storey of any town,
take out windows, doors, and furniture, and it will be as Pompeii
now is: it is marvellous. About one-fifth part of the town has
been excavated, and the last house found is the largest. It is
said 1,000 men would clear it in a year, and there are thirty at
work. The road is a bed of dust, and infested with blind beggars,
each led by a boy. There are habitations almost uninterruptedly
along the road between Naples and Pompeii, built apparently for
no other reason than because they are exposed to eruptions of the
mountain, for any other part of the Bay would be just as
agreeable, and safe from that danger.

[Page Head: TAKING THE VEIL]

This morning we went to an Ursuline convent to see two girls
take the veil. The ceremony was neither imposing, nor interesting,
nor affecting, nor such as I expected. I believe all this would
have been the case had it been the black veil, but it was the
white unfortunately. I thought they would be dressed splendidly,
have their hair cut off in the church, be divested (in the
convent) of their finery, and reappear to take leave of their
relations in the habit of the order. Not at all. I went with A.
Hill and Legge, who had got tickets from the brother of one of
the _sposine_; we were admitted to the grating, an apartment
about ten feet long by five wide, with a very thick double
grating, behind which some of the nuns appeared and chattered. A
turning box supplied coffee and cakes to the company. I went to
the door of the parlour (which was open), but they would not
admit me. There the ladies were received, and the nuns and
novices were laughing and talking and doing the honours. Their
dress was not ugly--black, white, and a yellow veil. The chapel
was adorned with gold brocade, and blue and silver hangings,
flowers, tapers; a good orchestra, and two or three tolerable
voices. It was as full as it could hold, and soldiers were
distributed about to keep order; even by the altar four stood
with fixed bayonets, who when the Host was raised presented
arms--a military salute to the Real Presence! The brother of one
of the girls did the honours of the chapel, placing the ladies
and bustling about for chairs, which all the time the ceremony
was going on were handed over heads and bonnets, to the great
danger of the latter. It was impossible not to be struck with
this man's gaiety and _sang-froid_ on the occasion, but he is
used to it, for this was the fourth sister he has buried here.
When the chapel was well crammed the _sposine_ appeared, each
with two _marraines_. A table and six chairs were placed opposite
the altar; on the table were two trays, each containing a Prayer
Book, a pocket-handkerchief, and a white veil. The girls (who
were very young, and one of them rather pretty) were dressed in
long black robes like dressing-gowns, their hair curled, hanging
down their backs and slightly powdered. On the top of their
heads were little crowns of blue, studded with silver or
diamonds. The ladies attending them (one of whom was Princess
Fondi and another Princess Bressano) were very smart, and all the
people in the chapel were dressed as for a ball. There was a
priest at the table to tell the girls what to do. High Mass was
performed, then a long sermon was delivered by a priest who spoke
very fluently, but with a strange twang and in a very odd style,
continually apostrophising the two girls by name, comparing them
to olives and other fruit, to _candelabri_, and desiring them to
keep themselves pure that 'they might go as virgins into the
chamber of their beloved.' When the Sacrament was administered
the ladies took the crowns off the girls, who were like automata
all the time, threw the white veils over them, and led them to
the altar, where the Sacrament was administered to them; then
they were led back to their seats, the veils taken off and the
crowns replaced. After a short interval they were again led to
the altar, where, on their knees, their profession was read to
them; in this they are made to renounce the world and their
parents; but at this part, which is at the end, a murmuring noise
is made by the four ladies who kneel with them at the altar, that
the words may not be heard, being thought too heart-rending to
the parents; then they are led out and taken into the convent,
and the ceremony ends. The girls did not seem the least affected,
but very serious; the rest of the party appeared to consider it
as a _fête_, and smirked and gossiped; only the father of one of
them, an old man, looked as if he felt it. The brother told me
his sister was eighteen; that she would be a nun, and that they
had done all they could to dissuade her. It is a rigid order, but
there is a still more rigid rule within the convent. Those
nuns who embrace it are for ever cut off from any sort of
communication with the world, and can never again see or
correspond with their own family. They cannot enter into this
last seclusion without the consent of their parents, which
another of this man's four sisters is now soliciting.

We afterwards drove through the Grotto of Pausilippo, that
infernal grotto which one must pass through to get out of Naples
on one side; it is a source of danger, and the ancient account of
it is not the least exaggerated:--

    Nihil isto carcere longius, nihil illis faucibus
    obscurius, quo nobis praestant non ut per tenebras
    videamus sed ut ipsas.

There are a few glimmering lamps always obscured by dust, and it
is never hardly light enough to avoid danger except at night; in
the middle it is pitch dark.

Then round the Strada Nuova, Murat's delightful creation, and
walked in the Villa Reale, where I found Acton, who had been all
the morning at the trial, which was very interesting. A woman was
examined, who deposed that her husband was thrown into prison and
ill-treated by Matteis because he would not give some false
evidence that he required of him; that she went to Matteis and
entreated him to release him, and that he told her he would if
she would bring her daughter to him, which she refused, and he
was put to death. On this evidence being given, the examining
judge dropped the paper, and a murmur of horror ran through the
audience. The accused attacked the witness and charged her with
perjury, and said he was ill in bed at the time alluded to. The
woman retorted, 'Canaglia, tu sai ch' egli è vero,' and there was
a debate between the counsel on either side, and witnesses were
called who proved that he was in good health at the time. They
think the evidence of to-day and the apparent disposition of the
judges must hang him.


[Page Head: BAIAE]

Salerno, April 24th, 1830 {p.341}

Here Morier and I are going to pass the night on our way to
Paestum, and as he is gone to bed (at half-past eight) I must
write. Yesterday morning Morier, St. John, Lady Isabella, and I
went to Pozzuoli, embarked in a wretched boat to make the _giro_
of Baiae.

        Ante bonam Venerem gelidae per litora Baiae
        Illa natare lacu cum lampade jussit amorem,
        Dura natat, algentes cecidit scintilla per undas,
        Hinc vapor ussit aquas, quicumque natavit, amavit.

        Venus bade Cupid on fair Baiae's side
        Plunge with his torch into the glassy tide;
        As the boy swam the sparks of mischief flew
        And fell in showers upon the liquid blue;
        Hence all who venture on that shore to lave
        Emerge love-stricken from the treacherous wave.

I was disappointed with the country, which is bare and
uninteresting; but the line of coast, with the various bays and
promontories and the circumjacent islands, is extremely
agreeable, and the Bay of Baiae, with the Temple of Venus,
delightful. The Temple of Mercury is also worth seeing. The Cave
of the Sybil, Lake Avernus, and Temple of Apollo are not worth
seeing, but as they are celebrated by Virgil they must be
visited, though the embellishments of Virgil's imagination and
the lapse of time have made disappointment inevitable. Nature
indeed no longer presents the same aspect; for there is a
mountain more (Monte Nuovo) and a wood less about the lake than
in Virgil's time. We found two ridiculous parties there, one
English, the other French, the latter the most numerous and
chattering, and mounted on asses, so as to make a long cavalcade.
There was a fat old gentleman just coming puffing out of the
cave, and calling with delight to his ladies, 'Ah, mesdames,
êtes-vous noires?' as they certainly were, for all one gets in
the cave is a blackened face from the torches. There was another
gaunt figure of the party in a fur cap, who was playing the
flute--

               His reedy pipe with music fills,
               To charm the God who loves the hills
               And rich Arcadian scenery.

We landed from our boat in various places, but declined going
down the Cento Camerelle to have a second face-blackening.
All the ruins, said to be of Caesar's and Marius's Villas,
Agrippina's Tomb, Caligula's Bridge, &c., may be anything; they
are nothing but shapeless fragments, only on a rock I saw a bit
of marble or stucco in what they call Caesar's Villa. The Stygian
Lake presented no horrors, nor the Elysian Fields any delights;
the former is a great round piece of water, and the latter are
very common-looking vineyards. When well wooded, which in the
time of the Romans it was, this coast must have been a most
delicious and luxurious retreat, so sequestered and sheltered,
such a calm sea, and soft breezes.

          Mira quies pelagi; ponunt hic lassa furorem
          Aequora, et insani spirant clementius Austri.

We went up to look at the old harbour of Misenum, where, instead
of a Roman fleet, were a few fishing-boats, and walked back
through fields in which spring was bursting forth through endless
varieties of cultivation--figs, mulberries, and cherry trees,
with festoons of vines hanging from tree to tree, and corn, peas,
and beans springing up underneath.

Our boatmen, as we rowed back, were very proud of their English,
and kept on saying 'Pull away,' 'Now boys,' and other phrases
they have picked up from our sailors. This morning we set off
to come here [to Salerno] with Vetturino horses; the dust
intolerable; stopped at Pompeii, and walked half round the walls
and to the Amphitheatre. All the ground (now covered with
vineyards) belongs to the King (for Murat bought it); the
profusion and brilliancy of the wild flowers make it quite a
garden--

        Flowers worthy of Paradise, which not nice art
        In beds and curious knots, but nature boon
        Pours forth profuse on hill, and dale, and plain.

[Page Head: EXCAVATIONS AT POMPEII]

If Murat had continued on the throne two or three years longer,
the whole town would have been excavated. He, and still more the
Queen, took great interest in it, and they both went there
frequently. She used to see the houses excavated, and one day
they found the skeleton of a woman with gold bracelets and
earrings, which were brought to her, and she put them on herself
directly. In their time 800 men and 50 cars were at work; now
there are 40 men and 6 cars. The expense of 800 men and 50 cars
would be about £13,000 a year, but these men will spend nothing.
A car costs a scudo, and a man four carlins, a day. (A scudo is
ten carlins, a carlin fourpence.) The Royal Family seldom or
never come here; the Duke of Calabria has been once. The
Amphitheatre, though not to be compared in size or beauty with
the Coliseum, is much more perfect. The road here is beautiful,
particularly about La Cava. I walked up to the Convent of the
Trinità; it stands on the brink of a deep ravine in the middle of
the hills, which are tossed into a hundred different shapes and
covered with foliage--a magnificent situation. The convent is
very large, and well kept; it contains fifty monks, who were most
of them walking about the road. Here were all the raw materials
requisite for a romance--a splendid setting sun, mountains,
convent, flock of goats, evening bell, friars, and peasants.
Arrived here, delighted with the outside and disgusted with the
inside of the town; but the Bay of Salerno is beautiful, the
place gay and populous, all staring at a fire-balloon which was
just ascending, and soon after came down in the sea. The inns
execrable. We got into one at last, in which there is a wide
terrace looking over the sea, and there we ordered our dinner to
be laid; but we were soon driven in, not by the cold, but by the
flaring of our tallow candles.

We were obliged to write our names down for the police, who are
very busy and inquisitive. One man, whose name was just before
mine, had added this poetical encomium on the inn:--

             I mention by way of _guidanza_
               For those who are going to Paestum,
             They'll find at this inn, the 'Speranza,'
               A good place to eat and to rest 'em.

I could not concur with this poet, so I added to my name this
contradiction:--

            On the 'Hope's' being such a good treat
              We must both put our positive vetos;
            We not only got nothing to eat,
              But ourselves were ate up by mosquitos.


[Page Head: PAESTUM]

Naples, April 25th, 1830 {p.344}

Started at four o'clock in the morning from Salerno, and got to
Paestum at eight. Tormented to death by beggars and ciceroni
(often both characters in one), for in Italy everybody who shows
a stranger about is a cicerone, from Professor Nibby down to a
Calabrian peasant. There is little beauty in the scenery of
Paestum, but the temples amply repay the trouble of the journey.
I agree with Forsyth that they are the most impressive monuments
I have ever seen. The famed roses of Paestum have disappeared,
but there are thousands of lizards 'nunc virides etiam occultant
spineta lacertos.' No excavations have ever been made here, but
they talk of excavating. There were some fine Etruscan vases
found in a tomb at Paestum, which we did not see. The brute of a
_custode_ knew nothing of it, nor should I if I had not seen the
model in the Museum afterwards. Thousands of Etruscan vases may
be had for digging; they are found in all the tombs. The peasants
have heaps of little carved images of terra cotta and coins,
which they offer for sale. I believed they were fabricated, but a
man I met there showed me two or three that he had turned up with
his stick, so that they may be genuine. What treasures Naples
possesses, and how unworthy she is of them! Paestum[1] long
neglected, and Pompeii hardly touched! At Rome they are always
digging and doing something, and though the Papal Government is
neither active nor rich, I do believe they would not let this
town (Pompeii, I mean) remain buried when a few thousand pounds
would bring it all to light. There seem to be no habitations near
Paestum, but there is a church, which was well attended, for the
peasants were on their knees all round it; and while we were
breakfasting (in a manger with the horses out in the air) they
came out, strange-looking figures, rude, uncouth, and sunburnt,
and without any of the finery which they generally wear on a
Sunday.

      [1] The authorities of course can't agree when Paestum was
          built, and by whom, or whether one of the temples (the
          largest) was a temple or a basilica. The perfect state
          of these temples, particularly that called of Neptune,
          is the more remarkable because there are scarcely any
          vestiges of other buildings. Morier thought them
          inferior to the temples at Athens, but so they may well
          be; the Athenian temples are built of white marble from
          the Pentelic quarries, and highly ornamented by
          Phidias.


Naples, April 26th, 1830 {p.345}

To the Museum; met the Dalbergs and Prince and Princess
Aldobrandini, a good-looking daughter and two sons. They will
have all Prince Borghese's estate. I only went into the Pompeii
and Herculaneum part of the collections.

The lazaroni are very amusing. This morning four of them stripped
stark naked under my window, put off in a boat, and thirty yards
from the shore fished for cockle fish, which they do by diving
like ducks, throwing their feet up in the air as the ducks do
their tails. The creatures are perfectly amphibious; they don't
care who sees them, and their forms are perfect. Then there are
little lazaroni who ape the big ones. Met a christening this
morning, and then a funeral. The wet nurse, full dressed, was
carried in a sedan chair down the middle of the street, and the
child, dressed also, held out of the window in her arms, and so
she was going to church. The funeral was a priest's--a long file
of penitents in white, carrying torches, a bier covered with
crimson and gold, and the priest dressed in robes and exposed
upon it, a ghastly sight, with a chalice in his hand and a book
at his feet, other priests following, the cross borne before him.
When young girls are buried in this way, they are gaily dressed
with chaplets of flowers, a flower in the mouth, and flowers at
their feet.

Rode to the race-course and round the hills; such views and such
an evening! At seven o'clock I could see the houses at Sorrento,
nineteen miles off on the other side of the Bay. Dined with
Acton; none but English. In the evening went to Toledo, the
Spanish Ambassador's. The Duc de Dalberg talked of an association
to excavate at Calabria and Apulia. The Government reserves four
places--Pompeii, Paestum, Stabiae, Herculaneum--for its own use,
and anybody may excavate elsewhere who will be at the trouble and
expense.


[Page Head: ANTIQUE PAINTING]

April 29th, 1830 {p.346}

On Tuesday again to the Museum and the King's Palace; rather
fine, good house, very ridiculous pictures of the royal families
of Naples and Spain. The Duchess of Floridia's apartment (old
Ferdinand's wife) is delightful; the rooms are furnished with
blue satin and white silk, opening upon a terrace covered with
orange-trees, flowers, and shaded walks, and looks over the Bay.
A few fine pictures, but not many. There is a bath, built after
one of those at Pompeii.

From what I saw at the Museum, I see no reason to doubt that the
ancients were as excellent in painting as in sculpture; there are
some very exquisite paintings taken from Pompeii. Then we are not
to believe that the best have been found, or that a provincial
town contained the finest specimens of the art. Painted on walls,
they appear deficient in light and shade, but the drawing and
expression, and sometimes the colouring (allowing for spoiling),
are very good. There are some Cupids playing at games, and
driving chariots, very like the Julio Romanos in the Lanti Villa
at Rome, which indeed were borrowed from the ancient frescoes
discovered in the Baths of Titus. The bronzes taken out of
Herculaneum and Pompeii are very interesting, because they
display the whole domestic economy of the ancients, and their
excellent taste in furniture, sacrificial instruments, &c., but
there is nothing particularly curious in the fact of their pots
and pans being like our pots and pans, for if they were to boil
and stew they could not well have performed those operations with
a different kind of utensils. However, all the people marvel at
them; they seem to think the Romans must have been beings of a
different organisation, and that everything that is not
dissimilar is strange. What is really curious is a surgical
instrument which was lately found, exactly similar to one
invented thirty years ago in France. The lava would not touch
bronze; the iron was always encrusted and spoilt, but the bronze
things all look like new.


May 2nd, 1830 {p.347}

Went to the Lake of Agnano and the Grotto del Cane; very pretty
lake, evidently the crater of a volcano; saw the dog perform; a
sight neither interesting nor cruel; the dog did not mind it a
bit, and the old woman must make a fortune, for she had eight
carlins for it. The grotto is very hot and steaming; a torch goes
out held near the ground, and when I put my face down the steam
from the earth went up my nose like salts. Virgil's Tomb, which
is very picturesque, and from whence the common view of Naples is
taken; there has been plenty of discussion whether it really is
Virgil's tomb or not. Forsyth seems to doubt it, with one of his
off-hand flings at the authority for its being so, a sort of 'Who
the Devil, I humbly beg to know, is Donatus?' but there is
tradition in its favour, the fact of Virgil having been buried
here or hereabouts, and the honour being claimed by no other
spot. When there is probability it is unwise to be so very
sceptical: take away names, and what are the places themselves?
Here not much, at Rome nothing.


[Page Head: RUINS ABOUT NAPLES]

Thursday. {p.348}

Went a long and most beautiful ride up to the Camaldoli, from
which the view extends over sea and land to an immense distance
in every direction.

                             Thus was this place
                A happy rural seat of various views.

The convent was once very rich, but the French stripped all the
convents of their property, which they have never since
recovered. It is remarkably clean and spacious. Each monk has a
house of his own containing two or three little rooms, and a
little garden, and they only eat together on particular days. The
old man who took us about said he had been there since he was
eighteen, had been turned out by the French, but came back as
soon as he could, and had never regretted becoming a monk. He
showed me a bust of the founder of their order (I think San
Romualdo), and when I asked him how many years ago it was
founded, he said, 'Perhaps 2,000.' I said when I became a monk I
would go to that convent, when he asked very seriously if I was
going to be a monk. I said, 'Not just yet.' 'Very well,' he said;
'you must pay 120 ducats, and you can come here.' We went down a
road cut for miles in the mountain, very narrow and steep,
through shady lanes, groves, and vineyards (with magnificent
views), through Pianura to Pozzuoli, entering by the old Roman
road and Street of Tombs. The _columbaria_ in the Street of Tombs
are the best worth seeing _ejus generis_ of any. Went to the
Temple of Jupiter Serapis, of which there are very curious
remains.

                        Hard by the reverent ruins
          Of a once glorious temple, reared to Jove,
          Whose very rubbish (like the pitied fall
          Of virtue, most unfortunate) yet bears
          A deathless majesty, though now quite rased,
          Hurl'd down by wrath and lust of impious kings,
          So that where holy Flamens wont to sing
          Sweet hymns to Heaven, there the daw and crow,
          The ill-voiced raven, and still chattering pie
          Send out ungrateful sounds.
                                                 MARSTON.

To the ruins of the Amphitheatre, from the top of which there is
one of the finest views I ever saw of the Bay of Baiae and the
islands; and then to the Solfaterra. The ruins scattered about
Naples (those at Pozzuoli, for instance) are far more extensive
than most of those at Rome, but partly 'carent quia vate sacro,'
and partly because there are no well-known names attached to
them, the ground is not so holy, and little is said or thought
about them. If these temples were at Rome, what an uproar they
would cause! The Solfaterra is remarkable as a sort of link
between the quick and the dead volcanoes; it is considered
extinct, but the earth is hot, the sulphur strong, and at a
particular spot, when a hole is made, it hisses and throws up
little stones and ashes, and exhibits a sort of volcano in
miniature, but the surface of the crater is overgrown with
vegetation. The road to Naples by the convent of the Jesuits and
Chapel of St. Januarius is the most beautiful I ever saw,
particularly towards sunset, when the colouring is so rich and
varied. It lies over a crest commanding a prospect of the
mountains on one side and the sea on the other.

                              Quid mille revolvam
                     Culmina visendique vices.


May 3rd, 1830 {p.349}

We sailed across the Bay to Resina, to see Herculaneum, the old
and new excavations. At the new there are only seven or eight men
at work; the old are hardly worth seeing. So much earth and
cinders are mixed with the lava in the new part, that they might
excavate largely if they would spend money enough; at present
they have only excavated one or two houses, but have found some
bronzes and marbles. The houses are laid open, just like those at
Pompeii.

[Page Head: ASCENT OF VESUVIUS]

The next day Morier, Watson, and I set off to ascend Vesuvius; we
rode on donkeys from Salvatore's house to the bottom of the last
ascent, which was rather less formidable than I expected, though
fatiguing enough. Another party went up at the same time: one man
of that party, Watson, and I walked up alone; the others were all
lugged up. They take the bridles off the donkeys and put them on
the men; the luggee holds by this tackle and the guide goes
before him. After infinite puffing and perspiring, and resting at
every big stone, I reached the top in thirty-five minutes. It was
very provoking to see the facility with which the creatures who
attended us sprang up. There was one fellow with nothing on but a
shirt and half a pair of breeches, who walked the whole way from
Resina with a basket on his head full of wine, bread, and
oranges, and while we were slipping, and clambering, and toiling
with immense difficulty he bounded up, with his basket on his
head, as straight as an arrow all the time, and bothering us to
drink when we had not breath to answer. I took three or four
oranges, some bread, and a bottle of wine of him at the top, and
when I asked Salvatore what I should pay him, he said two carlins
(eightpence English). I gave him three (a shilling), and he was
transported. It was a magnificent evening, and the sunset from
the top of Vesuvius (setting in the sea) a glorious sight--

                                      For the sun,
         Declined, was hastening now with prone career
         To the ocean's isles, and in th' ascending scale
         Of heaven the stars, that usher evening, rose.

The view, too, all round is very grand; the towns round the Bay
appear so clear, yet so minute. I had formed to myself a very
different idea of the crater, of which the dimensions are very
deceitful; it is so much larger than it appears. The bottom of
the crater is flat, covered with masses of lava and sulphur, but
anybody may walk all about it. At one end stands what looks like
a little black hillock, from which smoke was rising, as it was
from various crevices in different parts; that little hillock is
the crater from which all eruptions burst. The mountain was
provokingly still, and only gave one low grumble and a very small
emission of smoke and fire while we were there; it has never been
more tranquil. The descent is very good fun, galloping down the
cinders; you have only to take care not to tumble over the
stones; slipping is impossible. The whole ascent of the mountain
is interesting, particularly in that part which is like a great
ocean of lava, and where the guides point out the courses of the
different eruptions, all of which may be distinctly traced. We
got to the Hermitage just as it was dark; there was still a red
tint round the western horizon, and the islands were dimly
shadowed out, while the course of the Bay was marked by a
thousand dancing lights. Salvatore has especial care of the
mountain under the orders of Government, to whom he is obliged to
make a daily report of its state, and he is as fond of it as a
nurse of a favourite child, or a trainer at Newmarket of his best
race-horse, and delights in telling anecdotes of old eruptions
and phenomena, and of different travellers who have ascended it.

Two years ago an English merchant here laid a bet of 200
napoleons that he would go from Resina[2] to the top in an hour
and a half. Salvatore went with him, and they did it in an hour
and thirteen minutes. The Englishman rode relays of horses, but
the guide went the whole way on foot, and the best part of the
ascent had to drag up his companion He said it nearly killed him,
and he did not recover from it for several weeks; he is 53 years
old, but a very handsome man. He said, however, that the fatigue
of this exploit was not so painful as what he went through in
carrying the Duke of Buckingham to the top; he was carried up in
a chair by twelve men, and the weight was so enormous that his
shoulder was afterwards swelled up nearly to his head. When the
Duke got down he gave a great dinner (on the mountain), which he
had brought with him to celebrate the exploit. Salvatore said
that he continues to write to many scientific men in various
parts of Europe when anything remarkable occurs in the mountain,
and talked of Buckland, Playfair, and Davy. We got down to Resina
about half-past nine, and at ten embarked again and sailed over
to Castel-a-Mare, where we arrived at one o'clock.

      [2] From Salvatore's house at Resina to the top of the
          mountain is seven miles; from the Hermitage to the top,
          3-1/3. It is a mile and 200 feet from the bottom of the
          ascent (on foot) to the top, 800 feet from the point we
          first gain to the bottom of the crater; the inner
          crater (or black hill, as I call it) is 230 feet high
          and 180 feet in circumference. The miles are Neapolitan
          miles, about three-fourths of an English mile.

The next morning Mr. Watson and I got a six-oared boat (with
sails) and went to Sorrento. Castel-a-Mare and the whole coast
are beautiful. Landed a mile from Sorrento, and walked by a path
cut in the rock to the Cocomella, a villa with a magnificent
prospect of the Bay exactly opposite Naples.

                               Placido lunata recessu
         Hinc atque hinc curvas perrumpunt aequora rupes.
         Dat natura locum, montique intervenit imum
         Litus et in terras scopulis pendentibus exit.

Then to the town to see the curiosities, which are the Piscine,
Tasso's house, and some very romantic caverns in a wild dell
under the bridge at Sorrento; all very well worth seeing, but
Tasso's house was locked, so we could not get to the terrace.
Just as we arrived at Sorrento we found they were performing a
ceremony which takes place there every year on the 1st of May,
and there only--the benediction of the flowers, the ushering in
the may.

           With songs and dance they celebrate the day,
           And with due honours usher in the may.

It was in the Archiepiscopal church, which was gaily adorned with
hangings of various colours, gold and silver and flowers, full of
people, all in their best attire. A priest in the pulpit opposite
the Archbishop's throne called on the representatives of the
different parishes (seven in number), who advanced in succession,
each bearing a huge cross fifteen or twenty feet high, entirely
made of flowers, and adorned with garlands and devices, all
likewise of the most brilliant flowers, and, as each came up, a
little cannon was fired off. They were blessed in succession, and
then deposited around the throne of the Archbishop, who, after
this ceremony was concluded, went up to the altar and celebrated
High Mass. They told me that this festival had taken place at
Sorrento from the remotest time.

After seeing the Piscine we went into a garden above, where there
was a profusion of orange and lemon trees, loaded with ripe
fruit; the oranges we pulled off the trees and ate; they were
excellent, and as red as Morella cherries--

                Whose fruit, burnished with golden rind,
          Hung amiable, Hesperian fables true,
          If true, here only, of delicious taste.

We could not stay long at Sorrento, and were four hours rowing
across the Bay to Naples. Dined with Hill at the Villa Belvidere
(a delicious villa on the Vomero), with a large, tiresome party,
principally English.

[Page Head: THE BLOOD OF SAN GENNARO]

Yesterday the miracle of the blood of San Gennaro was performed,
and of course successfully; it will be repeated every morning for
eight days. I went to-day to the Cathedral, where San Gennaro's
silver bust was standing on one side of the altar, surrounded by
lights, and the vessel containing the blood on the other. Round
the altar were ranged silver heads of various saints, his
particular friends, who had accompanied him there to do him
honour, and who will be taken this evening with him in procession
to his own chapel. Acton and I went together, and one of the
people belonging to the church seeing us come in, and judging
that we wanted to see the blood, summoned one of the canons, who
was half asleep in a stall, who brought out the blood, which is
contained in a glass vase mounted with silver. It liquefies in
the morning, remains in that state all day, and congeals again at
night. A great many people were waiting to kiss the vessel, which
was handed to us first. We kissed it, and then it went round,
each person kissing it and touching it with his head, as they do
St. Peter's foot at Rome. San Gennaro and his silver companions
were brought in procession from one of the other churches, all
the nobility and an immense crowd attending. I had fancied that
the French had exposed and put an end to this juggle, but not at
all. They found the people so attached to the superstition that
they patronised it; they adorned the Chapel of St. Januarius with
a magnificent altarpiece and other presents. The first time
(after they came to Naples) that the miracle was to be performed
the blood would not liquefy, which produced a great ferment among
the people. It was a trick of the priests to throw odium on the
French, and the French General Championnet thought it so serious
that he sent word that if the blood did not liquefy forthwith the
priests should go to the galleys. It liquefied immediately, and
the people were satisfied. Acton told me that nobody believed it
but the common people, but that they did not dare to leave it
off. It is what is called a false position to be in, when they
are obliged to go on pretending to perform a miracle in which no
men of sense and education believe, and in which it is well known
they don't any of them believe themselves. Miracles, if sometimes
useful and profitable, are sometimes awkward incumbrances. Drove
round the obscure parts of the town, and through dense masses of
population, by the old palace of Queen Joan and the market place,
which was the scene of Masaniello's sedition. He was killed in
the great church (in 1646).


May 4th, 1830 {p.354}

To the Museum, and saw the mummies which have been unrolled; they
are like thin, black, shrivelled corpses; hair and shape of face
perfect, even the eyelids. The canvas fold in which they are
wrapped quite fresh-looking; the best preserved is 3,055 years
old. Amongst the bronzes there is a bust of Livia with a wig.
Dined with Toledo, the Spanish Minister. The women put their
knives into their mouths, and he is always kissing his wife's
hand--an ugly little old woman. Toledo was Romana's aide-de-camp.


May 5th, 1830 {p.354}

To Cumae, and dined at the Lake of Fusaro with the Talbots and
Lushingtons; not a pretty lake, but the country near it pretty
enough. A splendid sunset, with real purple. 'Lumine vestit
purpureo.'


[Page Head: THE BLOOD OF SAN GENNARO]

May 7th, 1830 {p.355}

In the morning to the Chapel of St. Januarius, to see the blood
liquefy. The grand ceremony was last Saturday at the Cathedral,
but the miracle is repeated every morning in the Chapel for eight
days. I never saw such a scene, at once so ludicrous and so
disgusting, but more of the latter. There was the saint, all
bedizened with pearls, on the altar, the other silver ladies and
gentlemen all round the chapel, with an abundance of tapers
burning before them. Certain people were admitted within the
rails of the altar; the crowd, consisting chiefly of women, and
most of them old women, were without. There is no service, but
the priests keep muttering and looking at the blood to see if it
is melting. To-day it was unusually long, so these old Sibyls
kept clamouring, 'Santa Trinità!' 'Santa Vergine!' 'Dio
onnipotente!' 'San Gennaro!' in loud and discordant chorus; still
the blood was obstinate,[3] so the priest ordered them to go down
on their knees and to say the Athanasian Creed, which is one of
the specifics resorted to in such a case. He drawled it out with
his eyes shut, and the women screamed the responses. This would
not do, so they fell to abuse and entreaties with a vehemence and
volubility, and a shrill clamour, which was at once a proof of
their sincerity and their folly. Such noise, such gesticulations.
One woman I never shall forget, with outstretched arm, distorted
visage, and voice of piercing sharpness. In the meantime the
priest handed about the phial to be kissed, and talked the matter
over with the bystanders. 'È sempre duro?' 'Sempre duro, adesso
v' è una piccola cosa.' At last, after all the handling, praying,
kissing, screaming, entreating, and abusing, the blood did
melt,[4] when the organ struck up, they all sang in chorus, and
so it ended. It struck me as particularly disgusting, though
after all it is not fair to abuse these poor people, who have all
been brought up in the belief of the miracle, and who fancy that
the prosperity of their city and all that it contains is somehow
connected with its due performance. The priests could not
discontinue it but by acknowledging the imposture, and by an
imaginative people, who are the slaves of prejudice, and attached
to it by force of inveterate habit, the acknowledgment would not
be believed, and they would only incur odium by it; there it is,
and (for some time at least) it must go on.

