The Greville Memoirs
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Accession of William IV. —The King's Proceedings — His Popularity — Funeral of George IV. —Dislike of the Duke of Cumberland. — The King's Simplicity and Good-nature. — Reviews the Guards. — The First Court. —The King in St. James's Street. — Dissolution of Parliament. — The King dines at Apsley House.— The Duke of Gloucester. — The Quaker's Address. — The Ordinances of July. — The French Revolution.— Brougham's Election for Yorkshire. — Struggle in Paris. — Elections adverse to Government. — The Duke of Wellington on the French Revolution.— Duke of Cumberland resigns the Gold Stick and the Blues. — George IV. 's Wardrobe. — Fall of the Bourbons — Weakness of the Duke's Ministry — The King at Windsor — The Duke of Orleans accepts the Crown of France — Chamber of Peers remodelled — Prince Polignac — The New Parliament — Virginia Water — Details of George IV.'s Illness and Death — Symptoms of Opposition — Brougham — Charles X. in England — Dinner in St. George's Hall — Lambeth — Marshal Marmont — His Conversation — Campaign of 1814 — The Conflict in Paris Dinner at Lord Dudley's.
London, July 16th
.I returned here on the 6th of this month, and have waited these ten days to look about me and see and hear what is passing. The present King and his proceedings occupy all attention, and nobody thinks any more of the late King than if he had been dead fifty years, unless it be to abuse him and to rake up all his vices and misdeeds. Never was elevation like that of King William IV. His life has been hitherto passed in obscurity  and neglect, in miserable poverty, surrounded by a numerous progeny of bastards, without consideration or friends, and he was ridiculous from his grotesque ways and little meddling curiosity. Nobody ever invited him into their house, or thought it necessary to honour him with any mark of attention or respect; and so he went on for above forty years, till Canning brought him into notice by making him Lord High Admiral at the time of his grand Ministerial schism. In that post he distinguished himself by making absurd speeches, by a morbid official activity, and by a general wildness which was thought to indicate incipient insanity, till shortly after Canning's death and the Duke's accession, as is well known, the latter dismissed him. He then dropped back into obscurity, but had become by this time somewhat more of a personage than he was before. His brief administration of the navy, the death of the Duke of York, which made him heir to the throne, his increased wealth and regular habits, had procured him more consideration, though not a great deal. Such was his position when George IV. broke all at once, and after three months of expectation William finds himself King.
King George had not been dead three days before everybody discovered that he was no loss, and King William a great gain. Certainly nobody ever was less regretted than the late King, and the breath was hardly out of his body before the press burst forth in full cry against him, and raked up all his vices, follies, and misdeeds, which were numerous and glaring enough.
The new King began very well. Everybody expected he would keep the Ministers in office, but he threw himself into the arms of the Duke of Wellington with the strongest expressions of confidence and esteem. He proposed to all the Household, as well as to the members of Government, to keep their places, which they all did except Lord Conyngham and the Duke of Montrose. He soon after, however, dismissed most of the equerries, that he might fill their places with the members of his own family. Of course such a King wanted not due praise, and plenty of anecdotes were raked  up of his former generosities and kindnesses. His first speech to the Council was well enough given, but his burlesque character began even then to show itself. Nobody expected from him much real grief, and he does not seem to know how to act it consistently; he spoke of his brother with all the semblance of feeling, and in a tone of voice properly softened and subdued, but just afterwards, when they gave him the pen to sign the declaration, he said, in his usual tone, 'This is a damned bad pen you have given me.' My worthy colleague Mr. James Buller began to swear Privy Councillors in the name of 'King George IV. — William, I mean, 'to the great diversion of the Council.
A few days after my return I was sworn in, all the Ministers and some others being present. His Majesty presided very decently, and looked like a respectable old admiral. The Duke [of Wellington] told me he was delighted with him — 'If I had been able to deal with my late master as I do with my present, I should have got on much better'— that he was so reasonable and tractable, and that he had done more business with him in ten minutes than with the other in as many days.
I met George Fitzclarence, afterwards Earl of Munster,  the same day, and repeated what the Duke said, and he told me how delighted his father was with the Duke, his entire confidence in him, and that the Duke might as entirely depend upon the King; that he had told his Majesty, when he was at Paris, that Polignac and the Duke of Orleans had both asked him whether the Duke of Clarence, when he became King, would keep the Duke of Wellington as his Minister, and the King said, 'What did you reply?' I
 Eldest son of King William IV. by Mrs. Jordan, who was shortly after the accession created an earl by his father. The rank of 'Marquis's younger children' was conferred upon the rest of the family. The King had nine natural children by Mrs. Jordan: 1, George, a major-general in the army, afterwards Earl of Munster; 2, Frederick, also in the army; 3, Adolphus, a rear-admiral; 4, Augustus, in holy orders; 5, Sophia, married to Lord de l'Isle; 6, Mary, married to Colonel Fox; 7, Elizabeth, married to the Earl of Errol; 8, Augusta, married first to the Hon. John Kennedy Erskine, and secondly to Lord John Frederick Gordon; 9, Amelia, married to Viscount Falkland.
 replied that you certainly would; did not I do right?' 'Certainly, you did quite right.'
He began immediately to do good-natured things, to provide for old friends and professional adherents, and he bestowed a pension upon Tierney's widow. The great offices of Chamberlain and Steward he abandoned to the Duke of Wellington. There never was anything like the enthusiasm with which he was greeted by all ranks; though he has trotted about both town and country for sixty-four years, and nobody ever turned round to look at him, he cannot stir now without a mob, patrician as well as plebeian, at his heels. All the Park congregated round the gate to see him drive into town the day before yesterday. But in the midst of all this success and good conduct certain indications of strangeness and oddness peep out which are not a little alarming, and he promises to realise the fears of his Ministers that he will do and say too much, though they natter themselves that they have muzzled him in his approaching progress by reminding him that his words will be taken as his Ministers', and he must, therefore, be chary of them.
At the late King's funeral he behaved with great indecency. That ceremony was very well managed, and a fine sight, the military part particularly, and the Guards were magnificent. The attendance was not very numerous, and when they had all got together in St. George's Hall a gayer company I never beheld; with the exception of Mount Charles, who was deeply affected, they were all as merry as grigs. The King was chief mourner, and, to my astonishment, as he entered the chapel directly behind the body, in a situation in which he should have been apparently, if not really, absorbed in the melancholy duty he was performing, he darted up to Strathaven, who was ranged on one side below the Dean's stall, shook him heartily by the hand, and then went on nodding to the right and left. He had previously gone as chief mourner to sit for an hour at the head of the body as it lay in state, and he walked in procession with his household to the apartment. I saw him pass from behind the screen. Lord Jersey had been in the morning to Bushey  to kiss hands on being made Chamberlain, when he had received him very graciously, told him it was the Duke and not himself who had made him, but that he was delighted to have him. At Windsor, when he arrived, he gave Jersey the white wand, or rather took one from him he had provided for himself, and gave it him again with a little speech. When he went to sit in state, Jersey preceded him, and he said when all was ready, 'Go on to the body, Jersey; you will get your dress coat as soon as you can.' The morning after the funeral, having slept at Frogmore, he went all over the Castle, into every room in the house, which he had never seen before except when he came there as a guest; after which he received an address from the ecclesiastical bodies of Windsor and Eton, and returned an answer quite unpremeditated which they told me was excellent.
He is very well with all his family, particularly the Duke of Sussex, but he dislikes and seems to know the Duke of Cumberland, who is furious at his own discredit. The King has taken from him the Gold Stick, by means of which he had usurped the functions of all the other colonels of the regiments of the Guards, and put himself always about the late King. He says the Duke's rank is too high to perform those functions, and has put an end to his services. He has only put the Gold Sticks on their former footing, and they are all to take the duty in turn.
