Chapter III (3)

If the experience of the last twelve months has not opened the eyes of the most inveterate of Mr Cobden's quondam admirers to the real quality of their idol, we very much fear that such unhappy persons are beyond the reach of the moral oculist. From the first moment of his appearance upon the political stage, while yet unbe-praised by Peel, and unrewarded by that splendid testimonial, accorded unto him by judicious patriots, one moiety of whom have since done penance for their premature liberality in the _Gazette_, we understood the true capabilities of the man, and scrupled not to say that a more conceited personage never battered the front of a hustings. Some excellent but decidedly weak-minded people were rather offended with the freedom of our remarks upon the self-sufficient Cagliostro of free trade, in whose powers of transmutation they were disposed to place implicit reliance and belief. The Tamworth certificate, which we shrewdly suspect its author would now give a trifle to recall, was founded on as evidence sufficient to condemn our obstinate blindness and illiberality; for who could doubt the soundness of an opinion emanating from a statesman who was just then depositing, in a mahogany wheelbarrow, the first sod, raised with a silver spade, on a railway which, when completed, was to prove a perfect California to the shareholders? It is not impossible that, at this moment, some of the shareholders may be on their way to the actual California--having found, through bitter experience, that some kinds of diggings are anything but productive, and having learned that elderly orators, who make a practice of studying the gyrations of the weather-cock, may be sometimes mistaken in their calculations. Matters fared worse with us, when it was bruited through the trumpet of fame, that, in every considerable capital of Europe, multitudes had assembled to do homage to the apostle of the new era. Our compassionate friends, possibly deeming us irretrievably committed to folly, put on mourning for our transgression, and ceased to combat with our adversaries, who classed us with the worst of unbelievers. One facetious gentleman proposed that we should be exhibited in a glass-case, as a specimen of an extinct animal; another, indulging in a more daring flight of fancy, stigmatised us as a cankerworm, gnawing at the root of the tree of liberty. We fairly confess that we were pained at the alienation of friends whom we had previously considered as staunch as the steel of Toledo: as for our foemen, we, being used to that kind of warfare, treated them with consummate indifference. Yet not the less, on that account, did we diligently peruse the journals, which, from various lands, winged their way to the table of our study, each announcing, in varied speech, that Richard Cobden was expatiating upon the blessings of free-trade and unlimited calico to the nations. These we had not studied long, ere we discovered that, upon one or two unfortunate points, there was a want of understanding between the parties who thus fraternised. The foreign audiences knew nothing whatever about the principles which the orator propounded; and the orator knew, if possible, still less of the languages in which the compliments of the audiences were conveyed. In so far as any interchange of ideas was concerned, Mr Cobden might as well have been dining on cold roast monkey with the King of Congo and his court, as with the bearded patriots who entertained him in Italy and Spain. His talk about reciprocity was about as distinct to their comprehension, as would have been his definition of the differential calculus; nevertheless their shoutings fell no whit less gratefully on the ear of the Manchester manufacturer, who interpreted the same according to his own sweet will, and sent home bragging bulletins to his backers, descriptive of the thirst for commercial interchange which raged throughout Europe, and of the pacific tendencies of the age. Need we remind our readers of what followed? Never had unfortunate prophet been possessed by a more lying and delusive demon. The words were hardly out of his mouth, before the thunderstorm of revolution broke in all its fury upon France, and rolled in devastating wrath over every kingdom of the Continent. Amongst the foremost agents in this unholy work were the friends and entertainers of Mr Cobden, for whose tranquil dispositions he had been foolish enough to volunteer a pledge. How he must have cursed "my friend Cremieux," when he found that unscrupulous gentleman giving the lie to all his asseverations! No man, unless cased in a threefold covering of brass, could have held up his head to the public, after so thorough and instantaneous an exposure of his miserable fallacies. But our Richard is not to be easily put down. No one understands the trade of the agitator better; for, when baffled, put to silence, and covered with ridicule on one topic, he straightway shifts his ground, and is heard declaiming on another. It is his misfortune that he has been compelled to do this rather frequently, for in no one single instance have events realised his predictions. Free trade, which was to make every man rich, has plunged the nation in misery. Reciprocity, for all practical purposes, is an obsolete word in the dictionary. The Continental apostles of commercial exchange have been amusing themselves by cutting each others' throats, and hatching villanous schemes for the subversion of all government; nor has one of them a maravedi left, to expend in the purchase of calico. The colonies are up in arms against the policy of the mother country. Undismayed by these failures, still the undaunted Cobden lifts up his oracular voice, advocating in turn the extension of the suffrage, the abolition of standing armies, financial reform, and what not. It matters not to him that, on each new attempt, the rotten tub on which he takes his stand is either kicked from under his feet, or goes crashing down beneath the weight of the husky orator--up he starts from the mire like a new Antæus, and, without stopping to wipe away the unsavoury stains from his visage, holds forth upon a different text, the paragon of pertinacious preachers. We could almost find it in our hearts to be sorry that such singular pluck should go without its adequate reward. But a patriot of this stamp is sure to become a nuisance. However numerous his audience may be at first, they are apt to decline when the folly of the harangue is made patent to the meanest capacity, and when current events everlastingly combine to expose the nature of the imposture. The popularity of Cobden, for some time back, has been terribly on the wane. Few and far between are his present political ovations; and even men of his own class begin to consider him a humbug. We are given to understand that, in a majority of the commercial rooms, the first glass of the statutory pint of wine is no longer graced with an aspiration for his prosperity and length of years; and some ungrateful recreants of the road now hint, that to his baleful influence may be attributed the woful diminution of orders. That exceedingly mangy establishment, ycleped the Free-trade Club, of which he was the father and founder, has just given up the ghost; and great is the joy of the denizens of St James's Square at being relieved from the visitations of the crew that haunted its ungarnished halls. Ordinary men might be disheartened by a succession of such reverses--not so Cobden. Like an ancient Roman, he gathers his calico around him, and announces to a gratified world that he is ready to measure inches with the Autocrat of all the Russias!

