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Table of Contents

O’Connell and the Agitation for Repeal of the Union—Early Life of the Agitator—Character of his Oratory—Question as to the Purity of his Motives—The “Repeal Year” (1843)—Methods by which O’Connell worked on Irish Opinion—Open-air Gatherings on the Repeal Question—Extravagant Speeches of O’Connell—Crowning of the Liberator on the Hill of Tara—Prohibition of a proposed Meeting at Clontarf—Arrest of the Chief Agitators—Trial, Condemnation, and Sentences—The Convictions annulled by the House of Lords—Release of O’Connell, and Final Years of his Life—Effect of the Prosecution on the Government of Sir Robert Peel—Death of Prince Albert’s Father—Visit of the Prince to Saxe-Coburg-Gotha—His Presents to the Queen on her Birthday (1844)—Visits of the King of Saxony and the Emperor of Russia to England—Appearance and Manners of the Emperor—Political Objects of Nicholas in Visiting London—His Designs on Turkey—Memorandum of Agreement between the Czar and the English Government—Jealousy on the Part of the French—Ministerial Crisis in the Summer of 1844—Sir James Graham and the Opening of Letters at the Post Office—Disagreement with France with Respect to the Island of Tahiti—The Pritchard Affair—Queen Pomare and Queen Victoria—Anxieties of the English Court as to the Maintenance of Peace—The Ashburton Treaty with the United States.

Ireland, always more or less disturbed, was excited nearly to the point of rebellion in 1843, owing to an agitation for the Repeal of the Union which had been originated by Daniel O’Connell, one of the most remarkable men of that epoch. O’Connell belonged to a good but impoverished family in Kerry, and was brought up as a lawyer. But Nature had designed him for little else than a political agitator, and the demand for Roman Catholic Emancipation, which began to acquire force in the early part of the present century, drew him into the whirlpool of public life. Whatever his faults and errors, he was unquestionably a devoted son of the Church to which he and his family belonged; and the Romanists of this realm suffered at that time from many unjust disabilities. In a few years he became the leader of the movement; and when the Act of 1829 was passed, O’Connell was regarded by the great mass of the Irish people as a hero who could always lead them to victory. When a very young man, he was opposed to the union of the English and Irish Legislatures, and in 1841 he renewed an earlier agitation in favour of repealing that arrangement. As long as the Whigs were in power, or nearly so, O’Connell kept the national excitement within reasonable bounds; for he hoped to extort a good deal from a party which depended on extraneous support, and he was prepared to take less than his full demand, in the belief that an instalment in one year would prepare the way for complete payment in another. But, when it became evident that Sir Robert Peel would soon be Prime Minister, it was considered that nothing could be obtained except by means of an agitation carried to the extreme verge of legality, and apparently, if not really, threatening to pass beyond it.

The aims of O’Connell were far more national than political. He was studying in France when the great Revolution broke out, and its horrors made such an impression on his mind that he returned to his own country “half a Tory at heart.” His views were never what might be called Radical or democratic—though in many respects liberal; but he was a consummate demagogue—that is to say, a man gifted with a marvellous capacity of exciting, swaying, and controlling the mobs which were at once the sources and the subjects of his power. To these results, his commanding figure, expressive countenance, and splendid voice, contributed not a little. It may be doubted if there has ever been so accomplished an agitator in the modern world: those of the ancient republics spoke to much smaller audiences. One secret of his success (so far as he can be said to have succeeded) lay in the complete harmony which existed between himself and the majority of the Irish people. His face declared him to be an unmixed Celt, of the Hibernian variety; and not merely his face, but every throb of his nature. Passionate, impulsive, violent in thought and in expression, boastful, wayward, pathetic, and humorous, he drew from all these qualities a species of eloquence peculiarly suited to the audiences he addressed. In the open air, on a bleak hill-side, he would bring together thousands of half-barbarian peasantry, and play upon them, as a master plays upon an instrument. He had the almost unparalleled gift of stimulating his hearers to the very brink of some mad outbreak, and of restraining them at the last moment. It must be recorded to the credit of O’Connell that he always repudiated and condemned the resort to physical force, and that he did actually avoid it. Yet the turmoil he created was almost as distracting as civil war, and the gigantic failure of the Repeal movement was written in gloomy characters all over Ireland.