      [3] I dined at Hill's; sat next to the Duchess de Dalberg,
          talked of the miracle, which she told me she firmly
          believed. I fancied none believed it but the lowest of
          the people, and was (very foolishly) astonished; for
          what ought ever to produce astonishment which has to do
          with credulity in matters of religion?

      [4] Illarum lacrymae meditataque murmura praestant,--
          Juvenal, 6.

Went up to Craven's villa (this is the villa at which the amour
between the present Queen of Naples and Captain Hess was carried
on), and sat there doing nothing in the middle of flowers, and
sea breezes, and beautiful views. To comprehend all the luxury of
the _bel far niente_ one must come to Naples, where idleness
loses half its evil by losing all its enervating qualities; there
is something in the air so elastic that I have never been at any
place where I have felt as if I could make exertions so easily as
here, and yet it is a great pleasure to sit and look at the Bay,
the mountains, the islands, and the town, and watch its amusing
inhabitants. At least half an hour of every morning is spent at
my window, while I am dressing, watching the lazaroni, who fish,
work, swim, dress, cook, play, and quarrel under it. At this
moment the scene is as follows:--Half a dozen boats with awnings
and flags moored off the landing-place, a few fishing-boats with
men mending their nets, three fellows swimming about them, two
with red caps on perched upon the wall playing at cards, two or
three more looking on, one on the ground being shaved by a barber
with a basin (the exact counterpart of Mambrino's helmet), and
two or three more waiting their turn for the same operation--
always a certain number lounging about, others smoking or asleep.


[Page Head: ASTRONI]

May 8th, 1830 {p.355}

Rode with a large party to Astroni, where they dined, but I did
not. There were the Lushingtons, Prince and Princess Dentici (he
is at the head of the Douane), Madame and Mademoiselle Galiati
(she is remarkably pretty), Count (I believe) and Countess
Rivalvia, her uncle, Lord A. Chichester, Count Gregorio, and a
Mr. Stuart. The park, or whatever it is called--for it is the
King's chase and full of wild boars--is one of the most beautiful
and curious places about Naples. Milton's description of the
approach to Eden applies exactly to Astroni; if ever he saw it it
is likely that he meant to describe it--

                     To the border comes
           Of Eden, where delicious Paradise,
           Now nearer, crowns with her enclosure green,
           As with a rural mound, the champaign head
           Of a steep wilderness, whose hairy sides,
           With thicket overgrown, grotesque, and wild,
           Access denied; and overhead up grew
           Insuperable height of loftiest shade,
           A sylvan scene, and as the ranks ascend
           Shade above shade, a woody theatre
           Of stateliest view.

It is an immense crater of a volcano, the amphitheatre quite
unbroken, and larger than that of Vesuvius, but covered with
wood, and the bottom with very fine trees of various sorts and
with fern--very wild and picturesque. There are several little
hillocks, supposed to have been small craters; but although it is
proved that this was a volcano from the lava under the soil and
from its shape, there is no mention of it as an active volcano,
and nobody can tell how many thousand years ago it was in
operation. The King, with his usual good taste, is cutting down
the finest trees, and has made a ride round the bottom, which he
has planted with poplars in a double row, spoiling as much as he
can all the beauty of the place. They dined in a shady arbour,
made on purpose with branches of trees bound together, and on
beds of fern, were very merry, pelting each other with oranges
and cherries, and dealing about an abundance of manual jests.

_Evening._--I have taken my last ride and last look at Naples,
and am surprised at the sorrow I feel at quitting it, as I fear,
for ever. Rode again to Astroni with Morier, and walked through
the wood and tried to scale one of the sides of the mountain, but
lost the path, and could only get half-way up; it is the most
beautiful place about Naples. Came back by the Strada Nuova, and
saw for the last time that delicious Bay with its coast and its
islands, which are as deeply imprinted on my memory as if I had
passed my life among them. To-night I have stood once more by the
shore, and could almost have cried to think I should never see it
again--

             The smooth, surface of this summer sea--

nor breathe this delicious air, nor feast my eyes on the scene of
gaiety, and brilliancy, and beauty around me. Nobody can form an
idea of Naples without coming to it; every gale seems to bring
health and cheerfulness with it, and appears 'able to drive all
sadness but despair.'

Naples, they tell me, does very well for a short time, but you
will soon grow tired of it. To be sure, I have been here only
three weeks, but I liked it better every day, and I am wretched
at leaving it. What could I ever mean by thinking it was not gay,
and less lively than Genoa? To-night, as I came home from riding,
the shore was covered with lazaroni and throngs of people,
dancing, singing, harping, fiddling--all so merry, and as if the
open air and their own elastic spirits were happiness enough. I
suppose I shall never come again, for when I have measured back
the distance to my own foggy country, there I shall settle for
ever, and Naples and her sunny shores and balmy winds will only
be as a short and delightful dream, from which I have waked too
soon.




                            CHAPTER X.

Mola di Gaeta--Capua--Lines on leaving Naples--Return to Rome--
  The Aqueducts--'Domine, quo vadis?'--St. Peter's--The Scala
  Santa--Reasons in favour of San Gennaro--Ascent of St.
  Peter's--Library of the Vatican--A racing _ex voto_--Illness of
  George IV.--Approaching _Coup d'état_ in France--The Villa
  Mills--The Malaria--Duc and Duchesse de Dalberg--The Emperor
  Nicholas on his Accession--Cardinal Albani--A _Columbarium_--
  Maii--Sir William Gell--Tivoli--Hadrian's Villa--The Adventures
  of Miss Kelly and Mr. Swift--Audience of the Pope--Gibson's
  Studio--End of Miss Kelly's Marriage--A great Function--The
  Jesuits--Saint-making--San Lorenzo in Lucina--The Flagellants--
  Statues by Torchlight--Bunsen on the State of Rome--Fiascati--
  Relations of Protestant States with Rome--The French Ministry--
  M. de Villèle--The Coliseum--Excommunication of a Thief--The
  Passionists--The Corpus Domini--A Rash Marriage--Farewell to
  Rome--Falls of Terni--Statue at Pratolino--Bologna--
  Mezzofanti--Ferrara--Venice--Padua--Vicenza--Brescia--Verona--
  Milan--Lago Maggiore--The Simplon--Geneva--Paris.


Mola di Gaeta, May 9th, 1830 {p.359}

I have dined here on an open terrace (looking over the garden and
the delicious Bay), where I have been sitting writing the whole
evening. The moon is just rising, and throwing a flood of silver
over the sea--

                          Rising in cloudless majesty,
           Apparent queen, unveiled her peerless light
           And o'er the dark her silver mantle threw.

We left Naples at half-past seven in the morning, went to
Caserta, and walked over the palace, in which nothing struck me
but the dimensions, the staircase, and a few of the rooms. The
theatre is very well contrived; it is at one end of the palace,
and the back of it opens by large folding doors into the garden,
so that they can have any depth of stage they please, and arrange
any pageants or cavalcades. This could, however, only be at a
theatre in a country house. Thence to Capua, and went over the
Amphitheatre, which is very remarkable. It is said to be larger
than the Coliseum, but the arena did not appear to me so vast.
Here we are in the land of names again, and it is impossible for
the imagination not to run over the grandeur, luxury, and fate of
Capua, for on the very spot on which I was standing (for the
chief places are ascertained) in all probability Hannibal often
sat to see the games.[1]

      [1] No such thing. _His_ Capua was nearly destroyed, and if
          it had an amphitheatre it would have been ruined. These
          ruins must have belonged to Capua the Second, which was
          restored by Augustus or Tiberius, and became as
          flourishing and populous as the first had been.--
          [C.C.G.]

The Italian postilions, it must be owned, are a comical set. They
sometimes go faster than ever I went in England, then at others
they creep like snails, and stop at the least inclined plane to
put on the _scarpa_. The occasions they generally select for
going fast are when they have six horses harnessed to the
carriage, and so extend about ten yards, on slippery pavement,
through very narrow streets, extremely crowded with women and
children; then they will flog their horses to full speed, and
clatter along without fear or shame. Nothing happens; I have
remarked that nothing ever does anywhere in Italy.

I have walked over this garden [at Gaeta], which contains remains
of one of Cicero's villas, but they are only arched rooms like
vaults, and not worth seeing but for the name of Cicero, and the
recollection that he was murdered almost on this spot. He had
good taste in his villas, for this bay is as placid and delicious
as that of Baiae. There is an ancient bath, which probably
belonged to the villa; it is in the sea, and still available,
when cleaned out, which just now it is not.


[Page Head: LINES ON LEAVING NAPLES]

Rome, May 10th, 1830 {p.360}

Left Mola at half-past seven and got here at ten minutes after
seven. It was so kind as to rain last night and this morning, and
lay the dust all the way. Stopped at Terracina, and went to see
the ancient port, which is worth seeing. The road is pretty all
the way, but the scenery in Italy wants verdure and foliage. The
beauty of these landscapes consists in the bold outlines, lofty
mountains, abundant vegetation, and bright atmosphere, and they
are always better to look at from a little distance than very
near. Aricia is pretty well wooded. I found a parcel of letters
with the London news; but the post is enough to drive one mad,
for I got one of the 23rd of April and another of the 19th of
March on the same day.

                   _ON TAKING LEAVE OF NAPLES._
    (Written in a carriage between Naples and Mola di Gaeta.)
                       '_Nascitur poeta._'

       Though not a spark of true poetic fire
         Beamed at my birth, or on my cradle fell,
       Though rude my numbers, and untuned my lyre,
         I will not leave thee with a mute farewell.

       I cannot see recede thy sunny shore,
         Nor ling'ring look my last upon thy bay,
       And know that they will meet my gaze no more,
         Yet tearless take my unreturning way.

       'Tis not that Love laments his broken toys,
         Nor is it Friendship murmurs to depart,
       Touching the chords of recollected joys
         Which ring with sad vibration on the heart.

       Nor bound am I in Habit's unfelt chain,
         Which o'er the fancy steals with gradual pow'r,
       Till local sympathy awakes in pain,
         That slept unconscious till the parting hour.

       But 'tis the charm, so great, yet undefin'd,
         That Nature's self around fair Naples throws,
       Which now excites and elevates the mind,
         And now invites it to no dull repose.

       No exhalations damp the spirits choke,
         That feed on ether temp'rate and serene;
       No yellow fogs, or murky clouds of smoke,
         Obscure the lustre of this joyous scene.

       The God of Gladness with prolific ray
         Bids the rich soil its teeming womb expand,
       While healthful breezes, cooled with Ocean's spray,
         Scatter a dewy freshness o'er the land.

       No mountain billow's huge uplifted crest
         Lashes the foaming beach with sullen roar;
       The smooth sea sparkles in unbroken rest,
         Or lightly rakes upon the pebbled shore.

       The Ocean's Monarch on these golden sands
         Seems the luxurious laws of Love to own,[2]
       And yield his trident to Thalassia's hands,
         To rule the waters from the Baian throne.

       Here the green olive, and the purple vine,
         The lofty poplar and the elm espouse,
       Or round the mulberry their tendrils twine,
         Or creep in clusters through the ilex boughs.

       A thousand flow'rs, enamelling the fields,
         Declare the presence of returning spring;
       A various harvest smiling Ceres yields,
         And all the groves with vocal music sing.

       Earth, air, and sea th' enchantment of the clime,
         Revived that young elation of the breast
       When Hope, undaunted, saw the form of Time
         In Fancy's gay, deluding colours drest,

       And though those visions are for ever fled
         Which in the morning of existence rose,
       And all the false and flatt'ring hopes are dead
         That vainly promised a serener close.

       I'll snatch the joys which spite of fate remain
         To cheer life's darkness with a transient ray,
       And oft in vivid fancy roam again
         Through these blest regions when I'm far away.

      [2] The Temple of Venus stands upon the shore of the Bay of
          Baiae.


[Page Head: THE AQUEDUCTS]

Rome, May 13th, 1830 {p.362}

_11th._--Walked about visiting to announce my return, and found
nobody at home. Hired a horse and rode with Lovaine till near
eight o'clock; rode by the Via Sacra two or three miles along the
Street of Tombs--very interesting and curious--and then cut
across to the ruin of an old villa, where an apartment floored
with marble has lately been discovered, evidently a bath, and a
very large one; on to Torlonia's _scavo_ and under the arches of
the Claudian aqueduct. Nothing at Rome delights and astonishes
me more than the aqueducts, the way they stretch over the
Campagna--[3]

            As some earth-born giants spread
            Their mighty arms along th' indented mead.

And when you approach them how admirable are their vastness and
solidity--each arch in itself a fabric, and the whole so
venerable and beautiful. After all my delight at Naples I
infinitely prefer Rome; there is a tranquil magnificence and
repose about Rome, and an indefinable pleasure in the atmosphere,
the colouring, and the ruins, which are better felt than
described. We lingered about the aqueducts till dark, but there
is hardly any twilight here; the sun sets, and in half an hour it
is night. Almost everybody is gone or going, but the heat can't
have driven them away, for it is perfectly cool.

     [3] The Claudian aqueduct, which is the grandest, and whose
          enormous remains form the great ornament of the
          Campagna, was begun by Caligula, and finished by
          Claudius. The structure of the arches is exactly like
          those of the Coliseum. The first aqueduct was built by
          Appius Caecus, the censor, the same who laid down the
          Via Appia, 310 B.C.

As we set out on our ride we passed a little church called
'Domine, quo vadis?' which was built on this occasion:--St. Peter
was escaping from Rome (he was a great coward, that Princeps
Apostolorum), and at this spot he met Christ, and said to him,
'Domine, quo vadis?' 'Why,' replied our Saviour, 'I am going to
be crucified over again, for you are running away, and won't stay
to do my business here;' on which St. Peter returned to suffer in
his own person, and the church was built in commemoration of the
event. The Saint has no reason to be flattered at the character
which is given of him by the pious editors of his Epistles.
'Confidence and zeal form a conspicuous part of his character,
but he was sometimes deficient in firmness and resolution. He had
the faith to walk upon the water, but when the sea grew
boisterous his faith deserted him and he became afraid. He was
forward to acknowledge Jesus to be the Messiah, and declared
himself ready to die in that profession, and yet soon after he
thrice denied, and with oaths, that he knew anything of Jesus.
The warmth of his temper led him to cut off the ear of the High
Priest's servant, and by his timidity and dissimulation
respecting the Gentile converts at Antioch he incurred the
censure of the eager and resolute St. Paul.'

[Page Head: MODERN MIRACLES]

We returned through the Porta di San Giovanni, and by the Scala
Santa. There are three flights of steps; those in the middle are
covered with wood (that the marble may not be worn out), and
these are the holy steps; the other two are for the pious to walk
down. I had no idea anybody ever went up on their knees, though I
was aware they were not allowed to go up on their feet, and with
no small surprise saw several devout females in the performance
of this ceremony. They walk up the vestibule, drop upon their
knees, rise and walk over the landing-place, carefully tuck up
their gowns, drop again, and then up they toil in the most absurd
and ridiculous postures imaginable.

          Weak in their limbs, but in devotion strong,
          On their bare hands and feet they crawl along.
                                                DRYDEN, _Juv._ 6.

I suppose there is some spiritual advantage derivable from the
action, but I don't know what. Why, however, I should be
surprised I can't tell, after all I have seen here. Madame de
Dalberg came to my recollection, and San Gennaro; she had owned
to me that she believed in the miracle, and we had a long dispute
about it, though I have since thought that I am wrong to regard
her credulity with such pity and contempt. The case admits of an
argument, though not that which she made use of. Many people are
right in what they do, but without knowing why; some wrong, with
very fair reasons. She, however, is wrong both ways, but she had
been brought up in principles of strong religious belief, and she
belongs to a church which teaches that miracles have never ceased
from the days of the Apostles till now. Those who believe that a
miracle ever was performed cannot doubt that another _may_ be
performed now; the only question is as to the fact. _We_ believe
that miracles ceased with the Apostles, and we pronounce all that
are alleged to have happened since to be fictitious. Believing as
she does that miracles have continually occurred, it is more
reasonable to believe in the reality of one she sees herself than
in those which are reported by others. She sees this done; it is,
then, a miracle or it is an imposture; but it is declared to be a
miracle by a whole body of men, who must know whether it be so or
not, and to whom she has been accustomed to look up with respect
and confidence, and who have always been deemed worthy of belief.
What is it, then, she believes? The evidence of her own senses,
and the testimony of a number of men, and a succession of them,
who are competent witnesses, and whose characters are for the
most part unblemished, in her opinion certainly. The objection
that it is improbable, and that no sufficient reason is assigned
for its performance, is quite inadmissible, as all considerations
of reason are in matters of revelation.

    And when the event only is revealed, it is not for men to
    dogmatise about the mode or means of its accomplishment,
    for God's ways are not as our ways, nor His thoughts as
    our thoughts, and His purposes may be wrought out in a
    manner that we wot not.--KEITH.

There is nothing of which we are so continually reminded as that
we must not pretend to judge of the reasonableness and fitness of
the Divine dispensations, and there may therefore be good cause
for the San Gennaro affair, though we cannot fathom it. Still, as
the generality of people of education have given it up, one
wonders at the orthodox few whose belief lingers on. There are
other bloods that liquefy in various places besides San
Gennaro's.

_12th._--Walked to Santa Agnese, in the Piazza Navona, a pretty
church, but hardly anybody in it; to Santa Maria sopra Minerva,
empty likewise, but Michael Angelo's Christ was there--a grand
performance, though defective about the legs, which are too
thick; he has one golden foot for the devotees, who were wearing
out the marble toe, and would soon have had it as smooth as that
of Jupiter's in St. Peter's; _ci-devant_ Jupiter, now St. Peter.

I went again to the Pantheon, and walked round and round, and
looked, and admired; even the ragged wretches who came in seemed
struck with admiration. It is so fine to see the clouds rolling
above through the roof; it passes my comprehension how this
temple escaped the general wreck of Rome. Then to St. Peter's,
and went up to the roof and to the ball, through the aperture of
which I could just squeeze, though there is plenty of room when
once in it. The ball holds above thirty people, stuffed close of
course. Three other men were going up at the same time, who
filled the narrow ascent with garlicky effluvia. It is impossible
to have an idea of the size and grandeur of St. Peter's without
going over the roof, and examining all the details, and looking
down from the galleries. The ascent is very easy; there are
slabs at the bottom taken from the holy gates, as they were
successively opened and closed by the different Popes at the
Jubilees.[4] At the top were recorded the ascents of various
kings and princes and princesses, who had clambered up; there was
also an inscription in Latin and Italian, the very counterpart of
that which is still seen on the wall in Titus's Baths, only
instead of 'Jovem omnipotentem atque omnes Deos iratos habeat,'
&c. &c., it runs, 'Iratos habeat Deum omnipotentem et Apostolos
Petrum et Paulum,' though I don't see why Paul should care about
it. Went afterwards and walked on the Pincian.

      [4] The Jubilee was established by Boniface VIII. in 1300,
          and was originally a centenary commemoration, but
          reduced to fifty years, and afterwards to twenty-five,
          as it still continues. Hallam remarks that the Court of
          Rome at the next Jubilee will read with a sigh the
          description of that of 1300. 'The Pope received an
          incalculable sum of money, for two priests stood day
          and night at the altar of St. Peter, with rakes in
          their hands, raking up the heaps of money.'--MURATORI.

This morning went with the Lovaines and Monsignore Spada to see
the library of the Vatican, which was to have been shown us by
Monsignore Maii, the librarian, but he was engaged elsewhere and
did not come. These galleries are most beautiful, vast, and
magnificent, and the painting of the old part interesting and
curious, but that which was done by Pius VI. and Pius VII. has
deformed the walls with such trash as I never beheld; they
present various scenes of the misfortunes of these two Popes, and
certain passages in their lives. The principal manuscripts we saw
were a history of Federigo di Felto, Duke of Urbino, and nephew
of Julius II., beautifully illuminated by Julio Clovio, a scholar
of Giulio Romano. I never saw anything more exquisite than these
paintings. Amongst the most curious of the literary treasures we
saw are a manuscript of some of St. Augustine's works, written
upon a palimpsest of Cicero's 'De Republicâ;' this treatise was
brought to light by Maii; the old Latin was as nearly erased as
possible, but by the application of gall it has been brought out
faintly, but enough to be made out, and completely read: Henry
VIII.'s love-letters to Anne Boleyn, in French and English:
Henry's reply to Luther, the presentation copy to the Pope
(Clement VII.), signed by him twice at the end, in English at the
end of the book, in Latin at the dedication, which is also
written by his own hand, only a line; the pictures representing
St. Peter's in different stages of the work are very curious. In
the print room there is a celestial globe painted by Julio
Romano.

[Page Head: A RACING VOW]

Just before I went to the Vatican I read in 'Galignani' the
agreeable intelligence that my mare Lady Emily had beat Clotilde
at Newmarket, which I attribute entirely to my _ex voto_ of a
silver horse-shoe, which I vowed, before I went to Naples, to the
Virgin of the Pantheon in case I won the match; and, as I am
resolved to be as good as my word, I have ordered the horse-shoe,
which is to be sent on Monday, and as soon as it arrives it shall
be suspended amongst all the arms, and legs, and broken gigs, and
heads, and silver hearts, and locks of hair.

Everybody here is in great alarm about the King (George IV.), who
I have no doubt is very ill. I am afraid he will die before I get
home, and I should like to be in at the death and see all the
proceedings of a new reign; but, now I am here, I must stay out
my time, let what will happen. I shall probably never see Rome
again, and 'according to the law of probability, so true in
general, so false in particular,' I have a good chance of seeing
at least one more King leave us.


May 15th, 1830 {p.368}

I rode with Lord Haddington to the Villa Mellini last evening on
a confounded high-going old hunter of Lord Lynedoch's, which he
gave to William Russell. On my return found Henry de Ros just
arrived, having been stopped at Aquapendente and Viterbo for want
of a _lascia passare._

This morning I have been dragging him about the town till he was
half dead. The three last days have been the hottest to which
Rome is subject--not much sun, no wind, but an air like an oven.
The only cool place is St. Peter's, that is delicious. It is the
coolest place in summer and the warmest in winter. We went to St.
Peter's, Coliseum, gallery of the Vatican, Villa Albani, and
Villa Borghese. The Villa Albani I had not seen before; it is a
good specimen of a Roman villa, full of fine things (the finest
of which is the Antinous), but very ill kept up. The Cardinal has
not set his foot in it for a year and a half; there is one walk
of ilexes perfectly shady, but all the rest is exposed to the
sun. The post brought very bad accounts of the King, who is
certainly dying. I have no notion that he will live till I get
home, but they tell me there will be no changes. Gagarin told me
last night that Lieven is to be governor to the Emperor of
Russia's eldest son, that for the present he will retain the
title of Ambassador, and that Matuscewitz will be Chargé
d'Affaires in London.


[Page Head: APPROACHING COUP D'ETAT IN FRANCE]

May 18th, 1830 {p.368}

Again dragging Henry de Ros about, who likes to see sights, but
is not strong enough to undergo fatigue. Yesterday I called on M.
de la Ferronays, and had a long conversation about French
politics; he is greatly alarmed at the state of affairs in
France, and told me that he had said everything he could to the
King to dissuade him from changing his Ministry and trying a
_coup d'état_, that the King has always been in his heart averse
to a Constitution, and has now got it into his head that there is
a settled design to subvert the royal authority, in which idea he
is confirmed by those about him, 'son petit entourage.' He
anticipates nothing but disaster to the King and disorder in the
country from these violent measures, and says that France was
increasing in prosperity, averse to change, satisfied with its
Government and Constitution, and only desirous of certain
ameliorations in the internal administration of the country, and
of preserving inviolate the institutions it had obtained. He
thinks the success of the expedition to Algiers, if it should
succeed, will have no effect in strengthening the hands of
Polignac; says they committed a capital fault in the beginning by
proroguing the Chambers upon their making that violent Address in
answer to the Speech, that they should immediately have proceeded
to propose the enactment of those laws of which the country
stands in need, when if the Chamber had agreed to them the
Ministry would have appeared to have a majority, and would
thereby gain moral strength; and if they had been rejected, the
King would have had a fine opportunity of appealing to the
nation, and saying that as long as they had attacked him
personally he had passed it by, but as they opposed all those
ameliorations which the state of France required, his people
might judge between him and them, and that this would at least
have given him a chance of success and brought many moderate
people to his side. He added that he had also said the same thing
to Polignac, but without success, that he is totally ignorant of
France and will listen to nobody. I told him that Henry de Ros
had been at Lyons when the Dauphin came, and how ill he was
received by the townspeople and the troops, at which he did not
seem at all surprised, though sorry.

Went to Santa Maria in Trastevere to-day, the Farnese Palace, the
Farnesina and Spada, Portico d'Ottavia and Mausoleo d'Augusto;
this last not worth seeing at all. The last time I was at the
Spada I did not see the pictures, some of which are very good,
particularly a Judith by Guido, and a Dido by Guercino, which is
damaged, but beautiful. Then to Santa Maria Maggiore and St. John
Lateran, and a ride over the Campagna to the Claudian aqueduct
and Torlonia's _scavo_.


May 20th, 1830 {p.370}

I breakfasted with Mills at his villa on the Palatine; Madame de
Menon, Henry Cheney, Fox, and the Portuguese Charge d'Affaires;
very agreeable: his villa charming; it formerly belonged to
Julius II., and one room is painted in fresco by Raphael and his
scholars, as they say.

The Portuguese is Donna Maria's officer. The relations of the
Holy See with Portugal are rather anomalous, but sensible.
The Pope says he has nothing to do with politics, does not
acknowledge Don Miguel, but as he is _de facto_ ruler of
Portugal, he must for the good of the Church (whose interests are
not to be abandoned for any temporal considerations) transact
business with him, and so he does. This Envoy is very sanguine as
to the ultimate success of the Queen's cause.

Went to the Orti Farnesiani and to Livia's Baths, where there is
still some painting and gilding to be seen. Then to the Capitol;
saw the pictures and statues (again), and called on Bunsen, who
told me a colossal head of Commodus could not be Commodus (which
stands in the court of the Capitol); he won't allow anything is
anything. He is full of politics, and thinks the French will get
rid of their domestic difficulties by colonising Africa, and does
not see why they should not as well as the Romans; but he seems a
better antiquary than politician.

Some pictures in the Capitol are very fine--Domenichino's Sybil
and Santa Barbara, Guercino's Santa Petronella (copied in mosaic
in St. Peter's) and Cleopatra and Antony. There are several
unfinished Guidos, some only just begun. They say he played, and
when he lost and could not pay, painted a picture; so these are
the produce of bad nights, and their progress perhaps arrested by
better.

To the Borghese Villa. At present I think Chiswick better than
any villa here, but they tell me when I get home and see Chiswick
and remember these I shall think differently.


[Page Head: MALARIA]

May 22nd, 1830

Found it absolutely necessary to adopt Roman customs and dine
early and go out after dinner; one must dine at four or at nine.
Went to Raphael's house, which is painted by his scholars, and
one room by himself; a very pretty villa, uninhabited, and
belongs to an old man and an old woman, who will neither live in
it nor let it. Though close to the Villa Borghese, which is
occupied by the malaria, this villa is quite free from it. The
malaria is inexplicable. If it was 'palpable to sight as to
feeling,' it would be like a fog which reaches so far and no
farther. Here are ague and salubrity, cheek by jowl. To the
Pamfili Doria, a bad house with a magnificent view all round
Rome; fine garden in the regular clipped style, but very shady,
and the stone pines the finest here; this garden is well kept.
Malaria again; Rome is blockaded by malaria, and some day will
surrender to it altogether; as it is, it is melancholy to see all
these deserted villas and palaces, scarcely one of which is
inhabited or decently kept. I don't know one palace or villa
which is lived in as we should live in England; the Borghese
Villa is the only one which is really well kept, but Prince
Borghese has £70,000 a year; he lives at Florence and never comes
here, but keeps collecting and filling his villa. The other
morning the ground here was in many parts covered by a thin red
powder, which was known to come from an eruption, and everybody
thought it was Vesuvius, and so travellers reported, but it turns
out to be from Etna or Stromboli. Naples was covered with it, and
the sun obscured, but it is much nearer. Rome must be 300 or 400
miles from Etna.


May 23rd, 1830 {p.371}

Went to three churches--Nuova, San Giovanni del Fiorentini, San
Agostino; in this latter is Raphael's fresco of the prophet
Isaiah, in the style of M. Angelo, but it did not particularly
strike me. There is a remarkable Madonna here, a great favourite;
her shrine is quite illuminated with lamps and candles, and
adorned with offerings which cover the columns on each side of
the church. Numerous devotees were kissing her gilt foot, and the
Virgin and Child were decked with earrings, bracelets, and jewels
and gold in every shape; the Child, which is of a tawny marble,
looked like some favourite little 'nigger,' so bedizened was he
with finery. She is a much more popular Madonna than my friend of
the Pantheon, to whom I went, as in honour bound, and hung up my
horse-shoe by a purple riband (my racing colour) round one of the
candlesticks on the altar, with this inscription--C.C.G.,
P.G.R.N. A.27, 1830.[5]

      [5] [These letters appear to stand for the following votive
          inscription: 'Charles Cavendish Greville. _Pro gratias
          receptas nuper._ April 27, 1830.']

Took H. de Ros to see the Cenci and the skeleton friars, not
exactly birds of a feather; was obliged to squabble with the monk
to get a sight of my old friends the skeletons, who at last let
us in, but would not take any money, which I thought monks never
refused, but my _laquais de place_ said, 'Lo conosco bene, c'è
molto superbo.' Rode along the Via Appia and to Maxentius's
Circus.


[Page Head: ACCESSION OF THE EMPEROR NICHOLAS]

May 24th, 1830 {p.372}

Called on Sir William Gell at his eggshell of a house and pretty
garden, which he planted himself ten years ago, and calls it the
Boschetto Gellio. He was very agreeable, with stories of Pompeii,
old walls, and ruined cities, besides having a great deal to say
on living objects and passing events.

