Historical Characters

Part IV

Mr. O’Connell’s opposition in Ireland. – The general difficulties of the Government. – The policy it tried to pursue. – Its increasing unpopularity. – Its policy towards Don Miguel. – William IV.’s accession. – The Revolution in Paris. – The cry now raised in England for Reform. – The King’s opening speech on convocation of new Parliament. – The discontent against the Government it excited. – The Duke of Wellington opposed to any change in the Constitution. – Postponement of Lord Mayor’s dinner to the new Sovereign. – Impressions this created. – The Duke’s administration in a minority in the House of Commons. – His resignation. – Earl Grey’s appointment as Premier. – Personal description of Sir Robert Peel at this time. – The Reform Bill. – Sir Robert Peel’s conduct thereon. – Its success in the country. – The large majority returned by new elections in favour of it. – Its opposition in the House of Lords. – Lord Grey’s resignation and resumption of office. – The passing of his Reform Bill through both Houses.

I have said that Sir Robert Peel was proud of having made great sacrifices for a great cause. There can be little doubt that he had prevented a civil war in which many of the most eminent statesmen in England and all the eminent statesmen of foreign countries would have considered that the Irish Catholics were in the right. At the same time he did not derive from the course he had taken the hope which many entertained that all Irish feuds would henceforth cease, and that it would become easy to establish in Ireland the satisfaction and tranquillity that were found in other parts of our empire. He did, however, deem that if the great and crying cause of grievance, which had so long agitated and divided the public mind were once removed, there would be no powerful rallying cry for the disaffected, and that in any dangerous crisis the Government would find all reasonable men in Ireland and all men in England by its side.

He saw, however, more clearly than most people, and in fact it was this foresight that had made him so long the opponent of the measure which he had recently advocated, that to bring the Irish Catholics into Parliament was the eventual transfer of power from the Protestant to the Catholic.

The great policy would, no doubt, have been to accept at once this consequence in its full extent, and to have conciliated the Catholic majority, and the Catholic priesthood, by abandoning everything which under a Protestant ascendancy had been established. But no one was prepared for this. The Whigs would have opposed it as well as the Tories. The English Protestant Church would have made common cause with the Irish Protestant Church, – the English Protestants in general with the Irish Protestants. In short, it was not practicable at the moment on which our attention had been hitherto concentrated to do more for the Irish Catholics than had been done; and this was not likely, as Mr. Peel himself had said in 1817, to satisfy them: “We entered, therefore, inadvertently on a period of transition, in which a series of new difficulties were certain to be the result of the removal of the one great difficulty.” Under such circumstances, Mr. Peel conceived he had only to watch events; it was not in accordance with the natural tendency of his character to anticipate them, and to act in the different situations that might arise as a practical view of each particular situation might suggest.

He was right, no doubt, in considering that the Catholic Belief Bill would not realize the expectations of its most ardent supporters, and it must be added that the state of things amidst which it was passed was alone sufficient to destroy many of those expectations. Agitation had evidently obtained for Ireland what loyalty and forbearance had never procured; and though the fear to which our statesmen had yielded might be what Lord Palmerston asserted, “the provident mother of safety,” a concession to it, however wise or timely, gave a very redoutable force to the menacing spirit by which concession had been gained. That force remained with all its elements perfectly organized, and in the hands of a man whom it was equally difficult to have for a friend or an enemy. His violence shocked your more timid friends if he supported you, and encouraged your more timid enemies if he attacked you.

The Government, which had in reality yielded to him, did not wish to appear to have done so. It consequently provoked an altercation which it might as well have avoided. Mr. O’Connell had been returned for Clare, when by law he could not sit in Parliament, but when by law he could be elected. It was not unfair to say his election should not give him a seat in Parliament, because when he was elected he could not have a seat. But, on the other hand, it might be contended that, having been elected legally, he was entitled to take his seat when no legal impediment prevented it. The better policy would doubtless have been, not to fight a personal battle after having yielded in the public contest.

The Government, however, compelled Mr. O’Connell to undergo a new election; and considering this a declaration of war, he adopted a tone of hostility to the Ministry, far too extravagant to do them harm in England, but which added greatly to their difficulties in Ireland – where a thorough social disorganization rendered the Government impotent for the protection of property and life against robbery and murder, unless it could count amongst its allies patriotism and popularity themselves.

But besides the weakness of the Government in Ireland, it was generally weak, for it had lost by the change in its Irish policy much of its previous support, and could hardly hope to maintain itself any length of time without getting back former partisans, or drawing closer to new allies.

To regain friends whom you have once lost, owing to a violent difference on a great political principle, is an affair neither easily nor rapidly managed. It requires agreement on some question as important as that which created disagreement.

On the other hand, for the Tories, under the Duke of Wellington, to have coalesced with the Whigs, under Lord Grey, called for sacrifices on both sides too great to be accepted by either with honour or even propriety.

