PALMERSTON FOREIGN SECRETARY, JULY, 1846, TO DECEMBER, 1850.

WE now come to Lord Palmerston’s third period at the Foreign Office, which lasted from July, 1846, to December, 1851, but which we shall find it better to divide into three chapters than to comprise it in one, because it includes the romantic affair of Don Pacifico, which, by the attempts made and the success achieved, will deserve a chapter to itself. The coup d’état and his dismissal will demand a third. We will therefore take Lord Palmerston’s life at the Foreign Office down to the year 1850, when the great Don Pacifico debate took place. There were in the meantime various circumstances, all at the moment of intense national interest, with which he was either specially concerned as Foreign Secretary, or much concerned as a leading Cabinet Minister. The chief among these were the Spanish marriages, Lord Minto’s mission to Italy, the French Revolution and escape to England of Louis Philippe, the first war between Austria and Sardinia, the French occupation of Rome, and the wars in Hungary. With the minor operations of his official life it is impossible for us here to deal.

When he got back to office, there had arisen a question as to the expulsion of the Jesuits from{90} certain Swiss cantons; but I do not know that the English reader will care much now about the Jesuits in Switzerland. Nor are we specially anxious as to the civil war which was then carried on in Portugal. But the knot in European politics known as the Spanish marriages had then an importance, and has since achieved results, which make it necessary that we should not altogether pass it over in any record, however short, of Lord Palmerston’s life. But for those Spanish marriages Louis Philippe’s heirs might still have sat upon the throne of France, and the name of king would not be altogether disgraced in the realm over which Henry IV. had ruled. No prophecy shall be ventured upon here as to the future of the French nation; but it is, I think, notorious to the world at large that the last blow given to the Bourbon family, in the opinion of Frenchmen, came from the Spanish marriages.

I cannot but here remark that, strong, abiding, and consistent as was Lord Palmerston’s conduct in reference to these transactions, and assuredly as the disgrace would have been prevented could it have been staved off by our English Minister, he does not seem to speak of the foul political arrangements which were contemplated and carried out, with that disgust which they must have engendered in the mind of every honest and high-minded gentleman. But here we must remember that Lord Palmerston, as English Foreign Secretary, accustomed as he was to speak his mind freely, could not speak out quite plainly; and that of all that he did say we probably do not possess the whole. But the consequence is that up to this date men speak of the Spanish marriages as having been tolerable in politics though bad in morals, and as projects which should consign the inventors to{91} no perdition, because they dealt, not with private, but with public matters. To us it has seemed that the evil intended, and in a great degree consummated, was of such a nature as to deserve all the stigma which a private iniquity could bear. The Spanish marriages are withdrawn from the comparatively easy regions of national conscience by the intensity of private desire for aggrandisement, by the private nature of the precautions taken, and by the private evil accomplished.

Now, I must tell the story with as little matter of annoyance as may be possible. It has already been told in Lord Palmerston’s life, and so often before and since, that there can be no other reason for silence but the abomination of the tale to be told. It is, however, impossible to produce aright a memoir of Lord Palmerston’s life without telling it. When kings and their councillors do amiss it is by no means the least of the evil done that their doings must be made public and explained.

It had become to be important to us and other nations that the thrones of France and Spain should be kept distinct, so that no French prince might come to sit upon the throne of Spain. As there were now two Spanish princesses,—Isabella, who was the Queen, and her sister, who at the moment was her heir,—Louis Philippe was required to engage, and did distinctly bind himself, that no son of his should marry Isabella, and also that no son of his should marry the sister till the Queen should have become a mother. Having bound himself by this undertaking the King’s first endeavour was, to use an English phrase, to drive a coach and horses through it. He determined that a son of his, or at any rate a grandchild, should sit upon the{92} throne of Spain, and presuming, as we must surmise, that he found his opportunity in the comparative weakness of Lord Aberdeen, he set to work to make such arrangements as might be practicable. Palmerston had declared in 1836, when Isabella was about five years old, that it would be so. “The fact is that he,”—Louis Philippe,—“is as ambitious as Louis XIV., and wants to put one of his sons on the throne of Spain as husband to the young Queen.” But since then the young lady had grown to what in Spain is a marriageable age, and the young Prince who was to become the link between the thrones was twenty-two.

