Chapter III: Part 3

In 1762, Henry Fox, Secretary of State (afterwards Lord Holland), inhabited, and shortly after purchased this house.[86] During his life it was frequently the resort of the great politicians. Sir Robert Walpole, unless he died before, was certainly a frequent visitor, at least he was a friend; Lds. Bute and Chatham, etc. Lady Sarah Lennox resided with her sister Ly. H.[87] at the period of the present King’s love, a love that might have elevated her to the throne, but for her levity and total disregard for appearances. Both Ld. and Ly. Holland died here. During his long illness he one day forbade admittance to all his friends who might call, with the exception only of George Selwyn, ‘For if I am alive I shall be very happy to see him, and if I am dead he will be very glad to see me,’ alluding to George Selwyn’s extraordinary passion for beholding death in any shape. He rarely missed the sight of an execution. He was supposed to have incensed George II. extremely by having indulged this curiosity about Queen Caroline, to obtain a sight of whose corpse he concealed himself under the bed, and during the absence at night of the attendants examined the body. George II. had such an aversion to him that he always called him ‘_That rascal George_.’ Selwyn once overheard him and exclaimed, ‘What can that mean? Rascal! Oh! I forgot that it was a hereditary title of the Georges.’ The King (George III.) the year after he had been at G. Selwyn’s house at Matson (famous in history for the escape of Charles I.) went mad. G. Selwyn upon this observed, ‘that it was odd enough that the only two Kings that had visited Matson had _both lost their heads_.’

[Sidenote: LORD ABERCORN’S MARRIAGE]

This singular marriage of Lady Ann’s is going on rapidly, nay, the nuptials are to take place in the course of this week; but till the holy knot is tied, I confess such mystery hangs upon the affair that I shall continue withholding my full belief. He consults Ly. B. about the equipages, fêtes that are to be given upon the occasion, etc., and yet insists upon her keeping her promise of secrecy, and even goes so far as to beg she will contradict the report if she hears it. He was always supposed to be a little cracked, and his pride is beyond belief. When travelling in Italy during the life of his uncle and he was only Mr. Hamilton, to distinguish himself he left upon his cards, ‘D’Hamilton, Comte Héréditaire d’Abercorn.’ His language is so _outré_ from the manners of common life that it would appear caricatured and _chargé’d_ even upon the stage. Should the union really take place, the first step will be a rupture between Ly. Ann, his daughters, and Miss Copley their aunt, as Ly. A. is both violent and peevish, and little disposed to submit to the _gêne_ of _bienséance_ with regard to them.

I hear from my dear Webby frequently. The others I know are well, but poor Harriet is placed in a cheap school, and will be educated among people and with ideas that certainly are not adapted to her way of life I hope and trust in future.

_17th April, 1800._--Abbé de Lille to-day shone. He aimed not at proving himself a political prophet: he contented himself with being a pleasant companion and a poet unique. In conversation he was very amusing; he told several stories about Voltaire, with whom he had been intimate in the early part of his life. The Collège de Montaigne was remarkable for its filthiness; the _régent_ of it, when the _écoliers_ were to act a play, was puzzled at their choice. It was _Mérope_. The female name offended him, and he altered it to _Méropus_: upon which Voltaire said it was in compliment of the place to call it _Mère au puce_, it being the _foyer_ of dirt. Necker’s conduct in France, he said, was exactly like that of a _Curé_, who at a jovial dinner heard the bell ringing to Vespers, upon which he immediately chanted the Psalm of _Deus in adjutorium meum intende_, etc.; the people made the response _Gloria Patri et Filio et Spiritui sancto_; a man next to the _Curé_ gave him a _soufflet_, saying if he had not begun the people would not have sung. The application to Necker was that he first sounded the alarm and roused the people of France. At the beginning of the Revolution, when things that now seem insignificant were looked upon as of great importance, two men were overheard talking of the calamities of the country in the Thuileries. One said, ‘Ah! bon Dieu, c’est la fin du monde.’ ‘Bah! bah!’ replied the other, ‘Comment donc, Monsr., il y a des exemples?’

He recited his translation of the fourth book of the _Aeneid_; the tender passages prove his ignorance of the sentiment he expresses. The famous tirade is admirably rendered.

[Sidenote: LORD ABERCORN’S MARRIAGE]

Lord Abercorn’s singular union has at length taken place contrary to every plausible speculation. A few days before it was declared he confided to a friend his intended marriage, without naming the lady. ‘The world will be surprised, do not contradict the report, nor deny it.’ As soon as the event was public the Queen sent Ly. Ely to Miss Copley[88] to desire her to come to Buckingham House. ‘I hear that in consequence of this business, that you intend quitting Ld. A.’s house; remember, Miss Copley, that the worse the affair is, the stronger is the necessity of continuing with your nieces, and remember you have my advice and sanction.’ This maternal, majestic speech had its effect. Sir Lionel Copley told me both of these anecdotes.

The day of the marriage Ly. A. was sitting with Ly. Bess. talking of the event that was fixed for 8 o’clock in the ensuing eve., when their conversation was interrupted by the entrance of the porter to inform them, ‘That Lord Abercorn had just called and left word that Ly. Ann must make haste, as she was to be married at 4.’ This intelligence _so_ communicated surprised them, but compliance and punctuality are indispensable qualities where Ld. A. is concerned, therefore they obeyed. As soon as the ceremony was over, which was performed at Lord Sudley’s,[89] Ld. A. made the Marchioness a low bow, handed his eldest daughter out to his carriage, and went and dined with his own family, whilst the Marchioness went and dined in Cavendish Square. He came with a cavalcade of servants and _flambeaux_ to bear off his prize to the Priory.

