Chapter I: Part 1

_J.X.Fabre. pinx._ _Emery Walker Ptr.sc._

_Henry Richard, third Lord Holland_

_1796_]

THE JOURNAL

OF

ELIZABETH LADY HOLLAND

(1791–1811)

EDITED BY
THE EARL OF ILCHESTER

_WITH PORTRAITS_

IN TWO VOLUMES

VOL. II. 1799–1811

LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.
39 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON
NEW YORK, BOMBAY, AND CALCUTTA
1908

All rights reserved

LIST OF PLATES

TO VOLUME II.

HENRY RICHARD, THIRD LORD HOLLAND, 1796 _Frontispiece_
_From a painting by F. X. Fabre._

HENRIETTA, THIRD COUNTESS OF BESSBOROUGH _To face p._ 96
_From a painting by Louis Gauffier._

JOHN, VISCOUNT BORINGDON (AFTERWARDS EARL OF
MORLEY), 1798 „ 190
_From a painting by J. Hoppner._

JOURNAL OF ELIZABETH

LADY HOLLAND

_26th July, 1799._--Left H. H. this morning to make a tour into Wales and the west of England. Ld. H. went to dine at St. Anne’s, and Drew, Charles, and myself came to this place (General Fitzpatrick’s, Sunninghill) to meet him. On Saturday, ye 27th, we arrived to dinner at Oxford. Close by the General’s, upon Ascot Heath, there is a camp. The cavalry were watered whilst we went on the road, a pretty incident; their brilliant coats contrasted with the dusky brown of the heath, and produced a very lively effect. A cross road to Henley; just as we entered the town we passed under Park Place, a late purchase of Ld. Malmesbury’s. Somewhere near Henley is the highest ground south of Trent. On ye 28th went from Oxford, by Chapel House, to Warwick. I could not help laughing at the _event_ of our going, because the subject of seeing the Castle without being obliged by urgent solicitations to make a long visit there (as Ld. H. was sure we should be very much pressed) had occupied his thoughts for many hours. Ld. H. had written letters to Ly. W. and Mrs. Smith, so calculated as to make a refusal of the pressing invitations (which he dreaded having) quite civil; but we need not have been embarrassed. So far from being solicited to stay, the whole family flew to their fortresses in some battlemented towers, gave out that they were walking, and shunned us. It was a most fortunate escape to me, tho’ I believe Ld. H. was vexed at the impertinence of the proceeding. The Castle is magnificent, decorated with ornaments appropriate to the building, and in the very best taste possible. His taste in virtu is better than in breeding, as he manifested a gross deficiency of that quality to us.

From thence we went across a very moderate road to Kenilworth; by the remains of the castle it appears to have far exceeded Warwick in splendour and extent.

On ye 29th we went through Birmingham. Having seen it last year we did not stop, but went straight on to the Leasowes, a spot rendered celebrated by Shenstone; it is very unworthy of the praise he bestowed upon it, and is now fallen into decay. About three miles further is Hagley; the park is very beautiful, the house simple. The comfortless taste prevalent in England of placing the house in a lawn where sheep and cattle feed close to the windows, instead of ornamental gardens, gives rather a disconsolate appearance to it; otherwise it is almost as desirable as a country residence (a bad thing at best) can be. It was built by the _good_ Ld. Lyttelton,[1] as he is generally called to distinguish him from his son, who, in contradistinction, is termed the _bad_. His much-loved wife, whom he celebrates under the name of Lucy, is buried in the church. It destroys the pathos excited by his elegy, if one recollects that within two years of her death he married a fat, vulgar, rich widow, for her wealth.

[Sidenote: IRON BRIDGES]

Went thro’ Bridgenorth, situated picturesquely upon the Severn, which, by-the-bye, is a yellow, muddy stream flowing with some rapidity, its only beauty. From thence we went to Coalbrookdale to sleep. There is the first iron bridge that was constructed; it is more curious from its novelty and use than beautiful. I deprecate their becoming general, as they are far inferior in point of beauty to those of stone; the dull black of the iron assorts ill with limpid streams and verdant banks, whereas on the contrary nothing can offer a more beautiful object than a stone bridge of well-turned arches. The inhabitants are chiefly quakers. During the American war they were offered a high gratification if they would cast cannon; they replied that they worked for the benefit of mankind, and not for their destruction, and peremptorily refused. It is an increasing place.

On Tuesday, 30th, got to Shrewsbury, a place for ever distinguished by the fall of the gallant Percy. One of the most admirable of Shakespeare’s plays commemorates this event. What can be better than the scene between the Triumvirate partitioning out the spoils of Britain, the impetuosity of Hotspur, and the arrogant credulity of Glendower? The crafty Worcester is a well-drawn character.

Passing Llanrwst, Conway, and Bangor they reached Carnarvon
on August 3rd.

_4th August. Sunday._--We left Carnarvon to go to Welsh Pool. From that place to Tan y Bwlch the road is over a high mountain. Snowdon in sight to our left.

Before Tan y Bwlch we came to Pont y Aberglassen, a remarkable salmon leap; Ld. H. screamed with delight at the sight of the salmons leaping up. It is a pretty sight. Myself, I could have looked at them with delight for an hour or two. At Tan y Bwlch, a small solitary inn, we found every room occupied. The Judges were there. The civility of some gentlemen enabled us to be under cover in a decent room whilst we dined, but the house was so full that we were compelled to go on nineteen miles at half-past seven, a mountainous road and a stormy night, to Dolgelly; I wonder how we achieved it amidst the torrents and precipices safely. The weather was so bad the next day that we saw nothing.

