 CHAPTER 44 THE CRUISE OF THE ALABAMA, PART II The building of vessels for the Confederates began to go on with more boldness than ever. Two iron rams of the most formidable kind were built and about to be launched in 1863 for the purpose of forcibly opening the southern ports and destroying the blockading vessels. Mr. Adams kept urging on Lord Russell and for a long time in vain that something must be done to stop their departure. Lord Russell at first thought the British government could not interfere in any way. Mr. Adams pressed and protested, and at length was informed that the matter was now under the serious consideration of Her Majesty's government. At last, on September 5, Mr. Adams wrote to tell Lord Russell that one of the iron clad vessels was on the point of departure from this kingdom on its hostile errand against the United States, and added, It would be superfluous in me to point out to your lordship that this is war. On September 8, Mr. Adams received the following. Lord Russell presents his compliments to Mr. Adams and has the honor to inform him that instructions have been issued which will prevent the departure of the two iron clad vessels from Liverpool. Throughout the whole of the correspondence, Lord Russell took up one position. He insisted that the government could only act upon the domestic laws of England, and were not bound to make any alteration in these laws to please a foreign state. Nothing can be more self-evident than the fact that the government cannot infringe the laws of the country. During this controversy the law courts decided sometimes, in the case of the Alexandra, for example, that there was not evidence enough to justify the seizure or the stoppage of a vessel. But it has to be remembered that, in regard to the Alabama, what Mr. Adams asked was not the breaking of English law, but the holding, as it were, of the vessel to bail until the law could be ascertained. There is, however, a much wider question than this, in his views with regard to which Lord Russell seems to have been completely wrong. The laws of a country are made, first of all, to suit its own people. The people have a right to keep their laws unchanged as long as they please. They are not bound to alter them to suit the pleasure or the convenience of any other nation. All that is clear. But it is equally clear, on the other hand, that they cannot get out of their responsibility to another state by merely saying, We have such and such laws, and we do not choose to alter them. If the laws permit harm to be done to a foreign state, the people maintaining the laws must either make compensation to the foreign state, or they must meet her in war. It is absurd to suppose that our neighbors are to submit to injury on our part, merely because our laws do not give us the means of preventing the injury. Mr. Adams put it in the fairest manner to Lord Russell. This is war. In other words, the American government might have said, You can allow this sort of thing to go on if you like, but we must point out to you that it is simply war and nothing else. You are making war or allowing war to be made on us. You cannot shelter yourselves under an imaginary neutrality. If you choose to keep your laws as they are, very good, but you must take the consequences. The extraordinary mistake which Lord Palmerston and Lord Russell made was the assumption that the existence of certain domestic regulations of ours could be a sufficient answer to claims made upon us by our neighbors. Suppose we had no foreign enlistment act. Suppose the Confederates were allowed openly to raise armies and equip navies in England, and to fly their flag here, and go forth to make war on the United States with the permission of our government. Would it be enough to say to the United States, We are very sorry indeed, we do not like to see people making war on you from our territory, but unluckily we have no law to prevent it, and you must therefore only put up with it. The dullest English sympathizer with the cause of the Southern Confederation would not be taken in by a plea like this, or expect the United States to admit it. Yet the case set up by Lord Palmerston and Lord Russell was really not different in kind. It merely pleaded that although our ports were made the basis, and indeed the only basis of naval operations against the United States, we could not help it. Our laws were not framed as to give our neighbors any protection. The obvious retort on America's side was, then we must protect ourselves. We cannot admit that the condition of your municipal laws entitles you to become with impunity and nuisance and a pest to your neighbors. The position which Lord Palmerston and Lord Russell took up was wisely and properly abandoned by Lord Stanley, now Lord Darby, when the conservatives came into office. It was then frankly admitted that every state is responsible for the manner in which the working of its municipal laws may affect the interests of its neighbors. We need not however anticipate just now a controversy and a settlement yet to come. Lord Russell, it may be remarked, was mistaken in another part of his case. He was able to show that in some way or other the authorities of the United States had failed to prevent the enlistment of British subjects in this country for the armies of the Union. But his mistake was in supposing that this was a practical answer to the complaints made by Mr. Adams. There is some difference between a small grievance and a very great grievance. The grievance to us in the secret enlistment of a few British subjects for the northern service was not very serious. The authorities of the United States acknowledged that it was improper and promised to use all diligence to put a stop to it. And of course if they had failed to do so, it would be entirely for England to consider what steps she ought to take to obtain a redress of any wrong done to her. But in a practical controversy there was no comparison between the grievances. It is not a reasonable reply to a neighbor who complains that our fierce dog has broken into his house and bitten his children if we say that his cat has stolen into our kitchen and eaten our cream. It is strange, too, to observe that Lord Russell and the chief baron and other authorities constantly dwell on the fact that a neutral may sell arms to either belligerent and ask triumphantly, if arms, why not an armed vessel? If shot and shell, why not a cruiser or a ram? There is at all events one plain reason which would be enough even if there were none other. It is not possible to prove that the shot and shell have done any damage. It is possible to prove that the cruiser has. We cannot follow the rifle or the bullet to its destination. We can follow the Alabama. It would be idle to try to prove that a certain lot of gunpowder was discharged against the northern regiment, but it is easy to prove that the Alabama burned American vessels and confiscated American cargoes. The bitterness of the feeling in America was not mitigated, nor the sense of English unfairness made less keen by the production during the controversy of a dispatch sent from England to Washington at the opening of the Crimean War, in which the English government expressed a confident hope that the authorities of the United States would give orders that no priveteer under Russian colors should be equipped or victualed or admitted with its prizes into any of the ports of the United States. The controversy was carried on for some years. It became mixed up with disputes about Confederate raids from Canada into the States, and later on about Fennean raids from the States into Canada, and questions of fishery right, and various other matters of discussion. But the principal subject of dispute, the only one of real gravity, was that which concerned the crews of the Alabama. Lord Russell at length declined peremptorily to admit that the English government were in any way responsible for what had been done by the Confederate cruisers, or that England was called on to alter her domestic law to please her neighbors. Mr. Adams, therefore, dropped the matter for the time, intimating, however, that it was only put aside for the time. The United States government had their hands full just then, and in any case could afford to wait. The question would keep. The British government were glad to be relieved from the discussion and from the necessity of arguing the various points with Mr. Adams, and were under the pleasing impression that they had heard the last of it. Surveying the diplomatic controversy at this distance of time, one cannot but think that Mr. Adams comes best out of it. No minister representing the interests of his state in a foreign capital could have had a more trying position to sustain and a more difficult part to play. Mr. Adams knew that the tone of the society in which he had to move was hostile to his government and to his cause. It was difficult for him to remain always patient, and yet to show that the American government could not be expected to endure everything. It was not easy to retain always the calm courtesy which his place demanded and which was indeed an inheritance in his family of stately public men. He was embarrassed sometimes by the officious efforts, the volunteer intervention of some of his own countrymen, who knowing nothing of English political life and English social ways, fancied they were making a favorable impression on public opinion here by the tactics of a fall campaign at home. Moreover, it is plain that for a long time Mr. Adams was in much doubt as to the capacity of the military leaders of the North, and he well knew that nothing but military success could rescue the union from the diplomatic conspiracies which were going on in Europe for the promotion of the Southern cause. Mr. Adams appears to have borne himself all through with judgment, temper, and dignity. Lord Russell does not show to so much advantage. He is sometimes petulant. He is too often inclined to answer Mr. Adams's grave and momentous remonstrances with retorts founded on allegations against the North which even if well founded were of slight comparative importance. When Mr. Adams complains that the Alabama is sweeping American commerce from the seas, Lord Russell too often replies with some complaint about the enlistment of British subjects for the service of the Union, as if the Confederates making war on the United States from English ports with English ships and crews were no graver matter of complaint than the story, true or false, of some American agent having enlisted Tom Doolin