On the third day of April last a most impressive and unusual scene was
witnessed in the English House of Commons. For some time before the hour
for sitting, the members had gathered about the halls and lobbies in
whispering groups. One of its leading members had passed away, and there
was a consultation as to whether the House should move an adjournment.
It is not the custom of the House of Commons to adjourn in case of the
death of one of its members, unless that member is an officer of the
Government or of extraordinary prominence. The last person for whom it
had adjourned was Sir G. Cornwall Lewis. It was considered in the
present case that there were some members whose hostility to the
departed would not stop at the grave, and that the harmony which alone
would make an adjournment graceful as a tribute would be unattainable;
so it was decided that the motion should not be made. When the great,
deep-toned Westminster clock struck four, the members took their seats.
Then slowly entered the ministers, with Lord Palmerston at their head;
and for some moments sitting there with their hats on, one might have
supposed it a silent meeting of Friends. At this moment all eyes were
turned to the door as one entered who is a Friend indeed: heavily, with
head bowed under his terrible sorrow, John Bright walked to his place,
by the side of which was a vacancy never to be filled. Lord Palmerston,
on rising, was received with a cheer which rang through the hall like a
wailing cry, and was followed by a deep hush. As the white-haired old
man, who had seen the leading men of more than two generations fall at
his side, began to speak of the "great loss" which the House and the
nation had suffered, his voice quivered, and recovered itself only when
it sank to a low tone that was deeply pathetic. And when, having
recounted the instances in which Richard Cobden, with his "great
ambition to be useful to his country," had been signally useful, each
instance followed by the refusal of proffered honors and emoluments, he
said, "Mr. Cobden's name will be forever engraved on the most
interesting pages of the history of this country," there was a
spontaneous burst of applause throughout the House. When Mr. Disraeli
arose to speak concerning the man whom for so many years he had met only
in uncompromising political combat, it was at once felt how irresistible
was the force of a right and true man. No yielding, equivocating,
South-by-North politician could ever have brought a lifelong antagonist
to stand by his grave and say,--"I believe, that, when the verdict of
posterity is recorded on his life and conduct, it will be said of him,
that, looking to all he said and did, he was without doubt the greatest
political character the pure middle class of this country has yet
produced,--an ornament to the House of Commons, and an honor to
England." Then arose, as if trying to lift a great burden, noble John
Bright. Twice he tried to speak and his voice failed; at length, with
broken utterance, but with that eloquent simplicity which characterizes
him beyond all speakers whom I have heard,--"I feel that I cannot
address the House on this occasion. Every expression of sympathy which I
have heard has been most grateful to my heart; but the time which has
elapsed, since I was present when the manliest and gentlest spirit that
ever actuated or tenanted the human form took its flight, is so short,
that I dare not even attempt to give utterance to the feelings by which
I am oppressed. I shall leave it to some calmer moment, when I may have
an opportunity of speaking to some portion of my countrymen the lesson
which I think will be learned from the life and character of my friend.
I have only to say, that, after twenty years of most intimate and most
brotherly friendship with him, I little knew how much I loved him, until
I found that I had lost him." As he spoke the concluding words, which
plaintively told his sense of loneliness, the tears that can become a
manly man came thick and fast, and all who were in the House wept with
him. There have been cases in which the House of Commons has adjourned
in honor of deceased members; but perhaps never before has it showed its
emotions in generous tears. Did I say that _all_ wept? I must recall it.
There actually were two or three who, during the entire scene, had
nothing but sneers to give, and sat, as I heard a member remark, "a
group fit for the pencil of Retzsch, fresh from its delineations of
Mephistopheles." I need not write upon the page which mentions Richard
Cobden their names, which, to reverse Palmerston's praise, are engraved
only upon the least creditable pages of the history of their own or of
others' countries.
When John Bright sat down, some minds were borne back over eight years
when Cobden was addressing a large public meeting without the presence
of his usual companion. Mr. Bright was then in the far South, in
consequence of ill-health of a character to excite grave apprehension
among his friends. During his address, Mr. Cobden, having occasion to
allude to his absent friend, was so overpowered by his feelings that he
could not proceed for several minutes; and rarely has a great audience
been so deeply moved as was that by this emotion in one to whose heart,
true and ruddy, any sentimentality was unattributable.