The King of the French did not see his way to break the engagement by running counter to its first clause. He could not marry his son to the young Queen. He might marry his son to the Queen’s sister, as soon as that sister had a child. But that clause he did manage to break; and on the day on which the Queen was married, the Duke de Montpensier was married to the Princess. This was wrong, and false, and mischievous,—likely to lead to quarrels and wars, and unlikely to lead to increased power and dominion for any king or prince. But it was a trick within the compass of certain kings and certain ministers, and was not unroyal in all its bearings. Louis Philippe, however, was not contented with this. He went farther, and selected the Prince who was to marry the Queen. There was a Prince, unfortunate, as the minds of men go, but hitherto not disgraced,—a poor man who could never become the father of children. He it was whom Louis Philippe selected, with the assistance and guidance of Guizot, in the absolute ignorance, I do not hesitate to say, of Lord Aberdeen.{93}

Such were the Spanish marriages. The fruits of them, as might have been guessed, were disastrous. The Queen, at any rate, had children, on whose royal birth no slur was openly thrown. The Duke de Montpensier lives as an unknown nobleman in a foreign land, to whose name there clings something of the flavour of his father’s deeds. M. Guizot, who was the great Minister of the day, a man of high intellect, of thoughtful habits, of religious feeling, and a Protestant, tarnished his name for ever. And Louis Philippe ran from France as an exile, taking refuge in England under the name of Mr. Smith. And here he died! The marriages were perpetrated! But with what results to all who were concerned in them! It may be doubted whether any meaner crime was ever committed in the name of policy, or one of which the end was more befitting, or better deserved.

The effect which this produced in Europe took eighteen months to show itself. The marriages were solemnized in the autumn of 1846, and Louis Philippe came to England and took up his abode at Claremont in the spring of 1848. All his fine machinations had been blown like soap-bubbles into air! The result of the marriages upon English feeling, and upon Lord Palmerston, who was the one Englishman more concerned than others, was that of distinct alienation. It afforded matter but for few speeches in the House of Commons, and not much for private correspondence, as it was done in secret, and the wickedness of the arrangements could only creep out by slow degrees. Men at the time used to whisper to each other that it was so, and men who received the whisper declined to believe the story in all its foul enormity. Now it{94} has become a matter of history, and there is no ordinary reader who does not know of what nature were the Spanish marriages. But Guizot is said at the time to have become so lost to all decent feeling, so warped and stung by the constant interference which he had received from Lord Palmerston, as to have boasted that the political arrangement made was the one great thing which France had herself achieved, unaided, since 1830!

It effected the entire break-up of the concert which had existed between the great Powers of Europe, and clearly led to all the revolutions and disturbances of 1848. England and France were severed, and by their division Austria, Prussia and Russia were encouraged to expect to have their way. A further appropriation of Poland was intended, and was effected; but we find Palmerston endeavouring to prevent it. He writes to Lord Normanby on the 19th of November, 1846; “I have prepared an answer about Cracow, which I shall send off to Vienna without waiting for Guizot.” “Guizot will make a show of resistance; but the fact is, that, even if France and England had been on good terms, they have no means of action on the spot in question, and could only have prevented the thing by a threat of war, which, however, the three Powers would have known we should never utter for the sake of Cracow. The measure is an abominable shame, and executed by the most hollow pretences and the most groundless assertions.”

In January, 1847, the Queen protested, in her speech from the throne, against this new Polish outrage. Lord Palmerston was evidently nettled to think that he could not interfere so as to prevent it. It was but another scar on the Treaty of Vienna, and{95} he could do nothing. Soon afterwards a French political officer of high standing had been condemned for corruption, and had endeavoured, or pretended to endeavour, to commit suicide. “In either way, these things must be a blow to Guizot and the Philippine system.” The Philippine system was to Palmerston unutterably damnable. It was sly, fraudulent, false, extremely courteous, and thoroughly un-English. But it was secret, clever, and at this moment seemed to be triumphant. It was above all things opposed to Palmerston. We can conceive nothing more bitter than the hatred which at this time raged between the two statesmen. And in speaking of it, we should by no means endeavour to wash Lord Palmerston quite white. It may have been that had the “suaviter in modo” been more customary with him, the “fortiter in re” might have been more apparent. Being an older politician, and, we may say, a much wiser one, he had thought to dominate the Frenchman; but the Frenchman knew himself to possess a brighter intellect, a more brilliant style of eloquence, and, in erudition, to be the greater man. We will concede it to him,—that he was so. But Lord Palmerston possessed two virtues by means of which his name will go down to posterity altogether unsullied. He was brave, and he was honest.

