re will be a great deal of talking and
complaining, a great many half-measures suggested, but no
opposition, and that the Duke will do nothing, and get through
the session without much difficulty. There was to have been a
Council on Thursday to prick the sheriffs, but it was put off on
account of my gout, and I was not able to attend at the dinner at
the Chancellor's on Wednesday for the same reason. I remember
once before a Council was put off because I was at Egham for the
races; that was a Council in '27, I think, to admit foreign corn.

February 1st, 1830 {p.272}

Stapleton's book on Mr. Canning is not to appear. Douglas was
sent to him by Aberdeen to tell him that if anything appeared in
it which ought not to be published he would be turned out of his
office. He wrote to Lady Canning accordingly, who sent him a very
kind answer, desiring him by no means to expose himself to any
such danger, and consenting to the suppression of the work. I am
glad of it on all accounts.

February 3rd, 1830 {p.272}

Brougham has given up Lord Cleveland's borough, and comes in for
Knaresborough, at the Duke of Devonshire's invitation. He is
delighted at the exchange. I see by the 'Gazette' there has been
a compromise with the King about the Catholic sheriffs; only one
(Petre for Yorkshire) is chosen, the others, though first on the
list and no excuses, passed over: they were Townley for
Lancashire and Sir T. Stanley for Cheshire. It is childish and
ridiculous if so; but no matter, as the principle is admitted.

[Page Head: CHARACTER OF LORD BYRON]

I have just finished the first volume of Moore's 'Life of Byron.'
I don't think I like this style of biography, half-way between
ordinary narrative and self-delineation in the shape of letters,
diary, &c. Moore's part is agreeably and feelingly written, and
in a very different style from the 'Life of Sheridan'--no turgid
diction and brilliant antitheses. It is, however, very amusing;
the letters are exceedingly clever, full of wit, humour, and
point, abounding in illustration, imagination, and information,
but not the most agreeable sort of letters. They are joined
together by a succession of little essays upon his character. But
as to life, it is no life at all; it merely tells you that the
details of his life are not tellable, that they would be like
those of Tilly or Casanova, and so indecent, and compromise so
many people, that we must be content to look at his life through