“But we had not sufficiently calculated the tattle and espionage of a

small town; and had no foreboding of the dark rumours and suspicions

about us to which our plot would give rise: else, I am sure, we should

never have ventured to carry it out. Whatever had been the consequence,

we could, I think, have gone on with it no longer after what has

occurred: but, two days ago, we received a communication stating that

our uncle had died almost suddenly, and had left all his property—a very

considerable one—to my brother and myself: so that my brother can now

pay all his debts, and meet his creditors in the gate; and we have each

of us an income which enables us to dispense with the active practice of

our profession. As, at the same time, it fortunately happens that our

book and our experiments are completed, and my sister-in-law nearly

recovered, we intend to leave this place to-morrow: but, before doing

so, we thought it but right to ask you gentlemen to meet us here to-day,

in order that you may understand what has appeared so mysterious about

us, and explain the same, as I hope you will have the kindness to do, to

your friends. Come, gentlemen, a glass of wine.”

“But,” said one of our party, “young Flibbert saw a grave in your

garden, and a coffin, and all that. What was that, Doctor?”

“Oh,” said Henry, the married man, with a laugh, “that was my wife’s pet

cockatoo! The poor thing died, and I promised my wife to give it decent

burial in the garden; but when I heard the fellow on the wall, I fancied

they would be for digging it up again; and, determined to disappoint

them, I brought the bird back, and stuffed it, having acquired the art

some years ago. Here it is, gentlemen.”

He opened a cupboard, and showed us the stuffed figure of a large white

cockatoo, wanting only a glass case to be really a very handsome thing.

“Anything else, gentlemen?”

“Why,” said another of the party, “the strange lights that have been

seen, and the strange sounds that have been heard; we should like to

have them explained, if not too much trouble.”

“Well,” said he, “our experiments in chemistry and electricity produced

some strange lights now and then; and we purposely frightened the

fellows when they came to dig up the poor cockatoo; and I daresay we

occasionally caused some strange sounds in the same way: but I fancy

that for these latter the late lamented cockatoo is principally

responsible. He was a deuce of a fellow to scream and chatter, though

you wouldn’t think it, to look at him now. Take another glass of wine,

gentlemen.”

We took one more glass, and then departed, feeling rather as if we were

walking with our heads on the ground and our boots in the air. As we

went out at the front door, I saw Miss Cringle at her window, panting to

hear the news; and so I went up to communicate them to her, the others

of the party not daring to breathe a word to anybody until they had told

the whole story to their expectant wives. Of course, the tale was not

long in circulating through Mudford; and I am afraid that, on the whole,

it created a feeling of disappointment: for, though there was something

very strange about it as it was, I think people in general would rather

that the New Doctor had been a robber, and a murderer, and a villain of

the deepest dye.

Next day the two Doctors, with Mrs Smith, and the housekeeper, and the

stuffed cockatoo, all departed from Mudford, leaving instructions with

Knox, the auctioneer, to sell the furniture for what it would bring. A

few months after I got wedding-cards from Mr and Mrs Herbert Smith; and

last Christmas I received a Stilton cheese and a barrel of natives from

the same quarter.

And so ended the strangest affair which has ever occurred at Mudford

during my long residence in the place.

POLITICS AT HOME AND ABROAD.

Seldom has the opening of Parliament been looked forward to with less of

public or party excitement than at present. The country is in a

remarkably tranquil mood, disposed to take all things very quietly. And

yet the circumstances of the time are full of grave interest. An

unparalleled disaster has befallen the gigantic fabric of our

manufacturing industry; and abroad we behold an array of events which, a

few years ago, would have sufficed to produce among us no small degree

of uneasiness and excitement. But ever since the convulsions of 1848

broke up the long peace which settled on Europe after Waterloo—still

more since the ambition of the late Czar led us to renew our experience

of the realities of war—the people of this country have been becoming

used to crises. Since 1859, especially, when the conviction was forced

upon us that French Imperialism is still very much what it was in the

days of our fathers, the public has begun to “discount” the

contingencies of the future, and to insure itself against damage from

their occurrence. We have made ourselves secure—at least as secure as

needs be in present circumstances—against external attack; and we are

well assured that we have no enemies at home—that never before were all

classes of our people so united in bonds of mutual sympathy and

goodwill, or so universally contented with our national institutions. A

country so circumstanced is virtually impregnable; and therefore we can

look forth from our happy island-home upon the troubles or wars of other

States, not indeed in selfish indifference, but with a sense of security

and a consciousness of power, which invest us with a tranquillity that

may be mistaken for apathy.

The great and sad feature of the internal condition of the country is

the cotton famine, which for a year past has weighed like a nightmare

upon our manufacturing districts, extending its baleful influence over

four millions of our people. The calamity came upon us so suddenly that

there was little time to prepare for it. It is true, our liability to

such a calamity had been pointed out, in language of serious warning, by

one or two of our ablest political thinkers, and foremost among these by

Sir Archibald Alison. But the parties most interested, the great

cotton-lords and the manufacturers generally, despised the warning, and

took no measures to avert disaster. Their faith in the doctrine of

demand always producing supply blinded them to their danger. It was a

noble fabric of industry, truly, which they had reared up—a mighty

addition to the wealth and resources of the country—a vast field of

employment for the ever-increasing population of our isles. The effect

was as beneficial as if several thousand square miles of productive land

had been gradually added to the narrow area of the British

Isles—affording remunerative employment to hundreds of thousands of our

people who must otherwise have emigrated, and proportionately adding to

the power of the country and the resources of the State. But any

thoughtful man, as he viewed the annually increasing growth of that

great industry, must have trembled for its permanence; and now that the

blow has fallen, every one must recognise the improvidence exhibited by

the great chiefs of that industry. “We will buy only in the cheapest

market,” they said: “an efficient demand will always secure an adequate

supply.” And as long as there was the least hope of the cotton-dearth

being over in a year or so, they resolutely declined to take any steps

to obtain new sources of supply. They had overstocked the markets with

their goods, and as long as there was a prospect of their old source of

supply being available again by the time those surplus stocks had run

off, it seemed to them better to content themselves with working their

mills only half-time, than to procure future stability for their

industry by an outlay of money. That outlay, indeed, would amply repay

itself in the long-run; but no one likes putting his hand in his pocket;

and month after month of increasing distress passed away without the

manufacturers showing any disposition to move. Recently this inaction

has partially given way; the continued dearth of cotton at length left

the manufacturers no alternative but to open new sources of supply, or

see their own fortunes ruined. The pressure of adversity is hard to

bear, and we have no desire to scrutinise too closely the conduct of the

manufacturers in this most trying crisis. Yet as a mere question of

fact, as a singular political souvenir, it deserves to be noted that an

influential body of these free-traders _par excellence_—men who had

denounced bounties and privileges of any kind as alike unjust and

impolitic—actually memorialised the Government to procure cotton for

them in India, by encouraging the growth of cotton by means of bounties

from the State! Mr Bright himself has recently advocated the same

proposal. We trust, however, that the manufacturers are now convinced of

the hopelessness as well as impolicy of such a project, and that they

will do what every other class has to do—act for themselves, and with

that energy and ability which so eminently distinguish them. The country

has responded, and is still responding, nobly to the bitter cry of

distress from Lancashire; but it is no part of the duty either of the

public or of the Government to procure cotton for the mill-owners by the

offer of State bounties.

Lamentable as is the distress which thus weighs upon so numerous and

industrious a portion of our population, it is consolatory to know that

never yet was a material calamity so redeemed by its moral aspect.

National virtue never before was so strikingly displayed. We may thank

Providence that the disaster has come in its present form. In the

opinion of many good judges, the distress which now so lamentably

prevails in the manufacturing districts, would have come upon us in the

natural course of trade, as the result of the over-production of

previous years. In such a case, it is not to be thought that public

sympathy would have been so widely and heartily displayed, and that the

accusing voices of the operatives would not have been heard against

their masters. But happily the calamity has come in a shape which

silences cavil, and unites the hearts and hands of all in the mitigation

of the distress. The cause of the disaster was beyond our control; and

the very over-production of previous years now proves advantageous—for

the gradual sale of the surplus stocks at good prices (which in other

circumstances would have continued to glut the market and check

production) now helps to compensate the mill-owners for their losses,

and enables them to act with liberality to the suffering operatives. And

that, as a class, they do so act, we have the testimony of the noble

Earl who, with princely munificence, generous sympathy, and

statesmanlike intelligence, heads the movement for the relief of the

distress. All classes, both high and low, are nobly doing their duty.

