His successor, William IV., was greatly inferior to him intellectually, and infinitely less conversant with the business of state. Most of this prince's early life was spent at sea, where he saw a fair share of service, and became the friend of Nelson, but incurred his father's displeasure by infringing the rules of discipline. Having been created Duke of Clarence in 1789, he was rapidly promoted in the navy, but remained on shore without employment for some forty years before his accession, taking an occasional part in debates of the house of lords, and generally acting with the whig party. During this long period he was little regarded by his future subjects, and led a somewhat obscure life, at first in the company of Mrs. Jordan, by whom he had a numerous family. After his marriage with the Princess Adelaide of Saxe-Meiningen in 1818, he became a more important personage, and, as we have seen, was made lord high admiral by Canning, but held office for little more than a year. He was thus entirely destitute of political training, and was living in privacy when he was called to ascend the throne on the eve of a singularly momentous crisis.
The session was prolonged until July 23, when parliament was prorogued by the new king in person, and on the following day a dissolution was proclaimed, the writs being made returnable on September 14. During the month that elapsed between the death of George IV. and the prorogation, no serious business was done, but the leaders of opposition in both houses moved to provide for a regency, in view of a possible demise of the crown before a fresh parliament could be assembled. This course was clearly dictated by the highest expediency, for, had the king's life been cut short suddenly, the young Princess Victoria, then eleven years old, would have become sovereign with full powers, but without protection against the baleful influence of her uncle, the Duke of Cumberland, the least trustworthy person in the realm. In advocating it, however, the whigs showed an evident disposition to win the favour of William IV., who had never broken away, like his predecessor, from his whig connexion. These motions were defeated, but the opposition gained popularity at the expense of the government, by raising debates on certain state prosecutions for libel, and on the question of colonial slavery. Their position was further strengthened by a widespread impression that the king himself was a reformer at heart, and would seize an early opportunity of declaring his sentiments. His weakness had not yet disclosed itself, while his kindliness earned him golden opinions, as he "walked in London streets with his umbrella under his arm, and gave a frank and sailor-like greeting to all old acquaintances".
The election of 1830, following close on the revolution of July in Paris, was the death-blow of the old tory rule in England. The widespread sympathy which the original uprising of 1789 had excited among Englishmen, but which the atrocities of jacobinism had quenched, was now revived by the comparatively bloodless victory of constitutional principles and the accession of a citizen-king in France. The growing enthusiasm for reform, thus stimulated, exercised a decisive effect in all the constituencies except the pocket-boroughs. Brougham was returned without opposition for Yorkshire, and Hume by a large majority for Middlesex, two brothers of Sir Robert Peel lost their seats, and Croker was defeated for Dublin University. Distrust of the government was equally shown in the counties and in the great cities, but in some instances ultra-tories were elected, in revenge for catholic emancipation or for alleged neglect of agricultural interests. It was calculated that fifty seats, in all, had changed hands, and the parliament which assembled in October 26 was very different in constitution and temper from any of those which supported tory ministries with unshaken constancy during the great war and the long period of agitation consequent on the peace.
The losses of the government in Great Britain, partly due to its Irish policy, were not compensated by any gain in Ireland, which did not fail to display the ingratitude so often experienced by its benefactors. Catholic emancipation was now treated as a vantage ground on which the battle of repeal might be waged. Association after association was formed by O'Connell, only to be put down by proclamation and to re-appear under another name. The worst passions of the people were effectually roused, assassinations became frequent, and Peel's correspondence with Hardinge, then chief secretary, shows that he fully recognised the failure of his experiment, as a cure for Irish anarchy.[101] In the course of this new agitation, O'Connell used most offensive expressions for which Hardinge called him to account. The chief secretary's act may have been unjustifiable, but the shuffling and faint-hearted conduct of O'Connell in declining this and later challenges provoked by his foul language was fatal to his reputation for courage. The most insolent of bullies, he never failed to consult his own personal safety, by professing conscientious objections to duelling, as well as by keeping just outside the meshes of the criminal law.
THE DEATH OF HUSKISSON.