and Sandy Mac's niche to fight for the North. Mr. Seward does not come out of the correspondence well. There is a curious evasiveness in his frequent floods of eloquence which contrasts unpleasantly with Mr. Adams's straightforward and manly style. Mr. Seward writes as if he were under the impression that he could plover Mr. Adams and Lord Russell and the British public into not believing the evidence of their senses. At the gloomiest hour of the fortunes of the North, Mr. Adams faces the facts and confident of the ultimate future makes no pretence at ignoring the seriousness of the present danger. Mr. Seward seems to think that public attention can be cheated away from a recognition of realities by a display of inappropriate rhetorical fireworks. At a moment when the prospect of the North seemed especially gloomy and when it was apparent to every human creature that its military affairs had long been in hopelessly bad hands, Mr. Seward writes to inform Mr. Adams that our assault upon Richmond is for the moment suspended and is good enough to add that no great and striking movements or achievements are occurring and the government is rather preparing its energies for renewed operations than continuing to surprise the world by new and brilliant victories. The Northern commanders had indeed for some time been surprising the world but not at all by brilliant victories and the suggestion that the Northern government might go on winning perpetual victories if they only wished it, but that they preferred for the present not to dazzle the world too much with their success must have fallen rather chillingly on Mr. Adams's ear. Mr. Adams knew only too well that the North must win victories soon or they might find themselves confronted with a European confederation against them. The Emperor Napoleon was working hard to get England to join with him in recognizing the South. Mr. Roebuck had at one time a motion in the House of Commons calling on the English government to make up their minds to the recognition and Mr. Adams had explained again and again that such a step would mean war with the Northern states. Mr. Adams was satisfied that the fate of Mr. Roebuck's motion would depend on the military events of a few days. He was right. The motion was never pressed to a division for during its progress there came at one moment the news that General Grant had taken Vicksburg on the Mississippi and that General Mead had defeated General Lee at Gettysburg and put an end to all thought of a Southern invasion. This news was at first received with resolute incredulity in London by the advocates and partisans of the South. In some of the clubs there was positive indignation that such things should even be reported. The outburst of wrath was natural. That was the turning point of the war although not many saw it even then. The South never had a chance after that hour. There was no more said in this country about the recognition of the Southern Confederation and the Emperor of the French was then forward free to follow out his plans as far as he could and alone. The Emperor Napoleon however was for the present confident enough. He was under the impression that he had heard the last of the protests against his Mexican expedition. This expedition was in the beginning a joint undertaking of England, France, and Spain. Its professed object, as set forth in a convention signed in London on October 31st, 1861, was to demand from the Mexican authorities more efficacious protection for the persons and properties of their, the Allied, sovereign subjects, as well as a fulfillment of the obligations contracted toward their majesties by the Republic of Mexico. Mexico had been for a long time in a very disorganized state. The constitutional government of Benito Juarez had come into power, but the reactionary party was still struggling to regain the upper hand and a sort of guerrilla warfare was actually going on. The government of Juarez, whatever its defects, gave promise of being stronger and better than that of its predecessors. It was however burdened with responsibility for the debts incurred and the crimes committed by its predecessors, and it entered into an agreement with several foreign states, England among the rest, to make over a certain proportion of the customs revenues to meet the claims of foreign creditors. This arrangement was not kept and timely satisfaction was not given for wrongs committed against foreign subjects, wrongs for the most part, if not altogether, done by the government which Juarez had expelled from power, but for which, of course, he as the successor to power was properly responsible. Lord Russell, who had acted with great forbearance toward Mexico up to this time, now agreed to cooperate with France and Spain in exacting reparation from Juarez. But he defined clearly the extent to which the intervention of England would go. England would join in an expedition for the purpose if necessary of seizing on Mexican custom houses and thus making good the foreign claims, but she would not go a step further. She would have nothing to do with upsetting the government of Mexico or imposing any European system on the Mexican people. Accordingly, the second article of the convention pledged the contracting parties not to seek for themselves any acquisition of territory or any special advantage, and not to exercise in the internal affairs of Mexico any influence of a nature to prejudice the right of the Mexican nation to choose and to constitute freely the form of its government. The emperor of the French, however, had already made up his mind that he would establish a sort of feudatory monarchy in Mexico. He had long and various schemes and ambitions floating in his mind concerning those parts of America on the shores of the Gulf of Mexico, which were once the possessions of France. In his dreamy, fantastic way he had visions of restoring French influence and authority somewhere along the shores of the Gulf, and the outbreak of the Southern Rebellion appeared to give him just the opportunity that he desired. At the time when the convention was signed, the affairs of the federal states seemed all but hopeless, and for a long time after they gave no gleam of hope for the restoration of the Union. Louis Napoleon was convinced, and for a long time after, that the Southern states would succeed in establishing their independence. He seems to have been of Mr. Robuck's way of thinking that the only fear we ought to have is lest the independence of the South should be established without us. He was glad, therefore, of the chance afforded him by the Mexican convention, and at the very time when he signed the convention with the pledge contained in its second article, he had already been making arrangements to found a monarchy in Mexico. If he could have ventured to set up a monarchy with a French prince at its head he would probably have done so, but this would have been too bold a venture. He therefore persuaded the Archduke Maximilian, brother of the Emperor of Austria, to accept the crown of the monarchy he proposed to set up in Mexico. The Archduke was a man of pure and noble character, but evidently wanting and strength of mind, and he agreed after some hesitation to accept the offer. Meanwhile the joint expedition sailed. We sent only a line of battleship, two frigates, and seven hundred marines. France sent, in the first instance, about two thousand five hundred men, whom she largely reinforced immediately after. Spain had about six thousand men under the command of the late Marshal Prim. The Allies soon began to find that their purposes were incompatible. There was much suspicion about the designs of France, although the French statesmen were every day repudiating in stronger and stronger terms the intentions imputed to them, and which soon proved to be the resolute purposes of the Emperor of the French. Some of the claims set up by France disgusted the other Allies. The Jacques claims were for a long time after as familiar a subject of ridicule as our own Pacifico claims had been. A Swiss house of Jacques and company had lent the former government of Mexico seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars, and got bonds from that government, which was on its very last legs, for fifteen millions of dollars. The government was immediately afterwards upset, and Juarez came into power. Monsieur Jacques modestly put in his claim for fifteen millions of dollars. Juarez refused to comply with the demand. He offered to pay the seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars lent, and five percent interest, but he declined to pay exactly twenty times the amount of the sum advanced. Monsieur Jacques had by this time become somehow a subject of France, and the French government took up his claim. It was clear that the Emperor of the French had resolved that there should be war. At last the designs of the French government became evident to the English and Spanish plenipotentiaries, and England and Spain withdrew from the convention. England certainly ought never have entered into it, but as she had been drawn in, the best thing then was for her to get out of it as decently and as quickly as she could. Nothing in the enterprise became her like to the leaving of it. End of Section 32 Section 33 of a history of our own times, Volume 3 by Justin McCarthy. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain, recording by Pamela Nagami, Chapter 44, The Cruise of the Alabama, Part 3. The Emperor of the French walked his own wild road wither that led him. He overran a certain portion of Mexico with his troops. He captured Puebla after a long and desperate resistance. He occupied the capital and set up the Mexican empire with Maximilian as emperor. French troops remained to protect the new empire. Against all this, the United States government protested from time to time. They disclaimed any intention to prevent the Mexican people from establishing an empire if they thought fit, but they pointed out that grave inconveniences must arise if a foreign power like France persisted in occupying with her troops any part of the American continent. The Monroe Doctrine, which by the way was the invention of George Canning and not of President Monroe, does not forbid the establishing of a monarchy on the American continent, but only the intervention of a European power to set up such a system or any system opposed to liberty there. However the Emperor Napoleon cared nothing just then about the Monroe Doctrine, complacently satisfied that the United States was going to pieces and that the Southern Confederacy would be his friend and ally. He received the protests of the American government with unveiled indifference. At last the tide in American affairs turned. The Confederacy crumbled away. Richmond was taken. Lee surrendered. Jefferson Davis was a prisoner. Then the United States returned to the Mexican question and the American government informed Louis Napoleon that it would be inconvenient, gravely inconvenient, if he were not to withdraw his soldiers from Mexico. A significant movement of American troops under a renowned general, then flushed with success, was made in the direction of the Mexican frontier. There was nothing for Louis Napoleon but to withdraw. Up to the last he had been rocked in the vainest hopes. Long after the end had become patent to every other eye, he assured an English Member of Parliament that he looked upon the Mexican Empire as the greatest creation of his reign. The Mexican Empire lasted two months and a week after the last of the French troops had been withdrawn. Maximilian endeavored to raise an army of his own and to defend himself against the daily increasing strength of Juarez. He showed all the courage which might have been expected from his race and from his own previous history. But in an evil hour for himself and yielding it is stated to the persuasion of a French officer he had issued a decree that all who resisted his authority in arms should be shot. By virtue of this monstrous ordinance, Mexican officers of the regular army taken prisoners while resisting as they were bound to do, the invasion of a European prince were shot like brigands. The Mexican general Ortega was one of those thus shamefully done to death. When Juarez conquered and Maximilian in his turn was made a prisoner, he was tried by court-martial, condemned, and shot. His death created a profound sensation in Europe. He had in all his previous career one respect everywhere, and even in the Mexican scheme he was universally regarded as a noble victim who had been deluded to his doom. The conduct of Juarez in thus having him put to death raised a cry of horror from all Europe, but it must be allowed that by the fatal decree which he had issued the unfortunate Maximilian had left himself liable to a stern retaliation. There was cold truth in the remark made at the time that if he had been only general and not Archduke Maximilian his fate would not have aroused so much surprise or anger. The French Empire never recovered the shock of this Mexican failure. It was chiefly in the hope of regaining his lost prestige that the Emperor tried to show himself a strong man in German affairs. More than three years before the fall of Maximilian the present writer in commenting on Louis Napoleon's scheme ventured to predict that Mexico would prove the Moscow of the Second Empire. Time has not shown that the prediction was rash. The French Empire outlived the Mexican Empire by three years and a few weeks. From the entering of Moscow to the arrival at St. Helena the interval was three years and one month. We need not follow any further the history of the American Civil War. The restoration of the Union, the assassination of President Lincoln, and the emancipation of the colored race from all the disqualifications as well as all the bondage of the slave system belong to American and not to English history. But the Alabama dispute led to consequences which are especially important to England and which shall be described in their due time. Meanwhile it is necessary for the proper appreciation of the final terms of the settlement that we should see exactly how the dispute arose and what was the condition of public feeling in this country at the time when it grew into serious proportions. If the final settlement was felt to be humiliating in England it must be owned that those who are commonly called the governing classes had themselves very much to blame. Their conviction that the Civil War must lead to the disruption of the Union was at the bottom of much of the indifference and apathy which for a long time was shown by English officials in regard to the remonstrances of the United States. The impression that we might do as we liked with the North was made only too obvious. The United States must indeed then have felt that they were receiving a warning that to be weak is to be miserable. It is not surprising if they believed at that time that England was disposed to adopt Sir Giles Overreach's way of thinking. We worldly men, when we see friends and kinsmen, past hope sunken their fortunes, lend no hand to lift them up, but rather set our feet upon their heads to press them to the bottom. It is not certain that the supporters of the southern side at any time actually outnumbered the champions of the North and of the Union, but they seemed for the greater part of the war's duration to have the influence of the country mainly with them. A superficial observer might have been excused at one time if he said that England as a whole was on the side of the secession. This would have been a very inaccurate statement of the case, but the inaccuracy would have been excusable and even natural. The vast majority of what are called the governing classes were on the side of the South. By far the greater number of the aristocracy, of the official world, of members of parliament, of military and naval men, were for the South. London club life was virtually all-southern. The most powerful papers in London and the most popular papers as well were open partisans of the Southern Confederation. In London, to be on the side of the Union was at one time to be eccentric, to be on English, to be Yankee. On the other hand, most of the great democratic towns of the Midland and of the North were mainly in favour of the Union. The artisans everywhere were on the same side. This was made strikingly manifest in Lancashire. The supply of cotton from America nearly ceased in consequence of the war and the greatest distress prevailed in that county. The cotton famine, called by no exaggerated name, set in. All that private benevolence could do, all that legislation enabling money to be borrowed for public works to give employment could do, was for a time hardly able to contend against the distress. Yet the Lancashire operatives were among the sturdiest of those who stood out against any proposal to break the blockade or to recognize the South. Mr. Cobden and Mr. Bright and the Manchester School generally, or at least all that were left of them, were for the North. A small but very influential number of thoughtful men, Mr. John Stuart Mill at their head, were faithful to their principles and stood firmly by the cause of the North. But the voice of London, that is the voice of what is called society, and of the metropolitan shopkeeping classes who draw their living from society, all this was for the South. It was not a question of liberal and Tory. The Tories on the whole were more discreet than the Liberals. It was not from the conservative benches of the House of Commons that the bitterest and least excusable denunciations of the Northern cause and of the American Republic were heard. It was a Liberal who declared with exaltation that the Republic bubble had burst. It was a Liberal, Mr. Roebuck, who was most clamorous for English intervention to help the South. It was Lord Russell, who described the struggle as one in which the North was striving for empire and the South for independence. It was Mr. Gladstone, who said that the President of the Southern Confederation, Mr. Jefferson Davis, had made an army, had made a navy, and more than that, had made a nation. On the other hand, it is to be remarked that among the Liberals, even of the official class, were to be seen some of the staunchest advocates of the Northern cause, the Duke of Argyle championed the cause from warm sympathy, Sir George Lewis from cool philosophy. Mr. Charles Villiers and Mr. Milner Gibson were frankly and steadily on the side of the North. The conservative leaders on the whole behaved with great discretion. Mr. Adams wrote in July 1863 that the opposition leaders are generally disinclined to any demonstrations whatever. Several of them in reality rather sympathize with us, but the body of their party continue animated by the same feelings to America which brought on the Revolution and which drove us into the War of 1812. Lord Darby indeed expressed his conviction that the Union never could be restored, but Lord Palmerston had done the same. Mr. Disraeli abstained from saying anything that could offend any Northerner and gave no indication of partisanship on either side. Lord Stanley always spoke like a fair and reasonable man who understood thoroughly what he was talking about. In this he was unfortunately somewhat peculiar among the class to which he belonged. Not many of them appeared precisely to know what they were talking about. They took their opinions from the most part from the Times and from the talk of the clubs. The talk of the clubs was that the Southerners were all gentlemen and very nice fellows who were sure to win and that the Northerners were low trading shopkeeping fellows who did not know how to fight, were very cowardly, and were certain to be defeated. There was a theory that the Northerners really rather liked slavery and would have had it if they could and that a Negro slave in the South was much better off than a free Negro in the Northern States. The geography of the question was not very clearly understood in the clubs. Those who endeavored to show that it was not easy to find a convenient dividing line for two federations on the North American continent were commonly answered that the Mississippi formed exactly the suitable frontier. It was an article of faith with some of those who then most eagerly discussed the question in London that the Mississippi flowed east and west and separated neatly the seceding states from the states of the North. The Times was the natural instructor of what is called society in London and the Times was unfortunately very badly informed all through the war. After the failure of General Lee's attempt to carry invasion into the North and the simultaneous capture of Vicksburg by General Grant, anyone, it might have been thought, who was capable of forming an opinion at all must have seen that the flood tide of the rebellion had been reached and was over, that the South would have to stand on the defensive from that hour, and that the overcoming of its defense considering the comparative resources of the belligerents was only a question of time. Yet, for a whole year or