PART I.

FROM BIRTH AND EDUCATION TO DUEL WITH LORD CASTLEREAGH.

Proper time for writing a biography.--Mr. Canning born (1770).--Education at Eton and Oxford.--Early literary performances.--Brought into Parliament by Mr. Pitt.--Politics he espoused.--His commencement as a speaker.--Writes for the _Anti-Jacobin_.--Quits office with Mr. Pitt.--Opposes Mr. Addington.--Returns to office with Mr. Pitt.--Distinguishes himself in opposition to “All the Talents.”--Becomes Minister of Foreign Affairs on their fall.--Foreign policy.--Quarrel with Lord Castlereagh, and duel.

I.

There is no period at which an eminent person is so little considered, so much forgotten and disregarded, as during the few years succeeding his decease. His name, no longer noised above that of others by the busy zeal of his partisans, or the still more clamorous energies of his opponents, drops away suddenly, as it were, from the mouths of men. To his contemporaries he has ceased to be of importance--the most paltry pretender to his place is of more;--while posterity does not exist for him, until the dead are distinctly separated from the living; until the times in which he lived, and the scenes in which he acted, have become as a distant prospect from which the eye can at once single out from amidst the mass of ordinary objects, those which were the memorials of their epoch, and are to become the beacons of after-generations.

The French, who are as fond of putting philosophy into action as we are coy of connecting theory with practice, marked out, at one moment, a kind of intermediate space between the past and the present, the tomb and the pantheon; but the interval of ten years, which they assigned for separating the one from the other, is hardly sufficient for the purpose.

We are, however, now arrived at the period that permits our considering the subject of this memoir as a character in history which it is well to describe without further procrastination. Every day, indeed, leaves us fewer of those who remember the clearly-chiselled countenance which the slouched hat only slightly concealed,--the lip satirically curled,--the penetrating eye, peering along the Opposition benches,--of the old parliamentary leader in the House of Commons. It is but here and there that we find a survivor of the old day, to speak to us of the singularly mellifluous and sonorous voice, the classical language--now pointed into epigram, now elevated into poesy, now burning with passion, now rich with humour--which curbed into still attention a willing and long-broken audience.

The great changes of the last half-century have, moreover, created such a new order of ideas and of society, that the years preceding 1830 appear as belonging to an antecedent century; and the fear now is--not that we are too near, but that we are gliding away too far from the events of that biography which I propose to sketch. And yet he who undertakes the task of biographical delineation, should not be wholly without the scope of the influences which coloured the career he desires to sketch. The artist can hardly give the likeness of the face he never saw, nor the writer speak vividly of events which are merely known to him by tradition.

II.

It is with this feeling that I attempt to say something of a man, the most eminent of a period at which the government of England was passing, imperceptibly perhaps, but not slowly, from the hands of an exclusive but enlightened aristocracy, into those of a middle class, of which the mind, the energy, and the ambition had been gradually developed, under the mixed influences of a war which had called forth the resources, and of a peace which had tried the prosperity, of our country;--a middle class which was growing up with an improved and extended education, amidst stirring debates as to the height to which the voice of public opinion should be allowed to raise itself, and the latitude that should be given, in a singularly mixed constitution, to its more democratic parts.

Mr. Canning was born on the 11th of April, 1770, and belonged to an old and respectable family originally resident in Warwickshire.[110] A branch of it, obtaining a grant of the manor of Garvagh, settled in Ireland in the reign of James I., and from this branch Mr. Canning descended; but the misfortunes of his parents placed him in a situation below that which might have been expected from his birth.

His father, the eldest of three sons--George, Paul, and Stratford--was disinherited for marrying a young lady (Miss Costello) without fortune; and having some taste for literature, but doing nothing at the bar, he died amidst the difficulties incidental to idle habits and elegant tastes.

Mrs. Canning, left without resources, attempted the stage, but she had no great talents for the theatrical profession, and never rose above the rank of a middling actress. Her son thus fell under the care of his uncle, Mr. Stratford Canning, a highly respectable merchant, and an old Whig, much in the confidence of the leaders of the Whig party and possessing considerable influence with them. A small inheritance of 200_l._ or 300_l._ a year sufficed for the expenses of a liberal education, and after passing through the regular ordeal of a private school, young Canning was sent to Eton, and subsequently to Christ Church, Oxford. At Eton no boy ever left behind him so many brilliant recollections. Gay and high-spirited as a companion, clever and laborious as a student, he obtained a following from his character, and a reputation from his various successes. This reputation was the greater from the schoolboy’s triumphs not being merely those of school. Known and distinguished as “George Canning,” he was yet more known and distinguished as the correspondent of “Gregory Griffin;”--such being the name adopted by the fictitious editor of the _Microcosm_, a publication in the style of the _Spectator_, and carried on solely by Eton lads. In this publication, the graver prose of the young orator was incorrect and inferior to that of one or two other juvenile contributors, but some of his lighter productions were singularly graceful, and it would be difficult to find anything of its kind superior to a satirical commentary upon the epic merits of an old ballad:

“The queen of hearts She made some tarts _All on a summer’s day_,” &c[111]

“I cannot leave this line,” says the witty commentator, “without remarking, that one of the Scribleri, a descendant of the famous Martinus, has expressed his suspicions of the text being corrupted here, and proposes, instead of ‘All on,’ reading ‘Alone,’ alleging, in the favour of this alteration, the effect of solitude in raising the passions. But Hiccius Doctius, a High Dutch commentator, one nevertheless well versed in British literature, in a note of his usual length and learning, has confuted the arguments of Scriblerus. In support of the present reading, he quotes a passage from a poem written about the same period with our author’s, by the celebrated Johannes Pastor (most commonly known as Jack Shepherd), entitled, ‘An Elegiac Epistle to the Turnkey of Newgate,’ wherein the gentleman declares, that, rather indeed in compliance with an old custom than to gratify any particular wish of his own, he is going

“‘_All hanged_ for to be Upon that fatal Tyburn tree.’

“Now, as nothing throws greater light on an author than the concurrence of a contemporary writer, I am inclined to be of Hiccius’ opinion, and to consider the ‘All’ as an elegant expletive, or, as he more aptly phrases it, ‘elegans expletivum.’”

The other articles to which the boyish talent of the lad, destined to be so famous, may lay claim, are designated in the will of the supposed editor, Mr. Griffin (contained in the concluding number of the _Microcosm_), which, amongst special bequests assigns to “Mr. George Canning, now of the college of Eton, all my papers, essays, &c., signed B.”

III.

It is needless to observe that an Eton education is more for the man of the world than for the man of books. It teaches little in the way of science or solid learning, but it excites emulation, encourages and gratifies a love of fame, and prepares the youth for the competitions of manhood. Whatever is dashing and showy gives pre-eminence in that spirited little world from which have issued so many English statesmen. It developed in Canning all his natural propensities. He was the show boy at Montem days with master and student.

“Look, papa,--there, there;--that good-looking fellow is Canning--such a clever chap, but a horrible Whig. By Jupiter, how he gives it to Pitt!”

Nor was this wonderful. The youthful politician spent his holidays with his uncle, who only saw Whigs; and then, what clever boy would not have been charmed by the wit and rhetoric of Sheridan--by the burning eloquence of Fox?

The same dispositions that had shown themselves at Eton, carried to Oxford, produced the same distinctions. Sedulous at his studies, almost Republican in his principles, the pride of his college, the glory of his debating society, the intimate associate of the first young men in birth, talents, and prospects, young Canning was thus early known as the brilliant and promising young man of his day, and thought likely to be one of the most distinguished of those intellectual gladiators whom the great parties employed in their struggles for power; struggles which seemed at the moment to disorder the administration of affairs, but which, carried on with eloquence and ability in the face of the nation, kept its attention alive to national interests, and could not fail to diffuse throughout it a lofty spirit, and a sort of political education.

