Before the delights of peace had calmed the spirits and re-assured all minds, before all hearts had lost the habit of suffering and resisting suffering, it required an effort on the part of the nation, as of the individual, to enjoy the charms of repose.
An unforseen event deeply moved public feeling. Princess Charlotte, heiress to the throne, loved and esteemed by all, and upon whom reposed those loyal sympathies (of which her father was justly deprived), had just died at Claremont, on the 6th of November, 1816, in giving birth to her first child.
All England shared in the grief of her young husband, Prince Leopold of Saxe-Cobourg. He was destined subsequently to be the first to ascend the throne of Belgium, assisted thereto by new family ties that he contracted in France, as well as by the affection still cherished for him in England. He was sagacious enough to make use of both these influences for the good of his adopted country, as well as a beneficial influence in the counsels of European politics. On the 29th of May, 1819, less than two years after the death of Princess Charlotte, the Princess Victoria, daughter of the Duke of Kent, was born at London. Some months later the old King George III. died (January 28th 1820); blind and insane during the last ten years of his life. Patient and quiet in his madness, he preserved in the hearts of his people a respectful and melancholy popularity which showed itself at the time of his death. Honest and obstinate, seriously and sincerely religious, observant of his duties both as man and as king, as he understood them, he had often served and often hindered the policy and the government of his country; he had always loved it, and had always believed himself obligated to consecrate to it his life and his strength, to the prejudice of his tastes or personal desires. During these ten years, in the long silence of his sad isolation, he had exhausted all anger and extinguished all hatred. The nation remembered only his simple and honest virtues, his immovable courage and his patriotic disinterestedness. No illusion regarding the abilities and faults of his successor was possible.
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George IV.
For ten years already George IV. had satisfactorily occupied the throne, when he was officially proclaimed king on the 31st of January, 1820.
The fruits of evil are bitter even for those who plant them. Unhappily married, as he deserved to be, after the disorderly life he had led, the new monarch had for a long time cherished towards his wife an aversion amounting to hatred. He addressed to her the gravest reproaches. Upon his accession to the throne, the princess was upon the continent. Orders were given to erase her name from the liturgy of the established church, and to omit the public prayers for the Queen, as her husband had decided never to recognize her. The natural courage of the princess and the indignation of the woman, wounded in her honor, brought Queen Caroline immediately back to England, proudly resolved to submit her cause to public opinion.
"I wrote to Lord Liverpool and Lord Castlereagh, to demand the insertion of my name in the liturgy of the Church of England," declared the queen, "at the same time that the order was given to all the ambassadors, ministers and English consuls to recognize me and to treat me as Queen of England. After the address of Lord Castlereagh in reply to that of Mr. Brougham, I have no other insult to fear. I demand that a palace be prepared for my reception. I fly toward England, which is my true country."
All the generous sentiments of the English nation, as well as its contempt for the character and habits of its sovereign, were shown in the ardent and sympathetic reception which greeted the arrival of Queen Caroline on the sixth of June, 1820.
"They have erased her name from the liturgy," said her faithful and honest counsellor, Mr. Denham, "but all England prays for her in praying for those who are desolate and oppressed."
In the midst of her popular triumph, all attempts at compromise were rejected by the queen, notwithstanding the advice of her eminent advisors, Brougham and Denham. The king demanded a divorce, which his ministers refused to second; public excitement was increasing; for a moment some regiments of infantry seemed to waver in their fidelity. Political maneuvres increased the agitation; the leaders of the radical opposition espoused the cause of the queen; she addressed a petition to the House of Lords, demanding the authority to defend herself. The government finally took the initiative, with regret, and constrained by the violence of royal and popular passions, Lord Liverpool presented to Parliament his Bill of Pains and Penalties, formally accusing Queen Caroline of conjugal infidelity, and demanding a divorce, in the name of King George IV.
The venerable Lord Eldon remarked with judicious sagacity, before the arrival of Caroline: "Our queen threatens to come to England; if she ventures here, she is the most courageous woman I have ever heard of. The evil she will do by coming will be incalculable. At the outset she will be immensely popular with the multitude; I give her only a few weeks, or at the most, a few months, to lose the opinion of the entire world."
It was a sad and unheard of spectacle to see a sovereign publicly arraigning his wife before the supreme tribunal. A great multitude besieged the environs of Westminster, insulting those ministers and peers that they knew were opposed to the accused queen, and saluting her defenders with acclamations. Popular passion had judged well the doubts and uncertainties which enveloped the principal facts and the formal accusations; it closed its eyes, however, to the license of life and language which the corrupt and contradictory testimony of foreigners reluctantly revealed.
