The Great Events by Famous Historians, Volume 17 / Brummitt, Dan B.

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Title: The Great Events by Famous Historians, Vol. 17

Author: Charles Francis Horne

Release Date: November 19, 2003 [EBook #10128]

Language: English

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VOL. XVII

THE GREAT EVENTS BY FAMOUS HISTORIANS

A comprehensive and readable account of the world's history,
emphasizing the more important events, and presenting these as
complete narratives in the master-words of the most eminent
historians.

Non-sectarian, non-partisan and non-sectional.

On the plan evolved from a consensus of opinions gathered from the
most distinguished scholars of America and Europe, including brief
introductions by specialists to connect and explain the celebrated
narratives, arranged chronologically, with thorough indices,
bibliographies, chronologies, and courses of reading.

Editor-in-Chief: Rossiter Johnson, LL.D.

Associate Editors: Charles F. Horne, Ph.D. and John Rudd, LL.D.

With a staff of specialists




CONTENTS of VOLUME XVII


AN OUTLINE NARRATIVE OF THE GREAT EVENTS, Charles F. Horne

(1844) THE INVENTION OF THE TELEGRAPH, Alonzo B. Cornell

(1846) REPEAL OF THE ENGLISH CORN LAWS, Justin McCarthy

(1846) THE DISCOVERY OF NEPTUNE, Sir Oliver Lodge

(1846) THE ACQUISITION OF CALIFORNIA, Henry B. Dawson

(1847) THE FALL OF ABD-EL-KADER, Edgar Sanderson

(1847) THE MEXICAN WAR, John Bonner

(1847) FAMINE IN IRELAND, Sir Charles Gavan Duffy

(1848) MIGRATIONS OF THE MORMONS, Thomas L. Kane

(1848) THE REFORMS OF PIUS IX; HIS FLIGHT FROM ROME, Francis Bowen

(1848) THE REVOLUTION OF FEBRUARY IN FRANCE, Francois P.G. Guizot and
       Mme. Guizot de Witt

(1848) REVOLUTIONARY MOVEMENTS IN GERMAN, C. Edmund Maurice

(1848) THE REVOLT IN HUNGARY, Arminius Vembery

(1848) THE DISCOVERY OF GOLD IN CALIFORNIA, John S. Hittell

(1849) THE RISE AND FALL OF THE ROMAN REPUBLIC, Jessie White Mario

(1849) LIVINGSTONE'S AFRICAN DISCOVERIES, David Livingstone and Thomas
       Hughes

(1851) THE COUP D'ETAT OF LOUIS NAPOLEON, Alexis de Tocqueville

(1851) THE DISCOVERY OF GOLD IN AUSTRALIA, Edward Jenks

(1854) THE RISE OF THE REPUBLICAN PARTY, Abraham Lincoln

(1854) THE OPENING OF JAPAN, Matthew C. Perry

(1855) THE CAPTURE OF SEBASTOPOL, Sir Edward B. Hamley and Sir Evelyn
       Wood

(1857) THE INDIAN MUTINY, J. Talboys Wheeler

(1859) THE BATTLES OF MAGENTA and SOLFERINO, Pietro Orsi

(1859) DARWIN PUBLISHES HIS ORIGIN OF SPECIES, Charles Robert Darwin

(1860) THE KINGDOM OF ITALY ESTABLISHED, Giuseppe Garibaldi and John
       Webb Probyn

(1861) THE EMANCIPATION OF RUSSIAN SERFS, Andrew D. White and Nikolai
       Turgenieff

(1844-1861) UNIVERSAL CHRONOLOGY, Daniel Edwin Wheeler




ILLUSTRATIONS:


The mutinous Sepoys blown from the mouths of cannon by the English at
Cawnpore, Painting by Basil Verestchagin.

Charge of the Six Hundred at Balaklava, Painting by Stanley Berkeley.




AN OUTLINE NARRATIVE (Tracing briefly the causes, connections, and
consequences of the great events.)


THE TRIUMPH OF DEMOCRACY, Charles F. Horne

In the year 1844 electricity, last and mightiest of the servants of man,
was seized and harnessed and made to do practical work. A telegraph line
was erected between Washington and Baltimore. [Footnote: See _Invention
of the Telegraph_.] In 1846 mathematics achieved perhaps the greatest
triumph of abstract science. It pointed out where in the heavens there
should be a planet, never before known by man. Strong telescopes were
directed to the spot and the planet was discovered. [Footnote: See _The
Discovery of Neptune_.] Man had found guides more subtle and more
accurate than his own five ancient senses. The age of figures, the age
of electricity, began.

The changes were symbolic, perhaps, of the more rapid rate at which the
forces of society were soon to move. Over all Europe and America great
events were shaping themselves with lightning speed. Tremendous changes
political and economic, social and scientific, were hurrying to an
issue.


THE MEXICAN WAR

In America the Mexican War, vast in its territorial results, still more
so in its effect upon society, broke out in 1846 over the admission of
Texas to the United States. The superior fighting strength of the more
northern race was at once made evident. Small bodies of United States
troops repeatedly defeated far larger numbers of the Mexican militia.
The entire northern half of Mexico was soon occupied by the enemy.
Expeditions, half of conquest, half of exploration, seized New Mexico,
California, and all the vast region which now composes the southwestern
quarter of the United States. [Footnote: See _The Acquisition of
California_.]

Farther south, however, the more populous region wherein lay the chief
Mexican cities remained resolute in its defiance; and the Washington
Government despatched against it that truly marvellous expedition under
General Scott. The heroisms and the triumphs of Scott's spectacular
campaign deserve to be sung in epic form. The dubious justice of the war
was forgotten in its overwhelming success. From the captured Mexican
capital the conquerors dictated such peace terms as added to the United
States almost half the territory of her helpless neighbor. Europe at
last awoke to the fact that there was but one Power on the American
continent, a power with which even the mightiest monarch could ill
afford to quarrel. [Footnote: See _The Mexican War_.] The very year in
which the final treaty of peace was signed (1848) the Mormons, a
religious sect, finding themselves unwelcome and out of place in
Illinois, moved westward in a body. Enduring every hardship, every
privation, perishing by hundreds in the trackless deserts, captured and
put to torture by the Indians, they still persevered in their migration,
and, halting at last in the valleys of Utah, began the settlement of the
Central West. [Footnote: See _Migrations of the Mormons_.]

Also in that same year, gold was discovered in California. Thousands of
eager adventurers flocked thither, and thus the vast wilderness that
Mexico had lightly surrendered had hardly become United States territory
ere it was filled with people, not listless semi-savages, but eager,
energetic men, resolute and resourceful. The West joined the march of
progress; it doubled the wealth and prowess of the East. [Footnote: See
_Discovery of Gold in California_.]


THE UPRISING OF THE PEOPLES

Important indeed was that year of 1848, noteworthy above most in the
story of mankind. In Europe it witnessed the greatest of all the
outbursts of democracy. The common people, easily suppressed by the
armies of the Holy Alliance in 1820, had been subdued with difficulty in
1830. Now in 1848 they rose again. Their gradual accumulation of power
and passion would soon be irresistible. Even the petted armies of
autocracy became possessed with the new belief in mankind's brotherhood.

This time the outburst began in Italy. Mazzini, the celebrated founder
of the political society "Young Italy," inspired his countrymen with
something of his own ardent devotion to the cause of liberty and Italian
union. Then in 1846 Pius IX, last of the heads of the Roman Church to
possess a temporal authority as well, ascended the throne of the Papal
dominions. The new Pope was in sympathy with the democratic spirit of
the times, and he established in his own States a constitutional
government, granting to his people more and more of power as he judged
them fitted for it. Soon, however, the most radical elements asserted
themselves in the new Government. All that the Pope could find it in his
heart to grant, seemed to them not half enough. The mighty spirit which
he had let loose broke from his control. Before the close of 1848 there
were riots, fighting in the streets; the Pope's chief counsellor was
murdered, and he himself had to flee by night in secrecy, a fugitive
from Rome. [Footnote: See _The Reforms of Pius IX: His Flight from
Rome_.]

Ere matters had reached this pass, the sudden impulse given by Rome to
democratic government had spread like wildfire over the whole of Europe.
Thrones everywhere seemed crumbling to the dust. In January, 1848, the
people of Sicily revolted against their tyrant king and formed a
republic. Southern Italy, which had been part of the same kingdom,
compelled the sovereign to grant a constitution. Other Italian States
followed the example of rebellion. All Europe apparently had been but
waiting for the spark. In France, dissatisfaction with the
"tradesman-King," Louis Philippe, had long been bitter. In February,
1848, there was an open rebellion, Louis abdicated, and a provisional
government was formed, which proclaimed the land a republic. [Footnote:
See _The Revolution of February in France_.]

There was no fear now lest the other Powers interfere. Each Continental
monarch was over-busy at home. Rebellion was everywhere. Every one of
the lesser German States secured a constitution; and the inhabitants
summoned those of Prussia and Austria to join them in establishing a
single central government, either republic or empire, a "United
Germany." On March 18th the Prussian capital, Berlin, was the seat of a
savage street battle between citizens and the royal troops. Not until it
had raged all day and upward of two hundred persons had been slain did
the Prussian monarch, Frederick William IV, weaken and proclaim a
constitution. [Footnote: See _Revolutionary Movements in Germany_.]

Austria, the stronghold of autocracy, the land of Prince Metternich,
high-priest of repression, had proven as little ready as her neighbors
to withstand the sudden storm. On March 13th the people of Vienna rose
in most unexpected revolt, and Metternich, escaping from the city in a
washerwoman's cart, fled to England. "We were prepared for everything,"
he lamented, "but a democratic pope."

The whole heterogeneous empire of Austria seemed to fall apart at once.
The Hungarians rose in arms to fight for independence. The Bohemians
expelled the Austrian troops from Prague. In Italy the Northern
Provinces followed the example set them in the South. The people of
Milan attacked the Austrian garrison and expelled it after four days of
fighting. Venice reasserted her ancient independence. The King of
Piedmont and Sardinia, declaring himself the champion of Italian unity,
ordered the Austrian armies to leave the country, and marched his forces
against them. The other little States hastened to accept his leadership
and add their troops to his.

Yet against all these difficulties the military power of the Austrian
Government began to make determined headway. The Bohemians were crushed
by force of arms. In Italy the Austrian general-in-chief withdrew slowly
before his many foes, until his Government could reenforce him. Then he
turned on them, completely defeated the Sardinian King at Custozza and
the next year at Novara, and therby restored Austrian supremacy in
Northern Italy.

Meanwhile Rome, from which Pius IX had fled in horror, proclaimed itself
a republic. Mazzini, the earliest hero of Italian unity, and Garibaldi,
its greatest champion, were both members of the Government. The
Austrians marched against them; but French troops had also been
despatched to defend the Pope, and it was the French who, first reaching
Rome, stormed and captured it. The republic was overthrown by a
republic. [Footnote: See _Rise and Fall of the Roman Republic_.] Venice
was the last Italian city to hold out, and surrendered to the Austrians
only after a siege of many months had reduced it to starvation.

The Austrian revolution had also collapsed at home. In October, 1848,
Government troops stormed the city of Vienna as if it had been a foreign
capital, and defeated the students and citizens, who fought the soldiers
from street to street.

Only in Hungary were the royal armies baffled. There a regular
republican government was established under Louis Kossuth. Hungarian
armies were raised, and, defeating the Austrians in pitched battles,
drove them from the land. The Austrian Emperor in despair appealed to
Russia for aid; and the Czar having just trampled out an incipient
Polish rebellion of his own, came willingly to the aid of his brother
autocrat. Just as Austrian troops had so often done in Italy, so now a
huge Russian horde poured over Hungary, beat down all resistance, and
having reduced the land to helplessness returned it to the angry grip of
its insulted sovereign. [Footnote: See _The Revolt of Hungary_.]

Yet Hungary did not wholly fail of her revenge. She had brought about
the downfall of Austria as a great political Power. The once haughty
empire had been compelled to cry for help, to be protected, even as were
Italy and Spain, against her own people. Her weakness was made manifest
to the world. Never again could she pose as the leader of European
councils.

Thus it was only in France and Germany that the results of the upheaval
of 1848-1849 remained evident upon the surface. Prussia and the lesser
German States became and continued constitutional kingdoms. Germany was
united in a closer though still vague union, in which Austria and
Prussia struggled for a dominant influence. But democracy had in many
places committed such excesses that the huge body of the middle classes
feared it and turned against it. Such citizens as had property to
preserve concluded that, after all, their ancient kings had been less
tyrannic than King Mob.

In France, too, this reaction was strongly felt. The revolution of 1848
had not been accomplished without an outburst from socialism or
communism, which raised its red flag in the streets of Paris and was put
down only after days of bloody battle with the more moderate elements.
So the French middle classes wanted peace, and they elected as president
of the republic Louis Napoleon, nephew of their once famous Emperor. In
1851 the President by a sudden _coup d'etat_ overturned his own
Government. He declared the land an empire under himself as Napoleon
III. Enthusiastic patriots protested in burning words, but most of
France appeared content. Property-owners welcomed the return of any
government that was strong enough to govern. [Footnote: See _The Coup
d'Etat_.]

Despite temporary setbacks, however, the advance of the power of the
people in 1848 had been enormous. The dullest tyrant could hardly
believe longer in the permanence of personal despotism. Even England,
the stronghold of conservatism as well as of personal independence, was
shifting her aristocratic institutions slowly toward democracy.

The Reform Bill of 1832 had been only a small step in the direction of
popular government; but it opened the way for further reform. Almost
immediately upon its granting, began what was known as the Chartist
movement, an agitation kept up among the lower classes for a "charter"
or more liberal constitution. This soon became associated with a demand
for freer trade. The importation into England of bread-stuffs,
especially corn, was heavily taxed, and thus the poorer classes were
driven almost to the point of famine. The failure of the potato crop did
at last produce actual and awful famine in Ireland. Her peasants still
speak of 1847 as "the black year" of death. [Footnote: See _Famine in
Ireland_.]

Hundreds of thousands of the poorer classes starved. Then began a stream
of emigration to America. Under pressure of such facts as these, the
English "Corn Laws" were repealed, and gradually Great Britain assumed
more and more positively the attitude of "free trade." [Footnote: See
_Repeal of the English Corn Laws_.]


EXPANSION OF EUROPEAN INFLUENCE

Yet despite all the internal difficulties that thus convulsed Europe in
the middle of the nineteenth century, the period is also notable for the
rapid expansion of European influence over the other continents of the
Eastern Hemisphere. "Earth-hunger," the same passion that had swayed the
United States in its Mexican contest, plunged the Powers of Europe also
into repeated war. France extended her authority over the nearer African
States of the Mediterranean. Indeed, one of the main causes for the
rebellion of 1848 against Louis Philippe was the enormous cost in men
and money of these African campaigns, undertaken against the truly
remarkable Mahometan leader and patriot Abd-el-Kader. [Footnote: See
_The Fall of Abd-el-Kader_.]

England tightened her grip on India, and extended her authority over the
broader lands around it. The hopelessness of Asiatic resistance to
European aggressiveness and military force was once more made evident in
the widespread rebellion of the Indian natives in 1857. In quick
succession, over vast and populous regions, both the people and the
rajas rose against British rule. In the triumph of their first momentary
victories they committed savage excesses which made pardon hopeless. Yet
neither their numbers nor the desperation to which they were driven
enabled them to hold their own against the mere handfuls of resolute
Englishmen, who soon subdued them. [Footnote: See _The Indian Mutiny_.]

England's influence was also extended over Afghanistan and Southern
Africa. Livingstone, most famous of missionaries and explorers, crossed
the "dark continent" from coast to coast in 1851. [Footnote: See
_Livingstone's African Discoveries_.] In that same year gold was
discovered in Australia, and English adventurers flocked thither. The
world grew small to European eyes. [Footnote: See _Discovery of Gold in
Australia_.]

Even the extremest East was brought in contact with the West. As a
result of the Opium War of 1840, China was compelled to open her doors
to foreign trade. She was also compelled to surrender territory to
England. Japan, which for more than two centuries had jealously excluded
Europeans from her shores, received her memorable awakening from the
friendly American expedition of Commodore Perry. [Footnote: See _The
Opening of Japan_.]


THE CRIMEAN WAR

Russia sought to have her share also in the appropriation of territory
and "spheres of influence." She and England were the only two European
Powers which had not been seriously shaken by the upheavals of 1848. It
seemed that they might almost divide between them the helpless Eastern
world. England having already begun operations, Russia assumed a sort of
protectorate over the Christians in Turkish lands, and proposed to
England that the entire Turkish Empire should be divided between the two
despoilers. The British Government refused the plan, mainly because it
would give Russia a broad highway to the sea and make her a dangerous
commercial rival. So Russia attempted to carry out her scheme
single-handed, and began seizing Turkish provinces. She destroyed the
Turkish fleet. Once before in 1828 the threat of a general European
alliance had checked the Russian bear at this same game; but Europe was
weaker now, the Czar stronger, and England far off and undecided.

Thus perhaps the Czar might have had his way but for Napoleon III. This
new Emperor had been permitted by Frenchmen to usurp his power largely
because of the military repute of his great namesake; and he felt that
to hold his place he must justify his reputation. Frenchmen resented
exceedingly the Czar's haughty assumption that only England was able to
oppose Russia; and Napoleon III promptly asserted himself in the _role_
of the former Napoleon as "dictator of Europe." The title so pleased the
insulted pride of his people that they followed him eagerly, and
remained blind to many failings through more wars than one. The
self-constituted dictator insisted that his whole desire was for peace
and the artistic beautifying of his country; yet if Russia persisted in
extending her power and ignoring France--. In 1854 he joined England in
the war of the Crimea against Russia.

It cannot be said that the allies achieved any great success against
their huge antagonist. Their fleets bombarded the Baltic fortresses with
small result. Their armies, hastening to protect Turkey, attacked the
Russians in the Crimea, gained the Battle of the Alma, and then for an
entire year besieged the fortifications of Sebastopol. [Footnote: See
_The Capture of Sebastopol_.] But distance and changeful climate proved
Russia's aids as they had in 1812. The allies' commissary and sanitary
departments could hardly be managed at all; their troops died by
thousands, and, though they finally stormed and captured Sebastopol, it
was a barren victory. Russia, not so much overcome as convinced of the
practical lack of profit in persistency, made terms of peace by which
she once more drew back from her feeble prey. English statesmen were
satisfied with the check administered to their great rival; and the
French were delighted at the successful interference of their "dictator
of Europe." He had rehabilitated the nation in its own eyes.


UNION OF ITALY

Ambition grows by what it feeds on. Napoleon determined to assert
himself again. The bitterness of Italy against its Austrian masters
offered an excellent opportunity, and in 1859 he encouraged the King of
Sardinia to try once more the contest which had proved so disastrous
eleven years before. The King, Victor Emmanuel II, prepared for war
against Austria. The French joined him, so did the little North Italian
States, and their combined forces were victorious at Magenta and
Solferino. [Footnote: See _Battles of Magenta and Solferino_.]

Napoleon had declared that the combat should not cease until the
Austrians were driven entirely out of Italy. As the price of his
alliance he secured Nice and Savoy from Sardinia; and then, immediately
after the bloody Battle of Solferino he suddenly changed front and
declared that the war must cease. Austria yielded Lombardy, but kept
Venice, the last of the possessions for which during more than three
hundred years she had been battling in Italy. The Kingdom of Sardinia
became the Kingdom of Northern Italy.

The next year (1860) Garibaldi, the lion-like fighter, the enthusiastic
lover of Italy, gathering round him a thousand followers, made an
unexpected attack on Sicily, which was held by the tyrant King of
Naples. With his celebrated "Thousand" he won two remarkable victories.
The Sicilians joined him; the Neapolitans were driven from the island.
Not giving them time to recover, Garibaldi followed to the mainland,
defeated them again, and was master of all Southern Italy. Meanwhile
Victor Emmanuel, marching his troops southward, seized what was left of
the States of the Church. The two conquerors met midway in Italy, and
Garibaldi, grasping his sovereign by the hand, saluted him as King at
last of a united Italy. Only Rome and Venice remained outside the pale,
Rome protected by being in actual possession of the Pope, and, since
France was still Catholic, guarded by French troops from the eager
Italians. The year 1860 had been second only to 1848 in its importance
in changing the outlines of modern Europe. [Footnote: See _The Kingdom
of Italy Established_.]

Another change, immeasurably vast and still unmeasured in its
consequences, may be dated from 1859, when Charles Darwin gave to the
world his book, the _Origin of Species_. In this he proclaimed the
doctrine of the evolution of all the more complicated forms of life from
simpler forms. The idea, at first resolutely combated on religious
grounds, has gradually received more or less acceptance into the entire
religious fabric, even as were the discoveries of Galileo. [Footnote:
See _Darwin Publishes His Origin of Species_.]


DISUNION IN AMERICA

Yet each and all of these events, important as they were, grew little in
men's minds as the year 1860 drew to its close and revealed in America
the coming of a mightier quarrel. The slavery question, once supposed to
have been settled by the Missouri Compromise, had proved itself
incapable of such settlement. The forward march of democracy had in fact
made slavery an anachronism, outgrown and impossible. Even the Emperor
of Russia saw that, and in 1861 liberated all the serfs within his
territories. [Footnote: See _Emancipation of Russian Serfs_.] In the
United States alone among the great Powers of the world, did slavery
persist.

In 1854 a new political party, calling itself the Republican, was
formed, having for its main principle opposition to the extension of
slavery into the Territories. [Footnote: See _The Rise of the Republican
Party_.] Other issues might and did complicate the central question, but
it was the slavery issue that inflamed men's minds, made Kansas a
"battle-ground" between settlers from North and South, and sent John
Brown upon his reckless raid. Watching the increasing success of the
Republicans, Southern leaders began to reassert the doctrine of the
right of secession. They said openly that if a Republican president were
elected they would leave the Union.

And in 1860 a Republican president was elected. Was the long-predicted,
and to most of Europe eagerly desired, disruption of the United States
at hand? Was the break to be accomplished peacefully or in flame and
wrath? The fading year of 1860 left the advancing world of democracy in
panic over the danger to what had been its most successful stronghold.


[For the next section of this general survey, see volume XVIII.]




(1844) INVENTION OF THE TELEGRAPH, Alonzo B. Cornell


After the experiments of Franklin that did so much to advance the study
of electrical phenomena, and to suggest practical applications of
electricity, physicists in all countries occupied themselves with
investigations along lines marked out by the American philosopher. In
1749 Franklin devised the lightning-rod. But notwithstanding the labors
of many investigators, it was more than fifty years before any other
practical discovery or invention in electricity was brought into general
use. The first great achievement of the kind was Morse's improvement of
the electric telegraph. That Morse's fellow-countryman, Joseph Henry,
chiefly prepared the way for that triumph, the following account, with
just emphasis, demonstrates.

Among the European scientists and inventors to whom both Henry and Morse
were indebted was the French electrician, Andre Marie Ampere
(1775-1836), whose name (ampere) has been given to the practical unit of
electric-current strength. Ampere was the first and is the most famous
investigator in electrodynamics. He also invented a telegraphic
arrangement in which he used the magnetic needle and coil and the
galvanic battery. Others, in the latter part of the eighteenth century
and the earlier years of the nineteenth, devised similar arrangements.
But no strictly electromagnetic apparatus for telegraphic signalling was
put to successful use until 1836, when, in England, Charles Wheatstone,
who is commonly regarded as the first inventor of practical electric
telegraphy, constructed an apparatus whereby thirty signals were
transmitted through nearly four miles of wire. From 1837 to 1843 he had
as an associate William Fothergill Cooke, and the two worked together to
develop the electric telegraph. They afterward quarrelled over their
respective claims to credit, but in 1838-1841 telegraph lines secured by
their patents were set up on the Great Western and two other English
railways.

Meanwhile other inventors were still working for the same results, in
many parts of the world, and it has been significantly said that "the
electric telegraph had, properly speaking, no inventor; it grew up
little by little." Nevertheless with respect to the distinctive
character of Morse's improvements, and his title to a peculiar place
among those through whose labors the electric telegraph "grew," there
can be no question.

Alonzo B. Cornell, son of the founder of Cornell University, at one time
Governor of New York, was intimately connected with electrical and
telegraphic affairs for many years; therefore on the subject here
presented he speaks with professional authority. His father was the
first builder of the Morse telegraphs.

       *       *       *       *       *

During the early years of the nineteenth century but slight advance was
made in the development of electrical science, although there were many
persons both here and abroad engaged in experimental work, and there was
considerable increase of literature bearing upon the subject. It was
reserved for another illustrious American to accomplish the next
important and decisive step in the pathway of progress. In 1828 Joseph
Henry, then professor of physics at the Albany Academy, afterward a
professor at Princeton, and subsequently for many years secretary of the
Smithsonian Institution at Washington, made the highly important
discovery that by winding a plain iron core with many layers of
insulated wire, through which the electric current was passed, he could
at pleasure charge and discharge the iron core with magnetic power. Thus
Henry produced the electromagnet which was the beginning of the mastery
by man of the subtle fluid. He also discovered that the intensity and
power of the electric current were materially augmented by increasing
the number of the series of battery plates without increasing the
quantity of metal used in their construction.

These discoveries of Henry were, beyond all question, the most important
in real and intrinsic value ever made in the progress of electric
science, as they form the solid basis upon which all subsequent
inventors have been enabled to accomplish successful results in their
various fields of endeavor. It is conceded by all familiar with the
history of electrical progress that the name of Professor Joseph Henry
is to be honored and cherished as one of the very foremost of scientific
discoverers of any age or country, and it must remain a cause of sincere
and permanent regret that of all the fabulous wealth that has resulted
from the advancement of electrical science, this modest and unselfish
inventor should have passed hence without ever having realized any
substantial reward for his great work. Not only so, but he was never
awarded the appropriate acknowledgment to which he was so eminently
entitled for the inestimable benefits his discoveries conferred upon his
countrymen and upon the world at large.

The possibility of utilizing Professor Henry's electromagnet for the
purpose of transmitting intelligence to a distant point was conceived by
still another American, Professor Samuel Finley Breese Morse, of New
York, [Footnote: He was born in Charlestown, Massachusetts, April 27,
1791.--ED.] during his passage on board the packet-ship Sully, from
Havre to New York, in the winter of 1832. Incidental discussions between
himself and Doctor Jackson, a fellow-passenger, in reference to recent
electrical improvements on both sides of the Atlantic, led Morse to the
conclusion that intelligence might be instantaneously transmitted over a
metallic circuit to a distant point, and he thereupon determined to
devote himself to the solution of the problem involved. The following
day he exhibited a rough sketch of a plan for recording electric
impulses necessary to convey and express intelligence. He pursued the
subject with great devotion during the remainder of the voyage, and
after arrival in New York began the construction of the necessary
apparatus to accomplish his purpose.

Morse was by profession a portrait painter of more than ordinary merit,
and was obliged to continue his artistic labors for a livelihood. He was
a graduate of Yale College, where his attention had first been attracted
to electrical experiments. He was thus, in a measure, prepared for
carrying forward the important work he had undertaken, and pursued his
labors with great assiduity. Devoting every spare moment to the pursuit
of his object, which was attained but slowly by reason of his lack of
mechanical skill and ingenuity, not until 1837 had he so far succeeded
in his efforts as to be prepared to make application for letters-patent
to enable him to secure and protect his rights of invention in the
electromagnetic telegraph.

In explanation of the slow progress of his experimental work, Professor
Morse, in writing to a friend, said: "Up to the autumn of 1837 my
telegraphic apparatus existed in so rude a form that I felt reluctance
to have it seen. My means were very limited, so limited as to preclude
the possibility of constructing an apparatus of such mechanical finish
as to warrant my success in venturing upon its public exhibition. I had
no wish to expose to ridicule the representative of so many hours of
laborious thought. Prior to the summer of 1837 I depended upon my pencil
for subsistence. Indeed, so straitened were my circumstances that in
order to save time to carry out my invention and to economize my scanty
means I had for months lodged and eaten in my studio, procuring food in
small quantities from some grocery, and preparing it myself. To conceal
from my friends the stinted manner in which I lived, I was in the habit
of bringing food to my room in the evenings; and this was my mode of
life for many years."

After the continuance of this heroic struggle for more than five years,
Morse found himself compelled to seek the aid of more accomplished
mechanical skill than he possessed, to perfect his apparatus, and was
obliged to surrender a quarter interest in his invention in order to
obtain pecuniary aid for this purpose.

Having thus succeeded in obtaining, at such serious sacrifice, the
requisite financial assistance to enable him to perfect the mechanism
necessary to demonstrate his invention, Professor Morse lost no time in
completing his apparatus and presenting it for public inspection. On
January 6, 1838, he first operated his system successfully, over a wire
three miles long, in the presence of a number of personal friends, at
Morristown, New Jersey. In the following month he made a similar
exhibition before the faculty of the New York University, which was an
occasion of much interest among the scientists of the metropolis.

Shortly thereafter the apparatus was taken to Philadelphia and exhibited
at the Franklin Institute, where he received the highest commendation
from the committee of science and arts, with a strong expression in
favor of government aid for the purpose of demonstrating the practical
usefulness of the system.

From Philadelphia, Morse removed his apparatus to Washington, where he
was permitted to demonstrate its operation before President Van Buren
and his Cabinet. Foreign ministers and members of both Houses of
Congress, as well, also, as prominent citizens, were invited to attend
the exhibition, and manifested much interest in the novelty of the
invention. A bill was introduced in Congress making an appropriation of
thirty thousand dollars for the purpose of providing for the erection of
an experimental line of telegraph between Washington and Baltimore, to
illustrate, by practical use, its general utility. The bill was in good
time favorably reported from the committee on commerce, but made no
further progress in that Congress. Similar bills were subsequently
introduced and diligently supported in each succeeding Congress, but it
was not until the very closing hour of the expiring session of 1843 that
the necessary enactment was effected and the appropriation secured.

The plan of construction devised by Professor Morse for the experimental
line of telegraph to be erected between Washington and Baltimore, under
the Congressional appropriation, provided for placing insulated wires in
a lead pipe underground. This was to be accomplished by the use of a
specially devised plough of peculiar construction, to be drawn by a
powerful team, by which means the pipe containing the electric
conductors was to be automatically deposited in the earth. This
apparatus was entirely successful in operation, and the pipe was thus
buried to the complete satisfaction of all concerned, at a cost very
much lower than the work could have been accomplished in any other
manner. Two wires were to be used to form a complete metallic circuit,
for at that time it was not known, as was shortly afterward discovered,
that the earth could be used to form one-half of the circuit. For
purposes of insulation the wires were neatly covered with cotton-yarn
and then saturated in a bath of hot gum-shellac, but this treatment
proved defective in insulating properties, for when ten miles of line
had been completed the wires were found to be wholly useless for
electric conduction.

No mode had been devised for the treatment of india-rubber to make it
available for purposes of insulation, and gutta-percha was wholly
unknown as an article of use or commerce in this country. Twenty-three
thousand dollars of the Government appropriation had been expended, and
the work thus far accomplished was an acknowledged failure. Only seven
thousand dollars of the available fund remained unexpended, and this was
regarded as inadequate to complete the undertaking under any other plan.
The friends of the enterprise were in despair, and for some time saw no
other alternative than to apply to Congress for an additional
appropriation. This, however, was regarded as almost hopeless, and the
difficulty of the situation was extremely embarrassing.

An amusing incident was related of the means used to keep from public
knowledge the desperate situation. Professor Morse finally visited the
scene of activity where the pipe-laying was proceeding, and, calling the
superintendent aside, confided to him the fact that the work must be
stopped without the newspapers finding out the true reason of its
suspension. The quick-witted superintendent was equal to the occasion,
and, starting the ponderous machine, soon managed to run foul of a
protruding rock and break the plough. The newspapers published
sensational accounts of the accident and announced that it would require
several weeks to repair damages. Thus the real trouble was kept from the
public until new plans could be determined upon.

After long and careful consideration, Professor Morse very reluctantly
decided to erect the wires on poles. This plan was, at first, considered
wholly objectionable, under the apprehension that the structure would be
disturbed by evil-minded persons. It had, however, become manifest that
this was the only mode of construction that could be accomplished within
the remainder of the appropriation, and, finally, upon ascertaining that
pole lines had already been adopted in England, it was determined to
proceed in this manner. The line was thus completed between Washington
and Baltimore about May 1, 1844, and proved to be successful and in
every way satisfactory in its operation.

Shortly after the completion of the line the National Democratic
Convention, which nominated Polk and Dallas for President and
Vice-President, assembled in Baltimore [May, 1844]. Reports of the
convention proceedings were promptly telegraphed to the capital city,
where the telegraph office was thronged with Members of Congress
interested in the news. These reports created an immense sensation in
Washington and speedily removed all doubts as to the practical success
of the new system of communication. A despatch from the Honorable Silas
Wright, then United States Senator from New York, refusing to accept the
nomination for Vice-President, was read in the National Convention and
produced an extraordinary interest from the fact that very few of the
delegates had ever heard of the telegraph, and it required much
explanation to satisfy them of the genuineness of the alleged
communication.

Having thus established beyond all reasonable question the practical
utility of the telegraph as a superior means of public and private
communication, Professor Morse and his associates offered their patents
to the United States Government for the very moderate price of one
hundred thousand dollars, with a view of having the system adopted for
general use in connection with the postal establishment. This
proposition was referred to the Postmaster-General for consideration and
report. After due deliberation that officer reported that "Although the
invention is an agent vastly superior to any other ever devised by the
genius of man, yet the operation between Washington and Baltimore has
not satisfied me that, under any rate of postage that can be adopted,
its revenues can be made to cover its expenditures." Under the influence
of this report Congress very naturally declined the offer of the
patentees, and the telegraph was thereupon relegated to the domain of
private enterprise. The result was that the patentees finally realized
for their interests many times the amount of their offer to the
Government.

During the autumn of 1844 short exhibition lines were erected in Boston
and New York, for the purpose of familiarizing business men of those
cities with the characteristics of the new invention, but they attracted
little attention and the promoters had much cause of discouragement on
account of public indifference. For the purpose of arousing more
attention to the system, appeals were made to the public press for
favorable notice, which were also generally declined. The proprietor of
one of the most prominent and enterprising of the New York daily papers
distinctly refused to encourage the establishment of telegraph lines,
for the reason, as he freely acknowledged, that if the new method of
transmitting intelligence were to come into general use his competitors
could use it as well as himself, and he would therefore be deprived of
his present advantage over them for procuring early news by the use of
an expensive system of special despatch then maintained by his paper.
Two years later he refused to join other papers in receiving the
Governor's message by telegraph from Albany, and was so badly beaten by
his rivals in this instance that his paper was thenceforward one of the
most generous patrons of the telegraph.

Early in the year 1845 a corporate organization was effected for the
extension of the telegraph from Baltimore to Philadelphia and New York,
under the name of the Magnetic Telegraph Company, for which a special
act of incorporation was obtained from the Legislature of the State of
Maryland. Nearly all of the capital of this company was subscribed by
Washington people. Baltimore and Philadelphia furnished only a few
hundred dollars, while New York contributed nothing. Slow progress was
made toward the construction of the line on account of the difficulty of
obtaining the right of way either upon railways or highways, and it was
not until January, 1846, that the line was completed to the west side of
the Hudson River, which formed an impassable barrier to further progress
for a considerable period.

No method of insulation had yet been devised that would permit the
operation of an electric conductor under water, and it was doubted
whether a wire could be maintained for a span sufficient to cross the
river overhead. Finally however high masts were erected on the Palisades
near Fort Lee, and on the heights at Fort Washington on the New York
side, and a steel wire was suspended upon them. This plan was
successful, except that occasionally the wire was broken by an
extraordinary burden of sleet in the winter season. This method of
crossing the lower Hudson was continued for more than ten years, when it
was superseded by submarine cables.

During the year 1846 incorporated companies were formed, under which
telegraph lines were extended from New York to Boston, Buffalo, and
Pittsburg, and within the next three years nearly every important town
in the United States and Canada, from St. Louis and New Orleans to
Montreal and Halifax, was brought into telegraphic communication. Thus,
after fifteen years of struggle with all the pains of poverty, often
lacking even the common necessaries of life, Professor Morse and his
faithful colaborers had the supreme satisfaction, in 1847, of knowing
and realizing that the telegraph system had finally achieved, not only
scientific success, for this had been proven years before, but that
financial success, ample and complete, had come to pay them richly for
all the dark days and wearisome years through which they had passed.

Once generally established, the telegraph won its way to popular
appreciation very rapidly. It was in harmony with the spirit of the age,
and it was not long before every town of any considerable importance
regarded telegraphic facilities as an indispensable necessity. The small
cost soon induced the construction of rival lines, regardless of the
rights of the patentees, and within a very few years unwise competition
began to bring many lines to a condition of bankruptcy. The weaker
concerns soon passed through the sheriff's hands and found purchasers
only at an extreme sacrifice, at the bidding of the more provident and
conservative proprietors of competing lines. Instead of inducing a more
prudent course, these disastrous results only served to feed the spirit
of rivalry, and general insolvency seemed to threaten the permanent
prosperity of the telegraph business, in consequence of the wild and
reckless competition which appeared to be inherent in its nature.

This extremely unsatisfactory condition of telegraph rivalry drifted on
from bad to worse until 1854, when, from dire necessity of
self-preservation, a few of the more prudent and far-sighted proprietors
of telegraph property were induced to combine their interests with some
of their competitors and thus avoid the ruinous policy which had been so
rapidly exhausting their vitality. Accordingly the principal telegraph
lines in Ohio, Indiana, Michigan, and some of the neighboring States
were brought into fraternal relations and formed the nucleus of the
Western Union Telegraph Company.

The new policy soon brought prosperity in place of waste and
improvidence. Profits were devoted to the purchase of additional lines,
thus enlarging their domain and strengthening their position. Prosperity
increased with rapid strides; and the beneficial effects of extirpating
wasteful rivalry and building up a substantial system with superior
facilities and provident management gave the new organization a
dominating influence among the telegraph companies of America. The same
general policy has been pursued to the present time [1894], and has
resulted in the establishment of a prosperous corporation of magnificent
proportions, carrying on a useful and beneficent business under a
greater number of governmental jurisdictions, great and small, than any
other corporate organization in existence.

For the development of the telegraph enterprise in America no thanks are
due to the wealthy capitalists. As a rule they would not listen to
suggestions of investing their money in what was contemptuously termed
rotten poles and rusty wires. They wanted something more substantial and
conservative as the basis of their investments. An early pioneer and
builder of telegraph lines, whose name is now held in grateful memory
for deeds of philanthropic beneficence visited the city of Chicago in
1847 to solicit subscriptions to the capital stock of a company then
engaged in construction of the first line of telegraph between that
place and the city of Buffalo. He presented a carefully prepared
prospectus showing an estimated earning capacity of the projected line
of one hundred dollars per day. The merits of the contemplated
enterprise were freely canvassed at a meeting of bankers, at which one
of the most prominent declared that any man who ever expected to see one
hundred dollars per day paid for telegraphing west of Buffalo must be
crazy and unworthy of belief. This oracular declaration prevailed, and
the project was ignominiously rejected by the wise men of Chicago.
Fortunately, citizens of smaller towns, like Ypsilanti, Kalamazoo, South
Bend, Kenosha, and Racine, took a more sensible view of the proposed
enterprise, and the line was built despite the contempt of Chicago
capitalists. Now, however, the men of Chicago pay more than five
thousand dollars a day for telegraphing at rates far lower than would
have been thought possible in that early day.