Dined with M. de la Ferronays--a great party--and was desired to
hand out Madame la Comtesse de Maistre, wife to the Comte Xavier
de Maistre, author of the 'Voyage autour de ma Chambre' and
'Le Lépreux,' to which works I gave a prodigious number of
compliments. The Dalbergs and Aldobrandinis dined there, and some
French whom I did not know. The Duc de Dalberg and his wife are a
perpetual source of amusement to me, she with her devotion and
believing everything, he with his air _moqueur_ and believing
nothing; she so merry, he so shrewd, and so they squabble
about religion. 'Qui est cet homme?' I said to him when a
ludicrous-looking abbé, broader than he was long, came into the
room. 'Que sais-je? quelque magot.' 'Ah, je m'en vais dire cela à
la Duchesse.' 'Ah, mon cher, n'allez pas me brouiller avec ma
famille.'

He had been talking to me about La Ferronays the day before, and
said he was a sensible, right-headed man, 'mais diablement
russe;' and last night La Ferronays gave us an account of the
revolt of the Guards on the Emperor Nicholas's accession, of
which he had been a witness--of the Emperor's firmness and
his subsequent conversations with him, all which was very
interesting, and he recounted it with great energy. He said
that the day after the affair of the Guards all the _Corps
Diplomatique_ had gone to him, that he had addressed them in an
admirable discourse and with a firm and placid countenance. He
told them that they had witnessed what had passed, and he had no
doubt would give a faithful relation of it to their several
Courts; that on dismissing them, he had taken him (La Ferronays)
into his closet, when he burst into tears and said, 'You have
just seen me act the part of Emperor; you must now witness the
feelings of the man. I speak to you as to my best friend, from
whom I conceal nothing.' He went on to say that he was the most
miserable of men, forced upon a throne which he had no desire to
mount, having been no party to the abdication of his brother, and
placed in the beginning of his reign in a position the most
painful, irksome, and difficult; but that though he had never
sought this elevation, now that he had taken it on himself he
would maintain and defend it. When La Ferronays had done,
'L'entendez-vous?' said Dalberg. 'Comme il parle avec goût; cela
lui est personnel. L'Empereur ne lui a pas dit la moitié de tout
cela.'

La Ferronays introduced me to Cardinal Albani, telling him I had
brought him a letter from Madame Craufurd, which I did, and left
it when I was here before. He thought I was just come, and asked
for the letter, which I told his Eminence he had already
received. He had, however, forgotten all about me, my letter, and
old Craaf. We had a long conversation about the Catholic
question, the Duke's duel with Lord Winchelsea (which he had
evidently never heard of), the King's illness, &c. He is like a
very ancient red-legged macaw, but I suppose he is a dandy among
the cardinals, for he wears two stars and two watches. I asked
him to procure me an audience of the Pope, which he promised to
do. Escaped at last from the furnace his room was, and went to
air in the streets; came home early and went to bed. This morning
got up at half-past six, and went to look out for some _columbaria_
I had heard of out of the Porta Pia, and near Santa Agnese. The
drones at Santa Agnese knew nothing about them, but I met La
Ferronays riding as I was returning in despair, and he showed me
the way to them. They have been discovered about six years, and
are in a garden. The excavation may be fifteen feet by about
eight or nine, more or less, and is full of broken urns and
inscriptions, some of which are very good indeed. One is upon C.
Cargilius Pedagogus:--

      Vixi quandiu potui, sine lite, sine rixâ,
      Sine contentione, sine aere alieno, amicis fidem
      Bonam praestiti, peculio pauper, animo divitissimus,
      Benè valeat is qui hoc titulum perlegit meum.

Another--

      Lucius Virius Sancius aet. xxiii.
      Quod tu mî debebas facere, ego tibi facio, mater pia.

The same idea as in Canning's verses on his son:--

      Whilst I, reversed our nature's kindlier doom,
      Pour forth a father's sorrows o'er his tomb.

And Evander on Pellas:--

      Contra ego vivendo vici mea fata superstes
      Restarem ut genitor.

As I came back I looked into San Bernardo, Santa Maria della
Vittoria, and Santa Susanna, and I stopped to look at the 'Moses
striking the Rock,' which is certainly very fine, though there is
too much of Moses and not enough of rock or water. After
breakfast to the Vatican library, where the Duc de Dalberg had
engaged the Abbé Maii to meet him, and he showed us all the
manuscripts, most of which I had already seen. He is very
laborious as well as learned. Maii is said to undertake too much,
and to leave a great deal half examined, and therefore unknown;
but somebody (I forget who) is at daggers drawn with him, so it
may be the accusation of a literary enemy. Went about with the
Dalbergs to several places, to all of which I had been before. At
every church the Duchess and her daughter dropped on their knees
and sprinkled themselves with holy water, and prayed and
curtsied, but nothing could get him down upon his marrow bones.


May 25th, 1830 {p.375}

Breakfasted with Gell in his Boschetto Gellio under a treillage
of vines, and surrounded by fruits and flowers. He was very
agreeable, and told us a great many anecdotes of the Queen and
her trial. We are just setting off for Tivoli.


[Page Head: TIVOLI]

May 27th, 1830 {p.375}

Went to Tivoli. The journey hotter than flames over the Campagna.
It is the most beastly town I ever saw, more like the Ghetto here
than any other place, full of beggars and children. The inn very
moderate, but Henry and I got a very good appartment, looking
over the country, in a private house. We all dined together.

---- is the merriest of saints, the jolliest of devotees, and
very unlike the ghost in 'Don Juan,' who says, 'Che si pasce di
cibo celeste non si pasce di cibo mortale,' for though rigorously
obedient to the prescribed fasts of the Church, she devours flesh
enough on other days to suffice for those on which it is
forbidden; and on the meagre days she indemnifies herself by any
quantity of fish, vegetables, and _sucreries_ of all kinds. It is
only like eating her first course on Thursday and her second on
Friday.

After dinner we sent for the most famous guide, with the
magnificent name of Pietro Stupendo, called 'Stupendous' from his
frequent use of that adjective in pointing out the views. His
real name is Barbarossa, which is nearly as fine. We went to see
the sun set from the Villa d'Este a very fine villa, with clipped
trees, waterworks, and all the usual beauties of Italian villas.
It belongs to the Duke of Modena, is uninhabited, and falling to
decay for want of care and attention. Thence to the Temple of the
Sybil or Vesta [6] (for it goes by both names), which is very
airy and graceful, and perched on the point of a rock, but its
effect spoiled by being embedded in dirty, ugly houses. The fall
below was made by Bernini, and is very pretty, but not grand, and
it looks rather artificial. We saw it from what is called the
Grotto of Neptune. At night I returned again, but nobody else
would stir out. I went down to the fall, and had bundles of hay
lit on the rock above, and some blue lights called _lumi di
Bengala_, a sort of firework, put in the temple, and the effect
was beautiful. The reflected light upon the cascade, and the
light and shade upon the rocks, and the temple made visible
through the darkness by the soft blue flame, without any of the
background of buildings appearing, were very fine, and in the
obscurity it seemed much more extensive and natural. I saw this
first from the Grotto of Neptune, and then from the opposite
height.

      [6] I believe it to be the Sybil's Temple. There is a
          frightful square building close to it they call the
          Sybil's Temple, but I do not see by what authority.
          Nibby says it is Vesta, but everybody else says the
          Sybil.-- FORSYTH, CRAMER, &c.

[Page Head: TIVOLI]

Yesterday morning we were to have started on the _giro_ of Tivoli
at six, but as women are never ready, and a good deal of eating
and drinking was to be gone through before we got under weigh, we
were not off till near eight. The consequence was that we got
into the heat, and lost the colouring of the early morning, and
those lights and shades on which great part of the beauty of this
scenery depends. I was altogether disappointed; the hills are
either quite bare or covered with olives, the most tiresome of
trees; the falls are all artificial, and though the view at the
foot of the largest (or as near as you can approach it) is
beautiful, on the whole no part of the scenery answered my
expectations. The water falls in eleven separate cascades (above
and below), and sinking into the gulf appears to boil up again in
clouds of spray, but the artificial channel above is distinctly
visible. There is an ancient bridge over the Anio and part of a
road up to Tivoli in wonderful preservation. Our party pleased
their imaginations by thinking that Augustus and Mecaenas had
probably gone cheek by jowl over the road and bridge, but
Stupendous told me it was built by Valerian, A.D. 253, though he
had no notion who Valerian was, except that he was an Emperor.
There are some curious remains of Mecaenas's Villa, particularly
the places (if they are really so) where the slaves were kept,
which are just like cellars. I cannot remember seeing any
apartments destined for slaves at Pompeii, but from all one sees
or hears and reads of the Roman slaves, they must have been
treated in a manner that it is inconceivable they should have
endured, considering their numbers, and of what they were
generally composed--barbarian prisoners or free citizens reduced
to servitude. We ended the _giro_ at the Villa d'Este, and
breakfasted on the terrace; the rest of the party then retired to
sleep and play at cards at the inn, and I started with Stupendous
to see the remains of an ancient city, and some specimens of
Cyclopean walls, about four or five miles off. The first place is
called Ventidius Bassa's, because that gentleman had a villa
there, built on the ruins of a little Cyclopean town, where there
are still some walls standing. From thence to Mitriano, which
must have been a large town, the vestiges still covering several
hills, and the remains of walls being very large; there is
nothing left but a few broken fluted columns, and one flat marble
stone perfect, with an inscription. This jaunt was hardly worth
the trouble.

When I came back from Mitriano, I went down to the Grotto of the
Syrens, from whence the view of the cascade is much finer than
from the other grotto, and really grand; but the path is very
slippery from the clouds of spray constantly falling over it. I
did not go quite to the grotto, for Stupendous told me he had
nearly slipped down the rock and cracked his crown; so I declined
running that risk, but saw just as well, for I went nearly to the
bottom.

At half-past four we went to Adrian's Villa, with which I was as
much delighted as I was disappointed with Tivoli. Nothing can be
more picturesque than the ruins, and nothing gives such an idea
of the grandeur of the ancient masters of the world. They are six
miles in circumference, and the remains are considerable, though
not very distinct, but it is very easy to perceive that they are
the ruins of a villa, or a collection of ornamental and luxurious
buildings, and not of a town, which from their size they might
be. Almost all the ruins of antiquity that adorn Rome were found
here, or in Caracalla's Baths, which latter were supplied from
this stock--all the Albani collection, most of the Museo
Borbonico at Naples, and half the Vatican. The Albani collection
was made by a nephew of Clement XI., the Albani Pope. They say
only one-fourth has been excavated. The ruins are overgrown with
ivy and all sorts of creepers. The grounds are full of pines and
cypresses of great size, and it is altogether one of the most
interesting and beautiful spots I have seen in Italy. The Villa
Adriani now belongs to Duke Braschi, nephew of Pius VI. He has
not excavated, but the truth is that there is little temptation
to individuals to do so. The Government have taken all the ruins
under their protection, and no proprietor is allowed to destroy
any part of them. So far so good, but if he digs and finds
anything, he may not sell it; the Government reserves to itself a
right of pre-emption, and should he be offered a large sum by any
foreigner for any object he may find, he is not allowed to take
it, although the Government may not choose to buy it at the same
price. They will fix a fair, but not a fancy price, but the
vendor is often obliged, when they do buy it, to wait many years
for his money. Albani employed 1,000 men to excavate.

We came back in a deliciously cool evening. The Duchess wanted us
to keep with her carriage (she had a pair and we had four
horses), for fear she should be robbed--for she had heard that
somebody had been robbed somewhere a little while ago--which we
promised; but our postilions set off in a gallop, we fell asleep,
and they were left to their fate.

[Page Head: MISS KELLY'S ADVENTURE]

_At night._--This morning as I was sitting at Torlonia's reading
the newspapers, a woman came in, whom Luigi Chiaveri soon after
begged to introduce to me. She was a Mrs. Kelly, of whose history
I had already heard, and I told Chiaveri I would assist her if I
could. She told me her case in detail. The short of it is this:--
She and her daughter (who is very pretty) got acquainted at
Florence with a family of Swifts. Young Swift seeing the girl was
good-looking, and hearing she was rich, made up to her, gained
her affections (as they call it), and proposed to marry her. She
agreed, provided her mother did. They came to Rome. Swift
followed, established himself at the same inn, and wrote to the
mother to propose himself. The mother declined. He wrote a second
letter--same reply. He then prevailed on the girl to promise not
to give him up, but failed in persuading her to elope with him.
She said she would marry him when she was of age. He pressed her
to give him a written promise to this effect before witnesses.
After some hesitation she agreed, and one evening (having been
previously appointed by him) she met him in another room, where
she found a priest and two men. She signed two papers without
reading them, heard a short form muttered over, which she did not
understand, and then was told to run downstairs again. A few days
after she got uneasy as to what had happened, and confessed it
all to her mother, who immediately conceived that this was a
marriage ceremony into which she had been inveigled. She told her
lover what she had done, who asked her what her mother had said.
She told him that her mother fancied that it was a marriage, but
that she had told her it was not, when he informed her it was,
and this was the first intimation he gave her of the sort, and
the first time he had given her to understand that he regarded
her as his wife. She reproached him with his duplicity and the
imposition he had practised on her, and told him she would have
no more to say to him. This took place in St. Peter's one Friday
at vespers. Soon after they went to Naples, where Swift followed,
and wrote to her mother saying he had married her daughter, and
asking her forgiveness; that she might fancy the marriage was not
valid, but she would find it was, having been celebrated by an
abbé, witnessed by the nephew of a cardinal, and the certificate
signed by a cardinal, with the knowledge of the Pope. She sent no
answer, when he begged an interview, which she granted, and then
he told her that he was a Catholic, and that her daughter had
become so too, and had signed an act of abjuration of the
Protestant religion. The mother and daughter, however, declined
having anything to do with him, and the latter declared that she
had never changed her religion at all. He then claimed her as his
wife, and tried to prevail on Hill and Lushington (Sir Henry
Lushington, Consul--the present Lord Berwick, Minister) to
prevent their leaving Naples. They declined to interfere, and
advised the mother to go home, and let the matter be settled
between them in England. She took the hint and set off. He
followed, and overtook them at Rome, and there, by representations
to the civil and religious authorities that they were taking away
his wife to prevent her being a Catholic, and make her relapse to
the Protestant faith, he got them to interfere, and their
passports were refused. Such is their story. They have nobody to
advise, assist, or protect them.

[Page Head: MISS KELLY'S ADVENTURE]

I went to La Ferronays, who was all good-nature, and said he
would go with me to Cardinal Albani; but I went first to the
hotel and saw the girl alone, who corroborated all her mother had
said. I wrote down her evidence, and made her sign it, and then
went with the Ambassador to the Cardinal in the Quirinal Palace.
The door of his cabinet was locked, but after a sort of _abbé
suisse_ had knocked a little he came and opened it, and in we
went. He did not recollect my name the last time I saw him, nor
my person this. La Ferronays explained the business, with which
he was already acquainted, partly through Kestner (the Hanoverian
Minister) and partly through the Roman authorities, who had given
him the case of the adventurer, for such he seems to be. The
Cardinal seemed disposed to do nothing (Bunsen assures me he is a
very sensible man, and right-headed and well disposed), and said
she was married. We said, not at all. Then he hummed and hawed,
and stammered and slobbered, and talked of the 'case being in the
hands of the Saint Office [the Inquisition!!] under the eyes of
his Holiness. What could he do?' We fired off a tirade against
the infamy of the action, said that the English tribunals ought
to decide upon the validity of the marriage, that all they wanted
was to go home, that the man might follow and make his claim good
if he could, and that the story (if they were detained here)
would make a noise in England, and would be echoed back to France
by the press of both countries, and that it was very desirable to
avoid such a scandal. He seemed struck with this, and said it
would be best to send them off to settle their disputes at home,
but that they must have patience, that time was necessary and the
case must be examined. We were obliged to be contented with this,
and saying we were sure the case was in good hands (which I
doubt, for he would leave it there if he dared), with many
scrapes and compliments we took our leave. The girl has never
dared to show her face, for fear of being carried off by the
lover or shut up in a convent by the Grand Inquisitor, so I
tranquillised their minds and sent them out an airing. In the
evening I spoke to Monsignore Spada, who has promised to help to
get up a case in Italian, if it should be wanted.

Dined with M. de la Ferronays, and went to his villa (Mattei)
afterwards. He has been perfect in this affair, full of
prompt kindness; but what a Government! how imbecile, how
superannuated!--a Minister of ninety almost, a sovereign of whom
all that can be said is that he is a great canonist, and all that
little bubbling and boiling of priestery and monkery, which is at
once odious, mischievous, and contemptible, a sort of extinct
volcano, all the stink of the sulphur without any of the
splendour of the eruption. They want the French again sadly.
English subjects detained by the Inquisition in 1830!! La
Ferronays advised me to ask the Pope for a moment of audience,
and to request him to see the girl himself, and interrogate her,
and learn the truth, of the case.

I had just done writing the above when a note came from La
Ferronays with the passports for the Kellys, which Albani had
sent him, so I had only to thank the Cardinal instead of
mentioning it to the Pope. I did not think he would have been so
quick. How enchanted they will be to-morrow morning!


[Page Head: MISS KELLY'S ADVENTURE]

May 29th, 1830 {p.382}

At ten Kestner called for Lovaine and me, and we went to the
Pope.[7] His Court is by no means despicable. A splendid suite of
apartments at the Quirinal with a very decent attendance of Swiss
Guards, Guardie Nobili, Chamberlains--generally ecclesiastics--
dressed in purple, valets in red from top to toe, of Spanish cut,
and in the midst of all a barefooted Capuchin. After waiting a
few minutes, we were introduced to the presence of the Pope by
the Chamberlain, who knelt as he showed us in. The Pope was alone
at the end of a very long and handsome apartment, sitting under a
canopy of state in an arm-chair, with a table before him covered
with books and papers, a crucifix, and a snuff-box. He received
us most graciously, half rising and extending his hand, which we
all kissed. His dress was white silk, and very dirty, a white
silk skullcap, red silk shoes with an embroidered cross, which
the faithful kiss. He is a very nice, squinting old twaddle, and
we liked him. He asked us if we spoke Italian, and when we
modestly answered, a little, he began in the most desperately
unintelligible French I ever heard; so that, though no doubt he
said many excellent things, it was nearly impossible to
comprehend any of them; but he talked with interest of our King's
health, of the antiquities, and Vescovali, of Lucien Buonaparte
and his extortion (for his curiosities), said when he was
Cardinal he used to go often to Vescovali. He is, in fact, a
connoisseur. Talked of quieting religious dissensions in England
and the Catholic question; and when I said, 'Très-Saint Père, le
Roi mon maître n'a pas de meilleurs sujets que ses sujets
catholiques,' his eyes whirled round in their sockets like
teetotums, and he grinned from ear to ear. After about a quarter
of an hour he bade us farewell: we kissed his hand and backed out
again. We then went to the Cardinal, whom I thanked warmly for
his prompt attention to my request in having given the passports
to _my protégées_. It is the etiquette in the Court of the
Quirinal for the servants to descend from behind the carriage,
and the horses to go a foot pace.

      [7] [The Pope was Pius VIII. (Francisco Xavierio
          Castiglioni), whose reign was a very short one, for he
          succeeded Leo XII. in March 1829, and was succeeded by
          Gregory XVI. in December, 1830.]

After this audience I took the passport to the Kellys. The mother
was in bed, but the girl came to me in a transport of gratitude
and joy. They went off in the evening to Florence. La Ferronays
advised me to send them off directly, for fear the priests should
begin to stir in the matter and raise fresh obstacles.

In the afternoon went to Gibson's, the sculptor. He is very
simple and intelligent, and appears to be devoted to his art.
There is a magnificent Venus, composed from various models, like
Zeuxis's statue of Juno at Crotona.

          Quando Zeusi l'immagine far volse
          Che par dovea nel tempio di Giunone,
          E tante belle nude insieme accolse,
          E per una farne in perfezione,
          Da chi, una parte, e da chi, un' altra tolse.


May 31st, 1830 {p.383}

Yesterday the advocate to whom I had advised Mrs. Kelly to go
came to me, and said he could not understand what she said, and
she had desired him to call on me. I told him the story, and he
said he would look into it and see what was to be done. I had
advised her before she went to consult an Italian lawyer as to
the necessary steps to be taken here in order to prove the
invalidity of the marriage in England. This man, whose name is
Dottore Belli, was recommended to me by Monsignore Spada as a
clever lawyer, and particularly good for the case, because
brother of one of the judges (or other officer) in the Vicar-General's
court. But I suppose he has less influence over the brother than
the brother over him, for this morning he sent me a very civil
but formal letter, saying 'the parties were married, and had
abjured after instruction received'--evidently a letter dictated
by the court or by his brother, or at all events by some
ecclesiastical interest. They evidently want to make the marriage
good to save their own credit, but there is a great mystery in
the whole affair. Cardinal Weld told La Ferronays that they had
not yet found the priest who had performed the ceremony. Bunsen
at my request undertook to enquire into the affair, but up to the
present moment (June 13th) he has only made the case more
confused and inexplicable.[8]

      [8] The conclusion of this affair is not less curious than
          its commencement. The parties returned to this country.
          Swift sued Miss Kelly in the Ecclesiastical Court for
          the restitution of conjugal rights. After much delay
          the case was elaborately argued before Sir John
          Nicholl, who at very great length pronounced judgment
          against the validity of the marriage. Swift appealed to
          the Judicial Committee of the Privy Council, when the
          sentence of the Court below was reversed, and the
          ceremony at Rome decided to be a good and binding
          marriage. The parties were thus irrevocably made man
          and wife, and after some time had elapsed their mutual
          friends and relations set on foot a negotiation for a
          reconciliation, and eventually Miss Kelly agreed to
          live with Mr. Swift, on condition that the marriage
          ceremony should be regularly performed, which was
          accordingly done: certain settlements were made, and
          they are now (for all I know to the contrary) living
          happily and harmoniously together. [The further
          proceedings in this cause are described in the second
          volume of this Journal, when they came before the Privy
          Council.]

[Page Head: SAINT-MAKING]

To-day there was a grand ceremony of the transportation of the
standard of a new saint (that is, one made about fifty years ago)
from St. Peter's to San Lorenzo in Lucina, his own church. This
saint is San Francisco Carraccioli, a Neapolitan. All the
peasantry came in, covered with religious gewgaws, and the
streets were crowded. There was a balcony at the Cardinal's as
for the Girandola, but the Duc de Dalberg and I went to the
Piazza di San Pietro, and saw it there; it was curious. First
came the guards; then the footmen of the cardinals in State
liveries, four for each, carrying torches; the clergy of various
orders with chandeliers, crucifixes, immense crosses, standards,
and all with torches; a long file of Jesuits, whose appearance
was remarkable, so humble and absorbed did they look; bands of
music and soldiers, the whole reaching from the door of
St. Peter's to the other side of the Castle of St. Angelo. This
procession made the _giro_ of the city, for we fell in with it
again in the Piazza della Colonna two hours afterwards. The
Church of San Lorenzo and the adjoining houses were illuminated,
and there was a picture, inscription, &c., stuck up over the
door. The Cardinal Galetti, who is the patron of this order,
asked the General of the Jesuits to send some of his flock to
swell the procession, which he was desirous of making as
brilliant as possible. The General excused himself on the ground
that the Jesuits were not in the habit of attending processions.
The Cardinal complained to the Pope of the General's refusal. The
next time the Pope saw him (he goes once a week to the Quirinal
to make his report), after discussing all their matters of
business and giving him the benediction, just as he was leaving
the room, the Pope called after him, 'O reverend Father, I hope
you will not send less than a hundred of your Jesuits to the
procession to-morrow.' The General was thunderstruck, but obliged
to obey. This ecclesiastical anecdote makes a noise here. The
present General is a Belgian, and a man of great ability. The
Jesuits have a college here, and a seminary; a hundred in the
one, and three hundred in the other.

The process of saint-making is extremely curious. There are three
grades of saintship: the first, for which I forget the name,
requires irreproachable moral conduct; the second (beatification),
two well-proved miracles; the third (sanctification), three. It
costs an immense sum of money to effect the whole, in some cases
as much as 100,000 piastres. The process begins by an application
to the Pope, on the part of the relatives of the candidate, or on
that of the confraternity, if they belong to a religious order.
The Pope refers the question to a tribunal, and the claimants are
obliged to appear with their proofs, which are severely
scrutinised, and the miracles are only admitted upon the
production of the most satisfactory evidence. Individuals
continually subscribe for this purpose, particularly for members
of religious orders, in order to increase the honour or glory of
the society. These trials last many years, sometimes for
centuries. There is a Princess of Sardinia, sister of the late
King, who died lately, and they want to make a saint of her. The
money (estimated at 100,000 piastres) is ready, but they cannot
rout out a miracle by any means, so that they are at a dead
stand-still before the second step. Nobody can be sanctified till
two hundred years after their death, but they may arrive at the
previous grades before that, and the proofs may be adduced and
registered.


June 1st, 1830 {p.386}

Yesterday news came of the change in the French Ministry,[9] of
which La Ferronays knew nothing the night before, and from which
Dalberg anticipates an increase of desperate measures on the part
of the Court. Went in the morning to Gibson's; in the evening to
the Orti Sallustiani, one of the many objects here not worth
seeing, though they show two great holes in a wall, which they
call the Campo Scelerato, and they say it is the place where the
frail vestals were buried. Coming back we met the Pope taking a
drive--two coaches-and-four, with guards and outriders. We got
out of the carriage and took off our hats, and our _laquais de
place_ dropped on his knees. The Pope was in white, two people
sitting opposite to him, and as he passed he scattered a
blessing. All persons kneel when he appears--that is, all
Catholics. The equipage was not brilliant. To the Corsini Villa,
the gardens of which are some of the shadiest and most agreeable
in Rome, but nobody inhabits the palace. The Corsinis live at
Florence, and when they come here they lodge elsewhere, for the
malaria, they say, occupies their domain. Thus it is that between
poverty and malaria Rome is deserted by its great men. But the
population ought to be increasing, for almost every woman one
meets is with child. Gell denies the malaria, says he should not
mind living where they say it is dangerous to live; but can this
be matter of opinion?

      [9] [Charles X. had signed the decree for the dissolution
          of the existing Chamber of Deputies on the 16th of May:
          on the 19th of May another ordinance appointed M. de
          Chantelauze to the Ministry of Justice, M. de Peyronnet
          to the Interior, M. de Montbel to the Finances, and M.
          Capelle to the Department of Public Works. These
          appointments, more especially that of M. de Peyronnet,
          were deemed in the highest degree hostile to the
          Liberal party.]

[Page Head: SAN LORENZO IN LUCINA]

In the evening looked into the Church and Piazza of San Lorenzo
in Lucina. The church is hung with drapery, adorned with statues,
and illuminated by innumerable wax candles. The piazza is
illuminated too, and drapery hung out from the windows. There
were crowds of people, lines of chairs, and boys bawling to the
people to come and sit upon them; others selling lemonade, others
the life and exploits of the saint on penny papers; a band of
military music on a scaffolding, and guards patrolling about.
Between the intervals of the band the bells, in discordant
chorus, regaled 'the ears of the groundlings.' This strange,
discordant scene, the foundation of which is religious, but which
has but little of the appearance of religion in it, lasts eight
successive days, and costs a vast sum of money--they say 9,000
scudi--the greatest part of which is furnished by the Government.
It probably answers some end, for it is difficult to conceive
that any Government, even this, should spend money, of which they
have so little to spare, on these fooleries while poverty
overspreads the land. This ceremony has not taken place before
for a hundred years. The sight is certainly very gay. Close by,
in the Palazzo Mani, is a theatre of marionettes, who play a
comedy of Goldoni. The Duke Fiani lets part of his palace for
this purpose. What an exhibition of wretchedness! He reserves a
box which his servants let to anybody, whether on his account or
their own I don't know.

_Evening._--Went before dinner to the Villa Madama, a ruined
villa belonging to the royal house of Naples, with fine paintings
still on the walls and ceilings, the vestiges of former luxury,
and a capital view of Rome, the Tiber, the Milvian Bridge, and
the mountains. After dinner to the San Gregorio to see the
frescoes, the 'Martyrdom of St. Andrew,' the rival frescoes of
Guido and Domenichino, and afterwards drove about till dark, when
we went to a most extraordinary performance--that of the
Flagellants. I had heard of it, and had long been curious to
assist at it. The church was dimly lit by a few candles on the
altar, the congregation not numerous. There was a service, the
people making the responses, after which a priest, or one of the
attendants of the church, went round with a bundle of whips of
knotted cord, and gave one to each person who chose to take it. I
took mine, but my companion laughed so at seeing me gravely
accept the whip, that he was obliged to hide his face in his
hands, and was passed over. In a few minutes the candles were
extinguished, and we were left in total darkness. Then an
invisible preacher began exhorting his hearers to whip themselves
severely, and as he went on his vehemence and passion increased.
Presently a loud smacking was heard all round the church, which
continued a few minutes; then the preacher urged us to fresh
exertions, and crack went the whips again louder and faster than
before as he exhorted. The faithful flogged till a bell rang; the
whips stopped, in a few minutes the candles were lit again, and
the priest came round and collected his cords. I had squeezed
mine in my hands, so that he did not see it, and I brought it
away with me. As soon as the candles were extinguished the doors
were locked, so that nobody could go out or come in till the
discipline was over. I was rather nervous when we were locked up
in total darkness, but nobody whipped me, and I certainly did not
whip myself. A more extraordinary thing (for sight it can't be
called) I never witnessed. I don't think the people stripped,
nor, if they did, that the cords could have hurt them much. From
thence to St. Peter's, where we found the _quarant' ore_ and the
high altar illuminated with heaps of candles. Only a few lights
scattered at a great distance through the rest of the church,
very few people there; but the dim light, the deep shades, the
vast space, and the profound stillness were sublime. Certainly
nothing in the world can approach St. Peter's, and it always
presents something new to admire.

From St. Peter's to the Vatican, to see the statues by
torchlight. The effect is wonderful, and totally unlike that
which is produced by day. The finest statues unquestionably gain
the most, and it is easy, after seeing this, to understand why
most of the best are found in the baths; a better notion, too,
may be formed of their magnificence. It would seem as if some
statues had been formed expressly to be thus exhibited. There is
a mutilated statue they call a Niobe (God knows why), with
drapery blown back by the wind and appearing quite transparent.
This effect cannot be produced by daylight.