The burning eloquence and the wonderful management of Brougham carried the enthusiasm of the multitude to the highest pitch. In summing up the evidence, he said: "Such, my Lords, is the case now before you, and such is the evidence by which it is attempted to be upheld. It is evidence—inadequate, to prove any proposition; impotent, to deprive the lowest subject of any civil right; ridiculous, to establish the least offence; scandalous, to support a charge of the highest nature; monstrous, to ruin the honor of the Queen of England. My Lords, I call upon you to pause. You stand on the brink of a precipice. If your judgment shall go out against your queen, it will be the only act that ever went out without effecting its purpose; it will return to you upon your own heads. Save the country—save yourselves. Rescue the country; save the people of whom you are the ornaments; but severed from whom, you can no more live than the blossom that is severed from the root and tree on which it grows. Save the country, therefore, that you may continue to adorn it—save the crown, which is threatened with irreparable injury—save the aristocracy, which is surrounded with danger—save the altar, which is no longer safe when its kindred throne is shaken. You see that when the Church and the throne would allow of no church solemnity in behalf of the queen, the heartfelt prayers of the people rose to Heaven for her protection. I pray Heaven for her; and I here pour forth my fervent supplications to the throne of mercy, that mercies may descend on the people of this country, richer than their rulers have deserved, and that your hearts may be turned to justice."
So much eloquence and oratorical passion, together with the intense earnestness of public opinion, had, as might be expected, a great effect upon the House of Lords. The majority in favor of the bill, which at first was quite considerable, diminished day by day. On the third reading, it was but nine. Lord Liverpool rose and said, that, in the presence of a majority so small, he did not think it advisable to continue the discussion. On the 10th of November, 1820, the bill was withdrawn, to the intense delight of the people. Catherine of Brunswick had gained her cause; she remained the wife of George IV. and Queen of England.
It was one of those triumphs, which cost so dear to the victors, and which accelerates their fall. In passing through the crowded streets about Westminster, Lord Mulgrave was threatened by the multitude, who demanded that he should join in the cry: "Long live the queen!" He turned towards the populace and said, "Very well, long live the queen, and all you women that resemble her." Something of this bitter sarcasm began to penetrate slowly into the minds of the people, but lately carried away, without reflection, in the defence of a wife outraged by him who had set her so fatal an example. The resolution shown by the ministers in the conduct of their painful task, and the perils they had braved, led to a sincere reaction in their favor. A diabolical plot that has been called "the Cato street conspiracy"—after the name of the street where its principal author, Arthur Thistlewood, resided, had threatened the lives of all the members of the cabinet; they were to be assassinated en masse, in the dining-room of Lord Harrowby, in Grosvenor Square. The plot was discovered, and the conspirators suffered the penalty of their crime on the 1st of May, 1820.
Almost at the same moment grave disorders broke out in Scotland and the north of England. The energy of their repression equalled the violence of the attempts. The honest mass of the nation rose as one man against those misguided wretches that threatened to annihilate social order. "Among those who are here," said Sir Walter Scott, in a public meeting at Edinburgh, "there are persons who are able, by uniting their forces, to raise an army of fifty thousand men."
Notwithstanding that the government of George IV. had shared in the great unpopularity of the sovereign, it finally regained the favor of the nation. The majority which sustained it in Parliament became each day more decided and more united. "In six months the king will be the most popular man in the realm," said Lord Castlereagh, with a just and disdainful appreciation of the violence of popular reaction.
When on the 19th of July, 1821, Queen Caroline appeared at the doors of Westminster Abbey, in an open carriage drawn by six horses, claiming her right to witness the coronation of the king, admission into the church was peremptorily refused. Fearing an outbreak of the passions so recently excited in her favor, the display of military force was great; but few of the populace saluted her. She withdrew, wounded to the death in her pride and in her resentment. Fifteen days later she expired. She had directed that her body should be taken back to her native country and deposited in the tomb of her ancestors, with this inscription: "Here lies Caroline of Brunswick, the injured Queen of England." For a moment only public sentiment was re-awakened in favor of the queen. The funeral escort, which accompanied the remains to the port of embarkation, had been ordered to avoid the streets of London; a mob, however, compelled the procession to proceed through the city. Two men were killed. A distinguished officer, Sir Robert Wilson, severely reprimanded the soldiers for having fired upon the people. He was cashiered, and the magistrate who had yielded to the demands of the mob, in changing the route, was dismissed.
