country. By his conversion to Free Trade he lost the support of the Conservative party, and was expelled from office by a combination which placed him at a hopeless disadvantage. That he would once more have risen to the head of affairs, had not an accident cut short his life, cannot be doubted; but, with the change of Ministry in 1846, his official existence came to a close.

The state of her health precluded the Queen from opening Parliament in person on the 2nd of February, 1843, and for the same reason she was unable to hold the usual spring levees. These were accordingly held by Prince Albert, as the representative of her Majesty; but some members of the Court were so much annoyed at the arrangement, which they regarded as an unwarrantable assumption of Royal functions by the Prince, that they absented themselves from these ceremonial gatherings. The speedy recovery of the sovereign after the birth of the Princess Alice soon enabled her Majesty to occupy once more her proper position at the head of the Court, and the general opinion of the public was quite in favour of the step which had been temporarily adopted. This left Prince Albert free to devote himself with the greater application to his duties as head of the Royal Commission on the Fine Arts, which had been appointed with reference to the decoration of the new Houses of Parliament. In the summer of 1843, several cartoons, on subjects illustrative of English History and Poetry, were exhibited in Westminster Hall, and prizes were offered for the best productions. The collection excited great interest, and large numbers of persons thronged the magnificent old structure, to scan the designs submitted by the competitors. Those which were ultimately selected have been executed in fresco for the two Houses; but, owing either to climate, or to a bad preparation of the colours, or to both causes combined, these fine works have greatly decayed during the short period since their execution. Prince Albert took a keen interest in fresco-painting, and caused a summer-house in the garden of Buckingham Palace to be decorated in this manner. The result was a series of eight pictures in illustration of Milton’s “Comus.” The artists were Sir Edwin Landseer, Maclise, Uwins, Eastlake, Leslie, Sir William Ross, Dyce, and Stanfield; and the progress of their work was closely watched by her Majesty and the Prince. Mr. Uwins, in a letter to a friend, written on the 15th of August, 1843, gives a very interesting account of the impression produced on his mind by the Queen and her gifted consort. “The Queen,” he observes, “is full of intelligence, her observations very acute, and her judgment apparently matured beyond her age. It has happened to me in life to see something of many Royal personages, and I must say, with the single exception of the Duke of Kent, I have never met with any, either in England or on the Continent of Europe, who have impressed me so favourably as our reigning sovereign and her young and interesting husband. Coming to us twice a day, unannounced and without attendants, entirely stripped of all State and ceremony, courting conversation, and desiring rather reason than obedience, they have gained our admiration and love.... Our peaceful pursuits are in accordance with the scene; and the opportunity of watching our proceedings seems to give a zest to the enjoyment of these moments snatched from State parade and ceremony. Here, too, the Royal children are brought out by their nurses, and the whole arrangement seems like real domestic pleasure.”

On the 28th of August—the very day after the prorogation of Parliament—the Queen and Prince Albert embarked at Southampton, to spend a short time with the King of the French, who was staying at Château d’Eu, near Tréport. The voyagers sailed in their new yacht, Victoria and Albert, which was only just finished, but of which we have heard much in later years. For a couple of days they cruised about the Isle of Wight, and along the coast of Devonshire, and then, crossing the Channel, arrived at Tréport on the evening of September 2nd. Louis Philippe came off in his barge to welcome the distinguished visitors, and was accompanied by several members of his family, by M. Guizot, the Minister for Foreign Affairs, by Lord Cowley, the English Ambassador at Paris, and by several officers and others. The English party were rowed ashore in the French barge, over which the Royal Standards of France and England floated in genial companionship. The reception of the Queen was such as almost to overpower her with emotion, and the whole visit appears to have yielded her Majesty the deepest satisfaction. The determination of the Queen and Prince Albert to cross over to France appears to have been unknown to the English Ministers until shortly before the time of starting. There were, of course, some rumours of such an intention; but even in the highest quarters they were disbelieved. In his “Journal,” published in 1857, Mr. Raikes asserts that the whole affair “was a wily intrigue, managed by Louis Philippe through the intervention of his daughter, the Queen of the Belgians, during her frequent visits to Windsor with King Leopold, and was hailed by him with extreme joy, as the first admission of the King of the Barricades within the pale of legitimate sovereigns.” The Duke of Wellington observed to Mr. Raikes, “I was never let into the secret, nor did I believe the report then in circulation, till at last they sent to consult my opinion as to forming a Regency during the Queen’s absence. I immediately referred to precedents as the only proper guide. I told them that George I., George II. (George III. never went abroad), and George IV., had all been obliged to appoint Councils of Regency; that Henry VIII., when he met Francis I. at Ardres, was then master of Calais, as also when he met Charles V. at Gravelines; so that, in these instances, Calais being a part of his dominions, he hardly did more than pass his frontier—not much more than going from one county to the next. Upon this I decided that the Queen could not quit this country without an Act of Regency. But she consulted the Crown lawyers, who decided that it was not necessary.” In days like our own, when the Government of the country is substantially conducted by the Queen’s responsible Ministers, a Council of Regency, if the sovereign is to be absent only a few days, seems entirely unnecessary. The most questionable part of the visit to France in 1843 was the secrecy in which it was involved until shortly before the time of departure.

