Kingdom of 1772, an object of which England, as a party to the Treaties of 1815, could hardly approve. The insurgents had no military organisation or competent leaders, and they were carrying on guerilla warfare with the tenacity of despair.[159] As for the peasants, they had no reason to love their old tyrants, the nobles. For them the Government of the Czar was a lesser evil than the régime of 1772, and so they held aloof.[160] Still, some steps had to be taken to satisfy public opinion and ward off attacks in Parliament. Ministers accordingly decided to remonstrate gently with Russia—the excuse being that the Treaties of 1815 gave England a moral right of interference between Russia and Poland. The policy of France, on the other hand, was interference, not on the basis of the Treaties of 1815, which, the Emperor declared in his Speech to the Chambers, were dead, but in the interests of humanity outraged at the excesses which Poles and Russians were alike committing. Austria, on the other hand, considered that she could only approach Russia as a neighbouring Power, like Prussia, possessing Polish subjects, whose institutions might with advantage be imitated in Russian Poland. The attitude of Prussia was that of declared friendliness to Russia.

Thus the Powers were grouped as before the Crimean War: England, France, and Austria in accord, but each with a different end to serve, and a different idea underlying their respective policies: Russia and Prussia, on the other hand, solidly in alliance. Ultimately, Lord Russell suggested on the 17th of June that Russia might submit the whole Polish Question to a Conference of the Eight Powers who had signed the Treaty of Vienna, on the basis of an understanding that there should be an amnesty, and an armistice, and that moderate constitutional reforms should be carried out in Poland. The weak point in the proposal was that Lord Palmerston and Lord Russell ignored the warning of their own secret agent to the effect that the Poles had no organised leadership. Russia was therefore able to ask ironically with whom did Lord Russell propose to negotiate an armistice? and how he did propose to guarantee obedience to it by migratory bands under guerilla chiefs? It was therefore the contention of Russia that surrender must precede any negotiations for peace, and that were it not for the hope of aid from France and England, the Poles would have long since ceased to resist. Russia, in a word, refused to accept the basis of negotiations. She offered, however, to discuss the affairs of Poland with Austria and Prussia—the other partitioning Powers—probably anticipating the refusal of Austria to separate herself from England and France. Finally, she declined to accept any foreign interference whatever in her domestic affairs. Lord Palmerston and Lord Russell meekly submitted to this rebuff, and concurred with France and Austria in remonstrating with Russia, on the grave responsibility she incurred in haughtily rejecting their good offices.

The speech of the Emperor Napoleon at the opening of the French Chambers has already been referred to. The sentences alluding to the Treaties of 1815, and to the summoning of a European Congress, not only to settle the Polish Question, but other questions affecting nationalities struggling to be free, soon received a practical comment, for in Paris the Funds fell with startling rapidity. A few days after the speech was delivered the Emperor addressed a circular to the Powers which fully justified the warnings that the Queen had given to her Ministers, from the day the Polish Question was raised. Napoleon, in fact, invited the Sovereigns of Europe to meet in Congress and settle the affairs of the Continent, and the tone of the circular, combined with the veiled threat of war in his speech, really transformed the invitation into a summons. Italy and Prussia accepted the proposal, the former because she saw in it an opportunity for wresting Venice from Austria. As for Lord Russell, he met the project with a refusal couched in terms that stung the French Emperor to the quick. Writing on the 29th of November, Lord Malmesbury, in his “Diary,” says, “Mr. Seymour Fitzgerald arrived from Paris, where he says the refusal of our Government to attend the Congress proposed by Napoleon, and especially the rude tone of Lord Russell’s despatch, has created great irritation. The correspondence between the English and French Governments respecting the Congress is published in to-day’s papers. Lord Russell’s despatch is published in the Gazette, and I am not surprised that the French are angry; for not only is it very rude, but it was sent without the least delay, and published in the Times before it was delivered to Drouyn de Lhuys.”[161] The despatches, however, merely reveal the customary combination of dogmatic argument with a supercilious affectation of infallibility, which gives a distinctive mark to all Lord Russell’s diplomatic correspondence. Napoleon, too, had laid himself open to a rebuff by not sounding England on his proposal, before he sprang it on the world. Count Vitzthum says that the despatch was approved at a meeting of the Cabinet on the 19th of November, after which it was submitted next day to the Queen at Windsor, who, according to Lord Russell’s statement to the Count, “had given her assent with pleasure to the refusal to take part in the Congress.”[162] Still Napoleon was not without his consolations. In Mexico Forey’s victories enabled the French to bring together a Mexican Assembly of their partisans, who recommended the establishment of a mimic Bonapartist Empire under the Archduke Maximilian. This unfortunate Prince consented to take the Crown, provided the Mexicans sanctioned his dynasty by a plébiscite.

