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Deposited by the
Linonian and Brothers Library
1908

A HISTORY

OF

OUR OWN TIMES

SECOND VOLUME

LONDON : PRINTED BY
SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARB
AND PARLIAMENT STREET

A HISTORY OF

OUR OWN TIMES
FROM THE ACCESSION OF QUEEN VICTORIA
TO THE GENERAL ELECTION OF 1S§0

BY

JUSTIN MCCARTHY, M.P.

IN FOUR VOLUMES— VOL. II.

CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY
1880
\,T/ie ¦rig/tt of translation is resmied]

B^'^3,&

CONTENTS

THE SECOND VOLUME.

CHAPTER
XVIII. Chartism and Young Ireland

XIX. Don Pacifico 
XX. The Ecclesiatical Titles Bill
XXI. The Exhibition in Hyde Paek
XXII. Palmerston 
XXIII. Birth of the Empire ; Death of ' the Duke
XXIV. Me. Gladstone 
XXV. The Eastern Question ....
XXVI. Wheee was Lord Palmeeston? .
XXVII. The Invasion of the Ceimea .
XXVIII. The Close of the Wae

1
41 74
102
121164
201
216 259
294324

XXIX. The Liteeatuee of the Reign. Piest Sue-vey 353

A HISTORY OF
OUR OWN TIMES
CPIAPTER XVIII.
CHARTISM AND YOUNG IRELAND.
The year 1848 was an era in the modern history of
Europe. It was the year of unfulfilled revolutions.
The faU of the dynasty of Louis PhUippe may be said
to have set the revolutionary tide flowing. The event
in France had long been anticipated by keen-eyed
observers. There are many predictions, delivered and
recorded before the revolution was yet near, which
show that it ought not to have taken the world by sur
prise. The reign of the Bourgeois King was unsuited
in its good and in its bad qualities alike to the genius
and the temper of the French people. The people of
France have defects enough which friends and ene
mies are ready to point out to them ; but it can hardly
be denied that they like at least the appearance
of a certain splendour and magnanimity in their
systems of government. This is indeed one of their
weaknesses. It lays them open to the allurements of
VOL. II. B

2 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. ch. ivin.
any brilliant adventurer, like the First Napoleon or the
Third, who can promise them, national greatness and
glory at the expense perhaps of domestic liberty.
But it makes them peculiarly intolerant of anything
mean and sordid in a system or a ruler. There
are peoples no doubt who could be persuaded, and
wisely persuaded, to put up with a good deal of the
ignoble and the shabby in their foreign policy for
the sake of domestic comfort and tranquUhty. But
the French people are always impatient of any
thing like meanness in their rulers, and the govern
ment of Louis Philippe was especiaUy mean. Its
foreign policy was treacherous; its diplomatists were
commissioned to act as tricksters ; the word of a
French minister at a foreign court began to be re
garded as on a level of credibility with a dicer's oath.
The home policy of the King was narrow-minded and
¦ repressive enough ; but a man who played upon the
national weakness more wisely might have persuaded
his people to be content with defects at home for the
sake oi prestige abroad. From the hour when it be
came apparent in France that the nation was not
respected abroad, the fall of the dynasty was only a
matter of time and change. The terrible story of the de
Praslin family helped to brmg about the catastrophe ;
the alternate weakness and obstinacy of the Govern
ment forced it on ; and the King's own lack of decision
made it impossible that when the trial had come it
could end in any way but one.
Louis Philippe fled to England, and his flight
was the signal for long pent-up fires to break out all

1848. REVOLUTION. 3
over Europe. Revolution soon was aflame over nearly
all the courts and capitals of the Continent. Revolu
tion is like an epidemic ; it finds out the weak places
in systems. The two European countries which being
tried by it stood it best, were England and Belgium.
In the latter country the King made fi^ank appeal to
his people, and told them that if they wished to be rid
of him he was quite willing to go. Language Nof this
kind is new in the mouths of sovereigns ; and the
Belgians are a people well able to appreciate it. They
declared for their King, and the shock of the revolu
tion passed harmlessly away. In England and Ire
land the effect of the events in France was instantly
made manifest. The Chartist agitation at once came
to a head. Some of the Chartist leaders called out
for the dismissal of the Ministry, the dissolution of
the Parliament, the Charter and ' no surrender.' A
national convention of Chartists began its sittings in-
London to arrange for a monster demonstration on
April lOe^ Some of the speakers openly declared that
the people were now quite ready to fight for their
Charter. Others, more cautious, advised that no step
should be taken against the law untU at least it was
quite certain that the people were stronger than the
upholders of the existing laws. Nearly aU the lead
ing Chartists spoke of the revolution in France as an
example offered in good time to the English people;
and it is somewhat curious to observe how it was
assumed in the most evident good faith that what we
may caU the wage-receiving portion of the population
of these islands constitutes exclusively the EngUsh
s 2

4 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. en. XTiir.
people. "What the educated, the wealthy, the owners
of land, the proprietors of factories, the ministers of
the different denominations, the authors of books, the
painters of pictures, the bench, the bar, the army, the
navy, the medical profession — what all these or any
of them might think with regard to any proposed
constitutional changes was accounted a matter in no
wise affecting the resolve of the English ' people.'
The moderate men among the Chartists themselves
were soon unable to secure a hearing; and the word of
order went round among the body, that ' the English
people ' must have the Charter or a EepubUc. "What
had been done in France enthusiasts fancied might
well be done in England.
It was determined to present a monster petition
to the House of Commons demanding the Charter,
tmd in fact ofi"ering a last chance to Parhament to
yield quietly to the demand. The petition was to be
presented by a deputation who were to be conducted
by a vast procession up to the doors of the House.
The procession was to be formed on Kennington Com-
m.on, the space then unenclosed which is now Ken
nington Park, on the south side of London. There
the Chartists were to be addressed by their stUl
trusted leader, Feargus O'Connor, and they were to
inarch in military order to present their petition.
The object undoubtedly was to make such a parade
of physical force as should overawe the Legislature
and the Government, and demonstrate the impossi-
bUity of refusmg a demand backed by such a reserve
of power. The idea was taken from O'ConneU's

1848. THE KENNINGTON COMMON MEiSTINtf. 5
poUcy in the monster meetings ; but there were many
of the Chartists who hoped for something more than
a mere demonstration of physical foi^ce, and who
would have been heartily glad if somfe untimely or
unreasonable interference on the part of the authori
ties had led to a collision. A strong faith stUl sur
vived at that day in what was grandiosely called the
might of earnest numbers. Ardent young Chartists
who belonged to the time of Ufe when anything seems
possible to the brave and faithful, and when facts
and examples count for nothing unless they favour
one's own views, fuUy believed that it needed but the
firing of the first shot, ' the sparkle of the first sword
drawn,' to give success to the arms, though but the
bare arms, of the people, and to inaugurate the reign
of Liberty. Therefore, however differently and harm
lessly events may have turned out, we may be cer
tain that there went to the rendezvous at Kennington
Common on that AprU 10, many hundreds of igno
rant and excitable young men who desired nothing sa
much as a colUsion with the police and the military,
and the reign of Uberty to foUow. The proposed
procession was declared iUegal, and all peaceful and
loyal subjects were warned not to take any part in it.
But this was exactly what the more ardent among
the Chartists expected and desired to see. They were
rejoiced that the Government had proclaimed the pro
cession unlawful. Was not that the proper occasion
for resolute patriots to show that they represented a
cause above despotic law? "Was not that the very
opportunity offered to them to prove that the people

6 A HISTORY OF OUR 0\m TIMES. ch. xvni.
were more mighty than their rulers, and that the
rulers must obey or abdicate? Was not the whole
sequence of proceedings thus far exactly after the
pattern of the French Revolution ? The people resolve
that they will have a certain demonstration in a cer
tain way; the oligarchical Government declare that
they shaU not do so ; the people persevere, and of
course the next thing must be that the Government
faUs, exactly as in Paris. When poor Dick Swiveller
in Dickens's story is recovering from his fever he
looks forth of his miserable bed and makes up his
mind that he is under the influence of some such
magic spell as he has become famiUar with in the
' Arabian Nights,' His poverty-stricken little nurse
slaps her thin hands with joy to see him aUve ; and
Dick makes up his mind that the clapping of the
hands is the sign understood of aU who read Eastern
romance, and that next must appear at the princess's
summons the row of slaves with jars of jewels on
their heads. Poor Dick reasoning fi*om his expe
riences in the ' Arabian Nights,' was not one whit more
astray than enthusiastic Chartists reasoning for the
sequence of EngUsh politics from the evidence of
what had happened in France. The slaves with the
jars of jewels on their heads were just as likely to
foUow the clap of the poor girl's hands as the events
that had followed a popular demonstration in Paris
to foUow a popular demonstration in London. .To
begin with, the Chartists did not represent any such
power in London as the Liberal deputies of the French
Chamber did in Paris. In the next place, London

1848. SCHISM AMONG TIIE CHARTISTS. 7
does not govern England, and in our time at least
never did. In the third place, the English Govern
ment knew perfectly well that they were strong in
the general support of the nation, and were not likely
to yield for a single moment to the hesitation which
sealed the fate of the French monarchy.
The Chartists fell to disputing among themselves
very much as O'ConneU's Repealers had done. Some
were for disobeying the orders of the authorities and
having the procession, and provoking rather than
avoiding a coUision. At a meeting of the Chartist
Convention held the night before the demonstration,
'the eve of Liberty,' as some of the orators eloquently
termed it, a considerable number were for going armed
to Kennington Common. Feargus O'Connor had,
however, sense enough stiU left to throw the weight of
his influence against such an insane proceedmg, and
to insist that the demonstration must show itself to
be, as it was from the first proclaimed to be, a strictly
pacific proceeding. This was the parting of the ways
in the Chartist, as it had been in the Repeal agitation.
The more ardent spirits at once withdrew from the
organisation. Those who might even at the very
last have done mischief if they had remained part of
the movement, withdrew from it ; and Chartism was
left to be represented by an open air meeting and
a petition to Parhament, like aU the other demon
strations that the metropolis had seen to pass, hardly
heeded, across the field of politics. But the public
at large was not aware that the fangs of Chartism
had been drawn before it was let loose to play on

8 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. ch. inii.
Kennington Common that memorable tenth of AprU..
London awoke in great alarm that day. The
Chartists in their most sanguine moments never
ascribed to themselves half the strength that honest
alarmists of the bourgeois class were ready that morn
ing to ascribe to them. The wildest rumours were
spread abroad in many parts of the metropoUs. Long
before the Chartists had got together on Kennington
Common at all, various remote quarters of London
were fiUed with horrifying reports of encounters be
tween the insurgents and the police or the mUitary,
in which the Chartists invariably had the better,
and as a result of which they were marching in full
force to the particular district where the momentary
panic prevaUed. London is worse off than most
cities in such a time of alarm. It is too large for
true accounts of things rapidly to diffuse themselves.
In AprU, 1848, the street telegraph was not in use
for carrying news through cities, and the rapidly suc
ceeding editions of the cheap papers were as yet un
known. In various quarters of London, therefore,
the citizen was left through the greater part of the
day to aU the agonies of doubt and uncertainty.
There was no lack, however, of public precautions
against an outbreak of armed Chartism. The Duke
of WeUington took charge of aU the arrangements for
guarding the pubUc buildings and defending the me
tropolis generally. He acted with extreme caution,
and told several influential persons that the troops
T^ere in readiness everywhere, but that they would
not be seen unless an occasion actuaUy rose for call-

1848. WELLINGTON'S PREPARATIONS. 9
ing on their services. The coolness and presence of
mind of the stern old soldier are well Ulustrated in
the fact that to several persons of influence and au
thority who came to him with suggestions for the
defence of this place or that, his almost invariable
answer was ' done already,' or ' done two hours ago,'
or something of the kind. A vast number of Lon
doners enrolled themselves as special constables for
the maintenance of law and order. Nearly two hun
dred thousand persons, it is said, were sworn in
for this purpose ; and it wUl always be told as an
odd incident of that famous scare, that the Prince
Louis Napoleon, then living in London, was one of
those who volunteered to bear arms in the preserva
tion of order. Not a long time was to pass away be
fore the most lawless outrage on the order and life of
a peaceful city was to be perpetrated by the special
command of the man who was so ready to lend the
saving aid of his constable's staff to protect English
society against some poor hundreds or thousands of
English working men.
The crisis, however, luckUy proved not to stand
in need of such saviours of society. The Chartist
demonstration was a wretched faUure. The separa
tion of the Chartists who wanted force from those
who wanted orderly proceedings, reduced the project
to nothing. The meeting on Kennington Common,
so far from being a gathering of half a mUlion of
men, was not a larger concourse than a temperance
demonstration had often drawn together on the same
spot. Some twenty or twenty-five thousand persons

10 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xmi.
were on Kennington Common, of whom at least half
were said to be mere lookers-on, come to see what
was to happen, and caring nothing whatever about
the People's Charter. The procession was not formed,
O'Connor himself strongly insisting on obedience to
the orders of the authorities. There were speeches of
the usual kind by O'Connor and others ; and the op
portunity was made avaUable by some of the more
extreme and consequently disappointed Chartists to
express in very vehement language their not unrea
sonable conviction that the leaders of the convention
were humbugs. The whole affair in truth was an
absurd anachronism. The lovers of law and order
could have desired nothing better than that it should
thus come forth in the light of day and show itself.
The clap of the hand was given, but the slaves with
the jars of jewels did not appear. It is not that the
demands of the Chartists were anachronisms or ab
surdities. We have already shown that many of them
were just and reasonable, and that aU came within
the fair scope of poUtical argument. The anachro
nism was in the idea that the display of physical force
could any longer be needed or be aUowed to settle a
political controversy in England. The absurdity was
in the notion that the wage-receiving classes, and they
alone, are ' the people of England.'
The great Chartist petition itself, which was to
have made so profound an impression on the House
of Commons, proved as utter a faUure as the demon
stration on Kennington Common. Mr. O'Connor in
presenting this portentous document boasted that it

1848. TIIE PETITION AND ITS SIGNATURES. 11
would be found to have five mUlion seven hundred
thousand signatures in round numbers. The calcu
lation was made in very round numbers indeed. The
Committee on Public Petitions were requested to
make a minute examination of the document, and to
report to the House of Commons. The committee
called in the service of a Uttle army of law-stationers'
clerks, and went to work to analyse the signatures.
They found, to begin with, that the whole number of
signatures, genuine or otherwise, feU short of two
millions. But that was not all. The committee
found in many cases that whole sheets of the petition
were signed by the one hand, and that eight per cent.
of the signatures were those of women. It did not
need much investigation to prove that a large propor
tion of the signatures were not genuine. The name
of the Queen, of Prince Albert, of the Duke of Wel
lington, Sir Robert Peel, Lord John RusseU, Colonel
Sibthorp, and various other public personages, ap
peared again and again on the Chartist roll. Some
of these eminent persons would appear to have carried
their zeal for the People's Charter so far as to keep
signing their names untiringly all over the petition.
A large number of yet stranger alUes would seem
to have been drawn to the cause of the Charter.
' Cheeks the Marine ' was a personage very famUiar
at that time to the readers of Captain Marryat's sea
stories ; and the name of that mythical hero appeared
with bewUdering iteration in the petition. So did
* Davy Jones ' ; so did various persons describing them
selves as Pugnose, Flatnose, Wooden-legs, and by

12 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xviii.
other such epithets acknowledging curious personal
defects. We need not describe the laughter and scorn
which these revelations produced. There really was
not anything very marveUous in the discovery. The
petition was got up in great haste and with almost
utter carelessness. Its sheets used to be sent any
where, and left lying about anywhere, on a chance of
obtaining signatures. The temptation to schoolboyb
and practical jokers of aU kinds was irresistible.
Wherever there was a mischievous hand that could
get hold of a pen, there was some name of a royal
personage or some Cheeks the Marine at once added
to the muster-roll of the Chartists. As a matter of
fact, almost aU large popular petitions are found to
have some such buffooneries mixed up with their
serious business. The Committee on Petitions have
on several occasions had reason to draw attention to
the obviously fictitious nature of signatures appended
to such documents. The petitions in favour of
O'ConneU's movement used to lie at the doors of
chapels aU the Sunday long in Ireland, with pen and
ink ready for aU who approved to sign ; and it was
many a time the favourite amusement of schoolboys
to scrawl down the most grotesque names and non
sensical imitations of names. But the Chartist peti
tion had been so loudly boasted of, and the whole
Chartist movement had created such a scare, that the
deUght of the public generaUy at any discovery that
threw both into ridicule was overwhelming. It was
made certain that the number of genuine signatures
was ridiculously below the estimate formed by the

1848. INEXTINGUISHABLE LAUGHTER. 13
Chartist leaders ; and the agitation after terrifying
respectability for a long time suddenly showed itself
as. a thing only to be laughed at. The laughter was
stentorian and overwhelming. The very fact that
the petition contained so many absurdities was in it
self an evidence of the sincerity of those who pre
sented it. It was not likely that they would have
furnished their enemies with so easy and tempting a
way of turning them into ridicule, if they had known
or suspected that there was any lack of genuineness
in the signatures, or that they would have provided
so ready a means of decrying then' truthfulness as to
claim five milUons of names for a document which
they knew to have less than two mUlions. The Char
tist leaders in all their doings showed a want of ac
curate calculation, and of the frame of mind which
desires or appreciates such accuracy. The famous
petition was only one other example of their habitual
weakness. It did not bear testimony against their
good faith.
The effect, however, of this unlucky petition on
the English pubUc mind was decisive. From that
day Chartism never presented itself to the ordinary
middle-class EngUshman as anything but an object
of ridicule. The terror of the agitation was gone.
There were efforts made agaui and again during the
year by some of the more earnest and extreme of the
Chartist leaders to renew the strength of the agita
tion. The outbreak of the Young Ireland movement
found many sympathisers among the English Chart
ists, more especiaUy in its earlier stages ; and some

14 A HISTORY OFlKJR OWN TIMES. ch. xvm.
of the Chartists in London and other great English
cities endeavoured to Ught up the fire of their agita
tion again by the help of some brands caught up from
the pUe of disaffection which Mitchel and Meagher
were setting ablaze in Dublin. A monster gathering
of Chartists was announced for Whit-Monday, June
12, and again the metropolis was thrown into a mo
mentary alarm, very different in strength however
from that of the famous 10th of AprU. Again precau
tions were taken by the mUitary authorities against
the possible rising of an insurrectionary mob. No
thing came of this last gasp of Chartism. The Times
of the following day remarked that there was abso
lutely nothing to record, ' nothing except the blankest
expectation, the most miserable gaping, gossiping,
and grumbling of disappointed listeners; the standing
about, the roaming to and fro, the dispersing and the
sneaking home of some poor simpletons who had
wandered forth in the hope of some nuraculous crisis
in their affairs.' It is impossible not to pity those
who were thus deceived ; not to feel some regret
for the earnestness, the hope, the ignorant passionate
energy which were thrown away.
Nor can we feel only surprise and contempt for
those who imagined that the Charter and the rule of
what was called m their jargon 'the people' would
do something to regenerate their miserable lot. They
had at least seen that up to that time Parlia,ment had
done little for them. There had been a Parliament
of aristocrats and landlords, and it had for genera
tions troubled itself little about the class from whom

1848. THE ARGiraiENTS OF CHARTISM. 15
Chartism was recruited. The sceptre of legislative
power had passed into the hands of a Parliament made
up in great measure of the wealthy middle ranks, and
it had thus far shown no Uiclination to distress itself
over much about them. Almost every single measure
Parliament has passed to do any good for the wages-
receivmg classes and the poor generally has been
passed since the time when the Chartists began to be
a power. Our Corn Laws' repeal, our factory acts,
our sanitary legislation, our measures referrmg to the
homes of the poor — aU these have been the work of
later times than those which engendered the Chartist
movement. It is easy to imagine a Chartist replying
in the early days of the movement to some grave re
monstrances from wise legislators. He might say,
' You teU me I am mad to think the Charter can do
anything for me and my class. But can you tell me
what else ever has done, or tried to do, any good for
them? You. thmk I am a crazy person because I
believe that a popular Parliament could make any
thing of the task of government. I ask you what
have you and yoiir Uke made of it already? Things
are weU enough no doubt for you and your class, a
pitiful minority; but they could not be any worse for
us, and we might make them better so far as the great
majority are concerned. We may faUly crave a trial
for our experiment. No matter how wUd and absurd
it may seem, it could not turn out, for the majority,
any worse than your scheme has done.' It would
not have been very easy then to answer a speaker who
took this line of argument. In truth there was, as

16 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. ch. xvm..
we have already msisted, grievance enough to excuse
the Chartist agitation, and hope enough in the scheme
the Chartists proposed to warrant its fair discussion.
Such movements are never to be regarded by sensible
persons as the work merely of knaves and dupes.
Chartism bubbled and sputtered a Uttle yet in
some of the provincial towns and even in London.
There were Chartist riots in Ashton, Lancashire, and
an affray with the police and the killing, before the
affray, it is painful to have to say, of one policeman.
There were Chartists arrested in Manchester on the
charge of preparing insurrectionary movements. In
two or three public-houses in London some Chartist
juntas were arrested, and the police believed they had
got evidence of a projected rising to take in the whole
of the metropoUs. It is not impossible that some
wild and frantic schemes of the kind were talked of
and partly hatched by some of the disappointed fana
tics of the movement. Some of them were fiery and
ignorant enough for anything ; and throughout this
memorable year thrones and systems kept toppling
down all over Europe in a manner that might weU
have led feather-headed agitators to fancy that nothing
was stable, and that in England too the whistle of a
few conspirators might bring about a transformation
scene. AU this folly came to nothing but a few
arrests and a few not heavy sentences. Amongthose
tried in London on charges of sedition merely, was
Mr. Ernest Jones, who was sentenced to two years'
imprisonment. Mr. Jones has been already spoken of
as a man of position and of high culture ; a poet whose

1848. THE COLLAPSE OF THE MOVEMENT. 17
verses sometimes might almost claim for their author
the possession of genius. He was an orator whose
speeches then and after obtained the enthusiastic ad
miration of John Bright. He belonged rather to the
school of revolutionist which established itself as
Young Ireland than to the class of the poor Fussells
and Cuffeys and uneducated working men who made
up the foremost ranks of the aggressive Chartist move
ment in its later period. He might have had a briUiant
and a useful career. He outlived the Chartist era ; lived
to return to peaceful agitation, to hold public contro
versy with the eccentric and clever Professor Blackie, of
Edinburgh, on the relative advantages of republican
ism and monarchy, and to stand for a Parliamentary
borough at the general election of 1868; and then
his career was closed by death. The close was sadly
premature even then. He had plunged immaturely
into poUtics, and although a whole generation had
passed away since his debut, he was but a young man
comparatively when the last scene came.
Here comes not inappropriately to an end the
history of EngUsh Chartism. It died of pubUcity; of
exposure to the air ; of the Anti-Corn Law League ;
of the evident tendency of the time to settle all ques
tions by reason, argument, and majorities ; of growing
education ; of a strengthening sense of duty among
aU the more influential classes. When Sir John
CampbeU spoke its obituary years before, as we have
seen, he treated it as simply a monster kUled by the
j ust severity of the law. Ten years' experience taught
the English pubUc to be wiser than Sir John Camp-
VOL. II. c

18 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. ch. xvm.
beU. Chartism did not die of its own excesses ; it
became an anachronism ; no one wanted it any more.
All that was sound in its claims asserted itself and
was in tune conceded. But its active or aggressive
influence ceased with 1848. The history of the reign
of Queen Victoria has not any further to concern
itself about Chartism. Not since that year has there
been serious talk or thought of any agitation asserting
its claims by the use or even the display of armed
force in England.
The spirit of the time had meanwhUe made itself
felt in a different way in Ireland. For some months
before the beginning of the year the Young Ireland
party had been established as a rival association to
the Repealers who stUl beUeved in the poUcy of
O'ConneU. It was inevitable that O'ConneU's agita
tion should beget some such movement. The great
agitator had brought the temperament of the younger
men of his party up to a fever heat, and it was out
of the question that aU that heat should subside in
the veins of young collegians and schoolboys at the
precise moment when the leader found that he had
been going too far and gave the word for peace and
retreat. The influence of O'ConneU had been waning
for a time before his death. It was a personal in
fluence depending on his eloquence and his power,
and these of course had gone down with his physical
decay. The Nation newspaper, which was conducted
and written for by some rising young men of high
culture and remarkable talent, had long been writing
in a style of romantic and sentimental nationalism

1843. THE YOUNG IRELAND PARTY. 19
which could hardly give much satisfaction to or
derive much satisfaction from the somewhat cunning
and trickish agitation which O'Connell had set going.
The Nation and the clever youths who wrote for it
were all for nationaUsm of the Hellenic or French
type, and were disposed to laugh at constitutional
agitation and to chafe against the influence of the
priests. The famUie had created an immense amount
of unreasonable but certainly not unnatural indigna
tion against the Government, who were accused of
having paltered with the agony and danger of the
time, and having clung to the letter of the doctrines
of political economy when death was invading Ireland
in fuU force. The Young Ireland party had received
a new support by the adhesion of Mr. WUUam Smith
O'Brien to their ranlis. Mr. O'Brien was a man of
considerable influence in Ireland. He had large
property and high rank. He was connected with or
related to many aristocratic families. His brother
was Lord Inchiquin ; the title of the marquisate of
Thomond was in the famUy. He was undoubtedly
descended from the famous Irish hero and king Brian
Boru, and was almost inordinately proud of his
claims of long descent. He had the highest personal
character and the finest sense of honour ; but his
capacity for leadership of any movement was very slen
der. A poor speaker, with Uttle more than an ordi
nary country gentleman's share of inteUect, O'Brien
was a weU-meaning but weak and vain man, whose
head at last became almost turned by the homage
which his foUowers and the Irish people generally
c2

20 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xvm.
paid to him. He was in short a sort of Lafayette
rtianque ; under the happiest auspices he could never
have been more than a successful Lafayette. But his
adhesion to the cause of Young Ireland gave the;
movement a decided impulse. His rank, his legendary
descent, his undoubted chivalry of character and
purity of purpose lent a romantic interest to his
appearance as the recognised leader, or at least the
figure-head, of the Young Irelanders.
Smith O'Brien was a man of more mature years
than most of his companions in the movement. He
was some forty-three or four years of age when he
took the leadership of the movement. Thomas Fran
cis Meagher, the most brUliant orator of the party, a
man who under other conditions might have risen to
great distinction in public life, was then only about
two or three and twenty. Mitchel and Duffy, who
were regarded as elders among the Young Irelanders,
were perhaps each some thirty years of age. There
were many men more or less prominent in the move
ment who were stUl younger than Meagher. One of
these, who afterwards rose to some distinction in
America, and is long since dead, wrote a poem about
the time when the Young Ireland movement was
at its height in which he commemorated sadly his
attainment of his eighteenth year, and deplored that,
at an age when Chatterton was mighty and Keats
had glimpses into spirit-land — the age of eighteen to
wit — ^he, this young Irish patriot, had yet accom
plished nothing for his native country. Most of his
companions sympathised fuUy with him and thought

1648. THE LEADERS OF YOUNG IRELAND. 21
his impatience natural and reasonable. The Young
Ireland agitation was at first a sort of college
debating society movement, and it never became
reaUy national. It was composed for the most part
of young journalists, young scholars, amateur littera
teurs, poets en herbe, orators moulded on the finest
patterns of Athens and the French Revolution, and
aspiring youths of the Cherubino time of life, who
were ambitious of distinction as heroes in the eyes of
young ladies. Among the recognised leaders of the
party there was hardly one in want of money. Some
of them were young men of fortune, or at least the
sons of wealthy parents. Not many of the dangerous
revolutionary elements were to be found among these
clever, respectable, and precocious youths. The Young
Ireland movement was as absolutely unlike the Char
tist movement in England as any political agitation
could be unUke another. Unreal and unlucky as
the Chartist movement proved to be, its ranks were
recruited by genuine passion and genuine misery.
Before the death of O'ConneU the formal secession
of the Young Ireland party from the regular Re
pealers had taken place. It arose out of an attempt
of O'ConneU to force upon the whole body a declara
tion condenming the use of physical force — of the
sword, as it was grandiosely called — in any patriotic
movement whatever. It was in itself a sign of
O'ConneU's faUing powers and judgment that he
expected to get a body of men about the age of
Meagher to make a formal declaration against the
weapon of Leomdas and MUtiades and all the other

22 A HISTORY OP OUR OWN TDIES. on. xvm.
heroes dear to classically-instructed youth. Meagher
declaimed against the idea in a burst of poetic rheto
ric which made his foUowers believe that a new Grat^
tan of bolder style was coming up to recall the
manhood of Ireland that had been banished by the
agitation of O'Connell and the priests. ' I am not
one of those tame moralists,' the young orator ex
claimed, ' who say that liberty is not worth one drop
of blood  Against this miserable maxim the
noblest virtue that has saved and sanctified humanity
appears in judgment. From the blue waters of the
Bay of Salamis ; from the valley over which the sun
stood stUl and lit the Israelite to victory ; from the
cathedral in which the sword of Poland has been
sheathed in the shroud of Kosciusko ; from the con
vent of St. Isidore where the fiery hand that rent the
ensign of St. George upon the plains of Ulster has
mouldered Uito dust; from the sands of the desert
where the wild genius of the Algerine so long has
scared the eagle of the Pyrenees ; from the ducal
palace in this kingdom where the memory of the
gaUant and seditious Geraldine enliances more than
royal favour the splendour of his race; from the
soUtary grave within this mute city which a dying
bequest has left without an epitaph — oh ! from every
spot where heroism has had a sacrifice or a triumph a
voice breaks in upon the cringing crowd that cherishes
this maxim, crying, Away with it — away with it ! '
The reader will probably think that a generation
of young men might have enjoyed as much as they
could get of this sparkling declamation without much

1848. TIIE INFLUENCE OF REVOLUTION. 23
harm being done thereby to the cause of order. Only
a crowd of well-educated young Irishmen fresh from
college, and with the teachmg of their country's
history which the Nation was pouring out weekly
in prose and poetry, could possibly have understood
aU its historical aUusions. No harm, indeed, would
have come of this graceful and poetic movement were
it not for events which the Young Ireland party had
no share in bringing about.
The Continental revolutions of the year 1848
suddenly converted the movement from a literary
and poetical organisation into a rebellious conspiracy.
The fever of that wild epoch spread itself at once
over Ireland. When crowns were going down every
where, what wonder if Hellenic Young Irelandism
beUeved that the moment had come when the crown
of the Saxon invader too was destined to faU ? The
French Revolution and the flight of Louis PhUippe
set Ireland in a rapture of hope and rebellious joy.
Lamartine became the hero of the hour. A copy of
his showy, superficial ' Girondists ' was m the hand
of every true Young Irelander, Meagher was at
once declared to be the Yergniaud of the Irish re
volution. Smith O'Brien was caUed upon to become
its Lafayette. A deputation of Young Irelanders,
with O'Brien and Mekgher at their head, waited upon
Lamartine, and were received by him with a cool
good sense which made Englishmen greatly respect
his judgment and prudence, but which much discon
certed the hopes of the Young Irelanders. Many of
these latter appear to have taken in their most literal

24 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TBIES. ch. xvm.
sense some words of Lamartine's about the sympathy
of the new French Republic with the struggles of
oppressed nationalities, and to have fancied that the
Republic would seriously consider the propriety of
going to war with England at the request of a few
young men from Ireland, headed by a country gentle
man and member of Parliament. In the meantime a
fresh and a stronger influence than that of O'Brien or
Meagher had arisen in Young Irelandism, Young
Ireland itself now split into two sections, one for
immediate action, the other for caution and delay.
The party of action acknowledged the leadership of
John Mitchel, The organ of this section was the
newspaper started by Mitchel in opposition to the
Nation, which had grown too slow for him. The
new journal was called the United Irishman, and in
a short time it had completely distanced the Nation
in popularity and in circulation. The deliberate
policy of the United Irishman was to force the hand
first of the Government and then of the Irish people.
Mitchel had made up his mind so to rouse the passion
of the people as to compel the Government to take
steps for the prevention of rebellion by the arrest of
some of the leaders. Then Mitchel calculated upon
the populace rising to defend or rescue their heroes —
and then the game would be afoot; Ireland would
be entered in rebellion; and the rest would be for
fate to decide.
This looks now a very wUd and hopeless scheme.
So of course it proved itself to be. But it did not
appear so hopeless at the time, even to cool heads.

1848. JOHN MITCHEL. 25
At least it may be called the only scheme which had
the slightest chance of success ; we do not say of
success in establishing the independence of Ireland,
which Mitchel sought for, but in setting a genuine
rebellion afoot. Mitchel was the one formidable man
among the rebels of '48. He was the one man who
distinctly knew what he wanted, and was prepared
to run any risk to get it. He was cast in the very
mould of the genuine revolutionist, and under dif
ferent circumstances might have played a formidable
part. He came from the northern part of the island,
and was a Protestant Dissenter. It is a fact worthy
of note that aU the reaUy formidable rebels Ireland
has produced in modern times, from Wolfe Tone to
Mitchel, have been Protestants. Mitchel was a man
of great Uterary talent ; indeed a man of something
like genius. He wrote a clear, bold, incisive prose,
keen in its scorn and satire, going directly to the
heart of its purpose. As mere prose some of it is
worth reading even to-day for its cutting force and
pitiless irony. Mitchel issued in his paper week after
week a challenge to the Government to prosecute
him. He poured out the most fiery sedition, and
used every incentive that words could supply to rouse
a hot-headed people to arms or an impatient Govern
ment to some act of severe repression. Mitchel was
quite ready to make a sacrifice of himself if it were
necessary. It is possible enough that he had per
suaded himself into the belief that a rising in Ireland
against the Government might be successful. But
there is good reason to think that he would have

26 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. x\iii.
been quite satisfied if he could have stUred up by any
process a genuine and sanguinary insurrection, which
would have read well in the papers and redeemed the
Irish Nationalists from what he considered the dis
grace of never having shown that they knew how to
die for their cause. He kept on urging the people to
prepare for warlike effort, and every week's United
Irishman contained long descriptions of how to make
pikes and how to use them ; how to cast bullets, how
to make the streets as dangerous for the hoofs of
cavalry horses as Bruce made the field of Bannock-
burn. Some of the recipes, if we may call them so,
were of a peculiarly ferocious kind. The use of vitriol
was recommended among other destructive agencies.
A feeUng of detestation was not unnaturally aroused
against Mitchel, even in the minds of many who
sympathised with his general opinions ; and those
whom we may caU the Girondists of the party some
what shrank Jfrom him, and would gladly have been
rid of him. It is true that the most ferocious of these
vitriolic articles were not written by him ; nor did
he know of the famous recommendation about the
throwing of vitriol until it appeared in print. He
was, however, justly and properly as weU as techni-
caUy responsible for aU that appeared in a paper
started with such a purpose as that of the United
Irishman, and it is not even certain that he would
have disapproved of the vitriol-throwing recommen
dation if he had known of it in time. He never dis
avowed it nor took any pains to show that it was not
his own. The fact that he was not its author is

1848. THE TREASON-FELONY ACT. 27
therefore only mentioned here as a matter more or
l6ss interesting, and not at all as any excuse for
Mitchel' s general style of newspaper war-making.
He was a fanatic, clever and fearless ; he would
neither have asked quarter nor given it ; and un
doubtedly if Ireland had had many men of his despe
rate resolve she would have been plunged into a
bloody, an obstinate, and a disastrous contest against
the strength of the British Government.
In the meantime that Government had to do
something. The Lord Lieutenant could not go on
for ever allowing a newspaper to scream out appeals
to rebelUon, and to publish every week minute descrip
tions of the easiest and quickest way of kUling off
English soldiers. The existing laws were not strong
enough to deal with Mitchel and to suppress his
paper. It would have been of little account to pro
ceed against him under the ordinary laws which con
demned seditious speaking or writing. Prosecutions
were in fact set on foot against O'Brien, Meagher,
and Mitchel himself for ordinary offences of that kind;
but the accused men got bail and went on meantime
speaking and writing as before, and when the cases
came to be tried by a jury the Government faUed
to obtain a conviction. The Government therefore-
brought in a bill for the better security of the Crown-
and Government, making aU written incitement to'
insurrection or resistance to the law, felony punish
able with transportation. This measure was passed
rapidly through all its stages. It enabled the Go
vernment to suppress newspapers like the United

28 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. ch. xvm.
Irishman, and to keep m prison without baU, whUe
awaitmg trial, anyone charged with an offence under
the new Act. Mitchel soon gave the authorities an op
portunity of testing the efiicacy of the Act in his person.
He repeated his incitements to insurrection, was ar
rested and thrown into prison. The climax of the
excitement in Ireland was reached when Mitchel' s
trial came on. There can be little doubt that he was
filled with a strong hope that his followers would
attempt to rescue him. He -wrote from his ceU that
he could hear around the walls of his prison every
night the tramp of hundreds of sympathisers, ' felons
in heart and soul.' The Government for their part
were in full expectation that some sort of rising would
take place. For the time. Smith O'Brien, Meagher, and
aU the other Young Irelanders were thrown into the
shade, and the eyes of the whole country were turned
upon Mitchel' s cell. Had there been another Mitchel
out of doors, as fearless and reckless as the Mitchel in
the prison, a sanguinary outbreak would probably
have taken place. But the leaders of the movement
outside were by no means clear in their own minds
as to the course they ought to pursue. Many of them
were well satisfied of the hopelessness and foUy of
any rebellious movement, and nearly all were quite
aware that in any case the country just then was
whoUy unprepared for anything of the kind. Not a
few had a shrewd suspicion that the movement never
had taken any real hold on the heart of the country.
Some were jealous of Mitchel' s sudden popularity, and
in their secret hearts were disposed to curse him for

1848. TRANSPORTATION OF MITCHEL. 29
the trouble he had brought on them. , But they could
not attempt to give open utterance to such a sen
timent. Mitchel's boldness and resolve had placed
them at a sad disadvantage. He had that superi
ority of influence over them that downright deter
mination always gives a man over colleagues who do
not quite know what they would have. One thing
however they could do ; and that they did. They
discouraged any idea of an attempt to rescue Mitchel.
His trial came on. He was found guUty. He made
a short but powerful and impassioned speech from the
dock; he was sentenced to fourteen years' transporta
tion ; he was hurried under an escort of cavalry
through the streets of Dublin, put on board a ship
of war, and in a few hours was on his way to Ber
muda. Dublin remained perfectly quiet ; the coun
try outside hardly knew what was happening untU
Mitchel was weU on his way, and far-seeing persons
smUed to themselves and said the danger was all over.
So indeed it proved to be. The remainder of the
proceedings partook rather of the nature of burlesque.
The Young Ireland leaders became more demonstra
tive than ever. The Nation newspaper now went in
openly for rebellion, but rebellion at some unnamed
time, and when Ireland should be ready to meet the
Saxon. It seemed to be assumed that the Saxon,
with a characteristic love of fair play, would let his foes
make all the preparations they pleased without any
interference, and that when they announced them
selves ready, then, but not until then, would he come
forth to fight with them. Smith O'Brien went about

30 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TDIES. cn. xviil
the country holding reviews of the ' Confederates,' as
the Young Irelanders caUed themselves. The Go
vernment, however, showed a contempt for the rules
of fair play, suspended the Habeas Corpus Act in
Ireland, and issued warrants for the arrest of Smith
O'Brien, Meagher, and other Confederate leaders.
The Young Irelanders received the news of this un-
chivalric proceeding with an outburst of anger and
surprise which was evidently genuine. They had
clearly made up their minds that they were to go on
playing at preparation for rebelUon as long as they
liked to keep up the game. They were completely
puzzled by the new condition of things. It was not
very clear what Leonidas or Vergniaud would have
done under such circumstances; it was certam that if
they were aU arrested the country would not stir
hand or foot on their behalf. Some of the principal
leaders, therefore— Smith O'Brien, Meagher, DUlon,
and others — left Dublin and went down into the
country. It is not certain even yet whether they
had any clear purpose of rebellion at first. It seems
probable that they thought of evading arrest for a
whUe, and trying meantime if the country was ready
to foUow them into an armed movement. They held
a series of gatherings, which might be described as
meetings of agitators or marshalUngs of rebels, accord
ing as one was pleased to interpret their purpose.
But this sort of thing very soon drifted into rebelUon,
The principal body of the followers of Smith O'Brien
came into collision with the police, at a place called
Ballingarry in Tipperary, They attacked a small force

1843. THE END OF TIIE REBELLION. 31
of police, who took refuge in the cottage of a poor
widow named Cormack. The police held the house
as a besieged fort, and the rebels attacked them from
the famous cabbage-garden outside. The poUce fired
a few volleys. The rebels fired, with what wretched
muskets and rifles they possessed, but without harm
ing a single policeman. After a few of them had
been kUled or wounded — it never was perfectly cer
tain that any were actually kUled — the rebel army
dispersed, and the rebellion was all over. In a few
days after poor Smith O'Brien was taken quietly at
the railway station in Thurles, Tipperary. He was
calmly buying a ticket for Limerick when he was
recognised. He made no resistance whatever, and
seemed to regard the whole mummery as at an end.
He accepted his fate with the composure of a gentle
man, and indeed in all the part which was left for
him to play he bore himself with dignity. It is but
justice to an unfortunate gentleman to say that some
reports which were rather ignobly set abroad about
his having showed a lack of personal courage in the
Ballingarry affray were, as aU wUl readUy beUeve,
quite untrue. Some of the police deposed that during
the fight, if fight it could be called, poor O'Brien ex
posed his life with entire recklessness. One poUce-
man said he could have shot him easUy at several
periods of the little drama, but he felt reluctant to be
the slayer of the misguided descendant of the Irish
kings. It afterwards appeared also that any Uttle
chance of carrying on any manner of rebelUon was
put a stop to by Smith O'Brien's own resolution that

32 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xvm.
his rebels must not seize the private property of any
one. He insisted that his rebellion must pay its way,
and the funds were soon out. The Confederate leader
woke from a dream when he saw his followers dis
persing after the first volley or two from the police.
From that moment he behaved Uke a dignified gen
tleman, equal to the fate he had brought upon him,
Meagher and two of his companions were arrested
a few days after as they were wandering hopelessly
and aimlessly through the mountains of Tipperary.
The prisoners were brought for trial before a special
commission held at Clonmel in Tipperary, in the fol
lowing September. Smith O'Brien was the first put
on trial, and he was found guilty. He said a few
words with grave and dignified composure, simply
declaring that he had endeavoured to do his duty to
his native country and that he was prepared to abide
the consequences. He was sentenced to death after
the old form in cases of high treason — to be hanged,
beheaded, and quartered. Meagher was afterwards
found guUty. Great commiseration was felt for him.
His youth and his eloquence made all men and
women pity him. His father was a wealthy man
who had had a respected career in Parliament ; and
there had seemed at one time to be a bright and
happy Ufe before young Meagher. The short address
in which Meagher vindicated his actions when caUed
upon to show cause why sentence of death should
not be passed upon him, was fuU of manly and pa
thetic eloquence. He had nothing, he said, to retract
or to ask pardon for. ' I am not here to crave with

1848. THE DEATH-SENTENCES COSIMUTED. 33
faltering lip the life I have consecrated to the inde
pendence of my country. ... I offer to my country as
some proof of the sincerity with which I have thought
and spoken and struggled for her, the life of a young
heart. . . . The history of Ireland explains my crime
and justifies it. . . . Even here, where the shadows
of death surround me, and from which I see my early
grave opening for me in no consecrated soil, the hope
which beckoned me forth on that perUous sea whereon
I have been wrecked, animates, consoles, enraptures
me. No, I do not despair of my poor old country,
her peace, her liberty, her glory.'
Meagher was sentenced to death with the same
hideous formaUties as those which had been observed
in the case of Smith O'Brien. No one, however,
really beUeved for a moment that such a sentence was
Ukely to be carried out in the reign of Queen Victoria.
The sentence of death was changed into one of trans
portation for life. Nor was even this carried out.
The convicts were aU sent to Australia, and a few
years after Mitchel contrived to make his escape fol
lowed by Meagher, The manner of escape was at
least of doubtful credit to the prisoners, for they were
placed under parole, and a very nice question was
raised as to whether they had not broken their parole
by the attempt to escape. It was a nice question,
which in the case of men of very delicate sense of
honour could, one would think, hardly have arisen at
all. The point in Mitchel's case was, that he actually
went to the police court within whose jurisdiction he
was, formaUy and publicly announced to the magis-
VOL. II. D

34 A HISTORY OF OUR O'WN TIMES. ch. xvm.
trate that he withdrew his parole, and invited the
magistrate to arrest him then and there. But the
magistrate was unprepared for his coming and was
quite thrown off his guard. Mitchel was armed, and
so was a friend who accompanied him, and who had
planned and carried out the escape. They had horses
waiting at the door, and when they saw that the
magistrate did not know what to do, they left the
court, mounted the horses, and rode away. It was
contended by Mitchel and by his companion Mr.
P. J. Smyth (afterwards a distinguished member of
Parliament), that they had fulfiUed all the conditions
required by the parole, and had formaUy and honour
ably withdrawn it. One is only surprised how men
of honour could thus puzzle and deceive themselves.
The understood condition of a parole is that a man
who intends to -withdraw it shall place himself before
his captors in exactly the same condition as he was
when on his pledged word of honour they aUowed
him a comparative liberty. It is evident that a pri
soner would never be allowed to go at large on
parole if he were to make use of his Uberty to ar
range aU the conditions of an escape, and when every
thing was ready, take his captors by surprise, tell
them he was no longer bou,nd by the conditions of
the pledge, and that they might keep him if they
could. This was the view taken by Smith O'Brien,
who declined to have anything to do with any plot
for escape whUe he was on parole. The advisers of
the 'Crown recommended that a conditional pardon
should be given to the gallant and unfortunate gen-

1848. THE LATER CAREER OF THE LEADERS. 35
tleman who had behaved in so honourable a manner.
Smith O'Brien received a pardon on condition of his
not returning to these islands ; but this condition was
withdrawn after a time, and he came back to Ireland.
He died quietly m Wales in 1864. Mitchel settled
for a whUe in Richmond, Virginia, and became an
ardent advocate of slavery and an impassioned cham
pion of the Southern rebellion. He returned to the
North after the rebellion, and more lately came to
Ireland, where, owmg to some defect in the criminal
law, he could not be arrested, his time of penal ser
vitude having expUed although he had not served
it. He was stUl a hero with a certain class of the
people; he was put up as a candidate for an Irish
county, and elected. He was not allowed to enter the
House of Commons, however; the election was de
clared void, and a new writ was issued. He was
elected agaUi, and some turmoU was expected, when
suddenly Mitchel, who had long been in sinking
health, was withdrawn from the controversy by death.
He should have died before. The later years of his
life were only an anti-climax. His attitude in the
dock in 1848 had something of dignity and heroism
in it, and even the staunchest enemies of his cause
admired him. He had undoubtedly great Uterary
abiUty, and if he had never reappeared in politics the
world would have thought that a really briUiant
light had been prematurely extinguished. Meagher
served in the army of the Federal States when the
war broke out, and showed much of the soldier's spirit
and capacity. His end was premature and inglorious.
0)2

36 A HISTORY OP OUR OWN TIMES. ch. xvin.
He fell from the deck of a steamer one night ; it was
dark and there was a strong current running ; help
came too late. A false step, a dark night, and the
muddy waters of the Missouri closed the career that
had opened with so much promise of brightness.
Many of the conspicuous Young Irelanders rose
to some distinction. Charles Gavan Duffy, the editor
of the Nation, who was twice put on his trial after
the failure of the insurrection, but whom the jury
would not on either occasion convict, became a
member of the House of Commons, and afterwards
emigrated to the colony of Victoria. He rose to be
Prime Minister there, and received knighthood and a
pension. Thomas Darcy M'Gee, another prominent
rebel, went to the United States, and thence to
Canada, where he rose to be a minister of the Crown,
He was one of the most loyal supporters of the
British connection. His untimely death by the
hand of an assassin was lamented in England as well
as in the colony he had served so well. Some of the
Young Irelanders remained in the United States and
won repute ; others returned to England, and of these
not a few entered the House of Commons and were
respected there, the follies of their youth quite for
gotten by their colleagues, even if not disowned
by themselves. A remarkable Ulustration of the
spirit of fairness that generally pervades the House of
Commons is found in the fact that everyone there
respected John Martin, who to the day of his death
avowed himself, in Parliament and out of it, a consis
tent and uni'epentant opponent of British rule in Ire-

1S48. THE LAST OF YOUNG IRELAND. 37
land. He was respected because of the purity of his
character and the transparent sincerity of his pur
pose. Martin had been devoted to Mitchel in his
lifetime, and he died a few days after Mitchel's death.
The Young Ireland movement came and vanished
Hke a shadow. It never had any reality or substance
in it. It was a literary and poetic inspiration alto
gether. It never took the slightest hold of the pea
santry. It hardly touched any men of mature years.
It was a rather pretty playing at rebellion. It was
an imitation of the French Revolution as the Giron
dists imitated the patriots of Greece and Rome. But
it might, perhaps, have had a chance of doing memo
rable mischief if the poUcy of the one oiUy man in the
business who reaUy was in earnest and was reckless,
had been carried out. It is another Ulustration of
the fact which O'ConneU's movement had exemplified
before, that in Irish poUtics a climax cannot be re
peated or recalled. There is something fitful ui all
Irish agitation. The national emotion can be wrought
up to a certain temperature, and if at that boiling
point nothing is done, the heat suddenly goes out,
and no blowing of Cyclopean bellows can rekindle it.
The Repeal agitation was brought up to this point
when the meeting at Clontarf was convened ; the dis
persal of the meeting was the end of the whole agita
tion. With the Young Ireland movement the trial of
Mitchel formed the cUmax. After that a wise legisla
tor would have known that there was nothing more
to fear, Petion, the revolutionary Mayor of Paris,
knew that when it rained his partisans could do

38 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TBIES. cn, xvm.
nothing: There were in 1848 observant Irishmen
who knew that after the Mitchel climax had been
reached the crowd would disperse not to be collected
again for that time.
These two agitations, the Chartist and the Young
Ireland, constituted what may be called our tribute
to the power of the insurrectionary spUit that was
abroad over Europe in 1848. In almost every other
European State revolution raised its head fiercely, and
fought out its claims in the very capital, under the
eyes of bewUdered royalty. The whole of Italy, from
the Alps to the Straits of Messina, and from Venice
to Genoa, was thrown into convulsion; 'Our Italy'
once again 'shone o'er with civU swords.' There
was insurrection in Berlin and in Vienna. The
Emperor had to fly from the latter city as the Pope
had fled from Rome. In Paris there came a Red Re
publican rising against a Republic that strove not
to be red, and the rising was crushed by Cavaignac
with a terrible strenuousness that made some of the
streets of Paris literally to run with blood. It was a
grim foreshadowing of the Commune of 1871. An
other remarkable foreshadowing of what was to come
was seen in the fact that the Prince Louis Napo
leon, long an exile from France, had been allowed
to return to it, and 'at the close of the year, in
the passion for law and order at any price born
of the Red Republican excesses, had been elected
President of'the French Republic. Hungary was
in arms; Spain was in convulsion; even Switz
erland-^ was not safe. Our contribution to this

1848. ENGLAND'S TRIBUTE TO INSURRECTION. 39
general commotion was to be found in the demon
stration on Kennington Common, and the abortive
attempt at a rising near Ballingarry. There could
not possibly be a truer tribute to the solid strength
of our system. Not for one moment was the poli
tical constitution of England seriously endangered.
Not for one hour did the safety of our great com
munities require a call upon the soldiers instead
of upon the police. Not one charge of cavalry
was needed to put down the fiercest outburst of
the rebelUous spirit in England. Not one single
execution took place. The meaning of this is clear.
It is not that there were no grievances in our system
calling for redress. It is not that the existing insti
tutions did not bear heavUy down on many classes.
It is not that our poUtical or social system was
so conspicuously better than that of some European
countries which were torn and ploughed up by re
volution. To imagine that we owed our freedom
fi:'om revolution to our freedom from serious grie
vance would be to misread altogether the lessons
offered to our statesmen by that eventful year. We
have done the work of whole generations of Re
formers in the Uiterval between this time and that.
We have made peaceful reforms, political, industrial,
legal, since then which, if not to be had otherwise,
would have justified any appeal to revolution. There,
however, we touch upon the lesson of the time. Our
political and constitutional system rendered an appeal
to force unnecessary and superfluous. No caU to
arms was needed to bring about any reform that the

40 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xvm.
common judgment of the country might demand.
Other peoples flew to arms because they were driven
by despair ; because there was no way in their politi
cal constitution for the influence of public opinion to
make itself justly felt ; because those who were in
power held it by the force of bayonets and not of
public agreement. The results of the year were on the
whole unfavourable to popular liberty. The results
of the year that foUowed were decidedly reactionary.
The time had not come in 1848 or 1849 for Liberal
principles to assert themselves. Their ' great deed,'
to quote some of the words of our EngUsh poetess,
Ehzabeth Barrett Browning, ' was too great.' We in
this country were saved alike from the revolution
and the reaction by the universal recognition of the
fact among all who gave themselves tinae to think,
that public opinion, being the ultimate ruling power,
was the only authority to which an appeal was
needed, and that in the end justice would be done.
AU but the very wUdest spirits could afford to wait ;
and no revolutionary movement is reaUy dangerous
which is only the work of the wUdest spirits.

41

CHAPTER XIX.
DON PACIFICO.
The name of Don Pacifico was as famUiar to the world
some quarter of a century ago as that of M. Jecker
was about the time of the French invasion of Mexico.
Don Pacifico became famous for a season as the man
whose quarrel had nearly brought on a European
war, caused a temporary disturbance of good rela
tions between England and France, split up political
parties in England in a manner hardly ever kno-wa
before, and established the reputation of Lord Pal
merston as one of the greatest Parliamentary debaters
of his time. Among the memorable speeches de
livered in the EngUsh liouse of Commons that of
Lord Palmerston on the Don Pacifico debate must
always take a place. It was not because the subject
of the debate was a great one, or because there were
any grand principles involved. The question origi
naUy in dispute was unutterably trivial and paltry ;
there was no particular principle involved ; it was
altogether what is called in commercial Utigation a
question of account ; a controversy about the amount
and time of payment of a doubtful claim. Nor was
the speech delivered by Lord Palmerston one of the
grand historical displays of oratory that even when

42 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xix.
the sound of them is lost send their echoes to ' roU
from soul to soul.' It was not like one of Burke's
great speeches, or one of Chatham's. It was not one
calculated to provoke keen literary controversy, lUce
Sheridan's celebrated ' Begum speech,' which all con
temporaries held to be unrivaUed, but which a later
generation assumes to have been rather flashy rhetorico
There are no passages of splendid eloquence in Pal
merston' s Pacifico speech. Its great merit was its
wonderful power as a contribution to Parliamentary
argument ; as a masterly appeal to the feelings, the
prejudices, and the passions of the House of Com
mons ; as a complete Parliamentary victory over a
combination of the most influential, eloquent, and
heterogeneous opponents.
Don Pacifico was a Jew, a Portuguese by extrac
tion, but a native of Gibraltar and a British subject.
His house in Athens was attacked and plundered in
the open day on AprU 4, 1847, by an Athenian mob,
who were headed, it was affirmed, by two sons of the
Greek Minister of War. The attack came about in
this way. It had been customary in Greek towns to
celebrate Easter by burning an efiigy of Judas Iscariot.
In 1847 the poUce of Athens were ordered to prevent
this performance, and the mob, disappomted of their
favourite amusement, ascribed the new orders to the
influence of the Jews. Don Pacifico's house happened
to stand near the spot where the Judas was annually
burnt; Don Pacifico was known to be a Jew; and
the anger of the mob was wreaked upon him accord
ingly. There could be no. doubt that the attack was

1850. MR. FINLAY'S CLAIM. 43
lawless, and that the Greek authorities took no trouble
to protect Pacifico against it. Don Pacifico made a
claim against the Greek Government for compensa
tion. He estimated his losses, direct and indirect, at
nearly thirty-two thousand pounds sterling. Another
claim was made at the same time by another British
subject, a man of a very different stamp from Don
Pacifico. This was Mr. Finlay, the historian of
Greece. Mr. Finlay had gone out to Greece in the
enthusiastic days of Byron and Cochrane and Church
and Hastings ; and he settled in Athens when the
independence of Greece had been established. Some
of his land had been taken for the purpose of round
ing off the new palace gardens of King Otho; and
Mr. Finlay had declined to accept the terms offered
hj the Greek Government, to which other landowners
in the same position as himself had assented. Some
stress was laid by Lord Palmerston's antagonists in
the course of the debate on the fact that Mr. Fmlay
thus stood out apart from other landowners in Athens.
Mr. Finlay, however, had a perfect right to stand out
for any price he thought fit. He was in the same
position as a Greek resident of London or Manchester
whose land is taken for the purposes of a raUway or
other public improvement, and who declines to accept
the amount of compensation tendered for it in the
first instance. The pecuUarity of the case was that
Mr. Finlay was not left, as the supposed Greek gentle
man assuredly would be, to make good his claims for
himself in the courts of law. Neither Don Pacifico
nor Mr. Finlay had appealed to the law courts at all.

44 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TBIES. cn. xix.
But about this time our Foreign Office had had
several little complaints against the Greek authorities.
We had taken so considerable a part in setting up
Greece that our ministers not unnaturally thought
Greece ought to show her gratitude by attending a
little more closely to our advice. On the other hand
Lord Palmerston had made up his mind that there
was constant intrigue going on against our interests
among the foreign diplomatists in Athens. He was
convinced that France was perpetuaUy plotting
against us there, and that Russia was watching an
opportu.nity to supersede once for all our influence
by completely establishing hers. Don Pacifico's
sheets, counterpanes, and gold watch had the advan
tage of bemg made the subject of a trial of strength
between England on the one side, and France and
Russia on the other.
There had been other complaints as weU. Ionian
subjects of her Majesty had sent in remonstrances
against lawless or high-handed proceedings; and a
midshipman of her Majesty's ship Fantdme, landing
from a boat at night on the shore of Patras, had been
arrested by mistake. None of these questions would
seem at first sight to wear a very grave international
character. All they needed for settlement, it might
be thought, was a little open discussion and the
exercise of some good sense and moderation on both
sides. It cannot be doubted that the Greek authori
ties were lax and careless, and that acts had been
done which they could not justify. It is only fair
to say that they do not appear to have tried to justify

1850. PALMERSTON'S INTERVENTION. 45
some of them ; but they were of opinion that certain
of the claims were absurdly exaggerated, and in this
beUef they proved to be well sustained. The Greeks
were very poor, and also very dUatory; and they
gave Lord Palmerston a reasonable excuse for a
little impatience. Unluckily Lord Palmerston became
possessed -with the idea that the French minister in
Greece was secretly setting the Greek Government
on to resist our claims. For the Foreign Office had
made the claims ours. They had lumped up the
outrages on Ionian seamen, the mistaken arrest of
the midshipman (who had been released with apolo
gies, the moment his nationality and position were
discovered), Mr. Finlay's land, and Don Pacifico's
household furniture m one claim, converted it into a
national demand, and insisted that Greece must pay
up -within a given time or take the consequences.
Greece hesitated, and accordingly the British fleet
was ordered to the Pira3us. It made its appearance
very promptly there, and seized aU the Greek vessels
belonging to the Government and to private mer
chants that were found within the waters.
The Greek Government appealed to France and
Russia as powers joined with us in the treaty to pro
tect the independence of Greece. France and Russia
were both disposed to make bitter complaint of not
having been consulted in the first instance by the
British Government; nor was their feeling greatly
softened by Lord Palmerston's peremptory reply
that it was all a question between England and
Greece, with which no other power had any busi-

46 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn, xix.
ness to interfere. The Russian Government wrote
an angry, and indeed an offensive remonstrance. The
Russian Foreign Muiister spoke of ' the very painful
impression produced upon the mind of the Emperor
by the unexpected acts of violence which the British
authorities had just directed against Greece'; and
asked if Great Britam, ' abusing the advantages which
are afforded to her by her immense maritime supe
riority,' intended to 'disengage herself from aU obU-
gation,' and to ' authorise all great powers on every
fitting opportunity to recognise towards the weak no
other rule but their own will, no other right but
their own physical strength.' The French Govern^
ment, perhaps under the pressure of difficulties and
uncertain affairs at home, in their unsettled state
showed a better temper, and intervened only in the
interests of peace and good understanding. Some
thing Uke a friendly arbitration was accepted from
France, and the French Government sent a special
representative to Athens to try to come to terms with
our minister there. The difficulties appeared likely
to be adjusted. All the claims except those of Don
Pacifico were matter of easy settlement, and at first
the French commissioner seemed even wUling to
accept Don Pacifico's stupendous valuation of his
household goods. But Pacifico had introduced other
demands of a more shadowy character. He said
that he had certain claims on the Portuguese Govern
ment, and that the papers on which these claims
rested for support were destroyed in the sacking
of his house, and therefore he felt entitled to ask

1850. UNLUCKY NEGOTIATIONS. 47
for 26,618^. as compensation on that account also.
The French commissioner was a little staggered
at this demand, and declined to accede to it with
out further consideration; and as our minister,
Mr. Wyse, did not believe he had any authority to
abate any of the now national demand, the negotia
tion was for the time broken off. In the meantime,
however, negotiations had stUl been going on between
the EngUsh and French Governments in London, and
these had resulted in a convention disposing of aU
the disputed claims. By the terms of this agreement
a sum of eight thousand five hundred pounds was
to be paid by the Greek Government to be divided
among the various claimants ; and Greece was also
to pay whatever sum might be found to be fairly
due on account of Don Pacifico's Portuguese claims
after these had been investigated by arbitrators. This
would seem a very satisfactory and honourable ar^
rangement. But some demon of mischief appeared
to have this unlucky affair in charge from the first.
The two negotiations going on m London and Athens
simultaneously got in each other's way. Instructions
as to what had been agreed to in London were not
forwarded to Athens quickly enough by the English
Government, and when the French Government sent
out to their commissioner the news of the convention
he found that Mr. Wyse knew nothing about the
matter, and had no authority which, as he conceived,
would have warranted him in departing from the
course of action he was following out. Mr. Wyse,
therefore, proceeded with his measures of coercion,

48 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. on. xix.
and at length the Greek Government gave way. The
convention having, however, been made in the mean
time in London, there then arose a question as to
whether that convention ©r the terms extorted at
Athens should be the basis of arrangement. Over
this trumpery dispute, which a few words of frank
good sense and good temper on both sides would
have easUy settled, a new quarrel seemed at one time
likely to break out between England and France. .
The French Government actually withdrew their
ambassador, M. Drouyn de Lhuys, from London ;
and there was for a short time a general alarm over
Europe. But the question in dispute was really too
small and msignificant for any two rational govern
ments to make it a cause of serious quarrel ; and after
a while our Government gave way, and agreed to an
arrangement which was in the main aU that France
desired. When, after a long lapse of time, the arbi
trators came to settle the claims of Don Pacifico, it
was found that he was entitled to about one-thirtieth
of the sum he had originally demanded. He had
assessed all his claims on the same liberal and fan
ciful scale as that which he adopted in estimating the
value of his household property. Don Pacifico,
it seems, charged in his bUl one hundred aiid fifty
pounds sterling for a bedstead, thirty pounds for the
sheets of the bed, twenty -five pounds for two cover
lets, and ten pounds for a pUlow-case. Cleopatra
might have been contented with bed-furniture so
luxurious as Don Pacifico represented himself to
have in his common use. The jewellery of his wife

1850. THE VOTE IN THE HOUSE OF LORDS. 49
and daughters he estimated at two thousand pounds.
He gave no vouchers for any of these claims, saying
that aU his papers had been destroyed by the mob.
It seemed too that he had always lived in a humble
sort of way, and was never supposed by his neigh
bours to possess such splendour of ornament and
household goods.
WhUe the controversy between the English and
?French Governments was yet unfinished, a ParUamen-
tary controversy between the former Government and
the Opposition in the House of Lords was to begin.
Lord Stanley proposed a resolution which was practi
caUy a vote of censure on the Government. The re
solution Ui fact expressed the regret of the House to
find that ' various claims against the Greek Govern
ment, doubtful in point of justice, or exaggerated in
amount, have been enforced by coercive measures,
directed against the commerce and people of Greece,
and calculated to endanger the continuance of our
friendly relations with foreign powers.' The resolu
tion was carried, after a debate of great spirit and
energy, by a majority of thirty-seven. Lord Pal
merston was not dismayed. A Ministry is seldom
greatly troubled by an adverse vote in the House of
Lords. The Foreign Secretary, writing about the re
sult of the division the following day, merely said :
' We were beaten last night in the Lords by a larger
majority than we had, up to the last moment,
expected ; but when we took office we knew that our
opponents had a larger pack in the Lords than we
had, and that whenever the two packs were to be
VOL. II. E

50 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xix.
fully dealt out, theirs would show a larger number
than ours.' StUl it was necessary that something
should be done in the Commons to counterbalance
the stroke of the Lords, and accordingly Mr. Roe
buck, acting as an independent member, although
on this occasion in harmony with the Government,
gave notice of a resolution which boldly affirmed
that the principles on which the foreign poUcy of
the Government had been regulated were ' such
as were calculated to maintain the honour and
dignity of this country ; and in times of unexam
pled difficulty to preserve peace between England
and the various nations of the world.' On June
24, 1850, a night memorable in ParUamentary
annals as the opening night of the debate which
estabUshed Lord Palmerston's position as a great
leader of party, Mr. Roebuck brought forward his
resolution. A reader unaccustomed to ParUamentary tactics
may faU to observe the peculiar shrewdness of the
resolution. It was framed, at least it reads as if it
had been framed, to accomplish one purpose, whUe
professing to serve another. It was intended, of
course, as a reply to the censure of the House of
Lords. It was to proclaim to the world that the Re
presentative Chamber had reversed the decision of the
House of Peers, and acquitted the Ministry. But
what did Mr. Roebuck's resolution actually do ? Did
it affirm that the Government had acted rightly with
regard to Greece ? The dealings with Greece were
expressly censured by the House of Lords ; but Mr.

