George IV.
Regent And King.
(1815-1830).
Peace was established in Europe. It had cost France great anguish
and great grief. The Duke Richelieu, who had concluded it, and
whose personal influence over the Emperor Alexander had
powerfully contributed to soften its conditions, expressed the
sentiment of all France when he wrote to his sister, Madame
Montcalm, "All is consummated. More dead than alive, I have
affixed my name to that fatal treaty. I had sworn not to do it,
and I had said it to the king. The unhappy prince conjured me,
breaking into tears, not to abandon him. I no longer hesitated. I
have the confidence to believe that no one else could have
obtained as much. France, expiring under the weight of the
calamities which overwhelm her, claims imperiously a prompt
deliverance."
England again breathed: triumphant, but weighed down by her long
efforts. The state of the public finances and the monetary
situation occupied all minds, and served as a theme for the
attacks of the opposition against Lord Liverpool and Lord
Castlereagh. A certain inquietude manifested itself also upon the
subject of the secret conditions of the peace. Henry Brougham, a
young advocate of great talent, in a speech upon this question,
demanded the publication of the Treaty, half mystical, half
absolute, known under the name of the Holy Alliance, and signed
at Paris on the 20th of November, 1815, by the Emperors of Russia
and Austria, as well as by the King of Prussia.
{443}
"In his capacity as constitutional sovereign, the Prince Regent
was not competent to affix his signature to this treaty,
concluded by the sovereigns themselves," said Lord Castlereagh;
"England has therefore no right to call for its publication." The
Houses gave themselves the noble pleasure of rewarding the valor
of their generals and their armies. Monuments were erected to the
memory of those who had fallen in the war. The pensions formerly
accorded to the Duke of Wellington were doubled; he received from
the just gratitude of his country five hundred thousand pounds
sterling. It is to the honor of the English nation that no
absolute monarch was ever more liberal toward his favorites than
it has shown itself in regard to its great servants.
England, as well as all Europe, had founded great expectations
upon the re-establishment of peace. She had assured security to
the commerce of the Mediterranean, by an expedition against the
Dey of Algiers, nominal sovereign of the hordes of pirates
constantly infesting that sea, to the great peril of merchant
vessels. Lord Exmouth had bombarded Algiers, destroyed the
vessels of the pirates, and obtained the liberation of all the
Christian slaves. But this new achievement was not sufficient to
re-awaken commerce, overwhelmed by numerous and repeated losses.
The harvest had been bad; to the actual and pressing evils was
added the bitterness of ignorant hopes cruelly deceived. Popular
movements manifested themselves in many places; the Regent was
insulted as he came from Westminster, after having opened
Parliament (January 28th, 1817). The government was informed of a
vast conspiracy that threatened "to fire the four corners," of
Great Britain. Energetic measures were adopted; the suspension of
the habeas corpus act was prolonged; a new law imposed the most
severe penalties upon seditious re-unions. The forces intended
for the maintenance of order in the interior, were increased to
ten thousand men. The nation was still agitated and suffering,
after the long trial of a war energetically carried on during
twenty years, and was weary and overburdened, in spite of the
victory.
{444}
Before the delights of peace had calmed the spirits and
re-assured all minds, before all hearts had lost the habit of
suffering and resisting suffering, it required an effort on the
part of the nation, as of the individual, to enjoy the charms of
repose.
An unforseen event deeply moved public feeling. Princess
Charlotte, heiress to the throne, loved and esteemed by all, and
upon whom reposed those loyal sympathies (of which her father was
justly deprived), had just died at Claremont, on the 6th of
November, 1816, in giving birth to her first child.