Much more serious for the Queen was the rapid development of the Sleswig-Holstein Question, as to which her opinions were known in Society to be in undisguised conflict with those of her Ministers. The death of Frederick VII. and the succession of the father of the Princess of Wales to the Danish Crown rendered this question urgent.

CHAPTER VII.

LORD PALMERSTON’S LAST CONTEST WITH THE QUEEN.

Lord Palmerston is said to have declared that only one man in Europe knew all the history and details of the Sleswig-Holstein Question, and that his opinion about it seemed to be contrary to common sense. Since 1846 the problem had engaged the subtlest of European diplomatists and Jurisconsults in chronic controversy. The Kings of Denmark were also Sovereign Dukes of Sleswig-Holstein, and when they were absolute monarchs, the Germans in the Duchies were on the same footing as the Danes. They were equally in bondage. On the death of Frederick VI., in 1839, his great-nephew, Christian VIII., succeeded him as King of Denmark, and all the subsequent trouble rose from the fact that his only son, the Prince Frederick, was not likely to have an heir. The question of the succession was further complicated because the Salic Law which existed in the German Empire obtained in the Duchies of Sleswig and in Holstein—the latter, indeed, being actually one of the States of the Germanic Confederation. The Landgravine Louise of Hesse would, on the death of Prince Frederick, be the nearest heir to the Danish throne. But as the Salic Law excluded a woman from the Sovereignty of the Duchies, her succession must destroy the integrity of Denmark. It was of the utmost importance to Russia to preserve this integrity, because, in the first place, the Romanoffs had themselves claims to part of the Duchies, which, on the extinction of the Royal House of Denmark, might be extended over the whole country; and, in the second place, if the Duchies broke away from Denmark they would naturally be absorbed by Germany, which would thus gain not only a valuable seaboard, but the formidable naval station of Kiel, from which she might dispute Russian supremacy in the Baltic. Two leading ideas, therefore, are from this point seen to dominate diplomacy in treating the question of the Duchies. The first is the Teutonic idea, which was, by every legitimate means, to prevent the Duchies from being absorbed by Denmark, and to draw closer and closer their connection with Germany. The

second is the Slavonic idea, which was to maintain, at all costs, the integrity of Denmark, and as far as possible encourage the policy that promoted a closer union between her and the Duchies. In this conflict of diplomatic forces the policy of England was vacillating and inconsistent, and for an excellent reason. Palmerston committed the fatal blunder of identifying British interests with the veiled designs of Russia, and he became a violent partisan of Denmark, whose policy was solely directed to what was called the “Danification” of the Duchies. On the other hand, the Queen had what Palmerston lacked—patience to master the complicated facts of the Danish question, and she became convinced that law and justice were on the side of the German Party in Sleswig-Holstein. The Prince Consort, again, was perhaps the only eminent man of his time who detected the hand of Russia in the game of intrigue at Copenhagen, from which sprang the policy of absorbing the Duchies against their will. He had the sense to see that British interests could hardly depend on maintaining the integrity of a small State like Denmark against the will of its people, and against the public law of Europe, and with no other practical result than that of preventing Germany from establishing herself as a rival power to Russia in the Baltic. Prince Albert’s death merely strengthened the Queen in her loyalty to his ideas—which in this instance were in harmony with her own conclusions. Hence, in 1863 and 1864, when the Danish Question became acute, the Queen and Lord Palmerston were in irreconcilable conflict, which explains why English policy seemed to the world at the time, a tissue of unintelligible inconsistencies. Happily for the English people, this conflict ended in the humiliating defeat of Palmerston—who, however, fought for his hand to the bitter end, with a courage and an obstinacy worthy of a better cause. No Tudor Sovereign ever strove more unweariedly and with more complete success than did the Queen at this time, to thwart the policy of her Minister, in the interests of peace, progress, and civilisation.

