Mr. Roebuck and Emigration—Self-Government and the Colonies—Unsympathetic Whig Policy—Radicals and the Colonial Office—The Peelites and Hudson’s Bay Company—Financial Reform—Mr. Cobden at Variance with Mr. Bright—Combined Agitators—The Demand for Retrenchment—Trade and the Flag—Tories and Taxes—A reductio ad absurdum—A Raid on a Surplus—International Arbitration—Parliamentary Reform—Parliament and the Jews—The Tories oppose the Alteration of the Parliamentary Oath—Episcopal Prejudice—Tory Obstructionists—An Ordnance Department Scandal—Mr. Delane’s Attacks on Lord Palmerston in the Times—The Queen Remonstrates against Lord Palmerston’s Recklessness—An Anti-Palmerstonian Cabal—Lady Palmerston’s Intrigues—Lord Brougham Betrays the Cabal—Palmerston’s Victory—Rome and France—The Second War—The Disaster of Chillianwalla—Indignation of the Country—Lord Gough’s Recall—Napier to the Rescue—The East India Directors Oppose Napier’s Appointment—The Convict War at the Cape—Boycotting the Governor.
Another notable event in the Colonial history of 1849 was the introduction by Mr. Roebuck, on the 14th of May, of a Bill for the better government of the Colonies. The debate on this measure brought vividly before the minds of thoughtful men the folly upon which our step-motherly treatment of the Colonies was based. “Emigration by itself,” exclaimed Mr. Roebuck, “is misery;” and yet the idea of colonisation which prevailed at the Colonial Office was simply to transport as many people as possible to distant wilds, utterly regardless of their ultimate fate. Why should we not introduce something like system, asked Mr. Roebuck, into our Colonial policy, and recognise the fact that it was now not tribute, but trade that we might expect to get from them? His proposal was to have one plan for settling a colony, another for organising it when settled, and a third for groups of colonies in confederation or union. His panacea for all Colonial ills was to get rid of “red tape” at the Colonial Office and to give the Colonies Home Rule. The difficulties, said Mr. Hawes, as representing Lord Grey and the Colonial Office, in the way of granting Home Rule to North-American Colonies would be insuperable; besides, England had far too many Colonies already, so that it was of little use to bring forward schemes for settling new ones! Whigs like Lord John Russell condemned a policy which tended to substitute a fixed Parliamentary rule for the discretion of a responsible Minister, and contended that physical impediments rendered the union of Canada into one Dominion impossible. Mr. Gladstone, however, warmly supported Mr. Roebuck’s policy. Even then the leaven of the Home Ruler was working in his mind. Mr. Roebuck was beaten by 116 to 73. But this did not put a stop to these Colonial debates.
On the 26th of June Sir William Molesworth moved an Address to the Queen begging for a Commission to inquire into the Administration of the Colonies, more especially with a view to lessen the cost of their government, and to give free scope to individual enterprise in colonising. He startled the House by quoting figures which showed that, in fifteen years, “a series of remarkable events in the Colonies” had cost England the modest sum of eighty millions sterling. It could not have cost more to settle 4,000,000 able and energetic emigrants in Australia alone; and yet in the whole Colonial Empire in 1849, it appears there were not more than 1,000,000 persons of British or Irish descent. Charles Buller some years before had condemned the Colonial Office for its arbitrary character, its indifference to local feeling, and its ignorance of local wants, its procrastination and vacillation, its secrecy and irresponsibility, its servitude to parties and cliques, its injustice, and its disorder. In this debate Lord Grey’s Administration was held to aptly illustrate all these vices; and yet Lord Grey had become Colonial Minister because he stood pledged to cure them. Lord Grey’s idea of Colonial government seemed to be either to rule the Colony with a high hand from London, or, if it had some semblance of representative institutions, to govern it by means of a violent Party minority in the popular Chamber, co-operating with a majority of the Council nominated by the Crown. Self-government for Colonies that were fit for it, and intelligent government for those that were not, were Sir William Molesworth’s remedies. A strong plea for reducing the extravagant outlay on official salaries and useless military expenditure was pressed; and protests against convict emigration, which, together with our misgovernment, drove honest English Colonists to the United States, were entered. Mr. Hume and Mr. Gladstone, on behalf of the Radicals and Peelites, gave a general support to the motion; but the indefatigable Mr. Hawes came smilingly to the defence of Lord Grey with his stereotyped “Non possumus,” and Lord John Russell declared that the scope of the reference to the Commission was too vast and wide for practical purposes. His novel argument was that to attempt to define the limits of Imperial and local questions must end in bitter disputes between the Colonies and the mother country. Undeterred by the failure of the Radicals to force a rational Colonial policy on the Whigs, the Peelites next took up the matter, and on the 19th of June Lord Lincoln moved an Address to the Crown expressing the opinion that the Hudson’s Bay Company, to which Vancouver Island had been granted by Royal Charter, was ill-adapted for ruling or developing the resources of a colony founded on principles of political and commercial freedom, and generally challenging the validity of the grant. One would have thought that it needed little argument to demonstrate the unwisdom of founding a colony to be ruled by an absentee proprietary, earning its revenues by a trading monopoly. The history of the United States was full of examples of this species of folly, and both Lord Lincoln and Mr. Hume argued their case with the greatest ability. But they spoke to no purpose, for just as Mr. Hume was warming to his work the House was counted out! In these days, when the air is full of schemes for Imperial Federation, and Home Rule, it is interesting to note how, in 1849, the battle of Colonial Reform was fought by a combination of Conservative Peelites and “stalwart” Radicals, against the Whigs, who were jealously opposed to all extensions of Colonial autonomy.