_6th August._--This morning, set off from M----; such a deluge of rain that we saw nothing to our right or left. To-night we are at Welsh Pool, so disgusted with the roads and climate that we have some thoughts of giving up doing Aberystwith. The beauties of Wales are very inferior both to those of Scotland and Cumberland. The mts. are not so lofty, the torrents are small and noiseless, no cascades: in short, the old castles are alone worthy of notice. The country generally is thinly inhabited; the postillions are chiefly boys, their men being either in the army or employed in the navy. The Evil visibly afflicts a large portion of the people.

On ye 7th of August we had a day very unusual; it did not rain. We drove to Powys Castle, which is about a mile from Welsh Pool. It is finely situated upon an eminence that commands the country around; the place is neglected and the house is rambling and comfortless. In the park is a fathomless pool, which gives name to the adjacent town. We were obliged to stay the whole of the 7th, as horses were not to be had. In the eve. Ld. H. and I had a very snug walk again to the castle.

[Sidenote: WELSH SCENERY]

On the 8th we set off for Aberystwith, and as the same horses were to carry us great part of the way we stopped to dine at Newtown, the road to which was extremely pleasing. Round hills covered to their summits with thick wood, and a verdant vale with pretty rivers and cattle grazing; it might have made a good study for quiet home views. We crossed a rapid river without a bridge.

_Tuesday, 13th._--Left Aberystwith. We intended originally to have gone to Cardigan, Haverfordwest, etc., but the judges were upon that circuit, the roads bad, and the weather wretched. On that night we slept at Lampeter, close upon a rapid river in which Ld. H. fished. The eve. was tolerably fine. Drew and I walked about the environs.

_14th._--It had rained all night, and the rivers were so swelled that they were deep to pass through; we went thro’ several and arrived at Carmarthen to dine. Very heavy rain the whole day. Poor little Charles was unwell, and we decided upon giving up Tenby.

On 15th heavy rain. After crossing ye Towy we looked back upon the town, which appeared prettily situated, but the weather was so bad it was impossible to see any object. The inhabitants were not surprised at the infamy of the weather; they said it was nothing unusual.

Finding no horses at Neath, we were compelled to remain. We walked to see the ruins of a small castle; the castle is not remarkable except for the beauty of its situation, and probably was raised by some of those Norman Barons who followed the fortunes of Fitzhamon, the conqueror of Glamorganshire. The inn is kept by an Italian, who, tho’ he left the happy climate in which he was born at nine years old, yet retains enough of national _tournure_ to be known amongst a multitude of red-faced ale-drinkers as an alien. There is an archness, not to say roguery, which, such as it is, is a thousand times better than the stupidity and sulkiness and _dubious honesty_ of the British countenance in common life.

On ye 17th we passed thro’ Margam, a possession of Mr. Talbot’s. There in his park are the beautiful remains of the Priory, about which I must look in Grove and Camden. He pulled down the mansion, but has built a magnificent greenhouse for the preservation of some orange-trees which belonged to William III.[2] The architecture is Grecian, which, close to a fine Gothic edifice, denotes more his adherence to the fashion of the times than his judgment in conceiving an appropriate decoration, as the two styles clash and diminish the beauty of both. Not that I am an enthusiastic admirer of Grecian architecture in any way but in a temple. There, indeed, the fine column, its slim shaft, rich architrave, cornice, and volute, surmounted with a graceful pediment, create a species of beauty which no other can. Indeed the circular arch, as in the Pont de Garde, where they form a bridge and aqueduct by several tiers one above the other, is very grand; otherwise, in vast works, I like the Gothic architecture, which, to use an affected phrase, is more _impressive_ in lofty structures. Mr. Talbot married a cousin of Ld. H.’s, a daughter of Lord Ilchester’s.[3] It was a strange match, she about sixteen, he sixty; as yet, however, the disproportion has not affected their felicity. They live happily; a good deal in the country.

[Sidenote: CARDIFF]

Arrived at Cardiff after dark. Received a note from Ly. Plymouth[4] to tell me she was there; came the next morning, 18th, to breakfast. She is scampering upon a blood horse, followed by an attorney, over her son’s estates, settling his affairs. She complains of having found everybody formerly employed rogues, from whence one may presume she has fallen into the hands of some very great one. The Castle is very handsome; in the area Ld. Bute has built a modern castellated house, preserving in the centre one or two of the old towers.

_19th._--Fortunately, a fine day. Dear Charles was so unwell that Drew wished him to have a day’s rest. Went over a very rough road to Tintern Abbey, a delicious ruin, situated upon the banks of the Wye. The church is almost entire; all the external walls are up and one of the side aisles; roof off, of course. The architecture is not so light and pleasing as Fountains Abbey, and of the monastery there are scarcely any remains. They show a tomb and effigy of a warrior whom they call Strongbow, Earl of Clare, who married Eva, the daughter of an Irish King, and became himself King of Leinster, and obtained for Henry II. the sovereignty of Ireland. In the eve. we had a charming walk upon the Wye and saw the castle, a fine ruin, celebrated for holding out against Cromwell, defended by Kemyss and Morgan. The former was cut to pieces in the inner court. Upon the Restoration one of the regicides was confined for 25 years in a chamber we saw. Southey wrote some pretty lines enough on him.

The party reached Ross on the 20th, having come through
Chepstow and Monmouth.

_21st._--Went to the churchyard, from whence there is a celebrated view, which, however, I think little of; the walk in it is shady and pretty. 21st, came through Hereford to Foxley. At Hereford D. of Norfolk insisted upon our giving him one day. 22nd, 23rd, stayed at Foxley. The General was there. 24th, went to Ld. Oxford’s[5] at Eywood. Charles unwell, and left at Foxley with Drew. 25th, stayed at Eywood. 26th, I returned alone to see Charles, and joined the whole party at Downton Castle, Mr. Knight’s,[6] in the eve. late. 27th, returned to Foxley. 28th, came to this place, Holme Court, the D. of Norfolk’s. Stayed yesterday, and go away to-day, 30th.

