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Title: The Life and Times of Queen Victoria; vol. 1 of 4
Author: Wilson, Robert Pierpont
Language: English
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*** Start of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "The Life and Times of Queen Victoria; vol. 1 of 4" ***
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[Illustration: HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN.
_From a Photograph by Mr. Walery, London_]
THE
LIFE AND TIMES
OF
QUEEN VICTORIA.
BY
ROBERT WILSON.
Illustrated.
VOL. I.
[Illustration]
CASSELL & COMPANY, LIMITED:
_LONDON, PARIS & MELBOURNE_.
[ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.]
EDITORIAL NOTE.
The first Eleven Chapters of this Work are from the pen of the late MR.
EDMUND OLLIER, to whom the Publishers originally entrusted the
commission to write it--a commission which he was compelled to resign by
the illness which terminated in his lamented death.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
EARLY YEARS OF THE PRINCESS VICTORIA. PAGE
A Remarkable Visit to Kensington Palace--Death of King William
IV.--Details of his Last Days--Parliamentary Eulogies on his
Character--Progress in the Last Half-Century--Ancestry of Queen
Victoria--Her Descent Traced to Odoacer, King of Italy--Saxon
Ancestors of her Majesty--Liberal Views of the Duke of Kent, Father
of the Queen--State of the Succession after the Death of the Princess
Charlotte--Marriage of the Duke of Kent, and Birth of the Princess
Victoria--Christening at Kensington Palace--The Name “Victoria,”
and its Associations--Death of the Duke of Kent--Kensington Palace
in the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries--Early Training of
Victoria by her Mother--Child-Life of the Princess--False Rumours
of Ill-Health--Anecdotes of Juvenile Years--The Princess and George
IV.--Accession of William IV.--The Regency Bill--Prince Leopold
and the Throne of Belgium--Studies of the Princess--Her Life of
Retirement--Home Tours in Various Parts of England--Visit to the Cotton
Mills of the Messrs. Strutt at Belper--Reception at Oxford and at
Southampton--Benevolence to an Actress--Her Royal Highness Declared of
Age on the 24th of May, 1837 1
CHAPTER II.
EARLY EVENTS OF THE NEW REIGN.
First Council of the Queen--Her Address to the Assembled
Dignitaries--Admirable Demeanour of the Young Sovereign--Proclamation
of Queen Victoria--Condition of the Empire at the Time of her
Accession--Character of Lord Melbourne, the Prime Minister--His
Training of the Queen in Constitutional Principles--Question of the
Royal Prerogative and the Choosing of the Ministry--Removal of the
Queen to Buckingham Palace--First Levee--Her Majesty’s Speech on the
Dissolution of Parliament--Amelioration of the Criminal Laws--Results
of the General Election--Meeting of the New Legislature--The Civil
List Fixed--Relations of the Queen towards the Duchess of Kent--Daily
Life of her Majesty--Royal Visit to the City--Insurrection in the Two
Canadas--Measures of the Government, and Suppression of the Revolt--The
Melbourne Administration and Lord Durham--Reform of the Canadian
Constitution 19
CHAPTER III.
THE DIFFICULTIES OF A YOUNG SOVEREIGN.
Decline in the Popularity of the Queen--Its Causes--Her Majesty
Accused of Encouraging the Papists--Alleged Design to Assassinate
the Monarch--Disloyal Toryism--Honourable Conduct of the
Queen--Fatal Riots at Canterbury, owing to the Pretensions of
John Nicholls Thom--Preparations for the Coronation--The Ceremony
at Westminster Abbey--Incidents of the Day--Mismanagement at
Coronations--Development of Steam Navigation and the Railway
System--Prorogation of Parliament in August, 1838--Difficult Position
of the Government--Rise of Chartism--Appearance of Mr. Gladstone
and Mr. Disraeli in the Political Arena--Failure of Mr. Disraeli’s
First Speech--“Conservatives” and “Liberals”--Capture of Aden, in
Southern Arabia--Wars with China, owing to the Smuggling of Opium
into that Country by the Anglo-Indians--Troubles in Jamaica--Bill
for Suspending the Constitution--Defeat and Resignation of the
Melbourne Government--Ineffectual Attempt of Sir Robert Peel to Form
a Cabinet--The Question of the Bedchamber Women--Reinstatement of the
Melbourne Administration 35
CHAPTER IV.
COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE.
English Chartism in the Summer of 1839--Riots in Birmingham--Principal
Leaders of the Chartist Party--Excesses of the Artisans in Various
Parts of Great Britain and Ireland--Chartist Rising at Newport,
Monmouthshire--Conviction of Frost, Williams, and Jones--The Queen and
Prince Albert--Early Life of the Prince--His Engaging Qualities--Desire
of King Leopold to Effect a Matrimonial Engagement between Prince
Albert and the Princess Victoria--First Visit of the Former to
England--His Studies in Germany--Informal Understanding between Prince
Albert and Queen Victoria--Difficulties of the Case--The Prince’s View
of the Matter in the Autumn of 1839--Second Visit to England, and
Formal Betrothal--Letter of Baron Stockmar on the Subject--Announcement
of the Royal Marriage to the Privy Council and to Parliament--The
Appointment of the Prince’s Household--Subjects of Difficulty and
Dissension--Question of the Prince’s Religion--Reduction of his Annuity
by a Vote of the House of Commons--Progress from Gotha to England, and
Reception at Buckingham Palace--Marriage of Prince Albert to the Queen
at the Chapel Royal, St. James’s 57
CHAPTER V.
THE FIRST YEAR OF MARRIED LIFE.
Difficulties of the Early Married Life of Prince Albert--His
Unpopularity in Certain Quarters--Attempt to Suppress Duelling
in the Army--Position of the Prince in the Royal Household--Want
of Supervision in the Management of the Palace--Introduction of
Reforms, on the Initiative of Prince Albert--Duties Assumed by the
Prince--Domestic Life--Post Office Reform--Defective State of the
Service previous to 1840--Rowland Hill and the Penny Post--Opposition
to the New Scheme--Introduction of the Lower Rate of Postage--General
Features and Effects of the Change--Measure for the Protection of
Children Employed in Chimney-Sweeping--Attempt of Edward Oxford to
Shoot the Queen--Appointment of Prince Albert as Regent under certain
Eventualities--Life and Studies at Windsor--Birth of the Princess
Royal--Devotion of the Prince to her Majesty--Christmas at Windsor
(1840)--Christening of the Princess--Accident to Prince Albert--The
Eastern Question: Turkey and Egypt--Removal of the Body of Napoleon I.
from St. Helena to Paris--Rise and Development of the Agitation for
Free Trade 71
CHAPTER VI.
TROUBLES IN THE STATE, AND HAPPINESS AT HOME. PAGE
Growing Unpopularity of the Melbourne Administration--The
Stockdale Case--Approaching Fall of the Government--Financial
Embarrassments--Lord John Russell’s Proposal with respect to the Corn
Laws--Defeat of the Ministry--General Election, and Conservative
Majority--Views of Prince Albert--Settlement of the “Bedchamber”
Question--Wise Counsel of the Prince and Baron Stockmar--Visits of
the Queen to Places of Interest--Troublesome Loyalty--Launch of the
_Trafalgar_--The Melbourne Government and Free Trade--Speech from
the Throne on the Meeting of the New Parliament--Vote of Want of
Confidence in the Government--Resignation of Ministers--Final Years
of Lord Melbourne--Formation and Chief Objects of Sir Robert Peels
Administration--The High Church Movement in England--Disruption of the
Church of Scotland--Lord Melbourne’s Opinion of Prince Albert--Sir
Robert Peel and the Prince--Public Appearances of the Latter in
Connection with Social and Artistic Questions--Birth and Christening
of the Prince of Wales--Meeting of Parliament for the Session of
1842--Splendid Festivities at Court--Attempts of Francis and Bean to
Shoot her Majesty 89
CHAPTER VII.
CONVULSIONS IN THE EAST.
Approaches to a Great Tragedy--State of Afghanistan--Position
of Dost Mahomed in 1836--Mission of Captain Burnes to Cabul in
1837--Afghanistan, England, and Russia--Determination of the
Governor-General of India to Restore Shah Soojah to the Afghan
Throne--Garbling of Burnes’s Despatches--Action of the Anglo-Indian
Government against the Russians before Herat--British Invasion of
Afghanistan in 1839--Difficulties, Dangers, and Successes of the
Campaign--Cold Reception of Shah Soojah at Cabul--Operations in
the Khyber Pass--Outbreak of Insurrections against the Restored
Power--Actions with the British--Surrender of Dost Mahomed--Increased
Turmoil among the Afghans--Massacre of November 2nd, 1841--Imbecility
of General Elphinstone--Murder of Sir William Macnaghten--Agreement
between the British Authorities and Akbar Khan--Retreat of the Army
of Occupation--Horrors of the March, and Complete Destruction of
the Army--Defence of Jelalabad by Sir Robert Sale--Operations of
Generals Nott, Pollock, and Sale--Capture of Cabul--Release of the
Prisoners, and Close of the War--Lord Ellenborough and the Gates of
Somnauth--Murder of Stoddart and Conolly in Bokhara--Disturbed State
of England in 1842--The Queen’s First Visit to Scotland--Receipt
of Good News from the East--Position of Prince Albert towards
the State--Discretion of his Private Life--Extent of his
Labours--Colonisation in New Zealand and New South Wales 111
CHAPTER VIII.
THE ADMINISTRATION OF SIR ROBERT PEEL.
Renewed Popularity of the Queen--Services of Prince Albert--A
Volunteer Poet Laureate--Birth of the Princess Alice--The Whig
Deficit, and how Sir Robert Peel Dealt with It--The Income Tax,
and Reduction of Duties--The Sliding Scale--Advance of Free Trade
Principles--Assassination of Mr. Drummond--The Question of Criminal
Insanity--Sir Robert Peel and Mr. Cobden--Disturbances in South
Wales: “Rebecca” and her Daughters--Condition of Women in Mines and
Collieries--Lord Ashley and the Factories Act--Opinion of the Queen
and Prince Albert on the Qualities of Sir Robert Peel--Levees held by
the Prince--The Frescoes for the Houses of Parliament--Encouragement
of Fresco-Painting by the Queen and Prince Albert--The Summer House in
the Gardens of Buckingham Palace--Visit of her Majesty and the Prince
to Louis Philippe at the Château d’Eu--The Duke of Wellington on the
Necessity for a Council of Regency--Designs of France on the Succession
to the Spanish Throne--Dishonest Engagement of the French King--English
Opinion completely Misled--Royal Visits to Belgium, to Cambridge, and
to the Midlands--The Prince as a Fox-hunter--Model Farming--Events in
India: Wars in Scinde and Gwalior 131
CHAPTER IX.
IRELAND, RUSSIA, AND FRANCE.
O’Connell and the Agitation for Repeal of the Union--Early Life of the
Agitator--Character of his Oratory--Question as to the Purity of his
Motives--The “Repeal Year” (1843)--Methods by which O’Connell worked on
Irish Opinion--Open-air Gatherings on the Repeal Question--Extravagant
Speeches of O’Connell--Crowning of the Liberator on the Hill of
Tara--Prohibition of a Proposed Meeting at Clontarf--Arrest of the
Chief Agitators--Trial, Condemnation, and Sentences--The Convictions
Annulled by the House of Lords--Release of O’Connell, and Final Years
of his Life--Effect of the Prosecution on the Government of Sir
Robert Peel--Death of Prince Albert’s Father--Visit of the Prince
to Saxe-Coburg-Gotha--His Presents to the Queen on her Birthday
(1844)--Visits of the King of Saxony and the Emperor of Russia to
England--Appearance and Manners of the Emperor--Political Objects of
Nicholas in Visiting London--His Designs on Turkey--Memorandum of
Agreement between the Czar and the English Government--Jealousy on the
Part of the French--Ministerial Crisis in the Summer of 1844--Sir James
Graham and the Opening of Letters at the Post Office--Disagreement
with France with Respect to the Island of Tahiti--The Pritchard
Affair--Queen Pomare and Queen Victoria--Anxieties of the English Court
as to the Maintenance of Peace--The Ashburton Treaty with the United
States 151
CHAPTER X.
DAYS OF PEACEFUL DEVELOPMENT AND PROGRESS.
Visit of the Prince of Prussia to England--Christening of Prince Alfred
at Windsor Castle--Second Visit to the Highlands in the Autumn of
1844--Louis Philippe in England--His Reception at Windsor--Interchange
of Courtesies between English and French Officers--Opening of the
New Royal Exchange by the Queen--Letters of her Majesty and Prince
Albert on the Occasion--Scientific Progress: the Electric Telegraph,
Photography, Lord Rosse’s Telescope, the Thames Tunnel, and Arctic
Exploration--Tractarian Difficulties in the Church--Purchase of
Osborne by the Queen--Visits of her Majesty and the Prince to Stowe
and Strathfieldsaye--Opening of Parliament by the Queen (Feb. 4th,
1845)--Financial Statement of Sir Robert Peel--Reduction and Abolition
of Duties--Acrimonious Debates on the Proposed Queen’s Colleges
in Ireland, and the Increase of the Maynooth Grant--Retirement of
Mr. Gladstone from the Ministry--Admission of Jews to Municipal
Offices--Results of Sir Robert Peel’s Financial Policy--Economy in the
Royal Household--Project for Making Prince Albert King Consort--The
Chief Command of the Army 170
CHAPTER XI.
ENGLAND IN 1845.
Borneo and Sir James Brooke--Cession of Labuan to Great
Britain--“Constitutionalism” in the Sandwich Islands--State of the
Colonies--Unsuccessful Attack on Madagascar--Commencement of the
Overland Route to India--Decline in the Popularity of Sir Robert
Peel--Rise of Mr. Disraeli and the “Young England” Party--Generous
Support of Peel by the Queen and Prince Albert--Offer of the Garter
to Sir Robert, which he Declines--Position of the Premier towards
the Aristocracy--Increasing Weakness of the Government--Dangerous
State of Ireland--Prince Albert on the Political Situation--Visit of
the Queen to Belgium and Prussia--Splendid Reception in the latter
Country--Speech of the King of Prussia at Bonn--The Illuminations
at Cologne--Prince Albert and Baron von Humboldt--Reception of
the Royal Visitors in Bavaria, at Coburg, and at Gotha--The Queen
at the Native Place of her Husband--Excursion to the Thuringian
Forest--Other Incidents of the German Visit--Second Visit of the Queen
and Prince Albert to Louis Philippe at the Château d’Eu--Duplicity
of the King--Return of the Royal Party to England--Spread of
Railway Enterprise in Great Britain--The Railway Mania and Panic of
1845-6--Increasing Strength of the Free Trade Movement--The Potato
Disease in Ireland--Threatenings of Famine--Sir Robert Peel and Free
Trade--Letter of Lord John Russell to the Electors of the City of
London--Ministerial Crisis--Return of Sir Robert Peel to Power 187
CHAPTER XII.
THE MINISTRY OF RENUNCIATION.
The _Times_ Reveals a Secret of State--Mr. Sidney Herbert and Mrs.
Norton and the _Times_--A Court Scandal--Peel’s Resignation--Lord
John Russell’s Failure to Form a Ministry--Peel Resumes Office--The
Ministry and the Queen--The Duke of Wellington and Peel--Disintegration
of the Tory Party--Croker’s Correspondence with Wellington--Peel’s
Instructions to the _Quarterly Review_--A Betrayed Editor--Peel
and the Princess Lieven--Guizot’s Defence of Peel--The Queen’s
Conduct in the Great Crisis--How she Strengthened the Position of
the Crown--Her Popular Sympathies--Why Peel Changed his Policy--The
Potato Rot--Impending Famine--Distress in England--The Campaign of the
Free Traders--Scenes at their Meetings--The Protectionist Agitation
and the Agricultural Labourers--Sufferings of the Poor--The Duke of
Norfolk’s Curry Powder--Meeting at Wootton Bassett--The Queen and the
Sufferers 205
CHAPTER XIII.
THE FREE TRADE PARLIAMENT.
Opening of Parliament in 1846--The Queen’s Speech--The Debate on the
Address--Sir Robert Peel’s Statement--Mr. Disraeli’s Philippics--Bishop
Wilberforce on Peel’s Reception by the House of Commons--Peel’s
Mistake--Lord George Bentinck’s Attack on Prince Albert--The Queen’s
Explanations--The Court and the Peelites--The Corn Bill in the House of
Lords--Lord Stanley’s Political Dinner-Party--The Duke of Wellington
and the Peers--Triumph in the Lords and Defeat in the Commons--Peel’s
Coercion Bill for Ireland--A Factious Opposition--Fall of the
Government--Their Policy in India--War in the Punjab--Victories over
the Sikhs--The Oregon Controversy and its Settlement--Lord Aberdeen’s
Adroit Diplomacy--Resignation of the Ministry--The Queen’s Farewell
to Peel--Her Suggestion of a Coalition--Wellington and Cobden Advise
Peel to Dissolve--Reasons for his Refusal--The Queen and the Duke of
Wellington--The Duke’s Letter to Lord John Russell--Lyndhurst and
Reconstruction--Disintegration of the Tory Party--The Peelites in
Opposition--A Hint from Aristophanes--Tory Persecution of Peel 220
CHAPTER XIV.
THE FIRST RUSSELL ADMINISTRATION.
The Transfer of Ministerial Offices--The Whigs Patronise Mr. Cobden--A
Radical in the New Cabinet--The Peelites Refuse to Take Office--Lord
Campbell as Chancellor of the Duchy--Anecdote of his Installation--Lord
John Russell’s Deportment to the Queen--His Modest Programme--The
Abolition of the Sugar Duties--Bishop Wilberforce and Slave-grown
Sugar--Outrages in Ireland--The Whigs become Coercionists--Their Arms
Act--Mutiny among Ministerialists--The Bill Dropped--The Alternative
Policy--Relief Works for Ireland--A Military Scandal--Indiscretion in
the Country--Abuse of Corporal Punishment in the Army--“The Cat” in the
House of Commons--The Queen’s Views on Military Punishment--The Queen
and a Deserter’s Death-Warrant--Captain Layard’s Motion--The Duke of
Wellington’s Interference--Restrictions on the Use of the Lash--England
and the Colonies--Canada and Free Trade--Nova Scotia and the Potato
Famine--The Halifax, Quebec, and Montreal Railway--The New Zealand
War--The Caffre War--The Expedition to Borneo--End of the Anglo-Chinese
Difficulty--The “Spanish Marriages” and the Treaty of Utrecht--Louis
Philippe’s Intrigues with the Queen Dowager Christina--Secret History
of the Conspiracy--M. Guizot’s Pretext--How the English Minister
at Madrid was Deceived--Lord Palmerston’s Indiscreet Despatch--The
Queen’s Cutting Letter to the Queen Marie Amélie--Metternich’s Caustic
Epigram--Prince Albert’s Resentment against the King of the French--End
of the Anglo French Alliance--Fall of the Republic of Cracow 244
CHAPTER XV.
HOME LIFE AND SOCIAL EVENTS IN 1846.
Prince Albert and the Home Farm--Royalty and the Windsor Vestry--The
New Home at Osborne--The Birth of the Princess Helena--The Visit of
Ibrahim Pasha--A Royal Christening--The Queen’s Loneliness--Visitors
at Osborne--A Cruise in Summer Seas--The “Lop” of the Channel--In the
Channel Islands--The Duke of Cornwall in his Duchy--Exploring the
South Coast--The Queen Acts as the Family Tutor--Her Majesty among the
Iron-miners--The House-warming at Osborne--Baron Stockmar’s Impressions
of the Queen--Some German Visitors--A Dinner-Party at Windsor--The
Baroness Bunsen’s Picture of the Scene--The Royal Visits to Hatfield
and Arundel--Social Movements in 1846--Origin of Secularism--Dr.
Hook’s Pamphlet on Education--The Triumphs of Science--Faraday’s
Researches--The Use of Ether in Surgery--Laying of the First Submarine
Cable at Portsmouth--Evil Tidings from Starving Ireland 259
CHAPTER XVI.
A DISTRESSFUL COUNTRY.
The Irish Crisis--Famine and Free Trade--Evictions and Imports--Fiscal
Policy and Small Holdings--Shocking Scenes among the Irish People--The
Mistake of the Government--Lord John Russell’s Relief Measure
Rejected by his Colleagues--An Autumnal Cabinet Meeting--Opening of
Parliament--The Queen and the Distress--The Remedial Measures of
the Government--Rival Schemes of the Protectionists--Lord George
Bentinck’s Railway Subsidies Bill--A Rival Ministerial Scheme--The
Attack on the Bank Act of 1844--The Currency Controversy--Peel on a
Convertible Currency--The Effect of the Railway Mania--Blaming the
Bank--The Education Question--Opposition of Dissenters--Colonisation
and Emigration--Lord Lincoln’s Motion--Is Emigration a Remedy
for a Redundant Population?--The Cabinet and the Ten Hours
Bill--Mr. Fielden’s Victory--Opposition of Manufacturers--Evading
the Act--The Budget--The Queen and the Duchy of Lancaster--Lord
Campbell and the Queen--A Famous Duchy Dinner--Privy Councillors
at “High Jinks”--Death of Lord Bessborough--Lord Clarendon
Appointed Irish Viceroy--Death of O’Connell--Growing Weakness of
the Cabinet--Prorogation of Parliament--Dissolution--The General
Election--The State of Parties--Appalling Outrages in Ireland--Another
Commercial Panic--Suspension of the Bank Act--The Queen and Sir Robert
Peel--Parliament Summoned--A Coercion Bill for Ireland--Ireland
and the Vatican--Lord Palmerston’s Correspondence with Lord
Minto--Denunciations of the Queen’s Colleges--Projected Renewal of
Diplomatic Relations with Rome--Lord Palmerston’s Objections--The
Jews in Parliament--New Bishops--The Hampden Controversy--Baffled
Heresy-hunters 272
CHAPTER XVII.
THE COURT AND FOREIGN AFFAIRS.
Lord George Bentinck’s Imprudence--French Intrigues in
Portugal--England and the Junta--A Vulgar Suspicion--The Duke
of Wellington and National Defences--The Duke’s Threatened
Resignation--The Queen Soothes Him--Famine in the Queen’s
Kitchen--Royal Hospitalities--The Queen’s Country Dance--A German
Impostor--Discovery of Chloroform--The Royal Visit to Cambridge--Prince
Albert’s Installation as Chancellor of the University--Awkward
Dons--Anecdotes of the Queen at Cambridge--Royalty and Heraldry--The
Visit to Scotland--Highland Loyalty--A Desolate Retreat--Politics and
Sport at Ardverikie--A New Departure in Foreign Policy--Lord Minto’s
Mission--The Queen’s Views--Prince Albert’s Caution to Lord John
Russell--The Queen’s Amusements at Ardverikie--A Regretful Adieu--Home
Again 301
CHAPTER XVIII.
REVOLUTION.
At Osborne--Beginnings of Revolution--The Reform Banquets in
Paris--Lola Montes and the King of Bavaria--Downfall of Louis
Philippe’s Government--Flight of the King--Establishment of the
Second Republic--The Queen and the Orleans Family--The Chartist
Movement--Its Secret History--Its Leaders--The Queen Retreats to
Osborne--The Chartist Meeting at Kennington--London in Terror--The
Duke of Wellington’s Precautions--Abortive Risings at Bonner’s
Fields and in Seven Dials--Riots in the Large Towns--Collapse of
Chartism--Ireland and the “Young Irelanders”--The Rebellion of
“’48”--The Battle of the Cabbage Garden--Arrest of Smith O’Brien and
the “Young Ireland” Leaders--Austria and Prussia in Anarchy--Flight
of Metternich--The Berlin Mob and the King--Anxiety of the English
Court--The Queen’s Correspondence with her Half-Sister--The
Anglo-Spanish Quarrel--Sir H. Bulwer Expelled from Madrid--The Queen’s
Indignation at Lord Palmerston--Conversation between the Queen and Lord
John Russell--Palmerston’s Victory--The “Three Budget” Session--The
Anti-Income-Tax Agitation--Blundering in Finance--“Scenes” in
Parliament--Irish and Colonial Controversies--The Encumbered Estates
Act--Repressive Legislation--Dawn of the Reform Agitation 322
CHAPTER XIX.
AT WORK AND PLAY.
The Queen’s Administrative Work--The Condition-of-England Question--The
Court and the Working Classes--Royal Plans for Ameliorating the Lot
of Labour--Threatened Attacks on the Queen--The Demagogues Abashed--A
Royal-Hearted Speech--The Queen’s Private Correspondence--A Pension
Fund for the Working Classes--Pauperism among Domestic Servants--Prince
Albert’s Relief Plan--The Court at Osborne--Birth and Christening of
the Princess Louise--Removal to Balmoral--The Queen at Kirk--A Royal
Geologist--Sir Charles Lyell’s Anecdotes of the Royal Family--An
Accident in the Solent--Prince Albert as a University Reformer--Death
of Lord Melbourne and Lord George Bentinck 357
CHAPTER XX.
DISCONTENTED DEPENDENCIES.
Reaction in England in 1849--Attacks in Parliament on the Queen’s
Speech--Gagging Parliament--The Last Dying Struggle of the
Protectionists--Repeal of the Navigation Laws--The Tory Attack on the
Bishops--Protectionist Plans for Reducing Local Taxation--Coercion for
Ireland--Peel’s Generosity to the Whigs Explained--Irish Mendicity and
English Grants in Aid--A Policy of Pauperism and Doles--Small Minds in
a Great Crisis--Peel’s Comprehensive Plan for Relieving Ireland--The
Break-down of the Poor Law--The Queen and the Irish Landlords--Prince
Albert’s Project for Reforming the Irish Poor Rate--Scandals at the
Colonial Office--Ceylon--Demerara and Canada--The Loyal Rebels of
Canada--Riots in Montreal--Attacks on Lord Elgin--An Examination
and Defence of his Policy--The Test of Results--“Be Just and Fear
Not” 371
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGE
Portrait of the Queen (Woodbury Process) _Frontispiece_
Distant View of Windsor Castle 1
The Royal Arms _ib._
West Front of Kensington Palace 4
King William IV. 5
Claremont 8
Death of the Duke of Kent: Presenting the Commons’
Address of Condolence to the Duchess
at Kensington Palace 9
Queen Caroline’s Drawing-Room, Kensington
Palace 12
Queen Adelaide 13
The Duke of Kent 16
The Queen’s First Council (_After the Painting by
Sir David Wilkie._) 17
Cowes Harbour 18
Gateway of St. James’s Palace 20
Queen Victoria at the Time of her Accession 21
Lord Melbourne 24
Proclamation of the Queen at St. James’s Palace 25
Banquet to the Queen in the Guildhall (November
9, 1837) 29
President Van Buren 33
The Earl of Durham 36
The Throne-Room, Buckingham Palace 37
The Coronation Chair, Westminster Abbey 40
The Coronation of the Queen (_After the Painting
by Sir George Hayter_) 41
The Queen Receiving the Sacrament at her Coronation
(_After the Painting by C. R. Leslie,
R.A._) _To face_ 44
The Duchess of Kent 45
Newark Castle 48
Mr. Disraeli in his Youth (_After the Portrait by
Maclise_) 49
The Council Chamber, St. James’s Palace 53
Coburg (_After a Sketch by Prince Albert_) 57
Prince Albert 61
The Marquis of Lansdowne 64
Interior of the Chapel Royal, St. James’s 65
Courtyard of St. James’s Palace 68
Duke Ernest, of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, Prince Albert’s
Brother 69
Marriage of Queen Victoria (_After the Painting
by Sir George Hayter, R.A._) _To face_ 70
Buckingham Palace: Garden Front 73
Prince Albert’s Music-Room, Buckingham Palace 76
Mr. (afterwards Sir) Rowland Hill 77
Reception of the Queen in Hyde Park after the
News of Oxford’s Attempt on her Life 81
Christening of the Princess Royal (_After the Painting
by C. R. Leslie, R.A._) 85
Richard Cobden 88
Hatfield House 92
The Queen at the Launch of the _Trafalgar_ 93
Sir Robert Peel 96
Magdalen College, Oxford, from the Cherwell 97
John Keble 100
John Henry Newman _ib._
St. Mary’s, from the High Street, Oxford 101
King Leopold 104
St. George’s Chapel, Windsor 105
Ambassadors’ Court, St. James’s Palace 108
Costume Ball in Buckingham Palace 109
Eldred Pottinger at Herat 113
The Khyber Pass 116
Sir Robert and Lady Sale 117
The Remnant of an Army: Arrival of Dr. Brydon
at Jelalabad (_Sketch of the Picture by Mrs.
Butler_) 120
Dost Mahomed 121
Akbar Khan _ib._
Holyrood Palace, Edinburgh 124
The Queen’s Entry into Edinburgh 125
Lord John Russell (_From the Statue by J. E.
Boehm, R.A._) 129
Lobby of the House of Commons 133
“Rebecca” Riot in South Wales 136
Lord Ashley (afterwards Earl of Shaftesbury) 137
Westminster Hall 141
The Queen’s Visit to France 144
The Earl of Aberdeen 145
Prince Albert Hunting near Belvoir Castle _To face_ 147
Chatsworth House, from the South-West 148
Lord Gough (_After the Portrait by Sir Francis
Grant, P.R.A._) 149
Daniel O’Connell 153
The Four Courts, Dublin 156
Old Parliament House, Dublin 157
The Emperor Nicholas 161
Cathedral of St. Isaac, St. Petersburg 164
Joseph Mazzini 165
The Marble Hall, Buckingham Palace 168
The Queen and the Reapers at Blair Castle 169
Reception of Louis Philippe at Windsor Castle 173
Burleigh House, Stamford 176
Osborne, Isle of Wight 180
The Duke of Wellington at Windsor Castle 181
Maynooth College 184
Lord Lyndhurst 185
Favourite Dogs (_After Etchings by the Queen_) 186
The Overland Route: Scene at Boulak 189
View in Malines 193
The Queen and Prince Albert at the Children’s
Fête in Coburg on St. Gregory’s Day 196
The Castle of the Wartburg 200
George Wilson, Chairman of the Anti-Corn-Law
League 201
The Houses of Parliament 205
The Irish Famine: Starving Peasants at a Work-house
Gate 208
Lord George Bentinck 209
The Deputation from London and Dublin Corporations
before the Queen 213
Meeting of Agricultural Labourers at Wootton
Bassett 217
Dog’s Head (_Drawn and Etched by the Prince
Consort_) 219
The Queen Opening Parliament in 1846 _To face_ 220
Opening of Parliament in 1846: Arrival of the
Royal Procession at the House of Lords 221
St. Stephen’s Cloisters, Westminster Hall 224
Lord Stanley (afterwards Earl of Derby) 225
Sir James Graham 228
View in Oregon: the Columbia River and Mount
Hood 229
The British Army Crossing the Sutlej 232
The Battle of Ferozeshah 233
Sir Henry Hardinge 236
The Rival Pages (_Reduced Facsimile after
Punch_) 237
Lord Campbell 240
The Horseguards, from the Parade Ground 241
Lord Macaulay 245
Pardoned: the Queen and the Deserter’s Death-Warrant 249
View in New Zealand: New Plymouth and Mount
Egmont 252
View in Canton: the British Consulate 253
The Royal Palace, Madrid 257
Windsor Castle 261
The Queen Visiting a Cornish Iron Mine 264
On the Cornish Coast: Pradanack Point 265
The Municipal Dignitaries of Penryn introduced
to the Prince of Wales _To face_ 266
Arundel (_After the Picture by Vicat Cole, R.A._) 268
Professor Faraday 269
The Lakes of Killarney 272
Glendalough Valley, Co. Wicklow: View in Glendalough 273
The Irish Famine: Interior of a Peasant’s Hut 276
Lord Brougham (1850) 277
The Bank of England 280
The Queen in the Royal Gallery, St George’s Chapel,
1846 (_After the Portrait by G. E. Dawe_) 281
Joseph Hume 284
The Woods Before the Emigrant: Virgin Forest in
Canada 285
The Lower Ward, Windsor Castle 288
Lord Campbell’s Audience of the Queen 289
The Custom House, Dublin 292
The Grand Staircase, Buckingham Palace 293
Lord Palmerston 296
Queen’s College, Belfast 297
Prince Metternich 304
King’s College, Cambridge, from the “Backs” 305
St John’s College, Cambridge 308
The Prince-Chancellor of Cambridge University
Presenting an Address to the Queen 309
Dr Whewell 312
The Queen in the Woodwardian Museum 313
Falmouth Harbour 316
The Royal Visit to Fingal’s Cave 317
Highland Cottages in Lochaber 321
The Revolution in Paris: Crowds Singing “Mourir
pour la Patrie” 324
Landing of Louis Philippe at Newhaven 325
Bridge and Cattle, Newport, Mon. 328
Joseph Sturge 329
Feargus O’Connor 332
The Chartist Demonstration on Kennington Common 333
Chartist Agitation: the Police Force on Bonner’s
Fields 336
William Smith O’Brien 337
Charles Gavan Duffy (1848) 340
The Irish Rebellion of 1848: Forging Pikes 341
The Exchange and Frederick’s Bridge, Berlin 344
The King of Prussia Addressing the Berliners 345
The Fountain of Cybele, Madrid 348
Baron Stockmar 349
Sir George Grey 353
From an Etching by the Queen 356
The South-East Corridor, Windsor Castle 357
Thomas Carlyle (_After the Medallion by T. Woolner,
1855_) 360
Christening of the Princess Louise in Buckingham
Palace Chapel 361
View in Lochnagar 364
Professor Anderson at Balmoral 365
Prince Albert Deer-Stalking in the Highlands _To face_ 320
The Old Bridge, Invercauld 368
The Victoria Tower, Westminster Palace 369
Demonstration of Sailors in Favour of the Navigation
Laws 372
The Earl of Clarendon, Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland 373
Interior of the House of Commons 376
Lord Elgin, Governor-General of Canada 377
Riots in Montreal: Lord Elgin Stoned by the Mob 380
Riots in Montreal: Burning of the House of
Assembly 381
Old French House, Quebec 384
[Illustration: DISTANT VIEW OF WINDSOR CASTLE.]
THE
LIFE AND TIMES OF QUEEN VICTORIA.
CHAPTER I.
EARLY YEARS OF THE PRINCESS VICTORIA.
A Remarkable Visit to Kensington Palace--Death of King William
IV.--Details of his Last Days--Parliamentary Eulogies on his
Character--Progress in the Last Half-Century--Ancestry of Queen
Victoria--Her Descent traced to Odoacer, King of Italy--Saxon
Ancestors of her Majesty--Liberal Views of the Duke of Kent, Father
of the Queen--State of the Succession after the Death of the
Princess Charlotte--Marriage of the Duke of Kent, and Birth of the
Princess Victoria--Christening at Kensington Palace--The name
“Victoria,” and its Associations--Death of the Duke of
Kent--Kensington Palace in the Seventeenth and Eighteenth
Centuries--Early Training of Victoria by her Mother--Child-life of
the Princess--False Rumours of Ill-health--Anecdotes of Juvenile
Years--The Princess and George IV.--Accession of William IV.--The
Regency Bill--Prince Leopold and the Throne of Belgium--Studies of
the Princess--Her Life of Retirement--Home Tours in Various Parts
of England--Visit to the Cotton Mills of the Messrs. Strutt at
Belper--Reception at Oxford and at Southampton--Benevolence to an
Actress--Her Royal Highness declared of Age on the 24th of May,
1837.
[Illustration: THE ROYAL ARMS.]
In the dawn of June 20th, 1837, immediately after the death of King
William IV., the Archbishop of Canterbury (Dr. Howley) and the Lord
Chamberlain (the Marquis of Conyngham) left Windsor for Kensington, to
convey the tidings to his late Majesty’s successor. They reached the
Palace about five o’clock in the morning, and knocked, rang, and beat at
the doors several times before they could obtain admission. When at
length the porter was aroused, the visitors were shown into one of the
lower rooms, where a long time passed without any attention being paid
them. Growing impatient, they rang the bell (as we read in the
interesting narrative of Miss Wynn), and desired that the attendant on
the Princess Victoria might be sent to inform her Royal Highness that
they requested an audience on business of importance. Another long delay
ensued, and again the bell was rung, that some explanation might be
given of the difficulty which appeared to exist. On the Princess’s
attendant making her appearance, she declared that her Royal Highness
was in so sweet a sleep that she could not venture to disturb her. It
was now evident that stronger measures must be taken, and one of the
visitors said, “We have come on business of State to the _Queen_, and
even her sleep must give way to that.” The attendant disappeared, and a
few minutes afterwards the young sovereign came into the room in a loose
white robe and shawl, her fair hair falling over her shoulders, her feet
in slippers, her eyes dim with tears, but her aspect perfectly calm and
dignified.[1] Lord Melbourne, the Prime Minister, was at once sent for,
and arrived at nine o’clock, when, after an interview of half an hour
with the Queen, he addressed himself to a rapid study of the ceremonials
to be observed at the approaching Privy Council. Some time after, the
Lord Mayor and other members of the Corporation reached the Palace, and
the chief members of the Privy Council soon thronged the rooms.
Although the final illness of the late King had been rather brief,
William had for some time been in declining health, and the nation had
only to hope that his life would be prolonged until his niece, the
Princess Victoria, had attained an age which could be regarded as
constituting her majority. This had occurred on the 24th of the previous
month, when the Princess completed her eighteenth year, which had been
declared by Act of Parliament to be sufficient. William IV. was a man of
very moderate abilities; but a certain simplicity and geniality of
character had secured for him the regard and respect of the people, and
had carried him through the revolutionary epoch of the Reform Bill with
no great loss of popularity, even at a time when he was supposed to be
unfriendly to the measure. For the last two years he had ceased to take
any interest in the political tendencies of the day, while discharging
the routine duties of his high office with conscientious regularity.
Brought up in the midst of totally different ideas, he could not, at his
time of life, accommodate himself to the flood of novel principles which
had recently set in, and which he was equally unable to accept and
powerless to resist. The result was that, as a well-qualified observer
records, “he submitted to what he could not help, but evidently with a
sense of weariness.”[2] In the previous April he had been distressed by
the death of his eldest daughter, Lady de Lisle, and of the
Duchess-Dowager of Saxe-Meiningen, mother of Queen Adelaide. Great
physical prostration ensued shortly afterwards, and by June it was
evident that the end could not be far distant. His Majesty was attended
by the Queen with the most affectionate devotion; but the weakness
steadily increased, and soon reached a fatal termination.
Owing to the state of the King’s health, the Duke of Wellington proposed
to dispense with the usual Waterloo Banquet at Apsley House; but on the
17th of June the dying monarch sent a message to the illustrious
Field-Marshal, desiring that the occasion should be observed in the
customary manner, and wishing the host and guests a pleasant day. On the
anniversary of the great battle (the 18th), the Duke transmitted to
Windsor, in accordance with the prescribed form, the banner by the
presentation of which he held his estates. Lord Muncaster presented it
to the King, who, raising himself up, grasped the folds of the flag, and
exclaimed, “Ah! that was a glorious day for England!”[3] The eulogies
pronounced in Parliament on the character of the deceased sovereign may
have been somewhat affected by the conventional or official tone
inseparable from such utterances; but they probably contain a fair
amount of truth, with no more than the usual omissions. The disposition
of William IV. was certainly superior to that of his brother George; and
the country recognised the difference with the true instinct of a free
people.
The Modern Age, in its most distinctive developments, is almost coeval
with the reign of his successor. It is true that the Railway service had
already begun; but it was still in its infancy when Queen Victoria
ascended the throne, and had not yet effected any great revolution in
the sentiments or habits of society. The Electric Telegraph, though
fully born in the brains of scientific speculators, had received no
practical application. Steam and machinery had still to achieve some of
their greatest triumphs. The Postal system of those days seems barbarian
to our modern eyes. The Newspaper Press was an insignificant force
compared with what it is at the present day. Education, in the popular
sense, hardly existed. Nation with nation held but little intercourse,
and the prejudices of Englishmen were scarcely less gross than they had
been in the days of Hogarth. Manners were far more coarse and brutal
than they are now; the laws were more complicated and uncertain; social
order was less secure; the arts had not attained so wide and general a
culture; medicine, surgery, chemistry, geology, and other sciences, were
less cultivated; taste was less diffused and less instructed; the
luxuries, and even the comforts, of domestic life were almost unknown to
the poorer classes; and political power was held by only a small
proportion of the community. The England of 1837 was so different from
the England we now behold, that the “Pickwick Papers,” belonging to that
date, require explanatory notes for the benefit of a younger generation.
The history of these vast changes--in which the personal character and
influence of her Majesty have had no small share--must be of the deepest
interest to all thinking men; and it is this history which we propose to
relate.
ALEXANDRINA VICTORIA, Queen of Great Britain and Ireland, and Empress of
India, was born at Kensington Palace on the 24th of May, 1819. She is
the daughter of Edward, Duke of Kent, fourth son of King George III.;
and her mother was Victoria Mary Louisa, daughter of his Serene Highness
Francis, Duke of Saxe-Coburg-Saalfeld. The Duke of Kent was the second
husband of this lady, who in 1802 had married Charles Louis, Prince of
[Illustration: WEST FRONT OF KENSINGTON PALACE.]
Leiningen--an ill-assorted match, productive of no happiness. The second
marriage took place in 1818; but the Duke of Kent died in less than two
years. Her Majesty’s descent is very illustrious. It may be traced
(conjecturally, at least) up to Odoacer, a warlike chief of the Heruli,
who, after defeating the forces of Romulus Augustulus, the last Roman
Emperor of the West, in the year 476 of the Christian era, disputed the
kingdom of Italy with Theodoric the Ostrogoth. One of the supposed
descendants of Odoacer was Boniface, Count of Lucca and Duke of Tuscany,
who lived in the early part of the ninth century, and from whom sprang
Alberto Azzo II., Marquis of Italy and Lord of Este, who, in the first
half of the eleventh century, married Cunegonda, of the House of Guelph,
by whom he had Guelph, Duke of Bavaria, the ancestor of the House of
Brunswick, and consequently of the present Royal Family of Great
Britain, who are called Este-Guelphs. According to some accounts,
however, the Guelphs are derived from a younger brother of Odoacer,
whose son, Olfigandus, held a command in the army of Belisarius. But in
truth
[Illustration: KING WILLIAM IV.]
these matters lie beyond verification, and are interesting only as
affording a shadowy link between the present and the past.
One of the most famous ancestors of the Duchess of Kent, and therefore
of Queen Victoria herself, was Frederick the Wise, Elector of Saxony in
the early years of the sixteenth century, who ranks among the first
converts to Protestantism, and who befriended Luther when that great
reformer stood in peril of his life. The Prince Consort was likewise
descended from the same family, and the Queen’s children are thus doubly
connected with one of the most distinguished German houses of the
fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. In later times, various members of
the Saxon family have shown their prowess as warriors, or their capacity
as rulers; but the father of the Duchess of Kent, the Duke of
Saxe-Coburg-Saalfeld, was a man of pacific inclinations and retiring
habits, with a taste for the fine arts. The Duke of Kent was remarkable
as a generous supporter of popular government--even to an extreme
bordering on democratic ideas--at a time when the Court and the ruling
classes were fanatically enthusiastic on the Tory side. Tall and
striking in aspect, trained to military service, irreproachable in
private life, and exact in all his business habits, the Duke of Kent
inherited the manly and sedate qualities of his father, George III.,
while superadding to them a breadth of intellect to which the King
himself could advance no claim. As a commander in the British army, his
Royal Highness incurred some temporary disfavour by his strictness as a
disciplinarian; but this was afterwards removed by the liberal character
of his political views. At a banquet, during which he replied to the
toast of “The Junior Members of the Royal Family,” he said:--“I am a
friend of civil and religious liberty, all the world over. I am an enemy
to all religious tests. I am a supporter of a general system of
education. All men are my brethren; and I hold that power is delegated
only for the benefit of the people. These are the principles of myself,
and of my beloved brother, the Duke of Sussex. They are not popular
principles just now; that is, they do not conduct to place or office.
_All_ the members of the Royal Family do not hold the same principles.
For this I do not blame them; but we claim for ourselves the right of
thinking and acting as we think best.”
Like some of the other Royal Princes, the Duke of Kent refrained from
marriage until after the death of the Princess Charlotte, on the 6th of
November, 1817. That ill-fated lady--the only child of the Prince
Regent, afterwards George IV.--had been married, on the 2nd of May,
1816, to Prince Leopold, third son of the Duke of Saxe-Coburg, and
brother of the Princess who was subsequently united to the Duke of Kent,
and became the mother of our Queen. Leopold (who, several years later,
was chosen King of the Belgians) was distinguished, from his earliest
maturity to his latest days, by high character and distinguished
abilities; and the English people hoped much from a union which seemed
to promise so fairly. But, unhappily, the Princess Charlotte died in
childbed; and, as the infant was still-born, the succession to the
throne was left in a very precarious state. Accordingly, in the
following year (1818), the Duke of Clarence, third son of George III.,
and afterwards William IV., the Duke of Kent, fourth son, and the Duke
of Cambridge, seventh son, contracted nuptial alliances; but that of the
Duke of Clarence, the elder brother of the Duke of Kent, was unattended
by any issue that survived, so that the Princess Victoria soon became
heiress-presumptive to the crown of Great Britain.
For some time after their marriage, the Duke and Duchess of Kent resided
abroad, chiefly from motives of economy, the allowance of the former
being restricted within narrow limits by the servile Parliament of that
day, owing to his political independence. In view, however, of an
expected event, the Royal couple returned to England in the latter part
of April, 1819, so that their child should be “born a Briton;” and, as
we have said, the future Queen of England drew her first breath on the
24th of May. The Duke of Kent had been long estranged from his brother,
the Prince Regent; but a reconciliation took place shortly after the
birth of the Princess Victoria. The infant was christened on the 24th of
June at Kensington Palace, where she had been born; on which occasion,
the gold font was brought from the Tower, and the draperies were removed
from the Chapel Royal, St. James’s. Chief among the sponsors were the
Prince Regent and the Emperor Alexander of Russia, the latter
represented by the Duke of York. It was in compliment to the Czar that
the infant Princess received Alexandrina as her first name. In
subsequent years, however, this Russianised Greek appellation was wisely
abandoned, as unfamiliar and unwelcome to English ears, and the far
nobler-sounding “Victoria” took its place. The second name, now famous
throughout the world, is of course pure Latin, and no more native to our
race than Alexandrina. But in a certain sense we are all Latins--we of
the West of Europe; and the accents of the Imperial tongue are familiar
to our ears. The meaning and sound of “Victoria,” moreover, are
strikingly appropriate to the sovereign of a great Empire; and the omen
has, on the whole, been happily fulfilled under the sceptre of her
Majesty, not merely in the triumphs of war, but also in the victories of
peace.
It is not generally known, that, so far as can be inferred from
imperfect and obscure records, a monarch bearing the name of Victoria
once before held sway in Britain. During the general weakness of the
Roman Empire in the second half of the third century, several of the
provinces detached themselves from the central authority, and for a
while established separate governments. Spain, Gaul, and Britain formed
a western realm of immense extent, the capital of which was at Trèves,
on the Moselle, then a city of Gallia Belgica; and the sovereignty of
this varied region passed in time to an ambitious and energetic woman
named Victoria. She is mentioned in the great work of Gibbon; yet little
is known of her acts or character. It is probable that she was a
resolute and capable despot; but she appears in history as a name, and
little else.
For the brief remainder of his life, the Duke of Kent dwelt principally
at Claremont, which, but a short time before, had been the residence of
the Princess Charlotte and Prince Leopold, and which was rendered sadly
memorable by the death of the former. But the unusually severe winter of
1819-20 induced the Duke and Duchess to visit Sidmouth, for the sake of
the mild climate of Southern Devonshire. At Salisbury Cathedral, to
which he made an excursion during the frosty weather, the Duke caught a
slight cold, which, after his return to Sidmouth, became serious, owing,
it would seem, to neglect and imprudence. According to the medical
custom of those days, the patient was copiously bled, and not improbably
owed his death to the exhaustion thus occasioned. He expired on the
23rd of January, 1820, in his fifty-third year; and so small were his
means that he left the Duchess and the Princess totally devoid of
maintenance. Such was the statement made long afterwards by Leopold of
Saxe-Coburg, who was with his sister during the days of her trial and
bereavement. Soon after the fatal event, the Prince accompanied the
widowed lady to London, where addresses of condolence were voted by both
Houses of Parliament. The address of the Commons was presented by Lords
Morpeth and Clive, when the Duchess of Kent
[Illustration: CLAREMONT.]
appeared with the infant Princess in her arms. The scene was one of the
chambers in Kensington Palace; and that historic building can scarcely
have witnessed a more affecting interview.
The edifice in which Queen Victoria passed most of her early years, and
which yet attracts the interest both of Englishmen and Americans, dates,
as a palace, from the time of William III., though, at a rather earlier
period, the Finches, Earls of Nottingham, had a mansion on the same
spot, of which a small portion is believed to be still existent. The
second Earl of Nottingham sold the house and grounds to the illustrious
Dutchman who came to rescue us from the Pope and the Stuarts; and his
Majesty caused additions to be made to the building by the greatest
English architect of that time--Sir Christopher Wren. Successive
[Illustration: DEATH OF THE DUKE OF KENT: PRESENTING THE COMMONS’
ADDRESS OF CONDOLENCE TO THE DUCHESS AT KENSINGTON PALACE. (_See p.
8._)]
sovereigns, down to George II., still further enlarged the domicile and
the grounds; and, for sixty years of the eighteenth century, Kensington
Palace was the most brilliant and courtly place in London. All the
nobles, statesmen, wits, and beauties of the age assembled in its
saloons, or paraded in its gardens. Many are the anecdotes (scandalous
and otherwise) connected with this royal home; but there are pleasanter
associations too. Tickell, one of the minor _literati_ of the period
which we associate with Queen Anne, though it extended into the reigns
of George I. and his successor, wrote a pretty fairy tale, in verse, in
connection with Kensington Gardens; and Pope may have studied in that
courtly enclosure the belles and fops of his “Rape of the Lock.” In the
Palace itself, Death was a frequent visitor, as he must be in houses
which survive several generations. William III. and Queen Mary, Queen
Anne, Prince George of Denmark, and King George II., all died within its
walls; and then came an eclipse. The sedate and formal residence, with
its stately gardens, fell out of favour with George III., though it is
not easy to say why, since his own character inclined him to the formal
and sedate. All the glancing lights of wit and beauty faded from its
rooms; and, by the earlier years of the present century, the Palace had
acquired the sombre and somewhat depressing character inseparable from
all old buildings which have seen better days, and from which the
laughter and the life of earlier times have passed away.
Such were the surroundings amongst which the Princess Victoria was
brought up. They were far from inspiriting; yet they may have helped to
form the character of the future Queen, and to give to it an element of
gravity, not unbecoming the sovereign of countless myriads. The walls of
the apartments were adorned with pictures belonging chiefly to the
Byzantine and early German schools; and these probably did much in
creating a taste for art. The training of the young Princess was
conducted by her mother--a task for which she was admirably qualified.
When the Prince of Leiningen died, in 1814, his widow, afterwards the
Duchess of Kent, was left the guardian of her young sons, and the ruler
of their territory until they came of age. These duties she had
performed in a manner the most exemplary; and she afterwards showed
equal good sense in the education of the Princess Victoria. The child
was taught from her earliest years to rely on exercise and temperance as
the best promoters of health; to devote a reasonable amount of time to
riding and sailing; to be economical, yet charitable; and, while
observing a courteous demeanour towards her inferiors, to keep aloof
from the evil influence of parasites. In early years, it was rather the
moral than the mental nature of the Princess that was cultivated. The
Dowager-Duchess of Coburg wisely wrote to her daughter, in 1823, that it
would be better not to force book-knowledge too soon on one so young;
and this advice appears to have been followed.
As her Royal Highness grew up, however, she was well grounded in
languages, music, and such branches of science as were then thought
suitable to ladies. Her general education was afterwards entrusted to
the Duchess of Northumberland, wife of the third Duke; and the Princess
speedily developed many charming qualities. Living for the most part in
retirement, she was but little known to the outer world; but her
affability made an excellent impression on all with whom she came in
contact. Her character was to some extent influenced by the great
philanthropist, William Wilberforce, whom she saw very frequently.
Several pleasing anecdotes are related of her charity and kindness; and
it is said that in her visits to Ramsgate she was a great favourite with
the bathing-women and other characteristic frequenters of the sands.
When, a little later in life, it became nearly certain that she would
succeed to the throne, owing to the childlessness of her father’s elder
brothers, the Princess emerged more into public view, and took her rides
and walks in places where she could be generally seen. It is said that,
for some years, George IV. treated his sister-in-law and her infant with
marked coldness; but the Duke and Duchess of Clarence--whose own
disappointments, in the failure of offspring, might have furnished some
slight excuse for neglect--showed much kindness to the Duchess of Kent
and the Princess Victoria. This cordial sentiment continued after the
accession of William IV., and the Queen never forgot, in later days, the
respect and affection which she owed to Adelaide.
The early years of the Princess were passed under healthful conditions,
and resulted in the formation of a strong constitution. Nevertheless,
the public were disquieted by rumours to the effect that the daughter of
the Duke of Kent would never attain her majority, or that, at any rate,
if she lived to marry, she would never become the mother of a family. In
proportion as these statements were believed, fears arose that the
succession would pass to the Duke of Cumberland--a prince very generally
disliked for his arrogance, and for faults and vices which may perhaps
have been exaggerated by popular hatred. The connection between the
kingdoms of Great Britain and Hanover--which would have been perpetuated
by the succession of any one of the Princes, but which the existence of
the Salic Law in the latter State rendered incompatible with the
accession of a female sovereign in England--was another contingency
which the people of this country regarded with the utmost distaste. For
these reasons, the false reports concerning the Princess’s health
created no little agitation. But it soon came to the public knowledge
that the unwelcome tidings were wholly false; and it was evident, from
her frequent appearances in the streets and parks, that the
heiress-apparent to the British throne was not likely to die
prematurely.
The studies of the Princess were pursued with a fair amount of
diligence, though her Royal Highness would occasionally show her
independence by refusing to be too closely bound by rules. On one
occasion, she objected to that dull, mechanical practising of notes
which the young learner of the pianoforte has perforce to undergo. She
was told that this was necessary before she could become mistress of the
instrument. “What would you think of me,” she asked, “if I became
mistress at once?” She was told that that would be impossible; there
was no royal road to music. “Oh, there is no royal road to music, eh?”
repeated the Princess. “No royal road? And I am not mistress of my
pianoforte? But I will be, I assure you; and the royal road is
this”--whereupon she closed the piano, locked it, and took out the key.
“There!” she continued, “that’s being mistress of the piano. And the
royal road to learning is never to take a lesson till you’re in the
humour to do it.” This, however, was spoken
[Illustration: QUEEN CAROLINE’S DRAWING-ROOM, KENSINGTON PALACE.]
more out of a sense of fun than from any spirit of opposition; for,
immediately afterwards, her Royal Highness resumed the interrupted
lesson.
The readiness to admit a fault was amusingly shown by a little incident
which occurred during a visit to the seat of Earl Fitzwilliam. The royal
party were walking in the grounds, when the Princess ran on in advance.
One of the under-gardeners pointed out that, owing to recent heavy
rains, a certain walk was very slippery, or, as he expressed it, using a
local term, “very slape.” “Slape! slape!” exclaimed the Princess, in the
style of quick reiteration which characterised the utterance of her
grandfather, George III.; “and pray what is ‘slape’?” The requisite
explanation was given; but the little lady proceeded down the path,
despite all warning, and speedily fell to the ground. Seeing what had
happened, Earl Fitzwilliam called out, “Now your Royal Highness has an
explanation of the term ‘slape,’ both theoretically and practically.”
“Yes, my lord,” she replied, “I think I have. I shall never forget the
word ‘slape.’” Another time, she persisted in playing with a dog against
which she had been cautioned. The animal made a snap at her hand; and
when her cautioner expressed his fears that she had been bitten, she
replied, “Oh, thank you! thank you! You’re right, and I am wrong; but he
didn’t bite me--he only warned me. I shall be careful in future.”[4]
An additional grant of £6,000 a year was made to the Duchess of Kent in
the
[Illustration: QUEEN ADELAIDE.]
early summer of 1825, in order that the Princess Victoria, then six
years of age, might be enabled to live more in accordance with her rank
and prospects. After this period, the King (George IV.) behaved with
greater kindness to his sister-in-law and niece. The latter, however,
was not seen much at court during the remainder of that monarch’s reign;
indeed, her time was mainly occupied by the work of education. It was in
1830--shortly after the death of George IV.--that the Duchess of
Northumberland was appointed, at the suggestion of the new King, to the
office of governess to the Princess; and under her judicious care
considerable progress was soon made. The accession of William IV. to the
throne, on the 26th of June, 1830, placed the Princess Victoria in
direct succession to the British Crown, as the Duke of York had died on
the 5th of January, 1827. It was therefore thought advisable to make
provision for the various contingencies of the future; and accordingly,
towards the close of the year, a Regency Bill was introduced into
Parliament, which provided that Queen Adelaide, in the event of her
giving birth to a posthumous child, should be the guardian of such child
during its minority, and also Regent of the kingdom. If that event did
not occur, the Duchess of Kent was to be Regent during the minority of
her daughter, the Princess Victoria, who was not to marry, while a
minor, without the consent of the King, or, if he died, without the
consent of both Houses of Parliament.
During these early years, Prince Leopold, brother of the Duchess of
Kent, had acted the part of a father to the young Princess; but he was
now removed to a different scene and other duties. A revolution broke
out at Brussels on the 25th of August, 1830, with the ultimate result
that Belgium was separated from the Kingdom of the Netherlands, of
which, since 1814, it had formed a part. On the 12th of July, 1831,
Leopold was elected King of the new nationality, and a week later
entered the capital. He had shortly before been designated by the Great
Powers to the sovereignty of Greece, which had just achieved its
independence of Turkey; but he declined that perilous and doubtful
honour. As the liberal and enlightened ruler of the Belgians, however,
he acquired great and deserved distinction until his death on the 10th
of December, 1865. The assumption of regal powers on the Continent
removed Leopold from constant association with his niece; but the
nearness of Brussels enabled him to make frequent visits to England, and
in after years the Queen often consulted him on difficult matters of
State policy. His decease was in many respects a serious affliction to
the sovereign of this realm.
Under the general direction of the Duchess of Northumberland, the
instruction of the Princess was conducted by various gentlemen of high
repute in their several attainments. She made considerable progress in
Latin; from Mr. Amos she received the elements of Constitutional
Government as it exists in England; and Westall, the painter, taught her
the lighter graces of drawing. Music was now studied with assiduity, and
the future Queen revealed at an early age that passion for a noble art
which has distinguished her to the present day. Shortly after the
accession of William IV., the health of the Princess underwent some
decline, due in part to the distracting gaieties to which she had been
introduced since the change of reign. This failure of health appears to
have been the reason why her Royal Highness and the Duchess of Kent were
absent from the coronation of King William, on the 8th of September,
1831, though the circumstance gave occasion at the time to many sinister
remarks, as if the favour of the new monarch had been suddenly withdrawn
from his niece. Such, however, was not the case. The Princess was
treated with the consideration befitting her rank; and, on the 24th of
May, 1831, when she completed her twelfth year, Queen Adelaide gave a
juvenile ball in her honour, the magnificence of which made a deep
impression on the mind of the principal guest. It is evident, therefore,
that the King and Queen retained their old affection for the Princess;
but the Duchess of Northumberland saw that so much excitement was having
a prejudicial effect on the health of her pupil, and she accordingly
advised absence from court, and from the fatigue and turmoil of a
coronation ceremony. Only a month before, the King had recommended to
Parliament an increased allowance for the Princess; in consequence of
which, an additional income of £10,000 a year, for her Royal Highness’s
maintenance and education, was granted by the national representatives.
The Princess, however, was still much sequestered; and it may be that
the Court of William IV., though better than that of his brother, was
not well suited to a young girl whose mother considered her purity more
than anything else.
It was about this period that Southey, the poet, historian, and critic,
being one morning at Kensington Palace, was admitted to an interview
with the Princess, who expressed to him the great pleasure she had
derived both from his poetry and his prose, especially from the “Life of
Nelson,” which she declared she had read half a dozen times over. At the
time of the coronation, the Duchess of Kent and her daughter were
staying in the Isle of Wight, from which they afterwards proceeded to
Worthing and Malvern. The Princess was a great admirer of ecclesiastical
architecture and music, and she frequently visited such cathedral cities
as Worcester, Hereford, and Chester. She was also entertained by the
principal members of the nobility at their country seats, and thus
acquired a knowledge of the semi-feudal state which still distinguishes
the lives of our aristocracy. A very extensive home-tour was made in
1832, when, amongst other interesting events, the royal party visited
the cotton-mills of the Messrs. Strutt at Belper, in Derbyshire. By
means of a model, Mr. James Strutt explained to the Princess the various
processes of cotton-spinning, and a great impression was produced by
this exposition of a most important manufacture. It was a very
felicitous thought to take her Royal Highness to one of those great
seats of industry to which England owes so much, and to show her how
varied, complicated, and far-reaching were the interests over which, in
the maturity of time, she was to bear sway. From this visit, in all
probability, may be dated the Queen’s intelligent appreciation of the
commercial and manufacturing greatness of her Empire, which brings
unparalleled wealth into the land, circulates wages amongst innumerable
labourers, and furnishes a counterpoise to the preponderance of
hereditary power. In 1856, the Queen conferred the dignity of a peerage,
with the title of Baron Belper, on the son of Mr. James Strutt, who had
conducted her over the factory four-and-twenty years earlier.
Before the conclusion of the royal tour, the Princess and her mother
visited Oxford, where they were presented with an address in the
Sheldonian Theatre by the Vice-Chancellor. In her reply, the Duchess of
Kent said:--“We close a most interesting journey by a visit to this
University, that the Princess may see, as far as her years will allow,
all that is interesting in it. The history of our country has taught her
to know its importance by the many distinguished persons who, by their
character and talents, have been raised to eminence by the education
they have received in it. Your loyalty to the King, and recollection of
the favour you have enjoyed under the paternal sway of his house, could
not fail, I was sure, to lead you to receive his niece with all the
disposition you evince to make this visit agreeable and instructive to
her. It is my object to ensure, by all means in my power, her being so
educated as to meet the just expectation of all classes in this great
and free country.”
[Illustration: THE DUKE OF KENT.]
Their Royal Highnesses returned to Kensington on the 9th of November,
1832, and in the following year confined themselves to the south coast
of England. The most memorable circumstance of this trip was one of
those ceremonials in which the Queen has since so often taken part.
While the Duchess of Kent and her daughter were residing at East Cowes,
in the Isle of Wight, they attended the opening of the new landing-pier
at Southampton, then beginning to acquire importance as a great southern
port. In Southampton
[Illustration: THE QUEEN’S FIRST COUNCIL. (_After the Painting by Sir
David Wilkie_). [_See p. 19._]]
Water, the Royal yacht, which had been towed from Cowes by a steamer,
was met by a deputation from the corporation of the town, the members of
which were stationed on board an eight-oared barge, with one of the
town-sergeants bearing a silver oar. To the address of this deputation,
the Duchess of Kent replied that she wished her daughter to become
attached, at an early age, to works of utility--an attachment which, in
later life, her Majesty has exhibited on many interesting occasions. The
distinguished visitors were then rowed ashore, and entertained at
luncheon; after which, the Duchess of Kent signified her pleasure that
the new pier should be called the Royal Pier.
In July, 1834, the Princess Victoria was confirmed by the Archbishop of
Canterbury (Dr. Howley) in the Chapel Royal, St. James’s. The remainder
of the year was distinguished by no very remarkable events; but a little
incident occurring at Tunbridge Wells gives a pleasing idea of the young
Princess’s benevolence. The husband of an actress employed at the town
theatre died under circumstances of poverty, leaving his wife on the eve
of her confinement. Distressed at what she heard, the Princess obtained
£10 from her mother, added an equal sum from her own resources, and
personally carried the amount to the sufferer. After the accession of
her Majesty to the throne, she conferred on the actress an annuity of
£40 for the remainder of her life. The years 1835 and 1836 passed very
quietly; but 1837 was destined to be a date of great importance. On the
24th of May, the Princess completed her eighteenth year, and was
declared legally of age, according to the provisions of the Act of
Parliament to which reference has before been made. The day was kept as
a general holiday: Kensington was especially festive, and a serenade to
the Princess was performed under the Palace windows at seven o’clock in
the evening. Among the numerous birthday presents was a magnificent
pianoforte from the King. Within a month from that time, William IV. had
breathed his last.
[Illustration: COWES HARBOUR.]
CHAPTER II.
EARLY EVENTS OF THE NEW REIGN.
First Council of the Queen--Her Address to the Assembled
Dignitaries--Admirable Demeanour of the young
Sovereign--Proclamation of Queen Victoria--Condition of the Empire
at the Time of her Accession--Character of Lord Melbourne, the
Prime Minister--His Training of the Queen in Constitutional
Principles--Question of the Royal Prerogative and the choosing of
the Ministry--Removal of the Queen to Buckingham Palace--First
Levee--Her Majesty’s Speech on the Dissolution of
Parliament--Amelioration of the Criminal Laws--Results of the
General Election--Meeting of the New Legislature--The Civil List
fixed--Relations of the Queen towards the Duchess of Kent--Daily
Life of her Majesty--Royal Visit to the City--Insurrection in the
Two Canadas--Measures of the Government, and Suppression of the
Revolt--The Melbourne Administration and Lord Durham--Reform of the
Canadian Constitution.
We now resume our narrative of what happened on the first day of the new
reign--the 20th of June, 1837. At eleven o’clock in the forenoon--the
appointed hour--Queen Victoria, attended by the chief officers of the
household, entered the Council Chamber, and seated herself on a throne
which had been placed there. The Lord Chancellor (Cottenham) then
administered the customary oath taken by the sovereigns of England on
their accession, in which they promise to govern according to the laws.
The Princes, Peers, Privy Councillors, and Cabinet Ministers, next took
the oaths of allegiance and supremacy, kneeling before the throne; and
the first name on the list was that of Ernest, King of Hanover, known to
Englishmen as the Duke of Cumberland. The Queen caused these
distinguished persons to be sworn in as members of the Council, and the
Cabinet Ministers, having surrendered their seals of office, immediately
received them back from her Majesty, and kissed her hand on their
reappointment. Having ordered the necessary alterations in the official
stamps and form of prayer, the Council drew up and signed the
Proclamation of her Majesty’s accession, which was publicly read on the
following day. But one of the principal incidents of that memorable
Council was the reading by the Queen (previously to the surrender of the
seals by the Ministers, and their reappointment) of an address which ran
as follows:--
“The severe and afflicting loss which the nation has sustained by the
death of his Majesty, my beloved uncle, has devolved upon me the duty of
administering the government of this Empire. This awful responsibility
is imposed upon me so suddenly, and at so early a period, that I should
feel myself utterly oppressed by the burden, were I not sustained by the
hope that Divine Providence, which has called me to this work, will give
me strength for the performance of it, and that I shall find, in the
purity of my intentions, and in my zeal for the public welfare, that
support and those resources which usually belong to a more mature age
and longer experience. I place my firm reliance upon the wisdom of
Parliament, and upon the loyalty and affection of my people. I esteem
it also a peculiar advantage that I succeed to a sovereign whose
constant regard for the rights and liberties of his subjects, and whose
desire to promote the amelioration of the laws and institutions of the
country, have rendered his name the object of general attachment and
veneration. Educated in England, under the tender and affectionate care
of a most affectionate mother, I have learned from my infancy to respect
and love the constitution of my native country. It will be my
[Illustration: GATEWAY OF ST. JAMES’S PALACE]
unceasing study to maintain the reformed religion as by law established,
securing at the same time, to all, the full enjoyment of religious
liberty; and I shall steadily protect the rights, and promote to the
utmost of my power the happiness and welfare, of all classes of my
subjects.”
The demeanour of the Queen on this difficult and agitating occasion is
described as composed and dignified. She received the homage of the
nobility without any undue excitement, and her delivery of the address
was an admirable specimen of the clear and impressive reading to which
her Majesty has since accustomed the public. Occasionally she glanced
towards Lord Melbourne for guidance; but this occurred very seldom, and
for the most part her self-possession was extraordinary. The quietude
of manner was now and then broken by touches of natural feeling which
moved the hearts of all present. Her Majesty was particularly
considerate to the Royal Dukes, her uncles; and when the Duke of Sussex
(who was infirm) presented himself to take the
[Illustration: QUEEN VICTORIA AT THE TIME OF HER ACCESSION.]
oath of allegiance, and was about to kneel, she anticipated his action,
kissed his cheek, and said, with great tenderness of tone and gesture,
“Do not kneel, my uncle, for I am still Victoria, your niece.”
On the whole, that day was the most memorable in the Queen’s life, and
its effects were seen next morning in an aspect of pallor and fatigue.
An inexperienced girl, only just eighteen, had been invested with a
power which carried with it the gravest responsibilities towards
innumerable millions; and she had for the first time to discharge the
duties of the State--duties of which she could have had no practical
knowledge until then--under the affliction of a personal loss, for there
can be no doubt that she was attached to her uncle, the late King. The
lonely height of regal splendour was never more sharply or intensely
felt than by that young Princess in the first hours of her grandeur and
her burden. It is true that the death of King William was not
unexpected, and that his niece had for some years been familiarised with
the fact that, in the ordinary course of nature, she would one day
succeed to the crown. But death is always surprising when it comes, and
the new monarch had seen little of the ceremonial life of courts before
her elevation to the throne. Owing to the temporary failure of health to
which we have alluded, the Princess had not been made fully aware of her
destiny until after she had entered her twelfth year. She had probably
thought but little of the future in the intervening time; and at
eighteen she was called upon to administer the affairs of a vast Empire,
full of varied races, of complex interests, and of unsettled problems.
The new sovereign was proclaimed under the title of “Alexandrina
Victoria”; but the first name has not been officially used since that
day. The appearance of the Queen at one of the windows of St. James’s
Palace, on the morning of June 21st, was greeted with immense enthusiasm
by a vast crowd of people who had assembled to hear the Proclamation
read, but who did not anticipate that the sovereign would present
herself. At ten o’clock, the guns in the Park fired a salute, and
immediately afterwards her Majesty stood conspicuously before her
subjects. Dressed very simply in deep mourning, her fair hair and clear
complexion came out the more effectively for their black surroundings.
With visible emotion, and with her face bathed in tears, she listened to
the reading of the Proclamation, supported by Lord Melbourne on the one
side, and by Lord Lansdowne on the other, both dressed in court costume;
while close at hand was the Duchess of Kent. The court-yard of
the Palace was filled with a brilliant assemblage of high
functionaries, consisting of Garter King-at-Arms, heralds and
pursuivants, officers-of-arms on horseback, sergeants-at-arms, the
sergeant-trumpeter, the Knights-Marshal and their men, the Duke of
Norfolk as Earl-Marshal of England, and others--all clad in the
picturesque dresses and wearing the insignia of their offices. At the
conclusion of the Proclamation the Queen threw herself into the arms of
her mother, and gave free vent to her feelings, while the band played
the National Anthem, the Park and Tower guns discharged their salvos,
and the spectators burst into repeated acclamations.
In some respects, the accession of Queen Victoria took place at a
fortunate time. England was at peace with all foreign Powers; her
colonies were undisturbed, with the exception of Canada, where some
long-seated discontents were on the eve of breaking out into a rebellion
which for a while proved formidable; and, about three years before,
slavery had ceased in all British possessions. At home, several of the
more difficult questions of politics and statecraft had been settled,
either permanently or for a time, in the two preceding reigns; so that
large sections of the people, formerly disloyal, or at least unfriendly
to the existing order, were well disposed towards a form of government
which no longer appeared in the light of an oppression. The repeal of
the Test and Corporation Acts, in 1828, had conciliated the Dissenters;
the removal of Roman Catholic disabilities, in 1829, had abolished one
of the grievances of Ireland. By the Reform Bill of 1832--the temporary
defeat of which had very nearly plunged the country into revolution--the
middle classes had obtained a considerable accession of political power.
The sanguinary rigour of the criminal laws had been partially mitigated;
and, in September, 1835, an Act was passed for reforming the government
of municipal corporations. The great Constitutional question, touching
on the relation of the sovereign towards the Cabinet, had been virtually
settled, during the same year, in harmony with those Parliamentary
claims which were at any rate in accordance with the current of popular
feeling. France--the great hotbed of revolution--was comparatively
tranquil; and nothing in the general state of the world betokened the
advent of any serious troubles.
Lord Melbourne, who held the office of Prime Minister at the time of the
Queen’s accession, was an easy-tempered man of the world, well versed in
political affairs, but possessed of little power as a speaker, and
distinguished rather for tact than high statesmanship. He had entered
public life in 1805 as an adherent of Charles James Fox, and therefore
as a Whig of the most pronounced type; it was as leader of the Whigs
that he now held power; but in the latter part of the reign of George
IV. he had taken office under the Conservative Administrations of Mr.
Canning, Lord Goderich, and the Duke of Wellington. In truth, he cared
more for government than for legislation, and was therefore well
disposed to join any set of politicians who seemed capable of conducting
the affairs of the country with firmness and sense. Still, his most
natural and permanent inclinations were towards a moderate Whiggism,
very different, however, from the quasi-Radicalism of Fox, which he had
adopted in the days of his youth. In 1830 he accepted the seals of the
Home Office in the Government of Earl Grey; and this brought him back to
the old connection. On the retirement of Lord Grey, in July, 1834, he
succeeded to the Premiership; but in the following November the King
dismissed the Ministry without any reference to the wishes of
Parliament, and placed the Government in the hands of Sir Robert Peel.
This was the occasion of that Constitutional struggle which, in
consequence of the House of Commons gaining the day, has fixed the later
practice in accordance with what are usually regarded as popular
principles. Sir Robert Peel encountered so much opposition that, in
April, 1835, he was compelled to resign, and Lord Melbourne for the
second time became First Lord of the Treasury.
It was from this versatile, well-informed, but not very profound
statesman that her Majesty received her first practical instructions in
the theory and working of the British Constitution. That Lord Melbourne
discharged his office with ability, devotion, and conscientiousness, is
generally admitted; but it may be questioned whether he did not,
however unintentionally, give something of a party bias to her Majesty’s
conceptions of policy, and whether his teachings did not too much
depress the regal power in England. It is in truth only within the
present reign that it has come to be a fixed principle in English
affairs that the Ministers for the time being are to be chosen from the
majority of the
[Illustration: LORD MELBOURNE.]
House of Commons, without the least regard to the sovereign’s desires.
Melbourne himself, as we have seen, suffered from William’s assertion of
his independence in the matter of choosing his Ministers; and it was
perhaps not unnatural that he should wish to establish a contrary
practice, by instilling into the mind of his illustrious pupil the
conviction that absolute submission to the Parliamentary majority (or
rather to the majority in the Lower House) was the only Constitutional
course. But in fact that very course was an innovation; and to Lord
Melbourne, more than to any other man, is the innovation attributable.
There had undoubtedly been a movement in this direction since the latter
end of the seventeenth century; but it had been occasional rather
[Illustration: PROCLAMATION OF THE QUEEN AT ST. JAMES’S PALACE. (_See p.
22._)]
than continuous, and was frequently checked by reactions towards the
other practice.
From an early date in the Middle Ages, the King of England was assisted
in the task of governing by the Privy Council, the members of which body
did not, at the utmost, much exceed twelve. All were appointed by the
sovereign, and each was removable at his pleasure. In process of time,
the number of councillors became so great that their capacity for the
despatch of business was seriously impaired; and in 1679 Charles II.
limited the assembly to thirty members, of whom fifteen were to be the
principal officers of State. Those functionaries had already assumed,
under the name of the “Cabinet,” a species of separate existence, though
only as a part of the larger body to which they belonged. It was not
until shortly after the Restoration that this interior council acquired
much importance; and by many it was regarded as unconstitutional and
dangerous. Even at the present day, the Cabinet, in the striking
language of Macaulay, “still continues to be altogether unknown to the
law: the names of the noblemen and gentlemen who compose it are never
officially announced to the public; no record is kept of its meetings
and resolutions, nor has its existence ever been recognised by any Act
of Parliament.”[5] Nevertheless, the Cabinet, having gained a place in
the machinery of the State, gradually drew to itself greater powers; and
when, in 1693, the Earl of Sunderland persuaded William III. to choose
his Ministers from among the members of the predominant party in the
House of Commons, it is obvious that both the Legislature and the
Government obtained increased importance. Yet the King still allowed
himself considerable latitude, and had certainly no intention of giving
up all power in the matter.
The eighteenth century was mainly divided between the laxity of the
first two Georges--who, as foreigners largely concerned in Continental
affairs, were glad to leave much to their Ministers, especially to so
powerful a man as Sir Robert Walpole, though their powers of initiative
were not entirely abandoned--and the high-prerogative ideas of the third
George, who conceived that the kingly office had been unduly lowered
since the Revolution of 1688, and who resented the supremacy of a few
Whig families. Whatever may be thought of his policy or his motives, it
cannot be denied that George III. was within his right in determining to
have an actual voice in the appointment of his Ministers. A legal
authority says:--“The Cabinet Council, as it is called, consists of
those Ministers of State who are more immediately honoured with his
Majesty’s confidence, and who are summoned to consult upon the important
and arduous discharge of the executive authority. Their number and
selection depend only upon the King’s pleasure; and each member of that
Council receives a summons or message for every attendance.” Such is the
statement of Mr. Edward Christian, Chief Justice of the Isle of Ely, and
Downing Professor of the Laws of England in the University of Cambridge,
in a note to the fourteenth edition of Blackstone’s Commentaries,
published in 1803; and similar expositions appear in much more recent
law-books. Originally, the Cabinet Council was a committee of the Privy
Council: it is now, in effect, very little else than a committee of the
House of Commons; and it was Lord Melbourne’s instructions to the young
Queen which gave it finally, and perhaps irrevocably, that character.
Queen Victoria and her mother left Kensington on the 13th of July, and
proceeded to Buckingham Palace, a residence which George IV. had
favoured, and which William IV. detested and forsook. A levee was held
shortly after her Majesty’s arrival; on which occasion the Queen is said
to have presented a striking appearance, her head glittering with
diamonds, and her breast covered with the insignia of the Garter and
other orders. More important business, however, was approaching, and on
the 17th of the month the Queen went in State to the House of Lords to
dissolve Parliament. Addressing both Houses, her Majesty said:--“I have
been anxious to seize the first opportunity of meeting you, in order
that I might repeat in person my cordial thanks for your condolence upon
the death of his late Majesty, and for the expression of attachment and
affection with which you congratulated me upon my accession to the
throne. I am very desirous of renewing the assurances of my
determination to maintain the Protestant religion as established by law;
to secure to all the free exercise of the rights of conscience; to
protect the liberties, and to promote the welfare, of all classes of the
community. I rejoice that, in ascending the throne, I find the country
in amity with all foreign Powers; and, while I faithfully perform the
engagements of the Crown, and carefully watch over the interests of my
subjects, it will be the constant object of my solicitude to maintain
the blessings of peace.” After alluding to the chief events of the
session, the Queen concluded by observing:--“I ascend the throne with a
deep sense of the responsibility which is imposed upon me; but I am
supported by the consciousness of my own right intentions, and by my
dependence upon the protection of Almighty God. It will be my care to
strengthen our institutions, civil and ecclesiastical, by discreet
improvement, wherever improvement is required, and to do all in my power
to compose and allay animosity and discord. Acting upon these
principles, I shall on all occasions look with confidence to the wisdom
of Parliament and the affection of my people, which form the true
support of the dignity of the Crown, and ensure the stability of the
Constitution.”
In the course of this speech--which was delivered with great clearness
and elocutionary power--the Queen expressed marked pleasure at a further
mitigation of the criminal code, which she hailed as an auspicious
commencement of her reign. The change was assuredly much needed, and the
subject had engaged the attention of eminent statesmen and lawyers for
several years. Jeremy Bentham had exposed the unreasonable and cruel
severity of the punishments attached to comparatively trivial offences;
and Sir Samuel Romilly, seconded by Sir James Mackintosh and Sir Fowell
Buxton, had brought the state of the law before the notice of the
Legislature. For a long while, the disinclination of Parliament to deal
with important reforms kept this crying abuse of justice in the
background; but in 1833 a Royal Commission was issued, for the purpose
of inquiring how far it might be expedient to reduce the written and
unwritten law of the country into one digest, and to report on the best
manner of doing it. In the following year, the Commissioners were
further required to state their opinions on the subject of the
employment of counsel by prisoners, and on capital punishment. At the
present day, it seems almost incredible that until 1836 the accused in
criminal trials were not professionally defended. But still worse was
the merciless spirit with which the rights of property were hedged
about. A case is reported in which a poor Cornish woman, who, urged by
want caused by the impressment of her husband as a seaman, had stolen a
piece of cloth from a tradesman’s door, was hanged for the fact. Indeed,
in the earlier years of the present century, the death-penalty was so
frequent, and attached to so many offences, that numerous criminals were
executed regularly every Monday morning outside Newgate. The extreme
rigour of the law, however, was softened by various Acts of Parliament,
passed from 1824 to 1829, with which the name of Sir Robert Peel is
honourably associated. But much still remained to be done; and the Acts
to which the Queen alluded, and which were introduced into the House of
Commons by Lord John Russell, confined the punishment of death to high
treason, and, with some exceptions, to offences consisting of, or
aggravated by, violence to the person, or tending directly to endanger
life. By the Criminal Law Consolidation Acts of 1861, death is now
confined to treason and wilful murder; so that the reign of Queen
Victoria has been distinguished, amongst other things, by a great and
beneficent reform in the criminal laws of England.
The General Election followed quickly on the dissolution of Parliament,
and the Whigs, who had been losing popularity for some time past,
proceeded to the country with the questionable credit of being supported
by Royal favour. Personally, the Queen liked Lord Melbourne, and readily
adopted the political opinions he advanced. The Ministerialists made the
most of the fact, and it was even said that they went about “placarded
with her Majesty’s name.” But it is not improbable that this very
circumstance told against them in many quarters, by inducing waverers to
believe that the holders of office were endeavouring to influence the
electorate after a manner entirely foreign to constitutional usage. At
any rate, the Government lost seriously in the counties; yet, owing to
their gains among the borough constituencies, and the large amount of
support obtained in Scotland and Ireland, they returned to Westminster
with a small majority, though with an appreciable loss of political
repute. Parliament reassembled on the 20th of November, and on the 12th
of December the Queen sent a message to the House of Commons asking for
a suitable provision for the Duchess of Kent. This was made; the Civil
List was settled, though not without some opposition from the
economists; and the necessary preliminaries of a new reign were
complete. The income of the Queen’s mother was fixed at
[Illustration: BANQUET TO THE QUEEN IN THE GUILDHALL (NOVEMBER 9, 1837).
[_See p. 31._]]
£30,000, as against £22,000 previously; while the Civil List of her
Majesty was settled at £385,000 a year, including £60,000 for the Privy
Purse.
The Queen at once threw herself with business-like precision into the
duties of her high office. She rose at eight, signed despatches until
the breakfast hour, and then sent one of the servants to “invite” the
Duchess of Kent to the Royal table. Such was the rather cold formality
observed by the young monarch; and in other respects the etiquette of a
Court seems to have been followed with rigid exactness. The Duchess
never approached the Queen unless specially summoned, and always
refrained from conversing on affairs of State. These restraints were
considered necessary, in order to prevent any suspicion of undue
influence by the mother over the daughter; but they were very
distressing to the former. The late Mr. Charles C. F. Greville, for many
years Clerk of the Council, was told by the Princess de Lieven that the
Duchess of Kent was “overwhelmed with vexation and disappointment.” The
same authority adds that the Queen behaved with kindness and attention
to her parent, but she had rendered herself quite independent of the
Duchess, who painfully felt her own insignificance. For eighteen years,
she complained to Princess de Lieven, she had made her child the sole
object of all her thoughts and hopes; and now she was taken from her.
Speaking from his own observations, Mr. Greville remarks:--“In the midst
of all her propriety of mind and conduct, the young Queen begins to
exhibit slight signs of a peremptory disposition, and it is impossible
not to suspect that, as she gains confidence, and as her character
begins to develop, she will evince a strong will of her own.”[6] With
respect to the Queen and the Duchess, it should be recollected that one
in the exalted position of the former is necessarily bound by other than
domestic rules.
At twelve o’clock, the sovereign conferred with her Ministers, and the
serious business of the day at once began. When a document was handed to
her Majesty, she read it without comment until the end was reached, the
Ministers in the meanwhile observing a profound silence. The interval
between the termination of the Council and the dinner-hour was devoted
to riding or walking, and the public had many opportunities of observing
the admirable style in which the Queen sat her horse. At dinner, the
first Lord-in-waiting took the head of the table, opposite to whom was
the chief Equerry-in-waiting. The Queen sat half-way down on the right
hand, and the guests were of course placed according to their respective
ranks. At an early hour, her Majesty left the table for the
drawing-room, where the time was passed in music and conversation. The
sovereign herself was a proficient at the pianoforte, and often showed
her abilities in this respect; and when the gentlemen returned from the
dining-room (which was in about a quarter of an hour), a little singing
would give variety to the evening. Mr. Greville speaks of these banquets
as dull and formal. They were doubtless unavoidably so; for the ceremony
of a Court is not favourable to the charm and vividness of the best
social intercourse.
On the 9th of November--eleven days before the meeting of
Parliament--the Queen went in State to the City, and was present at the
inaugural banquet of the new Lord Mayor, Alderman Cowan. The streets
through which her Majesty passed were densely thronged by people of all
orders, who kept up an almost continual volley of cheers as the Royal
carriages, with their escort, proceeded eastward. The houses were hung
with richly-coloured cloths, green boughs, and such flowers as could be
furnished by the mid-autumn season. Busts of Victoria were reared upon
extemporary pedestals; flags and heraldic devices stretched across the
streets; and London displayed as much festive adornment as was possible
in those days. At Temple Bar, the Lord Mayor and Aldermen were seen
mounted on artillery-horses from Woolwich, each with a soldier at its
head, to restrain any erratic movement that might have troubled the
composure of the City dignitaries. On the arrival of the Queen, the Lord
Mayor dismounted, and, taking the City sword in his hand, delivered the
keys to her Majesty, who at once returned them. Then the Lord Mayor
resumed his horse, and, bearing the sword aloft, rode before the Queen
into the heart of the City, the Aldermen following in the rear of the
Royal carriage. In the open space before St. Paul’s Cathedral, hustings
had been erected, on which were stationed the Liverymen of the City
Companies, and the Christ Hospital (or Blue-coat) boys. One of the
latter presented an address to the Queen, in accordance with ancient
custom, and the whole of the boys then sang the National Anthem. The
Guildhall was magnificently adorned for the occasion; and here an
address was read by the Recorder. A sumptuous banquet followed, and at
night the metropolis was very generally illuminated. On this occasion,
the Queen was accompanied by the Duchesses of Kent, Gloucester, and
Cambridge, and by the Dukes of Cambridge and Sussex, together with
Prince George of Cambridge. The Ambassadors, Cabinet Ministers, and
nobility, followed in a train of two hundred carriages, which are said
to have extended for a mile and a half. The title of Baronet was
conferred on the Lord Mayor, and the two Sheriffs were knighted. It was
long since the City had had so brilliant a day, and the memory of it
survived for many years.
The first great historical event in the reign of Queen Victoria was the
insurrection in Canada. This proved to be of very serious import, and
undoubtedly showed the existence of much disaffection on the part of the
French-speaking colonists. It is probable that the latter had never
outgrown the mortification of being snatched from their old association
with the mother-country, and subjected to a Protestant kingdom. For
several years after the Treaty of 1763, which made over Canada to Great
Britain as a consequence of the brilliant victories gained by Wolfe and
Amherst, the colony was despotically ruled; but in 1791 a more
representative form of government was established, by which the whole
possession was divided into an Upper and a Lower Province. Each of the
provinces was furnished with a constitution, comprising a Governor, an
Executive Council nominated by the Crown, a Legislative Council
appointed for life in the same way, and a Representative Assembly
elected for four years. This constitution (which had been sanctioned by
an Act of the British Parliament) worked very badly, and in 1837 the
Assemblies of both provinces were at issue with their Governors, and
with the Councils appointed by the monarch. But by far the most serious
state of affairs was that which prevailed in Lower (or Eastern) Canada,
where the population was mainly of French origin, and where,
consequently, the antagonism of race and of religion was chiefly to be
expected. Towards the latter end of the reign of William IV.,
Commissioners were nominated to inquire into the alleged grievances, and
the report of these gentlemen was presented to Parliament early in the
session of 1837. On the 6th of March, Lord John Russell (then Home
Secretary) brought the subject before the attention of the House of
Commons, and, after many prolonged debates, a series of resolutions was
passed, affirming the necessity of certain reforms in the political
state of Canada. These reforms, however, did not go nearly far enough to
satisfy the requirements of the disaffected, and by the close of 1837
the Canadians were in full revolt.
When the Queen opened her first Parliament, on the 20th of November, the
state of Lower Canada was recommended, in the Royal Speech, to the
“serious consideration” of the Legislature. Before any measures could be
taken, intelligence of the outbreak reached England, and, on the 22nd of
December, Lord John Russell informed the House of Commons that the
Legislative Assembly of Lower Canada had been adjourned, on its refusal
to entertain the supplies, or to proceed to business, in consequence of
what were deemed the insufficient proposals of the Imperial Government.
The colonists had undoubtedly some grievances of old standing, and their
constitution required amendment in a popular sense. But a position had
been assumed which the advisers of the Crown could not possibly
tolerate, and the malcontents were now in arms against the just and
legal authority of the sovereign. As early as March, Lord John Russell
had said that, since the 31st of October, 1832, no provision had been
made by the legislators of Lower Canada for defraying the charges of the
administration of justice, or for the support of civil government in the
province. The arrears amounted to a very large sum, which the House of
Assembly refused to vote, while at the same time demanding an elected
Legislative Council, and entire control over all branches of the
Government.
The insurgents of Canada had numerous sympathisers in the United States,
where, under cover of a good deal of extravagant talk about liberty,
many people began to hope that existing complications would effect the
long-desired annexation of the two provinces to the great Federal
Republic. Those who were the most earnest in their views soon passed
from sympathy into action. In the latter days of 1837, a party of
Americans seized on Navy Island, a small piece of territory, situated in
the river Niagara a little above the Falls, and belonging to Canada.
Numbering as many as seven hundred, and having with them twenty pieces
of cannon, these unauthorised volunteers seemed likely to prove
formidable; but their means of offence were soon diminished by an
energetic, though somewhat irregular, proceeding on the part of the
Canadian authorities, acting, as was afterwards well known, under the
orders of Sir Francis Head, the
[Illustration: PRESIDENT VAN BUREN.]
Governor of Upper Canada. A small steamboat owned by the American
invaders, with which they kept up communications with their own side of
the river, and which was laden with arms and ammunition for the
insurgents, was cut adrift from her moorings on the night of December
29th, set on fire, and left to sweep over the cataract. The affair led
to a great deal of diplomatic correspondence between the American and
British Governments; but the preceding violation of Canadian soil by a
body of adventurers precluded the Cabinet of Washington from making any
serious demands on that of London. Ultimately, in the course of 1838,
the President (Mr. Van Buren) issued a proclamation calling on all
persons engaged in schemes for invading Canada to desist from the same,
on pain of such punishments as the law attached to the offence. This
put an end to the difficulty so far as the two countries were concerned;
but the insurrection was not yet entirely suppressed.
Although the worst disaffection was in Lower Canada, both provinces were
disturbed by movements of a disloyal nature. Upper Canada was excited by
the fiery appeals of a Scotsman named William Lyon Mackenzie; Lower
Canada by the incitements of Louis Joseph Papineau, one of the
disaffected French provincials. The two divisions of the colony,
however, were jealous of each other, and this hampered what might
otherwise have been a more dangerous rising. The Radical party in
England supported the cause of the malcontents, and insisted on the
necessity of at once redressing all grievances. The Government of Lord
Melbourne maintained that the rebellion must be first suppressed; and
undoubtedly that was the only course consistent with Imperial authority.
In the autumn of 1837, a small party of English troops was beaten at St.
Denis; but another detachment was successful against the rebels, and the
garrisons of the various cities, though extremely small, held their own
against the rising tide of insurrection. Aided by the Royalists, the
Government force under Sir John Colborne inflicted some severe blows on
the enemy; yet the movement continued throughout the greater part of
1838. On the 16th of January in that year, however, the Earl of Durham
had been appointed Governor-General of the five British colonies of
North America, and Lord High Commissioner for the adjustment of the
affairs of Canada. The liberal policy thus inaugurated, and the
victories obtained over the rebels by Sir John Colborne, Sir Francis
Head, and others, brought the revolt to an end before the close of the
year, and the colony soon afterwards entered on a future of prosperity.
The task of Lord Durham had, nevertheless, been surrounded by many
difficulties, and, although he was sent by the British Government to
carry out measures of leniency and concession, which his personal
inclinations were well inclined to second, he was speedily called to
account by the Imperial Cabinet for an ordinance touching the punishment
of offenders, which, being regarded as in some respects illegal, was
disallowed. Protesting that he had been abandoned by the Government,
Lord Durham resigned on the 9th of October, and the principal conduct of
affairs was left in the hands of Sir John Colborne. The policy of the
High Commissioner had been swayed by truly benevolent and broadly
liberal motives; but he had adopted--perhaps necessarily, considering
the state of affairs with which he had to deal--a highly dictatorial
manner, and the Opposition at home (especially in the Upper House, under
the violent incentives of Lord Brougham) found several opportunities of
effective attack. The Government, being weak and vacillating, said less
in defence of their representative than they might have done; Lord
Durham, in his passionate and imperious way, issued a farewell
proclamation to the people of Canada, which, in effect, amounted to an
appeal from the decisions of the Queen’s advisers--an appeal, that is,
to a community still in rebellion against the Crown; Ministers replied
by recalling their insubordinate servant; and the career of Lord Durham
was at an end. Having left his post without permission--certainly a very
improper proceeding--he was not honoured with the usual salute on
landing, and, in revenge, caused his wife to withdraw from the position
she held in the Queen’s household.
The recall of Lord Durham had been anticipated by his resignation; but
the disgraced official, assisted by his two secretaries, Charles Buller
and Edward Gibbon Wakefield, drew up a report containing the germs of
that system of unity and self-government under which Canada has since
become a loyal, contented, and progressive colony. It was not long
before the Cabinet of Lord Melbourne carried out the suggestions of the
discredited, but still successful, dictator. In 1839, Lord Glenelg, who
had been Colonial Secretary during the dissension with Lord Durham, gave
place to Lord Normanby, and he shortly afterwards to Lord John Russell,
who in 1840 passed a measure for reuniting Upper and Lower Canada, and
establishing a system of colonial freedom. In the same year, Lord Durham
died at the early age of forty-eight; but the principles of his colonial
policy rose triumphant above his tomb.
