Chapter 62
June 25th, 1832 {p.307}
At Fern Hill all last week; a great party, nothing but racing and gambling; then to Shepperton, and to town on Sat.u.r.day. The event of the races was the King's having his head knocked with a stone.
It made very little sensation on the spot, for he was not hurt, and the fellow was a miserable-looking ragam.u.f.fin. It, however, produced a great burst of loyalty in both Houses, and their Majesties were loudly cheered at Ascot. The Duke of Wellington, who had been the day before mobbed in London, also reaped a little harvest of returning popularity from the a.s.sault, and so far the outrages have done rather good than harm.
July 12th, 1832 {p.307}
The suttee case was decided at the Privy Council on Sat.u.r.day last, and was not uninteresting. The Chancellor, Lord President, Graham, John Russell and Grant, Sir Edward East, the Master of Rolls, Vice-Chancellor, Lord Amherst, and Lord Wellesley were present (the latter not the last day). Lus.h.i.+ngton was for the appeal, and Home and Starkie against. The former made two very able and ingenious speeches; when the counsel withdrew the Lords gave their opinions _seriatim_. Leach made a very short and very neat speech, condemning the order[10] of the Governor-General, but admitting the danger of rescinding it, and recommending, therefore, that the execution of it should be suspended. Sir Edward East, in a long, diffusive harangue, likewise condemned the order, but was against suspension; Sir James Graham was against the order, but against suspension; Lord Amherst the same.
The rest approved of the order altogether. John Russell gave his opinion very well. The Chancellor was prolix and confused; he hit upon a bit of metaphysics in one of the cases on which he took pleasure in dilating. The result was that the pet.i.tion was dismissed.
[10] The order was a decree of the Governor-General of India abolis.h.i.+ng the practice of suttee, against which certain Hindoos appealed to the King in Council.
Another party, however, were in favour of the order, and the Rajah Rammohun Roy is acting in this country as their agent.
I know nothing of politics for some time past. The Reform fever having subsided, people are princ.i.p.ally occupied with speculations on the next elections. At present there is every appearance of the return of a House of Commons very favourable to the present Government, but the Tory party keeps together in the House of Lords, and they are animated with vague hopes of being able to turn out the Ministry, more from a spirit of hatred and revenge than from any clear view of the practicability of their carrying on the Government. I conceive, however, that as soon as Parliament is up there will be a creation of Peers. In the House of Commons the Irish t.i.the question has been the great subject of interest and discussion. O'Connell and the Irish members debate and adjourn just as they please, and Althorp is obliged to give way to them.
When Stanley moved for leave to bring in his Bill, he detailed his plan in a speech of two hours. They thought fit to oppose this, which is quite unusual, and O'Connell did not arrive till after Stanley had sat down. Not having heard his speech he could not answer him, and he therefore moved the adjournment. Upon a former occasion, during the Reform Bill, when the Tories moved an adjournment after many hours' debate, the Government opposed it, and voted on through the night till seven o'clock in the morning; now the Tories were ready to support Government against the Irish members, but they would not treat the Radicals as they did the Tories, and then on a subsequent occasion they submitted to have the debate adjourned.
[Page Head: O'CONNELL'S DREAD OF CHOLERA.]
O'Connell is supposed to be horridly afraid of the cholera. He has dodged about between London and Dublin, as the disease appeared first at one and then the other place, and now that it is everywhere he s.h.i.+rks the House of Commons from fear of the heat and the atmosphere. The cholera is here, and diffuses a certain degree of alarm. Some servants of people well known have died, and that frightens all other servants out of their wits, and they frighten their masters; the death of any one person they are acquainted with terrifies people much more than that of twenty of whom they knew nothing. As long as they read daily returns of a parcel of deaths here and there of A, B, and C they do not mind, but when they hear that Lady such a one's nurse or Sir somebody's footman is dead, they fancy they see the disease actually at their own door.
July 15th, 1832 {p.309}
[Page Head: IRISH t.i.tHES.]
