Chapter V: The Marriage (7)

Now Lord Raglan’s part in the interview is meant, as recorded, to show to his advantage. Yet we cannot think that this way of conducting conferences can be considered as displaying talent. Anybody can appear to conceal an opinion—even if he hasn’t got one. The Marshal might, according to this account, justly feel himself aggrieved—first, for having no notice taken of his plan; and, secondly, for having no grounds afforded for acting in concert with his ally in the coming battle. Nor do we think the plan absurd in principle, though it was erroneous in details. If to turn one flank of an enemy is an advantage, to turn both flanks will, in general, increase the advantage: whether it is practicable depends on the relative length of the opposing lines. Now the Russians had 39,000 men; the Allies had 63,000. And the English order of battle enables our line to cover more ground than equal numbers of the enemy. Therefore, after forming on an equal front, there would still be at least 12,000 men disposable for the turning of each flank; and 12,000 men on your flank is a serious matter. We say then that the plan, which was, of course, a suggestion, to be modified according to circumstances, was not in itself absurd in principle.

The Marshal, therefore, with Lord Raglan’s concurrence, as the French say—but, according to Mr Kinglake, with such expectations as he might have derived from the foregoing not very explicit interview—proceeded to execute his part of the plan by making his right column pass close to the sea. This was an error, for it was founded on a false assumption; he supposed the Russian left to be nearer the sea than it really was. He could not ascertain the truth, because, as is not uncommon in battles, he could not make a close reconnoissance, and the plain behind the cliff, being invisible from below, might contain an unknown number of Russians. A computation of the forces visible would not give certain means of judging of this point, because troops had been joining Mentschikoff from various parts—a large detachment had come in that morning.

The consequence, then, of this error was that more of the French line than had been expected overlapped the Russians—so much so that those on the extreme right never joined in the action. Moreover, they were on a narrower front than their numbers warranted; for though three divisions were in front, and two following them, yet the three in front formed two lines. If the two in rear are to be considered as a reserve, it was twice as large as is common. Thus the English only completed the front necessary to correspond with the Russian front without overlapping it, and their attack, therefore, was almost entirely a direct attack. The right French column was thrown away. The next to it only engaged in a distant artillery fire: even the third and fourth found themselves opposed to a force inadequate to their numbers. As Mr Kinglake well observes, if all the army had been of one nation, the direct attack would not have been made till that on the flank had already shaken the enemy’s line. But circumstances rendered it difficult to hold back the English divisions. The French did nothing to be proud of in the battle. We perfectly agree with Mr Kinglake that the official accounts and that of De Bazancourt are mere bombastic inventions. We know that they were opposed by numbers small in proportion to their own. That some of their divisions showed but little _elan_ and made small progress, was evident during the battle. And with regard to their losses, which St Arnaud places at 1200, we do not deny that they may have lost that number of men that day; but if they did, the cholera must have been unusually severe on the 20th September, for there were no signs of such mortality on the battle-field.

The English then advanced, because the French demanded support, and because it might not have been judicious to remain longer inactive when our allies were engaged. Our divisions therefore advanced across the river. In doing so their order was broken by several causes. First, the vineyards and enclosures between the troops and the river; then the river itself; and lastly, the fact that the divisions in deploying had, by mistaking distance, considerably overlapped. It is evident that if an inferior army about to be attacked in position could choose how the attack should be made, it would desire that a great part of the enemy’s force should be directed where it would be useless, and that the remainder should make a direct advance. This was what the Allies did. But though there was no great generalship, the soldiership of the English was admirable. The divisional, brigade, and regimental officers took advantage of a sheltering rim of ground on the opposite bank to restore some degree of order in the broken ranks, and then led them straight up the slope in the teeth of the Russian guns. Torn by cannon-shot at close range, and by a hail of musketry from the numerous infantry—for here Mentschikoff had placed his heaviest masses—they nevertheless went on in a line which, if irregular, was still irresistible, drove the Russians back, and captured a gun. Then, being without support, having lost heavily, and being assailed by fresh reserves, the front line gave way and retreated down the hill. But by this time the Duke of Cambridge’s division was across the stream and moving up. The broken masses passed through the ranks, which closed and advanced solidly, with the same success as the first line, and the success was more enduring. English guns, hitherto opposed to the Russian artillery, were now brought across the stream—they were set free to do so partly by the progress of the French on the flank, partly by the action of two guns that Lord Raglan had brought across the stream in the space between the armies, and which, taking the Russian line in reverse, caused it to fall back. The English divisions thus maintained themselves—the heavy columns that advanced against them were repulsed partly by artillery, partly by the fire of the line—the Russians fell back slowly to the top of the heights, and retreated along the plain, pursued by the fire of our horse-artillery. The English batteries then advanced. When they reached the plateau the enemy’s masses were already at some distance, moving towards Sebastopol. The French on the right were coming up so deliberately that it was evident they had no thought of molesting the enemy’s retreat, and on a proposition being made to them to join in a pursuit they declined it.