CHAPTER III.
THE DIFFICULTIES OF A YOUNG SOVEREIGN.
Decline in the Popularity of the Queen--Its Causes--Her Majesty
Accused of Encouraging the Papists--Alleged Design to Assassinate
the Monarch--Disloyal Toryism--Honourable Conduct of the
Queen--Fatal Riots at Canterbury, owing to the Pretensions of John
Nicholls Thom--Preparations for the Coronation--The Ceremony at
Westminster Abbey--Incidents of the Day--Mismanagement at
Coronations--Development of Steam Navigation and the Railway
System--Prorogation of Parliament in August, 1838--Difficult
Position of the Government--Rise of Chartism--Appearance of Mr.
Gladstone and Mr. Disraeli in the Political Arena--Failure of Mr.
Disraeli’s First Speech--“Conservatives” and “Liberals”--Capture of
Aden, in Southern Arabia--Wars with China, owing to the Smuggling
of Opium into that Country by the Anglo-Indians--Troubles in
Jamaica--Bill for Suspending the Constitution--Defeat and
Resignation of the Melbourne Government--Ineffectual Attempt of Sir
Robert Peel to Form a Cabinet--The Question of the Bedchamber
Women--Reinstatement of the Melbourne Administration.
Nothing could exceed the popularity of the Queen at the beginning of her
reign. Her youth, her innocence, the novelty of her duties and the
difficulty of her position, all appealed with a commanding tenderness to
every manly instinct and every womanly sympathy. But after a while a
change occurred in the national sentiment, which was not altogether
inexcusable on the part of the public, though it did some injustice to
the sovereign. Many enthusiasts expected more than they had any right to
expect, and were disappointed because the Queen did not at once do
wonders for the removal of grievances, and the cure of national
distress. Beyond these vague impressions, however, there were some real
causes of complaint, or at least of apprehension. It was seen very
clearly that the young monarch had placed herself too unreservedly in
the hands of one political connection. The offices about the Queen’s
person were filled by ladies belonging to the families of the chief
Ministers. People said that Lord Melbourne was too much at the Palace;
that he sought to occupy the position of a
[Illustration: THE EARL OF DURHAM.]
Mentor in all things; and that in the General Election the Queen showed
a partiality for certain candidates who belonged to the faction then in
power. Ministers and their supporters did really use the name and
supposed leanings of her Majesty as a means of bolstering up a Cabinet
which they knew to be generally unpopular; and persons were found to ask
whether the English Court was always to be the appendage of an
aristocratic coterie.
Under the influence of these feelings, some men were unmanly enough to
attack the Queen in public with shameful imputations. The excitement,
which began during the elections of 1837, had become almost frantic in
1839. The Orangemen of Ireland, and the ultra-Protestants of England,
believed, or affected to believe, that the sovereign was being
influenced to destroy the reformed religion, and re-establish Papacy
throughout her dominions. The Melbourne Administration supported
religious liberty; to some extent, its members leant for support upon
the Irish vote; the Queen favoured Lord Melbourne: therefore, her
Majesty was inclined to Rome. Such were the stages by which these
hot-headed reasoners
[Illustration: THE THRONE-ROOM, BUCKINGHAM PALACE.]
arrived at their conclusion. Some placed their hopes in the Tory party;
others openly declared that the Tories, could they only get possession
of the sovereign, would poison her, and change the succession. Men
recollected with an uneasy feeling that, in 1835, Mr. Joseph Hume, a
conspicuous Radical member of Parliament, detected and unmasked an
Orange plot for setting aside the rights of the Princess Victoria, and
giving the crown to the Duke of Cumberland, on the ridiculous plea that,
unless some such step were taken, the Duke of Wellington might seize the
regal power for himself. The investigations which the Government were
compelled to make raised a strong suspicion that the Duke of Cumberland
was privy to this traitorous scheme. The English people were so
delighted when he left for Hanover, after the death of William IV., that
a cheap medal was struck to commemorate the event; and his despotic
rule in the small German kingdom amply justified their fears. Nothing
more, it would seem, was to be dreaded from the fifth son of George
III.; yet apprehensions of a conspiracy still remained.
It is a remarkable feature of the times that during all this commotion
the Liberals were the loyal and courtly party, while many of the Tories
indulged in fierce invectives against the monarch. On the one side, the
Irish agitator, Daniel O’Connell, vaunted in the course of 1839 that he
could bring together five hundred thousand of his countrymen to defend
the life and honour of “the beloved young lady” who filled the English
throne; on the other, a Mr. Bradshaw, member for Canterbury in the Tory
interest, alleged, without any circumlocution, that the countenance of
Queen Victoria, the ruler of Protestant England, was given to “Irish
Papists and Rapparees,” her Majesty, he added, being “Queen only of a
faction, and as much of a partisan as the Lord Chancellor himself.”
This, indeed, was by no means the worst of the speaker’s utterances; but
his wildest flights of vituperation were received with enthusiastic
cheers. It is but fair, however, to add that he afterwards apologised
for his bad manners. At a meeting held at the Freemasons’ Tavern,
presided over by Lord Stanhope, a Chartist orator proposed to open a
subscription for presenting the Queen with a skipping-rope and a
birch-rod. Other persons spoke with equal violence, and in some
instances the authorities even found it necessary to warn military
officers, and civil servants of the Crown, against such disloyal
utterances. One very painful incident occurred towards the end of June,
1839, when her Majesty was hissed on Ascot racecourse. It was
represented to her that the Duchess of Montrose and Lady Sarah Ingestre
were amongst the persons so acting; the Queen therefore showed her
displeasure to those ladies at a State ball. The slander was apparently
traced to Lady Lichfield, who denied it, first by word, and then by
writing. With the letter in her hand, the Duchess went to the Palace,
and required an audience of her Majesty, but, after being kept waiting a
couple of hours, was refused, on the advice of Lord Melbourne. She was
extremely angry, and insisted that a written statement should be laid
before the Queen. These circumstances increased the unpopularity of the
monarch, and she was coldly received at the prorogation of Parliament.
Yet, if people could have set aside their prejudices and passions, they
would have found abundant evidence that the nature of the Queen was
instinct with just and honourable feelings. She had been accustomed from
childhood to live strictly within her income, and to deny herself any
little gratification which could not be at once paid for in ready money.
The same habit of virtuous prudence continued after her accession to the
throne; and out of her savings she was enabled, during her first year of
regal power, to discharge the heavy debts of her father, contracted
before she was born. With respect to this matter, however, it should be
mentioned that, according to a statement in the _Morning Post_, the Duke
of Kent’s executors had succeeded in Chancery in establishing their
claim against the Crown to the mines of Cape Breton, which had been made
over to his Royal Highness for a period of sixty years dating from 1826,
and that therefore the Crown must either have paid the Duke’s debts, or
suffered the mines to be worked for the benefit of the creditors. The
Queen also paid her mother’s debts, which, however, were in some
respects her own, since they had in the main been incurred on her
behalf. With a truly liberal and generous feeling, she continued to the
natural children of William IV. by Mrs. Jordan the allowance of £500 a
year each which had been granted them by the King. What was really
regrettable in the early part of the Queen’s reign was the completeness
with which the new sovereign placed herself in the hands of Lord
Melbourne and his clique, and which seemed for a time to set her in the
light of a partisan. But what else could be expected of one so young, so
inexperienced, so incapable by early training to assume all at once the
full responsibilities of royalty? The fault was with the advisers,
rather than with the advised.
The General Election of 1837 failed to rescue the Government from the
difficult position they had long occupied. Threatened by the Radicals,
who considered they did not move fast enough, they were obliged to lean
for assistance on the Conservatives, without whose help they would often
have been left in a minority. Ministers felt the ignominy of their lot,
but were unable to amend it; and a painful set of incidents in the
spring of 1838 gave occasion for a sharp attack on the Home Office. A
few years previously, a person called John Nicholls Thom left his home
in Cornwall, and settled in Kent, where he described himself as Sir
William Courtenay, Knight of Malta. He was in truth a religious madman,
claiming to be the King of Jerusalem, or, in other words, the Messiah;
and multitudes of persons, belonging for the most part, though not
entirely, to the poor and ignorant classes, believed in his assertions.
Dressed in a fantastical costume, he went about the country, haranguing
the people, and violently denouncing the Poor Law. He persuaded many of
the farmers and yeomen that he was entitled to some of the finest
estates in Kent, and that he would shortly be established as a great
chieftain, when all the people on his lands should live rent-free. To
the still more credulous he spoke of himself as Jesus Christ, and
pointed in confirmation to certain marks in his hands and side, which he
described as the wounds inflicted by the nails of the cross. Crowds
followed him about, believing in his foolish miracles; some actually
paid him divine honours; but a tragedy was approaching. On the 31st of
May, 1838, Thom shot a constable who had interfered in his proceedings.
The military were then summoned from Canterbury, when the rioters
retreated into Bossenden Wood; a lieutenant who endeavoured to arrest
the maniac was also shot dead; and a riot ensued, in which several
persons, including Thom himself, were killed by the fire of the
soldiers, and others wounded. It afterwards appeared that the man had
previously been confined as a lunatic, but had been liberated the year
before by Lord John Russell, acting as Home Secretary. For this, the
latter was severely censured by the Opposition in Parliament, and a
select committee was appointed to inquire into the circumstances; but it
was generally agreed that the Minister was not to blame in the matter.
In the first half of 1838, attention was drawn away from many
distracting controversies by the preparations for crowning the new
sovereign. The
[Illustration: THE CORONATION CHAIR, WESTMINSTER ABBEY.]
imagination of the populace was powerfully affected by the thought of
this gorgeous ceremony, and a Radical paper of the time observed that
the commonalty had gone “coronation-mad.” Political economists, however,
fixed their thoughts upon the question of expense, and it was resolved
that the charges should fall far short of those incurred for George IV.,
which amounted to £243,000. The crowning of his successor had cost the
nation no more than £50,000; but it was stated in Parliament that the
expenses for Victoria would be about £70,000--an increase on the
previous reign due to the desire of Ministers to enable the great
[Illustration: THE CORONATION OF THE QUEEN. (_After the Painting by Sir
George Hayter._) [_See p. 43._]]
mass of the people to share in what was described as a national
festivity. Some important alterations were introduced into the
programme. The procession of the estates of the realm was to be struck
out, and the accustomed banquet in Westminster Hall, with its feudal
observances, was likewise marked for omission. To compensate for these
losses, it was arranged that there should be a procession through the
streets which all could see. The new arrangements were objected to by
some of the upper classes; but there can be no question that the
popularity of the show was greatly enhanced by these concessions to the
wishes of the majority.
The coronation took place on the 28th of June. Although the day began
with clouds and some rain, the weather afterwards cleared, and the
pageantry was seen to great advantage. The streets were lined with
spectators; an unbroken row of carriages moved on towards the Abbey; and
the windows were crowded with on-lookers. At ten o’clock A.M., the Royal
procession started from Buckingham Palace, and, passing up Constitution
Hill, proceeded along Piccadilly, St. James’s Street, Pall Mall,
Cockspur Street, Charing Cross, Whitehall, and Parliament Street, to the
west door of the grand old historic structure where the ceremonial was
to take place. The carriages of the Ambassadors Extraordinary attracted
much attention, especially that of Marshal Soult, which, so far as the
framework was concerned, appears to have been the same as that used on
occasions of state by the last great Prince of the House of Condé, one
of the most famous military commanders of the seventeenth century. The
gallant adversary of Wellington in the wars of the Peninsula was
everywhere received with the heartiest cheers, and was so deeply touched
by this cordiality of feeling on the part of his old opponents, that
some years after he declared himself, in the French Chamber, a warm
partisan of the English alliance. Westminster Abbey had been brilliantly
decorated for the occasion. The ancient aisles glowed and shone with
crimson and purple hangings, with cloth of gold, and with the jewels,
velvets, and plumes of the peeresses; and when the procession entered at
the west door, the effect was both magnificent and solemn.
It was half-past eleven when her Majesty reached the Abbey. Retiring for
a space into the robing-room, she issued forth clad in the Royal robes
of crimson velvet, lined with ermine, and embroidered with gold lace.
Round her neck she wore the collars of the Garter, Thistle, Bath, and
St. Patrick, and on her head a circlet of gold. It is mentioned that she
looked very animated; and assuredly the scene was one well calculated to
impress even the mind of a sovereign with a sense of lofty and almost
overwhelming grandeur. The noble, time-honoured building, with half the
history of England in its monuments and its memories, appealed
powerfully to the moral sentiment; while the splendour of the
decorations and the costumes was such as to hold the Turkish Ambassador
entranced for some minutes. The peers and great officials, with their
pages and other attendants, were gorgeously dressed; so also were the
Foreign Ministers and their suites, and, in particular, Prince Esterhazy
glittered with diamonds to his very boot-heels. Her train upborne by
the daughters of eight peers, preceded by the regalia, the Princes of
the blood-royal, and the great officers of State, and followed by the
ladies of the Court and the gentlemen-at-arms, the Queen advanced slowly
to the centre of the choir, and, amidst the chanting of anthems, moved
towards a chair placed midway between the chair of homage and the altar,
where, kneeling on a faldstool, she engaged in private devotion. The
ceremony of the coronation then commenced.
The first act was that which is called “the Recognition.” Accompanied by
some of the chief civil dignitaries, the Archbishop of Canterbury
advanced, and said, “Sirs, I here present unto you Queen Victoria, the
undoubted Queen of this realm; wherefore, all you who are come this day
to do your homage, are you willing to do the same?” The question was
answered by loud cries of “God save Queen Victoria!” and, after some
further observances, her Majesty made her offerings to the Church, in
the shape of a golden altar-cloth, and an ingot of gold of a pound
weight. The strictly religious part of the ceremony followed, and, at
the conclusion of a sermon preached by the Bishop of London, the Oath
was administered in the manner usual on such occasions. The Queen then
knelt again upon the faldstool, while the choir sang, “Veni, Creator
Spiritus;” after which came the Anointing. Her Majesty seated herself in
the historic chair of King Edward I., while the Dukes of Buccleuch and
Rutland, and the Marquises of Anglesey and Exeter (all being Knights of
the Garter), held a cloth of gold over her head. The Dean of Westminster
next took the ampulla from the altar, and poured some of the oil into
the anointing-spoon; whereupon the Archbishop anointed the head and
hands of the Queen, marking them with the cross, and pronouncing the
words,--“Be thou anointed with holy oil, as kings, priests, and prophets
were anointed,” etc. A prayer or blessing was then uttered, and the
investiture with the Royal Robe, the rendering of the Orb, and the
delivery of the Ring and Sceptre, were the next ceremonies. The placing
of the Crown on the sovereign’s head was one of the most striking
incidents of the day. As the Queen knelt, and the crown was placed on
her brow, a ray of sunlight fell on her face, and, being reflected from
the diamonds, made a kind of halo round her head.[7] At the same moment,
the peers assumed their coronets, the Bishops their caps, and the
Kings-of-Arms their crowns, thus adding greatly to the richness and
dignity of the spectacle. Loud cheers were echoed from every part of the
Abbey; trumpets sounded, drums beat; and the Tower and Park guns were
fired by signal.
The Benediction, the Enthroning, and the formal rendering of Homage, now
ensued. The last of these ceremonies had a singularly feudal character.
First, the Archbishop of Canterbury knelt, and did homage for himself
and the other Lords Spiritual; then the uncles of the Queen, the Dukes
of Sussex and Cambridge, removed their coronets, and, without kneeling,
made a vow of fealty in these words:--“I do become your liege man, of
life and limb, and of earthly worship; and faith and truth I will bear
unto you, to live and die, against all manner of folks. So help me God!”
Having touched the crown on the Queen’s head, they kissed her left
cheek, and retired. The other peers then performed their homage
kneeling, the senior of each rank pronouncing the words. It was at this
part of the day’s proceedings that an awkward incident occurred--an
incident, however, which served to bring out an amiable trait in the
sovereign’s character. As Lord Rolle, then upwards of eighty, was
ascending the steps to the throne, he stumbled and fell. The Queen,
forgetting all the ceremonious pomp of the occasion, started forward as
if to save him, held out her hand for him to kiss, and expressed a hope
that his Lordship was not hurt. Some rather obvious puns were made on
the correspondence of the noble Lord’s involuntary action with the title
which he bore; and even his daughter was heard to remark, after it had
been ascertained that no damage was done, “Oh, it’s nothing! It’s only
part of his tenure to play the _roll_ at the Coronation.”
While the Lords were doing homage, the Earl of Surrey, Treasurer of the
Household, threw silver medals about the choir and lower galleries,
which led to a good deal of rather unseemly scrambling. The choir then
sang an anthem, and the Queen received two sceptres from the Dukes of
Norfolk and Richmond. Next, divesting herself of her crown, she knelt at
the altar, and, after two of the Bishops had read the Gospel and Epistle
of the Communion Service, made further offerings to the Church. She then
received the Sacrament; the final blessing was given; and the choir sang
the anthem, “Hallelujah! for the Lord God Omnipotent reigneth.” Quitting
the throne, and passing into the chapel of Edward the Confessor, while
the organ played a solemn yet triumphant strain, her Majesty was
relieved of her Imperial Robe of State, and arrayed in one of purple
velvet. Thus adorned, with the crown upon her head, the sceptre with the
cross in the right hand, and the orb in the left, the Queen presented
herself at the west door of the Abbey, and, delivering the regalia to
gentlemen who attended from the Jewel Office, re-entered the State
carriage on her return to the Palace. It was by this time nearly four
o’clock, but the streets were still crowded with sight-seers. The peers
now wore their coronets, and the Queen her crown; the latter of which
(together with the coronets of the Royal Family) blazed with diamonds
and other precious stones. State dinners, balls, fireworks,
illuminations, feasts to the poor, and a fair in Hyde Park, lasting four
days, which was visited by the Queen herself, followed the splendid
ceremony of which Westminster Abbey had been the theatre.
In many respects, the proceedings in the Abbey were grand and
impressive; but Mr. Greville, the clerk of the Council, lets us a little
behind the scenes in the Second Part of his Memoirs. “The different
actors in the ceremonial,” he writes, “were very imperfect in their
parts, and had neglected to rehearse them. Lord John Thynne, who
officiated for the Dean of Westminster, told me that
[Illustration: THE QUEEN RECEIVING THE SACRAMENT AT HER CORONATION.
(_After the Painting by C. R. Leslie, R.A._)]
nobody knew what was to be done except the Archbishop and himself (who
had rehearsed), Lord Willoughby (who is experienced in these matters),
and the Duke of Wellington; and consequently there was a continual
difficulty and embarrassment, and the Queen never knew what she was to
do next. They made her leave her chair, and enter into St. Edward’s
Chapel, before the prayers were concluded, much to the discomfiture of
the Archbishop. She said to [Lord] John Thynne,
[Illustration: THE DUCHESS OF KENT.]
‘Pray tell me what I am to do, for they don’t know;’ and at the end,
when the orb was put into her hand, she said to him, ‘What am I to do
with it?’ ‘Your Majesty is to carry it, if you please, in your hand.’
‘Am I?’ she said; ‘it is very heavy.’ The ruby ring was made for her
little finger instead of the fourth, on which the rubric prescribes that
it should be put. When the Archbishop was to put it on, she extended the
former, but he said it must be on the latter. She said it was too small,
and she could not get it on. He said it was right to put it there, and,
as he insisted, she yielded, but had first to take off her other rings,
and then this was forced on; but it hurt her very much, and as soon as
the ceremony was over she was obliged to bathe her finger in iced water
in order to get it off. The noise and confusion were very great when the
medals were thrown about by Lord Surrey, everybody scrambling with all
their might and main to get them, and none more vigorously than the
Maids of Honour.”
There can be no doubt that on all these occasions mistakes and omissions
are numerous. What accidents may have attended the coronation of Queen
Elizabeth it is impossible to say, for there were no Memoir-writers in
those days; but, in several of his letters, Horace Walpole gives some
amusing anecdotes of the unpreparedness of the Court officials at the
coronation of George III. In a communication to Sir Horace Mann, dated
September 28th, 1761, he says:--“The heralds were so ignorant of their
business, that, though pensioned for nothing but to register lords and
ladies, and what belongs to them, they advertised in the newspaper for
the Christian names and places of abode of the peeresses. The King
complained of such omissions, and of the want of precedents: Lord
Effingham, the Earl Marshal, told him it was true there had been great
neglect in that office, but he had now taken such care of registering
directions that _next coronation_ would be conducted with the greatest
order imaginable. The King was so diverted with this flattering speech
that he made the Earl repeat it several times.”
On the 4th of September, 1838, the King and Queen of the Belgians paid a
visit to England. They landed at Ramsgate, and were escorted by Lord
Torrington to the Queen at Windsor Castle, where they remained the
guests of her Majesty. A fortnight later, a military review took place
in Windsor Little Park, when the Queen appeared on horseback in the
Windsor uniform, with the badge and ribbon of the Order of the Garter.
She had King Leopold, in a Field Marshal’s uniform, on her right, and
Lord Hill, Commander of the Forces, on her left, followed by the Duke of
Wellington and Lord Palmerston. The King and Queen of the Belgians left
the Castle on the 20th, and embarked the following day for Ostend. It
was a great delight to the English sovereign to have King Leopold as a
visitor, for his advice on affairs of State was highly valuable.
The year 1838 was signalised, among other things, by some events showing
the rapid change which science was making in the habits of society. On
the 23rd of April, the _Great Western_ steamer arrived at New York,
after a voyage of fifteen clear days. This famous ship, and the
_Sirius_, whose voyage was simultaneous almost to a day, were the first
vessels which had crossed the Atlantic by steam-power alone, sails
having been used in combination with steam on previous occasions. The
_Great Western_ was in those days the largest steamer ever known, her
tonnage being equal to that of the largest merchant-ships. She was built
at Bristol, and sailed from that port on the 7th of April. When she
entered the harbour of New York, she had still a surplus of one hundred
and forty-eight tons of coal on board, and the problem was solved as to
whether a steamer could be constructed large enough to carry sufficient
fuel for so long a voyage. The size, tonnage, and speed of this historic
vessel have been greatly surpassed in later times; but the fact of a
ship crossing the Atlantic in fifteen days was a very genuine
astonishment to the people of 1838. Two years later (1840), the Cunard
line of steamers was established at Liverpool, which soon entirely
eclipsed Bristol as the great commercial port on the western side of
England, and as the packet-station for the American service. Another
interesting feature of the year 1838 was the opening of the London and
Birmingham Railway throughout its entire length. The precise date was
the 17th of September, and thenceforward the railway system progressed
rapidly. The line in question, however, was not the first that had been
placed at the disposal of the public. The original railway for the use
of passengers was that constructed by Edward Pease and George Stephenson
between Stockton and Darlington, and opened on the 27th of September,
1825. The next was the Liverpool and Manchester Railway, commenced in
October, 1826, and opened on the 15th of September, 1830--on which
occasion, Mr. Huskisson, a prominent statesman of the time, was
accidentally killed. Nevertheless, the development of the system is
associated almost entirely with the reign of Queen Victoria, and we
hardly think of railways as belonging, even in their inception, to an
earlier period.
The Parliamentary Session of 1838 came to a close on the 16th of August.
Having taken her seat on the throne, the Queen was addressed by the
Speaker of the House of Commons on the subject of the suspension of the
constitution of Lower Canada (which had been set aside as a preliminary
to the introduction of more liberal arrangements when the rebellion
should be suppressed), and on some other matters of less general
interest. Her Majesty gave the Royal assent to a number of Bills, and
then proceeded to read the Speech, which presents nothing of importance.
The Government were heartily glad to be free for some months from the
criticism and the menaces of a Parliament not very cordially inclined
towards Lord Melbourne and his colleagues. When the House of Commons
reassembled after the General Election in 1837, Ministers found
themselves with a majority of only twelve. Conservative support saved
them from discomfiture on several occasions; but this very fact was not
unnaturally considered fatal to their reputation as Whigs. The breach
between the Cabinet and the advanced section of the party became wider
and more impassable during the session of 1838: the recess, therefore,
came as an immense relief. In addition to their troubles in the Lower
House, Ministers had to encounter, in the other branch of the
Legislature, the invectives of Lord Brougham, who had quarrelled with
his old friends in consequence of not being reappointed to the
Chancellorship in 1835. The affairs of Canada, moreover, had brought the
Whigs into collision with Lord Durham, whose nature was almost as
passionate and imperious as that of Brougham himself. Their demerits
were probably not so great as their enemies tried to show; but the
conduct of affairs was weak, and Tories and Radicals were alike
dissatisfied, though often for the most diverse reasons.
A good deal of discontent, also, was growing up in the country itself.
The price of bread was high; wages were low; trade was not prosperous;
and the operation of the new Poor Law was considered unnecessarily
harsh. In the autumn of 1838, meetings were held in various localities,
at which some of the speakers addressed inflammatory language to the
assembled people, who belonged to the artisan and labouring classes. A
body of men had arisen, calling themselves Chartists. They demanded a
Charter of popular rights, the six points of
[Illustration: NEWARK CASTLE.]
which were Manhood Suffrage, Vote by Ballot, Annual Parliaments, Payment
of Members, Abolition of the Property Qualification, and Equal Electoral
Districts. Several of these objects have since been carried out, either
wholly or nearly so; but, in the days of which we write, they seemed
dangerous and visionary in the highest degree. The middle classes, who
had carried the Reform Bill of 1832 with the assistance of the grades
below them, considered that enough had been done when their own
interests were satisfied. A reaction had set in, and the prosperous were
afraid of advancing on to the paths of revolution. Even Lord John
Russell declared against further organic changes, and, in the absence of
any leaders of distinguished social status, the humbler orders took the
agitation into their own hands. A sentiment of vague discontent arose
very speedily after the passing of the great measure which changed the
representation. Bad harvests and general distress gave acrimony to the
spirit of political discussion, and in the summer of 1838 a committee of
six Members of Parliament and six working men, assembling at Birmingham,
prepared a Bill embodying their views of what
[Illustration: MR. DISRAELI IN HIS YOUTH. (_After the Portrait by
Maclise_.)]
was required by the country in general, and the labouring classes in
particular. This was the document which soon afterwards received the
name of “the People’s Charter”--on the suggestion, it is said, of Daniel
O’Connell. The direction of the movement fell into the hands of the more
violent members. Physical force was threatened; torchlight meetings were
held; processions were formed, in which guns, pikes, and other weapons
were openly displayed; and on the 12th of December the Government
issued a proclamation against all such gatherings. Chartism, however,
was not destroyed by this measure. Some degree of truth pervaded its
extravagance, and its influence has been felt in later days.
It is about this period, or a little earlier, that we become aware of
two great names in modern statesmanship, one of which is still potent in
the political world, while the other has but recently passed into the
sphere of completed history. Mr. Gladstone--then a young man of
twenty-three--was returned for Newark, in December, 1832, to the first
reformed Parliament. He was then a Conservative, with the same High
Church leanings which, in the midst of considerable changes on other
subjects, he has manifested ever since. His ability, his mental culture,
and his habits of business, attracted the attention of Sir Robert Peel,
who, in his short-lived Administration of 1834-5, made him a Junior Lord
of the Treasury, and afterwards Under-Secretary for Colonial Affairs;
but it was not until the beginning of Victoria’s reign that he became
conspicuous. Probably no one--not even himself--could at that time have
anticipated the greatness he was subsequently to achieve; but he was
slowly maturing his powers, and acquiring that extraordinary knowledge
of public affairs for which he has since been famous.
His rival, Mr. Disraeli, afterwards Lord Beaconsfield, did not enter
Parliament until the latter half of 1837--the first Parliament of the
reign of Queen Victoria. He was the son of Isaac D’Israeli, an author of
distinction, the descendant of a family of Jews, formerly connected with
Spain and Italy. Isaac having quarrelled with the Wardens of the
Synagogue, his son Benjamin was brought up as a Christian from an early
period of his life. By 1837-8, he had made a name for himself by a
variety of novels, embodying those political and social ideas which
afterwards influenced his conduct as a public man--a sort of Toryism,
with an infusion of democratic sympathy. It was as a species of Radical,
though with Tory support, that he first endeavoured to obtain a seat in
the House of Commons; but a few years later he found no difficulty in
displaying the Conservative colours without reserve. The inconsistency,
though of course not susceptible of being entirely explained away, was
hardly so extreme as might at first appear. Mr. Disraeli hated the
Whigs, and objected to several features of the Reform Bill, as giving
too much power to the middle classes, and too little to the working
classes, and as tending in this way to the increased predominance of the
great Whig families. He appeared, therefore, to be attacking the same
enemy, whether from a Radical or a Tory platform. In a letter written on
the 17th of January, 1874, this was the explanation given by Mr.
Disraeli himself. “It seemed to me,” he said, “that the borough
constituency of Lord Grey was essentially, and purposely, a Dissenting
and low Whig constituency, consisting of the principal employers of
labour, and that the ballot was the only instrument to extricate us from
these difficulties.” Probably, Mr. Disraeli was consistent from his own
point of view, and in his devotion to certain leading ideas; but it is
equally obvious that he was resolved to get into Parliament, and that he
addressed his appeal at different times to different supporters.
The future Lord Beaconsfield was thirty-three years of age when he
entered the House of Commons as the Conservative Member for Maidstone.
He was five years older than Mr. Gladstone, and began his Parliamentary
career five years later; but, from the close of 1837 to the summer of
1876, when Mr. Disraeli was advanced to the Peerage, both were members
of the Lower House, except during the short interval between Mr.
Gladstone’s retirement from Newark in 1846 and his election for Oxford
University in 1847. The appearance of the representative for Maidstone
did not create a favourable impression. He was a dandy, of the type
existing in those days, with the addition of a certain Hebrew
extravagance and gorgeousness. His long black hair, his sallow
countenance, his bottle-green coat and white waistcoat, his profusion of
rings and gold chains, his strange gestures and general exaggeration of
manner, excited a sense of the ludicrous which was not fortunate for the
new-comer. His first attempt at oratory had a disastrous termination. A
few years earlier, O’Connell had patronised young Disraeli; but they
afterwards quarrelled on political grounds, and, in reply to a savage
attack on himself by the Irish agitator, Mr. Disraeli had declared that,
as soon as he obtained a seat in the House of Commons, he would inflict
on that demagogue such a “castigation” as would make him repent the
insults to which he had given utterance. On the 7th of December, 1837,
during an Irish debate, he rose to acquit himself of this engagement.
The speech had been elaborately prepared, but was too high-flown for the
taste of the House. Certain it is that there were frequent interruptions
and bursts of laughter; but a good deal of the disturbance appears to
have originated with the Irish followers of Mr. O’Connell. The new
member struggled bravely for a long time against this ungenerous
opposition, but at length gave way, in these memorable words addressed
to the Speaker:--“I am not at all surprised, Sir, at the reception I
have met with. I have begun several times many things, and I have often
succeeded at last. Ay, Sir, and, though I sit down now, the time will
come when you will hear me.”
The great figures of Mr. Gladstone and Mr. Disraeli have occupied such
prominent positions during the reign of Queen Victoria, that it has
seemed necessary to make special reference to their rise as politicians.
At this period, both sat on the Conservative side of the House. But
their Conservatism was of two very different orders; Mr. Gladstone’s
being more of the steady, orthodox kind, while Mr. Disraeli’s shot forth
into novelties and unexpected developments, touching on autocracy in one
direction, and on democratic power in another. The term “Conservative,”
it may be here remarked, arose about the commencement of the Queen’s
reign, or at any rate not long before. Since 1832, also, it had been not
unusual for certain enthusiasts of the opposite party to call themselves
Liberals; but the older members of both bodies preferred the historic
appellations of Whig and Tory. “Radical” was another term belonging to
the same epoch; so that we find, at the beginning of the Victorian era,
all the party watchwords which are still active in the political arena.
The leading events in the earlier months of 1839 were the occupation of
Aden, on the 20th of January, by the troops of the East India Company;
the opening of Parliament by the Queen in person on the 5th of February;
and the arrest by the Chinese Government, on the 7th of April, of
Captain Elliot, the superintendent of British trade in China, who was
compelled to deliver up opium to the value of £3,000,000. Aden is a town
and harbour at the south-western extremity of Arabia. It was at that
time a miserable collection of mud huts, containing not more than six
hundred inhabitants, but is now, under English rule, a flourishing and
populous place of trade, a coaling-station of the Anglo-Indian mails,
and a singularly convenient position for communication with Asia and
Africa. A British merchant-vessel having been shipwrecked off the coast
of Aden, the barbarian natives of which plundered and ill-used the crew,
a war-ship was despatched from Bombay in 1838, to oblige the reigning
Sultan (a half-savage potentate) to make restitution. It is evident,
however, that the East Indian authorities were rather glad of the
incident, since it gave them a much-desired pretext for impressing on
the petty sovereign of the country--with that persuasiveness which the
presence of a ship-of-war so greatly facilitates--the desirability (from
our point of view) of ceding Aden and the adjacent lands to the English.
The Sultan agreed to the proposal, but afterwards endeavoured to break
his promise, when he was compelled by force to submit.
Affairs of this nature have always their questionable side; but the
Chinese war was much worse. An English factory was established at Canton
in 1680, and several were in existence in 1839. A factory, in the
Anglo-Indian sense of the word, is not a place of manufacture, but a
place of trade. One of the principal trades we pursued at Canton was the
trade in opium, which, having been grown in India, was smuggled into
China, in defiance of the express prohibition of the Imperial
Government. The use of opium ruined the health, and corrupted the whole
moral nature, of innumerable Chinamen; but the culture and exportation
of the poisonous drug yielded a large revenue to the Indian Government,
as well as a great profit to the traders; and the reasonable wishes of
the Chinese authorities were therefore to be disregarded. Frequent
dissensions arose in consequence; and at length, in 1839, matters came
to a crisis with the arrest of Captain Elliot, and the seizure of the
opium over which he had control. A naval war, ultimately supported by a
military force, soon afterwards broke out between England and China, and
lasted, with brief interruptions, until the 29th of August, 1842, when a
treaty of peace was concluded at Nankin, the Imperial sanction of which
was received on the 15th of September. Amicable relations were thus
re-established for a few years; but at a later period hostilities again
broke out, owing to repeated misunderstandings between the British
authorities and the Chinese Government. By the Treaty of 1842 (the
formal ratifications of which were exchanged between the Emperor and
Queen Victoria on the 22nd of July, 1843), it was provided that Amoy,
Foochow, Ningpo, and Shanghae, should, in addition to Canton, be thrown
open to the British, who were permitted to maintain a consul at each of
the five ports; and that the island of Hong-Kong should belong in
perpetuity to England. We had succeeded by virtue of superior force; yet
such triumphs yield nothing but a feeling of shame to any well-informed
[Illustration: THE COUNCIL CHAMBER, ST. JAMES’S PALACE.]
Englishman whose mind is not vitiated by false reasoning or
self-interest. The Chinese fought in defence of their cities with a
heroism which would have called forth the generous praises of Plutarch;
and the pitiable spectacle of brave men slaying their wives and
children, and then themselves, rather than fall into the hands of the
enemy, should have burnt like red-hot iron into the consciences of the
opium-mongers who provoked the war.
These were matters in which the Queen was not immediately concerned,
though it would be unfitting to omit them from any account of her reign.
But a complication had arisen in Jamaica which led to a Ministerial
crisis in England, involving points of constitutional practice that were
very important to her Majesty’s position. Slavery had been abolished in
Jamaica in the year 1834; but the troubles inseparable from that
detestable system did not cease with its abrogation. The planters
continued to be insolent and cruel. They evaded the new arrangements in
every way they could, and placed themselves in systematic opposition to
the Governors sent out from England, whose duty it was to see the laws
enforced. The House of Assembly defied the Imperial Government, and
ultimately refused to provide for the executive needs of the island
until they were allowed to have their own way in all things. On the
other hand, it is very probable that the negroes were often indolent,
and sometimes presumptuous; though nothing is more surprising than the
temper and self-control exhibited by the poor blacks on finding
themselves suddenly invested with liberty. The Jamaica embroilment was
made all the worse by the imprudence of Lord Sligo, who, while acting as
Governor in 1836, committed a gross violation of the privileges of the
Assembly. He was compelled by the Home Government to apologise, and soon
afterwards gave place to Sir Lionel Smith, who, after a brief period of
popularity, became as much at issue with the Assembly as his
predecessors. The representative body refused to pass the most necessary
laws, and expressed the greatest indignation at a Bill, sanctioned by
the Imperial Parliament, for the regulation of prisons in Jamaica, where
many cruelties were inflicted on the negroes. Nor was this all; for the
unfortunate men of colour were frequently turned out of house and home,
together with their families, and left to starve--a fate not absolutely
impossible, even in the genial climate of a West India island. The state
of things was becoming intolerable, and the Government of Lord Melbourne
struck a venturesome blow.
A proposal was brought before Parliament in 1839 to suspend the
constitution of Jamaica for five years, and to substitute during that
period a provisional government appointed by the Home authorities.
However regrettable in itself, the measure seems to have been justified
by the circumstances; but the weakness of the Government invited attack
on so favourable an opportunity for creating odium. The majority of
twelve with which they commenced the new Parliament had by this time
fallen even lower, and there was enough to say against their Jamaica
policy to give the Opposition an excellent chance of success. The
measure was indeed carried by a majority of five at the sitting of May
6th; but this was equivalent to a defeat, and the Ministry at once
resigned. The announcement of their resolution was made on the 7th of
May, and, on her Majesty sending for the Duke of Wellington on the 8th,
she was advised by him to entrust the formation of a new Cabinet to Sir
Robert Peel. Accepting this counsel, the Queen commanded the attendance
of that statesman at Buckingham Palace, but at the outset encountered
him with the discouraging remark that she was much grieved to part with
her late Ministers, whose conduct she entirely approved. She added,
however, that she felt the step was necessary; that her first object was
the good of the country; that she had perfect confidence in Sir Robert,
and would give him every assistance in her power in carrying on the
Government. Nothing was said on that occasion about the difficulty which
afterwards arose, and the composition of the Cabinet proceeded without
any material obstruction.
The next day, however, while talking over matters with his intended
colleagues, Sir Robert Peel became for the first time aware that the
person of the Queen was surrounded by ladies closely related to the Whig
statesmen recently in office. This was very naturally considered as
involving a special peril to the new Ministry; for, when it was
remembered that the Queen had an avowed partiality for the ideas and
political conduct of Lord Melbourne, it seemed almost inevitable that
ladies so intimately connected with the Melbourne Government would use
their position about her Majesty to prejudice and embarrass the
incomers. In consequence of these apprehensions, Sir Robert Peel brought
the subject before the notice of the sovereign on the same day (May
9th), and stated that, while no change would be required in any of the
appointments below the rank of a Lady of the Bedchamber, he should
expect that all of the higher class would at once resign. If such should
not be the case, he should propose a change, although he thought that in
some instances the absence of political feeling might render any
alteration unnecessary. On the 10th of May, her Majesty wrote to the
Conservative leader:--“The Queen, having considered the proposal made to
her yesterday by Sir Robert Peel, to remove the Ladies of her
Bedchamber, cannot consent to adopt a course which she conceives to be
contrary to usage, and which is repugnant to her feelings.” A few hours
later, Sir Robert addressed a communication to the Queen, relinquishing
his attempt to form a Government, and recapitulating the circumstances
which, in his judgment, rendered that attempt impracticable.
It is difficult to come to any other conclusion than that Sir Robert
Peel was right in the view which he took of this matter. He could not
have carried on the administration of the country under a perpetual
liability to backstairs intrigues. Besides, it was the opinion of very
high authorities on constitutional law that the appointments of the
Royal Household are State appointments, and therefore dependent on the
Ministry of the day. Lord Melbourne and Lord John Russell, however,
advised her Majesty to the contrary, and it was the members of the late
Government, sitting in council by a questionable stretch of powers that
were then merely provisional, who arranged the terms of the letter which
the Queen addressed to Sir Robert Peel on the 10th of May. The leader of
the Conservatives became for a few days the most unpopular man in
England. It was supposed by the Queen, and rather sedulously spread
abroad by the Melbourne party, that Peel desired to remove _all_ her
personal friends and familiar attendants; but, as we have seen, this was
far from being the case. The Whigs endeavoured to create a factitious
sentiment on behalf of the Queen by stating that the ladies whose
dismissal Peel demanded were “the friends of her Majesty’s youth;”
whereas they appear to have been scarcely known to her until their
appointment at the beginning of the new reign. That appointment was made
on purely political grounds, and the Duchess of Kent was not consulted
in the matter. The facts were afterwards made clear by the statesman
chiefly concerned; but a great deal of unmerited odium had been
incurred, and, in particular, Daniel O’Connell and Feargus O’Connor
denounced Sir Robert in unmeasured language, while pouring out fulsome
eulogies on the sovereign whose lawful authority they were a few years
later to dispute. When the truth became known, a strong reaction set in,
and there can be no doubt that what was called the Bedchamber affair was
one of the causes of that temporary unpopularity of the Queen to which
we have before adverted.
The Melbourne Government resumed office on the 11th of May, and lost no
time in adopting a minute in the following terms:--“Her Majesty’s
confidential servants, having taken into consideration the letter
addressed by her Majesty to Sir Robert Peel on the 10th of May, and the
reply of Sir Robert Peel of the same day, are of opinion that, for the
purpose of giving to the Administration that character of efficiency and
stability, and those marks of the constitutional support of the Crown,
which are required to enable it to act usefully to the public service,
it is reasonable that the great officers of the Court, and situations in
the Household held by Members of Parliament, should be included in the
political arrangements made in a change in the Administration; but they
are not of opinion that a similar principle should be applied or
extended to the offices held by ladies in her Majesty’s Household.” Two
years later (at the suggestion of Prince Albert), the question was
settled by a compromise which substantially conceded what Sir Robert
Peel had required. The restored Whigs introduced another Jamaica Bill,
of a less stringent character, which they carried with the assistance,
and under the correction, of the Tories; and the session closed in the
midst of general distraction, and the errors of a feeble rule.
[Illustration: COBURG. (_After a Sketch by Prince Albert._)]
CHAPTER IV.
COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE.
English Chartism in the Summer of 1839--Riots in
Birmingham--Principal Leaders of the Chartist Party--Excesses of
the Artisans in Various Parts of Great Britain and
Ireland--Chartist Rising at Newport, Monmouthshire--Conviction of
Frost, Williams, and Jones--The Queen and Prince Albert--Early Life
of the Prince--His Engaging Qualities--Desire of King Leopold to
Effect a Matrimonial Engagement between Prince Albert and the
Princess Victoria--First Visit of the Former to England--His
Studies in Germany--Informal Understanding between Prince Albert
and Queen Victoria--Difficulties of the Case--The Prince’s View of
the Matter in the Autumn of 1839--Second Visit to England, and
Formal Betrothal--Letter of Baron Stockmar on the
Subject--Announcement of the Royal Marriage to the Privy Council
and to Parliament--The Appointment of the Prince’s
Household--Subjects of Difficulty and Dissension--Question of the
Prince’s Religion--Reduction of his Annuity by a Vote of the House
of Commons--Progress from Gotha to England, and Reception at
Buckingham Palace--Marriage of Prince Albert to the Queen at the
Chapel Royal, St. James’s.
An event of peculiar interest to her Majesty, and almost equally to the
nation at large, took place in the second half of 1839; but, before
relating the circumstances attending the Queen’s engagement to Prince
Albert, it will be desirable to pass in rapid review the state of the
country at that period--a state which might well have persuaded a young
female sovereign of the need of sharing her responsibilities with one of
the stronger sex. The Government, as we have seen, was extremely weak;
Ireland, as usual, was giving the utmost trouble; the Colonies were
agitated; and England itself was almost on the brink of revolution,
owing to the distress existing among the labouring classes, and the
incitements of the Chartists. The last of these dangers was the greatest
of all. Hunger was preaching insurrection to thousands and tens of
thousands of the poor and humble all over the kingdom; some few
designing men, and scores of others who, however mistaken in their
methods, were sincere and even noble in their aims, were thrusting the
pike and the torch into the hands of maddened operatives; and the
authorities, for a time, seemed paralysed. On the 14th of June, Mr.
Attwood, Member for Birmingham, presented to the House a Chartist
petition, signed, it was said, by 1,280,000 persons, and adopted at five
hundred public meetings. It was at any rate sufficiently heavy to task
the strength of twelve men to carry it out of the House; yet when Mr.
Attwood, on the 12th of July, brought forward a motion to submit the
grievances described in the petition to a select committee, he could
obtain only forty-six votes, against 235 on the adverse side. On the 4th
of July, a Chartist riot broke out in Birmingham, during which some
policemen, sent from London, were severely handled. It was found
necessary to call out the military, and for a time the disturbance
seemed at an end. But on the 15th of the same month a much worse rising
filled the whole town with consternation. Shops were sacked, houses set
on fire in several localities, and the firemen obstructed and menaced in
their attempts to extinguish the flames. Property was destroyed to the
amount of nearly £50,000, and the vicinity which suffered most was
afterwards described by the Duke of Wellington as presenting a worse
appearance than that of a city taken by storm.
It was believed by superficial thinkers that these excesses would prove
the death of Chartism; and, under this impression, the Attorney-General,
Sir John Campbell, afterwards Lord Chief Justice of England, made a
speech at a public dinner at Edinburgh on the 24th of October. He even
spoke of Chartism as a thing already extinguished, and considered that
the punishment of the rioters had brought the whole matter to an end.
But the movement was served by some men of zeal, earnestness, and
intellectual capacity, and it had aroused the deepest feelings of
countless men and women who had no voice in the government of the
country, and who undoubtedly suffered in divers ways. One of the
principal leaders of the party, but by no means one of the wisest, was
the Irishman, Feargus O’Connor--an agitator by taste and profession, who
nevertheless claimed to be descended from the old kings of Ireland.
There were others who said that he was the grandson of one Conyers, an
Essex farmer who settled in the sister island, and whose son thought it
prudent to Hibernicise his name. If so, the redoubtable Feargus was not
so Irish as he seemed; but, however this may have been, he preferred to
throw himself into the vortex of English agitation, leaving the Irish
work to O’Connell. More reasonable, more argumentative, and more
profoundly sincere, were Thomas Cooper, a poet of some power and
passion; Henry Vincent, an effective lecturer; and Ernest Jones, a
writer for the periodical press. These were all men of decided ability;
and their advocacy of Chartist principles gave a more solid character to
what might otherwise have passed off in effervescence.
On the other hand, it is not to be denied that the working classes,
maddened by sufferings which their ignorance often led them to impute to
wrong causes, committed many deplorable and guilty actions. At the
direct incentive of the Trades-Unions, the factory hands sent
threatening letters to the masters, fired the mills, made murderous
attacks on such of their fellow-workmen as were willing to serve for
lower wages, destroyed valuable machinery, and kept a large part of
England, Scotland, and Ireland in perpetual terror. Chartism, by its
assertion of political principles, whether right or wrong, did a certain
amount of good, by giving another direction to all this turbulent
socialism. Yet Chartism itself had its excesses, and, after the riots at
Birmingham and elsewhere, the Government became alarmed. There were
physical-force Chartists as well as moral-force Chartists; and at first
the former were the more prevailing. The manufacturing districts were
almost in a state of rebellion when, in the autumn of 1839, Henry
Vincent was imprisoned at Newport, Monmouthshire, for delivering
seditious speeches. There was at that time in Newport a respectable
tradesman named John Frost, who had until recently been a magistrate of
the borough, but whose use of intemperate language at a public meeting
had caused his removal from the post. This dangerous egotist, or
enthusiast, whichever he may have been, determined on making a bold
attempt to rescue Vincent. He collected a vast body of armed men,
marched seven thousand into the town on the 4th of November, while a
great many more remained on the surrounding hills, and proceeded to the
Westgate Hotel, where the magistrates were sitting.
The authorities knew something of what was about to happen, and had made
as much preparation as they could. Thirty soldiers and some special
constables were assembled in the building, and made a good defence.
Frost’s men fired into the hotel, and wounded the Mayor, Mr. Phillips,
together with several others. The soldiers returned the fire, killed and
wounded a good many, and struck such terror into the rest that, with the
want of spirit usually displayed by English mobs, they fled in
confusion, notwithstanding their immense superiority in numbers. Frost
was soon arrested, together with two other ringleaders, named Williams
and Jones, and some of their followers. They were tried in January,
1840, on a charge of high treason, it being evident that, over and above
the rescue of Vincent, the conspirators intended to form a junction with
the malcontents of Birmingham and other large manufacturing towns, and
thus create a general rising. The three leaders were found guilty, and
sentenced to death; but, owing to some informality in the proceedings,
this was afterwards commuted to transportation for life, and even the
milder punishment was subsequently curtailed. An amnesty having been
granted to Frost, Williams, and Jones, on the 3rd of May, 1856, they
returned to England in the September of that year, to find everything
wonderfully altered since they left. Other Chartist risings took place
in the latter part of 1839 and the beginning of 1840, or were nipped in
the bud by the vigilance of the authorities. The country was in a state
of seething discontent, and it says much for the mingled leniency and
firmness of the Government that the army was not called upon to suppress
an insurrection.
While the working classes of Great Britain were thus starving and
conspiring, and while the aristocracy (in the late summer of 1839) were
amusing themselves with the theatrical jousts of the Eglintoun
Tournament, her Majesty was advancing towards the most important event
of her personal life. Her affection for her cousin, Prince Albert of
Saxe-Coburg and Gotha, dated back some years; but it was not until 1839
that a matrimonial alliance was effected. The Prince was the second son
of Duke Ernest I. of Saxe-Coburg-Saalfeld (brother of the Duchess of
Kent), and of his wife, the Princess Louise, daughter of the Duke of
Saxe-Gotha-Altenburg. He was born at the Rosenau (a summer residence of
his father, situated about four miles from Coburg) on the 26th of
August, 1819. The future husband of the Queen was thus about a quarter
of a year younger than herself; and at the time of the formal engagement
he was but a youth of twenty. From his childhood he had given proof of
an excellent disposition, and, as he gained in years, he became
extremely intelligent and studious. It is easy to flatter a Prince, and
many tongues are always ready to perform the task. But it seems to be
the absolute truth to say of Prince Albert that his nature was manly,
sincere, and affectionate; that his life was blameless and discreet; and
that his intellect and acquirements were remarkable, even at an early
age. Added to this, he was graced with physical beauty and pleasing
manners; so that in more ways than one he attracted the attention of
many observers.
When, in 1836, it became evident that the Princess Victoria must, in all
human probability, succeed to the British throne, her uncle, King
Leopold, was very desirous of effecting a marriage between his niece and
his nephew. He well knew how terrible would be the weight of Imperial
sovereignty on the head of a young, inexperienced girl, and he wished to
lighten the burden by the constant advice and guidance of a
conscientious husband. On this subject lie consulted with his valued
friend and private adviser, Baron von Stockmar, a man of great judgment
and experience, and of a proportionate honesty and independence.
Stockmar thought well of the young Prince, but would not commit himself
to a positive opinion until he had seen more of him. A visit to
Kensington Palace was subsequently arranged with the Duchess of Kent,
and Prince Albert came to England, with his father and brother, in May,
1836. This was his first acquaintance with the country which he was
afterwards to regard as almost his own; and it laid the foundations of
the subsequent union. The Prince, it was obvious, had made a very
favourable impression on the Princess. How far the former was affected
could not as yet be ascertained; but he knew that the marriage was
considered desirable, and he must of necessity have been flattered by
the possibility of such a future. About the same period, King Leopold
made his niece aware of his wishes on the subject, and the answer of the
Princess showed that _his_ hopes were also her own.
During the next few years, Prince Albert pursued his studies in Germany,
[Illustration: PRINCE ALBERT.]
chiefly at the University of Bonn. After keeping three terms there, and
earning the highest praises from the several professors, he left in
September, 1838, and in the ensuing months paid visits to Switzerland
and Italy. Returning to his own country in the early summer of 1839, he
was formally declared of age a little before the completion of his
twentieth year. The Prince had all along continued to take a great
interest in his cousin, and many were the rumours, both in Germany and
England, that he was her affianced husband. But the statement was
premature, for nothing had been settled as yet. Still, though there was
no formal engagement, it came to be gradually understood that the
English Queen and the young Saxon Prince stood in a certain relation of
mutual fidelity, though not of an absolutely binding order. William IV.
had always been greatly opposed to the contemplated match, and formed
various schemes for his niece’s marriage, the most favoured of which had
Prince Alexander of the Netherlands for its object. But there was now no
hindrance in the way of the Queen’s wishes, and everything conspired
towards one result. The Dowager Queen Adelaide subsequently told her
illustrious relative that the King would never have attempted to
influence his niece’s affections, had he known they were bestowed in any
particular quarter. Yet a disagreeable impression had been produced,
which could not be entirely obliterated at a later period.
Attached as she was to the Prince, the Queen desired to postpone the
marriage for a few years, partly because of her cousin’s extreme youth.
The visit of Albert to Windsor Castle in October, 1839, however, decided
the matter. It was indeed the desire and intention of the Prince himself
to come to a definite understanding on the question. He considered, not
unreasonably, that if he was to keep himself free, and to decline any
other career which might seem likely, he ought to have some positive
assurance that the engagement, of which so much had been said, would
really be carried out. He even admitted in after life that he was not
without some fear lest the Queen should be playing on his feelings. It
must be recollected, however, that the position of her Majesty, as a
sovereign, from whom the first advances must proceed, and yet as a
woman, from whom a certain reserve is expected, was one of great
difficulty. In the autumn of 1839, the Prince had resolved to declare
himself free, if further postponement were required; but the course of
events made it quite unnecessary that he should speak to any such
effect. Her Majesty was unable to resist the combined force of the young
Prince’s good looks and fascinating manners. All previous hesitation
disappeared, and, on the 14th of October, she informed Lord Melbourne of
her intention. The Premier, we are told, showed the greatest
satisfaction at the announcement, adding the expression of his
conviction that it would not only make the Queen’s position more
comfortable, but would be well received by the country, which was
anxious for her marriage.[8] “A woman,” he observed, “cannot stand alone
for any time, in whatever position she may be.” On the following day, an
understanding was come to between the parties chiefly concerned, and all
that remained was the execution of the formal arrangements. A month
later (November 14th), the Prince and his elder brother left London for
Wiesbaden, where they found the King of the Belgians and Baron Stockmar
awaiting them. This was a time of great letter-writing, and a
communication from Stockmar to the Baroness Lehzen (one of the
governesses of the Princess Victoria), dated December 15th, 1839, is
particularly noticeable.
“With sincere pleasure,” writes the Baron, “I assure you, the more I
see of the Prince, the better I esteem and like him. His intellect is
so sound and clear, his nature so unspoiled, so childlike, so
predisposed to goodness as well as truth, that only two external
elements will be required to make of him a truly distinguished Prince.
The first of these will be the opportunity to acquire a proper knowledge
of men and of the world; the second will be intercourse with Englishmen
of experience, culture, and integrity, by whom he may be made thoroughly
conversant with their nation and constitution.... As regards his future
relation to the Queen, I have a confident hope that they will make each
other happy by mutual love, confidence, and esteem. As I have known the
Queen, she was always quick and acute in her perceptions;
straightforward, moreover, of singular purity of heart, without a trace
of vanity or pretension. She will consequently do full justice to the
Prince’s head and heart; and, if this be so, and the Prince be really
loved by the Queen, and recognised for what he is, then his position
will be right in the main, especially if he manage at the same time to
secure the good will of the nation. Of course he will have storms to
encounter, and disagreeables, like other people, especially those of
exalted rank. But, if he really possess the love of the Queen and the
respect of the nation, I will answer for it, that after every storm he
will come safely into port. You will therefore have my entire approval,
if you think the best course is, to leave him to his own clear head, his
sound feeling, and excellent disposition.”
It was the original intention of the Queen to make the first
notification of her contemplated marriage to Parliament; but she
afterwards considered that the Privy Council was the fittest body for
the purpose. The Council met on the 23rd of November at Buckingham
Palace--an unusually large assemblage of eighty-three members. Wearing a
bracelet with the Prince’s portrait--which, as she subsequently recorded
in her Journal, “seemed to give her courage”--her Majesty read to the
Council a declaration of her intention to contract a union, of which she
declared her belief that it would at once secure her domestic felicity,
and serve the interests of her country. Prince Albert of Saxe-Coburg and
Gotha was indicated as the object of her choice; and the declaration
concluded with the words:--“I have thought fit to make this resolution
known to you at the earliest period, in order that you may be apprised
of a matter so highly important to me and to my kingdom, and which, I
persuade myself, will be most acceptable to all my loving subjects.”
When the Queen had finished reading, Lord Lansdowne rose, and asked, in
the name of the Council, that her Majesty’s welcome communication might
be printed. Leave was given, and the declaration was published in the
next _Gazette_, whence it was copied into the newspapers. Some
intelligence of the statement to be made to the Privy Council had found
its way into the public mind; and, on leaving the Palace, her Majesty
was cheered with more than usual warmth.
The announcement to the Legislature was made in the Queen’s Speech at
the opening of the next session, January 16th, 1840. At the same time,
her Majesty expressed her conviction that Parliament would provide for
such an establishment as might appear suitable to the rank of the
Prince and the dignity of the Crown. In the meanwhile, some difficulties
had arisen with regard to various matters of detail. The settlement of
the Prince’s household was no very easy business. With admirable sense,
Albert wrote to her Majesty on the
[Illustration: THE MARQUIS OF LANSDOWNE.]
10th of December, 1839:--“I should wish particularly that the selection
should be made without regard to politics, for, if I am really to keep
myself free from all parties, my people must not belong exclusively to
one side. Above all, these appointments should not be mere ‘party
rewards,’ but they should possess some other recommendation, besides
that of political connection. Let the men be either of very high rank,
or very accomplished, or very clever, or persons who have performed
important services for England. It is very necessary they should be
chosen from both sides--the same number of Whigs as of Tories; and,
above all, it is my wish that they should be men well educated and of
high character, who, as I have said, shall have already distinguished
themselves in their several
[Illustration: INTERIOR OF THE CHAPEL ROYAL, ST. JAMES’S.]
positions, whether it be in the army or navy, or the scientific world. I
am satisfied you will look upon this matter precisely as I do, and I
shall be much pleased if you will communicate what I have said to Lord
Melbourne, so that he may be fully aware of my views.”
These most reasonable suggestions were disregarded, and, without any
consultation of the Prince’s wishes on a matter which closely concerned
himself, the post of Private Secretary was conferred on Mr. Anson, who
had long discharged the same functions for the Premier. This was
evidently another attempt of the Whig Ministry to obtain a permanent
influence over the Palace. Prince Albert protested against the
appointment, only to be told that the matter had gone too far for
withdrawal. Fortunately, however, Mr. Anson showed, in the discharge of
his duties, an entire absence of party predilections, together with many
positive qualities which won the high esteem of the Prince. A question
much debated at the time was as to whether the Queen’s husband should be
made a peer of the realm, as had been done in the case of Queen Anne’s
consort, Prince George of Denmark; but Prince Albert himself resisted
the suggestion, which was certainly one of very questionable wisdom. The
consideration of precedence was also a knotty point. The Queen desired
that her husband should take precedence immediately after herself; but
her uncle, the King of Hanover, refused to waive his right, and the Duke
of Wellington, speaking on behalf of the Tory peers, declined to
consent. The question was afterwards withdrawn from the Naturalisation
Bill to which it had been attached, and was settled by an exercise of
the Royal Prerogative, which, as a species of compromise, both political
parties accepted. By letters patent, issued on the 5th of March, 1840,
it was provided that the Prince should thenceforth, “upon all occasions,
and in all meetings, except when otherwise provided by Act of
Parliament, have, hold, and enjoy, place, pre-eminence, and precedence
next to her Majesty.”
There were worse subjects of dissension, however, than those already
mentioned. No sooner was the announcement of the Royal marriage made
public than sinister rumours arose that the Prince was a Roman Catholic.
Others averred that he was an infidel. But the most damaging because the
most definite charge was that of being a Papist; and this was
strengthened by the singular and very careless omission of any reference
to the Prince’s religion in the declaration to the Privy Council and to
Parliament. King Leopold of Belgium saw the imprudence of giving the
least opportunity for doubt or cavil; but Ministers would not or could
not recognise the danger. Debates took place in both Houses in the
discussion on the Address, and, in the House of Lords, the Duke of
Wellington carried a motion for introducing the word “Protestant” into
the Congratulatory Address to the Queen. It was on this occasion that
Lord Brougham, referring to some observations of Lord Melbourne, made
use of the memorable words:--“I may remark that my noble friend is
mistaken as to the law. There is no prohibition as to marriage with a
Catholic. It is only attended with a penalty, and that penalty is
_merely the forfeiture of the Crown_.” The Protestantism of Prince
Albert was in truth well known, and so was that of his family, with but
few exceptions. In a letter to the Queen, dated December 7th, 1839, the
Prince said:--“There has not been a single Catholic Princess introduced
into the Coburg family since the appearance of Luther in 1521.
Moreover, the Elector, Frederick the Wise of Saxony, was the very first
Protestant [Protestant Prince?] that ever lived.” Still, it was remiss
of the Government not to make the desired declaration, especially as
some of the Prince’s relatives had become Romanists. People generally
have but little historic knowledge; and indeed the subject was one which
history did not much avail to settle.
While the Lords were raising a question as to the Protestantism of the
Prince, and making difficulties in the matter of precedency, the Commons
were considering the position of the new-comer from a financial point of
view. On the 24th of January, 1840, Lord John Russell moved “that her
Majesty be enabled to grant an annual sum of £50,000 out of the
Consolidated Fund for a provision to Prince Albert, to commence on the
day of his marriage with her Majesty, and to continue during his life.”
Three days after, Mr. Joseph Hume, faithful to his character as a
guardian of the public purse, moved as an amendment that £21,000,
instead of £50,000, be voted annually to Prince Albert. He would even
have preferred that no grant whatever should be made to the Prince
during her Majesty’s lifetime; but in this respect he had yielded to the
wishes of his friends. Mr. Hume asked what was to be done with such a
sum as the Government proposed to grant, and courteously remarked that
Lord John Russell must know the danger of setting a young man down in
London with so much money in his pockets. The amendment was lost by 305
votes against 38--a majority so enormous that it might well have
discouraged any further opposition. Yet, on the very same evening,
Colonel Sibthorp, a member of the Tory Opposition, moved that £30,000
should be the extent of the annuity, and, being supported by nearly all
the Conservatives, as well as by the Radicals, and even some of the
Whigs, he carried his proposal by 262 votes against 158. There was in
truth a good deal to be said in favour of the smaller sum, though the
suggestion roused Lord John Russell almost to fury, as if an actual
personal affront to the Queen were intended. The country was in great
distress; agriculture and manufactures were alike suffering; the poverty
of large classes was extreme; taxation was oppressively heavy; and the
revenue showed an ever-increasing deficit. Under these circumstances,
the reduction of the annuity was essentially just and fair. The matter
was decided on the 27th of January--the same day that the Government
were so strenuously resisted in the House of Lords on the Precedency
question as to see the necessity of separating it from the
Naturalisation Bill. These circumstances induced in Prince Albert, for a
short time, a fear lest his marriage to the Queen would not be popular
with the English people; but he was soon undeceived on this point by the
representations of his friends in England.
On the day following Colonel Sibthorp’s successful amendment with
respect to the annuity, the Prince, accompanied by Lord Torrington and
Colonel (afterwards General) Grey, who had been sent to invest him with
the insignia of the Garter, and conduct him ceremoniously to England,
set out from Gotha, accompanied by his father and brother. In the
course of the journey, King Leopold was visited at Brussels, and the
party then proceeded to Calais, where they were met by Lord Clarence
Paget, commanding the _Firebrand_, in which the Prince and his
companions were conveyed to the shores of Kent. They landed at Dover on
the 6th of February, and met with a very hearty reception. This was
repeated at Canterbury, and at every other place along the line of
route,
[Illustration: COURTYARD OF ST. JAMES’S PALACE.]
while at London the enthusiasm was marked and unmistakable. Buckingham
Palace was reached on the afternoon of February 8th, when the Prince
found her Majesty and the Duchess of Kent waiting at the door to greet
him. In a little while, the Lord Chancellor administered the oath of
naturalisation, and a banquet followed in the evening. The Prince was
fairly settled in his new home.
The marriage was celebrated in the Chapel Royal, St. James’s, on the
10th of February, 1840. An unusually large crowd assembled in St.
James’s Park and its approaches, notwithstanding the severity of the
weather, which did not become sunny until after the return of the bridal
party from the chapel. Prince Albert wore the uniform of a British Field
Marshal, with the insignia of the Garter, the jewels of which had been
presented to him by the Queen. On one side of the carriage sat the
Prince’s father, on the other side his brother; both in uniform. A
squadron of Life Guards formed the escort to the chapel, and the
bridegroom was loudly cheered. Her Majesty soon afterwards
[Illustration: DUKE ERNEST, OF SAXE COBURG-GOTHA, PRINCE ALBERT’S
BROTHER.]
followed, with the Duchesses of Kent and Sutherland. She looked pale and
anxious, but smiled every now and then at little incidents occurring
among the crowd. The somewhat dusky old palace was brightened up for the
occasion by temporary decorations, and still more by the presence of
splendidly-dressed ladies, picturesque officials, gentlemen-at-arms,
yeomen of the guard, heralds, pages, and cuirassiers. The altar of the
Chapel Royal was set out with a great deal of gold plate, and four State
chairs were provided for the Queen, Prince Albert, the Queen Dowager
(Adelaide), and the Duchess of Kent. The ceremony was performed by the
Archbishops of Canterbury and York, and the Bishop of London. All
present admired the calm grace and dignified deportment of the Prince;
but of course the great object of interest was the Queen herself. She
looked excited and nervous, and, according to a letter from the Dowager
Lady Lyttelton (one of the ladies-in-waiting), her eyes were swollen
with tears, although great happiness appeared in her countenance. The
Duchess of Kent is said to have been disconsolate and distressed; while
the Duke of Sussex, who gave away the bride, was in the gayest spirits.
The _John Bull_--a high Tory journal, edited by Theodore Hook, the motto
of which was, “For God, the Sovereign, and the People!”--remarked that
the Duke of Sussex was always ready to give away what did not belong to
him. It should be understood that the sovereign whom Hook set up his
paper to champion was George IV., and that therefore it was no great
inconsistency to insult a Royal Duke who was also a Liberal, and the
uncle of a Liberal monarch. The Royal Family, as we have seen, were not
very popular with the Tories of that date. At the Queen’s marriage, only
two Conservative peers were present: the Duke of Wellington and Lord
Liverpool.[9]
As her Majesty was returning to Buckingham Palace, it was observed that
the paleness and anxiety of the morning had given place to a bright
flush, and a more unrestrained and joyous manner. After the wedding
breakfast, the newly-married couple left for Windsor, on reaching which
they found the whole town illuminated. A cordial reception from the
residents, and from the Eton boys, sufficiently declared the sentiment
of affectionate respect with which the Queen and Prince were regarded in
the Royal Borough.
[Illustration: MARRIAGE OF QUEEN VICTORIA. (_See p. 70._)
(_After the Painting by Sir George Hayter, R.A._)]
CHAPTER V.
THE FIRST YEAR OF MARRIED LIFE.
Difficulties of the Early Married Life of Prince Albert--His
Unpopularity in Certain Quarters--Attempt to Suppress Duelling in
the Army--Position of the Prince in the Royal Household--Want of
Supervision in the Management of the Palace--Introduction of
Reforms, on the Initiative of Prince Albert--Duties Assumed by the
Prince--Domestic Life--Post Office Reform--Defective State of the
Service Previous to 1840--Rowland Hill and the Penny
Post--Opposition to the New Scheme--Introduction of the Lower Rate
of Postage--General Features and Effects of the Change--Measure for
the Protection of Children Employed in Chimney-sweeping--Attempt of
Edward Oxford to Shoot the Queen--Appointment of Prince Albert as
Regent under certain Eventualities--Life and Studies at
Windsor--Birth of the Princess Royal--Devotion of the Prince to her
Majesty--Christmas at Windsor (1840)--Christening of the
Princess--Accident to Prince Albert--The Eastern Question: Turkey
and Egypt--Removal of the Body of Napoleon I. from St. Helena to
Paris--Rise and Development of the Agitation for Free Trade.
Having stayed three days at Windsor Castle, her Majesty and the Prince
returned to Buckingham Palace. On the 28th of February the Duke of
Coburg left for Germany, and his son had now to enter on the ordinary
routine of life, such as life is in that exalted station. The position
of the Prince was no doubt extremely difficult, and at first it appeared
almost unbearably irksome. Nothing could surpass the mutual love and
confidence of the newly-wedded pair, and, as regarded the great mass of
the English people, the bridegroom was popular. But he was scanned with
jealous dislike by a large section of the aristocracy; he had not the
particular kind of disposition best fitted for overcoming that dislike;
and some of the incidents which preceded his arrival in England were
certainly of a nature to vex and discourage. On the whole, he bore his
probation well; yet we now know that, in private, he used expressions of
annoyance which showed how deeply he had been wounded. His letter to the
Queen, complaining of the appointment of Mr. Anson as his Private
Secretary, was rather querulous in tone, however just in argument. In
another letter to her Majesty, written from Brussels on the 1st of
February, 1840, he spoke of the vote on Colonel Sibthorp’s amendment
with respect to the annuity as “most unseemly”--which it clearly was
not; and in May of the same year he wrote to his friend Prince
Löwenstein that he was “only the husband, and not the master in the
house.” All these opposing facts and feelings boded evil for the future.
In some degree, the very virtues of Prince Albert’s character stood in
the way of his rapidly making friends, though a feeling of respect was
not slow in arising. His manners were reserved and distant, and people
mistook for haughtiness what was nothing more than the disinclination of
a reflective and sequestered nature to enter heartily into the
promiscuous and not always very sincere intercourse of what is called
general society. He was considered cold and ungenial, and it is probable
that to some he really was so. To those whom he truly loved, and whose
natures were sympathetic with his own, he could be a most delightful
companion; but this, of course, was no compensation to courtiers who
expected to find in him a facile man of the world, but whose frivolities
repelled and wearied him. In truth, he was something of a formalist, and
formalism is the quality, of all others, which generally makes
Englishmen feel most uneasy. One of his favourite ideas was to promote
the abolition of duelling in the British army by the substitution of
courts of arbitration on questions of personal honour. The Duke of
Wellington and other leaders gave some heed to this proposal; but it had
no great prospect of success, and in time ceased to be talked about.
Nevertheless, it must be allowed that the agitation of this subject by
Prince Albert, in 1843, co-operated with other causes to put down the
foolish and wicked practice against which his Royal Highness sought to
make provision. When Queen Victoria ascended the throne, duelling was
frequent. In twelve or thirteen years, it had almost entirely died out,
killed by the ridicule and the awakened moral sense of all reasonable
men.
The question of the Prince’s position in the Royal Household was
indisputably one of no little importance. The young husband possessed
(as we find it stated by one well qualified to speak on the subject) “no
independent authority by right of his position, and could exercise none,
even within his own household, without trenching upon the privileges of
others, who were not always disposed to admit of interference. This
could scarcely fail to embarrass his position in the midst of a vast
Royal establishment, which had inherited many of the abuses of former
reigns, and where he found much of which he could not approve, but yet
was without the power to rectify. And as behind every abuse there is
always some one interested in maintaining it, he could not but be aware
that he was regarded with no friendly eyes by those who were in that
position, and who naturally dreaded the presence among them of one so
visibly intolerant of worthlessness and incapacity.”[10] The consequence
was that the Prince sometimes found himself in collision with
functionaries who would scarcely allow him any authority whatever, and
especially with Madame Lehzen, then the Private Secretary of the Queen,
who seems to have presumed too much on her Majesty’s affection for her
former governess. Confusion and extravagance, delay and discomfort,
reigned within the Palace; the Queen and the Prince were equally
inconvenienced and annoyed; yet, although some reforms were effected at
an earlier period, it was not until 1844 that the system was radically
altered.
There was in fact no master of the Royal dwelling, because there were
too many masters. The control of affairs was divided by the Lord
Steward, the Lord Chamberlain, and the Master of the Horse; but no one
of these was superior to the other two, and each acted in his department
with entire independence. As their position was bound up with that of
the Ministry, change was frequent, and an adverse vote in the House of
Commons, on a question wholly political, would deprive the Queen of
servants who were perhaps only just beginning to understand their work;
for the appointments were made solely on party grounds, and
[Illustration: BUCKINGHAM PALACE--GARDEN FRONT.]
without any reference to fitness for the post. The apportionment of
functions and responsibilities was often most bewildering in its nicety
and complex elaboration; so that particular matters would be left
without any supervision whatever, because it was impossible to determine
whose business it was to look after them. Baron Stockmar, who, early in
1841, had drawn up a Memorandum on the subject at the request of the
Queen and Prince Albert, wrote, with a certain sense of humour in the
midst of his grave exposition, that the Lord Steward found the fuel and
laid the fire, while the Lord Chamberlain lighted it; that, in the same
manner, the Lord Chamberlain provided all the lamps, while it was the
duty of the Lord Steward to clean, trim, and light them. The commonest
repairs, such as are required in every house, could not be executed
without the order passing through so many hands that months frequently
elapsed before the desired result could be effected. The state of
things, indeed, was such that Dickens’s Circumlocution Office can hardly
be regarded as an exaggeration.
“As neither the Lord Chamberlain nor the Master of the Horse,” said
Baron Stockmar, “has a regular deputy residing in the Palace, more than
two-thirds of all the male and female servants are left without a master
in the house. They can come and go off duty as they choose; they can
remain absent hours and hours on their days of waiting, or they may
commit any excess or irregularity; there is nobody to observe, to
correct, or to reprimand them. There is no officer responsible for the
cleanliness, order, and security of the rooms and offices throughout the
Palace.” The laxity of the system was so extreme as to be attended by
certain very positive dangers. During the years 1840-41, a young
chimney-sweep was more than once discovered hiding in one of the
apartments. “The boy Jones” became the talk of the town; but the
incident was decidedly unpleasant, although the lad does not seem to
have had any evil intent. No such circumstance could have happened with
any proper system of supervision; but of system there was positively
none. Yet it was a matter of the utmost difficulty to bring about a
change in this chaos of incompetence and corruption; and Sir Robert
Peel, when consulted on the subject in 1841, deprecated any reform which
should seem to impair the authority of the great officers of State.
Prince Albert, however, held resolutely to his purpose, and, about the
close of 1844, the heads of the several departments were induced to
confer on the Master of the Household absolute authority over the whole
internal economy of the Palace. From that time forward the Royal
dwelling was managed with intelligence and economy.
In relation to the State the position of the Prince was even more beset
with thorns than in respect of his domestic arrangements. It was
impossible that he should cut himself off from all interest in the great
events of the time; yet he had no place in the Constitution, and it was
most necessary that he should avoid even the semblance of interfering in
the politics of the country on which he had been affiliated. His own
idea was to constitute himself the Private Secretary and confidential
adviser of the Queen; and this was the position which, after a while, he
actually filled. He read the foreign despatches which it is the duty of
Government to submit to the sovereign before sending them out; he wrote
notes for the guidance of her Majesty’s judgment, and in many ways
assisted the youth and inexperience of one who had been called, without
much preparation, to the discharge of onerous duties. The suggestions of
the Prince were not seldom accepted by Ministers; though of course it
was necessary to regard them as coming from the Queen, as, indeed, by
adoption they did. The domestic life of this period was cheered and
exalted by reading, by music, by art, and by frequent visits to the
theatre, especially to witness the plays of Shakespeare, then
interpreted by a school of actors who in these days have scarcely any
successors. Occasional visits to Claremont relieved the oppressive
monotony of London existence.
A few weeks before the marriage of Prince Albert, a social and
administrative reform had been begun in Great Britain, which must have
possessed a very deep interest for his humane and liberal mind. For many
years, the Postage system of the country had been in a state wholly
inadequate to the requirements of modern civilisation. When a regular
Post Office was established in the reign of Charles I. (all
communication until then being occasional and precarious), the number of
persons who could read and write was small, and the needs of the public
were proportionably trivial. But in the middle of the nineteenth century
it was imperative that the transmission of letters should be cheap,
rapid, and facile. Facile and cheap it certainly was not, and before the
full elaboration of the railway system there could be no rapidity in the
modern sense of the term. Education was spreading; yet, to relatives and
friends divided by a few miles, the expense of a letter was so great
that, in many instances, people forbore from writing altogether, or
resorted to a number of curious and dishonest tricks for sending and
obtaining some sort of intelligence without paying for it. Within a
small radius of Charing Cross, London, letters of moderate weight could
be transmitted for twopence; but beyond these bounds the tariff was so
high as to be prohibitory to all humble folk. The variations in the
scale were determined not merely by distance, but also by the weight,
and even the size of a letter. For transmission between London and
Brighton the charge was eightpence, while nothing could be sent from
London to Aberdeen under one shilling and threepence-halfpenny; and the
letters so taxed were not to exceed a single sheet, or they paid extra.
Peers, members of the House of Commons, and Cabinet Ministers, had the
right of “franking,” as the phrase was; that is, by writing their names
on the outsides of letters, whether their own or those of other persons,
they could secure their free conveyance. In the case of Ministers this
privilege was without limits; in the other cases, the right was confined
to a certain proportion of letters in the course of the year. The system
of franking was bad in every way. It deprived the revenue of what was
legitimately its due; it caused a large amount of petty vexation to the
holders of the privilege; it humiliated those who went begging for the
favour; and it spared the very people who were best able to afford the
expenses of the post.
No one requires to be told that, taking the whole mass of the
population, there were but few persons sufficiently intimate with the
great ones of the earth to obtain franks. The less fortunate were
therefore driven to expedients of their own to evade a pressure which
they were unable to bear. Illicit agencies for
[Illustration: PRINCE ALBERT’S MUSIC ROOM, BUCKINGHAM PALACE.
(_From a Photograph by Mr. H. N. King._)]
the transmission of letters at a cheaper rate were formed in various
parts of the kingdom, and these were much employed by mercantile and
manufacturing firms, who saved largely by the device. People lower in
the scale exercised their wits in a number of contrivances, which were
often extremely ingenious, and which it is impossible either to defend,
or seriously to accuse. Newspapers were marked with strange dots and
other understood symbols, which conveyed a few general facts from the
sender to the recipient. Sometimes two or three words were written on
one of the margins; but this was very likely to be detected. A much
safer plan was to despatch a blank sheet of paper duly directed, the
mere sight of which would sufficiently assure B, who received, that A,
who sent, was alive and well. The letter could then be at once returned
to the postman, on the plea that the postage could not be afforded. An
incident of this nature came under the observation of Coleridge when
wandering about the
[Illustration: MR. (AFTERWARDS SIR) ROWLAND HILL.]
Lake district in the days of his early manhood; and there can be little
doubt that the same thing was frequently done in many successive years.
The evils of the Postal system were slightly mitigated by these
stratagems, but only slightly; and, as a rule, the poor were almost
entirely deprived of the knowledge of one another, if fifty miles or so
separated the brother from the sister, or the mother from the son.
Nevertheless, the revenue suffered from the several schemes for evading
the high rates of postage. Between 1815 and 1835 the population of Great
Britain increased thirty per cent.; education had made some progress;
and travelling was so much more common that the stage-coach duty (though
the railway system had begun by the latter year) had increased one
hundred and twenty-eight per cent. Yet during the same time the receipts
of the Post Office underwent no augmentation whatever, if, indeed, they
did not fall off. It is clear, therefore, that the secret and illicit
post must have enjoyed a good deal of patronage, though rather in the
middle than the lower class. The objections to the Postal system were
many and glaring. It was needlessly onerous, the average charge on every
letter throughout the United Kingdom being as much as sixpence-farthing;
it encouraged fraud; it hindered the natural intercommunication of the
poor; it was capricious and uncertain in its operation; and it included
a great deal of most offensive spying, to ascertain whether suspected
letters contained more than the regulation number of pages. Still, owing
to the force of habit, it survived years of obloquy, until a genius
arose capable of organising a better method.
Mr. Rowland Hill (subsequently Sir Rowland) was the third son of Mr.
Thomas Wright Hill, of Kidderminster, and afterwards of Birmingham, and
brother of Matthew Davenport Hill, an eminent lawyer, politician, and
reformer, whose name is identified with the more humane treatment of
juvenile offenders. Delicate in health from his childhood, young Rowland
showed a premature genius for figures, and a still greater genius for
organisation. In 1833, when about thirty-eight years of age, he was
appointed Secretary to the South Australian Commission, and was largely
instrumental in founding the colony of South Australia. It was about
this time that his attention was first directed towards the Postal
system, and early in 1837 he published a pamphlet on “Post Office
Reform: its Importance and Practicability.” He had observed that the
number of letters passing through the post bore a ridiculously small
proportion to the number of the population. His mathematical mind
induced him to make calculations as to the cost of conveyance; and he
found that the expense of transit on each individual letter between
London and Edinburgh--a distance of four hundred miles--was not more
than the thirty-sixth part of a penny. Indeed, the cost was but little
enhanced by distance; and Mr. Hill therefore came to the conclusion
that, if the rates of postage were reduced to the lowest, if the
despatch of letters were made more frequent, and the speed of conveyance
were increased, the revenue would gain instead of lose, to say nothing
of the social boon.
Starting from his well-ascertained datum, that thirty-six letters could
be carried from London to Edinburgh at a cost of a penny, Mr. Hill
strongly urged the desirability of adopting a uniform rate of postage
within the limits of the United Kingdom. That this rate should not be
more than a penny, followed naturally from the proved facts of the case,
and from the obvious justice of giving the public the advantage of a
cheapness which would actually benefit instead of injuring the revenue.
Nevertheless, the opposition to be encountered proved very serious and
harassing. All the persons engaged in the old system were pledged to
resist the new; and it appears to have been really thought that a Penny
Post would entail such difficulties in its organisation as to be
practically impossible. The Postmaster-General, Lord Lichfield, declared
in the House of Lords that the proposed scheme was the wildest and most
extravagant he had ever known. In the opinion of this official, and of
several others, the necessary expenses would be absolutely overwhelming,
while, owing to the immeasurable increase of correspondence, no building
would be large enough to receive the clerks and the letters. This very
argument, however, clearly implied that there was a public want which
the existing system did not supply. On the other hand, many believed
that there would be very little increase in the number of letters, and
that there was, in fact, no real demand for any change whatever.
Some persons, from whom a greater liberality might have been expected,
were as antagonistic to the scheme as if they had been Post Office
officials. The Rev. Sydney Smith, who had been a reformer in his earlier
days, but who was now getting old, spoke of the plan as “nonsensical,”
and as needlessly entailing a loss of a million to the revenue. Rowland
Hill, however, was not a man to be deterred by any amount of difficulty.
He had convinced himself, and ultimately he convinced others, that
letters might be sent to any part of Great Britain and Ireland for the
sum of one penny, and that yet there would be a profit of two hundred
per cent. The uniformity of charge would in itself save a large amount
of time and trouble; and if the postage could be paid in advance, there
would be a still further gain in general convenience. The idea of a
penny letter-stamp was suggested to Mr. Hill by a proposal put forth
some years before by Mr. Charles Knight, the eminent author and
publisher, who thought that the best way of collecting a penny postage
on newspapers would be by the use of stamped covers. This plan was
ultimately adopted for letters, and people at the present day, if they
think at all upon the subject, are astonished how their forefathers
could have gone on from year to year without a method at once so cheap,
so simple, and so admirably adapted to the necessities of the case.
As Mr. Hill was not himself a member of Parliament, it was essential to
his scheme that he should get a spokesman or two in that Assembly. He
was well served by Mr. Warburton and Mr. Wallace, who frequently brought
the subject before the attention of the House of Commons. In February,
1838, Mr. Wallace moved for a select committee to investigate and report
upon the proposed scheme of postal reform; but, as the Government
declared that the matter was under their consideration, the motion was
not carried. Public attention, however, was by this time strongly
directed towards the subject, and numerous petitions were sent up to
Parliament from very influential bodies, praying that the law might be
altered. The Melbourne Ministry began to see that the subject was one
which must shortly be taken in hand, whether in a greater or a less
degree. The natural inclination was, of course, to treat it in the
slightest degree possible, and various minor reforms were proposed,
which only showed that the official position was getting insecure, but
yet that there was a strong disinclination to sanction any radical
change. At length, on the 5th of July, 1839, the Chancellor of the
Exchequer, in bringing forward the annual Budget at an unusually late
period of the session, proposed a resolution declaring it to be
expedient “to reduce the postage on letters to one uniform rate of one
penny, charged upon every letter of a weight to be hereafter fixed by
law; Parliamentary privileges of franking being abolished, and official
franking strictly regulated; this House pledging itself at the same time
to make good any deficiency of revenue which may be occasioned by such
an alteration in the rates of the existing duties.” The evidence
obtained by a committee of the House had shown the absolute need and the
entire practicability of Rowland Hill’s plan. The demand for the
adoption of that plan was now universal, and the Government could no
longer resist a change which was supported by convincing reasons. The
requisite Act of Parliament was rapidly passed, and the law received the
Queen’s sanction before the end of August.
Nevertheless, there was to be an intermediate period, during which the
charge for postage would be at the rate of fourpence for each letter,
half an ounce in weight, within the entire area of the United Kingdom.
This was to save the Post Office from being deluged by a flood of penny
letters, for which the officials would not be all at once prepared. But
on the 10th of January, 1840, the postage was fixed at the uniform rate
of one penny per letter not exceeding half an ounce in weight--a limit
which in 1865 was widened to one ounce. Mulready, the painter, furnished
a design for an official envelope, which, however, was found to be
inconvenient, and was speedily laid aside. The affixed penny stamp was
introduced on the 6th of May, and the system was then fairly
launched--as fairly, that is, as official jealousy would suffer it to
be. Franking was abolished with the introduction of the new method; and,
although the Queen was still entitled to this privilege, she immediately
relinquished it, with that good feeling which has always distinguished
her Majesty’s relations towards her people. The aristocracy, and others
who had enjoyed the invidious right, found even the penny postage a
serious addition to their expenses; but the merchant, the manufacturer,
the tradesman, the middle classes generally, and the poor, were suddenly
invested with a benefit of which they had long been unjustly deprived,
and which proved of the highest value in all the ordinary transactions
of life.
Another social reform in which her Majesty and Prince Albert must have
taken the deepest interest was in some degree associated with the year
1840. On the 7th of August an Act of Parliament was passed with
reference to the employment of children in the sweeping of chimneys. By
the terms of this Act, it was made unlawful for master-sweeps to take
apprentices under sixteen years of age, and no individual under
twenty-one was to ascend a chimney after July 1st, 1842. The law was
made more stringent in 1864; but in the meanwhile it had done an immense
amount of good. The barbarity of the system it supplanted was great
indeed. Boys of tender years, whose ordinary treatment by their
employers was of the roughest kind, were compelled, often by acts of
extreme violence, to ascend chimneys for the purpose of brushing down
the soot. Cases were known in which these poor little creatures were
lost and stifled in the dark, cavernous, and winding passages which they
had to thread. At the
[Illustration: RECEPTION OF THE QUEEN IN HYDE PARK AFTER THE NEWS OF
OXFORD’S ATTEMPT ON HER LIFE.]
best, the suffering was great, and entailed diseases of the joints, of
the eyes, and of the respiratory organs. The system was wholly
inexcusable, for the ramoneur, or jointed brush, now in general use, had
been known for several years. It required an Act of Parliament, however,
to enforce the introduction of this machine, and to protect the
unfortunate children; though, in a very few years after the alteration,
respectable householders wondered how they could have tolerated the
abominable cruelty to which the climbing-boys were subjected.
Between the introduction of the new Postal system and the passing of the
Bill for the protection of youthful sweeps, her Majesty had been exposed
to a danger and an affront which she had probably never anticipated,
though it has been repeated several times since. On the 10th of June,
1840, the Queen was driving up Constitution Hill, in company with Prince
Albert, when she was twice fired at by a pot-boy, seventeen years of
age, named Edward Oxford. Her Majesty turned very pale, and, between the
firing of the first and second shots, rose up in the carriage; but
Prince Albert immediately pulled her down by his side. A pleasing
impression was produced at the time by the thoughtfulness of the Queen
in ordering the carriage to be at once driven to the residence of the
Duchess of Kent, that her mother, who might have heard some rumour of
the occurrence, should see that she was safe. On afterwards driving
through Hyde Park, her Majesty had a most enthusiastic reception from
the fashionable company in the Row. She was ultimately escorted home by
a crowd consisting of all classes, and repeated shouts revealed the
cordiality of the public feeling. On the offender being examined next
day before the Privy Council, he said that, although there were many
witnesses against him, they contradicted each other in several important
particulars. It appeared that he belonged to a secret society called
“Young England,” the rules of which prescribed that every member should,
when ordered to attend a meeting, be armed with a brace of loaded
pistols and a sword, and should also be provided with a black crape cap,
to cover the face. This society, however, does not seem to have had any
wide ramifications, and was probably nothing more than an association of
foolish young people, actuated as much by vanity as by malice. On the
10th of July, Oxford was tried for high treason in its most aggravated
form, including an attempt on the very life of her Majesty. The defence
was based on an allegation of insanity, though there can be little doubt
that Oxford was not insane in any true sense of the word. He was ordered
to be kept in a lunatic asylum during her Majesty’s pleasure; but in
1868 he was set at liberty, on condition of going abroad. It is a
discreditable fact that even members of Parliament applied for locks of
his hair when it was cut off previous to his confinement. Many persons
considered that he ought to have been hanged, and, when similar attempts
were made some two years later, Oxford himself expressed an opinion
that, had he been executed, there would have been no more shooting at
the Queen. In this opinion he was probably right; but the extreme
tenderness of the modern conscience forbade the execution of one whose
criminal folly had, after all, effected no real mischief. After a while,
Oxford seems to have recognised the wickedness of his act, which he
attributed to inordinate vanity; and during his long confinement he
learned the art of graining, and even taught himself some modern
languages. His attempt, however, was a very grave evil, and, even
supposing there had been no bullets in the pistols (as Oxford, perhaps
truthfully, alleged), might have produced serious consequences. “My
chief anxiety,” wrote Prince Albert shortly afterwards, “was lest the
fright should have been injurious to the Queen in her present state.”
One good effect was the increased popularity both of the Queen and of
her husband, who were received with genuine enthusiasm whenever they
appeared in public.
The condition of her Majesty in the summer of 1840 rendered it advisable
that a Regency should be appointed, in case of her approaching
confinement terminating in a manner which all would have deplored. The
Queen’s own wish was that Prince Albert should be named as Regent; but
of course it was necessary to carry a Bill to this effect through
Parliament, and it was feared that, as in the case of the Naturalisation
Bill and the measure for granting an annuity, there might be some
difficulties of a vexatious nature, unless an understanding could be
previously arrived at with the leaders of the Opposition. The Duke of
Sussex was known to dislike conferring this position on Prince Albert,
and to favour the idea of creating a Council of Regency, in which he
himself would be a prominent member. Baron Stockmar, therefore, opened
communications with Sir Robert Peel and the Duke of Wellington, and the
matter was speedily arranged. A Bill appointing Prince Albert to the
office of Regent in the case supposed was introduced into the Upper
House on the 13th of July, and passed with no other dissentient voice
than that of the Duke of Sussex. The measure was equally successful in
the House of Commons, and it was generally agreed that the father, as
the natural guardian of any offspring, was the fittest person to
exercise supreme power in the name of the Royal infant, until he or she
had attained the legal majority. On the other hand, there was the
objection that the actual ruler of the country during many years would
be a born foreigner; but, as this had happened several times before in
the history of England, it was held to be no serious obstacle to an
arrangement otherwise satisfactory.
On the 11th of September, Prince Albert was made a member of the Privy
Council, and, having been recently appointed to the Colonelcy of the
11th Hussars, he went out from time to time with a squadron of the 1st
Life Guards in Windsor Park, in order to make himself acquainted with
the forms of English drill, and the words of command. During the same
autumn months, he was much occupied with a series of readings on the
laws and Constitution of England, under the care of Mr. Selwyn, a
distinguished writer on jurisprudence. He and the Queen were then
residing at Windsor, the green and woody surroundings of which were an
endless source of delight to the Prince. But an event was now
approaching which rendered a return to Buckingham Palace advisable. The
London residence of her Majesty was re-entered on the 13th of November,
and, during the same month, Baron Stockmar, who had left England for his
home in Coburg at the beginning of August, returned to London at the
urgent solicitation of the Prince, who desired to have that admirable
friend and counsellor at hand during a period of natural anxiety. On the
21st of November, 1840, the Princess Royal was born, and, although the
Prince was a little disappointed at the infant not being a son, the
feeling was but momentary. His devotion to the Queen during her
confinement was constant, and beyond all praise. He generally dined with
the Duchess of Kent, refused to go out in the evening, and was always at
hand if anything were required. “No one but himself,” says a memorandum
by her Majesty in an official work on the Prince’s early life, “ever
lifted her from her bed to her sofa, and he always helped to wheel her
on her bed or sofa into the next room. For this purpose he would come
instantly when sent for from any part of the house. As years went on,
and he became overwhelmed with work (for his attentions were the same in
all the Queen’s subsequent confinements), this was often done at much
inconvenience to himself; but he ever came with a sweet smile on his
face. In short, his care of her was like that of a mother; nor could
there be a kinder, wiser, or more judicious nurse.”[11] Her Majesty
recovered so rapidly that the Court removed to Windsor Castle for the
Christmas holidays. The Prince was always much interested in the
ceremonies of that season, and it was now that the pretty German custom
of setting up Christmas-trees, as a graceful means of distributing
little presents both to old and young, was introduced into England. The
Court returned to Buckingham Palace on the 23rd of January, 1841, and
Parliament was opened by the Queen in person on the 26th. Her Majesty
had but recently told the Prince that in former days she was only too
happy to be in London, and felt wretched at leaving it; but that since
the hour of their marriage she was unhappy at leaving the country, and
could be content never to go to town. This pleased him, as showing an
increasing solidity of mind, which found greater pleasure in the quiet
yet joyous delights of the country than in the giddy amusements of the
metropolis.