1850. MR. ROEBUCK'S MOTION. 51
Roebuck proposed to affirm that the general policy
of the Ministry deserved the approval of the House of
Commons. It was well known that there were many
men of Liberal opinions in the House of Commons
who did not approve of the course pursued with
regard to Greece, but who would yet have been very
sorry to give a vote which might contribute to
the overthrow of a Liberal Government. The re
solution was so framed as to offer to all such an
opportunity of supporting the Government, and yet
satisfying their consciences. For it might be thus
put to them — ' You think the Government were too
harsh with Greece ? Perhaps you are right. But
this resolution does not say that they were quite free
of blame in their way of dealing with Greece. It
only says that their poUcy on the whole has been
sound and successful ; and of course you must admit
that. They may have made a Uttle mistake with
regard to Greece ; but admitting that, do you not still
think that on the whole they have done very weU,
and much better than any Tory Ministry would be
Ukely to do ? This is all that Roebuck's resolution
asks you to affirm ; and you really cannot vote
against it.'
A large number of Liberals were no doubt in
fluenced by this view of the situation, and by the
franung of the resolution. But there were some who
could not be led into any approval of the particular
transaction which the resolution, if not intended to
cover, would certainly be made to cover. There
were others, too, who, even on the broader field,
e2

52 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xix.
opened purposely up by the resolution, honestly
believed that Lord Palmerston's general poUcy was
an incessant violation of the principle of non-inter
vention, and was therefore injurious to the cha
racter and the safety of the country. In a prolonged
and powerful debate some of the foremost men on
both sides of the House opposed and denounced the
policy of the Government, for which, as everyone
knew. Lord Palmerston was almost exclusively re
sponsible. ' The aUied troops who led the attack,'
says Mr. Evelyn Ashley, in his Life of Lord Palmer
ston, ' were English Protectionists and foreign Abso
lutists.' It is strange that an able and usuaUy fair-
minded man should be led into such an absurdity.
Lord Palmerston himself caUed it ' a shot fired by a
foreign conspiracy aided and abetted by a domestic
intrigue.' But Lord Palmerston was the minister
personally assaUed, and might be excused, perhaps,
for beUeving at the moment that warring monarchs
were givmg the fatal wound, and that the attack on him
was the work of the combined treachery of Europe,
An historian looking back upon the events after an
interval of a quarter of a century ought to be able to
take a calmer view of thmgs. Among the ' EngUsh
Protectionists ' who took a prominent part in con
demning the poUcy of Lord Palmerston, were Mr.
Gladstone, Mr. Cobden, Sir Robert Peel, Sir WU
Uam Molesworth, and Mr. Sidney Herbert. In the
House of Lords, Lord Brougham, Lord Canning and
Lord Aberdeen had supported the resolution of Lord
Stanley. The truth is that Lord Palmerston's pro-

1850. LORD PALMERSTON'S DEFENCE. 53
eeedings were fairly open to difference of judgment
even on the part of the most devoted Liberals and
the most independent thinkers. It did not need that
a man should be a Protectionist or an Absolutist to
explain his entire disapproval of such a course of
conduct as that which had been followed out with
regard to Greece. It seems to us now, quietly look
ing back at the whole story, hardly possible that a
man -with, for example, the temperament and the
general views of Mr. Gladstone could have approved
of such a poUcy ; obviously impossible that a man
Uke Mr. Cobden could have approved of it. These men
simply followed their judgment and their conscience.
The principal interest of the debate now rests
in the manner of Lord Palmerston's defence. The
speech was indeed a masterpiece of ParUamentary
argument and address. It was in part a complete
exposition and defence of the whole course of the
foreign policy which the noble speaker had directed.
But although the resolution treated only of the gen
eral policy of the Government, Lord Palmerston did
not faU to make a special defence of his action to
wards Greece. He based his vindication of this par
ticular chapter of his policy on the ground which, of
aU others, gave him most advantage in addressing a
ParUamentary assembly. He contended that in aU
he had done he had been actuated by the resolve that
the poorest claimant who bore the name of an Eng
lish citizen should be protected by the whole strength
of England against the oppression of a foreign go
vemment. His speech was an appeal to aU the ele-

54 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TBIES. ch. xix.
mentary emotions of manhood and citizenship and
good-feUowship. To vote agauist him seemed to be
to declare that England was unable or unwUUng to
protect her chUdren. A man appeared to be guUty
of an unpatriotic and ignoble act who censured the
minister whose only error, if error it were, was a too
proud and generous resolve to make the name of
England and the rights of EngUshmen respected
throughout the world. A good deal of ridicule had
been heaped not unnaturaUy on Don Pacifico, his
claims, his career, and his costly bed furniture. Lord
Palmerston turned that very ridicule to good account
for his own cause. He repeUed with a warmth of
seemingly generous indignation the suggestion that
because a man was lowly, pitiful, even ridiculous,
even of doubtful conduct in his earlier career, there
fore he was one with whom a foreign government was
not bound to observe any principles of fair dealing
at aU. He protested against having serious things
treated jocosely; as if any man in Parhament had
ever treated serious things more often in a jocose
spirit. He protested against having the House kept
'in a roar of laughter at the poverty of one suf
ferer, or at the miserable habitation of another ; at
the nationality of one man, or the religion of another;
as if because a man was poor he might be basti
nadoed and tortured with impunity, as if a man who
was born in Scotland might be robbed without re
dress, or because a man is of the Jewish persuasion
he is a fair mark for any outrage.' Lord Palmerston
had also a great advantage given to biTn by the argu-

1850. THE PROTECTION OF ENGLISHMEN ABROAD. 55
ment of some of his opponents, that whatever the
laws of a foreign country, a stranger has only to abide
by them, and that a government claiming redress for
any wrong done to one of its subjects is completely
answered by the statement that he has suffered only
as inhabitants of the country themselves have suf
fered. The argument against Lord Palmerston was
pushed entirely too far in this instance, and it gave
him one of his finest opportunities for reply. It
is true as a general rule m the intercourse of nations,
that a stranger who goes voluntarily into a country
is expected to abide by its laws, and that his govern
ment will not protect him from their ordinary opera
tion in every case where it may seem to press hardly
or even unfairly against him. But in this under
standing is always involved a distinct assumption
that the laws of the State are to be such as civiUsa-
tion would properly recognise; supposing that the
State in question professes to be a civUised State. It
is also distinctly assumed that the State must be able
and wUling to enforce its own laws where they are
fairly invoked on behalf of a foreigner. If, for in
stance, a foreigner has a just claim against some con
tinental government, and that government wUl not
recognise the claim, or recognismg it wUl not satisfy
it ; an'd the government of the mjured man intervenes
and asks that his claim shall be met, — it would never
be accounted a sufficient answer to say that many of
the inhabitants of the country had been treated just
in the same way, and had got no redress. If there
were a law in Turkey, or any other slave-owning

56 A IHSTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xix.
State, that a man who could not pay his debts was
Uable to have his wife and daughter sold Uito slavery,
it is certain that no government like that of England
would hear of the application of such a law to the
famUy of a poor English trader settled in Constanti
nople. There is no clear rule easy to be laid down ;
perhaps there can be no clear rule on the subject at
aU, But it is evident that the governments of all
ci-vUised countries do exercise a certain protectorate
over their subjects in foreign countries, and do insist
in extreme cases that the laws of the country shaU
not be applied or denied to them in a manner which
a native resident might thmk himself compeUed to
endure without protest. It is not even so in the
case of manifestly harsh and barbarous laws alone,
or of the denial of justice in a harsh and barbarous'
way. The principle prevaUs even in regard to laws
which are in themselves unexceptionable and neces
sary. No government, for example, wUl aUow one
of its subjects living in a foreign country to be
brought under the law for the levying of the con
scription there, and compeUed to serve in the army
of the foreign State.
All this only shows that the opponents of Lord
Palmerston made a mistake when they endeavoured
to obtain any general assent to the principle that a
minister does wrong who asks for his fellow-subjects
at the hands of a foreign government any better treat
ment than that which the government in question
administers, and without revolt, to its own people.
Lord Palmerston was not the man to lose so splendid

1850. 'CIVIS ROMANUS SUM.' 57
an opportunity. He really made it appear as if the
question between him and his opponents was that of
the protection of Englishmen abroad ; as if he were
anxious to look after their Uves and safety, whUe his
opponents were urging the odious principle that
when once an Englishman put his foot on a foreign
shore his own government renounced all Uitent to
concern themselves with any fate that might befall
him. Here was a new turn given to the debate, a
new opportunity afforded to those who, whUe they
did not approve exactly of what had been done
with Greece, were nevertheless anxious to support
the general principles of Lord Palmerston's foreign
poUcy. The speech was a marvellous appeal to what
are caUed 'English Uiterests.' In a peroration of
thrUling power Lord Palmerston asked for the ver
dict of the House to decide ' whether, as the Roman
in days of old held himself free from indignity when
he could say "Civis Romanus sum," so also a British
subject, in whatever land he may be, shaU feel con
fident that the watchful eye and the strong arm of
England wUl protect him against injustice and
wrong.' When Lord Palmerston closed his speech the
overwhelming plaudits of the House foretold the
victory he had won. It was indeed a masterpiece
of teUing defence. The speech occupied some five
hours in delivery. It was spoken, as Mr. Gladstone
afterwards said, from the dusk of one day to the
dawn of the next. It was spoken without the help
of a single note. Lord Pcimerston always wisely

58 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xix.
thought that in order to have fuU command of such
an audience a man should, if possible, never use
notes. He was quite conscious of his own lack of
the higher gifts of imagination and emotion that
make the great orator; but he knew also what a
splendid weapon of attack and defence was his
fluency and readiness, and he was not wUUng to
weaken the effect of its spontaneity by the interpo
sition of a single note. All this great speech, there
fore, full as it was of minute detaUs, names, dates,
figures, references of all kinds, was delivered with the
same facUity, the same lack of effort, the same absence
of any adventitious aids to memory which charac
terised Palmerston's ordinary style when he answered
a simple question. Nothing could be more complete
than Palmerston's success. ' Civis Romanus ' settle'd
the matter. "Who was in the House of Commons so
rude that would not be a Roman ? Who was there
so lacking in patriotic spirit that would not have his
countrymen as good as any Roman citizen of them aU ?
It was to Uttle purpose that Mr. Gladstone, in a speech
of singular argumentative power, pointed out that ' a
Roman citizen was the member of a privUeged caste, of
a victorious and conquering nation, of a nation that
held all others bound down by the strong arm of power
— which had one law for him and another for the rest
of the world, which asserted in his favour principles
which it denied to all others.' It was in vain that Mr.
Gladstone asked whether Lord Palmerston thought
that was the position which it would become a civi
lised and Christian nation like England to claim for
her citizens. The glory of being a ' civis Romanus' ^

1850. THE MINISTERIAL TRIUMPH. 59
was far too strong for any mere argument drawn
from fact and common sense to combat against it.
The phrase had carried the day. When Mr. Cock-
burn, in supporting Lord Palmerston's policy, quoted
from classical authority to show that the Romans
had always avenged any wrongs done to their citi
zens, and cited from one of Cicero's speeches against
Verres, ' Quot bella maj ores nostros et quanta
suscepisse arbitramini, quod cives Romani injuria af-
fecti, quod navicularU retenti, quod mercatores spoliati
dicerentur ? ' the House cheered more tumultuously
than ever. In vain was the calm, grave, studiously
moderate remonstrance of Sir Robert Peel, who,
whUe generously declaring that Palmerston's speech
'made us all proud of the man who delivered it,' yet
recorded his firm protest against the style of policy
which Palmerston's eloquence had endeavoured to
glorify. The victory was aU with Palmerston. He
had, in the words of Shakespeare's Rosalind, wrestled
weU and overthro-wn more than his enemies.
After a debate of four nights, a majority of forty-
six was given for the resolution. The Ministry came
out not only absolved but triumphant. The odd
thing about the whole proceeding is that the minis
ters in general heartUy disapproved of the sort of
poUcy which Palmerston put so energeticaUy into
action — at least they disapproved, if not his prin
ciples, yet certainly his way of enforcing them. Be
fore this debate came on Lord John Russell had made
up his mind that it would be impossible for him to
remain in office with Lord Palmerston as Foreign
Secretary. None the less, however, did Lord John

60 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xix.
RusseU defend the policy of the Foreign Office Ul a
speech which Palmerston himself described as ' ad
mirable and first-rate.' The ministers felt bound to
stand by the actions which they had not repudiated
at the time when they were done. They could not
aUow Lord Palmerston to be separated from them in
political responsibility when they had not separated
themselves from moral responsibUity for his proceed
ings in time. Therefore they had to defend in Par
liament what they did not pretend to approve in
private. The theory of a Cabinet always united when
attacked rendered doubtless such a course of proceed
ing necessary Ui Parliamentary tactics. It would,
perhaps, be hard to make it seem quite satisfactory
to the simple and unsophisticated mind. No part of
our duty calls on us to attempt such a task. It was
a famous victory — we must only settle the question
as old Caspar disposed of the doubts about the pro
priety of the praise given to the Duke of Marlborough
and ' our good Prince Eugene,' ' It is not telling a
Ue,' says some one in Thackeray, ' it is only voting
with your party.' But Thackeray had never been in
the House of Commons.
Of many fine speeches made during this briUiant
debate we must notice one in particular. It was that
of Mr. Cockburn, then member for Southampton — a
speech to which aUusion has already been made.
Never in our time has a reputation been more sud
denly, completely, and deservedly made than Mr.
Cockburn won by his brUliant display of ingenious
argument and stirring words. The manner of the

1850. MR. COCKBURN'S SPEECH. 61
speaker lent additional effect to his clever and capti
vating eloquence. He had a clear, sweet, penetrating
voice, a fluency that seemed so easy as to make
Usteners sometimes fancy that it ought to cost no
effort, and a grace of gesture such as it must be
owned the courts of law where he had had his train
ing do not often teach. Mr. Cockburn defended the
poUcy of Palmerston with an effect only inferior to
that produced by Palmerston's own speech, and with
a rhetorical grace and finish to which Palmerston
made no pretension. In writing to Lord Normanby
about the debate. Lord Palmerston distributed his
praise to friends and enemies with that generous
impartiaUty which was a fine part of his character.
Gladstone's attack on his policy he pronounced 'a
first-rate performance.' Peel and Disraeli he praised
lUiewise. But ' as to Cockburn's,' he said, ' I do not
know that I ever in the course of my life heard a
better speech, from anybody, without any exception.'
The effect which Cockburn's speech produced on the
House was well described in the House itself by one
who rose chiefly for the purpose of disputing the
principles it advocated. Mr. Cobden observed that
when Mr. Cockburn had concluded his speech, ' one-
half of the Treasury benches were left empty whUe
honourable members ran after one another, tumbling
over each other in their haste to shake hands with
the honourable and learned member.' Mr. Cock-
burn's career was safe from that hour. It is needless
to say that he weU upheld in after years the reputa
tion he won in a night. The brUUant and sudden

62 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TBIES. cn. xix.
success of the member for Southampton was but the
fitting prelude to the abiding distinction won by the
Lord Chief Justice of England.
One association of profound melancholy clings to
that great debate. The speech delivered by Sir Robert
Peel was the last that was destined to come from his
Ups. The debate closed on the morning of Saturday,
June 29. It was nearly four o'clock when the division
was taken, and Peel left the house as the sunUght
was already begUming to stream into the corridors
and lobbies. He went home to rest ; but his sleep
could not be long. He had to attend a meeting of
the Royal Commissioners of the Great Industrial Ex
hibition at twelve, and the meeting was important.
The site of the buUdUig had to be decided upon, and
Prince Albert and the Commissioners generaUy reUed
greatly on the influence of Sir Robert Peel to sustain
them against the clamorous objection out of doors to
the choice of a place in Hyde Park, Peel went to the
meeting and undertook to assume the leading part in
defending the decision of the Commissioners before
the House of Commons, He returned home for a
short time after the meeting, and then set out for a
ride in the Park, He called at Buckingham Palace
and wrote his name in the Queen's visiting-book.
Then as he was riding up Constitution HUl he stopped
to talk to a young lady, a friend of his, who was also
riding. His horse suddenly shied and flung him
off ; and Peel clinging to the bridle, the animal fell
with its knees on his shoulders. The injuries which
he received proved beyond aU skUl of surgery. He

1850. DEATH OF SIR ROBERT PEEL. 63
Ungered, now conscious, now delirious with pain, for
two or three days ; and he died about eleven o'clock
on the night of July 2. Most of the members of his
famUy and some of his dearest old friends and com
panions in political arms were beside him when he
died. The tears of the Duke of WelUngton in one
House of ParUament, and the eloquence of Mr. Glad
stone in the other, were expressions as fitting and
adequate as might be of the universal feeling of the
nation. There was no honour which ParUament and the
country would not "wUlingly have paid to the memory
of Peel. Lord John Russell proposed with the sanc
tion of the Crown that his remains should be buried
with pubUc honours. But Peel had distinctly de
clared in his -mU that he desired his remains to lie
beside those of his father and mother in the famUy
vault at Drayton Bassett. All that ParUament and
the country could do therefore was to decree a monu
ment to him in Westminster Abbey. The offer of a
peerage was made to Lady Peel, but, as might per
haps have been expected, it was declined. Lady Peel
declared that her own desire was to bear no other
name than that by which her husband had been
known. She also explained that the express wish
of her husband, recorded Ui his wUl, was that no
member of his famUy should accept any title or other
reward on account of any services Peel might have
rendered to his country. No desire could have been
more honourable to the statesman who had formed
and expressed it ; none certainly more in keeping

64 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TBIES. cn. xxx.
with all that was known of the severely unselfish and
unostentatious character of Sir Robert Peel. Yet
there were persons found to misconstrue his meaning
and to discover offence to the order of aristocracy in
Peel's determination. A report went about that the
great statesman's objection to the acceptance of a
peerage by one of his family implied a disparagement
of the order of peers, and was founded on feelings of
contempt or hostility to the House of Lords. Mr.
Goulburn, who was one of Peel's executors, easily
explained Peel's meaning, if indeed it needed explana
tion to any reasonable mind. Peel was impressed
with the conviction that it was better for a man to be
the son of his own works ; and he desired that his
sons, if they were to bear titles and distinctions given
them by the State, should win them by theU own ser
vices and worth, and not simply put them on as an
inheritance from their father. As regards himself, it
may well be that he thought the name under which
he had made his reputation became him better than
any new title. He had not looked for reward of that
kind, and might well prefer to mark the fact that he
did not speciaUy value such distinctions. Nor would
it be any disparagement to the peerage — a thing which
in the case of a man with Peel's opinions is utterly
out of the question — to think that much of the dignity
of a title depends on its long descent and its historic
record, and that a fire-new, speciaUy invented title
to a man already great is a disfigurement, or at least
a disguise, rather than an adornment. When titles
were abolished during the great French Revolution,

1850. WHAT 'MIGHT HAVE BEEN.' 65
Mirabeau complained of being called ' Citizen Ri-
quetti ' in the official reports of the Assembly. ' With
your Riquetti,' he said angrUy, ' you have puzzled aU
Europe for days.' Europe knew Count Mirabeau, but
was for some time bewUdered by Citizen Riquetti.
Sir Robert Peel may well have objected to a reversal
of the process, and to the bewUdering of Europe by
disguising a famous citizen in a new peerage.
' Peel's death,' Lord Palmerston wrote to his
brother a few days after, putting the remark at the
close of a long letter about the recent victory of the
Government and the congratulations he had person-
aUy received, ' is a great calamity, and one that seems
to have had no adequate cause. He was a very bad
and awkward rider, and his horse might have been
sat by any better equestrian ; but he seems somehow
or other to have been entangled in the bridle, and to
have puUed the horse to step or kneel upon him. The
injury to the shoulder was severe but curable ; that
which kUled bim was a broken rib forced with great
violence inwards into the lungs.' The cause of Peel's
death would certainly not have been adequate, as Lord
Palmerston put it, if great men needed prodigious and
portentous events to bring about their end. But the
stumble of a horse has been found enough in other
instances too. Peel seemed destined for great thmgs
yet when he died. He was but Ui his sixty-third
year ; he was some years younger than Lord Pal
merston, who may be said without exaggeration to
have just achieved his first great success. Many cir
cumstances were pointing to Peel as Ukely before long
VOL. II. F

66 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xix.
to be summoned again to the leadership in the go
vernment of the country. It is superfluous to say
that his faculties as ParUamentary orator or states
man were not showing any signs of decay. An Eng
lish public man is not supposed to show signs of
decaying faculties at sixty-two. The shying horse
and perhaps the bad ridership settled the question of
Peel's career between them. We have already en
deavoured to estimate that career and to do justice to
Peel's great quaUties. He was not a man of original
genius, but he was one of the best administrators of
other men's ideas that ever knew how and when to
leave a party and to serve a country. He was never
tried by the severe tests which tell whether a man is
a statesman of the highest order. He was never tried
as Cavour, for example, was tried, by conditions
which placed the national existence of his country
in jeopardy. He had no such trials to encounter as
were forced on Pitt. He was the minister of a coun
try always peaceful, safe, and prosperous. But he
was called upon at a trying moment to take a step
on which assuredly much of the prosperity of the
people and nearly all the hopes of his party along
with his own personal reputation were imperilled.
He did not want courage to take the step, and he had
the judgment to take it at the right time. He bore
the reproaches of that which had been his party with
dignity and composure. He was undoubtedly, as
Lord Beaconsfield caUs him, a great member of Par
liament; but he was surely also a great minister.
Perhaps he only needed a profounder trial at the

1850. DEATH OP LOUIS PHILIPPE. 67
hands of fate to have earned the title of a great
man. To the same year belongs the close of another
remarkable career. On August 26, 1850, Louis
PhUippe, lately King of the French, died at Clare-
mont, the guest of England, Few men in history
had gone through greater reverses. Son of Philippe
EgaUt^, brought up in a sort of blending of luxury
and scholastic self-denial, under the contrasting influ
ence of his father and of his teacher, Madame de GenUs,
a woman fuU at least of virtuous precept and Rous
seau -lUce profession, he showed great force of character
during the Revokition, He stUl regarded France as
his country, though she no longer gave a throne
to any of his famUy. He had fought like a brave
young soldier at Valmy and Jemappes. ' Egalite Fils,^
says Carlyle, speaking of the young man at Valmy —
' EquaUty Junior, a Ught, gaUant field-officer, distin
guished himself by intrepidity — it is the same intre
pid indi-sddual who now, as Louis PhUippe, -without
the EquaUty, struggles under sad circumstances to be
caUed King of the French for a season.' It is he who,
as Carlyle also describes it, saves his sister with such
spirit and energy when Madame de GenUs with aU
her fine precepts would have left her behind to what
ever danger. ' Behold the young Princely Brother,
struggUng hitherward, hastUy calling ; bearing the
Princess in his arms. HastUy he has clutched the poor
young lady up, in her very night-gown, nothing saved
of her goods except the watch from the pUlow ; with
brotherly despair he flings her in, among the band-

68 A IHSTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xix.
boxes, into GenUs's chaise, into GenUs's arms. . . .
The brave young Egalit*^ has a most wild morrow to
look for ; but now only himself to carry through it.'
The brave young Egalit^ had indeed a wUd time be
fore him. A wanderer, an exUe, a fugitive, a teacher
in Swiss and American schools ; bearing many and
various names as he turned to many caUings and
saw many lands, always perhaps keeping in mind that
Danton had laid his great hand upon his head and
declared that the boy must one day be King of
France. Then in the whirUgig of time the opportu
nity that long might have seemed impossible came
round at last ; and the soldier, exUe, coUege teacher,
wanderer among American-Indian tribes, resident of
PhUadelphia, and of Bloomingdale in the New York
suburbs, is King of the French. WeU had Carlyle
gauged his position after some years of reign when he
described him ' as struggling under sad circum
stances to be caUed Kmg of the French for a season.'
He ought to have been a great man ; he had had a
great traming. AU his promise as a man faded when
his seeming success began to shine. He had appa
rently learned nothing of adversity; he was able to
learn nothing of prosperity and greatness. Of aU
men whom his time had tried he ought best to
have known, one might thmk, the vanity of human
schemes, and the futUity of trying to uphold thrones
on false principles. He intrigued for power as if his
previous experience had taught him that power once
obtained was inaUenable. He seemed at one time to
have no real faith in anything but chicane. He made

1850. KING OF THE FRENCH. 69
the fairest professions and did the meanest, falsest
things. He talked to Queen Victoria in language
that might have brought tears into a father's eyes ;
and he was all the time planning the detestable
juggle of the Spanish marriages. He did not even
seem to retain the courage of his youth. It went
apparently with whatever of true, unselfish principle
he had when he was yet a young soldier of the Re
public. He was like our own James IL, who as a
youth extorted the praise of the great Turenne for his
bravery, and as a king earned the scorn of the world
for his pusUlanimous imbecUity. Some people say
that there remained a gleam of perverted principle in
Louis PhUippe which broke out just at the close, and
unluckUy for him exactly at the wrong time. It is
asserted that he could have put down the movement
of 1848 in the beginning with one decisive word.
Certainly those who began that movement were as
Uttle prepared as he for its turning out a revolution.
It is generaUy assumed that he halted and dalUed
and refused to give the word of command out of sheer
weakness of mind and lack of courage. But the as
sumption according to some is unjust. Their theory
is that Louis PhUippe at that moment of crisis was
seized with a conscientious scruple, and believed that
having been called to power by the choice of the
people — caUed to rule not as King of France, but as
King of the French ; as King, that is to say, of the
French people so long as they chose to have him —
he was not authorised to maintain himself on that
throne by force. The feeling would have been just

70 A IHSTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xix..
and right if it were certain that the French people,
or any majority of the Irench people, really wished.
him away, and were prepared to welcome a republic.
But it was hardly faU to those who set him on the
throne to assume at once that he was bound to come
down from it at the bidding of no matter whom, how
few or how many, and without Ui some way trying!
conclusions to see if it were the voice of France that
summoned him to descend, or only the outcry of a
moment and a crowd. The scruple, if it existed, lost
the throne; in which we are far from saying that
France suffered any great loss. We are bound to
say that M. Thiers, who ought to have known, does
not seem to have believed in the operation of any
scruple of the kind, and ascribes the KUig's fall simply-
to blundering and to bad advice. But it would have
been curiously Ulustrative of the odd contradictions
of human nature, and especially curious as illustrating
that one very odd and mixed nature, if Louis
PhUippe had really felt such a scruple and yielded to
it. He had carried out with full deliberation and
in spite of all remonstrance schemes which tore
asunder human lives, blighted human happiness,
played at dice with the destinies of whole nations and
might have mvolved all Europe in war, and it does
not seem that he ever felt one twinge of scruple or
acknowledged one pang of remorse. His policy had
been unutterably mean and selfish and deceitful. His
very bourgeois virtues, on which he was so much in-
cUned to boast himself, had been a sham ; for he had
carried out schemes which defied and flouted the first

1850. LOUIS PHILIPPE AND LORD PALMERSTON. 71
principles of human vUtue, and made as light of the
honour of woman as of the integrity of man. It
would humour the irony of fate if he had sacrificed
his crown to a scruple which a man of reaUy high
principle would weU have felt justified in banishing
from his mind. One is remUided of the daughter of
Macldin, the famous actor, who ha-ving made her suc
cess on the stage by appearing constantly in pieces
which compeUed the most liberal display of form and
limbs to aU the house and all the town, died of a
slight injury to her knee, which she allowed to grow
mortal rather than permit any doctor to look at the
suffering place. In Louis PhUippe's case, too, the
scruple would show so oddly that even the sacrifice
it entaUed could scarcely make us regard it with
respect. He died in exUe among us, the clever, unwise,
grand, mean old man. There was a great deal about
him which made him respected Ui private life and
when he had nothing to do with state intrigues and
the foreign poUcy of courts. He was much Uked in
England, where for many years after his sons lived.
But there were EngUshmen who did not like him
and did not readUy forgive him. One of these was
Lord Palmerston. Lord Palmerston wrote to his
brother a few days after the death of Louis PhUippe,
expressing his sentiments thereupon with the utmost
directness. ' The death of Louis PhUippe,' he said,
' deUvers me from my most artful and inveterate
enemy, whose position gave him in many ways the
power to injure me.' Louis PhUippe always detested

72 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xix.
Lord Palmerston, and, according to Thiers, was con
stantly saying witty and spiteful things of the
EngUsh Minister, which good-natured friends as
constantly brought to Palmerston's ears. When
Lord Palmerston did not feel exactly as a good
Christian ought to have felt, he at least never pre
tended to any such feeling. The same letter contains
immediately after a reference to Sir Robert Peel. It
too is characteristic. ' Though I am sorry for the
death of Peel from personal regard, and because it is
no doubt a great loss to the country, yet, so far as
my own poUtical position is concerned, I do not
think that he was ever disposed to do me any good
turn.' A little whUe before. Prince Albert, writing
to his friend Baron Stockmar, had spoken of Peel
as having somewhat unduly favoured Palmerston's
foreign poUcy in the great Pacifico debate, or at least
not having borne as severely as he might upon it,
and for a certainly not selfish reason. ' He ' (Peel)
' could not call the poUcy good, and yet he did not
wish to damage the Ministry, and this solely because
he considered that a Protectionist Ministry succeed
ing them would be dangerous to the country, and
had quite determined not to take office himself. But
would the fact that his health no longer admitted of
his doing so have been sufficient as time went on to
make his followers and friends bear with patient
resignation their own permanent exclusion from
office ? I doubt it.' The Prince might weU doubt
it : if Peel had lived it is all but certain that he would
have had to take office. It is " curious, however, to

1850. THE GAME OF POLITICS. 73
notice how completely Prince Albert and Lord Pal
merston are at odds in their way of estimating Peel's
political attitude before his death. Lord Palmerston's
quiet way of setting Peel down as one who would
never be disposed to do him a good turn is charac
teristic of the manner in which the Foreign Secretary
went in for the game of politics. Palmerston was
a man of kmdly instincts and genial temperament,
He was much loved by his friends. His feelings
were always dUecting him towards a certain half-
indolent benevolence. But the game of poUtics was
to him Uke the hunting field. One cannot stop to
help a friend out of a ditch or to lament over him if
he is down and seriously injured. For the hour the
only thing is to keep on one's way. In the political
game Lord Palmerston was playing, enemies were
only obstacles, and it would be absurd to pretend to
be sorry when they were out of his path. Therefore
there is no affectation of generous regret for Louis
PhUippe. PoUtical rivals, even if private friends, are
something lUce obstacles too. Palmerston is of opinion
that Peel would never be disposed to do him a good
turn, and therefore indulges in no sentimental regret
for his death. He is a loss to the country, no doubt,
and personaUy one is sorry for him, of course, and
all that : ' which done, God take King Edward to
his mercy, and leave the world for me to bustle in.'
The world certainly was more free henceforth for
Lord Palmerston's active and unresting spirit to
bustle in.

74 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xx.

CHAPTER XX.
THE ECCLESIASTICAL TITLES BILL.
The autumn of 1850 and the greater part of 1851
were disturbed by an agitation which seems strangely
out of keeping with our present condition of reUgious
liberty and civilisation. A struggle with the Papal
Court might appear to be a practical impossibUity for
the. England of our time. The mind has to go back
some centuries to put itself Uito what would appear
the proper framework for such events. Legislation
or even agitation against Papal aggression would
seem about as superfluous in our modern EngUsh
days as the use of any of the once-popular charms
which were beUeved to hinder witches of their wiU.
The story is extraordinary, and is in many ways
instructive. For some time previous to 1850 there had been,
as we have seen already, a certam movement among
some scholarly, mystical men in England towards
the Roman Church. We have already shown how
this movement began, and how little it could fairly
be said to represent any actual impulse of reaction
among the EngUsh people. But it unquestionably
made a profound impression Ui Rome. The court
of Rome then saw everything through the eyes

1850. ROME AND THE OXFORD MOVEMENT. 75
of ecclesiastics ; and a Roman Catholic ecclesiastic
not weU acquainted with the actual conditions of
English life might well be excused if, when he found
that two or three great Englishmen had gone over to
the Church, he fancied that they were but the van
guard of a vast popular or national movenient. It is
clear that the court of Rome was quite mistaken as
to the religious condition of England. The most
chimerical notions prevaUed in the Vatican. To the
eyes of Papal enthusiasm the whole English nation
was only waiting for some word in season to return
to the spiritual jurisdiction of Rome. The Pope had
not been fortunate in many things. He had been a
fugitive from his own city, and had been restored
only by the force of French arms. He was a tho
roughly good, pious and genial man, not seemg far
into the various ways of human thought and national
character; and to his mind there was nothing un
reasonable in the idea that heaven might have made
up for the domestic disasters of his reign by making
him the instrument of the conversion of England.
No better proof can be given of the manner in which
he and his advisers misunderstood the English people
than the step with which his sanguine zeal inspired
him. The English people, even while they yet bowed
to the spiritual supremacy of the Papacy, we^-e always
keenly jealous of any ecclesiastical attempt to control
the poUtical action or restrict the national indepen
dence of England. The history of the relations
between England and Rome for long generations
before England had any thought of renouncing the

76 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES, cn, xx.
faith of Rome might have furnished ample proof of
this to anyone who gave himself the trouble to turn
over a few pages of EngUsh chronicles. The Pope
did not read EngUsh, and his advisers did not under
stand England, Accordingly he took a step, with
the view of encouraging and inviting England to
become converted, which was calculated speciaUy
and instantly to defeat its own purpose. Had the
great majority of the English people been reaUy
dra-wUig towards the verge of a reaction to Rome,
such an act as that done by the Pope might have
startled them back to their old attitude. The assump
tion of Papal authority over England only fiUed the
English people with a new determination to repu
diate and resist every pretension at spiritual authority
on the part of the court of Rome.
The time has so completely passed away, and the
supposed pretensions have come to so Uttle, that the
most zealous Protestant can afford to discuss the whole
question now with absolute impartiaUty and unruffled
calmness. Everyone can clearly see now that if the
Pope was mistaken in the course he took, and if the
nation in general was amply justified in resenting
even a supposed attempt at foreign interference, the
piece of legislation to which the occasion gave birth
was not a masterpiece of statesmanship, nor was the
manner in which it was carried through always credit
able to the good sense of Parliament and the pubUc,
The papal aggression in itself was perhaps a measure
to smile at rather than to arouse great national indig
nation. It consisted in the issue of a papal buU,

1850. RE-ESTABLISHMENT OF THE HtERARCIIY. 77
' given at St. Peter's, Rome, under the seal of the
fisherman,' and directing the establishment Ui Eng
land ' of a hierarchy of bishops deriving their titles
from their own sees, which we constitute by the pre
sent letter in the various apostoUc districts.' It is a
curious evidence of the little knowledge of England's
condition possessed by the Court of Rome then, that
although five-sixths at least of the Catholics in Eng
land were Irish by birth or extraction, the newly-
appointed bishops were all, or nearly all. Englishmen
unconnected with Ireland.
An Englishman of the present day would be
probably inclined to ask, on hearing the effect of the
buU, Is that aU? Being told that that was all, he
would probably have gone on to ask, What does it
matter ? Who cares whether the Pope gives new
titles to his English ecclesiastics or not ? What
Protestant is even interested in knowmg whether a
certain Catholic bishop Uving in England is called
Bishop of Mesopotamia, or of Lambeth ? There always
were Catholic bishops in England. There were Ca
thoUc archbishops. They were free to go and come,
to preach and teach as they liked ; to dress as they
lU5;ed ; for aU that nineteen out of every twenty Eng
lishmen cared, they might have been also free to call
themselves what they liked. Any Protestant who
mixed with Roman Catholics, or knew anything about
their usages, knew that they were in the habit of call
ing their bishops 'my lord,' and their archbishops
' your grace.' He knew of course that they had not
the slightest legal right to use such high-sounding

78 A IHSTORY OF OUR OWN TBIES. ch. xx.
titles, but this did not trouble him in the least. It
was only a ceremonial intended for CathoUcs, and it
did not give him either offence or concern. Why
then should he be expected to disturb his mind because
the Pope chose to direct that the English Roman
Catholics should caU a man Bishop of Liverpool or
Archbishop of Westminster? The Pope could not
compel him to caU them by any such names if he
did not think fit ; and unless his attention had been
very earnestly drawn to the fact, he never probably
would have found out that any new titles had been
invented for the Catholic hierarchy Ui England.
This was the way Ui which a great many EngUsh
men regarded the matter even then. But it must be
owned that there was something about the time and
manner of the papal bull calculated to offend the sus-
ceptibiUty of a great and independent nation. The
mere fact that a certain movement towards Rome had
been painfully visible in the ranks of the EngUsh
Church itself, was enough to make people sensitive
and jealous. The plain sense of many thoroughly
impartial and cool-headed Englishmen showed them
that the two things were connected in the mind of the
Pope, and that he had issued his buU because he
thought the time was actuaUy coming when he might
begin to take measures for the spiritual annexation of
England. His pretensions might be of no account in
themselves; but the fact that he made them in the
evident beUef that they were justified by reaUties,
produced a jarring and painful effect on the mind of
England. The offence lay in the Pope's evident as-

1850. CARDINAL WISEMAN. 79
sumption that the change he was making was the
natural result of an actual change in the national feel
ing of England. The anger was not against the
giving of the new titles, but against the assu^mption
of a new right to give titles representing territorial
distinctions in this country. The agitation that sprang
up was fiercely heated by the pastoral letter of the
chief of the new hierarchy. The Pope had divided
England into various dioceses, which he placed under
the control of an archbishop and twelve suffragans;
and the new archbishop was Cardinal Wiseman.
Under the title of Archbishop of Westminster and
Administrator ApostoUc of the Diocese of Southwark,
Cardinal Wiseman was now to reside in London.
Cardinal Wiseman was already weU known m Eng
land. He was of EngUsh descent on his father's side
and of Irish on his mother's ; he was a Spaniard by
birth and a Roman by education. His family on both
sides was of good position ; his father came of a long
line of Essex gentry. Wiseman had held the pro
fessorship of Oriental languages in the English College
at Rome, and afterwards became rector of the coUege.
In 1840 he was appointed by the Pope one of the
Vicars Apostolic in England, and held his position
here as Bishop of Melipotamus in partibus injidelium.
He was weU known to be a fine scholar, an accom-
pUshed linguist, and a powerful preacher and contro
versialist. But he was believed also to be a man of
great ecclesiastical ambition — ambition for his church,
that is to say — of singular boldness, and of much poU
tical abiUty. The Pope's action was set down as in

80 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xx.
great measure the work of Wiseman. The Cardinal
himself was accepted in the minds of most English
men as a type of the regular Italian ecclesiastic — bold,
clever, ambitious and unscrupulous. The very fact
of his English extraction only mUitated the more
against him in the public feeling. He was regarded
as m some sense one who had gone over to the enemy,
and who was the more to be dreaded because of the
knowledge he carried with him. Perhaps it is not
too much to say that in the existing mood of the
EngUsh people the very title of Cardinal exasperated
the feeling against Wiseman. Had he come as a
simple archbishop, the aggression might not have
seemed so marked. The title of cardinal brought
back unwelcome memories to the EngUsh pubUc.
It reminded them of a period of their history when
the forces of Rome and those of the national inde
pendence were really arrayed against each other in a
struggle which EngUshmen might justly look on as
dangerous. Since those times there had been no
cardinal in England. Did it not look ominous that
a cardinal should present himself now? The first
step taken by Cardinal Wiseman did not tend to
charm away this feeling. He issued a pastoral letter,
addressed to England, on October 7, 1850, which was
set forth as 'given out of the Flaminian Gate of
Rome.' This description of the letter was afterwards
stated to be in accordance with one of the necessary
formularies of the Church of Rome ; but it was then
assumed in England to be an expression of insolence
and audacity intended to remind the English people

1850. 'OUT OF TIIE FLA1MINL4.N GATE.' 81
that from out of Rome itself came the assertion of
supremacy over them. This letter was to be read
pubUcly in aU the Roman Catholic churches in Lon
don. It addressed itself dUectly to the English people,
and it announced that ' your beloved country has
received a place among the fair churches which nor-
maUy constituted form the splendid aggregate of Ca
tholic communion; Catholic England has been restored
to its orbit in the ecclesiastical firmament from which
its light had long vanished; and begins now anew its
course of regularly-adjusted action round the centre
of unity, the source of jurisdiction, of light, and of
vigour.' It must be allowed that this was rather impru
dent language to address to a people peculiarly proud
of being Protestant ; a people of whom their critics
say not whoUy without reason that they are some
what narrow and unsympathetic in their Protestant
ism; that their national tendency is to believe in
the existence of nothing reaUy good outside the limits
of Protestantism. In England the National Church
is a symbol of victory over foreign enemies and domi
nation at home. It was not Ukely that the EngUsh
people could regard it as anything but an offence to
be told that they were resuming their place as a
part of an ecclesiastical system to which they, of aU
peoples, looked with disUke and distrust. We are not
saying that the feeling with which the great bulk
of the EngUsh people regarded Cardinal Wiseman's
church was just or Uberal. We are simply recording
the unquestionable historical fact that such was the
VOL. II. G

82 A IHSTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xx.
manner in which the English people regarded the
Roman church, in order to show how slender was the
probabUity of their bemg moved to anything but
anger by such expressions as those contained in Car
dinal "Wiseman's letter. But the letter had hardly
reached England when the country was aroused by
another letter coming from a very different quarter,
and intended as a counterblast to the papal assump
tion of authority. This was Lord John RusseU's
famous Durham letter. RusseU had the art of writ
ing letters that exploded like bomb-sheUs in the
midst of some controversy. His Edinburgh letter
had set the Cabinet of Sir Robert Peel on to recognise
the fact that something must be done with the Free
Trade question ; and now his Durham letter spoke
the word that let loose a very torrent of EngUsh
pubUc feeUng. The letter was in reply to one from the
Bishop of Durham, and was dated ' Downing Street,
November the 4th.' Lord John RusseU condemned
in the most unmeasured terms the assumption of the
Pope as ' a pretension of supremacy over the realm
of England, and a claim to sole and undivided sway,
which is inconsistent with the Queen's supremacy,
with the rights of our bishops and clergy, and with
the spiritual independence of the nation as asserted
even in the Roman CathoUc times.' Lord John Russell
went on to say that his alarm was by no means equal
to his indignation ; that the Uberty of Protestantism
had been enjoyed too long in England to allow of
any successful attempt to impose a foreign yoke upon
men's minds and consciences, and that the laws of

1850. THE DURHAM LETTER. 83
the country should be carefuUy examined, and the
propriety of adopting some additional measures de-
Uberately considered. But Lord John RusseU went
further than all this. He declared that there was a
danger that alarmed him more than any aggression
from a foreign sovereign, and that was ' the danger
within the gates from the unworthy sons of the Church
of England herself.' Clergymen of that Church, he
declared, had been ' leading their flocks step by step
to the verge of the precipice.' What, he asked, meant
'the honour paid to saints, the claim of infaUibUity
for the Church, the superstitious use of the sign of
the Cross, the muttering of the Litm-gy so as to
disguise the language in which it is written, the
recommendation of auricular confession, and the ad
ministration of penance and absolution ? ' The letter
closed with a sentence which gave especial offence to
Roman CathoUcs, but which Lord John RusseU
afterwards explained, and indeed the context ought
to have shown, was not meant as any attack on
their reUgion or their ceremonial. ' I have Uttle hope
that the propounders and framers of these innova
tions wiU desist fi'om their insidious course; but I
rely with confidence on the people of England ; and
I wUl not bate one jot of heart or hope so long as the
glorious principles and the immortal martyrs of the
Reformation shaU be held in reverence by the great
mass of a nation which looks with contempt on the
mummeries of superstition and with scorn at the
laborious endeavours which are now making to con
fine the inteUect and enslave the soul.' It is now
g2

84 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn, xx.
clear from the very terms of this letter that Lord John
RusseU meant to apply these words to the practices
within the EngUsh Church which he had so strongly
condemned in the earlier passages, and which alone,
he said, he regarded with any serious alarm. But the
Roman CathoUcs in general and the majority of per
sons of aU sects accepted them as a denunciation of
' Popery.' The Catholics looked upon them as a
declaration of war against Catholicism ; the fanatical
of the other side welcomed them as a trumpet-call to
a new ' No Popery ' agitation.
The very day after the letter appeared was the
Guy Faux anniversary. AU over the country the
effigies of the Pope and Cardinal Wiseman took the
place of the regulation ' Guy,' and were paraded and
burnt amid tumultuous demonstrations. A colossal
procession of ' Guys ' passed do-wn Fleet Street, the
principal figure of which, a gigantic form of sixteen
feet high, seated in a chariot, had to be bent down,
compeUed to ' veil his crest,' in order to pass under
Temple Bar. This Titanic ' Guy ' was the new
cardinal in his red robes. In Exeter a yet more
elaborate Anti-Papal demonstration was made. A
procession of two hundred persons in character-
dresses marched round the venerable cathedral amid
the varied effulgence of coloured lights. The proces
sion represented the Pope, the new cardinal, and the
Inquisition, various of the Inquisitors brandishing
instruments of torture. Considerable sums of money
were spent on these popular demonstrations, the only
interest in which now is that they serve to Ulustrate

1850. MR. DISRAELIS LETTER. 85
the public sentiment of the hour. ]\Ir. Disraeli
good-naturedly endeavoured at once to foment the
prevaUing heat of public temper and at the same time
to direct its fervour against the Ministry themselves,
by declaring Ui a published letter that he could
hardly blame the Pope for supposing himself at
Uberty to divide England into bishoprics, seeing the
encouragement he had got from the ministers them
selves by the recognition they had offered to the
Roman Catholic hierarchy of Ireland, ' The fact is,'
Mr. DisraeU said, ' the whole question has been sur
rendered and decided in favour of the Pope by the
present Government. The mUiisters who recognised
the pseudo-Archbishop of Tuam as a peer and a pre
late cannot object to the appointment of a pseudo-
Archbishop of Westminster, even though he be a
cardinal.' As a matter of fact it was not the existing
Government that had recognised the rank of the Irish
Catholic prelates. The recognition had been formally
arranged in January 1845 by a royal warrant or
commission for carrying out the Charitable Bequests
Act, which gave the Irish Catholic prelates rank
immediately after the prelates of the Established
Church of the same degree. But the letter of Mr.
DisraeU, lUie that of Lord John Russell, served to
inflame passions on both sides and to put the country
in the worst possible mood for any manner of whole
some legislation. Never durmg the same generation
had there been such an outburst of anger on both
sides of the religious controversy. It was a curious
incident in poUtical history that Lord John Russell,

86 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. ch. xx.
who had more than any EngUshman then Uving been
identified with the principles of reUgious Uberty, who
had sat at the feet of Fox, and had for his closest
friend the Catholic poet Thomas Moore, came to be
regarded by Roman Catholics as the bitterest enemy
of their creed and their rights of worship.
The Mmistry felt that something must be done.
They could not face Parliament without some piece
of legislation to satisfy pubUc feeling. Many even
among the most zealous Protestants deeply regretted
that Lord John RusseU had written anything on the
subject. Not a few Roman Catholics of position and
influence bitterly lamented the indiscretion of the
Papal court. The mischief, however, was now fairly
afoot. The step taken by the Pope had set the
country aflame. Every day crowded and tumultuous
meetings were held to denounce the action of the
court of Rome. Before the end of the year some
thing like seven thousand such meetings had been
held throughout the kingdom. Sometimes the Ro
man Catholic party mustered strong at such demon
strations, and the result was rioting and disturbance.
Addresses poured in upon the Queen and the minis
ters calUng for decided action against the assumption
of Papal authority. About the same time Father
Gavazzi, an Italian republican who had been a priest,
came to London and began a series of lectures against
the Papacy. He was a man of great rhetorical power,
with a remarkable command of the eloquence of pas
sion and denunciation. His lectures were at first
given only in Italian, and therefore did not appeal to

1851. PUBLIC FEELING. 87
a popular English audience. But they were reported
Ui the papers at miich length, and they contributed
not a little to swell the tide of pubUc feeling against
the Pope and the court of Rome. The new Lord
ChanceUor, Lord Truro, created great applause and
tumult at the Lord Mayor's dinner by quoting from
Shakespeare the words, ' Under my feet I'U stamp thy
cardinal's hat, in spite of Pope or dignities^of Church.'
Charles Kean, the tragedian, was interrupted by
thundering peals of applause and the rising of the
whole audience to their feet when, as King John, he
proclaimed that ' no ItaUan priest shall tithe or toU
in our dominion.' Long afterwards, and when the
storm seemed to have wholly died away. Cardinal
Wiseman, going in a carriage through the streets of
Liverpool to deUver a lecture on a purely Uterary
subject to a general audience, was pelted with stones
by a mob who remembered the Papal assumption and
the passions excited by the Ecclesiastical Titles Act.
The opening of Parliament came. The Ministry
had to do something. No Ministry that ever held
power Ui England could have attempted to meet the
House of Commons without some project of a measure
to aUay public excitement. On February 4, 1851,
the Queen in person opened Parliament, Her speech
contained some sentences which were listened to with
the profoundest interest because they referred to the
question which was agitating aU England, ' The
recent assumption of certain ecclesiastical titles con
ferred by a foreign Power has excited strong feelings
in this country; and large bodies of my subjects

88 A HISTORY OP OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xx.
have presented addresses to me expressing attach
ment to the throne and praying that such assump
tions should be resisted. I have assured them of my
resolution to maintain the rights of my crown and
the independence of the nation against aU encroach
ments, from whatever quarter they may proceed. I
have at the same time expressed my earnest desire
and firm determination, under God's blessing, to
maintain unimpaired the religious Uberty which is so
justly prized by the people of this country,' How
Uttle of inclination to any measures dealing unfairly
¦with Roman Catholics was in the mind of the Queen
herself may be seen from a letter in which, when the
excitement was at its height, she had expressed
her opinion to her aunt, the Duchess of Gloucester,
' I would never have consented to anything which
breathed a spirit of intolerance, SUicerely Pro
testant as I always have been, and always shall be,
and indignant as I am at those who caU themselves
Protestants whUe they are in fact quite the contrary,
I much regret the unchristian and intolerant spirit
exhibited by many people at the public meetings, I
cannot bear to hear the violent abuse of the Catholic
religion, which is so painful and so cruel towards the
many good and innocent Roman CathoUcs. How
ever, we must hope and trust this excitement wUl
soon cease, and that the wholesome effect of it upon
our own Church wUl be lasting.'
' The Papal aggression question,' Lord Palmerston
wrote to his brother just before the opening of Parlia
ment ' wUl give us some trouble, and give rise to

1851. THE GOVERNMENT'S DIFFICULTY. 89
stormy debates. Our difficulty will be to find out
a measure which shaU satisfy reasonable Protestants
without violating those principles of liberal toleration
which we are pledged to, I think we shall succeed,
. . . The thing itself, in truth, is little or nothing,
and does not justify the irritation. What has goaded
the nation is the manner, insolent and ostentatious,
in which it has been done. . . . We must bring in a
measure. The country would not be satisfied with
out some legislative enactment. We shall make it
as gentle as possible. The violent party wUl object
to it for its mUdness, and will endeavour to drive us
farther.' A measure brought in only because some
thing must be done to satisfy public opinion is not
likely to be a very valuable piece of legislation. The
Ministry in this case were embarrassed by the fact
that they really did not particularly want to do any
thing except to satisfy public opinion for the moment
and get rid of all the controversy. They were placed
between two galling fires. On the one side were the
extreme Protestants, to whom Palmerston alluded
as violent, and who were eager for severe measures
against the Catholics ; and on the other were the
Roman Catholic supporters of the Ministry, who
protested against any legislation whatever on the
subject. It would have been simply impossible to
find any safe and satisfactory path of compromise
which all could consent to walk. The Ministry did
the best they could to frame a measure which should
seem to do something and yet do little or nothing.
Two or three days after the meeting of ParUament

90 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. ch. xx.
Lord John RusseU introduced his bUl to prevent the
assumption by Roman CathoUcs of titles taken from
any territory or place within the United Kingdom.
The measure proposed to prohibit the u.se of aU such
titles under penalty, and to render void aU acts done
by or bequests made to persons under such titles.
The Roman CathoUc ReUef Act imposed a penalty of
one hundred pounds for every assumption of a title
taken from an existing see. Lord John RusseU
proposed now to extend the penalty to the assump
tion of any title whatever from any place in the
United Kingdom, The reception which was given
to Lord John RusseU's motion for leave to bring in
this bUl was not encouraging. Usually leave to bring
in a bUl is granted as a matter of course. Some few
general observations of extemporaneous and guarded
criticism are often made ; but the common practice is
to offer no opposition. On this occasion, however,
it was at once made manifest that no measure, how
ever ' gentle,' to use Lord Palmerston's word, would
be allowed to pass without obstinate opposition. Mr.
Roebuck described the bUl as ' one of the meanest,
pettiest, and most futile measures that ever disgraced
even bigotry itself.' Mr. Bright caUed it 'Uttle,
paltry, and miserable— a mere sham to bolster up
Church ascendancy.' Mr. DisraeU declared that he
would not oppose the introduction of the bUl ; but he
spoke of it in language of as much contempt as Mr.
Roebuck and Mr. Bright had used, calUng it a mere
piece of petty persecution. 'Was it for this,' Mr.
DisraeU scornfully asked, ' that the Lord ChanceUor

1851. LORD JOHN RUSSELL'S BILL. 91
trampled on a cardinal's hat amid the patriotic accla
mations of the metropolitan municipality ? ' Sir
Robert Inglis, on the part of the more extreme Pro
testants, objected to the biU on the ground that it
did not go far enough. The debate on the motion
for leave to bring in the bUl was renewed for night
after night, and the fuUest promise of an angry and
prolonged resistance was given. Yet so strong was
the feeUng in favour of some legislation, that when
the division was taken, three hundred and ninety-five
votes were given for the motion, and only sixty -three
against it. The opponents of the measure had on
their side not only all the prominent champions of
reUgious liberty Uke Sir James Graham, Mr. Glad
stone, Mr. Cobden, and Mr. Bright; but also Pro
testant politicians of such devotion to the interests of
the Church as Mr. RoundeU Palmer, afterwards Lord
Selbome, and Mr. Beresford Hope; and of course
they had with them all the Irish CathoUc members.
Yet the motion for leave to bring in the bUl was
carried by this overwhelming majority. The minis
ters had at all events ample justification, so far as
ParUamentary tactics were concerned, for the intro
duction of their measure.
If, however, we come to regard the ministerial
proposal as a piece of practical legislation, the case to
be made out for them is not strong, nor is the abor
tive result of their efforts at all surprising. They set
out on the enterprise without any real interest in it,
or any particular confidence in its success. It is
probable that Lord John RusseU alone of aU the

92 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. ch. xx.
ministers had any expectation cf a satisfactory result
to come of the piece of legislation they were attempt
ing. ^Ye have seen what Lord Palmerston thought
on the whole subject. The ministers were, in fact,
in the difficulty of aU statesmen who bring in a
measure, not because they themselves are clear as
to its necessity or its efficacy, but because they find
that something must be done to satisfy public feeling,
and they do not know of anything better to do at the
moment. The history of the Ecclesiastical Titles
BUl was, therefore, a history of blunder, unlucky
accident, and faUure from the moment it was brought
in untU its ignominious and ridiculous repeal many
years after, and when its absolute impotence had been
not merely demonstrated but forgotten.
The Government at first, as we have seen, resolved
to impose a penalty on the assumption of ecclesias
tical titles by Roman CathoUc prelates from places in
the United Kingdom, and to make null and void all
acts done or bequests made in virtue of such titles.
But they found that it would be absolutely impos
sible to apply such legislation to Ireland. In that
country a Catholic hierarchy had long been tolerated,
and aU the functions of a regular hierarchy had been
in fuU and formal operation. To apply the new
measure to Ireland would have been virtuaUy to
repeal the Roman CathoUc Relief Act and restore
the penal laws. On the other hand, the ministers
were not wUling to make one law against titles for
England and another for Ireland. They were driven,
therefore, to the course of withdrawing two of the

1851. THE OPPOSITION TO TIIE MEASURE. 93
stringent clauses of the bUl, and leaving it little more
than a mere declaration against the assumption of
unlawful titles. But by doing this they furnished
stronger reasons for opposition to both of the two
very different parties who had hitherto denounced
their way of dealing with the crisis. Those who
thought the bUl did not go far enough before were of
course indignant at the proposal to shear it of what
ever Uttle force it had originally possessed. They,
on the other hand, who had opposed it as a breach of
the principle of religious Uberty could now ridicule
it with aU the greater effect on the ground that it
violated a principle without even the pretext of doing
any practical good as a compensation. In the first
instance the Ministry might plead that the crisis was
exceptional ; that it caUed for exceptional measures ;
that something must be done; and that they could
not stand on ceremony even with the principle of
reUgious Uberty when the interest of the State was at
stake. Now they left it in the power of their oppo
nents to say that they were breaking a principle for
the sake of introducing a nonentity.
The debates were long, fierce, and often passionate.
The bUl, even cut down as it was, had a vast majority
on its side. But some of the most iUustrious names
in the House of Commons were recorded against it ;
by far the most eloquent voices in the House were
raised to condemn it. The Irish Roman CathoUc
members set up a persistent opposition to it, and up
to a certain period of its progress put in requisition
aU the forms of the House to impede it. This part of

94 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. ch. xx.
the story ought not to be passed over without men
tion of the fact that among other effects produced by
the Ecclesiastical Titles BUl, perhaps the most distinct
was the creation of the most worthless band of agita
tors who ever pretended to speak with the voice of
Ireland, These were the men who were caUed in the
House ' the Pope's Brass Band,' and who were re
garded with as much dislike and distrust by aU intel-
Ugent Irish Catholics and Irish NationaUsts as by the
most inveterate Tories, These men leaped into influ
ence by their denunciations of the Ecclesiastical Titles
BiU, They were successful for a time in paUning
themselves off as patriots upon Irish constituencies.
They thundered against the bUl ; they put in motion
every mechanism of delay and obstruction ; some of
them were reaUy clever and eloquent ; most of them
were loud-voiced ; they had a grand and heaven-sent
opportunity given to them, and they made use of it.
They had a leader, the once famous John Sadleir.
This man possessed marked abUity, and was further
gifted with an unscrupulous audacity at least equal
to his abUity. He went to work deUberately to create
for himself a band of followers by whose help he
might mount to power. He was a financial swindler
as weU as a political adventurer. By means of the
money he had suddenly acquired and by virtue of his
furious denunciations of the anti-Catholic policy of
the Government, he was for a time able to work the
Irish popular constituencies so as to get his own fol
lowers into the House and become for the hour a sort
of Uttle O'ConneU, He had with him some two or

1851. THE 'BRASS BAND.' 95
three honest men, whom he deluded into a belief in
the sincerity of himself and his gang of swindling
adventurers ; and it is only fair to say that by far the
most eloquent man of the party appears to have been
one of those on whom Sadleir was thus able to im
pose. Mr. SadleU's band afterwards came to sad
grief. He committed suicide himself to escr.pe the
punishment of his frauds ; some of his associates
fled to foreign countries and hid themselves under
feigned names. James Sadleir, brother and accom-
pUce of John, was among these, and underwent that
rare mark of degradation in our days, a formal expul
sion from the House of Commons. The Pope's Brass
Band and its subsequent history, culminating in the
suicide on Hampstead Heath, was about the only
practical result of the Ecclesiastical Titles Bill.
The biU, reduced in stringency as has been de
scribed, made, however, some progress through the
House. It was interrupted at one stage by events
which had nothing to do with its history. The Go
vernment got into trouble of another kind. At the
opening of the session Mr. Disraeli introduced a
motion to the effect that the agricultural distress of
the country called upon the Government to introduce
without delay some measures for its reUef TI is
motion was in fact the last spasmodic cry of Protec
tion. Many influential poUticians still believed that
the cause of Protection was not whoUy lost ; that a
reaction was possible ; that the Free Trade doctrine
would prove a faUure and have to be given up ; and
they regarded Mr, DisraeU's as a very important

96 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TBIES. cn. xx.
motion calling for a strenuous effort in its favour.
The Government treated the motion as one for re
stored Protection, and threw all their strength into the
struggle against it. They won; but only by a majo
rity of fourteen. A few days after, Mr. Locke King,
member for East Surrey, asked for leave to bring in a
bUl to assimilate the county franchise to that exist
ing Ui boroughs. Lord John RusseU opposed the
motion, and the Government were defeated by 100
votes agauist 52. It was evident that this was only
what is caUed a ' snap ' vote; that the House was taken
by surprise, and that the result in no wise represented
the general feeUng of ParUament. But stiU it was
a vexatious occurrence for the Ministry already humi-
Uated by the smaU majority they had obtained on
DisraeU's motion. Their budget had already been
received with very general marks of dissatisfaction.
The ChanceUor of the Exchequer only proposed a
partial and quaUfied repeal of the window tax, an
impost which was justly detested, and he continued
the income tax. The budget was introduced shortly
before Mr. Locke King's motion, and every day that
had elapsed since its introduction only more and more
developed the public dissatisfaction with which it was
regarded. Under aU these circumstances Lord John
RusseU felt that he had no alternative but to tender
his resignation to the Queen, Leaving his Ecclesi
astical Titles BUl suspended in air, he announced that
he could no longer think of carrying on the govem
ment of the country.
The question was who should succeed him. The

1851, EFFORTS TO FORM A MNISTRY, 97
Queen sent for Lord Stanley, afterwards Lord Derby.
Lord Stanley offered to do his best to form a Govern
ment, but was not at aU sanguine about the success of
the task nor eager to undertake it. He even recom
mended that before he made any experiment Lord John
RusseU should try i£ he could not do something by get
ting some of the Peelites, as they were then beginning
to be caUed — the foUowers of Sir Robert Peel who
had held with him to the last — to join him and thus
patch up the Government anew. This was tried, and
faUed. The Peelites would have nothing to do with
the Ecclesiastical Titles BUl, and Lord John Russell
would not go on without it. On the other hand. Lord
Aberdeen, the chief of the PeeUtes in the House of
Lords, would not attempt to form a Mmistry of his
own, franldy acknowledging that in the existing temper
of the country it would be impossible for any Govern
ment to get on without legislating in some way on the
Papal aggression. There was nothing for it but for
Lord Stanley to try. He tried without hope, and of
course he was unsuccessful. The position of parties
was very peculiar. It was impossible to form any
combination which could reaUy agree upon anything.
There were three parties out of which a Ministry
might be formed. These were the Whigs, the Con
servatives, and the PeeUtes. The Peelites were a very
rising and promising body of men. Among them
were Sir James Graham, Lord Canning, Mr. Glad
stone, Mr. Sidney Herbert, Mr. CardweU, and some
others almost equally weU known. Only these three
groups were fairly in the competition for office ; for
vol', n. H

98 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xx.
the idea of a Ministry of Radicals and Manchester men
was not then likely to present itself to any official
mind. But how could anyone put together a Ministry
formed from a combmation of these three? The Peel
ites would not coalesce with the Tories because of the
Protection question, to which Mr. Disraeli's motion
had given a new semblance of vitality, and because,of
Lord Stanley's own declaration that he stiU regarded
the policy of Free Trade as only an experiment. The
Peelites would not combine with the Whigs because
of the Ecclesiastical Titles BUl. The Conservatives
would not disavow protective ideas; the Whigs would
not give up the Ecclesiastical Titles BUl. No statesman,
therefore, could form a Government without having
to count on two great parties being against him on
one question or the other. All manner of delays took
place. The Duke of WelUngton was consulted. Lord
Lansdowne was consulted. The wit of man could
suggest nothing satisfactory. The conditions for ex
tracting any satisfactory solution did not exist. There
was nothing better to be done than to ask the min
isters who had resigned to resume their places and
muddle on as they best could. It is not enough to
say that there was nothing better to be done : there
was nothing else to be done. They were at all events
stUl administering the affairs of the country, and no
one would reUeve them of the task. Ipso facto they
had to stay.
The ministers returned to their places and resumed
the Ecclesiastical Titles BUl. It was then that they
made the change m its conditions which has already

1851. MINISTERIAL DEFEATS. 99
been mentioned, and thus created new argument against
them on both sides of the House of Commons. They
struck out of the biU every word that might appear
like an encroachment on the Roman Church within
the sphere of its own ecclesiastical operations, and
made it simply an Act against the pubUc and osten
tatious assumption of iUegal titles. The bUl was
wrangled over untU the end of June, and then a large
number, some seventy, of the Irish Catholic members
pubUcly seceded from the discussion and announced
that they would take no further part in the divisions.
On this some of the strongest opponents of the Papal
aggression, led by Sir Frederick Thesiger, afterwards
Lord Chelmsford, brought in a series of resolutions
intended to make the bUl more stringent than it had
been even as originaUy mtroduced. The object of the
resolutions was principaUy to give the power of pro
secuting and claiming a penalty to anybody, provided
he obtained the consent of the law officers of the
Crown, and to make penal the introduction of buUs.
The Government opposed the introduction of these
amendments, and were put in the awkward position
of having to act as antagonists of the party in the
country who represented the strongest hostUity to the
Papal aggression. Thus for the moment the author
of the Durham letter was seemingly converted into a
champion of the Roman Catholic side of the contro
versy. His championship was ineffective. The Irish
members took no part in the controversy, and the
Government were beaten by the ultra- Protestant party
on every division. Lord John RusseU was bitterly
n2

100 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. ch. xx.
taunted by various of his opponents, and was asked
with mdignation why he did not withdraw the biU
when it ceased to be any longer his own scheme. He
probably thought by this time that it really made
Uttle matter what bill was passed so long as any bUl
was passed, and that the best thing to do was to get
the controversy out of the way by any process. He
did not therefore withdraw the bUl, although Sir
Frederick Thesiger carried all his stringent clauses.
When the measure came on for a third reading. Lord
John Russell moved the omission of the added clauses,
but he was defeated by large majorities. The bUl
was clone with so far as the House of Commons was
concerned. After an eloquent and powerful protest
from Mr. Gladstone against the measure, as one dis
paraging to the great principle of reUgious freedom,
the bUl was read a third time. It went up to the
House of Lords, was passed there without alteration
although not without opposition, and soon after re
ceived the Royal assent.
This was practically the last the world heard
about it. In the Roman Church everything went on
as before. The new Cardinal Archbishop stUl called
himself Archbishop of Westminster ; some of the Irish
prelates made a point of ostentatiously using their
territorial titles, in letters addressed to the ministers
themselves. The bitterness of feeling which the
Papal aggression and the legislation against it had
called up did not indeed pass away very soon. It
broke out again and again, sometimes in the form of
very serious riot. It turned away at many an elec-

1851. * SIGNIFYING NOTIHNa.' lOl
tion the eyes and minds of the constituencies from
questions of profound and genuine public interest to
dogmatic controversy and the hates of jarring sec
taries. It furnished political capital for John Sadleir
and his band, and kept them flourishing for a while ;
and it set up in the Irish popular mind a purely ima
ginary figure of Lord John RusseU, who became re
garded as the malign enemy of the Catholic faith and
of aU religious Uberty. But save for the quarrels
aroused at the time, the act of the Pope and the Act of
Parliament were alike dead letters. Nothing came of
the Papal buU. England was not restored to the
communion of the Roman CathoUc Church. The
Archbishop of Canterbury and the Bishop of London
retained theU places and their spiritual jurisdiction
as before. Cardinal Wiseman remained only a prelate
of Roman Catholics. On the other hand, the Eccle
siastical Titles Act was never put in force. Nobody
troubled about it. Many years after, in 1871, it was
quietly repealed. It died in such obscurity that the
outer pubUc hardly knew whether it was above
ground or below. Certainly, if the whole agitation
showed that England was thoroughly Protestant, it
also showed that English Protestants had not much
of the persecuting spirit. They had no inclination to
molest their CathoUc neighbours, and only asked to
be let alone. The Pope, they beUeved, had insulted
them ; they resented the insult : that was aU,

102 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xxr.