[Sidenote: LADY OXFORD]

Ly. O. has lost her vivacity and beauty. She is in a deplorable state of spirits, proceeding, I fancy, from an enthusiastic, romantic admiration of Sr. Francis’s ideal perfections. She fancies herself a victim of sensibility, and is really so drooping that I should scarcely be surprised if she perished from imagining grief. Mr. Knight encourages her in those _bursts_ of sensibility; he compares her tears to April showers that sprinkle and revive the freshness of the violet. Be the cause what it may, her beauty is impaired; her eyes, which were always full and prominent, now from thinness start out. It is also probable that her languor may arise from having lost the relish which the novelty gave of being a great lady. She appears from an affectation of _naïveté_ weaker than she is; in a whining, monotonous, childish tone she uses fine phrases for common conversation. She said to Ld. H. upon the Slave Trade, ‘I am always for justice and humanity, ar’n’t you?’ And to the General: ‘In case of a revolution, you, of course, would take the side of the people against the King, would not you?’ The house is comfortable, and they live with a degree of splendour they are unequal to, as he has ruined himself by his ostentation and her total ignorance of the value of money.

Mr. Knight wrote a famous work upon the traces still to be found in Italy of a primitive worship. He has assembled a large collection of these symbols in bronze, marble, etc. He is a passionate admirer of the ancients, and studies in nature antique forms and contours. Ly. Hamilton was his favourite; she absent, the admiration is transferred to Ly. O. He is a middle-aged man, and has a large fortune. His pursuits are classical even to pedantry. He has made a good house and fine grounds, and lives with a degree of luxurious _recherche_.

The Duke of Norfolk[7] is an extraordinary instance of the impossibility of _situation_ being sufficient to secure happiness: he, however, finds in his own good temper an antidote to all the vexations of his life. He has all that rank, dignity, and wealth can give; he married a beautiful woman whose person he liked, possessed of 15,000_l._ pr. anm. About eight years after she became mad, and from being intestate her immense possessions escheat to the Crown, there being no male heir to the Scudamores. It appears to be a hardship that the laws afford no relief to a person united to one insane, as no pretext can be more valid towards the dissolution of a marriage than an obstacle of that nature that impedes the fulfilling of every function belonging to the institution. He maintains with solid magnificence the splendour of his rank; everything about him bespeaks wealth and luxurious comfort. His servants are old domestics, fat, sleek, and happy; his table is profuse and exquisite. His taste is bad; he loves society, but has no selection, and swallows wine for quantity, not quality: he is gross in everything. The Dss.’s madness has taken a sombre, _farouche_ turn; she hates all mankind. The clergyman during a lucid interval advised her to read religious books, supplied her with some, and mingled his advice with pious exhortations. She acquiesced, and took the books. A few days after she returned them with scorn, saying, ‘I wish I could believe your d----d trumpery, as I should then be certain two-thirds of mankind would roast in H----! It was curious that in the Gospels she could find matter to gratify her malignity. The Duke behaves uncommonly well to her.

[Sidenote: DR. INGENHOUSZ]

Mrs. Clive, Ly. Plymouth’s sister, went there to meet me. She is a shrewd, sensible woman. Her husband is a Jacobin of the worst sort, envy actuating all his equalising principles.[8] Wm. Scott, Ly. O.’s brother, another Jacobin, was there: he is merry and good-humoured, and tho’ a zealous disciple of Horne Tooke’s a few good briefs to get him a _pied à terre_ will cure him of his democracy. I knew him many years ago at Nice. Capt. Morris,[9] the famous singer of his own witty songs, entertained us with some of them; he is drunken and dull, and since the death of a favourite son, has renounced singing any of his _light_ songs. He made a superstitious vow to God Almighty that he would not.

We slept at Gloucester on the 30th. On ye 31st passed through pretty Rodborough Vale, and Badminton Park, not a fine place, tho’ large, and arrived here, Bowood, 31st August, Saturday. Found Ld. Lansdown in high good humour and cordiality with me, and in very good health and spirits. The Smiths were just come from Warwick. Mr. Dumont is here, and two or three other indifferent people. Poor old Ingenhousz is dying rapidly. He is shrunk to a skeleton. Ld. L. with great humanity and feeling affords him an asylum, which his other friends were averse to, as the beholding of a dying man is a painful spectacle. He talks with intrepidity of death, but, _hélas!_ where can the courage come from? The subject is a painful one.

Dumont and I walked every morning, that is to say, the three I stayed, in ye garden: his conversation is always amusing and instructive. We talked over books that we each liked, especially Bonnet’s beautiful work, _Contemplation de la nature_, which contains many interesting expositions of the wonderful economy of nature in the structure of plants and animals. Had he not too frequently allowed his imagination to run off with him when he turns to the attributes of the divinity, he would tire less, but his apostrophes which aim at sublimity are generally incomprehensible and bombast.

Whilst I have been travelling I have not been idle in the way of reading; we have read already ye first seven volumes of Henry’s _History of England_. It is written upon a more extensive plan than that suggested by Voltaire and partly adopted by Hume.

