Chapter VIII: Part 8

This letter would be unintelligible without the key of Beauharnais’ letter to his mother. After much affection, he says the General has been _triste_ for many days, but more so since an ‘entretien particulier avec Berthier.’ His melancholy proceeds from ‘chagrins domestiques,’ aggravated by stories told him by Berthier, who informed him that Mde. Bonaparte had brought ‘Charles’ (who is he?) in her carriage from Plombières to within three posts of Paris, and that she had gone ‘au quatrième aux Italiens’ with him, and various other little trifles amounting to ‘confirmation, strong as proofs in Holy Writ,’ to a jealous mind. In short, it appears that Berthier has acted Iago, and that the conqueror of Italy is as jealous as a Turk. The son-in-law [_sic_] adds that the only difference in B.’s behaviour towards him is a _redoublement_ of kindness if possible. These letters are not to be published; it perhaps would be as handsome if the Ministers sent them to their respective addresses.

_6th Nov., 1798._--Ld. H. has been laid up for 5 days by a very severe fit of the gout. It is a hard thing to suffer thus before five and twenty, and it is the more distressing as he lives at all times so reasonably that diet can do little for him in future. Strong exercise and frequent jaunts to a warm climate may mitigate future attacks.

General Fitzpatrick and Mr. Hare are staying with us a few days; we have had the ladies constantly during this last week. In point of society it is impossible to be better than ours--enough, and that of the best sort, and yet not too numerous.

The scandalous world are occupied with Lady Abercorn’s adventures. Ld. A.[228] seems to take the affair coolly and is inclined to behave well. The first is a disappointment, as people hoped his pride would be so galled that he would afford some sport to the wags, but he wisely enough seems of the opinion of La Fontaine, ‘Quand on l’ignore, ce n’est rien, et quand on le sait, c’est peu de chose.’ His absurd vanity has made him more conspicuous than he could have been otherwise. Before he married the lady in question he loved her. Some strange fancy induced him to wish her to have the rank and title of an earl’s daughter; he obtained it for her. Somebody asked Mr. Pitt how he would grant so strange a request.[229] He said he thought himself lucky to be let off so cheaply, for when he came, he looked so menacing and seemed so big with an important demand, that he thought he meant to ask for the Electoral vote for the Empire. (It was just upon Leopold’s death.)

_Nov. 13th._--La Harpe is a pleasant, critical writer. Admirable as Voltaire is, perhaps he is too servile in his admiration, and, like a zealous friend he defends a weak part as eagerly as if it were a perfection. One cannot but smile at his praise of Voltaire for a merit he certainly did not possess, _diffidence_.[230] He attacks Piron with severity and truth. Piron deserved every invective. It was best using his own weapons against him, for his epigrams deserve more to be reckoned scurrilous libels than witty satires. He determined to write one every morning before breakfast against Voltaire. In the number some must be good; those I have read are coarse abuse, full of jeers at personal defects. They tell a reply of his to Voltaire which is neat. They were at the theatre together at the first representation of one of Voltaire’s plays which failed. In going out Voltaire asked Piron what he thought of his piece, ‘Je pense que vous voudriez que je l’eusse faite.’ His epitaph upon himself, when refused admittance among the 40 Academicians, is good:--

C’y gît, qui ne fut rien,
Pas même académicien.

[Sidenote: STATE OF OPPOSITION]

_Nov. 20th._--To-day Parliament opens. Ld. H., tho’ still weak, is gone down, and will, I believe, speak. In the Commons, Ld. Granville makes his maiden oratorical essay. These sessions will be diverting to a bystander. Tierney, notwithstanding his very superior abilities, is more perplexed than any of them. He cannot stand ridicule, and dares not alone without any support encounter the _flings_, as he calls them, about O’Connor. Therefore he means to begin first, and declare his error in having thought favourably of him; in short, to say he is a rogue and deceived him. The world are so illiberal that a recantation is more frequently ascribed to timidity than it is to candour. He will not gain one convert, but will excite many laughers.

True it is that those who are adverse to Ministry are in a lamentable plight. The discussion among Opposition and the crumbling of the whole party placed them in a ludicrous situation, and the brilliant state of the country, so contrary to their predictions, adds to the ridicule. All opposition must be unpopular, for tho’ in the abstract the real _griefs_ exist, yet the immediate successes, both in Ireland and against the French, efface the gloomy sight. The spirit of the Constitution, I sincerely believe, is lost, and those who care about political liberty must be contented and no longer struggle for what the majority are disposed to yield up.

Tierney told me he was surprised to find Lord Moira, in spite of his _chevaleresque_ manner, at times betrayed into merriment. He dined with him for the first time lately. Ld. M. told a story that happened at his own house, to illustrate the excess of French politeness. After dinner he proposed to the Duc de Luxembourg to taste some excellent _marasquin_ that had been sent him from the Martinique. The Duke said, ‘Volontiers.’ The bottle was brought, and a glass swallowed by ye D., upon whose countenance, however, there appeared strong marks of disgust, tho’ he bowed assent to all that was said in praise of the liquor. His silent approbation made Ld. M. taste it, and, to his astonishment he found it was castor-oil; the butler had mixed the bottles. Thus his good breeding saved his vomiting.

Dr. Brocklesby’s servant consumed a rare sort of castor-oil in making the salad, and when the Doctor, tortured by the colic, asked the relief, he was told he had eaten the last drop at dinner.