Queen Caroline was forgotten, and her royal spouse was in Ireland receiving the enthusiastic homage of a people who had not for long years enjoyed the honor of a royal visit. "My heart has always been Irish," said George IV., addressing the multitude which crowded around the Viceroy's palace; "from the day it first beat, I have loved Ireland. Rank, station, honors are nothing; but to feel that I live in the hearts of my Irish subjects is to me the most exalted happiness." A similar reception awaited George IV. in his Electorate of Hanover.
In the midst of this triumph of their party, the ministers, more sincerely and more rigidly Tory than Pitt had ever been, yet realized the need of energetic and effectual support. Since his accession to office. Lord Sidmouth had cleverly and sagaciously directed internal affairs, but he now was old and worn out. Mr. Peel, Secretary for Ireland since 1812, brilliantly replaced him. A certain number of moderate Whigs allied themselves to the government, without however changing either its attitude or its complexion. Superficial minds are astonished at this long continued power of the Tories. Peace and pacific governments were established in Europe; the perils within and without which had threatened England no longer existed. The causes which had permitted them to hold the reins of power so firmly, were removed or greatly diminished: it seemed that that power ought to be relaxed; but the effects long survived the causes; if the Tory government was not indispensable at this time, the Tory party at least was the victorious and dominant party, everywhere possessing the preponderance, and powerfully organized to preserve it. The relations of England with the absolute monarchies of the continent, were of the most cordial character. Her counsellors had contracted during the severe trials of the coalition those lines of thought, of interest, and of habit which create common interests and common success; her external policy weighed upon her internal policy; and Lord Castlereagh was more inclined to assimilate with the Prince Metternich than to distinguish himself. Unhappily for the new-born spirit of liberty, the revolutionary spirit also reappeared, spreading its virus in public institutions as well as in individual hearts, alarming everywhere the governments. During the first twelve years of the peace, England found her government more alarmed, more immovable, more inaccessible to all reform and all liberal innovation, than it had been in the midst of the war, during her greatest struggles and greatest dangers.
The contest between the government and the opposition had begun. The Whigs were ardent partisans of reform, in principle as well as from political ambition, always shrewd and sagacious to advance or to serve popular needs and desires. A famine in Ireland and the deplorable scenes which accompanied the sufferings of the people, drew universal attention to the violent relations which existed between the Catholics and the Protestants. In vain had the Marquis of Wellesly as Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, exercised a prudent and energetic impartiality; he only succeeded in alienating the Orangemen without conciliating the Patriots.
Mr. Canning presented to the House a proposition for the admission of the Catholic Peers to Parliament; "but yesterday," said he, "at the august ceremony of the coronation, after being exhibited to the peers and people of England, to the representatives of princes and nations of the world, the Duke of Norfolk, highest in rank among the peers—the Lord Clifford, and others like him, representing a long line of illustrious and heroic ancestors,—appeared as if they had been called forth and furnished for the occasion, like the lustres and banners that flamed and glittered in the scene; and were to be, like them, thrown by as useless and temporary formalities; they might indeed bend the knee, and kiss the hand; they might bear the train, or rear the canopy; they might perform the offices assigned by Roman pride to their barbarian forefathers,—Purpurea tollant aulœa Brittanni: but with the pageantry of the hour their importance faded away: as their distinction vanished, their humiliation returned; and he who headed the procession of peers to-day, could not sit among them, as their equal, on the morrow."
For some time past Mr. Peel had assumed the leadership of the opposition on the question of Catholic emancipation; he had conducted the same with a moderation for which Mr. Plunkett, one of the most eloquent and ardent partisans of the measure, thanked him in flattering terms: "I know no man in the state that will probably have more influence upon this question; and there is no man whose adhesion to what I would call prejudices without foundation, would be able to do more evil to my country," said he.
Notwithstanding the lively opposition of Peel, the proposition of Mr. Canning was adopted by the House of Commons. The cabinet was divided. Lord Castlereagh, become Marquis of Londonderry since the death of his father, remained favorable to the liberal measures in favor of the Catholics; the House of Lords rejected the motion, not however without leaving to its partisans the legitimate hope of the approaching success of their just cause.