After Colonial policy, and not long after it in point of interest, came Finance. The erratic schemes of the Chancellor of the Exchequer in the preceding year, together with the distress which afflicted the country, had made everybody dissatisfied with the financial policy of the Government. The Protectionists were always at hand to suggest that the pressure of taxation was due to Free Trade. The Free Traders were never weary of retorting that it was due to extravagant expenditure, and could be remedied by retrenchment. Mr. Cobden and Mr. Bright thus felt that their mission in life did not end with the Repeal of the Corn Laws. If they were to keep the ground they had taken, it seemed to them they must start an agitation to reduce public expenditure. Mr. Bright rather favoured the notion of agitating for an extension of the Franchise, on the supposition that, if more taxpayers had votes, Government, in deference to their prejudices, would be chary of augmenting public burdens. Ultimately, however, they agreed to combine the two agitations,[1] and work with each other as before. The popular feeling in favour of economy was first manifested by the formation of Financial Reform Associations in the large towns—that of Liverpool being especially energetic—and they were soon busy discussing a practical plan, which emanated from the fertile brain of Cobden, for the remission of the Malt Tax and other public burdens. Cobden’s scheme was simply to effect retrenchment by going back to the scale of expenditure that was deemed adequate in 1835, and in this way he proposed to reduce taxation by about £10,000,000 sterling. Quite a flutter of excitement ran through the
House of Commons when, on the 26th of February, he brought his plan under its notice. He contended that military expenditure had caused the increase of £10,000,000, which he desired to reduce. Therefore he moved that the expenditure under this head be diminished with all practicable speed. The insular position of England was itself a sure defence against her enemies.
Provided she did not interfere recklessly with foreign nations, she had less to fear in 1849 than in 1835. Why, then, should the military and naval expenditure of 1835 be exceeded? Vast sums of money, too, were spent on the Colonies. Here also a reduction might be effected, for the English taxpayer got no more food from the Colonies than the foreign one did. At this period it was evident that Mr. Cobden had not put to the test the sound maxim that “trade follows the flag.” The answer of the Chancellor of the Exchequer was that in 1835, to the expenditure of which Mr. Cobden wanted to revert, no adequate provision had been made for the true wants of the country; and that, since then, many things had happened to increase expenditure unavoidably. The introduction of steam into the Navy was an illustration of these changes. Moreover, the Government had reduced expenditure by about a million and a half sterling—and that was surely a pledge of their earnestness as financial reformers.
The Tories put Mr. Herries forward to attack both parties. He blamed Ministers for encouraging the financial reformers, and denounced Mr. Cobden for the violence of his speeches out of doors on the subject. The policy of the Tories was to demand that expenditure should not be lessened, whilst there was ground for anxiety as to foreign affairs. One of their arguments was an odd one. It was that, as the revenue was still maintained in spite of the repeal of vast sums of taxation, there was no ground for pretending that retrenchment was necessary because the people felt that taxation was pressing hard on them. They did not seem to see that this was either an argument in favour of raising revenue without imposing any taxes at all—which was a reductio ad absurdum—or an argument to show that reductions of taxation still left Government with enough money in hand to defend the interests of the country, which was virtually an admission that Mr. Cobden’s plan, if tried, could do no harm. The Free Traders made a bid for the rural vote by arguing that, if the landed interest wanted the relief which the Protectionists promised them, they ought to vote for the reduction in expenditure, which would enable Parliament to grant that relief. Mr. Cobden’s first scheme of Financial Reform was rejected by a vote of 275 to 78. But this did not allay the uneasiness of the public, who began to fret over the extraordinary delay that took place in the production of the Budget. It was not till the 29th of June that Sir Charles Wood made his financial statement to the House. It was not a cheering one. The expenditure, which was £53,287,110, had exceeded the Ministerial estimate by £1,219,379, and it exceeded the revenue of the year by £269,378. Of course, by excluding unexpected outlays on Irish distress, Canadian emigration, &c., a more favourable state of accounts could be shown; but, as the excluded money had been spent, there was really no reason for ignoring it. For the coming year his estimated expenditure, he said, would be £52,157,696, and his estimated receipts would yield, he hoped, a surplus over that of £94,304. Sir Charles Wood’s strongest points were that every effort would be made to keep current expenditure within current income, and that instead of using small surpluses to remit small sums of taxation, they would be kept as the nucleus of large surpluses, for the reduction of large amounts of taxation. The Radicals and Financial Reformers were not satisfied with Sir Charles Wood’s long list of objectionable taxes that had been removed. In spite of all that, expenditure increased—and what was worse, there was a steady increase in permanent burdens on the revenue, in the shape of charges for the Public Debt. Mr. Hume demanded that Excise be done away with, and that the example of Sir James Graham, who reduced the expenses of the Admiralty by £1,200,000, be followed. Mr. Milner Gibson attacked the paper duty, the newspaper stamp duty, and the tax on advertisements, as taxes on knowledge; and he cited the petition of the Messrs. Chambers of Edinburgh, who declared that the paper duty had stopped the continuance of a work for the humbler classes which they were bringing out, and of which there had been a sale of 80,000 