To write the history of this friendship between Bright and Cobden, to
tell how the sturdy hearts of these strong men became riveted to each
other, would be to record the best pages of recent English history. For
these men joined hands at the altar of a noble cause; and their souls
have been welded in the fires of a fierce and unceasing struggle for
humanity.
Richard Cobden was born near Midhurst, Sussex, at his father's
farm-house, Dunford, June 3, 1804. His father was one of the class who
regarded the repeal of the Corn Laws as identical with their ruin. Young
Richard was at an early age placed in a London warehouse, where he so
pressed every leisure moment of his time into the acquisition of
information that his employer reproved him with a warning that lads so
fond of reading were apt to spoil their prospects. (This old gentleman
afterwards became unfortunate, and the young man he had thus warned
contributed fifty pounds for his comfort every year until his death.)
There has been some attempt on the part of certain persons, who have
never forgiven Mr. Cobden for their being in the wrong in the matter of
the Corn Laws, to sneer at him as an uncultivated man. This was, of
course, to be expected by one who made all the old bones in the
scholastic coffins at Oxford rattle again and again, by declaring that
he regarded "a single copy of the 'Times' newspaper as of more
importance than all the works of Thucydides,"--a thing which he has for
some years been willing to pledge himself not to repeat,--or
illustrating the nature of English education by representing
Englishmen's complete knowledge of the Ilissus, which he had once seen
dammed up by washerwomen, and their utter ignorance of the Mississippi,
flowing its two thousand miles through a magnificent country peopled by
their own race. But these partisan sneers could not affect the judgment
of any who knew Mr. Cobden, or those who read his works on Russia and
the United States and his pamphlets on subjects of current interest,
that his classical and historical culture was equal to that of the
majority of his critics, whilst his acquaintance with general philosophy
and political economy was remarkable.
Mr. Cobden left the ordinary business of the warehouse in which he was
employed to become a commercial traveller, in which capacity he gained
much knowledge of Continental peoples and their languages. At length he
was able to establish himself in the calico business at Manchester, in
the firm "Richard Cobden & Co." The "Cobden prints" became celebrated,
the business flourished, and Mr. Cobden, at the time when he began his
political career, was receiving, as his share of the income, about
forty-five thousand dollars per annum. It was probably about the year
1830, when England was feeling the first ground-swells of the great
Reform agitation, that Mr. Cobden felt called to give himself entirely
to his country's service. He resolved, however, to study for some years
with reference to public questions. In 1834-5 he made a tour through
many countries, including Egypt, Greece, and Turkey, Canada and the
United States. On his return he wrote several pamphlets, in the name of
"A Manchester Manufacturer," which excited attention, and one ("England,
Ireland, and America") a lively controversy. About this time appeared
his first contribution to the Eastern question in a little work entitled
"Russia." In all these his fundamental ideas--Retrenchment,
Non-Intervention, Free Trade--were set forth in a very spirited and
eloquent way. It is now very evident that Mr. Cobden was the product and
utterance of his country at that time; and though he was held to be an
economical visionary, never was visionary in conservative England
blessed with seeing his visions so soon harden into facts. But he was
not so absorbed in national politics, and in his proposed "Smithian
Society," in which the "Wealth of Nations" was to be discussed, as to
forget the more circumscribed duties of a citizen of Manchester.
Manchester was not yet a city with municipal representation, when he
wrote a pamphlet entitled "Incorporate your Borough," which did as much
as anything else to raise it to that dignity; and Manchester showed its
gratitude by electing him to be alderman in the first town-council.