The baptism of the Princess Royal took place on the 10th of February,
the first anniversary of the Queen’s marriage, when the infant was
christened Victoria Adelaide Mary Louisa. The Prince, in writing, on the
12th of February, 1841, to his grandmother, the Dowager Duchess of
Gotha, said that the christening had gone off very well. “Your little
great-grandchild,” he added, “behaved with great propriety, and like a
Christian. She was awake, but did not cry at all, and seemed to crow
with immense satisfaction at the lights and brilliant uniforms, for she
is very intelligent and observing. The ceremony took place at half-past
six P.M.; and after it there was a dinner, and then we had some
instrumental music. The health of the little one was drunk with great
enthusiasm.” The sponsors at the christening were the Duke of Saxe
Coburg and Gotha (represented in his absence by the Duke of Wellington),
the King of the Belgians, the Queen Dowager, the Duchess of Gloucester,
the Duchess of Kent, and the Duke of Sussex. Only the day before, the
Prince had met with an accident, which might have proved fatal. He was
skating on the ornamental water in Buckingham Palace Gardens, when a
piece of ice, which had been recently broken, and had thinly frozen over
again, gave way as he was passing across it. He had to swim for two or
three minutes, in order to get out; but her Majesty, who was standing on
the bank, showed great presence of mind, and afforded valuable
assistance.
During the last two years, the Queen had been rendered anxious by
[Illustration: CHRISTENING OF THE PRINCESS ROYAL. (_After the Painting
by C. R. Leslie, R.A._)]
complications in the East, which at one time threatened to involve us in
a war with France. The Pasha of Egypt, Mehemet Ali, had for some years
made himself almost independent of the Turkish Sultan, Mahmoud II., and
had annexed the whole of Syria to his recognised dominions. He had an
able, energetic, and martial son (or rather an adopted son) named
Ibrahim Pasha, who repeatedly worsted the Ottoman forces, overran the
larger part of the Turkish dominions in Asia, and even threatened
Constantinople itself. After a while, a compromise was effected, by
which the Egyptians withdrew from their more advanced positions, but
were suffered to retain the province of Syria. This arrangement was
concluded in 1833; but, six years later, Mehemet Ali again rose against
his suzerain. Mahmoud II. expired on the 1st of July, 1839, shortly
after a great battle in Syria, which had ended in the discomfiture of
his army, but of which he had not received intelligence at the time of
his decease. A few days later, the Capitan Pasha, or Lord High Admiral,
Achmet, deserted to Mehemet Ali with the whole of the Turkish fleet, and
the Ottoman Empire might have been rent into fragments, had it not been
for the interposition of England, Russia, Austria, and Prussia, which,
in July, 1840, gave Mehemet Ali to understand that he would not be
permitted to proceed in his career of rebellion and conquest. Thus
assisted, the young Turkish Sultan, Abdul-Medjid, pronounced the
deposition of his Egyptian vassal. Beyrout was bombarded by a combined
English, Austrian, and Turkish fleet, and captured in October. Other
successes followed, and old Mehemet Ali made his submission to superior
power. He was deprived of all his conquests, but permitted to retain
Egypt; and thus a very difficult state of affairs was brought to a
peaceful conclusion about the close of 1840. There had been no little
danger of a rupture with France, owing to the very different views of
the Eastern Question taken by that Power and by England. France dreaded
the establishment of British influence in Egypt, where she desired to
affirm her own superiority; and in the spring of 1840 M. Guizot was sent
on a special mission to London, in the hope of composing matters. The
Queen received him graciously; yet he has left an account of a dinner at
Buckingham Palace, which confirms other descriptions as to the dulness
and languor of those entertainments. His negotiations did not proceed
very happily; but at length the clouds passed off, and, shortly after
the birth of the Princess Royal, all menace of a European war had
entirely disappeared.
A minor but still important incident, belonging to the same period,
tended to the creation of a better feeling between England and France,
and, in a not distant future, helped forward a striking change in the
political condition of the latter country. In May, 1840, during the
reign of Louis Philippe, the body of Napoleon I. was removed, by
permission of the English Government, from the island of St. Helena to
the dominions where the great conqueror had once held such brilliant,
yet disastrous, sway. On the 15th of December, the remains were buried
with solemn pomp in the Hôtel des Invalides, in Paris. A magnificent
monument has since been erected over the grave, and it cannot be
doubted that the enthusiasm awakened by the reception of the mighty
soldier’s ashes had much to do with the subsequent revival of the
Napoleonic Empire.
A question of great importance, which had been growing up for years, was
now acquiring a degree of prominence which renders it advisable that
some notice should be taken of its rise and development. The Corn Laws
of England had long operated not only as a serious interference with the
trade of the country, but as an artificial aggravation of the price of
food. From time to time, various attempts had been made to lighten the
burden by making the tax dependent on the price of native wheat; but the
injury to the populace was always considerable, and the benefit, if
there was any benefit at all, was enjoyed simply by the landowners and
the agricultural class. Strange to say, the great body of the people,
who were chiefly interested in the matter, made little remonstrance
during a long term of years, and it required the persistent efforts of
an organised body to excite the necessary amount of opposition to an
impost which did cruel injustice to the multitude. An association for
obtaining the repeal of the Corn Laws was established in London in 1834,
and other bodies, animated by the same intention, arose in different
parts of the country. Still, their influence was but slight; and it was
not until the work was taken up by men peculiarly fitted to carry on the
discussion, that the country recognised the evils of a system which made
the poor man’s loaf dearer than it ought to be.
In 1804, a small landed proprietor near Midhurst, in Sussex, had a son
born to him, who was afterwards the celebrated Richard Cobden. The boy
was soon introduced to business life in London, and subsequently became
a partner in a Manchester printed-cotton factory, for which he
occasionally travelled. In this way he saw a good deal of the world,
and, being a person of a singularly shrewd, penetrating, and reflective
mind, he discerned the whole fallacy of the Protective system, and
determined to devote his energies to a repeal of the Corn Laws. In 1838,
he and some others brought the matter before the attention of the
Manchester Chamber of Commerce, and from that time forward the question
came into the first rank of public discussion. The following year,
delegates were sent from the manufacturing districts to London, that
their views upon the subject might be brought under the notice of the
Legislature. At that time, Cobden had no seat in the House of Commons;
but the desired reform was ably supported in that assembly by the
brother of the late Earl of Clarendon, Mr. Charles Villiers, who, so far
as Parliament is concerned, may be described as the Father of Free
Trade. On the 19th of February, 1839, Mr. Villiers moved that the House
resolve itself into a Committee of Inquiry on the Corn Laws; and on the
12th of March he moved that certain manufacturers be heard by counsel at
the bar of the House against the Corn Laws, as injurious to their
private interests. Both motions were rejected by large majorities, and
the delegates returned to the North, convinced that nothing would serve
their cause but a systematic campaign, directed against the evils from
which they suffered, together with the great majority of the people.
Hence the creation of the Anti-Corn-Law League, the constitution of
which was adopted on the 20th of March, 1839, at a meeting in
Manchester. The body thus formed was a sort of federation of all similar
bodies existing in different parts of the kingdom. It was agreed that
delegates from the different local associations should from time to time
meet for business at the principal towns
[Illustration: RICHARD COBDEN.
(_From a Photograph by Messrs. W. and D. Downey._)]
represented, and that, with a view to securing unity of action, the
central office of the League should be established in Manchester; to
which office should be entrusted, among other duties, those of engaging
and recommending competent lecturers, and of obtaining the co-operation
of the public press. The two chief leaders of the movement thus set on
foot were Mr. Cobden and Mr. Bright; but there were several others who
lent valuable assistance to the cause. In particular, Captain
(afterwards General) Perronet Thompson, a man of great literary power,
published (originally in 1827, and again in later years) a “Catechism
of the Corn Laws,” which placed the whole argument in a singularly
lucid and compact form before the nation. Numerous tracts, written with
similar objects, were printed in enormous numbers, and dispersed all
over the country. Meetings were held in important towns, and lectures
were delivered by a staff of paid assistants, of whom one of the
principal was the late W. J. Fox, afterwards Member for Oldham--a
journalist of distinction, a ready and effective disputant, and a
speaker gifted with remarkable powers of persuasive eloquence. By the
early part of 1841, the public mind had been to a considerable extent
permeated by the ideas favoured by the League; but a great deal still
remained to be done before either party in the State could be convinced
that the only proper course was to abolish the impost upon corn, and
give the British people the benefit of foreign produce in those years of
scarcity to which their variable climate so frequently condemns them.
The sincerity with which capitalists in the commercial parts of England
adopted Free Trade views was strikingly shown by the large sums of money
subscribed every year for the maintenance of the League, and for the
diffusion of its economic principles. It is true that the manufacturers
had an interest in removing all restrictions upon trade, which at that
time were numerous, and operated to the general disadvantage of
commerce. But in their resistance to injurious enactments they were
fighting the battle of the people themselves, and the reforms which
began a few years later enhanced the prosperity of England, and
materially lessened the menaces of discontent.
CHAPTER VI.
TROUBLES IN THE STATE, AND HAPPINESS AT HOME.
Growing Unpopularity of the Melbourne Administration--The Stockdale
Case--Approaching Fall of the Government--Financial
Embarrassments--Lord John Russell’s Proposal with Respect to the
Corn Laws--Defeat of the Ministry--General Election, and
Conservative Majority--Views of Prince Albert--Settlement of the
“Bedchamber” Question--Wise Counsel of the Prince and Baron
Stockmar--Visits of the Queen to Places of Interest--Troublesome
Loyalty--Launch of the _Trafalgar_--The Melbourne Government and
Free Trade--Speech from the Throne on the Meeting of the New
Parliament--Vote of Want of Confidence in the
Government--Resignation of Ministers--Final Years of Lord
Melbourne--Formation and Chief Objects of Sir Robert Peel’s
Administration--The High Church Movement in England--Disruption of
the Church of Scotland--Lord Melbourne’s Opinion of Prince
Albert--Sir Robert Peel and the Prince--Public Appearances of the
Latter in Connection with Social and Artistic Questions--Birth and
Christening of the Prince of Wales--Meeting of Parliament for the
Session of 1842--Splendid Festivities at Court--Attempts of Francis
and Bean to Shoot her Majesty.
As the year 1841 advanced, the Melbourne Ministry, which had never
occupied a strong position since the General Election of 1837, grew
weaker and weaker. In many respects, the Government was a good one. It
carried through some excellent reforms, and was for the most part
animated by a liberal and benevolent spirit. Yet its administrative
powers were faulty; it was repeatedly falling into awkward blunders; it
was afflicted with continual deficits; it was unpopular, and it
contrived to draw the Queen herself into the orbit of its own disfavour.
Education was advanced, though in a very hesitating and tentative
fashion; colonisation was promoted; some of the most elementary rights
of married women were recognised by statute; the poor climbing-boys, as
we have seen, were protected from the cruelty of being compelled to
ascend chimneys; the Postal system was reformed; many other things were
at least attempted. But people could not forget the mistakes and
shortcomings of the Ministry, nor regard with enthusiasm a body of
statesmen who often moved with reluctance, and sometimes moved not at
all; who had a certain facility in offending others, and yet depended
for their official existence on the precarious support of their
opponents. As if to make matters worse, they got into a controversy with
the law-courts, in consequence of an action brought by a publisher named
Stockdale against the Messrs. Hansard, printers to the House of Commons,
for issuing, in 1836, certain Reports on Prisons, one of which contained
serious reflections on the plaintiff. The Court of Queen’s Bench gave
judgment in favour of Stockdale; the Government and the House of Commons
championed the printers; a good deal of unseemly action and
counteraction took place; and at length, in the spring of 1840, the
matter was settled by a Bill affording summary protection to all persons
employed in the publication of Parliamentary papers. In their main
contention, Ministers were probably right; but they conducted the
dispute in a rather undignified manner, and the feeling of the public
generally was very much against them.
The successes of the British fleet in the East, during the autumn of
1840, did little to restore the credit of the Melbourne Administration.
In 1841, everything prefigured an approaching change; yet the Government
clung to office with the utmost tenacity. Parliament was opened by the
Queen in person on the 26th of January; and in a little while the Budget
of the Chancellor of the Exchequer, Mr. Baring, disclosed a deficit of
nearly two millions. It was thought to fill the gap by alterations in
the timber and sugar duties (from which Mr. Baring hoped to obtain an
increase of £1,300,000), and by whatever might accrue from Lord John
Russell’s contemplated modification of the Corn Laws. The House of
Commons, however, rejected the proposals of the Finance Minister by a
majority of 36 in a House of 598 members. Most people thought that after
this the Government must needs resign. But, Lord John Russell having
already given notice of his intention to move for a committee of the
whole House, to consider the state of legislation with regard to the
trade in corn, it was determined to try this last chance. The plan was
to propose a fixed duty of eight shillings a quarter on wheat, and at
the same time to diminish the rates on rye, barley, and oats. But the
patience of the Opposition was now worn out. On the 24th of May, Sir
Robert Peel gave notice of a motion to the effect that the Government
had lost the confidence of the House of Commons, and that their
continuance in office under such circumstances was at variance with the
spirit of the Constitution. This was brought forward on the 27th of the
same month; and the debates, after lasting several nights, came to a
conclusion on the 4th of June, when 312 voted in favour of the motion,
and 311 against. Government was thus left in a minority of one, and Lord
John Russell promised to state, at the next meeting of Parliament, what
course her Majesty’s Ministers were prepared to adopt. In the meanwhile,
he intimated the withdrawal of his motion on the subject of the Corn
Laws. On the 7th of June, he announced the intention of the Ministry to
advise the dissolution of Parliament. The General Election took place
during the summer, and the Conservatives obtained a large majority.
Lord Melbourne had long foreseen the ruin of the Ministry, and probably
he secretly rejoiced at his approaching release from a task which had
manifestly become hopeless. Before Baron Stockmar again left England, in
the early part of 1841, the Premier told that distinguished German that
his Cabinet was exposed to all sorts of dangers, and that he saw no
guarantee for its stability. He conversed much with Prince Albert, and
was most anxious that the Queen should communicate to his Royal Highness
everything connected with public affairs. Writing to his father, in
April, 1841, the Prince observes:--“I study the politics of the day with
great industry. I speak quite openly with the Ministers on all subjects,
so as to gain information, and I endeavour quietly to be of as much use
to Victoria in her position as I can.” He saw that Sir Robert Peel would
soon be again called upon to form a Ministry; he knew that an unpleasant
incident had occurred on a similar occasion in 1839; and he felt that
the recurrence of any such catastrophe should by all means be avoided.
There must be no second collision between the sovereign and a leading
statesman on a matter so unimportant from one point of view, yet so
important from another, as the position of a few Bedchamber women.
Prince Albert therefore brought the subject under the notice of Lord
Melbourne, and remarked that he was naturally in a state of some
uneasiness at the probable course of events; that his sole anxiety was
that the Queen should act constitutionally, and with more general
applause than on the previous occasion; that it was his duty, and Lord
Melbourne’s also, to prepare her Majesty for possible eventualities; and
that an agreement ought to be arrived at, as to what she should do under
the circumstances.[12] The Prime Minister assented to these views, and
it was settled that, should there be a change of Ministry, the Queen
would arrange that those of her ladies should retire of their own accord
whose removal might be requested by the in-coming Cabinet, on account of
their relationship to leaders of the Whig party. It was the view of
Prince Albert, and also of Lord Melbourne, that Sir Robert Peel should
be previously consulted. Negotiations were accordingly opened with that
statesman, through the medium of the Prince’s secretary, Mr. Anson; and
when Sir Robert accepted office soon afterwards, the Duchesses of
Bedford and Sutherland, and Lady Normanby, relinquished their posts.[13]
The time was one of great trial for the Queen; but she had now always at
her side an adviser of much discrimination, of excellent sense, and of
the highest honour. “Albert,” wrote her Majesty, about this period, to
her uncle, the King of the Belgians, “is indeed a great comfort to me.
He takes the greatest, possible interest in what goes on, feeling with
me and for me, and yet abstaining
[Illustration: HATFIELD HOUSE.]
as he ought, from biassing me either way, though we talk much on the
subject, and his judgment is, as you say, good and calm.” The Prince, in
his turn, had an invaluable guide in Baron Stockmar, who frequently
corresponded with him. In a letter written from Coburg on the 18th of
May, 1841, the Baron says:--“If things come to a change of Ministry,
then the great axiom, irrefragably one and the same for all Ministries,
is this, namely, the Crown supports frankly, honourably, and with all
its might, the Ministry of the time, whatever it be, so long as it
commands a majority, and governs with integrity for the welfare and
advancement of the country. A king who, as a Constitutional king, either
cannot or will not carry this maxim into practice, deliberately descends
from the lofty pedestal on which the Constitution has placed him to the
lower one of a mere party chief. Be you, therefore, the Constitutional
genius of the Queen. Do not content yourself with merely whispering this
maxim in her ear when circumstances serve, but strive also to carry it
out into practice, at the right time, and by the worthiest means.”
[Illustration: THE QUEEN AT THE LAUNCH OF THE “TRAFALGAR.”]
While awaiting the political crisis which every one saw could not be
long in coming, the Queen and Prince Albert made several interesting
excursions to various places in the country, such as Nuneham, Oxford,
Woburn Abbey, Panshanger, Brocket Hall (the seat of Lord Melbourne), and
Hatfield. On these occasions, the Royal party were very well received by
the country people, though the Queen, in her “Journal,” rather complains
of the crowding and pressing, and of the dust raised by the mounted
farmers who, in their well-meant but somewhat inconvenient loyalty,
furnished supplementary escorts. Englishmen, of course, are not to
expect the privileges of a more favoured race, and southern roads are
naturally more dusty than northern moorlands. But her Majesty was not
much offended, and speaks of the people as “good” and “loyal,” though,
it would seem, a little troublesome. Among the places visited was the
seat of the Duke of Devonshire at Chiswick; and on the 21st of June the
Queen and Prince Albert went to see the _Trafalgar_ launched at
Woolwich. At the request of her Majesty, the vessel was named by Lady
Bridport, a niece of Lord Nelson, and the wine used was a portion of
that taken from the great Admiral’s flag-ship, _Victory_, after the
battle of Trafalgar. Out of the five hundred people on board at the time
of the launch, no fewer than one hundred had taken part in the
ever-memorable action, and the scene altogether was of the most
impressive kind. In a letter to his father, written on the following
day, Prince Albert said that this was the most imposing sight he could
remember. There were about five hundred thousand people present, the
Thames being covered for miles with ships, steamers, barges, and boats.
The Melbourne Ministry, while struggling for existence to the very last,
had contrived to offend both parties in the State by its
half-heartedness. The lowering of the duties on cereals was to some
extent a concession to the Free Trade party; but it did not go far
enough to satisfy them, while at the same time it alarmed the
agricultural interest. On the whole, it appeared as if the Government
were gradually abandoning the Protective system, although, no farther
back than 1839, Lord Melbourne had declared in the House of Lords that
“the repeal of the Corn Laws would be the most insane proposition that
ever entered the human head.” Even Lord John Russell, who was much more
a reformer than his chief, had very recently spoken of Free Trade in
anything but respectful terms. Indeed, the Ministerial Whigs generally
were disinclined to adopt the opinions of Mr. Villiers and Mr. Cobden;
yet, in the early summer of 1841, they showed a remarkable tendency to
advance in that direction. In the debate on the Sugar Duties, Lord
Palmerston, referring to what were now considered the necessary measures
for relieving British trade from the encumbrances which had hampered it,
observed, in a spirit of political prophecy:--“I will venture to predict
that, although our opponents may resist those measures to-night, for the
sake of obtaining a majority in the division, yet, if they should come
into office, those are the measures which a just regard for the finances
and commerce of the country will compel them to propose.” All this was a
movement in the right direction; yet people would not believe in its
sincerity. They said it was only a trick to obtain votes, and to stave
off a little while longer the inevitable downfall. Probably they were
right. At any rate, their views prevailed at the General Election.
On the 15th of July, about the close of the Elections, Lord Melbourne
reported to the Queen that the Conservatives would have a majority of
seventy. In point of fact, it amounted to seventy-six, and even Lord
John Russell preserved his seat for the City of London by so bare a
success that, of the four members, he obtained the smallest number of
votes, and narrowly escaped defeat. On the meeting of the new
Parliament, which was on the 24th of August, the Royal Speech (read by
Commission) contained the following significant passage:--“Her Majesty
is desirous that you should consider the laws which regulate the trade
in corn. It will be for you to determine whether these laws do not
aggravate the natural fluctuation of supply; whether they do not
embarrass trade, derange the currency, and, by their operation, diminish
the comfort and increase the privation of the great body of the
community.” Amendments to the Address, however, were carried in both
Houses by large majorities. These amendments pointed to the continued
excess of expenditure over income, and declared that nothing could be
done while the Government did not possess the confidence of the House or
of the country. The adoption of the amendments could, of course, produce
only one result. Everybody knew that the fate of the Melbourne
Administration would be sealed as soon as Parliament met, and, now that
an adverse vote had been carried, nothing remained but to resign. In her
reply to the Address, the Queen expressed satisfaction at the spirit in
which Parliament proposed to deliberate on the matters she had
recommended to them, and said in conclusion:--“Ever anxious to listen to
the advice of my Parliament, I will take immediate measures for the
formation of a new Administration.” On the night of the day when this
message was sent to Parliament, the resignation of Ministers was
announced to both Houses. Three days later--namely, on the 2nd of
September--the Queen spent her last evening with the ladies of the
Household who, by a political necessity, were now forced to retire. The
dinner was a sad and silent one, and it is reported that tears were
shed. Her Majesty had contracted a sincere friendship for these ladies;
through all the years of her reign she had leant for support on the
Ministers to whom they were related; and it was natural, even
commendable, that deep regret should be both felt and shown. On the
other hand, it was impossible for Sir Robert Peel to carry on his
Government with such an adverse influence at head-quarters; and personal
considerations were forced to give way before others of greater
importance.
After his resignation of office in the late summer of 1841, Lord
Melbourne disappears almost entirely from the history and politics of
England. He had always been a somewhat indolent man, or at any rate a
man with no devouring passion for work, no insatiable ambition of
towering above his fellow-men. Moreover, he was now getting elderly,
and there had been much in the last few years to make him weary of
political distinction. Having ceased to be a Minister of the Crown, he
turned his position as a member of the House of Lords to but little
account. Casting the load of politics from his shoulders, for which, in
[Illustration: SIR ROBERT PEEL.]
spite of his long official experience, he seems never to have had any
warm regard, he passed the remainder of his days as a sort of recluse,
fond of literature, and disposed to fleet away the time in studies which
were elegant rather than profound. He had long been a widower; his only
child, a son, had some years before died unmarried at the early age of
twenty-nine; and the broken statesman had now few companions of a very
intimate character. Whether his latter years were as lonely as some have
represented, may be doubtful; but it is too likely that they were not
cheered by the highest or the best kind of social intercourse. He died
on the 24th of November, 1848, a little under seventy years of age; and
the title soon afterwards became extinct. Whatever his faults, it is
generally acknowledged that Lord Melbourne had many amiable qualities.
But his position in the history of England, though in some respects
interesting, can never be regarded as illustrious.
In the new Administration, Sir Robert Peel was First Lord of the
Treasury, Lord Lyndhurst Lord High Chancellor, Sir James Graham Home
Secretary, Mr. Goulburn Chancellor of the Exchequer, the Earl of
Aberdeen Foreign Secretary, Lord Stanley Secretary for the Colonies, Sir
Henry Hardinge Secretary
[Illustration: MAGDALEN COLLEGE, OXFORD, FROM THE CHERWELL.]
at War, Lord Ellenborough President of the Board of Control, and the
Duke of Wellington leader of the House of Lords, without office. These
were the principal appointments, and they constituted a Government of
considerable ability. The chief strength of the new Cabinet, however,
lay in Sir Robert Peel himself. During his former short-lived
Government, in 1834-5, he had combined the functions of First Lord of
the Treasury and Chancellor of the Exchequer. It was hoped that this
arrangement would now be repeated; but the inferior office, as we have
seen, was conferred on Mr. Goulburn. Still, it was well known that Peel
would be the directing financial genius of the Administration. His
abilities as a financier were generally admitted, and have probably
never been surpassed. If the country was to be dragged out of the abyss
of its ever-increasing embarrassments, Peel was the man most likely to
perform the feat. But the deficit was alarming, and, shortly after the
reassembling of Parliament, the Chancellor of the Exchequer said he must
ask for a vote of £2,500,000, adding that he would in time state how he
proposed to meet the existing deficiency. In the meanwhile, the distress
of the working classes was becoming every day more intense, and in the
manufacturing districts great dissatisfaction was expressed that Sir
Robert Peel not only refused to adopt Free Trade in its integrity, but
even repudiated Lord John Russell’s project for a small fixed duty upon
corn. Peel favoured what was known in those days as the Sliding Scale,
by which foreign wheat was allowed to be imported at a variable
duty,--greater when the price of home-grown wheat was low, and lower
when the price was high. The truth is that neither the Whigs nor the
Tories had made up their minds to accept the principles of Free Trade,
while both sought to postpone the threatened day by contrivances more or
less objectionable, and more or less futile. But the General Election
had returned to Parliament a man who in the course of a few years was to
carry the Free Trade banner triumphantly on to the Treasury benches
themselves. Richard Cobden now sat for the first time in Parliament, and
his “unadorned eloquence,” as Peel afterwards called it, was soon to
produce an immense effect upon the minds of those who heard him.
Among the many sources of agitation existing at that time, none was more
remarkable, or in some respects more important, than the High Church
movement, which had originated several years before, but which in 1841
was beginning to assume grave proportions. This turmoil of the religious
mind had first shown itself in the University of Oxford towards the
latter end of the reign of George IV. A number of enthusiastic young
students--men of great mental power, and of unquestionable
sincerity--began to be dissatisfied with the position, doctrine, and
ceremonial of the Church for which they were being prepared, or which
they had already entered. They considered that that Church had abnegated
some of its most valuable functions; that it was lax in its ideas,
somnolent in its teaching, forgetful of tradition, slovenly in its
ritual, and indifferent to its authoritative powers. There had in truth
been a good deal of dull and formal worldly-mindedness amongst the
clergy for the last hundred years; but it must not be forgotten that
this period of repose had had inestimable advantages in the softening of
dogma, the development of toleration, and the growth of independent
thought. To the Oxford ecclesiologists, however, these very
circumstances were amongst the heaviest indictments which they brought
against the Church as it was then constituted. They had grand visions of
Apostolical succession, and certainly suggested, if they did not
precisely state, that no one would be entitled to differ from the
Church, if the Church were only reformed according to their ideas.
Curious inquirers trace back the beginning of this movement to the
lectures of Bishop Lloyd on the Prayer Book and the Council of Trent,
which were delivered when he was Regius Professor of Divinity at Oxford,
about 1823. But, whatever impulse he may have given to subsequent
speculations, Dr. Lloyd does not appear among the leaders of the great
movement which afterwards shook the religious world of England to its
centre. Those leaders were the Rev. John Keble, author of “The Christian
Year,” and Fellow of Oriel; the Rev. J. H. Newman (now Cardinal Newman);
the Rev. Richard Hurrell Froude (who, with Newman, was also a Fellow of
Oriel); the Rev. E. B. Pusey, Regius Professor of Hebrew, and Canon of
Christchurch; and the Rev. Isaac Williams, Fellow of Trinity, and author
of “The Cathedral, and Other Poems.” Cambridge contributed the services
of the Rev. Hugh Rose; but, on the whole, the sister University was
little affected by the new ideas.
The founders of the modern High Church were not long in using the press
as the most effectual method of propagating their opinions. They issued
a series of papers called “Tracts for the Times,” of which ninety
numbers were published between the years 1833 and 1841; and articles to
the same effect were also published in the _British Critic_. These
manifestoes produced an extraordinary effect on a large portion of the
clergy, and a certain number of the laity; but at the same time they
aroused the bitterest opposition amongst numerous classes of churchmen
and churchgoers. It was alleged that some of the most distinctive
doctrines of the Romish Church were ostentatiously paraded by the
reformers as irrefragable and indispensable doctrines of the English
Church; though, in some instances at least, these doctrines might be
fairly inferred from the Articles and the Prayer Book. What perhaps gave
more offence than anything else was the scorn and hatred with which the
Tractarians, as they were soon called, repudiated the word “Protestant,”
as if it necessarily involved the most detestable of heresies. They
called themselves “Anglicans,” and would admit no other description. The
most bigoted of Romish divines could hardly have regarded Luther with
greater dislike than was manifested by the more extreme members of the
school. The days of the Reformation were stigmatised by High Church
enthusiasts as days of degradation and wickedness, and every form of
Dissent was an invention of the devil. All these vagaries induced many
persons, who argued rather through the medium of their alarm and anger
than by means of their reason, to believe that the Tractarians were
consciously and designedly preparing the way for a return to Roman
Catholicism. With some, indeed--notably with Mr. J. H. Newman--this was
the actual result of their speculations. But, as a body, the High
Churchmen had no such intention. They had not the slightest wish to
subject their Church to the orders of an Italian priest holding his
court at Rome. What they really desired was to subject the whole of
England--the State as well as the individual--to their conceptions of
ecclesiastical predominance.
Most of the younger clergymen fell in with the Tractarian movement, as
young men are generally disposed to fall in with anything new. A spirit
of revivalism spread over the land. The writings of the Fathers, the
ancient liturgies of the early Christian Church, the history and
traditions of the Church in all ages, the lives of saints, the mediæval
books of devotion and morals--all
[Illustration: JOHN KEBLE.]
these were diligently disinterred from dusty shelves where they had long
slumbered, and studied in the belief that they would shed a new and
divine light on modern troubles and perplexities. Gothic architecture
and art, of a purer type than had been known for nearly five hundred
years, were cultivated as a means of influencing the public mind in
favour of the strictest ecclesiasticism. Symbolical forms were
interpreted in a deeply mystical sense, and gradually the conceptions of
the reformers began to find their way, not merely into the churches, but
into general literature, especially into poetry of a tender and
emotional order. Then arose the battle of surplices, intonings, candles,
and altars, which at first shocked, and afterwards exasperated, the
average Englishman. It must be admitted, however, that the arguments of
the Tractarians had sometimes an apparent cogency, which produced a
great effect on such as were already half-disposed to be convinced. They
urged with no little plausibility that the subjection of Church doctrine
to the decision of a Lord Chancellor who might be a free-thinker, or a
man of questionable life, was an absurdity and a scandal. But this was
simply an argument against the existence of a State Church, and in that
sense it was not put forth. If the Church is united with the State, it
must be either as master or servant. To adopt the homely phrase of
Dogberry, “An
[Illustration: JOHN HENRY NEWMAN.
(_From a Photograph by H. J. Whitlock, Birmingham._)]
two men ride of a horse, one must ride behind;” and it is in the highest
degree improbable that Englishmen will ever again consent to “ride
behind” any ecclesiastical corporation in the world. Still, we may grant
this truth without denying the earnestness, devotion, and moral purity
of the Tractarians--qualities which have borne good fruit, and which
will be remembered to their credit when Time has obliterated their
follies.
[Illustration: ST. MARY’S, FROM THE HIGH STREET, OXFORD.]
In the early part of 1841, Mr. Newman published the celebrated “Tract
No. 90,” the object of which was to show that subscription to the
Thirty-nine Articles need not deter a man from holding various doctrines
which are commonly regarded as Romish. This was going a little too far
for the patience of the authorities, and, on the 15th of March, the
Vice-Chancellor and heads of houses at Oxford censured the offending
Tract, in a resolution which set forth--“That modes of interpretation
such as are suggested in the said Tract, evading rather than explaining
the sense of the Thirty-nine Articles, and reconciling subscription to
them with the adoption of errors which they were designed to counteract,
defeat the object, and are inconsistent with the due observance, of the
statutes of the University.” Next day, Mr. Newman addressed a letter to
the Vice-Chancellor, acknowledging himself as the author of the Tract.
Some time after, he resigned the Vicarage of St. Mary’s, Oxford, and in
1845 he seceded to the Church of Rome. There cannot be a doubt that in
his earlier years he had no intention of quitting the Church of England.
Throughout the whole of his career, he has been thoroughly honest,
conscientious, and self-devoted; but he has a mind of the acutest
logical perceptions, and ultimately, though with great distress to
himself, he came to the conclusion that the legitimate development of
his opinions conducted him to Rome, and nowhere else. This conclusion
being reached, he was not the man to tamper with his innermost
convictions. His retirement from the Tractarian field concentrated
additional power in the hands of the Rev. Mr. Pusey, who had long been
the chief leader of the movement. Indeed, the very word “Puseyism”
attests the depth and breadth of his influence.
It is no secret that neither the Queen nor Prince Albert liked the
extreme views of the Tractarians, but would have preferred a broader and
more liberal interpretation of Church doctrines. But the movement was of
course entirely independent of Royal influences, and the time was one of
awakened enthusiasm in all matters appertaining to religion. In
Scotland, as in England, men’s minds were being agitated by conflicting
views as to the proper character of a Church; and the dispute at the
North terminated in a disruption of an important nature. A party had
arisen in the Kirk of Scotland which desired, like the Tractarians in
the Church of England, to emancipate the religious body from the control
of the State in all matters of doctrine and discipline; but this was no
easy task. An Act of Parliament had been passed in 1712, which subjected
the power of the Presbytery to the control of the law-courts. Until
then, the appointment of pastors had been with the Church-courts of
Scotland; but now the minister was in many instances nominated by a lay
patron, and the Presbytery thereupon admitted him as a matter of course,
unless there was some flagrant objection which could not be evaded or
overcome. The popular element in the Scottish Kirk was thus subordinated
to aristocratic influence, and in time many sincere members of that body
were so much disgusted as to secede from the Established Church, and
form separate communions of their own. Matters had reached such a pass
by 1834, when the “Evangelical,” as opposed to the “Moderate,” party had
obtained the upper hand, that the General Assembly of the Kirk affirmed
the right of each congregation to exercise a veto on any presentee, in
accordance with a fundamental law of the Church, “that no pastor should
be intruded on any congregation contrary to the will of the people.”
This was the celebrated Veto Law, which soon became the subject of much
controversy. The lay patrons, finding themselves deprived of what they
considered their rights, resisted the ruling of the General Assembly,
and appealed to the law-courts. Sometimes the decision was in favour of
the one party, sometimes of the other; and at length the Strathbogie
case brought the law-courts and the General Assembly into open conflict.
The Presbytery of Strathbogie supported a certain minister who, in 1837,
had been nominated for the parish of Marnoch. The General Assembly
issued its edict that the minister was to be rejected. The majority of
the local Presbytery still continuing defiant, seven of their number
were, by the General Assembly, finally expelled from their places in the
ministry on the 7th of May, 1841; and, from that time forward, Dr.
Chalmers, who had moved their expulsion, became the great leader of the
reforming party. The controversy went on with increasing bitterness; the
decisions of the Court of Session, upheld by the House of Lords,
completely over-ruled the decisions of the General Assembly of the Kirk;
and, on the 18th of May, 1843, nearly five hundred ministers of the
Church of Scotland, under the leadership of their distinguished and
eloquent champion, seceded from the Establishment, and began what is
called the Free Church of Scotland. These ministers had no quarrel with
the older body on matters of doctrine; but they would not submit to the
dictation of lay patrons, or the control of the law-courts. Such, in
brief, is the history of this memorable revolt.
In the midst of so many perplexities, it was fortunate for the new
Government, and also for the Queen herself, that they had an
intermediary so highly qualified to fill the part as Prince Albert. In
resigning the seals of office, Lord Melbourne felt that he left her
Majesty in safe hands. He confessed that it was very painful to him to
bid farewell to his Royal mistress. For four years, he remarked, he had
seen her every day; but he added that it was now different from what it
would have been in 1839. The Prince, he observed, understood everything,
and had a clever, able head. Again, on the following day, when taking
his final leave of her Majesty, he said:--“You will find a great support
in the Prince; he is so able. You said, when you were going to be
married, that he was perfection, which I thought a little exaggerated
then, but really I think now that it is in some degree realised.” In
commenting on these opinions in her “Journal,” the Queen
writes:--“Nothing could exceed the Prince’s kindness to the Queen at
this (for her) trying time of separation from her old friend;” and in a
letter to King Leopold she quotes the following written opinion of Lord
Melbourne on his Royal Highness:--“Lord Melbourne cannot satisfy himself
without again stating to your Majesty in writing what he had the honour
of saying to your Majesty respecting his Royal Highness the Prince. Lord
Melbourne has formed the highest opinion of his Royal Highness’s
judgment, temper, and discretion; and he cannot but feel a great
consideration and security that he leaves your Majesty in a situation in
which your Majesty has the inestimable advantage of such advice and
assistance. Lord Melbourne feels certain that your Majesty cannot do
better than have recourse to it whenever it is needed, and rely upon it
with confidence.”
It was natural, and inevitable that Lord Melbourne should feel a deep
regret in parting from her Majesty after so long an association. It was
equally natural that Sir Robert Peel should approach the Court with
something of nervous apprehension. He had opposed the Queen’s wishes
with respect to the Ladies of the Bedchamber; shortly afterwards, he had
been mainly instrumental in procuring the curtailment of the Prince’s
income. Nevertheless, he was received by the Prince with an unaffected
cordiality which immediately put him at his ease. Like Lord Melbourne,
he soon formed a very high opinion of his Royal Highness’s abilities,
and the new Minister was as willing as the old to keep the Prince well
acquainted with the development of the national affairs. He was also
desirous to take advantage of the Prince’s known proficiency in art, by
placing him at the head of a Royal Commission to inquire whether the
rebuilding of the Houses of Parliament did not offer a fitting occasion
to promote
[Illustration: KING LEOPOLD.]
and encourage the Fine Arts in the United Kingdom. The position was
accepted by his Royal Highness; and when Sir Robert Peel announced the
fact to the House of Commons, he was gratified to witness (as he
afterwards reported) the cordial satisfaction with which the intimation
was received in every quarter. Prince Albert had very properly made it a
condition of his accepting the chairmanship of this body that in the
selection of its members there should be an entire exclusion of all
party distinctions. The principle was carefully observed, and the
noblemen and gentlemen thus brought together were appointed with the
single consideration of their fitness. This was the first of those
numerous services to intellectual culture which Prince Albert rendered
to his adopted country. He had now acquired an almost perfect command of
English, though, when he came over to be married, in the early part of
1840, he knew but little of the language. The first of his speeches in
public, however, had been delivered as early as the 1st of June, 1840,
at a meeting to promote the Abolition of the Slave Trade. The speech was
brief, carefully written beforehand, and committed
[Illustration: ST. GEORGE’S CHAPEL, WINDSOR.]
to memory; but the Prince was naturally very nervous in delivering it.
On the 25th of June, 1841, he laid the foundation-stone of the London
Porters’ Association; so that he was now coming out into the light of
publicity, to an extent from which he at first shrank, feeling himself a
stranger in a strange land, and not being very confident as to the
cordiality of the general sentiment. His acceptance, in October, of the
Chairmanship of the Fine Arts Commission was another step forward in the
direction to which he had recently been turning his thoughts. For
several years, Prince Albert did admirable service in educating the
English mind to a higher sense of artistic beauty; and, in the fulness
of time, the suggestion of Sir Robert Peel bore more ample fruits than
he himself could have anticipated.
On the 9th of November, 1841, the Prince of Wales was born at Buckingham
Palace. As on the occasion of her previous confinement, the Queen
recovered rapidly, and was able to celebrate the first anniversary of
the Princess Royal’s birth on the 21st of the same month. On the 6th of
December, the Court removed to Windsor Castle. Addressing the King of
the Belgians on the 14th of December, her Majesty wrote:--“We must all
have trials and vexations; but if one’s home is happy, then the rest is
comparatively nothing. I assure you, dear uncle, that no one feels this
more than I do. I had this autumn one of the severest trials I could
have in parting with my Government, and particularly from our kind and
valued friend, and I feel even now this last very much; but my happiness
at home, the love of my husband, his kindness, his advice, his support,
and his company, make up for all, and make me forget it.” Christmas was
again spent at Windsor, and the New Year was danced in after a very
jovial fashion. While the dance was yet proceeding, the clock struck
twelve, and at the last stroke a flourish of trumpets was blown,
according to the German custom. The Queen records in her “Journal” that
this peal of instruments had a very grand and solemn effect, and that it
caused a sudden agitation in Prince Albert, who turned pale, while the
tears started to his eyes. He was thinking of his native country and his
early days.
Shortly after the birth of the young Prince--namely, on the 4th of
December, 1841--the Queen created him, by Letters Patent, Prince of
Wales and Earl of Chester. The Letters Patent went on to say:--“And him,
our said and most dear son, the Prince of the United Kingdom of Great
Britain and Ireland, as has been accustomed, we do ennoble and invest
with the said Principality and Earldom, by girding him with a sword, by
putting a coronet on his head and a gold ring on his finger, and also by
delivering a gold rod into his hand, that he may preside there, and
direct and defend those parts.” By the fact of his birth as
heir-apparent, the Prince inherited, without the necessity of patent or
creation, the dignities and titles of Duke of Saxony, by right of his
father, and, by right of his mother, those of Duke of Cornwall, Duke of
Rothesay, Earl of Carrick, Baron of Renfrew, Lord of the Isles, and
Great Steward of Scotland.
The christening of the Prince of Wales took place on the 25th of
January, 1842, in St. George’s Chapel, Windsor. In the midst of great
pomp and splendour, the ceremony was performed by the Archbishop of
Canterbury with water specially brought from the river Jordan. The
sponsors were the late King of Prussia (Frederick William IV.); the
Duchess of Saxe-Coburg, represented by the Duchess of Kent; the Duke of
Cambridge; the Duchess of Saxe-Gotha, represented by the Duchess of
Cambridge; the Princess Sophia, represented by the Princess Augusta of
Cambridge; and Prince Ferdinand of Saxe-Coburg. King Frederick William
was chosen as being the ruler of the chief Protestant kingdom on the
Continent; but the leading politicians of Germany, France, and Russia,
saw in the selection a degree of political significance which was
doubtless entirely absent. Some among the Prussians themselves feared
that the King would take advantage of his presence in England to effect
that Anglicanising of the Prussian Church which was dear to his heart.
When his Majesty arrived in England, however, he proved to be nothing
more than a stout, middle-aged gentleman, who could tell a good story
very well, and who even consented to dance a quadrille with the Queen,
though his person was little suited to such exercises, and his time of
life was hardly favourable to their graceful performance. The names
given to the infant Prince at his christening were Albert Edward. At the
conclusion of the ceremony, a silver-embossed vessel, containing a whole
hogshead of mulled claret, was brought in, and served out liberally to
the company, that the health of the Prince might be drunk with due
honour.
Before his departure, the King of Prussia attended the meeting of
Parliament on the 3rd of February, 1842. An admirable description of
this ceremony is given in a letter by the Baroness Bunsen, an English
lady married to the celebrated Prussian scholar, at that time Ambassador
to the Court of St. James’s. This lady speaks of the Queen as being
“worthy and fit to be the converging point of so many rays of grandeur;”
and she adds that “the composure with which she filled the throne, while
awaiting the Commons, was a test of character--no fidget, and no
apathy.... Placed in a narrow space behind her Majesty’s mace-bearers,
and peeping over their shoulders, I was enabled to hide and subdue the
emotion I felt, in consciousness of the mighty pages in the world’s
history condensed in the words so impressively uttered in the silver
tones of that feminine voice--Peace and War, the fate of millions,
relations of countries, exertions of power felt to the extremities of
the globe, alterations of Corn Laws, the birth of a future sovereign,
mentioned in solemn thankfulness to Him in whose hands are nations and
rulers!”
These were the serious sides of royalty; but the young Queen, and her
equally young husband, were not indifferent to the lighter graces of
their position. A splendid new ball-room was added to Buckingham Palace,
and a number of brilliant entertainments took place in that magnificent
saloon. A _bal costumé_, on the 12th of May, 1842, is believed to have
been the first ever given in England by a member of the House of
Brunswick. On this occasion, her Majesty appeared as Queen Philippa,
consort of Edward III., and Prince Albert as Edward III. himself. The
Duchess of Cambridge was received in State as Anne of Brittany,
accompanied by her Court; and, after dancing had been enjoyed for some
hours, supper was served with surroundings of remarkable splendour. The
salvers, vases, tankards, and jewelled cups, are described by writers of
the period as of unusual cost and richness. A tent belonging to Tippoo
Sahib was erected within the Corinthian portico adjoining the green
drawing-room, and in the course of the evening this Oriental pavilion
was used as a place for refreshment. Later in the season, a second ball
of a similar character was given by her Majesty, in which the dresses
were confined to the reigns of George II. and III. A grand banquet at
Windsor Castle on the Ascot Cup day appears also to have been
conspicuous for its lavish splendour. Luncheon had been previously
served in Tippoo Sahib’s tent; but the dinner itself was in St.
George’s Hall, the ceiling of which was emblazoned with the arms of the
Knights of the Garter, from the institution of that Order down to modern
times, and also with portraits of the British Kings from James I. to
George IV. Immediately opposite the Queen was a pyramid of plate,
crowned by the tiger’s head captured at Seringapatam, and comprising the
“Iluma” of precious stones which Lord Wellesley, when Governor-General
of India, presented to his sovereign. The display of gold
[Illustration: AMBASSADORS’ COURT, ST. JAMES’S PALACE.]
plate, the brilliant light shed from numerous candelabra, the music
furnished by two bands of the Guards stationed in a balcony, and the
picturesque appearance of the Yeomen of the Guard, who stood on duty at
the entrance, contributed to an effect which was truly regal in its pomp
and grandeur. In the drawing-room, after dinner, the celebrated French
actress, Madame Rachel, gave recitations from her principal
performances; and the entertainment came to a close a little before
midnight. In the then excited state of the public mind, some persons
condemned these amusements, which they contrasted with the hunger and
suffering to be found in other quarters; apparently not perceiving that
the circulation of money must be an advantage to the community in
general. But
[Illustration: COSTUME BALL IN BUCKINGHAM PALACE.]
when the Queen and her ladies appeared in dresses of British
manufacture, the agitation ceased, and it was admitted that trade and
labour derived benefit from the outlay.
It was about the period of these gorgeous ceremonials that some other
attempts were made (or apparently made) on the life of the Queen. The
first of these occurred on Sunday, the 29th of May, when a young man,
named John Francis, attacked the Royal party while returning from the
Chapel Royal, St. James’s Palace. As they were driving along the Mall,
near Stafford House, a man stepped out from the crowd, and presented a
pistol at Prince Albert. The Prince heard the trigger snap, but the
weapon missed fire. He turned to the Queen, and asked, “Did you hear
that?” adding, “I am sure I saw some one take aim at us.” No other
person, however, seems to have been aware of the attempt, and it was
considered advisable that the Queen and Prince Albert should drive out
again on the following day. They went towards Hampstead, and, on their
return, when approaching the Palace, were again shot at. A policeman was
standing close by, and Francis was immediately seized. Strange to say,
the second attempt was very nearly on the same spot as that of Oxford in
1840. The culprit was the son of a machinist at Drury Lane Theatre, and
had for some months been out of employment. “A little, swarthy,
ill-looking rascal,” is the account which Prince Albert gives of him;
but he conducted himself before the authorities with a good deal of
spirit, or rather, perhaps, with a good deal of impudence. Having been
found guilty of high treason, he was condemned to death; but the
sentence was afterwards commuted to transportation for life.
The very day after the commutation became known--namely, July 3rd--a
further attempt was made by a hunchback named Bean. As in the other
cases, a morbid vanity appears to have been the feeling which prompted
the act. Bean escaped at the moment, but was soon afterwards arrested,
and, being tried for misdemeanour--not, like the others, for high
treason--was sentenced to eighteen months’ imprisonment. The folly of
charging such offenders with high treason, when it was quite certain
that they would not be visited with the penalty of that offence, but
with a much lighter punishment, uncertain, capricious, and variable in
its nature and operation, had suggested a change of the law, and the
Bill, which was in progress through Parliament at the time of Bean’s
attempt, received the Royal sanction a few days later. Sir Robert Peel,
while consulting with Prince Albert shortly after the attempt, was so
overcome by the sudden entry of her Majesty that he burst into tears,
although usually a very self-contained man. The frequent repetition of
such outrages was indeed a serious matter, and after the Francis affair
the Queen admitted that for some time she had had a presentiment of
danger hovering over her. On the occasion of Bean’s attempt, her Majesty
was not aware that anything had occurred until after her return to the
Palace. Being informed of the fact, she calmly observed that she had
expected a repetition of these attacks as long as the law remained
unaltered by which they could be dealt with only as acts of high
treason. The change in the law was doubtless advisable, since it is well
known that it is not so much the severity as the certainty of punishment
which deters the evilly-disposed; yet such acts will occur from time to
time as long as vanity and envy remain passions of the human heart.
CHAPTER VII.
CONVULSIONS IN THE EAST.
Approaches to a Great Tragedy--State of Afghanistan--Position of
Dost Mahomed in 1836--Mission of Captain Burnes to Cabul in
1837--Afghanistan, England, and Russia--Determination of the
Governor-General of India to Restore Shah Soojah to the Afghan
Throne--Garbling of Burnes’s Despatches--Action of the Anglo-Indian
Government against the Russians before Herat--British Invasion of
Afghanistan in 1839--Difficulties, Dangers, and Successes of the
Campaign--Cold Reception of Shah Soojah at Cabul--Operations in the
Khyber Pass--Outbreak of Insurrections against the Restored
Power--Actions with the British--Surrender of Dost
Mahomed--Increased Turmoil among the Afghans--Massacre of November
2nd, 1841--Imbecility of General Elphinstone--Murder of Sir William
Macnaghten--Agreement between the British Authorities and Akbar
Khan--Retreat of the Army of Occupation--Horrors of the March, and
Complete Destruction of the Army--Defence of Jelalabad by Sir
Robert Sale--Operations of Generals Nott, Pollock, and
Sale--Capture of Cabul--Release of the Prisoners, and Close of the
War--Lord Ellenborough and the Gates of Somnauth--Murder of
Stoddart and Conolly in Bokhara--Disturbed State of England in
1842--The Queen’s First Visit to Scotland--Receipt of Good News
from the East--Position of Prince Albert towards the
State--Discretion of his Private Life--Extent of his
Labours--Colonisation in New Zealand and New South Wales.
For some years there had been proceeding in the East a series of events
which, in the early part of 1842, eventuated in one of the most tragical
catastrophes of modern history. To the west of Northern India lies the
independent kingdom of Afghanistan, or Cabul, as it is sometimes called
after the capital city. The country is mountainous, barren, and austere;
the people--to whom some attribute a Jewish origin, but who are
certainly a very mixed race--are courageous, warlike, revengeful,
predatory in their habits, yet not wanting in some manly virtues. They
are Mohammedans of the Sunnite communion, and consequently regard the
Turkish Sultan as the head of the Moslem world; yet their tolerance is
so great that they allow several Persian Shiites to occupy high official
posts, without any restriction on their distinctive rites. Afghanistan
has from time to time been a conquering State. In the fifteenth century,
it planted a dynasty on the throne of Delhi, which lasted until
overthrown by the Mogul Baber in 1526. In the early years of the
eighteenth century, it gave two monarchs to Persia, of which it had in
ancient times formed a part; but the intruders were speedily expelled.
The military genius of the Afghans, however, was not to be long kept
down; and after the founding of the Durani dynasty by Ahmed Khan, in
1747, an immense Afghan Empire was rapidly created, which spread from
Herat into Hindostan, and from the banks of the Oxus to the Arabian
Sea. This dominion broke up early in the present century, and in 1836
the Ameer Dost Mahomed was ruling at Cabul over a territory not very
extensive or important.
This somewhat petty sovereign had at his disposal a revenue of 1,400,000
dollars, and an army of 18,000 men. But his dominions were in a
disturbed state, and, at the same time, he was at war with Lahore in the
east, while, in the west, the Persians had attacked Herat, at that date
ruled by one of the Durani princes. Dost Mahomed was therefore very
desirous of securing the friendship of the British in India. Lord
Auckland, then Governor-General at Calcutta, was disposed to enter into
negotiations with the Ameer, conceiving that English power in the East
was menaced by the intrigues of Russia, Persia, and Afghanistan. He
therefore, in September, 1837, despatched Captain Alexander Burnes to
Cabul, with instructions to discuss certain matters. Unfortunately,
Captain Burnes was not authorised to promise Dost Mahomed the assistance
which he required, to assume a position of independence towards Persia
and Russia. Both these Powers were acting for the advancement of their
own interests; and, although the Ameer had listened to their
suggestions, he told the British envoy that he would much rather
co-operate with England, if he could obtain the terms he needed. Burnes
urged upon the Governor-General of India the policy of guaranteeing the
integrity of the Ameer’s realm, or at least of promising him a subsidy
in case of attack. But Lord Auckland would do neither, while at the same
moment ordering the distracted chieftain to abandon all negotiations
with the rival Powers. The natural consequence was that Dost Mahomed
again leant towards the liberal, though interested, offers of Russia;
but even then he would gladly have considered the proposals of England,
had any been made. The Governor-General, however, preferred to enter
into a treaty with Runjeet Singh and Shah Soojah--the former a leader of
the Sikhs, the latter a descendant of Ahmed Khan, who had once before
ruled in Afghanistan, who had been expelled from the throne, and who was
generally detested by the people. Runjeet Singh was to be maintained at
Peshawur (to which the Afghans considered they had a claim), and Shah
Soojah to be restored to the throne of Cabul with the assistance of an
English army. A more unjustifiable, a more fatal, choice was never made.
In his despatches to Lord Auckland, Captain Burnes repeatedly expressed
a strong opinion against the abandonment of Dost Mahomed; but these
despatches, when published by the British Government long after the
writer’s premature and miserable death, were so shamefully garbled that
they seemed, by implication, to show that Burnes had actually supported
the very policy he strenuously condemned. The fact subsequently came
out, and nothing like a defence--not even a decent palliation--could be
offered. The English people were kept studiously in the dark as to these
manipulations; indeed, they knew very little as to what was passing on
the North-western frontiers of India and beyond. Yet those events were
of the gravest character, and carried with them a train of consequences
which involved the whole of the United Kingdom in a black cloud of
mourning and dismay. For a while, however, matters seemed to go very
well. The Persian attack on Herat--which was in truth a Russian attack
in disguise--had been held in check by the courage of the garrison, led,
instructed, and inspirited by the skill and heroism of a young officer,
named Eldred Pottinger, who was staying there at the time. Nevertheless,
the place
[Illustration: ELDRED POTTINGER AT HERAT. (_See p. 113._)]
would not have been saved but for the action of the Anglo-Indian
Government, which in 1838 sent a naval squadron to the Persian Gulf, and
gave the Shah to understand that, if he carried his operations any
farther, his persistence would be regarded as a proof of hostility to
England. This had the desired effect. The blockade of Herat was
abandoned, and the position was saved. The discomfiture of the Persians
was a triumph effected without bloodshed, and really valuable in its
results. Herat has always been regarded as the key of India, and justly
so, when we consider that all the great roads from the west converge
within its territory, and that it is capable of producing whatever an
army may require.
Captain Burnes left Cabul on the 26th of April, 1838, and met Lord
Auckland at Simla. On the 1st of October in the same year, a manifesto
was issued by the Governor-General, which was virtually a declaration of
war against Dost Mahomed. Mr. (afterwards Sir William) Macnaghten,
Secretary to the Government of India, was appointed Minister at the
court of Shah Soojah, before any such court existed; and he was to be
helped in his operations by Sir Alexander Burnes, for the discredited
envoy had now been made a knight. Unanticipated alterations of plan,
consequent on the bad faith of Runjeet Singh, who at the last moment
refused to allow a passage through his dominions, as he had promised,
delayed the starting of the expedition, which did not get on its way
until the late winter of 1839. The army, which was in three divisions,
consisted of British troops, Afghans, and Sikhs; and it was encumbered
with a large number of camp-followers and baggage-animals. The routes
pursued were beset by all those difficulties which belong to a
mountainous and rocky land. Numbers of men and camels were lost; the
soldiers were disheartened by fatigue, and by the gloom of their
surroundings; food began to fail; the supplies which were expected at
Quetta, beyond the further end of the Bolan Pass, were not forthcoming;
and the two principal divisions of the invading force, which had now
effected their junction, pushed forward, in a half-famished state, and
by a long and difficult defile, to Candahar, which was reached on the
25th of April. The city surrendered without a blow; but the army was now
greatly reduced in numbers, and could not reckon more than 10,400
fighting men. Shah Soojah was proclaimed at Candahar, and Sir John
Keane, who had command of the whole invading force, while attached more
particularly to the Bombay column, then set out for Ghizni, two hundred
and thirty miles distant from Candahar, which was itself more than a
thousand miles from the points of departure.
Ghizni offered a determined resistance, but was taken by storm on the
23rd of July, when the son of Dost Mahomed, Gholam Hyder Khan, who held
the command, was captured. Sir John Keane next pushed on to Cabul, where
the fall of Ghizni had produced a feeling of such extreme consternation
that the Ameer found himself unable to act against the enemy, and
therefore fled with a few attendants to the mountain solitudes of the
Hindoo Koosh, on the north-eastern boundary of Afghanistan. The English
army, accompanied by Shah Soojah, entered Cabul on the 7th of August;
but the demeanour of the people was cold, and the British were detested
as strangers, as conquerors, and as Christians. On September 3rd, the
invaders were joined by the third division, consisting for the most part
of Afghans and Sikhs, under the orders of Colonel Wade, who had taken
the fort of Ali Musjid (situated in a narrow part of the Khyber Pass)
and the city of Jelalabad. It now seemed as if the Afghans were entirely
subdued, and, in its premature satisfaction, the British Government
showered honours on the persons principally concerned. Lord Auckland was
made an Earl; Sir John Keane a Baron, with a pension of £2,000; and Mr.
Macnaghten a Baronet. Other officials received inferior distinctions,
and Shah Soojah created an Order of the Durani Empire, the insignia of
which were bestowed on many English officers. Nevertheless, the people
were thoroughly discontented, and surveyed with a sullen eye the
military reviews and splendid ceremonials which it was hoped would
reconcile them to the restored rule of Shah Soojah. They were _not_
reconciled, for the new sovereign was regarded as the mere creature of
the British authorities, whose pensioner he had been for many years, and
by whom he was now forcibly imposed on a reluctant people, who had never
invited his return.
The new settlement was believed to be so entirely safe that many of our
troops were sent back long before the close of 1839, and the occupying
force then consisted of 8,000 men, Europeans and Sepoys. As if inspired
by some evil fate, the English officers wrote to India for their wives
and children. In the spring of 1840, the British and Sepoy regiments
were removed from the Bala Hissar (a fortified palace of great
strength), and stationed in cantonments on the neighbouring plain, where
they had scarcely any protection against the sudden attack of an enemy.
These attacks speedily came. The country began to seethe with
insurrection. British outposts were assailed, and, as the summer
advanced, the fighting became serious. Dost Mahomed was again in arms,
moving about rapidly from place to place, and sometimes gaining the
advantage. In one of these encounters, he discomfited a British force
under Sir Robert Sale, by whom he was attacked, on the 2nd of November,
in the Purwandurrah valley. The disaster was chiefly owing to the
misconduct of some Hindoo cavalry, who precipitately retreated, and
sought shelter among the English guns. Everything was thrown into
confusion, and Sale’s force was only just able to cut its way back to
Cabul. It might reasonably have been supposed that, after this brilliant
success, Dost Mahomed (whose heroism and capacity have been warmly
acknowledged by English writers) would have advanced with all his
warriors to the capital. But he felt his inability to cope with such a
power as England, and on the following day he rode up to the quarters of
Sir William Macnaghten, introduced himself as the deposed Ameer, and
delivered up his sword. When the British Minister had recovered from his
surprise, he returned the sword, treated his prisoner with due honour,
and, on the 12th of November, sent him to India under a strong escort.
Again, apparently, had Fortune smiled upon the English cause.
But the insurrection against the authority of Shah Soojah still
continued with unabated violence. In spite of this obvious danger,
however, the British army of occupation was still further reduced in
1841, and the pension to native chiefs for abstaining from plunder was
considerably lessened. The peril increased with every day; yet only a
few of the military or civil officers could perceive its existence. Sir
William Macnaghten and Sir Alexander Burnes appear to have been
perfectly contented with the existing state of things; though Sir Robert
Sale, having been sent to quell an insurrection of the Ghiljies, found
his communications with Cabul seriously threatened, and though Major
Pottinger (Eldred Pottinger, the defender of Herat) warned Sir William
of the danger by which he was menaced. Sir John Keane having returned
to England, the chief command of the British forces devolved on Sir
Willoughby Cotton, who had previously led the Bengal column. Cotton was
a man of approved ability, but
[Illustration: FORT ALI MUSJID IN THE KHYBER PASS.]
he was soon afterwards superseded by General Elphinstone--an old and
infirm officer, whose nerves were quite unfitted to sustain the shock by
which they were soon to be entirely shattered. Sir William Macnaghten
having been appointed to the Governorship of Bombay, his position as
British Minister at Cabul was conferred on Sir Alexander Burnes; but,
owing to the disturbed state of the country, the former was unable to
leave the Afghan capital, and consequently fell in the massacre which
shortly afterwards broke out. Cabul burst into a flame of excitement on
the morning of November 2nd--the very day after that on which Burnes had
assumed his new functions, and when he congratulated Macnaghten on
leaving Afghanistan in a state of “profound tranquillity.” The mob
surrounded the residence of Burnes, threatened him and his brother, and
shot his military secretary, Lieutenant Broadfoot. One of the
insurgents, who
[Illustration: SIR ROBERT AND LADY SALE.]
had sworn by the Koran that he would escort the brothers in safety to
the fort, treacherously betrayed them to the rioters, by whom they were
slain with knives. All the other inhabitants of the house, including
women and children, were also murdered, and the edifice itself was burnt
to ashes. General Elphinstone, who was in the cantonments with his
troops, seems to have been utterly prostrated by the news, nor were any
of his officers better prepared for the emergency. No steps were taken
against the insurgents, and Elphinstone contented himself with saying
that they must wait until the morning, and then see what could be done.
All he did when the morning came was to send urgent messages to Sir
Robert Sale, who was then on his way to Jelalabad, to proceed as rapidly
as possible to Cabul. Sir Robert, however, thought it a matter of such
paramount importance to keep open the communications with India, that
he pursued his way to Jelalabad, and fortunately so, as was proved by
after events. General Nott despatched three regiments to Candahar, in
the hope of relieving the Cabul garrison; but the difficulties of the
way and the severity of the weather were so great that they turned back,
after accomplishing a portion of the distance. The cantonments at Cabul
were now commanded by two guns, which the Afghans had planted on a
neighbouring hill; and the British troops failed in an attempt to break
out into the open country. The supplies of food ran short, and
ultimately failed altogether; so that an agreement of some kind became
an absolute necessity. The last act of Sir William Macnaghten was to
open negotiations with the Afghan chiefs; but on the 23rd of December--a
few days later--he was treacherously murdered by Akbar Khan, the eldest
son of Dost Mahomed, who was now the leader of the insurrection. The two
had entered into some rather obscure negotiations for making Akbar the
Vizier and virtual master of Shah Soojah, and putting down the other
chiefs. An interview was arranged for discussing this project; but a
misunderstanding arose, and Macnaghten was shot by Akbar Khan, who
afterwards, however, expressed great remorse for the deed. Shah Soojah
appears to have acted with energy and good faith; but at the very
commencement of the revolt his troops were overpowered by superior
numbers, and he could now do nothing. The action of the malcontents was
characterised by the utmost treachery. They had undertaken to furnish
supplies, if the forts which guarded the cantonments were placed in
their hands. The terms were accepted, but no food was forthcoming, while
the possession of the forts by the enemy placed the cantonments wholly
at his mercy. Matters therefore proceeded from bad to worse, and at
length it was agreed that all the guns, excepting six, together with all
the treasure, should be relinquished; that four officers should be put
into the hands of the chiefs as hostages; and that 40,000 rupees, in
bills drawn upon India, to be negotiated on the spot by some Hindoo
bankers, should be paid to the Afghans. In exchange for these
concessions, Akbar Khan promised to conduct the English regiments to
Jelalabad; but he had not the power, even if he had the will, to make
good his words. Our share of the agreement was honourably carried out to
the minutest tittle; that of the Afghans was murderously broken.
The cantonments were quitted by the British troops on the 6th of
January, 1842. The troops not unnaturally murmured at having to give up
the guns and ammunition; but there was no help for it, and the doomed
regiments filed out towards the desert in a condition little capable of
successful defence against attack. The number of fighting men was not
more than 4,500 (chiefly Asiatics); but they were accompanied by 12,000
camp-followers, including the wives and children of the officers. An
inclement winter, with deep snow encumbering all the roads, added to the
horrors of the time, and the Ghiljies began to attack the rear-guard
immediately it had got clear of the cantonments. The fugitives entered
the Khoord-Cabul Pass on the 8th of January, 1842, and attacks now
became frequent and unsparing. The Afghans were posted on the
surrounding crags, and the English officers and troops began to fall
rapidly. Many of the women were carried away; many of the children were
killed. Fatigue, cold, and deprivation slew as many as the bullets of
the lurking foe. Some of our men became mutinous, and intoxicated
themselves with the stores of brandy which they had violently seized.
Ere long, all military discipline was lost. The men thought only of
themselves, and, disregarding the commands of their officers, hurried on
towards Jelalabad as fast as horses, camels, or their own legs, could
carry them. Several were frozen every night by the intense cold; and
those who woke in the morning, woke simply to a prospect of despair. One
gloomy and rugged pass succeeded another; but the relentless Afghans
were stationed at every point, and their matchlocks brought down the
scattered fugitives with unresting activity. More than once, Akbar Khan
entered into communication with the English officers, and, upon
receiving further hostages, made promises of assistance which were not
fulfilled. Occasionally the British troops and the Sepoys made a
desperate stand, and for a moment drove back their assailants; but, as
day succeeded day, their numbers became fewer, and the spirit of
resistance died within them. On the 12th and 13th of January, the force
was reduced to a mere fragment; but, in proportion to the smallness of
their numbers, the men seemed to recover the habits of discipline they
had lost, and, standing close together, entered into hand-to-hand
conflicts with the Afghans, in which the latter suffered severely. The
position, however, was absolutely hopeless, and, in the course of
January 13th, thirty soldiers--all who were now left, though the
camp-followers still numbered two or three hundred--took up their
station on the slopes of a hill, and fought with wonderful resolution
until overpowered and slain. Setting aside the hostages, all were now
exterminated--English, Sepoys, and camp-followers; all, with the
exception of one man, who, wounded, and in a state approaching
exhaustion, rode up to the walls of Jelalabad on that fatal 13th of
January, still holding in his nerveless grasp a broken and unavailing
sword. The survivor of the great catastrophe was Dr. Brydon, one of the
medical officers, who had somehow managed to escape the massacre, and
who conveyed intelligence of what had happened to General Sale and his
gallant companions, then holding a position which in itself was
desperate.
On one of the occasions when Akbar Khan held parley with the fugitives,
he suggested that the ladies and children should be given up to him, and
he undertook to convey them in safety to Peshawur. These terms were
accepted, with the single modification that the husbands of the married
ladies should accompany their wives. As the women and children could not
have escaped massacre, or death from cold and fatigue, had they remained
with the army, the arrangement was a wise one, as it offered them at
least a chance of life. They were treated with some consideration, and
ultimately rescued during the military operations of a later period. Two
days later--namely, on the 11th of January--Akbar Khan again entered
into negotiations with the English officers, and demanded that General
Elphinstone, Brigadier Shelton, and Captain Johnson, should be given up
to him as additional hostages. This was done, and the chief commander of
the British forces went into captivity with his two subordinates. The
treaty concluded by General Elphinstone and Akbar Khan, before the
former quitted Cabul, contained an article stipulating that the English
force at Jelalabad should march for Peshawur before the Cabul army
arrived, and should not delay on the road. Information of this agreement
was conveyed to Jelalabad by a band of horsemen, who, under cover of a
flag of truce, presented
[Illustration: THE REMNANT OF AN ARMY: ARRIVAL OF DR. BRYDON AT
JELALABAD. (_See p. 119._)
(_Sketch of the Picture by Lady Butler._)]
themselves before the gates. They bore with them a despatch from General
Elphinstone, ordering Sir Robert Sale to evacuate the country without
delay. Sale was placed in a very difficult position; for Elphinstone was
his superior officer, and yet to obey his orders, as by strict military
duty he was bound to do, might entail the destruction of his whole
force. He accordingly summoned a council of war, at which it was
formally resolved that to obey such an order would be imprudent. The
position, therefore, was held with splendid gallantry. The ruined
fortifications had already been reconstructed, and every effort was now
made to supply the town with food and fuel. It was known that an army
under General Pollock was hastening to the relief of the garrison; but
some time must elapse ere it could arrive, and in the meanwhile the
situation was fraught with peril. Akbar Khan, with a numerous army, had
appeared before the walls; but Sale determined to hold out to the last.
On the 19th of January, an earthquake shook the defences of the town
into ruins; and had
[Illustration: DOST MAHOMED.]
Akbar immediately assaulted the place, it is almost certain that he
would have taken it. Probably, the unexpected convulsion inspired him
with awe, and, as the English at once set to work to repair the damage
that had been done, they were soon in a position to resist attack. In
the early part of April, food and ammunition began to fail, and the
spirited commander determined on active operations. On the 7th of the
month the Afghans were attacked and driven off. With the remnant of his
disheartened army, Akbar fled towards Cabul, leaving in our hands a vast
amount of stores. Pollock was with difficulty forcing his way through
the Khyber Pass; on the 16th of April he arrived at Jelalabad; at the
same time, General Nott and Major (afterwards Sir Henry) Rawlinson were
holding Candahar; but Colonel Palmer, after a gallant defence, was
forced to surrender Ghizni to the Afghans. In the same month which
witnessed the
[Illustration: AKBAR KHAN.]
relief of Jelalabad, Shah Soojah was assassinated by the adherents of
his elder brother--a man, like himself, far advanced in years. The
position of Nott at Candahar was precarious, but, when at length
relieved, he was able to join Sale and Pollock in an advance on Cabul,
where they resolved to avenge the injuries of their countrymen. The
chief command was in the hands of Nott, who showed himself a thoroughly
capable officer. His first proceeding was to retake Ghizni, and on the
17th of September all three divisions effected their junction at Cabul.
It is lamentable to be obliged to add that the city was pillaged by our
infuriated soldiers, though perhaps not with the sanction of their
commanders, and that needless destruction and slaughter marked the path
of the avenging army.
The English prisoners, including the women and children, had during
their captivity been frequently moved about from place to place, often
in the most terrible extremities of weather, and under circumstances of
great hardship; but when the British army arrived at Cabul, they were on
their way back to that city. General Elphinstone had died on the 23rd
of April; the other members of the party were alive and well. On the
12th of October, the invaders left Cabul, and again, as on the occasion
of their advance, passed through defiles still rendered terrible by the
whitening bones of their comrades. The greater part of Jelalabad was
destroyed, together with the fortifications; Ali Musjid, in the Khyber
Pass, was blown into the air; and Afghanistan was entirely evacuated by
our troops before the close of 1842. The policy of Lord Auckland was now
completely reversed by his successor, Lord Ellenborough, whose term of
office had commenced on the 28th of February. In announcing the
withdrawal of the British forces from Afghanistan (which he did in a
proclamation dated from Simla on the 1st of October), Lord Ellenborough
observed that “to force a sovereign upon a reluctant people would be as
inconsistent with the policy as it is with the principles of the British
Government.” That, no doubt, was the only just position to assume; but
it should have been assumed three or four years earlier, and England
would then have been spared one of the greatest and most humiliating
disasters in the long course of her history. Our interposition had
entailed infinite misery on ourselves and on the Afghans, and it had
been absolutely unproductive of any good whatever. The country which we
had taken under our protection, and from which we had been ignominiously
expelled, was now in a state of anarchy, and, as that anarchy was of our
own creation, it behoved us to do something towards the restoration of
order. Dost Mahomed was set at liberty by the Anglo-Indian Government;
and he whom we had refused to recognise in 1838, whom we had driven
forth in 1839, and whom we received as a prisoner in 1840, was in 1843
restored to the throne which he seems to have had a legitimate claim to
fill. His reign was thus divided into two parts, and the division is
marked by a wide river of human blood.
After a tragedy, it was formerly the custom to play a farce. One might
almost suppose that the principle involved in this theatrical usage had
influenced the mind of Lord Ellenborough in a certain exploit which he
performed, in a very demonstrative spirit, shortly after the conclusion
of the Afghan war. When Sultan Mahmoud took the Hindoo city of Somnauth,
in 1025, he carried away with him the gates of the vast temple dedicated
to the god Soma, the idols of which he had shattered and cast down.
These trophies were taken to the Imperial city of Ghizni, from which
Mahmoud ruled his wide possessions; and there they had remained, or
something like them had been preserved, during a period of more than
eight hundred years. Lord Ellenborough was a man of great ability, but
of somewhat grandiose and theatrical tastes, even in the management of
practical affairs. He therefore determined to bring back the so-called
Gates of Somnauth to the place whence they had been originally removed.
The act would have been foolish enough, even had the genuineness of the
gates been entirely beyond dispute, which was very far from the case.
The Mohammedans could not but have felt insulted by the restoration of
anything connected with a gross idolatry, formerly destroyed by one of
the most illustrious of Moslem sovereigns; while the Hindoos were simply
reminded of their ancient disgrace and humiliation. These
considerations, however, were absent from the mind of Lord Ellenborough,
or disregarded by him; and on the 16th of November, 1842, he issued a
sonorous proclamation to all the princes, chiefs, and people of India.
“My brothers and my friends,” he said, “our victorious army bears the
gates of the Temple of Somnauth in triumph from Afghanistan, and the
despoiled tomb of Sultan Mahmoud looks upon the ruins of Ghizni. The
insult of eight hundred years is at last avenged. The gates of the
Temple of Somnauth, so long the memorial of your humiliation, are become
the proudest record of your national glory,--the proof of your
superiority in arms over the nations beyond the Indus. To you, princes
and chiefs of Sirhind, of Rajwarra, of Malwa and Guzerat, I shall commit
this glorious trophy of successful war. You will yourselves, with all
honour, transmit the gates of sandal-wood through your respective
territories to the restored Temple of Somnauth.” On the 14th of January,
1843, the gates were carried into Delhi in state, under a canopy of
crimson and gold; but the proceedings afterwards created great annoyance
in England, and were made the subject of animated Parliamentary debates.
Again we must revert to tragedy, for it is impossible to pass over, in
the events of this period, some terrible circumstances which occurred in
Bokhara, and of which two of our own countrymen were the victims.
Colonel Stoddart had been sent a few years previously to the Persian
camp before Herat, to insist that Persia must abandon the siege of that
important position. Thence he proceeded on some official business to
Bokhara, where, after a time, the Ameer became suspicious of his
designs, and threw him into prison. At a later date, Captain Arthur
Conolly was sent into the same country, but, after making a vain attempt
to procure the liberation of Stoddart, was himself confined in a
subterranean dungeon, where he and his fellow-sufferer were kept in
complete darkness, without being allowed to change their clothes, or to
wash themselves, and with a very insufficient supply of food, which was
let down to them once in four or five days. The Ameer suspected the two
strangers of being spies in the employment of his enemies, and their
case was considerably prejudiced by the refusal of the Indian and Home
Governments to recognise the captives as official agents. Conolly had in
the first instance gone to Khokand, where he was engaged in endeavouring
to effect the release of slaves; but Lord Ellenborough declared that he
had no knowledge of his mission to that country having been authorised,
and he added that that unfortunate officer had been expressly instructed
by the President of the Board of Control not to go to Khokand, so that,
it was remarked, he in all probability owed his misfortunes to the
direct transgression of those orders. How far these statements are to be
accepted as absolute truth, appears somewhat doubtful; but at any rate
the adoption of such a tone was ill calculated to obtain the release of
the prisoners from a ferocious tyrant like the Ameer of Bokhara.
Appeals, it is true, were made to his good feelings; but unfortunately
he did not possess any, and the condition of the prisoners became
progressively worse. Under these circumstances, Dr. Wolff, a German Jew
who had been converted to Christianity, courageously undertook an
expedition to Bokhara, in the hope of delivering the prisoners. On
arriving in that country, however, he heard they had already been put to
death. The
[Illustration: HOLYROOD PALACE, EDINBURGH.]
double execution seems to have been in the summer of 1843, some time
before Dr. Wolff even set out on his expedition. The heroic missionary
was himself imprisoned for a considerable time, but at length obtained
his release, and came to England in 1845, when he was enthusiastically
received by all who had watched his fortunes with mingled admiration and
alarm.
While Afghanistan was distracted by a vengeful war, the general state of
England continued even worse than in the earlier part of the year.
Parliament was prorogued on the 12th of August, 1842, by the Queen in
person, and in the Speech from the Throne her Majesty expressed a hope
that the members of the two Houses “would do their utmost to encourage,
by example and active exertions, that spirit of order and submission to
the law without which there
[Illustration: THE QUEEN’S ENTRY INTO EDINBURGH. (_See p. 127._)]
can be no enjoyment of the fruits of peaceful industry, and no advance
in the career of social improvement.” Sedition was indeed becoming more
ripe every day. In the manufacturing towns, mills were violently entered
by disorderly mobs, their machinery was destroyed, and those who were
willing to work were compelled to abandon their labours. Manchester was
in so disturbed a state that a regiment of the Guards was despatched
thither to overawe the malcontents; and in many of the northern towns
collisions, attended by bloodshed and loss of life, occurred from time
to time. The demand of the workpeople was for increase of wages; but
political ideas also were mixed up with the purely social question. The
Chartists joined the discontented artisans, and for a while the
Government was seriously alarmed. But the arrest of the leaders struck
terror into the rest, and, as the autumn advanced, the worst of the
danger was at an end. In the west of Scotland, however, disturbances
continued for some time longer; yet it was at this period that the Queen
and Prince Albert paid their first visit to the Northern Kingdom.
It had been intended by the Royal couple to visit Belgium in the autumn
of 1842, to meet there some members of the family of Louis Philippe.
This design, however, was frustrated by the unhappy death of the Duke of
Orleans, who was killed by an accident on the 13th of July. The Duke was
the favourite brother of the Queen of the Belgians, and the sad event
threw both Courts into the deepest mourning. Her Majesty and Prince
Albert were profoundly afflicted by the casualty, and, being unable to
visit Belgium, resolved to turn their faces towards Scotland.
Notwithstanding the turbulence of the Scottish working classes in the
manufacturing cities, the reception given to the Queen and her husband
was of the most enthusiastic character, and the journey of 1842 became a
precedent for many later years. The Royal yacht was accompanied by a
squadron of nine vessels, in addition to which were the Trinity House
steamer and a packet. The voyage was slow and tedious, and her Majesty
suffered a good deal from the roughness of the sea. She was much struck
by the first appearance of the Scottish coast, which she describes as
“dark, rocky, bold, and wild.” At half-past six on the evening of August
31st, they passed St. Abb’s Head, and her Majesty records that “numbers
of fishing boats (in one of which was a piper playing), and steamers
full of people, came out to meet us, and on board of one large steamer
they danced a reel to a band. It was a beautiful evening, calm, with a
fine sunset, and the air so pure.”[14] As the Royal yacht proceeded up
the Firth of Forth under the gathering darkness, the neighbouring
heights were seen to be lighted with beacon-fires, to which the yacht
responded by sending up rockets and burning blue lights. The Royal party
landed at Leith on the 1st of September, and drove in a barouche to
Edinburgh, with which both the Queen and Prince Albert were greatly
pleased. The various historical monuments and buildings in the Scottish
capital, and the objects of interest in the neighbourhood, proved
sources of great delight to the distinguished visitors; and Prince
Albert, writing to the Duchess of Saxe-Gotha on the 18th of September,
shortly after the return to Windsor, says:--“Scotland has made a most
favourable impression upon us both. The country is full of beauty, of a
severe and grand character; perfect for sport, and the air remarkably
pure and light in comparison with what we have here. The people are more
natural, and marked by that honesty and sympathy which always
distinguish the inhabitants of mountainous countries who live away from
towns. There is, moreover, no country where historical traditions are
preserved with such fidelity, or to the same extent.” Although the stay
of the Royal visitors was not very long, they entered the Highlands, and
at every point were received with the warmth which Scotsmen are not slow
to exhibit when their national pride is delicately touched.
When the Queen first entered Edinburgh, there had been a slight mistake,
which occasioned some inconvenience. It was expected that her Majesty
would be received by the Lord Provost and magistrates of the city; but,
owing to a misconception as to the hour of landing, they were not there.
To make up for the disappointment thus occasioned, the Queen re-entered
the city on the 3rd of September, when she was received in state by the
authorities. The route, which was crowded with sight-seers, was from
Holyrood, up the Canongate and High Street, to the Castle, and then by
the Earthen Mound and Princes Street to Dalmeny Park, the seat of the
Earl of Rosebery. On the same day, the foundation-stone of Victoria
Hall, designed for the use of the General Assembly of the Kirk, was laid
in honour of her Majesty’s visit; and on later days the seats of some of
the Scottish nobility were visited by the Royal party, when a great deal
was seen of the Highland clans and their feudal usages. The Queen sailed
from Granton Pier on the 15th of September, and a letter was addressed
to the Lord Advocate by the Earl of Aberdeen, in which the latter was
instructed to say:--“The Queen will leave Scotland with a feeling of
regret that her visit on the present occasion could not be farther
prolonged. Her Majesty fully expected to witness the loyalty and
attachment of her Scottish subjects; but the devotion and enthusiasm
evinced in every quarter, and by all ranks, have produced an impression
on the mind of her Majesty which can never be effaced.” The journey was
in many respects a memorable one; and shortly after the return of her
Majesty and the Prince, they received intelligence of the fall of Ghizni
and Cabul, of the rescue of the prisoners in Afghanistan, and of the
conclusion of peace with China. The news reached them on the 23rd of
November at Walmer Castle, which had been placed at their disposal by
the Duke of Wellington. It was the desire of the Queen that a Chinese
and also an Afghan medal should be struck, and distributed throughout
the armies. Lord Ellenborough however, had already, though without due
authority, issued medals to the Indian army, and all that her Majesty
could now do was to confer honours on the combatants in China.
The interest of Prince Albert in English politics continued to increase
with every year, and the Queen leant proportionately on his judgment for
direction in affairs of State. The Prince never obtruded his advice, yet
it was none the less a subtle influence, pervading the mind of his
consort, and operating for good in many ways. The Ministry of Sir Robert
Peel was even more inclined than that of Lord Melbourne to admit this
influence; and as early as 1842 suggestions were made that, in the event
of the Duke of Wellington’s death, the office of Commander-in-Chief
should be conferred upon the Prince. Baron Stockmar, whose judgment was
frequently appealed to on such matters, both by the Royal Family and the
Government, was consulted on this subject; but the project met with his
entire disapproval. It was one of many instances showing the good sense
possessed by that devoted friend of the Prince and of her Majesty. The
occupation of such a post by a foreigner would not unreasonably have
offended the susceptibilities of the English nation. The Prince himself
saw the wisdom of the Baron’s advice, though it would seem that there
was occasionally a little sensitiveness in his own mind as to the light
in which he was regarded by Englishmen generally. His secretary, Mr.
Anson, has recorded that one day, about this period, the Prince, in
reading Hallam’s “Constitutional History,” copied out and sent to him a
passage concerning William III., which runs:--“The demeanour of William,
always cold, and sometimes harsh, _his foreign origin_ (a sort _of crime
in English eyes_), etc., conspired to keep alive this disaffection.” In
talking over this matter with the Prince, Mr. Anson observed that a
laudable and natural jealousy of foreigners prevailed in the minds of
Englishmen, but that he did not think any such feeling existed towards
the Prince himself. His Royal Highness fully admitted this view, and
acknowledged the kindness with which he had been received in England.
Yet it is difficult to understand why he should have made so pointed an
extract, unless he had thought that it contained, by reflection, some
kind of reference to his own case.
In one respect especially, the example of Prince Albert was of the
greatest value to the whole nation. He maintained a high character for
honour and purity in the Court, and thence, by a species of moral
contagion of the better kind, throughout the circles with which he was
immediately connected. From the very commencement of his career in
England, he determined, not merely that his actions should be free from
reproach, but that his whole conduct should be so strictly governed as
to render reproach impossible. This noble resolve has been well
described by General Grey, who, in his interesting work on the early
life of the Prince, writes:--“He imposed a degree of restraint and
self-denial upon his own movements which could not but have been
irksome, had he not been sustained by a sense of the advantage which the
Throne would derive from it. He denied himself the pleasure--which, to
one so fond as he was of personally watching and inspecting every
improvement that was in progress, would have been very great--of walking
at will about the town. Wherever he went, whether in a carriage or on
horseback, he was accompanied by his equerry. He paid no visits in
general society. His visits were to the studio of the artist, to museums
of art or science, to institutions for good and benevolent purposes.
Wherever a visit from him, or his presence, could tend to advance the
real good of the people, there his horses might be seen waiting; never
at the door of mere
[Illustration: LORD JOHN RUSSELL. (_From the Statue by Sir J. E. Boehm,
R.A._)]
fashion.”[15] To this testimony may be added that of her Majesty, who
has recorded that he would frequently return to luncheon at a great
pace, and would always come through the Queen’s dressing-room, where she
generally was at that time, with that bright, loving smile with which he
ever greeted her; telling where he had been--what new buildings he had
seen--what studios, &c., he had visited. Riding for mere riding’s sake
he disliked, and said, “It bores me so!”
By this date his time was fully occupied, for he had undertaken many
duties, and was obliged to see many people. In the autumn of 1842 he
undertook some of the duties of the Privy Purse, which until then had
been discharged by the Baroness Lehzen; and it was about this time that
he began to give serious attention to that reorganisation of the Royal
Household which has already been described. The demands upon him had
indeed become so incessant that he was often obliged to sacrifice his
hasty rides. In the December of the same year her Majesty writes to
Baron Stockmar to the effect that measures should be taken “to prevent
his being besieged in London by so many unnecessary people. His health
is so invaluable, not only to me (to whom he is more than all-in-all),
but to this whole country, that we must do our duty, and manage that he
is not so overwhelmed with people.” The Prince was in fact a working man
in the truest sense of the word. His life was one of almost incessant
toil, and the pleasures with which he lightened and relieved it were
those of an intellectual inquirer, who could be satisfied with nothing
that was frivolous or base.
In the existing distress at this period of our history, much attention
was given to colonisation. On the 28th of April, a meeting was held in
London under the Presidency of the Archbishop of Canterbury, with a view
to raising funds for sending out Bishops to our distant possessions, and
a large sum of money was obtained for that purpose. On the same day the
preliminary expedition of the second colony to New Zealand sailed under
the command of Captain Wakefield, and the colony itself was to be formed
on the principle laid down by Mr. Edward Gibbon Wakefield, which
provided that the land-produce fund should be applied to the purpose of
obtaining labour. Scarcely anything was known of New Zealand until
1769-70, when it was circumnavigated by Captain Cook, and found to be
insular, and not continental, as had been supposed. Very little was done
in the way of colonisation until 1839, when a New Zealand Company was
established, and the town of Wellington was founded. On the 13th of
February, 1841, a dinner was given to Lord John Russell, then Colonial
Secretary, to celebrate the foundation of England’s most recent colony;
and in subsequent years the settlement made excellent progress, though
often exposed to attack from the Maories. In 1842 a law received the
Royal Assent conferring a representative Government on New South Wales;
and, from this time forward, the colonies of Great Britain wisely
received from the Home Administration and Legislature a greater amount
of attention than had been previously bestowed.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE ADMINISTRATION OF SIR ROBERT PEEL.
Renewed Popularity of the Queen--Services of Prince Albert--A
Volunteer Poet Laureate--Birth of the Princess Alice--The Whig
Deficit, and how Sir Robert Peel dealt with it--The Income Tax, and
Reduction of Duties--The Sliding Scale--Advance of Free Trade
Principles--Assassination of Mr. Drummond--The Question of Criminal
Insanity--Sir Robert Peel and Mr. Cobden--Disturbances in South
Wales: “Rebecca” and her Daughters--Condition of Women in Mines and
Collieries--Lord Ashley and the Factories Act--Opinion of the Queen
and Prince Albert on the Qualities of Sir Robert Peel--Levees held
by the Prince--The Frescoes for the Houses of
Parliament--Encouragement of Fresco-Painting by the Queen and
Prince Albert--The Summer House in the Gardens of Buckingham
Palace--Visit of her Majesty and the Prince to Louis Philippe at
the Château d’Eu--The Duke of Wellington on the Necessity for a
Council of Regency--Designs of France on the Succession to the
Spanish Throne--Dishonest Engagement of the French King--English
Opinion completely Misled--Royal Visits to Belgium, to Cambridge,
and to the Midlands--The Prince as a Fox-hunter--Model
Farming--Events in India: Wars in Scinde and Gwalior.
A very important and very happy result of Prince Albert’s influence was
seen in the revived popularity of the Queen after a few years had
passed. In 1839, as the reader is aware, the feeling with which her
Majesty was regarded by a wide section of the people revealed a danger
of no inconsiderable magnitude, and threatened to give a peculiarly
acrid character to political discussion. By 1842 this sentiment had very
nearly disappeared; and the change was largely due to the companionship
and advice of the Queen’s consort. We must not forget, however, the
excellent guidance which the Prince himself received from Baron
Stockmar; and although Englishmen cannot but have felt a little jealous
that their political and social state was so much influenced by
foreigners, they must have been none the less grateful for the fact, let
it come how it might. For the improved state of public feeling Prince
Albert obtained no credit at the time. The people knew very little about
him, and the aristocracy, who had opportunities of seeing his Royal
Highness, considered him somewhat cold and haughty. The opinion was not
altogether unwarranted, though it proceeded from a misapprehension. A
certain reserve of manner resulted almost inevitably from the severe
moral restrictions which the Prince laid upon himself; but who would not
purchase so great a gain at the cost of a few external attractions, not
necessarily associated with the higher virtues?
During the first few years of her reign the Queen had not the benefit
(such as it is) of those poetical eulogiums which are reasonably to be
expected by a court which maintains a Poet Laureate. Although Southey,
the then holder of the office, did not die until 1843, his mental state
had for some years been such as to render all intellectual work
impossible. In this interregnum of Parnassus, Leigh Hunt--who, a
generation earlier, had been imprisoned for libelling the Prince Regent,
but who was converted to courtliness by the liberal development of
modern times--addressed some verses to the Queen, in the earliest of
which, with the quaint familiarity of his genius, he commends her
Majesty for possessing “the ripe Guelph cheek, and good, straight
Coburg brow,” which were held to be significant of “pleasure and
reason.” The poet afterwards alludes to the recent birth of the Princess
Royal in lines of touching beauty. Still speaking of the Queen herself,
he writes:--
“May her own soul, this instant, while I sing,
Be smiling, as beneath some angel’s wing,
O’er the dear life in life, the small, sweet, new,
Unselfish self, the filial self of two,
Bliss of her future eyes, her pillow’d gaze,
On whom a mother’s heart thinks close, and prays.”
Another poem, more particularly addressed to the Princess Royal, “Three
Visions occasioned by the Birth and Christening of the Prince of Wales,”
and some “Lines on the Birth of the Princess Alice” (which occurred on
the 25th of April, 1843), appeared in due succession. But the poetical
interregnum came to an end in the spring of 1843, when, owing to the
death of Southey, Wordsworth succeeded to the post; and the volunteer
lyrist was heard no more on such topics. His few courtly poems are
singularly pervaded by that profound faith in the speedy coming of a
kind of golden age of peace, wisdom, health, gentleness, and universal
prosperity, which characterised the earlier years of the present
century, and especially the mind of Leigh Hunt, but which, in the
disappointments and gathering melancholy of the present day, wears an
aspect at once mournful and tender. The conclusion of the poem to the
Princess Alice is worth quoting, because of the sad failure of its
aspiration, combined with its remarkable truthfulness in other respects.
Still harping on that wondrous age of human perfection which seems as
far off as ever, the poet exclaims:--
“Thee, meantime, fair child of one
Fit to see that golden sun,
Thee may no worse lot befall
Than a long life, April all;
Fuller, much, of hopes than fears,
Kind in smiles and kind in tears,
Graceful, cheerful, ever new,
Heaven and earth both kept in view,
While the poor look up, and bless
Thy celestial bounteousness.
And, when all thy days are done,
And sadness views thy setting sun,
Mayst thou greet thy mother’s eyes,
And endless May in Paradise.”
Shortly after the birth of the Princess Alice the Queen wrote to the
King of the Belgians:--“Albert has been, as usual, all kindness and
goodness. Our little baby is to be called Alice, an old English name,
and the other names are to be Maud (another old English name, and the
same as Matilda), and Mary, as she was born on Aunt Gloucester’s
birthday. The sponsors are to be the King of Hanover, Ernestus Primus
(now the Duke of Coburg), poor Princess Sophia Matilda, and Feodore; and
the christening [is] to be on the 2nd of June.” The ceremony went off
very well; but the King of Hanover arrived too late to be present. In
after years the Princess Alice became the wife of the Grand Duke of
Hesse, and was well known for her intelligent benevolence and charity.
She died on the 14th of December, 1878.
Unfettered by indirect influences, the Government of Sir Robert Peel was
[Illustration: LOBBY OF THE HOUSE OF COMMONS.]
now acquiring the confidence of the country by the masterly way in which
its chief handled the great questions of the hour. One of the first
things to be dealt with was the financial deficit left by the Whigs,
which had reached the alarming total of more than ten millions for the
previous six years. This was met by the creation of an Income Tax of
sevenpence in the pound; and in the memorable statement which Sir Robert
Peel made to the House of Commons on the 11th of March, 1842, a
confident expectation was held out that the proceeds of such an impost
would not merely fill up the deficit, but yield a surplus such as would
enable the Ministry to reduce the taxes on commodities to an immense
extent. All incomes below £150 were to be exempt from the new, or
rather the revived, tax; but no distinction was made between the
precarious income resulting from trades, professions, and employments,
and that derived from the much more assured source of landed and other
property. This was regarded by the professional and mercantile classes
as an injustice; but though the tax was not popular, most persons were
compelled to admit that they saw no other way out of the difficulty. Sir
Robert Peel argued that the maximum of indirect taxation had been
reached, and that to accumulate further duties on the necessaries and
luxuries of life would be productive of the greatest injury to trade,
while to reduce them would operate as a stimulus to manufactures and to
commerce. If, then, indirect taxation was shut out by the very
circumstances of the case, a tax on income was all that remained. Such
an impost, amounting to no less than ten per cent. on the income of the
country, was cheerfully borne during the war with Bonaparte; yet people
thought it hard that, with no war at all, they were to be subjected to
the same vexatious demand, though at the much lower rate of something
less than three per cent. It was understood at the time that the tax was
not to last beyond three, or at the most five, years; but in fact it has
never been taken off to this day, though varying in amount from time to
time. We must never forget, however, that its existence, unpleasant and
objectionable as it is in some respects, has enabled successive
Governments to remove many millions of taxation, which hampered trade,
and seriously enhanced the price of necessaries. In the year now passing
under notice (1842), Sir Robert Peel reduced the Customs duties on 750
out of 1,200 articles, and entirely abolished the duties on some minor
foreign commodities. The reduction of indirect taxation in the ensuing
three years was about £12,000,000.
