THE HARBOUR, COPENHAGEN.
Germany. The Prince of Noër warned the Powers that he would only acquiesce in the new order of succession on condition of its being stipulated by an International Treaty, similar in principle to that of Utrecht, that the Czar of Russia should in no case be permitted to wear the Danish Crown. After the intrigue between Palmerston and the Russian Minister, it was of course impossible to put this condition, which would alone have protected British interests, into the Protocol, which was subsequently expanded into the Treaty of 1852 and signed by Lord Malmesbury. This Treaty was known as the Treaty of London (8th of May, 1852), and so completely did Palmerston in 1863-64 feel that his policy and prestige were bound up with it, that he dragged the country to the verge of war to uphold its provisions. When the Treaty of London was signed, an inexplicable blunder was made by the Tory Government. The document was legally worthless unless ratified by the German Diet. But Lord Malmesbury permitted himself to believe that Austria and Prussia signed it as mandatories of the Diet, whereas, as a matter of fact, they took care merely to sign it in their individual capacities, as independent States. Other German States afterwards gave their sanction to it, but most of them with the reservation that the ratification of the Diet—that is, of Germany in her corporate capacity—should be obtained. Thus Palmerston’s settlement of the Danish succession was a Treaty which settled nothing, because he and Lord Malmesbury had been reckless enough to take it for granted that Austria and Prussia, in signing it, acted on a mandate from Germany, which they had neither sought nor obtained.
The arrangement of 1852 not only changed the Danish succession, but before it was made Denmark pledged herself to fulfil all her obligations to the Diet in regard to Holstein, to respect the old autonomy and privileges of both Duchies, to maintain their union, and never to incorporate them into Denmark proper. Frederick VII., under the influence of the Democratic party and a meddlesome mistress, repeatedly violated these engagements. He was perpetually attempting to undermine the independence of the Duchies, and the Diet was perpetually protesting against his policy.[164] At last, in March, 1863, he issued decrees dissolving the union of Sleswig and Holstein, and practically incorporating them in Denmark. Frederick VII. died on the 15th of November, 1863, and the father of the Princess of Wales succeeded him as Christian IX. His first act, done under Democratic menaces at Copenhagen, was to decree that legislative power in respect to the common affairs of Sleswig and Denmark, was to be vested in the King and the Danish Rigsraad, and that no law passed by the Rigsraad was to be dependent upon the passing of a similar law by the legislatures of either Sleswig or Holstein. This completed the subjection of the Germans in the Duchies to the Danes, and the very day after Christian IX. ascended the throne they accordingly retaliated by disputing his right to rule over them. The young Duke of Augustenburg thereupon claimed the sovereignty of the Duchies. True, his father had surrendered his rights. But, it was argued, a hereditary sovereign cannot surrender hereditary rights without the consent of his heir-apparent—just as the owner of an entailed estate cannot sell it, without the consent of his heirs in tail. On the 21st of November the Holstein Legislature refused to swear allegiance to Christian IX., after which Saxony, Bavaria, Hesse, and other German States resolved to support the claim of the Duke of Augustenburg to Holstein, and the Prussian Chambers passed a resolution in favour of vindicating the rights of the Duchies and of the Augustenburg family. On the 27th of December the Duke of Augustenburg was proclaimed Sovereign of Sleswig-Holstein, and on the 30th he made his entry into Kiel. On the 31st the Danish Cabinet resigned, and a new Ministry was formed by Bishop Monrad. The question of the Succession, so far as the German Diet was concerned, was simple enough. For the Diet the Treaty of London had no existence. Therefore the Landgravine Louise of Hesse was Queen of Denmark. As the Salic Law excluded her from the sovereignty of the Duchies, it was for the Diet purely an open question who had the best right to them.[165]
The domestic policy of the Government was not of much interest in 1863. Very early in the Session Mr. Gladstone introduced his Budget. The American War had sent the price of cotton up from 7d. to 2s. 1d. a pound, and trade was prostrate and stagnant in Lancashire. The agricultural wealth of Ireland from 1856 to 1860 had been, on the average, about £39,437,000[166] a year. But in 1863 it had fallen to £27,327,000—a decrease of £12,000,000, a sum not far short of the established annual valuation of the country, which was but £13,000,000. Ireland and Lancashire ought therefore to have made havoc with Mr. Gladstone’s estimates for the past year. So far from that being the case, the revenue, under the expansive influence of Free Trade, had risen to £67,790,000, or £805,000 over the estimates.[167] The expenditure had been £69,302,000, or £806,000 less than the estimates. For the coming year Mr. Gladstone accordingly estimated a revenue of £71,490,000 on the existing basis. Hence he had in view a surplus of £3,741,000, so that he saw his way to lessen the pressure of taxation on the people. He therefore reduced the Income Tax from 9d. to 7d. in the pound, readjusting its incidence so as to give more relief to small incomes. He reduced the tea duty to 1s. in the pound, and equalised the duties on chicory and coffee, but his attempts to levy Income Tax on public charities and trust corporations were defeated[168] after a somewhat acrid controversy. Mr. Gladstone’s argument was that their corrupt management really deprived most of the rich incorporated charities of a right to an appeal ad misericordium. He, however, pressed his point too far. His lurid picture of their administrative abuses tempted people to doubt whether the penal imposition of a sevenpenny Income Tax was the best means of dealing with such gigantic evils.
The lamented death of Sir George Cornewall Lewis in April not only brought confusion into the Cabinet, but it deprived the Queen of a valued
GENERAL GRANT.
friend, whose services she could ill afford to lose. “To me, dear Lady Theresa,” the Queen says in a letter to Sir George’s widow (15th April), “this is a heavy loss, a severe blow! My own darling had the very highest esteem, regard, and respect for dear Sir Cornewall Lewis; we delighted in his society; we admired his great honesty and fearless straightforwardness. We had the greatest confidence in him, and since my terrible misfortune, I clung particularly to characters like his, which are so rare. I felt he was a friend, and I looked to him as a support, and a wise and safe counsellor. He is snatched away, and his loss to me and to the country is irreparable. How little did I think, when I talked to him the last time here, and he spoke so kindly of my popularity, as he so kindly expressed it, that I should never see his kind face again.”[169] He was leader of “the Court Party” in the Cabinet, and was succeeded at the War Office by Earl de Grey.