[Page Head: BUNSEN'S ACCOUNT OF ROME]

June 2nd, 1830

Called on Bunsen, who has not yet got an answer from the agent he
sent to the office of the Grand Vicar. I had a long conversation
with him about the expediency of appointing an English Minister
or agent of some sort at Rome, which he thinks very desirable and
very feasible, upon the same plan on which the diplomatic
relations of Prussia with Rome are conducted, and which he says
go on very smoothly, and without embarrassment or inconvenience.
There is good faith on both sides. The Catholic bishops do not
attempt to deceive the Government, and he thinks that the Court
of Rome does not attempt to hold any clandestine intercourse with
the Prussian States. He says Albani is a sensible man; that the
cardinals are bigoted and prejudiced, hostile to England, and
most of them forgetful of all the See of Rome owes to our
country; but they are still aware that, in the hour of danger, it
is to England and the Protestant countries they must look for
protection, as they found it when Austria wanted to strip them of
the March of Ancona. He thinks there is much superstition among
the lower classes, little religion among any, great immorality in
all; the same desire of intriguing and extending its influence
which the Romish Church has always had, but with very diminished
means and resources. The Inquisition is still active in
repressing heresy among Roman subjects, but not venturing to
meddle with the opinions of foreigners. Its principles and its
forms are the same as in former times. He says we have an
inefficient Consul at Ancona, who was put in by Canning on
account of his Liverpool connections. It would be very desirable
to establish a regular Protestant church in Rome, with an able
and permanent minister; but there is only an occasional church,
with anybody who will serve in it, and who is paid by the
congregation; but such a man is totally unable to cope with the
Catholic preachers, and consequently many converts are made to
the Catholic religion. A Consul-General at Rome might answer the
purpose of an agent, and, without being an accredited Minister,
perform all the functions of one. This was the pith of what he
said, besides a great deal about the Catholic religion itself,
its inferiority to the Reformed, its incompatibility with free
institutions, and a good deal more, not much to the purpose.
Bunsen is a man of very considerable information, learned, very
obliging, and communicative, sensible, moderate, but rather
prejudiced. At this moment he is full of the French expedition
[to Algiers], and their colonising projects, of which he is
thoroughly persuaded and not a little afraid.

The Duc de Dalberg told me that at the Congress of Vienna he was
deputed to speak to Consalvi about ceding the March of Ancona to
the Austrians. He answered, 'My dear Duke, the Congress can treat
us as it pleases. If we are pressed, we must retreat to the
walls; further we cannot go, and we are there already.' The
Cardinal afterwards spoke to the Emperor, and the next day
Metternich said he had orders from the Emperor to declare that he
would take nothing from the Pontifical States without the free
concurrence of the Pope; so there ended that question.

[Page Head: FRASCATI]

_At night._--Just returned from Frascati with Henry de Ros--a
very agreeable expedition. We went to the inn, a most execrable
hotel, but dined very well on a repast we had the foresight to
take with us. Before dinner went to the Villa Conti, which has a
delicious garden, with fine trees and ample shade, and one of the
prettiest falls of water I have seen. The house we did not enter,
but it appeared small. To the Villa Marconi, without any garden,
but a capital house, and the only one which looks well kept and
inhabited. The Marconi house in the Conti garden would be
perfect. After dinner to Tusculum, a beautiful walk under shade,
with magnificent views over the Campagna on one side and Monte
Cavo, Rocca di Papa, and the Prati d'Annibale on the other. The
remains at Tusculum are next to nothing, part of a theatre, of an
aqueduct, and of the walls. I believe the town was destroyed by
Pope Celestine III. (1191), in order to extirpate a band of
robbers which had long infested the country and made Tusculum
their stronghold. All the country hereabout is beautiful, and the
air excellent, so that a more perfect residence cannot be
imagined. To the Villa Belvidere, belonging to Prince Aldobrandini,
deserted and neglected, but very enjoyable, full of childish
waterworks, but a good house, which is to be hired for £150 a
year, and might be made very comfortable. Here is Mount
Parnassus, and the water turns an organ, and so makes Apollo and
the Muses utter horrid sounds, and a Triton has a horn which he
is made to blow, producing a very discordant noise. I fell in
with Lady Sandwich, and went back to tea with her at a villa
which belonged to the Cardinal York. There are the royal arms of
England, a bust of the Cardinal, and a picture of his father or
brother. We also went to the Rufinella, whence the view is
extremely fine; this was Lucien Buonaparte's villa, and the scene
of the capture of a painter and a steward by the banditti, who
carried them off from the door of the villa and took them into
the Abruzzi, which may be descried from the terrace. The cicerone
who went with us (a tiresome and chattering fellow) told us that
he had attended Queen Caroline, that they had come to him for
evidence against her, and he had declared he knew nothing; but he
said he could have deposed to some things unfavourable to her,
having seen her and Bergami together and witnessed their
familiarity.


[Page Head: PROTESTANT STATES AND ROME]

June 4th, 1830 {p.391}

Yesterday rode round the walls. In the evening to the Vatican,
and afterwards to Bunsen's. He gave me his memorandum to read,
which is contained in a letter to Wilmot Horton of the 28th of
December, 1828, upon the settlement of the Catholic question, and
his view of the mode in which it might be done. He approves of
Wilmot's plan, not knowing at that time that the Duke had
resolved to grant unqualified emancipation. In this paper he
describes the existing arrangements between the other Protestant
Powers and the Court of Rome, and states in what manner he thinks
we might pursue a similar course. It is well done, and his ideas
appear to me very clear and sound. It is pretty evident that we
should meet with no difficulties here, and that they would
practically agree to everything we should require, provided we
did not insist upon their doing so in specific terms. Our
difficulties would arise from the extreme parties at home--the
ultra-Catholics and the ultra-Protestants--but a steady hand
might steer betwixt them both. Bunsen describes what has been
done in Prussia, Hanover, Netherlands, and the minor German
States; the Prussian arrangements appear to be the wisest. When
the King of Prussia began to negotiate, he did not allow his
Ministers to enter upon any discussion of principles, nor to ask
for any express sanction of the _status quo_. On the other hand
he did not prescribe to the Church of Rome the canonical form in
which an express or tacit acknowledgment of the claims and rights
of the Crown was to be made as to the secularisation of Church
property. The Netherlands went on a different plan, and framed a
constitution of the Roman Catholic Church in their dominions,
called a Pragmatic Sanction, which they wanted the Pope to
acknowledge. The Hanoverian Government also wished to conclude a
formal treaty, and oblige the Pope to sanction certain civil
regulations concerning Church government. He observes that the
Court of Rome will appear ignorant of, and thus tacitly
acknowledge, many things which it never will nor can expressly
sanction and approve.

Throughout Germany, both Catholic and Protestant, all
correspondence between the clergy and the Pope goes through the
Government by the law of the country--all matters public and
private--the Pope's bulls and briefs are returned in the same
way; and whenever any of these contain expressions which run
against the national laws, the _placet regium_ is only given with
clauses reserving the rights of the Crown, and annulling what is
irreconcilable with the civil law. The Court of Rome is quite
aware of this practice, and the legations of Bavaria and Austria,
as well as those of Prussia and Hanover, present the respective
petitions of their clergy through their Roman agents. Bunsen says
nothing can be practically more established, but that no
consideration would induce the Pope formally to sanction the
practice in a treaty.

In the arrangements respecting the appointment of bishops and
dignitaries, Prussia proposed the establishment of chapters, with
the same right of election which had existed before the French
Revolution. The smaller States of Germany followed a similar
plan. Hanover proposed and obtained a veto. The chapter presents
a list; the Government strikes out any name, but must leave two,
out of which the chapter may elect, but in case of irregularity
or inconvenience the chapter may make a second list. The
Netherlands have the same system of limited veto and second list,
and the confidential brief in addition.[10] The chapters have the
right of election, the Pope of confirmation, by canonical
institution as the necessary condition of the bishop's consecration;
but besides a confidential brief was agreed on desiring the
chapter not to elect as bishop a person 'minus gratam serenissimo
regi;' this ensures respect to the royal recommendation.

     [10] [These facts, originally suggested by Bunsen at Rome to
          Mr. Greville were afterwards used by him as the basis
          of his argument for the establishment of diplomatic
          relations with the Court of Rome in his book on the
          'Policy of England to Ireland,' published in 1845.]


June 5th, 1830 {p.393}

Yesterday morning called on M. de la Ferronays, but only saw him
for a minute, for the Austrian Ambassador arrived, and I was
obliged to go. He is in great alarm as well as sorrow at the
appointment of M. de Peyronnet[11] and the aspect of affairs in
France. He told me that he had so little idea of this appointment
that he would have guessed anybody rather than that man, who was
so odious that he had been rejected for three successive places,
for the representation of which he had stood when he was
Minister; that Villèle, with all his influence, could not get him
elected; and that in the Chamber of Peers he had been so
intemperate that he had been repeatedly called to order, a thing
which hardly ever occurred; that the Government had evidently
thrown away the scabbard by naming him on the eve of a general
election, and thus offering a sort of insult to the whole nation;
that it rendered his own position here very disagreeable,
although his was an ecclesiastical and not a political mission,
and that he in fact considered it only as an honourable retreat;
yet he had written to Polignac the moment the news reached him,
saying that if he considered him as in the least degree
implicated politically with his Government he should immediately
resign, and that if he found by his answer that he looked upon
him as in the remotest degree connected with their measures he
should instantly retire. I saw Dalberg afterwards, who appears to
me deeply alarmed. He looks with anxiety to the Duke of
Wellington as the only man whose authority or interference can
arrest the French Ministry in the career which must plunge France
into a civil war, if not create a general war in Europe. He
believes that Metternich and the Austrians are backing up Charles
X., and that, in case of any troubles, they will, in virtue of
the Treaty of Chaumont, pour troops into France. His hope, then,
is that the Duke will interpose and prevent this Austrian
interference.

     [11] [M. de Peyronnet was the Garde des Sceaux in the
          Polignac Cabinet: he was considered one of the most
          reactionary members of that ill-fated Administration.]

When La Ferronays told Polignac his opinion of the course he was
beginning, the other only said, 'Mon cher, tu ne connais pas le
pays.' The King told Dalberg himself that he would rather labour
for his bread than be King of England; that it was not being a
king. In his presence, too, he asked General ----, the Governor
of Paris, what was the disposition of the troops, and he
answered, 'Excellent, sir; I have been in all the _casernes_, and
they desire nothing so much as to fight for your Majesty;' and
such words as these the King swallows and acts upon. Their
confidence, audacity, and presumption are certainly admirable,
disdaining any art and management, and apparently anxious to
bring about a crisis with the least possible delay.


[Page Head: POLIGNAC AND VILLÈLE]

June 7th, 1830 {p.394}

Drove about yesterday taking leave of people and places, the
former of which I probably shall, and the latter shall not, see
again. I have seen almost everything, but leave Rome with great
regret, principally because I am afraid I shall never come again.
If I was sure of returning I should not mind it.

_Three o'clock._--Have determined to stay till after the Corpus
Domini. Called on the Cardinal, who received me _à bras ouverts_,
was full of civilities, and reconducted me to the outward room;
talked of the Catholics and of the anxiety of his Government to
see relations established with ours. I was obliged to go and take
leave of him, for Bruti brought me a message full of politeness
and a letter to convey to the Nuncio at Paris. Then to La
Ferronays, who says, as does Dalberg, that he is persuaded it
will end by the recall of Villèle to the Ministry, a compromise
that all parties will be glad to make--that he has had the
prudence to decline being a party to Polignac's Administration,
and when he is called to form one he will have nothing to say to
Polignac.[12] It certainly will be curious if Villèle, after
being driven from the Government with universal execration, and
almost proscribed, should in two years be recalled by the general
voice as the only man who can save France from anarchy and civil
war. La Ferronays says that Villèle is not a great Minister, but
a clever man, with great ingenuity and the art of management. He
wishes to be thought like Pitt, who was also obliged to quit the
Ministry, and afterwards resumed it; and he considers Polignac as
his Addington, not that the resemblance holds good in any of the
particulars, either of the men, or the times, or the circumstances.

     [12] [M. de Villèle had come to Paris from his country seat
          in April, and a secret attempt had been made to bring
          him back to power. Prince Polignac offered him a seat
          in the Cabinet, but showed no disposition to make way
          for him. The King feared Villèle and preferred
          Polignac. Yet if M. de Villèle had then returned to
          power, he would probably have saved the monarchy and
          changed the course of events in Europe. (See Duvergier
          de Hauranne, 'Histoire du Gouvernement parlementaire en
          France,' tome x. p. 468; for a narration of these
          transactions.)]


June 8th, 1830 {p.395}

Last night to the La Ferronays', when the Princess Aldobrandini
was so delighted with the anecdote of my horse-shoe that she is
gone off to the Pantheon to look at it. It was a full moon and a
clear night, so I went to the Coliseum, and passed an hour there.
I never saw it so well; the moon rode above without a cloud, but
with a brilliant planet close to her; there was not a breath of
air, not a human being near but the soldiers at the gates below,
and the monk above with me; not a sound was heard but those
occasional noises of the night, the bark of a dog, the chimes
from churches and convents, the chirp of a bird, which only
served to make silence audible. Though I have seen the Coliseum a
dozen times before, I never was so delighted with its beauty and
grandeur as to-night. No description in poetry or painting can do
it justice; it is a 'wreck of ruinous perfection,' whose charm
must be felt, and on such a night as this. The measures which the
Government have taken to save the Coliseum from destruction will
certainly accomplish that end, but its picturesque appearance
will be greatly damaged. There is no part of the ruin which is
not already supported by some modern brickwork, and they are
building a wall which will nearly surround it. If they had been
more selfish they would have left it to moulder away, and
posterity to grumble over their stinginess or indifference. I am
always tossed backwards and forwards between admiration of the
Coliseum and St. Peter's, and admire most that which I see last.
They are certainly 'magis pares quam similes,' but worth
everything else in Italy put together, except Paestum.

[Page Head: EXCOMMUNICATION OF A THIEF]

To-day the spiritual arms of the Church are to be fulminated
against a sinner in a case which is rather curious. There are two
brothers who live at a place called Genezzano, in two adjoining
houses, which formerly formed but one, belonging to the Colonna
family, of whom the progenitors of these men bought it. A short
time ago a man came to the brothers, and told them that in a
particular spot on the premises there was a treasure concealed,
the particulars of which he had learned from a memorandum in the
papers of the Colonna family, to which he had got access, and he
proposed to discover the same to them, if they would give him a
part of it. They agreed, when he told them that under a little
column built against a wall they would find a flat brick,
covering a hole, in which was an earthen pot containing 2,000
ducats in gold. The column was there, so at night the brothers
set to work to take it down, and beneath it they found the flat
stone as described. When one of them (an apothecary) said to the
other that, after all, it was probably an invention, that they
should be laughed at for their pains, and he thought they had
better give up the search, the other (who must be a great flat)
said, 'Very well,' and they retired to bed. In the morning the
apothecary told the other that in the night he could not help
thinking of this business, and that his curiosity had induced him
to get up and dig on, and that he had actually found the pot, but
nothing in it. The other, flat as he was, could not stand this,
and, on examining the pot, he found marks which, on further
investigation, turned out to be indications of coin having been
in it. The thief stuck to his story, so the dupe complained, and,
as the presumption is considered to be strongly against him, they
are going to try what excommunication will do. It is remarkable
that they asked this man if he would swear upon the Host that he
had not found any money, and this he refused to do, though he
continued to deny it and to decline restitution. He was accounted
a very religious man, and these were religious scruples, which,
however, were not incompatible with robbery and fraud. His
refusal to swear was taken as a moral evidence of guilt, and he
was to be excommunicated to-day.


June 9th, 1830 {p.397}

Saw Torlonia's house; very fine, and the only one in Rome which
is comfortably furnished, and looks as if it was inhabited. A
great many good pictures, and Canova's Hercules and Lycus, which
I do not admire. In the evening to the Convent of SS. Giovanni e
Paolo, which is remarkably clean and well kept. There are
forty-five friars (Passionisti), whose vows were not irrevocable,
and, though the cases do not often occur, they can lay aside the
habit if they please. They live on charity. In their garden is a
beautiful palm, one of three which grow in Rome. They have
several apartments for strangers who may like to retire to the
convent for a few days, which are very decently furnished, clean,
and not uncomfortable. They were at supper when I got there, so
I went to look at them. They eat in silence at two long tables
like those in our college halls, and instead of conversation they
were entertained by some passages of the life of St. Ignatius,
which a friar was reading from a pulpit. Their supper seemed by
no means despicable, for I met a smoking _frittura_ which looked
and smelt very good, and the table was covered with bread, fruit,
vegetables, and wine. But they fast absolutely three times a
week, and whip themselves (_la disciplina_) three others. They
teach theology and _la dogmatica_, and there is a library
containing (they told me) books of all sorts, though their
binding (for I only saw them through a trellis) looked desperately
theological. At night to a very fine _feu d'artifice_ in the
Piazza San Lorenzo, which ended the festivities in honour of San
Francisco Caraccioli, whose name appeared emblazoned amidst
rockets and squibs and crackers, and the uproarious delight of
the mob. Afterwards to the Pantheon to see it by moonlight, but
the moon was not exactly over the roof, so it failed, but the
effect of the partial light and the stars above was fine with the
torches below half hid behind the columns.


June 10th, 1830 {p.398}

I thought I had seen everything here worth seeing, yet, though I
have been several times to the Capitol, I have somehow missed
seeing the Palazzo dei Conservatori, containing the famous wolf
that suckled Romulus and Remus, in bronze, said to have been
struck by lightning (of which it bears all the marks) the day
Julius Caesar was killed; the boy picking the thorn from his
foot; the statue of the first Brutus; the geese of the Capitol
(which are more like ducks); and the Fasti Consulares. It just
occurred to me in time, and I went there yesterday morning. After
dinner to the Villa Ludovisi with the Dalbergs and Aldobrandinis,
which must owe its celebrity principally to the difficulty of
getting access to it. I was extremely disappointed; Guercino's
'Aurora' is not to be compared to Guido's; his 'Day' and 'Night'
are very fine, and the 'Fame' magnificent, but the ladies bustled
through so rapidly that it was not possible to examine anything.
The gardens are large, but all straight walks and clipped hedges.
The gallery of statues contains three or four fine things, but
they are huddled together and their effect spoilt.


[Page Head: PROCESSION OF THE CORPUS CHRISTI]

June 11th, 1830 {p.399}

Whilst the carriage is getting ready I may as well scribble the
last day at Rome. And this morning went at eight to the Palazzo
Accoramboni, to see the procession of the Corpus Domini, and was
disappointed. This Palazzo Accoramboni, in which we were
accommodated, belonged to a very rich old man, who was married to
a young and pretty wife. He died and left her all his fortune,
but, suspecting that she was attached to a young man who used to
frequent the house, he made the bequest conditional upon her not
marrying again, and if she did the whole property was to go to
some religious order. She was fool enough (and the man too) to
marry, but clandestinely. She had two children, and this brought
the marriage to light. They therefore lost the property,
amounting to £10,000 or £12,000 a year; but the Pope, in his vast
generosity, allows her out of it 300 piastres (about £65) a year,
and gives a portion of 1,000 piastres (£200) to each of the
little girls. It is supposed that she consulted some priest, who
urged her to marry secretly, and then revealed the fact to the
order interested. Otherwise it is difficult to account for their
folly.

The magnificence of ceremonies and processions here depends upon
the locality, and the awnings and flowers round the piazza spoilt
it all. It was long and rather tiresome--all the monks and
religious orders in Rome, the cardinals and the Pope, plenty of
wax-lights, banners, and crosses, the crosses of Constantine and
Charlemagne. The former is not genuine; that of Charlemagne is
really the one he gave to the See. The Pope looks as if he was
huddled into a short bed, and his throne, or whatever it is
called, is ill managed. He is supposed to be in the act of
adoration of the Host, which is raised before him, but as he
cannot kneel for such a length of time, he sits covered with
drapery, and with a pair of false legs stuck out behind to give
his figure the appearance of kneeling. Before him are borne the
triple crown and other Pontifical ornaments. The Guardia Nobile,
commanded by Prince Barberini, looked very handsome, and all the
troops _en très-belle tenue_. All the Ambassadors and foreigners
were in this palace, and from it we flocked to St. Peter's, which
is always a curious sight on these occasions from the multitudes
in it and the variety of their appearance and occupation--
cardinals, princes, princesses, mixed up with footmen, pilgrims,
and peasants. Here, Mass going on at an altar, and crowds
kneeling round it; there, the Host deposited amidst a peal of
music at another; in several corners, cardinals dressing or
undressing, for they all take off the costume they wore in the
procession and resume their scarlet robes in the church; men
hurrying about with feathers, banners, and other paraphernalia of
the day, the peasantry in their holiday attire, and crowds of
curious idlers staring about. All this is wonderfully amusing,
and is a scene which presents itself in continual variety. Went
afterwards and took leave of all my friends--La Ferronays,
Dalbergs, Bunsens, Lovaines, &c.--and at seven, to my great
sorrow, left Rome. But as I do all that superstition dictates, I
drank in the morning a glass of water at the Fountain of Trevi,
for they say that nobody ever drinks of the Fountain of Trevi
without returning to Rome.

The road about Narni and Augustus's Bridge is beautifully
picturesque. I set off directly to the cascade, with which I was
as much delighted as I was disappointed with that of Tivoli. It
is difficult to conceive anything more magnificent than the whole
of this scenery.


[Page Head: FALLS OF TERNI]

Florence, June 10th, 1830 {p.400}

The horses were announced, and I was obliged to break off my
account of Terni and resume it here, where I arrived after a
tedious journey of forty hours, from Rome.

Most people are dragged up the mountain by _bovi_, see the upper
part of the fall, and walk down. But as the _bovi_ were not at
hand, I reversed the usual order, walked to the bottom, and then
toiled to the top. The walk, which is lovely, lies through the
grounds of a count, who has a house close to the Nera (the Nera
(Nar) is the river into which the Velino runs, and in which there
is very good trout fishing), where the Queen of England once
lived for a month. At the different points of view are little
cabins (which would be very picturesque if they were less rudely
constructed) for the accommodation of artists and other
travellers. This gentleman has got a house which he reserves for
the use of artists, of which there are always several on the spot
during the summer. They pay nothing for the accommodation, but
each is obliged to leave a drawing when he goes away; and by this
means he has got an interesting collection, of the scenery of
Terni. Nothing can be more accurate, as well as beautiful, than
Byron's description of the cascade, and it is wonderful in his
magnificent poetry, how he has kept his imagination within the
bounds of truth, and neither added a circumstance nor lavished an
epithet to which it is not entitled.

         Horribly beautiful! but on the verge
         From side to side, beneath the glittering morn,
         An Iris sits amidst the infernal surge,
         Like Hope upon a death-bed, and, unworn
         Its steady dyes, while all around is torn
         By the distracted waters, bears serene
         Its brilliant hues with all their beams unshorn:
         Resembling, 'mid the torture of the scene,
         Love watching Madness with unalterable mien.

The rainbows are very various, seen from different points: from
the middle, where the river rushes from the vortex of the great
fall to plunge into another, the stream appears to be painted
with a broad layer of divers colours, never broken or mixed till
they are tossed up in the cloud of spray, and mingled with it in
a thousand variegated sparkles. Above, an iris bestrides the
moist green hill which rises by the side of the fall; and, as the
spray is whirled up in greater or less abundance, it perpetually
and rapidly changes its colours, now disappearing altogether, and
now beaming with the utmost vividness. The man told me that at
night the moon forms a white rainbow on the hill. There is a
delicious but dangerous coolness all about the cascade. All the
scenery about is as beautiful as possible. Just above the great
fall is the Velinus tearing along in the same channel, which was
first made for him by the Roman Consul 2,200 years ago--

             Velino cleaves the wave-worn precipice--

and there, the guide told me, some years ago a man threw in a
young and beautiful wife of whom he was jealous. He took her to
see the cascade, and when he got to this part (which is at the
end of a narrow path overhung with brushwood) he got rid of the
boys who always follow visitors, and after some delay returned
alone, and said the woman had fallen in. One scream had been
heard, but there was nobody to witness the truth. The mangled
body was found in the stream below. Jealousy is probably common
here. As I was walking a man passed me, going in great haste to
the mountain, but I paid no attention to him. When I got back I
heard that he was escaping from justice (into the Abruzzi,
which are in the Neapolitan dominions), having stabbed his
brother-in-law a few moments before out of jealousy of his wife.
The wounded man was still alive, but badly hurt. The murderer was
_un bravo mechanico_.

The mountain and the river have undergone many revolutions. The
rock through which the present path is cut has been formed
entirely by petrified deposits, and there are marks in various
parts of former cascades, from which the water has been turned
away. Clement VIII. (Aldobrandini) turned the water into its
present course. At the bottom the old outlet of the Romans is
dry, but is marked with that solidity which defies time, like all
their works of this kind. Great part of the road from Terni is
beautiful, and the Papal towns and villages appear to be in much
better condition than on the other road. Some of them perched on
the mountains are remarkably picturesque.


Bologna, June 14th, 1830 {p.402}

I went yesterday morning to Pratolino to see the statue of the
genius of the Apennines, by John of Bologna, six miles from
Florence. Pratolino was the favourite residence of the famous
Bianca Capello. The house has been pulled down. It is in a very
pretty English garden belonging to the Grand Duke, and, I think,
amazingly grand, but disgraced by presiding over a duck pond.
They told me that if he stood up (and he looks as if he could if
he would) he would be thirty _braccia_ in height. I went into his
head, and surveyed him on all sides. He ought to be placed over
some torrent, or on the side of a mountain; but as he is, from a
little distance (whence the ducks and their pond are not visible)
he is sublime. Myriads of fire-flies sparkled in every bush; they
are beautiful in a night journey, flitting about like meteors and
glittering like shooting stars.

[Page Head: MEZZOFANTI]

Dined with Lady Normanby at Sesto, set off at half-past eight,
and arrived here at nine this morning. The first thing I did was
to present my letter to Madame de Marescalchi from her sister,
the Duchesse de Dalberg, who received me graciously and asked me
to dinner; the next to call on Mezzofanti at the public library,
whom I found at his desk in the great room, surrounded by a great
many people reading. He received me very civilly, and almost
immediately took me into another room, where I had a long
conversation with him. He seems to be between fifty and sixty
years of age, short, pale, and thin, and not at all remarkable in
countenance or manner. He spoke English with extraordinary
fluency and correctness, and with a very slight accent. I
endeavoured to detect some inaccuracy of expression, but could
not, though perhaps his phraseology was occasionally more stiff
than that of an Englishman would be. He gave me an account of his
beginning to study languages, which he did not do till he was of
a mature age. The first he mastered were the Greek and Hebrew,
the latter on account of divinity, and afterwards he began the
modern languages, acquiring the idioms of each as he became
acquainted with the parent tongue. He said that he had no
particular disposition that way when a child, and I was surprised
when he said that the knowledge of several languages was of no
assistance to him in mastering others; on the contrary, that when
he set to work at a fresh language he tried to put out of his
head all others. I asked him of all modern languages which he
preferred, and which he considered the richest in literature. He
said, 'Without doubt the Italian.' He then discussed the genius
of the English language, and the merits of our poets and
historians, read, and made me read, a passage of an English book,
and then examined the etymology and pronunciation of several
words. He has never been out of Italy, or further in it than
Leghorn, talks of going to Rome, but says it is so difficult to
leave his library. He is very pleasing, simple, and communicative,
and it is extraordinary, with his wonderful knowledge, that he
should never have written and published any work upon languages.
He asked me to return if I stayed at Bologna. The library has a
tolerable suite of apartments, and the books, amounting to about
80,000 volumes, are in excellent order. One thousand crowns a
year are allowed for the purchase of new books.

The Bolognese jargon is unintelligible. A man came and asked him
some questions while I was there in a language that was quite
strange to me, and when I asked Mezzofanti what it was, he said
Bolognese, and that, though not harmonious, it was forcible and
expressive. Afterwards to the gallery, which contains the finest
pictures in Italy, though only a few: the Guidos and Domenichinos
are splendid. I think Domenichino the finest painter that ever
existed.


June 15th, 1830 {p.404}

Dined yesterday with Madame de Marescalchi, who lives in a great
palace, looking dirty and uncomfortable, except one or two rooms
which they occupy. There is a gallery of pictures, all of which
are for sale. Seven or eight Italians came to dinner, whose names
I never discovered. After dinner she took me to the Certosa, to
see the Campo Santo, which is a remarkably pretty spot, and the
dead appear to be more agreeably lodged at Bologna than the
living. I had much rather die here than live here. It is very
unlike the Campo Santo at Pisa, entirely modern, and looks
exceedingly cheerful. Guido's skull is kept here.

Went again to the gallery, and the Zambeccari Palace, where there
are a few good pictures, but not many. All the pictures in all
the palaces are for sale.

[Page Head: FERRARA]

_In the ferry, crossing the Po_ (i.e. written in the
ferry).--Called on Madame de Marescalchi to take leave. Set off
at half-past one, and in clouds of dust arrived at Ferrara. It is
curious to see this town, so large, deserted, and melancholy. A
pestilence might have swept over it, for there seems no life in
it, and hardly a soul is to be seen in the streets. It is eight
and a half miles round, and contains 24,000 inhabitants, of which
3,000 are Jews, and their quarter is the only part of the town
which seems alive. They are, as usual, crammed into a corner,
five streets being allotted to them, at each end of which is a
gate that is closed at nine o'clock, when the Jews are shut in
for the night. The houses are filthy, stinking, and out of
repair. The Corso is like a street in an English town, broad,
long, the houses low, and with a _trottoir_ on both sides. The
Castle, surrounded by a moat, stands in the middle of the town, a
gloomy place. In it lives the Cardinal Legate. I went to see the
dungeon in which Tasso was confined; and the library, where they
show Ariosto's chair and inkstand, a medal found upon his body
when his tomb was opened, two books of his manuscript poetry;
also the manuscript of the 'Gerusalemme,' with the alterations
which Tasso made in it while in prison, and the original
manuscript of Guarini's 'Pastor Fido.' The _custode_ told me that
in the morning the library was full of readers, which I did not
believe. There are some illuminated Missals, said to be the
finest in Italy. Though the idea of gaiety seems inconsistent
with Ferrara, they have an opera, corso, and the same round of
festivals and merriment as other Italian towns, but I never saw
so dismal a place.


[Page Head: VENICE]

Venice, June 16th, 1830 {p.405}

We crossed the Po, and afterwards the Adige, in boats. The
country is flat, and reminded me of the Netherlands. I was asleep
all night, but awoke in time to see some of the villas on the
banks of the Brenta. Of Padua I was unconscious. Embarked in a
gondola at Fusina, and arrived at this remarkable city under the
bad auspices of a dark, gloomy, and very cold day. It is Venice,
but living Venice no more. In my progress to the inn I saw
nothing but signs of ruin and blasted grandeur, palaces half
decayed, and the windows boarded up. The approach to the city is
certainly as curious as possible, so totally unlike everything
else, and on entering the Great Canal, and finding

           The death-like silence and the dread repose

of a place which was once the gayest and most brilliant in the
world, a little pang shoots across the imagination, recollecting
its strange and romantic history and its poetical associations.