Of public affairs the changes have been so varied and rapid that it is difficult to recollect the exact position of things. Bonaparte was repulsed from before Acre, and obliged to return with a diminished and dispirited army into Egypt. The circumstance the most humiliating is that his great name should be coupled with that of the bullying bluster of that charlatan, Sr. Sidney Smith, who has obtained the command of some marines and gun-boats against him in Syria. How fickle is the glory of a hero! That ‘... name at which mankind grew pale’ is now lost in obscurity, and the events in the East, which occupied and tortured the breast of every politician in Europe, are now so overlooked that barely are they discussed in the survey of politics at present.

[Sidenote: STATE OF NAPLES]

In Italy Suwarrow and ye Austrians have driven out the French; the Cis-Alpine district is returning to the dominion of its former possessors; dear, pretty Florence is restored to its mild sovereign. Lord Nelson has brought back the fugitive monarch to his capital, and Naples now exhibits a scene of revenge, more bloody than the Sicilian Vespers.[10] The hearts of Frenchmen are brought as trophies to a cruel people, who crouched in servile subjection whilst they were too abject to fight their own cause. Ly. Hamilton has not been remiss in adding her quota to the barbarity which enflames every breast. Rome is yet without its Pontiff, and for the happiness of a large portion of the natives of those happy climates it is to be hoped will for ever so remain, as no one can wish to see the restoration of a government founded upon the superstitions of mankind, and burthensome in itself.

An expedition into Holland for the restoration of the Stadtholder has just been undertaken.[11] It commenced ill; a fort was taken with the loss of some officers and five hundred men. Since that the Dutch fleet has surrendered, whether voluntarily or by the treachery of its officers is yet a secret. The Duke of York is to go and take the command. I don’t know how his presence will inspire courage to those troops he absconded with so hastily but a few years back. The expense is said to be so enormous that the income tax, which, by-ye-bye, has fallen short of the calculation, will go to take a fifth, instead of a tenth, of our incomes in future.

Left Bowood, Tuesday, ye 3rd; passed through a richly cultivated, well-built, and populous vale to Wincanton. Passed thro’ Longleat and Stourton; slept at the first town, and arrived here, Sherborne Castle, on Wednesday. It is an old Gothic mansion; the _corps de logis_ was built by Sir Walter Raleigh, who, if one may judge from oral tradition, seemed attached to the spot, as there is a venerable grove planted by his hand and honoured with his name. Upon his death his estates were confiscated, and granted by the narrow-minded pedant, who sacrificed to policy and intrigue his glorious life, to his infamous minion Somerset. Upon his fall they were bestowed upon the singular George Digby, Earl of Bristol,[12] whose adventures form some of the most diverting anecdotes in Clarendon’s history. It has since remained in the Digby family. On the opposite side of the lake are the ruins of the castle of Sherborne, held out by a lady of the family against the dismantling summons of Cromwell. The ground is classic; an eminence called Jerusalem Hill is crowned on the summit with a clump of firs planted by Pope. He was a frequent inmate, and the friend of an affectionate brother and sister, whose affection he has commemorated in an epitaph in Sherborne Church.

[Sidenote: LORD WESTMORELAND]

We found only Mr. Hoare with Ld. Digby, a brother of Sr. R. Hoare,[13] the owner of Stourhead, a handsome, gentlemanlike young man. The next day Ld. Westmoreland[14] came. He is coarse in mind, manners, and language. The first is overbearing and sanguinary; he appears to be one who thinks strong measures indicate a strong mind, and that vigour denotes intrepidity, whereas in my opinion the reverse is proved, for genuine fortitude inculcates clemency. His manners are those that spring from power engrafted upon a low education, and his language is a symbol of both. I do not wonder he is accused of having sowed the seeds of the late rebellion in Ireland; he seems of a character calculated to irritate wavering loyalty into rebellion. He spoke so brutally of some of the wretched prisoners who had escaped his fury, that my heart beat high with indignation, and even _I_ for a moment felt a movement in behalf of a nation I never liked.

There have been a few newcomers every day; Mr. Newbolt came over to see us. Yesterday Mr. Wingfield,[15] who married Ld. Digby’s sister, arrived. He is like Archibald Hamilton, who, by-the-bye, is now become Ld. A. H.,[16] in person, and unfortunately, in manner resembles Mr. Chaplin,[17] the same precise, deliberate way of speaking.

Since I have been here I have read a _Life of Voltaire_, written, I believe, by Condorcet. It proves what I was not at all aware of--that Voltaire was really persecuted for his freedom of opinions, and that a timely escape and concealment was necessary to save his liberty at different periods. Absurd and unjust as most of the attacks are against _philosophy_, as it is called, one must admit that those free principles and the spirit of investigation which pervades all Voltaire’s writings, tended very much to induce people to attempt eradicating prejudices and making reforms before they had well examined into the abuses or prepared a remedy against them. It is without an example in the records of mankind that a single man, unaided by the fanaticism of religious superstition, should have produced such a change in the sentiments of a large bulk of Europe as Voltaire did: one can scarcely say it has been for the better when the devastation of France is now before our eyes. Whatever mischief may have arisen from the freedom of discussion, I think many now living will outlive the practice, as there is an anti-conspiracy to that of which the philosophers are accused now making among the rich and powerful--one that, if pursued with the ardour I see many enter into it with, will inevitably be the ruin of all taste, literature, and civil liberty. The young men of fashion and birth are bit with a military mania; they all aim at attaining a martial air, and a reputation for strictness in their Militia discipline. Without reflecting much, they are persuaded a military force is necessary to keep the people down, and that as religion is co-existent with the State, so it is wise to support it even in its abuses. Fifty years hence I have no hesitation in foretelling that there will be little toleration, a curbed press, a great standing army, and what is called a _vigilant_ government.