The patient endurance of the suffering working-classes is heroic; the

lively sympathy and active co-operation of the other classes of the

community on their behalf are without a parallel. The change which has

taken place, in this respect, during a single generation, is something

marvellous. Formerly, under the pressure of hardships less great and

equally beyond the power of any one to prevent, the working-classes

became reckless and broke into outrage; and the rest of the community,

which had done little by its benefactions to avert this outbreak of

suffering, found itself compelled to take stringent measures against

these organised conspirators against the public peace. Now all this is

changed. It is needless, and it were unjust, to throw stones at the old

times. What is now could not have been then. If we examine the causes of

the great change which has supervened, we shall find it first in the

increased intercommunication between all parts of the country; and,

secondly, in the spread of education and intelligence. Railways and

newspapers now bind together all parts and all classes of the country.

Ignorance is the mother of apathy and disunion. When each city, or

district, or class knew little of the character and concerns of the

other parts of the country or classes of the community, it was vain to

expect the ready sympathy and general co-operation on behalf of a

suffering locality, such as, we rejoice to say, has become common now.

Moreover, wealth has increased enormously in this country since the

beginning of the century—and it is only the surplus wealth of a

community that is available for the relief of distress. Let us thank God

that we are as we are, without charging it as a social crime against our

fathers that they acted differently. Let us rejoice that, heavy though

the calamity be, it has at least become a means of uniting all classes

of our people—classes who have so often warred with one another—in the

bonds of sympathy and confidence; and that the British nation has at

length perfected its social existence, by growing into a compact and

harmonious community, every part of which knows intimately and

sympathises heartily with the condition and concerns of the rest.

It is a not less remarkable feature of the times that in politics also

all England now is nearly of one mind. We say “nearly,” for there is one

class which is an exception, and the existence of which has an important

influence upon the relative composition of the two great parties in the

State. But, unquestionably, the great bulk of the nation is now of one

mind in regard to political questions. In a country like England this is

a truly remarkable condition of affairs, and suggestive of but one

inference. Homogeneous nations under a centralised form of government—as

in France—may readily conceive a universal passion for change, the

nation acting together in its wisdom or madness like one man. But the

case is very different in this country. The United Kingdom is an

aggregate of the most opposite forces—it is full of conflicting

interests, each intrenched in some vigorous organisation, whether of

aristocracy, church, commerce, corporations, leagues, or companies. In

such circumstances, a universal agreement of opinion in favour of

altering a single part of our constitution, either in Church or State,

would be an event little short of a miracle. Unanimity of political

feeling in England, therefore, cannot possibly signify anything else

than political contentment—the wish to rest and enjoy, satisfaction with

the form and machinery of the Constitution, and a desire only to see the

machinery of Government ably and honestly worked. And what else is this

than Conservatism? It is Conservatism adopted by the whole nation. It is

a mistake to attribute this universal Conservatism to the breakdown of

democratic institutions in America. The “Conservative reaction,” to

adopt the common but exceptionable phrase, had unmistakably manifested

itself before a single shot had been fired in America—before the

bloodless bombardment of Fort Sumter announced the approach of that

deplorable conflict which has served to expose democracy in its worst

and most contemptible form, and to reveal, in the bosom of republican

America, a mass of corruption, imbecility, meanness, and malignity

which, taken together, have never been equalled in the whole world. But

if a Conservative feeling had been steadily growing up in England before

the “bursting of the American bubble,” it is equally true that that

great collapse of democracy has done much to give to that feeling its

present universality. Abstract reasoning cannot affect mankind with the

same force as actual experiment and practical demonstration. Every

sensible man in this country now acknowledges—what nearly all sensible

men for some years past felt, but lacked the courage to say—that we have

already gone as far towards democracy as it is safe to go, and that

another step like that proposed by Lord Russell would have carried us

irretrievably over the precipice. This is the great moral benefit which

we have derived from the events in America. The vast superiority of our

mixed Constitution is now so demonstrated, that every man may now say

what he thinks publicly and without reserve. Even men who have been all

their lives supporters of the “Liberal” party—men who, up to the last

moment, were in favour of a farther degradation of the franchise—now see

the folly of their course, and, moreover, have an excuse for avowing

their change of opinion. Hence it is that England is now all of one

mind. And what is that, we repeat, but that all England is Conservative,

and that the Liberal party in office is an anachronism?

There might be some excuse for this anomalous position of affairs, if

the Liberal Ministry ever professed to believe that Liberal principles

are still popular. But they do not—they cannot. After nearly ten years

of selfish and most reckless trafficking in Reform Bills, Lord Russell

himself repudiated his own work. He abandoned it in the same spirit of

selfishness as he took it up. It was in the hope of reviving his faded

popularity that he first proposed a further Reform Bill in the end of

1851; and, backed by a party as insincere as himself, he kept playing

off his precious Bill, year after year, as a convenient party manœuvre

against his Conservative rivals. But no sooner, when reinstated in

office, did he and his colleagues find that they were about to be “hoist

with their own petard,” than the Bill was shelved. Reform was not only

abandoned, but treated with contempt by the Whig occupants of the

Treasury Bench; and the Minister who had once shed tears when forced by

his colleagues to postpone his Bill, at length, on the 5th of February

1861, not only buried Reform, but, like a wild Irishman, danced upon its

grave! In their projects of ecclesiastical innovation, the members of

the present Ministry have been equally defeated. When baffled in their

attacks upon the State, they still thought it was a popular thing to

assault the Church. In this also they have at length been undeceived:

and now what have they left to do? They have not a single card left to

play. Their whole list of measures, after having been deliberately

considered by the nation, has been condemned and rejected with contempt.

Like the Federal generals at Fredericksburg, they have tried attack

after attack upon every part of their rivals’ position, and with every

man they could muster, only to see every attack fail, and recoil in

ruinous loss upon themselves. The Federal general, when condemned to

inaction and menaced by a superior force, wisely abandoned his ground,

and put a river between himself and his foe. It is time the Whig

Ministry should execute a similar “strategic movement,” if they do not

wish to fare worse than General Burnside, and be kicked across the

Rappahannock, instead of avoiding a catastrophe by a timely retreat.

We have said that there is one exception to the unanimity of political

feeling which now pervades this country, and that exception, we need

hardly say, is the party of Radicals whose mouthpiece is Mr Bright. We

can no longer call this the “Manchester” party; for, whatever may have

been their sentiments hitherto, we have reason to believe that the views

of Mr Bright are now repudiated by the greater part even of our

manufacturing classes. But Mr Bright is incurable. All his life he has

been a man of one idea, and one-ideaed he must be to the end. There must

always be men of this kind. We must lay our account to have Radicals.

Like the poor, they are always with us. And they are not without use in

their way. This is a free country, and a few eloquent or blustering

Radicals serve to “let off the steam” of their class, and serve to

remind the sober-minded portion of the community what a very mad and

drunken thing Radicalism is. Mr Bright and his followers may hold a

place in political England as usefully as the drunken Helots did in the

social usages of Sparta. But though we have no great zeal for the

conversion of this Abbot of Unreason and his motley followers, we think

the country will agree with us that they ought not to be taken by the

hand by those in high places, and allowed to play their pranks in the

government of the country. Yet this is just what must happen in the

present anomalous position of parties. The country has no objection to

hear Mr Bright speak on any subject and in any way he likes, either in

or out of Parliament; but it cannot regard with indifference a position

of affairs which makes his support indispensable to the existence of a

Ministry. The Tories are not only the strongest party in Parliament, but

now equal in number the Whigs and Radicals put together. By a slow and

steady growth the Conservative party is regaining the predominant

position which it held from 1842 to 1847, when a question, not of

constitutional but of commercial policy, so lamentably disrupted its

power. Now, as in 1841, the Whig Ministry is at its mercy, and is only

spared for the sake of the gallant old statesman who heads the motley

crew, and is worth all the others put together.

We see nothing surprising in this recovery of the Conservative party.

The only surprising thing would have been if it had not taken place. It

is not necessary, nor would it be correct, to attribute the recovery to

any extraordinary generalship on the part of its leaders. In the five

years which followed the Reform Bill, the Conservative party made almost

as great a rally as they have done in the fifteen years which followed

the split on the Corn-laws; and yet that split was not on a

constitutional question, and the Conservative section which left the

main body might have remained as good Conservatives as ever. The

Conservative “reaction,” now in progress, and nearly accomplished, has

been slow and tardy, but it promises unmistakably to be proportionately

enduring. In the opinion of all, the work of Constitutional Reform has

been carried as far as it is wise to carry it; and in the opinion of

all, the Whig Ministers who, for a dozen years, have been urging us

towards further innovations both in Church and State, have proved

themselves to be unsafe leaders. As the sole means of retaining office,

the Whigs now repudiate their old measures and principles—everything

that was peculiar to them—and act the part of unwilling Conservatives.