The true spirit of enterprise, which has so grandly developed the
resources of our imperial domain, has generally been found to prevail
among people of modest means. Thus, nearly every dollar of capital
contributed toward the establishment of telegraph lines in this country
came from the offerings of people in very moderate circumstances. In
this connection, therefore, it is extremely gratifying to state that
very few enterprises of any kind have returned such generous recompense
for the amount of capital invested as the telegraph and telephone lines
in America. Considering the apparently temporary and short-lived
character of the structures erected for these purposes, it seems
difficult to comprehend the truth of this statement.

The method of telegraphic communication devised by Professor Morse has
been continued in general use in this country, but instead of requiring
separate wire for each circuit as formerly, six independent circuits are
now operated simultaneously over a single wire by the use of the
sextuplex apparatus.




(1846) REPEAL OF THE ENGLISH CORN LAWS, Justin McCarthy


After the repeal of the corn laws the tariff legislation of Great
Britain was guided by a new policy, that of free trade, and it has been
followed ever since. The reactionary tendencies of Continental Europe
after the fall of Napoleon reached also to England, where they
controlled the conduct of political affairs until Canning, in 1822,
became Secretary for Foreign Affairs. His policy was liberal and did
much in forming the public opinion that at length found voice in
Catholic emancipation (1829), in the Reform Bill (1832), and in the
abolition of slavery in the English colonies (1833). Then followed
important amendments of the poor-laws, extension of local governmental
powers in the towns, improvement of popular education, and other
reforms.

Through all this gradual progress in liberal government and public
amelioration, the need of another reform had been pointed out by some
thinkers and statesmen, and at last the condition of the country favored
the views of its advocates. The corn laws protected the English
producers by imposing heavy duties on imported grain. At one time these
duties practically prohibited such importation. McCarthy shows how the
laws operated upon the people, and his story of the memorable agitation
for their repeal and of the accomplishment of that object could not have
been better told.

In 1815 the celebrated Corn Law was passed, which was itself moulded on
the Corn Law of 1670. By the Act of 1815 wheat might be exported upon a
payment of one shilling per quarter customs duty, but the importation of
foreign grain was practically prohibited until the price of wheat in
England had reached eighty shillings a quarter, that is to say, until a
certain price had been secured for the grower of grain at the expense of
all the consumers in this country. It was not permitted to Englishmen to
obtain their supplies from any foreign land, unless on conditions that
suited the English corn-grower's pocket.

We may perhaps make this principle a little more clear, if it be
necessary, by illustrating its working on a small scale and within
narrow limits. In a particular street in London, let us say, a law is
passed declaring that no one must buy a loaf of bread out of that
street, or even round the corner, until the price of bread has risen so
high in the street itself as to secure to its two or three bakers a
certain enormous scale of profit on their loaves. When the price of
bread has been forced up so high as to pass this scale of profit, then
it would be permissible for those who stood in need of bread to go round
the corner and buy their loaves of the baker in the next street; but the
moment that their continuing to do this caused the price of the baker's
bread in their own street to fall below the prescribed limit, they must
instantly take to buying bread within their own bounds and of their own
bakers again. This is a fair illustration of the principle on which the
corn laws were moulded. The Corn Law of 1815 was passed in order to
enable the landowners and farmers to recover from the depression caused
by the long era of foreign war. It was "rushed through" Parliament, if
we may use an American expression; petitions of the most urgent nature
poured in against it from all the commercial and manufacturing classes,
and in vain. Popular disturbances broke out in many places. The poor
everywhere saw the bread of their family threatened, saw the food of
their children almost taken out of their mouths, and they naturally
broke into wild extremes of anger. In London there were serious riots,
and the houses of some of the most prominent supporters of the bill were
attacked. The incendiary went to work in many parts of the country. At
that time it was still the way in England, as it is now in Russia and
other countries, for popular indignation to express itself in the
frequent incendiary fire. At one place near London a riot lasted for two
days and nights; the soldiers had to be called out to put it down, and
five men were hanged for taking part in it.

After the passing of the Corn Law of 1815, and when it had worked for
some time, there were sliding-scale acts introduced, which established a
varying system of duty, so that when the price of home-grown grain rose
above a certain figure, the duty on imported wheat was to sink in
proportion. The principle of all these measures was the same. How, it
may be asked, could any sane legislator adopt such measures? As well
might it be asked, How can any civilized nation still, as some still do,
believe in such a principle? The truth is that the principle is one
which has a strong fascination for most persons, the charm of which it
is difficult for any class in its turn wholly to shake off. The idea is
that if our typical baker be paid more than the market price for a loaf,
he will be able in turn to pay more to the butcher than the fair price
for his beef; the butcher thus benefited will be enabled to deal on more
liberal terms with the tailor; the tailor so favored by legislation will
be able in his turn to order a better kind of beer from the publican and
pay a higher price for it. Thus, by some extraordinary process,
everybody pays too much for everything, and nevertheless all are
enriched in turn. The absurdity of this is easily kept out of sight
where the protective duties affect a number of varying and complicated
interests, manufacturing, commercial, and productive.

In the United States, for example, where the manufacturers are benefited
in one place and the producers are benefited in another, and where the
country always produces food abundant to supply its own wants, men are
not brought so directly face to face with the fallacy of the principle
as they were in England at the time of the Anti-Corn Law League. In
America "protection" affects manufacturers for the most part, and there
is no such popular craving for cheap manufactures as to bring the
protective principle into collision with the daily wants of the people.
But in England, during the reign of the Corn Law, the food which the
people put into their mouths was the article mainly taxed, and made
cruelly costly by the working of protection.

Nevertheless, the country put up with this system down to the close of
the year 1836. At that time there was a stagnation of trade and a
general depression of business. Severe poverty prevailed in many
districts. Inevitably, therefore, the question arose in the minds of
most men, in distressed or depressed places, whether it could be a good
thing for the country in general to have the price of bread kept high by
factitious means when wages had sunk and work become scarce. An
Anti-Corn-Law association was formed in London, It began pretentiously
enough, but it brought about no result. London is not a place where
popular agitation finds a fitting centre. In 1838, however, Bolton, in
Lancashire, suffered from a serious commercial crisis. Three-fifths of
its manufacturing activity became paralyzed at once. Many houses of
business were actually closed and abandoned, and thousands of workmen
were left without the means of life. Lancashire suddenly roused itself
into the resolve to agitate against the corn laws, and Manchester became
the headquarters of the movement which afterward accomplished so much.

The Anti-Corn-Law League was formed, and a Free-Trade Hall was built in
Manchester on the scene of that disturbance which was called the
"massacre of Peterloo." The leaders of the Anti-Corn-Law movement were
Richard Cobden, John Bright, and Charles Villiers. Cobden was not a
Manchester man. He was the son of a Sussex farmer. After the death of
his father he was taken by his uncle and employed in his wholesale
warehouse in the city of London. He afterward became a partner in a
Manchester cotton-factory, and sometimes travelled on the commercial
business of the establishment. He became what would then have been
considered a great traveller, distinct, of course, from the class of
explorers; that is, he made himself thoroughly familiar with most or all
of the countries of Europe, with various parts of the East, and with the
United States and Canada. He had had a fair, homely education, and he
improved it wherever he went by experience, by observation, and by
conversation with all manner of men. He became one of the most effective
and persuasive popular speakers ever known in English agitation. He was
not an orator in the highest sense. He had no imagination and little
poetic feeling, nor did genuine passion ever inflame into fervor of
declamation his quiet, argumentative style. But he had humor; he spoke
simple, clear, strong English; he used no unnecessary words. He always
made his meaning plain and intelligible, and he had an admirable faculty
for illustrating every argument by something drawn from reading or from
observation or from experience. He was, in fact, the very perfection of
a common-sense talker, a man fit to deal with men by fair,
straightforward argument, to expose complicated sophistries, and to make
clear the most perplexed parts of an intricate question. He was exactly
the man for that time, for that question, and for the persuasive and
argumentative part of the great controversy which he had undertaken.

Cobden's chief companion in the struggle was John Bright, whose name has
been completely identified with that of Cobden in the repeal of the Corn
Laws. Bright was an orator of the highest order. He had all the
qualifications that make a master of eloquence. His presence was
commanding; his voice was singularly strong and clear, and had peculiar
tones and shades in it which gave indescribable meaning to passages of
anger, of pity, or of contempt. His manner was quiet, composed, serene.
He indulged in little or no gesticulation, he had a rich gift of genuine
Saxon humor. These two men, one belonging to the middle class of the
North, one sprung from the yeomanry of Southern England, had as a
colleague Charles Villiers, a man of high aristocratic family, of marked
ability, and of indomitable loyalty to any cause he undertook. Villiers
for some years represented the free-trade cause in Parliament, and
Bright and Cobden did its work on the platform. Cobden first, and Bright
after him, became members of the House of Commons, and they were further
assisted there by Milner Gibson, a man of position and family, an
effective debater, who had been at first a Conservative, but who passed
over to the ranks of the Free Traders, and through them to the ranks of
the Liberals or Radicals.

Every year Villiers brought on a motion in the House in favor of free
trade. For a long time this motion was only one of the annual
performances which, by an apparently inevitable necessity, have to
prelude for many years the practical movement of any great parliamentary
question. Villiers might have brought on his annual motion all his life,
without getting much nearer to his object, if Manchester, Birmingham,
Sheffield, Leeds, and other great northern towns had not taken the
matter vigorously in hand; if Cobden and Bright had not stirred up the
energies of the whole country, and brought clearly home to the mind of
every man the plain fact that reason, argument, and arithmetic, as well
as freedom and justice, were distinctly on their side.

The Anti-Corn-Law League showered pamphlets, tracts, letters,
newspapers, all over the country. They sent lecturers into every town,
preaching the same doctrine, and proving by scientific facts the justice
of the cause they advocated. These lecturers were enjoined to avoid as
much as possible any appeals to sentiment or to passion. The cause they
had in hand was one which could best be served by the clear statement of
rigorous facts, by the simple explanation of economical truths which no
sophism could darken, and which no opposing eloquence could charm away.
The Melbourne Ministry fell in 1841. It died of inanition: its force was
spent. Sir Robert Peel came into office. Cobden, who then entered the
House of Commons for the first time, seemed to have good hope that even
Peel, strong Conservative though he was, might prove to be a man from
whom the Free Traders could expect substantial assistance. Sir Robert
Peel had, in fact, in those later years expressed again and again his
conviction as to the general truth of the principles of free trade. "All
agree," he said in 1842, "in the general rule that we should buy in the
cheapest and sell in the dearest market." But he contended that while
such was the general rule, yet various economical and social conditions
made it necessary that there should be some distinct exceptions, and he
regarded the corn laws and sugar duties as such exceptions. It may be
mentioned, perhaps, that the corn laws had, in fact, been treated as a
necessary exception by many of the leading exponents of the principles
of free trade. Thus we have to notice the curious fact that while Sir
Robert Peel's own party looked upon his accession to power as a certain
guarantee against any concession to the Free Traders, the Free Traders
themselves were, for the most part, convinced that their cause had
better hope from him than from a Whig Ministry.

The Free Traders went on debating and dividing in the House, agitating
and lecturing all over the country, for some years without any marked
Parliamentary success following their endeavors. An immense and
overwhelming majority always voted against them in the House of Commons.
They were making progress, and very great progress, but it was not that
kind of advance which had yet come to be decided by a Parliamentary
vote. Probably a keen and experienced eye might have noted clearly
enough the progress they were making. The Whig party were coming more
and more round to the principles of free trade. Day after day some Whig
leader was admitting that the theories of the past would not do for the
present, and, as we have said, the Tory leader had himself gone so far
as to admit the justice of the general principles of free trade. At one
point the main difference between Sir Robert Peel, the leader of the
House of Commons, and Lord John Russell, the leader of the opposition,
seems to have been nothing more than this, that Peel still regarded
grain as a necessary exception to the principle of free trade, and Lord
John Russell was not clear that the time had come when it could be
treated otherwise than as an exception.

An event, however, over which no parties and no leaders had any control,
suddenly intervened to hasten the action and spur the convictions of the
leaders on both sides, and especially of the Prime Minister. This was
the great famine which broke out in Ireland in the autumn of 1845. The
vast majority of the Irish people had long depended for their food on
the potato alone. The summer of 1845 had been a long season of wet and
cold and sunlessness. In the autumn the news went abroad that the whole
potato crop of Ireland was in danger of destruction, if not already
actually destroyed. Before attention had well been awakened to the
crisis, it was officially announced that more than one-third of the
entire potato crop had been swept away by the disease, and that it had
not ceased its ravages, but, on the contrary, was spreading more and
more every day.

The general impression of those who could form an opinion was that the
whole of the crop must perish. The Anti-Corn-Law League cried out for
the opening of the ports and the admission of grain and food from all
places. Sir Robert Peel was decidedly in favor of such a course. The
Duke of Wellington and Lord Stanley opposed the idea, and the
proposition was given up. Only three members of the Cabinet supported
Sir Robert Peel's proposals--Lord Aberdeen, Sir James Graham, Mr. Sidney
Herbert. All the others objected, some because they opposed the
principle of the measure, and were convinced that if the ports were once
opened they would never be closed again, which indeed was probably
Peel's own conviction; and others on the ground that no sufficient proof
had yet been given that such a measure was necessary. Lord John Russell,
almost immediately after, wrote a letter from Edinburgh to his
constituents, the electors of the city of London, in which he declared
that something must immediately be done, that it was "no longer worth
while to contend for a fixed duty," and that an end must be put to the
whole system of protection, as "the blight of commerce, the bane of
agriculture, the source of bitter division among classes, the cause of
penury, fever, and crime among the people." This letter produced a
decisive effect on Peel. He saw that the Whigs were prepared to unite
with the Anti-Corn-Law League in agitating for the total repeal of the
corn laws, and he therefore made up his mind to recommend to the Cabinet
an early meeting of Parliament, with the view to anticipate the
agitation which he saw must succeed in the end, and to bring forward, as
a Government measure, some scheme which should at least prepare the way
for the speedy repeal of the corn laws.

A Cabinet council was held almost immediately after the publication of
Lord John Russell's letter, and Peel recommended the summoning of
Parliament in order to take instant measures to cope with the distress
in Ireland, and also to introduce legislation distinctly intended to
prepare the way for the repeal of the corn laws. Lord Stanley could not
accept the proposition. The Duke of Wellington was himself of opinion
that the corn laws ought to be maintained, but at the same time he
declared that he considered good government for the country more
important than corn laws or any other considerations, and that he was
therefore ready to support Sir Robert Peel's Administration through
thick and thin. Lord Stanley and the Duke of Buccleuch, however,
declared that they could not be parties to any legislation which tended
toward the repeal of the corn-laws. Sir Robert Peel did not feel himself
strong enough to carry out his project in the face of such opposition in
the Cabinet itself, and he tendered his resignation to the Queen. The
Queen sent for Lord John Russell, but Russell's party were not very
strong in the country and they had not a majority in the House of
Commons. Lord John tried, however, to form a ministry without a
Parliamentary majority, and even although Sir Robert Peel would not give
any pledge to support a measure for the immediate and complete repeal of
the corn laws, Lord John Russell was not successful.

Lord Grey, son of the Lord Grey of the Reform Bill, objected to the
foreign policy of Lord Palmerston, and thought a seat in the Cabinet
ought to be offered to Cobden. Lord John Russell had nothing to do but
to announce to the Queen that he found it impossible to form a ministry.
The Queen sent for Sir Robert Peel again and asked him to withdraw his
resignation. Peel complied, and almost immediately resumed the functions
of First Minister of the Crown. The Duke of Buccleuch consented to go on
with him, but Lord Stanley held to his resolution and had no place in
the Ministry. His position as Secretary of State for the Colonies was
taken by William E. Gladstone. Gladstone, however, did not sit in
Parliament during the eventful session when the corn laws were repealed.
He had sat for the borough of Newark, which was under the influence of
the Duke of Newcastle; and as the Duke of Newcastle had withdrawn his
support from the Ministry, Gladstone did not seek re-election for
Newark, and remained without a seat in the House of Commons for some
months.

Parliament met on January 22, 1846. The "speech from the throne,"
delivered by the Queen in person, recommended the legislature to take
into consideration the necessity of still further applying the principle
on which it had formerly acted, when measures were presented "to extend
commerce and to stimulate domestic skill and industry, by the repeal of
prohibitive and the relaxation of protective duties." In the debate on
the "address" Sir Robert Peel rose, after the mover and seconder had
spoken and the question had been put from the Chair, and at once
proceeded to explain the policy which he intended to adopt. His speech
was long and labored, and somewhat wearied the audience by the elaborate
manner in which he explained how his opinions had been brought into
gradual change with regard to free trade and protection. He made it,
however, perfectly clear that he was now a convert to Cobden's opinions,
and that he intended to introduce some measure which should practically
amount to the abolition of protection.

It was in this debate, and immediately after Peel had spoken, that
Benjamin Disraeli made his first great impression on Parliament. He had
been in the House for many years, and had made many attempts, had
sometimes been laughed at, had sometimes been disliked, and occasionally
for a moment admired. But it was when he rose immediately after Sir
Robert Peel, and denounced Peel as one who had betrayed his party and
his principles, that he made the first deep impression on the House of
Commons, and came to be considered as a serious and influential
Parliamentary personage. "I am not one of the converts," Disraeli said,
"I am perhaps a member of a fallen party." A new Protection party was
formed almost immediately under the leadership of George Lord Bentinck,
a man of great energy and tenacity of purpose, who had hitherto spent
his life almost altogether on the turf, who had had almost no previous
preparation for leadership or even for debate, but who certainly, when
he did accept the responsible position offered to him, showed a
considerable capacity for leadership and an unwearying attention to his
duties.

On January 27th Sir Robert Peel explained his financial policy. His
intention was to abandon the sliding scale altogether, to impose for the
present a duty of ten shillings a quarter on corn when the price of it
was under forty-eight shillings a quarter, to reduce that duty by one
shilling for every shilling of rise in price until it reached
fifty-three shillings a quarter, when the duty should fall to four
shillings. This, however, was to be only a temporary arrangement. It was
to last but three years, and at the end of that time protective duties
on grain were to be wholly abandoned. We need not go at any length into
the history of the long debates on Peel's propositions. The discussion
of one amendment, which was in substance a motion to reject the scheme
altogether, lasted for twelve nights. The third reading of the bill
passed the House of Commons on May 15th, by a majority of ninety-eight.

The bill went up at once to the House of Lords, and at the urgent
pressure of the Duke of Wellington was carried through that House
without any serious opposition. The Duke made no secret of his own
opinions. He assured many of his brother peers that he disliked the
measure just as much as anyone could do, but he insisted that they had
all better vote for it nevertheless. Sir Robert Peel had triumphed, but
he found himself deserted by a large and influential section of the
party he once had led. Most of the great landowners and country
gentlemen of the Conservative party abandoned him. Some of them felt the
bitterest resentment toward him. They believed he had betrayed them,
although nothing could be more clear than that for years he had
distinctly been making it known to the House that his principles
inclined him toward free trade, and thereby leaving it to be understood
that, if opportunity or emergency should compel him, he would be glad to
declare himself a Free Trader, even in the matter of grain.

Strange to say, the day when the bill was read in the House of Lords for
the third time saw the fall of Peel's Ministry. The fall was due to the
state of Ireland. The Government had been bringing in a coercion bill
for Ireland. It was introduced while the Corn Bill was yet passing
through the House of Commons. The situation was critical. All the Irish
followers of Daniel O'Connell would be sure to oppose the Coercion Bill.
The Liberal party, at least when out of office, had usually made it
their principle to oppose coercion bills if they were not attended with
some promises of legislative reform. The English Radical members, led by
Cobden and Bright, were certain to oppose coercion. If the
Protectionists should join with these other opponents of the Coercion
Bill the fate of the measure was assured, and with it the fate of the
Government. This was exactly what happened. Eighty Protectionists
followed Lord George Bentinck into the lobby against the bill, in
combination with the Free Traders, the Whigs, and the Irish Catholic and
national members. The division took place on the second reading of the
bill on Thursday, June 25th, and there was a majority of seventy-three
against the Ministry.

The moment after Sir Robert Peel succeeded in passing his great measure
of free trade he himself fell from power. His political epitaph,
perhaps, could not be better written than in the words with which he
closed the speech that just preceded his fall: "It may be that I shall
leave a name sometimes remembered with expressions of good-will in those
places which are the abode of men whose lot it is to labor and to earn
their daily bread by the sweat of their brow--a name remembered with
expressions of good-will when they shall recreate their exhausted
strength with abundant and untaxed food, the sweeter because it is no
longer leavened with a sense of injustice."

With the fall of the principle of the protection in corn may be said to
have practically fallen the principle of protection in that country
altogether. That principle was a little complicated in regard to the
sugar duties and to the navigation laws. The sugar produced in the West
Indian colonies was allowed to enter that country at rates of duty much
lower than those imposed upon the sugar grown in foreign lands. The
abolition of slavery in the colonies had made labor there somewhat
costly and difficult to obtain continuously, and the impression was that
if the duties on foreign sugar were reduced it would tend to enable
those countries which still maintained the slave trade to compete at
great advantage with the sugar grown in the colonies by that free labor
to establish which England had but just paid so large a pecuniary fine.
Therefore the question of free trade became involved with that of free
labor; at least, so it seemed to the eyes of many a man who was not
inclined to support the protective principle in itself. When it was put
to him, whether he was willing to push the free-trade principle so far
as to allow countries growing sugar by slave labor to drive our
free-grown sugar out of the market, he was often inclined to give way
before this mode of putting the question, and to imagine that there
really was a collision between free trade and free labor. Therefore a
certain sentimental plea came in to aid the Protectionists in regard to
the sugar duties.

Many of the old Antislavery party found themselves deceived by this
fallacy, and inclined to join the agitation against the reduction of the
duty on foreign sugar. On the other hand, it was made tolerably clear
that the labor was not so scarce or so dear in the colonies as had been
represented, and that colonial sugar grown by free labor really suffered
from no inconvenience except the fact that it was still manufactured on
the most crude, old-fashioned, and uneconomical methods. Besides, the
time had gone by when the majority of the English people could be
convinced that a lesson on the beauty of freedom was to be conveyed to
foreign sugar-growers and slave-owners by the means of a tax upon the
products of their plantations. Therefore, after a long and somewhat
eager struggle, the principle of free trade was allowed to prevail in
regard to sugar. The duties on sugar were made equal. The growth of the
sugar plantations was admitted on the same terms into that country,
without any reference either to the soil from which it had sprung or to
the conditions under which it was grown.

It had for a long time been stoutly proclaimed that the abolition of
slavery must be the destruction of our West Indian colonies. Years had
elapsed and the West Indian colonies still survived. Now the cry of
alarm was taken up again, and it was prophesied that although they had
got over the abolition of slavery they never could survive the
equalization of the sugar duties. Jamaica certainly had fallen greatly
away from her period of temporary and factitious prosperity. Jamaica was
owned and managed by a class of proprietors who resembled in many ways
some of the planters of the States of America farthest south--of the
States toward the mouth of the Mississippi. They lived in a kind of
careless luxury, mortgaging their estates as deeply as they possibly
could, throwing over to the coming year the superabundant debts of the
last, and only managing to keep their heads above water so long as the
people of England, by favoring them with a highly protective system,
enabled them still to compete against those who grew sugar on better and
more economical plans. The whole island was given over to neglect and
mismanagement. The emancipated negroes took but little trouble to
cultivate the plots of ground they had obtained, and were quite content
if they could scratch enough from the soil to enable them barely to
live. Therefore Jamaica did at a certain time fall far below the level
of her former seeming prosperity.

The other islands had been better managed. Their estates were less
encumbered by debt, and they passed through each successive crisis
without sustaining any noticeable injury. In most of these islands the
product increased steadily after the emancipation of the slaves. The
negroes then began to work earnestly, and education grew not greatly but
distinctly among all classes. Jamaica, the most unfortunate among the
islands, has been constantly the scene of little outbursts of more or
less serious rebellion. As the late Lord Chief Justice of England
observed in a charge on a famous occasion, "The soil of the island might
seem to have been drenched in blood." But these disturbances, or
insurrections, or whatever they may be called, did not increase in
number after the abolition of slavery and after the equalization of the
sugar duties, but, on the contrary, decreased. During our time only one
considerable disturbance has taken place in Jamaica, and in former years
such tumult was of frequent recurrence. In the West Indies we have,
therefore, the most severe test to which the principle of free trade
could well be subjected. It is not too much to say that in the more
fortunate of these islands it has established its claim, and that even
in the least fortunate no evidence whatever has been given that the
people would have been in any way the better off if the old system had
been retained.

The navigation laws had, too, a certain external attraction about them
which induced many men, not actually Protectionists, to believe in their
necessity. The principle of the navigation laws was to impose such
restrictions of tariff and otherwise as to exclude foreign vessels from
taking any considerable part in our carrying trade. The law was first
enacted in Oliver Cromwell's day, at a time when the Dutch were rivals
on the sea, and when it was thought desirable to repress, by protective
legislation, the energy of such experienced seamen and pushing traders.
The navigation law was modified by Mr. Huskisson in 1823, but only so
far as to establish that which we now know so well as the principle of
reciprocity. Any nation which removed restrictions from British merchant
marine was favored with a similar concession. The idea also was that
these navigation laws, keeping foreigners out of England's carrying
trade, enabled her to maintain always a supply of sailors who could at
any time be transferred from the merchant marine to the royal navy, and
thus be made to assist in the defence of the country.

Of course, the ship-owners themselves upheld the navigation laws, on the
plea that, if the trade were thrown open by the withdrawal of
protection, their chances would be gone; that they could not contend
against the foreigners upon equal terms; that their interests must
suffer, and that Great Britain would in the end be a still severer
sufferer, because, from the lack of encouragement given to the native
traders and the sailors, England would one day or another be left at the
mercy of some strong power which, with wiser regulations, would keep up
her protective system and with it her naval strength.

Nevertheless, the ship-owners and the Protectionists and those who
raised the alarm-cry about England's naval defences were unable to
maintain their sophisms in the face of growing education and of the
impulse given by the adoption of free trade. In 1849 the navigation laws
were abolished. We believe there are very few ship-owners who will not
now admit that the prosperity of their trade has grown immensely, in
place of suffering, from the introduction of the free-trade principle in
navigation as well as in com and sugar.




(1846) THE DISCOVERY OF NEPTUNE, Sir Oliver Lodge


Among modern astronomical discoveries none has been regarded as more
important than that of Neptune, the outermost known planet of the solar
system. It was a rich reward to the watchers of the sky when this new
planet swam into their ken. This discovery was hailed by astronomers as
"the most conspicuous triumph of the theory of gravitation." Long after
Copernicus even, the genius of philosophers was slow to grasp the full
conception of a spherical earth and its relations with the heavenly
bodies as presented by him. So it was also with the final acceptance of
Newton's demonstration of the universal law of gravitation (1685),
whereby he showed that "the motions of the solar system were due to the
action of a central force directed to the body at the centre of the
system, and varying inversely with the square of the distance from it."
After making this discovery, Newton himself, with the aid of others,
especially of the French mathematician Picard, labored for years to
verify it, and still further verification was necessary before it could
be fully comprehended and accepted by the scientific world. The
discovery of the asteroids or small planets revolving in orbits between
those of Mars and Jupiter, aided in confirming the Newtonian theory,
which the discovery of Uranus, by Sir William Herschel (1781), had done
much to establish.

From the time of Sir William Herschel the science of stellar astronomy,
revealing the enormous distances of the stars--none of them really
fixed, but all having real or apparent motions--was rapidly developed.
The discovery of stellar planets, at almost incalculable distances,
still further changed the aspect of the heavens as viewed by
astronomers, and when the capital discovery of Neptune was made those
men of science were well prepared for studying its nature and
importance. These matters, as well as the simultaneous calculation of
the place of Neptune by Adams and Leverrier, and its actual discovery by
Galle, are set forth by Sir Oliver Lodge in a manner as charming for
simplicity as it is valuable in its summary of scientific learning.

The explanation by Newton of the observed facts of the motion of the
moon, the way he accounted for precession and nutation and for the
tides; the way in which Laplace explained every detail of the planetary
motions--these achievements may seem to the professional astronomer
equally, if not more, striking and wonderful; but of the facts to be
explained in these cases the general public is necessarily more or less
ignorant, and so no beauty or thoroughness of treatment appeals to it or
excites its imagination. But to predict in the solitude of the study,
with no weapons other than pen, ink, and paper, an unknown and
enormously distant world, to calculate its orbit when as yet it had
never been seen, and to be able to say to a practical astronomer, "Point
your telescope in such a direction at such a time, and you will see a
new planet hitherto unknown to man"--this must always appeal to the
imagination with dramatic intensity, and must awaken some interest in
the dullest.

Prediction is no novelty in science; and in astronomy least of all is it
a novelty. Thousands of years ago Thales, and others whose very names we
have forgotten, could predict eclipses, but not without a certain degree
of inaccuracy. And many other phenomena were capable of prediction by
accumulated experience. A gap between Mars and Jupiter caused a missing
planet to be suspected and looked for, and to be found in a hundred
pieces. The abnormal proper-motion of Sirius suggested to Bessel the
existence of an unseen companion. And these last instances seem to
approach very near the same class of prediction as that of the discovery
of Neptune. Wherein, then, lies the difference? How comes it that some
classes of prediction--such as that if you put your finger in fire it
will be burned--are childishly easy and commonplace, while others excite
in the keenest intellects the highest feelings of admiration? Mainly,
the difference lies, first, in the grounds on which the prediction is
based; second, in the difficulty of the investigation whereby it is
accomplished; third, in the completeness and the accuracy with which it
can be verified. In all these points, the discovery of Neptune stands
out as one among the many verified predictions of science, and the
circumstances surrounding it are of singular interest.

Three distinct observations suffice to determine the orbit of a planet
completely, but it is well to have the three observations as far apart
as possible so as to minimize the effects of minute but necessary errors
of observation. When Uranus was found old records of stellar
observations were ransacked with the object of discovering whether it
had ever been unwittingly seen before. If seen, it had been thought, of
course, to be a star--for it shines like a star of the sixth magnitude,
and can therefore be just seen without a telescope if one knows
precisely where to look for it and if one has good sight--but if it had
been seen and catalogued as a star it would have moved from its place,
and the catalogue would by that entry be wrong. The thing to do,
therefore, was to examine all the catalogues for errors, to see whether
the stars entered there actually existed, or whether any were missing.
If a wrong entry were discovered, it might of course have been due to
some clerical error, though that is hardly probable considering the care
spent in making these records, or it might have been a tailless comet,
or possibly the newly found planet.

The next thing to do was to calculate backward, to see whether by any
possibility the planet could have been in that place at that time.
Examined in this way the tabulated observations of Flamsteed showed that
he had unwittingly observed Uranus five distinct times; the first time
in 1690, nearly a century before Herschel discovered its true nature.
But more remarkable still, Le Monnier, of Paris, had observed it eight
times in one month, cataloguing it each time as a different star. If
only he had reduced and compared his observations, he would have
anticipated Herschel by twelve years. As it was, he missed it. It was
seen once by Bradley also. Altogether it had been seen twenty times.

These old observations of Flamsteed and those of Le Monnier, combined
with those made after Herschel's discovery, were very useful in
determining an exact orbit for the new planet, and its motion was
considered thoroughly known. For a time Uranus seemed to travel
regularly, and as expected, in the orbit which had been calculated for
it; but early in the present century it began to be slightly refractory,
and by 1820 its actual place showed quite a distinct discrepancy from
its position as calculated with the aid of the old observations. It was
thought at first that this discrepancy must be due to inaccuracies in
the older observations, and they were accordingly rejected, and tables
prepared for the planet based on the newer and more accurate
observations only. But by 1830 it became apparent that it did not
coincide with even these. The error amounted to about 20". By 1840 it
was as much as 90", or a minute and a half. This discrepancy is quite
distinct, but still it is very small; and had two objects been in the
heavens at once, the actual Uranus and the theoretical Uranus, no
unaided eye could possibly have distinguished them or detected that they
were other than a single star.

The errors of Uranus, though small, were enormously greater than other
things which had certainly been observed; there was an unmistakable
discrepancy between theory and observation. Some cause was evidently at
work on this distant planet, causing it to disagree with its motion as
calculated according to the law of gravitation. If the law of
gravitation held exactly at so great a distance from the sun, there must
be some perturbing force acting on it besides all the known forces that
had been fully taken into account. Could it be an outer planet? The
question occurred to several, and one or two tried to solve the problem,
but were soon stopped by the tremendous difficulties of calculation.

The ordinary problem of perturbation is difficult enough: Given a
disturbing planet in such and such a position, to find the perturbations
it produces. This was the problem that Laplace worked out in the
_Mecanique Celeste_.

But the inverse problem--given the perturbations, to find the planet
that causes them--such a problem had never yet been attacked, and by
only a few had its possibility been conceived. Friedrich Bessel made
preparations for solving this mystery in 1840, but he was prevented by
fatal illness.

In 1841 the difficulties of the problem presented by these residual
perturbations of Uranus excited the imagination of a young student, an
undergraduate of Cambridge--John Couch Adams by name--and he determined
to make a study of them as soon as he was through his _tripos_. In
January, 1843, he was graduated as senior wrangler, and shortly
afterward he set to work. In less than two years he reached a definite
conclusion; and in October, 1845, he wrote to the astronomer-royal, at
Greenwich, Professor Airy, saying that the perturbations of Uranus could
be explained by assuming the existence of an outer planet, which he
reckoned was now situated in a specified latitude and longitude.

We know now that had the astronomer-royal put sufficient faith in this
result to point his big telescope at the spot indicated and begin
sweeping for a planet, he would have detected it within 1-3/4 of the
place assigned to it by Adams. But anyone in the situation of the
astronomer-royal knows that almost every post brings absurd letters from
ambitious correspondents, some of them having just discovered perpetual
motion, or squared the circle, or proved the earth flat, or discovered
the constitution of the moon or of ether or of electricity; and in this
mass of rubbish it requires great skill and patience to detect such gems
of value as may exist.

Now this letter of Adams's was indeed a jewel of the first water, and no
doubt bore on its face a very different appearance from the chaff of
which I have spoken; but still Adams was unknown: he had been graduated
as senior wrangler, it is true, but somebody must be graduated as senior
wrangler every year, and a first-rate mathematician is not produced
every year. Those behind the scenes--as Professor Airy of course was,
having been a senior wrangler himself--knew perfectly well that the
labeling of a young man on his taking his degree is much more worthless
as a testimony to his genius and ability than the general public is apt
to suppose.

Was it likely that a young and unknown man should have solved so
extremely difficult a problem? It was altogether unlikely. Still, he
should be tested: he should be asked for explanations concerning some of
the perturbations which Professor Airy had noticed, and see whether he
could explain these also by his hypothesis. If he could, there might be
something in his theory. If he failed--well, there was an end of it. The
questions were not difficult. They concerned the error of the radius
vector. Adams could have answered them with perfect ease; but sad to
say, though a brilliant mathematician, he was not a man of business. He
did not answer Professor Airy's letter.

It may seem a pity to many that the Greenwich equatorial was not pointed
at the place, just to see whether any foreign object did happen to be in
that neighborhood; but it is no light matter to derange the work of an
observatory, and alter the plans laid out for the staff, into a sudden
sweep for a new planet on the strength of a mathematical investigation
just received by post. If observatories were conducted on these
unsystematic and spasmodic principles they would not be the calm,
accurate, satisfactory places they are.

Of course, if anyone had known that a new planet was to be found for the
looking, _any_ course would have been justified; but no one could know
this. I do not suppose that Adams himself felt an absolute confidence in
his attempted prediction. So there the matter dropped. Adams's
communication was pigeonholed, and remained in seclusion eight or nine
months.

Meanwhile, and quite independently, something of the same sort was going
on in France. A brilliant young mathematician, Urban Jean Joseph
Leverrier, born in Normandy in 1811, held the post of astronomical
professor at the Ecole Polytechnique, founded by Napoleon. His first
published papers directed attention to his wonderful powers; and the
official head of astronomy in France, the famous Arago, suggested to him
the unexplained perturbations of Uranus as a worthy object for his fresh
and well-armed vigor. At once he set to work in a thorough and
systematic way. He first considered whether the discrepancies could be
due to errors in the tables or errors in the old observations. He
discussed them with minute care, and came to the conclusion that they
were not thus to be explained away. This part of the work he published
in November, 1845.

He then set to work to consider the perturbations produced by Jupiter
and Saturn to see whether they had been accurately allowed for, or
whether some minute improvements could be made sufficient to destroy the
irregularities. He introduced several fresh terms into these
calculations, but none of them of sufficient importance to do more than
partly explain the mysterious perturbations. He next examined the
various hypotheses that had been suggested to account for them. Were
they caused by a failure in the law of gravitation or by the presence of
a resisting medium? Were they due to some large but unseen satellite or
to a collision with some comet?

All these theories he examined and dismissed for various reasons. The
perturbations were due to some continuous cause--for instance, some
unknown planet. Could this planet be inside the orbit of Uranus? No, for
then it would perturb Saturn and Jupiter also, and they were not
perturbed by it. It must, therefore, be some planet outside the orbit of
Uranus, and in all probability, according to Bode's empirical law, at
nearly double the distance from the sun that Uranus is. Finally he
proceeded to determine where this planet was, and what its orbit must be
to produce the observed disturbances.

Not without failures and disheartening complications was this part of
the process completed. This was, after all, the real tug of war. Many
unknown quantities existed: its mass, its distance, its eccentricity,
the obliquity of its orbit, its position--nothing was known, in fact,
about the planet except the microscopic disturbance it caused in Uranus,
several thousand million miles away from it. Without going into further
detail, suffice it to say that in June, 1846, he published his last
paper, and in it announced to the world his theory as to the situation
of the planet.

Professor Airy received a copy of this paper before the end of the
month, and was astonished to find that Leverrier's theoretical place for
the planet was within 1 deg. of the place Adams had assigned to it eight
months before. So striking a coincidence seemed sufficient to justify a
Herschelian sweep for a week or two. But a sweep for so distant a planet
would be no easy matter. When seen through a large telescope it would
still only look like a star, and it would require considerable labor and
watching to sift it out from the other stars surrounding it. We know
that Uranus had been seen twenty times, and thought to be a star, before
its true nature was discovered by Herschel; and Uranus is only about
half as far away as Neptune.

Neither at Paris nor at Greenwich was any optical search undertaken; but
Professor Airy wrote to ask M. Leverrier the same old question that he
had fruitlessly put to Adams: Did the new theory explain the errors of
the radius vector or not? The reply of Leverrier was both prompt and
satisfactory--these errors were explained, as well as all the others.
The existence of the object was then for the first time officially
believed in. The British Association met that year at Southampton, and
Sir John Herschel was one of its sectional presidents. In his inaugural
address, on September 10, 1846, he called attention to the researches of
Leverrier and Adams in these memorable words:

"The past year has given to us the new [minor] planet Astraea; it has
done more--it has given us the probable prospect of another. We see it
as Columbus saw America from the shores of Spain. Its movements have
been felt trembling along the far-reaching line of our analysis with a
certainty hardly inferior to ocular demonstration."

