statesman. In 1808, Napoleon invaded Spain. His purpose was, to make
Spain the basis of an invasion of England. No act of the French Emperor
exhibited more of the mingled subtlety and ferocity of his nature; and
yet it should be remembered, for the benefit of mankind, that no act
more distinctly exhibited the rashness with which avarice or power
overlooks obstacles, and the folly with which the desire of entrapping
others frequently outwits itself. Napoleon already, through the weakness
of the king and the treachery of his minister, had all the resources of
Spain at his disposal. But, not content with the reality, he resolved to
arrogate the title; and he thus eventually lost the Peninsula. Under the
pretext of settling the disputes of the royal family, the Emperor, in
1808, marched ninety thousand men into Spain, obtained possession of its
principal fortresses, and established a garrison in the capital. The
Spanish nation, always disdaining a foreign master, and yet accustomed
to foreign influence, was roused by the massacre of Madrid on the 2d of
May. Every province rose in arms, elected a governing body, and attacked
the French. On the 6th of June 1808, Joseph Bonaparte was appointed King
of Spain and the Indies.--On the same day, the Supreme Junta at Seville
proclaimed war against France! Deputations from the provinces were sent
to England, and they were answered by the dispatch of an army, under Sir
Arthur Wellesley, to the coast of Portugal. The British general then
commenced that series of victories which finished only in the
capitulation of Paris, and the downfall of Napoleon.
On the 21st of August Sir Arthur Wellesley beat the French army of
Portugal at Vimeira, and would have inevitably forced the French marshal
to capitulate on the field, but for the singular and unfortunate blunder
by which two officers, superior in rank, had been inadvertently sent to
join the expedition, by whom he was of course superseded; General
Burrard arriving during the action, though he did not take the command
until the day was over; and General Dalrymple arriving within a few
days, to supersede General Burrard. The consequence was, that the whole
operation was paralysed, and the French army, instead of being
extinguished on the field, was allowed by a convention to retire from
the country. Sir John Moore then, superseding them all, took the
command. In the mean time, Austria had renewed the war, and been
defeated in the decisive battle of Wagram. Napoleon now threw the whole
force of France upon the Peninsula.
It was obvious that Spain was the field in which the great battle of
Europe was now to be fought; but the inefficiency of public men in
Spain, and the divisions of the provincial governments, rendered it
necessary that some superintending mind should be sent to conduct the
national affairs. Early in 1809, Mr Canning, then secretary for foreign
affairs, received the royal commands to propose the appointment of
ambassador-extraordinary to the Marquess Wellesley. On the 1st of April,
Sir Arthur Wellesley was appointed commander of the British forces in
the Peninsula. The Marquess arrived in Cadiz on the 4th of July, four
days after the battle of Talavera.
The first year of the Spanish campaign was, in one sense of the word,
disastrous. Sir Arthur Wellesley, after fighting the desperate battle of
Talavera, was forced to retire into Portugal, through the neglect of the
Spanish government to supply his troops with the means of subsistence.
They were actually starved out of the field. The Spanish armies had now
been utterly broken; the great expedition of Walcheren had terminated in
the capture of a fishing town, and the loss of some thousand men by the
marsh fever. At this period, Spain seemed utterly helpless; Austria had
been forced into peace; Russia was on the closest terms of alliance with
France; and in England the two cabinet ministers, Lord Castlereagh and
Mr Canning, had fought a duel with each other. The cabinet was now
broken up, and reconstructed, the three secretaries of state being, the
Marquess of Wellesley for foreign affairs, Lord Liverpool for the
colonies, and the Hon. R. Ryder for the home department; Mr Perceval,
first lord of the treasury and prime minister.
In the year 1810, on the invasion of Portugal by Marshal Massena at the
head of eighty thousand men, while Wellington had but thirty thousand,
the declaimers of Opposition had produced so depressing an effect on
public opinion, that a cabinet despatch actually left it to the decision
of the British general, then Lord Wellington, whether the army should
remain or return to England! On that occasion, the British general
returned the following gallant and decisive answer:--"From what I have
seen of the objects of the French government, and the sacrifices they
make to accomplish them, I have no doubt, that if the British army were
for any reason withdrawn from the Peninsula, and the French government
were relieved from the pressure of military operations on the Continent,
they would incur all risks to land an army in his Majesty's dominions.