O’Connell had sat in the Imperial Parliament since 1829; and even in the House of Commons his fervid and headlong eloquence was often most impressive. But his greatest triumphs belonged, doubtless, to what may be called the platform order of oratory. The champion of Repeal had an unexampled command over the vocabulary of abuse; though it must be admitted that some of his opponents were not far behind in this effective accomplishment. Not only was O’Connell in the habit of referring, in general terms, to “the base, brutal, and bloody Saxon” (by whom, it may be necessary to explain, he meant the English people), but he attacked particular individuals with a ferocity of invective which was frequently more ludicrous than terrible. Unquestionably he had some of the characteristics of a great orator; yet his style was often tawdry, and his sentiment overwrought. Partly, perhaps, by virtue of these very characteristics, he acquired such an influence over the Roman Catholic Irish that there were but few things they would not have done, or abstained from doing, at a word from him. How far he was an honest man, is a subject which has been much disputed. It seems impossible to doubt that he loved his country, however imprudently; but it is also very difficult not to believe that he loved himself quite as much. In order to carry on his agitation, he called for the formation of a fund which came to be termed the Repeal Rent, and which was derived almost entirely from the weekly contributions of the poverty-stricken cotters of Ireland. These payments went into the hands of the Liberator, as O’Connell was fondly called; and it was asserted by many that the larger part was expended by him on his own gratifications. His advocates defend him in this respect by saying that he gave up a magnificent practice at the bar for the sake of conducting the Repeal movement, and that therefore he had a moral claim to some other source of income. But this is surely making patriotism easy, and even pleasant, after a fashion never before dreamt of by patriots of exalted character. It would appear also that in some instances O’Connell wrung their contributions from

DANIEL O’CONNELL.

the peasantry by absolute coercion, and that his ordinary dealings with his own tenants were particularly bad, since he acted as a “Middleman,” who appropriated three times as much rent as he paid to the head-landlord.16 It is no answer to such statements to say that O’Connell died poor, for the Repeal Rent—long the chief source of his income—had dwindled to nothing for some few years before his death.

At the beginning of 1843, the Liberator declared that that year was and should be “the Repeal Year.” He had for several months been endeavouring to strike a blow at British commerce by directing his followers to refuse all articles of British manufacture, and by setting an example in the garments which he himself wore. But this had very little effect; for the poor, who form the majority in Ireland, could not afford to indulge their national antipathies at the cost of higher-priced and probably inferior goods. It was therefore necessary to hold open-air meetings on a gigantic scale and in quick succession, though in 1843 the arch-agitator was about sixty-eight years of age. O’Connell not unfrequently touched on the land question which has given so much trouble in more recent times, and flattered Irish agriculturists with the hope of obtaining farms at no great sacrifice on their own parts. But the main object of his life, after the achievement of Roman Catholic Emancipation, was the passing of a measure for Repeal. The methods he pursued were sometimes not a little puzzling to English minds. While using language towards the British Parliament and the British people which looked like an indirect incentive to rebellion, notwithstanding its saving clauses, O’Connell would pour out the most flattering homage to the Queen; even prophesying that the time would come when her Majesty would gladly fly from her Tory enemies, and seek refuge among her faithful Irish—with a view, it would seem to have been implied, of ruling England from Ireland. All this nonsense pleased those who listened to it; but it was only so much byplay. The real agitation was far more serious; at one time it looked formidable. From the spring to the autumn of 1843, numerous meetings (generally on Sunday, that more might attend) were held in various parts of Ireland, at the bidding of O’Connell, and with the sanction of the priesthood of all grades. They were attended by enormous numbers, several of whom had marched, in a semi-military fashion, many miles from their homes. It is said that at some of these gatherings no fewer than a quarter of a million persons were present; and it was remarked as singular that, during the agitation, crime became almost extinct. This was partly due to the sweet, persuasive exhortations of the Apostle of Temperance, Father Mathew, who had recently produced a most remarkable effect in checking drunkenness in Ireland, and causing many thousands to take the pledge of total abstinence. But it must in some degree be ascribed to the fact that the minds of the humbler classes were occupied by serious thoughts of a political character, and influenced by an excitement which left room for no other. The exultation of passion had for a time superseded the insane fury of the whisky-bottle.

