It was under the weight of its own efforts, and of the movement that it had itself inaugurated, that the great Whig ministry, so wisely and ably directed by Lord Grey, succumbed. It had opened the way to wild hopes and infinite illusions, without the power to satisfy the one, or moderate the other; it was swept away by a rising wave which it vainly endeavored to resist. It is to its honor and lasting glory, that it used prudently and courageously the immense power, still new and confused, that parliamentary reform had placed in its hand, without exceeding the limits which it had itself imposed. Its measures were moderate and wise, its resistance to the desires and insensate passions of the masses were honest and firm. Lord Grey remained popular, even after the fall of his ministry. The internal affairs of the nation had been so important, and the interests involved so pressing, that the foreign policy of the cabinet had received but little attention in either house, and was almost lost sight of by the general public. It had nevertheless touched upon weighty matters, essential to the repose of Europe; the relations of England with the French government after the revolution of 1830, the formation of the kingdom of Belgium, and the Spanish question. These last two European complications had put to the test the good feeling which existed between the French and English governments: they had definitively served to confirm and strengthen the alliance of the two nations. The recognition of Louis Philippe by England had been cordial and prompt; very different from the ill-humor and repugnance manifested by Prussia and Russia. It had its origin in a spontaneous and sincere national sentiment, the adhesion of the country to the liberal and conservative policy which had succeeded the revolutionary movement in France. The new union and the good understanding which naturally resulted from this attitude of England, contributed powerfully to the happy issue of the Belgium question. The smouldering dissatisfaction which had existed throughout several centuries, between the Flemish Low Countries and Holland, had finally burst forth; the union was abruptly broken. Immediately following the separation, the new state demanded of the King Louis Philippe, one of his sons for the throne of Belgium. He refused. "The Low Countries have always been a stumbling block to the peace of Europe," said he to Guizot. "None of the great powers can see them in the hands of another, without great inquietude and jealousy. Let them become by general consent an independent and neutral state, and that state will become the keystone of the arch of European order." These wise and prudent views were approved by both the English and French cabinets. The King Louis Philippe had sent Talleyrand to London, and Lord Granville was the English ambassador at Paris. Both were well qualified for the work they had undertaken; the efficacious union of France and England for the maintenance of the peace of Europe.
The first result of their efforts was the accession of the Prince Leopold of Saxe-Coburg to the throne of Belgium. But lately the adored husband of the Princess Charlotte of England, and still popular in his adopted country, the new sovereign bound himself to France by espousing the Princess Louise, eldest daughter of Louis Philippe.
The two powers testified their satisfaction and good-will by delivering his country from the presence of the Holland forces. After an agreement signed at London on the 22nd of October, 1832, not without a certain distrust on the part of Lord Palmerston, charged with the administration of foreign affairs in the cabinet of Lord Grey, the Belgian fortresses still occupied by the Holland troops were evacuated. A French army under Marshal Gérard, accompanied by the young Duke of Orleans, laid siege to Anvers. This place, already the scene of so many bloody conflicts, and so many diplomatic negotiations, during centuries past, was obliged to capitulate, on the 23rd of December, 1832. The kingdom of Belgium was now definitively constituted, and destined to prosper rapidly under its wise and prudent sovereign, who constantly endeavored to maintain around him that equilibrium so essential to the preservation of peace in Europe, and so indispensable to the development as well as the security of his little state.
Spain had been for a long time the object of profound anxiety to the astute statesmen of Europe. King Ferdinand VII. had just died (September, 1833), leaving the succession to the throne contested, notwithstanding the definitive act, sanctioned by the Cortes, which had assured the crown to his eldest daughter Isabella. Hesitating for a long time between family affection and those absolute tendencies which had exiled into France all the intelligent liberals of Spain, the monarch who had just breathed his last, had scattered the seeds of the Carlist insurrection, which broke out immediately after his death. A numerous and obstinate party sustained the right of the infant Don Carlos to the throne, in the name of the Salic law established in Spain by the pragmatic sanction of Philip V., and recognized for some time by Ferdinand VII. himself. The English and French cabinets did not hesitate; by common consent they recognized the titles of the young Queen Isabella II., as conformable to the ancient Spanish law accepted by the nation. Civil war broke out in Spain. It had already begun in Portugal, where the usurper Don Miguel, contended in the name of the same principles for the exclusion of the young Queen Donna Maria. Already the new governments of the two kingdoms were compelled to ask assistance of the great constitutional and liberal powers.