All England shared in the grief of her young husband, Prince
Leopold of Saxe-Cobourg. He was destined subsequently to be the
first to ascend the throne of Belgium, assisted thereto by new
family ties that he contracted in France, as well as by the
affection still cherished for him in England. He was sagacious
enough to make use of both these influences for the good of his
adopted country, as well as a beneficial influence in the
counsels of European politics. On the 29th of May, 1819, less
than two years after the death of Princess Charlotte, the
Princess Victoria, daughter of the Duke of Kent, was born at
London. Some months later the old King George III. died (January
28th 1820); blind and insane during the last ten years of his
life. Patient and quiet in his madness, he preserved in the
hearts of his people a respectful and melancholy popularity which
showed itself at the time of his death. Honest and obstinate,
seriously and sincerely religious, observant of his duties both
as man and as king, as he understood them, he had often served
and often hindered the policy and the government of his country;
he had always loved it, and had always believed himself obligated
to consecrate to it his life and his strength, to the prejudice
of his tastes or personal desires. During these ten years, in the
long silence of his sad isolation, he had exhausted all anger and
extinguished all hatred. The nation remembered only his simple
and honest virtues, his immovable courage and his patriotic
disinterestedness. No illusion regarding the abilities and faults
of his successor was possible.
[Image]
George IV.
{445}
For ten years already George IV. had satisfactorily occupied the
throne, when he was officially proclaimed king on the 31st of
January, 1820.
The fruits of evil are bitter even for those who plant them.
Unhappily married, as he deserved to be, after the disorderly
life he had led, the new monarch had for a long time cherished
towards his wife an aversion amounting to hatred. He addressed to
her the gravest reproaches. Upon his accession to the throne, the
princess was upon the continent. Orders were given to erase her
name from the liturgy of the established church, and to omit the
public prayers for the Queen, as her husband had decided never to
recognize her. The natural courage of the princess and the
indignation of the woman, wounded in her honor, brought Queen
Caroline immediately back to England, proudly resolved to submit
her cause to public opinion.
"I wrote to Lord Liverpool and Lord Castlereagh, to demand the
insertion of my name in the liturgy of the Church of England,"
declared the queen, "at the same time that the order was given to
all the ambassadors, ministers and English consuls to recognize
me and to treat me as Queen of England. After the address of Lord
Castlereagh in reply to that of Mr. Brougham, I have no other
insult to fear. I demand that a palace be prepared for my
reception. I fly toward England, which is my true country."
{446}
All the generous sentiments of the English nation, as well as its
contempt for the character and habits of its sovereign, were
shown in the ardent and sympathetic reception which greeted the
arrival of Queen Caroline on the sixth of June, 1820.
"They have erased her name from the liturgy," said her faithful
and honest counsellor, Mr. Denham, "but all England prays for her
in praying for those who are desolate and oppressed."
In the midst of her popular triumph, all attempts at compromise
were rejected by the queen, notwithstanding the advice of her
eminent advisors, Brougham and Denham. The king demanded a
divorce, which his ministers refused to second; public excitement
was increasing; for a moment some regiments of infantry seemed to
waver in their fidelity. Political maneuvres increased the
agitation; the leaders of the radical opposition espoused the
cause of the queen; she addressed a petition to the House of
Lords, demanding the authority to defend herself. The government
finally took the initiative, with regret, and constrained by the
violence of royal and popular passions, Lord Liverpool presented
to Parliament his Bill of Pains and Penalties, formally accusing
Queen Caroline of conjugal infidelity, and demanding a divorce,
in the name of King George IV.
The venerable Lord Eldon remarked with judicious sagacity, before
the arrival of Caroline: "Our queen threatens to come to England;
if she ventures here, she is the most courageous woman I have
ever heard of. The evil she will do by coming will be
incalculable. At the outset she will be immensely popular with
the multitude; I give her only a few weeks, or at the most, a few
months, to lose the opinion of the entire world."
{447}
It was a sad and unheard of spectacle to see a sovereign publicly
arraigning his wife before the supreme tribunal. A great
multitude besieged the environs of Westminster, insulting those
ministers and peers that they knew were opposed to the accused
queen, and saluting her defenders with acclamations. Popular
passion had judged well the doubts and uncertainties which
enveloped the principal facts and the formal accusations; it
closed its eyes, however, to the license of life and language
which the corrupt and contradictory testimony of foreigners
reluctantly revealed.