While thus opening a new and in many ways better prospect to the
country, the Premier still clung to Protectionist measures with regard
to foreign corn. On the 9th of February--a month before the introduction
of the new Tariff--he brought forward his Sliding Scale, by which the
duties on foreign wheat, oats, and barley, rose or fell according to the
cheapness or dearness of what was grown at home. The arrangement gave
satisfaction to no one. Mr. Cobden and his followers would accept
nothing but absolute freedom of trade; the landed proprietors were
content with nothing short of absolute Protection; and between these two
extremes were the Whigs, who preferred--for the present, at least--the
low fixed duty which they had proposed the year before. Nevertheless,
Peel carried his Sliding Scale, for he had a good party vote at his
back. The members of the Anti-Corn-Law League, however, had the greatest
cause for rejoicing, for it was evident that matters were moving in the
direction of Free Trade. People began to talk of the Corn Laws as
doomed, and even Sir Robert Peel, in his speech of March 11th, when
introducing his Tariff proposals, observed:--“I believe that on the
general principle of Free Trade there is now no great difference of
opinion, and that all agree in the general rule that we should purchase
in the cheapest market, and sell in the dearest.” He still held back
from applying this rule to corn; but no one could doubt how his mind was
tending, and some four years later he began that beneficent course of
Free Trade legislation which Liberal Governments afterwards perfected.
The Leaguers acquired fresh spirit from the prospect of approaching
triumph, and renewed meetings were held, both in London and the
provinces.
In the early part of 1843 a very painful incident occurred, which
excited the liveliest sympathy of the Queen and Prince Albert, and which
for a time seemed to place the life of Sir Robert Peel in jeopardy. On
the 20th of January, a man named Daniel McNaughten shot Mr. Edward
Drummond, the private secretary of the Premier, as he was passing along
Whitehall between the Admiralty and the Horse Guards. The unfortunate
gentleman expired on the 25th of the same month, and some were found to
maintain that the fatal issue was due more to the bleeding ordered by
his medical attendants than to the effects of the pistol-shot. However
this may have been, it is certain that the practice of phlebotomy
decreased shortly after this melancholy event, and has never since
regained the position it once held in medical practice. McNaughten, on
being seized, and conveyed to the nearest police-station, declared that
the Tories had been persecuting him for many years, and that that was
his justification for committing the act. From this expression, and some
others to which he gave utterance, it was inferred that his intention
was to shoot Sir Robert Peel, and that he mistook Mr. Drummond for the
First Minister, to whom the secretary seems to have borne some slight
resemblance. The public mind was much excited by what appeared to be a
deliberate attempt to make the head of the Government personally
responsible for a supposed, and doubtless an imaginary, wrong. Taken in
conjunction with the recent attacks upon the Queen, the crime was
thought by many to reveal a widespread conspiracy against the deepest
principles of social order, and the alarm in Court circles, and amongst
the members of the Administration, was naturally very great. Of course
there was exaggeration in this feeling; matters were not really so bad
as they appeared. But for some time it was considered necessary that Sir
Robert Peel should be guarded by policemen in plain clothes, and
measures were taken to protect the Court. Alluding to the assassination
in a letter to King Leopold, dated January 31st, the Queen
observes:--“Poor Drummond is universally regretted. Indeed, I seldom
remember so strong an interest (beginning with ourselves) being taken
in, and so much feeling so generally shown towards, a private
individual. People can hardly think of anything else. I trust it will
have the beneficial effect of making people feel the difference between
complete madness, which deprives a man of _all_ sense, and madness which
does _not_ prevent a man from knowing right from wrong.” This
distinction does not seem to have been present to the minds of the jury
before whom McNaughten was tried early in March. They returned a verdict
that the prisoner was “Not guilty, on the ground of insanity;” and he
was ordered to be kept in confinement during her Majesty’s pleasure. The
public, however, were greatly
[Illustration: “REBECCA” RIOT IN SOUTH WALES. (_See p. 138_)]
discontented with this finding; and the general question, as to what was
to be considered the standard of irresponsible mania, was submitted to
the whole of the Judges, who were desired to answer the question, “If a
person under an insane delusion as to existing facts commits an offence
in consequence thereof, is he thereby excused?” The answer was given on
the 19th of July, 1843,
[Illustration: LORD ASHLEY (AFTERWARDS EARL OF SHAFTESBURY).]
when an unanimous opinion was pronounced, that he was equally liable
with the person of sane mind.
Lady Peel was made very ill by the terrible event of January; and the
habitual equanimity of Sir Robert himself underwent some disturbance.
This was seen on the 16th of February, during the debate on Lord
Howick’s motion for a Committee of the whole House to consider the
reference in the Queen’s Speech at the opening of Parliament (February
2nd) to the long-continued depression of manufacturing industry. In the
course of the discussion, Mr. Cobden said that he held Sir Robert Peel
personally responsible for the existing lamentable and dangerous state
of affairs. The words were not well chosen; but the Premier, who was out
of health at the time, and suffering from anxiety and sorrow,
passionately leapt to the conclusion that Mr. Cobden was uttering a
thinly-veiled incentive to his assassination. The distinguished Free
Trader denied the imputation, received a direct contradiction from his
adversary, and ultimately explained, in the midst of great confusion,
that what he meant was that the right honourable Baronet was responsible
by virtue of his office. The time was one of abnormal excitement, and
great allowance must be made both for Peel and Cobden, but especially
for the former. Only a few weeks later, Mr. Goulburn, the Chancellor of
the Exchequer, applied at Bow Street Police Office for a warrant to
arrest a retired officer of the navy, who had threatened to shoot him.
The unsettled condition of the country was shown by some disturbances
which occurred about this time in South Wales. The small farmers in that
portion of the Principality complained much of the heavy road-taxes
which had been recently imposed. The tolls were often so onerous as to
absorb the profit arising from the commodities which these humble people
took to market. A number of gates had been set up, which were generally
believed to be beyond the provisions of the law; and as these were
destroyed with impunity, many people resolved to make a crusade against
_all_ toll-gates, wheresoever they might be found. In a wild and
thinly-peopled country like Wales, authority is necessarily weak; and
the conspirators against the gates were able to carry out their projects
with less interference than would have been encountered in many other
parts of the island. But it was considered advisable that these
operations should take place after dark, and the winter of 1842-3 was
rendered memorable by a series of successful attacks upon the toll-bars,
attended by circumstances which were at once picturesque and alarming.
The leader of the movement called himself “Rebecca,” from a strange
misapplication of a passage in Genesis, and dressed himself in women’s
clothes. Several of his followers were similarly disguised, and those
who preserved their proper character as men wore masks over their faces.
In the middle of the night the toll-keepers were aroused by a disorderly
mob, armed with guns, and bearing torches, saws, and hatchets. Not only
were the gates cut down and thrown on the adjacent land, but the
toll-houses also were destroyed, and the occupants obliged to finish
their night’s rest, if they could finish it at all, in the open field,
or on the bleak hill-side. So general was the support given to these
rioters that the police and soldiery were frequently baffled in their
endeavours to come up with them. But at first no personal outrages were
committed. Unfortunately, however, a much worse spirit afterwards set
in. Some Chartist emissaries were sent into South Wales; political
ideas, having reference to the abolition of tithes, of Church rates, and
of the existing Poor Law, were mixed up with the original objects of the
association; and in the autumn of 1843 incendiarism and murder marked
the progress of this disorderly band. At the same period, however, the
gang were severely handled by the military; and when some exemplary
punishments had been passed upon the principal rioters, a more lawful
state of mind began to set in. The Government, on the other hand,
showed a disposition to leniency, and in the following year an amended
Turnpike Act for South Wales removed the grievances which had been the
original excuse for the outbreak.
The greatest sufferers are usually silent; it is others who discover
their miseries, bring them into the light of day, and procure their
amendment. Such was the case with the workers in mines and collieries,
an inquiry into whose state was conducted by a Commission, whose report
was published in the early part of 1842. It appeared from this report
that, in some of the coal-mines, women and girls were employed as beasts
of burden. By means of a chain passing between the legs, and connected
with a belt strapped round their waists, they were compelled to drag to
and fro, on hands and knees, and often for fourteen or sixteen hours a
day, trucks heavily laden with coal, through passages too low to permit
of these persons going upright. They were nearly naked, their clothing
consisting of nothing more than a pair of trousers made of sacking.
Their bodies were encrusted with the grime of the coal-dust, and many
were completely unsexed, and presented chests that were as flat as those
of men. By far the greater part of their lives was passed underground,
in the black and cavernous recesses of the mine; and the morality of
these unhappy creatures was equal to their physical degradation.
Children were also employed, and treated with even greater brutality.
Overworked and beaten by their cruel taskmasters, these children grew up
stunted and diseased, and it was evident that nothing but widespread
ruin, both of body and soul, could result from a system so monstrously
opposed to all the laws of nature. The statesman who procured the
Commission of Inquiry was Lord Ashley, afterwards still more famous as
Earl of Shaftesbury; and it was he who subsequently introduced and
carried the Mines and Collieries Act, by which women and girls were
forbidden to be employed in any form of mining or colliery labour, and
the employment of boys was not to be permitted under the age of ten
years. Moreover, the term of apprenticeship was limited, and the
Secretary of State was empowered to appoint Inspectors of Mines and
Collieries, that the provisions of the Bill should not be evaded by
those interested in defeating them. The Act was passed in 1842, but did
not come into operation until 1843. Its effect was unquestionably good;
yet it was found difficult to restrain many women from continuing the
work to which they had been accustomed, and which perhaps they could not
readily exchange for anything better. The Mines and Collieries Act was a
measure in which we may be certain that the Queen, as a woman and a
mother, took the deepest interest, and it is equally beyond question
that the benevolent and clear-seeing mind of Prince Albert was also
enlisted on behalf of sufferers of so peculiar and helpless an order.
It was at this time that great attention began to be paid to social as
apart from political questions. Lord Ashley devoted a good deal of pains
to effecting a limitation of the daily labour of women and young persons
in factories. He ultimately obtained from the Government, in 1844, a
Factories Act which threw some protection around children who had
previously been employed to an extent, and for a number of successive
hours, terribly injurious to their physical and moral health. It was the
desire of Sir James Graham, the Home Secretary, to engraft upon this
Bill certain provisions for the education of young persons engaged in
the large manufacturing establishments of the country; but, owing to the
opposition of the Dissenters, who feared that the influence of the
Church would be unduly extended, it was found necessary to abandon the
proposed clauses. Even with respect to the main objects of the Bill,
there was considerable opposition; for the bigoted adherents of
political economy would not tolerate a measure which interfered with
what they regarded as the right of contract between the employers and
the employed. Their principle was doubtless a good one in the main; but
children are so much under the influence of others that some departure
from the rule was necessary in their case, especially as it was well
known that the evil and the suffering were great. The more bitter
opponents of Lord Ashley argued that he ought to look nearer home; that
the peasantry on his father’s estates, to which in due course he would
succeed, were in a worse condition than the female and juvenile
operatives in the factories; that the aristocratic reformer knew nothing
about manufacturing life; and that in truth there was not much to
complain of. But the fact that the agricultural labourers on the lands
of Lord Ashley’s father were poor and miserable, was no reason why Lord
Ashley should not interest himself in another class of sufferers; while,
as to the condition of the children in the seats of manufacturing
industry, there could be no question, to any impartial mind, that it was
such as to render the interposition of the law imperatively necessary.
The general principle has since been extended in many other Acts of
Parliament, even to the protection of women; and the bitter opposition
of former times has become less and less. It is now admitted that
special circumstances call for special legislation; that care for the
young has even yet been insufficiently carried out; and that to
sacrifice tender lives to economical theories is little better than to
repeat in another form the Hindoo worship of Juggernaut. Some slight
extension of the time devoted to education was introduced into the Act
of 1844, in place of the more complete provision which it was originally
intended to make; and the effect of this arrangement was found to be
good, though a still further application of the system would
unquestionably have been better.
As the session of 1843 advanced, the Queen and Prince Albert conceived a
yet higher opinion of the great qualities exhibited by Sir Robert Peel.
Her Majesty described him to the King of the Belgians as “a man who
thinks but little of party, and never of himself.” The Prince, with his
remarkable keenness of judgment, anticipated that it would not be long
ere Peel would quit the Conservative party, or the Conservatives, in the
main, would desert him. In a Memorandum of Mr. Anson’s, dated April
30th, 1843, we read:--“The Prince said yesterday, that Sir Robert Peel
was certainly far from popular with the Conservative party. He, for his
part, had the greater confidence in Sir Robert for the very cause to
which he attributed the want of confidence with which his party regarded
him. It was that Sir Robert was determined to adopt his own line, and
not to be turned aside by the fear of making political enemies, or
losing support. He was determined either to stand or fall by his own
opinion; and the Prince felt that in such a man’s hands the interests of
the Crown were most secure.” In little more than three years it was seen
that Peel did in truth “fall” by devotion to what he considered
necessary to the well-being of the
[Illustration: WESTMINSTER HALL.]
country. By his conversion to Free Trade he lost the support of the
Conservative party, and was expelled from office by a combination which
placed him at a hopeless disadvantage. That he would once more have
risen to the head of affairs, had not an accident cut short his life,
cannot be doubted; but, with the change of Ministry in 1846, his
official existence came to a close.
The state of her health precluded the Queen from opening Parliament in
person on the 2nd of February, 1843, and for the same reason she was
unable to hold the usual spring levees. These were accordingly held by
Prince Albert, as the representative of her Majesty; but some members of
the Court were so much annoyed at the arrangement, which they regarded
as an unwarrantable assumption of Royal functions by the Prince, that
they absented themselves from these ceremonial gatherings. The speedy
recovery of the sovereign after the birth of the Princess Alice soon
enabled her Majesty to occupy once more her proper position at the head
of the Court, and the general opinion of the public was quite in favour
of the step which had been temporarily adopted. This left Prince Albert
free to devote himself with the greater application to his duties as
head of the Royal Commission on the Fine Arts, which had been appointed
with reference to the decoration of the new Houses of Parliament. In the
summer of 1843, several cartoons, on subjects illustrative of English
History and Poetry, were exhibited in Westminster Hall, and prizes were
offered for the best productions. The collection excited great interest,
and large numbers of persons thronged the magnificent old structure, to
scan the designs submitted by the competitors. Those which were
ultimately selected have been executed in fresco for the two Houses;
but, owing either to climate, or to a bad preparation of the colours, or
to both causes combined, these fine works have greatly decayed during
the short period since their execution. Prince Albert took a keen
interest in fresco-painting, and caused a summer-house in the garden of
Buckingham Palace to be decorated in this manner. The result was a
series of eight pictures in illustration of Milton’s “Comus.” The
artists were Sir Edwin Landseer, Maclise, Uwins, Eastlake, Leslie, Sir
William Ross, Dyce, and Stanfield; and the progress of their work was
closely watched by her Majesty and the Prince. Mr. Uwins, in a letter to
a friend, written on the 15th of August, 1843, gives a very interesting
account of the impression produced on his mind by the Queen and her
gifted consort. “The Queen,” he observes, “is full of intelligence, her
observations very acute, and her judgment apparently matured beyond her
age. It has happened to me in life to see something of many Royal
personages, and I must say, with the single exception of the Duke of
Kent, I have never met with any, either in England or on the Continent
of Europe, who have impressed me so favourably as our reigning sovereign
and her young and interesting husband. Coming to us twice a day,
unannounced and without attendants, entirely stripped of all State and
ceremony, courting conversation, and desiring rather reason than
obedience, they have gained our admiration and love.... Our peaceful
pursuits are in accordance with the scene; and the opportunity of
watching our proceedings seems to give a zest to the enjoyment of these
moments snatched from State parade and ceremony. Here, too, the Royal
children are brought out by their nurses, and the whole arrangement
seems like real domestic pleasure.”
On the 28th of August--the very day after the prorogation of
Parliament--the Queen and Prince Albert embarked at Southampton, to
spend a short time with the King of the French, who was staying at
Château d’Eu, near Tréport. The voyagers sailed in their new yacht,
_Victoria and Albert_, which was only just finished, but of which we
have heard much in later years. For a couple of days they cruised about
the Isle of Wight, and along the coast of Devonshire, and then,
crossing the Channel, arrived at Tréport on the evening of September
2nd. Louis Philippe came off in his barge to welcome the distinguished
visitors, and was accompanied by several members of his family, by M.
Guizot, the Minister for Foreign Affairs, by Lord Cowley, the English
Ambassador at Paris, and by several officers and others. The English
party were rowed ashore in the French barge, over which the Royal
Standards of France and England floated in genial companionship. The
reception of the Queen was such as almost to overpower her with emotion,
and the whole visit appears to have yielded her Majesty the deepest
satisfaction. The determination of the Queen and Prince Albert to cross
over to France appears to have been unknown to the English Ministers
until shortly before the time of starting. There were, of course, some
rumours of such an intention; but even in the highest quarters they were
disbelieved. In his “Journal,” published in 1857, Mr. Raikes asserts
that the whole affair “was a wily intrigue, managed by Louis Philippe
through the intervention of his daughter, the Queen of the Belgians,
during her frequent visits to Windsor with King Leopold, and was hailed
by him with extreme joy, as the first admission of the King of the
Barricades within the pale of legitimate sovereigns.” The Duke of
Wellington observed to Mr. Raikes, “I was never let into the secret, nor
did I believe the report then in circulation, till at last they sent to
consult my opinion as to forming a Regency during the Queen’s absence. I
immediately referred to precedents as the only proper guide. I told them
that George I., George II. (George III. never went abroad), and George
IV., had all been obliged to appoint Councils of Regency; that Henry
VIII., when he met Francis I. at Ardres, was then master of Calais, as
also when he met Charles V. at Gravelines; so that, in these instances,
Calais being a part of his dominions, he hardly did more than pass his
frontier--not much more than going from one county to the next. Upon
this I decided that the Queen could not quit this country without an Act
of Regency. But she consulted the Crown lawyers, who decided that it was
not necessary.” In days like our own, when the Government of the country
is substantially conducted by the Queen’s responsible Ministers, a
Council of Regency, if the sovereign is to be absent only a few days,
seems entirely unnecessary. The most questionable part of the visit to
France in 1843 was the secrecy in which it was involved until shortly
before the time of departure.
The Queen’s stay in France, which lasted not more than five days,
terminated on the 7th of September. Although courtly writers give one to
understand that the only object of the Queen and Prince Albert was to
make the personal acquaintance of the French King and his family, with
whom they had long maintained cordial relations through the medium of
correspondence, it is evident that at least one matter of politics was
discussed between the two sovereigns and their Ministers. Louis Philippe
was known to entertain a design to marry one of his sons to the Queen of
Spain, or to a Spanish Princess, in the hope of renewing that connection
between the two countries which has long been an alluring dream of
French diplomacy. The project was regarded in England with
[Illustration: THE QUEEN’S VISIT TO FRANCE. (_See p. 143._)]
the utmost disfavour, and somewhat strained relations had ensued. On her
visit to France, the Queen was accompanied by her Foreign Minister, the
Earl of Aberdeen, and the matter was talked over by her Majesty, Prince
Albert, and Lord Aberdeen, on the one hand, and the French monarch and
M. Guizot on the other. In a letter to Baron Stockmar, written shortly
after the return to England, Prince Albert states:--“Little passed of a
political nature, except
[Illustration: THE EARL OF ABERDEEN.]
the declaration of Louis Philippe to Aberdeen that he would not give his
son to Spain, even if he were asked; and Aberdeen’s answer, that,
excepting one of his sons, any aspirant whom Spain might choose would be
acceptable to England.” We know now that the French King’s promise was
shamefully broken a few years later; but there was no reason at the time
to disbelieve his word. England was not unnaturally disquieted by the
prospect of an alliance between France and Spain; France, with equal
reason, objected to the Queen of Spain marrying a Prince of the House of
Coburg, which was the idea favoured by the English Court. Accordingly, a
compromise was arranged by Lord Aberdeen and M. Guizot, when it was
settled that the French King should renounce all pretensions on the
part of any of his sons to the hand of the Queen of Spain; that the
sovereign of that country should choose her husband from the descendants
of Philip V., so as equally to exclude the Coburgs; and that, as
regarded the contemplated marriage of the Duc de Montpensier, youngest
son of Louis Philippe, with the Infanta Donna Maria Louisa, sister of
the Queen of Spain, no such union should take place till the Queen was
married, and had had children; in consideration of which promise, the
Queen of England waived all objections to the marriage of Montpensier.
The whole transaction seems to have been rather irregular; for
negotiations of this nature are generally conducted between Cabinet and
Cabinet, acting, of course, through their respective Foreign Ministers.
In the present instance, however, the Queen’s visit was kept secret as
long as possible, and the negotiation was then settled by Lord Aberdeen
and M. Guizot quietly talking it over in a French château. The English
visitors seem to have been effectually blinded and lulled to sleep by
the wily courtesies of the French monarch; and we have the authority of
Prince Albert that Lord Aberdeen was “thoroughly satisfied with
everything, and made himself much liked.” A few years later, he made
himself “much liked” in Russia, with which country we were about to go
to war on questions of gravity and moment. But for the present no one
perceived how cleverly we had been tricked, and Lord Brougham wrote
effusively to Prince Albert about “the admirable effects produced by the
late excursion to France, and the sure tendency of this wise measure to
create the best feelings between the two nations.” The Prince himself
believed that such would be the case; yet, the very next year, a war
between France and England became imminent.
On returning from France, her Majesty and the Prince made a short stay
at Brighton, and then started for Belgium on a visit to King Leopold.
Leaving Brighton in the Royal yacht on the 12th of September, they
arrived at Ostend on the 13th, and, after a six days’ tour in Belgium,
during which Bruges, Ghent, Brussels, and Antwerp were visited, returned
to Windsor Castle on the 21st of September. “The old cities of
Flanders,” writes Prince Albert to Baron Stockmar, “had put on their
fairest array, and were very tastefully decorated with tapestries,
flowers, trees, pictures, &c., which, combined with the numerous old
monuments, churches, and convents, and the gay crowds of people,
produced a most peculiar effect. Victoria was greatly interested and
impressed; and the cordiality and friendliness which met us everywhere
could not fail to attract her towards the Belgian people.” The travels
of the Royal couple were now over for a time, and on the 25th of October
Prince Albert accompanied the Queen to Cambridge, where his Royal
Highness received the degree of Doctor of Civil Law. Both were greeted
with marked cordiality, and the Queen afterwards wrote with much
satisfaction of the enthusiasm shown by all classes at that famous
University, and particularly by the undergraduates. In a letter dated
the 4th of November, Professor Sedgwick gave a lively account of the
visit paid by the Royal party to the Woodwardian Museum. “The Queen,” he
said,
[Illustration: PRINCE ALBERT HUNTING NEAR BELVOIR CASTLE.]
“seemed happy and well pleased, and was mightily taken with one or two
of my monsters, especially with the Plesiosaurus and gigantic stag. The
subject was new to her; but the Prince evidently had a good general
knowledge of the old world, and not only asked good questions, and
listened with great courtesy to all I had to say, but in one or two
instances helped me on by pointing to the rare things in my collection,
especially in that part of it which contains the German fossils. I
thought myself very fortunate in being able to exhibit the finest
collection of German fossils to be seen in England. They fairly went the
round of the Museum; neither of them seemed in a hurry, and the Queen
was quite happy to hear her husband talk about a novel subject with so
much knowledge and spirit. He called her back once or twice to look at a
fine impression of a dragon-fly which I have in the Solenhofen slate.
Having glanced at the long succession of our fossils, from the youngest
to the oldest, the party again moved into the lecture-room.” The visit
to Cambridge lasted only three days, and on the 28th of October the
Royal party were back at Windsor.
In the latter days of November, the Queen and Prince Albert visited Sir
Robert Peel at Drayton Manor, the country seat of that statesman. While
staying here, the Prince made a visit to Birmingham on the 20th of the
month. Owing to the turbulent character of that town, where the
principles of Chartism were in the ascendant, and riots had occurred but
recently, Sir James Graham and some members of the Government considered
it imprudent for his Royal Highness to venture into such a vortex of
extravagant opinions. The Prince, however, was not unaware that his
greatest enemies were to be found rather in the upper and official
circles than among the populace; and he therefore did not fear throwing
himself upon the hospitality of the Birmingham people. “The Mayor, who
accompanied the Prince in the carriage,” wrote Mr. Anson on the same
day, “is said to be a Chartist, and to hold extreme views. He said that
the visit had created the greatest enthusiasm;--that it had brought into
unison and harmony opposite political parties, who had shown the deepest
hatred towards each other; and that it had been productive of the
happiest results in Birmingham. He also said he would vouch for the
devoted loyalty of the whole Chartist body. The Queen had not more loyal
subjects in her dominions.” From Drayton Manor, the Royal party
proceeded to Chatsworth, the seat of the Duke of Devonshire, and
afterwards to Belvoir Castle, belonging to the Duke of Rutland. In the
Belvoir neighbourhood, the Prince distinguished himself in the
hunting-field, though he had no great inclination for that kind of
sport. It had been thought that his Royal Highness, as a scholar, and a
man much given to retirement, was scarcely possessed of sufficient
spirit to face the perils of the chase. He had therefore fallen a good
deal in the estimation of men who consider that the larger part of human
virtue is comprised in the ability to preserve a good seat on horseback,
and to clear a five-barred gate with complete indifference as to what
may be on the other side. His performances in the vicinity of Belvoir
Castle completely re-established him in the estimation of these
persons, and, as Baron Stockmar afterwards observed, such a reputation
was not without practical value while fox-hunting continued to be an
English national pursuit. The Prince rode boldly and well, and, while
some others were thrown, kept his saddle to the last.
One of the favourite studies of Prince Albert was that of agriculture--a
science which he found in a very backward state in England, and which he
did much to improve. The growing of crops and the rearing of live stock
engaged
[Illustration: CHATSWORTH HOUSE, FROM THE SOUTH-WEST.]
much of his attention, and he established a model farm in Windsor Park,
which showed how much may be effected by intelligent supervision, and a
systematic application of those scientific principles which modern times
have placed at the disposal of enterprising men. At the chief
agricultural shows, his name soon became familiar as a constant and
often successful exhibitor, and nothing gave him greater pleasure than
any notable achievement in this field of human industry. Speaking of the
model works in Windsor Park, a contemporary writer observed that “the
most practical man could not go that pleasant round, from the Flemish
farm to the Norfolk, and so back again by the Home and the Dairy,
without learning something wherever he went.” The farm at Windsor was
established about the end of 1840, and the Prince always took the
greatest interest in the working of his establishment. On the 30th of
October, 1843, he wrote to Baron Stockmar that the prices of cattle were
up again, and that he had netted a very good return from his auction in
the Park. Since the death
[Illustration: LORD GOUGH. (_After the Portrait by Sir Francis Grant,
P.R.A._)]
of his Royal Highness, the farm has been continued with equal zeal by
the Queen; and the Prince of Wales has also shown an intelligent
interest in pursuits and experiments calculated to raise in no slight
degree the productive powers of our country.
While the Queen was gaining a more extended knowledge of her home
dominions, and Prince Albert was interesting himself in many departments
of science and art, some events were passing in India, to which brief
reference should be made. During the Afghan war of 1838-9, the
Anglo-Indian Government intimated its intention to take temporary
possession of Shikarpoor, in Scinde, an independent State in the
north-west of the Peninsula. The Ameers of Hyderabad and Mizpoor
thereupon assented to a treaty which placed them under the control of
Calcutta; but the people themselves never agreed to this sacrifice, and
the British Residency at Hyderabad was attacked in the early part of
1843. Hereupon, the British envoy, Sir Charles James Napier, marched a
large military force against the malcontents, routed them at Meeanee on
the 17th of February, and, by a further victory on March 24th, completed
the subjugation of Scinde. During the next two years, the country
continued in a state of extreme agitation, owing to the depredations of
certain marauding tribes in the west; but these brigands were hunted
down, and at length entirely extirpated, by the conqueror of Scinde,
whose unresting energy and fiery resolution procured from him, from his
half-admiring adversaries, the title of “the Devil’s Brother.” The
administration of the province has greatly improved since then; but it
may be questioned whether its annexation was not an act of high-handed
power, which the concomitant circumstances were insufficient to justify.
In the latter part of the same year, another war broke out in Asia. The
State of Gwalior, situated in Central India, had been under our
protection since 1803; but the death of the native sovereign, in 1843,
produced a degree of anarchy which led to the interposition of the
British Government. Lord Ellenborough made a public announcement that he
could “neither permit the existence of an unfriendly Government with the
territories of Scindia” (the reigning family in that part of Hindostan),
“nor that those territories should be without a Government capable of
coercing its own subjects.” This was on the 20th of December; on the
29th, the army of Gwalior, under the command of Sir Hugh Gough,
Commander-in-Chief, and in presence of the Governor-General, defeated
the native forces at Maharajpoor. On the same day, the left wing of the
army, under Major-General Grey, defeated the enemy at Punniar; and the
strong fort of Gwalior, sometimes called “the Gibraltar of the East,”
was taken by our soldiers. By a treaty concluded in January, 1844, the
native dynasty was permitted to retain 9,000 troops of its own, in
addition to a large contingent under British authority; and Gwalior
still preserves a certain amount of independence, though strictly under
the supervision of the Anglo-Indian Government.
CHAPTER IX.
IRELAND, RUSSIA, AND FRANCE.
O’Connell and the Agitation for Repeal of the Union--Early Life of
the Agitator--Character of his Oratory--Question as to the Purity
of his Motives--The “Repeal Year” (1843)--Methods by which
O’Connell worked on Irish Opinion--Open-air Gatherings on the
Repeal Question--Extravagant Speeches of O’Connell--Crowning of the
Liberator on the Hill of Tara--Prohibition of a proposed Meeting at
Clontarf--Arrest of the Chief Agitators--Trial, Condemnation, and
Sentences--The Convictions annulled by the House of Lords--Release
of O’Connell, and Final Years of his Life--Effect of the
Prosecution on the Government of Sir Robert Peel--Death of Prince
Albert’s Father--Visit of the Prince to Saxe-Coburg-Gotha--His
Presents to the Queen on her Birthday (1844)--Visits of the King of
Saxony and the Emperor of Russia to England--Appearance and Manners
of the Emperor--Political Objects of Nicholas in Visiting
London--His Designs on Turkey--Memorandum of Agreement between the
Czar and the English Government--Jealousy on the Part of the
French--Ministerial Crisis in the Summer of 1844--Sir James Graham
and the Opening of Letters at the Post Office--Disagreement with
France with Respect to the Island of Tahiti--The Pritchard
Affair--Queen Pomare and Queen Victoria--Anxieties of the English
Court as to the Maintenance of Peace--The Ashburton Treaty with the
United States.
Ireland, always more or less disturbed, was excited nearly to the point
of rebellion in 1843, owing to an agitation for the Repeal of the Union
which had been originated by Daniel O’Connell, one of the most
remarkable men of that epoch. O’Connell belonged to a good but
impoverished family in Kerry, and was brought up as a lawyer. But Nature
had designed him for little else than a political agitator, and the
demand for Roman Catholic Emancipation, which began to acquire force in
the early part of the present century, drew him into the whirlpool of
public life. Whatever his faults and errors, he was unquestionably a
devoted son of the Church to which he and his family belonged; and the
Romanists of this realm suffered at that time from many unjust
disabilities. In a few years he became the leader of the movement; and
when the Act of 1829 was passed, O’Connell was regarded by the great
mass of the Irish people as a hero who could always lead them to
victory. When a very young man, he was opposed to the union of the
English and Irish Legislatures, and in 1841 he renewed an earlier
agitation in favour of repealing that arrangement. As long as the Whigs
were in power, or nearly so, O’Connell kept the national excitement
within reasonable bounds; for he hoped to extort a good deal from a
party which depended on extraneous support, and he was prepared to take
less than his full demand, in the belief that an instalment in one year
would prepare the way for complete payment in another. But, when it
became evident that Sir Robert Peel would soon be Prime Minister, it was
considered that nothing could be obtained except by means of an
agitation carried to the extreme verge of legality, and apparently, if
not really, threatening to pass beyond it.
The aims of O’Connell were far more national than political. He was
studying in France when the great Revolution broke out, and its horrors
made such an impression on his mind that he returned to his own country
“half a Tory at heart.” His views were never what might be called
Radical or democratic--though in many respects liberal; but he was a
consummate demagogue--that is to say, a man gifted with a marvellous
capacity of exciting, swaying, and controlling the mobs which were at
once the sources and the subjects of his power. To these results, his
commanding figure, expressive countenance, and splendid voice,
contributed not a little. It may be doubted if there has ever been so
accomplished an agitator in the modern world: those of the ancient
republics spoke to much smaller audiences. One secret of his success (so
far as he can be said to have succeeded) lay in the complete harmony
which existed between himself and the majority of the Irish people. His
face declared him to be an unmixed Celt, of the Hibernian variety; and
not merely his face, but every throb of his nature. Passionate,
impulsive, violent in thought and in expression, boastful, wayward,
pathetic, and humorous, he drew from all these qualities a species of
eloquence peculiarly suited to the audiences he addressed. In the open
air, on a bleak hill-side, he would bring together thousands of
half-barbarian peasantry, and play upon them, as a master plays upon an
instrument. He had the almost unparalleled gift of stimulating his
hearers to the very brink of some mad outbreak, and of restraining them
at the last moment. It must be recorded to the credit of O’Connell that
he always repudiated and condemned the resort to physical force, and
that he did actually avoid it. Yet the turmoil he created was almost as
distracting as civil war, and the gigantic failure of the Repeal
movement was written in gloomy characters all over Ireland.
O’Connell had sat in the Imperial Parliament since 1829; and even in the
House of Commons his fervid and headlong eloquence was often most
impressive. But his greatest triumphs belonged, doubtless, to what may
be called the platform order of oratory. The champion of Repeal had an
unexampled command over the vocabulary of abuse; though it must be
admitted that some of his opponents were not far behind in this
effective accomplishment. Not only was O’Connell in the habit of
referring, in general terms, to “the base, brutal, and bloody Saxon” (by
whom, it may be necessary to explain, he meant the English people), but
he attacked particular individuals with a ferocity of invective which
was frequently more ludicrous than terrible. Unquestionably he had some
of the characteristics of a great orator; yet his style was often
tawdry, and his sentiment overwrought. Partly, perhaps, by virtue of
these very characteristics, he acquired such an influence over the Roman
Catholic Irish that there were but few things they would not have done,
or abstained from doing, at a word from him. How far he was an honest
man, is a subject which has been much disputed. It seems impossible to
doubt that he loved his country, however imprudently; but it is also
very difficult not to believe that he loved himself quite as much. In
order to carry on his agitation, he called for the formation of a fund
which came to be termed the Repeal Rent, and which was derived almost
entirely from the weekly contributions of the poverty-stricken cotters
of Ireland. These payments went into the hands of the Liberator, as
O’Connell was fondly called; and it was asserted by many that the larger
part was expended by him on his own gratifications. His advocates
defend him in this respect by saying that he gave up a magnificent
practice at the bar for the sake of conducting the Repeal movement, and
that therefore he had a moral claim to some other source of income. But
this is surely making patriotism easy, and even pleasant, after a
fashion never before dreamt of by patriots of exalted character. It
would appear also that in some instances O’Connell wrung their
contributions from
[Illustration: DANIEL O’CONNELL.]
the peasantry by absolute coercion, and that his ordinary dealings with
his own tenants were particularly bad, since he acted as a “Middleman,”
who appropriated three times as much rent as he paid to the
head-landlord.[16] It is no answer to such statements to say that
O’Connell died poor, for the Repeal Rent--long the chief source of his
income--had dwindled to nothing for some few years before his death.
At the beginning of 1843, the Liberator declared that that year was and
should be “the Repeal Year.” He had for several months been endeavouring
to strike a blow at British commerce by directing his followers to
refuse all articles of British manufacture, and by setting an example in
the garments which he himself wore. But this had very little effect; for
the poor, who form the majority in Ireland, could not afford to indulge
their national antipathies at the cost of higher-priced and probably
inferior goods. It was therefore necessary to hold open-air meetings on
a gigantic scale and in quick succession, though in 1843 the
arch-agitator was about sixty-eight years of age. O’Connell not
unfrequently touched on the land question which has given so much
trouble in more recent times, and flattered Irish agriculturists with
the hope of obtaining farms at no great sacrifice on their own parts.
But the main object of his life, after the achievement of Roman Catholic
Emancipation, was the passing of a measure for Repeal. The methods he
pursued were sometimes not a little puzzling to English minds. While
using language towards the British Parliament and the British people
which looked like an indirect incentive to rebellion, notwithstanding
its saving clauses, O’Connell would pour out the most flattering homage
to the Queen; even prophesying that the time would come when her Majesty
would gladly fly from her Tory enemies, and seek refuge among her
faithful Irish--with a view, it would seem to have been implied, of
ruling England from Ireland. All this nonsense pleased those who
listened to it; but it was only so much byplay. The real agitation was
far more serious; at one time it looked formidable. From the spring to
the autumn of 1843, numerous meetings (generally on Sunday, that more
might attend) were held in various parts of Ireland, at the bidding of
O’Connell, and with the sanction of the priesthood of all grades. They
were attended by enormous numbers, several of whom had marched, in a
semi-military fashion, many miles from their homes. It is said that at
some of these gatherings no fewer than a quarter of a million persons
were present; and it was remarked as singular that, during the
agitation, crime became almost extinct. This was partly due to the
sweet, persuasive exhortations of the Apostle of Temperance, Father
Mathew, who had recently produced a most remarkable effect in checking
drunkenness in Ireland, and causing many thousands to take the pledge of
total abstinence. But it must in some degree be ascribed to the fact
that the minds of the humbler classes were occupied by serious thoughts
of a political character, and influenced by an excitement which left
room for no other. The exultation of passion had for a time superseded
the insane fury of the whisky-bottle.
At the open-air meetings, the speeches of O’Connell were characterised
by his most effective style of popular oratory. The unapproachable
excellence of Ireland, the unexampled baseness and cruelty of England,
were the themes on which he principally dwelt. All the miseries of his
native land would be removed as soon as an Irish Parliament was once
more sitting on College Green. That event would be brought about in not
more than a year; and then the golden age of Ireland would begin. A good
many picturesque but rather theatrical accessories were introduced on
these occasions. Banners, showy decorations, and exciting music,
accompanied the march of the peasantry, and at an unusually large
meeting on the hill of Tara--a spot where the ancient kings of Ireland
used to be elected--O’Connell himself was crowned with a species of
semi-regal cap. This was on the 15th of August: on the 8th of October,
an immense meeting was to be held at Clontarf, three miles from Dublin.
But the Government now thought that matters were proceeding to a
dangerous length. They had already passed an Arms Act for Ireland, by
which great restrictions were laid on the possession of deadly weapons;
they had concentrated large bodies of troops in the disaffected country;
and, by a proclamation issued on the 7th of October, they forbade the
contemplated assemblage. It was certainly a wise resolution. In spite of
his repeated declarations that nothing was to be done of an illegal
nature, O’Connell had of late used several expressions well calculated
to stir up an excitable people like the Irish to rebellion and civil
war. There was unquestionably no slight danger of an outbreak, and it
was high time for the “base, brutal, and bloody Saxon” to show that his
patience had a limit.
Had the meeting been held, it is not improbable that a collision would
have taken place between the populace and the soldiery. O’Connell,
however, at once issued a proclamation of his own, declaring that the
orders of the Lord Lieutenant must be obeyed, and that the people must
return to their homes. Why the meeting was not forbidden by the
Government until the very day before it was to be held, is a State
secret which has never been explained. The people were already coming in
from all the country round, and, as a large military force was massed
together on the spot, it is wonderful that a sanguinary combat did not
ensue. Some members of the Repeal Association stationed themselves on
the roads approaching Clontarf to turn back as many as they could; but
several arrived on the early morning of the 8th, and speedily found
themselves between close lines of troops. The mandate of the Liberator,
however, was obeyed with marvellous alacrity, and the meeting (such as
it was) dispersed without any untoward event. The Government had at
length done what it ought to have done before; and it was now resolved
to take a further step--namely, to prosecute the chief agitator and his
colleagues. O’Connell, his son, and eight others, were arrested on
charges of conspiracy, sedition, and unlawful assembling. Nothing could
exceed the dismay of the Liberator at the prospect which now opened
before him. He issued addresses to the people, passionately exhorting
them to observe the utmost forbearance and moderation, and seemed to
consider that his pacific words would utterly obliterate the effect of
the inflammatory language he had used only a few weeks before. In point
of fact, they nearly obliterated himself. The Repeal Association broke
up into two camps. One, consisting of the older members, clung to their
accustomed leader; the other, composed of all the youthful and fiery
spirits, formed a new combination, which was afterwards known as that of
“Young Ireland,” and which openly declared its intention to rebel at the
very earliest opportunity.
The proceedings against O’Connell and his associates commenced formally
on the 2nd of November, 1843, in the Dublin Court of Queen’s Bench; but
the actual trial did not begin until the 16th of January, 1844. Owing,
it would seem, to some error, the jury consisted entirely of
Protestants, who, as a rule, were not likely to have much regard for the
author of Roman Catholic Emancipation; but whether this circumstance,
however unfortunate and objectionable, had any real effect upon the
verdict, it would be somewhat dangerous to pronounce. The trial did not
terminate until the 12th of February, nor was
[Illustration: THE FOUR COURTS, DUBLIN.]
sentence passed before the 30th of May, 1844. With one exception, all
the prisoners were found guilty, and sentences of varying severity were
pronounced. O’Connell was condemned to one year’s imprisonment, to pay a
fine of £2,000, and to enter into security and recognisances, in the sum
of £5,000, for his good behaviour during a term of seven years. The
others were sentenced to nine months’ imprisonment, together with a fine
of £50, and were ordered to find securities for the same period as their
leader, in the sum of £1,000. They were removed to the Richmond
Penitentiary at Dublin. The Liberator issued a proclamation to the Irish
people, commanding them to keep perfectly quiet; but at the same time he
transmitted a writ of error to London, in order that the legality of the
sentence might be reconsidered. The Lords, to whom the appeal was made,
referred the matter to the twelve Judges; the Judges were not agreed as
to the technical points involved; and the question went back again to
the Lords. The decision now rested with four Law Lords, three of
whom--Lords
[Illustration: OLD PARLIAMENT HOUSE, DUBLIN.]
Denman, Cottenham, and Campbell--voted that the judgment of the Irish
Court should be reversed. The only dissentient was Lord Brougham; but
his single vote was, of course, inoperative. O’Connell, therefore, had
gained a legal triumph, and he was released from prison in the midst of
a popular ovation. The decision of the Lords was pronounced on the 4th
of September, by which time, O’Connell and his friends had already
undergone a considerable portion of their imprisonment. They had been
treated with great leniency, however, and O’Connell was allowed to see
his admirers in jail to an extent which appears to have positively
injured his health. Certain it is that he was never again the vigorous
man he had been; but this result was probably owing in a much greater
degree to disappointment, and humiliation of spirit. His power had
passed away from him. Younger and more energetic men were taking his
place; the English Government had shown its power to handle the agitator
firmly; age was creeping upon him; and he did little more during the
remainder of his days. In the latter part of 1846, his health and
spirits were so completely broke that he could not endure any allusions
to his beloved Ireland and her future. Early in 1847, he commenced a
journey to Rome, where he desired to close his career in the very bosom
of the Church to which he had always been attached. His mind was
tortured by many painful memories, for in his earlier years his life had
been open to reproach in more ways than one. An overmastering dread of
death now came upon him, and one of his last fears was that he should be
buried alive. His earnest desire to reach the Eternal City was denied
him. He could get no farther than Genoa; and there he expired on the
15th of May, 1847, leaving behind him a great, but on the whole not a
happy, reputation.
It was feared by many persons in England that the trial and conviction
of O’Connell would raise such a tumult amongst the Irish party in the
Legislature, and their Liberal allies, as to endanger the existence of
the Government. This proved not to be the fact; but it was certainly a
reasonable forecast, and it was the view formed by Baron Stockmar, who
from his German home watched with interest the progress of events in
England and Ireland. In a letter to Prince Albert, dated November 27th,
1843, he says:--“It is an old principle with me, to form no judgments at
a distance upon matters which lie far away from my sphere of
observation. Consequently, I can only express mere feelings in so far as
personal matters are concerned. The news of the O’Connell trial took me
by surprise, and threw me into an uneasy state of mind, that set me
thinking, not so much what might ensue from a favourable or unfavourable
issue to the prosecution, as what the Ministry are to do with their
victory, supposing them to get one. To my thinking, victory is likely to
prove more dangerous than failure; and apprehensions seized me, which I
still entertain, that this trial may very possibly lead to a speedy
termination of the Peel Ministry.” Not only was this anticipation
falsified, but the Government gained in strength from its virtual
triumph over O’Connell. Measures of a really beneficial character to
Ireland were passed about this period, and for a time the disaffection
of the country underwent considerable abatement.
In the early part of 1844, a great affliction fell upon Prince Albert.
His father died on the 29th of January, and, although such an event had
been anticipated for some time past, the shock was none the less on that
account. The grief of the Queen was almost equal to the Prince’s own,
and a deep gloom settled down upon the Royal circle. On the 4th of
February, Prince Albert wrote to Baron Stockmar:--“God will give us all
strength to bear the blow becomingly. That we were separated gives it a
peculiar poignancy. Not to see him, not to be present to close his eyes,
not to help to comfort those he leaves behind, and to be comforted by
them, is very hard. Here we sit together, poor Mamma, Victorie, and
myself, and weep, with a great, cold public around us, insensible as
stone. To have some true, sympathetic friend at hand would be a great
solace. Come to us in this time of trouble, if come you can.... The
world is assuredly not our true happiness; and, alas! every day’s
experience forces me to see how wicked men are. Every imaginable calumny
is heaped upon us, especially upon me; and although a pure nature,
conscious of its own high purposes, is and ought to be lifted above
attacks, still it is painful to be misrepresented by people of whom one
believed better things.” On the 28th of March, the Prince left England
for his father’s small dominions, in order to assist his brother Ernest
in commencing his duties as the reigning Duke. It was the first time
that he and the Queen had ever been parted since their marriage, and
both felt the separation acutely. Two days before the Prince’s
departure, the Queen of the Belgians reached Buckingham Palace, to spend
a brief time with the English sovereign during the period of her
solitude; and King Leopold himself arrived a few days later. On the 11th
of April, the Prince was back again at Windsor. He records in his diary
that he arrived at six o’clock in the evening, in the midst of “great
joy.”
The Queen’s birthday was approaching even before the Prince left
England; and the latter had already given orders for the preparation of
two gifts to her Majesty, which he knew would be very acceptable. On the
5th of March, Prince Albert asked Mr. Eastlake, the painter, if he could
execute by the 24th of May a little picture of angels, such as he had
introduced into his fresco in the pavilion of Buckingham Palace Gardens.
He promised to do the picture by the time mentioned, although he was
already at work on one for her Majesty. The other present was a
miniature portrait of the Prince himself, by Thorburn, taken in armour,
in accordance with a wish frequently expressed by the Queen. The
portrait is a full-length, and is said by her Majesty to give the
Prince’s real expression more than anything that she knew. “During the
fatal illness, and on the last morning of his life,” she writes on the
20th of December, 1873, “he was wonderfully like this picture.” The
lower part of the face was done in half an hour, and the whole character
and aspect are extremely noble. The two pictures were presented to the
Queen on her birthday, at Claremont, where the Royal couple were
staying.
The King of Saxony was at this time expected at Buckingham Palace, and
he arrived there on the 1st of June. Only two days before, her Majesty
and the Prince had been somewhat surprised at hearing that the Emperor
of Russia was on his way to visit the English Court, and that he might
be looked for at almost any moment. He reached London on the night of
June 1st, and remained until the following morning at the Russian
Embassy. Next day, he was brought by Prince Albert to Buckingham Palace,
where he became the guest of her Majesty, though he again went to the
Embassy at night, having resolved for the present not to occupy the
apartments prepared for him at the Palace. On the 3rd of June, he was
escorted by Prince Albert from the Slough Station to Windsor Castle,
whither the Court had now removed.
The habits of this Northern potentate were in some respects remarkably
simple and austere. All through his life, he slept on a leathern sack,
stuffed with hay or straw. The sack thus filled was stretched upon a
camp-bed, and the Emperor never intermitted this custom, even when on a
visit to foreign Courts. He produced a very marked impression on the
Queen and Prince Albert, and the former, writing to her uncle, the King
of the Belgians, on the 4th of June, observes of the Emperor:--“He is
certainly a very striking man, still very handsome; his profile is
beautiful, and his manners most dignified and graceful; extremely civil,
quite alarmingly so, as he is so full of attention and _politesse_. But
the expression of the eyes is severe, and unlike anything I ever saw
before. He gives Albert and myself the impression of a man who is not
happy, and on whom the burden of his immense power and position weighs
heavily and painfully. He seldom smiles, and, when he does, the
expression is not a happy one. He is very easy to get on with.” Lady
Lyttelton says in one of her letters:--“The only fault in his face is
that he has pale eyelashes, and his enormous and very brilliant eyes
have no shade; besides which, they have the awful look given by
occasional glimpses of white above the eyeball, which comes from his
father Paul, I suppose, and gives a savage wildness, for a moment,
pretty often.”
He and the King of Saxony were delighted with Windsor, and the Emperor
said that the English Court was conducted on the noblest scale of any
Court he had ever seen, everything being done without effort, and as if
it were the ordinary condition of affairs. The Autocrat of the Russias
abounded in gallant speeches to the British sovereign, and pleased her
much by his high praises of Prince Albert. Her Majesty was at first a
good deal opposed to the visit, seeming to entertain some vague feelings
of apprehension on political grounds; but, after a few days, she
conceived a sentiment of friendship for him, and in writing to King
Leopold expressed her conviction that he was truthful and sincere. She
did not regard him as very clever, and she saw that his mind was far
from cultivated. The arts, which were so dear to her own husband, he
regarded with entire want of interest, and confined his attention solely
to politics and military affairs. He showed much alarm about the
condition of the East, and professed the greatest anxiety to be on good
terms with this country. Speaking of sovereign rulers to her Majesty, he
made use of an expression which was very remarkable as coming from him;
being to the effect that in modern times all princes should strive to
make themselves worthy of their position, so as to reconcile people to
the fact of their being princes. This does not seem much in accordance
with the ideas or practices of the Czar Nicholas; but his discernment
may have taught him what his position, his passions, or his habits, did
not allow him to carry out.
The Russian Emperor and the King of Saxony attended Ascot Races on the
4th of June, and witnessed a review in Windsor Park on the 5th. Every
evening, a great dinner was served in the Waterloo Room at Windsor
Castle.
[Illustration: THE EMPEROR NICHOLAS.]
Visits were likewise paid to the seat of the Duke of Devonshire, at
Chiswick, and to the Opera; and the Emperor seems to have been really
much pleased by his reception. There can be no doubt that he had a
political object in coming to England. Turkey was engaging much of his
attention, as it had done in earlier years, and he was deeply desirous
of carrying out the traditional policy of Russia, as it had been
formulated from the days of Peter the Great. He saw that Turkey was in
an impoverished and weakened state, partly in consequence of his own
acts, and those of his predecessors; and he thought the time had come
when some approach should be made towards an understanding with England
as to what should be done with the Sultan’s inheritance when he could no
longer hold it for himself. With this view, he talked a good deal with
Prince Albert, Sir Robert Peel, and Lord Aberdeen. His desire to
propitiate the good opinion of the English Government and people was
most evident; but the events of later years showed but too plainly with
what objects he pursued these conciliatory efforts. The cordial
relations which had long existed between England and France were viewed
by Nicholas with great distrust and jealousy; for he feared--what, in
fact, afterwards occurred--that the two Powers might combine to restrain
his ambition in the East. He wished to break up the good feeling between
England and France, but met with no encouragement in this respect from
Sir Robert Peel. He said that he did not covet an inch of Turkish soil
for himself, but that he would not allow anybody else to have one. This,
of course, was spoken with reference to France, who had undoubtedly, a
few years before, shown a disposition to establish herself in Syria and
Egypt. Sir Robert Peel replied by answering that no Government should be
created in Egypt too powerful to close the passage across that country
to the commerce or the mails of England.
The conversation with the English Premier and Minister for Foreign
Affairs took the ultimate form of a Memorandum drawn up by Count
Nesselrode by order of the Emperor after his return to St. Petersburg.
Being transmitted to England, this document was deposited in the secret
archives of the Foreign Office, but made public some ten years later, at
the period of the Crimean War. “Russia and England,” said the
Memorandum, “are mutually penetrated with the conviction that it is for
their common interest that the Ottoman Porte should maintain itself in
the state of independence and of territorial possession which at present
constitutes that Empire, as that political combination is the one which
is most compatible with the general interest of the maintenance of
peace. Being agreed on this principle, Russia and England have an equal
interest in uniting their efforts in order to keep up the Ottoman
Empire, and to avert all the dangers which can place in jeopardy its
safety.” The Memorandum then went on to observe that the Porte had a
constant tendency to extricate itself from engagements imposed upon it
by treaties concluded with other Powers; that it hoped to do so with
impunity, because it reckoned upon the mutual jealousy of the Cabinets;
that, when coming into collision with any one of the Powers on this
account, it relied on the others to espouse its quarrel; that it was
essential not to confirm the Porte in this delusion; and that every time
it failed in its obligations towards one of the Great Powers, it was the
interest of all the rest to bring their influence to bear upon the
offender. “The object for which Russia and England will have to come to
an understanding,” the Memorandum went on to say, “may be expressed in
the following manner:--(1) To seek to maintain the existence of the
Ottoman Empire in its present state, so long as that political
combination shall be possible. (2) If we foresee that it must crumble to
pieces, to enter into previous concert as to everything relating to the
establishment of a new order of things, intended to replace that which
now exists, and, in conjunction with each other, to see that the change
which may have occurred in the internal situation of that Empire shall
not injuriously affect either the security of their own States, and the
rights which the treaties assure to them respectively, or the
maintenance of the balance of power in Europe.” The Emperor declared
that Russia and Austria were agreed as to this policy, and that, if
England, as the principal maritime Power, would act in concert with
them, France would in all probability be obliged to follow the same
course, and thus the peace of Europe would be maintained. The fixed
intention of Russia, to take the earliest opportunity of making a
combined attack upon Turkey, is glaringly apparent throughout this
document; and it is little to the credit of Sir Robert Peel and Lord
Aberdeen that they should have given any sanction whatever to such a
project. The Memorandum of 1844 enabled the Russian Emperor, in 1854, to
allege a common understanding with England, in defence of his designs
against Turkey. The Earl of Aberdeen was probably the moving spirit in
the matter, so far as Great Britain was concerned; and it is one of many
proofs that that Minister had far too kindly a regard for the interests
of the Northern Power.
Nicholas quitted London on the 9th of June, after producing a very good
impression on the ladies and gentlemen of the Court by his magnificent
presents of jewels to the former, and, as regarded the latter, by the
gift of a very valuable cup, to be annually run for at Ascot, which he
had visited twice during his brief stay. Whether he produced an equally
good impression on the mass of the English people, is a very doubtful
matter. It was said at the time that he was hissed on one occasion, when
driving out with the Queen; and it is probable that such was the fact.
He was disliked as a despot; his conduct towards Poland was viewed with
detestation; and that he had designs on India, was suspected and
believed by many. But his reception at the English Court was
sufficiently warm to create a feeling of irritation on the part of the
French, who inferred--not altogether without reason--that some secret
arrangement had been made to the prejudice of their interests. It was
feared for a time that this sentiment would have the effect of setting
aside a visit to England which had been contemplated by Louis Philippe
since the visit of the Queen and Prince Albert to that monarch in the
previous year. Alluding to the fear that this compliment might not be
paid, in consequence of what had happened with the Emperor, her Majesty,
in writing to King Leopold, says:--“I hope that you will persuade the
King (Louis Philippe) to come all the same in September. Our motives and
politics are, _not_ to be exclusive, but to be on good terms with
all--and why should we not? We make no secret of it.” The King of Saxony
left England on the 19th of June, and the Court now returned to its
usual and somewhat quiet routine.
Parliament had been opened by the Queen in person on the 1st of
February, and all had gone on fairly well for some months. The financial
policy of Sir Robert Peel had led to admirable results, and at the close
of the year ending the 5th of April, 1844, the Chancellor of the
Exchequer announced a surplus of £4,165,000, which, after deducting
what was required to pay off the deficiency of the previous year, left a
balance of £1,400,000. It might have been supposed that all political
parties would have been equally pleased with so fortunate a condition;
but many amongst the supporters of Sir Robert Peel himself were
dissatisfied with what had been done, because it was effected in despite
of their own Protectionist views. On the 14th of June, accordingly, they
voted in force against the resolutions proposed by the Government upon
the Sugar Duties. An amendment to those resolutions was brought forward,
and, on a division,
[Illustration: CATHEDRAL OF ST. ISAAC, ST. PETERSBURG.]
Ministers found themselves in a minority of twenty in a House of 462.
The Premier and his principal colleagues were disposed to resign at
once; but at a large meeting of Conservatives, held on the 17th of June,
so much confidence in the Government was expressed, that Peel hesitated
in his intention, and, on the evening of the same day, a vote in
Committee reversed the decision of the 14th. The Prime Minister had
clearly intimated that, unless such a reversal was obtained, he should
resign office; and the threat had doubtless operated on many who
delighted to embarrass the Ministry, but did not wish to see it upset.
Another disagreeable circumstance occurred at the same time. On the 14th
of June, Mr. Thomas Duncombe presented to the House of Commons a
petition from the Italian revolutionist, Signor Mazzini, and three
others, complaining that during the past month a number of their
letters, passing through the General Post Office--letters, they averred,
written for no political purpose, and containing no treasonable or
libellous matter--had been regularly detained and opened. The
circumstance led to great excitement at the time, and many not belonging
to the extreme order of politicians condemned the Home Secretary, Sir
James Graham, for the course he had adopted. Mr. Carlyle wrote to the
[Illustration: JOSEPH MAZZINI.]
_Times_, setting forth that he had known Signor Mazzini for several
years, and that he considered him “a man of genius and virtue, a man of
sterling veracity, humanity, and nobleness of mind;” moreover, that
opening a man’s letters was nearly akin to picking his pockets, and even
to still viler forms of scoundrelism. The writer, however, admitted that
letters might be opened if a Gunpowder Plot were imminent, or some
national wreck were not far off; but he would on no account sanction the
practice until those conditions had been fulfilled. Now, the plain truth
of the matter appears to have been this--that Signor Mazzini had taken
advantage of his place of refuge in England to conspire with divers
Republicans in Italy for the destruction of Austrian and Papal
despotism, in that peninsula. The intentions of these persons may have
been admirable, and certainly the annihilation of the tyrannies against
which they conspired was highly desirable, in the interests both of
Italy and the whole world. But it is not proper for any Government to
allow foreigners living under its protection to conspire against other
States with which the protecting country is at peace. Sir James Graham
had reason to believe that Mazzini was occupied in doing this very
thing, and he showed conclusively that the Secretary of State had been
invested by Parliament with the power, in certain cases, of issuing
warrants, by virtue of which letters might be opened. Some former Home
Secretaries declared that they had used this power, and the case began
to assume another aspect. A Secret Committee of the two Houses, however,
was appointed to inquire into the law and practice of opening private
letters at the Post Office. The Report of this Committee showed that the
annual average of warrants, at no time very high, had in recent years
decreased rather than augmented, and that Sir James Graham had been
particularly conscientious in the exercise of his right; and the outcry
soon died away.
Difficulties with France occurred during the year 1844, which were
doubtless aggravated by the irritable state of French opinion consequent
on the apprehension that England was intriguing with Russia against the
interests of France in the East. The island of Otaheite, or Tahiti,
situated in the South Pacific Ocean, had for the last two years been a
subject of contention between France and England. The territory was
visited by Commodore Byron in 1765, and two years later by Captain
Wallis, who called it George III. Island. It was explored by Captain
Cook in 1768 and two subsequent years. In 1799 the district of Matavai
was ceded to some English missionaries; so that, as far as European
Powers were concerned, the island seems to have belonged more to England
than to any other country. But, on the 9th of September, 1842, Queen
Pomare was compelled to put herself under the protection of France. She
soon afterwards retracted her enforced consent, and Tahiti, together
with the neighbouring islands, was then seized by Admiral Dupetit
Thouars in the name of the French King. The natives of Tahiti, as of the
Society Islands generally, had shown considerable readiness to adopt the
ways of civilisation, and the Protestant missionaries sent out by
England had effected a considerable improvement in their habits. After a
time, certain Roman Catholic missionaries made their appearance in the
island, and endeavoured to interfere with that part of the population
which had already been converted by the Protestants. Quarrels very
naturally ensued, and France interposed on behalf of her
fellow-believers. Such was the origin of the disagreements between
France and England with respect to Tahiti. Public feeling in both
countries was greatly inflamed; but the French Government, in deference
to English remonstrances, represented that they would be satisfied with
simply exercising a Protectorate over the island. The opposition in the
French Chambers characterised this concession as an act of gratuitous
humiliation for their country, and it was feared that war would ensue.
This was rendered all the more probable in the early part of 1844, when,
on the 2nd of March, a French sentinel was disarmed by the natives. The
French Commandant chose to consider the English missionary and Consul,
Mr. Pritchard, the instigator of this act, and he caused him to be at
once arrested, and thrown into prison. “His property,” wrote the
Commandant (D’Aubigny), in an excited proclamation, “shall be answerable
for all damage occasioned to our establishments by the insurgents; and
if French blood is spilt, every drop shall recoil on his head.”
Pritchard was afterwards released from prison, but expelled the island,
and, on arriving in England, created a ferment of public indignation on
the subject of his wrongs. The Government of Sir Robert Peel demanded
satisfaction of France for the gross outrage which had been committed on
a British subject; and both the King and M. Guizot were willing that
this should be done. But it is no easy matter to be simply just on such
an occasion. Every Government must take some account of the sentiment
existing amongst its population, and France just then was in a state of
fiery wrath against England. Nevertheless, the matter was arranged after
an interval of some months. On the last day of the session (September
5th) Sir Robert Peel announced that the French Ministry had agreed to
compensate Pritchard for his sufferings and losses. Queen Pomare was
allowed, as a matter of form, to enjoy the Royal dignity; but the French
were the actual masters of the island. The termination of the affair was
not altogether satisfactory, for Queen Pomare had long been our faithful
ally, and, when coerced by the French, had written a touching letter to
the English Queen, in which she said, “Do not cast me away, my friend. I
run to you for refuge, to be covered under your great shadow; the same
that afforded relief to my fathers by your fathers, who are now dead,
and whose kingdoms have descended to us, the weaker vessels.” To have
taken up the cause of Queen Pomare, however, would in all probability
have led to hostilities between England and France; and Queen Victoria,
therefore, could do nothing for the assistance of this poor barbarian.
Before the settlement of this burning question, her Majesty had, on the
6th of August, given birth to a second son at Windsor Castle. The Royal
child was afterwards christened Alfred, but is better known to the
present generation as the Duke of Edinburgh. Writing to King Leopold
shortly after her confinement, the Queen said:--“The only thing, almost,
to mar our happiness is the heavy and threatening cloud which hangs over
our relations with France, and which, I assure you, distresses and
alarms us sadly. The whole nation here are very angry.... God grant all
may come right, and I am still of good cheer; but the French keep us
constantly in hot water.” On the 27th of August her Majesty again wrote
to the Belgian sovereign:--“The impending political cloud, I hope, looks
less black and lowering. But I think it very unwise in Guizot not to
have at once discovered D’Aubigny for what you yourself call an
‘outrage,’ instead of allowing it to drag on for four weeks, and letting
our people get excited.” After the matter had been settled, the Queen
remarked that they must try to prevent such difficulties in the future;
[Illustration: THE MARBLE HALL, BUCKINGHAM PALACE.
(_From a Photograph by H. N. King._)]
but this, unfortunately, is impossible while nations are so apt to set
up a false standard of honour in the place of justice.
One of the pacific successes of the Peel Administration was the
conclusion of the Ashburton Treaty with the Government of the United
States. A good deal of mutual irritation had existed for several years,
owing to the absence of a distinct and undisputed boundary between
Canada and the State of Maine. The matter had at one time been referred
to the arbitration of the King of the Netherlands; but neither party
would accept his award. Sir Robert Peel, therefore, sent out a special
negotiator in the person of Lord Ashburton, a member of the great
commercial family of the Barings. The American representative was the
Secretary of State, Mr. Webster--a man of the highest ability, both as
an orator and a statesman; and, after much discussion, a treaty was
signed at Washington on the 9th of August, 1842. The boundary thus
established was said to give England a better military frontier than she
had
[Illustration: THE QUEEN AND THE REAPERS AT BLAIR CASTLE. (_See p.
171._)]
possessed before, and it certainly included some heights commanding the
St. Lawrence which had not been assigned to us by the King of the
Netherlands. The conclusion of this treaty was announced to Parliament
at the opening of the session of 1843, and Sir Robert Peel claimed
credit for having brought about so favourable an adjustment. This,
however, was not the view entertained by the Opposition; and Lord
Palmerston, in calling the attention of the House of Commons to the
treaty, on the 21st of March, 1843, described it as “the Ashburton
capitulation.” Undoubtedly, the larger part of the disputed territory
was handed over to the United States, and it has since been generally
considered by Englishmen that Mr. Webster demanded and obtained more
than his country was entitled to. Some other clauses of the treaty were
excellent. Provision was made for the better suppression of the slave
traffic, and it was agreed that each country should render up to the
other certain classes of criminals against whom a sufficient case should
be established by due legal process. Lord Palmerston could never
tolerate the Ashburton Treaty so far as the territorial rearrangement
was concerned. He thought it would be productive of many evil
consequences; but it was high time that a vexatious question, creating a
certain amount of ill-will, should be brought to a final settlement. The
Ashburton Treaty was perhaps the best that could be effected, and
Englishmen have long ceased to consider its details.
CHAPTER X.
DAYS OF PEACEFUL DEVELOPMENT AND PROGRESS.
Visit of the Prince of Prussia to England--Christening of Prince
Alfred at Windsor Castle--Second Visit to the Highlands in the
Autumn of 1844--Louis Philippe in England--His Reception at
Windsor--Interchange of Courtesies between English and French
Officers--Opening of the New Royal Exchange by the Queen--Letters
of her Majesty and Prince Albert on the Occasion--Scientific
Progress: the Electric Telegraph, Photography, Lord Rosse’s
Telescope, the Thames Tunnel, and Arctic Exploration--Tractarian
Difficulties in the Church--Purchase of Osborne by the
Queen--Visits of her Majesty and the Prince to Stowe and
Strathfieldsaye--Opening of Parliament by the Queen (Feb. 4th,
1845)--Financial Statement of Sir Robert Peel--Reduction and
Abolition of Duties--Acrimonious Debates on the Proposed Queen’s
Colleges in Ireland, and the Increase of the Maynooth
Grant--Retirement of Mr. Gladstone from the Ministry--Admission of
Jews to Municipal Offices--Results of Sir Robert Peel’s Financial
Policy--Economy in the Royal Household--Project for making Prince
Albert King Consort--The Chief Command of the Army.
While the Queen and Prince Albert were contemplating, in the late summer
of 1844, a second tour in Scotland, they received a visit at Windsor
from one who afterwards became illustrious on the stage of European
history, as the German Emperor. The Prince of Prussia, brother of the
reigning King, arrived at the Castle on the 31st of August, and was
described by the Queen as amiable, sensible, amusing, and frank. Her
Majesty thought he would make a steadier and safer King than his
brother, and it cannot be doubted but that his reign was actually more
successful and more distinguished. The Prince was at that time
forty-seven years of age. As a youth, he had taken part in the campaigns
against France in 1813, 1814, and 1815, and was then holding the post of
Governor of Pomerania. He was therefore, even in 1844, a man of some
experience in affairs, and he showed no little penetration in
discriminating between the adaptability of the British Constitution to
the needs of the British people as those needs were then, and its
fitness for Continental nations, where the surroundings are wholly
different. His visit to England was short, but, before he left, he
attended, in the Private Chapel at Windsor Castle, on the 6th of
September, the christening of the infant Prince, to whom were given the
names of Alfred Ernest Albert. The sponsors on this occasion were Prince
George of Cambridge, represented by his father, the Duke of Cambridge;
the Prince of Leiningen, represented by the Duke of Wellington; and
H.R.H. the Duchess of Saxe Coburg and Gotha, represented by H.R.H. the
Duchess of Kent. The scene in the chapel was very solemn, and the Queen
records its effect on her in a few heartfelt words preserved in her
Journal.
It had been the intention of her Majesty to visit Ireland in the autumn
of 1844; but the excitement in that country, consequent on the Repeal
agitation, the trial of O’Connell, and the subsequent release of the
agitator, made it imprudent for the sovereign and her consort to trust
themselves in the sister island. They accordingly fell back on another
Scottish tour, the remembrance of the earlier one having induced in both
a strong desire to repeat so agreeable an experience. The Royal party
started on the 9th of September, and sailed from Woolwich in the yacht
_Victoria and Albert_. On the 11th, they entered the Frith of Tay, and
landed at Dundee. From this place they advanced in a north-westerly
direction into the Highlands, where they took up their residence at
Blair Castle, Blair Athole, the seat of Lord Glenlyon (afterwards the
Duke of Athole), who placed his house and grounds at the disposal of her
Majesty. The road thither is exceedingly picturesque, with high hills
and deep woods, and part of it led through the Pass of Killiecrankie,
the beauty of which drew forth warm praises from Prince Albert. All
around the scenery is of the most magnificent description, and the
wildness of the prospects, the purity of the air, and the softness of
the sunshine, not only gave the deepest delight to the Royal visitors,
but had a beneficial influence on their health. They got up early in the
morning, and therefore had full enjoyment of the best part of the day.
One morning, a lady, plainly dressed, issued from the gates of Blair
Athole, and passed the Highland guard without being noticed. When it was
discovered that this lady was the Queen, a party of Highlanders turned
out as a bodyguard, but were told that their services were not required.
Her Majesty then passed on to the lodge, where Lord and Lady Glenlyon
were dwelling for the time. She was informed that his Lordship was not
yet up, and the servant was much astonished to hear who the early
visitor was. On her return the Queen lost her way, and was directed by
some reapers which path she should take to reach Blair Castle. In the
after-part of the same day her Majesty and the Prince went on an
excursion with Lord Glenlyon. Writing to the Dowager Duchess of Coburg
on the 22nd of September, Prince Albert says:--“We are all well, and
live a somewhat primitive, yet romantic, mountain life, that acts as a
tonic to the nerves, and gladdens the heart of a lover, like myself, of
field-sports and of Nature.” And the Queen says in her Diary that,
“independently of the beautiful scenery, there was a quiet, a
retirement, a wildness, a liberty, and a solitude,” about their
surroundings, which possessed an exquisite charm for both. The Royal
party left Blair Castle on the 1st of October, and were again at Windsor
on the 3rd.
Three days later the King of the French landed at Portsmouth. Many of
the French newspapers were strongly opposed to his coming, on account of
the Tahiti affair, in which it was considered by extreme politicians
that France had been injured and outwitted by England. But Louis
Philippe and M. Guizot determined that the visit should take place, as
the most likely way of restoring the good relations of the two
countries. At Portsmouth, the King was received by the naval authorities
of the place, and, before landing, the Mayor and Corporation presented
him with an address, in answer to which he said:--“I have not forgotten
the many kindnesses I have received from your countrymen during my
residence among you many years since. At that period, I was frequently
pained at the existence of differences and feuds between our countries.
I assure you, gentlemen, I shall endeavour at all times to prevent a
repetition of those feelings and that conduct, believing, as I do most
sincerely, that the happiness and prosperity of a nation depend quite as
much on the peace of those nations by which it is surrounded as on quiet
within its own dominions.” The Duke of Wellington went with Prince
Albert to receive the King on his arrival, and accompanied him to
Windsor Castle. Louis Philippe was much moved at his reception by the
Queen, and his hand shook somewhat as he alighted from his carriage. He
was the first French sovereign who had ever come on a visit to the
monarch of Great Britain; so that the occasion was a very memorable one.
It must in fairness be acknowledged that the King of the Barricades, as
he used to be called, entertained a friendly feeling towards England,
where he had spent some of his early days of exile, so that he was
sincerely desirous of preserving peace between the two dominions. He
delighted to visit all his old haunts in the neighbourhood of Twickenham
and Claremont. His conversation was very sprightly, and he recalled the
old revolutionary days when, being compelled to seek refuge in the
Grisons, under the name of Chabot, he acted as teacher in a school,
where he received twenty pence a day, and had to brush his own shoes.
Wherever he went, the reception of the French King was much more hearty
than that of the Emperor of Russia a few months before, and he was
enchanted with all he saw and heard. On the 9th of October he was
invested by her Majesty with the Order of the Garter, and on the 12th
received the Corporation of the City of London, who journeyed down to
Windsor to pay their respects. The King left England on the 13th. His
original intention was to return, as he had come, by way of Portsmouth;
but, on his arrival at that harbour on the 12th, accompanied by the
Queen and Prince Albert, the weather proved too rough for so long a
passage, and Louis Philippe therefore travelled up to London, and on the
following day crossed from Dover to Calais. The French Admiral and his
officers, who were to have conveyed the King back to Tréport, were much
vexed at being disappointed of that honour; and, as
[Illustration: RECEPTION OF LOUIS PHILIPPE AT WINDSOR CASTLE. (_See p.
172._)]
some kind of compensation, the Queen and Prince Albert breakfasted next
morning on board the frigate which had brought Louis Philippe over. Her
Majesty excited the highest enthusiasm of the French officers by
proposing and drinking the King’s health. There had in fact been much
interchange of courtesies between the French visitors and the English
officers stationed at Portsmouth; but it may be questioned whether these
mutual compliments did not sometimes a little transgress the limits of
sincerity. The Earl of Malmesbury is probably not far wrong when he
records in his Memoirs:--“The officers of the French fleet have met with
a most enthusiastic reception at Portsmouth. The English officers gave
them a ball and a dinner; healths were drunk, and speeches made, and an
immense quantity of humbug exchanged; but the French like that, so I
hope it will put them in good humour.” The worst of these receptions is,
that, although they may be sincere up to a certain point, they have a
tendency to run into extravagance, and may thus provoke a reaction at
some future date.
Before the end of the same month the Queen was engaged in a domestic
ceremony of great interest to the citizens of London, and to many others
far beyond the limits of the capital. The old Royal Exchange, the
successor to Sir Thomas Gresham’s original building, destroyed in the
Great Fire of 1666, was consumed in a conflagration which broke out on
the 10th of January, 1838. The new building--that which now stands--was
erected from the designs of Mr. William Tite, and opened by her Majesty
in person on the 28th of October, 1844. The procession left Buckingham
Palace at eleven o’clock A.M., and passed through streets gaily
decorated for the occasion. Her Majesty’s carriage was drawn by eight
cream-coloured horses, and the chief occupant wore a tiara of diamonds
and a white ermine mantle. On alighting at the Exchange, the Queen and
Prince Albert, preceded by the Lord Mayor with his Sword of State, went
over the building, and finally entered the Reading Room. Here, seated on
a throne, her Majesty received the address which had been prepared by
the City authorities, and which was read by the Recorder. Allusion was
made in it to the fact that the first building had been opened by Queen
Elizabeth, and a hope was expressed that the new edifice would endure
for ages, a memorial and monument of the commercial grandeur, the
prosperity, and the peaceful triumphs of Victoria’s reign.
After reading her reply, the Queen intimated to the Lord Mayor (Alderman
Magnay) her intention to confer on him the dignity of a baronet. A
sumptuous luncheon was afterwards served in the Underwriters’ Room, and
the proceedings of the day closed by the Queen announcing, after silence
had been enjoined by the heralds, that it was her will and pleasure that
the building should be thenceforth called “The Royal Exchange.” Her
Majesty was greatly pleased by her reception, and wrote next day to King
Leopold:--“Nothing ever went off better, and the procession there, as
well as the proceedings at the Royal Exchange, were splendid and royal
in the extreme. It was a fine and gratifying sight to see the myriads
of people assembled, more than at the Coronation even, and all in such
good humour, and so loyal.” To the same effect wrote Prince Albert to
Baron Stockmar. “Here, after four years,” he observed, “is the
recognition of the position we took up from the first. You always said
that if Monarchy was to rise in popularity, it could only be by the
sovereign leading an exemplary life, and keeping quite aloof from, and
above, party. Melbourne called this ‘nonsense.’ Now, Victoria is praised
by Lord Spencer, the Liberal, for giving her Constitutional support to
the Tories.” On the 12th of November the Queen and Prince Albert paid a
visit to Lord Exeter, at Burleigh, which they left on the 15th; and the
year closed with an interchange of kindly feelings between the Prince
and Baron Stockmar, whose friendship was then entering upon its sixth
year.
Scientific discovery, or at any rate the practical application of
scientific truths to the ordinary needs of life, had made considerable
progress since the accession of Queen Victoria, and it may be convenient
at this stage to review some of the principal changes thus effected.
Electric Telegraph was probably of more importance than any other. The
active powers of the electric “fluid” had been known for many years, and
some of the greatest inquirers of modern times had anticipated
extraordinary results from an agency so potent, and so various in its
operations. The transmission of electricity by an insulated wire was
shown by several experimenters as early as 1747, and in later years
telegraphic arrangements were devised by scientific explorers, both
English and foreign. But no very decided progress in the transmission of
thought by electricity was effected until a short period before the
death of William IV., when somewhat analogous plans were simultaneously
conceived in England and America by Professor Wheatstone and Professor
Morse. It has sometimes been a matter of contention as to whether the
honour of this discovery should belong to the one or the other; but it
may in truth be fairly divided between both. The first telegraphic line
in England was set up by Mr. (afterwards Sir William) Cooke, on the
Great Western Railway, between Paddington and West Drayton, in 1838-9.
The first telegraphic line in America was not constructed until 1844.
From those respective dates, the new means of intercommunication spread
rapidly on both sides of the Atlantic, until, in these days, the whole
civilised world is covered with a mesh of telegraphic lines, almost as
wonderful in their operation as the web of nerves which, in the living
animal, carry the conceptions of the brain through every part of the
system, and the impression of the senses to the seat of reason. One of
the earliest practical applications of the new telegraphic system, in a
matter concerning the general interests of the public, occurred at the
commencement of 1845. On the 1st of January a woman was murdered at Salt
Hill, near Slough, and a certain Quaker with whom she had been intimate
was suspected of the crime. The man made his way to Slough, and
proceeded by train to London; but a telegraphic description of his
appearance, and a statement of the reasons for his detention, had
reached Paddington before the time of his arrival. A policeman was
waiting on the platform, and the suspected person was closely watched
and followed until it was considered prudent to arrest him. He was
tried, found guilty, and executed; and Sir Francis Head, the well-known
writer, records that while travelling on the same railway some time
afterwards, he heard a third-class passenger, pointing to the telegraph
lines, remark, “Them’s the cords that hanged John Tawell.”
Another great achievement of this period is the beautiful art of
Photography. Some slight approach towards this mode of producing
pictures was made as long ago as the sixteenth century, when the action
of light on
[Illustration: BURLEIGH HOUSE, STAMFORD.]
chloride of silver was discovered. Further results were obtained during
the eighteenth century, particularly by Thomas Wedgwood (son of the
celebrated potter) and Sir Humphry Davy. Wedgwood was the author of a
paper, published in 1802 in the Journal of the Royal Institution, which
he entitled “An Account of a Method of Copying Paintings upon Glass, and
of making Profiles by the Agency of Light upon Nitrate of Silver.” The
art, however, made no great progress until it was taken up in France by
M. Daguerre, who worked in concert with M. Joseph Nicéphore Niepce. The
latter died in 1833, after several years’ association with M. Daguerre;
but it was not until January, 1839, that the production of photographic
plates was publicly announced by his partner. In the same year, Mr.
Henry Fox Talbot published his mode of multiplying photographic
impressions by producing in the first instance a negative photograph,
from which any number of positive copies could be obtained. The earliest
photographs were called Daguerreotypes and Talbotypes, after the French
and English inventors; but in a few years both appellations were
superseded by the Greek word _photography_--literally, a
“light-writing,” though a “light-picture” would be the more proper
description. The uses of photography have been manifold, and the
satisfaction they have given in preserving the very reflex of the faces
of our dead relations and cherished friends is doubtless the greatest
triumph of all. Within a few months of his death, Prince Albert was
deeply moved on receiving from his daughter, the Crown Princess of
Prussia, a daguerreotype of his father. “How precious,” he writes to her
on the 3rd of September, 1861, “is the daguerreotype! After seventeen
years which have glided by since my dear father was taken away, all at
once his shade has come before me--for such, in fact, it is.”[17]
To the early part of Queen Victoria’s reign must be referred some of the
most practical applications of the gigantic telescope erected by the
Earl of Rosse at Parsonstown, in Ireland. This wonderful instrument
(which, however, has been much surpassed by later telescopes) was in
active operation from 1828 to 1845. Its power was such as to exhibit the
very rocks on this side of the moon, and our knowledge of that
satellite--a barren, mournful sphere of extinguished vitality--was
greatly increased by the scientific labours of Lord Rosse and his
coadjutors. Returning to mundane matters, we must refer to the opening
of the Thames Tunnel, which took place on the 25th of March, 1843. The
shaft had been commenced, and the first brick laid, as far back as the
2nd of March, 1825; but the work was twice delayed by the irruption of
water. This subway between Wapping and Rotherhithe was undoubtedly a
splendid triumph of modern engineering, and reflected the highest credit
on Mr. I. K. Brunel, who proposed and carried out the design. But the
tunnel was not long popular, and, after the dissolution of the Company
in 1866, the work was transferred to the East London Railway, by which
it has since been used. The Queen and Prince Albert were much
interested in the tunnel, and, in July, 1843, honoured it with a visit
of inspection.
Arctic discovery made some important strides about this date. Sir John
Franklin, accompanied by Captains Crozier and Fitzjames, sailed in the
_Erebus_ and _Terror_ on his third Arctic Expedition, May 24th, 1845.
From subsequent investigations, it appears that he discovered the
North-west passage, having sailed down Peel and Victoria Straits (now
called Franklin’s Straits) a few months after his arrival in those
inhospitable regions. The Expedition, however, was fatal to the brave
explorers. All England waited with anxiety for tidings of these
adventurous men; but, after a few despatches, an appalling silence and
mystery descended on the enterprise. Months passed away, and nothing
more was heard of the _Erebus_ and _Terror_. It was as if ships and men
had been snatched away from the world; and the public could comfort
itself only with vague hopes that, after all, the vessels and their crew
would reappear at some unexpected corner of the earth. When the suspense
became no longer bearable, expeditions were sent out in search of the
missing voyagers, and coals, provisions, clothing, and other
necessaries, were deposited at various points by the English and
American Governments, by Lady Franklin, and by several private
individuals. Some years later, wild rumours started up that Sir John
Franklin and the gaunt remnant of his crew had been seen at this place
and at that; but these accounts always proved incorrect. It is
unnecessary to recount the numerous expeditions sent out by Lady
Franklin, and by the Governments of Great Britain and the United States.
Suffice it to say that, on the 6th of May, 1859, Lieutenant Hobson found
at Point Victory, near Cape Victoria, a cairn and a tin case, the latter
containing a paper, signed on the 25th of April, 1848, by Captain
Fitzjames, which certified that the ships _Erebus_ and _Terror_ were
beset with ice on the 12th of September, 1846; that Sir John Franklin
died on the 11th of the following June; and that the ships were deserted
on the 22nd of April, 1848. Some skeletons and other relics were
afterwards discovered; but the precise nature of the sufferings endured
by these heroic men is swallowed up for ever in the icy silence of the
Polar Seas.
The rapid development of Tractarianism in the Church of England drew
forth from the Archbishop of Canterbury a letter to the clergy of the
Established Church, dated January 11th, 1845. His Grace forbore from
giving any authoritative opinion on the practices recently introduced,
but recommended moderation, forbearance, and mutual concession. Where
the Tractarian innovations had been submitted to quietly, he thought
they should be continued; but where they had been violently opposed, he
advised the clergyman not to insist on their observance. Uniformity in
the mode of conducting public worship he regarded as extremely
desirable; but, as the Rubric was not very consistent with itself, he
admitted that its authors might possibly have contemplated the existence
of some diversity, when sanctioned by convenience. Nothing could be more
amiable than the feeling which prompted this address; but it was
clearly unfitted to appease the feelings of either the Tractarians or
the Anti-Tractarians. Both sides were committed to the most extreme
views, which they advocated with mutual bitterness. Eight days after the
publication of the Archbishop’s circular, there was a disturbance in St.
Sidwell’s Church, Exeter, arising out of the Puseyite practices of the
Rev. Francis Courtenay. The matter was referred to the Bishop of Exeter
by the Mayor, and the former wrote to Mr. Courtenay, recommending him to
give way at the request of the civil authorities, and not to persist in
wearing the surplice in the pulpit, unless his conscience should require
him to do so. At the present day it seems a ridiculous wrangling over
trifles to dispute whether a clergyman shall wear a surplice or a gown;
but it should be recollected that these trifles were commonly held to be
the outward manifestations of a fixed determination on the part of all
Puseyite clergymen to assimilate the Church of England to the Church of
Rome. If the opposition to the surplice was trivial, so also was the
determination to wear it: if the wearing of the surplice involved a
serious principle on the one side, the resistance involved an equally
serious principle on the other. Yet the Archbishop of Canterbury thought
that a few kindly words would compose these heart-burnings, which had
already destroyed the peace of the Church, and now threatened its very
existence.
From all such vexed questions, and from the inevitable contentions of
party, it was an unspeakable comfort to the Queen and Prince Albert to
be able to retire for a brief season to some quiet country spot, where
they could live in repose and privacy. This immunity from public cares
gave their special charm to the Scottish tours. But the Highlands are
remote from London, and it was very desirable that some place should be
found, sufficiently removed for a leisurely seclusion, and sufficiently
near the metropolis for a quick and easy return. When her Majesty and
the Prince accompanied the King of the French to Portsmouth at the
conclusion of his visit in the autumn of 1844, they saw a charming
estate in the Isle of Wight, which has since become famous as the marine
residence of Osborne. It was Sir Robert Peel who drew their attention to
this beautiful retreat, and in the early part of 1845 it was purchased
by her Majesty. “It sounds so pleasant,” wrote the Queen to King
Leopold, “to have a place of one’s own, quiet and retired, and free from
all Woods and Forests, and other charming departments, which really are
the plague of one’s life.” The estate was afterwards enlarged by further
purchases, and the mansion then existing was almost immediately pulled
down, that a larger and more dignified edifice might occupy its site.
The new structure was planned by Prince Albert, and the building
operations were conducted by the late Mr. Thomas Cubitt. The grounds
also were laid out by the Prince, and the ornamental plantations, which
owed their existence to him, are still amongst the greatest beauties of
the Royal domain. Here likewise, as at Windsor, his Royal Highness had a
farm for scientific agriculture, which he managed so admirably that in a
little while he made it pay.
Before the opening of Parliament the Queen and Prince Albert paid two
visits which were productive of general satisfaction. The first, which
took place about the middle of January, was to the seat of the Duke of
Buckingham at Stowe, where the Royal couple were received in a style of
unusual magnificence. The other visit was to the Duke of Wellington at
Strathfieldsaye, where the Royal party arrived on the 20th of January.
“The Duke,” writes Mr. Anson, “takes the Queen in to dinner, and sits by
her Majesty, and after dinner gets up and says, ‘With your Majesty’s
permission, I give the health of her Majesty,’ and then the same for the
Prince. They then adjourn to
[Illustration: OSBORNE, ISLE OF WIGHT.]
the library, and the Duke sits on the sofa by the Queen for the rest of
the evening until eleven o’clock, the Prince and the gentlemen being
scattered about in the library, or the billiard-room which opens into
it. In a large conservatory beyond, the band of the Duke’s Grenadier
regiment plays through the evening.” The Queen and Prince Albert
returned on the 23rd of January to Windsor Castle, and the brief
amusements of the early year speedily gave place to those important
duties which are necessarily associated with the government of a great
Empire.
Parliament was opened by the Queen in person on the 4th of February. The
Royal Speech referred with satisfaction to the decline of political
agitation in Ireland. It was mentioned that, as a natural result of this
change, private capital had been more freely applied than previously to
useful public
[Illustration: THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON AT WINDSOR CASTLE.]
enterprises, undertaken through the friendly co-operation of individuals
interested in the welfare of that country. Sir Robert Peel made his
annual financial statement on the 14th of the same month. The Bank
Charter Act of 1844, for separating the issue from the banking
department of the great establishment in Threadneedle Street, limiting
the issue of notes, and requiring the whole of the further circulation
to be on a basis of bullion, had already placed the monetary affairs of
the country on a better footing. As regarded the Budget, the Premier
calculated the revenue for the ensuing year at £53,100,000, and the
expenditure at £49,000,000. Notwithstanding this surplus of more than
£4,000,000, Sir Robert Peel considered it advisable to continue the
Income Tax for a further period of three years, as he found it necessary
to increase the expenditure on account of the public service, and
desired to apply his surplus to the reduction of the sugar duty,
together with the abolition of the duties on glass, cotton, and wool,
and on the importation of Baltic staves. It was also proposed to abolish
the duty on all those articles which yielded merely nominal amounts--a
step which, it was calculated, would sweep away four hundred and thirty
articles from the tariff. These proposals met with no great opposition,
and were rapidly carried through Parliament by large majorities.
In another portion of his policy Peel encountered much more trouble.
Measures were proposed for the establishment of Queen’s Colleges at
Belfast, Cork, and Galway, which should be open to all, without
religious distinction, and for increasing the annual grant to the
College of Maynooth from £9,000 to £30,000. Both measures, though
ultimately successful, were calculated to exasperate some of the deepest
feelings of that time; and Peel found considerable difficulty in
carrying out his designs. The proposed Colleges for Belfast, Cork, and
Galway, were described as the “Godless Colleges,” and the expression was
the common taunt levelled at all who thought such institutions likely to
effect good in the mitigation of religious animosities. The opposition
to the increased Maynooth grant had much more of reason on its side. The
College at Maynooth had been founded by Parliament in 1795 for the
education of students designed for the Roman Catholic priesthood in
Ireland. An Act for its government was passed in 1800; but its existence
as a State-supported institution was always repugnant to the Protestant
feeling of England. When, therefore, it was proposed to add £21,000 to
the yearly grant, it was not unnaturally considered by large numbers of
Englishmen that the time had come for making a decided protest. No doubt
a vast amount of the narrowest and fiercest bigotry was mixed up with
this opposition; yet, after sweeping aside all this froth and venom, the
naked fact remains that Protestants were expected to pay an annual sum
towards the education of Roman Catholic priests, who were not likely to
show any affection either for Protestantism or for England. The whole
principle of religious endowments is open to the gravest question, and,
had the opponents of the Maynooth grant taken their stand on _that_
ground, they would have advanced their cause with all reasonable men,
though probably their numerical following would have been less. But the
enlistment of bigotry on the side of the objectors was not unnatural
from their own point of view, though it drew down on them some scathing
criticisms. Mr. Macaulay, soon afterwards known as the most brilliant
historian of modern times, spoke of “the bray of Exeter Hall,” and lost
his re-election for Edinburgh, two years later, in consequence of that
sarcasm. After all the clamour of adverse opinions, Peel carried the
increased grant; but for many years after, the late Mr. Spooner made an
annual motion against the Maynooth College, and delivered himself of a
rambling speech, to which few listened. Most persons found the subject a
nuisance; and when the Irish Church was disestablished and disendowed in
1869, it was agreed that the annual Parliamentary grant to Maynooth
should cease at the commencement of 1871, though compensation was made,
as a matter of obvious fairness.
The augmentation of the Maynooth grant led to the resignation of Mr.
Gladstone, who occupied the position of President of the Board of Trade
in the Government of Sir Robert Peel. He was not at all opposed to the
measure, which, in fact, he supported as a private member; but he
considered that his book entitled “The State in its Relations with the
Church,” first published in 1838, contained some passages which
precluded him from taking part as a Minister in the proposed measure. In
addressing the House on the 4th of February he observed:--“I have a
strong conviction, speaking under ordinary circumstances and as a
general rule, that those who have borne the most solemn testimony to a
particular view of a great and constitutional question ought not to be
parties responsible for proposals which involve a material departure
from it.”
Religious questions were at that time prominently before the public, and
Sir Robert Peel showed an anxiety to remove those restrictions which had
formerly been considered necessary to the safety of the State and
Church. During the session of 1845, a Bill was introduced by the
Government for removing the test by which Jews were excluded from
certain municipal offices. The existing state of the law was
ridiculously inconsistent; for, while a Jew might be the High Sheriff of
a county, or Sheriff of London, he was not allowed to be a Mayor, an
Alderman, or a member of the Common Council. Before occupying any of
these offices, he had to swear “on the true faith of a Christian,” which
of course no Jew would do. A measure to remove the anomaly was
introduced into the Upper House by Lord Lyndhurst, the Lord Chancellor,
and, strange to say, it passed through that Assembly, which had
previously resisted all attempts in the same direction. The Bill
underwent no danger in the House of Commons, for the Lower Chamber had
in previous sessions endeavoured to effect the same reform.
Prince Albert was extremely gratified by Sir Robert Peel’s Budget for
1845, which not only, as we have seen, reduced or obliterated a vast
number of vexatious duties, but at the same time placed the finances of
the country on so excellent a footing as to enable the Minister to ask
for the Navy and Ordnance Estimates an increase of a million and a half
so as to augment the power of Great Britain at sea. For the security of
our ports, seven sail of the line were always to be available in the
Channel, and three on foreign stations; and the Prince saw in these
arrangements a renewed guarantee for the peace of Europe. He was also
much pleased by an allusion, in the financial statement of the Prime
[Illustration: MAYNOOTH COLLEGE.]
Minister, to the fact that the recent visits of Imperial and Royal
personages had involved no additional expense to the country. The
reforms in the administration of the Royal Household, due to the
initiative of Prince Albert, had effected so great a saving that the
Civil List was found quite adequate to the extra demands upon it. “Those
visits,” said Sir Robert Peel, “of necessity created a considerable
increase of expenditure; but, through that wise system of economy which
is the only source of true magnificence, her Majesty was enabled to meet
every charge, and to give a reception to the sovereigns which struck
every one by its magnificence, without adding one tittle to the burdens
of the country. I am not required on the part of her Majesty to press
for the extra expenditure of one single shilling on account of these
unforeseen causes of increased expenditure. I think that to state this
is only due to the personal credit of her Majesty, who insists upon it
that there shall be every magnificence required by her station, but
without incurring a single debt.”
