CHAPTER XVI.

THE ILLNESS OF THE PRINCE OF WALES.

The closing weeks of 1870 and the early days of 1871 were full of anxiety to the Queen. Despite its services to the country, the Cabinet was obviously losing ground. The Franco-Prussian War had brought about a great change in the minds of the people as to the kind of work they wanted their Government to do, and it was certain that Mr. Gladstone and his colleagues did not respond quickly to the new impulse which the fall of Imperialism in France, and the rise of the new German Empire had given to public opinion in England. When the Cabinet took office, retrenchment and reform at home, and isolation abroad, were objects which the nation desired the Government to pursue. The victories of Prussia certainly strengthened the hands of the Ministry in carrying out their education policy. But in every other department of public life the people began to expect from the Cabinet what the Cabinet was not, by its temperament, likely to give. Ministers, in their handling of the Army and Navy, for example, made economy the leading idea of their policy. The country, on the other hand, alarmed at the collapse of France, put efficiency before economy. Non-intervention in Foreign Affairs, which was the policy of the Ministry, and which had been the policy of the Tory Opposition, was discredited when Russia repudiated the Black Sea Clauses of the Treaty of Paris, and when it was discovered that somehow Lord Granville’s management of Foreign Affairs had left England with enemies, and not with allies, in the councils of the world. Forgetful of the stormy sea of foreign troubles through which Palmerston was perpetually steering the labouring vessel of State, the nation began to long for a Minister who could make England play a great part in the drama of Continental politics. Lord Granville’s “surrender” in the Black Sea Conference was admittedly dignified and adroit, but it did not on that account satisfy the country. Why had he not pressed for an equivalent right on the part of England and the Powers to pass the Dardanelles? That would, at all events, have made the Black Sea an European instead of a Russian lake, or rather a lake whose waters Russia shared with a weak and decaying Power like Turkey. Why did he not recast the Foreign Policy of England, and proceed to check Russia diplomatically by strengthening Austria in the Danube? If the irritation of the United States was paralysing England in Europe, why was no decided action taken to bring about an equitable settlement of the Alabama Claims? Why was the recognition of the new French Republic delayed, when it was known that even Von Bismarck deigned to treat with it for peace, and when its recognition would raise up for England a friendly feeling in France? All these and other questions were asked by men who were not partisans, and who were, on the whole, well disposed to Mr. Gladstone’s administration.

The only reform movement, indeed, that excited any popular enthusiasm at the beginning of 1871, was that which Mr. Trevelyan had started after he resigned his Civil Lordship of the Admiralty, because Mr. Forster’s Education Bill increased the grant to denominational schools. It was significant, too, that this movement was one for making the army more efficient by abolishing the system that permitted officers to buy their commissions and their promotion. It had been said that nothing could be done to render the army formidable, so long as the Commander-in-Chief was its absolute ruler. The result was that the Duke of Cambridge was made subordinate to the Secretary of State. Next it was said that nothing could be done to improve the army so long as it was pawned to its officers, who had acquired by purchase something like a vested right in maintaining the existing military system. Abolition of Purchase, therefore, in 1871, seemed to be the only point of contact between the nation and the Cabinet, who were supposed to favour Mr. Trevelyan’s agitation. The demand for increasing the army, when sanctioned by a Parliamentary vote, Mr. Cardwell evaded. When merely sanctioned by public opinion he either ignored it, or, as in the case of issuing breech-loading rifles to the Volunteers, yielded to it after resisting it for about eight months. The changes in the Cabinet due to Mr. Bright’s resignation further lessened confidence in the Government. Mr. Chichester Fortescue, in spite of his half-hearted Fenian amnesty, was on the whole a popular and active Irish Secretary. He, however, was appointed to succeed Mr. Bright at the Board of Trade, where he had to guide a department charged with interests of which he was utterly ignorant. Lord Hartington, on the other hand, whose transference to the War Office would have been gratifying to the country, was sent to the Irish Office, to the consternation of those Liberals who had been dissatisfied with the reactionary tone of his speeches on Irish affairs. The general desire for new War and Foreign Ministers was ignored.[1]

But perhaps the most extraordinary change in public sentiment in 1871 was that which marked public opinion in relation to the marriage of the Princess Louise. When it was announced, popular feeling was clearly in favour of the alliance. But towards the end of January, 1871, there was hardly a large borough in England, the member for which on addressing his constituents, was not asked menacingly if he meant to vote for a national dowry to the Princess. Too often, when the member said he intended to give such a vote, he was hissed by the meeting. Mr. Forster escaped a hostile demonstration by humorously parrying the question. He said he could not consent to fine the Princess for marrying a Scotsman. At Halifax Mr. Stansfeld was seriously embarrassed by the question. At Chelsea both members nearly forfeited the usual vote of confidence passed in them by their constituents. Mr. White at Brighton had to promise to vote against the dowry; at Birmingham Messrs. Dixon and Muntz could hardly get a hearing from their constituents when they defended it. The annoyance which the Queen suffered when she saw her daughter’s name rudely handled at angry mass