Now in regard to constitutional questions—which are the grand tests of

difference between Whig and Tory—there is a notable difference between a

change of opinion on the part of a Liberal and of a Conservative. The

greatest and not least illusory boast of the Liberals hitherto has been,

that all their distinctive measures have been carried in the end, and

have been accepted by the Conservatives themselves; and, therefore, that

the Conservatives have always been in the wrong, and the Whigs in the

right. Such a boast, partially fallacious as to facts, is totally

illusory in its logic, for it is to be observed that, as the capacity of

the people for self-government is always increasing with the increase of

wealth and intelligence, it may be that the Conservatives were right

when they opposed a particular change, and right also when subsequently

they adopted or acquiesced in it. But with the Liberals this is

impossible. If Lord Russell’s Reform Bill was bad and worthy only of

contempt in 1861, it must have been still more mistimed and worthy of

all condemnation in 1851, when he first announced it. The same is true

of the Ballot question and the other proposed innovations upon the

Constitution. Thus one of two things must follow. Either the Whig

Ministers were right and the whole country is wrong; or else, a more

probable supposition, the country is right and the Whigs were wrong. If

we accept the first alternative, what are we to think of Ministers who

repudiate what they believe to be right for the sake of retaining

office, and act the part of Conservatives when believing that the

welfare of the country calls for “sweeping reforms?” If we accept the

other alternative, can we, on a review of the last ten years, imagine a

deeper depth of degradation than that to which Liberalism and its chiefs

have now sunk? for while Liberalism has proved itself a perilous

absurdity, its chiefs have not only endorsed that judgment, but have

gleefully repudiated their old professions for the sake of postponing

their fall from office.

In truth, the greatest retarding obstacle to the triumph of the

Conservative party is the completeness of the triumph achieved by their

opinions. Conservatism is now so universally the feeling of the nation,

that there is no room for rivalry. Although the Liberals are in office,

they know that their creed is now an absurdity—that the measures which

they have so long vaunted and ventilated would now be scoffed out of the

House, and held up to public ridicule in ‘Punch’ and the ‘Times.’ They

feel that it is vain to contend against the Conservative feeling of the

nation, and therefore they fall in with it. Their best defence, their

best plea for being allowed to retain office, is based on the very fact

that the triumph of their rivals’ principles is now too complete to be

gainsaid. “It does not matter who is in office,” say the Ministerial

apologists; “the country is all of one mind, and the policy of the

Government must be the same whether Whig or Tory be in office.” They

forget to complete the exposition by saying that that policy must be

Conservative! Able and willing to eject the party of innovation from

Downing Street, the Conservatives are naturally somewhat embarrassed to

find the premises occupied by a set of men professing Conservatism. If

Liberalism and Conservatism were to come into conflict, Liberalism would

instantly go to the wall, and the Ministry be expelled by an

overwhelming majority. But the quondam Liberals think of nothing so much

as eschewing Liberalism: they will have nothing to do with it; they will

back it no longer; they will not even name it lest they give occasion

for a challenge!

Even supposing the quondam Liberals now in office were sincerely

convinced of the folly of the measures which they so long supported, but

which the country so emphatically rejected, they cannot be good

Conservatives if they wished it. For to retain office they must

propitiate the Bright party. They must throw them crumbs occasionally,

smuggle little Radical clauses into otherwise good bills, and go into

the same lobby with them on all questions which do not endanger their

existence as a Ministry. This is a most irritating, vexatious, and

contemptible game, and would justify the country in cutting it short by

a vote of want of confidence. The Ministry now forswear all the Liberal

measures as Government questions, but they support them with their votes

and influence. They retain office in the character of Conservatives, but

they give all the influence of office in favour of Liberalism. Such a

system cannot last long.

A Cabinet so ignominiously circumstanced has not often been seen.

Defeated again and again—impotent to propose a single measure of

practical value—their only skill is shown in the way in which they evade

a decisive trial of strength with the Opposition. And in the

constituencies their only hope lies in the longevity of their

supporters. For every two Whig or Radical seats that become vacant, a

Conservative is sure to get one of them—still further swelling the

triumphant phalanx of the Opposition. The leading journal itself now

scoffs at the whole programme of Liberalism. When alluding to the

programme of the Ministerial candidate for Southampton—namely,

“Extension of the franchise, the Ballot, abolition of Church-rates, and

progressive political and ecclesiastical reform”—the ‘Times’ rightly

calls it “dreary old stuff,” and adds:—“There is not in the programme

either a sentiment to raise the soul from the street mud, or a measure

which can be said to be really before the British public. As a political

statement it is at once hazy and pedestrian, unpractical and unideal. No

reasonable being expects that either the franchise will be extended, or

the Ballot introduced, or Church-rates abolished, unless it be by some

compromise; or that there will be any very remarkable reforms, either in

Church or State, for many a day.” And the same journal now claims for

the Premier as his highest credit that he has “no principles!” As the

‘Times’ aims above all things to express public opinion, these are

remarkable words, and show what a defunct, petrified, and wholly

antediluvian thing Liberalism has become. We use the word Liberalism, of

course, in its accepted sense, as equivalent to the opinions and

measures of the party which has called itself “Liberal,” though with no

special claim to the title—in fact, with less real claim than the

Conservatives have; for the liberalism of the Liberals has been all in

the air, and is now (happily for the country) nowhere; whereas the

liberalism of the Conservatives, if of a more homely, is of a more

genuine and practical kind, which pervades the whole scope alike of

their measures and of their policy. To be truly liberal is a very

different thing from being simply innovating; and although the bastard

liberalism of the Whigs and Radicals is now justly discredited, we need

not shrink from taking credit for the genuine and practical liberality

which has characterised the administration of recent Conservative

Governments. As regards administrative ability, the statesmen of the

Conservative party can still more unquestionably claim a superiority

over their rivals. One of the bitterest antagonists of Conservative

principles lately admitted that Lord Derby’s last Cabinet was the most

efficient Administration he had ever known; and every one who contrasts

the activity and wise legislation of that Cabinet, in all its

departments, with the “wasted sessions” which have marked the career of

the present Ministry, cannot fail to endorse that opinion. Nor must we

forget the immense negative as well as positive benefits which the

country owes to the Conservative party. At a time like the present, when

it is evident that the Conservatives are again about to be raised to

power, with a fair prospect of a long term of office, it is right to

remember what they accomplished as a party in the “cold shade” of the

Opposition benches. Ever since the short-lived Administration of Sir R.

Peel and the Duke of Wellington in 1835, the Conservatives have been

able to foil the attacks of their antagonists upon the Constitution,

both in Church and State. At that time the Appropriation Bill received

at their hands its quietus, despite the shameful compact between the

Whigs and the O’Connell party; and we can now name half-a-dozen measures

inimical to the Constitution which have recently been resisted with

equal success, despite a similar degrading compact between the Whigs and

the Radical followers of Mr Bright. One has only to look back upon the

last thirty years, and contrast the prospects of the country then with

its condition now, to see how remarkable have been the achievements and

how valuable the services rendered to the country by the Conservative

party. As Sir Stafford Northcote well said when recently addressing the

Conservatives of South Devon:—

“To the Conservative party the country is indebted for the fact that

we have now a constitutional and ancient monarchy, and that we do not

live either under a republic or a despotism; that we have a House of

Lords respected and independent; that we have a House of Commons such

as he would not say was ideally perfect, but such as fairly

represented all classes; that we have a pure and Established

Protestant Church, which is at once established and regulated by law,

and yet is not a slave or tool of the State; besides other blessings

which he need not enumerate. All this they owed to the gallant stand

made by the Conservative party, and to the way in which their

exertions had been backed up by the people throughout the length and

breadth of the land.”

The sole prestige of the present Cabinet centres in the Premier. In the

estimation of the country, Lord Palmerston is the Government.

Ministerial candidates swear by no one else. Lord Russell is already

becoming a name of the past, and in practical administration has proved

himself the greatest blunderer of his day. As regards Mr Gladstone, the

country has got sick of his clever and risky budgets, and sighs for a

plain business-like balancing of income and expenditure, accompanied by

as much economy as can be effected without impairing the efficiency of

our national establishments. But Lord Palmerston, with fourscore years

on his shoulders, has now a greater reputation than he ever had, or than

is accorded to any of his contemporaries. England loves old statesmen.

No Minister in these days need expect to acquire the confidence of the

country under sixty, but, if he avoid any great failure, every year

after that may be expected to add to his reputation. It is an additional

sign of the times that the only popular statesman in the present Cabinet

is an old Tory—one who grew up in the Toryism of Pitt, and for a dozen

years was initiated in the management of war and the conduct of foreign

policy under Castlereagh. In his old age, in the last and brightest

phase of his long career, Palmerston acquires his fame in the very

character in which he first entered upon office. It is as a War Minister

that the Premier chiefly commands the confidence of the country. As a

legislator he was never of any account; as a Foreign Minister he was

bold, astute, and on the whole successful; but now that, as Premier, he

can direct both the War Office and the Foreign Office, he has the widest

possible scope for his peculiar abilities. And he has this great

advantage, that he is not only a vigorous and sagacious director of our

foreign policy, but the country fully believes in his vigour and

sagacity—nay, great as they are, exaggerates them. He is the only

statesman in England that the people would follow to war unhesitatingly.