[Sidenote: BOBUS SMITH]

Poor Doctor Ingenhousz is gone for ever; he died last week at Bowood. Ld. L., with his warm benevolence to those to whom he is attached, afforded him every friendly comfort to the last. He did not shun the sight of a dying man, altho’ at his time of life the spectacle is but painful to contemplate, as it brings to mind a crisis that to him cannot be very distant. Ingenhousz was a Dutchman by birth; he was first distinguished as an inoculator to the Imperial Court.

We stayed exactly a week at Sherborne; I passed my time agreeably and left it with regret. I did nothing the whole morning but float upon the water in a state of luxurious indolence. Ld. Digby told me he had heard that Ld. Ossory had asked the Chancellor for a Commissioner of Bankruptcy for Bobus.[18] I can believe it _now_, tho’ two years ago I was credulous enough to receive as sincere the fustian declamations upon independence, and that a lofty, aspiring mind would owe nothing to the influence of others; that it would extort reward by its sole merit, and that the only check upon his felicity in uniting himself to his antiquated wife was that her connections were great and powerful, which, to little minds, might be supposed operated as an inducement to the union.

Not, however, to speak fairly, do I think these motives actuated him: I truly believe he imagined he felt the _belle passion_. Be that as it may, I now think he is disposed to avail himself very readily of any advantage those connections can procure him, for his whole deportment recently demonstrates what is always said, ‘That no one despises situation and family, but those who have no claim nor chance of either.’ He reminds me of the old story of the opera contractor, Gallini, who captivated a lady of noble family, Lady Betty Germaine, and was astonished at hearing that his marriage with her did not ennoble him, and that he did not legally become what he styled himself, Ld. Betty Gallini. The alteration has not escaped the keenness of Dumont, who observes that after a visit to Warwick Castle he is more than usually inflated with dignity and a soaring spirit; he says the _Lord-erie_ of the coronets, escutcheons, towers, gateways, etc., at that place inspire him by anticipation with all the haughtiness he will feel when he fulfils the dignities he expects to acquire.

Fifty thousand years, if so many were allowed, would not efface from my mind the advice a man gave me about my poor little girl; he said, ‘Suppress her entirely; do not let her suffer in a pecuniary way. She is not injured, as she is ignorant of what she loses. Success for her is doubtful, and the misconstruction and chattering of the world against her is certain.’ These worldly maxims revolted my feelings, but convinced me he who could give them was made to thrive, and would not kick at that stumbling-block in the road to ambition which throws many off their course, called _genuine_ honesty, as there is a material difference in the essential properties of that quality. The one he will make use of will help him on. Depraved as men are in a corrupt state of things, they yet like the names of virtues as much as they abhor the practice. La Rochefoucauld says, ‘L’hypocrisie est un hommage que le vice rend à la vertu.’ I heard of Dr. Parr’s saying a thing to Mackintosh that was more coarse than witty, but yet it was pointed and quick. Mackintosh, in canvassing O’Coigly’s character, alluding to some transactions, said, ‘That was shabby; besides, his confession proved that he died with a lie in his mouth.’ ‘No, no, Jemmy, he was not shabby, because he was an Irishman and _not_ a Scotchman; he did _not_ die with a lie in his mouth, because he was a Catholic and _not_ a philosopher.’

Leaving Sherborne they went to Saltram by way of Honiton,
Exeter, Ashburton and Ivybridge.

[Sidenote: SALTRAM]

This house (Saltram, Ld. Boringdon’s) is quite the best I ever resided in. The apartments are numerous and excellent; they contain many pictures, and some very fine. It is an immense pile of building. The beauty of the view depends upon the tide, which when full is very pleasing, Mount Edgcombe, Plymouth, etc. Switzerland, Italy, the Tyrol, and Nice have rendered me difficult about picturesque and grand views, therefore I am less inclined to be enthusiastic than most people.

Living in a house built and liked by the great Raleigh[19] brought him more forcibly to my recollection. I turned over various histories to obtain all I could relating to him,--_State Trials_, _Biographia Britannica_, Gibbon’s _Memoirs_, Osborne’s detached remarks. I stayed at Saltram till the 22nd September. Ye time slipped away easily. Ld. Bor. was really happy at seeing us, and cordiality combined with goodheartedness and temper are such excellent ingredients in a character, that if there are any deficiencies they are overlooked. I had the misfortune--and a most severe, heartfelt one it was--to lose my faithful companion, my attached Pierrot.[20] He died! I loved him for his own merits, and was grateful for his devotion to me; indeed, I am convinced that he could not have survived my loss. Ld. H. made impromptu the following lines for his epitaph:--

Pierrot, of race, of form, of manners rare,
Envied alike in life and death lies here.
Living he proved the favourite of the fair,
And dying drew from beauty’s eye a tear.

He was the gift of Ld. Henry.[21] He faithfully maintained the love for me his master felt whilst living. Peace to them both!

I viewed the dockyard and Mt. Edgecombe from it; I was too timid to venture in a boat across the Hamoaze. Many people came to dinner; Colonels of the Militia Regiments quartered at Plymouth, the celebrated Tommy Onslow,[22] who was full of jokes and puns. Some are good; to me he was entertaining, as I did not know his stock, but that is slender, and they are often repeated. Seeing him but once or twice did not exhaust them. Sir John Frederick[23] is a mild, gentlemanlike man; he has the manners of a man of the world, pleasant conversation, and a fair portion of information. Colonel Montagu[24] I saw but once. Ld. Bor. announced him as a superior man, and I was therefore prepared for something remarkable, tho’ his praises are often queerly bestowed, frequently for the love of paradox, to surprise by admiring what others disapprove. However, Col. M. appears to be clever: he launched forth upon the topics he is _au fait_ of, and during a three-hours’ assemblage of people at and after dinner he gave the natural history of every bird that flies and every fish that swims. He is a man of bad temper, nor does it sound creditable to him that none of his officers speak to him, and they are upon the eve of bringing him to a Court-martial. He is separated from his wife, and might inherit an estate of his brother’s if he would be united to her; but the condition is too hard, and he renounces the possession of a benefit _so_ encumbered.

