Chapter XV (3)

It is a not less remarkable feature of the times that in politics also all England now is nearly of one mind. We say “nearly,” for there is one class which is an exception, and the existence of which has an important influence upon the relative composition of the two great parties in the State. But, unquestionably, the great bulk of the nation is now of one mind in regard to political questions. In a country like England this is a truly remarkable condition of affairs, and suggestive of but one inference. Homogeneous nations under a centralised form of government—as in France—may readily conceive a universal passion for change, the nation acting together in its wisdom or madness like one man. But the case is very different in this country. The United Kingdom is an aggregate of the most opposite forces—it is full of conflicting interests, each intrenched in some vigorous organisation, whether of aristocracy, church, commerce, corporations, leagues, or companies. In such circumstances, a universal agreement of opinion in favour of altering a single part of our constitution, either in Church or State, would be an event little short of a miracle. Unanimity of political feeling in England, therefore, cannot possibly signify anything else than political contentment—the wish to rest and enjoy, satisfaction with the form and machinery of the Constitution, and a desire only to see the machinery of Government ably and honestly worked. And what else is this than Conservatism? It is Conservatism adopted by the whole nation. It is a mistake to attribute this universal Conservatism to the breakdown of democratic institutions in America. The “Conservative reaction,” to adopt the common but exceptionable phrase, had unmistakably manifested itself before a single shot had been fired in America—before the bloodless bombardment of Fort Sumter announced the approach of that deplorable conflict which has served to expose democracy in its worst and most contemptible form, and to reveal, in the bosom of republican America, a mass of corruption, imbecility, meanness, and malignity which, taken together, have never been equalled in the whole world. But if a Conservative feeling had been steadily growing up in England before the “bursting of the American bubble,” it is equally true that that great collapse of democracy has done much to give to that feeling its present universality. Abstract reasoning cannot affect mankind with the same force as actual experiment and practical demonstration. Every sensible man in this country now acknowledges—what nearly all sensible men for some years past felt, but lacked the courage to say—that we have already gone as far towards democracy as it is safe to go, and that another step like that proposed by Lord Russell would have carried us irretrievably over the precipice. This is the great moral benefit which we have derived from the events in America. The vast superiority of our mixed Constitution is now so demonstrated, that every man may now say what he thinks publicly and without reserve. Even men who have been all their lives supporters of the “Liberal” party—men who, up to the last moment, were in favour of a farther degradation of the franchise—now see the folly of their course, and, moreover, have an excuse for avowing their change of opinion. Hence it is that England is now all of one mind. And what is that, we repeat, but that all England is Conservative, and that the Liberal party in office is an anachronism?

There might be some excuse for this anomalous position of affairs, if the Liberal Ministry ever professed to believe that Liberal principles are still popular. But they do not—they cannot. After nearly ten years of selfish and most reckless trafficking in Reform Bills, Lord Russell himself repudiated his own work. He abandoned it in the same spirit of selfishness as he took it up. It was in the hope of reviving his faded popularity that he first proposed a further Reform Bill in the end of 1851; and, backed by a party as insincere as himself, he kept playing off his precious Bill, year after year, as a convenient party manœuvre against his Conservative rivals. But no sooner, when reinstated in office, did he and his colleagues find that they were about to be “hoist with their own petard,” than the Bill was shelved. Reform was not only abandoned, but treated with contempt by the Whig occupants of the Treasury Bench; and the Minister who had once shed tears when forced by his colleagues to postpone his Bill, at length, on the 5th of February 1861, not only buried Reform, but, like a wild Irishman, danced upon its grave! In their projects of ecclesiastical innovation, the members of the present Ministry have been equally defeated. When baffled in their attacks upon the State, they still thought it was a popular thing to assault the Church. In this also they have at length been undeceived: and now what have they left to do? They have not a single card left to play. Their whole list of measures, after having been deliberately considered by the nation, has been condemned and rejected with contempt. Like the Federal generals at Fredericksburg, they have tried attack after attack upon every part of their rivals’ position, and with every man they could muster, only to see every attack fail, and recoil in ruinous loss upon themselves. The Federal general, when condemned to inaction and menaced by a superior force, wisely abandoned his ground, and put a river between himself and his foe. It is time the Whig Ministry should execute a similar “strategic movement,” if they do not wish to fare worse than General Burnside, and be kicked across the Rappahannock, instead of avoiding a catastrophe by a timely retreat.