Whether it was or was not owing to the cause to which Mr Kinglake attributes it—namely, to the fact that the French leaders, selected as they almost all were for their share in the _coup d’état_, were men in whom the troops had no confidence—it is certain that the reputation of the French army was not augmented by this action. The report of St Arnaud paints their valour and skill in the most brilliant colours. He does not scruple largely to exaggerate the numbers of the enemy. There were, according to him, 40,000 Russian bayonets, 6000 cavalry, and 180 guns opposed to the Allies. The true numbers were, according to Mr Kinglake, 36,000 infantry, 3400 cavalry, and 108 guns. The advantages of the Russians consisted in their strong position, their superiority in cavalry, and their 14 heavy guns. The movement of the French was ineffective, partly from misdirection, partly from their slowness to close with the enemy. To the English, therefore, fell a task as difficult as that which would have fallen to them in ordinary cases had the Russians been equal in strength to the Allies—and the battle of the Alma is eminently an English victory.

It is evident that if the general of an inferior army can oppose one great mass of his enemy with a small number of his troops, and is thus at liberty to meet the remainder on equal terms, he has gained a great point in his favour; and this Mentschikoff did. Yet we perfectly agree with Mr Kinglake that Mentschikoff showed no talent, and did no justice to his troops. As we have seen, he allowed the march to be unmolested. He made no use of the time at his disposal to strengthen his position artificially. Mr Kinglake rightly asserts this in contradiction to official and other authorities. Fords might have been rendered impracticable, roads obstructed, field-works thrown up, and the advancing troops would thus have been detained under the heavy fire of the defenders, till on closing, if they should succeed in closing, it would be with numbers too much diminished for success. But there were no intrenchments nor obstacles worth mentioning on the field. And we regret to observe that Mr Kinglake, though he explains in a note that he knows the term to be inapplicable, and that he only follows an established precedent, talks of the position of the Russian battery as “the Great Redoubt.” We regret it, because the impression conveyed is false to those who do not know the truth, and irrelevant to those who do. The only work was a bank of earth not a yard high, which partially covered the Russian guns of position, and which was probably intended as much for preventing them from running down the hill as for anything else. There were no embrasures, for, as the guns looked over the bank, none were necessary; it had not even the additional impediment of a ditch in front, the earth which formed it being taken from spaces dug between the guns. It was no more like a “Great Redoubt,” than it was like the Great Wall of China. And this being the case, all such expressions as “storming” are quite inapplicable.

It is evident that, if an army superior in numbers wishes to bring its superiority to bear, it must outflank the enemy on one or both sides. Which flank, then, would it have been best in the present case to turn? The French turned the left. There was the natural temptation of advancing over ground where the turning columns were protected by the fire of the fleet. But they moved against an imaginary foe, and a large part of the force might have been as well on board ship for all the effect it had on the action. Moreover, though the turning movement was completed, yet it had none of its legitimate effects, for the Russians left only two guns and no prisoners. It is clear then that none of the advantages to be expected from a successful attack in flank followed here.

Now suppose—as there are but two flanks to an enemy, and no great things had been done by turning one—that the manœuvre had been effected against the other. The Allies would have moved away from the sea up the river. The road next the sea was closed to the Russians by the ships’ broadsides. Opposite the next road, that by which Bosquet led his second brigade, the Turks might have been left. The right of the French would then have been where the right of the English really was, that is, in the village of Bourliouk. And the English would have stretched so far beyond the enemy’s right, that at least three divisions would have been available for turning that flank. To the Russians, seeing this, only certain alternatives would be possible: either to try to thrust themselves between us and the sea—in which case the cliff would have restricted them to the one road guarded by the Turks, and where any part of their force that made the attempt would be lost if it should fail, as it certainly would fail; or, secondly, an extension of their already sufficiently extended line till its length corresponded with that of the Allies, by which extension it would be fatally weakened; or, thirdly, a movement of the entire army to the right, which would have uncovered the Sebastopol road, and was therefore not to be thought of. Therefore the Russians must have stood to fight on the ground they occupied, throwing back their right wing to meet the threatened attack on their flank. The Allied artillery should then have been massed—one portion to oppose the great battery, one to pour a storm of shot on the right wing, the object of attack; and the horse-artillery and one or two batteries, after flanking the advance from their own side of the river, should have been held ready to follow the flanking columns of attack as soon as they should be established on the other bank. The advance, instead of being in echelon from the right, would be in echelon from the left—the Light Division, followed by the First and Fourth, would make the turning movement and attack the right wing—the remaining English divisions would advance upon the centre, and upon the angle formed by the centre and right; and, as soon as the Russian line fronting the river should be shaken by the front and flank attack and the reverse fire, the French divisions advancing would find their share of the task easy. Two results would have followed, both important—the first, that the position would have been carried with much less loss of life—secondly, that the losses of the Russians would have been far greater. For it is to be observed that, by turning the left of the Russians, and interposing between them and the sea, they were driven back along their proper line of retreat; whereas, had the right been turned, the English left wing, pushing obliquely across the enemy’s rear, would have reached the Sebastopol road on the top of the plateau, and the result of that would have been to drive the beaten troops towards the sea, and to enclose all that part of the Russian left which should be last to retreat between our line and the cliffs, thus capturing many prisoners. And as the enemy were superior in cavalry, the English left must have carefully guarded itself, during its advance, from the Russian horse, first, by our artillery on our own side of the river, and afterwards by guns following in support, by battalions on the left echeloned in squares, and by our own cavalry. Many reasons, then, induce us to consider the French attack a mistake. And the more complete turning movement which Mr Kinglake seems, as if by authority, to ascribe to Marshal Pelissier, as what _he_ would have done—namely, “to avoid all encounter with the enemy on his chosen stronghold by taking ample ground to their left, and boldly marching round him”—would have been objectionable, inasmuch as it would have left no option of retreating on Eupatoria, in case the attack should prove unsuccessful; and no plan can be sound that does not provide for the contingency of defeat.