These gratifying statements were transmitted by Prince Albert to Baron
Stockmar, who, it will be recollected, was largely concerned in those
reforms in the Household which had been productive of such admirable
results. In his reply, written on the 28th of February, the Baron
alludes to a speech having
[Illustration: LORD LYNDHURST.]
reference to his Royal Highness, and asks, “What can it be which has led
to the reopening of that report?” The report in question was a rumour to
the effect that the title of King Consort was about to be conferred upon
the Prince, by the special desire of her Majesty. For this belief there
was some foundation--not as respected any existing intention, but with
reference to a project which was undoubtedly formed in 1841. In that
year it was the earnest wish of her Majesty that the regal title should
be conferred on her consort. She perceived that his somewhat anomalous
position placed him at a disadvantage with other illustrious personages,
and was often inconsistent with the dignity properly belonging to the
Queen’s husband. Her views were therefore submitted to the judgment of
Baron Stockmar, without the Prince himself knowing anything of the
matter. The Baron, with that practical sense and wisdom which always
distinguished him, strongly opposed the suggestion; and so did Sir
Robert Peel and Lord Aberdeen, to whom, by her Majesty’s wish, Stockmar
had referred the question. Both those Statesmen believed that the
proposed change would be attended by undesirable results, and the
project was in consequence abandoned. The revival of the idea was due in
no respect either to her Majesty or to the Prince; but, in the early
part of 1845, the _Morning Chronicle_ announced that the title of King
Consort was about to be created. On the 17th of February the Premier was
questioned in the House of Commons as to whether there was any truth in
this rumour, and Sir Robert Peel stated in reply that the paragraph was
wholly without foundation. The design of making Prince Albert
Commander-in-Chief after the death of the Duke of Wellington seems to
have been really discussed for the second time at this period; but the
duties were too onerous to be undertaken by his Royal Highness, in
addition to the other demands on his attention. The appointment was
never conferred on him, and it would certainly have been an affront to
English feeling had such a post been occupied by a foreigner.
[Illustration: FAVOURITE DOGS. (_After Etchings by the Queen._)]
CHAPTER XI.
ENGLAND IN 1845.
Borneo and Sir James Brooke--Cession of Labuan to Great
Britain--“Constitutionalism” in the Sandwich Islands--State of the
Colonies--Unsuccessful Attack on Madagascar--Commencement of the
Overland Route to India--Decline in the Popularity of Sir Robert
Peel--Rise of Mr. Disraeli and the Young England Party--Generous
Support of Peel by the Queen and Prince Albert--Offer of the Garter
to Sir Robert, which he declines--Position of the Premier towards
the Aristocracy--Increasing Weakness of the Government--Dangerous
State of Ireland--Prince Albert on the Political Situation--Visit
of the Queen to Belgium and Prussia--Splendid Reception in the
latter Country--Speech of the King of Prussia at Bonn--The
Illuminations at Cologne--Prince Albert and Baron von
Humboldt--Reception of the Royal Visitors in Bavaria, at Coburg,
and at Gotha--The Queen at the Native Place of her
Husband--Excursion to the Thuringian Forest--Other Incidents of the
German Visit--Second Visit of the Queen and Prince Albert to Louis
Philippe at the Château d’Eu--Duplicity of the King--Return of the
Royal Party to England--Spread of Railway Enterprise in Great
Britain--The Railway Mania and Panic of 1845-6--Increasing Strength
of the Free Trade Movement--The Potato Disease in
Ireland--Threatenings of Famine--Sir Robert Peel and Free
Trade--Letter of Lord John Russell to the Electors of the City of
London--Ministerial Crisis--Return of Sir Robert Peel to Power.
A great Empire, so long as the vigour of its people survives, is
continually spreading in new directions--sometimes by indefensible
means, at other times by methods which may be justified in accordance
with the ordinary nature of human affairs. In the early years of Queen
Victoria’s reign considerable activity was shown in the eastern parts of
Asia, and some important additions were made to the British possessions.
Borneo--the largest island in the world, next to Australia--was brought
under the notice of Englishmen, about 1841, by the proceedings of an
adventurous explorer. Until then it had been very little known in Great
Britain, although discovered by the Portuguese as far back as 1518. The
Dutch traded there during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries; but
the distant situation of the island, in the middle of the China Seas,
restricted the intercourse of Europeans with its people. The adjacent
waters swarmed with pirates, who not only robbed, but committed the most
extreme atrocities; and the evil was not firmly taken in hand until a
retired Anglo-Indian officer, named James Brooke, resolved to put down
buccaneering in the Eastern Archipelago. Providing himself with a large
yacht (which, being attached to the Royal Yacht Squadron, possessed in
foreign seas the privileges of a ship of war), he practised his crew for
about three years in the Mediterranean and other European seas, and
departed for the East near the end of October, 1838. Arriving at
Sarawak, he and his men lent their aid to the Sultan of Borneo in
suppressing an insurrection among the Dyaks, a savage race, distinct
from the ruling tribe, who are Malays. In acknowledgment of his services
Brooke was made Rajah and Governor of Sarawak in September, 1841, and
used his power in efforts to improve the laws and civilise the people.
He also obtained the assistance of various British ships of war in the
extirpation of piracy, and many persons were slaughtered on the
allegation that they were freebooters. At a somewhat later date the
English Rajah quarrelled with the Sultan, attacked his capital city,
took it by storm, and put the whole army to flight. The Sultan was
afterwards reinstated; but Sir James Brooke (as he afterwards became)
still held his position as Rajah of Sarawak. The upshot of all these
adventures, so far as this period of Queen Victoria’s reign is
concerned, was that, in the course of 1846, a treaty was concluded with
the Sultan, through the instrumentality of Brooke, by which the island
of Labuan, to the north-west of Borneo, was, together with its
dependencies, ceded to the British Empire, as a naval station between
India and China. A money payment was made to the Sultan, and Sir James
Brooke acted for a time as Governor and Commander-in-Chief of Labuan.
His conduct, however, was much impugned in Parliament by Messrs. Hume
and Cobden, who maintained that many innocent persons had been slain,
under pretence of their being pirates, and that the inducement to these
acts was the “head-money” paid by the British Government to the sailors.
These charges, though seemingly not improbable, were never distinctly
proved; but the money payment was wisely abolished.
Travelling still farther from home, we find the Sandwich Islands offered
to Great Britain by their king, Kamehameha III., in 1843. Some British
subjects had claims against this chieftain, which he knew not how else
to meet. The offer was not accepted; but the islands were taken under
British protection, and formed into a kind of semi-independent State,
with a ridiculous travesty of so-called “Constitutional” government. Two
Houses of Parliament were appointed, and met for the first time on the
20th of May, 1845. The dusky-coloured sovereign delivered a speech from
the throne, and told his people that it was their possession of the Word
of God which had introduced them into the family of nations. All these
assumptions of European modes sound extremely ludicrous; yet, since
those days, the Sandwich islanders have got on fairly well, so that
Kamehameha was not altogether without justification in his hopeful
anticipations. To the minds of Queen Victoria and Prince Albert, the
enlargement of the area of civilisation, under the ægis of the British
Empire, must have been profoundly interesting. But there were parts of
our actual dominions, peopled by men of English race, where the right of
self-government was not enjoyed at all. In 1845, we had forty-two
colonies, of which only twenty-five had representative institutions, and
those of a very incomplete character. The consequence was seen in
continual complaints of misgovernment, corruption, and tyranny; and
successive Colonial Secretaries seem to have been equally indifferent to
the just demands of their countrymen beyond the seas.
In May, 1845, a new convention was concluded between England and France
for the better suppression of the slave trade. A little later in the
same year, a French and English squadron made a somewhat futile
demonstration off Madagascar, an island on the south-eastern coast of
Africa. Madagascar,
[Illustration: THE OVERLAND ROUTE--SCENE AT BOULAK. (_See p. 190._)]
like the Sandwich Islands, had been to a great extent Christianised for
some years past; but in 1835 a reactionary policy set in, under the
vigorous incitements of Queen Ranavalona, and the English missionaries
were compelled to leave. Ten years later, the native laws were applied
to such European settlers as had been suffered to remain--an unfortunate
result of the combined French and English attack on the sea-coasts.
During these operations, some forts and part of a town were destroyed;
but, on the whole, the expedition was unsuccessful, and the native
Christians suffered from the exasperation of feeling thus engendered.
Much more satisfactory, as regarded our intercourse with the Oriental
world, was the inauguration of the Overland Route to and from India, due
to the enterprise of Lieutenant Waghorn, who, on the 31st of October,
1845, arrived in London with the Bombay Mail of the 1st of that month.
His despatches had reached Suez on the 19th, and Alexandria on the 20th
of October; and from the latter of those cities he proceeded by
steamboat to the European continent, when, hurrying post through
Austria, Baden, Bavaria, Prussia, and Belgium, he reached London at
half-past four on the morning of October 31st. The speed of the Overland
Route was afterwards increased; but it had the disadvantage of greater
expense. The difference between the old and the new system consisted in
the fact that by the former it was necessary to pursue the long
sea-route by the Cape of Good Hope, and so round the western coasts of
Africa and Europe; whereas, by Lieutenant Waghorn’s system, the
passengers and luggage were carried by land across the Isthmus of Suez
and transferred to another vessel on the northern shore. Hence the
extensive operations of the Peninsular and Oriental Steam Navigation
Company, with which modern visitors to the East are so well acquainted.
While these important things were being done in distant parts of the
world, the state of political affairs in England was becoming somewhat
complicated. The popularity of Sir Robert Peel had, by 1845, greatly
declined from the mark at which it stood in 1841. Thousands of persons
complained of the Income Tax--of the unfairness of its incidence, the
heaviness of its burden, and the inquisitorial character inseparable
from its operation. The objectors did not sufficiently consider that the
imposition of this tax had enabled the Premier to abolish many millions
of duties upon articles of ordinary consumption. The boon was accepted
with silent gratitude; but the price by which it had been purchased was
assailed in terms of unmeasured vituperation. Such was the view taken by
a large majority of the public, and at the same time Sir Robert Peel had
to encounter the assaults of many prominent members of the party to
which he himself belonged, whose animosity was excited by his manifest
leaning towards a Free Trade policy, and by other tendencies which had
far more of a Liberal than a Conservative character. It was now that Mr.
Disraeli began to acquire that commanding force in Parliament which he
never ceased to exercise until his death in 1881. The days had long
gone by when he was unable to obtain a hearing in the House of Commons;
when his voice was drowned by hoots, and his awkward flights of rhetoric
were met with peals of laughter. He had developed a style of remarkable
pungency and vigour; and perhaps no one in the Lower House, at that
time, possessed so remarkable a power of launching those barbed arrows
of sarcasm which never fail to strike, and which usually leave a scar
behind.
In the opinion of Mr. Disraeli and his followers, Sir Robert Peel was a
traitor, who had obtained office on the understanding that he was to
support some form of Protection, and all the other principles of the
Conservative party, but who was now unquestionably moving in the
opposite direction. The truth is that the Tory party was splitting up
into two camps, both of which differed a good deal from the old
connection. Peel and his adherents were becoming to a great extent
Liberals in their political ideas, though with some differences from the
Whig party; the rest of the Tories, consisting of ardent and
enthusiastic young men, were endeavouring to form a body which they
called “Young England.” This association of Conservative Reformers had
arisen some few years before; but it was only now beginning to attract
general attention. The leader of this party was Mr. Disraeli, who
expounded its principles in several novels, but particularly in
“Coningsby,” first published in 1844, Other prominent members were Lord
John Manners, Mr. George Smythe (afterwards the seventh Lord
Strangford), Lord George Bentinck, Mr. Henry Hope, son of the author of
“Anastasius,” Mr. Monckton Milnes (better known in later times as Lord
Houghton), and some others less generally recognised. The essential
principles of these gentlemen were Aristocracy and Churchism. Their
ideal was found in the Middle Ages, or at any rate in a period not much
later; but, together with some genuine sympathy with the poor, and some
views which may have been needed as a counteraction to the excessive
utilitarianism of the past forty years, it cannot be denied that a large
amount of weak sentimentality was mixed up with the opinions and methods
of the reformers. With all their earnestness and all their wit, the
Young Englanders could not keep their system going for more than a
handful of years.
Under all the difficulties of the time, it was an immense consolation to
Sir Robert Peel to know that he had the hearty support of her Majesty
and Prince Albert. This was the more valuable as the first association
of the Conservative chief with the head of the State had been, as the
reader is aware, of a delicate and unpleasant character. While still
under the influence of Lord Melbourne, it is evident that the Queen had
no great liking for Sir Robert Peel. His opposition to the sovereign in
the Bedchamber question left a feeling of soreness, which lasted some
time after the incident had ceased to agitate the public mind; and the
cold manners of Peel might have proved an obstacle to cordial relations
between that politician and his Royal mistress. But all such
difficulties were overcome when a more intimate acquaintance with the
former had shown the latter how sterling and admirable were his
qualities. By 1845 her Majesty had acquired as great a regard for Sir
Robert as she had formerly entertained for Lord Melbourne. She felt a
warm sympathy with her Conservative Minister in the difficulties he had
to encounter from a somewhat factious Opposition, and, acting under this
feeling, she sent to him, in March, 1845, a letter she had received from
King Leopold, speaking very highly of his measures. In replying to this
communication, Peel observed:--“His Majesty has an intimate knowledge of
this country, and is just so far removed from the scene of political
contention here as to be able to take a clear and dispassionate view of
the motives and acts of public men.” The writer added that he looked to
no other reward, apart from her Majesty’s favourable opinion, than that
posterity should confirm the judgment of King Leopold--namely, that Sir
Robert Peel had used the power committed to him for the maintenance of
the honour and just prerogatives of the Crown, and the advancement of
the public welfare. In concluding his reply, the Premier acknowledged
the “generous confidence and support” which he had invariably received
from her Majesty.
The rancour exhibited by a large portion of his own party, in opposing
the increased grant to Maynooth, was so excessive that the Queen felt a
great desire to bestow some special favour on Sir Robert Peel, as a mark
of her confidence and esteem. She wished to confer on him the Order of
the Garter, but, feeling doubtful how far this would meet the wishes of
the Premier himself, requested Lord Aberdeen to sound him on the topic.
Peel questioned, and wisely so, whether this honour would be of any
service to him as a public man. Indeed, he considered that it would
probably have the contrary effect; and he therefore declined the
perilous distinction. In thanking her Majesty for the offer, he observed
that he sprang from the people, was essentially a man of the people, and
felt that in his case such an honour would be misapplied. His heart, he
said, was not set upon titles of honour, or social distinctions; and the
only reward he desired on quitting the service of her Majesty was that
she should say to him, “You have been a faithful servant, and have done
your duty to your country and to myself.” Sir Robert Peel was the son of
a Lancashire manufacturer who, being also a member of the House of
Commons, and a politician not wholly undistinguished in his day, had
been created a Baronet in 1800. The mother of the future Premier was the
daughter of another manufacturer; so that the second Sir Robert Peel had
every reason to describe himself as essentially a plebeian. There would
have been no harm in his accepting the Garter, but it was certainly more
in accordance with the simplicity and genuineness of his nature to
decline it. It is not improbable that something of the merely external
coldness of Peel’s nature (for in the recesses of that nature he was not
cold) may have been due to what Dr. Johnson admirably called “defensive
pride.” The slightest compromise of his own dignity might possibly have
drawn down upon him the supercilious taunts of the aristocratic party
which he led.
[Illustration: VIEW IN MALINES.]
By dint of his powerful intellect and unresting industry, Sir Robert
Peel managed to keep the Government on its feet during the Session of
1845. But he knew well that the days of the Cabinet were numbered, and,
through the medium of Lord Aberdeen, he prepared her Majesty and Prince
Albert for the Ministerial crisis which he felt sure would not be long
in coming. The malcontent members of his own party might at any moment
coalesce with the Whigs, and upset the Administration. Moreover, he had
taken too much upon himself, and was beginning to feel the strain. The
time had been when he was of opinion that the Prime Minister of England
should always be in the House of Commons; but he now perceived that his
position in that chamber entailed an amount of work which no human being
could long sustain. Sometimes he thought of trying to effect a
combination between the more liberal Conservatives and the Whigs; but
the task would not have been easy, and would probably have failed in its
operation. He went on, therefore, with heroic resolve, but with an
ever-increasing conviction that a crisis must arrive before many months
were over. The efforts to conciliate the Irish by the increase of the
Maynooth grant, the establishment of the Queen’s Colleges, and other
measures, had failed as utterly as all such efforts invariably do.
Ireland was again becoming disaffected, and the Queen was once more
obliged to postpone indefinitely her contemplated visit to that island.
The Corporation of Dublin had in May presented an address to her
Majesty, requesting that she would visit their country, and promising
her a welcome of the utmost warmth and the most perfect unanimity. But
the Queen replied evasively that “whenever she might be enabled to
receive in Ireland the promised welcome, she should rely with confidence
upon the loyalty and affection of her faithful subjects.” No date was
mentioned for the promised visit, and undoubtedly the state of Ireland
was such that it would have been imprudent on the part of the Sovereign
to venture within the range of so many possible dangers. The agitation
for Repeal had again sprung up; agrarian crimes were frequent; and the
potato-disease was beginning to show itself, to an extent which made
thoughtful men apprehensive of the future. The Queen therefore resolved
to take her holiday on the Continent, and proceed up the Rhine to
Saxony. She could not depart, however, until the prorogation of
Parliament, and in the meanwhile there were many causes of anxiety. “In
politics,” said Prince Albert, writing to Baron Stockmar on the 18th of
July, 1845, “we are drawing near the close of one of the most remarkable
sittings of Parliament. Peel has carried through everything with immense
majorities; but it is certain he has no longer any stable Parliamentary
support. His party is quite broken up, and the Opposition has as many
different opinions and principles as heads.” The Session came to an end
on the 9th of August, and the same evening her Majesty and Prince Albert
sailed from Woolwich for Antwerp in the Royal yacht. The fine old city
was reached at six o’clock on the evening of the 10th, amidst a downpour
of rain. Nevertheless, the place was illuminated after the primitive
fashion so often seen on the Continent. The same cheerless weather
continued next day, when the Royal party landed. Proceeding by rail to
Malines, the visitors were there met by the King and Queen of the
Belgians, who accompanied them as far as Verviers. Guards of honour
saluted at every station, and the frequent tunnels were illuminated with
lamps and torches.
At length they gained the Prussian frontier, where the train was met by
Lord Westmoreland (the English Ambassador at Berlin), the Chevalier
Bunsen, and certain gentlemen of the Prussian Court who had been
appointed to wait upon the Queen and Prince. At Aix-la-Chapelle they
found the King of Prussia, together with several members of the Royal
Family. “In the room of the station,” writes the Queen, in her Journal,
“were assembled all the authorities, the clergy, Catholic and Lutheran,
and a number of young ladies dressed in white, one of whom, a daughter
of the Burgomaster, recited some complimentary verses.” Her Majesty and
the Prince, together with their party, afterwards visited the Cathedral
and other memorial edifices, and the journey was resumed in the evening.
The reception at Cologne was especially cordial and impressive, and from
that city the Royal party soon reached the station at Brühl. Here the
English visitors went into one of the saloons of the Palace to listen to
the splendid tattoo performed by fire hundred military musicians. The
room was illuminated with torches, and with lamps of coloured glass, and
the whole effect was most splendid. At Bonn they attended the
inauguration of the Beethoven statue, and were serenaded by an enormous
orchestra, consisting of sixty military bands. At four o’clock on the
same day, a grand banquet was given at the Palace, on which occasion the
Prussian King made a speech, in which he said:--“Gentlemen, fill your
glasses! There is a word of inexpressible sweetness to British as well
as to German hearts. Thirty years ago it echoed on the heights of
Waterloo from British and German tongues, after days of hot and
desperate fighting, to mark the glorious triumph of our brotherhood in
arms. Now it resounds on the banks of our fair Rhine, amid the blessings
of that peace which was the hallowed fruit of the great conflict. That
word is _Victoria_!” His Majesty then drank to the health of the Queen
and Prince Albert; and the former, who was much affected, rose, bent
towards the King, and kissed his cheek.
After the banquet, the Royal party returned by rail to Cologne, and
there embarked on a steamer to witness the illuminations from the river.
The spectacle was of the most splendid description, and, as reflected
from the waters of the Rhine, appeared doubly glorious. “As darkness
closed in,” says a writer, who seems to have caught the spirit of the
scene, “the dim and fetid city began to put forth buds of light. Lines
of twinkling brightness darted like liquid gold and silver from pile to
pile, then along the famous bridge of boats, across the river, up the
masts of the shipping, and all abroad upon the opposite bank. Rockets
now shot from all parts of the horizon, As the Royal party glided down
the river, the banks blazed with fireworks and musketry. The Cathedral
burst forth a building of light, every detail of the architecture being
made out in delicately-coloured lamps--pinkish with an underglow of
orange.” Some of the houses appeared absolutely red-hot, and the beauty
of the scene was so extraordinary that the spectators forgot the drizzle
of rain which was gradually wetting them through. A day or two
[Illustration: THE QUEEN AND PRINCE ALBERT AT THE CHILDREN’S FÊTE IN
COBURG ON ST. GREGORY’S DAY.]
later, the Queen and her companions steamed up the Rhine--an illustrious
party, consisting of three Queens, two Kings, a Prince Consort, an
Archduke, and the Prince and Princess, who, in 1871, became Emperor and
Empress of Germany. Amongst persons distinguished for intellect was the
Baron von Humboldt, for whom Prince Albert entertained a profound
admiration, but who appears not to have reciprocated this feeling. The
Prince was unaware of the fact at that time; but after the death of
Humboldt, in 1859, some letters of that famous man were published in
Germany, and in one of these, written on the 27th of February, 1847,
Humboldt says:--“I am severe only with the great ones, and this man
[Prince Albert] made an uncomfortable impression upon me at Stolzenfels.
‘I know,’ he said to me, ‘that you sympathise greatly with the
misfortunes of the Russian Poles. Unfortunately, the Poles are as little
deserving of our sympathy as the Irish.’” The Prince was much annoyed at
the publication of remarks which he had made in private; moreover, he
denied that his words had been correctly reported. It would seem that he
had made some observations on the faults of character common to both
races; but it is not likely that he expressed himself in the sweeping
manner described by Humboldt.
In Bavaria, at Coburg and Gotha, and in other parts of Germany, the
reception given to the Queen was equally enthusiastic. Coming near to
Coburg, on the 18th of August, the English Sovereign felt deeply moved
and agitated at approaching the native place of her husband. On their
arrival, the Royal visitors were welcomed by Ernest, Duke of Coburg, who
was dressed in full uniform. “At the entrance to the town,” writes her
Majesty, “we came to a triumphal arch, where Herr Bergner, the
Burgomaster, addressed us, and was quite overcome. On the other side
stood a number of young girls dressed in white, with green wreaths and
scarfs, who presented us with bouquets and verses. I cannot say how much
I felt moved on entering this dear old place, and with difficulty I
restrained my emotion. The beautifully ornamented town, all bright with
wreaths and flowers, the numbers of good, affectionate people, the many
recollections connected with the place--all was so affecting. In the
Platz, where the Rathhaus and Regierungshaus are (which are fine and
curious old houses), the clergy were assembled, and Ober-Superintendent
Genzler addressed us very kindly--a very young-looking man of his age,
for he married mamma to my father, and christened and confirmed Albert
and Ernest.” Arriving at the Palace, they were received by such a crowd
of relatives that, as the Queen records, “the staircase was full of
cousins.” The occasion was interesting and pleasant; but it was
overmastered by a feeling of sadness, consequent on the recent death of
Prince Albert’s father, and this mournful sentiment was intensified when
the Royal visitors drove to the Rosenau, the favourite country seat of
the late Duke, where Prince Albert himself had been born. This residence
was now fitted up for the use of the Queen and her husband during their
stay at Coburg; but, “every sound, every view, every step we take,”
writes the former, “makes us think of him [the late Duke], and feel an
indescribable, hopeless longing for him.” The visitors were shown over
the fortress which guards the town of Coburg, and were much interested
in beholding the room once occupied by Luther, in which his chair and a
portion of his bed are still preserved. On the 20th of August--the
festival of St. Gregorius--the Royal party were present at the
children’s fête invariably given in honour of that day. The behaviour of
the little boys and girls appears to have been most exemplary, and the
occasion was a very joyous one.
Many other festivities marked the stay of the Queen and Prince Albert at
the Rosenau. The 26th of August, the anniversary of the Prince’s birth,
was spent in the house where he had first seen the light, and many of
the peasants, in gala dress, came to the house with wreaths, nosegays,
and hearty congratulations. On the following day, the Royal visitors
left the Rosenau with heavy hearts, and proceeded to Reinhardtsbrunn,
the scenery surrounding which gave her Majesty the keenest pleasure.
Thence they went on to Gotha, and on the following day (August 30th)
made an excursion to the Thuringian Forest, the beauties of which are
not easily to be matched. In the heart of the forest, a beautiful
pavilion, ornamented with branches of fir and interwoven wreaths of
flowers and laurels, was found awaiting the distinguished visitors.
Here, to the music of a fine band, a great _battue_ of game took place,
with the result that fifty-five animals, of which thirty-one were stags,
were stretched dead or wounded on the turf. It was a shocking
exhibition, and the Queen records in her Journal that none of the
gentlemen liked it. Nevertheless, they took part in it, and opinion in
England was rather strongly expressed against such a method of
emphasising a holiday. The visit to Germany, however, had, on the whole,
been most delightful, and when the time came for departure, the Queen
could hardly bear to think that she must leave. Gotha was quitted on the
3rd of September, and, on their return journey, the Queen and Prince
Albert halted at Eisenach, where the Grand Duke of Weimar took them to
the historic castle of Wartburg, where Luther spent many months of
seclusion at a period of great danger to himself, and where they were
shown, together with the table at which he wrote, and the wedding-ring
which he wore, the dark mark upon the wall where he threw his inkstand
at a visionary devil. The rest of the journey was rapidly performed;
but, before returning to England, the Queen had to pay a second visit to
Louis Philippe at the Château d’Eu.
At Tréport, which they reached on the morning of September 8th, her
Majesty and the Prince were received by the French Sovereign. On
reaching the Château, they found that one of the rooms had been fitted
up, in honour of her Majesty’s former visit, with pictures illustrating
what had then happened, with others having reference to the King’s own
visit to Windsor, and with portraits by Winterhalter of the Queen and
Prince Albert. The whole company of the Opéra Comique had been brought
down from Paris, and, in a temporary theatre constructed in the grounds,
two lively French operas were performed in the evening. This second
visit to Louis Philippe was extremely short, for, on the evening of the
next day (September 9th), it came to a close. The King rowed in his
barge to the Queen’s yacht, and, while Prince Albert went to show the
Prince de Joinville a smaller yacht, called the _Fairy_, the French
monarch entered into conversation with her Majesty and Lord Aberdeen on
the subject of the Spanish marriages. “The King,” records Queen Victoria
in her Journal, “told Lord Aberdeen, as well as me, he never would hear
of Montpensier’s marriage with the Infanta of Spain (which they are in a
great fright about in England) until it was no longer a political
question, which would be when the Queen is married, and has children.
This is very satisfactory.... When Albert came back with Joinville,
which was about seven o’clock, the King said he must go; and they all
took leave, the King embracing me again and again. We saw and heard the
King land. The sun had set, and in a very short while there was the most
beautiful moonlight, exquisitely reflected on the water. We walked up
and down, and Lord Aberdeen was full of the extreme success of our whole
tour, which had gone off charmingly, including this little visit, which
had been most successful.” Lord Aberdeen was a Minister very easily
satisfied with the promises of foreign Powers; but it must be admitted
that, after so specific a statement as that of Louis Philippe with
reference to his son, the Duc de Montpensier, it was not easy to suppose
that in about a year he would act in direct contradiction of his pledged
word. The visit, however, had been paid; the words had been uttered; and
on the 10th of September the Queen again reached England, reinvigorated
by her tour, and fully satisfied that nothing unpleasant was likely to
occur with respect to Spain and France.
Towards the close of 1845, the whole of England was much disturbed by an
unwholesome extension of railway enterprise, which ended in a panic and
an alarming crash. Only fifteen years had elapsed since the opening of
the Liverpool and Manchester Railway, which, though not absolutely the
first of iron roads, was the earliest to attract general attention. But
in that brief period railways had been pushed forward in many
directions, and had become the most important means of communication in
the country. They appealed to all classes and to all interests, and on
Easter Monday, 1844, the system of cheap excursion trips, with return
tickets, was added to the other attractions of this method of
conveyance. The great landowners did not like the innovation; for in
many instances their ancestral parks were cut through by the relentless
engineer, and, although the persons so injured received money
compensation, there are certain troubles which the guinea will not cure.
Those, also, who lived in remote and picturesque districts, disliked to
see their solitudes invaded by a smoky engine, a rattling train of
carriages, and perhaps a somewhat vulgar and tumultuous crowd. The poet
Wordsworth was desperately offended at this desecration of his beloved
Lake district; and doubtless many other persons had the same feeling,
without being able to express it in the form of an eloquent sonnet. A
great deal of allowance must be made for this very natural sentiment;
yet the interests of a whole people could not be set aside for any such
considerations. The work of constructing railways went on, and for a
time the speculations were of a healthy and legitimate character. But in
1844-45 a number of bubble companies arose, which originated in
dishonest greed, and had nothing but a swindler’s success for their
object. The country seemed to go mad about railways. Every newspaper
overflowed with advertisements of new projects;
[Illustration: THE CASTLE OF THE WARTBURG.]
every beggar thought he was going to be a millionaire. Parliament had
but recently taken the control of railways under its supervision;
defining the limit of fares, arranging other matters of detail in the
interest of the public, and requiring that, before any company could
come into operation, it should deposit at the Board of Trade a specific
account, accompanied by sketches, plans, and sections of the lines, of
the objects which it proposed to effect, and the means by which those
objects were to be carried out. The last day on which these accounts
could be rendered was November 30th, 1845. It happened to be Sunday--a
circumstance overlooked when the arrangement was made; but all day long
the proposed schemes came pouring in, and when at length the doors were
closed at midnight, those who had arrived too late rang the bell, and,
the moment they found an opportunity, flung their plans into the hall,
only to see them thrown out again. The total number of railway schemes
thus lodged at the Board of Trade, before the end of the closing day,
was 788. Many of these were bubble companies, floated by swindling and
often poverty-stricken speculators, who found a number of persons simple
enough to take shares, and pay money for them. When the crash was
imminent, the vagabonds made off with their gains, and the credulous
shareholders had to put up with their loss. One of the great leaders of
railway
[Illustration: GEORGE WILSON, CHAIRMAN OF THE ANTI-CORN-LAW LEAGUE.]
enterprise in those days was Mr. George Hudson, a draper of York, with a
genius for this kind of speculation, in which he made an enormous
fortune. There can be no doubt that the railway enterprise of England
was largely advanced by the labours and abilities of this person, who
was the chairman of numerous companies; but in a subsequent year it was
considered that he had misappropriated a large sum of money, and he was
compelled to refund no less a sum than £190,000.
Since the resumption of office by Sir Robert Peel in 1841, the Free
Trade agitation had made immense advances, and one of the most gifted
champions of the cause, Mr. John Bright, had first appeared in
Parliament during the summer of 1843. It is probable that Mr. Bright
understood the whole case for Free Trade as well as Mr. Cobden himself;
and, even if his powers of exposition were not so irresistibly logical
and lucid as those of his friend, he had a power of passionate, and even
poetic, eloquence to which the other made no pretence, and which was
equally effective whether on a platform or in the House of Commons. We
have already seen that Sir Robert Peel was rapidly abandoning
Protection, and the Free Trade party naturally gained confidence and
vigour from so illustrious a convert. Their ideas had evidently taken
hold of the popular mind, excepting, strange to say, that section of the
people which had adopted the views of Chartism. Money to any amount
seemed at the command of the reformers, and in a commercial country like
England the possession of money is one of the best of arguments. On the
8th of May, 1845, an exhibition of agricultural products, implements,
&c., and also of manufactured articles, was opened in Covent Garden
Theatre, under the title of the Free Trade Bazaar. The whole of the pit
and stage was boarded over; at the close of the vista thus created was
an imitation painted window of the cathedral type; and the space thus
utilised, as distinguished from the public part of the house, was fitted
out as a Gothic Hall. The exhibition was open seventeen days, during
which time about 100,000 people visited the Bazaar, and the monetary
result was that £25,046 were added to the funds of the League. It is
thought that this Bazaar suggested the first idea of the Great
Exhibition which attracted the attention of the whole civilised world
six years later. Of course the Protectionists laughed at the whole thing
as theatrical; but it helped to familiarise Londoners with the idea of
Free Trade--an important fact, as London was at that time behind the
towns of the North in devotion to the new commercial policy. After May,
1845, the cause of Free Trade made rapid advances in the capital, and it
seemed almost like a race between the two great political parties as to
which should take it up.
Another circumstance which worked in favour of the reformers was the
rapid approach of the potato-disease in Ireland, which in the next two
years resulted in one of the most terrible famines known to modern
history. The condition of the potato crops began to attract serious
attention in the month of August, when indications of its existence were
visible, not only in Ireland, but in England. The evil, however, proved
far worse in the former than in the latter country. On the 13th of
October, Sir Robert Peel wrote to Sir James Graham:--“The accounts of
the state of the potato crop in Ireland are becoming very alarming. I
foresee the necessity that may be impressed upon us, at an early period,
of considering whether there is not that well-grounded apprehension of
actual scarcity that justifies and compels the adoption of every means
of relief which the exercise of the prerogative or legislation might
afford. I have no confidence in such remedies as the prohibition of
exports, or the stoppage of distilleries. The removal of impediments to
import is the only effectual remedy.” This was a clear advance towards
the adoption of Free Trade in corn, which Sir Robert had previously
resisted, and which he still postponed for several months. On the 31st
of October we find a meeting at Dublin representing to the Lord
Lieutenant that it had ascertained beyond a doubt that famine, and
consequent pestilence, were imminent, unless the Government should take
the most prompt measures to provide for the people by the distribution
of food. It was therefore requested that the ports of Ireland should be
opened for the importation of Indian corn, rice, and other articles of
consumption. Sir Robert Peel was already convinced that it was
impossible, under existing circumstances, to maintain restrictions on
the free import of grain; but he still hung back from taking a different
course, deterred, probably, by a doubt as to how far he could obtain a
majority in Parliament.
His hesitation in this respect, which was now beginning to be denounced
in Ireland in very emphatic terms, appeared to Lord John Russell to
offer a fitting opportunity for effecting the restoration of the Whigs
to office. By this time, Lord Melbourne had almost retired from public
life, and everybody knew that, if the Liberals again came into power,
the Premiership would fall to the most able, energetic, and resolute of
Melbourne’s lieutenants. Lord John Russell saw a great career before
him, and on the 22nd of November he addressed a letter from Edinburgh to
the electors of the City of London. It will be recollected that the Whig
statesman, shortly before the destruction of the Melbourne Cabinet, had
been in favour of a fixed, though a low, duty on corn, while his great
rival, Sir Robert Peel, had adopted what was known as the Sliding Scale.
The views of both leaders had altered since those days. Each had
abandoned his hobby; but Lord John Russell was the first to proclaim
unequivocally that he was a convert to the views of Mr. Cobden. In his
Edinburgh letter, he wrote:--“It is no longer worth while to contend for
a fixed duty. In 1841, the Free Trade party would have agreed to a duty
of 8s. per quarter on wheat, and after a lapse of years this duty might
have been further reduced, and ultimately abolished. But the imposition
of any duty at present, without a provision for its extinction within a
short period, would but prolong a contest already sufficiently fruitful
of animosity and discontent. Let us, then, unite to put an end to a
system which has been proved to be the blight of commerce, the bane of
agriculture, the source of bitter division amongst classes, the cause of
penury, fever, mortality, and crime among the people.”
The hesitation of Sir Robert Peel, though unfortunate both for himself
and the country, was scarcely avoidable under the circumstances. He
would have thrown open the ports at once by an Order in Council; but
several of his colleagues in the Government were opposed to such a
proceeding, and even to the adoption of any Free Trade policy whatever.
The publication of Lord John Russell’s letter, however, brought matters
to a crisis. It is true that by this time most of the objecting members
of the Administration had come round to the Premier’s view; but Peel
felt that he could not place himself in the position of adopting a
policy which his rival had so openly espoused. Convinced of his
inability, at that time, to carry out the Free Trade ideas which he
nevertheless saw to be inevitable. Sir Robert went to Osborne on the 5th
of December, 1845, and placed his resignation in the hands of her
Majesty. “I trust,” says the Conservative Minister in his Memoirs, “that
I satisfied the Queen that I was influenced by considerations of the
public interest, and not by fear of responsibility or of reproach, in
humbly tendering my resignation of office. Her Majesty was pleased to
accept it, with marks of confidence and approbation which, however
gratifying, made it a very painful act to replace in her Majesty’s hands
the trust she had confided in me.” The Queen then requested Lord John
Russell to form a Government; but, being still in Edinburgh, it was the
11th of December before that statesman could reach the south. He at once
undertook the task assigned to him; but, as some of his political
friends were disinclined to support the general lines of policy on which
he desired to enter, or were unable to agree among themselves, the
attempt ended in failure. Another difficulty resulted from the refusal
of Sir Robert Peel to give an unconditional promise that he would
support a measure for the total and immediate abolition of the Corn
Laws, though he was willing to assure Lord John that he and his friends
would abstain from any factious opposition.
On the 20th of December, Lord John Russell announced to her Majesty that
he was unable to form an Administration, and Sir Robert Peel was
immediately recalled to the Royal presence at Windsor Castle. On
entering the room, the Queen said to him very graciously, “So far from
taking leave of you, Sir Robert, I must require you to withdraw your
resignation.” She added that her late Minister might naturally require
time for reflection, and for communication with his colleagues, before
he gave a decisive answer. “I humbly advised her Majesty,” writes Sir
Robert Peel, “to permit me to decide at once upon the resumption of
office, and to enable me to announce to my late colleagues, on my return
to London, that I had not hesitated to reaccept the appointment of First
Minister.” He goes on to state that the Queen was pleased cordially to
approve of this suggestion, and he reached London on the evening of the
20th, once more invested with the functions of Prime Minister.
[Illustration: THE HOUSES OF PARLIAMENT.]
CHAPTER XII.
THE MINISTRY OF RENUNCIATION.
The _Times_ Reveals a Secret of State--Mr. Sidney Herbert and Mrs.
Norton and the _Times_--A Court Scandal--Peel’s Resignation--Lord
John Russell’s Failure to Form a Ministry--Peel Resumes Office--The
Ministry and the Queen--The Duke of Wellington and
Peel--Disintegration of the Tory Party--Croker’s Correspondence
with Wellington--Peel’s Instructions to the _Quarterly Review_--A.
Betrayed Editor--Peel and the Princess Lieven--Guizot’s Defence of
Peel--The Queen’s Conduct in the Great Crisis--How she Strengthened
the Position of the Crown--Her Popular Sympathies--Why Peel Changed
his Policy--The Potato Rot--Impending Famine--Distress in
England--The Campaign of the Free Traders--Scenes at their
Meetings--The Protectionist Agitation and the Agricultural
Labourers--Sufferings of the Poor--The Duke of Norfolk’s Curry
Powder--Meeting at Wootton Bassett--The Queen and the Sufferers.
It was on the 4th of December, 1845, that the _Times_ startled the world
by its celebrated leading article, beginning “The doom of the Corn Laws
is sealed.” This was the very earliest disclosure of that great act of
political renunciation which impending famine in Ireland had forced on
Sir Robert Peel. How the _Times_ came to discover, on the 4th of
December, that the Cabinet had broken up on the previous day, through
the obstinacy of Lord Stanley and the Duke of Buccleuch, was for a long
time a political mystery. It inspired what Lord Beaconsfield once called
“the babble of the boudoirs,” and the tittle-tattle of many clubs. It
was whispered that one very near the Royal person had divulged this
profound secret of State, a knowledge of which would have been worth a
king’s ransom on the Corn Exchange. Such surmises were entirely wrong.
So far as the Court knew, or guessed at the secret, it was kept
inviolate. It was understood that Mr. Sidney Herbert, the youngest of
Sir Robert Peel’s colleagues, on the evening of the 3rd of December
conveyed to Mrs. Norton (afterwards Lady Stirling Maxwell, of Keir) an
idea of what had happened in the Cabinet, and that she, in turn, carried
her gleanings from Mr. Herbert’s conversation to Mr. Delane, the editor
of the _Times_. The affair, it may be said in passing, has furnished Mr.
George Meredith with a striking incident in his story, “Diana of the
Crossways,” for the heroine of that romance has much in common with the
gifted _intrigante_, “whose bridal wreath was twined with weeds of
strife.” A more prosaic explanation, however, is supplied by Mr.
Greville. He asserts that Lord Aberdeen gave Mr. Delane a hint that the
Corn Law was doomed, his object being to conciliate America (which was
deeply interested in the export of corn) in view of the Oregon dispute,
which he was anxious to settle. It is hard to believe that a man of Lord
Aberdeen’s high sense of honour would, from such an inadequate motive,
violate his Ministerial oath, and betray the secrets of his chief.
Lord John Russell had failed, as has been said, to form his
Administration when the Cabinet of his rival broke up. Here it may now
be convenient to explain the reason of that failure, which he laid
before his disappointed Sovereign. On the morning of the 20th of
December, when Sir Robert Peel waited on the Queen at Windsor, and was
asked to withdraw his resignation, her Majesty had been disturbed by a
letter from Lord John Russell, stating that he must abandon all hopes of
forming a Ministry, because he had been unable “in one instance” to
secure indispensable support from his more prominent followers. Who were
the “prominent followers”? and who, “in one instance,” thwarted the
Leader of the Opposition in his effort to extricate the Queen, from the
difficulty in which she was entangled? The pragmatic “instance” was Lord
Grey, and his refusal to serve the country in the hour of need was a
matter not of principle but of personal feeling. Writing to Mr. J. F.
Macfarlan, Chairman of the Edinburgh Chamber of Commerce, on the 22nd of
December, 1845, Mr. (afterwards Lord) Macaulay told the whole story.
“You will have heard,” he says, “of the termination of our attempt to
form a Ministry. All our plans were frustrated by Lord Grey.... On my
own share in these transactions I reflect with unmixed satisfaction.
From the first I told Lord John that I stipulated for one thing only,
total and immediate Repeal. I would be as to all other matters
absolutely in his hands; that I would take any office, or no office,
just as it suited him best; and that he should never be disturbed by any
personal pretensions or jealousies on my part. If everybody else had
acted thus there would now have been a Liberal Ministry.” We now know
that Macaulay was mistaken. It was perfectly well known, not only to the
Queen, but to the chiefs of the great parties, that Lord John Russell
could never have carried Repeal, for two reasons. He was distrusted by
Free Traders like Cobden. It was impossible to expect that the House of
Lords, who threatened to revolt against Wellington, would accept Free
Trade from the Whigs, many of whom were eager to maintain a small fixed
duty on corn. All this was quite well understood at Court, and it
partially accounts for the unconcealed delight with which the Queen
asked Sir Robert Peel to withdraw his resignation. It was, moreover,
suspected at the time that the Court--always distrustful of Lord
Palmerston--privily sympathised with the feelings of Lord Grey, who
thought that the only office which Lord Palmerston was willing to
accept, was precisely the one in which he would do irretrievable
mischief. He had been Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, and
naturally he could not, with self-respect, serve another Whig Government
in an inferior capacity. But Lord Grey, though quite ready to serve with
Palmerston if he took some other Department, held that, if he went to
the Foreign Office, his pugnacity, combined with the hostile animus
which he had inspired in France, must, sooner or later, lead to a
disturbance of the peace of Europe. Lord Palmerston was, in truth, the
Mordecai sitting at the gate of the Whig Oligarchy, and then, as ever,
Lord Grey could only co-operate comfortably with a Ministry of Greys.
It was on the 20th December that Sir Robert Peel summoned his late
colleagues in Downing Street, to inform them that he had resumed office,
and to invite their assistance in abolishing the duties on foreign corn.
The conclave was depressed and downcast, for the situation was unique
and embarrassing. Lord Stanley, true to his imperious impulses,
persisted in resigning. He refused to believe that the destitution in
Ireland was so bad as it was painted by Peel, and it is but just to say
that his main reason for deserting his leader had no direct connection
with the effect of the Corn Laws on the price of food. The real interest
of the country, Lord Stanley contended, was to have a flourishing rural
population. That could only exist under the shadow of a territorial
aristocracy, maintained by a Corn Law which kept up rents, because it
kept up prices. No conscious self-interest seems to have tainted Lord
Stanley’s motives, and the same may be said of Cobden and the Free
Traders, who, on the other hand, believed that the world would gain by
the substitution of a commercial for a territorial aristocracy. The aim
of the Free Traders, in fact, was to rule the English people by an
oligarchy of rich manufacturers, thus “thrusting aside the nobles,” and
creating “a new policy specially adapted to the life of a great trading
community.”[18] Lord Stanley’s idea, however, was that the landed
interest had made England; that it gave her social stability and
military power; that it had won her battles by sea and land, and built
up her mighty fabric of empire. The Corn Laws he believed, quite
honestly, to be the
[Illustration: THE IRISH FAMINE: STARVING PEASANTS AT A WORKHOUSE
GATE.]
outworks of a great system of landlordism which gave the State a solid
basis. His firm conviction was that Mr. Cobden and the Leaguers were
eager to capture the outworks, that they might the more easily storm the
citadel. And this idea, too, was common to the Whigs, who were advocates
of a duty on corn, which, though small, was to be fixed. Through Lord
Melbourne they had taught the country and the Queen that a man must
[Illustration: LORD GEORGE BENTINCK.]
be mad who would dream of abolishing the Corn Laws--and they showed no
sign, as a Party, of wavering in that conviction till the 22nd of
November, 1845, when Lord John Russell sent the famous “Edinburgh
Letter” to his constituents in the City of London, abandoning Protection
once and for ever. It is but fair to remind a later generation of the
relation in which the two great Parties stood to the Corn Law, because
partisan writers often present an inadequate conception of the arduous
task which Peel set himself, when he undertook to abolish the Corn
Duties, in defiance of beliefs long rooted in the minds not only of the
people, but of the governing classes of England.
There is no denying the fact that the admirable behaviour of the Queen
throughout the epoch-marking Ministerial crisis of 1845-46 did a great
deal to restore the influence of the Crown as an operative factor in
English politics. Since the death of George IV. that influence had been
waning. Under William IV. it had been exercised, but without subtlety of
tact or breadth of sympathy; and therefore, when exercised, it was
somewhat rudely “abated” by the popular Party. Nothing was further from
Lord Melbourne’s heart than to turn the Queen into a Whig, for it is on
record that it was he who urged her to conciliate the Tories, and put
confidence in Peel, against whom she bore a grudge for opposing the
Parliamentary grant to the Prince Consort. Yet, in the early days of the
Queen’s reign, the influence of the Crown was not a popular influence,
because it was supposed that Melbourne had become a sort of Mayor of the
Palace, and had made the Sovereign the tool of Party. In the beginning
of 1846, however, we notice a remarkable change in public feeling on
this subject. There was then a growing belief, even among the Tories,
that their suspicions of Melbourne had been unwarrantable, and the
people ceased to fear that the Queen intended to base her Government on
a system of favouritism. It is of the utmost importance, says Edmund
Burke, “that the discretionary powers which are necessarily vested in
the monarch, whether for the execution of the laws or for the nomination
to magistracy or office, or for the conducting of the affairs of peace
and war, or for ordering the revenue, should all be exercised upon
public principles and national grounds, and not on the likings or
prejudices, the intrigues or fooleries, of a Court.”[19] This was really
the sound teaching which Melbourne had impressed on the Queen, and her
bearing in the crisis, which ended in Sir Robert Peel’s reassumption of
office, showed that she had been an apt pupil.
The Prince Consort was quick to notice the effect which her Majesty’s
unswerving fidelity to public interests at this time had produced on the
country. It was therefore with pardonable pride that he wrote to Baron
Stockmar[20] a curious letter, shrewdly pointing out that the crisis now
past had been of signal advantage to the Crown. The Queen had been seen
to remain calm and unmoved in the fierce and strident strife of
factions--the one stable element in the Constitution at a moment when no
other rallying point was visible to the nation. Albany Fonblanque, the
wittiest of the Radical journalists of that day, ridiculed, to the top
of his bent, the chiefs of the two great parties, whose petty rivalries
and personal jealousies had thrown public affairs into sad confusion.
They were, it must be confessed, rather like Rabelais’ giant, who,
though he habitually fed on windmills, choked on a pat of butter
swallowed the wrong way. But on behalf of the Radicals, Fonblanque, it
is interesting to notice now, had nothing but praise to bestow on the
Queen’s behaviour in the midst of the tragi-comedy of politics, which
was being enacted before the eyes of a famished people. “In all the
pranks and bunglings of the last three weeks,” he wrote, “there is one
part which, according to all report, has been played most
faultlessly--that of a Constitutional Sovereign. In the pages of history
the directness, the sincerity, the scrupulous observance of
Constitutional rule, which have marked her Majesty’s conduct in
circumstances the most trying, will have their place of honour. However
unused as we are to deal in homage to Royalty, we must add that never,
we believe, was the heart of a monarch so warmly devoted to the
interests of a people, and with so enlightened a sense of their
interests.”[21] The Continental tour of the Queen in 1845 had suggested
to the people that the personal influence of the Sovereign might, if
adroitly used, be of great service to the State in conciliating foreign
nations, whose goodwill it would be advantageous to secure. Her conduct
in the Ministerial crisis of 1845-46, however, convinced them that, if
intelligently directed, the personal influence of the Queen, in domestic
politics, might also be rendered not less beneficial to her subjects and
her empire.
But at the meeting in Downing Street which terminated this momentous
crisis, Lord Stanley, whose place was on his resignation promptly filled
by Mr. Gladstone, was the only ex-Minister who had the courage of his
opinions. The Duke of Buccleuch ceased to resist the logic of facts. The
Duke of Wellington, who had wavered very much, finally cast in his lot
with Peel--to the amazement of all his old friends, especially of Mr.
John Wilson Croker. Mr. Croker had been induced by Sir Robert Peel,
whilst on a visit to Drayton Manor in September, 1845, to attack the
Anti-Corn-Law League in the _Quarterly Review_, and, angry at what he
deemed his betrayal, he somewhat peremptorily demanded explanations from
the Duke. His Grace simply wrote to him saying that he felt it his duty
to stand by the Queen. This, in his view, implied that he must support
the Minister who alone seemed able to carry on her Majesty’s Government,
which he (Wellington), as “a retained servant of the Crown,” could not
bring himself to hand over to “the League and the Radicals.”[22] Croker,
however, retorted, in a letter to Sir Henry Hardwicke, that Peel had
done something quite as bad as that: “he has,” wrote the indignant
reviewer, “broken up the old interests, divided the great families, and
commenced just such a revolution as the Noailles and Montmorencies did
in 1789.” But the Iron Duke was proof against all such appeals. He
entrenched himself behind his favourite doctrine that he was primarily a
servant of her Majesty. Her interests, he told the House of Lords, were
of more importance than the opinion of any individual about the Corn Law
or any other law. At the same time, he did not pretend to relish the
situation. As he said--with a rough soldier’s oath--to Lord Beaumont,
“it _is_ a ---- mess, but I must look to the peace of the country and the
Queen.”[23] In private he told Lord Stanley that he was against the
policy which Peel had adopted. In public, however, referring to Peel’s
conversion, he said, in the House of Lords:--“I applauded the conduct of
my right hon. friend. I was delighted with it. It was exactly the course
I should have followed under similar circumstances, and I therefore
determined to stand by him.” The Duke’s strong personal loyalty to his
young Queen had, in fact, first transformed him into a Conservative
Opportunist, and then his own common sense led him to recognise the
necessity for abandoning laws that made bread dear to an enfranchised
but starving populace.
From the sketch now given of the ferment of public opinion, produced by
a war between two powerful classes for political predominance in 1846,
one thing must be self-evident. In view of the authority and influence
of the Duke of Wellington in the House of Lords, it was fortunate for
Sir Robert Peel that the quick and generous sympathies of the Queen,
whose tender heart was touched by the sufferings of the poor, were
entirely with him all through this trying time. Her Majesty may
therefore claim some share in the great work that crowned her Minister’s
career with honour--for she strengthened his hands by the confidence she
displayed in his judgment, when his oldest friends forsook him. The
Queen knew well that it was with no light heart, and for no trivial
cause, that Peel abandoned, not the creed--for, like Mr. Huskisson, he
had always been a Free Trader in principle[24]--but the policy of
levying exceptional duties on foreign corn. Much blame has been cast on
Sir Robert Peel for giving up that policy almost immediately after he
had won place and power by pledging himself to maintain it. Certainly,
after the revelations made in the Croker Papers, it is difficult in some
respects to justify his conduct. It is indeed regrettable that those to
whom his memory ought to be precious, have not deemed it expedient to
explain away the instructions which he gave Mr. Croker, as editor of the
_Quarterly_, in September, 1845. M. Guizot[25] has, however, defended
Peel from the charges of base tergiversation which, to the annoyance of
the Queen, were pressed against him in the fierce and fiery invectives
of Mr. Disraeli, and in the passionate but somewhat incoherent harangues
of Lord George Bentinck. As the French statesman was on terms of
intimacy not only with Peel, but with many of his colleagues, his
opinion must be received with respect. According to M. Guizot, all
through 1845 Sir Robert Peel was in a condition of painful and “touching
perplexity” as to his duty in view of the spread of destitution. This
perplexity, M. Guizot contends, was that not of a sordid placeman, but
of “a sincere and conscientious mind carried forward in the direction of
its own inclination by a great flood of public opinion and passion, and
struggling painfully against its adversaries, its friends, and itself.”
When the Queen met Sir Robert Peel with a smile on the 20th of December,
and said “she was glad to be able to ask him to withdraw his
resignation,” she was, according to this theory, really lifting a cloud
of gloom from his anxious head, and congratulating him on the ending of
that state of suspense in which his troubled mind had been painfully
poised. It may be a
[Illustration: THE DEPUTATION FROM LONDON AND DUBLIN CORPORATIONS BEFORE
THE QUEEN. (_See p. 216._)]
coincidence, but in corroboration of M. Guizot’s view we must note that
a sigh of relief echoes through the letter in which the careworn
Minister, six days after he resumed office, informed the Princess Lieven
of the fact. “However unexpected is the turn which affairs have taken,
it is,” he writes, “for the best. I resume power with greater means of
rendering public service than I should have had if I had relinquished
it. But it is a strange dream!”[26]
Yet, if one considers for a moment the great process of political
evolution over which the Queen was from her girlhood called on to
preside, one finds nothing really miraculous in the dream. It was merely
a phase of the beatific vision of a partially enfranchised democracy,
which for the moment dazed all sorts and conditions of men. The late
Lord Dalling, who lived through this stirring epoch of bloodless
revolution, says that “previous to the Reform Bill and the Municipality
Bills, everybody in England _looked up_: the ambitious young man looked
up to the great nobleman for a seat in Parliament; the ambitious
townsman to the chief men in his borough for a place in the Corporation.
Subsequently to these measures, men desirous to elevate their position
_looked down_. The aristocratic tendency of other days had thus become
almost suddenly a democratic one. This democratic tendency, which has
gone on increasing, had made itself already visible at the period when
the Corn Law agitation began. It had been natural until then to consider
this subject relative to the interests of the upper classes; it was now
becoming natural to consider it in relation to the interests of the
lower classes. The question presented itself in a perfectly different
point of view, and politicians found, somewhat to their surprise, that
all former arguments had lost their force. It was this change in the
spirit of the times which had occasioned within such a very few years a
total change in the manner of looking at matters affected by the
Legislature.”[27] Lord Beaconsfield’s apologists sometimes say that what
embittered him against the capitalists of the Anti-Corn-Law League, was
his conviction that though they had the cry of cheap bread on their
lips, the whisper of low wages was at their hearts. The wage-rate, no
doubt, had a potent influence in recasting public opinion at this time.
But it did not recast it in the Disraelitish mould. The working classes
discovered, through the lucid teaching of Cobden, that wages did not
fall because the Corn duty was low, and that they did not rise because
it was high. When they made that discovery, the only argument that could
protect Protection in a reformed Parliament vanished from the minds of
men who were not partisans of the patrician order. Politicians of calm
and enlightened judgment felt, as they felt the air they breathed, that
public opinion in 1845-46 was becoming more and more hostile to the Corn
Laws. The Queen and the _entourage_ of the Court, then greatly under the
influence of Baron Stockmar, who was in constant communication with
Prince Albert, were evidently among the first to become sensitive to the
change, but like Peel, Wellington, and Russell, they frankly
acknowledged what must follow from it.
England was in truth all through 1845 moving fast to that “total and
immediate repeal” of the Corn Laws which Cobden demanded, and the county
gentry, Whig as well as Tory, equally dreaded. When Russell and Peel
were in fact waiting for what Prince Bismarck calls “the psychological
moment” to proclaim the new departure, the “psychological moment” came
with the terrible incident which caused the spectre of famine to stalk
over Ireland. That incident was the failure of the potato crop, and it
removed the question of the Corn Laws far away from the battle-ground of
rival political or economic theories. The problem was no longer one of
maintaining or abandoning a territorial system. At the beginning of 1846
it became a question of deciding whether so many hundred thousand of our
fellow-creatures in Ireland should perish in the agonies of hunger, or
whether, by removing the Corn duty, her Majesty’s Government at one blow
would strike down the barrier that prevented bread from reaching the
lips of a starving peasantry. For the wretched cotters in Ireland the
winter of 1845-46 was, truly, one of extreme privation. “Those who had
savings,” writes Mr. Greg,[28] “lived off them, but among the really
poor there was widespread destitution.” Forced to sell their clothes for
food, the Irish peasantry refused to pay rent, and when rent was
extorted by harsh process of law, retaliatory outrages immediately
followed. The ghastly outlook in Ireland gave the Anti-Corn-Law
agitators welcome leverage for their movement in England, and they
increased their activity every day. Lord John Russell, on the 22nd of
November, 1845, wrote the Edinburgh Letter to the electors of the City
of London, warning them that the Whig Party, in view of the state of the
country, were ready to put an end to a system which had been proved to
be the blight of commerce and the bane of agriculture. This, we have
seen, forced Peel’s hands. As Mr. Bright said to Lord John, whom he met,
after the issue of his manifesto, on the platform of a railway station
in Yorkshire, “Your letter has made total and immediate repeal
inevitable; nothing can save it” (the Corn Law).[29] Peel himself did
not conceal from the Queen that he could perhaps keep the Whigs at bay
for three years, and shortly before his death he told Cobden the same
thing. But neither the monarch nor her Minister dared to procrastinate
in the face of popular destitution, and they felt compelled to obey, no
matter at what cost or sacrifice, the dictates of reason and humanity.
For it was not from Ireland only that the moan of a suffering people
broke upon the ear of a sorrowing Queen. It is true that the venal and
factious press of that country at first attempted to deceive the world
by denying the existence of wide-spreading potato-rot in the island.
With the cries of the dying ringing in their ears, Irish journalists
disputed with each other as to whether there actually was any famine in
the land. But the facts could not long be concealed, either from the
people or from the Queen. At the end of September, 1845, it had to be
generally admitted that the staple food of Ireland had suddenly
disappeared, and that even in England only the northern counties had
escaped from the potato-disease. To such an extent did the rest of
England suffer, that Professor Lindley declared there was hardly a sound
potato to be found in Covent Garden Market.[30] As Lord Beaconsfield has
observed, “This mysterious but universal sickness of a single root
changed the history of the world.”[31]
The Corporations of London and Dublin, on the 3rd of January, 1846,
memorialised the Queen on the subject. Their deputations, who waited on
her at Windsor, received from her a gracious and sympathetic reply to
their statements, which she heard with manifest interest. The
Anti-Corn-Law League felt that it would be good policy to turn the
prevailing distress to account, and it immediately renewed, with
redoubled vigour, its agitation against the duties that kept up the
price of bread. Its leaders organised a series of meetings all over
England and Scotland, and although the Chartists rather held aloof from
them, the Free Trade speakers at last fairly touched the heart of the
nation. Extraordinary scenes of enthusiasm took place at these meetings.
In the last week of 1845, at a meeting in Manchester, it was suggested
to raise a quarter of a million pounds sterling to help the agitation
that must strengthen Peel’s hands,[32] and Mr. John Morley has described
how men jumped up from their seats and cried out, one after the other,
“A thousand pounds for me!” “A thousand pounds for us!” and so on, till
in less than two hours £60,000 were subscribed on the spot.[33] Of
course, all this fervour provoked a movement on the other side. The
Protectionists organised a counter agitation, but it was very badly
managed. The speakers selected were persons, of high rank and ample
fortune. But they lacked sympathy and sense, and this defect was fatal
to their cause. Their favourite argument was that there was no famine at
all to fear, and they revelled in demonstrating to people who had
nothing to eat, that their continued prosperity depended on the
maintenance of a Corn Law which made bread dear. The Duke of Norfolk
covered the Protectionist agitation with odium and ridicule, by
suggesting that if haply here and there a labouring man felt hungry, he
might derive great benefit by taking at night, just before bed-time, a
pinch of curry-powder as a comforting stomachic. The satirists of the
Radical party made affluent use of this egregious imbecility, and the
_Examiner_[34] promptly printed a poem headed “Comfort and Curry,” in
which the Duke and Duchess were cruelly quizzed.
What contributed most to strengthen Sir Robert Peel was the agitation
among the agricultural labourers. It was very difficult to resist such
an appeal as theirs, when they pointed to their gaunt forms, and wan and
haggard faces, and said, “Behold this is the result of the Protection
that is kept up for our benefit.” They held meetings, in the beginning
of 1846, in various parts of the country, and from the speeches at these
we get a vivid idea of the sad condition of the English people at this
time. One gathering may be cited as typical. It was held by some two
hundred starvelings, who met in fear--for the gentry frowned upon the
movement--on a bleak winter’s night, by the light of a clouded moon and
a few flaring candles at a cross-road near Wootton Bassett. The chairman
said he had six shillings a week, on which he
[Illustration: MEETING OF AGRICULTURAL LABOURERS AT WOOTTON BASSETT.
(_See p. 216._)]
had to keep his wife and two children, and he complained that it was not
half enough for them to live on. Another speaker, one William Burchall,
said, “that though their wages had risen within the last few months a
shilling a week, bread had risen two shillings, so that the difference
was against them. He was past forty years of age, and he could say that
he had never purchased a pound of good slaughtered beef fit to be
carried into the market. As to mutton, he had purchased a little of
that, but never as much as would average a pound a year in forty years.
He knew what veal was, but never had any at all.” Another man said that,
during thirty-nine weeks, ending 10th of June, 1844, he had earned only
£5 19s. 8d., or 3s. 1d. a week; and that but for getting a little land
to rent from Lord Carnarvon, he and his wife and eight children would
have starved. His house rent came to £4 a year, and his bread bill alone
came to from 7s. 7d. to 8s. 8d. a week. Another man said that he had so
little bread to eat that he got weak, and was then discharged as unfit
for service. James Pegler complained he had been “hunted down” under the
Poor Laws, having been, with his wife and family, forced into the
workhouse, and separated from them for eleven months. At last, he was
turned away to get work, and because he went out of the district to find
it, he was taken before the magistrate, charged with desertion, and sent
to prison for a month. “God bless my heart and life,” exclaimed this
poor creature, “I never see’d such a go, to be sure, as how I was
served. I know enough of starvation and misery to make me say ‘God send
us Free Trade.’” At this meeting the labourers declared they were
thankful that Providence had put it out of the power of Government “to
write taxation on the bosom of the streams and rivulets that were so
bountifully spread around their neighbourhood.”[35] They were
unconsciously illustrating the wisdom of Paul Louis Courier, who once
said that the rich are grateful to Providence for what it gives--the
poor, for what it leaves them.
The Queen, it has been reported, was deeply affected by these
demonstrations of suffering. It is said that she will never forget, as
long as she lives, that she began her reign when the wealth and power of
England were waning. She was, on her accession to the throne, the object
of the most chivalrous devotion that any Queen could inspire. Yet, when
crowned, the tears fell from her eyes, as she thought of her own
responsibility in the midst of a nation sinking deeper and deeper into
destitution, and plunging deeper and deeper into debt. Mrs. Browning,
when she read the account of her Majesty’s coronation, gave apt
expression to the popular hopes that were raised by the significance
which the people instinctively attached to this incident of the
ceremony.
“God save thee, weeping Queen!
Thou shalt be well beloved;
The tyrant’s sceptre cannot move
As those pure tears have moved!
The nature in thy eyes we see
Which tyrants cannot own;
The love that guardeth liberties,
Strange blessing on the nation lies,
Whose Sovereign wept;
Yea, wept to wear a crown.”
As if in fulfilment of the hopes which the Queen’s conduct and bearing
since her accession had inspired, a happier day was now dawning. There
was every prospect that content would now gladden the reign that began
in sorrow and in tears. The partial relaxation of the Protective tariff
during the last three years had brought hope to the heart of the
Sovereign, for it was certainly followed by some amelioration in the lot
of her subjects. Her Majesty was profoundly impressed by Sir Robert
Peel’s inferences from the success of this experimental loosening of the
shackles on commerce. She was, therefore, naturally inclined to give the
weight of her artless sympathies and “sweet counsel” to a new departure
in fiscal policy, that promised to “make Plenty smile on the cheek of
Toil.” The opening of the Parliamentary Session of 1846 was, therefore,
to the Queen no mere formal or ordinary ceremony of State. It was, in
her opinion, and in the opinion of the Prince Consort, the initiation of
a “bloodless revolution,” and the closing of a distinct epoch in the
history of Party Government.
[Illustration: DOG’S HEAD.
(_Drawn and Etched by the Prince Consort._)]
CHAPTER XIII.
THE FREE TRADE PARLIAMENT.
Opening of Parliament in 1846--The Queen’s Speech--The Debate on
the Address--Sir Robert Peel’s Statement--Mr. Disraeli’s
Philippics--Bishop Wilberforce on Peel’s Reception by the House of
Commons--Peel’s Mistake--Lord George Bentinck’s Attack on the
Prince Consort--The Queen’s Explanations--The Court and the
Peelites--The Corn Bill in the House of Lords--Lord Stanley’s
Political Dinner-Party--The Duke of Wellington and the
Peers--Triumph in the Lords and Defeat in the Commons--Peel’s
Coercion Bill for Ireland--A Factious Opposition--Fall of the
Government--Lord Aberdeen’s adroit Diplomacy--The Oregon
Controversy and its Settlement--The Government’s Policy in
India--War in the Punjab--Victories over the Sikhs--Resignation of
the Ministry--The Queen’s Farewell to Peel--Her Suggestion of a
Coalition--Wellington and Cobden advise Peel to dissolve--Reasons
for his Refusal--The Queen and the Duke of Wellington--The Duke’s
Letter to Lord John Russell--Lyndhurst and
Reconstruction--Disintegration of the Tory Party--The Peelites in
Opposition--A Hint from Aristophanes--Tory Persecution of Peel.
It was on the 19th of January, 1846,[36] that the Queen opened in person
the Parliament which revolutionised the commercial policy of England,
and transferred the political centre of gravity from the territorial to
the commercial aristocracy of the country. The Royal procession was
formed at Buckingham Palace in the usual order. Her Majesty and Prince
Albert descended the grand staircase shortly before two o’clock, the
Queen wearing a lustrous diamond circlet on her fair white brow. The
Prince was habited in a Field-Marshal’s uniform, and the orders of the
Garter and Golden Fleece shone on his breast. The State coach with its
eight cream-coloured horses then drove with the Royal party to the
Palace of the Legislature, and as her Majesty passed through the densely
crowded Royal Gallery it was seen that she was labouring under deep but
suppressed emotion.
From the Throne she read, in clear but thrilling tones, the following
speech:--
“_My Lords and Gentlemen_,--
“It gives me great satisfaction again to meet you in Parliament,
and to have the opportunity of recurring to your assistance and
advice.
“I continue to receive from my allies, and from other foreign
Powers, the strongest assurances of the desire to cultivate the
most friendly relations with this country.
“I rejoice that, in concert with the Emperor of Russia, and through
the success of our joint mediation, I have been enabled to adjust
the differences which have long prevailed between the Ottoman Porte
and the King of Persia, and had seriously endangered the
tranquillity of the East.
“For several years a desolating and sanguinary warfare has
afflicted the States of the Rio de la Plata. The commerce of all
nations has been interrupted, and acts of barbarity have been
committed unknown to the practice of a civilised people. In
conjunction with the King of the French I am endeavouring to effect
the pacification of these States.
“The Convention concluded with France in the course of last year,
for the more effectual suppression of the Slave Trade, is about to
be carried into immediate execution by the active co-operation of
the two Powers on the coast of Africa. It is my desire that our
present union, and the good understanding which so happily exists
between us, may always be employed to promote the interests of
humanity, and to secure the peace of the world.
[Illustration: THE QUEEN OPENING PARLIAMENT IN 1846.]
[Illustration: OPENING OF PARLIAMENT IN 1846: ARRIVAL OF THE ROYAL
PROCESSION AT THE HOUSE OF LORDS. (_See p. 220._)]
“I regret that the conflicting claims of Great Britain and the
United States, in respect of the territory on the north-western
coast of America, although they have been made the subject of
repeated negotiation, still remain unsettled. You may be assured
that no effort, consistent with national honour, shall be wanting
on my part to bring this question to an early and peaceful
termination.
* * * * *
“_Gentlemen of the House of Commons_,--
“The estimates for the year will be laid before you at an early
period. Although I am deeply sensible of the importance of
enforcing economy in all branches of the expenditure, yet I have
been compelled, by a due regard to the exigencies of the Public
Service, and to the state of our Naval and Military establishments,
to propose some increase in the estimates which provide for their
efficiency.
* * * * *
“_My Lords and Gentlemen_,--
“I have observed with great regret the frequent instances in which
the crime of deliberate assassination has been of late committed in
Ireland. It will be for you only to consider whether any measures
can be devised calculated to give increased protection to life, and
to bring to justice the perpetrators of so dreadful a crime.
“I have to lament that in consequence of a failure of the potato
crop in many parts of the United Kingdom there will be a deficient
supply of an article of food which forms the chief subsistence of
great numbers of my people. The disease by which the plant has been
affected has prevailed to the utmost extent in Ireland. I have
adopted all such precautions as it was in my power for the purpose
of alleviating the sufferings which may be caused by this calamity;
and I shall confidently rely on your co-operation in devising such
other means for effecting the same benevolent purpose as may
require the sanction of the Legislature.
“I have had great satisfaction in giving my assent to the measures
which you have presented to me from time to time, calculated to
extend commerce, and to stimulate domestic skill and industry, by
the repeal of prohibitory and the relaxation of protective duties.
The prosperous state of the revenue, the increased demand for
labour, and the general improvement which has taken place in the
internal conditions of the country are strong testimonies in favour
of the course you have pursued.
“I recommend you to take into your early consideration, whether the
principles on which you have acted may not with advantage be more
extensively applied, and whether it may not be in your power, after
a careful review of the existing duties on many articles, the
produce of manufacture of other countries, to make such further
reductions and remissions as may tend to ensure the continuance of
the great benefits to which I have adverted, and, by enlarging our
commercial intercourse, to strengthen the bonds of amity with
Foreign Powers.
“Any measures which you may adopt for effecting these great objects
will, I am convinced, be accompanied by such precautions as shall
prevent permanent loss to the revenue, or injurious results to any
of the great interests of the country.
“I have full reliance on your just and dispassionate consideration
of matters so deeply affecting the public welfare.
“It is my earnest prayer that, with the blessing of Divine
Providence on your councils, you may be enabled to promote friendly
feelings between different classes of my subjects, to provide
additional security for the continuance of peace, and to maintain
contentment and happiness at home, by increasing the comfort and
bettering the condition of the great body of my people.”
When the Queen retired, then the difficulty of some of our
Constitutional forms became apparent. It was remarked at the time that,
had her Majesty suddenly come down in the middle of the Session, and,
usurping the functions of Ministers, laid a startling project of
legislation before Parliament, she could not have found herself more
thoroughly the mover of a controversial Bill than, in spite of herself,
she had become that afternoon. Every caution had been exercised, it will
be observed, in keeping all mention of the Corn duties out of the Royal
Speech. Yet, within a few hours after it was read, the two Houses were
engaged in an acrimonious debate, not on the guarded generalities of the
Address from the Throne, but on the proposal for the total and immediate
Repeal of the Corn Laws. The Queen’s Speech, looked at apart from the
events of the day, might seem to recommend something less than that. But
it was that, and nothing less, which was in men’s minds and hearts, and
for once in our Parliamentary history the Debate on the Address was not
a barren criticism of the general policy of the Government, but really a
sharp discussion on a special measure foreshadowed dimly in the Royal
Speech.
The story of the Parliamentary Session of 1846, in its bearing on the
fate of the Corn Law Bill, has been so ably told both by Dr. Cooke
Taylor, in his “Life and Times of Sir Robert Peel,” and by Mr. John
Morley, in his “Life of Cobden,” that it is hardly necessary here to do
more than glance at its salient points. In the House of Lords the debate
on the Address was brief and bitter--at least as bitter as the Duke of
Richmond, who assailed Sir Robert Peel, could make it. But in the House
of Commons the proceedings were more exciting. Lord Francis Egerton
(afterwards Earl of Ellesmere) moved, and Mr. Beckett Denison, who had
driven Lord Morpeth out of his seat for the West Riding, because his
Lordship had joined the Anti-Corn-Law League, seconded the Address. Sir
Robert Peel followed, and vindicated his change of policy, resting the
chief strength of his case on his own observations, first, of the effect
of the gradual relaxation of Protective duties which he had tried, and
secondly, on the failure of the potato crop--a report on which had been
drawn up for him by Professor Lindley and Dr. Lyon Playfair. It was in
this speech that he intimated he was at first prepared to suspend the
Corn Law by an Order in Council, but that his colleagues objected to
that course on the ground that, if once opened to foreign corn, the
ports could never again be closed. Lord John Russell followed, and
explained how he had failed to form a Ministry; and then Lord George
Bentinck, waiving his right as leader of the Protectionists to reply,
put up Mr. Disraeli to deliver one of the first of those violent
philippics against Peel which gave him a unique reputation as a
Parliamentary _sabreur_. What could the House think of a statesman, he
asked, who having, as he had boasted, served four sovereigns, was
finally compelled, by the observations of the last three years, to
change his opinion on a subject which had been discussed in his hearing
from every conceivable point of view during a quarter of a century? He
likened him to the Capitan Pasha of the Sultan, who, on the plea that he
hated a war, ended it by going over to the enemy, and betraying his
Imperial master. Peel’s speech, said Mr. Disraeli, was “a glorious
example of egotistical rhetoric.” He was “no more a great statesman than
a man who got up behind a carriage was a great whip. Both were anxious
for progress, and both wanted a good place.” It was a brilliant,
dazzling, witty harangue, and it caught the humour, not of the betrayed
Protectionists merely, but to some extent of the House also. Looking
back on Peel’s speech now, one can detect a false note in it. Dr. Samuel
Wilberforce, Bishop of Oxford, who went to hear the debate, in a letter
to Miss Noel, says that the Prime Minister’s statement was received with
“a kind of thundering sullenness.”[37] He unconsciously irritated the
House by his assumption that the case for the Corn Laws must needs fall
after he had personally put the matter to the test of a three years’
[Illustration: ST. STEPHEN’S CLOISTERS, WESTMINSTER HALL.]
experiment. It lessened the grace of his submission to events and facts,
when he argued as if the observations and experiments and researches of
all the greatest economists in the world during a score of years were
not in any sense conclusive till verified by Sir Robert Peel. And all
through the debates, it is quite clear that he contrived to embitter his
opponents by seeming to talk down to them. His tone was that of one who
thought they were rather to be pitied than blamed, because they could
not understand that if three years had sufficed to change the opinion of
their leader, three minutes ought to suffice for the conversion of his
followers. One crisis and one set of circumstances hardly convinced
men, whose class interests were at stake, that Protection was wrong,
especially after Sir Robert
[Illustration: LORD STANLEY (AFTERWARDS FOURTEENTH EARL OF DERBY).]
Peel himself had taught them to disregard the experience of a quarter of
a century. Peel, when he showed how keenly he felt Mr. Disraeli’s
sarcasms, failed to remember that the arrows which stung him came from
his own quiver.
A few days after the Session opened, Sir Robert Peel, in explaining his
plan for getting rid of the Corn duties, made it clear that Repeal was
to be total, but not immediate. Writing to Mrs. Cobden on the 28th of
January, Cobden says:--“Peel is at last delivered, but I hardly know
whether to call it a boy or a girl. Something between the two, I
believe. His Corn measure makes an end of all Corn laws in 1849, and in
the meantime it is virtually a fixed duty of 4s. He has done more than
was expected of him, and all but the right thing.” As a matter of fact,
there was to be a sliding scale till 1849, the maximum duty being 10s.
when wheat was under 48s. a quarter, and the minimum duty being 4s. when
wheat was 54s. a quarter. On the 2nd of March, when the House went into
Committee on the resolution, Mr. Villiers’ amendment, insisting on
immediate, as well as total, Repeal, was lost by a large majority, and
on the 11th of May the Corn Bill reached the third reading. The debate
lasted three nights, and at 4 a.m. on the 16th it was passed by a
majority of 98 in a House of 516.
Before tracing the subsequent stages of this controversy, it may not be
amiss to allude to one of the most curious incidents that marked its
progress. On the 27th of January, when Sir Robert Peel’s resolutions
embodying his financial policy came before the House of Commons, the
presence of Prince Albert in the gallery, as a spectator of the scene,
roused the jealousy and wrath of the Tories. Lord George Bentinck, in
the course of the debate, waved his hand excitedly towards his Royal
Highness, and accused him of being “seduced by the First Minister of the
Crown to come down to this House to usher in, to give _éclat_, and, as
it were, by reflection from the Queen, to give the semblance of a
personal sanction of her Majesty to a measure which, be it for good or
evil, a great majority at least of the landed, aristocracy of England,
of Scotland, and of Ireland, imagine fraught with deep injury, if not
ruin, to them.” This was an insinuation at once ridiculous and unjust.
The truth is that the Queen, from her girlhood, has had a somewhat
exaggerated idea of the instructive value of Parliamentary debates. She
is to this day an ardent student of all Parliamentary reports. She has
the true Parliamentary instinct peculiar to England and English-speaking
communities which leads them to take a strange but genuine delight in
Parliamentary discussion. Indeed, she has been known to tell her
Ministers not only what she thought of a particular debate, but how she
herself would have handled the subject-matter of it had she been a
member of the House of Commons; in fact, it was in replying to a
communication of this kind that Lord Palmerston once observed, in the
felicitous vein of a courtier, that it was a lucky thing for Ministers
who had the misfortune to differ from her Majesty, that they had not to
answer her arguments in Parliament. Under the influence of these ideas,
the Queen naturally induced Prince Albert to attend the great historic
debate of the 14th of January--“to hear a fine debate,” as she herself
has said, “being so useful to all princes.”[38] Party feeling, however,
ran so high in 1846, that Lord George Bentinck and the Tory
Protectionists put the worst construction on a perfectly innocent act.
The Prince Consort simply went to listen to the discussion, just as the
Prince of Wales and his son went to hear Mr. Gladstone introduce his
Government of Ireland Bill in the House of Commons on the 8th of April,
1886; and it is a mark of the sweetened temper of political life in
these latter days that not only did no Tory complain of the Prince’s
presence on that occasion, but nobody even resented the kid-glove
plaudits with which the young Prince Albert Victor, with the generous
but irrepressible enthusiasm of youth, greeted Mr. Gladstone’s stately
and impressive peroration.[39] Lord George Bentinck’s attack on the
Prince Consort was deficient alike in tact and taste; but it is only
fair to say that there was the shadow of an excuse for it. It had been
whispered that the Court had become Peelite--and the rumour was not
without foundation in fact. The Prince Consort reflected its sympathies
quite accurately when he wrote to Baron Stockmar, on the 16th of
February, that Peel was “abused like the most disgraceful criminal,”
adding not only that factions would combine to crush him--as they
did--but that this “would be a great misfortune.”
In the House of Lords the course of the Corn Bill was comparatively
smooth. Lord Stanley took the leadership of the Protectionists, but the
disintegration of parties was complete. Nothing illustrates this better
than a caustic remark which Lord Stanley threw out at a great political
dinner-party at his house, two days after the Bill had been passed by
the Commons. On that occasion he said, scoffingly, that it was most
diverting to see a Liberal like Lord Bessborough whipping up the Bishops
to support the Duke of Wellington on a Free Trade question.[40] In the
Upper House the opposition to the Bill virtually collapsed. Lord
Stanley, when argumentative, was tame, and, when personal, vituperative.
The ablest of the Bishops, in the name of the Church, repudiated the
idea that the Protectionist policy had benefited the rural poor; and
Wilberforce distinguished himself, especially, by his graphic picture of
the sufferings which the agricultural labourers were enduring. The Duke
of Wellington, however, decided the matter by telling the Peers that
they would be wise to bow to public opinion with a good grace, and not
commit themselves to a struggle between the Crown and the people. But he
was hardly candid in pretending that the Crown in this matter was
opposed to the people. This idea can be disproved by an extract from
that remarkable letter in which the Queen, in speaking of Peel’s
resumption of office, eulogises his chivalrous behaviour towards
herself, and adds, with unaffected sincerity, “I have never seen him so
excited and determined, and such a good cause _must_ succeed.”[41] The
Lords, however, acting on the Duke’s advice, only engaged in a sham
fight, and the final stage of the Bill passed without debate or
division. The night on which Peel’s triumph in the Lords was announced
was the night on which, however, his Ministry fell in the Commons. It
was the night on which a combination of factions, as the Prince Consort
had predicted, rejected what was called the Coercion Bill for Ireland,
and wrecked the most popular Cabinet that ever governed England.
It has already been said that the unruly state of Ireland had been
[Illustration: SIR JAMES GRAHAM.]
aggravated by famine, and that evictions, following refusal of rent, had
been avenged by outrages. In the Queen’s Speech it had been indicated
that measures to restore order in Ireland would be framed; but it was
not till the end of June that a Coercion Bill was brought forward in the
House of Commons for second reading. This was the Bill which was fatal
to the Ministry. According to an old legend of the Moslems, a good angel
and a bad angel walk on either side of a man all through life, and Lord
Balling has very justly observed that, whilst Free Trade was the good
angel of Peel’s Administration, its bad angel was Coercion for Ireland.
The introduction of a Coercion Bill for Ireland, after the safety of the
Corn Law Bill was assured, was taken as a plausible pretext for
dissolving the alliance between the Whigs and the Government. It was
regarded by the Protectionists as an excellent opportunity for punishing
the Ministers for deserting them. Perhaps, if the truth were known, it
was regarded by Sir Robert Peel himself as a good field in which to meet
a defeat that was
[Illustration: VIEW IN OREGON: THE COLUMBIA RIVER AND MOUNT HOOD.]
inevitable, and which would send him into the retirement for which
latterly he had begun to crave. A great deal has been said and written
as to the reasons which induced the various parties to form combinations
against the Administration that had done the State such noble service.
The motives of its enemies, however, were simple enough. The
Protectionists had what they called their “betrayal” to avenge; the
Whigs considered that Peel had behaved most ungenerously to the
Melbourne Ministry, whose conciliatory Irish policy, as worked out by
Lord Normanby and Mr. Drummond, had promised well for that country. They
firmly believed that if they were in power they could control Ireland
by kindness, but that in applying such a policy, they did not dare to
trust as a colleague the Minister who had so unscrupulously overthrown
Lord Melbourne. A union between Peel and Lord John Russell, such as the
Queen desired to bring about, was also impossible for another
reason--Peel would not part company with Sir James Graham. Lord John
Russell, on the other hand, would not consent to act with Sir James,
whom the Whigs detested as an unforgivable renegade. The Coercion Bill
for Ireland was therefore doomed from the outset, not on its merits, but
by party passion. This was so strong, that the Whigs in the House of
Lords, as if to give Peel warning of his fate, actually combined with
the Protectionists to defeat Lord Lyndhurst’s Charitable Trusts Bill,
although it was directed against abuses which every Whig was pledged to
attack. “We, alas,” Lord Campbell confesses, “with shame,” had “not
enough virtue to withstand the temptation of snatching a vote against
the Government”[42]--a vote, by the way, which kept alive heinous abuses
for eight years longer.
The Upper House, however, was not quite so factious over the Irish
Coercion Bill. It was introduced by the Earl of St. Germains, who
explained that it enabled the Government not only to proclaim any
district in Ireland in which crime prevailed, but to quarter extra
police on it at the expense of the ratepayers. Stringent clauses
prohibiting the possession of arms, and preventing people from quitting
their houses between sunset and sunrise, were added. These were, in
fact, the clauses which whetted the wit of the younger Radicals against
what they derisively termed, not an Irish Coercion, but an “Irish Curfew
Bill.” The Lords were also told that outrages in Ireland had risen from
1,496 in 1844, to 3,642 in 1845, and the Bill passed through the Upper
House with very trifling opposition. It was in the Commons that it was
destined to be made the battle-ground of factions. The Protectionists
pretended that Peel was not in earnest in introducing it; for, though
the Bill was announced in January, it was not till the 30th of March
that Sir James Graham moved the first reading, and not till late in June
that the second reading was taken. The Whigs and Radicals objected to
the Bill because they held that conciliation, and not repression, was
wanted in Ireland. The Irish members taunted Peel with having created
the disturbances in Ireland by changing the tolerant policy of
Melbourne, Normanby, and Drummond, and by giving Irish judicial
appointments to the most violent Orange partisans. Others, like Mr.
Roche, asked “Why don’t you feed the Irish peasantry, if, as is clear,
hunger is making them discontented?” The position of men like Mr. Cobden
was most embarrassing. As Liberals, they were bound to vote against the
Bill. But then they did not wish to expel Peel from office--and Peel had
said that by the Bill he would stand or fall. They decided at last to
vote against the measure, and rightly, for it was impossible to carry
on the Queen’s Government with three parties in the House--Peelites,
Protectionists, and Whig Tree Traders. A single vote, moreover, could
not save the Ministry, for Peel’s enemies would soon have organised
another combination against him on another question. The Bill was
accordingly defeated by a vote of 219 to 292, and the great Ministry
which effected a peaceful revolution, and created a new era of
government in England, fell before a majority of 73. Though 106
Protectionists returned to their old allegiance, and voted with Peel, 70
voted against him, and they, combined with all the Whigs and Radicals,
rendered the defeat of the Government so complete that even Peel’s
antagonists forbore to cheer. Writing on the 4th of July to Lord
Hardwicke in India, the fallen Minister said he had every reason to
forgive his enemies for “having conferred upon him the blessing of the
loss of power.”[43]
Just before the fatal verdict was given, the Queen had the consolation
of knowing that, thanks to the adroit diplomacy of Lord Aberdeen, who
was justly a _persona grata_ at Court, a dispute with the United States
as to the settlement of the Oregon territory had ended. This was some
slight solace to her Majesty for the vexation of losing a Ministry which
she felt convinced was in full touch with national sympathies at a most
perilous time, and which she trusted, she says in one of her letters,
because she never once knew them recommend anything “that was not for
the country’s good, and never for the Party’s advantage only.”[44] This
controversy with the United States had in 1822 brought us to the verge
of war, for, by a Convention in 1818, American and English settlers were
to have the privilege of colonising the no-man’s land in Oregon
indiscriminately for ten years, a term again renewed in 1827. Quarrels
from clashing jurisdictions and conflicting allegiances naturally arose
out of this confused state of things, and it was clear that the
territory ought to be divided fairly and finally between the two
Governments. In March, President Polk had sent a Message to Congress,
pointing out that though England was at peace with all the world, she
was making unusual warlike preparations “both at home and in her North
American possessions.” This, the President broadly hinted, was due to
the continuance of the Oregon dispute, and, alluding in an alarmist
fashion to the contingency of war between the two nations, he suggested
the propriety of also increasing the military and naval forces of the
Republic. On the 13th of April, Mr. Reverdy Johnson proposed to the
Senate a Resolution, which was carried, giving notice to England that
the existing loose arrangement with regard to Oregon should, so far as
America was concerned, determine at the end of twelve months, and urging
on the Governments of both countries the necessity for taking steps to
arrive at an amicable settlement. It was on the 9th of June that Lord
Brougham asked Lord Aberdeen if it were true that the Oregon question
had really been settled, and Lord Aberdeen answered in the affirmative.
He seems to have managed the whole affair very skilfully. Finding that
President Polk would not submit the dispute to arbitration, and that he
sent a Message to the Senate recommending it to give notice of ending
the joint occupation of Oregon, Lord Aberdeen waited to see what the
Senate would do. When it passed Mr. Reverdy Johnson’s friendly and
suggestive
[Illustration: THE BRITISH ARMY CROSSING THE SUTLEJ.]
Resolution, Lord Aberdeen, discarding diplomatic forms, immediately
acted on it, and submitted a draft of a new Oregon Convention,
formulating his idea of an amicable settlement for the consideration of
the United States. Mr. Pakenham, the American Secretary of State,
promptly accepted it as the basis of the Treaty, which was ratified on
17th of June, 1846--a Treaty which made the 49th parallel of North
latitude the boundary line between the two countries. All land to the
north of that line went to Canada; and all land to the south of it, to
the United States.
Another cause of anxiety had virtually disappeared before Peel resigned;
office. The war cloud that loomed over our Indian frontier had
vanished,
[Illustration: THE BATTLE OF FEROZESHAH.]
though not till a brilliant and decisive campaign had been fought
against the Sikhs in the Punjab.
The power of the Sikh nation was consolidated by Ranjit Sing--an
adventurer who, in 1799, obtained a grant of Lahore from Zaman Shah. He
gradually conquered the Punjab, and, in 1809, attacked the small Sikh
States east of the Sutlej. Those Cis-Sutlej principalities accordingly
sought and obtained British protection. In 1818, Ranjit stormed Multan,
and carried the Khalsa banner from the extreme south of the Punjab, far
away into the valley of Kashmir. In 1839, his son, Kharak Sing,
succeeded to his throne, but was supposed to have been poisoned in 1840.
After that, the Sikh dominion fell into anarchy, and frequent violations
of British territory led to the first Sikh war of 1845.
On the 17th of November, 1845, the Sikhs declared war on the English,
and on the 11th of December the first Sikh soldier crossed the Sutlej.
On the 18th, the battle of Moodkee was fought by Sir Hugh Gough,
afterwards Lord Gough, who was in command of an army of 11,000 men.
Moodkee is a village in the Ferozepore district, lying in a plain
twenty-six miles south of the Sutlej. Two days before the battle the
Sikhs crossed the river at Ferozepore with 4,000 infantry, 10,000
cavalry, and 22 guns. At Moodkee they were driven from their position
after a hard struggle, in which Gough had 215 killed and 657 wounded.
The battle may be said to have gone on till the 22nd, when our troops
stormed and took the entrenched camp of the enemy at Ferozeshah, twelve
miles from the left bank of the Sutlej. The Sikhs attributed their
defeat at that place not so much to the skill of our generals, as to the
treachery of their own leader. They lost 2,000 men, and the British 694
killed and 1,721 wounded ere the earthworks were carried. Sir Robert
Sale and General McCaskell were killed. Many of our losses were due to
the blowing-up of the enemy’s camp after we had entered it; many of our
men were killed whilst burying the dead, a misfortune attributed to our
lack of a strong enough force of cavalry to clear the ground. Sir Henry
Hardinge, the Governor-General, was present at both engagements. He had
generously offered to serve in a military capacity under Gough, who put
him in command of a Division. It was for this reason that Sir Henry
wrote to Gough a despatch describing the battle, which had afterwards to
be sent by Gough to Sir Henry himself in his capacity as Viceroy. It is
interesting to note that our troops, for six days previous to the battle
of Moodkee, had marched a distance of 150 miles, and that on the very
day on which they fought that battle, they had made a forced march of
thirty miles. Yet, though faint with fatigue, hunger, and thirst, when
ordered to attack fresh troops, they went into action without a murmur
and with the desperate valour that repulsed the enemy. During the night
they bivouacked on the stricken field, and next day entrenched
themselves, waiting for the onset of the Sikhs. But unexpectedly they
were reinforced by two regiments, and then they pressed on to help Sir
J. Littler, who was manœuvring at Ferozeshah. It was after joining him
that they made the night attack on the enemy’s camp, which crowned their
standards with victory. On the 26th of March, London was greatly excited
by the tidings of another great victory, which had been won on the 28th
of January. This is known as the victory of Aliwal, the battle having
been fought at a village of that name about nine miles west of Loodiana,
on the left bank of the Sutlej. It had been held by Ranjur Sing, who had
crossed the river in force and menaced Loodiana. On the 28th, Sir Harry
Smith--determined to clear the left bank of the stream, _i.e._, the
British bank--attacked the Sikhs in great force, and, after a desperate
effort, put them to flight. It was, however, a troopers’ battle, being
gained by the stubborn valour of the British cavalry, which was hurled
in masses, three times, against the Sikhs, each time piercing their
lines. The last charge decided the day. The enemy were pushed into the
river, where large numbers were drowned, and 67 guns were ultimately
taken by the victors. The effect of this battle was immediate. The
Khalsa banner vanished, as if by magic, from all the forts on our side
of the Sutlej, and the territory east of the river submitted to the
Indian Government.