In some respects this may not be a matter of congratulation, but in

other respects it is a great advantage. Foreign Governments, when they

see England well armed, and know that she is ready to use her power

promptly and energetically, if need be, will be cautious how they seek

either to injure or insult us. This is unquestionably a benefit which we

derive from the dictatorship of Lord Palmerston; and we have much need

to acknowledge it, for it is the only one! The Cabinet without

Palmerston is nothing. Fancy the same set of men with Lord Russell or Mr

Gladstone for Premier, and the Ministry would not last a day. Foreign

politics is still the great affair of the time; and, failing the present

Premier, there are two men to whom the eyes of the country would by

common consent turn, and these are Lord Derby and Lord Malmesbury.

Beyond all question, these two statesmen are our great Foreign Ministers

of the future; and, however troubled that future may be, the fortunes of

the country will be safe in their hands. In the trying period of 1859,

the Earl of Malmesbury displayed a discernment, firmness, and masterly

tact, which now, though tardily, are fully acknowledged. When Palmerston

was at fault—when that veteran statesman imagined that Napoleon did not

purpose war, and when he kept repeating that “the Treaty of 1815 must be

respected”—Lord Malmesbury had already seen through the game of the

French Emperor, and took the ablest means to meet it. If deprived of

Lord Palmerston, the Liberal party would not have a single man competent

to direct the foreign affairs of the country; but there is no such lack

on the side of the Conservatives. And this is fortunate—for it is

evidently the Conservatives who are to be the predominant party in the

State for a good many years to come, and it is upon them accordingly

that the onerous duty of maintaining the honour and integrity of the

country will chiefly devolve.

Lord Palmerston, there is no doubt, is the supreme director of the

foreign policy of the Government. Lord Russell is allowed, _more suo_,

to write extraordinary despatches, and to quote Vattel and Puffendorf to

show how little he understands them; but whenever he takes a view which

Palmerston thinks wrong, the Foreign Minister has to do as the Premier

desires him. Thus it is no secret that the Foreign Secretary was in

favour of the formation of Italy into two States—an idea which his chief

very wisely negatived. And although not generally known, it is not less

true that when, in May 1860, the French Government proposed a joint

intervention, in order to prevent Garibaldi crossing from Sicily into

Naples, Lord Russell was willing to acquiesce in the imperial project,

but was overruled by the decisive and sagacious judgment of the veteran

Premier. But when not thus in leading-strings, Lord Russell plays most

fantastic tricks, so that Continental diplomatists have often wondered

that such a mountebank should be the occupant of the British Foreign

Office. The air of Germany seems especially to disagree with his

Lordship, as three notable escapades suffice to demonstrate. There was

first the grand mission to Vienna in 1855, whither his Lordship chose to

go _en famille_, and from which he returned with such a progeny of

blunders as astonished his colleagues, and induced even the model young

Whigs to sign a round-robin begging him to resign, and not pull down the

Ministry along with him. In the autumn of 1860 he was again in Germany,

and the fruit of his cogitations in that foreign atmosphere was his

memorable despatch of August 31, which he immediately afterwards

repudiated by his still more memorable despatch of October 27. Once more

he has been in Germany, and again the “black-fate” seems to have fallen

upon him: for in the despatch which he wrote on the Danish question at

Cobourg he has at once reversed the policy of his own and of all our

other Governments during the last ten years, and taken part against a

nation with whom we have especial reasons to be friends, and at the very

time when such an act of unfriendliness towards Denmark was peculiarly

out of place. Startling and incomprehensible as have been the blunders

of Lord Russell, alike in domestic and foreign policy, it surpassed

belief that he should have reserved his masterpiece of folly and

incapacity to be directed against a nation, between whose dynasty and

our own an official announcement had just been made of an impending

matrimonial alliance.

Lord Russell’s despatch of 24th September, by which, for the first time,

the British Government is made to side with the Germanic Diet in

menacing the integrity of Denmark, produces an embarrassment for that

country at the very time when the difficulties of the Scandinavian

kingdoms were on the eve of a most happy solution. For two or three

years past there has been a growing desire on the part of the

Scandinavian peoples for closer union, by the consolidation of Sweden,

Norway, and Denmark into one State. The difficulty was as to the means

by which this was to be accomplished, and as to the form which the

desired union of the cognate kingdoms should take. At one time it seemed

as if an extraneous influence would exercise a malefic influence upon

the process. At the beginning of September 1861 the King of Sweden,

grandson of the French general Bernadotte, went by invitation to visit

the Emperor Napoleon at Paris; and by some of the strange means which

diplomatists have at command, it transpired that a secret arrangement

had been come to by the two sovereigns that the King of Sweden should

begin to play an ambitious game in the Baltic, supported by the Emperor

of the French. Charles XV., youthful and ambitious of military glory,

longed to repeat in the North the _rôle_ which Victor Emmanuel had

played in the South; and the purport of the agreement between the

monarchs of France and Sweden was, that in return for co-operating with

France whenever a necessity should arise, by disquieting or attacking

either Russia in Finland, or Prussia through Holstein, the dominions of

the Swedish King should be aggrandised by Finland on the east, and on

the west by the absorption of Denmark. Of the agitation which was

immediately commenced in Finland we need not now speak; but a Swedish

propagandism was at the same time commenced in Denmark, both in the

towns and in the rural districts, for the purpose of altering the

succession to the throne of Denmark in favour of the descendant of

Bernadotte. As the King of Denmark has no heirs, it had been settled by

the “London protocol,” and the act of succession based upon it, that

Prince Christian of Holstein-Sonderburg should be recognised as heir to

the Danish crown: hence the first object of the Swedish party in Denmark

was to get this Act set aside. And as it is stipulated by the Act that

the accession of Prince Christian to the throne shall be conditional

upon the consent and approval of the Danish people, every means was

employed to render the hereditary prince unpopular.

The closing months of last year witnessed a most happy change. The

jealous opposition of the King of Sweden has recently given way to

feelings the very opposite. The difficulty which his ambition threatened

to occasion has been solved in a manner which will happily secure the

Scandinavian kingdoms against any such danger in the future, and,

moreover, gives promise of uniting them on equal terms and by mutual

consent into one powerful and harmonious kingdom. Prince Christian, the

heir to the crown of Denmark, has a tolerably large family; Charles of

Sweden has only one daughter. It seems that it is now arranged that the

eldest son of Prince Christian is to marry the only daughter of the King

of Sweden; so that, when Charles of Sweden on the one hand, and the

present King of Denmark and his immediate heir (Prince Christian) on the

other, shall have passed from the scene, the crowns of Denmark and

Sweden will be virtually united, as the King of Denmark will then be

husband of the Queen of Sweden;[5] and in the generation following the

crowns will be united _de facto_ upon the head of their offspring. This

will be a happy consummation in the eyes of the Scandinavians; it is

desirable also as a matter of European policy. The Scandinavian

kingdoms, though not rich either in population or resources, and at

present of little weight as military Powers, occupy a geographical

position of great strategical importance in naval warfare. Severed as

they now are, neither of them could defend its own position—Sweden

against Russia, Denmark against Germany. But if united, their seamen are

so excellent, and their position so insulated, as to render their

frontiers comparatively secure. They would need little assistance from

any friendly Power; and yet, if that Power were a maritime one like

England, they could render it in return the most important service. They

hold the gates of the Baltic. Rifled cannon have now rendered the Sound

totally impassable in the face of the batteries which crown the heights

on either shore. Even in former times, Nelson only got through by

hugging the Swedish shore, the batteries on which did not open fire. At

present we are at peace, and we ever wish to remain at peace; but should

the old and formidable project of a maritime confederacy be again tried

against us—a project which it required all the naval genius of Nelson,

and the secrecy and promptitude of the Copenhagen expedition, to foil—we

shall be at no loss to comprehend the importance of having the gates of

the Baltic held by a friendly Power. The cutting off the co-operation of

the Russian fleet against us would be equivalent to an addition to our

navy of fifteen sail of the line. It is only natural, then, that the

Russian Government should now express its approval of Earl Russell’s

proposal, which cannot fail to estrange England and Denmark, and also

tends to obstruct the formation of an independent Scandinavian Power,

which would naturally be a rival of Russia on the Baltic.

