The events which followed are well known. On receiving the King’s

commands, Mr. Canning immediately requested the services of all his

former colleagues, to some of whom his application could only have been

a mere matter of form. For this reason the surprise affected at many

of the answers received appears to me ridiculous. Mr. Canning and his

friends would have retired, if the Duke of Wellington had been made

Premier; and the Duke of Wellington and his friends retired when Mr.

Canning was made Premier.

Nothing was more simple than the tender of those resignations which

were received with such artificial astonishment; and nothing more

absurd than the cant accusations which were made against those who

tendered them of abandoning the King, &c. &c. Nor was the refutation of

such accusations less idle than their propagation. It might not be true

that the seceding Ministers met in a room, and said, “We will conspire,

and you shall send in your resignation, and I will send in mine.” But

it is quite clear that they had common motives of action, that each

understood what those motives were, that as a body they had long acted

in unison, that as a body they intended to continue so to act. In every

representative government men constantly band in this manner together,

often denying uselessly that they do so; and we have only to refer to

a memorable instance of Whig secession, in 1717, in order to find the

same accusation as foolishly raised, and the same denial as falsely

given.[124]

* * * * *

But although the resignation of the Duke of Wellington and his friends

was almost certain, when the nature of the new arrangement became fully

known, the mere fact of Mr. Canning having been commissioned to form a

government was not at once taken as the proof that he would possess the

power and dignity of Prime Minister.

The Duke of Wellington more particularly seemed determined to consider

that nothing as to a Premier was yet decided, and replied to Mr.

Canning’s announcement that he was charged to form an Administration,

by saying:

“I should wish to know who the person is whom you intend to propose to

his Majesty as the head of the Government.”

To this question Mr. Canning replied at once:

“Foreign Office, April 11, 1827.

“MY DEAR DUKE OF WELLINGTON,

“I believed it to be so generally understood that the King

usually entrusts the formation of an Administration to the

individual whom it is his Majesty’s gracious pleasure to

place at the head of it, that it did not occur to me, when I

communicated to your Grace yesterday the commands which I had

just received from his Majesty, to add that in the present

instance his Majesty does not intend to depart from the usual

course of proceeding on such occasions. I am sorry to have

delayed some hours the answer to your Grace’s letter; but

from the nature of the subject, I did not like to forward it,

without having previously submitted it (together with your

Grace’s letter) to his Majesty.

“Ever, my dear Duke of Wellington, your Grace’s sincere and

faithful servant,

(Signed)

“GEORGE CANNING.”

The Duke of Wellington’s retirement from office and from the command of

the army immediately followed, and now the whole anti-Catholic party

definitely seceded.

VI.

At a cooler moment such an event might have seriously startled George

IV., but the pride of the Sovereign overcame the fears and doubts of

the politician. “He had not altered his policy; he had merely chosen

from amongst his Ministers, a vacancy occurring in the Premiership, a

particular individual to be Prime Minister. It was his clear right to

select the Prime Minister. Who was to have this nomination? The Duke of

Newcastle forsooth!” Thus spoke those of his circle whom Mr. Canning

had had the address to gain.

Nor did he himself shrink from his new situation. His appointment was

announced on the very night it took place, and another writ issued for

the borough of Harwich, amidst cheers that rang through the House of

Commons. Thus he became at once the Minister of the people of England.

They anxiously asked themselves whether he could maintain himself in

this position?

* * * * *

A circumstance occurred which went far towards settling opinions on

this subject. Almost immediately after the official retreat of the

anti-Catholic party, Lord Melville, First Lord of the Admiralty, though

in favour of the Catholic claims, sent in his resignation, assigning

what in the reign of James I. would have been called a good _Scotch

reason_ for doing so, namely, _he did not think the Government could

last_.

The manner of filling up the situation thus vacated might also have

satisfied Lord Melville’s scruples. On the 12th his lordship resigned;

on the 18th Mr. Canning informed him that the Duke of Clarence,

heir-presumptive to the crown, had accepted the office of Lord High

Admiral, and would receive Sir George Cockburn and the other Lords

of the Admiralty at twelve on the following day. This selection,

suggested, it was said, by Mr. Croker, was a decisive blow, and

announced the Royal feelings, as far as Mr. Canning was concerned, for

two reigns at least. There was still, however, the highest office in

the gift of a Minister to fill, that of Lord Chancellor. A supporter

of the Catholic claims could hardly at that moment be selected to

fill it. Amongst the opponents of those claims there was an eminent

lawyer in Parliament, who, if placed on the Woolsack, would become a

most valuable ally in the Lords, instead of being a most formidable

antagonist in the Commons. Sir John Copley, whose recent altercation

with the new Premier on the Catholic question was not forgotten, was

the eminent lawyer alluded to; and hardly was it known that the Duke

of Clarence was Lord High Admiral, when it was likewise officially

promulgated that Sir John Copley, under the title of Lord Lyndhurst,

had accepted the Great Seal. The other appointments immediately made

known were those of Mr. Sturges Bourne (a friend of Mr. Canning) as

Minister for Home Affairs; of Lord Dudley, a Tory who often voted with

Whigs, as Minister of Foreign Affairs; of Mr. William Lamb (after Lord

Melbourne), a Whig who often voted with the Tories, as Secretary for

Ireland; and of Mr. Scarlett, a Whig, as Attorney-General. The Duke

of Portland had accepted the Privy Seal, the Duke of Devonshire the

highest court office, Mr. Robinson, resigning the Chancellorship of

the Exchequer to Mr. Canning, became Lord Goderich, and Leader in the

House of Lords. Lord Palmerston acquired a seat in the Cabinet. Lord

Harrowby, Mr. Wynn, and Mr. Huskisson retained their former offices.

A private arrangement was also made for admitting into the Cabinet, at

the end of the session, Lord Lansdowne (who was to take the place of

Mr. Sturges Bourne), as well as Lord Carlisle and Mr. Tierney.

VII.

In this way commenced that new period in our history, which finally

led to the forming of a large Liberal party, capable of conducting

the affairs of the country, and to a series of divisions in that Tory

party which had so long governed it. I have said that this party was

already divided before the death of Lord Castlereagh; for it then

contained some influential, well-educated men of Whig opinions, though

of Tory alliances, who, whilst opposed to democratic innovations, were

dissatisfied with the unpopular resistance to all changes, which was

the peculiar characteristic of the Lord Chancellor.

Mr. Canning’s junction with this section of politicians brought to it a

great additional force.

Nor was this all. His brilliant genius rallied round him all those

in Parliament and the country who had enlightened ideas and generous

feelings, and were desirous to see England at the head of civilization,

and, whether in her conduct towards foreign nations or at home,

exhibiting an interest in the well-being and improvement of mankind.

Mr. Canning’s feelings on this subject were in no wise disguised by his

language.

“Is it not,” said he on one occasion, when defending Mr. Huskisson’s

Free Trade policy--“is it not the same doctrine and spirit now

persecuting my right honourable friend which in former times stirred

up persecution against the best benefactors of mankind? Is it not

the same doctrine and spirit which embittered the life of Turgot? Is

it not a doctrine and a spirit such as those which have at all times

been at work to stay public advancement and roll back the tide of

civilization? A doctrine and a spirit actuating the minds of little

men who, incapable of reaching the heights from which alone extended

views of human nature can be taken, console and revenge themselves

by calumniating and misrepresenting those who have toiled to such

heights for the advantage of mankind. Sir, I have not to learn that

there is a faction in this country--I mean, not a political faction;

I should rather perhaps have said a sect, small in numbers and

powerless in might, who think that all advances towards improvement are

retrogradations towards Jacobinism. These persons seem to imagine that

under no possible circumstances can an honest man endeavour to keep

his country upon a line with the progress of political knowledge, and

to adapt its course to the varying circumstances of the world. Such

an attempt is branded as an indication of mischievous intentions, as

evidence of a design to sap the foundations of the greatness of the

country.”

* * * * *

Again, whilst avowing himself the pupil and disciple of Mr. Pitt, he

thus beautifully expresses himself:

“It is singular to observe how ready some people are to admire in a

great man the exceptions to the general rule of his conduct rather

than the rule itself. Such perverse worship is like the idolatry of

barbarous nations, who can see the noonday splendour of the sun without

emotion, but who, when he is in eclipse, come forward with hymns and

cymbals to adore him. Thus there are those who venerate Mr. Pitt less

in the brightness of his meridian glory, than under his partial

obscurity, and who gaze on him with the fondest admiration when he has

ceased to shine.”

In this manner, by his spirit, eloquence, and abilities, he brought

public opinion round in such a manner that it even accommodated itself

to his personal position, bringing forward into the light his personal

views as the popular ones, and throwing those which had formerly been

popular, but which he did not support, into the shade. The great

constitutional questions hitherto debated were for a time lost sight

of, and party spirit, as Mr. Baring stated, leaving its other and more

accustomed topics, seemed for the first time to display itself on

subjects simply relating to the commerce and mercantile policy of the

country.

VIII.

At first the adherents of the Duke of Wellington were like the

Royal emigrants from the old French army at the period of the great

Revolution. They thought no officers could be found fitted to take

their places. But when they saw another government formed, and formed

of materials which, if they could be gradually moulded together, would

constitute a composition of solid and perhaps permanent endurance,

their feelings were marked by all that violence and injustice which

are invariably displayed by men who unexpectedly lose power. Mr.

Canning was a renegade for quitting his old political friends to

join the Whigs; the Whigs were renegades for abandoning their old

political principles to join Mr. Canning. Party rancour had not

the candour to acknowledge that if the opinions of Mr. Canning on

Catholic Emancipation were sufficient to alienate from him the great

bulk of the Conservatives, it was natural that those opinions should

attach to him the great bulk of the Liberals. To the attacks of his

own party, which he called “the barking of his own turnspits,” Mr.

Canning was sufficiently indifferent; but there was one voice lifted

up against him, the irony of which pierced his proud heart deeply.

Alone and stately, Lord Grey, who had long considered himself the great

Whig leader, now stood stripped of his followers, and with little

disposition to acknowledge the ascendency of another chieftain.

Contempt was the terrible weapon with which he assailed his brilliant

rival, whom from the height of a great aristocratic position and a long

and consistent public career, he affected to look down upon as a sort

of political adventurer; now carrying out measures the most oppressive

to the civil liberties of the people; now spouting liberal phrases

which he had no intention to realise; now advocating the claims of the

Catholics in glowing words; and now abandoning them when called upon

for practical deeds; and finally dressing himself up in borrowed plumes

and strutting before the public as the author of a foreign policy the

errors of which he cast off upon his colleagues, the merits of which,

with equal meanness and unfairness, he took wholly to himself.

If all that Lord Grey said could have been completely justified (which

it could not); if all that Lord Grey said, I repeat, had been entirely

just (which it was not), the speech which contained it would still have

been ill-timed, and impolitic. Mr. Canning represented at that moment

those liberal ideas which the public were prepared to entertain. He was

encircled by the general popular sympathy, and was therefore in his

day, and at the hour I am speaking of, the natural head of the Liberal

party. The great necessity of the moment was to save that party from

defeat, and give it an advanced position, from which it might march

further forward in the natural course of events. If Mr. Canning’s party

had not obtained power, Lord Grey would never have had a party capable

of inheriting it. If Mr. Canning had not become Prime Minister when

he did, Lord Grey would not have become Prime Minister three years

afterwards.

The public, with that plain common sense which distinguishes most

of its judgments, made allowances for the haughty nobleman’s anger,

but condemned its exhibition. Moreover, the formal charge of Lord

Londonderry, who, as his brother’s representative, accused Mr. Canning

of having forsaken that brother’s policy, was more than a counterpoise

to Lord Grey’s accusation that one Foreign Secretary was no better than

the other. Nor did people stop to examine with minute criticism every

act of a statesman who had lived in changeful times, and who was then

supporting a policy at home favourable to our trade, and carrying out a

policy abroad which inspired affection for our name and reverence for

our power.