On the 15th of April, 1834, the triple alliance was concluded at London between England, Spain and Portugal. A month later, and upon the objection of the French government to the presumptions, exclusively English, of Lord Palmerston, France in her turn joined the alliance already known and powerful in Europe, although no armed intervention had seconded the popular movement. Civil war did not cease in Spain; it lasted for a long time, breaking out anew at irregular intervals, yet always ardent and obstinate. Meanwhile Don Carlos had embarked for England, and Don Miguel had finally quitted Portugal, and retired into Italy. Everywhere French and English diplomacy had been moderately but firmly exerted in the service of the public welfare, and had everywhere brought forth good fruit.
Wearied by the yoke that the Whigs had imposed upon him, and by the violence he had done to his own views and inclinations, the king called upon the Duke of Wellington. For the first time that noble hero refused to serve his sovereign. "No sir," said he, "in the new order of things the difficulties lie in the House of Commons; and as that House now has the preponderance, its chief ought to direct the government. Address yourself to Sir Robert Peel; I will serve under him in any position that it shall please your majesty to place me." Sir Robert Peel was in Italy—so also was Fox, when called upon to succeed Pitt. While awaiting his return, the Duke of Wellington, in concert with Lord Lyndhurst, appointed chancellor, conducted alone the affairs of the government, and taking charge of three ministerial departments, without other solicitude than the prompt expedition of the work, he cared but little for the objections which were raised against this irregular administration. Sir Robert Peel accepted the burden which was imposed upon him and upon his friends, without either co-operation or support from without. Lord Stanley and Sir James Graham refused to enter the cabinet. The Tories found themselves alone in the face of a House of Commons profoundly hostile. Parliament was immediately dissolved.
Sir Robert Peel, in expounding his principles in a long address to his constituents at Tamworth, said: "I will repeat the declaration which I made when I entered the House of Commons as a member of the Reformed Parliament;—I consider the reform bill as a final and irrevocable settlement of a great constitutional question—a settlement which no friend to the peace and welfare of his country would attempt to disturb, either by direct or indirect means. If by the adoption of the spirit of the reform bill, it becomes necessary to live in a perpetual vortex of agitation, that public men can only sustain themselves in public opinion by yielding to popular demands of each day, by promising to redress immediately all abuses that may be pointed out, by abandoning that great support of the government, more efficacious than law or reason itself—the respect for ancient rights and authorities consecrated by time; if that is the spirit of the reform bill, I will not support it. If the spirit of the bill implies merely a careful review of institutions, civil and ecclesiastical, undertaken in a friendly temper; combining, with the firm maintenance of established rights, the correction of proved abuses and the redress of real grievances;—in that case I can for myself and my colleagues undertake to act with such a spirit and with such intentions."
And some weeks later, after his first check in the new Parliament, upon the election of speaker, he continued: "I make you great offers, which ought not to be inconsiderately rejected. I offer you the prospect of a durable peace, the return of the confidence of powerful states who are disposed to seize this occasion to reduce their armies and remove the danger of hostile collisions. I offer you reduced estimates, improvements in civil jurisprudence, reform of ecclesiastical laws, the settlement of the tithe question in Ireland, the commutation of tithes in England, the removal of any real abuse in the Church, and the redress of those grievances of which the dissenters have any just ground to complain. I offer also the best chance that these things can be effected, in willing concert with the other authorities of the state—thus restoring harmony, insuring the maintenance, but not excluding the reform, where reform is really requisite, of ancient institutions. You may reject my offers, you may refuse to hear them, but if you do so, the time is approaching when you will perceive that the popular sentiment upon which you have relied has abandoned you."