O’Connell was not admitted to Parliament; but his case precipitated an intense turmoil, which settled the question forever; for then the great general who had defeated Napoleon, and was the idol of the nation, seeing the difficulties of coercion as no other statesman did, and influenced by Sir Robert Peel (for whom he had unbounded respect), made one of his masterly retreats, by which he averted revolution and bloodshed.  Wellington hated the Catholics, and was a most loyal member of the Church of England; moreover, he was a Tory and an ultra-conservative.  But at last even his eyes were opened, not to the injustices and wrongs which ground Ireland to the dust, but to the necessity of conciliation.  Like Peel, he could face facts; and when his path was clear he would walk therein, whatever kings or ministers or peers or people might think or say.  He resolved to emancipate the Catholics, as Sir Robert Peel afterward repealed the Corn Laws, against all his antecedents and affiliations and sympathies, and more than all against the declared wishes and resolutions of the monarch whom he nominally served, yet whom he controlled by his iron will.  Sir Robert Peel, as obstinate a Tory as his chief, had been for some time convinced of the necessity of conciliation, and at once resigned his seat as the representative of Oxford University, which he felt he could no longer honorably hold.  In March, 1829, he brought forward his bill for the removal of Catholic disabilities, which was read the third time, and passed the Commons by a majority of 178.  In the House of Peers, it was carried by a majority of 104,—­so great was the influence of Wellington and Peel, so impressed at last were both Houses of the necessity for the measure.

The difficulty now was to obtain the signature of the king, although he had promised it as the probable alternative of revolution,—­a great State necessity, which his ministers had made him at last perceive, but to which he reluctantly yielded.  He was somewhat in the position of Pope Clement XIV. when obliged, against his will and against the interests of the Catholic Church, to sign the bull for the revocation of the charter of the Jesuits. Compulsus feci! compulsus feci! he exclaimed, with mental agony.  George IV. could have said the same.  He procrastinated; he lay all day in bed to avoid seeing his ministers; he talked of his feelings; he threatened to abdicate, and go to Hanover; he would not violate his conscience; he would be faithful to the traditions of his house and the memory of his father,—­and so on, until the patience of Wellington and Peel was exhausted, and they told him he must sign the bill at once, or they would immediately resign.  “The king could no longer wriggle off the hook,” and surrendered.  O’Connell was instantly re-elected, and took his seat in Parliament,—­a position which he occupied for the rest of his life.  George IV. was the last of the monarchs of England who attempted to rule by personal government.  Henceforward the monarch’s duty was simply to register the decrees of Parliament.