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 it would be a wise and popular thing to keep him there and load him with civilities--do good to the Queen, encourage others to do their duty--and send him back rejoicing to his province, to spread far and wide the fame of his gracious reception. He said, that etiquette would not permit one of his rank in life to be invited to the Royal table. I said, that this was all nonsense: if he was good enough to come and be knighted, he was good enough to dine there, and that it was a little outlay for a large return. He was convinced; spoke to Melbourne, who settled it, and Phillips stayed. Nothing could answer better, everybody approved of it, and the man behaved as if his whole life had been spent in Courts, perfectly at his ease without rudeness or forwardness, quiet, unobtrusive, but with complete self-possession, and a _nil admirari_ manner which had something distinguished in it. The Queen was very civil to him, and he was delighted. The next morning he went to Normanby, and expressed his apprehension that he might not have conducted himself as he ought, together with his grateful sense of his reception; but the apology was quite needless.[12]