It was nearly time to begin to look for it. So the astronomer-royal
thought on reading Leverrier's paper. But as the national telescope at
Greenwich was otherwise occupied, he wrote to Professor Challis, at
Cambridge, to know whether he would permit a search to be made for it
with the Northumberland equatorial, the large telescope at Cambridge
University, presented to it by one of the Dukes of Northumberland.

Professor Challis said he would conduct the search himself, and shortly
began a leisurely and dignified series of sweeps around the place
designated by theory, cataloguing all the stars he observed, intending
afterward to sort out his observations, compare one with another, and
find out whether any one star had changed its position; because if it
had it must be the planet. Thus, without giving an excessive time to the
business, he accumulated a host of observations.

Professor Challis thus actually saw the planet twice--on August 4 and
August 12, 1846--without knowing it. If he had had a map of the heavens
containing telescopic stars down to the tenth magnitude, and if he had
compared his observations with this map as they were made, the process
would have been easy and the discovery quick. But he had no such map.
Nevertheless one was in existence. It had just been completed in that
country of enlightened method and industry--Germany. Doctor Bremiker had
not indeed completed his great work--a chart of the whole zodiac down to
stars of the tenth magnitude--but portions of it were completed, and the
special region where the new planet was expected to appear happened to
be among the portions finished. But in England this was not known.

Meanwhile Adams wrote to the astronomer-royal several additional
communications, making improvements in his theory, and giving what he
considered nearer and nearer approximations for the place of the planet.
He also now answered quite satisfactorily, but too late, the question
about the radius vector sent to him months before.

Leverrier was likewise engaged in improving this theory and in
considering how best the optical search could be conducted. Actuated
probably by the knowledge that in such matters as cataloguing and
mapping Germany was then, as now, far ahead of all the other nations, he
wrote in September (the same year that Sir John Herschel delivered his
eloquent address at Southampton) to Berlin. Leverrier wrote to Doctor
Galle, head of the observatory at Berlin, saying to him, clearly and
decidedly, that the new planet was now in or close to such and such a
position, and that if he would point his telescope to that part of the
heavens he would see it; and moreover that he would be able to tell it
from a star by its having a sensible magnitude, or disk, instead of
being a mere point.

Galle got the letter on September 23, 1846. That same evening he pointed
his telescope to the place Leverrier told him, and saw the planet. He
recognized it first by its appearance. To his practised eye it did seem
to have a small disk, and not quite the same aspect as an ordinary star.
He then consulted Bremiker's great star-chart, the part just engraved
and finished, and, sure enough, no such star was there. Undoubtedly it
was the planet.

The news flashed over Europe at the maximum speed with which news could
travel at that date (which was not very fast); and by October 1st
Professor Challis and Mr. Adams heard it at Cambridge, and realized that
in so far as there was competition in such a matter England was out of
the race.

It was an unconscious race to all concerned, however. The French
scientists knew nothing of the search in England. Adams's papers had
never been published; and very annoyed the French were when a claim was
set up in his behalf to a share in this magnificent discovery. As for
Adams himself, we are told that by no word did he show resentment at the
loss of the practical consummation of his discovery. His part in any
controversy that arose was calm and dignified; but for a time his
friends fought a public battle for his fame. It so happened that the
public took a keener interest than it usually takes in scientific
predictions; but the discussion has now settled down. All the world
honors the bright genius and mathematical skill of John Couch Adams, and
recognizes that he first solved the problem by calculation. All the
world, too, perceives clearly the no less eminent mathematical talents
of M. Leverrier, but it recognizes in him something more than the mere
mathematician--the man of energy, decision, and character.




(1846) THE ACQUISITION OF CALIFORNIA, Henry B. Dawson


In the history of the United States, the acquisition of California,
carrying with it that of New Mexico, was a peculiar and unusual event,
and one of immense significance in the expansion and development of the
Republic. Together with the annexation of Texas, it was the most
important result of the Mexican War. The California country, formerly an
indeterminate territory of vast extent, was settled by Spanish
missionaries in the seventeenth century. Their settlements within the
present limits of the State of California date from the first foundation
of San Diego in 1769. In 1822 the entire region called California became
a part of the Mexican Republic, and it remained a possession of Mexico
until the time of the transfer described below.

At the beginning of 1846 the population of California included, with
about two hundred thousand Indians, six thousand Mexicans and perhaps
two hundred Americans. War against Mexico had been declared in May,
1845, and already General Taylor had won the battles of Palo Alto and
Resaca de la Palma, and had compelled the surrender of Monterey. While
these operations were leading the United States forces to the rapid
accomplishment of their work in Mexico proper, other movements were
undertaken, the execution and outcome of which form the subject of Mr.
Dawson's narrative. In 1848 California and New Mexico were ceded to the
United States.

Immediately after the opening of hostilities in the valley of the Rio
Grande (March, 1846), among the expeditions which were organized by the
Federal authorities was one to move against and take possession of
California and New Mexico, two provinces in the northern part of the
enemy's country. The command of this expedition had been vested in
General Stephen W. Kearney, and the force under his command had
rendezvoused at Fort Leavenworth; and the most energetic measures had
been adopted to insure its early departure and its ultimate success.

Having completed all the arrangements, on June 26th the main body of
this expedition had moved from the fort; and after a rapid but
interesting march of eight hundred seventy-three miles, on August 18th
it entered and took possession of Santa Fe, the capital of New Mexico,
the Mexican forces, numbering four thousand, which had been collected to
defend the town, having dispersed, without offering the least
opposition, as it approached.

While these operations in New Mexico and on the western frontier of the
United States were taking place, Brevet-Captain John C. Fremont, who had
been engaged in explorations on the western slope of the Rocky
Mountains, had also revolutionized the Province of California, and, to
some extent at least, had anticipated the movements of the expedition
commanded by General Kearney. The character of his mission being
scientific and peaceful rather than warlike, he had not had an officer
or soldier of the regular army in his company; and his whole force had
consisted of sixty-two men employed by himself for security against the
Indians and for procuring subsistence in the wilderness and desert
country through which he had passed. For the purpose of obtaining game
for his men and grass for his horses, in an uninhabited part of
California, he had, during the winter of 1845-1846, solicited and
obtained permission from the Mexican authorities to winter in the Valley
of San Joaquin; but he had scarcely established himself before he
received advices that the Mexican commander was preparing to attack him
under the pretext that under the cover of a scientific mission he was
exciting the American settlers in that vicinity to revolt.

In view of this threatened attack, and for the purpose of repelling it,
Lieutenant Fremont immediately occupied a mountain which overlooked
Monterey--although it was thirty miles from that city--and having
intrenched it and raised the flag of the United States he waited the
approach of the enemy. After remaining there until March 10, 1846, he
retired to the northward, intending to march, by way of Oregon, to the
United States; but about the middle of May, after he had quietly passed
into Oregon, he had received information through Samuel Neal and Levi
Sigler, two hunters who had been sent after him from Lassen's _rancho_,
that the Mexican Governor of California was pursuing him, while the
Indians, by whom he was surrounded, instigated by the enemy, had shown
signs of hostility, and had killed or wounded five of his men.

Under these circumstances, on June 6, 1846, Lieutenant Fremont had
resolved to turn on his pursuers with the little party under his
command, and to seek safety, not merely in the overthrow of his
pursuers, but in that of the entire Government of Mexico in the Province
of California. Accordingly, on June 11th, Lieutenant Fremont, assisted
by Captain Merritt and fourteen of the settlers, had attacked and
captured an escort of horses destined for General Castro's
troops--Lieutenant Arce, fourteen men, and two hundred horses remaining
in his hands as the trophies of his victory. On the 15th the military
post of Sonoma was surprised, and General Vallejo, Captain Vallejo,
Colonel Greuxdon and several other officers, nine pieces of brass
cannon, two hundred fifty stands of muskets, and other stores and arms
were taken; and on the 25th the military commandant of the Province, who
had moved toward the post with a heavy force to retake it, was attacked
by Lieutenant Fremont and twenty men, and completely routed. Having thus
cleared that part of the Province north of the Bay of San Francisco of
the enemy, it is said that on July 5th Captain Fremont had assembled the
American settlers at Sonoma, addressed them upon the dangers of their
situation, and recommended a declaration of independence and war on
Mexico as the only remedy; and that the hardy frontiersmen promptly
accepted the proposal and raised the flag of independent California--a
bear and a star on a red ground.

While these revolutionary movements were destroying the power of Mexico
in the interior of the Province of California, and the expedition under
General Kearney--ignorant of the fact that the work had been done
already--was approaching its eastern borders for the same purpose, the
naval force of the United States in the Pacific, under Commodore Sloat,
had been assisting in the work of conquest. Having heard of the opening
of hostilities on the Rio Grande, the Commodore--then at
Mazatlan--hastened with the Savannah to Monterey in California, where he
arrived on July 2d, and on the 7th he took possession of the town
without opposition; the custom-house was seized, the American flag
raised, and California declared to be "henceforward a part of the United
States."

Within a few days intelligence of the action of Commodore Sloat was
received by the revolutionary leaders at Sonoma; and a battalion of
mounted riflemen which had been organized among them was immediately
moved to Monterey, the flag of the United States was substituted for the
"bear and star," and the authority of the Commodore was immediately
recognized. This battalion of mounted riflemen on its arrival at
Monterey, July 23, 1846, was mustered into the service of the United
States by Commodore Stockton, who had succeeded Commodore Sloat in
command of the squadron--Captain Fremont being appointed its commandant,
and Lieutenant A. H. Gillespie, of the Marines, its second officer--and
it was immediately despatched on the sloop-of-war Cyane to San Diego for
the purpose of cutting off the retreat of General Castro, of the Mexican
service, who had encamped and fortified his position near Ciudad de los
Angeles, while the Commodore with his sailors--who landed from the
Congress at San Pedro--moved against him in front. The expedition was
eminently successful, as the Mexicans on the approach of the Commodore
immediately evacuated their camp and fled in the greatest
confusion--although most of the principal officers were subsequently
captured--and, on August 13th, the Ciudad de los Angeles was occupied,
again without opposition, by the American troops and seamen, and the
conquest of California was apparently completed.

A short time afterward Commodore Stockton appointed Captain Fremont
Governor of the Territory into which, by the proclamation of Commodore
Sloat, the Province had been transformed; while Captain Gillespie was
left, with nineteen men, in possession of Los Angeles; Lieutenant
Talbot, of the Topographical Engineers, with nine men, was left at Santa
Barbara; and, with his squadron, Commodore Stockton proceeded to San
Francisco; while Governor Fremont, on September 8th, also moved to
Monterey.

The main body had no sooner left Los Angeles than the Californians--who
before the departure of the Commodore and the Governor had held secret
meetings for the purpose--rose in arms for the expulsion of the invaders
of their country. Indeed an attempt appears to have been intended before
the Governor left the city; but, by timely precautions, it had been
prevented; although the purpose and determination still continued and
were called into requisition at a more convenient season. The necessary
preparations having been made for that purpose under the directions of
Jose Antonio Carrillo, a professed conspirator of that vicinity, at an
early hour on the morning of September 23d, the quarters of Captain
Gillespie were attacked by Cerbulo Varela--a metamorphosed captain under
Governor Fremont--at the head of sixty-five men, under cover of a thick
fog. The morning was auspicious for such purposes, yet the Captain was
not surprised; and the twenty-one rifles which he controlled were
quickly brought to bear on the assailants, who retired soon afterward
with three of their number killed and several wounded; and at daylight
the remainder were driven from the town, with the loss of several taken
prisoners, by a few men under Lieutenant Hensley, and Doctor Gilchrist,
of the navy.

The insurgents who were thus expelled from the city formed a nucleus
around which the disaffected gathered; and as the party gained strength
day by day, it harassed the little garrison and killed one of its
number. There was but little concert of action in its ranks, however;
and as the rival aspirants to power struggled for authority, while the
numbers rapidly increased, the efficiency of the insurgents was but
slightly increased. At length, in a spirit of compromise, Captain
Antonio Flores was urged to take the command of the party, and
reluctantly accepted it; and he soon found himself at the head of six
hundred men armed with lances, _escopetas_, and a brass six-pounder,
light and well mounted.

In the mean time the little garrison had found an old honeycombed iron
six-pounder, and had drilled out the spike, cleaned and mounted it, and
by melting the lead pipes of a distillery had provided--unknown to the
insurgents--thirty rounds of ball and grape for it. Two other pieces
having been added to this, on the following day, the little garrison and
its gallant commander resolved to die rather than surrender,
notwithstanding the extreme efforts which had been made to strengthen
its position, and the great fatigue which was incident thereto. To
render his little party still more secure, however, on September 27th
Captain Gillespie withdrew his command from his quarters in the city and
occupied a height which commanded it, when he strengthened his position
and prepared for an obstinate defence.

No sooner had this movement been effected than Captain Flores sent Don
Eulogeo Celis to inquire "on what terms Captain Gillespie would
surrender the city"; and that officer, after consulting with his
subordinates, answered that if the enemy would consent that he should
march out of the city with the honors of war, colors flying and drums
beating; that he should take everything with him; that he should be
furnished with means for transporting his baggage and provisions, at his
own expense; and that the enemy should not come within a league of his
party while on its line of march to San Pedro, he would accept those
terms, and no others would be considered; and Captain Flores should be
held responsible for any damage which might ensue, in case they were
rejected. After some negotiations these terms were offered by Captain
Flores and accepted by Captain Gillespie; and, on September 29th, the
garrison began its march; reached San Pedro on the same evening, and on
October 4th embarked on the Vandalia, after spiking its three old
guns--an exploit which, when the circumstances under which Captain
Gillespie's force, the strength of his opponent, and the temper of the
people among whom he moved are taken into consideration, may well be
ranked as one of the most brilliant feats of that remarkable campaign.

While these difficulties were surrounding Captain Gillespie at Los
Angeles, Lieutenant Talbot, at Santa Barbara with his nine men, was not
less dangerously situated; and when the former had made terms with the
insurgents, Manuel Garpio with two hundred men moved against Lieutenant
Talbot, surrounded the town, and demanded his surrender, offering two
hours for his deliberation. As the men had resolved that they would not
give up their arms, and as the barracks were untenable with so small a
force, the Lieutenant resolved to abandon the town and push for the
hills; and, strange to say, he marshalled his men and marched out of the
town without opposition--"those who lay on the road retreated to the
main force, which was on the lower side of the town."

Having reached the hills, he encamped, and remained there eight days,
when the Californians endeavored to rout him out, but were repulsed with
the loss of a horse. The insurgents then offered him his arms and
freedom if he would engage to remain neutral in the anticipated
hostilities, but "he sent word back that he preferred to fight." They
next built fires about him and burned him out; but in doing so they did
not capture or injure him, and he pushed through the mountains for
Monterey; and after a month's travel, in which he endured unheard-of
hardships and suffering, he reached that place in safety.

Intelligence of the insurrection having reached Commodore Stockton at
San Francisco and Lieutenant-Colonel Fremont at Sacramento, both took
immediate steps to check its progress and to punish the offenders. In
conformity with the Commodore's orders Lieutenant-Colonel Fremont
hastened to San Francisco, whence he embarked, with one hundred sixty
men, on the ship Sterling, for Santa Barbara, to which port the frigate
Savannah (Captain Mervine) had previously been ordered; while, on the
same day, the Commodore in person sailed for the same port in the
Congress.

The latter vessel reached San Pedro on October 6th, and at sunrise on
the 7th Captain Mervine landed with his seamen and marines; and after
being joined by Captain Gillespie and his brave-hearted little party, he
found himself at the head of three hundred ten men, "as brave and as
valiant as ever were led to battle upon any field." At eight o'clock the
party commenced its march toward Los Angeles, Captain Gillespie being in
advance, and when the column reached the hills of Palo Verde the
insurgents showed themselves and opened a fire with their _escopetas_.
The march was rapid; and the jolly tars, unused to such extended
journeys, appear to have suffered from its effects; in consequence of
which, although the enemy gradually fell back before the advancing
column, between one and two o'clock, when near the Rancho de los
Domingos, fourteen miles from San Pedro, it became necessary to halt and
encamp for the night.

As may have been expected, the sailors and marines were ashore, and the
strict discipline which "the deck" had inculcated appears to have been
left on board the frigate. As a necessary consequence the camp displayed
but little of the order which such a locality should have insured; and
many and marvellous were the adventures of that night; while, on the
other hand, the enemy profited by the delay, by the moral effect of the
disorder with which the march had been conducted, and by the entire
absence of any artillery.

On the following morning at daylight the column was again put in motion;
and with Captain Gillespie's men in front, in still greater disorder
than on the preceding day, it moved toward Los Angeles, twelve miles
distant. It had marched only three miles, when, posted behind a small
stream which intersected the line of march, the advance of the
insurgents--seventy-six men, with a small fieldpiece, under Jose Antonio
Carrillo--was discovered in front; and, as the column approached, a fire
was opened on it, which was answered with a characteristic shout. The
volunteers--Captain Gillespie's command--pressed forward; and by taking
advantage of the neighboring shelter they drove the enemy and compelled
him to abandon his fieldpiece; but before it could be reached and taken
possession of, Captain Mervine gave orders to withdraw. With great
indignation, therefore, the volunteers discontinued the action, and
after picking up his killed and wounded--harassed by the enemy who
pressed after the column, and covered by the volunteers and sixteen
marines, under Captain Gillespie--Captain Mervine slowly and sadly fell
back to San Pedro, where he arrived about dark on the same day,
"Thirteen noble tars were buried on the island in front of San Pedro,"
the victims of this badly managed expedition.

On October 23d the Commodore reached San Pedro--Lieutenant-Colonel
Fremont meanwhile having returned to Monterey--and on the 31st he sailed
for San Diego, which had been invested by the insurgents and needed
assistance. He reached that port a few days afterward; and, with the
assistance of Captain Gillespie's command, the besiegers were repelled,
and a fort was erected to protect the town from similar troubles in
future.

Strenuous efforts were made to obtain horses for the use of the troops,
with some degree of success; and Commodore Stockton sailed toward San
Pedro again. During this temporary absence of the Commodore the
insurgents appear (on November 18, 1846) to have moved against San Diego
a second time, and were again driven back by Captain Gillespie and the
volunteers and marines under his command; and on December 3d a messenger
came into the town bearing a letter from General Kearney, apprising the
Commodore of his approach, and expressing a wish that a communication
might be opened with him that he might be informed of the state of
affairs in California.

It appeared that after the General had taken Santa Fe (on October 1st)
he had moved from that city with the regular cavalry which he had
brought there. Soon afterward (October 7th) he had reduced his force to
one hundred men--sending the remainder back to Santa Fe--and after an
interesting march overland, on December 3, 1846, he had reached Warner's
_rancheria_, the outpost of civilization in California. From there a
letter had been despatched to San Diego by Mr. Stokes, an Englishman who
lived in a neighboring _rancheria_; and on the 4th the command had moved
fifteen miles nearer to the city.

On the receipt of General Kearney's letter, Commodore Stockton
despatched Captain Gillespie to meet him, with a letter of welcome. The
Captain was accompanied by Lieutenant Beale, Midshipman Duncan, ten
seamen, Captain Gibson's company of riflemen (twenty-five men), and a
fieldpiece; and on the 5th he reached the General's camp; when, having
learned on his way that the insurgents were encamped at San Pasqual,
nine miles from the camp, Lieutenant Hammond was sent out by General
Kearney to reconnoitre the enemy's position.

At a very early hour on the 6th the troops were put in motion, Captain
Johnston, with twelve dragoons, forming the advance-guard; the main body
of the General's party, under Captain Moore, following next; after which
moved Captain Gillespie, with Captain Gibson and his small company; and
Lieutenant Davidson, with the General's howitzers brought up the rear.
When the column had reached a hill which overlooked the valley of the
San Pasqual, the insurgents' encampment, it was halted, and the General
gave the final orders to his command: "One thrust of the sabre is worth
a dozen cuts; and depend upon them more than upon the carbines and
rifles." Without further delay the column advanced down the hill; and as
soon as Captain Johnston had struck the plain with his twelve dragoons,
having mistaken the purport of an order from the General, he uttered a
yell, and, without waiting for the support of the main body, dashed on
the heavy ranks of the enemy, falling a victim of his own indiscretion.

The main body hastened, by a flank movement down the hill, to support
the charge of the advance, and received the enemy's fire from an Indian
village on its right flank; but the enemy waited to do no further
mischief, and fled from the charge of the advance before the line could
be formed. Perceiving the defection of the enemy, Captain Moore, with a
portion of his command, pursued the fugitives down the right of the
valley, while Captain Gillespie, with his volunteers, did the same on
the left side--the latter taking prisoner Pablo Beja, the insurgents'
second officer. In this pursuit, however, the ranks of the Americans
were greatly broken; and as the Mexicans far outnumbered them, they soon
afterward made a stand, using their lances with good effect. Captain
Moore fell, pierced in the breast by nine lances; the General was
severely wounded, and his life was saved, from an attack on his rear, by
a ball from Lieutenant Emory. Captain Gillespie was attacked by seven
Californians, received three wounds, and saved himself with great
difficulty; Captain Gibson received two wounds; Lieutenant Hammond
received nine lance wounds in the breast, and many others were severely
injured. For five minutes the enemy held the ground; when, the main body
of the Americans having come up, he again turned and fled.

In this spirited affair about eighty Americans were engaged; while of
the Californians there is said to have been one hundred sixty, under
Andreas Pico. Of the former, Captains Moore and Johnston, Lieutenant
Hammond, and sixteen men were killed; and General Kearney, Captains
Gillespie and Gibson, Lieutenant Warner, and eleven men were wounded;
while of the latter it is said twenty-eight were killed and wounded.

The dead were buried as soon as night closed in; the wounded were
properly attended to by the single surgeon who was with the party; and
ambulances were prepared for their conveyance to San Diego, thirty-nine
miles distant; and on the morning of the 7th the order to march was
given--the column taking the right-hand road over the hills, and leaving
the River San Bernardo to the left--the enemy retiring as it advanced. A
proper regard for the comfort of the wounded compelled the column to
move slowly, and it was afternoon before it reached the San Bernardo
_rancheria_ (Mr. Snook's). After a short halt at that place the column
moved down into the valley; and immediately afterward the hills on the
rear of the column (around the _rancheria_) were covered with
Californian horsemen, a portion of whom dashed at full speed past the
Americans to occupy a hill which commanded the route of the latter,
while the remainder of the party threatened the rear of the column.
Thirty or forty of the enemy quickly occupied the hill referred to; and
as the column came up six or eight Americans filed off to the left, and,
under Lieutenant Emory, charged up the hill, when the Californians
delivered their fire and fled, five of their number having been killed
or wounded by the rifles of the assailants.

The wounded having been removed with great difficulty, the cattle having
been lost, and the danger of losing the sick and the packs being great,
the General determined to halt at that place and await the arrival of
reinforcements, for which messengers had been sent to San Diego on the
morning of the 6th. Accordingly the Americans occupied the high ground
on which the action had been fought, bored holes for water, killed their
fattest mules for meat, and awaited the arrival of their friends, until
the morning of the 11th, when they were joined by one hundred seamen and
eighty marines, under Lieutenant Gray, who had been sent out to meet
them by Commodore Stockton; and, on the afternoon of the 12th, the
combined parties entered the town in safety.

At this time commenced that memorable conflict between the two
commanders--General Kearney and Commodore Stockton--respecting the chief
command, which subsequently created so much trouble in the American
ranks and throughout the country. Commodore Stockton appears, however,
to have retained the authority; and, having organized a force
sufficiently strong to warrant the undertaking, and General Kearney
having accepted an invitation to accompany the expedition, on December
29th he marched from San Diego, with two officers and fifty-five
privates (dragoons, two officers and forty-five seamen acting as
artillerymen; eighteen officers and three hundred seventy-nine seamen
and marines acting as infantry; six officers, and fifty-four privates),
volunteers, and six pieces of artillery, against the main body of the
insurgents, near Los Angeles. The command appears to have been given, at
his own request, to General Kearney; and as the wagon train was heavily
laden, the progress of the column was very slow--the expedition reaching
the Rio San Gabriel on January 8, 1847--although the enemy had offered
no opposition to its progress even in passes where a small force could
have effectively kept it back. At this place, however, he had made a
stand to dispute the passage of the river; and here the second action
was fought between the Americans and the Californians.

The Rio San Gabriel, at the spot where this action was fought, is about
one hundred yards wide, the current about knee-deep, flowing over a
quicksand bottom. The left bank, by which the Americans approached, is
level; that on the right is also level for a short distance back, but
beyond this narrow plain a bank fifty feet in height commands the ford
and the intervening flat, while both banks are fringed with a thick
undergrowth. On this bank, directly in front of the ford, four pieces of
artillery were posted, supported on either flank by strong bodies of
cavalry, while on the slope of the hill and the flat in front were
posted the sharpshooters.

Against this position the American column moved; the second division in
front, with the first and third divisions on the right and left flanks;
the cattle and the wagon train moved next; the volunteer riflemen and
the fourth division brought up the rear. As the head of the column
approached the bank of the river the enemy's sharpshooters opened a
scattering fire; and the second division was ordered to deploy as
skirmishers, cross the river, and drive the former from the thicket;
while the first and third divisions covered the flanks of the train,
and, with it, followed in the rear. When this line of skirmishers had
reached the middle of the stream and was pressing forward toward the
opposite bank, the enemy brought his artillery to bear, "and made the
water fly with grape and round shot"; and the American fieldpieces were
immediately dragged across the river and placed in counter-battery on
the right bank in opposition to those of the enemy. The fire of the
Americans appears to have caused considerable confusion in the ranks of
the insurgents; and under its cover the wagon train and cattle, with
their guard, passed the river, during which time the enemy attacked its
rear and was repelled.

Having safely crossed the river the American column appears to have
deployed under cover of the high ground--the Californian grape and round
shot rattling over the heads of the men--and the enemy immediately
charged on both its flanks simultaneously, dashing down the slope with
great spirit. With great coolness the second division was thrown into
squares, and after a round or two drove off the enemy from the left
flank; the first division received a similar order, but as the
assailants on the right hesitated and did not come down as far as their
associates on the opposite flank, the order was countermanded, and the
division was ordered to charge up the hill, where the enemy's main body
was supposed to be posted. With great coolness this movement was
executed and the heights were gained, but there was no enemy in sight.
He had abandoned his position, and although he pitched his camp on the
hills in view of the Americans, when morning came he had moved still
farther back.

The strength of the Americans in this action (the action of the Rio San
Gabriel) had been shown already; that of the Californians was about six
hundred, with four pieces of artillery. The loss of the former was one
man killed and nine men wounded; that of the enemy is not known.

On the following morning (January 9, 1847) the American column resumed
its march over the Mesa--a wide plain which extends from the Rio San
Gabriel to the Rio San Fernando--surrounded by reconnoitring parties
from the enemy; and when about four miles from Los Angeles the enemy was
discovered on the right of the line of march, awaiting its approach.
When the column had come abreast of the enemy the latter opened fire
from his artillery on its right flank, and soon afterward deployed his
force, making a horseshoe in front of the American column, and opening
with two pieces of artillery on its front while two nine-pounders
continued their fire on the right.

After stopping about fifteen minutes to silence the enemy's
nine-pounders the column again moved forward; when, by a movement
similar to that employed on the Rio San Gabriel the day before, two
charges were made simultaneously on its left flank and on its right and
rear. Contrary to the positive instructions of the officers, in the
former of these charges the enemy was met with a fire at long distance;
yet, although he had not come within a hundred yards of the column,
several of his men were knocked out of their saddles, and a round of
grape, which was immediately sent after him, completely scattered his
right wing. The charge on the right and the rear of the column fared
little better; and the entire force of the insurgents was withdrawn.

The strength of both parties was probably as on the preceding day at the
Rio San Gabriel; the loss of the Californians is not known; that of the
Americans was Captain Gillespie, Lieutenant Rowan, and three men
wounded. The troops encamped near the field of battle; and on the
following morning (January 10, 1847), the enemy surrendered, when the
city of Los Angeles was occupied by the Americans without further
opposition.

"This was the last exertion made by the sons of California for the
liberty and independence of their country," say the Mexican historians,
"and its defence will always do them honor; since, without supplies,
without means or instructions, they rushed into an unequal contest, in
which they more than once taught the invaders what a people can do who
fight in defence of their rights. The city of Los Angeles was occupied
by the American forces on January 10th, and the loss of that rich, vast,
and precious part of the Mexican territory was consummated."




(1847) THE FALL OF ABD-EL-KADER, Edgar Sanderson


This great Mahometan was an Arab chief whose heroic conduct as leader of
the Arabs in their wars against the French in Algeria (1832-1847) gave
him a place among the eminent patriot-soldiers and statesmen of the
nineteenth century. In 1843 Marshal Soult declared that Abd-el-Kader was
one of the three great men then living; the two others also being
Mahometans. The final course and fall of this man, whose name means
"Servant of the Mighty God," is itself an important concern of history,
without regard to its effect upon the relations of empire. After the
French, provoked by the conduct of Hasan, Dey of Algeria, had occupied
Algiers, his capital, in 1830, a new government was set up in France,
Louis Philippe ascending the throne in place of the expelled Charles X.
At the time of this revolution in France the soldiers of Charles had
already overrun a great part of Algeria; but they had not subdued the
country, and their absolute dominion extended only a little beyond the
capital itself. The French commander fortified his territory, but had to
recruit his garrisons from among the natives. In 1833 Abd-el-Kader
raised the standard of the Prophet, the Arabs rallied to his call, and
for several years he carried on a stubborn war against the French, whom
in 1835 he signally defeated.

In 1836 the Arab leader, now Sultan, again fought the invaders in
several severe engagements on the Tafna River. In these affairs the
advantage lay with the Arab. In June, 1836, General Bugeaud was sent to
command the French forces, and he proved to be the strongest opponent
that Abd-el-Kader had met. There was more fighting on the Tafna; it was
indecisive, and in May, 1837, a treaty, known as the Treaty of the
Tafna, was concluded, General Bugeaud having received instructions
either to make peace with Abd-el-Kader or to subdue him.

The story of the Arab hero from this point in his career is told by
Sanderson, the faithful commemorator of great nineteenth-century
patriots, a high authority on modern Africa.

The famous Treaty of the Tafna, concluded between Abd-el-Kader and
Bugeaud, was a triumph for the Arab Sultan. With the consent of all the
great sheiks, the leaders of cavalry contingents, the venerable
Marabouts, and the most distinguished warriors of the Province of Oran,
the Sultan, not acknowledging the sovereignty of France, but ceding to
her a limited portion of the Provinces of Oran and Algiers, reserved the
free exercise of their religion for all Arabs dwelling on French
territory. He undertook to supply the French army with a large quantity
of corn and oxen and to confine the commerce of the Regency to French
ports. In return he received the administration of the larger part of
the Provinces of Oran and Algiers, and the whole of Tittery; the
important right of buying powder, sulphur, and weapons in France; and
freedom of trade between the Arabs and the French. In ceding the
Province of Tittery, Bugeaud had violated the strict orders of the
French Government, alleging in excuse to the Minister of War that any
other arrangement was "impossible." The treaty, in fact, confined the
French to a few towns on the seacoast, with small adjacent territories.
All the fortresses and strongholds in the interior were left in the
hands of Abd-el-Kader. He was the possessor of two-thirds of Algeria,
and he appeared before the world as the friend and ally of France.

The treaty was held by the French Government to be a high stroke of
policy, converting an enemy into an ally. The French people regarded it
as a humiliating surrender of French territory to a rival power. It was
the culminating point of Abd-el-Kader's career.

During the year 1839 the Sultan was engaged in the work of a statesman,
legislator, administrator, and reformer, displaying wonderful activity,
enterprise, vigor, and intellectual power as the founder of an empire
which, for the happiness of Algeria, was to be too short-lived. After
the Tafna Treaty he had received a magnificent present of arms from
Louis Philippe, King of the French, and, as a man who had subdued,
either by arms or by persuasive eloquence, the hardy, high-spirited
Kabyles he stood high in the estimation of his Moslem fellow-rulers in
Morocco and Egypt, Tripoli and Tunis, and of the _ulemas_, or bodies of
learned doctors in divinity and law, at Alexandria and Mecca, who
watched with joy, and with ardent expectation of yet higher things, the
career of one who seemed destined to revive the pristine glories of
Islam. The great Sultan, in order to consolidate his power both against
the French and over the Arabs, constructed a number of forts on the
limits of the Tell at Sebdou, on the west; at Saida, south of Tlemsen;
at Tekedemt, south of Mascara; at Boghar, south of Miliana; to the south
of Medea, and to the southeast of Algiers. Tekedemt, an old Roman town
about sixty miles southeast of Oran, was designed to be the capital, as
a great centre of commerce between the Tell and the Sahara.

The first stone of the new city and fortress had been laid by the Sultan
in May, 1836; and as the place grew, a population of settlers from
Mascara, Mostaganem, and other towns poured in. Large stores of warlike
munitions were formed, and a factory, worked by mechanics from Paris on
liberal wages, turned out eight new muskets a day. A mint of silver and
copper coins was established. The defences carried twelve cannon and six
mortars. A French observer, who was a prisoner at the time when the
Sultan was personally directing the works at Tekedemt, describes his
simple costume, like that of a laborer; his large tall hat, plaited with
palm-leaves; his "incomparable grace" and "fascinating smile" as he
saluted the man who was rather a guest than a captive.

The reforms of Abd-el-Kader included a regular police, schools, and
local tribunals of justice. All the chief towns had factories conducted
by Europeans, working in brass and iron, cotton and wool. The army
contained the finest irregular cavalry in the world, amounting, with all
the contingents from the tribes, to about sixty thousand men, only a
third of whom, however, were ever assembled for any single military
operation. His regular force comprised eight thousand infantry, two
thousand cavalry, twenty field-guns, and two hundred forty artillerymen.
His great ideal embraced the making the Arabs into one nation; the
recall of the whole people to a strict observance of religious duties;
the inspiring them with true patriotism; the calling forth of all their
capabilities for war, for commerce, for agriculture, and for mental
improvement; and the crowning of the whole by the impress of European
civilization. In laying the foundation for this mighty work, he had
already overcome vast difficulties by means of wonderful enterprise,
activity, and vigor. His intellectual greatness had caused him to shine
as a warrior, diplomatist, orator, and statesman. The Provinces of Oran
and Tittery and the plains of the Northern Sahara had been won by his
military prowess.

A still nobler triumph in the exhibition of moral power was beheld in
his dealings with the region called Great Kabylia, the superb range of
the Djurjura Mountains extending eastward from Algiers. The hardy
Kabyles of that territory had remained unsubdued amid the changing
governments which had risen and fallen around them. As independent
little republics, bound together by the most exalted spirit of freedom,
they had ever preserved their usages, customs, and laws. In September,
1839, Abd-el-Kader, attended by only fifty horsemen, suddenly appeared
among them. Thousands gathered around his tent from the valleys and
fastnesses. He addressed them in a stirring and argumentative harangue,
pointing out union under his standard as the only safeguard against
French conquest. With loud shouts they accepted his faithful caliph, Ben
Salem, as their chief in war, and agreed to pay the regular imposts and
to go forth to the Djehad. For thirty days the Sultan made a progress
through the country, everywhere received with joy and enthusiasm as a
venerated _hadji_ and marabout, as a teacher of the law, as a man of
pious life, as a renowned warrior and an eloquent preacher. We cannot
dwell here on his educational and moral reforms, his earnest efforts to
enforce the teaching of the _Koran_, which was his guide in his public
and private life. His beneficent intentions were all to be frustrated by
the ambition of a European nation which was to signally fail, not in the
work of conquering Abd-el-Kader, but in turning her conquest to good
account.

Hastily drawn treaties are a prolific source of war. The Treaty of the
Tafna was a flagrant example of this class of diplomatic documents.
There were two drafts: one in Arabic, with the Sultan's seal; the other
in French, with Bugeaud's. The drafts were not carefully compared. The
limits of territory assigned to each of the parties were not made clear.
One instance of the lack of identity in the two forms of the instrument
will suffice. The French form declared that Abd-el-Kader acknowledged
the sovereignty of France. The Sultan had never dreamed of making an
admission which, in its effect on the tribes, would have cost him his
throne. What he had written, in Arabic, in the article which he
subscribed, was, properly translated, "The Emir Abd-el-Kader
acknowledges that there is a French Sultan, and that he is great."

A new Governor-General, Marshal Valee, had assumed his functions at
Algiers in November, 1837. Disputes arose as to the territorial rights
of the Sultan under the Tafna Treaty, and after vain negotiations and
missions to and fro matters were brought to a head by Marshal Valee in
the despatch of an expedition to march over some disputed ground as a
demonstration of French power and an assertion of French rights. A
column under the Duc d'Orleans started from Milah, in the Province of
Constantine, lately conquered by the French, to march across the
disputed territory and thence onward. A way was gained through a
formidable pass called the "Iron Gates," in October, 1839, by a simple
process. The defile was one which a few hundred men could have held
against any force, but the Kabyle sheiks were shown passports bearing
Abd-el-Kader's seal and authorizing the passage of French troops. The
seal of the Sultan had been forged. On November 1st Valee and the French
Prince made a triumphant entry into Algiers, after this despicable piece
of treachery, and were saluted as the heroes of the "Iron Gates."

The news reached Abd-el-Kader at Tekedemt. He sprang on his horse, and
in forty-eight hours, riding night and day, was at Medea, whence he
despatched a reproachful and defiant letter to the French Governor. He
called the tribesmen to arms, formally declared war, swept down on the
plains, destroyed the French cantonments, agricultural establishments,
and outposts; slew many colonists, burned the villages and drove
panic-stricken fugitives headlong into the city of Algiers. The French
Government then ostentatiously declared the adoption of a firm policy
and announced Algeria to be "henceforth and forever a French province."
Reenforcements were rapidly sent to Algiers, and the effective army of
Valee was soon raised to thirty thousand men. The Sultan headed about
the same number of cavalry, regular and irregular, and six thousand
regular infantry. A fair trial of strength, Frenchman against Arab, was
now to be made.

Concentrating his army at Blidah, at the foot of the lesser Atlas range,
the French Marshal marched on Medea and Millana. The river Chiffa was
passed on April 27, 1840. The Sultan's cavalry appeared in large numbers.
By a feigned movement, Abd-el-Kader induced his enemy to enter the
mountains by the gorges of the Monzaia, which he had spent months in
fortifying. Every eminence useful for the purpose was cut into
intrenchments. A redoubt with heavy batteries crowned the highest peak.
Near this were placed his regular infantry, officered by French
deserters. Arabs and Kabyles swarmed in all directions, and, crouching
in nooks, were ready to open fire on the French army as it wound its way
with steady march along the narrow causeway which hung midway on the
mountain slopes.

Valee had divided his force into three columns, one of which was led by
Lamoriciere, a man to become famous in Algerian warfare. The Sultan was
now to see the value of French infantry. To the astonishment of the
Arabs, the enemy, leaving the road, came darting over the steeps.
Ravines, woods, and rocks were all mastered in the rush. Slowly but
surely they were reaching the intrenchments, when a thick veil came over
the scene from the smoke of incessant fire. The mist rolled away before
the breeze sweeping through the pass, and the combatants met and fought
hand to hand. The Arabs and Kabyles clung desperately to their places of
shelter, but the French clambered up, grasping at shrubs and branches,
ever winning their way. Abd-el-Kader made a last stand in person at the
great redoubt, while his regulars and masses of Kabyles gathered round
him. The converging columns of the French came creeping on amid the roll
of drums and the blare of trumpets. The Arabs, bewildered by foes
attacking them both in front and rear, wavered, broke, and fled.
Lamoriciere and his Zouaves, Changarnier and the Second Light Infantry,
burst over the intrenchments, and the tricolor waved on the summit of
the Atlas.

