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1 1822 1822: Cain; conflict with Canning; plot to make Burdett the Whig leader; Isaac sent down from Oxford, but gets into Cambridge. Trip to Europe; the battlefield of Waterloo; journey down the Rhine; crossing the Alps; the Italian lakes; Milan; Castlereagh’s suicide; Genoa; with Byron at Pisa; Florence; Siena, Rome; Ferrara; Bologna; Venice; Congress of Verona; back across the Alps; Paris, Benjamin Constant. [Edited from B.L.Add.Mss. 56544/5/6/7.] Tuesday January 1st 1822: Left two horses at the White Horse, Southill (the sign of which, by the way, was painted by Gilpin),* took leave of the good Whitbread, and at one o’clock (about) rode my old horse to Welwyn. Then [I] mounted Tommy and rode to London, where I arrived a little after five. Put up at Douglas Kinnaird’s. Called in the evening on David Baillie, who has not been long returned from nearly a nine years’ tour – he was not at home. Wednesday January 2nd 1822: Walked about London. Called on Place, who congratulated me on my good looks. Dined at Douglas Kinnaird’s. Byng [was] with us – Baillie came in during the course of the evening. I think1 my old friend had a little reserve about him, and he gave a sharp answer or two to Byng, who good-naturedly asked him where he came from last – “From Calais!” said Baillie. He says he begins to find some of the warnings of age – deafness, and blindness, and weakness of teeth. I can match him in the first. This is rather premature for thirty-five years of age. Thursday January 3rd 1822: Walked about London. Dined at Douglas Kinnaird’s. Chantry, Chambers, Baillie of the party. We had a long discussion after dinner, which prevented us from going, as we intended, to the play. Chantry laid down his law respecting single figures in repose being preferable to groups in action. I think Baillie was too peremptory on the other side. We had, however, an agreeable evening on the whole. 1: “thing” (Ms.) 2 1822 Chantry does not think much of my bust of Lord Byron by Thorwaldsen,2 nor does he think much of Thorwaldsen – he prefers Canova infinitely. Friday January 4th 1822: After much thought I sent off a letter to Lord Byron3 in friendly terms but remonstrating with him on his conduct towards me about this Cain. I read the letter to Kinnaird and kept a copy of it. I called on Chantry and sat with him an hour. He told me some characteristic traits of Tooke and Burdett which had passed under his own notice. He said, “I always said of Burdett that he had a good heart, but wanted being told what was right”. Chantry blamed Burdett’s conduct about not burying Tooke in his garden.4 Burdett had highly approved of the plan in Tooke’s lifetime, and in Chantry’s presence had asked Tooke to have the vault made large enough for Burdett also. “No,” says Tooke, looking up sarcastically, “Nobody shall scratch with me!” I told Chantry that Burdett had given to me as a reason for not burying Tooke in his garden that no-one would buy the place. “Then,” said Chantry, “Burdett ought to have bought it himself – what was two or three thousand to him?” Chantry gave me a proof print of Tooke by R.Smith, and another of Burdett by the same – they were published by subscription. Tooke put his name down for twenty of Burdett, and Burdett for twenty of Tooke. When Smith sent the twenty to Burdett, Burdett sent them back, saying that his family did not care for that sort of thing. Tooke was much hurt, and was obliged to write a letter to Burdett on the subject, which done, Burdett took back the engravings. Now this was very inconsiderate, but Burdett’s mind is not framed so as to feel the impropriety of these trifling inattentions, and it is 2: This is the first reference in the surviving diary to the Thorwaldsen bust, for which B. sat at Venice in May 1817: the volume for that period is missing. 3: BB 320-3. There are numerous erasures recorded, and the text there may be H.’s copy, indicating that B. destroyed the primary text as he did that of the previous letter about Cain. B.’s reply, dated Jan 18, is at BLJ IX 88-9. In it he asks H. for news of the publication of VoJ, a work to which H. seems never to refer. 4: Tooke died at his Wimbledon home on August 18th 1812. He was to have been buried in his garden, beneath a black marble slab designed by Chantry, and with an oration by Burdett – but it was felt the grave would decrease the value of the property. 