I have as yet purposely confined my observations to those events which

were connected with Spain and Portugal, and the struggle we had entered

into against the Holy Alliance in regard to those countries; because it

was there that Mr. Canning’s talents had been most displayed, and that

their consequences had been most important. But we are not to limit our

review of his conduct merely to these questions.

It was not merely in Spain or in Portugal that England justified her

statesman’s proud pretension to hold over nations the umpire’s sceptre,

and to maintain, as the mediatrix between extremes, the peace of the

world. Such was the reputation which this statesman had obtained, even

amongst those against whom his policy had been directed, that the

Emperor Alexander, disgusted with the irresolution of all his other

long, credited allies, turned at last to Mr. Canning, as the only one

capable of taking a manly and decided part in the settlement of a

question in which his power was to be guarded against on the one hand,

and the feelings of his subjects, and the traditions of his empire,

were to be considered on the other.

IX.

The affairs in the East during the last few years require a narrative

which, though rapid, may suffice to account for the alliance into which

at this time we entered.

In 1821 broke out the Greek insurrection. Suppressed in Moldavia and

Wallachia, where it originated, it soon acquired strength in the

Greek islands and the Morea. Excesses were natural on both sides, and

committed by the conquering race, determined to maintain its power,

and by the subjugated one, struggling to throw off its chains. The

Greek Patriarch was murdered at Constantinople, and a series of savage

butcheries succeeded and accompanied this act of slaughter.

By these events Russia was placed in a peculiar and embarrassing

position. She could not countenance insurrection; her system of

policy just displayed in Italy could not be reversed in Greece. But

the sympathies of religion, and the policy she had long pursued

(that of placing herself at the head of the Christian subjects of

the Porte by always assuming the air of their protectress), demanded

some manifestation of interest in the cause of the rebels. She came

forward, then, denouncing the attempt at revolution on the one hand,

but protesting on the other against the feelings which this attempt

had excited, and the means which had been taken to suppress it.

The re-establishment of the Greek Church, the safe exercise of the

Christian religion, were insisted upon. The indiscriminate massacre of

Christians, and the occupation of Moldavia and Wallachia by Turkish

troops, were loudly condemned. A reply within the time fixed not having

been given to the note in which these remonstrances were expressed the

Russian Ambassador quitted Constantinople, and war seemed imminent.

But it was the desire of Austria and England especially to prevent war,

and their joint representations finally succeeded in persuading the

Sultan to satisfy the Russian demands; consequently, shortly after Mr.

Canning’s accession to office, the Greek churches were rebuilt, and

the Principalities evacuated, while wanton outrages against the Rayah

population were punished with due justice and severity.

Russia, however, now made new requests; even these, through the

negotiations of the British ambassador at Constantinople, were complied

with; and, finally, after some hesitations and prevarications, the

cabinet of St. Petersburg renewed its diplomatic relations with the

Porte.

* * * * *

Still it was not difficult to perceive that all the differences

hitherto arranged were slight in comparison with those which must arise

if the Greek struggle long continued unsettled. In ordinary times,

indeed, we shrink before the possibility of a power (whose empire,

however wide, conquest would long keep cemented) establishing itself

across the whole of Europe, and holding on either side, here at the

Straits of the Baltic, there on those of the Mediterranean, the means

of carrying on war, or securing safety and peace as it might seem easy

to obtain victory, or advisable to avoid defeat; a power which, placed

in this position, would demand the constant vigilance of our fleets,

establish an enormous and perpetual drain upon our resources, and which

appeared not unlikely to carry through Persia (the governor of which

would be merely one of her satraps) disorder and destruction to our

Indian empire. In ordinary times this gigantic vision, when seen but

dimly and at a distance, has more than once alarmed our government

and excited our nation. But the tardy struggle of that race for

independence, to whose genius and spirit we owe our earliest dreams of

freedom--a struggle in which we were called upon to side with Greeks

fighting for Liberty, with Christians contending for Christianity, had

awakened feelings which overwhelmed all customary considerations. A

paramount enthusiasm, to which a variety of causes, and especially the

verses of our great and fashionable poet, were contributing, had seized

upon the public mind, and was destined for a while to be omnipotent.

Guarded by that enthusiasm, Russia might have planted her eagles upon

the walls of Constantinople, if she had appeared as the champion of

that land

----“of gods, and godlike men,”

which had at last “exchanged the slavish sickle for the sword,” and it

is doubtful whether an English Minister could have found a Parliament

that would at that moment have sanctioned his defence of the Mahometan

power.

X.

Mr. Canning, then, had either to allow the Russian cabinet to

pursue its unavowed policy uncontrolled, or to limit its action by

connecting himself with the policy which it professed. The contest,

it was evident, after the first successes that had attended the

Porte’s revolted subjects, would not be allowed to terminate in their

subjugation. With the co-operation, or without the co-operation of

Great Britain, the Morea was certain to be wrested from the Turks. To

stand by neutral, calm spectators of what was certain to take place

was to lose our consideration equally with the Ottoman empire and with

Christian Europe, and to give to the Government which acted alone in

this emergency, as the representative of an universal feeling, an

almost universal prestige. But if our interference was expedient, the

only question that could arise was as to the time and manner of our

interfering.

As early as 1824 Count Nesselrode had had a plan for placing Greece

in the situation of the Principalities of the Danube, and the

great powers of Europe were invited to consider the subject. Mr.

Canning was not averse to this project; but he hoped little from

the discordant counsels of the five or six governments called upon

to accept it; more especially as both Greece and Turkey, to whom it

had become accidentally known, were equally dissatisfied; and he was

therefore very properly unwilling to bind his government by a share in

conferences which he foresaw were doomed to be fruitless. In short, the

negotiators met and separated, and the negotiation failed.

* * * * *

But, in the meantime, affairs had been becoming every day more and more

interesting and critical. On the one hand the sympathy for the Greeks

had been increased by the unexpected resolution they had displayed;

they had a loan, a government, and able and enterprising foreigners

had entered into their service. So much was encouraging for their

cause. But on the other hand the Egyptian army of Ibrahim Pasha had

achieved cruel triumphs, and a great part of the Morea, devastated and

depopulated, had submitted to his arms.

During these events the Czar Alexander died; and for some little time

there was hesitation in the Imperial counsels. Alexander’s successor,

however, soon pursued the policy which his accession to the empire had

interrupted, and propositions (not unlike those formerly contemplated)

were now submitted to our Minister, propositions in the carrying out

of which Great Britain and Russia were alone to be combined. The

circumstances of the moment showed that the period of action had

arrived, and Mr. Canning no longer shrank from accepting a part which

there appeared some hope of undertaking with success.

An alliance between two powers, indeed, afforded a fairer chance of

fixing upon a definite course, and maintaining a common understanding,

than the various counsels amongst which union had previously been

sought. The Greeks also, who had formerly rejected all schemes of

compromise (May, 1826), now requested the good offices of England

for obtaining a peace upon conditions which would have recognised

the supremacy of the Sultan, and entailed a tribute upon his former

subjects. Finally (and this affords an interpretation to the whole of

that policy which prevailed in the British counsels, from the first to

the last moment of negotiation), the treaty of alliance into which Mr.

Canning felt disposed to enter, contained this condition:

“That neither Russia nor Great Britain should obtain any advantage for

themselves in the arrangement of those affairs which they undertook to

settle.”

France became subsequently a party to this scheme of intervention, and

it was hoped that a confederacy so powerful would induce the Turks to

submit quietly to the measures which it had been determined, at all

events (by a secret article), if necessary, to enforce.

But whilst these projects were being carried out, these hopes

entertained, that dread King, more potent than all others, held

his hand uplifted over the head of the triumphant and still ardent

statesman.

XI.

On the 2nd of July Parliament had been prorogued; on the 6th the triple

alliance was signed. This celebrated treaty was the last act of Mr.

Canning’s official life. The fatigues of the session, short as it had

been, had brought him near the goal to which the enterprising mind and

assiduous labours of our most eminent men have too often prematurely

conducted them. Of a susceptibility which the slightest word of good or

evil keenly affected, and of that sanguine and untiring temperament

which would never suffer him to repose during circumstances in which he

thought his personal honour, his public opinions, and the welfare of

his political friends required his exertions: tortured by every sneer,

irritated by every affront, ready for every toil; in the last few

months in which he had risen to the heights of power and ambition--such

are human objects--was concentrated an age of anxiety, suffering, and

endurance. His countenance became more haggard, his step more feeble,

and his eye more languid. Yet at this moment, jaded, restless, and

worn, he held in the opinion of the world as high and enviable a

position as any public man ever enjoyed. All his plans had succeeded;

all his enemies had been overthrown. By the people of England he was

cherished as a favourite child; on the Continent he was beloved as the

tutelary guardian of Liberal principles, and respected as the peaceful

and fortunate arbiter between conflicting interests. Abroad, one of the

most formidable alliances ever united against England had been silently

defeated by his efforts. At home, the most powerful coalition that a

haughty aristocracy could form against himself had been successfully

defied by his eloquence and good fortune. The foes of Don Miguel, in

Portugal; the enemies of the Inquisition in Spain; the fervent watchers

after that dawn of civilization, which now opened on the vast empires

of the New World, and which promised again to shine upon the region

it most favoured in ancient times; the American patriot, the Greek

freedman, and last of all, though not the least interested (whether we

consider the wrongs he had endured, the rights to which he was justly

born, the links which should have joined him to, and the injustice

which had severed him from, the national prosperity of Great Britain),

last of all, the Irish Catholic, dwelt fondly and anxiously on the

breath of the aspiring statesman at the head of affairs. His health was

too precious, indeed, for any one to believe it to be in danger.

The wound, notwithstanding, was given, which no medicine had the power

to cure. On the 1st of August the Prime Minister gave a diplomatic

dinner; on the 3rd he was seized with those symptoms which betokened

a fatal crisis to be at hand. At this time he was at the Duke of

Devonshire’s villa at Chiswick, where he had resided since the 20th of

July, for the sake of greater quiet and purer air. The room in which he

lay, and in which another as proud and generous a spirit, that of Mr.

Fox, had passed away, and towards which the eyes of the whole Liberal

world were now turned with agonizing suspense for five days, has since

become a place of pilgrimage. It is a small low chamber, once a kind of

nursery, dark, and opening into a wing of the building, which gives it

the appearance of looking into a courtyard. Nothing can be more simple

than its furniture or decorations, for it was chosen by Mr. Canning,

who had always the greatest horror of cold, on account of its warmth.

On one side of the fireplace are a few bookshelves; opposite the foot

of the bed is the low chimneypiece, and on it a small bronze clock, to

which we may fancy the weary and impatient sufferer often turning his

eyes during those bitter moments in which he was passing from the world

which he had filled with his name, and was governing with his projects.

What a place for repeating those simple and touching lines of Dyer:

“A little rule, a little sway,

A sunbeam on a winter’s day,

Is all the proud and mighty have

Between the cradle and the grave.”

After passing some time in a state of insensibility, during which the

words “Spain and Portugal” were frequently on his lips, on the 8th of

August Mr. Canning succumbed. His remains sleep in Westminster Abbey;

a peerage and a pension were granted to his family; and a statue is

erected to his memory on the site of his parliamentary triumphs.

* * * * *

The generation amidst which Mr. Canning died, attended his hearse, and

crowned his funeral with honours. What is the place he ought to hold in

the minds of future generations of his countrymen?

PART V.

One must judge men by a real and not ideal standard of

mankind.--Criticisms on Mr. Canning’s conduct.--His faults when

in a subordinate position.--His better qualities developed in a

superior one.--Nature of faculties.--Influence on his own time

and the succeeding one.--Foreign policy considered.--Person;

manners; specimens of his various abilities; eloquence;

art; and turn for drollery and satire.--Style of speaking

of despatches.--Always young, and inspiring admiration and

affection, even when provoking censure.

I.

