little for causes. He watches events rather than seeks to produce them. It
is a characteristic of the military mind. Rapid combinations, the result
of quick, vigilant, and comprehensive glance, are generally triumphant in
the field: but in civil affairs, where results are not immediate; in
diplomacy and in the management of deliberative assemblies, where there is
much intervening time and many counteracting causes, this velocity of
decision, this fitful and precipitate action, are often productive of
considerable embarrassment, and sometimes of terrible discomfiture. It is
remarkable that men celebrated for military prudence are often found to be
headstrong statesmen. In civil life a great general is frequently and
strangely the creature of impulse; influenced in his political movements
by the last snatch of information; and often the creature of the last
aide-de-camp who has his ear.

We shall endeavour to trace in another chapter the reasons which on this
as on previous and subsequent occasions, induced Sir Robert Peel to stand
aloof, if possible, from official life, and made him reluctant to re-enter
the service of his Sovereign. In the present instance, even temporary
success could only have been secured by the utmost decision, promptness,
and energy. These were all wanting: some were afraid to follow the bold
example of their leader; many were disinclined. In eight-and-forty hours
it was known there was a 'hitch.'

The Reform party, who had been rather stupefied than appalled by the
accepted mission of the Duke of Wellington, collected their scattered
senses, and rallied their forces. The agitators harangued, the mobs
hooted. The City of London, as if the King had again tried to seize the
five members, appointed a permanent committee of the Common Council to
watch the fortunes of the 'great national measure,' and to report daily.
Brookes', which was the only place that at first was really frightened and