The long European peace had left the armies of the Great Powers with

little except a traditional knowledge of civilised war. It is true that

part of the English army had seen service in India; a large portion of

the French troops had made campaigns in Algeria; and the Russians had

for years carried on a desultory warfare in Circassia. But none of these

theatres of operations had been of a kind to serve as schools of

training for encounters with a disciplined foe. Nor had they developed

amidst the officers that high talent for superior commands to which

either country could turn with confidence. Accordingly, the English fell

back upon their traditions of the old wars of Wellington, as embodied in

his friend Lord Raglan. Whether he was likely to make a great general or

not, it was impossible for anybody to say, for his career had not been

such as to offer any field for the display of the talents requisite in a

commander. Sixty-six is not perhaps the most favourable age for a first

essay in any walk in life. But it was known that he was accustomed to

military business; that his conciliatory and courteous manners would be

of great service in an allied army, and that his rank and dignity would

ensure the respect necessary for the maintenance of our proper position

in the alliance; while, if he had not commanded armies himself, he had

been intimate with him whom we regarded as the commander without a peer.

The French had no available relics of the wars of the First Empire; and

if any such had existed, there were other claimants to be considered,

namely, those soldiers of fortune to whom the Emperor was under

obligations for their share in the _coup d’état_. The claims of St

Arnaud surpassed all others. He was a frothy, vainglorious, gallant man,

who had never shown capacity for any operation more considerable than a

raid against the Arabs. His published letters breathe a high ambition

and spirit of enterprise, but do not reveal any rare military quality.

Lord Russell himself could not be more ready to take the lead in any

description of onerous undertaking. But his self-confidence seems to

have had no deeper root than vanity; for, whereas his letters to his

relations are full of the great part he is playing, or means to play,

neither his acts, nor the official records of his doings as Commander of

the French army, corroborate the views of his own pre-eminence which he

imparted to his family. Mr Kinglake drily accounts for the selection of

this commander by saying that he was ambitious of leading the

enterprise, and that “the French Emperor took him at his word,

consenting, as was very natural, that his dangerous, insatiate friend,

should have a command which would take him into the country of the Lower

Danube.” If it is by this intended we should infer that the wily

potentate expected the climate to disagree with him, the anticipation

was fulfilled; for a frame already weakened by long disease broke up

entirely under the assault of the fever of Varna. The Russians possessed

a fine old remnant of antiquity in Prince Paskiewitch, which was

furbished up, and did very well till, meeting with a mischance before

Silistria, at the outset of the war, he vanished, and the effort to

supply his place with a creditable general was not successful. As

regards military talent, then, it would not seem that either belligerent

possessed an advantage which would preclude Fortune from exercising her

proverbial function of favouring the brave.

While the English and French troops were on the way to Turkey, the

Russians had opened an offensive campaign. The method of doing this was

prescribed to them by the features of the theatre of war. The Danube,

flowing round Wallachia, turns northward and meets the Pruth, so as to

include between the two rivers and the sea a narrow strip; the part of

which, north of the Danube, is a Russian province, Bessarabia, and that

south of the Danube a Turkish province, the Dobrudja. Should the

Russians seek to pass into Turkey through Wallachia, they would lend a

flank to an attack from Austria, if she were to carry her hostility to

the point of war, and their troops would be very critically placed

between Austrian and Turkish foes. But by advancing along the strip the

Russians passed at once from Russian to Turkish territory; while the

Danube covered their right flank from Austria. Still, in order to

proceed beyond the Dobrudja in the direction of the Balkan, and thence

towards Constantinople, as they had done with such signal success in

1829, it was indispensable that they should begin by taking

Silistria—and more than ever indispensable now that the Allies had

command of the Euxine. Accordingly, the opening of the campaign was

marked by the siege of Silistria by the Russians.

Although it soon appeared that Silistria was bravely defended, it was

not expected that the fortress could hold out long. And therefore, in

anticipation of such decisive movements as those of 1829, the first

intention of the Allies was to fortify Gallipoli, thus securing the

Dardanelles as a channel of supply, and the Chersonese peninsula as a

secure base from whence to operate in Turkey. But it soon appeared that

Russia was stumbling at the first obstacle. Gallipoli, therefore, ceased

to be of present importance; and the next idea was to transport the

armies to that point from whence they could most speedily meet the

enemy. And that point was evidently Varna.

Mr Kinglake chronicles two facts relating to this period, not hitherto

published, and the knowledge of both of which he probably derived

(certainly of one) from Lord Raglan’s papers. The first is the project

of St Arnaud to obtain command of the Turkish forces. How this was

defeated is recorded in one of Mr Kinglake’s most characteristic

passages, where the lively, pushing, aspiring Marshal finds his

confidence in his own scheme suddenly evaporating before the grave

dignified courtesy of Lord Stratford, and the mildly implied disapproval

of Lord Raglan. The other is, that, after the embarkation was agreed on,

St Arnaud suddenly announced, that he should move his army by land to

the south of the Balkan; and that, according to his plan, the English

should take the left of the proposed strategical line, and therefore be

farthest from their supplies coming from sea. This scheme, also, he

relinquished; but the fact is notable, first, as showing the propensity

to take what advantage he could at the expense of his ally; and

secondly, as correcting the view of his own predominance and superior

earnestness for action, conveyed in his private correspondence and in De

Bazancourt’s narrative.

The armies landed at Varna, and a campaign in Bulgaria was expected. “My

plan is,” quoth St Arnaud, “to save the fortress, and to push the

Russians into the Danube.” He tells his brother in Paris, that the

operation of moving to aid Silistria will be hazardous, for the Russians

may come down on his right and rear, seize the road of Varna and

Pravadi, and cut him off from the sea. “But, be easy,” he says

consolingly, “I have taken my precautions against the manœuvre, and I

will defeat it.” Not difficult to defeat, one might think, since the

enemy who should attempt it must be commanded by a lunatic. However,

while the Allies were still waiting in vain for the means of transport

to take the field, their difficulties and projects were ended by an

unlooked for incident. The Russians, finding the outermost barrier of

Turkey impregnable, raised the siege, and withdrew across the Danube.

The immense amount of military reputation which they thereby lost was

placed with interest to the credit of the Turks. But the position in

which the Allied Generals found themselves, thus hurrying to save a

fortress which saved itself, and left without an enemy, was extremely

bewildering. St Arnaud seems characteristically to have imagined that

the Russians were frightened by his reputation into retreat. “They fly

me,” he says, while lamenting the loss of a triumph for himself and his

army, which he had contemplated as certain. Not only the Generals but

their Governments were embarrassed and mortified at being thus baulked.

The Emperor’s object could not be attained by mere success without

glory. The British people, already impatient of delays, the causes of

which, though inevitable, they could not understand, were clamorous for

action. Nor did they content themselves with insisting that something

should be done. They indicated the line of action. Urged, as Mr Kinglake

contends, by the press, they shouted with one voice for an attack on

Sebastopol, and this measure the Government enjoined Lord Raglan to

execute. The French Government did not urge St Arnaud to propose the

step; but, if the English were willing for it, he was not at liberty to

withhold his consent. Two questions occur here: was the Government right

in thus ordering the commander of the army to take a step to which his

own judgment might be opposed? and was the step thus indicated a wise

one?

Now, Mr Kinglake seems to think, that if the Government was justified in

controlling its General, it was only because its army was acting in

concert with that of another power, and was dependent on the aid of the

fleets.

“In common circumstances, and especially where the whole of the troops

to be engaged are under one commander, it cannot be right for any

Sovereign or any Minister to address such instructions as these to a

General on a distant shore; for the General who is to be intrusted

with the sole command of a great expedition must be, of all mankind,

the best able to judge of its military prudence, and to give him

orders thus cogent is to dispense with his counsel.”

We, on the other hand, think that the selection of the territory which

is to be the scene of operations, should always rest with the

Government, and for this reason, that the selection must depend even

more on political than on military considerations. Suppose, for

instance, that the Allied generals had desired to follow the enemy over

the Danube, it is evident that it would be of vast importance in the

campaign that would follow, whether Austria should be friendly, or

neutral, or hostile. But which she would be was a matter of which the

Generals could only be informed through their Governments, who must

possess the best information attainable on the subject. And again, the

effect of the invasion of the Crimea on Austrian counsels, on Russian

designs, and on English and French interests, were all political

considerations, to be decided by the Governments, and not by the

Generals. But, the territory fixed on, the manner of operating therein

should be left to the Commander—and this the British Government did.

With regard to the other question, Mr Kinglake appears to think that,

after the Russians had evacuated the Principalities (as they did

immediately on re-crossing the Danube), there was no further ground for

continuing the war, and that a naval blockade would have forced her to

conclude peace. But to have forced her to make peace, returning to the

_statu quo_, would by no means have answered our ends, for it would have

left her to repeat the aggression on a more favourable opportunity, with

the advantage of better understanding the conditions of success. That

she would have consented at that time to give any pledge for the

security of Turkey, is incredible, if we consider the course taken by

her diplomatists at the conferences in the following year, when she had

suffered so severely. But to capture Sebastopol and its fleet, would

give us the security we wanted, and the pressure of the blockade might

then be depended on for ending the war. The question then, in our

judgment, resolves itself into this: Was there a reasonable hope of at

once succeeding in the object of the invasion; and was common foresight

exercised in providing for the possibility of failure?

Events have answered the last question. Due provision was not made for

the possibility of a first failure. The country was aghast at the

position in which the army found itself; and we think that, in making

the statement we are about to quote, Mr Kinglake is recording a state of

opinion, which, though perfectly just, and always maintained to be just

in these pages, both during and after the war, had no existence at the

time he speaks of.

