to import corn into England till the price of home-grown corn had
reached eighty shillings a quarter. It is easy to attack a system based
on rigid figures applied to conditions varying widely in every century;
but the idea was that the English farmer should be given a decisive
advantage over his foreign rivals, and only when the price rose to a
prohibitive point might the interest of the consumer be allowed to
outweigh that of the producer. The revival of the old law in 1815 met
with strong opposition. England had greatly changed; the agricultural
area had not been widely increased, but there were many more millions of
mouths to feed, thanks to the growth of population in the industrial
districts. But while in 1815 the House of Commons represented almost
exclusively the land-owning and corn-growing classes, between 1815 and
1840 opposition to their policy had lately been growing and had been
organized, outside Parliament, by the famous league of which Richard
Cobden was the leading spirit. Peel, though he had been brought up by
his father a strong Protectionist and Tory, had been largely influenced
by Huskisson, the most remarkable President of the Board of Trade that
this country has ever seen, and had shown on many occasions that he
grasped the principle of Free Trade as well as any statesman of the day.
The Whigs had left the finances of the country in a very bad state, and
Peel had to take sweeping measures to restore credit. From 1842 to 1845
he brought in Budgets of a Free Trade character, designed to encourage
commerce by remitting taxation, especially on raw material; and he made
up the loss thus incurred by the Treasury, by imposing an income-tax. To
this policy there were two exceptions, the Corn Laws and the Sugar
Duties. On the latter he felt that England, since she had abolished
slave-owning, had a duty to her colonies to see that they did not suffer
by the competition of sugar produced by slave labour elsewhere. On the
former he held that England ought, so far as possible, to produce its
own food and to be self-sufficing; and as a practical man he recognized
that it was too much to expect of the agricultural interest, so strongly
represented in both Houses of Parliament, to pronounce what seemed to be
its death-warrant. But through these years he came more and more to see
that the interest of a class must give way to the interest of the
nation; and his clear intellect was from time to time shaken by the
arguments of the Anti-Corn-Law League and its orators. In 1845 he was
probably expecting that he would tide over this Parliament, thanks to
his Budgets and to good harvests, and that at a general election he
would be able to declare for a change of fiscal policy without going
back on his pledges to the party. Meanwhile his general attitude had
been noted by shrewd observers. Cobden himself in a speech delivered at
Birmingham said, 'There can be no doubt that Sir Robert Peel is at heart
as good a Free Trader as I am. He has told us so in the House of Commons
again and again.'
Among the causes which influenced Peel at the moment two are specially
noteworthy as reminding us of the way in which his opinion was changed
over Catholic Emancipation. Severe critics say that, to retain office,
he surrendered to the agitation of Cobden, as he had surrendered to that
of O'Connell. Undoubtedly the increasing size and success of Cobden's
meetings, which were on a scale unknown before in political agitation,
did cause Peel to consider fully what he had only half considered
before: it did help to force open a door in his mind, and to break down
a water-tight compartment. But Peel's mind, once opened, saw far more
than an agitation and a transfer of votes: it looked at the merits of
the question and surveyed the interest of the whole country. He had seen
that the fall of a Protestant Church was less serious than the loss of
Ireland: he now saw that a shock to the agricultural interest was less
serious than general starvation in the country. And as with the Clare
election, so with the Irish potato famine in 1845: a definite event
arrested his attention and clamoured for instant decision. Peel was as
humane a man as has ever presided over the destinies of this country,
and the picture of Ireland's sufferings was brought forcibly before his
imagination by the reports presented to him and by his own knowledge of
the country. His personal consistency could not be put in the balance
against national distress.
That the manner in which he made the change did give great offence to
his followers, there is no room to doubt. Peel was naturally reserved in
manner and in his Cabinet he occupied a position of such unquestioned
superiority that he had no need of advice to make up his mind, and was
apt to keep matters in his own hand. Whether he was preparing to consult
his colleagues or not, the Irish potato famine forced his hand before he
had done so. When in November 1845 he made suddenly in the Cabinet a
definite proposal to suspend the duties on corn, only three members
supported him. Year after year Peel had opposed the motion brought in by
Mr. Villiers[10] for repeal: only those who had been studying the
situation as closely as Peel and with as clear a vision--and they were
few--could understand this sudden declaration of a change of policy.