A first effort of Lord John Russell, in favor of Parliamentary reform, vigorously opposed by Mr. Canning, was rejected by the House of Commons, but by a smaller majority; and after a discussion more favorable than the ardent promoters of the measure had perhaps expected. The last words of the address of Mr. Canning already predicted that success that he so greatly feared. "I conjure the noble Lord," he said, "to pause, before he again presses his plan on the country: if, however, he shall persevere, and if his perseverance shall be successful, and if the results of that success be such as I cannot help apprehending;—his be the triumph to have precipitated those results; mine be the consolation that to the utmost and to the latest of my power, I have opposed them."
King George IV. returned to Edinburgh; he had journeyed through Scotland from castle to castle, charming all he met, by the grace of his manner and the agreeableness of his conversation, even those who had not attributed to him either political courage or private virtue. He was suddenly recalled to London by a tragic event; as Sir Samuel Romilly and Mr. Whitbread, some years before. Lord Londonderry had just succumbed under the weight of a burden too heavy for the equilibrium of his mind; he had cut his throat on the 12th of August, coldly resolved, even to the last day, as firmly to sustain peace as he had been to sustain war; too feeble nevertheless to resist the new embarrassments that he apprehended from the state of agitation in Europe, and precipitated by his patriotic agonies into a fit of insanity.
The battle of Austerlitz broke the heart of Mr. Pitt. After having victoriously concluded peace, and maintained order in England while all the thrones of the continent were shaken. Lord Londonderry had become a madman.
Mr. Canning replaced him in power, not without intrigue nor without internal difficulty. He associated with himself Mr. Huskinson, an able and honest minister of the finances, liberal like himself, and disposed likewise to favor the popular movement, that they had neither the power nor the desire to repress. The first intimation of this new attitude of the government, was the recognition by England of the South American republics: ancient Spanish colonies revolted against the yoke of the mother country. Successive shocks had agitated Spain; the Bourbons had been overthrown and replaced by a provisory government. Recalled to the throne by a royalist insurrection, Ferdinand VII. had been seconded by France; the Duke of Angoulême, eldest son of King Louis XVIII., at the head of an army had re-established the monarchy in Spain, while Austria, in her turn, interfered in the affairs of the kingdom of Naples, as confused and troubled as those of Spain. Under Mr. Canning, England remained faithful to the principle of non-intervention; nevertheless without sympathy for the sovereigns attacked, without good will to their defenders. "We have exerted all our efforts to prevent the French from entering Spain," said Mr. Canning. "We have exhausted every means but war. I admit that the entrance of a French army into Spain was a measure of disparagement to Great Britain. Do you think that for this disparagement we have not been compensated? Do you think that for the blockade of Cadiz, England has not received a full recompense? I looked at Spain by another name than Spain; I looked on that power as Spain and the Indies; and so looking at the Indies, I have there called a new world into existence and regulated the balance of power."
While Mr. Canning pursued a foreign policy, boldly independent in regard to the powers and common interests of Europe, he remained preoccupied and sad. He had reached the summit of grandeur; admired and respected by all, still young and powerful, by reason of his personal merit, he nevertheless stood alone, having parted from all the friends who had fought at his side at the outset of his career, separated from them by the attitude he had taken at the head of the liberals; and also separated from the liberals, that he commanded by the resistance that he opposed to parliamentary reform. His health was good, but the nervous state into which the trials and vexations of political life had thrown him, slowly undermined the forces that he sought in vain to repair by the pleasures and charms of society. He died on the 8th of August, 1827, at Chiswick, in the beautiful villa of the Duke of Devonshire, and in the same chamber where Mr. Fox breathed his last.
One after the other, young and old, death gathered the great actors of the long struggle sustained by England against the anarchical passions and absolute ambition from without and the contagion of fatal evils within. But few months after the death of Mr. Canning, Lord Liverpool, in his turn, old and worn out, already withdrawn from the world by an attack of paralysis, also died. It was necessary to provide for the needs of government. A cabinet of coalition slipped through the hands of Lord Goderich. The Duke of Wellington had directed victoriously the affairs of England in war, and the king now demanded of the great general that he should take charge of the political affairs of the government. The Duke, accustomed to obey the call of duty wherever it led, did not hesitate, confiding simply in the power of good sense and honest authority. The Whigs retired; the liberal Tories, Mr. Peel at their head, closed their ranks around the new chief whom fortune had sent them.
