CHAP. XVI.]

nothing was settled about the right of any party to discuss the privilege of parliament before the courts. Many openings were left for renewals of this painful and undignified kind of controversy; and perhaps the most important result was the warning given of this danger, and the hint to avoid, if possible, by the exercise of careful skill, temper, and knowledge, all occasion of collision between parliament with its privileges and the courts which protect the liberty of the subject.

When parliament met for the session of 1841, there was some curiosity to know what the ministers would do. Weak as they had long been, they were known to be weaker than ever, through some losses which had happened during the recess. They had now so often shewn that they could adhere to office under circumstances apparently hopeless-it was so evident that their fixed idea was that it was they who must govern the country, and that they relied on royal favour to the utmost extent to which it could go that a kind of wonder had grown up whether anything could dislodge them, short of a dangerous manifestation of popular discontent; and it had become a matter of calculation how that discontent could be manifested in a manner least inconsistent with the public peace. The ministers themselves were now soon to point out the way.

The speech was so framed as to make the address a matter of safe discussion. It was on domestic subjects that antagonism was most likely to arise; and the speech was confined to topics of foreign policy. The most prominent subject of the session was the renewal of the powers of the poorlaw commissioners for five years. After long debates and much wearisome and intricate discussion, the ministers obtained a majority; but the measure was dropped, with some others of importance, in the prospect of the dissolution of parliament which presently ensued. An alteration in the declaration taken by municipal officers, intended to open a way for Jews into corporation offices, was carried in the Commons, but thrown out by the Peers. When various measures had been brought forward by various parties, only to be negatived or thrown out, the time was come-the 30th of April-for the chancellor of the exchequer to make his financial statement; and this, it was believed, would be the occasion which should decide the fate of the ministry. It was known that the statement would be a melancholy one; and while the country was speculating on how the government would get over this crowning difficulty, it was entertained-really amused-with one of the Whig surprises, which had by this time failed to do more than amuse or excite contemptby Lord J. Russell giving notice that on the 31st of May he should move for a committee of the whole House, to consider the acts of parliament relating to the trade in corn.

No stronger indication of desperation could be given than this. The Anti-Corn-Law League was becoming strong, and carrying the people with it exactly in proportion as it spread knowledge of the case among them. This novel policy of the cabinet was obviously a desperate snatch at a popular interest-a last effort to recover popular support.

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The social determination to have a free-trade in corn was growing in strength from year to year; but the question was too important to be delivered into the charge of the Melbourne ministry. There was as yet no such pressure from without as would make them earnest, and keep them steady, in the conduct of a reform so important. That the members of the cabinet should all be true converts already, was wholly incredible; while it was only too credible that they would grasp at any means of popular support which should enable them to remain in office. If they, whose whole pretension was that of being reformers, had not throughout seen the truth in regard to the corn-laws, they saw it now too late for their respectability. A conversion which might have been truly respectable in a Conservative ministry placed under new lights, was in the highest degree suspicious in a reform administration which had been for several years in the illuminated position. The elections were soon to shew what the people thought of this demonstration; and meantime the House was in a state of high excitement.

The chancellor of the exchequer had to announce a deficiency of nearly two millions. Mr Baring went back to Lord Althorp's propositions about the timber and sugar duties, by changes in which he hoped to secure an increase of £1,300,000. For the other £400,000 required, he looked to the result of Lord J. Russell's motion on the corn-laws. The existing deficiency was to be made up by an issue of exchequer bills, and a resort to savings-bank funds. It did not strengthen popular confidence in the ministry that the revenue was now deficient, year by year; and that, instead of a remedy, loans were resorted to in time of peace. There was a prevalent discontent at Whig management of financial affairs; a prevalent conviction that the Whig ministry could not manage financial affairs; and a prevalent indignation that they kept in their own hands a business of such transcendent importance which they were incompetent to manage. During the month which was appointed to intervene between the introduction of the budget and of Lord J. Russell's propositions to alter the corn-laws, there was great agitation in the country. The ministers hoped, of course, to appropriate the aid of the whole Anti-Corn-Law party, and thus gave them time to organise their support; but there was as much commotion on the other side: a commotion which extended itself into the House of Lords, where the prime-minister was brought to acknowledge that he had changed his views, declaring that his former opinion was grounded on purely temporary circumstances; a limitation which he had certainly not been aware of when he declared, not long before, that the maddest of all the mad things he had ever heard of was the idea of giving up the corn-laws. Lord J. Russell found it best not to delay his announcement of the terms of his motion beyond the 7th of May. On that night, he declared his intention of proposing a fixed duty of 88. per quarter on wheat, of 5s. on rye, of 4s. 6d. on barley, and of 3s. 4d. on oats.