We have said that there is one exception to the unanimity of political feeling which now pervades this country, and that exception, we need hardly say, is the party of Radicals whose mouthpiece is Mr Bright. We can no longer call this the “Manchester” party; for, whatever may have been their sentiments hitherto, we have reason to believe that the views of Mr Bright are now repudiated by the greater part even of our manufacturing classes. But Mr Bright is incurable. All his life he has been a man of one idea, and one-ideaed he must be to the end. There must always be men of this kind. We must lay our account to have Radicals. Like the poor, they are always with us. And they are not without use in their way. This is a free country, and a few eloquent or blustering Radicals serve to “let off the steam” of their class, and serve to remind the sober-minded portion of the community what a very mad and drunken thing Radicalism is. Mr Bright and his followers may hold a place in political England as usefully as the drunken Helots did in the social usages of Sparta. But though we have no great zeal for the conversion of this Abbot of Unreason and his motley followers, we think the country will agree with us that they ought not to be taken by the hand by those in high places, and allowed to play their pranks in the government of the country. Yet this is just what must happen in the present anomalous position of parties. The country has no objection to hear Mr Bright speak on any subject and in any way he likes, either in or out of Parliament; but it cannot regard with indifference a position of affairs which makes his support indispensable to the existence of a Ministry. The Tories are not only the strongest party in Parliament, but now equal in number the Whigs and Radicals put together. By a slow and steady growth the Conservative party is regaining the predominant position which it held from 1842 to 1847, when a question, not of constitutional but of commercial policy, so lamentably disrupted its power. Now, as in 1841, the Whig Ministry is at its mercy, and is only spared for the sake of the gallant old statesman who heads the motley crew, and is worth all the others put together.

We see nothing surprising in this recovery of the Conservative party. The only surprising thing would have been if it had not taken place. It is not necessary, nor would it be correct, to attribute the recovery to any extraordinary generalship on the part of its leaders. In the five years which followed the Reform Bill, the Conservative party made almost as great a rally as they have done in the fifteen years which followed the split on the Corn-laws; and yet that split was not on a constitutional question, and the Conservative section which left the main body might have remained as good Conservatives as ever. The Conservative “reaction,” now in progress, and nearly accomplished, has been slow and tardy, but it promises unmistakably to be proportionately enduring. In the opinion of all, the work of Constitutional Reform has been carried as far as it is wise to carry it; and in the opinion of all, the Whig Ministers who, for a dozen years, have been urging us towards further innovations both in Church and State, have proved themselves to be unsafe leaders. As the sole means of retaining office, the Whigs now repudiate their old measures and principles—everything that was peculiar to them—and act the part of unwilling Conservatives. Now in regard to constitutional questions—which are the grand tests of difference between Whig and Tory—there is a notable difference between a change of opinion on the part of a Liberal and of a Conservative. The greatest and not least illusory boast of the Liberals hitherto has been, that all their distinctive measures have been carried in the end, and have been accepted by the Conservatives themselves; and, therefore, that the Conservatives have always been in the wrong, and the Whigs in the right. Such a boast, partially fallacious as to facts, is totally illusory in its logic, for it is to be observed that, as the capacity of the people for self-government is always increasing with the increase of wealth and intelligence, it may be that the Conservatives were right when they opposed a particular change, and right also when subsequently they adopted or acquiesced in it. But with the Liberals this is impossible. If Lord Russell’s Reform Bill was bad and worthy only of contempt in 1861, it must have been still more mistimed and worthy of all condemnation in 1851, when he first announced it. The same is true of the Ballot question and the other proposed innovations upon the Constitution. Thus one of two things must follow. Either the Whig Ministers were right and the whole country is wrong; or else, a more probable supposition, the country is right and the Whigs were wrong. If we accept the first alternative, what are we to think of Ministers who repudiate what they believe to be right for the sake of retaining office, and act the part of Conservatives when believing that the welfare of the country calls for “sweeping reforms?” If we accept the other alternative, can we, on a review of the last ten years, imagine a deeper depth of degradation than that to which Liberalism and its chiefs have now sunk? for while Liberalism has proved itself a perilous absurdity, its chiefs have not only endorsed that judgment, but have gleefully repudiated their old professions for the sake of postponing their fall from office.

In truth, the greatest retarding obstacle to the triumph of the Conservative party is the completeness of the triumph achieved by their opinions. Conservatism is now so universally the feeling of the nation, that there is no room for rivalry. Although the Liberals are in office, they know that their creed is now an absurdity—that the measures which they have so long vaunted and ventilated would now be scoffed out of the House, and held up to public ridicule in ‘Punch’ and the ‘Times.’ They feel that it is vain to contend against the Conservative feeling of the nation, and therefore they fall in with it. Their best defence, their best plea for being allowed to retain office, is based on the very fact that the triumph of their rivals’ principles is now too complete to be gainsaid. “It does not matter who is in office,” say the Ministerial apologists; “the country is all of one mind, and the policy of the Government must be the same whether Whig or Tory be in office.” They forget to complete the exposition by saying that that policy must be Conservative! Able and willing to eject the party of innovation from Downing Street, the Conservatives are naturally somewhat embarrassed to find the premises occupied by a set of men professing Conservatism. If Liberalism and Conservatism were to come into conflict, Liberalism would instantly go to the wall, and the Ministry be expelled by an overwhelming majority. But the quondam Liberals think of nothing so much as eschewing Liberalism: they will have nothing to do with it; they will back it no longer; they will not even name it lest they give occasion for a challenge!