Cobden is fond of this kind of feat. About a year ago he put out the same challenge to the Duke of Wellington and the Horse Guards, just as we find it announced in the columns of _Bell's Life in London_, that Charles Onions of Birmingham is ready to pitch into the Champion of England for five pounds aside, and that his money is deposited at the bar of the Pig and Whistles. But even as the said champion does not reply to the defiance of the full-flavoured Charles, so silent was He of the hundred fights when Richard summoned him to the field. Failing this meditated encounter, our pugnacious manufacturer next despatches a cartel to Nicholas, and no response having arrived from St Petersburg, he magnanimously professes himself ready to serve out the house of Hapsburg! Really there is no setting bounds to the valour or the ambition of this vaunting Achilles, who, far stronger than his prototype, or even than the fabled Hercules, states that he can crumple up kingdoms in his hand as easily as a sheet of foolscap. We stand absolutely appalled at the temerity of unappeasable Pelides.

Our readers are probably aware that, for some time past, there has been an attempt to preach up a sort of seedy Crusade, having for its ostensible object the universal pacification of mankind. With such an aim no good man or sincere Christian can quarrel. Peace and good-will are expressly inculcated by the Gospel, and even upon lower grounds than these we are all predisposed in their favour. So that, when America sent us a new Peter the Hermit, in the shape of one Elihu Burritt, heretofore a hammerer of iron, people were at a loss to comprehend what sort of a mission that could be, which, without any fresh revelation, was to put the matter in a clearer light than was ever exhibited before. We care not to acknowledge that we were of the number of those who classed the said Elihu with the gang of itinerant lecturers, who turn a questionable penny by holding forth to ignorant audiences upon subjects utterly beyond their own contracted comprehension. Nor have we seen any reason to alter our opinion since; for the accession of any amount of noodles, be they English, French, Dutch, Flemish, or Chinese, can in no way give importance to a movement which is simply and radically absurd. If the doctrines and precepts of Christianity cannot establish peace, cheek aggression, suppress insubordination, or hasten the coming of the millennium, we may be excused for doubting, surely, the power of Peace Congresses, even when presided over by so saintly a personage as Victor Hugo, to accomplish those desirable ends. We do not know whether Alexander Dumas has as yet given in his adhesion. If not, it is a pity, for his presence would decidedly give additional interest to the meetings.

Even on the score of originality, the founders of the Peace Associations cannot claim any merit. The idea was long ago struck out, and promulgated, by that very respectable sect the Quakers; and though in modern times some of that fraternity, John Bright for example, have shown themselves more addicted to wrangling than befits the lamb-like docility of their profession, we believe that opposition to warfare is still their leading tenet. We can see no reason, therefore, why the bread should be so unceremoniously taken from the mouth of Obadiah. If the ingenious author of _Lucretia Borgia_ and _Hans of Iceland_ wishes to become the leader of a great pacific movement, he ought, in common justice, to adopt the uniform of the existing corps. He certainly should treat the promenaders of the Boulevards to a glimpse of the broad-brimmed hat and sober drab terminations, and conform to the phraseology as well as the habiliments of the followers of William Penn.

It may be questionable whether, if the experiment of free trade had succeeded, Elihu would have obtained the countenance of so potent an auxiliary as Cobden. Our powers of arithmetic are too limited to enable us, at this moment, to recall the precise amount of additional annual wealth which the member for the West Riding, and the wiseacres of _The Economist_, confidently predicted as the necessary gain to the nation; it was something, the bare mention of which was enough to cause a Pactolus to distil from the chops of a Chancellor of the Exchequer, especially if he belonged to the Whig persuasion, and was, therefore, unaccustomed to the miracle of a bursting revenue. But as no such miracle ensued; and as, on the contrary, Sir Charles Wood was put to his wit's end--no very formidable stretch--to diminish a horrible deficit by the sale of rope-ends, rusty metal, and other material which was classed under the head of government stores, it was clearly high time for our nimble Cobden to shift his ground. Accordingly he fell foul of the army, which he would fain have insisted on disbanding; and this move, of course, brought him within the range of the orbit already occupied by the eccentric Elihu.