The Queen’s stay in France, which lasted not more than five days, terminated on the 7th of September. Although courtly writers give one to understand that the only object of the Queen and Prince Albert was to make the personal acquaintance of the French King and his family, with whom they had long maintained cordial relations through the medium of correspondence, it is evident that at least one matter of politics was discussed between the two sovereigns and their Ministers. Louis Philippe was known to entertain a design to marry one of his sons to the Queen of Spain, or to a Spanish Princess, in the hope of renewing that connection between the two countries which has long been an alluring dream of French diplomacy. The project was regarded in England with

the utmost disfavour, and somewhat strained relations had ensued. On her visit to France, the Queen was accompanied by her Foreign Minister, the Earl of Aberdeen, and the matter was talked over by her Majesty, Prince Albert, and Lord Aberdeen, on the one hand, and the French monarch and M. Guizot on the other. In a letter to Baron Stockmar, written shortly after the return to England, Prince Albert states:—“Little passed of a political nature, except

the declaration of Louis Philippe to Aberdeen that he would not give his son to Spain, even if he were asked; and Aberdeen’s answer, that, excepting one of his sons, any aspirant whom Spain might choose would be acceptable to England.” We know now that the French King’s promise was shamefully broken a few years later; but there was no reason at the time to disbelieve his word. England was not unnaturally disquieted by the prospect of an alliance between France and Spain; France, with equal reason, objected to the Queen of Spain marrying a Prince of the House of Coburg, which was the idea favoured by the English Court. Accordingly, a compromise was arranged by Lord Aberdeen and M. Guizot, when it was settled that the French King should renounce all pretensions on the part of any of his sons to the hand of the Queen of Spain; that the sovereign of that country should choose her husband from the descendants of Philip V., so as equally to exclude the Coburgs; and that, as regarded the contemplated marriage of the Duc de Montpensier, youngest son of Louis Philippe, with the Infanta Donna Maria Louisa, sister of the Queen of Spain, no such union should take place till the Queen was married, and had had children; in consideration of which promise, the Queen of England waived all objections to the marriage of Montpensier. The whole transaction seems to have been rather irregular; for negotiations of this nature are generally conducted between Cabinet and Cabinet, acting, of course, through their respective Foreign Ministers. In the present instance, however, the Queen’s visit was kept secret as long as possible, and the negotiation was then settled by Lord Aberdeen and M. Guizot quietly talking it over in a French château. The English visitors seem to have been effectually blinded and lulled to sleep by the wily courtesies of the French monarch; and we have the authority of Prince Albert that Lord Aberdeen was “thoroughly satisfied with everything, and made himself much liked.” A few years later, he made himself “much liked” in Russia, with which country we were about to go to war on questions of gravity and moment. But for the present no one perceived how cleverly we had been tricked, and Lord Brougham wrote effusively to Prince Albert about “the admirable effects produced by the late excursion to France, and the sure tendency of this wise measure to create the best feelings between the two nations.” The Prince himself believed that such would be the case; yet, the very next year, a war between France and England became imminent.