[Sidenote: DUKE OF SOMERSET]

The Duke of Somerset[25] came over and stayed at two different times. He would have liked to have made a longer visit, but his mother was arrived at Plymouth, and she is a jealous bigot. He possesses a plain understanding and a mind in a progressive state of improvement. He reads and reflects and judges for himself, mixed with great diffidence and caution. He has had no advantage from an intercourse with the world. He lives retired, and it is quite singular to observe the impression a common, sensible remark, which might be made by anybody, makes upon him; he looks at one, pauses, and exclaims ‘Very true!’ in a sincere way, that manifests that he is struck with the justness of the observation, and that he admires the sagacity of the person. I perceived this during the conversation I had with him, and the points that struck him were merely such as any person at all _au courant_ of common events would make, rather commonplace, tho’ true. His politics are just and temperate; his principles precisely those of a reflecting man, not actuated by any party motives, viewing things not men. He deprecates the inadvertencies of Opposition, as they have rendered themselves so obnoxious that they are dreaded in the country, and have been the means of throwing an unfounded popularity upon King and Ministers. He feels the necessity of abridging the power of the Crown, which he thinks has made rapid strides towards absolute, independent Monarchy. The first step to be taken, he thinks, is to obtain peace almost upon any terms, and the next to retrench the dangerous extension of prerogative this unfortunate war has given to the King. He has a taste for literature, rather free upon religious subjects, a great admirer of Gibbon--not his style, but his sentiments; many passages he knew by heart and repeated, tho’ from diffidence he could hardly finish a sentence, but that soon wore off. He seems well-read in polemics, knew the arguments urged on both sides in all the modern controversies, Parr, Travis, Curtis, Porson, Paley, Gisborne, etc. Upon the whole, I should be pleased to improve my knowledge of him. His brother[26] is a great mathematician and man of science. He would not come, but proposed solving an abstract problem with Mr. Playfair,[27] which had occupied him for some days.

[Sidenote: MR. DUGALD STUART]

On ye 25th we arrived here, Bowood, where we have found a numerous party. The Archbishop of Bordeaux,[28] a man who practises the piety and resignation his profession bids him teach. Tho’ fallen from a high dignity which he supported with honour, he has not been heard to utter an unavailing regret upon the past; he is truly respectable. His Grand Vicaire, L’Abbé Landrecelles, is also entitled to praise for his philosophy. Another Abbé, who is sensible, also was here. Indeed, the whole class of clergy have alone distinguished themselves by their conduct; they acted from principle, and are rewarded with universal esteem and respect. Mr. Dugald Stuart[29] and his wife, from Edinburgh, were here: he is reserved, and I did not hear him speak, but he is supposed deservedly to enjoy a high reputation. She is clever, well-informed, and pleasing.

I read Voltaire’s _Memoirs_, written by himself; I do not think any of his works abound with more genuine wit. The whole narrative of his connection with the King of Prussia is a _chef d’œuvre_, but tho’ he tells his own story, yet it is evident that he was in the wrong in their quarrel.

The Duke of York has met with a check in his attack on Alkmaer; he seems to have quarrelled with Abercromby,[30] as his official dispatch is silent in his praise. I fear the whole expedition will fail, and prove a useless waste of blood and treasure.

There is some perverse quality in the mind that seems to take an active pleasure in destroying the amusement it promises to itself. It never fails to baffle my expectations; so sure as I propose to my imagination an agreeable conversation with a person where past experience warrants the hope, so sure am I disappointed. I feel it perpetually, for example, with Dumont; with him I have passed very many cheerful hours. This knowledge tempts me to renew our walks, the consequence is we both yawn. I can only account for it from a mutual effort to revive the same topics, or that we both endeavour to infuse a liveliness equal to what we remember pervaded our past conversations; and where there is labour there is always failure. It is now got over; we have ascertained that we each vary in _agrément_, either from condition, weather, or other circumstances; and we have made up our minds to it, and are four times in five highly gratified. I am convinced there is a period in all intimacies where that feeling takes place. I am so persuaded of the impracticability of arranging, ‘_Now_ we will be pleasant,’ that I shun settling a meeting: chance does favourably what method would destroy. He possesses a fund quite inexhaustible of amusement, literature, anecdotes, lively observation, disquisition upon grave subjects; all this combined with a good heart and temper. He spends his leisure too much upon an occupation that I should doubt repaying him with fruit equal to the labour. He is translating and elucidating a metaphysical system upon legislation, jurisprudence, etc., of Bentham’s. His imagination appears better calculated to adorn the _belles lettres_ with just criticism than to define the Penal Code. But no person of abilities finds out exactly their excellence. Boccaccio despised the only work which makes him immortal. He never showed his friend Petrarch his _Decamerone_, tho’ upon second thoughts Petrarch must have known parts at least of the work, as he tells him in their letters he frequently reads _Griselda_, but never without shedding tears. Beautiful as the _Griselda_ is in ye Italian, I am almost disposed to prefer our Chaucer’s English version; there is a pathetic simplicity that touches the heart. The expressions are very natural where one can understand the language.

The day before we left Bowood Mr. Jekyll came. He is never so pleasant where Ld. L. is, as elsewhere; he aims at being the grave senator, and becomes pompous, didactic, and, with his merry little figure, one may add ridiculous.