It is not very easy to attain to a distinct understanding of the means which the Peace Association proposed to adopt, for carrying out this benevolent scheme. Most of the gentlemen who have already figured at their debates are so excessively muddleheaded, that it seems impossible to extract from their speeches the vestige of a distinct idea. This much, however, after diligent study, we have gathered, that it is proposed to substitute arbitration in place of war, and to render that mode of arrangement almost necessary by a general European disarmament. Nothing could tally better with the views of Cobden. A higher principle than that of mere retrenchment is thus brought to bear upon his darling scheme of wiping off the army and the navy; and we must needs confess that, to a considerable proportion of the population of modern Europe, the scheme must be extremely palatable.

Standing armies, we are told, are of no earthly use in the time of peace, and their expense is obviously undeniable. If peace could be made universal and perpetual, there would be an end of standing armies. The best means for securing perpetual peace is to do away with standing armies, because without standing armies there would be no facilities for war. This is the sort of argument which we are now asked to accept; but, unfortunately, we demur both to the premises and the conclusion. Indeed, in a matter of this kind, we utterly repudiate the aid of logic, even were it a great deal more scientifically employed. That of the free-traders is, if possible, worse than their arithmetic, though, a year or two ago, they were ready to have staked their existence on the infallibility of the latter.

The experience of the last eighteen months has given us all some tangible proof of the advantages of standing armies. Setting aside the Denmark affair, and also the occupation of Rome, there has been one aggressive war waged in Europe by sovereign against sovereign. That war, we need hardly say, was commenced by Charles Albert of Sardinia, who, basely and perfidiously availing himself of the intestine difficulties of Austria, attempted to seize the opportunity of making himself master of Lombardy. We need not recapitulate the history of that campaign, so glorious to the veteran Radetsky, and so shameful to his unprincipled opponent: but it is well worth remarking, that the whole of the sympathies of Mr Cobden and his radical confederates are enlisted on the side of the Italian insurgents; and that, with all their professed horror for war, we never hear them attribute the slightest blame to the Sardinians for having marched in hostile array across the frontier of a friendly power. Nor is this all. In every case where the torch of insurrection has been lighted, we find the advocates of peace clamorous in their approbation of the movement. Without knowledge, without judgment, without anything like due consideration either of the provocation given on the one side, or the license claimed on the other, they have invariably lent their voices to swell the revolutionary cry, and backed the drunken populace in their howl against order and government. Whoever was loyal and true has been branded as a ruffian and a murderer. Assassination, when it proceeded from the mob, was in their eyes no offence at all. Some of them, employing terms which we never thought to have heard an Englishman utter, have rather chuckled over the spectacle of nobles, priests, and statesmen stabbed, shot down, hewn with axes, or torn limb from limb by savages, whose atrocity was not equalled by that of the worst actors in the early French Revolution,--and have not been ashamed to vindicate the authors of such hideous outrage.

Aggressive war we deprecate, to say the least of it, as strongly as any peace orator who ever spouted from a platform; but we by no means think that peace, in the catholic sense of the word, can be at all endangered by the maintenance of standing armies. So far as the military establishment of Great Britain is concerned, we have already had occasion, in a former paper, to show that it is barely sufficient for the occupation of our large and numerous colonies, and greatly inferior in proportion to that of any other country in Europe. We certainly do not intend to resume that discussion, because the sense of the nation has unequivocally condemned the pragmatic fools who provoked it; and even the Whigs, who coquetted with them, have seen the folly of their ways, and are not likely, in a hurry, to attempt any numerical reduction. But we go a great deal farther. We maintain, that without the assistance of the standing armies throughout Europe during the late critical juncture, anarchy would now have been triumphant, and civilisation have received a check so terrible, that ages might have elapsed before we could have recovered from its effects. Revolution is incalculably a greater disaster than war; and the higher the point of civilisation to which a nation has attained before it permits the democratic flame, smothering beneath the surface of all society, to burst out into fury, the more dangerous and difficult to extinguish must be the conflagration. But for the regular army of France, red republicanism would now be triumphant, and a new Reign of Terror have begun. The armies and discipline of Prussia alone preserved the Rhenish provinces and the Palatinate from anarchy, plunder, and devastation; and, failing those of Austria, Vienna would have been a heap of ashes. Ultra-democrats, in all ages, have exclaimed against standing armies as instruments of tyranny for suppressing and overawing the people, and they have argued that such a force is incompatible with free institutions. Such declamation is perfectly natural, both now and heretofore, when we reflect who the individuals are that use it. No class of persons are more bitter against the police than the professional thieves. To them the constable's baton also is an emblem of intolerable tyranny, because it interferes with those liberal ideas regarding the distribution of property which have been philosophically expounded and reduced to ethics by certain sages of the socialist school. The democrat hates the soldier, because he considers him an obstacle in the way of that political regeneration which is merely another word for the institution of a reign of terror.