The burning eloquence and the wonderful management of Brougham
carried the enthusiasm of the multitude to the highest pitch. In
summing up the evidence, he said: "Such, my Lords, is the case
now before you, and such is the evidence by which it is attempted
to be upheld. It is evidence--inadequate, to prove any
proposition; impotent, to deprive the lowest subject of any civil
right; ridiculous, to establish the least offence; scandalous, to
support a charge of the highest nature; monstrous, to ruin the
honor of the Queen of England. My Lords, I call upon you to
pause. You stand on the brink of a precipice. If your judgment
shall go out against your queen, it will be the only act that
ever went out without effecting its purpose; it will return to
you upon your own heads. Save the country--save yourselves.
Rescue the country; save the people of whom you are the
ornaments; but severed from whom, you can no more live than the
blossom that is severed from the root and tree on which it grows.
Save the country, therefore, that you may continue to adorn
it--save the crown, which is threatened with irreparable
injury--save the aristocracy, which is surrounded with
danger--save the altar, which is no longer safe when its kindred
throne is shaken.
{448}
You see that when the Church and the throne would allow of no
church solemnity in behalf of the queen, the heartfelt prayers of
the people rose to Heaven for her protection. I pray Heaven for
her; and I here pour forth my fervent supplications to the throne
of mercy, that mercies may descend on the people of this country,
richer than their rulers have deserved, and that your hearts may
be turned to justice."
So much eloquence and oratorical passion, together with the
intense earnestness of public opinion, had, as might be expected,
a great effect upon the House of Lords. The majority in favor of
the bill, which at first was quite considerable, diminished day
by day. On the third reading, it was but nine. Lord Liverpool
rose and said, that, in the presence of a majority so small, he
did not think it advisable to continue the discussion. On the
10th of November, 1820, the bill was withdrawn, to the intense
delight of the people. Catherine of Brunswick had gained her
cause; she remained the wife of George IV. and Queen of England.
It was one of those triumphs, which cost so dear to the victors,
and which accelerates their fall. In passing through the crowded
streets about Westminster, Lord Mulgrave was threatened by the
multitude, who demanded that he should join in the cry: "Long
live the queen!" He turned towards the populace and said, "Very
well, long live the queen, and all you women that resemble her."
Something of this bitter sarcasm began to penetrate slowly into
the minds of the people, but lately carried away, without
reflection, in the defence of a wife outraged by him who had set
her so fatal an example. The resolution shown by the ministers in
the conduct of their painful task, and the perils they had
braved, led to a sincere reaction in their favor.
{449}
A diabolical plot that has been called "the Cato street
conspiracy"--after the name of the street where its principal
author, Arthur Thistlewood, resided, had threatened the lives of
all the members of the cabinet; they were to be assassinated
_en masse_, in the dining-room of Lord Harrowby, in
Grosvenor Square. The plot was discovered, and the conspirators
suffered the penalty of their crime on the 1st of May, 1820.
Almost at the same moment grave disorders broke out in Scotland
and the north of England. The energy of their repression equalled
the violence of the attempts. The honest mass of the nation rose
as one man against those misguided wretches that threatened to
annihilate social order. "Among those who are here," said Sir
Walter Scott, in a public meeting at Edinburgh, "there are
persons who are able, by uniting their forces, to raise an army
of fifty thousand men."
Notwithstanding that the government of George IV. had shared in
the great unpopularity of the sovereign, it finally regained the
favor of the nation. The majority which sustained it in
Parliament became each day more decided and more united. "In six
months the king will be the most popular man in the realm," said
Lord Castlereagh, with a just and disdainful appreciation of the
violence of popular reaction.