Jekyll told a story of Lord Kenyon[231] that is in character with his notorious stinginess and meanness. A ruined barrister was selling off his goods in his chambers in the Temple. The learned judge sent his son to purchase bargains. In a corner he spied two dirty globes. He asked what they were. ‘Oh,’ said the decayed lieut. of the law, ‘they are good for nothing; they are old, and half the countries now known are marked with lions and tigers as “Terra incognita.”’ ‘Never mind,’ replied the young K., ‘my father is not wise about new discoveries; provided they are globes and have a Zodiac, they will do for him.’ Ld. K., has a filthy trick of sniffing, instead of blowing his nose. Hare said the Assessed Taxes have made him retrench his pocket-handkerchiefs.

[Sidenote: MR. NICHOLL]

There is a strange man in the House of Commons, who is distinguished by being the particular object of the satire in the _Anti-Jacobin_ and having devoted himself most especially to Tierney during the last sessions, a Mr. Nicholl. His opinions upon the state of Europe have at least the merit of singularity. The Emperor of Russia imputes it to shoe-strings and round hats; Dr. Ingenhousz to freemasonry; but Mr. Nicholl ascribes all the disorders to the great families. ‘Aye, Sir,’ said he to Tierney, ‘unless they are crushed nothing can be done.’ He has explicitly protested to Tierney that unless he will bring forward a motion to that effect, he must no longer count upon his support. He called three times in one morning to obtain T.’s answer. Each time, like Dick in _The Confederacy_, ‘I’ll call a coach,’ then, ‘I’ll call a coach,’ he declared he would retire to his farm, and cultivate sour land. ‘I’ll go; I certainly will, Sir. These great families, this oligarchy, destroy us, Sir. Yes, Sir, they oppress us. Why look at them individually? Have they any single merit? Why, there is Ld. Fitzwilliam, a flat retailer in dull prose of Burke’s poetical, mad flights: has he not plunged us in this war? There’s Ld. Spencer recovering from epilepsy, merely to squander thousands upon an early edition. As to the house of Russell, Sir, Mr. Burke has handled them properly. The Cavendishes, Sir, are so notoriously stupid that they blunt satire; but see the head of them, Sir, the D. of Devonshire. Sir, why, I assure you I am credibly informed, I have it from the best authority, Sir, that he is a _mere sensualist_.’ (I wrote this to Chatsworth. The Duke, who, in fact, was paying for this said sensuality, laughed on his sick bed heartily.)

This shows the _travers_ of the human mind. Nicholl’s understanding has not kept pace with events. Sixty years ago, when he first flourished in manhood, the cry might have had some foundation. Sir Robert Walpole and the great Whigs did monopolise, from the Cabinet down to the turnpikes’ keepers. But since Lord Chatham, and, more particularly, his son’s Administration, the policy has been to annihilate all family unions; indeed, there is not a man of the Corresponding Society more bitter against the aristocracy than Pitt and Canning are. Pelham has resigned the Secretaryship, and the gentle Castlereagh, at the recommendation of Ld. Cornwallis, is to keep it as a principal, no longer as _locum tenens_.[232]

I have been reading French literature of a desultory sort and in a desultory way, both pernicious to the mind; for, by confusing the memory, it destroys the powers of the understanding. I can speak from experience, as I have completely obscured my faculty by too great an avidity to read, or, rather, devour books, without any method in my pursuits. My memory is seriously injured. I do not complain so much of it, as I always bear in mind La Rochefoucauld’s sarcasm, that everyone ‘se plaint de la foiblesse de leur mémoire,’ but ‘personne de celle de leur jugement.’

[Sidenote: COUNT RUMFORD]

Count Rumford, a celebrated man in the annals of science, is come to England, but grievously disappointed at the reception he has met with.[233] He is by birth an American. General Fox recollects his coming down from the interior settlements to the English fort where he commanded. The Indians had sacked his village, and he flew for protection. He was a rude, gawky, Puritanical colonial schoolmaster, astonished at seeing the number of brick houses, and delighted with the _splendour_ of the style of living in the garrison; but with all his simplicity, he was slyly awake to his interest, for when he claimed a reward for his loyalty he chose a district full of red oaks, saying he loved picturesque views. It was a lucky coincidence of profit and beauty. Red oaks are the only valuable timber in that country. When he came to England he continued to ingratiate himself into Ld. Sackville’s favour. He soon became, from private secretary, the most confidential person about him. It was either on account of a quarrel with, or at the death of, his patron, that he went upon the Continent _pour chercher fortune_. He fell in at Munich with ye Elector, who thought he might be useful in making reforms in his government. In the course of a few years he was, in fact, the sovereign in Bavaria. His establishments were excellent, and he may boast of having been of more essential benefit to mankind than most of those who stand high in the records of fame. He corrected the abuses which allowed an indolent, starving beggary, and he fed and employed them all.

When I knew him at Munich he was in the zenith of success. Subsequent to that period the Elector married; his interest clashed with that of the young Electress. He solicited to be appointed Minister from thence to this Court, and was. A quarter of an hour after he arrived, Canning called upon him, and informed him that he was not to be received in the diplomatic capacity: first, because he was an English subject, and 2ndly, because having been in the Secretary of State’s office, it was contrary to the rules. He was horribly vexed, but the case admitted of no appeal. He is going to America for a short time. Whatever his failings may be, he is a most useful member of society, and mankind are bound to revere him. His last publications, a theory upon heat, are _warmly_ combated.

Browne, the traveller, who excited my curiosity, is returned. I hope to see him here one day soon. He has been into the interior parts of Africa: his observations are said to be good, but are not yet made public.

Lady E. Fitzgerald is returned to Hamburg. Her late husband’s family are to subscribe towards making her up an income; two of her children are left among the family.

