the armament was sent out to the Scheldt. In the selection of
the earl of Chatham as commander the king’s personal preference
was known, but there is evidence also that it was one of Canning’s
schemes, as he reckoned, if Chatham succeeded, on turning him
into a convenient ministerial figurehead. Canning was not
openly opposed to the Walcheren expedition, and on the Peninsular
question he mainly differed from Castlereagh and Wellington
in fixing his hopes on national enthusiasm and popular uprisings.
Military opinion is generally agreed that the plan of striking
from Walcheren at Antwerp, the French naval base, was sound.
Napoleon heard the news with dismay; in principle Wellington
approved the plan. Castlereagh’s proposal was for a coup de
main, under strict conditions of celerity and secrecy, as Antwerp
was unable to make any adequate defence. But Chatham, the
naval authorities and the cabinet proceeded with a deliberation
explained by the fact that the war secretary had been condemned
in secret. The expedition, planned at the end of March,
did not reach Walcheren till the end of July 1809; and more
time was lost in movements against Batz and Flushing, protracted
until an unhealthy autumn prostrated the army, which
was withdrawn, discredited and disabled, in September. Public
opinion threw the whole blame upon Castlereagh, who then found
that, in deference to Canning, his colleagues had decreed his
removal half a year earlier, though they kept silence till the
troops were brought back from Walcheren. When Castlereagh
learned from Percival that the slur cast on him had its origin
in a secret attack on him many months before, he was cruelly
hurt. The main charge against him was, he says, that he would
not throw over officers on whom unpopularity fell, at the first
shadow of ill-fortune. His refusal to rush into censure of Moore,
following Canning’s sudden change from eulogy to denunciation,
requires no defence. According to the ideas then prevailing
Castlereagh held himself justified in sending a challenge to the
original author, as he held, of a disloyal intrigue against a colleague.
In the subsequent duel Canning was wounded and the
rivals simultaneously resigned. In private letters to his father
and brother, Castlereagh urged that he was bound to show that
he “was not privy to his own disgrace.” When Canning published
a lengthy explanation of his conduct, many who had sided
with him were convinced that Castlereagh had been much
wronged. The excuse that the protest upon which the cabinet
decided against Castlereagh did not mention the minister’s
name was regarded as a quibble. Men widely differing in character
and opinions—Walter Scott, Sidney Smith, Brougham and
Cobbett—took this view. Castlereagh loyally supported the
government in parliament, after Lord Wellesley’s appointment
to the Foreign Office. Though Wellington’s retreat after Talavera
had been included, with the disasters of the Corunna and Walcheren
campaigns, in the censures on Castlereagh, and though
ministers were often depressed and doubtful, Castlereagh never
lost faith in Wellington’s genius. Lord Wellesley’s resignation
in 1812, when the Whigs failed to come to terms with the regent,
led to Castlereagh’s return to office as foreign secretary (March
1812). The assassination of Percival soon threw upon him the
leadership of the House of Commons, and this double burden
he continued to bear during the rest of his life.
From March 1812 to July 1822 Castlereagh’s biography is, in truth, the history of England. Though never technically prime minister, during these years he wielded a power such as few ministers have exercised. Political opponents and personal ill-wishers admitted that he was the ablest leader who ever controlled the House of Commons for so long a period. As a diplomatist, nobody save Marlborough had the same influence over men or was given equal freedom by his colleagues at home. Foreigners saw in him the living presence of England in the camp of the Allies. At the War Office he had been hampered by the lack of technical knowledge, while nature had not granted him, as an organizer, the powers of a Carnot or Roon. But in diplomacy his peculiar combination of strength and charm, of patience and conciliatory adroitness, was acknowledged by all. At the Foreign Office he set himself at once to meet Napoleon’s designs in northern Europe, where Russia was preparing for her life-and-death struggle. Lord Wellesley paid a high tribute to Castlereagh’s conduct in this situation, and Wellington declared that he had then “rendered to the world the most important service that ever fell to the lot of any individual to perform.” Castlereagh wisely rejected Napoleon’s insincere overtures for peace. After the Moscow débâcle Napoleon’s fate was affected not only by Wellington’s progress in Spain, but by the attitude of the northern powers and by the action of Turkey, due to Castlereagh’s opportune disclosure to the Porte of the scheme of partition at Tilsit. At home, the repeal of the Orders in Council was carried, the damage to British trade plainly outweighing the injury inflicted on France by the restrictive system. The British subsidies to the Allies were largely increased as the operations of 1813 developed, but all Castlereagh’s skill was needed to keep the Coalition together. The Allied powers were willing, even after Leipzig, to treat with France on the basis of restoring her “natural frontiers”—the Rhine, the Alps and the Pyrenees; but Castlereagh protested. He would not allow the enemy to take ground for another tiger-spring. Before the Conference of Châtillon, where Napoleon sent Caulaincourt to negotiate for peace—with the message scribbled on the margin of his instructions, “Ne signez rien”—Aberdeen wrote to hasten Castlereagh’s coming: “Everything which has been so long smothered is now bursting forth”; and again, “Your presence has done much and would, I have no doubt, continue to sustain them (the Allies) in misfortune.” The Liverpool cabinet then and later were as urgent in pressing him to return to lead the House of Commons. He had lost his seat for Down in 1805, and afterwards sat for British boroughs; but in 1812 he was re-elected by his old constituents; and again in 1818 and 1820, sitting, after he became marquess of Londonderry in 1821, for Orford. Early in 1814 his colleagues reluctantly consented to his visit to the allied head-quarters. The Great Alliance showed signs of weakness and division. Austria was holding back; Prussia had almost broken away; above all, the ambiguous conduct of Alexander bred alarm and doubt. This situation became increasingly serious while Napoleon was giving daily proofs that his military genius, confronting a hesitant and divided enemy, was at its best. Castlereagh strove to keep the Allies together, to give no excuse for those separate arrangements upon which Napoleon was reckoning, to assert no selfish policy for England, to be tied by no theoretical consistency. At the Châtillon conferences England was represented by others, but Castlereagh was present with supreme authority over all, and it was he who determined the result. He declined to commit his country either to a blank refusal to negotiate with Napoleon or to the advocacy of a Bourbon restoration. He was ready to give up almost the whole of England’s conquests, but he insisted on the return of France within her ancient limits as the basis of a settlement. Caulaincourt’s advice was to take advantage of these overtures; but his master was not to be advised. The counter-projects that he urged Caulaincourt to submit to were advanced after his victory at Montereau, when he boasted that he was nearer to Munich than the Allies were to Paris. Even before the Châtillon conference was dissolved (March 18th), Castlereagh saw that Caulaincourt’s efforts would never bend Napoleon’s will. The Allies adopted his view and signed the treaty of Chaumont (March 1st), “my treaty,” as Castlereagh called it, with an unusual touch of personal pride; adding “Upon the face of the treaty this year our engagement is equivalent to theirs united.” The power of England when she threw her purse into the scale had been just exhibited at Bar-sur-Aube, when at a council of all the representatives of the powers the retreat of the allied armies was discussed. Bernadotte, playing a waiting game in Holland, was unwilling to reinforce Blücher, then in a dangerous position, by the Russian and Prussian divisions of Winzingerode and Bülow, temporarily placed under his orders. Having asked for and received the assurance that the military leaders were agreed in holding the transfer necessary, Castlereagh declared that he took upon himself the responsibility of bringing the Swedish prince to reason. The withholding of the British subsidies was a vital