In the meantime the Duke of Cumberland has shown his teeth in another way. His horses have hitherto stood in the stables which are appropriated to the Queen, and the other day Lord Errol, her new Master of the Horse, went to her Majesty and asked her where she chose her horses should be; she said, of course, she knew nothing about it, but in the proper place. Errol than said the Duke of Cumberland's horses were in her stables, and could not be got out without an order from the King. The King was spoken to, and he commanded the Duke of Leeds to order them out. The Duke of Leeds took the order to the Duke of Cumberland, who said 'he would be damned if they should go, 'when the Duke of Leeds said that he trusted he would have them  taken out the following day, as unless he did so he should be under the necessity of ordering them to be removed by the King's grooms, when the Duke was obliged sulkily to give way. When the King gave the order to the Duke of Leeds, he sent for Taylor that he might be present, and said at the same time that he had a very bad opinion of the Duke of Cumberland, and he wished he would live out of the country.
The King's good-nature, simplicity, and affability to all about him are certainly very striking, and in his elevation he does not forget any of his old friends and companions. He was in no hurry to take upon himself the dignity of King, nor to throw off the habits and manners of a country gentleman. When Lord Chesterfield went to Bushey to kiss his hand and be presented to the Queen, he found Sir John and Lady Gore there lunching, and when they went away the King called for their carriage, handed Lady Gore into it, and stood at the door to see them off. When Lord Howe came over from Twickenham to see him, he said the Queen was going out driving, and should 'drop him 'at his own house. The Queen, they say, is by no means delighted at her elevation. She likes quiet and retirement and Bushey (of which the King has made her Ranger), and does not want to be a Queen. However, 'l'appétit viendra en mangeant.' He says he does not want luxury and magnificence, has slept in a cot, and he has dismissed the King's cooks, 'renversé la marmite'. He keeps the stud (which is to be diminished) because he thinks he ought to support the turf. He has made Mount Charles a Lord of the Bedchamber, and given the Robes to Sir C. Pole, an admiral. Altogether he seems a kind-hearted, well-meaning, not stupid, burlesque, bustling old fellow, and if he doesn't go mad may make a very decent King, but he exhibits oddities. He would not have his servants in mourning that is, not those of his own family and household but he sent the Duke of Sussex to Mrs. Fitzherbert to desire she would put hers in mourning, and consequently so they are. The King and she have always been friends, as she has, in fact, been with all the Royal Family, but it was very  strange. Yesterday morning he sent for the officer on guard, and ordered him to take all the muffles off the drums, the scarfs off the regimentals, and so to appear on parade, where he went himself. The colonel would have put the officer under arrest for doing this without his orders, but the King said he was commanding officer of his own guard, and forbade him. All odd, and people are frightened, but his wits will at least last till the new Parliament meets. I sent him a very respectful request through Taylor that he would pay £300, all that remained due of the Duke of York's debts at Newmarket, which he assented to directly, as soon as the Privy Purse should be settled — very good-natured. In the meantime it is said that the bastards are dissatisfied that more is not done for them, but he cannot do much for them at once, and he must have time. He has done all he can: he has made Errol Master of the Horse, Sidney a Guelph and Equerry, George Fitzclarence the same and Adjutant-General, and doubtless they will all have their turn. Of course the stories told about the rapacity of the Conynghams have been innumerable. The King's will excited much astonishment, but as yet nothing is for certain known about the money, or what became of it, or what he gave away, and to whom, in his lifetime.
Yesterday was a very busy day with his Majesty, who is going much too fast, and begins to alarm his Ministers and astonish the world. In the morning he inspected the Coldstream Guards, dressed (for the first time in his life) in a military uniform and with a great pair of gold spurs half-way up his legs like a game-cock, although he was not to ride, for having chalk-stones in his hands he can't hold the reins. The Queen came to Lady Bathurst's to see the review and hold a sort of drawing-room, when the Ministers' wives were presented to her, and official men, to which were added Lady Bathurst's relations; everybody was in undress except the officers. She is very ugly, with a horrid complexion, but has good manners, and did all this (which she hated) very well. She said the part as if she was acting, and wished the green curtain to drop. After  the review the King, with the Dukes of Cumberland, Sussex, and Gloucester, and Prince George and the Prince of Prussia, and the Duchess of Cumberland's son, came in through the garden gate; the Duchess of Gloucester and Princess Augusta were already there; they breakfasted and then went away, the Duke of Gloucester bowing to the company while nobody was taking any notice of him or thinking about him. Nature must have been merry when she made this Prince, and in the sort of mood that certain great artists used to exhibit in their comical caricatures; I never saw a countenance which that line in Dryden's M'Flecknoe would so well describe —
And lambent dulness plays around his face.
At one there was to be a Council, to swear in Privy Councillors and Lords-Lieutenant, and receive Oxford and Cambridge addresses. The review made it an hour later, and the Lieutenants, who had been summoned at one, and who are great, selfish, pampered aristocrats, were furious at being kept waiting, particularly Lord Grosvenor and the Duke of Newcastle, the former very peevish, the latter bitter-humoured. I was glad to see them put to inconvenience. I never saw so full a Court, so much nobility with academical tagrag and bobtail. After considerable delay the King received the Oxford and Cambridge addresses on the throne, which (having only one throne between them) he then abdicated for the Queen to seat herself on and receive them too. She sat it very well, surrounded by the Princesses and her ladies and household. When this mob could be got rid of the table was brought in and the Council held. The Duke was twice sworn as Constable of the Tower and Lieutenant of Hants; then Jersey and the new Privy Councillors; and then the host of Lieutenants six or seven at a time, or as many as could hold a bit of the Testament. I begged the King would, to expedite the business, dispense with their kneeling, which he did, and so we got on rapidly enough; and I whispered to Jersey, who stood by me behind the King with his white wand, 'The farce is good, isn't it?'as they each kissed his hand. I told him their name or county, or  both, and he had a civil word to say to everybody, inviting some to dinner, promising to visit others, reminding them of former visits, or something good-humoured; he asked Lord Egremont's permission to go and live in his county, at Brighton.
All this was very well; no great harm in it; more affable, less dignified than the late King; but when this was over, and he might very well have sat himself quietly down and rested, he must needs put on his plainer clothes and start on a ramble about the streets, alone too. In Pall Mall he met Watson Taylor, and took his arm and went up St. James's Street. There he was soon followed by a mob making an uproar, and when he got near White's a woman came up and kissed him. Belfast (who had been sworn in Privy Councillor in the morning), who saw this from White's, and Clinton thought it time to interfere, and came out to attend upon him. The mob increased, and always holding W. Taylor's arm, and flanked by Clinton and Belfast, who got shoved and kicked about to their inexpressible wrath, he got back to the Palace amid shouting and bawling and applause. When he got home he asked them to go in and take a quiet walk in the garden, and said, 'Oh, never mind all this; when I have walked about a few times they will get used to it, and will take no notice.' There are other stories, but I will put down nothing I do not see or hear, or hear from the witnesses. Belfast told me this in the Park, fresh from the scene and smarting from the buffeting he had got. All the Park was ringing with it, and I told Lady Bathurst, who thought it so serious she said she would get Lord Bathurst to write to the Duke directly about it. Lord Combermere wanted to be made a Privy Councillor yesterday, but the Duke would not let it be done; he is in a sort of half-disgrace, and is not to be made yet, but will be by-and-by.
Grove Road, July 21st.
I came and established myself here last night after the Duchess of Bedford's ball. Lady Bathurst told me that the Queen spoke to her yesterday morning about the King's walk and being followed, and said that for the future he must walk early in the morning, or in some less public place, so there are hopes that his activity may be tamed. He sent George Fitzclarence off from dinner in his silk stockings and cocked hat to Boulogne to invite the King of Würtemberg to come here; he was back in fifty-six hours, and might have been in less. He employs him in everything, and I heard Fitzclarence yesterday ask the Duke of Leeds for two of his father's horses to ride about on his jobs and relieve his own, which the Duke agreed to, but made a wry face. Mount Charles has refused to be Lord of the Bedchamber; his wife can't bear it, and he doesn't like to go to Windsor under such altered circumstances. I hardly ever record the scandalous stories of the day, unless they relate to characters or events, but what relates to public men is different from the loves and friendships of the idiots of society.