We do not, however, think it necessary to enter into any elaborate exposition of the idleness of the peace movement. So long as the gentlemen who have gratuitously constituted themselves a congress exhibit so much common sense as to retain the semblance of consistency, we should hardly feel ourselves called upon to interfere in any way with their arrangements. We should be the last people in the world to grudge to Mr Ewart, or any other senator of such limited calibre, the little notoriety which he may chance to pick up by figuring in Paris as a champion of pacific fraternity. The paths towards the Temple of Fame are many and devious; and if a man feels himself utterly wanting in that intellectual strength which is necessary for attaining the summit by the legitimate and beaten road, he is certainly entitled to clamber up to any odd pinnacle from which he can make himself, for a moment, the object of observation. In minor theatres, it is not uncommon to find a broken-down tragedian attempting to achieve some popularity in a humble line, by jumping as Harlequin through a clock, or distorting his ochre-coated visage by grinning magnanimously as the clown. To such feats no fair exception can be taken; and we doubt not that a roar of laughter, proceeding from the throats of the most ignorant assemblage of numskulls, is as grateful to the ears of the performer as would be the applause of the most enlightened and fastidious audience. We believe that, in the case of the Congress, audience and orators were extremely well suited to the capacity of each other. The people of Paris, who drank in the rolling periods of the pacificators, were exceedingly amused with the exhibition; and testified their delight, by greeting the reproduction of the farce, in the shape of a Vaudeville at the Théâtre des Variétés, with unextinguishable shouts of laughter!

Neither shall we make any comment upon the singularity of the time selected for these demonstrations. The members of the Congress expressly set forth, that it was their desire to impress upon the governments of Europe the folly of maintaining large establishments, and we presume that they entertained some reasonable hope that their remonstrances might at least be heard. We need scarcely point out to our readers the eminent fitness of the present juncture for carrying these views into effect. We have great faith in the extent and power of human idiocy, but we hardly supposed that any body of men could have been congregated, possessed of so much collective imbecility as to conceive that this was a proper moment for securing the conviction, or enlisting the sympathies of any government in their scheme. We are, however, forced to conclude, that a good many of them are sincere; and, believing this, our regard for their honesty rises in a corresponding ratio with the decline of our respect for the measure of their intellects. It would probably be unjust and wrong to confound some of these simple souls with men of the stamp of their new ally, who use their association merely as a means for the promulgation of part of their political opinions, but who, in reality, are so far from being the friends of peace, that they seem bent upon using their utmost efforts to involve the whole of Europe in a new and desolating war. While, therefore, we drop for the present any further notice of the proceedings of the Peace Congress, we feel it our imperative duty to trace the steps of Mr Cobden since, arrayed in sheep's clothing, he chose to make his appearance in the midst of that innocent assembly.

Whatever sympathy may have been shown in certain quarters towards the Italian insurgents, that feeling has been materially lessened by the awful spectacles afforded by insurgent rule. We are, in this country, a great deal too apt to be carried into extravagance by our abstract regard for constitutional freedom. We forget that our own system has been the gradual work of ages; that the enlightenment and education of the people has invariably preceded every measure of substantial reform; and that it is quite possible that other nations may not be fitted to receive like institutions, or to work out the social problem, without more than British restraint. Arbitrary government, being quite foreign to our own notions, is invariably regarded by us with dislike; and our decided impulse, on the appearance of each new insurrection, is to attribute the whole of the blame to the inflexibility of the sovereign power. So long as this feeling is merely confined to expression of opinion at home, it is comparatively, though not altogether, harmless. Undue weight is attached abroad to the articles of the press, enunciated with perfect freedom, but certainly not always expressing the sense of the community; and foreign statesmen, unable to appreciate this license, have ere now taken umbrage at diatribes, which, could the matter be investigated, would be found to proceed from exceedingly humble sources. So long, however, as our government professed and acted upon the principles of non-interference, there was little likelihood of our being embroiled in disputes with which we had no concern, simply on account of liberal meetings, tavern speeches, or hebdomadal objurgations of despotism.

The real danger commenced when a government, calling itself liberal, began to interfere, most unjustifiably and most unwisely, with the concerns of its neighbours. Powerless to do good at home, the Whigs have ever shown themselves most ready to do mischief abroad; and probably, in the whole history of British diplomacy, there stands recorded no transaction more deplorable, from first to last, than the part which Lord Palmerston has taken in the late Italian movements. It is the fashion to laud the present Foreign Secretary as a man of consummate ability; nor is it possible to deny that, so far as speech-making is concerned, he certainly surpasses his colleagues. We were almost inclined to go farther, and admit that no one could equal him in dexterity of reading official documents, so as to mystify and distort their meaning; but were we to assign him pre-eminence in this department, we should do signal injustice to Earl Grey, who unquestionably stands unrivalled in the art of coopering a despatch. Ability Lord Palmerston certainly has, but we deny that he has shown it in his late Italian negotiations. Restless activity is not a proof of diplomatic talent, any more than an appetite for intrigue, or a perverse obstinacy of purpose. Men of the above temperament have, in all ages, been held incompetent for the duties of so delicate and difficult a station as that of minister of foreign affairs; and yet who will deny that the whole course of our recent diplomatic relations with the south of Europe, has been marked by an unusual display of restlessness, obstinacy, and intrigue? Public men must submit to have their labours judged of by their fruits; it is the penalty attached to their high office, and most righteously so, since the destinies of nations are committed to their hands. Lord Palmerston may possibly have thought that, by dictating to the governments of Italy the nature of the relations which, in his opinion, ought to subsist between them and their subjects, he was consulting the honour and advantage of England, fulfilling his duty to the utmost, and providing for the maintenance of the public tranquillity of Europe. We say it is possible that such was his thought and intention; but, if so, surely never yet did a man, possessing more than common ability, resort to such extraordinary means, or employ such incapable agents. Of all the men who could have been selected for such a service, Lord Minto was incalculably the worst. We have nothing whatever to say against that nobleman in his private capacity; but, throughout his whole public, we cannot say useful, career, he has never, on one occasion, exhibited a spark even of ordinary talent, and it is more than questioned by many, whether his intelligence rises to the ordinary level. Through accident and connexion he has been thrust into state employment, and has never rendered himself otherwise remarkable than for a most egregious partiality for those of his family, kindred, and name. And yet this was the accredited agent sent out by Lord Palmerston to expound the intentions and views of Great Britain, not only to the sovereigns of Italy, but also to their revolted subjects.