On returning from France, her Majesty and the Prince made a short stay at Brighton, and then started for Belgium on a visit to King Leopold. Leaving Brighton in the Royal yacht on the 12th of September, they arrived at Ostend on the 13th, and, after a six days’ tour in Belgium, during which Bruges, Ghent, Brussels, and Antwerp were visited, returned to Windsor Castle on the 21st of September. “The old cities of Flanders,” writes Prince Albert to Baron Stockmar, “had put on their fairest array, and were very tastefully decorated with tapestries, flowers, trees, pictures, &c., which, combined with the numerous old monuments, churches, and convents, and the gay crowds of people, produced a most peculiar effect. Victoria was greatly interested and impressed; and the cordiality and friendliness which met us everywhere could not fail to attract her towards the Belgian people.” The travels of the Royal couple were now over for a time, and on the 25th of October Prince Albert accompanied the Queen to Cambridge, where his Royal Highness received the degree of Doctor of Civil Law. Both were greeted with marked cordiality, and the Queen afterwards wrote with much satisfaction of the enthusiasm shown by all classes at that famous University, and particularly by the undergraduates. In a letter dated the 4th of November, Professor Sedgwick gave a lively account of the visit paid by the Royal party to the Woodwardian Museum. “The Queen,” he said,

“seemed happy and well pleased, and was mightily taken with one or two of my monsters, especially with the Plesiosaurus and gigantic stag. The subject was new to her; but the Prince evidently had a good general knowledge of the old world, and not only asked good questions, and listened with great courtesy to all I had to say, but in one or two instances helped me on by pointing to the rare things in my collection, especially in that part of it which contains the German fossils. I thought myself very fortunate in being able to exhibit the finest collection of German fossils to be seen in England. They fairly went the round of the Museum; neither of them seemed in a hurry, and the Queen was quite happy to hear her husband talk about a novel subject with so much knowledge and spirit. He called her back once or twice to look at a fine impression of a dragon-fly which I have in the Solenhofen slate. Having glanced at the long succession of our fossils, from the youngest to the oldest, the party again moved into the lecture-room.” The visit to Cambridge lasted only three days, and on the 28th of October the Royal party were back at Windsor.

In the latter days of November, the Queen and Prince Albert visited Sir Robert Peel at Drayton Manor, the country seat of that statesman. While staying here, the Prince made a visit to Birmingham on the 20th of the month. Owing to the turbulent character of that town, where the principles of Chartism were in the ascendant, and riots had occurred but recently, Sir James Graham and some members of the Government considered it imprudent for his Royal Highness to venture into such a vortex of extravagant opinions. The Prince, however, was not unaware that his greatest enemies were to be found rather in the upper and official circles than among the populace; and he therefore did not fear throwing himself upon the hospitality of the Birmingham people. “The Mayor, who accompanied the Prince in the carriage,” wrote Mr. Anson on the same day, “is said to be a Chartist, and to hold extreme views. He said that the visit had created the greatest enthusiasm;—that it had brought into unison and harmony opposite political parties, who had shown the deepest hatred towards each other; and that it had been productive of the happiest results in Birmingham. He also said he would vouch for the devoted loyalty of the whole Chartist body. The Queen had not more loyal subjects in her dominions.” From Drayton Manor, the Royal party proceeded to Chatsworth, the seat of the Duke of Devonshire, and afterwards to Belvoir Castle, belonging to the Duke of Rutland. In the Belvoir neighbourhood, the Prince distinguished himself in the hunting-field, though he had no great inclination for that kind of sport. It had been thought that his Royal Highness, as a scholar, and a man much given to retirement, was scarcely possessed of sufficient spirit to face the perils of the chase. He had therefore fallen a good deal in the estimation of men who consider that the larger part of human virtue is comprised in the ability to preserve a good seat on horseback, and to clear a five-barred gate with complete indifference as to what may be on the other side. His performances in the vicinity of Belvoir Castle completely re-established him in the estimation of these persons, and, as Baron Stockmar afterwards observed, such a reputation was not without practical value while fox-hunting continued to be an English national pursuit. The Prince rode boldly and well, and, while some others were thrown, kept his saddle to the last.