Even supposing the quondam Liberals now in office were sincerely convinced of the folly of the measures which they so long supported, but which the country so emphatically rejected, they cannot be good Conservatives if they wished it. For to retain office they must propitiate the Bright party. They must throw them crumbs occasionally, smuggle little Radical clauses into otherwise good bills, and go into the same lobby with them on all questions which do not endanger their existence as a Ministry. This is a most irritating, vexatious, and contemptible game, and would justify the country in cutting it short by a vote of want of confidence. The Ministry now forswear all the Liberal measures as Government questions, but they support them with their votes and influence. They retain office in the character of Conservatives, but they give all the influence of office in favour of Liberalism. Such a system cannot last long.

A Cabinet so ignominiously circumstanced has not often been seen. Defeated again and again—impotent to propose a single measure of practical value—their only skill is shown in the way in which they evade a decisive trial of strength with the Opposition. And in the constituencies their only hope lies in the longevity of their supporters. For every two Whig or Radical seats that become vacant, a Conservative is sure to get one of them—still further swelling the triumphant phalanx of the Opposition. The leading journal itself now scoffs at the whole programme of Liberalism. When alluding to the programme of the Ministerial candidate for Southampton—namely, “Extension of the franchise, the Ballot, abolition of Church-rates, and progressive political and ecclesiastical reform”—the ‘Times’ rightly calls it “dreary old stuff,” and adds:—“There is not in the programme either a sentiment to raise the soul from the street mud, or a measure which can be said to be really before the British public. As a political statement it is at once hazy and pedestrian, unpractical and unideal. No reasonable being expects that either the franchise will be extended, or the Ballot introduced, or Church-rates abolished, unless it be by some compromise; or that there will be any very remarkable reforms, either in Church or State, for many a day.” And the same journal now claims for the Premier as his highest credit that he has “no principles!” As the ‘Times’ aims above all things to express public opinion, these are remarkable words, and show what a defunct, petrified, and wholly antediluvian thing Liberalism has become. We use the word Liberalism, of course, in its accepted sense, as equivalent to the opinions and measures of the party which has called itself “Liberal,” though with no special claim to the title—in fact, with less real claim than the Conservatives have; for the liberalism of the Liberals has been all in the air, and is now (happily for the country) nowhere; whereas the liberalism of the Conservatives, if of a more homely, is of a more genuine and practical kind, which pervades the whole scope alike of their measures and of their policy. To be truly liberal is a very different thing from being simply innovating; and although the bastard liberalism of the Whigs and Radicals is now justly discredited, we need not shrink from taking credit for the genuine and practical liberality which has characterised the administration of recent Conservative Governments. As regards administrative ability, the statesmen of the Conservative party can still more unquestionably claim a superiority over their rivals. One of the bitterest antagonists of Conservative principles lately admitted that Lord Derby’s last Cabinet was the most efficient Administration he had ever known; and every one who contrasts the activity and wise legislation of that Cabinet, in all its departments, with the “wasted sessions” which have marked the career of the present Ministry, cannot fail to endorse that opinion. Nor must we forget the immense negative as well as positive benefits which the country owes to the Conservative party. At a time like the present, when it is evident that the Conservatives are again about to be raised to power, with a fair prospect of a long term of office, it is right to remember what they accomplished as a party in the “cold shade” of the Opposition benches. Ever since the short-lived Administration of Sir R. Peel and the Duke of Wellington in 1835, the Conservatives have been able to foil the attacks of their antagonists upon the Constitution, both in Church and State. At that time the Appropriation Bill received at their hands its quietus, despite the shameful compact between the Whigs and the O’Connell party; and we can now name half-a-dozen measures inimical to the Constitution which have recently been resisted with equal success, despite a similar degrading compact between the Whigs and the Radical followers of Mr Bright. One has only to look back upon the last thirty years, and contrast the prospects of the country then with its condition now, to see how remarkable have been the achievements and how valuable the services rendered to the country by the Conservative party. As Sir Stafford Northcote well said when recently addressing the Conservatives of South Devon:—

“To the Conservative party the country is indebted for the fact that
we have now a constitutional and ancient monarchy, and that we do not
live either under a republic or a despotism; that we have a House of
Lords respected and independent; that we have a House of Commons such
as he would not say was ideally perfect, but such as fairly
represented all classes; that we have a pure and Established
Protestant Church, which is at once established and regulated by law,
and yet is not a slave or tool of the State; besides other blessings
which he need not enumerate. All this they owed to the gallant stand
made by the Conservative party, and to the way in which their
exertions had been backed up by the people throughout the length and
breadth of the land.”