I had a good deal of conversation yesterday with Lord Duncannon and Lord John Russell about Ireland. The debate the night before lasted till four o'clock. O'Connell made a furious speech, and Dawson the other evening another, talking of resistance and of his readiness to join in it. This drew up Peel, who had spoken before, and who, when attacked with cries of 'Spoke!' said, 'Yes, I have spoken, but I will say that no party considerations shall prevent my supporting Government in this measure, and giving them my cordial support.' He was furious with Dawson, and got up in order to throw him over, though he did not address himself to him, or to anything he had said expressly. John Russell spoke out what ought to have been said long ago, that the Church could not stand, but that the present clergyman must be paid. Both he and Duncannon are aware of the false position in which the Government is placed, pretending to legislate with a knowledge that their laws cannot be enforced, and the latter said that, whatever might be done, the Irish would take nothing at the hands of Stanley. It is unfortunate that his attachment to the Church makes him the unfittest man in the country to manage Irish affairs, and he has contrived to make himself so personally unpopular that with the best intentions he could not give satisfaction. Under these circ.u.mstances his remaining there is impossible, but what is to be done with him? He is of such importance in the House of Commons that they cannot part with him. I asked John Russell why they did not send Hobhouse to Ireland and make Stanley Secretary of War. He said would he consent to exchange? that he was tired of office, and would be glad to be out. I said I could not suppose in such an emergency that he would allow any personal considerations to influence him, and that he would consent to whatever arrangement would be most beneficial to the Government and conducive to the settlement of Irish affairs. The truth is (as I told him) that they are, with respect to Ireland, in the situation of a man who has got an old house in which he can no longer live, not tenable; various architects propose this and that alteration, to build a room here and pull down one there, but at last they find that all these alterations will only serve to make the house habitable a little while longer, that the dry rot is in it, and that they had better begin, as they will be obliged to end, by pulling it down and building up a new one. He owned this was true, but said that here another difficulty presented itself with regard to Stanley--whether he would, as a leading member of the Cabinet, consent to any measures which might go so much further than he would be disposed to do. I said that I could not imagine (whatever might be his predilections) that his mind was not awakened to the necessity of giving way to the state of things, and that he might consent to measures which he felt he was not a fit person to introduce and recommend. He a.s.sented to this. He then talked of the views of the Protestants, of the Lefroys, &c., that they began to admit the necessity of a change, but by no means would consent to the alienation of Church property from Protestant uses, that they were willing where there was a large parish consisting entirely of Catholics that the t.i.thes should be taken from the rector of such parish and given to one who had a large Protestant flock--an arrangement which would disgust the Catholics as much as or more than any other, and be considered a perfect mockery. The fact is we may s.h.i.+ft and change and wriggle about as much as we will, we may examine and report and make laws, but t.i.the, the t.i.the system is at an end.
The people will not pay them, and there are no means of compelling them. The march of events is just as certain as that of the seasons. The question which is said to be beset with difficulties is in fact very easy--that is, its difficulties arise from conflicting interests and pa.s.sions, and not from the uncertainty of its operation and end. Those conflicting pa.s.sions are certainly very great and very embarra.s.sing, and it is no easy matter to deal with them, but it seems to me that the wisest policy is to keep our eyes steadfastly fixed on the end, and, admitting the inevitable conclusion, labour to bring it about with the smallest amount of individual loss, the greatest general benefit, and the best chance of permanence and stability. By casting lingering looks at the old system, and endeavouring to save something here and there, by allowing the Church to remain in the rags and tatters of its old supremacy, we shall foster those hostile feelings which it is essential to put down for ever, and leave the seeds of grievance and hatred to spring up in a future harvest of agitation and confusion.
July 25th, 1832 {p.311}
Nothing of moment has occurred lately; the dread of cholera absorbs everybody. Mrs. Smith, young and beautiful, was dressed to go to church on Sunday morning, when she was seized with the disorder, never had a chance of rallying, and died at eleven at night. This event, shocking enough in itself from its suddenness and the youth and beauty of the person, has created a terrible alarm; many people have taken flight, and others are suspended between their hopes of safety in country air and their dread of being removed from metropolitan aid. The disease spreads gradually in all directions in town and country, but without appearing like an epidemic; it is scattered and uncertain; it brings to light horrible distress. We, who live on the smooth and plausible surface, know little of the frightful appearance of the bowels of society.
