If we read Volunteers for Militia, we shall see that Wellington’s plan of defence is nearly that contemplated in 1863.

Gustavus III. of Sweden.

Gustavus, in his parting moments, strictly forbad, for fifty years, the opening of the chests at Upsal, in which his papers were deposited; and the injunction was strictly obeyed. On March 30, 1842, the chests were opened, in the presence of many spectators; but in neither was found, as was expected, any clue to the conspiracy of which Ankerström was the agent; but the king’s autograph instructions do not refer to any papers later than 1788, when the bequest was made. The Swedish instructions, in Gustavus’s handwriting, prove that the king enjoyed the reputation of being a great author without even knowing how to spell.—See Curiosities of History, p. 107.

Fall of Louis-Philippe.

Seventeen years Louis-Philippe sat on his elective throne: great increase of wealth and physical progress were the results of his reign at home, peace preserved abroad, and foreign policy alike successful; yet the King was not popular at home. He was hated alike by the Legitimist party, in whose eyes he was but a usurper, and by the revolutionists, who sighed for entire emancipation from kingly rule. Besides, there are deep and dark stains upon the reign of the “Napoleon of Peace,” as Louis-Philippe liked to be called. His reign was a period of corruption in high places, of jealousy and illiberal restriction towards his own subjects, of a fraudulent and heartless policy towards the allies of his country, whose good will he more especially forfeited by his over-reaching conduct in regard to the marriage of the Duc de Montpensier to a Spanish princess. His downfal was long predicted by the leading journalists of England, where public opinion is unfettered by arbitrary laws. In France, too, it was understood that Louis-Philippe was, in great measure, restrained in his views by his sister, Madame Adelaide, who died Dec. 30, 1847. “Then it came to pass that the heart of the nation became alienated from their king; and when a trifling disturbance in February, 1848, was aggravated into a popular riot through the audacity of a few ultra-republicans, Louis-Philippe felt that he stood alone and unsupported as a constitutional king, both at home and abroad, and that the soldiery were his only means of defence. He shrank from employing their bayonets against his people: he fell in consequence, and his house fell with him. The King fled in disguise from Paris to the coast of Normandy, and taking ship again found a safe refuge on the shores of England, to which his family had already made their escape. He landed at Newhaven, March 3rd, 1848. The Queen of England—who, in 1843, had enjoyed the hospitality of Louis-Philippe at the Château d’Eu, his royal residence near Dieppe, and who had entertained him in the following year at Windsor, and conferred on him the order of the Garter—immediately assigned Claremont, near Esher, as a residence for himself and his exiled family. From the time of his arrival in England, his health began visibly to decline: he died on the 26th of August, 1850, in the presence of Queen Amelie and his family, having dictated to them the conclusion of his memoirs, and having received the last rites and sacraments of the church at the hands of his chaplain. He was buried on the following 2nd of September at the Roman Catholic chapel at Weybridge, Surrey, and an inscription was placed upon his coffin, stating that his ashes remain there, Donec Deo adjuvante in patriam avitos inter cineres transferantur” (Saturday Review). They have not been removed!

The Chartists in 1848.

The Tenth of April, 1848, is a noted day in our political calendar, from its presenting a remarkable instance of nipping in the bud apparent danger to the peace of the country by means at once constitutional and reassuring public safety. It was on this day that the Chartists, as they were called, from developing their proposed alterations in the representative system, through “the People’s Charter,” made in the metropolis a great demonstration of their numbers: thus hinting at the physical force which they possessed, but probably without any serious design against the public peace. On this day the Chartists met, about 25,000 in number, on Kennington Common, whence it had been intended to march in procession to the House of Commons with the Charter petition; but the authorities having intimated that the procession would be prevented by force if attempted, it was abandoned. Nevertheless, the assembling of the quasi politicians from the north, by marching through the streets to the place of meeting, had an imposing effect. Great preparations were made to guard against any mischief; the shops were shut in the principal thoroughfares; bodies of horse and foot police, assisted by masses of special constables, were posted at the approaches to the Thames bridges; a large force of the regular troops was stationed out of sight in convenient spots; two regiments of the line were kept ready at Millbank Penitentiary; 1200 infantry at Deptford, and 30 pieces of heavy field ordnance were ready at the Tower, to be transported by hired steamers to any required point. The Meeting was held, but was brought to “a ridiculous issue, by the unity and resolution of the Metropolis, backed by the judicious measures of the Government, and the masterly military precautions of the Duke of Wellington.”