We say nothing of the diplomatic employment of such a representative as Mr Abercromby, at the court of Turin. The correspondence contained in the Blue Books laid before parliament, shows how singularly ignorant that minister was of the real posture of affairs in Italy; how eagerly he caught at every insinuation which was thrown out against the good faith and pacific policy of Austria; and how completely he was made the tool and the dupe of the revolutionary party. It is enough to note the fruits of the Palmerstonian policy, which have been, so far as we are concerned, the utter annihilation of all respect for the British name in Italy, insurrections, wild and wasting civil war, and, finally, the occupation of Rome by the French. Whatever may be thought of the prudence of this latter move, or whatever may be its remote consequences, this at least is certain, that, but for Oudinot and his army, the Eternal City would have been given up as a prey to the vilest congregation of ruffians that ever profaned the name of liberty by inscribing it on their blood-stained banners. To associate the cause of such men with that of legitimate freedom is an utter perversion of terms; and those who have been rash enough to do so must stand convicted, before the world, of complete ignorance of their subject. No pen, we believe, could adequately describe the atrocities which were perpetrated in Rome, from the day when Count Rossi fell by the poniard of the assassin, on the steps of the Quirinal palace, down to that on which the gates were opened for the admittance of the besieging army. Not the least of Popish miracles was the escape of Pius himself, who beheld his secretary slain, and his bodyguard butchered by his side. Of these things modern liberalism takes little note: it hears not the blood of innocent and unoffending priests cry out for vengeance from the pavement; it makes no account of pillage and spoliation, of ransacked convent, or of harried home. It proclaims its sympathy aloud with the robber and the bravo, and is not ashamed to throw the veil of patriotism over the enormities of the brigand Garibaldi!

When, therefore, not only a considerable portion of the press of this country, but the government itself, is found espousing the cause of revolution in the south of Europe, we need not be surprised if other governments, at a period of so much danger and insecurity, regard Great Britain as a renegade to the cause of order. Our position at present is, in reality, one of great difficulty, and such as ought to make us extremely cautious of indulging in unnecessary bravado. The state of our financial affairs is anything but encouraging. We are answerable for a larger debt than any other nation of the world; and our economists are so sensible of the weight of our burdens, that they would fain persuade us to denude ourselves even of the ordinary means of defence. Our foreign exports are stationary; our imports immensely increasing; our home market reduced, for the present, to a state of terrible prostration. Free trade, by destroying the value of agricultural produce, has almost extinguished our last hope of restoring tranquillity to Ireland, and of raising that unhappy country to the level of the sister kingdoms. It is in vain that we have crippled ourselves to stay the recurring famine of years, since our statesmen are leagued with famine, and resolute to persevere in their iniquity. The old hatred of the Celt to the Saxon is still burning in the bosoms of a large proportion of the misguided population of Ireland; and were any opportunity afforded, it would break forth as violently as ever. So that, even within the girdle of the four seas, we are not exactly in that situation which might justify our provoking unnecessary hostility from abroad. So far we are entirely at one with the Peace Congress. When we look to the state of our colonies, the prospect is not more encouraging. Through Whig misrule, our tenure of the Canadas has become exceedingly precarious. The West Indies are writhing in ruin; and even the inhabitants of the Cape are rampant, from the duplicity of the Colonial Office. Our interest is most clearly and obviously identified with the cause of order; for, were Britain once actively engaged in a general war, it is possible that the presence of her forces would be required in more than a single point. Of the final result, in the event of such a calamity, we have no doubt, but not the less, on that account, should we deeply deplore the struggle.