We now come to Lord Minto’s mission to Italy, which had been, we presume, arranged between Lord Palmerston and Lord John Russell. Pio Nono, the late Pope, had been elected in 1846, and Lord Minto started for Italy in November, 1846. We still remember how decided was the Liberalism of the new Pope, when he first filled St. Peter’s chair,—an almost impossible condition for a Pope, and one which he soon vacated. But{96} Lord Minto went to assist him in his Liberalism, to give him such aid as might be possible for an English Liberal Lord, and to find out in return what the new pope could do for England in keeping quiet seditious Irish bishops. “You will be at Rome,” said Lord Palmerston, “not as a minister accredited to the Pope, but as an authentic organ of the British Government, enabled to explain its views and to declare its sentiments upon events which are now passing in Italy.” “Her Majesty’s Government are deeply impressed with the conviction that it is wise for Sovereigns and their Governments to pursue, in the administration of their affairs, a system of progressive improvement; to apply remedies to such evils as, upon examination, they may find to exist, and to re-model, from time to time, the ancient institutions of their country,—so as to render them more suitable to the gradual growth of intelligence, and to the increasing diffusion of political knowledge; and Her Majesty’s Government consider it to be an undeniable truth, that if an independent Sovereign, in the exercise of his deliberate judgment, shall think fit to make within his dominions such improvements in the laws and institutions of his country as he may think conducive to the welfare of his people, no other Government can have any right to attempt to restrain or to interfere with such an employment of one of the inherent attributes of independent sovereignty.”

We cannot but observe here the way in which Lord Palmerston lays down the law for the governance of the nations generally. No doubt he was right in what he said; but he said it with the air of some superior being, whose word is to go for more than the words of other mortals. Lord Minto does not go at once{97} to Rome, but stays awhile at Turin, where the Austrians have shown a desire to interfere with Charles Albert, the father of Victor Emanuel. It is to be hoped that the Ambassador Extraordinary knew the phraseology of the hunting-field as well as did his correspondent. If so, he would understand when he was told that, “As to the Austrians they have been headed, and will not break cover towards Italy.” Then Palmerston explains that, for having stopped the Austrians, the Pope ought to do him a good turn, in silencing a meddlesome bishop or two. Alas, that an opinion so absurd should ever have been held in regard to Pio Nono! “We wish to make the Pope the plain, and simple, and reasonable request that he will exert his authority over the Irish priesthood, to induce them to abstain from meddling in politics, but, on the contrary, to confine themselves to their spiritual duties.” “I shall be able to send you by the next messenger, a memorandum about the letter which has recently been received by McHale, from Rome, upon the subject of the Irish colleges. This is an unkind and most mischievous measure, and was little to be expected at the hands of the Pope at the very moment we were stepping out of our way to be of use to him. It is an ungrateful return.” And a little further on he writes to his correspondent; “You may confidently assure the Papal authorities that at present in Ireland, misconduct is the rule, and good conduct the exception, in the Catholic priests.”

Of course it would be so, human nature being the same with Roman Catholics as with Protestants. Had we paid the priests, as we paid, and still pay, the parsons, out of the funds collected by the Government, the priests would have worked for the Government. To expect that they{98} should do so under other circumstances is to dream of a Utopia. But to imagine that assistance could be got from the Pope to induce the priests to do so, was beyond any Utopian dream. There was a notion afloat at the time that the Pope should send an ambassador to London to carry out the liberal views with which he was supposed to have been imbued. But to this Lord Palmerston will give no assent. “As for the idea that we could manage the Irish priests by means of a Roman priest in London, I am convinced that the presence of such a man would only have given the Irish priests an additional means of managing us.” Lord Minto writes back word that “The Pope is a most amiable, agreeable, and honest man, and sincerely pious to boot, which is much for a Pope; but he is not made to drive the State coach.”