_Two o'clock._--I am just driven in by a regular rainy day, and
have the prospect of shivering through the rest of it in a room
with marble floor and hardly any furniture. However, it is the
only bad day there has been since the beginning of my expedition.
The most striking thing in Venice (at least in such weather as
this) is the unbroken silence. The gondolas glide along without
noise or motion, and, except other gondolas, one may traverse the
city without perceiving a sign of life. I went first to the
Church of Santa Maria dei Frati, which is fine, old, and adorned
with painting and sculpture. At Santa Maria dei Frati Titian was
buried. Canova intended a monument for him, but after his death
his design was executed and put up in this church, but for him,
and not for Titian, the reverse of 'sic vos non vobis.' Here are
tombs of several Doges, of Francis Foscari, with a pompous
inscription. The body of Carmagnola lies here in a wooden coffin;
his head is under the stone on which it was cut off in the Piazza
di San Marco. He was beheaded by one of those pieces of iniquity
and treachery which the Venetian Government never scrupled to use
when it suited them. Then to the Scuola di San Rocco, containing
a splendid apartment and staircase, all richly gilded, painted by
Tintoret, and with bronze doors. To the Church of Santa Maria
della Salute, containing a very rich altar-piece of precious
stones, which is locked up, and produced on great occasions; and
in the sacristy three fine pictures by Titian. To the Church of
St. Mark and the Doge's Palace--all very interesting, antique,
and splendid. But the Austrians have modernised some of the
rooms, and consequently spoilt them. They have also blocked up
the Bridge of Sighs, and the reason (they told me) is that all
the foreigners who come here are so curious to walk over it,
which seems an odd one for shutting it up. The halls of audience
and of the different councils are magnificently gilded, and
contain some very fine pictures.

The Hall of the Council of Ten (the most powerful and the
most abominable tribunal that ever existed) has been partly
modernised. In the Chamber of the Inquisitors of State is still
the hole in the wall which was called the 'Lion's Mouth,' through
which written communications were made; and the box into which
they fell, which the Inquisitors alone could open. There were
'Bocche di Lioni' in several places at the head of the Giant's
Staircase, and in others. The mouths are gone, but the holes
remain. Though the interior of the Ponte di Sospiri is no longer
visible, the prisons are horrible places, twenty-four in number,
besides three others under water which the French had closed up.
They are about fourteen feet long, seven wide, and seven high,
with one hole to admit air, a wooden bed, which was covered
with straw, and a shelf. In one of the prisons are several
inscriptions, scrawled on the wall and ceiling.

            Di chi mi fido, mi guardi Iddio,
            Di chi non mi fido, mi guardo io.

            Un parlar pocho, un negar pronto,
            Un pensar in fine può dar la vita
            A noi altri meschini.

            Non fida d'alcuno, pensi e tacci
            Se fuggir vuoi di spioni, insidie e lacci.
            Il pentirti, il pentirti, nulla giova
            Ma ben del valor tuo far vera prova.

There are two places in which criminals, or prisoners, were
secretly executed; they were strangled, and without seeing their
executioner, for a cord was passed through an opening, which he
twisted till the victim was dead. This was the mode pursued with
the prisoners of the Inquisitors; those of the Council were often
placed in a cell to which there was a thickly grated window,
through which the executioner did his office, and if they
resisted he stabbed them in the throat. The wall is still covered
with the blood of those who have thus suffered. From the time of
their erection, 800 years ago, to the destruction of the Republic
nobody was ever allowed to see these prisons, till the French
came and threw them open, when the people set fire to them and
burnt all the woodwork; the stone was too solid to be destroyed.
One or two escaped, and they remain as memorials of the horrors
that were perpetrated in them.


[Page Head: VENICE]

June 17th, 1830 {p.408}

This morning was fine again, and everything looks gayer than
yesterday. From the Rialto to the Piazza di San Marco there is
plenty of life and movement, and it is exactly like Cranbourne
Alley and the other alleys out of Leicester Square. While Venice
was prosperous St. Mark's must have been very brilliant, but
everything is decayed. All round the piazza are coffee houses,
which used to be open and crowded all night, and some of them are
still open, but never crowded. They used to be illuminated with
lamps all round, but most of these are gone. One sees a few Turks
smoking and drinking their coffee here, but they are all obliged
to dine and sleep in one house, which is on the Grand Canal, and
called the Casa dei Turchi. I went this morning to the Chiesa
Scalzi, San Georgio Meggiore, Redentore, SS. Giovanni e Paolo,
and the Gesuiti. The latter is the most beautiful church I ever
saw, the whole of it adorned with white marble inlaid with verd
antique in a regular pattern. SS. Giovanni e Paolo has no marble
or gilding, but is full of monuments of Doges and generals. To
the Manfrini Palace for the pictures. The finest picture in the
palace is Titian's 'Deposition from the Cross,' for which the
Marchese Manfrini refused 10,000 ducats. A Guido (Lucretia) and
some others. Tintoret was no doubt a great genius, but his large
pictures I cannot admire, and Bassano's still less. Titian's
portrait of Ariosto is the most interesting in the collection. To
the Arsenal, which is three miles in circumference, and a
prodigious establishment. In the time of the Republic there were
nearly 6,000 men employed in it, in that of the French 4,000, now
800. The old armoury is very curious, full of ancient weapons,
the armour of Henry IV. of France, and of several Doges, Turkish
spoils, and instruments of torture. The Austrians have made the
French much regretted here. It is since the last peace that the
population of Venice has diminished a fourth, and the palaces of
the nobles have been abandoned. There is no commerce; the
Government spend no money, and do nothing to enliven or benefit
the town (there has not yet been time to see the effect of making
it a free port). The French employed the people, and spent money
and embellished the place. They covered over a wide canal and
turned it into a fine street, and adjoining it they formed a
large public garden, which is a delightful addition to the town.
Till the French came the bridges were dangerous; there was no
balustrade on either side, and people often fell into the water.
They built side walls to all of them, which was the most useful
gift they could bestow upon the Venetians.

This morning I asked for the newspapers which came by the post
yesterday, and found that they had not yet returned from the
police, and would not be till to-morrow. Before anybody is
allowed to read their newspapers they must undergo examination,
and if they contain anything which the censor deems objectionable
they detain them altogether. After dinner I went to the public
gardens, and into a theatre which is in them; there is no roof to
it, and the acting is all by daylight, and in the open air. I
only arrived at the end, just in time to see the deliverance of a
Christian heroine and a very truculent-looking Turk crammed down
a trap-door, but I could not understand the dialogue. Nothing
certainly can be more extraordinary or more beautiful than Venice
with her adjacent islands, and nothing more luxurious than
throwing oneself into a gondola and smoothly gliding about the
whole day, without noise, motion, or dust. At night I went to a
dirty, ill-lit theatre, to see the 'Barbiere di Seviglia,' which
was very ill performed. There was a ballet, but I did not stay
for it.


June 18th, 1830 {p.409}

To the Church of St. Mark, and examined it. It is not large, but
very curious, so loaded with ornament within and without, and so
unlike any other church. The pavement, instead of being flat, is
made to undulate like the waves of the sea. All the sides are
marble, all the top mosaic, all the pavement coloured marble in
exquisite patterns. There is not a single tomb in it, but it
wants no ornament that the wealth and skill of ages could supply.
Climbed up the tower to see Venice and the islands; a man is
posted here day and night to strike the hours and quarters on a
great bell, to ring the alarm in case of fire in any part of the
city. It is a very curious panorama, and the only spot from which
this strange place can be completely seen. In the Grimani Palace
there are some Titians (not very good) of Grimani Doges, and
others of the family; the famous statue of Agrippa, which
Cardinal Grimani brought from Home, and a ceiling by Salviati of
Neptune and Minerva contending to give a name to Athens. In the
Pisani Palace, a fine picture of P. Veronese, 'Darius's Family at
the Feet of Alexander.'[13] The Barbarigo Palace has never been
modernised, has kept all its original form and decorations. It is
full of Titians, all very dirty and spoiling. The finest is the
'Magdalen,' which is famous. The Royal Academy, called the Scuola
della Carità, contains a magnificent collection of the Venetian
school.

     [13] [This fine work is now in the National Gallery,
          London.]

In I forget which church is the 'Martyrdom of St. Peter' by
Titian, so like in composition the same subject by Domenichino at
Bologna that the one is certainly an imitation of the other
(Titian died in 1576; Domenichino was born in 1581). There is the
same sort of landscape, same number of figures, and in the same
respective attitudes and actions, and even the same dress to
each. In the hall of the Academy are preserved Canova's right
hand in an urn, and underneath it his chisel, with these words
inscribed: 'Quod amoris monumentum idem gloriae instrumentum
fuit.' There is also a collection of drawings and sketches by
various masters; some by M. Angelo and some by Raphael.


[Page Head: VINCENZA AND PADUA]

Vicenza, June 19th, 1830 {p.411}

This morning went again to St. Mark's to examine the library and
the palace, which I could hardly see the other day, it was such,
gloomy weather. The library is open to everybody, but with a long
list of rules, among which silence is particularly enjoined. The
_custos librorum_ is a thorough Venetian; talked with fond regret
of the splendour of the Republic, and is very angry with Daru for
his history. The Hall of the Great Council, containing the
portraits of the Doges (and Marino Faliero's black curtain), is
splendid, and adorned with paintings of Paul Veronese, Bassano,
Tintoret, and Palma Giovane. At twelve o'clock I got into the
gondola and left Venice without the least regret or desire to
return there. The banks of the Brenta would be very gay if the
villas were inhabited, but most of them are shut up, like the
palaces at Venice. There is one magnificent building, formerly a
Pisani palace, which belongs to the Viceroy, the Archduke Rainer.

Padua is a large and rather gloomy town. They say it is beginning
to flourish, having been ruined by the French, and that, since
their downfall, the population has increased immensely. The
University contains 1,400 scholars. It contained 52,500 in the
time of the French, and in the great days of Padua 18,000. I went
to look at the outside of the building, which is not large, but
handsome. The old palace of the Carraras is half ruined, and what
remains is tenanted by the commandant of the place. The old Sala
di Giustizia, which, is very ancient, is now a lumber room, and
they were painting scenes in it. Still it is undamaged, and they
call it the finest room in Europe, and perhaps it is. It is 300
feet long, 100 wide, and 100 high. At one end of it is the
monument and bust of Livy, the latter of which they pretend to
have found here; they also talk of his house and the marbles,
&c., that have been dug up in it, which they may believe who can.
The Cathedral has nothing to boast of, except that Petrarch was
one of its canons, and in it is his bust, put up by a brother
canon. I had not time to go to the churches.

The whole road from Fusina to this place is as flat as the paper
on which I am writing. I really don't believe there is a
molehill, but it is extremely gay from the variety of habitations
and the prodigious cultivation of all sorts. Vicenza is one of
the most agreeable towns I ever saw, and I would rather live in
it than in any place I have seen since Rome. It is spacious and
clean, full of Palladio's architecture; besides the Palazzo della
Ragione, a very fine building, there are twenty-two palaces built
by him in various parts of the town. They show the house in which
he lived. From the Church of Santa Maria del Monte, a mile from
the town, there is a magnificent view, and the town itself, under
the mountains of the Tyrol, and the end of a vast cultivated
plain, looks very inviting and gay. There is a Campo di Marte, a
public walk and drive, and from it a covered walk (colonnade)
half a mile long up to the church on the hill. One of the most
remarkable things here is the Olympic Theatre, which was begun by
Palladio and finished by his son. It is a small Grecian theatre,
exactly as he supposes those ancient theatres to have been, with
the same proscenium, scenes, decorations, and seats for the
audience. There appeared to me to be some material variations
from the theatre at Pompeii. In the latter the seats go down to
the level of the orchestra, which they do not here, and at
Pompeii there is no depth behind the proscenium, whereas here
there is very considerable. It is, however, a beautiful model.
The air and the water are good, and there is shooting, so that I
really think it would be possible to live here. They talk with
horror of the French, and of the two seem to prefer the
Austrians, but peace is better than war, _caeteris paribus_.


[Page Head: BRESCIA AND MILAN]

Brescia, June 21st, 1830 {p.412}

This is a particularly nice town, airy, spacious, and clean, and
in my life I never saw so many good-looking women. There is a
drive and walk on the ramparts, where I found all the beauty and
fashion of Brescia, a string of carriages not quite so numerous
as in Hyde Park, but a very decent display. The women are
excessively dressed, and almost all wear black lace veils, thrown
over the back of the head, which are very becoming. The walks on
the ramparts are shaded by double rows of trees, and command a
very pretty view of the mountains and country round. This inn is
execrable. I stopped at Verona to see the Amphitheatre, which is
only perfect in the inside, and has been kept so by repeated
repairs. It is hardly worth seeing after the Flavian and the
Pompeiian. There is a wooden theatre in it, where they act, and
the spectators occupy the ancient seats. The tombs of the
Scaligeri are admirable, the most beautiful and graceful Gothic;
their castle (now the Castle Vecchio) a gloomy old building in a
moat, but with a very curious bridge over the Po. The Church of
St. Zeno is remarkable from its Gothic antiquity and the
profusion of ornament about it of a strange sort. Here is the
tomb of Pepin, erected by Charlemagne, but empty; for the French,
in one of their invasions, carried the body to France. In the
Cathedral is a fine picture of the 'Assumption of the Virgin' by
Titian. I saw many Veronese beauties in their balconies, but none
quite like Juliet. Her tomb (or, as they would say at Rome,
'sepolcro detto di Giulietta') I did not see, for it was too far
off. I was in a hurry to be off, and there was nobody to detain
me with a tender 'Wilt thou be gone? It is not yet near' _night_.
The road, which is excellent, runs in sight of the Alps all the
way, and the Lago di Garda is excessively pretty.


Milan, June 23rd, 1830 {p.413}

Milan is a very fine town, without much to see in it. The Duomo,
Amphitheatre, Arch of the Simplon, Brera (pictures). There are a
few fine pictures in the Brera; among others Guido's famous
'St. Peter and St. Paul,' Guercino's 'Hagar and Abraham;' a row
of old columns which were broken and lying about till the French
set them upon their legs; Leonardo da Vinci's fresco, which is
entirely spoilt. The view from the top of the Duomo is superb,
over the boundless plain of Lombardy with the range of the Alps,
and the Apennines in the distance. I like the Duomo, but I know
my taste is execrable in architecture. I don't, however, like the
mixture of Italian with the Gothic--balustrades over the
door, for instance--but I admire its tracery and laborious
magnificence. Buonaparte went on with it (for it was never
finished), and this Government are completing it by degrees;
there will be 7,000 statues on different parts of the outside,
and there are already 4,500. St. Charles Borromeo's tomb is very
splendid, and for five francs they offered to uncover the glass
case in which his much esteemed carcase reposes, and show me the
venerable mummy, but I could not afford it. The entrance to Milan
from Venice, and the Corso, are as handsome as can be. The Opera
is very bad, but the Scala is not open, and none of the good
singers are here.


Varese, June 26th, 1830 {p.414}

Left Milan at six o'clock on the 24th, and got to Como after
dark. Embarked in the steam boat at eight yesterday morning, went
as far as Cadenebbia, where I got out, saw the Villa Sommariva,
then crossed over and went round the point of Bellagio to see the
opening of the Lake of Lecco, turned back to the Villa Melzi, saw
the house and gardens, and then went back to dine at Cadenebbia,
and waited for the steam boat, which returned at four, and got
back to Como at half-past six. Nothing can surpass the beauty of
all this scenery, or the luxury of the villas, particularly
Melzi, which is the best house, and contains abundance of shade,
flowers, statues, and shrubberies. The owners live very little
there, and principally in winter, when, they say, it is seldom
cold in this sheltered spot. The late Count Melzi was Governor of
Milan under Napoleon, and used to feast the Viceroy here. He once
gave him a _fête_, and had all the mountain tops illuminated, of
which the effect must have been superb.

_Evening. Top of the Simplon._--Set off at five from Varese,
travelled very slowly through a very pretty road to Navero, where
I crossed the Lago Maggiore in a boat, and landed at the Isola
Bella, which is very fine in its way, though rather flattered in
its pictures. The house is large and handsome, and there is a
curious suite of apartments fitted up with pebbles, spars, and
marble, a suite of habitable grottoes. The garden and terraces
are good specimens of formal grandeur, and as the Count
Borromeo's son is a botanist, they are full of flowers and shrubs
of all sorts and climates.

          Whatever fruits in different climes are found,
          That proudly rise or humbly court the ground;
          Whatever sweets salute the northern sky
          With vernal flowers, that blossom, but to die;
          These, here disporting, own the kindred soil,
          Nor ask luxuriance from the planter's toil.

The expense of keeping this place up is immense, but the owner is
very rich. He lives there during August and September, and has
fifteen other country houses. All the island belongs to him, and
is occupied by the palace and gardens, except some fishermen's
huts, which are held by a sort of feudal tenure. They live there
as his vassals, fishing for him, rowing him about the lake, and
their children and wives alone are employed in the gardens. It
was built about 150 years ago by a younger son (a nephew of San
Carlo), who was richer than his elder brother. He was his own
architect, and planned both house and garden, but never completed
his designs. The cost was enormous, but if he had lived and
finished it all, he would have spent four millions more. There is
a laurel in the garden, the largest in Europe, two trees growing
from one stem, one nine and the other ten feet round and eighty
high; under this tree Buonaparte dined, as he came into Italy,
before the battle of Marengo, and with a knife he cut the word
'Battaglia' on the bark, which has since been stripped off, or
has grown out--so the gardeners said at least. Breakfasted at
Baveno, which is the best inn I have seen in Italy. The road from
Baveno is exceedingly beautiful, but on the whole I am rather
disappointed with the Simplon, though it is very wild and grand;
but I am no longer struck with the same admiration at the sight
of mountains that I was when I entered Savoy and saw them for the
first time. I walked the last thirteen miles of the ascent to
this place, and found one of the best dinners I ever tasted, or
one which my hunger made appear such.


[Page Head: RETURN TO ENGLAND]

Geneva, June 29th, 1830 {p.415}

Got here last night, and found twenty letters at least. I only
think of getting home as fast as I can. Left the Simplon in
torrents of rain, which lasted the whole day. The descent is
uncommonly grand, wild, savage, and picturesque, the Swiss side
the finest. All along the valley of the Rhone fine scenery; and
yesterday, in the most delightful weather I ever saw, the drive
from Martigny, along the lake and under the mountains, is as
beautiful as possible. The approach to Geneva is gay, but Mont
Blanc looks only very white, and not very tall, which is owing to
the level from which he is seen. They tell me it has never ceased
raining here, while on the other side of the Alps hardly a drop
has fallen. Only three rainy days while I was in Italy--one at
Venice, one at Rome, and a couple of halves elsewhere.

_Evening._--Passed the whole day driving about Geneva, in Bautt's
shop, and at the Panorama of Switzerland. Dined with Newton,
drove round the environs by Sécheron; a great appearance of
wealth and comfort, much cultivation, no beggars, and none of the
houses tumbling down and deserted. Altogether I like the
appearance of the place, though in a great hurry to get away from
it. We had a storm of thunder and lightning in the evening, which
was neither violent nor long, but I had the pleasure of hearing

         Jura answer from her misty shroud
         Back to the joyous Alps, that call on her aloud.

Mont Blanc was hid in clouds all day, but the mountains owe me
some grudge. Mont Blanc won't show his snows, nor would Vesuvius
his fires. It was dark when I crossed the Cenis, and raining when
I descended the Simplon.


[Page Head: DEATH OF GEORGE IV.]

Paris, July 3rd, 1830 {p.416}

Got here last night, after a fierce journey of sixty-three hours
from Geneva, only stopping two hours for breakfast; but by never
touching anything but bread and coffee I was neither heated nor
tired. The Jura Mountains, which they say are so tedious, were
the pleasantest part of the way, for the road is beautiful all
through them, not like the Alps, but like a hilly, wooded park.
It rained torrents when I set out, but soon cleared up, and when
I got to the top of the first mountain, I saw a mass of clouds
rise like a curtain and unveil the whole landscape of Geneva,
lake, mountains, and country--very fine sight. We heard of the
King's death in the middle of the night.


Calais, July 6th, 1830 {p.417}

Voilà qui est fini. Got here last night, and found the Government
packet only goes out five days a week, and not to-day. I am very
sorry my journey is all over, but glad to find myself in England
again--that is, when I get there. I saw Lord Stuart at Paris,
just breaking up his establishment and sending his wife off to
the Pyrenees. Heard all the news of London and Paris, such as it
was. Not a soul left in Paris, which was like a dead city. I only
heard that, notwithstanding the way the elections are going
against the Government, Polignac is in high spirits. The King of
France was very civil about the death of our King,[14] and,
without waiting, as is usual, for the announcement of the event
by the English Ambassador, he ordered the Court into mourning
upon the telegraphic account reaching Paris.

     [14] [George IV. died at Windsor on the 26th of June, 1830.]

Here is the end of my brief but most agreeable expedition,
probably the only one I shall ever make. However this may be, I
have gained thus much at least--

           A consciousness remains that it has left,
           Deposited upon the silent shore
           Of memory, images, and precious thoughts,
           That shall not die, and cannot be destroyed.




                              NOTE.

            _MR. GREVILLE'S CONNEXION WITH THE TURF._


Frequent references will be remarked in these volumes to the
connexion of their author with the Turf, which was his favourite
amusement, and to his position as an influential member of the
Jockey Club. It may, therefore, be worth while to record in this
place the principal incidents in his racing career; and we are
tempted, in spite of the strange and incorrect phraseology of the
writer, to borrow the following notice of them from the pages of
'Bailey's Magazine,' published soon after Mr. Greville's death:--

'Though the Warwick family have long been identified with the
sports of the field, it is fair to assume that Mr. Greville's
love for the turf came from his mother's side, as the Portlands,
especially the late Duke, have always been amongst the strongest
supporters of the national sport, and raced, as became their
position in society. That Mr. Greville took to racing early may
be imagined when we state he saw his first Derby in 1809, when
the Duke of Grafton's Pope won it, beating five others. At that
period he was barely fifteen years of age, and the impression the
sight of the race made upon him at the time was very great, and
it was rekindled more strongly when, in 1816, travelling with his
father and mother to Ickworth, the seat of the Marquis of
Bristol, he stopped at Newmarket and saw Invalid and Deceiver run
a match on the heath; and subsequently he saw a great sweepstakes
come off between Spaniard, Britannia, and Pope, which the latter
won. Four years elapse, and, as a proof that the lad we have
described had kept pace with the times, we find him selected to
manage the racing establishment of the late Duke of York, on the
death of Mr. Warwick Lake. The first step taken by Mr. Greville
on being installed in office was to weed the useless ones and the
ragged lot; and with the aid of Butler (father of the late Frank
and the present William Butler) he managed so well that in his
second year he won the Derby for him with Moses. As the Duke's
affairs at that time were in anything but a flourishing
condition, Mr. Greville did not persuade him to back his horse
for much money; still his Royal Highness won a fair stake, and
was not a little pleased at the result. He likewise carried off
the Claret with him the following year. With Banker, who was a
very useful horse at all distances, he won for him many good
races; and, by a reference to the "Calendars" of the day, it will
be seen the Duke won in his turn, if he did not carry all before
him. To reproduce the names of his horses now would not be worth
while, as from the effluxion of time the interest in them has
ceased. The first animal in the shape of a race-horse that Mr.
Greville ever possessed was a filly by Sir Harry Dimsdale, which
he trained in the Duke's stable with a few others of no great
standing.

'Circumstances with which the world are familiar rendering the
retirement of the Duke of York requisite, his stud came to the
hammer, and Mr. Greville came to the assistance of his uncle, the
Duke of Portland, who trained with Prince. With the Duke Mr.
Greville remained some little time, and afterwards became
confederate with Lord Chesterfield, who was at that time coming
out, and was in great force with his Zinganee, Priam, Carew,
Glaucus, and other crack horses. During this time he had few
horses of any great account of his own, although his confederate
had nothing to complain of in the shape of luck. At the
termination of this confederacy Mr. Greville entered upon another
with his cousin, Lord George Bentinck, who, from his father's
hostility to his racing, was unable to run horses in his own
name. The extent of this stud was so great that we are unable to
deal with it at the same time with the horses of the subject of
our memoir, who can scarcely be said to have come across a really
smashing good mare until he met with Preserve, with whom, in
1834, he won the Clearwell and Criterion, and in the following
year the One Thousand Guineas, besides running second for the
Oaks to Queen of Trumps. A difference of opinion as to the
propriety of starting Preserve for the Goodwood Stakes led to
their separation, and for a time they were on very bad terms, but
by the aid of mutual friends a reconciliation was effected. From
what Preserve did for him, Mr. Greville was induced to dip more
freely into the blood, or, as old John Day would have said, to
take to the family, and accordingly he bought Mango, her own
brother, of Mr. Thornhill, who bred him. Mango only ran once as a
two-year-old, when, being a big, raw colt, he was not quick
enough on his legs for the speedy Garcia filly of Col. Peel and
John Day's Chapeau d'Espagne, and was easily beaten. In the
spring Mango made so much improvement that Mr. Greville backed
him for the Derby for a good stake; and had he been able to have
continued his preparation at Newmarket, and been vanned to Epsom,
as is the custom in the present day, there is little doubt he
would have won; but having to walk all the way from Newmarket, he
could not afford to lose the days that were thus consumed, and
although he ran forward he did not get a place. That this view of
the case is not a sanguine one is proved by his beating Chapeau
d'Espagne, the second for the Oaks, for the Ascot Derby, and
within an hour afterwards bowling over Velure, the third in that
race, for William the Fourth's Plate. On the Cup Day he likewise
beat the Derby favourite, Rat-Trap, over the Old Mile. At
Stockbridge, in a sweepstakes of 100 sovs. each, with thirteen
subscribers, he frightened all the field away with the exception
of Wisdom, whom he beat cleverly, and then he remained at
Dilly's, at Littleton, to be prepared for the St. Leger. Having
stood his work well, John Day brought over The Drummer and
Chapeau d'Espagne from Stockbridge to try him on Winchester
race-course. Both Mr. Greville and Lord George Bentinck had
reason to be satisfied with what Mango did in his gallop on that
morning, and the latter backed him very heavily for the
race--much more so, indeed, than his owner. Mr. Greville was
anxious to have put up John Day, but the Duke of Cleveland having
claimed him for Henriade, he was obliged to substitute his son
Sam, a very rising lad, with nerves of iron and the coolest of
heads. The race was a memorable one, inasmuch as William Scott,
who was on Epirus, the first favourite, fell into the ditch soon
after starting, and Prince Warden running over him and striking
him with his hind leg, he sustained a severe fracture of the
collar-bone. Henriade also came down about a distance from home
from a dog crossing the course. John Day, however, soon righted
him, but the _contretemps_ spoilt his chance. At the stand there
were but three in the struggle--The Doctor, Abraham Newland, and
Mango. The two former seemed to be making a match of it, and it
looked impossible for Mango to get up; but a slight opening
presenting itself, which was not visible to the spectators, Sam
Day, with a degree of resolution which justifies the attributes
we have before ascribed to him, sent his horse through with such
a terrific rush that his breeches were nearly torn off his boots,
and won by a neck.

'After the race Lord George, who was a very heavy winner, gave
Honest John £500 for his trial with the Drummer; the like sum to
Sam Day for having ridden him better than he was ridden in the
Derby, and an equivalent proportion to Montgomery Dilly for
preparing him better than Prince for the same race. Mango was
afterwards sent to Newmarket for the St. Leger, and "Craven," who
then edited the "Sporting Magazine," having asserted that Mr.
Greville had caused it to be reported that Mango was lame to get
him back in the markets for that race, he called on him to
apologise for the statement, which proving, by the volunteered
testimony of Lord George Bentinck, Colonel Anson, and Admiral
Rous, to be wholly without foundation, the writer in question
made Mr. Greville the fullest _amende honorable_. Mango only won
once again as a four-year-old, when he carried off a sweepstakes
of 300 sovereigns at Newmarket, beating Chapeau d'Espagne and
Adrian. Having thus established himself with Dilly, owing to Mr.
Payne, with whom he had become confederate, training at
Littleton, Mr. Greville made no change until Dilly gave up, when
he continued his confidence to his brother William Dilly, who
succeeded him on his retirement from Lord Glasgow.

'It was some few years before Mr. Greville had another good
horse, at least one that is worth dwelling upon, and Alarm must
be considered the legitimate successor to Mango. This colt Mr.
Greville purchased of his breeder, Captain George Delmé, and
tried him good enough to win the Derby in 1845 in a canter, even
in the face of such animals as Idas and The Libel. But just prior
to starting an accident occurred by which all Mr. Greville's
hopes were destroyed; for The Libel flying at Alarm very
savagely, he jumped the chains, threw Nat who lay for a time
insensible on the ground, and ran away. He was, however, soon
caught and remounted, and although much cut about ran forward
enough to justify the idea that but for his accident he must have
won, as no other animal could have got through the Cambridgeshire
with 7st. 10lb. on him so easily as he did in a field of such
quality as he met. In the following year Alarm made some amends
for his Epsom failure, by winning the Ascot Cup, as well as the
Orange Cup at Goodwood, the latter after a terrific race with
Jericho. He also, at Newmarket in the autumn, won three great
matches in succession, viz. with Oakley, the Bishop of Romford's
cob, and Sorella. Going through the "Calendar," Cariboo is the
next most noteworthy animal we come across, for it will be
recollected he ran second to Canezou for the Goodwood Cup, having
been lent to make running for her. But it is almost needless to
add that, had Mr. Greville known him to be as good as he was, he
would have been started on his own account, in which case the cup
in all probability would have gone to Bruton Street instead of to
Knowsley. Continuing our track through the "Calendar," we light
on a better year for Mr. Greville, in 1852, when he had really
two good animals in Adine and Frantic. With the former, at York,
he had perhaps the best week he ever had in his life, having won
both the Yorkshire Oaks and Ebor Handicap with her, besides
beating Daniel O'Rourke with Frantic, who two months before had
carried off the Union Cup for him at Manchester. The following
year Adine did a good thing for him by winning the Goodwood
Stakes, and two years afterwards he again won that race with
Quince.

'Between Adine and Quince's years came Mr. Greville's last good
horse, Muscovite, whom he thought impossible to lose the
Metropolitan, and backed him accordingly. He was much put out,
however, by old John Day telling him he had no chance with his
mare Virago. At first Mr. Greville was incredulous at what John
told him, and made him acquainted with the form of Muscovite.
This made not the slightest impression on the old man, who merely
went on repeating Mr. Greville must back Virago for £500, and the
value of the advice was proved by the mare beating the horse very
easily. Muscovite's career for a time was a very unfortunate one,
for when in Dockeray's stable he was so "shinned" that his chance
for the Goodwood Stakes was completely out, and his trainer, who
could not discover the offender, and who was terribly annoyed at
the circumstance, begged he might be transferred to William
Dilly's, at Littleton. While there he was betted against for the
Caesarewitch in the same determined manner as he had been for his
other races, and when he arrived at Newmarket, and stood in Nat's
stables, which were perfectly impregnable, there was no cessation
in the opposition to him, although his trainer told everybody
that unless he was shot on the Heath, which he could not prevent,
he would walk in. This he did, and the crash he produced is still
fresh in the public recollection; but it is creditable to the
bookmaker who laid the most money against him to state that out
of £23,000 which he lost, he paid £16,000 down on the spot, an
act which procured him time for the remainder.