La Fayette is labouring under great pecuniary embarrassments. Gen. Fitzpatrick is making up among his friends ye sum of 3000_l._: it will principally fall upon himself, D. of Bedford, Whitbread, Ld. Holland, and a few others. It is shabby in the Americans not to do something for a man who deserved well of them, at least. I confess there are many whose situation excite my compassion much more; but I think we shall ourselves be soon among the number of ye distressed, for the claims, applications, recommendations, etc., upon Ld. H. are too numerous to be thought of with common patience; besides that, the follies and extravagancies of those who ought to know better fall upon him too.

Oh! my dear children, fond as I am of ye all, I had sooner at this instant hear of your deaths, than that you should become gamesters and spendthrifts. No, not even with the specious accompaniments of a good head and temper, for of what avail is it to a parent that a child possesses both, if their conduct is as abominable as that of the vilest. If these walls could speak, how would they resound with the bitter cries and tears of aged parents, distracted in their last few years by the behaviour of _good-hearted_ sons, but more especially of one who is still renowned for an excellent heart. I know of two good-hearted persons who have been, and still are, a curse to their connections by bringing ruin and distress upon them.

[Sidenote: LORD WYCOMBE]

It is difficult to be in a more embarrassed situation with respect to Ld. Lansdown than we are in. Ld. Wycombe is come to England, calls here, and lives at Richmond, peremptorily refusing to see his father, that he may, as he calls it, _keep up a good understanding between them_. Mrs. W. is living at Richmond in a state of melancholy and despair that borders upon intellectual derangement, refusing to see anybody, even me. Wycombe’s behaviour to his father admits of no apology. Slight and disregard towards a parent is at all times a defenceless cause, but, under the present circumstances, far beyond the power of an excuse. He has just obtained from him all he wanted--independence, the sale of estates to pay off debts, and getting rid of a borough, and now he will not even pay to a father that respect due to his age and infirmities were he but a common acquaintance.

Ld. L., who has more _travers_ in his understanding than most men, and as many as his son,--_et c’est tout dire_, imagines that Mrs. W. is a most artful, designing person, and that she is the cause of Wycombe’s estrangement; that I, as her friend, assist in the machinations; and that Ld. H. is a dupe to us both. He fancies that I have great influence over Wycombe, and could persuade him to call if I chose, as he knows I once made him go to Bath to see him. _Per contra_, Wycombe believes that his father has what he calls ‘got me over,’ and that my entreaties that he should call upon him, instead of arising from my own conviction of the propriety of them for his character, are merely the effects of his father’s management. In short, they are both so wrong-headed, and so far wide of the simple truth, that I have resolved not to say another word. All I have done is proceeded from my gratitude to Ld. L. for his good-nature to me, and my regard for Wycombe. Ld. L., like all warm-hearted people, can never suppose the error to be in the person he loves, and he always shifts the fault to those he is connected with at the time. Wycombe’s conduct is atrocious. He is revenging upon old age and infirmity the little vexations he experienced in his youth.

Ld. L.’s notions upon many subjects are so extravagant that, unless I had proofs about some of them, I could not possibly credit that any person of common sense or knowledge of the world could entertain them. He looks upon Mrs. Smith’s[234] marriage as a _profligate abandonment_. What he admires is a woman of rank marrying her equal whom she rather dislikes, and conquering a partiality to another, but fulfilling all her duties scrupulously and punctiliously. Lady Warwick, who is in that predicament, is his highest object of admiration.

Smith and he do not harmonise exactly; both lofty tempers, one claiming a superiority the other is not disposed to yield to. He is a most impracticable man to act with in politics. He has had the merit of bringing forward many distinguished men, but from his complaints of their desertion and ingratitude one perceives how much he exacts dependence, and how unreasonable he is. He used always to complain that though he voted with ye Opposition, yet they never told him what they intended. Upon the breaking, or rather stoppage, of the Bank, Messrs. Fox, Grey, and Sheridan went to him to concert measures for the ensuing debate,[235] upon which he said, ‘I will tell you, gentlemen, very fairly, my opinion, which has always been for _publicity_ and _simplicity_.’ With these two words they were obliged to be contented and extract from them what meaning they could, if any they had. One day, when Grey was talking confidentially to him, he burst out suddenly, and said: ‘Aye, but I have had one, Mr. Grey, already slip through my fingers.’ Grey was in a great rage; he meant Pitt.

[Sidenote: MRS. SMITH]

Mrs. S. is a superannuated, prudish beauty. She has survived her _attraits_ without perceiving their dereliction, and what seems as odd, those about her are equally dim-sighted. Her sister, Ld. L., and even Miss Fox, speak of her charms as they might have done 15 years ago. She is what a lively Frenchman called ‘demoiselle froide.’ She has no conversation, and her understanding, like Ld. Burleigh’s, must be taken upon trust, as she is too profound to open. Those who live with her say she has wonderful capacity, but as it is known to only 2 or 3 persons, she must submit to the aspersion of being suspected of great dulness. _Au reste_, I believe she is a good sort of person. Her eagerness to marry Smith, and delight at having done so, betray more warmth than by her cold exterior one may presume. She likes to be suspected of feeling.

I suspect there is not a more inveterate lover of pleasure than a well-matured prude; great prudery generally argues a more than usual warmth of constitution. The wearer of prudery, being conscious there is much to hide, falls into the extreme of reserve, whereas a naturally-disposed person is not troubled with any forbidden temptations, and appears lively and sprightly without fear of incurring severe observations.

The rage for German plays still continues. The stage abounds with them, and the press is loaded with translations, and some, in point of morality, very questionable. One of the causes that create them in Germany occasions their being relished here. The same dull apathy of character that demands something extraordinary to rouse it subsists in both countries, as we have nothing to boast on the score of liveliness beyond the good, dull Germans.