At the open-air meetings, the speeches of O’Connell were characterised by his most effective style of popular oratory. The unapproachable excellence of Ireland, the unexampled baseness and cruelty of England, were the themes on which he principally dwelt. All the miseries of his native land would be removed as soon as an Irish Parliament was once more sitting on College Green. That event would be brought about in not more than a year; and then the golden age of Ireland would begin. A good many picturesque but rather theatrical accessories were introduced on these occasions. Banners, showy decorations, and exciting music, accompanied the march of the peasantry, and at an unusually large meeting on the hill of Tara—a spot where the ancient kings of Ireland used to be elected—O’Connell himself was crowned with a species of semi-regal cap. This was on the 15th of August: on the 8th of October, an immense meeting was to be held at Clontarf, three miles from Dublin. But the Government now thought that matters were proceeding to a dangerous length. They had already passed an Arms Act for Ireland, by which great restrictions were laid on the possession of deadly weapons; they had concentrated large bodies of troops in the disaffected country; and, by a proclamation issued on the 7th of October, they forbade the contemplated assemblage. It was certainly a wise resolution. In spite of his repeated declarations that nothing was to be done of an illegal nature, O’Connell had of late used several expressions well calculated to stir up an excitable people like the Irish to rebellion and civil war. There was unquestionably no slight danger of an outbreak, and it was high time for the “base, brutal, and bloody Saxon” to show that his patience had a limit.

Had the meeting been held, it is not improbable that a collision would have taken place between the populace and the soldiery. O’Connell, however, at once issued a proclamation of his own, declaring that the orders of the Lord Lieutenant must be obeyed, and that the people must return to their homes. Why the meeting was not forbidden by the Government until the very day before it was to be held, is a State secret which has never been explained. The people were already coming in from all the country round, and, as a large military force was massed together on the spot, it is wonderful that a sanguinary combat did not ensue. Some members of the Repeal Association stationed themselves on the roads approaching Clontarf to turn back as many as they could; but several arrived on the early morning of the 8th, and speedily found themselves between close lines of troops. The mandate of the Liberator, however, was obeyed with marvellous alacrity, and the meeting (such as it was) dispersed without any untoward event. The Government had at length done what it ought to have done before; and it was now resolved to take a further step—namely, to prosecute the chief agitator and his colleagues. O’Connell, his son, and eight others, were arrested on charges of conspiracy, sedition, and unlawful assembling. Nothing could exceed the dismay of the Liberator at the prospect which now opened before him. He issued addresses to the people, passionately exhorting them to observe the utmost forbearance and moderation, and seemed to consider that his pacific words would utterly obliterate the effect of the inflammatory language he had used only a few weeks before. In point of fact, they nearly obliterated himself. The Repeal Association broke up into two camps. One, consisting of the older members, clung to their accustomed leader; the other, composed of all the youthful and fiery spirits, formed a new combination, which was afterwards known as that of “Young Ireland,” and which openly declared its intention to rebel at the very earliest opportunity.

The proceedings against O’Connell and his associates commenced formally on the 2nd of November, 1843, in the Dublin Court of Queen’s Bench; but the actual trial did not begin until the 16th of January, 1844. Owing, it would seem, to some error, the jury consisted entirely of Protestants, who, as a rule, were not likely to have much regard for the author of Roman Catholic Emancipation; but whether this circumstance, however unfortunate and objectionable, had any real effect upon the verdict, it would be somewhat dangerous to pronounce. The trial did not terminate until the 12th of February, nor was

THE FOUR COURTS, DUBLIN.

sentence passed before the 30th of May, 1844. With one exception, all the prisoners were found guilty, and sentences of varying severity were pronounced. O’Connell was condemned to one year’s imprisonment, to pay a fine of £2,000, and to enter into security and recognisances, in the sum of £5,000, for his good behaviour during a term of seven years. The others were sentenced to nine months’ imprisonment, together with a fine of £50, and were ordered to find securities for the same period as their leader, in the sum of £1,000. They were removed to the Richmond Penitentiary at Dublin. The Liberator issued a proclamation to the Irish people, commanding them to keep perfectly quiet; but at the same time he transmitted a writ of error to London, in order that the legality of the sentence might be reconsidered. The Lords, to whom the appeal was made, referred the matter to the twelve Judges; the Judges were not agreed as to the technical points involved; and the question went back again to the Lords. The decision now rested with four Law Lords, three of whom—Lords

OLD PARLIAMENT HOUSE, DUBLIN.

Denman, Cottenham, and Campbell—voted that the judgment of the Irish Court should be reversed. The only dissentient was Lord Brougham; but his single vote was, of course, inoperative. O’Connell, therefore, had gained a legal triumph, and he was released from prison in the midst of a popular ovation. The decision of the Lords was pronounced on the 4th of September, by which time, O’Connell and his friends had already undergone a considerable portion of their imprisonment. They had been treated with great leniency, however, and O’Connell was allowed to see his admirers in jail to an extent which appears to have positively injured his health. Certain it is that he was never again the vigorous man he had been; but this result was probably owing in a much greater degree to disappointment, and humiliation of spirit. His power had passed away from him. Younger and more energetic men were taking his place; the English Government had shown its power to handle the agitator firmly; age was creeping upon him; and he did little more during the remainder of his days. In the latter part of 1846, his health and spirits were so completely broke that he could not endure any allusions to his beloved Ireland and her future. Early in 1847, he commenced a journey to Rome, where he desired to close his career in the very bosom of the Church to which he had always been attached. His mind was tortured by many painful memories, for in his earlier years his life had been open to reproach in more ways than one. An overmastering dread of death now came upon him, and one of his last fears was that he should be buried alive. His earnest desire to reach the Eternal City was denied him. He could get no farther than Genoa; and there he expired on the 15th of May, 1847, leaving behind him a great, but on the whole not a happy, reputation.