After holding four Cabinet councils in one week, winning over some
waverers, but still failing to get a unanimous vote, he expressed a wish
to resign. But the Whigs, owing to personal disagreements, could not
form a ministry and Queen Victoria asked Peel to retain office: it was
evident that he alone could carry through the measure which he believed
to be so urgent, and he steeled himself to face the breach with his own
party. As Lord John Russell had already pledged the Whigs to repeal, the
issue was no longer in doubt; but Peel was not to win the victory
without heavy cost. Disraeli, who had been offended at not being given a
place in the ministry in 1841, came forward, rallied the agricultural
interest, and attacked his leader in a series of bitter speeches,
opening old sores, and charging him with having for the second time
broken his pledges and betrayed his party. The Protectionists could not
defeat the Government. In the Commons the Whig votes ensured a
majority: in the Lords the influence of Wellington triumphed over the
resistance of the more obstinate landowners. The Bill passed its third
reading by ninety-eight votes.
[Note 10: The Right Hon. C. P. Villiers, M.P. for Wolverhampton,
began to advocate repeal in 1837, four years before Cobden entered
Parliament.]
But Peel knew how uncertain was his position in view of the hostility
aroused. At this very time the Irish question was acute, as a Coercion
Bill was under consideration, and this gave his enemies their chance.
The Protectionist Tories made an unprincipled alliance for the moment
with the Irish members; and on the very day when the Repeal of the Corn
Laws passed the House of Lords, the ministry was defeated in the
Commons. The moment of his fall, when Disraeli and the Protectionists
were loudest in their exultation, was the moment of his triumph. It is
the climax of his career. In the long debate on Repeal he had refused to
notice personal attacks: he now rose superior to all personal rancour.
In defeat he bore himself with dignity, and in his last speech as
minister he praised Cobden in very generous terms, giving him the chief
credit for the benefits which the Bill conferred upon his
fellow-countrymen. This speech gave offence to his late colleagues,
Aberdeen, Sidney Herbert, and Gladstone, and was interpreted as being
designed to mark clearly Peel's breach with the Conservative party. The
whole episode is illustrated in an interesting way in the _Life of
Gladstone_. Lord Morley[11] reports a long conversation between the two
friends and colleagues, where Peel declares his intention to act in
future as a private member and to abstain from party politics.
Gladstone, while fully allowing that Peel had earned the right to retire
after such labours ('you have been Prime Minister in a sense in which no
other man has been since Mr. Pitt's time'), pointed out how impossible
it would be for him to carry out his intentions. His personal
ascendancy in Parliament was too great: men must look to him as a
leader. But Peel evidently was at the end of his strength, and had been
suffering acutely from pains in the head, due to an old shooting
accident but intensified by recent hard work. For the moment repose was
essential.
[Note 11: Morley's _Life of Gladstone_, vol. i, pp. 297-300 (cf.
Gladstone's own retirement in 1874).]
It was Gladstone, Peel's disciple and true successor, who seven years
later paid the following tribute to his memory: 'It is easy', he said,
'to enumerate many characteristics of the greatness of Sir Robert Peel.
It is easy to speak of his ability, of his sagacity, of his
indefatigable industry. But there was something yet more admirable...
and that was his sense of public virtue;... when he had to choose
between personal ease and enjoyment, or again, on the other hand,
between political power and distinction, and what he knew to be the
welfare of the nation, his choice was made at once. When his choice was
made, no man ever saw him hesitate, no man ever saw him hold back from
that which was necessary to give it effect.' Though his own political
views changed, Gladstone always paid tribute to the moral influence
which Peel had exercised in political life, purifying its practices and
ennobling its traditions.
For the last four years of his life he was in opposition, but he held a
place of dignity and independence which few fallen ministers have ever
enjoyed. He was the trusted friend and adviser of Queen Victoria and the
Prince Consort; he was often consulted in grave matters by the chiefs of
the Government; his speeches both in the House and in the country
carried greater weight than those of any minister. Despite the
bitterness of the Protectionists he seemed still to have a great future
before him, and in any national emergency the country would unfailingly
have called him to the helm. But on July 29, 1850, when he was just
reaching the age of sixty-two, he had a fall from his horse which
caused very grave injuries, and he only survived three days.