copies. Everybody wanted some special duty repealed, either that on hops, bricks, soap, beer, malt, tea, or timber. The Budget was felt to be unsatisfactory, for, as Mr. Cobden said, it made the two ends barely meet. At the close of the Session (20th of July) Mr. Herries supplemented this discussion by starting another question—that of raising some portion of the supplies of the State by a fixed duty on corn. The Protectionists argued that Sir Charles Wood’s estimates were too sanguine, and that more taxes must be imposed on the people, unless a small duty were put on foreign corn. This was not to be a protective duty, but one merely for revenue purposes, and as such surely it was justifiable. It would be only a tax on food in name; in fact, the defence of the proposal was like the Irish vagrant’s apology for the existence of her baby—“Please, sir, it’s only a very little one.” Of course the Free Traders sprang upon Mr. Herries with great glee. The Tories were going round the country promising the farmers Protection. But when they came to the House of Commons all they ventured to ask for was a small fixed duty on corn, which was to be levied not for protective but for revenue purposes. The position was an awkward one for Mr. Herries. Either his small fixed duty did or did not raise the price of corn. If it did, he was deceiving the House of Commons. If it did not, he was deceiving his clients among the farmers. His move was obviously one for putting heart into a desponding faction.
It has been said that Mr. Cobden and Mr. Bright had come to the conclusion that, side by side with the agitation for retrenchment, there should be pressed forward that for Parliamentary Reform. Accordingly, Mr. Hume introduced his motion for Parliamentary Reform in the House of Commons on the 4th of June, demanding Household Suffrage, Vote by Ballot, Triennial Parliaments, and something approaching to equal electoral districts. The opposition of the Whigs, who argued that reform was unnecessary because many good measures had been passed by Parliament, and that to extend the franchise would endanger the Monarchy, induced the House to reject the motion by a vote of 268 to 82.
But a topic far more interesting to the Queen, whose speciality is Foreign Policy, was brought under the notice of the House of Commons by Mr. Cobden a few days after Mr. Hume’s motion was disposed of. He suggested a plan whereby wars might cease, and civilised nations might compose their quarrels by Arbitration. On the 12th of June Cobden moved an Address to the Crown, praying that Foreign Powers might be invited to concur in treaties binding them to accept Arbitration in settling their disputes with each other. The Government did not openly resist the motion. They got rid of it by putting up Lord Palmerston to move the “previous question;” but the tone of the debate showed that, though the House was dubious about the practicability of Mr. Cobden’s plan, it had been profoundly impressed with his reasoning.
The Whigs, embarrassed by the refusal of Jewish Members to take the Parliamentary Oath, next introduced a Bill expunging from the form of the oath the words “on the true faith of a Christian.” The only bitter opponents of the measure were the Tories, for most of the Peelites, like Mr. Gladstone, supported it. The Commons passed the measure readily enough; but in the House of Lords the hostility of the Episcopal Bench was fatal to it. Another measure was sacrificed to the ecclesiasticism which was then prevalent in Parliament. That was the Bill to legalise marriage with a Deceased Wife’s Sister, which Mr. Stuart Wortley introduced on the 3rd of May, and the most vehement opponents of which were Mr. Goulburn, Mr. Gladstone, and Sir R. Inglis. Mr. Wortley carried the Second Reading without much difficulty; but when Mr. Goulburn threatened to use the forms of the House to obstruct the further progress of the measure, it was withdrawn.
Foreign affairs originated some acrimonious debates in both Houses during the Session. On the 6th of March a question was put by Lord Stanley to
Lord Lansdowne asking if it were true that a Government contractor had been allowed to withdraw arms from a Government store, and supply them to the insurgents in Sicily. Lord Lansdowne could not deny that the allegation was true; and the incident not only caused a great deal of excitement in the country, but it was one that gave much pain to the Queen, who naturally saw in it the reckless hand of Lord Palmerston. The secret history of the affair was this: Mr. Delane, the editor of the Times, happened to meet a Mr. Hood—an Army contractor—accidentally. In conversation Mr. Hood incidently mentioned to Mr. Delane that when certain Sicilian agents applied to him for stores, he explained that he had none on hand, having supplied all he possessed to the Government. But he observed that if he could persuade the Government to let him have these back, he would hand them over to the Sicilian insurrectionary agents, replacing the Government stores in due time. The contractor applied to the Ordnance Department, stating that his application had a political, as well as a commercial, object. The Department, therefore, referred the matter to Lord Palmerston, who sanctioned the transaction. The Times immediately published this story, and its attacks on Lord Palmerston for having insulted Austria, and connived at insurrection in Sicily, annoyed the Queen so seriously that Lord John Russell compelled Lord Palmerston to apologise to the King of Naples, for whom he cherished a supreme contempt. But when the scandal grew clamant, Mr. Bankes opened up an attack in the House of Commons on Lord Palmerston. He, however, mixed up with it a great deal of general criticism on the policy of the Government in Italy, and gave Lord Palmerston an opportunity of winning an easy victory by posing as a friend of freedom, and a martyr to the doctrine of nationalities. Lord Palmerston, writes Mr. Greville, delivered, in reply to his antagonist, “a slashing, impudent speech, full of sarcasm, jokes, and claptrap, the whole eminently successful. He quizzed Bankes unmercifully, he expressed ultra-Liberal sentiments to please the Radicals, and he gathered shouts, laughter, and applause as he dashed and rattled along.”