“Those who thought more warily than the multitude foresaw that the

enterprise might take time; but they also perceived that even this

result would not be one of unmixed evil; for if Russia should commit

herself to a lengthened conflict in the neighbourhood of Sebastopol,

she would be put to a great trial, and would see her wealth and

strength ruinously consumed by the mere stress of the distance between

the military centre of the empire and the south-westernmost angle of

the Crimea.”

All this is true; so true that Russia would have done well to leave

Sebastopol to its fate, rather than make those efforts to maintain it

which were so ruinous. Moreover the Crimea is, from its geographical

circumstances, always the most favourable point of Russian territory for

the operations of an enemy who commands the sea. Its form of an extended

peninsula renders it vulnerable at many points; it does not afford the

means of supplying the force necessary for its defence; and the supplies

and reinforcements, having to pass through a region that is always a

desert and sometimes a swamp, must be despatched with vast expense and

loss. The conditions of the theatre of operations selected were then all

in our favour; it only remained to provide adequately for the chances of

war, to render the enterprise judicious.

But there was no thought except of speedy success. Beyond a triumphant

landing, battle, and assault, no man looked. It was a piece of national

gambling where an army was staked upon the turn of the cards;

inexcusable, therefore, even had the chances been still more in our

favour.

Still the chances in our favour were great. The Russian force in the

Crimea was inferior in numbers. Sebastopol might have been captured with

the co-operation of the fleets. That co-operation was a main element of

success. We were deprived of it by Mentschikoff’s stroke of sinking his

ships, so as to block the harbour and exclude the fleets. Was this a

step, the possibility of which the Government of a great maritime nation

ought to have omitted from its calculations? It was not difficult—it was

even obvious—to anticipate that a fleet otherwise useless might thus be

turned to account.

That the invasion was politically a fortunate step, we have no doubt.

All the sufferings, all the losses, all the expense, and all the

discontent at home, could not prevent the course of affairs from turning

ultimately to our advantage, because the distresses of the enemy were

far greater. Russia at the end of the war was absolutely prostrate,

while England was only beginning to handle her vast and increasing

resources. But this, as it was never contemplated, is beside the purpose

of estimating the wisdom of the people and the Government who committed

the armies to the enterprise. The Government is obnoxious to the charge

of not providing for a contingency that ought to have been foreseen, by

furnishing the means for sustained operations. And the Government might,

in great measure, exonerate itself at the expense of the nation. For

years before, no Member of Parliament could have proposed an increase on

the estimates in order to render the army an efficient engine of war,

without being covered with obloquy. At that time, what troops we had

were barely tolerated by the people. Considering all things, we cannot

think the step wise. But we are very strongly of opinion that, as a

means of coercing Russia, it was fortunate.

Many conferences between the Allied Generals took place at Varna, and on

the voyage. No pictures can differ more widely than those of the

attitude of St Arnaud on these occasions, as drawn on the one hand by

himself and De Bazancourt, on the other by Mr Kinglake. In his own

letters, and in the veracious French Chronicle, he is the moving spirit

of the enterprise—he “dominates the discussion”—he infuses life into

everybody—nothing checks him except the slowness of the English. He is

feared by the Russians, admired by the British, adored by the French. Mr

Kinglake, on the contrary, represents him as being in council without

decision and without weight; glad to solve his own difficulties by

deferring to Lord Raglan; forming plans merely to abandon them; and

painfully conscious that he has not the hold on the respect of his own

army necessary to enforce his authority. He had become strongly

impressed with the idea that a landing would be best effected at the

mouth of the Katcha. It would be nearer Sebastopol. The position on the

Alma would thus be avoided; and the march over plains, where it might be

difficult to find water, would be unnecessary. On the other hand a

reconnoissance made by Lord Raglan and Sir John Burgoyne, with the

French Generals, showed that the mouth of the valley was narrow, that

the troops as they landed would be exposed to a flanking fire from guns

which would be, by their position, secure from the counter-fire of the

ships, and that the enterprise might be opposed by the whole Russian

army. These objections seemed to Lord Raglan so strong that he decided

on landing at Old Fort. The result showed the correctness of the

decision, for the landing was unopposed, and the single action of the

Alma cleared the way to Sebastopol. Nevertheless, St Arnaud, writing to

his brother after the landing, contends that he was right. “Observe,

brother,” he says, “I have a military instinct which never deceives me,

and the English have not made war since 1815.”

Mr Kinglake’s account of the disembarkation which he witnessed, of the

delay caused by the mysterious shifting, by the French, of the buoy that

was to mark the spot for the operation—of the different modes of

treating the villagers practised by the English and by the French

troops, and of the march towards the Alma, are described with the

particularity and vivacity which might be expected from so keen an

observer, and so skilful a narrator. He rightly describes the movement

as being of the nature of that proper to movable columns. It was, in

fact, like the march of a convoy, where the escort was vast, and the

conditions favourable. The conditions were favourable, because the open

nature of the country permitted the waggons, instead of straggling along

a great extent of road, on any part of which they might be attacked, to

move in compact order near the entire army. But we quite agree with him

in thinking that the Russian leader showed great incapacity and culpable

want of enterprise in suffering the march to proceed unmolested. The

country was particularly favourable to cavalry, in which arm he was

greatly superior. By incessantly threatening the left flank he would

have compelled us to show front in that direction, and the whole army

would have been obliged to halt, under penalty of witnessing the defeat

of a separated portion. We could not have closed with the force thus

menacing us, because the effort to do so would have withdrawn us from

our proper direction, and from the sea, and because, also, the enemy

could always retire under cover of his cavalry, to a new position on our

flank. If Mentschikoff could have felt secure of being able to file into

position behind the Alma, in time to oppose us there, he might have

employed his whole army in this menacing movement. He made only one

effort of the kind, that on the Bulganak, where a skirmish took place;

but the demonstration was feeble, not supported, and of no avail as a

check, because the army had always designed to halt there for the night.

Nevertheless, the precautions taken by Lord Raglan, in throwing back the

left flank, before bivouacking, to meet a possible attack of the kind,

and the consequent delay in resuming the march next morning, show how

much was to be apprehended from such a mode of harassing us as was open

to a skilful leader.

The ground on which the battle of the Alma was fought is not difficult

to understand. The plain over which the Allies advanced slopes gently

downward for a mile. At the bottom of the slope is a bank, and below the

bank a flat valley, three or four hundred yards wide, in which flows the

Alma. If, then, a person turning his back to the sea, at the mouth of

the river, moves up the Allies’ bank, he has on his right, across the

valley, for the first mile, a steep cliff, as if part of the coast-line

had turned back along the course of the river. The cliff then begins to

resolve itself into broken heights, still steep, but not impracticable.

These continue for nearly two more miles, when, the heights receding

still farther, the slope to the river becomes more gentle, and undulates

in knolls, the general character of the ground, however, being an upper

and lower line of heights, with an intermediate plateau. The ground

continues of this nature far up the stream. Everywhere the last summits

formed the edge of a plain which could not be seen from the Allies’ side

of the stream.

The Russian cavalry prevented reconnoissances which would have given

some assurance of the manner in which Mentschikoff occupied the

position. In the absence of these, maps and plans, and a distant view,

coupled with a rough estimate of the enemy’s force, were all that could

be relied on. With such data as these afforded, Marshal St Arnaud came

to confer with Lord Raglan the night before the battle; and we must say

that we think Mr Kinglake is rather hard upon the Marshal in his

description of the interview. He seems to think there was something

presumptuous in the fact of his coming with a prepared plan, bringing

with him, too, a rough sketch of it drawn on paper. Now, that such a

conference was highly necessary between two commanders about to fight a

battle in concert, nobody will deny. And it is a very good thing, on

such occasions, to have a plan constructed on the probabilities, because

it serves as a basis for discussion. The Marshal’s plan was founded on

the conjecture, that, as the plain at the top of the cliff could be

swept by the guns of the ships, a space would be left near the sea

unoccupied by the Russians. Into that space he proposed to push two

divisions (Bosquet and the Turks), by two roads that led to it up the

cliff. The remaining divisions were to advance against the Russian

front; and he calculated that they would occupy so much of that front

that the movement of the British, forming the left of the Allies, would

be against the right flank of the enemy.

Such was the plan that the Marshal brought to discuss with Lord Raglan.

But it seems that if he came with the hope of getting any suggestions or

ideas in exchange, he was disappointed. “Without either combating or

accepting the suggestion addressed to him, he simply assured the Marshal

that he might rely upon the vigorous co-operation of the British army.

The French plan seems to have made little impression on Lord Raglan’s

mind. He foresaw, perhaps, that the ingenuity of the evening would be

brought to nothingness by the teachings of the morrow.” And when they

came next day into presence of the enemy, Mr Kinglake says: “If Lord

Raglan had not already rejected the French plan of a flank attack by our

forces, it would now have fallen to the ground. It had never made any

impression on his mind.” In a note he says: “It became a plan simply

preposterous as soon as it was apparent that St Arnaud would not

confront any part of the Russian army except their left wing; for to

make two flank movements, one against the enemy’s left, and the other

against his right, and to do this without having any force wherewith to

confront the enemy’s centre, would have been a plan requiring no comment

to show its absurdity.”