The debate on the sugar-duties had to be gone through first. It lasted eight nights, and ended in

the defeat of ministers by a majority of 36, in a House of 598. It was universally concluded that now the ministers would resign; and the House was divided between indignation and amusement when the chancellor of the exchequer rose in his place, the next night of meeting, and gave notice, as if nothing unusual had occurred, that on the Monday following, he should move the usual annual sugar-duties. Lord J. Russell then moved that the House should adjourn to that Monday. While the ministers were receiving the taunts of the opposition amidst the silence of the reformers present, the news spread along the crowded avenues of the House, together with the intimation that the corn question was to be brought forward on the 4th of June. The policy of the ministers was now supposed to be to endure any amount of defeat previous to the corn debate, and then to dissolve the House, in order to throw themselves upon the country as free-traders, when the agitation should be at its height. The whole country was immediately busy preparing for the elections; and Lord J. Russell indicated this as his reason for dropping the Poor-law Bill, saying that he would not give occasion for speeches in parliament intended for the hustings. The annual sugar-duties were agreed to; Sir R. Peel declaring that the proper opportunity for defeating ministers was not on that occasion, but in the form of a regular vote of want of confidence. This vote he obtained on the 4th of June, by a majority of one, in a House of 623 members. His resolution was: "That her majesty's ministers do not sufficiently possess the confidence of the House of Commons to enable them to carry through the House measures which they deem of essential importance to the public welfare; and that their continuance in office under such circumstances is at variance with the spirit of the constitution.' Lord J. Russell promised to make known on the next Monday the intentions of government; and on that day the avenues to the House were crowded as before.

The ministers, or a majority of them, had agreed that their best course would be to relinquish all discussion of the corn-laws for the present; to take a vote of supply for the exigencies of the public service for some months to come; and then, as they could rely upon no more majorities in that House, to dissolve parliament, and appeal to the country. They had tendered their advice to the crown to lose no time in dissolving parliament, and summoning a new one, in order to ascertain the opinion of the nation.

As might be expected, the House emptied rapidly after this explanation; and members dispersed themselves over the country, to manage their elections. It was universally understood that this election was of the last importance. In 1835, Sir R. Peel's fine statesmanship failed, because partics were yet too strong for him-too strong yet from the forces of the reform movement. His short administration had been of use in proving the increased liberality of his tendencies, and his good faith in purposing to maintain reforms actually and deliberately achieved. Since then, the Whigs had declined in power and repute; and they now held no place at all in popular

expectation. It remained to be seen whether the popular choice of future rule would turn towards him or them; whether it might not appear to the nation at large, as it did to many individual observers, as probable that Sir R. Peel would prove truly a popular leader, as it was now clearly impossible that the Whig ministry should ever be so again.

A small number of members remained in London to complete some necessary legislation; but various measures of importance were dropped. On the 22d of June, parliament was prorogued by the queen in person to the 29th of the same month; and on the 23d, a royal proclamation declared the parliament dissolved. The writs now issued were made returnable on the 19th of August.

Such were the circumstances under which the thirteenth parliament was dissolved, after a duration of four sessions, and nearly four years. How the nation would declare its opinions in the choice of the next was felt to be a matter of the deepest interest to the sovereign, the ministers, the land-owning peers, and the suffering people.

CHAPTER XVII.