Mr Kinglake modestly declines to give an opinion on the question of what plan might have been better. But he need not have scrupled to do so, as he deals extremely well with the technicalities of military art. His account of the manœuvres preceding and during the battle is remarkably clear. His discussion as to the respective merits of lines and columns shows that he thoroughly appreciates the philosophy of the subject. But it is not so much to the credit of his estimate of what constitutes generalship, that he implies so great approval of Lord Raglan’s solitary ride beyond the enemy’s front, and of his continued occupation of the knoll there throughout the stress of the battle. Of course it would be a great advantage to a general in every action to be able to see exactly what was passing in rear of the enemy’s line. But it would be an advantage only as it would give him the means of directing his own troops with greater certainty. To see the enemy’s rear, at the expense of losing the control of his own army, would be quite the reverse of an advantage. And imagine the state of things if two opposing generals in a battle should be absorbed in their efforts to pass, like two pawns at chess, behind the opposing lines. If it had appeared to the general that an opportunity existed for wedging a part of his force within a weak spot of the enemy’s line, staff officers might have been sent to ascertain the fact, while the guns and their escort required to effect the manœuvre might have been brought from the reserve, or the nearest available division, and posted in readiness to advance. We know that during this excursion of Lord Raglan the English divisions were confused for want of a controlling power to direct them. The action of the English artillery was without unity, at a time when a concentrated fire against the hill on which the attack was to be made would have had a most important influence on the result. Mr Kinglake tells us that Lord Raglan from his knoll witnessed the first advance of the troops of our first line, and saw that they would not be able to hold their ground because they were not supported; but adds, that he did not attempt to apply a remedy, because no order sent by him could possibly arrive in time to be of service. Surely this of itself might have convinced Mr Kinglake that the general’s place was elsewhere. And we will add, that, at the close of the struggle, our successful troops did not receive that impulsion which none but the supreme directing authority can give, and which was necessary to push the victory home.

But though we do not think the occasions for praising Lord Raglan are always judiciously chosen, we thoroughly agree in Mr Kinglake’s estimate of the character of that kind excellent gentleman and gallant soldier. His tact, temper, and bearing were all of a kind calculated to be of eminent service in an allied command, and secured to him at once the attachment of his own army and the respect of the French.

Mr Kinglake has scarcely accomplished half of that task which is so weighty, but which his qualities as a narrator have made to seem so light. And it is because so many events yet remain to receive his impress, that we would venture to remind him how the French army in the Crimea, though it did not by its first achievements enhance its reputation, yet performed many great and gallant actions. The aid which Bosquet brought us at Inkermann, though long in coming, was effectual. The part of the French in that battle, infantry and artillery, was highly honourable. They often maintained terrible conflicts in the trenches, where both sides fought well, but where the French were victors. Their arrangements for receiving the attack on the Tchernaya were such that the assailant never had a chance of penetrating their lines. And their terrible losses in the final assault prove the magnitude of the obstacles they encountered, and the ardour with which they overcame them. But while we do not forget this, neither can we regret that thus far Mr Kinglake has sought to redress the balance of history, by awarding to our army its share of credit. Reputation is the breath of its nostrils, and our allies have appeared but too desirous to monopolise what was gained in this war.