CHAPTER XXL
THE EXHIBITION IN HYDE PARK.
The first of May, 1851, wUl always be memorable as
the day on which the Great Exhibition was opened
in Hyde Park. The year 1851, indeed, is generaUy
associated in the memory of EngUshmen with that
first Great International Exhibition. As we look
back upon it pleasant recoUections come up of the
great glass palace in Hyde Park, the palace ' upspring-
ing from the verdant sod,' which Thackeray described
so gracefuUy and -with so much poetic feeling. The
strange crowds of the curious of aU provinces and all
nations are seen again. The marveUous, and at that
time wholly unprecedented, coUection of the pro
ducts of aU countries ; the glitter of the Koh-i-Noor,
the palm trees beneath the glass roof, the leaping
fountains, the statuary, the ores, the ingots, the huge
blocks of coal, the lace-work, the loom-work, the
Oriental stuffs — aU these made on the mind of the
ordinary inexpert a confused impression of lavishness
and profusion and order and fantastic beauty which
was then whoUy novel, and could hardly be recaUed
except in mere memory. The novelty of the experi
ment was that which made it speciaUy memorable.
Many exhibitions of a simUar kind have taken place

1851. THE HOPES OF THE EXIHBITION. 103
since. Some of these far surpassed that of Hyde
Park in the splendour and variety of the coUections
brought together. Two of them atleast — those of Paris
in 1867 and 1878 — were infinitely superior in the
array and display of the products, the dresses, the in
habitants of far-divided countries. But the impres
sion which the Hyde Park Exhibition made upon the
ordinary mind was like that of the boy's first visit to
the play — an impression never to be equaUed, no
matter by what far superior charm of spectacle it
may in after years again and again be foUowed.
Golden indeed were the expectations with which
hopeful people welcomed the Exhibition of 1851. It
was the first organised to gather aU the representatives
of the world's industry into one great fair ; and there
were those who seriously expected that men who
had once been prevaUed upon to meet together in
friendly and peaceful rivalry would never again be
persuaded to meet in rivalry of a fiercer kind. It
seems extraordinary now to think that any sane per
son can have indulged in such expectations, or can have
imagined that the tremendous forces generated by the
rival interests, ambitions, and passions of races could
be subdued into harmonious co-operation by the good
sense and good feeUng bom of a friendly meeting.
The Hyde Park Exhibition and aU the exhibitions
that foUowed it have not as yet made the sUghtest
perceptible difference in the warlike tendencies of
nations. The Hyde Park Exhibition was ofter^
described as the festival to open the long reign of
Peace. It might ;as a mere matter of chronology ba

104 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xxi.
caUed without any impropriety the festival to cele
brate the close of the short reign of Peace. From
that year, 1851, it may be said fairly enough that the
world has hardly known a week of peace. The coup
d'etat in France closed the year. The Crimean War
began almost immediately after, and was foUowed by
the Indian Mutiny, and that by the war between
France and Austria, the long civU war in the. United
States, the NeapoUtan enterprises of Garibaldi, and
the Mexican intervention, untU we come to the war
between Austria, Prussia, and Denmark ; the short
sharp struggle for German supremacy between Austria
and Prussia, the war between France and Germany,
and the war between Russia and Turkey, Such were,
in brief summary, the events that quickly foUowed
the great inaugurating Festival of Peace in 1851, Of
course those who organised the Great Exhibition
were in no way responsible for the exalted and extra
vagant expectations which were formed as to its
effects on the history of the world and the elements
of human nature. But there was a great deal too
much of the dithyrambic about the style in which
many writers and speakers thought fit to describe the
Exhibition. With some of these aU this was the
result of genuUie enthusiasm. In other instances the
extravagance was indulged in by persons net habitu-
aUy extravagant, but, on the contrary, very sober,
methodical, and calculating, who by the very fact of
their possessing eminently these qualities were led
into a total misconception of the influence of such
assemblages of men. These calm and wise persons

1851. PyEANS OF PEACE. 105
assumed that because they themselves, if shown that
a certain course of conduct was for their material and
moral benefit, would mstantly follow it and keep to
it, it must therefore foUow that aU peoples and states
were amenable to the same exceUent principle of self-
discipline. War is a foolish and improvident, not to
say immoral and atrocious, way of trying to adjust
our disputes, they argued ; let peoples far divided ia
geographical situation be only brought together and
induced to talk this over, and see how much more
profitable and noble is the rivaUy of peace m trade
and commerce, and they wUl never thmk of the
coarse and brutal arbitrament of battle any more.
Not a few others, it must be owned, indulged in the
high-flown glorification of the reign of peace to come
because the Exhibition was the special enterprise of
the Prince Consort, and they had a natural aptitude
for the production of courtly strains. But among all
these classes of paaan- singers it did happen that a
good deal of unmerited discredit was cast upon the
results of the Great Exhibition, for the enterprise was
held responsible for Ulusions it had of itself nothing
to do with creating, and disappointments which were
no consequence of any faUure on its part. Even
upon trade and production it is very easy to exag
gerate the beneficent Uifluences of an international
exhibition. But that such enterprises have some
beneficial Uifluence is beyond doubt; and that they
are interesting, instructive, well calculated to educate
and refine the minds of nations, may be admitted by
the least enthusiastic of men.

106 A mSTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xxi.
The first idea of the Exhibition was conceived
by Prince Albert ; and it was his energy and influ
ence which succeeded in carrying the idea into prac
tical execution. Probably no influence less great
than that which his station gave to the Prince would
have prevaUed to carry to success so difficult an
enterprise. There had been industrial exhibitions
before on a small scale and of local limit ; but if the
idea of an exhibition Ui which aU the nations of the
world were to compete had occurred to other minds
before, as it may well have done, it was merely as a
vague thought, a day-dream, without any claim to a
practical realisation. Prince Albert was President of
the Society of Arts, and this position secured him a
platform for the effective promulgation of his ideas.
On June 30, 1849, he called a meeting of the Society
of Arts at Buckingham Palace, He proposed that
the Society should undertake the initiative in the
promotion of an exhibition of the works of all
nations. The main idea of Prince Albert was that
the exhibition should be divided into four great
sections — the first to contain raw materials and pro
duce ; the second machinery for ordinary industrial
and productive purposes and mechanical inventions
of the more ingenious kind ; the third manufactured
articles; and the fourth sculpture, models, and the
iUustrations of the plastic arts generaUy. The idea
was at once taken up by the Society of Arts, and by
their agency spread abroad. On October 17 in the
came year a meeting of merchants and bankers was
held in London to promote the success of the under-

1850. PRINCE ALBERT AS A SPEAKER. 107
taking. In the first few days of 1850 a formal
Commission was appointed ' for the promotion of the
Exhibition of the Works of All Nations, to be holden
in the year 1851.' Prince Albert was appointed
President of the Commission. The enterprise was
now fairly launched. A few days after a meeting-
was held in the Mansion House to raise funds in aid
of the Exhibition, and ten thousand pounds was at
once coUected. This of course was but the beginning,
and a guarantee fund of two hundred thousand pounds
was very soon obtained.
On March 21 in the same year the Lord Mayor of
London gave a banquet at the Mansion House to the
chief magistrates of the cities, towns, and boroughs
of the United Kingdom, for the purpose of inviting
their co-operation in support of the undertaking.
Prince Albert was present, and spoke. He had cul
tivated the art of speaking with much success, and
had almost entirely overcome whatever difficulty
stood in his way from his foreign birth and educa
tion. He never q-uite lost his foreign accent. No
man coming to a new country at the age of manhood
as Prince Albert did ever acquired the new tongue ia
such a manner as to lose aU trace of a foreign origin :
and to the end of his career Prince Albert spoke -with
an accent which, however carefuUy trained, still
betrayed its early habitudes. But, except for this
sUght blemish. Prince Albert may be said to have
acquired a perfect mastery of the EngUsh language ;
and he became a remarkably good pubUc speaker.
He had indeed nothing of the orator in his nature.

108 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xxr.
It was but the extravagance of courtliness which
called his polished and thoughtful speeches oratory.
In the Prince's nature there was neither the passion
nor the poetry that are essential to genuine eloquence ;
nor were the occasions on which he addressed the
English people likely to stimulate a man to eloquence.
But his style of speaking was clear, thoughtful, stately,
and sometimes even noble. It exactly suited its pur
pose. It was that of a man who did not set up for an
orator; and who, when he spoke, wished that his
ideas rather than his words should impress hia
hearers. It is very much to be doubted whether the
English public would be quite delighted to have a
prince who was also a really great orator. Genuine
eloquence would probably impress a great many
respectable persons as a gift not exactly suited to a
prince. There is even stiU a certain distrust of the
artistic in the English mind as of a sort of thing
which is very proper in professional writers and
painters and speakers, but which would hardly
become persons of the highest station. Prince Albert
probably spoke just as weU as he could have done
with successful effect upon his EngUsh audiences.
At the dinner in the Mansion House he spoke with
great clearness and grace of the purposes of the Great
Exhibition. It was, he said, to ' give the world a
true test, a livUig picture, of the point of industrial
development at which the whole of mankUid has
arrived, and a new starting-point from which aU
nations wUl be able to direct their further exertions.'
It must not be supposed, however, that the pro*

1851. COLONEL SIBTHORP. 109
ject of the Great Exhibition advanced wholly without
opposition. Many persons were disposed to sneer at
it ; many were sceptical about its doing any good ;
not a few stUl regarded Prince Albert as a foreigner
and a pedant, and were slow to believe that anything
really practical was likely to be developed under his
impulse and protection. A very whimsical sort of
opposition was raised in the House of Commons by a
once famous eccentric, the late Colonel Sibthorp.
Sibthorp was a man who might have been drawn
by SmoUett. His grotesque gestures, his overboUing
energy, his uncouth appearance, his huge moustachcy
marked him out as an object of curiosity in any
crowd. He was the subject of one of the most amus
ing pieces of impromptu parody ever thro-wn off by a
public speaker — that m which O'ConneU travestied
Dryden's famous lines about the three poets in three
distant ages born, and pictured three colonels in
three different counties born, winding up with : ' The
force of Nature could no farther go ; to beard the one
she shaved the other two.' One of the gallant
Sibthorp' s especial weaknesses was a distrust and
detestation of aU foreigners. Foreigners he lumped
together as a race of beings whose chief character
istics were Popery and immorality. WhUe three-
fourths of the promoters of the Exhibition were
dwelUng with the strongest emphasis on the benefit
it would brmg by drawing into London the represen
tatives of aU nations. Colonel Sibthorp was denounc
ing this agglomeration of foreigners as the greatest
curse that could faU upon England. He regarded

110 A IHSTORY" OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xxr.
foreigners much as Isaac of York, in 'Ivanhoe,',
regards the Knight Templars. 'When,' asks Isaac in
bitter remonstrance, ' did Templars breathe aught but
cruelty to men and dishonour to women ? ' Colonel
Sibthorp kept askmg some such question with regard
to foreigners in general and their expected concourse
to the Exhibition, In language somewhat too ener
getic and broad for our more poUte time he warned
the House of Commons and the country of the con
sequences to English morals which must come of the
influx of a crowd of foreigners at a given season.
' Take care,' he exclaUned in the House of Commons,
' of your wives and daughters ; take care of your
property and your Uves ! ' He declared that he
prayed for some tremendous haUstorm or visitation
of lightnUig to be sent from heaven expressly for
the purpose of destroying in advance the buUding
destined for the Ul-omened Exhibition, When Free
Trade had left nothing else needed to complete the
rum of the nation, the enemy of manldnd, he declared,
had inspired us with the idea of the Great Exhibition,
so that the foreigners who had first robbed us of
our trade might now be enabled to rob us of our
honour. The objections raised to the Exhibition were not
by any means confined to Colonel Sibthorp or to his
kind of argument. After some consideration the
Royal Commissioners had fixed upon Hyde Park as
the best site for the great buUding, and many ener
getic and some influential voices were raised in fierce
outcry against what was called the profanation of the

1851. THE HYDE PARK OPPOSITION. Ill
park. It was argued that the public use of Hyde
Park would be destroyed by the Exhibition; that
the park would be utterly spoiled ; that its beauty
could never be restored. A petition was presented
by Lord CampbeU to the House of Lords agauist the
occupation of any part of Hyde Park with the Exhibi
tion buUding. Lord Brougham supported the petition
¦with his characteristic impetuosity and vehemence
He denounced the Attorney- General with indignant
eloquence because that official had decUned to file au
appUcation to the Court of Chancery for an injunction
to stay any proceeding with the proposed buUding in
the park. He denounced the House of Lords itself
for what he considered its servUe deference to royalty
in the matter of the Exhibition and its site. He
declared that when he endeavoured to raise the
question there he was received Ui dead sUence ; and
he asserted that an effort to brmg on a discussion in
the House of Commons was received with a silence
equaUy profound and servUe. Such facts, he shouted,
only showed more painfuUy ' that absolute prostra
tion of the understanding which takes place even in
the mmds of the bravest when the word prince is men
tioned Ui this country ! ' It is probably true enough
that only the Uifluence of a prmce could have carried
the scheme to success against the storms of opposition
that began to blow at various periods and from differ
ent points. Undoubtedly a vast number, probably the
great majority, of those who supported the enterprise
in the begUining did so simply because it was the
project of a prince. Their numbers and their money

112 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TBIES. ch. xxi.
enabled it to be carried on, and secured it the test of
the world's exammation and approval. In that sense
the very servility which accepts with delight what
ever a prmce proposes stood the Exhibition in good
stead ; a courtier may plead that if English people in
general had been more independent and less given to
admiration of prmces, the excellent project devised
by Prince Albert would never have had a fair trial.
Many times during its progress the Prince himself
trembled for the success of his scheme. Many a time
he must have felt Uiclmed to renounce it, or at least
to regret that he had ever taken it up.
Absurd as the opposition to the scheme may now
seem, it is certain that a great many sensible persons
thought the moment singularly inopportune for the
gathermg of large crowds, and were satisfied that
some inconvenient, if not dangerous, public demon
stration must be provoked. The smouldering embers
of Chartism, they said, were everywhere under society's
feet. The crowds of foreigners whom Colonel Sib
thorp so dreaded would, calmer people said, naturally
mclude large numbers of the ' Reds ' of all Continental
nations, who would be only too glad to coalesce with
Chartism and discontent of all kinds, for the purpose
of disturbing the peace of London. The agitation
caused by the Papal aggression was stUl in full force
and flame. By an odd coincidence the first column
of the Exhibition building had been set up in Hyde
Park almost at the same moment with the issue of
the Papal bull estabUshing a Roman Catholic hier
archy in England. These conditions looked gloomy

1851. AN OLD WOMEN'S PANIC. 113
for the project. ' The opponents of the Exhibition,'
wrote the Prince himself, ' work with might and
main to throw all the old women here into a panic
and to drive myself crazy. The strangers, they give
out, are certain to commence a thorough revolution
here, to murder Victoria and myself, and to proclaim
the Red Republic in England ; the plague is certain to
ensue from the confluence of such vast multitudes,
and to swallow up those whom the increased price of
everything has not already swept away. For all
this I am to be responsible, and agamst all this I
have to make efficient provision.' Most of the Con
tinental sovereigns looked coldly on the undertaking.
The King of Prussia took such alarm at the thought
of the Red Republicans whom the Exhibition would
draw together, that at first he positively prohibited
his brother, then Prince of Prussia, now German
Emperor, from attending the opening ceremonial;
and though he afterwards withdrew the prohibition,
he remamed full of doubts and fears as to the per
sonal safety of any royal or princely personage found
in Hyde Park on the opening day. The Duke of
Cambridge, being appealed to on the subject, acknow
ledged himself also fuU of apprehensions. The objec
tions to the site continued to grow up to a certain
time. ' The Exhibition,' Prmce Albert wrote once
to Baron Stockmar, his friend and adviser, ' is now
attacked furiously by the Times, and the House of
Commons is going to drive us out of the Park.
There is immense excitement on the subject. If we
are driven out of the Park the work is done for.' At
VOL. II. I

114 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TBIES, oh. Xxi.
one time, indeed, this result seemed highly probable ;
but public opinion graduaUy underwent a change,
and the opposition to the site was defeated in the
House of Commons by a large majority.
Even, however, when the question, of the site had
been disposed of, there remained immense difficulties
in the way. The press was not on the whole very
favourable to the project; Punch, in particular, was
hardly ever weary of making fun of it. Such
a project, whUe yet only in embryo, undoubtedly
furnished many points on which satire could
fasten ; and nothing short of complete success could
save it from falling under a mountain of ridicule.
No half success would have rescued it. The ridicule
was naturaUy provoked and aggravated to an uut
speakable degree by the hyperbolical expectations
and preposterous dithyrambics of some of the welh
meaning but unwise and somewhat too obstreperously
loyal supporters of the enterprise. To add to aU
this, as the time for the opening drew near, some of
the foreign diplomatists in London began to sulk at
the whole project. There were small points of
objection made about the position and functions of
foreign ambassadors at the opening ceremonial, and
what the Queen and Prince meant for politeness was
in one instance at least near being twisted mto cause
of offence. Up to the last moment it was not quite
certain whether an absurd diplomatic quarrel might
not have been part of the inaugural ceremonies of the
opening day.
The Prince did not despair, however, and the

1851. A PALACE OF GLASS. 115
project went on. There was a great deal of difficulty
in selecting a plan for the buUding. Huge structures
of brickwork, looking like enormous raUway sheds,
costly and hideous at once, were proposed ; it seemed
almost certain that some one of them must be chosen.
HappUy, a sudden inspiration struck Mr. (afterwards
Sir Joseph) Paxton, who was then in charge of the
Duke of Devonshire's superb grounds at Chatsworth.
Why not try glass and iron ? he asked himself. Why
not build a palace of glass and iron large enough to
cover aU the mtended contents of the Exhibition, and
which should be at once, Ught, beautiful, and cheap ?
Mr. Paxton sketched out his plan hastUy, and the
idea was eagerly accepted by the Royal Commis
sioners. He made many improvements afterwards
in his design ; but the palace of glass and iron arose
within the specified time on the green turf of Hyde
Park. The idea so happUy hit upon was sei-viceable
in more ways than one to the success of the Exhibi
tion. It made the building itself as much an object
of curiosity and wonder as the coUections under its
crystal roof. Of the hundreds of thousands who
came to the Exhibition a goodly proportion were
drawn to Hyde Park rather by a wish to see Paxton's
palace of glass than all the wonders of industrial and
plastic art that it enclosed. Indeed, Lord Palmer
ston, writing to Lord Normanby on the day after the
openmg of the Exhibition, said : ' The building itself
is far more worth seeing than anything in it, though
many of its contents are worthy of admiration,'
Perhaps the glass building was Uke the Exhibition
I 2

116 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. en.. xxr.
project itself in one respect. It did not bring about
the revolution which it was confidently expected to
create. Glass and iron have not superseded brick
and stone, any more than competitions of peaceful
industry have banished arbitrament by war. But
the buUding, Uke the Exhibition itself, fulfilled admi
rably its more modest and immediate purpose, and
was in that way a complete success. The structure
of glass is indeed in every mind inseparably asso
ciated with the event and the year.
The Queen herself has written a very interesting
account of the success of the openmg day. Her
description is interesting as an expression of the
feelings of the writer, the sense of profound reUef
and rapture, as weU as for the sake of the picture it
gives of the ceremonial itseU". The enthusiasm of
the wife over the complete success of the project on
which her husband had set his heart and staked his
name is simple and touching. If the importance of
the undertakUig and the amount of fame it was to
bring to its author may seem a little overdone, not
many readers will complain of the womanly and
wifely feeling which could not be denied such fer
vent expression. ' The great event,' wrote the Queen,
' has taken place — a complete and beautiful triumph
— a glorious and touching sight, one which I shaU
ever be proud of for my beloved Albert and my
country. . . . The park presented a wonderful spec
tacle — crowds streaming through it, carriages and
troops passing, quite like the Coronation day, and for
me the same anxiety — no, much greater anxiety, on

1851. THE OPENING DAY. 117
account of my beloved Albert. The day was bright,
and all bustle and excitement. , . , The Green Park
and Hyde Park were one densely crowded mass of
human beings, in the highest good humour and most
enthusiastic. I never saw Hyde Park look as it did
— as far as the eye could reach. A little rain fell
just as we started, but before we came near the
Crystal Palace the sun shone and gleamed upon the
gigantic edifice, upon which the flags of aU nations
were floating. . . . The glimpse of the transept
through the Uon gates, the waving palms, flowers,
statues, myriads of people fillmg the galleries and
seats around, with the flourish of trumpets as we
entered, gave us a sensation which I can never forget,
and I felt much moved. . . . The sight as we came
to the middle was magical — so vast, so glorious, so
touching — one felt, as so many did whom I have since
spoken to, fiUed with devotion — more so than by any
service I have ever heard. The tremendous cheers,
the joy expressed in every face, the immensity of the
buUding, the mixtu.re of palms, flowers, trees, statues,
fountains ; the organ (with two hundred instruments
and six hundred voices, which sounded like nothing),
and my beloved husband the author of this peace
festival, which united the industry of all nations of
the earth — aU this was moving indeed, and it was
and is a day to Uve for ever. God bless my dearest
Albert ! God bless my dearest country, which has
shown itself so great to-day ! One felt so grateful
to the great God, who seemed to pervade aU and to
bless aU.'

118 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TBIES. en. xxr.
The success of the opening day r was indeed ui^
-doubted. There were nearly thirty thousand people
gathered together within the building, and nearly
three-quarters of a mUUon of persons lined 'the- way
between the Exhibition and Buckingham- PalaGe<;
and yet no accident whatever occurred, nor had the
police any trouble imposed on them by the conduct
of anybody in the crowd. ' It was impossible,' wrote
Lord Palmerston, ' for the invited guests of a lady'-s
drawing-room to have conducted themselves with
more perfect propriety than did this sea of human
beings.' It is needless to say that there were no
hostUe demonstrations by Red Republicans or^ malign
nant Chartists or infuriated Irish CathoUcs. The
one thing which especiaUy struck foreign observers,
and to which many eloquent pens and tongues bore
witness, was the orderly conduct of the people. Nor
did the subsequent history of the Exhibition- in any
way beUe the promise of its opening day. It con
tinued to attract delighted crowds to the last, and
more thaji once held within its precincts at one
moment nearly a hundred thousand persons, a con
course large enough to have made the population! of
a respectable Continental capital. In another Way
the Exhibition proved even more successful than was
anticipated. There had been some difficulty' in rais
ing money in the first instance, and it was thought
something of a patriotic risk when, a few spirited
citizens combined to secure the accomplishment ' of
. the undertaking by means of a guarantee fund.-; But
the guarantee fund became in the end merely one of

1851. OTHER EXHIBITIONS. 119
the forms and ceremonials of the Exhibition ; for the
undertaking not only covered its expenses, but left a
huge sum of money in the hands of the Royal Com.-
missioners. The Exhibition was closed by Prince
Albert on October 15. That at least maybe described
as the closing day, for it was then that the awards of
prizes were made known m presence of the Prince
and a large concourse of people. The Exhibition
itself had actually been closed to the general public
on the eleventh of the month. It has been imitated
again and again. It was foUowed by an exhibition
in Dublin ; an exhibition of the paintings and sculp
tures of aU nations in Manchester; three great exhi
bitions in Paris ; the International Exhibition in Ken
sington in 1862 — the enterprise too of Prince Albert,
although not destuaed to have his presence at its
opening ; an exhibition at Vienna, one in PhUadelphia,
and various others. Where all nations seem to have
agreed to pay Prince Albert's enterprise the compli
ment of imitation, it seems superfluous to say that it
was a success. Time has so toned down our expec
tations in regard to these enterprises that no occasion
now arises for the feeling of disappointment which
was long associated in the mmds of once-sanguine
persons with the Crystal Palace of Hyde Park. We
look on such exhibitions now as useful agencies in
the work of industrial development, and in promoting
the intercourse of peoples, and thus co-operating with
various other influences Ui the general business of
civilisation. But the impressions produced by the
Hyde Park Exhibition were unique. It was the first

120 A IHSTORY OF OUR OWN TBIES. cn. xxr.
thing of the kind ; the gathering of peoples it brought
together was as new, odd, and mteresting as the
glass buUdmg in which the industry of the world
was displayed. For the first time m their lives
Londoners saw the ordinary aspect of London dis
tinctly modified and changed by the incursion of
foreigners who came to take part in or to look at our
Exhibition. London seemed to be playmg at holi
day in a strange carnival sort of way durmg the time
the Exhibition was open. The Hyde Park enter
prise bequeathed nothmg very tangible or distinct to
the world, except mdeed the palace which, buUt out
of its fabric, not its rums, so gracefully ornaments
one of the soft liUls of Sydenham, But the memory
of the Exhibition itself is very distinct with all who
saw it. None of its foUowers was exactly Uke it, or
could take its place in the recollection of those who
were its contemporaries. In a year made memorable
by many political events of the greatest importance,
of disturbed and tempestuous politics abroad and at
home, of the deaths of many Ulustrious men, and the
faUure of many splendid hopes, the Exhibition in
Hyde Park stUl holds its place in memory — ^not for
what it brought or accomplished, but simply for
itself, its surroundings, and its house of gla.=;a.

18C0. 1 21

CHAPTER XXII.
PALMEESTON,
The death of Sir Robert Peel had left Lord Palmer
ston the most prominent, if not actually the most
influential, among the statesmen of England, Pal
merston's was a strenuous self-assertmg character.
He loved, whenever he had an opportunity, to make
a stroke, as he frequently put it himself, ' off his own
bat.' He had given himself up to the study of foreign
affairs as no minister of his time had done. He had a
pecuhar capacity for understanding foreign politics
and people as well as foreign languages ; and he had
come somewhat to pique himself upon his know
ledge. As Bacon said that he had taken all learning
for his province, Palmerston seemed to have made up
his mind that he had taken all European affairs for
his province. His sympathies were markedly Uberal.
As opinions went then, they might have been con
sidered among statesmen almost revolutionary; for
the Conservative of our day is to the fuU as Uberal
as the average Liberal of 1848 and 1850. In aU the
popular movements going on throughout the Con
tinent Palmerston's sympathies were generally with
the peoples and agamst the govemment; whUe he
had, on the other hand, a very strong contempt.

122 A IHSTORY OF OUR OWN TBIES. cn. xxrr.
which he took no pains to conceal, even for the very
best class of the Continental demagogue. It was
not, however, in his sympathies that Palmerston
differed from most of his coUeagues. He was not
more Uberal even in his views of foreign affaUs than
Lord John RusseU; he was probably not so con
sistently and on principle a supporter of free and
popular institutions. But Lord Palmerston's ener
getic, heedless temperament, his exuberant animal
spirits, and his profound confidence in himself and
his opinions, made him much mOre Uberal and spon
taneous in his expressions of sympathy than a man
of RusseU's colder nature could weU have been.
Palmerston seized a conclusion at once, and hardly
ever departed from it. He never seemed to care who
knew what he thought on any subject. He had a
contempt for men of more deUberate temper, and
often spoke and wrote as if he thought a man slow
in forming an opinion must needs be a duU man, not
to say a fool. AU opmions not his own he held hi
good-humoured scorn. In some of his letters we
find him writing of men of the most undoubted genius
and wisdom, whose views have since stood aU the
test of tune and trial, as if they were mere block
heads for whom no practical man could feel the
sUghtest respect. It would be almost superfluous
to say, in describing a man of such a nature, that
Lord Palmerston sometimes fancied he saw greait
wisdom and force of character in men for whom
neither then nor smce did the world in general show-
much regard. As with a man, so with a cause. Lord

1850. PALMERSTON'S MANNER, 123
PaUnerston was t© aU appearance capricious in his
sympathies. Calmer and more earnest minds were
sometimes offended at what seemed a lack of deep-
seated principle in his mind and his poUcy, even
when it happened that he and they were in accord
as to the course- that ought to be pursued. His levity
often shocked them; his blunt, brusque ways of
speaking and writing sometimes gave downright
offence. In his later years Lord Palmerston's manner in
ParUament and out of it had greatly mellowed and
softened and gro-wn more genial. He retained aU
the good spirits and the ready, easy, marveUously
telling humour : but he had grown more considerate
of the feeUngs of opponents in debate, and he aUowed
his genuine kindness of heart a freer influence upon
his mode of speech. ' He had grown to prefer on the
whole his friend or even his honourable opponent to
his joke. They who only remember Palmerston in
his very later years in the House of Commons, and
who can only recaU to memory that bright racy
humour which never offended, -wiU perhaps find it
hard to understand how many enemies he made for
himself at an earUer period by the levity and flippancy
of his manner. Many grave statesmen thought that
the levity and flippancy were far less dangerous even
¦when employed in irritating his adversaries in the
.House of Commons than when exercised in badger
ing foreign ministers and their governments and
¦sovereigns. Lord Palmerston was unsparing in his
lectures to foreign states. He was always admonish-

124 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn.,xxir.
ing them that they ought to lose no time in at once
adopting the principles of government which pre
vaUed in England. He not uncommonly put his
admonitions in the tone of one who meant to say :
' If you don't take my advice you. wUl be ruined, and
your ruin wUl serve you right for being such fools.'
WhUe, therefore, he was a Conservative in home
poUtics, and never even professed the slightest per
sonal interest in any projects of political reform in
England, he got the credit all over the Continent of
being a supporter, promoter, and patron of all manner
of revolutionary movements, and a disturber of the
relations between subjects and their sovereigns.
Lord Palmerston was not Uiconsistent in thus
being a Conservative at home and something like a
revolutionary abroad. He was quite satisfied with
the state of things in England. He was convinced
that when a people had got a weU -Umited suffrage
and a respectable House of Commons elected by open
vote, a House of Lords, and a constitutional Sovereign,
they had got all that in a political sense man has to hope
for. He was not a far-seeing man, nor a man who
much troubled himself about what a certain class of
writers and thinkers are fond of calling ' problems of
life.' It did not occur to him to think that as a matter
of absolute necessity the very reforms we enjoy in one
day are only putting us into a mental condition to
aspire after and see the occasion for further reforms
as the days go on. But he clearly saw that most
Continental countries were governed on a system
which was not only worn out and decaying, but

1850. THE TWO PALMERSTONS. 125
which was the source of great practical and personal
evUs to their inhabitants. He desired, therefore, for
every country a political system like that of Great
Britain, and neither for Great Britain nor for any
other country did he desire anything more. He was,
accordingly, looked upon by Continental ministers as
a patron of revolution, and by English Radicals as
the steady enemy of poUtical reform. Both were
right from their o-wn point of view. The famUiar
saying among Continental Conservatives was ex
pressed in the weU-known German lines, which
affirm that, 'If the devU had a son, he must be
surely Palmerston.' On the other hand, the English
Radical party regarded him as the most formidable
enemy" they had. Mr. Cobden deliberately declared
hUn to be the worst minister that had ever governed
England. At a later period, when Lord Palmerston
invited Cobden to take office under him, Cobden
referred to what he had said of Palmerston, and gave
this as a reason to show the impossibUity of his serv
ing such a chief. The good-natured statesman only
smUed, and observed that another pubUc man who
had just jomed his Administration had often said
things as hard of him in other days. ' Yes,' an
swered Cobden, quietly, ' but I meant what I said.'
Palmerston, therefore, had many enemies among
European statesmen. It is now certain that the
Queen frequently wUiced under the expressions of
Ul-feeling which were brought to her ears as affectmg
England, and, as she supposed, herself, and which
she believed to have been drawn on her by the incon-

126 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xxn.
siderate and impulsive conduct of Palmerston, The
Prince Consort, on whose advice the Queen very
naturally relied, was a man of singularly calm and
earnest nature. He liked to form his opinions
deUberately and slowly, and dislUced expressing any
opinion untU his mind was well made up. Lord PaL
merston, when Secretary for Foreign Affairs, was much
in the habit of writing and answering despatches on
the spur of the moment, and without consulting either
the Queen or his coUeagues, Palmerston complained
of the long delays which took place on several occa
sions when, in matters of urgent importance, he waited
to submit despatches to the Queen before sending
them off. He was of opinion that during the memo
rable controversy on the Spanish marriages Ihe in
terests of England were once in danger of being com
promised by the delay thus forced upon him. He
contended too that where the general policy of a state
was clearly marked out and weU known, it would have
been idle to Uisist that a Foreign Secretary capable
of performing the duties of his office should wait to
submit for the inspection and approval of the Sove
reign and his colleagues every scrap of paper he wrote
on before it was aUowed to leave England, If such
precautions were needful, Lord Palmerston con
tended, it could only be because the person holding
the office of Foreign Secretary was unfit for his post ;
and he ought, therefore, to be dismissed, and some
better qualified man put m his place. Of course
there is some obvious justice in this view of the case.
It would perhaps have been unreasonable to expect

1850. STROKES OFF HIS OWN BAT. 127
that, at a time when the business of the Foreign
Office had suddenly sweUed to unprecedented magni
tude, the same rules and formaUties could be kept up
which had suited slower and less busy days. But
the complaint made by the Queen was not that Pal
merston failed to consult her on every detaU, and to
submit every line relating to the organisation of the
Foreign Office for her approval before he sent it off.
The complaint was clear, and fuU of matter for very
grave consideration. The Queen complained that on
matters concerning the actual poUcy of the State
Palmerston was in the habit of acting on his own
independent judgment and authority; that she found
herself more than once thus pledged to a course of
poUcy which she had not had an opportunity of con
sidering, and would not have approved if she had had
such an opportunity ; and that she hardly ever fomid
any question absolutely intact and uncompromised
when it was submitted to her judgment. < The com
plaint was justified in many cases. Lord Palmerston
frequently acted in a manner which almost made it
seem as if he were purposely ignoring the authority
of the Sovereign. In part this came from the natural
impatience of a quick man confident in his own
knowledge of a subject, and chafing at any delay
which he thought unnecessary and merely formal.
But it is not easy to avoid a suspicion that Lord
Palmerston's rapidity of action sometimes had a
different explanation. Two impressions seem to
have had a place deeply down in the mind of the
Foreign Secretary. He appears to have felt sure

128 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TBIES. cn. xxir.
that, roughly speaking, the sympathies of the Eng
lish people were with the Continental movements
against the sovereigns, and that the sympathies of
the EngUsh Court were with the sovereigns against
the popular movements. In the first belief he was
undoubtedly right. In the second he was probably
right. It is not Ukely that a man of Prince Albert's
pecuUar turn of mind could have admitted much
sympathy with revolution against constituted autho
rity of any kind. Even his Liberalism, undoubtedly
a deep and genuine conviction, did not lead him to
make much allowance for any disturbUig impulses.
His orderly intellectual nature, with little of fire or
passion in it, was prone to estimate everything by
the manner in which it stood the test of logical argu
ment. He could understand arguing agamst a bad
system better than he could understand taking the
risk of making things worse by resisting it. Some
of the published memoranda or other -writings of
Prince Albert are full of a curious interest as show
ing the way in which a calm, inteUectual and earnest
man could approach some of the burning questions
of the day with the belief apparently that the great
antagonisms of systems and of opposing national
forces could be argued into moderation and per
suaded into compromise. In Prince Albert there
were two tendencies counteracting each other. His
natural sympathies were manifestly with the authority
of thrones. His education taught him that thrones
can only exist by virtue of their occupants recog
nising the fact that they do not exist of their own

1850. PALMERSTON AND PUBLIC OPINION. 129
authority, and taking care that they do not become
unsuited to the time. The influence of Prince Albert
would therefore be something very different from the
impulses and desires of Lord Palmerston. It is hardly
to be doubted that Palmerston sometimes acted upon
this conviction. He thought he understood better
than others not only the tendencies of events in
foreign poUtics, but also the tendencies of English
public opinion with regard to them. He well knew
that so long as he had pubhc opinion with him, no
influence could long prevaU against him. His know
ledge of English public opinion was something like
an instinct. It could always be trusted. It had,
indeed, no far reach. Lord Palmerston never could
be reUed upon for a judgment as to the possible
changes of a generation or even a few years. But he
was an almost infalUble guide as to what a majority
of the EngUsh people were likely to say if asked at
the particular moment when any question was under
dispute. Palmerston never reaUy guided, but always
followed, the English public, even in foreign affairs.
He was, it seems almost needless to say, an incom
parably better judge of the direction English senti
ment was likely to take than the most acute foreigner
put in such a place as Prince Albert's could possibly
hope to be. It may be assumed then that some at
least of Lord Palmerston's actions were dictated by
the conviction that he had the general force of that
sentiment to sustain him in case his mode of con
ducting the business of the Foreign Office should ever
be called into account.
VOL. II. K

130 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TBIES. cn. xxn.
A time came when it was called into account.
The Queen and the Prince had long chafed under
Lord Palmerston's cavaUer way of doing business.
So far back as 1849 her Majesty had felt obUged.
to draw the attention of the Foreign Secretary to
the fact that his office was constitutionaUy under the
control of the Prime Minister, and that the despatches
to be submitted for her approval should, therefore,
pass through the hands of Lord John Russell. Lord
John Russell approved of this arrangement, only
suggesting — and the suggestion is of some moment
in considering the defence of his conduct afterwards
made by Lord Palmerston — that every facUity should
be given for the transaction of business by the Queen's
attending to the draft despatches as soon as possible
after their arrival. The Queen accepted the sugges
tion good-humouredly, only pleading that she should
' not be pressed for an answer -withui a few mUiutes,
as is done now sometimes.' One can see tolerably
weU what a part of the difficulty was even from these
slight hints. Lord Palmerston was rapid in forming
his judgments as in all his proceedmgs, and when
once he had made up his mind was impatient of any
delay which seemed to him superfluous. Prince
Albert was slow, deliberate, reflective, and metho
dical. Lord Palmerston was always sure he was
right in every judgment he formed, even if it were
adopted on the spur of the moment ; Prince Albert
loved reconsideration, and was open to new argument,
and late conviction. However, the difficulty was got
over in 1849. Lord Palmerston agreed to every sug-

1850. THE queen's MEMORANDTOI. 131
gestion, and for the time all seemed likely to go
smoothly. It was only for the time. The Queen
soon believed she had reason to complaUi that the
new arrangement was not carried out. Things
were going on, she thought, in just the old way.
Lord Palmerston dealt as before with foreign courts
according to what seemed best to him at the moment ;
and his Sovereign and his colleagues often only knew
of some important despatch or instruction when the
thing was done and could not be conveniently or
becommgly undone. " The Prince, at her Majesty's
request, wrote to Lord John Russell, complaining
strongly of the conduct of Lord Palmerston. The
letter declared that Lord Palmerston had failed in
his duty to-wards her, ' and not from oversight or
negligence, but upon principle, and with astonishmg
pertinacity, agamst every effort of the Queen. Be
sides which. Lord Palmerston does not scruple to let
it appear in pubUc as if the Sovereign's negligence
in attending to the papers sent to her caused delay
and annoyance.' Even before this it seems that the
Queen had drawn up a memorandum to lay down in
clear and severe language the exact rules by which
the Foreign Secretary must be bound in his dealUigs
with her. The memorandum was not used at that
time, as it was thought that the remonstrances of the
Sovereign and the Prime Minister alike could hardly
faU to have some effect on the Foreign Secretary.
This time, however, the Queen appears to have felt
that she could no longer refrain; and accordingly
the foUowmg important memorandum was addressed
k2

132 A IHSTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xxir,
by her Majesty to the Prime Minister. It is well
worth quoting m fuU, partly because it became a
subject of much interest and controversy afterwards,
and partly because of the tone of peculiar sternness,
rare indeed from a sovereign to a minister in our
times, in which its instructions are conveyed.

Osbome, A-agust 12, 1850.
With reference to the conversation about Lord Palmerston
•which the Queen had -with Lord John Russell the other day, and
Lord Palmerston's disavo-wal that he ever intended any disrespect
to her by the various neglects of -which she has had so long and so
often to complain, she thinks it right, in order to prevent any mis
take for the future, to explain -what it is she expects from the
Foreign Secretary.
She requires :
First. That he -will distinctly state -what he proposes to do in a
given case, in order that the Queen may kno-w as distinctly to what
she has given her royal sanction.
Second. Having once given her sanction to a measure, that it
be not arbitrarily altered or modified by the Minister ; such an act
she must consider as failure in sincerity to-wards the Crown, and
justly to be -visited by the exercise of her constitutional right of
dismissing that Minister. She expects to be kept informed of what
passes between him and the foreign ministers, before important de
cisions are taken based upon that intercourse; to receive the foreign
despatches in good time, and to have the drafts for her approval
sent to her in suflEicient time to make herself acquainted -with their
contents before they must be sent off. The Queen thinks it
best that Lord John RusseU should show this letter to Lord
Palmerston. The tone of the memorandum was severe, but
there was nothing unreasonable in its stipulations.
On the contrary, it simply prescribed what everyone
might have supposed to be the elementary conditions
on which the duties of a sovereign and a foreign

1850. THE OFFICE OF TIIE SOVEREIGN. 133
minister can alone be satisfactorily carried on. Cus
tom as well as obvious convenience demanded such
conditions. The Duke of WelUngton declared that
when he was Prime Minister no despatch left the
Foreign Office without his seeing it. No sovereign,
one would think, could consent to the responsibUity
of rule on any other terms. We have perhaps got
into the habit of thinking, or at least of saying, that
the sovereign of a constitutional country only rules
through the ministers. But it would be a great
mistake to suppose that the sovereign has no con
stitutional functions -avhatever provided by our system
of government, and that the sole duty of a monarch
is to make a figure m certain state pageantry. It
has sometimes been said that the sovereign in a
country like England is only the signet ring of the
nation. If this were true, it might be asked with
unanswerable force why a veritable signet ring cost-
mg a few pounds, and never requiring to be renewed,
would not serve aU purposes quite as weU and save
expense. But the position of the sovereign is not
one of meaningless inactivity. The sovereign has a
very distinct and practical office to fulfil in a con
stitutional country. The monarch in England is the
chief magistrate of the State, specially raised above
party and passion and change in order to be able to
look with a clearer eye to all that concerns the
interests of the nation. Our constitutional system
grows and developes itself year after year as our
requirements and conditions change ; and the position
of the sovereign, like every thmg else, has undergone

134 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. ch. xxu.
some modification. It is settled now beyond dispute
that the sovereign is not to dismiss ministers, or a
minister, simply from personal inclination or con
viction, as until a very recent day it was the right
and the habit of English monarchs to do. The
sovereign now retains, in virtue of usage having
almost the force of constitutional law, the ministers
of whom the House of Commons approves. But the
Crown stiU has the right, in case of extreme need,
of dismissing any minister who actuaUy faUs to do his
duty. The sovereign is always supposed to under
stand the business of the State, to consider its affairs,
and to offer an opinion and enforce it by argument
on any question submitted by the ministers. When
the ministers find that they cannot aUow their judg
ment to bend to that of the sovereign, then indeed
the sovereign gives way or the ministers resign. In
aU ordinary cases the sovereign gives way. But it
was never intended by the EngUsh Constitution that
the ministers and the country were not to have the
benefit of the advice and the judgment of a magis
trate who is purposely placed above aU the excite
ments and temptations of party, its triumphs and its
reverses, and who is assumed therefore to have no other
motive than the good of the State in offering an
advice. The sovereign would grossly fail m pubUc
duty, and would be practically disappointing the con
fidence of the nation, who consented to act simply
as the puppet of the minister, and to sign mechani-
caUy and without question every document he laid
on the table.

1850. THE EFFECT OF THE REBUKE. 135
In the principles which she laid down therefore,
the Queen was strictly right. But the memorandum
was none the less a severe and a gaUing rebuke for
the Foreign Secretary. We can imagine with what
emotions Lord Palmerston must have received it.
He was a proud, self-confident man ; and it came on
him just in the moment of his greatest triumph.
Never before, never since, did Lord Palmerston win
so signal and so splendid a victory as that which he
had extorted by the sheer force of his eloquence and
his genius from a reluctant House of Commons in
the Don Pacifico debate. Never probably in our
ParUamentary history did a man of years so advanced
accompUsh such a feat of eloquence, argument, and
persuasion as he had achieved. He stood up before
the world the foremost English statesman of the day.
It is easy to imagine how deeply he must have felt
the rebuke conveyed in the memorandum of the
Queen. We know as a matter of fact from what he
himself afterwards said, that he did feel it bitterly.
But he kept down his feelings. Whether he was
right or wrong in the matter of dispute, he un
doubtedly showed admirable self-control and good
temper in his manner of receiving the reprimand. He
wrote a friendly and good-humoured letter to Lord
John RusseU, saying, ' I have taken a copy of this
memorandum of the Queen, and wUl not faU to attend
to the directions which it contains.' The letter then
gave a few lines of explanation about the manner in
which delays had arisen in the sending of despatches
to the Queen, but promising to return to the old

136 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. en. xxir.
practice, and expressing a hope that if the return
required an additional clerk or two, the Treasury
would be Uberal in allowing him that assistance.
Nothing could be more easy and pleasant. It might
have seemed the ease of absolute carelessness. But
it was nothing of the kind. Lord Palmerston had
acted deliberately and with a purpose. He after
wards explained why he had not answered the rebuke
by resigning his office. ' The paper,' he said, ' was
written in anger by a lady as well as by a sovereign,
and the difference between a lady and a man could
not be forgotten even in the case of the occupant of
the throne.' He had 'no reason to suppose that
this memorandum would ever be seen by or be
known to, anybody but the Queen, John Russell, and
myself.' Again, ' I had lately been the object of
violent political attack, and had gamed a great and
signal victory in the House of Commons and in
public opinion ; to have resigned then would havo
been to have given the fruits of victory to anta
gonists whom I had defeated, and to have abandoned
my political supporters at the very moment when by
their means I had triumphed.' But beyond all that,
Lord Palmerston said that by suddenly resigning
^ I should have been bringing for decision at the bar
of public opmion a personal quarrel between myself
and my Sovereign — a step which no subject ought to
take if he can possibly avoid it ; for the result of
such a course must be either fatal to him or injurious
to the country. If he should prove to be in the
wrong, he would be irretrievably condemned ; if the

1850. PALMERSTON'S REPLY. 137
Sovereign should be proved to be in the wrong, the
monarchy would suffer.'
It is impossible not to feel a high respect for the
manner in which, having come to this determination.
Lord Palmerston at once acted upon it. As he had
resolved not to resent the rebuke, he would not aUow
any gleam of feeling to creep mto his letter which
could show that he felt any resentment. Few men
could have avoided the temptation to throw into a
reply on such an occasion something of the tone
of the injured, the unappreciated, the martyr, the
wronged one who endures much and wUl not com
plain. Lord Palmerston felt mstinctively the bad
taste and unwisdom of such a style of reply. He
took his rebuke Ui the most perfect good humour.
His letter must have surprised Lord John Russell.
Macaulay observes that Warren Hastings, confident
that he knew best and was acting rightly, endured
the rebukes of the East India Company with a
patience which was sometimes mistaken for the
patience of stupidity. It is not unlikely that when
the Prime Minister received Lord Palmerston's reply
he may have mistaken its patience for the patience of
downright levity and indifference.
Lord Palmerston went a step farther in the
way of conciliation. He asked for an interview with
Prince Albert, and he explained to the Prince in
the most emphatic and indignant terms that the
accusation against him of being purposely wanting
in respect to the Sovereign was absolutely unfounded.
'Had it been deserved, he ought to be no longer

138 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TBIES, cn. xxir.
tolerated in society.' But he does not seem in the
course of the interview to have done much more than
argue the poUit as to the propriety and convenience
of the system he had lately been adopting in the
business of the Foreign Office,
So for the hour the matter dropped. Other events
interfered ; there were many important questions of
domestic poUcy to be attended to ; and for some time
Lord Palmerston's policy and his way of conducting
the business of the Foreign Office did not invite
any particular attention. But the old question was
destUied to come up again in more serious form than
before. The faUure of the Hungarian rebelUon, through
the intervention of Russia, called up a wide and
deep feeling of regret and indignation in this country.
The English people had very generally sympathised
with the cause of the Hungarians and rejoiced in the
victories which up to a certain point the arms of the
insurgents had won. When the Hungarians were
put down at last, not by the strength of Austria but
by the Uitervention of Russia, the anger of EngUsh
men in general found loud-spoken expression. Louis
Kossuth, who had been Dictator of Hungary during
the greater part of the insurrection, and who repre
sented, in the English mind at least, the cause of Hun
gary and her national independence, came to England.
He was about to take up his residence, as he then
intended, in the United States, and on his way
thither he visited England. He had appUed for per
mission to pass through French territory, and had

1851. LOUIS KOSSUTH. 139
been refused the favour. The refusal only gave one
additional reason to the EngUsh public for welcoming
him with especial cordiality. He was accordingly
received at Southampton, in Biradngham, m London,
with an enthusiasm such as no foreigner except
Garibaldi alone has ever drawn in our time from the
EngUsh people. There was much in Kossuth him-
seU as weU as in his cause to attract the enthusiasm
of popular assemblages. He had a strikmgly hand
some face and a stately presence. He was picturesque
and perhaps even theatric in his dress and his bear
ing. He looked like a picture ; aU his attitudes and
gestures seemed as if they were meant to be repro
duced by a painter, He was undoubtedly one of the
most eloquent men who ever addressed an EngUsh
popular audience. In one of his imprisonments
Kossuth had studied the EngUsh language chiefly
from the pages of Shakespeare. He had mastered
our tongue as few foreigners have ever been able to
do ; but what he had mastered was not the common
coUoquial EngUsh of the streets and the drawing-
rooms. The EngUsh he spoke was the noblest in its
style from which a student could supply his eloquence:
Kossuth spoke the EngUsh of Shajcespeare. He could
address a pubUc meeting for an hour or more with a
fluency not inferior seemingly to that of Gladstone,
with a measured dignity and weU-restrained force that
were not unworthy of Bright ; and in curiously ex
pressive, stately, powerful, pathetic English which
sounded as if it belonged to a higher time and to loftier
interests than ours. Yiewed as a mere performance

140 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xxn.
the achievement of Kossuth was unique. It may
weU be imagined what the effect was on a popular
audience when such eloquence was poured forth in
glowing eulogy of a cause with which they sympa
thised, and in denunciation of enemies and principles
they detested. It was impossible not to be impressed
by the force of some of the strikmg and dramatic
passages in Kossuth's fervid, half-oriental orations.
He stretched out his right hand and declared that
* the tune was when I held the destmies of the House
of Hapsburg in the hollow of that hand ! ' He
apostrophised those who fought and feU in the rank
and file of Hungary's champions as ' unnamed demi
gods.' He prefaced a denmiciation of the Papal
poUcy Tby an impassioned lament over the brief hopes
that the Pope was about to head the Liberal move
ment Ui Italy, and reminded his hearers that 'there
was a time when the name of Pio Nono, coupled
with that of Louis Kossuth, was thundered in vivas
along the sunny shores of the Adriatic' Every
appeal was vivid and dramatic ; every aUusion told.
Throu2:hout the whole there ran the thread of one
distinct principle of mternational policy to which
Kossuth endeavoured to obtain the assent of the
English people. This was the principle that if one
State intervenes in the domestic affairs of another
for the purpose of putting down revolution, it then
becomes the right, and may even be the duty, of any
third State to throw in the weight of her sword
against the unjustifiable intervention. As a principle
this is nothing more than some of the ablest and

1851. AUSTRIA'S ALARM. 141
most thoughtful Englishmen had advocated before
and have advocated smce. But in Kossuth's mind
and in the understanding of those who heard him,
it meant that England ought to declare war against
Russia or Austria, or both ; the former for having
intervened between the Emperor of Austria and the
Hungarians, and the latter for having invited and
profited by the intervention.
The presence of Kossuth and the reception he
got excited a wUd anger and alarm among Au:strian
statesmen. The Austrian Munster was aU sensitive
ness and remonstrance. The relations between this
country and Austria seemed to become every day
more and more strained. Lord Palmerston regarded
the anger and the fears of Austria with a contempt
which he took no pains to conceal. Before the Hun
garian exUe had reached this country, whUe he was
stUl under the protection of the Sultan of Turkey,
and Austria was in wUd alarm lest he should be set
at liberty and should come to England, Lord Pal
merston -wrote to a British diplomatist saying, ' What
a chUdish, sUly fear this is of Kossuth ! What great
harm could he do to Austria whUe in France or Eng
land ? He would be the hero of half a dozen dinners
in England at which would be made speeches not
more violent than those which have been made on
platforms here within the last four months, and he
would soon sink into comparative obscurity ; whUe
on the other hand, so long as he is a State detenu in.
Turkey he is a martyr and the object of never-ceasing
interest.' . Lord Palmerston understood thoroughly

142 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TBIES. cn. xxir.
the temper of his countrymen in general. The Eng-
lish pubUc never had any serious notion of going to ,
war with Austria in obedience to Kossuth's appeal.
They sympathised generally with Kossuth's cause,
or with the cause which they understood him to
represent ; they were taken with his picturesque
appearance and his really wonderful eloquence ; they
wanted a new hero, and Kossuth seemed positively,
cut out to supply the want. The enthusiasm cooled
d-own after a while, as was indeed inevitable. The
time was not far off when Kossuth was to make
vain appeals to almost empty halls, and when the
eloquence that once could cram the largest buildings
with excited admirers was to call aloud to solitude.
There came a time when Kossuth lived in England
forgotten and unnoticed'; when his passing away
from England was unobserved as his presence there
had long been. There seems, one can hardly help
saying, something cruel in this way of suddenly
taking up the representative of some foreign cause,
the spokesman of some ' mission ' ; and then, when
he has been filled with vain hopes, lettUig him drop
down to disappointment and neglect. It was not
perhaps the fault of the English people if Kossuth
mistook, as many another man m like circumstances
has done, the meanmg of English popular sympathy.
The English crowds who applauded Kossuth at first
meant nothing more than general sympathy with any
hero of Continental revolution, and personal admir
ation for the eloquence of the man who addressed
them. But Kossuth did not thus accept the homage

1851. palmerston's UNCONCERN. 143
paid to him. No foreigner could have understood
it in his place. Lord Palmerston understood it tho
roughly, and knew what it meant, and how long it
would last.
The time, however, had not yet come when the
justice of Lord Palmerston's words was to be estab
lished. Kossuth was the hero of the hour, the comet
of the season. The Austrian statesmen were going
on as if every word spoken at a Kossuth meeting
were a declaration of war against Austria. Lord
Palmerston was disposed to chuckle over the anger
thus displayed. ' Kossuth's reception,' he wrote to
his brother, ' must have been gall and wormwood to
the Austrians and to the absolutists generally,' Some
of Lord Palmerston's colleagues, however, became
greatly alarmed when it was reported that the Foreign
Minister was about to receive a visit from Kossuth
in person to thank him for the sympathy and protec
tion which England had accorded to the Hungarian
refugees whUe they were stUl in Turkey, and without
which it is only too Ukely that they would have been
handed over to Austria or Russia, It was thought
that for the Foreign Secretary to receive a formal
visit of thanks from Kossuth would be regarded by
Austria as a recognition by England of the justice of
Kossuth's cause and an expression of censure against
Austria. If Kossuth were received by Lord Palmer
ston, the Austrian ambassador, it was confidently
reported, would leave England. Lord John RusseU
took alarm, and called a meeting of the Cabinet to
consider the momentous question. Lord Palmerston

144 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xxir.
reluctantly consented to appease the alarms of his
coUeagues by promising to avoid an interview with
Kossuth. It does not seem to us that there was much
dignity in the course taken by the Cabinet. Lord
Palmerston actually used, and very properly used,
all the influence England could command to protect
the Hungarian refugees in Turkey. He had intimated
very distmctly, and with the fuU approval of Eng
land, that he would use stiU stronger measures if
necessary to protect at once the Sultan and the
refugees. It seems to us that, having done this
openly, and compeUed Russia and Austria to bend
to his urgency, there could be Uttle harm in his
receiving a visit from one of the men whom he had
thus protected. Austria's sensibiUties must have
been of a pecuUar nature indeed if they could bear
Lord Palmerston's very distinct and energetic inter
vention between her and her intended victim, but
could not bear to hear that the rescued victim had
paid Lord Palmerston a formal visit of gratitude.
At aU events, it does not seem as if an EngUsh
minister was bound to go greatly out of his way to
concUiate such very eccentric and morbid sensibUities.
We owe to a foreign state with which we are on
friendly terms a strict and honourable jieutraUty.
Our ministers are bound by courtesy, prudence, and
good sense not to obtrude any expression of their
opinion touching the internal dissensions of a foreign
state on the representatives of that state or the pubUc.
But they are not by any means bound to treat the

1851. 'SENSE AND SENSIBILITY.' 145
enemies of every foreign state as our enemies. They
are not expected to conciliate the friendtihip of
Austria, for example, by declaring that anyone who
is dislUied by the Emperor of Austria shall never be
admitted to speech of them. If Kossuth had come as
the professed representative of an established govern
ment, and had sought da official interview with Lord
Palmerston in that capacity, then mdeed it would
have been proper for the English Foreign Secretary
to refuse to receive him. Our mimsters, with perfect
propriety, refused to receive Mr. Mason and Mr,
SUdell, the emissaries of the Southern Confederation,
as official representatives of any state. But it is
absurd to suppose that when the civil war was over
in America an English statesman in office would be
bound to decline recei-ring a visit from Mr. Jefferson
Davis. We know, in fact, that the ex-KUig of Naples,
the ex-King of Hanover, Don Carlos, and the royal
representatives of various lost causes, are constantly
received by English ministers and by the Queen of
England, and no representatives of any of the estab
lished governments would think of offering a remon
strance. If the Emperor of Austria was likely to be
offended by Lord Palmerston's receiving a visit from
Kossuth, the only course for an English minister, as
it seems to us, was to leave him to be offended, and
to recover from his anger whenever he chose to aUow
common sense to resume possession of his mind.
The Queen of England might as weU have taken
offence at the action of the American Government,
vvho actually gave, not merely private receptions, but
VOL. II. L

146 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TBIES. cn. xxn.
pubUc appointments, to Irish refugees after the out
break of 1848.
Lord Palmerston, however, gave way, and did
not receive the visit from Kossuth. The hoped-
for result, that of sparUig the sensibUities of the
Austrian Government, was not attained. In fact,
things turned out a great deal worse than they might
have done if the interview between Lord Palmerston
and Kossuth had been quietly aUowed to come off.
MeetUigs were held to express sympathy with Kos
suth, and addresses were voted to Lord Palmerston
thanking him for the influence he had exerted in
preventing the surrender of' Kossuth to Austria.
Lord Palmerston consented to receive these addresses
from the hands of deputations at the Foreign Office.
The deputations represented certain metropoUtan
parishes, and were the exponents of markedly Radi
cal opinions. Some of the addresses contained strong
language "with reference to the Austrian Government
and the Austrian Sovereign, Lord Palmerston ob
served in his reply that there were expressions con
tained in the addresses with which he could hardly
be expected to concur; but he spoke in a manner
which conveyed the idea that his sympathies gene
rally were with the cause which the deputations had
adopted. This was the speech containmg a phrase
which was identified with Palmerston's name, and
held to be speciaUy characteristic of his way of speak
ing, and indeed of thinking, for many years after,
— in fact to the close of his career. The noble lord
told the deputation that the past crisis was one which

1851. 'JUDICIOUS BOTTLE-HOLDING.' 147
required on the part of the British Government much
generalship and judgment ; and that ' a good deal of
judicious bottle-holding was obliged to be brought
into play.' The phrase, ' bottle-holding,' borrowed
from the prize ring, offended a good many persons
who thought the past crisis far too grave, and the
issues it involved too stern, to be properly described
in language of such levity. But the general pubUc
were amused and delighted by the words, and the
judicious bottle-holder became more of a popular
favourite than ever. Some of the published reports
put this a good deal more strongly than Lord Pal
merston did, or at least than he mtended to do ; and
he always insisted that he said no more to the depu
tations than he had often said in the House of Com
mons ; and that he had expressly declared he could
not concur in some of the expressions contained m
the addresses. StUl, the whole proceeding con
siderably alarmed some of Lord Palmerston's col
leagues, and was regarded with distinct displeasure
by the Queen and Prince Albert. The Queen specially
requested that the matter should be brought before
a Cabinet CouncU. Lord John RusseU accordingly
laid the whole question before his coUeagues, and the
general opinion seemed to be that Lord Palmerston
had acted with want of caution. No formal resolu
tion was adopted. It was thought that the general
expression of opinion from his colleagues and the
known displeasure of the Queen would be enough
to impress the necessity for greater prudence on the
mind of the Foreign Secretary, Lord John Russell,
i2

148 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TBIES. cn. xxn.
in communicating with her Majesty as to the pro
ceedings of the Cabinet Council, expressed a hope
that ' it wiU have its effect upon Lord Palmerston,
to whom Lord John Russell has written urging the
necessity of a guarded conduct in the present very
critical condition of Europe.' This letter was not
written when startling evidence was on its way to
show that the irrepressible Foreign Secretary had
been making a stroke off his own bat again; and
a stroke this time of capital importance in the general
game of European poUtics. The possible indiscretion
of Lord Palmerston's dealings with a deputation or
two from Finsbury and IsUngton became a matter
of little interest when the country was called upon
to consider the propriety of the Foreign Secretary's
dealings with the new ruler of a new state system,
with the author of the coup d'etat.
The news of the coup d'etat took England by sur
prise. A shock went through the whole country.
Never probably was pubUc e^inion more unanimous,
for the hour at least, than m condemnation of the
stroke of poUcy ventured on by Louis Napoleon, and
the savage manner m which it Avas carried to success.
After a wliUe no doubt a considerable portion of the
English pubUc came to look more leniently on what
had been done. Many soon grew accustomed to the
story of the massacres along the Boulevards of Paris
and lost all sense of their horror. Some disposed of
the whole affair after the satisfactory principle so
commonly adopted by English people in judging of
foreign affairs, and assumed that the system intro-

1851. THE COUP D':gTAT. 149
duced by Louis Napoleon was a very good sort of
thing — for the French. After a whUe a certam ad
miration, not to say adulation, of Louis Napoleon,
began to be a kind of faith with many EngUshmen,
and the coup d'etat was condoned and even approved
by them. But there can be no doubt that when the
story first came to be told in England, the almost
universal voice of opinion condemned it as strongly
as nearly all men of genuine enlightenment and feel
ing condemned it then and since. The Queen was
particularly anxious that nothing should be said by
the British ambassador to commit us to any approval
of what had been done. On December 4 the Queen
wrote to Lord John RusseU from Osborne, expressing
her desire that Lord Normanby, our ambassador at
Paris, should be instructed to remain entirely passive
and say no word that might be misconstrued into
approval of the action of the Prince President. The
Cabinet met that same day and decided that it was
expedient to follow most closely her Majesty's instruc
tions. But they decided also, and very properly, that
there was no reason for Lord Normanby suspending
his diplomatic functions. Lord Normanby had in
fact appUed for instructions on this point. Next day
Lord Palmerston, as Foreign Secretary, wrote to Lord
Normanby, informing him that he was to make no
change in his diplomatic relations with the French
Government. Lord Normanby's reply to this despatch
created a startling sensation. Our ambassador "wrote
to say that when he caUed on the French Minister for
Foreign Affairs to inform him that he had been in-

150 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xxir.
structed by her Majesty's Government nOt to make
any change in his relations with the French Govern
ment, the Minister, M. Turgot, told him that he had
heard two days before from Count Walewski, the
French ambassador in London, that Lord Palmerstont
had expressed to him his entire approval of what
Louis Napoleon had done, and his conviction that the
Prince President could not have acted otherwise. . It
would not be easy to exaggerate the sensatiom ¦pro
duced among Lord Palmerston's coUeagues by thisl
astounding piece of news. The Queen wrote at once
to Lord John RusseU, asking him if he knew anythmg
about the approval which ' the French Government
pretend to have received ' ; declaring that she could
not ' believe in the truth of the assertion, as such an
approval given by Lord Palmerston would have been
in complete contradiction to the line of strict neutra-i
Uty and passiveness which the Queen had expressed
her desire to see followed with regard to the late con-'
vulsions at Paris.' Lord John RusseU repUed that
he had already written to Lord Palmerston, ' sayicg?
that he presumed there was no truth in the report.'
The reply of Lord Palmerston was delayed for! what
Lord John RusseU thought an unreasonable length of
time at such a crisis ; but when it came it lefti no
doubt that Lord Palmerston had expressed to Count
Walewski his approval of the coup d'etat. Lord Pal
merston observed mdeed that Walewski had probably
given to M. Turgot a somewhat highly coloured re
port of what he had said, and that the report had lost
nothing in passing from M. Turgot to Lord Nor-?