NE of the strongest and most genial interests of the period now closing was the young queen. If the kindliness and open heart of William IV. had been refreshing after the temper and manners of his predecessor, the youthfulness and gaiety

of the new sovereign were now really exhilarating after the spectacle of so many years--of a feeble old man in the royal carriage. At first, the queen was in high spirits -liking to see and be seen; driving in the parks when they were most thronged; dining at Guildhall; and saying, as she went down to open the parliament: Let my people see me.' There were smiles on her face, and she met nothing but smiles and acclamations. On that 9th of November, when she went to dine at Guildhall, London did not look like itself, with its gravelled streets, and avenues of green boughs and flags; and the old hall itself, usually so dingy and dirty, seemed to have grown young for the occasion-brilliant as it was with decorations, with crimson cloth and silk, with flags and banners, and armour glittering among the innumerable lights. Under the magnificent canopy, in the gorgeous chair of state, was seen no portly elderly gentleman, fatigued almost before the festivities had begun; but the slight figure of the young girl, all health and spirits, who half rose and bowed round to her relations-her mother, her uncles, aunts, and cousins-when the health of the royal family was proposed. There were reviews in the Parks, where all London seemed to have poured out to see the queen, who, as was always said, 'looked remarkably well,' and enjoyed the greetings of her subjects. Then there was the coronation-that bright day when there was not standing-room left for another

live to be as old as any one there. The sensation on her entering was a wonderful moment. Before, a painful sleepiness had oppressed those who had sat so many hours in that strangest of positionsidle, full-dressed, under bright sunshine, in a vast crowd; but the burst of music, rushing among the arches, and ringing from the roof, wakened up the senses and the soul in a moment; and all rose by one impulse to their feet, to see the small figures that passed in procession below, and the slightest of all, on which every eye was fixed. With all the support that loyal sympathy could give, it seemed as

if the sovereignty must be cruelly oppressive; for here the antique conception of British regality pervaded the entire ceremonial-a regality which had immeasurably more of power and personalty in it than is true in our day. The service, if it had not been antique in its cast, would have been shocking, with its mixing up of worship to God with homage to the sovereign, savouring of the old belief of divine right. The ancient Edward's mantle of cloth of gold looked cumbrous and oppressive, and the sceptre and orb too heavy; and it was a relief to remember that the regal power was not now what these symbols

represented, and that the responsibility was lightened in proportion. Such as it remained, there was every indication this day that, under this lessened responsibility, all support would be given that the affection of the people could yield.

Soon followed events which must have made these shows-even the greatest of them-appear trivial to the sovereign. Her marriage ensued; and we find in the registers of the time, notices of Prince Albert's name being inserted, by command of the queen in council, 'in all the prayers, liturgies, and collects for the royal family;' and of the prince becoming a citizen of London in Guildhall; and next, of the registrar of the Belgrave district being summoned to Buckingham Palace, to enter on the registrationbooks of St George's, Hanover Square, the birth of a royal infant. The christening ensued, but not next in order; for, the day before, Prince Albert, while skating in the presence of the queen and one lady of the court, ran some risk from the breaking of the ice. He could not have got out by himself; but the ladies kept their presence of mind, and saved him. In another year, on the 9th of November 1841, the heir to the throne was born. Amidst the general joy and congratulations, there were many who thought of the new-born child with pity and solicitude, feeling that it is in our days no privileged lot to be born to a throne, even in England, where the limitation of the kingly power makes the throne safer than elsewhere. In a century overclouded by the approach of a war of opinion in Europe, princes are born to a life of toil and solicitude if they are to be made equal to their station, and to real evils-for toil and solicitude are in themselves no evils-if they are not made equal to their station. But here was the great immediate blessing that the queen had a son; and all were ready to rejoice with her.