Went to St. James's the day before yesterday for a Council for the dissolution, but there was none. Yesterday morning there was an idea of having one, but it is to-day instead, and early in the morning, that the Ministers may be able to go to their fish dinner at Greenwich. I called on the Duke yesterday evening to know about a Council, but he could not tell me. Then came a Mr. Moss (or his card) while I was there. 'Who is he ?'I said. 'Oh, a man who wants to see me about a canal. I can't see him. Everybody will see me, and how the Devil they think I am to see everybody, and be the whole morning with the King, and to do the whole business of the country, I don't know. I am quite worn out with it.' I longed to tell him that it is this latter part they would willingly relieve him from.
I met Vesey Fitzgerald, just come from Paris, and had a long conversation with him about the state of the Government; he seems aware of the difficulties and the necessity of acquiring more strength, of the universal persuasion that the Duke will be all in all, and says that in the Cabinet nobody can be more reasonable and yielding and deferential to the opinions of his colleagues. But Murray's  appointment, he says, was a mistake,  and no personal consideration should induce the Duke to sacrifice the interests of the country by keeping him; it may be disagreeable to dismiss him, but he must do it. Hay told me that for the many years he had been in office he had never met with any public officer so totally inefficient as he, not even Warrender at the Admiralty Board.
In the meantime the King has had his levee, which was crowded beyond all precedent. He was very civil to the people, particularly to Sefton, who had quarrelled with the late King.
Yesterday he went to the House of Lords, and was admirably received. I can fancy nothing like his delight at finding himself in the state coach surrounded by all his pomp. He delivered the Speech very well, they say, for I did not go to hear him. He did not wear the crown, which was carried by Lord Hastings. Etiquette is a thing he cannot comprehend. He wanted to take the King of Würtemberg with him in his coach, till he was told it was out of the question. In his private carriage he continues to sit backwards, and when he goes with men makes one sit by him and not opposite to him. Yesterday, after the House of Lords, he drove all over the town in an open calèche with the Queen, Princess Augusta and the King of Würtemberg, and coming home he set down the King (dropped him, as he calls it) at Grillon's Hotel. The King of England dropping another king at a tavern! It is impossible not to be struck with his extreme good-nature and simplicity, which he cannot or will not exchange for the dignity of his new situation and the trammels of etiquette; but he ought to be made to understand that his simplicity degenerates into vulgarity, and that without departing from his natural urbanity he may conduct himself so as not to lower the character with which he is invested, and which belongs not to him, but to the country.
 Sir George Murray was Secretary of State for the Colonial Department
 At his dinner at St. James's the other day more people were invited than there was room for, and some half-dozen were forced to sit at a side table. He said to Lord Brownlow, 'Well, when you are flooded (he thinks Lincolnshire is all fen) you will come to us at Windsor.' To the Freemasons he was rather good. The Duke of Sussex wanted him to receive their address in a solemn audience, which he refused, and when they did come he said, 'Gentlemen, if my love for you equalled my ignorance of everything concerning you, it would be unbounded, 'and then he added something good-humoured. The consequence of his trotting about, and saying the odd things he does, is that there are all sorts of stories about him which are not true, and he is always expected everywhere. In the meantime I believe that politically he relies implicitly on the Duke, who can make him do anything. Agar Ellis (who is bustling and active, always wishing to play a part, and gets mixed up with the politics of this and that party through his various connections) told me the other day that he knew the Duke was knocking at every door, hitherto without success, and that he must be contented to take a party, and not expect to strengthen himself by picking out individuals. I think this too, but why not open his doors to all comers? There are no questions now to stand in his way; his Government must be re-modelled, and he may last for ever personally.
Yesterday at Court at eleven; a Council for the dissolution. This King and these Councils are very unlike the last few people present, frequent, punctual, less ceremony observed. Though these Ministers have been in office all their lives, nobody knew how many days must elapse before Parliament was summoned; some said sixty, some seventy days, but not one knew, nor had they settled the matter previously; so Lord Rosslyn and I were obliged to go to Bridgewater House, which was near, and consult the journals. It has always been fifty-two days of late.
In the afternoon another embarrassment. We sent the proclamations to the Chancellor (one for England and one for Ireland), to have the Great Seal affixed to  them; he would only affix the Seal to the English, and sent back the Irish unsealed. The Secretary of State would not send it to Ireland without the Great Seal, and all the Ministers were gone to the fish dinner at Greenwich, so that there was no getting at anybody. At last we got it done at Lincoln's Inn and sent it off. The fact is, nobody knows his business, and the Chancellor least of all. The King continues very active; he went after the Council to Buckingham House, then to the Thames Tunnel, has immense dinners every day, and the same people two or three days running. He has dismissed the late King's band, and employs the bands of the Guards every night, who are ready to die of it, for they get no pay and are prevented earning money elsewhere. The other night the King had a party, and at eleven o'clock he dismissed them thus: 'Now, ladies and gentlemen, I wish you a good night. I will not detain you any longer from your amusements, and shall go to my own, which is to go to bed; so come along, my Queen'. The other day he was very angry because the guard did not know him in his plain clothes and turn out for him the first appearance of jealousy of his greatness he has shown and he ordered them to be more on the alert for the future.
Still the King; his adventures (for they are nothing else) furnish matter of continual amusement and astonishment to his liege subjects. Yesterday morning, or the evening before, he announced to the Duke of Wellington that he should dine with him yesterday; accordingly the Duke was obliged, in the midst of preparations for his breakfast, to get a dinner ready for him. In the morning he took the King of Würtemberg to Windsor, and just at the hour when the Duke expected him to dinner he was driving through Hyde Park back from Windsor three barouches-and-four, the horses dead knocked up, in the front the two Kings, Jersey, and somebody else, all covered with dust. The whole mob of carriages and horsemen assembled near Apsley House to see him pass and to wait till he returned. The Duke, on hearing he was there, rushed down without his hat and stood in his gate in the middle of servants, mob, &c., to  see him pass. He drove to Grillon's 'to drop' the King of Würtemberg, and at a quarter past eight he arrived at Apsley House. There were about forty-five men, no women, half the Ministers, most of the foreign Ministers, and a mixture rather indiscriminate. In the evening I was at Lady Salisbury's, when arrived the Duke of Sussex, who gave a short account to Sefton of what had passed, and of the King's speech to the company. 'You and I, 'he said, 'are old Whigs, my Lord, and I confess I was somewhat astonished to hear his Majesty's speech .' I went afterwards to Crockford's, where I found Matuscewitz, who gave me a whole account of the dinner. The two Kings went out to dinner arm-in-arm, the Duke followed; the King sat between the King of Würtemberg and the Duke. After dinner his health was drunk, to which he returned thanks, sitting, but briefly, and promised to say more by-and-by when he should give a toast. In process of time he desired Douro to go and tell the band to play the merriest waltz they could for the toast he was about to give. He then gave 'The Queen of Würtemberg, 'with many eulogiums on her and on the connubial felicity of her and the King; not a very agreeable theme for his host, for conjugal fidelity is not his forte. At length he desired Douro to go again to the band and order them to play 'See the conquering hero comes, 'and then he rose. All the company rose with him, when he ordered everybody to sit down. Still standing, he said that he had been so short a time on the throne that he did not know whether etiquette required that he should speak sitting or standing, but, however this might be, he had been long used to speak on his legs, and should do so now; he then proposed the Duke's health, but prefaced it with a long speech instituted a comparison between him and the Duke of Marlborough; went back to the reign of Queen Anne, and talked of the great support the Duke of Marlborough had received from the Crown, and the little support the Duke of Wellington had had in the outset of his career, though after the battle of Vimeiro he had been backed by all the energies of the country; that, notwithstanding his difficulties, his  career had been one continued course of victory over the armies of France; and then recollecting the presence of Laval, the French Ambassador, he said, 'Remember, Due de Laval, when I talk of victories over the French armies, they were not the armies of my ally and friend the King of France, but of him who had usurped his throne, and against whom you yourself were combating;'then going back to the Duke's career, and again referring to the comparison between him and Marlborough, and finishing by adverting to his political position, that he had on mounting the throne found the Duke Minister, and that he had retained him. because he thought his Administration had been and would be highly beneficial to the country; that he gave to him his fullest and most cordial confidence, and that he announced to all whom he saw around him, to all the Ambassadors and Ministers of foreign Powers, and to all the noblemen and gentlemen present, that as long as he should sit upon the throne he should continue to give him the same confidence. The Duke returned thanks in a short speech, thanking the King for his confidence and support, and declaring that all his endeavours would be used to keep this country in relations of harmony with other nations. The whole company stood aghast at the King's extraordinary speech and declaration. Matuscewitz told me he never was so astonished, that for the world he would not have missed it, and that he would never have believed in it if he had not heard it.