The interest of Peel's life is almost absorbed by public questions. He
was not picturesque like Disraeli; he did not, like Gladstone, live long
enough to be in his lifetime a mythical figure; the public did not
cherish anecdotes about his sayings or doings, nor did he lend himself
to the art of the caricaturist. He was an English gentleman to the
backbone, in his tastes, in his conduct, in his nature. His married life
was entirely happy, he had a few devoted friends, he avoided general
society; he had a genuine fondness for shooting and country life, he was
a judicious patron of art, and his collection of Dutch pictures form
to-day a very precious part of our National Gallery. Just because of his
aloofness, his gravity, the concentration of his energies, he is the
best example that we can study if we want to know how an English
statesman should train himself to do work of lasting value and how he
should bear himself in the hour of trial. Within little more than half a
century three famous politicians, Peel, Gladstone, and Chamberlain, have
split their parties in two by an abrupt change of policy, and their
conduct has been bitterly criticized by those to whom the traditions of
party are dear. It is the glory of British politics that these
traditions remained honourable so long, and no one of these statesmen
broke with them lightly or without regret. For all that, let us be
thankful that from time to time statesmen do arise who are capable of
responding to a still higher call, of following their own individual
consciences and of looking only to what, so far as they can judge, is
the highest interest of the nation.
CHARLES JAMES NAPIER
1782-1853
1782. Born in London, August 10.
1794. Commission in 33rd Regiment.
1800. At Shorncliffe with Sir John Moore.
1809. Wounded and prisoner at Coruña.
1810-11. Peninsula War: Busaco, Fuentes d'Onoro, &c. Lieut.-Colonel, 1811.
1812-13. Bermuda and American War.
1815-17. Military College at Farnham.
1820. Corfu.
1822-30. Cephalonia.
1835. Living quietly in France and England.
1837. Major-General.
1838. K.C.B.
1839. Command in North of England. Chartist agitation.
1841. Command in India at Poona.
1842-7. War and organization in Sind.
1849-50. Commander-in-Chief in India.
1853. Died at Oaklands, near Portsmouth, August 29.
SIR CHARLES NAPIER, G.C.B.
SOLDIER
The famous Napier brothers, Charles, George, and William, came of no
mean parentage. Their father, Colonel the Hon. George Napier, of a
distinguished Scotch family, was remarkable alike for physical strength
and mental ability. In the fervour of his admiration his son Charles
relates how he could 'take a pewter quart and squeeze it flat in his
hand like a bit of paper'. In height 6 feet 3 inches, in person very
handsome, he won the admiration of others besides his sons. He had
served in the American war, but his later years were passed in
organizing work, and he showed conspicuous honesty and ability in
dealing with Irish military accounts. One of his reforms was the
abolition of all fees in his office, by which he reduced his own salary
from £20,000 to £600 per annum, emulating the more famous act of the
elder Pitt as Paymaster-general half a century before. Their mother,
Lady Sarah Lennox, daughter of the Duke of Richmond, had been a reigning
toast in 1760. She had even been courted by George III, and might have
been handed down to history as the mother of princes. In her old age she
was more proud to be the mother of heroes; and her letters still exist,
written in the period of the great wars, to show how a British mother
could combine the Spartan ideal with the tenderest personal affection.
[Illustration: SIR CHARLES NAPIER
From the drawing by Edwin Williams in the National Portrait Gallery]
Their father's appointment involved residence in Ireland from 1785
onwards, and the boys passed their early years at Celbridge in the
neighbourhood of Dublin. Here they were far from the usual amusements
and society of the time, but they were fortunate in their home circle
and in the character of their servants, and they learnt to cherish the
ancient legends of Ireland and to pick up everything that could feed
their innate love of adventure and romance. Close to their doors lived
an old woman named Molly Dunne, who claimed to be one hundred and
thirty-five years of age, and who was ready to fill the children's ears
with tales of past tragedies whenever they came to see her. Sir William
Napier tells us how she was 'tall, gaunt, and with high sharp
lineaments, her eyes fixed in their huge orbs, and her tongue
discoursing of bloody times: she was wondrous for the young and fearful
for the aged'.