The first sign of trouble in the Duchies was given in 1846, when Christian VIII., as the Queen and Prince Consort knew, acting at the instigation of Russia, issued letters-patent extending the Danish law of female succession to all his dominions. These letters were a flagrant outrage on the public law of Europe, which excluded female sovereignty from his German provinces. Still Germany could only interfere on behalf of Holstein, which, as one of the States of the Germanic Confederation, was—as we have seen—under Salic Law. On the other hand, the German Party in the Duchies agitated against the letters-patent as an infringement of their autonomy; they demanded the union of the two Duchies, and their full and final absorption by the German Bund or Diet. The Diet, however, merely promised to defend their rights in Holstein, and vindicate the claims of all legal agnates in the succession to the Sovereignty of the Duchies. The death of Christian VIII. on the 20th of January, 1848, gave the German Party an opportunity for revolt. A Provisional Government was formed for the Duchies, and Prussia helped the Germans in Sleswig-Holstein to expel their Danish masters. The dispute dragged on till the 2nd of July, 1850, when a Treaty between Denmark and Prussia was signed at Berlin, vesting the Danish succession in Prince Christian of Sleswig-Holstein-Sonderburg-Glücksburg, and on his issue in the male line by his marriage with Louise, Princess of Hesse, heiress of the Crown of Denmark, who ceded to him all her rights. But the rights of the German Federation as regards Holstein and Lauenburg were not prejudiced by this Treaty. As for the heir to the Sovereignty of the Duchies under Salic Law—the Duke of Augustenburg—he sold his claims for 3,500,000 dollars. But obviously such a Treaty had no validity till it was sanctioned by the German Diet, inasmuch as it changed the legal succession in Holstein. An acknowledgment of the principle of maintaining at all hazards the integrity of Denmark, to be of use, must therefore have European sanction. To pave the way for a Treaty embodying this sanction Russian diplomacy at once set to work, and, unfortunately, Palmerston’s indiscretion at this juncture put him at the mercy of Baron Brunnow, the Russian Minister in London. It will be remembered that Palmerston’s policy of coercing Greece to recover Don Pacifico’s bad debts, had caused France to withdraw her Minister from London. But Russia took up the quarrel quite as fiercely as France, and Baron Brunnow not only absented himself from the official dinner at the Foreign Office on the Queen’s birthday, but finding that, through Lady Palmerston’s agency, means were taken to persuade the Queen that he meant to insult her personally, Brunnow called on Prince Albert privately and told him why he could not be present. It need hardly be said that this explanation did not soften her Majesty’s feeling towards Palmerston. Then came the censure which the House of Lords passed on him on the 17th of June. It was morally certain that if Russia followed France in withdrawing her Minister, the House of Commons would have confirmed the censure of the Lords, whereupon—condemned alike by the Crown and by both Houses of Parliament, by the Tories, the Radicals, and the Peace Party—Palmerston’s career must have ended. And every moment Brunnow’s demand for his passports was expected. At this crisis Palmerston, says Count Vitzthum, “turned to the Russian Minister with the inquiry whether there were no means of reconciling the Cabinet of St. Petersburg. After some consideration, Brunnow proposed a bargain: ‘Give us Denmark,’ he said, ‘and then we will give you Greece and forget the past.’ Of course it was not a question of ceding the Danish Kingdom, but of converting it into a Russian dependency, and giving the Emperor Nicholas a prospect of obtaining the harbour of Kiel.”[163] But how was this to be done? The first step was to get the integrity of Denmark affirmed as a European interest. Playing on Palmerston’s ignorance, Brunnow invented Russian claims to the Duchies based on those rights to the Gottorp portion, which the Emperor Paul had surrendered. These claims, Brunnow said, would be revived by the Czar Nicholas when the Danish line of kings became extinct with the death of Frederick VII. At such a suggestion Palmerston entered quite eagerly into the project of settling the succession to the Danish Crown on the basis (1), of recognising the integrity of Denmark as a European interest; (2), of passing over all male heirs to the sovereignty of the whole Danish Kingdom, in favour of Prince Christian of Glücksburg, the husband of the female heir. The points in the game which Russian diplomacy scored were three. The bargain kept Kiel out of German hands, which were alone strong enough to hold it against Russia. By getting the integrity of Denmark recognised, Russia rendered it easy for her to demand the whole kingdom whenever the time came to revive the Czar’s so-called claims to the Duchies as heir to the House of Gottorp. By getting the sovereignty of Denmark vested in Christian of Glücksburg, Russia contrived to seat on the Danish throne a Prince whose line of succession was not unlikely to fail.