He is haughty and capricious, with enough of vanity to make him do a generous action, and with a dash of madness to make him do a lively one. Ly. Bess. went down for a few days; she described an evening between the new married pair, which was an exact reproduction of a scene in _The Taming of the Shrew_. To cure a headache he made her play blindman’s buff, and the more she complained the more violent he made the sport. A person remarked the livery, which is the same as the younger branches of the Royal Family, and said, ‘I suppose your family took it from them.’ ‘My family took it from them? No, it was the livery of the Hamiltons before the House of Brunswick had a servant to put it on.’ When he told the Dowager Lady Warwick that Sir Wm. Hamilton (her brother) was to marry Mrs. Hart, and that _he_ should give her away, she said it was a disgrace to the family, but if done by any of them the deed was fitted to the one who had the blot in his escutcheon and a crack in his skull.

The Duke of Somerset is to marry Ly. Charlotte Hamilton;[90] his mother withholds her consent. She is much older than the Duke. Her superior coquetry has obtained the palm, for his love began with her younger sister, Lady Susan.

A circumstance, half ridiculous, half distressing, embarrassed me last Saturday at Lansdown House. I met an old lover whom I had not set eyes on for 14 years; the last time I beheld him was when he solicited an interview to propose marriage. His mode of making the overture was singular at least. He began by approaching his chair close to mine, and followed this close-quartering with an endearing embrace round my waist; he then complimented me upon my love of literature, and said, ‘I love books as much as you do, and we may fairly hope to have a very literary little family.’ Tho’ barely fifteen years old, the ridicule of the man’s proceeding struck me so much that I could scarcely contain my laughter, and my mother did for me that which my own timidity prevented, for he immediately received his final _congé_. He used to write verses upon me, and sent me a copy, with a dog, the turn of which was that as I was afraid of thieves this cur would protect me until I ‘a bolder guardian took,’ meaning his precious self.

[Sidenote: A FORMER SUITOR]

_22nd April, 1800._--Ld. Thurlow yesterday in the House of Lords, with every expression of contempt, animadverting upon the folly of the Bills now brought before Parliament, the one for protecting bull baiting, the marriage of a divorced woman with the culprit, etc., addressed himself sarcastically to Lord Auckland, and said, ‘And pray, my Lord, why do you not bring in a Bill against ingratitude,’ alluding to Ld. A.’s desertion of Ld. North.[91] The reproof was coarse and uncalled for. The Union was debated last night in both Houses. Mr. Grey, in spite of secession, attended and made a very able speech.

The above story of Ld. Thurlow’s sarcasm is murdered. The sting lies in the absurdity of attempting to correct moral vices by law, which makes the sneer wittier.

Ly. Ann’s change from poverty and dependence to stately grandeur reminds me of the pretty _Epître des Vous et des Tu_, in which Voltaire sketches the delights of his youthful mistress, contrasted with the dull pomp she was surrounded by after a splendid alliance:--

Philis, qu’est devenu ce temps
Où dans un fiacre promenée
Sans laquais, sans ajustements,
De tes grâces seules ornée, etc.

I invited Mr. Lattin to dine here to-day, and as an inducement mentioned that it was to meet Dr. Parr. He wrote a gallant reply, accompanied by the following verses, which he says are the first he ever wrote in French:--

L’Histoire nous apprend, que pour être écoutée
La Sagesse eut recours
Aux grâces, aux amours,
Et même de la Fable, à la voix empruntée.
Mais pour nous persuader, c’est la première fois
Que la beauté s’adresse
A la froide sagesse,
Où Vénus de Minerve ait employé la voix.

_27th April._--On Wednesday, ye 23rd, Dr. Parr dined and slept here. He was pleasant enough and not too full of grammatical niceties. I overheard him and Knight condemn various corrupt pronunciations and agree in saying, ‘You and I can never pass them: we can never call Xenophon otherwise than Xeno_pho_.’

[Sidenote: THE CZAR PAUL]

The French army under Kléber, by a convention between it, Sir Sidney, and the Turks, is to quit Egypt; the Turks are to furnish transports. The Governt. here are incensed against Sir Sidney; they complain of the terms, and wish the French had been necessitated to remain and perish from the plague, etc.[92] The plausible objection is, that the Austrians have just come to be dissatisfied at the augmentation of 17,000 efficient, hardy troops to their enemy just at the beginning of the campaign. The magnanimous Emperor of all the Russias is in a passion; he has written to our Court to insist upon the recall of Sir C. Whitworth,[93] who has committed the unpardonable offence of visiting Count Cobenzel, the Austrian Minister; and his Imperial Majesty has besides withdrawn his Russians in our pay. The high pay may however tempt him to relent.[94] About a month ago he sent to Mr. Pitt, Ld. Grenville, and Mr. Huskisson, 3 crosses of the Order of Malta, of which order he has constituted himself the head, altho’ one of the fundamental rules requires that every knight should be a Catholic and a bachelor. He is of the Greek Church, and husband to a prolific Empress. The great source of his wrath is about the island of Malta, which he wants to possess, and which we will not agree to his having.