In estimating the character of public men, the biographer or critic,

if he descend from the sublimity of unbounded panegyric, is often apt

to elevate himself at the expense of the person of whom he speaks; and

to treat with artificial severity any dereliction from that perfection

of conduct which he sees nowhere attained. Thanks to this affected

severity or paltry envy, we have hardly a great man left to us.

Bolingbroke is nothing but a quack; the elder Pitt only a charlatan;

Burke himself a declaimer and a renegade; Fox an ambitious politician

out of place; all of which things these great men to a certain degree

were, being still great men; and deserving the admiration of a

posterity which can hardly hope to furnish their equals.

“No one should write history,” said Montaigne, “who has not himself

served the State in some civil or military capacity.” By which this

shrewd and impartial observer meant, that no man is fit to judge the

conduct of men of action who is not himself a man of action, and can

judge it practically, according to what men really are in the world,

and not according to any imaginary theory which he may adopt in the

obscure nook of his own chimney corner, as to what they might and ought

to be.

“We are not,” says Cicero, “in the Republic of Plato, but in the

mud of Romulus;” and they who have observed and meditated upon the

vicissitudes of empires, will have seen that such have risen or

fallen according to the number of eminent men, endowed with lofty

intelligences and daring spirits, whom they have produced. And where

have such eminent men existed without defects? Human nature is too

imperfect for us to expect to find extraordinary abilities and energies

under the constant control of moderate virtues.

To those, then, who have read the preceding pages, the whole of Mr.

Canning’s career may be shortly summed up in the words of Lord Orford

(Horace Walpole), who, speaking of Lord Chatham, says:

“His ambition was to be the most illustrious man in the first country

in the world, and he thought that the eminence of glory could not be

sullied by the steps to it being passed irregularly” (vol. iv. p. 243).

In the same manner Canning was less scrupulous than he should have

been to obtain power and fame. But, in the most memorable part of his

life, he made a noble use of the one and well deserved the other.

Desirous of office and distinction, he attached himself, on entering

life, to that minister by whom office and distinction were most likely

to be conferred. The circumstances of the time afforded him not merely

an apology, but a fair reason for doing this; still, there seems no

injustice in adding that, in ranging himself under the banner of the

great commoner’s great son, he thought of his own personal prospects as

well as of the public interests.

Mr. Pitt died; Mr. Canning was, as he declared himself, henceforth

without a leader. Some of his opinions inclined him to unite with his

early friends and recent opponents (the Whigs), who then came into

office; and this, it seems, he was on the point of doing, when, by a

sudden whirl of Fortune’s wheel, the persons he was seceding from were

jerked into power, and those he was about to join jerked out of it. A

young man, conscious of his own abilities, and satisfied in his own

mind that, however he might obtain influence, he would use it for the

public advantage, he did not refuse a high situation from the party

to which he still publicly belonged, in order to follow a party just

driven from the Administration, and with which he had but begun to

treat.

There are things to say in excuse of this conduct, and I have said

them; but no one who wishes that Mr. Canning’s life had been without a

flaw, can do otherwise than regret that the statesman who made so many

subsequent sacrifices for the Catholics, should have joined, at this

juncture, a Ministry which rallied its partisans under the cry of “No

Popery!”

It is likewise to be regretted that having so frequently expressed his

sense of the incapacity of Lord Castlereagh, he should nevertheless

have consented first to serve as a subordinate under him when he was

mismanaging foreign affairs; and, secondly, to serve as a colleague

with him when he was alike lowering us abroad and misgoverning us at

home.

During four years he did not shrink from the promulgation of any

arbitrary edict--from the suppression of any popular right; and though

I admit that many liberal and prudent persons (influenced, I cannot

but think, by most exaggerated apprehensions) considered that the

strongest measures were necessary at that time to control a spirit

of insurrection, which the mingled harshness and incapacity of the

ruling Administration had provoked; still, there is a great difference

between men who sanction bad laws which a bad government, in which

they have had no share, may render momentarily necessary, and men who

bring forward bad laws as the result of a bad government which has been

carried on by themselves.

It is hardly an excuse to say his errors were committed in an inferior

situation, with the idea of rising to a commanding one; but, at all

events, when he reached the eminence towards which he had so long been

toiling, he made, as I have shown, the best use of that power which had

not always been sought for by the best means. Thus, from first to last,

we see a man anxious to have power and to use it well; but as anxious

to have it as to use it well. That he was blamed and praised with

exaggeration was natural; for amidst confronting arrays he was seen

for ever in the first rank with the most glittering arms, exciting the

admiration of friends and the hatred of foes by his scornful air and

ostentatious attitude of defiance.

His talents, by nature showy, were given their peculiar turn by his

early education, and his career was shaped to the paths which offered

to lead him most easily to distinction. Trained to the juvenile task of

writing a foreign language in polished periods, he was at times less

anxious to find solid arguments than striking expressions. Not brought

up in communication with the uneducated classes, he was more keenly

alive to the opinion of the cultivated and refined. Too accommodating

as to the temporary suspension of national freedom at home, he was

constantly anxious and determined to maintain the power and prestige of

the country abroad--throughout his whole life he exhibited the effects

of the public school and the close borough.

Like most men who have become illustrious, Mr. Canning owed much to

fortune. Lucky in the time of his decease, lucky in the times at which

many of those with whom he had hitherto acted deserted him. If he had

lived longer, it would have been difficult for him to have kept the

station to which he had risen: if he had not been left when he was by a

great portion of his party, he would never have obtained the popularity

by which his death was hallowed. To few has it happened to be supported

by a set of men just as long as their support was useful,--to be

quitted by them just when their alliance would have been injurious. The

persons who as friends gave Mr. Canning power, as enemies conferred on

him reputation. That reputation was above all others, at the time of

his demise, amongst his countrymen and contemporaries; and it still

retains its predominance, though the influence which he exercised over

our domestic policy, and over the events which succeeded his death,

is not yet, perhaps, sufficiently recognised. I have already observed

that if he had not been Prime Minister in 1827, it is not likely that

Lord Grey would have been Premier in 1830. I may add that had not his

appointment at the former period brought together all the elements

of a great Liberal party, who were allied under the cry of Catholic

Emancipation, thus giving a hope and a spirit to the Catholics which

they had not previously possessed, the Duke of Wellington would not

within a year or two afterwards have been forced to acknowledge that

further resistance to them was impossible. Furthermore, if such men

as Lord Melbourne, Lord Palmerston, the Grants, and a large party in

the country looking up to these statesmen as safe as well as liberal

guides--had not been already connected with the Whigs, and alienated

from the Tories, under the influence of Mr. Canning in 1827, the Reform

Bill would hardly have been proposed in 1830, and would certainly not

have been carried in 1832. The more minutely, in short, that we examine

the events of the last thirty-six years, the more we shall perceive how

much their quiet development has been owing to Mr. Canning, and to the

class of men whom Mr. Canning formed, and in his later days represented.

In determining his merits as director of the foreign policy of Great

Britain, I have stood, I confess, by the old doctrines, and argued upon

the assumption that England is a great state, disposed to maintain

that greatness; that the English people is a proud, generous, and

brave people, prepared to assert its principles and its position,

and to assume its part in the affairs of the world--a nation that

takes its share in the general policy of nations--that feels it has a

common interest in the maintenance of justice, in the limitation of

unscrupulous ambition, in the progress of civilization. I have supposed

that the collective wisdom and experience of past ages, have taught us

that human nature is ever, though under different forms, guided by the

same rules; that the strong, unless they are adequately restrained,

insult and oppress, and finally vanquish the weak; that those who under

all circumstances are determined to be at peace, become eventually the

certain victims of aggression and war; that the spirit of a people

cannot with impunity be allowed to droop and languish without dimming

the brightness of its genius and losing the force of its character.

That a mere money-making population, which, lapped in the luxury of

commercial prosperity, begins to disregard its nice sense of honour,

its admiration for valour and daring, becomes daily weaker against the

spoiler, and a greater temptation to spoliation. I have ventured to

believe that a noble people has a heart open to noble emotions--that

such a heart is not dead to pity for the unfortunate, to sympathy with

the brave--to the love of glory inspiring to great deeds, and to the

love of power, with the intention to use it for the public good. I do

not think it wise to exchange the principles of action derived from

these sentiments for a colder, less generous, and, as I feel convinced,

a less sound code of political philosophy. The same sentiments which

make one man considered and beloved above others, must distinguish the

State aspiring to be great and beloved; but it does not follow that

if you feel compassion for a drowning man, you are to plunge into the

sea to save him if you cannot swim; that if you see two men valiantly

struggling against two regiments, you are to rush into the middle of

the combat with the certainty of not vanquishing the assailants, and

with that of losing your own life. I condemn nations that interfere

needlessly with the international affairs of others, as I should the

lady who pretended to dictate to her neighbour how she should have her

drawing-room swept, or her chimneys cleaned. I condemn governments

which threaten heedlessly, and then fail to strike in spite of

their threats; but I esteem governments which look carefully after

their honour and interests, and do interfere when it is necessary

or expedient to do so, in order either to defend that honour, or to

maintain those interests; governments cautious to speak, but bold in

acting up to their words.

It is with these views that I look upon the foreign policy of Mr.

Canning,--a policy for giving England a great and proud position,--for

giving to Englishmen a glorious and respected name; for safeguarding

our shores by the universal prestige of our bravery and our power;

for limiting the ambition of rival states, without needlessly

provoking their animosity; for showing a wish to conciliate wherever

moderation is displayed, and for displaying a resolution to resist

when conciliation is repulsed--as a great English policy, with which

the people of England will ever sympathize, and by which the permanent

interests of England will best be preserved.

There are men who are anxious for civil commotion, which they think

may be more easily brought about by concentrating the public mind

on domestic grievances; there are men who are indifferent to the

pride of country--who would as soon be Portuguese, Mexicans, or

Moldo-Wallachians, as Englishmen. There are men who, though fame and

consideration are the great objects of their countrymen, hold they

ought not to be objects for their country. These will repudiate my

opinion. But every Briton who is justly proud of his race, who will

inquire from a small and despised state the value of being a great and

renowned one, will, I believe, recognise the foreign policy I have

been describing to be the true policy for maintaining the dignity and

authority, without rashly risking the peaceful prosperity, of the

British empire.

In person Mr. Canning was favoured by nature, being of a good height,

of a strong frame, and of a regular and remarkably intelligent

countenance. The glance of his eye when excited, and the smile of his

lip when pleased, were often noted by his contemporaries.

“And on that turtle I saw a rider,

A goodly man, with an eye so merry,

I knew ’twas our foreign secretary,

Who there at his ease did sit and smile

Like Waterton on his crocodile;

Cracking such jokes, at every motion,

As made the turtle squeak with glee,

And own that they gave him a lively notion

Of what his own forced-meat balls would be.”

_A Dream of a Turtle._--T. MOORE.

Charming in manner, as I have said, constant in attachments, it was

observed of him at one period, that he was as dear to his friends as

odious to the public.[125]

Ever ready to praise his subordinates, and to consult the tastes of his

associates, he was honoured as a chief as much as he was relished as a

companion. His accomplishments were various, and of a kind which may

leave disputes open as to the degree of their excellence, but they were

all of that brilliant and genial description which was sure to attract

sympathy and procure reputation. How many must have chuckled over the

following light and lazy piece of satire:

“I am like Archimedes for science and skill,

I am like the young prince who went straight up the hill;

And to interest the hearts of the fair be it said,

I am like a young lady just bringing to bed.

If you ask why the eleventh of June I remember

So much better than April, or March, or December,

’Tis because on that day, as with pride I assure ye,

My sainted progenitor took to his brewery.

On that day in the month he began making beer;

On that night he commenced his connubial career.

On that day he died when he had finished his summing,

And the angels all cried ‘here’s old Whitbread a coming.’

So that day I still hail with a smile and a sigh,

For his beer with an _e_ and his bier with an _i_;

And that day every year, in the hottest of weather,

The whole Whitbread family dine altogether.

