LETTER VIII.
THE INTERNATIONAL EXHIBITION—THE QUEEN—PRINCE ARTHUR—ENGLISH POLITICS—THE TURNING TIDE IN THE AMERICAN WAR.
TO be in London, and not to have been at the International Exhibition, will, I fear, be held at Sydney a reflection on the intelligence of your correspondent As truth is a precious thing, however, in this nineteenth century, especially in a confession that narrows the range of one's knowledge, I must frankly acknowledge I have not yet seen what so many Australian colonists have come so far to see. In what degree this is to be attributed to a perverseness of nature—for I never was fond of running with the stream—it would not, perhaps, be safe for me to say. When the wonderment of the Japanese ambassadors and the Honorables from the Antipodes is over, I may go and see the glories which the genius and skill of mankind have garnered up for everybody at South Kensington, and which will lose none of their lustre by being left till the illustrious have passed on. In the meantime you will be amply supplied with descriptions of the Exhibition. In England we have these descriptions morning after morning till the mind is appalled by the frightful capacity of the writers. Nevertheless, I much fear the Exhibition will prove a signal failure in attracting visitors in numbers corresponding to the magnitude of the preparations of Art and Science. On arriving in London lately, I was surprised to find so little change in the public thoroughfares; a few more Frenchmen was all that was noticeable in the street crowds, and those neat little pasteboard indicators, which in every alternate window invite you to "furnished apartments," were as plentiful as ever.
It was a sorrowful thing to see the Royal widow of him who took such pride in this Exhibition, rushing away in her grief to the farthest spot at her command from its inaugural ceremonies. I was at Stafford on the 30th of April, and had occasion to leave by the night mail. The new station at Stafford is, I believe, the finest "roadside station" in England, and when I arrived, about eleven o'clock, the spacious platforms, usually all life and commotion, had a strange appearance of quiet and caution. Railway porters were standing at intervals, with lanterns and all the attaches of the station, the clerks from the ticket-office, and the young waitresses from the refreshment-rooms, were looking on in evident expectation of some event, though no one seemed to speak, and everybody looked sad at heart There were not half-a-dozen other persons in the great station: I was only admitted on explaining that I wished to go by the mail train. All at once I recollected that Queen Victoria was to pass through Stafford that night, on her way to her Highland home, and in a minute after the pilot engine, twenty minutes in advance of the royal train, hurried past Still those midnight gazers kept their places, with silent lips and fixed eyes, till at the given time the royal carriages also hurried past. Then all walked silently away.
The train in which the Queen travelled consisted of seven or eight carriages. I should think the speed was about thirty-five miles an hour. The distance from Windsor to Balmoral is nearly six hundred miles. The carriages, as we learn from the newspapers, were fitted up with beds and every convenience for the comfort of the travellers.
It may be interesting to some of your readers to hear of another Royal traveller to Balmoral. Two days ago I was leaving Bristol by the Midland railway, when a rumour reached the passengers that Prince Arthur was to be their fellow-traveller. In a few minutes a fine little boy, in a plain round jacket and cap, stepped smartly along the platform accompanied by three or four gentlemen, and took his seat in a saloon carriage in the centre of the train. I suppose the telegraph spread the news, for when we got to Berkeley a little crowd of country people were straining their eyes to . catch a sight of the Prince, and the instant the train stopped at Gloucester fifty or sixty people surrounded his carriage.
I had to leave the train at Gloucester, so I pushed in among the rest to see Prince Arthur, The side of the carriage being principally plate glass, he could be well seen. His only companion was a gentleman, who appeared intent upon a book from which he never raised his eyes. The young Prince sat on the far side, and kept constantly leaning forward and raising his head as if to see the most of that portion of his mother's free subjects who unceremoniously stared at him. He seemed to think there was some fun in it, and could hardly restrain himself from laughing at times. He does not look older than he is—twelve years; he has brown hair, fair complexion, and large restless eyes. After all, as one good old lady observed, "he is very much like other little boy&"
In the political world the champion Disraeli is buckling on his armour. Twice recently he has bitterly assailed Mr. Gladstone's management of the finances, and has cleverly struck upon the sympathies of the Parliamentary economists by declaring against a war expenditure in the time of peace. Lord Palmerston's Government exists by a support in the House of Commons which may crumble away at any moment. The financial reformers and radicals who sit below the Ministerial gangway are all in a state of disaffection, the Irish members for the most part are savagely hostile, while a party of men sit round Mr. Disraeli, perhaps the most compact of any in Parliament by their political sympathies and social intercourse. 'The rope of opposition is a strong one, but it is badly twisted, and the weakness of the third strand is notoriously the personal dislike of the men for their chief. Stilt less is Mr. Disraeli in favour with the other malcontents, and it is the difficulty of reconciling with conscience any step that would accelerate his accession to power which often constrains their unwilling votes for the Government But a change is coming, and Benjamin Disraeli, in spite of personal dislikes, will again be the acknowledged leader of the men of great families in the House of Commons.
The opponents of Church-rates have lost their cause for the session in the House of Commons by one vote. The Morning Star argues that the defeat is to be ascribed to the citizens of London, who elected Mr. Western Wood, an avowed supporter of church-rates, in the place of Lord John Russell, a convert to their abolition. But the truth is rather to be found in the low ebb of the political life-current when public men live in daily distrust of their own' opinions and are facile in finding excuses for neglect of duty. It is useless to attempt disguising the fact, the great bulk of the English nation cares nothing about politics in the abstract, or what is called political principle. The Nonconformist party are sincere enough in their opposition to church-rates; the extreme free-traders are undeniably in earnest in their projects of public economy and commercial freedom; other men have their hobbies, which they ride with enthusiasm. But both the people out of doors and members of Parliament evince something like the dying-out of the inflexibility and the strong fire of past times. It is not a dying-out, however, as will be seen some of these days.
The feeling on the civil war in America is not the least perplexing manifestation of these times. So long as victory attended the rebellious slave-holders, sympathy for their cause was too active to be concealed amongst certain classes here, as well among the new families who have risen to social position by trade, as among the old Conservative proprietors. Some would argue the question in a thin disguise; the republic was too large and unwieldy for one state; the natural divisions of the country, and the distinctive characters of North and South marked them out to be separated. Others would tell you outright that the insolence of the Yankees ought to be curbed, and the offences committed in a special manner by the Southerners would be sure to be all fathered on the Northerners. But now the old North has gathered up her strength, and is advancing upon the rebels with crushing steps. Never in the history of the world was called forth in so short a time an army so powerful and so highly organised, under generals so brave and so skilful, as that which is now fast replanting the flag of the Republic in the rebel States. Still the one-sided haters of democracy in England, who could see such martial splendour in the first successes of the South, can discover nothing great in the men who, with such noble firmness and such glorious self-sacrifice, are successfully defending the Constitution handed down to them by Washington. The failure of democracy proved by this terrible civil war! Why, it has proved, as only such a tremendous crisis could prove, the vital strength of democratic institutions. What monarchy ever rose up from the lap of Peace to confront so monstrous a disorder, and to suppress it with so strong a hand and with such patriotic unanimity?
London, May 24, 1862.