Instead of class feeling and narrow interests the boys developed early a
great sympathy for the poor, and a capacity for judging people
independently of rank. Charles Napier himself, born in Whitehall, was
three years old when they moved to Ireland. He was a sickly child, the
one short member of a tall family, but equal to any of them in courage
and resolution. His heroism in endurance of pain was put to a severe
test when he broke his leg at the age of seventeen. It was twice badly
set. He was threatened first by the entire loss of it, next with the
prospect of a crooked leg, but he bore cheerfully the most excruciating
torture in having it straightened by a series of painful experiments,
and in no long time he recovered his activity. In the army he showed his
strength of will by rigid abstinence from drinking and gambling, no easy
feat in those days; and he learned by his father's example to control
all extravagance and to live contentedly on a small allowance. His
earliest enthusiasm among books was for Plutarch's _Lives_, the
favourite reading of so many great commanders. He had many outdoor
tastes: riding, fishing, and shooting, and he was soon familiar with the
country-side. There was no need of classes or prizes to stimulate his
reading, no need of organized games to provide an outlet for his
energies or to fill his leisure time.
The confidence that his father had in the training of his sons is best
shown by the early age at which he put them in responsible positions.
Charles actually received a commission in the 33rd Regiment at the age
of twelve, but he did not see service till he was seventeen. Meanwhile
the young ensign continued his schooling from his father's house at
Celbridge, to which he and his brother returned every evening, sometimes
in the most unconventional manner. Celbridge, like other Irish villages,
had its pigs. The Irish pig is longer in the leg and more active than
his English cousin, and the Napier boys would be seen careering along at
a headlong pace on these strange mounts, with a cheering company of
village boys behind them. They were Protestants among older Roman
Catholic comrades, but they soon became the leaders in the school, and
Charles, despite his youth and small stature, was chosen to command a
school volunteer corps at the age of fourteen. At seventeen he joined
his regiment at Limerick, and for six or seven years he led the life of
a soldier in various garrison towns of southern England, fretting at
inaction, learning what he could, and welcoming any chance of increased
work and danger. At this time his enthusiasm for soldiering was very
variable. In a letter written in 1803 he makes fun of the routine of his
profession, as he was set to practise it, and ends up, 'Such is the
difference between a hero of the present time and the idea of one formed
from reading Plutarch! Yet people wonder I don't like the army!'
But this was a passing mood. When stirring events were taking place, no
one was more full of ardour, and when he came under such a general as
Sir John Moore he expressed himself in a very different tone. In 1805
Moore was commanding at Hythe, and Charles Napier's letters are aglow
with enthusiasm for the great qualities which he showed as an
administrator and army reformer. Like Wolseley seventy or eighty years
later, Moore had the gift of finding the best among his subalterns and
training them in his own excellences. After his own father there was no
one who had so much influence as Moore in the making of Charles Napier.
In 1808 he sailed for the Peninsula with the rank of major, commanding
the 50th Regiment in the colonel's absence; he took an active part in
Moore's famous retreat at Coruña, and in the battle was taken prisoner
after conduct of the greatest gallantry in leading his regiment under
fire. Two months later he was released and again went to the front. In
1810 and 1811 he and his brothers George and William were fighting under
Wellington, and were all so frequently wounded that the family fortunes
became a subject of common talk. On more than one occasion Wellington
himself wrote to Lady Sarah to inform her of the gallantry and
misfortunes of her sons. At Busaco Charles had his jaw broken and was
forced to retire into hospital at Lisbon. In his haste to rejoin the
army, which he did when only half convalescent, he accomplished the feat
of riding ninety miles on one horse in a single day; and in the course
of his ride met two of his brothers being carried down, wounded, to the
base. But in 1811 promotion withdrew Charles Napier from the Peninsula.