It was feared by many persons in England that the trial and conviction of O’Connell would raise such a tumult amongst the Irish party in the Legislature, and their Liberal allies, as to endanger the existence of the Government. This proved not to be the fact; but it was certainly a reasonable forecast, and it was the view formed by Baron Stockmar, who from his German home watched with interest the progress of events in England and Ireland. In a letter to Prince Albert, dated November 27th, 1843, he says:—“It is an old principle with me, to form no judgments at a distance upon matters which lie far away from my sphere of observation. Consequently, I can only express mere feelings in so far as personal matters are concerned. The news of the O’Connell trial took me by surprise, and threw me into an uneasy state of mind, that set me thinking, not so much what might ensue from a favourable or unfavourable issue to the prosecution, as what the Ministry are to do with their victory, supposing them to get one. To my thinking, victory is likely to prove more dangerous than failure; and apprehensions seized me, which I still entertain, that this trial may very possibly lead to a speedy termination of the Peel Ministry.” Not only was this anticipation falsified, but the Government gained in strength from its virtual triumph over O’Connell. Measures of a really beneficial character to Ireland were passed about this period, and for a time the disaffection of the country underwent considerable abatement.

In the early part of 1844, a great affliction fell upon Prince Albert. His father died on the 29th of January, and, although such an event had been anticipated for some time past, the shock was none the less on that account. The grief of the Queen was almost equal to the Prince’s own, and a deep gloom settled down upon the Royal circle. On the 4th of February, Prince Albert wrote to Baron Stockmar:—“God will give us all strength to bear the blow becomingly. That we were separated gives it a peculiar poignancy. Not to see him, not to be present to close his eyes, not to help to comfort those he leaves behind, and to be comforted by them, is very hard. Here we sit together, poor Mamma, Victorie, and myself, and weep, with a great, cold public around us, insensible as stone. To have some true, sympathetic friend at hand would be a great solace. Come to us in this time of trouble, if come you can.... The world is assuredly not our true happiness; and, alas! every day’s experience forces me to see how wicked men are. Every imaginable calumny is heaped upon us, especially upon me; and although a pure nature, conscious of its own high purposes, is and ought to be lifted above attacks, still it is painful to be misrepresented by people of whom one believed better things.” On the 28th of March, the Prince left England for his father’s small dominions, in order to assist his brother Ernest in commencing his duties as the reigning Duke. It was the first time that he and the Queen had ever been parted since their marriage, and both felt the separation acutely. Two days before the Prince’s departure, the Queen of the Belgians reached Buckingham Palace, to spend a brief time with the English sovereign during the period of her solitude; and King Leopold himself arrived a few days later. On the 11th of April, the Prince was back again at Windsor. He records in his diary that he arrived at six o’clock in the evening, in the midst of “great joy.”

The Queen’s birthday was approaching even before the Prince left England; and the latter had already given orders for the preparation of two gifts to her Majesty, which he knew would be very acceptable. On the 5th of March, Prince Albert asked Mr. Eastlake, the painter, if he could execute by the 24th of May a little picture of angels, such as he had introduced into his fresco in the pavilion of Buckingham Palace Gardens. He promised to do the picture by the time mentioned, although he was already at work on one for her Majesty. The other present was a miniature portrait of the Prince himself, by Thorburn, taken in armour, in accordance with a wish frequently expressed by the Queen. The portrait is a full-length, and is said by her Majesty to give the Prince’s real expression more than anything that she knew. “During the fatal illness, and on the last morning of his life,” she writes on the 20th of December, 1873, “he was wonderfully like this picture.” The lower part of the face was done in half an hour, and the whole character and aspect are extremely noble. The two pictures were presented to the Queen on her birthday, at Claremont, where the Royal couple were staying.