1851. PALMERSTON APPROVES THE COUP D'ETAT. 151
manby ; but the substance of the letter was a fuU
admission that Lord Palmerston approved of what
had been done, and had expressed his approval to
Count Walewski. The letters of explanation which
the Foreign Minister wrote on the subject, whether to
Lord Normanby or to Lord John Russell, were ela
borate justifications of the coup d'etat ; they were in
fact exactly such arguments as a minister of Louis
Napoleon might with great propriety address to a
foreign Court. They were fuU of an undisguised and
characteristic contempt for anyone who could thuik
otherwise on the subject than as Lord Palmerston
thought. In replying to Lord John Russell the con
tempt was expressed in a quiet sneer ; in the letters
to Lord Normanby it was obtrusively and offensively
put forward. Lord John RusseU in vain endeavoured
to fasten Palmerston's attention on the fact that the
question was not whether the action of Louis Na
poleon was historically justifiable, but whether the
conduct of the EngUsh Foreign ]\IUiister in expressing
approval of it without the knowledge and against the
judgment of the Queen and his coUeagues was poU-
ticaUy justifiable. Lord PaUnerston simply returned
to his defence of Louis Napoleon and his assertion
that the Prince President was only anticipating the
intrigues of the Orleans famUy and the plans of the
Assembly. Lord Palmerston indeed gave a very
minute account of a plot among the Orleans princes
for a military rising against Louis Napoleon. No
evidence of the existence of any such plot has ever
been- discovered, Louis Napoleon never pleaded the

152 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xxir.
existence of such a plot in his own justification ; it
is now, we believe, universally admitted that Lord
Palmerston was for once the victim of a mere canard.
But even if there had been an Orleanist plot, or
twenty Orleanist plots, it never has been part of the
duty or the poUcy of an English Government to
express approval of anything and everything that a
foreign ruler may do to anticipate or put down a plot
against him. The measures may be unjustifiable in
their principle or in their severity ; the plot may
be of insignificant importance, utterly inadequate to
excuse any extraordinary measures. The English
Government is not Ui ordinary cases called upon to
express any oj)inion whatever. It had m this case de
Uberately decided that all expression of opinion should
be scrupulously avoided, lest by any chance the French
Government should be led to believe that England
approved of what had been done.
Lord Palmerston endeavoured to draw a distinc
tion between the expressions of a Foreign Secretary in
conversation with an ambassador, and a formal decla
ration of opinion. But it is clear that the French
ambassador did not understand Lord PaUnerston to
be merely indulging in the irresponsible gossip of
private life, and that Lord Palmerston never said a
word to impress him with the belief that their con
versation had that colourless and unmeaning cha
racter. In any case it was surely a piece of singular
indiscretion on the part of a Foreign Minister to give
to the French ambassador, even in private conversa
tion, an unqualified opinion in favour of a stroke of

1651. ' OUR BRITAIN CANNOT SALVE A TYRANT O'ER.' 153
policy of which the British Government as a whole,
and indeed with the one exception of Lord Palmer
ston, entirely disapproved. To give such an opinion
without qualification or explanation was to mislead
the French ambassador in the grossest manner and
to send him away, as in fact he was sent, under the
impression that the conduct of his chief had the
approval of the Sovereign aiid Government of Eng
land. Let it be remembered further that the Foreign
Secretary who did this had been again and agam re
buked for acting on his own responsibUity, for saying
and doing things which pledged, or seemed to pledge,
the responsibility of the Government without any
authority, that a formal threat of dismissal actually
hung over his head in the event of his repeating such
mdiscretions ; and we shall be better able to form some
idea of the sensation which was created in England by
the revelation of Lord Palmerston's conduct. Many
of his colleagues had cordially sympathised with his
views on the occasion of former indiscretions ; and
even whUe admitting that he had been indiscreet, yet
acknowledged to themselves that their opinion on the
broad question involved was not different from his.
But even these drew back from any approval of his
conduct in regard to the coup d'etat. The almost
universal judgment was that he had gone surprisingly
wrong. Not a few, finding it impossible to account
otherwise for such a proceeding, came to the conclu
sion that he must have been determined somehow to
bring about a rupture with his colleagues of the Ca
binet, and had chosen this high-handed assertion of

154 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xxir.
his wUl as the best means of flinging his defiance in
their teeth.
Lord John RusseU made up his mind. He came
to the conclusion that he could no longer go on "with
Lord Palmerston as a colleague in the Foreign Office,
and he signified his decision to Lord Palmerston him
self. 'WhUe I concur,' thus Lord John RusseU
wrote, ' in the foreign policy of which you have been
the adviser, and much as I admire the energy and
abUity with which it has been carried into effect, I
cannot but observe that misunderstandings perpetually
renewed, violations of prudence and decorum too fre
quently repeated, have marred the effects which ought
to have foUowed from a sound poUcy and able admi
nistration. I am therefore most reluctantly compeUed
to come to the conclusion that the conduct of foreign
affairs can no longer be left in your hands "with ad
vantage to the country.' Rather unfortunately. Lord
John Russell endeavoured to soften the blow by offer
ing, if Lord Palmerston should be wUling, to recom
mend him to the Queen to fill the office of Lord-
Lieutenant of Ireland. This was a proposal which
we agree "with Mr. Evelyn Ashley, Lord Palmerston's
biographer, in regardmg as almost comical in its
character. Lord Palmerston's whole soul was tn
foreign affairs. He had never affected any particular
interest in Irish business. He cared little even for
the home politics of England; it was out of the
question to suppose that he would consent to bury
himself in the Viceregal Court of Dublin and occupy
his diplomatic talents in composing disputes for

1851. PALMERSTON'S DISMISSAL. 155
precedence between Protestant deans and Catholic
bishops, and in dolmg out the due proportion of Ui-
vitations to the various Tanks of aspirmg traders and
shopkeepers and their wives. Lord Palmerston de
clined the offer with open contempt, and indeed it can
hardly be supposed for a moment that Lord John
Russell expected he would have seriously entertained
it. The quarrel was complete ; Lord Palmerston
ceased for the time to be Foreign Secretary, and hia
place was taken by Lord GranvUle.
Seldom has a greater sensation been produced by
the removal of a minister. The effect which was
created aU over Europe was probably just what Lord
Palmerston himself would have desired ; the belief
prevaUed everywhere that he had been sacrificed to
the monarchical and reactionary influences all over the
Continent. The statesmen of Europe were under the
impression that Lord Palmerston was put out of
office as an evidence that England was about to with
draw from her former attitude of sympathy with the
popular movements, of the Continent. Lord Palmer
ston himself feU under a delusion, which seems
marveUous in a man possessed of his clear, strong
common sense. He conceived that he had been
sacrificed to reactionary intrigue. He wrote to his
brother to say that the real ground for his dismissal
was a 'weak truckling to the hostile mtrigues of the
Orleans famUy, Austria, Russia, Saxony, and Bavaria,
and in some degree of the present Prussian Govern
ment.' ' All these parties,' he said, ' found their re
spective views and systems of policy thwarted by the

156 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xxir.
course pursued by the British Government, and they
thought that if they could remove the minister they
would change the policy. They had for a long time
past effectually poisoned the mind of the Queen and
Prince agamst me, and John Russell giving way
rather encouraged than discountenanced the desire of
the Queen to remove me from the Foreign Office.'
So strongly did the idea prevaU that an intrigue of
foreign diplomatists had overthrown Palmerston, that
the Russian ambassador. Baron Brunnow, took the
very ill-advised step of addressing to Lord John
Russell a disclaimer of any participation in such a
proceeding. The Queen made a proper comment on
the letter of Baron Brunnow by describmg it as
'very presu.ming,' inasmuch as it insinuated the
possibUity ' of changes of governments in this
country takmg place at the instigation of foreign
ministers.' Lord Palmerston was of course entirely
mistaken in supposing that any foreign interference
had contributed to his removal from the Foreign
Office. The only wonder is how a man so ex
perienced as he could have convinced himself of such
a thing ; at least, it would be a wonder if one did
not know that the most experienced author or artist
can always persuade himself that a disparaging critique
is the result of personal and malignant hostUity.
But that the feeling of the Queen and the Prince had
long been against him can hardly admit of dispute.
Prince Albert seems not to have taken any pains
to conceal his dislike and distrust of Palmerston.
Nearly two years before, when the French ambassador

1851-2. HOSTILITY OF THE COURT. 157
was recalled for a time, the Prmce wrote to Lord
John RusseU to say that both the Queen and him
self were exceedingly sorry to hear of the recall ;
adding, 'We are not surprised, however, that Lord
Palmerston's mode of doing business should not be
borne by the susceptible French Government with
the same good-humour and forbearance as by his
colleagues.' At the moment when Lord John Rus
sell resolved on getting rid of Lord Palmerston,
Prince Albert wrote to him to say that 'the sudden
termination of your difference with Lord Palmerston
has taken us much by surprise, as we were wont to
see such differences terminate in his carrying his
points, and leaving the defence of them to his col
leagues, and the discredit to the Queen.' It is clear
from this letter alone that the Court was set against
Lord Palmerston at that time. The Court was sorne-
times right where Palmerston was wrong ; but the fact
that he then knew himself to be in antagonism to the
Court is of importance both Ui judging of his career
and in estimating the relative strength of forces ia
the politics of England.
Lord Palmerston then was dismissed. The
meeting of Parliament took place on the 3rd of
February foUo-wing, 1852. It would be superfluous
to say that the keenest anxiety was felt to know the
fuU reasons of the sudden dismissal. To quote the
words used by Mr. Roebuck, ' The most marked
person in the Administration, he around whom all
the party battles of the Administration had been
fought, whose political existence had been made the

158 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES, cn. xxir.
political existence of the Governmient itself, the
person on whose being in office the Government
rested their existence as a government, was dis
missed ; their right hand was cut off, their most
powerful arm was taken away, and at the critical
time when it was most needed.' The House of Com
mons was not long left to wait for an explanation.
Lord John RusseU made a long speech, in which he
went into the whole history of the differences between
Lord Palmerston and his colleagues ; and, what was
more surprising to the House, into a history of the
late Foreign Secretary's differences with his Sove
reign, and the threat of dismissal which had so long
been hanerino; over his head. The Prime Minister
read to the House the Queen's memorandum, which
we have already quoted. Lord John RusseU's speech
was a great success. Lord Palmerston's was, even in
the estimation of his closest friends, a faUure, Far
different, mdeed, was the effect it produced from the
almost magical influence of that wonderful speech on
the ' Don Pacifico ' question, which had compelled
even unconvinced opponents to genuine admiration,
Palmerston seemed to have practically no defence.
He only went over again the points put by him in
the correspondence already noticed ; contended that
on the whole he had judged rightly of the French
crisis, and that he could not help forming an opinion
on it, and so forth. Of the Queen's memorandum he
said nothing. He did not even attempt to explain
how it came about that, having received so distinct
and severe an injunction, he had ventured deUberately

1852. THE READING OF THE MEMORANDUM. 159
to disregard it in a matter of the greatest national im
portance. Some of his admirers were of opinion then
and long after that the reading of the memorandum
must have come on him by surprise ; that Lord John
Russell must have sprung a mme upon him ; and that
Palmerston was taken unfaUly and at a disadvantage.
But it is certain that Lord John Russell gave notice
to his late colleague of his intention to read the
memorandum of the Queen. Besides, Lord Palmer
ston was one of the most ready and self-possessed
speakers that ever addressed the House of Commons.
During the very reading of the memorandum he
could have found time to arrange his ideas, and to
make out some show of a case for himself The truth,
we beUeve, is that Lord Palmerston deliberately de
clined to make any reply to that part of Lord John
RusseU's speech which disclosed the letter from the
Queen. He made up his mind that a dispute between
a sovereign and a subject would be unbecoming of
both ; and he passed over the memorandum in deli
berate sUence. He doubtless felt convinced that, even
though such discretion involved him for the moment
in seeming defeat, it would in the long run reckon to
his credit and his advantage. Lord Dalling, better
known as Sir Henry Bulwer, was present during the
debate, and formed an opinion of Palmerston's con
duct which seems in every way correct and far-seeing.
'I must say,' Lord Dalling writes, 'that I never
admired him so much as at this crisis. He evidently
thought he had been Ul-treated ; but I never heard
him make an unfair or irritable remark, nor did he

160 A HISTORY OF OUR 0"WN TIMES. cn. xxrr.
seem in anywise stunned by the blow he had received,
or dismayed by the isolated position in which he
stood. I should say that he seemed to consider that
he had a quarrel put upon him which it was his
wisest course to close by receiving the fire of his
adversary and not returning it. He could not in fact
have gained a victory against the Premier on the
ground which Lord John Russell had chosen for the
combat, which would not have been more permanently
disadvantageous to him than a defeat. The faults of
which he had been accused did not touch his own
honour nor that of his country. Let them be ad
mitted and there was an end of the matter. By and by
an occasion would probably arise, in which he might
choose an advantageous occasion for giving battle,
and he was willing to wait calmly for that occasion.'
Lord Dalling judged accurately so far as his
judgment went. But whUe we agree "with him in
thinking that Lord Palmerston refrained from re
turning his adversary's fire for . the reasons Lord
DaUing has given, we are strongly of opinion that
other reasons too Uofluenced Palmerston. He knew
that he was not at that time much lUced or trusted
by the Queen and Prince Albert. He was not sorry
that the fact should be made known to the world.
He thoroughly understood EngUsh public opinion
and was not above taking advantage of its moods
and its prejudices. He did not think a statesman
would stand any the worse in the general estimation
of the English public then because it was kno"wn that
he was not admired by Prince Albert.

1852. 'THERE WAS A PALMERSTON.' 161
But the almost universal opinion of the House of
Commons and of the clubs was that Lord Palmer
ston's career was closed. ' Palmerston is smashed ! '
was the common saying of the clubs. A night or
two after the debate Lord Dalling met Mr. Disraeli
on the staircase of the Russian Embassy, and Disraeli
remarked to him that ' there was a Palmerston.'
Lord Palmerston evidently did not think so.
The letters he wrote to friends immediately after
his faU show him as jaunty and fuU of confidence
as ever. He was quite satisfied with the way things
had gone. He waited calmly for what he called a
few days afterwards, ' My tit-for-tat with John Rus
seU,' which came about indeed sooner than even he
himself could well have expected.
We have not hesitated to express our opinion
that throughout the whole of this particular dispute
liOrd Palmerston was in the wrong. He was in the
wrong in many, if not most, of the controversies
which had preceded it. That. is to say, he was wrong
in committing England, as he so often did, to
measures which had not had the approval of the Sove
reign or his coUeagues. In the memorable dispute
which brought matters to a crisis he seems to us to
have been in the wrong not less in what he did than
in his manner of doing it. Yet it ought not to have
been difficult for a calm observer even at the time
to see that Lord Palmerston was Ukely to have the
best of the controversy in the end. The faults of
which he was principally accused were not such as the
English people would find it very hard to forgive.
VOL. II. M

162 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xxn.
He 'was said to be too brusque and high-handed in
Jiis dealings with foreign states and ministers ; but it
did not seem to the English people in general as if
this was an offence for which his own countrymen
were bound to condemn him too severely. There
was a general impression that his influence was
exercised on behalf of popular movements abroad ;
and an impression nearly as general that if he had
not acted a good deal on his o-wn impulses and of
his own authority he could hardly have served any
popular cause so well. The coup d'etat certainly was
not popular in England. For a long time it was a
subject of general reprehension ; but even at that
time men who condemned the coup dletat were not
disposed to condemn Lord Palmerston over-much be
cause, acting as usual on a personal impulse, he had
in that instance made a mistake. There was even in
his error something dashing, sho"wy, and captivating
to the general public. He made the influence of
England felt, people said. His chief fault was that
he was rather too strong for those around him. If
any grave crisis came, he, it was murmured, and he
alone, would be equal to the occasion and would
mamtain the dignity of England. Neither in war
nor in statesmanship does a man suffer much loss
of popularity by occasionally disobeying orders and
accomplishing darmg feats. Lord Palmerston saw
his way clearly at a critical period of his career. He
saw that at that time there was, rightly or wrongly,
a certain jealousy of the influence of Prince Albert,
and he did not hesitate to take advantage of the fact.

1852, DEFEATED, NOT DISMAYED. 163
He bore his temporary disgrace with well-justified
composure. ' The devU aids him surely,' says Sussex,
speaking to Raleigh of Leicester in Scott's 'KenU
worth,' 'for aU that would sink another ten fathom
deep seems but to make him float the more easUy.'
Some rival may have thought thus of Lord Pal
merston.

K 2

164 A HISTORY OF OUE OWN TIMES. cn. xxm.

CHAPTER XXIII.
BIRTH OF THE ESCPIEE ; DEATH OF * THE DTJKE.*
The year 1852 was one of profound emotion, and
even excitement, in England. An able "writer has
remarked that the history of the Continent of Europe
might be traced through the history of England, if
aU other sources of information were destroyed, by
the influence which every great event in Continental
affairs produces on the mood and poUcy of England.
As the astronomer infers the existence and the attri
butes of some star his keenest glass "wUl not reveal
by the perturbations its neighbourhood causes to
some body of Ught "within his ken, so the student
of EngUsh history might weU discover commo
tion on the Continent by the evidence of a corre
sponding movement in England. All through the
year 1852 the national mind of England was dis
turbed. The country was stirring itself in quite an
unusual manner. A mUitary spirit was exhibiting
itself everywhere, not unlike that told of in Shake
speare's ' Henry the Fourth.' The England of 1852
seems to threaten that ' ere this year expire we bear
our civU swords and native fire as far as France.' At
least the civU swords were sharpened in order that
the country might be ready for a possible and even

1852-59. 'FORM, FORM, RH^LEMEN, FORM!' 165
an anticipated invasion from France. The Volunteer
movement sprang into sudden existence. AU over the
country corps of young volunteers were being formed.
An immense amount of national enthusiasm accom
panied and acclaimed the formation of the volunteer
army, which received the sanction of the Cro"WQ
early in the year, and thus became a national insti
tution. The meaning of aU this movement was explained
some years after by Mr. Tennyson, in a string of
verses which did more honour perhaps to his patriotic
feeling than to his poetic genius. The verses are
absurdly unworthy of Tennyson as a poet ; but they
express "with unmistakeable clearness the popular sen
timent of the hour ; the condition of uncertainty,
vague alarm, and very general determination to be
ready at aU events for whatever might come, ' Form,
form, riflemen, form,' wrote the Laureate ; ' better 9
rotten borough or two than a rotten fleet and a towii
in flames.' ' True that we have a faithful aUy, but
only the devU knows what he means.' This was the
alarm and the explanation. We had a faithful ally,
no doubt ; but we certainly did not quite know what
he meant. AU the earUer part of the year had "wit
nessed the steady progress of the Prince President of
France to an imperial throne. The previous year had
closed upon his coup d'etat. He had arrested, impri
soned, banished, or shot his principal enemies, and
had demanded from the French people a Presidency
for ten years, a Ministry responsible to the executive
power — himself alone— and two poUtical Chambers to

166 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TEVIES. cn. xxm.
be elected by universal suffrage. Nearly five himdred
prisoners, untried before any tribunal, even that of a
drum-head, had been shipped off to Cayenne. The
streets of Paris had been soaked in blood. The Pre
sident instituted a plebiscite, or vote of the whole
people, and of course he got all he asked for. There
was no arguing with the commander of twenty legions,
and of such legions as those that had operated "with
terrible efficiency on the Boulevards. The first. day
of the new year saw the reUgious- ceremony at Notre
Dame to celebrate the acceptance of the ten years'
presidency by Louis Napoleon. The same day a
decree was published in the name of the President
declaring that the French eagle should be restored to
the standards of the army, as a symbol of the rege
nerated miUtary genius of France. A few days after,
the Prince President decreed the confiscation of the
property of the Orleans famUy and restored titles of
nobUity in France. The birthday of the Emperor
Napoleon was declared by decree to be the only na
tional hoUday. When the two legislative bodies came
to be sworn in, the President made an announcement
which certainly did not surprise many persons, but
which nevertheless sent a thriU abroad over aU parts
of Europe. If hostUe parties continued to plot against
him, the President intunated, and to question the
legitimacy of the power he had assumed by virtue
of the national vote, then it might be necessary to
demand from the people, in. the name of the repose of
France, ' a new title which wUl irrevocably fix upon
my head the power "with which they have invested

1852. 'THE EMPIRE IS PEACE.' 167
me.' There could be no further doubt. The Bona-
partist Empire was to be restored. A new Napoleon
was to come to the throne.
' Only the devU knows what he means ' indeed.
So people were aU saying throughout England in
1852. The scheme went on to its development, and
before the year was quite out Louis Napoleon was
proclaimed Emperor of the French. Men had noticed
as a curious, not to say ominous, coincidence that on
the very day when the Duke of WeUington died the
Moniteur announced that the French people were
receiving the Prince President, everywhere as the
Emperor-elect and as the elect of God ; and another
French journal pubUshed an article hinting not ob-i
scurely at the invasion and conquest of England as
the first great duty of a new Napoleonic Empire.
The Prince President indeed, in one of the provincial
speeches which he delivered just before he was pro
claimed Emperor, had talked earnestly of peace. In
his famous speech to the Chamber of Commerce of
Bordeaux on October 9, he denied that the restored
Empire would mean war. ' I say,' he declared, raising
his voice and speaking with energy and emphasis,
' the Empire is peace.^ But the assurance did not do
much to satisfy Europe. Had not the same voice,
it was asked, declaimed "with equal energy and earnest
ness the terms of the oath to the RepubUcan Con
stitution? Never, said a bitter enemy of the new
Empire, believe the word of a Bonaparte, unless when
he promises to kUl somebody. Such was indeed the
common sentiment of a large number of the EngUsh

168 A IHSTORY OF OUR OWN TBIES. cn. xxia
people during the eventful year when the President
became Emperor, and Prince Louis Napoleon was
Napoleon the Third.
It would have been impossible that the EngUsh
people could view all this without emotion and alarm.
It had been clearly seen how the Prince President had
carried his point thus far. He had appealed at every
step to the memory of the Napoleonic legend. He
had in every possible way revived and reproduced the
attributes of the reign of the Great Emperor. Hia
accession to power was strictly a miUtary and a
Napoleonic triumph. In ordinary circumstances the
English people would not have troubled themselves
much about any change in the form of government
of a foreign country. They might have felt a strong
dislike for the manner in which such a change had
been brought about ; but it would have been in no
wise a matter of personal concern to them. But they
could not see with indifference the rise of a new
Napoleon to power on the strength of the old Napo
leonic legend. The one special characteristic of the
Napoleonic principle was its hostility to England.
The Ufe of the Great Napoleon in its greatest days
had been devoted to the one purpose of humiUating
England. His plans had been foUed by England.
Whatever hands may have joined in pressing him to
the ground, there could be no doubt that he owed his
fall principally to England. He died a prisoner of
England, and with his hatred of her embittered rather
than appeased. It did not seem unreasonable to beUeve
that the successor who had been enabled to mount

1852. LOUIS NAPOLEON THE IDIOT. 169
the Imperial throne simply because he bore the name
and represented the principles of the First Napoleon
would inherit the hatred to England and the designs
against England. Everything else that savoured of
the Napoleonic era had been revived ; why should
this, its principal characteristic, be allowed to lie in
the tomb of the First Emperor ? The policy of the
First Napoleon had lighted up a fire of hatred between
England and France which at one time seemed inex
tinguishable. There were laajij who regarded that
international hate as something like that of the
hostile brothers in the classic story, the very flames
of whose funeral pUes refused to mingle in the air ;
or like that of the rival Scottish famUies, whose
blood it was said, would never commingle though
poured into one dish. It did not seem possible that
a new Emperor Napoleon could arise without bring
ing a restoration of that hatred along with him.
There were some personal reasons, too, for par
ticular distrust of the upcoming Emperor among the
EngUsh people. Louis Napoleon had lived many
years in England. He was as well kno-wn there as
any prominent member of the English aristocracy.
He went a good deal into very various society, lite
rary, artistic, merely fashionable, purely rowdy, as
weU as into that political society which might have
seemed natural to him. In all circles the same
opinion appears to have been formed of him. From
the astute Lord Palmerston to the most ignorant of
the horse-jockeys and ballet-girls with whom he occa
sionally consorted, aU who met him seemed to think

170 A HISTORY OF 0"^:R OWN TIMES. cn. xxnr.
of the Prince in much the same way. It was agreed
on aU hands that he was a fatuous, dreamy, moony,
impracticable, stupid young man. A sort of stolid
amiabiUty, not enlightened enough to keep him out
of low company and questionable conduct, appeared
to be his principal characteristic. He constantly
talked of his expected accession somehow and some
tune to the throne of France, and people only smUed
pityingly at him. His attempts at Strasburg and
Boulogne had covered him "with ridicule and con
tempt. We cannot remember one authentic account
of any Englishman of mark at that time ha"ving
professed to see any e"ridence of capacity and strength
of mind in Prince Louis Napoleon.
When the coup d'etat came and was successful,
the amazement of the English public was unbounded.
Never had any plot been more skUfuUy and more
carefuUy planned ; more daringly carried out. Here
evidently was a master in the art of conspiracy.
Here was the combination of steady caution and
boundless audacity. What a subtlety of design ;
what a perfection of sUent self-control ! How slowly
the plan had been matured ; how suddenly it was
flashed upon the world and carried to success. No
haste ; no delay ; no scruple, no remorse, no fear !
And aU this was the work of the dull dawdler of
English drawing-rooms, the heavy, apathetic, un
moral rather than immoral haunter of English race
courses and gambling houses! What new surprise
might not be feared, what subtle and daring enter
prise might not reasonably be expected from one

1852. LOUIS NAPOLEON TIIE STATESMAN. 171
who could thus conceal and thus reveal hunself, and
do both with a like success !
Louis Napoleon, said a member of his family,
deceived Europe twice : first when he succeeded in
passing off as an idiot, and next when he succeeded
in passmg off as a statesman. The epigram had
doubtless a great deal of truth in it. The coup d'etat
was probably neither planned nor carried to success
by the cleverness and energy of Louis Napoleon.
Cooler and stronger heads and hands are responsible
for the execution at least of that enterprise. The
Prince, it is Ukely, played little more than a passive
part in it, and might have lost his nerve more than
once but for the greater resolution of some of his
associates, who were determined to crown him for
their own sakes as well as for his. But at the
time the world at large saw only Louis Napoleon
in the whole scheme, conception, execution, and all.
The idea was formed of a colossal figure of cunning
and daring — a Brutus, a Talleyrand, a Philip of
Spain, and a Napoleon the First all in one. Those
who detested him most admired and feared him
not the least. Who can doubt, it was asked, that
he wUl endeavour to make himself the heir of the
revenges of Napoleon? Who can believe any pledges
he may give ? How enter into any treaty or bond
of any kind "with such a man ? Where is the one
that can pretend to say he sees through him and
understands his schemes ?
Had Louis Napoleon any intention at any time of
invading England ? We are inclined to believe that

172 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xxiir.
he never had a regular fixed plan of the kind. But
we are also inclined to think that the project entered
into his mind with various other ideas and plans more
or less vague ; and that circumstances might have
developed it into an actual scheme. Louis Napoleon
was above aU things a man of ideas in the inferior
sense of the word ; that is to say, he was always
occupying himself with vague, dreamy suggestions
of plans that might in this, that, or the other case
be advantageously pursued. He had come to power
probably with the determination to keep it and make
himself acceptable to France first of all. After this
came doubtless the sincere desire to make France
great and powerful and prosperous. At first he had
no particular notion of the way to estabUsh himseK
as a popular ruler, and it is certain that he turned
over aU manner of plans in his mind for the purpose.
Among these must certainly have been one for the
invasion of England and the avenging of Waterloo.
He let drop hints at times which showed that he was
thinking of something of the kind. He talked of
himself as representing a defeat. He was attacked
with aU the bitterness of a not unnatural but very
unrestrained animosity in the English press for his
conduct in the coup d'etat ; and no doubt he and
his companions were greatly exasperated. The mood
of a large portion of the French people was distinctly
aggressive. Ashamed to some degree of much that
had been done and that they had had to suffer, many
Frenchmen were in that state of dissatisfaction "with
themselves which makes people eager to pick a

1852. THE INVASION OF ENGLAND. 173
quarrel with someone else. Had Louis Napoleon
been inclined, he might doubtless have easUy stUred
his people to the war mood ; and it is not to be
believed that he did not occasionally contemplate
the expediency of doing something of ' the kind.
Assuredly, if he had thought such an enterprise
necessary to the stabUity of his reign, he would have
risked even a war with England. But it would not
have been tried except as a last resource ; and the
need did not arise. No one could have known better
the risks of such an attempt. He knew England
as his uncle never did ; and if he had not his
uncle's energy or miUtary genius, he had far more
knowledge of the world and of the relative re
sources and capabUities of nations. He would not
have done anything rash without great necessity or
the prospect of very certain benefit in the event of
success. An invasion of England was iiot, therefore, a
likely event. Looking back composedly now on
what actually did happen, we may safely say that few
things were less likely. But it was not by any means
an impossible event. The more composedly one
looks back to it now, the more he wUl be compelled
to admit that it was at least on the cards. . The
feeling of national uneasiness and alarm was not
a mere panic. There were five projects with which
pubhc opinion aU over Europe speciaUy credited
Louis Napoleon when he began his imperial reign.
One was a war with Russia. Another was a war
with Austria. A third was a war with Prussia. A

174 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xxrii.
fourth was the annexation of Belgium. The fifth
was the invasion of England. Three of these pro
jects were carried out. The fourth we know was in
contemplation. Our combination with France in the
first project probably put all serious thought of the
fifth out of the head of the French Emperor. He got
far more prestige out of an alUance with us than he
could ever have got out of any quarrel with us ; and
he had little or no risk. We do not count for any
thing the repeated assurances of Louis Napoleon that
he desired above all things to be on friendly terms
with England. These assurances were doubtless sin
cere at the moment when they were made, and under
the circumstances of that moment. But altered cir
cumstances might at any time have induced an
altered frame of mind. The very same assurances
were made again and again to Russia, to Austria and
to Prussia. The pledge that the Empire was peace
was addressed, like the Pope's edict, urbi et orbi.
Therefore we do not look upon the mood of Eng
land in 1852 as one of idle and baseless panic. The
same feeling broke into life again in 1859, when
the Emperor of the French suddenly announced his
determination to go to war with Austria. It was in
this latter period indeed that the Volunteer movement
became a great national organisation, and that the
Laureate did his best to rouse it into acti"nty in
the verses of hardly doubtful merit to which we have
already referred. But in 1852 the beginning of an
army of volunteers was made ; and what is of more
importance to the immediate business of our history,

1852, THE MiLITIA BILL. 175
the Government determined to bring in a biU for the
reorganisation of the national mUitia,
Our mUitia was not in any case a body to be
particularly proud of at that time. It had faUen in
to decay, and almost into disorganisation. Nothing
could have been a more proper work for any Govern
ment than its restoration to efficiency and respect
ability. Nothing, too, could have been more timely
than a measure to make it efficient in view of the
altered condition of European affairs and the increased
danger of disturbance at home and abroad. We had
on our hands at the time, too, one of our little wars
—a Caffre war, which was protracted to a vexatious
length, and which was not without serious mUitary
difficulty. It began in the December of 1850, and
was not completely disposed of before the early part
of 1853, We could not, therefore, afford to have
our defences in any defective condition, and no labour
was more fairly incumbent on a Government than the
task of making them adequate to their purpose. But
it was an unfortunate characteristic of Lord John
RusseU's Government that it attempted so much
legislation, not because some particular scheme com
mended itself to the mature wisdom of the Ministry,
but because something had to be done in a hurry to
satisfy public opinion; and the Government could
not think of anything better at the moment than the
first scheme that came to hand. Lord John RusseU
accordingly introduced a MiUtia BUl, which was in
the highest degree inadequate and unsatisfactory.
The principal peculiarity of it was that it proposed

176 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TBIES. cn. xxm.
to substitute a local mUitia for the regular force that
had been in existence. Lord Palmerston saw great
objections to this alteration, and urged them "with
much briskness and skUl on the night when Lord
John RusseU explained his measure. When Palmer
ston began his speech, he probably intended to be
merely critical as regarded points in the measure
which were susceptible of amendment; but as he
went on he found more and more that he had the
House with him. Every objection he made, every
criticism he urged, almost every sentence he spoke
drew down increasing cheers. Lord Palmerston saw
that the House was not only thoroughly "with him
on this ground, but thoroughly against the Govern
ment on various grounds. A few nights after he
foUowed up his first success by proposing a resolution
to substitute the word ' regular ' for the word ' local '
in the biU ; thus, in fact, to reconstruct the bUl on
an entirely different principle from that adopted by
its framer. The effort was successful. The Peelites
went "with Palmerston ; the Protectionists foUowed
him as weU ; and the result was that 136 votes
were given for the amendment, and only 125 against
it. The Government were defeated by a majority of
eleven. Lord John RusseU instantly announced that
he could no longer continue in office, as he did not
"possess the confidence of the country.
The announcement took the House by surprise.
Lord Palmerston had not himself expected any such
result from his resolution. There was no reason why
the Government should not have amended their bill

1852. THE TIT-FOR-TAT WITH JOHN RUSSELL. 177
on the basis of the resolution passed by the House.
The country wanted a scheme of efficient defence,
and the Government were only caUed upon to make
their scheme efficient. But Lord John Russell was
well aware that his Administration had been losing
its authority Uttle by little. Since the time when it
had returned to power, simply because no one could
form a Ministry any stronger than itself, it had been
only a Government on sufferance. Ministers who
assume office in that stopgap way seldom retain it
long in England. The Gladstone Government Ulus
trated this fact in 1873, when they consented to
return to office because Mr. Disraeli was not then
in a condition to come m, and were dismissed by an
overwhelming majority at the elections in the follow
ing spring. Lord Palmerston assigned one special
reason for Lord John RusseU's promptness in resign
ing on the change m the MUitia BUl. The great
motive for the step was, according to Palmerston,
' the fear of being defeated on the vote of censure
about the Cape affairs, which was to have been
moved to-day; as it is, the late Government have
gone out on a question which they have treated
as a motion, merely asserting that they had lost the
confidence of the House ; whereas, if they had gone
out on a defeat upon the motion about the Cape, they
would have carried "with them the direct censure of
the House of Commons.' The letter from Lord
Palmerston to his brother, from which these words
are quoted, begins "with a remarkable sentence: 'I
have had my tit-for-tat with John RusseU, and I
VOL. II. N

178 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. ch. xxiir.
tumed him out on Friday last.' Palmerston did not
expect any such result, he declared ; but the revenge
was doubtless sweet for aU that. This was in Febru
ary 1852 ; and it was only in the December of the
previous year that Lord Palmerston was compeUed
to leave the Foreign Office by Lord John RusseU.
The same influence, oddly enough, was the indirect
cause of both events. Lord Palmerston lost his
place because of his recognition of Louis Napoleon ;
Lord John RusseU feU from power whUe endeavour
ing to introduce a measure suggested by Louis Napo
leon's successful usurpation. It "wiU be seen in a
future chapter how the influence of Louis Napoleon
was once again fatal to each statesman in turn.
The RusseU Ministry had done little and initiated
less. It had carried on Peel's system by thro"wing
open the markets to foreign as weU as colonial sugar,
and by the repeal of the Navigation Laws enabled
merchants to employ foreign ships and seamen in the
conveyance of their goods. It had made a mUd and
ineffectual effort at a Reform BUl, and had feebly
favoured attempts to admit Jews to Parliament. It
sank from power with an unexpected collapse in
which the nation felt smaU concern.
Lord Palmerston did not come to power agaia
at that moment. He might have gone in with Lord
Derby if he had been so inclined. But Lord Derby,
who, it may be said, had succeeded to that title on
the death of his father in the preceding year, stiU
talked of testing the policy of Free Trade at a general
election, and of course Palmerston was not disposed

1852, LORD derby's ADHERENTS. 179
to have anything to do with such a proposition.
Nor had Palmerston in any case much inclmation to
serve under Derby, of whose political intelUgence he
thought poorly, and whom he regarded principally
as what he caUed.'a flashy speaker.' Lord Derby
tried various combinations in vain, and at last had to
experiment with a Cabinet of undiluted Protection-
.ists. He had to take office, not because he wanted
it, or because anyone in particular wanted him ; but
simply and solely because there was no else who
could undertake the task. He formed a Cabinet to
carry on the business of the country for the moment
and untU it should be convenient to have a general
election, when he fondly hoped that by some inex-
pUcable process a Protectionist reaction would be
brought about, and he should find himself at the
head of a strong administration.
The Ministry which Lord Derby was able to
form was not a strong one. Lord Palmerston de
scribed it as containing two men of mark, Derby and
DisraeU, and a number of ciphers. It had not,
except for these two, a single man of any political
ability, and had hardly one of any political experience.
It had an able laAvyer for Lord ChanceUor, Lord
St. Leonards, but he was nothing of a politician.
The rest of the members of the Government were
respectable country gentlemen. One of them, Mr,
Herries, had been Chancellor of the Exchequer in
a short-lived Government, that of Lord Goderich,
in 1827 ; and he had held the office of Secretary of
War for a few months some time later. He was for-
s 2

180 A inSTORY' OF OUR OWN TBIES. cn. xxnr.
gotten by the existmg generation of poUticians, and
the general public only knew that he was stUl Uvmg
when they heard of his accession to Lord Derby's
Government. The Earl of Malmesbury, Sir John
Pakington, Mr. Walpole, Mr. Henley, and the rest,
were men whose antecedents scarcely gave them
warrant for any higher claim m public life than
the position of chairman of quarter sessions ; nor did
their subsequent career in office contribute much to
establish a loftier estimate of their capacity. The
head of the Govemment was remarkable for his
dashing blunders as a politician, quite as much as for
his dashing eloquence. His new lieutenant, Mr.
DisraeU, had in former days christened him very
happUy, 'the Rupert of Debate,' after that fiery
and gallant prince whose blunders generaUy lost
the battles which his headlong courage had nearly
won. Concerning Mr. DisraeU himself it is not too
much to say that many of his 0"wn party were rather
more afraid of his gemus than of the dullness of
any of his colleagues. It is not a pleasant task in the
best of circumstances to be at the head of a tolerated
Ministry in the House of Commons : a Ministry
which is in a minority and only holds its place
because there is no one ready to relieve it of the re
sponsibility of office. Mr. Disraeli himself, at a
much later date, gave the House of Commons an
amusing picture of the trials and humiliations which
await the leader of such a forlorn hope. He had now
to assume that position without any previous expe-

1852. 'THE WHO? WHO? MINISTRY.' 181
rience of office. Rarely indeed is the leadership of
the House of Commons undertaken by anyone who
has not previously held office; and Mr. Disraeli
entered upon leadership and office at the same
moment for the first time. He became ChanceUor of
the Exchequer and leader of the House of Commons.
Among the many gifts with which he was accredited
by fame, not a single admirer had hitherto dreame! I
of including a capacity for the mastery of figures. In
addition to aU the ordinary difficulties of the Ministry
of a minority there was, in this instance, the difficulty
arising from the obscurity and inexperience of nearly
aU its members. Facetious persons dubbed the new
administration the ' Who ? Who ? Ministry.' The
explanation of this odd- nickname was found iu a
story then in circulation about the Duke of Welling
ton. The Duke, it was said, was anxious to hear
from Lord Derby at the earliest moment aU about
the composition of his Cabinet. He was overheard
asking the new Prime Minister in the House of
Lords the names of his intended coUeagues. The
Duke was rather deaf, and, Uke most deaf persons,
spoke in very loud tones, and of course had to be
answered m tones also rather elevated. That which
was meant for a whispered conversation became
audible to the whole House. As Lord Derby men
tioned each name, the Duke asked in wonder and
eagerness, 'Who? Who? ' After each new name came
the same inquiry. The Duke of WeUington had
clearly never heard of most of the new Ministers
before. The story went about ; and Lord Derby's

182 A HISTORY OF OUR 0"V\TSr TIMES. cn. xxm.
Administration was famUiarly known as the ' Wlio ?
Who ? Government.'
Lord Derby entered office with the avowed mten-
tion of testing the Protection question all over again.
But he was no sooner in office than he found that
the bare suggestion had immensely increased his dif
ficulties. The formidable organisation "which had
worked the Free Trade cause so successfully, seemed
likely to come into political life again with aU its old
vigour. The Free Traders began to stand together
agam the moment Lord Derby gave his unlucky
hint. Every week that passed over his head did
something to show him the mistake he had made
when he hampered himself "with any such under
takUig as the revival of the Protection question.
Some of his colleagues had been unhappUy and blun
deringly outspoken in their addresses to theU con
stituents seekmg for re-election, and had talked as if
the restoration of Protection itself were the grand
object of Lord Derby's takmg office. The new Chan
cellor of the Exchequer had been far more cautious.
He only talked vaguely of ' those remedial measures
which great productive mterests, suffering from un
equal taxation, have a right to expect from a just
Government.' In truth, Mr. Disraeli was well con
vinced at this time of the hopelessness of any agita
tion for the restoration of Protection, and would have
been only too glad of any opportunity for a complete
and at the same time a safe disavowal of any sym
pathy with such a project. The Government found
their path bristlmg with troubles, created for them by

1852. MR. DISRAELI'S FINANCE. 18

Q

their own mistake in gi"VTng any hint about the
demand for a new trial of the Free Trade question.
Any chance they might other"wise have had of making
effective head against their very trying difficulties was
completely cut away from them.
The Free Trade League was reorganised. A con
ference of Liberal members of the House of Commons
was held at the residence of Lord John RusseU in
Chesham Place, at which it was resolved to extract
or extort from the Government a fuU avowal of their
policy "with regard to Protection and Free Trade.
The feat would have been rather difficult of accom-
pUshment, seeing that the Government had absolutely
no poUcy to offer on the subject, and were only hoping
to be able to consult the country as one might consult
an oracle. The ChanceUor of the Exchequer when
he made his financial statement accepted the Uicreased
prosperity of the few years preceding -with an unction
which showed that he at least had no particular
notion of attempting to reverse the policy which had
so greatly contributed to its progress. Mr. Disraeli
pleased the Peelites and the Liberals much more by
his statement than he pleased his chief or many of
his foUowers. His speech indeed was very clever. A
new financial scheme he could not produce, for he
had not had time to make anything like a complete
examination of the finances of the country ; but he
played very prettUy and skUfuUy -with the facts and
figures, and conveyed to the Usteners the idea of a
man who could do wonderful things in finance if
he only had a little time and were in the humour.

184 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xxm.
Everyone outside the limits of the extreme and un
converted Protectionists was pleased with the success
of his speech. People were glad that one who had
proved himself so clever "with many things should
have sho"wn himself equal to the uncongenial and
unwonted task of dealing with dry facts and figures.
The House felt that he was placed in a very trying
position, and was well pleased to see him hold his
own so successfully in it.
Mr. Disraeli merely proposed in his financial state
ment to leave things as he found them ; to continue
the income-tax for another year, as a pro"sisional
arrangement pending that complete re-examination of
the financial affairs of the country to which he inti
mated that he found himself quite equal at the proper
time. No one could suggest any better course ;
and the new ChanceUor came off on the whole "with.
flying colours. His very difficulties had been a
source of advantage to him. He was not expected
to produce a financial scheme at such short notice ;
and if he was not equal to a financier's task, it did not
so appear on this first occasion of trial. The Govern
ment on the whole did not do badly during this
period of their probation. They introduced and car
ried a MUitia BUl, for which they obtained the cordial
support of Lord Palmerston ; and they gave a Con
stitution to New Zealand; and then, in the beginning
of July, the Parliament was prorogued and the dis
solution took place. The elections were signalised by
very serious riots in many parts of the country. In
Ireland particularly party passions ran high. The

1852. A raNlSTRY ON SUFFERANCE. 185
landlords and the police were on one side ; the priests
and the popular party on the other ; and in several
places there was some bloodshed. It was not Ui
Ireland, however, a question about Free Trade or
Protection. The great mass of the Irish people
Imew nothing about Mr. Disraeli — probably had never
heard his name, and did not care who led the House
of Commons. The question which agitated the Irish
constituencies was that of Tenant Right, in the first
instance ; and the time had not yet arrived when a
great Minister from either party was prepared to
Usten to their demands on this subject. There was
also much bitterness of feeling remaining from the
discussions on the Ecclesiastical Titles BUl. But it
may be safely said that not one of the questions that
stirred up public feeling in England had the sUghtest
popular interest in Ireland, and the question which
the Irish people considered essential to their very
existence did not enter for one moment into the
struggles that were going on aU over England.
The speeches of ministers in England showed the
same lively diversity as before on the subject of Pro
tection. Mr. Disraeli not only threw Protection over
board, but boldly declared that no one could have
supposed the Ministry had the slightest intention of
proposing to bring back the laws that were repealed
in 1846. In fact the time, he declared, had gone by
when such exploded politics could even interest the
people of this country. On the other hand, several
of Mr. DisraeU's coUeagues evidently spoke in. the
fuUness of their simple faith that Lord Derby was bent

186 A IHSTORY OF OUR 0"WN TIMES. ch. xxiir.
on setting up again the once beloved and not yet for
gotten protective system. But from the time of the
elections nothing more was heard about Protection
or about the possibUity of gettmg a new trial for its
principles. The elections did little or nothing for the
Government. The dreams of a strengthened party
at their back were gone. They gained a Uttle, just
enough to make it unlikely that anyone would move
a vote of want of confidence at the very outset of
their reappearance before Parliament, but not nearly
enough to give them a chance of carrying any mea
sure which could reaUy propitiate the Conservative
party throughout the country. They were stUl to be
the Mmistry of a minority ; a Ministry on sufferance.
They were a Ministry on sufferance when they ap
pealed to the country, but they were able to say then
that when their cause had been heard the country
would declare for them. They now came back to be
a Ministry on sufferance, who had made the appeal
and had seen it rejected. It was plain to everyone
that their existence as a Mmistry was only a question
of days. Speculation was already busy as to their
successors; and it was evident that a new Govern
ment could only be formed by some sort of coalition
between the Whigs and the Peelites,
Among the noteworthy events of the general elec
tions was the return of Macaulay to the House of
Commons. Edinburgh elected him in a manner par
ticularly complimentary to him and honourable to
herself He was elected without his solicitation, "with
out his putting hunself forward as a candidate, with-

1852. THE RETURN OF MACAULAY. 187
out his making any profession of faith or doing any
of the things that the most independent candidate
was then expected to do ; and in fact, in spite of his
positive declaration that he would do nothing to court
election. He had for some years been absent from
Parliament. Some difference had arisen between him
and certain of his constituents on the subject of the
Maynooth grant. Complaints too had been made
by Edinburgh constituents of Macaulay's lack of at
tention to local interests, and of the intellectual scorn
which as they believed he exhibited in his intercourse
with many of those who had supported him. The
result of this was that at the general election of
1847 Macaulay was left third on the poll at Edin
burgh. He felt this deeply. He might have easUy
found some other constituency; but his wounded
pride hastened a resolution he had for some time been
forming to retire to a life of private literary labour.
He therefore remamed out of Parliament. In 1852
the movement of Edinburgh towards him was entirely
spontaneous. Edinburgh was anxious to atone for the
error of which she had been guUty. Macaulay would
go no farther than to say that if Edinburgh spon
taneously elected him he should deem it a very high
honour; and 'should not feel myself justi&ed in
refusing to accept a public trust offered to me in
a manner so honourable and so peculiar,' But he
would not do anything whatever to court favour.
He did not want to be elected to Parliament, he said ;
he was very happy in his retirement. Edinburgh
elected him on those terms. He was not long aUowed

188 A HISTORY OF OUR 0"WT^ TBIES. cn. xxnr.
by his health to serve her; but so long as he re
mained in the House of Commons it was as member
for Edinburgh. On September 14, 1852, the Duke of WeUmgton
died. His end was singularly peaceful. He fell
quietly asleep about a quarter-past three in the after
noon in Walmer Castle, and he did not wake any
more. He was a very old man — in his eighty -fourth
year — and his death had naturally been looked for as
an event certain to come soon. Yet when it did
come thus naturaUy and peacefuUy, it created a
profound public emotion. No other man in our
time ever held the position in England which the
Duke of WeUington had occupied for more than a
whole generation. The place he had won for himself
was absolutely unique. His great deeds belonged' to
a past time. He was hardly anything of a states
man ; he knew little and cared less about what may
be (galled statecraft ; and as an administrator he had
made many mistakes. But the trust which the
nation had in him as a counseUor was absolutely
unUmited. It never entered into the mind of any
one to suppose that the Duke of WeUington was
actuated in any step he took, or advice he gave, by
any feeling but a desire for the good of the State.
His loyalty to the Sovereign had something antique
and touching in it. There was a blending of
personal affection "with the devotion of a state ser
vant which lent a certain romantic dignity to the
demeanour and character of one who other"wise had
but little of the poetical or the sentimental in his

1852. 'THE LAST GREAT ENGLISHMAN IS LOW.' 189
nature. In the business of politics he had but one
prevaUing anxiety, and that was that the Queen's
Government should be satisfactorUy carried on. He
gave up again and again his own most cherished con
victions, most ingrained prejudices, in order that he
might not stand in the way of the Queen's Govern
ment and the proper carrying of it on. This
simple fideUty, sometimes rather whimsically dis
played, stood him often in stead of an exalted states
manship, and enabled him to extricate the Govern
ment and the nation from difficulties in which a
political insight far more keen than his might have
faUed to prove a guide.
It was for this true and tried, this simple and
unswerving devotion to the national good that the
people of England admired and revered him. He
had not what would be caUed a loveable temperament,
and yet the nation loved him. He was cold and
brusque in manner, and seemed in general to have
hardly a gleam of the emotional in him. This was
not because he lacked affections. On the contrary,
his affections and his friendships were warm and
enduring ; and even in public he had more than once
given way to outbursts of emotion such as a strano-er
would never have expected from one of that cold
and rigid demeanour. When Sir Robert Peel died,
WeUington spoke of him in the House of Lords
with the tears which he did not even try to control
running down his cheeks. But in his ordinary
bearing there was little of the manner that makes
a man a popular idol. He was not briUiant or

190 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xxnr.
dashing, or emotional or graceful. He was dry, cold,
self-contained. Yet the people loved him and trusted
in him ; loved him perhaps especially because they
so trusted in him. No face and figure were better
kno"wn at one time to the population of London than
those of the Duke of Wellington. Of late his form
had grown stooped, and he bent over his horse as
he rode in the Park or down Whitehall like one who
could hardly keep himself in the saddle. Yet he
mounted his horse to the last, and, indeed, could
keep in the saddle after he had ceased to be able to
sit erect in an arm-chair. He sometimes rode in a
curious little cab of his 0"wn devising ; but his
favourite way of going about London was on the
back of his horse. He was caUed, par excellence,
' the Duke.' The London working man who looked
up as he went to or from his work and caught a sight
of the bowed figure on the horse, took off his hat
and told some passer-by, ' There goes the Duke ! '
His "victories belonged to the past. They were but
traditions even to middle-aged men in 'the Duke's'
later years. But he was regarded stUl as an embodi
ment of the national heroism and success ; a modern
St. George in a tightly-buttoned frock-coat and white
trowsers. WeUington belonged so much to the past at the
time of his death, that it seems hardly in place here
to say anything about his character as a soldier.
But it may be remarked that his success was due in
great measure to a sort of inspired common sense
which rose to something like genius. He had in the

1852. WELLINGTON'S MILITARY GENIUS. 191
highest conceivable degree the art of winning vic
tories. In war, as in statesmanship, he had one
characteristic which is said to have been the special
gift of JuUus Csesar, and for the lack of which Caesar's
greatest modern rival in the art of conquest, the first
Napoleon, lost all, or nearly all, that he had won.
WeUington not only understood what could be done,
but also what could not be done. The wild schemes
of almost universal rule which set Napoleon astray
and led him to his destruction, would have appeared
to the strong common sense of the Duke of WeUing
ton as impossible and absurd as they would have
looked to the lofty intelligence of Cassar. It can hardly
be questioned that in original genius Napoleon far
surpassed the Duke of WeUington. But WelUngton
always knew exactly what he could do, and Napoleon
often confounded his ambitions "with his capacities.
Wellington provided for everything, looked after
everything ; never trusted to his star or to chance or
to anything but care and preparation and the proper
appUcation of means to ends. Under almost any
conceivable conditions, Wellington, pitted against
Napoleon, was the man to win in the end. The
very genius of Napoleon would sooner or later have
left him open to the unsleeping watchfulness, the
almost infallible judgment of WelUngton.
He was as fortunate as he was deserving. No
man could have drunk more deeply of the cup of
fame and fortune than Wellington ; and he was never
for one moment intoxicated by it. After all his long
wars and his splendid victories he had some thirty-

192 A HISTORY OF OUR O'WN TIMES. cn. xxm.
seven years of peace and glory to enjoy. He held
the loftiest position in this country that any man not
a sovereign could hold, and he ranked far higher in
the estimation of his countrymen than most of their
sovereigns have done. The rescued emperors and
kings of Europe had showered their honours on
him. His fame was as completely secured during his
lifetime as if death, by removing him from the possi
bUity of making a mistake, had consecrated it. No
new war under altered conditions tried the flexibUity
and the endurance of the miUtary genius which had
defeated in turn all Napoleon's great marshals as a
prelude to the defeat of Napoleon himself. If ever
any mortal may be said to have had in life aU he
could have desired, WeUington was surely that man.
He might have found a new contentment in his
honours, if he really cared much about them, in the
reflection that he had done nothing for himself, but
all for the State. He did not love war. He had no
inclination whatever for it. When Lord John Rus
seU visited Napoleon in Elba, Napoleon asked him
whether he thought the Duke of WeUington would
be able to live thenceforward without the excitement
of war. It was probably in Napoleon's mind that
the English soldier would be constantly entangling
his country in foreign complications for the sake of
gratifying his love for the brave squares of war.
Lord John RusseU endeavoured to impress upon the
great fallen Emperor that the Duke of WelUngton
would as a matter of course lapse into the place of a
simple citizen, and would look with no manner of

1852. 'LO, THE LEADER IN THESE GLORIOUS Wx\.RS!' 193
regret to the stormy days of battle. Napoleon seems
to have listened with a sort of melancholy uicredulity,
and only observed once or twice that ' it was a splen
did game, war.' To WelUngton it was no splendid
game, or game of any sort. It was a stern duty to
be done for his Sovereign and his country, and to be
got through as quickly as possible. The difference
between the two men cannot be better illustrated.
It is impossible to compare two such men. There is
hardly any common basis of comparison. To say
which is the greater, one must first make up his mind
as to whether his standard of greatness is genius or
duty. Napoleon has made a far deeper impression
on history. If that be superior greatness, it would
be scarcely possible for any national partiality to
claim an equal place for Wellington. But EngUsh
men may be content "with the reflection that their
hero saved his country, and that Napoleon nearly
ruined his. We write this without the sUghtest in
clination to sanction what may be caUed the British
PhUistine view of the character of Napoleon. Up to
a certain period of his career it seems to us deserving
of almost unmingled admiration ; just as his country,
in her earlier, disputes with the other European
Powers, seems to have been almost entUely in the
right. But his success and his glory were too strong
for Napoleon, He fell for the very want of that
simple, steadfast devotion to duty which inspired
Wellington always, and which made him seem digni
fied and great, even in statesmanship for which he
was unfitted, and even when in statesmanship he was
VOL. II. 0

194 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TBIES. cn. xxnr.
acting in a manner that would have made another
man seem ridiculous rather than respectable. Wel
lington more nearly resembled Washington than
Napoleon. He was a much greater soldier than
Washington ; but he was not on the whole so great
a man. It is fairly to be said for Wellington that the
proportions of his personal greatness seem to grow
rather than to dwindle as he and his events are
removed from us by time. The battle of Waterloo
does not indeed stand, as one of its historians has
described it, among the decisive battles of the world.
It was fought to keep the Bonapartes off the throne
of France ; and in twenty-five years after Waterloo,
whUe the victor of Waterloo was yet living, another
Bonaparte was preparing to mount that throne. It
was the climax of a national policy, which, however
justifiable and Uievitable it may have become in the
end, would hardly now be justified as to its origin
by one intelligent Englishman out of twenty. The
present age is not, therefore, likely to become rhapso
dical over Wellington, as our forefathers might have
been, merely because he defeated the French and
crushed Napoleon. Yet it is impossible for the
coolest mind to study the career of Wellington with
out feeUng a constant glow of admiration for that
singular course of simple antique devotion to duty.
His was truly the spirit in which a great nation must
desire to be served.
The nation was not ungrateful. It heaped honours
on WelUngton ; it would have heaped more on him

1852. 'NOW TO GLORIOUS BURIAL SLOWLY BORNE.' 195
if it knew how. It gave him its almost unqualified
admiration. On his death it tried to give him such
a pubUc funeral as hero never had. The pageant
was indeed a splendid and a gorgeous exhibition.
It was not perhaps very well suited to the tempera
ment and habits of the cold and simple hero to whose
honour it was got up. Nor, perhaps, are gorgeous
pageants exactly the sort of performance in which as
a nation England particularly excels. But in the
vast, sUent, respectful crowd that thronged the Lon
don streets — a crowd such as no other city in the
world could show — there was better evidence than
pageantry or ceremonial could supply of the esteem
in which the Uvmg generation held the hero of the
last. The name of Wellington had long ceased to
represent any hostUity of nation to nation. The
crowds who filled the streets of London that day had
no thought of the kind of sentiment which used to
fill the breasts of their fathers when France and
Napoleon were named. They honoured WeUington
only as one who had always served his country ; as
the soldier of England and not as the invader of
France, or even as the conqueror of Napoleon. The
homage to his memory was as pure of selfish passion
as his own career.
The new Parliament was called together in No
vember. It brought into public life in England a
man who afterwards made some mark in our politics,
and whose intellect and debating power seemed at
one time to promise him a position inferior to that of
hardly anyone ia the House of Commons, This was
0 2

196 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES, cn. xxm.
Mr. Robert Lowe, who had returned from one of
the Australian colonies to enter political life in his
native country, Mr, Lowe was a scholar of a highly
cultured order; and, despite some serious defects of
deUverj?", he proved to be a debater of the very
highest class, especially gifted "with the weapons of
sarcasm, scorn, and invective. He was a Liberal in
the intellectual sense ; he was opposed to aU restraints
on education and on the progress of a career ; but he
had a detestation for democratic doctrines which
almost amounted to a mania. He despised with the
whole force of a temperament very favourable to
intellectual scorn alUie the rural Tory and the to"wn
Radical. His opinions were generaUy rather negative
than positive. He did not seem to have any very
positive opinions of any kmd where politics were
concerned. He was governed by a detestation of
abstractions and sentimentalities, and ' "\dews ' of all
sorts. An mteUectual Don Juan of the political
world, he believed with Moliere's hero that two and
two make four, and that four and four make eight,
and he was impatient of any theory which would
commend itself to the mmd on less rigorous evidence.
If contempt for the mteUectual weaknesses of an
opposing party or doctrine could have made a great
politician, Mr. Lowe would have won that name. In
poUtics, however, criticism is not enough. One must
be able to originate, to mould the wUl of others, to
compromise, to lead whUe seemmg to follow, often to
foUow whUe seeming to lead. Of gUts like these Mr.
Lowe had no share. He never became more than a

1852. THE END OF PROTECTION. 197
great Parliamentary critic of the acrid and vitriolic
style. Almost immediately on the assembling of the new
ParUament, Mr. Villiers brought forward a resolution
not merely pledging the House of Commons to a
Free Trade policy, but pouring out a sort of censure
on all who had hitherto faUed to recognise its worth.
This step was thought necessary, and was indeed made
necessary by the errors of which Lord Derby had
been guUty, and the preposterous vapourings of some
of his less responsible followers. If the resolution
had been passed, the Government must have resigned.
They were "willing enough now to agree to any reso
lution declaring that Free Trade was the established
poUcy of the country ; but they could not accept the
triumphant eulogium which the resolution proposed
to offer to the commercial policy of the years when
they were the uncompromising enemies of that very
policy. They could submit to the punishment im
posed on them; but they did not Uke this public
kissing of the rod and domg penance. Lord Palmer
ston, who even up to that time regarded his ultimate
acceptance of office under Lord Derby as a not impos
sible event if once the Derby party could shake them
selves quite free of Protection, devised an amendment
which afforded them the means of a more or less
honourable retreat. This resolution pledged the
House to the 'policy of unrestricted competition
firmly maintained and prudently extended'; but
recorded no panegyric of the legislation of 1846, and
consequent condemnation of those who opposed that

198 A HISTORY OF OUR 0"WTSr TBIES. cn. xxm.
legislation. The amendment was accepted by all but
the smaU band of kreconcUable Protectionists : 468
voted for it; only 53 against it; and the moan of
Protection was made. AU that long chapter of
English legislation was closed. Various commercial
and other ' interests ' did indeed afterwards demui- to
the application of the principle of unrestricted com
petition to their peculiar concerns. But they did not
plead for Protection. They only contended that the
Protection they sought for was not, in fact. Protec
tion at aU, but Free Trade under peculiar cUcum-
stances. The straightforward doctrine of Protection
perished of the debate of November 1852.
StUl the Government only existed on sufferance.
Their tenure of office was somewhat rudely compared
to that of a baUiff put into possession of certain
premises, who is liable to be sent away at any
moment when the two parties concerned in the liti
gation choose to come to terms. There was a general
expectation that the moment Mr. Disraeli came to set
out a genuine financial scheme the fate of the Govern
ment would be decided. So the event proved. Mr.
Disraeli made a financial statement which showed
remarkable capacity for dealing "with figures. It was
subjected to a far more serious test than his first
budget, for that was necessarUy a mere stopgap or
makeshift. This was a real budget, altering and
reconstructing the financial system and the taxation
of the country. The skiU "with which the Chancellor
of the Exchequer explained his measures and tossed
his figures about convinced many even of his

1852. 'HOW HAPPY COULD I BE WITH EITHER!' 199
strongest opponents that he had the capacity to
make a good budget if he only were allowed to do
so by the conditions of his party's existence. But
his Cabinet had come into office under special obli
gations to the country party and the farmers. They
could not avoid making some experiment in the way
of special legislation for the farmers. They had at
the very least to put on an appearance of doing some-
thmg for them. The Chancellor of the Exchequer
might be supposed to be in the position of the soldier
in Hogarth's ' March to Finchley,' between the rival
claimants on his attention. He has promised and
vowed to the one; but he knows that the slightest
mark of civility he offers to her wUl be fiercely
resented by the other. When Mr. Disraeli undertook
to favour the country mterest and the farmers, he
must have known only too well that he was setting
aU the Free Traders and Peelites against him'; and
he knew at the same tune that if he neglected the
country party he was cutting the ground from
beneath his feet. The principle of his budget was
the reduction of the malt duties and the increase of
the mhabited house duty. Some manipulations of
the Uicome tax were to be introduced, chiefly with a
"view to lighten the impost on farmers' profits ; and
there was to be a modest reduction of the tea duty.
The two points that stood out clear and prominent
before the House of Commons were the reduction of
the malt duty and the increase of the duty on inhabited
houses. The reduction of the malt tax, as Mr. Lowe
said in his pungent criticism, was the keystone of

200 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xxnr.
the budget. That reduction created a deficit, which
the inhabited house duty had to be doubled in order
to supply. The scheme was a complete faUure. The
farmers did not care much about the concession which
had been made in their favour; those who had to
pay for it in doubled taxation were bitterly indignant.
Mr. Disraeli had exasperated the one claimant, and
not greatly pleased the other. The Government soon
saw how things were likely to go. The Chancellor
of the Exchequer began to see that he had only a
desperate fight to make. The Whigs, the Free
Traders, the Peelites, and such independent members
or unattached members as Mr. Lowe and Mr. Bernal
Osborne aU feU on him. It became a combat a
outrance. It weU suited Mr. Disraeli's pecuUar tem
perament. During the whole of his Parliamentary
career he has never fought so weU as when he has
been free to indulge to the full the courage of
despair.

1852. 201

CHAPTER XXIV.
MR. GLADSTONE.
The debate was one of the finest of its kind ever heard
in ParUament during our time. The excitement on
both sides was intense. The rivalry was hot and
eager. Mr. Disraeli was animated by all the power
of desperation, and was evidently in a mood neither
to give nor to take quarter. He assailed Sir Charles
Wood, the late ChanceUor of the Exchequer, with a
vehemence and even a virulence which certainly added
much to the piquancy and interest of the discussion
so far as Usteners were concerned, but which more
than once went to the very verge of the limits of
Parliamentary decorum. It was in the course of this
speech that Disraeli, leaning across the table and
directing his words fuU at Sir Charles Wood, declared,
' I care not to be the right honourable gentleman's
critic, but if he has learned his business he has yet to
learn that petulance is not sarcasm, and that insolence
is not invective,' The House had not heard the con
cluding word of Disraeli's bitter and impassioned
speech, when at two o'clock in the morning Mr,
Gladstone leaped to his feet to answer him. Then
began that long Parliamentary duel which only knew
a truce when at the close of the session of 1876 Mr.

202 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TBIES. cn. xxry.
Disraeli crossed the threshold of the House of Com
mons for the last time, thenceforward to take his place
among the peers as Lord Beaconsfield. During aU
the intervening four-and-twenty years these two men
were rivals in power and in Parliamentary debate as
much as ever Pitt and Fox had been. Their opposi
tion, like that of Pitt and Fox, was one of tempera»
ment and character as weU as of genius, position and
political opmion. The rivalry of this first heated and
eventful night was a splendid display. Those who
had thought it impossible that any impression could
be made upon the House after the speech of Mr,
Disraeli, had to acknowledge that a yet greater im
pression was produced by the unprepared reply of
Mr. Gladstone. The House divided about four o'clock
in the morning, and the Government were left in a
minority of nineteen. Mr. Disraeli took the defeat
with his characteristic composure. The mornnig
was cold and wet. ' It wUl be an unpleasant day for
going to Osborne,' he quietly remarked to a friend
as they went down Westminster HaU together and
looked out into the dreary streets. That day, at
Osborne, the resignation of the Mmistry was formaUy
placed in the hands of the Queen.
In a few days after, the Coalition Ministry was
formed. Lord Aberdeen was Prime Minister ; Lord
John RusseU took the Foreign Office ; Lord Palmer
ston became Home Secretary; Mr, Gladstone was
Chancellor of the Exchequer. The public were a good
deal surprised that Lord Palmerston had taken such
a place as that of Home Secretary. His name had

1853. TIIE COALITION MINISTRY. 203
been identified with the foreign policy of England,
and it was not supposed that he felt the slightest
interest in the ordinary business pf the Home Depart
ment. Palmerston himself explamed m a letter to
his brother that the Home Office was his own choice.
He was not anxious to join the Mmistry at aU ; and
if he had to make one, he preferred that he should
hold some office in which he had personaUy no tradi
tions. ' I had long settled in my own mind,' he said,
' that I would not go back to the Foreign Office, and
that if I ever took any office it should be the Hotne.
It does not do for a man to pass his whole life in one
department, and the Home Office deals "with the con
cerns of the country internally and brings one in
contact with one's feUow-countrymen ; besides which
it gives one more influence m regard to the mUitia
and the defences of the country.' Lord Palmerston
m fact announces that he has undertaken the busi
ness of the Home Office for the same reason as that
given by Fritz, in the ' Grande Duchesse,' for becoming
a schoolmaster. ' Can you teach ? ' asks the Grande
Duchesse ? ' No,' is the answer ; ' c' est pour apprendre-^
' I go to learn.' The reader may weU suspect, how
ever, that it was not only "with a view of learning the
business of the internal administration and becomina:
acquainted with his feUow-countrymen that Palmer
ston preferred the Home Office. He would not con
sent to be Foreign Secretary on any terms but his
o"wn, and these terms were then out of the question.
The principal interest felt in the new Government
was not, however, centred in Lord Palmerston. The

204 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xxiv.
new ChanceUor of the Exchequer was the man upon
whom the eyes of curiosity and interest were chiefly
turned, Mr. Gladstone was stUl a young man in
the ParUamentary sense at least. He was but forty-
three. His career had been in every way remarkable.
He had entered public life at a very early age. He
had been, to quote the words of Macaulay, a distin-
PTiished debater Ui the House of Commons ever since
he was one-and-twenty. Criticising his book, ' The
State in its Relations with the Church,' which was
published in 1838, Macaulay speaks of Gladstone as
' a young man of unblemished character and of dis
tinguished Parliamentary talents, the risuig hope of
those stern and unbending Tories who follow reluc
tantly and mutinously a leader whose experience is
indispensable to them, but whose cautious temper and
moderate opinions they abhor.' The time was not so
far away when the stern and unbending Tories would
regard Gladstone as the greatest hope of theU most
bitter enemies. Lord Macaulay goes on to over
whelm the views expressed by Mr. Gladstone as to
the relations between State and Church, "with a weight
of argument and gorgeousness of Ulustration that now
seem to have been hardly called for. One of the doc
trines of the young statesman which Macaulay con
futes "with especial warmth, is the principle which, as
he states it, ' would give the Irish a Protestant Church
whether they like it or not,' The author of the book
which contained this doctrine was the author of the
disestablishment of the State Church in Ireland,
Mr, Gladstone was by birth a Lancashire man. It

1853, MR. GLADSTONE'S EARLY CAREER, 205
is not unworthy of notice that Lancashire gave to
the ParUaments of recent times their three greatest
orators : Mr. Gladstone, Mr. Bright, and the late Lord
Derby. Mr. Gladstone was born in Liverpool, and
was the son of Sir John Gladstone, a Scotchman, who
founded a great house in the seaport of the Mersey.
He entered Parliament when very young as a protege
of the Newcastle famUy, and he soon faithfuUy at
tached hmiseU to Sir Robert Peel. His knowledge of
finance, his thorough appreciation of the various needs
of a nation's commerce and business, his middle-class
origin, aU brought him into natural affinity with his
great leader. He became a Free Trader with Peel.
He was not in the House of Commons, oddly enough,
during the session when the Free Trade battle was
fought and won. It has already been explained in
this history that as he had changed his opinions with
his leader he felt a reluctance to ask the support of
the Newcastle family for the borough which by virtue
of their uifluence he had previously represented. But
except for that short interval his whole career may be
pronounced one long Parliamentary success. He was
from the very first recognised as a brUliant debater,
and as one who promised to be an orator ; but it was
not untU after the death of SU Robert Peel that he
proved himself the master of Parliamentary eloquence
we aU now know him to be. It was he who pro
nounced what may be called the funeral oration upon
Peel in the House of Commons; but the speech,
although undoubtedly inspired by the truest and the
deepest feelings, does not seem by any means equal to

206 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xxrv,
some of his more recent efforts. There is an appear
ance of elaboration about it which goes far to mar its
effect. Perhaps the first really great speech made by
Gladstone was the reply to Disraeli on the memorable
December morning which we have just described.
That speech put him in the very foremost rank of
English orators. Then perhaps he first showed to
the fuU the one great quality in which as a Parlia
mentary orator he has never had a rival in our time :
the readiness which seems to require no preparation,
but can marshal aU its arguments as if by instinct at
a given moment, and the fluency which can pour out
the most eloquent language as freely as though it
were but the breath of the nostrils. When, shortly
after the formation of the Coalition Mmistry, Mr. Glad
stone delivered his first budget, it was regarded as a
positive curiosity of financial exposition. It was a
performance that belonged to the department of the
fine arts. The speech occupied several hours, and
assuredly no listener ¦wished it the shorter by a single
sentence. Pitt, we read, had the same art of making
a budget speech a fascinating discpurse ; but in our
time no minister has had this gift except Mr. Glad
stone. Each time that he essayed the same task
subsequently he accompUshed just the same success.
Mr. Gladstone's first oratorical qualification was his
exquisite voice. Such a voice would make common
place seem interesting and lend something of fascina
tion to dulness itself It was singularly pure, clear,
resonant, and sweet. The orator never seemed to use
the slightest effort or strain in filling any hall and

1853.