One of the favourite studies of Prince Albert was that of agriculture—a science which he found in a very backward state in England, and which he did much to improve. The growing of crops and the rearing of live stock engaged

much of his attention, and he established a model farm in Windsor Park, which showed how much may be effected by intelligent supervision, and a systematic application of those scientific principles which modern times have placed at the disposal of enterprising men. At the chief agricultural shows, his name soon became familiar as a constant and often successful exhibitor, and nothing gave him greater pleasure than any notable achievement in this field of human industry. Speaking of the model works in Windsor Park, a contemporary writer observed that “the most practical man could not go that pleasant round, from the Flemish farm to the Norfolk, and so back again by the Home and the Dairy, without learning something wherever he went.” The farm at Windsor was established about the end of 1840, and the Prince always took the greatest interest in the working of his establishment. On the 30th of October, 1843, he wrote to Baron Stockmar that the prices of cattle were up again, and that he had netted a very good return from his auction in the Park. Since the death

of his Royal Highness, the farm has been continued with equal zeal by the Queen; and the Prince of Wales has also shown an intelligent interest in pursuits and experiments calculated to raise in no slight degree the productive powers of our country.

While the Queen was gaining a more extended knowledge of her home dominions, and Prince Albert was interesting himself in many departments of science and art, some events were passing in India, to which brief reference should be made. During the Afghan war of 1838-9, the Anglo-Indian Government intimated its intention to take temporary possession of Shikarpoor, in Scinde, an independent State in the north-west of the Peninsula. The Ameers of Hyderabad and Mizpoor thereupon assented to a treaty which placed them under the control of Calcutta; but the people themselves never agreed to this sacrifice, and the British Residency at Hyderabad was attacked in the early part of 1843. Hereupon, the British envoy, Sir Charles James Napier, marched a large military force against the malcontents, routed them at Meeanee on the 17th of February, and, by a further victory on March 24th, completed the subjugation of Scinde. During the next two years, the country continued in a state of extreme agitation, owing to the depredations of certain marauding tribes in the west; but these brigands were hunted down, and at length entirely extirpated, by the conqueror of Scinde, whose unresting energy and fiery resolution procured from him, from his half-admiring adversaries, the title of “the Devil’s Brother.” The administration of the province has greatly improved since then; but it may be questioned whether its annexation was not an act of high-handed power, which the concomitant circumstances were insufficient to justify.

In the latter part of the same year, another war broke out in Asia. The State of Gwalior, situated in Central India, had been under our protection since 1803; but the death of the native sovereign, in 1843, produced a degree of anarchy which led to the interposition of the British Government. Lord Ellenborough made a public announcement that he could “neither permit the existence of an unfriendly Government with the territories of Scindia” (the reigning family in that part of Hindostan), “nor that those territories should be without a Government capable of coercing its own subjects.” This was on the 20th of December; on the 29th, the army of Gwalior, under the command of Sir Hugh Gough, Commander-in-Chief, and in presence of the Governor-General, defeated the native forces at Maharajpoor. On the same day, the left wing of the army, under Major-General Grey, defeated the enemy at Punniar; and the strong fort of Gwalior, sometimes called “the Gibraltar of the East,” was taken by our soldiers. By a treaty concluded in January, 1844, the native dynasty was permitted to retain 9,000 troops of its own, in addition to a large contingent under British authority; and Gwalior still preserves a certain amount of independence, though strictly under the supervision of the Anglo-Indian Government.

CHAPTER IX.

IRELAND, RUSSIA, AND FRANCE.

The aims of O’Connell were far more national than political. He was studying in France when the great Revolution broke out, and its horrors made such an impression on his mind that he returned to his own country “half a Tory at heart.” His views were never what might be called Radical or democratic—though in many respects liberal; but he was a consummate demagogue—that is to say, a man gifted with a marvellous capacity of exciting, swaying, and controlling the mobs which were at once the sources and the subjects of his power. To these results, his commanding figure, expressive countenance, and splendid voice, contributed not a little. It may be doubted if there has ever been so accomplished an agitator in the modern world: those of the ancient republics spoke to much smaller audiences. One secret of his success (so far as he can be said to have succeeded) lay in the complete harmony which existed between himself and the majority of the Irish people. His face declared him to be an unmixed Celt, of the Hibernian variety; and not merely his face, but every throb of his nature. Passionate, impulsive, violent in thought and in expression, boastful, wayward, pathetic, and humorous, he drew from all these qualities a species of eloquence peculiarly suited to the audiences he addressed. In the open air, on a bleak hill-side, he would bring together thousands of half-barbarian peasantry, and play upon them, as a master plays upon an instrument. He had the almost unparalleled gift of stimulating his hearers to the very brink of some mad outbreak, and of restraining them at the last moment. It must be recorded to the credit of O’Connell that he always repudiated and condemned the resort to physical force, and that he did actually avoid it. Yet the turmoil he created was almost as distracting as civil war, and the gigantic failure of the Repeal movement was written in gloomy characters all over Ireland.