All doubt as to the fortune of war ended on the 10th of February, 1846,
when Gough fought the terrible battle of Sobraon. The Sikhs had chosen a
strong position on the east side of the Sutlej, protecting the Hariki
ford, and their rear rested on the village of Sobraon. It was on the
Ferozepore side that the fight took place, the Sikhs holding their
earthworks defiantly, till cut down almost to the last man. They lost
5,000 men, and but few lived to recross the Sutlej. This crowning
victory, in which our losses were 320 killed and 2,083 wounded, cleared
the left bank of the river. After news of the victory of Sobraon came to
Lahore, the Ranee and her Durbar sent a chief--the Rajah Golab Sing, who
had always been on good terms with the British Government--as an envoy,
to sue for peace. The Rajah agreed to concede our demands, which were
the surrender in full sovereignty of the territory between the Sutlej
and Beas rivers; an indemnity of one and a half crore of rupees; the
disbandment of the Sikh army, and its reorganisation on the system
adopted by the celebrated Maharajah Ranjit Sing, the limitations on its
employment to be determined in communication with the Indian Government;
the surrender of all guns which had been pointed against us; and the
control of both banks of the Sutlej. It was further agreed that Golab
Sing and the young Maharajah Duleep Sing should repair to the camp of
the Governor-General of India, which they did on the 18th of February,
when his Highness the Maharajah formally made his submission. After
this, it was arranged he should return to Lahore with the
Governor-General and the conquering army, who occupied the city on the
22nd. In the actual Treaty it was further stipulated that no European or
American was to be employed by the Maharajah Duleep Sing without the
consent of the British Government, and that Golab Sing was to be made
Maharajah of the territory lying between the Ravee and the Indus,
including the valley of Kashmir, paying every year to our Government, in
acknowledgment of British supremacy, a horse, twelve shawl goats, and
three pairs of shawls. Subsequently, the conquering army marched in
triumph to Delhi, escorting
[Illustration: SIR HENRY HARDINGE.]
the trophies and spoils of the sixty days’ war, and displaying them
proudly in every city and military station _en route_, as symbols of
British prowess and prestige.
Sir H. Hardinge and Sir H. Gough were thanked in Parliament for their
services, and raised to the peerage with munificent pensions. There were
some who thought that the State was too lavish in its rewards on this
occasion, and the country was reminded that it had done no more for
Rodney than it was doing for Gough. Nor was this view altogether
indefensible. Good luck rather than good guidance rescued us from a
perilous situation in the Punjab, for it is certain that the Indian
Government sent our troops to the field in a condition that would have
rendered failure certain, had we been contending with European armies.
The Sikhs, it is true, were a small nation, but they were a nation of
warriors, and therefore formidable. They put into the field a splendidly
[Illustration: THE RIVAL PAGES. (_Reduced Fac-simile after Punch._)
“I’m afraid you’re not strong enough for the place, John.”]
equipped and disciplined army of 100,000 men, who, as soldiers, were
“bravest of the brave.” This was surely a powerful instrument of
warfare, strong enough, in able hands, to change the destinies of an
empire, and yet we were quite unprepared to meet such a dangerous enemy.
Nothing, in fact, but the personal pluck of our troops at this great
crisis saved our Indian dominion on our frontier. The Sikhs, however, it
must be also stated, failed where they should have succeeded, because
they had no general who was a master of strategy. They divided their
army into two large corps. Each moved against our chief forts,
Ferozepore and Loodiana, without intending to attack them, and it
happened that the distance between these two forts was greater round by
the Sikh side of the Sutlej than by ours. The Sikhs, therefore, had to
manœuvre in the circumference of a circle, whilst we at the centre could
move along its arc. The two Sikh armies were not mutually supporting.
Had they both crossed the Sutlej in such fashion that they could have
supported each other, we could hardly have attacked them at Ferozeshah,
or fought for twenty-four hours against an army 70,000 strong, in an
entrenched position, when another Sikh force, 40,000 strong, was within
sound of our guns.
Hardly had the Queen and the country ceased to rejoice over political,
diplomatic, and military triumphs, than another painful Ministerial
crisis had to be faced. Sovereign and subject were alike touched by the
strange and dramatic coincidence of their trusted Minister, at the
supreme moment of victory, falling, like Tarpeia, crushed, as if in
requital for a great service to the people. On the 26th of June there
was a Cabinet meeting to consider the hostile vote on the Irish Coercion
Bill, and the Prime Minister went down to Osborne to confer with the
Queen. He returned to inform Parliament, on the 29th, that Ministers had
tendered their resignations, and only held office till their successors
could relieve them of their posts. He also said that he would support
Lord John Russell in all his Free Trade measures, and paid an eloquent
tribute to Mr. Cobden, to whom he generously gave credit for organising
the victory of the Free Traders. When he left the House he was followed
home by a cheering crowd.
The resignation of Sir Robert Peel and his colleagues was a mournful
incident in the Queen’s life. She had learned to respect and trust the
Prime Minister and his colleagues, one of whom, Lord Aberdeen, had, by
his gentle manners and cultured companionship, won the hearts of the
Queen and the Prince Consort. The country, in the opinion of the Queen,
was in a critical condition. One of the great political parties was
shattered as a governing organisation, and her Majesty and her husband
both knew how safe and valuable was the pilotage of those with whom,
says Sir Theodore Martin, “they had grown familiar, not merely in the
anxious counsels of State, but in the intimacies of friendship.”
There can be no doubt that the feeling of the Queen and of the country
alike ran in favour of retaining Sir Robert Peel at the head of affairs.
After he resigned, and the Whig Administration, headed by Lord John
Russell, took his place, the sentiments of the Sovereign were, curiously
enough, reproduced unconsciously by Mr. Wakley in the House of Commons.
Referring to the change of Government, he said, “I am utterly at a loss
to understand why it was that Sir Robert Peel left his place in the
Cabinet, and gave up his situation to others who are scarcely prepared
to carry out the Liberal principles which the Right Honourable Baronet
professed in the last speech that he delivered to this House.... At this
moment Sir Robert Peel is the most popular man in the kingdom. He is
believed in, he is almost adored by the masses, who believe that no
Minister before him ever made such sacrifices as he has made in their
behalf.” _Punch_ had, however, anticipated Mr. Wakley as an exponent of
popular feeling when Sir Robert Peel tendered his resignation in
December, 1845. The great comic journal then gave its readers a picture,
showing Peel and Lord John Russell as rival candidates for the office of
page to the Queen, and her Majesty settling the claims of one by saying,
“I’m afraid you’re not strong enough for the place, John.” This was also
the feeling even of the Whig gentry, who thought Lord John needlessly
bold in forcing on such a disagreeable question as the Repeal of the
Corn Laws in his letter to the electors of London. “I hear,” wrote Lord
Clarendon, to Lord Lyndhurst, on the 17th of December, 1845, “Lord John
has gone down to Windsor to-night; and I can assure you that the most
acceptable news he can bring back _to his whole party_ would be that he
had not considered himself justified in undertaking the task proposed to
him by the Queen.”[45] That the Queen was still desirous of retaining
her Ministers in office after they again resigned in June, 1846, is
expressly taken for granted in a letter addressed by the Duke of
Wellington to Peel on the 21st of June.[46] It is put beyond all doubt
by a letter dated the 7th of July from her Majesty to the King of the
Belgians, in which she says:--“Yesterday (6th of July) was a very hard
day for me. I had to part from Sir Robert Peel and Lord Aberdeen, who
are irreparable losses to us and to the country. They were both _so_
much overcome that it quite upset me, and we have in them two devoted
friends. We felt _so_ safe with them.” At Court it was thought that Sir
Robert should dissolve, or coalesce with the more moderate Whigs. The
Duke of Wellington was for dissolution, and, by a curious coincidence,
for the same reason which Mr. Cobden seems to have given in a private
letter which he wrote to the fallen Minister recommending that step.
Peel’s public services, and the confidence which the industrial classes
had in his policy, would, he thought, induce the country to give him a
working majority.[47] On the other hand, Sir Robert Peel thought that to
dissolve on a Coercion Bill for Ireland “would shake the foundations of
the legislative union,” and ensure “a worse return of Irish
Members--rendered more desperate, more determined to obstruct, by every
artifice, the passing of a Coercion Bill in the new Parliament.” In
fact, he was at pains to impress on the Queen the tradition which she is
understood to have handed down to a later generation of statesmen that,
with the exception of “No Popery,” the most dangerous of all election
cries is “Coercion for Ireland.”[48] There was another cogent reason
which had weight with the Queen. Her Majesty has ever regarded the power
to dissolve Parliament as a sacred trust vested in her for the
protection of the country, and the Crown, against factious Parliaments.
But it is a power like the talisman in
[Illustration: LORD CAMPBELL.]
Balzac’s story, that loses its virtue by repeated use on trivial
occasions. “The hope of getting a stronger minority,” said Peel, in his
Memorandum to the Duke of Wellington, “is no justification for a
Dissolution.” And yet, with all his popularity, that was his highest
hope. The differences between Lord John Russell and Lord Grey were not
acute enough to cause a schism in the Whig Party. The Free Traders, on
whom the Duke of Wellington relied so much, had given all the glory of
Repeal to Cobden. They were exhausting their energies and enthusiasm in
organising a testimonial to him, and had none to spare for the
reconstruction of a new Party of Progressive Reform, under the
leadership of Peel. As for the Radicals and the Irish Nationalists, they
would have declared war to the knife against the Minister who made
Coercion for Ireland his cry. As for the Tory Party, Sir Robert was to
them in the position of the man mentioned in Scripture, who found his
worst foes in his own household. On the whole, it was perhaps wise that
he resisted the temptation to yield to such potent influences as those
of the
[Illustration: THE HORSEGUARDS, FROM THE PARADE GROUND.]
Queen, the Duke of Wellington, and Mr. Cobden, and firmly refused to
dissolve Parliament.
The next question that disturbed the Court was what would the Duke of
Wellington do? The Queen was personally most anxious that he should
remain at the head of the army as Commander-in-Chief, in spite of any
change of Ministry. She had, on the occasion of Sir Robert Peel’s
interview with her in December, when he first resigned, expressed this
wish. But she knew that if the Duke consented he would unwittingly give
great strength to Lord John Russell’s Government, and with
characteristic shrewdness she judged that Sir Robert Peel might possibly
regard with little favour a proposal which was rather like asking him to
lend his rival one of his strongest colleagues. But her Majesty mooted
the matter with such grace and tact, that Sir Robert Peel was not only
eager to give his assent, but assured her that he would do everything in
his power to remove any difficulty that might arise on the part of the
Duke.[49] At the same time, he also undertook to convey to Lord
Liverpool, for whom the Queen had a very high regard, the letter in
which she earnestly urged him to retain the appointment of Lord Steward.
The Duke of Wellington was well aware of Sir Robert’s views, and
concurred with him fully in sacrificing all considerations of party
tactics to the wishes expressed by the Sovereign, whose popular
sympathies interpreted national feeling with so much accuracy and
precision. Thus it came to pass that when Lord John Russell’s Ministry
took office in July, his Grace was quite prepared to receive from the
Prime Minister a personal request from her Majesty, inviting him to
retain his post as Commander-in-Chief of the army. But the grim warrior
felt it his duty to explain definitely, in writing, to Lord John the
exact significance that was to be attached to his consent. In a letter
to Lord Lyndhurst,[50] dated the 23rd of July, his Grace says:--“I told
you that in consequence of her Majesty having conveyed to me her
commands that I should continue to fill the office of Commander-in-Chief
of her Majesty’s Land Forces, through her Minister, Lord John Russell, I
had given my consent; but that I had explained myself to Lord John
nearly in the very words of, and had referred to, a letter which I had
written to her Majesty in December last, when her Majesty had herself in
writing intimated the same command to me, on the occasion of the
retirement of Sir Robert Peel from her Majesty’s service, and Lord John
Russell having received her commands to form a Government. Here follow
the very terms used:--‘It is impossible for F.M. the Duke of Wellington
to form a political connection with Lord John Russell, or to have any
relations with the political course of the Government over which he will
preside. Such arrangement would not conciliate public confidence, be
creditable to either party, or be useful to the service of her Majesty;
nor, indeed, would the performance of the duties of the
Commander-in-Chief require that it should exist. On the other hand, the
performance of these duties would require that the person filling the
office should avoid to belong to or act in concert with any political
party opposed to the Government.’ Her Majesty was thus made aware of the
position in which I was about to place myself in case her Majesty should
communicate to me her official command that I should resume the command
of her army.”
These matters are of some little interest to the new generation, which
has been taught that in England the personality of the Sovereign counts
for very little in public affairs, and who are only too ready to run
away with the idea that, under a discreet and taciturn Queen, the Crown,
as Mr. Disraeli once said, has become a cipher, and the Sovereign a
serf. Even in her inexperienced youth we see the greatest Minister and
the greatest Captain of the age paying chivalrous deference to her
Majesty’s personal wishes. It may be said that the incident cited is a
trivial one. In our delicate and complex system of party Government no
incident affecting the personal relations of a Minister of State, either
to the Crown or to a Cabinet, is ever trivial. In this particular case
let us ask what followed almost directly from the diplomatic success
which the Queen won in persuading Sir Robert Peel and the Duke of
Wellington to yield to her desire, that even under a Whig Government his
Grace should still serve as Commander-in-Chief? Why, this. When Lord
Lyndhurst--who, according to the ill-natured insinuations of Lord
Campbell, was hankering once more after the Lord Chancellorship--began
to intrigue for the purpose of reuniting the broken ranks of the old
Conservative Party, he naturally turned to the Duke of Wellington after
Peel received his suggestions with marked coldness. Had he won over the
Duke to his project, he might have succeeded. But this very letter,
which has been quoted, was written by the Duke to explain that, though
most anxious to see the Party reconstructed, yet he had, at the request
of the Queen, accepted the office of Commander-in-Chief, and was
therefore no longer free to act in concert with “any political party not
connected with the existing Administration.” It cost Mr. Disraeli the
unwearying labour of a quarter of a century to do the work that might
have been done in a few sessions, if Lord Lyndhurst had secured the
cordial and active co-operation of the Duke of Wellington in his bold
enterprise.
But reconstruction at this time was not to be. Peel had no desire to
serve again as a partisan leader, or to reorganise the Party he had felt
it his duty to shatter, though his career was buried in its ruins. He
and his followers joined neither the Protectionists nor the Whigs. They
came to be known as the Peelites, and so bitter was the feeling among
their old associates that petty objections were raised against their
sitting on the Conservative benches after they had quitted office. In a
pamphlet privately printed at Edinburgh Sir Robert Peel was derisively
recommended to solve the problem of his seat in the House of Commons by
taking “another hint from Aristophanes. As we have seen him before adopt
from the ‘Knights,’ the admirable trick of the sausage seller, so now he
seems to have borrowed a suggestion from the ‘Clouds.’ We are given to
understand that in next Parliament he will soar above parties, for he
has determined to suspend himself in a basket from the roof.”[51]
CHAPTER XIV.
THE FIRST RUSSELL ADMINISTRATION.
The Transfer of Ministerial Offices--The Whigs Patronise Mr.
Cobden--A Radical in the New Cabinet--The Peelites Refuse to Take
Office--Lord Campbell as Chancellor of the Duchy--Anecdote of his
Installation--Lord John Russell’s Deportment to the Queen--His
Modest Programme--The Abolition of the Sugar Duties--Bishop
Wilberforce and Slave-grown Sugar--Outrages in Ireland--The Whigs
become Coercionists--Their Arms Act--Mutiny among
Ministerialists--The Bill Dropped--The Alternative Policy--Relief
Works for Ireland--A Military Scandal--Indignation in the
Country--Abuse of Corporal Punishment in the Army--“The Cat” in the
House of Commons--The Queen’s Views on Military Punishment--The
Queen and a Deserter’s Death-warrant--Captain Layard’s Motion--The
Duke of Wellington’s Interference--Restrictions on the use of the
Lash--England and the Colonies--Canada and Free Trade--Nova Scotia
and the Potato Famine--The Halifax, Quebec, and Montreal
Railway--The New Zealand War--The Caffre War--The Expedition to
Borneo--End of the Anglo-Chinese Difficulty--The “Spanish
Marriages” and the Treaty of Utrecht--Louis Philippe’s Intrigues
with the Queen Dowager Christina--Secret History of the
Conspiracy--M. Guizot’s Pretext--How the English Minister at Madrid
was Deceived--Lord Palmerston’s Indiscreet Despatch--The Queen’s
Cutting Letter to the Queen Marie Amélie--Metternich’s Caustic
Epigram--The Prince Consort’s Resentment against the King of the
French--End of the Anglo-French Alliance--Fall of the Republic of
Cracow.
Lord John Russell had no serious difficulty on this occasion in forming
a Ministry. The transfer of Ministerial offices was effected at
Buckingham Palace on the 6th of July, 1846. Some recognition was due to
the Anti-Corn-Law League for the aid it had given the Whigs in their
contest for supremacy with the Party which had allied itself with the
Protectionists. An office of Cabinet rank would have been offered to Mr.
Cobden, but he was desirous of obtaining some respite from the severe
strain of political life. His private affairs had suffered from his
devotion to the public service, and, as his biographer admits, it would
have been difficult to appoint to a high office in the State a
politician whose friends were at the time collecting a public
subscription on his behalf. Mr. Villiers was offered a place, but
refused it. Lord John Russell finally induced Mr. Milner Gibson to
represent the Free Trade Party in the Government, as Vice-President of
the Board of Trade--a post devoid of high dignity and strong influence.
Three of Sir Robert Peel’s colleagues--Mr. Sidney Herbert, Lord
Dalhousie, and Lord Lincoln--were invited to join the Government as a
concession to the feeling of those who demanded a coalition. The
invitation was declined. It was, in truth, one that could not have been
honourably accepted, and, therefore, it should never have been made.
There was no reason to suppose that these statesmen were ready to
remodel their views on Coercion, as suddenly as they had recast their
opinions about Corn.
Leaving Mr. Milner Gibson out of account, we may say that the new
Ministry was of the conventional Whig type, the only notable addition to
it being Lord Grey, who by this time had overcome his objections to
serve in the same Cabinet with Lord Palmerston as Foreign
Secretary.[52] Lord Lansdowne, as Lord Privy Seal, led the Party in the
House of Lords; Sir George Grey went to the Home Office, a perilous post
in times of popular distress and discontent; Mr. C. Wood--afterwards
Lord Halifax--became
[Illustration: LORD MACAULAY.]
Chancellor of the Exchequer; Mr.--afterwards Lord--Macaulay,
Postmaster-General; Lord Bessborough, Lord Lieutenant, and Mr.
Labouchere, Chief Secretary for Ireland. John, Lord Campbell, joined the
Ministry as Chancellor of the Duchy. He says:--“I ought to have been
satisfied, for I received two seals--one for the Duchy of Lancaster, and
one for the County Palatine of Lancaster. My ignorance of the double
honour which awaited me caused an awkward accident; for when the Queen
put two velvet bags into my hand, I grasped one only, and the other,
with its heavy weight, fell down on the floor, and might have bruised
the Royal toes; but Prince Albert good-naturedly picked it up and
restored it to me.”[53] The programme of the Government was modest and
practical, and independent men were gratified to find that social
questions, such as the housing of the poor, and popular education,
figured in it prominently. But it rested on no very solid basis, for it
was supported by the Peelites against the Protectionists, and by the
Protectionists against the Peelites. As for its own immediate followers,
they shared the opinion of Mr. Bickham Escott, who, when Lord John
Russell explained his position to the House, warned the Government
significantly that previous Whig Ministries had failed for two reasons:
they startled the people by proclaiming novel principles, and then
disgusted the country by insisting on applying them prematurely. It has
been said that the Ministry was not in favour at Court, and that Lord
John Russell had reason to regret that he was not a _persona grata_ with
her Majesty. Such statements are quite unfounded, for the Queen
supported her new Ministers as loyally as her old ones. Writing on the
relations between her Majesty and her Prime Minister at this time, Lord
Campbell says:--“He (Lord John Russell) has always risen with the
occasion, and now very worthily fills the office of Prime Minister. His
deportment to the Queen is most respectful, but he always remembers that
as _she_ can do no wrong _he_ is responsible for all measures of her
Government. He is enough at Court to show that he enjoys the
Constitutional confidence of the Sovereign without being domiciled there
as a _favourite_.”
The first question that demanded attention was that of the Sugar Duties.
Lord John Russell, on the 20th of July, proposed a plan, the essence of
which was a gradual reduction of the differential duties on foreign
sugar, till they reached a vanishing point in 1851, when all kinds of
sugar, whether of British or foreign growth, would be taxed equally. The
Protectionists opposed this project on plain Protectionist principles.
But the Peelites, though generally of opinion that the free-grown sugar
deserved to be protected a little longer against slave-grown sugar,
supported the Government, mainly because they thought a change of
Ministry and a general election would be injurious to the country,
whilst parties were in a confused state of transition. The second
reading of the Bill was therefore carried in the House of Commons by a
majority of 130; though in the House of Lords the measure was saved only
by a majority of 18. In the Upper House the Government suffered
considerably from the opposition of Dr. Samuel Wilberforce, Bishop of
Oxford, whose brilliant speech, coming as it did from a strong Free
Trader, turned many votes. His views, which were shared not only by a
large body of impartial and philanthropic Liberals, but were even
supposed to find favour at Court, where he exercised at that time great
influence over Prince Albert, are worth reproducing. Writing to Miss
Noel before the debate, he said:--“I am at present convinced (1) that no
extension of Free Trade could be more beneficial to our poor producers
and poor consumers at home than that to the Brazils; (2) that the
probable effect of the same measure would ultimately benefit our Indian
Colonies; (3) that the refusal of the measure will lead either to a
dissolution of Parliament or a resignation of the Ministry, both very
injurious at this moment--that I therefore earnestly desire to support
the motion. But that I am _at present_ convinced that the opening of
this trade would lead at once and certainly to a great extension of the
Brazilian and Cuban slave trade, and that no demonstrated advantages to
be gained or losses to be incurred can for a single instant make me
hesitate as to giving the most emphatic negative possible to such a
proposal.” The fallacy here is obvious. It sprang from the assumption
that a nation is bound to apply its own standard of morality to the
commercial institutions and customs of foreign countries, and restrict
its foreign trade to those cases where foreigners accept that standard.
The universal application of such a principle would soon annihilate
commerce as a civilising agency in the world. The United States might
refuse to trade with England, because she permitted landlords to evict
Irish peasants from rack-rented farms. We might have been called on to
buy no tallow or hides from Russia, because they were produced by serfs.
To be consistent, the Bishop of Oxford should have demanded cessation of
traffic, not only with slave States but with all free States that traded
with them. It was curiously illogical to argue that by fettering trade
we could free the slave.
Hardly had Lord John Russell’s Government settled down in office when
they were alarmed by the disturbed state of Ireland, where evictions and
famine were goading the peasantry on to agrarian outrages. The Whigs
were embarrassed by their opposition to Sir Robert Peel’s Coercion Bill,
because they had justified their tactics by belittling the disorder and
lawlessness which that measure was designed to repress. Many of their
own supporters accordingly complained bitterly when Ministers, on the
7th of August, invited the House to prolong the expiring Irish Arms Act
till May, 1847. Lord John Russell’s only excuse was, that there was a
distinction to be drawn between the proposal of new coercive
legislation, and a request to prolong an existing law, without which it
was impossible to curb the mania for buying arms and ammunition which
was seizing the Irish peasantry. The spirit and tone of the Opposition
speeches during the debate on Peel’s coercive measure conveyed, and were
meant to convey, to the people of England and Ireland the impression
that the Whigs were opposed, not merely to a Coercion Bill, but to a
coercive policy, and the distinction between proposing new and
prolonging old but expiring repressive legislation was generally felt to
be a distinction without a difference. Lord Seymour forced Lord John
Russell to withdraw the clauses in the Arms Act relating to domiciliary
visits and the branding of arms; but, though this enabled the
Government to carry the second reading of the measure on the 10th of
August, it was ultimately abandoned on the 17th. On that day the
Government fell back on an alternative policy. They introduced a
remedial scheme for the purpose of empowering local authorities
(baronial sessions) to employ the destitute Irish people on relief works
started by State advances, to be repaid in ten years at 3½ per cent. To
meet the case of poor districts where repayment was impossible, an
appropriation of £50,000--a ridiculously small sum--was set aside for
grants in aid. Parliament, in sheer weariness, sanctioned this project,
although it was warned that the scheme would divert public money from
the improvement of the land to the construction of useless roads and
bridges, and tempt the peasantry to neglect husbandry for well-paid
labour on superfluous public works. As Mr. Disraeli subsequently said,
its effect was to set a population as great as that of Holland to break
stones on the roads, and, he might have added, on good roads, that were
too often broken up that they might be unnecessarily remetalled.
Towards the end of the Session the House of Commons plunged into a
somewhat exciting controversy over the abuse of corporal punishment in
the army. This arose out of the revolting disclosures which were made at
an inquest which Mr. Wakley, M.P., Coroner for Middlesex, insisted on
holding on the body of a soldier named Whyte, who, on the 15th of July,
had died from the effects of 150 lashes which had been administered to
him by order of a court-martial. A storm of passionate wrath swept
through the land when the truth, in spite of vain efforts at concealment
on the part of the military authorities, was revealed. The Duke of
Wellington, when he heard of the affair, exclaimed to Mr. Fox Maule,
Secretary of State for War, “This shall not occur again. Though I
believe that corporal punishment cannot be dispensed with, yet I will
not sanction that degree of it which shall lead to loss of life and
limb.” In fact, his Grace had reason to fear that the Queen’s
indignation would be roused by this scandalous occurrence, for he knew
only too well that she held very pronounced views, not altogether in
accord with his own, on the subject of military punishment. On one
occasion, for instance, when the Duke brought her a soldier’s
death-warrant to sign, she asked him, with tears in her eyes, if there
was nothing to be said on behalf of the man. The Duke explained that he
was an incorrigible deserter, but, after being pressed by her Majesty,
admitted that the culprit’s comrades spoke well of him in other
respects. Her Majesty replied, eagerly, “Oh, your Grace, I am so glad to
hear that,” and, with trembling hand, rapidly scribbled the word
“Pardoned” across the fatal scroll, and signed her name with a sigh of
relief and a smile of satisfaction. Captain Layard therefore felt sure
of his ground when, on the 3rd of August, he rose in the House of
Commons to move an Address to the Crown complaining of the use of the
lash in the army. His motion was withdrawn, but Dr. Bowring immediately
gave notice
[Illustration: PARDONED: THE QUEEN AND THE DESERTER’S DEATH-WARRANT.
(_See p. 248._)]
of another motion for the abolition of corporal punishment in the
Service. It never came on for discussion, because the Duke of Wellington
interposed, and appeased public feeling, by issuing an order restricting
the powers of courts-martial, and prohibiting them from inflicting more
than fifty lashes even in the worst cases.
Parliament was prorogued on the 28th of August, the Lord Chancellor
reading the Queen’s Speech. Her Majesty congratulated both Houses on the
passing of the Corn Law Bill, on the settlement of the Oregon dispute,
on the victories in India, and, oddly enough, on “a considerable
diminution of crime and outrage in Ireland”--a significant commentary on
the abortive attempt of Lord John Russell to prolong the existing Irish
Arms Act.
During 1846 the relations between England and her Colonies were, save in
one instance, undisturbed, though in Canada some traces of the bitter
feeling engendered by the rebellion were still discernible. The
Governor, Lord Metcalfe, had incurred considerable unpopularity, because
he had not consulted the Ministry as to filling certain offices, which
he maintained were Crown appointments. The old disputes, too, which
arose out of attempts to charge compensation to rebels on the fund set
aside for compensating loyalists for losses suffered during the
rebellion, had left rankling memories behind them. Lord Metcalfe, on his
death, was succeeded by Lord Cathcart, who opened the Second Session of
the Second Canadian Parliament on the 20th of March. His Excellency’s
speech hardly pleased his audience. He referred, naturally, with great
good feeling, to the death of his predecessor, Lord Metcalfe. But this
only incited the minority to bring forward an amendment, which, while
expressing regret at Lord Metcalfe’s death, omitted all reference
whatever to the manner in which he had discharged his duties. Though the
Colony had no reason, said the representatives of this party, to love
military governors, yet they had no objection to congratulate Lord
Cathcart on his own appointment. Objectionable, however, as _his_
military education might be to them, it could not, they declared, render
him as objectionable as Lord Metcalfe, whose political training and
experience were purely Oriental. The one topic of high Imperial
importance dealt with by Lord Cathcart was his reference to the adoption
of Free Trade by the mother country. The Canadians, it may be said,
viewed the new commercial policy of Sir Robert Peel with the utmost
alarm. The doctrine of buying in the cheapest market and selling in the
dearest had no charms for them, for they were afraid that if the duties
were taken off which gave colonial a preference over foreign grain,
Canada would be ruined by American competition. On the 12th of May the
Canadian Legislative Assembly accordingly adopted an Address, which gave
forcible expression to the dismal prediction that Free Trade with
England must impoverish Canada, and thus depress one of the best markets
then open to English commerce. Mutterings of secession even ran through
the Address: it warned the Crown that, when the Canadians found they
could not successfully compete with the United States in the only market
open to them, they would naturally begin to doubt whether it was “a
paramount advantage” to remain subjects of the British Empire.
Undoubtedly the Free Trade policy of Peel, whatever good it may have
done, had one baneful effect. It alienated the Canadian Colonists from
the mother country.
In Nova Scotia the Governor, Lord Falkland, when he met the Legislative
Assembly on the 10th of January, had, like the Queen at home, to lament
the prevalence of distress due to the failure of the potato crop. But
otherwise the Colonists had a good harvest, not only from the land, but
from the sea. It was to this Parliament that the Government suggested
the construction of a railway from Halifax to Quebec and Montreal--the
first development of the policy which, by linking the different
provinces of British America by bands of iron roads, rendered
confederation possible.
New Zealand was the only Colony which gave her Majesty and her Ministers
much serious concern during 1846. It was a dependency which was
originally meant to be colonised as an experimental test of Mr.
Wakefield’s theories.[54] A Company was formed for this purpose, and its
administrators were to use the proceeds of land sales, to import labour
in fair proportion to the land appropriated. They were also to see that
settlers did not, by dispersal, degenerate into squatters. The first
ruler of the settlement, Governor Hobson and his officials annoyed the
Company in the most provoking manner. They selected the land for
emigrants foolishly, and they neglected to appropriate £40,000 from land
sales to the immigration service. His successor, Captain Fitzroy, found
the Colony with a debt of £68,000, an expenditure of £20,000 a year, and
a population of 15,000. He issued £15,000 worth of paper money, which he
made a legal tender; upset the terms on which settlers had bought native
lands; refused on various pretexts to let emigrants, who had paid the
Company cash for their lands in England, settle on them when they came
out; encouraged native turbulence by ill-timed displays of sympathy; and
suppressed a local Volunteer Force, offering the Colony, as a
substitute, fifty soldiers, to protect a region 200 miles long, and
inhabited by 10,000 persons. In fact, instead of governing the Colony,
the Governor had virtually made war on the Colonists, whose hostility to
him was pronounced and unconcealed. Perhaps they were a little unjust to
him, for the circumstances in which he was placed were full of
difficulty. He had to confront a large disaffected aboriginal
population. He had only a handful of troops to support him, and there
were no places of refuge or defence for the Colonists to fly to.
Auckland and Wellington would thus, he thought, have been destroyed by
the overpowering forces which the natives were ready to launch against
the British settlers, forces which nothing could restrain, save moral
influence wielded by a conciliatory Government. However, the feeling
against Captain Fitzroy in the Colony was so strong that he was
recalled, and Captain Grey was sent out in his stead. His arrival was
hailed with delight, for it was supposed to inaugurate a new era in New
Zealand.
Governor Grey, soon after he entered on his duties, began to coerce the
turbulent chiefs, whom Captain Fitzroy had attempted to subdue by
diplomacy.
[Illustration: VIEW IN NEW ZEALAND: NEW PLYMOUTH AND MOUNT EGMONT.]
and on the 10th of January Captain Despard attacked the fortified Pah or
camp of the rebel chief Kawiti, with a force of 1,100 men, aided by a
large number of native allies. The combat lasted for two days, for the
rebels fought with extraordinary tenacity, but ultimately they had to
yield. Our losses were twelve men killed and thirty wounded. The natives
conducted their operations in a manner that recalled Fenimore Cooper’s
descriptions of Indian fighting; and their chiefs and priests harangued
them every night in the ancient Homeric fashion. The reckless daring
displayed by our men was the subject of many anecdotes. One of the
sailors belonging to H.M.S. _Castor_, for example, climbed up to the top
of the stockade during the battle, and from that coign of vantage kept
up a damaging fire on the enemy. Colonel Wynard, who was marching past,
shouted out to the man to come down at once. Instead of doing that, he
coolly hailed the Colonel sailor-fashion, saying, “Oh! no, your honour.
This is the best place to see ’em. You jest come up and ’ave a look,
sir.” When the day was won the man came down without a scratch. It
[Illustration: VIEW IN CANTON: THE BRITISH CONSULATE.]
was then discovered, however, that his cap had been shot off, that his
coat had four bullet holes in it, and that the palisade on which he had
perched was riddled with bullets. The success of our arms was followed
by the immediate submission of the rebel chiefs. This was notified in a
proclamation issued by Governor Grey on the 23rd of January, in which he
granted a free pardon “to all concerned in the late rebellion, who may
now return in peace and safety to their houses, where, so long as they
conduct themselves properly, they shall remain unmolested in their
persons and properties.”
In South Africa a Caffre war or rising broke out in April, 1846, the
natives attacking Graham’s Town with remarkable audacity. A sharp
struggle for the possession of the frontier of the Cape Colony raged for
some time, but the Caffres were finally beaten in an engagement at Fish
River, and, though they continued to be troublesome, they were
throughout the year successfully held in check by Colonial levies.
Early in the year the Sultan of Borneo, acting under bad advice, caused
an attack to be made on his uncles, Muda Hassim and Bimdureen, who were
the leaders of what might be called the Anglophile or British party in
the State. They were murdered along with their families and dependents.
The Sultan immediately began to prepare to defend his territory against
any English troops that might come to avenge the death of our allies.
Sir Thomas Cochrane accordingly determined to proceed to Brunai, the
capital of Borneo, to demand reparation from the Sultan. Accompanied by
Mr. James Brooke (Rajah of Sarawak), H.M.SS. _Spiteful_ and
_Phlegethon_, with Mr. Brooke’s schooner _Royalist_, Sir T. Cochrane,
after a somewhat severe engagement, forced his way past the forts that
guarded the river leading to Brunai. He then landed a party of marines,
who took possession of the town. The Sultan and most of the inhabitants
fled into the interior. An expedition sent to capture him failed, but,
before leaving for China, Sir T. Cochrane issued a proclamation to the
people warning them that the Sultan was at the mercy of the British, and
declaring it to be our intention to return “and act with the extreme of
vigour should he ever again evince hostility to Great Britain.” Sir
Thomas Cochrane next sailed for China, where the turbulent Cantonese
were annoying the European community at Hong Kong. The disturbances in
Canton, news of which reached England in September, were, however,
easily quelled. About the same time her Majesty’s Government was
informed that all questions as to the completion of the Treaty by which
the Chinese war had been settled had been peacefully adjusted. The right
of entry to Canton, which that Treaty had guaranteed to us, had been
withheld by the Chinese, who now formally conceded it peacefully. On our
side preparations were at once made to give up Chusan, which we retained
in pawn so long as the Government at Pekin denied our right to enter
Canton.
In 1846 the foreign policy of Great Britain brought much anxiety to the
Queen. It was the irony of fate that her Government was drifting into
unfriendliness with France, though the Queen personally entertained
sentiments of warm friendship and admiration for King Louis Philippe and
his sons and daughters. But in Switzerland and South America the policy
of England and France was antagonistic. In Portugal a French faction was
striving to undermine British influence, and in Spain the question of
the marriage of Queen Isabella produced a serious estrangement between
the two nations.
Among those who aspired to the hand of the Spanish Queen was the Count
of Trapani, youngest brother of the King of Naples and the Queen
Dowager Christina, and therefore uncle of Queen Isabella. The Queen
Dowager opposed his pretensions; the young Queen herself, like the great
mass of her people, was also averse from an alliance with him. Another
suitor had therefore to be found. England objected to a French prince
being chosen, her traditional policy being hostile to whatever might
bring France and Spain under one crown. France was willing to respect
this objection, provided no prince but a prince of the House of Bourbon
was selected as the Queen’s consort. Here came the difficulty. Of those
princes his Highness of Lucca was ineligible, because he was married
already; the Count of Trapani was ineligible, because the Queen and her
subjects disliked him; the sons of the Don Francisco de Paula, her
Majesty’s uncle--the Duke of Cadiz and the Duke of Seville--were
ineligible because they were both disagreeable to the Queen, and,
according to M. Guizot, compromised by their intimacy with the
Radicals;[55] and Count Montemolin, the son of Don Carlos, was
ineligible, first, because everybody detested him, and, secondly,
because he was formally excluded from the succession by the Spanish
Constitution. How, then, was the French demand that the Queen of Spain
should marry one of the descendants of Philip V. to be satisfied? M.
Guizot admitted, in a despatch to M. de St. Aulaire, that these
difficulties were incontestable; but he added that the Court of Lisbon
was the centre of an intrigue to promote a marriage between the Queen
and Prince Leopold of Saxe-Coburg, whose connection with the Royal
Family of England rendered him objectionable to France. If this project
were further developed, M. Guizot cunningly argued, France would be
freed from the pledge she had given to England, and might then demand
the hand of the Queen of Spain or her sister the Infanta, for a French
prince of the House of Bourbon; in other words, for the Duc de
Montpensier. It was on the perfectly gratuitous and absolutely erroneous
assumption that England was promoting the candidature of the Prince
Leopold, that M. Guizot made ready to play the diplomatic trick which
ultimately destroyed the cordial feeling between England and France.
Louis Philippe had given his Royal word to Queen Victoria at Eu in
September, 1845, that in no case should the Duc de Montpensier marry the
Infanta till the Queen of Spain was herself married, and had children
who might assure the direct succession to her throne. But suddenly, in
the autumn of 1846, it was announced that the Queen of Spain was about
to marry her cousin, the Duke of Cadiz, and that her sister, the
Infanta, was at the same time to marry the Duc de Montpensier.
Technically, it does not appear that England had a right to complain of
this double marriage as a breach of the Treaty of Utrecht. It was, no
doubt, meant to evade and defeat the provisions of that instrument; but
the Treaty itself had never been construed, as Lord Palmerston seemed to
imagine, as a positive prohibition of all intermarriages between the
Royal Families of France and Spain. For example, in 1721 King Louis I.
of Spain married Louisa Elizabeth of Orleans, Mademoiselle de
Montpensier and fourth daughter of the Regent of France. In 1739 Don
Philip, Duke of Parma, a son of Philip V., married Louisa Elizabeth,
eldest daughter of Louis XV. of France. In 1745 the Dauphin of France,
as all the world knows, married Maria Theresa Antonia, Infanta of Spain,
and a daughter of Philip V. In truth, it must be conceded that the
Treaty of Utrecht simply stipulated that the crowns of France and Spain
should not rest on the head of the same sovereign. Even if the Queen’s
marriage were without issue, and a child or descendant of her sister and
the Duc de Montpensier had fallen heir to the French and Spanish
crowns--a somewhat problematical event--the Treaty of Utrecht would have
obviously operated as a bar against his claim. It would have compelled
him to elect which country he should rule over. The intrigue that ended
in this double marriage was regarded by England--nay, by Europe--as a
piece of diplomatic knavery, and both Louis Philippe and M. Guizot
suffered in character and in prestige accordingly.
The Queen was naturally more highly incensed than the nation, because
from her position and her vigilant study of foreign policy she knew more
than her people of the secret history of the affair. The motives of the
chief conspirators in the intrigue--Louis Philippe and the Queen Dowager
Christina--were rather disreputable. They utterly ignored the feelings
and the interests of the young Queen, and treated her as if she were a
chattel to be bartered away for their own aggrandisement. Louis
Philippe’s object was simply to secure for his son a consort whose dowry
would still further enrich the Orleans family, the aggrandisement of his
House being the dominant idea of his diplomacy. The Dowager Queen
Christina had been an unjust steward of the fortune which the Queen and
her sister inherited from their father, King Ferdinand VII., and for her
it was therefore a vital necessity to find husbands for her daughters,
who would not be too curious as to the accuracy of her accounts. It is
believed that when Ferdinand VII. died he was worth £8,000,000 sterling,
and though there is reason to suppose he left a will, no such instrument
was ever found. After his death, however, his property was set down as
being worth only 60,000,000 francs, and by law this was divided between
his daughters. The Queen Dowager was said at the time to have
appropriated not only the balance, but also a considerable proportion of
the rents of the Patrimonio Real, which passed through her hands during
her guardianship of her daughters. Her uncle, Louis Philippe, was
understood to be cognisant of the Queen Dowager’s “economies,” as they
were ironically termed in Spain, and he knew how her illegitimate
offspring had grown rich during the minority of the young Princesses.
Louis Philippe could answer for it that if his son married one of the
Royal sisters, no inconvenient questions would be asked about
settlements. In the Duke of Cadiz he discerned an imbecile Prince of the
House of Bourbon who would be equally pliable and accommodating.
Moreover, he was supposed to be physically unfitted for matrimony, so
that by arranging his marriage with the young Queen, Louis Philippe
presumably calculated that the union would be without issue, which would
place the children by the Queen’s sister and the Duc de Montpensier in
the direct succession to the throne, almost as surely as if Louis
Philippe had arranged that his son should marry Queen Isabella herself.
The pledge which Louis Philippe had given to the Queen of England at Eu
was an obstacle to this heartless project, but the pretext for violating
it was
[Illustration: THE ROYAL PALACE, MADRID.]
ingeniously manufactured by the Queen Dowager Christina. She addressed a
letter, proposing a marriage between Queen Isabella and Leopold of
Saxe-Coburg, to the Duke of Saxe-Coburg, who happened to be on a visit
to the Court of Lisbon. After telling Mr. Bulwer (afterwards Lord
Dalling), the British Minister at Madrid, what this letter contained,
and being warned by him that the English Government could not support
such a proposal, Queen Christina asked him to let her letter go in his
despatch bag, by his messenger. In courtesy he could not refuse this
favour, and Lord Aberdeen, when he heard what had happened, laid the
facts loyally and frankly before M. Guizot. M. Guizot immediately
founded on the incident his monstrous pretext that there was an
Anglo-Portuguese intrigue on foot to marry the Queen of Spain to a
Prince nearly related to the Royal Family of England--the pretext which
released Louis Philippe from the pledge given at the Château d’Eu.
Still, Louis Philippe shrank from taking steps which he was aware must
compromise his reputation; M. Guizot, however, knew how to overcome his
last lingering scruples. To cherish an antipathy to Lord Palmerston, who
had succeeded Lord Aberdeen at the Foreign Office, was a point of honour
with Louis Philippe, who had not forgotten how France was checked in
Syria in 1840, and Lord Palmerston, it must be admitted, indiscreetly
played into M. Guizot’s hands. He wrote on the 18th of December a
despatch to Mr. Bulwer, discussing the marriage of Queen Isabella, and
mentioning--without, however, specially favouring--the candidature of
Prince Leopold, along with that of the various Bourbon Princes. He added
a series of caustic criticisms on the absolutism which tainted the
Government of Spain. A copy of this despatch was given to M. Guizot. He
immediately roused Louis Philippe’s suspicions and distrust by pointing
to its maladroit references to Prince Leopold’s candidature. Then he
sent to Queen Christina a copy of the offensive references to the
absolutism of the Spanish Government. She at once saw, or pretended to
see, in the document indications of an alliance between the English
Government and her enemies the Progressists, which it was quite
reasonable for her to neutralise, by drawing closer the ties between
Spain and France.
Louis Philippe, accordingly, no longer hesitated, nor did the Queen
Dowager, to arrange the marriages of Queen Isabella and her sister to
the Duke of Cadiz and the Duc de Montpensier--in defiance of the pledges
given at the Château d’Eu. The English Government met the announcement
with a diplomatic protest. The King of the French induced Queen Marie
Amélie to announce the “double event” to Queen Victoria, who in reply
sent the following dignified but cutting letter:--
“OSBORNE, _September 10th, 1846_.
“MADAME,--I have just received your Majesty’s letter of the 8th
inst., and I hasten to thank you for it. You will perhaps remember
what passed at Eu between the King and myself; you are aware of the
importance which I have always attached to the maintenance of our
cordial understanding, and the zeal with which I have laboured
towards this end. You have no doubt been informed that we refused
to arrange the marriage between the Queen of Spain and our cousin
Leopold (which the two Queens had eagerly desired), solely with the
object of not departing from a course which would be more agreeable
to the King, although we could not regard that course as the best.
You will therefore easily understand that the sudden announcement
of this double marriage could not fail to cause us surprise and
very keen regret.
“I crave your pardon, Madame, for speaking to you of politics at a
time like this, but I am glad that I can say for myself that I have
always been _sincere_ with you.
“Begging you to present my respectful regards to the King,
“I am, Madame,
“Your Majesty’s most devoted sister and friend.”
The shrewdest comment made on this brilliant diplomatic triumph of
France was Metternich’s. “Tell Guizot from me,” he said, “that one does
not with impunity play little tricks with, great countries”--and
Metternich was right. The loss of the English alliance ruined Louis
Philippe in the eye of public opinion in Europe, and gave courage and
hope to the Liberals in France, who were bent on dethroning him. Austria
took advantage of the estrangement between England and France to absorb
the Republic of Cracow,[56] in defiance of the Treaty of Vienna, so
that, much to the indignation of the French people, they saw, as the
firstfruits of M. Guizot’s diplomacy, the last free banner and city in
Poland vanish from the face of Europe. In England the feeling against
Louis Philippe was one of mingled regret and disgust. The incident,
writes Mr. Greville, “has been a great damper to the Queen’s
_engouement_ for the House of Orleans.”[57] “Nothing more painful,”
wrote the Queen to the Queen of the Belgians, “could possibly have
befallen me than this unhappy difference, both because it has a
character so personal, and because it imposes upon me the duty of
opposing the marriage of a Prince for whom, as well as for all his
family, I entertain so warm a friendship.”[58] “Everybody,” said Lord
Lansdowne writing to Lord Palmerston, “would have to turn over a new
leaf with Louis Philippe.” As for Prince Albert, he felt the blow as a
national insult and a personal wrong, though, according to Baron
Stockmar, both he and the Queen exercised the greatest self-command in
concealing their resentment.[59]
CHAPTER XV.
HOME LIFE AND SOCIAL EVENTS IN 1846.
Prince Albert and the Home Farm--Royalty and the Windsor
Vestry--The New Home at Osborne--The Birth of the Princess
Helena--The Visit of Ibrahim Pasha--A Royal Christening--The
Queen’s Loneliness--Visitors at Osborne--A Cruise in Summer
Seas--The “Lop” of the Channel--In the Channel Islands--The Duke of
Cornwall in his Duchy--Exploring the South Coast--The Queen Acts as
the Family Tutor--Her Majesty among the Iron-miners--The
House-warming at Osborne--Baron Stockmar’s Impressions of the
Queen--Some German Visitors--A Dinner-Party at Windsor--The
Baroness Bunsen’s Picture of the Scene--The Royal Visits to
Hatfield and Arundel--Social Movements in 1846--Dr. Hook’s Pamphlet
on Education--Origin of Secularism--The Triumphs of
Science--Faraday’s Researches--Laying of the First Submarine Cable
at Portsmouth--The Use of Ether in Surgery--Evil Tidings from
Starving Ireland.
Early in 1846 the Royal Family became involved in a little local dispute
that gave the Queen some slight annoyance, and afforded busybodies a
great deal of material for gossip. It was one of those incidents which
serve to remind Royalty that in a free country even the most exalted
station affords no protection from the tyranny of Bumbledom. The
history of the affair is briefly as follows. The parochial rating
authorities of Windsor had long cast hungry eyes on the Flemish Farm
occupied by Prince Albert. It was a good subject for rating if it could
be rated. Thinking that the Prince would be afraid of exposing himself
to public odium, and would therefore contribute submissively to the
support of the poor of the parish, a rate was levied on him by the local
officials. But his Royal Highness resisted the claim, and pleaded, at
the request of the Queen, that the farm was Royal property, which, being
in Royal occupation, was exempt from rates. The most celebrated legal
authorities were consulted, and agreed with his Royal Highness. Hence
the following letter was sent to the official who represented the
parish:--
“WINDSOR CASTLE, _14th January, 1846_.
“SIR,--I am commanded by his Royal Highness Prince Albert to
acknowledge the receipt of the memorial which you have forwarded to
me from the parish officers of Windsor, and in reply to state, that
when a claim was preferred for the payment of rates by the Prince
on account of the Flemish Farm, and when the legal liability of the
Prince was insisted upon by the Vestry, his Royal Highness felt
himself precluded from admitting such a claim without previous
consultation with the highest legal authorities.
“His Royal Highness submitted the whole facts of the case to the
Attorney- and Solicitor-General of her Majesty, and subsequently to
Sir Thomas Wilde. Their opinion was, that his Royal Highness was
not liable, in point of law, to the payment of rates, and that the
admission by him of such liability might constitute a dangerous
precedent, affecting the prerogatives of the Crown.
“In the letter which I addressed to you on the 15th of December, I
informed you ‘that his Royal Highness had no disposition to resist
any claim that could in fairness be made upon him, whatever might
be the legal obligations.’ I have now to inform you, on the part of
his Royal Highness, that if the parochial authorities had continued
to insist on the payment of the demand, made as a matter of legal
right, his Royal Highness would have felt himself compelled, by a
sense of the duty which he owes to her Majesty, to resist the
claim.
“You have informed his Royal Highness that the Vestry of Windsor
has passed resolutions of which the following are copies:--
‘That the Vestry extremely regrets that the resolutions in
reference to the rating of his Royal Highness Prince Albert passed
at the Vestry Meeting held on the 18th September last, should have
been so carried, inasmuch as this meeting is now fully aware that
his Royal Highness is not in any way liable to be rated for Flemish
Farm; and that this Vestry deprecates the garbled statements set
forth in the public journals on this subject.’
“Again--
‘That inasmuch as the maintenance of the poor presses heavily on
the parishioners, a respectful memorial be now presented to his
Royal Highness, praying him to take the state of the parish into
his gracious consideration, and that such memorial be prepared and
presented by the parish officers.’
“His Royal Highness infers from these resolutions that the Vestry
distinctly admits that his Royal Highness is not in any way liable
to be rated for the Flemish Farm; and his Royal Highness feels
himself at liberty to take the course which is most satisfactory to
his own feelings, and to pay as a voluntary contribution, a sum
equal to the rate which would have been annually due had the legal
liability of his Royal Highness been established.
“It is also his Royal Highness’s intention that the payment of the
sum referred to should commence from the year 1841.
“I have the honour to be, your faithful and obedient servant,
“G. E. ANSON. “Henry Darvell, Esq.”
This untoward dispute seemed as if it had been created for the purpose
of worrying the Royal Family by putting Prince Albert in a false
position, and its termination in so satisfactory a manner was deemed
most creditable to the Prince at the time. It, indeed, helped to render
the Prince popular with the middle classes. They saw in him a typical
British ratepayer, who had fought with rating authorities, even as “with
beasts at Ephesus,” and yet survived the strife to enjoy his victory.
The political atmosphere of London became so highly charged with party
passion that her Majesty and Prince Albert, early in February,
determined to migrate to the country. Accordingly, they proceeded to the
Isle of Wight, where they were building a new country-house at Osborne,
and where the
[Illustration: WINDSOR CASTLE.]
Queen herself said, in one of her letters, it was “a relief to be away
from all the bitterness which people create for themselves in London.”
Here her Majesty and her family led a simple, happy, peaceful life,
enjoying to the fullest extent all the innocent delight of planning and
laying out the grounds round their new home. But in March they had to
return to town, and again plunge into the excitement and agitation of
political strife. This period was peculiarly trying for the Queen,
because on the 25th of May she gave birth to a daughter--the Princess
Helena--whose advent into a troubled world was heralded by salvoes of
cannon from the Tower. The event rendered her Majesty unable to receive
personally his Highness Ibrahim Pasha of Egypt, who was one of the
“lions” of the London season in 1846, and who had been entertained with
sumptuous hospitality at the Court of France. Prince Albert, however,
did what lay in his power to make his Highness’s visit pleasant, and on
the 11th of June her Majesty was able to meet him. He dined with the
Queen on the evening of that day, and left our shores expressing the
utmost satisfaction with the welcome he had received from the Sovereign
and the country whose diplomacy had checked his conquering march in
Syria.
When the elections, which Lord John Russell’s assumption of office
rendered necessary, had been held, her Majesty and the Court again left
town, and migrated to their seaside retreat in the Isle of Wight. The
balmy air and the peaceful life revived the Queen, who had been greatly
depressed in spirits at parting with her Ministers, and she was further
cheered by the promise of her uncle, King Leopold of Belgium, to pay her
a visit in time for the christening of the baby Princess. His Majesty
and Queen Louise were unable to arrive, however, till a few days after
the ceremony, which took place at Buckingham Palace on the 25th of July.
The little lady received the names of Helena Augusta Victoria, her
godmother being Hélène, Duchess of Orleans, who, as sponsor, was
represented by the Duchess of Kent. The other sponsors--the Hereditary
Grand Duke of Mecklenburg-Strelitz and H.R.H. the Duchess of
Cambridge--were happily able to attend in person. At the end of the
month the Queen again found her cherished home circle broken, for Prince
Albert was summoned away to Liverpool to open the magnificent Albert
Dock in that city, on the 30th of July. The reports of his speeches, and
the enthusiastic reception with which he was met, brought brightness to
the life of the Queen; but in spite of all that, she evidently could not
conceal her sadness of heart when the head of her family was absent. “As
I write,” said the Prince, with a touch of playful but affectionate
sarcasm, in a letter to the Queen, dated Liverpool, the 30th of July,
“you will be making your evening toilette, and _not_ be in time for
dinner.” Her Majesty, however, had apparently very little thought of the
ceremonial part of her life in her mind at the time, for she was writing
to their old friend, Baron Stockmar, a pretty touching letter, saying,
“I feel very lonely without my dear Master; and though I know other
people are often separated for a few days, I feel habit could not get me
accustomed to it. This, I am sure, you cannot blame. Without him
everything loses its interest.... It will always be a terrible pang to
separate from him, even for two days; and I pray God never to let me
survive him.” In the last words there is indeed a note of pathos which,
in view of the long and lonely widowhood of the Queen, cannot fail to
touch the hearts of her home-loving people.
At the beginning of August the Court circle was again happily reunited
at Osborne, the King and Queen of the Belgians being of the company. The
Queen then decided to proceed on a quiet yachting cruise along the south
coast of England, and accordingly the Royal yacht, with the Royal
Family, and accompanied by the _Fairy_ and the _Eagle_, on the 18th of
August left the island and steamed westward. The weather, however, was
far from propitious, for it blew more than half a gale when, on the
19th, the little pleasure squadron rode out the storm in Portland Roads.
Prince Albert cannot have enjoyed this part of the trip, for the “lop”
in the Channel was not at all to his liking. In a letter, replying
evidently to some allusions to the disagreeableness of the voyage, Lord
Aberdeen, writing from Haddo House, says to the Prince, though content
with life in that far-off northern solitude, “I confess that in reading
of her Majesty’s progress, I have sometimes wished to find myself on the
Royal yacht, even off the Race of Portland.”[60] When the Royal party
arrived at Portland Roads the sea was so rough, and the wind was blowing
so hard, that at first it was feared they could not land. Ultimately,
they did get ashore, and a salute from the Nothe battery warned the town
of their arrival. There was great excitement among the people, who gave
their visitors a warm welcome. Her Majesty is reported to have looked
fresh and well, but the poor Prince, her consort, bore traces in his
pale face of having suffered a good deal. On the 19th, however, the
party, including Lord Spencer, Lord Alfred Paget, Baron Stockmar, the
Hon. Ann Napier, and Lady Jocelyn, sailed away in fair weather to
Devonport. They drove to Astonbury, the seat of the Earl of
Ilchester--then absent in the south of France--to see his lovely grounds
and curious swannery, and subsequently went on to Weymouth, the Queen
again giving orders that she desired as little fuss as possible to be
made about her visit. She landed at the steps which had always been used
for that purpose by George III. The country folk, through whose villages
they passed, despite Lord Alfred Paget’s assurances, refused to believe
that such a quiet and unassuming party of tourists included the Queen
and her Court. A pleasant time was passed as they skimmed over the
sunlit waters of the Tamar, and examined the ancient and picturesque
mansion of the Mount-Edgecumbe family. They next sailed up the Plym to
Lord Morley’s seat at Saltram. Then, when Sunday came round, they stood
out to sea and steered for the Channel Islands.
This was an exceptionally interesting incident in the tour, for, since
the days of King John, no English sovereign had till then set foot in
the old Norman fief of the Crown. Little wonder that Guernsey was all
excitement when they landed. Loyal cheers and addresses greeted the
Queen and her family wherever they went; and the young Prince of Wales,
by reason of his dress, which was that of a miniature seaman, attracted
universal attention. Bands played and guns fired salutes, and pretty
girls in white strewed the path of their young Queen with flowers. A
brief visit to Jersey threw St. Helier into a frenzy of loyalty; after
which the Royal yacht steamed for Falmouth, carrying the little Prince
of Wales to see his Duchy of Cornwall for the first time. “A beautiful
day again,” writes the Queen in her Diary, on the 4th of September--a
Diary which is full of charming descriptions, in her own vivid but
artless style, of this excursion--“a beautiful day again, with the same
brilliantly blue sea. At a quarter to eight o’clock we got under weigh.
There was a great deal of motion at first, and for the greater part of
the day the ship pitched, but getting up the sails steadied her. From
[Illustration: THE QUEEN VISITING A CORNISH IRON MINE. (_See p. 266._)]
five o’clock it became quite smooth; at half-past five we saw land; and
at seven we entered Falmouth Harbour, where we were immediately
surrounded by boats. The calmest night possible, with a beautiful moon,
when we went on deck; every now and then the splashing of oars and the
hum of voices were heard, but they were the only sounds, unlike the
constant dashing of the sea against the vessel which we heard all the
time we were at Jersey.” At eight o’clock next morning (September 5th)
the Royal party left Falmouth, rounded the Lizard, and skirted the bold
and rugged coast that leads to Land’s End. Here, much to the delight of
Prince Albert, the sea was
[Illustration: ON THE CORNISH COAST: PRADANACK POINT.]
smooth. “A little before two,” writes the Queen, “we landed in the
beautiful Mount’s Bay, close below St. Michael’s Mount, which is very
fine. When the bay first opened to our view the sun was lighting up this
beautiful castle, so peculiarly built on a rock which forms an island at
high water.” The sun shone out gloriously as the Queen passed Penzance,
and the smooth sea spread itself like an azure plain under a cloudless
sky. “Soon after our arrival,” she says, “we anchored, and the crowd of
boats was beyond everything; numbers of Cornish pilchard fishermen, in
their curious large boats, kept going round and round, and then
anchored, besides many boats full of people.” “They are,” says her
Majesty, “a very noisy, talkative race, and speak a kind of English
hardly to be understood.” “During the voyage,” adds the Queen, with
maternal satisfaction, “I was able to give Vicky (H.I.H. the Empress
Frederick) her lessons;” indeed, all through these yachting cruises the
Queen insisted, in true English fashion, on acting personally as her
children’s teacher. In fact, it was only when the pressure of public and
social duty became too severe for such labours that her Majesty would
ever consent to delegate the tuition of her children to others; and even
then, she and Prince Albert bestowed on it most vigilant personal
superintendence. In the afternoon, the Royal party, “including the
children,” rowed to the _Fairy_, and steamed round the bay. They visited
St. Michael’s Mount and the smelting works at Penzance, which
monopolised the attention of Prince Albert. “We remained here,” her
Majesty writes, “a little while to sketch, and returned to the _Victoria
and Albert_ by half-past four, the boats crowding round us in all
directions; and when ‘Bertie’ (the Prince of Wales) showed himself the
people shouted, ‘Three cheers for the Duke of Cornwall.’”
Next day they visited the quaint little town of Marazion, or Market Jew,
which lies behind the Mount where the Jews used to traffic in old times.
They inspected the castle, and Prince Albert played on the organ in the
chapel, to the great delight of the Queen and “the children;” after
which he made what the Queen describes as “a beautiful little sketch” of
St. Michael’s Mount itself. On the following day (the 7th) the municipal
dignitaries of Penryn invaded the Royal yacht, and begged to be
introduced to “the Duke of Cornwall.” “So,” writes the Queen, “I stepped
out of the pavilion on deck with Bertie, and Lord Palmerston told them
that that was the Duke of Cornwall; and the old Mayor of Penryn said ‘he
hoped he would grow up a blessing to his parents and to his country.’”
The Fal, winding between wooded banks of dwarfed oaks, and the beautiful
Ruan, with its shores clad with foliage to the water’s edge, were
explored; and at the city of Truro, says the Queen, the whole population
turned out on the banks to give her a welcome, “and were enchanted when
Bertie was held up for them to see.” On the following day the Royal
tourists visited Fowey, “driving,” writes the Queen, “through some of
the narrowest streets I ever saw in England,” and proceeding to the
ivy-clad ruins of Restormel, a castle which belonged to “Bertie” as Duke
of Cornwall.
Here her Majesty was bold enough to explore the iron mines. “You go in
on a level,” she writes. “Albert and I got into one of the trucks and we
were dragged in by the miners, Mr. Taylor” (mineral agent to the Duchy)
“walking behind us. The miners wore a curious woollen dress with a cap,
and they generally have a candlestick in front of the cap. This time
candlesticks were stuck along the sides of the mine, and those who did
not drag or push carried lights. The gentlemen wore miners’ hats. There
was no room to pass between the trucks and the rock, and only just room
enough to hold up one’s head, and not always that. It had a most curious
effect, and there was something unearthly about this lit-up cavern-like
place. We got out and scrambled a little way to see the veins of ore,
and Albert knocked off some pieces.” On the way back they visited
Lostwithiel; and then they returned to Osborne, vastly delighted and
refreshed by their tour.
The Queen’s new house at Osborne was now ready for occupation, and she
and her husband held a “house-warming” ceremony on the 16th of
September,
[Illustration: THE MUNICIPAL DIGNITARIES OF PENRYN INTRODUCED TO THE
PRINCE OF WALES.]
“Our first night,” writes Lady Lyttelton in one of her letters, “in this
house is well spent. Nobody smelt paint or caught cold, and the worst is
over.... After dinner we were to drink to the Queen and the Prince’s
health as a _house-warming_. And after it the Prince said, very
naturally and simply, ‘We have a hymn’ (he called it a psalm) ‘in
Germany for such occasions. It begins,’ and then he repeated two lines
in German which I could not quote right--meaning a prayer to bless our
going out and coming in.”[61] Miss Lucy Kerr, one of the Maids of
Honour, insisted in her Scottish fashion on throwing an old shoe after
the Queen as she crossed the threshold for the first time, and she
further diverted the company by her desire to procure molten lead and
sundry other charms of Scottish witchcraft to bring luck to the Royal
pair.
During the yachting cruise round the south coast, Baron Stockmar appears
to have used his opportunities of close and intimate companionship with
the Queen and her consort to note the changes that time had wrought in
their characters. In his “Memorabilia” he records his impressions. “The
Prince,” he writes, “has made great strides of late.... He has also
gained much in self-reliance. His natural vivacity leads him at times to
jump too rapidly to a conclusion; and he occasionally acts too hastily;
but he has grown too clear-sighted to commit any great mistake.” “And
the Queen also,” writes the same keen and watchful critic, “improves
greatly. She makes daily advances in discernment and experience; the
candour, the love of truth, the fairness, the considerateness with which
she judges men and things, are truly delightful; and the ingenuous
self-knowledge with which she speaks about herself is simply
charming.”[62]
In the autumn, too, some other German friends cheered the Queen with a
visit. The Princess of Prussia, afterwards the Empress Augusta, came on
a visit to her aunt, the Queen Dowager Adelaide, and in September her
Royal Highness went to Windsor. The Baroness Bunsen, who was in her
suite, has given us a charming picture of the happy family circle round
the Queen into which she then found herself introduced. In a letter to
her mother from Windsor Castle, the Baroness writes:--“I arrived here at
six, and at eight went to dinner in the Great Hall, hung round with the
Waterloo pictures. The band played exquisitely, so placed as to be
invisible; so that, what with the large proportions of the hall, and the
well-subdued lights, and the splendours of plate and decoration, the
scene was such as fairy tales present; and Lady Canning, Miss Stanley,
and Miss Dawson were beautiful enough to represent an ideal Queen’s
ideal attendants. The Queen looked well and _rayonnante_, with that
pleased expression of countenance which she has when pleased with what
surrounds her, and which, you know, I like to see.”[63]
In October the Queen and Prince Albert paid another round of visits.
They left Windsor on the 19th and drove to the Queen Dowager’s place at
Cashiobury, where they spent three days in strict privacy. After that
they drove to Lord Clarendon’s seat near Watford, and went on to the
Marquis of Abercorn’s at Stanmore Abbey. Taking a circuitous route by
Reading, they drove to Hatfield, where they visited the Marquis of
Salisbury. But the weather was most disagreeable, and even St. Albans
failed to put up the usual arches of welcome, and bedeck itself in
congratulatory bunting. Four miles from Hatfield they were met by Lord
Salisbury and the
[Illustration: ARUNDEL. (_After the Picture by Vicat Cole, R.A._)]
Duke of Wellington. There was a pleasant party of friends at Hatfield
waiting to welcome the Royal guests, including Lord Melbourne and Lord
John Russell, the latter brooding over the growing uneasiness of the
country and the painful dispute with the Court of France, the former gay
and debonair, as if he had never known what it was to face the storms
and strife of State. The Queen, it seems, was greatly interested in the
treasures of the library, and spent much time poring over the Cecil
papers. Her visit was long talked of in the district, for, in true
baronial style, five hundred labourers were feasted in commemoration of
the event at Hatfield, a great ox being roasted for the banquet, at
which home-brewed ale flowed generously in hogsheads. In December her
Majesty visited the Duke of Norfolk, Master of the Horse, at Arundel. At
Portsmouth and Chichester she was welcomed with cordial demonstrations
of affection, and not only was Arundel illuminated, but, what pleased
her still more, a substantial dinner was given in her honour to every
poor person in the town. Prince Albert, Lord John Russell, and the Earl
of Arundel amused themselves with field sports; but the Queen,
[Illustration: PROFESSOR FARADAY.]
attended by her host, the Duke of Norfolk, and the old Duke of
Wellington, explored objects of interest in the neighbourhood. She held
a formal reception in the great drawing-room of the Castle, and charmed
all the “country people” with her simple, winning ways and sweet
courtesies. It is recorded that at the ball held after this reception
her Majesty distinguished herself by the hearty manner in which she
joined in the dancing, an amusement which was ever a favourite one with
her in those happy days of her golden youth.
But life in the Royal circle was not all amusement. Baron Stockmar bears
testimony to the zeal with which both the Prince and the Queen devoted
themselves at this time to business and graver studies. And many events
were happening, many intellectual and social movements beginning to
develop, which keenly interested them. The unsatisfactory position of
British art--emphasised by the fate of Haydon, who committed suicide in
despair of ever interesting the English people in the higher forms of
art--the development of the great movement in favour of popular
education, and the rise of what afterwards came to be known as the Party
of Secularism, were keenly canvassed during the latter part of this
eventful year in every circle where thoughtful men and women met.
Among the many remarkable movements that arose when the country was
liberated from the strain of the Free Trade agitation, was that which
originated the strife between parties as to the share which the Church
and the State should take in the work of education. A crude and
rudimentary scheme of national education was part of Lord John Russell’s
programme, and the attention of the country had been excited by a
pamphlet published by the late Dr. Hook, then Vicar of Leeds, afterwards
Dean of Chichester, in which he proposed a plan which very much
resembles that which the late Mr. W. E. Forster induced Parliament to
accept in 1870. Her Majesty and Prince Albert were deeply interested in
Dr. Hook’s plan, the leading points of which were: (1) Schools to be
universally supported by the State; (2) Education to be secular, but one
day in the week to be set apart for religious instruction, which should
be given by each denomination to the children of its own members.
The Secularist Party owed their origin to Mr. Holyoake, who at this time
began to propagate the system of ethics known as Secularism, a system
which aimed at promoting the welfare of mankind by human means, and
measuring it by utilitarian standards. The service of others he held to
be the highest duty of life. Secularism rejoiced in life as the sphere
of exalting duties. It was a religion of doubt, neither affirming nor
denying the existence of a Deity. Ultimately it came to be termed
Agnosticism, and the working classes seemed to be considerably
influenced by Mr. Holyoake’s teaching during this year and a few of the
years that followed.
In the year 1846 the scientific world was greatly interested by the
publication of a most extraordinary series of experimental researches in
electricity conducted by Faraday, illustrating alike the genius of the
man and the spirit and methods of scientific investigation during the
early part of the Victorian epoch. That spirit was, in the main,
antagonistic to vacuous speculation or unprofitable theorising. It was
daring enough in its utilitarianism to track by direct experiment the
subtle elements of, or prove by tangible demonstration what were the
occult relations which subsisted between, forms of matter and modes of
force. “I have long held the opinion,” wrote Faraday, “that the various
forms under which the forces of matter are made manifest have one common
origin, or, in other words, are so directly related and mutually
dependent, that they are convertible, as it were, into one another, and
possess equivalents of power in their action.... I recently resumed the
inquiry by experiment in a most strict and searching manner, and have at
last succeeded in magnetising and electrifying a ray of light and in
illuminating a magnetic line of force.”[64] The phrase is not a
felicitous one to express the idea of the transformation and
transmutation of the forces, but it is worth citing as the original
expression used. The paper from which it is taken simply proved that a
ray of polarised light sent through certain transparent substances in
the line of action connecting the two poles of a magnet, became visible
or invisible just as the current was flowing or was stopped. In another
paper “On New Magnetic Actions,” Faraday proved that a non-magnetic body
suspended freely in the line of a magnetic current is repelled by either
pole, and takes up a position at right angles to the line, and,
therefore, at right angles to the line a magnetic body would assume in
similar circumstances.
But perhaps one of the most interesting events, to Prince Albert at
least, was the laying of the first submarine telegraph cable at
Portsmouth on the 13th of December, 1846. In the year 1843 telegraphic
communication from the Nine Elms terminus at Portsmouth to Gosport had
been established. Then the wires were continued to the Clarence
Victualling Yard. The harbour, however, still intervened between the end
of the wire and the Port Admiral’s house, and it was supposed to be
impossible to connect the two points electrically under water. The first
plan suggested was to lay the wires in metal cases, to be fixed in
position by divers with diving-bells. But it was finally agreed to lay
the wires in a stout cable, and this was done without the use of a
return wire. The first message sent over it thus demonstrated that water
would act as a ready conductor in completing the electrical circuit, and
almost immediately projectors were developing a plan for laying a
submarine cable to France. This and the discovery of the use of ether as
an anæsthetic in surgery--the first painless operation being performed
on a patient under its influence by Mr. Liston in University College
Hospital--were the chief practical achievements in science during a year
which closed with anxious forebodings from Ireland and the Highlands of
Scotland, where the scourge of famine was again smiting the people.
[Illustration: THE LAKES OF KILLARNEY.
(_From a Photograph by W. Lawrence, Dublin._)]
CHAPTER XVI.
A DISTRESSFUL COUNTRY.
The Irish Crisis--Famine and Free Trade--Evictions and
Imports--Fiscal Policy and Small Holdings--Shocking Scenes among
the Irish People--The Mistake of the Government--Lord John
Russell’s Relief Measure Rejected by his Colleagues--An Autumnal
Cabinet Meeting--Opening of Parliament--The Queen and the
Distress--The Remedial Measures of the Government--Rival Schemes of
the Protectionists--Lord George Bentinck’s Railway Subsidies
Bill--A Rival Ministerial Scheme--The Attack on the Bank Act of
1844--The Currency Controversy--Peel on a Convertible Currency--The
Effect of the Railway Mania--Blaming the Bank--The Education
Question--Opposition of Dissenters--Colonisation and
Emigration--Lord Lincoln’s Motion--Is Emigration a Remedy for a
Redundant Population?--The Cabinet and the Ten Hours Bill--Mr.
Fielden’s Victory--Opposition of Manufacturers--Evading the
Act--The Budget--The Queen and the Duchy of Lancaster--Lord
Campbell and the Queen--A Famous Duchy Dinner--Privy Councillors at
“High Jinks”--Death of Lord Bessborough--Lord Clarendon appointed
Irish Viceroy--Death of O’Connell--Growing Weakness of the
Cabinet--Prorogation of Parliament--Dissolution--The General
Election--The State of Parties--Appalling Outrages in
Ireland--Another Commercial Panic--Suspension of the Bank Act--The
Queen and Sir Robert Peel--Parliament Summoned--A Coercion Bill for
Ireland--Ireland and the Vatican--Lord Palmerston’s Correspondence
with Lord Minto--Denunciations of the Queen’s Colleges--Projected
Renewal of Diplomatic Relations with Rome--Lord Palmerston’s
Objections--The Jews in Parliament--New Bishops--The Hampden
Controversy--Baffled Heresy-hunters.
Distress is the word that sums up the life of the nation during 1847. If
there be any inadequacy in the summary, it may be made good by the
addition to it of--sectarian bigotry. Famine in Ireland, two commercial
panics in England, religious controversies of the narrowest and most
paltry character, and over all, the wind of Socialism moaning
bodefully--there, in a sentence, we have a picture of this melancholy
year. It will spot black in English history as the year of the Great
Irish Famine. Whether Free Trade did or did not aggravate the distress
in Ireland will always be a moot point with writers and historians who
are partisans. The Protectionists warned Parliament that Free Trade
would bring hard times to the rural poor in Ireland, and in 1847 they
began to take credit for being good prophets, for it was
[Illustration: GLENDALOUGH VALLEY, CO. WICKLOW--VIEW IN GLENDALOUGH.
(_After Photographs by W. Lawrence, Dublin._)]
not only famine that had to be dealt with in that country; it was famine
plus pauperism and pestilence.
Looking back at the condition of affairs that obtained in Ireland in
1847, one is surprised that statesmen did not foresee what was coming.
Irish industries, with the exception of the manufacture of linen, had
been crushed by the commercial policy of England. It was not till 1825,
a quarter of a century after the Union, that a true commercial union
between Ireland and Great Britain was effected, and absolute Free Trade
was established between the two countries. By that time English
industries had got a great start, and when Free Trade was conceded to
Ireland, she was no longer fit to compete with England, even in the
industries that were indigenous to her soil. But as her wealth was
chiefly agricultural, in husbandry, at all events, she might have been
expected to hold her own. The high prices that followed the wars with
France made Irish farmers, large and small, both rich and prosperous.
But in 1815 the piping times of peace brought ruin to many of them. The
fall in prices tempted the tenants to demand more land, so that, by
carrying on tillage on a larger scale, they might be able to hold the
market. This logically led to consolidation of holdings, which, in turn,
led to evictions, agrarian outrage, and crime.
In one respect, however, the position of Ireland was safeguarded. The
Corn Laws, which imposed a prohibitory duty on foreign grain, allowed
Irish corn to enter the English market freely. Corn was therefore
largely grown in Ireland under Protection. But when Protection was
abandoned, Irish, farmers lost the only prop they had--the tariff which
left them profits in excess of rent. The effect of Free Trade in Ireland
was naturally to reduce prices. It therefore did not pay after 1846 to
grow corn in Ireland, and the alternative crop was cattle. But the
rearing of cattle is best managed on a large scale and on large farms.
Hence a movement in Ireland was set on foot for further consolidation of
holdings--a movement, in other words, for a fresh policy of eviction
that brought outrage in its train. Mr. Jephson has shown that “the
adoption by Great Britain of free importation of food supplies from any
part of the world must have revolutionised Irish agriculture and vitally
affected the circumstances of the Irish, and it is not on the political
connection between the two countries (which the Nationalists are now
trying to break), but it is on the economic dependence of Ireland
on England (which is unbreakable) that must be thrown the
responsibility.”[65] A very curious and instructive table of figures
might be drawn up to prove this point:--
AGRICULTURAL HOLDINGS IN IRELAND.
+-----+--------------+-----------------+-------------------+------------+
|Year.|Above One Acre|Above Five Acres |Above Fifteen Acres|Above Thirty|
| |to Five Acres.|to Fifteen Acres.| to Thirty Acres. | Acres. |
+-----+--------------+-----------------+-------------------+------------+
| 1841| 310,436 | 252,800 | 79,342 | 40,625 |
| 1851| 88,083 | 191,854 | 141,311 | 149,090 |
| 1861| 85,469 | 183,931 | 141,251 | 157,833 |
| 1871| 74,809 | 171,383 | 138,647 | 159,303 |
| 1881| 67,071 | 164,045 | 135,793 | 159,834 |
+-----+--------------+-----------------+-------------------+------------+
Thus it is seen that since Free Trade was adopted, small holdings in
Ireland have been diminishing, whereas large holdings have been
increasing; and that would be in favour of Lord George Bentinck’s
contention, which in 1847 gave the utmost annoyance to Mr. Cobden and
his friends, that Free Trade caused the Irish Famine. Perhaps the true
view is, that in manufacturing districts, where the mass of the people
did not live by selling produce from the soil, the fall in the price of
grain which followed Free Trade was a boon. To a country like Ireland,
on the other hand, where the mass of the people lived on the profits of
tillage on a small scale, Free Trade came as a disaster. Coupled with
the failure of the potato crop, it meant famine in 1847.
Literally, the great mass of the Irish people were by this time
starving. Their savings were gone, and as for economising, it was
hopeless. A nation that lives on potatoes alone--the cheapest and worst
form of human food the earth can yield--has already lowered its standard
of comfort to zero. Beggary is the only alternative to a potato diet:
for potato-feeders, as Mr. J. S. Mill has observed, “retrenchment is
impossible.” Public works were therefore started for the relief of the
people, and to these tottering skeletons dragged themselves in despair,
often to die almost as soon as they began their task. A few ounces of
oatmeal were reckoned a day’s ration for a family, and those who
survived cold and hunger were swept away by typhus. The scenes in the
overcrowded workhouses recalled the horrors that are immortalised in
Defoe’s “History of the Plague.” In the towns the sufferings of the
people were not less keen and cruel. “Daily in the street,” writes Mr.
A. M. Sullivan in “New Ireland,” “and on the footway, some poor creature
lay down as if to sleep, and presently was still and stark. In one
district it was a common occurrence to find, on opening the front door
in the early morning, leaning against it the corpse of some victim who
in the night had ‘rested’ in its shelter. We raised a public
subscription and employed two men with horse and cart to go round each
day to gather up the dead. One by one they were taken to Ardrahahair
Abbey, and dropped through the hinged bottom of a ‘trap coffin’ into a
common grave below. In the rural districts even this rude sepulchre was
impossible. In the fields and by the ditches the victims lay as they
fell, till some charitable hand was found to cover them with the
adjacent soil.” And yet during this time, as Lord George Bentinck said,
the food exports of Ireland were greater than those of any other country
in the world, not merely relatively but absolutely in proportion to
people or area. As Mr. Henry George observes,[66] “grain and meal and
butter were carted for exportation along roads lined with the starving,
and past trenches into which the dead were piled.”
During the preceding autumn the Government had quite under-estimated the
gravity of the situation in Ireland. They had given a pledge that they
would not disturb the food market, and they relied on the ordinary
capital of the nation to obtain supplies for a starving country, in the
greater part of which there was by this time neither capital nor
commerce. They imagined
[Illustration: THE IRISH FAMINE: INTERIOR OF A PEASANT’S HUT.]
that the law of supply and demand would feed the people, and that
whenever hunger smote them in a desolate district, there merchants and
retailers of food would spring up as if by magic. Meetings of the
Cabinet Council were
[Illustration: LORD BROUGHAM, 1850. (_From a Sketch of the Period_.)]
held, it is true; and a glimpse at their deliberations is afforded us by
Lord Campbell, who says he was summoned to attend a meeting of the
Cabinet on the 20th October, at which the impending aggravation of the
calamity was discussed. He adds:--“Lord John Russell has been severely
blamed for not having immediately made an Order in Council to open the
ports for the introduction of corn _duty free_. He actually proposed
this measure, but was overruled, his colleagues being almost unanimously
against him. In our then state of knowledge I think we were right not to
tamper with the law as it had been recently settled, particularly as an
Order in Council of this nature would have induced a necessity for the
immediate meeting of Parliament, which, on account of the state of
Ireland, was universally deprecated. The course we adopted was applauded
till the accounts of Irish destitution became daily more appalling. We
employed ourselves in considering the Bills which were to be brought
forward at the meeting of Parliament, and Committees of the Cabinet were
appointed to prepare them. Cabinet dinners were given once a week, and
we were still in good spirits, hoping that the scarcity of this winter
would not be more severe than that of the preceding.”[67] Ministers were
painfully undeceived.
When the Session of Parliament opened on the 19th of January, 1847, the
Queen, in reading her speech, seemed downcast and sorrowful, and her
voice is said to have trembled and fallen low as she spoke of the
sufferings of the Celtic population, and commended the patience and
exemplary resignation with which their hardships were borne. And well
might her voice and heart sink, for at that time the newspapers teemed
with descriptions of scenes of suffering in Ireland, more harrowing than
any which the most lurid pages of history record--scenes in which
pestilence dogged the track of famine, and perishing wretches fought
with each other like wild beasts for carrion. They were more dreadful
even than those that live for ever in the ghastly narrative of Josephus,
and, as Lord Brougham said in the Upper House, they recalled the canvas
of Poussin and the dismal chant of Dante.[68]
Lord John Russell explained, on the 25th of January, the plans of the
Government. Some £2,000,000 were advanced to feed the Irish people on
doles of Indian meal, and to give them work and wages. A new Irish Poor
Law, based on the English principle that property must support
pauperism, was introduced, much to the disgust of the Irish landlords.
The Corn Law and Navigation Acts were to be temporarily suspended. The
Tories, not to seem laggards in the race of philanthropy, through Lord
George Bentinck brought in a Bill to raise £16,000,000 for the
construction of new railways in Ireland, so that employment might be
given to the poor. His plan was that for every £100 expended on a line,
£200 should be lent to its promoters by the Government at the same rate
of interest at which it had been borrowed, and it was significant that
in drafting his measure Lord George had been guided by Mr. Hudson, “the
Railway King,” who made railways, and Mr. Alderman Thompson, who
supplied materials for their construction. The House rejected the
project as one designed to invest the money of the taxpayers in
speculative enterprises for the benefit of financial “rings,” who had
duped the Protectionist leader. Ministers, however, to the surprise of
the House, followed up this rejected measure with a Bill of their own on
the 26th of April, providing for advancing Treasury Loans, amounting in
all to £620,000, repayable at 5 per cent. interest, to Irish railways,
50 per cent. of whose capital was paid up. In fact, it was the fag end
of Lord George Bentinck’s proposal, and, as Sir Robert Peel said, if the
Government had saved money on the expenditure in relief works, it would
have been wiser to increase the Treasury balances than subsidise private
speculators in Ireland. On the other hand, there was a popular feeling
that some aid should be given to Irish railway enterprise, which might
lead to an absorption of unemployed labour, and the objections to Lord
George Bentinck’s gigantic scheme--namely, its interference with the
ordinary operations of trade, and the absence of adequate administrative
machinery--did not lie against a proposal to assist great arterial lines
of railway already under construction.
During the discussions on these measures, Sir Robert Peel’s Bank
Restriction Act of 1844 was continually attacked by the Protectionists
as the cause of the prevailing financial distress. The object of that
Act was to insure the convertibility of paper currency into gold, so
that the holder of a bank-note might always be certain that he could get
an equivalent in coin for it on demand. The country was suffering from a
scarcity of money to trade with, and this scarcity was traced to the
restriction of the Bank’s paper issues. On the contrary, it was really
due (1) to failure of the food crops, which involved a loss of
£16,000,000 sterling of capital; (2) to the rise in the price of cattle,
due to a failure of crops; (3) to a loss of £16,000,000 in gambling
speculations during the railway mania of 1845-46.
This mania, which produced such monstrous schemes during the close of
1845, began to bear evil fruits when holders of scrip, in face of
falling markets, were haunted with visions of bankruptcy. A return was
issued, by order of the House of Commons, containing the names of the
unhappy individuals who, during the Session of 1845, had subscribed
towards railways in England, Scotland, and Ireland, for sums of less
than £2,000. It is a huge catalogue, extending over 540 folio pages, and
forms the oddest jumble of “all sorts and conditions of men.” Vicars and
vice-admirals elbow each other in the reckless race after easy-gotten
gain. Peers struggle with printers, and barristers with butchers, for
the favours of Mr. Hudson, “the Railway King,” who was the presiding
genius of this greedy rabble. Cotton-spinners and cooks, Queen’s Counsel
and attorneys, college scouts and Catholic priests, editors and
flunkeys, dairymen and dyers, beer-sellers and ministers of the Gospel,
bankers and their butlers, engineers and excisemen, relieving officers
and waiters at Lloyd’s, domestic servants and policemen, engineers and
mail-guards, with a troop of others whose callings are not describable,
figured in the motley mob of small gamblers. Lord
Beaconsfield’s brilliant and satirical sketch of Mr. Vigo’s fortunes in
“Endymion” is based on the mania with which Mr. Hudson infected England,
and which exhausted the floating capital of the country in a time of
famine. In the beginning of 1846, when in obedience to the Standing
Order of the House the deposit of 10 per cent. on railway capital had to
be lodged with the Accountant-General, the Money Market was greatly
alarmed. It
[Illustration: THE BANK OF ENGLAND.]
was estimated that £10,000,000 would have to be lodged in compliance
with the law on the 29th of January, and on the 10th the _Times_, in a
memorable article, declared that to lock up half that sum for a week in
the circumstances would produce “the greatest inconvenience and
pressure.”[69]
It was in vain that the officers of the Crown and the Government were
implored by the trading community, who dreaded a Gold Famine, to
sanction a deviation from the rigid rule of the Standing Order in face
of the exceptional outbreak of an epidemic of speculation. This reached
its height, it seems to us, just a month before the Governor of the Bank
of England could be persuaded that the potato-rot was rendering famine
inevitable. In the quarter ending September, 1845, there were in the
market for sale £500,000,000 of stock, scrip, or letters of allotment.
The shocking waste of resources that this covered is proved by two sets
of figures. According to the Chancellor of the Exchequer, in the years
1842-46, the capital authorised to be raised was in each year
respectively £6,000,000, £4,500,000, £18,000,000, £59,000,000, and for
the last of these years £126,000,000! In 1842-45 the amounts
[Illustration: THE QUEEN IN THE ROYAL GALLERY, ST. GEORGE’S CHAPEL.
(_After the Portrait by G. E. Dawe, 1846._)]
expended, however, were only £3,000,000, £4,500,000, £6,000,000,
£14,000,000, and £36,000,000. In the latter half of 1846, of an
authorised capital of £146,000,000, only £27,000,000 was spent. But in
the records of the Victorian epoch there is nothing more curious than
this fact--that of the vast sum expended during this mania, one-fifth
was spent on buying land and on Parliamentary expenses, and the
remaining four-fifths on materials and labour, skilled and unskilled.
Some idea of the resources and the folly of the England of Queen
Victoria’s youth may be gained from the fact that, during the period
1843-47, £170,000,000 were raised--£130,000,000 by shares and
£40,000,000 by loans--in order to open 3,665 miles of railway for
traffic.[70] It has been said that the Railway Mania was at its height
in the quarter ending September, 1845. The Bank rate of interest then
stood at 2½ per cent. In November it rose to 3½ per cent., and then
panic smote timid investors. They glutted the market with their shares.
And yet the curious thing is that the witnesses who were examined before
the Committee of the House of Commons on Commercial Distress seem to
agree in asserting that the general trade of the country was active at
the time, and that very few people had the slightest suspicion that it
was utterly unsound. Mr. E. Gardner of Manchester, in his evidence, gave
an excellent and vivid sketch of industrial England at this period, when
he said: “The commercial difficulty began, I think, about the middle of
1846. A good deal of business was done in 1846, but trade was not in a
wholesome state; it appeared to flourish by the great abundance of
money, and the great facility in getting long paper discounted.... I
think, in the early part of 1846, _we were at about the height of our
apparent prosperity_.... In the manufacturing districts there was a
greater supply of goods than was justified by the demand. Immediately
after the China Treaty, so great a prospect was held out to the country
of a great extension of our commerce with China, that there were many
large mills built with a view to that trade exclusively, in order to
manufacture that class of cloth which is principally taken for the China
market.... This trade turned out most ruinous; the losses averaged from
10 to 60 or 70 per cent.”[71] This is a fact which may be commended to
the attention of a powerful Party in the latter years of the Queen’s
reign which cherishes the perfectly erroneous belief, that an aggressive
foreign policy necessarily and invariably stimulates commerce by
“opening up new markets.”
No issue of paper money in 1847-48 could relieve a strain due to such
causes as these, though some blame must be given to the Bank for not
checking the drain of gold by raising the discount rate at the beginning
of the year, when the failure of the potato crop in Ireland was
manifest. But to issue £2,000,000 of notes without any increase in the
real capital of the country, which could alone command foreign produce,
would have been an illusory measure of relief. The heated discussions on
these and cognate questions ended in May; in June the pressure on the
Money Market began to be relaxed, and the crisis passed away for the
time--only to reappear, as we shall see, later on in the autumn.
The Education Vote in 1847 raised a great storm of sectarian
controversy, not only in Parliament, but throughout the country. The
first sign that the State in England gave of awakening to the
educational destitution of the country was in 1833, when the House of
Commons voted £20,000 in aid of elementary public instruction. In a
burst of generosity, £39,000 was voted in 1839. In 1845 the grant was
raised to £100,000, but the money could only be shared by Protestant
schools, because the Privy Council decreed that no school was to be
subsidised unless “the Authorised Version of the Scriptures” was read in
it. This of course cut off the Roman Catholics from any participation in
the grant; and when, in 1847, the Education Vote came before the House
of Commons, all liberal-minded men condemned the sectarian restrictions
in dispensing the grants which were imposed by the Government. Sir
Robert Peel, Mr. Macaulay, and Sir W. Molesworth all attacked the
regulation of the Council, which pressed so harshly against the Roman
Catholics; and Lord John Russell was fain to give pledges that the rule
would be relaxed. During these debates, some of the High Church Tories,
like Sir Robert Inglis, the Member for the University of Oxford, accused
Peel of supporting the policy of Toleration in order to conciliate
Catholic voters at the coming election. It is curious to note that the
plan of the Government, offering equal pecuniary aid on equal terms to
all schools accepting Government inspection, was opposed by the
Dissenters; and even Mr. Bright declared that it was a dangerous
interference with the voluntary exertions of the people to educate
themselves. At this time it was thought a lesser evil to let the
children of the poor remain ignorant, than to establish a system of
education which was made applicable to all sects, by omitting
distinctive points of sectarian teaching from the lessons given in the
schools. The Dissenters objected to the Established Church getting a new
endowment in the shape of grants in aid of their schools. The
Secularists objected to public money in any form being spent in
subsidising sectarian schools, even though these were under State
inspection.
In June the subject of colonisation stirred up some discussion in the
country. Ever since Mr. Charles Buller, in 1843, had emphasised the
distinction between colonisation and emigration, a party had existed who
taught that it was not wise to leave the settlement of our Colonial
Empire to the chances of casual or voluntary emigration. Lord Lincoln
attempted to enforce their teaching by drawing the attention of the
House of Commons, on the 1st of June, 1847, to the importance of this
question in its bearing on Irish distress. He moved an Address to the
Queen praying her to take into consideration the means by which
colonisation might be made subsidiary to other measures for the benefit
of Ireland. He urged that the Government should endeavour to direct the
surplus or redundant labouring population of Ireland to Canada and
Natal, and suggested the appointment of a Commission of Inquiry. The
plan was opposed by Mr. Vernon Smith as vague, and as likely to prove
too costly for an embarrassed country like Ireland; and by Lord John
Russell, who thought that the Colonies would be alienated if the mother
country led them to suspect she was exporting to them the dregs of her
population. Still, on the general principle that it was well for a weak
Government to be conciliatory, Lord John Russell permitted Lord Lincoln
to carry his Address, but only on the understanding that it was not to
lead to any practical result.
[Illustration: JOSEPH HUME.]
Emigration, however, was a painful remedy for famine in Ireland, because
the Celt regards exile with horror. Nor was the emigrant in those days
treated very much better in his journey over the Atlantic, than the
slave during the time when tales of the “middle passage” thrilled the
nerves of English philanthropists. The overcrowding in the ships was
scandalous, most of them carrying double their complement of passengers,
utterly regardless of the law. Twelve times as many died on the voyage,
as perished in ordinary circumstances. In quarantine the death rate
rose from 1·75 to 40 per 1,000. Three thousand emigrants are said to
have perished in Montreal in half a year. The emigrants were weaklings,
ill-fitted for the rough life of a colony, and, when they landed with
the symptoms of famine fever, they were shunned like lepers, save when
they found a refuge in a hospital. “There is no subject,” says the late
Sir Charles Trevelyan, “of which a merely one-sided view is more
commonly taken than that of emigration. The evils arising from the
[Illustration: THE WOODS BEFORE THE EMIGRANT: VIRGIN FOREST IN CANADA.]
crowded state of the population, and the facility with which large
numbers of persons may be transferred to other countries, are naturally
uppermost in the minds of landlords and ratepayers; but her Majesty’s
Government, to which the well-being of the British population in every
quarter of the globe is confided, must have an equal regard to the
interests of the emigrant and of the colonial community of which he may
become a member. It is a great mistake to suppose that even Canada and
the United States have an unlimited capacity of absorbing a new
population. The labour market in the settled district is always so
nearly full, that a small addition to the persons in search of
employment makes a sensible difference; while the clearing of land
requires the possession of resources and a power of sustained exertion
not ordinarily belonging to the newly-arrived Irish emigrant. In this,
as well as in the other operations by which society is formed and
sustained, there is a natural process which cannot with impunity be
departed from. A movement is continually going on towards the backwoods
on the part of the young and enterprising portion of the settled
population and of such of the fewer emigrants as have acquired means and
experience, and the room thus made is occupied by persons recently
arrived from Europe who have only their labour to depend on. The
conquest of the wilderness requires more than the ordinary share of
energy and perseverance, and every attempt that has yet been made to
turn paupers into backwoodsmen has ended in signal failure. As long as
they were rationed they held together in a feeble, helpless state, and
when the issue of the rations ceased they generally returned to the
settled parts of the country.”[72]
These considerations were rather lost sight of in this curious
discussion which, with the best of motives, Lord Lincoln initiated. The
feeling of the landed class as reflected in the debate was that,
whenever too many people were reared on their estates, the Government
should in some way or other help them to get rid of their surplus
labour. In Ireland for years a redundant population had been encouraged
for political purposes by the landlords who owned their votes; and it is
curious to observe that those who favoured the growth of that population
do not seem to have considered that they, and not the State, should
assist them to emigrate. A redundant population in every case is
obviously an incident of property in land, and it has to be endured and
dealt with like any other drawback of territorial ownership. The
landlord who has to pay out of his own pocket the emigration expenses of
his surplus labourers, will not be eager to promote emigration to an
extent likely to injure his country.