meetings was unspeakable. This unexpected ebullition of public feeling was due to a belief among the electors that when Royalty formed matrimonial alliances with subjects it ought to accept the rule which prevails among persons of private station, and frankly recognise that it is the duty of the husband to support the wife. To demand a dowry of £40,000 and an income of £6,000 a year for the Princess Louise, it was argued, was preposterous. The lady, it was said, could not possibly need it, seeing that she was to marry a nobleman who was able to maintain his wife, and who, had he not married a princess, would have been expected to maintain her in the comfort befitting his inherited rank and social position. But common sense soon reasserted its sway over the nation. It was then speedily admitted that a great country lowered its dignity when it chaffered with the Sovereign over allowances which were necessary to sustain a becoming stateliness of life in the Royal Family.[2]

In the course of the discussions that were carried on as to the dowry of the Princess Louise many ill-natured allusions had been made to the Queen’s life of seclusion, and it had been broadly hinted that she was neglecting her public duties. It was unfortunate that steps were not taken by some person in authority to refute this calumny, for, if her Majesty shunned the nervous excitement of public ceremonials, it was for the purpose of husbanding her strength for the transaction of official business. Still, the people were kept in ignorance of that fact, and the result was that when the Queen proceeded in person to open Parliament on the 9th of February, 1871, she was for the first time in her life rather coldly received on the route from the Palace to Westminster. The Speech from the Throne dealt chiefly with Foreign Affairs, and it represented fairly the national feeling in favour of a policy of neutrality, tempered, however, with a strong desire to preserve the existence of France as “a principal and indispensable member of the great Commonwealth of Europe.” Two points in it were recognised as being in a special sense the expression of the Queen’s own views. These were (1), the cordial congratulation of Germany on having attained a position of “solidity and independence,” and (2), the carefully-guarded suggestion that Germany should be content with the cession of a mountain barrier beyond the Rhine on her new frontier, and not endanger the permanence of the peace, which must soon come by pressing for the cession of French fortresses, which, in German hands, must be a standing menace to France. Perhaps the most popular paragraph in the Speech was the one which indicated that the Governments of England and the United States, after much futile and bitter controversy, were at last agreed that the Alabama dispute should be settled by friendly arbitration before a mixed Commission. The instinct of the masses taught them that the “latent war,” as Mr. Hamilton Fish called it, between the two kindred peoples, explained why England had suddenly lost her influence in the councils of Europe. By its reference to Home Affairs, the Royal Speech, for the time, strengthened the popularity of the Ministry. It promised a Ballot Bill, a Bill for abolishing University Tests, for readjusting Local Taxation, for restricting the grants of Licences to Publicans, for reorganising Scottish Education, and for reforming the Army. When the Debate on the Address was taken, the House of Commons was obviously in a state of high nervous tension. It was half angry with Mr. Gladstone because he had not pursued a more spirited Foreign Policy, and because, by submitting to the abolition of the Black Sea Clauses of the Treaty of Paris, and assuming an isolated attitude towards France and Germany, he had made England the mere spectator of great events, the course of which she yearned to influence, if not to control. On the other hand, the House showed plainly that it was thankful that the country had been kept out of the embarrassments and entanglements of war. Indeed it was clear that, if Mr. Gladstone had pursued a more spirited policy at the risk of enforcing it by arms, he would have been hurled from power by the votes of the very men who now sneered at his policy because it was spiritless.

Mr. Disraeli’s tone was less patriotic than usual. He was careful to say nothing that would commit him and his party to any other policy than that of neutrality; but he was equally careful to encourage a belief that this policy had been adopted, not from prudence, but from cowardice. To use one of his own phrases, he “threatened Russia with a clouded cane;” though, as he knew well, the Black Sea dispute had by that time ended. He endangered the prospects of peaceful arbitration on the Alabama Claims, by his bitter allusions to the United States. He poured ridicule on the military feebleness of the country at a crisis when a patriotic statesman would have naturally preferred to remain silent on such a theme. But the effect of his attack was somewhat diminished by his attempt to show that military impotence was naturally associated with Liberal Governments. Everybody knew that all governments, Liberal or Tory, were equally responsible for the bad state of the army, and that they had all equally resisted the popular demand for reform, till it grew so loud that Mr. Cardwell was forced to yield to it.