The Chartists’ Petition was presented to the Commons, on the above day, signed, it was stated, by 5,706,000 persons. The principal points of the Charter were universal suffrage, vote by ballot, annual parliaments, the division of the country into equal electoral districts, the abolition of property qualification in members, and paying them for their services. Chartism and the People’s Charter grew out of the shortcomings of the Reform Act. The Chartists then divided into the Physical Force and the Moral Force Chartists; and then arose the Complete Suffragists; the latter principally from the Middle Classes, the former from the working-classes; though their objects were very similar.

Revival of the French Emperorship.

The career of Louis Napoleon has been well described as a great revival in the fortunes of France, the accomplishment of which has been the result of a far-seeing estimate of the French character; thus sketched by a master hand:

French Coup d’Etat Predictions.

Statesmanship of Lord Melbourne.

Sir Bulwer Lytton, in an eloquent lecture upon the historical and intellectual associations of Hertfordshire, pays this willing tribute to the character of Viscount Melbourne; referring to “the fair park of Brocket, which our posterity will find historical as the favourite residence of one who, if not among the greatest Ministers who have swayed this country, was one of the most accomplished and honourable men who ever attained to the summit of constitutional ambition. And it is a striking anecdote of Lord Melbourne, that he once said in my own hearing—‘He rejoiced to have been Prime Minister, for he had thus learnt that men were much better, much more swayed by conscience and honour, than he had before supposed;’ a saying honourable to the Minister, and honourable still more to the public virtue of Englishmen.”

Lord Melbourne was proverbially a good-natured man; but in his preferences he acted with a sense of duty more stringent than might have been expected. It appears that Lord John Russell had applied to Lord Melbourne for some provision for one of the sons of the poet Moore; and here is the Premier’s very judicious reply:—

Ungraceful Observance.

Mr. Torrens M‘Cullagh, in his Life of Sir James Graham, relates the following instance of want of graciousness in this unpopular statesman. In 1837, on the death of King William, Lord John Russell came to the bar of the House of Commons charged with a Message from the Queen. Hats were immediately ordered off, and even the Speaker announced from the chair that members must be uncovered. Every one present complied with the injunction except Sir James Graham, who continued to wear his hat until the first words of the Message were pronounced. His doing so was the subject of some unpleasant remarks in the newspapers; and at the meeting of the House next day he rose to explain that in not taking off his hat until the word Regina was uttered he but followed the old and established custom—a custom which he deemed better than that observed by everybody else in the House. The Speaker then said that Sir James Graham was quite right, that he was strictly within rule in not uncovering until the initiatory word of the Message was delivered. If Sir James Graham had the letter of the law on his side, still there was a stiffness in his conduct which, considering that the message came from a young Queen, and was her first message to her faithful Commons, was not over attractive.

The Partition of Poland.

The royal and imperial spoliators, on various pretexts, poured their armies into the country in 1792. The brave Poles, under Poniatowski and Kosciusko, several times contended against superior armies, but in the end were defeated. Then followed the battle of Warsaw, Oct. 13, 1794; and Suwarrow’s butchery of 30,000 Poles, of all ages and conditions, in cold blood. We can scarcely believe such wholesale atrocities to have been perpetrated upon European soil within seventy years of the time we are writing. Poland was finally partitioned and its political existence annihilated in 1795. The transaction, in its earlier stage, is detailed in the Annual Register for 1771, 1772, and 1773, supposed to have been written by Edmund Burke. Professor Smythe says, diffidently:—“After all, the situation of Poland was such as almost to afford an exception (perhaps a single exception) in the history of mankind to those general rules of justice that are so essential to the great community of nations. I speak with great hesitation, and you must consider the point yourselves; I do not profess to have thoroughly considered it myself.”—(Lectures on Modern History.) Sir James Mackintosh contributed to the Edinburgh Review a valuable paper on Poland.