My Lords, while the beams of the hall shall support

The roof which o’ershades this respectable court

(Where Hastings was tried for oppressing the Hindoos),

While the rays of the sun shall shine in these windows

My name shall shine bright as my ancestor’s shines,

Emblazoned on journals as his upon signs.”

How many must have felt their minds respond and their hearts bound at

the following argumentative and spirited declamation:

“When the elective franchise was conceded to the Catholics of Ireland,

that acknowledgment and anticipation, which I now call upon the House

formally to ratify and realize, was, in point of fact, irrevocably

pronounced. To give the latter the elective franchise was to admit him

to political power; for, to make him an elector and at the same time to

render him incapable of being elected, is to attract to our sides the

lowest orders of the community, at the same time that we repel from us

the highest orders of the gentry. This is not the surest or safest way

to bind Ireland to the rest of the Empire in ties of affection. And

what is there to prevent our union from being wrought more closely? Is

there any moral--is there any physical obstacle? _Opposuit natura?_

No such thing. _We have already bridged the channel!_ Ireland now

sits with us in the Representative Assembly of the Empire; and when

she was allowed to come there, why was she not also allowed to bring

with her some of her Catholic children? For many years, alas! we have

been erecting a mound, not to assist or improve the inclinations of

Providence, but to thwart them. We have raised it high above the

waters, and it has stood there frowning hostility and effecting a

separation. In the course of time, however, chance and design--the

necessities of man and the sure workings of nature--have conspired

to break down this mighty structure, till there remains of it only a

narrow isthmus standing

‘between two kindred seas,

Which mounting view each other from afar,

And long to meet.’

What, then, shall be our conduct? Shall we attempt to repair the

breaches, and fortify the ruins? A hopeless and ungracious undertaking!

or shall we leave them to moulder away by time and accident? a sure but

distant and thankless consummation! Or shall we not rather cut away at

once the isthmus that remains, allow free course to the current which

our artificial impediments have constructed, and float upon the mighty

waters the ark of our common constitution?”

And we are now to be told that this same man, so playful and jocose,

so ornamented and brilliant, was a close arguer, and indefatigable

in attendance at his office. But though always ready for business,

he would not scruple to introduce a piece of drollery into the most

serious affairs. For instance:

The embassy at the Hague is in earnest dispute with the King of

Holland; a despatch addressed to Sir Charles Bagot arrives--it is in

cypher. The most acute of the attachés set to work to discover the

meaning of this particular document; they produce a _rhyme_! they are

startled, thrown into confusion; set to work again, and produce another

rhyme. The important paper (and it was important) contains something

like the following doggrel:

“Dear Bagot, in commerce the fault of the Dutch

Is giving too little, and asking too much,

So since on this policy Mynheer seems bent,

We’ll clap on his vessels just 20 per cent.”

As a specimen of his more private and trivial pleasantries may be

mentioned his observation to, I believe, Lord Londonderry, who had been

telling a story of some Dutch picture he had seen, in which all the

animals of antediluvian times were issuing from Noah’s Ark, “and,” said

Lord Londonderry, “the elephant was last.” “That of course,” said Mr.

Canning; “he had been packing up his trunk.”

In his celebrated contest with Lord Lyndhurst (then Sir John Copley),

that noble lord having appeared in it with a speech borrowed for the

most part from a popular pamphlet, written by the late Bishop of Exeter

(then Doctor Philpotts), he was overthrown amidst shouts of laughter,

by the appropriate recollection of the old song:

“‘Dear Tom, this brown jug that now foams with mild ale,

Out of which I now drink to sweet Nan of the Yale,’

Was once _Toby Philpot_.”

Again, who does not remember the celebrated sketch of Lord

Nugent[126]--who went out to join the Spanish patriots when their cause

was pretty well lost--a sketch which furnished Mr. Canning’s most

effective defence of the neutral policy he had adopted towards Spain,

during the French expedition.

“It was about the middle of last July that the heavy Falmouth

coach”--(here Mr. Canning was interrupted with loud and continued

laughter)--“that the heavy Falmouth coach was observed travelling

to its destination through the roads of Cornwall with more than its

wonted gravity (very loud laughter). The coach contained two inside

passengers--the one a fair lady of no inconsiderable dimensions, the

other a gentleman who was conveying the succour of his person to

the struggling patriots of Spain. I am further informed--and this

interesting fact, sir, can also be authenticated--that the heavy

Falmouth van (which honourable gentlemen, doubtless, are aware is

constructed for the conveyance of cumbrous articles) was laden, upon

the same memorable occasion, with a box of most portentous magnitude.

Now, sir, whether this box, like the flying chest of the conjuror,

possessed any supernatural properties of locomotion, is a point which

I confess I am quite unable to determine; but of this I am most

credibly informed--and I should hesitate long before I stated it to

the House, if the statement did not rest upon the most unquestionable

authority--that this extraordinary box contained a full uniform of a

Spanish general of cavalry, together with a helmet of the most curious

workmanship; a helmet, allow me to add, scarcely inferior in size to

the celebrated helmet in the castle of Otranto (loud laughter). Though

the idea of going to the relief of a fortress, blockaded by sea and

besieged by land, in a full suit of light horseman’s equipments was,

perhaps, not strongly consonant to modern military operations, yet when

the gentleman and his box made their appearance, the Cortes, no doubt,

were overwhelmed with joy, and rubbed their hands with delight at the

approach of the long-promised aid. How the noble lord was received, or

what effects he operated on the councils of the Cortes by his arrival,

I (Mr. Canning) do not know. Things were at that juncture moving

rapidly to their final issue; and how far the noble lord conduced to

the termination by throwing his weight into the sinking scale of the

Cortes, is too nice a question for me just now to settle.”[127]

Mr. Canning’s wit, it is true, was not unfrequently too long and too

laboured, and a happy combination of words would almost always seduce

him into an indiscretion. The alliteration of “revered and ruptured,”

as applied to the unfortunate Mr. Ogden, cost him more abuse, and

procured him for a time more unpopularity, than the worst of his acts

ever deserved. His description of the American navy (in 1812) as “half

a dozen fir-frigates, with bits of bunting flying at their heads,”

excited the American nation more than any actual grievance, and caused

in a great measure the bitterness of that contest in which we were so

insolent and so unsuccessful. His propensity to jokes made him also

many enemies in private life. The late Duke of Bedford told a friend of

mine that Mr. Canning, when staying with a party at Lord Carrington’s

(a few weeks after Lord C. had been made a peer by Mr. Pitt), wrote in

chalk, on the outside of the hall-door, the following lines:--

“One Bobby Smith lives here,

Billy Pitt made him a peer,

And took the pen from behind his ear.”

This unnecessary impertinence, I have heard, Lord Carrington never

forgave.

In the art of speaking, our orator’s progress, like that of Pulteney,

Fox, and all our great parliamentary debaters, with the exception of

the two Pitts, Bolingbroke, and Lord Derby, was slow and gradual;

and though I have heard Lord Lansdowne (once known as Henry Petty)

observe that he considered Canning in his best days even more effective

than Fox or Pitt, he had at an earlier period been often accused, by

no mean judges, now of being wordy and tedious, now of being rather

elegant than argumentative. To time, practice, a proud spirit, and

a continually developing understanding, he owed his triumph over

these defects. Then it was that his eloquence approached almost to

perfection, as we consider the audience, half lounging and sleepy, half

serious and awake, to which it was addressed. Quick, easy, and fluent,

frequently passionate and sarcastic, now brilliant and ornamented,

then again light and playful; or, if he wished it, clear, simple, and

incisive; no speaker ever combined a greater variety of qualities,

though many have been superior in each of the excellences which he

possessed. Remarkable as a general rule for the polish of his language

(we have proof, even to the last, of the pains he bestowed upon it),

those who knew him well assert that he would sometimes purposely frame

his sentences loosely and incorrectly, in order to avoid the appearance

of preparation. “Erat memoriæ nulla tamen meditationis suspicio.” His

action exhibiting when calm an union of grace and dignity, became,

as he warmed, unaffectedly fervent; and made natural by its vigour

and animation the florid language and figurative decorations in which

he rather too fondly indulged. His arguments were not placed in that

clear, logical form, which sometimes enchains, but more often wearies,

attention; neither did he use those solemn perorations by which it is

attempted to instil awe or terror into the mind. His was rather the

endeavour to charm the ear, to amuse the fancy, to excite the feelings,

to lead and fascinate the judgment; and in these different attributes

of his great art he succeeded in the highest degree, insomuch that

though he might be said to want depth and sublimity, the faculties he

possessed were elevated to such a pitch, that at times he appeared both

profound and sublime.

A great merit, which he finally possessed, was that of seizing and

speaking the general sense of the popular assembly he addressed. Sir

Robert Peel, his distinguished rival, told me one day, in speaking of

Mr. Canning as to this particular, that he would often before rising

in his place, make a sort of lounging tour of the House, listening to

the tone of the observations which the previous debates had excited, so

that at last, when he himself spoke, he seemed to a large part of his

audience to be merely giving a striking form to their own thoughts.

Neither were his despatches, though not so elaborately perfect as

those of his successor (Lord Dudley), inferior to his orations;

possessing precision, spirit, and dignity, they remain what they were

justly called by no incompetent authority, “models and masterpieces of

diplomatic composition.”[128]

There are critics who have said that there was something in his

character which tended to diminish our respect for his talents, though

it softened our censure for his defects. And it is true that the same

unstately love for wit--the same light facility for satire--the same

imprudent levity of conduct, that involuntarily lowered our estimate of

his graver abilities--involuntarily led us to excuse his graver errors.

We at one time blame the statesman for being too much the child--at

another we pardon the veteran politician in the same humour in which we

would forgive the spoiled and high-spirited schoolboy.

Mr. Canning, indeed, was always young. The head of the sixth form

at Eton--squibbing “the doctor,” as Mr. Addington was called;

fighting with Lord Castlereagh; cutting jokes on Lord Nugent; flatly

contradicting Lord Brougham; swaggering over the Holy Alliance; he was

in perpetual personal quarrels--one of the reasons which created for

him so much personal interest during the whole of his parliamentary

career. Yet out of those quarrels he nearly always came glorious and

victorious--defying his enemies, cheered by his friends--never sinking

into an ordinary man,--though not a perfect one.

No imaginative artist, fresh from studying his career, would sit down

to paint this minister with the broad and deep forehead--the stern

compressed lip--the deep, thoughtful, concentrated air of Napoleon

Bonaparte. As little would the idea of his eloquence or ambition

call to our recollection the swart and iron features--the bold and

haughty dignity of Strafford. We cannot fancy in his eye the volume

depth of Richelieu’s--the volcanic flash of Mirabeau’s--the offended

majesty of Chatham’s. Sketching him from our fancy, it would be as a

few still living remember him, with a visage rather marked by humour

and intelligence than by meditation or sternness; with something of

the petulant mingling in its expression with the proud; with much of

the playful overruling the profound. His nature, in short, exhibited

more of the genial fancy and the quick irritability of the poet who

captivates and inflames an audience, than of the inflexible will of the

dictator who puts his foot on a nation’s neck, or of the fiery passions

of the tribune who rouses a people against its oppressors.

Still, Mr. Canning, such as he was, will remain one of the most

brilliant and striking personages in our historical annals. As a

statesman, the latter passages of his life cannot be too deeply

studied; as an orator, his speeches will always be models of their

kind; and as a man, there was something so graceful, so fascinating,

so spirited in his bearing, that even when we condemn his faults,

we cannot avoid feeling affection for his memory, and a sympathetic

admiration for his genius.

SIR ROBERT PEEL.

PART I.

Family.--Birth.--Formation of character.--Education at Harrow

and Oxford.--Entry into Parliament.--Line adopted there.--Style

of speaking.--Becomes Secretary of Colonies.--Secretary for

Ireland.--Language on the Catholic question.--Returned as

member for the University of Oxford.--Resigned his post in

Ireland.

I.