Now Lord Raglan’s part in the interview is meant, as recorded, to show

to his advantage. Yet we cannot think that this way of conducting

conferences can be considered as displaying talent. Anybody can appear

to conceal an opinion—even if he hasn’t got one. The Marshal might,

according to this account, justly feel himself aggrieved—first, for

having no notice taken of his plan; and, secondly, for having no grounds

afforded for acting in concert with his ally in the coming battle. Nor

do we think the plan absurd in principle, though it was erroneous in

details. If to turn one flank of an enemy is an advantage, to turn both

flanks will, in general, increase the advantage: whether it is

practicable depends on the relative length of the opposing lines. Now

the Russians had 39,000 men; the Allies had 63,000. And the English

order of battle enables our line to cover more ground than equal numbers

of the enemy. Therefore, after forming on an equal front, there would

still be at least 12,000 men disposable for the turning of each flank;

and 12,000 men on your flank is a serious matter. We say then that the

plan, which was, of course, a suggestion, to be modified according to

circumstances, was not in itself absurd in principle.

The Marshal, therefore, with Lord Raglan’s concurrence, as the French

say—but, according to Mr Kinglake, with such expectations as he might

have derived from the foregoing not very explicit interview—proceeded to

execute his part of the plan by making his right column pass close to

the sea. This was an error, for it was founded on a false assumption; he

supposed the Russian left to be nearer the sea than it really was. He

could not ascertain the truth, because, as is not uncommon in battles,

he could not make a close reconnoissance, and the plain behind the

cliff, being invisible from below, might contain an unknown number of

Russians. A computation of the forces visible would not give certain

means of judging of this point, because troops had been joining

Mentschikoff from various parts—a large detachment had come in that

morning.

The consequence, then, of this error was that more of the French line

than had been expected overlapped the Russians—so much so that those on

the extreme right never joined in the action. Moreover, they were on a

narrower front than their numbers warranted; for though three divisions

were in front, and two following them, yet the three in front formed two

lines. If the two in rear are to be considered as a reserve, it was

twice as large as is common. Thus the English only completed the front

necessary to correspond with the Russian front without overlapping it,

and their attack, therefore, was almost entirely a direct attack. The

right French column was thrown away. The next to it only engaged in a

distant artillery fire: even the third and fourth found themselves

opposed to a force inadequate to their numbers. As Mr Kinglake well

observes, if all the army had been of one nation, the direct attack

would not have been made till that on the flank had already shaken the

enemy’s line. But circumstances rendered it difficult to hold back the

English divisions. The French did nothing to be proud of in the battle.

We perfectly agree with Mr Kinglake that the official accounts and that

of De Bazancourt are mere bombastic inventions. We know that they were

opposed by numbers small in proportion to their own. That some of their

divisions showed but little _elan_ and made small progress, was evident

during the battle. And with regard to their losses, which St Arnaud

places at 1200, we do not deny that they may have lost that number of

men that day; but if they did, the cholera must have been unusually

severe on the 20th September, for there were no signs of such mortality

on the battle-field.

The English then advanced, because the French demanded support, and

because it might not have been judicious to remain longer inactive when

our allies were engaged. Our divisions therefore advanced across the

river. In doing so their order was broken by several causes. First, the

vineyards and enclosures between the troops and the river; then the

river itself; and lastly, the fact that the divisions in deploying had,

by mistaking distance, considerably overlapped. It is evident that if an

inferior army about to be attacked in position could choose how the

attack should be made, it would desire that a great part of the enemy’s

force should be directed where it would be useless, and that the

remainder should make a direct advance. This was what the Allies did.

But though there was no great generalship, the soldiership of the

English was admirable. The divisional, brigade, and regimental officers

took advantage of a sheltering rim of ground on the opposite bank to

restore some degree of order in the broken ranks, and then led them

straight up the slope in the teeth of the Russian guns. Torn by

cannon-shot at close range, and by a hail of musketry from the numerous

infantry—for here Mentschikoff had placed his heaviest masses—they

nevertheless went on in a line which, if irregular, was still

irresistible, drove the Russians back, and captured a gun. Then, being

without support, having lost heavily, and being assailed by fresh

reserves, the front line gave way and retreated down the hill. But by

this time the Duke of Cambridge’s division was across the stream and

moving up. The broken masses passed through the ranks, which closed and

advanced solidly, with the same success as the first line, and the

success was more enduring. English guns, hitherto opposed to the Russian

artillery, were now brought across the stream—they were set free to do

so partly by the progress of the French on the flank, partly by the

action of two guns that Lord Raglan had brought across the stream in the

space between the armies, and which, taking the Russian line in reverse,

caused it to fall back. The English divisions thus maintained

themselves—the heavy columns that advanced against them were repulsed

partly by artillery, partly by the fire of the line—the Russians fell

back slowly to the top of the heights, and retreated along the plain,

pursued by the fire of our horse-artillery. The English batteries then

advanced. When they reached the plateau the enemy’s masses were already

at some distance, moving towards Sebastopol. The French on the right

were coming up so deliberately that it was evident they had no thought

of molesting the enemy’s retreat, and on a proposition being made to

them to join in a pursuit they declined it.

Whether it was or was not owing to the cause to which Mr Kinglake

attributes it—namely, to the fact that the French leaders, selected as

they almost all were for their share in the _coup d’état_, were men in

whom the troops had no confidence—it is certain that the reputation of

the French army was not augmented by this action. The report of St

Arnaud paints their valour and skill in the most brilliant colours. He

does not scruple largely to exaggerate the numbers of the enemy. There

were, according to him, 40,000 Russian bayonets, 6000 cavalry, and 180

guns opposed to the Allies. The true numbers were, according to Mr

Kinglake, 36,000 infantry, 3400 cavalry, and 108 guns. The advantages of

the Russians consisted in their strong position, their superiority in

cavalry, and their 14 heavy guns. The movement of the French was

ineffective, partly from misdirection, partly from their slowness to

close with the enemy. To the English, therefore, fell a task as

difficult as that which would have fallen to them in ordinary cases had

the Russians been equal in strength to the Allies—and the battle of the

Alma is eminently an English victory.

It is evident that if the general of an inferior army can oppose one

great mass of his enemy with a small number of his troops, and is thus

at liberty to meet the remainder on equal terms, he has gained a great

point in his favour; and this Mentschikoff did. Yet we perfectly agree

with Mr Kinglake that Mentschikoff showed no talent, and did no justice

to his troops. As we have seen, he allowed the march to be unmolested.

He made no use of the time at his disposal to strengthen his position

artificially. Mr Kinglake rightly asserts this in contradiction to

official and other authorities. Fords might have been rendered

impracticable, roads obstructed, field-works thrown up, and the

advancing troops would thus have been detained under the heavy fire of

the defenders, till on closing, if they should succeed in closing, it

would be with numbers too much diminished for success. But there were no

intrenchments nor obstacles worth mentioning on the field. And we regret

to observe that Mr Kinglake, though he explains in a note that he knows

the term to be inapplicable, and that he only follows an established

precedent, talks of the position of the Russian battery as “the Great

Redoubt.” We regret it, because the impression conveyed is false to

those who do not know the truth, and irrelevant to those who do. The

only work was a bank of earth not a yard high, which partially covered

the Russian guns of position, and which was probably intended as much

for preventing them from running down the hill as for anything else.

There were no embrasures, for, as the guns looked over the bank, none

were necessary; it had not even the additional impediment of a ditch in

front, the earth which formed it being taken from spaces dug between the

guns. It was no more like a “Great Redoubt,” than it was like the Great

Wall of China. And this being the case, all such expressions as

“storming” are quite inapplicable.

It is evident that, if an army superior in numbers wishes to bring its

superiority to bear, it must outflank the enemy on one or both sides.

Which flank, then, would it have been best in the present case to turn?

The French turned the left. There was the natural temptation of

advancing over ground where the turning columns were protected by the

fire of the fleet. But they moved against an imaginary foe, and a large

part of the force might have been as well on board ship for all the

effect it had on the action. Moreover, though the turning movement was

completed, yet it had none of its legitimate effects, for the Russians

left only two guns and no prisoners. It is clear then that none of the

advantages to be expected from a successful attack in flank followed

here.

Now suppose—as there are but two flanks to an enemy, and no great things

had been done by turning one—that the manœuvre had been effected against

the other. The Allies would have moved away from the sea up the river.

The road next the sea was closed to the Russians by the ships’

broadsides. Opposite the next road, that by which Bosquet led his second

brigade, the Turks might have been left. The right of the French would

then have been where the right of the English really was, that is, in

the village of Bourliouk. And the English would have stretched so far

beyond the enemy’s right, that at least three divisions would have been

available for turning that flank. To the Russians, seeing this, only

certain alternatives would be possible: either to try to thrust

themselves between us and the sea—in which case the cliff would have

restricted them to the one road guarded by the Turks, and where any part

of their force that made the attempt would be lost if it should fail, as

it certainly would fail; or, secondly, an extension of their already

sufficiently extended line till its length corresponded with that of the

Allies, by which extension it would be fatally weakened; or, thirdly, a

movement of the entire army to the right, which would have uncovered the

Sebastopol road, and was therefore not to be thought of. Therefore the

Russians must have stood to fight on the ground they occupied, throwing

back their right wing to meet the threatened attack on their flank. The

Allied artillery should then have been massed—one portion to oppose the

great battery, one to pour a storm of shot on the right wing, the object

of attack; and the horse-artillery and one or two batteries, after

flanking the advance from their own side of the river, should have been

held ready to follow the flanking columns of attack as soon as they

should be established on the other bank. The advance, instead of being

in echelon from the right, would be in echelon from the left—the Light

Division, followed by the First and Fourth, would make the turning

movement and attack the right wing—the remaining English divisions would

advance upon the centre, and upon the angle formed by the centre and

right; and, as soon as the Russian line fronting the river should be

shaken by the front and flank attack and the reverse fire, the French

divisions advancing would find their share of the task easy. Two results

would have followed, both important—the first, that the position would

have been carried with much less loss of life—secondly, that the losses

of the Russians would have been far greater. For it is to be observed

that, by turning the left of the Russians, and interposing between them

and the sea, they were driven back along their proper line of retreat;

whereas, had the right been turned, the English left wing, pushing

obliquely across the enemy’s rear, would have reached the Sebastopol

road on the top of the plateau, and the result of that would have been

to drive the beaten troops towards the sea, and to enclose all that part

of the Russian left which should be last to retreat between our line and

the cliffs, thus capturing many prisoners. And as the enemy were

superior in cavalry, the English left must have carefully guarded

itself, during its advance, from the Russian horse, first, by our

artillery on our own side of the river, and afterwards by guns following

in support, by battalions on the left echeloned in squares, and by our

own cavalry. Many reasons, then, induce us to consider the French attack

a mistake. And the more complete turning movement which Mr Kinglake

seems, as if by authority, to ascribe to Marshal Pelissier, as what _he_

would have done—namely, “to avoid all encounter with the enemy on his

chosen stronghold by taking ample ground to their left, and boldly

marching round him”—would have been objectionable, inasmuch as it would

have left no option of retreating on Eupatoria, in case the attack

should prove unsuccessful; and no plan can be sound that does not

provide for the contingency of defeat.