As for the state of the people, their condition had been declining almost from the beginning of this period to the end; and it was too clear that they were sinking still. The operatives were first employed half-time; then they had no work, and were known to be living upon their savings; then there were public meetings, to consider what could be done, and public subscriptions which came to an end while still no prospect opened; and then there were a thousand operatives employed on the roads in one place, and 5000, 10,000, 14,000 seemed to be merely waiting for alms or death in others. As usual, crime began to abound. The murders came in batches-horrible poisonings, combination murders, murders for purposes of theft, from the nobleman in his bed to the sawyer in his pit, abound in the chronicles of the period. New crimes arose, not bearing an immediate relation to the distress; as a vitiated atmosphere produces not only one frightful epidemic, but new or aggravated disease of other kinds. Ships were cast away, one after another, from wretches boring holes to sink them, in order to obtain the insurance. A plot for the commission of extensive forgery was matured and put in action on the continent, by a few scamps, hitherto called noblemen and gentlemen-some Scotch, some foreign -whose object was to defraud several European

banks to a large amount, by forging the circular letters of credit of a London bank, and presenting the supposed letters of credit in various continental cities on the same day, or before communication could be established. The Times newspaper, having received early information of the plot, ran the risk of action for libel and other consequences, in order to put the commercial world upon its guard. It succeeded in this object, was prosecuted for libel, and condemned in damages of one farthing. Its bold course, both in giving warning, and afterwards in pleading justification of the libel, won for its proprietors the public admiration and gratitude, which were expressed in the form of a handsome subscription for a testimonial. The proprietors declined the testimonial for themselves, and requested that the money might be spent for the public benefit. After two tablets, recording the facts, had been put up in the Royal Exchange and the office of the Times, the fund was devoted to the establishment of two scholarships, to be given to youths elected from London schools to the universities. As might be expected, the game-law murders of the period were many and shocking. In the best times, there are hungerers enough in the rural districts to make it dangerous for gentlemen to preserve game at the cost of a vast amount of human food, consumed by hares and birds before the eyes of starving men; and in a season of distress, the sight is one not to be endured. We find accordingly a long list of poachings and the consequent murders; and at the same time the most effective enemy of the game-laws in their stronghold, the House of Lords, died-too soon for this as for many another good cause-Lord Suffield, who died in the summer of 1835, in his fifty-fourth year. Perhaps, if he had lived to this time, we might have been released from the game-laws, which are a disgrace to our law-books, to our practice of professing reform of abuses, and to the praise we utter in our churches of justice and mercy, and care lest we cause our brother to offend. Even these things are, however, less fearful than one manifestation of the time, which tells as much as the new practice of poisoning for the sake of payments from burial-clubs.

The

While the temperance cause seemed to be advancing everywhere, and tea-drinkings with speeches, and dances with music and lemonade, were noticed in newspapers, almost from day to day, certain disclosures were made at a meeting of the Westminster Medical Society in 1839, which appalled the few who heard or attended to the information. increase of the consumption of opium in England had led to inquiry. It was found that the abjuration of intoxicating drinks was little more than a set-off against the increased consumption of opium. The insurance offices were consulting how to defend their interests under this new peril to human life: they could guard against liability from opium-eating in future policies of insurance; but they found their capital in danger from the intemperance of persons already insured. It was not only, nor chiefly, in the insuring class of society that the practice existed. It spread far more fearfully among the hungry. In the large manufacturing towns, the druggists now employed their spare minutes throughout the week

CHAP. XVII.]

in making up penny or two-penny packets of opium for sale on Saturdays, when hundreds of poor creatures would come to receive from the long rows on the counter the packet which was to give them stupor till the miserable Monday morning.

The churches were active, as if trying all this time to heal these social woes. There was much building of new churches in London and elsewhere; and, while the desperate poor were emigrating in shoals-getting away at all hazards from the sickening scene at home-exertions were made by bishops and religious societies to provide for the endowment of bishoprics in the colonies. Much zeal was shewn by the three great church societies for missionary objects, during the whole of this period, and noble sums of money were raised. But the misery and crime to be dealt with were not of a kind to be remedied by a provision for worship; and it was observable, that while the existing churches bore a very small proportion to the population of their districts, they yielded more room than was occupied. Churches come of religion; but religion does not come of churches. An obstacle to the operation of religion on the masses' was the intolerance of spirit which yet remained from the critical period which has been before described. The Peterborough bishop, Dr Herbert Marsh, whose eighty-seven questions had first occasioned the open divisions in the Church, died at this time, in 1839, leaving the religious world yet heaving with the tempest, of which he furnished the first squall. The sects