Mr. Grey made his annual motion for reform last Friday.[95] He made it so moderate by softening down the rough edges that Wilberforce and Dr. Laurence voted with him. Sheridan, Sir F. Burdett, Jones,[96] etc., were deterred from attending, as he was what they called _too_ moderate. After the debate he came and supped, and slept here. He lamented his own precipitation and bad judgment in urging the measure of secession, and very distinctly declared that whatever blame might attach to it, _he_ was responsible for, as it was pressed upon Mr. Fox against his opinion and inclination. I conveyed to him very cautiously, that his attendance, unless he had an explicit and a sort of public declaration from Mr. Fox that he wished himself to be considered as null, would not be looked upon as fair; he assured me that Fox had oftentimes urged him to attend.[97] I implied that such an assurance was of course all his _conscience_ could require, yet that public opinion demanded more publicity to be given to the wish of Mr. F. than the report of a private conversation; to which he said he never could ask Mr. Fox to declare himself for ever withdrawn from public affairs.

I dined on Saturday, 26th, at L. H. In the morning Ld. Wycombe called upon me; we were standing in the porch just as Ld. Lansdown drove into the iron gate, upon which this dutiful son flew off in a tangent, and exhibited a _scene_ before my servants and his father’s.

The following verses are written by Lewis, a pretty address from Friendship to Youth:--

Turn, Wanderer, turn, and rest with me,
Let not yon glittering fane allure you:
My temple shall your shelter be,
My sacred fire from cold secure you.

Nor scorn it, though your dazzled sight
No burst of lustrous flame surprises
As with mild warmth and lambent light
It gently from the altar rises.

More vivid fires gild yonder shrine,
More heat and radiance round them casting,
But trust me, Youth, though bright they shine,
Their rage is fierce, their power is blasting.

Ah! pilgrim, shun the fatal blaze,
Thy forward steps forbear to number;
The blaze which on _my_ altar plays
Gives genial warmth and gentle slumber.

Here Reason as the priestess stands,
Here Tranquil Pleasure often lingers;
At Friendship’s fire then warm thy hands,
At Love’s thou’lt surely burn thy fingers!
‘Friendship,’

[Sidenote: A PARODY]

I showed them to Tierney, who parodied them almost offhand as an address from a Warming-Pan to Old Age:--

Turn, dotard, turn, and rest with me,
Let not yon glittering fane allure you:
My presence shall your comfort be,
My sacred fire from cold secure you.

Nor scorn it, though your dazzled sight
No burst of lustrous splendour meets,
As with mild warmth each chilly night
It gently glides between the sheets.

More vivid fires gild yonder shrine,
Their blaze, ’tis true, more fiercely rages,
But, know, they give, unlike to mine,
More smoke than heat at certain ages.

Ah! shun then their delusive blaze,
Thy forward steps forbear to number,
The flame which on _my_ altar plays
Gives genial warmth and gentle slumber.

Turn, turn, from love and such repose,
Nurse what of life within thee lingers,
With me at least thou’lt warm thy toes,
With Love thou’lt only burn thy fingers.
‘Warmingpan.’

_5th May._--Last week Ld. H. made a motion in the H. of Lords in favour of the Catholics, to obtain what they call their emancipation.[98] Lord Lansdown, like a sly old politician, was glad of an opportunity of saying something on behalf of the Catholics, mingled with a praise of the Union, so that should the Union fail, he may say, ‘I foresaw that ye measure, without granting the Catholics their demands, would prove a mischievous one’; and if it should succeed he may say, ‘I supported Ministers on it.’ In his speech he made several heartfelt compliments to Ld. H. He said that whenever he differed in opinion from him he doubted the rectitude of his own judgment; for of his excellent abilities, he added, the House were competent to judge, but of the goodness of his heart those only who had the happiness of knowing him in private could estimate the value. He went on in this strain for near ten minutes. The whole debate was flat, none were in spirits; Ld. H. was unwell, and more than usually chilled by the deadness of his audience. Tierney declares that accustomed as he is to act singly in the H. of Commons, yet he could not bear up in the H. of Lords; there is a palsied indifference in the hearers that checks all spirit.

[Sidenote: LORD LANSDOWN]

It was essential to Ld. Lansdown to preserve the attachment of ---- during his Administration. But ---- confided to Ld. L. that his health was injured by an irregularity of life. One should have thought from the austerity of Ld. L.’s manners and private character that he was a singular person to select for such a confidence, but so it was. ‘Indeed, I am not surprised, the calamitous state of the country, the imbecility of Ministers, the augmentation of the debt, and the increased influence of the Crown is such that I own to you very frankly for dissipation I plunge myself into the lowest debauchery.’ He then, after this prelude, administered friendly relief. This is very characteristic of him; the sort of jumble of ideas, and the overstrained civility of adapting his own conduct to that of the person he wishes to please, however repugnant it might be to him in reality.

‘Comment, mon ami,’ cried a wife to her drunken husband. ‘Vous vous perdez, vous laissez toujours votre esprit au cabaret.’ ‘Ne craignez rien, ma chère, j’irais la chercher dimanche.’

People are very much occupied with this Divorce Bill.[99] Ld. H. has felt a shyness in attending the progress of it in the H. of Lords. A Bishop, full of the subject, last week began talking to him; he expressed his approbation of its becoming a criminal proceeding, and added, ‘And do you not think, my Lord, that it would diminish the frequency of the vice, if parties were condemned to imprisonment for five years?’ Ld. H. was, of course, puzzled how to answer. The Bishop was B. of Chichester.