more, the London public was still assured that the Confederates were sweeping from victory to victory, that wherever they seemed, even to undergo a check, that was only a part of their superior policy which would presently vindicate itself in greater victory, that the North was staggering, crippled, and exhausted, and that the only doubt was whether General Lee would not at once march for Washington and establish the southern government there. Almost to the very hour when the South, its brave and brilliant defense all over, had to confess defeat and yield its broken sword to the conquerors, the London public was still invited to believe that Mr. Davis was floating on the full flood of success. While the hearts of all in Richmond were filled with despair, and the final surrender was accounted there a question of days, the Southern sympathizers in London were complacently bitten to look out for the full triumph and the assured independence of the Southern Confederation. On the last day of December, 1864, the Times complained that Mr. Seward and other teachers or flatterers of the multitude still effect to anticipate the early restoration of the Union, and in three months from that date the rebellion was over. Those who read and believed in such instruction, and up to the very last, their name was Legion, must surely have been bewildered when the news came of the capture of Richmond and the surrender of Lee. They might well have thought that only some miraculous intervention of a malignant fate could thus all at once have converted victory into defeat and turned the broken worthless levies of Grant and Sherman into armies of conquerors. In the end, the Southern population were as bitter against us as the North. The Southern states fancied themselves deceived. They too had mistaken the unthinking utterances of what is called society in England for the expression of English statesmanship and public feeling. It is proper to assert distinctly that at no time had the English government any thought of acting on the suggestion of the Emperor of the French and recognizing the South. Lord Palmerston would not hear of it, nor would Lord Russell. What might have come to pass if the Southern successes had continued a year longer, it would be idle now to conjecture. But up to the turning point, our statesmen had not changed, and after the turning point change was out of the question. There is nothing to blame in the conduct of the English government throughout all this trying time except as regards the manner in which they dismissed the remonstrances about the building of the priveteers. But it is not likely that impartial history will acquit them of the charge of having been encouraged in their indifference by the common conviction that the union was about to be broken up and that the North was no longer a formidable power. During the later months of his life, the Prince Consort had been busy in preparing for another great international exhibition to be held in London. It was arranged that this exhibition should open on May 1st, 1862, and although the sudden death of the Prince Consort greatly interfered with the prospects of the undertaking, it was not thought right that there should be any postponement of the opening. The exhibition was erected in South Kensington according to the design of General Folk. It certainly was not a beautiful structure. None of the novel charm which attached to the bright exterior of the Crystal Palace could be found in the South Kensington Building. It was a huge and solid erection of brick, with two enormous domes, each in shape so strikingly like the famous crinoline petticoat of the period that people amused themselves by suggesting that the principal idea of the architect was to perpetuate for posterity the shape and structure of the Empress Eugénie's invention. The fine arts department of the exhibition was a splendid collection of pictures and statues. The display of products of all kinds from the colonies was rich and was a novelty, for the colonists contributed little indeed to the exhibition of 1851, and the intervening eleven years had been a period of immense colonial advance. But the public did not enter with much heart into the enterprise of 1862. No one felt any longer any of the hopes which floated dreamily and gracefully round the scheme of 1851. There was no talk or thought of a reign of peace anymore. The civil war was raging in America, the continent of Europe was trembling all over with the spasms of war just done, and the premonitory symptoms of war to come. The exhibition of 1862 had to rely upon its intrinsic merits, like any ordinary show or any public market. Poetry and prophecy had nothing to say to it. England was left for some time to an almost absolute inactivity. As regards measures of political legislation, after the failure of the reform bill it was quite understood, as we have already said, that there was to be no more of reform while Lord Palmerston lived. At one of his elections for Tiverton, Lord Palmerston was attacked by a familiar antagonist, a sturdy, radical butcher, and asked to explain why he did not bring in another reform bill. The answer was characteristic. Why do we not bring in another reform bill? Because we are not geese. Lord Palmerston was heartily glad to be rid of schemes in which he had neither belief nor sympathy, and his absence of political foresight in home affairs made him satisfied that the whole question of reform was quietly shelved for another generation. It is not perhaps surprising that a busy statesman whose intellect was mostly exercised on questions of foreign policy should have come to this conclusion when cool critics on public affairs were ready to adopt with complacency a similar faith. The quarterly review said in 1863, reform is no longer talked of now, Mr. Bright has almost ceased to excite antipathy. Our statesman, it went on to say with portentious gravity, have awakened to the fact that the imagined reform agitation was nothing but an intrigue among themselves, and that the nation was far too sensible to desire any further approximation to the government of the multitude. Lord Palmerston was free to indulge in his taste for foreign politics. Between Palmerston and the radical party in England there was a growing coldness. He had not only thrown over reform himself, but he had apparently induced most of his colleagues to accept the understanding that nothing more was to be said about it. He had gone in for a policy of large expenditure for the purpose of securing the country against the possibility of invasion. He had lent himself openly to the propagation of what his adversaries called, not very unreasonably, the scare that was got up about Napoleonic invasion. When drawn into argument by Mr. Cobden on the subject, Lord Palmerston had betrayed a warmth of manner that was almost offensive, and had spoken of the commercial treaty with France as if it were a thing rather ridiculous than otherwise. He was unsparing whenever he had a chance in his ridicule of the ballot. He had very little sympathy with the grievances of the nonconformists, some of them even still real and substantial enough. He took no manner of interest in anything proposed for the political benefit of Ireland. Although an Irish landlord, an Irish peer, and occasionally speaking of himself in a half jocular way as an Irishman, he could not be brought even to affect any sympathy with any of the complaints made by the representatives of that country. He scoffed at all proposals about tenant right. Tenant right, he once said, is landlords wrong. And he was cheered for saying this by the landlords on both sides of the House of Commons, and he evidently thought he had settled the question. He was indeed impatient of all views, and he regarded what is called philosophic statesmanship with absolute contempt. The truth is that Palmerston ceased to be a statesman the moment he came to deal with domestic interests. When actually in the Home Office, and compelled to turn his attention to the business of that department, he proved a very efficient administrator because of his shrewdness and his energy. But as a rule he had not much to do with English political affairs, and he knew little or nothing of them. He was even childishly ignorant of many things which any ordinary public man is supposed to know. He was at home in foreign, that is in continental politics, for he had hardly any knowledge of American affairs, and almost up to the moment of the fall of Richmond was confident that the Union never could be restored, and that separation was the easy and natural way of settling all the dispute. He gave a pension to an absurd and obscure writer of Doggerill, and when a question was raised about this singular piece of patronage in the House of Commons it turned out that Lord Palmerston knew nothing about the man, but it gutted into his said somehow that he was a poet of the class of Burns. When he read anything except dispatches he read scientific treatises, for he had a keen interest in some branches of science, but he cared little for modern English literature. The world in which he delighted to mingle talked of continental politics generally, and the great knowledge of English domestic affairs would have been thrown away there. Naturally therefore when Lord Palmerston had nothing particular to do in foreign affairs and had to turn his attention to England he relished the idea of fortifying her against foreign foes. This was foreign politics seen from another point of view. It had far more interest for him than reform or tenant right. There were however some evidences of a certain difference of opinion between Lord Palmerston and some of his colleagues as well as between him and the radical party. His constant activity in foreign politics pleased some of his cabinet as little as it pleased the advanced liberals. His vast fortification schemes and his willingness to spend money on any project that tended toward war, or what seemed much the same thing, on any elaborate preparation against problematical war, was not congenial with the temperament and the judgment of some members of his administration. Lord Palmerston acted sincerely on the opinion which he expressed in a short letter to Mr. Cobden that man is a fighting and quarreling animal. Assuming it to be the nature of man to fight and quarrel, he could see no better business for English statesmanship than to keep this country always in a condition to resist a possible attack from somebody. He differed almost radically on this point from two at least of his more important