I am told, perhaps incorrectly, that Prussia has decided to remain neutral—at first, at any rate; and, by the same authority, that Russia will be neutral, but in a spirit friendly to France. This would be very serious; for Russia gives nothing for nothing. If it is so, the Emperor's project would appear less silly. It would explain how an ambitious prince, whose throne is tottering, who is bound to excite the admiration of France and to gratify the national vanity, [Footnote: Fleury, one of the most faithful and attached of the Emperor's followers wrote in words almost identical (Souvenirs, tom. i. p. 330): 'C'était par une série de faits grandioses par des spectacles flattant l'orgueil et les instincts du pays, que Napoleon III allait, pendant de longues années, non seulement occuper, réjouir la France, mais encore fixer l'attention, l'étonnement et bien souvent l'admiration du monde.'] who is stopped by no scruples, might find it an excellent opportunity for bringing on a personal war—if I may say so; for driving the Germans across the Alps and naming himself the Dictator of Italy. It is true that no great material advantage can result from it; but L. N. is sufficiently well acquainted with France to know that the glitter of such a course would probably content her. All this would be easy to understand if Maria Theresa reigned at Vienna, Frederic at Berlin, and Mme. de Pompadour at Versailles; in a word, if we were in the eighteenth instead of the nineteenth century. But being, as we are, in the nineteenth century, the designs which are ascribed to the Emperor are to be condemned as in the highest degree treasonable to humanity and to France. Kings can no longer claim to be guided only by their personal interests and passions; and now—when it is agreed that England cannot remain neutral in a war between France and a great Continental Power; when it is admitted that a Continental war, however short, would surely awaken the hatred of all princes and all neighbouring people, and would end in a coalition against France—now, I say, to plunge into such an adventure would be not only the most silly, but the most wicked thing which a Frenchman could do.
La longueur un peu désordonnée de cette lettre, mon cher ami, vous prouvera mieux que tout ce que je pourrais dire les progrès de ma santé. Je vais écrire à Mme Grote. Rappelez-nous, je vous prie, tout particulièrement au souvenir de Lady Theresa et de Sir C. Lewis. J'espère que Lord Hatherton ne m'a pas oublié. Mille et mille amitiés à tous les Senior. Je n'ai pas besoin d'en dire autant pour Mme et Mile Reeve. Tout à vous de coeur, A. T.
Reeve replied immediately:—
62 Rutland Gate, 1 mars.—Votre lettre me fait le plus sensible plaisir. Les nouvelles indirectes de votre santé qui me sont parvenues de temps en temps m'avaient excessivement préoccupé. J'ai su que le mois de janvier avait été mauvais, et quoique j'eusse bien des fois l'envie de prendre la plume, elle m'est tombée des mains lorsque j'ai réfléchi que j'ignorais malheureusement dans quel état de corps et d'esprit ma lettre pourrait vous trouver. Pendant tout l'hiver j'ai reçu par lettre et de bouche une infinité de demandes sur votre état. Vous ne sauriez croire à quel point tous vos amis d'Angleterre, qui sont encore plus nombreux que ceux dont vous avez une connaissance personnelle, m'ont témoigné pour vous d'intérêt, de considération et d'affection. Aussi votre convalescence est une bonne nouvelle pour nous tous—les Lewis, les Hatherton, les Grote, Knight-Bruce et tant d'autres. Je me permets cependant de dire que le sentiment que j'ai eu toutes les fois que je me suis transporté par la pensée à votre chambre de malade est bien autrement profond. Mon amitié pour vous est une des affections les plus vives qu'il m'ait été donné de conserver. Je n'ai rien de plus cher. Et l'idée que vous souffriez tant de mal, sans qu'il me fût possible de vous offrir le moindre soulagement, m'à été extremement pénible. Pour un malade la lecture de mes 'Catacombes' ne me paraît pas excessivement gai, mais je reconnais là votre aimable souvenir de l'auteur. Bref, vous êtes en convalescence. Le soleil printanier, même dans nos climats, luit d'un éclat extraordinaire. Déjà au mois de février les arbustes poussaient des feuilles. Dieu veuille que cette douce chaleur de l'année vous rende bientôt à la santé et à la Normandie.