And we also venture to observe that Mr Kinglake’s enemies—and he has scattered in these volumes dragon’s teeth enough to produce a plentiful crop—may find occasion to say that in praising his friends he is equally uncompromising as in censuring his foes. Small traits of character receive undue prominence, small merits, undue laudation; as, for instance, when the way in which the Highland Brigade was made to drink at the Bulganak is praised as if it were a stroke of military genius, and where a paragraph is devoted to describing how its commander pronounced the not very remarkable words, “Forward, 42d!” and when it is further added, “‘As a steed that knows his rider,’ the great heart of the battalion bounded proudly to his touch,” Mr Kinglake lets himself slip into a style much beneath his own. But what no enemy can deny is the extraordinary animation, clearness, sustained interest, and dramatic as well as descriptive excellence of the work. A vast field for these qualities yet remains—the flank march, the commencement of the siege, the hurricane, the action of Balaklava (fine soil for dragon’s teeth), the battle of Inkermann, the long calamities and glories of the trenches, the death of the Czar, and of the English commander, the final assault, and the destruction of the stronghold—into all these scenes we shall follow Mr Kinglake, confident of seeing them treated by a great artist.

As a concluding remark, we will say that we think no history of this war can be complete which does not devote a chapter to the discussion of the causes which made the British army of 1854 so different, in all except fighting power, from the British army of 1814, as a machine of war. The long peace, the growth of the commercial spirit, the Peace Party, the administration of the army by the Duke of Wellington, and the influence of the long-continued public demand for economy, must all be taken into account before the breaking down of that machine, as to be recorded hereafter, can be fairly and fully accounted for, and a true comparison drawn between our military system and that of the French.

THE OPENING OF THE SESSION.

The Session has commenced under circumstances so unfavourable to the Ministry that even their most sanguine friends are dejected. The omens are unmistakably against them, and the auspices are corroborated by the more palpable evidence of hard facts. The Session was barely a week old when the first division took place, and left the Ministry in a minority. It was a Government question, but the Opposition motion, brought forward by Mr Peacocke, was carried by the large majority of 113 to 73. This was a bad beginning; and, unenlightened by the result, the Ministry have since then exposed themselves to, and undergone, two similar defeats. The events of the same week out-of-doors brought them a worse and less avoidable disaster. Two elections went against them. We certainly do not claim the Cambridge election as any great triumph of Conservative principles, but it was a blow to the Ministry. Lord Palmerston’s reputation is deservedly great, and in not a few elections the Ministerial candidate has escaped defeat by proclaiming himself simply a Palmerstonian, and asserting that the Premier was as good a Conservative as any member of the Opposition. The ex-member for Cambridge, Mr Steuart, although returned as a Conservative, subsequently became a “Palmerstonian;” but no sooner did his constituents obtain an opportunity of showing their sentiments by their votes, than they declared in favour of a Conservative who avowed himself an opponent of Lord Palmerston. This, we say, may be called a trifle, but it is a straw which shows which way the wind is blowing. The other electoral contest—at Devonport—was a very different affair. In former elections for that borough the Liberals had won the day. Moreover, owing to the large Government dockyards, the constituency of Devonport is peculiarly amenable to Ministerial influence. In spite of all this, the Ministerial candidate, although strenuously backed by the whole influence of the Admiralty, and himself a Grey to boot, has been defeated, and one of the most stanch of Conservatives, and a thorough party-man, Mr Ferrand, has been elected by a majority of thirty. This is a triumph for the Opposition too remarkable to be explained away. The Government has been defeated in its own dockyard. Driven to candour by the very magnitude of the disaster, a Ministerial journal[11] says:—“It is a surprising innovation. Constituencies like Devonport, where the Government is a great employer of labourers having votes, have hitherto been considered almost as nomination boroughs.” Even the Whigs have got sick of “innovations” now, finding they will no longer go down with the public; but such an innovation as that accomplished by the constituency of Devonport must cut them to the heart. If they can no longer get their candidates returned even in Government pocket boroughs, what are they to do? In Ireland a Government appointment went a-begging for a year, because no Whig member would risk the new election that must follow his acceptance of it. It would seem that the Government are now in the same sad predicament on both sides of the Irish Channel.