The sole prestige of the present Cabinet centres in the Premier. In the estimation of the country, Lord Palmerston is the Government. Ministerial candidates swear by no one else. Lord Russell is already becoming a name of the past, and in practical administration has proved himself the greatest blunderer of his day. As regards Mr Gladstone, the country has got sick of his clever and risky budgets, and sighs for a plain business-like balancing of income and expenditure, accompanied by as much economy as can be effected without impairing the efficiency of our national establishments. But Lord Palmerston, with fourscore years on his shoulders, has now a greater reputation than he ever had, or than is accorded to any of his contemporaries. England loves old statesmen. No Minister in these days need expect to acquire the confidence of the country under sixty, but, if he avoid any great failure, every year after that may be expected to add to his reputation. It is an additional sign of the times that the only popular statesman in the present Cabinet is an old Tory—one who grew up in the Toryism of Pitt, and for a dozen years was initiated in the management of war and the conduct of foreign policy under Castlereagh. In his old age, in the last and brightest phase of his long career, Palmerston acquires his fame in the very character in which he first entered upon office. It is as a War Minister that the Premier chiefly commands the confidence of the country. As a legislator he was never of any account; as a Foreign Minister he was bold, astute, and on the whole successful; but now that, as Premier, he can direct both the War Office and the Foreign Office, he has the widest possible scope for his peculiar abilities. And he has this great advantage, that he is not only a vigorous and sagacious director of our foreign policy, but the country fully believes in his vigour and sagacity—nay, great as they are, exaggerates them. He is the only statesman in England that the people would follow to war unhesitatingly. In some respects this may not be a matter of congratulation, but in other respects it is a great advantage. Foreign Governments, when they see England well armed, and know that she is ready to use her power promptly and energetically, if need be, will be cautious how they seek either to injure or insult us. This is unquestionably a benefit which we derive from the dictatorship of Lord Palmerston; and we have much need to acknowledge it, for it is the only one! The Cabinet without Palmerston is nothing. Fancy the same set of men with Lord Russell or Mr Gladstone for Premier, and the Ministry would not last a day. Foreign politics is still the great affair of the time; and, failing the present Premier, there are two men to whom the eyes of the country would by common consent turn, and these are Lord Derby and Lord Malmesbury. Beyond all question, these two statesmen are our great Foreign Ministers of the future; and, however troubled that future may be, the fortunes of the country will be safe in their hands. In the trying period of 1859, the Earl of Malmesbury displayed a discernment, firmness, and masterly tact, which now, though tardily, are fully acknowledged. When Palmerston was at fault—when that veteran statesman imagined that Napoleon did not purpose war, and when he kept repeating that “the Treaty of 1815 must be respected”—Lord Malmesbury had already seen through the game of the French Emperor, and took the ablest means to meet it. If deprived of Lord Palmerston, the Liberal party would not have a single man competent to direct the foreign affairs of the country; but there is no such lack on the side of the Conservatives. And this is fortunate—for it is evidently the Conservatives who are to be the predominant party in the State for a good many years to come, and it is upon them accordingly that the onerous duty of maintaining the honour and integrity of the country will chiefly devolve.

Lord Palmerston, there is no doubt, is the supreme director of the foreign policy of the Government. Lord Russell is allowed, _more suo_, to write extraordinary despatches, and to quote Vattel and Puffendorf to show how little he understands them; but whenever he takes a view which Palmerston thinks wrong, the Foreign Minister has to do as the Premier desires him. Thus it is no secret that the Foreign Secretary was in favour of the formation of Italy into two States—an idea which his chief very wisely negatived. And although not generally known, it is not less true that when, in May 1860, the French Government proposed a joint intervention, in order to prevent Garibaldi crossing from Sicily into Naples, Lord Russell was willing to acquiesce in the imperial project, but was overruled by the decisive and sagacious judgment of the veteran Premier. But when not thus in leading-strings, Lord Russell plays most fantastic tricks, so that Continental diplomatists have often wondered that such a mountebank should be the occupant of the British Foreign Office. The air of Germany seems especially to disagree with his Lordship, as three notable escapades suffice to demonstrate. There was first the grand mission to Vienna in 1855, whither his Lordship chose to go _en famille_, and from which he returned with such a progeny of blunders as astonished his colleagues, and induced even the model young Whigs to sign a round-robin begging him to resign, and not pull down the Ministry along with him. In the autumn of 1860 he was again in Germany, and the fruit of his cogitations in that foreign atmosphere was his memorable despatch of August 31, which he immediately afterwards repudiated by his still more memorable despatch of October 27. Once more he has been in Germany, and again the “black-fate” seems to have fallen upon him: for in the despatch which he wrote on the Danish question at Cobourg he has at once reversed the policy of his own and of all our other Governments during the last ten years, and taken part against a nation with whom we have especial reasons to be friends, and at the very time when such an act of unfriendliness towards Denmark was peculiarly out of place. Startling and incomprehensible as have been the blunders of Lord Russell, alike in domestic and foreign policy, it surpassed belief that he should have reserved his masterpiece of folly and incapacity to be directed against a nation, between whose dynasty and our own an official announcement had just been made of an impending matrimonial alliance.