On the 22nd of March Lord Aberdeen headed another abortive attack on the Foreign Policy of the Government. He complained that whereas Lord Palmerston had been active in menacing Austria if she meddled with Sardinia, he had spoken smooth things to Sardinia—never going further than warning her that if she broke existing treaties, she would be doing a dangerous thing. Aberdeen’s attack was regarded as a semi-official expression of the ideas of the Sovereign on Lord Palmerston’s policy; and it came to this, that Palmerston had made England an object of aversion in every capital in Europe, by interfering between Governments and their subjects, in a manner which brought on him the animosity of both. He had been arrogant to the despots, and, whilst he had encouraged the rebels, he had tamely abandoned them, whenever it became irksome to defend them. In this debate the Foreign Office was convicted of having suppressed an important despatch relating to Austro-Sardinian affairs in the papers laid before Parliament. The truth is that the Cabinet did not know what was and what was not included in the papers that Lord Palmerston chose to publish; and Lord Palmerston sometimes did not even give his colleagues enough information to enable them to answer questions. One example of this is worth recording, because it directly affected the Queen. In May, Lord Lansdowne, in reply to a question of Lord Beaumont, told the House of Lords that “no communication whatever had been made by the Austrian Government to ours relative to their intervention in Italy.” But Collosedo, the Austrian Minister, had five days before that gone to Lord Palmerston and communicated to him, by order of the Austrian Government, their objects in interfering in Italy. Palmerston kept his colleagues in utter ignorance of this interview; and when the truth leaked out, Lord Lansdowne had to set himself right the best way he could. As for Palmerston, when he was challenged with deceiving his colleagues, and suppressing the fact that this Austrian communication had been made to him, he replied impudently that “he had quite forgotten it.” His needlessly violent anti-Austrian policy, coupled with delinquencies of this kind, was intensely annoying to the Queen. Writing under the date of June 3rd, Mr. Greville, in his Journal, says, “The Duke of Bedford told me a few days ago that the Queen had been again remonstrating about Palmerston more strongly than ever. This was in reference to the suppressed Austrian despatch which made such a noise. She then sent for Lord John Russell, and told him she could not stand it any longer, and he must make some arrangements to get rid of Lord Palmerston. This communication was just as fruitless as all her preceding ones. I don’t know what Lord John said—he certainly did not pacify her; but, as usual, there it ended. But the consequences of her not being able to get any satisfaction from her Minister have been that she has poured her feelings and her wrongs into the more sympathetic ears of her late Ministers, and I believe that the Queen has told Peel everything—all her own feelings and wishes, and all that passes on the subject.”
In these circumstances an anti-Palmerstonian cabal was naturally formed. Lord Aberdeen, a devoted friend of the Queen, attempted to organise a movement for driving Palmerston from office; but the great obstacle was Peel. Nothing could induce him to upset the Ministry which was pledged to procure a fair trial for Free Trade. The Court Party, however, suggested that, if censured, Palmerston might resign and his colleagues stay in; or that they might all resign, and then, when it was shown that no other Government could be formed, and that the Peelites could render the formation of another Ministry impossible, Lord John Russell and his colleagues might come back to power, without Lord Palmerston. The scheme failed; but, as Mr. Greville says, the curious thing to note about it is “the carte du pays it exhibits,” and the remarkable and most improper position which Palmerston occupied vis-à-vis the Queen and his own colleagues. “I know not,” writes Mr. Greville, “where to look for a parallel to such a mass of anomalies—the Queen turning from her own Prime Minister to confide in the one who was supplanted by him; a Minister talking over quietly and confidentially with an outsider by what circumstances and what agency his colleague, the Minister for Foreign Affairs, might be excluded from the Government; the Queen abhorring her Minister, and unable to rid herself of him; John Russell, fascinated and subjugated by the ascendency of Palmerston, submitting to everything from him, and supporting him right and wrong, the others not concealing from those they are in the habit of confiding in their disapprobation of the conduct and policy of their colleague, while they are all the time supporting the latter and excusing the former, and putting themselves under the obligation of identifying themselves with his proceedings, and standing or falling with them.”[2]
Ultimately, however, a confederacy was formed between Lords Aberdeen, Stanley, and Brougham to oust Lord Palmerston during the last days of the Session, and the Queen, like every other prudent politician in the country, who had been alarmed by Palmerston’s restlessness, rejoiced in the prospect of getting rid of him. Unfortunately, the only Peer of the three who was in earnest in this business was Lord Aberdeen; and yet, when the 20th of July, the day for the attack, drew nigh, it was certain that the Government would be defeated. Palmerston then played his trump card. Lady Palmerston wrote a letter to Brougham, who was to lead the attack, conveying to him some mysterious threat, and he promptly betrayed his associates. “He made a miserable speech,” writes Mr. Greville, “which enraged his colleagues and all the opponents of the Government, who swore
(and it was true) that he had sold them.” Brougham’s speech, however, contained one good point which deserved to live. It was in it that he condemned the interference, not only of our regular diplomatic body in the affairs of the Mediterranean Powers, but also the interference of “that mongrel sort of monster—half nautical, half political—diplomatic vice-admirals, speculative ship-captains, observers of rebellion, and sympathisers therewith.” The Government were in a minority in the House, but they contrived to get a majority of twelve by proxies, in obtaining which Lady Palmerston had displayed marvellous address. Thus was the great game of faction played at the expense of the people in the early years of the Queen’s reign. Not that the people cared much about the matter, for it was only those who were behind the scenes who could fairly appreciate what Lord Palmerston’s spirited policy really meant. It was Radical, but it was reckless; and not only the Queen, but every well-informed statesman—including Liberals like Mr. Cobden and Mr. Bright—simply lived in daily terror, lest the Foreign Secretary might suddenly involve the country in a wanton and purposeless European war.