Obviously the “Conservative reaction” has entered upon a new phase. The country is resolved to have not only a Conservative policy, but a Conservative Ministry. At first, when it was seen that the Whig Ministry abandoned its mischievous attempts to degrade the franchise, many constituencies contented themselves with electing men of Conservative tendencies, even though they gave a general support to the Government. But this feeling is dying away; neutrality is being abandoned for active opposition. The change is doubtless due to more causes than one. But the chief influence in producing the change is a love of fair-play. This is peculiarly the case in regard to the English constituencies, where public opinion is more calm and better balanced on political questions than it is in the sister kingdoms. There is a striking difference, we may remark, in the modes of political feeling and action which characterise the three great sections of the United Kingdom. Party-spirit and religious zeal (which, though generally, are not always coincident forces) predominate in Ireland. In Scotland, although the ecclesiastical spirit is very strong, the peculiar characteristic of the people in politics is their attachment to ideas pure and simple: they are the great theorists and innovators, and will go all lengths in the logical application of their principles. Fortunately the English constituencies are admirable ballast, and keep straight the vessel of the State. They care little for “ideas,” but a great deal for good and safe government: they are businesslike and matter-of-fact, and, above all things, are lovers of fair-play. In many an English constituency the representation, by mutual agreement, is divided between the rival parties. A Whig and a Tory are returned together, or two Tories and a Whig, or one Tory and two Whigs; and in some boroughs, where there is a great landed proprietor who owns nearly the whole area of the borough, the duke or other magnate is allowed to name one member and the majority of the constituency the other. This is a businesslike compromise which aptly illustrates English character. Every one knows that property must have a great influence, whether wielded by a territorial magnate or by a millowner; but in assigning one seat to the magnate, the constituency is, by a well-understood agreement, left free to choose its own man for the other, without any interference on the part of the magnate’s influence. In the other case (which generally occurs in counties), where the representation is divided, equally or unequally, between the rival political parties, the same spirit of compromise is apparent. It saves many contested elections, and it is likewise a virtual adoption of the principle of the representation of minorities. Scotchmen would do none of these things: a divided representation would seem to them as good as none. As long as any party in a Scotch constituency has a majority, however small, it will insist upon carrying its own men. The spirit of compromise which distinguishes English constituencies arises partly from their love of fair-play, partly from the fact that they are not such fervid politicians as the Scotch, and deal with politics not as an affair of immutable principles or scientific deduction, but as an ordinary business matter, which they decide by striking a balance of the miscellaneous considerations which affect them. Now, that balance is turning every day more strongly against the Liberals. The Scotch may think it best to have Liberals in office even though they carry out a Conservative policy. But Englishmen don’t like this. In the first place, it is not fair. Each side should have its innings, and the Whigs have confessedly played out their game. Office has its sweets, and John Bull thinks that it is more than time that the Tories should get their turn of the good things. A man cannot live upon politics any more than upon love; and although to the leading statesmen on both sides the emoluments of office are as nothing, the tenure of political power by one party or the other makes a material difference to each. John Bull understands this. Moreover, if the retention of office by the Liberals is not fair, it is also not manly or honest. John Bull, like old George III., does not like “Scotch metaphysics.” He does not appreciate the casuistical reasoning by which it may be shown that a Ministry which took office to do one thing, may stay in office to do the opposite. Since the Whigs have given up their principles, he thinks they should also give up their places. Doubtless too, if he takes any interest in the morals of Whiggery (which we greatly doubt, seeing they are so purely speculative), he must come to the conclusion that the principles of the party are rotting so fast on the Treasury seats that it is high time to give them an airing in the bracing atmosphere of the Opposition benches.

The country now sees that, if it had known the truth four years ago, the present Ministry would never have been in existence. The Whigs and Radicals overthrew the Conservative Government in 1859 by means of false statements and false professions. It took some time before the real state of the case could be demonstrated, but gradually it was made plain by the conduct of the Liberals themselves. Slowly but steadily the truth has dawned upon the constituencies: they feel that they were duped by the present occupants of office, and they are now conscious also that they did injustice to the Conservatives. The Whig chiefs who, before they got into office, deemed Parliamentary Reform a matter of such urgency that they promised to hold a special session in November in order to pass a Reform Bill, first delayed to fulfil their promise, and then threw up the matter altogether. The excuse which they plead is, that they found Parliament unfavourable to any further tampering with the constitution. But if Parliament was right, they themselves were condemned; if it were wrong, why did they not dissolve, and appeal to the country? Had they been in earnest, they would have dissolved: but they knew that a dissolution would have been followed by the election of a Parliament still more hostile to them and to their measure. And therefore they chose rather to remain self-condemned, and to be pointed at with the finger of scorn, by the one party as recreants, by the other as impostors, rather than save their honour at least by the sacrifice of office. This tells against them now. The revulsion of public feeling was not, and could not be, immediate—for the duplicity and insincerity of the Ministry only revealed itself by degrees; but it was certain from the first, and has now become overwhelming. The Ministry have come to be regarded with contempt, and every new election is taken advantage of by the constituencies to give expression to their censure. But this is not the whole of the change which the last four years have wrought on the public mind. Alongside of the consciousness of the sins and demerits of the present Ministry, there has arisen the conviction that the principles of the Conservative party are the right ones for the country. The constituencies now feel not only that the present Ministry is a bad one, but that its predecessor was a good one. They have become sensible that, if any Reform Bill were needed at all, the Bill brought forward by Mr Disraeli was the one that best deserved to be adopted. They are now conscious that if any change at all were requisite in the matter of Church-rates, Mr Walpole’s Bill was well deserving of support, and that the measure of total abolition to which the present Ministry have pledged themselves is wholly out of the question. Finally, and for a good while past, the country has come to see that, led away by the misrepresentations of the Whigs, it did gross injustice to the foreign policy of the Conservative Government. We do not know by what fatality it was that Lord Malmesbury’s despatches on the Italian question were not published until too late to affect the division on the vote of want of confidence in June 1859. Had they been published earlier, we believe the issue of that division would have been different. Every one may remember (or may see for himself by referring to the file) the effect which the publication of those despatches produced on the ‘Times,’ and how the leading journal, thus enlightened as to the facts, frankly, and without any reservation, admitted that Lord Malmesbury had been right throughout. And certainly no one can forget how Lord John Russell, when taking farewell of the House of Commons, took occasion—or rather made occasion—to say that he approved of the policy of his predecessor, and that (which is more than his colleagues could say) he had been of that opinion from the beginning. The impression, originated and studiously fostered by Lord Palmerston and his followers, that the Conservatives are unfriendly to the cause of freedom and independence in Italy, is totally unfounded. They have certainly mistrusted the disinterestedness of the policy of the French Emperor, and have cautioned the Italian Government against seeking to reach the height of its ambition by machinations which would only redound to its own disadvantage: and on both of these points the Italians themselves must now be convinced that the warnings and advices of the Conservative statesmen were wellfounded. At all events, taught by a bitter experience, the Italian Government is now following the very course which the Conservatives recommended. We may add a word on our own part. The Magazine will certainly be admitted to be as sound an exponent of Conservatism as is to be found either in or out of Parliament, and we can refer to our own pages to demonstrate how heartily we have sympathised with the Italian cause, wherever it was not marred by such secret traffickings with the French Government, as the Italians themselves now regret and condemn; or by violations of law which, though natural to times of revolution, may be condoned, but cannot be approved.