When the bargain was struck France and Sweden recognised it. The Czar, as usual, “answered” for Prussia and Austria, and it was embodied in the Protocol of the 4th of July, 1850. The Queen, however, objected most strenuously to the whole arrangement. She warned her Ministers that it arbitrarily set aside the legal rights of nineteen agnates nearer in succession to the childless Frederick VII. than Christian of Sleswig-Holstein-Glücksburg. The Prince Consort declared in one of his letters to Stockmar that it violated law, equity, and honour, and predicted that trouble would spring from it. “But,” writes Count Vitzthum, “though he alone saw through the Russian game, he shrank from bringing the direct pressure of his influence to bear on the English Ministry in a matter which might expose him to the charge of sympathising too strongly with his Fatherland.” Yet he seems to have taken very strong means privately to neutralise the policy of Palmerston and Brunnow. He advised the Prince of Noër, one of the nineteen agnates who were set aside, to protest formally against the settlement of the Danish succession, so that the idea of challenging it was at all events kept alive in

Germany. The Prince of Noër warned the Powers that he would only acquiesce in the new order of succession on condition of its being stipulated by an International Treaty, similar in principle to that of Utrecht, that the Czar of Russia should in no case be permitted to wear the Danish Crown. After the intrigue between Palmerston and the Russian Minister, it was of course impossible to put this condition, which would alone have protected British interests, into the Protocol, which was subsequently expanded into the Treaty of 1852 and signed by Lord Malmesbury. This Treaty was known as the Treaty of London (8th of May, 1852), and so completely did Palmerston in 1863-64 feel that his policy and prestige were bound up with it, that he dragged the country to the verge of war to uphold its provisions. When the Treaty of London was signed, an inexplicable blunder was made by the Tory Government. The document was legally worthless unless ratified by the German Diet. But Lord Malmesbury permitted himself to believe that Austria and Prussia signed it as mandatories of the Diet, whereas, as a matter of fact, they took care merely to sign it in their individual capacities, as independent States. Other German States afterwards gave their sanction to it, but most of them with the reservation that the ratification of the Diet—that is, of Germany in her corporate capacity—should be obtained. Thus Palmerston’s settlement of the Danish succession was a Treaty which settled nothing, because he and Lord Malmesbury had been reckless enough to take it for granted that Austria and Prussia, in signing it, acted on a mandate from Germany, which they had neither sought nor obtained.

The arrangement of 1852 not only changed the Danish succession, but before it was made Denmark pledged herself to fulfil all her obligations to the Diet in regard to Holstein, to respect the old autonomy and privileges of both Duchies, to maintain their union, and never to incorporate them into Denmark proper. Frederick VII., under the influence of the Democratic party and a meddlesome mistress, repeatedly violated these engagements. He was perpetually attempting to undermine the independence of the Duchies, and the Diet was perpetually protesting against his policy.[164] At last, in March, 1863, he issued decrees dissolving the union of Sleswig and Holstein, and practically incorporating them in Denmark. Frederick VII. died on the 15th of November, 1863, and the father of the Princess of Wales succeeded him as Christian IX. His first act, done under Democratic menaces at Copenhagen, was to decree that legislative power in respect to the common affairs of Sleswig and Denmark, was to be vested in the King and the Danish Rigsraad, and that no law passed by the Rigsraad was to be dependent upon the passing of a similar law by the legislatures of either Sleswig or Holstein. This completed the subjection of the Germans in the Duchies to the Danes, and the very day after Christian IX. ascended the throne they accordingly retaliated by disputing his right to rule over them. The young Duke of Augustenburg thereupon claimed the sovereignty of the Duchies. True, his father had surrendered his rights. But, it was argued, a hereditary sovereign cannot surrender hereditary rights without the consent of his heir-apparent—just as the owner of an entailed estate cannot sell it, without the consent of his heirs in tail. On the 21st of November the Holstein Legislature refused to swear allegiance to Christian IX., after which Saxony, Bavaria, Hesse, and other German States resolved to support the claim of the Duke of Augustenburg to Holstein, and the Prussian Chambers passed a resolution in favour of vindicating the rights of the Duchies and of the Augustenburg family. On the 27th of December the Duke of Augustenburg was proclaimed Sovereign of Sleswig-Holstein, and on the 30th he made his entry into Kiel. On the 31st the Danish Cabinet resigned, and a new Ministry was formed by Bishop Monrad. The question of the Succession, so far as the German Diet was concerned, was simple enough. For the Diet the Treaty of London had no existence. Therefore the Landgravine Louise of Hesse was Queen of Denmark. As the Salic Law excluded her from the sovereignty of the Duchies, it was for the Diet purely an open question who had the best right to them.[165]