IV.

From the University Canning went to Lincoln’s Inn. It does not appear, however, that in taking to the study of the law he had any idea of becoming a Lord Chancellor. There was nothing of severity in his plan of life--he dined out with those who invited him, and his own little room was at times modestly lit up for gatherings together of old friends, who enjoyed new jokes, and amongst whom and for whom were composed squibs, pamphlets, newspaper articles, in steady glorification of school and college opinions, which the Oxonian, on quitting the University, had no doubt the intention to sustain in the great battles of party warfare.

But events were then beginning to make men’s convictions tremble under them; and, with the increasing differences amongst veteran statesmen, it was difficult to count on youthful recruits.

At all events, it is about this time that Mr. Canning’s political career begins. It must be viewed in relation to the particular state of society and government which then existed.

From the days of Queen Anne there had been a contest going on between the two aristocratic factions, “Whig” and “Tory.” The principles professed by either were frequently changed. The Tories, such as Sir William Windham, under the guidance of Bolingbroke, often acting as Reformers; and the Whigs, under Walpole, often acting as Conservatives. The being in or out of place was in fact the chief difference between the opposing candidates for office, though the Whigs generally passed for being favourable to popular pretensions, and the Tories for being favourable to Royal authority.

In the meantime public opinion, except on an occasional crisis when the nation made itself heard, was the opinion of certain coteries, and public men were the men of those coteries. It not unfrequently happened that the most distinguished for ability were the most distinguished for birth and fortune. But it was by no means necessary that it should be so. The chiefs of the two conflicting armies sought to obtain everywhere the best soldiers. Each had a certain number of commissions to give away, or, in other words, of seats in Parliament to dispose of. They who had the government in their hands could count from that fact alone on thirty or forty. It matters little how these close boroughs were created. Peers or gentlemen possessed them as simple property, or as the effect of dominant local influence. The Treasury controlled them as an effect of the patronage or employments which office placed in its hands. A certain number were sold or let by their proprietors, and even by the Administration; and in this manner men who had made fortunes in our colonies or in trade, and were averse to a public canvass, and without local landed influence, found their way into the great National Council. They paid their 5000_l._ down, or their 1000_l._ a year, and could generally, though not always, find a seat on such terms. But a large portion of these convenient entries into the House of Commons was kept open for distinguished young men, who gave themselves up to public affairs as to a profession. A school or college reputation, an able pamphlet, a club, or county meeting oration, pointed them out. The minister, or great man who wished to be a minister, brought them into Parliament. If they failed, they sank into insignificance; if they succeeded, they worked during a certain time for the great men of the day, and then became great men themselves.

This system had advantages, counterbalanced by defects, and gave to England a set of trained and highly educated statesmen, generally well informed on all national questions, strongly attached to party combinations, connected by the ties of gratitude and patronage with the higher classes, having a certain contempt for the middle: keenly alive to the glory, the power, the greatness of the country, and sympathising little with the habits and wants of the great masses of the people.

They had not a correct knowledge of the feelings and wants of the poor man,--they understood and shared the feelings of the gentleman. Bread might be dear or cheap, they cared little about it; a battle gained or lost affected them more deeply. A mob might be massacred without greatly exciting their compassion; but the loss of a great general or of a great statesman they felt as a national calamity.

Such were the men who might fairly be called “political adventurers:” a class to which we owe much of our political renown, much of our reputation for political capacity, but which, in only rare instances, won the public esteem or merited the popular affections. Such were our political adventurers when Mr. Pitt sent for Mr. Canning, a scholar of eminence and a young man of superior and shining abilities, and offered him a seat in the House of Commons.

The following is the simple manner in which this interview is spoken of by a biographer of Mr. Canning:[112]

“Mr. Pitt, through a private channel, communicated his desire to see Mr. Canning; Mr. Canning of course complied. Mr. Pitt immediately proceeded, on their meeting, to declare to Mr. Canning the object of his requesting an interview with him, which was to state that he had heard of Mr. Canning’s reputation as a scholar and a speaker, and that if he concurred in the policy which the Government was then pursuing, arrangements would be made to bring him into Parliament.”

The person to whom this offer was made accepted it; nor was this surprising.

I have already said that events were about this period taking place, that made men’s convictions tremble under them; and in fact the mob rulers of Paris had in a few months so desecrated the name of Freedom, that half of its ancient worshippers covered their faces with their hands, and shuddered when it was pronounced.

But there were also other circumstances of a more personal nature, which, now that young Canning had seriously to think of his entry into public life, had, I have been assured, an influence on his resolutions.

The first incident, I was once told by Mr. John Allen, that disinclined Mr. Canning (who had probably already some misgivings) to attach himself irrevocably to the Whig camp, was the following one: Lord Liverpool, then Mr. Jenkinson, had just made his appearance in the House of Commons. His first speech was highly successful. “There is a young friend of mine,” said Mr. Sheridan, “whom I soon hope to hear answering the honourable gentleman who has just distinguished himself: a contemporary whom he knows to possess talents not inferior to his own, but whose principles, I trust, are very different from his.”

This allusion, however kindly meant, was disagreeable, said Mr. Allen, to the youthful aspirant to public honours. It pledged him, as he thought, prematurely; it brought him forward under the auspices of a man, who, however distinguished as an individual, was not in a position to be a patron. Other reflections, it is added, followed. The party then in opposition possessed almost every man distinguished in public life: a host of formidable competitors in the road to honour and preferment, supposing preferment and honour to be attainable by talent. But this was not all. The Whig party, then, as always, was essentially an exclusive party; its preferments were concentrated on a clique, which regarded all without it as its subordinates and instruments.

On the other side, the Prime Minister stood almost alone. He had every office to bestow, and few candidates of any merit for official employments. Haughty from temperament, and flushed with power, which he had attained early and long exercised without control, he had not the pride of rank, nor the aristocratic attachments for which high families linked together are distinguished. His partisans and friends were his own. He had elevated them for no other reason than that they were his. By those to whom he had once shown favour he had always stood firm; all who had followed had shared his fortunes; there can be no better promise to adherents.

These were not explanations that Mr. Canning could make precisely to the Whig leaders, but he had an affection for Mr. Sheridan, who had always been kind to him, and by whom he did not wish to be thought ungrateful. He sought, then, an interview with that good-natured and gifted person. Lord Holland, Mr. Canning’s contemporary, was present at it, and told me that nothing could be more respectful and unreserved than the manner in which the ambitious young man gave his reasons for the change he was prepared to make, or had made; nothing more warm-hearted, unprejudiced, and frank, than the veteran orator’s reception of his retiring _protégé’s_ confession: nor, indeed, could Mr. Sheridan help feeling the application, when he was himself cited as an example of the haughtiness with which “the great Whig Houses” looked down on the lofty aspirations of mere genius. The conversation thus alluded to took place a little before Mr. Pitt’s proposals were made, but probably when they were expected. Mr. Canning, his views fairly stated to the only person to whom he felt bound to give them, and his seat in Parliament secured, placed himself in front of his old friends, whom Colonel Fitz-Patrick avenged by the following couplet:

“The turning of coats so common is grown, That no one would think to attack it; But no case until now was so flagrantly known Of a schoolboy turning his jacket.”

V.