The weakness of the Government was further illustrated by their manner
of dealing with the Labour Laws. They did not, like their predecessors
in Sir R. Peel’s Ministry, flatly oppose all projects for lessening the
hours of factory work. But they refused to make them Ministerial
questions, though it must be admitted that Lord John Russell, undismayed
by the attitude of the Radical manufacturers, did not flinch from
supporting these benevolent measures.
Here it may not be amiss to say that for several years Lord Ashley had
fought hard to get what was called the “Ten Hours Bill” carried--the
Bill limiting the hours of employment of children and young persons in
factories. The Tory Government had opposed and thwarted him. Radical
Free Traders like Mr. Bright had been among his fiercest antagonists.
Lord Ashley’s courage, however, was undaunted, and he persistently
returned year after year to the charge. In 1846, unfortunately, he
disappeared from the Parliamentary arena. He approved of Sir Robert
Peel’s Free Trade policy, but deemed it his duty to resign his seat, so
that his constituents in Dorsetshire, who had elected him as a
Protectionist, might express their opinions on his change of front. They
rejected him, and thus it came to pass that Mr. John Fielden, Member for
Oldham, took charge of the Ten Hours Bill in his stead. Mr. Fielden was
hopeful of making progress with the measure because, though Sir Robert
Peel and his colleagues had steadily opposed it, the chief of the new
Ministry, Lord John Russell, had favoured the project. Then it so
happened that a large number of the old Tories who followed Lord George
Bentinck were to be counted on as sympathetic allies. The repeal of the
Corn Laws they regarded as a blow dealt by the manufacturing class at
the landed interest. If they voted now for the Ten Hours Bill, they
would in turn be dealing a blow at the manufacturing interest--and,
moreover, they would be delivering a vote of vengeance against the
Peelites. When on the 26th of January Mr. Fielden obtained leave to
bring in a Bill limiting the hours of labour of women and children in
factories to ten hours a day, the Government seem to have found it an
embarrassing question. They therefore determined to treat it as an
“open” one. They appear to have arranged that whilst the Chancellor of
the Exchequer--Sir C. Wood--and Mr. Milner Gibson should vote against
the Bill, Lord John Russell, Lord Morpeth, and Sir George Grey should
vote for it, distinctly saying at the same time that they desired not a
ten hours but an eleven hours Bill. It has been usual to represent the
beneficent factory legislation with which Lord Ashley’s name is
associated as one of the triumphs of Tory policy. It was nothing of the
kind. For years the Tory Government, under Peel’s guidance, had resisted
the measure, and Lord Ashley’s chief antagonist in those days was Sir
James Graham. Lord Ashley was a Peelite himself--but Peel was one of the
strongest opponents of a measure the principles of which, however, his
father approved. Against the Bill the chief speakers were Mr. Joseph
Hume, Mr. Bright, Dr. Bowring, Mr. Mark Phillips, and Mr. Roebuck. For
the Bill were Mr. Fielden, Lord John Manners, Mr. Newdegate, Mr. Muntz,
Mr. Sharman Crawfurd, and Sir Robert Inglis--an odd mixture of Liberals
and Tories. On the 17th of February the second reading was carried by a
vote of 195 to 87, and Lord John Russell received the most effusive
expressions of gratitude from all parts-of the country, for using his
influence as Premier in favour of the Bill. The third reading passed by
a majority of 88, and in the Lords the opposition, despite the furious
assault which Lord Brougham made on the measure, dwindled down so that
the second reading was carried by a vote of 53 to 11.
Yet the Bill was not a model Bill. The Factory Act of 1844 fixed 69
hours a week as the working time for women and children. Mr. Fielden’s
Act fixed the hours at 63 from the 1st of July, 1847, and at 58 from the
1st of May, 1848, But it allowed the period in the day when employment
was offered to remain as fixed by the Act of 1844. The Act of 1847 was
therefore systematically evaded. The ten hours’ work could be exacted
between 5.30 a.m. and 8 p.m. Mills were accordingly kept running during
the full period of employment, with what the mill-owners pretended to
be “relays” of hands, but in such a manner that the inspectors found it
impossible to prevent breaches of the law. The competition in business
was so keen that an extension of the “shift” and “relay” system was
inevitable--and the Act was so badly drawn that when the legality of the
system was tested, the Court of Exchequer ruled that it was not
forbidden.
The Session of 1847 was dull. Members were worn out by the reaction
[Illustration: THE LOWER WARD, WINDSOR CASTLE.]
from the passionate excitement and the repeated shocks of those
Ministerial crises which exhausted Parliament in 1846. One gap in the
long line of Irish relief measures we can descry, and even then it was
made by an eleemosynary measure giving compensation to West India
planters for the loss they were likely to suffer from the abolition of
the differential duties on foreign sugar. A Bill to shorten service in
the army, and one establishing a new Bishopric at Manchester, were also
among the measures passed during the Session. On the 22nd of February
the Chancellor of the Exchequer, Sir Charles Wood--afterwards Lord
Halifax--made his financial statement. Wood was a member of the Grey
section of the Cabinet, and it was of him in after-years that Mr. Grant
Duff once impudently remarked, “Providence, in its inscrutable purposes,
had deprived him of clearness of
[Illustration: LORD CAMPBELL’S AUDIENCE OF THE QUEEN. (_See p. 290._)]
expression--nay, almost of the gift of articulate speech itself.” The
reporters of the old school used to tell merry tales of their
difficulties in making sense of his financial speeches, but with some of
his colleagues he was popular. He showed courage in fighting the Irish
famine, and he did not flinch in the monetary crisis of October which
followed it. But his _brusquerie_ of manner and indistinctness of speech
made many enemies, especially among deputations who waited on him. He
was not, therefore, the fittest person to make heavier demands on the
national purse than had been heard of for many years--and yet that was
just what he did. But there was one consoling fact on which he dwelt. In
spite of distress, the revenue from customs and excise during 1846 had
far exceeded Mr. Goulburn’s estimates. It had left Sir C. Wood with a
balance of £9,000,000 in hand, and though it showed no signs of falling
off, yet a commercial crisis was to be looked for similar to those of
1825 and 1836. Sir C. Wood therefore estimated for a forthcoming revenue
of £52,065,000; but then he said he had to provide for an expenditure
which, owing to the changes wrought by the introduction of steam power
into the navy and the arsenals, must rise to £57,570,000. Still, as
£10,000,000 would be wanted as extraordinary expenditure on Irish
distress, there was a deficit to be made good. This he proposed to meet
by borrowing £8,000,000--the other £2,000,000 consisted of advances to
local authorities, and would be repaid--fresh taxation being ill adapted
to hard times. His surplus was £489,000, and to it would be added
£450,000 he hoped to get from China. The Famine Loan was floated at £3
7s. 6d. per cent., but so eager were the Government to get the money
that a discount of 5 per cent. was by a resolution of the House of
Commons ordered to be given to those who paid in their contributions
before the 18th of June.
During the early part of the Session the Queen’s interest seems to have
been chiefly limited to the ceremonial side of affairs, though, of
course, foreign policy, which she made a constant study, the affairs of
the Duchy of Lancaster, and, in some degree, the measures for relieving
famine, engaged her attention. As to ceremonies, her Majesty and Prince
Albert were always curious, and keen to trace out the origins of the old
customs to which she had to defer. “On Thursday,” writes Lord Campbell
in a letter, dated 6th February, 1847, “I went down to Windsor and shook
hands with Prince Albert, the Prince of Wales, and their Royal
Highnesses the Princess Royal and the Princess Alice. By-the-by, there
was an amusing scene in the Queen’s closet. I had an audience that her
Majesty might prick a Sheriff for the county of Lancaster, which she did
in proper style with a bodkin I put into her hand. I then took her
pleasure about some Duchy livings and withdrew--forgetting to make her
sign the parchment roll. I obtained a second audience, and explained the
mistake. While she was signing, Prince Albert said to me, ‘Pray, my
Lord, when did this ceremony of pricking begin?’ CAMPBELL: ‘In ancient
times, Sir, when sovereigns did not know how to write their names.’
QUEEN (as she returned me the roll with her signature): ‘But we now show
that we have been to school.’”
Her Majesty’s interest in the affairs of the Duchy was abiding. Writing
on the 9th of March to his brother, Lord Campbell says:--“I have been to
Osborne attending a Council. Had it not been so bitterly cold I should
have enjoyed it. I had a private audience of her Majesty; and when my
business was over she said, ‘How you were attacked in the House of Lords
the other night, Lord Campbell--most abominably.’ I gave a courtier-like
answer,” adds this unblushing old political comedian, “without telling
her Majesty of the dinner I am to give an Saturday to Lord Stanley and
Lord Brougham” (who had attacked him), “for she was excessively angry
with them; and she would not understand the levity with which such
matters are treated among politicians of opposite parties.”[73] The
attack, it may be explained, was due to an indiscreet proposal made by
Lord John Russell to appoint new Councillors for the Duchy without a
view to Party, who should serve permanently. Lords Lincoln, Hardwicke,
Spencer, Portman, and Sir James Graham were named, and the whole project
was attacked as a Whig job, designed to conciliate the Peelites, whose
precarious alliance was worth purchasing. When the fight was over,
Campbell invited all the combatants to dine with the Councillors, old
and new; and he gives a most amusing account of the banquet--telling how
all these public enemies met on the easiest of convivial terms in
private; how Brougham “shook hands with the Premier, and called him
John;” and “Stanley said to Sir James Graham, ‘Graham, how are you?’”
and how Brougham “related a supposed speech of Sir Charles Wetherell’s,
complaining that death is now attended with a fresh terror from Campbell
writing the life of a deceased person as soon as the breath was out of
his body.” One wonders if the Queen would have wasted much sympathy on
Campbell, or much indignation on his enemies, had she known that they
“sat at table till near eleven,” and that, as “Lyndhurst was stepping
into his carriage, he was overheard to say to Lord Brougham, ‘I wish we
had such a Council as this once a month.’”
It is pleasing, however, to record that those who had to deal not only
with the hereditary but private revenues of the Sovereign had proved
themselves this year able and faithful servants. On that topic Mr.
Charles Greville writes in his Journal, on the 8th of March,
1847:--“George Anson told me yesterday that the Queen’s affairs are in
such good order, and so well managed, that she will be able to provide
for the whole expense of Osborne out of her revenue without difficulty;
and that by the time it is finished it will have cost £200,000. He said
also that the Prince of Wales, when he came of age, would have not less
than £70,000 a year from the Duchy of Cornwall. They have already saved
£100,000. The Queen takes for his maintenance whatever she pleases, and
the rest, after paying charges, is invested in the Funds or in land, and
accumulates for him.”
The death of Lord Bessborough in June left the Viceroyalty of Ireland
vacant; and there was some difficulty about selecting his successor.
Lord John Russell would have abolished the office and appointed a
Secretary of State for Ireland, but for the menaces of the Repealers and
Orangemen. The two favourite candidates for the post were the Duke of
Bedford, who was afraid to take it, and Lord Clarendon, who was anxious
to have it; but who desired to make the world believe that he was making
a great sacrifice
[Illustration: THE CUSTOM HOUSE, DUBLIN.]
in accepting the office. He was ultimately appointed, and for five years
ruled Ireland well, with a firm and neutral hand.
The death of O’Connell on the 15th of May, at Genoa, “made little or no
sensation here,”[74] says Mr. Greville. He had quarrelled with half his
followers, and the younger Repealers had grown sick of his policy of
fruitless agitation. But in Dublin, when the news was posted in
Conciliation Hall, vast crowds of mournful patriots assembled and
silently read the placards. The Catholic chapels tolled their dismal
death-knells, and the Corporation met and adjourned for three weeks as a
mark of respect for the Liberator’s memory. In the famine-stricken
districts the anguish of public sorrow sharpened the pangs of popular
distress. His remains were laid in Glasnevin cemetery with imposing
funereal pomp and pageantry. Indeed, no funeral in Ireland has ever been
more numerously attended, for it was reckoned that at least 50,000
persons marched in the procession of mourners. Few people of high rank
and station were there; but the middle and lower classes of the
populace
[Illustration: THE GRAND STAIRCASE, BUCKINGHAM PALACE.
(_From a Photograph by Mr. H. N. King._)]
were conspicuous. Even many afflicted persons from the poorest quarters
were found struggling at daybreak round the mortuary chapel in
Marlborough Street, to catch one glimpse of the remains of a man whom
they believed to have been sent on earth with a divine mission, whose
ultimate translation to the saints was to them a certainty, and a sight
of whose very corpse might perchance work a miracle that would cure
their infirmities.
The Cabinet, despite the weakness of its action, the instability of its
support, and false reports of dissensions among its Members, had held
well together. Even Lords Grey and Palmerston behaved as if they had
ever been on terms of fraternal amity. In July, however, Ministers began
to feel that they were in office but not in power. Bill after Bill had
to be withdrawn. Some of the Peelites, too, whose support was necessary,
took umbrage at the effusive compliments which were bandied about
between Lord John Russell and Lord George Bentinck; indeed, this feeling
was shared by Sir James Graham and by Peel himself. Concessions were
made to opponents to an extent that destroyed the prestige of the
Ministry, which, though indispensable, was neither popular nor
respected. In July, the Cabinet therefore came to the conclusion that it
would be well to appeal to the country to return a new House of Commons
which might fill them with fresh strength. Ministers had appointed a
Committee to feel the pulse of the constituencies, of which Lord
Campbell, Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster, was one; and they
reported that not a day should be lost in bringing about a Dissolution
in the interests of the Party. So eager were they to go to the country
at once that “it was even suggested,” says Lord Campbell, “that, to
expedite the Election by a day, the Queen should dissolve Parliament in
person from the Throne. I found one precedent for this since the
Revolution, in Lord Eldon’s time; but I pointed out a better
expedient--that the Queen should prorogue, as usual, and that, holding a
Council immediately after, she should then sign the Proclamation for the
Dissolution and the calling of a new Parliament, the writs going out by
the post the same evening. This course was successfully adopted.”
The Dissolution took place on July 23, almost immediately after the
prorogation of Parliament. The Whigs, more or less loosely in alliance
with the Radicals, formed one party; the Tory Protectionists, under the
leadership of Lord George Bentinck and Lord Stanley, formed a second;
the Tory Free Traders, under Peel, formed a third. Discord therefore
reigned throughout the whole established system of party Government, and
the dissensions caused by the Free Trade settlement were aggravated by
the religious controversy, as to the possibility of giving State aid to
Roman Catholic education and worship. Public suspicion had been roused
by a declaration which Lord John Russell had made in the House of
Commons as to the expediency of establishing formal diplomatic relations
with Rome. It was intensified by the Secretary at War, who included in
the Army Estimates votes providing means of worship for Roman Catholic
soldiers on foreign service. It was further strengthened by the
promised relaxation of the rule, which virtually cut off Roman Catholic
schools from all share in the Education Grant. “There was,” says Mr.
Evelyn Ashley, “little enthusiasm on either side. The Free Trade
Question appeared settled; and, though a more vigorous policy was
anticipated from a Russell than from a Melbourne Administration, no
great organic changes were expected from it. On the other hand, the
remnants of the Conservative Party had nothing to hold out beyond vague
professions of attachment to an ancient institution.”[75] The result was
the return of 337 Whig and Liberal Free Traders, and 318 Conservatives
and Protectionists--the Protectionists numbering about one-half of the
Conservative return.
Between the Election and the assembling of Parliament the Government was
greatly disturbed by the renewed outbreak of outrages in Ireland, and of
the commercial panic which had long been imminent. These two events
caused Ministers to summon Parliament on the 18th of November. The panic
in spring, which we traced to dearth and high prices of food-stuffs, was
eased in Midsummer by the fall in prices. This, however, in its turn,
produced the second panic in the autumn, for speculators had bought corn
in advance at rates far above those which began to rule the market. Then
money became “tight.” On the 5th of August the Bank raised the rate of
discount to 5½ per cent., and Funds fell 2 per cent. in a week--from 88⅝
to 86¾. At the end of August failures to the extent of £3,000,000 were
announced, and on the 1st of October the Bank of England refused to make
any further advances on Stock. At the end of the week consols fell to
80½. On the 19th of October they were sold for money at 78, and for the
account at 79, and Exchequer bills fell as low as 30 per cent. discount.
Banking-houses of national importance now began to close their doors,
and confidence vanished from the commercial world. On the 25th of
October the Prime Minister and Chancellor of the Exchequer, in response
to piteous appeals from merchants and bankers all over the country,
recommended the directors of the Bank of England “to enlarge the amount
of their discounts and advances upon approved security,” but that the
rate of interest should be 8 per cent., so as “to retain this operation
within reasonable limits.” They were promised an indemnity if this
course led them to infringe the restrictions of the Bank Act. As the
offer of advances at 8 per cent. was not tempting, the Bank never
required to break the law, which established a fixed ratio between their
gold and their securities, but the announcement that the Bank Act was
virtually suspended, restored confidence by restoring hope. Lord
Campbell seems to indicate in his Autobiography that Ministers
themselves were frightened, “there being an apprehension that the
dividends may not be paid, and that the Bank of England may stop, and
that there may be a pecuniary crash, public and private.” All through
this crisis Sir Robert Peel’s Bank Act was virulently attacked as being
one of the causes of the distress. He himself behaved with signal
generosity. He recognised the necessity for giving way to popular
prejudices at a time of panic, and when the Queen informed him at
Windsor that Lord John Russell had decided virtually to suspend the Act,
he observed that the step was
[Illustration: LORD PALMERSTON.]
justifiable in the circumstances, and that he would support the Bill of
Indemnity promised to the Bank. That the attacks on Peel were unfair,
seems evident from the fact that the suspension of the Act had no
practical, though it had a moral, effect on the Money Market. No
indemnity was needed, so that, whatever improvement followed, it could
not be due to the banks expanding their issues, or to their system of
advancing more generously on securities.
Next came the dismal Irish Question. The Cabinet had, after some
controversy, arrived at the conclusion that they must bring in a
Coercion Bill for Ireland, although they were fully aware that they
exposed themselves to the taunt that they had turned out Sir Robert
Peel’s Government for proposing to introduce one. But the case was
urgent. That crime had increased to an appalling extent in Ireland is
indicated by the fact that Sir Robert
[Illustration: QUEEN’S COLLEGE, BELFAST.
(_From a Photograph by W. Lawrence, Dublin._)]
Peel, resisting a very natural temptation to retaliate on his
adversaries, supported the Government and asked the House of Commons to
pass the Bill. His generosity is enshrined in one phrase of his
speech--“The best reparation that can be made to the last Government
will be to assist the present Government in passing this law.” The Bill
was carried by a majority of 213.
Some of the murders in Ireland at the end of the year were truly of a
revolting character. Here is an example. A farmer named St. John, who
was done to death near Lisnamrock, in county Tipperary, had a dispute
with his younger brother about the possession of a farm. The younger
brother seems to have been in the right, and this roused local feeling.
On the 16th of December a party of men went at night, and, dragging the
elder St. John out of bed, ripped his body open and cut off his head
before his wife’s eyes. There was, in fact, an epidemic of crime in the
land. Murder was the remedy that was applied to redress all kinds of
grievances or wrongs, and everybody went about the ordinary affairs of
life armed to the teeth.
What was worse, too, was the hostility of the priesthood to the
Government, and one manifestation of it was regarded as particularly
offensive by her Majesty. That was the Papal Memorandum condemning the
Queen’s Colleges. Although Lord John Russell had actually drafted a Bill
legalising the renewal of diplomatic relations with Rome, the Pope and
the Roman Catholic clergy made but a sorry recompense for his goodwill.
The Sacred Congregation denounced the Queen’s Colleges--“an ungrateful
return,” writes Lord Palmerston in a letter to Lord Minto,[76] which
“can only be explained on the supposition that it was extorted by
intrigue and false representations made at Rome by McHale, and that the
Pope acted ignorantly, and without knowing the mischief he was doing.”
Lord Clarendon, the Irish Viceroy, thought that good results might
follow the visit of a confidential agent from the Vatican to Ireland.
But Lord Palmerston, fearing that the Papal emissary would be suborned
by Archbishop McHale and the enemies of the Government, objected to such
an experiment. In another letter, on the 3rd of December, Lord
Palmerston urges Lord Minto to assure the Pope that “in Ireland
misconduct is the rule and good conduct the exception in the Catholic
priests,” and he points to the murder of Major Mahon, which followed a
priestly denunciation at the altar, as an illustration of the manner in
which the Irish priesthood were instigating crime. He says he cannot
consider it prudent to bring in a Bill for Legalising Diplomatic
Intercourse with the Court of Rome at a time when there is in Ireland “a
deliberate and extensive conspiracy among the priests and peasantry to
kill off and drive away all the proprietors of land.” Public feeling in
England, always easily roused, would have swept away the Ministry in a
tempest of wrath if such a measure had been introduced at such a moment.
On the other hand, it is only fair to the Pope and Cardinal Ferretti to
say that they seemed to be hopelessly ignorant of Irish affairs, and
that they assured Lord Minto they utterly disapproved of the political
activity of the Irish priesthood.
Two other religious disputes, maintained by the zealots, excited the
country. One was waged over the admission of the Jews to Parliament. The
other gave rise to the famous Hampden controversy, which is so
constantly alluded to in the literature and memoirs of the day.
At the General Election one of the members returned for the City of
London was Baron Rothschild, a Jew by race and religion. As such he
could not take his seat, for he could not take the Oath of Allegiance on
the true faith of a Christian. Lord John Russell, his colleague,
submitted to the House of Commons a Resolution declaring that it was
expedient to remove all civil disabilities affecting the Jews--in other
words, the removal of the phrase “on the faith of a Christian” from the
Parliamentary Oath. Lord George Bentinck, Mr. Disraeli, and Mr.
Gladstone, supported the Resolution. A Bill founded on it was carried in
the Lower House, but rejected in the House of Lords.
On the 20th of December Parliament adjourned.
The Government were decidedly unfortunate during 1847 in their
distribution of ecclesiastical patronage. They appointed the Rev. J. P.
Lee, Head Master of King Edward’s School, at Birmingham, to the
newly-constituted see of Manchester, after he had been publicly charged
with drunkenness by a local surgeon, and had never met the accusation.
It was inexplicable that Lord John Russell, when informed of the fact,
should have refused to cancel or delay the appointment. Between his
nomination and his consecration Mr. Lee, however, prosecuted his
traducer for libel, and completely and triumphantly vindicated his
character.
When, the see of Hereford fell vacant Lord John Russell, as if in sheer
defiance of the feelings of Churchmen, appointed Dr. Hampden as the new
Bishop. Dr. Hampden had been censured for heresy by the academic
authorities of Oxford, and deprived, as Regius Professor of Divinity, of
authority to grant as a privilege certificates of attendance at his
lectures to students for Holy Orders. To designate him as Bishop was
taken as a direct insult by the clergy. Hence the Bishop of London,
representing the High Churchmen, and the Bishop of Winchester,
representing the Low Churchmen, along with thirteen Bishops, protested
against the appointment. The Dean of Hereford. Dr. Merewether,
threatened to vote against Dr. Hampden’s election by the Chapter. This
threat drew from Lord John Russell a curt reply to the effect that he
acknowledged receipt of the letter in which the Dean intimated he would
violate the law. Dr. Merewether’s action also drew attention to the
empty formality of the _congé d’élire_, whereby the Crown permits the
Dean and Chapter of a Cathedral to elect the nominee recommended by the
Crown as Bishop. Should they refuse they incur the pains and penalties
of præmunire--deprivation of benefices, confiscation of property, and
imprisonment, during the Royal pleasure.
Hampden was a rather dull man, with a ponderous, obscure style,[77]
whose offence lay, first, in advocating the admission of Dissenters into
the University, and, secondly, in not only attributing, in his Bampton
Lectures, the terminology and phraseology of Christian doctrine to the
scholastic philosophy of the Middle Ages, but in further describing that
philosophy as “an atmosphere of mist!” He was supposed to be ambiguous
on the Atonement, and it had been whispered that Blanco White had
“crammed” him for his Bampton Lectures. White was one of the small
group of Broad Churchmen at Oriel College, Oxford, whom Newman dreaded,
and as he had since become a Socinian, suspicions of Dr. Hampden’s
heterodoxy were intensified. The Bishop of Oxford, after joining in the
hue and cry against Hampden, declined to send him up for trial, on the
ground that there was no valid case against him. There is no doubt,
however, that when he discovered the Queen had espoused Dr. Hampden’s
cause, Wilberforce’s zeal cooled rapidly. As for Prince Albert, he
bombarded Lord John Russell with letters urging him to prosecute Dr.
Merewether, who seems to have been far from a disinterested defender of
the faith, if it be true, as is asserted, that he memorialised the Queen
and Lord Lansdowne to terminate the controversy by appointing him to the
see of Hereford in the meantime, and then consoling Dr. Hampden with the
promise of the next vacancy! Much importance attached to the opposition
which the Bishop of Exeter offered to Hampden. But, according to Mr.
Greville, the Bishop of Exeter had, a few years before this strife,
called on Hampden at Oxford to express to him the pleasure with which he
had read his Bampton Lectures.[78] Archbishop Longley, who told Lord
Aberdeen that he would go to the Tower rather than confirm Hampden’s
nomination, subsequently begged the Bishop of Oxford to stay proceedings
in the interests of the Church.
Lord John Russell, it need hardly be said, obstinately refused to cancel
Hampden’s nomination. After the Queen had sanctioned his appointment, to
annul it would have virtually transferred to the Universities the
supreme authority of the Crown over the Episcopate. Preparations were
made to resist the confirmation of Dr. Hampden at Bow Church. The only
question admitted to argument there was whether the Court was competent
to hear objectors summoned by its own apparitor to state their
objections before it. On the 11th of January the Vicar-General of
Canterbury, Dr. Burnaby, with Sir John Dodson and Dr. Lushington as
assessors, decided against the competence of the Court. An application
for a _mandamus_ to compel the Archbishop to hear objectors was refused
by the Queen’s Bench--the judges being equally divided. On the 15th, in
the House of Lords, Lord Denman defended the decision, and declared that
“it was not to be supposed for a moment that the Crown would nominate to
the high position of a Bishop an unfit person; and that the law would
certainly be in a strange state if it should require an archbishop,
before he proceeded to confirm or consecrate a party nominated by the
Crown, to call upon all the world to throw scandal upon the nominee.” He
further said that “the form in the proclamation was a mere form which
was never used; that, if used, the prerogative of the Crown would be
most seriously interfered with;” and he warned the House against “the
fatal consequences of allowing objections to be made to the nominees of
the Crown,” for “by checking every attempt at such interference the
Church was protected from great danger and mischief.”
CHAPTER XVII.
THE COURT AND FOREIGN AFFAIRS.
Lord George Bentinck’s Imprudence--French Intrigues in
Portugal--England and the Junta--A Vulgar Suspicion--The Duke of
Wellington and National Defences--The Duke’s Threatened
Resignation--The Queen Soothes Him--Famine in the Queen’s
Kitchen--Royal Hospitalities--The Queen’s Country Dance--A German
Impostor--Discovery of Chloroform--The Royal Visit to
Cambridge--Prince Albert’s Installation as Chancellor of the
University--Awkward Dons--Anecdotes of the Queen at
Cambridge--Royalty and Heraldry--The Visit to Scotland--Highland
Loyalty--A Desolate Retreat--Politics and Sport at Ardverikie--A
New Departure in Foreign Policy--Lord Minto’s Mission--The Queen’s
Views--Prince Albert’s Caution to Lord John Russell--The Queen’s
Amusements at Ardverikie--A Regretful Adieu--Home Again
During 1847-48, Foreign Affairs chiefly occupied the attention of the
Queen and Prince Albert. The annexation of Cracow, long meditated by
Metternich, was rendered easy to Austria by the coolness which had
sprung up between England and France. It was felt that French and
English protests, though presented, must be unavailing, because every
one knew neither Power would go to war for the sake of Poland. Mr. Hume
brought the incident under the notice of the House of Commons, his
proposal being to stop the payments to Russia by Great Britain on
account of the Russo-Dutch Loan--in other words, to fine Russia for
sanctioning Austria’s evil-doing. It was the subject of a debate which
would have been tame but for Lord George Bentinck’s imprudent eulogium
on the three despotic Powers--which vastly displeased his Party, and as
Lord Palmerston, in a letter to Lord Normanby, said, extinguished him as
a candidate for office.[79] Hume’s motion was not pressed to a division.
French influence had been at work in Portugal to estrange the Queen from
her English alliance. The dynastic connection between the Houses of
Coburg and Braganza rendered Portuguese affairs intensely interesting to
Queen Victoria at this time. The King Consort of Portugal--Prince
Ferdinand, son of the younger brother of the reigning Duke of
Coburg--had, it was rumoured, quarrelled with the Queen, who was tempted
to carry out in her dominions the arbitrary policy of the Bourbons. The
people rebelled; and in view of a possible Franco-Spanish intervention,
England, not uninfluenced by the views of Queen Victoria and Prince
Albert, stepped in between the Portuguese Sovereign and her people.
English intervention was at the outset purely diplomatic. It was limited
to the arrangement of a compromise between the contending parties.
Ultimately our diplomacy was successful; but the proposals of the
English Envoy were finally rejected by the Portuguese Junta, and a
Protocol was drawn up with Portugal, Spain, and France, for the purpose
of bringing the Junta to submission. The General Election was now
impending in England, and it was feared that on a motion in the House of
Commons, censuring the Government for interfering to coerce the Junta, a
combination of Protectionists and Radicals with Lord Palmerston’s
enemies would defeat the Government. Sir Robert Peel held some anxious
conferences with Prince Albert on the subject; and the Queen was afraid
lest a vulgar suspicion might get abroad that the policy of her
Government had been dominated, not by British but by Coburg interests.
Luckily, no serious coercion was needed, and the Junta finally submitted
on the 30th of June.
It was on the 11th of June that Mr. Joseph Hume brought forward his
motion attacking the Portuguese policy of the Government. The debate was
fierce and bitter. Peel, who spoke eloquently on the side of the
Ministry, privately warned Prince Albert that Mr. Hume might carry his
motion. Lord John Russell wrote to the Queen, saying she must be
prepared to receive his resignation by the end of the week; and in the
House of Lords also the attack was led by Lord Stanley, with
characteristic impetuosity. Naturally, then, everybody was amazed when,
after three days’ furious wrangling, the debate ended in a count-out in
the House of Commons, and the defeat of Lord Stanley in the House of
Lords by a majority of twenty. This ridiculous result was due to some
misunderstanding between Mr. Hume and Lord George Bentinck, who
permitted the “count-out,” and it led to endless recriminations. On the
5th of July, Mr. Bernal Osborne brought Portuguese affairs before
Parliament once more; and then Lord Palmerston, who had not spoken in
the three days’ debate, explained his policy. His object, he said, was
neither to serve the Portuguese Crown nor oppress the Portuguese nation.
He found Portugal a prey to wasting anarchy. But as it was most
important that Portugal should be a strong ally of England in
maintaining the balance of power, he had felt justified in interfering
between the Queen and her people, in order to gain for the latter the
constitutional securities which by the advice of bad Councillors her
Majesty had suspended. In bringing the war to a peaceful termination, in
transferring the struggle from the field of battle to the arena of
Parliamentary debate, the Government seems to have fairly earned, if it
did not freely receive, the thanks both of England and Portugal.
The dispute between France and England over the Spanish marriages, the
personal quarrel between Lord Normanby, the English Ambassador at Paris,
and M. Guizot, and the deep distrust of Lord Palmerston, which poisoned
the mind of Louis Philippe, bore bad fruits. Lord Normanby allied
himself more closely than ever with M. Thiers and the leaders of the
Opposition in the French Chambers, who harried the Government with their
attacks. M. Guizot began to lean for support on the Northern Powers, and
he cultivated the fatal friendship of Metternich. His policy was thus
one under which revolution naturally ripened. The unsatisfactory state
of our foreign relations rendered the Duke of Wellington most anxious
about the defence of the country; in fact, he was, says Charles
Greville, “haunted” by it night and day. Lord Clarendon and Lord
Palmerston[80] were with the Duke. The Chancellor of the Exchequer was
against him; as for Lord John Russell, he was neutral.
In January, 1848, the Duke of Wellington, however, startled the country
by a letter which he had addressed to General Sir John Burgoyne early in
1847 on the unfortified state of England. At that moment, he averred,
the fleet was the only defence the nation possessed. He doubted if 5,000
men of all arms could be sent into the field, unless we left those on
duty, including the Royal Guards, without any reliefs whatever. He
pleaded for the organisation of a militia force at least 150,000 strong,
and for strengthening the defences of the South Coast from the North
Foreland to Portsmouth. This letter was a private one. Lady Burgoyne and
her daughters, however, had distributed copies of it among their
friends, and one Pigou, “a meddling zealot,” says Mr. Greville, “who
does nothing but read Blue Books and write letters to the _Times_,” got
hold of a copy and printed it in the newspapers, much to the annoyance
of the Duke and Lord John Russell. The Duke of Wellington all through
the latter half of the year had indeed given the Ministry and the Queen
some uneasiness, and this might have had serious consequences, but for
the fine tact and delicate social diplomacy of her Majesty. Enfeebled by
age and anxious as to the defences of the country, which the Government
persisted in neglecting, the “Great Captain” querulously threatened to
resign--a step which the Queen dreaded because she considered that it
would greatly reduce public confidence in the Government. A statue in
the worst possible taste had been put up on the archway opposite Apsley
House--the first equestrian statue, indeed, ever erected in England to a
subject. It was put there only provisionally, but the Duke held that to
take it down would be an insult to him, and this further strengthened
his resolution to retire. The Queen, however, was “excessively kind to
him,” and her winning courtesies soothed the irritated veteran. “On
Monday,” says Mr. Greville, writing on the 19th of June, “his
granddaughter was christened at the Palace, and the Queen dined with him
in the evening. She had written him a very pretty letter, expressing her
wish to be godmother to the child, saying that she wished her to be
called Victoria, which name was so peculiarly appropriate to a
granddaughter of his.” After that the country was no longer disturbed by
rumours of the Duke’s impending resignation.
Of Court life outside the sphere of politics, in this year of distress,
we gain some interesting glimpses in the Memoirs and Diaries of the
period. In February wheat was selling at 102 shillings a quarter, and in
May the Queen herself says she had been obliged to limit the allowance
of bread to every one in the Palace to one pound a day, “and only
secondary flour to be used in the Royal kitchen.” Still a generous but
not ostentatious hospitality was dispensed by her Majesty all through
this dismal season. The Baroness Bunsen says, in her Diary, on the 1st
of March, 1847:--“We dined at Buckingham Palace
[Illustration: PRINCE METTERNICH.]
on Monday, where there was a ball in the evening--that is, a small
dancing party, only Lady Rosebery and the Ladies Primrose coming in the
evening, in addition to those at dinner. The Queen danced with her usual
spirit and activity, and that obliged other people to do their best, and
thus the ball was a pretty sight, inspirited by excellent music.”
Another description of a Royal dinner-party at this time is given by
Lord Campbell, in his Autobiography.[81] Writing to his brother, Sir
George
[Illustration: KING’S COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE FROM THE “BACKS.”]
Campbell, on the 22nd of March, 1847, he gives us a bright glimpse of
Palace life. “You will see,” he says, “by the _Court Circular_ that Mary
and Loo and I dined at the Palace on Saturday. The invitation only came
on Friday, and we were engaged to dine with Sir John Hobhouse. There is
not much to tell to gratify your curiosity. On our arrival a little
before eight, we were shown into the picture gallery, where the company
assembled. Burnes, who acted as Master of the Ceremonies, arranged what
gentleman should take what lady. He said, ‘Dinner is ordered to be on
the table at ten minutes past eight, but I bet you the Queen will not be
here till twenty to twenty-five minutes after. She always thinks she can
dress in ten minutes, but she takes about double the time.’ True enough,
it was nearly twenty-five minutes after eight before she appeared. She
shook hands with the ladies, bowed to the gentlemen, and proceeded to
the _salle à manger_. I had to take in Lady Emily de Burgh, and was
third on her Majesty’s right--Prince Edward of Saxe-Weimar and my
partner being between us. The greatest delicacy we had was some very
nice oatcake. There was a Highland piper standing behind her Majesty’s
chair, but he did not play as at ‘State dinners.’ We had likewise some
Edinburgh ale. The Queen and the ladies withdrawing, Prince Albert came
over to her side of the table, and we remained behind about a quarter of
an hour; but we rose within the hour from the time of our sitting down.
A snuff-box was twice carried round and offered to all the gentlemen;
Prince Albert, to my surprise, took a pinch. On returning to the gallery
we had tea and coffee. The Queen then came up and talked to me.... She
does the honours of her palace with infinite sweetness and grace--and
considering what she is, both in public and domestic life, I do not
think she is sufficiently loved and respected. Prince Albert took me to
task for my impatience to get into the new House of Lords, but I think I
pacified him complimenting his taste. A dance followed. The Queen
chiefly delighted in a romping sort of country dance called the
_Tempête_. She withdrew a little before twelve, and we went off to Lady
Palmerston’s.”
Again, writing on the eventful day when the Royal Household had been put
on short rations, the Baroness Bunsen, in a letter to her mother,
says:--“Last night we were asked to the Queen Dowager’s, who had invited
a small party, at which the Queen was present and the Duchess of
Gloucester. The object was to give a German named Löwe, who had come
with prodigious recommendations from Coburg, opportunity of showing his
musical talent, and it turned out that he had none to show”[82]--not by
any means the first imported adventurer who has tried to take advantage
of the Queen’s good nature, and her sympathy for Art.
The great scientific event of the year was a discovery in which the
Queen not only took a deep personal interest, but the application of
which she subsequently used her influence to popularise. It was the
substitution of the use of chloroform for ether as an anæsthetic agent
in operative surgery. Chloroform was first introduced into Great Britain
by Dr. James Young Simpson, Professor of Midwifery in the University of
Edinburgh, and he claimed for it several advantages over ether. A
smaller quantity produced unconsciousness. It acted more rapidly, and
was less evanescent than ether. It was alleged to be safer, though this
is still a matter of doubt. The old masters of surgery used to consider
a surgical operation the opprobrium of their art. By rendering all
operations painless, Simpson did not remove this opprobrium, though he
reduced it to a minimum.
Two great events in the domestic life of the Court in 1847 were the
visit to Cambridge and the visit to Scotland, which took place after
Parliament was dissolved. Baron Stockmar was not the only quiet observer
who had noticed that Prince Albert had “made great strides lately.”
Learned men in England had come to recognise in the thoughtful and
scholarly young Prince a choice and kindred spirit. On the 12th of
February, 1847, his Royal Highness was deeply gratified to receive from
Dr. Whewell, the Master of Trinity College, Cambridge, a letter asking
permission to nominate him for the vacant Chancellorship of the
University. Acting quite independently of Dr. Whewell, Lord Lansdowne
sent a similar request, and Mr. Anson, Prince Albert’s secretary,
received a communication from the Bishop of London (Blomfield), assuring
him that a great many of the leading members of the University were
deeply interested in the election of his Royal Highness, and would
consider his acceptance of office alike honourable and advantageous to
Cambridge. The Queen was touched with these expressions of kindly
feeling, for if there had ever been a shadow over her happiness, it had
been due to a lurking suspicion that her husband was not fairly
appreciated by the people, among whom for her sake he had elected to
work out a career of self-effacement. Here, at last, it seemed to her
Majesty, there was an indication that her husband’s high qualities were
meeting with their just reward. The offer of the Chancellorship of
Cambridge she regarded as an honour conferred on the Prince for his own
sake rather than for hers--as the first mark of distinction won by him
in England, outside the sphere and range of her influence.
This feeling was strengthened when, on the 18th of February, there
arrived at Buckingham Palace an address, signed by all the most
distinguished resident members of the University, urging the Prince to
accept nomination. But in Cambridge, as elsewhere, little local
jealousies often rob great movements of some of their grace and
sweetness. St. John’s, ever envious of Trinity, thought the University
should have a Chancellor of its choosing, and had accordingly put Lord
Powis in nomination. The Prince, not quite estimating these petty
academic rivalries at their true value, shrank from the competition, and
ordered his name to be withdrawn. Dr. Whewell and his supporters,
however, disregarded this request, and insisted on going to the poll
against the Prince’s wishes, which put them at a signal disadvantage.
The contest was keen--perhaps one might even say a trifle
acrimonious--but it ended in the triumph of the Prince, whose supporters
defeated Lord Powis by a vote of 953 to 837. Nineteen out of
thirty-seven wranglers, and sixteen out of twenty-four professors, voted
for the Prince. The resident vote was three to one in his favour, so
that, as is usual in
[Illustration: ST. JOHN’S COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE.]
University elections, the strength of the “Marplots” lay in the rural
electorate. Still, the Prince had scruples about accepting the office.
His candidature had been carried on against his express desire, and he
harped on the idea that victory, without some approach to unanimity,
could only give rise to discord in the University. His friends, however,
urged him to take office, and they had a powerful ally in the Queen. As
Sir R. Peel said at the time, “to decline the office would give a
triumph to the partisans of Lord Powis--who would feel no gratitude for
the concession--and would cause deep mortification and disappointment to
all those who voted for the Prince, and of whom the greater number
cannot be held responsible for the nomination of the Prince against his
declared wishes.” The smallness of the majority was, of course,
[Illustration: THE PRINCE-CHANCELLOR OF CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESENTING
AN ADDRESS TO THE QUEEN. (_See p. 311._)]
largely due to the fact that the Trinity party had pressed the Prince’s
candidature after he had publicly withdrawn. They were, in fact, asking
electors to vote for a candidate whose acceptance of office if elected
was doubtful. On the other hand, the Prince could not force his
partisans to stop proceedings, except by publicly declaring that in no
circumstances would he accept, even if chosen, the Chancellorship of the
University, which would have been justly construed into an insult to
Cambridge. Ultimately the Prince agreed to take office, and on the 25th
of March the ceremony of inauguration took place at Buckingham Palace,
where the Vice-Chancellor, Dr. Philpott, at the head of an imposing
academic deputation, presented the Prince with the Letters Patent of his
office. The venerable Laureate, Wordsworth, himself a Cambridge man,
kindly responded to a suggestion that he should write the Installation
Ode, and, as he observed in a letter to Colonel Phipps, “retouch a harp,
which I will not say with Tasso, oppressed by misfortunes and years, has
been hung up upon a cypress, but which has, however, been for some time
laid aside.” That he excluded the Ode from his collected works indicates
that he felt the ancient founts of inspiration had almost run dry, and
yet there are many passages of stately beauty in the poem. It begins by
referring to the rescue of Europe from the grasp of Napoleon, and to the
wail of sorrow that resounded through England when the Princess
Charlotte died:--
“Flower and bud together fall--
A nation’s hopes lie crushed in Claremont’s desolate hall.”
Then a noble strophe announces the birth of the Princess Victoria, and
celebrates her happy destiny:--
Love, the treasure worth possessing
More than all the world beside;
This shall be her dearest blessing,
Oft to Royal heads denied.”
But the strength and resonance of the Ode chiefly lie in the passages
addressed to the Prince in relation to his duties:--
“Albert, in thy race we cherish
A nation’s strength that will not perish
While England’s sceptred line
True to the King of Kings is found;
Like that wise ancestor of thine
Who threw the Saxon shield o’er Luther’s life,
When first above the yells of bigot strife
The trumpet of the Living Word
Assumed a voice of deep portentous sound,
From, gladdened Elbe to startled Tiber heard.”
Brilliant sunshine gilded those joyful July days when the Queen and her
husband set out with a gay and gladsome party for the ceremony of
Installation. “The great Railway King, Mr. Hudson himself,” writes the
Queen in her Diary, took charge of their train. But perhaps the freshest
and brightest account of the journey, and of the proceedings all
through, is that of the Baroness Bunsen, a gifted lady who accompanied
the Royal party, and who was an eye-witness of what occurred. In a
letter to her mother, under date the 8th of July, 1847, she says:--“On
Monday morning we were at the station before nine, just before Prince
Waldemar, the Duke of Saxe-Weimar, and Prince of Oldenburg arrived, for
whom the Queen had added a special train, and one of those carriages
called Royal, like a long omnibus, just holding the Princes, their
gentlemen aides-de-camp, Bishop Stanley, and Sir George Grey, Prince
Löwenstein, and ourselves. The station was a curious spectacle, as
usual--all ranks and materials of human society hurrying and jostling or
standing together. Our little Aaron Elphick, advanced from a college at
Hurstmonceux to be knife-cleaner at Oak Hill, from thence brought to
London last year, grown and dressed into a sort of embryo footman, and
_lent_ to Prince Löwenstein for the journey to Cambridge, stood guarding
the Prince’s portmanteau, whilst close by, talking across Aaron, stood
three Princes and a Bishop. As we shot along, every station and bridge
and resting-place and spot of shade was peopled with eager faces
watching for the Queen, and decorated with flowers; but the largest and
the brightest, and the gayest and most excited assemblage, was at the
Cambridge Station itself, and from thence along the streets to Trinity
College the degree of ornament and crowd and excitement was always
increasing. I think I never saw so many children before in one morning,
and I felt so much moved at the spectacle of such a mass of life
collected together and animated by one feeling, and that a joyous one,
that I was at a loss to conceive ‘how any woman’s sides can bear the
beating of so strong a throb’ as must attend the consciousness of being
the object of all that excitement and the centre of attraction for all
those eyes; but the Queen has Royal strength of nerve. We met the
well-fed magistrates and yeomanry going to await the Queen, as they
desired to fetch her from the station, and walk in procession before her
into the town. We saw her entrance into Trinity College as we stood at
the window of the Lodge, and the academic crowd, in picturesque dresses,
were as loud and rejoicing as any mob could have been. Soon after I went
with Mrs. Whewell, Lady Hardwicke, and Lady Monteagle, to take our
places in the yet vacant Great Hall of Trinity, where the Queen came to
receive the Chancellor’s address, and a few minutes after she had placed
herself on the Throne (_i.e._, arm-chair under a canopy at the raised
extremity of the Hall). Prince Albert, as Chancellor, entered from the
opposite end, in a beautiful dress of black and gold, with a long train
held up, made a graceful bow, and read an address, to which she read an
answer with a peculiar emphasis, uttering _approbation_ of the choice of
a Chancellor made by Cambridge! Both kept their countenances admirably,
and she only smiled upon the Prince at the close, when all was over, and
she had let all the heads of houses kiss her hand, which they did with
exquisite variety of awkwardness, all but one or two. Afterwards, the
Queen dined with the Vice-Chancellor in the hall of a small college,
where but comparatively few could be admitted. My husband was among the
invited, but not myself, and I was very glad to dine with Mrs. Whewell,
Lady Monteagle, and three of their suite--Colonel Phipps, Mr. Anson, and
Meyer. Later in the evening I enjoyed a walk in the beautiful garden
belonging to the Lodge, where flowers, planted and cared for
[Illustration: DR. WHEWELL.]
in the best manner, combine with fine trees and picturesque
architecture. The Queen went to a concert, contrived as an extra
opportunity of showing her to the public. On Tuesday morning all were up
early to breakfast at nine (but I had crept into the garden and admired
the abundance of roses long before that), to be ready before ten at the
distribution of prizes and performance of the Installation Ode in the
Senate House. The English prize poem, by a Mr. Day, on Sir Thomas More,
had really merit besides the merit of the subject. The Installation Ode
I thought quite affecting, because the selection of striking points is
founded on fact, and all exaggeration and _humbug_ were avoided.... Then
the Queen dined in the Great Hall of Trinity, and splendid did the Great
Hall look--330 people at various tables.... In the afternoon we had all
been at luncheon at Downing College, and enjoyed dancing in a refreshing
shade, and the spectacle of cheerful crowds in brilliant sunshine. The
Queen came thither and walked round to see the Horticultural Show, and
to show herself and the Chancellor.
[Illustration: THE QUEEN IN THE WOODWARDIAN MUSEUM. (_See p. 315._)]
After this was the real dinner, the Queen and her immediate suite at a
table across the raised end of the Hall, all the rest at tables
lengthways. At the Queen’s table the names were put on places, and
anxious was the moment before one could find one’s place. I was directed
by Lord Spencer to take one between him and the Duke of Buccleuch, and
found myself in very agreeable neighbourhood.
“Yesterday morning I went with the Duchess of Sutherland and Lady Desart
through the Library, King’s Chapel, Clare Hall, and the beautiful avenue
and gardens--with combinations of trees, architecture, green turf,
flowers, and water--which, under such a sun and sky as we had, could
nowhere be finer. The Duchess was conducted by Dr. Whewell, Lady Desart
by Lord Abercorn, and my honoured self by _Dr. Meyer in uniform_ (as all
had been attending the Chancellor’s levee in the morning), and we
passed among the admiring crowd who followed us at a respectful
distance, for the hero, Sir Harry Smith, as Lord Fortescue said, was
taken for the Duke of Wellington. Till twelve we walked, and at one the
Queen set out, through the Cloisters, and Hall and Library of Trinity
College, to pass through the gardens and avenues, which had been
connected for the occasion, by a temporary bridge over the river, with
those of St. John’s, and we followed her, thus having the best
opportunity of seeing everything, and in particular the joyous crowd
that grouped among the noble trees. Then the Queen sat down to luncheon
in a tent, and we were placed at her table. The only other piece of
diplomacy was Van de Weyer; but Madame Van de W. did not come, being
unable to undertake the fatigue. The Queen returned by Trinity Lodge,
and left for good at three, and as soon as we could afterwards we drove
away with Prince Waldemar. I could still tell much of Cambridge, of the
charms of its trim gardens, and of how well the Queen looked, and how
pleased, and how well she was dressed, and how perfect in grace and
movements.”
Another little vignette of the stately academic pageant, in which the
Queen shone as a sweet and charming figure, is rapidly sketched by
another eye-witness. Bishop Wilberforce, writing to Miss Noel, July 5th,
1847,[83] says:--
“The Cambridge scene was very interesting. There was such a burst of
loyalty, and it so told on the Queen and the Prince. C. would not there
have thought that he looked cold. It was quite clear that they both felt
it was something new; that he had earned, and not she given, a true
English honour; and so he looked so pleased and she so triumphant. There
were also some pretty interludes--when he presented the address and she
beamed upon him, and once half smiled, and then covered the smile with a
gentle dignity, and then she said, in her clear, musical voice, ‘The
choice which the University has made of its Chancellor has my most
entire approbation.’”
The Royal lady’s voice may have been clear and distinct, but, as a
matter of fact, she was thrilled with nervous excitement, quite unusual
to her, and evidently due to the fulness of her heart in sharing her
husband’s first great personal triumph over English prejudices. “I
cannot say,” the Queen records in her Diary, “how it agitated and
embarrassed me to receive this address, and hear it read by my beloved
Albert, who walked in at the head of the University, and who looked dear
and beautiful in his robes, which were carried by Colonel Phipps and
Colonel Seymour. Albert went through it all admirably--almost absurd,
however, as it was for us.” And the same thought shines through the last
entry which the Queen makes with reference to the event. “We had spent,”
she writes in her Diary, “a truly pleasant and most interesting time. To
see my Albert honoured and esteemed, as he deserves, gives me the
deepest satisfaction.... We reached Buckingham Palace at half-past four,
and found the children all well. I felt tired and _étourdie_. We walked
a little in the garden, then dined alone, and spent a dear, peaceful,
happy evening.”
Here, perhaps, it may be permissible to say that Cambridge has ever been
endeared to her Majesty by reason of many pleasant associations of her
early married life which gather round it. As has been stated in a
previous Chapter, it was at Cambridge in October, 1843, that Prince
Albert first gained any insight into the English University system,
during a visit which he and the Queen paid, quite informally, to Dr.
Whewell, the Master of Trinity.[84] They had a brilliant reception on
that occasion, some two thousand horsemen accompanying them with shouts
of welcome. The Royal pair had Whewell for a host and a cicerone, and
Prince Albert, in a letter to Baron Stockmar, gives a glowing account of
the enthusiasm with which he was received. Many good stories were told
of the visit in the University after they left. Professor Sedgwick, the
geologist, held some interesting conversation with the Prince in the
Woodwardian Museum, and was quite surprised to find that he was a
geologist of sound culture, who took much pleasure in teaching the Queen
all he knew about the monsters of the Old World, whose history seemed
greatly to interest her. The Professor was, however, nonplussed when her
Majesty asked him where the head of his pet Ichthyosaurus, which he was
unpacking, came from, and was fain to cover his ignorance for the moment
by saying, much to her Majesty’s amusement, that doubtless “it came as a
delegate from the monsters of the lower world to greet her Majesty on
her arrival at the University.”[85]
It was on this occasion that the Queen made the acquaintance of her
rugged but kindly host--the Master of Trinity--a rough diamond who had
raised himself by sheer ability from the humble position of a sizar, to
be virtually the intellectual head of the University. “W. and I,” writes
Mrs. Whewell to her mother,[86] “received commands to dine with the
Queen at eight o’clock; hasty notices were sent out to those whom she
would receive in the evening. At dinner, the Queen, and, still more, the
Prince, asked my husband questions about the University and College, to
which he gave such full answers, and they seemed to take so much
interest in hearing them, that it quite took off the disagreeable effect
of a Royal categorical conversation.... Certainly the Queen and Prince
seemed to like it. After dinner, in the drawing-room, the Queen asked me
if these were prints which lay on the table. I had taken care to place
some interesting ones there, for the chance of her looking at them. The
book she took most notice of was an old book by Sir Edward Stanhope, of
coats-of-arms of our founders and benefactors, which we had got out of
the Muniment Room. I pointed out some of the changes--Henry VIII.’s, for
instance, with the rouge dragon of Cadwallader, the last of the
Britons, for a supporter; James I.’s, with the unicorn. When Prince
Albert came up-stairs she pointed it out to him. He seemed a very good
herald, and told me several foreign coats that had quite puzzled me, and
also Lord and Lady Maybrooke, who are great heralds.” On going away the
Queen gave Mrs. Whewell a pretty bracelet, “saying she wished to give it
to me with her own hands.... She spoke very kindly indeed, and Prince
Albert came and said that the only thing he regretted was the
[Illustration: FALMOUTH HARBOUR.]
shortness of the visit. She proceeded to the door; the Master was on the
stairs. We accompanied them, walking as much backwards as we could.”
This part of the etiquette seems to have severely exercised the kindly
Cambridge dons, unused as they were to Court ceremonial. Sedgwick says,
for example, with reference to the Royal visit to the Woodwardian
Museum, “I will only add that I went through every kind of backward
movement to the admiration of all beholders, only having once trodden on
the hinder part of my cassock, and never once having fallen during my
retrogradations before the face of the Queen. In short, had I been a
king-crab I could not have walked backwards better.” Of the Queen the
brusque old Master of Trinity himself wrote:--“She was very kind in all
her expressions to us; told Cordelia that everything in her apartments
‘was so nice and so comfortable,’ and at parting gave her a very pretty
bracelet. The Prince was very agreeable, intelligent, and conversible,
seemed much interested with all he saw, and talked a good deal about his
German University, Bonn.... At dinner I was opposite the Queen, who
talked easily and cheerfully. I had also a good deal of occasion to talk
to her, in showing her the lions of Cambridge,
[Illustration: THE ROYAL VISIT TO FINGAL’S CAVE. (_See p. 319_)]
which she ran over very rapidly. It is no small matter to provide for
the Queen’s reception, even as we did. We had about forty servants of
the Queen in the house, besides a dozen men belonging to the stable
department who were in the town. The Queen’s coachman is reported to
have said that he had taken her Majesty to many places, but never to
anywhere where she was so well received, or _where the ale was so
good_.”
These little reminiscences of the Queen’s early life are not, when
rightly regarded, altogether trivial. They give us a delightful picture
of a nature doubly royal--royal not merely by birth, but by what birth
can never give--the easy affability of manner, the unaffected
determination to please and be pleased, the true politeness and tender
graces of demeanour which spring from the natural sunshine of the
heart, and before which the pedantries of etiquette seem ghastly
unrealities. Nothing can illustrate her Majesty’s simple geniality of
heart better than a story about her visit to Cambridge, which it may be
remarked Whewell does _not_ tell. He was no courtier, as all the world
knew, and he treated the Queen in the old-fashioned hospitable manner
which the middle-class gentry in England assume towards their guests.
The morning after her arrival he accordingly came down bustling into the
room quite unceremoniously, and, to the horror of the Lords and Ladies
in waiting, ignoring all Court etiquette, he walked up quite coolly and
saluted her with brusque frankness as follows:--“Good-morning, your
Majesty! How d’ye do? Hope your Majesty slept well. Fine morning, isn’t
it?” to which the Queen, to the astonishment of her suite, returned an
equally cordial answer, wreathed in the sweetest of smiles.
The visit to Scotland was arranged in August, after the General Election
brought peace for a time into the political world. On the 11th of August
the Royal party left Osborne in the Royal yacht; “our party,” says
Prince Albert, “being composed of Victoria and myself, the two eldest
children, with Miss Hildyard, Charles (Prince of Leiningen), the Duke
and Duchess of Norfolk, Lady Jocelyn, General Wemyss, and Sir James
Clark.” On the 12th they succeeded, in spite of the mist, in getting
well out towards the Atlantic, but though the Prince, thanks to the
advice of Admiral Sir Charles Napier, whose panacea for sea-sickness was
a glass of port wine, stood the voyage well, some of the party were so
sea-sick that they had to abandon the yacht at Falmouth. On the 13th
they paid a hazardous visit to “the dogs of Scilly”--as one of the party
observed to the Prince, “That is a very good thing over; I should think
you will never care to see them again;” and on the 14th, under brighter
skies and over smoother seas, they neared the Welsh coast, making land
at Milford Haven, and anchoring under the shadow of its red cliffs. The
Prince paid a flying visit to Pembroke Dockyard and Castle, but the
Queen sat on deck sketching, as was often her favourite custom in these
cruises to Scotland. On the 15th they were opposite the Isle of
Anglesea, gazing with silent rapture on the hoary head of Snowdon rising
from the midst of a sea of surrounding verdure. The _Victoria and
Albert_ was then sent to Holyhead, the Royal party proceeding in the
_Fairy_ through the Menai Straits, and passing the old Keep of
Carnarvon, and Plas Newydd, and many other places recalling to the mind
of the Queen touching reminiscences of a Welsh tour which, when Princess
Victoria, she had made with her mother. On the 16th they ran into
Douglas Bay and Ramsey Harbour in the Isle of Man, where, remarks Prince
Albert in a letter to Stockmar, the good people “put in their paper that
I led the Prince Regent (the little Prince of Wales) by the hand.”
“Usually,” he adds humorously, “one has a Regent for an infant; but in
Man it seems precisely the reverse.” On the 17th they were tossing in
wonderment before the beetling cliffs of Ailsa Craig, their ears
deafened by the screams of the sea-birds that wheeled and whirled in
clouds between them and the sun; but as the creatures kept out of range,
“with almost mathematical precision,” says Prince Albert mournfully, not
one fell to his gun. The noble outlines of the Isle of Arran then broke
on their view, and they sped on through Lamlash and Brodick Bays, past
the Isle of Bute, past the Cumbraes, and up the romantic Firth of Clyde,
with its great sea fiords eating their way northwards into the heart of
the Highlands, to Greenock, where, embarking in the _Fairy_, they flew
along to Dumbarton, “pursued in the literal sense by upwards of forty
steamers.” The castle on the old rock here was explored, and the party
then returned to Rothesay Bay, where the people were delighted to see
their young Duke (the Prince of Wales). On the 18th they ran through the
far-famed Kyles of Bute, on to Inverary, where an old-fashioned Highland
welcome awaited them from the Duke and Duchess of Argyll, and a large
family party of old friends. “Outside,” writes the Queen, “stood the
Marquess of Lorne, just two years old, a dear, white, fat, fair little
fellow, with reddish hair, but very delicate features, like both his
mother and father; he is such a merry, independent little child. He had
a black velvet dress and jacket with a sporran, scarf, and Highland
bonnet.” There was luncheon in the castle, stalwart clansmen in their
tartans lining the fine feudal hall with halberts in their hands.
The Royal yacht then glided down Loch Fyne, whose waters sparkled in the
mellow sunshine, the Queen watching, with keen enjoyment, the long
swathes of golden light that fell athwart the mighty shoulders of the
mountains. Lochgilphead, the Sound of Jura, and Staffa were all reached
in turn, and, the weather being fine, they ran into Fingal’s Cave in the
Royal barge, with the Royal standard floating at the stern. “On me,”
observes Prince Albert, “the cave produced a most romantic impression,
on the ladies a very eerie and uncomfortable one.” The Queen
writes:--“At three we anchored close before Staffa, and immediately got
into the barge, with Charles, the children, and the rest of our people,
and rowed towards the cave. As we rounded the point, the wonderful
basaltic formation came into sight.... It (the cave) looked almost awful
as we entered, and the barge heaved up and down on the swell of the
sea.... It was the first time the British standard, with a Queen of
Great Britain and her husband and children, had ever entered Fingal’s
Cave.” Next day rain confined the Queen to her cabin, but in the
afternoon she was able to come on deck and see Loch Linnhe, Loch Eil,
and the entrance to Loch Leven. At Fort William the yacht anchored, and
Prince Albert, with the Prince of Leiningen, went up the grim and gloomy
Pass of Glencoe, haunted by the wraiths of the massacred Macdonalds.
When they returned the Queen landed from the yacht. In a drenching
Scotch mist she was enthusiastically welcomed by a vast gathering of
clansmen in characteristic tartans, and wearing their tribal badges, who
turned out to receive her. By a rough and dreary road the Royal
tourists drove through the mist to their destination--the lonely
shooting-lodge of Ardverikie, by the wildly-beautiful but desolate
shores of Loch Laggan. Ardverikie belonged to Lord Henry Bentinck, but
at the time of the Queen’s visit it was let to Lord Abercorn: its great
charm lay in its being, as the Prince said, a most “un-come-at-able”
place, and here the Royal family, despite the atrocious weather, enjoyed
a pleasant time of freedom and peace. Lord Grey and Lord Palmerston
visited them in turn, and with both the Prince talked gravely on foreign
politics--with the latter more especially, on impending troubles in
Italy.
It was on the 28th of August that the Queen and Prince Albert were
startled by a letter from Lord John Russell, intimating that Lord
Palmerston and he were desirous of sending Lord Minto to Italy as an
unofficial envoy to strengthen and encourage Pope Pius IX. in his
reforming policy. This step, one may say in passing, was the one at
which Mr. Disraeli jeered when he ridiculed the Whigs for sending their
emissary to teach politics to the countrymen of Machiavelli. Her Majesty
and her husband were of opinion that great caution would be necessary in
arranging this mission, as it was illegal for the English Government to
hold direct diplomatic intercourse with the Vatican; but they fully
agreed that the time had come for England to adopt an independent line
in foreign policy. “England’s mission,” wrote the Prince to Lord John
Russell, “is to put herself at the head of the diffusion of civilisation
and the attainment of liberty,” and they felt that it was no longer
possible to adopt a purely passive attitude in the growing contest
between Absolutism, as represented by Austria, and the forces of
Liberalism which were beginning to strain the fetters in which the
policy of Metternich confined them. But England, in the opinion of the
Queen and her husband, was to wisely act the part of a sympathetic
guide, and not push any nation beyond its own march, nor “impose on any
nation what that nation does not itself produce.” But, says the Prince,
boldly, “let her declare herself the protector and friend of all States
engaged in progress, and let them acquire that confidence in England
that she will, if necessary, defend them at her own risk.” Long and
anxiously had these matters been debated between the Queen, her husband,
and Lord Palmerston, who was with them. It was, however, agreed that on
these lines Lord Minto’s instructions should be drawn up, and that
similar instructions should be sent to all our diplomatic agents abroad
for their guidance. The main idea of the new departure in foreign
policy, according to the Prince, was that, whilst England should foster
the cause of constitutional progress abroad, there must be no “pressing
upon any State an advance which is not the result of its own impulse.”
In carrying out this policy Lord Palmerston contrived to embroil England
with every great Power in Europe. That, however, does not prove that the
policy was bad. It merely shows that Lord Palmerston’s methods of
dealing with foreign Governments were deficient alike in tact and
taste--that his diplomacy, in fact, was
[Illustration: PRINCE ALBERT DEER-STALKING IN THE HIGHLANDS.]
tainted with the _taquinerie_, of which M. Bastiat complained so
bitterly to Mr. Cobden some years afterwards, and which ultimately
rendered him as obnoxious personally to the Queen as he became to his
own colleagues. About the end of September the Royal Family returned
home, the Queen carrying with her, despite the bad weather, the
brightest memories of lonely Ardverikie.
How complete, restful, and enjoyable the change of scene and occupation
must have been for the Queen is brightly indicated by Lord Palmerston.
He
[Illustration: HIGHLAND COTTAGES IN LOCHABER.]
told Lord Campbell that her Majesty was greatly delighted with the
Highlands, in spite of the bad weather, and “that she was accustomed to
sally forth for a walk in the midst of a heavy rain, putting a great
hood over her bonnet, and showing nothing of her features but her eyes.
The Prince’s invariable return to luncheon at two o’clock, in spite of
grouse-shooting and deer-stalking, is explained by his voluntary desire
to please the Queen, and by the intense hunger which always assails him
at this hour, when he likes, in the German fashion, to make his
dinner.”[87] One is not surprised, then, that in some of her Majesty’s
letters to her relatives abroad, a note of regret is sounded over the
exchange of this life of perfect freedom, for the ceremony, constraint,
and semi-publicity which make up the daily round of life at Court.
Out of the conversations and discussions with Lord Palmerston and Prince
Leiningen at Ardverikie grew projects for a policy of alliance with
Germany, and foreshadowings of the great movement towards Unity which
the Fatherland was, in the opinion of the Prince, bound to make under
the leadership of Prussia. Nothing can be clearer than the Prince’s
prevision in discussing this theme, or sounder than his arguments for an
Anglo-German alliance, based on geographical and ethnical
considerations. Lord Palmerston apparently agreed that England and
Germany had reason to fear the same enemies, France and Russia, and that
they had therefore an obvious interest in strengthening each other. But
the German Zollverein, excellent as it was as a means of paving the way
for German Unity, imposed prohibitory duties on English goods, and Lord
Palmerston stoutly held that an English Minister would neglect his duty
to his country if he did not use his influence to prevent every German
State not yet in the Customs Union from joining it. To sacrifice the
Zollverein was to destroy the germ of German Unity, and here the
divergence between Palmerston’s views and those of the Court became
patent. He was quite prepared to sacrifice the Zollverein in the cause
of Free Trade. The Court was not.
CHAPTER XVIII.
REVOLUTION.
At Osborne--Beginnings of Revolution--The Reform Banquets in
Paris--Lola Montes and the King of Bavaria--Downfall of Louis
Philippe’s Government--Flight of the King--Establishment of the
Second Republic--The Queen and the Orleans Family--The Chartist
Movement--Its Secret History--Its Leaders--The Queen Retreats to
Osborne--The Chartist Meeting at Kennington--London in Terror--The
Duke of Wellington’s Precautions--Abortive Risings at Bonner’s
Fields and in Seven Dials--Riots in the Large Towns--Collapse of
Chartism--Ireland and the “Young Irelanders”--The Rebellion of
“’48”--The Battle of the Cabbage Garden--Arrest of Smith O’Brien
and the “Young Ireland” Leaders--Austria and Prussia in
Anarchy--Flight of Metternich--The Berlin Mob and the King--Anxiety
of the English Court--The Queen’s Correspondence with her
Half-Sister--The Anglo-Spanish Quarrel--Sir H. Bulwer Expelled from
Madrid--The Queen’s Indignation at Lord Palmerston--Conversation
between the Queen and Lord John Russell--Palmerston’s Victory--The
“Three Budget” Session--The Anti-Income-Tax Agitation--Blundering
in Finance--“Scenes” in Parliament--Irish and Colonial
Controversies--The Encumbered Estates Act--Repressive
Legislation--Dawn of the Reform Agitation.
During the autumn Session of Parliament, while the Irish Coercion Bill
was under debate, the Queen and her family retired to Osborne. Pleasant
experiments in landscape gardening there formed an agreeable diversion
from the distracting anxieties of foreign politics in London. And truly
by this time affairs on the Continent began to assume a more threatening
aspect than ever. In Switzerland the rebellion of the seven Catholic
cantons of the Sonderbund had been crushed by General Dufour, who
commanded the forces of the other fifteen cantons. The rising was
suppressed before the Cabinets of England, Austria, France, Russia, and
Prussia had time to intervene. But in Italy the popular party, excited
by rumours of Lord Minto’s sympathy with their movement, were stirring
up the people against their Austrian masters. The Pope was growing
afraid of his own diluted Liberalism. France was rapidly becoming
demoralised. Sensational trials in the law courts revealed a shocking
amount of corruption in official circles in Paris. The deficit in the
Budget was greater than had been anticipated. Louis Philippe was accused
of debauching the electorate and the Representative Chamber by bribery;
his quarrel with England, and his futile attempt to win compensatory
alliances elsewhere, destroyed his prestige; the Liberal Party, secretly
encouraged by his enemy, Lord Palmerston, attacked his Government with
every weapon of invective and ridicule; his Ministers had lost the
confidence of the people, and the demand for a wide extension of the
franchise accordingly became loud and deep. To this demand, perfectly
reasonable in itself, the King and his Minister, M. Guizot, offered the
most dogged and infatuated opposition.
The movement in North Italy against Austrian domination also created an
agitation for reforms in the Two Sicilies, to which the King would make
no concessions whatever. The Royal troops, in January, 1848, were beaten
in an attempt to quell a revolt in the island of Sicily, and a futile
compromise was scornfully rejected by the insurgents, who insisted on
nothing less than the Constitution of 1812, and the assembly of a
Parliament at Palermo. Naples in turn became restive, whereupon the
terrified King dismissed his autocratic advisers, formed a Liberal
Ministry, and granted a Constitution, with an amnesty, on the 12th of
February. Even Lord Minto, Palmerston’s unofficial emissary to “Young
Italy,” failed to persuade the Sicilians to accept it. But these
concessions, barren as they were, forced the hands of the Pope and of
the rulers of Tuscany and Sardinia, who in turn granted Constitutions.
In fact, the tide of revolution was rising fast, and threatened to sweep
everything before it in the Italian Peninsula.
Opinions differ as to what was the spark that lit the conflagration
which made 1848 the _annus mirabilis_ of Revolution. It has been
customary to say it was the stupid opposition of Louis Philippe and M.
Guizot to the Reform banquets in France, which were fixed for the 22nd
of February. Lord Malmesbury, however, traces the origin of the outbreak
to the popular disturbances in Munich early in the month. The people of
Munich, it seems, were incensed against the King, who had dismissed his
Prime Minister, Prince Wallenstein, for advising him to expel his
mistress, Lola Montes, from Bavaria after her infamous influence had
become paramount in the Royal councils.[88] Lola Montes had a most
extraordinary career. She first appeared in society in London in Lord
Malmesbury’s house, where she sang ballads--Spanish ballads--and was
spoken of as the widow of a certain Don Diego Leon, who had been shot by
the Carlists. His lordship, an easy, good-natured man, had made her
acquaintance in a railway carriage coming up from Southampton, and that
was the story she had told him. She was permitted to sell laces, veils,
trinkets, and “curios” to Lord Malmesbury’s guests at his private
concerts, so that she might earn a little money, while trying to dispose
of some
[Illustration: THE REVOLUTION IN PARIS: CROWDS SINGING “MOURIR POUR LA
PATRIE.”]
“property,” about which there was much mystery. Then she went on the
stage at the Opera House as a dancer, but was a failure. It ultimately
turned out that she was a rank impostor, for instead of being the widow
of a Spanish Don, she was a “Spaniard” from Cork, who had married an
Irish officer called James, in the Company’s service in India. It was
after her failure at the Opera House that she captivated the King of
Bavaria, who used to permit her to review the Royal army, and amuse him
by slashing the faces of his veteran generals with her riding-whip, when
their troops failed to reach her standard of smartness. On the 19th of
February she was driven from Munich--the troops refusing to fire on the
people. Her house was sacked, and her collection of pictures destroyed.
M. Guizot, on the 21st of February, prohibited the Reform banquet in
Paris. On Tuesday the 22nd the National Guard had revolted, and the mob
from behind barricades attacked the troops. On Wednesday not one-tenth
of the National Guards answered the roll-call. The Government was
paralysed with panic; Ministers resigned, and M. Odillon Barrot
impeached M. Guizot. The insurrection rapidly made headway, and on the
24th Louis Philippe abdicated in favour of his son, the Comte de Paris,
and fled from his capital.
[Illustration: LANDING OF LOUIS PHILIPPE AT NEWHAVEN.]
As soon as the Royal Family had left the Tuileries, the mob gutted the
Palace, smashing everything in it but the throne, which they carried
through the streets, amidst shrieks of derision. M. Lamartine formed a
Provisional Government, which proclaimed a Republic. The King and Queen,
it seems, made their way to Dreux, where, thanks to a friendly farmer,
they procured disguises. After wandering to Trouville and Honfleur, they
ultimately embarked in a fishing-boat, and were picked up by the
Southampton steamer, _Express_, which had been hovering off Havre to
meet the fugitives. On the 3rd of March, about midnight, his Majesty,
under the name of “Mr. Smith,” was shivering in a little public-house at
Newhaven, called the “Bridge Inn.” On the 4th they reached London, and
immediately drove to Claremont. Other members of the Royal Family of
France arrived by devious ways, after much variety of perilous
adventure, and were received by the Queen with a generous hospitality,
the warmth of which was indeed far from pleasing to the English people.
England had neither forgotten nor forgiven the hostile duplicity of
Louis-Philippe’s foreign policy, and even Prince Albert had to beg her
Majesty--whose heart has always been easily touched by the spectacle of
sorrow or misfortune--to moderate her expression of sympathy for the
dethroned monarch. In the House of Commons some of the Radicals, alarmed
at the Ministerial proposals to increase the military expenditure of the
country, professed to see in these courtly demonstrations of compassion
additional proofs of hostile designs, on the part of England, against
the French Republic. Cobden, in a letter to his friend, Mr. George
Combe, of Edinburgh, said he dreaded the revival of the Treaty of
Vienna, for he suspected that the Court and the aristocracy were eager
to make war on the Republic. So far as Prince Albert was concerned this,
as we have seen, was an unjust suspicion. But it was equally unjust to
the Queen. “We do everything we can for the poor family,” she wrote to
King Leopold, “who are indeed sorely to be pitied. But you will
naturally understand that we cannot make common cause with them, and
cannot take a hostile position to the new state of things in
France.”[89] In truth, Louis Philippe--who complained to the Queen that
Palmerston’s intrigues with the Liberals in France had upset his
Government--deserved his fate. The outbreak which followed the foolish
prohibition of the Reform banquet was only that of a turbulent mob. The
King had a large and loyal army at his back, and the proverbial “whiff
of grapeshot” would at the outset have quelled the rising. Louis
Philippe, however, lacked the courage to defend his crown, and his
flight transformed a riot into a revolution. At the same time the French
people acquiesced in the Revolution of ’48 for various reasons, which
have been very fairly stated by two of the shrewdest observers of the
day, Sir Robert Peel and M. Alexis de Tocqueville. When Mr. Hume crossed
the floor of the House of Commons one evening, and carried the news of
Louis Philippe’s fall to Peel, the latter whispered to Hume:--“This
comes of trying to govern the country through a narrow representation in
Parliament, without regarding the wishes of those outside. It is what
the Party behind me wanted me to do in the matter of the Corn Laws, and
I would not do it.”[90] M. de Tocqueville, three weeks before the
Revolution, predicted the catastrophe in a speech in the Chamber, in
which he warned the Government that it was trembling on a volcano of
Socialism.[91] In a letter to Mr. Senior he says that the real cause of
the Revolution was “the detestable spirit which animated the Government
during this long reign; a spirit of trickery, of baseness, and of
bribery, which has enervated and degraded the middle classes, destroyed
their public spirit, and filled them with a selfishness so blind as to
induce them to separate their interests entirely from those of the lower
classes, from whence they sprang,” who were thus delivered over to the
quacks of Communism, and the tyranny of ideas, destructive not merely of
ministries and dynasties, but of moral order and civil society.[92] An
elected legislature, springing from a narrow franchise, and a strong
centralised Government, were both manipulated for dynastic, as
distinguished from national, purposes, by a selfish monarch, who had not
the courage to defend his throne. The vast increase in material wealth
which Louis Philippe’s reign brought to France, held as it was by a
limited class, who had forfeited the respect of the nation, failed in
these circumstances to avert the calamity that gave birth to the Second
Republic.
England, more fortunate than France, was but lightly touched by the edge
of the Revolutionary cyclone. It caused a few Chartist riots in Great
Britain, and the rising of the Nationalist Party in Ireland, headed by
Mr. Smith O’Brien.
On the 6th of March, whilst the Budget controversy was raging in the
House of Commons, Mr. Cochrane, a defeated candidate for the
representation of Westminster, organised a popular demonstration against
the proposal to increase the Income Tax. A misguided mob, who had no
incomes to tax, converted the meeting into a riot in Trafalgar Square,
which the police suppressed. On the 5th of March Glasgow was surprised
by a mob of unemployed workmen, and it took three days ere the police
and the military forces, reinforced by special constables, restored
order. Riots were also suppressed in Edinburgh, Manchester, and
Newcastle. In London, however, the Chartists threatened to assemble on
Kennington Common 150,000 men. Under the leadership of Feargus O’Connor
they were to march to Westminster, ostensibly for the purpose of
presenting to the House of Commons a monster petition, explaining their
grievances, and demanding reform.
The grievance of the Chartists was really the grievance of the working
classes. Their alliance and support enabled the middle classes to wring
from the Crown and the Peers the Reform Bill of 1832. But the middle
class alone profited by that Bill, which transferred political power
from the aristocracy to the shopocracy, leaving the artisans and manual
toilers unenfranchised. Why their persistent agitation for political
privileges since 1832 should have led people to believe that revolution
was impending in 1848, has been considered a mystery, especially as the
outbreak on Kennington Common was a _fiasco_. Yet there was good reason
for this panic. From Lord Grey’s correspondence it is now clear that the
country was on the brink of civil war in 1831, when the King resisted
Reform. But from 1831 to 1848, the resistance to an extension of the
franchise had come not from the Crown, but from the House of Commons.
When, however, the House of Commons obstructs progress in England--and
it is apt to do so whenever it gets the chance--the situation becomes
serious. Obstruction from the Sovereign, if unreasonable and malignant,
can always be met by the power of the Commons to stop supplies.
Obstruction by the Upper House can be met by the power of the Crown to
create new Peers. For obstruction by the House of Commons,
[Illustration: BRIDGE AND CASTLE, NEWPORT, MON.]
however, it was felt that there was no real remedy but argument or
revolution--argument if the people were comfortable and patient,
revolution if they were hungry and impatient.
The Chartist organisation of 1839--which collapsed with the Newport
riots--was really a gigantic secret society. It was organised by Major
Beniowski, a Polish teacher of mnemonics, three working men--Cardo, a
shoemaker, Warden, a gardener, one Westropp (occupation unknown)--and a
mysterious individual, said to be a foreign police spy. On a given hour,
on a given day, twenty cities were to be burned to the ground, and a
reign of terror was to be inaugurated. The late Mr. David Urquhart
claimed to have discovered the conspiracy, and to have broken it up by
demonstrating to some of the leading workmen implicated that two of its
chiefs were Russian agents, who had some time before planned a similar
outbreak in Greece. Suspecting they were being used as tools of a
Foreign Power, the English conspirators countermanded the order for a
simultaneous rising, and thus it came to pass that the outbreak in
Wales, where Beniowski was in command, was the sole result of the
movement. There is good reason to believe that the Chartists were
working
[Illustration: JOSEPH STURGE.]
with Continental revolutionists, but it must not be forgotten that Mr.
Urquhart suffered from a monomania, which took the odd form that
everybody who differed from him was a Russian spy.[93] The political
position of the Chartists was rather curious. The Tories were the only
Party who showed them any sympathy, for they shared their antagonism to
the Reform settlement of 1832, which was essentially a Whig settlement.
Then the Chartists were always suspicious of the Free Trade movement as
a capitalists’ agitation, the real object of which was not to give the
people cheap bread, but to get them to work for low wages on the
strength of reducing the price of food. Mr. Cobden’s friends often
complained that the Anti-Corn-Law League meetings were broken up by
Chartist roughs, who were incited to violence by Tory Protectionists.
After the collapse of the conspiracy at Newport, the Chartists formed a
purely political organisation, whose objects were admirably described in
the able and moderate speech in which Mr. Sharman Crawford, in 1842,
attempted, without success, to pledge the House of Commons to take the
People’s Charter into consideration. The motion was contemptuously
rejected by 226 to 67. The Chartists were then divided into two
parties--the London Convention, representing the “physical force”
Chartists, and the smaller Birmingham Convention, identified with Mr.
Joseph Sturge. He aimed at reconstructing the alliance between the
working and middle classes, that had carried Parliamentary Reform in
1832, and at starting an agitation for an extension of the Franchise,
and for triennial Parliaments. Both factions joined in bringing the
pressure of agitation on Parliament in 1848, an agitation which it now
seems was quite peaceful in its intent, though the revolutionary
excitement in France naturally induced the well-to-do classes to see in
it an anarchical conspiracy. The first check the Chartists received was
the intimation that their meeting and their procession would be
prohibited because both were likely to lead to disturbances.
It is amusing to look back now on the panic that smote the upper and
middle classes at this time. On Friday, the 7th of April, Lord Campbell
wrote to his brother, declaring that “many people believe that by Monday
we shall be under a Provisional Government.” It is only fair to say that
the Duke of Wellington scoffed at all these alarmist rumours--in fact,
he told Lady Jersey that there was no reason to be alarmed, and he
advised ladies who consulted him to drive about as usual.[94] “I
suppose,” writes Lord Campbell again, “we shall all fly to Hartrigge--if
I can escape in disguise.” On the 9th of April Campbell again
writes:--“(Yesterday) we were considering in the Cabinet how the
Chartists should be dealt with, and when it was determined that the
procession should be stopped after it had moved, we agreed that the
particular place where it should be stopped was purely a military
question. The Duke of Wellington was requested to come to us, which he
did very readily. We had then a regular council of war, as upon the eve
of a great battle. We examined maps and returns and information of the
movements of the enemy. After long deliberation, plans of attack and
defence were formed to meet every contingency. The quickness,
intelligence, and decision which the Duke displayed were very striking,
and he inspired us all with perfect confidence by the dispositions which
he prescribed. There are now above 7,000 regular troops in London,
besides a train of artillery. The special constables are, as you will
see, countless. We are most afraid of disturbances after the procession
is dispersed, and of the town being set fire to in the night.” This was
a memorable Cabinet meeting, and Macaulay said he should remember it to
his dying day.[95]
The demonstration, which frightened everybody except the Duke of
Wellington, took place on Monday, the 10th of April--a hot spring
morning favouring the objects of the agitators. The delegates first of
all met in convention at 9 a.m. in the Literary and Scientific
Institution, John Street, Fitzroy Square, and received an intimation
from the Commissioners of Police that the “Monster” Petition might be
taken to the House of Commons, but that no procession would be allowed
to accompany it. Mr. Feargus O’Connor gave the delegates prudent and
pacific advice, but they resolved to adjourn to Kennington Common, hold
their meeting, and then proceed in procession with the petition to
Westminster in spite of all opposition.
Gradually the ever-increasing mass of agitators marched on, crossing the
Thames at Blackfriars Bridge, and reaching Kennington Common at 11.30
a.m. A communication was then made to Mr. O’Connor by the police
authorities, the result of which was that a compromise was arrived at.
Mr. Mayne, the Commissioner of Police, agreed to permit the prohibited
meeting to be held, and Mr. O’Connor agreed to abandon the idea of a
procession, and to pass his word that the demonstration would be
conducted in an orderly manner. The authorities had arranged to block
the bridges with police and, if need be, troops. Even “physical force”
Chartists like Mr. Ernest Jones could only accept the situation, whilst
regretting that the meeting had not been held on the other side of the
river, in which case they would not have had to recross the bridges to
march on the House of Commons. Mr. Jones admitted, however, that they
were not prepared to fight the authorities, and he, too, advised the
meeting to disperse peacefully. Spasmodic outbreaks of horseplay and
demonstrations of displeasure from isolated groups of agitators took
place. A man called Spurr, supported by Mr. Cuffey, insisted on going on
with the procession until they were stopped, whereupon they could
withdraw the petition on the ground that they had met with illegal
resistance.
During the day the streets presented the appearance of a holiday. The
police were withdrawn from their beats, and concentrated on special
points, the town being patrolled by special constables--among whom, by
the way, Prince Charles Louis Bonaparte, afterwards Napoleon III., was
enrolled--who wore white bands on their arms, and carried truncheons as
emblems of authority. These patriotic citizens were mercilessly
ridiculed by their ungrateful fellow-citizens, who passed rude remarks
on their awkward appearance and their incongruities of stature and
costume. People were extremely unfeeling in their comments on the
appearance of certain “specials” who wore spectacles or eyeglasses, and
who carried umbrellas in addition to their staves. All the public
buildings were garrisoned with troops; the clerks in the public offices
formed special corps of defence, and many gentlemen of rank brought up
their gamekeepers from the country, armed them, and prepared their
mansions for a regular siege.[96] Trafalgar Square was occupied by 200
police. The parks were closed; a corporal’s guard of the Household
Troops held each entrance to them, and patrols of the Guards
[Illustration: FEARGUS O’CONNOR.]
marched up and down the Mall. Apsley House was barricaded, and Mr.
Carlyle says Piccadilly was almost deserted, the Green Park shut, “even
the footpaths of it;” and “in the inside stood a score of mounted
Guardsmen, privately drawn up under the arch--dreadful cold, I daresay.
For the rest, not a single fashionable carriage was in the street, not a
private vehicle, but, I think, two surgeons’ broughams all the way to
Egyptian Hall, omnibuses running, a few street carts, even a mud-cart or
two; nothing else; the flag pavements also
[Illustration: THE CHARTIST DEMONSTRATION ON KENNINGTON COMMON.]
nearly vacant, not a fifth of the usual population there, and those also
of the strictly business kind.”[97] Buckingham Palace was protected by a
strong force under arms at Wellington Barracks, ready to march on it the
moment it was threatened. The Bank was fortified by a company of Sappers
and Miners, who built on the roof platforms for cannon, and guarded them
with loopholed breastworks of sandbags, &c., so that a mob could be
swept away by grapeshot at a moment’s notice. Special constables,
organised by Aldermen of the wards, guarded the City. Hardly a single
red-coat, however, was to be seen anywhere, but at various strategic
points troops were in readiness, to be let loose if the mob showed signs
of fighting. There was a fight between the police and the mob at
Blackfriars Bridge. But the police who guarded Waterloo Bridge were able
to amuse themselves as they pleased. No Chartists came near it--the
bridge being guarded by something much more formidable to them than
troops, namely, the man who kept the toll-bar.
When the events of the 18th ended with the contemptuous treatment which
the House of Commons gave to the Chartist petition, two things happened.
The upper middle class burst into a chorus of triumph over their
successful suppression of anarchy. The working classes who joined the
Chartist movement were flung into the arms of the “physical force
party,” who pointed to the failure of the petition and the
demonstration, as a proof that the methods of agitation favoured by Mr.
Sturge and the Birmingham Convention were futile. It is important to
keep these facts in view, for the transformation of the Chartist
movement into a movement of violence after the 10th of April, has led
many writers to assume that the peaceful agitation which culminated in
the Kennington meeting was truly a revolutionary conspiracy, which was
put down by the courageous demonstration made by the Party of Order. The
facts that the meeting at Kennington was unarmed, that its numbers, so
far from reaching 100,000, did not exceed 20,000, that the existence of
a toll-bar on one of the bridges was sufficient to determine the
direction which the “revolutionary” procession should take, and, above
all, the fact that the meeting was held on the Surrey side of the river,
thus leaving the police and troops in complete command of the bridges in
rear of the Chartists--all indicate that up to the 10th there was no
serious idea of appealing to arms. It was absurd to argue that the event
was dwarfed by the preparations which were made to meet it, for these
preparations were kept secret. On the other hand, a good effect was
subsequently produced by these preparations, for they showed that the
Party of Order, though quite willing to give Mr. Feargus O’Connor full
liberty to play the braggart and the fool, were also determined to
maintain the law against any mob of law-breakers, however strong or
however turbulent. They gave agitators fair warning that in England, at
least, the resources of civilisation against anarchy were by no means
exhausted. The Queen had with some hesitation yielded to the advice of
the Cabinet, and had removed the Court to Osborne during this anxious
period. But she and Prince Albert both kept a vigilant eye on events as
they unfolded themselves in the metropolis. Writing to King Leopold on
the 11th of April, she says:--“Thank God, the Chartist meeting and
procession have turned out a complete failure! The loyalty of the people
at large has been very striking, and their indignation at their peace
being interfered with by such wanton and worthless men immense.”[98]
Albany Fonblanque had the fairness to admit that it was “clear that the
bulk of the London Chartists have no disposition to commit themselves to
the chances of involving it in outrage;”[99] and Mr. Cobden says, in one
of his letters:--“In my opinion the Government and the newspapers have
made too much fuss about it (the Chartist rising).”[100]
The two men who got and deserved most credit for the happy termination
of the Chartist meeting were Sir George Grey, the Home Secretary, and
the Duke of Wellington, whose opinions on the affair had the greatest
weight with the Queen. On the 11th of April, when all was quiet, the
Duke of Wellington met Lord Campbell, and the following conversation
took place between them:--“I went up to him,” writes Lord Campbell, “and
said, ‘Well, Duke, it has all turned out as you foretold.’ _Duke_--‘Oh,
yes, I was sure of it, and I never showed a soldier or a musket. But I
was ready. I could have stopped them wherever you liked, and if they had
been armed it would have been all the same.’ _Campbell_--‘They say they
are to meet next on the north side of the town, and avoid the bridges.’
_Duke_--‘Every street can be made a bridge. I can stop them anywhere.’
_Campbell_--‘If your Grace had commanded Paris on the 25th of February,
Louis Philippe would still have been on the throne.’ _Duke_--‘It would
have been an easy matter. I should have made the Tuileries secure, and
have kept my communications open.’ Then, _more suo_, laying hold of my
arm, and speaking very loud, and pointing with his finger, he
added--‘Always keep your communications open, and you need have nothing
to fear’”[101]
When the _fiasco_ of the 10th of April put the Chartist organisation
under the control of the “physical force” party, the first step was
initiated by Mr. Ernest Jones in the National Convention. It was to
reconstruct the whole Chartist body as a secret society, on the pattern
of the United Irishmen. Moderate men were removed from the Executive
Council, and agitators like Dr. Macdowall, who had taken a prominent
part in the troubles of ’39 and ’42, were elected in their places. The
change in their methods was first illustrated by the sudden assemblage,
without warning, of a vast meeting of 80,000 men on Clerkenwell Green
and Stepney Green, on the evening of the 29th of May, when processions
from all parts of London also moved by converging routes to Smithfield,
and then marched along Holborn, Oxford Street, Pall Mall, the Strand,
Fleet Street, Ludgate Hill, to Finsbury Square, where they dispersed.
This was a demonstration arranged to test the working of the new secret
organisation. Rifles and pikes began to appear in the lodgings of the
Chartists. An alliance was formed with some of the turbulent leaders of
the “Young Ireland” Party. Spies were swarming in every city, and a
[Illustration: CHARTIST AGITATION: THE POLICE FORCE ON BONNER’S FIELDS.
(_Reduced, by permission, after the Engraving in “The Illustrated London
News.”_)]
Secret Committee, consisting of seven men, named Cuffey, Ritchie, Lacey,
Fay, Rose, Mullins, and a man named Powell, _alias_ Johnson, who, though
pretending to be a workman, was really a professional pedestrian, known
in sporting public-houses as the “Welsh Nurse,” began to plot a regular
insurrection. Powell joined the Committee to betray it, and his counsels
breathed of fire and slaughter. Ernest Jones had by this time been
imprisoned for proclaiming to a meeting that the green flag would soon
wave over Downing Street; and another man had also been imprisoned--one
Williams--because in a speech he had insinuated that the Government was
brutalising the people by letting the police beat them with truncheons,
when they came into collision with Chartist meetings on Clerkenwell
Green. Whit Monday, the 12th of June, was the day fixed on for the
Revolution, and on that day the Metropolitan branches of the Society
were to assemble on Blackheath and Bishop Bonner’s Fields--meetings
which were prohibited by the police as illegal. When warrants were
issued for the arrest of Macdowall and the leaders, the Blackheath
meeting was abandoned, and orders were given to concentrate a Chartist
gathering on Bonner’s Fields, so as to divert a large police force from
the
[Illustration: WILLIAM SMITH O’BRIEN.]
City. On the evening of the 12th the Chartists resolved to abandon the
meeting on Bonner’s Fields, not because the authorities at Scotland Yard
prohibited it, but because it was raining, comforting themselves with
the reflection that they had detained a large force of police and troops
there to watch them. They were then in hopes, as Rose, one of the
leaders, said to Mr. Frost, that in London by that time “they are at it
hammer and tongs.”[102] But when the time came for striking, the
conspirators were unprepared, and nothing was done. Some of the
leaders--like Cuffey--now felt that it was hopeless to attempt an armed
revolt, yet the forces behind them were too strong to be controlled, and
they were compelled to go on when they would have drawn back. They
accordingly fixed the 15th of August for the grand effort; but on that
day, when waiting in the “Orange Tree” public-house, in Orange Street,
Bloomsbury, they were suddenly arrested by a small body of armed police.
“A sword,” writes Mr. Frost, “was found under the coat of one, and the
head of a pike, made to screw into a socket, under that of another. One
had a pair of pistols in his pocket, and the fourth was provided with a
rusty bayonet, fastened on the end of a stick. Some were without other
weapons than shoemakers’ knives. A pike, which no one would own, was
found under a bench.”