The Duke of Wellington and Mr. Peel tried, therefore, a moderate course. Detaching able men from the Whig ranks where they could secure them, carrying out administrative reforms, opposing constitutional changes, doing, in short, all which could be done to conciliate one party without further alienating another, and carrying on affairs, as in quiet times a despotic Government can do, even with credit and popularity. But a free Government rarely admits, for any lengthened period, of this even and tranquil course; it generates energies and passions that must be employed, and which concentrate in an opposition to the rulers who do not know how to employ them.

Some administrative improvements were nevertheless worthy of notice. The watchman’s staff was broken in the metropolis. The criminal code was still further improved, and punishment by death in cases of forgery partially abolished and generally discountenanced.

Taxes also were repealed, and savings boasted of. But the nation had become used to strong political excitement, and had a sort of instinct that the passing of the Roman Catholic Bill should be followed by some marked and general policy, analogous to the liberal spirit which had dictated that measure.

Nor was this all. Mr. Canning, when he said that he would not serve under a military premier, had expressed an English feeling. The Duke of Wellington’s treatment of Mr. Huskisson was too much like that of a general who expects implicit obedience from his inferior officers. The very determination he had displayed in disregarding and overruling George IV.’s anti-Catholic prejudices, evinced a resolve to be obeyed that seemed to many dangerous. His strong innate sense of superiority, the language, calm and decided, in which it was displayed, were not to the taste of our public in a soldier at the head of affairs, though they might have pleased in a civilian. At the same time, this undisguised and unaffected superiority lowered his colleagues in the public estimation, whilst the general tendency of many minds is to refuse one order of ability where they admit another.

An act of foreign policy, moreover, did the administration at this time an immense injury. We had cordially, though indirectly, placed Donna Maria on the throne of Portugal, and endowed that country with a constitution. Don Miguel, Donna Maria’s uncle, afterwards dispossessed her of that throne and ruled despotically. We had not, however, as yet recognized him as the Portuguese Sovereign. We still honoured the niece residing in England with that title, when accident occurred which led to grave doubts as to whether the great commander was also a great minister.

The Island of Terceira still acknowledged Donna Maria’s sway; and an expedition, consisting chiefly of her own subjects, had embarked from Portsmouth for that Island, when it was stopped and prevented from landing there by a British naval force, the pretext being that the expedition, though first bound to Terceira, was going to be sent to Portugal, and to be employed against Don Miguel.

But no sufficient proof was given of this intention; the force arrested in its passage was a Portuguese force, proceeding to a place bonâ fide in the Queen of Portugal’s possession. If it were eventually to be landed on the territory held by the usurper, it had not yet made manifest that such was its destination. Its object might be merely to defend Terceira, which had lately been attacked. Arguments might be drawn from international law both for and against our conduct. But the public did not go into these arguments; what it saw was, that Mr. Canning had favoured the constitutional cause, that the Duke of Wellington was favouring the absolute one. “He did not do this,” said people, “to please his own nation; no one suspected him of doing it to gratify a petty tyrant. He did it then to satisfy the great potentates of the Continent who were adverse to freedom.” This suspicion, not founded on fact, but justified by appearances, weighed upon the Cabinet as to its whole foreign policy, and reacted upon its policy at home.

So strong were its effects, that when Charles X. called Prince Polignac to the head of his counsels, it was said, “Oh, this is the Duke of Wellington’s doing!” and even when the ordinances of July were published, it was supposed that they had been advised by our military premier. Feelings of this sort have no limit. They spread like a mist over opinion.

At this time occurred the death of George IV. (June 26th, 1830), and a new era opened in our history.

William IV., who succeeded, had not the same talents or accomplishments as the deceased monarch, his brother, nor perhaps the same powers of mind. But he was more honest and straightforward; took a greater interest in the welfare of the nation, and was very desirous to be beloved by his people. He retained the same Ministry, but a new reign added to the impression that there must ere long be a new Cabinet, and the circumstances under which the forthcoming elections took place confirmed this impression. Parliament was dissolved on the 23rd of July, and on the 30th was proclaimed the triumph of a revolution in Paris; whilst immediately after the fall of the throne of Charles X. came that general crash of dynasties which shook the nerves of every prince in Europe.

The roar of revolution abroad did not resound in England and obscure the lustre of the brightest reputations; nevertheless, it was echoed in a general cry, for constitutional change, and accompanying this cry, there was, as winter approached, an almost general alarm from the demoralization that prevailed in the rural districts and the excitement that existed in the great towns.

The country wanted to be reassured and calmed.