3 1822 possible that the very absence of some virtues is, in human composition, necessary for the formation of some other, and greater, qualities. Chantry told me that the funeral of Tooke was put off from time to time until they buried him at last in his family vault – at Ealing, I think: Chantry, who was prepared to attend had he been buried in the garden, would not sanction the infraction of Tooke’s wishes. Tooke used always to talk with the greatest scorn and dislike of “the fortune-tellers – the conjurers,” as he used to call the parsons. Tooke was at the point of death a year before he died. Chantry, not knowing his danger, called, bringing with him in a wagon the great slab to cover the garden vault. He wished not to be shown upstairs, but Tooke insisted upon his coming, and when Chantry awkwardly mentioned his having brought the slab, Tooke, then in agonies, was highly pleased. One of his daughters was reading the Times to him: when a paroxysm of pain came on he made a sign, and his daughter ceased reading. When he felt better he made another sign, and his daughter resumed. Chantry said that in conversation Tooke’s great art was saying strong things without shocking people’s feelings – although he was sometimes very virulent and abusive, and swore violently. Chantry told me that Tooke was very anxious to get him patrons from the Tories: “You can do nothing or little,” said Tooke, “to help us – your purpose should be to make your fortune, and live comfortably and reputably”. A favourite maxim of Tooke’s was not to omit doing a small kindness on account of any man’s insignificance – the odds are that every individual may have it in his power to hurt or help you once in seven years. Chantry told me that he found Tooke’s character gaining ground with the men on the ruling side – of these Chantry sees a great deal. Chantry’s bust of the King is finished. It is a fine thing, but the wig is a wig, as I told him. “Damn that wig,” said Chantry, “he had it upstairs.” He mentioned to me that the King had a very fine throat, without those dewlaps which he gives himself by tying up his neck-cloth so tightly. 4 1822 Chantry is modelling a statue of Lady Liverpool.5 Her favourite gown and bonnet had been sent to him for the purpose of helping him in his model. [I] believe Kinnaird and I dined at his home alone. Saturday January 5th 1822: This day went to Whitton, and had the delight of seeing all my dear sisters in health. There was a stranger in the room, so I could have but a cool greeting from these charming girls. I have not seen them for more than three months. Sunday January 6th 1822: At Whitton. Monday January 7th 1822: Rode up to London. Dined at Henry Shephard’s* – met Baillie and Cullen. Lady M.S. told me she was like Sardanapalus6 – she liked pleasure, but she would import as much as she felt!!! Tuesday January 8th 1822: Dined at Kinnaird’s. Wednesday January 9th 1822: Dined at Frederick Byng’s. Young Grenville,* two Mills,7 and Lord Alvanley* there – the latter very agreeable – he drank like a fish. He told me that Talleyrand, with whom he had been living at Vallancy, never spoke of Bonaparte except in terms of great respect. Talleyrand considered himself as ill-used, and therefore fairly entitled to do all he could to dethrone Bonaparte. Talleyrand told Alvanley that just before the campaign against Austria he came into the room where Napoleon was talking to the Russian ambassador in a fit of madness – stamping and jumping on the chairs, and performing other freaks. When the Russian ambassador went out of the room, Talleyrand asked Napoleon why he was in such transports of rage. Napoleon told him he had put on that mien8 to make the Russian write to his court and advise <them> it to keep to its neutrality. “I never was cooler in my life,” said Napoleon; “Tatez mon 5: The Prime Minister’s wife. 6: B.’s play had been published the previous month. 7: James Mill and the seventeen-year-old John Stuart Mill. 8: “mine” (Ms.) 5 1822 pouls” – “Which I did,” [said Talleyrand,] “and found the pulse quite as usual, which was very slow”. Alvanley told us that during the Queen’s trial he told the Lord Chancellor9 he had a project to stop the proceeding. The Lord Chancellor began to swear violently that the trial would kill him, and he wished it was stopped, one way or the other.

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