[Sidenote: MR. FOX’S ACCIDENT]

On Tuesday we left Bowood. Our long conversations and disputes upon Stonehenge and the Druidical worship made us desirous of seeing that remarkable place: we therefore went by it to London. It is, to be sure, a most wonderful edifice, let it be raised by who it may. I shall transcribe great part of the description of its situation, etc., from Gough’s edition of Camden’s _Britannia_.

We arrived that night at Basingstoke, and arrived here on Wednesday. We found Ste. in perfect health and spirits; he is fat and ugly, but very merry and strong. His head is beautifully shaped; his ears are as pretty as his father’s; he will be darker than Charles. In the eve. Ld. H. went to see his uncle Mr. Fox, who was confined in town under the care of two surgeons. A gun burst in his hand and shattered his fingers. There was for some time a danger of his losing one of them. Hamilton came and stayed a night. There is a great perplexity in the family about his brother’s name, whether it is to be Douglas or Clydesdale.[31] The Chancellor has started the difficulty, but Scotch etiquettes are a _mer à boire_. The late Duke made no will, but left bonds to a great amount, for which his personal property must answer; thus the fine pictures at the Palace of Hamilton will go to the hammer. There is no danger of Ld. Stanley claiming the dukedom.

I went on Thursday to the play; General Fitzpatrick came with us. Sr. Lionel[32] dined with us on Saturday, and Hamilton. On Sunday, General Fox.[33] He is going immediately to Minorca, where he is appointed Governor. His wife is not to accompany him now; she imputes her not doing so to Sr. James St. Clair’s pompous dispatches, in which he announces the intention of the Spaniards to attack that place, a vapour to give himself importance.

_10th October, ’99._--On Monday last Ld. H. moved for leave to bring in an Address to his Majesty upon the Russian Treaties;[34] consequently the House is summoned, and to-morrow he is to bring it forward. He is extremely nervous, not having spoken in public for some months till the other two days last week. The Treaty for ye 17,000 men employed in Holland contains an article contrary to ye constitution: ‘His Majesty _engages_, in case the troops should be compelled to leave Holland at a season when the Baltic is frozen over, that they shall pass ye winter in England.’ This article is a direct violation of the laws, and without precedent. He means to introduce at the same time a wish that measures may be taken to manifest a desire of peace.

[Sidenote: EXPEDITION TO HOLLAND]

Alkmaer is taken with a great loss of men; the details are not yet come. Tierney was here this morning in a sort of perplexity at a suspicion of Nepean’s,[35] the Under-Secretary of State. It seems that in a private letter from General Coote to Sr. Charles Grey[36] the _truth_ is told of the conduct of the Russians, who absolutely refused to advance, throwing themselves flat on their bellies and declaring they would not stir. This letter Tierney saw, and it was known to Nepean that he had seen it. Combining that with Ld. H.’s motion to-morrow, they feared this circumstance would be made public, and Sr. C. Grey came to town this morning, in a fright, to explain matters. The fact is, Ld. H. knew nothing of the affair till to-day, and at Tierney’s request from Sr. C. G. of course will not make any use of the knowledge.

_11th October, ’99._--On Wednesday, 9th October, Ld. King[37] passed the day and dined. He is young and handsome. His political principles are strongly anti-Government; his liking to Ld. H. makes him act with him, tho’ his opinion disposes him to exceed the limits Opposition have drawn to themselves; _pour trancher le mot_, he is what is called a Jacobin. His dislike to what is established is more against the Church than to the State: he quite abhors the Christian religion. He has a considerable share of information in theology, metaphysics, and political economy. Seeing him but once sociably, I cannot accurately estimate his worth. He is a most affectionate, excellent son. He came to town on purpose to second Ld. H. to-night. Tho’ he is not a remarkable speaker, yet he is stout, and Ld. H. expects to find a consolation in having him; as any person who is warm on the same side must be a relief from the _agony_ of a solitary opposition. Yesterday I had a visit from a strange man, a Dr. Hager;[38] he was employed by ye King of Naples to detect a literary fraud in Sicily. One of the impostures was a supposed Arabic translation of all the works of Livy containing the lost books: this curiosity he discovered to be an ingenious fabrication. The other was some grants to the Church during the period where there is a hiatus in ye Sicilian history. His head is crammed full of metaphysics and erudition, to the total exclusion of every particle of common sense. I could perceive _rays_ of _illumination_ about him, when he talked of his admiration of truth and the necessity among enlightened people to substitute a moral catechism for _that_ built upon the credulity and superstition of mankind. His _generous spirit_ of converting those misled by error, alias religion, will involve him in scrapes should he not be wiser before he publishes in this country, as I suspect it has done already in Germany. He is one of Ld. Wycombe’s strange men; he picked him up in Sicily.

[Sidenote: LORD AMHERST]

Amherst came; I complimented him upon his speech. He seconded the Address.[39] He was sure to do it with propriety, therefore a congratulation was safe; as he is as certain of not exposing as he is of not distinguishing himself. He has a good heart, with a narrow mind; of all the young men he is the most _borné_ in point of intellect. Nature seems to have determined upon confining him within _proprieties_. He was born to be a courtier, to live upon the terrace at Windsor, and wear the uniform; beyond that he will never get, unless Canning may want a _tête-de-perruque_ to fill up a gap in any motley Administration he may have the forming of hereafter.