The great measure of the Session was of course the Army Bill, which was introduced by Mr. Cardwell, on the 16th of February. It abolished the system by which rich men obtained by purchase commissions and promotion in the army, and provided £8,000,000 to buy all commissions, as they fell in, at their regulation and over-regulation value.[3] In future, commissions were to be awarded either to those who won them by open competition, or who had served as subalterns in the Militia, or to deserving non-commissioned officers. Mr. Cardwell also proposed to deprive Lords-Lieutenant of Counties of the power of granting commissions in the militia. He laid down the lines of a great scheme of army reorganisation which bound the auxiliary forces closer to the regular army, gave the country 300,000 trained men, divided locally into nine corps d’armée, for home defence, kept in hand a force of 100,000 men always available for service abroad, and raised the strength of the artillery from 180 to 336 guns. This, however, he did at the cost of £15,000,000 a year—a somewhat extravagant sum, seeing that 170,000 of the army of defence consisted of unpaid volunteers. The debate that followed was a rambling one. The Tory Party defended the Purchase system because good officers had come to the front by its means. Even a Radical like Mr. Charles Buxton was not ashamed to argue that promotion by selection on account of fitness, would sour the officers who were passed over with discontent. Lord Elcho, though he made a “palpable hit” in detecting the inadequacy of Mr. Cardwell’s scheme of National Defence, sedulously avoided justifying the sale of commissions in the army. He based his objection to the abolition of Purchase on the ground that it would involve “the most wicked, the most wanton, the most uncalled for waste of the public money.” Here we have depicted a vivid contrast between the House of Commons of the Second, and the House of the Third Reform Bill. In these latter days Lord Wemyss—who in 1871 was Lord Elcho—would hardly venture to obstruct any measure of reform because there was tacked on to it a scheme for compensating “vested interests” too generously. The Representatives of the People would now meet such an objection by simply cutting down the compensation. And Mr. Cardwell had an excellent opportunity for doing this ready to his hands. The money paid for commissions was far above the regulation price, and yet it was a statutory offence punishable by two years’ imprisonment to pay over-regulation prices. In fact, Parliament may be said to have betrayed the country in this transaction. Not only had it connived at the offence of paying over-regulation money, but it made its connivance a pretext for compensating the offenders for the loss of advantages they had gained by breaking the law.

Only two arguments worthy of the least attention were brought forward by the Opposition. The first was that abolition of Purchase would weaken the regimental system. For it was contended that promotion by selection for officers above the rank of captain—which was the substitute proposed for promotion by Purchase—involving, as it did, transfers from one regiment to another, must destroy the regimental home-life.[4] The second was, that it would tend to create a professional military caste, who might, as Mr. Bernal Osborne argued, prove dangerous to the liberties of the people. It was, however, felt that it was absurd to sacrifice the efficiency of the Army to its regimental home life, and that one of the strongest objections to the Purchase system was that it rendered the Army amateurish rather than professional. But in the long controversy that raged through the Session no argument told more effectively than Mr. Trevelyan’s citation of Havelock’s bitter complaint that “he was sick for years in waiting for promotion, that three sots and two fools had purchased over him, and that if he had not had a family to support he would not have served another hour.” Mr. Cardwell, too, left nothing to be said when he told the House of Commons that Army reformers were paralysed by Purchase. Every proposal for change was met by the argument that it affected the position of officers who had paid for that position. In fact, the British Army was literally held in pawn by its officers, and the nation had virtually no control over it whilst it was in that ignominious position. The debate, which seemed interminable, ended in an anti-climax that astonished the Tory Opposition. Mr. Disraeli threw over the advocates of Purchase, evidently dreading an appeal to the country, which might have resulted in a refusal to compensate officers for the over-regulation prices they had paid for their commissions in defiance of the statute. The Army Regulation Bill thus passed the Second Reading without a division. In Committee the Opposition resorted to obstructive tactics, and attempted to talk out the Bill by moving a series of dilatory and frivolous amendments. The clique of “the Colonels,” as they were called, in fact anticipated the Parnellites of a later date in inventing and developing