within and without the Church were yet quarrelling; the Catholics were increasing in numbers, founding new institutes, and building new chapels; Protestant clergymen were not only declaring at public meetings against grants to Maynooth, but detailing every instance of superstition they met with among poor Irish and other ignorant Catholics, to excite hatred against the priests. Here and there, Dissenters were carried to prison for refusal to pay church-rates which they were assured by lawyers could not be legally levied; while a pious ship-agent-who was happily defeated in the courts-was endeavouring to make deductions from the wages of the Catholic and Presbyterian among the crew, because they objected to attend the Church service on board ship; and a clergyman here and there was refusing burial to persons baptised by lay-preachers out of the Church, or by dissenting clergy. And, as an illustration of the need there now is of provision for liberty of conscience in regard to oaths, a case occurred which did not tend to interest the poor and suffering in favour of religion, when an insolvent, a man of good moral character,' entitled otherwise to his discharge, was sent back to prison, and kept from working to maintain his 'starving children and unhappy wife,' because the commissioner could not administer the necessary oath to a person who, like this man, did not believe in a future life. The fault was not in the commissioner; nor yet in the man; for, if he had been capable of dishonesty, he would have professed the belief required for his enlargement. The fault was in the imposition of penalties for opinion; and it was one likely, as far as it was known, to operate in alienating the ignorant and the

587

careless alike from the religion in whose name such things were done.

An incident was in the meantime happening which preached a softening and sanctifying lesson, uninterrupted by theological jars and social bigotry. In a light-house on the coast of Northumberland, within view of the Fern Islands, lived a family of the name of Darling. The night of the 6th of September 1838 was stormy; and the Forfarshire steam-boat, whose boiler was in bad order, struck on one of the Fern Islands, and parted in two. Darling, becoming aware of the wreck, at three in the morning, desired to put off in his boat, to render assistance; and his daughter Grace, a simple-hearted girl of twenty-two, prepared, as a matter of course, to go with him. The wife and mother, seeing how stormy the sea was, opposed their purpose, and at last consented only on the condition that she might share their peril. When they were stepping into the boat, her husband represented to her that, by occupying a place in the boat, she would deprive one passenger of a chance for life, whereas, by remaining at home, she might be of use in making fires, and preparing blankets, and clothes, and food for those whom he might bring. She consented, and passed an agonising hour while they were gone. By Darling's prudence, decision, and authoritative tone to the half-frantic survivors on a ledge of rock, he and his daughter accomplished the saving of nine lives. Grace thought nothing of her share in the deed, and never could understand the sensation that it caused throughout the kingdom. She always said, and truly, that there were girls all along the coast who would and did accompany their fathers and brothers to sea in storms, when they were called on to preserve life; and it is the noblest part of the noble lesson afforded by this event, that we are reminded of the virtue which lives and acts in quietness while the turbulent elements of human life and society are making tempests upon the surface. An event like this discloses to us occasionally the moral riches which shine in our depths; and then the fate of the unconscious revealer is something like that of Grace Darling. Her name flew abroad over the world. As she sat at her sewing in the little room in the lighthouse, the world came to pay her homage. The rich, the high-born, and the good, visited her. Those who could not come sent poems, or books, or money. The protection of her father was not enough under the pressure of suitors and worshippers; and the Duke of Northumberland made himself her guardian, took care of her money, kept an eye upon her lovers, and promoted, as far as he could, the quietness she longed for. But there was no more quietness for her. Her life had lost its simplicity, though her mind and manners never did. Her health gave way under the impossibility of repose; and she died in a few years-as much a martyr to her own deed as if the boat had been swamped in its passage to the rock. Seldom has so tender a sorrow spread through the heart of the nation as when the newspapers told of the death of Grace Darling. She had found quiet, however; and a more intense image of repose can scarcely be presented than her monument, where she lies with her oar resting on her arm. That