MR. Gladstone's oratory. 207

reaching the ear of the farthest among the audience.
It was not a loud voice or of great volume ; but strong,
vibratmg and sUvery. The words were always
aided by energetic action and by the deep gleaming
eyes of the orator. Somebody once said that Glad
stone was the only man in the House who could talk
in italics. The saying was odd, but was nevertheless
appropriate and expressive. Gladstone could by the
slightest modulation of his voice give all the emphasis
of italics, of smaU prmt, or large print, or any other
effect he might desire, to his spoken words. It is not
to be denied that his wonderful gift of words some
times led him astray. It was often such a fluency as
that of a torrent on which the orator was carried
away. Gladstone had to pay for his fluency by
bemg too fluent. He could seldom resist the tempta
tion to shower too many words on his subject and his
hearers. Sometimes he involved his sentence in pa
renthesis within parenthesis until the ordinary listener
began to think extrication an impossibUity; but the
orator never faUed to unravel all the entanglements
and to bring the passage out to a clear and legi
timate conclusion. There was never any halt or
incoherency, nor did the joints of the sentence
faU to fit together in the right way. Harley once
described a famous speech as ' a circumgyration of
incoherent words.' This description certainly could
not be applied even to Mr. Gladstone's most involved
passages ; but if some of those were described as a
circumgyration of coherent words the phrase might
be considered germane to the matter. His style was

208 A history of our own times, ch, xxit.
commonly too redundant. It seemed as if it belonged
to a certain school of exuberant Italian rhetoric. Yet
it was hardly to be caUed florid. Gladstone indulged
in few flowers of rhetoric, and his great gift was not
imaguiation. His fault was simply the habitual use
of too many words. This defect was indeed a cha
racteristic of the Peelite school of eloquence. Mr
Gladstone retained some of the defects of the school
in which he had been trained, even after he had come
to surpass its greatest master.
Often, however, this superb, exuberant rush of
words added indescribable strength to the eloquence
of the speaker. In passages of indignant remon
strance or denunciation, when word foUowed word,
and stroke came do"wn upon stroke, with a wealth of
resource that seemed inexhaustible, the very fluency
and variety of the speaker overwhelmed his audience.
Interruption only gave him a new stimulus, and
appeared to supply him "with fresh resources of
argument and iUustration. His retorts leaped to
his lips. His eye caught sometimes even the mere
gesture that indicated dissent or question; and per
haps some unlucky opponent who was only thinking
of what might be said in opposition to the great
orator found himself suddenly dragged into the con
flict and overwhelmed with a torrent of remonstrance,
argument, and scornful words. Gladstone had not
much humour of the playfiU kind, but he had a cer
tain force of sarcastic and scornful rhetoric. He was
always terribly in earnest. Whether the subject were
great or small, he threw his whole soul into it. Once,

1853. GLADSTONE AND BRIGHT. 209
in addressing a schoolboy gathering, he told his
young listeners that if a boy ran he ought always
to run as fast as he could ; if he jumped, he ought
always to jump as far as he could. He Ulustrated
his maxim in his own career. He had no idea appa
rently of running or jumping in such measure as
happened to please the fancy of the moment. He
always exercised his splendid powers to the utter
most strain.
A distinguished critic once pronounced Mr. Glad
stone to be the greatest Parliamentary orator of our
time, on the ground that he had made by far the
greatest number of fine speeches, whUe admitting
that two or three speeches had been made by other
men of the day which might rank higher than any of
his. This is, however, a principle of criticism which
posterity never sanctions. The greatest speech, the
greatest poem, give the author the highest place,
though the effort were but single. Shakespeare
would rank beyond Massinger just as he does now
had he written only ' The Tempest.' We cannot say
how many novels, each as good as ' GU Bias,' would
make Le Sage the equal of Cervantes. On this point
fame is inexorable. We are not, therefore, inclined
to call Mr. Gladstone the greatest English orator of
our time when we remember some of the finest
speeches of Mr. Bright ; but did we regard Parlia
mentary speaking as a mere instrument of Parliamen
tary business and debate, then unquestionably Mr.
Gladstone is not only the greatest, but by far the
greatest English orator of our time ; for he had' a
VOL. II. p

210 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TBIES. en. xxnr.
richer combination of gifts than any other man we can
remember, and he could use them oftenest with effect.
He was like a racer which cannot indeed always go
faster than every rival, but can "wUi more races in the
year than any other horse. Mr. Gladstone could get
up at any moment, and no matter how many times a
night, in the House of Commons, and be argumenta
tive or indignant, pour out a stream of impassioned
eloquence or a shower of figures just as the exigency
of the debate and the moment requUed. He was not,
of course, always equal ; but he was always eloquent
and effective. He seemed as if he could not be any
thing but eloquent. Perhaps, judged Ui this way,
he never had an equal Ui the English Parliament.
Neither Pitt nor Fox ever made so many speeches
combining so many great qualities. Chatham was ;»
great actor rather than a great orator. Burke was
the greatest political essayist who ever addressed the
House of Commons. Canning did not often rise
above the level of burnished rhetorical commonplace.
Macaulay, who during his time drew the most
crowded houses of any speaker, not even excepting
Peel, was not an orator in the true sense. Probably
no one, past or present, had in combination so many
gifts of voice, manner, fluency and argument, style,
reason and passion, as Mr. Gladstone.
The House of Commons was his ground. There
he was himself; there he was always seen to the best
advantage. As a rule he was not so successful on
the platform. His turn of mind did not fit him well
for the work of addressing great public meetings.

1853. CONTRASTS OF TEMPERAMENT, 211
He loved to look too carefully at every side of a
question, and did not always go so quickly to the
heart of it as would suit great popular audiences.
The principal defect of his mind was probably a lack
of simplicity, a tendency to over-refining and super-
subtle argument. Not perhaps unnaturally, however,
•when he did, during some of the later passages of his
career, lay himself out for the work of addressing
popular audiences, he threw away all discrimination,
and gave loose to the fuU force with which, under
the excitement of great pressure, he was wont to
rush at a principle. There seemed a certain lack of
balance in his mind ; a want of the exact poise of all
his faculties. Either he must refine too much, or he
did not refine at aU. Thus he became accused,
and with some reason, of over-refining and all but
quibbling in some of his Parliamentary arguments ;
of looking at all sides of a question so carefully
that it was too long in doubt whether he was ever
going to form any opuuon of his own ; and he was
sometimes accused with equal justice of pleading one
side of a political cause before great meetmgs of his
countrymen with aU the passionate blindness of a
partisan. The accusations might seem self-contra
dictory, if we did not remember that they wiU apply,
and with great force and justice, to Burke. Burke
cut blocks "with a razor, and went on refining to an
impatient House of Commons, only eager for its
dinner; and the same Burke threw himself into
antagonism to the French Revolution as if he were
the. wildest of partisans; as if the question had but
p2

212 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xxrr.
one side, and only fools or vUlains could possibly
say it had any other.
Mr. Gladstone grew slowly into Liberal con"vdc-
tions. At the time when he joined the Coalition
Ministry he was stUl regarded as one who had scarcely
left the camp of Toryism, and who had only joined
that Ministry because it was a coalition. Years after
he was applied to by the late Lord Derby to join a
Ministry formed by him; and it was not supposed
that there was anything unreasonable in the propo
sition. The first impulse towards Liberal principles
was given to his mind probably by his change with
his leader from Protection to Free Trade. When a
man like Gladstone saw that his traditional principles
and those of his party had broken down in any one
direction, it was but natural that he should begin to
question their endurance in other directions. The
whole fabric of belief was buUt up together. Glad
stone's was a mind of that order that sees a principle
in everything, and must, to adopt the phrase of a
great preacher, make the ploughing as much a part
of religious duty as the praying. The interests of
religion seemed to him bound up with the creed
of Conservatism; the principles of Protection must
probably at one time have seemed a part of the whole
creed of which one article was as sacred as another.
His intellect and his principles, however, found them
selves compelled to follow the guidance of his leader
in the matter of Free Trade ; and when mquiry thus
began it was not very lU^ely soon to stop. He must
have seen how much the working of such a principle

1853. GRADUAL CONVERSION TO LIBERALISM. 213
as that of Protection became a class interest in Eng
land, and how impossible it would have been for it
to contmue long in existence under an extended and
a popular suffrage. In other countries the fallacy of
Protection did not show itself so glaringly in the
eyes of the poorer classes, for in other countries it
was not the staple food of the population that became
the prmcipal object of a protective duty. But in
England the bread on which the poorest had to live
was made to pay a tax for the benefit of landlords
and farmers. As long as one believed this to be a
necessary condition of a great unquestionable creed,
it was easy for a young statesman to reconcUe him
self to it. It might bear crueUy on individuals, or
even multitudes ; but so would the law of gravita
tion, as MUl has remarked, bear harshly on the
best of men when it dashed him down from a height
and broke his bones. It would be idle to question
the existenca of the law on that account ; or to dis
believe the whole teaching of the physical science
which explains its movements. But when Mr. Glad
stone came to be convinced that there was no such
law as the Protection principle at all; that it was
a mere sham ; that to believe in it was to be guilty of
an economic heresy — then it was impossible for him
not to begin questioning the genumeness of the whole
system of political thought of which it formed but
a part. Perhaps, too, he was impeUed towards Liberal
principles at home by seeing what the effects of oppo
site doctrines had been abroad. He rendered memor
able service to the Liberal cause of Europe by his

214 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xxrv.
eloquent protest against the brutal treatment of Baron
Poerio and other Liberals of Naples who were im
prisoned by the Neapolitan king — a protest which
Garibaldi declared to have sounded the first trumpet-
call of Italian Uberty. In rendering ser"ST.ce to Libe-
raUsm and to Europe he rendered service also to his
0"wn intelligence. He helped to set free his own
spirit as weU as the Neapolitan people. We find
him, as his career goes on, dropping the traditions
pf his youth, always rising higher in Liberalism,
and not going back. One of the foremost of his
compeers, and his only actual rival in popular elo
quence, eulogised him as always struggling towards
the light. The common taunts addressed to public
men who have changed their opinions were hardly
ever applied to him. Even his enemies felt that
the one idea always inspired him — a conscientious
anxiety to do the right thing. None accused him of
being one of the politicians who mistake, as Victor
Hugo says, a weathercock for a flag. With many
qualities which seemed hardly suited to a practical
politician; with a sensitive and eager temper, like
that of Cannmg, and a turn for theological argument
that as a rule Englishmen do not love in a statesman ;
with an impetuosity that often carried him far astray,
and a deficiency of those genial social qualities that
go so far to make a public success in England, Mr.
Gladstone maintained through the whole of his career
a reputation against which there was hardly a serious
cavil. The worst thing that was said of hun was
that he was too impulsive, and that his inteUigence

1853. 'EQUAL TO ALL THINGS.' 215
was too restless. He was an essayist, a critic, a
Homeric scholar; a dilettante in art, music, and old
china ; he was a theological controversialist ; he
was a political economist, a financier, a practical
admmistrator whose gift of mastering detaUs has
hardly ever been equalled ; he was a statesman and
an orator. No man could attempt so many things
and not occasionally make himself the subject of a
sneer. The intense gravity and earnestness of Glad
stone's mind always, however, saved him from the
special penalty of such versatUity; no satirist de
scribed him as not one, but all mankind's epitome.
As yet, however, he is only the young statesman
who was the other day the hope of the more solemn
and solid Conservatives, and in whom they have not
even yet entirely ceased to put some faith. The
Coalition Ministry was so formed that it was not
supposed a man necessarUy nailed his colours to any
mast when he joined it. More than one of Glad
stone's earliest friends and political associates had a
part in it. The Mmistry might undoubtedly be
called an Administration of All the Talents. Except
the late Lord Derby and Mr. Disraeli, it included
almost every man of real abUity who belonged to
either of the two great parties of the State. The
Manchester School had, of course, no place there;
but they were not Ukely just yet to be recognised as
constituting one of the elements out of which even a
CoaUtion Ministry might be composed.

216 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. ch. xxt,

CHAPTER XXV.
THE EASTERN QUESTION.
FoK forty years England had been at peace. There
had indeed been little wars here and there with some of
her Asiatic and African neighbours ; and once or twice,
as in the instance of the quarrel between Turkey and
Egypt, she had been menaced for a moment "with a
dispute of a more formidable kmd and nearer home.
But the trouble had passed away, and from Waterloo
downward England had known no real war. The
new generation were growing up in a kind of happy
belief that wars were things of the past for us ; out
of fashion ; belonging to a ruder and less ratioiial
society, like the wearing of armour and the carrying
of weapons in the civU streets. It is not surprising
if it seemed possible to many that the England of
the future might regard the Uistruments and the ways
of war with the same curious wonder as that which
VirgU assumes would one day fill the minds of the
rustic labourers whose ploughs turned up on some
field of ancient battle the rusted swords and battered
helmets of forgotten warriors. During aU the con
vulsions of the Continent, England had remained un
disturbed. When bloody revolutions were storming
through other capitals, London was smilmg o.ver the

1853.

'LEARN WAR NO MORE.' 217

dispersion of the Chartists by a few special constables.
When the armies of Austria, of Russia, of France, of
Sardinia were scattered over vast and various con
tinental battle-grounds, our troops were passing in
peaceful pageantry of review before the well-pleased
eyes of then Sovereign in some stately royal park. A
new school as well as a new generation had sprung up.
This school, fuU of faith but full of practical shrewd
logic as well, was teaching with great eloquence and
effect that the practice of settling international con
troversy by the sword was costly, barbarous, and
blundermg as well as wicked. The practice of the
duel in England had utterly gone out. Battle was
for ever out of fashion as a means of settling private
controversy in England. Why then should it be un
reasonable to believe that the like practice among
nations might soon become equally obsolete?
Such certamly was the faith of a great many
intelligent persons at the time when the Coalition Min
istry was formed. The majority tacitly acquiesced
m the belief without thinking much about it. They
had never m their time seen England engaged in
European war; and it was natural to assume that
what they had never seen they were never likely to
see. Anyone who retraces attentively the history of
English public opinion at that time wiU easUy find
evidence enough of a commonly accepted understand
ing that England had done with great wars. Even
then perhaps a shrewd observer might have been
inclined to conjecture that by the very force of reac
tion a change would soon set in, Man, said Lord

218 A HISTORY OF OUR 0"WN TBIES. cn. xxv.
.Palmerston, is by nature a fighting and quarreUmg
animal. This was one of those smart saucy generali
sations characteristic of its author, and which used to
provoke many graver and more phUosophic persons ;
but which nevertheless often got at the heart of a
question in a rough and ready sort of way. In the
season of which we are now speaking, it was not,
however, the common belief that man was by nature
a fighting and a quarrelling animal, at least in Eng
land. Bad government, the arbitrary power of an
aristocracy, the necessity of finding occupation for a
standing army, the ambitions of princes, the misguid
ing lessons of romance and poetry: these and other
influences had converted man into an instrument of
war. Leave him to his o"wn impulses, his 0"wn nature,
his own ideas of self-interest, and the better teachings
of wiser guides, and he is sure to remain in the paths
of peace. Such was the common belief of the year or
two after the Great Exhibition — the belief fervently
preached by a few and accepted without contradiction
by the majority, as most common beliefs are — the
belief floating in the air of the time, and becoming
part of the atmosphere in which the generation was
brought up. Suddenly all this happy quiet faith was
disturbed, and the long peace, which the hero of Ten
nyson's ' Maud ' says he thought no peace, was over
and done. The hero of ' Maud ' had, it wUl be ob
served, the advantage of explaining his convictions
after the war had broken out. The name was indeed
legion of those who, under the same conditions, dis
covered Uke him that they had never relished th?

1853.

THE OTTOMAN POWER. 219

long long peace, or believed in it much as a peace
at aU. The Eastern Question it was that disturbed the
dream of peace. The use of such phrases as ' the
Eastern Question,' borrowed chiefly from the political
vocabulary of France, is not in general to be com
mended; but we can in this instance find no more
ready and convenient way of expressing clearly and
precisely the meaning of the crisis which had arisen
in Europe. It was strictly the Eastern ' question ' —
the question of what to do with the East of Europe.
It was certam that things could not remain as they
then were, and nothuig else was certain. The Ottoman
power had been settled duruig many centuries m the
South-east of Europe. It had come m there as a
conqueror, and had remained there only as a con
queror occupies the ground his tents are covering.
The Turk had many of the strong qualities and even
the "sdrtues of a great warlike conqueror ; but he had
no capacity or care for the arts of peace. He never
thought of assimUating himself to those whom he had
conquered, or them to him. He disdained to learn
anything from them ; he did not care whether or no
they learned anything from him. It has been weU
remarked, that of all the races who conquered Greeks,
the Turks alone learned nothing from their gifted
captives. Captive Greece conquered all the world
except the Turks. They defied her. She could not
teach them letters or arts, commerce or science. The
Turks were not, as a rule, oppressive to the races that
lived under them. They were not habitual persecu-

220 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES, ch. xxv.
tors of the faiths they deemed heretical. In this
respect they often contrasted favourably with states
that ought to have been able to show them a better
example. In truth, the Turk for the most part was
disposed to look with disdainful composure on what
he considered the religious follies of the heretical
races who did not believe in the Prophet. They
were objects of his scornful pity rather than of his
anger. Every now and then, indeed, some sudden
fierce outburst of fanatical cruelty towards some of
the subject sects horrified Europe, and reminded her
that the conqueror who had settled himself do"wn in
her south-eastern comer was stUl a barbarian who
had no right, or place in civilised life. But as a rule
the Turk did not care enough about the races he
ruled over to feel the impulses of the perverted fanati
cism which would strive to scourge men into the
faith itself believes needful to salvation.
At one time there can be Uttle doubt that aU the
powers of civUised Europe would gladly have seen
the Turk driven out of our Continent, But the
Turk was powerful for a long series of generations,
and it seemed for a whUe rather a question whether
he would not send the Europeans out of their 0"wn
grounds. He was for centuries the great terror, the
nightmare, of Western Europe. When he began to
decay, and when his aggressive strength was practi
cally all gone, it might have been thought that the
Western Powers would then have managed somehow
to get rid of him. But in the meantime the condition
of Europe had greatly changed. No one not actuaUy

1853. SUDDEN GROWTH OF RUSSIA. 221
subject to the Turk was afraid of him any more; and
other States had arisen strong for aggression. The
uncertainties of these States as to the intentions of
their neighbours and each other, proved a better bul
wark for the Turks than any warlike strength of their
0"wn could any longer have furnished. The growth
of the great Russian empire was of itself enough to
change the whole conditions of the problem.
Nothing in our times has been more remark
able than the sudden growth of Russia. The rise
of the United States is not so wonderful ; for the men
who made the United States were civUised men ; men
of our 0"wn race who might be expected to make a
way for themselves anywhere, and who were, more
over, put by destiny m possession of a vast and
splendid continent having all variety of climate and
a limitless productiveness ; and where they had no
neighbours or rivals to molest them. But Russia
was peopled by a race who even down to our own
times remain in many respects little better than semi-
barbarous ; and she had enemies and obstacles on aU
sides. A few generations ago Russia was literally
an inland state. She was shut up in the heart of
Eastern Europe as if m a prison. The genius, the
craft and the audacity of Peter the Great first broke
the narrow bounds set to the Russia of his day, and
extended her frontier to the sea. He was followed
after a reign or two by a woman of genius, daring,
unscrupulousness, and profligacy equal to his o"wn ; the
greatest woman probably who ever sat on a throne
EUiiabeth of England not even excepted. Cathe-

222 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TBIES. cn. xxt.
rine the Second so ably followed the example of Peter
the Great, that she extended the Russian frontier in
directions which he had not had opportunity to
stretch to. By the time her reign was done Russia
was one of the, Great Powers of Europe, entitled to
enter into negotiations on a footing of equality with'
the proudest States of the Continent. UnUke Tur
key, Russia had always showed a yearning after the
latest developments of science and of civUisation.
There was something even of affectation, provoking
the srmles of an older and more ingrained culture, in
the efforts persistently made by Russia to put on
the garments of Western civUisation. Catherine the
Great, in especial, had set the example in this way.
She invited Diderot to her court. She adorned her
cabinet with a bust of Charles James Fox. WhUe
some of the personal habits of herself and of those
who surrounded her at court would have seemed too
rude and coarse for Esquimaux, and whUe she was
putting down free opinion at home with a severity
"worthy only of some mediaeval Asiatic potentate, she
was always talking as though she were a disciple of
Rousseau's ideas and a pupU of Chesterfield ui man
ners. This may have seemed ridiculous enough some
times ; and even in our own days the contrast
between the professions and the practices of Russia is
a familiar subject of satire. But in nations at least-
the homage which imitation pays often wins for half-
conscious hypocrisy as much success as earnest and"
sincere endeavour. A nation that tries to appear
more civUised than it really is ends very often by

1863. RUSSL^ AND TURKEY. 223
becoming more civUised than its neighbours ever
thought it Ukely to be.
The wars against Napoleon brought Russia into
close aUiance "with England, Austria, Prussia, and
other European States of old and advanced civilisa
tion. Russia was, during one part of that great
struggle, the leading spirit of the aUiance against
Napoleon. Her soldiers were seen in Italy and in
France, as well as in the East of Europe. The semi-
savage state became in the eyes of Europe a power
charged along "with others "with the protection of the
conservative interests of the Continent. She was re
cognised as a valuable friend and a most formidable
enemy. GraduaUy it became evident that she could
be aggressive as well as conservative. In the war
between Austria and Hungary, Russia mtervened
and conquered Austrias' rebellious Hungarians for
her. Russia had already earned the hatred of Eu
ropean Liberals by her share in the partition of
Poland and her manner of dealmg with the Poles.
After a whUe it grew to be a fixed conviction in
the mind of the Liberalism of Western Europe that
Russia was the greatest obstacle then existing m
ci"7Uisation to the spread of popular ideas. The
Turk was comparatively harmless in that sense.
He was well content now, so much had his ancient
ambition shrunk and his ancient war spirit gone
out, if his strong and restless neighbours would
only let him alone. But he was brought at more
than one point into especial collision with Russia.
Many of the pro"vdnces he ruled over in European

224 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xxv.
Turkey were of Sclavonian race, and of the reUgion
of the Greek Church. They were thus affined by
a double tie to the Russian people, and therefore the
manner in which Turkey dealt with those pro"rinces
was a constant source of dispute between Russia
and her. The Russians are a profoundly religious
people. No matter what one may think of their form
of faith, no matter how he may sometimes observe
that religious profession contrasts with the daUy
habits of life, yet he cannot but see that the Russian
character is steeped in religious faith or fanaticism.
To the Russian fanatic there was something intolerable
in the thought of a Sclave population, professing
the religion of the orthodox Church, being persecuted
by the Turks. No Russian ruler could hope to be
popular who ventured to show a disregard for the
national sentiment on this subject. The Christian
populations of Turkey were to the Russian sovereigns
what the Germans of Schleswig-Holstein were to the
great German princes of later years, an indirect charge
to which they could not, if they would, profess any
indifference. A German prince, in order to be popu
lar, had to proclaim himself enthusiastic about the
cause of Schleswig-Holstein; a Russian emperor
could not be loved if he did not declare his undying
resolve to be the protector of the Christian popula
tions of Turkey. Much of this was probably sincere
and single-minded on the part of the Russian people
and most of the Russian politicians. But the other
States of Europe began to suspect that mingled up
with benign ideas of protecting the Christian popula-

1853.

TIIE WHL OF PETER TIIE GREAT. 225

tions of Turkey might be a desUe to extend the fron
tier of Russia to the southward in a new direction.
Europe had seen by what craft and what audacious
enterprises Russia had managed to extend her empire
to the sea in other quarters ; it began to be commonly
beUeved that her next object of ambition would be
the possession of Constantinople and the Bosphorus,
It was reported that a "wiU of Peter the Great had left
it as an mjunction to his successors to turn all the
efforts of their policy towards that object. The
particular document which was beUeved to be a wUl
of Peter the Great enjoined on all succeeding Russian
sovereigns never to relax in the extension of their
territory northward on the Baltic and southward on
the Black Sea shores, and to encroach as far as pos
sible in the direction of Constantinople and the Indies.
' To work out this, raise wars continually — at one
time against Turkey, at another against Persia ; make
dockyards on the Black Sea; by degrees make your
selves masters of that sea as well as of the Baltic ;
hasten the decay of Persia, and penetrate to the
Persian Gulf; establish, if possible, the ancient com
merce of the East vid Syria, and push on to the
Indies, which are the entrepdt of the world. Once
there, you need not fear the gold of England.' We
now know that the aUeged "will was not genuine ; but
there could be Uttle doubt that the policy of Peter
and of his great foUower, Catherine, would have been
m thorough harmony with such a project. It there
fore seemed to be the natural business of other Euro
pean powers to see that the defects of the Ottoman
VOL. II, Q

226 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TBIES. cn, xxv.
Government, such as they were, should not be made
an excuse for helping Russia to secure the objects of
her special ambition. One great power, above aU
the rest, had an interest in watching over every
movement that threatened in any way to interfere
with the highway to India; stiU more with her
peaceful and secure possession of India itself That
power, of course, was England. England, Russia,
and Turkey were alike in one respect : they were all
Asiatic as weU as European powers. But Turkey
could never come into any manner of colUsion with
the interests of England in the East, The days of
Turkey's interfering "with any great State were long
over. Neither Russia nor England nor any other
power in Europe or Asia feared her any more. On
the contrary, there seemed something Uke a natural
antagonism between England and Russia in the East.
The Russians were extending their frontier towards
that of our Indian empire. They were sho"wing in
that quarter the same mixture of craft and audacity
which had stood them in good stead in various parts
of Europe. Our officers and diplomatic emissaries
reported that they were continuaUy confronted by
the evidences of Russian intrigue in Central Asia.
We have already seen how much influence the real
or supposed intrigues of Russia had in directing our
poUcy in Afghanistan. Doubtless there was some
exaggeration and some panic in all the tales that
were told of Russian intrigue. Sometimes the alarm
spread by these tales conjured up a kind of Russian
hobgoblin, bewildering the minds of public servants

1853. THE INTEGRITY OF THE TURKISH EMPIRE. 227
and making even statesmen occasionally seem lUce
affrighted children. The question that at present
concerns us is not whether aU the apprehensions of
danger from Russia were just and reasonable, but
whether as a matter of fact they did exist. They
certainly counted for a great deal in determining the
attitude of the EngUsh pfeople towards both Turkey
and Russia. It was in great measure out of these
alarms that there grew up among certain statesmen
and classes Ui this country the con"nction that the
maintenance of the integrity of the Turkish empire
was part of the national duty of England.
It is not too much, therefore, to say that the
States of Europe generaUy desired the maintenance
of the Ottoman empire simply because it was beUeved
that whUe Turkey held her place she was a barrier
against vague dangers which it was not worth whUe
encountering as long as they could possibly be
averted. Sharply defined, the condition of things
was this : Russia, by reason of her sympathy of reU
gion or race with Turkey's Christian populations, was
brought into chronic antagonism with Turkey ; Eng
land, by reason of her Asiatic possessions, was kept
Ui just the same state of antagonism to Russia. The
position of England was trying and difficult. She
felt herself compelled by the seemmg necessity of her
national mterests to maintain the existence of a power
which on its own merits stood condemned, and for
which, as a power, no EngUsh statesman ever cared
to say a word. The position of Russia had more
plausibUity about it. It sounded better when de-
«2

228 A HISTORY OF OUR 0"VVN TIMES. ch. xxt.
scribed in an official document or a popular appeal.
Russia was the religious state which had made it her
mission and her duty to protect the suffering Chris
tians of Turkey. England, let her state her case no
matter how carefuUy or frankly, could only affirm
that her motive in opposmg Russia was the protec
tion of her own interests. One inconvenient result
of this condition of things was that, here among
English people, there was always a wide difference
of opinion as to the national policy with regard to
Russia and Turkey. Many public men of great
abUity and influence were of opinion that England
had no right to uphold the Ottoman power because
of any fancied danger that might come to us from its
fall. It was the simple duty of England, they in
sisted, to be just and fear not. In private life, they
contended, we should all abhor a man who assisted a
ruffian to Uve in a house which he had only got into as
a burglar, merely because there was a chance that the
dispossession of the ruffian might enable his patron's
rival in business to become the owner of the premises.
The duty, they insisted, of a conscientious man is
clear. He must not patronise a ruffian, whatever
comes. Let what will happen, that he must not do.
So it was, according to their argument, with national
poUcy. We are not concerned in discussing this
question just now; we are merely acknowledging a
fact which came to be of material consequence when
the crisis arose that threw England into sudden
antagonism "with Russia.
That crisis came about durmg the later years of

1853. TIIE EMPEROR NICHOLAS. 229
the reign of the Emperor Nicholas. He saw its
opening, but not the close of even its first volume.
Nicholas was a man of remarkable character. He
had many of the ways of an Asiatic despot. He had
a strong ambition, a fierce and fitful temper, a daring
but sometimes too a vacillating wiU. He had
many magnanimous and noble qualities, and moods
of sweetness and gentleness. He reminded people
sometimes of an Alexander the Great; sometimes
of the ' Arabian Nights ' version of Haroun Alras-
chid. A certain excitability ran through the tem
perament of aU his house, v/hich, in some of its
members, broke into actual madness, and in others
prevailed no farther than to lead to wUd outbreaks of
temper such as those that often convulsed the frame
and distorted the character of a Charles the Bold or
a Coeur de Lion. We cannot date the ways and
characters of Nicholas's family from the years of
Peter the Great. We must, for tolerably obvious
reasons, be content to deduce their origin from the
reign of Catherine II. The extraordinary and almost
unparalleled conditions of the early married life of
that much-injured, much-injurmg woman, would
easily account for any aberrations of intellect and
wUl among her immediate descendants. Her son
was a madman; there was madness or something
very Uke it among the brothers of the Emperor
Nicholas. The Emperor at one time was very popu
lar in England. He had visited the Queen, and he
had impressed every one by his noble presence, his
lofty stature, his smgular personal beauty, his blended

230 A IHSTORY OF OUR 0"^'N TBIES. cn. xxt.
dignity and famiUarity of manner, lie taUced as if
he had no higher ambition than to be in friendly
aUiance with England, When he "wished to convey
his impression of the highest degree of personal
loyalty and honour, he always spoke of the word of
an English gentleman. There can, indeed, be Uttle
doubt that the Emperor was sincerely anxious to
keep on terms of cordial friendship with England;
and, what is more, had no idea untU the very last
that the way he was walking was one which England
could not consent to tread. His brother and pre
decessor had been in close alliance with England;
his own ideal hero was the Duke of Wellington ; he
had made up his mmd that when the di"vision of the
spoUs of Turkey came about, England and he could
best consult for their own interests and the peace of
the world by making the appropriation a matter of
joint arrangement.
We do not often in history find a great despot
explaining in advance and in frank words a general
policy lUve that which the Emperor Nicholas cherished
with regard to Turkey. We are usually left to
infer his schemes from his acts. Not uncommonly
we have to set his acts and the fair inferences from
them against his own positive and repeated assur
ances. But in the case of the Emperor Nicholas we
are left in no such doubt. He told England exactly
what he proposed to do. He told the story twice
over ; more than that, he consigned it to "writing for
our clearer understanding. When he visited Eng
land in 1844, for ihe second time, Nicholas had

1844-53. THE NESSELRODE MEMORANDUM. 231
several conversations "with the Duke of WeUington
and with Lord Aberdeen, then Foreign Secretary,
about Turkey and her prospects, and what would be
Ukely to happen in the case of her dissolution, which
he beUeved to be imminent. When he returned to
Russia he had a memorandum dra-wn up by Count
Nessebode, his ChanceUor, embodying the "riews
which, according to Nicholas's impressions, were
entertained alike by him and by the British states
men with whom he had been conversing. Mr. King-
lake says that he sent this document to England with
the view of covering his retreat, having met with no
encouragement from the English statesmen. Our idea
of the matter is different. It may be taken for granted
that the EngUsh statesmen did not give Nicholas
any encouragement, or at least that they did not
intend to do so ; but it seems clear to us that he
believed they had done so. The memorandum dra"wn
up by Count Nesselrode is much more Uke a formal
reminder or record of a general and oral engagement
than a withdrawal from a proposal which was e"vi-
dently not Uliely to be accepted. The memorandum
set forth that Russia and England were aUke pene
trated by the conviction that it was for their common
interest that the Ottoman empire should maintain
itself in its existmg independence and extent of
territory, and that they had an equal interest in
averting aU the dangers that might place its safety
in jeopardy. With this object, the memorandum
declared,-: the essential point was to suffer the Porte
to Umb in repose without needlessly disturbing it by

232 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xxv.
diplomatic bickering. Turkey, however, had a habit
of constantly breaking her engagements; and the
memorandum insisted strongly that whUe she kept
up this practice it was impossible for her integrity to
be secure ; and this practice of hers was indulged in
because she believed she might do so "with impunity,
reckoning on the mutual jealousies of the cabinets,
and thinking that if she failed in her engagements
towards one of them, the rest would espouse her
cause. ' As soon as the Porte shaU perceive that it
is not supported by the other cabinets, it wiU give
way, and the differences which have arisen wUl be
arranged in a conciliatory manner, "without any con
flict resulting from them.' The memorandum spoke
of the imperative necessity of Turkey being led to
treat her Christian subjects with toleration and mUd
ness. On such conditions it was laid do"wn that
England and Russia must alike desire her preserva
tion ; but the document proceeded to say that never
theless these States could not conceal from themselves
the fact that the Ottoman empire contained within
itself many elements of dissolution, and that unfore
seen events might at any time hasten its faU. ' In
the uncertainty which hovers over the future a single
fundamental idea seems to admit of a reaUy practical
appUcation ; that is, that the danger which may result
from a catastrophe Ui Turkey "wUl be much diminished
if in the event of its occurring Russia and England
have come to an understanding as to the course to be
taken by them in common. That understanding wiU
be the more beneficial inasmuch as it wUl have the

1853. NICHOLAS SELF-DECEB^ED. 233
fuU assent of Austria, between whom and Russia
there already exists an entire accord.' This docu
ment was sent to London and kept Ui the archives
of the Foreign Office. It was only produced and
made pubUc when, at a much later day, the Russian
press began to insist that the English Government
had always been in possession of the views of Russia
in regard to Turkey. It seems to us evident that
the Emperor of Russia really believed that his views
were shared by EngUsh state'sinen. The mere fact
that his memorandum was received and retained in
the English Foreign Office might weU of itself tend
to make Nicholas assume that its principles were
recognised by the English Government as the basis
of a common action, or at least a common under
standing, between England and Russia. Nothing is
more easy than to aUow a fanatic or a man of one
idea to suppose that those to whom he explains his
views are convinced by him and in agreement with
him. It is only necessary to Usten and say nothing.
Therefore, it is to be regretted that the English
statesmen should have listened to Nicholas without
saying something very distinct to show that they were
not admitting or accepting any combination of purpose ;
or that they should have received his memorandum
without some distinct disclaimer of their being in
any way bound by its terms. Some of the state
ments in the memorandum were at the least suffi
ciently remarkable to have caUed for comment of
some kind from the EngUsh statesmen who received
it. For example, the Emperor of Russia professed

234 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. ch. xxt.
to have in. his hands not alone the policy of Russia,
but that of Austria as well. He spoke for Austria,
and he stated that he understood himself to be speak
ing for England too. Accordingly, England, Austria,
and Russia were, in his understanding, entering into
a secret conspiracy among themselves for the dis
posal of the territory of a friendly power in the event
of that power getting into difficulties. This might
surely be thought by the EngUsh statesmen to bear
an ominous and painful resemblance to the kind of
pourparlers that were going on between Russia,
Prussia, and Austria before the partition of Poland,
and might well have seemed to caU for a strong and
unmistakable repudiation on the part of England.
We could scarcely have been too emphatic or too
precise in conveying to the Emperor of Russia our
determination to have nothing to do with any such
conspiracy. Time went on and the Emperor thought he saw
an occasion for stUl more clearly explaining his plans
and for reviving the supposed understanding "with
England. Lord Aberdeen came into office as Prime
Mmister of this country ; Lord Aberdeen who was
Foreign Secretary when Nicholas was in England in
1844. On January 9, 1853, before the re-elections
which were consequent upon the new ministerial ap
pointments had yet taken place, the Emperor met our
minister Sir G. Hamilton Seymour, at a party given
by the Archduchess Helen, at her palace in St.
Petersburg, and he drew him aside and began to
talk "with him in the most outspoken manner about

1853. IHE SICK MAN. 235
the future of Turkey and the arrangements it might
be necessary for England and Russia to make regard
ing it. The conversation was renewed again and
again afterwards. Few conversations have had greater
fame than these. One phrase which the Emperor
employed has passed into the famUiar political lan
guage of the world. As long as there is memory of
au Ottoman empire in Europe, so long the Turkey
of the days before the Crimean War wUl be called
' the sick man.' ' We have on our hands,' said the
Emperor, ' a sick man — a very sick man ; it wUl
be a great misfortune if one of these days he should
slip away from us before the necessary arrangements
have been made.' The conversations all tended
towards the one purpose. The Emperor urged that
England and Russia ought to make arrangements
beforehand as to the inheritance of the Ottoman in
Europe — before what he regarded as the approaching
and inevitable day when the sick man must come to
die. The Emperor explained that he did not con
template nor would he aUow a permanent occupation
of Constantinople by Russia ; nor on the other hand
would he consent to see that city held by England or
France or any other great power. He would not
Usten to any plans for the reconstruction of Greece in
the form of a Byzantine empire, nor would he aUow
Turkey to be spUt up into Uttle republics — asylums,
as he said, for the Kossuths and Mazzinis of Europe.
It was not made very clear what the Emperor -wished
to have done "with Constantinople, if it was not to be
Russian, nor Turkish, nor EngUsh, nor French, nor

236 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xxv.
Greek, nor yet a little republic ; but it was evident at
all events that Nicholas had made up his mind as to
what it was not to be. He thought that Servia and
Bulgaria might become independent States; that is
to say, independent States, such as he considered the
Danubian Prmcipalities then to be, ' under my protec
tion.' If the reorganisation of South-Eastern Europe
made it seem necessary to England that she should
take possession of Egypt, the Emperor said he should
offer no objection. He said the same thing of Candia:
if England desired to have that island, he saw no ob
jection. He did not ask for any formal treaty, he
said ; indeed, such arrangements as that are not ge
nerally consigned to formal treaties ; he only "wished
for such an understanding as might be come to among
gentlemen, and he was satisfied that if he had ten
minu.tes' conversation "with Lord Aberdeen the thing
could be easily settled. If only England and Russia
could arrive at an understanding on the subject, he
declared that it was a matter of indifference to him
what other powers might think or say. He spoke of
the several mUlions of Christians in Turkey whose
rights he was called upon to watch over, and he re
marked — the remark is of significance — that the right
of watchmg over them was secured to him by treaty.
The Emperor was evidently under the impression
that the mterests of England and of Russia were
united in this proposed transaction. He had no idea
of anythmg but the most perfect frankness so far as
we were concerned. It clearly had not occurred to
him to suspect that there could be anything dis-

1853. SIR HAMILTON SEYMOUR'S DISCLOSURES. 237
honourable, anything England might recoU from, in
the suggestion that the two powers ought to enter
into a plot to divide the sick man's goods between
them whUe the breath was yet in the sick man's body.
It did not even occur to him that there could be any
thing dishonourable in entering into such a compact
"without the knowledge of any other of the great
European powers. The Emperor desired to act Uke
a man of honour; but the idea of Western honour
was as yet new to Russia, and it had not quite got
possession of the mind of Nicholas. He was like the
savage who is ambitious of leaming the ways of ci-vi-
lisation, and who may be counted on to do whatever
he knows to be in accordance with these ways, but
who is constantly liable to make a mistake simply
from not kno"wing how to apply them in each new
emergency. The very consequences which came from
Nicholas's confidential communications with our min
ister would of themselves testify to his sincerity, and
in a certain sense to his simplicity. But the English
Government never after the disclosures of SU HamU-
ton Seymour put any faith in Nicholas. They re
garded him as nothing better than a plotter. They
did not probably even make aUowance enough for the
degree of religious or superstitious fervour which
accompanied and qualified aU his ambition and his
craft. Human nature is so oddly blent that we ought
not to be surprised if we find a very high degree of
fanatical and sincere fervour in company 'with a crafty
selfishness. The English Government and most of the
English people ever after looked on Nicholas as a de-

238 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xxt.
termined plotter and plimderer, who was not to be made
an associate m any engagement. On the other hand,
Nicholas was as much disappointed as an honest high
wayman of the days of Captain Macheath might have
been who, on making a handsome offer of a share in a
new enterprise to a trusted and famUiar ' pal,' finds that
the latter is taken with a fit of virtuous mdignation and
is hurrying off to Bow Street to tell the whole story.
The EngUsh Minister and the EngUsh Govern
ment could only answer the Emperor's overtures by
saying that they did not think it quite usual to enter
Uito arrangements for the spoliation of a friendly
power, and that England had no desire to succeed to
any of the possessions of Turkey. The Emperor
doubtless did not believe these assurances. He pro
bably felt convinced that England had some game of
her o"wn m hand into which she did not find it con
venient to admit him on terms of partnership. He
must have felt bitterly annoyed at the thought that
he had committed himself so far for nothing. The
communications were of course understood to be
strictly confidential ; and Nicholas had no fear that
they would be given to the public at that time. They
were in fact not made publicly known for more than
a year after. But Nicholas had the dissatisfaction of
knowing that her Jlajesty's miij^isters were now in
possession of his designs. He had the additional dis
comfort of belie-vdng that while he had shown his
hand to them, they had contrived to keep whatever
designs of their o'wn they were preparing a complete
secret from him. One unfortunate admission, the

:853. AN UNLUCKY ADSHSSION. 239
significance of which wUl be seen hereafter, was made
on the part of the English Government during the
correspondence caused by the conversation between
the Emperor and Sir HamUton Seymour. It was
Lord John RusseU who, inadvertently no doubt, made
this admission. In his letter to Sir HamUton Sey
mour on February 9, 1853, he wound up with the
words, ' The more the Turkish Govemment adopts
the rules of impartial law and equal administration,
the less 'wUl the Emperor of Russia find it necessary
to apply that exceptional protection which his Imperial
Majesty has found so burthensome and inconvenient,
though no doubt prescribed by duty and sanctioned
by treaty.' These conversations with Sir HamUton Seymour
formed but an episode in the history of the events
that were then gomg on. It was an episode of great
importance, even to the immediate progress of the
events, and it had much to do "with the turn they
took towards war ; but there were great forces mo"ring
towards antagonism m the South-East of Europe that
must m any case have come into coUision. Russia,
•with her ambitions, her tendency to enlarge her fron
tier on all sides, and her natural sympathies of race
and reUgion with the Christian and Sclave populations
under Turkish rule, must before long have come into
active hostUity mth the Porte. -Even at the pre
sent somewhat critical time we are not under any
necessity to persuade ourselves that Russia was actu
ated in the movements she made by merely sel
fish ambition and nothing else ; that aU the "wrono-

240 A HISTORY OF OUR O'WN TBIES. cn. xxv.
was on her side of the quarrel and all the right upon
ours. It may be conceded "without any abrogation
of patriotic English sentiment that in standing up for
the populations so closely affined to her in race and
religion, Russia was acting very much as England
would have acted under simUar circumstances.
If we can imagine a number of English and Chris
tian populations under the sway of some Asiatic
despot on the frontiers of our Indian empire, we
shaU admit that it is likely the sentiments of aU
Englishmen in India would be extremely sensitive
on their behalf, and that it would not be difficult to
get us to believe that we were called upon to interfere
for their protection. Certainly aiiyone who should
try to persuade us that after all these Englishmen
were nearly as well off under the Asiatic and despotic
rule as many other people, or as they deserved to be,
would not have much chance of a patient hearing
from us.
The Russian Emperor fell back a little after
the faUure of his efforts "with Sir Hamilton Sey
mour, and for a whUe seemed to agree with tho
EngUsh Government as to the necessity of not embar
rassing Turkey by pressing too severely upon her.
He was no doubt seriously disappointed when he
found that England would not go with him ; and his
calculations were put out by the discovery. He
therefore saw himself compelled to act with a certain
moderation while feeling his way to some other mode
of attack. But the natural forces which were in ope
ration did not depend on the will of any empire or

1853. THE CUSTODY OF THE HOLY PLACES. 241
government for their tendency. Nicholas would have
had to move in any case. There is really no such thing
in modern politics as a genuine autocrat. Nicholas
of Russia could no more afford to overlook the e"vi-
dences of popular and national feeling among his
people than an English sovereign could. He was a
despot by -virtue of the national wUl which he em
bodied. The national wUl was in decided antagonism
to the tendencies of the Ottoman power in Europe ;
and afterwards to the policy which the English Go
vernment felt themselves compelled to adopt for the
support of that power against the schemes of the
Emperor of Russia.
There had long been going on a dispute about the
Holy Places in Palestine. The claims of the Greek
Church and those of the Latin Church were in an
tagonism there. The Emperor of Russia was the
protector of the Greek Church ; the Kings of France
had long had the LatUi Church under their protec
tion. France had never taken our views as to the
necessity of maintaining the Ottoman power in Europe.
On the contrary, as we have seen, the policy of Eng
land and that of France were so decidedly opposed at
the time when France favoured the independence of
Egypt, and England would not hear of it, that the
two countries very nearly came to war. Nor did
France really feel any very profound sympathy with
the pretensions which the Latin monks were con
stantly making in regard to the Holy Places. There
was unquestionably downright religious fanaticism
on the part of Russia to back up the demands of the
VOL. II. K

242 A HISTORY OF OUR O'WN TIMES. cn. .xxt.
Greek Church ; but we can hardly beUeve that opi
nion in France or in the cabinets of French Ministers
really concerned itself much about the Latin monks
except in so far as political purposes might be sub
served by paying some attention to them. But it
happened somewhat unfortunately that the French
Govemment began to be unusually active in pushing
the Latin claims just then. The whole dispute on
which the fortunes of Europe seemed for a while to
depend was of a strangely mediaeval character. The
Holy Places to which the Latins raised a claim, were
the great Church in Bethlehem ; the Sanctuary of the
Nativity, "with the right to place a new star there
(that which formerly ornamented it ha"ving been
lost) ; the tomb of the Virgin ; the Stone of Anoint
ing ; the Seven Arches of the Virgin in the Church
of the Holy Sepulchre. In the reign of that remark
ably pious, truthful, and virtuous monarch, Francis
the First of France, a treaty was made "with the Sultan
by which France was acknowledged the protector of
the Holy Places in Palestine, and of the monks of the
Latin Church who took on themselves the care of the
sacred monuments and memorials. But the Greek
Church afterwards obtained firmans from the Sultan;
each Sultan gave away privileges very much as it
pleased him, and withoiit taking much thought of the
manner in which his firman might affect the treaties
of his predecessors ; and the Greeks claimed on the
strength of these concessions that they had as good a
right as the Latins to take care of the Holy Places.
Disputes were always arising, and of course these

1853. GREEKS AND LATINS. 243
were aggravated by the fact that France was supposed
to be concerned in the protection of one set of dis
putants and Russia in that of another. The French
and the Russian Governments did in point of fact
interfere from time to time for the purpose of making
good their claims. The claims at length came to be
identified with the States which respectively protected
them. An advantage of the smaUest kind gained by
the Latins was viewed as an insult to Russia ; a con
cession to the Greeks was a snub to France, The
subject of controversy seemed tri'vial and odd in itself
But it had even in itself a profounder significance
than many a question of diplomatic etiquette which
has led great States to the verge of war or into war
itself. Mr. Kinglake, whose brUUant history of the
Invasion of the Crimea is too often disfigured by
passages of solemn and pompous monotony, has super
fluously devoted several eloquent pages to prove that
the sacredness of association attaching to some par
ticular spot has its roots in the very soU of human
nature. The custody of the Holy Places was in this
instance a symbol of a religious inheritance to the
monastic disputants, and of poUtical power to the
cUplomatists. It was France which first stirred the controversy
in the time just before the Crimean War. That fact
is beyond dispute. Lord John RusseU had hardly
come into office when he had to observe in writing to
Lord Cowley, our ambassador in Paris, that ' her
Majesty's Government cannot avoid perceiving that
the ambassador of France at Constantinople was the
e2

244 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xxt.
first to disturb the status quo in which the matter
rested.' 'Not,' Lord John RusseU went on to say,
' that the disputes of the Latin and Greek Churches
were not very active, but "without some poUtical
action on the part of France those quarrels would
never have troubled the relations of friendly powers.'
Lord John RusseU also complained that the French
ambassador was the first to speak of ha'vdng re
course to force, and to threaten the intervention of
a French fleet. ' I regret to say,' the despatch con
tinued, 'that this evU example has been partly fol
lowed by Russia.' The French Government were
indeed unusuaUy active at that time. The French
ambassador, M. de Lavalette, is said to have threat
ened that a French fleet should appear off Jaffa, and
even hinted at a French occupation of Jerusalem,
' when,' as he significantly put it, ' we should have
aU the sanctuaries.' One French army occupying
Rome and another occupying Jerusalem would have
left the world in no doubt as to the supremacy of
France. The cause of aU this energy is not far to
seek. The Prince President had only just succeeded
in procuring himself to be mstaUed as Emperor ; and
he was very anxious to distract the attention of
Frenchmen from domestic politics to some showy
and startlmg policy abroad. He was Ui quest of a
policy of adventure. This controversy between the
Church of the East and the Church of the West
tempted him mto activity as one that seemed likely
enough to give him an opportmiity of displaying the
power of France and of the new system without any

1774-1853. THE TREATY OF KAINARDJI. 245
very great danger or responsibility. Technically there
fore we are entitled to lay the blame of disturbing the
peace of Europe in the first mstance on the Emperor
of the French. But whUe we must condemn the
restless and self-interested spirit which thus set itself
to stir up disturbance, we cannot help seeing that the
quarrel must have come at some time even if the
plebiscite had never been in"vited, and a new Emperor
had never been placed upon the throne of France.
The Emperor of Russia had made up his mind that
the time had come to divide the property of the sick
man, and he was not likely to remain long without
an opportunity of quarrelling with anyone who
stood at the side of the sick man's bed and seemed
to constitute himself a protector of the sick man's
interests. The key of the whole controversy out of which
the Eastern war arose, and out of which indeed aU
subsequent compUcations in the East came as weU,
was said to be found in a clause of the treaty of
Kutchuk-Kainardji. During the negotiations for
peace that took place in Vienna while the Crimean
War was yet going on, the assembled plenipotentiaries
declared that the whole dispute was owing to a mis
interpretation of a clause in this unfortunate treaty.
In a time much nearer to our o"wn, the discussion on
the same clause in the same treaty was renewed "with
aU the old earnestness ; and "with the same difference
of interpretation. It may not perhaps give an un
initiated reader any very exalted opinion of the utUity
and beauty of diplomatic arrangements, to hear that

246 A HISTORY OF OUR O'WN TBIES. ch. xxv
disputes covering more than a century of time, and
causing at least two great wars, arose out of the
impossibility of reconcUing two different interpreta
tions of the meaning of two or three lines of a treaty.
The American ci'vU war was said with much justice
to have been fought to obtain a definition of the
limits of the rights of the separate States as laid
down in the constitution ; the Crimean War was
apparently fought to obtain a satisfactory and final
definition of the seventh clause of the Treaty of
Kainardji ; and it did not fulfil its purpose. The
historic value therefore of this seventh clause may
in one sense be considered greater than that of the
famous disputed words which provoked the censure
of the Jansenists and the immortal letters of Pascal.
The Treaty of Kutchuk-Kainardji was made in
1774, between the Ottoman Porte and Catherine IL
of Russia. On sea and land the arms of the great
Empress had been victorious. Turkey was beaten
to her knees. She had to give up Azof and Tagan
rog to Russia, and to declare the Crimea independent
of the Ottoman empire ; an event which it is almost
needless to say was followed not many years after by
the Russians taking the Crimea for themselves and
making it a province of Catherine's empire. The
Treaty of Kainardji, as it is usuaUy caUed, was that
which made the arrangements for peace. When it
exacted from Turkey such hea"vy penalties in the
shape of cession of territory, it was hardly supposed
that one seemingly msignificant clause was destined
to threaten the very existence of the Turkish empire.

1774-1853. THE TWO CLAUSES. 247
The treaty bore date July 10, 1774 ; and it was
made, so to speak, m the tent of the victor. The
seventh clause declared that the Sublime Porte pro
mised 'to protect constantly the Christian religion
and its churches ; and also to aUow the mmister of
the Imperial Court of Russia to make on aU occasions
representations as well in favour of the new church
in Constantinople, of which mention will be made in
the fourteenth article, as in favour of those who
officiate therem, promismg to take such representa
tions mto due consideration as being made by a con
fidential functionary of a neighbouring and smcerely
friendly power.' Not much possibUity of misunder-
standmg about these words, one might feel inclined
to say. We turn then to the fourteenth article
alluded to, in order to discover if in its wording
Ues the perplexity of meaning which led to such
momentous and calamitous results. We find that
by this article it is simply permitted to the Court of
Russia to buUd a public church of the Greek rite
m the Galata quarter of Constantmople, in addition
to the chapel buUt in the house of the mmister ; and
it is declared that the new church ' shaU be always
under the protection of the ministers of the (Russian)
empUe, and shielded from aU obstruction and all
damage.' Here, then, we seem to have two clauses
of the simplest meaning and by no means of first-
class importance. The latter clause aUows Russia
to buUd a new church in Constantinople ; the former
allows the Russian minister to make representations
to the Porte on behalf of the church and of those

248 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xxv.
who officiate in it. What difference of opmion, it
may be asked, could possibly arise ? The difference
was this : Russia claimed a right of protectorate over
aU the Christians of the Greek Church in Turkey as
the consequence of the seventh clause of the treaty.
She insisted that when Turkey gave her a right to
interfere on behalf of the worshippers in one par
ticular church, the same right extended so far as to
cover aU the worshippers of the same denomination
in every part of the Ottoman dominions. The great
object of Russia throughout aU the negotiations that
preceded the Crimean War was to obtain from the
Porte an admission of the existence of such a protec
torate. Such an acknowledgment would, in fact, have
made the Emperor of Russia the patron and all but the
ruler of by far the larger proportion of the populations
of European Turkey. The Sultan would no longer
have been master in his own dominions. The Greek
Christians would naturaUy have regarded the Russian
Emperor's right of intervention on their behalf as
constituting a protectorate far more powerful than
the nominal rule of the Sultan. They would have
known that the ultimate decision of any dispute in
which they were concerned rested with the Emperor,
and not "with the Sultan ; and they would soon have
come to look upon the Emperor, and not the Sultan,
as their actual sovereign.
Now it. does not seem likely on the face of things
that any ruler of a state would have consented to
hand over to a more powerful foreign monarch such a
right over the great majority of his subjects. StUl, if

1853. MR. GLADSTONE'S ARGTOIENT. 249
Turkey, driven to her last defences, had no alternative
but to make such a concession, the Emperors of
Russia could not be blamed for insisting that it
should be carried out. The terms of the article in
the treaty itself certainly do hot seem to admit of
such a construction. But for the "views always advo
cated by Mr. Gladstone, we should say it was self-evi
dent that the article never had any such meaning.
We cannot, however, dismiss the argument of such a
man as Mr. Gladstone as if it were unworthy of con
sideration, or say that an interpretation is obviously
erroneous which he has deUberately and often de
clared to be accurate. We may as weU mention here
at once that Mr. Gladstone rests his argument on the
first Une of the famous article. The promise of the
Sultan, he contends, to protect constantly the Chris
tian religion and its churches, is an engagement dis
tinct in itself, and disconnected from the engagement
that foUows in the same clause, and which refers to
the new buUding and its ministrants. The Sultan
engages to protect the Christian churches ; and "with
whom does he enter into this engagement ? With
the Sovereign of Russia. Why does he make this
engagement ? Because he has been defeated by Rus
sia and compeUed to accept terms of peace ; and one
of the conditions on which he is admitted to peace
is his making this engagement. How does he make
the engagement ? By an article in a treaty agreed to
between him and the Sovereign of Russia, But if a
state enters into treaty engagement "with another that
it wUl do a certain thmg, it is clear that the other

250 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xxv.
state must have a special right of remonstrance and
of representation if the thing be not done. Therefore
Mr. Gladstone argues that as the Sultan made a
special treaty with Russia to protect the Christians,
he gave in the very nature of things a special right to
Russia to complain if the protection was not given.
We are far from denying that there is force in the
argument ; and it is at aU events worthy of being re
corded for its mere historical importance. But Mr,
Gladstone's was certainly not the European interpre
tation of the clause ; nor does it seem to us the in
terpretation that history wUl accept. Lord John
Russell, as we have seen, made a somewhat unlucky
admission that the claims of Russia to a protectorate
were 'prescribed by duty and sanctioned by treaty,'
But this admission seems rather to have been the re
sult of inadvertence or heedlessness, than of any deli
berate intention to recognise the particular claim
involved. The admission was afterwards made the
occasion of many a severe attack upon Lord John
RusseU by Mr, DisraeU and other leading members
of the Opposition, Assuredly Lord John RusseU's
admission, if it is really to be regarded as such,
was not endorsed by the EngUsh Government,
Whenever we find Russia puttmg the claim into plain
words, we find England, through her ministers, re
fusing to give it their acknowledgment. During the
discussions before the Crimean War, Lord Clarendon,
our Foreign Secretary, "wrote to Lord Stratford de
RedcUffe a letter embodying the views of the EngUsh
Government on the claim. No sovereign, Lord

1853.

PRINCE MENTSCmKOFF. 251

Clarendon says, having a due regard for his own
dignity and independence, could admit proposals
which conferred upon a foreign and more powerful
sovereign a right of protection over his o"wn subjects.
'If such a concession were made, the result,' as
Lord Clarendon pointed out, ' would be that fourteen
mUUons of Greeks would henceforward regard the
Emperor as their supreme protector, and their aUe-
giance to the Sultan would be little more than nomi
nal, whUe his own independence would dwindle mto
vassalage.' Diplomacy, therefore, was powerless to
do good during all the protracted negotiations that
set in, for the plain reason that the only object of
the Emperor of Russia ui entermg upon negotiation
at aU was one which the other European powers
regarded as absolutely inadmissible.
The dispute about the Holy Places was easUy
settled. The Porte cared very little about the
matter, and was wiUing enough to come to any fair
terms by which the whole controversy could be got
rid of. But the demands of Russia went on just as
before. Prince Mentschikoff, a man of the Potemkui
school, fierce, rough and unable or mi"wUling to con
trol his temper, was sent "with demands to Constan
tinople ; and his very manner of makmg the demands
seemed as if it were taken up for the purpose of
ensuring their rejection. If the envoy fairly repre
sented the sovereign, the demands must have been so
conveyed with the deUberate intention of immediately
and irresistibly driving the Turks to reject every
proposition coming from such a negotiator. Mentschi-

252 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TBIES. cn. xxt.
koff brought his proposals with him cut and dry in
the form of a convention which he called upon Turkey
to accept without more ado. In other words, he put
a pistol at Turkey's head and told her to sign at once
or else he would pull the trigger. Turkey refused,
and Prmce Mentschikoff withdrew in real or affected
rage, and presently the Emperor Nicholas sent two
divisions of his army across the Pruth to take pos
session of the Danubian prmcipalities.
Diplomacy, however, did not give in even then.
The Emperor announced that he had occupied the
principalities not as an act of war, but with the "riew
of obtaining material guarantees for the concession of
the demands which Turkey had already declared that
she would not concede. The English Government
advised the Porte not to treat the occupation as an
act of war, although fully admitting that it was strictly
a casus belli, and that Turkey would have been amply
justified in meeting it by an armed resistance if it
were prudent for her to do so. It would of course
have been treated as war by any strong Power. We
might well have retorted upon Russia the harsh but
not wholly unjustifiable language she had employed
towards us when we seized possession of material
guarantees from the Greek Government in the har
bour of the Piraeus. In our act, however, there was
less of that which constitutes war than in the arbi
trary conduct of Russia. Greece did not declare that
our demands were such as she could not admit in
principle. She did admit most of them in principle,
but was only, as it seemed to our Govemment, or at

1853. THE VIENNA NOTE. 253
least to Lord Palmerston, trying to evade an actual
settlement. There was nothmg to go to war about ;
and our seizure of the ships, objectionable as it was,
might be described as only a way of getting hold of a
material guarantee for the discharge of a debt which
was not in principle disputed. But in the dispute
between Russia and Turkey the claim was rejected
altogether ; it was declared intolerable ; its principle
was absolutely repudiated, and any overt act on the
part of Russia must therefore have had for its object
to compel Turkey to submit to a demand which she
would yield to force alone. This is of course in the
very spirit of war ; and if Turkey had been a stronger
Power, she would never have dreamed of meeting it
in any other way than by an armed resistance. She
was, however, strongly advised by England and other
Powers to adopt a moderate course ; and, in fact,
throughout the whole of the negotiations she showed
a remarkable self-control and a dignified courtesy
which must sometimes have been very vexing to her
opponent. Diplomacy went to work again, and a
Vienna note was concocted which Russia at once
offered to accept. The four great Powers who were
carrying on the business of mediation were at first
quite charmed -with the note, with the readiness of
Russia to accept it, and with themselves ; and but for
the interposition of Lord Stratford de RedcUffe it
seems highly probable that it would have been agreed
to by all the parties concerned. Lord Stratford, how
ever, saw plainly that the note was a virtual con
cession to Russia of all that she specially desired to

254 A HISTORY OF OUR O'WN TBIES. cn. xxt.
have, and aU that Europe was unwUling to concede
to her. The great object of Russia was to obtain an
acknowledgment, however vague or covert, of her
protectorate over the Christians of the Greek Church .
in the Sultan's dominions ; and the Vienna note was
so constructed as to affirm much rather than to deny
the claim which Russia had so long been setting up.
Assuredly such a note could at some future time have ,
been brought out in triumph by Russia as an over
whelming evidence of the European recognition of
such a protectorate.
Let us make this a little more plain. Suppose
the question at issue were as to the payment of a
tribute claimed by one prince from another. The
one had been always insisting that the other was his
vassal, bound to pay him tribute ; the other always
repudiated the claim in principle. This, was the
subject of dispute. After a whUe the question is left
to arbitration, and the arbitrators, without actuaUy
declaring in so many words that the claim to the
tribute is established, yet go so far as to direct the .
payment of a certain sum of money, and do not in
troduce a single word to show that in their opinion
the original claim was unjust in principle. Would
not the claimant of the tribute be fully entitled in
after years, if any new doubt of his claim were
raised, to appeal to this arbitration as confirming it ?
Would he not be entitled to say, ' The dispute was
about my right to tribute. Here is a document
awarding to me the payment of a certain sum, and
not containing a word to show that the arbitrators

1853. LORD STRATFORD DE REDCLIFFE. 255
disputed the principle of my claim. Is it possible
to construe that other-wise than as a recognition of
my claim ? ' We certainly cannot think it would have
been otherwise regarded by any impartial mind. The
very readiness with which Russia consented to accept
the Vienna note ought to have taught its framers
that Russia found aU her account in its vague and
ambiguous language. The Prince Consort said it
was a trap laid by Russia through Austria ; and it
seems hardly possible to regard it now in any other
light. The Turkish Government, therefore, acting under
the ad-vice of Lord Stratford de RedcUffe, our ambas
sador to Constantinople, who had returned to his post
after a long absence, declined to accept the Vienna
note unless with considerable modifications. Lord
Stratford de Redcliffe showed great acuteness and
force of character throughout all these negotiations.
A reader of Mr. Kinglake's history is sometimes apt
to become nauseated by the absurd pompousness with
which the historian overlays his descriptions of ' the
great Eltchi,' as he is pleased to call him, and is in-
cUned to wish that the great Eltchi could have im
parted some of his own sober gravity and severe
simplicity of style to his adulator. Mr. Kinglake "writes
of Lord Stratford de Redcliffe as if he were describing
the all-compelling movements of some divinity or
pro"vidence. A devoted imperial historian would have
made himself ridiculous by writing of the Great Na
poleon at the height of his power in language of such
inflated mysticism as this educated Englishman has

256 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. ch. xxt.
aUowed himself to employ when describing the manner
in which our ambassador to Constantinople did his
duty during the days before the Crimean War. But
the extraordinary errors of taste and good sense into
which Mr. Kinglake occasionally descends cannot
prevent us from doing justice to the keen judgment
and the inflexible "wUl which Lord Stratford displayed
during this critical time. He saw the fatal defect of
the note which, prepared in Paris, had been brought
to its supposed perfection at Vienna, and had there
received the adhesion of the English Government
along with that of the governments of the other
great Powers engaged in the conference. A hint
from Lord Stratford made the Ministers of the Porte
consider it with suspicious scrutiny, and they too saw
its weakness and its conscious or unconscious treachery.
They declared that unless certain modifications were
introduced they would not accept the note. The
reader wUl at first think perhaps that some of these
modifications were mere splittings of hairs and diplo
matic, worse even than lawyer-like, quibbles. But in
truth the alterations demanded were of the greatest
importance for Turkey. The Porte had to thinlc, not
of the immediate purpose of the note, but of the ob
jects it might be made to serve afterwards. It con
tained, for instance, words which declared that the
Government of his Majesty the Sultan would remain
' faithful to the letter and the spirit of the stipulations
of the Treaties of Kainardji and of Adrianople, rela
tive to the protection of the Christian religion.' These
words, in a note drawn up for the purpose of satisfying

1853. 'NEARLY CAUGHT IN A TRxiP.' 257
the Emperor of Russia, could not but be understood
as recognising the interpretation of the Treaty of
Kainardji on which Russia has always insisted. The
Porte therefore proposed to strike out these words and
substitute the following : ' To the stipulations of the
Treaty of Kainardji, confirmed by that of Adrianople,
relative to the protection by the Sublime Porte of the
Christian reUgion.' By these words the Turkish
ministers quietly affirm that the only protectorate
exercised over the Christians of Turkey is that of the
Sultan of Turkey himself. The difference is simply
that between a claim conceded and a claim repudiated.
The Russian Government refused to accept the modifi
cations; and in arguing, against them, the Russian min
ister. Count Nesselrode, made it clear to the English
Government that Lord Stratford de RedcUffe was right
when he held the note to be fuU of weakness and of
error. For the Russian minister argued against the
modifications on the very ground that they denied to
the claims of Russia just that satisfaction that the
statesmanship and the public opinion of Europe
had always agreed to refuse. The Prince Consort's
expression was appropriate : the Western Powers had
nearly been caught in a trap.
From that time aU hopes of peace were over.
There were, to be sure, other negotiations stUl. A
ghastly semblance of faith in the possibiUty of a
peaceful arrangement was kept up for a whUe on
both sides. Little plans of adjustment were tinkered
up and tried, and fell to pieces the moment they
were tried. It is not necessary for us to describe
VOL. II. S

258 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xxv.
them. Not many persons put any faith or even pro^
fessed any interest in them. They were conducted
amid the most energetic preparations for war on both
sides. Our troops were moving towards Malta ; the
streets of London, of Liverpool, of Southampton, and
other towns, were ringing "with the cheers of enthu
siastic crowds gathered together to watch the march
ing of troops destined for the East, Turkey had
actually declared war against Russia, People now
were anxious rather to see how the war would open
between Russia and the aUies than when it would
open : the time when could evidently only be a ques
tion of a few days ; the way how was a matter of
more peculiar interest. We had kno"wn so little of war
for nearly forty years, that added to all the other emo
tions which the coming of battle must bring was the
mere feeling of curiosity as to the sensation produced
by a state of war. It was an abstraction to the U"ring
generation — a thmg to read of and discuss and make
poetry and romance out of ; but they could not yet
realise what itself was Uke.