The honesty and piety of Pio Nono must be judged from his whole career. Certainly Lord Minto could not teach him the political state of Europe. “As to the poor Pope,” says Lord Palmerston, writing back to Lord Minto, “I live in daily dread of some misadventure having befallen him. Events have gone too fast for such a slow sailer as he is.” Then he speaks of the deposition of Guizot’s ministry in Paris—for Guizot had been deposed. “What has been happening in Italy ought to have been a warning to Guizot. What has now happened to Guizot ought to be a warning to Italy. Guizot thought that by a packed Parliament and a corruptly-obtained majority, he could control the will of the nation, and the result has been that the will of the Crown has been controlled by an armed popular force. People have long gone on crying up Louis Philippe as the wisest of men. I always have thought him one of the most cunning, and therefore not one of the wisest. Recent events have shown that{99} he must rank among the cunning, who outwit themselves; and not among the wise, who master events by foresight and prudence. This surrender of the King of the Barricades to the commons of the National Guard is, however, a curious example of political and poetical justice.” This was in 1848, when all Europe was on the stir. “Was there ever such a scene of confusion as now prevails almost all over Europe? Fortunate, however, has it been for Italy that you crossed the Alps last autumn. If the Italian sovereigns had not been urged by you to move on, while their impatient subjects were kept back, there would by this time have been nothing but Republics from the Alps to Sicily.” Then he ventures on a prophecy which has become absolutely true in later years. “We have just heard of the entrance of Sardinian troops into Lombardy to help the Milanese. Northern Italy will henceforth be Italian, and the Austrian frontier will be at the Tyrol. This will be no real loss to Austria.” His dislike to Austria and Metternich is only second to his hatred for Louis Philippe and Guizot. France itself he did not hate, or even dislike—or, rather, liked as well as he could any country except England. He says that Austria after such losses may, if well governed, become a powerful State. But he adds: “The question is, Has she any men capable of making any State a powerful one by good government.”

There had in the meantime sprung up a revolution in Sicily against Naples, and Lord Minto had gone on to Naples, and into the Sicilian waters, attempting to put it down. But it was not put down till 1849, when the seditious efforts of the previous year were nearly quelled throughout Europe. So Lord Minto returned home, having not apparently done much, but{100} having brought with him more correct views of the Italian people than English Ministers had hitherto possessed.

Early in 1848 there came upon France that thorough disturbance of all things which has never yet quite rectified itself. Indeed, it may be said that there has been nearly a century of disturbance, during which, however, France has grown wonderfully in wealth and intelligence. But in 1830 France had once more re-established herself, and the Citizen King was put upon his throne as a thing of permanence and a just mixture of monarchical principles with democratic ideas. It must be acknowledged of Louis Philippe, as also of Napoleon III., that France did grow rich under him. But in both cases the riches came “post hoc” and not “propter hoc.” According to our thinking, neither the one ruler nor the other could have benefited his people much, because neither of them was simple in his way of ruling. Louis Napoleon was yet to come, but Louis Philippe had now brought himself and his administration to an end.

There had been a great demand for reforms in Paris and the King had expressed himself strongly. “I never will consent to reform,” he had exclaimed. “Reform is another word for the advent of the Opposition.” “Tell your master not to mind having popular assemblies,” is quoted by Lord Normanby as said by Louis Philippe to some foreign ambassador. “Let them only learn to manage things as I manage mine.” The dismissal of Guizot, the Minister, was demanded among other things. Guizot had stood high for personal integrity;—and we believe that he was perfectly honest; but he got into various troubles in which he consented to the expenditure{101} of public money to satisfy the rapacity of others; and, though he was honest himself, he seems to have dealt easily with dishonesty in his subordinates. But Louis Philippe felt that to lose Guizot was to own himself beaten, and clung to his Minister. Then came the proposition for a popular banquet, and the stopping of the banquet by the police, but with permission given for a procession; and then the stopping of the procession; and then the catastrophe. Louis Philippe, with his family, ran away, and in a few days appeared as Mr. Smith on the coast of Sussex, at Newhaven.

