Commons. No one knows it but myself; but it is certain.'

We have seen that at an early period of his career, Mr. Peel withdrew from
official life. His course had been one of unbroken prosperity; the hero of
the University had become the favourite of the House of Commons. His
retreat, therefore, was not prompted by chagrin. Nor need it have been
suggested by a calculating ambition, for the ordinary course of events was
fast bearing to him all to which man could aspire. One might rather
suppose, that he had already gained sufficient experience, perhaps in his
Irish Secretaryship, to make him pause in that career of superficial
success which education and custom had hitherto chalked out for him,
rather than the creative energies of his own mind. A thoughtful intellect
may have already detected elements in our social system which required a
finer observation, and a more unbroken study, than the gyves and trammels
of office would permit. He may have discovered that the representation of
the University, looked upon in those days as the blue ribbon of the House
of Commons, was a sufficient fetter without unnecessarily adding to its
restraint. He may have wished to reserve himself for a happier occasion,
and a more progressive period. He may have felt the strong necessity of
arresting himself in his rapid career of felicitous routine, to survey his
position in calmness, and to comprehend the stirring age that was
approaching.

For that, he could not but be conscious that the education which he had
consummated, however ornate and refined, was not sufficient. That age of
economical statesmanship which Lord Shelburne had predicted in 1787, when
he demolished, in the House of Lords, Bishop Watson and the Balance of
Trade, which Mr. Pitt had comprehended; and for which he was preparing the
nation when the French Revolution diverted the public mind into a stronger
and more turbulent current, was again impending, while the intervening