Lord Russell’s despatch of 24th September, by which, for the first time, the British Government is made to side with the Germanic Diet in menacing the integrity of Denmark, produces an embarrassment for that country at the very time when the difficulties of the Scandinavian kingdoms were on the eve of a most happy solution. For two or three years past there has been a growing desire on the part of the Scandinavian peoples for closer union, by the consolidation of Sweden, Norway, and Denmark into one State. The difficulty was as to the means by which this was to be accomplished, and as to the form which the desired union of the cognate kingdoms should take. At one time it seemed as if an extraneous influence would exercise a malefic influence upon the process. At the beginning of September 1861 the King of Sweden, grandson of the French general Bernadotte, went by invitation to visit the Emperor Napoleon at Paris; and by some of the strange means which diplomatists have at command, it transpired that a secret arrangement had been come to by the two sovereigns that the King of Sweden should begin to play an ambitious game in the Baltic, supported by the Emperor of the French. Charles XV., youthful and ambitious of military glory, longed to repeat in the North the _rôle_ which Victor Emmanuel had played in the South; and the purport of the agreement between the monarchs of France and Sweden was, that in return for co-operating with France whenever a necessity should arise, by disquieting or attacking either Russia in Finland, or Prussia through Holstein, the dominions of the Swedish King should be aggrandised by Finland on the east, and on the west by the absorption of Denmark. Of the agitation which was immediately commenced in Finland we need not now speak; but a Swedish propagandism was at the same time commenced in Denmark, both in the towns and in the rural districts, for the purpose of altering the succession to the throne of Denmark in favour of the descendant of Bernadotte. As the King of Denmark has no heirs, it had been settled by the “London protocol,” and the act of succession based upon it, that Prince Christian of Holstein-Sonderburg should be recognised as heir to the Danish crown: hence the first object of the Swedish party in Denmark was to get this Act set aside. And as it is stipulated by the Act that the accession of Prince Christian to the throne shall be conditional upon the consent and approval of the Danish people, every means was employed to render the hereditary prince unpopular.

The closing months of last year witnessed a most happy change. The jealous opposition of the King of Sweden has recently given way to feelings the very opposite. The difficulty which his ambition threatened to occasion has been solved in a manner which will happily secure the Scandinavian kingdoms against any such danger in the future, and, moreover, gives promise of uniting them on equal terms and by mutual consent into one powerful and harmonious kingdom. Prince Christian, the heir to the crown of Denmark, has a tolerably large family; Charles of Sweden has only one daughter. It seems that it is now arranged that the eldest son of Prince Christian is to marry the only daughter of the King of Sweden; so that, when Charles of Sweden on the one hand, and the present King of Denmark and his immediate heir (Prince Christian) on the other, shall have passed from the scene, the crowns of Denmark and Sweden will be virtually united, as the King of Denmark will then be husband of the Queen of Sweden;[5] and in the generation following the crowns will be united _de facto_ upon the head of their offspring. This will be a happy consummation in the eyes of the Scandinavians; it is desirable also as a matter of European policy. The Scandinavian kingdoms, though not rich either in population or resources, and at present of little weight as military Powers, occupy a geographical position of great strategical importance in naval warfare. Severed as they now are, neither of them could defend its own position—Sweden against Russia, Denmark against Germany. But if united, their seamen are so excellent, and their position so insulated, as to render their frontiers comparatively secure. They would need little assistance from any friendly Power; and yet, if that Power were a maritime one like England, they could render it in return the most important service. They hold the gates of the Baltic. Rifled cannon have now rendered the Sound totally impassable in the face of the batteries which crown the heights on either shore. Even in former times, Nelson only got through by hugging the Swedish shore, the batteries on which did not open fire. At present we are at peace, and we ever wish to remain at peace; but should the old and formidable project of a maritime confederacy be again tried against us—a project which it required all the naval genius of Nelson, and the secrecy and promptitude of the Copenhagen expedition, to foil—we shall be at no loss to comprehend the importance of having the gates of the Baltic held by a friendly Power. The cutting off the co-operation of the Russian fleet against us would be equivalent to an addition to our navy of fifteen sail of the line. It is only natural, then, that the Russian Government should now express its approval of Earl Russell’s proposal, which cannot fail to estrange England and Denmark, and also tends to obstruct the formation of an independent Scandinavian Power, which would naturally be a rival of Russia on the Baltic.

Seven years ago, when reviewing the contingencies of the future,[6] we pointed out the importance to England of establishing a close alliance with the Scandinavian Powers, and dwelt on the natural ties and common interests which ought to make such an alliance easy of attainment and permanent in duration. The happy event, now about to be consummated, of a matrimonial alliance between the Royal Families of England and Denmark, will naturally cement an alliance also between the two countries. Before Prince Christian’s eldest son weds the only daughter of the King of Sweden, his eldest daughter will have become the consort of the heir to the British throne. This promises to be a most happy, as it is of all others, a most natural alliance. The Danes and English are kindred peoples. The former have given to the British nation the best portion of its blood. To our Scandinavian forefathers we owe our national love of the sea, our spirit of enterprise and adventure which carries us into all parts of the world; and also from them, as much as from the Saxons, we derive our love of freedom and free institutions. Royal matrimonial connections have not the importance they once had,—for the will of the nation has supplanted the mere personal will of the sovereign; but in the present case the nations are so kindred in blood, and have so many interests in common, that the people of England and Denmark are likely to be as good friends as their respective Courts could desire. Without attaching undue weight to the new relationship about to be formed between the two countries, we may at least hail it with satisfaction as certain to make either nation think more of the other, and in so doing to perceive the striking similarity of character and community of interest which exist between them. We are happy to feel assured that it is not as a political match that this marriage is to be contracted by the son of our beloved Queen, and that the bride-elect possesses in an eminent degree those advantages of person, charms of manner, and piety and amiability of character which captivate affection and secure domestic happiness. Nevertheless, while as a good princess and queen she will win our hearts, it is an additional pleasure to feel that, as sister of the future Scandinavian King, she will rivet an old and natural alliance, and draw into closer bonds the kindred races of Northern Europe.