At this moment groups of surly-looking labourers were lounging in the
streets and at the bars of public-houses in the Seven Dials. Suddenly a
man with haggard eyes and a face pale with fear was seen to rush into
the midst of a group at the corner of St. Andrew’s Street, and whisper a
few hurried words to a labourer, who with a pickaxe was fumbling about a
loose stone in the causeway. He was then seen darting from group to
group, from public-house to public-house, and very soon the police began
to hover in the distance. In a few minutes the groups of loungers had
almost entirely disappeared, and the public-houses were mysteriously
emptied. There is reason to believe that the flag of revolution was to
have been first raised in the Seven Dials, where the first barricades
were to have been flung up, the spot, says Mr. Frost, who was a leading
Chartist, being chosen “on account of its contiguity to Whitehall, and
the facilities offered by its narrow streets, radiating in so many
directions from a common centre, for a rapid advance.” The pale-faced
man, whose appearance was the signal for the dispersal of the loungers
round the Seven Dials, was an emissary from the “Orange Tree,” bringing
tidings of the arrests there. Cuffey, Ritchie, Lacey, and Fay were tried
for sedition, and sentenced to transportation for life. Mullins received
a long term of imprisonment. Powell, the spy, instead of a handsome
reward, only got a free passage to Australia, where, being an idle
fellow, he did not remain long. What became of him is not known. The
other spy, a constable named Mullins, was subsequently dismissed from
the police force for misconduct, and after a career of crime was hanged
for murdering an old woman called Elmsley, at Hackney, for the sake of a
few pounds she had in her house. The Chartist organisation broke up. Its
members, finding that the working classes alone could effect nothing,
sensibly reverted to the programme of Mr. Sturge and the Birmingham
Convention. They accordingly joined the Parliamentary Reform
Association, which was launched into existence by the middle-class
Radicals, under the auspices of Mr. Joseph Hume and his political
associates.
Writing to Baron Stockmar about the collapse of the Chartist meeting at
Kennington, Prince Albert says, in one of his letters--“I hope this will
read with advantage on the Continent. Ireland still looks dangerous.” It
had looked so “dangerous” at the end of 1847 that its condition,
together with the commercial panic in England, had caused Parliament to
be summoned in the November of that year. Now the country, under the
misguidance of the “Young Irelanders,” was drifting into civil war.
It is not difficult to be generous to a “lost cause,” and in the “Young
Ireland” movement, which ended in the disaster of ’48, there is much
that enlists the sympathies of liberal-minded liberty-loving men. It
sprang from a reaction among the youth of the educated and literary
classes, against the coarse vulgarity of O’Connell’s methods of
agitation. His favourite weapon was race-hatred. This he roused by
passionate appeals to bitter memories of the past, when “the base,
bloody, and brutal Saxon” trod the Celt under foot, tortured his
priests, desecrated his altars, and proscribed his faith. The “Young
Irelanders,” especially after Catholic Emancipation, felt that no
practical good was done to the rack-rented peasantry by denunciations of
Cromwell’s tyranny. Moving diatribes against Elizabethan oppression, in
their opinion, did still less to reform the bad government, the weak
executive, and alien bureaucracy of Ireland in the Victorian era.
O’Connell’s aim was to pit the Celtic Catholics against the Protestant
Anglo-Irish. The “Young Ireland” Party aimed at uniting all Irish
patriots, irrespective of creed or caste, in a purely political and
secular movement for emancipating the peasantry from landlordism, and
Ireland from English government. Sir Charles Gavan Duffy,[103] one of
the founders of the movement, says that its leaders favoured
constitutional agitation, but, if compelled to adopt stronger measures,
they were ready to accept the arbitrament of the sword. Their mistake
lay in committing themselves to this latter part of their programme,
without possessing the means of carrying it out. When they did that,
success could alone distinguish their policy from treason.
The “Young Irelanders” were led by Thomas Osborne Davis, Charles Gavan
Duffy, John Blake Dillon, and several other young men of enthusiasm and
talent, and their movement was literary as well as political. They
became an organised party in 1842, when the _Nation_ newspaper was
started, under Duffy’s editorship--a paper, says the late Mr. P. J.
Smyth,[104] which was “filled with a spirit of intense nationality.” Its
articles, political and historical, its ballads and lyrics, both
pathetic and humorous, were all devoted to glorify the achievements of
Irishmen in the past, or give voice to their passions, aspirations, and
demands in the present. All hereditary feuds, the “Young Irelanders”
said, must be forgotten. Ireland was to be Irish--not Anglo-Irish or
Celtic. All men who loved her were to be ranked as Irishmen. Hereditary
party spirit they regarded, wrote Sir C. Gavan Duffy, as an _ignis
fatuus_ in a country “where the lineal descendants of the O’Neils,
O’Briens, and O’Connors were Ministers, and where Philpot Curran, Wolfe
Tone, and Theobald Mathew sprang from Cromwellian soldiers.” The
agitators were a little hazy and vague and self-contradictory as to the
precise amount of
[Illustration: CHARLES GAVAN DUFFY (1848).]
allegiance which they would yield to the Imperial Government; and Davis,
in his correspondence with Daniel Owen Maddyn, rails as much at English
_ideas_--English Utilitarianism, Materialism, and “Sensualism”--as at
the supremacy of the Pope or Protestant ascendency. Just before the
outbreak of ’48, too, Mr. Smith O’Brien’s avowed object, as leader of
the “Young Irelanders,” was to set up in Ireland an independent
Republic. On the land question, however, they were sound and moderate.
They demanded security of tenure, fair rents, free sale of tenant-right,
and reasonable facilities for the natural growth of peasant
proprietors. But, said they in their manifesto in the _Nation_, “we are
not ready to jump into a servile war for this purpose,” and, as Mr. P.
J. Smyth has observed, they taught that “expropriation, if it could be
realised, would be disastrous.” Davis, who was poet-laureate of the
movement, was a Protestant of Welsh descent, Duffy and Dillon were
Catholics.
“Young Ireland” soon fell out with O’Connell and the patriots of
Conciliation Hall. O’Connell’s organ, the _Pilot_, attacked the _Nation_
for its
[Illustration: THE IRISH REBELLION OF 1848: FORGING PIKES.]
atheism. The _Nation_ retorted that O’Connell betrayed Ireland by
abandoning the “divine right of Revolution” for Whig alliances. In 1845
Davis died, and the leadership of the Party passed into the hands of
William Smith O’Brien, his lieutenants being John Mitchel and John
Martin. All three were Protestants. Mr. Smith O’Brien was descended from
King Brian Borhoimè--who played the part of Alfred the Great in Irish
history. A brother of Lord Inchiquin, he was an aristocrat and a Tory,
with frigid manners, and a high and chivalrous sense of honour. He had
drifted into the “Young Ireland” Party, firstly, because fourteen years’
experience of the Imperial Parliament convinced him that it could not
legislate wisely for Ireland, and, secondly, because he despaired of any
other Party obtaining for Ireland the only Government that could lift
her to her place among the nations. As a speaker he was cold, logical,
and stilted. But he had a severe and ascetic sense of public duty, and
his fidelity and truthfulness secured for him the unswerving loyalty of
his followers.
It was in 1847 that “Young Ireland” first came into collision with the
authorities. John Mitchel, whose violent teaching was abhorred by
O’Brien, virtually seceded from the Party represented by the _Nation_.
He had started the _United Irishman_, and he made it a venomous advocate
of Revolution. The outbreak in Paris, in 1848, put the game in Mitchel’s
hands. The populace imagined that no government could stand against a
mob. “Confederate” Clubs sprang up like mushrooms, and Mitchel became so
reckless in his appeals to force that the Government were compelled to
“gag” him. He was arrested and sentenced to fourteen years’
transportation for treason-felony, on the 20th of May, 1848. O’Brien and
Meagher, who had been prosecuted in March, escaped because the juries
disagreed.
Dr. Kevin Izod O’Doherty and Mr. D’Alton Williams, a fortnight after
Mitchel’s condemnation, brought out a new organ, the _Irish Tribune_,
and Martin, “honest John Martin,” as he was called, followed up with the
_Felon_, a paper whose teachings were so abominably bloodthirsty that
Albany Fonblanque, in the _Examiner_, suggested it ought to be called
the _Fiend_.[105] The sole defence for a truculence, which can be
paralleled only by the ravings of Marat, is that the “Young Irelanders”
had been goaded to madness by the terrible scenes of the famine, and the
apparent impotence of the English Government either to prevent or cope
with that hideous calamity. Five weeks after the _Felon_ appeared,
Martin, Williams, O’Doherty, and Duffy were arrested. The Habeas Corpus
Act was suspended, and warrants were out against Mr. Smith O’Brien and
Meagher (pronounced Maär), the latter the fiercest and most eloquent of
their orators. They felt they had now gone too far to draw back, though
it would have been easy for them to do so by simply letting themselves
be arrested. They considered it their duty to offer to head a rebellion
before they were captured; but when they appealed to the people to rise,
they found that the peasants hardly knew who they were. They were looked
on askance as the men who had quarrelled with O’Connell, and were
denounced by the priests. Even if the peasants had been willing, famine
had left them physically unfit for battle. Why dwell on the story of the
wretched _fiasco_ that was called the “rebellion” of ’48? The small band
of patriots who joined the standards of the insurgents had few
arms--pikes, old guns, and scythes were their chief weapons. They had
no commissariat, no generals, and no plan of campaign. A barricade,
commanded by Dillon, was “rushed” at Killenaule. At Ballingarry a party
under Mr. Smith O’Brien, hailed by his followers as “King of Munster,”
on the 26th of July besieged six policemen, who had taken refuge in a
farmhouse belonging to a widow called Cormack. The police refused to
surrender, and on the 29th Mr. O’Brien, with reinforcements, again
appeared. Another party of policemen came on the scene. A few shots were
exchanged, and then the insurgents tried to fire the building. “The
widow Cormack, whose five children were in the house,” writes Mr. A. M.
Sullivan,[106] “rushed to the rebel chief, flung herself on her knees,
and asked him if he was going to stain his name and cause by an act so
barbarous as the destruction of her little ones.” Mr. O’Brien ordered
the combustibles to be flung aside, and his followers, galled by the
fire from the improvised fortalice, and disgusted by his
soft-heartedness, beat a hasty retreat. The leader of the insurrection,
like Scott’s Highland Chieftain, “took to the hills, and became a broken
man.” On the 5th of August he walked from his mountain refuge to Thurles
Railway Station. When taking a ticket for Limerick, a guard named Hulme
recognised and arrested him. With Meagher, Leine, and O’Donoghue, who
were captured in the same locality, he was lodged in Kilmainham Gaol.
O’Brien and his comrades were tried at Clonmel on the 21st of September,
and sentenced to death. This was subsequently commuted to transportation
for life, whereupon the condemned men protested that the commutation was
_ultra vires_ on the part of the Queen, and that they had a legal right
to be “hanged, drawn, and quartered,” or set free! The protest was of no
avail, for Parliament quickly passed a special Act, empowering the Crown
to commute sentences of high treason. Dillon, O’Gorman, and O’Doherty
escaped to America. Duffy was thrice brought to trial, but his advocate,
Mr. Butt, thrice baffled his prosecutors. Mr. Smith O’Brien and his
companions were set free in Van Diemen’s Land, on parole. Subsequently
they were allowed to return home, but Mr. O’Brien died in retirement,
never again taking part in public life. Hundreds of able and promising
young men fled from the country, and Ireland suffered not only by the
exile, enforced or voluntary, of the most public-spirited men in her
governing middle class, but from the reaction and the prostration that
always follow an abortive revolution.
Though the progress of the Revolutionary movement in England, Ireland,
and France engrossed the interests of the Queen and Prince Albert, it
was impossible for them to be indifferent to its progress in other
countries, notably in Germany, where it took the form of a movement in
favour of National Unity. Ferdinand I., a monarch weak alike in body and
mind, at this time sat on the throne of Austria. He was, however, little
better than the tool of Prince Metternich, the energetic and
unscrupulous Minister in whom Absolutism was incarnate. After the fall
of Louis Philippe, turbulent Viennese mobs demanded constitutional
reforms in Austria. On the 13th of March, the populace sacked
Metternich’s Palace, in Vienna, and the Minister himself, disheartened
on finding that his Imperial master shrank from defending his
prerogatives, fled from the capital in disguise. “If emperors disappear,
it is never till they have come to despair of themselves,” was the
mocking observation with which Metternich placed his resignation in the
hands of the Archduke Charles. Hungary naturally caught the contagion of
Liberty, and Louis
[Illustration: THE EXCHANGE AND FREDERICK’S BRIDGE, BERLIN.]
Kossuth carried in the Diet at Pesth an address to the Emperor
Ferdinand, demanding a national Government, from which the
foreign--_i.e._, the German--element was to be eliminated. Feeble
efforts at repression in Vienna ended in the concession of a Free Press,
a National Guard, and a Liberal Constitution for the Empire.
It almost seemed as if the Revolution of ’48 had come to enforce the
views which the Queen and Prince Albert had in vain impressed on their
German relatives. Those views were to the effect that the time had
arrived when the Princes of the Empire ought, as a matter of grace, to
grant constitutional liberties to their subjects. But their Teutonic
Majesties and Serenities had lest their chance of conceding by policy
what Revolution now extorted from
[Illustration: THE KING OF PRUSSIA ADDRESSING THE BERLINERS. (_See p.
346._)]
them by force. The movement began in Baden, where, on the 29th of
February, the Grand Duke was compelled to grant a Free Press, a National
Guard, and Trial by Jury to his subjects. It spread fast through the
minor States. In Munich it ended in the abdication of the King on the
21st of March. In the Odenwald the peasants sacked the baronial castles,
and a servile war seemed imminent, even in Coburg. The Queen was
therefore excited by every fresh outbreak, her only consolation being
that Belgium--her uncle’s kingdom--remained tranquil. The Prince
Hohenlohe, the husband of her half-sister, and her half-brother, the
Prince of Leiningen, were simply ruined. “All minds,” writes the
Princess Hohenlohe to the Queen, “are on the stretch.... Never was such
a state of lawless vagabondage as there is now all over Germany, more or
less. At all hours of the day young men are walking about the streets
doing nothing.” Business was at a standstill: there was neither buying
nor selling, marrying nor giving in marriage; and the Queen’s
half-sister, in another letter, speaking of herself and her illustrious
family, remarks, piteously:--“We are undone, and must begin a new
existence of privations.”
Prussia was stricken sharply by the revolutionary tempest. The very day
after Metternich fled from Vienna the mob of Berlin rose against the
Government. Riot after riot followed this outbreak, and the concessions
proclaimed on the 18th of March came too late--though the King,
Frederick William, imagined he would win the sympathies of the German
race by advocating the formation of a United Germany, federated under
one flag, one army, one law, and one executive. The people, full of joy
at their triumph, went to the Palace to congratulate their Sovereign,
who came forth to harangue them. A glimmer of steel, however, within the
castle quadrangle in an instant transformed the loyal crowd into a
raging and rebellious mob. “Bitter experience,” says Mr. Charles
Lowe,[107] “had taught them to distrust the word of their King. But
instead of _retiring_, a squadron of dragoons, with a company of foot,
_advanced_ to clear the square; and either by accident or design, two
muskets were fired into the crowd. ‘Treason!’ ‘Revenge!’ ‘To arms!’ was
resounded on every side.” Two hundred barricades rose in the streets as
if by magic, “and the city was soon one wild scene of carnage,” lit
throughout the dark hours of night and morning by the red glare of
sacked and burning houses. The troops virtually triumphed, but the King,
grief-stricken, because of the slaughter of his “dear Berliners,”
suddenly gave the command next morning to “cease firing.” The unpopular
Ministers were dismissed. An amnesty was proclaimed, and the troops were
ordered to quit the city. A Burger Guard was extemporised, and the King
was compelled by the mob to stand bareheaded on the balcony of his
Palace, and salute a ghastly procession of the dead who had been slain
by his troops. On the 21st of March he rode through the streets,
delivering many effusive and emotional speeches, promising a liberal
constitution, and pledging himself, even in defiance of Austria, to head
the movement for German Unity. The Crown Prince (afterwards Emperor
William I.), who was wrongly supposed to have ordered the troops to fire
on the people, fled to England, and his Palace was saved solely because
some loyal person artfully chalked over it the words “National
Property.” He was most hospitably entertained by the Queen till the end
of May, when he returned to Berlin. “May God protect him,” writes her
Majesty to her uncle, King Leopold. “He is very noble-minded and honest,
and most cruelly wronged.”
Italy, already a hotbed of discontent, naturally participated in the
revolutionary movement. Early in March, Lombardy rose against the
Austrians, and Venice, led by Daniel Manin, proclaimed a Republic.
Charles Albert, King of Sardinia, yielding to popular pressure, put
himself at the head of the agitation for Italian unity, and on the 23rd
of March advanced to Milanese territory. The people of Tuscany and the
Papal States flew to arms, but were pacified by the grant of
constitutions, though the Pope was forced by the populace in May to levy
war on Austria, his most faithful ally. The Dukes of Parma and Modena
fled for their lives from their capitals. In Sicily alone the revolution
was suppressed by force. This seems to have disheartened the liberators
of North Italy--or, perhaps, it would be more correct to say it
encouraged their Austrian masters. Ignoring defeat after defeat, the
Austrians, under Radetsky, held on to their Italian provinces with grim
tenacity. Pacific mediation was rejected on both sides, and, finally,
Charles Albert, who by this time found that Sardinia was expected to
bear the brunt of the war single-handed, was rendered helpless by his
fatal reverses at Custozza (22nd of July) and Somma Campagna (26th of
July). The Pope, alarmed by the liberal movement he had encouraged, lost
the confidence of his subjects, and on the assassination of Rossi, his
secretary, fled from Rome to Gaeta (24th of November). From thence he
issued a protest against the Revolutionary Government of the Holy City,
which protest was promptly supported by the armed intervention of
France.
In Spain, however, the Revolution, in May, took a form which gave Queen
Victoria the greatest anxiety. At first all parties in the Cortes were
opposed to violence. Suddenly, however, the Party of Action waxed
strong. The Government foolishly prorogued the Cortes, and this was
followed by a protest in the shape of a popular rising in Madrid, on the
26th of March. It was suppressed, and a few of the most distinguished
men in Spain were summarily banished beyond the seas. Lord Palmerston
here interfered with characteristic recklessness and audacity. On the
16th of March he wrote to Sir Henry Bulwer, the British Minister at
Madrid, requesting him to advise the Queen of Spain to change her
Ministers. Sir Henry Bulwer not only sent a copy of this despatch to the
Duc de Sotomayor, but also procured its publication in the Opposition
newspapers. The Spanish Government, incensed at Sir H. Bulwer’s
intrigues with the Party of Violence, not only resented this impertinent
interference with their affairs, but haughtily returned the despatch to
the English Foreign Office. Lord Palmerston replied sarcastically to
Sotomayor, and not only approved of the conduct of Sir Henry Bulwer, but
caused him to be made a K.C.B. Accordingly, on the 19th of May, the
Spanish Government requested Sir Henry to leave Spain within forty-eight
hours, which he did, and a cessation of diplomatic intercourse was the
result. Lord John Russell, the Prime Minister, had seen Lord
Palmerston’s ill-advised despatch,
[Illustration: THE FOUNTAIN OF CYBELE, MADRID.]
and having told Lord Palmerston that he objected to it, he naturally
concluded it would not be sent. “Shortly after,” writes Mr.
Greville,[108] “he (Lord John Russell) was with the Queen, and, in
conversation on this topic, he told her what had passed between
Palmerston and himself, and what he had said. ‘No! _did_ you say that?’
said the Queen. He said, ‘Yes.’ ‘Well, then,’ she replied, ‘it produced
no effect, for the despatch _is_ gone. Lord Palmerston sent it to me. I
_know_ it is gone.’”
There was quite a storm of indignation against Lord Palmerston in every
political club and _coterie_ when this affair became known. The Queen
was angry, and so were Palmerston’s colleagues, some of whom declared
that they could not defend his conduct. He was attacked by the
Opposition in both Houses; and Lord Lansdowne, who had to plead for him
in the Lords, told Lord John Russell that “this must never happen
again,” and that in future Lord Palmerston must not be allowed to send
out any despatches unless they
[Illustration: BARON STOCKMAR.
(_Engraved, by permission, after the Portrait in Sir Theodore Martin’s
“Life of the Prince Consort.”_)]
were sanctioned by Lord John himself.[109] It was morally certain that
Sir H. Bulwer had, at Lord Palmerston’s instigation, mixed himself up
with the intrigues of the revolutionary party in Madrid, and on the 5th
of June Mr. Bankes gave expression to the true feeling of every section
of the House of Commons, by moving a Vote of Censure on Lord Palmerston.
Whigs, Tories, and Radicals were agreed that his conduct had been
imprudent and discourteous. The Queen expressed to Lord John Russell her
grief over his rude and untoward management of diplomatic business. His
colleagues condemned him in private, and yet the attack on him
mysteriously collapsed. The debate, says Mr. Greville, cynically, was a
fight “with muffled gloves,” and why? Palmerston, for whom the stars in
their courses fought, was saved by two strokes of luck. Sir Robert Peel,
whose defence of him was a piece of exquisite irony, decided that as the
Ministry refused to desert him he must be supported, Peel’s sole object
at this time being to protect the only Ministerial combination which
could protect Free Trade. The Spanish Government had also put themselves
in the wrong in ordering Sir Henry Bulwer to quit Madrid, merely because
Lord Palmerston sent them, through him, an insolent and foolish
despatch. Members who were prepared to vote for Mr. Bankes’s motion felt
that unless it were proved clearly that Sir Henry Bulwer had
participated in revolutionary conspiracies, they must vote for the
Government, on the score of national honour. The Spanish Ministry failed
to prove this, because they dared not set forth their case. One of Sir
Henry Bulwer’s instruments in driving the Narvaez Government from office
was Serrano, who from corrupt motives revealed the conspiracy to
Narvaez. But Serrano was the lover of the Queen of Spain, and had his
evidence been adduced against Lord Palmerston, her Majesty would have
been unpleasantly compromised. The debate on Mr. Bankes’s motion was
thus a Parliamentary victory for Lord Palmerston. But it served to
augment the distrust with which the Queen and his own colleagues
regarded his harum-scarum method of conducting the business of the
Foreign Office.
Parliament, which had been adjourned over the Christmas holidays, again
met on the 3rd of February, 1848. Meeting as it did on the eve of a
revolution in Europe, and at a time when the masses of the English
people were in a ferment of discontent, one might suppose that it was
greatly agitated by the tempest of sedition that raged outside its
walls. On the contrary, it pursued its course with almost stoical
indifference to “the condition-of-England question,” and neither the
sullen temper of the English working classes, nor the impending revolt
of the “Young Ireland” Party, seems to have given the representatives of
the people the slightest concern. In fact, the West Indies now took the
place of Ireland and the manufacturing districts of England, as a scene
of distress worthy of monopolising the attention of Parliament. What Mr.
Disraeli said of similar events in 1834 might well have been said of
those of 1848, namely, that “the mean position which the Saxon multitude
occupied as distinguished from the Jamaica planters sank deep into their
hearts.” Again the attention of the working classes was drawn to the
contrast between the interest which Parliament displayed in “a petty and
exhausted colony” and “the claims for constitutional rights by the
working millions of England.”[110] Oddly enough, it was Mr. Disraeli’s
own leader, Lord George Bentinck, who, finding that the planters
attributed their sufferings to the loss of the protection which
differential duties on foreign sugar had given them in the English
market, took up their case at this inopportune moment with more warmth
than prudence. He moved for and obtained the appointment of a Committee
to inquire into their grievances. In June the Chancellor of the
Exchequer, Sir Charles Wood, brought forward a proposal to advance
£200,000--ultimately the sum was fixed at £170,000--for the purpose of
helping planters to get coolie labour. Lord John Russell subsequently
announced further concessions. He refused to exclude slave-grown sugar
from the English market. He, however, proposed to reduce the duty on
colonial sugar, leaving ordinary foreign sugar at its existing rate. But
he applied to both colonial sugar and certain varieties of foreign sugar
a descending scale of reduction, which would in 1855 end in equalising
them, though up to that period a slight advantage would be given to the
colonial sugar. The philanthropists attacked the scheme because they
demanded the total exclusion of slave-grown sugars. Some Free Traders
like Mr. Hume attacked it, because they thought the true remedy lay in
letting the colonists have more freedom in importing labour, and in
managing their own affairs. A painful scene took place during these
debates between Lord George Bentinck and Lord John Russell. Lord George
declared in violent language that Mr. Hawes, Under-Secretary for the
Colonies, had suppressed a despatch which threw light on colonial
distress. Lord John Russell jeered at his antagonist’s connection with
the turf, where alone, he said, such tricks were common. Mr. Disraeli
retorted by saying that for his services in detecting a turf fraud Lord
George Bentinck had been thanked by a Committee, the chairman of which
was the Duke of Bedford, Lord John Russell’s brother. During this
wrangling the House of Commons was converted into a bear-garden, and
members roared and hooted at each other as if they were maniacs. The
Government carried their proposal only by a majority of fifteen, and
this, together with loss of prestige from bad management and clumsy
Parliamentary tactics, further weakened the Cabinet in the eyes of the
public. Even the Queen began to think she might soon have to send for
Lord Stanley, for it was only Sir Robert Peel’s support that kept the
Administration alive.
The financial statement of the Government, which was made, not by the
Chancellor of the Exchequer (Sir C. Wood), but by Lord John Russell
himself, early in the year, had been disappointing. He estimated a
deficit of £2,141,209, and he said it must be met either by increasing
taxation, or reducing the cost of the Army and Navy. But the agitation
which had been raised by the Duke of Wellington about the defenceless
state of the country drove the Ministry to increase the military and
naval estimate by £358,000, in addition to which Lord John Russell
decided to take a Militia vote of £150,000. He proposed, therefore, to
continue the Income Tax, which was to expire in April, 1849, for five
years, raising it from 7d. to 1s. in the pound. The duties on copper
ore, equal to £41,000, were to be remitted, which would leave a surplus
of £113,000 on the Estimates. Never did a Budget raise such a storm of
opposition. Were Ministers mad, asked Mr. Hume, that they proposed to
increase taxation daring a time of commercial distress and seething
political discontent? He and Mr. Cobden demanded, like all the Radicals,
a reduction of armaments to meet the estimated deficit on the Budget.
All the Protectionists, of course, fell upon the Ministry, crying,
“Behold the fatal results of Free Trade!” and demanding the substitution
of indirect taxation, or import duties, instead of an increased Income
Tax--a tax which, said they, they would never have permitted Sir Robert
Peel to impose, had it had not been understood that it was to be only a
temporary one. Sir Charles Wood in a few days offered to refer the
Estimates to Select and Secret Committees, a proposition violently
attacked, as tending to relieve Ministers of their constitutional
responsibility, and permit Committees of the House to encroach on the
true functions of the Executive. Then the country rose as one man
against the Budget, and members were threatened with the loss of their
seats if they voted for an increased Income Tax. On the 28th of February
Sir Charles Wood accordingly brought in an amended Budget. He would
continue the existing Income Tax for five, or, if the House decided, for
three years; but for two years, to meet a deficit which he thought was
temporary, he proposed to add 5 per cent. to it. This still further
irritated the country, whose ideas on taxation the Government utterly
ignored. The working classes scoffed at the House which fretted over the
addition of sevenpence in the pound on the tax on their incomes, when
_they_ paid twice as many shillings in the pound on the great staples of
their consumption. The middle classes complained that Ministers paid no
heed to their demand that a distinction be made between permanent and
precarious incomes, and for the adjustment of the tax to the means and
substance of the taxpayer.
Meantime the Select Committee on the Estimates were reducing them. On
the 25th of August Sir C. Wood stated to the House that the Committee
had so adjusted revenue and expenditure that there would only be a
deficit of £292,305 to meet. To that he had to add the extraordinary
expenditure of the year, incurred on account of the Caffre War, together
with sums for relieving fresh distress in Ireland, which brought the
total deficit to be met to £2,031,226. This sum the Government proposed
to borrow in the open market. After some protests from the Radicals
against increasing the floating debt in time of peace, and against the
refusal of the Government to reduce establishments, the Ministry carried
their point. But the Cobdenites taunted them with Sir Robert Peel’s
remark, that he would not attempt to govern the country unless he could
equalise its expenditure and its revenue.
Parliament in 1848 was tolerably free from discussions on the
interminable Irish question. But Mr. Smith O’Brien, the leader of the
Irish Party of Action, was in earnest, and his followers were full of
enthusiasm for Irish nationality. Lord Clarendon had attempted to
conciliate the priesthood, but he had failed; and the Executive in
Dublin sought for increased power to maintain order in Ireland. Hence a
Bill aimed at seditious clubs was brought forward by the Government. It
empowered the Lord-Lieutenant to arrest and detain any person whom he
suspected of conspiring against the
[Illustration: SIR GEORGE GREY.]
Queen’s Government--in other words, it was proposed to suspend the
Habeas Corpus Act.[111] The Bill passed rapidly through all its stages,
even Radicals like Mr. Hume voting for it, reluctantly, as a hateful
incident in our Irish policy. They, however, warned the Ministry that
they must lose no time in bringing in remedial measures, dealing with
the Franchise, the Church, the Grand Jury laws, and Municipal
Institutions in Ireland. On the 26th of July the Bill was passed through
the Upper House. A few days afterwards Mr. Sharman Crawford, previous to
the House of Commons going into Committee of Supply, moved that the
distracted condition of Ireland demanded the constant attention of
Parliament, and said that if he carried his motion he would follow it up
with one which Lord John Russell had moved in 1844, referring the
subject of Irish grievances to a Select Committee. He complained of the
delays in remedial legislation; but Lord John Russell, though
conciliatory, opposed the motion on the plea that it would be better to
proceed gradually with the work of reform in Ireland, than to burden the
House with the impossible task Mr. Crawford would impose on it. It was
in this debate that Mr. Bernal Osborne complained that Ireland was
governed, like a Crown Colony, with “a mock Sovereign, a Brummagen
Court, and a pinchbeck Executive,” and recommended the abolition of the
Viceroyalty, the government of Ireland by a fourth Secretary of State,
occasional sessions of the British Parliament in Dublin, and an annual
visit of the Queen and Court to her Irish dominions. Sir George Grey,
the Home Secretary, also suggested that the Government would not be
averse from modifying the position of the Established Church in Ireland,
and there seemed to be in the minds of Ministers a disposition to seek,
in a scheme of “concurrent endowment,” a solution of the Irish problem.
Mr. Crawford’s motion was rejected by a vote of 100 to 24.
On the 24th of February the Lord Chancellor introduced the Irish
Encumbered Estates Act. The measure provided for the swift and easy sale
and transfer--voluntary or compulsory under an order of the Court of
Chancery--of estates whose owners could not pay off their mortgages and
had no capital to improve them. The mistake lay in selling along with
the estates, which were the landlords’, the improvements which, as a
rule, were made by the tenants, and which in equity, and by the custom
of land tenure in Ireland, belonged to the latter. The measure was
therefore pregnant with evils which had to be dealt with subsequently by
the Land Acts with which Mr. Gladstone’s name will be permanently
associated.
What was the effect of the Chartist rising on Parliament? It bulks but
slightly in the proceedings of the Legislature. On the 10th of April Mr.
Feargus O’Connor presented to the House of Commons a petition signed by
5,706,000 persons in favour of the “six points of the Charter”--namely,
Vote by Ballot, Annual Parliaments, Manhood Suffrage, Equal Electoral
Districts, Abolition of Property Qualification for Members of
Parliament, and Payment of Members. He moved that it be read by the
clerk. The first sheet was taken up and the prayer read, whereupon the
messengers of the House gathered up the five great masses of parchment
of which the petition consisted, and rolled it to the table. On the 13th
Mr. Thornley, on behalf of the Select Committee on Petitions, reported
that the Chartist petition weighed not five tons, as was alleged, but 5¾
cwts., and that it contained only 1,975,496 signatures, and not
5,706,000, as Mr. O’Connor had stated. Among these appeared the names of
the Queen as “Victoria Rex,” the Duke of Wellington, K.G., Sir Robert
Peel, and names that were no names, such as “No Cheese,” “Pugnose,”
“Flatnose,” and the like, so that doubts as to the authenticity of the
document might be fairly raised. Mr. O’Connor and Mr. Cripps exchanged
pungent personalities over this discovery, and when Mr. O’Connor left
the House, the Speaker, fearing a duel might be the result of the
quarrel, induced Mr. Cripps to withdraw his imputations on Mr.
O’Connor’s honesty. Lord John Russell then moved that Mr. O’Connor be
arrested by the Sergeant-at-Arms. The offender, on being brought to the
bar, gave explanations which brought the scene to an end.
On the 7th of April Sir George Grey brought in the Crown Government
Security Bill, which was a device of Lord Campbell’s for reducing the
offences created by the Act of 1796 from treason to felony, and for
extending it to Ireland, where, as the law then stood, it was impossible
to punish a revolutionary movement, except by treating it as treason or
misdemeanour. This gave a deathblow to the odious statutory crime termed
“constructive treason,” substituting, as Lord Campbell says in his
Journal, a plain, easy, popular method “by which _incipient_ traitors
may be prosecuted as _felons_, and transported beyond the seas.” In one
of the debates on this Bill, Mr. Smith O’Brien, while professing his
loyalty to the Queen, declared he was not loyal to the Government or to
the Imperial Parliament, and would do what he could to overthrow the one
and dissever the other. He lashed the House into fury by his references
to his intrigues with the leaders of the French Revolution, and by
menacing England with the hostility of the Republics of France and
America. Campbell’s Bill may be described as one to degrade “the
spouters of state sedition,” as Mr. Disraeli once called them, to the
level of vulgar criminals in the eyes of the people. A Bill enabling the
Home Secretary on his responsibility to compel the departure of aliens
visiting the country not from the usual motives of business and pleasure
was denounced by the Radicals, led by Sir W. Molesworth, as “analogous
in principle to the famous law of Suspected Persons of the 17th of
September, 1793, one of the most accursed laws of the Reign of Terror.”
Lord John Russell was taunted with having opposed a similar provision
which disfigured the Aliens Act in his maiden speech in 1814, and Mr.
David Urquhart amused the House by quoting Leviticus xxiv. 22 and
Numbers ix. 14 against the proposal. It was, however, carried in both
Houses.
It was felt at this time that the House of Commons was not equal to the
task of social legislation. A large Party, under the leadership of Mr.
Joseph Hume, contended that the duty of Parliament to the people did
not begin and end with the passing of repressive laws in a revolutionary
crisis. But as the House was then constituted, they felt that little
else could be expected from it, and they accordingly urged that it be
made effective by being reformed. To bring the popular chamber into
closer touch with the people, Mr. Hume and other Radical Reformers
argued that the franchise must be extended. Hence arose his Resolution
of the 20th of June, to the effect that the House of Commons did not
fairly represent the people, and his proposal for (1) household
franchise; (2) vote by ballot; (3) triennial Parliaments; (4) equal
apportionment of Members to population. This motion marks the beginning
of the great Reform movement which culminated in the Reform Bill of the
Derby-Disraeli Government in 1867, and of Mr. Gladstone’s Government in
1885. Lord John Russell opposed the Resolution, though he abandoned the
doctrine with which he was credited, namely, that the Bill of 1832 was
final, and he admitted that it had worked badly, by enforcing too great
uniformity of qualification. Mr. Disraeli opposed every one of Mr.
Hume’s proposals, except that for triennial Parliaments. Mr. Sidney
Herbert, on behalf of the Peelites, also opposed Mr. Hume, who was
supported solely by Mr. Cobden, the Radicals, and the “Manchester
School.” The Resolution was rejected by a vote of 351 to 84.
[Illustration: FROM AN ETCHING BY THE QUEEN.]
[Illustration: THE SOUTH-EAST CORRIDOR, WINDSOR CASTLE.
(_After a Photograph by Messrs. G. W. Wilson and Co._)]
CHAPTER XIX.
AT WORK AND PLAY.
The Queen’s Administrative Work--The “Condition of England”
Question--The Court and the Working Classes--Royal Plans for
Ameliorating the Lot of Labour--Threatened Attacks on the
Queen--The Demagogues Abashed--A Royal-Hearted Speech--The Queen’s
Private Correspondence--A Pension Fund for the Working
Classes--Pauperism among Domestic Servants--Prince Albert’s Relief
Plan--The Court at Osborne--Birth and Christening of the Princess
Louise--Removal to Balmoral--The Queen at Kirk--A Royal
Geologist--Sir Charles Lyell’s Anecdotes of the Royal Family--An
Accident in the Solent--Prince Albert as a University
Reformer--Death of Lord Melbourne and Lord George Bentinck.
To the Queen and the Prince Consort the year of the Revolution brought
many domestic anxieties which the Court newsman of the day could not
chronicle. We have seen, from some expressions in her Majesty’s own
letters, how sharply her heart was touched by the misfortunes of her
French friends and her German kinsfolk. But the public business
connected with the distressing and alarming state of affairs abroad
condemned both the Queen and her husband to the severest toil.
Twenty-eight thousand despatches were received by or sent out from the
Foreign Office during 1848, and most of these had to be studied closely,
and annotated and advised on either by her Majesty or Prince Albert.
Lord Palmerston’s irrepressible restlessness and boyish imprudence kept
the Queen in a state of feverish anxiety, for she never knew when some
fresh freak of the Foreign Secretary might not make her appear
ridiculous to Continental Courts.
Moreover, it occurred to the Royal pair that the troubles at home might
perchance be smoothed if the influence of the Crown were judiciously and
delicately applied to promote a peaceful solution of many alarming
social problems. Mr. Carlyle was then thundering forth anathemas against
the governing orders of England for neglecting what he called “the
Condition of England Question,” and accusing them of abdicating their
natural position as leaders and guides of the people. Had he suspected
what was going on in the Royal circle, he would have known that this
charge did not at all events lie against the highest of all the
governing orders in the State. The “Condition of England Question,” in
fact, had now become a subject of engrossing interest to the Queen and
her consort.
Prince Albert’s letters to Baron Stockmar indicate that he
over-estimated the power and significance of the Chartist organisation.
But they show that he did not under-estimate the disastrous effect of
popular discontent on the commerce and industry of the nation. Her
Majesty and the Prince seemed to have arrived at a very clear idea as to
how far they could either of them affect the crisis. Personally, the
Sovereign at such a time could not with propriety mingle in the social
warfare waged between rich and poor. But much might be done through
Prince Albert to show that the Crown was not unmindful of the claims of
Labour, and to indicate that her Majesty bated not one jot or tittle of
her sympathy for that class of our community, which, as Prince Albert
pithily said, in a speech he delivered on the 18th of May, “has most of
the toil, and least of the enjoyments, of life.”
As far back as 1844 he had become President of a Society for the
Improvement of the Condition of the Working Classes. This apparently was
an organisation somewhat of the dilettante type, but it now occurred to
the practical mind of the Prince that it might be turned at such a
crisis to a useful purpose. He seized the opportunity afforded by an
invitation to preside at one of its public meetings, for carrying out
the cherished design of the Court, and it is curious to note that when
this intention was bruited about, the strongest objections were made to
it. Violent demagogues, he was told, would attend and say rude things
about the Sovereign. Lord John Russell sent him a copy of a book
containing a ribald attack on the Royal Family; and it is not pleasing
to recollect that if the Court had permitted itself to be overruled by
the Government, this golden chance of conciliating contending classes
would have been lost at a critical moment in the history of the English
people. But neither the Queen nor the Prince was to be daunted. These
attacks, they said, merely convinced them all the more that the time had
come when they should put themselves in touch with the great interests
of Labour, and show that the Royal Family was not, as was alleged,
living on the earnings of a people, for whose sufferings it had no
sympathy, and to whose welfare it was indifferent. What the Prince
called “a tangible proof” of the desire of the Queen and her family to
co-operate in any scheme for lightening and brightening the lot of her
poorer subjects was needed, and he meant to give that proof.
A sour critic would perhaps say that in analysing the Royal ideas on the
“Condition of England” Question a good deal of State Socialism lurked in
them. They suggest undoubtedly the influence of many German writers on
State Socialism; but Prince Albert, so far as he was the exponent of her
Majesty’s thoughts, seems to have been careful to burn much incense on
the altar of Voluntaryism, before which all the prominent economic
writers of the day bowed down. If he roused their suspicions by denying
that the people should be let alone, and left to help themselves in what
Mr. Carlyle calls “the desolate freedom of the wild ass,” he deferred to
their prejudices by proposing that the help and guidance which they
needed should come not from Government, but from voluntary combinations
of individuals. It is possible that he might have gone farther if he had
dared. As it was, the position of the Court in relation to the social
question at this time seems to have been midway between that of the
younger school of sociologists in our day, and the almost defunct school
whose principle and shibboleth were _laissez faire_.
According to the Prince’s speech at the meeting of the Association for
Improving the Condition of the Working Classes, on the 18th of May, two
objects should be kept in view. Firstly, Society, through individual and
associated effort, should show what _can_ be done by model
lodging-houses, improved dwellings, loan funds, allotments, and the
like, to ameliorate the lot of the poor. Secondly, the poor must be
taught that all the work of amelioration cannot be done by
Society--that, in fact, they must, by their cultivation of the homely
virtues of thrift, honesty, diligence, and self-denial, help themselves
into the condition in which it is possible for others, either by
individual or associated effort, to help them. He implored the country
to think more of the identity than the rivalry of class interests, and
contended that it was the imperative duty of the rich, each one in his
sphere, “to show how man can help man, notwithstanding the complicated
state of Society.” Self-reliance in the individual, and confidence
between individuals--these were the moral forces which Prince Albert
seems to have thought it was the mission of all good citizens to evoke.
It has been hinted that such utterances are mere platitudes, and hardly
worth recording. As David Hume observed, the truths that are prized as
discoveries by a few philosophers in one generation become the
commonplaces of their grandchildren. Had the ideas of the Queen and her
husband on the Social Problem been platitudes among statesmen in 1848,
Revolution would not have fallen on Europe like “a bolt out of the
blue,” nor would the panic-stricken kings and princes of the Continent
have been flying, as Mr. Carlyle put it, “like a gang of coiners when
the police had come among them.”[112] Nothing could be more gratifying
to the Queen than the universal approval that greeted this address. It
struck the true note of sympathy with Labour that should ever ring
through “the sad, sweet music of Humanity.” Her Majesty said, in a
letter to Stockmar, “the Prince made a speech on Thursday which has met
with more general admiration from all classes and parties than any I can
remember;” and it
[Illustration: THOMAS CARLYLE. (_After the Medallion by T. Woolner_,
1855.)]
is in truth impossible to give a juster idea of the effect which it
produced all over the English-speaking world.
It is curious to observe that all through the Queen’s correspondence
during the most alarming year of her reign, there is expressed a feeling
of proud confidence in the stability of the British Monarchy, and an
abiding certitude that under her rule no effort will be spared to
minimise the sufferings or better the lot of the poor. Bolingbroke’s
“patriot King” could not have more completely identified Sovereignty
with national life and national yearning. That the Revolution had no
perceptible effect on England, one can now see was mainly due to the
fact that alike in the repeal of the Corn Laws, and in the encouragement
of schemes for social improvement, the Monarchy
[Illustration: CHRISTENING OF THE PRINCESS LOUISE IN BUCKINGHAM PALACE
CHAPEL.]
became almost guilty of partisanship in espousing the popular cause. The
air was indeed full of such schemes, and it is hardly a breach of
confidence now to say that but for the risk of incurring the reproach of
infecting England with German ideas, the Court would have marched in
advance of its advisers. It was generally believed at this time that the
Queen and Prince Albert were first struck with the inadequacy of the
provision made in England to mitigate the painful chancefulness of life
among the artisan classes. It has been, in fact, supposed that it was in
a special sense for her Majesty’s perusal that the late Dr. Farr then
investigated the problem, from a point of view which was as essentially
German as it was antagonistic to the ideas of the English _laissez
faire_ school. Our Poor Law, Dr. Farr argued, is really a great scheme
for insuring every man’s life against the risk of starvation. In those
days to die from starvation was an accident in England. In the countries
which were swept by the Revolution, however, to be succoured from death
by starvation was the accident. The Poor Law had, therefore, with other
influences, saved Society in England. Whether, in these circumstances,
it might not be well to develop the beneficent idea underlying it, was a
question often thoughtfully pondered in the Royal Family.
For this reason it may not be amiss to call attention to what Dr. Farr
laid down for the guidance of those who at this anxious time had the
destinies of the people in their hands. He pointed out that “Society
without a legal system of relief for destitution can be scarcely said to
exist, as it leaves the protection of life against the most imminent
calamity unprovided for.”[113] Insecurity of life among the masses, he
contended, naturally weakens their instinctive conservatism. It drives
them into communism and anarchy, which are the rank and unwholesome
outgrowths of a state in which Property is too selfish to appropriate a
small portion of its profits as a life insurance premium for Labour--and
where the State has not yet discovered that the insurance of the life of
all is the insurance of the property of all. The Poor Law to a certain
extent made this appropriation. But the objection to it was its
cast-iron administration; its indiscriminating application to the good
and the bad, the industrious and the idle, the worthy and the worthless.
Was it not, then, possible to make Poor Law Relief bear some proportion
to the ratepayer’s previous contributions to the Insurance fund against
destitution? Could not the whole country be converted into a gigantic
Friendly Society, of which the rich should be, so to speak, honorary
members, but capable without the least shame or humiliation of becoming
benefiting members, should sudden misfortune hurl them from the heights
of opulence to the depths of destitution? Many philanthropic firms of
employers co-operated at this time with their workmen in founding
benefit societies for the purpose of insurance against sickness or
accident. Why, it was asked, could they not develop this idea, and
insure their workpeople against the consequences of that infirmity
which is the result of old age? In other words, could not the Friendly
Society be also made a Pension Club? The practical difficulty obviously
lay in the complicated account-keeping which was necessary for the
success of such schemes, and which private firms could hardly be
expected to undertake. It was, however, shown by Dr. Farr, in the letter
which has been quoted, and which is one of the most curious and
characteristic products of a time of social turmoil, that the Government
could alone with advantage receive small deposits of money in the early
life of a generation, invest them at compound interest, and pay the
accumulated amounts at short intervals to the aged and infirm survivors.
Each establishment might, according to Dr. Farr’s idea, organise three
insurance funds--a Pension Fund, a Health Fund, and a Life Fund--the
premiums to be paid to the Government, who should conduct the whole
business for the parties interested on fair and easy terms.
It is curious that though the Chartists and a large number of the
Tories--notably the remnants of the “Young England” Party, led by Mr.
Disraeli and Lord John Manners--sympathised with these ideas, they were
coldly frowned down by the Whigs and the Manchester School of Radicals.
The argument against the social reformers was that employers did enough
for their “hands” when they bought their labour and paid for it in the
open market. It was for the workpeople to spend their money as they
pleased--if in insurance against sickness and old age, so much the
better; if not, so much the worse. But even in the last case no real
harm, it was urged, could come to them, for there was always “the
parish” to fall back upon. In a word, Capital argued that it did enough
for Labour when it paid wages and poor rates. On the other hand, it
might be retorted, that by helping on schemes for promoting the
permanent comfort of his workpeople the employer is only paying wages in
the way which pays all parties best in the long-run. Such an employer,
it might be said, gets the strongest command of the labour market, and
the best and most efficient service from his men. His prestige becomes
lustrous like that of a general who refuses to desert his wounded on the
field where he wins his victorious laurels, or of a conquering king who
refuses to let the veterans perish, whose valour has widened the range
of his dominion. Often did the Queen and Prince Albert ponder these
things in their hearts. Hence their eagerness to seize every
opportunity, not of pressing schemes such as these on a Society whose
economic prejudices were antipathetic to them, but for stimulating the
upper and middle classes in such voluntary movements for ameliorating
the lot of Labour, as were possible and practicable in these “bad old
times.” It was in this spirit that they even studied the barren
statistics of Pauperism, and that their discovery, in 1849, of the fact
that the great majority of the poor people in London workhouses had been
domestic servants, prompted Prince Albert to stimulate the Servants’
Provident and Benevolent Society to find a remedy for such a
distressing state of things. “The appalling pauperism of this class,” as
the Prince described it in a memorable speech, he strove to arrest by
inducing servants to invest their savings under the Deferred Annuities
Act, through the agency of the Society.[114]
On the 18th of March the Princess Louise was born, and on the 13th of
May she was baptised in the private chapel of Buckingham Palace, being
[Illustration: VIEW IN LOCHNAGAR.]
named after Prince Albert’s mother and the Queen of the Belgians. The
Prince himself adapted the music of a chorale he had composed for the
Baptismal Service. “The Royal christening,” writes Bishop Wilberforce to
Miss Noel, “was a very beautiful sight in its highest sense of that word
beauty; the Queen, with the five Royal children around her, the Prince
of Wales and Princess Royal hand-in-hand, all kneeling down quietly and
meekly at every prayer, and the little Princess Helena alone _just_
standing and looking round with the blue eyes of gazing innocence.” This
was the little Princess a peep at whom, Lady Lyttelton says, always
cheered her, for she was then “an image of life”--it is to be presumed
Lady Lyttelton means child-life--in its prime, with “cheeks like
full-blown roses, and her nose like a bud.” This month of May was
ostensibly a merry one at Court, though from the correspondence that
passed between the Queen and her half-sister, it is quite evident that
her Majesty went through the festal pageant of Court balls and Royal
birthday fêtes with her heart heavy from the anxieties of the times.
In July the Royal circle was broken up by the departure of Prince
[Illustration: PROFESSOR ANDERSON AT BALMORAL.]
Albert to open the great Agricultural Show at York, where his speech,
identifying himself closely with the farming interest, gave the country
gentry and husbandmen of England the keenest delight. The Queen again
wrote to Stockmar and the King of the Belgians, expressing her personal
satisfaction with the Prince’s speeches at York, and her pleasure at
seeing him develop high gifts of oratory. The rest of the summer her
Majesty and her family spent at Osborne--a little anxious on account of
the feeble health of Prince Alfred (Duke of Edinburgh), whose removal to
the keen mountain air of the Highlands had been strongly pressed on them
by Sir James Clark. Her Majesty then came to town on the 5th of
September to prorogue Parliament. The present House of Lords was on that
occasion used for the first time, and this fact, together with the
interest excited by the appearance before her Senate of almost the only
great European Sovereign who at this time dared appear in public, caused
enormous crowds to assemble. The Queen was received by the mob who lined
the route from Buckingham Palace to Westminster in a delirium of
enthusiastic loyalty, and that she felt grateful for their greeting was
evident from the emotion with which she delivered those passages of her
Address, in which she referred to the mutual affection and trust that
linked Queen and country together in England.
No sooner had this function been discharged than the Royal Family made
haste to proceed to the Aberdeenshire Highlands, where, on the
recommendation of Sir James Clark, Prince Albert had leased the Balmoral
estate from the Earl of Aberdeen. Mountain air, at once dry and keen,
was, in Clark’s opinion, essential for the health of the Royal Family,
and Balmoral was the driest place in Deeside. Nobody has described this
romantic retreat better than the Queen herself. From the hill above the
house the view, she says, is charming. “To the left you look to the
beautiful hills surrounding Lochnagar, and to the right towards
Ballater, to the glen or valley along which the Dee winds, with
beautiful wooded hills, which reminded us very much of the Thuringian
Forest. It was so calm and so solitary, it did one good as one gazed
around, and the pure mountain air was most refreshing. All seemed to
breathe freedom and peace, and to make one forget the world and its sad
turmoils. The scenery is wild and yet not desolate; and everything looks
much more prosperous and cultivated than at Laggan.”[115]
The journey northward was made by sea to Aberdeen, and from thence to
Balmoral her Majesty met at every stage of the road with the warmest of
Highland welcomes. Balmoral has changed much since those days, when it
was the loveliest of mountain solitudes. The little whitewashed castle,
with its pepper-box turrets, reminded one of the feats of those old
Scottish architects who flourished at the period when the baronial wars
had ceased, but when the builders had not learnt to adapt their art to
peaceful or domestic purposes. It was not till after the fee-simple of
the property was bought by the Prince in 1852, that it became
transformed and transfigured by “improvements.” The Queen devoted
herself to holiday-making after the free and informal fashion that made
desolate Ardverikie a terrestrial Paradise. Her winning ways charmed the
cottagers and the peasantry, to whom she soon became a veritable Lady
Bountiful. As for Prince Albert, sport lightened the anxieties of
politics. The vast panorama of mountain, glen, and forest which unfolds
itself from the summit of dark Lochnagar invited him to resume the
geological studies which in his youth he had pursued with ardour, and
the greatest modern master of the science, Mr. (afterwards Sir Charles)
Lyell,[116] was his guest and guide. A pleasing and graphic sketch is
given by Sir Charles Lyell of the Royal Family in their Highland home.
“At Balmoral, the day I went to dine there,” he writes, “Saturday last,
I had first a long walk--Sir James Clark and I--with Mr. Birch and his
pupil,[117] a pleasing, lively boy, whose animated description of the
Conjurer, or ‘Wizard of the North,’[118] whom they had seen a few days
before, was very amusing. ‘He (the Wizard) had cut to pieces mamma’s
pocket-handkerchief, then darned it and ironed it, so that it was as
entire as ever; he had fired a pistol and caused five or six watches to
go through Gibb’s (one of their footmen) head, and all were tied to a
chair on Gibb’s other side,’ and so forth; ‘but papa (Prince Albert)
knows how all these things are done, and had the watches really gone
through Gibb’s head he would hardly have looked so well, though he was
confounded.’ Sometimes I walked alone with the child, who asked me the
names of plants, and to let him see spiders, &c., through my
magnifying-glass; sometimes with the tutor, whom I continue to like the
more as I become better acquainted. After our ramble of two hours and a
half through some wild scenery, I was sent for to join another party;
where I found the Queen, Prince, and Lord John by a deep pool on the
river Dee, fishing for trout and salmon. After the Queen had entered the
Castle the Prince kept me so long, and we kept one another so late,
talking on all kinds of subjects, that a messenger came from her
Majesty, saying it was only a quarter of an hour to dinner-time. After
the ladies had gone to the drawing-room we had much lively talk, which
the Prince promoted greatly, telling some amusing stories himself, and
encouraging others by laughing at theirs. Next day I went to church. The
prayer for the parish magistracy, Queen, and Royal Family, judges,
ministers of religion, Parliament, and the whole nation, was just such
as you would have liked, and in excellent taste, with nothing which a
Republican, jealous of equality, could, I think, have objected to, and
which, I believe, our Sovereign and her husband could thoroughly
appreciate the simplicity of. They shoved the box,[119] on the end of a
long pole, to the Queen and Prince, and maids of honour, as to all the
rest of the congregation, and each dropped in their piece of coin. After
church I had much conversation alone with Prince Albert, whose mind is
in full activity on a variety of grave subjects, while he is
invigorating his body with field sports.” Lyell, who was a very
observant man, and an astute judge of character, conceived a very high
opinion of the Prince from his conversations with him. After his death,
according to Sir Theodore Martin, he wrote a long letter to Mr. John
Murray, criticising the Prince’s abilities, and expressing his hope that
justice would be done to him in an _éloge_ in the _Quarterly_.
On the 28th of October the Queen and her retinue left Balmoral for
Osborne. On the 9th they left Osborne for London, and when crossing the
Solent they saw a boat full of women who had relatives on board the
_Grampus_ frigate, then coming into Portsmouth after a cruise in the
Pacific, capsized in a squall. Prince Albert gave the alarm, and the
Queen writes:--“I rushed out of the pavilion, and saw a man sitting on
something which proved to be the keel of a boat. The next moment Albert
called out in a horrified voice, ‘Oh, dear, there are more!’ which quite
overcame me.” Her Majesty stopped her yacht at once. A boat was lowered,
and three women--one still alive--were
[Illustration: THE OLD BRIDGE, INVERCAULD.]
rescued. But the sea ran so heavily that Lord Adolphus Fitzclarence
refused to let the yacht lie to any longer, and the Queen had to yield
to his determination to proceed without waiting for the return of the
boat. “It was,” she writes, “a dreadful moment too horrible to
describe.... It is a terrible thing, and haunts me continually.”
One more triumph over insular prejudice won by the Court during the year
of Revolution remains to be recorded. Prince Albert, very soon after his
election as Chancellor of the University of Cambridge, alarmed the
Colleges by indicating that he had no intention of being merely an
ornamental official. His first demand to be supplied with a sketch of
the plan of academic study at Cambridge was ominous of interference. At
Cambridge everything was at this time sacrificed to mathematical
studies, and an idea of the state of mind in which University reformers
approached the Prince with suggestions may be found in Dr. Whewell’s
liberal proposal, that a century should pass before new discoveries
could be admitted into the academic curriculum. Nominally philosophy,
literature, and science were included in that curriculum, as the
[Illustration: THE VICTORIA TOWER, WESTMINSTER PALACE.]
table of studies prepared by Dr. Philpott for the Prince showed. But
there was no denying the truth of his Royal Highness’s trenchant
criticism on this document in his letter to Lord John Russell, in which
he said that all the activity in these departments was “on paper,” and
even if it had been real, the scheme was incomplete. After a long and
laborious correspondence with the best authorities on the subject, the
Prince succeeded in persuading the University to thoroughly modernise
its course of instruction, and his revised plan of studies was
triumphantly carried on the 1st of November, 1848. As _Punch_ in a
clever cartoon put it, H.R.H. Field-Marshal Chancellor Prince Albert
took the _pons asinorum_ after the manner of Napoleon at Arcola.
As winter drew on, the state of Ireland became increasingly distressful,
and the confusion on the Continent more and more ominous. In England
some faint signs of reviving trade were discernible, but only just
discernible. The death of Lord Melbourne, however, on the 24th of
November, painfully affected the Queen, whose affection for her first
guide in statecraft had never abated. “Truly and sincerely,” she writes
in her Diary, “do I deplore the loss of one who was a most kind and
disinterested friend of mine, and most sincerely attached to me. He was
indeed for the first two years and a half of my reign almost the only
friend I had, except Stockmar and Lehzen.” Her last letter to the aged
Minister, expressed in terms of simple but touching solicitude,
according to his sister, Lady Palmerston, did much to lift from his
wearied spirit the cloud of melancholy that had settled on it.
Melbourne’s character was rather misunderstood, for his whole life was a
conceited protest against affectation. He was one of those who get great
amusement out of life by treating it as a comedy, in which even in
withered age they persist in playing the _rôle_ of the _jeune premier_.
He toiled hard to persuade Society that he was an elegant idler, and
masked his vaulting ambition under the guise of a cynical indifference
to worldly pomp and power. His tastes were a little coarse--otherwise
his imposture would have been complete, and he would have perhaps
realised the “grandly simple ideal” of a perfect aristocratic character,
which the Earl of March imputed to George Selwyn. Melbourne’s first
impulse was usually to frivolity. But when he saw that business must be
attended to, no man could work harder or bring to bear on affairs of
State a keener intellect, a more astute judgment, or a craftier scheme
of strategy. His handsome person and his charm of manner rendered him in
his old age a _persona grata_ at the Court of the Queen, who treated him
with filial affection and respect. In him one often fancied the
characters of Walpole and Bolingbroke met in combination, and there is a
passage in his speech on the Indemnity Bill (11th of March, 1818) which
may be cited as strangely appropriate to his career. It is that in
which, after expatiating on the advantages which a soldier has whose
exploits are performed in the light of day, before his comrades and his
foes, and so publicly, that his valour and his virtues cannot be denied
or disputed before a world in which they receive bold advertisement, he
proceeds to show that it is far otherwise with the politician. “Not so
the services of the Minister,” exclaimed Melbourne, with a little
sub-acid cynicism; “they lie not so much in acting in great crises, as
in preventing those crises from arising; therefore they are often
obscure and unknown, subject to every species of misrepresentation, and
effected amidst obloquy, attack, and condemnation, whilst in
reality--entitled to the approbation and gratitude of the country--how
frequently are such services lost in the tranquillity which they have
been the means of preserving, and amidst the prosperity which they have
themselves created.”
Another stout political chieftain had passed away on the 21st of
September, when Lord George Bentinck died suddenly of heart disease. His
leadership of the Protectionists had latterly been imprudent and
unpopular, and he had indeed thrown it up during the Session, when it
was no longer possible to conceal the dissatisfaction which it created
among his followers. Lord George Bentinck was an able man, but like
Achilles, “iracundus, inexorabilis, acer.” Discredit has recently been
cast on his career on the turf, which too late in life he deserted for
politics. His indignation at “being sold,” as he phrased it, when Peel
abandoned Protection, flung him headlong into the civil strife of the
times, with all his prejudices thick upon him, and with a mind
ill-equipped by study or training for political controversy or the
practice of statecraft. Fury and rancour, and a strange confusion of
mind in marshalling his arguments, marked his harangues, and in strategy
his impulsiveness and his arrogance often led him into serious errors.
Yet he was popular on the whole in the House of Commons, for he was a
man of dauntless courage, and was supposed to be guided by honesty of
purpose in defending the interests of his order. If he had not been a
little too much given to trumpeting his personal integrity, his zeal and
self-sacrifice would have been better appreciated by his contemporaries,
who till his death did him less than justice.
CHAPTER XX.
DISCONTENTED DEPENDENCIES.
Reaction in England in 1849--Attacks in Parliament on the Queen’s
Speech--Gagging Parliament--The Last Dying Struggle of the
Protectionists--Repeal of the Navigation Laws--The Tory Attack on
the Bishops--Protectionist Plans for Reducing Local
Taxation--Coercion for Ireland--Peel’s Generosity to the Whigs
Explained--Irish Mendicity and English Grants in Aid--A Policy of
Pauperism and Doles--Small Minds in a Great Crisis--Peel’s
Comprehensive Plan for Relieving Ireland--The Break-down of the
Poor Law--The Queen and the Irish Landlords--Prince Albert’s
Project for Reforming the Irish Poor Rate--Scandals at the Colonial
Office--Ceylon--Demerara and Canada--The Loyal Rebels of
Canada--Riots in Montreal--Attacks on Lord Elgin--An Examination
and Defence of his Policy--The Test of Results--“Be Just and Fear
Not.”
When Parliament met on the 2nd of February, 1849, the condition of
England may be described as negatively good. It was not prosperous. It
was not prostrate. The commercial and manufacturing interests were
rallying, but had not yet recovered from the blows of panic in 1847 and
revolution in 1848. The small investors were uneasy about the management
of the great railway enterprises which had absorbed their savings. The
landed gentry were in a state of feverish apprehension as to the effect
of Sir Robert Peel’s fiscal policy, which would come into full
operation in 1849. Ireland was still a distressful country--the Poor Law
having inflicted a severe blow on Property, without at the same time
relieving Pauperism. More legislation, it was felt, was needed to
succour the starving Irish, and the sullen discontent of the people,
which followed the suppressed rebellion, irritated Englishmen and put
the House of Commons in the worst possible temper for initiating
remedial
[Illustration: DEMONSTRATION OF SAILORS IN FAVOUR OF THE NAVIGATION
LAWS.]
legislation for Ireland. But the Party of Violence in England and
Scotland was effectually crushed, and though some sympathy was felt for
its misguided leaders, yet everybody rejoiced that the cause of Social
Order had triumphed in 1848, and that 1849 found England profoundly
tranquil.
The Queen’s Speech referred to the disturbances on the Continent, and to
the steps which the British Government, in conjunction with France, had
taken to produce a permanent settlement of affairs in Sicily. It touched
on the recrudescence of rebellion in the Punjab, suggested a
modification in the Navigation Laws, congratulated the country on
escaping the shock of revolution, and on signs of returning prosperity.
It pointed to an amendment of the Irish Poor Law, and closed with a
proud allusion to the devotion of the English people in maintaining the
great institutions of their country “during a period of commercial
difficulty, deficient production of food, and political revolution.”
Naturally the country Party attacked those portions of the Speech which
implied approval of Sir Robert Peel’s Free Trade policy. In both Houses
the arguments were that the Government exaggerated the prosperity of the
country, that their foreign policy had left them without allies, that
the outlook
[Illustration: THE EARL OF CLARENDON, LORD-LIEUTENANT OF IRELAND.]
abroad in Ireland and in India was troublous, and did not justify the
large reductions in the estimates which were foreshadowed. The Irish
Party in the House of Commons scoffed at the Royal allusions to Ireland,
and contended that the insurrection which had been suppressed was a sham
one, “got up,” said Mr. Grattan, “to put down Repeal.” Radicals like Mr.
Hume attacked the Colonial policy of the Government, and clamoured for
the removal of Lord Grey from the Colonial Office, because of certain
arbitrary proceedings which he had sanctioned in British Guiana and
Ceylon. It was felt that the real object of the Opposition was to
inveigle Parliament into giving a hostile vote against Free Trade and
the Repeal of the Corn Laws, one paragraph in the Amendment to the
Address affirming that the worst Protectionist predictions had been
verified. It was also admitted that the policy of the Government had
been right in its aim, which was to keep the country out of war, and
that this had been attained, in spite of Lord Palmerston’s turbulent
methods of diplomacy. The Amendment to the Address was rejected only by
a majority of two in the House of Lords, but in the House of Commons Mr.
Disraeli was fain to withdraw it. On the 3rd of February, when the
Address to the Crown was adopted, Lord John Russell proposed and carried
certain Resolutions for facilitating the despatch of public business--to
wit, that Bills be read a first time without debate, that when a Bill in
Committee was ordered by the House to be taken up again on a particular
day, then when that day came the Speaker should leave the Chair without
putting any question, and let the House go into Committee without delay;
that the amendments on a Bill, reported from Committee of the whole
House, should be received without debate. Mr. Milner Gibson vainly
endeavoured to induce the House to add another resolution limiting
speakers to one hour each, with an exception in favour of Members
introducing Bills and Ministers of the Crown replying to attacks. Lord
John Russell gave some faint signs of sympathising with this restriction
on Parliamentary garrulity, and Mr. Cobden supported the proposal
vehemently. But Sir Robert Peel carried the House against it, and Mr.
Gibson’s motion was accordingly lost by a vote of 96 to 64.
In the Session of 1848 Ministers were unable to apply their Free Trade
policy to the Shipping Trade, owing to Protectionist obstruction. On the
14th of February, 1849, they, however, proposed to repeal the Navigation
Laws, which restricted “the free carriage of goods by sea to and from
the United Kingdom and the British Possessions abroad.” Power, however,
was reserved to the Queen to re-enact the restrictive laws against
countries that adopted a commercial policy hostile to British interests.
The monopoly of the coasting trade, however, was not completely
abandoned. The President of the Board of Trade, Mr. Labouchere, did not
venture to propose that foreign ships might trade from port to port as
freely as our own. All he said was, that a foreign ship sailing from a
British port might in the course of her voyage to foreign parts touch at
and trade freely in British ports _en route_. The Resolution was
carried, and a Bill founded on it was brought in on the 9th of March,
when it was vigorously opposed by Mr. Herries. The case of the
monopolists was sadly damaged by Mr. Gladstone, who showed that with
every relaxation of restrictions the English Shipping Trade had
increased. The fact was, however, that the question was felt to be no
longer arguable. The Navigation Laws were meant to protect the monopoly
of English shipowners. Having stripped every other class of Protection,
it was absurd to obstruct the perfect working of Free Trade by
maintaining Protection for the benefit of the shipowners alone.
Moreover, it was necessary to establish a free shipping trade in Canada,
to compensate her for the loss of the protective duty on corn. Mr.
Labouchere ultimately struck out the clauses relating to the coasting
trade for purely fiscal reasons, and a masterly speech from Sir James
Graham, on the 23rd of October, carried the third reading of the
measure, which crowned the edifice of Free Trade. In the House of Lords
the narrow majorities in favour of the Government rendered the last
dying struggle of the Protectionists rather exciting. They declared that
the Bishops carried the Bill, and the Earl of Winchelsea warned the
Prelates that if they voted on secular questions in such a fashion they
would be allowed to send only “a chosen few to the Upper House, who
would be permitted to speak and vote solely on religious questions.
Though the Protectionists were defeated, they were not daunted.
Organised under the active and restless leadership of Mr. Disraeli, they
harassed the Government at every point. But their grand attack was made
on the 8th of March, when Mr. Disraeli brought forward a resolution
proposing to throw a portion of local burdens on the Imperial taxation
of the country. This proposal he defended as a fair compensation to the
agricultural interest for the loss of Protective duties on Corn. Finance
was never Mr. Disraeli’s strong point, and, as Mr. Hume observed, it was
not easy to see how the farmers would profit by an arrangement, which,
by Mr. Disraeli’s own showing, would impose on them an additional
income-tax of £6,000,000. Moreover, it was only too obvious that if any
relief were granted to the farmers, it would be speedily appropriated by
the landlords in the shape of increased rent.
Ireland was quiet, but sullen and disaffected. Though there was no open
rebellion in the country, the secret organisation of revolt still
existed, and the Home Secretary felt that it would be necessary to renew
the Bill suspending the Habeas Corpus Act. Sir George Grey brought
forward a motion to this effect on the 6th of February, defending the
proposal on the ground that it was purely a precautionary one, and that
Lord Clarendon, who thought it necessary, could be trusted to use his
powers with discretion. The weakness of the Government lay in their
opposition to the Coercion Bill of 1846. Then they turned out Sir Robert
Peel by refusing to vote for Coercion unaccompanied by remedial
measures. “Where,” asked the Peelites, sneeringly, “are the remedial
measures which should accompany this Whig Bill?” Nevertheless, Peel
generously supported the Ministry, ostensibly or the ground that Ireland
must not be made the battle-ground of Party, really because he was
determined, at all costs, to maintain in power a Ministry that would
give his fiscal policy a fair trial, as against a Protectionist
Ministry, whose primary aim would be to wreck it.
Yet a remedial measure had been introduced by the Chancellor of the
Exchequer on the 7th of February, in a proposal to grant from the
Imperial Exchequer £50,000 to thirty distressed Irish Poor Law Unions,
of which twenty-one were utterly bankrupt. Most pitiful was the picture
which Sir Charles Wood drew of Ireland in moving the grant. The potato
crop had again failed. Pauperism had again increased. Ireland was being
depopulated, not so much by an emigration, as by an exodus. The
landlords were sinking under the poor rates, and their estates, deserted
by tenants who ran away without paying rent whenever they disposed of
their crops,[120] were in many
[Illustration: INTERIOR OF THE HOUSE OF COMMONS.]
places lying waste and desolate. Mr. Hume protested against the
never-ending system of grants in aid, but the Government carried their
vote in its original form.
On the 1st of March Lord John Russell brought forward another Irish
scheme. The Report of the Committee on the Irish Poor Law recommended
that each Union should, by a sixpenny rate, raise a general fund for the
relief of the poor in Ireland, which should be banked in the name of the
Irish Paymaster of the Civil Service, and held at the disposal of
Parliament. Lord John moved that the House go into Committee on this
proposal on the 1st of March. A project to impose a new national tax on
Ireland for
[Illustration: LORD ELGIN, GOVERNOR-GENERAL OF CANADA.]
local purposes, without imposing the same in England, was an eccentric
one to come from statesmen who regarded the Union as a reality, and not
a sham. Logically it was unjust to tax the industry of Ulster in order
to provide local grants in aid for Ireland, while the industry of the
United Kingdom generally escaped taxation. The proposal was obstructed
in various ways, the Ministerial defence being that Imperial taxation
fell more lightly on Ireland than on England and Scotland. Money must be
found for the relief of Irish pauperism somehow, and if not by this
plan, then by an extension of the Income Tax to Ireland, which would be
still less popular. The Peelites even were not at one, Lord Lincoln
advocating the extension of the Income Tax to Ireland, and Peel himself
supporting the rate-in-aid scheme, not because he liked it, but because
he believed that after what had been done for her, Ireland ought to make
some special exertion to help herself, which would also have the effect
of inducing England to co-operate with her in pushing on regenerative
measures. Mr. Bright defended the grant-in-aid scheme, declaring,
however, that the incurable evils of Ireland were traceable to her
misgovernment by her landlords. But it is quite clear that Peel was the
only politician on either side of the House who at this crisis had the
penetration to see that the ills of Ireland were too desperate to be
remedied by a pettifogging system of English doles and grants in aid. He
stood alone in seeing that nothing less than a reform going to the root
of Irish rural economy, would be of the slightest use, and in his speech
he suggested that the best remedy would be to increase facilities for
the transfer of land. From his ambiguous language one gathers that he
had in contemplation some scheme by which the State should buy up the
poverty-stricken tracts and plant them with solvent colonists, the
plantations being managed by a Government Commission. As for the people,
those who were not needed as labourers might be induced by the
Commission to emigrate. Had he combined this project for one to give
Ireland tenant-right, and had he persuaded Parliament to accept his
ideas, there would probably have been no “Irish problem” to perplex us
in the jubilee year of the Queen’s reign. After wearisome debates the
proposal of the Ministry was carried in both Houses, Government having
made an advance of £100,000 to the impecunious Unions in anticipation of
the Bill passing the Lords.
The next Irish measure was Sir John Romilly’s Encumbered Estates Bill,
introduced on the 26th of April. The Bill of the preceding Session had
failed to work because its machinery--that is, the Court of
Chancery--was too cumbrous. Romilly’s idea was to substitute for the
Court a Commission, which should conduct the business of land transfer
unfettered by the clumsy procedure or the heavy fees of Chancery. His
speech was a masterpiece of exposition, and Mr. Bright expressed the
prevailing opinion when he said he accepted the Bill as the harbinger of
better legislation for Ireland. It passed both Houses without serious
opposition.
It has been said that the sudden pressure of the Poor Law on the
mortgaged estates of Ireland nearly ruined the Irish gentry. The Queen
and Prince Albert were deeply distressed by painful accounts of the
sufferings of this class which reached them. The Prince, indeed, drew up
a memorandum for Sir George Grey, pointing out very sensibly the
injustice of the existing law. A good landlord spent his substance in
improving his estate, and in finding or making work for his labourers. A
bad landlord kept his money in his pocket, and when his labourers,
unable to earn wages, began to starve, he threw them on the rates. But
both landlords paid the same poor rate, so that the good landlord not
only taxed himself through his improvements to keep his own workmen
from idleness, but was taxed through the Union, to support the
unemployed workmen of the bad and non-improving landlord. The idea of
the Queen and her husband was that the pressure of the rate should be
eased on good landlords who made sacrifices to keep their labourers in
work and wages. Sir George Grey submitted the project to the Cabinet,
and then told Prince Albert that it would have to be abandoned, for
nobody could embody it in a practical Bill. This did not show that the
idea was bad, but merely that Whig constructive statesmanship at that
time was feeble, not to say incompetent. But the glaring fact remained
that the application of the Elizabethan Poor Law to Ireland was bringing
ruin to the rich, and doing but little to fend off starvation from the
poor. Property was simply unable to support the mass of pauperism that
was suddenly cast on it for maintenance. Some modifications in the law
must be proposed, if the whole system--upheld as it was solely by grants
in aid from England--was not to break down completely. Lord John Russell
accordingly proposed, on the 26th of April, a Bill to limit the
liability of Irish land for poor rates, by fixing a maximum beyond which
the rate could not be increased. The proposal was carried in the
Commons, but in the House of Lords the maximum rate clause was struck
out. This was an infringement of the privileges of the Lower House, for
the Peers have no right to alter a Bill sent up by the Commons fixing
rates or taxes. Yet it was almost impossible for the Peers to handle any
Poor Law Bill without trenching on this privilege, and hence it was
proposed that the House of Commons should formally waive its privileges
in regard to this Bill in order to let it be set down for
reconsideration.[121] Precedents existed in favour of this course, but
Sir James Graham very cogently observed that it was bad public policy to
be perpetually adding to precedents, waiving the absolute and exclusive
right of the Commons to control fiscal legislation, and he ingeniously
suggested another way out of the difficulty. This was to throw the Bill
out in the meantime, and re-introduce it afresh with the Lords’
Amendments embodied in it. The suggestion was negatived, and the Bill
reconsidered, the Lords’ Amendments being for the most part adopted. The
failure of the Government to provide a guarantee for meeting any deficit
that might exist after a maximum rate had been levied, had proved fatal
to the maximum rate clause.
On the 4th of May Ireland again came before the country as the
incorrigible mendicant of Parliament. The Chancellor of the Exchequer,
having prefaced his proposals with the usual commonplace that “the
present desideratum in Ireland was employment,” moved that further
advances should be made under the Land Improvement Act to enable
employers to provide work for the people. In addition to what still
remained to be disbursed by former advances, Sir C. Wood proposed that
£300,000 be granted, thus bringing the total available subsidy to
£1,252,000. Besides this sum, he proposed to advance £200,000 for the
further development of arterial drainage. A feeble protest was made
against this fresh development of an eleemosynary policy. The system of
permitting Government loans to be jobbed away by the Department of
Public Works in Ireland had, it was said, caused a large proportion of
the money voted to be absorbed in extravagant official estimates.
[Illustration: RIOTS IN MONTREAL: LORD ELGIN STONED BY THE MOB.]
But all objections were over-ruled, and Sir C. Wood’s proposal was
accepted in the long-run.
Next to Ireland, the burning question of the Session was that of
Colonial policy. Most Englishmen were profoundly ignorant about their
Colonies. A strong school of politicians, headed by Mr. Bright and Mr.
Cobden, and after them by Professor Goldwin Smith, taught that the best
thing that could be done with a Colony was to get rid of it, as a costly
encumbrance, so that Englishmen who were not ignorant were somewhat
indifferent about Colonial policy. The result was naturally that the
Colonial Office was free to blunder in its Administration without
running any great risk of detection or punishment--and it had made
affluent use of this privilege. Suddenly, in 1849, England became keenly
interested in her distant possessions. Debates on emigration, and the
demand for financial retrenchment, had alike stimulated
[Illustration: RIOTS IN MONTREAL: BURNING OF THE HOUSE OF ASSEMBLY.]
this interest, and it began to dawn upon the House of Commons that a bad
Colonial policy might mean bad Budgets. The first sign of this feeling
was given by Mr. Bailie, who in February brought forward a motion for an
inquiry into the conduct of the Governments of Ceylon and Guiana. His
attack was general as well as particular. In brief, he declared that the
Colonial Office oppressed the Colonies and wasted their revenues in
extravagant expenditure, and he urged that the time had come for
Colonial autonomy. Lord Torrington’s fiscal eccentricities had driven
Ceylon to rebellion, which had been suppressed with shocking barbarity.
The Colonial Office--in other words, Lord Grey--by opposing financial
reforms in Demerara, had rendered it discontented. A feeble Amendment,
moved by Mr. Ricardo, extending the scope of the proposed investigation
into the means by which the Colonies might best meet the difficulties of
the transition from Protection to Free Trade, was all the opposition Mr.
Bailie encountered. The attempt to defend the financial
maladministration of the Colonies by declaring that it was a corollary
of Free Trade failed, and Mr. Bailie’s Committee was appointed. Just
before Parliament was prorogued, Mr. Hume drew the attention of the
House to the evidence it had then accumulated as to Guiana, and moved
that the expenditure of the Colony be reduced, and some measure of
autonomy granted to it. The fault with the administration of Demerara
was this:--for ten years it had been carried on extravagantly in direct
opposition to the views of the elected representatives of the Colonists,
who were for a policy of financial retrenchment. The motion was
negatived, but the debate on it did good. It is perhaps right to say
that the agitation for retrenchment in these Colonies was considerably
stimulated by the abolition of Protection. Free Trade cut down the
profits of the planters. They in turn angrily demanded that the salaries
of Colonial officials should also be docked.
Early in May the Queen was grievously annoyed to learn that the
turbulent Canadians were again threatening to rebel. Parliament,
therefore, soon found itself discussing a Canadian question.
After the rebellion in Canada, which ended in 1838, a Bill was passed
giving compensation to loyal sufferers in Upper Canada. A similar
measure was demanded for Lower Canada--the French province--which had
been the seat of the insurrection. As it was argued that much, if not
most, of the compensation would find its way into rebel hands, the claim
was resisted by “the British Party” in the province. But in 1848 the
Ministry--a Tory, or “British” Ministry--was ejected. The
Governor-General (Lord Elgin) then formed another Cabinet out of the
“French Party,” who, of course, brought in and passed an Indemnity Bill
for the Lower Province. When Lord Elgin went to the House of Assembly,
in Montreal, on the 25th of April, 1849, to give this Bill his sanction,
the “British” mob rose in its wrath, and stoned him as he was leaving
the building. They then set fire to the House of Assembly itself, and
burned it to the ground in a frenzy of loyalty to British interests.
Troops were promptly called out, and the disaffected accordingly adopted
the less violent course of petitioning the Queen to recall Lord Elgin
and veto the obnoxious Bill. The “British Party” gradually cooled down,
but throughout the year they remained very sulky, vainly endeavouring to
persuade themselves to secede to the United States. The condition of the
Colony was, in truth, not such as to stimulate its loyalty. It had lost
the benefit which it had enjoyed from privileged access to a protected
English market. Its finances were disordered. Its stagnation and decay
were in startling contrast to the prosperity and progress of the New
England States of the American Republic. The form of its provincial
Government was cumbrous, inciting to political feuds; and then--worst of
all--in the mother country, Manchester Radicals persistently incited the
Canadians to secede, by promulgating the doctrine that British Colonies
not only benefited by independence, but were, whilst in the dependent
state, a source of trouble and expense to the English taxpayer.
The whole question came before the House of Commons more than once. On
the 14th of June the Rebellion Losses Bill was fiercely attacked by Mr.
Gladstone in the House of Commons as a measure for rewarding rebels.
Some years afterwards Mr. Gladstone made a kind of apology for his
onslaught; but even then he quite misunderstood the true meaning and
bearing of Lord Elgin’s policy.[122] Mr. Herries moved an Address
calling on the Queen to veto the Bill. For two nights it was attacked;
but Sir Robert Peel’s intervention routed the opposition, for he pointed
out that the measure could not possibly give compensation, as Mr.
Gladstone alleged, to any one who was shown to be a rebel, and that it
was only, as Lord Elgin said, the logical sequence of other measures of
the sort, which had been passed without opposition. His strongest point,
however, was that to reject the Bill would be taken as an insult to the
Colony, and an encroachment on its right of self-government. Mr. Herries
lost his motion by a majority of 141. In the House of Lords, however,
the attack was renewed by Lord Brougham, and but for the timely aid of
three proxies the Government would have been beaten by him. The curious
thing to note is the calmative influence of this firm, and resolute
attitude of the Government and Parliament on the Colony. The Tory Party
in Canada up till then had strained every effort, Lord Elgin writes in
one of his letters, to drive him to a _coup d’état_. They had breathed
nothing but rebellion and slaughter for months. The moment Parliament
gently snubbed them, however, they were quieted as if by magic, and
their organs began to write articles declaiming against the practice of
abusing the French, with whom, in the long-run, the Tory or English
Party were bound to live in amity.
During this crisis nothing could be worthier of the occasion than the
courage, the coolness, the dignity, and resolute forbearance of Lord
Elgin. As he says in one of his letters, he stood literally alone. He
was accused of cowardice because he did not quench the revolt in blood;
and even Lord John Russell and Lord Grey, though they defended him,
thought the logic of the case was against him. He was, they argued,
either right or wrong. If the latter, he ought to be recalled; if the
former, he ought to avenge by force of arms the insult offered to the
Queen in his person. But Elgin’s policy was justified by the result.
This was that 700,000 rebellious French subjects of the Queen were
reconciled to her Government, not because they were bribed by
compensation grants, for no actual rebel got any, but because they had a
striking proof given to them that to “be just and fear not” was the
keynote of the British Governor-General’s policy and administration.
[Illustration: OLD FRENCH HOUSE, QUEBEC.]
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Diaries of a Lady of Quality, by Miss Frances Williams Wynn. 1864.
[2] Memoirs of the Courts and Cabinets of William IV. and Victoria, by
the Duke of Buckingham and Chandos. 1861.
[3] Memoirs of an Ex-Minister, by the Right Hon. the Earl of
Malmesbury. 1884.
[4] McGilchrist’s Life of Queen Victoria. 1868.
[5] History of England, Vol. I., chap. 2.
[6] The Greville Memoirs: Second Part (1885), relating to the Reign of
Queen Victoria from 1837 to 1852.
[7] Recollections of Society in France and England, by Lady Clementina
Davies. 1872.
[8] Sir Theodore Martin’s Life of the Prince Consort.
[9] Lord Malmesbury’s Memoirs of an Ex-Minister, Vol. I.
[10] Sir Theodore Martin’s Life of the Prince Consort, Vol. I.
[11] The Early Days of his Royal Highness the Prince Consort; compiled,
under the direction of her Majesty, by Lieut.-General the Hon. C. Grey.
1867.
[12] Letter to Baron Stockmar, May, 1841.
[13] Sir Theodore Martin’s Life of the Prince Consort.
[14] Leaves from the Journal of our Life in the Highlands.
[15] Early Years of the Prince Consort.
[16] Harriet Martineau’s History of England during the Thirty Years’
Peace.
[17] Sir Theodore Martin’s Life of the Prince Consort, Vol. I.
[18] Morley’s Life of Cobden, Vol. I., p. 134: Vol. II., pp. 396 and
482.
[19] Thoughts on the Present Discontents.
[20] Martin’s Life of the Prince Consort, Vol. I., p. 315.
[21] _Examiner_, 27th December, 1845.
[22] The Croker Papers. The Correspondence and Diaries of the late
Right Honourable John Wilson Croker, LL.D., F.R.S., Secretary to the
Admiralty from 1809 to 1830. Edited by Louis J. Jennings, Vol. III., p.
67.
[23] Memoirs of an Ex-Minister, by the Earl of Malmesbury, G.C.B., Vol.
I., pp. 166 and 167.
[24] A Sketch of the Life and Character of Sir Robert Peel, by Sir
Lawrence Peel, p. 283.
[25] Memoirs of Sir Robert Peel, by M. Guizot, p. 251.
[26] Memoirs of Sir Robert Peel, edited by Philip Henry, Earl Stanhope,
and the Right Hon. Edward Cardwell, Vol. II.
[27] Sir Robert Peel: An Historical Sketch, by Henry, Lord Dalling,
1874.
[28] Irish History for English Readers, p. 133.
[29] Morley’s Life of Cobden, Chap. XIV.
[30] _Gardener’s Chronicle_, September, 1845.
[31] Endymion, Vol. II., p. 190 (Tauchnitz Edition).
[32] Prentice’s History of the League, Vol. II., p. 415.
[33] Morley’s Life of Cobden, Chap. XIV.
[34] _Examiner_, 17th January, 1846.
[35] See _Times_ Report, 7th of January, 1846.
[36] Hansard.
[37] Life and Letters of Samuel Wilberforce, D.D., by R. G.
Wilberforce, Vol. I.
[38] Martin’s Life of the Prince Consort, Note by the Queen, Vol. I.,
p. 322.
[39] Leading article, _Daily Chronicle_, 9th April, 1886.
[40] Memoirs of an Ex-Minister, by the Right Hon. the Earl of
Malmesbury, Vol. I. p. 171.
[41] Martin’s Life of the Prince Consort, Vol. II., p. 312.
[42] Campbell’s Lives of the Chancellors.
[43] Memoirs of Sir Robert Peel, edited by Philip, Earl Stanhope, and
the Right Hon. Edward Cardwell.
[44] Martin’s Life of the Prince Consort, Vol. I., p. 328.
[45] Martin’s Life of Lord Lyndhurst, Vol. II., p. 409.
[46] Memoirs of Sir Robert Peel, edited by Lord Stanhope and the Right
Hon. Edward Cardwell. Murray: 1875. Vol. II., p. 298.
[47] Memoirs of Sir Robert Peel, _ut supra_.
[48] Sir Robert Peel’s Memorandum to the Duke of Wellington on the
Position of the Cabinet, June 21. Memoirs of Sir Robert Peel, Vol. II.,
p. 288.
[49] Memoirs of Sir R. Peel, Vol. II., p. 246.
[50] Life of Lord Lyndhurst, by Sir Theodore Martin, K.C.B., p. 418.
[51] The Physiology of the Peel Party. Edinburgh: 1846. _Privately
printed._
[52] Lord Grey’s objections were not overcome, as a matter of fact,
till Lord John Russell pledged himself to exercise vigilant personal
control over Lord Palmerston’s Foreign Policy.
[53] Life of Lord Campbell, by the Hon. Mrs. Hardcastle, Vol. II., p.
201.
[54] See Mill’s Principles of Political Economy, Book V., Chap. XI., §
14.
[55] Memoirs, Vol. VIII.
[56] In the _Edinburgh Review_, Vol. LXXXV., there is an article on
the seizure of Cracow, which, though not written by Prince Albert, one
might almost say was dictated by him.
[57] C. C. Greville’s Journal of the Reign of Queen Victoria, Vol. II.,
p. 421.
[58] Martin’s Life of the Prince Consort, Chap. XVII.
[59] Stockmar’s Memorabilia.
[60] Martin’s Life of the Prince Consort.
[61] Martin’s Life of the Prince Consort.
[62] Stockmar’s Memorabilia.
[63] Life and Letters of Baroness Bunsen, by A. J. C. Hare, Vol. II.,
p. 92.
[64] Experimental Researches in Electricity, by Michael Faraday, Esq.,
D.C.L., F.R.S., &c. From the Philosophical Transactions, Part I. for
1846.
[65] _Times_, 13th January, 1886.
[66] Progress and Poverty, Chap. II.
[67] Life of Lord Campbell, Vol. II., p. 215.
[68] Hansard’s Debates, 19th January, 1847.
[69] _Times_, City Article, 10th January, 1846.
[70] Return in Appendix D to the Report of the Committee of the House
of Commons on Commercial Distress. 1848. P. Paper, No. 395.
[71] Report of the Committee of the House of Commons on Commercial
Distress. Minutes of Evidence. 1848: Q. 4861-4876.
[72] _Edinburgh Review_, 1848.
[73] Life of Lord Campbell, Vol. II., p. 218.
[74] C. C. Greville’s Journal of the Reign of Queen Victoria, Vol. II.,
p. 85.
[75] Life of Lord Palmerston, Vol. II., p. 41.
[76] Life of Lord Palmerston, by the Hon. E. Ashley, Vol. II., p. 46.
[77] It was so obscure that Dr. Wilberforce says, playfully, in one
of his letters to his brother:--“N.B.--Could we not pass a vote that
Hampden should always preach in Hebrew?”--Life of Bishop Wilberforce,
Vol. I., p. 93.
[78] Journal of the Reign of Queen Victoria, Vol. II., p. 115.
[79] Bulwer’s Life of Lord Palmerston, Vol. III., p 388.
[80] A strong Memorandum by Lord Palmerston on the National Defences,
December, 1846, is given _in extenso_ in Lord Dalling’s Life of Lord
Palmerston, Vol. III., p. 390.
[81] Vol. II., p. 220.
[82] Life and Letters of Baroness Bunsen, Vol. II., p. 8.
[83] Life of Bishop Wilberforce, Vol. I., p. 398.
[84] It is supposed to be the special prerogative of Trinity to receive
Royal visitors to Cambridge.
[85] Martin’s Life of the Prince Consort, Chap. X.
[86] Whewell’s Memoirs.
[87] Life of Lord Campbell, Vol. II., p. 226.
[88] Memoirs of an Ex Minister, Vol. I., p. 208.
[89] Martin’s Life of the Prince Consort, Chap. XXIV.
[90] Cobden’s Speeches, Vol. II., p. 548.
[91] _Le Moniteur_, 28th January, 1847.
[92] Correspondence and Conversations of Alexis de Tocqueville with
Nassau William Senior, edited by M. P. Simpson, Vol. I., p. 37.
[93] For much interesting information on Chartism, the reader who
desires to study the subject further may profitably refer to Forty
Years’ Recollections, by Thomas Frost; Frost’s Secret Societies of
the European Revolution; Urquhart’s _Diplomatic Review_; Molesworth’s
History of England; Memoirs and Correspondence of Thomas Slingsby
Duncombe; Gammage’s Narrative of the Chartist Movement; and Sybil, or
the Two Nations, by Lord Beaconsfield.
[94] Memoirs of an Ex-Minister, by Lord Malmesbury, Vol. I., p. 224.
[95] Life and Letters of John, Lord Campbell, by the Hon. Mrs.
Hardcastle.
[96] Memoirs of an Ex-Minister.
[97] Letter to Mrs. Carlyle. Thomas Carlyle: A History of his Life in
London, by J. A. Froude, Vol. I., p. 434.
[98] Martin’s Life of the Prince Consort.
[99] Life and Labours of Albany Fonblanque, p. 217.
[100] Morley’s Life of Cobden.
[101] This was a favourite idea with the Duke. He attributed our Afghan
disasters to our failure to keep open our communications.
[102] Forty Years’ Recollections, by Thomas Frost, p. 161.
[103] Young Ireland: a Fragment of Irish History, by Sir C. Gavan Duffy
(Cassell & Company).
[104] Young Ireland. _Fortnightly Review_, December, 1880.
[105] “It is a peculiarity of Irish rebellion that it counts so much
on the co-operation of women, who are to be nothing less than unsexed
for its purposes. “Women are to squirt vitriol, and women are to put on
hoops--not hoops on their own persons, but hoops on the persons of her
Majesty’s soldiers, hoops wrapped round with turpentine, steeped in tow
and fired.... The _Felon_ newspaper has run its short course. An apter
name should be chosen for the next organ of the Mitchel doctrines. The
_Fiend_ should be the title.”--_Examiner._
[106] New Ireland, Sixth Edition, p. 91.
[107] Prince Bismarck: An Historical Biography, by Charles Lowe, M.A.,
Vol. I., p. 63.
[108] Journal of the Reign of Queen Victoria, Vol. III., p. 169.
[109] Greville’s Journal of the Reign of Queen Victoria.
[110] Sybil, or the Two Nations, by the Earl of Beaconsfield, Book V.,
Chap. I.
[111] It is interesting to record that Lord Brougham, in the House of
Lords on the 21st of July, 1848, read a letter in which the writer said
that Mr. O’Connell had, in conversation, suggested, three weeks before
Sir R. Peel’s Coercion Act was passed, that a suspension of the Habeas
Corpus Act would be preferable, as it “would cure and not irritate.”
Mr. O’Connell further stated that he would support Peel in pursuing
that policy, provided the Minister would pledge himself to introduce
the measures of relief and justice to Ireland which he had so often
promised.
[112] Thomas Carlyle, by J. A. Froude, Vol. I., p. 248.
[113] Letter to the Registrar-General on Health Insurance, by William
Farr, Esq. Appendix to the Registrar-General’s Report for 1849.
[114] Prince Consort’s Speeches.
[115] Leaves from her Majesty’s Journal, 8th of September, 1848.
[116] Lyell was knighted during this visit to Balmoral.
[117] H.R.H. the Prince of Wales.
[118] Professor Anderson’s entertainment is evidently referred to here.
[119] The “ladle” in which the offertory is collected in Scottish
parish churches is passed round each pew by an “elder” of the Kirk.
[120] In the Life of the Prince Consort, by Sir T. Martin, there is a
record of a curious conversation the Prince and Lord Clarendon, giving
a graphic description of rural Ireland at this time.
[121] This was done, as a matter of fact, on three previous
occasions--the Irish Municipal Bill (1834), and the Irish Poor Law
Bills of 1838 and 1847.
[122] Memoir of James, eighth Earl of Elgin, edited by Theodore
Walrond, with a Preface by A. P. Stanley, Chap. IV., pp. 70 _et seq._
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