Then, indeed, would commence an expensive contest, then would his
Majesty's subjects discover what are the miseries of war, of which, by
the blessing of God, they have hitherto had no knowledge; and the
cultivation, the beauty, and the prosperity of the country, and the
virtue and happiness of its inhabitants, would be destroyed, whatever
might be the results of military operations. God forbid that I should be
a witness, much less an actor, in the scene! And I only hope that the
King's government will consider well what I have stated to your
lordship; will ascertain, as it is in their power, the actual expenses
of employing a certain number of men in this country, beyond that of
employing them at home or elsewhere; and will keep up their force here
on such a footing, as will, at all events, ensure their possession,
without keeping the transports; if it does not enable their commander to
take advantage of events, and assume the offensive." This letter decided
the fate of the Peninsula. Massena was driven out of Portugal before the
close of the year, and the question of French conquest was at an end!
In 1811, the Marquess Wellesley retired from the cabinet. He had
expressed opinions on the abilities of Mr Perceval, which rendered it
necessary that either one or other should resign. The nominal cause of
difference was the Roman Catholic question; on which Perceval was as
well-informed and principled, as the Marquess was ignorant and fanciful;
his chief argument being, that the Protestant Church in Ireland was
feeble--an argument which should have led him to look for the remedy in
giving it additional strength. But the only view which reasoners like
the Marquess have ever taken on the subject is, the force of
numbers--"The Roman Catholics are three times as numerous as the
Protestants." An argument which would have been equally valid against
the original attempt to spread Christianity among the heathen nations,
and would be equally valid still, for Paganism is still more populous
than Christendom. In fact, the argument would be equally valid against
any attempt whatever to enlighten mankind; for the ignorant are always
the overwhelming majority. The true enquiry would have been, are the
opinions of the Roman Catholics consistent with a Protestant throne? is
their divided allegiance perilous or not to a Protestant government? are
their religious prejudices consistent with the rights of the national
religion? We have now the melancholy proof of the shallowness of all the
declamation on the subject. We see that power has been used only for
public disturbance; that pledges are scoffed at; and that, in the
fifteenth year of this boasted conciliation, Ireland is more turbulent,
faction more violent, prejudice more envenomed, and life more in hazard
than ever.
The unfortunate death of Mr Perceval by the hand of a half-frantic
ruffian, who was resolved to shoot one of the ministry, and in whose
way the prime minister unhappily came, threw open the cabinet once more.
A long negotiation followed, in which Lords Wellesley and Moira having
failed to form an administration, Lord Liverpool was finally appointed
premier, and retained power until 1827; a period of fifteen years, when
he was struck by apoplexy, and died in December of the following year.
The policy towards Ireland was now sinking into that feeble and flexible
shape, which has always characterised the predominance of Whig councils.
The Marquess Wellesley had made some showy speeches on emancipation; and
in 1822, and as if with the object of showing him the utter vanity of
attempting to reform the bitterness of Popish faction by any measures of
concession, the Popish advocate was sent to govern Ireland. He found the
country in a state of the most frightful disturbance; half a century of
weak and unstatesmanlike compliances had produced their natural effect,
in party arrogance; and demands and conspiracy at once threw the
ministry into confusion, and set the law at defiance. But the Marquess
was received with national cordiality by the people. The city was
illuminated on his arrival; the different public bodies gave him
banquets; and, known as his opinions were on the Popish question, the
Protestants forgot his prejudices in the recollection that he was an
Irishman. But there was a faction still to be dealt with, which, having
no real connexion with the substantial interests of the country, and
living wholly on public credulity, uttered its ominous voice in the
midst of all those acclamations. A paper from that faction lost no time
in "reminding the Irish Catholics of the tantalizing and bitter
repetition of expectations raised only to be blasted, and prospects of
success opened to close on them in utter darkness;" finishing by a
significant warning, "not to rely too much on the liberal intentions of
the Marquess Wellesley."