The Ministerial programme for the present Session contains another confession of errors on the part of the Government, and a fresh proof of the wisdom of the opinions of the Conservative party. Destitute, as usual, of the capacity to originate measures of useful legislation, the Budget is to be brought forward early, to cover the prospective barrenness of the Session. And what is the feature of this year’s Budget, upon which the Ministry rely to cover their flagrant incapacity in other matters of administration? It is a reduction of the naval and military estimates! It is the adoption of the very course so earnestly advocated last year by the Opposition, and so strenuously resisted by the Government. Hardly eight months have elapsed since Lord Palmerston and his colleagues confidently and haughtily maintained that no reduction could be made upon the large sums voted for the support of the national armaments, without destroying the influence and safety of the country. Mr Disraeli, during last Session, argued strongly in favour of making such a reduction, on the ground that so heavy an expenditure was uncalled for, and was in reality damaging to our military power, by trenching so deeply upon the financial resources of the State. Again and again he pressed these views upon the Government—it was his constant theme all through last Session; but the Government refused to accept the warnings, and resolutely maintained that no reduction could be made. What, then, are we to think of them now? In what respect is the attitude of the times more favourable for a reduction now than it was eight months ago? In so far as there has been any change, the change has been clearly for the worse. There has been a revolution in Greece, of the issues of which as yet we have hardly seen the beginning. Servia has been arming, by the secret assistance of Russia; and the Danubian Principalities, and northern provinces of Turkey generally, are in a more unquiet state than they have been for years. And now we have a revolution in Poland, which is throwing all Central Europe into agitation, and furnishing fresh opportunities for the intrigues or intervention of other Powers. So far, then, as there has been any change in the situation since last summer, the change, we repeat, has been for the worse. Nothing could demonstrate more strikingly than this the consciousness of the Government that they were wrong last Session, and that the Conservatives were right. It is a new triumph for the Conservative party—a fresh condemnation of themselves by the Ministry. The trump card with which the Ministry are to lead off this Session has been stolen from the hands of the Opposition.

