What were Lord Melbourne’s real political convictions? Some have said that he was in his heart a Conservative. He was undoubtedly less advanced in his opinions than many of his colleagues, and he sometimes exhibited a half-laughing, half-sorrowful disbelief in the result expected by others from constitutional changes. This, coupled with a love of mischief and a delight in startling people, made him appear less advanced than he was—as when he said about Catholic Emancipation, that all the wise men in the country had been on one side of the question, and all the fools on the other, and that the fools had turned out to be right after all; when he told some ardent reformers that the men who originated the Reform Bill ought to be hung on a gallows forty feet high; and when he remarked to Lord John Russell that he did not see that there was much use in education. These remarks, however, did not express his real convictions. His was essentially that kind of mind which sees clearly both sides of a question. His position would naturally have been very near the border-line which divides the two parties, and on which it is impossible for any public man in England permanently to stand, but it would have been, under any circumstances, on the Liberal side of that line.
As leader of the House of Lords he was, on the whole, successful—certainly not the reverse. But he had the misfortune to be opposed and most bitterly attacked, during a great part of his Administration, by the two greatest orators of the day, and he received little support from his own side. Of his speaking it has been said that if it had been a little better, it would have been quite first-rate. He never prepared a speech, and he hesitated a good deal, except when under the influence of excitement. But at his worst he was always plain, unpretending, and sensible; and his voice and appearance were of themselves sufficient to command attention. When roused he could be forcible, and even eloquent for a few minutes, and he always gave the impression that he only wanted rousing to become so. The most powerful of his opponents never could feel sure that he might not at any moment receive a sudden knock-down blow, and both Brougham and Lyndhurst more than once experienced this.
On the accession of the Queen in 1837, Lord Melbourne found himself suddenly placed in a most trying and most responsible position. This is the part of his career which is best known, and in which his conduct has been most appreciated; and I do not think there is any other instance on record of the confidential and affectionate relations subsisting between a Sovereign and a Minister so interesting to dwell upon. It is difficult to say to which of the two these relations were productive of the greatest benefit. Her Majesty was indeed fortunate in finding such a counsellor; his large-minded fairness, his impartial appreciation of the motives and feelings of all parties in the State—that philosophical power of seeing both sides of a question, to which I have alluded, and which perhaps stood in his way as a party leader,—were, under present circumstances, of unmixed advantage. His vast political and historical knowledge supplied him with ready information on every subject, which I need hardly say he imparted in the most agreeable manner; and his judgment, stimulated by the gravity of the situation, enabled him to give sound advice, at least on all the deeper and more important matters which properly belonged to his position. To the Minister himself this new stimulant was invaluable. His life had never quite recovered from the blight cast upon it in his early manhood. He had long suffered from want of an object for which he really cared; his thoughtful temperament too much inclined him in his serious moments to realise the vanity of all things; but he now found a new interest which animated his remaining years of activity, and which afterwards solaced him in illness, in depression, and intellectual decay.
Nobly did the Queen repay this chivalrous devotion and this unselfish solicitude for her welfare. Her clear intellect readily assimilated his wisdom, and her truthful and just nature responded sympathetically to his enlightened and generous views. And there was no ingratitude or subsequent neglect to mar the harmony of the picture, for to the last hour of his existence her kindness and attention were without a break. Her Majesty has been fortunate in many of her advisers—fortunate more particularly in her illustrious husband,—but such is the force of early impression, that, perhaps, no small part of the sagacity and the virtue which have signalised her reign may be traced to the influence of Lord Melbourne.
This little biographical notice must now be concluded. In 1841 his Administration came to an end. In the autumn of 1842 he had a paralytic stroke. He recovered, and lived till 1848, and was able to take his place in the House of Lords, and to appear in society. But his sweet temper was soured, and his spirits became unequal; his bright intellect was dimmed, and his peculiarities assumed an exaggerated form. He had been so famous in earlier days for the brilliancy of his conversation, that even after his illness people remembered and repeated what he said. This has done his reputation some injury, and the stories told about him do not always convey a correct impression of his ability or his charm.
The life which I have attempted to sketch was an eventful one, and Lord Melbourne took no small share in the movements of his time. But it seems to have been the impression of all who met him, that he might have done much more than he ever did, and that he was a far abler and greater man than many who have filled a larger space in history.
C.
No. 8.
ELIZABETH MILBANKE, WIFE OF THE FIRST VISCOUNT MELBOURNE.