Another important debate was raised by Lord Beaumont, on the 14th of May, on French intervention in Rome. The States of the Church had long been preparing for a revolt against Papal misgovernment. Pius IX. therefore determined to modify the policy of his predecessors, and a hapless scheme for satisfying the democracy, by appointing lay councillors to work with or check a priestly government was tried—the Pope refusing to bate one jot or tittle of his temporal authority. The lay councillors could only meet and debate. They could not initiate reforms. No sooner had this constitution been granted than the revolution swept over Italy, and the Romans demanded the same concessions as had been extorted by the Neapolitans. Concessions were given with the intention that they should be withdrawn. Rossi—once French ambassador at Rome—was made Prime Minister, and to extricate the country from financial embarrassment, he proposed to mortgage the property of the Church. He was, however, assassinated when entering the Capitol; and then the Cardinals began to retract the concessions which had been made to Liberalism. The people rose, insisting that the Pope should protect the Constitution, and assuring him of their fidelity. He then fled to Gaeta. Attempts to reconcile the Pontiff and his people failed. The Roman Republic was proclaimed, and peace established, when suddenly France interfered to restore his Holiness. It was to prevent France from having a pretext for interfering in Italy that Lord Minto’s mission was undertaken, and thus another failure had to be debited to Lord Palmerston’s foreign policy. Naturally Lords Aberdeen and Brougham taunted the Government with the failure of the Minto mission. But taunts were powerless to extort from Ministers a statement of their relation to the French expedition. In the House of Commons, however, those who objected to French interference with the Roman people succeeded in obtaining from Lord Palmerston an expression of disapproval of the course which France had taken; but that was all.
Far and away the most important foreign debate of the Session was that which Mr. Osborne raised on the Austro-Hungarian question in July. Hungary had been crushed by the aid which Russia, unrebuked or unrestrained by the shadow of a protest from Palmerston, had given her Austrian masters; and the Liberal Party, always jealous of Austria as the representative of Absolutist ideas, were wrathful accordingly. But the discussion had no practical result. It was merely marked by a declaration from Lord Palmerston, which came too late to be useful, to the effect that the heart and soul of the country were enlisted on the side of Hungary.
For Englishmen no debate was graver than the one on the state of the nation, which Mr. Disraeli raised at the end of the Session. He attributed the distress in the country to Free Trade, and he attacked every branch of Ministerial policy. But the weak point of his brilliant harangue was that it meant nothing, for not only was he unable to take over the Government himself, but he had no practical proposal to make, save his insinuated suggestion to restore Protection. Sir Robert Peel’s speech, however, carried the House in favour of the Government. It was a complete vindication of his fiscal policy, and its conclusion was memorable, because in it he traced our immunity from revolutionary excesses to his abandonment of taxes on food in 1846.