this form of factious and illegitimate opposition. Mr. Cardwell so far succumbed that after weary weeks of strife he withdrew his reorganisation scheme, merely insisting on the Purchase clauses, and on the transference of control over the auxiliary forces from Lords-Lieutenant of Counties to the Queen. But the Opposition still threatened to obstruct the Bill, and it was not till Mr. Cardwell warned them that he could stop the payment of over-regulation money for commissions by enforcing the law, that the measure was allowed to pass. In the House of Lords the Bill was again obstructed, in spite of Lord Northbrook’s able argument that until Purchase was abolished the Government could not develop their scheme of Army reorganisation, which was to introduce into England the Prussian system without compulsory service. The Tory Peers did not actually venture to vote in favour of Purchase. But they passed a resolution declining to accept the responsibility of assenting to its abolition without further information. Mr. Gladstone met them with a bold stroke. By statute it was enacted that only such terms of Purchase could exist as her Majesty chose to permit by Royal Warrant. The Queen therefore, acting on Mr. Gladstone’s advice, cancelled her warrant permitting Purchase, and thus the opposition of the Peers was crushed by what Mr. Disraeli indignantly termed “the high-handed though not illegal” exercise of the Royal Prerogative.[5] The rage of the Tory Peers knew no bounds. And yet what could Mr. Gladstone have done? The Ministry might have resigned, but in that case the Tory Party, as mere advocates of Purchase, could not have commanded a majority of the House of Commons. New Peers might have been created, but to this obsolete and perilous method of coercing the Lords the Queen had a natural and justifiable antipathy. Parliament might have been dissolved, but then the appeal to the country would probably have raised the question whether it was desirable to continue the existence of an unreformed House of Lords side by side with a reformed House of Commons.[6] The only other course was to bow to the decision of the Peers, admitting that they must be permitted to quash a reform, which was passionately desired by the nation, and that they must be allowed to coerce the House of Commons, as in the days when they nominated a majority of its members. To have adopted either of these courses would have been fatal to the authority, perhaps even to the existence, of the Upper House. Thus the excuse of the Royal Prerogative, which removed the subject of contention between the two Houses, was really the means of saving the Lords from a disastrous conflict with the People. The Peers, however, carried a vote of censure on the Government, who ignored it, and then their Lordships passed the Army Regulation Bill without any alteration, nay even without dividing against the clauses transferring the patronage of the Militia from Lords-Lieutenant of Counties to the Crown.

The Session of 1871 was also made memorable by the struggle over the Ballot Bill, in the course of which nearly all the devices of factious obstruction were exhausted. The Ballot had become since 1832 the shibboleth of Radicalism.[7] Resistance to it had been accepted as the first duty of a Conservative. The arguments for the Ballot were (1), that by allowing men to vote in secret they were free from intimidation, and (2), that when votes were given in secret men were not likely to buy them, for they had no longer any means of knowing whether value was ever given for their money. On the other hand, the Tories argued (1), that to vote in secret was cowardly and unmanly; (2), that it was unconstitutional; and (3), that it weakened the sense of responsibility in the voter who had no longer the pressure of public opinion on him.[8] But though these arguments were elaborated at enormous length, they were felt by the average elector to be wiredrawn and academic. To him the practical object of any system of election was to get the voter to give effect to his own real opinion, and not the opinion of somebody else, in choosing a member. There could be nothing constitutional, or moral, or distinctively “English,” in a man who desired to be represented by A voting for B, either because his landlord or his employer or some of his neighbours intimidated or bribed him into doing so. Nor could his sense of duty be strengthened under a system which enabled him to cast the responsibility for a false vote on those who had coerced or bribed him into giving it. No doubt the prospect of getting rid of violent scenes and of the demonstrations of turbulent mobs round the polling-booths where men voted in public, induced many independent politicians, who were not insensible to the weight of some of the Conservative arguments, to accept the Ballot. Strictly speaking, when the question was lifted out of the mire of mere party controversy it came to this—whether Englishmen, in giving their votes, preferred the protection of secrecy, to the protection of a strong law punishing those who attempted to interfere with their independence. To set the law in motion against a rich man in England is a costly, and sometimes a dangerous, process. Hence the majority of Englishmen preferred the protection of secrecy.

Mr. Forster’s Ballot Bill was introduced on the 28th of February, and when the Second Reading had been passed after three nights’ dull debate in June, the Conservatives attempted to talk it out by reviving, on various frivolous pretexts, a discussion on the principle of the Bill in Committee.[9] After these tactics had been exhausted, the Opposition endeavoured to smother the Bill with dilatory amendments. The supporters of the Government, on the other hand, attempted to defeat the factious obstruction of their opponents by remaining silent during the debates. The obstructive party, after a long and tedious fight, were beaten, and the Bill passed through Committee, but shorn of the clauses which cast election expenses on the rates, and made all election expenses not included in the public returns, corrupt expenses.[10] When the Bill reached the House of Lords, the real motive which dictated the apparently futile and stupid obstruction of the Conservative Opposition in the House of Commons, was quickly revealed. The Lords rejected the Bill on the 18th of August, not merely because they disliked and dreaded it, but because it had come to them too late for proper consideration.[11]

Ministers were more successful with some other measures. In spite of much Conservative opposition they passed a Bill abolishing religious tests in the Universities of Oxford and Cambridge, and throwing open all academic distinctions and privileges except Divinity Degrees and Clerical Fellowships to students of all creeds and faiths. Mr. Bruce passed a Trades Union Bill, which gave all registered Unions the legal status and legal protection of ordinary corporations.[12] The vague language of the old Act touching intimidation was swept away, and only such forms of coercion as were not only in themselves obviously brutal, but could also be clearly defined, were made punishable. A decision of the law courts, however, deprived the Unions of many of the benefits they had expected to gain under the Act.[13] Mr. Bruce’s Bill, regulating the licensing of public-houses, another large measure, was abandoned, but not till it had converted all the Radical and Liberal publicans and their clientèle into stern and uncompromising Tories. Mr. Goschen’s scheme for reforming Local Government and Taxation was far-reaching and comprehensive, but it alarmed the landlords, for it divided rates between owners and occupiers, and levied rates on game rents.[14]

