_By the late Right Hon. G. Canning._
The character of this illustrious statesman early passed its ordeal.
Scarcely had he attained the age at which reflection commences, than
Europe with astonishment beheld him filling the first place in the
councils of his country, and manage the vast mass of its concerns with
all the vigour and steadiness of the most matured wisdom. Dignity,
strength, discretion, these were among the masterly qualities of his
mind at its first dawn. He had been nurtured a statesman, and his
knowledge was of that kind which always lies ready for practical
application. Not dealing in the subtleties of abstract politics, but
moving in the slow, steady procession of reason, his conceptions were
reflective, and his views correct. Habitually attentive to the concerns
of government, he spared no pains to acquaint himself with whatever was
connected, however minutely, with its prosperity. He was devoted to the
state: its interests engrossed all his study, and engaged all his care:
it was the element alone in which he seemed to live and move. He allowed
himself but little recreation from his labours; his mind was always on
its station, and his activity was unremitted.
He did not hastily adopt a measure, nor hastily abandon it. The plan
struck out by him for the preservation of Europe was the result of
prophetic wisdom and profound policy. But though defeated in many
respects by the selfish ambition and short-sighted imbecility of foreign
powers, whose rulers were too venal or too weak to follow the flight of
that mind which would have taught them to outwing the storm, the policy
involved in it was still a secret operation on the conduct of
surrounding states. His plans were full of energy, and the principles
which inspired them looked beyond the consequences of the hour. In a
period of change and convulsion, the most perilous in the history of
Great Britain, when sedition stalked abroad, and when the emissaries of
France and the abettors of her regicide factions formed a league
powerful from their number, and formidable by their talent, in that
awful crisis the promptitude of his measures saved his country.
He knew nothing of that timid and wavering cast of mind which dares not
abide by its own decision. He never suffered popular prejudice or party
clamour to turn him aside from any measure which his deliberate judgment
had adopted; he had a proud reliance on himself, and it was justified.
Like the sturdy warrior leaning on his own battle, axe, conscious where
his strength lay, he did not readily look beyond it.
As a debater in the House of Commons, his speeches were logical and
argumentative: if they did not often abound in the graces of metaphor,
or sparkle with the brilliancy of wit, they were always animated,
elegant, and classical. The strength of his oratory was intrinsic; it
presented the rich and abundant resource of a clear discernment and a
correct taste. His speeches are stampt with inimitable marks of
originality. When replying to his opponents, his readiness was not more
conspicuous than his energy: he was always prompt and always dignified.
He could sometimes have recourse to the sportiveness of irony, but he
did not often seek any other aid than was to be derived from an arranged
and extensive knowledge of his subject. This qualified him fully to
discuss the arguments of others, and forcibly to defend his own. Thus
armed, it was rarely in the power of his adversaries, mighty as they
were, to beat him from the field. His eloquence, occasionally rapid,
electric, vehement, was always chaste, winning, and persuasive, not
awing into acquiescence, but arguing into conviction. His understanding
was bold and comprehensive: nothing seemed too remote for its reach, or
too large for its grasp. Unallured by dissipation, and unswayed by
pleasure, he never sacrificed the national treasure to the one, or the
national interest to the other. To his unswerving integrity the most
authentic of all testimony is to be found in that unbounded public
confidence which followed him throughout the whole of his political
career.
Absorbed as he was in the pursuits of public life, he did not neglect to
prepare himself in silence for that higher destination, which is at once
the incentive and reward of human virtue. His talents, superior and
splendid as they were, never made him forgetful of that eternal wisdom
from which they emanated. The faith and fortitude of his last moments
were affecting and exemplary. In his forty-seventh year, and in the
meridian of his fame, he died on the twenty-third of January, one
thousand eight hundred and six.
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