Abd-el-Kader retreated on Miliana, while the conqueror, entering Medea,
found it abandoned and half burned. The Sultan had made his last attempt
to fight the French on the principles of European warfare. His caliphs
and chiefs were ordered never again to meet the enemy in masses, but to
harass them in hanging on their flanks and rear, cutting their
communications, attacking baggage and transports, and waging a contest
of feigned retreats, ambuscades, and sudden sallies in order to bewilder
and weary the foe. Miliana was evacuated by Abd-el-Kader on Valee's
approach, but the chance of Arab warfare came when the French entered
the mountain passes. Unceasing attacks, day and night, caused severe
loss to the lately victorious French, with the capture of baggage and
the abandonment of all wounded men. The French garrisons in Medea and
Miliana were soon reduced to want by blockade of the surrounding
country, and by October, 1840, the garrison of Miliana had almost
disappeared, from the effects of fever and famine. Out of fifteen
hundred men, the half had perished; five hundred were in hospital and
the remainder were haggard wretches who could hardly hold their muskets.
Such was the warfare in the mountains of the Province of Tittery, and
Abd-el-Kader by his swift movements kept the enemy ever on the alert,
and often in trouble, from the frontiers of Morocco to those of Tunis.

The real and decisive struggle began early in 1841. The right man was at
last found by the French to deal with the hitherto indomitable Sultan of
Tittery and Oran. The Government at Paris had begun in some sort to
understand the power of their formidable adversary, and a serious effort
was to be made. On February 22, 1841, General Bugeaud assumed office as
Governor-General of Algeria. He had now come, not in the mood and with
the policy of the day when he concluded the Treaty of the Tafna, but as
one whose task it was to crush every rival power in Algeria. For this
end, eighty-five thousand men were placed under his command. Thomas
Bugeaud was a man of great ability, and he has the credit of devising
the only method by which such an antagonist as Abd-el-Kader, in such a
country, could be subdued.

Against an adversary so mobile, so full of expedients and resource,
mobility and incessantly offensive movements offered the only chance of
success. The French Commander knew that it was no mere army, but a
people in arms, that he was to encounter. His forces were at once
organized in many small, compact columns, each composed of a few
infantry battalions and two squadrons of horse, with a little transport
train of mules and camels and two mountain howitzers. Picked men alone,
acclimatized and used to toil, were employed, and they carried nothing
but their muskets and ammunition, with a little food. These columns were
placed under the command of such energetic leaders as Changarnier and
Cavaignac, Canrobert and Pelissier, Bedeau and Lamoriciere, St. Arnaud
and the Duc d'Aumale.

The campaign opened with the revictualling of Medea and Miliana, with
great losses to the French, as Abd-el-Kader disputed every inch of the
ground. Bugeaud, personally operating in Oran, reached Tekedemt on May
25th, and found it deserted and in flames. Boghar, Saida, and other
fortresses were successively destroyed. The enemies of the Sultan were
paying a heavy price for success. At the end of 1841 Bugeaud, out of
sixty thousand men in the field, had only four thousand fit for duty.
The rest had perished or were invalided for the time, from the toil of
marches, incessant fighting, and the heat of the climate. The French
Government's proposals of peace, on certain terms, only confirmed
Abd-el-Kader in his resolve to try the extremities of war.

Bugeaud's main object was to establish permanent centres of action in
the very heart of the Arab confederation of tribes, and, by rapidly
consecutive expeditions radiating from these centres, to give his troops
the ubiquity of Abd-el-Kader's forces. The chief seat of the Sultan's
power was the Province of Oran, and this was made the principal scene of
operations. Mascara was held by Lamoriciere, Tlemsen by Bedeau.
Changarnier was in observation on the western frontier of the plain of
Algiers; Tittery was menaced by D'Aumale. From Oran and Mostaganem three
columns were sent forth against the tribes occupying the large expanse
of territory lying between the Atlas Mountains and the Mediterranean,
and the tribes extending toward the Sahara. The first force, headed by
Bugeaud in person, marched along the valley of the Cheliff, and then
joined the second column under Changarnier, coming from Blida. The third
body, under Lamoriciere, aimed at pushing Abd-el-Kader back to the south
in order to separate him from the tribes assailed by Changarnier and
Bugeaud.

The plan of campaign was formidable for the Arabs, but it was
encountered by the Sultan with wonderful skill and daring in a struggle
which involved some thrilling episodes, Lamoriciere, in his efforts to
overtake the foe, was constantly baffled. Hearing that Abd-el-Kader was
before Mascara, he hurried thither by forced marches, only to find that
his enemy had passed by his rear and was raiding a tribe friendly to the
French. Pursuing in the new direction, the French leader was outmaneuvre
by the Sultan's bold and rapid dash across the Cheliff, placing his
Arabs between Bugeaud and the sea, and recovering his ascendency over
the tribes in that region. Abd-el-Kader then swept in a _razzia_ to the
south of Miliana, and soon appeared in full force in the Sahara as the
bewildered French pursuers returned to their cantonments in despair of
reaching him. This is a sample of the evolutions by which genius made
amends for inferiority of force. The ablest military combinations were
rendered abortive by an enemy that was ever slipping between columns,
flitting in the front, hovering on the flanks, assailing the rear, and,
with perfect knowledge of the country, was sometimes in the mountains
and again in the plains, ubiquitous, unattainable for serious conflict.

Abd-el-Kader, leaving his caliphs to maintain this exasperating species
of warfare in the Province of Oran, made for the frontiers of Morocco.
There many tribes had submitted under the influence of Bedeau's military
and diplomatic skill. The Sultan's communications with the country
whence he drew his weapons, clothing, and ammunition were seriously
threatened. His appearance at once brought back the Kabyles of Nedrouma
to their allegiance, and their example was followed by other tribes,
with the result that his army was increased to the number of three
thousand cavalry and five thousand infantry. Able now to confront the
enemy, Abd-el-Kader during the months of March and April, 1842, had
frequent encounters with Bedeau, The issue was yet indecisive when the
Sultan was called away to Mascara to deal with Lamoriciere, who had been
gaining ground and winning over tribes, including even a large part of
Abd-el-Kader's own people, the Hashems. Lamoriciere, believing the
Sultan to be still engaged with Bedeau, had marched toward the Sahara,
and Abd-el-Kader, by a mingling of severe punishment and mild treatment,
regained most of his old authority.

Lamoriciere, on receiving the news of his presence, hastened back to
find his recent work undone and to be assailed by the tribes who had so
lately joined him. Fighting his way bravely on to an encounter with the
great leader of the Arabs, the French general heard of him as in force
at Tekedemt. When he reached that place he found that Abd-el-Kader had
fallen on Changarnier toward Miliana. That general, knowing nothing of
the Sultan's approach, found himself enveloped by a vast force of Arabs
and Kabyles, regulars and irregulars, horse and foot, led on by
Abd-el-Kader in person and charging furiously on all sides.

After two days and nights of incessant battle, in which men closed
fiercely with pistols, swords, bayonets, and yataghans, the Sultan
vanished with his force, leaving the French too exhausted and crippled
by their losses for pursuit. Two days later tidings reached them that he
was in the Metidja, ravaging the plain and carrying terror to the very
gates of Algiers. Abd-el-Kader then bore away to the Atlas, ascended the
mountains, penetrated beyond Tittery and reached the Sahara, everywhere
inspiriting the tribes and raising fresh forces. After sweeping over
three hundred leagues of ground he returned, in recruited strength and
new energy, to press upon Lamoriciere and his garrison at Mascara with
all the rigors of a winter blockade.

In spite of his wonderful efforts, the Sultan could not but feel that he
was struggling with adverse fortune. The enemy by the seizure of his
fixed establishments had gained possession of a large part of his
territory and of the strongholds that had contained his stores of war.
His regular army had almost disappeared, and much of his credit among
the Arabs had departed. The _ketna_, which was his ancestral abode, had
been laid waste. He could not protect the families of his most faithful
adherents from constant exposure, in spite of his vigilant activity, to
the outrages of the detested infidels. In this position, he resolved to
remove from the scene of warfare those whom it was impossible for him to
desert with any regard to feelings of religion and humanity. He formed
his famous _smala_, a new and remarkable organization consisting of a
gathering of private families. To this moving asylum of refuge and
safety the Arab tribes sent their treasure, their herds, their women and
children, their sick and aged persons.

The smala was a great travelling capital, containing at first more than
twenty thousand souls, following the Sultan's movements; sometimes in
advance to the more cultivated regions, or in retreat to the Sahara,
according to the fluctuations of the contest which he was so bravely
waging. In the Sahara, the tents of the smala spread to the distant
horizon. In the Tell, they filled the valley and rose up the slopes of
the hills. All the arrangements were of military regularity. The
different _deiras_, or households, with tents varying in number with
their dwellers, were distributed into four great encampments. Each deira
knew its appointed place. Each chief had his station marked and his
special duties assigned. Four tribes were set apart to protect and guide
the smala in its wanderings, and the guard was composed of regular
troops. The existence of this organization, ever growing in extent,
became a powerful check on the disaffection of the tribes. When the
French leaders tempted them with fair promises, the warriors bethought
them of the pledges: the women, the children, the flocks and herds,
which were in the Sultan's hands. The genius of Abd-el-Kader had created
a new and widely extended political engine.

When the French leaders had learned to appreciate the importance of the
smala its capture or dispersal became a chief object with all officers
from the generals of corps to the colonels in charge of detachments. The
campaign of 1843 was opened by Lamoriciere, who occupied Tekedemt.
Abd-el-Kader with about fifteen hundred horsemen watched his movements
from some neighboring woods. He knew that the French commander's object
was the smala, and he remained in ambush for twenty days. He and his men
lived on acorns; the horses were fed on leaves. One day a stray sheep
was found. The Sultan would have none of it, and said, "Take it to my
starving soldiers," as he turned to his meal of acorns. Twice was
Lamoriciere repulsed in his search, and then a traitor revealed the
exact place of the smala encampment.

Lamoriciere remained to occupy the attention of Abd-el-Kader, and the
French column stationed at Medea was selected for the attack. The
leadership was intrusted to the Duc d'Aumale, and on May 10, 1843, he
started from Boghar with thirteen hundred infantry, six hundred horse,
and two field-guns.

The indicated place of encampment was found empty, and the French column
wandered about in uncertain fashion.

At break of day on May 16th the traitor made known the new spot of the
smala's halt, and D'Aumale at once daringly advanced with his cavalry
alone. The surprise created a panic among the people. The guard of five
hundred regulars fired a volley and fled. A handful of the Hashem tribe
bravely strove to stem the torrent, but they were swept away in the
rout, and in an hour all was over. The smala was broken up amid scenes
of terrible confusion and despair, including the extraordinary sight of
a promiscuous mass of camels, dromedaries, horses, mules, oxen, and
sheep careering and plunging on the plain. There was little bloodshed,
but the French victors were in possession of hostages of the utmost
value in the families of Abd-el-Ka-der's most influential chiefs. His
own family had escaped. The booty taken was immense, comprising
thousands of animals; the Sultan's valuable library of rare Arabic
manuscripts; the military chest containing some millions of francs, and
the chests of his caliphs and other high officers, filled with gold and
silver coins and costly jewellery. The French soldiers baled out dollars
and doubloons in their shakos, and helped themselves to diamonds and
pearls.

This dreadful blow, when the news reached him in the woods where he
watched near Lamoriciere's command, almost overwhelmed, for a time, even
the exalted and undaunted spirit of the Sultan. He spent some hours
alone in his tent, in meditation and prayer. He came forth with a smile
and addressed his chiefs, his officers, and men as they stood outside in
groups, some downcast and silent, some bitterly cursing their foe and
fate. He reminded them that the dear objects now lost had impeded the
movements of the holy war against the infidels, and that those who had
fallen were now in paradise. The next day he wrote to his caliphs,
bidding them not to be discouraged; they would thenceforth be lighter
and in better order for war. In fact at the time of the Duc d'Aumale's
attack, the population of the smala amounted to not less than sixty
thousand. Not more than three thousand prisoners were taken; the rest of
the Arabs were dispersed in all directions. Some fell among Arab tribes
who plundered them; others were overtaken by Lamoriciere.

The blow was, on the whole, irreparable in its effects upon the
influence of the Sultan. Every day brought tidings of the defection of
some great tribe. The ranks of his enemies were swelled by large
contingents of Arabs.

Worse things were in store for the brave man contending with
ill-fortune. His ablest caliphs were removed by captivity or death in
action; the distant provinces fell a prey to the foe. The Province of
Oran became the scene of a desperate struggle. With a chosen and devoted
band of five thousand men Abd-el-Kader made his presence felt at all
points. Now he fell on recreant tribes; now he made head against the
French columns. Ever in the van, leading on the charge, plunging into
the thickest of the fight, by his example he encouraged and inspired his
followers. His bravest warriors fell around him; his horses were slain
under him; his burnoose was torn with bullets; but still he fought on.
The world's record can show no more brilliant instance of almost
superhuman heroism.

Once he was taken unawares. On September 23, 1843, he was encamped near
Sidi Yusuf with a battalion of infantry and five hundred irregular
horse. A spy made known his position to Lamoriciere, who was at a
distance of six leagues. The French General at once led out in person
the Second Chasseurs d'Afrique. A night's march covered the intervening
space and the spot was reached in the gray of dawn. The Sultan was
aroused from sleep by cries of "The French! the French!" He had barely
time to mount. He might have escaped, but he preferred the risk of death
to the double stain of surprise and flight. His infantry seized their
arms and fired a volley; his cavalry rallied at his voice. Then as the
smoke slowly rolled away he dashed into the French chasseurs, dispersed
them by the sudden shock, and after a few minutes' hard fighting drew
off his whole force in perfect order.

The Beni-Amers, the men whose four thousand sabres had waved in
exultation around the young leader of the Djehad; the men whose splendid
courage had opened before him the path of glory and of empire, had gone
over to the French. Abd-el-Kader resolved to attack them. Suddenly
descending upon them he swept through their encampments, slew numbers,
and carried off a great booty. A French battalion stationed among them
vainly strove to arrest his progress. An Arab chief, one of his old
followers, boldly singled him out, rode up, and fired at him
point-blank. The ball missed, and Abd-el-Kader shot the traitor dead
with his pistol.

The Sultan knew that all was lost unless he could obtain external aid.
The smala was now reduced to his own deira, a bare thousand souls,
wandering about in miserable fashion. After another desperate engagement
with Lamoriciere during which the Arab women cheered on the warriors,
and Abd-el-Kader and his men fighting in the presence of their wives and
children performed new prodigies of valor, he succeeded in safely
establishing the noncombatants on the territory of Morocco.

Bugeaud, now become a marshal, wrote to his Government declaring that
all serious warfare was finished. In the summer of 1844, the violation
of Abderrahman's territory by French troops under Lamoriciere and Bedeau
led to some warfare, in which the Moroccan troops were twice defeated.
The people of the country were strongly in favor of Abd-el-Kader; and
when their Sultan, after a French bombardment of Tangiers and Mogador,
made a treaty with France by which the Algerian hero was "placed beyond
the pale of the law throughout the Empire of Morocco, as well as in
Algeria," and was to be "pursued by main force by the Moroccans on their
own territory," the Moorish population was filled with resentment.
Letters reached Abd-el-Kader from Fez, the capital, dictated and signed
by the first grandees in the State, both civil and military, and from
the commercial classes, inviting him to ascend the throne of his
ancestors. Had he been a mere adventurer or usurper he might have lived
henceforth, and died, Emperor of Morocco, But his whole soul was
patriotically bent on one object, the freedom and independence of
Algeria. He disdained to wear a borrowed crown. As he afterward
declared, "His religion forbade him to injure a sovereign chosen and
appointed by God."

During the year 1844 the Sultan had made a rapid incursion into the
Tell, everywhere appealing to the tribes; but he found the national
spirit overawed by the presence of French detachments in all directions,
and he returned to his deira in despondent spirit. He now received
appeals from some of his devoted caliphs to undertake a fresh campaign,
especially from the loyal and chivalrous Ben Salem, who dwelt in the
gorges of the Djur jura Mountains. To him Abd-el-Kader replied,
promising to come "as soon as affairs in the west were settled."

Months passed away and the Arab tribes who had submitted began to feel
the pressure of French domination and to resent the supercilious conduct
of French officials. In the spring of 1845 their former Sultan
reappeared. He swept down into the valley of the Tafna and routed and
cut to pieces a French detachment. In this action the lower part of his
right ear was carried away by a musket-ball, the only wound which he
ever received. Another detachment of six hundred men laid down their
arms without firing a shot. Some stir was made among the Arabs by these
successes, and the French commanders took alarm. Lamoriciere, Cavaignac,
and Bedeau wrote pressing letters for reinforcements, and urged the
return of Bugeaud. The most formidable foe of Abd-el-Kader reached the
scene of action in October, 1845, bringing fresh forces, and in a week
he took the field at the head of a hundred twenty thousand men. This
fact is the highest eulogy that can be accorded to the military prowess
of a man who so long defied the power of France.

The end of the great career was rapidly coming. After another vain
appeal to the Moorish ruler even Abd-el-Kader felt that all was lost. A
French writer in the _Biographie generale_ truly declares:

"The greatness of the man was strikingly displayed in the very hour of
his downfall. Destitute of resources, surrounded by foes, at open enmity
with the Emperor of Morocco, wandering like a hunted lion, with hardly
any comrade but his horse, no shelter except his tent, Abd-el-Kader
still inspired a terror which forced his enemies to keep a great army on
foot in Algeria for protection against possible attacks at his hand."

In his deira, at this time, all was despondency and grief. His own
brothers had abandoned him. Ben Salem, the faithful, long-tried, devoted
friend and follower, was a voluntary prisoner in the French camp.
Abd-el-Kader's whole force was fewer than two thousand men, but among
these were twelve hundred horsemen, the flower of the Algerian cavalry.
Most of them had been his inseparable comrades, partakers in all his
hardships and dangers, throughout his career. During a short period of
rest he summoned them daily around him and aroused new enthusiasm among
the bronzed veterans by his eloquent words.

On December 9, 1847, the deira was stationed on Moorish territory, at
Agueddin, on the left bank of the Melouia. It comprised in all about
five thousand souls. The next day news arrived that a great Moorish host
under the Sultan's two sons was only three hours' march away. On January
11th, Abd-el-Kader gathered his armed force, marched at dead of night
and fell furiously on the first division of the Moors and Arabs. The
slumbering foe awoke to see the thick darkness illumined by flashes of
light from muskets. Seized with panic, the men rushed away in all
directions, abandoning arms, tents, and baggage. In the mean time
Abd-el-Kader and his men swept onward and attacked the second division,
which was also defeated and dispersed. In half an hour the third
division was reached. This force had time to prepare for defence, and
the assailants withdrew before a steady fire of infantry and artillery
to an adjacent hill. At midday five thousand Moorish cavalry moved out
against Abd-el-Kader's little army. At charging distance he led on his
men, swept through the foe, and by a skilful combination of assault and
retreat regained his deira by the river Melouia, before sunset. The
deira had nearly effected its passage across the river, with the baggage
and the spoils taken from the enemy, when the Moorish army was seen
cautiously advancing.

The situation was full of peril. The deira had never been so exposed.
The ammunition was expended and the infantry was thus counted out of the
fight. Abd-el-Kader could only depend on his "Old Guard"--his matchless
cavalry. At length the Melouia was passed, and, although the foe was
pressing on, he would not leave its bank until the noncombatants had
gained a full hour in advance. Then the deira crossed another stream and
reached a place of safety, for the time, on French territory. Not a life
had been lost nor a beast of burden of all that crowd of men, women,
children, and animals. Coolness, intrepidity, and skill had been their
protectors. Of the fighting men, however, more than two hundred had been
slain, and nearly all the rest were suffering from wounds.

Abd-el-Kader now turned toward the hills inhabited by a tribe which
still, in part, adhered to him. His horsemen followed him in anxious
silence, suffering and exhausted. The rain fell in torrents. Their chief
was tormented by conflicting thoughts. A French camp was visible in the
distance, three hours' march away, occupying a pass. He and his cavalry
might yet escape by narrow defiles into the Sahara. But what of his aged
mother, his wife and children, his helpless followers in the deira? All
would become captives to the foe. He called his men around him and
reminded them of the oath which, eight years before on the renewal of
the war, they had taken at Medea that they would never forsake him in
any danger or suffering. All declared themselves ready still to adhere
to it. He set before them the peril of the people in the deira and
suggested submission. All the warriors cried: "Perish women and children
so long as you are safe and able to renew the battles of God. You are
our head, our Sultan; fight or surrender, as you will, we will follow
you wherever you choose to lead." After a few moments' pause
Abd-el-Kader declared that the struggle was over. The tribes were tired
of the war and there was nothing left but submission. He would ask the
French for a safe-conduct for himself and his family, and for all who
chose to follow him, to another Mussulman country. The universal answer
was, "Sultan, let your will be done!"

The incessant rain rendered it impossible to write down any terms.
Abd-el-Kader therefore affixed his seal to a piece of paper, and
despatched it in charge of two horsemen to the French general as a sign
of authorization on his part for demands to be verbally made. It was
Lamoriciere who received the two emissaries; and he sent a verbal reply,
acceding to all proposals. Abd-el-Kader then sent a letter, and received
in reply a written promise and stipulation that the Sultan and his
family should be conducted to St. Jean d'Acre or Alexandria. The new
Governor-General, the Duc d'Aumale, was close at hand, and on the
evening of December 23, 1847, the fallen hero, attended by some of his
chiefs and men, escorted by five hundred French cavalry, who showed
great respect and sympathy for the captives, arrived at headquarters.
Abd-el-Kader, attended by Lamoriciere and Cavaignac, was presented to
the son of Louis Philippe. The Prince pledged himself that Lamoriciere's
promise and stipulation should be strictly observed. He knew little that
his father's throne was about to fall, and that the decision as to
Abd-el-Kader's fate would, within a few weeks, rest in far different
hands. The ex-Sultan then withdrew to his deira, which had now joined
the French encampment.

On the next morning, December 24th, the Governor-General held a review.
His honored prisoner and guest, riding a splendid black charger of the
purest Arab breed, and surrounded by his chiefs, awaited his return from
the field. When the Prince approached, Abd-el-Kader dismounted and
offered his steed as a present in testimony of his gratitude, and
expressed the hope that he might always bear his new master in safety
and happiness. The Duc d'Aumale replied, "I accept it as a homage
rendered to France, the protection of which country will henceforth be
ever extended toward you, and as a sign that the past is forgotten."

On December 25th the Algerian hero embarked with his family and
followers in a French frigate for Toulon. He had seen the last of his
native land. Lamoriciere accompanied him on board and supplemented his
poor resources with a present of four thousand francs, receiving
Abd-el-Kader's sword in return. The _Moniteur_ of January 3, 1848, paid
a high tribute to the genius and ascendency of the captive in these
words: "The subjugation of Abd-el-Kader is an event of immense
importance to France. It assures the tranquillity of our conquest.
To-day France can, if necessary, transport to other quarters the hundred
thousand men who hold the conquered populations under her yoke."




(1847) THE MEXICAN WAR, John Bonner


When President Polk began his Administration, the United States
Government had become involved in two boundary disputes--one relating to
Oregon, the other to Texas and Mexico. Out of the latter came the
Mexican War, concerning the political causes and merits of which there
were then and ever since have been wide differences of opinion among the
American people. Polk's election by the Democrats in 1844 had turned
mainly upon the question of annexing Texas. Just before he came into
office the annexation was made.

Texas claimed as her western boundary the Rio Grande. Mexico held that
the western limit was the Nueces. Between the two rivers there was a
large area of disputed territory. The Texan claim was opposed by many
American statesmen and publicists, and by some was denounced--as the
annexation of Texas had been--as an aggressive move against Mexico. But
the United States Government supported the cause of Texas. General
Zachary Taylor, who had served in the War of 1812, and afterward in
several Indian wars, took command of the army in Texas in 1845. In
January, 1846, he was ordered to occupy positions on or near the left
bank of the Rio Grande del Norte. This order and its execution have been
held by some writers to constitute an act of war, but war was not
formally declared by the United States till May 11th. Taylor, with a
small force, had several slight encounters with Mexican troops, after
which he won the battle of Palo Alto (May 8, 1846), near the southern
extremity of Texas; and that of Resaca de la Palma (May 9th), also in
Texas, four miles north of Matamoros, Mexico. He took possession of
Matamoros May 18th. With six thousand men, against about ten thousand
Mexicans under Ampudia, Taylor captured Monterey, Mexico (September
24th), and at Buena Vista, February 22-23, 1847, with five thousand
troops, he defeated fifteen thousand Mexicans under Santa Anna, then
President of Mexico and commander of her army.

The war was now transferred to the district between Vera Cruz and the
City of Mexico, the capital, and was henceforth conducted for the United
States by General Winfield Scott, whose previous military career had
been much the same as General Taylor's. Scott had been made
Major-General and Commander-in-Chief of the Army in 1841. His first
operation in Mexico was the taking of Vera Cruz, the principal Mexican
seaport, on the Gulf of Mexico. With the aid of a fleet he besieged the
city in March, 1847, and on the 27th received its surrender. At Cerro
Gordo (April 17th and 18th) he won an important victory that opened his
way through the mountains toward his objective, the city of Mexico.
Reenforcements gradually reached him, and by the first of August he was
ready to move on the valley of Mexico with about eleven thousand men.
From this stage to the fall of the capital, completing the conquest of
the country, Bonner's account gives a graphic recital of events. The
city was held by Americans from September 14, 1847, the day they entered
it, until the signing of the Treaty of Guadalupe-Hidalgo (February 2,
1848), which ended the war.

With the energy that characterized Santa Anna throughout the Mexican
War, he had prepared for a desperate defence. Civil strife had been
silenced, funds raised, an army of twenty-five thousand men mustered,
and every precaution taken which genius could suggest or science
indicate. Nature had done much for him. Directly in front of the
invading army lay the large lakes of Xochimilco and Chalco. These
turned, vast marshes, intersected by ditches and for the most part
impassable, surrounded the city on the east and the south--on which side
Scott was advancing--for several miles. The only approaches were by
causeways; and these Santa Anna had taken prodigious pains to guard. The
national road to Vera Cruz--which Scott must have taken had he marched
on the north side of the lakes--was commanded by a fort mounting
fifty-one guns on an impregnable hill called El Penon. Should he turn
the southern side of the lakes, a field of lava, deemed almost
impassable for troops, interposed a primary obstacle; and fortified
positions at San Antonio, San Angel, and Churubusco, with an intrenched
camp at Contreras, were likewise to be surmounted before the southern
causeways could be reached. Beyond these there yet remained the
formidable castle of Chapultepec and the strong enclosure of Molino del
Rey, to be stormed before the city gates could be reached. Powerful
batteries had been mounted at all these points, and ample garrisons
detailed to serve them. The bone and muscle of Mexico were there.

Goaded by defeat, Santa Anna never showed so much vigor; ambition fired
Valencia; patriotism stirred the soul of Alvarez; Canalizo, maddened by
the odium into which he had fallen, was boiling to regain his soubriquet
of the "Lion of Mexico." With a constancy equal to anything recorded of
the Roman Senate, the Mexican Congress, on learning of the defeat at
Cerro Gordo, had voted unanimously that anyone opening negotiations with
the enemy should be deemed a traitor; and the citizens with one accord
had ratified the vote. Within six months Mexico had lost two splendid
armies in two pitched battles against the troops now advancing against
the capital; but she never lost heart, and her spirit quailed not.

The engineers reporting that the fortress on El Penon could not be
carried without a loss of one-third the army, Scott decided to move by
the south of the lakes; and Worth accordingly advanced, leading the van,
as far as San Augustin, nine miles from the city of Mexico. There a
large field of lava, known as the Pedregal, barred the way. On the one
side, two miles from San Augustin, the fortified works at San Antonio
commanded the passage between the field and the lake; on the other, the
ground was so much broken that infantry alone could advance, and General
Valencia occupied an intrenched camp, with a heavy battery, near the
village of Contreras, three miles distant. Scott determined to attack on
both sides, and sent forward General William J. Worth on the east, and
General Gideon J. Pillow and General David E. Twiggs on the west. The
latter advanced as fast as possible over the masses of lava on the
morning of the 19th, and by 2 P.M. a couple of light batteries were
placed in position and opened fire on the Mexican camp.

At the same time General Persifor Smith conceived the plan of turning
Valencia's left, and hastened along the path through the Pedregal in the
direction of a village called San Jeronimo. Colonel Riley followed.
Pillow sent Cadwallader's brigade on the same line, and later in the day
Morgan's regiment was likewise despatched toward that point. They drove
in the Mexican pickets and skirmishers, dispersed a few parties of
lancers, and occupied the village without loss. Seeing the movement,
Santa Anna hastened to Valencia's support with twelve thousand men. He
was discovered by Cadwallader just as the latter gained the village
road; and appreciating the vast importance of preventing a junction
between the two Mexican generals, that gallant officer did not hesitate
to draw up his brigade in order of battle. So broken was the ground that
Santa Anna could not see the amount of force opposed to him, and
declined the combat. This was all Cadwallader wanted. Shields's brigade
was advancing through the Pedregal, and the troops which had already
crossed were rapidly moving to the rear of Valencia's camp. Night too
was close at hand. When it fell, Smith's, Riley's, and Cadwallader's
commands had gained the point they sought. Shields joined them at ten
o'clock; and at midnight Captain Lee crossed the Pedregal, with a
message from General Smith to General Scott, to say that he would begin
the attack at daybreak next morning.

It rained all night and the men lay in the mud without fires. At three
in the morning (August 20th) the word was passed to march. Such pitchy
darkness covered the face of the plain that Smith ordered every man to
touch his front file as he marched. Now and then a flash of lightning
lighted the narrow ravine; occasionally a straggling moonbeam pierced
the clouds and shed an uncertain glimmer on the heights; but these
flitting guides served only to make the darkness seem darker. The
soldiers groped their way, stumbling over stones and brushwood, and did
not gain the rear of the camp till day broke. Then Riley bade his men
look to the priming of their guns, and reload those which the rain had
wet. With the first ray of daylight the firing had begun again between
the Mexican camp and Ransom's corps stationed in front and Shields's
brigade at San Jeronimo. Almost at the same moment Riley began to ascend
the height in the rear. Before he reached the crest, his engineers, who
had gone forward to reconnoitre, came running back to say that his
advance had been detected, that two guns were being pointed against him,
and a body of infantry were sallying from the camp, The news braced the
men's nerves. They gained the ridge, and stood a tremendous volley from
the Mexicans without flinching. Hanson of the Seventh--a gallant officer
and an excellent man--was shot down with many others; but the Mexicans
had done their worst.

With steady aim the volley was returned; and ere the smoke rose a cheer
rang through the ravine, and Riley fell with a swoop on the
intrenchments. With bayonet and butt of musket, the Second and Seventh
drove the enemy from his guns, leaping into his camp and slaughtering
all before them. Up rushed Smith's own brigade on the left, driving a
party of Mexicans before them, and charging with the bayonet straight at
Torrejon's cavalry, which was drawn up in order of battle. Defeat was
marked on their faces. Valencia was nowhere to be found. Salas strove
vainly to rouse his men to defend themselves with energy; Torrejon's
horse, smitten with panic, broke and fled at the advance of our
infantry. Riley hurled the Mexicans from their camp after a struggle of
a quarter of an hour; and as they rushed down the ravine, their own
cavalry rode over them, trampling down more men than the bayonet and
ball had laid low. On the right, as they fled, Cadwallader's brigade
poured in a destructive volley; and Shields, throwing his party across
the road, obstructed their retreat and compelled the fugitives to yield
themselves prisoners of war. The only fight of any moment had taken
place within the camp. There, for a few minutes, the Mexicans had fought
desperately; two of our regimental colors had been shot down, but
finally Anglo-Saxon bone and sinew had triumphed. To the exquisite
delight of the assailants, the first prize of victory was the guns
O'Brien had abandoned at Buena Vista, which were regained by his own
regiment. Twenty other guns and more than a thousand prisoners,
including eighty-eight officers and four generals, were likewise
captured, and about fifteen hundred Mexicans killed and wounded. The
American loss in killed, wounded, and missing was about one hundred men.

Barely taking time to breathe his troops, Smith followed in pursuit
toward the city. By ten o'clock in the morning he reached San Angel,
which Santa Anna evacuated as he approached. The General-in-Chief and
the generals of division had by this time relieved Smith of his command.
Scott rode to the front, and in a few brief words told the men there was
more work to be done that day. A loud cheer from the ranks was the
reply. The whole force then advanced to Coyacan, within a mile of
Churubusco, and prepared to assault the place.

Santa Anna considered it the key to the city, and awaited the attack in
perfect confidence with thirty thousand men. The defences were simple.
On the west, in the direction of Coyacan, stood the large stone convent
of San Pablo, which, as well as the wall and breastworks in front, was
filled with infantry, and which contained seven heavy guns. A breastwork
connected San Pablo with the _tete de pont_ over the Churubusco River,
four hundred yards distant. This was the easternmost point of defence,
and formed part of the San Antonio causeway leading to the city. It was
a work constructed with the greatest skill--bastions, curtain, and wet
ditch, everything was complete and perfect--four guns were mounted in
embrasure and barbette, and as many men as the place would hold were
stationed there. The reserves occupied the causeway behind Churubusco.
Independently of his defences, Santa Anna's numbers--nearly five to
one--should have insured the repulse of the assailants.

By eleven--hardly seven hours having elapsed since the Contreras camp
had been stormed, five miles away--Twiggs and Pillow were in motion
toward the San Antonio causeway. Nothing had been heard of Worth, who
had been directed to move along the east side of the Pedregal on San
Antonio, but it was taken for granted he had carried the point, and
Scott wished to cut off the retreat of the garrison. Twiggs was
advancing cautiously toward the convent when a heavy firing was heard in
advance. Supposing that a reconnoitring party had been attacked, he
hastily sent forward the First Artillery, under Dimmick, through a field
of tall corn, to support them. No sooner had they separated from the
main body than a terrific discharge of grape, canister, and musketry
assailed them from the convent. In the teeth of the storm they advanced
to within one hundred yards of that building, and a light battery under
Taylor was brought up on their right, and opened on the convent.

More than an hour the gunners stood firm to their pieces under afire as
terrible as troops ever endured; one-third of the command had fallen
before they were withdrawn. Colonel Riley meanwhile, with the stormers
of Contreras, had been despatched to assail San Pablo on the west, and,
like Dimmick, was met by a murderous rain of shot. Whole heads of
companies were mowed down at once. Thus Captain Smith fell, twice
wounded, with every man beside him; and a single discharge from the
Mexican guns swept down Lieutenant Easley and the division he led. It
was the second time that day the gallant Second had served as targets
for the Mexicans, but not a man fell back. General Smith ordered up the
Third in support, and these, protecting themselves as best they could
behind a few huts, kept up a steady fire on the convent. Sallies from
the works were continually made, and as continually repelled, but not a
step could the assailants make in advance.

By this time the battle was raging at three different points. Worth had
marched on San Antonio that morning, found it evacuated, and given chase
to the Mexicans with the Fifth and Sixth Infantry. The causeway leading
from San Antonio to the _tete de pont_ of Churubusco was thronged with
flying horse and foot; our troops dashed headlong after them, never
halting till the advance corps--the Sixth--were within short range of
the Mexican batteries. A tremendous volley from the _tete de pont_ in
front, and the convent on the flank, then forced them to await the
arrival of the rest of the division. This was the fire which Twiggs
heard when he sent Dimmick against the convent.

Worth came up almost immediately; and directing the Sixth to advance as
best they could along the causeway in the teeth of the _tete de pont_,
despatched Garland's and Clarke's brigades through the fields on the
right to attack it in flank. Every gun was instantly directed against
the assailants; and though the day was bright and clear, the clouds of
smoke actually darkened the air. Hoffman, waving his sword, cheered on
the Sixth; but the shot tore and ripped up their ranks to such a degree
that in a few minutes they had lost ninety-seven men. The brigades on
the right suffered as severely. One hundred men fell within the space of
an acre. Still they pressed on, till the Eighth (of Clarke's brigade)
reached the ditch. In they plunged, Lieutenant Longstreet bearing the
colors in advance; he scrambled out on the other side, dashed at the
walls without ladders or scaling implements, and bayoneted the defenders
as they took aim. At last, officers and men mixed pell-mell, some
through the embrasures, some over the walls, rushed or leaped in and
drove the garrison helter-skelter upon their reserves.

The _tete de pont_ gained, its guns were turned on the convent, whence
the Mexicans were still slaughtering our gallant Second and Third.
Duncan's battery, too, hitherto in reserve, was brought up and opened
with such rapidity that a bystander estimated the intervals between the
reports at three seconds! Stunned by this novel attack, the garrison of
San Pablo slackened fire. In an instant the Third, followed by Dimmick's
artillery, dashed forward with the bayonet to storm the nearest bastion.
With a run they carried it, the artillery bursting over the curtain; but
at that moment a dozen white flags waved in their faces. The whole
fortified position of Churubusco was taken.

Meantime, however, a conflict as deadly as either of these was raging
behind the Mexican fortifications. Soon after the battle commenced,
Scott sent Pierce's and Shields's brigades by the left, through the
fields, to attack the enemy in the rear. On the causeway, opposed to
them, were planted Santa Anna's reserves--four thousand foot and three
thousand horse--in a measure protected by a dense growth of maguey.
Shields advanced intrepidly with his force of sixteen hundred. The
ground was marshy, and for a long distance--having vainly endeavored to
outflank the enemy--his advance was exposed to their whole fire. Morgan,
of the Fifteenth, fell wounded. The New York regiment suffered
fearfully, and their leader, Colonel Burnett, was disabled. The
Palmettos of South Carolina, and the Ninth under Ransom, were as
severely cut up; and after a while all sought shelter in and about a
large barn near the causeway. Shields, in an agony at the failure of his
movement, cried imploringly for volunteers to follow him.

The appeal was instantly answered by Colonel Butler, of the Palmettos:
"Every South Carolinian will follow you to the death!" The cry was
contagious, and most of the New Yorkers took it up. Forming at angles to
the causeway, Shields led these brave men, under an incessant hail of
shot, against the village of Portales, where the Mexican reserves were
posted. Not a trigger was pulled till they stood at a hundred fifty
yards from the enemy. Then the little band poured in their volley,
fatally answered by the Mexican host. Butler, already wounded, was shot
through the head and died instantly. Calling to the Palmettos to avenge
his death, Shields gives the word to charge. They charge--not four
hundred in all--over the plain and down upon four thousand Mexicans
securely posted under cover. At every step their ranks are thinned.
Dickenson, who succeeded Butler in command of the Palmettos, seizes the
colors as the bearer falls dead; the next moment he is down himself,
mortally wounded, and Major Gladden snatches them from his hand.