Falck  gave me a delightful account of the speech and of Laval. He thought, not understanding one word, that all the King was saying was complimentary to the King of France and the French nation, and he kept darting from his seat to make his acknowledgments, while Esterhazy held him down by the tail of his coat, and the King stopped him
 Baron Falck, Dutch Minister at the Court of St. James's. M. de Laval was the French Ambassador. This dinner took place on the day after the publication of the Ordinances of July. Three days later Charles X. had ceased to reign. M. de Laval instantly left London on the receipt of the intelligence, leaving M. de Vaudreuil as Chargé d'Affaires.
 with his hand outstretched, all with great difficulty. He said it was very comical.
Review in the morning (yesterday), breakfast at Apsley House, chapter of the Garter, dinner at St. James's, party in the evening, and ball at Apsley House. I don't hear of anything remarkable, and it was so hot I could not go to anything, except the breakfast, which I just looked in to for a minute, and found everybody sweating and stuffing and the royalties just going away. The Duke of Gloucester keeps up his quarrel with the Duke; the Duke of Cumberland won't go to Apsley House, but sent the Duchess and his boy. The Queen said at dinner the other day to the Duke of Cumberland, 'I am very much pleased with you for sending the Duchess to Apsley House, 'and then turned to the Duke of Gloucester and said, 'but I am not pleased with you for not letting the Duchess go there'. The fool answered that the Duchess should never go there; he would not be reconciled, forgetting that it matters not twopence to the Duke of Wellington and a great deal to himself.
I have been employed in settling half-a-dozen disputes of different sorts, but generally without success, trifling matters, foolish or violent people, not worth remembering any of them. The Chancellor, who does not know his own business, has made an attack on my office about the proclamations, but I have vindicated it in a letter to Lord Bathurst.
Yesterday Charles Wynn and I settled the dispute between Clive and Charlton about the Ludlow matters. Charlton agrees to retire from the contest both in the Borough and Corporation, and Clive agrees to pay him £1,125 towards his expenses, and not to oppose the reception of any petition that may be presented to the House of Commons for the purpose of re-opening the question of the right of voting. Both parties are very well satisfied with this termination of their disputes. Met the Chancellor at Lady Ravensworth's breakfast yesterday, who told me he had sent a rejoinder to my letter to Lord Bathurst about the proclamations.
Yesterday a standing Council at the levee  to swear in Lord Hereford and Vesey Fitzgerald, and to declare Lord Bathurst President of the Council and the Duke of Northumberland Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland. Previously the King received the address of the dissenting ministers, and then that of the Quakers, presented by William Allen; they were very prim and respectable persons; their hats were taken off by each other in the room before the Throne Room, and they did not bow, though they seemed half-inclined to do so; they made a very loyal address, but without 'Majesty,' and said 'King.' There was a question after his answer what they should do. I thought it was whether they should kiss hands, for the King said something to Peel, who went and asked them, and I heard the King say, 'Oh, just as they like; they needn't if they don't like; it's all one.'
But the great event of the day was the reception of the King of France's two decrees, and the address of his Ministers, who produced them; nothing could surpass the universal astonishment and consternation. Falck told me he was reading the newspaper at his breakfast regularly through, and when he came to this the teacup almost dropped from his hands, and he rubbed his eyes to see whether he read correctly. Such was the secresy with which this measure was conceived and acted on, that Pozzo, who is quicker and has better intelligence than anybody, had not a notion of it, as Matuscewitz told me. Aberdeen learnt it through the 'Times,' and had not a line from Stuart. That, however, is nothing extraordinary. I suspect somebody had it, for Raikes wrote me a note the day before, to ask me if there was not something bad from France. Matuscewitz told me that Russia would not afford Charles X. the smallest support in his new crusade against the Constitution of France, and this he pronounced openly à qui voulait I'entendre. I suspect the Duke will be desperately annoyed. The only Minister I had a word with about it was Lord Bathurst, whose Tory blood bubbled a little quicker at such a despotic act, and while owning the folly of the deed he could not help adding that 'he should have repressed the  press when he dissolved the Chambers, then he might have done it.'
Everybody anxious for news from France. A few hope, and still fewer think, the King of France will succeed, and that the French will submit, but the press here joins in grand chorus against the suppression of the liberty of that over the water. Matuscewitz told me he had a conference with the Duke, who was excessively annoyed, but what seems to have struck him more than anything is the extraordinary secresy of the business, and neither Pozzo nor Stuart having known one word of it. Up to the last Polignac has deceived everybody, and put such words into the King's mouth that nobody could expect such a coup. The King assured Pozzo di Borgo the day before that nothing of the sort was in contemplation. This, like everything else, will be judged by the event desperate fatuity if it fails, splendid energy and accurate calculation of opposite moral forces if it succeeds. I judge that it will fail, because I can see no marks of wisdom in the style of execution, and the State paper is singularly puerile and weak in argument. It is passionate and not dexterous, not even plausible. All this is wonderfully interesting, and will give us a lively autumn.
The King has been to Woolwich, inspecting the artillery, to whom he gave a dinner, with toasts and hip, hip, hurrahing and three times three, himself giving the time. I tremble for him; at present he is only a mountebank, but he bids fair to be a maniac.
Brougham will come in for Yorkshire without a contest; his address was very eloquent. He is rather mad without a doubt; his speeches this year have been sometimes more brilliant than ever they were; but who with such stupendous talents was ever so little considered? We admire him as we do a fine actor, and nobody ever possessed such enormous means, and displayed a mind so versatile, fertile, and comprehensive, and yet had so little efficacy and influence. He told me just before he left town that Yorkshire had been proposed to him, but that he had written word he would not  stand, nor spend a guinea, nor go there, nor even take the least trouble about the concerns of any one of his constituents, if they elected him; but he soon changed his note.
Yesterday morning I met Matuscewitz in St. James's Street, who said, 'You have heard the news ?' But I had not, so I got into his cabriolet, and he told me that Bülow had just been with him with an account of Rothschild's estafette, who had brought intelligence of a desperate conflict at Paris between the people and the Royal Guard, in which 1,000 men had been killed of the former, and of the eventual revolt of two regiments, which decided the business; that the Swiss had refused to fire on the people; the King is gone to Rambouillet, the Ministers are missing, and the Deputies who were at Paris had assembled in the Chambers, and declared their sittings permanent. Nothing can exceed the interest and excitement that all these proceedings create here, and unless there is a reaction, which does not seem probable, the game is up with the Bourbons. They richly deserve their fate. It remains to be seen what part Bourmont and the Algerian army will take; the latter will probably side with the nation, and the former will be guided by his own interest, and is not unlikely to endeavour to direct a spirit which he could not expect to control. He may reconcile himself to the country by a double treachery.
To-day at one o'clock Stuart's messenger arrived with a meagre account, having left Paris on the night of the 29th. The tricoloured flag had been raised; the National Guard was up, commanded by old Lafayette (their chief forty years ago), who ruled in Paris with Gerard, Odier, Casimir Perier, Lafitte, and one or two more. The Tuileries and the Louvre had been pillaged; the King was at Rambouillet, where Marshal Marmont had retired, and had with him a large force. Nobody, however, believed they would fight against the people. The Deputies and the Peers had met, and the latter separated without doing anything; the former had a stormy discussion, but came to no resolution. Some were for a republic, some for the Duke of Orleans, some for the Duke of Bordeaux with the Duke of Orleans as Regent.