Don Pedro has never been heard of since he landed, and n.o.body seems much to care whether he or Miguel succeed. The Tories are for the latter and the Whigs for the former. In a fourth debate on the Russian Dutch Loan Ministers got a good finale, a large division, and a brilliant speech from Stanley, totally unprepared and prodigiously successful. Nothing could be worse in point of tactics than
July 29th, 1832 {p.312}
[Page Head: QUARREL BETWEEN BROUGHAM AND SUGDEN.]
There has been a great breeze between the Chancellor and Sugden, abusing and retorting upon each other from their respective Houses of Parliament. As all personal matters excite greater interest than any others, so has this. Scott, Lord Eldon's son, died, and his places became vacant. Brougham had recommended their abolition long ago in his evidence before the House of Commons, and both publicly and privately. Some days ago Sugden gave notice to Horne (Solicitor-General) that he meant to put a question to him in the House of Commons as to whether these appointments were to be filled up or not, but before he did so (at four o'clock in the morning) the writ was moved for James Brougham, who had been put by the Chancellor in Scott's place.
Accordingly the next day Sugden attacked the appointment in the House of Commons, and though he was by way of only asking a question, he in fact made a long vituperative speech. n.o.body was there to reply. Althorp said he knew nothing of the matter, and various speeches were made, all expressive of a desire that the appointment should only be temporary. Horne (it seems) had never told the Chancellor what Sugden said, and Denman, who had no authority from him, did not dare get up and say that it was not to be permanent. Later in the day, having received instructions from the Chancellor, he did get up and say so. The next day Brougham introduced the subject in the House of Lords, and attacked Sugden with all the sarcasm and contumely which he could heap upon him, comparing him to 'a crawling reptile,' &c. Not one of his Tory friends said a word, and, what is curious, the Duke of Wellington praised Brougham for his disinterestedness, and old Eldon defended the place. The following day (Friday) Sugden again brought the matter before the House of Commons, complained bitterly of the Chancellor's speech, was called to order by Stanley, when the Speaker interfered, and, dexterously turning Sugden's attack upon the newspaper report, enabled him to go on.
A violent discussion followed, rather awkward for the Chancellor, whose friends endeavoured to soften the thing down by denying the accuracy of the report. After much acrimonious debate the matter ended. Yesterday the 'Times,' throwing over Brougham and Sugden, a.s.serted the accuracy of its own reporter, and declared that whether the Chancellor was right or wrong to have uttered them, the words were spoken by him exactly as they had been reported.
Both parties are furious, but on the whole the Chancellor seems at present to have the worst of it, for it is worse for a man in his station to be in the wrong, and more indecent to be scurrilous, than for an individual who is nothing. Sugden now declares he will bring on a motion he has long meditated on the subject of the Court of Chancery, in which he will exhibit to the world the whole conduct of Brougham since he has held the Great Seal, his early haste and precipitation, his recent carelessness and delay, his ignorance, inattention, and incompetence for the office he holds. In this he expects to be supported by Wetherell, Knight, and Pemberton, three of the most eminent Chancery lawyers, while Brougham has n.o.body but Horne (of the profession) to defend him. If this should occur he may thank himself, for he would put Horne there.
Sir Charles Bagot called on me yesterday; told me that he thought the Belgian question was at last on the point of being settled, that the King of Holland had made 'the great concession,' and that the rest must soon follow, that he had never pa.s.sed two such years amidst such difficulties, the King so obstinate. His view was that by holding out and maintaining a large army events would produce war, and that he would be able to sell himself to some one of the contending parties, getting back Belgium as the price of his aid, that he now only gave in because not a hope was left, that the difficulties were so great that it was not the fault of this Government that matters were not settled before. I asked him how the Dutch had contrived to make such an exertion. He said it was very creditable to them, but that they were very rich and very frugal, and had lugged out their h.o.a.rds. They had saddled themselves with a debt the interest of which amounts to about 700,000 a year--a good deal for two millions of people.