Adams, Moragne, and nearly half the gallant band are prostrate. A very
few minutes more and there will be no one left to bear the glorious
flag.

But at this very moment a deafening roar is heard in the direction of
the _tete de pont_. Round shot and grape, rifle-balls and canister, come
crashing down the causeway into the Mexican ranks from their own
battery. Worth is there, the gallant fellow, just in time. Down the road
and over the ditch, through the field and hedge and swamp, in tumult and
panic the Mexicans are flying from the bayonets of the Sixth and
Garland's brigade. A shout, louder than the cannon's peal; Worth is on
their heels with his men. Before Shields reaches the causeway he is by
his side driving the Mexican horse into their infantry, and Ayres is
galloping up with a captured Mexican gun. Captain Kearny, with a few
dragoons, dashes past, rides straight into the flying host, scatters
them right and left, sabres all he can reach, and halts before the gate
of Mexico. Not till then does he perceive that he is alone with his
little party, nearly all of whom are wounded; but, despite the hundreds
of _escopetas_ that are levelled at him, he gallops back in safety to
headquarters.

The sun, which rose that morning on a proud army and a defiant
metropolis, set at even on a shattered, haggard band, and a city full of
woe-stricken wretches who did nothing all night but quake with terror,
and cry, at every noise, "_Aqui viene los Yanquies_!" ("Here come the
Yankees!") All along the causeway, and in the fields and swamps on
either side, heaps of dead men and cattle intermingled with broken
ammunition-carts, marked where the American shot had told. A gory track
leading to the _tete de pont_, groups of dead in the fields on the west
of Churubusco, over whose pale faces some stalks of tattered corn still
waved; red blotches in the marsh next the causeway, where the rich blood
of Carolina and New York soaked the earth, showed where the fire of the
heavy Mexican guns and the countless _escopetas_ of the infantry had
been most murderous. Scott had lost, in that day's work, more than a
thousand men in killed and wounded, seventy-nine of whom were officers.
The Mexican loss, according to Santa Anna, was one-third of his army,
equal probably to ten thousand men, one-fourth of whom were prisoners,
the rest killed and wounded. As the sun went down the troops were
recalled to headquarters; but all night long the battlefield swarmed
with straggling parties seeking some lost comrade in the cold and rain,
and surgeons hurrying from place to place and offering succor to the
wounded.

It would have been easy for Scott to march on the city that night, or
next morning, and seize it before the Mexicans recovered from the shock
of their defeat. Anxious to shorten the war, and assured that Santa Anna
was desirous of negotiating; warned, moreover, by neutrals and others,
that the hostile occupation of the capital would destroy the last chance
of peaceable accommodation and rouse the Mexican spirit to resistance
all over the country, the American general consented, too generously
perhaps, to offer an armistice to his vanquished foe. It was eagerly
accepted, and negotiations were commenced which lasted over a fortnight.
In the mean time General Scott had the satisfaction of hanging several
of the Irishmen who had deserted to the Mexicans, and, serving as the
battalion of San Patricio, had shot down so many of their old comrades
at Buena Vista and Churubusco. This act of justice was approved by the
army and the nation. Early in September the treachery of the Mexicans
became apparent. No progress had been made in the negotiations; and, in
defiance of the armistice, an American wagon, proceeding to the city for
provisions, had been attacked by the mob and one man killed and others
wounded. Scott wrote to Santa Anna, demanding an apology, and
threatening to terminate the armistice on the 7th if it were not
tendered. The reply was insulting in the extreme; Santa Anna had
repaired his losses and was ready for another fight.

On the evening of September 7th Worth and his officers were gathered in
his quarters at Tacubaya. On a table lay a hastily sketched map showing
the position of the fortified works at Molino del Rey, with the Casa
Mata on one side and the castle of Chapultepec on the other. The Molino
was occupied by the enemy; there was reason to believe it contained a
foundry in full operation, and Worth had been directed to storm it next
morning. Over that table bent Garland and Clarke, eager to repeat the
glorious deeds of August 20th at the _tete de pont_ of Churubusco;
Duncan and Smith, already veterans; Wright, the leader of the forlorn
hope, joyfully thinking of the morrow; famous Martin Scott, and
dauntless Graham, little dreaming that a few hours would see their livid
corpses stretched upon the plain; fierce old M'Intosh, covered with
scars; Worth himself, his manly brow clouded, and his cheek paled by
sickness and anxiety. Each officer had his place assigned to him in the
conflict; and they parted to seek a few hours' rest.

At half-past two on the morning of the 8th the division was astir. 'Twas
a bright starlight night whose silence was unbroken as the troops moved
thoughtfully toward the battlefield. In front, on the right, about a
mile from the encampment, the hewn-stone walls of the Molino del Rey--a
range of buildings five hundred yards long, and well adapted for
defence--were distinctly visible, with drowsy lights twinkling through
the windows. A little farther off, on the left, stood the black pile of
the Casa Mata, the arsenal, crenelled for musketry, and surrounded by a
quadrangular field work. Beyond the Casa Mata lay a ravine, and from
this a ditch and hedge ran, passing in front of both works, to the
Tacubaya road. Far on the right the grim old castle of Chapultepec
loomed up darkly against the sky. Sleep wrapped the whole Mexican line,
and but few words were spoken in the American ranks as the troops took
up their respective positions: Garland, with Dunn's battery and Huger's
24-pounders, on the right, against the Molino; Wright, at the head of
the stormers, and followed by the light division under Captain Kirby
Smith, in the centre; M'Intosh, with Duncan's battery, on the left, near
the ravine looking toward the Casa Mata; and Cadwallader, with his
brigade, in reserve.

Night still overhung the east when the Mexicans were roused from their
slumbers by the roar of Huger's 24-pounders, and the crashing of the
balls through the roof and walls of the Molino. A shout arose within
their lines, spreading from the ravine to the castle; lights flashed in
every direction, bugles sounded, the clank of arms rang from right to
left, and every man girded himself for the fray. With the first ray of
daylight Major Wright advanced with the forlorn hope down the slope. A
few seconds elapsed; then a sheet of flame burst from the batteries, and
round shot, canister, and grape hurtled through the air. "Charge!"
shouted the leader, and down they went, with double-quick step, over the
ditch and hedge, and into the line, sweeping everything before them. The
Mexicans fell from their guns, but soon, seeing the smallness of the
force opposed to them and reassured by the galling fire poured from the
_azoteas_ and Molino on the stormers, they rallied, charged furiously,
and drove our men back into the plain. Here eleven out of the fourteen
officers of Wright's party, and the bulk of his men, fell killed or
wounded. All of the latter who could not fly were bayoneted where they
lay by the Mexicans.

Captain Walker, of the Sixth, badly shot, was left for dead; he saw the
enemy murdering every man who showed signs of life, but the agony of
thirst was so insupportable that he could not resist raising his canteen
to his lips. A dozen balls instantly tore up the ground around him;
several Mexicans rushed at him with the bayonet, but at that moment the
light division, under Kirby Smith, came charging over the ditch into the
Mexican line and diverted their attention.

Garland meanwhile moved down rapidly on the right with Dunn's guns,
which were drawn by hand, all the horses having been wounded and become
unmanageable. These soon opened an enfilading fire on the Mexican
battery; and some of the gunners flying, the light division charged,
under a hot fire, and carried the guns for the second time. Their
gallant leader was shot dead in the charge. But the enemy could afford
to lose the battery. From the tops of the _azoteas_, from the Casa Mata
and the Molino, a deadly shower of balls was rained crosswise upon the
assailants. Part of the reserve was brought up; and Dunn's guns and the
Mexican battery were served upon the buildings without much effect at
first. Lieutenant-Colonel Graham led a party of the Eleventh against the
latter; when within pistol-shot a terrific volley assailed him, wounding
him in ten places. The gallant soldier quietly dismounted, pointed with
his sword to the building, cried "Charge!" and sank dead on the field.

As fiercely raged the battle at the other wing where Duncan and M'Intosh
had driven in the enemy's right toward the Casa Mata. M'Intosh started
to storm that fort, and, in the teeth of a tremendous hail of musketry,
advanced to the ditch, only twenty-five yards from the work. There a
ball knocked him down; it was his luck to be shot or bayoneted in every
battle. Martin Scott took the command, but as he ordered the men forward
he rolled lifeless into the ditch. Major Waite, the next in rank, had
hardly seen him fall before he too was disabled. By whole companies the
men were mowed down by the Mexican shot; but they stood their ground. At
length some one gave the word to fall back, and the remnants of the
brigade obeyed. Many wounded were left on the ground; among others
Lieutenant Burnell, shot in the leg, whom the Mexicans murdered when his
comrades abandoned him. After the battle his body was found, and beside
it his dog, moaning piteously and licking his dead master's face.

At the head of four thousand cavalry, Alvarez now menaced our left.
Duncan watched them come, driving a cloud of dust before them, till they
were within close range; then opening with his wonderful rapidity, he
shattered whole platoons at a discharge. Worth sent him word to be sure
to keep the lancers in check. "Tell General Worth," was his reply, "to
make himself perfectly easy; I can whip twenty thousand of them." So far
as Alvarez was concerned, he kept his word.

On the American right the fight had reached a crisis. Mixed confusedly
together, men of all arms furiously attacked the Molino, firing into
every aperture, climbing to the roof, and striving to batter in the
doors and gates with their muskets. The garrison never slackened their
terrible fire for an instant. At length Major Buchanan, of the Fourth,
succeeded in bursting open the southern gate; and almost at the same
moment Anderson and Ayres, of the artillery, forced their way into the
buildings at the northwestern angle. Ayres leaped down alone into a
crowd of Mexicans--he had done the same at Monterey--and fell covered
with wounds. Our men rushed in on both sides, stabbing, firing, and
felling the Mexicans with their muskets. From room to room and house to
house a hand-to-hand encounter was kept up. Here a stalwart Mexican
hurled down man after man as they advanced; there Buchanan and the
Fourth levelled all before them. But the Mexicans never withstood the
cold steel. One by one the defenders escaped by the rear toward
Chapultepec, and those who remained hung out a white flag. Under
Duncan's fire the Casa Mata had been evacuated, and the enemy was
everywhere in full retreat. Twice he rallied and charged the Molino; but
each time the artillery drove him back toward Chapultepec, and parties
of the light infantry pursued him down the road. Before ten in the
morning the whole field was won; and, having blown up the Casa Mata,
Worth, by Scott's order, fell back to Tacubaya.

With gloomy face and averted eye the gallant soldier received the thanks
of his chief for the exploits of the morning. His heart was with the
brave men he had lost--nearly eight hundred out of less than thirty-five
hundred and among them fifty-eight officers, many of whom were his
dearest friends. All had fallen in advance of their men, with sword in
hand and noble words on their lips. 'Twas a poor price for these to have
stormed Molino del Rey, and cut down nearly a fifth of Santa Anna's
fourteen thousand men. Sadly the General returned to his quarters.

The end was now close at hand. Reconnoissances were carefully made, and,
the enemy's strength being gathered on the southern front of the city,
General Scott determined to assail Chapultepec on the west. By the
morning of the 12th the batteries were completed, and opened a brisk
fire on the castle, without, however, doing any more serious damage than
annoying the garrison and killing a few men. The fire was kept up all
day; and at night preparations were made for the assault, which was
ordered to be made next morning.

At daybreak on the 13th the cannonade began again, as well from the
batteries planted against Chapultepec as from Steptoe's guns, which were
served against the southern defences of the city in order to divert the
attention of the enemy. At 8 A.M. the firing from the former ceased, and
the attack commenced. Quitman advanced along the Tacubaya road, Pillow
from the Molino del Rey, which he had occupied on the evening before.
Between the Molino and the castle lay first an open space, then a grove
thickly planted with trees; in the latter, Mexican sharpshooters had
been posted, protected by an intrenchment on the border of the grove.
Pillow sent Lieutenant-Colonel Johnston with a party of _voltigeurs_ to
turn this work by a flank movement; it was handsomely accomplished; and
just as the _voltigeurs_ broke through the redan, Pillow, with the main
body, charged it in front and drove back the Mexicans. The grove gained,
Pillow pressed forward to the front of the rock; for the Mexican shot
from the castle batteries, crashing through the trees, seemed even more
terrible than it really was, and the troops were becoming restless.

The Mexicans had retreated to a redoubt half way up the hill; the
_voltigeurs_ sprang up from rock to rock, firing as they advanced, and
followed by Hooker, Chase, and others, with parties of infantry. In a
very few minutes the redoubt was gained, the garrison driven up the
hill, and the _voltigeurs_, Ninth, and Fifteenth were in hot pursuit
after them. The firing from the castle was very severe. Colonel Ransom,
of the Ninth, was killed, and Pillow himself was wounded. Still the
troops pressed on till the crest of the hill was gained. There some
moments were lost owing to the delay in the arrival of scaling-ladders,
during which two of Quitman's regiments and Clarke's brigade reenforced
the storming party. When the ladders came, numbers of men rushed forward
with them, leaped into the ditch, and planted them for the assault.

Lieutenant Selden was the first man to mount. But the Mexicans collected
all their energies for this last moment. A tremendous fire dashed the
foremost of the stormers into the ditch, killing Lieutenants Rogers and
Smith and clearing the ladders. Fresh men instantly manned them, and,
after a brief struggle, Captain Howard, of the _voltigeurs_, gained a
foothold on the parapet. M'Kenzie, of the forlorn hope, followed; and a
crowd of _voltigeurs_ and infantry, shouting and cheering, pressed after
him, and swept down upon the garrison with the bayonet. Almost at the
same moment, Johnston, of the _voltigeurs_, who had led a small party
round to the gate of the castle, broke it open and effected an entrance
in spite of a fierce fire from the southern walls. The two parties
uniting, a deadly conflict ensued within the building.

Maddened by the recollection of the murder of their wounded comrades at
Molino del Rey, the stormers at first showed no quarter. On every side
the Mexicans were stabbed or shot down without mercy. Many flung
themselves over the parapet and down the hillside and were dashed in
pieces against the rocks. More fought like fiends, expending their
breath in a malediction, and expiring in the act of aiming a treacherous
blow as they lay on the ground. Streams of blood flowed through the
doors of the college, and every room and passage was the theatre of some
deadly struggle. At length the officers succeeded in putting an end to
the carnage; and the remaining Mexicans having surrendered, the Stars
and Stripes were hoisted over the castle of Chapultepec by Major
Seymour.

Meanwhile Quitman had stormed the batteries on the causeway to the east
of the castle, after a desperate struggle in which Major Twiggs, who
commanded the stormers, was shot dead at the head of his men. The
Mexicans fell back toward the city. General Scott, coming up at this
moment, ordered a simultaneous advance to be made on the city, along the
two roads leading from Chapultepec to the gates of San Cosme and Belen,
respectively. Worth was to command that on San Cosme, Quitman that on
Belen. Both were prepared for defence by barricades, behind which the
enemy were posted in great numbers. Fortunately for the assailants an
aqueduct, supported by arches of solid masonry, ran along the centre of
each causeway. By keeping under cover of these arches, and springing
rapidly from one to another, Smith's rifles and the South Carolina
regiment were enabled to advance close to the first barricade on the
Belen road, and pour in a destructive fire on the gunners. A flank
discharge from Duncan's guns completed the work; the barricade was
carried; and without a moment's rest Quitman advanced in the same manner
on the _garita_ San Belen, which was held by General Torres with a
strong garrison.

It too was stormed, though under a fearful hail of grape and canister;
and the rifles moved forward toward the citadel. But at this moment
Santa Anna rode furiously down to the point of attack. Boiling with rage
at the success of the invaders, he smote General Torres in the face,
threw a host of infantry into the houses commanding the _garita_ and the
road, ordered the batteries in the citadel to open fire, planted fresh
guns on the Paseo, and infused such spirit into the Mexicans that
Quitman's advance was stopped at once. A terrific storm of shot, shell,
and grape assailed the _garita_, where Captain Dunn had planted an
8-pounder. Twice the gunners were shot down, and fresh men sent to take
their places. Then Dunn himself fell, and immediately afterward
Lieutenant Benjamin and his first sergeant met the same fate. The
riflemen in the arches repelled sallies; but Quitman's position was
precarious, till night terminated the conflict.

Worth meanwhile had advanced in like manner along the San Cosme
causeway, driving the Mexicans from barricade to barricade, till within
two hundred fifty yards of the _garita_ of San Cosme. There he
encountered as severe a fire as that which stopped Quitman. But Scott
had ordered him to take the _garita_, and take it he would. Throwing
Garland's brigade out to the right and Clarke's to the left, he ordered
them to break into the houses, burst through the walls, and bore their
way to the flanks of the _garita_. The plan had succeeded perfectly at
Monterey, nor did it fail here. Slowly but surely the sappers passed
from house to house, until at sunset they reached the point desired.
Then Worth ordered the attack. Lieutenant Hunt brought up a light gun at
a gallop, and fired it through the embrasure of the enemy's battery,
almost muzzle to muzzle; the infantry at the same moment opened a most
deadly and unexpected fire from the roofs of the houses, and M'Kenzie,
at the head of the stormers, dashed at the battery and carried it almost
without loss. The Mexicans fled precipitately into the city.

At one that night two parties left the citadel and issued forth from the
city. One was the remnant of the Mexican army, which slunk silently and
noiselessly through the northern gate, and fled to Guadalupe-Hidalgo;
the other was a body of officers who came under a white flag, to propose
terms of capitulation.

The sun shone brightly on the morning of September 14th. Scores of
neutral flags float from the windows on the Calle de Plateros, and in
their shade beautiful women gaze curiously on the scene beneath. Gayly
dressed groups throng the balconies, and at the street-corners
dark-faced men scowl, mutter deep curses, and clutch their knives. The
street resounds with the heavy tramp of infantry, the rattle of
gun-carriages, and the clatter of horses' hoofs. "_Los Yanquies_!" is
the cry, and every neck is stretched to obtain a glimpse of the six
thousand bemired and begrimed soldiers who are marching proudly to the
Grand Plaza. On him especially is every eye intently fixed, whose
martial form is half concealed by a splendid staff and a squadron of
dragoons, as he rides, with flashing eye and beating heart, to the
National Palace of Mexico. But six months before, Winfield Scott had
landed on the Mexican coast; since then he had stormed the two strongest
places in the country, won four battles in the field against armies
double, treble, and quadruple his own, and marched without reverse from
Vera Cruz to the City of Mexico; losing fewer men, making fewer
mistakes, and creating less devastation, in proportion to his victories,
than any invading general of former times. Well might the Mexicans gaze
upon his face!




(1847) FAMINE IN IRELAND, Sir Charles Gavan Duffy


From the fact that its immediate cause was the almost complete failure
of the potato crop, due to the rot, the great Irish famine is known as
the "potato famine." The crop that suffered so was that of 1845, and the
famine began in the following year and reached its climax in 1847. It is
estimated that by this calamity two hundred thousand persons perished.
Many compensating features in connection with this appalling distress
have been pointed out. Some writers friendly toward Ireland have
declared that the famine proved one of the greatest blessings to the
country; that it hastened free trade, better drainage of the island, and
the passage of the Land Improvement Act; that it relieved the
overcrowded labor market, led to more scientific farming, and in other
ways produced changes that have been of lasting benefit. But though all
this be true, the misfortune itself gave to modern history one of its
most harrowing chapters.

The population of Ireland in 1845 is supposed to have been nearly nine
millions. The manufactures were small, and the people depended on the
potato crop, and had no other resource in time of scarcity. For several
years the potato yield had been abundant, the country was comparatively
prosperous, and the temperance movement led by Father Mathew promised a
happier future. A great harvest was expected in 1845, but almost at a
single stroke this expectation was blasted; for although the crop was
large the greater part of it was destroyed in the ground, and the
potatoes that were gathered "rotted in pit and storehouse." The farmers
taxed all their means and energies to secure even a larger crop in 1846,
but the blight of that year was even more fatal than the last. To
pinching want was added discouragement, and the people sat in the shadow
of a frightful catastrophe. In vain the British Government was called
upon to give relief through Parliament, until, in the autumn of 1846,
parliamentary authority was obtained to grant baronial loans. But these
and every local endeavor to mitigate the suffering failed, and the
destructive work of the famine continued, the number of victims
increasing, to the end of that fatal year. The horrors of 1846 were more
than equalled by those of the year that followed, and the woful picture
presented by Sir Charles Gavan Duffy, the distinguished Irish patriot,
statesman, and historian, is but too amply justified by the accepted
records of the time.

The condition of Ireland at the opening of the year 1847 is one of the
most painful chapters in the annals of mankind. An industrious and
hospitable race were in the pangs of a devouring famine. Deaths of
individuals, of husband and wife, of entire families, were becoming
common. The potato-blight had spread from the Atlantic to the Caspian;
but there was more suffering in one parish of Mayo than in all the rest
of Europe. From Connaught, where distress was greatest, came batches of
inquests with the horrible verdict "died of starvation." In some
instances the victims were buried "wrapped in a coarse coverlet," a
coffin being too costly a luxury. The living awaited death with a
listlessness that was at once tragic and revolting. Women with dead
children in their arms were seen begging for a coffin to bury them.

Beranger has touched a thousand hearts by the picture of _Pauvre
Jacques_, who, when the tax-gatherer came in the King's name, was
discovered dead on his miserable pallet. But at Skibbereen, in the
fruitful County Cork whose seaports were thronged with vessels laden
with corn, cattle, and butter for England, the rate collector told a
more tragic tale. Some houses he found deserted; the owners had been
carried to their graves. In one cabin there was no other occupant than
three corpses; in a once prosperous home a woman and her children had
lain dead and unburied for a week; in the fields a man was discovered so
fearfully mangled by dogs that identification was impossible. The relief
committee of the Society of Friends described the state of the town in
language which it was hard to read with dry eyes. The people were dying
of the unaccustomed food which mocked their prayer for daily bread, and
were carried to the graveyard in a coffin from which the benevolent
strangers who had come to their relief had to drop them, like dead dogs,
that there might be a covering for the next corpse in its turn.

"This place is one mass of famine, disease, and death. The poor
creatures, hitherto trying to exist on one meal a day, are now sinking
under fever and bowel complaints, unable to come for their soup, which
is not fit for them. Rice is what their whole cry is for, but we cannot
manage this well, nor can we get the food carried to the houses, from
dread of infection. I have got a coffin constructed with movable sides,
to convey the bodies to the churchyard, in calico bags prepared, in
which the remains are wrapped up. I have just sent it to bring the
remains of a poor creature to the grave, who having been turned out of
the only shelter she had, a miserable hut, perished the night before
last in a quarry."

The people saw the harvest they had reared carried away to another
country without an effort, for the most part, to retain it. The sole
food of the distressed class was Indian-meal, which had paid freight and
storage in England, and had been obtained in exchange for English
manufactures. Under a recent law a peasant who accepted public relief
forfeited his holding, and thousands were ejected under this cruel
provision. But landowners were not content with one process alone; they
closed on the people with ejectments, turned them out on the roads, and
plucked down their rooftrees. In more than one county rents falling due
in November for land that no longer yielded food to the cultivator, were
enforced in January. In the southwest the peasantry had made some
frantic efforts to clutch their harvest and to retaliate for their
sufferings in blind vengeance, but the law carried a sharp sword. Eight
counties, or parts of counties, were proclaimed, and a special
commission, after a brief sitting in Clare and Limerick, left eleven
peasants for the gallows. Chief Justice Blackburn took occasion to note
that "The state of things in 1847 was exactly that described by an act
passed in 1776." The disease was permanent, so were the symptoms. One
well-head of Irish discontent was English prejudice, which refuses to
listen to any complaint till it threatens to become dangerous.

It was a fearful time for men who loved their country, not only with
deep affection, but with a wise and forecasting interest. A revolution
of the worst type was in progress. Not the present alone, but the
future, was being laid waste. The marvellous reform accomplished by
Father Mathew, the self-reliance which had grown up in the era of
monster meetings, and the moral teachings of Davis and his friends were
being fast swallowed up by this calamity. The youth and manhood of the
middle classes were scrambling for pauper places from the Board of
Works, and the peasants were being transformed into mendicants by
process of law. These calamities, related of a distant and savage tribe,
would move a generous heart; but seeing them befall our own people, the
children of the same mother, and foreseeing all the black, unfathomable
misery they foreshadowed, it was hard to preserve the sober rule of
reason.

The gentry, who were responsible in the first place for the protection
of the people from whom they drew their income, insisted that the
calamity was an imperial one and ought to be borne out of the exchequer
of the empire. It was an equitable claim. If there was no irresistible
title of brotherhood, at lowest the stronger nation had snatched away
from the weaker the power of helping itself, and still drew away during
this terrible era half a million pounds every month in the shape of
absentee rents. The demand was put aside contemptuously. The claim of
the Nationalists to reenter on the management of their own affairs,
since it was plain England could not manage them successfully, was
treated as sedition. We were proffered, instead of our own resources,
which were ample--

  "Alms from scornful hands, to hands in chains,
   Bitterer to taste than death."

All the nations of the earth were appealed to and they gave generously;
but the result was far from being proportionate to the need. During the
year 1846 the contributions fell short of two thousand pounds a week.
And it was not forgotten that after the great fire of London, when the
citizens were in deep distress, the Irish contributed twenty thousand
fat cattle for their relief, which at their present value would amount
to a sum greater than England and Europe sent to the aid of Ireland in
1846.

To lie down and die, like cattle in a murrain, was base. No people are
bound to starve while their soil produces food cultivated by their own
hands. No other people in Europe would have submitted to such a fate.
But the leader whom they were accustomed to follow had involved himself
in a tangle of false doctrines by his unhappy "Peace Resolutions," and
he exhorted them to endure all with patience and submission. His son had
the amazing assurance to add that if they starved with complete
resignation the repeal of the union was near at hand.

On the relief committees, doctors, clergymen, and country gentlemen bore
the burden of the work, but a multitude of the gentry stood apart as if
the transaction did not concern them. They were busy in transferring the
harvest to England or clearing the population off their estates. The
English officials in Ireland accused them of jobbing in public works, or
quartering their relations and dependents on the Relief Fund, as
overseers, and, in some extreme cases, of obtaining grants for their own
families of money designed for the suffering poor on their estates. The
benevolence of the minority could not counterbalance these odious
offences, and deadly hatred was sown, which has since borne an abundant
harvest.

The state of the country grew worse from day to day. It is difficult now
to realize the condition of the western population in the autumn of
1847; but a witness of unexceptionable impartiality has painted it in
permanent colors. A young Englishman representing the Society of
Friends, who in that tragic time did work worthy of the Good Samaritan,
reported what he saw in Mayo and Galway in language which for plain
vigor rivals the narratives of Defoe. This is what he saw in Westport:

"The town of Westport was in itself a strange and fearful sight, like
what we read of in beleaguered cities; its streets crowded with gaunt
wanderers, sauntering to and fro with hopeless air and hunger-stricken
look; a mob of starved, almost naked women around the poorhouse
clamoring for soup tickets; our inn, the headquarters of the
road-engineer and pay-clerks, beset by a crowd begging for work."

As he approached Galway, the rural population were found to be in a more
miserable condition: "Some of the women and children that we saw on the
road were abject cases of poverty and almost naked. The few rags they
had on were with the greatest difficulty held together, and in a few
weeks, as they are utterly unable to provide themselves with fresh
clothes unless they be given them, they must become absolutely naked."
And in another district: "As we went along our wonder was not that the
people died, but that they lived; and I have no doubt whatever that in
any other country the mortality would have been far greater; that many
lives have been prolonged, perhaps saved, by the long apprenticeship to
want in which the Irish peasant has been trained, and by that lovely,
touching charity which prompts him to share his scanty meal with his
starving neighbor."

The fishermen of the Cladagh, who were induced to send the Whig
Attorney-General to Parliament a few months before, had to pledge the
implements of their calling for a little daily bread. "Even the very
nets and tackle of these poor fishermen, I heard, were pawned, and,
unless they be assisted to redeem them, they will be unable to take
advantage of the herring shoals, even when they approach their coast. In
order to ascertain the truth of this statement, I went into two or three
of the largest pawnshops, the owners of which fully confirmed it and
said they had in pledge at least a thousand pounds' worth of such
property and saw no likelihood of its being redeemed."

In a rural district which he revisited after an interval, he paints a
scene which can scarcely be matched in the annals of a mediaeval plague:
"One poor woman whose cabin I visited said, 'There will be nothing for
us but to lie down and die.' I tried to give her hope of English aid,
but alas! her prophecy has been too true. Out of a population of two
hundred forty I found thirteen already dead from want. The survivors
were like walking skeletons; the men gaunt and haggard, stamped with the
livid mark of hunger; the children crying with pain; the women in some
of the cabins too weak to stand. When there before I had seen cows at
almost every cabin, and there were besides many sheep and pigs owned in
the village. But now all the sheep were gone, all the cows, all the
poultry killed, only one pig left; the very dogs which had barked at me
before had disappeared; no potatoes; no oats."

The young man pointed the moral, which these horrible spectacles
suggested, with laudable courage: "I would not now discuss the causes of
this condition, nor attempt to apportion blame to its authors; but of
this one fact there can be no question: that the result of our social
system is that vast numbers of our fellow-countrymen--of the peasantry
of one of the richest nations the world ever knew--have not leave to
live. Surely such a social result as this is not only a national
misfortune but a national sin crying loudly to every Christian citizen
to do his utmost to remove it. No one of us can have a right to enjoy
either riches or repose until to the extent of his ability he strive to
wash himself of all share in the guilt of this fearful inequality, which
will be a blot in the history of our country and make her a byword among
the nations."

The weekly returns of the dead were like the bulletins of a fierce
campaign. As the end of the year approached, villages and rural
districts, which had been prosperous and populous a year before, were
desolate. In some places the loss amounted to half the resident
population. Even the poorhouses shut up, and paupers did not escape.
More than one in six perished of the unaccustomed food. The people did
not everywhere consent to die patiently. In Armagh and Down groups of
men went from house to house in the rural districts and insisted on
being fed. In Tipperary and Waterford corn stores and bakers' shops were
sacked. In Donegal the people seized upon a flour-mill and pillaged it.
In Limerick five thousand men assembled on Tory Hill and declared that
they would not starve. A local clergyman restrained them by the promise
of speedy relief. "If the Government did not act promptly, he himself
would show them where food could be had." In a few cases crops were
carried away from farms.

The offences which spring from suffering and fear were heard of in many
districts, but they were encountered with instant resistance. There were
thirty thousand men in red jackets, carefully fed, clothed, and lodged,
ready to maintain the law. Four prisoners were convicted at the Galway
assizes of stealing a filly, which they killed and ate to preserve their
own lives. In Enniskillen two boys under twelve years of age were
convicted of stealing one pint of Indian-meal cooked into "stirabout,"
and Chief Justice Blackburn vindicated the outraged law by transporting
them for seven years. Other children committed larcenies that they might
be sent to jail where there was still daily bread to be had. In Mayo the
people were eating carrion wherever it could be procured, and the
coroner could not keep pace with the inquests; for the law sometimes
spent more to ascertain the cause of a pauper's death than would suffice
to preserve his life.

The social disorganization was a spectacle as afflicting as the waste of
life; it was the waste of whatever makes life worth possessing. All the
institutions which civilize and elevate the people were disappearing,
one after another. The churches were half empty; the temperance
reading-rooms were shut up; the Mechanics' Institute no longer got
support; only the jails and the poorhouses were crowded. A new
generation, born in disease and reared in destitution, pitiless and
imbecile, threatened to drag down the nation to hopeless slavery. Trade
was paralyzed; no one bought anything which was not indispensable at the
hour. The loss of the farmers in potatoes was estimated at more than
twenty millions sterling; and with the potatoes the pigs, which fed on
them, disappeared. The seed, procured at a high price in spring, again
failed; time, money, and labor were lost, and another year of famine was
certain. All who depended on the farmer had sunk with him; shopkeepers
were beggared; tradesmen were starving; the priests living on voluntary
offerings were sometimes in fearful distress when the people had no
longer anything to offer.

The poor-rate was quite inadequate to support the burden thrown upon it
by the suspension of public works, but there was another claim upon it
which could not wait. When the elections were over and the Government
majority secure, the Treasury called on the poor-law guardians to levy
immediately a special rate for the repayment of a million and a quarter
lent by the State in a previous year. They were warned that, if they
refused, their boards would be dissolved and the rates levied by the
authority of the Commissioners. The guardians in many districts declared
that an additional rate could not be collected. All that could be got
would be too little to support the distressed class. But the Treasury
would listen to no excuse, and a dozen boards were dissolved and paid
guardians put in their place. The Treasury had lent seven millions
sterling in 1846; five millions of it had been spent in making roads
which were not needed nor desired, and one million was diverted from the
wages fund to purchase land for this experiment. The aid which the
stronger country proposed to give to the weaker, from the Treasury to
which both contributed, was the remission of one-third of this debt. A
blunder in foreign policy, the escapade of an ambitious minister in
India or Africa, has cost the British taxpayer more in a month than he
spent to save millions of fellow-subjects beyond the Irish Sea.

When the increased mortality was pressed on the attention of the
Government, Lord John Russell replied that the owners of property in
Ireland ought to support the poor born on their estates. It was a
perfectly just proposition if the ratepayers were empowered to determine
the object and method of the expenditure; but prohibiting productive
work, and forcing them to turn strong men into paupers and keep them
sweltering in workhouses instead of laboring to reclaim the waste
lands--this was not justice. The _Times_, commenting on the new policy,
declared that Ireland was as well able to help herself as France or
Belgium, and that the whole earth was doing duty for inhuman Irish
landlords. An unanswerable case, if Ireland, like France and Belgium,
had the power of collecting and applying her own revenue; otherwise not
difficult to answer.

The people fled before the famine to England, America, and the British
colonies. They carried with them the seed of disease and death. In
England a bishop and more than twenty priests died of typhus, caught in
attendance on the sick and dying. The English people clamored against
such an infliction, which it cannot be denied would be altogether
intolerable if these fugitives were not made exiles and paupers by
English law. They were ordered home again, that they might be supported
on the resources of their own country; for though we had no country for
the purpose of self-government and self-protection, we were acknowledged
to have a country when the necessity of bearing burdens arose.

More than a hundred thousand souls fled to the United States and Canada.
The United States maintained sanitary regulations on shipboard which
were effectual to a certain extent. But the emigration to Canada was
left to the individual greed of shipowners, and the emigrant-ships
rivalled the cabins of Mayo or the fever-sheds of Skibbereen. Crowded
and filthy, carrying double the legal number of passengers, who were
ill-fed and imperfectly clothed, and having no doctor on board, the
holds, says an eyewitness, were like the Black Hole of Calcutta, and
deaths occurred in myriads. The survivors, on their arrival in the new
country, continued to die and to scatter death around them.

At Montreal, during nine weeks, eight hundred emigrants perished, and
over nine hundred residents died of diseases caught from emigrants.
During six months the deaths of the new arrivals exceeded three
thousand. No preparations were made by the British Government for the
reception or the employment of these helpless multitudes. The _Times_
pronounced the neglect to be an eternal disgrace to the British name.
Ships carrying German emigrants and English emigrants arrived in Canada
at the same time in a perfectly healthy state. The Chief Secretary for
Ireland was able to inform the House of Commons that of a hundred
thousand Irishmen who fled to Canada in a year, six thousand one hundred
perished on the voyage, four thousand one hundred on their arrival, five
thousand two hundred in the hospitals, and one thousand nine hundred in
the towns to which they repaired. The Emigrant Society of Montreal
paints the result during the whole period of the famine in language not
easily to be forgotten:

"From Grosse Island up to Port Sarnia, along the borders of our great
river, on the shores of Lakes Ontario and Erie, wherever the tide of
immigration has extended are to be found one unbroken chain of graves
where repose fathers and mothers, sisters and brothers, in a commingled
heap--no stone marking the spot. Twenty thousand and upward have gone
down to their graves!"

This was the fate which was befalling our race at home and abroad as the
year 1847 closed. There were not many of us who would not have given our
lives cheerfully to arrest this ruin, if we could only see a possible
way--but no way was visible.




(1848) MIGRATIONS OF THE MORMONS, Thomas L. Kane


Among the numerous religious bodies that have grown up in the United
States, the sect of Mormons, officially called "The Church of Jesus
Christ of Latter-day Saints," is perhaps the most unique in its origin
and organization, and the most singular in its history. The sect was
founded in 1830 by Joseph Smith, of Vermont. He declared that he had
discovered one of its authoritative writings, the _Book of Mormon_, at
Cumorah, New York. This book, he said, was found by him buried in the
earth at a place revealed to him by an angel. According to the Mormons,
the book, written in mystic characters on golden plates, is a record of
certain ancient people---"the long-lost tribes of Israel," Smith
declared--inhabiting North America. This book is said to have been
abridged by the prophet Mormon, and translated by Smith. By anti-Mormons
it is supposed to be based on a manuscript romance written by Solomon
Spaulding.

The Mormon Church is governed by a hierarchy with two orders of
priesthood, a president, two counsellors, twelve apostles, and elders
and other officers. Peculiar as their polity appears, it has proved
remarkably successful in the development of their church and community,
notwithstanding stern hostility and widespread disapproval. They present
an impressive example of shrewdness, thrift, and administrative skill,
resulting in great material prosperity. Besides their separate books,
they accept the Bible as authoritative, and many of their doctrines and
rites resemble those common to the Christian sects. More than anything
else, their teaching and their practice of polygamy have brought them
into collision with "Gentiles" and with the United States Government.

The first Mormon settlement was at Kirtland, Ohio, the next was in
Missouri. From those States they were expelled, and in 1840 they founded
Nauvoo in Illinois. Their later experience, up to their permanent
establishment in Utah, is recounted in the following narrative of the
hardships endured and surmounted by this extraordinary people. But it
should be added that the cause of the exodus was not, as is generally
supposed, religious persecution. The leaders of the sect at Nauvoo had
set up a bank without capital and passed thousands of its worthless
notes upon the unsuspecting farmers and traders; and it was this and
other crimes that exasperated the inhabitants of that region to the
point of driving away the whole community of Mormons.

Once, while ascending the upper Mississippi in the autumn, when its
waters were low, I was compelled to travel by land past the region of
the rapids. My road lay through the "Half-Breed Tract," a fine section
of Iowa, which the unsettled state of its land titles had appropriated
as a sanctuary for coiners, horse thieves, and other outlaws. I had left
my steamer at Keokuk, at the foot of the Lower Fall, to hire a carriage,
and to contend for some fragments of a dirty meal with the swarming
flies, the only scavengers of the locality. From this place to where the
deep water of the river returns, my eye wearied to see everywhere
sordid, vagabond, and idle settlers, and a country marred, without being
improved, by their careless hands.

I was descending the last hillside upon my journey, when a landscape in
delightful contrast broke upon my view. Half encircled by a bend of the
river, a beautiful city lay glittering in the fresh morning sun; its
bright new dwellings set in cool green gardens ranging up around a
stately dome-shaped hill which was crowned by a noble marble edifice
whose high tapering spire was radiant with white and gold. The city
appeared to cover several miles; and beyond it, in the background,
spread a fair rolling country, checkered by symmetrical lines of
fruitful husbandry. The unmistakable evidences of industry, enterprise,
and educated wealth, everywhere, made the scene one of singular and most
striking beauty.

