s, what will she not do when she
is older, and has to deal with Ministers whom she does not care
for, or whom she dislikes?

December 14th, 1839 {p.248}

I was at Oatlands a fortnight ago, where I met Croker--not
overbearing, and rather agreeable, though without having said
much that was peculiarly interesting. Two things struck me. He
said he dined and passed the evening _tete-a-tete_ with the Duke
of Wellington (then Sir Arthur Wellesley) before his departure
for Portugal to take the command of the army. He was then Irish
Secretary, and had committed to Croker's management the bills he
had to carry through Parliament. After dinner he was very
thoughtful, and did not speak. Croker said, 'Sir Arthur, you
don't talk; what is it you are thinking about?' He said, 'Of the
French. I have never seen them; they have beaten all Europe. I
think I shall beat them, but I can't help thinking about them.'

Another _tete-a-tete_ he had with the Duke was at the time of the
Reform Bill, when he went down with him for a week to
Strathfieldsaye, during which time he was more low-spirited and
silent than Croker said he ever saw him before or since. He
reproached himself for what he had done, particularly about
Catholic Emancipation, the repeal of the Test Act, and his
resignation in '30. Very curious this, not alluding among the
topics of self-reproach to his persevering and mischievous
opposition to the Emancipation, which he at length conceded in a
manner so fraught with future evil, however inevitable; nor to
his famous Anti-reform declaration, which, though containing
little if anything that was untrue, was so imprudent that its
effects were enormous and irretrievable. Such is the blindness,
the obstinate reluctance to the admission of error, which besets
even the wisest and the best men; for if the Duke of Wellington
could have divested his mind of prejudice, and reflected calmly
on the past, or looked over the political map of bygone events
with the practical sagacity he usually displayed, he never could
have failed to perceive the true causes of them. People often
take to themselves unmerited blame, to screen themselves from
that which they are conscious they deserve.

[Page Head: THE MAYOR OF NEWPORT AT COURT.]

On Monday last I went to Windsor for a Council. There we had Sir
Thomas Phillips, the Mayor of Newport, who came to be knighted.
They were going to knight him, and then dismiss him, but I
persuaded Normanby that