He had already distinguished himself by his poetical talents, and the Eton boy had given promise of what the man might be. During one of his visits to his aunt, there was a benefit concert given at our Assembly Rooms, to which I was chaperoned by an old lady of my acquaintance. Till the middle of the first Act we were able to hear and enjoy the music, but then our attention was disturbed by the entrance of George Canning’s aunt, with a large party. Unfortunately, they took their seats before us, and instead of listening to the music, began to converse, as if nothing was going on. I was not so much annoyed as I otherwise should have been, because I was told that the young man before me was the Eton boy, whose productions had been so much admired. I was, therefore, interested in examining his countenance, and was pleased to hear his voice, though exerted during a violin concerto!
But I shared at length in the displeasure of my companion, who, finding the predestined orator becoming more and more vociferous, gave him a rap on the shoulder with her fan, and when he turned round, astonished at the blow, shook her head at him reproachfully. He understood the appeal, and bowed his head gracefully and respectfully in return; nor did he offend again, but evidently reproved the talkativeness of his party. This delighted my old lady and still more myself. The feeling and well-bred youth, did not yet think he had made sufficient amends; and as soon as the Act was concluded he came up to my aged friend, and, with an ingenuous blush on his cheek, he said, “I am very sorry, ma’am, that I interfered with your pleasure by my talking just now, and am really ashamed of myself, pray excuse me; I assure you I will not offend again.” The old lady received the apology as graciously as it was made; and my young heart rejoiced to find that this boy, in spite of the head-turning honours which were his at this early period, was possessed of, what a long life’s observation has taught me to believe is almost the rarest quality, namely, a due consideration for the rights of others in little things. From that time he possessed a higher niche in my esteem, than his successes at Eton could have given him.
Many years elapsed before I saw him again; for though I became rather intimate with his aunt, he never visited at the house while I happened to be one of the guests; and at an early period of my life, the family quitted Norwich. But I saw him soon after he obtained a seat in Parliament, (1793,) and when the Pitt administration had won the young orator from his early political friends, and ranked him amongst their adherents. At the time to which I allude he was standing on Windsor Terrace, bare headed; his cheek evidently flushed with pleasurable emotion, and listening to George the Third, who, with the Queen, and the Royal Family, was taking his evening walk there. The Royal party stopped some time before the young member, and it was with an emotion of pleasure that I saw him thus publicly distinguished by his Sovereign.
The last time I beheld him, was in the Hall of Buckingham House, when the Queen and Regent received at that palace, and he was returning from a levée. With what increased interest did I then behold him; he was then in middle life, but I saw the same character of face, and features, as when I was interested in the Eton boy. How different was now his bearing; how different the character of his person altogether! There was a degree of dignity in his mien, and a loftiness in the carriage of his head, which a well-founded consciousness of his importance in the scale of society would naturally give, at the same time, there was a slight expression of sadness in his smiles; yet he might be justly called the child of prosperous ambition! His talents had raised him to the highest offices of the state; his eloquence was the delight of his friends, and the terror of his enemies; he had formed a high and happy connexion in marriage; he was admired by his opponents, and loved by his intimates; and it seemed as if this world could bestow on him nothing more!
But even then, the corroding cares of public life and their awful responsibilities, were, no doubt, preparing to fasten on his heart, and gradually destroy the functions of life. Stormy grew the political horizon during the years that ensued; though on the whole, he may be said (to use his own words) “to have weathered the storm;” and, at the period of his untimely death, he seemed to have overcome every prejudice against him; and when he fell a victim to his public duties, a universal lamentation attended his exit, and a universal plaudit!
Among his mourners, none was more sincere than myself, and rarely, even yet, do I pass his statue, without breathing a sigh to his memory, and exclaiming, as I gaze on that sculptured form, “Oh rare George Canning!”
| [43] | This alludes to Mrs. Opie’s keeping a table at the yearly sale of the Repository, for the Norwich Sick poor Society; this she did during many years, and an admirable saleswoman she was. On one of these occasions she wrote to a friend, “Simeon’s Life is most precious to me. I have had extracts from it made, and printed, to be sold at the Repository.” |