od, shook off
the dust of Westminster, and, in Lord John's words, 'skulked in clubs
and country houses.' Sindbad, to borrow Albany Fonblanque's vigorous
simile, was getting rid of the old man of the sea, not permanently,
alas! but at least for the occasion. During the progress of these
negotiations, the nation, now confident of victory, stood not merely at
attention but on the alert. 'I say,' exclaimed Attwood at
Birmingham--and the phrase expressed the situation--'the people of
England stand at this moment like greyhounds on the slip!' Triumph was
only a matter of time. 'Pray beg of Lord Grey to keep well,' wrote
Sydney Smith to the Countess; 'I have no doubt of a favourable issue. I
see an open sea beyond the icebergs.' At length the open sea was
reached, and on June 7 the Reform Bill received the Royal Assent and
became the law of the land, and with it the era of government by public
opinion began. The mode by which the country at last obtained this great
measure of redress did not commend itself to Lord John's judgment. He
did not disguise his opinion that the creation of many new Peers
favourable to Reform would have been a more dignified proceeding than
the request from Windsor to noble lords to dissemble and cloak their
disappointment. 'Whether twelve or one hundred be the number requisite
to enable the Peers to give their votes in conformity with public
opinion,' were his words, 'it seems to me that the House of Lords,
sympathising with the people at large, and acting in concurrence with
the enlightened state of the prevailing wish, represents far better the
dignity of the House, and its share in legislation, than a majority got
together by the long supremacy of one party in the State, eager to show
its ill-will by rejecting bills of small importance, but afraid to
appear, and skulking in clubs and country houses, in face of a measure
which has attracted the ardent sympathy of public opinion.'

[Sidenote: BOWING BEFORE THE STORM]

'God may and, I hope, will forgive you for this bill,' was Lord
Sidmouth's plaintive lament to Earl Grey, 'but I do not think I ever
can!' There lives no record of reply. The last protest of the Duke of
Wellington, delivered just before the measure became law, was
characteristic in many respects, and not least in its blunt honesty.
'Reform, my lords, has triumphed, the barriers of the Constitution are
broken down, the waters of destruction have burst the gates of the
temple, and th