Eldon had worked his way laboriously from the very foot to the topmost rung of the legal ladder. It was his own early experiences that inspired him to say that nothing did a young lawyer so much good as to be half-starved. And in action as well as in word he always maintained that the only road to success at the Bar was "to live like a hermit, and work like a horse."
He was in many ways an original character. He always wore his Chancellor's wig in society, and was otherwise unconventional. One day, after reading much of "Paradise Lost," he was asked what he thought of Milton's "Satan." "A d——d fine fellow," he replied; "I hope he may win." In spite of this view, however, he was an extremely religious man, though he did not attend divine service regularly. Indeed, when some one referred to him as a "pillar of the church," he demurred, saying that he might justly be called a buttress but not a pillar of the church, since he was never to be found inside it. He is probably the most typical Tory of the old school that can be found in political history. His conservatism was of an almost incredibly standstill and reactionary character. As Walter Bagehot said of him in a famous passage, he believed in everything which it is impossible to believe in—"in the danger of Parliamentary Reform, the danger of Catholic Emancipation, the danger of altering the Court of Chancery, the danger of altering the Courts of Law, the danger of abolishing capital punishment for trivial thefts, the danger of making landowners pay their debts, the danger of making anything more, the danger of making anything less."[172]
Though on political questions Eldon could make up his mind quickly enough, on the bench the extreme deliberation with which he gave judicial decisions was the subject of endless complaints. He agreed with Lord Bacon that "whosoever is not wiser upon advice than upon the sudden, the same man is not wiser at fifty than he was at thirty."[173] His perpetual hesitation in Court, the outcome of an intense desire to be scrupulously just, gave rise to attacks both in Parliament and the press.[174]
LORD ELDON
FROM THE PAINTING BY SIR THOMAS LAWRENCE, P.R.A., IN THE NATIONAL PORTRAIT GALLERY
A Commission was eventually appointed, ostensibly to inquire into the means by which time and expense might be saved to suitors in Chancery—where, as Sydney Smith said, Lord Eldon "sat heavy on mankind"—but really to expose the dilatory methods of the Chancellor. Eldon came well out of the inquiry, however, and it was proved that in the twenty-four years during which he had held the Great Seal, but few of his decisions had been appealed against, and still fewer reversed.
If some fault could be found with Lord Eldon for being a slow if steady worker, no such complaint could be levelled at the head of Lord Brougham. The latter, indeed, erred on the side of extreme haste, and was as restless on the bench as Eldon was composed, and as ignorant and careless of his duties as his predecessor was learned and scrupulous. Brougham's cleverness, was, however, amazing. If he had known a little law, as Lord St. Leonards dryly observed, he would have known a little of everything. He has been called "the most misinformed man in Europe," and in early life, when he was one of the original founders of the Edinburgh Review, is said to have written a whole number himself, including articles upon lithotomy and Chinese music. His ability and brilliance were unsurpassed, and his oratory was superb. His famous speech (as her Attorney-General) in defence of Queen Caroline was one of the finest forensic efforts ever heard in the House of Lords.[175] His many talents have been epitomised in a famous saying of Rogers: "This morning Solon, Lycurgus, Demosthenes, Archimedes, Sir Isaac Newton, Lord Chesterfield, and a great many more, went away in one post-chaise." Yet he was eminently unsuccessful as Chancellor, and his domineering fashion of treating his colleagues made him extremely unpopular. Brougham's loquacity was intolerable, and his conceit immense. "The Whigs are all cyphers," he once declared, "and I am the only unit in the Cabinet that gives a value to them." It must, however, be admitted that he was a great statesman if not a great Chancellor, and that to his unique intellectual talents we owe in great measure the emancipation of the negro slave and the passing of the Reform Bill.
In his lifetime, Brougham was almost universally disliked and feared. "A 'B' outside and a wasp within," said some wag, pointing to the simple initial on the panel of that carriage which Brougham invented, and which still bears his name.[176] And this was the popular view of that Chancellor whom Sheil called "a bully and a buffoon." Even his friends distrusted him, and in 1835, when Lord Melbourne returned to power, the Great Seal, which Brougham had held but a year before, was not returned to him, but was put into Commission. No reasons were assigned for this step, but they were sufficiently obvious. "My Lords," said Melbourne in the Upper House, when Brougham subsequently attacked him with intense bitterness, "you have heard the eloquent speech of the noble and learned Lord—one of the most eloquent he ever delivered in this House—and I leave your Lordships to consider what must be the nature and strength of the objections which prevent my Government from availing themselves of the services of such a man!"[177] Perhaps one of the strongest objections was the intense dislike with which the ex-Chancellor was regarded by the King. This was not lessened by the cavalier fashion in which Brougham treated his sovereign. When he was forced to return the Great Seal into the Royal hands in 1834, he did not deliver it in person, as was proper, but sent it in a bag by a messenger, "as a fishmonger," says Lord Campbell, "might have sent a salmon for the King's dinner!"
A Privy Councillor, by virtue of his office, and "Prolocutor of the House of Lords by prescription,"[178] the Lord High Chancellor of Great Britain occupies to-day the "oldest and most dignified of the lay offices of the Crown." By ancient statute, to kill him is a treasonable offence, and his post as Lord Keeper is not determined by the demise of the Crown. He enjoys precedence after the Royal Family and the Archbishop of Canterbury, holds one of the most prominent places in the Cabinet, and is the highest paid servant of the Crown.
In Henry I.'s time the Lord Keeper of the Great Seal was paid 5s. a day, and received a "livery" of provisions, a pint and a half of claret, one "gross wax-light" and forty candle-ends. The Chancellor's perquisites used always to include a liberal supply of wine from the King's vineyards in Gascony. At the beginning of the nineteenth century, he received a salary of £19,000; but Lord Eldon, in 1813, gave up £5000 of this to the Vice-Chancellor, and for a long time the Woolsack was worth £14,000 a year. A modern Chancellor's salary is £10,000—£5000 as Lord Chancellor, and £5000 as Speaker of the House of Lords—and he is further entitled to a pension of half that amount on retirement.