There was little justice in Colonel Fitz-Patrick’s satire. Nine-tenths of Mr. Fox’s partisans, old and young, were deserting his standard when Mr. Canning quitted him. The cultivated mind of England was, as it has been said in two or three of these sketches, against the line which the Whig leader persisted to take with respect to the French Revolution--even after its excesses; and it is easy to conceive that the cause of Liberty and Fraternity should have become unfashionable when these weird sisters were seen brandishing the knife, and dancing round the guillotine. Admitting, however, the legitimacy of the horror with which the assassins of the Committee of Public Safety inspired the greater portion of educated Englishmen, it is still a question whether England should have provoked their hostility; for, after the recall of our ambassador and our undisguised intention of making war, the Republic’s declaration of it was a matter of course.

“Where could be the morality,” said Mr. Pitt’s opponents, “of bringing fresh calamities upon a land which so many calamities already desolated? Where the policy of concentrating and consolidating so formidable an internal system by an act of foreign aggression? And if the struggle we then engaged in was in itself inhuman and impolitic, what was to be said as to the time at which we entered upon it?

“The natural motives that might have suggested a French war, were--the wish to save an unhappy monarch from an unjust and violent death; the desire to subdue the arrogance of a set of miscreants who, before they were prepared to execute the menace, threatened to overrun the world with their principles and their arms. If these were our motives, why not draw the sword, before the Sovereign whose life we wished to protect had perished? Why defer our conflict with the French army until, flushed with victory and threatened with execution in the event of defeat, raw recruits were changed into disciplined and desperate soldiers? Why reserve our defence of the unhappy Louis till he had perished on the scaffold--our war against the French Republic until the fear of the executioner and the love of glory had made a nation unanimous in its defence? Success was possible when Prussia first entered on the contest: it was impossible when we subsidized her to continue it.”

The antagonists of the First Minister urged these arguments with plausibility. His friends replied, “that Mr. Pitt had been originally against all interference in French affairs; that the conflict was not of his seeking; that the conduct of the French government and the feelings of the English people had at last forced him into it; that he had not wished to anticipate its necessity; but that if he had, the minister of a free country cannot go to war at precisely the moment he would select; he cannot guard against evils which the public itself does not foresee. He must go with the public, or after it; and the public mind in England had, like that of the Ministers, only become convinced by degrees that peace was impossible.

“As to neutrality, if it could be observed when the objects at stake were material, it could not be maintained when those objects were moral, social, and religious.

“When new ideas were everywhere abroad, inflaming, agitating men’s minds, these ideas were sure to find everywhere partisans or opponents, and to attempt to moderate the zeal of one party merely gave power to the violence of the other.

“It was necessary to excite the English people against France, in order to prevent French principles, as they were then called, from spreading and fixing themselves in England.”

Such was the language and such the opinions of many eminent men with whom Mr. Canning was now associated, when, after a year’s preliminary silence, he made his first speech in the House of Commons.

VI.

This first speech (January 31, 1794), like many first speeches of men who have become eminent orators, was more or less a failure. The subject was a subsidy to Sardinia, and the new member began with a scoff at the idea of looking with a mere mercantile eye at the goodness or badness of the bargain we were making. Such a scoff at economy, uttered in an assembly which is the especial guardian of the public purse, was injudicious. But the whole speech was bad; it possessed in an eminent degree all the ordinary faults of the declamations of clever young men. Its arguments were much too refined: its arrangement much too systematic: cold, tedious, and unparliamentary, it would have been twice as good if it had attempted half as much; for the great art in speaking, as in writing, consists in knowing what should not be said or written.

This instance of ill success did not, however, alienate the Premier; for Mr. Pitt, haughty in all things, cared little for opinions which he did not dictate. In 1795, therefore, the unsubdued favourite was charged with the seconding of the address, and acquitted himself with some spirit and effect.

The following passage may be quoted both for thought and expression:

“The next argument against peace is its insecurity; it would be the mere name of peace, not a wholesome and refreshing repose, but a feverish and troubled slumber, from which we should soon be roused to fresh horrors and insults. What are the blessings of peace which make it so desirable? What, but that it implies tranquil and secure enjoyment of our homes? What, but that it will restore our seamen and our soldiers, who have been fighting to preserve those homes, to a share of that tranquillity and security? What, but that it will lessen the expenses and alleviate the burdens of the people? What, but that it explores some new channel of commercial intercourse, or reopens such as war had destroyed? What, but that it renews some broken link of amity, or forms some new attachment between nations, and softens the asperities of hostility and hatred into kindness and conciliation and reciprocal goodwill? And which of all these blessings can we hope to obtain by a peace, under the present circumstances, with France? Can we venture to restore to the loom or to the plough the brave men who have fought our battles? Who can say how soon some fresh government may not start up in France, which may feel it their inclination or their interest to renew hostilities? The utmost we can hope for is a short, delusive, and suspicious interval of armistice, without any material diminution of expenditure; without security at home, or a chance of purchasing it by exertions abroad; without any of the essential blessings of peace, or any of the possible advantages of war: a state of doubt and preparation such as will retain in itself all the causes of jealousy to other states which, in the usual course of things, produce remonstrances and (if these are answered unsatisfactorily) war.”

VII.

In 1796, Parliament was dissolved, and Mr. Canning was returned to Parliament this time for Wendover. He had just been named Under-Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs; and it has been usual to refer to this appointment as a proof of his early parliamentary success. He owed the promotion, however, entirely to the Prime Minister’s favour; for though his late speech, better than the preceding one, had procured him some credit, there was still a careless impertinence in his manner, and a classical pedantry in his style, which were unsuitable to the taste of the House of Commons. Indeed, so much had he to reform in his manner, that he now remained, by, as it is said, Mr. Pitt’s advice, silent for three years, endeavouring during this time to correct his faults and allow them to be forgotten.

It does not follow that he was idle. The _Anti-Jacobin_, started in 1797, under the editorship of Mr. Gifford, for the purpose which its title indicates, was commenced at the instigation and with the support of the old contributor to the _Microcosm_, and did more than any parliamentary eloquence could have done in favour of the anti-Jacobin cause.

“Must wit,” says Mr. Canning, who had now to contend against the most accomplished humorists of his day, “be found alone on falsehood’s side?” and having established himself as the champion of “Truth,” he brought, no doubt, very useful and very brilliant arms to her service. The verses of “New Morality,” spirited, exaggerated, polished, and virulent, satisfied the hatred without offending the taste (which does not seem to have been at that time very refined) of those classes who looked upon our neighbours with almost as much hatred and disgust as were displayed in the verses of the young poet; while the “Friend of Humanity and the Knife-grinder”--almost too trite to be quoted, and yet too excellent to be omitted--will long remain one of the happiest efforts of satire in our language:

“IMITATION SAPPHICS.

“THE FRIEND OF HUMANITY AND THE KNIFE-GRINDER.

“_Friend of Humanity_:

“Needy Knife-grinder, whither are you going? Rough is the road,--your wheel is out of order; Bleak blows the blast,--your hat has got a hole in’t, So have your breeches.

“Weary Knife-grinder, little think the proud ones, Who in their coaches roll along the turnpike Road, what hard work ’tis crying all day, ‘Knives and Scissors to grind, O!’

“Tell me, Knife-grinder, how came you to grind knives? Did some rich man tyrannically use you? Was it the squire, or parson of the parish, Or the attorney?

“Was it the squire, for killing of his game? or Covetous parson, for his tithes distraining? Or roguish lawyer, made you lose your little All in a lawsuit?

“Have you not read the ‘Rights of Man,’ by Tom Paine? Drops of compassion tremble on my eyelids, Ready to fall as soon as you have told your Pitiful story.