The result of his lordship's government may be easily told. His personal
favours to the Papists were received in the usual style of instalments;
while the Protestant corporation stood aloof, and drank with renewed
potations "the glorious and immortal memory of William III." Such is the
dignity of politics in Irish deliberations. At length the unlucky
conciliator had his eyes opened by the nature of things, and was
compelled to apply to parliament for the insurrection act. The
Attorney-general Plunket, the ablest advocate of the Papists, was
compelled, by a similar necessity, to write a long official letter, in
which he stated--"That he feared in five or six counties, great numbers
indeed of the lower classes had been involved in the conspiracy; some of
them from a love of enterprise and ready disposition for mischief; some
of them on a principle of counteraction to associations of an opposite
description; but most of them, he should hope, from terror on the one
hand, and the _expectation of impunity_ on the other." There was the
point, which no man comprehended better in theory than this clever
law-officer, and none better in practice than the Popish peasant. "This
_expectation_, however," he observes, "must now be effectually removed,
and the terror of the law, I trust, be substituted in place of the
terror of the conspirators." Adding, "your Excellency will observe with
regret, that the association has been founded on a principle of
_religious exclusion!_"
Such had been the fruit of concession. The opposite plan, so often
suggested, and so essentially necessary, was then tried; and its fruits
too followed. Almost the whole of Ireland became instantly
tranquillized; men were no longer murdered in open day; cattle no longer
maimed; houses no longer burned. The Marquess thus writes the English
government:--"During the summer and autumn of 1822, the measures
sanctioned by Parliament for the restoration of tranquillity, combined
with other causes, have produced such a degree of quiet, that no
necessity existed for my _usual_ communications."
We pass rapidly over the contemptible squabbles of the party mobs which
fill up the modern history of Irish politics, and which must have deeply
disgusted a statesman who had seen public life on the stately scale of
Indian government and English administration. But he was now far
advanced in years, and he was betrayed into the absurdity of suffering
these squabbles to reach to himself. The decoration of the statue of
William the Third, in one of the principal streets of the city, on his
birthday, the 4th of November, had been an annual custom for upwards of
a hundred years. But now the Papists resolved to regard the placing of a
few knots of orange riband on this equestrian figure as a matter of
personal offence, and prohibited the decoration. A patrol of horse
surrounded the statue, and the decoration could not be accomplished. A
letter from the secretary approved of the conduct of the civic
authorities. Unluckily, within a few days after, the Marquess went in
state to the theatre. The public disapprobation now vented itself in
unmeasured terms. The uproar was incessant, and, in the height of the
disturbance, a bottle was thrown by some drunken ruffian from the
gallery into the viceregal box, but with so direct an aim, that it
glanced close to the Marquess's head. A watchman's rattle, and several
other missiles, were said to have followed the bottle. The unlucky
result was, an indictment against several individuals for conspiracy by
the Attorney-general; but the grand jury having ignored the bills, the
case fell to the ground.
At this period, the Marquess, who had in early life married a
Frenchwoman, fixed his regards on an American, the widow of Mr Patterson
of America. In matters of this order public opinion can have no direct
right to interfere. But the bride was a Roman Catholic. The marriage was
solemnized by a Romish bishop, as well as by the Irish primate. The
royal equipages were seen in regular attendance, subsequently, at her
ladyship's place of worship; and, when the critical balance of public
opinion at that period is considered, there was evidently more of the
ardour of the lover than the wisdom of the statesman, in suffering that
marriage to take place, at least _before_ his retirement from the
viceroyalty of Ireland.