_8th May._--D. of Bedford, who is just returned to town, dined here; Ld. H. was detained at the H. of Lds. Fortunately I had Francis, and the day went off pleasantly. We talked of Mr. Fox’s history, to which he has written the introduction. It was lamented that instead of taking the period of which he could say so much from personal knowledge, he should go to one distant and well known. The Duke said his reason was extreme indignation against Hume, whom he had been reading last autumn; who very artfully pleads the cause of the House of Stuart, and in a way to interest his reader about the private virtues of Charles I., ‘Who, by-the-bye,’ added he, ‘is a most amiable man when viewed in his domestic capacity.’ Upon this Francis, with his usual impetuous vivacity, burst forth against him, denying him every qualification that constitutes a gentleman or a man of feeling. He quoted two stories out of Carte’s _Life of ye D. of Ormond_, a writer who is allowed to have a strong bias to the Stuarts. One was, that in the Palace at Whitehall there were etiquettes, ‘similar to those established by that _fop Louis XIV._,’ about certain apartments, which could only be entered by men of distinguished quality. Hampden, by accident, and through ignorance of these courtly rules, got into one. Suddenly a noise announced the entrance of the King; to conceal himself he sculked behind a screen. His friends with whom he was conversing were in a bustle; the King upon entering perceived their disorder, and insisted upon knowing the cause. He explored behind the screen, and upon finding Hampden, he shook his cane over his head, and threatened to beat him and worse, if he ever broke through bounds again. The other was, his receiving a petition on horseback, which was presented to him by Sir T. Fairfax and a deputation kneeling; he made his horse curvet, kicked the knight, and endangered his life. Clarendon’s style, he said, was _grave and slow_. He told Dr. Parr here at dinner the other day that Swift’s style was _clear and shallow, perfectly pellucid_. The fact is he admires no style but his own, and that is worthy of admiration, as it is much the best now.

[Sidenote: NEW BILLS]

D. of B. means to go down about this new Divorce Bill; he is very eager against it. He says it will reverse the present system, for if a circumstance of the sort occurs to a husband who is high-spirited, he generally fights the lover, whereas the lover will now threaten the husband by saying, ‘If you make an _éclat_ and get me whipped at the cart’s tail, by G----, I will kill you.’

A Bill is to be brought forward in the H. of Commons by Sir H. Mildmay to check the increase of Catholicism, by preventing the nuns at Winchester from giving the veil. An attempt to make a proselyte will become penal. Mr. Fox, when he heard of these Bills, the one against celibacy and the other, said, ‘Aye, the poor women, they will not let them do one thing or the other.’

_11th May._--Parr entertained us uncommonly; he was in full force. We gratified him highly by going into the room into which he retreated to smoke. His vanity is such that the slightest attention elates him, and more particularly, when it comes from a person whom he would denominate a woman of quality. Mr. Knight’s love of pedantry got him too frequently upon verbal criticism, and when they did fall upon a doubtful Greek word, they pulled at it like hungry curs. When they returned to the library he talked upon literature. His praise of Middleton’s style was that a man of strong feelings and vigorous conceptions ought to study it to abate the ardour and rigidity of style, and he recommended it to Bobus. He asserted that Middleton was an unbeliever in Christianity, and read several passages, which put it out of all doubt, from his _Defence of the Free Enquiry_. Of Warburton he expressed the utmost admiration; his opponents, he said, who had attacked him, were snarling hounds; ‘mine was the froth of a mastiff.’ He said of Burke’s first book upon the French Revolution that it was ‘the effervescence of rage’; the second was ‘the bitter sediment of malignity.’

On Tuesday I went to Money Hill; Miss Fox, Drew, and Charles went with us. I returned on Friday. The two mornings I passed there we drove about in the sociable to see the country.

We drove through Cassiobury, Lord Essex’s; to The Grove, Ld. Clarendon’s, and so on to Russell Farm, the Ladies’ Capel. Pretty ground and fertile country. Ld. H. fished, and caught a few trout. Beauclerk did not articulate ten words; he seems happy, but it is the bliss of torpor. She resides reluctantly in the dignified solitude of a _guinguette_ in the skirts of a petty town. From Beauclerk’s practice one should think his precept was that conversation spoilt society; he rarely incurs that _risque_. It is to be regretted, as he has a most acute perception, and an uncommon degree of subtilty in his argument. No person is clearer on the _obscure_ subject of abstract metaphysics; his definitions are ingenious and brilliant. Finance is also a branch of political economy he is profound in, and had he entered Parliament he would have distinguished himself. At present he is lost; shyness, indolence, and a sort of content deprive society of his exertions and his friends of his company.

[Sidenote: THE KING SHOT AT]

The papers on Friday announced a singular accident which happened to the King at the Review on Thursday in Hyde Park; a musket ball wounded a Mr. Ongley standing near him. The question was whether it was from design or chance--the chance of an unloaded musket. When I came home, the first question I asked the porter in getting out of my carriage was whether there was anything new; he replied with eager alarm that the King had been shot at from a pistol at the play. I thought this story an exaggeration of the former one, but to my surprise found that the evening of the day on which he had escaped the bullet, he was deliberately aimed at from the pit. The ball lodged in the upper boxes, and the King escaped unhurt. His behaviour was like that of a hero of antiquity; he was in full possession of all his faculties, and was cool enough to tell the Queen, who was not in the box when the pistol was fired, that the report was from a squib. He remained on during the play with the utmost sang-froid. He told a person that he observed the fiddlers expected another shot as they covered their heads with their cremonas. The enthusiasm was boundless; additional verses were added by Sheridan to _God Save the King_.[100] The King was so delighted with Sheridan’s behaviour to the Princesses, for he prevented them going into their box by saying that a pickpocket was taken in the pit which made a riot and his presence was required, and begged their R.H. to wait in the room. He shall feel gratitude to the latest hour of his life, he says, to him for this sensibility. Sheridan, Mrs. S., and Tom are all to go to Court, both to-morrow and Thursday. Mr. Fawkener[101] dined with us on Friday; he had attended the examination of the man at the Privy Council, and he said he was certainly mad. He was dismissed the army for insanity a few months ago, and he has since worked as a silver-smith; his name is Hadfield. I was vexed at not being present. I never much liked Money Hill, but this has disgusted me, for had I been at home I should have gone in my own box, from where I should have seen the whole _representation_, and with safety.