When on the 19th of July, 1821, Queen Caroline appeared at the
doors of Westminster Abbey, in an open carriage drawn by six
horses, claiming her right to witness the coronation of the king,
admission into the church was peremptorily refused. Fearing an
outbreak of the passions so recently excited in her favor, the
display of military force was great; but few of the populace
saluted her. She withdrew, wounded to the death in her pride and
in her resentment.
{450}
Fifteen days later she expired. She had directed that her body
should be taken back to her native country and deposited in the
tomb of her ancestors, with this inscription: "Here lies Caroline
of Brunswick, the injured Queen of England." For a moment only
public sentiment was re-awakened in favor of the queen. The
funeral escort, which accompanied the remains to the port of
embarkation, had been ordered to avoid the streets of London; a
mob, however, compelled the procession to proceed through the
city. Two men were killed. A distinguished officer, Sir Robert
Wilson, severely reprimanded the soldiers for having fired upon
the people. He was cashiered, and the magistrate who had yielded
to the demands of the mob, in changing the route, was dismissed.
Queen Caroline was forgotten, and her royal spouse was in Ireland
receiving the enthusiastic homage of a people who had not for
long years enjoyed the honor of a royal visit. "My heart has
always been Irish," said George IV., addressing the multitude
which crowded around the Viceroy's palace; "from the day it first
beat, I have loved Ireland. Rank, station, honors are nothing;
but to feel that I live in the hearts of my Irish subjects is to
me the most exalted happiness." A similar reception awaited
George IV. in his Electorate of Hanover.
In the midst of this triumph of their party, the ministers, more
sincerely and more rigidly Tory than Pitt had ever been, yet
realized the need of energetic and effectual support. Since his
accession to office. Lord Sidmouth had cleverly and sagaciously
directed internal affairs, but he now was old and worn out. Mr.
Peel, Secretary for Ireland since 1812, brilliantly replaced him.
A certain number of moderate Whigs allied themselves to the
government, without however changing either its attitude or its
complexion.
{451}
Superficial minds are astonished at this long continued power of
the Tories. Peace and pacific governments were established in
Europe; the perils within and without which had threatened
England no longer existed. The causes which had permitted them to
hold the reins of power so firmly, were removed or greatly
diminished: it seemed that that power ought to be relaxed; but
the effects long survived the causes; if the Tory government was
not indispensable at this time, the Tory party at least was the
victorious and dominant party, everywhere possessing the
preponderance, and powerfully organized to preserve it. The
relations of England with the absolute monarchies of the
continent, were of the most cordial character. Her counsellors
had contracted during the severe trials of the coalition those
lines of thought, of interest, and of habit which create common
interests and common success; her external policy weighed upon
her internal policy; and Lord Castlereagh was more inclined to
assimilate with the Prince Metternich than to distinguish
himself. Unhappily for the new-born spirit of liberty, the
revolutionary spirit also reappeared, spreading its virus in
public institutions as well as in individual hearts, alarming
everywhere the governments. During the first twelve years of the
peace, England found her government more alarmed, more immovable,
more inaccessible to all reform and all liberal innovation, than
it had been in the midst of the war, during her greatest
struggles and greatest dangers.
The contest between the government and the opposition had begun.
The Whigs were ardent partisans of reform, in principle as well
as from political ambition, always shrewd and sagacious to
advance or to serve popular needs and desires. A famine in
Ireland and the deplorable scenes which accompanied the
sufferings of the people, drew universal attention to the violent
relations which existed between the Catholics and the
Protestants. In vain had the Marquis of Wellesly as Lord
Lieutenant of Ireland, exercised a prudent and energetic
impartiality; he only succeeded in alienating the Orangemen
without conciliating the Patriots.