colleagues, Mr. Gladston and Mr. George Cornwall Lewis. Mr. Evelyn Ashley, in his Life of Lord Palmerston, has published some interesting letters that passed between Palmerston and these statesmen on this general subject. Palmerston wrote to Sir George Lewis on November 22, 1860, arguing against something Lewis had said, and which Palmerston hopes was only a conversational paradox and not a deliberately adopted theory. This was a dissent on the part of Lewis from the maxim, that in statesmanship prevention is better than cure. Each had clearly in his mind the prevention which would take security against the perils of war. Lord Palmerston therefore goes on at once in his letter to show that in many cases the timely adoption of spirited measures by an English government would have actually prevented war. Lewis argues that if an evil is certain and proximate and can be averted by diplomacy, then undoubtedly prevention is better than cure. But if the evil is remote and uncertain, then I think it better not to resort to preventive measures which ensure a proximate and certain mischief. The purpose of the discussion is made more clear in Lewis's concluding sentence. It seems to me that our foreign relations are on too vast a scale to render it wise for us to ensure systematically against all risks. And if we do not ensure systematically, we do nothing. On April 29, 1862, Lord Palmerston writes to Mr. Gladston about a speech that the latter had just been making in Manchester, and in which, as Lord Palmerston puts it, Mr. Gladston seems to make it a reproach to the nation at large, that it has forced, as you say it has, on the parliament and the government, the high amount of expenditure which we have at present to provide for. Palmerston does not quite agree with Mr. Gladston as to the fact. But admitting it to be as you state, it seems to me to be rather a proof of the superior sagacity of the nation than a subject for reproach. Lord Palmerston goes on to argue that the country, so far from having as Cobden had accused it of doing, rushed headlong into extravagance under the influence of panic, had simply awakened from a lethargy, got rid of an apathetic blindness on the part of the governed and the governors as to the defensive means of the country compared with the offensive means required and acquiring by other powers. We have on the other side of the channel a people who say what they may hate us as a nation from the bottom of their hearts, and would make any sacrifice to inflict a deep humiliation upon England. It is natural that this should be so. They are eminently vain, and their passion is glory in war. They cannot forget or forgive Abukir, Trafalgar, the peninsula, Waterloo, and St. Helena. Well then, at the head of this neighboring nation, who would like nothing so well as a retaliatory blow upon England, we see an able, active, wary, counsel-keeping but ever-planning sovereign, and we see this sovereign organizing an army which including his reserve is more than six times greater in amount than the whole of our regular forces in our two islands, and at the same time laboring hard to create a navy equal if not superior to ours. Give him a cause of quarrel which any foreign power may at any time invent or create, if so minded. Give him the command of the channel, which permanent or accidental naval superiority might afford him, and then calculate if you can, for it would pass my reckoning power to do so, the disastrous consequences to the British nation which a landing of an army of from one to two hundred thousand men would bring with it. Surely even a large yearly expenditure for army and navy is an economical insurance against such a catastrophe. The reader will perhaps be reminded of one of the most effective arguments of Demosthenes. Consider, he says, what even a few days of the occupation of the country by a foreign enemy would mean, and then say whether as a mere matter of economy it would not be better to spend a good deal of the resources we have in striving to avert such a calamity. There was a great difference, however, in the purpose and the application of the two arguments. Demosthenes puts the case in a way that is, from its point of view, perfect. He is speaking of a danger that lies at the gates of an enemy who must be encountered one way or another, and he is pleading for instant and offensive war. It is a very different thing to argue for enormous expenditure on the ground that somebody who is now professing the most peaceful intentions may possibly one day become your enemy and try to attack you. In such a case the first thing to be considered is whether the danger is real and likely to be imminent, or whether it is merely speculative. Even against speculative dangers a wise people will always take precautions, but it is no part of wisdom to spend in guarding against such perils as much as would be needed to enable us, actually, to speak with the enemy at the gate. It is a question of proportion and comparison. As Sir George Lewis argues, it is not possible for a nation like England to secure herself against all speculative dangers. France might invade us from Boulogne or Cherbourg, no doubt, but the United States might at the same time assail us in Canada. Russia might attack, as she once thought of doing, our Australian possessions, or make an onslaught upon us in Asia. Germany might be in alliance with Russia. Austria might at the same time be in alliance with France. These are all possibilities. They might all come to pass at one in the same time. But how could any state keep fleets and armies capable of ensuring her against serious peril from such a combination? It would be better to make up our minds, to wait until the assault really threatened, and then fight it out the best way we could. Lord Palmerston seemed to forget that in the campaign against Russia it did not prove easy for France to send out an army very much smaller than his one or two hundred thousand men, and that Louis Napoleon was glad to finish up prematurely his campaign in Lombardy, even though he had won in every battle. He had also made the mistake of assuming that all these military and naval insurances must ensure. If he had lived to 1870 he would have seen that a sovereign may engage himself for years in the preparing of an immense armament, that it may be the armament of a people eminently vain whose passion is glory and war, and yet that the armament may turn out a vast failure, and may prove it the hour of need of defense like Rodolmante's bridge in Ariosto, which only conducts its honor to ignominious upset and fall. All the resources of France were strained for years, and by one who could do as he pleased, for the single purpose of creating a great over-mastering army, and when the time came to test the army it proved to be little better than what Prince Bismarck called a crowd of fighting persons. This is surely a matter to be taken account of when we are thinking of going to vast annual expense for the purpose of maintaining a great armament. We may go to all the expense, and yet not have the armament when we fancy we have need of it. That, Lord Palmerston would doubtless have said, is a risk we must run. Mr. Gladstone and Sir George Lewis would no doubt have thought problematic invasion a risk more safe to run. That had been the view of Sir Robert Peale. Whatever may be thought of the merits of the argument on either side, and the decision will be made more often probably by temperament than by reasoning, the controversy will serve to illustrate the sort of difference that was gradually growing up between Lord Palmerston and some of his own colleagues. Lord Palmerston had of late fallen again into a policy of suspicion and distrust as regards France. We are convinced that he was perfectly sincere, and as has been said already in these pages we do not think there was any inconsistency in his conduct. He had for a long time believed in the good faith of the Emperor of the French, but the policy of the Lombardy campaign, and the consequent annexation of Savoyen Nice, had come to him as a complete surprise, and when he found that his friend Louis Napoleon could keep such secrets from him, he possibly came to the conclusion that he could keep others still more important. Lord Palmerston made England his idol. He loved her in a pagan way. He did not much care for abstract justice where she was concerned. He was unscrupulous where he believed her interests were to be guarded, nor had he any other than a purely pagan view of her interests. It did not seem to have occurred to him that England's truest interest would be to do justice to herself and to other states, to be what Voltaire's brahmin boasts of being a good parent and a faithful friend, maintaining well her own children and endeavoring for peace among her neighbors. Palmerston's idea was that England should hold the commanding place among European states, and that none should even seem to be in a position to do her scathe. End of Section 34. Section 35 of a History of Our Own Times, Vol. 3 by Justin McCarthy. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain, recording by Pamela Nagami. Chapter 45, Palmerston's Last Victory, Part 2. Lord Palmerston's taste for foreign affairs had now ample means of gratification. England had some small troubles of her own to deal with. A serious insurrection sprang up in New Zealand. The tribe of the Waikatos, living near Auckland in the Northern Island, began a movement against the colonists, and this became before long a general rebellion of the Māori natives. The Māoris are a remarkably intelligent race and are skillful in war as well as in peace. Not long before this, the Governor of the Colony, Sir George Gray, had written in the warmest praise of their industrial capabilities and their longing for mental improvement. They had a certain literary art among them. They could all, or nearly all, read and write. Many of them were eloquent and could display considerable diplomatic skill. They fought so well in this instance that the British troops actually suffered a somewhat serious repulse in endeavouring to take one of the Māori palisade of fortified villages. In the end, however, they were, of course, defeated. The quarrel was a survival of a long-standing dispute between the colonists and the natives about land. It was, in fact, the old story. The colonists, eager to increase their stock of land, and the natives jealous to guard their quickly vanishing possession. The events led to a grave discussion in Parliament. The Legislature of New Zealand passed enactments confiscating some nine million acres of the native lands and giving the colonial government something like absolute and arbitrary power of arrest and imprisonment. The government at home proposed to help the colonists by a guarantee to raise a loan of one million to cover the expenses of the war, or the colonial share of them, and this proposal was keenly discussed in the House of Commons. It was on this occasion that Mr. Robuck laid down a philosophical theory which gave a good deal of offence to sensitive people. The theory that where the brown man and the white meet, the brown man is destined to disappear. The doctrine is questionable enough even as a theory. No doubt the brown man is destined to disappear if the white man, with his better weapons and greater cleverness and resources, makes it his business to extirpate him. And it was justly pointed out that whatever Mr. Robuck may have personally meant by his theory, its inculcation at such a moment could only tend to strengthen this idea in the minds of some colonists who were already only too willing to entertain it. But until the brown man has had full fair play somewhere alongside of the white man, it is rash to come to any distinct conclusions as to his ultimate destiny. Mr. Robuck always loved theories neatly cut and sharpened. He gave them out with a precision which lent them an appearance of power and authority. They seemed to argue a mind that had swallowed formulas, as Mr. Carlisle puts it, and was above the can't of humanitarianism. But such theories are more satisfactorily broached and discussed in scientific societies than in parliamentary debate. The ultimate destiny of the brown man did not particularly help the House of Commons to any conclusions concerning the New Zealand insurrection, because even Mr. Robuck did not put forward his theory as an argument to prove that in every controversy we are bound to take the side of the white man and assist him in his predestined business of extinguishing his brown rival. The government passed their guarantee bill, not without many a protest from both sides of the House, that colonists who readily engaged in quarrels with natives must sometime or other be prepared to bear the expenses entailed by their own policy. Trouble two arose on the Gold Coast of Africa. Some slaves of the King of Ashanti had taken refuge in British territory. The Governor of Cape Coast Colony would not give them up, and in the spring of 1863 the King made threatening demonstrations, invading the territories of neighboring chiefs, destroying many of their villages, and approaching within 40 miles of our frontier. The Governor assuming that the settlement was about to be invaded by the Ashantis took it upon him to anticipate the movement by sending out an expedition into the territory of the King. He ordered troops to be moved for the purpose. The season was badly chosen. The climate was pestilential. Even the Black troops from the West Indies could not endure it and began to die like flies. The ill-advised undertaking had to be given up, and the government at home only escaped a vote of censure by a narrow majority of seven. Two hundred and twenty-six members supported Sir John Hayes' resolution declaring that the movement was rash and impolitic, and two hundred and thirty-three sustained the action of the government. Much discussion, too, was aroused by the occurrences in Japan. A British subject, Mr. Richardson, was murdered in the English settlement of Japan, and on an open road made free to Englishmen by treaty. This was in September, 1862. The murder was committed by some of the followers of Prince Satsuma, one of the powerful feudal princes who then practically divided the authority of Japan with the regular government. Reparation was demanded both from the Japanese government and from Prince Satsuma. The government paid the sum demanded of them, one hundred thousand pounds, and made an apology. Prince Satsuma was called on to pay twenty-five thousand pounds, and to see that the murderers were brought to punishment, the crime having been committed within his jurisdiction. Satsuma did nothing, and in 1863 Colonel Neil, the English Charger d'affaires in Japan, called upon Admiral Cooper to go with the English fleet to Kagoshima, Satsuma's capital, and demand satisfaction. Admiral Cooper entered the bay on August 11, 1863, and after waiting for a day or two proceeded to seize on some steamers. The Kagoshima forts opened fire on him, and he then bombarded the town and laid the greater portion of it in ashes. The town it seemed was built for the most part of wood. It caught fire in the bombardment and was destroyed. Fortunately the non-combatant inhabitants, the women and children, had had time to get out of Kagoshima and the destruction of life was not great. The whole transaction was severely condemned by many Englishmen who did not belong to the ranks of those professed philanthropists, whom it is sometimes the fashion to denounce in England as if humanity and patriotism were irreconcilable qualities, and as if a true Englishman ought to have no consideration for the sufferings and the blood of Japanese and Maori's and people of that sort. The House of Commons however sustained the government by a large majority. The government it should be said did not profess to justify the destruction of Kagoshima. Their case was that Admiral Cooper had to do something, and that there was nothing he could very well do when he had been fired upon, but to bombard the town, and that the burning of the town was an accident of the conflict for which neither he nor they could be held responsible. Satsuma finally submitted and paid the money and promised justice. But there were more murders and more bombardings yet, before we came to anything like an abiding settlement with Japan. And Japan itself was not far off a revolution, the most sudden, organic, and to all appearance complete, that has ever yet been seen in the history of nations. In the meantime however our government became involved in liabilities more perilous than any disputes in eastern or southern islands could bring on them. An insurrection of a very serious kind broke out in Poland. It was provoked by the strafford-like thoroughness of the policy adopted by the Russian authorities. It was well known to the Russian government that a secret political agitation was going on in Poland. And it was determined to anticipate matters and choke off the patriotic movement by taking advantage of the periodical conscription to press into military ranks all the young men in the cities who could by any possibility be supposed to have any sympathy with it. The attempt to execute this resolve was the occasion for the outbreak of an insurrection which at one time showed something like a claim to success. The young men who could escape fled to the woods and there formed themselves into armed bands which gave the Russians great trouble. The rebels could disperse and come together with such ease and rapidity that it was very difficult indeed to get any real advantage over them. The frontier of Austria and Poland was very near and the insurgents could cross it, escape from the Russian troops, and recross it when they pleased to resume their harassing operations. Austria was not by any means so unfriendly to the Polish patriots as both Russia and Prussia were. Austria had come unwillingly into the scheme for the partition of Poland and had got little profit by it and it was well understood that if the other powers concerned could see their way to the restoration of Polish nationality Austria for her part would make no objection. The insurgents counted with some confidence on the passive attitude of the Austrian authorities and the positive sympathy of many officers and soldiers in the Austrian army. They converted the Austrian frontier for a while into a military basis of operations against Russia. To some extent the same thing was attempted on the Prussian frontier too, but Prussia was still very much under the dominion of Russia and was prevailed upon or coerced to execute an odious convention with Russia by virtue of which the Russian troops were allowed to follow Polish insurgents into Prussian territory. This convention created a strong feeling against Prussia through the whole of Western Europe and for a while made her much more an object of general dislike than even Russia herself. It was plain from the first that the Poles could not under the most favorable circumstances hold out long against Russia by virtue of their own strength. It was evident that wherever the insurrection could be gotten to a corner Russia could crush it with ease. Nevertheless the plans of the Poles were not so imprudent as they seemed. On the contrary they had a certain chance of success. The idea whether clearly or definitely expressed or not was to keep the insurrection up by any means and at any risk until some of the great European powers should be induced to interfere. The insurrection was a great drama, a piece of deliberate stage play. We do not say this in any spirit of disparagement. The stage play was got up by patriots with a true and noble purpose and it was the only statesman like policy left to the Poles. Let us keep it up long enough. Such was the conviction of the Polish leaders and Western Europe must intervene. Despite the lesson of subsequent events the Poles were well justified in their political calculations. Their hopes were at one time on the very eve of being realized. The Emperor Napoleon was eager to move to their aid and Lord Russell was hardly less eager. The Polish cause was very popular in England. It had been the political first love of many a man who now felt his youthful ardor glow again as he read of the gallant struggle made in the forests of Poland. Russia was hated, Prussia was now hated even more. There was no question of party feeling about the sympathy with Poland. There were about as many conservatives as radicals who were ready to favor the idea of some effort being made on her behalf. Lord Ellenbara spoke up for Poland in the House of Lords with poetic and impassioned eloquence. Lord Shaftesbury from the opposite benches denounced the conduct of Russia. The Irish Catholic was as ardent for Polish liberty as the London Artisan. Among its most conspicuous and energetic advocates in England was Mr Pope Hennessy, a Catholic and Irish Member of Parliament, and Mr Edmund Beals, the leader of a great radical organization in London. The question was raised in Parliament by Mr Hennessy and aroused much sympathy there. Great public meetings were