The family of the Peels belonged to the class of yeomanry, which in

England, from the earliest times, was well known and reputed, forming

a sort of intermediate link between the gentry and the commonalty, as

the gentry formed an intermediate link between the great barons and

the burghers or wealthy traders. The yeoman was proud of belonging to

the yeomanry, and if you traced back the descent of a yeoman’s family,

you found it frequently the issue of the younger branch of some noble

or gentle house. For some generations this family of Peel had at its

head men of industry and energy, who were respected by their own class,

and appeared to be gradually rising into another. The grandfather of

the great Sir Robert inherited a small estate of about one hundred

pounds a year, called Peel’s Fold, which is still in the family. He

received a fair education at a grammar-school, and married (1747) into

a gentleman’s family (Haworth, of Lower Darwen).

Beginning life as a farmer of his little property, he undertook, at

the time that the cotton manufacture began to develop itself in

Lancashire, the business of trader and printer.

The original practice had been to send up the fabricated article to

Paris, where it was printed and sent back into this country for sale.

Mr. Peel started a calico printing manufactory, first in Lancashire

and afterwards in Staffordshire, and his success was the result of the

conviction--that “a man could always succeed if he only put his will

into the endeavour,” a maxim which he often repeated in his later days,

when as a stately old gentleman he walked with a long gold-headed cane,

and wore the clothes fashionable for moderate people in the days of Dr.

Johnson.

The first Sir Robert Peel was a third son. Enterprising and ambitious,

he left his father’s establishment, and became a junior partner in

a manufactory carried on at Bury by a relation, Mr. Haworth, and

his future father-in-law, Mr. Yates. His industry, his genius, soon

gave him the lead in the management of this business, and made it

prosperous. By perseverance, talent, economy, and marrying a wealthy

heiress--Miss Yates, the daughter of his senior partner--he had amassed

a considerable fortune at the age of forty.

He then began to turn his mind to politics, published a pamphlet on

the National Debt, made the acquaintance of Mr. Pitt, and got returned

to Parliament (1790) for Tamworth, where he had acquired a landed

property, which the rest of his life was passed in increasing. He was

a Church and King politician in that excitable time, and his firm

contributed no less than ten thousand pounds in 1797 to the voluntary

subscriptions for the support of the war. So wealthy and loyal a

personage was readily created a baronet in 1800.

His celebrated son was born in 1788, two years before he himself

entered public life, and on this son he at once fixed his hopes of

giving an historical lustre to the name which he had already invested

with credit and respectability.

II.

It was the age of great political passions, and of violent personal

political antipathies and partialities. The early elevation of Mr. Pitt

from the position of a briefless barrister to that of prime minister

had given a general idea to the fathers of young men of promise and

ability that their sons might become prime ministers too. The wealthy

and ambitious manufacturer soon determined, then, that his boy, who was

thought to give precocious proofs of talent, should become First Lord

of the Treasury. He did not merely bring him up to take a distinguished

part in politics, which might happen to be a high position in

opposition or office, he brought him up especially for a high official

position. It was to office, it was to power, that the boy who was to be

the politician was taught to aspire; and as the impressions we acquire

in early life settle so deeply and imperceptibly into our minds as to

become akin to instincts, so politics became instinctively connected

from childhood in the mind of the future statesman with office; and he

got into the habit of looking at all questions in the point of view in

which they are seen from an official position; a circumstance which it

is necessary to remember.

To say nothing of the anecdotes which are told in his family of the

early manifestations which Mr. Peel gave of more than ordinary ability,

he was not less distinguished at Harrow as a student for his classical

studies, than he was as a boy for the regularity of his conduct. I

remember that my tutor, Mark Drury, who, some years previous to my

becoming his pupil, had Peel in the same position, preserved many of

his exercises; and on one occasion brought some of them down from

a shelf, in order to show me with what terseness and clearness my

predecessor expressed himself, both in Latin and English.

Lord Byron says: “Peel, the orator and statesman that was, or is, or is

to be, was my form-fellow, and we were both at the top of our remove,

in public school phrase. We were on good terms, but his brother was my

intimate friend. There were always great hopes of Peel amongst us all,

masters and scholars, and he has not disappointed them. As a scholar,

he was greatly my superior; as a declaimer and actor, I was reckoned

at least his equal; as a schoolboy out of school, I was always in

scrapes--he never.” This character as a lad developed itself, without

altering in after life.

At the University of Oxford the young man was the simple growth of the

Harrow boy. He read hard, and took a double first-class, indicating the

highest university proficiency both in classics and mathematics. But it

is remarkable that he studiously avoided appearing the mere scholar: he

shot, he boated, he dressed carefully, and, without affecting the man

of fashion, wished evidently to be considered the man of the world.

As soon as he became of age, his father resolved to bring him into

Parliament, and did so, in 1809, by purchasing a seat for him at Cashel.

III.

The great men of the Pittite day were passing away. The leading men at

the moment were Grey, Liverpool, Petty, Perceval, Tierney, Whitbread,

Romilly, Horner, Castlereagh, Canning: the genius of Sheridan had still

its momentary flashes; and Grattan, though rarely heard, at times

charmed and startled the House of Commons by his peculiar manner and

original eloquence.

Brougham, Palmerston, Robinson, were Peel’s contemporaries. The Duke

of Portland was prime minister; Perceval, the leader of the House of

Commons; Canning, minister of foreign affairs; and Lord Castlereagh,

secretary of war. But this ministry almost immediately disappeared: the

Duke of Portland resigning, Lord Castlereagh and Canning quarrelling,

and Mr. Perceval, as prime minister, having to meet Parliament in 1810

with the disastrous expedition of Walcheren on his shoulders. Young

Peel, not quite twenty-two, was chosen for seconding the address, and

did so in a manner that at once drew attention towards him. He was

then acting as private secretary to Lord Liverpool, who had become

minister of war and the colonies. The condition of the Government was

but rickety: Lord Carnarvon carried against it a motion for inquiry

into the conduct and policy of the expedition to the Scheldt; and,

subsequently, it could only obtain a vote of confidence by a majority

of twenty-three, which, in the days of close boroughs, was thought

equivalent to a defeat. Peel spoke in two or three debates, not ill,

but not marvellously well; there was, in fact, nothing remarkable in

his style; and its fluency and correctness were more calculated to

strike at first than on repetition. He never failed, however, being

always in some degree beyond mediocrity.

In the meantime his business qualities became more and more

appreciated; and it was not long before he was appointed to the

under-secretaryship of the colonies.

It was no doubt a great advantage to him that the government he had

joined wanted ability.

Mr. Perceval’s mediocrity, indeed, was repulsive to men of

comprehensive views; but, on the other hand, it was peculiarly

attractive to men of narrow-minded prejudices. The dominant prejudice

of this last class--always a considerable one--was at this time an

anti-Catholic one; some denouncing Romanists as the pupils of the

devil, others considering it sufficient to say they were the subjects

of the Pope. Mr. Peel joined this party, which had amongst it some

statesmen who, sharing neither the bigotry nor the folly of the

subalterns in their ranks, thought, nevertheless, that it would be

impossible to satisfy the Catholics in Ireland without dissatisfying

the Protestants in England, and were therefore against adding to the

strength of a body which they did not expect to content.

IV.

Mr. Perceval’s unexpected death was a great blow to the anti-Catholics,

and appeared likely to lead to the construction of a new and more

liberal Cabinet. The general feeling, indeed, was in favour of a

Cabinet in which the eminent men of all parties might be combined;

and a vote in favour of an address to the Regent, praying him to take

such measures as were most likely to lead to the formation of a strong

administration, passed the House of Commons.

But it may almost be said that eminent men are natural enemies, who can

rarely be united in the same Cabinet, and are pretty sure to destroy or

nullify each other when they are. The attempt at such an union was, at

all events, on this occasion a signal failure.

Thus, luckily for the early advancement of Mr. Peel, Lord Liverpool had

to construct a government as best he could out of his own adherents,

and the under-secretary of the colonies rose at once to the important

position of Secretary for Ireland, to which the Duke of Richmond, a man

more remarkable for his joviality than his ability, and a strenuous

anti-Catholic, was sent as Lord Lieutenant.

V.

The Catholic question was to be considered an open one in the new

Cabinet, but the Irish Government, as I have shown, was altogether

anti-Catholic. This was in fact the strong bias of the administration,

and also of the Prince Regent, who, regardless of former promises and

pledges, had now become an avowed opponent of the Catholic claims.

These claims, moreover, were strongly opposed by the feelings, at that

time greatly excited, of the English clergy, and, speaking generally,

of the English people.

Under such circumstances, a Catholic policy was at the moment

impracticable; that is, it could not be carried out: for to carry out

a policy opposed by the sovereign, opposed by the premier (who had been

selected because his most able opponents could not form a Cabinet),

opposed by the English clergy, opposed by the general sentiment of the

English people, was impracticable, whatever might be said theoretically

in its favour.

Mr. Peel then, in taking up the anti-Catholic policy, took up the

practical one.

The Catholics themselves, indeed, destroyed for a while all hope in

their cause, for when the most considerable of their supporters, in

order to dissipate the alarm of their co-religionists, proposed certain

guarantees for maintaining the authority of the King and the State over

the Catholic priesthood, although the English Catholics and the highest

orders of Catholics in Ireland willingly agreed to these guarantees,

the more violent of the Irish Catholics, with Mr. O’Connell at their

head, joining the most violent anti-Catholics, vehemently opposed them.

Moderate people were, therefore, crushed by the extremes. Even Grattan

was for a moment put on one side.

This was unfortunate for Mr. Peel, who would willingly have been as

moderate as his situation would permit him, but could only at such

a crisis live with violent people, and thus obtained the nickname

of “Orange Peel,” so that after different altercations with Mr.

O’Connell--altercations which nearly ended in a duel--he found himself,

almost in his own despite, regarded by both Protestants and Catholics

as the great Protestant champion.

It was in this position that he made, in 1817 (on an unsuccessful

motion of Mr. Grattan’s), a very remarkable speech, the success of

which Sir James Mackintosh attributes to its delivery.

“Peel,” he says, “made a speech of little merit, but elegantly and

clearly expressed, and so well delivered as to be applauded to excess.

He now fills the important place of spokesman to the intolerant

faction.”

The speech, however, had other merits than those Sir James

acknowledged, and I quote a passage which subsequently formed the

groundwork of all Mr. Peel’s anti-Catholic speeches.

“If you give them” (the Catholics) “that fair proportion of national

power to which their numbers, wealth, talents, and education will

entitle them, can you believe that they will or can remain contented

with the limits which you assign to them? Do you think that when they

constitute, as they must do, not this year or next, but in the natural,

and therefore certain order of things, by far the most powerful body

in Ireland--the body most controlling and directing the government

of it; do you think, I say, that they will view with satisfaction

the state of your church or their own? Do you think that if they are

constituted like other men, if they have organs, senses, affections,

passions, like ourselves; if they are, as no doubt they are, sincere

and zealous professors of that religious faith to which they belong; if

they believe your intrusive church to have usurped the temporalities

which it possesses; do you think that they will not aspire to the

re-establishment of their own church in all its ancient splendour? Is

it not natural that they should? If I argue from my own feelings, if I

place myself in their situation, I answer that it is. May I not then,

without throwing any calumnious imputations upon any Roman Catholics,

without proclaiming (and grossly should I injure them if I did) such

men as Lord Fingal or Lord Gormanston to be disaffected and disloyal,

may I not, arguing from the motives by which men are actuated, from

the feeling which nature inspires, may I not question the policy

of admitting those who must have views hostile to the religious

establishments of the State to the capacity of legislating for the

interests of those establishments, and the power of directing the

Government, of which those establishments form so essential a part?”

VI.

