LETTER X.
THE present month was ushered in by the marriage of the Princess Alice to Prince Louis of Hesse, the ceremony being strictly private. The royal bride, after a brief sojourn in the Isle of Wight, left England with her husband for her future home, with the prayers of every English household for her happiness.
The quiet of the Parliamentary session has been a little disturbed by a rather sharp encounter between Lord Palmerston and Mr. Cobden, which filled the benches for two or three successive evenings, and furnished food for the newspapers for nearly a week. The Premier, who a few months ago was anxious to confer a baronetcy on Mr. Cobden for his eminent services to England, now denounced him as one in a "state of blindness and delusion which made him utterly unfit to be listened to by the country as an adviser," and pooh-poohed the French treaty as being mere moonshine in the way of promoting peace, compared to his own dockyards and fortifications. This abuse, however, was not received very cordially by either side of the House, even from Lord Palmerston; and when Mr. Cobden returned to the chaise on a subsequent evening, he was greeted with a deafening cheer. The quarrel is, in so many words, this—Mr. Cobden accuses Lord Palmerston of humbugging Parliament into a war expenditure in a time of peace, and when thousands of the people are starving, and that Lord Palmerston retorts upon Mr. Cobden that his peace principles would be dangerous to the honour and security of the country; the old strife between them, which stood in the way of the Free Trade leader accepting a seat in the present Cabinet, even in company with Mr. Gladstone. In this Parliamentary set-to, the author of the French treaty carried with him most unmistakeably the sympathies of the House, though he assuredly would not have done so, to the same extent, if the attack upon him had been made with a truer appreciation of his great moral weight, and with more tact and prudence. The war spirit in the House of Commons is undeniably predominant
Parliament is now considering the case of Lancashire, and men of all parties look forward to the state of things there, as autumn and winter advance, with the most serious apprehension. In all the great cotton towns, by far the greater part of the operatives are in a state of forced idleness, without bread and without hope, and the danger of absolute ruin to the small mill-owners and other possessors of property is pressing closer and closer. In Blackburn the poor-rate has mounted up to 18s. in the pound, and it is confessed that parishes can no longer support their "paupers." The case of Blackburn may be taken to shew the rapid increase of that destitution. According to the statistics brought forward the other night by Mr. Villiers, the persons receiving relief in Blackburn in the last week in May were 10,000, but in the last week in June they had increased to 11,500. The bill of the Government is simply to apply the principle of the Poor Law of Queen Elizabeth in extreme cases, and to enable parishes that are overburdened with their poor to claim relief from the whole of the Union. There seems a difference of opinion as to the policy of this measure, and some argue in favour of a loan to the distressed parishes, on the security of the future rates, to enable them to tide over their difficulties.
At this juncture a good deal of exasperation has been caused by the introduction of a bill for the prevention of night poaching, the principal provision of which would enable the police to search any person suspected of possessing game. The Conservative member for Oxfordshire, Mr. Henley, has vigorously opposed this measure at all its stages, and the other evening Lord Stanley indignantly reminded the House of the great distress in the North, and warned them that there must be a limit to the patience with which it was borne, and asked what would be said if the last act of the House of Commons, before it rose at such a time, was to pass a law for the protection of game.
The House of Commons has devoted a night to the consideration of the civil war in America, but with no result, and a very small display of wisdom. On the 18th, Mr. W. S. Lindsay brought forward a motion in favour of an immediate offer of mediation, and supported it by a speech that breathed throughout of peaceable intervention. During the day a rumour had been running through London like wildfire, that General M'Clellan was completely routed, and had offered a conditional surrender. The interest attached to the motion on its merits, heightened by that extravagant rumour, sufficed to bring a large crowd of strangers to the House of Commons, so that the police had to keep the doors to the entrance lobby. The Confederate emissary, John Mason, was among the most anxious. He was met at the door by several members, who evidently regarded him with great affection. I thought Mr. Gregory would never let go the old slave-master's hand. I was fortunate or rather unfortunate enough to get one of the thirty seats under the gallery, I naturally expected to hear a stirring debate, but the speeches on both sides were utterly unworthy of a subject so momentous. Mr. Lindsay, whom I had always regarded as a clever man, made one of the dullest and clumsiest speeches I ever heard. The Earl of Derby came into the Peers' seat, just below me, while he was speaking, but he couldn't stand it for more than five minutes. As a specimen of Mr. Lindsay, both of his logic and his ingeniousness, he argued laboriously that the North were not fighting to put down slavery; ignoring altogether that, so far as slavery had to do with the quarrel, it was the South who had broken up the Union for the extension and preservation of slavery, and that the North were simply fighting to preserve the constitution. The speakers on his side were Lord Vane Tempest, Mr. Whiteside, and Mr. Gregory. The speakers against the motion were Mr. Taylor (of Leicester) and Mr. W. E. Forster. Lord Palmerston deprecated any decision by the House on the matter, and contended with much spirit that the Government ought to be left free to act in the way which the course of events might point out The motion was eventually withdrawn.
The House shewed itself in a strange and not very creditable temper during this debate. All the clamour was in favour of the South. Members, lying on their backs, lustily shouted "bosh" during the speeches of Mr. Taylor and Mr. Forster, but the loudest sympathisers evidently shrunk from the responsibility of coming to a decision, and Lord Palmerston's appeal was gladly responded to. My belief is that, if members had voted in accordance with their feelings, Mr. Lindsay's motion would have been carried by a large majority.