But by far the most damaging failure of the Session was Mr. Lowe’s Budget. It was known that the large outlay on the Army, due to the abolition of Purchase and other causes, would leave a deficit of about £2,000,000 to be met by Mr. Lowe in the coming year’s accounts. How was he going to meet it? An elastic revenue and rigid economy in expenditure had left Mr. Lowe with a surplus of £396,681. But he had on the next year’s account an estimated deficit of £2,713,000,[15] which he proposed to meet by a tax on matches—“not on matrimonial engagements,” as he remarked,—by a readjustment of the Probate and Succession Duties, and by an increase of about one penny farthing in the £ of income-tax.[16] The Radicals attacked the Budget furiously, and Mr. Disraeli formed with them what Mr. Gladstone termed an “unprincipled coalition.” But the Tories and the Radicals objected to the Budget on entirely different grounds. Mr. White, member for Brighton, quoting Mr. Bright’s declaration that a Government which could not rule the country with £70,000,000 of revenue did not deserve public confidence, complained of the increase in the Army Estimates, and warned the House that if such enormous sums were spent on the protection of property, the people would elect a Parliament pledged to tax property to pay them. Mr. Disraeli, correctly gauging popular feeling, objected to the match tax, the proposal of which enraged the poor match-makers of the East End of London. He gave just expression to the feeling not only of his own Party, but of almost all the rich men on the Liberal benches, when he denounced any increase in the Succession Duties. The Government only escaped defeat by hinting that they would abandon the Match Tax. After some fencing, the whole Budget was reconstructed, the Succession Duties being also given up, and the additional supplies needed by the Government being met by a twopenny income-tax.[17] There could be no better illustration of the strength and weakness of the Gladstone Government than this Budget. Theoretically and logically, it was quite defensible. Purchase in the Army had existed for the convenience and advantage of the wealthy classes. It was, therefore, fair to increase the Succession Duties in order to pay the expense of abolishing it. The Match Tax again satisfied the ideal of public financiers, who all yearned for the discovery of an impost that should fall on an article which, though used by the masses, was yet not food, or one of those “luxuries” like tea, which can with difficulty be distinguished from necessaries. Moreover, as Professor Stanley Jevons proved, the Match Tax would have laid even on the very poor less than one-third of the burden which had been imposed by the shilling duty on corn, that Mr. Lowe had repealed in 1869.[18] Unfortunately, however, Mr. Lowe, in preparing his Budget, ignored the prejudices and foibles of the people. He imagined that if he could defend his proposals logically, they would be accepted with gratitude and unanimity.

In Foreign Affairs, the Government did not improve their position in 1871, and yet they achieved one success, for which they failed to obtain sufficient credit. In May, the Queen was gratified to learn that a basis for settling the outstanding dispute between the United States and Great Britain had been at last discovered. It had been her firm conviction that this quarrel had caused England to lose her traditional influence over the affairs of Europe. The first essential step towards regaining that influence, in her opinion, was taken when it was agreed to submit to a Joint Commission of eminent Englishmen and Americans in Washington the points at issue between the two nations.[19] The American Commissioners, when they met their English colleagues, refused to consider claims for damages due to the Fenian raids in Canada. Not ignoring the Confederate raids from Canada on Vermont, the English Commissioners, on their side, did not press this point. With great courage and frankness, the British Government, through their Commissioners, expressed their sincere regret that Confederate cruisers had escaped from British ports to prey on American commerce. But they did not admit that they were to blame for such an untoward occurrence, nor did they offer what Mr. Sumner had demanded, any apology for recognising the Southern States as belligerents. American claims against England, and English claims against America, “growing out of” the Civil War, it was agreed should be alike referred to a Commission of Arbitration,[20] and the English Commissioners admitting that some just rule for determining international liability in such cases should be laid down, accepted the principle that neutrals are to be held responsible for negligence in allowing warships to be equipped or built in their ports for use against a belligerent. The English Commissioners next agreed to let this principle be applied to the Alabama Claims, and though they were blamed for allowing these claims to be determined by an ex post facto rule, it was difficult for them to adopt any other course. The rule was one that was essential to the protection of British commerce from American privateers in the event of England being engaged in any Continental war. To adopt it as just and right for claims that might accrue in the future, rendered it hardly possible to reject it as unjust and wrong for outstanding claims that had accrued in the past. As to the Fishery dispute, citizens of the United States, it was agreed, were to have for ten years the right to fish on the Canadian coast, and Canadians were to have a similar right of fishing on the coasts of the United States down to the 39th parallel of latitude. As the British Commissioners insisted that the balance of advantage was here conceded to the United States, and that it therefore ought to be paid for by them, that point was by mutual agreement referred to another Commission for adjustment. The chronic controversy as to the San Juan boundary was to be referred to the Emperor of Germany. These arrangements as embodied in the Washington Treaty were subjected to some carping criticism in England. Lord Russell moved, in the House of Lords, that the Queen should be asked to refuse to ratify the instrument, and Lord Salisbury taunted the Government with sacrificing the position of England as a neutral power. But the tone of the debate showed that in their hearts the Conservatives and the old Whigs were thankful that the country had been so honourably extricated from an embarrassing diplomatic conflict, and their attack on the Treaty was like that made by Mr. Sumner and General Butler on the other side of the Atlantic, merely a Party sortie.[21] In a few weeks it was universally admitted that the object which the Government had in view had been attained. As if by magic, the feeling of the United States towards England changed from one of menacing exasperation, to one of growing sympathy and friendliness. For the first time in the course of eighty years the average American stump orator found he could not evoke a round of applause, by hotly-spiced denunciations of England and Englishmen.