{452}
Mr. Canning presented to the House a proposition for the
admission of the Catholic Peers to Parliament; "but yesterday,"
said he, "at the august ceremony of the coronation, after being
exhibited to the peers and people of England, to the
representatives of princes and nations of the world, the Duke of
Norfolk, highest in rank among the peers--the Lord Clifford, and
others like him, representing a long line of illustrious and
heroic ancestors,--appeared as if they had been called forth and
furnished for the occasion, like the lustres and banners that
flamed and glittered in the scene; and were to be, like them,
thrown by as useless and temporary formalities; they might indeed
bend the knee, and kiss the hand; they might bear the train, or
rear the canopy; they might perform the offices assigned by Roman
pride to their barbarian forefathers,--_Purpurea tollant aulœa
Brittanni_: but with the pageantry of the hour their
importance faded away: as their distinction vanished, their
humiliation returned; and he who headed the procession of peers
to-day, could not sit among them, as their equal, on the morrow."
For some time past Mr. Peel had assumed the leadership of the
opposition on the question of Catholic emancipation; he had
conducted the same with a moderation for which Mr. Plunkett, one
of the most eloquent and ardent partisans of the measure, thanked
him in flattering terms: "I know no man in the state that will
probably have more influence upon this question; and there is no
man whose adhesion to what I would call prejudices without
foundation, would be able to do more evil to my country," said
he.
{453}
Notwithstanding the lively opposition of Peel, the proposition of
Mr. Canning was adopted by the House of Commons. The cabinet was
divided. Lord Castlereagh, become Marquis of Londonderry since
the death of his father, remained favorable to the liberal
measures in favor of the Catholics; the House of Lords rejected
the motion, not however without leaving to its partisans the
legitimate hope of the approaching success of their just cause.
A first effort of Lord John Russell, in favor of Parliamentary
reform, vigorously opposed by Mr. Canning, was rejected by the
House of Commons, but by a smaller majority; and after a
discussion more favorable than the ardent promoters of the
measure had perhaps expected. The last words of the address of
Mr. Canning already predicted that success that he so greatly
feared. "I conjure the noble Lord," he said, "to pause, before he
again presses his plan on the country: if, however, he shall
persevere, and if his perseverance shall be successful, and if
the results of that success be such as I cannot help
apprehending;--his be the triumph to have precipitated those
results; mine be the consolation that to the utmost and to the
latest of my power, I have opposed them."
King George IV. returned to Edinburgh; he had journeyed through
Scotland from castle to castle, charming all he met, by the grace
of his manner and the agreeableness of his conversation, even
those who had not attributed to him either political courage or
private virtue. He was suddenly recalled to London by a tragic
event; as Sir Samuel Romilly and Mr. Whitbread, some years
before. Lord Londonderry had just succumbed under the weight of a
burden too heavy for the equilibrium of his mind; he had cut his
throat on the 12th of August, coldly resolved, even to the last
day, as firmly to sustain peace as he had been to sustain war;
too feeble nevertheless to resist the new embarrassments that he
apprehended from the state of agitation in Europe, and
precipitated by his patriotic agonies into a fit of insanity.
{454}
The battle of Austerlitz broke the heart of Mr. Pitt. After
having victoriously concluded peace, and maintained order in
England while all the thrones of the continent were shaken. Lord
Londonderry had become a madman.
Mr. Canning replaced him in power, not without intrigue nor
without internal difficulty. He associated with himself Mr.
Huskinson, an able and honest minister of the finances, liberal
like himself, and disposed likewise to favor the popular
movement, that they had neither the power nor the desire to
repress. The first intimation of this new attitude of the
government, was the recognition by England of the South American
republics: ancient Spanish colonies revolted against the yoke of
the mother country. Successive shocks had agitated Spain; the
Bourbons had been overthrown and replaced by a provisory
government. Recalled to the throne by a royalist insurrection,
Ferdinand VII. had been seconded by France; the Duke of
Angoulême, eldest son of King Louis XVIII., at the head of an
army had re-established the monarchy in Spain, while Austria, in
her turn, interfered in the affairs of the kingdom of Naples, as
confused and troubled as those of Spain. Under Mr. Canning,
England remained faithful to the principle of non-intervention;
nevertheless without sympathy for the sovereigns attacked,
without good will to their defenders. "We have exerted all our
efforts to prevent the French from entering Spain," said Mr.