The Invasion of England.[2]

In contemplating the possibility of an Invasion, we have some right to count upon the changes which modern civilization has introduced into the methods of warfare. It is not improbable that, if it entered into the French Emperor’s plans to invade England, he would make the attempt upon several points at once. The campaign which he sketched out for the use of the allied generals in the Crimea, and which they rejected as impracticable, was based upon this principle. His forces were to be distributed at various points on the circumference of a circle, of which the enemy was to occupy the centre. The enemy was to have all the advantage of concentration; he and his allies were to have all the weakness of division. It is a mode of fighting which is rather at variance with the old Napoleonic ideas, and which would require an overwhelming force to give it effect. As in military numeration the rule of addition is somewhat at fault,—two and two do not always make four, and 200,000 men cannot be computed as ten times stronger than 20,000—we may rest assured that for the successful invasion of England, whether the attack be made by a single armament or by several, a tremendous force must be necessary; and preparations, which will prevent us from being taken altogether by surprise, must be some time in progress.

We shall have a little time to prepare. There is no necessity for our arming to the teeth, and standing to our guns, as if the Philistines were upon us; for there is no need to play the fire-engines before the fire breaks out; but, on the other hand, if we delay our defences on the plea of saving our money till the danger actually comes, when we shall be able to spend it without stint, “it is as if, for a security against fire, you laid by your money at interest, to be expended in making engines and organizing a proper fire brigade as soon as the conflagration commences.” Sir John Burgoyne adds, by way of practical illustration, that 10,000 additional British infantry would have taken Sebastopol before the month of December, 1854, and saved all the sufferings of the winter campaign; “but not all the boasted wealth of England could supply the British infantry required.”—(Military Opinions.)

Suppose the descent to have taken place where it was least expected. Sir John Burgoyne attributes to the invading force the power of landing with marvellous rapidity. People imagine that because, after long training on a particular beach, Napoleon could embark 100,000 soldiers in a space of time measured by minutes, the process of debarkation on an unknown shore must be proportionately rapid. Perhaps no nation can do these things more quickly than our French friends, but they sometimes exaggerate. On landing in the Crimea, where there was no resistance, they indeed succeeded in throwing 6000 men on shore in about twenty-two minutes; and at the end of nearly seven hours (namely a little before two o’clock) Marshal St. Arnaud sent word to Lord Raglan that the disembarkation was complete. But observe that here were seven hours required to land 23,600 men without opposition, and the fact was that the whole of these French troops had really not landed in the time specified. The Special Correspondent of the Times stated that the French were not more advanced than ourselves in the disembarkation, which was carried on long after sunset. More than this, Sir John Burgoyne asks us to consider what would have been the effect of following St. Arnaud’s proposal to land at the mouth of the Katcha. He raises before us a vision of boats closely packed, and rowing on shore in the proper order at the rate of about two miles an hour. From the first they are exposed to the fire of artillery, and for the last 600 yards to a fire of musketry which they are unable to return. Even a small force could, in such circumstances, have punished the allies severely, although ultimately they might have been unable to prevent a landing. If so, it really seems to us that the invasion of our island, though perfectly possible, is not likely to be the simple stepping on shore which some of our military men seem to regard as within the bounds of possibility.—Times review of Sir John Burgoyne’s “Military Opinions.”

What a Militia can do.

