The Duke of Wellington applied himself to the treatment of the critical
circumstances of 1830 with that blended patience and quickness of
perception to which he owed the success of so many campaigns. Quite
conscious of the difficulties he had to encounter, he was nevertheless
full of confidence in his ability to control them. It is probable that
the paramount desire of the Duke in his effort to confirm his power was
to rally and restore the ranks of the Tory party, disturbed rather than
broken up by the passing of the Relief Bill. During the very heat of
the struggle it was significantly observed that the head of the powerful
family of Lowther, in the House of Commons, was never asked to resign
his office, although he himself and his following voted invariably
against the Government measure. The order of the day was the utmost
courtesy to the rebels, who were treated, as some alleged, with more
consideration than the compliant. At the same time the desire of the
Whigs to connect, perhaps even to merge themselves with the ministerial
ranks, was not neglected. A Whig had been appointed to succeed
the eccentric and too uncompromising Wetherell in the office of
attorney-general, other posts had been placed at their disposal, and one
even, an old companion in arms of the Duke, had entered the cabinet.
The confidence in the Duke’s star was not diminished, and under
ordinary circumstances this balanced strategy would probably have
been successful. But it was destined to cope with great and unexpected
events.
The first was the unexpected demise of the crown. The death of King
George the Fourth at the end of the month of June, according to the then
existing constitution, necessitated a dissolution of parliament, and so
deprived the minister of that invaluable quality of time, necessary
to soften and win back his estranged friends. Nevertheless, it is not
improbable, that the Duke might still have succeeded, had it not been
for the occurrence of the French insurrection of 1830, in the very heat
of the preparations for the general election in England. The Whigs who
found the Duke going to the country without that reconstruction of his
ministry on which they had counted, saw their opportunity and seized it.
The triumphant riots of Paris were dignified into “the three glorious
days,” and the three glorious days were universally recognised as
the triumph of civil and religious liberty. The names of Polignac
and Wellington were adroitly connected together, and the phrase
Parliamentary Reform began to circulate.
It was Zenobia’s last reception for the season; on the morrow she was
about to depart for her county, and canvass for her candidates. She was
still undaunted, and never more inspiring. The excitement of the times
was reflected in her manner. She addressed her arriving guests as they
made their obeisance to her, asked for news and imparted it before she
could be answered, declared that nothing had been more critical
since ‘93, that there was only one man who was able to deal with the
situation, and thanked Heaven that he was not only in England, but in
her drawing-room.
Ferrars, who had been dining with his patron, Lord Pomeroy, and had
the satisfaction of feeling, that at any rate his return to the new
parliament was certain, while helping himself to coffee could not
refrain from saying in a low tone to a gentleman who was performing the
same office, “Our Whig friends seem in high spirits, baron.”
The gentleman thus addressed was Baron Sergius, a man of middle age. His
countenance was singularly intelligent, tempered with an expression
mild and winning. He had attended the Congress of Vienna to represent
a fallen party, a difficult and ungracious task, but he had shown
such high qualities in the fulfilment of his painful duties--so much
knowledge, so much self-control, and so much wise and unaffected
conciliation--that he had won universal respect, and especially with the
English plenipotentiaries, so that when he visited England, which he did
frequently, the houses of both parties were open to him, and he was as
intimate with the Whigs as he was with the great Duke, by whom he was
highly esteemed.
“As we have got our coffee, let us sit down,” said the baron, and they
withdrew to a settee against the wall.
“You know I am a Liberal, and have always been a Liberal,” said the
baron; “I know the value of civil and religious liberty, for I was
born in a country where we had neither, and where we have since enjoyed
either very fitfully. Nothing can be much drearier than the present lot
of my country, and it is probable that these doings at Paris may help my
friends a little, and they may again hold up their heads for a time; but
I have seen too much, and am too old, to indulge in dreams. You are a
young man and will live to see what I can only predict. The world is
thinking of something else than civil and religious liberty. Those are
phrases of the eighteenth century. The men who have won these ‘three
glorious days’ at Paris, want neither civilisation nor religion. They
will not be content till they have destroyed both. It is possible that
they may be parried for a time; that the adroit wisdom of the house of
Orleans, guided by Talleyrand, may give this movement the resemblance,
and even the character, of a middle-class revolution. It is no such
thing; the barricades were not erected by the middle class. I know these
people; it is a fraternity, not a nation. Europe is honeycombed with
their secret societies. They are spread all over Spain. Italy is
entirely mined. I know more of the southern than the northern nations;
but I have been assured by one who should know that the brotherhood are
organised throughout Germany and even in Russia. I have spoken to
the Duke about these things. He is not indifferent, or altogether
incredulous, but he is so essentially practical that he can only deal
with what he sees. I have spoken to the Whig leaders. They tell me that
there is only one specific, and that a complete one--constitutional
government; that with representative institutions, secret societies
cannot co-exist. I may be wrong, but it seems to me that with these
secret societies representative institutions rather will disappear.”