Canning. "We have exhausted every means but war. I admit that the
entrance of a French army into Spain was a measure of
disparagement to Great Britain.
{455}
Do you think that for this disparagement we have not been
compensated? Do you think that for the blockade of Cadiz, England
has not received a full recompense? I looked at Spain by another
name than Spain; I looked on that power as Spain and the Indies;
and so looking at the Indies, I have there called a new world
into existence and regulated the balance of power."
While Mr. Canning pursued a foreign policy, boldly independent in
regard to the powers and common interests of Europe, he remained
preoccupied and sad. He had reached the summit of grandeur;
admired and respected by all, still young and powerful, by reason
of his personal merit, he nevertheless stood alone, having parted
from all the friends who had fought at his side at the outset of
his career, separated from them by the attitude he had taken at
the head of the liberals; and also separated from the liberals,
that he commanded by the resistance that he opposed to
parliamentary reform. His health was good, but the nervous state
into which the trials and vexations of political life had thrown
him, slowly undermined the forces that he sought in vain to
repair by the pleasures and charms of society. He died on the 8th
of August, 1827, at Chiswick, in the beautiful villa of the Duke
of Devonshire, and in the same chamber where Mr. Fox breathed his
last.
One after the other, young and old, death gathered the great
actors of the long struggle sustained by England against the
anarchical passions and absolute ambition from without and the
contagion of fatal evils within. But few months after the death
of Mr. Canning, Lord Liverpool, in his turn, old and worn out,
already withdrawn from the world by an attack of paralysis, also
died. It was necessary to provide for the needs of government. A
cabinet of coalition slipped through the hands of Lord Goderich.
{456}
The Duke of Wellington had directed victoriously the affairs of
England in war, and the king now demanded of the great general
that he should take charge of the political affairs of the
government. The Duke, accustomed to obey the call of duty
wherever it led, did not hesitate, confiding simply in the power
of good sense and honest authority. The Whigs retired; the
liberal Tories, Mr. Peel at their head, closed their ranks around
the new chief whom fortune had sent them.
The young Lord Aberdeen, already distinguished, with Lord
Castlereagh, in the most important diplomatic negotiations, now,
for the first time, took part in the internal government of his
country. He had the good fortune to be loved and honored by all,
both at home and abroad, during his entire career. The ministry
had, from the beginning, to confront a difficult and long
contested question. It found itself constrained to support and
defend a measure that it had previously ardently combatted. The
situation in Ireland occupied all minds; the emancipation of the
Catholics became, more than ever, in the eyes of some, the
evident remedy for all evils; but to others, the object of lively
inquietude and profound repugnance.
Commerce had developed in Ireland; industry had increased her
exportations; the ministers hostile to the measures that were
demanded to relieve the miseries of a neighboring and dependent
kingdom, cited with pride the figures of the statistics: but the
wealth was concentrated in a small number of hands; the
proprietors of the soil were, for the most part, strangers to
Ireland; absent or indifferent to her sufferings. The common
people were engaged in agricultural pursuits of the most
primitive character, without other care than to draw from the
earth, with the least possible effort, the subsistence necessary
from day to day.
{457}
The introduction of the potato, by giving the peasants a food
more economical than wheat, had increased their idleness, their
improvidence, and their misery. Without money, without resources,
without education, habitually separated from the higher classes,
the Irish peasantry lived in a state bordering on barbarism. "The
last of the animals, does not support its kind," said, in 1822,
the most illustrious of their advocates, Daniel O'Connell, often
most useful but many times dangerous to their cause: "Their homes
should not be called houses--they have no right to that title:
they are huts, built in the earth, partly thatched over, partly
exposed to the elements. No furniture garnishes the interior; it
is a luxury to possess a trunk; and a table is rarely to be
found. All the family live in one room; they have no beds, and
sleep upon straw; in the mountainous districts they scarcely have
sufficient covering. Their wages are not above eight cents per
day, and even at that rate, farm hands cannot find work. Their
land, therefore, is their only means of support, and this land is
leased to them at a price far above its real value, owing to the
numerous middlemen who come between the proprietors and the
peasants."