The first German play I ever saw was at Innspruck. I did not understand a word that was said, but the incidents diverted me as much as the pantomime in a harlequin farce. Ye first four acts were crowded with murders by poisoning, strangling, stabbing, occasional screams, starts, and trapdoors; the fifth had all the solemn parade of _bourgeois_ death, the exposition of a corpse in a coffin, with all the relations, just as Partridge would have them, crying around. But mark the catastrophe. Just as the mournful attendants were going to assign the apparently breathless heroine to her peaceful mansion, up she jumped, to the great discomfiture of the surrounding parties, and to ye admiration of the audience strutted about in her shroud.

The monstrous extravagancies of the German drama would not have been endured at Paris. There they were refined enough to relish wit and sentiment. The obtuse faculties of the German are incapable of tasting the raillery of Molière or ye poetical harmony of Racine. Perhaps something may be imputed to their political situation, for there the limits or gradations are strictly preserved between the difft. classes, and a _bourgeois_ knows nothing of life but the dull diary of his own. Therefore fiction and bloody ribaldry is not more extraordinary or untrue to his comprehension than would be an ironical picture of the manners of his superiors. Ye sphere of fiction and German nobility are equally remote from his knowledge, one as the other. I do not mean by this to justify the arrogance of a French _Académicien_, who absolutely proposed the question, ‘Si un Allemand pouvait avoir d’esprit.’

_Louis Gauffier. pinx._ _Emery Walker Ph. sc._

_Elizabeth, third Lady Holland_

_1795_]

Ye theatre reminds me of a reply of Piron’s to Voltaire in coming out from ye _Semiramis_, which had some nights before been hissed. V. said: ‘You see, they have not hissed to-night.’ ‘Comment, voulez-vous qu’on siffle quand on bâille.’

[Sidenote: LORD G. LEVESON-GOWER]

_20th Nov._--Parliament met. Lord G. Leveson made his debut upon the Address; he did it uncommonly well, and was praised by the good judges on the opposite side to him. He is a man of mild, popular manners; without great force of intellect, but sufficiently endowed to distinguish himself and rise in politics. His family are accused of worldly wisdom, and have an uncommon share of that indefinable, useful quality, only to be rendered by the French word _tacte_. Ld. H. spoke, but was discontented with himself. He said Ld. Lansdown’s speech hampered him, for he did not like to contradict him, and yet he could not agree, as it breathed praise to the Ministers. In it he said, ‘_Rebellion and party are dead_.’ Mr. Hare said he coupled them like _robbery and murder_.

_21st._--Lord H. completed his twenty-fifth year. His sister, Ld. Ossory, General Fitzpatrick, Mrs. Crewe, Tierney, Hamilton, and Ld. Boringdon dined. In the evening Ly. Bessborough and Ld. Morpeth, and Ld. G. Leveson came; we were very merry.

I have been reading the _Memoir_, drawn up by the African Association, of Mungo Park’s journey. It is curious, as it proves that those who wrote 2000 years ago knew better the interior geography of Africa than we do, altho’ for many centuries their assertions were disbelieved.

_Dec. 8th._--D’Alembert’s _Éloges_ of the _Académiciens_ is full of excellent criticism, altho’ he was a mathematician, and might be suspected of requiring in a poet more precision than taste. That of Boileau is very entertaining; it not only contains criticisms of his works, but is full of philosophical observations upon human character and lively anecdotes. The title is disgusting. An _éloge_ implies a laboured panegyric upon the person who is the object, but he has adopted it only in conformity to the usage of ye French Academy, as, in fact, he has not spared Despréaux where a lash was called for. The futile prophecy of Despréaux’s father about him ought to serve as a lesson to parents not to indulge in predictions favourable or the contrary with regard to the abilities and character of their children. Who that has read Boileau can hear without a smile that it was of him that his father said, ‘Pour celui-ci, c’est un bon garçon qui ne dira jamais de mal de personne’? ‘On sent,’ says d’Alembert, ‘à quelle médiocrité sans ressource un père croit son fils condamné, quand il se borne à lui donner un éloge si modeste.’ Disgusted successively by jurisprudence and theology, he became a poet; and as if to belie his father he began by being a satirist, and by a trait of adroit flattery he converted into a friend the D. of Montausier, the declared enemy of raillery.

Mr. Fox came and slept here on ye 4th December to attend the Whig Club. He made a speech which has, if possible, added to his unpopularity. He was, in a way, called upon by a man who talked of the _deceptions of O’Connor_, to say something with regard to the evidence he gave at Maidstone. What he said as to that point was liberal and manly, but he unnecessarily added some sentences upon the application of those principles of liberty (which he professed maintaining in common with O’Connor) against the Governt. in Ireland. Very few of his friends attended; Grey and ye D. of Bedford would not go, thinking that as they did not take an active part in Parliament, it was wrong to do anything out of it. Ld. H. wishes, if possible, to abolish the Whig Club, more especially as the reason for which it was instituted subsists no longer, as Mr. Fox has completely seceded.

[Sidenote: GREY AND SECESSION]

Grey is the man who is placed in the most awkward situation. He now regrets the secession, yet to him, ye D. of Bedford, and Whitbread, is it owing, but most especially to him. He was the first suggester of it, and when Mr. Fox balanced (for he adopted the measure unwillingly, and now thinks it was very injudicious) he urged it vehemently. At present he is tired of inactivity, and wishes to attend, yet he feels a difficulty in doing so after all he has declared upon its inutility; besides that to the world it will always have the appearance of being a most deceitful line of conduct, to have gotten Mr. Fox pledged to absence, and then become a leader. Unless I knew him to be of an honest, open, warm-hearted character, I should myself suspect a little fraud, but I fully acquit him.