The domestic policy of the Government was not of much interest in 1863. Very early in the Session Mr. Gladstone introduced his Budget. The American War had sent the price of cotton up from 7d. to 2s. 1d. a pound, and trade was prostrate and stagnant in Lancashire. The agricultural wealth of Ireland from 1856 to 1860 had been, on the average, about £39,437,000[166] a year. But in 1863 it had fallen to £27,327,000—a decrease of £12,000,000, a sum not far short of the established annual valuation of the country, which was but £13,000,000. Ireland and Lancashire ought therefore to have made havoc with Mr. Gladstone’s estimates for the past year. So far from that being the case, the revenue, under the expansive influence of Free Trade, had risen to £67,790,000, or £805,000 over the estimates.[167] The expenditure had been £69,302,000, or £806,000 less than the estimates. For the coming year Mr. Gladstone accordingly estimated a revenue of £71,490,000 on the existing basis. Hence he had in view a surplus of £3,741,000, so that he saw his way to lessen the pressure of taxation on the people. He therefore reduced the Income Tax from 9d. to 7d. in the pound, readjusting its incidence so as to give more relief to small incomes. He reduced the tea duty to 1s. in the pound, and equalised the duties on chicory and coffee, but his attempts to levy Income Tax on public charities and trust corporations were defeated[168] after a somewhat acrid controversy. Mr. Gladstone’s argument was that their corrupt management really deprived most of the rich incorporated charities of a right to an appeal ad misericordium. He, however, pressed his point too far. His lurid picture of their administrative abuses tempted people to doubt whether the penal imposition of a sevenpenny Income Tax was the best means of dealing with such gigantic evils.

The lamented death of Sir George Cornewall Lewis in April not only brought confusion into the Cabinet, but it deprived the Queen of a valued

friend, whose services she could ill afford to lose. “To me, dear Lady Theresa,” the Queen says in a letter to Sir George’s widow (15th April), “this is a heavy loss, a severe blow! My own darling had the very highest esteem, regard, and respect for dear Sir Cornewall Lewis; we delighted in his society; we admired his great honesty and fearless straightforwardness. We had the greatest confidence in him, and since my terrible misfortune, I clung particularly to characters like his, which are so rare. I felt he was a friend, and I looked to him as a support, and a wise and safe counsellor. He is snatched away, and his loss to me and to the country is irreparable. How little did I think, when I talked to him the last time here, and he spoke so kindly of my popularity, as he so kindly expressed it, that I should never see his kind face again.”[169] He was leader of “the Court Party” in the Cabinet, and was succeeded at the War Office by Earl de Grey.

Only one question provoked anything resembling a party division during the Session, and that was the Prison Ministers Bill. The object of the measure was to allow prisoners to be attended by clergy of their own denominations and persuasions. As the Roman Catholics would derive most benefit from the Bill, it was opposed warmly by a powerful body of the Tory Party. The Liberals naturally supported the measure, and on this occasion they were joined by a few of the more enlightened Conservatives, such as Lord Derby, Mr. Disraeli, Mr. Henley, and Sir John Pakington. As Mr. Disraeli was at the time favouring an intrigue for detaching the Roman Catholic Party from the Liberals, it was with ill-concealed chagrin that he listened to the bigoted attacks of his followers on the Bill, which was, however, passed. The suspension of amicable relations with Brazil,[170] the vote for the purchase of the Exhibition Buildings, the reorganisation of the London police, and the attitude of the Government to the belligerents in the American Civil War, were the only other topics that created serious or practical Parliamentary discussion.