It is high time, indeed, that the Chancellor of the Exchequer were retrenching his expenditure; for, weak as the Administration has been in other respects, the management of the finances has been peculiarly disastrous. Although the present Ministry took office with a surplus, which they owed to their predecessors, in the two succeeding years (1860–2) in which Mr Gladstone had the exclusive direction of the finances, his mismanagement accumulated a deficit of four millions sterling. Nor is this all. For in the same period Mr Gladstone anticipated the revenue of the country to the extent of £3,200,000,—namely, £2,000,000 anticipated upon the income-tax, and upwards of £1,200,000 upon the malt-credit. This enormous deficit—_seven and a half millions sterling_—was, moreover, accumulated during a period when the national Exchequer enjoyed windfalls such as very rarely come to the aid of a Minister of Finance. The falling-in of the terminable annuities has reduced the charges on the National Debt to the extent of £2,000,000; and there was also the unexpected repayment of a portion of the Spanish loan. Mr Gladstone, therefore, has enough to do with the surplus which he will obtain by the proposed reduction of the expenditure. He has first to restore the Exchequer balances to their proper amount, by repaying the £2,684,000 which he abstracted from them to meet his exigencies between March 1860 and March 1862. He has likewise to get rid of the addition to the National Debt which he created, to the extent of £461,000. And, finally, he has to cease his forestalments of the revenue. When he has done these things, where will be his surplus? Mr Gladstone, in former times, used to denounce the slightest forestalment of the yearly revenue as a flagrant “violation of political morality;” and there is no question that such a procedure can only be excused under exceptional circumstances and to a very small amount. The House of Commons, therefore, as watchful guardians of the public revenue, will surely call upon the Chancellor of the Exchequer to restore matters to their normal condition before he does anything else. The same must be done in regard to the Exchequer balances. And if it be not an equally pressing necessity to pay off the £461,000 of new debt, surely Mr Gladstone, who aspires to the reputation of a great Finance Minister, will be ashamed to leave unpaid off a portion of the national obligations which will hereafter be known as “Gladstone’s Debt.” Unfortunately, when we think of 1853–4, we must allow that this is not the only portion of the National Debt which may be thus designated.

Most financiers, and all sound ones, in such circumstances, would devote the surplus of revenue which might accrue to redressing the adverse balance of former years. But Mr Gladstone belongs to a new school. He leaves the balances to come right as they may, or bequeaths them as an embarrassment to his successor; while he goes on in his seemingly endless process of devising financial alterations, which always leave him deeper in the mire. He loves to carry every inch of canvass—he crowds all sail as he drives his financial pinnace through strange waters; but he has shipped so many seas that the Exchequer has become waterlogged. He had better bale out the water before he goes any further. But this is precisely what he will not do. He must have a “sensation” budget. He must reduce some branches of the revenue and experiment with more. Already he lifts up a corner of the curtain to give us a glimpse of the grand tableau of jugglery which he has in store for us; and in due time the House will be wheedled and overwhelmed by the suave rhetoric of the great financial juggler. Possibly, however, the country will think that it has had too much of this already. It thinks of the cheap paper and cheap wines, and cannot see anything in these changes to atone for a deficit of seven millions and a half. Mr Gladstone’s abolition of the paper-duties was done not only at a wrong time, but in a wrong way. He not only landed himself in a deficit, but he landed the papermakers in a dilemma. He struck off the excise-duty on the one hand and the import-duty on paper on the other, and called it “free trade;” but while making free trade in the manufactured article, he ought to have taken care that there should be free trade likewise in the raw material. Several Continental countries send their paper, untaxed, to compete in the English markets with the produce of our own paper-mills, while at the same time they place a prohibitory duty on the export to our shores of rags. Our papermakers do not object to fair competition, but they object to be subjected by legislative enactment to so serious a disadvantage. If the crop of cotton in America were to fall off in extent (as it has done during this civil war), and the Americans, when peace is restored, were to place (as they have talked of doing) a prohibitory duty upon the export of cotton, while we did not retaliate by placing an import-duty on the manufactured article from their ports, what would our manufacturers think of this sort of “free trade?” Why, such a state of matters would produce a calamity in our manufacturing districts equal to that under which we are now suffering, and ruin the cotton industry in this country permanently. Yet this is the condition of affairs which Mr Gladstone voluntarily chooses to impose upon our paper manufacture, in deference to the clamour and exhortations of his Radical friends. What has become of the touching picture which the eloquent financier portrayed of paper-mills springing up all over the country,—when every hamlet was to have its little factory, engaging the surplus labour of the lads and lasses; and every glen that had a streamlet was to be made musical with the noise of a paper-mill? We have not heard of any such results—we have not heard of any extension at all of the manufacture; and as for Mr Gladstone’s arcadian dreams of paper-making, while foreign Governments act towards us in the way they do, he surely cannot possibly hope for their realisation—unless, indeed, he expects the whole country to go to rags under his financial mismanagement.