Seven years ago, when reviewing the contingencies of the future,[6] we

pointed out the importance to England of establishing a close alliance

with the Scandinavian Powers, and dwelt on the natural ties and common

interests which ought to make such an alliance easy of attainment and

permanent in duration. The happy event, now about to be consummated, of

a matrimonial alliance between the Royal Families of England and

Denmark, will naturally cement an alliance also between the two

countries. Before Prince Christian’s eldest son weds the only daughter

of the King of Sweden, his eldest daughter will have become the consort

of the heir to the British throne. This promises to be a most happy, as

it is of all others, a most natural alliance. The Danes and English are

kindred peoples. The former have given to the British nation the best

portion of its blood. To our Scandinavian forefathers we owe our

national love of the sea, our spirit of enterprise and adventure which

carries us into all parts of the world; and also from them, as much as

from the Saxons, we derive our love of freedom and free institutions.

Royal matrimonial connections have not the importance they once had,—for

the will of the nation has supplanted the mere personal will of the

sovereign; but in the present case the nations are so kindred in blood,

and have so many interests in common, that the people of England and

Denmark are likely to be as good friends as their respective Courts

could desire. Without attaching undue weight to the new relationship

about to be formed between the two countries, we may at least hail it

with satisfaction as certain to make either nation think more of the

other, and in so doing to perceive the striking similarity of character

and community of interest which exist between them. We are happy to feel

assured that it is not as a political match that this marriage is to be

contracted by the son of our beloved Queen, and that the bride-elect

possesses in an eminent degree those advantages of person, charms of

manner, and piety and amiability of character which captivate affection

and secure domestic happiness. Nevertheless, while as a good princess

and queen she will win our hearts, it is an additional pleasure to feel

that, as sister of the future Scandinavian King, she will rivet an old

and natural alliance, and draw into closer bonds the kindred races of

Northern Europe.

In such a position of affairs, it was to be expected that if any change

took place in the policy of England towards Denmark, it would be towards

the side of friendliness. Yet the very reverse has been the case.

Reversing the policy of his predecessors, and even of the present

Government, Lord Russell has withdrawn the support of England from the

Danish Government, and now backs up the Germanic Diet in its unfounded

pretensions and serious attack upon the integrity of Denmark. His

Lordship’s bizarre blundering on past occasions has prepared us for

almost any folly which it was in his power to commit; but his cruel

blunder in regard to Denmark is so inexplicable, so wholly devoid either

of reason or excuse, and it has been perpetrated, too, in so insensate a

fashion, that it is extraordinary and intolerable even for Lord Russell.

The States of Holstein and Lauenburg are German duchies which for

centuries have formed part of the Danish kingdom, but which are also

members of the Germanic Confederacy, and over which, accordingly, the

German Diet can claim a certain degree of control. When the present King

of Denmark framed a common constitution for his whole dominions, the

German Powers objected, and by hostile menaces compelled the Danish

Government to give a separate Constitution to Holstein and Lauenburg.

Such an _imperium in imperio_ is a grave difficulty for Denmark, as it

would be for any State; and recently the Danish Government has agreed

“to accord to the Estates of Holstein a legislative and supply-granting

power, in conformity with the decrees of the Diet of 4th March 1860 and

7th February 1861.”[7] So far as Holstein is concerned, the Danish

Government, to its own great embarrassment, has virtually consented to

all that the German Diet demands.[8] But the Diet is not content, and

has now undertaken a similar interference with the condition of

Schleswig. Unlike Holstein, Schleswig is a purely Danish province. In

1823 the Prussian Government itself declared that “the Confederation was

excluded from interfering in the government of Schleswig, as that duchy

does not form one of the Confederated States (_Bundeslande_), and is

therefore beyond the influence of the Diet.” The sole ground upon which

this assumption to interfere is now made, is, that so many Germans have

migrated into Schleswig that they now compose half of the population.

Upon this preposterous ground the Germanic Diet demands that Schleswig

also shall have a separate constitution! If this were conceded, the

small territory of Denmark would contain no less than four separate

constitutions, and four rival Estates—namely, of Lauenburg, Holstein,

Schleswig, and Denmark Proper—each of which could give check to the

others, and bring the whole administration to a dead-lock. To add to the

extravagance of this project, the German Diet, after long declining to

formulate its demands, proposes to accomplish the autonomy of the Danish

provinces which it so modestly takes under its charge, by the

establishment of a new constitution for the Danish kingdom, in which

each of the four provinces or states of the kingdom shall have as many

representatives as the other; so that Lauenburg, with its 50,000

inhabitants, shall have as many votes as Denmark Proper, with its

1,600,000 inhabitants. And as Holstein and Lauenburg are both German,

and as Schleswig is half German, it would follow that the whole

legislation and policy of the kingdom would be regulated by the German

element, which numbers only about 750,000 out of the two and a half

millions of the population.

The Germanic Powers have no right of any kind to interfere with the

affairs of Schleswig, and their attempt to do so is one of the most

glaring assumptions of power which a stronger State ever put forward at

the expense of a weaker. The Danish Government, with that simple-hearted

daring which distinguishes the Scandinavian race, has given a direct

negative to the demands of the Diet; and rather than permit a foreign

Power to interfere in its domestic affairs, is ready, with its handful

of gallant and dauntless forces, to give the Germans a sample of Danish

pluck and prowess. The Danish Government has not flinched an inch,

although Lord Russell has strangely transferred his support to the other

side. His Lordship, indeed, does not adopt in its exact form the

Germanic programme; he does not propose that there shall be a common

constitution for the whole kingdom, in which each province shall be

equally represented; but he would give Schleswig (as well as Holstein

and Lauenburg) a separate constitution from Denmark Proper, and would

give to each of these provinces a co-ordinate power with the rest of the

kingdom. He would have a “normal budget” on the lowest scale, to be

fixed every ten years by agreement among the four Estates of the

kingdom, any one of which can reject it, and thereby “stop the supplies”

at once. And all extraordinary expenses—_i.e._, such as exceed this

minimum budget—must be sanctioned annually by each of the four Estates.

Anything so impracticable was never before proposed by a statesman, and

two years ago was expressly condemned as impracticable by Lord Russell

himself.[9] Lauenburg, with its 50,000 inhabitants, could bring all

Denmark to a dead-lock. It is extremely doubtful whether even the normal

or minimum budget would ever be voted by all of the Estates; but in

regard to the extraordinary expenses, which would actually be called for

every year, disagreement would be inevitable. Fancy Denmark wishing to

increase her fleet—that fleet which Germany regards with so much

jealousy, having been made to feel its power—would Holstein or Lauenburg

agree to the vote? Or in the case of a rupture with the aggressive

German Powers, would not these provinces avail themselves of the power

which Lord Russell and the Germanic Diet propose shall be conferred on

them, in order to stop the budget being voted in any form?

Of all the mad pranks which Lord Russell has played, this is certainly

the most insensate. What a precedent he makes! With equal reason France

might interfere in the affairs of our own country, and demand that

Ireland should have a Parliament of her own, and also that the consent

of that Parliament should be requisite before a single tax could be

levied in any part of the United Kingdom! With equal reason Russia might

demand separate governments for any or every part of the Turkish empire,

and, moreover, insist that each of these parts should have a power of

checkmating all the others. We naturally protest against the despatches

of Lord Russell on account of their absurdity—we protest also on account

of their injustice and substantial hostility to Denmark; and not less do

we protest against any such act of interference being committed at all.

Is it not strange, ludicrous, humiliating, to see our Foreign Minister

lecturing little Denmark on her duties to her own subjects, and

submitting a constitution cut-and-dry for her adoption, even prescribing

minute details of taxation, &c.; and yet, at the very same time, our

Government dare not say a word to the Cabinet of Washington—nay, is full

of ample apologies for one of its own members who happened to express an

opinion which is universal in this country—and stands by in humble

silence and inaction while “the North fights for conquest and the South

for independence”? The contrast is striking and humiliating. The attempt

to coerce little Denmark is ignoble—the proposals which it is desired to

enforce are absurd in their form, and most impolitic in their object. We

wait to hear what the British Parliament will say to a policy in which

folly and meanness are combined in equal proportions.

Strangely enough, the Continental Power which is foremost in demanding

these “reforms” in the internal Government of Denmark, is itself

exhibiting a melancholy spectacle of a government at feud with its own

subjects. For three years past the condition of Germany has been growing

more and more distracted. In the search for unity it is becoming

divided; and nowhere does dissension show itself so much as in the very

Power which was looked to as the natural head and rallying-point of the

work of union. We deeply lament the troubles of Prussia, and not less

deeply do we lament the injurious influence which they exercise upon the

general condition and prospects of the Fatherland. There is no State in

Europe which more tries the temper of the British public than Prussia.