Have we not seen that every word I have been quoting is practically

true? Are we not beginning to acknowledge the difficulty of maintaining

a Protestant Church establishment in Ireland in the face of a large

majority of Irish Catholic representatives? Are we not beginning to

question the possibility of upholding an exclusive church belonging to

a minority, without a government in which that minority dominates? Do

we not now acknowledge the glaring sophistry of those who contended

that the Catholics having once obtained their civil equality would

submit with gratitude to religious inferiority? Mr. Peel saw and stated

the case pretty clearly as it stood; the whole condition of Ireland,

as between Catholic and Protestant, was involved in the question

of Catholic emancipation, and as the avowed champion of Protestant

ascendancy, he said, “do not resign your outworks as long as you can

maintain them, if you have any serious design to keep your citadel.”

But the very nature of his argument showed in the clearest manner

that we were ruling against the wishes and interests of the large

majority of the Irish people; that we were endeavouring to maintain an

artificial state of things in Ireland which was not the natural growth

of Irish society;--a state of things only to be maintained by force,

and which, the day that we were unable or unwilling to use that force,

tumbled naturally to pieces. It is well to bear this in mind.

The anti-Catholic party, however, accepted Mr. Peel’s argument;

they did not pretend to say that they governed by justice; and they

applauded their orator for showing that, whenever there was an attempt

to govern justly, as between man and man, and not unjustly, as between

Protestant and Catholic, their cause would be lost.

His reward was the one he most valued. Mr. Abbott, then Speaker,

represented the University of Oxford. Mr. Abbott was made a peer, and

Mr. Peel, through the interest of Lord Eldon and of the party that Sir

James Mackintosh calls the intolerant one, was elected in his place, in

spite of the well-known and favourite ambition of Mr. Canning.

With this result of his Irish administration Mr. Peel was satisfied.

All the duties attached to his place he had regularly and punctually

fulfilled. His life had been steady and decorous in a country where

steadiness and decorum were peculiarly meritorious because they

were not especially demanded. In all matters where administrative

talents were requisite he had displayed them: the police, still

called “Peelers,” were his invention. He protected all plans for

education, except those which, by removing religious inequalities and

animosities, and infusing peace into a discordant society, would have

furnished the best; and with a reputation increasing yearly in weight

and consideration, resigned his post, and escaped from a scene, the

irrational and outrageous contentions of which were out of harmony with

his character.

PART II.

Currency.--Views thereupon.--Chairman in 1859 of Finance

Committee.--Conduct as to the Queen’s trial.--Becomes Home

Secretary.--Improvement of police, criminal law, prisons,

&c.--Defends Lord Eldon, but guards himself against being

thought to share his political tendencies, and declares himself

in favour in Ireland of a general system of education for all

religions, and denounces any attempt to mix up conversion with

it.--Begins to doubt about the possibility of resisting the

Catholic claims.--The Duke of York dies, and Lord Liverpool

soon after follows.--Question of Premiership between the Duke

of Wellington and Mr. Canning.--Peel sides with the Duke of

Wellington.

I.

The great practical question at issue, on Mr. Peel’s return from

Ireland, was the currency.

The Bank, in 1797, declared, with the consent of the Government, that

its notes would not be converted, on presentation, into gold.

At the time this was, perhaps, a necessary measure. It enabled the

Bank to make large advances to the State, which it could not have

made otherwise, and without which the Government would have found it

difficult to maintain the struggle of life and death it was engaged

in. We did, in fact, in our foreign war, what the United States lately

did in their domestic war; but the commercial consequences of such a

measure were inevitable.

If the Bank gave a note convertible into gold on presentation it

gave gold: if it gave paper, which simply specified the obligation

to pay gold for it some day or other, the value of the note depended

on the credit attached to the promise. The promise to do a thing is

never entirely equivalent to doing it; consequently, it was utterly

impossible that a bank-note, not immediately convertible into gold,

could have precisely the same value as gold. Gold, therefore, would

have a value of its own, and a bank-note a value of its own. Moreover,

as the value of the bank-note depended on the faith placed in it, if it

had been merely required for home trade, the decrease in value would

have been small; because the English people had confidence in the

Bank of England and in the Government which sustained it; but in all

foreign transactions the case was different. If an English merchant

had to purchase goods on the Continent and he sent out bank-notes, the

merchant at St. Petersburg would have less confidence in the English

bank-note than the Manchester merchant, and he would therefore say,

“No, pay me in gold; or if you want to pay me in bank-notes, I will

only take them at the value I place on them.” In proportion, therefore,

to the extent of purchases abroad was the natural abasement of paper

money at home, and the increase in the value of gold as compared

with paper. Besides, paper money, resting on credit, partook of the

nature of the public funds, depending also on credit. As the one

fell naturally, in a long and critical war, so the other fell from

the same cause, though not in the same degree; all our dealings were

thus carried on in a money which had one real value and one nominal

one; and the real value depending, in a great measure, on matters

beyond our control. Efforts on the part of our legislature to sustain

it were useless. We forbade persons giving more for a guinea than

twenty-one shillings in paper money, and we forbade persons exchanging

a twenty-shilling bank-note for less than twenty shillings. We tried,

in short, to prevent gold and silver getting the same price in England

that they could get out of it.

The inevitable consequence was, that the precious metals, in spite of

stupid prohibitions against their exportation, went to those countries

in which it could obtain its real value. In this manner there was,

first, the transmission of coin for the maintenance of our armies;

secondly, its exportation for the purposes of our commerce; and,

lastly, its escape from the laws which deteriorated its value, all

operating to drain England of its gold and silver; and in proportion

as they became scarcer, their comparative value with paper increased,

insomuch that fifteen shillings in coin became at last equivalent to

twenty shillings in paper bank-notes.

Much was said as to the over-issue of bank-notes. It may always be

taken for granted that where there is an inconvertible paper, there is

an over-issue of bank-notes; because the over facility of having or

making money will naturally tend to the over-advance of it. But we must

remember, that a currency must be in proportion to the transactions

which require it; that our trade increased almost, if not quite, in

proportion to the increased issue from the Bank; that the absence of

coin necessitated a large employ of paper, and that there did not

appear to be that multitude of bubble schemes which are the usual

concomitants of a superabundant circulation. There were, in fact, quite

sufficient reasons, without attributing indiscretion to the Bank, to

account for the difference between its paper and the coin it was said

to represent; nor is there any possibility of keeping paper money on

an equality with metallic money, except by making the one immediately

exchangeable for the other.

The inequality, then, between paper money and metallic money could only

be remedied by re-establishing that immediate exchange. But this was

not an easy matter.

II.

For many years in England every transaction had been carried on in

paper. Individuals had borrowed money in it, and had received this

money in bank-notes. If they were called upon to repay it in gold, they

paid twenty-five per cent. beyond the capital they had received. On the

other hand, if individuals had purchased annuities, the seller, whether

the Government or an individual, had to pay them twenty-five per cent.

more than they had purchased.

The resumption of cash payments, therefore, could not take place

without great individual hardship and great public loss. There can be

no doubt, also, that paper money afforded great facilities for trade;

and that the sudden withdrawal of these facilities might be felt

throughout every class of the population.

Thus, although Mr. Horner brought the subject before the House of

Commons with great ability in 1811, it was not till 1819, when the war

had ceased, and the public mind in general had been gradually prepared

for terminating a situation which could not be indefinitely prolonged,

that the ministers intimated their intention to deal with it by the

appointment of a select committee, of which Mr. Peel was named the

chairman.

Up to this period, it is to be observed, the resumption of cash

payments could not have been carried; and up to this period Mr. Peel

and his father, who both voted against Mr. Horner, had opposed the

resumption. But the question was probably now ripe, so to speak,

for being dealt with. It was a matter, therefore, of practical

consideration, and Mr. Peel reconsidered it; and on the 20th of May it

was curious to see the venerable Sir Robert representing the ideas of

his time, and coming forward with a petition in favour of paper money;

and his son, the offspring of another epoch, rising, after the father

had sat down, to propose a measure by which paper money (I speak of

paper money not immediately convertible into gold) was to be abolished;

and avowing, as he said, “without shame and remorse,” a thorough change

of opinion.

His proposals compelled the Government to repay the sums which it owed

to the Bank, and compelled the Bank to resume cash payments at a date

which the Bank anticipated by resuming them in 1821.

Of the necessity of these measures there can be no doubt; at the same

time they were calculated, as I have said, to produce momentary

discontent and distress, and already much discontent and distress

existed.

There was, indeed, a dark period in our history to which I have already

alluded in these biographical sketches, but Peel (luckily for him)

was out of office during the greater portion of that gloomy time, and

never made himself prominent in it except once, when called upon as a

neighbour to defend the character of the magistrates on that day still

memorable, in spite of all excuses and palliations, as the day of the

“Manchester massacre.” He undertook and performed his very delicate

task on this occasion with tact and discretion. No one, indeed,

ever spoke in a less unpopular manner on an unpopular subject. Far

superior to Mr. Canning, in this respect, from that calm, steady, and

considerate tone which never gives offence, and which, laying aside the

orator, marks the statesman, he neither attempted to excite anger, nor

ridicule, nor admiration; but left his audience under the impression

that he had been performing a painful duty, in the fulfilment of which

he neither expected nor sought a personal triumph.

III.

From the proceedings against the Queen, which shortly followed (the

old King dying in 1820), he kept as much as possible aloof. On

one occasion, it is true, he defended the legal course which the

Ministry had adopted for settling the question of the Queen’s guilt

or innocence; but he blamed the exclusion of her Majesty’s name from

the litany; the refusal of a ship of war to bring her to England, and

of a royal residence on British soil; in short, he separated himself

distinctly from any scheme of persecution, manifesting that he would

not sacrifice justice to Royal favour.

The Government at this time was so weak, having suffered, even previous

to the Queen’s unfortunate business, which had not strengthened

it, several defeats, that Lord Liverpool saw the necessity of a

reinforcement, and, faithful to the system of a double-mouthed Cabinet,

took in Mr. Wynn (the representative of the Grenvilles), to speak in

favour of the Catholics, and Mr. Peel (as successor to Lord Sidmouth,

who gave up the Home Office, but remained in the ministry), to speak

against them.

The change, nevertheless, considerably affected the administration,

both as to its spirit and its capacity. The Grenvillites were liberal,

intelligent men generally, as well as with respect to the Catholics,

and Peel was generally liberal, though hostile to the claims of the

Catholic body.

Lord Sidmouth, at the Home Office, had moreover been a barrier against

all improvement. His career, one much superior to his merits, had been

owing to his having all George III.’s prejudices without George III.’s

acuteness. He was, therefore, George III.’s ideal of a minister, and

on this account had been stuck into every ministry, during George

III.’s lifetime, as a kind of “_King’s send_,” representing the Royal

mind. Uniting with Lord Eldon against every popular concession, and

supporting in a dry, disagreeable manner every unpopular measure, he

was as much hated as a man can be who is despised. Peel, at all events,

wished to gain the public esteem. His abilities were unquestioned.

He was much looked up to by his own party, much respected by the

opposing one; and, as it was known that Mr. Canning had at this time

engaged himself to accept the Governor-Generalship of India, every one

deemed that, if the Tories should remain in power, Peel would be Lord

Liverpool’s inevitable successor.

The moderate and elevated tone of his language, his indefatigable

attention to business, a certain singleness and individuality which

belonged to him, foreshadowed the premiership. Even the fact that his

father had, undisguisedly, intended him for this position, though the

idea was quizzed at Peel’s entry into public life, tended eventually

to predispose persons to accept it; for people become accustomed to

a notion that has been put boldly and steadily before them, and it is

rare that a man of energy and ability does not eventually obtain a

distinction for which it is known, during a certain number of years,

that he is an aspirant.

But one of those accidents which often cross the ordinary course of

human life--the sudden death of Lord Castlereagh and the appointment

of Mr. Canning as his successor--retained the Home Secretary in a

second-rate position, over which the great and marvellous success of

the new foreign secretary threw a certain comparative obscurity. He

was obliged, therefore, to be satisfied with continuing to pursue a

subordinate, but useful career, which might place him eventually in

men’s minds, side by side with his more brilliant competitor.

IV.