“Some people, indeed, talked as if a militia could achieve nothing great. But that base doctrine was refuted by all ancient and modern history. What was the Lacedæmonian phalanx in the best days of Lacedæmon? What was the Roman Legion in the best days of Rome? What were the armies that conquered at Cressy, at Poictiers, at Agincourt, at Halidon, or at Flodden? What was that mighty array which Elizabeth reviewed at Tilbury?[3] In the 14th, 15th, and 16th centuries Englishmen who did not live by the trade of war had made war with success and glory. Were the English of the 17th century so degenerate that they could not be trusted to play the men for their own homesteads and parish churches?”

Gibbon, the historian, who at one part of his life was a captain in the Hampshire regiment of militia, remained ever after sensible of a benefit from it, which he testifies as follows:

White-Boys.

These ferocious rioters in the south of Ireland, early in the reign of George III., were known by the above name, because, as a mark among themselves in their attacks, they frequently wore a shirt over their clothes. Lord Chesterfield writes in 1765, to the Bishop of Waterford:—“I see that you are in fear again from your White-Boys, and have destroyed a good many of them; but I believe that if the military force had killed half as many landlords it would have contributed more effectually to restore quiet. The poor people in Ireland are used worse than negroes by their lords and masters, and their deputies of deputies of deputies.”

Naval Heroes.

How Russia is bound to Germany.

Count Cavour’s Estimate of Napoleon III.

Of the character and policy of Louis Napoleon, Cavour was accustomed to speak with much freedom. No one had better opportunities than Cavour of sounding their depths. He was the only living man who had ventured to grapple with him face to face, and who had used him for his purpose. The estimate he had formed of his capacity was not a high one; but he fully admitted his fertility of resource, his physical and moral courage, and his knowledge of the people he governs. “He has no definite policy,” he remarked to an English friend. “He has a number of political ideas floating in his mind, none of them matured. They would seem to be convictions founded upon instinct. He will not steadily pursue any single idea if a serious object presents itself, but will give way and take up another. This is the mot d’énigme to his policy. It is by steadily keeping this in view that I have succeeded in thwarting his designs, or in inducing him to adopt a measure. The only principle—if principle it can be called—which connects together these various ideas is the establishment of his dynasty, and the conviction that the best way to secure it is by feeding the national vanity of the French people. He found France, after the fall of the Orleanist and Republican Governments, holding but a second place among the great Powers; he has raised her to the very first. Look at his wars, look at his foreign policy; he has never gone one step beyond what was absolutely necessary to obtain this one object. The principle ostentatiously put forward in the first instance has been forgotten or discarded as soon as his immediate end has been accomplished. It was so in the war with Russia; it has been so in the war with Austria. In the Crimea he was satisfied with the success of his army in the capture of Sebastopol, which took from the English troops the glory they had earned by their devotion and courage, and to which they would have added had the war continued. In the struggle with Austria, he was astounded by the greatness of the victories of Magenta and Solferino. The military glory of France had been satiated, and he thought no more of the liberty of Italy, of that free and united nation which he was to have called into existence from the Alps to the Adriatic.

“It is this uncertain policy guided by dynastic and selfish considerations, which makes him so dangerous to you, and which renders it necessary that you should ever be on your guard. Not that he is hostile to England, or that he has any definite design against her. On the contrary, he has much affection for your country. He is a man of generous impulses, and has strong feelings of gratitude towards those who have served and befriended him. At the bottom of his heart he is greatly attached to Italy. His earliest recollections are bound up with her. He is to this day a carbonaro in his desire for Italian freedom and hatred of Austria. He has not forgotten the kindness and hospitality shown to him when an exile in England. He admires your institutions and the character of the English people. But all this is as nothing when compared with the maintenance of his dynasty, the establishment of which he looks upon almost in the light of a religious obligation. If the moment came when he thought a sacrifice necessary to sustain it, however great that sacrifice might be, however painful or repugnant to his feelings, he would make it. No one has had better opportunities of knowing him than I have. He has talked to me with the greatest openness of his future plans. But he has invariably assured me at the same time that his first object was to maintain peace and good understanding with England. I believe,” he solemnly added, “that, from policy, as well as from affection, such are his views; and that only in a moment of the utmost emergency, when he was convinced that his influence in France depended upon it, would he depart from them. But that moment may come, and you would be madmen if you were not prepared for it.”—Quarterly Review, No. 222.