“_Knife-Grinder_:

“Story! God bless you, I have none to tell, sir; Only last night, a-drinking at the ‘Chequers,’ These poor old hat and breeches, as you see, were Torn in a scuffle.

“Constables came up for to take me into Custody; they took me before the justice: Justice Aldmixon put me in the parish Stocks for a vagrant.

“I should be glad to drink your honour’s health in A pot of beer, if you will give me sixpence; But, for my part, I never love to meddle With politics, sir.

“_Friend of Humanity_:

“I give thee sixpence? I’ll see thee damn’d first. Wretch, whom no sense of wrong can rouse to vengeance! Sordid, unfeeling, reprobate, degraded, Spiritless outcast!”

[_Exit, kicking over the wheel, in a fit of universal philanthropy._]

An instance of the readiness of Mr. Canning’s Muse may be here related.

When Frere had completed the first part of the “Loves of the Triangles,” he exultingly read over the following lines to Canning, and defied him to improve upon them:

“Lo! where the chimney’s sooty tube ascends, The fair Trochais from the corner bends! Her coal-black eyes upturned, incessant mark The eddying smoke, quick flame, and volant spark; Mark with quick ken, where flashing in between, Her much-loved _smoke-jack_ glimmers thro’ the scene; Mark how his various parts together tend, Point to one purpose,--in one object end; The spiral grooves in smooth meanders flow, Drags the long chain, the polished axles glow, While slowly circumvolves the piece of beef below.”

Canning took the pen, and added:

“The conscious fire with bickering radiance burns, Eyes the rich joint, and roasts it as it turns.”

These two lines are now blended with the original text, and constitute, it is said, the only flaw in Frere’s title to the sole authorship of the first part of the poem, from which I have been quoting: the second and third parts were both by Canning.

In prose I cite the report of a peroration by Mr. Erskine, whose egotism could hardly be caricatured, at a meeting of the Friends of Freedom.

“Mr. Erskine concluded by recapitulating, in a strain of agonizing and impressive eloquence, the several more prominent heads of his speech: He had been a soldier, and a sailor, and had a son at Winchester School; he had been called by special retainers, during the summer, into many different and distant parts of the country, travelling chiefly in post-chaises; he felt himself called upon to declare that his poor faculties were at the service of his country--of the free and enlightened part of it, at least. He stood here as a man; he stood in the eye, indeed in the hand, of God--to whom (in the presence of the company, and waiters) he solemnly appealed; he was of noble, perhaps royal blood; he had a house at Hampstead; was convinced of the necessity of a thorough and radical reform; his pamphlet had gone through thirty editions, skipping alternately the odd and even numbers; he loved the Constitution, to which he would cling and grapple; and he was clothed with the infirmities of man’s nature; he would apply to the present French rulers (particularly _Barras_ and _Reubel_) the words of the poet:

“‘_Be to their faults a little blind;_ _Be to their virtues ever kind,_ _Let all their ways be unconfined,_ _And clap the padlock on their mind!_’

and for these reasons, thanking the gentlemen who had done him the honour to drink his health, he should propose ‘_Merlin_, the late Minister of Justice, under the Directory, and Trial by Jury.’”

I refer those who wish to know more of the literary merits of Mr. Canning to an article, July, 1858, in the “Edinburgh Review,” in which article the accomplished writer has exhausted the subject he undertook to treat.

Nor was Mr. Canning’s reputation for wit, at this time, gained solely by his pen. Living with few, though much the fashion, who could be more charming in his own accomplished circle--when, the pleasant thought lighting up his eye, playing about his mouth, and giving an indescribable charm to his handsome countenance, he abandoned himself to the inspiration of some happy moment, and planned a practical joke, or quizzed an incorrigible bore, or related some humorous anecdote? No one’s society was so much prized by associates; no one’s talents so highly estimated by friends; and his fame in the drawing-room, or at the dining-table, was at least as brilliant as that which he subsequently acquired in the senate.

This, indeed, was the epoch in his life at which perhaps he had the most real enjoyment; for though he felt conscious that his success in Parliament had not yet been complete, the feeling of certainty that it would become so, now began to dawn upon him, and the triumphs that his ardent nature anticipated went probably even beyond those which his maturer career accomplished.

VIII.

On the 11th of December, 1798, Mr. Tierney made a motion respecting peace with the French Republic. The negotiations at Lille, never cordially entered into, were at this time broken off. We had formed an alliance with Russia and the Porte, and were about to carry on the struggle with new energies, though certainly not under very encouraging auspices. The coalition of 1792-3 was completely broken up. Prussia had for three years been at peace with France; nor had the Cabinet of Vienna seen any objection to signing a treaty which, disgracefully to all parties, sacrificed the remains of Venetian liberty.

France, in the meanwhile, distracted at home, had, notwithstanding, enlarged her empire by Belgium, Luxemburg, Nice, Savoy, Piedmont, Genoa, Milan, and Holland. There were many arguments to use in favour of abandoning the struggle we had entered upon: the uncertain friendship of our allies; the increased force of our enemy; and the exhausting drain we were maintaining upon our own resources. In six years we had added one hundred and fifty millions to our debt, by which had been created the necessity of adding to our annual burdens eight millions, a sum equal to the whole of our expenditure when George III. came to the throne.

But the misfortunes which attend an expensive contest, though they necessarily irritate and dissatisfy a people with war, are not always to be considered irrefutable arguments in favour of peace. This formed the substance of the speech which Mr. Canning delivered on Mr. Tierney’s motion. Defective in argument, it was effective in delivery, and added considerably to his reputation as a speaker.

In the meantime, our sworn enmity to France and to French principles, encouraged an ardent inclination to both in those whom we had offended or misgoverned. The Directory in Paris and the discontented in Ireland had, therefore, formed a natural if not a legitimate league. The result was an Irish rebellion, artfully planned, for a long time unbetrayed, and which, but for late treachery and singular accidents, would not have been easily overcome.

Mr. Pitt, taking advantage of the fears of a separation between Great Britain and the sister kingdom, which this rebellion, notwithstanding its prompt and fortunate suppression, had created, announced, in a message from the Crown, a desire still further to incorporate and consolidate the two kingdoms. Whatever may have been the result of the Irish Union, the promises under which it was passed having been so long denied, so unhappily broken, there was certainly at this period reason to suppose that it would afford the means of instituting a fairer and less partial system of government than that under which Ireland had long been suffering.

As for the wail which was then set up, and which has since been re-awakened, for the independent Legislature which was merged into that of Great Britain, the facility with which it was purchased is the best answer which can be given to the assertions made of its value.

The part, therefore, that Mr. Canning adopted on this question (if with sincere and honest views of conferring the rights of citizenship on our Irish Catholic fellow-subjects, and not with the intention, which there is no reason to presume, of gaining their goodwill and then betraying their confidence) is one highly honourable to an English statesman. But another question now arose. That Catholic Emancipation was frequently promised as the natural result of the Union, has never been disputed. As such promises were made plainly and openly in Parliament, the King could not be supposed ignorant of them. Why, then, if his Majesty had such insuperable objections to their fulfilment, did he allow of their being made? And, on the other hand, how could his Ministers compromise their characters by holding out as a lure to a large majority of the Irish people a benefit which they had no security for being able to concede? Mr. Canning’s language is not ambiguous:

“Here, then, are two parties in opposition to each other, who agree in one common opinion; and surely if any middle term can be found to assuage their animosities, and to heal their discords, and to reconcile their jarring interests, it should be eagerly and instantly seized and applied. That an union is that middle term, appears the more probable when we recollect that the Popery code took its rise after a proposal for an union, which proposal came from Ireland, but which was rejected by the British government. This rejection produced the Popery code. _If an union were therefore acceded to, the Popery code would be unnecessary._ I say, if it was in consequence of the rejection of an union at a former period that the laws against Popery were enacted, it is fair to conclude that an union would render a similar code unnecessary--that an union would satisfy the friends of the Protestant ascendency, without passing new laws against the Catholics, and without maintaining those which are yet in force.”[113]

The Union, nevertheless, was carried; the mention of Catholic Emancipation, in spite of the language just quoted, forbidden. Mr. Pitt (in 1801) retired.