As a people we desire to think well of her; and yet ever and anon she

checks our sympathy by some astounding exhibition of the dullest

wrongheadedness. The Germans have little that is bad in their nature,

but they are provokingly dull, and get into “insuperable difficulties”

which might easily be evaded. The present conflict in Prussia between

the King and the Chambers is a difficulty of their own making. We have

not here the case of a despot wishing to crush the liberties of the

nation, nor a revolutionary Chamber whose main desire is to overturn the

Throne. After watching the progress of the quarrel from the

commencement, and with the impartiality which comes easily to an

observer at a distance, we are convinced that the King and the Chamber

are alike sincere in their desire to do right, and that their lamentable

strife has arisen from what was at first but an accident of the

position.

The cause of the quarrel between the Prussian Government and the popular

branch of the Legislature dates from 1859. In that year two distinct but

correlative sentiments became universal in Germany. One of these was the

insecurity of the Fatherland from external attack, owing to the defects

of the military organisation; the other was a revival of the old desire

for a closer union among the States of the Confederation, with a view to

the ultimate unification of Germany. These sentiments were shared by

both the King and the Parliament of Prussia; but the King was most

influenced by the first of these sentiments, the lower Chamber by the

second. The Chamber desired that the Government should immediately

commence measures for the unification of Germany—measures which could

only be carried out by “mediatising” or sweeping away the lesser courts.

The King, an honourable and conscientious man, declined to attack the

rights of the other Sovereign Princes of Germany, but addressed himself

with zeal to the improvement of the military resources of his own State.

The result of military investigation proved that, under the existing

system of only three years’ service, the average training of the

soldiers was too short to perfect them in the use of the arms of

precision, and the new manœuvres thereby rendered necessary, by which

the fortunes of every battle are now determined. Hence the Government,

acting upon the report of a committee appointed to investigate the

matter, ordered that the minimum period of military service should be

lengthened from three years to five: a regulation which, the

conscription being kept up at its previous amount, also augmented the

numerical strength of the army. When the Chambers met in 1860, the lower

House made great opposition to the part of the budget which related to

the additional expenditure thus rendered necessary; but they allowed it

to pass for that year only. At the same time they carried a motion

_against_ the Government, urging the Government to adopt a “strong

policy,” with the view of promoting the unification of the Fatherland

under the leadership of Prussia. Averse as the King was to adopt a

course of action inimical to the rights of the other German Courts, the

Government could not fail to see that, if the Chamber were thus resolved

upon aggression, it furnished an additional reason why the Prussian army

should be kept in a state of efficiency. As the Prime Minister observed,

it is ridiculous for a State to adopt a “strong policy” without having a

strong army to back it. Accordingly in the following year the obnoxious

item again made its appearance in the Budget. The opposition of the

Lower Chamber became more vehement than ever: but again the military

estimates were allowed to pass provisionally, and with a distinct

intimation to the Government that nothing would induce the Chamber to

sanction the vote in the following year.

Thus, last year, the affair came to a crisis. The Lower Chamber or House

of Commons struck out of the Budget the sum required for the increase of

the army made in 1859 by the prolongation of the term of service. The

Upper Chamber replaced it. But on the Budget thus amended, or rather

thus restored to its original form, being returned to the Lower Chamber

for its approval, the Chamber refused to pass it. Thus the country was

left without any Budget at all. In this dilemma the Government decreed,

that as no Budget had been passed, their only course was to fall back

upon the Budget voted by the Chambers in the previous year (which

contained the allowance for the increase of the army), and the taxes

have been levied accordingly.

It is curious to observe that both the Government and the Lower Chamber

appeal to the Constitution in support of their totally opposite views.

One article of the Prussian Constitution, as revised ten years ago,

decrees that the Upper Chamber shall have no power to alter, but simply

to reject, the Budget. Another article decrees that the Budget shall be

treated as an ordinary legislative enactment: and for all such

enactments it is decreed that they cannot become valid without the

united consent of the two Chambers and of the Crown. It is also decreed

by the Constitution, that in the event of no Budget being passed, the

Budget of the previous year shall continue in force. In regard to what

actually took place, the Lower Chamber can maintain that the

Constitution was violated by the Upper Chamber _altering_ (it is allowed

they had the power to _reject_) the Budget. But that is a question

between the two Houses with which the Government has nothing to do. The

only fact which the Government had to deal with was, that no Budget was

passed. (And obviously the result would have been the same if the Upper

Chamber, instead of altering the Budget, had simply rejected it.)

Accordingly, no Budget having been passed, the Budget of the previous

year continued in force in virtue of the Constitution itself. It is a

mistake, therefore, to suppose that any Bill of Indemnity is required by

the Government. The levying of taxes during the past year, to the amount

of the previous Budget, was no special act of theirs, but was enjoined

by the Constitution. We extremely regret, therefore, to see that the

Prussian Deputies appear resolved to act as if the Government had

committed an actual violation of the constitution,—which most certainly

it has not done.

While the King and Parliament of Prussia are thus demonstrating how much

mischief may be occasioned even by good intentions—by a simple-hearted

but dull-witted desire on either side to do what is right—and thereby

destroying the high prestige which once made the hegemony of Germany

appear to be the natural reversion of Prussia, the other great leading

Power in Germany is displaying a broad freedom, frank constitutionalism,

and statesmanlike ability, which are winning for her universal

admiration and respect. Despotism has been but a recent and transitory

phenomenon in the history of Austria. It ought to be remembered that

members of the House of Hapsburg were the first royal champions of

political reform in Europe. Not to go back to the fourteenth and

fifteenth centuries, when the Estates of Austria enjoyed an amount of

influence second only to that possessed by the Parliament of England;

the Grand-Duke Leopold immortalised himself by his bold and thoughtful

reforms in Tuscany, which, though established nearly a century ago, were

cherished by his subjects as in unison with the times even down to the

present day. The Emperor Joseph II. played a similar part in the history

of Austria, exhibiting a liberality of opinion so ardent, and in those

days so singular, that he was regarded in most quarters as an eminently

rash, though amiable and philanthropic theorist. He commenced the work

of reform without any pressure from below, and he trusted to regulate

and complete the work happily by placing himself at its head. The wild

outburst of the French Revolution of 1789, which startled and checked

Pitt in his projects of Parliamentary Reform, produced a similar effect

in other countries; and with reluctance and regret the Austrian Emperor

paused in his work of liberalising the administration, and the long war

with France diverted the thoughts of his successor into another channel.

Francis-Joseph has resumed the work which fell incomplete from the hands

of Joseph II. He has also undone at a stroke the project of autocratic

centralisation, which was in part a mistake, and in part a lamentable

but necessary consequence of the revolutionary contests of

1848–49—which, it ought to be remembered, proved fatal to the liberties

of the people in France not less than in Austria. It is only within the

last fifteen years that the internal government of Austria assumed that

despotic form which has been so injurious to the character of the House

of Hapsburg in free countries like ours. While France still groaned

under the old regime which was overthrown in 1789—while she bled under

the atrocious despots of the Republic, or was held in chains under the

brilliant tyranny of Napoleon I.—the subjects of the Austrian crown

enjoyed personal rights and local institutions which, in comparison,

were perfect freedom. No State, during the long war with France,

received so many deadly blows as Austria; yet all those blows were

firmly sustained, and those reverses nobly retrieved, by the steady and

gallant loyalty of its subjects. It was the practical freedom and good

government enjoyed by the Austria peoples which prevented the sundering

of an empire above all others most liable to be split up under the

effects of great reverses, and which rallied the noble races of the

Tyrol and Hungary around the throne of their sovereign in the gloomiest

hours of the empire. The Emperor Francis-Joseph is now doing his

best—wisely and bravely—to retrieve the mistakes, and obliterate from

memory the stern necessities of the recent past. And he is already

reaping his reward in a revival on the part of his people of the old

loyalty which formerly so brightly illustrated the annals of Austria.

These happy changes in Austria have produced a corresponding change of

public feeling towards her in this country. Four years ago, the epithet

“Austrian” was devised by the Liberals as the most telling which could

be employed against the Conservative Government. It was purely an

“invention of the enemy;” for the Conservative Government showed no

special favour to Austria, but only found in her a Power desirous of

peace, and willing to make concessions; whereas they rightly discerned

in the French Government a fixed resolve to force on a war, and to evade

all attempts at a compromise. But who would use the same epithet as

opprobrious now? Lord Palmerston himself, who more than any British

statesman has acted an unfriendly part towards Austria, now goes out of

his way to attend a dinner to Baron Thierry at Southampton, and to

express himself in the most friendly terms towards that Government.