But, speaking generally, the Foreign Policy of the Government discredited it. In the struggle between France and Germany the Cabinet preserved a cold

neutrality, at a time when popular feeling would have supported it in protesting against the cession of Alsace and Lorraine to the conquering power. For this attitude, however, Lord Granville had a plausible excuse. Though the nation was sulky because an effective protest had not been made, it would not have tolerated any policy that might have led the country into war. Moreover, the Army had yet to be reorganised, and till that was done the voice of England was naturally of little account in the affairs of Europe. At the same time the meek and spiritless expression which Ministers habitually gave to their neutrality, irritated a proud and sensitive democracy who were every day taunted by Tory orators and writers with permitting themselves to be governed by a cowardly Cabinet. It seems just to say, even when one makes every allowance for the difficulties of their position, that in their handling of the diplomacy of the Franco-German War, Mr. Gladstone and Lord Granville missed a great opportunity. After the collapse of France at Sedan had been followed by that long series of German victories which ended in the capitulation of Paris, and the Armistice Convention between M. Jules Favre and Count von Bismarck (28th January, 1871), Englishmen were all agreed on one point. To cede Alsace and Lorraine to Germany was, in their opinion, to create a French Poland, or Venetia on the Rhine, whose chronic discontent must permanently imperil the peace of the world. But when the English Government in February attempted to dissuade Germany from exacting terms that inevitably rendered revenge the first duty of every French patriot, England found herself isolated. None of the Powers were prepared to join her in reviewing the conditions of peace which Germany might impose, and the German Chancellor never even deigned to answer the English remonstrance. England, in fact, had moved in the matter too late.

As far back as the 17th of October, 1870, Sir Andrew Buchanan told Lord Granville that the Czar, in his private letters to King William of Prussia, had expressed a hope that no French territory would be annexed. On the 4th of November the Italian Minister informed Lord Granville that whilst Italy admitted that French fortresses must be surrendered to the Germans, yet she held that there should be no cession of territory. Sir A. Paget, writing from Florence, also conveyed to Lord Granville about the same time the views of Signor Visconti to the effect that “the Italian Government had several times expressed the opinion that a peace in which Germany would seek her guarantees by the dismantling of fortresses, &c., would afford better securities for its duration than one which would be likely to create a new question of nationalities.” Here there was a basis for a joint representation on the part of the European Powers—for Austria all through had only been held back through fear of Russia—both to France and Germany. France might have been warned that, in spite of M. Jules Favre’s formula,[22] she, as the defeated aggressor, had no right to object to her menacing strongholds being razed. Germany might have been reminded that, in the interests not of France but of Europe, it was her duty as a great and civilising Power not to demand a cession of territory, the recovery of which must be to France an object of ceaseless striving.

The Queen would gladly have used her personal influence with the German Emperor in urging on the Court of Berlin the policy and justice of this representation. Lord Granville’s subordinates had assured him that France, despite M. Favre’s heroics, would agree to anything if spared the surrender of territory. It is now known that even Bismarck himself was not desirous of the annexation of Alsace and Lorraine against the will of their inhabitants.[23] The German generals had, however, claimed what they deemed a safe, military frontier, and though Von Bismarck induced them not to insist on the cession of Belfort, he could not repel their demand for Alsace, a third part of Lorraine, and Metz and Strasburg. The German Crown Prince was, moreover, understood to be opposed to any irritating and unnecessary annexation. Hence all the chances were in favour of success, if Lord Granville, acting with Russia and Italy, had approached Germany with a cordial and courteous appeal, to reject the advice of her military party, and moderate their demands in the interests of Europe.[24] But the golden opportunity of strengthening Von Bismarck’s hands was lost. Lord Granville not only refused to abandon his attitude of rigid neutrality, but he couched his policy in phrases so ostentatiously deferential to Germany, that they almost justified the half-contemptuous replies which Von Bismarck at this time sent to all despatches from the English Foreign Office, which he did not entirely ignore. In February, 1871, when Lord Granville at last plucked up heart to remonstrate with Germany, her victorious armies had made sacrifices that rendered his tardy protests impertinent. Italy and Russia had sense enough to recognise this fact. They therefore refused to join England when Lord Granville sent his remonstrance to Von Bismarck, who tossed it into his diplomatic waste-paper basket.[25]