A short command in Guernsey was followed by another in Bermuda, which
involved him in the American war. He had little taste for warfare with
men of the same race as himself, and was heartily glad to exchange back
to the 50th in 1813, and to return to England. He started out as a
volunteer to share in the campaign of Waterloo, but all was over before
he could join the army in Flanders, and this part of his soldiering
career ended quietly. He had received far more wounds than honours, and
might well have been discouraged in the pursuit of his profession.
But here we can put to the test how far Napier's expressions of distaste
for the service affected his conduct. He chafed at the inactivity of
peace; but instead of abandoning the army for some more profitable
career, he used his enforced leisure to prepare for further service and
to extend his knowledge of political and military history. He spent the
greater part of three years at the Military College, then established at
Farnham, varying his professional studies with sallies into the domain
of politics, and as a result he developed marked Radical views which he
held through life. His note-books show a splendid grasp of principles
and a close attention to facts; they range from the enforcing of the
death penalty for marauding to the details of cavalry-kit. His Spartan
regime became famous in later years; even now he prescribed a strict
rule, 'a cloak, a pair of shoes, two flannel shirts, and a piece of
soap--these, wrapped up in an oil-skin, must go in the right holster,
and a pistol in the left.' He took no opinions at second hand, but
studied the best authorities and thought for himself; he was as thorough
in self-education as the famous Confederate general 'Stonewall' Jackson,
who every evening sat for an hour, facing a blank wall and reviewing in
his mind the subjects which he had read during the day.
No opportunity for reaping the fruit of these studies and exercising his
great gifts was given him till May 1819. Then he was appointed to the
post of inspecting-officer in the Ionian Islands;[12] and in 1822 he was
appointed Military Resident in Cephalonia, the largest of these islands,
a pile of rugged limestone hills, scantily supplied with water, and
ruined by years of neglect and the oppression of Turkish pashas. So
began what was certainly the happiest, and perhaps the most fruitful,
period in Charles Napier's life. It was not strictly military work, but,
without the authority which his military rank gave him and without the
despotic methods of martial law, little could have been achieved in the
disordered state of the country. The whole episode is a good example of
how a well-trained soldier of original mind can, when left to himself,
impress his character on a semi-civilized people, and may be compared
with the work of Sir Harry Smith in South Africa, or Sir Henry Lawrence
in the Punjab. The practical reforms which he initiated in law, in
commerce, in agriculture, are too numerous to mention. 'Expect no
letters from me', he writes to his mother, 'save about roads. No going
home for me: it would be wrong to leave a place where so much good is
being done.... My market-place is roofed. My pedestal is a tremendous
job, but two months more will finish that also. My roads will not be
finished by me.' And again, 'I take no rest myself and give nobody else
any.' To his superiors he showed himself somewhat impracticable in
temper, and he was certainly exacting to his subordinates, though
generous in his praise of those who helped him. He was compassionate to
the poor and vigorous in his dealings with the privileged classes; and
he gave the islanders an entirely new conception of justice. When he
quitted the island after six years of office he left behind him two new
market-places, one and a half miles of pier, one hundred miles of road
largely blasted out of solid rock, spacious streets, a girls' school,
and many other improvements; and he put into the natives a spirit of
endeavour which outlived his term of office. One sign of the latter was
that, after his departure, some peasants yearly transmitted to him the
profits of a small piece of land which he had left uncared for, without
disclosing the names of those whose labours had earned it.
[Note 12: Ceded to Great Britain in 1815 and given by her in 1864 to
Greece.]
During this period, in visits to Corinth and the Morea, he worked out
strategic plans for keeping the Turks out of Greece. He also made
friends with Lord Byron, who came out in 1823 to help the Greek patriots
and to meet his death in the swamps of Missolonghi. Byron conceived the
greatest admiration for Napier's talents and believed him to be capable
of liberating Greece, if he were given a free hand. But this was not to
be. Reasons of State and petty rivalries barred the way to the
appointment of a British general, though it might have set the name of
Napier in history beside those of Bolivar and Garibaldi; for he would
have identified himself heart and soul with such a cause, and, in the
opinion of many good judges, would have triumphed over the difficulties
of the situation.