The young Lord Aberdeen, already distinguished, with Lord Castlereagh, in the most important diplomatic negotiations, now, for the first time, took part in the internal government of his country. He had the good fortune to be loved and honored by all, both at home and abroad, during his entire career. The ministry had, from the beginning, to confront a difficult and long contested question. It found itself constrained to support and defend a measure that it had previously ardently combatted. The situation in Ireland occupied all minds; the emancipation of the Catholics became, more than ever, in the eyes of some, the evident remedy for all evils; but to others, the object of lively inquietude and profound repugnance.
Commerce had developed in Ireland; industry had increased her exportations; the ministers hostile to the measures that were demanded to relieve the miseries of a neighboring and dependent kingdom, cited with pride the figures of the statistics: but the wealth was concentrated in a small number of hands; the proprietors of the soil were, for the most part, strangers to Ireland; absent or indifferent to her sufferings. The common people were engaged in agricultural pursuits of the most primitive character, without other care than to draw from the earth, with the least possible effort, the subsistence necessary from day to day. The introduction of the potato, by giving the peasants a food more economical than wheat, had increased their idleness, their improvidence, and their misery. Without money, without resources, without education, habitually separated from the higher classes, the Irish peasantry lived in a state bordering on barbarism. "The last of the animals, does not support its kind," said, in 1822, the most illustrious of their advocates, Daniel O'Connell, often most useful but many times dangerous to their cause: "Their homes should not be called houses—they have no right to that title: they are huts, built in the earth, partly thatched over, partly exposed to the elements. No furniture garnishes the interior; it is a luxury to possess a trunk; and a table is rarely to be found. All the family live in one room; they have no beds, and sleep upon straw; in the mountainous districts they scarcely have sufficient covering. Their wages are not above eight cents per day, and even at that rate, farm hands cannot find work. Their land, therefore, is their only means of support, and this land is leased to them at a price far above its real value, owing to the numerous middlemen who come between the proprietors and the peasants."
So much suffering, so long endured without effectual relief, in a situation seemingly without issue, at last brought about a violent agitation, which was used to foment religious and political passions. The Test Act was repealed, and a simple oath of allegiance was substituted for the compulsory communion with the established Church. This was the first step leading to the emancipation of the Catholics; all felt it, even the protestant dissenters, who supported the measure, although it was of more benefit to their traditional enemies, the Catholics, than to themselves.
Public opinion was at the time violent but brilliantly directed. Under Mr. Canning the Irish Catholics were careful not to obtrude their claims, as they feared to embarrass, by public alarm, the good will of the government. When they saw the power fall into the hands of the Tories, they at once engaged passionately in the contest: the Catholic associations commenced their popular assemblies, their harangues, their addresses, their pamphlets, their subscriptions, all their ardent and adroit work, as much to excite and to discipline the people in England as to encourage and recruit their partisans in Ireland. O'Connell and Moore, two men of very unequal powers, but both powerful at this time, by diverse means, marched at the head of this crusade for the emancipation of their faith and race. O'Connell, that robust and audacious wrestler, that inventive and strategic legislator, indefatigable in his eloquence, brilliant or vulgar, captivating or diverting, devoted with unscrupulous passion to the cause which made at the same time his glory and his fortune; Moore, patriotic and worldly poet, pathetic and satirical, as popular in the salons of London as O'Connell in the meetings of Ireland; singing his melodies while O'Connell breathed forth his invectives, both constant in their efforts, rallying to the service of the same cause the mass of the people and the elegant world, the impetuous passions and the elevated thoughts, the ambition of men, and the sympathy of women, the Celtic peasants and the Saxon nobles, the Catholic priests and the philosophic Whigs.
The grandeur of the purpose responded to the ardor of the effort. O'Connell was elected from the county of Clare, to that House of Commons from which he was excluded by law. Ireland was completely under his control; sometimes precipitating itself to the last limits of legal order, then again docile and prudent. In England, among the different classes of the laity, as well as in the bosom of the Anglican Church, public sentiment favorable to the Catholic Church gained ground day by day.
As obstinate in its alarms, as sincere in its faith, Protestant Toryism struggled against the tide, but that struggle became more and more feeble; the Orange societies of Ireland weakly opposed the meetings of the Catholic associations, and in the House of Lords, Lord Eldon himself lost confidence: "We will combat," said he, "but we will be in a miserable minority. That which is most disastrous is that many bishops will be against us."