The King’s speech (Nov. 2, 1830) was not calculated to supply this want. With respect to home affairs, it spoke of the dangerous state of Ireland, and said nothing of the one question which began to occupy men’s minds in England – the question of Reform. Abroad, our policy had been weak against Russia when on her road to Constantinople; timid and uncertain towards Greece, when the time was come for her recognition; and now we announced the intention of opening diplomatic relations with Don Miguel, in Portugal, and made the insurrection in Belgium popular by taking the King of the Netherlands under our protection.

In short, there was hardly one word our new Sovereign was made to say which did not add to the unpopularity of his ministers. These ministers, indeed, were in a critical position.

Some plan of Parliamentary Reform had of necessity to be proposed. The true Conservative policy would have been to propose a moderate plan before increased disquietude suggested a violent one. Nor was this task a difficult one at that moment; for if a Parliamentary Reform was proclaimed necessary, there was no definite idea as to what that Reform should be. Many of the Tories were willing to give Representatives to a few of the great towns, and to diminish in some degree the number of close boroughs; a large portion of the Whigs would have been satisfied with Reform on this basis.

It is probable that Sir Robert Peel (Mr. Peel had succeeded to his father’s title in March of this year) would have inclined, had he been completely his own master, towards some course of this kind.

But, whilst a general incertitude prevailed as to what would be the best course for the Government to pursue, the Duke of Wellington, who felt convinced that we should be led step by step to revolution if we did not at once and decidedly declare against all change, determined to check any contrary disposition in his followers before it was expressed, and surprised all persons by the declaration that the Constitution as it stood was perfect, and that no alteration in it would be proposed as long as he was Prime Minister.

I have reason to believe that his more wary colleague was by no means pleased with this hasty and decided announcement; and, although he could not directly contradict the speech of his chief, he in a certain degree mitigated its effect by saying: “That he did not at present see any prospect of such a measure of safe, moderate Reform as His Majesty’s Government might be inclined to sanction” which, in fact, said that if a moderate, safe Reform were found, it would be sanctioned. But the party in office, after the significant words of the Premier, were compromised; and the line they had to follow practically traced.

Those words were hazardous and bold; but in times of doubt and peril, boldness has sometimes its advantages. One must not, however, be bold with any appearance of timidity. But the Government was about to show that it wanted that resolution which was its only remaining protection.

The King had been invited to dine with the Lord Mayor on the 9th of November. There are always a great many busy people on such occasions who think of making themselves important by giving information, and the Lord Mayor is precisely the person who is most brought into contact with these people. It is not in the least surprising, therefore, that his Lordship was told there was a plot for attacking the Duke of Wellington on his way to the city, and that he had better be well guarded. On this somewhat trumpery story, and not very awful warning, the Government put off the Royal dinner, saying, they feared a tumult.

It is evident that a set of Ministers so unpopular that they thought they could not safely accompany the sovereign through the City of London to the Mansion House, were not the men to remain in office in a time of trouble and agitation. Thus, the days of the Government were now numbered; and being on the 15th of November in a minority of 29, on a motion respecting the arrangements of the civil list, they resigned.

Lord Grey succeeded the Duke of Wellington, and announced his intention of bringing forward a measure of Reform.

I had been elected for that Parliament, and returned from abroad but a few days after the change of Government.

I then saw Sir Robert Peel for the first time, and it was impossible, after attending three or four sittings of the House of Commons, not to have one’s attention peculiarly attracted to him.

He was tall and powerfully built. His body somewhat bulky for his limbs, his head small and well-formed, his features regular. His countenance was not what would be generally called expressive, but it was capable of taking the expression he wished to give it, humour, sarcasm, persuasion, and command, being its alternate characteristics. The character of the man was seen more, however, in the whole person than in the face. He did not stoop, but he bent rather forwards; his mode of walking was peculiar, and rather like that of a cat, but of a cat that was well acquainted with the ground it was moving over; the step showed no doubt or apprehension, it could hardly be called stealthy, but it glided on firmly and cautiously, without haste, or swagger, or unevenness, and, as he quietly walked from the bar to his seat, he looked round him, as if scanning the assembly, and when anything particular was expected, sat down with an air of preparation for the coming contest.

The oftener you heard him speak the more his speaking gained upon you. Addressing the House several times in the night on various subjects, he always seemed to know more than any one else knew about each of them, and to convey to you the idea that he thought he did so. His language was not usually striking, but it was always singularly correct, and gathered force with the development of his argument. He never seemed occupied with himself. His effort was evidently directed to convince you, not that he was eloquent, but that he was right. When the subject suited it, he would be witty, and with a look and a few words he could most effectively convey contempt; he could reply also with great spirit to an attack, but he was rarely aggressive. He seemed rather to aim at gaining the doubtful, than mortifying or crushing the hostile. His great rivals, Canning and Brougham, being removed, he no doubt felt more at his ease than formerly; and though there was nothing like assumption or pretension in his manner, there was a tone of superiority, which he justified by a great store of knowledge, a clear and impressive style, and a constant readiness to discuss any question that arose.