The subject to which he now particularly devoted himself was the most

useful that he could have chosen. We had at the time he entered office

a police that was notoriously inefficient; prisons, which by their

discipline and condition were calculated rather to increase crime than

to act as a corrective to it; and laws which rendered society more

criminal than the criminals it punished. One can scarcely, in fact,

believe that such men as Lord Eldon and Lord Ellenborough did not think

it safe to abolish the punishment of death in the case of privately

stealing six shillings in a shop; and it is with a shudder that one

reads of fourteen persons being hanged in London in one week in 1820,

and of thirty-three executions in the year 1822.

No one reflected whether the punishment was proportionate to the

offence; no one considered that the alleged criminal himself was a

member of the community, and had as much right to be justly dealt with

and protected against wrong as the community itself. Satisfied with

the last resort of hanging, the State neglected to take suitable

precautions against the committal of those acts which led to hanging;

nor did it seem a matter of moment to make places of confinement places

of reformation, as well as places of atonement. To Bentham, Romilly,

Mackintosh, Basil Montagu, and others, we owe that improvement in

the public mind which led finally to an improvement in our laws. Mr.

Peel had marked and felt this gradual change of opinion; and almost

immediately after he became invested with the functions of the Home

Department, he promised to give his most earnest attention to the state

of the police, the prisons, and the penal laws; a promise that, in the

four or five succeeding years, he honourably fulfilled; thus giving

to philanthropic ideas that practical sanction with men of the world,

which theories acquire by being taken up by men in power.

It is true that the country was, as I have observed, becoming desirous

for the changes that Mr. Peel introduced, and that he never advocated

them until, owing to the efforts of others, they had won their way

with the good and the thoughtful; but it is likewise true that, so

soon as they became practically possible, he took them up with zeal,

and carried them against a considerable and, as it was then deemed,

respectable opposition, which held fœtid dungeons, decrepid watchmen,

and a well-fed gallows to be essential appendages to the British

constitution.

During this time also he supported, though not conspicuously, the

liberal foreign policy of Mr. Canning, and the liberal commercial

policy of Mr. Huskisson. He kept, nevertheless, at the head of his own

section in the Ministry, as well by his consistent opposition to the

Catholic claims as by his defence of Lord Eldon, whose slowness in

the administration of justice and obstinate adherence to antiquated

doctrines were frequently the subject of attack. This remarkable man,

one of the many emanations of the Johnsonian mind which contrived

to make the most narrow-minded prejudices palatable to the most

comprehensive intellect, exercised great influence over the King, over

the older peers and members of the House of Commons, and over that

large mass of uncertains that rallies round a man who entertains no

scruples and doubts. Mr. Peel took care, however, not to pass for a

mere follower of Lord Eldon, nor a mere bigot of the ultra-Protestant

party. In defending and lauding the great judge and lawyer, he said

expressly: “The House will remember I have nothing to do on this

occasion with the political character of the Lord Chancellor:” and

again, in discussing the question of proselytism and education, he

not only ridiculed the idea that some extravagant people entertained

of making Catholic Ireland Protestant, but stated in so many words,

“that he was for educating Catholics and Protestants together under one

common system, from which proselytism should be honestly and studiously

excluded.” His conduct on this occasion merited particular attention.

The great difficulty which he foresaw in passing Catholic emancipation

was the hostile feeling between Catholics and Protestants. If that

feeling was removed, and a common education secured--the best mode of

modifying or removing it--the practical and political objections to

Catholic emancipation ceased.

V.

The fact is that even as early as 1821, when he answered a speech from

Mr. Plunkett, which he once told me was the finest he ever heard, Mr.

Peel felt that the ground on which he had hitherto stood was shifting

from under him; that just as it had been impracticable to carry what

was called “Catholic emancipation” when he entered public life, so it

was becoming more and more impracticable to resist its being carried as

time advanced.

Such an impression naturally became stronger and stronger as he saw

distinguished converts, from Mr. Wellesley Pole, in 1812, down to

Mr. Brownlow, in 1825, going over to his opponents, whereas not a

single convert was made to the views he advocated. He might still

think that the hope of those who imagined that the Irish Catholics,

once admitted to Parliament, would rest satisfied with that triumph,

was chimerical: he might still think that the Irish Catholics would,

as a matter of course, insist upon equality in all respects with the

Protestants: he might still foresee that this equality, the Catholics

being the majority, would lead to superiority over the Protestants: he

might still believe that the Protestants, accustomed to domination,

and supported by property and rank, would not submit tranquilly to

numbers: he might contemplate the impossibility of maintaining a

Protestant Church establishment, absorbing all the revenue accorded

to religious purposes, with a Catholic representation which would

feel galled and humiliated by such a preference; and he might also

recognise the probability that the English Protestant clergy would take

part with the Irish Protestant clergy, and denounce as an atrocious

robbery what might be demanded as a simple act of justice: and yet,

retaining all his former convictions against the measure he was called

upon to agree to, he might feel that prolonged opposition would only

serve to protract a useless struggle, and be more likely to increase

the evils he foresaw than to prevent them. Such a consideration could

not but deeply affect his mind, and breathe over his conduct an air of

hesitation and doubt.

It is not surprising, therefore, that any one who reviews his

conduct attentively during the five or six years that preceded Lord

Liverpool’s retirement should find evident traces of this state of

thought. On one occasion he says: “No result of this debate can

give me unqualified satisfaction.” On another: “If I were perfectly

satisfied that concession would lead to perfect peace and harmony, if

I thought it would put an end to animosities, the existence of which

all must lament, I would not oppose the measure on a _mere theory_

of the constitution.” Just previous to the Duke of York’s celebrated

declaration that, “whatever might be his situation in life, so help him

God he should oppose the grant of political power to Roman Catholics,”

Peel says, on the third reading of the Catholic Relief Bill, which

had been carried in the House of Commons by a majority of twenty-one,

that he should record, perhaps for the last time, his vote against the

concessions that it granted.

This phrase, “_for the last time_,” much commented on at the time,

might have alluded to the possibility of the measure then under

discussion being carried; and it was generally believed that Mr. Peel

meditated at this time quitting office, and even Parliament, in order

not to prevent Lord Liverpool from dealing with a matter on which his

own opinions differed from those to which he thought it likely that the

Government would have to listen.

When, however, after the death of the Duke of York, and the illness

of Lord Liverpool, the question was whether he should desert or hold

fast to a cause which had lost its most powerful supporters; whether he

should abandon those with whom he had hitherto acted at the moment when

victory seemed almost certain to crown their opponents, or still range

himself under their banner, there was hardly a choice for an honourable

man, and he spoke as follows:

“The influence of some great names has been recently lost to the cause

which I support, but I have never adopted my opinions either from

deference to high station, or that which might more fairly be expected

to impress me--high ability. Keen as the feelings of regret must be

with which the loss of those associates in feeling is recollected, it

is still a matter of consolation to me that I have now the opportunity

of showing my attachment to those tenets which I formerly espoused, and

of showing that if my opinions are unpopular I stand by them still,

when the influence and authority which might have given them currency

is gone, and when I believe it is impossible that in the mind of any

human being I can be suspected of pursuing my principles with any view

to favour or personal aggrandizement.”

VI.

This speech had a double bearing. It said, as clearly as possible, that

the Catholic disabilities could not be maintained; but that the speaker

could not separate himself from those with whom he had hitherto acted

in opposing their removal.

The struggle was, in fact, then commencing between the Duke of

Wellington, backed by Lord Eldon on the one side, and Mr. Canning,

backed by the opponents of Lord Eldon on the other. The ground taken

for this struggle was the Catholic question; but I doubt whether it

could have been avoided if there had not been a Catholic question.

Mr. Canning had, especially of late, adopted a tone and manner of

superiority which Mr. Peel and Lord Eldon chafed at, and which the Duke

of Wellington could no longer brook. The constant interposition of Lord

Liverpool, who, by flattering alternately the great warrior and the

great orator, prevented an outbreak from either, had kept up apparent

harmony. But Lord Liverpool withdrawn, it was felt, both by the Duke of

Wellington and Mr. Canning, that the one or the other must be master.

As to Mr. Peel, he naturally saw that under Mr. Canning, both being in

the House of Commons, he would be comparatively insignificant, whereas,

as first lieutenant of the Duke of Wellington, the duke being in the

House of Lords, he was a person of considerable importance.

The determination of the Duke of Wellington not to serve under Mr.

Canning, and of Mr. Canning not to serve under the Duke of Wellington,

left no alternative but to act with one or the other.

Mr. Peel has been attacked for siding with the Duke of Wellington. But

was it to be expected that he should leave that section of the Ministry

where he was a chief to join another where he would be a subordinate?

What part could he play amidst Mr. Canning and his friends, joined by

a certain portion of the Whigs with whom he was a perfect stranger?

and for what public object was he called upon to make this private

sacrifice?

The settlement of the great question which agitated the Empire? No;

that was to be left in its actual state. The point at issue was not

whether an united Cabinet should be formed to settle the Catholic

question; but whether a mixed Cabinet should be formed, with the Duke

of Wellington or Mr. Canning at its head, leaving the Catholic question

unsettled. Let us suppose that some progress towards the settlement of

this question would have been made by the choice of Mr. Canning--which

is doubtful--this was a progress that would rather have kept up

agitation and not have stilled it.

There is, indeed, an immense difference between concurring with the

people with whom you have previously been acting in order to terminate

an affair, and an alliance which does not terminate the affair, with

persons whom you have previously been opposing. It would, I think, have

been easier for Mr. Peel to join Mr. Canning in an attempt to form a

Cabinet which should bring forward a Catholic Relief Bill, than to join

him in forming a cabinet on the same principles as those on which the

Duke of Wellington would have formed one.

I know that I do not give to these transactions the precise colour

given to them by Mr. Peel himself, and that he says, in a letter of the

19th April to Lord Eldon, that if he had thought as Mr. Canning did

on the Catholic question, or if Mr. Canning had thought as he did, he

would have served under Mr. Canning; but this is creating an imaginary

case in order to put a particular interpretation on a real one.

I believe, notwithstanding the pains taken to make a personal question

appear a public one, that the dispute as to the premiership was in

reality a personal one; but at the same time based on motives which if

personal were not dishonourable. At all events, Mr. Canning deemed Mr.

Peel’s conduct under all circumstances so natural that he was neither

surprised nor offended by it. Their partisans, as it always in such

cases happens, were bitter; and Mr. Peel has been much blamed for the

violence of his brother-in-law, Mr. Dawson. Every one, however, knows

the proverb, “Save me from my friends, and I will save myself from my

enemies!” and I have little doubt that so profound an axiom originated

in the wisdom of an experienced statesman. But Mr. Pitt had not been

able to temper Mr. Canning’s criticisms against Mr. Addington, and Mr.

Peel would have found it a still harder task to moderate the anger of

his _protégés_ against Mr. Canning.

It is useless dwelling longer on this epoch. Mr. Canning came

into power at the head of a Government composed of heterogeneous

materials, and closed his brilliant life without any solid advantages

having attended his momentary triumph. The attempt to continue his

administration without him was like that which had previously been made

to continue Mr. Fox’s ministry after the death of that great statesman.

In both cases the Government was the man.

PART III.

Fall of the Goderich ministry.--Formation of the Cabinet

under the Duke of Wellington.--Policy of that Cabinet.--Its

junction with Mr. Canning’s friends.--The secession of

these, and the defeat of Mr. Fitzgerald in the Clare

election.--Majority in the House of Commons in favour of

Catholic claims.--The Language of the House of Lords.--The

conviction now brought about in the mind of Mr. Peel, that

there was less danger in settling the Catholic claims than in

leaving them unsettled.--The effect produced by this conviction

on the administration.--The propositions brought forward in

consequence in Parliament.--Carrying of these propositions

through the two Houses.--Sir Robert Peel’s conduct and

sentiments throughout the discussion of the measure he had

advocated.

I.