1853. 259

CHAPTER XXVL
WHERE WAS LOED PALMERSTON ?
Meantime where was Lord Palmerston ? He of aU
men, one would think, must have been pleased with
the turn things were taking. He had had from the
beginning little faith in any issue of the negotiations
but war. Probably he did not reaUy wish for any
other result. We are weU inclined to agree "with Mr.
Einglake that of aU the members of the Cabinet he
alone clearly saw his way, and was satisfied "with the
prospect. But according to the supposed nature of
his office he had now nothing to do "with the war or
with foreign affairs except as every member of the
Cabinet shares the responsibUities of the whole body.
He had apparently about as much to do with the war
as the Postmaster-General, or the ChanceUor for the
Duchy of Lancaster, might have. He had accepted
the office of Home Secretary ; he had declared that he
did not choose to be Foreign Secretary any more. He
affirmed that he wanted to learn something about
home affairs, and to get to understand his country
men ; and so forth. He was reaUy very busy aU this
time in his new duties. Lord Palmerston was a re
markably efficient and successful Home Secretary.
His unceasing activity loved to show itself ia what-
b2

260 A HISTORY OF OUR 0"WN TIMES. ch. xxtx.
ever department he might be caUed upon to occupy.
He brought to the somewhat prosaic duties of his new
office, not only all the virUe energy, but also all the
enterprise which he had formerly sh6"wii in managing
revolutions and dictating to foreign courts. ^The
ticket-of-leave system dates from the time of his ad
ministration. Our transportation system had broken
down, for in fact the colonies would stand it no
longer, and it fell to Lord Palmerston to find some
thing to put in its place; and the plan of granting
tickets-of-leave to convicts who had shown that they
were capable of regeneration was the outcome of the
necessity and of his administration. The measures
to abate the smoke nuisance by compelling factories
under penalties to consume their o"wn smoke, is also
the offspring of Palmerston's activity in the Home
Office. The Factory Acts were extended by him. He
went energetically to work in the shutting up of
graveyards in the metropolis ; and in' a letter to his
brother he declared that he should Uke to ' put domi
beershops, and let shopkeepers seU beer Uke oil, and
vinegar, and treacle, to be carried home and drunk
with wives and chUdren.'
This Uttle project is worthy of notice because
it iUustrates more fairly perhaps than some far greater
plan might do at once the strength and the weakness
of Palmerston's intelligence. He could not see "w'hy
everything should not be done in a plain straightfor
ward way, and why the arrangements that were good
for the sale of one thing might not be good also
for the sale of another. He did not stop to inquire

1853. PALMERSTON IN THE HOME OFFICE. 261
whether as a matter of fact beer is a commodity at all
like oil, and "vinegar, and treacle; whether the same
consequences follow the drinking of beer and the con
sumption of treacle. His critics said that he was apt
to manage his foreign affairs on the same rough-and-
ready principle. If a system suited England, why
should it not suit aU other places as weU ? If treacle
may be sold safely "without any maimer of authorita
tive regulation, why not beer ? The answer to the
latter question is plain — because treacle is not beer.
So, people said, "with Palmerston's constitutional pro
jects for every place. Why should not that which
suits England suit also Spain ? Because, to begin
"with, a good many people urged, Spain is not Eng
land, There was one department of his duties in which
Palmerston was acquiring a new and a somewhat odd
reputation. That was in his way of answering depu
tations aud letters, ' The mere routine business of
the Home Office,' Palmerston "writes to his brother,
' as far as that consists in daUy correspondence, is
far Ughter than that of the Foreign Office, But during
a session of ParUament the whole time of the Secre
tary of State, up to the time when he must go to the
House of Commons, is taken up by deputations of all
kinds, and inter-views "with members of ParUament,
militia colonels, etc' Lord Palmerston was always
ci"vdl and cordial ; he was full of a pecuUar kind of
fresh common sense, and always ready to apply it to
any subject whatever. He could at any time say some
racy thing which set the pubUc wondering and laugh-

262 A IHSTORY OF OUR OWN TBIES. ch. xxvr,
ing. He gave something Uke a shock to the Pres
bytery of Edinburgh when they wrote to him through
the moderator to ask whether a national fast ought,
not to be appointed in consequence of the appearance
of cholera. Lord Palmerston gravely admonished
the Presbytery that the Maker of the universe had
appointed certain laws of nature for the planet on
which we live, and that the weal or woe of mankind
depends on the observance of those laws, — one of
them connecting health ' "with the absence of those
noxious exhalations which proceed from overcrowded
human beings, or from decomposing substances
whether animal or vegetable.' He therefore recom
mended that the purification of to"wns and cities
should be more strenuously carried on, and remarked
that the causes and sources of contagion, if allowed to
remain, ' wUl infaUibly breed pestUence and be fruit
ful in death, in spite of aU the prayers and fastings of
a united but inactive nation.' When Lord Stanley
of Alderley applied to Lord Palmerston for a special
permission for a deceased dignitary of a church to be
buried under the roof of the sacred buUding, the
Home Secretary declined to accede to the request in a
letter that might have come from, or might have de
lighted, Sydney Smith. ' What special connection is
there between church dignities and the privUege of
being decomposed under the feet of survivors ? Do
you seriously mean to imply that a soul is more
Ukely to go to heaven because the body which it
inhabited lies decomposing under the pavement of a
church instead of being placed in a churchyard ? . . .

1853. 'RIDENTEM DICERE VERUM.' 263
England is, I beUeve, the only country in which in
these days people accumulate putrefying dead bodies
amid the dwellings of the U-vdng ; and as to burying
bodies under thronged churches, you might as well
put them under Ubraries, dra"wing-rooms, and dining-
rooms.' Lord Palmerston did not see what a very large
field of reUgious and phUosophical controversy he
opened up by some of his arguments, both as to
the fasting and as to the burial in churchyards.
He only saw, for the moment, what appeared to
him the healthy common- sense aspect of the position
he had taken up, and did not think or care about
what other positions he might be surrendering by the
very act. He had not a poetic or phUosophic mind.
In clearing his inteUigence from all that he would
have called prejudice or superstition, he had cleared
out also much of the deeper sympathetic faculty which
enables one man to understand the feelings and get
at the springs of conduct in the breasts of other men.
No one can doubt that his jaunty way of treating
grave and disputed subjects offended many pure and
simple minds. Yet it was a mistake to suppose that
mere le"vity dictated his way of dealing "with the pre
judices of others. He had often given the question
his deepest attention, and come to a conclusion with
as much thought as his temperament would have
aUowed to any subject. The difference between him
and graver men "was that when he had come to a con
clusion seriously, he loved to express his views
humorously. He resembled in this respiect some of

264 A HISTORY OF OLTl OWN TIMES. en. xxvi.
the greatest and the most earnest men of his time.
Count Cavour deUghted in jocose and humorous
answers ; so did President Lincoln ; so at one period
of his pubUc career did Prince Bismarck. But there
can be no doubt that Palmerston often made enemies
by his seeming levity when another man could easUy
have made friends by saying just the same thing in
grave words. The majority of the House of Com
mons Uked him because he amused them and made
them laugh ; and they thought no more of the matter.
But the war is now fairly launched ; and Pal
merston is to aU appearance what would be "vnUgarly
caUed ' out of the s"wim,' Every eye was turned to
him. He was Uke Pitt standing up on one of the
back benches to support the administration of Ad
dington, For years he had been identified "with the
Foreign Office, and with that sort of foreign pohcy
which would seem best suited to the atmosphere of
war ; and now war is on foot, and Palmerston is in
the Home Office pleasantly ' chaffing ' miUtia colonels
and making sensitive theologians angry by the flip
pancy of his repUes, Perhaps there was something
flattering to Palmerston's feeUng of self-love in the
curious wonder "with which people turned their eyes
upon him during aU that interval. Everyone seemed
to ask how the country was to get on without hiBa
to manage its foreign affairs,, and when he would be
good enough to come do"wn from his quiet seat in the
Home Office and assume what seemed his natural
duties, A famous tenor singer of our day once had
Bome quarrel with his manager. The singer "with-

1853, PALMERSTON'S RESIGNATION, 265
drew from the company ; someone else had to be put
in his place. On the first night when the new man
made his appearance before the public, the great
singer "was seen in a box calmly watching the per
formance like any other of the audience. The new
man turned out a faUure. The eyes of the house
began to fix themselves upon the one who could sing,
but who was sitting as unconcernedly in his box as
if he never meant to sing any more. The audience
at first were incredulous. It was in a great pro
vincial city where the singer had always been a prime
favourite. They could not believe that they were in
good faith to be expected to put up with bad singing
whUe he was there. At last their patience gave way.
They insisted on the one singer leaving his place on
the stage, and the other coming down from his box
and his easy attitude of unconcern, and resuming
what they regarded as his proper part. They would
have their way ; they carried their point ; and the
man who could sing was compeUed at last to return
to the scene of his old triumphs and sing for them
again. The attitude of Lord Palmerston, and the
manner in which the pubUc eyes were turned upon
him during the early days of the war, could hardly be
Ulustrated more effectively than by this story. As
yet the only wonder was why he did not take some
how the directorship of affairs ; the time was to
come when the general voice would insist upon hia
doing so.
One day a startling report ran through aU circles.
It was given out that Palmerston had actuaUy re-

266 A HISTORY OF OUR O'WN TIMES. cn. xxvr.
signed. So far was he from any intention of taking
on himself the direction of affairs — even of war or of
foreign affairs — that he appeared to have gone out of
the Ministry altogether. The report was confirmed :
Palmerston actuaUy had resigned. It was at once
asserted that his resignation was caused by difference
of opinion between him and his coUeagues on the
Eastern poUcy of the Government. But on the other
hand it was as stoutly affirmed that the difference
of opinion had only to do "with the new Reform BiU
which Lord John Russell was preparing to introduce.
Now it is certain that Lord Palmerston did differ in
opinion "with Lord John RusseU on the subject of his
Reform BUl. It is certain that this was the avowed
cause, and the only avowed cause, of Palmerston's
resignation. But it is equally certain that the real
cause of the resignation was the con"vdction in
Palmerston's mind that his coUeagues were not up to
the demands of the crisis in regard to the Eastern
war. Lord Palmerston's letters to his brother on the
subject are amusing. They resemble some of the
epistles which used to pass between suspected lovers
in old days, and in which the words were so arranged
that the sentences conveyed an ob"vious meaning
good enough for -1116 eye of jealous authority, but had
a very different tale to teU to the one being for whom
the truth was intended. Lord Palmerston gives his
brother a long and circumstantial' account of the
differences about the Reform BiU, ' and about the
impossibUity of a Home Secretary either supporting
by speech a Bill he did not like, or sitting sUent

1853. PALMERSTON'S RETURN. 267
dming the whole discussion on it in the House of
Commons. He shows that he could not possibly do
other-wise under such trying circumstances than re
sign. The whole letter, untU we come to the very
last paragraph, is about the Reform BUl and nothing
else. One might suppose that nothing else whatever
was entering into the "writer's thoughts. But at the
end Palmerston just remembers to add that the Times
was teUing ' an untruth ' when it said there had been
no difference in the Cabinet about Eastern affairs, for
in fact there had been some little lack of agreement
on the subject, but it would have looked rather silly,
Palmerston thinks, if he were to have gone out of
office merely because he could not have his o"wn way
about Turkish affairs. Exactly ; and in a few days
after Palmerston was induced to ¦withdraw his resig
nation and to remain in the Government ; and then
he "wrote to his brother again explaining how and aU
about it. He explains that several members of the
Cabinet told him they considered the detaUs of the
Reform BiU quite open to discussion and so forth.
' Their earnest representations, and the knowledge
that the Cabinet had on Thursday taken a decision
on Turkish affairs in entire accordance with opinions
which I had long unsuccessfully pressed upon them,
decided me to "withdraw my resignation, which I did
yesterday.' ' Of course,' Lord Palmerston quietly
adds, ' what I say "to you about the Cabinet decision
on Turkish affairs is entirely for yourself and not to
be mentioned to anybody. But it is very important,
and 'wiU give the aUied squadrons the command of

268 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xxvr,
the Black Sea.' All this was very prudent, of course,
and very prettily arranged. But we doubt whether
a single man in England who cared anything about
the whole question was imposed upon for one moment.
Nobody beUeved that at such a time Lord Palmerston
would have gone out of office because he did not
quite Uke the details of a Reform BUl, or that the
Cabinet would have obstinately clung to such a
scheme just then in spite of his opposition. Indeed
the first impression of everyone was that Palmerston
had gone out only in order to come back again much
stronger than before ; that he resigned when he could
not have his way in Eastern affairs, and that he would
resume office empowered to have his way in every
thing. The explanations about the Reform BiU found
as impatient Usteners among the public at large as
the desperate attempts of the young heroine in ' She
Stoops to Conquer ' to satisfy honest Tony Lumpkin
with her hasty and Ul-concocted de"rices about Shake-
bag and Green and the rest of them, whose story she
pretends to read for him from the letter which is not
intended to reach the suspicious ears of his mother.
When Lord Palmerston resumed his place in the
Ministry, the public at large felt certain that the war
spirit was now at last to have its way, and that the
dallyings of the peace-lovers were over.
Nor was England long left to guess at the reason
why Lord Palmerston had so suddenly resigned his
office, and so suddenly returned to it. A great dis
aster had faUen upon Turkey. Her fleet had been
destroyed by the Russians at Sinope, in the Black

1853. THE MASSACRE OF SINOPE. 269
Sea. Sinope is, or was, a considerable seaporf to'wn
and naval station belonging to Turkey, and standing
on a rocky promontory on the southern shore of
the Black Sea. On November 30, 1853, the Turkish
squadron was lying there at anchor. The squadron
consisted of seven -frigates, a sloop, and a steamer.
It had no ship of the line. The Russian fleet, con
sisting of six ships of the line and some steamers,
had been cruising about the Black Sea for several
days previously, issuing from Sebastopol, and making
an occasional swoop now and then as U to bear do'wn
upon the Turkish squadron. The Turkish com
mander was quite aware of the danger, and pressed
for reinforcements ; but nothing was done, either by
the Turkish Government or by the ambassadors of
the aUies at Constantinople. On November 30, how
ever, the Sebastopol fleet did actuaUy bear down.
upon the Turkish vessels lying at Sinope. The
Turks, seeing that an attack was coming at last, not
only accepted, but even anticipated it ; for they were
the first to fire. The fight was hopeless for them.
They fought with all the desperate energy of fearless
and unconquerable men ; unconquerable, at least, in
the sense that they would not yield. But the odds
were too much against them to give them any chance.
Either they would not haul down their flag, which is
very Ukely ; or if they did strike their colours, the
Russian admiral did not see the signal. The fight
went on untU the whole Turkish squadron, save
for the steamer, was destroyed. It was asserted on
official authority that more than four thousand Turks

270 A HISTORY OF OUR O'WN TIMES. cn. xxvr.
were killed ; that the survivors hardly numbered four
hundred ; and that of these every man was wounded.
Sinope itself was much shattered and battered by the
Russian fleet. The affair was at once the destruction
of the Turkish ships and an attack upon Turkish
territory. This was 'the massacre of Sinope,' When the
news came to England there arose one cry of grief
and anger and shame. It was regarded as a de
Uberate act of treachery, consummated amid condi
tions of the most hideous barbarity. A clamour
arose against the Emperor of Russia as if he were
a monster outside the pale of ci"rilised law, Uke some
of the furious and treacherous despots of mediseval
Asiatic history. Mr. Kinglake has sho"wn — and
indeed the sequence of events must in time have
sho"wn everyone — that there was no foundation for
these accusations. The attack was not treacherous,
but openly made ; not sudden, but clearly announced
by pre"vious acts, and long expected, as we have seen,
by the Turkish commander himself; and it was not
in breach even of the courtesies of war. Russia
and Turkey were not only formaUy but actuaUy
at war. The Turks were the first to begin the
actual mUitary operations. More than five weeks
before the affair at Sinope they had opened the busi- ,
ness by firing from a fortress on a Russian flotiUa.
A few days after this act they crossed the Danube
at Widdin and occupied Kalafat ; and for several
days they had fought under Omar Pasha "with
brUliant success against the Russians at Oltenitza.

1853. PUBLIC FEELING IN ENGLAND. 271
AU England had been enthusiastic about the bravery
which the Turks had sho"wn at Oltenitza and the
success which had attended their first encounter with
the enemy. It was hardly to be expected that the
Emperor of Russia would only fight where he was
at a disadvantage, and refrain from attack where
his power was overwhelming. StUl there was an
impression among EngUsh and French statesmen that
whUe negotiations for peace were actually going on
between the Western Powers and Russia, and while
the fleets of England and France were remain
ing peacefuUy at anchor in the Bosphorus, whither
they had been summoned by this time, the Russian
Emperor would abstain from complicating matters
by making use of his Sebastopol fleet. Nothing
could have been more un"wise than to act upon an
impression of this kind as if it were a regular agrecr
ment. But the EngUsh pubUc did not understand
at that moment the actual condition of things, and
may well have supposed that if our Government
seemed secure and content, there must have been
some definite arrangement to create so happy a con
dition of mind. It may look strange to readers now,
surveying this chapter of past history "with cool, un-
impassioned mind, that anybody could have beUeved
in the existence of any arrangement by virtue of
which Turkey could be at war "with Russia and not
at war "with her at the same time ; which would have
aUowed Turkey to strike her enemy when and how
she pleased, and would have restricted the enemy to
such time, place and method of retort as might suit

272 A IHSTORY OF OUR O'WN TIMES. cn. xxvr.
the convenience of the neutral powers. But at the
time, when the true state of affairs was little kno-wn
in England, the account of the ' massacre of Sinope '
was received as if it had been the tale of some un
paralleled act of treachery and savagery ; and the
eagerness of the country for war against Russia
became inflamed to actual passion.
It was at that moment that Palmerston resigned
his office. The Cabinet were stUl not prepared to
go as far as he would have gone. They had beUeved
that the Sebastopol fleet would do nothing as long
as the Western Powers kept talking about peace ;
they now believed perhaps that the Emperor of
Russia would say he was very sorry for what had
been done, and promise not to do so any more. Lord
Palmerston, supported by the urgent pressure of the
Emperor of the French, succeeded, however, in at last
overcoming their determination. It was agreed that
some decisive announcement should be. made to the
Emperor of Russia on the part of England and
France ; and Lord Palmerston resumed his place,
master of the situation. This was the decision of
which he had spoken in his letter to his brother;
the decision which he said he had long unsuccessfiiUy
pressed upon his coUeagues, and which would give the
aUied squadrons the command of the Black Sea. It
was, in fact, an intimation to Russia that France and
England were resolved to prevent any repetition of
the Sinope affair ; that their squadrons would enter
the Black Sea with orders to request, and if necessary
to constrain, every Russian ship met in the Euxine

1853-64. PALMERSTON RESOLVED ON WAR. 273
to return to Sebastopol ; and to repel by force any
act of aggression afterwards attempted against the
Ottoman territory or flag. This was not, it should
be observed, simply an intimation to the Emperor of
Russia that the great Powers would impose and
enforce the neutrality of the Black Sea. It was an
announcement that if the flag of Russia dared to
show itself on that sea, which washed Russia's
southern shores, the war-ships of two far foreign
states, taking possession of those waters, would pull
it down, or compel those who bore it to fly ignomini-
ously into port. This was, in fact, war.
Of course Lord Palmerston knew this. Because
it meant war he accepted it and returned to his place,.
weU pleased "with the way in which things were going.
From his point of "view he was perfectly right. He
had been consistent aU through. He believed from
the first that the pretensions of Russia would have to
be put down by force of arms, and could not be put
do"wn in any other way; he beUeved that the danger
to England from the aggrandisement of Russia was a
capital danger calling for any extent of national sacri
fice to avert it. He beUeved that a war "with Russia
was inevitable, and he preferred taking it sooner to
taking it later. He beUeved that an alUance with the
Emperor of the French was desirable, and a war "with
Russia would be the best means of making this,
effective. Lord Palmerston, therefore, was determined
not to remain in the Cabinet unless some strenuous
measures were taken, and now, as on a memorable
VOL, II. T

274 A HISTORY OF OUR O'WN TIMES, ch. xxvr.
former occasion, he understood better than anyone else
the prevaUing temper of the English people.
When the resolution of the Western Cabinets was
communicated to the Emperor of Russia he withdrew
his representatives from London and Paris. On
February 21, 1854, the diplomatic relations between '
Russia and the two aUied powers were brought to a stop.
Six weeks before this the English and French fleets
had entered the Black Sea. The interval was fiUed up
"with renewed efforts to bring about a peaceful arrange
ment, which were conducted with as much gra"vity as
if anyone believed in the possibUity of their success.
The Emperor of the French, who always loved letter-
¦writing, and deUghted in what Cobden once happUy
caUed the ' monumental style,' "wrrote to the Russian
Emperor appealing to him, professedly in the interests
of peace, to aUow an armistice to be signed, to let the
belUgerent forces on both sides retire from the places
to which motives of war had led them, and then to
negotiate a convention "with the Sultan which might
be submitted to a conference of the four Powers. If
Russia would not do this, then Lotus Napoleon, un
dertaking to speak in the name of the Queen of Great
Britain as weU as of himself, intimated that France
and England would be compeUed to leave to the
chances of war what might now be decided by reason
and justice. The Emperor Nicholas repUed that he
had claimed nothing but what was confirmed by
treaties ; that his conditions were perfectly weU-
known; that he was stUl "wiUing to treat on these
conditions ; but if Russia were driven to arms, then

1854. ENGLAND'S ULTIMATTOL 275
he quietly observed that he had no doubt she could
hold her o"wn as weU in 1854 as she had done in
1812. That year, 1812, it is hardly necessary to say,
was the year of the burning of Moscow and the
disastrous retreat of the French. We can easUy
understand what faith in the possibility of a peaceful
arrangement the Russian Emperor must have had
when he made the allusion and the French Emperor
must have had when it met his eye. Of course if
Louis Napoleon had had the faintest belief in any
good result to come of his letter he would never have
closed it with the threat which provoked the Russian
sovereign into his insufferable rejoinder. The corre
spondence might remind one of that which is said to
have passed between two Irish chieftains. ' Pay me
my tribute,' wrote the one, ' or else ! ' 'I owe you no
tribute,' repUed the other, ' and if . . .'
England's ultimatum to Russia was despatched on
February 27, 1854. It was conveyed in a letter from
Lord Clarendon to Count Nesselrode. It declared
that the British Government had exhausted all the
efforts of negotiation, and was compelled to announce
that ' if Russia should decUne to restrict "within purely
diplomatic limits the discussion in which she has for
some time past been engaged "with the SubUme Porte,
and does not, by return of the messenger who is the
bearer of my present letter, announce her intention of
causing the Russian troops under Prince Gortschakoff
to commence their march with a view to recross the
Pruth, so that the provinces of Moldavia and Walla-
chia shaU be completely evacuated on AprU 30 next,
t2

276 A HISTORY OF OUR 0"WN TIMES. cn. xxvr,
the British Government must consider the refusal or
the sUence of the Cabinet of St. Petersburg as equiva
lent to a declaration of war, and "wUl take its measure?
accordingly.' It is not perhaps very profitable "work for
the historian to criticise the mere terms of a document
announcing a course of action which long before its
issue had become inevitable. But it is worth ¦wh.He
remarking perhaps that it would have been better and
more dignified to confine the letter to the simple de
mand for the evacuation of the Danubian provinces.
To ask Russia to promise that her controversy
with the Porte should be thenceforward restricted
"within purely diplomatic limits was to make a demand
with which no great power would, or indeed could,
undertake to comply. A member of the Peace Society
itself might weU hesitate to give a promise that ii
dispute in which he was engaged should be for ever
confined within purely diplomatic limits. In any caso
it was certain that Russia would not now make any
concessions tending towards peace. The messenger
who was the bearer of the letter was ordered not to
wait more than sis days for an answer. On the fifth
day the messenger was informed by wprd of mouth
from Count Nesselrode that the Emperor did not
think it becoming in him to give any reply to the
letter. The die was cast. Rather, truly, the fact was
recorded that the die had been cast. A few days after
a crowd assembled in front of the Royal Exchange to
watch the performance of a ceremonial that had been
Uttle known to the Uving generation. The Sergeant-
at-Arms, accompanied by some of the officials of the

2854. TIIE DECLARATION OF WAR. 277
City, read from the steps of the Royal Exchange her
Majesty's declaration of war against Russia.
The causes of the declaration of war were set
forth in an official statement pubUshed in the Lon
don Gazette. This document is an interesting and
a valuable State paper. It recites with clearness and
deliberation the successive steps by which the aUied
Powers had been led to the necessity of an armed
intervention in the controversy between Turkey and
Russia. It described, in the first place, the com
plaint of the Emperor of Russia against the Sultan
with reference to the claims of the Greek and Latin
¦ Churches, and the arrangement promoted satisfac
torily by her Majesty's ambassador at Constantinople
for rendering justice tO the claim, 'an arrangement
to which no exception was taken by the Russian
Government.' Then came the sudden unmasking of
the other and quite different claims of Prince Ment
schikoff, 'the nature of which in the first instance
he endeavoured, as far as possible, to conceal from
her Majesty's ambassador.' These claims, ' thus stu
diously concealed,' affected not merely, or at aU, the
pri"vUeges of the Greek Church at Jerusalem, 'but
the position of many mUlions of Turkish subjects in
their relations to their sovereign the Sultan.' The
declaration recaUed the various attempts that were
made by the Queen's Government in conjunction with
the Governments of France, Austria, and Prussia, to
meet any just demands of the Russian' Emperor 'with
out affecting the dignity and independence of the
Sultan, and showed that if the object of Russia had

278 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xxvr.
been solely to secure their proper pri-vUeges and im
munities for the Christian populations of the Ottoman
Empire, the offers that were made could not have
faUed to meet that object. Her Majesty's Govern
ment, therefore, held it as mamfest that what Russia
was reaUy seeking was not the happiness of the
Christian communities of Turkey, but the right to
interfere in the ordinairy relations between Turkish
subjects and their sovereign. The Sultan refused to
consent to this, and declared war in self-defence. Yet
the Government of her Majesty did not renounce all
hope of restoring peace between the contending parties
untU ad-vice and remonstrance pro-ving whoUy in vain,
and Russia continuing to extend her military prepa
rations, her Majesty felt called upon, ' by regard for
an ally, the integrity and independence of whose
Empire have been recognised as essential to the
peace of Europe ; by the sympathies of her people
with right against wrong ; by a desire to avert from
her dominions most injurious consequences, and to
save Europe from the preponderance of a Power
which has violated the faith of treaties and defies
the opimon of the ci"vUised world, to take up arms in
conjunction "with the Emperor of the French for the
defence of the Sultan.'
Some passages of this declaration have in"vited
criticism from EngUsh historians. It opens, for
example, "with a statement of the fact that the ef
forts for an arrangement were made by her Majesty
in conjunction with France, Austria' and Prussia.
It speaks of this concert of the four Powers, down

1854. ENGLAND'S ALLY. 279
almost to the very close ; and then, it suddenly
breaks off and announces, that in consequence of
all that has happened her Majesty has felt compelled
to take up arms ' in conjunction with the Emperor of
the French.' What strange diplomatic mismanage
ment, it was asked, has led to this singular non
sequitur ? Why, after ha"ving carried on the negotia
tions through aU their various stages with three other
great Powers, aU of them supposed to be equaUy
interested in a settlement of the question, is England
at the last moment compeUed to take up arms "with
only one of those Powers as an aUy?
The principal reason for the separation of the two
Western Powers of Europe from the other great States
was found in the condition of Prussia. Prussia was
then greatly under the influence of the Russian court.
The Prussian sovereign was related to the Emperor
of Russia ; and his kingdom was almost overshadowed
by Russian influence. Prussia had come to occupy a
lower position in Europe than she had ever before
held during her existence as a kingdom. It seemed
almost marveUous how by any process the country of
the Great Frederick could have sunk to such a con
dition of insignificance. She had been compeUed to
stoop to Austria after the events of 1848. The King
of Prussia, tampering with the offers of the strong
national party who desired to make him Emperor of
Germany, now moving forward and now dra'wing
back, 'letting I dare not wait upon I would,' was
suddenly puUed up by Austria. The famous arrange
ment, caUed afterwards ' the humiliation of Olmiitz,'

280 A HISTORY OF OUR O'WN TIMES. ch. xxvr.
and so completely revenged at Sadowa, compeUed
him to drop aU his triflings "with nationalism and
repudiate his former instigators. The King of Prussia
was a highly-cultured amiable Uterary man. He loved
letters and art in a sort of dilettante way; he had
good impulses and a weak nature ; he was a dreamer ;
a sort of phUosopher manque. He was unable to
make up his mind to any momentous decision untU
the time for rendering it effective had gone by. A
man naturally truthful, he was often led by very
weakness into acts that seemed irreconcUable "with his
previous promises and engagements. He could say
witty and sarcastic things, and when poUtical affairs
went 'wrong "with him, he could console himself "with
one or two sharp sayings only heard of by those im
mediately around him ; and then the world might go
its way for him. He was, like Rob Roy, ' ower good
for banning and ower bad for blessing.' Like our
own Charles IL, he never said a fooUsh thing and
never did a 'wise one. He ought to have been an
sesthetic essayist, or a lecturer on art and moral phi
losophy to young ladies ; and an unkind destiny had
made him the king of a state speciaUy embarrassed
in a most troublous time. So unkindly was popular
rumour as weU as fate to him, that he got the credit
in foreign countries of being a stupid sensuaUst when
he was reaUy a man of respectable habits and refined
nature ; and in England at least the nickname ' King
CUcquot ' was long the brand by which the popular and
most mistaken impression of his character was signified.
The King of Prussia was the elder brother of the

1854. AUSTIilA AND PRUSSIA. 281
present German Emperor, Had the latter been then
on the throne he would probably have taken some
timely and energetic decision 'with regard to the na
tional duty of Prussia during the impending crisis.
Right or 'wrong, he would doubtless have contrived to
see his way and make up his mind at an early stage
of the European movement. It is by no means to be
assumed that he would have taken the course most
satisfactory to England and France ; but it is likely
that his action might have prevented the war, either
by rendering the aUied Powers far too strong to be
resisted by Russia, or by adding to Russia an influence
which would have rendered the game of war too for
midable to suit the calculations of the Emperor of the
French, The actual King of Prussia, however, went
60 far with the aUies as to lead them for a whUe to
believe that he was going all the way; but at the last
moment he broke off^ declared that the interests of
Prussia did not require or allow him to engage in
a war, and left France and England to walk their own
road, Austria could not venture upon such a war
without the co-operation of Prussia; and indeed the
course which the campaign took seemed likely to give
both Austria and Prussia a good excuse for assuming
that their interests were not closely engaged in the
etruggle, Austria would most certainly have gone to
war if the Emperor of Russia had kept up the occu
pation of the Danubian PrincipaUties ; and for that
purpose her territorial situation made her irresistible.
But when the seat of war was transferred to the Black
Sea, and when after a whUe the Czar "withdrew his

282 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xxvr.
troops from the Principalities, and Austria occupied
them by virtue of a convention "with the Sultan,pher
direct interest in the struggle was reduced almost to
nothing. Austria and Prussia were in fact solicited
by both sides of the dispute, and at one time it was
even thought possible that Prussia might give her aid
to Russia. This, however, she refrained from doing;
Austria and Prussia made an arrangement between
themselves for mutual defence in case the progress of
the war should directly imperU the interests of either;
and England and France undertook in aUiance the
task of chastising the presumption and restraining
the ambitious designs of Russia. Mr. Kinglake finds
much fault "with the policy of the EngUsh Govern
ment, on which he lays all the blame of the severance
of interests between the two Western States and the
other two great Powers. But we confess that we do
not see how any course within the reach of England
could have secured just then the thorough alUance of
Prussia ; and without such an aUiance it would have
been vain to expect that Austria would throw herself
unreservedly into the poUcy of the Western Powers.
It must be remembered that the controversy between
Russia and the West reaUy. involved several distinct
questions, in some of which Prussia had absolutely
no direct interest and Austria very Uttle. Let us set
out some of these questions separately. There was
the Russian occupation of the Principalities. In this
Austria frankly acknowledged her capital interest.
Its direct bearing was on her more than any other
power. It concerned Prussia as it did England and

1654. THE QUESTION OF TIIE STRAITS. 283
France, inasmuch as it was an evidence of an aggres
sive purpose which might very seriously threaten the
general stabUity of the institutions of Europe ; but
Prussia had no closer interest in it. Austria was the
State most affected by it, and Austria was the State
which could with most effect operate against it, and
was always "willing and resolute if needs were to do so.
Then there was the question of Russia's claim to exer
cise a protectorate over the Christian populations of
Turkey. This concerned England and France in one
sense as part of the general pretensions of Russia, and
concerned each of them separately in another sense.
To France it told of a rivalry "with the right she
claimed to look after the interests of the Latin Church;
to England it spoke of a purpose to obtain a hold over
populations nominaUy subject to the Sultan which
might in time make Russia virtual master of the ap
proaches to our Eastern possessions. Austria too had
a direct interest in repeUing these pretensions of Russia,
for some of the populations they referred to were on her
very frontier. But Prussia can hardly be said to have
had any direct national interest in that question at all.
Then there came, distinct from aU these, the question
of the Straits of the DardaneUes and the Bosphorus.
This question of the Straits, which has so much to
do with the whole European aspect of the war, is
not to be understood except by those who bear the
conformation of the map of Europe constantly in their
minds. The only outlet of Russia on the southern
side is the Black Sea. The Black Sea is, save for one
Uttle outlet at its south-western extremity, a huge

284 A HISTORY OF OUR O'WN TIMES. ch. xxvIi
land-locked lake. That Uttle outlet is the narrow
channel caUed the Bosphorus. Russia and Turkey
between them surround the whole of the Black Sea
"with their territory. Russia has the north and some
of the eastern shore ; Turkey has aU the southern, the
Asia Minor shore, and nearly all the western shore.
Close the Straits of the Bosphorus and Russia would
be literally locked into the Black Sea. The Bos
phorus is a narrow channel, as has been said ; it is
some seventeen mUes in length, and in some places it
is hardly more than half a mUe in breadth. But it is
very deep aU through, so that ships of war can float
close up to its very shores on either side. This
channel in its course passes between the city of Con
stantinople and its Asiatic suburb of Scutari. The
Bosphorus then opens into the little Sea of Marmora ;
and out of the Sea of Marmora the way westward is
through the channel of the Dardanelles. The Dar
danelles form the only passage into the Archipelago,
and thence into the Mediterranean. The channel of
the Dardanelles is, Uke the Bosphorus, very narrow
and very deep, but it pursues, its course for some
forty mUes. . Any one who holds a map in his hand
"will see at once how Turkey and Russia aUke are
affected by the existence of the Straits on either
extremity of the Sea of Marmora. Close up these
Straits against vessels of war, and the capital of the
Sultan is absolutely unassaUable from the sea. Close
them, on the other hand, and the Russian fleet in the
Black Sea is absolutely cut off from the Mediter
ranean and the Western world. But then it has to be

1854. TIIE DARDANELLES AND THE BOSPHORUS. 285
remembered that the same act of closing would secure
the Russian ports and shores on the Black Sea from.
the approach of any of the great navies of the West.
The Dardanelles and the Bosphorus being alike such
narrow channels, and being edged alike by Turkish
territory, were not regarded as high seas. The Sultans
always claimed the right to exclude foreign ships of
war from both the Straits. The Treaty of 1841
secured this right to Turkey by the agreement of the
five great Powers of Europe. The treaty acknow
ledged that the Porte had the right to shut the Straits
against the armed na-vies of any foreign power ; and
the Sultan for his part engaged not to aUow any such
na-vy to enter either of the Straits in time of peace.
The closing of the Straits had been the subject of a
perfect succession of treaties. The Treaty of 1809
between Great Britain and Turkey confirmed by en
gagement ' the ancient rule of the Ottoman empire '
forbidding vessels of war at all times to enter the
' Canal of Constantinople.' The Treaty of Unkiar-
Skelessi between Russia and Turkey, arising out of
Russia's co-operation "with the Porte to put do"wn the
rebelUous movement of Mohammed AU, the Egyptian
vassal of the latter, contained a secret clause bindina:
the Porte to close ' the DardaneUes ' against aU war
vessels whatever, thus shutting Russia's enemies out
of the Black Sea, but lea-ving Russia free to pass the
Bosphorus, so far at least as that treaty engagement
was concerned.- Later, when the great Powers of
Europe combined to put do"wn the attempts of Egypt,
the Treaty of July 13, 1841, made in London, engaged

286 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TBIES. ch. xxvr.
that in time of peace no foreign ships of war should
be admitted into the Straits of the Bosphorus and the
DardaneUes. This treaty was but a renewal of a con
vention made the year before, whUe France was stUl
sulking away from the European concert, and did
nothing more than record her return to it.
As matters stood then, the Sultan was not only
permitted but was bound to close the Straits in times
of peace, and no navy might enter them "without his
consent even in times of war. But in times of war
he might of course give the permission and invite the
presence and co-operation of the armed vessels of a
foreign power in the Sea of Marmora. By this treaty
the Black Sea fleet of Russia became literaUy a Black
Sea fleet, and could no more reach the Mediterranean
and Westem Europe than a boat on the Lake of
Lucerne could do. Naturally Russia chafed at this ;
but at the same time she was not "willing to see the
restriction withdra"wn in favour of an arrangement
that would leave the Straits, and consequently the
Black Sea, open to the na"vies of France and England.
Her supremacy in Eastern Europe would count for
Uttle, her power of coercing Turkey would be sadly
diminished, if the war-flag of England, for example,
were to float side by side with her own in front of
Constantinople or in the Euxine. Therefore it was
natural that the ambition of Russia should tend
towards the ultimate possession of Constantinople
and the Straits for herself ; but as this was an am
bition the fulfilment of which seemed far off and
beset "with vast dangers, her object, meanwhUe, was

1854. TIIE ABIS OF RUSSIA. 287
to gain as much influence and ascendency as possible
over the Ottoman Govemment ; to make it practically
the vassal of Russia, and in any case to prevent any
other great Power from obtaining the influence and
ascendency which she coveted for herself. Now the
tendency of this ambition and of all the intermediate
claims and disputes with regard to the opening or
closing of the Straits was of importance to Europe
generaUy as a part of Russian aggrandisement ; but of
the great Powers they concerned England most ;
France as a Mediterranean and a naval power ; Aus
tria only in a third and remoter degree ; and Prussia
at the time of King Frederick WilUam least of
aU. It is not surprising therefore that the two
Western Powers were not able to carry their accord
with Prussia to the extent of an alUance in war
against Russia ; and it was hardly possible then for
Austria to go on if Prussia insisted on drawing back.
Thus it came that at a certain point of the negotia
tions Prussia feU off absolutely, or nearly so ; Austria
undertook but a conditional co-operation, of which,
as it happened, the conditions did not arise ; and the
Queen of England announced that she had taken up
arms against Russia ' in conjunction with the Em
peror of the French.'
To the great majority of the English people
this war was popular. It was popular, partly be
cause of the natural and ine"vitable reaction against
the doctrines of peace and mere trading prosperity
which had been preached somewhat too pertinaci
ously for some time before. But it was popular too

288 A HISTORY OF OUR O'WN TIMES. en. xxvr.
because of its novelty. It was like a return to the
youth of the world when England found herself once
more preparing for the field. It was like the pouring
of new blood into old veins. The pubUc had grown
impatient of the common saying of foreign capitals,
that England had joined the Peace Society and would
never be seen in battle any more. Mr. Kinglake is
right when he says that the doctrines of the Peace
Society had never taken any hold of the higher classes
in this country at aU. They had never, we may venture
to add, taken any real hold of the humbler classes ;
of the working men, for example. The weU-educated
thoughtful middle class, who knew how much of
worldly happiness depends on a regular income,
moderate taxation, and a comfortable home, suppUed
most of the advocates of 'peace,' as it was scorn-
fuUy said, ' at any price.' Let us say, in justice to a
very noble and very futUe doctrine, that there were
no persons in England who advocated peace ' at any
price,' in the ignominious sense which hostUe critics
pressed upon the words. There was a smaU, a serious
and a very respectable body of persons who, out of
the purest motives of conscience, held that aU war
was criminal and offensive to the Deity. They were
for peace at any price, exactly as they were for truth
at any price, or conscience at any price. They were
opposed to war as they were to falsehood or to im
piety. It seemed as natural to them that a man
should die unresisting rather than resist and kfll, as
it does to most persons who profess any sentiment
of reUgion, or even of honour, that a man should die

1854. TIIE PEACE PARTY. 289
rather than abjure the faith he believes in, or tell a Ue.
It is assumed as a matter of course that any English
man worthy of the name would have died by any
torture tyranny could put on bim rather than perform
the old ceremony of trampling on the crucifix which
certain heathen states were said to have sometimes
insisted on as the price of a captive's freedom. To
the beUevers in the peace doctrine the act of war was
a trampling on the crucifix, which brought -with it
evU consequences unspeakably worse than the mere
performance of a profane ceremonial. To declare that
they would rather suffer any earthly penalty of defeat
or national servitude than take part in a war, was
only consistent -with the great creed of their Uves, It
ought not to have been held as any reproach to them.
Even those who, like this writer, have no personal
sympathy with such a beUef, and who hold that a war
in a just cause is an honour to a nation, may stUl
recognise the purity and nobleness of the principle
which inspired the votaries of peace and do honour
to it. But these men were in any case not many at
the time when the Crimean War broke out. They
had very Uttle influence on the course of the national
poUcy. They were assaUed -with a flippant and a
somewhat ignoble ridicule. The worst reproach that
could be given to men Ulce Mr. Cobden and Mr.
Bright was to accuse them of being members of the
Peace Society. It does not appear that either man
was a member of the actual organisation. Mr. Bright' s
religious creed made him necessarily a votary of
peace ; Mr. Cobden had attended meetings called with
VOL. II. u

290 A mSTORY OF OUR 0"WN TBIES. cn. xxvr.
the futUe purpose of estabUshing peace among na
tions by the operation of good feeling and of common
sense. But for a considerable time the temper of
the English people was such as to render any talk
about peace not only unprofitable but perUous to the
very cause of peace itself. Some of the leading mem
bers of the Peace Society did actually get up a depu
tation to the Emperor Nicholas to appeal to his better
feelings ; and of course they were charmed by the man
ners of the Emperor, who made it his business to be
in a very gracious humour, and spoke them fair, and
introduced them in the most unceremonious way to
his "wife. Such a visit counted for nothing in Russia,
and at home it only tended to make people angry and
impatient, and to put the cause of peace in greater
jeopardy than ever. Viewed as a practical influence
the peace doctrine as completely broke down as a
general resolution against the making of money might
have done during the time of the mania for specula
tion in raUway shares. But it did not merely break
do"wn of itself. It carried some great influences down
with it for the time — influences that were not a part of
itself. The eloquence that had coerced the inteUect
and reasoning power of Peel into a complete surrender
to the doctrines of Free Trade, the eloquence that had
aroused the populations of all the cities of England
and had conquered the liouse of Commons, was
destined now to call aloud to solitude. Mr. Cobden
and Mr. Bright addressed their constituents and their
countrymen in vain. The fact that they were be
lieved to be opposed on principle to aU wars put them

1854, DIFFERING VIEWS IN THE CABINET, 291
out of court in public estimation, as Mr. Kinglake
justly observes, when they went about to argue against
this particular war.
In the Cabinet itself there were men who disliked
the idea of a war quite as much as they did. Lord
Aberdeen detested war, and thought it so absurd a way
of settUng national disputes, that almost untU the first
cannon-shot had been fired he could not bring himseK
to beUeve in the possibiUty of the intelUgent EngUsh
people being dra-wn into it. Mr. Gladstone had a
conscientious and a sensitive objection to war in
general as a brutal and an unchristian occupation,
although his feelings would not have carried him so
far away as to prevent his recognition of the fact that
war might often be a just, a necessary and a glorious
undertaking on the part of a civilised nation. The
difficulties of the hour were considerably enhanced
by the differences of opinion that prevaUed in the
Cabinet. There were other differences there as weU as those
that belonged to the mere abstract question of the
glory or the guUt of war. It soon became clear that
two parties of the Cabinet looked on the war and its
objects with different eyes and interests. Lord Pal
merston wanted simply to put down Russia and up
hold Turkey. Others were specially concerned for
the Christian populations of Turkey and their better
government. Lord Palmerston not merely thought
that the interests of England called for some check to
the aggressiveness of Russia ; he liked the Turk for
himseK; he had faith in the future of Turkey: he
v2

292 A IHSTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. ch. xxvr.
went so far even as to proclaim his belief in the
endurance of her mUitary power. Give Turkey single-
handed a fair chance, he argued, and she would beat
Russia. He did not beUeve either in the disaffection
of the Christian. populations or in the stories of their
oppression. He regarded aU these stories as part of
the plans and inventions of Russia. He had no haK-
beUefs in the matter at aU. The Christian populations
and their grievances he regarded in plain language as
mere humbugs ; he looked upon the Turk as a very
fine fellow whom aU chivafric minds ought to respect.
He beUeved all that was said upon the one side, and
nothing upon the other ; he had made up his mind to
this long ago, and no arguments or facts could now
shake his con"victions. A belief of this kind may
have been very unphUosophic. It was undoubtedly in
many respects the birth of mere prejudice independent
of fact or reasoning. But the temper born of such a
beUef is exactly that which should have the making
of a war entrusted to it. Lord Palmerston saw his
way straight before him. The brave Turk had to be
supported ; the wicked Russian had to be put down.
On one side there were Lord Aberdeen, who did not
beUeve anyone seriously meant to be so barbarous as
to go to war, and Mr. Gladstone, who shrank from
war in general and was not yet quite certain whether
England had any right to undertake this war; the
two being furthermore concerned far more for the
welfare of Turkey's Christian subjects than for the
stability of Turkey or the humUiation of Russia. Ou
tlie other side wr-.s Lord Palmerston, gay, resolute,

1854. PALMERSTON'S RIGHT PLACE. 293
clear as to his o"wn purpose, convinced to the heart's
core of everything whicli just then it was for the advan
tage of his cause to believe. It was impossible to doubt
on which side were to be found the materials for the
successful conduct of the enterprise which was now so
popular "with the country. The most conscientious
men might differ about the prudence or the moral
propriety of the war ; but to those who once accepted
its necessity and wished our side to win, there could
be no possible doubt, even for members of the Peace
Society, as to the importance of having Lord Palmer
ston either at the head of affairs or in charge of the
war itseK. The moment the war actually broke out
it became e"vident to everyone that Palmerston's
interval of comparative inaction and obscurity was
well nigh over.

294 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES, en. xxvn.

CHAPTER XXVIL
THE INVASION OF THE CEIMEA.
England then and France entered the war as aUies.
Lord Raglan, formerly Lord Fitzroy Somerset, an old
pupU of the Great Duke in the Peninsular War, and
who had lost his right arm serving under Wellington
at Waterloo, was appointed to command the English
forces. Marshal St. Arnaud, a bold, brUliant soldier
of fortune, was entrusted by the Emperor of the
French with the leadership of the soldiers of France.
The allied forces went out to the East and assembled
at Varna, on the Black Sea shore, from which they
were to make their descent on the Crimea. The war,
meantime, had gone badly for the Emperor of Russia
in his attempt to crush the Turks. The Turks had
found in Omar Pasha a commander of remarkable
ability and energy ; and they had in one or two in
stances received the unexpected aid and counsel of
clever and successful Englishmen. A singularly
briUiant episode in the opening part of the war was
the defence of the earthworks of SUistria, on the
Bulgarian bank of the Danube, by a body of Turkish
troops under the directions of two young Englishmen,
Captain Butler, of the Ceylon Rifles, and Lieutenant
Nasmyth, of the East India Company's Service.

1854. RUSSL^N REPULSES. 295
These young soldiers had voluntarUy undertaken the
danger and responsibUity of the defence. Butler was
kUled, but the Russians were completely foUed and
had to raise the siege. At Giurgevo and other places
the Russians were Ukewise repulsed ; and the invasion
of the Danubian provinces was ijlready, to aU intents,
a faUure. Mr. Kinglake and other "writers have argued that
but for the ambition of the Emperor of the French
and the excited temper of the EngUsh people the war
might weU have ended then and there. The Emperor
of Russia had found, it is contended, that he could
not maintain an invasion of European Turkey ; his
fleet was confined to its ports in the Black Sea, and
there was nothing for him but to make peace. But
we confess we do not see with what propriety or
"wisdom the alUes having entered on the enterprise at
aU could have abandoned it at such a moment and
aUowed the Czar to escape thus merely scotched.
However briUiant and gratifying the successes ob
tained against the Russians, they were but a series of
what might be caUed outpost actions. They could
not be supposed to have tested the resources of Russia
or weakened her strength. They had humbled and
vexed her just enough to make her doubly resentful
and no more. It seems impossible to suppose that
such trivial disasters could have affected in the
sUghtest degree the historic march of Russian ambi
tion, supposing such a movement to exist. If we
aUow the purpose "with which England entered the
war to be just and reasonable, then we think the

296 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TBIES. cn. xxvir.
instinct of the EngUsh people was sound and tme
which would have refused to aUow Russia to get off
with one or two trifling checks and to nurse her wrath
and keep her vengeance waiting for a better chance
some other time. The alUes went on. They saUed
from Varna for the Crimea nearly three months after
the raising of the siege of SiUstria.
There is much discussion as to the original author
of the project for the invasion of the Crimea. The
Emperor Napoleon has had it ascribed to him ; so
has Lord Palmerston ; so has the Duke of Newcastle ;
so, according to Mr. Kinglake, has the Times news
paper. It does not much concern us to know in
whom the idea originated, but it is of some importance
to know that it was essentially a civUian's and not a
soldier's idea. It took possession almost simultane
ously, so far as we can observe, of the minds of several
statesmen, and it had a sudden fascination for the
pubUc. The Emperor Nicholas had raised and shel
tered his Black Sea fleet at Sebastopol. That fleet had
salUed forth from Sebastopol to commit what was
caUed the massacre of Sinope. Sebastopol was the
great arsenal of Russia. It was the point from which
Turkey was threatened ; from which, it was uni-
versaUy beUeved, the embodied ambition of Russia
was one day to make its most formidable effort of
aggression. Within the fence of its vast sea-forts
the fleet of the Black Sea lay screened. From the
moment when the vessels of England and France
entered the Euxine the Russian fleet had withdrawn
behind the curtain of these defences, and was seen

1854. TIIE SLEEPING CABINET. 297
upon the open waves no more. If, therefore, Sebas
topol could be taken or destroyed it would seem as
if the whole material fabric, put together at such
cost and labour for the execution of the schemes of
Russia, would be shattered at a blow. There seemed
a dramatic justice in the idea. It could not faU to
commend itself to the popular mind.
Mr. Kinglake has given the world an amusing
picture of the manner in which the despatch of the
Duke of Newcastle, ordering the invasion of the
Crimea — for it reaUy amounted to an order — was
read to his colleagues in the Cabmet. It was a
despatch of the utmost importance, for the terms in
which it pressed the project on Lord Raglan really
rendered it almost impossible for the Commander-in-
Chief to use his o"wn discretion. It ought to have
been considered sentence by sentence, word by word.
It was read, Mr. Kinglake affirms, to a number of
Cabinet Ministers most of whom had fallen fast
asleep. The day was warm, he says ; the despatch
was long ; the reading was somewhat monotonous.
Most of those who tried to Usten found the soporific
influence irresistible. As Sam WeUer would have
said, poppies were nothing to it. The statesmen fell
asleep ; and there was no alteration made in the
despatch, AU this is very amusing ; and it is, we
beUeve, true enough that at the particular meeting
to which Mr, Kinglake refers there was a good deal
of nodding of sleepy heads and closing of tired eye
lids. But it is not fair to say that these slumbers
had anything to do with the subsequent events of the

298 A HISTORY OF OUR O'WN TIMES, cn. xxTir.
war. The reading of the despatch was purely a piece
of formality ; for the project it was to recommend
had been discussed very fuUy before, and the minds
of most members of the Cabinet were finaUy made up.
The 28th of June, 1854, was the day of the slumber
ing Cabinet. But Lord Palmerston had during the
whole of the pre"vious fortnight at least been urging
on the Cabinet, and on indi"vidual members of it
separately, the Duke of Newcastle in especial, the
project of an invasion of the Crimea and an attempt
on Sebastopol. With aU the energy and strenuous
ness of his nature he had been urging this, by argu
ments in the Cabinet, by "written memoranda for the
consideration of each member of the Cabinet sepa
rately, and by long earnest letters addressed to
particular members of the Cabinet. Many of these
documents, of the existence of which Mr. Kinglake
was doubtless not aware when he set do'wn his -vi
vacious and satirical account of the sleeping Cabinet,
have since been published. The plan had also been
greatly favoured and much urged by the Emperor of
the French before the day of the sleep of the states
men ; indeed, as has been said already, he receives
from many persons the credit of having originated
it. The plan, therefore, good or bad, was thoroughly
known to the Cabinet, and had been argued for and
against over and over again before the Duke of New
castle read aloud to drowsy ears the despatch recom
mending it to the Commander-in-Chief of the British
forces in the field. The perusal of the despatch was
a mere form. It would indeed have been better if the

1854. TIIE INVASION OF THE CRBIEA. 299
most wearied statesman had contrived to pay a fuU
attention to it, but the want of such respect in no
"wise affected the poUcy of the country. It is a pity
to have to spoU so amusing a story as Mr. King-
lake's ; but the commonplace truth has to be told that
the invasion of the Crimea was not due to the crotchet
of one minister and the drowsiness of all the rest.
The invasion of the Crimea, however, was not a
soldier's project. It was not welcomed by the Eng
lish or the French commander. It was undertaken by
Lord Raglan out of deference to the recommendations
of the Government ; and by Marshal St. Arnaud out
of deference to the Emperor of the French, and
because Lord Raglan too did not see his way to
decline the responsibUity of it. The alUed forces
were therefore conveyed to the south-western shore of
the Crimea, and effected a landing in Kalamita Bay,
a short distance north of the point at which the river
Alma runs into the sea, Sebastopol itseK lies about
thirty mUes to the south ; and then more southward
still, divided by the bulk of a jutting promontory
from Sebastopol, is the harbour of Balaklava. The
disembarkation began on the morning of September
14, 1854. It was completed on the fifth day; and
there were then some 27,000 EngUsh, 30,000 French,
and 7,000 Turks, landed on the shores of Catherine
the Great's Crimea. The landing was effected with
out any opposition from the Russians. On September
19 the alUes marched out of their encampments and
moved southward in the direction of Sebastopol.
They had a skirmish or two with a reconnoitring

300 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xxvir
force of Russian cavalry and Cossacks ; but they had
no business of genuine war untU they reached the
nearer bank of the Alma. The Russians in great
strength had taken up a splendid position on the
heights that fringed the other side of the river.
The allied forces reached the Alma about noon on
September 20. They found that they had to cross
the river in the face of the Russian batteries armed
with heavy . guns on the highest point of the hills
or bluffs, of scattered artillery, and of dense masses
of infantry which covered the hills. The Russians
were under the command of Prince Mentschikoff.
It is certain that Prince MentschUioff believed his
position unassailable, and was convinced that his
enemies were delivered into his hands when he
saw the allies approach and attempt to effect the
crossing of the river. He had allowed them, of deU
berate purpose, to approach thus far. He might have
attacked them on their landing, or on their two days'
march towards the river. But he did not choose to
do anything of the kind. He had carefully sought
out a strong and what he considered an impreg
nable position. He had found it, as he beUeved,
on the south bank of the Alma ; and there he was
simply biding his time. His idea was that he
could hold his ground for some days against the
aUies with ease; that he would keep them there,
play "with them, untU the great reinforcements he
was expecting could come to him; and then he
would suddenly take the offensive and crush the
enemy. He proposed to make of the Alma aud its

1854. TIIE BATTLE OF THE ALMA. 301
banks the grave of the invaders. But "with character
istic arrogance and lack of care he had neglected some
of the very precautions which were essentially neces
sary to secure any position, however strong. He had.
not taken the pains to make himseK certain that every
easy access to his position was closed against the
attack of the enemy. The attack was made with des
perate courage on the part of the aUies, but without
any great skiU of leadership or tenacity of discipline.
It was rather a peU-meU sort of fight, in which the
headlong courage and the indomitable obstinacy of
the EngUsh and French troops carried all before
them at last. A study of the battle is of Uttle profit
to the ordinary reader. It was an heroic scramble.
There was Uttle coherence of action between the allied
forces. But there was happUy an almost total absence
of generalship on the part of the Russians. The
soldiers of the Czar fought stoutly and stubbornly as
they have always done ; but they could not stand up
against the blended vehemence and obstinacy of the
EngUsh and French. The river was crossed, the op
posite heights were mounted. Prince Mentschikoff's
great redoubt was carried, the Russians were driven
from the field, the aUies, occupied their ground ; the
victory was to the Western Powers. Indeed it would
not be unfair to say that the "victory was to the
English ; owing to whatever cause, the French did not
take that share in the heat of the battle which their
strength and their miUtary genius might have ' led
men to expect. St. Arnaud, their commander-in-
chief, was in wretched health, on the point of death.

o

02 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TBIES. cn. xxTir.

in fact ; he was in no condition to guide the battle ;
a brUUant enterprise of General Bosquet was Ul-
supported and had nearly proved a faUure ; and Prince
Napoleon's di-vision got hopelessly jammed up and
confused. Perhaps it would be fairer to say that iu
the confusion and scramble of the whole affair we
were more lucky than the French. If a number of
men are rushing headlong and in the dark towards
some distant point, one may run against an unthought-
of obstacle and fall do"wn and so lose his chance, whUe
his comrade happens to meet with no such stumbUng-
block and goes right on. Perhaps this Ulustration
may not unfairly distribute the parts taken in the
battle. It would be superfluous to say that the French
fought splendidly where they had any real chance of
fighting. But the luck of the day was not -with them.
On aU sides the battle was fought "without general
ship. On aU sides the bravery of the officers and
men was worthy of any general. Our men were the
luckiest. They saw the heights ; they saw the enemy
there; they made for him; they got at him; they
would not go back ; and so he had to give way. That
was the history of the day. The big scramble was
all over in a few hours. The first field was fought,
and we had won.
The Russians ought to have been pursued. They
themselves fully expected a pursuit. They retreated
in something Uke utter confusion, eager to put the
Katcha river, which runs south of the Alma and "with
a somewhat similar course, between them and the
imaginary pursuers. Had they been followed to the

1854. HEROICS. 303
Katcha they might have been all made prisoners or
destroyed. But there was no pursuit. Lord Raglan
was eager to follow up the victory ; but the French
had as yet hardly any cavalry, and Marshal St. Arnaud
would not agree to any further enterprise that day.
Lord Raglan beUeved that he ought not to persist ;
and nothing was done. The Russians were unable at
first to believe in their good fortune. It seemed to
them for a long time impossible that any commanders
in the worid could have failed, under conditions so
tempting, to follow a flying and disordered enemy.
Except for the bravery of those who fought, the
battle was not much to boast of. The aUies too-ether
considerably outnumbered the Russians, although,
from the causes we have mentioned, the Englishmen
were left throughout the greater part of the day to
encounter an enemy numerically superior, posted on
difficult and commanding heights. But it was the first
great battle which for nearly forty years our soldiers
had fought with a civiUsed enemy. The mUitary
authorities and the country were well disposed to
make the most of it. At this distance of time it is
almost touching to read some of the heroic contem
poraneous descriptions of the great scramble of the
Alma. It miffht almost seem as K, in the imagfinino-s
of the enthusiastic historians. Englishmen had never
mounted heights and defeated superior numbers be
fore. The subUme triumphs against every adverse
condition which had been won by the genius of a
Marlborough or a Wellington could not have been
celebrated in language of more exalted dithyrambic

304 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TBIES. cn. xxvn.
pomp. The gallant medley on the banks of the Alma
and the fruitless interval of inaction that followed it
were told of as K men were speaking of some battle
of the gods.
Very soon, however, a different note came to be
sounded. The campaign had been opened under
conditions differing from those of most campaigns
that went before it. Science had added many new
discoveries to the art of war. Literature had added
one remarkable contribution of her own to the con
ditions amid which campaigns were to be carried on.
She had added the 'special correspondent.' The old-
fashioned historiographer of wars traveUed to please
sovereigns and minister to the self-conceit of con
querors. The modern special correspondent had a
very different purpose. He watched the movements
of armies and criticised the policy of generals in the
interest of some journal, which for its part was con
cerned only for the information of the public. No
favour that courts or monarchs could bestow was
worthy a moment's consideration in the mind even of
the most selfish proprietor of a newspaper when com
pared with the reward which the public could give to
him and to his paper for quick and accurate news and
trustworthy comment. The business of the special
correspondent has grown so much since the Crimean
War that we are now inclined to look back upon the
war correspondents of those days almost as men then
did upon the old-fashioned historiographer. The war
correspondent now scrawls his despatches as he sits
in his saddle under the fire of the enemy ; he scrawls

1854. THE WAR CORRESPONDENT. 305
them ¦with a pencU, noting and describing each inci
dent of the fight, so far as he can see it, as cooUy as
K he were describing a re"view of volunteers in Hyde
Park ; and he contrives to send off his narrative by
telegraph before the victor in the fight has begun to
pursue, or has settled down to hold the ground he
won ; and the war correspondent's story is expected
to be as briUiant and picturesque in style as it ought
to be exact and faithful in its statements. In the
days of the Crimea things had not advanced quite
so far as that ; the war was weU on before the sub
marine telegraph between Varna and the Crimea
aUowed of daUy reports ; but the feats of the war
correspondent then filled men's minds "with wonder.
When the expedition was lea-ving England it was
accompanied by a special correspondent from each of
the great daUy papers of London. " The Times sent
out a representative whose name almost immediately
became celebrated — Mr. WUUam Howard RusseU,
the preux chevalier of war correspondents in that day
as Mr. Archibald Forbes of the Daily News is in this.
Mr. RusseU rendered some ser-vice to the Eng-Ush
army and to his country, however, which no bril-
Uancy of Uterary style would alone have enabled him
to do. It was to his great credit as a man of judg
ment and observation that, being a ci-viUan who had
never before seen one puff of war- smoke, he was able
to distinguish between the confusion inseparable from
aU actual levying of war and the confiision that comes
of distinctly bad administration. To the unaccus
tomed eye of an ordinary ci-vUian the whole progress
VOL. II. s