So much suffering, so long endured without effectual relief, in a
situation seemingly without issue, at last brought about a
violent agitation, which was used to foment religious and
political passions. The Test Act was repealed, and a simple oath
of allegiance was substituted for the compulsory communion with
the established Church. This was the first step leading to the
emancipation of the Catholics; all felt it, even the protestant
dissenters, who supported the measure, although it was of more
benefit to their traditional enemies, the Catholics, than to
themselves.
{458}
Public opinion was at the time violent but brilliantly directed.
Under Mr. Canning the Irish Catholics were careful not to obtrude
their claims, as they feared to embarrass, by public alarm, the
good will of the government. When they saw the power fall into
the hands of the Tories, they at once engaged passionately in the
contest: the Catholic associations commenced their popular
assemblies, their harangues, their addresses, their pamphlets,
their subscriptions, all their ardent and adroit work, as much to
excite and to discipline the people in England as to encourage
and recruit their partisans in Ireland. O'Connell and Moore, two
men of very unequal powers, but both powerful at this time, by
diverse means, marched at the head of this crusade for the
emancipation of their faith and race. O'Connell, that robust and
audacious wrestler, that inventive and strategic legislator,
indefatigable in his eloquence, brilliant or vulgar, captivating
or diverting, devoted with unscrupulous passion to the cause
which made at the same time his glory and his fortune; Moore,
patriotic and worldly poet, pathetic and satirical, as popular in
the salons of London as O'Connell in the meetings of Ireland;
singing his melodies while O'Connell breathed forth his
invectives, both constant in their efforts, rallying to the
service of the same cause the mass of the people and the elegant
world, the impetuous passions and the elevated thoughts, the
ambition of men, and the sympathy of women, the Celtic peasants
and the Saxon nobles, the Catholic priests and the philosophic
Whigs.
The grandeur of the purpose responded to the ardor of the effort.
O'Connell was elected from the county of Clare, to that House of
Commons from which he was excluded by law. Ireland was completely
under his control; sometimes precipitating itself to the last
limits of legal order, then again docile and prudent. In England,
among the different classes of the laity, as well as in the bosom
of the Anglican Church, public sentiment favorable to the
Catholic Church gained ground day by day.
{459}
As obstinate in its alarms, as sincere in its faith, Protestant
Toryism struggled against the tide, but that struggle became more
and more feeble; the Orange societies of Ireland weakly opposed
the meetings of the Catholic associations, and in the House of
Lords, Lord Eldon himself lost confidence: "We will combat," said
he, "but we will be in a miserable minority. That which is most
disastrous is that many bishops will be against us."
Without being more sincere than Lord Eldon, the bishops favorable
to the emancipation of the Catholics had judged better than he of
their duty as Christian prelates, and the true interests of their
religious faith; the government also realized that the measure
had become necessary. The Duke of Wellington, always ready to
confront the truth, however disagreeable it might be, now became
convinced that the present state of affairs in Ireland ought not
to be prolonged, and that it was necessary to remove all cause
and all legitimate pretext for the intrigues and maneuvres of the
agitators. Religious liberty was not in question; thanks to the
progress of public opinion in the midst of Christian
civilization, the practical freedom of religious beliefs, and
different worship, either Protestant or Catholic, was not
affected: it was the equality of political rights, the separation
of civil from religious society that they demanded; and it was
from a government whose entire political establishment, royalty,
parliament and legislation, was exclusively protestant, that this
declaration was to emanate and become law. It was in consequence
of the pressing necessity, and not from any general principles of
truth and justice, that the Duke of Wellington and Mr. Peel
decided to present to Parliament, a measure that they were unable
any longer to resist, and for which they had with great
difficulty obtained the consent of the king.
