when played by its inventor, Herr Sommer—the only performer who could make it discourse music—was one of the marvels of a year singularly full of the marvellous. Next day the grand show was closed with somewhat scant ceremony, the Queen writing in her Diary, “How sad and strange to think that this great and bright time has passed away like a dream, after all its triumph and success.” It is curious to observe that in the contemporary expressions of public feeling which were prompted by the wind-up of the Exhibition, the same note of melancholy is sounded, as if there were abroad a half-conscious foreboding that the Festival of Peace was only too likely to be followed by War.
These forebodings were justifiable. Affairs abroad began to assume a threatening aspect. It has been shown how the enthusiastic demonstrations with which Louis Kossuth had been honoured in England had caused the Queen many anxious moments. Her mind was sadly troubled, also, by the ostentatious display of sympathy which Lord Palmerston extended to the Hungarian patriot, and by the veiled threat of Austria to recall her Ambassador if these demonstrations continued. Mr. Greville has somewhat maliciously said that the Queen’s feelings on this subject were caused by jealousy. Kossuth’s reception at Manchester, he observes, had been even more enthusiastic than her own. Hinc illæ lacrymæ. Here Mr. Greville does her Majesty a gross injustice. The abhorrence of the English Court for Austrian Absolutism was strong and unstinted, and most forcible expression is given to it in many letters from Prince Albert to Stockmar. England, however, was at peace with Austria, and had no interest in going to war with her. But the Queen argued that it would be impossible to keep up even the semblance of friendly relations with foreign States, if her Foreign Secretary were to pose as the friendly protector of every rebel leader who had attempted to upset their Government, or received addresses in which their rulers were stigmatised as “odious assassins.” Her anger against Lord Palmerston was not to be appeased by his apologists, who reminded her that he was taking a popular and democratic line, which was sure to win for the Queen the affection of the people, thereby more than compensating her for the loss of Austria’s goodwill. Her answer, penned by herself in a vigorous letter to Lord John Russell on the 21st of November, was:—“It is no question with the Queen whether she pleases the Emperor of Austria or not, but whether she gives him a just ground of complaint or not. And if she does so she can never believe that this will add to her popularity with her own people.”[44] We have already[45] described the action which was taken by the Cabinet in relation to this business, and it now remains to record the next quarrel which her Majesty had with Lord Palmerston, and which ultimately led to his expulsion from the Ministry.
On the morning of the 4th of December the Queen was at Osborne, and there she was informed of the coup d’état in Paris on the 2nd inst. The Prince-President, Charles Louis Napoleon Bonaparte, though he had sworn to protect the Republic, had, in concert with a clique of conspirators,[46] long before the 1st of December determined to restore the Empire. The first thing to do was to win over the army. The next to disgust the nation with Parliamentary institutions. The former task was easily accomplished. The latter, however, was somewhat more difficult, and the manner in which the conspirators set about it was most ingenious. Every newspaper that directed attention to the dangerous drift of the Prince-President’s policy was suppressed. He began to conspire, says Alexis de Tocqueville, “from November 10th, 1848. His direct instructions to Oudinot, and his letter to Ney only a few months after his election, showed his determination not to submit to Parliamentary Government. Then followed his dismissal of Ministry after Ministry, until he had degraded the office to a clerkship. Then came the semi-royal progress, then the reviews of Satory, the encouragement of treasonable cries, the selection for all the high appointments in the army of Paris of men whose infamous character fitted them to be tools. Then he publicly insulted the Assembly at Dijon, and at last, in October, we knew his plans were laid. It was then only that we began to think what were our means of defence, but that was no more a conspiracy than it is a conspiracy in travellers to look for their pistols when they see a band of robbers advancing.”[47]
Two powerful motives urged the Prince-President forward. The time for the revision of the Constitution was approaching, a fundamental law of which was that he was ineligible for re-election at the expiry of his term of office. This law virtually forced him to choose between usurpation and obscurity, unless he could get it revised in his interests. But it was evident to him that it would not be so revised, unless popular pressure were put upon the Assembly, by some imposing demonstration of the masses in his favour. To win their sympathies he demanded the abolition of the Electoral Law of May 31st, 1850. That law imposed a three years’ residential qualification on the voter, and in practice it reduced the electorate from 10,000,000 to 7,000,000 electors. The electoral law of May 31st was therefore the Prince-President’s moral weapon against the Assembly. The Assembly, however, refused to further his policy on both points, and endeavoured to protect itself against reprisals by authorising its President to exercise such control over the army as he might deem necessary for its protection. This in turn was resented by the Prince-President as an attack on the prerogatives of the Executive, and Cabinet after Cabinet fell in the course of the struggle between the Chief of the State and the Parliament. But the end was within sight when a Bill
THE COUP D’ÉTAT: LANCERS CHARGING THE CROWD IN THE BOULEVARDS OF PARIS.
determining the responsibility of the Prince-President and his Ministers was brought forward. It provided for the punishment and trial of Ministers and of the Prince-President in the event of their violating the Constitution, and it was the last measure of importance which the Chamber was permitted to consider. On the night of the 1st of December the Prince-President and his coadjutors secretly printed a number of decrees, which were posted before daybreak on the walls of Paris. These announced the dissolution of the National Assembly and of the Council of State; the abrogation of the law of May 31st, 1850; the convocation of the French electoral colleges from the 14th to the 21st of December; and the proclamation of a state of siege in Paris. The Prince-President further submitted to the electors a new programme, of which the chief points were (1), a responsible chief named for ten years; (2), Ministers dependent on the Executive alone; (3), a Council of State; (4), a Legislature elected by universal suffrage without scrutin de liste, and (5), a Second Assembly, or Senate, filled with all the illustrious persons of the nation. In a word, he proposed to revive the system under which the First Consul transformed France into a military Empire. Proclamations appealing to the army