 Rothschild had another courier with later intelligence. The King had desired to treat, and that proposals might be made to him; all the Ministers escaped from Paris by a subterranean passage which led from the Tuileries to the river, and even at St. Cloud the Duke told Matuscewitz that 'Marmont had taken up a good military position,' as if it was a military and not a moral question. Strange he should think of such a thing, but they are all terrified to death at the national flag and colours, because they see in its train revolutions, invasions, and a thousand alarms. I own I would rather have seen an easy transfer of the crown to some other head under the white flag. There was Lady Tankerville going about to-day enquiring of everybody for news, trembling for her brother 'and his brigade.' Late in the day she got Lady Jersey to go with her to Rothschild, whom she saw, and Madame Rothschild, who showed her all their letters. Tankerville, who is a sour, malignant little Whig (since become an ultra-Tory), loudly declares Polignac ought to be hung. The elections here are going against Government, and no candidate will avow that he stands on Government interest, or with the intention of supporting the Duke's Ministry, which looks as if it had lost all its popularity.
Yesterday (Sunday) we had no news and no reports, except one that Marmont was killed. I never believe reports. The elections still go against Government. G. Dawson returned from Dublin; all the Peels lose their seats. Fordwich beat Baring at Canterbury by 370 votes. It is said the King was in a state of great excitement at Woolwich the other day, when it was very hot, and he drank a, good deal of wine.
This morning, on going into town, I read in the 'Times' the news of the day the proclamation of the Provisional Government, the invitation to the Duke of Orleans, his proclamation, and the account of the conversation between Lafitte and Marmont. It is in vain to look for private or official information, for the 'Times' always has the latest and the best; Stuart sends next to nothing. Soon after I got to George Street the Duke of Wellington  came in, in excellent spirits, and talked over the whole matter. He said he could not comprehend how the Royal Guard had been defeated by the mob, and particularly how they had been forced to evacuate the Tuileries; that he had seen English and French troops hold houses whole days not one-fourth so strong. I said that there could not be a shadow of doubt that it was because they would not fight, that if they would have fought they must have beat the mob, and reminded him of the French at Madrid, and asked him if he did not think his regiment would beat all the populace of London, which he said it would. He described the whole affair as it has taken place, and said that there can be no doubt that the moneyed men of Paris (who are all against the Government) and the Liberals had foreseen a violent measure on the part of the King, and had organised the resistance; that on the appearance of the edicts the bankers simultaneously refused to discount any bills, on which the great manufacturers and merchants dismissed their workmen, to the number of many thousands, who inflamed the public discontent, and united to oppose the military and the execution of the decrees. He said positively that we should not take any part, and that no other Government ought or could. He does not like the Duke of Orleans, and thinks his proclamation mean and shabby, but owned that under all circumstances his election to the crown would probably be the best thing that could happen. The Duke of Chartres he had known here, and thought he was intelligent. The Duke considered the thing as settled, but did not feel at all sure they would offer the crown to the Duke of Orleans. He said he could not guess or form an opinion as to their ulterior proceedings.
After discussing the whole business with his usual simplicity, he began talking of the Duke of Cumberland and his resignation of the command of the Blues. Formerly the colonels of the two regiments of Life Guards held alternately the Gold Stick, and these two regiments were under the immediate orders of the King, and not of the Commander-in-Chief When the Duke of Wellington returned  from Spain and had the command of the Blues, the King insisted upon his taking the duty also; so it was divided into three, but the Blues still continued under the Commander-in-Chief. But when the Duke of Cumberland wanted to be continually about the King, he got him to give him the command of the Household troops; this was at the period of the death of the Duke of York and the Duke of Wellington's becoming Commander-in-Chief. The Duke of Cumberland told the Duke of Wellington that he had received the King's verbal commands to that effect, and from that time he alone kept the Gold Stick, and the Blues were withdrawn from the authority of the Commander-in-Chief. The Duke of Wellington made no opposition; but last year, during the uproar on the Catholic question, he perceived the inconvenience of the arrangement, and intended to speak to the King about it, for the Duke of Cumberland was concerned in organising mobs to go down to Windsor to frighten Lady Conyngham and the King, and the Horse Guards, who would naturally have been called out to suppress any tumult, would not have been disposable without the Duke of Cumberland's concurrence, so much so that on one particular occasion, when the Kentish men were to have gone to Windsor 20,000 strong, the Duke of Wellington detained a regiment of light cavalry who were marching elsewhere, that he might not be destitute of military aid. Before, however, he did anything about this with the King ('I always,' he said, 'do one thing at a time') his Majesty was taken ill and died.
On the accession of the present King the Duke of Cumberland wished to continue the same system, which his Majesty was resolved he should not, and he ordered that the colonels of the regiments should take the Stick in rotation. He also ordered (through Sir E. Peel) that Lord Combermere should command the troops at the funeral as Gold Stick. This the Duke of Cumberland resisted, and sent down orders to Lord Cathcart to assume the command. The Duke of Wellington, however, represented to Lord Cathcart that he had better do no such thing, as nobody could disobey the  King's orders gone through the Secretary of State, and accordingly he did nothing. But the King was determined to put an end to the pretensions of the Duke of Cumberland, and spoke to the Duke on the subject, and said that he would have all the regiments placed under the orders of the Commander-in-Chief. The Duke recommended him to replace the matter in the state in which it stood before the Duke of Cumberland's pretensions had altered it, but he would not do this, and chose to abide by his original intention; so the three regiments were placed under the orders of the Horse Guards like the rest, and the Duke of Cumberland in consequence resigned the command of the Blues.
Notwithstanding the above story, the King dined with the Duke of Cumberland at Kew yesterday. I went yesterday to the sale of the late King's wardrobe, which was numerous enough to fill Monmouth Street, and sufficiently various and splendid for the wardrobe of Drury Lane. He . hardly ever gave away anything except his linen, which was distributed every year. These clothes are the perquisite of his pages, and will fetch a pretty sum. There are all the coats he has ever had for fifty years, 300 whips, canes without number, every sort of uniform, the costumes of all the orders in Europe, splendid furs, pelisses, hunting-coats and breeches, and among other things a dozen pair of corduroy breeches he had made to hunt in when Don Miguel was here. His profusion in these articles was unbounded, because he never paid for them, and his memory was so accurate that one of his pages told me he recollected every article of dress, no matter how old, and that they were always liable to be called on to produce some particular coat or other article of apparel of years gone by. It is difficult to say whether in great or little things that man was most odious and contemptible.
Nothing from France yesterday but the most absurd reports.
Yesterday morning at a Council; all the Ministers, and the Duke of Rutland, Lords Somers, Rosslyn, and Gower to be sworn Lieutenants. Talked about France  with Sir G. Murray, who was silly enough to express his disappointment that things promised to be soon and quietly settled, and hoped the King would have assembled an army and fought for it. Afterwards a levee. While the Queen was in the closet they brought her word that Charles X. was at Cherbourg, and had sent for leave to come here; but nobody knew yesterday if this was true or not. In the afternoon I met Vaudreuil, and had a long conversation with him on the state of things. He said, 'My family has been twice ruined by these cursed Bourbons, and I will be damned if they shall a third time;' that he had long foreseen the inevitable tendency of Polignac's determination, ever since he was here, when he had surrounded himself with low agents and would admit no gentleman into his confidence; one of his affidés was a man of the name of Carrier, a relation of the famous Carrier de Nantes. Vaudreuil's father-in-law had consulted him many months ago what to do with £300,000 which he had in the French funds, and he advised him to sell it out and put it in his drawer, which he did, sacrificing the interest for that time. He had hitherto done nothing, been near none of the Ministers, feeling that he could say nothing to them; no communication had been made to him, but whenever any should be he intended to reply to it. Laval ran away just in time, and Vaudreuil was so provoked at his evasion that he sent after him to say that in such important circumstances he could not take upon himself to act without his Ambassador's instructions. No answer of course. He thinks that if this had not taken place a few years must have terminated the reign of the Bourbons, and that it is only the difference between sudden and lingering death; that when he was at Paris he had seen the dissatisfaction of the young officers in the Guards, who were all Liberal; and with these sentiments, what a condition they must have been in when called upon to charge and fire on the people while secretly approving of their conduct, entre leurs devoirs de citoyens et de militaires!'