In such a position of affairs, it was to be expected that if any change took place in the policy of England towards Denmark, it would be towards the side of friendliness. Yet the very reverse has been the case. Reversing the policy of his predecessors, and even of the present Government, Lord Russell has withdrawn the support of England from the Danish Government, and now backs up the Germanic Diet in its unfounded pretensions and serious attack upon the integrity of Denmark. His Lordship’s bizarre blundering on past occasions has prepared us for almost any folly which it was in his power to commit; but his cruel blunder in regard to Denmark is so inexplicable, so wholly devoid either of reason or excuse, and it has been perpetrated, too, in so insensate a fashion, that it is extraordinary and intolerable even for Lord Russell. The States of Holstein and Lauenburg are German duchies which for centuries have formed part of the Danish kingdom, but which are also members of the Germanic Confederacy, and over which, accordingly, the German Diet can claim a certain degree of control. When the present King of Denmark framed a common constitution for his whole dominions, the German Powers objected, and by hostile menaces compelled the Danish Government to give a separate Constitution to Holstein and Lauenburg. Such an _imperium in imperio_ is a grave difficulty for Denmark, as it would be for any State; and recently the Danish Government has agreed “to accord to the Estates of Holstein a legislative and supply-granting power, in conformity with the decrees of the Diet of 4th March 1860 and 7th February 1861.”[7] So far as Holstein is concerned, the Danish Government, to its own great embarrassment, has virtually consented to all that the German Diet demands.[8] But the Diet is not content, and has now undertaken a similar interference with the condition of Schleswig. Unlike Holstein, Schleswig is a purely Danish province. In 1823 the Prussian Government itself declared that “the Confederation was excluded from interfering in the government of Schleswig, as that duchy does not form one of the Confederated States (_Bundeslande_), and is therefore beyond the influence of the Diet.” The sole ground upon which this assumption to interfere is now made, is, that so many Germans have migrated into Schleswig that they now compose half of the population. Upon this preposterous ground the Germanic Diet demands that Schleswig also shall have a separate constitution! If this were conceded, the small territory of Denmark would contain no less than four separate constitutions, and four rival Estates—namely, of Lauenburg, Holstein, Schleswig, and Denmark Proper—each of which could give check to the others, and bring the whole administration to a dead-lock. To add to the extravagance of this project, the German Diet, after long declining to formulate its demands, proposes to accomplish the autonomy of the Danish provinces which it so modestly takes under its charge, by the establishment of a new constitution for the Danish kingdom, in which each of the four provinces or states of the kingdom shall have as many representatives as the other; so that Lauenburg, with its 50,000 inhabitants, shall have as many votes as Denmark Proper, with its 1,600,000 inhabitants. And as Holstein and Lauenburg are both German, and as Schleswig is half German, it would follow that the whole legislation and policy of the kingdom would be regulated by the German element, which numbers only about 750,000 out of the two and a half millions of the population.

The Germanic Powers have no right of any kind to interfere with the affairs of Schleswig, and their attempt to do so is one of the most glaring assumptions of power which a stronger State ever put forward at the expense of a weaker. The Danish Government, with that simple-hearted daring which distinguishes the Scandinavian race, has given a direct negative to the demands of the Diet; and rather than permit a foreign Power to interfere in its domestic affairs, is ready, with its handful of gallant and dauntless forces, to give the Germans a sample of Danish pluck and prowess. The Danish Government has not flinched an inch, although Lord Russell has strangely transferred his support to the other side. His Lordship, indeed, does not adopt in its exact form the Germanic programme; he does not propose that there shall be a common constitution for the whole kingdom, in which each province shall be equally represented; but he would give Schleswig (as well as Holstein and Lauenburg) a separate constitution from Denmark Proper, and would give to each of these provinces a co-ordinate power with the rest of the kingdom. He would have a “normal budget” on the lowest scale, to be fixed every ten years by agreement among the four Estates of the kingdom, any one of which can reject it, and thereby “stop the supplies” at once. And all extraordinary expenses—_i.e._, such as exceed this minimum budget—must be sanctioned annually by each of the four Estates. Anything so impracticable was never before proposed by a statesman, and two years ago was expressly condemned as impracticable by Lord Russell himself.[9] Lauenburg, with its 50,000 inhabitants, could bring all Denmark to a dead-lock. It is extremely doubtful whether even the normal or minimum budget would ever be voted by all of the Estates; but in regard to the extraordinary expenses, which would actually be called for every year, disagreement would be inevitable. Fancy Denmark wishing to increase her fleet—that fleet which Germany regards with so much jealousy, having been made to feel its power—would Holstein or Lauenburg agree to the vote? Or in the case of a rupture with the aggressive German Powers, would not these provinces avail themselves of the power which Lord Russell and the Germanic Diet propose shall be conferred on them, in order to stop the budget being voted in any form?