The other basis upon which Mr Gladstone founds his reputation as a great financier, and as an ample compensation for his past annual deficits, is his reduction of the duties upon French wines. We readily admit that these wines have been poured into this country in greatly increased quantities during the last eighteen months; but will this continue? And what is the advantage we derive from the change? “Gladstone’s wines” has become a current name for these beverages, but it is certainly not a “household word.” Any one who confesses, with rueful face, that he has made acquaintance with these wines, never fails to explain that it was at another man’s table, or at some villanous restaurant’s,—never at his own. No decanter will circulate if its contents are known to have been favoured by the legislation of Mr Gladstone. People have become wary and suspicious at dinner-parties now; and a Paterfamilias may be heard giving the caution which old Squire Hazeldean gave to his son when about to dine with Dr Riccabocca, “Whatever you take, Frank, don’t touch his wines!” Those “cheap wines” have been tried—or, at least, if tried, have been condemned and discarded at every respectable dinner-table. They don’t suit the middle classes; that is an incontrovertible fact. We are not less sure they are equally ill suited to the tastes and requirements of the working-classes. They have hitherto been tried largely as a novelty; but they do not improve on acquaintance, even if we could forget the much better use which Mr Gladstone could have made of his opportunities. Depend upon it, Nature knows better than any Chancellor of the Exchequer how to provide for our bodily wants, and supplies the essential wants of each people from the products of their own country. Let our working-classes get good beer at its natural price, and it will be infinitely better for their health, and more to their taste, than giving them cheap foreign wines, whose thinness and acidity are not suited for our climate, and which cannot compete with beer as nourishers and supporters of the bodily strength. When we remember, on the one hand, that seven and a half millions sterling have been lost to the country in Mr Gladstone’s financial experiments; and, on the other, how much better would have been a reduction on the duties of tea, sugar, and beer, it will be admitted that he could hardly have wasted so much money with less benefit to the community. Abundance of acid wines and plenty of paper—it is a curious prescription for Mr Gladstone to found his reputation upon.

But Mr Gladstone is resolved to proceed in his eccentric course. His crotchet this year is to cheapen tobacco. Three and a half years ago (in November 1859) Mr Bright delivered two orations at public meetings in favour of the abolition of the duties on tea, sugar, and tobacco, and the substitution therefor of an enormous income-tax. But Mr Bright thought that the tea and sugar duties were more deserving of reduction than the duty on tobacco, whereas Mr Gladstone gives a preference to tobacco. How is this to be accounted for? On the surface it appears a new piece of financial eccentricity; and in every view of the matter the Chancellor of the Exchequer, we should think, will find no small difficulty in obtaining the consent of Parliament to his proposal. There can be no question that tea, sugar, and beer have each and all prior claims upon the favour of Parliament, if the wellbeing of the community is to be consulted. But Mr Gladstone, in the speech which he made when introducing his proposal, propounded the extraordinary doctrine that a Chancellor of the Exchequer (and of course the Government which must approve his acts) has nothing to do with the wellbeing of the community. His only duty, says Mr Gladstone, is to get as much money as possible out of the taxed commodities. Judged by this rule, Mr Gladstone has certainly been a most unsuccessful Minister. We cannot, indeed, accept this view of a Minister’s obligations to the country; but, even if it were accepted, it would not furnish any justification of Mr Gladstone’s proposal. He says that the present duty upon tobacco is so high that smuggling is carried on to a large extent, and cannot be prevented by the Custom-house officers. This would be a good argument for abolishing the duty or reducing it to a trifling amount, but it is totally inapplicable to the case when he proposes to leave a tax of five shillings a-pound on manufactured tobacco, which is more than equal to the price of the best manufactured tobacco, freight included. The smuggler would still make a profit of more than a hundred per cent on the value of the commodity; and does any one believe that smuggling would cease, or even be sensibly diminished, when the premium upon smuggling is so great, and when (as Mr Gladstone states) the facilities of evasion are so plentiful? If Mr Gladstone were honest in the plea upon which he rests his proposal for this reduction of customs-duty, he would be labouring under a great delusion. But we take another view of the matter. It seems to us that his real object is secretly to carry out Mr Bright’s scheme of finance, and with great craft he begins with the duties on tobacco, where his operations are least likely to excite suspicion, but which, if accomplished, will render the subsequent steps of the scheme not only easy but inevitable. There may be little to find fault with in the present proposal considered by itself; but what is its bearing in regard to our financial system? Reduce the duty on tobacco, and what other customs-duty can be maintained? Mr Gladstone was never more eloquent and plausible than when proposing to reduce the duty on foreign wines; now he is playing the same artful game in regard to tobacco. Can Parliament be any longer blind to the course to which he is committing it? Honest financiers, who could afford to make a reduction of taxation, would begin with tea, sugar, and beer, as the duties on these can be remitted with the greatest advantage to the community; while those on luxuries, such as foreign wines and tobacco, could be maintained without inconvenience or complaint. But just for this very reason Mr Gladstone, who aims at accomplishing Mr Bright’s scheme of taxation, begins at the other end—knowing well that if he can reduce the taxes on tobacco as well as on foreign wines, the _abolition_ of the other customs-duties will follow as a natural consequence. A reduction to the extent of one-half the duties on luxuries cannot be balanced save by totally abolishing the duties on the necessaries of life. We have a strong conviction that this is his game; for the good reason that upon no other supposition is his conduct intelligible. Mr Gladstone is not a fool; he must have an adequate motive for this seemingly crotchety course; and we believe we have named it. Let the House of Commons look to it, before they are led too far into the toils to be able to recede.