Austria, in truth, during the last three years, has been doing more for

the spread of constitutional government than all the other Governments

of the Continent put together. The French Government has felt itself

compelled to follow in her wake—first, by allowing freedom of debate to

the Chamber of Deputies; and, secondly, by abandoning the right to open

“extraordinary credits” on the mere will of the Sovereign; the example

in both cases having first been practically given in the new Austrian

Constitution. Unhappily the press of France has still to envy the

freedom so fully enjoyed by the journals of Austria.

If such has been the influence produced on other countries by the

enlightened principles of government now in operation at Vienna, they

have not failed to produce an equally powerful effect upon public

feeling in Germany. Prussia, once so popular, is falling behind,

grumbling; while Austria, without showing any unfriendly rivalry with

Prussia, is completely outstripping her in wisdom and liberality of

policy. For some years past the Prussian Government has been talking of

the necessity of reforming the Germanic Diet, yet without proposing any

definite remedy for its defects: last year Austria, without any palaver,

quietly tabled a proposal which would most effectually liberalise the

Diet, and in the best of all ways. At present the Diet consists entirely

of delegates from the respective Governments of the Confederated

States,—in fact, it simply represents the Courts; but alongside of the

present Diet Austria proposes that another “House” be constituted, the

members of which shall be chosen by the Parliaments of the different

States; so that, while the existing Diet represents the Courts, the new

body would represent the people of Germany. This proposal was adopted by

a majority of the Committee of the Diet; but Prussia, instead of being

foremost in welcoming such a project, as from her professions might have

been expected, sulked—and not only sulked, but raged against the

proposal, and hinted that she would even employ force to resist its

adoption. As the Diet, however, has declined to accept the resolution of

their Committee, the Austrian plan of reform is at present in abeyance;

and Prussia, desirous to regain the initiative, now talks of outbidding

Austria in the liberality of her proposals. Nevertheless, Prussia has

appeared to great disadvantage in this act of rivalry. In truth, it is

impossible not to recognise the superiority in statesmanship and breadth

of views in the Austrian Government and legislators compared with those

of Prussia. And the Prussians must be blind indeed if they do not see

that the mingled folly and dogmatism which, scorning compromise, has now

brought constitutional government to a dead-lock at Berlin, as well as

the opposition which, from motives of jealousy, the Prussian Government

is offering to the reform of the Diet, is rapidly destroying their

prestige in Germany, and is making many an eye now turn to Vienna, which

formerly looked for a leader of the united Fatherland in the House of

Hohenzollern.

The great embarrassment which still hangs round the Austrian Government

is the refusal of the Hungarians to join with the other sections of the

empire in sending representatives to the Reichsrath, or Imperial

Parliament. The prospect of the Hungarians foregoing their demand for a

wholly separate administration is better than it was, yet still is not

so great as the friends alike of Austria and of Hungary could desire. A

separate administration for Hungary, while all the other parts of the

empire are represented in the Reichsrath, would never work. The

Hungarians must either desire it as a step towards entire separation

from Austria, or else they are making a mistake. And if they desire to

separate from the German, Polish, Sclavonian, and other nationalities

which constitute the Austrian empire, the best or only issue to which

they can look forward is union with a similar medley of certainly not

superior races, in a Confederation of the Danube. We do not see what the

Hungarians would gain even if the issue were accomplished in a manner

the most favourable for them; but if we take into account the many

formidable opposing obstacles, and the probability that the expectations

of the Hungarians would be considerably disappointed, the only judgment

at which we can arrive is, that the Hungarians are much better as they

are, and would act wisely in frankly accepting for themselves the

liberal constitution which is already in operation in the other parts of

the empire. The Magyars are men of high spirit, great ability, and

perhaps the most eloquent speakers in Europe. Moreover, they will count

fully fourscore votes in the Reichsrath: surely, then, they need have no

fear of not having their fair proportion of influence in the

assembly,—the greater likelihood is that they would have too much.

The Hungarian question is a misfortune for all Europe. For, until it is

settled, there can be no pacific solution of the Venetian question. As

long as Hungary remains in a state of sullen rebellion, the cession of

Venetia to Italy would only bring an enemy close to the heart of

Austria, and permit a direct co-operation between the Hungarians and

their “sympathisers” in Italy. But if Hungary were reconciled, and were

again playing her part loyally as an integral portion of the Austrian

empire, we believe that the Austrian Government would no longer hesitate

to rid themselves of the Venetian difficulty, even though the

Quadrilateral is invaluable to them as the most impregnable frontier and

position in Europe.

There is still one year more in which a happy solution of both of these

serious questions may be attained. Austria has still a year for

negotiating with the Hungarians, without the interference of hostile

Powers. Italy is in no position to provoke a conflict with Austria for

the possession of Venetia. Her old “ally” France has now turned against

her, so unceremoniously that even the Italian Government, so ready to

hope all things, can no longer mistake the Imperial intentions. The fall

of Garibaldi has removed the only fear which Napoleon had before his

eyes. Garibaldi was a name of power not only in Italy, but in Europe;

and it was at any time within the range of possibility that a great

movement would arise under his leadership, which would either compel the

French to evacuate Italy, or produce a conflict which would endanger

Napoleon’s position in France, and rupture the sagacious policy by which

he vibrates to and fro between despotism and revolution, without wholly

breaking with either. There is no man in Italy—we might say in

Europe—who can do that now. Napoleon is at ease, and snubs the Italian

Government with little ceremony. For not only has Garibaldi been removed

from the scene, but the prestige of Victor Emmanuel has at the same time

received a serious blow. Aspromonte will never be forgotten—in many

quarters never forgiven. Rattazzi has, in consequence, been

ignominiously overthrown; and in Southern Italy the shooting of the

great national hero has given increased force to the discontent with the

King’s Government. France now kneels securely on the breast of Italy,

and Napoleon does not abandon his hope of being able to break up the new

kingdom, and throw Italy back into a state of disunion. There is nothing

now for Italy but to improve and consolidate her internal condition, and

await the course of events; which, if she play her part wisely, will

force the French Emperor to come to her terms, in order that he may

profit by her help. One advantage the Italians have certainly derived

from recent events: they now know that they must rely only on

themselves, and that they have no concessions to expect from the French

Emperor but such as they can make it for his interest to yield. The

Government, although receding somewhat from the bold and manly position

taken up by the late Foreign Minister, General Durando,[10] has at least

desisted from those vain repetitions by which it formerly hoped to

soften the heart of the Emperor. They are now resolved to take the

matter into their own hands, and to make themselves strong enough to

enforce their rightful claims. In his address to the King on New Year’s

Day, the President of the Deputies said that the Chamber was deeply

impressed with the necessity of reorganising and arming the country, and

did not hesitate to add—“When we have an army of 400,000 men, and a

chief like you, Sire! we shall see if any Power will dare to gainsay our

claims to have our own.” The Italians are in the right track now; but

they will find that before they are ready to enforce the evacuation of

Rome, Napoleon will anticipate a hostile collision by timeously

bargaining to cede to them their capital in return for renewed

co-operation between the two Governments.

In the neighbouring peninsula a revolution has taken place which

startled Europe by its unexpectedness, and which may by-and-by give rise

to important consequences. For the present, however, no such

consequences attend the movement. The Greeks have been orderly,

peaceable, and discreet; and although we entertain no doubt that this

movement will ere long extend itself at the expense of Turkey, and will

hasten the final disruption of the Ottoman Empire, we trust that the

Greeks will continue to act with prudence, and not compromise their

fortunes by hasty efforts to revive a Panhellenic kingdom. Their choice

of Prince Alfred to be their new King—the founder of a dynasty whose

territories would soon comprise all Greece, and the isles alike of the

Adriatic and the Ægean—was a great compliment to England, and a proof

that the quick sagacity of their race has survived amidst the decay of

many nobler powers. It was an instinct, a universal emotion, which

declared that they would have no King but Alfred of England; and that

instinct was as correct as if the question had been debated in popular

assembly for a twelvemonth before. Prince Alfred comes of a good stock,

and has had an excellent training; and England is the Power who could,

if she would, either assist or oppose the Greek revolution more

effectually than any other. England is the stanchest ally of the Porte;

but the Greeks knew that they could reckon also upon our still greater

attachment to freedom; and, moreover, that if they did secure our

alliance, they should not have to pay for it, as their neighbours in

Italy had to pay France. Still more, England is commercial, full of

capital and enterprise, and the Greeks might reasonably conclude that if

our Prince became their King, the bleak hills and deserted harbours of

the Morea would soon bloom with verdure, or teem with new life. What

they will do now that they are disappointed in their hopes and unanimous

desire, we do not know. It is certainly a hard thing for a people that

they should be checked in the choice of a King on account of a treaty

which they had no hand in making. Were Prince Alfred to become their

King, his kingdom probably would ere long rise into an influential place

in Europe; but certainly the vacant throne possesses no such attractions

as would lead us to desire the annulment of the treaty which forbids it

to be filled by an English Prince. The choice of Prince Alfred by the

Greeks, however, has had the good effect of checking any dreams of

ambition which may have been entertained by Russia, by inducing her to

adhere to the treaty, instead of putting forward Prince Leuchtenberg as

a candidate for the throne. Important as may be the issues likely to

flow from this outburst of new life on the part of Greece, the only

matter of any consequence to us at present is the proposed cession to it

of the Ionian Islands by Her Majesty’s Government. The cession is to be

made only upon certain conditions, and therefore may never take place at

all. If the Greeks do not care to comply with these conditions, or if

the Ionian people prefer to remain under our rule, that is their

concern: and our Government will at least have given proof that its

retention of the Ionian Islands does not proceed from a grasping

selfishness, but simply (in fulfilment of the trust reposed in us by the

other Powers in 1815) to prevent those islands falling into bad hands.