The vote for the purchase of the Exhibition Building of 1862 was extremely unpopular, and but for the Queen’s influence it would probably have been rejected by the House of Commons. The country even then viewed with strong suspicion the tendency to centralise all National collections in the distant Court suburb of Kensington. It was also insinuated that the Royal Family had pecuniary interests in building land, the value of which would be enhanced by creating a Science and Art Department in this quarter. That insinuation is contradicted by Sir Theodore Martin, who asserts that Prince Albert never was able to save any money out of his private income to purchase such lands for his heirs.[171] This perhaps accounts for what has long been a popular mystery—the fact that his will was never submitted to Probate. As a matter of course, if he had no money to leave to his heirs, the Prince must have left no will that was worth proving. But in 1863 these insinuations had sunk deep in the public mind, and the manner in which Lord Palmerston managed the question gave colour to them. He knew that the proposal to buy the Exhibition Building of 1862 was hateful to the taxpayers. The edifice was architecturally unfit for the reception of a permanent national collection of paintings, and its distance from London rendered all schemes for transferring to it the pictures from the National Gallery in Trafalgar Square objectionable in the extreme. Palmerston, however, at the outset disarmed his critics by proposing merely to buy from the Exhibition Commissioners, for £67,000, the site of the Exhibition, and it was tolerably cheap for a metropolitan site, in days when land in the City fetched £119,000 an acre. This site, he said, was wanted for a building to house the new Patent Office, some natural history collections from the British Museum, and for a National Portrait Gallery. Then he asked the House of Commons to vote £120,000 for the purchase of another “lot” of seventeen acres belonging to the Commissioners adjacent to the Exhibition site, and, finally, he desired it to vote £80,000 for the building itself. Very artfully he had the votes put separately, and Mr. Gladstone aided him by positively assuring the House that the project of buying the building—which was universally unpopular—was one quite apart from the other projects. By a vote of 267 to 135 the House agreed, but grudgingly, to the purchase of the ground, intending to fight the taxpayers’ battle on the question of buying the building. When, however, they came to the vote for the building, Mr. Gladstone informed them they had no option but to purchase it, for the contractors were under no obligation to remove it—a fact which Lord Palmerston had carefully concealed from the House. Members were thus in possession of a site burdened with a useless building which it was nobody’s business to remove. If the Government pulled it down, and then put up another structure in its place, the operation would cost much more than the £105,000 which were needed to buy and adapt it to public uses. The House was furious at finding itself trapped by Lord Palmerston and Mr. Gladstone. Bitter complaints of Courtly jobbery were heard on all sides, and a Ministerial defeat was the result. Lord Malmesbury, writing on the 5th of July in his “Diary,” says:—“Several people called, who told me that the scene in the House of Commons when the division took place on the vote for the purchase of the Exhibition Building was extraordinary. Sir Stafford Northcote’s speech[172] was the signal for a storm, and he was forced to sit down. Disraeli had canvassed his supporters, telling them that he had a letter in his pocket from the Queen. This had a disastrous effect, and when he got up the hooting was so terrific that he could not be heard. Gladstone’s speech had already excited great indignation, for it showed how completely the Government had deceived the House when Lord Palmerston had induced them to vote for the purchase of the land, leaving them under the delusion that the contractors for the Exhibition were bound to remove the building if it was not sold within a certain time. Gladstone had told them that there was no engagement of the sort, and that he believed they were not obliged to remove it at all. This, whether true or not, was taken as a menace to force them to buy the building, and infuriated the House of Commons the more, as Lord Elcho proved that the purchase would be a most disadvantageous one, entailing an enormous expense. So the House rose en masse, and, after a scene of the utmost confusion and excitement, defeated the Government by more than two to one, Gladstone and Disraeli looking equally angry.”[173] It need hardly be said that Mr. Disraeli’s indiscreet use of the Queen’s name in this questionable transaction was unwarranted and unwarrantable.

The inefficiency displayed by the City Police at the entry of the Princess Alexandra into London tempted Sir George Grey to propose that the Metropolitan and City Forces should be amalgamated under the control of the Home Office. This was hotly opposed. The Lord Mayor and Mr. Alderman Sidney protested against a scheme for giving the Home Secretary control of what might become a large standing army in the City of London.[174] Other members raised the cry of “centralisation,” and denounced the measure as an attack on the principle of local self-government. It was now the turn of London to be assailed, but Manchester and Birmingham and all other powerful cities would soon share the fate of the Metropolis. All over England municipal bodies naturally made common cause with the City of London, and it was soon apparent that the Government must either bend or break. Luckily it was discovered that the Bill was not a public but a private Bill, and, as such, subject in respect of notices to certain Standing Orders which had not been obeyed. This omission gave Sir George Grey a technical excuse for withdrawing it.