Such being our sentiments, it is with considerable pain that we feel ourselves called upon to notice as strong an instance of charlatanism and presumption as was ever exhibited in this country. Fortunately, on this occasion, the offender has gone so far that no one can be blind to his delinquencies; for, if there be any truth in the abstract principles of the Peace Association, their last disciple has disowned them; if the doctrines of free trade were intended to have universal application, Richard Cobden, in the face of the universe, has entered his protest against them. It signifies very little to us, and less to the powers against whom he has thundered his anathemas, what Mr Cobden thinks proper either to profess or repudiate; still, as he has been pleased to attempt the performance of the part of Guy Fawkes, we judge it necessary to conduct him from the coal-cellar, and to throw the light of the lantern upon his visage, and that of his accomplices. And, first, a word or two as to the occasion of his last appearance.

The recent Hungarian rising is by no means to be classed in the same category with the wretched Italian insurrections. Much as it is to be deplored that any misunderstanding should have arisen between the Austrian cabinet and the Hungarian Diet, so serious as to have occasioned a war; we look upon the latter body as uninfluenced by those wild democratic notions which have been and are still prevalent in the west of Europe. Whatever may have been the case with Kossuth, and some of his more ambitious confederates, the mass of the Hungarian people had no wish whatever to rise in rebellion against their king. Their quarrel was that of a minor state to which certain privileges had been guaranteed; against the presumed infringement of which, by their more powerful neighbour, they first protested, and finally had recourse to arms. Their avowed object, throughout the earlier part of the struggle, was not to overturn, but to maintain, certain existing institutions: and it is remarkable that, from the day on which Kossuth threw off the mask, and renounced allegiance to his sovereign, the Hungarians lost confidence in their leader, and their former energy decayed. We need not now discuss the abstract justice of the Hungarian claims; but whatever may be thought of these, we must, in common fairness to Austria, consider her peculiar position at the time when they were sought to be enforced. Concessions which, during a season of tranquillity, might have been gracefully made, were rendered almost impossible when demanded with threats, in the midst of insurrection and revolt. It was but too obvious that the leaders of the Hungarian movement, forgetful of their fealty to the chief of that great empire of which their country formed a part, were bent upon increasing instead of lessening the difficulties with which Austria was everywhere surrounded, and eager to avail themselves of distractions elsewhere, for the purpose of dictating insolent and exorbitant terms. In short, we believe that the real claims of Hungary, however they may have formed the foundation of the discontent which ripened into war, were used by Kossuth and his colleagues as instruments for their own ambition; and that, by throwing off the mask too precipitately, they opened the eyes of their followers to the true nature of their designs, and forfeited that support which the realm was ready to accord the men who, with a single and patriotic purpose, demanded nothing more than the recognition of the rights of their country.

It was but natural that the intervention of Russia should have been viewed with some uneasiness in the west of Europe. Every movement of that colossal power beyond the boundaries of its own territory excites a feeling of jealousy, singularly disproportionate to the real character of its resources, if Mr Cobden's estimate of these should be adopted as the true one; and we fairly confess that we have no desire to see any considerable augmentation made to the territorial possessions of the Czar. But the assistance which, on this occasion, has been sent to Austria by Russia, however much we may regret the occasion which called the latter into activity, cannot surely be tortured into any aggressive design. Apart from all our jealousies, it was a magnanimous movement on the part of one powerful sovereign in favour of a harassed ally; nor can we see how that assistance could have been refused by Russia, without incurring the reproach of bad faith, and running imminent risk with regard to her own dependencies. Those active revolutionists, the Poles, whose presence behind every barricade has been conspicuously marked and unblushingly avowed, showed themselves foremost in all the disturbances which threatened the dismemberment of Austria. By them the Hungarian army was principally officered; and it now appears, from the intercepted correspondence of their nominal chief, that the Hungarian insurrection was relied upon as the first step for a fresh attempt towards the restoration of a Polish kingdom. Under these circumstances, the Czar felt himself imperatively called upon to act; and his honour has been amply vindicated by the withdrawal of his forces after his mission was accomplished, and the Hungarian insurrection quelled.

It would undoubtedly have been far more satisfactory to every one, if the differences between Austria and Hungary could have been settled without an appeal to arms; but such a settlement was, we apprehend, utterly beyond the powers even of the Peace Congress to effect; and the next best thing is to know that tranquillity has actually been restored. That a great deal of sympathy should be shown for the Hungarians, is, under the circumstances, by no means unnatural. It is no exaggeration to say, that hardly one man out of a thousand, in Britain, comprehends the merits of the dispute, or is able, if called upon, to give an intelligible account of the quarrel. Such amount of knowledge, however, is by no means necessary to qualify a platform orator for holding forth at a moment's notice; and, accordingly, meetings expressive of sympathy with the persecuted Hungarians were called in many of our larger towns, and the usual amount of rhodomontade uttered, by gentlemen who make a point of exhibiting their elocutionary powers upon the slightest colourable pretence. Had these meetings been held earlier, they might have been worth something. We shall not go the length of assuring the very shallow and conceited personages who constitute the oratorical rump, or public debating society of Edinburgh, that their opinions are likely to be esteemed of surpassing importance, even if they were to be heard of so far as St Petersburg or Vienna; for their utter ignorance of the aspect of foreign affairs is such as would excite ridicule in the bosoms of those whom they profess to patronise and applaud. But if they really were impressed with the notion that the claims of Hungary were of such mighty importance, how was it that they tarried until the consideration of all constitutional questions had been swallowed up in war--until those who fully understood the true position of Hungary, and her rights as legally guaranteed and defined, were forced to acknowledge that, through the violence, treachery, and ambition of the insurgent nobles, all hope of a pacific settlement had disappeared; and that the best result which Europe could hope for, was the speedy quenching of an insurrection, now broadly revolutionary and republican, and threatening to spread still wider the devastating flames of anarchy? The explanation we believe to be a very simple one. Most of them knew as much of the affairs of Cappadocia as they did of those of Hungary, and they would have been equally ready to spout in favour of either country.