Grey, Tierney, Mr. Nicholl, and Francis dined here.

_18th Dec._--The Jesuits, who kept in a register notes upon the character and abilities of those whom they educated in order to govern the world, said in the margin on Crébillon the father, ‘Enfant plein d’esprit, insigne vaurien.’ He belied the prediction, as he was an excellent man in private life. His early passion for poetry, especially dramatic, disposed the judicious _procureur_, under whom he was placed to study the law, to encourage his natural taste in cultivating the Muses, instead of drudging through a mass of black-lettered folios. His first piece was tolerably received, tho’ ‘le caustique Despréaux’ said it was the work of ‘Racine ivre.’ Sarcastic as he intended the observation, it was flattering to a young author to have his name in any way coupled with that of the harmonious Racine. Many years afterwards he presented a tragedy to the theatre; it was objected to, as being too harsh and not suited to the public taste, and they advised him to adopt the style of Voltaire, which pleased everyone. He said, ‘Monsr. de Voltaire travaille en or moulu, et moi je jette en bronze.’ _Rhadamiste_ is one, if not quite the best of his tragedies, tho’ it is rugged in its versification, and turgid in expressions. The famous lines,

La Nature, marâtre en ces affreux climats,
Ne produit, au lieu d’or, que du fer des soldats,

are very fine, and have been happily imitated by Goldsmith in his _Traveller_ on Switzerland,

No product here the barren hills afford
But man and steel--the soldier and his sword.

On Sunday Marsh came. He intends staying a few days only. He is one of the most excellent men I know, and one towards whom I feel the most sincere friendship. The extreme simplicity of his character is very delightful. With a very good understanding and great information he is as unassuming as the most modest youth could be; but he has some violent prejudices that are very diverting. They are chiefly owing to the French Revolution. He has so great a dread of _French principles_ that he condemns everything that his ardent imagination can torture into a tendency towards them. His fancy is so good-humoured that it is more a scene of mirth than disputation when he gets upon the subject of politics. Yesterday the Bessbro’s dined here, Ld. Boringdon, and G. Leveson; Beauclerk came in ye evening and slept.

[Sidenote: MR. CANNING]

The Ministerialists praise Canning’s speech in reply to Tierney’s motion[236] to the skies, but it is the fault of friends to overrate, for as La Harpe says somewhere, ‘On affaiblit toujours tout ce qu’on exagère.’ Canning is very lively, writes pretty verses, and has a good deal of _local wit_, but I should suspect upon grave subjects which require depth and argument he is a _très petit monsieur_. The Opposition, who have not forgiven his desertion of them, exclaim at the venality of his politics.[237] I think they are unjust in accusing him of desertion, and he was wrong in point of judging the thing for his own reputation to make a bargain so soon. It was hard upon him that he was intimately connected with Sheridan, who chose to announce him to the world as his _élève_ in politics, and as a confirmation of his principles, repeated strong expressions and youthful sallies of his, saying that he should be pledged to Opposition before he was well of an age maturely to decide. Principle, I believe, did not sway him much. He found the party in a desperate, languishing state, himself full of ambition and life, and that in that party he must have contented himself with a very subaltern post; whereas the reputation that Sheridan, in his over-zeal, had anticipated for him made him an object worth getting to the others. He is, in his heart, the veriest Jacobin there is, and would, if he were not in power, manifest his principles in a most dangerous, innovating Opposition. He abhors titles, and the aristocracy of hereditary nobility; the lowness of his own extraction first made him envy, then wish to destroy, those whom chance has raised above him. The worst part of his character is his love of intrigue and management. He has made a little detached party out of the great party, that peculiarly belong to him. Over them he exerts an almost despotic sway, not only in their votes, but their opinions and conduct in the minutest concerns, such as who they must see and live with.

In this little set there is a want of wit, and as the topics are generally allusions to old jokes and practical witticisms that have occurred among themselves, they are quite unintelligible in mixed societies, where, unless the catch-word is known, two-thirds of the company must see them laugh without feeling the smallest tendency to share in their mirth. The Ellis’, Frere, Mr. Legge, Sneyd, Mr. Sturges, Ld. G. Leveson, and a few others, complete the select squad. Ld. Morpeth is of it also, but he wisely chooses to conduct himself without being interfered with, so he is not quite one of ye Elect.

Charles Ellis’[238] marriage was a blow upon his power; he ventured not only to fall in love, but to make his proposals without a previous consultation with the young Cato, the authority of whose little senate was infringed upon by such an overt act. There were fifty little ridiculous circumstances about that marriage that made one laugh at the time. The ceremony was absurdly pompous; carriages full of her relations accompanied them to the church. As soon as the ceremony was finished, the bride, who had, according to etiquette, been crying all the time, was kissed round by the family to be wished joy. Ld. ---- went up and consoled her, saying ‘Do not be frightened any longer, for now _all_ is over,’ upon which the jokers say Ly. ---- burst out into a flood of tears, recollecting but too well that _all_ finished there with her, for Ld. ---- has two projects, equally impracticable, that of marching at the head of a victorious army to Paris, and the other equally desperate, that of obtaining a son. It is a bold undertaking in C. Ellis to marry a Hervey, for they still keep up their strangeness of character that made a celebrated wit class mankind under the generic appellation of _men_, _women_, and _Herveys_.

