“Do so, and with heed; for to me there is much here that involves my own life—much that is still a mystery, and which I think you can unravel!”
“I!” exclaimed Harley; and he was moving towards the secrétaire, in a drawer of which Leonard had carefully deposited the papers, when once more, but this time violently, the door was thrown open, and Giacomo rushed into the room, accompanied by Lady Lansmere.
“Oh, my lord, my lord!” cried Giacomo, in Italian, “the signorina! the signorina!—Violante!”
“What of her? Mother, mother! what of her? Speak, speak!”
“She has gone—left our house!”
“Left! No, no!” cried Giacomo, “She must have been deceived or forced away. The Count! the Count! Oh, my good lord, save her, as you once saved her father!”
“Hold!” cried Harley. “Give me your arm, mother. A second such blow in life is beyond the strength of man—at least of mine. So, so!—I am better now! Thank you, mother. Stand back, all of you—give me air. So the Count has triumphed, and Violante has fled with him! Explain all—I can bear it!”
THE EARL OF DERBY’S APPEAL TO THE COUNTRY.
When we addressed our readers, in the month of June last,[[10]] in a very earnest, and perhaps a somewhat apprehensive spirit, we declared that we did so “on the eve of a tremendous conflict, the results of which, in our deliberately formed opinion, shared by every thinking and experienced politician in the kingdom, affect the welfare of the Empire to an extent almost unprecedented, and also, at present, utterly incalculable.” That conflict has now taken place, or rather it is yet—while we are writing, very far on in this memorable month of July (the 24th inst.)—not quite over. It has been, indeed, a signal conflict: but between whom? And what is the issue? Has there been a victory, and consequently a defeat? Is it the Earl of Derby, sitting dismayed in his cabinet, from whose lips these sad words are at this moment falling, as he surveys the results of the general election of 1852, on which he had staked so much?—or is it his rival and opponent? But who is he?—or is his name legion? Is it Lord John Russell?—or Sir James Graham?—or the Duke of Newcastle?—or Lord Palmerston?—or, dropping for a moment to the dii minores, is it—Mr Cobden?
One fact is certain, that the Earl of Derby, on the 1st of July 1852, upon which day the writs were issued for a new election, deliberately gave battle to them all; having four months previously declared that he would do so. And on the occasion of making that declaration, he furthermore declared, in terms which no one could mistake, that he intended to do battle for the Constitution in Church and State—for the Protestant Constitution; and against those who were secretly or openly advancing to assail its integrity, under the baleful flag of Democracy and Popery. He and his advisers had been calm and quicksighted enough to see that such was the true nature of the great electoral struggle ordained to take place in the month of July 1852; and they had also sufficient sagacity and resolution to foresee and defeat the cunning and desperate attempts which would be made by their opponents, to disguise the true nature and real objects of the contest, and shift the scene of it to a disadvantageous and deceptive locality. Those, indeed, who made this attempt, were wise in their generation, and did the very best thing that the nature of things admitted. Conscious of occupying a discreditable and desperate position, through their own imbecility and recklessness, the only chance of regaining lost ground, and making a tolerated appearance before the country, lay in attempting to enlist popular sympathies; and the felicitous device was, to persuade the millions that their bread was in danger;—but this was to be done, if at all successfully, so very suddenly, that the falsehood should not be found out before it had gained its object. The Earl of Derby was to be exhibited before women and children as a vampyre, but only for a moment, lest the false colours should dissolve away while they were being looked at, and a wise and benevolent statesman appear in his true figure and colours. Hence the convulsive effort that was made, the moment it was announced that his gracious Mistress had summoned him in a critical emergency to her counsels, to precipitate him into a contest before he had had a moment’s time to survey his new position, to summon his advisers about him—to tell friends from foes—and see what were the precise objects which they had to keep in view. “If,” said they, “Lord Derby be allowed to go to the country at his own time, and in his own way, the country will welcome him as a deliverer from mischievous misrule. Let us, therefore, force him to select our time, and our place, for fighting the battle. If we hesitate, we are lost; for he is strong and skilful, and the country acute and honest.” In vain the Earl said to his eager opponents, “By your leave, gentlemen; for a moment, by your leave. What is the meaning of all this feverish fidget? What are you afraid of?” “That you will take away the people’s bread; reverse a wise and beneficent policy; and not only bid the sun of commercial prosperity stand still, but go back, and so plunge us all into confusion and despair.” “I assure you,” quoth the Earl, “I am not going to attempt any of these things. I love the people as much as yourselves, and, with you, am one of them. My interests, like your own, are identical with theirs: I wish only to secure the safety of our institutions, the common interests of the Queen and the people, against certain perils which I see distinctly, though you may not. And as to the corn question, in which you would tie up, and hide, and crush all others, I will have none of it. I have opinions of my own on the subject of corn laws, thinking it would be infinitely to the benefit of the community if I could at once derive a revenue for it from foreigners, and enable our own corn-growers to supply us with bread at a reasonable price, and foster and stimulate the energies of producers, and provide a safe, quick-paying home-market for them: thus protecting the interests of both the great classes of the community—producers and consumers. If, however, your long-continued and systematic agitation and misrepresentations have succeeded in persuading the masses of society that my own views on that subject are at variance with theirs, and that theirs they are resolved shall prevail, be it so; I will do all I can, less than which I should desert my duty in doing;—I will take care to submit that particular question, in order to dissipate all doubt, to the deliberate decision of the country; and whatever that decision may be, I will cordially carry it out. But do you seriously suppose that this question is the only one by which I must stand or fall?