Late in July, Mr Bernal Osborne, backed by Mr R. M. Milnes, whose knowledge of politics is about equal to his skill in the construction of dactyls, brought forward the Hungarian question in the House of Commons, and thereby gave Lord Palmerston an opportunity of unbosoming himself on that branch of our European relations. His lordship's speech, on that occasion, was very much lauded at the time; but on referring to it now, we are somewhat at a loss to understand how it could have given satisfaction to any one. It was, indeed, as insulting to Austria, whose back was then supposed to be at the wall, as any opponent of constitutional government could have desired. Alliance was sneered at, as a mere empty word of no significance whatever: nor can we much wonder at this ebullition, considering the manner in which his lordship has thought proper to deal with other powers, who attached some value to the term. This topic was, further, a congenial one, inasmuch as it afforded the Foreign Secretary an opportunity of gibing at his predecessor, Lord Aberdeen, whose sense of honour does not permit him to identify the solemn treaties of nations with folios of waste paper; and who, therefore, was held up to ridicule as a pattern of "antiquated imbecility." But, after all this persiflage, which could serve no purpose whatever, save that of giving vent to an unusual secretion of Palmerstonian bile, it appeared that his lordship was actually to do nothing at all. He regretted, just as much as we do, and probably not more than the Austrian cabinet, that no accommodation of differences had taken place. He said, very truly, that whatever the result of the struggle might be, it could not strengthen the stability of the Austrian empire; but at the same time he distinctly repudiated all intention of interfering beyond mere passive advice, and he could not deny the right of Austria, if it thought proper, to call in the aid of the Russian arms. His conclusion, in short, was sound, and we only regret that, while it was so, the tone and temper of his speech were not equally judicious. This debate in the House of Commons was immediately followed up by a public meeting at the London Tavern, presided over by Mr Alderman Salomons.

We had not the good fortune to be present on that occasion; but, from the accounts contained in the morning papers, it must have been an assemblage of a singularly motley kind. There was a considerable muster of Radical members of parliament; the Financial Reform and the Peace Associations were respectively represented; Lord Nugent and Mr Milnes stood forth as delegates from the Bards of Britain; Julian Harney and Mr G. W. M. Reynolds headed a numerous band of Chartists; and Lord Dudley Stuart, as a matter of course, was surrounded by a whiskered phalanx of Poles, Hungarians, Italians, Germans, and Sicilians, each one striving to look more patriotically ferocious than his neighbour. The first sympathetic resolution was moved by a Quaker, and seconded by no less a person than Richard Cobden, who had only been prevented from attending the previous debate in the House of Commons by a swan-hopping expedition on the Thames.

Then it was that Mr Cobden first favoured the world with some economical views, so exceedingly novel and startling, as to excite, even in that audience, unequivocal symptoms of incredulity. He set out by laying it down as a general rule, that every separate state ought to be left to the management of its own affairs, without the interference of any foreign power whatever. "If," said he, "this had been a question simply between Hungary and Austria, I should not have appeared here to-day, nor indeed would it have been necessary for any of us to have appeared here to-day. So long as the Hungarians were left to settle their affairs with the government of Vienna, they were perfectly competent to do it, without the interference of the citizens of London." This is intelligible enough. So long as central governments are merely fighting with their own dependencies, there is no room at all, according to Mr Cobden, for interference. It matters not which side prevails: they must be left wholly to themselves. This doctrine could not, we think, have been very acceptable to the Poles; since it amounts to an entire admission that Russia has a right to deal with them at her pleasure; neither is it altogether consistent with our ideas, or interpretation of the law of nations. But it is Cobden's view, and therefore let it pass, to him, then, it mattered nothing whether Goth or Hun prevailed--it was the intervention of Russia that peremptorily called him to the platform. Now we must own, that we cannot understand this sort of reasoning, though it may possibly be suited to the capacities of a Manchester audience. If, as many people no doubt conscientiously believe, Austria was trampling upon the liberties of a brave and loyal people, not only justice, but humanity demands that our sympathies should be enlisted on their side. We cannot acquiesce in a doctrine which would have left the Greeks (lamentably small sense as they have shown of the benefits of liberty) to toil on for ever under the grievous yoke of the Ottoman: nor are we prepared to carry our apathy to so extreme a length. The intervention of Russia could not, by any possibility, alter the complexion of the quarrel. It might either crush freedom, or maintain constitutional government and the balance of power in Europe; but the principle of the contest, whatever that might be, was declared before Russia appeared, and according as men view it, so should their sympathies be given. The whole question, however, as Mr Cobden put the case, turned upon Russian interference.