Ld. Morpeth was to have come to Money Hill on Wednesday; he came to tell me on Saturday that his carriage was at the door at one o’clock to convey him thither, but that he was at White’s, not returned from _Tuesday evening’s_ occupation; he owned to losing two thousand pounds. He will grow a decided gambler.

My old friend and admirer, Ld. Berkeley, gave Lord Chesterfield a reproving repartee. Ld. B. has killed two or three highwaymen, and it is known that he is distressed when the occurrence is alluded to. Ld. C., meaning to annoy him, asked him ‘When he had last killed a highwayman?’ ‘It was, my Lord, as well as I can recollect, just at the time when you hung your tutor,’ alluding to the unfeeling and wicked transaction about Dr. Dodd, who, though deserving of punishment, should not have met with it from his pupil, who from youth and gratitude ought to have felt more indulgence for the errors of Dodd.[102]

The Prince of Wales has notified his Royal pleasure of dining here. He grew quite angry at not being invited; he even spoke to my mother about it. He comes on Saturday, and Prince Augustus.[103] The latter came home to England without the knowledge and against the consent of their Majesties. He arrived at the house of Lady Augusta.

[Sidenote: MRS. FITZHERBERT]

I went last night to the Opera. The Princess of Wales glanced many an inquiring look towards Mrs. Fitzherbert’s box, in which the Prince was as usual. This old amour is revived. The opinion of the world is so whimsical. Every prude, dowager, and maiden visited Mrs. F. before, and the decline of her favour scarcely reduced her visitors; but now they all cry out shame for doing that which she did notoriously five years ago. There is a sort of morality I can never comprehend.

Ld. H. took a fancy for about a week to write me some verses every night after he went to undress; I complained of his keeping me up late, he wrote immediately:--

That his labours have set you asleep, is allowed
The severest reproach to a bard you can make.
Have not I then great cause to be proud--
Your objection to mine is they keep you awake.

Ld. H. went to the Levée on Wednesday with Ld. Ossory to congratulate the King upon his escape; he went also on Thursday to the Drawing Room, and on Friday he went in a cap and gown with the Oxford Address. Mr. Marsh came to town as a delegate; he arrived on Thursday and stayed till this morning.

The Ministers have not attempted to convert this mad freak of Hadfield’s into a Jacobinical plot; they let the affair stand plainly as it is. When Erskine heard of the shot from a man in the pit, he said, ‘I thought the _Pitt-ites_ would do the King mischief at last.’ Should the poor lunatic be condemned, I think the King will feel a qualm at signing the warrant, as it is proved that the man was only insane in consequence of a severe wound in his head received while fighting in the King’s cause.[104] As a confirmation of the opinion of the man’s acting without any concert with other people, what happened to Mr. Tierney will acquit the soldier who fired in the Park. On Thursday, riding from hence through the Park, he went by some soldiers who were reviewing, and a musket ball whizzed close by his ear. He told the story to Ford, the justice, and it is clear that the cartridges have been made improperly, that those which used to be for exercising with powder only, and in a particular coloured paper, are now loaded with ball.

The Prince of Wales, Prince Augustus, and a very numerous party dined here on Saturday; it went off very pleasantly. Prince Augustus is much altered from what he was at Rome; his mind and body are thickened.

The Divorce Bill, with the abominable clause, has passed the H. of Lords, the purport of which is to prevent the woman marrying the man on whose account the divorce takes place, and in addition to pecuniary damages to the husband, the offence is to be treated as a _misdemeanour_, and the punishment of fine and imprisonment rests _solely_ with the judge.

Some persons were boasting before Mr. Fox of the excellence of the English laws, which he said certainly were excellent, but that there were objections at present. ‘How?’ replied the other person. ‘The law is equally open to the peasant and the peer.’ ‘Yes,’ said Fox, ‘so is the London tavern,’ meaning that to benefit by them one must pay dearly.

[Sidenote: MR. FOX]

The following quotation from Carlyle’s[105] translation of Arabic poetry has been very happily applied by General Fitzpatrick to Mr. Fox, who is the life and soul of the Whig party, both from the opinion entertained by them of his ability, and the esteem and friendship they bear to his person:--

With conscious pride I view the band
Of faithful friends that round me stand,
With pride exult that I alone
Can join these scattered gems in one;
For they’re a wreath of pearls, and I
The silken cord on which they lie.

’Tis mine their inmost souls to see,
Unlocked is every heart to me,
To me they cling, on me they rest,
And I’ve a place in every breast;
For they’re a wreath of pearls, and I
The silken cord on which they lie.

Lord Wycombe has never passed the threshold of our doors since the day he saw his father drive into the gates, whilst he was in the porch. Whether he imagined the _rencontre_ was the effect of design or that he chooses to have the air of appearing to think so, I cannot guess; but the effect, from some cause or other, has been his absence.