The Mutiny at the Nore.

In 1797, when Capt. William Linder had the Thetis, and was returning to England, having on board the “Prussian subsidy,” amounting to nearly half a million sterling, he was taken prisoner by the mutineer William Parker, and detained, with his vessel and valuable cargo, for a week at the Nore. The rebel, little suspecting the prize he had within his grasp, credited the assertion of Capt. Linder that the aid would shortly arrive, and that he was to be the medium of its transmission to this country. By this ruse, and a promise of assistance by which Parker decided that he would take the grand fleet into Brest, he obtained a pass (it is believed the only one given) from William Parker, and arrived safely with his immense treasure at the Tower, where he immediately landed his golden cargo, and forthwith proceeded to the Admiralty,—also giving information to the minister, Mr. Pitt, of his fortunate escape, which, had it been otherwise, would certainly have turned the tide of success of Old England at that time. Mr. Pitt generously offered him a commission; but Capt. Linder having a fine vessel of his own, and a noble and independent spirit, which he retained to the last, respectfully declined; nor could he be induced in after years to solicit for any recompense or popularity. He died in 1862, May 21, at the age of eighty-seven.—Athenæum.

Catholic Emancipation and Sir Robert Peel.

The House of Coburg.

Some fifty years ago, a young prince of a then obscure German House was serving under the Emperor Alexander in the great war against Napoleon. He was brave, handsome, clever, and, as events have proved, possessed of prudence beyond the ordinary lot of princes or private men. In 1814 he accompanied the Allied Sovereigns to England, and there his accomplishments attracted the attention and engaged the affection of the heiress to the English throne, the Princess Charlotte of Wales. They were married, and though an untimely death was destined soon to sever the union, yet from that time the star of the successful young officer and of the House of Coburg has been in the ascendant. From the vantage-ground of a near connexion with the British Royal Family they have been able to advance to a position in Europe almost beyond the dreams of German ambition. The Coburgs have spread far and wide, and filled the lands with their race.

They have created a new Royal House in England. The Queen is a daughter of Leopold’s sister; her children are the children of Leopold’s nephew. The Coburgs reign in Portugal; they are connected with the royal though fallen House of Orleans, and more or less closely related to the principal families of their own country. Prince Leopold himself has for thirty years governed one of the most important of the minor States of Europe, and his eldest son is wedded to an Archduchess of the Imperial House of Austria. Jealousy and detraction have followed these remarkable successes, but the Coburgs can afford to smile when their rivals sneer, for they have the solid rewards of skill, prudence, and that adaptability to all countries and positions which has distinguished the more able members of their family. It may be added, as the last memorable events in their annals, that two of them have successively had the refusal of the Crown of Greece.

The talents of the Coburgs have been conspicuous. King Leopold, the late Prince Consort, and the present Duke of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, have been men much above the ordinary standard. They have had great opportunities, and they have known how to use them. Neither the Prince Consort nor the King of Portugal could, without offence, have taken a share in the politics of England and Portugal unless they had been gifted with much prudence and circumspection. No one who studies their history will believe that they and their kinsmen have merely had greatness thrust upon them. But, on the other hand, it cannot be doubted that they owe all to the excellent start which Prince Leopold’s good fortune gave their House. Had it not been for the elevation of the young soldier to the highest station in England, the Coburgs, instead of planting dynasties everywhere, might have been no more than any other of the five-and-thirty German reigning families, or the multitude of Princely and Serene, but mediatized personages who are scattered through the land. But when Leopold became an English prince, and his sister was the mother of the heiress presumptive to the British throne, the path to greatness was open to the enterprise of the family. How much one success leads to another in princely life has been shown in their history, and we have adverted to it because, if report speak true, another family, which, a few years since, was of hardly more account in Europe, is at this moment entering on a similar career.—Times.

A Few Years of the World’s Changes.

Noteworthy Pensions.