Early in the year the Queen was disturbed by evil tidings from India. Hard fighting was reported from the banks of the Chenab. The Sikhs, it was true, were in retreat; but our victory was a barren one, as we captured neither prisoners, guns, nor standards, and sacrificed two of our Generals (Cureton and Havelock), who fell at the head of their regiments. In losing Cureton, her Majesty lost the finest cavalry officer in her service. The fact was that, though we had conquered, we had not subdued the Sikhs at the end of our first war with them. In April, 1848, a Sikh chief murdered two British officers at Multan. This was followed by a general outbreak, which was met on the whole successfully by the desperate efforts of Lieutenant Edwardes and a mere handful of men. Multan was besieged in June, 1848; but 5,000 of our Sikh auxiliaries deserted to the enemy, and our army had to retreat. We had not enough troops in the Punjab to control the rising, and our auxiliaries under the Maharajah were not trustworthy. On the other hand, the rebel chief Shere Sing, at the beginning of 1849, had 40,000 men under his orders, and once again British supremacy in India was trembling in the balance. On the 5th of March, however, still worse news came to London. Lord Gough, with inconceivable recklessness, had, on the 14th of January, attacked the enemy in a strong position at Chillianwalla with a small British force worn out by fatigue. The conditions of the combat ensured disaster. Our troops, it is true, took the Sikh positions, but during
the night had to abandon them. The loss of life on our side was enormous, and Lord Gough, though he fought like a hero in the thickest of the mêlée, was not to be found at a critical moment to give orders. The news of this disaster was received with universal indignation. The Government attempted to allay public feeling by appointing Sir William Gomm to succeed Lord Gough; but as Sir William was believed to be equally incompetent, a demand for Sir Charles Napier’s appointment became clamant. “We dined,” writes Lord Malmesbury, in his Diary on the 4th of March, “with the Colchesters, and were introduced to Sir Charles Napier. He is a little
man, with grey hair brushed back from his face, with an immense hooked, pointed nose, small eyes, and wears spectacles, very like the conventional face of a Jew. He is appointed to retrieve our affairs in India, and when the Duke of Wellington named him to the post he at first hesitated, until the Duke told him if he did not go he would go himself.”[3] Why did Napier hesitate? Because, it seems, the Directors of the East India Company not only objected to his appointment, but threatened to prevent him from having a seat on the Council, an insult which Napier could hardly brook. “You have no idea of the difficulties I have had in dealing with these men,” said Sir John Cam Hobhouse, then President of the Indian Board of Control, to Mr. Greville. “I have brought the Government, the Duke of Wellington, and the Queen all to bear upon them, and all in vain.” Mr. Greville advised Hobhouse to bring another power—that of the House of Commons—to bear on the Company. In other words, he advised the Government to go down boldly and inform Parliament that they had appointed Napier, and if the Directors of the Company refused to pay his salary as a Member of Council, to ask the House to vote it. The Cabinet appointed Napier, and the Directors acquiesced, fearing to face the responsibility of thwarting the Government in doing what the Queen and the country desired.
But before Gough could be recalled, he redeemed the disaster of Chillianwalla at Gujerat. The news of this successful battle, which was fought on the 21st of February, reached the Queen on the 1st of April. It meant that the crisis in India was over, and it lifted from her mind the burden of a supreme anxiety. Multan, too, had fallen, and finally the East India Company, admitting at last that it was impossible to protect their frontier from attack, annexed the Punjab on the 29th of March, 1849, thus closing the history of the Sikhs as an independent nation. England had found in them the most fearless and formidable of enemies. Since the annexation of their country, they have been the staunchest and the most loyal of the Queen’s Indian subjects.
One serious colonial dispute must be noticed, for it led to an early experiment in “boycotting.” Lord Grey, on the 4th of September, 1848, by an Order in Council, had turned the Cape of Good Hope into a convict settlement. The colonists resented this act with the hottest indignation. Angry meetings were held at Cape Town; and the Governor, Sir Harry Smith, was violently blamed because he refused to take on himself the responsibility of suspending the “injurious and degrading measure.” When the first convict ship, the Neptune, arrived in Simon’s Bay on the 19th of September, the church bells in Cape Town were tolled in half-minute time. The Municipality demanded that the vessel be sent back. The populace, in mass meetings, adopted what they called “the Pledge”—an obligation to “drop connection with any person who may assist convicted felons.” In fact, the process which in Ireland has recently been termed “boycotting” was resorted to, and supplies were refused to the army, navy, and all Government establishments. The law was impotent in face of such opposition, and very soon the Governor, Sir Harry Smith, was compelled to bake his own bread even in his own house. The colonists finally triumphed. The Order in Council was withdrawn, so far as it referred to the Cape, and the Neptune left, without having landed a single convict. The episode is one of the earliest instances on record of the successful application of “boycotting” to defeat an unpopular policy.
Education of the Prince of Wales—Selection of Mr. Birch as Tutor—The Queen’s Jealousy of her Parental Authority—Her Letter to Melbourne on the Management of her Nursery—Her Ideas on Education—Prince Albert’s Plans for the Education of the Prince of Wales—Stockmar’s Advice—The Visit to Ireland—The Queen at Waterford—“Rebel Cork” en fête—The Visit to Dublin—Viceregal Festivities—The Visit to the National Model Schools—Shiel’s Speech—The Queen and the Duke of Leinster—Farewell at Kingstown—The Queen Dips the Royal Ensign—Loyal Ulster—The Visit to the Linen Hall—Lord Clarendon on the Queen’s Visit—A Cruise on the Clyde—Home in Balmoral—The Queen’s “Bothie”—The Queen’s University of Ireland—First Plans for the Great Exhibition—Opening of the London Coal Exchange—The Queen’s Barge—Death of Queen Adelaide.
In April, 1849, Prince Albert is found writing a letter to the Dowager Duchess of Gotha announcing a very important event in the Queen’s family. “The children,” he says, “grow more than well. Bertie (the Prince of Wales) will be given over in a few weeks into the hands of a tutor, whom we have found in a Mr. Birch, a young, good-looking, amiable man.” Mr. Birch, subsequently Rector of Prestwich, near Manchester, was eminently qualified for the grave and delicate duty for which the Queen selected him. He had taken high honours at Cambridge, and had been not only Captain of the School, but had also served as an under-master at Eton. Yet Mr. Birch can hardly be credited with the Scheme of Education adopted in the Royal Family. That had been arranged by the Queen herself, in consultation with her consort and Baron Stockmar. Her fixed idea was that the heart as well as the head must be trained, and that not only must the education of her children be truly moral, but it must be essentially English. She resolved to discover the kind of tutor whom she could trust, and then, having found him, to trust him implicitly.