—the only one for which the Queen called me to her counsels? O no, gentlemen. Whichever way the pleasure of the country may lie upon this question, it is but one, and that a subordinate one, of several—nay, of many; it is but one, and a subordinate interest among several intrusted to my consideration and my keeping. Suppose the corn question totally set aside, and at rest, and yourselves called to advise the Sovereign, and carry on the government of the country, what would you do, then? You may pause; but I know well what you would do. Judging from your own repeated declarations, you would, under the pretence of liberalising our institutions, intrust power to incompetent hands, to be used only for the furtherance of your own selfish purposes; they would nominally, and you as demagogues practically,[[11]] be the depositaries of power. Your avowed principles are inconsistent with the maintenance of our national independence; of the connection between Church and State; of the Protestant character of our institutions: the Queen’s throne would be shaken, and her crown quiver upon her sacred brow, if you were intrusted with the power for which you are so anxious. I see distinctly before me the crimsoned darkness of anarchy, and through it the fabric of a republic crumbling under a military despotism. Now, gentlemen, I fear God and honour the Queen; I am heart and soul a Protestant; I am satisfied with our institutions, civil and religious, and believe that so are the people; but let them speak out for themselves on all these subjects, which I will submit to them with deliberate distinctness, despising your efforts to misrepresent my objects and principles, and await the decision with composure.” “Well, but, my Lord, how is this? Be so good as to tell us in detail what you are going to do if you should be continued in power; do not set us running about in search of shadows; do not amuse us with a series of dissolving views; give us something visible and tangible, in order that we may deal with it in our own way before the people.” “That is, in order that you may misrepresent it. No, my friends: you would have me do exactly what I will not do. It was by your own voluntary act that I am where I am. You should have considered consequences. I did, and have formed my purposes, and organised my plans. My character and principles are before the country, so are those of my colleagues. These principles I will reassert as emphatically as you please; and I pledge myself to carry them out in practice, if I have the opportunity.” “But you will delude the country: you will set them scampering in every direction after will-o’-the-wisps, while you and your myrmidons are quietly stealing their bread, and forging chains and dungeons for them.” “Well, gentlemen, tell the country as much: see whether they will believe you. It is a fair question between us. You say that yourselves, and your doings are thoroughly well known to them. Well, if that be so, go and prosper with the constituencies, for they will give you their confidence if they think that you deserve it. But observe, my good friends: if, thus knowing you and your doings, those constituencies should decide against you, and in favour of me, my friends, and our principles, even though I expressly withhold a distinct declaration of the way in which I purpose to act upon them, what will you then say? That those whom they knew they reject, and have chosen others?” It is an ugly dilemma! “But, my Lord, you impute to us principles and purposes which we repudiate: we are not wolves in sheep’s clothing; we are good, honest folk, the best friends the people ever had—in fact, their true, as you their false friends.” “Well, gentlemen, what is easier than to tell them so? You are only losing time yourselves, and making me lose precious time myself; for all our hands are full, having the Queen’s business to do in every quarter of the globe. Good morning, my friends, away to the constituencies.” On this, one may conceive that the colloquy ended, and the people’s imaginary deputation withdrew, with flushed faces, anxious brows, and disconcerted looks, to their council-chamber in Chesham Place. After a troubled silence, one lean flippant fellow among them possibly rose up, with his arms stuck a-kimbo, and said—“Lord Derby shall dissolve instanter: we will kick his people out of the House of Commons the very first day we meet, and so force him to dissolve; and I will bring out our trusty fellows of the League, subscribe a hundred thousand pounds, and in one month’s time annihilate the crazy Cabinet, and then there is an end of him!” But these wild counsels did not altogether prevail. The more steadily that matters were looked at by long-headed people, the more embarrassing was found the position which had been occupied. If the Earl of Derby should succeed in presenting himself to the people in his own way, and if they should think fit to say, “We will have no return to protective duties, but we feel that there is a great derangement of financial affairs which we believe you capable of rectifying; and, above all, we believe you a man of honour, and agree with you as to the existence of a dangerous conspiracy between Popery and Democracy:” where would then be those who had themselves driven him to appeal to the country? And as time wore on, it saw Faction baffled and crushed, and the new Ministers developing extraordinary aptitude for business; exhibiting uniform tact, temper, and firmness; overcoming obstacle after obstacle, formerly deemed insuperable; winning majorities in division after division, forced on them by their opponents; while no amount of newspaper stimulus could succeed in flurrying the spirits of the country into distrust or alarm. Not an opportunity was lost in either House of Parliament for gibing, taunting, misrepresenting, sedulously echoed by the Radical press out of doors, both metropolitan and provincial. In four months’ time, a skilfully-slandered Ministry succeeded in conducting to a satisfactory conclusion such a splendid amount of legislation as will ever render those four months memorable; and at the close of that eventful period, the Earl of Derby saw that the proper moment for appealing to the country had at length arrived: at the voice of the Queen, her Parliament dissolved away; and her people were free to choose another.