IX.

There will always be a mystery hanging over the transaction to which I have just referred,--a mystery difficult to explain in a manner entirely satisfactory to the character of the King and his minister. One can only presume that the King was willing to let the Union be carried, on the strength of the Premier’s promises, which he did not think it necessary to gainsay until he was asked to carry them into effect; and that the Minister counted upon the important service he would have rendered if the great measure he was bringing forward became law, for the influence that would be necessary to make his promises valid. It cannot be denied that each acted with a certain want of candour towards the other unbecoming their respective positions, and that both behaved unfairly towards Ireland. Mr. Pitt sought to give consistency to his conduct by resigning; but he failed in convincing the public of his sincerity, because he was supposed to have recommended Mr. Addington, then Speaker of the House of Commons, and the son of a Doctor Addington, who had been the King’s physician (to which circumstance the son owed a nickname he could never shake off), as his successor; and Mr. Addington was only remarkable for not being remarkable either for his qualities or for his defects, being just that staid, sober sort of man who, respectable in the chair of the House of Commons, would be almost ridiculous in leading its debates.

Thus an appointment which did not seem serious, perplexed and did not satisfy the public mind; more especially as the seceding minister engaged himself to support the new Premier, notwithstanding their difference of opinion on the very question on which the former had left office. The public did not know then so clearly as it does now that the King, who through his whole life seems to have been on the brink of insanity, was then in a state of mind that rendered madness certain, if the question of the Catholics, on which he had morbid and peculiar notions, was persistingly pressed upon him; and that Mr. Pitt thus, rightly or wrongly, thought it was his duty, after sacrificing office, to stop short of driving the master he had so long served into the gloom of despair. This, however, was a motive that could not be avowed, and consequently every sort of conjecture became current. Was the arrangement made on an understanding with the King, and would Mr. Pitt shortly resume the place he had quitted? Did Mr. Pitt, if there was no such arrangement, really mean to retain so incapable a person as Mr. Addington, at so important a time, at the head of the Government of England, or was his assistance given merely for the moment, with the intention of subsequently withdrawing it?

At first the aid offered to the new Premier by the old one was effective and ostentatious; but a great portion of the Opposition began also to support Mr. Addington, intending in this way to allure him into an independence which, as they imagined, would irritate his haughty friend, and separate the _protégé_ from the patron. The device was successful. The Prime Minister soon began to entertain a high opinion of his own individual importance, Mr. Pitt to feel sore at being treated as a simple official follower of the Government, which he had expected unofficially to command, and ere long he retired almost entirely from Parliament. He did not, however, acknowledge the least desire to return to power.

In this state of things, the conduct of Mr. Canning seemed likely to be the same as Mr. Pitt’s, but it was not so. He did not, even for a moment, affect any disposition to share the partiality which the late First Lord of the Treasury began by testifying for the new one. Sitting in Parliament for a borough for which he had been elected through government influence, his conduct for a moment was fettered; but obtaining, at the earliest opportunity, a new seat (in 1802) by his own means--that is, by his own money--he then went without scruple into the most violent opposition.

His constant efforts to induce Achilles to take up his spear and issue from his tent, are recorded by Lord Malmesbury, and though not wholly disagreeable to his discontented chief, were not always pleasing to him. He liked, no doubt, to be pointed out as the only man who could direct successfully the destinies of England, and enjoyed jokes levelled at the dull gentleman who had become all at once enamoured of his own capacity; but he thought his dashing and indiscreet adherent passed the bounds of good taste and decorum in his attacks, and he disliked being pressed to come forward before he himself felt convinced that the time was ripe for his doing so. Too strong a show of reluctance might, he knew, discourage his friends; too ready an acquiescence compromise his dignity, and give an advantage to his enemies.

He foresaw, indeed, better than any one, all the difficulties that lay in his path. The unwillingness of the Sovereign to exchange a minister with whom he was at his ease, for a minister of whom he always stood in awe; the unbending character of Lord Grenville, with whom he must of necessity associate, if he formed any government that could last, and who, nevertheless, rendered every difficulty in a government more difficult by his uncompromising character, his stately bearing, and his many personal engagements and connections. More than all, perhaps, he felt creeping over him what his friends did not see and would not believe--that premature decrepitude which consigned him, in the prime of life, to the infirmities of age. Thus, though he felt restless at being deprived of the only employment to which he was accustomed, he was not very eager about a prompt reinstatement in it, and preferred waiting until an absolute necessity for his services, and a crisis, on which he always counted, should float him again into Downing Street, over many obstacles against which his bark might otherwise be wrecked.

His real feelings, however, were matter of surmise; many people, not unnaturally, imagined that Mr. Canning represented them; and the energetic partisan, mixing with the world, derived no small importance from his well-known intimacy with the statesman in moody retirement. His marriage, moreover, at this time with Miss Joan Scott, one of the daughters of General Scott, and co-heiress with her sisters, Lady Moray and Lady Titchfield, brought him both wealth and connection, and gave a solidity to his position which it did not previously possess.

X.

In the meantime the Addington administration went on, its policy necessarily partaking of the timid and half-earnest character of the man directing it. Unequal to the burden and the responsibility of war, he had concocted a peace, but a peace of the character which Mr. Canning had previously described: “a peace without security and without honour:” a peace which, while it required some firmness to decline, demanded more to maintain, since the country was as certain to be at first pleased with it as to be soon ashamed of it. No administration would have had the boldness to surrender Malta; few would have been so weak as to promise the cession.

Indeed, almost immediately after concluding this halcyon peace, we find the Secretary of War speaking of “these times of difficulty and danger,” and demanding “an increased military establishment.” Nor was it long before an additional 10,000 men were also demanded for our naval service. On both these occasions Mr. Canning, supporting the demand of the Minister, attacked the Administration; and after stating his reasons for being in favour of the especial measure proposed, burst out at once into an eloquent exhibition of the reasons for his general opposition:

“I do think that this is a time when the administration of the Government ought to be in the ablest and fittest hands. I do not think the hands in which it is now placed answer to that description. I do not pretend to conceal in what quarter I think that fitness most eminently resides. I do not subscribe to the doctrines which have been advanced, that, in times like the present, the fitness of individuals for their political situations is no part of the consideration to which a Member of Parliament may fairly turn his attention. I know not a more solemn or important duty that a Member of Parliament can have to discharge than by giving, at fit seasons, a free opinion upon the character and qualities of public men. _Away with the cant of measures, not men--the idle supposition that it is the harness, and not the horse, that draws the chariot along._ No, sir; if the comparison must be made--if the distinction must be taken--measures are comparatively nothing, men everything. I speak, sir, of times of difficulty and danger--of times when systems are shaken, when precedents and general rules of conduct fail. Then it is that not to this or that measure, however prudently devised, however blameless in execution, but to the energy and character of individuals a state must be indebted for its salvation. Then it is that kingdoms rise and fall in proportion as they are upheld, not by well-meant endeavours (however laudable these may be), but by commanding, overawing talent--by able men. And what is the nature of the times in which we live? Look at France, and see what we have to cope with, and consider what has made her what she is--a man! You will tell me that she was great, and powerful, and formidable before the date of Bonaparte’s government--that he found in her great physical and moral resources--that he had but to turn them to account. True; and he did so. Compare the situation in which he found France with that to which he has raised her. I am no panegyrist of Bonaparte; but I cannot shut my eyes to the superiority of his talents--to the amazing ascendency of his genius. Tell me not of his measures and his policy. It is his genius, his character, that keeps the world in awe. Sir, to meet, to check, to curb, to stand up against him, we want arms of the same kind. I am far from objecting to the large military establishments which are proposed to you. I vote for them with all my heart. But, for the purpose of coping with Bonaparte, one great commanding spirit is worth them all!”[114]