The King of Saxony was at this time expected at Buckingham Palace, and he arrived there on the 1st of June. Only two days before, her Majesty and the Prince had been somewhat surprised at hearing that the Emperor of Russia was on his way to visit the English Court, and that he might be looked for at almost any moment. He reached London on the night of June 1st, and remained until the following morning at the Russian Embassy. Next day, he was brought by Prince Albert to Buckingham Palace, where he became the guest of her Majesty, though he again went to the Embassy at night, having resolved for the present not to occupy the apartments prepared for him at the Palace. On the 3rd of June, he was escorted by Prince Albert from the Slough Station to Windsor Castle, whither the Court had now removed.

The habits of this Northern potentate were in some respects remarkably simple and austere. All through his life, he slept on a leathern sack, stuffed with hay or straw. The sack thus filled was stretched upon a camp-bed, and the Emperor never intermitted this custom, even when on a visit to foreign Courts. He produced a very marked impression on the Queen and Prince Albert, and the former, writing to her uncle, the King of the Belgians, on the 4th of June, observes of the Emperor:—“He is certainly a very striking man, still very handsome; his profile is beautiful, and his manners most dignified and graceful; extremely civil, quite alarmingly so, as he is so full of attention and politesse. But the expression of the eyes is severe, and unlike anything I ever saw before. He gives Albert and myself the impression of a man who is not happy, and on whom the burden of his immense power and position weighs heavily and painfully. He seldom smiles, and, when he does, the expression is not a happy one. He is very easy to get on with.” Lady Lyttelton says in one of her letters:—“The only fault in his face is that he has pale eyelashes, and his enormous and very brilliant eyes have no shade; besides which, they have the awful look given by occasional glimpses of white above the eyeball, which comes from his father Paul, I suppose, and gives a savage wildness, for a moment, pretty often.”

He and the King of Saxony were delighted with Windsor, and the Emperor said that the English Court was conducted on the noblest scale of any Court he had ever seen, everything being done without effort, and as if it were the ordinary condition of affairs. The Autocrat of the Russias abounded in gallant speeches to the British sovereign, and pleased her much by his high praises of Prince Albert. Her Majesty was at first a good deal opposed to the visit, seeming to entertain some vague feelings of apprehension on political grounds; but, after a few days, she conceived a sentiment of friendship for him, and in writing to King Leopold expressed her conviction that he was truthful and sincere. She did not regard him as very clever, and she saw that his mind was far from cultivated. The arts, which were so dear to her own husband, he regarded with entire want of interest, and confined his attention solely to politics and military affairs. He showed much alarm about the condition of the East, and professed the greatest anxiety to be on good terms with this country. Speaking of sovereign rulers to her Majesty, he made use of an expression which was very remarkable as coming from him; being to the effect that in modern times all princes should strive to make themselves worthy of their position, so as to reconcile people to the fact of their being princes. This does not seem much in accordance with the ideas or practices of the Czar Nicholas; but his discernment may have taught him what his position, his passions, or his habits, did not allow him to carry out.

The Russian Emperor and the King of Saxony attended Ascot Races on the 4th of June, and witnessed a review in Windsor Park on the 5th. Every evening, a great dinner was served in the Waterloo Room at Windsor Castle.

THE EMPEROR NICHOLAS.

Visits were likewise paid to the seat of the Duke of Devonshire, at Chiswick, and to the Opera; and the Emperor seems to have been really much pleased by his reception. There can be no doubt that he had a political object in coming to England. Turkey was engaging much of his attention, as it had done in earlier years, and he was deeply desirous of carrying out the traditional policy of Russia, as it had been formulated from the days of Peter the Great. He saw that Turkey was in an impoverished and weakened state, partly in consequence of his own acts, and those of his predecessors; and he thought the time had come when some approach should be made towards an understanding with England as to what should be done with the Sultan’s inheritance when he could no longer hold it for himself. With this view, he talked a good deal with Prince Albert, Sir Robert Peel, and Lord Aberdeen. His desire to propitiate the good opinion of the English Government and people was most evident; but the events of later years showed but too plainly with what objects he pursued these conciliatory efforts. The cordial relations which had long existed between England and France were viewed by Nicholas with great distrust and jealousy; for he feared—what, in fact, afterwards occurred—that the two Powers might combine to restrain his ambition in the East. He wished to break up the good feeling between England and France, but met with no encouragement in this respect from Sir Robert Peel. He said that he did not covet an inch of Turkish soil for himself, but that he would not allow anybody else to have one. This, of course, was spoken with reference to France, who had undoubtedly, a few years before, shown a disposition to establish herself in Syria and Egypt. Sir Robert Peel replied by answering that no Government should be created in Egypt too powerful to close the passage across that country to the commerce or the mails of England.