O’Connell had sat in the Imperial Parliament since 1829; and even in the House of Commons his fervid and headlong eloquence was often most impressive. But his greatest triumphs belonged, doubtless, to what may be called the platform order of oratory. The champion of Repeal had an unexampled command over the vocabulary of abuse; though it must be admitted that some of his opponents were not far behind in this effective accomplishment. Not only was O’Connell in the habit of referring, in general terms, to “the base, brutal, and bloody Saxon” (by whom, it may be necessary to explain, he meant the English people), but he attacked particular individuals with a ferocity of invective which was frequently more ludicrous than terrible. Unquestionably he had some of the characteristics of a great orator; yet his style was often tawdry, and his sentiment overwrought. Partly, perhaps, by virtue of these very characteristics, he acquired such an influence over the Roman Catholic Irish that there were but few things they would not have done, or abstained from doing, at a word from him. How far he was an honest man, is a subject which has been much disputed. It seems impossible to doubt that he loved his country, however imprudently; but it is also very difficult not to believe that he loved himself quite as much. In order to carry on his agitation, he called for the formation of a fund which came to be termed the Repeal Rent, and which was derived almost entirely from the weekly contributions of the poverty-stricken cotters of Ireland. These payments went into the hands of the Liberator, as O’Connell was fondly called; and it was asserted by many that the larger part was expended by him on his own gratifications. His advocates defend him in this respect by saying that he gave up a magnificent practice at the bar for the sake of conducting the Repeal movement, and that therefore he had a moral claim to some other source of income. But this is surely making patriotism easy, and even pleasant, after a fashion never before dreamt of by patriots of exalted character. It would appear also that in some instances O’Connell wrung their contributions from

the peasantry by absolute coercion, and that his ordinary dealings with his own tenants were particularly bad, since he acted as a “Middleman,” who appropriated three times as much rent as he paid to the head-landlord.[16] It is no answer to such statements to say that O’Connell died poor, for the Repeal Rent—long the chief source of his income—had dwindled to nothing for some few years before his death.

At the beginning of 1843, the Liberator declared that that year was and should be “the Repeal Year.” He had for several months been endeavouring to strike a blow at British commerce by directing his followers to refuse all articles of British manufacture, and by setting an example in the garments which he himself wore. But this had very little effect; for the poor, who form the majority in Ireland, could not afford to indulge their national antipathies at the cost of higher-priced and probably inferior goods. It was therefore necessary to hold open-air meetings on a gigantic scale and in quick succession, though in 1843 the arch-agitator was about sixty-eight years of age. O’Connell not unfrequently touched on the land question which has given so much trouble in more recent times, and flattered Irish agriculturists with the hope of obtaining farms at no great sacrifice on their own parts. But the main object of his life, after the achievement of Roman Catholic Emancipation, was the passing of a measure for Repeal. The methods he pursued were sometimes not a little puzzling to English minds. While using language towards the British Parliament and the British people which looked like an indirect incentive to rebellion, notwithstanding its saving clauses, O’Connell would pour out the most flattering homage to the Queen; even prophesying that the time would come when her Majesty would gladly fly from her Tory enemies, and seek refuge among her faithful Irish—with a view, it would seem to have been implied, of ruling England from Ireland. All this nonsense pleased those who listened to it; but it was only so much byplay. The real agitation was far more serious; at one time it looked formidable. From the spring to the autumn of 1843, numerous meetings (generally on Sunday, that more might attend) were held in various parts of Ireland, at the bidding of O’Connell, and with the sanction of the priesthood of all grades. They were attended by enormous numbers, several of whom had marched, in a semi-military fashion, many miles from their homes. It is said that at some of these gatherings no fewer than a quarter of a million persons were present; and it was remarked as singular that, during the agitation, crime became almost extinct. This was partly due to the sweet, persuasive exhortations of the Apostle of Temperance, Father Mathew, who had recently produced a most remarkable effect in checking drunkenness in Ireland, and causing many thousands to take the pledge of total abstinence. But it must in some degree be ascribed to the fact that the minds of the humbler classes were occupied by serious thoughts of a political character, and influenced by an excitement which left room for no other. The exultation of passion had for a time superseded the insane fury of the whisky-bottle.