[Sidenote: LORD BRISTOL]

That abominable, wicked old fellow, Lord Bristol, is still kept prisoner at Milan.[239] I believe, even in his confinement, he has contrived to make some miserable. He bribed his guards to let him escape, and when the moment was ripe for flight, he was unable to move, and several who were involved in his scheme were instantly shot upon being detected. He is very clever and full of quickness and wit, and his reply to Voltaire was not bad. He went to see him at Ferney. Voltaire, who did not know his profligacy, and could not let the opportunity go by of saying something distressing to an ecclesiastic, stood upon his _perron_, and, pointing to a theatre on one side, and to a temple dedicated to God on ye other side, said: ‘Où joue t’on la plus grande farce?’ ‘C’est selon les auteurs,’ replied ye Bishop. He called old, shrivelled Sr. Wm. Hamilton a piece of walking _verd-antique_.

_31st Jan., ’99._--At half-past seven on Friday morning, ye 18th January, I was safely delivered of a nice little boy, who is going on perfectly well. Mr. Croft attended me. He had passed 4 nights and days in the house previous to the crash. Mrs. W. stayed, too, but was obliged to go to her eldest child, who was ill. I was sufficiently recovered by Sunday to receive company, and have every day since seen all who have called.

Ld. H. is this day gone down to attend the H. of Lds. If Ld. Grenville brings on the discussion of ye Union, he will speak.[240] Probably the last proceedings in ye Irish Parlt. will deter Pitt from pressing the measure here, altho’ it is one he pledged himself to most irrevocably, and one he is strongly attached to from motives of ambition and vanity. I shall say but little on ye subject, as it has so frequently worn out my patience lately.

The conquest of lovely Naples is added to the proud list of Republican triumphs. The Court have fled to Sicily on board of Nelson’s fleet. The happy States of Tuscany will soon fall, and all Italy pass under the despotic thraldom of the Directory.

[Sidenote: SHERIDAN AND TIERNEY]

Sheridan was expected to have made a capital speech in the H. of Commons on the Union last week, but it was reckoned very inferior to his usual style of excellence. He offended the seceders by announcing that the standard of Opposition would soon be unfurled.[241] He introduced it at the conclusion of an attack upon Ld. L., who had, he said, ‘cut a clumsy caper over the grave of party.’ (In his speech at the beginning of the session, he said, ‘Thank God, party is dead and buried.’) He pursued a strain of irony, apparently levelled at Ld. L., but, in fact, intended for Tierney, who had, in a late speech, declared that he considered himself as an individual belonging to no set of men. Sheridan said, he did not wonder party was denied, for it required strong intellect to command, and great virtues to attach for a man to become the leader of party, and great humility and sense to fall as a subaltern into the ranks of party. Sheridan hates Tierney. That hatred was roused at T.’s making a most excellent speech on ye Income Bill. It was so good that everybody praised it. S. was at Brooks’s, and was so incensed at the applause that he went to Tierney’s house, whom he found just getting into bed, insisted upon seeing him, and then said he was quite shocked to hear that a part of his speech had given great offence, that part where he hinted at the necessity of squeezing the corporations, who were ‘wallowing in wealth.’ This was said to worry Tierney, who is weakly alive to all unpopularity. T. told me this himself.

Ld. Lansdown is just returned from Bath. He was full of what Miss Fox calls _effusion_ to Ld. H., who had said that he regretted the probability of their voting against each other upon the subject of the Union. ‘Never mind,’ said Ld. L., ‘vote, speak against me, abuse me. Do what you will. I should say, this is what I can’t hear, I can’t see; I won’t see it. You are like my sons who can’t offend me, for I won’t quarrel with them.’ In short, he was all tenderness and warmth.

Sheridan offended the Prince extremely in his last speech. I do not know precisely what he said, but it was a quotation from Secretary Cooke’s pamphlet. He certainly intended it as complimentary, but it was not probably faithfully reported by P. Ernest to ye Prince, and before S. could tell his own story, the Prince, with his usual intemperance and violence, abused him, calling him ‘rogue, liar,’ etc. This _mal-entendu_ will vex S. beyond measure, for he has ever since the Regency courted the P., and anticipated in imagination much influence in a future reign; besides that he has wished to be considered as being as much the organ of the P. in the H. of Commons as Ld. Moira is in the House of Lords. I have malignity enough in my disposition not to feel much sympathy for his afflictions. He has afflicted so much real distress upon others, and one being dear to me, that I have not a spark of compassion to bestow. His defenders (and their number is but slender) say that all his bad conduct has proceeded from his struggling against the meanness of his origin and the littleness of his means. He attempted to efface the first by distinguishing himself, not only in the career of wit and politics, but also in that of gallantry and fashion; for such was his lust of praise that:--

* * * * *

Women and fools must like him or he dies;
The wond’ring Senates hung on all he spoke,
The Club must hail him Master of the Joke.

* * * * *

Enough if all around him but admire.

I shall note down a few anecdotes about him by-and-bye.