Mr. Canning was right. No cant betrays more ignorance than that which affects to undervalue the qualities of public men in the march of public affairs. However circumstances may contribute to make individuals, individuals have as great a share in making circumstances. Had Queen Elizabeth been a weak and timid woman, we might now be speaking Spanish, and have our fates dependent on the struggle between Prim and Narvaez. Had James II. been a wise and prudent man,--instead of the present cry against Irish Catholics, our saints of the day would have been spreading charges against the violence and perfidy of some Puritan Protestant, some English, or perhaps Scotch, O’Connell. Strip Mirabeau of his eloquence, endow Louis XVI. with the courage and the genius of Henry IV., and the history of the last eighty years might be obliterated.

Mr. Canning, I repeat, was right; the great necessity in arduous times is a man who inspires other men; and the satirist, in measuring the two rivals for office, was hardly wrong in saying:

“_As London to Paddington,_ _So Pitt is to Addington._”

XI.

Well-adapted ridicule no public man can withstand, and there seems to have been something peculiar to Mr. Addington that attracted it. Even Mr. Sheridan, his steady supporter to the last (for the main body of the Whigs, under Mr. Fox, when they saw a prospect of power for themselves, uniting with the Grenvillites, went into violent opposition)--even Mr. Sheridan, in those memorable lines:

“I do not love thee, Doctor Fell, The reason why I cannot tell; But this I know, and know full well, I do not love thee, Doctor Fell”:

quoted in defence of the Minister whom so many attacked without saying why they disapproved, furnished a nickname that too well applied to him, and struck the last nail into the coffin that a mingled cohort of friends and enemies bore--a smile on their faces--to the tomb.

Previous to this, the war, which had been suspended by mutual bad faith, was recommenced, each party complaining of the other.

_The man_ to whom Mr. Canning had been so long pointing now came into power, but was not precisely the man, in spite of Mr. Canning’s eulogium, for the sort of crisis in which he assumed it. There was, indeed, a singular contrast in the life of Lord Chatham and that of his son. The first Pitt was essentially a war minister; he seemed to require the sound of the clarion and trumpet and of the guns proclaiming victory from the Tower, to call forth the force and instincts of his genius. In peace he became an ordinary person. The second Pitt, on the contrary, was as evidently a peace minister. In quiet times his government had been eminently successful. Orderly, regular, methodical, with a firm and lofty soul, and the purest motives for his guides, he had carried on the business of the country, steadily, prudently, and ably--heedless of the calumnies of envy, or the combinations of factions: but he wanted that imagination which furnishes resources on unexpected occasions. The mighty convulsion which made the world heave under his feet did not terrify him, but it bewildered him; and nothing could be more unfortunate, or even more wavering, than his conduct when he had to deal with extraordinary events. Still, in one thing he resembled his father--he had unbounded confidence in himself. This sufficed for the moment to give confidence to others; and his stately figure, standing, in the imagination of the nation, by the side of Britannia, added to the indomitable courage of our mariners, and shed a kindred influence over the heroic genius of their chief. But though Mr. Pitt had in a supreme degree the talent of commanding the respect of his followers and admirers, he had not the genial nature which gives sway over equals; and Mr. Fox had of late won to himself many eminent persons who by their opinions and antecedents were more naturally disposed to join his rival. The Premier felt this difficulty, and being wholly above jealousy, would have coalesced with Mr. Fox, and formed a ministry strong in the abilities which at that critical time were so required. But George III., with a narrowness of mind that converted even his good qualities into defects, said, “Bring me whom you please, Mr. Pitt, except Fox.” This exception put an end to the combination in view; for, in spite of Fox’s disinterested remonstrances, or, perhaps, in consequence of them, none of his friends would quit his side.

Nevertheless, proud, accustomed to power, careless of responsibility, defying all opponents, inspiring awe by his towering person and sonorous voice, as well as by the lofty tone of his eloquence and the solitary grandeur of his disposition, alone in front of a stronger phalanx of adversaries than ever, perhaps, before or since, were marshalled against a minister,--Mr. Fox, Mr. Sheridan, Mr. Windham, the Grenvilles, Mr. Grey, Mr. Tierney--as daring and undaunted in appearance as in the first flush of his youthful glory, stood this singular personage, honoured even in his present isolation with the public hopes. But Fortune, which in less eventful moments had followed, chose this fatal moment for deserting him. In vain he turned to his most able supporter for assistance; that early friend, more unfortunate than himself, stood disabled, and exposed to a disgraceful impeachment. The struggle was too severe; it wore out a spirit which nothing could bend or appal. On the 23rd of January, 1806, immediately after the news of the fatal battle of Austerlitz, which chilled the remains of life within him, and on the anniversary of the day on which, twenty-five years before, he had been returned to Parliament, Mr. Pitt died.

XII.

Lord Grenville and Mr. Fox (the King’s antipathy was this time overborne by necessity) formed the new Ministry, in which Lord Sidmouth (late Mr. Addington), who, Mr. Canning said, “was like the small-pox, since everybody must have him once in their lives,” was also included.

During the short time that Mr. Canning had lately held office, his situation as Treasurer of the Navy had invested him with the defence of Lord Melville, a defence which he conducted with much tact and ability, and to this his parliamentary labours had been confined. The employment of “All the Talents” (as the new Administration, comprising men of every party, was called) now left him almost alone amongst the parliamentary debaters in opposition. This position was a fortunate one.

In the most formidable and successful attacks against Lord Ellenborough’s seat in the Cabinet, which was indefensible--against Mr. Windham’s Limited Service Bill, of which party spirit denied the merits--he led the way. His success on all these occasions was great, and the style of his speaking now began to show the effects of care and experience. A less methodic mode of arguing, a greater readiness in replying, had removed the unprepossessing impression of previous study; while an artful rapidity of style permitted that polish of language which is too apt, when unskilfully employed, to become prolix, monotonous, and languid. It was this peculiar polish, accompanied by a studied though apparently natural rapidity, which, becoming more and more perfect as it became apparently more natural, subsequently formed the essential excellence of Mr. Canning’s speaking; for his poetical illustrations required the charm of his delivery, and his jokes, imitated from Mr. Sheridan, were rarely so good as their model; although, even in his manner of introducing and dealing with these, we may trace, as he advanced, a very marked improvement.

The coalition between parties at one time so adverse as those enlisted under the names of Fox, Grenville, and Addington, could only be maintained by the ascendency of that master-spirit which had been so long predominant in the House of Commons. But when Mr. Fox undertook the arduous duties of the Foreign Office, his health (that treasure which statesmen often spend with improvidence, and which he had wasted more than most men) was already beginning to fail, rendering heavy the duties of public life; and in 1806--while our diplomacy at Paris was making a last attempt to effect that honourable peace which had so long been the object of the worn-out minister’s desires--that great statesman, whose generous and noble heart never deceived him, but whose singular capacity in debate was often marred by a remarkable want of judgment in action, followed his haughty predecessor to an untimely grave.