Of all the mad pranks which Lord Russell has played, this is certainly the most insensate. What a precedent he makes! With equal reason France might interfere in the affairs of our own country, and demand that Ireland should have a Parliament of her own, and also that the consent of that Parliament should be requisite before a single tax could be levied in any part of the United Kingdom! With equal reason Russia might demand separate governments for any or every part of the Turkish empire, and, moreover, insist that each of these parts should have a power of checkmating all the others. We naturally protest against the despatches of Lord Russell on account of their absurdity—we protest also on account of their injustice and substantial hostility to Denmark; and not less do we protest against any such act of interference being committed at all. Is it not strange, ludicrous, humiliating, to see our Foreign Minister lecturing little Denmark on her duties to her own subjects, and submitting a constitution cut-and-dry for her adoption, even prescribing minute details of taxation, &c.; and yet, at the very same time, our Government dare not say a word to the Cabinet of Washington—nay, is full of ample apologies for one of its own members who happened to express an opinion which is universal in this country—and stands by in humble silence and inaction while “the North fights for conquest and the South for independence”? The contrast is striking and humiliating. The attempt to coerce little Denmark is ignoble—the proposals which it is desired to enforce are absurd in their form, and most impolitic in their object. We wait to hear what the British Parliament will say to a policy in which folly and meanness are combined in equal proportions.

Strangely enough, the Continental Power which is foremost in demanding these “reforms” in the internal Government of Denmark, is itself exhibiting a melancholy spectacle of a government at feud with its own subjects. For three years past the condition of Germany has been growing more and more distracted. In the search for unity it is becoming divided; and nowhere does dissension show itself so much as in the very Power which was looked to as the natural head and rallying-point of the work of union. We deeply lament the troubles of Prussia, and not less deeply do we lament the injurious influence which they exercise upon the general condition and prospects of the Fatherland. There is no State in Europe which more tries the temper of the British public than Prussia. As a people we desire to think well of her; and yet ever and anon she checks our sympathy by some astounding exhibition of the dullest wrongheadedness. The Germans have little that is bad in their nature, but they are provokingly dull, and get into “insuperable difficulties” which might easily be evaded. The present conflict in Prussia between the King and the Chambers is a difficulty of their own making. We have not here the case of a despot wishing to crush the liberties of the nation, nor a revolutionary Chamber whose main desire is to overturn the Throne. After watching the progress of the quarrel from the commencement, and with the impartiality which comes easily to an observer at a distance, we are convinced that the King and the Chamber are alike sincere in their desire to do right, and that their lamentable strife has arisen from what was at first but an accident of the position.

The cause of the quarrel between the Prussian Government and the popular branch of the Legislature dates from 1859. In that year two distinct but correlative sentiments became universal in Germany. One of these was the insecurity of the Fatherland from external attack, owing to the defects of the military organisation; the other was a revival of the old desire for a closer union among the States of the Confederation, with a view to the ultimate unification of Germany. These sentiments were shared by both the King and the Parliament of Prussia; but the King was most influenced by the first of these sentiments, the lower Chamber by the second. The Chamber desired that the Government should immediately commence measures for the unification of Germany—measures which could only be carried out by “mediatising” or sweeping away the lesser courts. The King, an honourable and conscientious man, declined to attack the rights of the other Sovereign Princes of Germany, but addressed himself with zeal to the improvement of the military resources of his own State. The result of military investigation proved that, under the existing system of only three years’ service, the average training of the soldiers was too short to perfect them in the use of the arms of precision, and the new manœuvres thereby rendered necessary, by which the fortunes of every battle are now determined. Hence the Government, acting upon the report of a committee appointed to investigate the matter, ordered that the minimum period of military service should be lengthened from three years to five: a regulation which, the conscription being kept up at its previous amount, also augmented the numerical strength of the army. When the Chambers met in 1860, the lower House made great opposition to the part of the budget which related to the additional expenditure thus rendered necessary; but they allowed it to pass for that year only. At the same time they carried a motion _against_ the Government, urging the Government to adopt a “strong policy,” with the view of promoting the unification of the Fatherland under the leadership of Prussia. Averse as the King was to adopt a course of action inimical to the rights of the other German Courts, the Government could not fail to see that, if the Chamber were thus resolved upon aggression, it furnished an additional reason why the Prussian army should be kept in a state of efficiency. As the Prime Minister observed, it is ridiculous for a State to adopt a “strong policy” without having a strong army to back it. Accordingly in the following year the obnoxious item again made its appearance in the Budget. The opposition of the Lower Chamber became more vehement than ever: but again the military estimates were allowed to pass provisionally, and with a distinct intimation to the Government that nothing would induce the Chamber to sanction the vote in the following year.