It may be readily conceived, then, that, despite its public services, its invincible majority, and the failure of the Tory leaders to put before the country any policy of their own, signs of decay were already visible in the Government. Mr. Bruce had converted every publican into an enemy. The Dissenters had vowed vengeance against the Ministry, because Mr. Forster had increased the grant to denominational schools. The officers of the Army and the upper and upper-middle classes of society had resolved to punish Mr. Gladstone because he had allowed Mr. Cardwell to abolish Purchase. A few Radicals and many Whigs were also alarmed, because it had been abolished by Royal Prerogative, the use of which to coerce the Peers was resented by the aristocracy as an insult. The abolition of Purchase was to have been followed by an effective reorganisation of the Army. Hence the nation was profoundly disappointed to find the question of Army organisation made light of by Ministers during the recess. Mr. Cardwell’s project for autumn manœuvres on a large scale on the Berkshire Downs had to be abandoned, because his Control Department could not feed or supply his troops. When he substituted for this scheme a sham campaign in the neighbourhood of Aldershot, the Transport Service was found to be so bad that the Artillery had to be drawn upon to supply it with horses, carts, and drivers. The disaster to the Agincourt and the wreck of the Megæra, also gave colour to slanders against the Government which had issued from the Admiralty from the day that Mr. Childers began to reform its wasteful administration, and Mr. Goschen had continued his work.[26]

The Duke of Somerset, after the failure of the Berkshire campaign, had scoffed at the Government because they gave the nation “armies that could not march and ships that could not swim,” and the epigram was soon everywhere repeated. Mr. Gladstone’s appointment of Sir Robert Collier, the Attorney-General, to a seat on the Judicial Committee of the Privy Council was denounced far and wide as a job perpetrated by a tricky evasion of the law.[27] The Prime Minister’s management of the House of Commons had also cost him many friends. As Mr. Disraeli once said, it was like that of a

schoolmaster who was a little too fond of exhibiting the rod. Mr. Ayrton and Mr. Lowe during the Session even enhanced their reputation for irritating those who transacted business with them. But at every turn Mr. Gladstone was embarrassed by his Parliamentary majority. It had been elected to carry reforms which most of them individually dreaded. Their desire was therefore to discover, not pretexts for pushing the Ministry onward, but excuses which they could plausibly justify to their constituents for holding Ministers back. As for the working classes, they had imagined when Mr. Gladstone came to office “something would be done for them.” But nothing except the Trades Union Bill had been conceded to their demands, and even that measure was defaced by irritating provisions, inserted to please their masters. Mr. Disraeli’s strategy in these circumstances was artful, if not altogether admirable. He gently fomented every rising discontent. Without committing his Party to redress the wrongs of the discontented, he left on the country the impression that under his administration there would be less social friction than then existed, whilst there could not be much less social reform.

Other circumstances tended to strengthen Conservative feeling in England. Just as the triumph of democracy in the United States at the end of the Civil War gave a great impetus to English Liberalism, so did the march of events in France after the conclusion of peace produce a reaction in England against democracy. The French elections resulted in the return of the Assembly which met at Bordeaux on the 12th of February. Its majority consisted of Legitimists and Orleanists, and, since the Convocation of the Estates General in 1789, no French Parliament had ever met which contained so many men of high rank and good estate. It had no special mandate, but it very sensibly took in hand the task of making peace with Germany, and, having superseded the Government of National Defence, it elected M. Thiers as Chief of the Executive. He formed a Ministry which represented the best men of all parties. The new Government were confronted at the outset with an unexpected difficulty. The National Guard of Paris had been allowed to retain their arms, and they not only broke into revolt, but seized the capital and established in Paris the revolutionary Government of the Commune, General Cluseret, a revolutionary “soldier of fortune,” being appointed Minister of War. The idea of the revolt seems to have been to convert the ten great cities of France into autonomous States in federal alliance with the rest of the country, and the insurgents began by giving Paris a separate Government, Executive, Army, and Legislature. The Red Republicans imagined that by this device they could emancipate the artisans from the control of the peasants, who, under universal suffrage, were masters of France. The Commune was founded by honest fanatics, but it let loose the suppressed blackguardism of Paris, and before it was stamped out by the Army and the Government of Versailles, terrible atrocities not unworthy of the worst days of the “Terror” had been committed by the rabble whom it had armed, and was powerless to restrain. In England the excesses of the Commune were pointed to by Conservative writers and speakers as an apt illustration of the natural and logical tendencies of Radicalism.