It is hard for us at this date to realize the condition of England when
that horrible _Sirocco_, as Robert Browning called it, the tax on corn,
was blighting the land. The suicidal policy which had prevailed since
the Peace of 1815 had brought the country to the verge of ruin; and
when, in 1838, those reformers of Manchester repaired to that first
meeting of the Anti-Corn-Law League, it was through crowds of pale,
haggard, starving men, each with his starving family at home, muttering
treason, and prepared for violence at any touch. The banner of Chartism
was already lifted. It was then that these resolute men, with Cobden at
their head, met and vowed sacredly that their League should never be
disbanded until those laws had been repealed. The devotion with which
Richard Cobden fought that good fight may be illustrated by the story
that once his little daughter said to her mother concerning her
father,--"Mother, who is that gentleman that comes here sometimes?" With
a similar devotion to humanity did this tenderest of parents inspire his
companions; and it is not in the nature of things that such labors so
put forth shall fail. One by one the haughty aristocrats yielded; and
when at last Cobden had conquered the conqueror of Napoleon, the battle
was won. The "Times" pooh-poohed the movement, until one day the news
came that a few gentlemen of Manchester had subscribed between forty and
fifty thousand pounds for repeal, when it suddenly discovered that "the
Anti-Corn-Law movement was a great fact." When, in 1841, the new Whig
Ministry, with Sir Robert Peel at their head, came in, elected as
Protectionists, gaunt Famine took its stand by the Royal Mace, like a
Banquo. Sir Robert driving along Fleet Street might see those whom this
new unwelcome commoner represented grimly gazing of "Punch,"--that of
the Premier turning his back on a starving man with half-naked wife and
child, and buttoning up his coat with the words, "I'm very sorry, my
good man, but I can do nothing for you,--nothing!" But though Peel was
the Premier apparent, Cobden was the Premier actual. And means were
found of softening Sir Robert's heart,--these, namely: it was intimated
to him one morning, that, if a division of the House should go against
the Ministry, the Queen would feel compelled to call upon Richard
Cobden, manufacturer, to make a cabinet for her. So the Ministry
yielded, and the League reached its triumph in 1846. It is due to the
memory of Peel to say that he joined with the triumphant nation to yield
every laurel to the brow to which it belonged, and uttered the memorable
prediction that Cobden's name would be forever venerated and loved,
whenever "the poor man ate his daily bread, sweeter because no longer
leavened with a bitter sense of unwise and unjust taxation."
In the year 1839 Mr. Cobden had heard John Bright speak with great power
at a meeting in Rochdale. A little later, when Bright had just lost his
wife at Leamington, Cobden visited him there. He found him in great
grief. "Think," said Cobden, "think in your sorrow, of the thousands of
men, women, and children, who are this moment starving under the
infamous laws which it is your task and mine to help remove. Come with
me, and we will never rest until we have abolished the Corn Laws." Then
and there were those hands clasped in a sacred cause which were never to
be unclasped but by death.
Mr. Cobden took his seat in Parliament in 1841, representing Stockport.
He had not only before the triumph of 1846 sacrificed his time and
impaired his health, but also given up his fortune to the cause, and was
a poor man. By a great spontaneous subscription, the nation reimbursed
his actual losses, and amongst other things built the house at Midhurst,
where he resided on the spot that his father had occupied. Immediately
after the repeal Mr. Cobden started on a Continental tour; and in every
city he was met with a triumphal reception, so deeply had his great work
in England affected the interests of all Europe. During his absence he
was elected to represent the great constituency of the West Riding in
Yorkshire, which he accepted.