At the open-air meetings, the speeches of O’Connell were characterised by his most effective style of popular oratory. The unapproachable excellence of Ireland, the unexampled baseness and cruelty of England, were the themes on which he principally dwelt. All the miseries of his native land would be removed as soon as an Irish Parliament was once more sitting on College Green. That event would be brought about in not more than a year; and then the golden age of Ireland would begin. A good many picturesque but rather theatrical accessories were introduced on these occasions. Banners, showy decorations, and exciting music, accompanied the march of the peasantry, and at an unusually large meeting on the hill of Tara—a spot where the ancient kings of Ireland used to be elected—O’Connell himself was crowned with a species of semi-regal cap. This was on the 15th of August: on the 8th of October, an immense meeting was to be held at Clontarf, three miles from Dublin. But the Government now thought that matters were proceeding to a dangerous length. They had already passed an Arms Act for Ireland, by which great restrictions were laid on the possession of deadly weapons; they had concentrated large bodies of troops in the disaffected country; and, by a proclamation issued on the 7th of October, they forbade the contemplated assemblage. It was certainly a wise resolution. In spite of his repeated declarations that nothing was to be done of an illegal nature, O’Connell had of late used several expressions well calculated to stir up an excitable people like the Irish to rebellion and civil war. There was unquestionably no slight danger of an outbreak, and it was high time for the “base, brutal, and bloody Saxon” to show that his patience had a limit.

Had the meeting been held, it is not improbable that a collision would have taken place between the populace and the soldiery. O’Connell, however, at once issued a proclamation of his own, declaring that the orders of the Lord Lieutenant must be obeyed, and that the people must return to their homes. Why the meeting was not forbidden by the Government until the very day before it was to be held, is a State secret which has never been explained. The people were already coming in from all the country round, and, as a large military force was massed together on the spot, it is wonderful that a sanguinary combat did not ensue. Some members of the Repeal Association stationed themselves on the roads approaching Clontarf to turn back as many as they could; but several arrived on the early morning of the 8th, and speedily found themselves between close lines of troops. The mandate of the Liberator, however, was obeyed with marvellous alacrity, and the meeting (such as it was) dispersed without any untoward event. The Government had at length done what it ought to have done before; and it was now resolved to take a further step—namely, to prosecute the chief agitator and his colleagues. O’Connell, his son, and eight others, were arrested on charges of conspiracy, sedition, and unlawful assembling. Nothing could exceed the dismay of the Liberator at the prospect which now opened before him. He issued addresses to the people, passionately exhorting them to observe the utmost forbearance and moderation, and seemed to consider that his pacific words would utterly obliterate the effect of the inflammatory language he had used only a few weeks before. In point of fact, they nearly obliterated himself. The Repeal Association broke up into two camps. One, consisting of the older members, clung to their accustomed leader; the other, composed of all the youthful and fiery spirits, formed a new combination, which was afterwards known as that of “Young Ireland,” and which openly declared its intention to rebel at the very earliest opportunity.

The proceedings against O’Connell and his associates commenced formally on the 2nd of November, 1843, in the Dublin Court of Queen’s Bench; but the actual trial did not begin until the 16th of January, 1844. Owing, it would seem, to some error, the jury consisted entirely of Protestants, who, as a rule, were not likely to have much regard for the author of Roman Catholic Emancipation; but whether this circumstance, however unfortunate and objectionable, had any real effect upon the verdict, it would be somewhat dangerous to pronounce. The trial did not terminate until the 12th of February, nor was

sentence passed before the 30th of May, 1844. With one exception, all the prisoners were found guilty, and sentences of varying severity were pronounced. O’Connell was condemned to one year’s imprisonment, to pay a fine of £2,000, and to enter into security and recognisances, in the sum of £5,000, for his good behaviour during a term of seven years. The others were sentenced to nine months’ imprisonment, together with a fine of £50, and were ordered to find securities for the same period as their leader, in the sum of £1,000. They were removed to the Richmond Penitentiary at Dublin. The Liberator issued a proclamation to the Irish people, commanding them to keep perfectly quiet; but at the same time he transmitted a writ of error to London, in order that the legality of the sentence might be reconsidered. The Lords, to whom the appeal was made, referred the matter to the twelve Judges; the Judges were not agreed as to the technical points involved; and the question went back again to the Lords. The decision now rested with four Law Lords, three of whom—Lords

