DEATH OF MR. HUSKISSON.
Among the most interesting events of this year may be reckoned the opening of the Liverpool and Manchester railway. It was, however, attended by a lamentable catastrophe. Mr. Huskisson, as one of the members for Liverpool, accompanied the Duke of Wellington in the procession; and, neglecting the caution given to visitors against leaving the carriages, he was knocked down by one of the returning engines, and his leg was so dreadfully crushed, that amputation could not be performed. He died of that disorder called tetanus, which commonly occurs after extensive lacerated wounds. His character is recorded in the previous pages of this history.
STATE OF FOREIGN NATIONS.
The revolutions in France and Belgium have already been noticed. The spirit of insurrection displayed in these countries extended itself to Leipsic, Dresden, Hesse-Cassel, Hamburgh, Berne, Basle, and Poland. In this latter country, however, the insurrection did not arise from civil discord, or political machinations, but rather from the harsh and insulting proceedings of Duke Constantine, its viceroy. It was a light to guide and warm a noble people to attempt their national redemption from the hand of a foreign and tyrannical master. A contest took place in the streets of Warsaw, between the people and the Russian troops, and the latter were expelled the city. Subsequently the grand duke was obliged to retire from the frontier, but not till it had been represented to him that it was the universal wish of the nation that the constitution should be carried into complete execution; that the promise of Alexander should be fulfilled, of incorporating with Poland its ancient provinces now under the dominion of Russia; but that no demands pointed to the dethronement of the emperor as their king, in whose name all the changes lately made in the government had been effected. The Poles, however, being doubtful in what light Nicholas, Emperor of Eussia would regard their proceedings, prepared for resistance, should he be determined to treat them as rebels. General Klopicki was named commander-in-chief of the army, and he soon found himself at the head of a powerful force. All the Polish regiments joined the cause of the people; but, divided and mutilated as Poland was, it seemed a hopeless prospect for a portion of it to engage in a struggle with the gigantic power of Russia. Fears were also entertained—and they were too soon realised—that Austria and Prussia, in fear for their plunder, would be adverse to its cause. Notwithstanding, the Poles made themselves ready for the contest with stout hearts. To secure energy and promptitude in their measures, they invested Klopicki, after the manner of the Romans of old, with dictatorial power. But even in assuming this office, which was to endure till the chambers of the diet, which were convoked for the 18th of December, could be assembled, the dictator disclaimed any design on the part of Poland of throwing off its king, or of demanding anything more than to enjoy under that king, an independent national existence, with the free constitution which had been promised. “The Poles,” said Klopicki, “know how to be faithful; and when all Europe abandoned him before whose victorious eagles the nations had prostrated themselves, the Polish battalions, firm in the hour of reverses, never ceased till the last moment to range themselves round the fallen conqueror. But in the present instance the power of evil had overstepped all bounds; it was impossible to convey the language of truth to the head of the state; flatterers, greedy of reward and prodigal of calumnies, gave us every day new chains instead of liberty. Never was insurrection more legitimate. No; the king himself will be forced to admit the justice of our cause, when he comes to know the extent to which he was abused.” But what could the unhappy Poles have expected from the mercy of the haughty autocrat Nicholas? They sent two commissioners to St. Petersburg, in order to attempt to arrange some terms of compromise; but the emperor refused to listen to their representations, and issued proclamations in which he threatened to inflict on the Poles the most severe punishment for what he called “their horrid treason.” The year closed with a storm thickly gathering over the unhappy country of Poland.
In Spain, Ferdinand deeply offended the Carlists by his abolition of the salique law in favour of the child, if it should be a female, with which his queen was pregnant, and thus gave rise to a war which long desolated the northern provinces of Spain, as well as to the quadripartite treaty, under which it was hoped that the country might enjoy the blessings of a constitutional government. When the infant was born, it proved to be a daughter, and the nation was called upon to proclaim Don Carlos immediately. A civil war commenced; but the Carlists were at the close of the year so far subdued as to leave the government in apparent security. In Portugal, Don Miguel, still cut off from direct communication with European sovereigns, except his brother of Spain, continued, by means of special commissions, to take vengeance on those of his subjects suspected of political delinquencies, and to supply his wants by the confiscation of their property. Blood had, it is true, ceased to flow; but a more terrible and lingering destruction was ensured to his victims by their deportation to servitude in the African settlements. In the beginning of the year about fifty persons, whose only offence was that of being suspected of being malcontents, were shipped off for Angola. These unhappy men, though of good families, and respectable characters, were chained up with the most abandoned ruffians, robbers, and assassins, and doomed to the same punishment. In the middle passage, they were even stowed away in the smallest compass possible, like the slaves of Africa, while the best places were assigned to the malefactors; magistrates, members of the cortes, and other reputable persons occupied the most deadly and pestilential berths. Out of respect for their former situation in life, and pity for their present sufferings, they were for some time spared the fatigues of hard labours; but the superintendent soon received orders to discontinue this lenity. Nor were the political prisoners confined in the dungeons at Lisbon much better treated. They could scarcely obtain trials, and when declared innocent, they could not gain their liberty. The treatment they received may be seen from a petition which those confined in the castle of St. Julian presented to Miguel against their jailer:—“The prisoners of the tower of St. Julian have been lodged in the worst cells, subterraneous, dark, exposed to rain and all weathers, and so damp that it has frequently been necessary to strew the ground with furze, to