Among that numerous body of thinking Englishmen who are strangers to the Universities, and have had their intellectual struggles for the most part outside the ancient walks of learning, there is a feeling of something like awe in approaching for the first time the classic ground of Oxford or Cambridge. There are the halls from which have issued the philosophers and statesmen whose names illumine the brightest hopes of our national history. There still are being nurtured, with the accumulated lore of all ages, the young minds on which the country is to rest for its future glory. Who may say what giants shall arise from the ranks of those favoured sons of fortune who are there trying their strength of soul in the consecrated fields of science! It was with some such feeling as this that I visited Oxford on the 2nd of this month, to see what could be seen of the bearing of the aristocratic youth of England at the Commemoration, Perhaps I was attracted, too, by knowing that the occasion was to be rendered remarkable by the bestowal of the honour of D.C.L. on the veteran Premier of England.
Of course I had heard something of the license given to the undergraduates at the Commemoration. I expected and hoped to see an outburst of the young spirit of the country. Nor did I expect to be charmed overmuch with choiceness and delicacy of expression; but I did expect to see some classic turn given to the latest slang—some freshness of wit infused into the dispensations of popular displeasure. I was hardly prepared to see the youthful lords and squires of England behave more mob-like, in the lowest manifestations of mob turbulence, than the so-called mobs of Manchester or Birmingham; and I confess I was mortified to see the order of gods they had set up for their worship. It came upon me with as much bitterness as surprise to find Jefferson Davis an object of idolatry at Oxford.
As I was making my way through the gay crowds that lined the streets to the Sheldonian Theatre, the incessant discord of the high-blooded saturnalia that reigned within burst out upon my vulgar ears. It was unlike any popular shouting I had ever heard before. More wild and meaningless—more the ebullition of sheer animal spirits. I jostled my way in amidst the crush of black gowns. The ladies were still arriving, but within the next fifteen minutes every seat assigned to them appeared to be filled; and the pink and white and green and orange of their summer dresses made a brave display. Jenny Lind appeared to be the favourite of the gods in the upper gallery. But there were repeated cheers for "the lady in pink," and "the lady in green," and, as often as these discriminating calls were made, there were three cheers for "any other lady." The name of Disraeli brought down a thundering cheer, but Jeff Davis and the Southern States were responded to by a still louder. Here and there in the crowd below some unfortunate visitor could ill conceal amongst the moving trenches the offensive gleam of a white hat; he was at once the object of the most boisterous displeasure. One unhappy barbarian, probably a fresh arrival from Australia, had the audacity to shake his white hat in the teeth of the infuriated young gentlemen. Oh, heavens, what a yell the misguided man brought down] This sort of amusement, unenlivened by a single sharp piece of banter or a single spark of wit, continued for nearly two hours, and all through the storm of hideous noises there were constant groans for an unpopular pro-proctor of the name of West, who, however, as he shewed himself at one of the doors, was more frequently saluted by the diffusive soubriquet of "Washy." At last, I should think to the relief of everybody, the great doors were thrown open, and the organ pealed forth "God save the Queen," accompanied by a thousand mingling voices, as the Vice-Chancellor, with his little following of red-gowned doctors, marched in. Sir Charles Nicholson was among the doctors. The only persons of distinction that I noticed were Mr. Gladstone and Lord Westbury. The persons to receive the honorary degree of D.C.L. on this occasion were, the Brazilian Minister, Lord Palmerston. Sir Edmund Head, Sir James Outram, Sir Roundell Palmer, Dr. Jeremie, Dr. Thomas Watson, Professor Wheatstone, and Henry Taylor the poet The names of Palmerston and Outram were enthusiastically and repeatedly cheered, but the others did not appear to be objects of special favour. As the Vice-Chancellor read out the first name on the list (his Excellency Comm. Francisco Ignacio de Carvalho Moreira) he was interrupted by the aristocratic comment from the gallery, "All that at once!" And the announcement of Henry Taylor's name was followed by the not very complimentary enquiry, "Who is he?" I felt myself somewhat honoured by being permitted to inform a veritable Master of Arts that Henry Taylor was the author of "Philip Van Artevelde."
I think I never saw so glorious-looking a man as Henry Taylor. His head is large and finely formed, with massy silvery hair, a long waving lock in front being quite golden. His forehead is broad and lofty, his eyes full, his cheeks inclining to florid. The lower part of his face is covered by a long flowing beard, which similarly befits his noble countenance beaming with an expression of mingled power and benevolence. General Outram, who appeared to be suffering from pain, wears a dark beard, has bushy eyebrows, and, I scarcely need say, a face highly bronzed. Lord Palmerston looked remarkably hale and well: as he brushed past where I was standing I could not help admiring the animal spirits mantling his cheeks—more like the glow of youth than the complexion of fourscore years. He was visibly moved by his reception, I saw him later in the day driving through Oxford, in his red gown, and he seemed as hilarious as a boy of fifteen. One negative evidence of the feeling at Oxford ought not to pass unnoticed: Mr. Gladstone, though the University's own member, was not cheered.
It is reported that Garibaldi has set sail with 6000 volunteers to invade the Roman States. If this be true, it will soon be seen whether the subjects of the Pope are loyal, for, if the Romans flock to the standard of Garibaldi, French intervention will hardly avail any longer. The announcement has created great excitement in Paris and London.
London, July 25, 1862.