On the formation of the Wellington cabinet, the illustrious brothers
differing on the Romish question, the Marquess retired. In the debate on
that occasion, the Duke of Wellington made one of those strong,
_declaratory_ speeches and renewed those pledges to the Protestant
constitution in Church and State, which he made so solemnly before. The
duke, after gracefully expressing his regret at being compelled to
differ on the sentiments of his distinguished relative, said, "I wish,
as much as my noble relation can do, to see this question brought to an
amicable conclusion, although I do not see the means of bringing it to
that conclusion by this resolution, (Lord Lansdowne's motion on the
Catholic claims.) I _agree with_ the noble and learned Earl (Eldon) who
has recently addressed your lordships, that we ought to see _clear and
distinct securities_ given to the state, before we can give our vote in
the affirmative of the question. My noble relative says, that our
security will be found in the removal of the securities which now exist.
I say, that the securities which we now enjoy, and which for a length of
time we have enjoyed, are _indispensable to the safety of Church and
State!_ I should be glad to see the disabilities of the Roman Catholics
removed; but before I can consent to their removal, I must see something
in their stead which will _effectually protect our institutions_."
Yet, within one twelvemonth! the Popish Bill was carried by the
Wellington ministry! Its immediate result was, to introduce into the
legislature a party whose aid to the Whigs carried the Reform Bill. The
Reform Bill, in its turn, introduced into influence a party who demand
implicit obedience from every minister, and whose declared object, at
this hour, is the abolition of the whole system of commercial,
manufacturing, and agricultural laws, under which England has become the
greatest commercial, manufacturing, and agricultural country in the
world. All power now threatens to fall into the hands of the populace;
and, if that result shall follow, England will be revolutionized. With
all our knowledge of the strength of England, of the vigour of educated
opinion, of the gallant principle existing among our nobles and
gentlemen, and, above all, of the religious integrity of a large portion
of the empire, we still cannot disguise our apprehension of general
change. The ferocity, recklessness, and insatiability of the democratic
spirit, have been hitherto withheld from the sight of our fortunate
country, by the vigour of our government and the wisdom of our laws. But
they exist; they lie immediately under the surface of the soil; and,
once suffered to be opened to the light, the old pestilence will rise,
and poison the political atmosphere.
The agriculture of England is the true treasury of England. We may exist
with diminished manufactures, and we must prepare for their diminution,
from the universal determination of other countries to manufacture for
themselves. But we cannot exist without food; and, from the moment when
the discouragement of tillage shall leave England in necessity, we shall
see the cheap corn of Russia and Poland taxed by the monarch, raised to
a famine price, all the current gold of the country sent to purchase
subsistence in Russia, and our only resource a paper currency, followed
with an enormous increase of expense in every common necessary of life.
Throw a fourth of the land of England out of cultivation, and what must
become of the labourers? They now complain of low wages; then they will
have none. What must be the condition of Ireland, wholly agricultural,
and ruined by a flood of foreign corn, at half the price for which the
Irish farmer can bring it to market? These consequences are so
notorious, that nobody attempts to dispute them. They are coolly taken
as inevitable things; and the whole dependence, even of the mob
advocates, is upon chance: "Oh, something will turn up! Things won't be
so bad as you think!"
But the true conspirators see deeper. They know, that a revolution in
the food of the people is the immediate forerunner of a revolution in
the state. From the moment when foreign corn is admitted free of
restraint, the confidence of the farmer must be shaken. From the farmer,
the shock will instantly reach the landlord; his rent must be
diminished. To one-half of the great proprietaries of the kingdom, a
diminution of rent, even by a third, would make their possessors
personally bankrupt. Their mortgages and loans must be repaid; and
nothing would remain. The landlord now pays the Church. If he is ruined,
the whole Church income, independent of the small portions of glebe
land, must perish with him.
Then will come the agitation for a still more daring purpose. It will be
asked why must the system of English life be artificial?--Because we
have twenty-eight millions sterling of interest to pay, and for this we
must have taxes. But, why not sweep the national debt away, as France
did in her day of royal overthrow? A single sitting of the Convention
settled that question. Why not follow the example? Then will come the
desperate expedient, and all will be ruin on the heads of the most
helpless of the community; for the national debt is only a saving bank
on a larger scale, and nine-tenths of its creditors are of the most
struggling order of the empire.