The Grenville Administration, after the death of Mr Fox, was no more the former Administration of Lord Grenville than the mummy, superstitiously presumed to preserve the spirit of the departed, is the real living body of the person who has been embalmed. It avoided, however, the ignominy of a natural death, by being the first Administration which, according to Mr. Sheridan, “not only ran its head against a wall, but actually built a wall for the purpose of running its head against it.” This instrument of suicide was the well-known bill “for securing to all his Majesty’s subjects the privilege of serving in the Army and Navy.” A measure which, by permitting Irish Catholics to hold a higher military rank than the law at that time allowed them, showed the Whig government to be true to its principles, but without tact or ability in carrying them out; for this bill, brought forward honourably but unadvisedly, withdrawn weakly, alarming many, and never granting much, dissatisfied the Catholics, angered the Protestants, and gave the King the opportunity of sending a ministry he disliked about their business, on a pretext which there was sufficient bigotry in the nation to render popular. A dissolution amidst the yell of “No Popery!” took place; and it was by this cry that the party with which Mr. Canning now consented to act reinstalled itself in power.

XIII.

A person well qualified to know the facts of that time, once told me that, not very long before the dissolution of the Ministry to which he succeeded, at a time certainly when that dissolution was not so apparent, Mr. Canning had privately conveyed to Lord Grenville, who had previously made him an offer, his wish to secede from opposition, and had even received a promise that a suitable place (Mr. Windham’s dismissal was at that time arranged) should be reserved for him. Reminded of this when affairs had become more critical, he is said to have observed, “it was too late.” Whatever may be the truth as to this story--and such stories are rarely accurate in all their details--one thing is certain, the brilliant abilities of the aspiring orator, though then and afterwards depreciated by the dull mediocrity which affects to think wit and pleasantry incompatible with the higher and more serious attributes of genius, now became apparent, and carried him through every obstacle to the most important political situation in the country.

LIST OF MINISTERS.

------------------------+--------------------+--------------------- | In March, 1807. | In April, 1807. | | President of the } | Viscount Sidmouth | Earl Camden. Council } | | | | Lord High Chancellor | Lord Erskine | Lord Eldon. | | Lord Privy Seal | Lord Holland | Earl of Westmoreland. | | First Lord of the } | Lord Grenville | Duke of Portland. Treasury } | | | | First Lord of the } | Right Hon. T. } | Lord Mulgrave. Admiralty } | Grenville } | | | Master-General of } | Earl of Moira | Earl of Chatham. the Ordnance } | | | | Secretary of State } | Earl Spencer | { Lord Hawkesbury for the Home Office } | | { (afterwards Lord | | { Liverpool). | | Secretary of State } | Lord Howick | Mr. Canning. for Foreign Affairs } | | | | Secretary for War } | Right Hon. W. } | Lord Castlereagh. and the Colonies } | Windham } | | | President of the } | Lord Auckland | Earl Bathurst. Board of Trade } | | | | Lord Chief Justice | Lord Ellenborough. | | | Chancellor of the } | Lord H. Petty } | Hon. Spencer Perceval. Exchequer } | (afterwards } | | Marquis of } | | Lansdowne) } | | | A seat in the Cabinet } | Earl Fitzwilliam. | without office } | | ------------------------+--------------------+-----------------------

It is remarkable enough that in the Whig or popular cabinet there was only one person (Mr. Windham)--a gentleman of great landed property, as well as of remarkable ability--who was not a lord or a lord’s son. In the Tory cabinet Mr. Canning formed the only similar exception.

The principles on which the new Government stood in respect to the Irish Catholics were soon put to the test by Mr. Brand, afterwards Lord Dacre, who moved:

“That it is contrary to the first duties of the confidential servants of the Crown to restrain themselves by any pledge, expressed or implied, from offering to the King any advice which the course of circumstances may render necessary for the welfare and security of any part of his Majesty’s extensive empire.”

This motion was caused by the King having required the late Government to pledge itself not to bring forward any future measure of Catholic relief, and having dismissed it when it refused thus to fetter its judgment.

Mr. Canning rose amidst an unwilling audience. The imputations to which his early change of principles had exposed him were rather vividly confirmed by the recklessness with which he now appeared to be rushing into office amongst colleagues he had lately professed to despise, and in support of opinions to which he was known to be opposed. The House received him coldly, and with cries of “Question,” as he commenced an explanation or defence, marked by a more than usual moderation of tone and absence of ornament. The terms on which he had been with the former Administration were to a great degree admitted in the following passage:

“For myself, I confidently aver that on the first intimation which I received, from authority I believed to be unquestionable, of the strong difference of opinion subsisting between the King and his Ministers, I took the determination of communicating what I had learnt, and I did communicate it without delay to that part of the late Administration with which, in spite of political differences, I had continued, and with which, so far as my own feelings are concerned, I still wish to continue in habits of personal friendship and regard. I communicated it, with the most earnest advice and exhortation, that they should lose no time in coming to such an explanation and accommodation on the subject at issue as should prevent matters from going to extremities.”

This statement, it is acknowledged, was perfectly correct; but it leaves untouched the tale just alluded to, and which represented the Minister, who was then making his explanations, as having been ready to join an Administration favourable to the Catholic claims, previous to his joining an Administration hostile to those claims. But though I have related this tale as I heard it, I do not pretend to vouch for its accuracy. But without denying or vouching for the truth of this tale (though the authority on which it rests is highly respectable), I may observe, it may be said that “no coalition can take place without previous compromise or intrigue,” and that almost every Administration is formed or supported by coalition.

How, indeed, had the Administration which now gave way been originally composed? Of Mr. Windham, the loudest declaimer for war; of Mr. Fox, the most determined advocate of peace; of Lord Sidmouth, the constant subject of ridicule to both Mr. Windham and Mr. Fox. There was Mr. Sheridan, the champion of annual Parliaments; Lord Grenville, opposed to all reform! Besides, it was at that time accepted as an axiom by a large number of the supporters of the Catholics, that the Sovereign’s health created a justifiable reason for leaving the Catholic question in abeyance, and that the attempt to push it forward at an untimely moment would not really tend to its success.

Nor did Lord Castlereagh, who had always shown himself an honest champion of the Catholic cause, evince more scruples on this matter than the new Foreign Secretary. But if Mr. Canning’s friends made excuses for him, Mr. Canning himself, always saying “that a thrust was the best parry,” felt more disposed to attack the enemy than to defend himself; and many of the political squibs which turned the incapable Administration of “All the Talents” into ridicule, were attributed to his satirical fancy. From 1807 to 1810, he remained in office.

XIV.

The period just cited was marked by our interference in Spain, our attack on Copenhagen, and that expedition to the Scheldt, which hung during two years over the debates in Parliament, like one of the dull fogs of that river.

Our foreign policy, though not always fortunate, could no longer at least be accused of want of character and vigour. As to the intervention in Spain, though marked by the early calamity of Sir John Moore, it was still memorable for having directed the eye of our nation to the vulnerable point in that Colossus whom our consistency and perseverance finally brought to the ground.

The Danish enterprise was of a more doubtful character, and can only be judged of fairly by carrying our minds back to the moment at which it took place. That moment was most critical; every step we took was of importance. Before the armies of France, and the genius of her ruler, lay the vanquished legions of the north and south of Germany. From the House of Hapsburg the crown of Charlemagne was gone; while the throne of the Great Frederick was only yet preserved in the remote city of Königsberg. In vain Russia protracted an inauspicious struggle. The battle of Friedland dictated peace. There remained Sweden, altogether unequal to the conflict in which she had plunged: Denmark protected by an evasive neutrality, which it was for the interest of neither contending party to respect. On the frontiers of Holstein, incapable of defence, hung the armies of France. Zealand and Funen, indeed, were comparatively secure, but people do not willingly abandon the most fertile of their possessions, or defy an enemy because there are portions of their territory which will not sink before the first attack.