Mr Kinglake modestly declines to give an opinion on the question of what

plan might have been better. But he need not have scrupled to do so, as

he deals extremely well with the technicalities of military art. His

account of the manœuvres preceding and during the battle is remarkably

clear. His discussion as to the respective merits of lines and columns

shows that he thoroughly appreciates the philosophy of the subject. But

it is not so much to the credit of his estimate of what constitutes

generalship, that he implies so great approval of Lord Raglan’s solitary

ride beyond the enemy’s front, and of his continued occupation of the

knoll there throughout the stress of the battle. Of course it would be a

great advantage to a general in every action to be able to see exactly

what was passing in rear of the enemy’s line. But it would be an

advantage only as it would give him the means of directing his own

troops with greater certainty. To see the enemy’s rear, at the expense

of losing the control of his own army, would be quite the reverse of an

advantage. And imagine the state of things if two opposing generals in a

battle should be absorbed in their efforts to pass, like two pawns at

chess, behind the opposing lines. If it had appeared to the general that

an opportunity existed for wedging a part of his force within a weak

spot of the enemy’s line, staff officers might have been sent to

ascertain the fact, while the guns and their escort required to effect

the manœuvre might have been brought from the reserve, or the nearest

available division, and posted in readiness to advance. We know that

during this excursion of Lord Raglan the English divisions were confused

for want of a controlling power to direct them. The action of the

English artillery was without unity, at a time when a concentrated fire

against the hill on which the attack was to be made would have had a

most important influence on the result. Mr Kinglake tells us that Lord

Raglan from his knoll witnessed the first advance of the troops of our

first line, and saw that they would not be able to hold their ground

because they were not supported; but adds, that he did not attempt to

apply a remedy, because no order sent by him could possibly arrive in

time to be of service. Surely this of itself might have convinced Mr

Kinglake that the general’s place was elsewhere. And we will add, that,

at the close of the struggle, our successful troops did not receive that

impulsion which none but the supreme directing authority can give, and

which was necessary to push the victory home.

But though we do not think the occasions for praising Lord Raglan are

always judiciously chosen, we thoroughly agree in Mr Kinglake’s estimate

of the character of that kind excellent gentleman and gallant soldier.

His tact, temper, and bearing were all of a kind calculated to be of

eminent service in an allied command, and secured to him at once the

attachment of his own army and the respect of the French.

Mr Kinglake has scarcely accomplished half of that task which is so

weighty, but which his qualities as a narrator have made to seem so

light. And it is because so many events yet remain to receive his

impress, that we would venture to remind him how the French army in the

Crimea, though it did not by its first achievements enhance its

reputation, yet performed many great and gallant actions. The aid which

Bosquet brought us at Inkermann, though long in coming, was effectual.

The part of the French in that battle, infantry and artillery, was

highly honourable. They often maintained terrible conflicts in the

trenches, where both sides fought well, but where the French were

victors. Their arrangements for receiving the attack on the Tchernaya

were such that the assailant never had a chance of penetrating their

lines. And their terrible losses in the final assault prove the

magnitude of the obstacles they encountered, and the ardour with which

they overcame them. But while we do not forget this, neither can we

regret that thus far Mr Kinglake has sought to redress the balance of

history, by awarding to our army its share of credit. Reputation is the

breath of its nostrils, and our allies have appeared but too desirous to

monopolise what was gained in this war.

And we also venture to observe that Mr Kinglake’s enemies—and he has

scattered in these volumes dragon’s teeth enough to produce a plentiful

crop—may find occasion to say that in praising his friends he is equally

uncompromising as in censuring his foes. Small traits of character

receive undue prominence, small merits, undue laudation; as, for

instance, when the way in which the Highland Brigade was made to drink

at the Bulganak is praised as if it were a stroke of military genius,

and where a paragraph is devoted to describing how its commander

pronounced the not very remarkable words, “Forward, 42d!” and when it is

further added, “‘As a steed that knows his rider,’ the great heart of

the battalion bounded proudly to his touch,” Mr Kinglake lets himself

slip into a style much beneath his own. But what no enemy can deny is

the extraordinary animation, clearness, sustained interest, and dramatic

as well as descriptive excellence of the work. A vast field for these

qualities yet remains—the flank march, the commencement of the siege,

the hurricane, the action of Balaklava (fine soil for dragon’s teeth),

the battle of Inkermann, the long calamities and glories of the

trenches, the death of the Czar, and of the English commander, the final

assault, and the destruction of the stronghold—into all these scenes we

shall follow Mr Kinglake, confident of seeing them treated by a great

artist.

As a concluding remark, we will say that we think no history of this war

can be complete which does not devote a chapter to the discussion of the

causes which made the British army of 1854 so different, in all except

fighting power, from the British army of 1814, as a machine of war. The

long peace, the growth of the commercial spirit, the Peace Party, the

administration of the army by the Duke of Wellington, and the influence

of the long-continued public demand for economy, must all be taken into

account before the breaking down of that machine, as to be recorded

hereafter, can be fairly and fully accounted for, and a true comparison

drawn between our military system and that of the French.

THE OPENING OF THE SESSION.

The Session has commenced under circumstances so unfavourable to the

Ministry that even their most sanguine friends are dejected. The omens

are unmistakably against them, and the auspices are corroborated by the

more palpable evidence of hard facts. The Session was barely a week old

when the first division took place, and left the Ministry in a minority.

It was a Government question, but the Opposition motion, brought forward

by Mr Peacocke, was carried by the large majority of 113 to 73. This was

a bad beginning; and, unenlightened by the result, the Ministry have

since then exposed themselves to, and undergone, two similar defeats.

The events of the same week out-of-doors brought them a worse and less

avoidable disaster. Two elections went against them. We certainly do not

claim the Cambridge election as any great triumph of Conservative

principles, but it was a blow to the Ministry. Lord Palmerston’s

reputation is deservedly great, and in not a few elections the

Ministerial candidate has escaped defeat by proclaiming himself simply a

Palmerstonian, and asserting that the Premier was as good a Conservative

as any member of the Opposition. The ex-member for Cambridge, Mr

Steuart, although returned as a Conservative, subsequently became a

“Palmerstonian;” but no sooner did his constituents obtain an

opportunity of showing their sentiments by their votes, than they

declared in favour of a Conservative who avowed himself an opponent of

Lord Palmerston. This, we say, may be called a trifle, but it is a straw

which shows which way the wind is blowing. The other electoral

contest—at Devonport—was a very different affair. In former elections

for that borough the Liberals had won the day. Moreover, owing to the

large Government dockyards, the constituency of Devonport is peculiarly

amenable to Ministerial influence. In spite of all this, the Ministerial

candidate, although strenuously backed by the whole influence of the

Admiralty, and himself a Grey to boot, has been defeated, and one of the

most stanch of Conservatives, and a thorough party-man, Mr Ferrand, has

been elected by a majority of thirty. This is a triumph for the

Opposition too remarkable to be explained away. The Government has been

defeated in its own dockyard. Driven to candour by the very magnitude of

the disaster, a Ministerial journal[11] says:—“It is a surprising

innovation. Constituencies like Devonport, where the Government is a

great employer of labourers having votes, have hitherto been considered

almost as nomination boroughs.” Even the Whigs have got sick of

“innovations” now, finding they will no longer go down with the public;

but such an innovation as that accomplished by the constituency of

Devonport must cut them to the heart. If they can no longer get their

candidates returned even in Government pocket boroughs, what are they to

do? In Ireland a Government appointment went a-begging for a year,

because no Whig member would risk the new election that must follow his

acceptance of it. It would seem that the Government are now in the same

sad predicament on both sides of the Irish Channel.

Obviously the “Conservative reaction” has entered upon a new phase. The

country is resolved to have not only a Conservative policy, but a

Conservative Ministry. At first, when it was seen that the Whig Ministry

abandoned its mischievous attempts to degrade the franchise, many

constituencies contented themselves with electing men of Conservative

tendencies, even though they gave a general support to the Government.

But this feeling is dying away; neutrality is being abandoned for active

opposition. The change is doubtless due to more causes than one. But the

chief influence in producing the change is a love of fair-play. This is

peculiarly the case in regard to the English constituencies, where

public opinion is more calm and better balanced on political questions

than it is in the sister kingdoms. There is a striking difference, we

may remark, in the modes of political feeling and action which

characterise the three great sections of the United Kingdom.

