Chapter XVIII (2)

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

[Sidenote: DIFFICULTIES OF THE GOVERNMENT.]

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

[Footnote 97: He made use of a curiously strong expression, for he
said amounting to a question of _salvation_.]

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

[Sidenote: BIRKENHEAD.]

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

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

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

[Sidenote: WIESBADEN.]

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

[Footnote 98: [The Queen gave a fancy ball on June 6th, at which
all the persons invited appeared in costumes of the time of George
II.]]

[Footnote 99: [Mr. Greville's horse 'Alarm' was first favourite
for the Derby, and but for this accident would probably have won
the race. It was a painful scene, when the horse was seen rushing
wildly, without his rider, across the Downs. Mr. Greville never won
the Derby.]]

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

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

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

[Sidenote: EMS AND ANTWERP.]

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

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

[Footnote 100: This feeling is now ten times greater than it was
then. I had forgotten that I had it so long ago, and within the
last two years it is enormously and painfully increased (1854).]

[Footnote 101: [Afterwards Sophia, Queen of Holland, one of the
most accomplished and agreeable women of her age.]]

[Footnote 102: [Lord and Lady Francis Egerton, afterwards Earl and
Countess of Ellesmere.]]

[Sidenote: LORD MELBOURNE'S CONVERSATION.]

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

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

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

[Sidenote: INDIFFERENCE TO POLITICS.]

I have said that what are called politics are out of fashion; there is no public man a jot more popular than another; nobody cares about parties, for there is no party distinguished by any peculiar badge of principle, with a distinct colour, and standing in open and defined antagonism to any other; none which has any great object to advance--constitutional, political, or commercial--in opposition to another party ranged against it. All is confusion, intermingling of principles and opinions, political rivalry and personal antipathy, the working of which produces, from time to time, something brisk and exciting, and a good deal of clever speaking and writing, interesting enough to the immediate actors, but which the mass of the country does not care a straw about. The world is absorbed by its material interests, railroads, and speculation in its multiform aspect, and it is in vain that John Russell reviews the session and delivers philippics against Peel; still more in vain that Palmerston harangues upon the Right of Search, Texas, Greece, or Spain, and endeavours to rouse the public indignation or contempt against Aberdeen and his foreign policy. It all falls dead and flat, and nobody takes the slightest interest in orations, though they are prepared with indefatigable industry and delivered with extraordinary skill.

[Footnote 103: Thus coming events cast their shadows before.
Peel says: 'I had adopted at an early period of my public life,
_without, I fear, much serious reflexion_, the opinions generally
prevalent at this time among men of all parties as to the justice
and necessity of protection to British agriculture....'--_Memoirs_,
p. 98. 'Between the passing of the Corn Bill in 1842 and the close
of the Session in 1845 the opinions I had previously entertained
had undergone a great change.'...(101).]

_London, August 28th._--I came from Broadlands last Saturday; went to see Lord Granville at Roehampton; to Hinchinbrook on Monday, and returned yesterday. I had no conversation with Melbourne himself at Broadlands, who was generally taciturn, but Frederic Lamb told me Melbourne was dissatisfied because they had not appointed a Regency when the Queen went abroad, and fancied if they had explained to her the necessity or propriety of it, she would not have objected. Melbourne never can speak of the Queen without tears coming into his eyes; he is, however, in a very nervous, lachrymose state. I met him at dinner yesterday, and he said that the Queen had a regard for Lady Conyngham, and felt grateful to her for her conduct to her mother and herself in George IV.'s time. It was through her influence that they were invited to his Court, and that any civilities were shown them.

_August 30th._--I was just setting off to Tottenham Park yesterday, when Graham sent for me. It was about the affair of the Guernsey duties, concerning which the Government have got into a scrape. The whole revenue of the island is derived from a duty on wine and spirits, which is imposed by an Act of the States, confirmed by an Order in Council, and it is imposed for a year more or less, and from time to time continued by subsequent Acts and Orders. The last Act expires the day after to-morrow. The Queen is in Germany, and there is no power to renew it by Order in Council till she returns. The people in Guernsey are aware of the blot, and intend to avail themselves of it to introduce spirits duty free. In this dilemma Graham sent for me, to desire I would search the Council books and see if there was any analogous case and any precedent for continuing the duty without an Order, and he had already sent to the Law Officers for their opinion whether an Order could be passed with a retroactive effect--meaning, if it could, to order an account to be taken meanwhile, and to levy the duty afterwards. I found him and the Chancellor of the Exchequer together. I told him that this matter would be infallibly taken up as proving the necessity there had been for a Regency, and that those who had argued for one would, of course, triumph in the proof thus afforded that they were right. He said he was well aware of this. I then told him Melbourne's opinion, and that he thought if the matter had been properly explained to the Queen, there would have been no difficulty in satisfying her. Goulburn said Peel was much annoyed, as he had particularly desired that everything there was to be done should be brought to the last Council, and notice be served on all the offices to that effect, and he thought the fault lay with the Council Office. This I denied, and Graham at once said it was _his_ fault if anybody's. The fault really lies with the people of Guernsey, whom it immediately concerns. I looked into the books, and found there was an analogous case, in which the same duties had expired, and orders were sent to levy them, with a notification that an Order in Council would be passed as soon as a Council could be held. It was a case exactly in point as to the principle, but differed in some of the official details. I went to Graham and found the Attorney-General there. He had brought the opinion of himself and the Queen's Advocate, which, much to my surprise, was, that an Order in Council might be made with a retroactive effect, and accordingly Graham determined to act upon this opinion, and to signify, by a letter to the Government, that an Order would be passed to renew the duties as soon as the Queen came home. I proposed to him to let the communication go from the Council Office, following the former precedent, and suggesting that they would be more disposed to defer to the authority of the Privy Council, to which they are used to look up, than to that of the Secretary of State, against which they are disposed to kick, but he said it was impossible to summon a committee. I said three were enough, and there were himself, Goulburn, and Haddington. He said Haddington would be frightened out of his senses at the notion of the responsibility, and he would rather take it all upon himself, and so he had the letter written. This is, however, enough to prove that no foresight can provide against all the contingencies which may require the exercise of the Royal authority; that it would have been safer and wiser _stetisse super antiquas vias_, to have followed former precedents, and not to have departed from them.

_September 3rd._--I read in the newspapers the day before yesterday an account of a lad brought up for not supporting his child. The father was fifteen or sixteen years old, the mother a year or two less, and the grandmother of the child--the girl's mother--appeared, who was twenty-nine years old, and had had fourteen children. This seems to me curious enough to be worth recording. There appear from time to time many odd and remarkable things, which would be well worth noticing, and which are hurried down and lost in the stream of events. If I were not too idle I would record them, for really I have no political transactions to speak of, as I am not in the way of knowing anything secret or interesting.

[Sidenote: DEATH OF LORD SPENCER.]