It was a natural impulse to visit this inviting region. I procured a
skiff and rowing across the river landed at the principal wharf of the
city. No one met me there. I looked, and saw no one: I heard no
movement: though the stillness everywhere was such that I heard the
flies buzz, and the ripples break against the shallows of the beach. I
walked through the solitary streets. The town lay as in a dream, under
some deadening spell of loneliness from which I almost feared to wake
it. Plainly it had not slept long. There was no grass growing in the
paved ways and rain had not washed away the prints of footsteps in the
dust. Yet I went about unchecked. I went into empty ropewalks,
workshops, and smithies. The spinner's wheel was idle; the carpenter had
gone from his workbench and left his sash and casing unfinished. Fresh
bark was in the tanner's vat, and the fresh chopped lightwood stood
piled against the baker's oven. The blacksmith's shop was cold; but his
coal-heap and ladling-pool and crooked water-horn were all there, as if
he had just gone off for a holiday. No workpeople, anywhere, looked to
know my errand. If I went into the gardens, clinking the wicket latch
loudly after me, to pull the marigolds, heartsease, and lady's-slippers,
and draw a drink with the water-sodden well-bucket and its noisy chain;
or, knocking off with my stick the tall, heavy-headed dahlias and
sunflowers, hunting among the beds for cucumbers and love-apples--no one
called out to me from any opened window; no dog sprang forward to bark
an alarm. I could have supposed the people hidden in the houses, but the
doors were unfastened; and when at last I timidly entered, I found dead
ashes cold upon the hearth, and had to tread on tiptoe, as if walking
down the aisle of a country church, to avoid rousing irreverent echoes
from the naked floors.

On the outskirts of the town was the city graveyard. But there was no
record of plague there, nor did it in any wise differ much from other
Protestant American cemeteries. Some of the mounds were not long sodded;
some of the stones were newly set, their dates recent, and their black
inscriptions glossy in the hardly dried lettering-ink. Beyond the
graveyard, out in the fields, I saw, in one spot hard by where the
fruited boughs of a young orchard had been torn down, the still
smoldering embers of a barbecue fire that had been constructed of rails
from the fencing around it. It was the latest sign of life there. Fields
upon fields of heavy-headed grain lay rotting ungathered upon the
ground. No one was at hand to take in their rich harvest. As far as the
eye could reach, they stretched away--they, sleeping too in the hazy air
of autumn.

Only two portions of the city seemed to suggest the import of this
mysterious solitude. In the southern suburb the houses looking out upon
the country showed, by their splintered woodwork and walls battered to
the foundation, that they had lately been the mark of a destructive
cannonade. And in and around the splendid temple, which had been the
chief object of my admiration, armed men were barracked, surrounded by
their stacks of musketry and pieces of heavy ordnance. These challenged
me to render an account of myself, and to tell the reason why I had had
the temerity to cross the water without a written permit from a leader
of their band.

Though these men were generally more or less under the influence of
ardent spirits, after I had explained myself as a passing stranger they
seemed anxious to gain my good opinion. They told me the story of the
"dead city": that it had been a notable manufacturing and commercial
mart, sheltering over twenty thousand persons; that they had waged war
with its inhabitants for several years, and had been finally successful
only a few days before my visit, in an action fought in the ruined
suburb; after which, they had driven them forth at the point of the
sword. The defence, they said, had been obstinate, but gave way on the
third day's bombardment.

They also conducted me inside the massive sculptured walls of the
curious temple, in which they said the banished inhabitants were
accustomed to celebrate the mystic rites of an unhallowed worship. They
particularly pointed out to me certain features of the building, which,
having been the peculiar objects of a former superstitious regard, they
had as matter of duty sedulously defiled and defaced. The reputed sites
of certain shrines they had thus particularly noticed, and various
sheltered chambers, in one of which was a deep well constructed, they
believed, with a dreadful design. Besides these, they led me to see a
large and deeply chiselled marble vase, or basin, supported upon twelve
oxen, also of marble and of life size, and of which they told some
romantic stories. They said the deluded persons, most of whom were
emigrants from a great distance, believed their deity countenanced their
reception here of a baptism of regeneration as proxies for whomsoever
they held in warm affection in the countries from which they had come:
that here parents "went into the water" for their lost children,
children for their parents, widows for their spouses, and young persons
for their lovers: that thus the great vase came to be associated with
all their most cherished memories, and was therefore the chief object of
all others in the building, upon which they bestowed the greatest degree
of their idolatrous affection. On this account, the victors had so
diligently desecrated it as to render the apartment in which it was
contained too noisome to abide in.

They permitted me also to ascend into the steeple to see where it had
been struck by lightning on the Sabbath before; and to look out, east
and south, on wasted farms--like those I had seen near the
city--extending till they were lost in the distance. Close to the scar
left by the thunderbolt were fragments of food, cruses of liquor and
broken drinking-vessels, with a bass-drum and a steamboat signal-bell,
of which, with pain, I learned the use.

It was after nightfall when I was ready to cross the river on my return.
The wind had freshened since sunset and, the water beating roughly into
my little boat, I headed higher up the stream than the point I had left
in the morning, and landed where a faint glimmering light invited me to
steer. Among the rushes--sheltered only by the darkness, without roof
between them and the sky--I came upon a crowd of several hundred human
creatures whom my movements roused from uneasy slumber.

Dreadful indeed was the suffering of these forsaken beings. Cowed and
cramped by cold and sunburn alternating as each weary day and night
dragged on, they were, almost all of them, the crippled victims of
disease. They were there because they had no homes, nor hospital, nor
poorhouse, nor friends to offer them any. They could not minister to the
needs of their sick; they had no bread to quiet the fractious, hungry
cries of their children. Mothers and babes, daughters and grandparents,
all alike were clothed in tatters, lacking even sufficient covering for
the fever-stricken sufferers.

These were the Mormons, famishing, in Lee County, Iowa, in the fourth
week of the month of September, 1846. The deserted city was Nauvoo,
Illinois. The Mormons were the owners of that city and the smiling
country around it. And those who had stopped their ploughs, who had
silenced their hammers, their axes, their shuttles and the wheels of
their workshops; those who had put out their fires, who had eaten their
food, spoiled their orchards, and trampled under foot their thousands of
acres of unharvested grain--these were the keepers of their dwellings,
the carousers in their temple, the noise of whose drunken rioting
insulted the ears of the dying.

They were, all told, not more than six hundred forty persons who were
thus lying on the river-flats. But the Mormons in Nauvoo and its
environs had been numbered the year before at over twenty thousand.
Where were they? They had last been seen, carrying in mournful trains
their sick and wounded, halt and blind, to disappear behind the western
horizon, pursuing the phantom of another home. Hardly anything else was
known of them; and people asked with curiosity, "What had been their
fate--what their fortunes?"

The party encountered by me at the river shore were the last of the
Mormons that left the city. They had all of them engaged the year before
that they would vacate their homes and seek some other place of refuge.
It had been the condition of a truce between them and their assailants;
and, as an earnest of their good faith, the chief elders, and some
others of obnoxious standing, with their families, were to set out for
the West in the spring of 1846. It had been stipulated in return that
the rest of the Mormons might remain behind, in the peaceful enjoyment
of their Illinois abode, until their leaders, with their exploring
party, could, with all diligence, select for them a new place of
settlement beyond the Rocky Mountains, in California, or elsewhere, and
until they had opportunity to dispose to the best advantage of the
property which they were then to leave.

Some renewed symptoms of hostile feeling had however determined the
pioneer party to begin their work before the spring. It was of course
anticipated that this would be a perilous service; but it was regarded
as a matter of self-denying duty. The ardor and emulation of many,
particularly the devout and the young, were stimulated by the
difficulties it involved; and the ranks of the party were therefore
filled up with volunteers from among the most effective and responsible
members of the sect. They began their march in midwinter; and by the
beginning of February nearly all of them were on the road, many of their
wagons having crossed the Mississippi on the ice.

Under the most favoring circumstances, an expedition of this sort,
undertaken at such a season of the year, could scarcely fail to be
disastrous. But the pioneer company had to set out in haste, and were
very imperfectly supplied with necessaries. The cold was intense. They
moved in the teeth of keen-edged northwest winds, such as sweep down the
Iowa peninsula from the icebound regions of the timber-shaded Slave Lake
and Lake of the Woods. Along the scattered watercourses, where they
broke the thick ice to give their cattle drink, the annual autumn fires
had left but little firewood. To men, insufficiently furnished with
tents and other appliances of shelter, wood was almost a necessary of
life. After days of fatigue their nights were often passed in restless
efforts to prevent themselves from freezing. Their stock of food also
proved inadequate; and as their constitutions became more debilitated
their suffering from cold increased. Afflicted with catarrhal
affections, manacled by the fetters of dreadfully acute rheumatism, some
contrived for a while to get over the shortening day's march and drag
along some others. But the sign of an impaired circulation soon began to
show itself in the liability of all to be dreadfully frost-bitten. The
hardiest and strongest became helplessly crippled. About the same time
the strength of their draught animals began to fail. The small supply of
provender they could carry with them had given out. The winter-bleached
prairie straw proved devoid of nourishment; and they could only keep
them from starving by seeking for the "browse," as it is called, this
being the green bark and tender buds and branches of the cottonwood and
other stunted growths in the hollows.

To return to Nauvoo was apparently the only escape; but this would have
been to give occasion for fresh mistrust and so to bring new trouble to
those they had left there behind them. They resolved at least to hold
their ground, and to advance as they might, were it only by limping
through the deep snows a few slow miles a day. They found a sort of
comfort in comparing themselves to the exiles of Siberia, and sought
consolation in earnest prayers for the spring.

The spring came at last. It overtook them in the Sac and Fox country,
still on the naked prairie, not yet half way over the trail they were
following between the Mississippi and Missouri rivers. But it brought
its own share of troubles with it. The months with which it opened
proved nearly as trying as the worst of winter.

The snow and sleet and rain which fell, as it appeared to them, without
intermission, made the road over the rich prairie soil as impassable as
one vast bog of heavy black mud. Sometimes they would fasten the horses
and oxen of four or five wagons to one, and attempt to get ahead in this
way, taking turns; but at the close of a day of hard toil for themselves
and their cattle, they would find themselves a quarter or a half a mile
from the place they left in the morning. The heavy rains raised all the
watercourses; the most trifling streams were impassable. Wood, fit for
bridging, was often not to be had, and in such cases the only resource
was to halt for the freshets to subside--a matter in the case of the
headwaters of the Chariton, for instance, of over three weeks' delay.

These were dreary waitings upon Providence. The most spirited and sturdy
murmured most at their forced inactivity. And even the women, whose
heroic spirits had been proof against the severest cold, confessed their
tempers fluctuated with the ceaseless variations of the barometer. They
complained too that the health of their children suffered more. It was
the fact that the damp winds of March and April brought with them more
mortal sickness than the sharpest freezing weather.

The frequent burials discouraged and depressed the hardiest spirits; but
the general hopefulness of human nature was well illustrated by the fact
that even the most provident were found unfurnished with burial
necessaries, and as a result they were often driven to the most
melancholy makeshifts.

The usual expedient adopted was to cut a log of some eight or nine feet
long, and slitting the bark longitudinally, strip it off in two
half-cylinders. These, placed around the body of the deceased and bound
firmly together with withs made of alburnum, formed a rough sort of
tubular coffin, which surviving relatives and friends, with a little
show of black crape, could follow to the hole or bit of ditch dug to
receive it in the wet ground of the prairie. The name of the deceased,
his age, the date of his death, and the surrounding landmarks were all
registered with care. His party was then ready to move on. Such graves
mark all the line of the first years of Mormon travel--dispiriting
milestones to failing stragglers in the rear.

The hardships and trials which they had suffered developed a spirit of
self-sacrifice among these indomitable people. Hale young men gave up
their own food and shelter to the old and helpless, and worked their way
back to parts of the frontier States, chiefly Missouri and Iowa where
they were not recognized, and hired themselves out for wages, to
purchase more. Others were sent there to exchange for meal and flour, or
wheat and corn, the table-and bed-furniture and other remaining articles
of personal property which a few had still retained.

In a kindred spirit of fraternity, others laid out great farms in the
wilds and planted the grain saved for their own bread; that there might
be harvests for those who should follow them. Two of these, in the Sac
and Fox country and beyond it, Garden Grove and Mount Pisgah, included
within their fences about two miles of land each, carefully planted with
grain, with a hamlet of comfortable log cabins in the neighborhood of
each.

Through all this the pioneers found comfort in the thought that their
own suffering was the price of immunity from similar hardships their
friends at home, in following their trail, would otherwise have had to
pay. But the arrival of spring proved this a delusion. Before the warm
weather had made the earth dry enough for easy travel, messengers came
in from Nauvoo to overtake the party with fear-exaggerated tales of
outrage, and to urge the chief men to hurry back to the city that they
might give counsel and assistance there. The enemy had only waited until
the emigrants were supposed to be gone on their road too far to return
to interfere with them, and then renewed their aggressions.

The Mormons outside Nauvoo were indeed hard pressed, but inside the city
they maintained themselves very well for two or three months longer.
Strange to say, the chief part of this respite was devoted to completing
the structure of their quaintly devised but beautiful temple. Since the
dispersion of Jewry, probably, history affords us no parallel to the
attachment of the Mormons for this edifice. Every architectural element,
every most fantastic emblem it embodied, was associated, for them, with
some cherished feature of their religion. Its erection had been enjoined
upon them as a most sacred duty: they were proud of the honor it
conferred upon their city, when it grew up in its splendor to become the
chief object of the admiration of strangers upon the upper Mississippi.
Besides, they had built it as a labor of love; they could count up to
half a million the value of their tithings and freewill offerings laid
upon it. Hardly a Mormon woman had not given up to it some trinket or
pin-money; the poorest Mormon man had at least served the tenth part of
his year on its walls; and the coarsest artisan could turn to it with
something of the ennobling attachment an artist has for his own
creation.

Therefore, though their enemies drove on them ruthlessly, they succeeded
in parrying the last sword-thrust, till they had completed even the
gilding of the angel and trumpet on the summit of its lofty spire. As a
closing work, they placed on the entablature of the front, like a
baptismal mark on the forehead, these words:

  THE HOUSE OF THE LORD:

  BUILT BY THE CHURCH OF JESUS CHRIST OF LATTER-DAY SAINTS.

  HOLINESS TO THE LORD!

Then, at high noon, under the bright sunshine of May, the next after its
completion, they consecrated it to divine service. There was a carefully
studied ceremonial for the occasion. It was said the high elders of the
sect travelled furtively from the camp of Israel in the wilderness, and,
throwing off ingenious disguises, appeared in their own robes of office
to give it splendor.

For that one day the temple stood resplendent in all its typical glories
of sun, moon and stars, and other abounding figured and lettered signs,
hieroglyphs, and symbols; but that day only. The sacred rites of
consecration ended, the work of removing the _sacrosancta_ proceeded
with the rapidity of magic. It went on through the night, and when the
morning of the next day dawned all the ornaments and furniture,
everything that could provoke a sneer, had been carried off; and except
some fixtures that would not bear removal, the building was dismantled.

This day saw the departure of the last of the elders, and the largest
band that moved in one company together. The people of Iowa have told me
that from morning to night they passed westward like an endless
procession. They did not seem greatly out of heart, they said; but, at
the top of every hill, before they disappeared, they were to be seen
looking back, like banished Moors, on their abandoned homes and the
distant temple and its glittering spire.

After this consecration, which was construed to indicate an insincerity
on the part of the Mormons as to their stipulated departure, or at least
a hope of return, their foes set upon them with renewed bitterness. As
many fled as were at all prepared; but by the very fact of their so
decreasing the already diminished forces of the city's defenders, they
encouraged the enemy to greater boldness. It soon became apparent that
nothing short of an immediate emigration could save the remnant.

From this time onward the energies of those already on the road were
engrossed by the duty of providing for the fugitives who came crowding
in after them. At a last general meeting of the sect in Nauvoo, there
had been passed a unanimous resolution that they would sustain one
another, whatever their circumstances, upon the march; and this, though
made in view of no such appalling exigency, they now with one accord set
themselves together to carry out.

The host again moved on. The tents which had gathered on the hill
summits, like white birds hesitating to venture on the long flight over
the river, were struck one after another, and the dwellers in them and
their wagons and their cattle hastened down to cross it at a ferry in
the valley, which they made by night and day. A little beyond the
landing they formed their companies and made their preparations for the
last and longest stage of their journey.

Though the season was late, when they first crossed the Missouri, some
of them moved forward with great hopefulness, full of the notion of
viewing and choosing their new homes that year. But the van had only
reached Grand Island and the Pawnee villages, when they were overtaken
by more ill news from Nauvoo. Before the summer closed, their enemies
set upon the last remnant of those who were left behind in Illinois.
They were a few lingerers, who could not be persuaded but there might
yet be time for them to gather up their worldly goods before removing.
Some weakly mothers and their infants, a few delicate young girls, and
many cripples and bereaved and sick people--these had remained under
shelter, according to the Mormon statement at least, by virtue of an
express covenant in their behalf. If there was such a covenant, it was
broken. A vindictive war was waged upon them, from which the weakest
fled in scattered parties, leaving the rest to make a reluctant and
almost ludicrously unavailing defence, till September 17th, when one
thousand six hundred twenty-five troops entered Nauvoo and drove all
forth who had not retreated before that time.

Like the wounded birds of a flock fired into toward nightfall, they came
straggling on with faltering steps, many of them without bag or baggage,
beast or barrow, all asking shelter or burial, and forcing a fresh
repartition of the already divided rations of their friends. It was
plain now that every energy must be taxed to prevent the entire
expedition from perishing. Further emigration for the time was out of
the question, and the whole people prepared themselves for encountering
another winter on the prairie.

Happily for the main body, they found themselves at this juncture among
Indians who were amicably disposed. The lands on both sides of the
Missouri in particular were owned by the Pottawottomis and Omahas, two
tribes whom unjust treatment by our United States Government had the
effect of rendering most hospitable to strangers whom they regarded as
persecuted like themselves.

They were pleased with the Mormons. They would have been pleased with
any whites who would not cheat them, nor sell them whiskey, nor whip
them for their poor gypsy habits, nor conduct themselves indecently
toward their women, many of whom among the Pottawottomis--especially
those of nearly unmixed French descent--are singularly comely, and some
of them educated. But all Indians have something like a sentiment of
reverence for the insane, and admire those who sacrifice, without
apparent motive, their worldly welfare to the triumph of an idea. They
understand the meaning of what they call a great vow, and think it the
duty of the right-minded to lighten the votary's penance under it. To
this feeling they united the sympathy of fellow-sufferers for those who
could talk to them of their own Illinois, and tell the story of how they
also had been ruthlessly expelled from it.

Their hospitality was sincere, almost delicate. Fanny le Clerc, the
spoiled child of the great brave Pied Riche, interpreter of the nation,
would have the paleface Miss Devine learn duets with her on the guitar;
and the daughter of substantial Joseph la Framboise, the United States
interpreter for the tribe (she died of the fever that summer) welcomed
all the nicest young Mormon women to a party at her father's house,
which was probably the best cabin in that village. They made the Mormons
at home, there and elsewhere. Upon all their lands they formally gave
them leave to remain as long as suited their own good pleasure.

The affair, of course, furnished material for a solemn council. Under
the auspices of an officer of the United States their chiefs were
summoned, in the form befitting great occasions, to meet in the yard of
a Mr. P.A. Sarpy's log trading-house. They came in grand costume, moving
in their fantastic attire with so much _aplomb_ and genteel measure that
the stranger found it difficult not to believe them high-born gentlemen,
attending a fancy-dress ball. Their aristocratically thin legs, of which
they displayed fully the usual Indian proportion, aided this illusion.
There is something too at all times very mock-Indian in the theatrical
French millinery tie of the Pottawottomi turban; while it is next to
impossible for a sober white man, at first sight, to believe that the
red, green, black, blue, and yellow cosmetics, with which he sees such
grave personages so variously dotted, diapered, cancelled, and
arabesqued are worn by them in any mood but one of the deepest and most
desperate quizzing. From the time of their first squat upon the ground
to the final breaking up of the council circle they sustained their
characters with equal self-possession and address.

I will not take it upon myself to describe their order of ceremonies;
indeed, I ought not, since I have never been able to view the habits and
customs of our aborigines in any other light than that of a sorrowful
subject of jest. Besides, in this instance, the powwow and the expected
flow of turgid eloquence were both moderated probably by the conduct of
the entire transaction on temperance principles. I therefore content
myself with observing generally that the proceedings were such as in
every way became the dignity of the parties interested, and the
magnitude of the interests involved. When the red men had indulged to
satiety in tobacco-smoke from their peace-pipes, and in what they love
still better--their peculiar metaphoric rhodomontade, which, beginning
with the celestial bodies, and coursing downward over the grandest
sublunary objects, always managed to alight at last on their "Great
Father," Polk, and the tenderness with which his affectionate red
children regarded him. All the solemn funny fellows present, who played
the part of chiefs, signed formal articles of convention with their
unpronounceable names.

The renowned chief Pied Riche--he was surnamed Le Clerc on account of
his remarkable scholarship--then rose and said: "My Mormon brethren, the
Pottawottomi came, sad and tired, into this unhealthy Missouri bottom,
not many years back, when he was taken from his beautiful country,
beyond the Mississippi, which had abundant game and timber and clear
water everywhere. Now you are driven away, the same, from your lodges
and lands and the graves of your people. So we have both suffered. We
must help one another, and the Great Spirit will help us both. You are
now free to cut and use all the wood you may wish. You can make all your
improvements, and live on any part of our actual land not occupied by
us. Because one suffers, and does not deserve it, is no reason he shall
suffer always: I say, we may live to see all right yet. However, if we
do not, our children will. _Bon jour!_"

And thus ended the powwow. I give this speech as a morsel of real
Indian. It was recited to me after the treaty by the Pottawottomi orator
in French, which language he spoke with elegance. _Bon jour_ ["good
day"] is the French, Indian, and English hail, and farewell of the
Pottawottomis.

Upon the Pottawotomi lands, scattered through the border regions of
Missouri and Iowa, in the Sac and Fox country, a few among the Ioways,
among the Poncas, in a great company upon the banks of the l'Eau qui
Coulee (or Running Water) River, and at the Omaha winter quarters, the
Mormons sustained themselves through the heavy winter of 1846-1847. It
was the severest of their trials. This winter was the turning-point of
the Mormon fortunes. Those who lived through it were spared to witness
the gradual return of better times; and they now liken it to the passing
of a dreary night, since which they have watched the coming of a
steadily brightening day.

In the spring of 1847, a body of one hundred forty-three picked men,
with seventy wagons, drawn by their best horses, left the Omaha
quarters, under the command of the members of the high council who had
wintered there. They carried with them little but seed and farming
implements, their aim being to plant spring crops at their ultimate
destination. They relied on their rifles to give them food, but rarely
left their road in search of game. They made long marches, and moved as
rapidly as possible.

Against the season when ordinary emigration passes the Missouri, they
were already through the South Pass, and after a couple of short days'
travel beyond it entered upon the more arduous part of their journey,
which now lay through the Rocky Mountains. They passed Fremont's Peak,
Long's Peak, The Twins, and other summits, but had great difficulties to
overcome in forcing their way over other mountains of the rugged Utah
range, sometimes following the stony bed of torrents, the headwaters of
some of the mightiest rivers of our continent, and sometimes literally
cutting their road through heavy and ragged timber. They arrived at the
grand basin of the Great Salt Lake, much exhausted, but without losing a
man, and in time to plant for a partial autumn harvest. Another party
started after these pioneers from the Omaha winter quarters, in the
summer. They had five hundred sixty-six wagons, and carried large
quantities of grain, which they were able to sow before it froze.

The same season these were joined by a part of the battalion and other
members of the Church who came eastward from California and the Sandwich
Islands. Together they fortified themselves strongly with sun-dried
brick walls and blockhouses, and, living safely through the winter, were
able to reap crops that yielded ample provision for the ensuing year.

In 1848, nearly all the remaining members of the Church left the
Missouri country in a succession of powerful bands, invigorated and
enriched by their abundant harvests there; and that year saw fully
established their commonwealth of the "New Covenant," the future State
of "Deseret." [Footnote: The Mormons repeatedly tried to secure the
admission of Deseret into the Union as a State under that name--said to
mean "virtue and industry."]

When Utah was organized as a Territory (1850), the Mormon leader,
Brigham Young, was made governor. In 1857 President Buchanan appointed a
non-Mormon to succeed Young. This act led the Mormons to rebel, but
after a display of military force by the Government they acknowledged
allegiance. In 1896, polygamy having been prohibited by Congress, Utah
was admitted to the Union. Since the settlement of the Mormons upon the
Great Salt Lake there has been a large immigration into Utah. [The
Mormons have spread beyond that State into Arizona, Idaho, Wyoming, and
other parts of the West and Southwest--ED.]




(1848) THE REFORMS OF PIUS IX, Francis Bowen


In the long roll of pontiffs the name of Pius IX stands conspicuous
among those of popes, who have greatly exerted their power for effect
upon the papacy itself. But the influence of Pius IX was not less marked
in Italian and European politics. An account of the reforms which he
undertook and of the obstacles he had to confront, cannot fail to
convey, directly or by implication, matters of much importance in modern
history. That a pope who signalized the beginning of his official career
by a series of liberal reforms should soon have been driven from his see
by revolutionists is one of the historical paradoxes for which even the
"philosophy of history" finds it difficult to account. But, as one
writer tells us, "The revolutionary fever of 1848 spread too fast for a
reforming pope, and his refusal to make war upon the Austrians finally
cost him the affections of the Romans."

Pope Pius IX (Giovanni Maria Mastai Ferretti) who at the age of
fifty-four brought the power of his papal throne to advance the cause of
Young Italy--led by Mazzini and other patriots--was born at Sinigaglia
May 13, 1792. He was descended from a noble family, and his early
education was received at the College of Volterra. Throughout the years
of his youth he suffered from infirm health, but before reaching thirty
he gained much in strength, and in 1827 became Archbishop of Spoleto. In
1840 he was made cardinal by Pope Gregory XVI. Gregory died June 1,
1846, and after being two days in conclave the cardinals elected their
colleague Ferretti to succeed him. The cardinals felt the advisability
of choosing for pope a native of the Papal States, a man not too far
advanced in years, and one "who would see the necessity of correcting
abuses and making some reforms."

Francis Bowen, whose review of Pope Pius's career, from his entrance
upon the papal office until his temporary withdrawal from Rome, is here
presented, is a well-known authority in this as also in other fields of
history, and his recital is based upon the best contemporary accounts.

When Pius IX was elected Pope his course did not long remain doubtful.
He limited the expenses of the court at once, dispensed alms in
abundance, set aside one day of each week for giving audiences, and
commanded that political inquisitions should be stopped immediately.
These few steps, taken before he had had time to consult with others,
afford perhaps a better indication of the mild and kind character of the
new pontiff than the grave political acts which were subsequently
performed. These show us the man, the others reveal only the sovereign.
Just one month after his election, a manifesto of amnesty for all
political offenders was published at Rome, including the exiles, those
awaiting trial, and those undergoing sentence. The only conditions
imposed were that the individuals pardoned should give their word of
honor never to abuse the indulgence, and would fulfil every duty of a
good citizen.

The news of this act flew like the wind through the Papal States, and
caused everywhere a burst of exultation and gratitude toward the new
sovereign. It carried joy to thousands of households, bringing back to
them the long-separated brother or parent, and it was a token of future
peace and contentment. In the city, says Farini, [Footnote: Luigi Carlo
Farini, who is freely quoted by Bowen, was an Italian historian and
statesman. His principal work is _Storia dello stato Romano dall' anno
1814 al 1830_.--ED.] the hosannas were countless; each citizen embraced
his neighbor like a brother; thousands of torches blazed in the evening;
the multitude ran to the palace of the Pope, called for him, threw
themselves prostrate on the earth before him, and received his blessing
in devout silence. Many of the pardoned offenders were still more
extravagant in their demonstrations of joy and thankfulness. Among them
was Galletti, of Bologna, afterward one of the Pope's ministers, and
most active in those measures which ended in the assassination of Rossi
and in driving Pius into exile. He had been sentenced to imprisonment
for life, and was kept in the castle of Sant' Angelo. When released, he
threw himself at the Pope's feet, and swore, by his own heart's blood
and that of his children, that he would be grateful and faithful. Some
of the exiles, however, among whom was Mamiani, refused to subscribe the
proposed engagement, simple as it was; but they returned after a time to
their homes, merely promising allegiance. Every time that the Pope left
his palace he was surrounded by a sort of triumphal procession. The
whole length of the Corso was decorated when he passed through it, and
hundreds of likenesses of him, and of panegyrical compositions, covered
the walls. Foremost in getting up these popular celebrations was Angelo
Brunetti, afterward so well known by his nickname of "Ciceruacchio." "He
was a person of single mind, rustic in manners, proud and at the same
time generous, as is common with Romans of the lower class." By his
industry he had acquired considerable property, and by his liberal use
of it had become a leader of the populace, whom he now fired with his
own enthusiasm for Pius IX.

The Pope would have been more than man if his head had not been a little
turned with all this adulation, which came to him from many foreign
lands as well as from Italy. But his simple and modest character bore
the trial well; he manifested no undue elation, and formed his plans
tranquilly and without hurry for the improvement of his people. Cardinal
Gizzi, well known as a friend to reform, and much attached to the Pope,
was named Secretary of State; and he wrote letters to the presidents of
the provinces, inviting them, the municipal magistrates, ecclesiastics,
and all respectable citizens, to prepare and offer schemes for promoting
popular education, and especially for the moral, religious, and
industrial instruction of the children of the poor. Commissions were
appointed to deliberate and advise upon many subjects of proposed
reform. Great, indeed, was the need of change in the institutions of the
Pontifical States; but the Government had a delicate part to play in
amending them, and it wisely determined not to be precipitate in its
measures. "Already the Liberals had conceived boundless desires, and the
Retrogradists were haunted with unreasonable fears. The Government had,
to-day, to moderate on the left, circulate despatches, wellnigh to scold
men for hoping too much."

But the friends of change, says Farini, were for the most part measured
in their wishes and cautious in their proceedings; for all prudent men
were exerting themselves strenuously to keep the impatient in hand, with
excellent effect.

We cannot follow in detail the Pope's measures down to March, 1848, till
which period the movement may be considered as all his own, emanating
from his free choice and not from the pressure of outward circumstances
or from revolutions in foreign States. He did enough during these twenty
months to establish his character as a wise, humane, and liberal
sovereign, eager to promote the temporal and religious interests of his
people, and prompt to give political power into their hands as fast as
they showed themselves capable of using, and not abusing, it. He
instituted a civic guard throughout his dominions, modelled on the
French National Guard, and disbanded the Gregorian Centurions and
volunteers. All his court was opposed to this measure as premature and
dangerous; and even Cardinal Gizzi resigned his place in consequence of
it. But the Pope persevered, and Cardinal Ferretti, still more inclined
to liberalism, was appointed in his place.

He conceived the idea of an Italian customs league, after the model of
the German one, and pressed it with so much earnestness that in
November, 1847, it was instituted for the Roman, Tuscan, and Sardinian
dominions, and every effort was made to render it acceptable to the
other powers of Italy. He established a municipal government for the
city of Rome, which had hitherto remained without one; and he created a
Council of State for all his dominions, to consist chiefly of the laity,
one person being chosen for each Province by the sovereign, out of a
list of three, nominated by the provincial authorities. This Council was
to sit in Rome, and aid the Government with its advice in putting the
various departments in order, in constituting municipalities, and in
other public concerns. He created, also, a Council of Ministers, which
Farini calls the most important act of his reign, "As being that by
which the executive power acquired an organization worthy of a civilized
state, and altogether novel in that of Rome." There were to be nine
departments, and, with the exception of the president of the Council and
its secretary, the ministers need not be cardinals. All those first
appointed, however, were cardinals or prelates.

A body of _Uditori_ was attached to this Council, consisting of twelve
ecclesiastics and twelve laymen, all appointed by the sovereign. The
laws respecting the censorship of the press were much relaxed, and
numerous political journals were established at Rome, which before had
nothing that deserved the name of a newspaper. "Our infant journalism,"
says Farini, "had its infant passions and caprices; instead of
meditating, it gambolled, and every day it smashed its toys of the day
before, as children do; it instituted a school of declamation, not of
political knowledge; it ran and plunged about, blindfold; it made boast
of an independent spirit, and was a mean slave to out-of-doors
influence."

These measures of reform, and the enthusiasm which they created, were
not without effect on surrounding nations. Considering the place whence
they came, and the sovereign who conducted them, they were adapted to
have a vast influence. Rome, the "Eternal City," was regenerated, and a
new life bounded through her old limbs; and the August head of the
Catholic Church, the greatest religious potentate of the civilized
world, the infallible, the object of veneration to half Christendom, and
hitherto the most despotic and conservative sovereign in Europe, was now
the daring innovator, the radical, the idol of the populace. Austria
looked on with distrust and dismay, and tried to pick a quarrel and thus
find a pretext for invasion by ordering its troops, who had as yet only
garrisoned the fortress, to occupy the city of Ferrara and patrol its
streets--a measure almost sure to lead to a collision with its citizens.

The Pope protested in a firm but temperate tone, and his indignant
people would fain have hurried him into a war; but he bridled their
impatience and the matter ended in a compromise. Tuscany caught the
generous flame of freedom; and though there was not so much to be
accomplished there, as the Government had long been mild and discreet,
the good Archduke [Leopold II] professed the utmost admiration for Pius,
and began to imitate his measures.

The King of Sardinia was moved to enthusiasm; during the difficulty with
Austria about Ferrara he offered the Pope whatever succor of ships or
men he might need, and an asylum in his dominions if he should be
compelled to leave Rome. He did more; he relaxed the bonds of the press,
improved the administration of justice, deprived the police of their
discretionary power, enlarged and amended the Council of State,
emancipated the communes, and allowed their officers to be chosen by
popular vote. The character and example of Pius seemed likely to effect
as great and as beneficial changes out of his dominions as within them.
Those of the Italian sovereigns who were not willing to follow his lead
of their own accord, were obliged to yield in dismay before the spirit
which he had awakened in their subjects.

The silly Duke of Lucca, a fanatic, a prodigal, and a despot, after
attempting in vain to cudgel his people into submission, fled in terror
from their aroused wrath, and consented to the annexation of his
dominions to Tuscany, whereby they shared in the reforms instituted by
Leopold.

But in Sicily and Naples were developed the most striking results of the
fire which had been kindled by a reforming pope. The cruel and imbecile
Bourbon who reigned there became only more harsh and obstinate, while
the other princes of Italy deemed it necessary to reform their
institutions and conciliate their people. His subjects petitioned him,
and shouted for Pius in the streets; but the soldiery were turned
against them, and the King showed himself alike inaccessible to their
caresses and their prayers. "One king only," said Thiers from the
tribune, speaking of Italy, "he of Naples, presented the sword's point
to the people who were flocking around him, and that people fell on it."
The impulsive Sicilians fixed January 12, 1848, as the day beyond which
their patience would not extend. The King made no concessions, the day
came, and the island was revolutionized, the troops everywhere giving
way before the excited populace. Within a fortnight the inhabitants of
Naples followed their example; and before the fight began, the King's
heart failed him, and he granted all that they asked. The Ministry was
changed, a constitution was resolved upon, and its fundamental
principles were announced on January 29th, while the Administration
pledged themselves to publish it complete within twelve days. The King
came out to meet the crowd, who were cheering him, and intimated his
purpose to surpass the other sovereigns of Italy in the magnitude of his
concessions. How sincere his promises were, the lapse of a few months
fully showed; but at present everything wore a cheerful aspect.

The Pope had now reached the climax of his fortunes, the furthest limit
of the good which he was permitted to accomplish by his own free will,
and the sky began to be overcast. The enthusiasm of his people became
unmanageable, and the volcanic force of another French revolution was
soon to burst and to prostrate half the governments in Europe by the
explosion. Constant excitement for twenty months had made Rome noisy and
turbulent, and the populace had been gratified so often that they now
expected everything to succumb to their wishes. Busy agitators were in
the midst of them, intent upon prosecuting the plans of Mazzini and
Young Italy, and turning reform into revolution. The people were mad for
a declaration of war against Austria, though the military strength of
the Roman States was grossly inadequate for such a conflict, and the
head of the Catholic Church was naturally reluctant to come to
extremities with a Catholic power which had long been the firmest
support of the papacy. Then a cry was raised to exclude all
ecclesiastics from office, or at least to admit so large a portion of
the laity into the Administration that Rome would be secularized and
lose its distinctive character as an appanage for the head of the
Church. The people would not consider, or were reckless of the fact,
that Pius was a devout Catholic as well as a liberal sovereign, and
could not be expected to lend his aid to a project for stripping the
papacy of all temporal power, if not for razing it to its foundations.
The cries of expulsion and death to the Jesuits were also raised; and as
that body, however obnoxious elsewhere, had given no offence at Rome,
the Pope's sense of justice inclined him to protect them and to resist
the clamor of the mob.

The news from Sicily and Naples caused a great popular demonstration at
Rome, the aspect of which was so threatening that Pius issued a
proclamation, on February 10th, announcing that he had taken measures
for reorganizing and enlarging the army, and for augmenting the lay
portion of the Council of Ministers; but appealing to his people in
affecting terms, by the proofs already given of his solicitude in their
behalf, that they should cease from agitation and not make demands which
could not be granted consistently with his duty and their own
well-being. This paper caused another effusion of popular gratitude; an
immense multitude collected in the Piazza del Papolo, and, accompanied
by the Civic Guard and bearing banners, they set out for the Pope's
palace. When they came to the Quirinal Pius showed himself at the
balcony and made signs that he wished to speak. "There was a profound
silence, not broken even by the trickling of the fountains, which had
been stopped some days before." The Pope said:

"'Before the benediction of God descends upon you, on the rest of my
people, and, I say it again, on all Italy, I pray you to be of one mind,
and to keep the faith which you have sworn to me, the Pontiff.'

"At these words the silence of deep feeling was broken by a sudden
thunder of acclamation, 'Yes, I swear,' and Pius proceeded:

"'I warn you, however, against the raising of certain cries, that are
not of the people, but of a few individuals, and against making any such
requests to me as are incompatible with the sanctity of the Church; for
these I cannot, I may not, and I will not grant. This being understood,
with my whole soul, I bless you.'"

Deeds followed words; the Ministry was changed; five laymen were
admitted into it, and it was intimated that a constitution would be
granted resembling those in other States. Then came the news of the
disasters at Paris, and everything was precipitated. On March 10th the
Ministry was again changed, only three ecclesiastics being now admitted
into it; and on the 14th the new constitution, or "Fundamental Statute,"
was proclaimed. It instituted a Legislature in two branches, the High
Council and the Council of Deputies, the members of the former being
appointed by the Pope, and those of the latter being chosen by popular
vote in the ratio, as nearly as might be, of one to every thirty
thousand souls. All citizens were voters who paid twelve crowns a year
in direct taxes or had property amounting to three hundred crowns; to
these were added all members of colleges and honorary graduates, and all
persons holding office in the communes and municipalities. The
Legislature was to be convoked every year, both Councils were to choose
their own officers, and their sessions were to be public, except on
extraordinary occasions when they might of their own accord prefer
secrecy. Freedom of debate and vote was guaranteed, and the members of
both Houses were protected from arrest, even for notoriously criminal
acts, during the session, except by consent of the Council to which they
belonged.