I had a conversation with Fitzgerald (Vesey) the other day about the Government and its prospects. They want  him greatly to return to office, but he is going abroad again for his health, and I suspect is not very anxious to come in just now, when things look gloomy. He thinks they have acted very injudiciously in sending down candidates to turn out their opponents, attempts which generally failed, and only served to exasperate the people interested more and more against them. Such men as the Grants, as he said, cannot be kept out of Parliament. But they manage everything ill, and it is impossible to look at the present Ministry and watch its acts, and not marvel that the Duke should think of going on with it. If he does not take care he will be dragged down by it, whereas if he would, while it is yet time, remodel it altogether, and open his doors to all who are capable of serving under him (for all are ready to take him as chief), he might secure to himself a long and honourable possession of power. Then it is said he can't whistle off these men merely because it is convenient, but he had better do that than keep them on bungling through all the business of the country. Besides, I have some doubts of his tender-heartedness in this respect.
Goodwood, August 10th.
On Saturday, the 7th, the King and Queen breakfasted at Osterley, on their way to Windsor. They had about sixty or seventy people to meet them, and it all went off very well, without anything remarkable. I went to Stoke afterwards, where there was the usual sort of party.
The King entered Windsor so privately that few people knew him, though he made the horses walk all the way from Frogmore, that he might be seen. On Saturday and Sunday the Terrace was thrown open, and the latter day it was crowded by multitudes and a very gay sight; there were sentinels on each side of the east front to prevent people walking under the windows of the living-rooms, but they might go where else they liked. The King went to Bagshot and did not appear. All the late King's private drives through the Park are also thrown open, but not to carriages. We went, however, a long string of four carriages, to explore, and got through the whole drive round by Virginia Water, the famous fishing-pagoda, and saw all the penetralia of the late King,  whose ghost must have been indignant at seeing us (Sefton particularly) scampering all about his most secret recesses. It is an exceedingly enjoyable spot, and pretty, but has not so much beauty as I expected.
Came here yesterday, and found thirty-two people assembled. I rode over the downs three or four miles (from Petworth), and never saw so delightful a country to live in. There is an elasticity in the air and turf which communicates itself to the spirits.
In the meantime the French Revolution has been proceeding rapidly to its consummation, and the Duke of Orleans is King. Montrond, who was at Stoke, thinks that France will gravitate towards a republic, and principally for this reason, that there is an unusual love of equality, and no disposition to profit by the power of making majorats, therefore that there never can be anything like an aristocracy. We are so accustomed to see the regular working of our constitutional system, with all its parts depending upon each other, and so closely interwoven, that we have difficulty in believing that any monarchical government can exist which is founded on a basis so different. This is the great political problem which is now to be solved. I think, however, that in the present settlement it is not difficult to see the elements of future contention and the working of a strong democratical spirit. The crown has been conferred on the Duke of Orleans by the Chamber of Deputies alone, which, so far from inviting the Chamber of Peers to discuss the question of succession, has at the same time decreed a material alteration in that Chamber itself. It has at a blow cut off all the Peers of Villèle's great promotion, which is an enormous act of authority, although the measure may be advisable. There is also a question raised of the hereditary quality of the peerage, and I dare say that for the future at least peerages will not be hereditary; not that I think this signifies as to the existence of an aristocracy, for the constant subdivision of property must deprive the Chamber of all the qualities belonging to an English House of Lords, and it would perhaps be better to establish another  principle, such as that of promoting to the Chamber of Peers men (for life) of great wealth, influence, and ability, who would constitute an aristocracy of a different kind indeed, but more respectable and efficient, than a host of poor hereditary senators. What great men are Lord Lonsdale, the Duke of Rutland, and Lord Cleveland! but strip them of their wealth and power, what would they be? Among the most insignificant of mankind; but they all acquire a factitious consideration by the influence they possess to do good and evil, the extension of it over multitudes of dependents. The French can have no aristocracy but a personal one; ours is in the institution; theirs must be individually respectable, as ours is collectively looked up to. In the meantime it will be deemed a great step gained to have a monarchy established in France at all, even for the moment, but some people are alarmed at the excessive admiration which the French Revolution has excited in England, and there is a very general conviction that Spain will speedily follow the example of France, and probably Belgium also. Italy I don't believe will throw off the yoke; they have neither spirit nor unanimity, and the Austrian military force is too great to be resisted. But Austria will tremble and see that the great victory which Liberalism has gained has decided the question as to which principle, that of light or darkness, shall prevail for the future in the world.
London, August 14th.
Stayed at Goodwood till the 12th; went to Brighton, riding over the downs from Goodwood to Arundel, a delightful ride. How much I prefer England to Italy ! There we have mountains and sky; here, vegetation and verdure, fine trees and soft turf; and in the long run the latter are the most enjoyable. Yesterday came to London from Brighton; found things much as they were, but almost everybody gone out of town. The French are proceeding steadily in the reconstruction of their Government, but they have evinced a strong democratical spirit. The new King, too, conducts himself in a way that gives me a bad opinion of him; he is too complaisant to the rage for equality, and stoops more than he need do; in fact, he  overdoes it. It is a piece of abominably bad taste (to say no worse) to have conferred a pension on the author of the Marseillaise hymn; for what can be worse than to rake up the old ashes of Jacobinism, and what more necessary than to distinguish as much as possible this Revolution from that of 1789? Then he need not be more familiar as King than he ever was as Duke of Orleans, and affect the manners of a citizen and a plainness of dress and demeanour very suitable to an American President, but unbecoming a descendant of Louis XIV.
The new Charter is certainly drawn up with great moderation, the few alterations which have been made approximating it to the spirit of the English Constitution, and in the whole of the proceedings the analogies of our Revolution have been pretty closely followed. But there has been a remarkable deviation, which I think ominous, and I can't imagine how it has escaped with so little animadversion here. That is the cavalier manner in which the Chamber of Peers has been treated, for the Deputies not only assumed all the functions of government and legislation, and disposed by their authority of the crown without inviting the concurrence of the other Chamber, but at the same time they exercised an enormous act of authority over the Chamber of Peers itself in striking off the whole of that great promotion of Charles X., which, however unwise and perhaps unconstitutional, was perfectly legal, and those Peers had, in fact, as good a right to their peerages as any of their colleagues. They have reconstructed the Chamber of Peers, and conferred upon it certain rights and privileges; but the power which can create can also destroy, and it must be pretty obvious after this that the Upper Chamber will be for the future nothing better than a superior Court of Judicature, depending for its existence upon the will of the popular branch. There are some articles of the old Charter which I am astonished at their keeping, but which they may possibly alter  at the revision which is to take place next year, those particularly
 They are altered. The first translation of the Charter which I read was incorrect.
 which limit the entrance to the Chamber of Deputies to men of forty, and which give the initiation of laws to the King. But on the whole it is a good sign that they should alter so little, and looks like extreme caution and a dislike to rapid and violent changes.
In the meantime we hear nothing of the old King, who marches slowly on with his family. It has been reported in London that Polignac is here, and also that he is taken. Nobody knows the truth. I have heard of his behaviour, however, which was worthy of his former imbecility. He remained in the same presumptuous confidence up to the last moment, telling those who implored him to retract while it was still time that they did not know France, that he did, that it was essentially Royalist, and all resistance would be over in a day or two, till the whole ruin burst on him at once, when he became like a man awakened from a dream, utterly confounded with the magnitude of the calamity and as pusillanimous and miserable as he had before been blind and confident. It must be owned that their end has been worthy of the rest, for not one of them has evinced good feeling, or magnanimity, or courage in their fall, nor excited the least sympathy or commiseration. The Duke of Fitzjames made a good speech in the Chamber of Peers, and Chateaubriand a very fine one a few days before, full of eloquence in support of the claim of the Duke of Bordeaux against that of Louis Philippe I.
In the meantime our elections here are still going against Government, and the signs of the times are all for reform and retrenchment, and against slavery. It is astonishing the interest the people generally take in the slavery question, which is the work of the Methodists, and shows the enormous influence they have in the country. The Duke (for I have not seen him) is said to be very easy about the next Parliament, whereas, as far as one can judge, it promises to be quite as unmanageable as the last, and is besides very ill-composed full of boys and all sorts of strange men.