It was perhaps in those furious days which preceded the Crimean War that
the noble personal qualities with which Mr. Cobden was endowed shone out
most clearly. When all England, from the thunder of the "Times" to the
quiet Muse of Tennyson, was enlisted for war, Cobden took his stand, and
refused to bow to the tempest. In a moment the nation seemed to forget
the services of years, and Cobden, denounced as a "Peace-at-any-price
man," lost the ear of the country, as did Bright and others in those
days of political anarchy. To the ability and independence with which
Cobden and Bright withstood the popular current then, Mr. Kinglake, the
opponent of both, has done justice. It was, in fact, not true that
Cobden was a "Peace-at-any-price man." Though he maintained earnestly
the principle of non-intervention, it was because he thought that
England in its present hands could not be trusted to intervene always in
the right interest; and never was there a more pointed confirmation of
his suspicion than the event of a war which gave the victory won by the
blood of the people over to the French Emperor, that he might with it
bind back every nation that in Southern Europe was near to its
redemption. The strongest chains binding Circassia, Poland, Hungary, and
Venetia, were forged in the fires of the Crimean War. This popular wave
reached its height and broke, as such waves will, and the people much
ashamed returned to their true leaders. So when, immediately after the
end of the Crimean War, the disgraceful bombardment of Canton occurred,
Cobden was still there in Parliament ready to risk all again. His
resolution condemning the action of Sir John Bowring (who, by the way,
was Cobden's personal friend) was passed in the House by a vote of 263
to 247. Palmerston appealed to the selfishness of the country on the
subject of Chinese trade, and was sustained. These were the days when
Gladstone and Disraeli lay down together. Cobden, Bright, Gibson,
Cardwell, Layard, Fox, Miall, and others, all lost their seats. To this
interval we are indebted that John Bright recovered strength in a
foreign land, and that we received in the United States the second visit
of Cobden. Whilst they were absent, the reaction set in: Bright was
elected by Birmingham, Cobden by Rochdale. Nay, so strong was the
feeling in Cobden's case, that Palmerston found it to his purpose to
invite him into the Cabinet; and when, returning from America, Cobden
sailed up the Mersey, he was met by a deputation from Liverpool who
informed him of his appointment among the new Ministry. He at once
declined the appointment, for reasons which have not hitherto been given
to the public. Since his death a personal friend of his has written,
that, on this occasion, "he told Lord Palmerston, in answer to
remonstrances against his decision to decline the honor, that he had
always regarded his Lordship as one of the most dangerous ministers
England could possibly have, and that his views had not undergone the
slightest change. He felt that it would be doing violence to his own
sense of duty, and injuring his own character for consistency in the
eyes of his countrymen, to profess to act with a minister to whom he had
all along been opposed on public grounds."
Mr. Cobden's next great service was in bringing about the treaty of free
commerce with France, a service which has endeared him to the French
beyond all English statesmen, and which brought him from the Queen the
offer of a Baronetcy, which he declined, as he also did in January last
Mr. Gladstone's offer of the chairmanship of the Board of Audit, at a
salary of two thousand pounds. Well might Gladstone say of him, as he
did,--"Rare is the privilege of any man who, having fourteen years ago
rendered to his country one signal and splendid service, now again,
within the same brief span of life, decorated neither by rank nor title,
bearing no mark to distinguish him from the people whom he loves, has
been permitted to perform a great and memorable service to his sovereign
and to his country."
By the death of Mr. Cobden America has lost one of her truest friends,
one who in all this conflict, which has been reflected in England in a
fierce warfare of parties, has been in the thick or the fight, "the
white plume of Navarre." Nothing told more for the American cause in
Europe than the celebrated speech of Cobden, made at the time when the
busy Southerners were trying to show that the war was not for Slavery,
but Free Trade, in which he declared that he had found the Southerners,
and Jefferson Davis himself, whom he had visited, utterly indifferent to
the Free Trade movement. He was accustomed to speak of American affairs
as an American. I well remember his vehement expressions of feeling
concerning the McClellan campaign in Virginia,--in connection with which
he told me that he was at one time travelling with Jefferson Davis and
McClellan together, and that Davis whispered to him, that, in case of
war, "That man [McClellan] is one of the first we should put into
service." I thought Mr. Cobden inclined to attribute McClellan's
failures to something worse than incapacity. But this is only one
instance of the way in which he followed our war-steps, and was
interested in the subordinate questions which are usually interesting
only to Americans. It is with a melancholy pleasure that we now know
that his last public utterance was the letter on American affairs to our
minister at Copenhagen, which reached England in the American papers the
day before his death,--and that one of his last acts was to send from
his death-bed a contribution to a poor and paralyzed American sailor who
with his family was suffering in London, without any personal appeal
having been made to him. These were the last pulses of a heart that beat
only for humanity.
Mr. Cobden was one of the finest speakers I have ever heard. There was a
play as of summer lightning about his eloquence, which, whilst it did
not strike and crash opponents, was purifying the atmosphere of the
debate, and lightning up every detail of fact, so that error could not
flourish in his presence, nor even well hide itself. There was a
terseness and massiveness in his speech, curiously blended with subtilty
and fervor. A question of finance would grow pathetic under his touch,
and he could create a soul under the ribs of statistics. He might vie
with Lowell's ideal Jonathan for "calculating fanaticism" and "cast-iron
enthusiasm." But, after all, what more need be said than the epitaph
proposed for his grave: "_He gave the people bread_"?