Without being more sincere than Lord Eldon, the bishops favorable to the emancipation of the Catholics had judged better than he of their duty as Christian prelates, and the true interests of their religious faith; the government also realized that the measure had become necessary. The Duke of Wellington, always ready to confront the truth, however disagreeable it might be, now became convinced that the present state of affairs in Ireland ought not to be prolonged, and that it was necessary to remove all cause and all legitimate pretext for the intrigues and maneuvres of the agitators. Religious liberty was not in question; thanks to the progress of public opinion in the midst of Christian civilization, the practical freedom of religious beliefs, and different worship, either Protestant or Catholic, was not affected: it was the equality of political rights, the separation of civil from religious society that they demanded; and it was from a government whose entire political establishment, royalty, parliament and legislation, was exclusively protestant, that this declaration was to emanate and become law. It was in consequence of the pressing necessity, and not from any general principles of truth and justice, that the Duke of Wellington and Mr. Peel decided to present to Parliament, a measure that they were unable any longer to resist, and for which they had with great difficulty obtained the consent of the king.
It was not from principle that George IV. resisted the demands of his ministers. Protestantism was a tradition of his house; he regarded it as the foundation of his throne; he wished besides to shows his authority. He feigned an endeavor to form a new cabinet but did not succeed. "What am I to do?" said he to Lord Eldon, "my situation is miserable. If I give my consent I shall go to Hanover. I shall return no more to England." In order to guard against treachery or weakness, the ministers exacted a written authorization from him. On the 5th of March, 1829, Mr. Peel proposed to the House of Commons the abolition of the civil and political disabilities which weighed upon the Catholics. Violently attacked, and censured for his cowardice in renouncing his life-long opinion before servile terrors, the great minister replied: "I know of no motive of conduct more ignominious than fear; but there is a disposition more dangerous perhaps yet, although less base; it is the fear of being suspected of having feared. However vile a coward may be, the man who abandons himself to the fear of being treated as a coward, shows but little more courage. The ministers of his majesty have not been alarmed by the Catholic associations; they had stifled all attempts at intimidation; but there are fears which are not repugnant to the character of the firmest man, constantis viri. There are things which cannot be seen without fear. One ought not to see without fear the disorganization and the disaffection which exists in Ireland, and that one that affects not to fear them, would show himself insensible to the happiness or misfortune of his country."
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Windsor Castle.
It was in the same spirit of patriotic uneasiness that the Duke of Wellington said to the House of Lords: "It has been my fortune to have seen much of war, more than most men; I have been constantly engaged in the active duties of the military profession. From boyhood until I have grown gray my life has been passed in familiarity with scenes of death and human suffering. Circumstances have placed me in countries where the war was internal, between parties of the same nation; and rather than a country I loved should be visited with the calamities which I have seen, with the unutterable horrors of a civil war, I would run any risk; I would make any sacrifice; I would freely lay down my life."
The emancipation of the Catholics had not borne all the fruits of pacification and of conciliation that was expected; it left alive many germs of bitterness, destined more than once to produce cruel agitations. It was nevertheless legitimate, necessary and honorable to the government which proposed it, and the Parliament which passed it. Truth and justice are powerful in the souls of men, whatever be the passions which animate them or the prejudices which blind them. It was with the serene sentiment of a great task nobly accomplished that Mr. Peel said to the House of Commons, some months later, "I say without any feeling of hostility or bitterness, I fully knew, from the first day, the dolorous results that the emancipation of the Catholics would have for me, both personally and in my public character; but if the same circumstances should occur again, if I had to take my resolution anew on this subject, and with still more knowledge of the sacrifice, I would announce this evening to the House, a motion to propose that measure."
Some months after the ratification of the emancipation bill. King George IV. died at Windsor (June 26th, 1830). Great events, both at home and abroad took place under his regency or during his reign. Peace was concluded in Europe after the last efforts of a supreme struggle; the great injustice so long endured by the English Catholics, was removed by the free action of the Protestants. This glory belonged to others rather than to him: he left the Duke of Wellington to conquer at Waterloo—he had so many times recounted the part he had taken in the combat that he finally forgot that he had not left England during that epoch. He left the Duke of Wellington and Mr. Peel to bear alone the burden of a measure to which he was opposed from habit of mind, as well as from personal repugnance, without any conscientious scruples. Brilliant, highly educated and refined, he spread about him, in the intimacy of his court, a baneful influence; corrupt himself and a corrupter of others. The burdens of the foreign wars and the great Parliamentary struggles, left only as their results, demoralization and lasting evil to the country.