Lord Goderich soon perished as premier because, though a clever and

accomplished man in a secondary place, he had not the indescribable

something which fits a man for a superior one: that which Mr. Peel

might fairly have anticipated, even had Mr. Canning lived, took place.

The section of the Tory party to which he belonged was recalled to

office. It is evident from the private correspondence which has since

been published that two plans were then discussed. One of these was

to form an administration excluding Lord Eldon, and excluding any

but those who had declared against Mr. Canning; the other was for an

administration which, excluding Lord Eldon, should comprise as many

of Mr. Canning’s partisans as would accept office. It is, moreover,

clear that Mr. Peel not only concurred in, but recommended the latter

course, notwithstanding the connection which had hitherto existed

between him and the Chancellor, a man whom it would be difficult to

comprehend if one did not remember that he was born under the sceptre

of Johnson, whose genius generated a class of men with minds like his

own, exhibiting the compatibility of the strongest prejudices with

an excellent understanding. Such a man is not to be spoken of with

contempt. He represented with force the epoch to which he belonged, but

that epoch was worn out. Loyalty to the House of Hanover and fidelity

to the Protestant Constitution had ceased to be the war cries of the

day; and even that spirit of firmness, energy, and consistency, which

characterised a large part of George III.’s reign, were beginning to be

replaced by a tone partly of indifference, partly of moderation, partly

of liberality, that to Lord Eldon was treachery and weakness. He was,

therefore, left out of the new Cabinet.

On the other hand, Mr. Lamb, Mr. Huskisson, Lord Dudley, Palmerston,

the Grants, were sought as associates. “What,” says Mr. Peel, “must

have been the fate of a Government composed of Goulburn, Sir J.

Beckett, Wetherall, and myself?… We could not have stood creditably a

fortnight.” Again: “I care not for the dissatisfaction of ultra-Tories.”

The Duke of Wellington, in recounting his interview with the King,

when the offer to form an administration was made to him, said: “The

Catholic question was not to be a Cabinet question; there was to be a

Protestant Lord Lieutenant, a Protestant[129] Lord Chancellor, and a

Protestant Chancellor in Ireland.” The Irish Government, however, with

Lord Anglesea as Lord Lieutenant, and Mr. Stanley as Secretary, was

neither in spirit nor in letter according to this programme; and the

change was attributable to Mr. Peel.

This was one of his most prosperous moments. His career had gone

on up to this time, gradually collecting round it those materials

out of which the character of a leading statesman is formed. There

was a quiet, firm regularity in the course he had followed that had

not won for him the cheers that wait on brilliant success, but had

secured for him a constant murmur of continued approbation. He had

never disappointed; whatever had been expected from him he had always

done. His devotion to public affairs was unremitting and unaffected;

they furnished not only his sole employment, but constituted his

sole amusement; his execution of the law, where he had to see to its

administration, was thoroughly upright and impartial. The changes which

had taken place in his opinions were towards a more liberal and, as it

was then beginning to be thought, a more practical policy in commerce,

a sounder system of banking, a milder code of penal legislation.

These changes had taken place in such a manner that they seemed

natural, and the result of a mind that did not submit itself to any

bias but that of reason. He had no longer to contend against his

brilliant and lamented rival; he was no longer burthened by a patron

who had been useful but had become inconvenient and out of date. He was

universally looked upon as a man of liberal tendencies, one subject

alone excepted. On that subject he shewed obstinacy or firmness, but

not bigotry. Would he now deal with it? Could he? Was it possible, with

the King and the Duke of Wellington against the Catholics, to satisfy

their hopes? Or was it possible, with a House of Commons almost equally

divided, to adopt such measures as would crush their expectations?

II.

There are situations which impose a policy on ministers who wish to

remain ministers--this was one. It was now necessary to “mark time,”

if I may use a military figure of speech, making as little dust as

possible. Mr. Peel tried to do so; dropping the Act against the

Catholic Association, which had been found wholly inefficient, and

endeavouring not to provoke agitation, though he could not quiet it.

In the meantime, the tendency of opinion against religious

disqualifications manifested itself on a motion of Lord John Russell,

introduced in a speech of remarkable power and ability, for removing

the Test and Corporation Acts. Mr. Peel had stated with emphasis,

during the administration of Mr. Canning, that he would always oppose

the repeal of these Acts, and he now did oppose it; but evidently with

the feeling that his opposition, which was weak, would be ineffectual.

A majority, indeed, of forty-four in the House of Commons declared

against him; and the Government then took up the measure and carried

it through both Houses. Mr. Peel, in his memoirs, gives as his reason

for this course, that if he had gone out of office he would have caused

great embarrassment in the conduct of affairs in general, and not

altered the disposition of Parliament as to the particular question

at issue; and that if he remained in office he was obliged to place

himself in conformity with the feeling of the House of Commons. Almost

immediately afterwards, that House pledged itself, by a majority of

six, to take the state of Ireland into consideration; and, though this

majority was overruled by an adverse one in the House of Lords, the

language of the Duke of Wellington and of Lord Lyndhurst, who both

admitted that things could not remain as they were, left little doubt

that a decided system of repression or concession was about to be

attempted, and that the latter system was the more likely one.

III.

Two events had occurred between the vote in the House of Commons in

favour of the resolution respecting the Catholics, and the vote in

the House of Lords against it, which events had, no doubt, exercised

great influence on the debate in the latter assembly. First, Mr.

Canning’s friends had somewhat abruptly quitted the Government under

the following circumstances:

East Retford had been disfranchised for corrupt practices. The question

was, what should be done with the two seats for that borough? All the

other members of the Government voted for leaving the seats to the

district in which East Retford was situated.

Mr. Huskisson alone gave his vote for transferring the right of

election to Birmingham; and on the very night of this vote (May 20th,

1828) tendered his resignation, which the Duke of Wellington accepted.

When the other members of the Canning party heard of Mr. Huskisson’s

hasty resignation, provoked, as he said, by the cross looks of some of

his colleagues on the Treasury Bench, they remonstrated with him on

his conduct, which rendered theirs very difficult, since they had not

voted as he had done. Mr. Huskisson tried to explain and retract his

resignation. But the Premier had a particular dislike to Mr. Huskisson,

who had shown too much desire for office, and gave himself too many

airs after getting it. He would not accept Mr. Huskisson’s excuses or

explanations; and his manner was thought altogether so unfriendly and

overbearing that Mr. Lamb, Mr. Charles Grant, Lord Palmerston, and Lord

Dudley quitted the Government with Mr. Huskisson. The second event to

which I have alluded was the consequence of the first.

IV.

The secession of the Canningites had rendered it necessary to fill

their places. Mr. Vesey Fitzgerald was selected to fill the place at

the Board of Trade vacated by Mr. Grant. This rendered necessary a new

election for Clare.

No axiom can be more true than that if you do not mean to have a door

forced open you should not allow the wedge to be inserted. It is

difficult to understand how George III. could permit the measure in

1798 which made Catholics electors, whilst he resolved never to grant

Catholics the right to be elected. At first the Catholic voters merely

chose Protestants, who promised to extend Catholic privileges when they

could do this without great injury to their own interests.

Mr. O’Connell determined on straining the power of Catholic votes

to the utmost. He first tried it in 1826, in Waterford, by combining

an opposition against the Protestant family of the Beresfords, who

had hitherto, from their large possessions, been all-powerful in

the county. But property availed nothing. The word was given, and

almost every tenant voted against his landlord. The Beresfords were

ignominiously defeated. The next trial was a more audacious one.

There was nothing in law to prevent a Catholic from being elected to

serve in Parliament; it was only on taking his seat in Parliament that

he was stopped by the parliamentary oath. Of all Protestants in Ireland

none were more popular, or had been more consistently favourable to

the Catholic cause, than Mr. Fitzgerald. His name, his fortune, his

principles, gave him every claim on an Irish Catholic constituency that

a Protestant could have. He felt himself so sure of being confirmed in

the seat he occupied that he prepared to meet his constituents without

the slightest fear of opposition.

But it was determined that a Catholic should be his opponent; and, in

order to prevent all doubt or hesitation amongst his followers, the

great agitator took the field himself. He was successful; and after Mr.

Fitzgerald’s defeat it was to be expected that a similar defeat awaited

sooner or later every other Protestant. This was a serious state of

things.

The Government was much weakened by the loss of the able men who had

left it, and at the same time the dangers that menaced it were greater

than they had ever been before.

Lord Anglesea, who was then, as I have stated, the Irish Viceroy, a

gallant soldier, and a man whose judgment was good, though his language

was indiscreet, declared loudly that there was no way of dealing with

the Catholic organization but by satisfying the Catholics.

The considerations which these various circumstances inspired decided

the mind, which as I have shown had been long wavering, of Mr. Peel;

and avowing it was no longer possible to resist the Catholic claims, he

thus speaks of his conduct at this juncture:

“In the interval between the discussion (he speaks of the interval

between the discussion in the Lower and Upper Houses of Parliament) I

had personal communication with the Duke of Wellington; I expressed

great reluctance to withdraw from him such aid as I could lend him

in the carrying on of the Government, particularly after the recent

schism; but I reminded him that the reasons which had induced me to

contemplate retirement from office in 1825, were still more powerful

in 1828, from the lapse of time, from the increasing difficulties in

administering the government in Ireland, and from the more prominent

situation which I held in the House of Commons.

“I told him that, being in a minority in the House of Commons on the

question that of all others most deeply affected the condition and

prospects of Ireland, I could not, with any satisfaction to my own

feelings or advantage to the public interests, perform the double

functions of leading the House of Commons and presiding over the Home

Department; that at an early period, therefore, my retirement must

take place. I expressed at the same time an earnest hope that in the

approaching discussion in the Lords, the Duke of Wellington might deem

it consistent with his sense of duty to take a course in debate which

should not preclude him, who was less deeply committed on the question

than myself, from taking the whole state of Ireland into consideration

during the recess, with the view of adjusting the Catholic question.”

After the prorogation of Parliament, the course to be adopted was

maturely considered.

Sir Robert Peel’s opinion was already made up. He argued thus:

“The time for half measures and mixed cabinets is gone by. We must

yield or resist. Can we resist? Is it practicable? I don’t mean so as

to keep things for a short time as they are. Can we resist effectually

by at once putting down the disturbers of the public peace, who connect

themselves with the Catholic cause? Can we get a ministry divided on

the Catholic question to put down efficiently an agitation in favour of

that question?

“If we go to a Parliament in which there is a majority in favour of the

Catholic claims, and ask for its support for the purpose of coercion,

will it not say it is cheaper to conciliate than coerce?

“It is of no use to consider what it would be best to do if it were

possible. Coercion is impossible.

“Well, then, we must concede what we can no longer refuse.”

His letters to the Duke of Wellington, given in his memoirs, speak

clearly in this sense:

“I have uniformly opposed what is called Catholic Emancipation, and

have rested my opinion on broad and uncompromising grounds. I wish

I could say that my views were materially changed, and that I now

believed that full concessions could be made either exempt from the

dangers I have apprehended from them, or productive of the full

advantages which their advocates anticipate from the grant of them.

“But whatever may be my opinion upon these points, I cannot deny

that the state of Ireland, under existing circumstances, is most

unsatisfactory; that it becomes necessary to make your choice between

different kinds and different degrees of evil--to compare the actual

danger resulting from the union and organization of the Roman Catholic

body, and the incessant agitation in Ireland, with prospective and

apprehended dangers to the constitution or religion of the country; and

maturely to consider whether it may not be better to encounter every

eventual risk of concession than to submit to the certain continuance,

or rather, perhaps, the certain aggravation of existing evils.”[130]

“I have proved to you, I hope, that no false delicacy, no fear of the

imputation of inconsistency, will prevent me from taking that part

which present dangers and a new position of affairs may require. I am

ready at any sacrifice to maintain the opinion which I now deliberately

give, that there is upon the whole less of evil in making a decided

effort to settle the Catholic question, than in leaving it as it has

been left--an open question.