On the 26th of February Lord Palmerston thus writes to Lord Normanby; “What extraordinary and marvellous events you give me an account of. It is like the five acts of a play, and has not taken up much more time. Strange that a king who owed his crown to a revolution, brought about by royal blindness and obstinacy, should have lost it by exactly the same means, and he a man who had gone through all the vicissitudes of human existence, from the condition of a schoolmaster to the pomp of a throne; and still further that his overthrow should have been assisted by a Minister deeply read in the records of history, and whose mind was not merely stored with the chronology of historical facts, but had extracted from their mass the lessons of events and the philosophy of their causes.” And then he gives instructions as to what shall be done by the English Ambassador in Paris. “Our principles of action are to acknowledge whatever rule may be established with apparent prospect of permanency, but none other.” “We will engage to prevent the rest of Europe from meddling with France, which, indeed, we are quite sure they have no intention of doing. The French rulers{102} must engage to prevent France from assailing any part of the rest of Europe.” Then he goes on to lay down rules for different emergencies. What shall be done if the Revolution endeavours to protect itself by using the army for foreign conquest? But his heart beats warmly for his own child. “We cannot sit quiet and see Belgium overrun and Antwerp become a French port.” “If they will look to the stipulations of the treaty finally concluded between the five Powers, Belgium, and the Netherlands, they will see that there are in it guarantees which would have a very awkward bearing upon any attempt by France to annex Belgium to its territory.” He expresses his own feelings on the whole matter; “I grieve at the prospect of a Republic in France, for I fear it must lead to war in Europe and fresh agitation in England. Large Republics seem to be essentially and inherently aggressive, and the aggressions of the French will be resisted by the rest of Europe, and that is war; while, on the other hand, the example of universal suffrage in France will set our non-voting population agog, and will create a demand for an inconvenient extension of the franchise, ballot, and other mischievous things. However, for the present, ‘Vive Lamartine!’” Lamartine was the provisional President of the New Republic, and while he remained in office did behave with a better grace than could have been expected from a man so abnormally situated.

“Here is a pretty to do at Paris,” he says a few days later on in a letter to Lord Ponsonby at Vienna. “It is plain that, for the present at least, we shall have a Republic in France. How long it may last is another question. But for the present the only chance for tranquillity and order in France, and for peace in Europe,{103} is to give support to Lamartine. I am convinced this French Government will not be aggressive if left alone. But if the Austrian Government does not mitigate its system of coercion in Lombardy and grant liberal institutions, they will have a revolt there.” Our British difficulty at the moment arose chiefly from the advantage endeavoured to be taken by the Irish of the French revolutionary spirit. When all Europe was in revolt Ireland, of course, would not remain calm. Smith O’Brien with various deputations was at once in Paris. “I have written to you,” says Lord Palmerston to Lord Normanby, “an official despatch about M. De Lamartine’s allocutions to Irish despatches and his direct allusions therein to our internal affairs, such as Catholic Emancipation, Irish agitation, Repeal of the union, and other matters, with which no foreign Government had any right to meddle. I wish you to convey to him, in terms as civil as you can use, that these speeches, and especially that to which my despatch refers, have given great offence in this country.” It does not appear to have occurred to him how often he himself was interfering in the foreign affairs of other countries. But Lamartine seems to have taken the observations in good part. “Pray tell Lamartine,” he says, “how very much obliged we feel for his handsome and friendly conduct about the Irish deputations.”

The amount of business which fell on to his shoulders at this time may be well imagined, and yet he was now sixty-four years old. “As to your not always getting letters from me by every messenger who passes through Paris, never wonder at that, nor think it extraordinary.” This is still to Lord Normanby. “Wonder rather when I am able to find time at all. I am sure you would if you{104} saw the avalanches of despatches from every part of the world which come down upon me daily, and which must be read, and if you witnessed the number of interviews which I cannot avoid giving every day of the week. Every post sends me a lamenting minister throwing himself and his country upon England for help, which I am obliged to tell him we cannot afford him. But Belgium is a case by itself, and both France and England are bound by treaty engagements in regard to that country, which it is most desirable for the repose of France and England that no events should call into active operation.” Then he sends word to our Ambassador at St. Petersburg as to what may there be expected of England in reference to certain Polish difficulties which have cropped up. “We, the Government, will never do anything underhand or ungentlemanlike in these matters. I wish we could hope that the Emperor might of his own accord settle the Polish question in some satisfactory manner.” Then there is an allusion to the one burlesque English incident which graced the Revolution. “I conclude that he”—he is Lamartine—“has escaped one danger by the refusal to naturalize Brougham; for it is evident that our ex-Chancellor meant, if he got himself elected, to have put up for being President of the Republic.”

In 1848, as a part of the European disturbance, the Chartist rows came up in London, affording the most signal evidence that up to that time at least the spirit of democratic enmity to order was not at work in England. Nor, according to such evidence as we possess, is it so now,—though at this moment, 1882, it is rampant in Ireland. The question was one with which Lord Palmerston had not much immediate concern. But, alluding to his branch of politics, he writes with his usual{105} vivacity. “The foreigners did not show; but the constables, regular and special, had sworn to make an example of any whiskered and bearded rioters whom they might meet with, and I am convinced would have mashed them to a jelly.”