The conversation with the English Premier and Minister for Foreign Affairs took the ultimate form of a Memorandum drawn up by Count Nesselrode by order of the Emperor after his return to St. Petersburg. Being transmitted to England, this document was deposited in the secret archives of the Foreign Office, but made public some ten years later, at the period of the Crimean War. “Russia and England,” said the Memorandum, “are mutually penetrated with the conviction that it is for their common interest that the Ottoman Porte should maintain itself in the state of independence and of territorial possession which at present constitutes that Empire, as that political combination is the one which is most compatible with the general interest of the maintenance of peace. Being agreed on this principle, Russia and England have an equal interest in uniting their efforts in order to keep up the Ottoman Empire, and to avert all the dangers which can place in jeopardy its safety.” The Memorandum then went on to observe that the Porte had a constant tendency to extricate itself from engagements imposed upon it by treaties concluded with other Powers; that it hoped to do so with impunity, because it reckoned upon the mutual jealousy of the Cabinets; that, when coming into collision with any one of the Powers on this account, it relied on the others to espouse its quarrel; that it was essential not to confirm the Porte in this delusion; and that every time it failed in its obligations towards one of the Great Powers, it was the interest of all the rest to bring their influence to bear upon the offender. “The object for which Russia and England will have to come to an understanding,” the Memorandum went on to say, “may be expressed in the following manner:—(1) To seek to maintain the existence of the Ottoman Empire in its present state, so long as that political combination shall be possible. (2) If we foresee that it must crumble to pieces, to enter into previous concert as to everything relating to the establishment of a new order of things, intended to replace that which now exists, and, in conjunction with each other, to see that the change which may have occurred in the internal situation of that Empire shall not injuriously affect either the security of their own States, and the rights which the treaties assure to them respectively, or the maintenance of the balance of power in Europe.” The Emperor declared that Russia and Austria were agreed as to this policy, and that, if England, as the principal maritime Power, would act in concert with them, France would in all probability be obliged to follow the same course, and thus the peace of Europe would be maintained. The fixed intention of Russia, to take the earliest opportunity of making a combined attack upon Turkey, is glaringly apparent throughout this document; and it is little to the credit of Sir Robert Peel and Lord Aberdeen that they should have given any sanction whatever to such a project. The Memorandum of 1844 enabled the Russian Emperor, in 1854, to allege a common understanding with England, in defence of his designs against Turkey. The Earl of Aberdeen was probably the moving spirit in the matter, so far as Great Britain was concerned; and it is one of many proofs that that Minister had far too kindly a regard for the interests of the Northern Power.

Nicholas quitted London on the 9th of June, after producing a very good impression on the ladies and gentlemen of the Court by his magnificent presents of jewels to the former, and, as regarded the latter, by the gift of a very valuable cup, to be annually run for at Ascot, which he had visited twice during his brief stay. Whether he produced an equally good impression on the mass of the English people, is a very doubtful matter. It was said at the time that he was hissed on one occasion, when driving out with the Queen; and it is probable that such was the fact. He was disliked as a despot; his conduct towards Poland was viewed with detestation; and that he had designs on India, was suspected and believed by many. But his reception at the English Court was sufficiently warm to create a feeling of irritation on the part of the French, who inferred—not altogether without reason—that some secret arrangement had been made to the prejudice of their interests. It was feared for a time that this sentiment would have the effect of setting aside a visit to England which had been contemplated by Louis Philippe since the visit of the Queen and Prince Albert to that monarch in the previous year. Alluding to the fear that this compliment might not be paid, in consequence of what had happened with the Emperor, her Majesty, in writing to King Leopold, says:—“I hope that you will persuade the King (Louis Philippe) to come all the same in September. Our motives and politics are, not to be exclusive, but to be on good terms with all—and why should we not? We make no secret of it.” The King of Saxony left England on the 19th of June, and the Court now returned to its usual and somewhat quiet routine.

Parliament had been opened by the Queen in person on the 1st of February, and all had gone on fairly well for some months. The financial policy of Sir Robert Peel had led to admirable results, and at the close of the year ending the 5th of April, 1844, the Chancellor of the Exchequer announced a surplus of £4,165,000, which, after deducting what was required to pay off the deficiency of the previous year, left a balance of £1,400,000. It might have been supposed that all political parties would have been equally pleased with so fortunate a condition; but many amongst the supporters of Sir Robert Peel himself were dissatisfied with what had been done, because it was effected in despite of their own Protectionist views. On the 14th of June, accordingly, they voted in force against the resolutions proposed by the Government upon the Sugar Duties. An amendment to those resolutions was brought forward, and, on a division,

CATHEDRAL OF ST. ISAAC, ST. PETERSBURG.