A grand and consoling spectacle to contemplate, is that throughout the whole course of English history, the great lords and the landed gentry, the masters of the soil and of the national wealth, are always to be found in the front rank in political contests as well as in the army; in Parliament as well as on the field of battle. The English barons had wrested Magna Charta from John Lackland; in the government which was to accomplish a parliamentary reform, useful and legitimate in some respects, doubtful and bold in others, thirteen members of the House of Lords headed the popular movement, resolved to raise high the standard of a reform fatal to their influence and their natural domination. Courageously faithful in its task of moderating the outbursts of the inconsiderate passions of the nation, the English aristocracy has never yielded its right to be the first to brave all dangers, and the first to advance all progress: it has lessened the encroachments of the rising wave of democracy; it has opened its ranks to all signal merit; it has given up its children to common life and common labor, prompt to bear the burden of the national destiny, in all its directions, and ardent to maintain England in that glorious position in the vanguard of liberty, that she has occupied with honor in Europe for many centuries.
Following the emancipation of the Catholics, the parliamentary reform proposed and sustained by Lord John Russell and Lord Grey, was a new and shining example. Confusedly, and without fully comprehending the import of their acts and of their hopes, the Whigs began to see that a new spirit was now animating the world, and that the breath of the French Revolution had not passed in vain over a generation that was slowly disappearing, leaving to its success, a work begun. It was again that the agitation and excitement of the popular passions came from France. The revolution of July, 1830, had substituted upon the throne the younger branch of the House of Bourbon, in place of the elder, which had been induced by fatal counsels to violate its engagements with the nation.
At the first report of the cannon of King Charles X., some one asked the Duke of Wellington what he thought of the result? "It is a new dynasty," answered the Duke. "And what course shall you take?" "First, a long silence, and then we will concert with our allies what we shall say." The national sympathy of England did not permit so much prudence and reserve. From the month of August it solemnly recognized Louis Philippe—"in the name of the new King of England." William IV. but recently Duke of Clarence, had succeeded his brother George IV. Educated for the navy, he had never shown much talent in his profession: he was an honest prince, of moderate intelligence, without any children living. His wife Adelaide of Saxe-Meiningen, was a virtuous and agreeable person, who exercised over the king her husband an influence, often exaggerated by public rumor.
The new Parliament which assembled on the 2nd of November, 1830, had been elected amidst extreme agitation. Disturbances and riots had succeeded the electoral ferment, at many places; the ministry were disturbed during the first day of the session. The day following the address from the throne, the Reformers threw the gauntlet to the cabinet. Lord Grey solemnly announced his views and the end he desired; clever and sensible even in his boldness, and placing in advance the limits which he had resolved not to pass. "That which takes place under our own eyes ought to teach us sagacity; when the spirit of liberty shines around us, it is our first duty to guarantee our institutions by introducing moderate reforms. I have been all my life favorable to reform, but never have I been disposed to go further than to-day, if the occasion should present itself. But I do not rest upon abstract right, my reasons for claiming them. Some say that all men who pay taxes, that all men who have attained their majority, have the right to the electoral suffrage. I deny absolutely this right. The right of the people is to be well governed, in a way to assure its repose and its privileges; if this is incompatible with universal suffrage, or even with an extension of the suffrage, then the restriction, and not the extension of the suffrage becomes the true duty of the people."
Wise maxims, ignored or unrecognized by the popular passions and the absolute egotism of France, too often forgotten even in England, by reformers more adventurous and less enlightened than Lord Grey. The door that he wished to open, the way that he traced for the future destinies of his country, excited immediately a lively opposition on the part of the Duke of Wellington. He responded without hesitation to Lord Grey: "As for me, I recognize no system of representation to be better and more satisfactory than that which England enjoys; this system possesses and merits the full confidence of the country. I will go further: if, at this moment, the duty were imposed upon me to form a legislature for any country whatever, above all for a country like ours, with great interests of all kinds, I do not think that I would ever be able to form a legislature comparable to this; for human sagacity does not attain at once so excellent an institution. I am not prepared to propose the measure alluded to by the noble lord. Not only am I not prepared to bring forward any measure of this nature, but I will at once declare, that as far as I am concerned, as long as I hold any station in the government of the country, I shall always feel it my duty to resist such measures when proposed by others."