The campaign does not advance as swimmingly as was expected by the allies. Melas, when he took the Bocchetta, expected Genoa could not hold out long after the loss of that important pass, but Masséna is determined to maintain himself till the last gasp, and now he is certain of being relieved, as Bonaparte has taken the command in person of the army of Italy.[106]

_30th May._--The last date of his dispatch was ye 18th of May at Martigny, but Berthier with the advanced division has crossed the Mt. of St. Bernard, and has reached Aost. The French have a _pied-à-terre_ only at Genoa and Savona; Mantua, Milan, etc., are at present in the possession of the Austrians. Melas has taken Nice, but must quit it immediately to meet Bonaparte in Piedmont. Moreau has advanced to within a short distance of Ulm. Knay, the Austrian commander, is very obstinate, and strongly addicted to the old system of carrying on war by _posts_.

The Emperor Paul is grown quite mad. The French have made a caricature of him with _order_ in one hand, _counter-order_ in the other, and on his head _dis_order. Sir Charles Whitworth will feel happy when fairly off his territory, as he is capable of proceeding to personal violence against those with whom he is incensed. The English who inhabit Petersburg are detained as hostages for his 15,000 men in Jersey and Guernsey. Woronzow,[107] the Russian Minister, who has resided in this country many years, is suddenly recalled, as his dispatches have not been sufficiently abusive of this Government to please the Imperial taste; he is quite wretched, for besides breaking up all his old habits, he is not without apprehension of some punishment being inflicted upon him when he returns.

Parr says of the Bishop of Rochester’s sermon, which was quoted so ludicrously and well by the Duke of Clarence, that it contains ‘the precepts of the Koran, conveyed in the language of the Stews.’[108] The sermon was preached at the Magdalen, and Mr. Grey assured me without any joke that the doctrine and the language are both so extraordinary that no modest woman would read it, or own to having done so.

[Sidenote: LADY GEORGINA CAVENDISH]

The D. of Bedford has been living here a great deal; he likes Ld. H. very much, and has grown to vanquish his prejudice against me, enough almost to like me. He would be ungrateful if he did not in some degree, as he is one of the very few persons of whom I think thoroughly well: he is honourable, just, and true. Lady John Russell[109] has been here several times, and is remarkably gracious. This I owe to the Duke’s frequent visits, as she is curious to ascertain what object attracts him here, and politic enough to adapt her taste to his. The probability is that, without her caution even, he will not marry, unless indeed he should fix upon Ly. Georgiana Cavendish,[110] an alliance long arranged for him by the world. Ly. G. is a most charming girl--sensible, pleasing, full of information and totally without a particle of affectation, and if she bestows herself upon a man equal to her in situation, I have no doubt she will make a most delightful wife. Little Lewis is upon the eve of making himself a great fool about her, and, as he is not _séduisant_ in person or manner, will not gain her heart, and a bundle of sonnets in lieu of title deeds will not operate in his favour with the elders of ye family.

Ld. H. brought Sheridan and Ld. John Russell home from the H. of Commons to a late dinner here at 8. By some accident Sheridan happened to be out of the House just at the moment when a division might have been made with advantage, as Sir Wm. Scott’s[111] speech made so much impression _against_ the Bill. Sr. Wm. denied the fact asserted in the preamble to the Bill, as to ye increased frequency of divorces. He, who is the head of the Ecclesiastical Court, spoke with weight when he declared that the _crime_ was diminishing, as there had been fewer suits from ’90 to 1800 than from ’80 to ’90, or from 1770 to 1780. The whole tenor of his speech was full of tenderness and right feeling towards women.

I went on Monday evening to Mrs. Walker’s masquerade. I chatted pleasantly enough with some of my old acquaintances. Mr. Grey introduced Mrs. Grey to me,[112] as did Mr. Whitbread his wife, Grey’s sister. Mrs. Grey is pretty and gentle, without looking so; she is handsome Ponsonby’s sister. Mrs. W. has something pleasing in her appearance, but ill-health and the hereditary irritability of the Grey temper gives a certain fractious expression to her countenance: _au reste_, she is a very worthy, excellent woman.

[Sidenote: THE KING SHOT AT]

Sheridan entertained us with a circumstantial account of the whole affair at the theatre on the night of the assassination. He was in the Royal box when the pistol was fired, and saw most plainly the man take aim. Ld. Chesterfield advised His Majesty to retire to the back of the box, but the King said, ‘Not an inch, not an inch,’ and upon the Queen’s entrance he waved his hand to make her keep behind, upon the pretext of her fear of squibs. S., as soon as the poor wretch was dragged out of the orchestra, examined him. He declares his answers were collected and distinct, until Sr. Wm. Addington[113] questioned him, who was extremely drunk, and suggested to the man ye plea of insanity by his mode of examining--a plea the man craftily availed himself of.

When Sheridan went to Court, the King spoke to him upon indifferent subjects and seemed undecided whether or not he should notice the occurrence. At length he said how much he was struck with the behaviour of the audience, which gave S. an opportunity of saying they only followed His Majesty’s example. After a few such flourishes the King ended by saying he should despise himself if he had acted otherwise, for every man ought to feel his duty, and his was to stay quiet and not add to the alarm.