Tierney spent the whole morn.; I am very happy to discover that he has dropped the folly that made him tiresome and ridiculous this summer. To-day Mr. Grey came to assist Ld. H. in some calculations and in drawing up the Address; he is very pleasing when at his ease. We laughed over Tierney’s unsteadiness; one day his determination to make motions upon every great question, the next his _abattement_ and timidity. Grey told a good answer of Mr. Beddinfield’s to Dundas. A few years ago the mob attacked ye King’s carriage and were going to commit some violence. Mr. B. was in the park; he immediately pulled out a pistol, and dispelled the rioters. The next day Dundas asked him what he would have bestowed upon him as token of favour. He said, ‘I wish only, Sir, that you would make me a Scotchman.’

He read the surgeon’s letter giving an account of his brother’s wound; the ball went through the knee, and was extracted from the hollow ham within. It seems to have been an escape. Grey was going over to see him, unless this good report had come.

_Sunday, October 13th, ’99._--Ld. H. made a motion for peace. He was satisfied with himself, especially in his reply to Ld. Grenville. From his account I should fear that, tho’ it was able, it was too personal.

On that very night came the news of the strange reverse the Allies have experienced, 19,000 Austrians and Russians captured and slaughtered, Zurich retaken, and many other places in Switzerland; Hotze, the Austrian General, killed;[40] Suwarrow had crossed the St. Gothard to relieve that army, and when they were defeated he was advancing to assist. Ld. Macartney has just brought me the further news, which is that the cruel, bloody Suwarrow is totally defeated and probably taken prisoner. The monster who in cold blood cut the throats of women and children in Warsaw and the suburbs, and who exceeded his orders to make them more barbarous at Ismail, will not excite my pity even under the most rigorous captivity. There let him groan. The day of retribution ought to be in this life, to convince one that punishment is not withheld to a dubious period. These famous Russians, who have been so puffed since they have been subsidised, turn out to be the only fit food for powder, as nowhere do they fight; in Italy all the glory of the expulsion of the French from thence is due to the brave Austrians. Thus has this mighty horde of barbarians dwindled to a handful of tattered, ill-disciplined, worse-officered, half-starved savages.

[Sidenote: PARIS FASHIONS]

Ld. Macartney was present at the debate; he said Ld. H.’s reply was excellent, that it proved him to have very superior abilities, but he altogether disapproves so much of the line he has taken that he cannot be hearty in any praise.

Bonaparte has gained a great victory at Aboukir;[41] the tower is defended, but must fall. It is supposed Sr. Sidney Smith is in it. When he is Bonaparte’s prisoner it is to be hoped he will assist him to correct his narrative of the affair of Acre, as Sr. Sidney’s rhodomontades do not accord much with probability. It was an unnatural state of things that Bonaparte should have for a moment such a buskin hero for a competitor; whilst he was eclipsed, one might say:--

An eagle tow’ring in its height of pride
Was by a mousing owl hawk’d at, and killed.

I went yesterday morning to see a milliner who is just arrived from Paris; she brings strange dresses and fashions, and some sumptuous, costly to a degree that she cannot get a purchaser. She complains that a Deputy’s wife at Paris spends more upon her attire than a duchess does here. She has veils that cost 50 guineas, morning head-dresses 20, and so on in proportion. She says Paris never was yet at such a pitch of luxury and _recherche_ in dress as at present.

_Saturday, 19th._--On Sunday last Mr. and Mrs. Stuart and Dr. Hager dined here. On Monday we went to the play with the Stuarts. On Tuesday Ld. Macartney, Calonne, James, and the Fish dined, very tolerably pleasant. On Wednesday I went to see Mr. James’s pretty room and fine books; he has given in to the luxury of splendid editions, broad paper, and sumptuous bindings. The collection is as complete as possible for the sort of thing, but the expense is enormous, and hardly answers in point of enjoyment, tho’ one is not sorry to see fine specimens of the various arts of printing, papermaking, bookbinding, etc., etc. He has contrived to spend 5000_l._ upon articles that lie in a very small compass.

The Bessboroughs, who have just returned from ye Isle of Thanet, dined with us; they brought Ld. Boringdon. There was besides Mr. Wm. Smith,[42] an Irish orator, who made a fine speech and wrote a good pamphlet in favour of the Union. He is uncommonly bashful, an infirmity not peculiar to his nation, but one which impedes his being reckoned as able as he is to common observers.

The whole Dutch expedition has failed, and the troops are coming back forthwith, tho’ there are great apprehensions entertained as to their being able to withdraw without immense loss; they calculate upon losing their rearguard of 3000 men.[43] Out of evil there is good: Lds. Morpeth and G. Leveson had offered their services, and were upon the point of going. Ld. G. is raising a regiment, and is appointed Lt.-Col. I am sorry he throws away very excellent abilities upon a profession where so little is required--at least, as it is practised in this country; and I believe as a good patriot one ought to hope it may for ever remain as insignificant as it has done hitherto. Parliament is adjourned until January. We went to the play, Tierney, Mr. Hoare, and Capt. Murray. Confirmation of the French accounts of the losses of the Allies in Switzerland, etc., etc.

[Sidenote: PRICE OF SUGAR]

_Sunday, 20th, ’99._--The whole day I was confined to my own den by a most villainous cold. After we had finished our dinner Ld. Morpeth came to dine. He arrived in town only the preceding evening.

The immense price of sugar has defeated the avarice of the proprietors of it; various experiments have been made, first, to extract sugar from saccharine vegetables, and then to grow it in different climates. In Prussia they obtain 8 lbs. weight of good sugar from 100 lbs. of beet root. In America a settlement called the Notches, above the river Ohio, has grown a large quantity from the sugar cane. The price is only kept up by some commercial artifice winked at by the Government. The revenues of the West Indians will be considerably diminished, and tho’ I ultimately may suffer I confess I should feel very little sorrow if they had been at 0 for the last four years; then _he_ would not have added another example to the many--that injustice thrives.