Vigorous efforts were made during 1863 to induce the Government to recognise the Southern Confederacy, but they were made in vain. Mr. Roebuck, in the House of Commons, proposed a motion in favour of recognition, alleging that in an interview with Napoleon III. he had discovered that France would co-operate with England for that purpose—nay, he warned Lord Palmerston that France might recognise the South without waiting for our co-operation. The Tory Party, though strongly sympathising with Mr. Roebuck’s views, were restrained by their leaders from harassing the Cabinet, and it was the general feeling that Ministers should be left quite free to act. As for the Government, through Lord Palmerston and Lord Russell, it repeatedly declared that it was bent on adhering to a policy of scrupulous neutrality. But this was a matter of some difficulty. Many Englishmen had engaged in the lucrative trade of blockade-running. When their vessels failed to pass the Federal cordon round the Southern ports, and were seized, their owners, as Lord Russell said, “put on an air of injured innocence, and came to the Foreign Office demanding redress.” In Parliament, too, their friends attacked Ministers for meekly submitting to violations of International Law by officers of the Federal Navy, and the investigation of these cases, especially when the seizures were of doubtful legality, raised many irritating controversies between the two Governments. Swift-armed cruisers were built in English ports for the Confederate States, and then taken out to sea, and fitted with their guns and armaments. The difficulty of preventing their escape—at all times serious—was aggravated by the uncertain state of English law on the subject. One of these cruisers, the Alabama, had been allowed to sail from the Mersey, and had committed fearful depredations on Federal commerce. The American Government alleged that her escape was due to Lord Russell’s culpable negligence. The truth was that the Government meant to arrest the Alabama, but owing to the temporary mental derangement of the Judge Advocate-General there was delay in going through certain legal formalities, and before this was overcome the ship had put out to sea. On the other hand, when another vessel of the same class—the Alexandra—was seized, her seizure was pronounced illegal by the English Law Courts. Lord Russell’s action was either too slow or too quick, and in each case it served to irritate both North and South. But the country gave the Government a generous support, recognising their sincerity in endeavouring to maintain a neutral policy, in spite of the pressure which was put upon them by Southern partisans.

In America the war dragged slowly on. On the 1st of January Mr. Lincoln’s Proclamation abolishing slavery in the rebel States took effect, but without producing a servile insurrection, as was anticipated. After

the drawn battle of Murfreesborough, with which the year 1862 closed, and the Federal defeat at Fredericksburg, the efforts of the North were chiefly directed against Charleston. In April Admiral Dupont was repulsed in an attack on the harbour, and in summer Admiral Dahlgren resumed siege operations, but without success. In May General Hooker led the Army of the Potomac across the Rappahannock, and took up positions above and below that held by the Confederates at Fredericksburg. Lee, by a rapid movement westward, crushed Hooker’s force at Chancellorsville, and then suddenly doubling back easily defeated Sedgwick’s division which had occupied Fredericksburg. The Army of the Potomac retraced its steps across the Rappahannock, and Richmond was no longer menaced. On the 4th of July Grant captured Vicksburg after a series of brilliant operations, and then Port Hudson surrendered to Banks. This was a great gain for the Federals, for not only did they clear the Mississippi of rebels, but the powerful garrisons, with their material of war, which President Davis had, by an inconceivable blunder, shut up in the river forts, fell into their hands. At the beginning of summer Lee outflanked Hooker, defeated Milroy on the Shenandoah, and then, by a daring movement, crossed the Potomac, and, to the terror of the Government at Washington, carried the war into Maryland and Pennsylvania. Hooker was dismissed, and Meade, summoning all available troops to his standard, marched in haste to arrest Lee’s progress. They met at Gettysburg, where, after terrible slaughter, Lee confessed his failure, and retreated unmolested to Virginia.[175] Beauregard’s successful defence of Charleston consoled the Confederates for the failure of Lee’s invasion of Maryland and Pennsylvania, and in September they were further cheered by Longstreet’s victory over Rosecrans at Chickamauga in Tennessee. Though the obstinate valour of General Thomas’s division enabled Rosecrans to rally his troops on Chattanooga heights, the position of the Federals in Tennessee was perilous. Rosecrans at Chattanooga, and Burnside at Knoxville, were separated in the midst of a hostile population, and Lee was hurrying on reinforcements to strengthen General Bragg, who was threatening the Federal Commanders. On the other hand, Grant, who had the chief command in this region, was reinforced by Sherman, and he determined to attack Bragg as the easiest way of relieving Burnside. This he did on the 23rd of November at Missionary Ridge, his plan being to overwhelm Bragg’s right by hurling masses of Sherman’s troops against it till he broke it up. When Sherman was repulsed, the Federals then attacked the left centre of the Confederate position, compelling Bragg to retreat to the frontier of Georgia. Grant then fell back on Chattanooga, Burnside holding his entrenchments at Knoxville, from which Longstreet drew off his forces. Thus, though the Northern campaign in Virginia was unsuccessful, the Federals were masters of the Mississippi and of Tennessee when the year closed. The Confederate Government, failing to induce Lord Russell to recognise the Southern States, withdrew their envoy, Mr. Mason, from London.