August 1st, 1832 {p.314}
[Page Head: BROUGHAM'S RESENTMENT.]
Here is an anecdote exhibiting the character of Brougham, hot, pa.s.sionate, and precipitate. He is preparing his Bill for the amendment of the Court of Chancery, by which the patronage is to be done away with. Compensation was to be given to the present interests, but upon this recent affair between Sugden and him, to revenge himself upon men who are all or mostly of Sugden's party, he ordered the compensation clauses to be struck out. Sefton (who is a sort of Sancho to him) came up to dinner quite elated at having heard the order given. 'I wish,' said he, 'you had heard a man treated as I did in the Chancellor's room. He came in to ask him about the Bill he was drawing up. "I suppose the compensation clauses are to be put in?" "Compensation?" said Brougham. "No, by G.o.d; no compensation. Leave them out, if you please. They chose to attack me, and they shall have enough of it."' And what will be the end of all this--that the Chancellor shows his spite and commits himself, shows that he is influenced in legislation by personal feelings, and incurs the suspicion that because he cannot get a compensation for his brother he is resolved n.o.body else shall have any? Althorp's speech about the pensions on Monday set at rest the question of compensation, and if these offices are abolished the Chancellor cannot prevent their getting it. In the House of Lords the eternal Russian Dutch Loan came on again. The Duke made a speech and Wynford made a speech, and they were opposed to each other; the Duke hit the right nail on the head, and took that course which he frequently does, and which is such a redeeming quality in his political character--addressed himself to the _question itself_, to the real merits of it, without making it a mere vehicle for annoying the Government.
Aberdeen sneered, but when the Duke throws over his people they can do nothing.
August 8th, 1832 {p.315}
Pedro's expedition, which always has hobbled along, and never exhibited any of that dash which is essential to the success of such efforts, may be considered hopeless; Palmella arrived here a day or two ago, very low, and the Regency scrip has fallen four per cent. n.o.body joins them, and it seems pretty clear that, one _coquin_ for another, the Portuguese think they may as well have Miguel. The Dutch affair is not yet settled, but on the point of it; for the fiftieth time a 'little hitch' has again arisen. Last night, in the House of Lords, the Chancellor, in one of his most bungling ways, made what he meant to be a sort of _amende_ to Sugden, making the matter rather worse than it was before, at least for his own credit, for he said that 'he had never intended to give pain, which he of all things abhorred,' and that he had not been at all in a pa.s.sion--both false, and the latter being in fact his only excuse. I sat next to Melbourne at dinner, who concurred in the judgment of the world on the whole transaction, and said, 'The real truth is, he was in a great rage, for he had forgotten all his own evidence and his own speeches, and he meant to have kept the place.' This evidence from his own colleague and friend is conclusive, and will be a nice morsel for the future biographer of Brougham.
I dined at Holland House yesterday; a good many people, and the Chancellor came in after dinner, looking like an old clothes man and dirty as the ground. We had a true Holland House dinner, two more people arriving (Melbourne and Tom Duncombe) than there was room for, so that Lady Holland had the pleasure of a couple of general squeezes, and of seeing our arms prettily pinioned. Lord Holland sits at table, but does not dine. He proposed to retire (not from the room), but was not allowed, for that would have given us all s.p.a.ce and ease. Lord Holland told some stories of Johnson and Garrick which he had heard from Kemble. Johnson loved to bully Garrick, from a recollection of Garrick's former impertinence. When Garrick was in the zenith of his popularity, and grown rich, and lived with the great, and while Johnson was yet obscure, the Doctor used to drink tea with him, and he would say, 'Davy, I do not envy you your money nor your fine acquaintance, but I envy you your power of drinking such tea as this.' 'Yes,'
said Garrick, 'it is very good tea, but it is not my best, nor that which I give to my Lord this and Sir somebody t'other.'