Thus, last year, the affair came to a crisis. The Lower Chamber or House of Commons struck out of the Budget the sum required for the increase of the army made in 1859 by the prolongation of the term of service. The Upper Chamber replaced it. But on the Budget thus amended, or rather thus restored to its original form, being returned to the Lower Chamber for its approval, the Chamber refused to pass it. Thus the country was left without any Budget at all. In this dilemma the Government decreed, that as no Budget had been passed, their only course was to fall back upon the Budget voted by the Chambers in the previous year (which contained the allowance for the increase of the army), and the taxes have been levied accordingly.

It is curious to observe that both the Government and the Lower Chamber appeal to the Constitution in support of their totally opposite views. One article of the Prussian Constitution, as revised ten years ago, decrees that the Upper Chamber shall have no power to alter, but simply to reject, the Budget. Another article decrees that the Budget shall be treated as an ordinary legislative enactment: and for all such enactments it is decreed that they cannot become valid without the united consent of the two Chambers and of the Crown. It is also decreed by the Constitution, that in the event of no Budget being passed, the Budget of the previous year shall continue in force. In regard to what actually took place, the Lower Chamber can maintain that the Constitution was violated by the Upper Chamber _altering_ (it is allowed they had the power to _reject_) the Budget. But that is a question between the two Houses with which the Government has nothing to do. The only fact which the Government had to deal with was, that no Budget was passed. (And obviously the result would have been the same if the Upper Chamber, instead of altering the Budget, had simply rejected it.) Accordingly, no Budget having been passed, the Budget of the previous year continued in force in virtue of the Constitution itself. It is a mistake, therefore, to suppose that any Bill of Indemnity is required by the Government. The levying of taxes during the past year, to the amount of the previous Budget, was no special act of theirs, but was enjoined by the Constitution. We extremely regret, therefore, to see that the Prussian Deputies appear resolved to act as if the Government had committed an actual violation of the constitution,—which most certainly it has not done.

While the King and Parliament of Prussia are thus demonstrating how much mischief may be occasioned even by good intentions—by a simple-hearted but dull-witted desire on either side to do what is right—and thereby destroying the high prestige which once made the hegemony of Germany appear to be the natural reversion of Prussia, the other great leading Power in Germany is displaying a broad freedom, frank constitutionalism, and statesmanlike ability, which are winning for her universal admiration and respect. Despotism has been but a recent and transitory phenomenon in the history of Austria. It ought to be remembered that members of the House of Hapsburg were the first royal champions of political reform in Europe. Not to go back to the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, when the Estates of Austria enjoyed an amount of influence second only to that possessed by the Parliament of England; the Grand-Duke Leopold immortalised himself by his bold and thoughtful reforms in Tuscany, which, though established nearly a century ago, were cherished by his subjects as in unison with the times even down to the present day. The Emperor Joseph II. played a similar part in the history of Austria, exhibiting a liberality of opinion so ardent, and in those days so singular, that he was regarded in most quarters as an eminently rash, though amiable and philanthropic theorist. He commenced the work of reform without any pressure from below, and he trusted to regulate and complete the work happily by placing himself at its head. The wild outburst of the French Revolution of 1789, which startled and checked Pitt in his projects of Parliamentary Reform, produced a similar effect in other countries; and with reluctance and regret the Austrian Emperor paused in his work of liberalising the administration, and the long war with France diverted the thoughts of his successor into another channel. Francis-Joseph has resumed the work which fell incomplete from the hands of Joseph II. He has also undone at a stroke the project of autocratic centralisation, which was in part a mistake, and in part a lamentable but necessary consequence of the revolutionary contests of 1848–49—which, it ought to be remembered, proved fatal to the liberties of the people in France not less than in Austria. It is only within the last fifteen years that the internal government of Austria assumed that despotic form which has been so injurious to the character of the House of Hapsburg in free countries like ours. While France still groaned under the old regime which was overthrown in 1789—while she bled under the atrocious despots of the Republic, or was held in chains under the brilliant tyranny of Napoleon I.—the subjects of the Austrian crown enjoyed personal rights and local institutions which, in comparison, were perfect freedom. No State, during the long war with France, received so many deadly blows as Austria; yet all those blows were firmly sustained, and those reverses nobly retrieved, by the steady and gallant loyalty of its subjects. It was the practical freedom and good government enjoyed by the Austria peoples which prevented the sundering of an empire above all others most liable to be split up under the effects of great reverses, and which rallied the noble races of the Tyrol and Hungary around the throne of their sovereign in the gloomiest hours of the empire. The Emperor Francis-Joseph is now doing his best—wisely and bravely—to retrieve the mistakes, and obliterate from memory the stern necessities of the recent past. And he is already reaping his reward in a revival on the part of his people of the old loyalty which formerly so brightly illustrated the annals of Austria.