There is no doubt that the state of public affairs is more serious than it has been since 1851. [Footnote: Sc. in France, before the Coup d'état.] The meaning of what has lately been going on in public, and of the secret plots which have been hatching for a long time, is very clear. As to France, I say nothing; for, after all, she has the chances of success, which will smooth away many apparent difficulties. But the peace of Europe depends on Germany and on England. Shall we succeed in maintaining it? The attitude of England is, I think, good. Without any hostile demonstration, she has shown very clearly that she will be no party to any breach of the treaties. Lord Cowley's mission to Vienna has been arranged between him and the Emperor, but I have no faith in it. It is merely a device to make people think he is acting in agreement with the English Cabinet, and so conceal a scheme to which the English Cabinet is totally opposed. Opinion here is unanimous against French intervention in Italy. Unfortunately, we are in a very bad position at home. The Cabinet is deplorably weak, and it has just lost two of its principal members. The Reform Bill, brought in yesterday, raises more questions than it answers; but it will probably serve to give prominence to the dissensions in the Liberal party. 'Tis a real misfortune; for a disunited party cannot assert any influence in Europe.
Lord Brougham is returning to Cannes, though with little inclination to stay among such grave causes of anxiety. So long as France is free to act by sea, the road to Italy does not lie through Var, but in the ports of Toulon and Marseilles. Shall you soon be hearing the guns of the second Marengo?
The action of England at this important crisis was curious, but characteristic. The destinies of Europe were shaking in the balance; the fortunes of France, of Italy, of Austria, probably also of Prussia, and very possibly of Russia, were at stake; so the English Government thought it a suitable opportunity to tinker the constitution and introduce a Reform Bill—which nobody seems to have wanted—mainly, it would seem, to 'dish' the Whigs. It was, however, they themselves who were dished. Mr. Henley, the President of the Board of Trade, resigned on January 27th. So also did Mr. S. H. Walpole, [Footnote: Mr. Walpole died, at the age of 92, on May 22nd, 1898.] the Home Secretary, who wrote to Lord Derby: 'I cannot help saying that the measure which the Cabinet are prepared to recommend is one which we should all of us have stoutly opposed if either Lord Palmerston or Lord John Russell had ventured to bring it forward.' None the less, the Bill was introduced on February 28th. On the second reading it was negatived; a dissolution and a general election followed; and on the meeting of Parliament, in June the Ministry were defeated on an amendment to the Address, and resigned.
But though the want of confidence appeared to be based on the question of the Reform Bill, there is no doubt that there was a widespread mistrust of the foreign policy of the Government. For some years past, perhaps ever since Mr. Gladstone's celebrated Neapolitan letters in 1851, successive waves of sentiment in favour of Italian independence and unity had passed over the country; and Lord Derby, or Lord Malmesbury, had perhaps fancied that this sentiment might be invoked in their defence. They had not, indeed, taken any overt action, but there was a general idea that they were inclined to favour the designs of Italy and of France. Now, to favour the cause of Italian independence was one thing; to favour the ambitious and grasping schemes of France was another; and the leaders of the Liberal party were not slow to denounce the Government, which—as they alleged—was ready to plunge the country into war for the sake of currying favour with the master of the insolent colonels of 1858.
Reeve's own view of the questions at issue may be gathered from the letters which he wrote to the 'Times,' [Footnote: January 19th, The Policy of France in Italy; April 28th, The Policy of France, both under the signature of 'Senex.'] and more fully, more carefully expressed in the article 'Austria, France, and Italy' in the 'Edinburgh Review' of April. In this he distinctly combats 'what is termed the principle of "nationalities"' as unhistorical. The theory is, he says, 'of modern growth and uncertain application;' and he goes on to show in detail that it is not applicable to any one of the Great Powers of Europe.
'Of all the sovereigns now filling a throne, Queen Victoria is undoubtedly the ruler of the largest number of subject races, alien populations, and discordant tongues. In the vast circumference of her dominions every form of religion is professed, every code of law is administered, and her empire is tesselated with every variety of the human species…. But above and around them all stands that majestic edifice, raised by the valour and authority of England, which connects these scattered dependencies with one great Whole infinitely more powerful, more civilised, and more free than any separate fragment could be; and it is to the subordination of national or provincial independence that the true citizenship of these realms owes its existence…. It is the glory of England to have constituted such an empire, and to govern it, in the main, on just and tolerant principles, as long as her imperial rights are not assailed; when they are assailed, the people of England have never shown much forbearance in the defence of them. Such being the fact, it is utterly repugnant to the first principles of our own policy, and to every page in our history, to lend encouragement to that separation of nationalities from other empires which we fiercely resist when it threatens to dismember our own.'