Johnson liked Fox because he defended his pension, and said it was only to blame in not being large enough. 'Fox,' he said, 'is a liberal man; he would always be "aut Caesar aut nullus;"
whenever I have seen him he has been _nullus_.' Lord Holland said Fox made it a rule never to talk in Johnson's presence, because he knew all his conversations were recorded for publication, and he did not choose to figure in them.
August 12th, 1832 {p.317}
The House of Commons has finished (or nearly) its business.
Althorp ended with a blunder. He brought in a Bill to extend the time for payment of rates and for voters under the new Bill, and because it was opposed he abandoned it suddenly; his friends are disgusted. Robarts told me that the Bank Committee had executed their laborious duties in a spirit of great cordiality, and with a general disposition to lay aside all political differences and concur in accomplis.h.i.+ng the best results; a good thing, for it is in such transactions as these, which afford an opportunity for laying aside the bitterness of party and the rancorous feelings which animate men against each other, that the only chance can be found of a future amalgamation of public men. He told me that the evidence all went to prove that little improvement could be made in the management of the Bank.
[Page Head: CHARACTER OF MACAULAY.]
Dined yesterday at Holland House; the Chancellor, Lord Grey, Luttrell, Palmerston, and Macaulay. The Chancellor was sleepy and would not talk; he uttered nothing but yawns and grunts. Macaulay and Allen disputed history, particularly the character of the Emperor Frederick II., and Allen declared himself a Guelph and Macaulay a Ghibelline. Macaulay is a most extraordinary man, and his astonis.h.i.+ng knowledge is every moment exhibited, but (as far as I have yet seen of him, which is not sufficient to judge) he is not _agreeable_. His propositions and his allusions are rather too abrupt; he starts topics not altogether naturally; then he has none of the graces of conversation, none of that exquisite tact and refinement which are the result of a felicitous intuition or a long acquaintance with good society, or more probably a mixture of both. The mighty ma.s.s of his knowledge is not animated by that subtle spirit of taste and discretion which alone can give it the qualities of lightness and elasticity, and without which, though he may have the power of instructing and astonis.h.i.+ng, he never will attain that of delighting and captivating his hearers. The dinner was agreeable, and enlivened by a squabble between Lady Holland and Allen, at which we were all ready to die of laughing. He jeered at something she said as brutal, and chuckled at his own wit.
Shepperton, August 31st, 1832 {p.318}
I came here last Sunday to see my father, who (my mother wrote me word) had been unwell for a day or two. I got here at four o'clock (having called on Madame de Lieven at Richmond on the way), and when I arrived I found my father at the point of death. He was attacked as he had often been before; medicines afforded him no relief, and nothing would stay on his stomach. On Sat.u.r.day violent spasms came on, which occasioned him dreadful pain; they continued intermittingly till Sunday afternoon, when as they took him out of bed to put him in a warm bath, he fainted. From this state of insensibility he never recovered, and at half-past twelve o'clock he expired. My brothers were both here. I sent an express for my sister, who was at Malvern, and she arrived on Tuesday morning.
Dr. Dowdeswell was in the house, and he stayed on with us and did all that was required. This morning he was buried in the church of this village, close to the house, in the simplest manner, and was followed to the grave by my brothers and brother-in-law, Dowdeswell, Ives, the doctor who attended him, and the servants.
He had long been ailing, and at his age (nearly 70 years) this event was not extraordinary, but it was shocking, because so sudden and unexpected, and no idea of danger was entertained by himself or those about him. My father had some faults and many foibles, but he was exposed to great disadvantages in early youth; his education was neglected and his disposition was spoilt. His father was useless, and worse than useless, as a parent, and his mother (a woman of extraordinary capacity and merit) died while he was a young man, having been previously separated from her husband, and having retired from the world.[11] The circ.u.mstances of his marriage, and the incidents of his life, would be interesting to none but his own family, and need not be recorded by me. He was a man of a kind, amiable, and liberal disposition, and what is remarkable, as he advanced in years his temper grew less irritable and more indulgent; he was cheerful, hospitable, and unselfish. He had at all times been a lively companion, and without much instruction, extensive information, or a vigorous understanding, his knowledge of the world in the midst of which he had pa.s.sed his life, his taste and turn for humour, and his good-nature made him a very agreeable man. He had a few intimate friends to whom he was warmly attached, a host of acquaintance, and I do not know that he had a single enemy. He was an affectionate father, and ready to make any sacrifices for the happiness and welfare of his children--in short, he was amiable and blameless in the various relations of life, and he deserved that his memory should be cherished as it is by us with sincere and affectionate regret.