Denman, Cottenham, and Campbell—voted that the judgment of the Irish Court should be reversed. The only dissentient was Lord Brougham; but his single vote was, of course, inoperative. O’Connell, therefore, had gained a legal triumph, and he was released from prison in the midst of a popular ovation. The decision of the Lords was pronounced on the 4th of September, by which time, O’Connell and his friends had already undergone a considerable portion of their imprisonment. They had been treated with great leniency, however, and O’Connell was allowed to see his admirers in jail to an extent which appears to have positively injured his health. Certain it is that he was never again the vigorous man he had been; but this result was probably owing in a much greater degree to disappointment, and humiliation of spirit. His power had passed away from him. Younger and more energetic men were taking his place; the English Government had shown its power to handle the agitator firmly; age was creeping upon him; and he did little more during the remainder of his days. In the latter part of 1846, his health and spirits were so completely broke that he could not endure any allusions to his beloved Ireland and her future. Early in 1847, he commenced a journey to Rome, where he desired to close his career in the very bosom of the Church to which he had always been attached. His mind was tortured by many painful memories, for in his earlier years his life had been open to reproach in more ways than one. An overmastering dread of death now came upon him, and one of his last fears was that he should be buried alive. His earnest desire to reach the Eternal City was denied him. He could get no farther than Genoa; and there he expired on the 15th of May, 1847, leaving behind him a great, but on the whole not a happy, reputation.

It was feared by many persons in England that the trial and conviction of O’Connell would raise such a tumult amongst the Irish party in the Legislature, and their Liberal allies, as to endanger the existence of the Government. This proved not to be the fact; but it was certainly a reasonable forecast, and it was the view formed by Baron Stockmar, who from his German home watched with interest the progress of events in England and Ireland. In a letter to Prince Albert, dated November 27th, 1843, he says:—“It is an old principle with me, to form no judgments at a distance upon matters which lie far away from my sphere of observation. Consequently, I can only express mere feelings in so far as personal matters are concerned. The news of the O’Connell trial took me by surprise, and threw me into an uneasy state of mind, that set me thinking, not so much what might ensue from a favourable or unfavourable issue to the prosecution, as what the Ministry are to do with their victory, supposing them to get one. To my thinking, victory is likely to prove more dangerous than failure; and apprehensions seized me, which I still entertain, that this trial may very possibly lead to a speedy termination of the Peel Ministry.” Not only was this anticipation falsified, but the Government gained in strength from its virtual triumph over O’Connell. Measures of a really beneficial character to Ireland were passed about this period, and for a time the disaffection of the country underwent considerable abatement.

In the early part of 1844, a great affliction fell upon Prince Albert. His father died on the 29th of January, and, although such an event had been anticipated for some time past, the shock was none the less on that account. The grief of the Queen was almost equal to the Prince’s own, and a deep gloom settled down upon the Royal circle. On the 4th of February, Prince Albert wrote to Baron Stockmar:—“God will give us all strength to bear the blow becomingly. That we were separated gives it a peculiar poignancy. Not to see him, not to be present to close his eyes, not to help to comfort those he leaves behind, and to be comforted by them, is very hard. Here we sit together, poor Mamma, Victorie, and myself, and weep, with a great, cold public around us, insensible as stone. To have some true, sympathetic friend at hand would be a great solace. Come to us in this time of trouble, if come you can.... The world is assuredly not our true happiness; and, alas! every day’s experience forces me to see how wicked men are. Every imaginable calumny is heaped upon us, especially upon me; and although a pure nature, conscious of its own high purposes, is and ought to be lifted above attacks, still it is painful to be misrepresented by people of whom one believed better things.” On the 28th of March, the Prince left England for his father’s small dominions, in order to assist his brother Ernest in commencing his duties as the reigning Duke. It was the first time that he and the Queen had ever been parted since their marriage, and both felt the separation acutely. Two days before the Prince’s departure, the Queen of the Belgians reached Buckingham Palace, to spend a brief time with the English sovereign during the period of her solitude; and King Leopold himself arrived a few days later. On the 11th of April, the Prince was back again at Windsor. He records in his diary that he arrived at six o’clock in the evening, in the midst of “great joy.”