[Sidenote: ‘PRODIGY’ POLLEN]

Ld. H. met at Sheridan’s, one day lately, Mr. Pollen, the man who dreaded invasion for the sake of the chastity of the ladies: he had never seen him before. Ld. H. was telling a story to prove the openness of the Irish character, and how little suspicious they were of trusting their lives to a person of tolerable character. The story was told him by Ld. Wycombe as having happened to an acquaintance of his--a Mr. Henry. A man arrested him in the streets, and, without much prefatory discourse asked him if he would be of the _Executive_, adding, he was a United Irishman, and was delegated by those sitting in Dublin to ask him. Upon which Mr. Pollen immediately said: ‘The same thing precisely occurred to me at Perth. A United Scotsman proposed the same question, altho’ I was in my regimentals, and he knew I was quartered with my regiment.’ The coincidence was remarkable, but tho’ Scotsmen are more wary than Irishmen, yet it was possible there might be an indiscreet Scot. They then talked of poor Ld. Lauderdale, who is dreadfully ill. His complaint is a horrid one, a local dropsy, which he will not submit to have properly treated, upon which Mr. P. said, ‘There are two modes of treating the disease: there is the palliative and the radical. I first tried the palliative, but it was troublesome, and ever since I used the radical I have felt no inconvenience.’ Ld. H. said he began to stare at two such extraordinary things having been mentioned, and that both should have happened to him. He is not above 25 or 26, and that disorder is generally in old, worn-out constitutions, and, if one may judge from Gibbon’s averseness to mention the complaint, is not one that men are apt to boast of having.... Ld. H. was all astonishment at these stories, but upon inquiry he found Mr. Pollen’s nickname was ‘Prodigy’ Pollen.

_Wednesday, 13th. Feb._--On Sunday, ye 10th, Mr. Hare[242] came to pass a few days. On Wednesday Bor. and Amherst dined. On last Sunday Hare returned. Grey and Tierney dined. Miss Fox stayed from Saturday to Monday.

Hare was full of wit and pleasantry. I was expressing surprise that a man so universally extolled for his conversation and talents should not, to my taste, be pleasant, for the fact is, I never received the smallest entertainment from Sheridan’s convivial abilities. Hare said what is true enough, that before women he is always playing a game. His forte is at a club over wine, and in debate. Among many things he told us of a reply of S., in debate, to Dundas, who had asserted a falsehood for a fact, and supported it by some well-known trite joke. S. complimented the honble. gentleman upon his abilities, especially upon possessing to a remarkable degree a _retentive memory_ and _fertile imagination_, but that those faculties unfortunately were perverted, as his memory was directed to works of imagination, and his imagination to facts. S. himself, however, is less tenacious about facts than he ought to be. There is a story of his offering some stories to Mr. Fox, to assist him in argument, but the latter, who is very strict as to what he asserts, asked if they were well authenticated, and, finding they depended upon report, declined using them; upon which S. said, ‘He is so d----d _surly about facts_.’

S. was to have dined here on Sunday, but did not; probably to avoid meeting Tierney and Grey, as he hates the former, and is displeased at not being supported by the latter. His motion very nearly failed, as nobody seconded it for full 10 minutes, and then an obscure man jumped up and did it. All their squabbles are diverting, for as to any good they can do, it is a farce to suppose any can be done. This Union, they say, is to be carried at all risks. Ld. H. is gone this morning to arrange with Ld. Fitzwilliam, but the subject is so tiresome, and I have heard so much of it, that I cannot enter into the merits or demerits of the case.

[Sidenote: LEWIS’ VERSES]

The ‘Monk’ Lewis consulted me whether he should dedicate his translation of the 13th Satire of Juvenal to Mr. Fox. I said he would take it as a compliment. It was published yesterday, but is not so good as most of his other verses; 28 of the best lines are by Wm. Lamb,[243] a rising genius, who is to dine here for the first time to-day. Those imitations of Juvenal[244] by Ld. H. crept into the newspapers. I was extremely frightened and got Mr. Hare, Tierney, etc., to exert themselves to get the remainder suppressed, as I really feared Ld. Minto’s being wrong-headed.

_24th Feb._--I have contented myself with skimming carelessly enough over Lewis’ paraphrase. The undertaking seems above his means, and was done, as I understand, at the request of his father, who was anxious that he should give a classical turn to his literary reputation, as he laments his ballad and green-room tastes. Several of the lines are wofully bad:--

From morn’s first languish to the death of day,--

but enough of what I have really found too dull to read through.

I thought young Lamb pleasant, though supercilious, as he shut himself up in his own thoughts as soon as he saw Ld. G., Morpeth, Boringdon. He affects to hold them cheap for being Anti-Jacobins, an affectation he has caught from ye D. of Bedford. On the following Sunday we had many of the same party, with ye addition of the Bessboroughs, Canning, and Frere. Wycombe, being present, annoyed Canning, and put him out of his natural bias of ease and pleasantry. In the course of this week we had several numerous parties of the Bessboroughs, Fish Crawfurd,[245] etc., etc., Hare, Fitzpatrick.

_Sunday, 3rd March._--Jekyll, Hare, Tierney, and Fitzpatrick are now in the house. They dined here. The latter has lost such a great portion of his ill-gotten pelf in the same way as he acquired it, viz., at the gaming-table. There is no one poison in the human breast that operates so powerfully to the exclusion of every good feeling, as that of gambling. It produces misanthropy, meanness, and avarice, and I do not know a real amateur and practitioner of the vice in favour of whom an exception can be made. Hare has genuine, quick feelings, and his sensibility has not been totally blunted; but I can hardly admit as an apology for his inveterate pursuit of fortune at the Hazard table his necessities. But I am perhaps illiberally intolerant; the example in Ld. H.’s family, and the scandalous expedients a certain Duchess has, to my knowledge, been able to bring herself to resort to, have inspired me with horror and contempt for the class.

The news arrived to-day of Mr. Grenville’s safety.[246] The frigate is lost, and 15 persons, but he and his suite got over the ice. As no mails are come (14 now are due), the particulars are not known. It will be highly gratifying when he hears how universal and sincere the sorrow has been.