306 A HISTORY OF OUR O'WN TBIES. CH. xxvir.
of a campaign, the development of a battle, the
arrangements of the commissariat, appear, at any mo
ment of actual pressure, to be nothing but a mass
of confusion. He is accustomed in civU Ufe to find
everything in its proper place, and every emergency
weU provided for. When he is suddenly plunged
into the midst of a campaign he is apt to think that
everything must be going -wrong ; or else he assumes
contentedly that the whole is in the hands of persons
who know better than he, and that it would be absurd
on his part to attempt to criticise the arrangements of
the men whose business it is to understand them.
Mr. RusseU soon saw that there was confusion ; and
he had the soundness of judgment to know that
the confusion was that of a breaking-do-wn system.
Therefore, whUe the fervour of deUght in the courage
and success of our army was stUl fresh in the minds
of the pubUc at home, while every music-haU was
ringing "with the cheap rewards of valour in the shape
of popular glorifications of our commanders and our
soldiers, the readers of the Times began to learn that
things were faring badly indeed "with the conquering
army of the Alma. The ranks were thinned by the
ravages of cholera. The men were pursued by cholera
to the very battle field, Lord Raglan himseK said. No
system can charm away all the effects of climate; but
it appeared only too soon that the arrangements made
to encounter the indirect and inevitable dangers of a
campaign were miserably inefficient. The hospitals
were in a wretchedly disorganised condition. Stores
of medicines and strengthening food were decaying in

1854. DISAPPOINTMENT AT HOME. 307
places where no one wanted them or could well get
at them, whUe men were dying in hundreds among
our tents in the Crimea for lack of them. The system
of clothing, of transport, of feeding, of nursing — every
thing had broken down. Ample pro-visions had been
got together and paid for ; and when they came to be
needed no one knew where to get at them. The
special correspondent of the Times and other corre
spondents continued to din these things into the ears
of the pubUc at home. Exultation began to give way
to a feeling of dismay. The patriotic anger against
the Russians was changed for a mood of deep indig
nation against our o-wn authorities and our o-wn
war administration. It soon became apparent to
everyone that the whole campaign had been planned
on the assumption that it was to be Uke the career of
the hero whom Byron laments, ' brief, brave, and
glorious.' Our mUitary authorities here at home — ¦
we do not speak of the commanders in the field — had
made up their minds that Sebastopol was to faU Uke
another Jericho, at the sound of the war-trumpets'
blast. Our commanders in the field were, on the con
trary, rather disposed to overrate than to underrate
the strength of the Russians. It was, therefore,
somewhat like the condition of things described in
Macaulay's ballad : those behind cried forward, those
in front caUed back. It is very Ukely that K a sud
den dash had been made at Sebastopol by land and
sea, it might have been taken almost at the very open
ing of the war. But the delay gave the Russians fuU
x2

308 A HISTORY OF OUR O'WN TIMES, cn xxvri.
warning ; and they did not neglect it. On the third
day after the battle of the Alma the Russians sank
seven vessels of their Black Sea fleet at the entrance
of the harbour of Sebastopol. This was done fuU in
the sight of the alUed fleets, who at first, misunder
standing the movements going on among the enemy,
thought the Russian squadron were about to come
out from their shelter and try conclusions with the
Western ships. But the real purpose of the Russians
became soon apparent. Under the eyes of the aUies
the seven vessels slowly settled down and sank in the
water untU at last only the tops of their masts were
to be seen; and the entrance of the harbour was
barred as by sunken rocks against any approach of
an enemy's ship. There was an end to every dream
of a sudden capture of Sebastopol.
The alUed armies moved again from their posi
tions on the Alma ; but they did not direct their
march to the north side of Sebastopol. They made
for Balaklava, which Ues south of the city, on the
other side of a promontory, and which has a port
that might enable them to secure a constant means
of communication between the armies and the fleets.
To reach Balaklava the aUied forces had to undertake
a long and fatiguing flank march, passing Sebastopol
on their right. They accomplished the march in
safety and occupied the heights above Balaklava, whUe
the fleets appeared at the same time in the harbour.
Sebastopol was but a few mUes off, and preparations
were at once made for an attack on it by land and
sea. On October 17 the attack began. It was prac-

1854. THE CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE. 309
tically a faUure. Nothing better indeed could well
have been expected. The fleet could not get near
enough to the sea-forts of Sebastopol to make their
broadsides of any real effect, because of the shaUoW
water and the sunken ships ; and although the attack
from the land was "vigorous and was fiercely kept up,
yet it could not carry its object. It became clear that
Sebastopol was not to be taken by any coup de main ;
and the aUies had not men enough to invest it. They
were, therefore, to some extent themselves in the
condition of a besieged force, for the Russians had
a large army outside Sebastopol ready to make every
sacrifice for the purpose of preventing the EngUsh
and French from getting even a chance of undisturbed
operations against it.
The Russians attacked the allies fiercely on
October 25, in the hope of obtaining possession of
Balaklava. The attempt was bold and brUliant ; but
it was splendidly repulsed. Never did a day of
battle do more credit to EngUsh courage, or less
perhaps to EngUsh generalship. The cavalry par
ticularly distinguished themselves. It was in gTeat
measure on our side a cavalry action. It "wUl be
memorable in all English history as the battle in
which occurred the famous charge of the Light
Brigade. 0-wing to some fatal misconception of the
meaning of an order from the Commander-in-Chief,
the Light Brigade, 607 men in all, charged what has
been rightly described as ' the Russian army in posi
tion.' The brigade was composed of 118 men of the
4th Light Dragoons ; 104 of the 8th Hussars ; 110

310 A HISTORY OF OUR 0"WN TBIES. cn. xxvir.
of the 11th Hussars ; 130 of the 13th Light Dra
goons ; and 145 of the 17th Lancers, Of the 607
men 198 came back. Long, painful, and hopeless
were the disputes about this fatal order. The con
troversy can never be whoUy settled. The officer
who bore the order was one of the first who feU in
the outset. AU Europe, aU the world, rang with
wonder and admiration of the futUe and splendid
charge. The Poet Laureate sang of it in spirited
verses. Perhaps its best epitaph was contained in
the celebrated comment ascribed to the French
General Bosquet, and which has since become pro
verbial, and been quoted untU men are weU nigh
tired of it — 'It was magnificent, but it was not wai\'
Next day the enemy made another vigorous
attack, on a much larger scale, moving out of
Sebastopol itseK, and were again repulsed. The
allies were able to prevent the troops who made the
sortie from co-operating "with the Russian army out
side who had attacked at Balaklava. The latter were
endeavouring to entrench themselves at the Uttle
viUage of Inkerman, lying on the north of Sebas
topol ; but the stout resistance they met "wdth from
the allies frustrated their plans. On November 5
the Russians made another grand attack on the
aUies, chiefly on the British, and were once more
splendidly repulsed. The plateau of Inkerman was
the principal scene of the struggle. It was occupied
by the Guards and a few British regiments, on whom
fell, untU General Bosquet "with his French was able
to come to their assistance, the task of resisting a

1854. SOLDIERS' BATTLES. 311
Russian army. This was the severest and the
fiercest engagement of the campaign. The loss to
the. EngUsh was 2,612, of whom 145 were officers.
The French lost about 1,700. The Russians were
beUeved to have lost 12,000 men ; but at no time
could any clear account be obtained of the Russian
losses. It was beUeved that they brought a force of
50,000 men to the attack. Inkerman was described
at the time as the soldiers' battle. Strategy, it was
said everywhere, there was none. The attack was made
under cover of a dark and drizzling mist. The battle
was fought for a whUe almost absolutely in the dark.
There was hardly any attempt to direct the aUies by
any principles of scientific warfare. The soldiers
fought stubbornly a series of hand-to-hand fights,
and we are entitled to say that the better men won
in the end. We fuUy admit that it was a soldiers'
battle. All the comment we have to make upon the
epithet is, that we do not exactly know which of the
engagements fought in the Crimea was anything but
a soldiers' battle. Of course with the soldiers we
take the officers. A battle in the Crimea "wdth which
generalship had anything particular to do has cer
tainly not come under the notice of this 'writer. Mr.
Kinglake tells that at Alma Marshal St. Arnaud, the
French Commander-in-Chief, addressing General Can-
robert and Prince Napoleon, said — ' With such men
as you I have no orders to give ; I have but to
point to the enemy.' This seems to have been the
general principle on which the commanders conducted
the- campaign. There were , the enemy's forces — let

312 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xxvn.
the men go at them any way they could. Nor under
the circumstances could anything much better have
been done. When orders were given it appeared
more than once as K things would have gone better
without them. The soldier won his battle always.
No general could prevent him from doing that.
MeanwhUe what were people saying in England?
They were indignantly declaring that the whole
campaign was a muddle. It was evident now that
Sebastopol was not going to faU aU at once ; it was
e"vident too that the preparations had been made on
the assumption that it must fall at once. To make
the disappointment more bitter at home the pubUc had
been deceived for a few days by a false report of the
taking of Sebastopol ; and the disappointment natu
raUy increased the impatience and dissatisfaction of
Englishmen. The fleet that had been sent out to the
Baltic came back without having accomplished any
thing in particular; and although there really was
nothing in particular that it could have accomplished
under the circumstances, yet many people were as
angry as K it had culpably aUowed the enemy
to escape it on the open seas. The saUing of the
Baltic fleet had indeed been preceded by ceremonials
especially calculated to make any enterprise ridiculous
which faUed to achieve some startling success. It was
put under the command of Sir Charles Napier, a brave
old salt of the fast-fading school of SmoUett's Com
modore Trunnion, rough, dashing, buU-headed, Ukely
enough to succeed where sheer force and courage
could win victories, but wanting in aU the inteUectual

1854. SIR CHARLES NAPIER. 313
quaUties of a commander, and endowed with a violent
tongue and an almost unmatched indiscretion. Sir
Charles Napier was a member of a family famed for
its warriors ; but he had not anything like the capa
city of his cousin the other SU Charles Napier, the
conqueror of Scinde, or the intellect of Sir WilUam
Napier, the historian of the Peninsular War. He
had won some signal and surprising successes in the
Portuguese civU war and in Syria ; aU under condi
tions whoUy different and with an enemy whoUy dU-
ferent from those he wotUd have to encounter in the
Baltic. But the voice of admiring friends was tumul
tuously raised to predict splendid things for him
before his fleet had left its port, and he himself quite
forgot in his rough self-confidence the difference be
tween boasting when one is taking off his armour
and boasting when one is only putting it on. His
friends . entertained him at a farewell dinner at the
Reform Club. Lord Palmerston was present and Sir
James Graham, the First Lord of the Admiralty, and
a great deal of exuberant nonsense was talked. Lord
Palmerston, carried away by his natural bonhomie
and his high animal spirits, showered the most extra
vagant praises upon the gallant admiral, intermixed
with jokes which set the company laughing con-
sumedly, but which read by the outer public next day
seemed unbecoming preludes to an expedition that
was to be part of a great war and of terrible national
sacrifices. The one only thing that could have ex
cused the whole performance would have been some
overwhelming success on the part of him who was its

314 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TBIES. ch. xxvrr.
hero. But it is not probable that a Dundonald, or
even a Nelson, could have done much in the Baltic just
then ; and Napier was not a Dundonald or a Nelson.
The Baltic fleet came home safely after a whUe, its
commander ha"ving brought with him nothing but a
grievance which lasted him aU the remainder of his
Ufe. The pubUc were amazed, scornful, wrathful ; they
began to think that they were destined to see nothing
but faUure as the fruit of the campaign. In truth
they were extravagantly impatient. Perhaps they
were not to be blamed. Their leaders, who ought to
have kno"wn better, had been fiUing them with the
idea that they had nothing to do but to sweep the
enemy from sea and land.
The temper of a people thus stimulated and thus
disappointed is almost always indiscriminating and
unreasonable in its censure. The first idea is to find
a victim. The "victim on whom the anger of a large
portion of the pubUc turned in this instance was the
Prince Consort. The most absurd ideas, the most
cruel and baseless calumnies, were in circulation about
him. He was accused of ha"ving out of some inscru
table motive made use of aU his secret influence to
prevent the success of the campaign. He was charged
"with being in a consphacy "with Prussia, "with Russia,
"with no one knew exactly whom, to weaken the
strength of England, and secure a triumph for her
enemies. Stories were actuaUy told at one time of
his ha"ving been arrested for high treason. He had in
one of his speeches about this time said that constitu
tional government was under a heavy trial, and could

1854. ATTACKS ON PRINCE ALBERT. 315
Only pass triumphantly through it K the country
would grant its confidence to her Majesty's Govern
ment. In this observation, as the whole context of
the speech showed, the Prince was only explaining
that the Queen's Government were placed at a disad
vantage, in the carrying on of a war, as compared "with
a Government like that of the Emperor of the French,
who could act of his o-wn arbitrary -wiU, without
check, delay, or control on the part of any ParUa
mentary body. But the speech was instantly fastened
on as Ulustrating the Prince's settled and unconquer
able dislike of aU constitutional and popular principles
of government. Those who opposed the Prince had
not indeed been waiting for his speech at the Trinity
House dinner to denounce and condemn him ; but
the sentence in that speech to which reference has
been made opened upon him a new torrent of hostUe
criticism. The charges which sprang of this heated
and unjust temper on the part of the pubUc did not
indeed long prevail against the Prince Consort. When
once the subject came to be taken up in ParUament
it was sho-wn almost in a moment that there was not
the sUghtest ground or excuse for any of the absurd
surmises and cruel suspicions which had been creat
ing so much agitation. The agitation coUapsed in a
moment. But whUe it lasted it was both vehement
and intense, and gave much pain to the Prince, and
far more pain stUl to the Queen his vnfe.
We have seen more lately and on a larger scale
something Uke the phenomenon of that time. During
the war between France and Germany the people of

316 A HISTORY OF OUR O'WN TIMES. ch. xxvir.
Paris went nearly "wUd "with the idea that they had
been betrayed, and were clamorous for victims to
punish anywhere or anyhow. To many calm EngUsh
men this seemed monstrously unreasonable and un
worthy ; and the French people received from EngUsh
-writers many grave rebukes and wise exhortations.
But the temper of the English pubUc at one period of
the Crimean War was becoming very like that which
set Paris wUd during the disastrous struggle -with
Germany. The passions of peoples are, it is to be
feared, very much . alike in their impulses and even
in their manUestations ; and K England during the
Crimean War never came to the "wUd condition into
which Paris feU during the later struggle, it is perhaps
rather because on the whole things went well with
England than in consequence of any very great supe
riority of Englishmen in judgment and self-restraint
over the excitable people of France. Certainly those
who remember what we may call the dark days of the
Crimean campaign, when disappointment foUo-wing on
extravagant confidence had incited popular passion to
call for some victim, wUl find themselves slow to set a
limit to the lengths that passion might have reached
K the Russians had actuaUy been successful even in
one or two battbs.
The -winter was gloomy at home as weU as abroad.
The news constantly arri-ving from the Crimea told
only of devastation caused by foes far more formidable
than the Russians — sickness, bad weather, bad manage
ment. The Black Sea was swept and scourged by
terrible storms. The destruction of transport-ships

1854-65. A BLACK "WINTER. 317
laden with -winter stores for our men was of incal
culable injury to the army. Clothing, blanketing, pro
visions, hospital necessaries of aU kinds, were destroyed
in vast quantities. The loss of Ufe among the crews
of the vessels was immense. A storm was nearly as
disastrous in this way as a battle. On shore the
sufferings of the army were unspeakable. The tents
were torn from their pegs and blo-wn away. The
officers and men were exposed to the bitter cold and
the fierce stormy blasts. Our soldiers had for the
most part little experience or even idea of such cold
as they had to encounter this gloomy -winter. The
intensity of the cold was so great that no one might
dare to touch any metal substance in the open air
"with his bare hand under penalty of lea"ving the
skin behind him. The hospitals for the sick and
wounded at Scutari were in a "wretchedly disorganised
condition. They were for the most part in an abso
lutely chaotic condition as regards arrangement and
supply. In some instances medical stores were left
to decay at Varna, or were found lying useless in the
holds of vessels in Balaklava Bay, which were needed
for the wounded at Scutari. The medical officers were
able and zealous men ; the stores were provided and
paid for so far as our Government was concerned ; but
the stores were not brought to the medical men. These
had their hands aU but idle, their eyes and souls tor
tured by the sight of sufferings which they were
unable to reUeve for want of the commonest appUances
of the hospital. The most extraordinary instances of
blunder and confusion were constantly coming to

318 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TBIES. ch. xxvir.
Ught. Great consignments of boots arrived, and were
found to be aU for the left foot. Mules for the convey
ance of stores were contracted for and delivered, but
delivered so that they came into the hands of the
Russians and not of us. Shameful frauds were per
petrated in the instance of some of the contracts for
preserved meat. ' One man's preserved meat,' ex
claimed Punch "with bitter humour, ' is another man's
poison.' The e"vUs of the hospital disorganisation
were happUy made a means of bringing about a new
system of attending to the sick and wounded in war
which has already created something lUce a revolution
in the manner of treating the victims of battle.
Mr. Sidney Herbert, horrified at the way in which
things were managed in Scutari and the Crimea,
appUed to a distinguished woman who had long taken
a deep interest in hospital reform to superintend per
sonaUy the nursing of the soldiers. Miss Florence
Nightingale was the daughter of a wealthy EngUsh
country gentleman. She had chosen not to pass her
IKe in fashionable or aesthetic inactivity ; and had
from a very early period tumed her attention to sana
tory questions. She had studied nursing as a science
and a system ; had made herseK acquainted "with the
working of various continental institutions ; and about
the time when the war broke out she was actuaUy
engaged in reorganising the Sick Governesses' Institu
tion in Harley Street, London. To her Mr. Sidney
Herbert turned. He offered her, K she would accept
the task he proposed, plenary authority over aU the
nurses, and an unUmited power of dra"wing on the

1854. MISS FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE. 319
Government for whatever she might think necessary
to the success of her undertaking. Miss Nightingale
accepted the task, and went out to Scutari accompanied
by some women of rank like her 0"wn, and a trained staff
of nurses. They speedUy reduced chaos into order ;
and from the time of their landing in Scutari there
was at least one department of the business of war
which was never again a subject of complaint. The
spirit of the chivalric days had been restored under
better auspices for its abiding influence. Ladies of
rank once more devoted themselves to the service of
the wounded ; and the end was come of the Mrs. Gamp
and Mrs. Prig type of nurse. Sidney Herbert, in his
letter to Miss Nightingale, had said that her example,
K she accepted the task he proposed, would ' multiply
the good to all time.' These words proved to have
no exaggeration in them. We have never seen a war
since in which women of education and of genuine
devotion have not given themselves up to the task of
caring for the wounded. The Geneva Convention and
the bearing of the Red Cross are among the results of
Florence Nightingale's work in the Crimea.
But the siege of Sebastopol was meanwhUe drag
ging heavUy along ; and sometimes it was not quite
certain which ought to be caUed the besieged, the Rus
sians in the city or the aUies encamped in sight of it.
During some months the allied armies did little or
nothing. The commissariat system and the land
transport system had broken do-wn. The armies were
miserably weakened by sickness. Cholera was ever
and anon raging anew among our men. Horses and

320 A HISTORY OF OUR O'WN TBIES. cn. xxvir,
mules were dying of cold and starvation. The roads
were only deep irregular ruts fiUed -with mud; the
camp was a marsh ; the tents stood often in pools of
water; the men had sometimes no beds but straw
dripping -with wet; and hardly any bed coverings.
Our unfortunate Turkish aUies were in a far more
wretched plight than even we ourselves. The autho
rities who ought to have looked after them were
imper-vious to the criticisms of special correspon
dents and unassailable by parUamentary votes of
censure. A condemnation of the latter kind was
hanging over our Government. Lord John RusseU
became impressed with the conviction that the Duke
of Newcastle was not strong enough for the post of
War Minister ; and he wrote to Lord Aberdeen urging
that the War Department should be given to Lord
Palmerston. Lord Aberdeen replied that although
another person might have been a better choice when
the appointments were made in the first instance, yet
in the absence of any proved defect or aUeged inca
pacity there was no sufficient ground for making a
kind of speculative change. Parliament was called
together before Christmas ; and after the Christmas
recess Mr, Roebuck gave notice that he would move
for a select committee to inquire into the condition of
the army before Sebastopol, and into the conduct of
those departments of the Govemment whose duty it
had been to minister to the wants of the army. Lord
John RusseU did not believe for himself that the
motion could be conscientiously resisted; but as
it necessarUy involved a censure upon some of his

1855. MR. roebuck's MOTION. 321
coUeagues, he did not think he ought to remain longer
in the Ministry and he therefore resigned his office.
The sudden resignation of the leader of the House of
Commons was a death-blow to any plans of resist
ance by which the Government might otherwise have
thought of encountering Mr. Roebuck's motion.
Lord Palmerston, although Lord John RusseU's
course was a marked tribute to his own capacity, had
remonstrated warmly "with RusseU by letter as to his
determination to resign. ' You "wUl have the ap'-
pearance,' he said, ' of having remained in office aid
ing in carrying on a system of which you disapprove
untU driven out by Roebuck's announced notice;
and the Govemment "wUl have the appearance of seK-
condemnation by flying from a discussion which they
dare not face ; while as regards the country the action
of the executive -will be paralysed for a time in a criti
cal moment of a great war, -with an impending nego
tiation, and we shall exhibit to the world a melancholy
spectacle of disorganisation among our poUtical men
at home simUar to that which has prevaUed among
our military men abroad.' The remonstrance, how
ever, came too late, even K it could have had any
effect at any time. Mr. Roebuck's motion came on,
and was resisted with vigour by Lord Palmerston and
Mr. Gladstone. Lord Palmerston insisted that the
responsibUity ought to faU not on the Duke of New
castle but on the whole Cabinet ; and with a generosity
which his keenest opponents might have admitted to
be characteristic of him, he accepted the task of de
fending an Administration whose chief blame was in
VOL. IL Y

322 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES, cn. xxvn.
the eyes of most persons that they had not given the
control of the war into his hands. Mr. Gladstone
declared that the inquiry sought for by the resolution
could lead to nothing but 'confusion and disturb
ance, increased disasters, shame at home and weakness
abroad; it would convey no consolation to those
whom you seek to aid, but it would carry maUgnant
joy to the hearts of the enemies of England.' The
House of Commons was not to be moved by any
such argument or appeal. The one pervading idea
was that England had been endangered and shamed
by the break-do-wn of her army organisation. When
the division took place 305 members voted for Mr.
Roebuck's motion and only 148 against. The ma
jority against Ministers was therefore 157. Everyone
knows what a scene usuaUy takes place when a Mi
nistry is defeated in the House of Commons. Cheer
ing again and again renewed, counter-cheers of de
fiance, -wUd exultation, vehement indignation, a whole
whirlpool of various emotions seething in that little
haUin St. Stephen's. But this time there was no such
outburst. The House could hardly realise the fact that
the Ministry of all the talents had been thus completely
and ignominiously defeated. A dead sUence foUowed
the announcement of the numbers. Then there was a
haK-breathless murmur of amazement and increduUty.
The Speaker repeated the numbers, and doubt was
over. It was stUl uncertain how the House would
express its feelings. Suddenly some one laughed.
The sound gave a direction and a relief to perplexed,
pent-up emotion. Shouts of laughter followed. Not

FALL OF THE COALITION GO'VERNSIENT. 323
merely the pledged opponents of the Government
laughed. Many of those who had voted with Minis
ters found themselves laughing too. It seemed so
absurd, so incongruous, this way of disposing of the
great Coalition Government. Many must have thought
of the night of fierce debate, Uttle more than two
years before, when Mr. Disraeli, then on the verge
of his faU fr'om power and realising fuUy the strength
of the combination against him, consoled his party
and himseK for the imminent fataUty awaiting them
by the defiant words, ' I know that I have to face a
Coalition ; the combination may be successful. A
combination has before this been successful; but
coalitions, though they may be successful, have always
found that their triumphs have been brief. This I
know, that England does not love coaUtions.' Only
two years had passed and the great CoaUtion had
faUen, overwhelmed -with reproach and poptdar in
dignation, and amid sudden shouts of laughter.

324 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TBIES. cn. xxvirr,

CHAPTER XXVIII.
THE CLOSE OF THE WAR.
On February 15, 1855, Lord Palmerston wrote to
his brother : ' A month ago K any man had asked me
to say what was one of the most improbable events, I
should have said my being Prime Minister. Aber
deen was there, Derby was head of- one great party,
John Russell of the other, and yet in about ten days
time they aU gave way Uke straws before the -wind ;
and so here am I, "writing to you from Downing
Street, as First Lord of the Treasury.'
No doubt Lord Palmerston was sincere in the ex
pression of surprise which we have quoted ; but there
were not many other men in the country who felt in
the least astonished at the turn of events by which
he had become Prime Minister. Indeed, it had long
become apparent to almost everyone that his assum
ing that place was only a question of time. The
country was in that mood that it would absolutely
have somebody at the head of affaUs who knew his
o-wn mind and saw his way clearly before him. When
the Coalition Ministry broke do"wn. Lord Derby was
invited by the Queen to form a Government. He
tried and faUed. He did all in his power to accom
plish the task with which the Queen had entrusted

1856. THE INEVITABLE. 325
him. He invited Lord Palmerston to join hun, and
it was intimated that K Palmerston consented Mr.
DisraeU would waive all claim to the leadership of
the House of Commons, in order that Palmerston
should have that place. Lord Derby also offered,
through Lord Palmerston, places in his Adminis
tration to ]Mr. Gladstone and Mr. Sidney Herbert.
Palmerston did not see his way to join a Derby
Administration, and without him Lord Derby could
not go on. The Queen then sent for Lord John
RusseU; but Russell's late and precipitate retreat
from his office had discredited him with most of his
former coUeagues ; and he found that he could not
get a Government together. Lord Palmerston was
then, to use his own phrase, I'inevitable. There was
not much change in the personnel of the Ministry.
Lord Aberdeen was gone, and Lord Palmerston took
his place ; and Lord Panmure, who had formerly as
Fox Maule administered the affairs of the army, suc
ceeded the Duke of Newcastle. Lord Panmure, how
ever, combined in his o-wn person the functions, up
to that time absurdly separated, of Secretary-at-War
and Secretary-for-War. The Secretary-at-War under
the old system was not one of the principal Secre
taries of State. He was merely the officer by whom
the regular communication was kept up between the
War Office and the Ministry, and has been described
as the ci-vil officer of the army. The Secretary-for-
War was commonly entrusted -with the colonial
department as weU. The two War Offices were
now made into one. It was hoped that by this

326 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TBIES. cn. xxvin.
change great benefit would come to our whole army
system. Lord PaUnerston acted energetically too
in sending out a sanitary commission to the Crimea,
and a commission to superintend the commis
sariat, a department that, almost more than any
other, had broken do-wn. Nothing could be more
strenuous than the terms in which Lord Palmer
ston recommended the sanitary commission to Lord
Raglan. He requested that Lord Raglan would
give the commissioners every assistance in his power.
' They "wUl, of course, be opposed and thwarted by the
medical officers, by the men who have charge of the
port arrangements, and by those who have the clean
ing of the camp. Their mission -wUl be ridiculed, and
their recommendations and directions set aside, unless
enforced by the peremptory exercise of your autho
rity. But that authority I must request you to exert
in the most peremptory manner for the immediate
and exact carrying into execution whatever changes
of arrangement they may recommend ; for these are
matters on which depend the health and Uves of many
htmdreds of men, I may indeed say of thousands.'
Lord Palmerston was strongly pressed by some of
the more strenuous Reformers of the House. Mr,
Layard, who had acquired some celebrity before in a
very different field, as a discoverer, that is to say, in
the ruins of Nineveh and Babylon, was energetic and
incessant in his attacks on the administration of the
war, and was not disposed even now to give the new
Government a moment's rest, Mr, Layard was a
man of a certain rough abUity, immense seK-suffi-

1855. MR. LAYARD. 327
ciency, and indomitable egotism. He was not in any
sense an eloquent speaker ; he was singularly want
ing in aU the graces of style and manner. But he
was fluent, he was vocKerous, he never seemed to
have a moment's doubt on any conceivable question,
he never admitted that there could by any possibiUty
be two sides to any matter of discussion. He did
reaUy know a great deal about the East at a time
when the habit of traveUing in the East was com
paratively rare. He stamped down aU doubt or dff-
ference of "view "with the overbearing dogmatism of
Sir Walter Scott's Touchwood, or of the proverbial man
who has been there and ought to know ; and he was
in many respects admirably fitted to be the spokes
man of aU those, and they were not a few, who saw
that things had been going wrong -without exactly
seeing why, and were eager that something should be
done, although they did not clearly know what. Lord
Palmerston strove to induce the House not to press
for the appointment of the committee recommended
in Mr. Roebuck's motion. The Government, he said,
would make the needful inquiries themselves. He
reminded the House of Richard II. 's offer to lead the
men of the faUen Tyler's insurrection himseK; and in
the same spirit he offered on the part of the Govem
ment to take the lead in every necessary investiga
tion. Mr. Roebuck, however, would not give way,
and Lord PaUnerston yielded to a demand which had
undoubtedly the support of a vast force of pubUc
opinion. The constant argument of Mr. Layard had
some sense in it : the Government now in office was

328 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TBIES. cn. xxvin.
•
very much like the Government in which the House
had declared so lately that it had no confidence. It
could hardly, therefore, be expected that the House
rshould accept its existence as guarantee enough that
everything should be done which its predecessor had
faUed to do. Lord Palmerston gave way, but his
unavoidable concession brought on a new ministerial
crisis. Sir James Graham, Mr. Gladstone, and Mr.
Sidney Herbert declined to hold office any longer.
They had opposed the motion for an inquiry most
gravely and strenuously, and they would not lend any
countenance to it by remaining in office. Sir Charles
Wood succeeded Sir James Graham as First Lord of
the Admiralty ; Lord John RusseU took the place of
Secretary of the Colonies, vacated by Sidney Herbert ;
and Sir George CornewaU Lewis followed Mr. Glad
stone as ChanceUor of the Exchequer.
MeanwhUe new negotiations for peace, set on foot
sunder the influence of Austria, had been begun at
Vienna, and Lord John RusseU had been sent there
to represent the interests of England. The Conference
opened at Vienna under circumstances that might
have seemed especially favourable to peace. We had
got a new ally, a State not indeed commanding any
great mUitary strength, but fuU of energy and ambi
tion, and representing more than any other perhaps
the tendencies of liberaUsm and the operation of the
comparatively new piinciple of the rights of nation
alities. This was the little kingdom of Sardinia, whose
government was then under the control of one of the
master-spirits of modern politics ; a man who belonged

1855, SARDINIA A.ND CAVOUR, 329
to the class of the Richelieus and the Orange WUliams,
the illustrious Count Cavour, Sardinia, it may be
frankly said, did not come into the alUance because
of any particular sympathies that she had "with one
side or the other of the quarrel between Russia and
the Western Powers, She went into the war in order
that she might have a locus standi in the councUs of
Europe from which to set forth her grievances against
Austria, In the marvellous history of the uprise of
the kingdom of Italy there is a good deal over which,
to use the words of Carlyle, moralities not a few must
shriek aloud. It would not be easy to defend on high
moral principles the policy which struck into a war
¦without any particular care for either side of the con
troversy, but only to serve an ulterior and personal,
that is to say, national purpose. But regarding the
policy merely by the light of its results, it must be
owned that it was singularly successful and entirely
justified the expectations of Cavour. The Crimean
War laid the foundations of the kingdom of Italy.
That was one fact calculated to inspire hopes of a
peace. The greater the number and strength of the
AUies. the greater ob"viously the pressure upon Russia
and the probabUity of her listening to reason. But
there was another event of a very different nature, the
effect of which seemed at first Ukely to be aU in favour
of peace. This was the death of the man whom the
united public opinion of Europe regarded as the author
of the war. On March 2, 1855, the Emperor Nicholas
of Russia died of pulmonary apoplexy, after an attack
of influenza. In other days it would have been said

330 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TBIES. cn. xxvur.
he had died of a broken heart. Perhaps the description
would have been more strictly true than the terms of
the medical report. It was doubtless the effect of
utter disappointment, of the wreck and ruin of hopes
to which a Ufe's ambition had been directed and a
Ufe's energy dedicated, which left that frame of ada
mant open to the sudden dart of sickness. One of
the most remarkable Ulustrations of an artist's genius
devoted to a poUtical subject was the cartoon which
appeared in Punch, and which was caUed 'General
Fevrier turned Traitor.' The Emperor Nicholas had
boasted that Russia had two generals on whom she
cotUd always rely. General Janvier and General Fev
rier; and now the English artist represented General
February, a skeleton in Russian umform, turning
traitor and laying his bony ice-cold hand on the heart
of the Sovereign and betraying him to the tomb. But
indeed it was not General February alone who doomed
Nicholas to death. The Czar died of broken hopes ;
of the recklessness that comes from defeat and despair.
He took no precautions against cold and exposure ;
he treated with a magnanimous disdain the remon
strances of his physicians and his friends. As of
Max Piccolomini in SchUler's noble play, so of him :
men whispered that he wished to die. The Alma
was to him what Austerlitz was to Pitt. From the
moment when the news of that defeat was announced
to him he no longer seemed tc have hope of the
campaign. He took the story of the defeat very much
as Lord North took the surrender of ComwaUis — as
if a buUet had struck him. Thenceforth he was Uke

1853. DEATH OF THE CZAR. 331
one whom the old Scotch phrase would describe as
fey ; one who moved, spoke and Uved under the
shadow of coming death, untU the death came.
The news of the sudden death of the Emperox
created a profound sensation in England. Mr. Bright,
at Manchester, shortly after rebuked what he con
sidered an ignoble levity in the manner of comment
ing on the event among some of the English journals,
but it is right to say that on the whole nothing
could have been more decorous and dignified than
the manner in which the EngUsh pubUc generally
received the news that the country's great enemy was
no more. At first there was, as we have said, a
common impression that Nicholas's son and successor,
Alexander II., would be more anxious to make peace
than his father had been. But this hope was soon
gone. The new Czar could not venture to show him
seK to his people in a less patriotic Ught than his
predecessor. The prospects of the Allies were at the
time remarkably gloomy. There must have seemed
to the new Russian Emperor considerable ground for
the hope that disease, and cold, and bad management
woilld do more harm to the army of England at least
than any Russian general could do. The Conference
at Vienna proved a faUure, and even in some respects
a fiasco. Lord John RusseU, sent to Vienna as our
representative, was instructed that the object he must
hold in view was the admission of Turkey into
the great family of European States. For this end
there were four principal points to be considered : the
condition of the Danubian principaUties, the free navi-

332 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TBIES. cn. xxvnr.
gation of the Danube, the limitation of Russian supre
macy in the Black Sea, and the independence of the
Porte. It was on the attempt to Umit Russian supre
macy in the Black Sea that the negotiations became a
failure. Russia would not consent to any proposal
which could really have the desired effect. She would
agree to an arrangement between Turkey and herseK,
but this was exactly what the Western Powers were
determined not to allow. She decUned to have the
strength of her navy restricted ; and proposed as a
counter- resolution that the Straits should be opened
to the war flags of aU nations, so that K Russia were
strong as a naval Power in the Black Sea, other
Powers might be just as strong K they thought fit.
Lord Palmerston, in a letter to Lord John RusseU,
drUy characterised this proposition, involving as it
would the maintenance by England and France of
permanent fleets in the Black Sea to counterbalance
the fleet of Russia, as a ' mauvaise plaisanterie.' Lord
Palmerston indeed beUeved no more in the sincerity
of Austria throughout all these transactions than he
did in that of Russia. The Conference proved a total
failure, and in its failure it involved a good deal of
the reputation of Lord John RusseU. Like the
French representative, M. Drouyn de Lhuys, Lord
John Russell had been taken by the proposals of
Austria and had supported them in the first instance;
but when the Government at home would not have
them he was stUl induced to remain a member of the
Cabinet and even to condemn in the House of Commons
the recommendations he had supported at Vienna. He

1855. THE VIENNA CONFERENCE. 333
was charged by Mr. DisraeU with having encouraged
the Russian pretensions by declaring at a critical
point of the negotiations that be was disposed to
favour whatever arrangement would best preserve the
honour of Russia. ' What has the representative of
England,' Mr. DisraeU indignantly asked, ' to do 'with
the honour of Russia? ' Lord John had indeed a fair
reply. He cotdd say "with justice and good sense that
no settlement was likely to be lasting which simply
forced conditions upon a great Power Uke Russia
"without taking any account of what is considered
among nations to be her honour. But he was not
able to give any satisfactory explanation of his having
approved the conditions in Vienna which he after
wards condemned in Westminster. He explained in
ParUament that he did in the first instance regard
the Austrian propositions as containing the possible
basis of a satisfactory and lasting peace ; but that as
the Govemment would not hear of them he had
rejected them against his own judgment ; and that
he had afterwards been converted to the opinion of
his coUeagues and believed them inadmissible in prin
ciple. This was a sort of explanation more Ukely to
alarm than to reassure the pubUc. What manner of
danger, it was asked on aU sides, may we not be
placed in when our representatives do not know their
o"wn minds as to proper terms of peace ; when they
have no opinion of their o"wn upon the subject, but
are loud in approval of certain conditions one day
which they are equally loud in condemning the next ?
There was a general impression throughout England

334 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn.xxTiir.
that some of our statesmen in office had never been
sincerely in favour of the war from the first ; that
even stUl they were cold, doubtful, and half-hearted
about it, and that the honour of the country was not
safe in such hands. The popular instinct, whether it
was right as to facts or not, was perfectly sound as
to inferences. We may honour, in many instances
we must honour, the conscientious scruples of a public
man who distrusts the objects and has no faith in the
results of some war in which his people are engaged.
But such a man has no business in the Government
which has the conduct of the war. The men who are
to carry on a war must have no doubt of its rightful
ness of purpose, and must not be eager to conclude it
on any terms. In the very interests of peace itseK
they must be resolute to carry on the war untU it has
reached the end they sought for.
Lord John RusseU's remaining in office after
these disclosures was practicaUy impossible. Sir E.
B. Lytton gave notice of a direct vote of censure on
' the Minister charged with the negotiations at Vienna,'
But RusseU anticipated the certain effect of a vote in
the House of Commons by resigning his office. This
step at least extricated his coUeagues from any share
in the censure, although the recriminations that passed
on the occasion in Parliament were many and bitter.
The vote of censure was however withdrawn. Sir
WilUam Molesworth, one of the most distinguished
of the school who were since caUed PhUosophical
Radicals, succeeded him as Colonial Secretary; and
the Ministry carried one or two triumphant votes

1855. NAPOLEON'S VISIT TO ENGLAND. 335
against Mr. Disraeli, Mr. Roebuck, and other oppo
nents, or at least unfriendly critics. MeanwhUe the
Emperor of the French and his wKe had paid a visit
to London and had been received with considerable
enthusiasm. The Queen seems to have been very
favourably impressed by the Emperor. She sincerely
admired him, and believed in his desire to maintain
peace as far as possible, and to do his best for the pro
motion of Uberal principles and sound economic doc
trines throughout Europe. The beauty and grace of
the Empress like-wise gTeatly won over Queen Victoria.
The Prince Consort seems to have been less impressed.
He was indeed a beUever in the sincerity and good
disposition of the Emperor, but he found him strangely
ignorant on most subjects, even the modern poUtical
history of England and France. During the -visit of
the Royal famUy of England to France, and now whUe
the Emperor and Empress were in London, the same
impression appears to have been left on the mind of
the Prince Consort. He also seems to have noticed
a certain barrack-room flavour about the Emperor's
entourage which was not agreeable to his o-wn ideas of
dignity and refinement. The Prince Consort appears
to have judged the Emperor almost exactly as we
know now that Prince Bismarck did then, and as
impartial opinion has judged him everywhere in
Europe since that time.
The operations in the Crimea were renewed -with
some vigour. The English army lost much by the
death of its brave and manly Commander-in-Chief,
Lord Raglan. He was succeeded by General Simpson,

336 A IHSTORY OF OUR O'WN TBIES. ch. xxviii.
who had recently been sent out to the Crimea as
Chief of the Staff, and whose administration during
the short time that he held the command was at
least weU qualified to keep Lord Raglan's memory
green and to prevent the regret for his death from
losing any of its keenness. The French army had
lost its first commander long before — the versatUe,
reckless, brUUant soldier of fortune, St. Arnaud,
whose broken health had from the opening of the
campaign prevented him from displaying any of the
qualities which his earUer career gave men reason to
look for under his command. After St. Amaud's
death the command was transferred for a whUe to
General Canrobert, who, finding himseK hardly equal
to the task, resigned it in favour of General Pelissier.
The Sardinian contingent had arrived and had given
admirable proof of its courage and discipline. On
August 16, 1855, the Russians, under General Li-
prandi, made a desperate effort to raise the siege of
Sebastopol by an attack on the aUied forces. The
attack was skUfuUy planned during the night, and
was made in great strength. The French di-visions
had to bear the principal weight of the attack ; but
the Sardinian contingent also had a prominent place
in the resistance, and bore themselves "with splendid
bravery and success. The attempt of the Russians
was completely foiled ; and aU Northern Italy was
thrown into wUd deUght by the news that the flag of
Piedmont had been carried to -victory over the troops
of one great European Power, and side by side with
those of two others. The unanimous voice of the

1855. BATTLE OF TIIE TCHERNAYA. 337
country now approved and acclaimed the policy of
Cavour, which had been sanctioned only by a very
narrow majority, had been denounced from all sides
as reckless and senseless, and had been carried out in
the face of the most tremendous difficulties. It was
the first great iUustration of Cavour's habitual policy
of blended audacity and cool far-seeing judgment. It
is a curious fact that the suggestion to send Sardinian
troops to the Crimea did not originate in Cavour's
o-wn busy brain. The first thought of it came up in
the mind of a woman, Cavour's niece. The great
statesman was struck with the idea from the moment
when she suggested it. He thought over it deeply,
resolved to adopt it, and carried it to triumphant
success. The repulse of the Tchernaya was a heavy, indeed
a fatal stroke for the Russians. The siege had been
progressing for some time -with considerable acti-vity.
The French had dra-wn their lines nearer and nearer
to the besieged city. The Russians, however, had
also been thro-wing up fresh works, which brought
them nearer to the Unes of the aUies, and sometimes
made the latter seem as K they were the besieged
rather than the besiegers. The Malakoff tower and
the Mamelon battery, in front of it became the scenes
and the objects of constant struggle. The Russians
made desperate night- sorties again and again, and
were always repulsed. On June 7 the English
assaulted the quarries in front of the Redan, and the
French attacked the Mamelon. The attack on both
sides was successful; but it was followed on the 18th
VOL. II. z

338 A HISTORY OF OUR^,WN TBIES. ch. xxvin.
of the same month by a desperate and whoUy unsuc
cessful attack on the Redan and Malakoff batteries.
There was some misapprehension on the side of the
French commander, which led to a lack of precision
and unity in the carrying out of the enterprise, and
it became, therefore, a faUure on the part of both the
alUes. A pompous and exulting address was issued
by Prince Gortschakoff, in which he informed the
Russian army that the enemy had been beaten, driven
back "with enormous loss ; and announced that the
hour was approaching ' when the pride of the eneniy
ynR be lowered, their armies swept from our soU Uke
chaff blo"wn away by the wind.'
On September 5 the Allies made an attack almost
simultaneously upon the Malakoff and the Redan..
It was agreed that as soon as the French had got
possession of the Malakoff the English should attack
the Redan, the hoisting of the French flag on the
former fort to be the signal for our men to move.
The French were brUUantly successful in their part
of the attack, and in a quarter of an hour from the
beginning of the attempt the flag of the Empire was
floating on the parapets. The EngUsh then at once
advanced upon the Redan ; but it was a very different
task from that which the French had had to under
take. The French were near the Malakoff; the
EngUsh were very far away from the Redan. The
distance our soldiers had to traverse left them almost
helplessly exposed to the Russian fire. They stormed
the parapets of the Redan despite aU the difficulties
of their attack ; but they were not able to hold the

1855. EVACUATION OF SEBASTOPOL. 339
place. The attacking party were far too small in
numbers ; reinforcements did not come in time ; the
EngUsh held their own for an hour against odds that
might have seemed overwhelming ; but it was simply
impossible for them to estabUsh themselves in the
Redan, and the remnant of them that could withdraw
had to retreat to the trenches. It was only the old
story of the war. Superb courage and skUl of officers
and men ; outrageously bad generalship. The attack
might have been renewed that day, but the English
Commander-in-Chief, General Simpson, declared with
naivete that the trenches were too crowded for him to do
anything. Thus the attack faUed because there were
too few men, and could not be renewed because there
were too many. The cautious commander resolved
to make another attempt the next morning. But
before the morrow came there was nothing to attack.
The Russians withdrew during the night from the
south side of Sebastopol. A bridge of boats had
been constructed across the bay to connect the north
and the south sides of the city, and across this bridge
Prince Gortschakoff quietly withdrew his troops. The
bombardment kept up by the alUes had been so ter
rible and so close for several days, and their long-
range guns were so entirely superior to anything
possessed by or indeed known to the Russians, that
the defences of the south side were being irreparably
destroyed. The Russian general felt that it would
be impossible for him to hold the city much longer,
and that to remain there was only useless waste of
Ufe. But, as he said in his own despatch, 'it is not
z2

340 A HISTORY OF OUR 0"WN TIMES. cH.xxTnr.
. Sebastopol which we have left to them, but the burn
ing ruins of the to"wn, which we ourselves set fire to,
ha-vins: maintained the honour of the defence in such
a manner that our great grandchUdren may recaU
with, pride the remembrance of it and send it on to
all posterity.' It was some time before the AlUes
could venture to enter the abandoned city. The
arsenals and powder-magazines were exploding, the
flames were bursting out of every pubUc buUding
and every private house. The Russians had made of
Sebastopol another Moscow.
With the close of that long siege, which had lasted
nearly a year, the war may be said to have ended.
The brUUant episode of Kars, its splendid defence and
its final surrender, was brought to its conclusion,
indeed, after the fall of Sebastopol ; but, although it
naturaUy attracted peculiar attention in this country,
it could have no effect on the actual fortunes of such
a war. Kars was defended by Colonel Fenwick WU-
Uams, an EngUsh officer, who had been sent, all too
late, to reorganise the Turkish forces in Armenia
after they had suffered a terrible defeat at the hands
of the Russians. Never probably had a man a more
difficult task than that which fell to the lot of WU
liams. He had to contend against official stupidity,
corruption, delay ; he could^ get nothing done "without
having first to remove whole mountains of obstruc
tion, and to quicken into Ufe and movement an apathy
which seemed Uke that of a paralysed system. He
concentrated his efforts at last upon the defence of
Kars, and he held the place against overwhelming

1855. THE DEFENCE OF KARS. 341
Russian forces, and against an enemy far more appal
ling, starvation itseK, With his Uttle garrison he
repeUed a tremendous attack of the Russian army
under General Moura-vieff, in a battle that lasted
nearly seven hours, and as the result of which the
Russians left on the field more than five thousand
dead. He had to surrender at last to famine; but
the very articles of surrender to which the conqueror
consented became the trophy of WUUams and his
men. The garrison were allowed to leave the place
•with aU the honours of war ; and, ' as a testimony to
the valorous resistance made by the garrison of Kars,
the officers of aU ranks are to keep their swords.'
WUUams and his EngUsh companions. Colonel Lake,
Major Teesdale, Major Thompson, and Dr. Sandwith,
had done as much for the honour of their country
at the close of the war as Butler and Nasmyth
had done at its opening. The curtain of that great
drama rose and feU upon a splendid scene of EngUsh
heroism. The war was virtually over. Austria had been
exerting herseK throughout its progress in the inter
ests of peace, and after the faU of Sebastopol she
made a new effort with greater success. Two of the
belUgerents were indeed now anxious to be out of
the struggle almost on any terms. These were France
and Russia. The new Emperor of Russia was not a
man personally inclined for war; nor had he his
father's overbearing and indomitable temper. He
could not but see that his father had greatly over
rated the mUitary strength and resources of his

342 A HISTORY OF OUR O'WN TIMES, cn. xxTiir.
country. He had accepted the war only as a heritage
of necessary evU -with little hope of any good to come
of it to Russia; and he welcomed any chance of
ending it on fair terms. France, or at least her Em
peror, was all but determined to get back again into
peace. If England had heid out, it is highly probable
that she would have had to do so alone. For this in
deed Lord Palmerston was fuUy prepared as a last
resource, sooner than submit to terms which he con
sidered unsatisfactory. He said so and he meant it.
' I can fancy,' Lord Palmerston -wrote to Lord Claren
don in his bright good-humoured way, ' how I should
be hooted in the House of Commons K I were to get
up and say that we had agreed to an imperfect and
unsatisfactory arrangement. ... I had better before
hand take the ChUtern Hundreds.' Lord Palmerston
however had no occasion to take the ChUtern Hun
dreds ; the Congress of Paris opened on February 26,
1856, and on March 30 the treaty of peace was
signed by the plenipotentiaries of the Great Powers.
Prussia had been admitted to the Congress, which
therefore represented England, France, Austria, Prus
sia, Turkey and Sardinia.
The treaty began by declaring that Kars was to
be restored to the Sultan, and that Sebastopol and all
other places taken by the Allies were to be given
back to Russia. The Sublime Porte was admitted to
participate in aU the advantages of the pubUc law and
system of Europe. The other Powers engaged to
respect the independence and territorial integrity of
Turkey. They guaranteed in common the strict

1850. THE TREATY OF PARIS. 343
observance of that engagement, and announced that
they would in consequence consider any act tending
to a violation of it as a question of general interest.
The Sultan issued a firman for, ameUorating the con
dition of his Christian subjects, and communicated to
the other Powers -tUe purposes of the firman 'emanating
spontaneously from his sovereign -wiU.' No right of
interference, it was distinctly specified, was given to
the other Powers by this concession on the Sultan's
part. The article of the treaty which referred to the
Black Sea is of especial importance. ' The Black Sea
is neutraUsed ; its waters and its ports, thro-wn open
to the mercantUe marine of every nation, are formally
and in perpetuity interdicted to the flag of war either
of the Powers possessing its coasts or of any other
Power, -with the exceptions mentioned in articles four
teen and nineteen.' The exceptions only reserved the
right of each of the Powers to have the same number
of smaU armed vessels in the Black Sea to act as a
sort of maritime poUce and to protect the coasts. The
Sultan and the Emperor engaged to estabUsh and
maintain no mUitary or maritime arsenals in that sea.
The navigation of the Danube was thro-wn open. In
exchange fo;g*the to-wns restored to him, and in order
more fuUy to secure the na-vigation of the Danube, the
Emperor consented to a certain rectification of his
frontier in Bessarabia, the territory ceded by Russia
to be annexed to Moldavia under the suzerainty of
the Porte. Moldavia and WaUachia, continuing under
the suzerainty of the Sultan, were to enjoy all the pri
vUeges , and immunities they already possessed under

344 A HISTORY OF OUR O'WN TIMES, ch. xxTin.
the guarantee of the contracting Powers, but with
no separate right of intervention in their affairs. The
existing position of Ser-via was assured, A conven
tion respecting the DardaneUes and the Bosphorus
was made by all the Powers, By this convention the
Sultan maintained the ancient rule prohibiting ships
of war of foreign Powers from entering the Straits so
long as the Porte is at peace. During time of peace
the Sultan engaged to admit no foreign ships of war
into the Bosphorus or the Dardanelles. The Sultan
reserved to himseK the right as in former times of
delivering firmans of passage for Ught vessels under
the flag of war employed in the service of foreign
Powers, that is to say, of their diplomatic missions. A
separate convention as to the Black Sea between
Russia and Turkey agreed that the contracting parties
should have in that sea six light steam vessels of not
more than 800 tons, and four steam or sailing vessels
of not more than 200 tons each.
Thus the controversies about the Christian pro
vinces, the Straits, and the Black Sea were beUeved to
be settled. The great central business of the Congress,
however, was to assure the independence and the ter
ritorial integrity of Turkey, now admitted to a place
in the famUy of European States. As it did not seem
clear to those most partictUarly concerned in bringing
about this result that the arrangements adopted in
fuU congress had been sufficient to guarantee Turkey
from the enemy they most feared, there was a tripartite
treaty after-wards agreed to between England, France
and Austria. This document bears date in Paria

1856. TIIE TRIPARTITE TREATY. 345
April 15, 1856; by it the contracting parties guaran
teed jointly and severally the independence and in
tegrity of the Ottoman empire, and declared that any
infraction of the general treaty of March 30 would
be considered by them as casus belli. It is probable
that not one of the three contracting parties was quite
sincere in the making of this treaty. It appears to
have been done, at the instigation of Austria, much
less for the sake of Turkey than in order that she
might have some understanding of a special kind -with
some of the Great Powers, and thus avoid the sem
blance of isolation wliich she now especially dreaded,
having Russia to fear on the one side, and seeing
Italy already raising its head on the other. England
did not particularly care about the tripartite treaty,
which was pressed upon her, and which she accepted
trusting that she might never have to act upon it ;
and France accepted it -without any liking for it,
probably -without the least intention of ever acting
on it. The Congress was also the means of bringing
about a treaty between England and France and
Sweden. By this engagement Sweden undertook not
to cede to Russia any part of her present territories
or any rights of fishery ; and the two other Powers
agreed to maintain Sweden by force against aggres
sion. The Congress of Paris was remarkable too for the
fact that the plenipotentiaries before separating came
to an agreement on the subject of the right of search,
and the rules generaUy of maritime war. They agreed

346 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TBIES. en. xxvnr.
to the four foUo-wing declarations. ' First : privateering
is and remains abolished. Second : the neutral flas:
covers enemies' goods, with the exception of contra
band of war. Third : neutral goods, -wdth the excep
tion of contraband of war, are not Uable to capture
under an enemy's flag. Fourth : blockades in order
to be binding must be effective ; that is to say, main
tained by a force sufficient really to prevent access to
the enemy's coast.' At the opening" of .the war
Great Britain had already virtuaUy given up the
claims she once made against neutrals, and which
were indeed untenable in the face of modem civiUsa-
tion. She gladly agreed therefore to ratUy so far as
her declaration went the doctrines which would abo-
Ush for ever the principle upon which those and kin
dred claims once rested. It was agreed, however,
that the rules adopted at the Congress of Paris should
only be binding on those States that had acceded or
should accede to them. The Government of the
United States had pre-viously invited the great Euro
pean Powers by a circular to assent to the broad doc
trine that free ships make free goods. At the instance
of England it was answered that the adoption of that
doctrine must be conditional on America's renouncing
the right of privateering. To this the United States
raised some difficulty, and the declarations of the Con
gress were therefore made -without America's assent
ing to them.
With many other questions too, the Congress of
Paris occupied itseK. At the instigation of Count
Cavour the condition of Italy was brought under its

1850. THE DANUBIAN PRINCIPALITIES. 347
notice; and there can be no doubt that out of the
Congress and the part that Sardinia assumed as re
presentative of ItaUan nationaUty came the great suc
cession of events which ended in the estabUshment of
a King of Italy in the palace of the Quirinal. The
adjustment of the condition of the Danubian princi
paUties too engaged much attention and discussion,
and a highly ingenious arrangement was devised for
the purpose of keeping those pro-vinces from actual
union, so that they might be coherent enough to act
as a rampart against Russia, -without being so cohe
rent as to cause Austria any alarm for her O'wn some
what disjointed, not to say distracted, political system.
All these artificial and complex arrangements pre
sently fell to pieces, and the PrincipaUties became in
course of no very long time an independent State
under a hereditary prince. But for the hour it was
hoped that the independence of Turkey and the re
striction of Russia, the security of the Christian pro
vinces, the neutraUty of the Black Sea, and the
closing of the Straits against war vessels, had been
bought by the war.
England lost some twenty -four thousand men in
the war ; of whom hardly a sixth fell in battle or died
of wounds. Cholera and other diseases gave grim
account of the rest. Forty-one millions of money
were added by the campaign to the National Debt.
Not much, it -wUl be seen, was there in the way of
mere mUitary glory to show for the cost. Our fleets
had hardly any chance of making their power felt.
The ships of the AlUes took Bomarsund in the Baltic,

348 A IHSTORY OF OUR 0"WN TBIES. cn. xivm.
and Kinburn in the Black Sea, and bombarded seve
ral places; but the war was not one that gave a
chance to a Nelson, even K a Nelson had been at hand.
Among the accidental and unpleasant consequences of
the campaign it is worth mentioning the quarrel in
which England became involved "with the United
States because of our Foreign EnUstment Act. At the
close of December, 1854, ParUament hurriedly passed
an Act authorising the formation of a Foreign Legion
for ser"vice in the war, and some Swiss and Germans
were recruited who never proved of the sUghtest ser
vice. Prussia and America both complained that the
zeal of our recruiting functionaries outran the Umits
of discretion and of law. One of our consuls was
actuaUy put on trial at Cologne ; and America made a
serious complaint of the enlistment of her citizens.
England apologised ; but the United States were out
of temper, and insisted on sending our minister, Mr.
Crampton, away from Washington, and some Uttle
time passed before the friendly relations of the two
States were completely restored.
So the Crimean War ended. It was one of the
unlucky accidents of the hour that the curtain feU in
the Crimea upon what may be considered a check to
the arms of England. There were not a few in this
country who would gladly have seen the peace nego
tiations faU, in order that England might thereby
have an opportunity of reasserting her miUtary supre
macy in the eyes of Europe. Never during the cam
paign, nor for a long time before it, had England
been in so excellent a condition for war, as she was

1856. THE LESSONS OF THE WAR. 349
when the warlike operations suddenly came to an
end. The campaign had indeed only been a training
time for us after the unner"ving relaxation of a long
peace. We had learned some severe lessons from
it ; and not unnaturally there were impatient spirits
who chafed at the idea of England's ha"ving no
opportunity of putting these lessons to account. It
was but a mere chance that prevented us from ac-
compUshing the capture of the Redan, despite the
very serious disadvantages "with which we were
hampered in our enterprise as compared "with our
aUies and their simultaneous operation. With just a
Uttle better generalship the Redan would have been
taken ; as it was, even "with the generalship that we
had the next attempt would not have been likely to
faU. But the Russians abandoned Sebastopol, and
our principal aUy was even more anxious for peace
than the enemy ; and we had no choice but to accept
the situation. The war had never been popular in
France. It had never had even that amount of popu
larity which the French people accorded to their
Emperor's later enterprise, the campaign against
Austria. Louis Napoleon had had aU he wanted. He
had been received into the society of European sove
reigns, and he had made what the French pubUc were
taught to consider a brUUant campaign. It is sur
prising to anyone who looks calmly back now on the
history of the Crimean War to find what an extrava
gant amount of credit the French army obtained by
its share in the operations. Even in this country it
was at the time an almost universal opinion that the

350 A HISTORY OF OUR 0"WN TBIES. cn.xxTiir.
French succeeded in everything they tried ; that their
system was perfect ; that their tactics were beyond
improvement; that they were a contrast to us in
every respect. Much of this absurd delusion was no
doubt the result of a condition of things among us
which no reasonable Englishman would exchange for
all the imaginary triumphs that a court historiogra--
pher ever celebrated. It was due to the fact that
our system was open to the criticism of every peu
that chose to assaU it. Not a spot in our mUi
tary organisation escaped detection and exposure.
Every detaU was keenly criticised; every weakness
was laid open to public observation. We invited aU
the world to see where we were faUing, and what were
the causes of our failure. Our journals did the work
for the mUitary system of England that Matthew
Arnold says Goethe did for the poUtical and social
systems of Europe — struck its finger upon the weak
places, ' and said thou aUest here and here.' WhUe
the official and officious journals of the French
empire were sounding paeans to the honour of the
Emperor and his successes, to his generals, his officers,
his commissariat, his transport ser-vice, his soldiers,
his camp, pioneers and aU ; our leading papers of all
shades of poUtics were only occupied in pointing out
defects, and blaming those who did not instantly
remedy them. Unpatriotic conduct, it may be said.
Ay, truly, K the conduct of the doctor be unfriendly
when he tells that we have the symptoms of failing
health, and warns us to take some measures for rest
and renovation. Some of the criticisms of the Eng-

1850. THE RESULTS OF THE WAR. 351
lish press were undoubtedly inaccurate and rash. But
their general effect [was bracing, healthful, successful.
Their immediate result was that which has already
been indicated, to leave the English army at the close
of the campaign far better able to undertake pro
longed and serious operations of war than it had been
at any time during the campaign's continuance. For
the effect of the French system on the French army
we should have to come down a little later in history
and study the workings of Imperialism as they dis
played themselves in the confidence, the surprises,
and the coUapse of 1870.
StUl there was a feeling of disappointment in this
country at the close of the war. This was partly
due to dissatisfaction with the manner in which we
had carried on the campaign, and partly to distrust
of its poUtical results. Our soldiers had done splen
didly; but our generals and our system had done
poorly indeed. Only one first-class reputation of a
miUtary order had come out of the war, and that was
by the common consent of the world awarded to a
Russian — to General Todleben, the defender of Sebas
topol. No new name was made on our side or on
that of the French; and some promising or tradi
tional reputations were shattered. The political
results of the war were to many minds equally
unsatisfying. We had gone into the enteqorise for
two things — ^to restrain the aggressive and aggran
dising spirit of Russia, and to secure the integrity
and independence of Turkey as a Power capable of
upholding herseK -with credit among the States of

352 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TBIES. cn. xxvnr.
Europe. Events which happened more than twenty
years later wUl have to be studied before anyone can
form a satisfactory opimon as to the degree of success
which attended each of these objects. For the pre
sent it is enough to say that there was not among
thoughtful minds at the time a very strong con-vic-
tion of success either way. Lord Aberdeen had been
modest in his estimate of what the war would do.
He had never had any heart in it, and he was not
disposed to exaggerate its beneficent possibUities. He
estimated that it might perhaps secure peace in the
East of Europe for some twenty-five years. His
modest expectation was prophetic. Indeed, it a Uttle
overshot the mark. Twenty-two years after the close
of the Crimean campaign Russia and Turkey were at
war again.