The Queen’s birthday was approaching even before the Prince left England; and the latter had already given orders for the preparation of two gifts to her Majesty, which he knew would be very acceptable. On the 5th of March, Prince Albert asked Mr. Eastlake, the painter, if he could execute by the 24th of May a little picture of angels, such as he had introduced into his fresco in the pavilion of Buckingham Palace Gardens. He promised to do the picture by the time mentioned, although he was already at work on one for her Majesty. The other present was a miniature portrait of the Prince himself, by Thorburn, taken in armour, in accordance with a wish frequently expressed by the Queen. The portrait is a full-length, and is said by her Majesty to give the Prince’s real expression more than anything that she knew. “During the fatal illness, and on the last morning of his life,” she writes on the 20th of December, 1873, “he was wonderfully like this picture.” The lower part of the face was done in half an hour, and the whole character and aspect are extremely noble. The two pictures were presented to the Queen on her birthday, at Claremont, where the Royal couple were staying.

The King of Saxony was at this time expected at Buckingham Palace, and he arrived there on the 1st of June. Only two days before, her Majesty and the Prince had been somewhat surprised at hearing that the Emperor of Russia was on his way to visit the English Court, and that he might be looked for at almost any moment. He reached London on the night of June 1st, and remained until the following morning at the Russian Embassy. Next day, he was brought by Prince Albert to Buckingham Palace, where he became the guest of her Majesty, though he again went to the Embassy at night, having resolved for the present not to occupy the apartments prepared for him at the Palace. On the 3rd of June, he was escorted by Prince Albert from the Slough Station to Windsor Castle, whither the Court had now removed.

The habits of this Northern potentate were in some respects remarkably simple and austere. All through his life, he slept on a leathern sack, stuffed with hay or straw. The sack thus filled was stretched upon a camp-bed, and the Emperor never intermitted this custom, even when on a visit to foreign Courts. He produced a very marked impression on the Queen and Prince Albert, and the former, writing to her uncle, the King of the Belgians, on the 4th of June, observes of the Emperor:—“He is certainly a very striking man, still very handsome; his profile is beautiful, and his manners most dignified and graceful; extremely civil, quite alarmingly so, as he is so full of attention and politesse. But the expression of the eyes is severe, and unlike anything I ever saw before. He gives Albert and myself the impression of a man who is not happy, and on whom the burden of his immense power and position weighs heavily and painfully. He seldom smiles, and, when he does, the expression is not a happy one. He is very easy to get on with.” Lady Lyttelton says in one of her letters:—“The only fault in his face is that he has pale eyelashes, and his enormous and very brilliant eyes have no shade; besides which, they have the awful look given by occasional glimpses of white above the eyeball, which comes from his father Paul, I suppose, and gives a savage wildness, for a moment, pretty often.”

He and the King of Saxony were delighted with Windsor, and the Emperor said that the English Court was conducted on the noblest scale of any Court he had ever seen, everything being done without effort, and as if it were the ordinary condition of affairs. The Autocrat of the Russias abounded in gallant speeches to the British sovereign, and pleased her much by his high praises of Prince Albert. Her Majesty was at first a good deal opposed to the visit, seeming to entertain some vague feelings of apprehension on political grounds; but, after a few days, she conceived a sentiment of friendship for him, and in writing to King Leopold expressed her conviction that he was truthful and sincere. She did not regard him as very clever, and she saw that his mind was far from cultivated. The arts, which were so dear to her own husband, he regarded with entire want of interest, and confined his attention solely to politics and military affairs. He showed much alarm about the condition of the East, and professed the greatest anxiety to be on good terms with this country. Speaking of sovereign rulers to her Majesty, he made use of an expression which was very remarkable as coming from him; being to the effect that in modern times all princes should strive to make themselves worthy of their position, so as to reconcile people to the fact of their being princes. This does not seem much in accordance with the ideas or practices of the Czar Nicholas; but his discernment may have taught him what his position, his passions, or his habits, did not allow him to carry out.

The Russian Emperor and the King of Saxony attended Ascot Races on the 4th of June, and witnessed a review in Windsor Park on the 5th. Every evening, a great dinner was served in the Waterloo Room at Windsor Castle.