The adjournment of Parliament for the Whitsuntide holidays has been
largely made use of for the purpose of visiting the Exposition at Paris,
so that little or
[Page 102]
nothing of
interest has occurred here. The attempt to assassinate the Emperor of
Russia has created a great sensation all over Europe, but its immediate
effect has been so far to change the current of popular sentiment at
Paris as to turn what seemed at first a very doubtful experiment into a
great success. In order to show the feeling that prevails in this
country in consequence of the accounts of the brilliant display in
France, I have the honor to transmit a copy of the London Times, of
yesterday morning, containing a leading article on the position taken by
the Queen, which I have reason to believe fairly represents the views of
the governing classes.
Hon. William H. Seward, Secretary of State, Washington, D. C.
[Untitled]
[From the
London Times, June 11,
1867.]
The Emperors of Russia and Austria are about to be invested with the
Order of the Garter, and missions will be sent to Vienna and St.
Petersburg for that purpose. The same honor is to be conferred upon
the Sultan, who will come here to receive it in person. Whether her
Majesty will grace the ceremony by her own presence we are not in a
position to announce, though we should gladly hear that such was her
intention. While Paris is dazzled by a galaxy of crowned heads, and
the London season is at its height, the “Court Circular” daily
records her kindly occupations and simple amusements at Balmoral.
Philosophers may smile at these formal chronicles of royal
excursions to hilltops and waterfalls, neighbourly visits, and
gracious acts of condescension; yet the “Court Circular” is read by
thousands who read no other column of a newspaper. The domestic life
of the Queen and her family is a living romance to vast numbers of
her female subjects, and the interest which their joys and troubles
continue to inspire in all but the most cynical coteries is a
standing protest against the allegation that loyalty is no longer a
reality. Difficult as it is to analyze the sentiment, and impossible
as it might be to reproduce it in these days were it once
extinguished, it is still an active influence not only in English
society, but even in English politics. The mechanism of
constitutional government would be nearly complete without a
sovereign, and a might probably succeed in making the necessary
adaptations within a very few hours. Yet who is not conscious that
without a personal monarch the spirit of our constitution would be
gone, and that no abstraction could ever fill the void in the heart
of the nation ? The church catechism teaches every child to honor
and obey the Queen and all that are put in authority under her, and
the political creed of the child is not easily unlearnt by the mass
of grown-up persons. They know, if they know anything of the laws
under which they live, that an English sovereign is not
absolute—that he could not, for instance, order any one to be hanged
or beheaded without form of trial. They do not believe, with the
Jamaica negroes, that her Majesty is mistress of their destinies,
and could, if she pleased, make them full owners of the lands which
they now till for hire. Yet they regard her personal will as the
hidden mainspring of government, and attribute to her a power, in
the last resort, far beyond that of the greatest prime minister. Nor
are they wholly mistaken. Parliament can make or unmake prime
ministers, but it cannot make a sovereign. A revolution may place a
new dynasty on the throne, but the early history of our present
dynasty shows that generations were needed in a less democratic age
to develop a popular faith in its legitimacy. Such a faith, once
rooted, gives the sovereign a moral and almost religious ascendency
over the country, which the highest ability and the most signal
public services fail to command. George IV was, perhaps, the worst
of our modern kings, and the Duke of Wellington the most eminent of
his subjects; but the Duke of Wellington’s importance in the state,
though unique, was not equal, on the whole, to that of George IV.
There is a just instinct at the bottom of the ignorant belief that
her Majesty reigns, or at least might reign, over England as Queen
Elizabeth actually reigned over it.