353

CHAPTER XXIX.
THE LITEEATUEE OF THE EEIGN. FIEST SUEVEY.
The close of the Crimean War is a great landmark in
the reign of Queen Victoria. This, therefore, is a con
venient opportunity to cast a glance back upon the
literary achievements of a period so markedly di-vided
in political interest from any that went before it. The
reign of Queen Victoria is the first in which the consti
tutional and Parliamentary system of government came
fairly and completely into recognition. It is also the
reign which had the good fortune to "wdtness the great
modern development in all that relates to practical
invention, and more especially in the appUcation of
science to the work of making commumcation rapid
between men. On land and ocean, in air and under
the sea, the history of rapid travel and rapid inter
change of message coincides with that of the present
reign. Such a reign ought to have a distinctive
Uterature. So in truth it has. Of course it is
somewhat bold to predict long and distinct renown
for contemporaries or contemporary schools. But it
may perhaps be assumed "without any undue amount
of speculative venturesomeness that the age of Queen
Victoria wUl stand out in history as the period of a
literature as distinct from others as the age of Eliza-
VOL. II. - A A

354 A HISTORY OF OUR 0"WN TIMES. ch. xxix.
beth or Anne, although not perhaps equal in great
ness to the latter, and far indeed below the former.
At the opening of Queen Victoria's reign a great race of
literary men had come to a close. It is curious to note
how sharply and completely the literature of Victoria
separates itseK from that of the era whose heroes were
Scott, Byron, and Wordsworth. Before Queen Vic
toria came to the throne, Scott, Byron, Coleridge, and
Keats were dead. Wordsworth lived, indeed, for
many years after; so did Southey and Moore; and
Savage Landor died much later stUl. But Words
worth, Southey, Moore, and Landor had completed
their literary work before Victoria came to the throne.
Not one of them added a cubit or an inch to his in
teUectual stature from that time ; some of them even
did work which distinctly proved that their day was
done. A new and fresh breath was soon after
breathed into literature. Nothing, perhaps, is more
remarkable about the better literature of the age of
Queen Victoria than its complete severance from the
leadership of that which had gone before it, and its
evidence of a fresh and genuine inspiration. It
is a somewhat curious fact, too, very convenient for
the purposes of this history, that the literature of
Queen Victoria's time thus far divides itseK clearly
enough into two parts. The poets, noveUsts, and
historians who were making their fame 'with the
beginning of the reign had done aU their best work
and made their mark before these later years, and
were foUowed by a new and different school, drawing
inspiration from wholly different sources, and chal-

BREWSTER, FARADAY, HERSCHEL. 355
lenging comparison as antagonists rather than dis
ciples. We speak now only of Uterature. In science
the most remarkable developments were reserved for
the later years of the reign. We use the words
' remarkable developments ' in the historical rather
than in the scientific sense. It would be hardly
possible to overrate the benefits conferred upon
science and the world by some of the scientific
men who made the best part of their fame in the
earUer years of the reign. Some great names at once
start to the memory. We think of Brewster, the
experimental phUosopher, who combined- in so extra
ordinary a degree the strictest severity of scientific
argument and form "with a freedom of fancy and
imagination which lent picturesqueness to aU his
Ulustrations and invested his later writings especially
"with an indefinable charm. We think of Michael
Faraday, the chemist and electrician, who knew so
well how to reconcUe the boldest researches into the
heights and deeps of science -with the sincerest spirit
of faith and devotion ; the memory of whoSe dehght
ful impro"visations on the science he loved to expound
must remain for ever "with aU who had the privUege
of hearing the unrivalled lecturer deliver his annual
discourses at the Royal Institution. It is not likely
that the name of Sir John Herschel, a gifted member
of a gKted famUy, would be forgotten by anyone
taking even the hastiest glance at the science of our
time — a famUy of whom it may truly be said, as the
German prose-poet says of his dreaming hero, that
A A 2

356 A HISTORY OF OUR 0"WN TBIES. ch. xxix.
their eyes were among the stars and their souls in the
blue ether. Richard Owen's is, in another field of
knowledge, a great reno"wn. Owen has been called
the Cuvier of England and the Newton of natural
history, and there cannot be any doubt that his
researches and discoveries as an anatomist and palas-
ontologist have marked a distinct era in the develop
ment of the study to which he devoted himseK.
Hugh MUler, the author of ' The Old Red Sand-
stone ' and ' The Testimony of the Rocks,' the devo
tee and unfortunately the martyr of scientific inquiry,
brought a fresh and brUUant literary ability, almost
as untutored and spontaneous as that of his immortal
countryman, Robert Burns, to bear on the exposition
of the studies to which he Uterally sacrificed his life.
If, therefore, we say that the later period of Queen
Victoria's reign is more remarkable in science than
the former, it is not because we would assert that the
men of this later day contributed in richer measure to
the development of human knowledge, and especially
of practical science, than those of the earUer time.
But it was in the later period that the scientific con
troversies sprang up and the school arose which 'will
be, in the historian's sense, most closely associated
'with the epoch. The value of the labours of men like
Owen and Faraday and Brewster is often to be appre
ciated thoroughly by scientific students alone. What
they have done is to be recorded in the history of
science rather than in the general and popular history
of a day. But the school of scientific thought which
Darwin founded and in which Huxley and TyndaU

SCIENCE AND CONTROVERSY. 357
taught, is the subject of a controversy which may be
set do-wn as memorable in the history of the world.
All science and all common IKe accepted with grati
tude and -without contest the contributions made to
our knowledge by Faraday and Brewster ; but the
theories of Dar-win divided the scientific world, the
reUgious world, and indeed all society, into two
hostUe camps, and so became an event in history
which the historian can no more pass over than, in
telling of the gro-wth of the United States, he could
omit any mention of the great Ci'vU War. Even in
dealing "with the gro'wth of science it is on the story
of battles that the attention of the outer world must
to the end of time be turned with the keenest interest.
This is, one might almost think, a scientific law in
itseK, with which it would be waste of time to quarrel.
The earlier part of the reign was richer in literary
genius than the later has thus far been. Of course
the di'viding Une which we draw is loosely drawn, and
may sometimes appear to be capricious. Some of
those who won their fame in the earUer part continued
active workers, in certain instances steadUy adding to
their celebrity, through the succeeding years. The
figure of Thomas Carlyle is famUiar stUl to all who
live in the neighbourhood of Chelsea. It was late in
the reign of Victoria that Stuart MUl came out for the
first time on a public platform in London after a Ufe
di-vided between official work and the most various
reading and study ; a Ufe di"vided too between the se
clusion of Blackheath and the more poetic seclusion of
Avignon, among the nightingales whose song was

358 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. ch.xxii.
afterwards so sweet to his dying ears. He came, strange
and shy, into a world which knew him only in his
books, and to which the gentle and grave demeanour
of the shrinking and worn recluse seemed out of
keeping with the fearless brain and heart which his
career as a thinker proved him to have. The reign
had run for forty years when Harriet Martineau was
taken from that beautKul and romantic home in the
bosom of the Lake country to which her celebrity had
drawn so many famous visitors for so long a time.
The renown of Dickens began -with the reign, and his
death was sadly premature when he died in his quaint
and charming home at Gad's HUl, in the country of
Falstaff and Prince Hal, some thirty- three years after.
Mrs. Browning passed away very prematurely; but
it might weU be contended that the fame, or at least
the popularity, of Robert Bro-wning belongs to this
later part of the reign even though his greatest work
belongs to the earlier. The author of the most briUiant
and vivid book of travel known in our modern EngUsh,
' Eothen,' made a sudden renown in the earlier part
of the reign, and achieved a new and a different sort
of repute as the historian of the Crimean "War during
the later part. Still, K we take the close of the Cri
mean War as an event di'viding the reign thus far into
two parts, we shaU find that there does seem a toler
ably clear division between the Uterature of the two
periods. We have therefore put in this first part of
our history the men and women who had distinctly
made their mark in these former years, and who would
have been famous K from that time out they had done

1704-187L GEORGE GROTE. 359
nothing more. It is "with this division borne in mind
that we describe the reign as more remarkable in the
Uterature of the earlier and in the science of these later
years. It is not rash to say that, although poets, his
torians and novelists of celebrity came afterwards and
may come yet, the Uterature of our time gave its
measure, as the French phrase is, in that earUer period.
Alike in its earlier passages and in its later the
reign is rich in historical labours. The names of
Grote, Macaulay and Carlyle occur at once to the mind
when we survey the former period. Mr. Grote's his
tory of Greece is indeed a monumental piece of work.
It has aU that patience and exhaustive care which
principaUy mark the German historians, and it has an
earnestness which is not to be found generaUy in the
representatives of -what Carlyle has called the Dryas
dust school. Grote threw himseK completely into the
IKe and the poUtics of Athens. It was said of him -with
some truth that he entered so thoroughly into all the
poUtical Ufe of Greece as to become now and then the
partisan of this or that pubUc man. His o-wn prac
tical acquaintance "with politics was undoubtedly of
great service to him. We have aU grown somewhat
tired of hearing the words of Gibbon quoted in which
he teUs us that 'the discipline and evolutions of a
modem battalion gave me a clearer notion of the pha
lanx and the legion ; and the captain of the Hamp
shire Grenadiers (the reader may smUe) has not been
useless to the historian of the Roman Empire.' As
suredly the practical knowledge of politics which
Grote acquired during the nine or ten years of his

360 A IHSTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xxii.
ParUamentary career was of much service to the his
torian of Greece. It has been said indeed of him that
he never could quite keep from regarding the struggles
of parties in Athens as exactly Ulustrating the prin
ciples disputed between the Liberals and the Tories
in England. It does not seem to us, however, that
his poUtical career affected his historical studies in
any way, but by thro-wing greater vitality and ner
vousness into his descriptions of Athenian contro
versies. The difference between a man who has
mingled anywhere in the active Ufe of poUtics, and
one who only knows that life from books and the
talk of others, is specially likely to show itseK in such
a study as Grote's history. His poUtical training en
abled Grote to see in the statesmen and soldiers of the
Greek peoples men and not trees walking. It taught
him how to make the dry bones Uve. Mr. Grote
began Ufe as what would have been called in later
years a PhUosophical Radical. He was a close friend
of Stuart Mill, although he did not always agree "with
MUl in his opinions. During his ParUamentary career
he devoted himself for the most part to the advocacy
of the system of vote by baUot. He brought forward
a motion on the subject every session as Mr. Charles
VUUers did at one tune for the repeal of the Com
Laws. He only gave up the House of Commons in
order that he might be free to complete his great his
tory. He did not retain aU his radical opinions to
the end of his Ufe so thoroughly as MiU did, but owned
with a certain regret that in many ways his views had
undergone modification, and that he grew less and less

1800-1859. MACAULAY. 361
ardent for poUtical change, less hopeful, we may sup
pose, of the amount of good to be done for human
happiness and virtue by the spread and movement of
what are now called advanced opinions. It must be
owned that it takes a very vigorous and elastic mind
to enable a man to resist the gro"wth of that natural
and physical tendency towards conservatism or reac
tion which comes with advancing years. It is as well
for society on the whole that this should be so, and
that the elders as a rule should form themselves into a
guard to challenge very pertinaciously all the eager
claims and demands for change made by hopeful and
restless youth. No one would more readily have ad
mitted the advantage that may come from this common
law of life than Grote's friend, MUl; although MUl
remained to the close of his career as full of hope in
the movement of liberal opinions as he had been in his
boyhood ; stUl, to quote from some noble words of
Schiller, 'reverencing as a man the dreams of his
youth,' In his later years Grote "withdrew from all
connection with active political controversy, and was
indeed curiously ignorant of the very bearings of
some of the greatest questions around the settlement
of which the passions and interests of another hemi
sphere were brought into fierce and vast dispute.
We have already had occasion more than once to
speak of Macaulay, the great Parliamentary debater
and statesman. It is the less necessary to say much
of him as an historian ; for Macaulay wUl be remem
bered rather as a man who could do many things
brUUantly than as the author of a history. Yet

362 A IHSTORY OF OUR 0"WN TIMES, cn, xxix.
Macaulay's ' History of England,' whatever its defects,
is surely entitled to rank as a great work. We do
not know whether grave scholars wUl regard it as to
the honour of the book or the reverse, that it was by
far the most popular historical essay ever produced
by an Englishman. The successive volumes of Mac
aulay's ' History of England,' were ran after as the
Waverley Novels might have been at the zenith of
their author's fame. Li"ving England talked for the
time of nothing but Macaulay's ' England.' Certainly
history had never before in our country been treated
in a style so well calculated to render it at once
popular, fascinating, and fashionable. Every chapter
glittered with vivid and highly coloured description.
On almost every page was found some sentence of
glowing eloquence or gleaming antithesis, which at
once lent itseK to citation and repetition. Not one
word of it could have faUed to convey its meaning.
The whole stood out in. an atmosphere clear, bright,
and incapable of misty Ulusion as that of a S-wiss lake
in summer. No shade or faint haze of a doubt appeared
anywhere. The admirer of Macaulay had aU the com
fort in his studies that a votary of the Roman CathoUc
Church may have. He had an infalUble guide. He
had no need to vex himseK -with doubt, speculation,
or even conjecture. This absolute certainty about
everything was, beyond question, one great source
of Macaulay's popularity. That resolute conviction
which readers of a more inteUectual class are espe
cially inclined to distrust has the same charm for the
ordinary reader that it has for chUdren, who never

'SURE ABOUT EVERYTHING.' 363
care to hear any story K they suppose the narrator
does not know aU about it in such a way as to render
question or contradiction impossible. But although
this was one of the causes of Macaulay's popularity, it
was not the most substantial cause. The brUliancy
of his style, the variety and aptness of his Ulustra
tions, and the animated manner in which he contrived
to set his ideas of men, places, and events before the
reader — these were among the sources of success to
which his admirers must look -with the greatest satis
faction. It is of late somewhat the fashion to dis
parage Macaulay. He was a popular idol so long
that in the natural course of things it has come to
him to have his title to worship, or even to faith, very
generally questioned. To be um-easonably admired
by one generation is to incur the certainty of being
unreasonably disparaged by the next. The tendency
of late is to assume that because Macaulay was bril
liant he must necessarUy be superficial. But Mac-
atday was not superficial. He was dogmatic ; he
was full of prejudice ; he was in all respects a better
advocate than judge ; he was wanting in the calm
impartial balancing faculty which an historian of the
highest class ought to have ; but he was not super
ficial. No man could make out a better and stronger
case for any side of a controversy which he was led to
espouse. He was not good at dra-wing or explain
ing complex characters. He loved indeed to picture
contradictory and paradoxical characters. Nothing
deUghted him more than to throw off an animated
description of some great person, who ha'ving been

364 A HISTORY OF OUR Q-WN TIMES. cn, xxix.
sho-wn in the first instance to possess one set of qua
lities in extreme prominence, was then shown to have
a set of exactly antagonistic qualities in quite equal
prominence. This was not describing a complex cha
racter. It was merely embodying a paradox. It was
to ' solder close,' as Timon of Athens says, ' impos-
sibUities and make them kiss.' There was something
too much of trick about this, although it was often
done -with so much power as to bewUder the better
judgment of the calmest reader. But where Macaulay
happened to be right in his -view of a man or an event,
he made his con-victions clear -with an impressiveness
and a brUliancy such as no modern writer has sur
passed. The world owes him something for having
protested by precept and example against the absurd
notion that the ' dignity of history ' required of his
torians to be grave, pompous, and dull. He was
not a Gibbon, but ^ he wrote -with all Gibbon's deUght
in the picturesqueness of a subject, and Gibbon's
resolve to fascinate as well as to instruct his readers.
Macaulay's history tries too much to be an historical
portrait gaUery. The dangers of such a style do
not need to be pointed out. They are amply Ulus
trated in Macaulay's sparkling pages. But it is some
thing to know that their splendid quaUties are far
more conspicuous stUl than their defects. Perhaps
very recent readers of history too may feel disposed
to be grateful to Macaulay for having -written -without
any profound phUosophical theory to expound. He
told history Uke a story. He warmed up as he went
along, and grew enamoured, as a romancist does, of

MACAULAY'S VERSATILITY. 365
this character* and angry with that other. No doubt
he frequently thus did harm to the trustworthiness of
his narrative where it had to deal -with disputed ques
tions, although he probably enhanced the charms of
his animated style. But he did not set out -with a
mission to expound some theory as to a race or a
tendency, and therefore pledged beforehand to bend
aU facts of the physical, the political, and the moral
world to the duty of bearing -witness for him and
proclaiming the truth of his message to mankind.
Macaulay was not exactly what the Germans
would call a many-sided man. He never was any
thing but the one Macaulay in all he did or attempted.
But he did a great many things weU. Nothing that
he ever attempted was done badly. He was as suc
cessful in the composition of a pretty valentine for a
Uttle girl as he was in his history, his essays, his ' Lays
of Ancient Rome,' and his Parliamentary speeches. In
everything he attempted he went very near to that
success which true genius achieves. In everything he
just fell short of that achievement. But he so nearly
attained it that the reader who takes up one of Macau
lay's books or speeches for the first time is almost sure
to believe, under the influence of the instant impres
sion, that the genuine inspiration is there. Macaulay
is understood to have for a long time thought of
writing a romance. If he had done so, we may feel
sure that many intelligent readers would have believed
on the first perusal of it that it was almost on a level
¦with Scott, and only as the first impression gradually
faded, and they came to read it over again, have found

366 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. ch.xxix.
out that Macaulay was not a Scott in fiction any
more than he was a Burke in eloquence or a Gibbon
in history. He fiUed for a long time a larger space
in the pubUc mind than any other Uterary man in
England, and his style greatly affected literary men.
But his inflttence did not pierce deeply do-wn into
pubUc feeling and thought as that of one or two other
men of the same period undoubtedly did, and does
stUl. He did liot impress the very soul of English
feeling as Mr. Carlyle, for example, has done.
No influence suffused the age from first to last
more strongly than that of Thomas Carlyle. Eng
land's very way of thinking was at one time pro
foundly affected by Carlyle. He introduced the
EngUsh people to the great German authors, very
much as Lessing had introduced the Germans to
Shakespeare and the old EngUsh baUads. Carlyle
wrote in a style which was so little Uke that ordi
narily accepted as English, that the best thing to be
said for it was that it was not exactly German. At
one time it appeared to be so completely moulded on
that of Jean Paul Richter, that not a few persons
doubted whether the new comer reaUy had any ideas
of his o"wn. But Carlyle soon proved that he could
think for himself; and he very often proved it by
thinking wrong. There was in him a strong, deep
vein of the poetic. Long after he had evidently
settled do-wn to be a writer of prose and nothing else,
it stUl seemed to many that his true sphere was
poetry. The grim seriousness which he had taken
from his Scottish birth and belongings was made

THOMAS CARLYLE. 367
hardly less grim by the irony which continually
gleamed or scowled through it. Truth and force
were the deities of Caiiyle's especial worship. ' The
etemal verities ' sat on the top of his Olympus. To
act out the truth in life, and make others act it out,
would require some force more strong, ubiquitous
and penetrating than we can weU obtain from the
slow deUberations of an ordinary ParUament, with
its debates and divisions and everlasting formulas.
Therefore, to enforce his eternal verities, Carlyle
always preached up and yearned for the strong man,
the poem in action, whom the world in our day
had not found, and perhaps could not appreciate. If
this man were found, it would be his duty and his
pri-vUege to drUl us aU as in some vast camp, and
compel us to do the right thing to his dictation. It
cannot be doubted that this preaching of the divine
right of force had a serious and sometimes a very de
trimental effect upon the public opinion of England.
It degenerated often into affectation, alike -with the
teacher and the disciples. But the influence of Car
lyle in preaching earnestness and truth, in art and
letters and everything else, had a healthy and very
remarkable effect entUely outside the regions of the
moraUst, who in this country at least has. always
taught the same lesson. It is not probable that indi
vidual men were made much more truthful in England
by Carlyle's glorification of the eternal verities than
they would have been without it. But his influence on
letters and art was peculiar, and was not evanescent.
Carlyle is distinctly the founder of a school of history

368 A IHSTORY OF OUR OWN TBIES. ch. xxix.
and a school of art. In the meanwhile we may re
gard him simply as a great author, and treat his books
as literary studies and not as gospels. Thus regarded,
we shall find that he -writes in a style which every
sober critic would feel bound to condemn, but which
nevertheless the soberest critic is forced continuaUy,
despite of himseK and his rules, to admire. For out of
the strange jargon which he seems to have delibe
rately adopted, Carlyle has undoubtedly constructed
a wonderfuUy expressive medium in which to speak
his words of remonstrance and admonition. It is a
mannerism, but a mannerism into which a great deal
of the individuaUty of the man seems to have entered.
It is not whoUy affectation or superficiaUty. Carlyle's
own soul seems to speak out in it more freely and
strenuously than it would in the ordinary English
of society and Uterature. No tongue, says Richter,
is eloquent save in its own language ; and this
strange language which he has made for himself does
reaUy appear to be the native tongue of Carlyle's
powerful and melancholy eloquence. Carlyle is en
dowed with a marveUous power of depicting stormy
scenes and rugged daring natures. At times strange
-wUd piercing notes of the pathetic are heard through
his strenuous and fierce bursts of eloquence Uke the
wail of a clarion thrUling between the blasts of a
storm. His history of the French Revolution is his
tory read by lightning. Of this remarkable book
John Stuart MUl supplied the principal material ; for
Mill at one time thought of writing a history of the
Revolution himself, but, giving up the idea, placed the

1837. CARLYLE AS AN IHSTORIAN. 369
materials he had coUected at the service of Carlyle.
Carlyle used the materials in his own way. He is
indebted to no one for his method of making up his
history. With aU its defects the book is one of
the very finest our age has produced. Its characters
stand out like portraits by Rembrandt. Its crowds
Uve and move. The picture of Mirabeau is worthy of
the hand of the great German poet who gave us Wal-
lenstein. But Carlyle's style has introduced into this
country a thoroughly false method of writing history.
It is a method which has little regard for the ' dry
Ught ' which Bacon approved. It works under the
varying glare of coloured lights. Its purpose is to
express scorn of one set of ideas and men, and admi
ration of another. Given the man we admire, then
aU his doings and ways must be admirable ; and the
historian proceeds to work this principle out. Car
lyle's Mirabeau is as truly a creature of romance as
the Monte Christo of Dumas. This way of going to
work became even more apparent, as the mannerisms
became more incessant, in Carlyle's later -writings — in
the 'Frederick the Great,' for example. The reader
dares not trust such history. It is of little value as
an instructor in the lessons of the times and events it
deals -with, * It only tells us what Carlyle thought of
the times and the events, and the men who were the
chief actors in them. Nor does Carlyle bequeath
many new ideas to the world which he stirred by his
stormy eloquence. That falsehood cannot prevaU
over truth in the end, nor simulacra do the work of
realities, is not after aU a lesson which earth can be
VOL, II. B B

370 A HISTORY OF OUR 0"WN TIMES, ch, xxix.
said to have waited for up to the nineteenth century
and the coming of Carlyle ; and yet it would be hard
to point to any other phUosophical outcome of Mr.
Carlyle's teaching. His value is in his eloquence, his
power, his passion, and pathos ; his stirring and Ufe-
Uke pictures of human character, whether faithful to
the historical originals or not ; and the vein of poetry
which runs through aU his best -writings, and some
times makes even the least sympathetic reader beUeve
that he has to do "with a genuine poet.
In strongest contrast to the influence of Carlyle may
be set the influence of MUl. Except where the pro
fessed teachers of reUgious creeds are concerned, there
can be found no other man in the reign of Victoria
who had anything like the influence over EngUsh
thought that MiU and Carlyle possessed. MUl was a
devoted beUever in the possibUities of human nature
and of Uberty. If Rousseau was the apostle of afflic
tion, MUl was surely the apostle of freedom. He
believed that human society might be brought to some
thing not far removed from perfection by the influ
ence of education and of freedom acting on the best
impulses and disciplining the emotions of men and
women. MUl was a strange blending of poUtical
economist and sentimentaUst. It was not altogether
in humorous exaggeration that somebody said he
was Adam Smith and Petrarch in one. The curious
seclusion in which he was brought up by his father,
the wonderful discipline of study to which in his very
infancy he was subjected, would have made something
strange and striking out of a commonplace nature;

lSOe-1873. JOHN STUART MILL. 371
and MiU was in any case a man of genius. There
was an antique simpUcity and purity about his IKe
which removed him altogether from the ways of or
dinary society. But the defect of his teaching as an
ethical guide was that he made too Uttle aUowance for
the influence of ordinary society. He always seemed
to act on the principle that with trae education and
noble example the most commonplace men could be
persuaded to act Ulce heroes, and to act lUce heroes
always. The great ser-vice which he rendered to the
worldin his PoUtical Economy and his System of Logic
is of course independent of his controverted theories
and teachings. These works would, K they were aU
he had written, place him in the very front rank of
EngUsh thinlcers and instructors. But these only
represent haK of his influence on the pubUc opinion
of his time. His faith in the principle of human
Uberty led him to originate the movement for what
is caUed the emancipation of women. Opinions -wUl
doubtless long differ as to the advantages of the
movement, but there can be no possible difference of
judgment as to the power and fascination of MUl's
advocacy and the influence he exercised. He did not
succeed in his admirable essay ' On Liberty ' in esta
blishing the rule or principle by which men may de
cide between the right of free expression of opinion
and the right of authority to ordain sUence. Probably
no precise boundary line can ever be drawn; and in this,
as in so much else, la-wmakers and peoples must be
content with a compromise. But Mill's is at least a
noble plea for the fullest possible Uberty of utterance ;
B B 2

372 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xxii.
and he has probably carried the argument as far as it
ever can be carried. There never was a more lucid
and candid reasoner. The most difficult and abstruse
questions became clear by the light of his luminous
exposition. Something too of human interest and
sympathy became infused into the most seemingly
arid discussions of political economy by the virtue of
his emotional and haK poetic nature. It was weU
said of him that he reconcUed poUtical economy -with
human feeling. His style was clear as Ught. MiU,
said one of his critics, Uves in light. Sometimes his
language rose to a noble and dignified eloquence ;.
here and there are passages of a grave, keen irony.
Into the questions of religious belief which arise in
connection with his works it is no part of our business
to enter; but it may be remarked that his latest
writings seem to show that his -views were undergoing
much modification in his closing years. His oppo
nents would have aUowed as readUy as his supporters
that no man could have been more sincerely inspired
with a desire to arrive at the truth ; and that none
could be more resolute to follow the course which his
conscience told him to be right. He carried this re
solute principle into his warmest controversies, and it
was often remarked that he usuaUy began by stating
the case of the adversary better than the adversary
could have done it for himself. Applying to his own
character the same truthful method of inquiry which
he applied to others, MUl has given a very accurate
description of one at least of the qualities by which
he was able to accomplish so much. He tells us in

1302-1870. HARRIET MARTINEAU. 373
his Autobiography that he had from an early period
considered that the most useful part he could take in
the domain of thought was that of an interpreter of
original thinkers, and mediator between them and the
public. ' I had always a humble opinion of my O'wn
powers as an original thinker, except in abstract
science (logic, metaphysics and the theoretic principles
of political economy and politics), but thought myself
much superior to most of my contemporaries in -wU-
lingness and abUity to learn from everybody; as I
found hardly anyone who made such a point of ex-
aminUig what was said in defence of aU opinions,
however new or however old, in the conviction that
even K they were errors there might be a substratum
of trath underneath them, and that in any case the
discovery of what it was that made them plausible
would be a benefit to truth.' This was not assuredly
Mill's greatest merit, but it was perhaps his most
pecuUar quality. He was an original thinker, despite
his o-wn sincere disclaimer ; but he founded no new
system. He could be trusted to examine and expound
any system -with the most perfect fairness and can
dour ; and even where it was least in harmony "with
his own ideas to do the fullest justice to every one of
its claims. Harriet Martineau's career as a woman of letters
and a teacher began indeed before the reign of Queen
Victoria, but it was carried on almost -without inter
ruption during nearly forty years of the reign. She
was poUtical economist, novelist, historian, biographer,
and journalist; and in no path did she faU to make

374 A HISTORY OF OLTl OWN TIMES. cn. xxix.
her mark. Few women could have tumed to the
occupations of a poUtical -writer under greater physical
disadvantages ; and no man in this line of Ufe, how
ever well furnished by nature -with physical and intel
lectual qualifications for success, could have done
bettor work. She -wrote some exquisite little stories,
and one or two novels of more ambitious character.
It is praise enough to give them when we say that,
although fiction certainly was not work for which she
was most especially qualified, yet what she did seems
to be destined to live and hold a place in our Utera
ture. She was, so far as we know, the only English
woman who ever achieved distinct and great success
as a -writer of leading articles for a daUy news
paper. Her strong prejudices and disUkes prevent
her from being always regarded as a trustworthy
historian. Her ' History of the Thirty Years'
Peace' — for it may be regarded as wholly hers,
although Charles Knight began it — is a work fuU
of -vigorous thought and clear description, with here
and there passages of genuine eloquence. But it is
marred in its effect as a trustworthy narrative by the
manner in which the authoress yields here and there
to inveterate and wholesale disUkes ; and sometimes,
though not so often or so markedly, to an over
wrought hero-worship. Miss Martineau had to a
great extent an essentiaUy masculine mind. She was
often reproached -with being unfeminine ; and assuredly
she would have been surprised to hear that there was
anything womanish in her way of criticising public
events and men. Yet in reading her ' History '

1780-1872. MARY SOMERVILLE. 375
one is sometimes amused to find that that par
tisanship which is commonly set down as a specially
feminine quaUty affects her estimate of a statesman.
Hers is not by any means the Carlylean way of start
ing -with a theory and finding aU -virtue and glory in
the man who seems to embody it, and aU baseness
and stupidity in his opponents. But when she takes
a disUke to a particular indi-vidual, she seems to
assume that where he was -wrong he must have been
wrong of set maUgn purpose, and that where he
chanced to be in the right it was in mistake, and
in despite of his own greater inclination to be in the
-wrong. It is fortunate that these dislikes are not
many, and also that they soon show themselves, and
therefore cease to be seriously misleading. In all
other respects the book weU deserves careful study.
The Ufe of the woman is a study stUl more deeply
interesting. Others of her sex there were of greater
genius, even in her o-wn time ; but no Englishwoman
ever foUowed -with such perseverance and success a
career of Uterary and political labour,
' The blue-peter has long been flying at my fore
mast, and, now that I am in my ninety- second year,
I must soon expect the signal for sailing.' In this
quaint and cheery way Mary SomerviUe, many years
after the period at which we have now arrived in this
work, described her condition and her quiet waiting
for death. No one surely could have better earned
the right to die by the labours of a long Ufe devoted
to the education and the improvement of her kind.
Mary SomervUle has probably no rival among women

376 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xxii.
as a scientific scholar. Her summary of Laplace's
' Mecanique Celeste,' her treatise on the ' Connection
of the Physical Sciences,' and her ' Physical Geo
graphy,' would suffice to place any student, man or
woman, in the foremost rank of scientific expounders.
The ' Physical Geography' is the only one of Mrs.
Somerville's remarkable works which was published
in the reign of Queen Victoria; but the pubhcation
of the other two preceded the opening of the reign by
so short a time, and her career and her fame so
entirely belong to the Victorian period, that, even if
the ' Physical Geography ' had never been pubUshed,
she must be included in this history. ' I was in
tensely ambitious,' Mrs. SomerviUe says of herseK in
her earlier days, ' to excel in something, for I felt in
my own breast that women were capable of taking
a higher place in creation than that assigned to them
in my early days, which was very low.' It is not
exaggeration to say that Mrs. Somer-viUe distinctly
raised the world's estimate of woman's capacity for
the severest and the loftiest scientific pursuits. She
possessed the most extraordinary power of concentra-^
tion, amounting to an entire absorption in the subject
which she happened to be studying, to the exclusion
of aU disturbing sights and sounds. She had tn a
supreme degree that which Carlyle caUs the first
quality of genius, an immense capacity for taking
trouble. She had also, happUy for herself, an im
mense capacity for finding enjoyment in almost
everything : in new places, people aud thoughts ; in
the old famUiar scenes and friends and associations.

TENNYSON AND BROWNING. 377
Hers was a noble, calm, fuUy-rounded Ufe. She
worked as steadfastly and as eagerly in her scientific
studies as Harriet Martineau did with her economics
and her poUtics ; but she had a more cheery, less
sensitive, less eager and impatient nature than Harriet
Martineau. She was able to pursue her most intri
cate calculations after she had passed her ninetieth
year ; and one of her chief regrets in dying was that
she should not ' live to see the distance of the earth
from the sun determined by the transit of Venus,
and the source of the most reno-wned of rivers, the
discovery of which "wiU immortaUse the name of Dr.
Li-vingstone.' The paths of the two poets who first sprang into
fame in the present reign are strangely remote from
each other. ]^Ir. Tennyson and Mr. Browning are as
unlike in style and choice of subject, and indeed in
the whole spirit of their poetry, as Wordsworth and
Byron. Mr. Tennyson deals -with incident and pic
turesque form, and graceful legend, and with so much
of doubt and thought and yearning melancholy as
would belong to a refined and cultured inteUect under
no greater stress or strain than the ordinary chances
of Ufe among educated EngUshmen might be expected
to impose. He has revived with great success the old
Arthurian legends, and made them a part of the living
Uterature of England. But the knights and ladies
whom he paints are refined, graceful, noble, -without
roughness, -without wUd or at all events complex and
distracting passions. It may perhaps be said that
Tennyson has taken for his province aU the beauty.

378 • A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xxis.
all the nobleness, all the feeling that Ue near to or on
the surface of IKe and of nature. His object might
seem to be that which Lessing declared the true object
of aU art, ' to delight ; ' but it is to deUght in a some
what narrower sense than was the meaning of Lessing.
Beauty, melancholy and repose are the elements of
Tennyson's poetry. There is no storm, no conflict,
no compUcation. Mr. Browning, on the other hand,
delights in perplexed problems of character and Ufe ;
in studying the effects of strange contrasting forces of
passion coming into play under pecuUar and distract
ing conditions. AU that Ues beneath the surface ; all
that is out of the common track of emotion ; aU that
is possible, that is poetically conceivable, but that the
outer air and the daUy walks of IKe never see, this is
what speciaUy attracts Mr. Browning. In Tennyson
a knight of King Arthur's mythical court has the
emotions of a poUshed English gentleman of our day,
and nothing more. Mr. Bro-wning would prefer, in
treating of a poUshed EngUsh gentleman of our day,
to exhibit him under some conditions which should
draw out in him aU the strange elementary passions
and compUcations of emotion that Ue far do'Am in
deeps below the surface of the best ordered ci-viUsa-
tion. The tendency of the one poet is naturaUy to
fall now and then into the sweetly insipid ; of the
other to wander away into the tangled regions of the
grotesque. It is perhaps only natural that under such
conditions the one poet should be profoundly con
cerned for beauty of form, and the latter almost abso
lutely indifferent to it. No poet has more finished

TIIE TWO POETS COMPARED, . 379
beauty of style and exquisite charm of melody than
Tennyson. None certainly can be more often want
ing in grace of form and deUght of soft sound than
Mr. Browning. There are many passages and even
many poems of Browning which show that the poet
could be melodious K he would ; but he seems some
times as K he took a positive delight in perplexing
the reader's ear -with harsh untuneful sounds. Mr.
Bro-wning commonly aUows the study of the purely
psychological to absorb too much of his moods and of
his genius. It has a fascination for him which he is
seemingly unable to resist. He makes of his poems
too often mere searchings into strange deeps of human
character and human error. He seldom abandons
himseK altogether to the inspiration of the poet ; he
hardly ever deserves the definition of the minstrel
given in Goethe's ballad who ' sings but as the song
bird sings.' Moreover, Mr. Bro-wning has an almost
morbid taste for the grotesque ; he is not unfre
quently a sort of poetic CaUot. It has to be added
that Mr. Bro-wning is seldom easy to understand,
and that there are times when he is only to be under
stood at the expense of as much thought and study
as one might give to a controverted passage in an
ancient author. This is a defect of art, and a very
serious defect. The more devoted of Mr. Brown
ing's admirers -wiU teU us no doubt that the poet is
not bound to supply us -with brains as weU as poetry,
and that K we cannot understand what he says it is
the fault simply of our stupidity. But an ordinary
man who finds that he can understand Shakespeare

380 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xxtx.
and MUton, Dryden and Wordsworth, Byron and Keats
without any trouble, may surely be excused K he does
not set down his difficulty about some of Browning's
poems wholly to the account of his own dulness. It
may well be doubted whether there is any idea so
subtle that K the poet can actually reaUse it in his
own mind clearly for himself the English language
¦wiU not be found capable of expressing it -with suf
ficient clearness. The language has been made to do
this for the most refined reasonings of philosophical
schools, for transcendentalists and utUitarians, for
psychologists and metaphysicians. No intelUgent
person feels any difficulty in understanding what MiU
or Herbert Spencer or Huxley means ; and it can
hardly be said that the ideas Mr. Bro-wning desires to
convey to his readers are more difficult of exposition
than some of those which the authors we name have
contrived to set out -with a white Ught of clearness aU
round them. The plain truth is that Mr. Browning
is a great poet in spite of some of the worst defects
that ever stood between a poet and popularity. He
is a great poet by virtue of his commanding genius ;
his fearless imagination, his penetrating pathos. He
strikes an iron harpstring. In certain of his moods
his poetry is like that of the terrible lyre in the weird
old Scottish ballad, the lyre that was made of the
murdered maiden's breast-bone, and which told its
fearful story in tones 'that would melt a heart of
stone.' In strength and depth of passion and pathos,
in wUd humour, in emotion of every kind, Mr.
Bro-wning is much superior to Mr. Tennyson. The

HIGHER EFFORT, OR MORE PERFECT ART? 381
Poet Laureate is the completer man. Mr. Tennyson
is beyond doubt the most complete of the poets of
Queen Victoria's time. No one else has the same
combination of melody, beauty of description, culture
and inteUectual power. He has sweetness and strength
in exquisite combination. If a just balance of poetic
powers were to be the crown of a poet, then undoubt
edly Mr. Tennyson must be proclaimed the greatest
EngUsh poet of our time. The reader's estimate of
Browning and Tennyson -wUl probably be decided by
his predUection for the higher effort or for the more
perfect art. Browning's is surely the higher aim in
poetic art ; but of the' art which he essays Tennyson
is by far the completer master. Tennyson has un
doubtedly thrown away much of his sweetness and
his exquisite grace of form on mere triflings and
pretty conceits ; and perhaps as a retribution those
poems of his which are most famiUar in the popular
mouth are just those which least do justice to his
genuine strength and intellect. The cheap sentiment
of ' Lady Clara Vere de Vere,' the yet cheaper pathos
of ' The May Queen,' are in the minds of thousands
the choicest representation of the genius of the poet
who wrote ' In Memoriam ' and the ' Morte d' Arthur.'
Mr. Browning, on the other hand, has chosen to court
the approval of his time on terms of such disadvan
tage as an orator might who insisted in addressing an
assemblage in some tongue which they but imperfectly
understood. It is the fault of Mr. Browning himself
K he has for his only audience and admirers men and
women of culture, and misses altogether that broad

382 A HISTORY OF OUR O'WN TIMES. cn. xxix.
public audience to which most poets have chosen to
sing, and which all true poets, one would think, must
desire to reach with the.'r song. It is on the other
hand assuredly Mr. Tennyson's fault if he has by nis
too frequent condescension to the drawing-room, and
even the young ladies' school, made men and women
of culture forget for the moment his best things, and
credit him -with no higher gift than that of singing
' virginibus puerisque.' One quaUty ought to be
mentioned as common to these two poets who have
so little else in common. They are both absolutely
faithful to nature and truth in their pictures of the
earth and its scenes and seasons. Almost aU the
great poets of the past age, even including Words
worth himseK, were now and then content to gene
ralise nature ; to take some things for granted ; to
use their memory, or the eyes of others, rather than
their own eyes, when they had to describe changes on
leaf, or sky, or water. It is the characteristic of
Tennyson and Browning that they deal with nature
m a spirit of the most faithful loyalty. Not the
branch of a tree, nor the cry of a bird, nor "the shKt-
ing colours on sea or sky "wUl be found described on
their pages otherwise than as the eye sees for itseK at
the season of which the poet tells. In reading Ten
nyson's description of woodland and forest scenes one
nught almost fancy that he can catch the exact pecu
liarities of sound in the rustling and moaning of each
separate tree. In some of Mr. Browning's pictures
of Italian scenery every detail is so perfect that many
a one journeying along an Italian road and watching

1809-1861. ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNESTG. 383
the Uttle mouse-coloured cattle as they drink at the
stream, may for the moment almost feel uncertain
whether he is looking on a page of li-ving reality or
recalling to memory a page from the author of ' The
Ring and the Book.' The poets seem to have returned
to the fresh simpUcity of a far distant age of poetry,
when a man described exactly what he saw and was
put to describing it because he saw it. In most of
the intermediate times a poet describes because some
other poet has described before, and has said that in
nature there are such and such beautiful things which
every true poet must see, and is bound to acknow
ledge accordingly in his verse.
These two are the greatest of our poets in the
earUer part of the reign ; indeed in the reign early or
late so far. But there are other poets also of whom we
must take account. Mrs. Browning has often been
described as the greatest poetess of whom we know
anything since Sappho. This description, however,
seems to carry 'with it a much higher degree of praise
than it reaUy bears. It has to be remembered that
there is no great poetess of whom we know anything
from the time of Sappho to that of Mrs. Bro'wning.
In England we have hardly had any woman but Mrs.
Bro-wning alone who reaUy deserves to rank -with
poets. She takes a place altogether different from
that of any Mrs. Hemans or such singer of sweet,
mUd, and innocent note. Mrs, Bro-wning would ranlc
highly among poets without any aUowance being
claimed for her sex. But estimated in this way, which
assuredly she would have chosen for herseK, she can

384 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xxix.
hardly be admitted to stand with the foremost even
of our modem day. She is one of the most sympa
thetic of poets. She speaks to the hearts of numbers
of readers who think Tennyson all too sweet, smooth
and trivial, and Robert Bro-wning harsh and rugged.
She speaks especially to the emotional in woman. In
all moods when men or women are distracted by the
bewildering conditions of Ufe, when they feel them
selves alternately dazzled by its possibUities and
baffied by its limitations, the poems of Ehzabeth
Browning ought to find sympathetic ears. But the
poems are not the highest which merely appeal to our
own moods and echo our own plaints ; and there was
not much of creative genius in Mrs. Bro-wning. Her
poems are often but a prolonged sob ; a burst of almost
hysterical remonstrance or entreaty. It must be o-wned,
however, that the egotism of emotion has ¦ seldom
found such exquisite form of outpouring as in her so-
caUed ' Sonnets from the Portuguese ; ' and that what
the phraseology of a school would caU the emotion of
' altruism ' has rarely been given forth in tones of
such piercing pathos as in ' The Cry of the ChUdren.'
Mr. Matthew Arnold's reputation was made before
this earlier period had closed. He is a maker of such
exquisite and thoughtful verse that it is hard some
times to question his title to be considered a genuine
poet. On the other hand, it is likely that the very
grace and culture and thoughtfulness of his style
inspire in many the first doubt of his claim to the name
of poet. Where the art is e-vident and elaborate, we are
all too apt to assume that it is all art and not genius.

OTHER POETS. 385
Mr. Arnold is a sort of miniature Goethe ; we do not
know that his most ardent admirers could demand
a higher praise for him, whUe it is probable that the
description -wiU suggest exactly the intellectual pecu-
Uarities which lead so many to deny him a place
-with the reaUy inspired singers of his day. Of the
three men whom we have named we should be
inclined to say that Mr. Arnold made the very most
of his powers, and Mr. Bro-wning the very least. Mr.
Arnold is a critic as weU as a poet : there are many
who reUsh him more in the critic than in the poet.
In Uterary criticism his judgment is refined, and hia
aims are always high K his range be not very wide ;
in poUtics and theology he is somewhat apt to be at
once fastidious and fantastic.
The ' Song of the Shirt ' would give Thomas
Hood a technical right, K he had none other, to be
classed as a poet of the reign of Queen Victoria. The
' Song of the Shirt' was published in Punch when the
reign was weU on ; and after it, appeared ' The Bridge
of Sighs ; ' and no two of Hood's poems have done
more to make him famous. He was a genuine, though
not a great poet, in whom humour was most properly
to be defined as Thackeray has defined it — ^the blend
ing of love and -wit. The ' Song of the Shirt ' and the
' Brida-e of Sighs' made themselves a kind of monu-
mental place in EngUsh sympathies. The ' Plea of
the Midsummer Fairies ' was written several years
before. It alone would have made for its author a
reputation. The baUad of ' Fair Inez ' is almost per
fect in its way. The name of Sir Henry Taylor must
VOL. II. c c

386 A HISTORY OF OUR O'WN TIMES. cn. xxix.
be included 'with the poets of this reign, although his
best work was done before the reign began. In his
work, clear strong inteUigence prevaUs more than the
emotional and the sensuous. He makes himself a
poet by •virtue of inteUect and artistic judgment; for
there really do seem some examples of a poet being
made and not born. We can hardly bring Procter
among the Victorian poets. Macaulay's ringing
verses are rather the splendid and successftd tours de
force of a clever man, than the genuine lyrics of a
poet. Arthur Clough was a man of rare promise,
whose lamp was extinguished aU too soon. PhUip
James BaUey startled the world by his 'Festus,'
and for a time made people beUeve that a great
new poet was coming ; but the impression did not
last, and BaUey proved to be Uttle more than the
comet of a season. A spasmodic school which sprang
up after the success of 'Festus,' and which was led
by a biilUant young Scotchman, Alexander Smith,
passed away in a spasm as it came, and is now
almost forgotten. ' Orion,' an epic poem by Richard
H. Home, made a very distinct mark upon the time.
Home proved himself to be a sort of Landor manque
— or perhaps a connecting link between the style of
Landor and that of Browning. The earUer part of
the reign was rich in singers ; but the names and
careers of most of them would serve rather to show
that the poetic spirit was abroad, and that it sought
expression in aU manner of forms, than that there
were many poets to dispute the place with Tennyson
and Bro'wning. It is not necessary here to record a

RUSKIN. 387
Ust of mere names. The air was filled with the voices
of minor singers. It was pleasant to listen to their
piping, and the general effect may weU be commended;
but it is not necessary that the names of aU the per
formers in an orchestra should be recorded for the
supposed gratification of a posterity which assuredly
would never stop to read the list.
Thirty-sis years have passed away since Mr, Rus
kin leaped into the Uterary arena, -with a spring as
bold and startling as that of Kean on the Kemble-
haunted stage. The Uttle volume, so modest in its
appearance and seK- sufficient in its tone, which the
author defiantly flung down Uke a gage of battle
before the world, was entitled, ' Modem Painters :
their superiority in the art of Landscape Painting to
all the Ancient Masters ; by a Graduate of Oxford,'
It was a chaUenge to estabUshed beliefs and preju
dices ; and the chaUenge was delivered in the tone of
one who felt confident that he could make good his
words against any and aU opponents. If there was
one thing that more than another seemed to have
been fixed and rooted in the English mind, it was
that Claude and one or two others of the old masters
possessed the secret of landscape painting. When,
therefore, a bold young dogmatist involved in one
common denunciation ' Claude, Gaspar Poussin, Sal
vator Rosa, Ruysdael, Paul Potter, Canaletto, and the
various Van-somethings and Koek- somethings, more
especiaUy and malignantly those who have Ubelled
the sea,' it was no wonder that affronted authority
raised its indignant voice and thundered at him.
c 0 2

388 A IHSTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. ch.xxii.
Affronted authority, however, gained Uttle by its
thunder. The young Oxford Graduate possessed^
along with genius and profound conviction, an im
perturbable and magnificent seK-conceit against which
the surges of angry criticism dashed themselves in
vain. Mr, Ruskin sprang into Uterary Ufe simply as
a "vindicator of the fame and genius of Turner, But
as he went on with his task he found, or at least he
con"vinced himseK, that the "vindication of the great
landscape painter was essentially a "vindication of
aU true art. StUl further proceeding "with his seK-
imposed task, he persuaded himself that the cause of
true art was identical "with the cause of truth, and
that truth, from Ruskin's point of view, enclosed in
the same rules and principles aU the morals, aU the
science, industry, and daUy business of IKe. There
fore, from an art-critic he became a moralist, a poU
tical economist, a phUosopher, a statesman, a preacher
¦ — anything, everything that human inteUigence can
impel a man to be. AU that he has written since his
first appeal to the public has been inspired by this
con"viction : that an appreciation of the truth in art
reveals to him who has it the truth in everything.
This beUef has been the source of Mr. Ruskin's
greatest successes, and of his most complete and ludi
crous faUures. It has made him the admiration of
the world one week and the object of its placid pity
or broad laughter the next. A being who could be
Joan of Arc to-day and Voltaire's Pucelle to-morrow,
would hardly exhibit a stronger psychical paradox
than the eccentric genius of Mr, Ruskin sometimes

ruskin's LOVE OF NATURE. 389
Ulustrates. But in order to do him justice, and not
to regard him as a mere erratic utterer of eloquent
contradictions, poured out on the impulse of each
moment's new freak of fancy, we must always bear in
mind the fundamental faith of the man. Extravagant
as this or that doctrine may be, outrageous as to
day's contradiction of yesterday's assertion may sound,
yet the whole career is consistent "with its essential
principles and beliefs. It may be fairly questioned
whether Mr. Ruskin has any great quaUties but his
eloquence and his true, honest love of nature. As a
man to Stand up before a society of which one part
was fashionably languid and the other part only too
busy and greedy, and preach to it of Nature's im
mortal beauty, and of the true way to do her rever
ence, Ruskin has and had a position of genuine
dignity. This ought to be enough for the work and
for the praise of any man. But the restlessness of
Ruskin's temperament, combined -with the extra
ordinary seK-sufficiency which contributed so much
to his success where he was master of a subject, sent
bim perpetuaUy intruding into fields where he was
unfit to labour, and enterprises which he had no
capacity to conduct. Seldom has a man contradicted
himseK so often, so recklessly, and so complacently
as Mr. Rtiskin. It is venturesome to caU him a
great critic even in art, for he seldom expresses any
opinion one day without flatly contradicting it the
next. He is a great writer as Rousseau was — afresh,
eloquent, audacious, "writing out of the fulness of the
present mood, and heedless how far the impulse of

390 A HISTORY OF OUR O'WN TBIES. cn. xxix.
to-day may contravene that of yesterday. But as
Rousseau was always faithful to his idea of truth, so
Ruskin is always faithful to Nature. When aU his
errors, and paradoxes, and contradictions shaU have
been utterly forgotten, this 'wiU remain to his praise.
No man since Wordsworth's brightest days did haK
so much to teach his countrymen, and those who
speak his languagCj how to appreciate and honour
that silent Nature ' which never did betray the heart
that loved her.'
In fiction as weU as in poetry there are two great
names to be compared or contrasted when we turn to
the Uterature of the earlier part of the reign. In the
very year of Queen Victoria's accession appeared the
' Pick"wick Papers,' the work of the author who the
year before had pubUshed the ' Sketches by Boz.'
The public soon recognised the fact that a new and
wonderfuUy original force had come into Uterature.
The success of Charles Dickens is absolutely un-
equaUed in the history of EngUsh fiction. At the
season of his highest popularity Sir Walter Scott was
not so popular an author. But that happened to
Dickens which did not happen to Scott. When
Dickens was at his zenith, and when it might have
been thought that any manner of rivalry "with him
was impossible, a Ute;rary man who was no longer
young, who had been working "with but moderate
success for many years in Ught Uterature, suddenly
took to "writing novels, and almost in a moment stepped
up to a level "with the author of ' Pick"vrick.' During
the remainder of their careers the two men stood as

1812-1870. DICKENS. 391
nearly as possible on the sanie level. Dickens always
remained by far the more popular of the two ; but on
the other hand it may be safely said that the opinion
of the Uterary world in general was inclined to favour
Thackeray. From the time of the publication of
* Vanity Fair ' the two were always put side by side
for comparison or contrast. They have been some
times likened to Fielding and SmoUett, but no com
parison could be more misleading or less happy.
SmoUett stands on a level distinctly and considerably
below that of Fielding ; but Dickens cannot be said
to stand thus beneath Thackeray. If the comparison
were to hold at aU, Thackeray must be compared to
Fielding, for Fielding is not in the least like Dickens ;
but then it must be aUowed that SmoUett wants many
of the higher quaUties of the author of ' Da"vid Cop-
perfield.' It is natural that men should compare
Dickens and Thackeray ; but the two wUl be found to
be curiously unUke when once a certain superficial re
semblance ceases to impress the mind. Their ways
of treating a subject were not only dissimUar but were
absolutely in contrast. They started, to begin with,
under the influence of a totally different phUosophy
of Ufe, K that is to be called a philosophy which
was probably only the result of pecuUarity of tem
perament in each case, Dickens set out on the
Uterary theory that in life everything is better than it
looks ; Thackeray "with the impression that it is worse.
In the one case there was somewhat too much of a
mechanical interpretation of everything for the best
in the best possible world ; in the other the savour of

392 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. ch.xxix*
cynicism was at times a Uttle annoying. As each
writer went on the pecuUarity became more and more
of a mannerism. But the writings of Dickens were
far more deeply influenced by his pecuUarities of
feeling or phUosophy than those of Thackeray, A
large share of the admiration which is popularly
given to Dickens is undoubtedly a tribute to what
people consider his cheerful view of IKe, In that too
he is especiaUy English. In this country the artistic
theory of France and other continental nations,
borrowed from the aasthetic principles of Greece,
which accords the palm to the artistic treatment
rather than to the subject, or the purpose, or the way
of looking at things, has found hardly any broad and
general acceptation. The popularity of Dickens was
therefore in great measure due to the fact that he set
forth Ufe in cheerful lights and colours. He had of
course gKts of far higher artistic value; he could de
scribe anything that he saw "with a fideUty which
Balzac could not have surpassed ; and like Balzac he
had a way of inspiring inanimate objects "with a
mystery and motive of their own which gave them
often a weird and fascinatmg indi-viduaUty. But it must
be owned that K Dickens's peculiar 'philosophy'
were effaced from his works the fame of the author
wotUd remain a very different thing from what it is
at the present moment. On the other hand it would
be possible to cut out of Thackeray all his little
cynical, melancholy sentences and reduce his novels
to bare descriptions of life and character, -without
affecting in any sensible degree his influence on the

1811-1SC3. THACKERAY. 393
reader or his position in Uterature. Thackeray had
a marveUously keen appreciation of human motive
and character "within certain Umits. If Dickens could
draw an old quaint house or an odd family interior as
faithfully and yet as picturesquely as Balzac, so on
the other hand not Balzac himself could analyse and
iUustrate the weaknesses and foibles of certain types
of character with greater subtlety of judgment and
force of exposition than Thackeray. Dickens had
Uttle or no knowledge of human character, and e"vi-
dently cared very little about the study. His stories
are fairy tales made credible by the masterly realism
with which he described aU the surroundings and ac
cessories, the costumes and the ways of his men and
women. WhUe we are reading of a man whose odd
pecuUarities strike us -with a sense of reality as K we
had observed them for ourselves many a time, whUe
we see him surrounded by streets and houses which
seem to us rather more real and a hundred times
more interesting than those through which we pass
every day, we are not likely to observe very quickly
or to take much heed of the fact when we do observe
it, that the man acts on various important occasions
of his Ufe as only people in fairy stories ever do act.
Thackeray, on the other hand, cared Uttle for descrip
tions of externals. He left his readers to construct
for themselves the greater part of the surroundings
of his personages from his description of the cha
racters of the personages themselves. He made us
acquainted with the man or woman in his chapters as
K we had kno"wn him or her all our Ufe ; and kno"wing

394 A IHSTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xxrx.
Pendeimis or Becky Sharp we had no difficulty in
constructing the surroundings of either for ourselves.
Thus it wUl be seen that these two eminent authors'
had not only different ideas about life but absolutely
contrasting principles of art. One woAed froni the
externals inward ; the other realised the unseen, and
left the externals to grow of themsel"ves. Three great
pecuUarities, however, they shared. Each Uved and
"wrote of and for London. Dickens created for
art the London of the middle and poorer classes;
Thackeray did the same for the London of the upper
class and for those who strive to imitate their ways.
Neither ever even attempted to describe a man kept
constantly above and beyond the atmosphere of mere
egotism by some sustaining greatness or even intensity
of purpose. In Dickens, as in Thackeray, the emotions
described are those of conventional Ufe merely. This
is not to be said in disparagement of either artist. It
is rather a tribute to an artist's knowledge of his 0"wn
capacity and sphere of work that he only attempts to
draw what he thoroughly understands. But it is
proper to remark of Dickens and of Thackeray, as of
Balzac, that the life they described was after aU but
the Ufe of a coterie or a quarter, and that there
existed side by side "with their field of work a whole
world of emotion, aspiration, struggle, defeat and
triumph, of which their brightest pages do not give
a single suggestion. This is the more curious to
observe because of the third peculiarity which Dickens
and Thackeray had in common — a love for the purely
ideal and romantic in fiction. There are many critics

DICKENS AND THACKERAY. 395
who hold that Dickens in ' Barnaby Rudge ' and the
'Tale of Two Cities,' Thackeray in 'Esmond' ex
hibited powers which vindicated for their possessors a
very rare infusion of that higher poetic spirit which
might have made of both something greater than
the painters of the manners of a day and a class.
But to paint the maimers of a day and a class as
Dickens and Thackeray have done is to deserve fame
and the gratitude of posterity. The age of Victoria
may claim in this respect an equality at least "with
that of the reign which produced Fielding and Smol
lett ; for K there are some who would demand for
Fielding a higher place on the whole than can be
given either to Dickens or to Thackeray, there are not
many on the other hand who would not say that
either Dickens or Thackeray is distinctly superior to
SmoUett. The age must claim a high place in art
¦which could in one department alone produce two
such competitors. Their effect upon their time was
something marveUous. People talked Dickens or
thought Thackeray.
Passion, it "vriU be seen, counted for little in the
works of Dickens and Thackeray. Dickens, indeed,
could draw a conventionally or dramatically "wicked
man "with much power and impressiveness ; and
Thackeray could suggest certain forms of "vice with
wonderful deUcacy and yet "vi-vidness. But the pas
sions which are common to all human natures in their
elementary moods made but Uttle play in the novels
of either writer. Both were in this respect, for all
their originaUty and genius in other ways, highly and

396 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. ch.xxix.
even exclusively conventional. There was apparently a
sort of understanding in the mind of each — indeed
Thackeray has admitted as much in his preface to
' Pendennis ' — that men and women were not to be
drawn as men and women are known to be, but -with
certain reserves to suit conventional etiquette. It is
somewhat curious that the one only novel-"writer who
during the period we are now considering came into
any real rivalry "with them, was one who depended on
passion altogether for her material and her success.
The novels of a young woman, Charlotte Bronte,
compelled aU EngUsh society into a recognition not
alone of their o"wn sterling power and genius, but also
of the fact that profound and passionate emotion was
BtUl the stuff out of which great fiction could be con
structed. ' Exultations, agonies, and love, and man's
unconquerable mind' were taken by Charlotte Bronte
as the matter out of which her art was to produce its
triumphs. The novels which made her fame, ' Jane
Eyre,' and ' VUlette,' are positively aflame with pas
sion and pain. They have Uttle variety. They make
hardly any pretence to accurate drawing of ordinary
men and women in ordinary Ufe, or at aU events
under ordinary conditions. The authoress had Uttle
of the gift of the mere story-teller; and her o-wn
peculiar powers were exerted sometimes "with indK-
ferent success. The famUiar on whom she depended
for her inspiration would not always come at call.
She had little genuine relish for beauty, except the
beauty of a weUd melancholy and of decay. But when
she touched the chord of elementary human emotion

1816-1855. CHARLOTTE BRONTE. 397
with her best skUl, then it was impossible for her
audience not to feel that they were under the speU of
a power rare indeed in our well-ordered days. The
absolute sincerity of the author's expression of feeling
lent it great part of its strength and charm. Nothing
was ever said by her because it seemed to society the
right sort of thing to say. She told a friend that she
felt sure ' Jane Eyre ' would have an effect on readers
in general because it had so great an effect on her
self. It would be possible to argue that the great
strength of the books lay in their sincerity alone;
that Charlotte Bronte was not so much a woman of
extraordinary genius as a woman who looked her o-wn
feelings fairly in the face, and painted them as she
saw them. But the capacity to do this would surely
be something which we could not better describe than
by the word genius. Charlotte Bronte was far from
being an artist of fulfilled power. She is rather to be
regarded as one who gave evidence of extraordinary
gifts which might with time and care, and under
happier artistic auspices, have been turned to such
account as would have made for her a fame -with the
very chiefs of her tribe. She died at an age hardly
more mature than that at which Thackeray won his
first distinct literary success ; much earlier than the
age at which some of our greatest novelists brought
forth their first completed novels. But she left a
very deep impression on her time, and the time that
has come and is coming after her. No other hand in
the age of Queen Victoria has dealt -with human emo
tion so powerfully and so truthfuUy. Hers are not

398 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. ch.xxix.
cheerful novels. A cold grey mournful atmosphere
hangs over them. One might imagine that, the
shadow of an early death is forecast on them. They
love to linger among the glooms of nature, to haunt
her darkling winti'y t-wUights, to study her stormy sun
sets, to link man's destiny and his hopes, fears, and
passions somehow -with the glare and gloom of storm
and darkness, and to read the symbols of his fate as
the fore- doomed and passion- wasted Antony did in
the cloud-masses that are 'black vesper's pageants.'
The supernatural had a constant : vague charm for
Charlotte Bronte, as the painfiU had. Man was to
her a being tom between passionate love and the
more ignoble impulses and ambitions and common-
day occupations of Ufe. Woman was a being of equal
passion, stUl more sternly and crueUy doomed to re
pression and renunciation. It was a strange fact that
in the midst of the splendid material successes and
the quietly triumphant inteUectual progress of thi^
most prosperous and weU-ordered age, when even in
its poetry and its romance passion was systematicaUy
toned down and put in thrall to good taste and pro
priety, this young writer should have sudderdy come
out -with her books aU thrUling with emotion, and aU
protesting in the strongest practical manner against
the theory that the loves and hates of men and women
had been tamed by the process of ci-vUisation. Per
haps the very novelty of the apparition was in great
measure a part of its success. Charlotte Bronte did
not, indeed, influence the general public, or even the
literary public, to anything like the same extent that

1805-1873. BULWER LYTTON. 399
Thackeray and Dickens did. She appeared and
passed away almost I'U a moment. As Miss Martineau
said of her, she stole like a shadow into literature and
then became a shadow again. But she struck very
deeply into the heart of the time. If her -writings
were only, as has been said of them, a cry of pain, yet
they were such a cry as once heard lingers and echoes
in the mind for ever after. Godwin declared that he
would write in ' Caleb WUliams' a book which would
leave no man who read it the same that he was before.
Something not unlike this might be said of ' Jane
Eyre.' No one who read it was exactly the same
that he had been before he opened its weird and won
derful pages.
No man could weU have made more of his gKts
than Lord Lytton. Before the coming up of Dickens
and Thackeray he stood above all living English
noveUsts. Perhaps 'this is rather to the reproach of
the English fiction of the day than to the reno"wn of
Lord Lytton. But even after Dickens and Thackeray
and Charlotte Bronte and later and not less powerful
and original writers had appeared in the same field,
he stUl held a place of great mark in literature. That
he was not a man of genius is, perhaps, conclusively
proved by the fact that he was able so readUy to
change his style to suit the tastes of each day. He
began by writing of fops and roues of a time now
almost forgotten; then he made heroes of highway
men and murderers; afterwards he tried the phUo
sophic and mUdly didactic style ; then he turned to
mysticism and spiritualism; later stUl he wrote of

400 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xxrx.
the French Second Empire. Whatever he tried to do
he did weU. Besides his novels he -wrote plays and
poems ; and his plays are among the very few modem
productions which manage to keep the stage. He
played, too, and -with much success, at being a states
man and an orator. Not Demosthenes himseK had
such difficulties of articulation to contend against in
the beginning ; and Demosthenes conquered his diffi
culties, whUe some of those in the way of Lord Lytton
proved unconquerable. Yet Lord Lytton did some
how contrive to become a great speaker, and to seem
occasionaUy like a great orator in the House of Com
mons. He was at the very least a superb phrase-
maker ; and he could turn to account every scrap of
knowledge in Uterature, art, or science which he
happened to possess. His success in the House of
Commons was exactly like his success in romance
and the drama. He threw himseK into competition
-with men of far higher original gKts, and he made so
good a show of contesting with them that in the
minds of many the victory was not clearly with his
antagonists. There was always, for example, a con
siderable class, even among educated persons, who
maintained that Lytton was in his way quite the
peer of Thackeray and Dickens. His plays, or some
of them, obtained a popularity only second to those
of Shakespeare ; and although nobody cared to read
them, yet people were always found to go and look at
them. When Lytton went into the House of (Com
mons for the second time he found audiences which
were occasionally tempted to regard him as the rival

DISRAELL 401
of Gladstone and Bright. Not a few persons saw in
all this only a sort of superb charlatanerie ; and indeed
it is certam that no man ever made and kept a
genuine success in so many different fields as those
in which Lord Lytton tried and seemed to succeed.
But he had splendid qualities ; he had everything
short of genius. He had indomitable patience, inex
haustible power of seK-culture, and a capacity for
assimilating the floating ideas of the hour which sup
pUed the place of originaUty. He borrowed from the
poet the knack of poetical expression, and from the
dramatist the trick of construction ; from the Byronic
time its professed scorn for the false gods of the
world ; and from the more modern period of popular
science and sham mysticism its extremes of material
ism and magic ; and of these and various other bor-
ro-wings he made up an article which ¦ no One else
could have constructed out of the same materials.
He was not a great author; but he was a great
literary man. Mr. Disraeli's novels belong in some
measure to the school of ' Pelham ' and ' Godolphin.'
But it should be said that Mr. DisraeU's 'Vivian
Grey ' was pubUshed before ' Pelham ' made its ap
pearance. In all that belongs to political IKe Mr.
Disraeli's novels are far superior to those of Lord
Lytton. We have nothing in our Uterature to com
pare with some of the best of Mr. DisraeU's novels
for Ught political satire and for easy accurate charac
terisation of poUtical cliques and personages. But all
else in DisraeU's novels is sham. The sentiment,
the poetry, the phUosophy — aU these are sham. They
VOL. II. D D

402 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. cn. xxix.
have not haK the appearance of reality about them
that Lytton has contrived to give to his efforts of the
same kind. In one at least of Disraeli's latest novels
the poUtical sketches and satirismg became sham
also. ' Alton Locke,' was published nearly thirty years
ago. Then Charles Kingsley became to most boys in
Great Britain who read books at all a sort of living
embodiment of chivalry, liberty, and a revolt against
the established order of class-oppression in so many
spheres of our society. For a long time he continued
to be the chosen hero of young men -with the youthful
spirit of revolt in them, with dreams of Republics
and ideas about the equaUty of man. Later on he
commanded other admiration for other qualities, for
the championship of slave systems, of oppression, and
the iron reign of mere force. But though Charles
Kingsley always held a high place somewhere m
¦popular estimation, he is not to be rated very highly
as an author. He described glowing scenery ad
mirably, and he rang the changes vigorously on his
two or three ideas — the muscular Englishman, the
glory of the Elizabethan discoveries, and so on. He
was a scholar, and he wrote verses which sometimes
one is on the point of mistaking for poetry, so much
of the poet's feeling have they in them. He did a
great many thmgs very cleverly. Perhaps if he had
done less he might have done better. Human capa
city is Umited. It is not given to mortal to be a
great preacher, a great philosopher, a great scholar, a
great poet, a great historian^ a great noveUst, and an

KINGSLEY; LEVER; JAMES. 403
indefatigable country parson. Charles Kingsley never
seems to have made up his mind for which of these
callings to go in especially, and being with aU his
versatUity not at all many-sided, but strictly one-sided
and almost one-idead, the result was, that while touch
ing success at many points he absolutely mastered it
at none. Smce his novel ' Westward Ho,' he never
added anythmg substantial to his reputation. All
this acknowledged, however, it must stUl be owned
that faUing in this, that, and the other attempt, and
never achieving any real and endurmg success, Charles
Kingsley was an influence and a man of mark in the
Victorian age.
Perhaps a word ought to be said of the rattling
romances of Irish electioneering, love-making, and
fighting which set people reading ' Charles O'MaUey'
and 'Jack Hinton,' even when 'Pickwick' was still
a novelty. Charles Lever had wonderful animal
spirits and a broad, bright humour. He was quite
genuine in his way. He afterwards changed his style
completely, and "with much success; and wiU be
found in the later part of the period holding just the
same relative place as in the earlier, just behind the
foremost men, but in manner so different that he
might be a new writer who had never read a Une of
the roystering adventures of Light Dragoons which
were popular when Charles Lever first gave them to
the world. There was nothing great about Lever,
but the literature of the Victorian period would not
be quite aU that we know it "without him. There
were many other popular novelists during the period
D D 2

404 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TBIES. ch. xxix.
we have passed over, some in their day more popular
than either Thackeray or Charlotte Bronte. Many
of us can remember without being too much ashamed
of the fact, that there were early days when Mr. James
and his cavaUers and his chivalric adventures gave
nearly as much delight as Walter Scott could have
given to the youth of a preceding generation. But
Walter Scott is with us stiU, young and old, and poor
James is gone. His once famous solitary horseman
has ridden away into actual soUtude, and the shades
of night have gathered over his heroic form.
The founding of Punch drew together a host of
clever young writers, some of whom made a reaUy deep
mark on the Uterature of their time, and the combined
influence of whom in this artistic and literary under
taking was on the whole decidedly healthy. Thackeray
was by far the greatest of the regular contributors to
Punch in its earlier days. But ' The Song of the
Shirt ' appeared in its pages, and some of the brightest
of Douglas Jerrold's writings made their appearance
there. Punch was a thoroughly English production.
It had Uttle or nothing in common "with the comic
periodicals of Paris. It ignored absolutely and of set
purpose the whole class of subjects which make up
three-fourths of the stock in trade of a French satirist.
The escapades of husbands and the infidelities of wives
form the theme of by far the greater number of the
humorous sketches with pen or pencU in Parisian
comicalities. Punch kept altogether aloof fi'om such
unsavoury subjects. It had an advantage, of course,
which was habitually denied to the French papers —

1841. * PUNCH.' 405
it had unlimited freedom of political satire and carica
ture. Politics and the more tri"vial troubles and trials
of social Ufe gave subjects to Punch. The inequaUties
of class, and the struggles of ambitious and vain persons
to get into circles higher than their own, or at least to
imitate their manners — these supplied for Punch the
place of the class of topics on which French papers
relied when they had to deal "with the domestic life of
the nation. Punch started by being somewhat fiercely
radical, but gradually toned away into a sort of
intelligent and respectable Conservatism. Its artistic
sketches were from first to last admirable. Some
men of true genius wrought for it with the pencU as
others did "with the pen. Doyle, Leech, and Tenniel
were men of whom any school of art might weU be
proud. A remarkable sobriety of style was apparent
in aU their humours. Of later years caricature has
had absolutely no place in the iUustrations to Punch.
The satire is quiet, delicate, and no doubt superficial.
It is a satire of manners, dress, and social ways
altogether. There is justice in the criticism that of
late more especiaUy the pages of Punch give no idea
whatever of the emotions of the EngUsh people.
There is no suggestion of grievance, of bitterness, of
passion or pain. It is all made up of the pleasures
and annoyances of the kind of IKe which is enclosed
in a garden party. But it must be said that Punch
has thus always succeeded in maintaining a good,
open, convenient, neutral ground, where young men
and maidens, girls and boys, elderly politicians and
staid matrons, law, trade, science, aU sects and

406 A HISTORY OF OUR OWN TIMES. ch.xxix.
creeds, may safely and pleasantly mingle. It is not
so, to be sure, that great satire is wrought. A
SwKt or a Juvenal is not thus to be brought out.
But a votary of the present would have his answer
simple and conclusive : We live in the age of Punch ;
we do not Uve in the age of Juvenal or SwKt.

END OF THE SECOND VOLUME.

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