held at which Russia was denounced and Poland advocated not merely by popular orators but by men of high rank and grave responsibility. War was not openly called for at these meetings or in the House of Commons, but it was urged that England, as one of the powers which had signed the Treaty of Vienna, should join with other states in summoning Russia to recognize the rights such as they were, which had been secured to Poland by virtue of that treaty. In France, the greatest enthusiasm prevailed for the cause of Poland, the eloquent pen of Montalemberg pleaded for the nation in morning. Prince Napoleon spoke with singular eloquence and impressiveness in the French Senate on the justice and necessity of intervention. The same cause was pleaded by Count Wolewski, himself the son of a Polish lady. The Emperor Napoleon required little pressing. He was ready to intervene if he could get England to join him. Lord Russell went so far as to draw up and dispatch to Russia in concert with France and Austria a note on the subject of Poland. It urged on the attention of the Russian government six points as the outline of a system of pacification for Poland. These were a complete amnesty, a national representation, a distinct national administration of Poles for the Kingdom of Poland, full liberty of conscience with the repeal of all the restrictions imposed on Catholic worship, the recognition of the Polish language as official, the establishment of a regular system of recruiting. There was an almost universal impression at one moment that in the event of Russia declining to accept these recommendations, England, Austria, and France would make war to compel her. There was hardly any party in England absolutely opposed to the idea of intervention except the Manchester School of Radicals. Some of these were consistently opposed to intervention in any foreign cause, whatever. Others had an added impression that Poland had managed her national affairs very badly when she had a chance of managing them for herself and that therefore there was little use in trying to set her on her feet again. Such opposition would however have counted for even less than it did at the time of the Crimean War if the government had resolved on going in with France and striking a blow for Poland. End of Section 35 Section 36 of a history of our own times, Volume 3 by Justin McCarthy. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain, recording by Pamela Nagami. Chapter 45. Palmerston's Last Victory. Part 3 Looking back now calmly on the events of that day and those which followed them, it does not seem that such a policy would have been unwise. There was much in the claims of Poland which deserved the sympathy of every lover of liberty and believer in the development of civilization. If this were the time or place for such a discussion it would not be difficult to show that the faults found with Poland's old system of government had nothing to do with the condition of the present, and that a new Poland would no more be likely to fall into the errors of the past than a new Irish parliament would be likely to refuse the right of representation to Catholics. There would assuredly have been a distinct advantage to the stability of European affairs in the resuscitation of Poland as a distinct and independent part of the Russian state system, even if she were not to be a wholly independent nation once again. This probably could not have been done without war, but it seems more than merely probable that that war would have averted the necessity of many other wars which have since been fought out with less profitable result to European stability. Whether the English alarms about the aggressive designs of Russia be founded or unfounded, the legislative independence of Poland would have made it superfluous to take much thought concerning them. The new Poland would undoubtedly have been a state with representative institutions and set in the midst of Russia and of Prussia her example could hardly have been without a contagious influence of a very salutary kind on each. It soon became known, however, that there was to be no intervention. Lord Palmerston put a stop to the whole idea. It was not that he sympathized with Russia. On the contrary, he wrote a letter to Baron Brunau, the Russian ambassador, on February 4, 1863, in which he bluntly told him that he regarded the Polish insurrection as the just punishment inflicted by heaven on Russia for Russia's having done so much to stir up revolution in the dominions of some of her neighbors. But Lord Palmerston had by this time grown into as profound a distrust of the Emperor Napoleon as any representative of the Social and Democratic Republic could possibly entertain. He was convinced that the Emperor was stirring in the matter chiefly with the hope of getting an opportunity of establishing himself in the Rhine provinces of Prussia on the pretext of compelling Prussia to remain neutral in the struggle or of punishing her if she took the side of Russia. Probably Lord Palmerston was mistaken in this instance. It is not likely that Louis Napoleon ever cared for any war project or annexation scheme except with the view of making his dynasty popular in France, and he may well have thought that the emancipation of Poland would gain him popularity enough to enable him to dispense with other contrivances for the remainder of his reign. However that may be, Lord Palmerston was firm. He described a proposal of the Emperor for an identical note to be addressed to Prussia on the subject of the Convention with Russia as a trap lay for England to fall into, and he would have nothing to do with it. After a while it became known that England had decided not to join in any project for armed intervention, and from that moment Russia became merely contemptuous. The Emperor of the French would not and could not take action single-handed, and Prince Gorchikov politely told Lord Russell that England had really better mind her own business and not encourage movements in Poland which were simply the work of cosmopolitan revolution. Lord Russell had spoken of the responsibility which the Emperor of Russia was incurring, and Prince Gorchikov dryly replied that the Emperor knew all about that and was quite prepared to accept any responsibility. It used to be said at the time that Prince Gorchikov gently intimated in diplomatic conversation that if the English government were inclined to occupy themselves in redressing the grievances of injured nationalities they would find in Ireland a legitimate and sufficient object for the exercise of their reforming energies. It is certain that England received a snub, and that Prince Gorchikov intended his reply to be thus accepted by England and thus interpreted by Europe. After this, Austria found it necessary to secure her frontier line more carefully and not allow it to be made any longer a basis of operations against Russia. The insurrection was flung wholly on its own resources. It was kept up gallantly and desperately for a time, but the end was certain. The Russians carried out their measures of pacification with unflinching hand. Flockings and shootings and hangings were in full vigor. The Russian authorities recognized the equal rights of women by administering the scourge and the rope and the bullet to them as well as to men. Drowes of prisoners were sent to Siberia. New steps were taken for denationalizing the country and effecting its moral as well as physical subjugation. After a time the words of Marshal Sebastiani's famous announcement in 1831 became applicable once more and order reigned in Warsaw. The intervention of England had done much of the same service for Poland, that the interposition of Don Quixote did for the boy whose master was flogging him. There was to be sure a certain difference in the conditions. Don Quixote did intervene practically, and while he remained in sight, the master pretended to be forgiving and merciful. It was only when the hero had written away that the master grimly tied up the boy again and flogged him worse than ever. In the case of England there was no such show of forbearance. The sufferer was tied up under our very eyes and scourged again and more fiercely for the express reason that England had ventured to interfere with an unmeaning and ineffectual remonstrance. We have spoken of that school of liberals who would not have intervened at all on behalf of Poland or any other nation. Many perhaps most persons will refuse to accept their principle, but we can hardly believe there is anyone who will not admit that such a course of policy is wise, manly, and dignified when compared with that which intrudes its intervention just far enough to irritate the oppressor and not far enough to be of the slightest benefit to the oppressed. The effect of the policy pursued by England in this case was to bring about a certain coldness between the Emperor Napoleon and the English government. This fact was made apparent some little time after when the dispute between Denmark and the Germanic Confederation came up in relation to the Schleswig-Holstein succession. We need not go very deeply now into the historical bearings of this dispute, which long tormented philologists, jurist-consults and archaeologists as well as statesmen, and a reverent Frenchman once declared that the heavens and the earth shall pass away, but the Schleswig-Holstein question shall not pass away. Practically, however, the Schleswig-Holstein question would seem to have passed away so far as our times are concerned. It was in substance a question of the right of nationalities combined of later years with a dispute of succession. Schleswig-Holstein and Lauenburg were Dutchies attached to Denmark. Holstein and Lauenburg were purely German in nationality and only held by the King of Denmark as Duke of Holstein and Lauenburg, on much the same tenure as that by virtue of which our King so long held handover. The King of Denmark sat as Duke of Holstein and Lauenburg in the old Germanic diet, which used to hold its meetings in Frankfurt, the diet of the Germanic Confederation, which was abolished by the Prussian victory at Sadova, and which Tallerand, once with grave sarcasm, urged not to be precipitated in its decisions. Schleswig was attached more directly to the Danish crown, but a large proportion of the population, much the larger proportion in the southern districts, were German, and there had long been an agitation going on in Germany about the claims and the rights of Schleswig. One of the claims was that Schleswig and Holstein should be united