Mr. Abbot[114] has brought forward a Bill respecting Public Debtors, which alarmed us until it was explained, but it seems fair in principle, tho’ ultimately we may be affected to a degree. All who have balances in hand will hereafter pay interest upon such sums. The debt from this family now due to Government is 53,000_l._; the assets are near 46, the odd thousands Ld. H. must supply. The difference of the Bill taking effect will be that the interest must go to Governt., instead of making an accumulating fund, which in a few years would pay off the whole. Mr. Moore is afraid from rumour that a clause is to be moved by Mr. Baker to make the operation of the Bill retrospective. In that case, to the last shilling of Ld. H.’s property must go, as the amount would be enormous, but it seems so unjust that the alarm is, I trust, groundless.

[Sidenote: SIR G. WEBSTER’S DEATH]

Early on Wednesday morning last, ye 4th of June, we were roused by a loud rapping at the bedroom door opening into the drawing-room. My mother cried out that she had brought great news, that Sir Godfrey Webster was dead; that he expired the evening before in a fit. He had been indisposed for some days, which made the event more natural. I could not hear of his death without emotion, and was for some time considerably agitated. But, my God! how was I overcome when Drew showed me a hasty note written to him by Hodges to apprise me of the manner of his death. He shot himself, he added, in consequence of heavy losses at play. With him dies all resentment, and, great as my injuries have been, willingly would I renounce all that may accrue to me from this dreadful event to restore him again to existence, with the certainty of his paying the _natural_ debt of nature. Unhappy man! What must have been the agony of his mind, to rouse him to commit a deed of such horror. Peace to his soul, and may he find that mercy I would bestow.

His confidential servant gave the following details: that he had appeared frequently disordered in his mind in the course of the winter, and that latterly his spirits were gone, and a physician attended him for a slow fever. But the malady was deeper; it was on his mind. Twice within the last weeks he had attempted to destroy himself by laudanum, but each time his man interposed, once by wrenching the phial out of his hand, and the other by compelling him to swallow an emetic. On Saturday he despatched his relation, a Mr. Whistler, to fetch from Sussex titledeeds of some estates, merely a device to get him out of the way. On Tuesday he went out at nine o’clock, and purchased at Egg’s a brace of pistols, and after various devices and stratagems to get his servants out of the way, he but too fatally succeeded, and at half past four shot himself in his front drawing-room in Tenterden Street. Have mercy on him, Oh heaven!

Business compelled me to go to town, and my coachman drove me to the square; the shock of being almost within sight of those mangled remains was too much, of him, unhappy man, who now lies a melancholy proof of feelings too acute for existence. I would not have the self-reproach of having added one particle to the agony he endured, and am thankful that this sad catastrophe did not arise two years ago, altho’ I should have been as guiltless a cause as now; but the world and my own readiness to upbraid myself would have assigned my quitting him as the cause. Ld. Egremont,[115] with whom he had lately lived in habits of social intercourse, called at his door just after the perpetration of this dreadful act; he was excessively shocked, and went three times that night in great agitation to Ld. Ossory’s. He declared his intention of sending for the boys from school, and is now gone to Petworth with Webby. Henry is with my mother. The dear girl remains at school. Hitherto no will subsequent to that of ’86 has been found; perhaps upon a strict examination one may be discovered. The funeral went down this morning to Battle, very privately attended. Mr. Plummer was with me, and told me he was a creditor to the amount of seventeen thousand pounds.

_8th June, 1800._--The average produced by my estates is estimated at seven thousand pr. anm. We shall not touch a stiver for these 18 months, and only till then incur trouble and expense. To recover the money to fulfil the complement dictated by my grandfather’s will, I must go to the seizure of his personal property. The sound is at first repugnant, seize the property to which my son is heir, but, in fact, it is only ascertaining my right, by which I shall prevent his coming upon the Holland estates after my death.[116]

I have abstained from seeing company since this horrid business, chiefly from feeling unfit for society; and, besides that, I would not that any person should say that I exulted in an acquisition so obtained, and I think, if I did not feel strongly myself, it would be judicious to do nothing that might be reported to my children as offensive. The anxiety about their guardianship is great; it does not yet appear to whom the charge devolves. I wait quietly till the will is found, or the one of ’86 acted upon. If none is found, the verbal injunctions laid upon his family to exclude me from the happiness of seeing my children will operate but slightly. I shall openly seize every occasion of making them know how near an object it is to my heart to be loved by them, and opinion will side with me, however the Chaplins may act to annoy me. If the will of ’86 is to be in force, then nothing will be done but by the advice of the executors.

[Sidenote: ‘LEGAL RECLUSES’]

There is a curious but violent quarrel carried on between Lord Carlisle and Lord Kenyon; they abuse each other bitterly in their different _courts_, publicly and separately. On the night of the debate upon the Divorce Bill, in favour of which the lawyers are very eager, Lord Carlisle, in adverting to the various arguments, said that lawyers were from their sedentary occupations and retired habits incapable of judging the offences and punishments of the upper classes, and he applied to the corps of lawyers the term of ‘legal recluses.’ Ld. Eldon, who officiated for the Chancellor, took up the expression and was indignant at its being applied to the enlightened body who from their employment in human affairs were generally supposed to understand mankind. The Bishop of Rochester was furious, and said many cutting things to Ld. Carlisle, such as, he supposed that he would have the offence decided upon by those only who had committed, and in a marked manner showed he thought Ld. C. in that case entitled to judge. The next day, Ld. Kenyon, in the Court of King’s Bench, in summing up a charge to the jury, contrived to introduce the expression of ‘cloistered recluses’ as having been used in the H. of Lds., and again declared his knowledge of human life to be equal to his wishes, and thanked his God he had not the knowledge of it which was acquired by ‘titled adulterers at Newmarket, in Bond Street, and in the Stews.’ Ld. C. has taken notice of this reference to his speech in Parliament as unparliamentary, and means to move some resolution against the printer. He has been with Ld. Holland this morning, who has advised him to adopt another mode, and furnished him with the words; accordingly he will follow his advice.