{460}
It was not from principle that George IV. resisted the demands of
his ministers. Protestantism was a tradition of his house; he
regarded it as the foundation of his throne; he wished besides to
shows his authority. He feigned an endeavor to form a new cabinet
but did not succeed. "What am I to do?" said he to Lord Eldon,
"my situation is miserable. If I give my consent I shall go to
Hanover. I shall return no more to England." In order to guard
against treachery or weakness, the ministers exacted a written
authorization from him. On the 5th of March, 1829, Mr. Peel
proposed to the House of Commons the abolition of the civil and
political disabilities which weighed upon the Catholics.
Violently attacked, and censured for his cowardice in renouncing
his life-long opinion before servile terrors, the great minister
replied: "I know of no motive of conduct more ignominious than
fear; but there is a disposition more dangerous perhaps yet,
although less base; it is the fear of being suspected of having
feared. However vile a coward may be, the man who abandons
himself to the fear of being treated as a coward, shows but
little more courage. The ministers of his majesty have not been
alarmed by the Catholic associations; they had stifled all
attempts at intimidation; but there are fears which are not
repugnant to the character of the firmest man, _constantis
viri_. There are things which cannot be seen without fear. One
_ought_ not to see without fear the disorganization and the
disaffection which exists in Ireland, and that one that affects
not to fear them, would show himself insensible to the happiness
or misfortune of his country."
[Image]
Windsor Castle.
{461}
It was in the same spirit of patriotic uneasiness that the Duke
of Wellington said to the House of Lords: "It has been my fortune
to have seen much of war, more than most men; I have been
constantly engaged in the active duties of the military
profession. From boyhood until I have grown gray my life has been
passed in familiarity with scenes of death and human suffering.
Circumstances have placed me in countries where the war was
internal, between parties of the same nation; and rather than a
country I loved should be visited with the calamities which I
have seen, with the unutterable horrors of a civil war, I would
run any risk; I would make any sacrifice; I would freely lay down
my life."
The emancipation of the Catholics had not borne all the fruits of
pacification and of conciliation that was expected; it left alive
many germs of bitterness, destined more than once to produce
cruel agitations. It was nevertheless legitimate, necessary and
honorable to the government which proposed it, and the Parliament
which passed it. Truth and justice are powerful in the souls of
men, whatever be the passions which animate them or the
prejudices which blind them. It was with the serene sentiment of
a great task nobly accomplished that Mr. Peel said to the House
of Commons, some months later, "I say without any feeling of
hostility or bitterness, I fully knew, from the first day, the
dolorous results that the emancipation of the Catholics would
have for me, both personally and in my public character; but if
the same circumstances should occur again, if I had to take my
resolution anew on this subject, and with still more knowledge of
the sacrifice, I would announce this evening to the House, a
motion to propose that measure."
{462}
Some months after the ratification of the emancipation bill. King
George IV. died at Windsor (June 26th, 1830). Great events, both
at home and abroad took place under his regency or during his
reign. Peace was concluded in Europe after the last efforts of a
supreme struggle; the great injustice so long endured by the
English Catholics, was removed by the free action of the
Protestants. This glory belonged to others rather than to him: he
left the Duke of Wellington to conquer at Waterloo--he had so
many times recounted the part he had taken in the combat that he
finally forgot that he had not left England during that epoch. He
left the Duke of Wellington and Mr. Peel to bear alone the burden
of a measure to which he was opposed from habit of mind, as well
as from personal repugnance, without any conscientious scruples.
Brilliant, highly educated and refined, he spread about him, in
the intimacy of his court, a baneful influence; corrupt himself
and a corrupter of others. The burdens of the foreign wars and
the great Parliamentary struggles, left only as their results,
demoralization and lasting evil to the country.