The refusal was more peremptory than the public and even members of the cabinet themselves expected; the external agitation became so great that the king declined to visit London to attend the Lord Mayor's banquet. Seditious movements were feared. On the 15th of November, a motion by the Chancellor of the Exchequer, regarding the Civil List, was voted down; on the 16th the Cabinet resigned: Sir Robert Peel as well as the Duke of Wellington. Lord Grey and his friends, Lord John Russell, Lord Brougham, Lord Palmerston, Lord Melbourne and Lord Althorpe, arrived at power. From the first day they boldly raised the flag of Reform. "That which I proposed when against the government, I have now the power to accomplish," said Lord Grey; "and I engage myself to present immediately to Parliament, a proposition for the reform of our system of representation." Popular agitation was extreme; the counties surrounding London were in a state of open insurrection. After the declaration of Lord Grey, the situation in Ireland became more alarming; the crops had failed, and the sufferings of the people were excessive. O'Connell and his friends, deprived of their weapons by the emancipation of the Catholics, raised anew the question of the union of the two kingdoms: they boldly demanded its repeal. O'Connell overran the counties, haranguing the people and exciting their religious and political passions; careful, however, to recommend that order which he was constantly seeking to disturb, and violating frequently the laws, feeling safe from all prosecution, inasmuch as the government needed his support for the success of its great enterprise. One measure alone occupied the thoughts of the ministers: defeated in Parliament on the Budget, they called to their aid all shades of liberals, modifying the first tenor of their intentions, in order to assure themselves of victory. "My first intention," said Lord Grey to the House of Lords, on the 28th of March, 1831, "was to reduce the reform to limits much more circumscribed. After mature reflection, I am nevertheless convinced that the measure, as actually presented, would alone be able to satisfy the views of all classes, and assure to the government security and respect."
Two questions occupied the reformers: the suppression of existing abuses and the lawful extension of the political suffrage. I borrow from May's Constitutional History the resumé of the bold measures proposed by Lord John Russell in order to reach this double result:
"The main evil had been the number of nominations, or rotten boroughs enjoying the franchise. Fifty-six of these, having less than two thousand inhabitants, and returning one hundred and eleven members, were swept away. Thirty boroughs, having less than four thousand inhabitants, lost each a member. Weymouth and Welcome Regis lost two. This disfranchisement extended to one hundred and forty-three members. The next evil had been, that large populations were unrepresented; and this was now redressed. Twenty-two large towns, including metropolitan districts, received the privilege of returning two members; and twenty more of returning one. The large county populations were also regarded in the distribution of seats, the number of county members being increased from ninety-four to one hundred and fifty-nine. The larger counties were divided; and the number of members adjusted with reference to the importance of the constituencies. By this distribution of the franchise, the House of Commons was reduced in number from six hundred and fifty-eight to five hundred and ninety-six, or by sixty-two members. The number of electors was more than doubled: it attained in the united kingdom to the number of nine hundred thousand. All narrow rights of election were set aside in boroughs, and a ten pound household franchise was established."
The secret resolutions of the government had been strictly kept; the joyous astonishment of the Reformers equalled the anger of the Conservatives, a new name which the Tories had adopted, in consequence of the attacks of their adversaries upon the Constitution.
Astonishment and anger were followed by anxiety. Determined resolution on the part of the Conservatives would be able, at the outset, to defeat the bill and overthrow the cabinet. The ministers were not ignorant of this fact. "We often sought to divine the probable conduct of the opposition," subsequently remarked Lord Brougham, then chancellor; "I said; If I was in Peel's place I would not attempt to discuss the question; as soon as Lord John Russell should sit down, I would declare that I was decided not to discuss a measure so revolutionary, so insane, and I would demand an immediate vote. If he does that we are lost." The members of the cabinet who were not in the House of Commons were at table at the house of the chancellor, anxiously waiting for news of the discussion, when the last bulletin finally arrived: "Peel has been speaking for twenty minutes," Lord Brougham shouted for joy. "Hurrah!" cried he, "they discuss—we are saved."
The shrewd instinct of the Reformers had not been deceived; no matter however powerful and reasonable was the discussion, however forcible the arguments against a reform more radical in principle than in its practical application, time and debate were necessarily favorable to a cause growing more and more popular, notwithstanding the commotion and uneasiness of a great part of the nation. Sir Robert Peel had not correctly judged the passions which secretly agitated the masses. "Our judgment is troubled," said he, "by what has just taken place in France. I admit that the resistance of our neighbors to an illegal exercise of authority has been legitimate; but consider what effects popular resistance, even when legitimate, have upon national property, upon industry, and upon the happiness of families. All that I ask of you is that you take time to deliberate upon so grave a question. When the people of England shall recover their strong good sense, they will reproach you for having sacrificed the Constitution of the country in your desire to take advantage of an outburst of popular sentiment."