ent fellow, but
of indefatigable industry and a man who suits Melbourne. His taste
is not delicate enough to be shocked at the coarseness, while his
indolence is accommodated by the industry, of his secretary. Then
Young[5] knows many people, many places, and many things; nobody
knows whence he comes or what is his origin, but he was a purser
in the navy, and made himself useful to the Duke of Devonshire
when he went to Russia, who recommended him to Melbourne. He was a
writer and runner for the newspapers, and has always been an
active citizen, struggling and striving to get on in the world,
and probably with no inconsiderable dexterity. I know nothing of
his honesty, for or against it; he seems good-humoured, but vulgar
and familiar. Ben Stanley and I were talking about public men, and
agreed that by far the ablest, and at the same time the most
unscrupulous, of them are Brougham and O'Connell, and that the
latter is probably on the whole the most devoid of principle.
Their characters and adventures would be worthy of a Plutarch.

[5] [Tom Young was commonly known as 'Ubiquity Young,'
because you saw him in every place you might happen to
go to.]

September 5th, 1834 {p.126}

[Page Head: HOLLAND HOUSE.]

At Holland House yesterday, where I had not been these two years.
Met Lord Holland at Court, who made me go. The last time I was
with my Lady she was so mighty uncivil that I left off my visits,
and then we met again as if there had been no interruption, and
as if we had been living together constantly. Spring Rice and his
son, Melbourne, and Palmerston dined there; Allen was at Dulwich,
but came in the evening, and so did Bobus Smith. There was a
great deal of very good talk, anecdotes, literary criticism, and
what not, some of which would be worth remembering, though hardly
sufficiently striking to be put down, unless as forming a portion
of a whole course of conversations of this description. A vast
depression came over my spirits, though I was amused, and I don't
suppose I uttered a dozen words. It is certainly true that the
atmosphere of Holland House is often oppressive, but that was not
it; it was a painful consciousness of my own deficiencies and of
my incapacity to take a fair share in conversation of this
description. I felt as if a language was spoken before me which I
understood, but not enough to talk in it myself. There was
nothing discussed of which I was altogether ig