The Queen’s domestic life during 1871 was not much disturbed by the petty demonstrations of Republican feeling which were in vogue at the beginning of the year. They did not influence either the Ministry or Parliament; and when, on the 13th of February, Mr. Gladstone proposed the vote for the Princess Louise’s dowry in the House of Commons, only three Members voted against it.[28] Mr. Disraeli, though he supported the proposal, gently tickled the sympathies of its opponents by suggesting that the system of voting Royal grants should be changed. His idea was to maintain the Crown by an estate of its own, ample enough to cover all its personal and family expenses, and that Parliament should not be called on to grant money to the Queen save for expenditure on public pageantry.

When it was announced that the Queen had fixed the 21st of March for the Princess Louise’s marriage, the High Church Party were indignant that the ceremony was to be performed in Lent. They argued that when Royalty set an example contrary to the teachings of the Church, the influence of the clergy was weakened over, what the Guardian newspaper called, “the large area of society which lies between the inner circle of the devout and the multitude of the unattached outside the consecrated ground.” No heed, however, was paid to these remonstrances, and the Royal wedding, when it took place at Windsor, completely diverted popular attention from the Communist Reign of Terror in Paris. The enthusiasm of the capital, it is true, was rather qualified. The West End tradesmen were sulky because of the withdrawal of the Queen from the gaieties of the London season; and the populace was annoyed because the marriage did not take place in Westminster Abbey or St. Paul’s. But the provinces were unusually lavish in their demonstrations of sympathy with the Sovereign, and with the wedded pair who had broken down the barrier of caste which had been so long maintained between the Royal Family and the nation.[29]

The town of Windsor was en fête for the occasion, the people crowding the Castle Green, and the Eton boys occupying the Castle Hill. The police and soldiery kept a passage open for the guests who came from London by special train, and who were conveyed in Royal carriages to St. George’s Chapel amid general cheering and joyous ringing of bells. The Ministers of State, Foreign Princes and Ambassadors, and other prominent persons, were gay in rich and glittering uniforms. Of the bridal party, the first to arrive was the Duke of Argyll, with his family. He wore the dress of a Highland chieftain, with philabeg, sporran, claymore, and jewelled dirk. A plaid of Campbell tartan was thrown across his shoulders, over which was also hung the Order of the Thistle. He was accompanied by the Duchess of Argyll, who shone in silver and white satin. The Lord Chancellor, in wig and gown, and Lord Halifax, in Ministerial uniform of blue and gold, walked up the central aisle and took their seats, along with members of the Cabinet and the Privy Council, in the stalls to the left of the altar. Then came the Princess Christian, in pink satin, trimmed with white lace, and some Indian potentates, radiant in auriferous scarlet. Lord Lorne, the bridegroom, next entered, arrayed in the uniform of the Argyllshire Regiment of Volunteer Artillery, of which he was Colonel, looking pale and nervous. He was supported by his groomsmen, Lord Percy and Lord Ronald Leveson-Gower. The Princess Beatrice arrived evidently in high spirits, and wearing a pink satin dress, her sunny hair flowing freely down her back. The Princess of Wales, who received an almost affectionate greeting, was the last of the Royal party to come. All the members of the Royal Family were then present, with the exception of Prince Alfred. As the procession advanced up the nave, the bride was supported on the right by the Queen, and on the left by the Prince of Wales and the Duke of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha. The Princess, in her dress of white satin and veil of Honiton lace, was voted one of the most charming brides on whom the sun had shone. Eight bridesmaids followed, all daughters of dukes and earls, clad in white satin, decorated with red camellias. The Queen appeared in black satin, relieved by the broad blue ribbon of the Garter, and by a fall of white lace, which nearly reached to the ground. The service was read by the Bishop of London, the Queen giving away her daughter.[30] After the ceremony, the Queen took the bride in her arms, and kissed her heartily, while the Marquis of Lorne knelt and kissed the Queen’s hand. The Royal wedding breakfast was served in the magnificent oak-room of Windsor Castle, the company including the Prince and Princess of Wales, Prince Arthur, the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge, Prince and Princess Teck, the Duke of Saxe-Coburg, Prince and Princess Christian. Another breakfast for the general company was served in the Waterloo Gallery. When the newly-married pair left the Castle for Claremont, it was noticed that the bride wore a charming travelling costume of Campbell tartan. As they departed, their numerous relatives showered over them a quantity of white satin slippers, and, following an ancient Highland usage, a new broom was also thrown after them as they got into the carriage. The Oriental custom of flinging rice after a wedded couple, introduced into England by the family of Musurus Pasha, the Turkish Ambassador, had not then become the mode in the highest circles of Society.[31]