The Queen, it may here be said, has ever set an example to women of exalted rank and station by reason of the undeviating support she has given to those who undertook the education of her children. But in doing this her Majesty has been most jealous in asserting her parental rights, and punctilious in recognising the high responsibilities which they involve. As far back as 1842, in a very pretty letter to Lord Melbourne, she asked him for advice about the reorganisation of her nursery, and a question came up as to the choice of the lady who should superintend it. The Queen, accepting the fact that her public duties prevented her from personally managing the education of her family as completely as she might have wished, fully admitted that it was necessary to appoint a lady of high rank and culture for that purpose. But then arose the difficulty of satisfying her Majesty’s desire to retain in her own hands the completest headship of her family. A governess of high rank really competent to do the work as the Queen meant that it should be done
might choose to consider herself as an official responsible to the country first, and to the parents of the Royal children afterwards. Against such an idea the Queen most resolutely set her face. “I feel,” her Majesty writes, on behalf of herself and her husband, that “she (the Royal governess) ought to be responsible only to us, and we to the country and nation.”[4] It was in pursuance of this idea that her Majesty made great sacrifices to keep her children as closely as possible in contact with her. Many curious memoranda from her pen exist, and through them all there runs the same thought—simplicity and domesticity must be the leading characteristics of the training of the Royal family. For example, whenever it was possible, the Queen insisted on retaining in her own hands the religious education of her family, and it is now known that she did this from a dread lest their minds might at the most plastic period of life receive a sectarian bias. High Anglicanism was then militant, and many intrigues were set on foot by its professors to effect a lodgment in the Palace. The education of the Princess Royal, afterwards Princess Imperial of Germany, was almost entirely supervised and directed by the Queen herself, and with results much appreciated in Germany, where, through her tact, culture, high character, and strong common sense, her Imperial Highness has won for herself a position of unique political and social influence. The education of the Prince of Wales, however, now came more directly under the hands of Prince Albert; and one point of the highest importance to decide was whether it should be conservative or
liberal in its character. Prince Albert decided that it must be liberal in this sense, that it should prepare the Heir Apparent for taking his position in a changeful state of society, whose institutions were, to a great extent, in a transition stage. Every effort was to be made to prevent him from getting into his mind a notion that existing institutions were sacrosanct, and that resistance to all change was a sacred and patriotic duty. The history of George III. had evidently not been studied in vain. “The proper duty of Sovereigns in this country,” wrote Stockmar to Prince Albert, “is not to take the lead in change, but to act as a balance-wheel on the movements of the social body.” Above all, it was determined that the education of the young Prince must be at bottom English, and not foreign. Furnished with these principles to guide him, and with general instructions to make the basis of the young Prince’s training as broad and comprehensive as possible—to make it scientific as well as classical—Mr. Birch essayed his arduous task, aided not a little by shrewd advice from Bishop Wilberforce and Sir James Clark, the Queen’s favourite physician.
The sweetest days of summer were clouded for the Queen in 1849 by painful memories of the shock she received on the 19th of May. On that day an Irishman named Hamilton, with a morbid craving for notoriety, tried to shoot her when she was driving with her children in her carriage down Constitution Hill. Her Majesty, with great tact, engaged the attention of her little ones by conversation, and with a sign directed her coachman to drive on as if nothing had happened, so that her husband, who was riding in advance, knew nothing of the affair—not even of the attempt of the mob to “lynch” Hamilton. His pistol was loaded with blank cartridge, but in spite of that he was sentenced to seven years’ transportation.
It has been said that Ireland, exhausted by the abortive rebellion of 1848, had been settling down into sullen tranquillity. There were many signs visible of a better feeling towards the Government in the country. The Queen accordingly suggested that it might be well to take advantage of the improving condition of things, and pay a Royal visit to Ireland. Her Majesty, however, primarily desired that the Irish people should benefit, and not be burdened, by the presence of Royalty. She therefore expressed a wish that the visit should not be made in such a form as to put the country, which had suffered so much from distress, to any great expense. Prince Albert, ever practical, suggested that in that case the best way of carrying out the Queen’s idea was to make this visit a simple yachting cruise. The Queen, he said, might call at the ports of Cork, Waterford, Wexford, Dublin, and Belfast on her annual journey to the North of Scotland, and perchance touch at Glasgow, thereby compensating it for the loss of the Royal visit in 1847. Lord Clarendon fully endorsed the views of the Queen and her husband in a letter to Lord John Russell. “Everything,” he wrote, “tends to secure for the Queen an enthusiastic reception, and the one drawback, which is the general distress of all classes, has its advantage, for it will enable the Queen to do what is kind and considerate to those who are suffering.”