[11] [Mr. Charles Greville, senior, was the fifth son of Fulk Greville of Wilbury, by Frances Macartney, a lady of some literary reputation as the auth.o.r.ess of an 'Ode to Indifference.' She was the daughter of General Macartney. Horace Walpole speaks of her as one of the beauties of his time. She died in 1789. Mr. Greville may have inherited from her his strong literary tastes.]
September 18th, 1832 {p.319}
[Page Head: ANECDOTES OF PRINCESS CHARLOTTE.]
I have been in London, at Shepperton, and twice at Brighton to see Henry de Ros; came back yesterday. The world is half asleep. Lord Howe returns to the Queen as her Chamberlain, and that makes a sensation. I met at Brighton Lady Keith [Madame de Flahaut], who told us a great deal about French politics, which, as she is a partisan, was not worth much, but she also gave us rather an amusing account of the early days of the Princess Charlotte, at the time of her escape from Warwick House in a hackney coach and taking refuge with her mother, and of the earlier affair of Captain Hess. The former escapade arose from her determination to break off her marriage with the Prince of Orange, and that from her falling suddenly in love with Prince Augustus of Prussia, and her resolving to marry him and n.o.body else, not knowing that he was already married _de la main gauche_ in Prussia. It seems that she speedily made known her sentiments to the Prince, and he (notwithstanding his marriage) followed the thing up, and had two interviews with her at her own house, which were contrived by Miss Knight, her governess. During one of these Miss Mercer arrived, and Miss Knight told her that Prince Augustus was with the Princess in her room, and what a fright she (Miss Knight) was in.
Miss Mercer, who evidently had no mind anybody should conduct such an affair for the Princess but herself, pressed Miss Knight to go and interrupt them, which on her declining she did herself. The King (Regent as he was then) somehow heard of these meetings, and measures of coercion were threatened, and it was just when an approaching visit from him had been announced to the Princess that she went off. Miss Mercer was in the house at the time, and the Regent, when he came, found her there. He accused her of being a party to the Princess's flight, but afterwards either did or pretended to believe her denial, and sent her to fetch the Princess back, which after many _pourparlers_ and the intervention of the Dukes of York and Suss.e.x, Brougham, and the Bishop of Salisbury, her preceptor, was accomplished at two in the morning.
Hess's affair was an atrocity of the Princess of Wales. She employed him to convey letters to her daughter while she used to ride in Windsor Park, which he contrived to deliver, and occasionally to converse with her; and on one occasion, at Kensington, the Princess of Wales brought them together in her own room. The Princess afterwards wrote him some letters, not containing much harm, but idle and improper. When the Duke of York's affair with Mrs. Clark came out, and all the correspondence, she became very much alarmed, told Miss Mercer the whole story, and employed her to get back her letters to Hess. She accordingly wrote to Hess (who was then in Spain), but he evinced a disinclination to give them up. On his return to England she saw him, and on his still demurring she threatened to put the affair into the Duke of York's hands, which frightened him, and then he surrendered them, and signed a paper declaring he had given up everything. The King afterwards heard of this affair, and questioning the Princess, she told him everything. He sent for Miss Mercer, and desired to see the letters, and then to keep them. This she refused. This Captain Hess was a short, plump, vulgar-looking man, afterwards lover to the Queen of Naples, mother of the present King, an amour that was carried on under the auspices of the Margravine at her villa in the Strada Nova at Naples. It was, however, detected, and Hess was sent away from Naples, and never allowed to return. I remember finding him at Turin (married), when he was lamenting his hard fate in being excluded from that _Paradiso_ Naples.
September 28th, 1832 {p.321}
[Page Head: BELGIUM, SPAIN, FRANCE.]