Party-spirit and religious zeal (which, though generally, are not always

coincident forces) predominate in Ireland. In Scotland, although the

ecclesiastical spirit is very strong, the peculiar characteristic of the

people in politics is their attachment to ideas pure and simple: they

are the great theorists and innovators, and will go all lengths in the

logical application of their principles. Fortunately the English

constituencies are admirable ballast, and keep straight the vessel of

the State. They care little for “ideas,” but a great deal for good and

safe government: they are businesslike and matter-of-fact, and, above

all things, are lovers of fair-play. In many an English constituency the

representation, by mutual agreement, is divided between the rival

parties. A Whig and a Tory are returned together, or two Tories and a

Whig, or one Tory and two Whigs; and in some boroughs, where there is a

great landed proprietor who owns nearly the whole area of the borough,

the duke or other magnate is allowed to name one member and the majority

of the constituency the other. This is a businesslike compromise which

aptly illustrates English character. Every one knows that property must

have a great influence, whether wielded by a territorial magnate or by a

millowner; but in assigning one seat to the magnate, the constituency

is, by a well-understood agreement, left free to choose its own man for

the other, without any interference on the part of the magnate’s

influence. In the other case (which generally occurs in counties), where

the representation is divided, equally or unequally, between the rival

political parties, the same spirit of compromise is apparent. It saves

many contested elections, and it is likewise a virtual adoption of the

principle of the representation of minorities. Scotchmen would do none

of these things: a divided representation would seem to them as good as

none. As long as any party in a Scotch constituency has a majority,

however small, it will insist upon carrying its own men. The spirit of

compromise which distinguishes English constituencies arises partly from

their love of fair-play, partly from the fact that they are not such

fervid politicians as the Scotch, and deal with politics not as an

affair of immutable principles or scientific deduction, but as an

ordinary business matter, which they decide by striking a balance of the

miscellaneous considerations which affect them. Now, that balance is

turning every day more strongly against the Liberals. The Scotch may

think it best to have Liberals in office even though they carry out a

Conservative policy. But Englishmen don’t like this. In the first place,

it is not fair. Each side should have its innings, and the Whigs have

confessedly played out their game. Office has its sweets, and John Bull

thinks that it is more than time that the Tories should get their turn

of the good things. A man cannot live upon politics any more than upon

love; and although to the leading statesmen on both sides the emoluments

of office are as nothing, the tenure of political power by one party or

the other makes a material difference to each. John Bull understands

this. Moreover, if the retention of office by the Liberals is not fair,

it is also not manly or honest. John Bull, like old George III., does

not like “Scotch metaphysics.” He does not appreciate the casuistical

reasoning by which it may be shown that a Ministry which took office to

do one thing, may stay in office to do the opposite. Since the Whigs

have given up their principles, he thinks they should also give up their

places. Doubtless too, if he takes any interest in the morals of

Whiggery (which we greatly doubt, seeing they are so purely

speculative), he must come to the conclusion that the principles of the

party are rotting so fast on the Treasury seats that it is high time to

give them an airing in the bracing atmosphere of the Opposition benches.

The country now sees that, if it had known the truth four years ago, the

present Ministry would never have been in existence. The Whigs and

Radicals overthrew the Conservative Government in 1859 by means of false

statements and false professions. It took some time before the real

state of the case could be demonstrated, but gradually it was made plain

by the conduct of the Liberals themselves. Slowly but steadily the truth

has dawned upon the constituencies: they feel that they were duped by

the present occupants of office, and they are now conscious also that

they did injustice to the Conservatives. The Whig chiefs who, before

they got into office, deemed Parliamentary Reform a matter of such

urgency that they promised to hold a special session in November in

order to pass a Reform Bill, first delayed to fulfil their promise, and

then threw up the matter altogether. The excuse which they plead is,

that they found Parliament unfavourable to any further tampering with

the constitution. But if Parliament was right, they themselves were

condemned; if it were wrong, why did they not dissolve, and appeal to

the country? Had they been in earnest, they would have dissolved: but

they knew that a dissolution would have been followed by the election of

a Parliament still more hostile to them and to their measure. And

therefore they chose rather to remain self-condemned, and to be pointed

at with the finger of scorn, by the one party as recreants, by the other

as impostors, rather than save their honour at least by the sacrifice of

office. This tells against them now. The revulsion of public feeling was

not, and could not be, immediate—for the duplicity and insincerity of

the Ministry only revealed itself by degrees; but it was certain from

the first, and has now become overwhelming. The Ministry have come to be

regarded with contempt, and every new election is taken advantage of by

the constituencies to give expression to their censure. But this is not

the whole of the change which the last four years have wrought on the

public mind. Alongside of the consciousness of the sins and demerits of

the present Ministry, there has arisen the conviction that the

principles of the Conservative party are the right ones for the country.

The constituencies now feel not only that the present Ministry is a bad

one, but that its predecessor was a good one. They have become sensible

that, if any Reform Bill were needed at all, the Bill brought forward by

Mr Disraeli was the one that best deserved to be adopted. They are now

conscious that if any change at all were requisite in the matter of

Church-rates, Mr Walpole’s Bill was well deserving of support, and that

the measure of total abolition to which the present Ministry have

pledged themselves is wholly out of the question. Finally, and for a

good while past, the country has come to see that, led away by the

misrepresentations of the Whigs, it did gross injustice to the foreign

policy of the Conservative Government. We do not know by what fatality

it was that Lord Malmesbury’s despatches on the Italian question were

not published until too late to affect the division on the vote of want

of confidence in June 1859. Had they been published earlier, we believe

the issue of that division would have been different. Every one may

remember (or may see for himself by referring to the file) the effect

which the publication of those despatches produced on the ‘Times,’ and

how the leading journal, thus enlightened as to the facts, frankly, and

without any reservation, admitted that Lord Malmesbury had been right

throughout. And certainly no one can forget how Lord John Russell, when

taking farewell of the House of Commons, took occasion—or rather made

occasion—to say that he approved of the policy of his predecessor, and

that (which is more than his colleagues could say) he had been of that

opinion from the beginning. The impression, originated and studiously

fostered by Lord Palmerston and his followers, that the Conservatives

are unfriendly to the cause of freedom and independence in Italy, is

totally unfounded. They have certainly mistrusted the disinterestedness

of the policy of the French Emperor, and have cautioned the Italian

Government against seeking to reach the height of its ambition by

machinations which would only redound to its own disadvantage: and on

both of these points the Italians themselves must now be convinced that

the warnings and advices of the Conservative statesmen were wellfounded.

At all events, taught by a bitter experience, the Italian Government is

now following the very course which the Conservatives recommended. We

may add a word on our own part. The Magazine will certainly be admitted

to be as sound an exponent of Conservatism as is to be found either in

or out of Parliament, and we can refer to our own pages to demonstrate

how heartily we have sympathised with the Italian cause, wherever it was

not marred by such secret traffickings with the French Government, as

the Italians themselves now regret and condemn; or by violations of law

which, though natural to times of revolution, may be condoned, but

cannot be approved.

The Ministerial programme for the present Session contains another

confession of errors on the part of the Government, and a fresh proof of

the wisdom of the opinions of the Conservative party. Destitute, as

usual, of the capacity to originate measures of useful legislation, the

Budget is to be brought forward early, to cover the prospective

barrenness of the Session. And what is the feature of this year’s

Budget, upon which the Ministry rely to cover their flagrant incapacity

in other matters of administration? It is a reduction of the naval and

military estimates! It is the adoption of the very course so earnestly

advocated last year by the Opposition, and so strenuously resisted by

the Government. Hardly eight months have elapsed since Lord Palmerston

and his colleagues confidently and haughtily maintained that no

reduction could be made upon the large sums voted for the support of the

national armaments, without destroying the influence and safety of the

country. Mr Disraeli, during last Session, argued strongly in favour of

making such a reduction, on the ground that so heavy an expenditure was

uncalled for, and was in reality damaging to our military power, by

trenching so deeply upon the financial resources of the State. Again and

again he pressed these views upon the Government—it was his constant

theme all through last Session; but the Government refused to accept the

warnings, and resolutely maintained that no reduction could be made.

What, then, are we to think of them now? In what respect is the attitude

of the times more favourable for a reduction now than it was eight

months ago? In so far as there has been any change, the change has been

clearly for the worse. There has been a revolution in Greece, of the

issues of which as yet we have hardly seen the beginning. Servia has

been arming, by the secret assistance of Russia; and the Danubian

Principalities, and northern provinces of Turkey generally, are in a

more unquiet state than they have been for years. And now we have a

revolution in Poland, which is throwing all Central Europe into

agitation, and furnishing fresh opportunities for the intrigues or

intervention of other Powers. So far, then, as there has been any change

in the situation since last summer, the change, we repeat, has been for

the worse. Nothing could demonstrate more strikingly than this the

consciousness of the Government that they were wrong last Session, and

that the Conservatives were right. It is a new triumph for the

Conservative party—a fresh condemnation of themselves by the Ministry.

The trump card with which the Ministry are to lead off this Session has

been stolen from the hands of the Opposition.