'Since Muscovite, who is now at the stud at Newmarket, Mr.
Greville has had no animal that has done a really good thing for
him, though Anfield made another determined attempt at the
Goodwood Stakes this year; and having, at Lord Ribblesdale's sale
of General Peel's horses, purchased Orlando, and added him to his
establishment at Hampton Court, he has turned his attention
perhaps more to breeding than racing. For some time his returns
were very large, but of late, from the age of Orlando, and from
getting some of his stock so small, they have diminished in
amount, although the old horse looks as fresh as a four-year-old,
and preserves all that fine symmetry for which he was remarkable
both in and out of training. Latterly Mr. Greville, from being
the confederate of Mr. Payne, has trained with Alec Taylor at
Fyfield; but with Godding he has generally two or three at
Newmarket.

'In turning to Mr. Greville in his private capacity we hardly
know how to treat him, for his is a nature that shrinks from
having his good deeds brought before the glare of the public eye.
No man, ever so high or low, we believe, ever sought his advice
and assistance in vain; and to no one individual, probably, have
so many and such various difficulties been submitted. Neither can
we remember a new trial or even an appeal demanded by those who
had sought his counsel. Beloved by his friends, and feared by his
opponents, Mr. Greville will ever be considered one of the most
remarkable men that have lent lustre to the English turf.'




                     END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.




                              INDEX.


Abercromby, Right Hon. James, proposed as Speaker, ii. 333;
  Master of the Mint, iii. 95; proposed as Speaker, 201; the
  Speakership, 204; elected Speaker, 213

Aberdeen, Earl of, Duchy of Lancaster, i. 124; motion about
  Belgium, ii. 238

Achmet Pacha, concludes a treaty with Russia, iii. 69

Adair, Right Hon. Sir Robert, sworn in Privy Councillor, i. 136

Addington, Henry Unwin, recalled from Madrid, iii. 14

Address, proposed amendment to the, iii. 217

Adelaide, Queen, ii. 7; at the Ancient Concert, 133; mobbed in
  the City, 141; audience of, about the crown, 179; coronation
  of, 190; Lord Howe, 338; yacht, iii. 99; return of, 125;
  illness of, 125; supposed to be with child, 198, 199, 201

Adrian's Villa, i. 377

Agar Ellis, _see_ Dover, Lord

Alava, General, and the Duke of Cumberland, iii. 275

Albani, Cardinal, influence of, i. 310; conversation with, 373;
  interview with, 380

Albano, i. 331

Alexander, Emperor of Russia, death of, i. 78; coronation of,
  described by Talleyrand, ii. 185

Allen, Dr., Bishop of Ely, iii. 363

Allen, John, iii. 135; unbelief of, 324

Althorp, Viscount, proposed as Chairman of the Finance
  Committee, i. 120; Chancellor of the Exchequer, ii. 66,
  introduces the budget, 114; leader of the House of
  Commons, 116, 200; letter to Attwood, 205, 206; hurries on the
  Irish Church Bill, 364; as Chancellor of the Exchequer, iii. 2;
  arrested by the Sergeant-at-Arms, 56; financial statement, 60;
  defects as leader, 62; summons a meeting of the supporters of
  Government, 92; resigns, 101; popularity of, 105; Chancellor of
  the Exchequer under Lord Melbourne, 113; succeeds his father as
  Earl Spencer, 140

Alvanley, Lord, duel with Morgan O'Connell, ii. 257; on Irish
  affairs, 348

America, dispute with France, iii. 322

Anglesey, Marquis of, recalled, i. 149; entry into
  Dublin, ii. 99; disputes with O'Connell, 106

Antwerp, threatened bombardment of, by the Dutch, ii. 321; French
  army marches to, 329

Arbuthnot, Right Hon. Charles, nickname 'Gosh,' i. 103;
  conversation with, on the Duke of Wellington's
  Administration, ii. 51; conversation with, at Oatlands, 170

Arbuthnot, Mrs., death of, iii. 116

Arkwright, Sir Richard, fortunes of, iii. 50

Arkwright, Mrs., visit to, iii. 49

Arms Bill, the, ii. 196

Arnold, Dr., proposed for a bishopric, iii. 325

Artevelde, Philip van, iii. 114; discussed at Holland House, 128

Ascot Races, 1831, ii. 147; 1833, 375

Attwood, chairman of the Birmingham Union, ii. 205, 206;
  proclamation against, 215

Auckland, Lord, Board of Trade, ii. 66; First Lord of the
  Admiralty, iii. 88, 113; on the state of affairs, 238; First
  Lord of the Admiralty in Lord Melbourne's second
  Administration, 256

Augustus, Prince, of Prussia, ii. 319

Austin, Mr. John, his work on Jurisprudence, iii. 138

Austin, Mr. Charles, ii. 306

Aylmer, Lord, recalled from Canada, iii. 394; the King's address
  to him, 395


Bachelor, valet to the Duke of York and to King George IV.,
  i. 142, 143; conversation with, ii. 30

Bagot, Lord, conduct to Lord Harrowby, ii. 253

Baiae, Bay of, i. 341

Baring, House of, ii. 53

Baring, Right Hon. Alexander, offered the Chancellorship of the
  Exchequer, ii. 299; proposes a compromise with the ex-Ministers,
  300

Baring, Francis, Chairman of the West India Committee, iii. 279

Barnes, Mr., editor of the 'Times,' ii. 97, 214; negotiations
  with, for supporting the Government, iii. 155, 156, 157; dines
  with Lord Lyndhurst, 167, 169; alarm of, at the prevailing
  spirit, 188

Barri, Madame du, ii. 219

Barry, Dr., sent to Sunderland, ii. 216; report on cholera, 217

Bath, Chapter of the Order of the, i. 254

Bathurst, Earl, Lord President, i. 124; death of, iii. 115;
  character of, 115

Bathurst, Countess, conversation with, ii. 62

Bathurst, Hon. William, appointed Clerk of the Council, ii. 61,
  86; delay in appointment of, 74; sworn in Clerk of the Council,
  94

Bathurst, Lieut.-Colonel Hon. Seymour, death of, iii. 79

Baudrand, General, ii. 33; reception of, 38

Bazaar, in Hanover Square, ii. 383

Beauclerc, Lord Aurelius, dances a country dance with the King,
  ii. 341

Belgian question, the, settlement of, ii. 314

Belgium, revolution in, ii. 41; affairs of, 44; unsettled state
  of, 69; deputation from, 160; fortresses of, 169; invaded by
  the Dutch, 175; French army refuses to leave, 181; end of
  hostilities with the Dutch, 184; Conference, 1832, 321

Belmore, Earl of, Governor of Jamaica, i. 140, 147

Belvoir Castle, iii. 46

Benson, Canon, sermon at the Temple Church, ii. 113

Bentinck, Right Hon. Lord William, desires to be appointed
  Governor-General of India, i. 59; address to the electors of
  Glasgow, iii. 339, 343; qualities of, 339; inscription on
  monument in honour of, 340

Bentinck, Lord Henry, quarrel with Sir Roger Gresley, ii. 148

Bergara, Convention of, iii. 259

Berri, Duchesse de, in La Vendée, ii. 322

Berry, Miss, iii. 58

Berryer, M., iii. 379; appearance of, 380

Best, Right Hon. William Draper, _see_ Lord Wynford

Bethnal Green, distress in, ii. 261

Bexley, Lord, Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster, i. 95

Bickersteth, Henry, _see_ Lord Langdale

Blacas, M. de, favourite of Louis XVIII., ii. 305

Black Book, the, ii. 79

Bloomfield, Sir Benjamin, dismissal of, i. 55

Blount, Rev. Mr., sermon, iii. 12

Body-snatchers, ii. 227

Bologna, i. 402

Bonaparte, Emperor Napoleon, in the 100 days, i. 24; campaigns
  of, described by Marshal Marmont, ii. 35

Bonaparte, Louis Napoleon, Strasburg attempt, iii. 381

Bonaparte, Joseph, at dinner at Lady Cork's, iii. 18

Bonaparte, Lucien, introduced to the Duke of Wellington, iii. 11;
  at dinner at Lady Cork's, 18

Boodle's, dinner at, ii. 124

Bosanquet, Right Hon. Sir John Bernard, sworn in a Privy
  Councillor, iii. 30; Judge of the King's Bench, 71

Boswell, 'Life of Johnson,' anecdotes lost, ii. 105

Boulogne, iii. 388

Bourbon, Duke de, death of, ii. 50

Bourmont, Marshal de, marches on Lisbon, iii. 25

Bourne, Right Hon. Sturges, Secretary of State for the Home
  Department, i. 95

Bowring, Dr., sent to Paris, ii. 219; satire of Moore on, 219;
  career of, 220

Bradshaw, Mrs., acting of, at Bridgewater House, ii. 353

Brescia, i. 412

Bretby, visit to, iii. 327; Chesterfield Papers, 327

Bridgewater House, dramatic performances at, iii. 352, 355

Bridgewater Election, iii. 398

Brighton, the Court at, 1832, ii. 334; races, 1835, iii. 284

Bristol, riots at, ii. 208

Broglie, Duke de. conduct of, iii. 386

Brooks's Club, iii. 320

Brougham, Lord, attack upon, in 'Quarterly Review,' i. 16; speech
  on the Queen's trial, 35; letter to the Queen, 57; character
  of, 117; qualities of, ii. 18, 33; appointed Lord High
  Chancellor, 65; discontent of, 65; social qualities of, 69;
  anecdote of, 106; quarrel with Sugden, 106; correspondence with
  Southey on rewards to literary men, 112; speech on Chancery
  Reform, 118; domestic kindness of, 120; origin of
  representation of Yorkshire, 125; as Lord Chancellor, 128; at
  the Horse Guards, 129; as a judge, 145; at dinner at Hanbury's
  brewery, 148; at the British Museum, 149; claims the old Great
  Seal, 188; intention of sitting at the Privy Council, 223;
  speech on the Russian Loan, 244; quarrel with Sugden, 312;
  anecdote of, 314; Bill for creating a new Court of Appeal, 342;
  Bill objected to, 344; Judicial Committee of the Privy Council
  Bill, 365; sits on the case of Drax _v._ Grosvenor, 370; as
  Chancellor, iii. 22; anecdotes of Queen Caroline, 36; and Sir
  William Horne, 67; meets Sir Thomas Denman in Bedfordshire, 71;
  judicial changes, 71; defence of himself, 72; apology for, 76;
  speech on Lord Wynford's Bill for the observance of the
  Sabbath, 83; on the Pluralities Bill, 86; on the Irish Church,
  94; and the 'Times,' 96; Lord Chancellor in Lord Melbourne's
  Administration, 113; and Lord Westmeath, 119; conduct in the
  Westmeath case, 119, 124; versatility of, 121; lines applied
  to, 121; Greek epigrams, 121; ambition of, 122; in Scotland,
  133; communicates to the 'Times' the fall of Lord Melbourne's
  first Administration, 145; resigns the Great Seal, 156; takes
  leave of the Bar, 156; asks for the Chief Baronship, 157;
  anecdote, 232; conduct of, in the case of Swift _v._ Kelly,
  260, 267; on the London University Charter, 261; judgment in
  the case of Swift _v._ Kelly, 274; on the Corporation Bill,
  286; violence in the House of Lords, 303; illness of, 329; and
  Macaulay, 337, 338; at Queen Victoria's first Council, 408

Brummel, 'Beau,' i. 282

Brussels, disturbances at, ii. 40

Buccleuch, Duke of, subscription to election expenses, iii. 182

Budget, the, 1831, ii. 113

Buller, James, death of, ii. 59

Bülow, Baron von, on English affairs, iii. 211

Bulwer, Sir Edward Lytton, iii. 348

Bunsen, Baron, i. 315; career of, 327; on Roman affairs, 389

Burdett, Sir Francis, returned for Westminster, 1837, iii. 398

Burghersh, Lord, at Florence, i. 299; amateur opera, 301

Burghersh, Lady, intercedes for a prisoner at the Old Bailey, ii.
  85

Burghley, party at, iii. 53

Burke, Right Hon. Edmund, writings of, iii. 209; compared with
  Mackintosh, 314

Burke, Sir G., conversation with, on O'Connell, ii. 111

Buxton, Fowell, dinner at the brewery, ii. 148

Byng, Right Hon. George, Lord of the Treasury, iii. 95

Byron, Lord, Moore's Life of, i. 272; character of, 273


Cambridge, H.R.H. the Duchess of, reception of, i. 2

Cambridge, University of, petition for the admission of
  Dissenters to the, iii. 72, 75

Campbell, Sir John, Solicitor-General, ii. 333; Attorney-General,
  iii. 141

Canada, affairs in, iii. 350

Canning, Right Hon. Sir Stratford, Ambassador at St. Petersburg,
  ii. 352, 357; anecdote of, iii. 39; offered the
  Governor-Generalship of Canada, 234

Canning, Right Hon. George, Foreign Secretary, i. 55;
  correspondence with the King on taking office, 59; forms an
  Administration (1827), 93, 95; death of, 103; anecdotes of,
  104; industrious habits of, 106; memoirs of, 263, 272; despatch
  in verse, 326; sagacity of, ii. 42; conversation with the King,
  102; correspondence with the Duke of Wellington, 103; coldness
  to the Duke of Wellington, 103; anecdote of, 125; negotiation
  with the Whigs, 170; influence over Lord Liverpool, 172; in
  favour with the King, 172; on Reform, iii. 135; and King George
  IV., 137

Canning, Lady, visit to, ii. 101; authorship of pamphlet, iii. 40

Canning, Mr. Charles, offered a Lordship of the Treasury, iii.
  202

Cannizzaro, Duchess of, iii. 11; crowns the Duke of Wellington,
  406

Canterbury, Archbishop of, indecision of the, ii. 250, 262, 263;
  importance of support of the, 252, 253

Canterbury, Viscount, declines to go to Canada, iii. 234

Capo di Monte, i. 335

Capua, i. 360

Cardinals, the, i. 309

Carlisle, Earl of, Lord Privy Seal, i. 95; iii. 88

Carlists, the, in Spain, iii. 66

Carlos, Don, in London, iii. 98

Carlow election, iii. 348

Carnarvon, Earl of, refuses to move the address in the House of
  Lords, iii. 202

Caroline, Queen, return of, i. 28; trial of, 31, 35; anecdote of,
  iii. 37

Carvalho, Minister of Finance to Dom Pedro, iii. 93

Catacombs, the, _see_ Rome

Catholic emancipation, i. 163, 172, 174

Catholic Relief Bill, excitement concerning the, i. 180; debates
  on, _see_ Lords and Commons

Cato Street Conspiracy, the, i. 26

Cayla, Madame du, i. 71; dinner at the Duke of Wellington's, 214;
  Béranger's verses on, 215; favourite of Louis XVIII., ii. 306

Cenis, the Mont, i. 287

Champollion, Jean François, death of, ii. 307

Chapeau de Paille, the, purchase of, ii. 125

Chapel, near Holland House, unable to be consecrated, iii. 200

Charles I., King, head of, discovered at Windsor, ii. 168;
  executioner of, iii. 132

Charles X., King, of France, arrival of in England, ii. 31; at
  Lulworth Castle, 33; off Cowes, 34

Charlotte, Queen, illness of, i. 2, 3

Charlotte, H.R.H. the Princess, anecdotes of, ii. 319

Chartres, H.R.H. the Duc de, arrival of, i. 208

Chatham, Earl of, death of, iii. 316

Chatsworth, hospitality at, i. 237; charade at, 238; party at,
  ii. 51

Chesterfield Papers, the, iii. 327

Chobert, the 'Fire King,' i. 276

Cholera, the, in Russia, ii. 57; account of, 150; preventive
  measures against, 154, 216; effect on trade of, 156; spread of,
  161; alarm about, 169; at Berlin, 192; at Sunderland, 208, 210;
  at Marseilles, 221; on the decline, 224; near Edinburgh, 240;
  in London, 258, 259; in Bethnal Green, 261; account of, 278;
  diminution of, 285; in Paris, 287; alarm in London, 309, 311

Christina, Queen, of Spain, iii. 66, 72; reported flight of, 360;
  courage of, 365

Christmas trees, introduced by Princess Lieven at Panshanger, i.
  259

Church Bill, the, Committee on, iii. 199

Church Reform, iii. 206

City, the, address to the King, ii. 126; illumination in, 140;
  election, 1835, iii. 184, 186, 187; anxiety in the money-market,
  373, 376

Civil List, the, excess of expenditure on, i. 253; for debates
  on, _see_ Commons, House of

Clanricarde, Marquis of, sworn in a Privy Councillor, ii. 78

Clarence, H.R.H. the Duke of, Lord High Admiral, i. 95; removal
  of, from the office of Lord High Admiral, 138, 140. _See_
  William IV.

Cobbett, William, trial of, ii. 158; returned for Oldham, 335;
  takes his seat, 351; and Sir Robert Peel, 373

Cochrane, Lord, at Florence, i. 301; villa near Florence, 302

Codrington, Sir E., interview with the Duke of Wellington, i. 179

Coercion Bill, the, introduced, ii. 359

Colchester Election, iii. 112

Commons, House of; Alien Bill, i. 1; Dr. Halloran's petition, 14;
  debate on grant to the Duke of York, 18; debates on Queen
  Caroline, 30, 32, 38; Small Notes Bill, 79; debates on Catholic
  Relief Bill, 91, 133, 166, 191; division on Catholic Relief
  Bill, 185; Catholic Relief Bill read a third time, 203; Regency
  and Civil List, ii. 45; debate on the Evesham election, 25;
  debate on the Civil List, 110; announcement of the Reform Bill,
  110; Pension List, 111; debate on Ireland, 112; Budget of 1831,
  113; proposed reductions, 118; introduction of the first Reform
  Bill, 121; debates on the Reform Bill, 123, 125; debate on the
  Timber duties, 130; debate on the Reform Bill, 131; division on
  the Reform Bill, 132; Government defeated, 135; scene in the
  House, 135; second reading of the Reform Bill, 156; Wine
  duties, 160; Reform Bill, Schedule A, 170; second Reform Bill,
  227; debate on, and second reading of the second Reform Bill
  carried, 228; Reform Bill supported by the Irish Members, 239;
  division on the Russian Loan, 240; division on the sugar
  duties, 267; Reform Bill passed, 270; debates, 296; violent
  scene in debate on petition of the City of London, 299; Irish
  Tithe question, 308; debate on, 309; debate on the Address,
  353; Irish Church Reform, 354; aspect of the reformed House,
  360; debate on Slave Emancipation, 371; vote of confidence in
  the Ministers, 376; division on the Irish Church Bill, 381;
  vote against sinecures, iii. 13; division on Apprenticeship
  Clause of West India Bill, 16; disorganised state of the House,
  17; Pension List, 60; business of the House, 61; debate on the
  Corn Laws, 68; debate on admission of Dissenters to the
  University, 75; debate on Repeal of the Union, 80; Pension
  List, 80; debate on Portugal, 82; Poor Law Bill, 83; debate on
  Irish Tithe Bill, 98, 99; gallery for reporters, 205; debate on
  the Speakership, 214; debate on the Address, 221; debate and
  division on amendment to the Address, 223; Malt Tax, 224;
  debate on appointment of Lord Londonderry, 225; Dissenters'
  Marriage Bill, 230; Government beaten on Chatham election, 234;
  state of parties in the House, 234; debate and division on
  Irish Church question, 240; uproar in the House, 243;
  Government defeated on Irish Tithe Bill, 246; debate on Irish
  Church Bill, 281; position of the House, 288, 291; conflict
  with the House of Lords, 225; debate and division on the
  amendment to the Address, 334; effect of division, 336;
  Opposition defeated, 347; division, 359; Irish Corporation
  Bill, 388; insult to Lord Lyndhurst, 389; debates on Irish
  Tithe Bill, 391; abandonment of the appropriation clauses, 393

Como, i. 414

Conroy, Sir John, ii. 190; iii. 3

Conservative Club, dinner at, ii. 327; speeches, 327

Constantine, the Grand Duke, accident to, i. 259; death of, ii.
  164

Convention signed between France, England, and Holland, ii. 375

Conyngham, Marquis of, Postmaster-General, iii. 88, 113

Conyngham, Marchioness of, i. 46; wears a Crown jewel, 48; Court
  intrigues, 207

Conyngham, Lord Francis, i. 50

Coprogli, History of the Grand Vizier, iii. 115

Cornelius, painter, ii. 149

Coronation, the, of William IV., decided on, ii. 156;
  preparations for, 157, 163, 165; estimates for, 181; disputes
  over the arrangements for, 187

Cottenham, Lord, Lord High Chancellor, iii. 328

Cotton, Sir Willoughby, suppresses the insurrection in Jamaica,
  ii. 262; on affairs in Jamaica, 380

Council, Clerk of the, Mr. Greville sworn in, i. 44; after the
  accession of William IV., ii. 12; Lord Grey's Administration
  sworn in, 71; for the proclamation against rioters, 73;
  recorder's report in, 85; clerks of the, 87; scene at Council
  for a new Great Seal, 188

Council, Privy: suttee case before the, ii. 307; embargo on Dutch
  ships, 343; meeting of the, on the London University petition,
  iii. 80; counter petition of Oxford and Cambridge, 80

Council, Cabinet: the first of Lord Melbourne's Administration,
  iii. 120; the first of Sir Robert Peel's Administration, 174

Covent Garden Theatrical Fund Dinner, i. 205

Coventry, glove trade, ii. 224

Cowley, Abraham, lines from 'Ode to Solitude,' ii. 272

Cowper, Earl, at Panshanger, ii. 229

Cowper, Countess, at Panshanger, ii. 229

Cowper, William, Life of, by Southey, iii. 134

Cradock, Colonel, sent to Charles X., ii. 37

Crampton, Sir Philip, Irish story, i. 243

Craven, Earl of, disperses a mob, ii. 77; on the proposed new
  Peers, 232

Craven, General the Hon. Berkeley, suicide of, iii. 350

Crawford, William, member for the City of London, iii. 188

Creevey, Mr., i. 235

Croker, Right Hon. John Wilson, edition of 'Boswell's Life of
  Johnson,' ii. 105; reviews lost, 106

Cumberland, H.R.H. the Duke of, opposition to Catholic Relief
  Bill, i. 180; intrigues at Court, 222; insults Lady Lyndhurst,
  222, 223; quarrel with Lord Lyndhurst, 224; disputes concerning
  the office of 'Gold Stick,' ii. 5, 21

Cumberland, H.R.H. the Duchess of, i. 2

Cuvier, Baron, death of, ii. 307


Dalberg, Duke de, letter on European affairs, ii. 44

Dawson, Right Hon. George Robert, speech on Catholic
  Emancipation, i. 138, 200; sworn in a Privy Councillor, ii. 71

De Cazes, Duke, favourite of Louis XVIII., ii. 305; Ambassador to
  the Court of St. James, 306

Dedel, M., Dutch Minister at the Court of St. James, iii, 32

Denbigh, Earl of, Chamberlain to Queen Adelaide, ii. 342; sworn
  in Privy Councillor, 352

Denman, Lord, correspondence with the King, i. 156; sworn in a
  Privy Councillor, ii. 329; Lord Chief Justice, 330; qualities
  of, 331; meeting of, with Lord Brougham, in Bedfordshire, iii.
  71; raised to the Peerage, 74

Derby Dilly, the, iii. 236, 237, 253

De Ros, Lord, in Rome, i. 368

De Ros, Colonel, the Hon. Arthur John Hill, death of, i. 81;
  character of, 82

Dickenson, Captain, trial of, by court-martial, i. 235

Diebitsch, Marshal, death of, from cholera, ii. 154

Dino, Duc de, arrest of the, i. 255

Dino, Duchesse de, ii. 57; on the state of France, 195

Discontent throughout the country, ii. 108

Disraeli, Benjamin, projects for sitting in Parliament, iii. 170

Dissenters' Marriage Bill, iii. 207, 230. For debates on, _see_
  Commons, House of

Dorsetshire election, 1831, ii. 203, 207; crime in, iii. 77

Dover, Lord, resigns the Woods and Forests, ii. 109; created a
  Peer, 150; death of, iii. 4; character of, 4; Life of
  Frederick II., 6; book on the Man in the Iron Mask, 6

Down, deanery of, iii. 70

Drax _v._ Grosvenor, case of, ii. 224; lunacy case, 369; decision
  on, 375; final meeting on, 377

Drummond, Henry, mission to the Archbishop of York, iii. 333

Dublin Police Bill, iii. 333

Dudley, Earl of, Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, i. 95,
  124; dinner to Marshal Marmont, ii. 38; eccentricity of, 271,
  272

'Duke of Milan,' quotation from the, i. 178

Dulcken, Madam, performs before the Judicial Committee, iii. 325

Duncannon, Viscount, iii. 104; called to the House of Lords, and
  Secretary of State, 109; sworn in, 112; Home Secretary, 113; on
  O'Connell, 117; at a fire in Edward Street, 117; on the state
  of affairs, 196; Commissioner of Woods and Forests under Lord
  Melbourne, 256

Duncombe, Hon. Thomas Slingsby, maiden speech of, i. 128;
  petition from Barnet, ii. 255; guilty of libel, iii. 9; at
  Hillingdon, 123

Durham, Earl of, quarrel with Lady Jersey, ii. 119; influence
  over Lord Grey, 222; attack on Lord Grey at a Cabinet dinner,
  226; rudeness of, 269; return from Russia, 333; violence of,
  333; created an earl, 365

Dwarris, Sir Fortunatus, dinner at the house of, ii. 359


East, Sir E. Hyde, sworn in a Privy Councillor, ii. 155

Eboli, Duchesse d', ball at Naples, i. 335

Ebrington, Viscount, moves a vote of confidence in the
  Government, ii. 202, 204

Ebury, Lord, sworn in a Privy Councillor, ii. 78

Egremont, Earl of, at Petworth, ii. 336; wealth of, 337;
  hospitality to the poor, iii. 84

Eldon, Earl of, audience of King George IV., i. 197; speech at
  Apsley House, ii. 198; career of, 378; tribute to, iii. 42

Election, General, in 1830, ii. 20, 29; in 1831, 139, 141, 142,
  145; in 1832, 335; in 1835, iii. 184, 189, 191, 193; results
  of, 195; in the counties, 198; result, 201

Eliot, Lord, return of, from Spain, iii. 259; conversation with
  Louis Philippe, 259

Ellenborough, Earl of, Lord Privy Seal, i. 124; letter to Sir
  John Malcolm, 271; on West India affairs, ii. 350; on Egypt,
  351; speech on admission of Dissenters to the University, iii.
  73

Ellesmere, Earl of, Irish Secretary, i. 146

Ellice, Right Hon. Edward, iii. 104; and the Colchester election,
  112; Secretary for War, 113; in Paris, 379

Elliot, Frederic, letter from Canada, iii. 325

Epsom races, 1831, ii. 143; in 1833, 373

Erskine, Right Hon. Thomas, sworn in a Privy Councillor, ii. 223;
  Chief Judge in Bankruptcy, 223

Escars, Duchesse d', at a party given by the Duke of Wellington,
  i. 214

Este, Sir Augustus d', behaviour of, ii. 194

Esterhazy, Prince Paul, conversation with, ii. 40; on Belgian
  affairs, 189; on the state of England, iii. 32; on affairs in
  Europe, 370; conversation with, 373

Europe, state of, ii. 126; in 1831, 187; in 1836, iii. 370

Evans, General de Lacy, iii. 265; reported death of, 359

Evans, the incendiary, arrest of, ii. 70

Exeter, Bishop of, correspondence with Lord Melbourne, ii. 97;
  interview with Lord Grey, 205; talents of, 287; ambition of,
  289


Falck, Baron, ii. 15, 41

Ferdinand, Emperor, of Austria, iii. 374

Fergusson, Right Hon. Cutlar, Judge Advocate, iii. 95

Ferrara, i. 405

Fieschi conspiracy, iii. 286

Fingall, Earl of, created a Baron of the United Kingdom, ii. 150

Finsbury election, 1834, Radical returned, iii. 100

Fitzclarence, Colonel George, _see_ Munster, Earl of

Fitzclarence, Lord Frederick, resigns appointment at the Tower,
  ii. 362

Fitzclarence, Lord Adolphus, picture of, ii. 179

Fitzclarence, Lord Augustus, at Ascot, ii. 147; picture of, 176

Fitzclarence, Lady Augusta, marriage of, iii. 363

Fitzgerald, Right Hon. Vesey, i. 150

Fitzherbert, Mrs., death of, iii. 396; documents of, 396

Flahault, Madame de, anecdotes of Princess Charlotte, ii. 319;
  _salon_ of, in Paris, iii. 381

Fleury, Cardinal, ii. 347

Florence, i. 299; sights of, 300; society at, 302; sculpture,
  300, 301; pictures, 303; Grand Duke, 303

Foley, Lord, sworn in a Privy Councillor, ii. 84; Lord-Lieutenant
  of Worcestershire, 84; at St. James's, 297

Fonblanque, Albany, iii. 348

Forester, Right Hon. Colonel Cecil, resigns his appointment as
  Groom of the Bedchamber, ii. 118

Forfar election, 1835, iii. 197

Fox, Mrs. Lane, accompanies the Prince of Orange to Gravesend,
  ii. 133; receives the Cabinet Ministers, iii. 140

Fox, Right Hon. Charles James, described by Talleyrand, ii. 344

Fox, W. J., Unitarian minister, sermon, iii. 43

France, state of affairs in, i. 284; appearance of the country,
  287; impending crisis in 1830, 369; events in 1830, ii. 17;
  revolution, 19; Duke of Orleans ascends the throne, 26;
  political prospects, 26; reconstruction of the Constitution,
  28; army ordered to Belgium, 178; army in Belgium, 181; seizure
  of Portuguese ships, 182, 184; republican tendencies of, 187;
  state of the country, 1831, 195; weakness of the Government of
  Louis Philippe, 322; dispute with America, iii. 322; state of
  the country, 382

Francis, Sir Philip, handwriting of, i. 234

Franklin, Benjamin, ii. 185

Franz Joseph, Archduke, iii. 374

Frascati, convent at, i. 305; dinner at, 305; visit to, 390


Gallatin, Albert, i. 257

Gambier, Lord, proxy of, ii. 286

Garrick, David, anecdotes of ii. 316

Gell, Sir William, at Rome, i. 372, 375

Geneva, i. 415

Genoa, i. 292; palaces, 293, 295; churches, 294; tomb of Andrew
  Doria, 296

George III., death of, i. 23; will, 64; jewels and property, 65;
  dislike of the Duke of Richmond, iii. 129