into one administrative system and should be governed independently of the Kingdom of Denmark, the King of Denmark to be the ruler of this state, as the Emperor of Austria is King of Hungary. There can be no doubt that the heart of the German people was deeply interested in the condition of the Schleswigers and Holsteiners. It was only natural that a great people should have been unwilling to see so many of their countrymen on the very edge of Germany itself, kept under the rule of the Danish King. The tendency of Denmark always was toward an amalgamation of the Dutchies into her own state system. The tendency of the Germans was to regard with extreme jealousy any movement that way, to describe evil purpose and even harmless innovations on the part of Denmark, and to make constant complaint about the tampering of the Danish authorities with the tongue and the rights of the Teutonic populations. In truth, the claims of Germany and Denmark were irreconcilable. Put into plain words the dispute was between Denmark, which wanted to make the Dutchies Danish, and Germany which wanted to have them German. The arrangement which bound them up with Denmark was purely diplomatic and artificial. Anyone who would look realities in the face must have seen that some day or other the Germans would carry their point, and the principle of nationalities would have its way in that case as it had done in so many others. Suddenly the whole dispute became complicated with a question of succession. The King of Denmark, Frederick VII, died in November 1863, and was succeeded by Christian IX. Prince Frederick of Schleswig, Holstein, Sonderburg, Augustenburg claimed the succession to the Dutchies of Schleswig and Holstein. The late King of Denmark had no direct heir to succeed him, and the succession had been arranged in 1852 by the great powers of Europe. The Treaty of London then settled it on Prince Christian of Schleswig-Holstein-Sonderberg-Gluxburg, the father of the Princess of Wales. The settlement, however, was brought about by persuading the Duke of Augustenburg, Prince Frederick's father, heir of Holstein and claimant of Schleswig, to renounce his rights. And now Prince Frederick, the son, disputed in his own case the validity of the renunciation. The previous pretensions of Denmark to encroach on the rights of the German populations in the Dutchies had roused an angry feeling in Germany, and German statesmen were willing to take advantage of any claim and any claimant to dispute the succession of the King of Denmark so far as the Dutchies were concerned. The affairs of pressure were now in the hands of a strong man, one of the strongest men modern times have known. Daring, unscrupulous, and crafty as Kevur, von Bismarck was even already able to wield a power which had never been within Kevur's reach. The public intelligence of Europe had not yet recognized the marvelous combination of qualities which was destined to make their owner famous and to prove a dissolving force in the settled systems of Germany and indeed of the whole European continent. As yet the general opinion of the world set down here von Bismarck has simply a fanatical reactionary, a coarse sort of metternich, a combination of bully and buffoon. The Schleswig-Holstein question became, however, a very serious one for Denmark when it was taken up by von Bismarck. There does not seem the slightest reason to suppose that Bismarck ever had any idea of maintaining the pretensions of the Prince of Augustenburg. Bismarck had always ridiculed them without any affectation of concealment. From first to last the mind of Bismarck was evidently made up that the Dutchies should be annexed to Prussia. But for the time the claims of the Augustenburg Prince came in conveniently and Prussia put on the appearance of giving them her sanction and support. The result of all this was that the Germanic diet and the King of Denmark could not come to any terms of arrangement and to cut preliminary short and get to what strictly concerns our history war became certain. The Germanic diet entrusted the conduct of the war to the hands of Austria and Prussia who entered into joint agreements for the purpose. The German troops entered first Holstein, which under the command of the diet they had a legal right to do, and then Schleswig and war began. Denmark, one of the smallest and weakest kingdoms in the world, found herself engaged in conflict with Austria and Prussia combined. The little Danish David had defied two goliaths to combat at one moment. Were the Danes and their sovereign in their government mad? Not at all. They well knew that they could not hold out alone against the two German great powers, but they counted on the help of Europe, especially they counted on the help of England. For a long time they had got it into their heads that England was pledged to defend them against any assault from the side of Germany. Lord Russell in multitudinous dispatches had very often, given the Danish government, sound and sensible advice. He had constantly admonished them that they must, for their own sakes, deal fairly with the German populations. He had urgently recommended them to leave to the Germans and the German governments no fair ground for complaint. He had never countenanced or encouraged any of the acts which tended to the enforced absorption of German populations into a Danish system. He had, on the contrary, more than once somewhat harshly rebuked the Danish government for neglect or breach of engagements, and sternly pointed out the certain consequences of such a policy. But he had at the same time implied that if Denmark took the advice of England, England would not see her wronged. He had at all events declared that if Denmark did not follow England's advice, England would not come to her assistance in case she were attacked by the Germans. Denmark interpreted this as an assurance that if she followed England's councils, she might count on England's protection, and she insisted that she had strictly followed England's councils for this very reason. When the struggle seemed approaching, Lord Palmerston said some words in the House of Commons at the close of a session, which seemed to convey a distinct assurance that England would defend Denmark in case she should be attacked by the German powers. On July 23, 1863, he was questioned with reference to the course England intended to pursue in the event of the German powers pressing too hardly on Denmark, and he then said, We are convinced, I am convinced at least, that if any violent attempt were made to overthrow the rights and interfere with the independence of Denmark, those who made the attempt would find in the result that it would not be Denmark alone with which they have to contend. These words were afterwards explained as intended to be merely prophetic, and to indicate Lord Palmerston's private belief that in the event of Denmark being invaded, France or Russia or some state somewhere, would probably be generous enough to come to the assistance of the Danes. But when the words were spoken, it did not occur to the mind of anyone to interpret them in such a sense. The part of Lord Palmerston's speech which contained them was dealing distinctly and exclusively with the policy of England. It was not supposed that an English minister could expect to satisfy the House of Commons by merely giving a specimen of his skill in forecasting the probable policy of other states. Everyone believed that Lord Palmerston was answering on behalf of the English government and the English people. The Danes counted with confidence on the help of England. They refused to accept the terms which Germany would have imposed. They prepared for war. Public opinion in England was all but unanimous in favour of Denmark. Five out of every six persons were for England's drawing the sword in her cause at once. Five out of every six of the small minority who were against the war were nevertheless in sympathy with the Danes. Many reasons combined to bring about this condition of national feeling. In the first instance, very few people knew anything whatever of the merits of the controversy. Even professed politicians hardly understood the question. The general impression was that it was purely the case of two strong powers oppressing in wanton and wicked combination a weak but gallant people. Austria was not popular in England. Prussia was detested. Many Englishmen were angry with her because her government had made the convention with Russia which has already been mentioned, and because she had a reactionary minister and a half despotic king. A large number of persons did not like the Germans they met in the city and in business generally. Some had disagreeable reminiscences of their travels in Prussia and had been unfavourably impressed by the police systems of Berlin. Moreover, it was then an article of faith with most Englishmen that Prussians were miserable fellows who could only smoke and drink beer and who, being unable to fight with any decent adversary, were trying to get a war-like reputation by attacking a very weak power. Punch had a cartoon representing the conventional English soldier and sailor regarding with looks of utter contempt and Austrian and oppression, and agreeing that Englishmen ought not to be called on to fight such fellows, but offering to kick them if it were thought desirable. In England at this time, military strength meant the army of the Emperor of the French and political sagacity was represented by the wisdom of the same sovereign. A certain small number of persons in England sympathised with Denmark for another reason. The Prince of Wales had been married to the Princess Alexandra on March 10, 1863. The Princess Alexandra was, as has been already said, the daughter of the King of Denmark. She was not a Dane, except as we may, if we like, call the Emperor of Brazil a Brazilian. But her family had now come to rule in Denmark, and she became in that sense a Danish Princess. Her youth, her beauty, her goodness, her sweet and winning ways, had made her more popular than any foreign Princess ever before was known to be in England. It seemed even to some who ought to have had more judgment that the virtues and charms of the Princess Alexandra, and the fact that she was now Princess of Wales, supplied ample proof of the justice of the Danish cause, and of the duty of England to support it in arms. Not small, therefore, was the disappointment spread over the country when it was found that the Danes were left alone to their defense, and that England was not to put out a hand to help them.