In a few years hence, at most, there can hardly fail to be hostilities

on the Adriatic, whether between Austria and Italy, or between the Porte

and some of its provinces, not unassisted by other Powers; and in such a

case our possession of the Ionian Islands would be very embarrassing to

us, unless it were known and felt by every one that we remained there

only in discharge of a duty to Europe which profited us nothing. Times

are greatly altered since 1815: neither France nor Russia has the least

chance of ever again being left in possession of Corfu and its sister

islands. With a united Italy on one side of the Adriatic, and the

growing maritime power of Greece on the other—States which can hardly be

enemies, but ought to be firm allies—there is small chance of an

extraneous Power being allowed to establish itself in the basin of the

Adriatic. Nor, in these times when the principle of nationality is the

foremost regulating force in politics, is it likely that Europe would

remain indifferent to so flagrant a violation of that principle, as well

as of common justice.

As France has her hands full in Mexico, and is waiting till the pear is

ripe in Germany, we may count upon another year of peace in Europe. We

regard with no jealousy the intervention of France in Mexico. It cannot

possibly do us harm; and if the result of the intervention be to raise

Mexico to new life and productiveness, the world may congratulate itself

on the happy change. Meanwhile, it acts as a diversion, and turns the

military ambition of France away from Europe; so that for another year

we may take our ease or follow our industry, without fearing to be

disturbed by any serious hostilities. Still there is no assured

tranquillity; we shall have no Long Peace such as the last generation

enjoyed; and for many years to come the country is likely to feel the

advantage of keeping its naval and military resources in a state of

thorough efficiency.

In a few days Parliament will meet, and already the usual rumours and

speculations are current as to the programme of the Ministry. It is very

safe to say that there will be nothing in the Speech from the Throne to

provoke a conflict. The most prominent feature of the Speech will

doubtless be the paragraphs which relate to the great distress in the

manufacturing districts, and the admirable spirit with which it is borne

by the sufferers and alleviated by the wise munificence of the other

classes of the community. There will be an expression of regret for the

continuance of the lamentable contest in America, and a hope that it

will soon terminate. The country will be congratulated on the

extraordinary vitality of its trade and commerce, indicated by the Board

of Trade returns, despite the unparalleled disaster which has befallen

our greatest branch of industry; and the commercial treaty with France

will come in for another laudation. Nothing will be said of the new and

indefensible policy of the Government on the Danish question; but the

affairs of Greece will be alluded to in a friendly spirit. And finally,

Parliament will be congratulated on our friendly relations with all

foreign Powers, and the happy prospect of a year of tranquillity. It is

rumoured that Mr Gladstone, with his characteristic restlessness, means

to propose important changes in regard to the position of the Bank of

England; and we have no confidence that the changes proposed by a

statesman so crotchetty will be for the better. Although the subject is

not likely to be alluded to in the Royal Speech, it appears certain that

very considerable reductions are to be proposed in all branches of the

national defences. If the work of retrenchment is to be accomplished in

a right way, by studying economy without destroying efficiency, the

country will be grateful. But if the reduction in the naval and military

estimates is to be made, not by improving the organisation and

administration of these departments, but by summarily cutting them

down—by stopping the work in our dockyards, and dismissing trained

soldiers and sailors whose places will by-and-by have to be refilled by

raw recruits—it will be a recurrence to the old penny-wise pound-foolish

economy which produced the breakdown and disasters of the Crimean war.

Time will show. Meanwhile we rejoice to know that the Conservative

party, augmented alike in numbers and in prestige, is now so powerful

that it ought to be able to resist successfully any measures of wrong

policy or mistaken legislation on the part of the Government. The gains

and losses at the elections since the last change of Ministry show a net

balance of ten seats in favour of the Conservative party—two of which

are the new seats, Lancashire and Birkenhead; so that the Conservative

Ministry, which was defeated in June 1859 by thirteen votes, would now,

in similar circumstances, have a majority of five. But, in truth, the

circumstances are _not_ similar. Reform since then has been seen through

and discarded; and the feeling of the country is now so universally

Conservative, that, if in office, the Conservative party would command a

great majority. As it is, they are already so strong, that, when united,

they can determine the judgment of the House. Happily the constitution

of the State is no longer in danger. Lord Russell’s Reform Bills have

had their day, and have been consigned to the limbo of vanities. The

constitution of the Church, however, is still an object of virulent and

persevering attack; and we trust that the Conservative party will not

relax its vigilance and energy from an over-confidence in its successes

of last session. Let them remember East Kent, where they threw away an

important seat by sheer remissness and mismanagement, and not allow

reverses to befall them in Parliament from a like cause. Church

questions are now the great battle-field between Conservative and

Liberal. Let the Opposition strain every nerve to convert the drawn

battle in Church-rates last year into a crowning and decisive victory;

so that the work of Radical innovation be finally brought to an end, and

that the Conservative party may find its last difficulties vanquished

even before it quits its present position on the Opposition benches, and

enters upon the pleasurable responsibilities of office, which so soon

await it, and of which it promises to have a long term.

_Printed by William Blackwood & Sons, Edinburgh._

-----

Footnote 1:

‘Five Months on the Yang-tsze.’ By Thomas Blakiston, Captain, R.A.

Footnote 2:

_Vide_ the confession of one of the Taeping leaders, named Tien-teh,

published in the ‘Pekin Gazette’ of May 1852.

Footnote 3:

‘Le Pere Lacordaire,’ par le Comte de Montalembert. Paris, 1862.

Footnote 4:

‘Lady Morgan’s Memoirs: Autobiography, Diaries, and Correspondence.’

London: W. H. Allen & Co.

Footnote 5:

The accession to the Swedish throne is restricted by law to the male

line, and a recent proposal to abrogate this law in favour of the

King’s only child, a daughter, has not met with success. Nevertheless,

her husband, especially if King of Denmark, would almost to a

certainty be made King also of Norway and Sweden.

Footnote 6:

‘Speculations on the Future,’ June 1856, pp. 736–7.

Footnote 7:

See M. Hall’s reply to the Prussian Government, dated Nov. 6, 1862.

Footnote 8:

The Danish Minister of Foreign Affairs rightly calls this “an

important sacrifice extorted by the force of circumstances.” For it is

to be remembered that the Diet of Frankfort has no right to interfere

with the sovereign powers of any member of the Confederation. The

final Act of Vienna describes the Confederation as composed of

“sovereign and independent” States, the union of which had precisely

for object “to guarantee the sovereign rights of each.” Accordingly,

M. Hall is right when he says (in his despatch of January 5): “The

King of Denmark is bound to fulfil faithfully his federal obligations;

but he has not surrendered to any one his right to regulate the

internal affairs of Holstein, as little as the other members of the

Confederation have done so for their States.”

Footnote 9:

In February 1861 Earl Russell wrote as follows to Lord

Cowley:—“Another plan, which was put forward in Holstein, would give

the Diets of Holstein, Schleswig, and Lauenburg equal power with

Denmark to sanction or refuse the taxes and estimates for the year.

But this plan is so cumbrous and uncertain that, if ever put into

operation, _it would only serve to paralyse the Danish monarchy_. The

Duchy of Schleswig is a Danish duchy, and although both the honour and

interest of Denmark require that Schleswig should be equitably

treated, the King of Denmark could not without danger treat with

Germany respecting the terms to be given to that duchy.”

Footnote 10:

In his circular to foreign courts on the affair of Aspromonte, General

Durando said—“The present position is no longer tenable. The whole

nation claims the capital. If Garibaldi has been resisted, it is

solely because the Government is convinced that it will attain its

end, and that France will recognise the danger of maintaining the

antagonism between the Papacy and Italy.”

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TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES

● Typos fixed; non-standard spelling and dialect retained.

● Used numbers for footnotes, placing them all at the end of the last

chapter.

● Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.