On Monday to Stoke; Alvanley, Fitzroy Somerset, Matuscewitz, Stanislas Potocki, Glengall, and Mornay were there. Lady Sefton (who had dined at the Castle a few days before) asked the King to allow her to take Stanislas Potocki to see Virginia Water in a carriage, which is not allowed, but which his Majesty agreed to. Accordingly we started, and going through the private drives, went up to the door of the tent opposite the fishing-house. They thought it was the Queen coining, or at any rats a party from the Castle, for the man on board the little frigate hoisted all the colours, and the boatmen on the other side got ready the royal barge to take us across. We went all over the place on both sides, and were delighted with the luxury and beauty of the whole thing. On one side are a number of tents, communicating together in separate apartments and forming a very good house, a dining-room, drawing-room, and several other small rooms, very well furnished; across the water is the fishing-cottage, beautifully ornamented, with one large room and a dressing-room on each side; the kitchen and offices are in a garden full of flowers, shut out from everything. Opposite the windows is moored a large boat, in which the band used to play during dinner, and in summer the late King dined every day either in the house or in the tents. We had scarcely seen everything when Mr. Turner, the head keeper, arrived in great haste, having spied us from the opposite side, and very angry at our carriages having come there, which is a thing forbidden; he did not know of our leave, nor could we even satisfy him that we were not to blame.
The next day I called on Batchelor (he was valet de chambre to the Duke of York, afterwards to George IV.), who has an excellent apartment in the Lodge, which, he said, was once occupied by Nell Gwynne, though I did not know the lodge was built at that time. I was there a couple of hours, and heard all the details of the late King's illness and other things. For many months before his death those who were about him were aware of his danger, but nobody dared to say a word. The King liked to cheat people with making them think he was well, and when he had been at a Council he would return to his apartments and tell his valets de chambre how he had deceived them.
 During his illness he was generally cheerful, but occasionally dejected, and constantly talked of his brother the Duke of York, and of the similarity of their symptoms, and was always comparing them. He had been latterly more civil to Knighton than he used to be, and Knighton's attentions to him were incessant; whenever he thought himself worse than usual, and in immediate danger, he always sent for Sir William. Lady Conyngham and her family went into his room once a day; till his illness he always used to go and sit in hers. It is true that last year, when she was so ill, she was very anxious to leave the Castle, and it was Sir William Knighton who with great difficulty induced her to stay there. At that time she was in wretched spirits, and did nothing but pray from morning till night. However, her conscience does not seem ever to have interfered with her ruling passion, avarice, and she went on accumulating. During the last illness wagons were loaded every night and sent away from the Castle, but what their contents were was not known, at least Batchelor did not say. All Windsor knew this. Those servants of the King who were about his person had opportunities of hearing a great deal, for he used to talk of everybody before them, and without reserve or measure.
This man Batchelor had become a great favourite with the late King. The first of his pages, William Holmes, had for some time been prevented by ill health from attending him. Holmes had been with him from a boy, and was also a great favourite; by appointments and perquisites he had as much as £12,000 or £14,000 a year, but he had spent so much in all sorts of debauchery and living like a gentleman that he was nearly ruined. There seems to have been no end to the tracasseries between these men; their anxiety to get what they could out of the King's wardrobe in the last weeks, and their dishonesty in the matter, were excessive, all which he told me in great detail. The King was more than anybody the slave of habit and open to impressions, and even when he did not like people he continued to keep them about him rather than change.
While I was at Stoke news came that Charles X. had  arrived off Portsmouth. He has asked for an asylum in Austria, but when once he has landed here he will not move again, I dare say. The enthusiasm which the French Revolution produced is beginning to give way to some alarm, and not a little disgust at the Duke of Orleans ' conduct, who seems anxious to assume the character of a Jacobin King, affecting extreme simplicity and laying aside all the pomp of royalty. I don't think it can do, and there is certainly enough to cause serious disquietude for the future.
Sefton in the meantime told me that Brougham and Lord Grey were prepared for a violent opposition, and that they had effected a formal junction with Huskisson, being convinced that no Government could now be formed without him. I asked him if Palmerston was a party to this junction, and he said he was, but the first thing I heard when I got to town was that a negotiation is going on between Palmerston and the Duke, and that the former takes every opportunity of declaring his goodwill to the latter, and how unshackled he is. Both these things can't be true, and time will show which is. It seems odd that Palmerston should abandon his party on the eve of a strong coalition, which is not unlikely to turn out the present Administration, but it is quite impossible to place any dependence upon public men now-a-days. There is Lord Grey with his furious opposition, having a little while ago supported the Duke in a sort of way, having advised Rosslyn to take office, and now, because his own vanity is hurt at not being invited to join the Government, or more consulted at least, upon the slight pretext of the Galway Bill in the last Parliament he rushes into rancorous opposition, and is determined to give no quarter and listen to no compromise. Brougham is to lead this Opposition in the House of Commons, and Lord Grey in the Lords, and nothing is to be done but as the result of general deliberation and agreement. Brougham in the meantime has finished his triumph at York in a miserable way, having insulted Martin Stapylton on the hustings, who called him to account, and then he forgot what he had said, and slunk away with a disclaimer of unintentional offence, as usual beginning with  intemperance and ending with submission. His speeches were never good, but at his own dinner he stated so many untruths about the Duke of Wellington that his own partisans bawled out 'No, no,' and it was a complete failure. His whole spirit there was as bad as possible, paltry and commonplace. That man, with all his talents, never can or will do in any situation; he is base, cowardly, and unprincipled, and with all the execrable judgment which, I believe, often flows from the perversion of moral sentiment. Nobody can admire his genius, eloquence, variety and extent of information, and the charm of his society more than I do; but his faults are glaring, and the effects of them manifest to anybody who will compare his means and their results.
General Baudrand is come over with a letter from King Louis Philippe to King William. He saw the Duke and Aberdeen yesterday. Charles X. goes to Lulworth Castle. What are called moderate people are greatly alarmed at the aspect of affairs in France, but I think the law (which will be carried) of abolishing capital punishment in political cases is calculated to tranquillise men's minds everywhere, for it draws such a line between the old and the new Revolution. The Ministers will be tried and banished, but no blood spilt. Lord Anglesey went to see Charles X., and told him openly his opinion of his conduct. The King laid it all upon Polignac. The people of Paris wanted to send over a deputation to thank the English for their sympathy and assistance a sort of fraternising affair but the King would not permit it, which was wisely done, and it is a good thing to see that he can curb in some degree that spirit; this Vaudreuil told me last night. It would have given great offence and caused great alarm here.
Alvanley had a letter from Montrond yesterday from Paris. He was with M. Molé when a letter was brought him from Polignac, beginning, 'Mon cher Collegue,' and saying that he wrote to him to ask his advice what he had better do, that he should have liked to retire to his own estate, but it was too near Paris; that he should like to go into Alsace, and that he begged he would  arrange it for him, and in the meantime send him some boots, and shirts, and breeches.
The French King continues off Cowes, many people visiting him. They came off without clothes or preparation of any kind, so much so that Lady Grantham has been obliged to furnish Mesdames de Berri and d'Angoulême with everything; it seems they have plenty of money. The King says he and his son have retired from public life; and as to his grandson, he must wait the progress of events; that his conscience reproaches him with nothing.
The dinner in St. George's Hall on the King's birthday was the finest thing possible all good and hot, and served on the late King's gold plate. There were one hundred people at table. After dinner the King gave the Duke of Wellington's health, as it was the anniversary of Vimeiro; the Dukes of Cumberland and Gloucester turned their glasses down. I can't agree with Charles X. that it would be better to ' travailler pour son pain than to be King of England.'
I went yesterday all over Lambeth Palace, which has been nearly rebuilt by Blore, and admirably done; one of the best houses I ever saw. Archbishop Juxon's Hall has been converted into the library of the Palace, and is also a fine thing in its way. It is not to cost above £40,000. The Lollards' Tower, which is very curious, with its iron rings, and the names of the Lollards written on the walls, is not to be touched.
Went to Lady Glengall's to meet Marmont. He likes talking of his adventures, but he had done his Paris talk before I got there; however, he said a great deal about old campaigning and Buonaparte, which, as well as I recollect, I will put down.