Ministers laid some stress on their private information, and it is said that Sir R. Wilson, returning, perhaps it may be said escaping, with extraordinary diligence from Russia after the Peace of Tilsit, brought undeniable intelligence as to the immediate intentions of our new allies. But private information was useless. We do not want to know what a conqueror intends to do, when we know what his character and interests imperatively direct him to do. It would have been absurd, indeed, not to foresee that Napoleon could not rest in neutral neighbourhood on the borders of a country, the possession of which, whether under the title of amity or conquest, was eminently essential to his darling continental system, since through Tonningen were passed into Germany our manufactures and colonial produce. Had this, indeed, been disputable before the famous decree of the 21st of November,[115] that decree removed all doubts.

Denmark, then, had no escape from the mighty war raging around her, and had only to choose between the tyrant of the Continent or the mistress of the seas. If she declared against us, as it was likely she would do, her navy, joined to that of Russia, and, as it soon would be, to that of Sweden, formed a powerful force--not, indeed, for disputing the empire of the ocean; there we might safely have ventured to meet the world in arms; but for assisting in those various schemes of sudden and furtive invasion which each new continental conquest encouraged and facilitated--encompassed, as we became, on all sides by hostile shores. But if the neutrality of the Danes was impossible, if their fleet, should they become hostile to us, might add materially to our peril, was it wrong to make them enter frankly into our alliance, if that were possible, or to deprive them of their worst means of mischief, if they would not?

After all, what did we say to Denmark?--“You cannot any longer retain a doubtful position; you must be for us, or we must consider you against us. ‘_If a friend, you may count on all the energy and resources of Great Britain._’” Denmark had offered to sell a large portion of her marine to Russia, and we offered to purchase it manned. It was required, she said, to defend Zealand; we offered to defend Zealand for her.

But our negotiation failed, and finally we seized, as belonging to a power which was certain to become an enemy, the ships with which she refused to aid us as an ally. A state must be in precisely similar circumstances before it can decide whether it ought to do precisely a similar thing.

Some blamed our conduct as unjust, whilst others praised it as bold. What perhaps may be said is, that if unjust at all, it was not bold enough. War once commenced, Zealand should have been held; the stores and supplies in the merchant docks not left unnoticed; the passage of the Sound kept possession of. In short, our assault on Copenhagen should have been part of a permanent system of warfare, and not suffered to appear a mere temporary act of aggression.

Still it showed in the Minister who planned and stood responsible for it, three qualities, by no means common: secrecy, foresight and decision.

XV.

But if our conduct towards the Danes admits of defence, luckily for Mr. Canning the odium of that miserable expedition against Holland--in which

“Lord Chatham, with his sword undrawn, Stood waiting for Sir Richard Strachan; Sir Richard, longing to be at ’em, Stood waiting for the Earl of Chatham;”

an expedition equally disgraceful to ministers and commanders--fell chiefly on his colleague, who had originated and presided over it, having himself been present at the embarkation.

It is necessary here to say a word or two concerning that statesman, who, though agreeing with Mr. Canning upon the principal question of their time, was never cordially united with him. Lord Castlereagh joined to great boldness in action,--great calm and courtesy of manner, long habits of official routine, and a considerable acquaintance with men collectively and individually. He lived in the world, and was more essentially a man of the world than his eloquent contemporary; but, on the other hand, he was singularly deficient in literary accomplishments, and this deficiency was not easily pardoned in an assembly, the leading members of which had received a classical education, and were as intolerant to an ungrammatical phrase as to a political blunder. His language--inelegant, diffuse, and mingling every variety of metaphorical expression--was the ridicule of the scholar. Still the great air with which he rose from the Treasury Bench, threw back his blue coat, and showed his broad chest and white waistcoat, looking defiance on the ranks of the Opposition, won him the hearts of the rank and file of the government adherents. In affairs, he got through the details of office so as to satisfy forms, but not so as to produce results: for if the official men who can manufacture plans on paper are numerous, the statesmen who can give them vitality in action are rare; and Lord Castlereagh was not one of them.

There was never, as I have just said, any great cordiality or intimacy between two persons belonging to the same party and aspiring equally to play the principal part in it. The defects of each, moreover, were just of that kind that would be most irritating to the eye of the other; but they would probably have gone on rising side by side, if they had not now been thrown together and almost identified in common action. The success of most of Mr. Canning’s schemes as Minister of Foreign Affairs depended greatly upon the skill with which Lord Castlereagh, as Minister of War, carried them into execution; any error of the latter affected the reputation of the former; thus the first difficulty was sure to produce a quarrel. Mr. Canning indeed was constantly complaining that every project that was conceived by the Foreign Office miscarried when it fell under the care of the War Office; that all the gold which he put into his colleague’s crucible came out, somehow or other, brass; and these complaints were the more bitter, since, involuntarily influenced by his rhetorical predilections, he could not help exaggerating the consequences of mistakes in conduct, which were aggravated by mistakes in grammar.

Nevertheless, wishing, very probably, to avoid a public scandal, he merely told the head of the Government privately that a change must take place in the Foreign or in the War Department, and, after some little hesitation, the removal of Lord Castlereagh was determined on; but some persons from whom, perhaps, that statesman had no right to expect desertion, anxious to keep their abandonment of him concealed as long as possible, requested delay; and the Duke of Portland, a man of no resolution, not daring to consent to the resignation of one of the haughty gentlemen with whom he had to deal, was glad to defer the affront that it was intended to put on to the other. Such being the state of things, Mr. Canning was prevailed upon to allow the matter to stand over for a while, receiving at the same time the most positive assurances as to his request being finally complied with. At the end of the session and the conclusion of the enterprise (against Flushing) already undertaken, some arrangement was to be proposed, “satisfactory, it was hoped, to all parties.” Such is the usual hope of temporising politicians. But, in the meantime, the Secretary of War was allowed to suppose that he carried into the discharge of the duties of his high post, all the confidence and approbation of the Cabinet.

This was not a pleasant state of things to discover in the moment of adversity; when the whole nation felt itself disgraced at the pitiful termination of an enterprise which had been very lavishly prepared and very ostentatiously paraded. Yet such was the moment when Mr. Canning, fatigued at the Premier’s procrastination, disgusted by the calamity which he attributed to it, and resolved to escape, if possible, from a charge of incapacity, beneath which the whole Ministry was likely to be crushed, threw up his appointment, and the unfortunate Secretary of War learnt that for months his abilities had been distrusted by a majority of the Cabinet in which he sat, and his situation only provisionally held on the ill-extorted acquiescence of a man he did not like, and who underrated and disliked him. His irritation vented itself in a letter which produced a duel--a duel that Mr. Canning was not justly called upon to fight; for all that he had done was to postpone a decision he had a perfect right to adopt, and which he deferred expressly in order to spare Lord Castlereagh’s feelings and at the request of Lord Castlereagh’s friends. But the one of these gentlemen was quite as peppery and combative as the other, though it appeared he was not quite so good a shot, for Mr. Canning missed his opponent and received a disagreeable wound, though not a dangerous one; the final result of the whole affair being the resignation of the Premier and of the two Secretaries of State, the country paying twenty millions (the cost of the late barren attempt at glory) because the friends of a minister had shrunk from saying anything unpleasant to him until he was prostrate.