Then he interested himself very strongly in the attempt which was made in 1848 to banish the Austrians from the North of Italy. “Things have gone much too far to admit of the possibility of any future connection between the Italians and Austria.” And again, “I certainly agree with you and your Austrian friend that Austria would be much better out of Italy than in it. Italy can never now be a useful possession for Austria.” And again, “On the whole, the conclusion to which I should come is, that the cheapest, best, and wisest thing which Austria can do, is to give up her Italian possessions quietly and at once, and to direct her attention and energy to organizing the remainder of her coast territories, and to cement them together, and to develop their abundant resources;”—to induce the Austrians to abandon their Austrian possessions as a matter of pure policy. “But to do this there ought to be some able men at the head of affairs, and our doubt is whether there are any such now in office. First and foremost, what is the animal implumis bipes, called Emperor? A perfect nullity; next thing to an idiot.” Then he discusses the practicability of an abdication, or rather two abdications, with a wisdom and foresight to which events have given their ample testimony. Francis Joseph, the Emperor of to-day, was, after a while, elected in place of his uncle, and has since reigned, through many troubles, with good sense and moderation.

“How can an empire stand in these days without an{106} emperor at its head? And by an emperor, I mean a man endowed with intellectual faculties suited to his high station.” And again, “I fear that his next brother is little better than he is; but could not the son of that brother be called to the succession?” But it is remarkable that this is all written to our ambassador at Vienna, and is written as advice to be given to an Austrian Minister. “Pray then, tell Wessemberg from me, but in the strictest confidence, that I would entreat of him and his colleagues to consider, for the salvation of their country, whether some arrangement could not be made by which the Emperor might abdicate.” Can we imagine any foreign minister recommending to an English statesman the abdication of a British sovereign? In this case, no doubt, the abdication had been previously discussed; but still the audacity, necessary for such advice from an Englishman, was very great. Fighting, however, in the meantime, was going on, and Radetsky, on the part of Austria, was victorious at Milan. France and England joined to assist Sardinia by their moral weight, and an armistice was concluded.

But Palmerston will not give up his points. “The real fact is that the Austrians have no business in Italy at all, and have no real right to be there.” This he writes to Lord Ponsonby at Vienna, and says very evil things of the Austrian mode of governing. “The only Austrians have been the troops, and the civil officers. She has governed it as you govern a garrison town, and her rule has always been hateful.” Then he expresses his strong resentment against attempts which have been made from Vienna, or which he thinks have been made, to influence the English Court. “I quite understand the drift and meaning of Prince Windischgr?tz’s message to our Queen; but pray{107} make the Camarilla understand that, in a constitutional country like England, these things cannot answer; and that a foreign Government, which places its reliance upon working upon the Court against the Government of this country, is sure to be disappointed.” But in his strong feeling against Austria and in favour of Italy, in his passionate dislike to the Austrian mode of government, and his strong love for that which he believed would be the Italian mode of government in Italy, he runs into some absurdities which are contradicted in the same letter. “Providence,” he says, “meant mankind to be divided into separate nations, and for this purpose countries have been founded by natural barriers, and races of men have been distinguished by separate languages, habits, manners, dispositions, and characters.” Then he goes on; “North of the Alps, we wish her”—that is Austria—“all the prosperity and success in the world;” though the Austrian and the Hungarian are also distinguished by separate language, habits, and manners. But for the moment the contest was brought to an end by the victory of Austria, and ten years had to pass by before Lord Palmerston saw all his hopes for Italy realized by the unification of the country under the Sardinian crown.

Before the close of the Session in 1849 Mr. Disraeli brought on a vote of want of confidence in the Government. Lord Palmerston writes thus to his brother; “After all the trumpetings of attacks that were to demolish first one and then another member of the Government—first me, then Grey, then Charles Wood—we have come triumphantly out of all debates and divisions, and end the Session, stronger than we began it. Our division this morning, on Disraeli’s motion ‘On{108} the State of the Nation,’ was 296 to 156—a majority of 140.” And in the House of Lords, Lord Brougham fared no better. “Sicily, Lombardy and Rome will be the main topics on which Brougham, Stanley and Aberdeen—the three witches who have filled the cauldron—will dilate.” France had at this time “occupied” Rome. “The questions which will naturally be asked are; In what character has the French army taken possession of Rome? Is it as conquerors of a city to be added to France? Of course not; that answer is easily given. Is it, then, as friends of the Pope, or as friends of the Roman people?” It was a question which would naturally be asked. But the French had taken possession of Rome to guard it equally from the Pope and from the people. The above was written on the 16th July, 1849. On the previous 24th of November the Pope had escaped from Rome in disguise, and had got as far as Gaeta on his way to Majorca. He did not go further on that journey, and there we may leave him, remarking that it was less than thirty months since he had received as a reforming Pope professions of universal affection from the Roman people.