It is high time, indeed, that the Chancellor of the Exchequer were

retrenching his expenditure; for, weak as the Administration has been in

other respects, the management of the finances has been peculiarly

disastrous. Although the present Ministry took office with a surplus,

which they owed to their predecessors, in the two succeeding years

(1860–2) in which Mr Gladstone had the exclusive direction of the

finances, his mismanagement accumulated a deficit of four millions

sterling. Nor is this all. For in the same period Mr Gladstone

anticipated the revenue of the country to the extent of

£3,200,000,—namely, £2,000,000 anticipated upon the income-tax, and

upwards of £1,200,000 upon the malt-credit. This enormous deficit—_seven

and a half millions sterling_—was, moreover, accumulated during a period

when the national Exchequer enjoyed windfalls such as very rarely come

to the aid of a Minister of Finance. The falling-in of the terminable

annuities has reduced the charges on the National Debt to the extent of

£2,000,000; and there was also the unexpected repayment of a portion of

the Spanish loan. Mr Gladstone, therefore, has enough to do with the

surplus which he will obtain by the proposed reduction of the

expenditure. He has first to restore the Exchequer balances to their

proper amount, by repaying the £2,684,000 which he abstracted from them

to meet his exigencies between March 1860 and March 1862. He has

likewise to get rid of the addition to the National Debt which he

created, to the extent of £461,000. And, finally, he has to cease his

forestalments of the revenue. When he has done these things, where will

be his surplus? Mr Gladstone, in former times, used to denounce the

slightest forestalment of the yearly revenue as a flagrant “violation of

political morality;” and there is no question that such a procedure can

only be excused under exceptional circumstances and to a very small

amount. The House of Commons, therefore, as watchful guardians of the

public revenue, will surely call upon the Chancellor of the Exchequer to

restore matters to their normal condition before he does anything else.

The same must be done in regard to the Exchequer balances. And if it be

not an equally pressing necessity to pay off the £461,000 of new debt,

surely Mr Gladstone, who aspires to the reputation of a great Finance

Minister, will be ashamed to leave unpaid off a portion of the national

obligations which will hereafter be known as “Gladstone’s Debt.”

Unfortunately, when we think of 1853–4, we must allow that this is not

the only portion of the National Debt which may be thus designated.

Most financiers, and all sound ones, in such circumstances, would devote

the surplus of revenue which might accrue to redressing the adverse

balance of former years. But Mr Gladstone belongs to a new school. He

leaves the balances to come right as they may, or bequeaths them as an

embarrassment to his successor; while he goes on in his seemingly

endless process of devising financial alterations, which always leave

him deeper in the mire. He loves to carry every inch of canvass—he

crowds all sail as he drives his financial pinnace through strange

waters; but he has shipped so many seas that the Exchequer has become

waterlogged. He had better bale out the water before he goes any

further. But this is precisely what he will not do. He must have a

“sensation” budget. He must reduce some branches of the revenue and

experiment with more. Already he lifts up a corner of the curtain to

give us a glimpse of the grand tableau of jugglery which he has in store

for us; and in due time the House will be wheedled and overwhelmed by

the suave rhetoric of the great financial juggler. Possibly, however,

the country will think that it has had too much of this already. It

thinks of the cheap paper and cheap wines, and cannot see anything in

these changes to atone for a deficit of seven millions and a half. Mr

Gladstone’s abolition of the paper-duties was done not only at a wrong

time, but in a wrong way. He not only landed himself in a deficit, but

he landed the papermakers in a dilemma. He struck off the excise-duty on

the one hand and the import-duty on paper on the other, and called it

“free trade;” but while making free trade in the manufactured article,

he ought to have taken care that there should be free trade likewise in

the raw material. Several Continental countries send their paper,

untaxed, to compete in the English markets with the produce of our own

paper-mills, while at the same time they place a prohibitory duty on the

export to our shores of rags. Our papermakers do not object to fair

competition, but they object to be subjected by legislative enactment to

so serious a disadvantage. If the crop of cotton in America were to fall

off in extent (as it has done during this civil war), and the Americans,

when peace is restored, were to place (as they have talked of doing) a

prohibitory duty upon the export of cotton, while we did not retaliate

by placing an import-duty on the manufactured article from their ports,

what would our manufacturers think of this sort of “free trade?” Why,

such a state of matters would produce a calamity in our manufacturing

districts equal to that under which we are now suffering, and ruin the

cotton industry in this country permanently. Yet this is the condition

of affairs which Mr Gladstone voluntarily chooses to impose upon our

paper manufacture, in deference to the clamour and exhortations of his

Radical friends. What has become of the touching picture which the

eloquent financier portrayed of paper-mills springing up all over the

country,—when every hamlet was to have its little factory, engaging the

surplus labour of the lads and lasses; and every glen that had a

streamlet was to be made musical with the noise of a paper-mill? We have

not heard of any such results—we have not heard of any extension at all

of the manufacture; and as for Mr Gladstone’s arcadian dreams of

paper-making, while foreign Governments act towards us in the way they

do, he surely cannot possibly hope for their realisation—unless, indeed,

he expects the whole country to go to rags under his financial

mismanagement.

The other basis upon which Mr Gladstone founds his reputation as a great

financier, and as an ample compensation for his past annual deficits, is

his reduction of the duties upon French wines. We readily admit that

these wines have been poured into this country in greatly increased

quantities during the last eighteen months; but will this continue? And

what is the advantage we derive from the change? “Gladstone’s wines” has

become a current name for these beverages, but it is certainly not a

“household word.” Any one who confesses, with rueful face, that he has

made acquaintance with these wines, never fails to explain that it was

at another man’s table, or at some villanous restaurant’s,—never at his

own. No decanter will circulate if its contents are known to have been

favoured by the legislation of Mr Gladstone. People have become wary and

suspicious at dinner-parties now; and a Paterfamilias may be heard

giving the caution which old Squire Hazeldean gave to his son when about

to dine with Dr Riccabocca, “Whatever you take, Frank, don’t touch his

wines!” Those “cheap wines” have been tried—or, at least, if tried, have

been condemned and discarded at every respectable dinner-table. They

don’t suit the middle classes; that is an incontrovertible fact. We are

not less sure they are equally ill suited to the tastes and requirements

of the working-classes. They have hitherto been tried largely as a

novelty; but they do not improve on acquaintance, even if we could

forget the much better use which Mr Gladstone could have made of his

opportunities. Depend upon it, Nature knows better than any Chancellor

of the Exchequer how to provide for our bodily wants, and supplies the

essential wants of each people from the products of their own country.

Let our working-classes get good beer at its natural price, and it will

be infinitely better for their health, and more to their taste, than

giving them cheap foreign wines, whose thinness and acidity are not

suited for our climate, and which cannot compete with beer as nourishers

and supporters of the bodily strength. When we remember, on the one

hand, that seven and a half millions sterling have been lost to the

country in Mr Gladstone’s financial experiments; and, on the other, how

much better would have been a reduction on the duties of tea, sugar, and

beer, it will be admitted that he could hardly have wasted so much money

with less benefit to the community. Abundance of acid wines and plenty

of paper—it is a curious prescription for Mr Gladstone to found his

reputation upon.

But Mr Gladstone is resolved to proceed in his eccentric course. His

crotchet this year is to cheapen tobacco. Three and a half years ago (in

November 1859) Mr Bright delivered two orations at public meetings in

favour of the abolition of the duties on tea, sugar, and tobacco, and

the substitution therefor of an enormous income-tax. But Mr Bright

thought that the tea and sugar duties were more deserving of reduction

than the duty on tobacco, whereas Mr Gladstone gives a preference to

tobacco. How is this to be accounted for? On the surface it appears a

new piece of financial eccentricity; and in every view of the matter the

Chancellor of the Exchequer, we should think, will find no small

difficulty in obtaining the consent of Parliament to his proposal. There

can be no question that tea, sugar, and beer have each and all prior

claims upon the favour of Parliament, if the wellbeing of the community

is to be consulted. But Mr Gladstone, in the speech which he made when

introducing his proposal, propounded the extraordinary doctrine that a

Chancellor of the Exchequer (and of course the Government which must

approve his acts) has nothing to do with the wellbeing of the community.

His only duty, says Mr Gladstone, is to get as much money as possible

out of the taxed commodities. Judged by this rule, Mr Gladstone has

certainly been a most unsuccessful Minister. We cannot, indeed, accept

this view of a Minister’s obligations to the country; but, even if it

were accepted, it would not furnish any justification of Mr Gladstone’s

proposal. He says that the present duty upon tobacco is so high that

smuggling is carried on to a large extent, and cannot be prevented by

the Custom-house officers. This would be a good argument for abolishing

the duty or reducing it to a trifling amount, but it is totally

inapplicable to the case when he proposes to leave a tax of five

shillings a-pound on manufactured tobacco, which is more than equal to

the price of the best manufactured tobacco, freight included. The

smuggler would still make a profit of more than a hundred per cent on

the value of the commodity; and does any one believe that smuggling

would cease, or even be sensibly diminished, when the premium upon

smuggling is so great, and when (as Mr Gladstone states) the facilities

of evasion are so plentiful? If Mr Gladstone were honest in the plea

upon which he rests his proposal for this reduction of customs-duty, he

would be labouring under a great delusion. But we take another view of

the matter. It seems to us that his real object is secretly to carry out

Mr Bright’s scheme of finance, and with great craft he begins with the

duties on tobacco, where his operations are least likely to excite

suspicion, but which, if accomplished, will render the subsequent steps

of the scheme not only easy but inevitable. There may be little to find

fault with in the present proposal considered by itself; but what is its

bearing in regard to our financial system? Reduce the duty on tobacco,

and what other customs-duty can be maintained? Mr Gladstone was never

more eloquent and plausible than when proposing to reduce the duty on

foreign wines; now he is playing the same artful game in regard to

tobacco. Can Parliament be any longer blind to the course to which he is

committing it? Honest financiers, who could afford to make a reduction

of taxation, would begin with tea, sugar, and beer, as the duties on

these can be remitted with the greatest advantage to the community;

while those on luxuries, such as foreign wines and tobacco, could be

maintained without inconvenience or complaint. But just for this very

reason Mr Gladstone, who aims at accomplishing Mr Bright’s scheme of

taxation, begins at the other end—knowing well that if he can reduce the

taxes on tobacco as well as on foreign wines, the _abolition_ of the

other customs-duties will follow as a natural consequence. A reduction

to the extent of one-half the duties on luxuries cannot be balanced save

by totally abolishing the duties on the necessaries of life. We have a

strong conviction that this is his game; for the good reason that upon

no other supposition is his conduct intelligible. Mr Gladstone is not a

fool; he must have an adequate motive for this seemingly crotchety

course; and we believe we have named it. Let the House of Commons look

to it, before they are led too far into the toils to be able to recede.