If Mr Cobden's next door neighbour happened to have a dispute with his operatives, touching the interpretation of certain points of the Charter, and if the latter, in their zeal for enlightenment, were to set fire to their master's premises, we apprehend that the honourable member for the West Riding, (having neglected his own insurance,) might blamelessly bear a hand to quench the threatening conflagration. Further, if he were assured that the said operatives, assisted by a gang of deserters from his own mills, were trying their hands at an incendiary experiment, preliminary to operating upon his calico warehouses, how could he be blamed, if he sallied to attack the rioters in their first position? Yet, if we are permitted to compare very great things with small, this was precisely the situation of Russia. If she did not assist Austria, the flame would have been kindled in her own provinces; if the Hungarian insurrection had triumphed, Poland would have been up in arms. With the old partition of Poland we have nothing now to do, any more than with the junction of the Slavonic provinces with Austria. Right or wrong, these have long become acknowledged facts in European history, and the boundary divisions have been acquiesced in by a congress of the assembled nations. We cannot go back upon matters of ancient right and occupation; were we to do so, the peace of every nation in Europe must necessarily be disturbed, and no alternative would remain, save the Utopian one of parcelling out territory according to the language of the inhabitants. Boundaries must be settled somehow. They were so settled, by the consent of all the nations, at the treaty of Vienna; and our duty, as well as our interest, is to adhere to that arrangement. Russia, by assisting Austria, has in no way contravened any of the stipulations of that treaty. From the moment when the Hungarian party declared their country independent, and proclaimed a republic, a new cause of discord and misrule was opened in the east of Europe, and the greatest of the eastern potentates was not only entitled but forced to interfere. It by no means follows that we, who uphold this view, have any partiality or liking for Russian institutions. No man who lives in a free country, like ours, can possibly sympathise with despotism, serfism, and that enormous stretch of feudal power which is given to a privileged class--we must regard such things with a feeling nearly akin to abhorrence; nor can we, with our Saxon notions, fancy existence even tolerable in such a state of society. But our likings or disgusts cannot alter matters as they stand. We cannot force other nations to see with our eyes, to think with our thoughts, or to adapt their constitutions according to the measure of our accredited standard of excellence. That amount of irresponsible and uncontrolled action which we term freedom, presupposes the existence of a large and general spread of intelligence throughout the community, fixed laws of property, consolidated social relationship, pure administration of justice, and wisdom and temperance on the part of the governed and the governor. Such things are not the rapid results of months, or years, or centuries. They are of slow growth, but they are the inevitable fruits of order; and very blind and ignorant must that man be who does not see the hand of progress at work even in the institutions of Russia. That country emerged from barbarism later than the rest of Europe, but, since the days of Peter the Czar, its strides towards civilisation have been most rapid. Commerce has been established, manufactures introduced, learning and the arts cultivated, and such a foundation laid as, in no very long time, must perforce secure to all ranks of the people a larger share of freedom than they are now qualified to enjoy. Revolution cannot hasten such a state of matters, but it may materially retard it. Foolish and short-sighted men seem to think that revolt is a synonymous term with freedom, and, accordingly, they hail each fresh outbreak with shouts of indiscriminate approval. They can draw no distinction between the revolt of the barons and that of Jack Cade in England; they are as ready to applaud Spartacus as Brutus; they think a peasant's war as meritorious as the up-raising of the standard of the League. They never stop to consider that freedom is a mere relative term, and that it is worse than useless to pluck down one form of government by violence, unless a better is to be reared in its stead. And who can venture to say that this would have been the case with Hungary? Who would predict it with certainty even of Poland, were that dismembered kingdom to be restored? It is notorious that Poland went to pieces under the weight of its elective monarchy, and the perpetual feuds, turbulence, and tyranny of a lawless and fierce aristocracy. No doubt, men will fight for these things--they will fight for traditions, and bad ones too, as keenly as for the most substantial benefits. A century ago, the Highlanders would have fought to the death for clanship, chieftainship, heritable jurisdictions, and the right of foray and of feud; but will any man now raise up his voice in favour of the old patriarchal constitution? In Ireland, at this moment, we believe that a large body of the Celts is willing to stand up for a restoration of the days of Malachi of the Golden Collar--a form of government which, we presume, even an O'Connell would decline. This is just the case with our sympathisers. They take it for granted that, because there is revolt, there must be a struggle for freedom, and they are perfectly ready to accept, without the slightest examination, any legend that may be coined for the nonce. Gullible as a considerable number of the British public may be, especially that section of the public which delights in platform oratory, we really could not have believed that any assemblage could be so utterly ignorant, as to receive a statement to the effect that the old constitution of Hungary bore a close resemblance to our own!

We are tempted here to insert an extract from the works of a popular writer regarding the constitution of Poland, because it expresses, in excellent language, the opinions which we are attempting to set forth in this article, and denounces the folly of those who confound the term freedom with its just and rational application. Will the reader favour us by perusing the following passage with attention?--when he has done so, we shall state from whose eloquent pen it proceeded.