Of course, we do not anticipate this frightful catastrophe under the
existing government, nor, perhaps, under its immediate successors, nor
under any government which knows its duty. But, let the "pressure from
without" be once an acknowledged principle; let agitation be once
suffered as a legitimate instrument of public appeal; let the clamour of
the streets be once received with the slightest respect, and the game is
begun; property is the chase, the hounds are in full cry, and the prey
will be torn down.
We believe that the majority of the empire are honest and true, but we
know that faction is active and unscrupulous; we believe that there is
in the country a genuine regard for the constitution, but we know that
there are men within the circumference of England, whose nature is as
foul as that of the blackest revolutionist of France in 1793; whose
craving for possession is treacherous and tigerish, whose means are
intrinsic and unadulterated mischief, whose element is public
disturbance, and whose feverish hope of possession is in general
overthrow. Against those we can have no defence but in the vigour, the
caution, and the sincerity of the national administration.
The Marquess Wellesley, on the formation of Lord Grey's cabinet in 1830,
accepted the office of Lord Steward. He had begun his political life as
a high Tory, and the friend and follower of Pitt.--In 1793, he had
fought boldly against the Reform question. This was at the period when
he retained the generosity of youth, and the classic impressions of his
university; but he had now been trained to courts, and he became a
reformer, with a white rod in his aged hand! In 1833, he was
re-appointed to the government of Ireland; he returned full of the same
innocent conceptions which had once fashioned Ireland into a political
Arcadia. But he was soon and similarly reduced to the level of
realities. He found confusion worse confounded, and was compelled to
exert all his power to suppress "agitation," and exert it in vain; a
Coercion Bill alone pioneered his way, a quarrel in which the Irish
Secretary was involved with the Agitator, produced the resignation of
the secretary, Littleton, though the Marquess's son-in-law.--Lord Grey,
like Saturn, rebelled against by his own progeny and overthrown by the
impulse of Reform, resigned, (July 9, 1834.) The Whig government fell
within the year, and the Marquess left Ireland. In England he
condescended to accept the office of Lord Chamberlain; but, within a
month, retired altogether from public life. It was full time: he was now
seventy-five.
The East India Company, in 1837, voted him L20,000, and in 1841
honourably proposed to place his statue in the India House. His
remaining years were unchequered. He died in Kingston House, Brompton,
on the 26th of September 1842, in his eighty-third year.
The Marquess Wellesley, on the whole view of his qualifications, was an
accomplished man; and, on a glance at his career, will be seen to have
been singularly favoured by fortune. Coming forward at a period of great
public interest, surrounded by the most eminent public men of the last
hundred years, and early associated with Pitt, the greatest of them all;
he enjoyed the highest advantages of example, intellectual exercise, and
public excitement, until he was placed in the government of India.
There, the career of every governor has exactly that portion of
difficulties which gives an administrator a claim on public applause;
with that assurance of success which stimulates the feeblest to
exertion. All our Indian wars have finished by the overthrow of the
enemy, the possession of territory, and the increase of British
power--with the single exception of the Affghan war, an expedition
wholly beyond the natural limits of our policy, and as rashly undertaken
as it was rashly carried on. The Marquess returned to Europe loaded with
honours, conspicuous in the public eye, and in the vigour of life. No
man had a fairer prospect of assuming the very highest position in the
national councils. He had the taste and sumptuousness which would have
made him popular with the first rank of nobility, the literature which
gratified the learned and intelligent, the practical experience of
public life which qualified him for the conduct of cabinets and
councils, and the gallantry and spirit which made him a favourite with
general society. He had, above all, a tower of strength in the talents
of his illustrious brother. Those two men might have naturally guided
the councils of an empire. That a man so gifted, so public, and so
ambitious of eminent distinction, should ever have been the subordinate
of the Liverpools, the Cannings, or the Greys, would be wholly
incomprehensible, but for one reason.