I heard from Arbuthnot this morning that the Duke has set his face resolutely against any Bill in the House of Lords to settle the Privilege question; and that Lyndhurst, though not so strong in his opinion as the Duke, is resolved to abide by his determination, and to go with him. The Duke, in fact, goes as far as any of the opponents of the Privilege, for he not only thinks that the dicta of the Judges are not to be questioned, but that the House of Commons ought not to have the Privilege at all--that is, that their papers ought not to be sold, and that they ought not to be circulated without anything being previously weeded out of them which the law would consider libellous. This strong opinion of his renders the question exceedingly difficult and embarrassing, for it was become very clear that nothing but the intervention of the House of Lords could untie so ravelled a knot. All the Tories are in a state of mingled rage and despair at the impetuosity with which Peel has plunged into this matter, and at the irretrievable manner in which he has identified himself with Lord John Russell upon it. Stanley and Graham have always voted with him, but have never once opened their lips, from which it is sufficiently clear that they don't go nearly so far as he does, and now Graham is acting as a sort of mediator and negotiator, to try and effect some compromise or arrangement, but the case seems nearly hopeless. Peel, on the other hand, is evidently as much annoyed and provoked with his party as his party with him. The other day, Arbuthnot, Peel, and Graham met at Apsley House, and talked upon every subject, Arbuthnot told me, but that of Privilege, on which none of them touched--a pretty clear proof how tender the ground is become. The Tory press has grown very violent, and treats Peel with no more forbearance for his conduct on this question than the Whig and Radical did John Russell for his speech about Church rates; so rabid and unscrupulous are all Ultras of whatever opinion. I told Melbourne how matters stood, at which he seemed mightily disconcerted. February 25th, 1840 {p.271} Yesterday I saw the Duke of Wellington, whom I had not seen for above six months, except for a moment at the Council just after his first illness. He looked better than I expected--very thin, and his clothes hanging about him, but strong on his legs, and his head erect. The great alteration I remarked was in his voice, which was hollow, though loud, and his utterance, which, though not indistinct, was very slow. He is certainly now only a ruin. He is gone to receive the Judges at Strathfieldsaye, and he will go on again when he comes back to town, and hold on while he can. It is his desire to die with the harness on his back, and he cannot endure the notion of retirement and care of his life, which is only valuable to him while he can exert it in active pursuits. I doubt if he could live in retirement and inactivity-- the life of a valetudinarian.