George IV., illness of, i. 23; at the Pavilion, 49; interview
  with, 91; health and habits of, 143; violent dislike to the
  Catholic Relief Bill, 153, 181; character of, 155; personal
  habits of, 189; interview with the Lord Chancellor, the Duke of
  Wellington, and Sir Robert Peel, 201; health of, 206; racing
  interests of, 212; anecdotes concerning, 216; eyesight
  affected, 233, 236; courage of, 236; conduct in reference to
  Mr. Denman, 250; illness of, 368; death of, 417; funeral of,
  ii. 4; sale of wardrobe, 23; details of last illness, 30;
  anecdotes concerning, 189

Gérard, Marshal, reported resignation of, ii. 45; ordered to
  Belgium, 178

Gibson, John, R.A., at Rome, i. 383

Gladstone, William Ewart, West India Committee, iii. 280

Glenelg, Lord, President of the Board of Trade, i. 124; Board of
  Control, ii. 66, iii. 113; Colonial Secretary in Lord
  Melbourne's second Administration, 256; and the King, 276

'Glenfinlas' performed at Bridgewater House, iii. 353, 355

Glengall, Earl of, comedy by the, i. 249

Glengall, Countess of, ii. 85

Gloucester, H.R.H. the Duke of, ii. 8

Goderich, Viscount, Small Notes Bill, i. 79; Secretary of State
  for Colonial Affairs and War, 95; sent for by the King, 107;
  scene at Windsor, 108; Administration of, formed, 108;
  resignation of, 115; returns to office, 116; Ministry
  dissolved, 120; Colonial Secretary, ii. 66; Lord Privy Seal,
  365; created an earl, 367; invested with the Order of the
  Garter, 367

Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von, death of, ii. 307

Goodwood, ii. 182; in 1833, iii. 20

Gorhambury, party at, ii. 188

'Goriot, Le Père,' iii. 378

Goulburn, Right Hon. Henry, Chancellor of the Exchequer, i. 124

Graham, Right Hon. Sir James, First Lord of the Admiralty, ii.
  66; elevation of, 90; remarks on, 91; resignation of, iii. 88;
  declines to join the Peel Administration, 176; conservative
  spirit of, 249; on the crisis of 1835, 249; joins the
  Opposition, 272

Grange, The, attacked by a mob, ii. 68

Grant, Right Hon. Charles, _see_ Glenelg, Lord

Granville, Earl, Ambassador in Paris, iii. 385

Granville, Countess, i. 10; quarrel with M. Thiers, iii. 380

Greece, policy of the English Government towards, i. 255

Greenwich, dinner at, iii. 1

Grenville, Thomas, conduct during the riots of 1780, iii. 129

Gresley, Sir Roger, quarrel with Lord H. Bentinck, ii. 148

Greville, Charles, sen., death of, ii. 318

Greville, Mrs., 'Ode to Indifference,' ii. 319

Greville, Algernon, private secretary to the Duke of Wellington,
  iii. 163

Grey, Earl, hostility to the Government, i. 100; forms an
  Administration, 1830, ii. 64, 66; First Lord of the Treasury,
  66; at dinner at Lord Sefton's, 69; nepotism of, 78; character
  of, 88; relations with Lord Lyndhurst, 88; lays the Reform Bill
  before the King, 109; weakness of Government in the House of
  Commons, 116; remarks on Administration of, 137; invested with
  the Order of the Garter, 146; at dinner at Hanbury's Brewery,
  149; attacked on his foreign policy, 178; on Belgian affairs,
  178; attacked by Lord Durham, 226; proposed new Peers, 230;
  altered conduct of, 232; reluctance to make new Peers, 247;
  conversation with, 248; interview with Lord Harrowby and Lord
  Wharncliffe, 259; minute of compromise with Lord Harrowby and
  Lord Wharncliffe, 260; speech on Ancona, 269; speech at the
  close of the Reform debate, 288; continued efforts for a
  compromise, 291; Government defeated in committee, 293;
  resignation of Administration of, 294; resumes office with his
  colleagues, 300; remarks on the members of the Administration
  of, 322; embarrassment of Government, 369; instance of
  readiness of, iii. 10; on Portuguese affairs, 21; compared with
  the Duke of Wellington, 73; changes in the Administration of,
  88, 90, 91; situation of, in the crisis of 1834, 91; letter to
  Lord Ebrington, 92; weakness of the Government, 97; resignation
  of, 101; refuses the Privy Seal, 112; desires to retire, 124;
  dinner to, at Edinburgh, 135; events subsequent to retirement
  of, 145; intrigue, 145; conservative spirit of, 249; audience
  of the King, 251; dissatisfaction of, 352

Grey, Sir Charles, Governor of Jamaica, sworn in a Privy
  Councillor, iii. 271

Grote, George, returned for the City of London, iii. 188

Guizot, Monsieur, reported resignation of, ii. 45; eminence of,
  iii. 379

Gully, Mr., account of, ii. 335; returned for Pontefract, 336

Gunpowder Plot, papers relating to, i. 161


Haddington, Earl of, Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland, iii. 181

Halford, Sir Henry, report on the cholera, ii. 137

Hampden, Dr. Regius Professor of Divinity at Oxford, iii. 341,
  342

Hanbury's Brewery, dinner at, ii. 148

Happiness, reflections on, iii. 293

Hardinge, Right Hon. Sir Henry, on the prospects of the Tory
  Government, iii. 167; on the King and Lord Melbourne, 168

Harrowby, Earl of, Lord President, i. 95; speech on Reform, ii.
  206; interview with Lord Grey, 224; circular to the Peers, 242,
  248; interview with Lord Grey, 259; discussions on letter of,
  262; letter shown to Lord Grey, 264; the 'Times' on the letter
  of, 264, 265; patriotic conduct of, 275; declines to vote on
  Schedule A, 281; character of, iii. 52; subscription to
  election expenses, 182

Harrowby, Countess of, iii. 52

Hartwell, visit to, ii. 345

Harvey, Whittle, committee, iii. 112; speech of, at Southwark,
  188

Harwich election, 1835, iii. 186

Health, formation of a board of, ii. 154

Henry II., King, and Thomas à Becket, iii. 130

Henry VIII., King, coffin of, found at Windsor, ii. 168

Herbert, Sydney, Secretary to the Board of Control, iii. 194

Herculaneum, i. 349

'Hernani,' ii. 154

Herries, Right Hon. John Charles, scene at Council, i. 108;
  discussions on appointment of, 110; ill-will of, towards his
  colleagues, 121; Master of the Mint, 124

Hertford, Marchioness of, funeral of, iii. 79

Hess, Captain, ii. 319, 320

Heurteloup, Baron, before the Judicial Committee, iii. 332

Heythrop, riot at, ii. 77

Hill, Mr., Irish members' squabble, iii. 55

Hobhouse, Right Hon. Sir John Cam, speech on the Reform Bill, ii.
  123; Secretary of War, 243; resigns Irish Secretaryship and
  seat for Westminster, ii. 368; on the state of affairs, iii.
  195; Board of Control, in Lord Melbourne's second
  Administration, 256

Holland, the King of, invades Belgium, ii. 175; state of, 200;
  conduct of the King of, 314; the King refuses to give up
  Antwerp, 321, 329; obstinacy of the King, 324; bankrupt
  condition of, iii. 32

Holland, Lord, at Panshanger, ii. 47; Duchy of Lancaster, iii.
  113; anecdotes related by, 131; on Reform, 135; on Mr. Canning,
  135; anecdotes, 335; on Mr. Fox, 335; contempt for the Tory
  party, 336

Holland, Lady, fancies of, ii. 331; and Spencer Perceval, iii.
  331

Holland House, dinner at, ii. 245; conversation at, 316; Allen
  and Macaulay, 317; sketch of, 331; conversation at, iii. 127,
  129; literary criticisms, 130; Lord Melbourne's conversation,
  131; dinner at, 132; news of the fall of Lord Melbourne's
  Administration, 147; party spirit at, 192

Holmes boroughs, ii. 140

Hook, Theodore, improvisation of, iii. 119, 197; singing of, 197

Home, Sir William, Attorney-General, ii. 333; and Lord Brougham,
  iii. 67

Hortense, Queen, at Frascati, i. 305

Horton, Wilmot, lectures at the Mechanics' Institute, ii. 97

Howe, Earl, dismissal of, ii. 203; Queen's Chamberlain, 319; and
  Queen Adelaide, 331; correspondence about the Chamberlainship,
  339

Howick, Viscount, Under-secretary, ii. 78; in office, iii. 254;
  civility of the King to, 255; Secretary of War, 256; acrimony
  of, 312; interview with Spencer Perceval, 330; on the position
  of parties, 360

Hudson, Sir James, page of honour, ii. 339

Hume, John Deacon, Assistant-Secretary to the Board of Trade, i.
  223; ii. 49

Hume, Joseph, extreme Radical views of, ii. 361; speech on the
  Orangemen, iii. 344; deputation to Lord Melbourne, 357

'Hunchback, The,' ii. 285

Hunt, Henry, speech of, ii. 112; speech of, against the Reform
  Bill, 134

Huskisson, Right Hon. William, President of the Board of Trade,
  i. 95; dispute in the Cabinet, 120; joins the new Government,
  122; Colonial Secretary, 124; resignation of, 131; Lord
  Melbourne's opinion of, ii. 46; death of, 47; character of, 49;
  funeral of, 51


Incendiarism in the country, ii. 84

Ireland, trials in, i. 239; dissatisfaction in, ii. 76;
  unpopularity of Government changes in, 89; state of, 112, 114;
  education in, 267, 271; tithes, 309; Church difficulties in,
  323

Irish Church, abuses in, iii. 9; the Irish Church Bill dangerous
  to the Government, 86; differences in the Cabinet, 89;
  difficulties of the Irish Church question, 240, 253; opinions
  of Lord Melbourne on the, 269. For debates on the Irish Church
  Bill, _see_ Lords, House of, and Commons, House of

Irish Tithe Bill, thrown out, iii. 117; divisions on the, 246;
  conduct of the Government, 298; difficulties of, 353, 354;
  abandonment of the Appropriation Clause, 355

Irving, Edward, service in chapel, iii. 40; the unknown tongues,
  41; sermon of, 41; interview with Lord Melbourne, 129

Irving, Washington, i. 249

Istria, Duchesse d', beauty of, iii. 381


Jacquemont's Letters, iii. 115

Jamaica, insurrection in, ii. 262; Mr. Greville, Secretary of the
  Island of, 349; petition to the King, 352; affairs of, 352;
  anecdote of a slave, 359; opinion of Sir Willoughby Cotton,
  380; office of Secretary to the Island of, threatened, iii.
  266, 268, 275; secured, 279

Jebb, Judge, charge of, at O'Connell's trial, ii. 109

Jeffrey, Lord, and Professor Leslie, iii. 44

Jersey, Countess of, character of, i. 12; party at the house of,
  ii. 64; quarrel with Lord Durham, 119; correspondence with Lord
  Brougham, 126

Jockey Club, dinner given by the King to the, 1828, i. 154; in
  1829, 211

'John Bull,' the, newspaper, ii. 97

Johnson, Dr., anecdotes of, ii. 316

Johnstone, Right Hon. Sir Alexander, sworn in a Privy Councillor,
  iii. 27, 30; at the Judicial Committee, 125

Jones Loyd, Mr., iii. 188

Jones, 'Radical,' interview with Lord Wharncliffe, ii. 200

Judicial Committee of the Privy Council, Bill for the
  establishment of the, iii. 21; meeting to make regulations for
  the, 35; first sitting of the, 38; working of the, 205


Kelly, Mrs., adventures of her daughter, i. 379, 383; case before
  the Privy Council, iii. 259, 261, 266, 267; judgment, 274

Kemble, Charles, and his family, iii. 260

Kemble, Miss Fanny, i. 240, ii. 129; tragedy by, 270; in the
  'Hunchback,' 285

Kempt, Right Hon. Sir James, Master-General of the Ordnance,
  sworn in a Privy Councillor, ii. 84

Kent, H.R.H. the Duchess of, disputes in the Royal Family, ii.
  190; and the Duke of Wellington, 190; the Regency Bill, 191;
  salutes to, iii. 3; at Burghley, 315; quarrels with the King,
  366; scene at Windsor, 367; answer to the address of the City
  of London, 399; squabble with the King, 400

Kenyon, Lord, speech at Apsley House, ii. 198

Kinnaird, Lord, created a Baron of the United Kingdom, ii. 150

Klopstock, Friedrich Gottlieb, anecdote of, iii. 130

Knatchbull, Right Hon. Sir Edward, joins the Peel Government,
  iii. 176, 177; attack on, 226

Knighton, Sir William, i. 72; influence with the King, 99, 144;
  behaviour of, during the King's illness, ii. 174


Lafayette, Marquis de, resignation of, ii. 99

La Ferronays, M. de, French Ambassador at Rome, i. 307; on the
  accession of the Emperor Nicholas, 373; on French politics,
  368; civility of, 380, 381; on French affairs, 393, 395

La Granja, revolution of, iii. 364, 365

'Lalla Rookh,' at Bridgewater House, iii. 353

Lamb, Sir Frederick, ii. 94; reported letter to the King of
  France from the Duke of Wellington, 94

Lambeth Palace, restoration of, ii. 34

Lancashire election, 1835, iii. 198

Langdale, Lord, reply to Lord Brougham, iii. 81; declines the
  Solicitor-Generalship, 141; peerage, 328; Master of the Rolls,
  328

Lansdowne, Marquis of, Secretary of State for the Home
  Department, i. 95; Lord President, ii. 66; dinner to name the
  sheriffs, 109; on the Reform Bill, 131; and Lord Brougham, 347;
  Lord President in both of the Administrations of Lord
  Melbourne, iii. 113, 256

La Roncière, case of, iii. 202

Laval, M. de, at Apsley House, ii. 15

Law, History of English, iii. 114

Lawrence, Sir Thomas, early genius of, i. 256; death of, 263;
  character of, 264; funeral of, 268; engagement of, to the
  Misses Siddons, iii. 50

Leach, Right Hon. Sir John, disappointed of the Woolsack, ii. 68;
  in the case of Drax _v._ Grosvenor, 378

Leigh, Colonel George, ii. 189

Leinster, Duke of, sworn in a Privy Councillor, ii. 155

Leitrim, Earl of, created a Baron of the United Kingdom, ii. 150

Le Marchant, Denis, at Stoke, iii. 21

Lemon, Robert, F.S.A., Deputy Keeper of the State Papers, iii. 44

Lennard, John Barrett, Chief Clerk of the Privy Council Office,
  ii. 370

Leopold, King, i. 22; desires to ascend the throne of Greece,
  265; anxiety to ascend the throne of Belgium, ii. 153; accepts
  the throne of Belgium, 158; starts for Belgium, 167; proposes
  to the Princess Louise of France, 168; in Belgium, 177; want of
  confidence in, 177; cold reception of, at Windsor, iii. 370

Leuchtenberg, Duke of, at Havre, iii. 33; marriage of, 33; letter
  to Lord Palmerston, 34; arrival of, 195

Leveson, Lord Francis, _see_ Ellesmere, Earl of

Levee, iii. 213

Lewis, Matthew Gregory, ('Monk' Lewis), journals and voyages to
  the West Indies, ii. 382; anecdote of, iii. 2; agreement with
  Mr. Murray for the Journal, 8

Lichfield, Earl of, at Runton, iii. 51

Lichfield Cathedral, iii. 327

Lieven, Prince, recalled, iii. 87

Lieven, Princess, character of, i. 15; attacks Lord Grey, ii.
  261; on the Belgian question, 266; conversation with, 322;
  renews her friendship with the Duke of Wellington, 325;
  grievances of, 351; interference of, 358; diplomatic
  difficulties, 357; reception of, at St. Petersburg, iii. 23;
  position, of, in Paris, 379

Littleton, Right Hon. Edward, i. 11; proposed by Lord Althorp as
  Speaker, ii. 333; Secretary for Ireland, 372; and O'Connell,
  iii. 99; instrumental in breaking up the Government, 102;
  political career of, 103; letter to Lord Wellesley, 103, 110;
  in communication with O'Connell, 103, 110; Irish Secretary, 113

Liverpool, Earl of, and the King, i. 25; paralytic seizure, 90;
  transactions before the close of Administration of, ii. 173

Liverpool, opening of the railroad, ii. 43, 47; bribery at
  election, 79

Lobau, Marshal, Commandant-Général, ii. 99

Lodge, the Royal, entertainments at, i. 99

London, speech of Bishop of, iii. 391; University Charter, iii.
  80, 81, 237; meeting of Committee of Council on, 260, 262

Londonderry, Marquis of, death of, i. 51; character of, 52;
  funeral of, 54

Londonderry, Marquis of, motion on Belgium, ii. 180; attacks Lord
  Plunket, 266; debate on appointment of, to St. Petersburg, iii.
  225; opinion of the Duke of Wellington, 227; speech of, 228;
  resignation of, 229

Long, St. John, trial of, ii. 85

Lords, House of, debate of Royal Dukes, i. 177; debate on
  Catholic Relief Bill, 199; division on Catholic Relief Bill,
  199; debate on affairs in Portugal, 277; debate on the Methuen
  Treaty, ii. 118; speech of Lord Brougham, 118; violent scene in
  the, 136; debate on Lord Londonderry's motion, 180; prospects
  of the Reform Bill, 193; First Reform Bill thrown out, 202;
  attack on the Bishops, 205; new Peers, 230; measures for
  carrying the second reading of the Second Reform Bill, 235,
  237; division on the Belgian question, 240; Reform Bill, 271;
  Irish education, 271; debates on second reading of the Reform
  Bill, 272, 286; list of proposed new Peers, 283; Reform Bill
  carried, 287; in Committee on the Reform Bill, 291; debate on
  conduct of the Tory party, 303; Russo-Dutch Loan, 315;
  Government beaten on Portuguese question, 376; powerlessness
  of, 377; Local Courts Bill, 382, 384; debate on Local Courts
  Bill, iii. 7; Government defeated, 7; Irish Church Bill, 8;
  Bill for the observance of the Sabbath, 83; debate on the Irish
  Church Bill, 94; Poor Law Bill, 114; debate on Irish Tithe
  Bill, 117; conduct of the House, 239; debate on Corporation
  Bill, 286, 290; position of the House, 288, 291; Irish Tithe
  Bill thrown up, 295; conflict with the House of Commons, 295;
  state of the House, 307; debate on Corporation Bill, 308, 351;
  hostility to the House of Commons, 359; conduct of the House,
  360, 361

Louis XVIII., King, memoirs of, ii. 305; favourites of, 305; at
  Hartwell, 345

Louis Philippe, King, accession of, ii. 26; conduct of, 27;
  tranquillises Paris, 99; speech of, 169; averse to French
  attack on Antwerp, 334; behaviour of, to the Queen of Portugal,
  iii. 33; power of, in the Chamber, 142; courage of, 286;
  conduct towards Spain, 321, 360, 364; at the Tuileries, 382;
  dislike to the Duke de Broglie, 386

Louise, H.R.H. Princess, daughter of King Louis Philippe, ii. 168

Louis, Baron, reported resignation of, ii. 45

Luckner, General, ii. 219

Lushington, Dr., speech of, in the appeal of Swift _v._ Kelly,
  ii. 383

Lushington, Sir Henry, and 'Monk' Lewis, iii. 2

Luttrell, Henry, character of, i. 10; 'Advice to Julia,' 33

Lyndhurst, Lord, Lord High Chancellor, i. 95, 124; quarrel with
  the Duke of Cumberland, 223; dissatisfaction at Lord Brougham's
  being raised to the Woolsack, ii. 68; reported appointment to
  be Lord Chief Baron, 89; opinion of the Government, 93; Lord
  Chief Baron, 106; political position of, 107; anecdote of a
  trial, 107; retort to the Duke of Richmond, 139; on the
  Government, 143; on Sir Robert Peel, 144; on Lord Brougham,
  144; sent for by the King, 294; efforts to form a Tory
  Government, 326; judgment in Small _v._ Attwood, 330; account
  of the efforts of the Tory party to form a Government, 340;
  forgets the message of the King to Lord Grey, iii. 49; account
  of transactions between the King and Lord Melbourne, 150;
  policy of, 151; on Lord Brougham, 153; Lord High Chancellor,
  156; on the Administration of Sir Robert Peel, 189; conduct on
  the Corporation Bill, 288, 292; on the prospects of the
  session, 332; on the business of the House of Lords, 333;
  speech in vindication of conduct, 362; in Paris, 378; insult
  offered to, in House of Commons, 389; capacity of, 390; violent
  speech of, 401

Lyndhurst, Lady, insulted by the Duke of Cumberland, i. 222;
  conversation with, ii. 93

Lynn Regis, election, iii. 170, 171, 175, 181

Lyons, riots at, ii. 219


Macao, verses on, i. 11, 12

Macaulay, Thomas Babington, speeches on the Reform Bill, ii. 123,
  199; eloquence of, 204; at Holland House, 245; appearance of,
  246; character of, 317; on the Coercion Bill, 363; conversation
  of, iii. 35; memory of, 337; eloquence of, compared to Lord
  Brougham, 338; inscription on monument erected in honour of
  Lord William Bentinck, 339

Macaulay, Zachary, iii. 337

Mackintosh, Right Hon. Sir James, speech of, on the criminal
  laws, i. 19; conversation of, 241; death of, ii. 307; 'History
  of England,' iii. 139; remarks on life of, 293, 314; compared
  with Burke, 314; life of, 316; abilities of, 316; religious
  belief of, 324

Maggiore, Lago, i. 414

Maidstone, state of the borough, iii. 184

Maii, Monsignore, i. 367, 375

Malibran, Maria Felicita, in the 'Sonnambula,' iii. 12

Mallet, conspiracy of, ii. 186

Malt Tax, the, Government defeated on, ii. 368

Manners Sutton, Sir Charles, G.C.B., proposed as Premier, ii.
  326; conduct of, 341; reappointed Speaker, 343; Knight of the
  Bath, iii. 30; the Speakership, 204, _see_ Canterbury, Lord

Mansfield, Lord, speech against the Government, ii. 136; audience
  of the King, 138; meeting of Peers, 152

Mansion House, the, dinner at, iii. 178

Marengo, battle-field of, i. 292

Maria, Donna, Queen of Portugal, at a child's ball, i. 209;
  proposals of marriage for, iii. 33; at Windsor, 33; picture of,
  195

Marie Amélie, Queen, iii. 383

Marmont, Marshal, at Lady Glengall's, ii. 34; conversation with,
  34; revolution of 1830, 37; at Woolwich, 38; dinner at Lord
  Dudley's, 38

Matteis, trial of, i. 336, 341

Matuscewitz, Russian Ambassador Extraordinary, i. 159; on affairs
  in Europe, ii. 176; conduct of, 324; conversation with, iii.
  314

Maule, Mr. Justice, at dinner at the Athenaeum. ii. 101

Meeting of moderate men, origin of the 'Derby Dilly,' iii. 219

Meiningen, château of, model of the, iii. 122; the Queen revisits
  the, 125

Melbourne, Viscount, Home Secretary, ii. 66; efficiency of, in
  office, 90; negotiations with, 104; dissatisfaction of, 245; on
  the proposed new Peers, 254; on the Reform Bill, 277; on the
  members of Lord Grey's Administration, 322; sent for by the
  King, iii. 102; forms an Administration, 108; letter to the
  Duke of Wellington, Sir Robert Peel, and Mr. Stanley, 109;
  Administration of, 113; anecdote of, 126; information of, 130;
  literary conversation of, 131; on Benthamites, 138; theological
  reading of, 138; fall of Government of, 143; dismissal of, 144;
  details of fall of Government, 147; account of dismissal, 150,
  168; with the King, 163, 168; with his colleagues, 164, 165,
  166; dispute with Lord Duncannon, 166; speeches at Derby, 170;
  weakness of, 170; second Administration formed, 253;
  composition of, 256; theological reading of, 324; appointment
  of Dr. Hampden, 342; action against, brought by the Hon. Mr.
  Norton, 349; result of the trial, 351; difficulties of the
  Government, 355

Melville, Viscount, President of the India Board, i. 124

Mendizabal, ability of, iii. 321; dismissal of, 350

Messiah, the oratorio of the, performed in Westminster Abbey,
  iii. 98

Methuen, Paul, M.P., on supporting the Government, iii. 65;
  retort of O'Connell to, 65

Metternich, Princess, anecdote of, iii. 187

Mexico, failure of the Spanish expedition against, i. 249

Meynell, Mr., retires from the Lord Chamberlain's department, ii.
  133

Mezzofanti, i. 403

Middlesex election, 1835, iii. 197

Middleton, party at, i. 12

Miguel, Dom, ii. 312, 315, 321; attacks Oporto, 324; fleet
  captured by Captain Napier, iii. 9; anecdote of, 26; blunders
  of, 93

Milan, i. 413

Mill, John Stuart, at breakfast given by Mr. Henry Taylor, ii. 59

Milton, Viscount, at a meeting at Lord Althorp's, ii. 161

Mirabeau, Count de, Talleyrand's account of, ii. 384

Miraflores, Count de, Spanish Ambassador in London, iii. 98;
  doubtful compliment to Madame de Lieven, 99

Mola di Gaeta, i. 359; Cicero's villa, 368

Molé, M., Prime Minister of France, iii. 379; abilities of, 380

Montalivet, case of the French refugee, iii. 386

Monti, Vincenzo, anecdote of, ii. 186

Moore, Thomas, i. 239, 245; conversation of, 242; anecdotes, 247;
  Irish patriotism of, ii. 98; opinions on Reform, 140; copy of
  'Lord Edward Fitzgerald,' 169; satire on Dr. Bowring, 219;
  compared with Rogers, iii. 324; quarrel with O'Connell, 346

'Morning Herald,' the, moderate Tory organ, ii. 269

Mornington, Countess of, death of, ii. 194

Morpeth, Viscount, Irish Secretary, iii. 256; speech on Irish
  Tithe Bill, 256

Mosley, Sir Oswald, meeting of moderate men, iii. 220

Mulgrave, Earl of, in Jamaica, ii. 352; refuses the office of
  Postmaster-General, iii. 90; Lord Privy Seal, 113; capability
  of, 255

Municipal Corporation Bill, iii. 263, 284, 290; policy of Tory
  Peers on the, 283; prospects of the, 295; effects of the, 309,
  313; the Bill carried, 310

Munster, Earl of, employed by the King, ii. 10; raised to the
  Peerage, 143; Lieutenant of the Tower, 168; sworn in a Privy
  Councillor, 352

Murat, Achille, ii. 115

Murray, Dr., Roman Catholic Archbishop of Dublin, i. 146

Murray, Sir George, Secretary of State for the Colonial
  Department, ii. 11

Murray, Lady Augusta, marriage of, ii. 194

Musard's ball, iii. 384


Namik Pacha, Turkish Ambassador, ii. 339

Napier, Sir William, on the state of the country, ii. 108;
  'History of the Peninsular War,' iii. 271

Napier, Captain Charles, captures Dom Miguel's fleet, iii. 9;
  cause of capture of a French squadron, 11; anecdote of, 34

Naples, i. 333; sight-seeing at, 334; Court of Justice, 334;
  manuscripts, 334; ceremony of taking the veil, 338; sights of,
  345, 356; miracle of the blood of San Gennaro, 353, 355, 364;
  excursions to Astroni, 356; lines on leaving, 361

Navarino, battle of, i. 114, 163

Nemours, H.R.H. Duc de, accompanies King Louis Philippe, ii. 99;
  nomination to the throne of Belgium declined, 111; in the House
  of Commons, iii. 306; at Doncaster, 315

Newmarket, political negotiations at, ii. 290

Nicholas, Emperor, accession of, i. 373; reception of strangers,
  iii. 24; on the change of Government in England, 211; speech at
  Warsaw, 319; dislike to King Louis Philippe, 387; qualities of,
  371

'Norma,' the opera of, iii. 2

North, Lord, Letters of George III. to, iii. 129; anecdote of,
  132

Northamptonshire election, iii. 326

Northumberland, Duke of, Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland, i. 157

Northumberland, Duchess of, resigns her office of governess to
  the Princess Victoria, iii. 400

Norton, Hon. Mr., action brought against Lord Melbourne, iii.
  349; result of the trial, 351


Oaks, The, ii. 374; party at, 374

Oatlands, the residence of the Duke of York, i. 4; weekly parties
  at, 5, 7

O'Connell, Daniel, character of, i. 145; at dinner, 203; attempts
  to take his seat, 207; elected for Clare, 1829, 223; insult to,
  ii. 76; in Ireland, 96; opposition to Lord Anglesey, 98;
  abilities of, 100; violence of, 106; arrest of, 107; trial of,
  109; position of, 111; pleads guilty, 114; opposition to Lord
  Duncannon in Kilkenny, 115; explanation of, 123; dread of
  cholera, 309; member for Ireland, 351; violent speech at the
  Trades' Union, 362, 363; attack on Baron Smith, iii. 59; retort
  to Mr. Methuen, 65; and the Coercion Bill, 103, 110; in
  correspondence with Mr. Littleton, 110; union with the Whig
  party, 219; power of, 255; affair with Lord Alvanley, 256; in
  Scotland, 316; proposed expulsion from Brooks's club, 320;
  quarrel with Moore, 346; Carlow election, 348

O'Connell, Morgan, duel with Lord Alvanley, iii. 256

Old Bailey, trials at, i. 204; ii. 85

Opera House, the English, burnt, i. 277

Orange, Prince of, dinner to the, ii. 57; returns to Holland, 133

Orange, Princess of, robbery of jewels of, i. 267

Orange Lodge, association of, iii. 343

Orangemen, meeting of, iii. 123

Orleans, H.R.H. Duke of, arrival of, i. 208; sent to Lyons, ii.
  219; in England, 373; project of marriage at Vienna, iii. 372;
  question of marriage of, 387

Orloff, Count, arrival of, ii. 278; delay in ratification of the
  Belgian Treaty, 285

Osterley, party at, ii. 187


Padua, i. 411

Paestum, i. 344

Palmella, Duke of, arrival of in London, ii. 315

Palmerston, Viscount, speech on the Portuguese question, i. 211;
  Foreign Secretary, ii. 66; suggests a compromise on the Reform
  Bill, 211; on proposed new Peers, 254; on prospects of the
  Reform Bill, 256; business habits of, iii. 20, 21; unpopularity
  of, 56; speech on the Turkish question, 71; Foreign Secretary
  in Lord Melbourne's Administration, 113; unpopularity with the
  _corps diplomatique_, 136; loses his election in Hampshire,
  197; as a man of business, 210; Foreign Secretary, 256;
  abilities of, 360

Panic, the, 1825, i. 77; on the Stock Exchange, 1830, ii. 43

Panshanger, parties at, ii. 46, 47, 229

Paris, society at, in 1830, i. 283; in July, 416, 417; Marshal
  Marmont's account of events at, in 1830, ii. 36; alarm felt in,
  99; change of Ministry, 133; in 1837, iii. 377; society at,
  378, 385; sight-seeing, 381, 383

Park, Judge, anecdotes of, ii. 92; iii. 372

Parke, Right Hon. Sir James, sworn in a Privy Councillor, iii.
  21; Baron of the Exchequer, 71; in the appeal of Swift _v._
  Kelly, 268