They were to have authority to make laws on all subjects, excepting
ecclesiastical matters and the canons and discipline of the Church, but
including the imposition of taxes; the Pope, however, like most
monarchs, reserved to himself the right of negativing a law. All
discussions, also, of the diplomatico-religious relations of the Holy
See with foreign powers were forbidden. Money bills were to originate in
the lower house, and direct taxes could be granted for only a year. The
Deputies had a right to impeach ministers, who, if they were laymen,
were to be tried by the High Council; if ecclesiastics, by the Sacred
College. The unlimited right of petition to the lower house was assured
and ministers were responsible for every ministerial act; they had the
right of sitting and debating, but not of voting, in both Councils. A
portion of the revenue of the State, for the support of the cardinals,
the ecclesiastical congregations, and generally for the transaction of
purely ecclesiastical business, was to be secured to the Pope, and to be
borne on the estimates every year.

The judges were to be irremovable after they had held office for three
years; and all persons were declared equal in the sight of the law.
Extraordinary commissions or tribunals for the trial of offences were
abolished. All property, whether of individuals or corporations, whether
civil or ecclesiastical, was to be held subject to its equal part of the
burdens of the State; and to all bills imposing taxes, the Pope would
annex, of his own authority, a special waiver of the ecclesiastical
exemption. The administrations of the Provinces and the communes were
placed in the hands of their respective inhabitants. The Government (or
political) censorship was abolished, but the ecclesiastical censorship
was retained.

Such is a general outline of the Roman Constitution spontaneously
granted to his subjects by Pius IX. Its merits, in all civil or
political matters, are certainly equal, if not superior, to those of the
English Constitution, from which in great part it was borrowed; its
faults are precisely those which resulted necessarily from the Pope's
double character, as temporal sovereign of the Roman States and as head
of the Catholic Church throughout the world. It was not within the
province or at the discretion of Pius to alter the tenure by which he
held his throne, to change the fundamental principles of the Church or
to abolish his ecclesiastical dominion. He granted to his subjects all
that was in his power to grant as their temporal sovereign. His purely
ecclesiastical relations and duties did not concern them, or concerned
them only so far as they were members of the great body of Catholic
believers in all lands. The College of Cardinals _must_ choose the Pope,
and _must_ choose one of their own number; this is not a law of the
Roman States, but a law of the Catholic Church. Pius could not abrogate
it; and if he had been inclined to grant everything to his people by
divesting himself of the last rag of his sovereignty, the only
consequence would have been that the cardinals must have chosen another
pope in his place, who might undo all that Pius had accomplished.

These are obvious and necessary considerations; and the Pope expressly
recognizes them in the ordinance accompanying the grant of the
constitution. "We intend," he says, "to maintain intact our authority in
matters that by their nature are related to the Catholic religion and
its rule of morals. And this is due from us as a guaranty to the whole
of Christendom, that, in the States of the Church reorganized in this
new form, nothing shall be derogated from the liberties and rights of
the Church herself, and of the Holy See, nor any precedent be
established for violating the sacredness of the religion which it is our
duty and mission to preach to the whole world, as the only scheme of
covenant between God and man, the only pledge of that heavenly
benediction by which states subsist and nations flourish."

Now, it is worthy of note that neither this constitution nor any of the
acts of Pius under it was ever complained of by any party among the
Pope's subjects except in regard to these ecclesiastical reservations
which were forced from him by the very nature of the office that he
held. The constitutionalists, indeed the moderate reformers, the party
of Balbo and Gioberti and D'Azeglio, which comprised most of the
educated and reflecting persons in the State, seem to have been entirely
satisfied with it as a whole, or as it was. So also were the unthinking
populace, who received it with shouts of exultation, so long as they
were not moved by the arts of a party who would not be satisfied with
having a good pope, but were bent upon having no pope at all. This was
the party of Mazzini, the revolutionists as distinguished from the
reformers--not strong at first either in numbers or credit, as we have
seen, but who made up for all deficiencies by their zeal and
activity--who were determined to establish a republic, and who cared
nothing for the embarrassments of the Pope's situation as head of the
Church, of indeed for the Church itself. They complained--and with
reason, too, upon their principles--of these ecclesiastical
reservations; and they made out of them their chief weapon of attack
upon the Pope's government, though they did not profit so much by the
use of it as by the evident unwillingness of Pius to rush into a war
with Austria for the purpose of giving the sovereignty of Lombardy to
Charles Albert, a measure to which he was averse, because he thought
such a conflict would be detrimental to the interests of the Church over
which he presided.

The world's future judgment of Pius will depend upon its belief of the
sincerity with which he acted in thus allowing nothing but his religious
duties and his position as the head of the Church to limit his
concessions of political privileges to his subjects. On this point, it
is well to hear the opinion of Farini, who, as one of the Mamiani
Ministry and as employed to mediate between them and the Pope, because
much loved and trusted by him, seems peculiarly qualified to form one
without undue bias on either side:

"Pius IX had applied himself to political reform, not so much for the
reason that his conscience as an honorable man and a most pious
sovereign enjoined it, as because his high view of the papal office
prompted him to employ the temporal power for the benefit of his
spiritual authority. A meek man and a benevolent prince, Pius IX was, as
a pontiff, lofty even to sternness. With a soul not only devout, but
mystical, he referred everything to God, and respected and venerated his
own person as standing in God's place. He thought it his duty to guard
with jealousy the temporal sovereignty of the Church, because he thought
it essential to the safe-keeping and the apostleship of the faith.

"Aware of the numerous vices of that temporal government, and hostile to
all vice and all its agents, he had sought, on mounting the throne, to
effect those reforms which justice, public opinion, and the times
required. He hoped to give lustre to the papacy by their means, and so
to extend and to consolidate the faith. He hoped to acquire for the
clergy that credit, which is a great part of the decorum of religion and
an efficient cause of reverence and devotion in the people. His first
efforts were successful in such a degree that no pontiff ever got
greater praise.

"By this he was greatly stimulated and encouraged, and perhaps he gave in
to the seduction of applause and the temptations of popularity more than
is fitting for a man of decision or for a prudent prince. But when,
after a little, Europe was shaken by universal revolution, the work he
had commenced was, in his view, marred; he then retired within himself
and took alarm.

"In his heart, the pontiff always came before the prince, the priest
before the citizen; in the secret struggles of his mind, pontifical and
priestly conference always outweighed the conscience of the prince and
citizen. And as his conscience was a very timid one, it followed that
his inward conflicts were frequent; that hesitation was a matter of
course, and that he often took resolutions even about temporal affairs,
more from religious intuition or impulse than from his judgment as a
man. Added to this, his health was weak and susceptible of nervous
excitement--the dregs of his old complaint. From this he suffered most
when his mind was most troubled and uneasy; another cause of wavering
and changefulness.

"Under the pressure of the extraordinary occurrences throughout Europe
early in the spring of 1848, the Pope's new Ministry under the
constitution proceeded vigorously and rapidly to give full development
and efficiency to that instrument. They also expressed the wish for a
firm union of the constitutional thrones of Italy with one another with
a view to insuring her independence; and they ordered the papal banners
to be decorated with pennons of the Italian tricolor. On March 21st the
news of the revolution at Vienna, much magnified by report, arrived, and
the excitement of the Roman populace knew no bounds.

"Every bell in the city pealed for joy; from palace and from hovel, from
magazine and workshop, the townspeople poured in throngs into the
streets and squares; some took to letting off firearms, some to strewing
flowers; some hoisted flags on the towers, some decked with them their
balconies; everybody was shouting '_Italia! Italia!_' and cursing the
Empire. In an access of fury, the Austrian arms were torn down, dashed
to pieces, and befouled amid the applause of the crowd in spite of the
dissuasion of the public functionaries and of prudent persons."

The hostility to the Jesuits now threatened to break out into violence;
and for the double purpose of protecting them and appeasing the passions
of the mob the Pope consented that the schools which they had
superintended should be given into other hands, that their associations
should be disbanded and they should be exiled.

"The Government perhaps had no choice, so swiftly and impetuously did
the torrent of popular commotion roll. I will not affirm that the Pope
and the Government ought to have exposed to the last hazard the security
of the State for an ineffectual defence of the fraternity. What I wish
to observe is that if there were among the Jesuits men stained with
guilt, and mischievous plotters, they ought to have been watched and
punished as bad citizens; but it was incompatible with propriety or
justice to condemn and punish a religious association, as such, in a
place where the Pope held both his own seat and the supreme authority of
the Church. None but the Pope had the power to condemn the society as a
whole, and no condemnation but his could be just or valid in the opinion
and conscience of the Catholics, or produce the desired political
effects." On the same day that the Jesuits were expelled, the Pope
issued a noble proclamation, breathing the best spirit of religion. The
following excerpt is a portion of it:

"_Pius Papa IX to the People of the States of Italy--Health and
Apostolic Benediction_:

"The events which the last two months have witnessed, following and
thronging one another in such rapid succession, are no work of man. Woe
to him that does not discern the Lord's voice in this blast that
agitates, uproots, and rends the cedar and the oak. Woe to the pride of
man if he shall refer, these marvellous changes to any human merit or
any human fault; if instead of adoring the hidden designs of Providence,
whether manifested in the paths of his justice or of his mercy, or of
that Providence in whose hands are all the ends of the earth. And we,
who are endowed with speech in order to interpret the dumb eloquence of
the works of God--we cannot be mute amid the longings, the fears, and
the hopes which agitate the minds of our children.

"And first, it is our duty to make known to you that if our hearts had
been moved at hearing how, in a part of Italy, the consolations of
religion have preceded the perils of battle, and nobleness of mind has
been displayed in works of charity, we nevertheless could not and cannot
but greatly grieve over the injuries which, in other places, have been
done to the ministers of that same religion--injuries, even if contrary
to our duty we were silent concerning them, our silence could not hinder
from impairing the efficacy of our benedictions.

"Neither can we refrain from telling you that to use victory well is a
greater and more difficult achievement than to be victorious. If the
present day recalls to you any other period of your history, let the
children profit by the errors of their forefathers. Remember that all
stability and all prosperity has its main earthly ground in concord;
that it is God alone who maketh of one mind them that dwell in a house;
that he grants this reward only to the humble and the meek, to those who
respect his laws, in the liberty of his church, in the order of society,
in charity toward all mankind."

       *       *       *       *       *

Shortly afterward another measure, emanating entirely from the Pope, and
opposed by the prejudices of the mob, showed that his humane and liberal
disposition and enlightened understanding waited for no impulse from
without, and for no hope of increased popularity, before doing justice
to a long oppressed race. "The friends of social progress were highly
gratified by the decision of Pius IX to raze in Rome the walls and gates
which shut up the Jews in the Ghetto. He had already, at the
commencement of his pontificate, softened some of the rigors with which
they were afflicted, and had directed that they might spread beyond that
ignominious precinct; nor, however great was the outcry about it among
the mob, did he forego the idea of bettering the condition of the
followers of the Mosaic law." He was disposed to give them civil rights;
and if he did not think of extending his concessions even to political
privileges, yet he would give this as the main reason for it, that, in a
constitutional country, everyone who enjoys them may rise to the highest
stages of power; whereas a pope could not have any save Catholic
ministers. In the mean time he raised them out of the abjectness of
their isolation, although the Roman vulgar censured him for it bitterly,
most of all because it took effect in Holy Week. When it was known in
the city that the walls and fastenings of the Ghetto were to be pulled
down at night, by order of the Cardinal Vicar, Ciceruacchio hastened
with his companions, or subjects, to share in the work; and they shared
in it so largely that it seemed as though the thing were effected more
as their boon than by the will of the Pope. Pius IX was vexed at this;
whether because noise had been made about what he wanted done quietly,
or because it was brought about in such a manner that it might seem the
popular party had had more to say to it than the authority of the head
of religion. Rome fully shared the enthusiasm which was awakened
throughout Italy by the entrance of the Piedmontese troops into
Lombardy, and by the announcement by Charles Albert that he had drawn
the sword in the sacred cause of Italian independence. His proclamation,
in the stilted phrase common to such state papers, declared that he
relied upon "the assistance of that God who is visibly with us; of that
God who has given Pius IX to Italy; of that God who, by such wondrous
impulses, has placed her in a condition to act for herself." And if she
acted for herself, if her deeds had been commensurate with her glorious
words, the Austrian would never again have trodden any portion of the
peninsula with the step of a master. But the zeal of the Italians for
independence seemed all to evaporate in high-sounding manifestoes, and
in a few excesses of the populace in the great cities. The inactivity of
the Italian sovereigns may be explained by their imputed treachery or
lukewarmness in the cause. But what prevented the people themselves from
crowding the camp of Charles Albert with volunteers at a time when not a
crowned head in Italy dared offer the least open opposition to such a
movement? The King of Naples, sorely against his will, sent his regular
army, consisting of about fourteen thousand men, to fight for the cause,
and withdrew them in about six weeks, as soon as a base act of treachery
had given him the victory at home. General Pepe, their commander, wished
to disobey the order and move forward; but "nearly the whole army turned
its back on the Po and on him, and moved backward in the direction of
the Neapolitan Kingdom." Two hundred volunteers had previously set out
from Naples for Upper Italy, under the guidance and at the expense of an
enthusiastic woman, the Princess Belgioioso. "She had lived as an exile
in France, and was at first enthusiastic for the _Giovine Italia_; she
afterward became averse to it, and sided with Guizot, Duchatel, and
Mignet, her intimate friend. She was well versed--or mixed herself
much--in literature, politics, the study of theology, and journalism; a
woman that had some of the feelings and anxieties of men, together with
all those of her own sex, and who was now travelling through Italy
intent upon manly business, but after woman's fashion. Other volunteers
afterward started, and a vessel set sail for Leghorn, which carried
them, along with the Tenth Regiment of the line." The Sicilians at the
same time determined to separate entirely from Naples and the rest of
the peninsula; "and thus all the ability and spirit, the arms and
wealth, of that powerful island were applied to the effort for insular
independence, and drawn off from that for the independence of the
nation." From Tuscany there went to this national war "about three
thousand volunteers, and perhaps as many more regulars"--a number so
small that Farini apologizes for it, and endeavors to prove that it
ought "not to be imputed to any lukewarmness in the affection for
Italy." The army from the Roman States, which the Pope had set on foot,
but hoped to retain as a defensive force within the northern boundary of
his dominions, numbered about sixteen thousand, of whom more than half
were volunteers. The conduct of the people of Lombardy, who though the
conflict raged on their own soil, and their own freedom was immediately
at stake, wasted their strength in quarrelling with one another instead
of succoring Charles Albert, has long been a topic of wonder and
censure. In short, all Italy did not furnish for this sacred war, so
long the object of her aspirations and her prayers, a body of volunteers
one-fourth as large as the army which the King of Sardinia brought into
the field, though it was probable that he was moved from the first only
by the hope of personal aggrandizement. He invaded Lombardy with an army
of fifty-five thousand men, expecting thereby to win, with the aid of
the national enthusiasm, the sceptre of all Italy for himself and his
descendants. A terrible disappointment awaited him; instead of glory,
shame and defeat were his portion; and having abdicated his paternal
throne in despair he died in exile, literally of a broken heart. Pius IX
was hardly more fortunate; to him also this fatal war brought dishonor
and exile, the loss of the affection of his subjects, and of the
admiration of the civilized world. The reluctance of the Pope to engage,
when unprovoked, in a war with Austria is no cause for wonder. He
earnestly desired the welfare of his people and the independence of his
native land; but all his desires were subject to the interests of the
Church, of which he was the recognized head throughout Christendom. The
republicans in his dominions, including Mazzini and his party, were
aware of this reluctance, and determined to make use of it and of the
passions of the people in order to get rid of him altogether. No
opportunity was lost to compromise him in the war, both in his temporal
and ecclesiastical character; and the misfortune of his twofold position
did not allow him to resist these machinations with success. General
Durando, the commander of the papal forces, issued a flaming
proclamation to his army when they passed the Po, announcing to them
that their swords were blessed by the venerable head of the Church, and
that they should all wear the cross on their bosoms, as beseemed those
who were engaged in a holy war. This act naturally gave great uneasiness
to the Pope, and Farini censures it as an unwise attempt to obtain the
sanctions of religion for merely political objects--the very conduct
which the Liberal party had previously censured in their opponents. If
Italian minds, he argues, "were not capable of warming with the simple
fire of patriotism for the noble and even holy enterprise of liberating
Italy from the stranger, it was vain to hope that hearts so frozen up in
indifference could kindle with religious faith." In the mean time the
Germans, who were speculating about the unity of their own stock and
nation and were straining every nerve in that difficult enterprise,
could not excuse the desire of independence in the Italians, and
contended for the boasted rights of Austria and Germany over the lands
and the coasts of Italy, with the people that inhabited them. When it
became known in Germany that the pontifical troops were hastening to the
legitimate defence of Italy it affected the public feeling generally,
and the name of Pius IX was branded with censure, not by laymen only,
but by some bishops and high ecclesiastics. Monsignor Viale, nuncio at
Vienna, and Monsignor Sacconi, nuncio at Munich, were assiduous and
eager in detailing the sinister reports touching Rome and the Pope, and
colored them in such a way as to create an apprehension of schism, the
most serious one that could rise for a pope--and that pope, too, Pius
IX. He had before this been greatly troubled by the proclamation of
General Durando; still he had hoped that the Italian League would be
shortly concluded, and that, when he had furnished the quota of troops
that might be due from him as a temporal sovereign, he would then have
been able, in the capacity of pontiff, to use those good offices which
he considered requisite to assure the consciences of Catholics.

Even the news of some reverses to the Italian arms in Lombardy failed to
awaken a proper feeling among the inhabitants of Central and Southern
Italy, and Farini thus censures the slothfulness and vanity of his
countrymen: "Few gave credit or importance at the time to this and other
sinister intelligence; the greater part of those who beheld the first
marvellous smiles of fortune relied upon the star of Italy, and thought
the Empire was dismembered. We Italians are too susceptible to the
impulses of passion, and of heat in the imagination; with a small matter
we are drunken and think to leap over the moon. Deadly intoxication,
most deadly fault, that of undervaluing an enemy, which lets our
enthusiasm too easily evaporate, and gives him every facility for
showing that he is as gallant as we are, and more resolute; that he has
much of perseverance and of discipline--qualities more effectual and
valuable than simple courage. It comes to this; we must either send
about their business the dreams of poets, and educate ourselves in
severe and masculine virtues, or must yet remain long in a position to
chant many more elegies, to assuage our sorrow, than hymns of triumph;
we must either rest assured that with the tenacious, the disciplined,
and the resolute only the tenacious, disciplined, and resolute can cope,
and must therefore leave off despising the Austrians, and imitate them
in their steadiness and their attention to the military spirit; or else
we must be doomed to the disgrace of seeing them masters of our country.
A stern truth; but the only one that an Italian freeman can utter to
Italians free in mind. He who wants compliments and adulation may fling
these warning words from him."

The Ministry at Rome, driven onward by the popular clamor, represented
to the Pope in strong terms the necessity of sending orders to his army
to take an active part in the war; for they had not yet commenced
hostilities with the Austrians. A consistory of the cardinals was to be
held on April 29th; and it was feared that Pius would take that occasion
for declaring that he was averse to the war, thus pacifying the minds of
the Catholics in Germany. The allocution of the Pope realized these
fears, though it expressed only his wish to remain neutral, "and to
embrace all kindreds, peoples, and nations with equal solicitude of
paternal affection." But the Ministry resigned in consequence, and great
disturbances arose in the city; the populace were not willing themselves
to volunteer for the war, but they were determined that the Pope should
not continue a man of peace. The Civic Guard was placed under arms, but
it was soon found that the soldiers shared the feelings of the people,
and no reliance could be placed upon them. Threats were uttered of
assassinating the cardinals, and others cried out "to make short
work--as they called it--with the government of the priests, those
traitors to Italy, and to place Rome under popular sway." To avert
bloodshed, the Pope consented to a compromise; he gave up the entire
direction of his troops to Charles Albert, and published, of his own
accord, and without the knowledge of his ministers, an affecting
remonstrance to his people.

Pius also wrote an earnest letter to the Emperor of Austria, entreating
him to put a stop to the war by acknowledging the independence of
Venetia and Lombardy. "Let not the generous German nation take it ill,"
he said, "if we invite them to lay resentment aside, and to convert into
the beneficial relations of friendly neighborhood a domination which
could never be prosperous or noble while it depended solely on the
sword." But the prayers of the Pope had now little influence either with
the Emperor or with his own subjects; he had long ago forfeited the
favor of the Absolutists by his political reforms, and he had now lost
the love of his people by his reluctance to gratify their passion for
sway.

Yet if he had basely yielded to their wishes, against his judgment and
his conscience, he would have injured only the cause of the papacy in
foreign lands, and the issue of the war would not have been changed. As
it was, his troops were actively engaged in the contest till the time of
their capture at Vicenza by the Austrians. The fatal blow was given to
the hopes of Italy by the King of Naples withdrawing his troops at a
critical moment, when their loss could not be replaced.

Their departure, and the consequent capture of the papal army under
Durando at Vicenza, enabled the Austrians to turn their whole force
against the Piedmontese, who were then defeated and driven back. The
disgraceful capitulation at Milan followed, and the cause of United
Italy was lost forever. Brilliant as its promise had been at the outset,
the Revolution of 1848 terminated as pitifully as did those of 1820 and
1831; and for its disastrous issue the Italians have none to blame but
themselves.

Misfortunes and defeat had their usual effect in inflaming the rage of
parties. The personal influence of the Pope could no longer keep the
passions of the citizens in check, and the clubs now governed Rome with
absolute sway. The party of Mazzini, bent on trying the experiment of a
republic at all hazards, began to show its head after a long period of
inefficiency and discouragement, and every day acquired new adherents
and stronger influence. One Ministry after another tried in vain to
steer the ship of state on an even course, between the opposite perils
of the domination of a mob and the rigorous enforcement of the laws. The
Pope tried for some months the experiment of a popular administration,
under Mamiani, of whom our author says, "He seemed to play the part of a
tribune of the people more than of the Pope's minister." Still he was an
honest man, opposed to violence, to tumult, and to all excesses, though
he paid too much deference to the clubs, which were now as turbulent and
mischievous as their Parisian prototypes. The acts of his Ministry were
not numerous, Farini says, for the character of the times would not
admit of dispassionate inquiries and solid reforms. In truth, the
energies of Government were exhausted in a vain attempt to keep the
peace in the city, which was now a constant scene of turbulence and
disorder. Bologna also, having successfully repelled an unauthorized
attack made upon it by the Austrians under Welden, had become a prey to
the wildest confusion, owing to the continuance there of the irregular
bands of armed men who had contributed to its defence. At the urgent
request of the Bolognese Deputies, the Ministry determined to send
thither one of their own number to aid in restoring order; and Farini
was deputed for this purpose. The following is a portion of his account
of what he saw there and what he accomplished:

"In the streets and open places of the city, for two days, the brigands
had been slaughtering every man his enemy among the Government officers,
some of them indeed disreputable and sorry fellows, others respectable.
They killed with musket-shot, and if the fallen gave signs of life they
reloaded their arms in the sight of the people and the soldiers and
fired them afresh, or else put an end to their victims with their
knives. They hunted men down like wild beasts, entered their houses, and
dragged them forth to slaughter. One Bianchi, an inspector of police,
was lying in bed, reduced to agony by consumption; they came in, set
upon him and cut his throat in the presence of his wife and children;
the corpse, a frightful spectacle, remained in the public streets. I saw
it, saw death dealt about, and the abominable chase. Cardinal Amat, who
had given notice of his arrival, came the day after; and the armed
commons escorted him to the palace at the very time when the villains
were perpetrating their murders.

"There were no longer any judges, or any officers of the police; those
who had escaped death either had fled or had hidden themselves; the
Civic Guard was disarmed, the citizens killed, the few soldiers of the
line either mixed with the insurgents or were wholly without spirit; the
carbineers and dragoons in hesitation, the volunteer legions and free
corps a support to the rioters, not to the authority of Government. We
sent to Rome for leave to declare Bologna in a state of siege; but the
answer was that the Ministry having taken the opinion of the Council of
State considered that order might be restored without recourse to this
extreme measure.

"All our best exertions were made to draw to the side of Government the
carbineers and dragoons, as also Bellezzi and the honest leaders of the
people, but with little success. It was reported that Bellezzi himself
had given leave to kill those whom they called the spies; one Masina
came before us, proposing by way of compromise to banish those whose
lives were threatened; armed men were in the very palace of government,
and we ourselves at their mercy. Accident, however, effected at a stroke
what we could have done only slowly and with difficulty. An assassin
attempted the life of a carbineer; his companions, inflamed with anger,
pursued him and caught him in a church. They then volunteered their most
resolute efforts at repression. They were ordered to sally forth, arrest
and disarm the ruffians. The dragoons seconded them; young Pepoli,
commandant of the Civic Guard, mustered a few companies; Bianchetti and
the respected citizens of the Committee of Public Safety drew close
around us, and we hurried in the Swiss from Forli. The population began
to regain its courage and to applaud the carbineers as they arrested the
assassins; the Swiss entered amid cheers."

The disturbances at Bologna were quelled; but the bonds of law and order
throughout the Papal States were now loosened, and it became evident
that a more determined minister must be placed at the helm, or the
experiment of the existing form of government must be abandoned in
despair. A republic or a return to the old principles of despotism would
then be inevitable. In this emergency the eyes of the Pope and of all
prudent persons at Rome were turned to Rossi, who, since the fall of
Louis Philippe's Government, from which he had been ambassador to the
Roman States, had resided there as a private citizen, taking no active
share in politics, but often consulted by both parties, owing to his
high reputation for sagacity and firmness. Exiled on account of his
liberal opinions by Gregory, he had laid the foundation of his fame at
Paris, where he successively became professor, peer, and ambassador, and
was highly esteemed by all parties as a writer and a statesman. Once
before, Pius had solicited him to form a ministry; but he had declined,
because conscious that the affections of the populace were not with him,
and he judged that the minds even of the better portion of the citizens
were not yet prepared for a resolute attempt to carry on a
constitutional government by firm measures.

He suggested to the Pope that he was probably odious to the court on
account of his previous employments and his writings; that some would
perhaps look very coldly on a minister who had married a Protestant
wife; and that the French Republic might be displeased if he should hold
a high post at Rome. But in the middle of September the solicitations of
the Pope and of many respectable persons in the State became so urgent
that Rossi consented to serve; the opinion was universal that no other
person possessed the requisite abilities, character, and experience to
carry on the Government at this perilous crisis; and that, if he failed,
all indeed was lost. He selected for his colleagues men of liberal
politics, but temperate in their opinions. He announced his intention to
carry into effect the Fundamental Statute, in all its parts, according
to constitutional usage; to counteract and repress both parties opposed
to that instrument; to abolish exemptions, restore the finances, and
reorganize the army; to conclude a league with Piedmont and Tuscany,
even if it should be impossible with Naples; and to fix the contingent
of troops which the Pope was to supply, so that he need not in any way
mingle in the war.

The turbulent and the presumptuous, "the magistrates accustomed to
fatten upon abuses, the Sanfedists who made a livelihood of disorder,
and the clergy, greedy of gold and honors, could ill bear that
Pellegrino Rossi should have the authority of a minister." But those who
knew the real condition of affairs, and that, unless the finances were
improved and public discipline and order restored, all would go to
wreck, counted it great gain that he should take charge of the
debilitated State. "The dissatisfied were more numerous and noisy in the
capital; the contented stronger in the Provinces, especially at Bologna,
where an educated community wished for a liberal system, with a
government strong in the strength of the law; where the recent terrible
events had filled every mind with horror; and where Rossi, the
proscribed of 1815, was dear to memory, and rooted in public esteem."

The Roman Legislature was to meet again in the middle of November, so
that the new minister was chiefly occupied with maturing the measures
which were to be laid before it for adoption. His public acts therefore
were few; but they were enough to show that new wisdom and vigor
directed the course of affairs. He obtained the Pope's consent that the
clergy should make a new contribution of two millions of crowns to the
State, on the strength of which he obtained a new loan and punctually
paid the interest on the public debt. He invited General Zucchi home
from Switzerland to take the command of the army, which rapidly improved
in discipline under his energetic guidance. He distributed medals to
those who had been wounded and to the families of the slain at Vicenza.
He established two lines of telegraph, one to Ferrara by the way of
Bologna, and another to Civita Vecchia. The negotiations with Sardinia
and Tuscany for an Italian league were advanced nearly to completion.
Chairs of political economy and commercial law were founded in the
universities at Rome and Bologna. Toward the close of October the mob
rose in Rome, on occasion of a squabble between a Jew and a Catholic,
and threatened to sack the Ghetto and maltreat its inhabitants. Rossi
hurried the Civic Guard and the carbineers to the spot, allayed the
tumult, arrested and imprisoned some of its ringleaders, and published
an energetic proclamation to warn the turbulent that the laws would be
enforced.

"All these proceedings excited the anger of Rossi's enemies, the
journalists, the captains of the people, and the Roman clubs." There was
no opprobrium that was not heaped upon him, no charge that was not
levelled at the Government. But these declamations seemed to have little
effect on the body of the people. On the morning of November 15th, when
the Legislature was to commence its session, though knots of persons
were seen talking in the streets with excited countenances, there was no
outbreak or popular tumult. Rossi had received many anonymous letters in
which his life was threatened, but he scorned to take any notice of
them. This morning one came which directly affirmed that he would be
assassinated in the course of the day; and he threw it into the fire.
The regulation of the police, now that the day of the session had
arrived, belonged to the President of the Council of Deputies; and
Rossi, punctilious in the observance of the constitution, refused to
give them any orders.

Several of his friends came and remonstrated with him against such an
exposure of his life. "To all this he answered that he had taken the
measures which he thought suitable for keeping the seditious in order,
and that he could not, on account of risk that he might personally run,
forego repairing to the Council according to his duty; that perhaps
these were idle menaces; but if anyone thirsted for his blood, he would
have the means of shedding it elsewhere on some other day, even if, on
that day, he should lose his opportunity. He would therefore go." He was
elated by the confidence which the Pope had in him, and expected both
trust and aid from the Parliament, to which he was so soon to explain
his ideas and intentions.

"When the ordinary hour of the parliamentary sitting, which was about
noon, arrived, the people began to gather in the square of the
Cancellaria, and by degrees in the courtyard and then in the public
galleries of the hall. Soon these were all full. A battalion of the
Civic Guard was drawn up in the square; in the court and hall there was
no guard greater than ordinary. There were, however, not a few
individuals, armed with their daggers, in the dress of the volunteers
returned from Vicenza, and wearing the medals with which the
municipality of Rome had decorated them. They stood together and formed
a line from the gate up to the staircase of the palace. Sullen visages
were to be seen and ferocious imprecations heard among them. During the
time when the Deputies were slowly assembling, and business could not
commence because there was not yet a quorum present, a cry for help
suddenly proceeded from the extremity of the public gallery, on which
everyone turned thither a curious eye; but nothing more was heard or
seen, and those who went to get some explanation of the circumstances
returned without success.

"In the mean time Rossi's carriage entered the court of the palace. He
sat on the right, and Righetti, Deputy Minister of Finance, on the left.
A howl was raised in the court and yard, which echoed even into the hall
of the Council. Rossi got out first, and moved briskly, as was his habit
in walking, across the short space which leads from the centre of the
court to the staircase on the left hand. Righetti, who descended after
him, remained behind, because the persons were in the way who caused the
outcry, and who, brandishing their cutlasses, had surrounded Rossi and
were loading him with opprobrium. At this moment there was seen amid the
throng the flash of a poniard, and then Rossi losing his feet and
sinking to the ground. Alas! he was spouting blood from a broad gash in
the neck. He was raised by Righetti, but could hardly hold himself up,
and did not articulate a syllable; his eyes grew clouded, and his blood
spurted forth in a copious jet. Some of those, whom I named as clad in
military uniform, were above upon the stairs; they came down, and formed
a ring about the unhappy man; and when they saw him shedding blood and
half lifeless, they all turned and rejoined their companions. He was
borne, amid his death-struggle, into the apartments of Cardinal Gazzoli,
at the head of the stairs on the left side; and there, after a few
moments, he breathed his last.

"In leaving the palace of the Cancellaria, one met some faces gleaming
with a hellish joy, others pallid with alarm; many townspeople standing
as if petrified; agitators, running this way and that, carbineers the
same; one kind of men might be heard muttering imprecations on the
assassin, but the generality faltered in broken and doubtful accents;
some, horrible to relate, cursed the murdered man. Yes, I have still
before my eyes the livid countenance of one who, as he saw me, shouted,
'So fare the betrayers of the people!' But the city was in the depths of
gloom, as under the hand of calamity and the scourge of God; and
wherever there were respectable persons, though of liberal and Italian
principles, they were horror-struck, and called for the resolute
exertions of the authorities."

When the terrible news came to the Pope, he was struck with horror and
dismay, but yet strove to rally the other members of the Government
around him and preserve the State from anarchy. But his efforts were
miserably seconded; one person after another declined taking office or
continuing in it; and even when the presidents of the two Councils were
summoned, they had little advice to give. On the morrow the tidings came
that a mob was on its way toward the Quirinal, some of the carbineers
having fraternized with them, to enforce the appointment of a democratic
ministry, and a declaration in favor of a constituent assembly for all
Italy. Only a few Swiss, the ordinary guard of honor, were on duty; but
they shut the gates of the palace, and nobly declared that their own
bodies should be piled up behind them before the rioters should enter.
Galletti, the former minister of police, acted as spokesman of the mob,
and when admitted to an audience he stated their demands. The Pope
indignantly declared that he would not yield to violence, but must
deliberate in freedom. This answer only inspired the insurgents with
fresh fury, so that they pressed forward to the gates, set one of them
on fire, and, mounting upon the roofs of the neighboring houses, opened
a fire upon the walls and windows of the Quirinal. The few Swiss fired
in return; and then the cry ran through the city that the Pope's guards
were butchering the people, and already there were many slain. Within
the palace many advised Pius to yield, a few still spoke of resistance,
and the foreign ministers, who were collected there, had no scheme to
offer. "The scuffle continues; the worthy prelate, Monsignor Palma,
falls dead by the window of his own apartment; balls reach the
ante-chamber of the Pope." At last Pius turned to the diplomatic body
who stood around him, and said: "There is no further hope in resistance.
Already a prelate is slain in my very palace, shots are aimed at it,
artillery levelled. To avoid fruitless bloodshed and increased
enormities, we give way; but it is, as you see, only to force. Therefore
we protest; let the courts, let your governments, know it. We give way
to violence alone, and all we concede is null and void."

Galletti was then asked to propose his list of ministers, from which the
Pope indignantly struck out the name of the Neapolitan Salicetti, but
admitted without a word the names of Sterbini, Lunati, and Galletti.
Their appointment was signed on the spot, and the news being told to the
insurgents "they fired muskets in token of joy, and went off with hymns
for Italy and cheers for the Italian Constituent Assembly and the
democratic Ministry."

The next day the club desired that the Swiss should be deprived of their
arms and dismissed from the Quirinal; the Pope complied. The club then
asked that Galletti should be named general of the carbineers; and he
was appointed. "Such was the poltroonery or such the depravity of
consciences that no journal would or dared denounce the murder. But why
do I speak of denouncing? The murder was honored with illuminations and
festivities in numerous cities, and not in these States only, but beyond
them, especially at Leghorn." The Councils met on the 18th and 20th, but
not a word was said of the murder, and even a proposition for giving
assurance to the Pope "of the devotion and unalterable affection of the
Deputies" was voted down. Three of the Bolognese Deputies and a few
others then indignantly resigned their seats, and assigned their reasons
for this step in addresses to their constituents.

Early on the night of the 25th the Pope secretly left the Quirinal,
entered a carriage prepared for him by the wife of the Bavarian
ambassador, and went into exile from that city which, within two years
and a half, had worshipped, scorned, and assailed him.




(1848) THE REVOLUTION OF FEBRUARY IN FRANCE, Francois P.G. Guizot and
       Mme. Guizot de Witt


This outbreak marked one of the many transitions in French history,
leading to the establishment of the short-lived Second Republic, so soon
to be followed by the _coup d'etat_ of Louis Napoleon and the setting up
of the Second Empire. When France passed from the rule of the Bourbons,
represented by Charles X, to that of the Orleanists, in the hands of
Louis Philippe, the "Citizen King" (July, 1830), great hopes were
entertained by the constitutional party that this renewal of the
monarchy through the "July Revolution" would result in permanent
benefits. At first the new King enjoyed great popularity. In some
respects his government, compared with that of Charles X, was liberal,
and one of its early acts was an extension of the suffrage by decreasing
the amount of the property qualification for voters. The demand for
still further enlargement of popular rights became emphatic. The people
were divided mainly into three parties, and the difficulties confronting
the King were formidable. The Conservatives, who had placed him in
power, wished to prevent further changes in the State; the Moderates
asked for new reforms, especially for a still more extended suffrage;
the Radical party desired a republic.

The attitude of the Radicals caused Louis Philippe to halt in his
progressive policy. More than once his life was attempted, and in
consequence of such acts the liberty of the press and other privileges
were restricted. The greater part of the French people wished to have
the King intervene in behalf of Poland--which at that period was in a
state of almost chronic insurrection--as he had aided the Belgians
against Holland. In her Eastern policy France was defeated by the
Quadruple Alliance, formed by England, Prussia, Austria, and Russia, and
in consequence of this failure the King's prestige suffered. But the
question of extending the suffrage was kept always before the people,
and when the King refused to go further with that reform its advocates
urged their demands more strongly than ever. Lamartine founded a journal
in which he agitated for universal suffrage, and in this agitation many
other newspapers joined. Even Thiers, the leading statesman of the
Moderate party, asked for suffrage reform. Failing to control the
Legislative Assembly, the reformers at last appealed to the people. The
King, relying on his majority in the Assembly, was undisturbed by the
popular ferment.

Guizot, whose account of the "February Revolution" is here given, was
the chief minister of Louis Philippe; and however partisan the author's
narrative may seem, it rests upon an intimate knowledge of the events
recorded.

I come with profound repugnance and sorrow to those painful days by the
faults and misfortunes of which France was launched into dangerous
enterprises, such that men of the greatest foresight could not discern
their end. Our country has paid very dearly for the fatal error which
overthrew the throne of the King who had for eighteen years governed it
with a wisdom, prudence, and moderation acknowledged even by his enemies
when attacking him.

"The Cabinet of October 29, 1847, and its political friends, had a
clearly defined idea and purpose. They aspired to bring to a close the
French era of revolutions by establishing the free government which
France had in 1789 promised herself as the consequence and political
guarantee of the social revolution which she was completing." This
policy, formerly the object of their youthful hopes, had become theirs,
whether in power or in the opposition. "It was in fact both liberal and
antirevolutionary--antirevolutionary both in home and foreign affairs,
since it wished to maintain the peace of Europe abroad, and the
constitutional monarchy at home; liberal, since it fully accepted and
respected the essential conditions of free government; the decisive
intervention of the country in its affairs, with a constant and
well-sustained discussion, in public as well as in the Chambers, of the
ideas and acts of the Government. In fact, this twofold object was
attained from 1830 to 1848.