Plausible in the extreme, and ever seeking to conciliate or overreach

his audience by all the arts of rhetoric and casuistry, Mr Gladstone

changes his arguments and mode of dealing with the House almost every

year, as may best suit his plans. Financial principles he has none—save

the great one which he conceals. All arguments are fair, he thinks—all

professions of opinion justifiable, in order that he may carry his

point, and lead the House step by step unwittingly towards his goal. We

need not allude to the rhetorical craft by which, in 1860, when he

wished to gain the assent of the House to an increase of the income-tax,

he maintained that there was a deficit of twelve millions; whereas, in

the following year, when the balance was worse by 2½ millions, but when

he eagerly desired to obtain the abolition of the paper-duties, he

boldly represented that there was a surplus. At one time he represents

that the proper way to proceed with a Budget is by a multiplicity of

separate bills; at another time (when it suits his purpose better) in

the form of a single bill. But his disregard of financial principles, or

rather his alternate adoption and repudiation of principles the most

opposite, is a still more glaring offence. In the case of the French

Treaty, he was wholly in favour of Reciprocity; in the case of the

Paper-duties, he represented that it was right for us to abolish them

without any attempt at obtaining reciprocity, and although some

countries actually prohibited the export of the raw material of the

manufacture! He reduced the duty on French wines on the ground that the

reduction would benefit the morals of the working-classes, by enabling

them to drink light wines instead of strong spirits; he now justifies

his proposed reduction of the duty on tobacco on the very opposite

principle—to wit, that a Chancellor of the Exchequer has nothing

whatever to do with the morals or wellbeing of the people. His dogma for

the hour is, that his only duty is to make the taxes as profitable as

possible. We have shown that it is very doubtful if his present proposal

will have that effect; but, in any case, how would his new dogma accord

with his policy in the last two years in wholly abolishing the duties on

paper and other commodities? He is the most dangerous Minister that has

ever been intrusted with the management of the British finances. He has

not only involved the country in an accumulation of deficits, but he has

had the art to persuade Parliament to do this with its eyes open; while

at the same time he leads it onward, with its eyes carefully bandaged,

towards the goal of democratic finance—which of late years has become

the cynosure of his policy, and which he knows would at once become

unattainable if his real purpose were avowed.

Now that we are to have a surplus—in consequence of the Ministry at

length adopting the views of the Opposition—the first duty which

devolves upon the House of Commons is to retrieve the financial mistakes

of the past, and to rid us of its burdens. What the Conservative leaders

advocated last session was not reduction of taxation, but retrenchment

of expenditure. The Government had incurred a deficit of £7,500,000 in

two years, and the first thing to be thought of was, to reduce the

expenditure, in order that the deficit might be cleared off. Let Mr

Gladstone do this—let him clear off the serious deficits in his previous

years of office; and then—but not till then—ought he to propound new

reductions of the revenue. But such a businesslike proceeding would not

make a sensation budget; it would not surround the Ministry with that

bright gleam of popularity which is to retrieve their position, and

carry them through another session of barrenness and humiliation. In all

probability Mr Gladstone’s proposal is to ignore the past deficits, and

devote the whole of his prospective surplus to the reduction of

taxation. By a reduction of taxes the country is to be bribed into

forgetfulness of the past, and rendered placable to the appeal for

respite on the part of a falling Ministry. It is not to be expected that

Mr Gladstone will confine his favours to tobacco: he must support his

great remission of duty on this luxury by minor reductions on articles

of more usefulness. While striking four shillings a-pound off tobacco,

he will strike a few pence or farthings off the price of tea and sugar.

In fact, he will probably, in his usual way, give a trifling sop all

round, in order that he may be allowed to carry his great point in the

reduction of the duties on tobacco. The House will do much better to

abolish, or greatly reduce, the duties on hops and beer. Surely it is

intolerable that foreign luxuries, like tobacco and French wines, should

receive the favours of the Legislature, while the produce of our own

soil and industry, constituting a healthy element of the national food,

should be subjected to heavy taxation. This is a matter which affects

urban constituencies as well as the agricultural interest. Put it to the

vote in any town or county in the land, whether they will have five

shillings a-pound struck off the duty on tobacco, or get the fiscal

burdens removed from beer, and there cannot be a doubt that the whole

suffrages would be given in favour of beer, and against tobacco.

Therefore if Mr Gladstone—as is most likely—be resolved once more to

play an _ad captandum_ game, we trust the House of Commons will be on

the alert to see that any possible reductions of taxation are effected

on articles which enter largely into the food of the people, and not

wasted—with what ulterior object, we need not repeat—upon an enormous

remission on the duties on tobacco and cigars. But it still more behoves

the House to see that Mr Gladstone’s previous deficits are cleared off.

Mr Gladstone must put the finances in the condition in which they were

when he took office. We do not presume he will venture to continue his

practice of forestalling the revenue payments; but he has to refund the

two millions which he abstracted from the balances in the Exchequer in

the two years subsequent to March 1860, and he has also to pay off about

half a million sterling which has been added to the National Debt during

his present term of office. Let him do these things first; and then we

will see how much he has to spare for promoting the introduction of

cigars for the million! Let us clear off our past deficits, before,

under the leadership of this financial sophist, we plunge into others

that we know not of.

The past month has furnished a most singular proof of the want of

sagacity which has characterised the commercial policy of the Whigs

since 1847. On coming into office at that time, their only thought was,

how to rival Sir R. Peel in his highly popular reforms of the tariff.

Unable to equal him in administrative sagacity, they simply travestied

his policy by carrying it to excess. They abolished or reduced

customs-duties, and totally relinquished the Navigation Laws, without a

thought of how the country would fare in its future commercial relations

with other countries. Again and again they were warned that they were

rashly and foolishly relinquishing a valuable vantage-ground without

even attempting to obtain those advantages for our commerce which other

countries would be willing to cede in return. What has been the

consequence? The ‘Magazine’ has so often in former years predicted what

would be the result, that we need not now go over the old ground.

Fortunately the Under-Secretary for Foreign Affairs has told the tale of

Ministerial failure so well, that his speech on Feb. 17, in answer to Mr

Fitzgerald, completely substantiates the correctness of our old

predictions. We print it here as furnishing ample matter for reflection

to politicians on both sides of the House:—

“When the hon. member for Rochdale went to Paris to negotiate the

French treaty, the first thing he was asked was, What had he to offer?

If he had gone to Paris with his hands empty, it was not probable that

he would have succeeded in obtaining the concessions which the French

Government made to him. Fortunately, however, the hon. gentleman had

much to offer. There were heavy duties on wine and other articles of

French produce and manufactures, and in consideration of a reduction

in those duties the French Government consented to various changes in

their tariff which had proved very beneficial not only to this country

but to France. It was necessary to bear in mind that in our domestic

legislation we differed from France. We at once gave the whole world

the benefit of the concessions which had been made to our ally.

France, on the other hand, withheld from others the privileges she had

conceded to us, and thus retained in her hands the means of bargaining

with other Powers for mutual commercial concessions. When one nation

sought any favour from another nation, there were various grounds on

which the request might be based. An appeal might be made to the

generosity of the other Power, but it was doubtful whether that would

have much effect; or an appeal might be made to a treaty which gave

the applicant the privileges of the most favoured nation, and a claim

advanced for certain privileges which had been granted to another

State. Therefore it was, above all things, desirable that when one had

no concessions to offer in return for the advantages sought, some

other Power, which possessed the means of bargaining, should commence

the negotiations. That was the reason why France had been allowed to

precede us in the present instance, and every concession which was

made to her gave us a right to claim the same. If we had taken the

initiative, the Italian Government would very naturally have said,

‘You have nothing to give us in exchange for what we give you, and if

we freely concede your demands we shall be placed in a bad position in

making terms with France.’ So far from Her Majesty’s Government not

having endeavoured to make treaties of commerce with other nations,

the fact was that there was scarcely a Power in Europe with whom

negotiations had not been opened during the last year or two. The

Belgian Government were asked to make a treaty of commerce with us, as

they had done with France; and it was pointed out to them that it

would be an unfriendly act, having entered into a treaty with France,

to refuse to negotiate one with England. They replied by asking what

we could give to them in return, and they suggested that if they gave

to us what they had given to France, we [having nothing of our own to

offer them] should consent to capitalise the Scheldt dues. Now, the

capitalisation of the Scheldt dues had nothing whatever to do with a

treaty of commerce, and our Government [_nota bene_, having nothing to

bargain with!] at once refused to admit the principle of purchasing a

treaty. [And yet, in the very year previous, they had “purchased” the

treaty with France!]... The House was aware that last year the French

Government were negotiating a treaty with Prussia and the Zollverein.

As soon as that fact became known, our Government applied to Prussia

and the Zollverein to make with us a similar treaty of commerce. The

reply was precisely the same we received from Belgium—that

negotiations could not be entered into with us until those in progress

with France were concluded. France, it was said in effect, can give us

an equivalent. You can give us none.”