Ministers found themselves in a minority of twenty in a House of 462. The Premier and his principal colleagues were disposed to resign at once; but at a large meeting of Conservatives, held on the 17th of June, so much confidence in the Government was expressed, that Peel hesitated in his intention, and, on the evening of the same day, a vote in Committee reversed the decision of the 14th. The Prime Minister had clearly intimated that, unless such a reversal was obtained, he should resign office; and the threat had doubtless operated on many who delighted to embarrass the Ministry, but did not wish to see it upset.

Another disagreeable circumstance occurred at the same time. On the 14th of June, Mr. Thomas Duncombe presented to the House of Commons a petition from the Italian revolutionist, Signor Mazzini, and three others, complaining that during the past month a number of their letters, passing through the General Post Office—letters, they averred, written for no political purpose, and containing no treasonable or libellous matter—had been regularly detained and opened. The circumstance led to great excitement at the time, and many not belonging to the extreme order of politicians condemned the Home Secretary, Sir James Graham, for the course he had adopted. Mr. Carlyle wrote to the

JOSEPH MAZZINI.

Times, setting forth that he had known Signor Mazzini for several years, and that he considered him “a man of genius and virtue, a man of sterling veracity, humanity, and nobleness of mind;” moreover, that opening a man’s letters was nearly akin to picking his pockets, and even to still viler forms of scoundrelism. The writer, however, admitted that letters might be opened if a Gunpowder Plot were imminent, or some national wreck were not far off; but he would on no account sanction the practice until those conditions had been fulfilled. Now, the plain truth of the matter appears to have been this—that Signor Mazzini had taken advantage of his place of refuge in England to conspire with divers Republicans in Italy for the destruction of Austrian and Papal despotism, in that peninsula. The intentions of these persons may have been admirable, and certainly the annihilation of the tyrannies against which they conspired was highly desirable, in the interests both of Italy and the whole world. But it is not proper for any Government to allow foreigners living under its protection to conspire against other States with which the protecting country is at peace. Sir James Graham had reason to believe that Mazzini was occupied in doing this very thing, and he showed conclusively that the Secretary of State had been invested by Parliament with the power, in certain cases, of issuing warrants, by virtue of which letters might be opened. Some former Home Secretaries declared that they had used this power, and the case began to assume another aspect. A Secret Committee of the two Houses, however, was appointed to inquire into the law and practice of opening private letters at the Post Office. The Report of this Committee showed that the annual average of warrants, at no time very high, had in recent years decreased rather than augmented, and that Sir James Graham had been particularly conscientious in the exercise of his right; and the outcry soon died away.

Difficulties with France occurred during the year 1844, which were doubtless aggravated by the irritable state of French opinion consequent on the apprehension that England was intriguing with Russia against the interests of France in the East. The island of Otaheite, or Tahiti, situated in the South Pacific Ocean, had for the last two years been a subject of contention between France and England. The territory was visited by Commodore Byron in 1765, and two years later by Captain Wallis, who called it George III. Island. It was explored by Captain Cook in 1768 and two subsequent years. In 1799 the district of Matavai was ceded to some English missionaries; so that, as far as European Powers were concerned, the island seems to have belonged more to England than to any other country. But, on the 9th of September, 1842, Queen Pomare was compelled to put herself under the protection of France. She soon afterwards retracted her enforced consent, and Tahiti, together with the neighbouring islands, was then seized by Admiral Dupetit Thouars in the name of the French King. The natives of Tahiti, as of the Society Islands generally, had shown considerable readiness to adopt the ways of civilisation, and the Protestant missionaries sent out by England had effected a considerable improvement in their habits. After a time, certain Roman Catholic missionaries made their appearance in the island, and endeavoured to interfere with that part of the population which had already been converted by the Protestants. Quarrels very naturally ensued, and France interposed on behalf of her fellow-believers. Such was the origin of the disagreements between France and England with respect to Tahiti. Public feeling in both countries was greatly inflamed; but the French Government, in deference to English remonstrances, represented that they would be satisfied with simply exercising a Protectorate over the island. The opposition in the French Chambers characterised this concession as an act of gratuitous humiliation for their country, and it was feared that war would ensue.