A few weeks before parliament met a tragical accident closed the life of Huskisson, whose death was rendered all the more impressive by its circumstances. In 1825 the idea of railways for the rapid conveyance of goods and passengers bore fruit in an act for the construction of a line between Liverpool and Manchester. It was not in itself a new idea, for tramways had long been in use, and so far back as 1814 George Stephenson had constructed a locomotive engine for a colliery. But it was generally believed that such engines must always be limited to a speed of a few miles an hour, and even the great engineer, Telford, giving evidence before a committee in 1825, did not venture to speak of a higher maximum speed than fifteen or twenty miles an hour. Few indeed were far-sighted enough to credit this estimate, and the incredulity of ignorance was aided by the forces of self-interest, for the profits of canals, stage-coaches, and carriers' vans were directly threatened by the innovation of railways. However, George Stephenson quietly persevered, and from the moment that his pioneer engine, the "Rocket," won the prize in a great competition of locomotives, "the old modes of transit were changed throughout the whole civilised world". On September 15, 1830, the first public trial of this and other engines was made at the opening of the Liverpool and Manchester railway. Wellington, Peel, and other eminent personages were present, among whom was Huskisson, just returned for Liverpool. Two trains proceeded towards Manchester on parallel lines, and stopped at the Parkgate station. There several passengers got out, and Huskisson was making his way to shake hands with the duke when he was struck by a carriage of the other train, already in movement, fell upon the rails, and was fatally crushed. He bore his sufferings with great fortitude, but died during the night at a neighbouring vicarage to which he was carried. He could ill be spared by his party, for, though he was not the man to ride the storm which raged over the reform bill, his counsels might have saved the whigs from the just reproach of financial incapacity and have hastened the advent of free trade.
WELLINGTON ON REFORM.
The winter session of 1830 opened with an ominous calm. It was believed that private negotiations were going on between the ministry and the survivors of Canning's following, which might result in a moderate scheme of parliamentary reform. These expectations were utterly discomfited by the king's speech delivered on November 2. It has unjustly been described as "the most offensive that had been uttered by any monarch since the revolution". On the contrary, it was tame and colourless for the most part, recording his majesty's resolution to uphold treaties and enforce order in the United Kingdom, but welcoming the new French monarchy in terms which Grey emphatically commended. It gave offence to liberals by describing the revolutionary movement in Belgium as a "revolt"; but what called forth an immediate outburst of popular resentment was its significant reticence on the subject of reform. This resentment was aggravated tenfold by the Duke of Wellington's celebrated speech in the lords, declaring against any reform whatever. The duke always refused to admit that this declaration was the cause of his subsequent fall, which he attributed, by preference, to his adoption of catholic emancipation. Speaking deliberately in reply to Grey, who had indicated reform as the only true remedy for popular discontent, the duke stated that no measure of reform yet proposed would, in his opinion, improve the representative system then existing, which, he said, "answered all the good purposes of legislation" to a greater degree than "any legislature in any country whatever". He went further, and avowed his conviction not only that this system "possessed the full and entire confidence of the country," but also that no better system could be devised by the wit of man. Its special virtue, according to him, consisted in the fact of its producing a representative assembly which "contained a large body of the property of the country, and in which the landed interests had a preponderating influence". Finally, he protested that he would never bring forward a reform measure himself, and that "he should always feel it his duty to resist such measures when proposed by others".
There is no reason to suppose that the duke had consulted any of his colleagues before making this declaration. Indeed, it is known that Peel had just before received a confidential offer of co-operation in carrying a moderate reform bill from Palmerston, Edward Stanley, grandson of the Earl of Derby, Sir James Graham, and the Grants; nor had these overtures been definitely rejected.[102] Some lame attempts were made to clear the cabinet, as a whole, from responsibility for their chief's outspoken opinions, and Peel cautiously limited himself to a doubt whether any safe measure of reform would satisfy the reformers. But he would not separate himself from Wellington, and Wellington's ultimatum remained unretracted.
Brougham at once gave notice of his intention to bring forward the question of parliamentary reform in a fortnight. In the meantime the duke had committed a mistake which irritated the people, and especially the inhabitants of London. It happened that the king and queen, with the ministers, were engaged to dine with the lord mayor on November 9. Three days earlier, the lord mayor-elect warned the prime minister that a riot was apprehended on that occasion, that an attempt would probably be made to assassinate him, and that it would be desirable to come attended by a strong military guard. Upon this intimation, confirmed by others, the cabinet most unwisely decided not to surround the mansion house with a large armed force, but to put off the king's visit to the city. A panic naturally ensued, consols fell three per cent. in an hour and a half, and the disorderly classes achieved a victory without running the smallest risk. There were local disturbances in the evening, and the duke arranged to join Peel at the home office, in case decisive measures should be required, but the new police were too strong for the mob, and the whole affair passed off quietly, though not without involving the government in some ridicule. The Marquis Wellesley, now in opposition to his brother, declared the postponement of the dinner to be "the boldest act of cowardice" within his knowledge.