As to the battle of Salamanca, he remarked that, without meaning to detract from the glory of the English arms, he was inferior in force there; our army was provided with everything, well paid, and the country favourable, his 'dénuée de tout,' without pay, in a hostile country; that all his provisions came from a great distance and under great escorts,  and his communications were kept up in the same way. Of Russia, he said that Buonaparte's army was destroyed by the time he got to Moscow, destroyed by famine; that there were two ways of making war, by slow degrees with magazines, or by rapid movements and reaching places where abundant means of supply and reorganisation were to be found, as he had done at Vienna and elsewhere, but in Russia supplies were not to be had. Napoleon had, however, pushed on with the same rapidity and destroyed his army. Marshal Davoust (I think, but am not sure) had a corps d'armée of 80,000 men, and reached Moscow with 15,000; the cavalry were 50,000 sabres, at Moscow they were 6,000. Somebody asked him if Napoleon's generals had not dissuaded him from going to Russia. Marmont said no; they liked it; but Napoleon ought to have stopped at Smolensk, made Poland independent, and levied 50,000 Cossacks, the Polish Cossacks being better than the Russian, who would have kept all his communications clear, and allowed the French army to repose, and then he would have done in two campaigns what he wished to accomplish in one; instead of which he never would deal with Poland liberally, but held back with ulterior views, and never got the Poles cordially with him. Of the campaign of 1813 he said that it was ill-conducted by Napoleon and full of faults; his creation of the army was wonderful, and the battle of Dresden would have been a great movement if he had not suddenly abandoned Vandamme after pushing him on to cut off the retreat of the Allies It was an immense fault to leave all the garrisons in the Prussian and Saxon fortresses. The campaign of 1814 was one of his most brilliant. He (Marmont) commanded a corps d'armée, and fought in most of the celebrated actions, but he never had 4,000 men; at Paris, which he said was 'the most honourable part of his whole career,' he had 7,500.  Napoleon committed a great fault in throwing himself into the rear as he did; he should have fallen back upon Paris, where his own presence would
 This assertion of Marmont's is the more curious, as it was to his alleged treachery that Napoleon when at Fontainebleau chose to ascribe his defeat.
 have been of vast importance, and sent Marmont into the rear with what troops he could collect. I repeated what the Duke of Wellington had once told me, that if the Emperor had continued the same plan, and fallen back on Paris, he would have obliged the Allies to retreat; and asked him what he thought. He rather agreed with this, but said the Emperor had conceived one of the most splendid pieces of strategy that ever had been devised, which failed by the disobedience of Eugene. He sent orders to Eugene to assemble his army, in which he had 35,000 French troops, to amuse the Austrians by a negotiation for the evacuation of Italy; to throw the Italian troops into Alessandria and Mantua; to destroy the other fortresses, and going by forced marches with his French troops, force the passage of Mont Cenis, collect the scattered corps d'armée of Augereau (who was near Lyons) and another French general, which would have made his force amount to above 60,000 men, and burst upon the rear of the Allies, so as to cut off all their communications. These orders he sent to Eugene, but Eugene 'rêvait d'être roi d'Italie après sa chute,' and he sent his aide-de-camp Tascher to excuse himself. The movement was not made, and the game was up. Lady Dudley Stewart was there, Lucien's daughter and Buonaparte's niece. Marmont was presented to her, and she heard him narrate all this; there is something very simple, striking, and soldierlike in his manner and appearance. He is going to Russia.
He was very communicative about events at Paris, lamented his own ill-luck, involved in the business against his wishes and feelings; he disapproved of Polignac and his measures, and had no notion the ordonnances were thought of. In the morning he was going to St. Germain for the day, when his aide-de-camp brought him the newspaper with the ordonnances il tomba de son haut. Soon after the Dauphin sent to him to desire that, as there might be some 'vitres cassées,' he would take the command of the troops. Directly after the thing began. He had 7,000 or 8,000 men; not a preparation had been made of any sort; they had never thought of resistance, had not consulted Marmont or any  military man; he soon found how hopeless the case was, and sent eight estafettes to the King one after another during the action to tell him so and implore him to stop while it was time. They never returned any answer. He then rode out to St. Cloud, where he implored the King to yield. It was not till after seven hours' pressing that he consented to name M. de Mortemart Minister, but would not withdraw the edicts. He says that up to Wednesday night they would have compromised and accepted M. de Mortemart and the suppression of the edicts, but the King still demurred. On Wednesday night he yielded, but then the communications were interrupted. That night the meeting at the Palais Royal took place, at which the King's fate was determined; and on Thursday morning, when his offers arrived, it was too late, and they would no longer treat. Marmont said he had been treated with the greatest ingratitude by the Court, and had taken leave of them for ever coldly of the King and Dauphin; the Duchess of Berri alone shook hands with him and thanked him for his services and fidelity. He says never man was so unlucky, that he was maréchal de quartier and could not refuse to serve, but he only acted on the defensive; 2,000 of the troops and 1,500 of the populace were killed. The Swiss did not behave well, but the Lanciers de la Garde beautifully, and all the troops were acting against their feelings and opinions. Marmont said that Stuart had sent Cradock to Charles X. to desire he would go as slowly as he could, to give time for a reaction which he expected would take place. Cradock did go to the King, but I rather doubt this story. 
 Colonel Cradock (the late Lord Howden) was sent by the Ambassador to the King, and had an audience at Rambouillet, but it was at the request and instigation of the Duke of Orleans. The proposal entrusted to Colonel Cradock was to the effect that the King and the Dauphin, having abdicated, should quit France with the Princesses, but that Henry V. should be proclaimed King under the regency of the Duke of Orleans. Louis Philippe offered to support this arrangement, and to carry on the Government as Regent, if Charles X. sanctioned it. The King received the communication in bed. The Duchess of Angoulême was consulted, and vehemently opposed the scheme, because, said she, speaking of the Orleans family, 'ils sont toujours les mêmes,' and she referred to the preposterous stories current at the time of the death of the Due de Bourgogne, and the regency of 1715. The offer was therefore rejected. These facts were not known to Mr. Greville at the time, nor till long afterwards, but they confirm his information that 'Cradock did go to the King.'
 August 27th.
At Court the day before yesterday; Parliament was prorogued and summoned. General Baudrand came afterwards and delivered his letter, also a private letter ' from the Duke of Orleans to the Duke of Clarence' as the French King called them, 'anciens amis.' He was well received and well satisfied. I never knew such a burst or indignation and contempt as Polignac's letter has caused a letter to the President of the Chamber of Peers. As Dudley says, it has saved history the trouble of crucifying that man, and speaks volumes about the recent events. Such a man to have been Prime Minister of France for a year!
Dined with Dudley the day before yesterday to meet Marmont, who is made very much of here by the few people who are left. He had been to Woolwich in the morning, where the Duke of Wellington had given orders that everything should be shown to him, and the honours handsomely done. He was very much gratified, and he found the man who had pointed the gun which wounded him at Salamanca, and who had since lost his own arm at Waterloo. Marmont shook hands with him and said, 'Ah, mon ami, chacun a son tour.' Lady Aldborough came in in the evening, and flew up to him with 'Ah, mon cher Maréchal, embrassez-moi;' and so after escaping the cannon's mouth at Paris, he was obliged to face Lady Aldborough's mouth here. This was my first dinner at Dudley's, brought about malgré lui by Lady Glengall. He has always disliked and never invited me, but now (to all appearance) we are friends. He said he had been to see an old man who lives near the world's end — Chelsea — who is 110 years old; he has a good head of hair, with no grey hairs in it; his health, faculties, and memory perfect; is Irish, and has not lived with greater temperance than other people. I sat next to Palmerston, and had a great deal of conversation with him, and from the tenour of his language infer that he has no  idea of joining Government. Agar Ellis assured me the other day that there was not a word of truth in the reported junction between Lord Grey and Huskisson. The Duke has got two months to make his arrangements, but I am afraid he is not prepared for all the sacrifices his position requires. It is now said that the exasperation against the late Ministers (particularly Polignac) is so great in France that it is doubtful whether they will be able to save their lives.
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