enable them to walk on it. They have occupied apartments only nine yards long and three yards wide; and these being crowded, the temperature has been raised to such a degree as to cause cutaneous eruptions, and other complaints. Among these sufferers are the Spanish bishop, Dr. Diego Munoiz Torrero, Doru. Ant. Pinho, and J. Ant. Cansado, these latter being already declared innocent by the commissioners. In one of these cells a complete inundation has occurred more than once, leaving a continual dampness, and causing a consequent deterioration of health. Besides this dreadful state, sir, the governor has ordered the windows to be closed, to shut out the few spans of light of the heavens, and the fresh air, the only remaining part of it being from the fissures of the door, whereto the prisoners apply in turn their mouths, to breathe particles of that air which the Almighty spreads so unsparingly to all animals and living beings. Another cell, called the principal one, from below, is also inhabited, and so dark that, let the sun be as brilliant as possible, six lights will not suffice to lighten it, being twenty steps below the surface of the ground. Such, sir, has been the habitations of your prisoners, not for the space of a few days, but for eighteen, twenty, and twenty-three months; whereas several other better cells are occupied by only three or four prisoners.” The petition further stated that the food given to them was of the most revolting kind; and that those who were sick were thrust into solitary confinement, in dungeons without light, without water, food, or bed, and filled with vermin. But the heart of Miguel was steeled against this petition. It was in vain that complaints were poured into his ears; nor did the death of his mother, who had been blamed for much of this cruelty, and who this year was called to her account at the bar of an offended Maker, make any change in the proceedings of a disposition which her maxims had deadened to the voice of mercy. Earl Grey, on assuming the reins of government, very properly refused to make an alliance with such an infamous usurper; notwithstanding, he was blamed for this line of policy by the members of the late administration. Towards the close of the year, indeed, there were signs of a rupture between the two countries. Part of the Portuguese navy was employed in an attempt to blockade Terceira, where the regency, in the name of the young queen, was still ruling. Miguel made the non-success of these vessels a pretext for seizing some English ships; and threats from the government were resorted to before he would give up the pretended prizes to their owners. Then the usurper relinquished his prey, and war was averted.
The administration of Greece, during the present year, remained in the hands of Capo d’Istrias and his partisans. The allied powers, however, were occupied in attempting to make arrangements for the permanent settlement of its government. The crown was tendered by them to Prince John of Saxony, who declined it. Several candidates were then passed over in favour of the pretensions of Prince Leopold of Saxe Coburg, and the sovereignty was unanimously offered to him; but, though he had been once anxious for the prize, he also finally rejected it. The causes of his rejection of it were these:—Early in the year the prince wrote to Capo d’Istrias to announce his acceptance of the sovereignty, and to communicate to the Greek community the efforts he had made, and was still making, to obtain from the allied sovereigns as many advantages as possible for the new state. The count, however, did not like the idea of relinquishing his power; and he transmitted letters and documents expatiating on a variety of objections to the arrangements of the allies, and on the dissatisfaction which they had produced throughout Greece. These letters and documents excited the apprehensions of the prince; and the horrors of an embarrassed administration, and of discontented, unruly subjects, prevailed over the glittering radiance of a crown. At the same time the illness of George IV., which was likely to terminate fatally, opened to him new prospects. The question, therefore, regarding the new boundaries of the kingdom, and the separation of Candia from its territory, formed a ready pretext for his rejection of the offer. The three allied courts endeavoured to change his determination; but their efforts were unsuccessful; he definitely declined the crown.
Before the revolution of July, the French government had sent a powerful fleet and army, under the command of General Bourmont, against the dey of Algiers. Bourmont was successful; the dey capitulated, and retired to Naples, leaving the head of the piratical states in the hands of the conquerors. The expedition was principally undertaken to obtain the glory of a military exploit which had baffled the most powerful nations of Europe, and of thus creating popularity for the despotic ministers of Charles X. But no exploit could raise them in the estimation of the people; monarch and statesmen alike were overthrown; and when the expatriated dey heard of the event, he exclaimed, “Allah! Allah! God is great, and the avenger of injustice.”
In Belgium, where Prince Leopold finally obtained a crown, the progress of military events was interrupted by foreign interference. The kingdom of the Netherlands had been created by Great Britain, Austria, Russia, Prussia, and France, which powers held themselves bound to look after their work. Some of them wished to compel the Belgians to submit by force. The Rhenish provinces of Prussia were directly opposed to the infection of that spirit which had severed the United States; the Germanic confederation was already attacked by formal claims on Luxembourg; and the King of the Netherlands had appealed to the allied powers to preserve the throne which they had created. On the other hand, it was certain that the new government of France would favour the independence of Belgium, and its people would desire nothing more ardently than a pretext for war, which might terminate in the restoration of these provinces to her dominion. One party in Belgium, indeed, openly declared that her interests demanded a reunion with France; and that there was no doubt that she would receive the protection of that power in case any of the allies should attempt to preserve her connexion with Holland. To avoid war, therefore, the allies agreed to interpose their good offices; and as their first object was to stop hostilities, a protocol, signed at London on the 4th of November, bound all parties to negotiation rather than to have recourse to the sword. These negotiations involved many difficulties, and were counteracted by many conflicting interests; but their result, as will be seen, was the erection of Belgium into an independent kingdom.