There is, however, one function of royalty upon the due performance
of which both the real and the imaginary influences of the Crown
depend for their permanence. The sovereign must appear frequently in
public, must exercise a splendid hospitality, must be the visible
head of English society. The policy of some oriental despots has
been to seclude themselves from the eyes of their subjects, lest
familiarity should dissipate the impression of superhuman
attributes. The policy of English kings has been exactly the
reverse, and Englishmen have come to regard the social duties of
sovereignty as very real and serious duties. The Stuarts, with all
their faults, understood this part of kingcraft thoroughly; William
III, though much against the grain, did his best to cultivate it;
for want of it the first two Georges utterly failed to redeem the
disadvantage of German extraction and
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manners; by virtue of it George III recovered
the popularity which he had lost by his apparent subservience to his
mother and Lord Bute. He never forgot the lesson. Though he
cordially hated pageantry, he was always to be seen, and charmed by
his entire freedom from royal airs the bitterest opponents of his
political bigotry. The retirement of George IV, little as he was
beloved, was borne with great impatience; the affable and
sailor-like manners of William IV won him golden opinions; and the
accession of a young queen, who made it evident that she loved to
meet her subjects, elicited an outburst of loyalty which most of us
can still remember. It was not dimmed by twenty-four years of
unboroken sunshine, and it has not been quenched by more than five
years that have elapsed since the prince consort’s death. At the
same time, we have never concealed, and have more than once
respectfully expressed, our conviction of the injurious effect which
so protracted an eclipse of her Majesty’s social prerogative must
needs produce. There cannot be a greater mistake than to suppose
that signing papers and transacting with punctuality the
indispensable business of state is the one thing incumbent on ã
sovereign, all else being optional. It would be hardly too much to
say that the reverse is nearer the truth. It has already been found
possible to relieve the Queen of much manual labor in signing
commissions, and there is probably room for still further economy of
her time and trouble in matters of routine. What can only be done
effectually by herself, and cannot properly be delegated to others,
is this very function which some may call merely ornamental. The
reception of foreign princes and foreign ministers, the holding of
drawing-rooms and levees, occasional appearances on public
occasions, and all the nameless courtesies and hospitalities of a
court—these are just the acts which the English natiou expects of
its sovereigns, and which, therefore, it is impolitic for an English
sovereign to neglect. They cannot be neglected without risk of
consequences which all would deplore. English society will have
leaders, and if the sovereign abandons the leadership, others will
inevitably usurp the place, to the injury, perhaps, of that purer
morality which the example of the Queen has done so much to
establish. But we have also obligations to perform, and even debts
to repay, to foreign nations. At this moment the sovereigns of
Russia and Prussia, with other princes of minor rank, are the guests
of the Emperor Napoleon, within ten or twelve hours of Buckingham
palace and Windsor castle. The Czar, in particular, who entertained
the Prince of Wales last winter so magnificently, and who seldom
comes so far west, ought surely to visit our capital. He cannot,
however, visit it in her Majesty’s absence, and our national
character for hospitality is compromised by a contretemps for which the nation is not responsible.
Parliament would doubtless, if it were necessary, be ready to vote
any reasonable sum for his entertainment, as the common council has
already voted money towards the reception of the Sultan and the
Belgian volunteers; but it cannot vote her Majesty back from
Scotland, nor can the want of a hearty welcome be supplied even by
the Order of the Garter.
In reverting to so delicate a subject, we do not forget either the
sacred rights of private sorrow, or the truly royal compassion which
the Queen has so often manifested for the sorrows of others. Her
devotion to the memory of a good husband, and her unfailing sympathy
with all who are desolate or oppressed, come home to millions who
know nothing of royalty in its political or social aspects, and will
ever be associated with her name. Her letters to Mrs. Lincoln and
Mr. Peabody have touched the hearts of the American people; her
appeal to the King of Prussia is believed to have had its share in
averting an European war; and her prompt expressions of womanly
condolence, even more than her generous deeds of charity, have
brought consolation to many a widowed home. Were it possible in
these stirring days for a queen to withdraw from public life without
losing her own constitutional position and weakening that of her
successors, Queen Victoria might well claim that privilege. But this
is not possible, and there is no true loyalty in disguising the
inevitable results of such an experiment if carried on too long. It
would not be safe to allow another generation to grow up rarely, if
ever, seeing the face of their sovereign, and only knowing by report
that she had once been the centre of a brilliant court, and moved
freely among her people. It is not the aristocracy and its
parasites, as is sometimes hinted, that would suffer by a social
abdication. The aristocracy knows how to take care of itself, and
royal invitations are not the passports to “good society.” It is in
the interest of the monarchy itself, and the country at large, that
we venture once more to express the hope that her Majesty will soon
resume the place which not even the heir apparent can hold for
her.