On the 27th of June the official intimation that the Queen was to visit Ireland was received by the Irish people with every manifestation of delight. If there were some who, rebels at heart, sympathised little with the tone of popular feeling, they concealed their aversion. The sex of the Sovereign indeed ensured her a courteous reception, from a nation proud of its gallantry, and justly renowned for the warmth of its hospitality. It was then finally decided that the visit should be made when Parliament rose. On the 27th of August the Queen, Prince Albert, and their four eldest children accordingly embarked for Ireland. “It is done!” writes the amiable and somewhat effusive Lady Lyttelton, who watched the squadron from the windows of Osborne, till it faded from her eyes. “England’s fate is afloat ... and we are left lamenting.” There was, however, no serious cause for anxiety. When the Royal squadron steamed into the Cove of Cork, in the golden light of a summer sunset, the air was soon gleaming with rockets, and bonfires, kindled by the excitable and kindly peasantry, blazed on every height in welcome of their Queen. The next morning, the 3rd of August, brought a happy omen. The day was dull and grey, but no sooner did the Queen set her foot on land at the Cove—since called Queenstown in honour of the event—than a sudden sunburst lit up the scene with dazzling radiance. The Royal party in the Fairy steamed up “the pleasant waters of the river Lee,” and all along the route crowds of loyal people lined the banks, cheering the Queen and her family as she passed along. In Cork itself—“rebel Cork”—there was no sign of disaffection. Nothing could be warmer or more cordial than the welcome accorded to her Majesty, who was touched by the hearty gaiety and good humour of her excitable hosts. A true kindly Celtic welcome, such as any Sovereign might have envied, made her experiences of Cork sunny memories for many long years afterwards. The extreme beauty of the women seems, however, to have produced an equally deep impression on her Majesty, who refers to this point in her diary of the visit.
On the 4th of August the Royal party proceeded to Waterford, which they reached in the afternoon. Curiously enough, one of the ships in their squadron of escort had actually been stationed there two years previously, to overawe the rebellious people. Now all these dark and bitter memories seemed to have passed away. Waterford vied with Cork in its loyal demonstration, and the feeling of regret was universal that the Royal party did not land and go through the town. Prince Albert and his two sons, however, steamed up to the city from the anchorage opposite Duncannon fort, ten miles from the town. Next came the visit to Dublin—never to be forgotten in the annals of the Irish capital.
It was on the 5th of August, as the sun was going down, that the Royal squadron reached Kingstown—threading its way with some difficulty through the craft, gay with joyful bunting, that crowded the sea. The Queen was greatly struck by the picturesque appearance of the place, and when she and the Prince landed next morning, amidst a salute from the men-of-war in the harbour, her reception was a revelation even to those who had anticipated that she would be lovingly greeted. Never was there such cheering—especially from the ladies, whose hearts were captivated by the Royal children. If, said one old lady, the Queen would only consent to call one of the young princes Patrick, all Ireland would die for her. The Royal party soon arrived at the Viceregal Lodge, in the Phœnix Park, and the routefrom Sandymount Station was again lined by crowds of enthusiastic and loyal sightseers. It was noted that even the poorest houses were gay with flowers. “It was a most wonderful and striking spectacle,” says the Queen, in her notes of her visit—“such masses of human beings, so enthusiastic, so excited, and yet perfect order maintained.” All that was worth seeing in Dublin was seen, and the people were charmed with the simple, gracious bearing of her Majesty, and the ease and freedom with which she went among them. A memorable visit was made by the Queen to the National Model Schools, where she and the Prince were introduced by Archbishop Whateley to the venerable Archbishop Murray, a picturesque and patriarchal Catholic prelate, whose saintly life and generous liberal ideas had previously attracted the attention of Prince Albert. His Grace had indeed risked much by protecting these schools against the attacks of some of the bigots of his church, and the Queen was powerfully impressed with the excellence of the system of instruction given at them. Speaking of this interesting episode in the House of Commons, Richard Lalor Shiel—the last of the great Irish rhetoricians—said, “Amongst the most remarkable incidents that occurred when the Queen was in Ireland was her visit to the schools of the National Board of Education, which took place (by accident, of course) before she visited the College of the Holy and Undivided Trinity. It was a fine spectacle to see the consort, so worthy of her, attended by the representatives of the Presbyterian Church, by the Protestant Archbishop of Dublin, and by the Catholic Archbishop of Dublin—with those venerable ecclesiastics at her side, differing in creed, but united by the common brotherhood of Christianity in the performance of one of the noblest duties which their common Christianity prescribed; it was a fine thing to see the Sovereign of a great empire surrounded by groups of those little children who gazed on her with affectionate amazement, while she returned their looks with fondness almost maternal; and, better than all, it was noble and thrilling, indeed, to see the emotions by which that great lady was moved when her heart beat with a high and holy aspiration that she might live to see the benefits of education carried out in their full and perfect development.” There was a levée, of course, at which four thousand persons attended to pay their respects to their Sovereign. There was a brilliant review of the troops in the Phœnix Park, followed by visits to the Royal Irish Academy, the College of Surgeons, and the Royal Dublin Society, at whose cattle-shows Prince Albert was a frequent competitor. His speech, in reply to an Address from the Society, attracted much attention at the time, on account of his sound advice on the economic condition of Ireland, and the grateful thanks which he gave to the Irish people for their marks of warm attachment to the Queen and her family. The Prince was one of the first rural economists to impress on the chiefs of the Society the necessity for anticipating impending changes in agriculture. He advised them to stimulate to the utmost stock-breeding in Ireland.