In early summer (8th May) the Queen and the Princess Alice paid a visit rather unexpectedly to Netley Hospital, the foundation-stone of which had been laid seven years before by the late Prince Consort. She visited ward after ward, conversed with the invalided soldiers in a soft, low voice, questioning

the officials about their cases, and even penetrated to the married men’s quarters, where she carefully inquired into the comfort of the soldiers’ wives and their families. One of the men, in whose case she had interested herself, was dying, and in broken accents exclaimed, as she went away, “I thank God that He has allowed me to live long enough to see your Majesty with my own eyes.” On the 9th of June the Queen and the younger members of her family came to town from Windsor to inspect privately the memorial of the Great Exhibition—which also took the character of a memorial to the late Prince Consort—in the Royal Horticultural Society’s Gardens at Kensington. It was inaugurated next day by the Prince and Princess of Wales, attended by a company of ladies and gentlemen from the Court.

On the 12th of June the Queen received an extraordinary address on the birthday of the late Prince Consort from the ballast-heavers of the Port of London, which touched her very deeply. In it they said, “Before he (Prince Albert) came to our aid we could only get work through a body of riverside publicans and middlemen, who made us drink before they would give us a job, made us drink while we were at it, and kept us waiting for our wages, and drinking after we had done our work, so that we could only take half our wages home to our families, and that half too often through a drunkard’s hands.” The Prince, it seems, on getting an appeal from them, privately persuaded the Government to insert a clause in the Merchant Shipping Act putting these men under the control of the Corporation of Trinity House. Then he used his influence in the Corporation to pass rules for the employment of ballast-heavers, which met most of their grievances, and he even gave them a house where they might wait for work, supplied it with papers and books, and helped them to start a benefit society. The men said in their address that they were in the habit of celebrating their deliverance from bondage by an annual treat on the Queen’s birthday, and they added, “Your Majesty will not wonder that we then think with equal gratitude of our deliverer. He year by year asked after us, and rejoiced to hear of our improvement while he lived on earth.” They were, however, desirous of having a portrait of the Prince to hang in their room, and begged the Queen to give them one. “We hope,” they said, “your Majesty will excuse our boldness in asking this favour, but we feel we may speak to our Prince’s wife; and, therefore, praying you to grant our humble request, we are your Majesty’s most obedient and faithful servants.” The Queen’s answer came from her heart. It was as follows:—

Nor was this the only occasion during the year on which the Queen manifested her vigilant interest in the lot of her poorer subjects. In July a wretched woman named Geneive had been forced by her husband to walk on a rotten tight rope, suspended thirty yards above the ground, at a Foresters’ Fête in Aston Park, Birmingham. The rope broke, and the poor creature, who was far advanced in pregnancy, was dashed to pieces in the most shocking manner. Yet the fête was continued, the Committee callously determining “to go on with the programme, omitting the dangerous parts.” On the 25th of July the Mayor of Birmingham was somewhat startled to receive from Sir C. B. Phipps a letter in the following terms:—“The Queen has commanded me to express to you the pain with which her Majesty has read the account of a fatal accident which has occurred during a fête at Aston Park, Birmingham. Her Majesty cannot refrain from making known through you her personal feelings of horror that one of her subjects—a female—should have been sacrificed to the gratification of the demoralising taste, unfortunately prevalent, for exhibitions attended with the greatest danger to the performers. Were any proof wanting that such exhibitions are demoralising, I am commanded to remark that it would be at once found in the decision arrived at to continue the festivities, the hilarity, and the sports of the occasion after an event so melancholy. The Queen trusts that you, in common with the rest of the townspeople of Birmingham, will use your influence to prevent in future the degradation to such exhibitions of the Park which was gladly opened by her Majesty and the beloved Prince Consort, in the hope that it would be made serviceable for the healthy exercise and rational recreation of the people.” The Mayor explained that when he became a patron of the fête he did not know that a dangerous exhibition was contemplated, and though Aston Park was outside his jurisdiction, he promised to use his influence to prevent such exhibitions from being held there in future.

On the 11th of August the Queen left London for Antwerp, from which she proceeded to Laeken with the King of the Belgians. From Belgium she went on to Gotha, where she stayed at the Castle of Rosenau till the 7th of September. On the 8th of the month her Majesty journeyed to Kranichstein, near Darmstadt, and spent the day with the Princess Louis of