_9th June._--Erskine came unexpectedly to dinner yesterday. He is, as I could not help telling him, by far the most extraordinary man I ever met with. An incomprehensible compound of wit, ability, absurdity, folly, vanity, and sagacity. He repeated to me some lines he had written in court upon Serjeant Lens,[117] who was examining a witness with some pertinacity:--

The Lenses that common opticians have
Are plano convex, or plano concave;
But the Lens of the law being formed to perplex,
At no time is plain, but concave and convex;
Convex his own case to enlarge and expound,
Concave his opponents t’obscure and confound.

He can pun in rhyme, but to harmony of verse he has no pretence. He wrote the following epigram upon a very parsimonious lady, a Mrs. Wharton, when at Tunbridge:--

Oft has my soul, puft up with pride,
The truth of sacred writ denied,
And to myself I still have said,
‘Sure mankind ne’er of dust was made;’
Till thou, dear Peg, revers’d my creed
And showed me we were dust indeed.

[Sidenote: BILL AGAINST PUBLIC DEBTORS]

The clause in Abbot’s Bill was not designed by him to have a retrospective operation upon those who have balances in bond due to Governt., but it was worded with such ambiguity that it threw persons so circumstanced into the power of the Auditors of the Exchequer. Ld. H. begged some confidential friends to attend to get it otherwise worded, and employed Adam as counsel to get Abbot and Baker to alter it. Tierney promised zeal and attention; Sheridan undertook it warmly. When the day came I grew afraid of Tierney’s candour, and thought he might yield to Abbot’s assurance of the harmlessness of the words; for Tierney would sacrifice the interests of anybody to obtain the occasional popularity of conciliating an opponent. I therefore enjoined Mr. Moore to rely _solely_ upon Sheridan, who tho’ _never_ punctual and not famously steady, yet would, I was persuaded, exert himself where he thought his services material. I was right. Tierney acquiesced in all Abbot alleged in behalf of the clause, and it was just going to pass into the Bill, when Sheridan arrived breathless from haste, examined the words, declared the sentence neither grammar, logic, or sense, and employed near two hours to convince the Committee that the ambiguous words should be expunged. They were so. The difference lay between ‘_shall have been declared_,’ and ‘_shall be_.’ I provoked Tierney by telling him before Whitbread, that my instructions to Moore were to shun the honest, candid man, as he would never help a friend at a pinch, too timid to essentially serve, too timid to commit himself by an opinion against any man, were the grounds not public and popular.

Interest commences from the enacting of this Bill, thus the interest cannot be reserved as usual to make a fund, and thus pay off the whole of the debt in a few years without touching us. But the principle is just, and nothing can be said against it with any decorum: and as it now stands it is certainly an expense, yet compared to what it _might_ have been I am satisfied.

_11th June._--D. of Bedford dined with us, and gave an account of the debate last night. Ld. Carlisle was to have made his motion against Kenyon, but a shuffling sort of compromise made it go off tamely; he agreed to withdraw it if Grenville desired it. A languid, half shabby business. The Duke spoke. It is comical how eagerly these seceding gentlemen embrace every opportunity of speaking; on the most unimportant subjects unconnected with politics they attend, and say their say. Last night the Divorce Bill was thrown out in the Commons: not even admitted into a Committee. The mortification of its rejection _thus_ will be double to Ld. Auckland; such marked contempt. Sheridan made an admirable speech, and did not mar the effect of it by too much wit; his matter was excellent. Ld. H. supplied him. At his request he wrote a little treatise which is full of sound reason and practical good sense. I have a copy of it.

Ld. H.’s epigrams on Horsley[118] were lying upon my table; Ld. G. Leveson, in rummaging over the papers upon it, found them and took them. Ld. H. being jokingly angry, wrote this:--

Though in private my Muse in a profligate humour
Her nakedness never withheld from your view,
Yet she liked not that all who at tea in the room are
Should have the same privilege too, and would you?

The following he said would suit ----, an impotent husband, to his wife:--

As women wish to be who love their lords
You wish to be, and ask why it delayed is.
Because I’m not (what need of many words),
As husbands ought to be that love their ladies!

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

_Henrietta, third Countess of Bessborough_]

[Sidenote: CHIRAC]

Dumont mentioned a curious anecdote of Chirac, the celebrated physician of Louis XIV.,[119] told to him by Condorcet. At 84 years old he fell into a violent illness, which was his last. He lay for two days in a state of insensibility; he suddenly jumped up and sat upright in his bed, felt the pulse of his left hand with his right, shook his head, and in a loud voice cried, ‘On m’a appelé trop tard, le malade est mourant,’ He immediately fell back, verified his own prediction, and expired. He was the man roused in the night to attend a dying Cardinal, a person of very profligate life and infamous character. To hasten the physician, the messenger said, ‘Venez donc, il souffre comme un damné.’ ‘Comment déjà?’--a bitter sarcasm in one word. He was present at a dispute upon the Resurrection of Christ; some thought it was impossible that he should have arisen after death. Chirac only said, ‘Si il était mort de ma façon,’ implying without levity, his own incredulity.