This was rendered all the more probable in the early part of 1844, when, on the 2nd of March, a French sentinel was disarmed by the natives. The French Commandant chose to consider the English missionary and Consul, Mr. Pritchard, the instigator of this act, and he caused him to be at once arrested, and thrown into prison. “His property,” wrote the Commandant (D’Aubigny), in an excited proclamation, “shall be answerable for all damage occasioned to our establishments by the insurgents; and if French blood is spilt, every drop shall recoil on his head.” Pritchard was afterwards released from prison, but expelled the island, and, on arriving in England, created a ferment of public indignation on the subject of his wrongs. The Government of Sir Robert Peel demanded satisfaction of France for the gross outrage which had been committed on a British subject; and both the King and M. Guizot were willing that this should be done. But it is no easy matter to be simply just on such an occasion. Every Government must take some account of the sentiment existing amongst its population, and France just then was in a state of fiery wrath against England. Nevertheless, the matter was arranged after an interval of some months. On the last day of the session (September 5th) Sir Robert Peel announced that the French Ministry had agreed to compensate Pritchard for his sufferings and losses. Queen Pomare was allowed, as a matter of form, to enjoy the Royal dignity; but the French were the actual masters of the island. The termination of the affair was not altogether satisfactory, for Queen Pomare had long been our faithful ally, and, when coerced by the French, had written a touching letter to the English Queen, in which she said, “Do not cast me away, my friend. I run to you for refuge, to be covered under your great shadow; the same that afforded relief to my fathers by your fathers, who are now dead, and whose kingdoms have descended to us, the weaker vessels.” To have taken up the cause of Queen Pomare, however, would in all probability have led to hostilities between England and France; and Queen Victoria, therefore, could do nothing for the assistance of this poor barbarian.

Before the settlement of this burning question, her Majesty had, on the 6th of August, given birth to a second son at Windsor Castle. The Royal child was afterwards christened Alfred, but is better known to the present generation as the Duke of Edinburgh. Writing to King Leopold shortly after her confinement, the Queen said:—“The only thing, almost, to mar our happiness is the heavy and threatening cloud which hangs over our relations with France, and which, I assure you, distresses and alarms us sadly. The whole nation here are very angry.... God grant all may come right, and I am still of good cheer; but the French keep us constantly in hot water.” On the 27th of August her Majesty again wrote to the Belgian sovereign:—“The impending political cloud, I hope, looks less black and lowering. But I think it very unwise in Guizot not to have at once discovered D’Aubigny for what you yourself call an ‘outrage,’ instead of allowing it to drag on for four weeks, and letting our people get excited.” After the matter had been settled, the Queen remarked that they must try to prevent such difficulties in the future;

THE MARBLE HALL, BUCKINGHAM PALACE.

but this, unfortunately, is impossible while nations are so apt to set up a false standard of honour in the place of justice.

One of the pacific successes of the Peel Administration was the conclusion of the Ashburton Treaty with the Government of the United States. A good deal of mutual irritation had existed for several years, owing to the absence of a distinct and undisputed boundary between Canada and the State of Maine. The matter had at one time been referred to the arbitration of the King of the Netherlands; but neither party would accept his award. Sir Robert Peel, therefore, sent out a special negotiator in the person of Lord Ashburton, a member of the great commercial family of the Barings. The American representative was the Secretary of State, Mr. Webster—a man of the highest ability, both as an orator and a statesman; and, after much discussion, a treaty was signed at Washington on the 9th of August, 1842. The boundary thus established was said to give England a better military frontier than she had

THE QUEEN AND THE REAPERS AT BLAIR CASTLE. (See p. 171.)

possessed before, and it certainly included some heights commanding the St. Lawrence which had not been assigned to us by the King of the Netherlands. The conclusion of this treaty was announced to Parliament at the opening of the session of 1843, and Sir Robert Peel claimed credit for having brought about so favourable an adjustment. This, however, was not the view entertained by the Opposition; and Lord Palmerston, in calling the attention of the House of Commons to the treaty, on the 21st of March, 1843, described it as “the Ashburton capitulation.” Undoubtedly, the larger part of the disputed territory was handed over to the United States, and it has since been generally considered by Englishmen that Mr. Webster demanded and obtained more than his country was entitled to. Some other clauses of the treaty were excellent. Provision was made for the better suppression of the slave traffic, and it was agreed that each country should render up to the other certain classes of criminals against whom a sufficient case should be established by due legal process. Lord Palmerston could never tolerate the Ashburton Treaty so far as the territorial rearrangement was concerned. He thought it would be productive of many evil consequences; but it was high time that a vexatious question, creating a certain amount of ill-will, should be brought to a final settlement. The Ashburton Treaty was perhaps the best that could be effected, and Englishmen have long ceased to consider its details.