esteem of the
House of Commons. An entry in Greville's journal for February 1834 shows
Peel's unique power. 'No matter how unruly the House, how impatient or
fatigued, the moment he rises, all is silence, and he is sure of being
heard with profound attention and respect.' Lady Lyttelton,[9] who met
him later at Windsor, shows us another aspect. His readiness and
presence of mind come out in the most trivial matters. When Queen
Victoria suddenly, one evening, issued her command that all who could
dance were to dance, the more elderly guests were much embarrassed. Such
an order was not to Peel's taste. 'He was, in fact, to a close observer,
evidently both shy and cross'; but he was 'much the best figure of all,
so mincing with his legs and feet, his countenance full of the funniest
attempt to look unconcerned and "matter of course".' Another time when
games were improvised in the royal circle, Lady Lyttelton was 'much
struck with the quickness and watchful cautious characteristic sagacity
which Sir Robert showed in learning and playing a new round game'. And
to the ladies-in-waiting he commended himself by his quiet courtesy.
'Sir Robert Peel', we read, 'was in his most conversable mood and so
very agreeable. I never enjoyed an evening more.'

[Note 9: _Correspondence of Sarah, Lady Lyttelton_, by Maud Wyndham
(Murray, 1912).]

Perhaps the best description to show how personally he impressed his
contemporaries at this time is given by Lord Dalling and Bulwer in his
memoir. Sir Robert Peel, he tells us, was 'tall and powerfully built,
his body somewhat bulky for his limbs, his head small and well-formed,
his features regular. His countenance was not what would be generally
called expressive, but it was capable of taking the expression he wished
to give it, humour, sarcasm, persuasion, and command, being its
alternate characteristics. The character of the man was seen more... in
the whole person than in the face. He did not stoop, but he bent rather
forwards; his mode of walking was peculiar, and rather like that of a
cat, but of a cat that was well acquainted with the ground it was moving
over; the step showed no doubt or apprehension, it could hardly be
called stealthy, but it glided on firmly and cautiously, without haste,
or swagger, or unevenness.... The oftener you heard him speak, the more
his speaking gained upon you.... He never seemed occupied with himself.
His effort was evidently directed to convince you, not