Parliament, meeting of, 1830, ii. 53; meeting of, 1831, ii. 110;
  dissolution of 1831, 137; opening of, 153; in 1831, 223;
  dissolution of, 1832, 334; opening of, 1833, 351; prorogation
  of, 1833, iii. 27; opening of, 1834, 55; dissolution of, 183;
  temporary buildings for Houses of, 205; opening of, 219; in
  1836, 334; prorogation of, 1836, 361

Parnell, Sir Henry, turned out of office, ii. 243

Parsons, anecdotes of, ii. 108

Paskiewitch, Marshal, in quarantine, ii. 162

Pattison, James, returned to Parliament for the City of London,
  iii. 188

Pavilion, The, dinner at, i. 49; completion of, 54

Pease, Mr., and O'Dwyer, iii. 59

Pedro, Dom, expedition of, ii. 312, 315; proposal to combine with
  Spain, iii. 72; in possession of Portugal, 93

Peel, Right Hon. Sir Robert, Home Secretary, i. 124; speeches on
  Catholic Relief Bill, 167, 183; Oxford University election,
  1829, 177; defeated, 178; political prospects of, ii. 95, 96;
  power in the House of Commons, 116; speech on the Reform Bill,
  123; inactivity of, on the Reform Bill, 130, 134; complaints of
  policy of, 141; conduct of, 160; reserve of, 161, 174;
  excellence in debate, 200; answer to Lord Harrowby, 248, 249;
  policy of, 264; speech on Irish Tithes, 269; invited to form a
  Government, 294; refuses to take office, 296; defence of
  conduct, 304; conduct during the Tory efforts to form a
  Government, 327, 328; conduct compared with that of the Duke of
  Wellington, 328; character of, 354; on political unions, iii.
  12; in society, 35; position of, in the House of Commons, 64;
  collection of pictures, 70; great dinner given by, 72; speech
  on admission of Dissenters to the University, 75; policy of the
  Administration of, 161; friendship with the Duke of Wellington
  renewed, 167; arrival of, from the Continent, 174; formation of
  Administration, 177; manifesto to the country, 178; prospects
  of the Ministry, 179; qualities of, 189; Toryism of
  Administration of, 194; false position of, 208; prospects of
  Government, 214, 235, 236; talents of, 224; conduct to his
  adherents, 230, 244; courage of, 283; impending resignation of,
  242; Government defeated, 246; resignation of Administration
  of, 1835, 246, 248; speech on Corporation Reform, 263; on Irish
  Church Bill, 281; relations with Lord John Russell, 282;
  seclusion of, 297; speech on Corporation Reform, 304;
  consideration for Lord Stanley, 335; conduct with regard to the
  Corporation Bill, 340; position of, 358; on the beginning of
  the new reign, 402

Peel, Sir Robert, sen., account of, ii. 125

Peel, Right Hon. Jonathan, iii. 243

Pemberton, Thomas, ii. 314; in the appeal of Swift _v._ Kelly,
  iii. 267, 271

Pembroke, Earl of, i. 250

Pension List, _see_ Commons, House of

Pepys, Right Hon. Sir Christopher, Master of the Rolls, iii. 328.
  _See_ Cottenham, Lord

Perceval, Spencer, discourse of, iii, 41; the Unknown Tongue, 41;
  on the condition of the Church, 123; apostolic mission to the
  members of the Government, 331; at Holland House, 331;
  apostolic mission of, 333

Périer, Casimir, momentary resignation of, ii. 175; attacked by
  cholera, 288; death of, 307

Persian Ambassador, the, quarrel of, with the Regent, i. 21

Perth election, 1835, iii. 197

Petworth House and pictures, ii. 336; fête at, iii. 84

Peyronnet, Comte de, i. 393

Phillpotts, _see_ Exeter, Bishop of

Pisa, i. 297

Pitt, Right Hon. William, described by Talleyrand, ii. 345;
  anecdotes of, iii. 131

Plunket, Lord, Lord Chancellor in Ireland, ii. 90; anecdote of,
  107; at Stoke, iii. 21; Deanery of Down, 70

Poland, contest in, ii. 157

Polignac, Prince Jules de, head of the Administration in France;
  i. 160, 229, 283; Administration of, 394; behaviour of, ii. 29;
  letter to M. de Molé, 33; exasperation against, 38, 39

Pompeii, i. 338; excavations at, 343

Ponsonby, Viscount, Minister at Naples, ii. 155; letters of, 172;
  conduct of, as Ambassador at Constantinople, iii. 405

Pope, the, audience of Pius VIII., i. 382; Irish appointments of
  the, iii. 269. _See_ Rome

Portfolio, the, iii. 327

Portland, Duke of, Lord Privy Seal, i. 95

Portugal, ships seized by the French, ii. 182, 184; affairs in,
  iii. 25, 79; bankrupt state of, 93

Powell, Mr., ii. 52

Pozzo di Borgo, Count, ii. 347; views of, on the state of Europe,
  iii. 182; Russian Ambassador in London, 201, 203

Praed, Winthrop Mackworth, first speech of, ii. 115; First
  Secretary to the Board of Control, iii. 194

Pratolino, i. 402

Prayer, form of, on account of the disturbed state of the
  kingdom, ii. 99

Proclamation against rioters, ii. 73


Quakers, the, address to King William IV, ii. 17

'Quarterly Review, The,' attacks Lord Harrowby, ii. 269, 270;
  pamphlet in answer to article, 270

Quintus Curtius, iii. 130


Racing, remarks on, ii. 373; anecdote, 374

Redesdale, Lord, letter of, ii. 269

Reform, plan of, ii. 105; remarks on, 207; negotiations
  concerning, 215, 217, 218

Reform Bill, the, laid before the King, ii. 109; excitement
  concerning, 124; carried by one vote, 132; alterations in, 134;
  Government defeated, 135; remarks on, 180; attitude of the
  press, 193; prospects of, 199; negotiations for a compromise,
  211; altered tone of the press, 225; meeting of Peers in
  Downing Street, 225; measures for carrying the second reading
  in the House of Lords, 235, 237, 239, 241; continued efforts to
  compromise, 268; finally passed in the House of Commons, 270;
  continued discussions on, 274; difficulty with Schedule A, 280;
  carried in the House of Lords, 287; in committee, 292; passes
  through committee, 304; results of, iii. 27, 191. For debates
  on, _see_ Lords, House of, and Commons, House of

Reichstadt, Duke of, and Marshal Marmont, iii. 374

Reis-Effendi, the, i. 159

Renfrewshire election, iii. 388

Rice, Right Hon. Thomas Spring, Colonial Secretary, iii. 88, 113;
  difficulties with, 253; Chancellor of the Exchequer, 256;
  incapacity of, as Chancellor of the Exchequer, 376

Richmond, Duke of, and King George III. at a naval review, iii.
  129

Richmond, Duke of, summary of character of, i. 199;
  Postmaster-General, ii. 66; refuses the appointment of Master of
  the Horse, 67; difficulties with his labourers, 68; at Goodwood,
  182; on Reform, 211; character of, iii. 15; resignation of, 88

Riots, in London, 1830, ii. 55; among the farm labourers, 68;
  proclamation against, 73; in the country, 77

Ripon, Earl of, Lord Privy Seal, ii. 66; resignation of, iii. 88.
  _See_ Goderich, Viscount

Robarts, Mr., dinner given by, iii. 184

Robinson, Right Hon. Frederick John, Chancellor of the Exchequer,
  i. 79; _See_ Goderich, Viscount

Rochester election, 1835, iii. 193

Roden, Earl of, declines the office of Lord Steward, iii. 179,
  181

Rogers, Samuel, breakfast given by, ii. 150; compared with Moore,
  iii. 324

Rolle, Lord, remark to Lord Brougham, iii. 107

Rome, i. 303, 304; St. Peter's, 303, 321; sight-seeing, 306, 311,
  322; the Sistine Chapel, 309; the cardinals, 309; a cardinal
  lying in state, 312; Pompey's statue, 313; Temple of Bacchus,
  313; the Catacombs, 314; the Pope's blessing, 316, 324; Holy
  Week observances, 317; the Grand Penitentiary, 317, 319;
  washing of pilgrims' feet, 320; supper to pilgrims, 321;
  Protestant burial-ground, 322; St. Peter's illuminated, 325;
  excavations, 327; sight-seeing, 328, 329, 362; aqueducts, 363;
  the Scala Santa, 364; St. Peter's, 366; Library of the Vatican,
  367; votive offering of a horse-shoe, 367, 372; Columbaria,
  374; saints, 385; the Flagellants, 387; relations with
  Protestant countries, 391; the Coliseum, 395; story of a thief,
  396; convent of SS. Giovanni e Paolo, 397; sight-seeing, 398

Rosslyn, Earl of, Lord Privy Seal, i. 210; Lord President of the
  Council, iii. 177; dinner for selecting the Sheriffs, 201

Roussin, Admiral, at Constantinople ii. 367

Rovigo, the Duke de, at Rome, i. 325

Rundell, Mr., fortune of, will of, i. 90

Runton Abbey, shooting at, iii. 51; murder in the neighbourhood,
  51

Russell, Right Hon. Lord John, introduces the Reform Bill, ii.
  121; seat in the Cabinet, 150; brings in his Bill, 155; letter
  to Attwood, 205, 206; willing to compromise, 223; brings on the
  second Reform Bill, 227; Paymaster, of the Forces, iii. 113;
  objected to by the King as leader of the House of Commons, 160;
  speech at Totness, 171; on the Speakership, 205; on Church
  Reform, 206; first speech as leader of the House of Commons,
  214; letter of, on the Speakership, 218; as leader of the House
  of Commons, 221; marriage of, 252; Home Secretary in Lord
  Melbourne's second Administration, 256; introduction of
  Corporation Reform, 263; relations with Sir Robert Peel, 282;
  course to be pursued on the Corporation Bill, 303, 310; speech
  on the Orangemen, 344; moderation of, 352; meeting at the
  Foreign Office, 357, 358; intention of the Government to
  proceed with their Bills, 397; speech in answer to Roebuck, 401

Russia, state of, 1829, i. 158; intrigues of, ii. 351; diplomatic
  relations with, 352; combines with Turkey against Egypt, 366;
  fleet sent to Constantinople, 366; establishes her power in the
  East, 371; quarrel with, iii. 44; policy towards Turkey, 48;
  treaty with Turkey, 69; relations with Turkey, 183

Russo-Dutch Loan, question of the, ii. 240, 241; origin of the,
  244; debate on the, in the House of Lords, 315

Rutland, Duke of, anti-Reform petition, ii. 263; birthday party,
  iii. 46


Sadler, Mr., maiden speech of, in opposition to the Catholic
  Relief Bill, i. 191

Saint-Aulaire, M. de, French Ambassador at Vienna, iii. 187;
  anecdote of, 187

Saint-Aulaire, Madame de, iii. 187

Saint-Germain, Count de, account of, ii. 186; the 'Wandering
  Jew,' 186

Salerno, i. 344

Salisbury, Marquis of, petition to the King, ii. 231

Saltash, borough of, division on, ii. 170

San Carlos, Duke and Duchess of, i. 8

Sandon, Viscount, moves the Address in the House of Commons, iii.
  202; on Sir Robert Peel, 340

Sandys, Lord, iii. 359

Sartorius, Admiral, petition, iii. 366

Scarlett, Sir James, Attorney-General, i. 210

Scott, Sir Walter, death of, ii. 307

Seaford, Lord, i. 83

Sebastiani, Count, French Ambassador to the Court of St. James's,
  iii. 180

Sefton, Earl of, dinner to Lord Grey and Lord Brougham, ii. 69;
  on Lord Brougham, 148; created a Peer of the United Kingdom,
  150; qualities of, 183

Segrave, Lord, Lord-Lieutenant of Gloucestershire, iii. 322

Senior, Nassau, at Holland House, iii. 138

Session of 1833, review of the, iii. 28

Sestri, i. 297

Seton, Sir Henry, arrival of, from Belgium, ii. 178

Seymour, Lord, withdraws his support from the Government, ii. 124

Seymour, George, Master of the Robes, ii. 50

Seymour, Horace, retires from the Lord Chamberlain's Department,
  ii. 133

Seymour, Jane, coffin of, found at Windsor, ii. 168

Shadwell, Right Hon. Sir Lancelot, on legal business, iii. 76

Shee, Sir Martin, elected President of the Royal Academy, i. 269

Sheil, Right Hon. Richard, dispute with Lord Althorp, iii. 55;
  arrest of, by the Serjeant-at-Arms, 56; committee, 57, 58;
  insult to Lord Lyndhurst, 389

Sheridan, Richard Brinsley, iii. 336

Siege of Saragossa, the, iii. 40

Siena, i. 303

Simplon, the, i. 415

Slavery, abolition of, ii. 347; for debates on, _see_ Commons,
  House of

Smith, Baron, ii. 105; O'Connell's attack upon, iii. 59, 61, 63

Smith, Sydney, and the siege of Saragossa, iii. 39; and Professor
  Leslie, 44; sermon of, in St. Paul's Cathedral, 166; on Sir
  James Mackintosh, 317; dispute of, with the Bishop of London,
  395; letter to Archdeacon Singleton, 395

Smithson, Sir Hugh, ii. 337, 338

Somaglia, Cardinal, i. 312

Somerville, Mrs., iii. 58

Sorrento, i. 352; Benediction of the Flowers, 352

Soult, Marshal, sent to Lyons, ii. 219; Prime Minister of France,
  324

Southey, Robert, at breakfast given by Mr. Henry Taylor, ii. 59;
  letter to Lord Brougham on rewards to literary men, 111

Spain, the Duke of Wellington on affairs in, iii. 47; state of,
  55; affairs in, 66, 72; proposal to combine with Dom Pedro, 72;
  affairs in, 183; deplorable state of, 359

Spanish Legion, formation of the, iii. 265

Speaker, the, indecision of, ii. 299; disputes on the
  Speakership, 333; iii. 204

Spencer, Earl, death of, iii. 140

Spencer, Earl, _see_ Althorp, Viscount

Sprotborough, party at, for the races, ii. 50

Staël, Madame de, 'Considérations sur la Révolution française,'
  i. 16; anecdote of, ii. 186

Stafford House, concert at, iii. 278

Stanley, Right Hon. Edward, Irish Secretary, ii. 66; speech on
  the Reform Bill, 123; seat in the Cabinet, 150; speech in
  answer to Croker, 228; Secretary for the Colonial Department,
  365; at The Oaks, 374; indecision of, iii. 17; racing interests
  of, 35; resignation of, 88; in opposition, 93; 'Thimblerig'
  speech, 100; conciliatory letter to Lord Grey, 107; disposition
  of, 165, 167; declines to join Sir R. Peel, 175, 176; speech at
  Glasgow, 180; formation of the Stanley party, 220; position of
  Mr. Stanley, 222; policy of, 228; meeting of party at the
  'King's Head,' 237; speech on Irish Church question, 240;
  character of, 250; letter to Sir Thomas Hesketh, 265; joins the
  Opposition, 272; conduct of, 336

Stanley, Right Hon. Edward John, Under-Secretary of State, iii.
  112

State Paper Office, i. 160; iii. 44

Stephen, James, opinions on emancipation, ii. 359

Stephenson, George, on steam-engines, iii. 54

Stewart, Lady Dudley, party given by, ii. 115; accompanies the
  Prince of Orange to Gravesend, 133

Stoke, party at, i. 142; ii. 185

Strangford, Viscount, sent to the Brazils, i. 140

Strasburg prisoners, acquittal of, iii. 381

Strawberry Hill, party at, i. 247

Strutt, Edward, ii. 59

Stuart de Rothesay, Lord, Ambassador in France, i. 141

Sugden, Right Hon. Sir Edward, quarrel of, with Lord Brougham,
  ii. 312; origin of animosity towards Lord Brougham, iii. 22;
  Irish Chancellor, 178; resignation of, 231; retains his
  appointment, 234

Sugden, Lady, not received at Court, iii. 231

Sunderland, state of, ii. 216

Sussex, H.R.H. the Duke of, marriage of, ii. 194

Sutherland, Duke of, death of the, iii. 19; wealth, of the, 19

Suttee case, before the Privy Council, ii. 307

Swift _v._ Kelly, before the Judicial Committee of the Privy
  Council, iii. 259, 266, 267, 271; judgment, 274


Talleyrand, Charles Maurice de, letter to the Emperor of Russia,
  i. 23; Ambassador to the Court of St. James, ii. 44;
  conversation of, 185; anecdotes, 185; _mot_ of, 195; dinner
  with, 222; on Fox and Pitt, 344; detained in the Thames, 346;
  on Portuguese affairs, iii. 25; on relations between France and
  England, 314; opinion of, of Lord Palmerston, 360;
  dissatisfaction at his position in London, 386

Tasso, i. 328; bust of, 328

Tavistock, Marquis of, on the prospects of the Liberal party,
  iii. 43

Taylor, Sir Herbert, conversation with Lord Wharncliffe, ii. 251;
  correspondence with, about the Chancellorship, 339

Taylor, Henry, breakfast at the house of, ii. 58; breakfast to
  Wordsworth, Mill, Elliot, Charles Villiers, 120; on the
  abolition of slavery in the West Indies, 348; 'Philip van
  Artevelde,' iii. 114

Taylor, Brook, mission to Rome, ii. 153

Teddesley, party at, i. 11

Tenterden, Lord, death of, ii. 329; character of, 331; classical
  knowledge of, 331

Terceira, Portuguese expedition to, i. 169, 170

Terni, Falls of, i. 401

Thiers, Adolphe, dinner to, iii. 31; account of, 31; at the head
  of the French Government, 66; on interference in Spain, 66;
  foreign policy of, 364; social qualities of, 379; quarrel with
  Lady Granville, 380; courts the favour of Austria, 387

Thompson, Alderman, difficulties with his constituents, ii. 166

Thomson, Right Hon. Charles Poulett, originates a commercial
  treaty with France, ii. 219; Board of Trade, iii. 113, 256;
  self-complacency of, 330

Thorwaldsen, Albert, at Florence, i. 299, 300

Tierney, Right Hon. George, i. 14; Master of the Mint, 95; death
  of, 269

'Times,' the, on Lord Harrowby's letter, ii. 264, 265; attacks
  Lord Grey, 267; Lord Chancellor's speech, 313; influence of
  the, 362; and Lord Brougham, iii. 133; disposition of, to
  support a Tory Government, 149, 152; terms of support to the
  Duke of Wellington, 155; power of the, 156, 157; negotiations
  with Lord Lyndhurst, 171; letter signed 'Onslow,' 199

Titchfield, Marquis of, death of, i. 75; character of, 75

Tivoli, i. 375

Tixall, party at, i. 10; Macao, 11

Torrington, Viscount, and the King, iii. 285

Tory party, state of the, ii. 162; meeting at Bridgewater House,
  iii. 237; state of the, 306; indifference of members of the,
  389

Treaty of Unkiar Skelessi, iii. 45; between Russia and Turkey,
  1834, 69; the Quadruple, for the pacification of the Peninsula,
  signed 1834, 94

Tree, Ellen, at the City Theatre, ii. 181

Tuileries, the, reception at, iii. 382; ball at, 383; small ball
  at, 385

Turf, the, reflections on, iii. 139

Turin, i. 291

Turkey, threatened by Russia, i. 228; critical state of, ii. 351;
  relations with Russia, iii. 183

Tusculum, i. 390

Twiss, Horace, supper party given by, iii. 260


Union, speech of O'Connell on the repeal of the, iii. 80

Unions, proclamation against the, ii. 215; procession of trades,
  iii. 79

Urquhart, Mr., Secretary to the Embassy at Constantinople, iii.
  405


Van de Weyer, Sylvain, Belgian Minister to the Court of St.
  James, ii. 180

Vaudreuil, M. de, French _chargé d'affaires_ in London, on French
  affairs, ii. 24

Vaughan, Right Hon. Sir Charles, special mission to
  Constantinople, iii. 405

Vaughan, Right Hon. Sir John, sworn in a Privy Councillor, ii.
  155

Venice, i. 405; sights of, 406, 408, 410

Vernet, Horace, at Rome, i. 325

Verona, Congress of, i. 65; visit to, 413

Verulam, Earl of, petition to the King, ii. 231

Vesuvius, ascent of, i. 350

Vicenza, i. 412

Victoria, H.R.H. the Princess, at a child's ball, i. 209; first
  appearance of, at a drawing-room, ii. 119; at Burghley iii.
  315; health of, proposed by the King, 364; at Windsor, 367;
  letter from the King, 400; seclusion of, 403; first Council of,
  406; proclaimed QUEEN, 408; impression produced on all, 409

Villiers, Hon. Hyde, appointed to the Board of Control, ii. 145

Villiers, Hon. George, at the Grove, ii. 105; conversation with
  the Duke of Wellington, 105; mission to Paris for a commercial
  treaty, 219; Minister at Madrid, iii. 14, 20, 21; on prospects
  in Spain, 69, 79; letters of, from Madrid, 321, 360, 365

Villiers, Hon. Charles Pelham, ii. 59

Virginia Water, ii. 25; visit to, 30


Walewski, Count Alexander, arrival of, in London, ii. 104

Walpole, Horace, letters to Sir Horace Mann, iii. 2

'Wandering Jew, The,' ii. 186

Warsaw, affair at, ii. 95; taken by the Russians, 192

Warwickshire Election, iii. 353, 354

Wellesley, Marquis of, Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland, iii. 31;
  correspondence with Mr. Littleton, 103, 110; resigns the White
  Wand, 258

Wellesley, Long, Esq., committed for contempt of court, ii. 166

Wellington, Duke of, account of the battle of Waterloo, i. 39; in
  Paris with Blücher, 41; dispute with the King, 51; on affairs
  of France and Spain, 67; opinion of Bonaparte, 71; mission to
  Russia, 78; visit to the Royal Lodge, 102; opinion of Mr.
  Canning, 107; forms a Government, 1828, 124; resolves to carry
  the Catholic Relief Bill, 143; correspondence with Dr. Curtis,
  148; ascendency of, in the Cabinet, and over the King, 176;
  hardness of character of, 191; duel with Lord Winchelsea, 192;
  conversation with, on King George IV. and the Duke of
  Cumberland, 216, 218; prosecution of the press, 233, 258, 260;
  business habits of, 262; conversation with on the French
  Revolution, ii. 21; qualities of, 41; confidence in, 45;
  declaration against Reform, 53; Administration of, defeated,
  61; resignation of, 62; suppresses disturbance in Hampshire,
  75; political character of, 81; reported letter of advice to
  the King of France, 94; correspondence with Mr. Canning, 103;
  conduct towards the Government, 159; objections to Mr. Canning,
  170; dinner at Apsley House, 188; anti-Reform dinner at Apsley
  House, 197; remarks upon, 204; memorial to the King, 211;
  correspondence with Lord Wharncliffe, 221; obstinacy of, 234;
  letter to Lord Wharncliffe, 248; unbecoming letter laid before
  the King, 252; reply to Lord Wharncliffe, 253; speech on Irish
  Education, 272; sent for by the King, 294; efforts of, to form
  an Administration, 299; inability of, to form an
  Administration, 300; statement of his case, 302; conduct of the
  Tory party, 302; ill-feeling towards Peel, 325; view of
  affairs, 1833, 363; government of French provinces, 363;
  respect evinced towards, 372; defence of policy, 379; Speech on
  the Coronation Oath, iii. 9, 10; policy on the Irish Church
  Bill, 10; on Portuguese affairs, 11, 26; and the Bonaparte
  family, 26; subsequent account of attempt to form a Government,
  48; compared with Lord Grey, 73; speech on the admission of
  Dissenters to the University, 73; presents the Oxford petition,
  79; and the Whigs, 82; installed as Chancellor of the
  University of Oxford, 95; First Lord of the Treasury, and
  Secretary of State for the Home Office, 149; arrangement for a
  provisional Government, 149; at the public offices, 1834, 154;
  account of crisis of 1834, 162; inconsistencies of, 172; on the
  division on the Speakership, 216; on Lord Londonderry's
  appointment, 227; anecdote of Lord Brougham, 232; on Spain,
  270; on the Walcheren expedition, 271; policy of, on the
  Corporation Bill, 283; letter to the Duke of Cumberland, 320;
  speech in answer to Lord Lyndhurst, 362; meeting of Tory Peers,
  397; crowned by the Duchess of Cannizzaro, 406; quarrel with
  the Duke of Clarence, 406

Western, Lord, evidence of, iii. 112

West India Body, consternation of the, ii. 350; deputation of
  the, 350

West India Bill, prospects of the, iii. 13. For debates on the,
  _see_ Commons, House of

West Indies, Lord Chandos's motion on the state of the, ii. 116;
  project of emancipation, 347; alarm in the, 352; difficulties
  attending emancipation, 360; committee on affairs of the, iii.
  266; decision on the office of Secretary of the Island of
  Jamaica, 279

Westmeath, Marchioness of, pension, i. 157, 160

Westmeath _v._ Westmeath, appeal before the Judicial Committee,
  iii. 119, 124; decision in, 140

Westminster election, 1818, contest, i. 3; in 1819, 17, 19; in
  1833, ii. 370; in 1837, iii. 398

Wetherell, Sir Charles, account of, i. 194; speech on the Reform
  Bill, ii. 123; supports Sir E. Sugden's motion, 314

Wharncliffe, Lord, interview with Radical Jones, ii. 200;
  overtures for a compromise on the Reform Bill, 211; character
  of, 213; draws up a declaration for signature in the City, 214;
  disappointment of, 218; final interview of, with Lord Grey,
  220; correspondence of, with the Duke of Wellington, 221;
  interview of, with the King on the proposed new Peers, 231,
  233; memorandum laid before the King, 252; as chief of a party,
  289; in communication with Lord Lyndhurst and Lord
  Ellenborough, 290; defends his policy, 292; paper on the Tory
  party, 343; on the prospects of the country, iii. 54; joins the
  Peel Government, 175; on the prospects of the session, 341

Whately, Richard, D.D., Archbishop of Dublin, iii. 280

Whig party, state of the, iii. 159; tactics of the, 216; union
  with O'Connell, 219; symptoms of disunion in the, 221; meeting
  at Lichfield House, 224; prospects of the, 235

Wicklow, Earl of, attack on the Government, iii. 110

Wilberforce, William, speech of, i. 16; negotiation with Mr.
  Canning, ii. 125

William IV., King, accession of, ii. 1; dislike of, to the Duke
  of Cumberland, 5; behaviour of, 6, 9; at the House of Lords,
  11; personal anecdotes of, 11, 12, 13, 14; dinner at Apsley
  House, 14; at Windsor, 25; pays the racing debts of the Duke of
  York, 50; speech on the change of Government, 72; levee, 74;
  health of, 106, 108; mobbed on returning from the theatre, 117;
  in mourning for his son-in-law, 133; in the House of Lords,
  136; dissolves Parliament, 136; conduct to his Ministers, 138;
  at Ascot, 147; opens Parliament, 153; at Windsor, 179; and the
  Bishops, 185; divides the old Great Seal, 188; crowned at
  Westminster, 190; levee, 192; toasts at dinner at St James's,
  193; interview with Lord Wharncliffe on creation of new Peers,
  233; health of, 282; reluctance of, to make Peers, 283; adverse
  sentiments towards the Whigs, 298; dinner to the Jockey Club,
  301; levity of, 302; letter to the Peers, 303; character of,
  307; struck by a stone, 307; country dance, 341; anecdotes of,
  342; state of mind of, 364; letter to the Archbishop of
  Canterbury, 382, 383; letter-writing, iii. 2; animosity to the
  French, 33; irritability of, 81; conduct of, 84; personal
  feelings towards the members of Lord Melbourne's
  Administration, 137; dismissal of Lord Melbourne, 144; speech
  to the Tory Lords, 148; provisional appointments, 148; account
  of difference with Lord Melbourne, 150; resolution of, to
  support the Tory Government, 161; address to the new Ministers,
  175; on the state of Persia, 184; whims of, 203; Island of St.
  Bartholomew, 203; indignation of, at the affair of Lord
  Londonderry, 231; distress of, 251; and the Ministers, 245;
  personal habits of, 264; speech to Sir Charles Grey, 272;
  audience to Lord Durham, 272; hostility towards Lord Glenelg
  and the Ministers, 276; conduct to the Speaker, 279; scene with
  Lord Torrington, 285; speech to the Bishops, 303; speech on the
  Militia, 311; and the Duchess of Kent, 313; speech at dinner to
  the Jockey Club, 351; Toryism of, 358; joke, 361; speech to the
  Bishop of Ely, 363; proposes the health of the Princess
  Victoria, 364; aversion to his Ministers, 364, 366; speech to
  Lord Minto, 364, 366; rudeness to the Duchess of Kent, 366;
  scene at birthday party, 367; reception of King Leopold, 370;
  speech, 1837, 385; address to Lord Aylmer, 394; illness of,
  399, 400; letter to the Princess Victoria, 399; dangerous
  illness of, 401; prayers offered up for, 403; death of, 406;
  kindness of heart of, 410

Williams, Sir John, Justice of the Common Pleas, iii. 71

Winchelsea, Earl of, duel of, with the Duke of Wellington, i.
  192; incident of the handkerchief, 198

Winchester Cathedral, iii. 283

Windham, Right Hon. William, diary of, i. 231; conversation with
  Doctor Johnson, 232

Windsor Castle, dinner in St. George's Hall, ii. 34, 42; dinner
  during the Ascot week, 147

Windsor election, mobs at the, iii. 130

Woburn, party at, i. 23; riot at, ii. 77

Wood, Charles, on the Reform Bill, ii. 280

Wood, Matthew, returned to Parliament for the City of London,
  iii. 188

Worcester, Marchioness of, death of the, i. 47

Worcester Cathedral, iii. 327; monument of Bishop Hough, 327

Wordsworth, William, characteristics of, ii. 120

Wortley, Right Hon. John, Secretary to the Board of Control, i.
  271. _See_ Wharncliffe

Wrottesley, Sir John, motion of, for a call of the House, iii. 8,
  13

Wynford, Lord, raised to the Peerage, i. 210; Deputy Speaker of
  the House of Lords, 210

Wynn, Right Hon. Charles, President of the Board of Control, i.
  95; resignation of, ii. 124


York, H.R.H. the Duke of, character of, i. 5; management of
  racing establishment, 44; dislike to the Duke of Wellington,
  48, 62; duel with the Duke of Richmond, 62; anecdotes of King
  George IV., 73; illness of, 83, 85; death of, 84; funeral of,
  89; letter to Lord Liverpool on the Catholic question, ii. 104

York, H.R.H. the Duchess of, character of, i. 5; portrait of, 8;
  illness of, 27; death of, 34

Young, Thomas, private secretary to Lord Melbourne, iii. 126


Zea Bermudez, iii. 21; dismissal of, 55

Zumalacarreguy, iii. 270





End of Project Gutenberg's The Greville Memoirs, by Charles C. F. Greville