[Sidenote: LORD LAUDERDALE]

_5th March,’99._--Mr. Fox is come here to-day to dine at the Whig Club; he returns to sleep. Ld. Lauderdale is so much better that he walks about. He told the D. of Bedford that, being kept awake one night from pain, he diverted himself by composing a speech and a _reply_ for him upon the Union. ‘I can understand,’ said the Duke, ‘that you may write a man’s speech for him, but how you can make a reply which must notice points in the debate I cannot guess.’ ‘Why, the speech I intend you shall make is calculated to put old Grenville into a rage; he will get up and abuse you, and lug in France, French principles, localities, and all the old story. Then you must answer him, and begin by an apology to the House for the long speech you have been the occasion of their hearing, as you know it must be very disagreeable to the House; but that, for yourself, it is of no consequence, as you are used to _noise_, for in your agricultural pursuits you are accustomed to the _bellowing of beasts_.’ This is what Ld. L. calls excellent raillery, and I only note it down as a specimen of his talents in that line; no one so excellent as he is at a coarse joke, but polished wit he not only cannot furnish, but is incapable of relishing. Sheridan said, ‘Don’t tell Lauderdale, for a _joke_ in his mouth is no _laughing matter_.’

_10th._--Mr. Fox dined at the Whig Club; in the speech he made he did not supply materials for fresh attacks. We sat up very late with him; his conversation is always instructive and entertaining. He shuns politics as much as I could wish. Criticism, literature, and observations upon character are ye chief topics. It is astonishing what a storehouse of knowledge his mind is of every sort, from a fairy tale up to a system of philosophy. A novel was mentioned, upon which he launched forth upon a discussion on the different merits of the novelists, in which he displayed as great a range of reading as a miss who reads from a circulating library could do. He knows, in short, every production of the sort that has appeared. He professed liking fairy tales, romances, novels, etc. The only sort he admitted were dull are the old French ones of Mlle. Scudéri--_Le Grand Cyrus_, etc.--tho’ he made a few exceptions, especially for ye _Princesse de Cleves_,[247] as well he might, for that is very pretty. He set off early the next morning. Mrs. Armstead disapproves of his absence being extended beyond the time she fixes.

On the 6th we dined at Lansdown House. Ld. L. received me with cordiality. _I_ hope his terrors of my _machinations_ are dissipated. Ld. Wycombe is gone to Ireland. Thursday.--Dined with Mrs. Wyndham. Friday.--Lds. Bor. and Digby, Mr. Adderley and General Fitzpatrick dined. Saturday.--Mrs. W.

Ld. and Ly. Macartney called this morn. It is the first time I have seen him since his return from the Cape. He looks well, tho’ he says he is _confiscated_. The climate of the Cape, he says, is unfavourable to a gouty habit. He told me the people at the Cape look upon Vaillant[248] as a vagrant, lying sort of a gentleman, who undertook to describe places he never saw, and boast of friends he never had: his secretary is going to publish his travels, and has annexed an accurate map he made himself to the work.

[Sidenote: LORD MACARTNEY]

Ld. M. is remarkable for a retentive memory. He remembers the minutest circumstance, tho’ I half-suspect he plays tricks, and frequently makes his recollection dwell upon strange objects, that as you find he remembers them, you may give him credit for knowing the commonest. When he went Minister to Russia, Mr. Grenville, in giving him instructions upon commercial arrangements, advised him to take the Navigation Act, as it might be of service to him. ‘To avoid encumbering myself, as I knew its use, _I have learnt it by heart_,’ and true it was he could say every tittle. Louis XVIII. is remarkable for a strong memory; when Ld. M. went to Verona, somebody said, ‘Ah! quels assauts de mémoire il y aura entre eux.’

_14th March._--Sunday. Dumont[249] came and slept. He has all the good, and none of the bad qualities of a _Génevois_. A sarcastic person might ask, ‘What are the good qualities of a _Génevois_?’ To be candid, I protest I know of none but their enthusiastic admiration of Rousseau, and when I made that _éloge_ of Dumont by giving them to him, I meant in truth to say he was a Frenchman; for all the _agréments_ I bestow on him are the due of an amiable, enlightened, polished _homme de lettres_ of Paris.

Tuesday, we dined with Mrs. W. and went to the play: I found Lewis in my box. Mrs. W. in her quaint manner asked him, ‘How he could have such a horrid imagination with such a comical face?’ Thursday, Dr. Ash and Mr. Moore dined here. To-day, the weather has been horrible, and we have not seen a soul, but have stayed snugly alone at home. I read two acts of Buonarotti’s _Tancia_. It is very difficult, and to a foreigner has no merit but simplicity and poetry. Its wit and truth are lost where the language and allusions are unknown, and the names ideal; for the _vera lingua Fiorentina_, as spoken by the peasants, is a distinct idiom from the common Italian, and the proverbs are local, nor is it possible for a foreigner resident in the country to obtain so exact a notion of the rustic manners of the _contadini_, as to be able to judge of the justness of the picture. I have been reading several of Hurd’s[250] _Dialogues_; his style is frigid, and, though correct, insipid. It was of him and Warburton that Dr. Parr said, ‘_He_ has blundered into sublimity; _you_ have refined into littleness.’

_22nd March._--On Friday, 15th, we had an uncommonly pleasant party--Mrs. W., Lds. Mor., Bor., Thanet, General Fitz., Lord Robert, Mr. Hare, and (by chance) little Lewis.

_25th March,’99._--On Sunday, 17th, Ld. H. dined with Mr. Francis. Mr. Marsh and Hamilton[251] dined here with me. At Francis’s they drank a good deal of wine. The joke was to exhaust his cellar. It succeeded, much to the mirth of Ld. Thanet, who is the promoter of all fun and mischief. On Monday Ld. Bor., Misses Fox and Vernon came to sleep, and some others.

[Sidenote: DEBATE ON THE UNION]