During the present month the conflict of parties in the Legislature will

be suspended as far as the business of the country will allow. The

nation and its representatives will have little taste for polemical

discussion during the month that is to witness the joyous event of the

marriage of the heir-apparent to the throne. The country will be in

jubilee, and London will be absorbed in the fêtes and royal ceremonial

attendant upon the nuptials. The good wishes of all flow out to the

young Prince and his Danish bride. The hopes of the nation centre in

him. The hearty greetings of the people await him on this happy

occasion. He has proved himself worthy of the esteem which he so fully

enjoys. Since the days of the Black Prince, no heir to the throne has

given so many happy auguries of his future. Unlike the peerless son of

Edward III., we trust that he will be spared “long to reign over us,”

after the evil hour for us when his royal mother shall exchange her

earthly crown for a better one. Before the royal pageantries and popular

illuminations begin, and the acclamations of the first nation in the

world arise to greet him and his beautiful bride, we tender them our

sympathies, our congratulations, and our best wishes for their

happiness. The union promises to be a happy one for the royal pair. It

is a present happiness, and we trust it will be a lasting comfort, to

our beloved Queen. It is the first gleam of returning sunshine to her

heart after the darkness of sorrow and bereavement which so suddenly

settled down upon her fifteen months ago. We know no drawback upon the

general joy. Even in a political point of view this alliance is

fortunate, and desirable above any other that could be formed. The

country is thrice happy to know that this is a union of hearts as well

as of hands, 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.

While as a good princess and queen she will win our hearts, it is an

additional pleasure to feel that, as a Scandinavian Princess, she will

rivet an old and national alliance, and draw into closer bonds the

kindred races of the North.

Though there will be a temporary truce, we fear the conduct of the

Government, whether as represented by Mr Gladstone or by Lord Russell,

will not be such as the Conservative Opposition can approve. Even apart

from its acts, the position of the Ministry is so unnatural, and its

reputation so tarnished and discredited, that it cannot possibly hope

for a much longer respite. Every week its position is becoming more

untenable. In vain do its friends endeavour to frame apologies for its

defeats and pleas for its existence. In vain does the leading journal at

one time claim as a merit for the Premier that he has “no principles;”

in vain does it, at another, seek to intimidate electors by declaring

that “unprincipled constituencies make unscrupulous Governments.” We

should have thought that “unprincipled constituencies” were the very

ones to support a Premier with no “principles.” However, as the

subsequent election at Totnes showed, the threat was no idle word: and

Government influence and the most tyrannical pressure were employed to

coerce the free action of that constituency. But this course also has

failed. At Totnes the Government simply escaped defeat: Liberals were

returned as Liberals had been before. But at Devonport, another pocket

borough of the Ministry, the Government was defeated, and for the first

time for several elections a Conservative headed the poll. Ministerial

tyranny had been carried too far. It succeeded in the first instance,

but would not be brooked in the second. The “unscrupulous Government”

has received a check in the corrupt exercise of its powers which it can

never forget. It was at once a triumph for Conservatism and for the

principle of freedom of election. We do not wonder that Mr Ferrand, when

he took his seat in the House, should be received with hearty

acclamations from the Conservatives, who crowded the Opposition benches

to do him honour. The Conservative party is now stronger by eleven

votes—counting twenty-two on a division—since June 1859, when the united

Whigs and Radicals succeeded in overthrowing Lord Derby’s Government by

a majority of only thirteen.

It is amusing to see the subterfuges by which the Whigs seek to conceal

their discomfiture. Feeling themselves going downhill very fast,

disintegrating, expiring, they cry out that “there are no parties

nowadays.” Some of them even go the length of saying that there are “no

principles;” the correctness of which statement we shall not dispute as

regards themselves. They should know best; and, indeed, as all their old

principles are dead and gone, dismissed into the limbo of vanities, we

do not see how they can have any left. It is certainly suspicious that

the Whigs should have innocently discovered that the age of party is

past, at the very time that the Tory party has regained its old

ascendancy in the Legislature. Plain people will not be at a loss to

assign a reason. The Whigs as a party are extinct, and, like

Chesterfield and Tyrawley, “they don’t wish it to be known.” The only

thing that can keep the Whigs alive in the imagination of the public, is

to show that party is dead. Happily the country has only to look at the

Opposition side of the House to see that the Tory party is alive, and

exuberant in strength and hope. It is fortunate for the interests of the

State that they are so. The main attack upon the bulwarks of the

Constitution has been decisively repulsed—the legions of “Reform” have

been scattered in such hopeless rout that their leaders have thrown away

their standards and disavow their cause. But the fight still goes on

against another front of the Constitution, which, until lately, was but

ill defended. This combat, so interesting and important, is itself a

test of party; and seldom have the organisation and discipline of party

been more strikingly displayed than in this keen warfare. Party dead!

No, truly. “An opinion has been industriously promulgated of late,”

justly observes a contemporary,[12] “that party distinctions have ceased

in public life, and that there are no contested principles between the

two great political connections of the State. Yet simultaneous with the

propagation of this doctrine has been the most systematic and successful

assault in Parliament upon the Church of England that it has encountered

since 1640.” Repulsed from the political front of the Constitution, the

waves of combat still dash furiously against our religious institutions.

It is time that the Conservatives should overthrow the enemies of the

Constitution in this quarter also by a decisive victory. It will be

their crowning triumph. In truth there is no other beyond it. When they

have terminated this combat, the Conservative triumph is complete in the

Legislature, as it already is in the country. The Church is part and

parcel of the British Constitution; and very heartily do we approve of

our ecclesiastical contemporary’s exhortations to Churchmen to look

after their special interests. The Church is a party question, like any

other; and in the intense competition of a constitutional country, the

Church must organise its press, like the other institutions of the land.

There is a good time coming sure enough, and the cause of its coming is

easily understood. The Conservative party are superior alike in

sincerity and in statesmanlike ability to the party which has so long

prided itself in the advocacy of organic changes. Moreover, they

represent the normal feeling of Englishmen. Conservatism is the

distinguishing feature of the British character. The public of this

country has no love for those theoretic ideals of government, those

paper-constitutions, which have so often fascinated and brought misery

upon other nations. The reign of Innovation is ever short-lived with us;

and the supremacy of the party who represent that principle must be

equally transitory. The Whig party, who became champions of innovation

in order to regain the power which they had lost, now find that their

old vantage-ground has slipped from under them. They have had their day

as rough-hewers of the Constitution, and now give place again to the

more masterly artists who know how to chisel the marble while preserving

the lineaments of the noble design. This natural decline of the Reform

party has been rendered more inevitable by the very efforts they have

made to maintain themselves in power. Everything portends the speedy

ascendancy of the Conservative party in Parliament; and the leaders of

the party are the very men to lend to such a cause the lustre of

personal renown. Derby, Malmesbury, Disraeli, Bulwer Lytton, Pakington,

Walpole, Stanley, Cairns, Whiteside, are names of which any party and

any cause might be proud. They have the advantage of years, too, on

their side; for, compared with their rivals, they are all in the vigour

of life, and in the prime of states-manhood. The tide of public opinion

has long been rising in their favour, and they have not long to wait.

They are strong, and therefore are calm; they are patriotic, and will

not imitate the factious tactics of their rivals. But their final

success is at hand; and their triumph will be all the more glorious,

inasmuch as it promises to partake less of the character of a

party-victory, than of an ovation offered to them by the whole

enlightened classes of the community.

_Printed by William Blackwood & Sons, Edinburgh._

-----

Footnote 1:

‘La Vie de Village en Angleterre; ou, Souvenirs d’un Exile.’ Paris:

Didier. 1862.

Footnote 2:

‘Vie Moderne en Angleterre.’ Par Hector Malot.

Footnote 3:

‘Studies in Roman Law; with Comparative Views of the Laws of France,

England, and Scotland.’ By Lord Mackenzie, one of the Judges of the

Court of Session in Scotland. W. Blackwood & Sons. 1862.

Footnote 4:

I should add that, since writing the above, one day my eye was

attracted by the unusual number of people (there were nine) reading

one of the royal decrees just promulgated and placarded on the wall:

it concerned the uniform of subordinate officials.

Footnote 5:

The ‘Chiacchiera’ of 3d January.

Footnote 6:

‘Relations Politiques de la France et de l’Espagne avec l’Ecosse au

xvi^e Siècle—Papiers d’état, Pièces, et Documents inedits ou peu

connus, tirés des Bibliothêques et des Archives de France. Publiés par

Alexandre Teulet, Archiviste aux Archives de l’Empire.’ Nouvelle

edition, 5 vols. Paris: Renouard. Edinburgh: Williams & Norgate.

‘Les Ecossais en France—Les Français en Ecosse.’ Par Francisque

Michel, Correspondant de l’Institut de France, &c. &c. 2 vols. London:

Trübner & Co.

Footnote 7:

See the cessation of church-building in Scotland brought out in a

well-known article in the ‘Quarterly Review’ for July 1849, on the

Churches and Abbeys of Scotland, understood to be from the pen of Mr

Joseph Robertson.

Footnote 8:

See the article on ‘Baronial and Ecclesiastical Antiquities of

Scotland,’ in the Magazine for August 1850.

Footnote 9:

Article, ‘The French on Queen Mary,’ Magazine for November 1859.

Footnote 10:

‘The Invasion of the Crimea: Its Origin, and an Account of its

Progress down to the Death of Lord Raglan.’ By Alexander William

Kinglake. 2d Edition. William Blackwood and Sons, Edinburgh and

London.

Footnote 11:

The ‘Daily News.’

Footnote 12:

‘Church and State Review,’ art. ‘Practical Politics.’

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TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES

Page Changed from Changed to

279 were not long absent. Whey they were not long absent. When they

320 a _cause celèbre_ now depending. a _cause célèbre_ now depending.

We We

372 the _coup d’êtat_. The claims of the _coup d’état_. The claims of

St St

● 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_.

● The caret (^) serves as a superscript indicator, applicable to

individual characters (like 2^d).