Lord Palmerston feels himself compelled to ask hypothetical questions of the French Government, and to put hypothetical answers into its mouth. We can see that he is in truth jealous that there is a European pie in which he is not allowed to have a finger. But there is not a word in what he says in which an ordinary Englishman does not sympathize. “There are mutually repellent properties between a reasoning people and an elective priestly Government.” “The Roman people will ere long reply by saying; We are no longer Papists;{109} take your Pope and give him as sovereign to those who are Papists still. The Reformation in Europe was as much a movement to shake off political oppression as it was to give freedom to religious conscience, and similar causes are apt to produce similar effects.” Then there has come an attack upon him as Foreign Minister from Lord Aberdeen, whom he takes an opportunity of “paying off,” as he calls it. He does pay him off—with great severity, with good thorough-going abuse, which is, however, altogether parliamentary. The entire speech is too long to be given here with the necessary explanations. But he winds up as follows; “I will only say that the conduct of such men is an example of antiquated imbecility.” The “such men” is, of course, Lord Aberdeen. The next day, no doubt, he would have been on excellent terms with Lord Aberdeen had he met him.

Then, still in 1849, there is a difficulty as to the amount of assistance to be given to Turkey in holding her own against Austria and Russia. The Hungarian conflict had come on, in which Hungary had endeavoured to maintain her own kingdom and her own government, as separated from that of Austria. The Hungarians were willing that the Emperor of Austria should be King of Hungary, but refused to assent to any other joining of the two countries. Here again Palmerston had not his fingers very deep in the pie. How far he may have been restrained by colleagues in his Cabinet, we do not know; but we do remember how, when Austria was hard pressed by her rebels, she was assisted by Russia; and we do know, also, how ungratefully Austria behaved on the occasion. But when the Hungarians were beaten, some of their leaders, and Kossuth{110} among them, escaped into Turkey. Then Russia and Austria demanded the extradition of these rebels, and the Sultan was encouraged to withhold them by Sir Stratford Canning, who now first comes forward as the great friend of the Porte.

Lord Palmerston also warmly takes the part of the Turks, and will not allow the men to be surrendered. It is this affair which gives the chief interest to the autumn of 1849. He writes on the matter very hotly to Lord Ponsonby. “As to working upon their feelings of generosity and gentlemanlikeness”—the feelings of the Austrians—“that is out of the question, because such feelings exist not in a set of officials who have been trained up in the school of Metternich, and the men in whose minds such inborn feelings have not been crushed by Court and office power, have been studiously excluded from public affairs, and can only blush in private for the disgrace which such things throw upon their country. But I do hope that you will not fail constantly to bear in mind the country and the Government which you represent, and that you will maintain the dignity and honour of England by expressing openly and decidedly the disgust which such proceedings excite in the public mind in this country.” It is evident that he had heard something of which he does not approve in Lord Ponsonby’s mode of thinking. “The remedy against these various dangers, which are rapidly undermining the Austrian Empire, would be generous conciliation; but instead of that, the Austrian Government knows no method of administration but what consists in flogging, imprisoning, and shooting. The Austrians know no argument but force.” The two fleets (the English and the French) were moved up{111} to the Dardanelles. “In this affair we are trying to catch two great fish, and we must wind the reel very gently and dexterously, not to break the line.” This he says to Sir Stratford Canning. He declares to Brunnow, “That our sending our squadron up the Mediterranean was, for the Sultan, like holding a bottle of salts to the nose of a lady who had been frightened.” Of course he has his way, and Turkey is not allowed to give up the Hungarians, though he ascertains in the course of the correspondence that Lord Ponsonby, his own ambassador at Vienna, is opposed to the instructions which he receives. But he reprimands him at last with severity. “I write you this, and desire you to do your best; though I hear from many quarters that you oppose instead of furthering the policy of your Government, and that you openly declare that you disapprove of our course. No diplomatist ought to hold such language as long as he holds his appointment.”