"Abroad, peace was maintained without any loss to the influence or
reputation of France in Europe. At home, from 1830 to 1848, political
liberty was great and powerful; from 1840 to 1848, in particular, it was
displayed without any new legal limit being imposed. It was this policy
that the opposition--all the oppositions, monarchical and dynastic as
well as republican--blindly or knowingly attacked, and tried to change.
It was to change it that they demanded electoral and parliamentary
reforms. In principle, the Government had no absolute or permanent
objections whatever to such reforms; the extension of the right of
suffrage, and the incompatibility of certain functions with the office
of Deputy, might and must be the natural and legitimate consequences of
the upward movement of society and political liberty. They did not think
the reforms necessary or well-timed, and were therefore justified in
delaying them as much as possible, provided they should one day allow to
be accomplished by others what they thought themselves still strong
enough to refuse." "We have too much and too long maintained a good
policy," said Guizot afterward.

A frequent and formidable sign that men's minds are secretly agitated is
the anxiety by which they are seized with reference to intrigues and
vices which they suppose around them. It would be a serious error to see
always a symptom of moral improvement in the clamors against electoral
or parliamentary corruption. Immediately after the ministerial success
in the general elections of 1846, this precursory indication of storms
appeared on the horizon. Guizot raised the question to its proper point
of view. "Leave to countries which are not free," said he, "leave to
absolute governments, that explanation of great results by small,
feeble, or dishonorable human acts. In free countries, when great
results are produced it is from great causes that they spring. A great
fact has been shown in the elections just completed; the country has
given its adhesion, its earnest and free adhesion, to the policy
presented before it. Do not attribute this fact to several pretended
electoral manoeuvres. You have no right to come to explain, or qualify
by wretched suppositions, a grand idea of the country thus grandly and
freely manifested." The rumors of electoral corruptions were soon
followed by rumors of parliamentary corruptions; but the majority of the
Chamber declared themselves "content" with the ministerial explanations.
The "Contents" figured in the opposition attacks by the side of the
"Pritchardists."

Several improper abuses of long standing existed in certain branches of
the Administration; some posts in the Treasury had been the object of
pecuniary transactions between those who held the posts and were
resigning, and the candidates who presented themselves to replace them.
A bill proposed on January 20, 1848, by Hebert, who had become keeper of
the seals, formally forbade any such transaction, under assigned
penalties. Several months previously (June, 1847) M. Teste, formerly
Minister of Public Works, and then president of the Cour de Cassation,
was seriously compromised in the scandalous trial of General Cubieres
and Pellapra. Convicted of having received a large sum of money in
connection with the mining concession, he was brought before the Peers,
and being led from question to question and from discussion to
discussion, soon made a confession of his crime. He, as well as his
accomplices, underwent the just penalty.

"It was, on the part of the Cabinet, one of those acts the merit of
which is only perceived afterward, and in which the Government bears the
weight of the evil at the moment when it is trying most sincerely and
courageously to repress it. There were several deplorable incidents--the
shocking murder of the Duchess of Praslin, some scandalous trials and
violent deaths following hard one upon another, and aggravating the
momentary depression and the excited state of the popular imagination.
The air seemed infected with moral disorder and unlooked-for
misfortunes, coming to join in party attacks and the false accusations
which the Cabinet were subjected to. It was one of those unhealthy
hurricanes often met in the lives of governments." It was certainly
culpable on the part of the opposition to try to take advantage of this
disturbed state of men's minds to gain the end they were pursuing. Seven
times was parliamentary reform, and three times was electoral reform,
refused by the Chambers, from February 20, 1841, to April 8, 1847; the
question being then displaced, it changed its ground. The opposition
made an appeal to popular passion; and parliamentary discussions were
succeeded by the banquets.

From the close of the session of 1847 to the opening of that of 1848
they kept France in a state of constant fever--an artificial and
deceptive fever in this sense, that it was not the natural and
spontaneous result of the actual wishes and wants of the country; but
true and serious in this sense, that the political parties who took the
initiative in it found among some of the middle classes and the lower
orders a prompt and keen adhesion to their proposals. The first banquet
took place in Paris at the Chateau-Rouge Hotel on July 9, 1847.
Garnier-Pages has himself told how the Royalist opposition and the
Republican opposition concluded their alliance for that purpose. On
leaving the house of Odilon Barrot, the Radical members of the meeting
walked together for some time. On reaching that part of the Boulevard
opposite the Foreign Office, at the moment they were about to separate,
Pagnerre said: "Well, really, I did not expect for our proposals so
speedy and complete success. Do those gentlemen see what that may lead
to? For my part, I confess I do not see it clearly; but it is not for us
Radicals to be alarmed about it."

"You see that tree," replied Garnier-Pages; "engrave on its bark a mark
in memory of this day, for what we have just decided upon is a
revolution." Garnier-Pages did not foresee that the Republic of 1848, as
well as the monarchy of 1830, should in its turn speedily perish in that
revolution, so long big with so many storms.

For six months banquets were renewed in most of the departments--at
Colmar, Strasburg, St. Quentin, Lille, Avesnes, Cosne, Chalons, Macon,
Lyons, Montpellier, Rouen, etc. In many parts there was a great display
of feelings and intentions most hostile to royalty and the dynasty. On
several occasions--at Lille, for example--the keenest members of the
parliamentary opposition, Odilon Barrot and his friends, withdrew, soon
after taking their places at table, because the others absolutely
refused to dissemble their hostility to the Crown and the King. At other
banquets, notably at Dijon, the ideas and passions of 1793 unblushingly
reappeared. They defended Robespierre and the Reign of Terror. The "Red
Republic" openly flaunted its colors and hopes. The attack upon monarchy
and the dynasty ranged itself, it is true, behind the parliamentary
opposition, but like Galatea running away:

  "_Et se cupit ante videri_."

It had succeeded well enough in making itself seen. The Government could
no longer shut their eyes. They had tolerated the banquets so long as
they could believe, or seem to believe, that the parliamentary
opposition directed, or at least ruled, the movement. When it became
evident that the anarchical impulse was more and more gaining upon the
parliamentary opposition, and that the latter was becoming the
instrument instead of remaining the master, then only they forbade the
banquets. It was their duty.

It was also their right, in the opinion of the most competent legal
authorities, as well as according to the recent practice of other free
governments, in presence of a situation full of certain danger. This
right, however, was disputed by the opposition. The Government, pushing
the principle of legality to its furthest limit, arranged with several
leading men of the opposition for the purpose of enabling the question
of right to be brought speedily and methodically before competent
tribunals. Just before the opening of the new session, in order to close
the campaign, a new and formal banquet was being prepared in Paris, to
which all the Deputies and Peers who had taken part in any of the
preceding banquets were to be invited. This manifestation was to take
place in the Twelfth Arrondissement of Paris. It was therefore agreed
between the opposition delegates and those of the ministerial majority
that the Deputies invited should go to the place appointed for the
meeting and take their places, so as to avoid any disturbance in the
streets or the hall, and that on the police commissary declaring that
there was an order against it the guests should protest and withdraw, to
lay the question before the tribunals. The agreement thus concluded was
communicated by Duchatel to the council, which approved of it.

Meanwhile the Chamber met, the session was opened, and from the very
first the Government could perceive a wavering in the majority. Even
among those who blamed and feared the agitation out-of-doors, several
believed in the urgent necessity of a concession to remove all pretext
for clamors and intrigues. On the ministers being informed of it Guizot
said: "Withdraw the question from the hands of those who now hold it,
and let it be brought back to the Chamber. Let the majority take a step
in the direction of the concessions indicated; however small it be, I am
certain it will be understood, and that you will have a new Cabinet,
which will do what you think necessary." It was in the same spirit that
the Ministry, during the discussion on the address, rejected an
amendment tending to impose upon them immediate engagements with
reference to reform.

"The maintenance of the unity of the Conservative party," said Guizot,
"the maintenance of conservative policy and power, will be the fixed
idea and rule of conduct in the Cabinet. They will make sincere efforts
to maintain or restore the unity of the Conservative party upon that
question, in order that it may be the Conservative party itself in its
entirety that undertakes and gives to the country its solution. If such
an operation in the midst of the Conservative party is possible, it will
take place. If that is not possible--if by the question of reforms the
Conservative party cannot succeed in making a common arrangement and
maintaining the power of the Conservative policy, the Cabinet will leave
to others the sad task of presiding over the disorganization of the
Conservative party and the ruin of its policy."

The question was not destined to be taken up again by the Chambers,
having escaped from the weak hands that aspired to direct it. The
courtesy of the Conservative reformers had no result except disquieting
the Government, a sort of precursory sign of the tempest. Even the
parliamentary opposition found themselves baffled in their prudent
efforts. A manifesto published in the _National_ newspaper organized a
noisy demonstration in the streets, though forbidden in the
banquet-hall, the National Guard being called to arms by the
insurrection, and their services arranged beforehand. The convention was
clearly violated, and the legal appeal to the tribunals therefore
abandoned: the Revolution itself declared it would decide the question.
In such a situation, sorrowfully admitted by those who had negotiated
the evening before, the Government officially forbade the banquet. The
evening papers announced that the Deputies of the opposition had given
up the intention of being present, and therefore the proposed
manifestation was deprived of all importance. The revolutionary leaders
in their turn declared that the banquet would not take place.

Disappointment increasing their irritation, the parliamentary
opposition, in a momentary resistance, employed the remainder of their
strength. On February 22d fifty-two Deputies of the Left laid before the
Chamber a bill of impeachment against the Ministry, on account of their
home and foreign policy during the whole course of their Administration.
"What would you have them do?" said to Guizot an old member of the
opposition who had no share whatever in this act. "They have just
rendered the banquet abortive by declaring they would not attend it, and
felt compelled to do something to compensate for and to some extent
redeem that refusal."

Weakness has a constraining power difficult to understand, which is not
foreseen even by those who give way to it; and of this the history of
the Revolution of 1848 offers an eloquent and melancholy example.

The King, as well as his ministers, still hoped that the crisis had
passed, and that the disorder avoided on the occasion of the banquet
should not reappear under any pretext. The display of military forces
which had been agreed upon and prepared was ordered to be suspended;
instructions to arrest the Republican leaders were issued slowly and in
but few instances. Yet a secret agitation was indicated in several parts
of the capital; there were numerous crowds; on the morning of the 23rd
several _corps-de-garde_ were attacked. As the fermentation increased,
the streets were crowded with idle workmen; people collected in knots
from curiosity, or stood at their doors. The storm was in the air,
evident both to those who dreaded it and those who were preparing to
make use of it.

Meanwhile the appeal of the revolutionary leaders to the National Guard
had been listened to. Many of the Parisian shopkeepers took part in the
"reform movement," without well understanding it, and marched under the
orders of their dangerous allies. Several detachments of the Seventh,
Third, Second, and Tenth Legions appeared in the streets, some in the
Faubourg St. Antoine, others marching to the Palais Royal, or the office
of the _National_ in the Rue le Peletier, and others in the students'
quarter shouting "Long live reform!" in every street. When General
Jacqueminot, the Commander-in-Chief of the National Guard, ordered a
general muster of the legions, a large number of the guards, respectable
and law-abiding men, did not answer to the summons. They had no desire
for a revolution or reform forced from the legal powers by insurrection,
but they shrunk from entering upon a struggle with soldiers wearing
their own uniform and influenced apparently by reasonable motives. They
remained in their homes dejected and anxious.

The King was as dejected as the Parisian citizens, and still more
anxious. For several months he had frequently fallen into very low
spirits, which was attributed to his grief at the death of his only
sister, Madame Adelaide of Orleans, whose life had been always
intimately associated with his, and who had just expired (December,
1847). His most intimate friends urged him to charm away the crisis by
changing his Ministry. He still resisted, but every hour less
vigorously. The Cabinet was not even informed of his perplexities.
"Concessions forced by violence from all the legal powers are not a
means of safety," said Duchatel; "one defeat would quickly bring a
second. In the Revolution there was not much time between that of June
20th and August 10th, and to-day things advance more quickly than in
those times. Events, like travellers, now go by steam."

The truth, however, was now becoming manifest, both in the King's mind
as to the tendency of his ideas, and in the eyes of his ministers as to
the determination now being formed in the palace. By the very statement
of the question it was resolved upon. Guizot and Duchatel thus expressed
it to the King: "It is for your Majesty to decide. The Cabinet is ready
either to defend to the last the King and conservative policy which we
profess, or to accept without a murmur the King's determination to call
other men to power. At present, more than ever, in order to continue the
struggle successfully, the Cabinet has need of the King's decided
support. As soon as the public should learn, as they inevitably must,
that the King hesitates, the Cabinet would lose all moral influence and
be unable to accomplish their task." The King seemed still in
perplexity, and said he should prefer to abdicate. "You cannot say that,
my dear," replied the Queen, who was present at the interview with the
Dukes of Nemours and Montpensier; "you belong to France, and not to
yourself."

"That is true," said the King, as Louis XVI had formerly said to
Malesherbes; "I am more unfortunate than the ministers, I cannot
resign." The ministers then in King Louis Philippe's Cabinet had not
resigned. The King, having made his decision, said, "It is with the
keenest regret that I separate myself from you, but necessity and the
safety of the monarchy demand this sacrifice. My will gives way; much
time will be needed to regain the ground I am about to lose." There were
tears in many eyes. The King sent for Mole, and Guizot himself announced
to the Chamber of Deputies the change of the Ministry.

There was much of astonishment and sorrow in the parliamentary majority,
always strongly attached to the leaders they had so long followed in
spite of occasional vagaries and good-natured weakness. The imminence of
a great danger engrossed their minds, together with the consciousness of
a great defeat. The anxiety of the Chambers was reechoed in the
Tuileries; and for the last time the ministers assembled there, anxious
at that last moment of their power to maintain order, now everywhere
threatened. Count Mole was laboriously occupied in the formation of a
cabinet. "To think that this resolution was formed in a quarter of an
hour!" exclaimed the King when engaged with Jayr in some administrative
details.

The excitement was great in the palace, but still greater in the
streets, being skilfully kept up by several insurrectionist leaders, and
spontaneously arising among the reckless portion of the populace, who
are easily influenced by revolutionary clamors. Increased by those
assembling from curiosity or idleness, the crowds in the squares and
boulevards assumed alarming proportions. All at once, opposite the
Foreign Office, there was heard, about nine o'clock in the evening, one
of those fatal explosions, whether accidental or premeditated, which
history often records as the origin of great popular risings.

The soldiers, who till then had remained motionless and patient, thought
they were attacked, and fired in their turn. Several persons fell, some
dead, others wounded, and some were knocked down and trodden under foot.
The greatest disorder, caused both by alarm and indignation, broke out
in the whole neighborhood. Then was the moment of action for the keen
and determined insurgents. A cart which happened to be there was
immediately loaded with the corpses and drawn through the streets, from
one newspaper office to another, in the most populous quarters, with
shouts of "Vengeance! To arms! Down with Guizot! The head of Guizot!" By
daybreak Paris was covered with barricades.

Mole having failed in his efforts to form a Cabinet, the King sent for
Thiers. For the last time he claimed the devotion of his old ministers.
"I must have immediately a military chief--an experienced chief," he
said. "I have sent for Bugeaud, but I wish M. Thiers to find him
appointed. Will you grant me this further service?" Duchatel, and
General Trezel, on the previous evening still Minister of War, signed
without hesitation Marshal Bugeaud's appointment as Commander-in-Chief
of the National Guard and the Army. It was three o'clock in the morning.
"It is somewhat late to set to work," said the Marshal; "but I have
never been beaten, and shall not make a beginning to-morrow. Let me act,
and fire the cannon; there will be some bloodshed, but to-morrow evening
the strength will be on the side of law, and the factious will have had
their account settled."

The day had not yet dawned when the Marshal was reviewing his forces. He
found them demoralized, having for sixty hours remained motionless
before the mob, with their feet in the mud, and their knapsacks on their
backs, allowing the rioters to attack the Municipal Guard, burn the
sentry-boxes, cut down the trees, break the street-lamps, and harangue
the soldiers. They were moreover badly supplied with provisions and
ammunition. The energetic language of their new commander, and the
precise orders which he gave for the march of the columns, inspired the
soldiers with fresh life and courage. The movements indicated had
already begun to be executed, and the troops were taking position; but
the crowds again filled the streets, and at several points the soldiers
were prevented from marching. One of the generals at the head of a
column sent to tell Bugeaud that he was face to face with an enormous
body of men, badly armed, who made no attack upon him, but only shouted,
"Long live reform! Long live the army! Down with Guizot!" "Order them to
disperse," replied the Marshal; "if they do not obey, use force, and act
with resolution."

There was no fighting on either side. The staff were besieged by the
entreaties of a crowd of respectable men, who in terror and
consternation conjured Bugeaud to withdraw the troops because they
excited the anger of the populace, and leave to the National Guard the
duty of appeasing the insurrection. The danger of such counsel was
obvious, and the Marshal paid no attention to it, till Thiers and Odilon
Barrot, who had just accepted office, came to the staff with the same
advice, and it therefore became an order. The Marshal at first refused
the ministers as he had done the citizens, and then the same order was
sent by the King. "I must have a government," the Marshal had recently
said; and, as he was now without the government, which thus relaxed the
resistance agreed upon, he in his turn gave way. His instructions for
retreat were thus given to his officers: "By order of the King and
ministers, you will fall back upon the Tuileries. Make your retreat with
an imposing attitude, and if you are attacked, turn round, take the
offensive, and act according to my instructions given this morning."

Meanwhile the formation of the Ministry was posted up everywhere. A
mixed crowd carried Odilon Barrot in triumph to the Home Office, which
Guizot and Duchatel had just left. Those round him shouted, "Long live
the father of the people!" but most of the notices posted up were torn.
At the moment when the new ministers were about to leave Bugeaud's staff
on horseback in order to pass through the city, Horace Vernet, the
artist, arrived out of breath. "Don't let M. Thiers go," said he to the
Marshal. "I have just passed through the mob, and they are so furious
against him that I am certain they would cut him in pieces!" Odilon
Barrot presented himself alone to the crowd, but was powerless to calm
the fury he had assisted in unchaining. "Thiers is no longer possible,
and I am scarcely so," said he on his return to the staff. The King on
one occasion showed himself in the court of the Tuileries, when
reviewing several battalions of the National Guard. There were some
shouts of "Long live the King!" but the most numerous were "Long live
reform! Down with Guizot!"

"You have the reform; and M. Guizot is no longer a minister!" said the
King; and on the shouts being again repeated, he returned to the palace.
The palace also was thronged with a confused crowd, animated by various
feelings and agitated by evident fears or secret hopes. Some urged the
King to abdicate in favor of the Comte de Paris; others vigorously
opposed such a relinquishment of power in presence of the insurrection.
The great mind of Queen Marie-Amelie was displayed in all the simplicity
of its heroism. "Mount on horseback, sire," said she, "and I shall give
you my blessing." She had recently urged the King to change his Cabinet;
a very kind message, intrusted for Guizot to one of his most intimate
friends, at the same time proved her regret.

The King sat at his writing-table, agitated and perplexed. He had begun
to write his abdication, when Marshal Bugeaud entered, having just
learned what was taking place in the Tuileries, and excited by the sound
of some shooting which had already begun. "It is too late, sire," said
he; "your abdication would complete the demoralization of the troops.
Your Majesty can hear the shooting. There is nothing left but to fight."
The Queen seconded this advice, and Piscatory and several others were of
the same opinion. The King rose without finishing his writing, and then
other voices were raised to insist upon the King's promise. He sat down
again, wrote and signed his abdication. By this time the troops had
received orders to fall back, and Marshal Gerard took the place of
Bugeaud as commandant-general. The columns were marched toward the
barracks, and there was no detachment around the Palais-Bourbon, where
the same disorder reigned, and the same efforts were made in vain.

The Duchesse d'Orleans presented herself before the Chamber of Deputies
as soon as the abdication of the King was known. The Duc de Nemours
accompanied her, leading the Comte de Paris by the hand; and the Duc de
Chartres, who was weak and ill, was wrapped up in a mantle and leaned on
Ary Scheffer's arm. Before joining the Princess at the gate of the
Chamber the Duc de Nemours had, with his brother the Duc de Montpensier,
seen the King, their father, take his melancholy departure, to escape
the insurrection, against which he could not make up his mind to use
force.

The Duchesse d'Orleans already knew that depriving the King of the crown
was not giving it to her son. Her natural courage, however, and her
maternal affection induced her to make every effort to secure the throne
for the prince of nine years whom the nation had already intrusted to
her keeping. She had seen the Tuileries invaded before leaving that hall
where her husband's portrait by Ingres seemed to preside over her son's
destinies. "It is here one ought to die," she said, when Dupin and
Grammont came to conduct her to the Chamber. Odilon Barret had gone to
bring her, and succeeded in finding her in the Palais-Bourbon. The crowd
showed sympathy for her, and made room respectfully, though she and her
small retinue had difficulty in getting within the palace, every passage
being crowded. The Duchess stood near the tribune holding her two boys
close to her. After Dupin announced the King's abdication, Barrot, after
presenting the legal instrument, asked the Chamber to proclaim at once
the young King and the regency of Madame la Duchesse d'Orleans.

Shouts of protest were heard on several benches. "It is too late!"
exclaimed Lamartine, as he went to the tribune, eager to urge this
difficulty, reject the regency, and demand a provisional government so
that the bloodshed might be stopped. Some others were already mentioning
the word "Republic." The crowd were gradually pouring into the Chamber
from the corriders, and Sauzet, the President, requested strangers to
withdraw, and made a special appeal to the Duchess herself. "Sir, this
is a royal sitting!" she replied; and when her friends urged her, "If I
leave this Chamber, my son will no more return to it." A few minutes
before her arrival, Thiers had entered the Chamber in the greatest
agitation. "The tide is rising, rising, rising!" he said to those who
crowded round him, and then disappeared. Several voices were heard
together in confusion; among the speakers were La Rochejacquelein,
Ledru-Rollin, Marie, and Berryer.

The Duchess had been conducted to a gallery, on account of the threats
of the insurgent battalions, who burst open the doors after General
Gourgaud had in vain tried to stop them. Armand Marrast, one of the
editors of the _National_, after looking at the invaders, said: "These
are the sham public; I shall call the real!" A few minutes afterward
shots were heard in the court of the palace; the posts in the hands of
the National Guard opened before the triumphant mob, who, after sacking
the Tuileries, hurried up against the expiring remnants of the monarchy.
The Duchesse d'Orleans had already twice offered to speak, but her voice
was drowned in the tumult. The newcomers, stained with blood and
blackened with gunpowder, with dishevelled hair and bare arms, climbed
on the benches, stairs, and galleries; and in every part were shouts of
"Down with the regency! Long live the Republic! Turn out the
'Contents'!" Sauzet put on his hat, but a workman knocked it off, and
then the President disappeared.

Several of the Deputies rushed to the gallery, where the Duchess was
still exposed to the looks and threats of the insurgents. "There is
nothing more to be done here, madam," they urged: "we must go to the
President's house, to form a new chamber." She took the arm of Jules de
Lasteyrie; and on her sons being separated from her in the narrow
passages, she showed the greatest anxiety, crying, "My boys! my boys!"
At one time the Comte de Paris was seized by a workman in a blouse; but
one of the National Guard took him out of his hands, and the child was
passed from one to another till he rejoined his mother. No one knew what
had become of the Duc de Chartres; but he was brought to the Invalides,
where the Princess went for refuge; and in the evening, after nightfall,
the mother and sons withdrew from Paris, and soon after from France.
"To-morrow, or ten years hence," said the Duchesse d'Orleans as she left
the Invalides, "a word, a sign will bring me back." Afterward in exile
she frequently said, "When the thought crosses my mind that I may never
again see France, I feel my heart breaking."

Wanderers and fugitives across their kingdom, after kneeling for the
last time beside the tomb of their children at Dreux, and asking the
hospitality of some friends who were still faithful, and without a
single attempt to recover the crown they had lost, King Louis Philippe
and Queen Marie-Amelie at last reached the seacoast, and set sail toward
England, that safe and well-known refuge of unfortunate princes.

Thunderstruck like them, and at their wits' end, the most faithful of
their servants and partisans waited for some sign authorizing them to
protest against the unparalleled surprise to which France had been
subjected. The fugitive King made no protest. His sons quietly followed
him into exile. Those who were serving France abroad learned at the same
time the news of their fall and the rise of a new power, and thought it
their duty to bow to the national will, resolving that not a single drop
of French blood should be shed in their cause.




(1848) REVOLUTIONARY MOVEMENTS IN GERMANY, C. Edmund Maurice


Popular demonstrations in various parts of Germany in the great
revolutionary year 1848 were no doubt partly due to the outbreaks in
France and elsewhere, but it is also apparent that discontent at home
had been long turning the people toward revolt. The agitation that began
in March--the month following the "February Revolution" and the
declaration of a republic in France--was the work of a patriotic party
that cherished not only aspirations for extending popular rights in the
several States, but also a prophetic desire for German unity.

The Congress of Vienna (1815) attempted to adjust the balance of power
in Europe. Some sort of union for the States was imperatively required
by the general situation, but there was fear of making Germany too
strong. The Congress created the German Confederation, constituted by a
union of independent States, under the hegemony or political headship of
Austria. This confederation (_bund_) lacked strength in the Central
Government, and although it reduced the number of States from more than
three hundred to thirty-nine, it still perpetuated elements of
unwieldiness and discord. At the head of the Austrian Government, as
chief minister of the Emperor Ferdinand I, was Metternich, who for many
years had been the great reactionary leader of Europe. He was compelled
now to face conditions such as, in his long and varied career of
statecraft and diplomacy, he never had confronted. Ferdinand himself,
always a weak ruler, succumbed to the revolution provoked by his
minister, whose downfall was followed by the Emperor's abdication
(December 2, 1848) in favor of his nephew, Francis Joseph, the present
ruler of Austria.

The most interesting of the German struggles of 1848 was that in Saxony.
Robert Blum [Footnote: Blum, born at Cologne in 1807, was a writer and
an agitator, leader of the Liberal party in Saxony. He was executed in
November, 1848.--ED.] was present at a ball in Leipsic when the news
arrived of the French revolution. He at once hastened to consult his
friends; and they agreed to act through the Town Council of Leipsic, and
sketched out the demands that they desired should be laid before the
King. These were: "A reorganization of the constitution of the German
Bund in the spirit and in accordance with the needs of the times, for
which the way is to be prepared by the unfettering of the press, and the
summoning of representatives of all German peoples to the Assembly of
the Bund." The Town Council adopted this address on March 1st, and sent
a deputation with it to Dresden; and, on the 3d, the people gathered to
meet the deputation on its return. The following is the account given by
the son of Robert Blum:

"By anonymous placards on the wall the population of Leipsic was
summoned on the evening of March 3d to meet at the railway station the
deputation returning from Dresden. Since the space was too narrow in
this place, the innumerable mass marched to the market-place, which, as
well as the neighboring streets, they completely filled. In perfect
silence the thousands awaited here the arrival of the deputation, which,
at last, toward nine o'clock, arrived and was greeted with unceasing
applause. Town Councillor Seeburg spoke first of the deep emotion of the
King; after him spoke Biedermann. But the crowd uproariously demanded
Robert Blum.

"At last Blum appeared on the balcony of the Town Council House. His
voice alone controlled the whole market-place, and was even heard in the
neighboring streets. He too sought, by trying to quiet them, to turn
them away from the subject of the address and of the King's answer. But
the people broke uproariously into his speech with the demand, 'The
answer! The answer!' It could no longer be concealed that the petitions
of the town had received harsh rejection. Then came a loud and
passionate murmur. The masses had firmly hoped that the deputation would
bring with them from Dresden the news of the dismissal of the hated
ministers.

"But Blum continued his speech, and they renewed their attention to him.
'In constitutional countries,' said he, 'it is not the King, but the
ministers who are responsible. They, too, bear the responsibility of the
rejection of the Leipsic proposals. The people must press for their
removal.' He added that he would bring forward in the next meeting of
the town representatives the proposal that the King should dismiss the
Ministry, 'which does not possess the confidence of the people.' Amid
shouts of exultation and applause, the appeased assembly dispersed."

Blum was as successful with his colleagues as with the crowd; and the
Town Council now demanded from the King the dismissal of his ministers,
the meeting of the Assembly, and freedom of the press. The King tried to
resist the last of these three proposals, pleading his duty to the Bund.
But even the Bundestag had felt the spirit of the times, and on March
1st had passed a resolution giving leave to every government to abolish
the censorship of the press. The King seemed to yield, and promised to
fulfil all that was wished; but the reactionary party in Dresden had
become alarmed at the action of the men of Leipsic; and so, on March
11th, when the men of Leipsic supposed that all was granted, General von
Carlowitz entered their city at the head of a strong force, and demanded
that the Town Council should abstain from exciting speeches; that the
Elocution Union should give up all political discussion; that the
processions of people should cease; and above all, that the march from
Leipsic to Dresden, which was believed to be then intended, should be
given up.

These demands were met by Blum with an indignant protest. "Five men,"
said he, "who manage the army cannot understand that, though their
bullets may kill men, they cannot make a single hole in the idea that
rules the world." The town councillors of Leipsic were equally firm.
Carlowitz abandoned his attempt as hopeless; and on March 13th the King
summoned a Liberal Ministry which abolished press censorship, granted
publicity of legal proceedings, trial by jury, and a wider basis for the
Saxon Parliament, and promised to assist in the reform of the Bund.

In the mean time the success of the French revolution had awakened new
hopes in Vienna. Soon after the arrival of the news, a placard appeared
on one of the city gates bearing the words: "In a month Prince
Metternich will be overthrown! Long live Constitutional Austria!"
Metternich himself was greatly alarmed, and began to listen to proposals
for extending the power of the Lower Austrian Estates. Yet he still
hoped by talking over and discussing these matters to delay the
execution of reforms till a more favorable turn in affairs should render
them either harmless or unnecessary.

But great as was the alarm caused by the South German risings, and great
as were the hopes which they kindled in the Viennese, the word that was
to give definiteness and importance to the impulses that were stirring
in Vienna could not come from Bavaria or Saxony. Much as they might wish
to connect themselves with a German movement, the Viennese could not get
rid of the fact that they were, for the present, bound up with a
different political system. Nor was it wholly clear that the German
movement was as yet completely successful. The King of Prussia seemed to
be meditating a reactionary policy and had even threatened to despatch
troops to put down the Saxon Liberals; and the King of Hanover also was
disposed to resist the movement for a German Parliament. It was from a
country more closely bound up with the Viennese Government, and yet
enjoying traditions of more deeply rooted liberty, that the utterance
was to come which was eventually to rouse the Viennese to action.

The readiness of the nobles to accept the purely verbal concession
offered by Metternich in the matter of the "Administrators" had shown
Kossuth [Footnote: Louis Kossuth, the famous leader of the Hungarian
insurrection of 1848, was at this time about forty-six years of age. The
sovereignty of Hungary had been in the hands of the Hapsburgs since
1687.--ED.] that there could be no further peace. But he still knew how
and when to strike the blow; and it was not by armed insurrection so
much as by the declaration of a policy that he shook the rule of
Metternich. On March 3d a Conservative member of the Presburg Assembly
brought forward a motion for inquiry into the Austrian bank-notes.
Kossuth answered that the confusion in the affairs of Austrian commerce
produced an evil effect on Hungarian finances; and he showed the need of
an independent Finance Ministry for Hungary. Then he went on to point
out that this same confusion extended to other parts of the monarchy.

"The actual cause of the breaking up of peace in the monarchy, and of
all the evils which may possibly follow from it, lies in the system of
government." He admitted that it was hard for those who had been brought
up under this system to consent to its destruction. "But," he went on,
"the people lasts forever, and we wish also that the country of the
people should last forever. Forever too should last the splendor of that
dynasty whose representatives we reckon as our rulers. In a few days the
men of the past will descend into their graves; but for that scion of
the House of Hapsburg who excites such great hopes, for the Archduke
Francis Joseph, who at his first coming forward earned the love of the
nation--for him there waits the inheritance of a splendid throne which
derives its strength from freedom. Toward a dynasty which bases itself
on the freedoms of its people's enthusiasm will always be roused; for it
is only the freeman who can be faithful from his heart; for a
bureaucracy there can be no enthusiasm."

He then urged that the future of the dynasty depended on the hearty
union between the nations which lived under it. "This union," he said,
"can be brought about only by respecting the nationalities, and by that
bond of constitutionalism which can produce a kindred feeling. The
bureau and the bayonet are miserable bonds." He then went on to
apologize for not examining the difficulties between Hungary and
Croatia. The solution of the difficulties of the empire would, he held,
solve the Croatian question too. If it did not, he promised to consider
that question with sympathy, and examine it in all its details. He
concluded by proposing an address to the Emperor which should point out
that it was the want of constitutional life in the whole empire which
hindered the progress of Hungary; and that, while an independent
government and a separate responsible ministry were absolutely essential
to Hungary, it was also necessary that the Emperor should surround his
throne, in all matters of the Government, with such constitutional
arrangements as were indispensably demanded by the needs of the time.

This utterance has been called the "Baptismal Speech of the Revolution."
Coming as it did directly after the news of the French revolution, it
gave a definiteness to the growing demands for freedom; but it did more
than this. Metternich had cherished a growing hope that the demand for
constitutional government in Vienna might be gradually used to crush out
the independent position of Hungary, by absorbing the Hungarians in a
common Austrian parliament; and he had looked upon a Croatian question
as a means for still further weakening the power of the Hungarian Diet.
Kossuth's speech struck a blow at these hopes by declaring that freedom
for any part of the empire could be obtained only by working for the
freedom of the whole; he swept aside for the moment those national and
provincial jealousies which were the great strength of the Austrian
despotism, and appealed to all the Liberals of the empire to unite
against the system which was oppressing them all. Had Kossuth remained
true to the faith which he proclaimed in this speech, it is within the
limits of probability that the whole Revolution of 1848-1849 might have
had a different result.

The Hungarian chancellor, Mailath, was so alarmed at Kossuth's speech
that he hindered the setting out of the deputation which was to have
presented the address to the Emperor. But he could not prevent the
speech from producing its effect. Although Presburg was only six hours'
journey from Vienna, the route had been made so difficult that the news
of anything done in the Hungarian Diet had hitherto reached Vienna in a
roundabout manner, and had sometimes been a week on its way.

The news of this speech, however, arrived on the very next day; and
Kossuth's friend Pulszky immediately translated it into German and
circulated it among the Viennese. A rumor of its contents had spread
before the actual speech. It was said that Kossuth had declared war
against the system of government, and that he had said state bankruptcy
was inevitable. But as the news became more definite the minds of the
Viennese fixed upon two points--the denunciation of the men of the past,
and the demand for a constitution for Austria. So alarmed did the
Government become at the effect of this speech that they undertook to
answer it in an official paper.

The writer of this answer called attention to the terrible scenes which
he said were being enacted in Paris, which proved according to him that
the only safety for the governed was in rallying round the government.
This utterance naturally excited only contempt and disgust; and the
ever-arriving news of new constitutions granted in Germany swelled the
enthusiasm which had been roused by Kossuth's speech.

The movement still centred in the professors of the University. On March
1st Doctor Loehner had proposed, at one of the meetings of the Reading
and Debating Society, that negotiations should be opened with the
Estates, and that they should be urged to declare their Assembly
permanent, the country in danger, and Metternich a public enemy. This
proposal marked a definite step in constitutional progress. The Estates
of Lower Austria, which met in Vienna, had indeed from time to time
expressed their opinions on certain public grievances; but these
opinions had been generally disregarded by Francis and Metternich; and,
though the latter had of late talked of enlarging the powers of the
Estates, he had evidently intended such words partly as mere talk in
order to delay any efficient action, and partly as a bid against the
concessions which had been made by the King of Prussia. That the leaders
of a popular movement should suggest an appeal to the Estates of Lower
Austria was therefore an unexpected sign of a desire to find any legal
centre for action, however weak in power, and however aristocratic that
centre might be.

Doctor Loehner's proposal, however, does not seem to have been generally
adopted; and, instead of the suggested appeal to the Estates, a
programme of eleven points was circulated by the debating society. When
we consider that the revolution broke out in less than a fortnight after
this petition, we cannot but be struck with the extreme moderation of
the demands now made. Most of the eleven points were concerned with
proposals for the removal either of forms of corruption, or of
restraints on personal liberty, and they were directed chiefly against
those interferences with the life and teaching of the universities which
were causing so much bitterness in Vienna. Such demands for
constitutional reforms as were contained in this programme were
certainly not of an alarming character. The petitioners asked that the
right of election to the Assembly of Estates should be extended to
citizens and peasants; that the deliberative powers of the Estates
should be enlarged; and that the whole empire should be represented in
an assembly, for which, however, the petitioners asked only a
consultative power. Perhaps the three demands in this petition which
would have excited the widest sympathy were those in favor of the
universal arming of the people, the universal right of petition, and the
abolition of the censorship.

The expression of desire for reform now became much more general and
even some members of the Estates prepared an appeal to their colleagues
against the bureaucratic system. But the character and tone of the
utterances of these new reformers somewhat weakened the effect which had
been produced by the bolder complaints of the earlier leaders of the
movement, for while the students of the University and some of their
professors still showed a desire for bold and independent action, the
merchants caught eagerly at the sympathy of the Archduke Francis
Charles, while the booksellers addressed to the Emperor a petition in
which servility passes into blasphemy.

These signs of weakness were no doubt observed by the Government; and it
was not wonderful that, under these circumstances, Metternich and
Kolowrat should have been able to persuade themselves that they could
still play with the Viennese, and put them off with promises which need
never be fulfilled. Archduke Louis alone seems to have foreseen the
coming storm, but was unable to persuade his colleagues to make military
preparations to meet it. In the mean time the movement among the
students was assuming more decided proportions; and their demands
related as usual to the great questions of freedom of speech, freedom of
the press, and freedom of teaching; and to these were added the demand
for popular representation, the justifications for which they drew from
Kossuth's speech of March 3d.

But, while Hungary supplied the model of constitutional government, the
hope for a wider national life connected itself more and more with the
idea of a united Germany. Two days after the delivery of Kossuth's
speech an impulse had been given to this latter feeling by the meeting
at Heidelberg of the leading supporters of German unity; and they had
elected a committee of seven to prepare the way for a constituent
assembly at Frankfort. Of these seven, two came from Baden, one from
Wurtemberg, one from Hesse-Darmstadt, one from Prussia, one from
Bavaria, and one from Frankfort. Thus it will be seen that South Germany
still kept the lead in the movement for German unity; and the president
of the committee was that Izstein, of Baden, who had been known to
Germany chiefly by his ill-timed expulsion from Berlin. But, though this
distribution of power augured ill for the relations between the leaders
of the German movement and the King of Prussia, the meeting at
Heidelberg was not prepared to adopt the complete programme of the Baden
leaders, nor to commit itself to that Republican movement which would
probably have repelled the North German Liberals.

The chief leader of the more moderate party in the meeting was Heinrich
von Gagern, the representative of Hesse-Darmstadt.

Gagern was the son of a former minister of the Grand Duke of Nassau, who
had left that State to take service in Austria, and who had acted with
the Archduke John in planning a popular rising in the Tyrol in 1813.
Heinrich had been trained at a military school in Munich. He had
steadily opposed the policy of Metternich, had done his best to induce
the universities to co-operate in a common German movement, and had
tried to secure internal liberties for Hesse-Darmstadt, while he had
urged his countrymen to look for the model of a free constitution rather
to England and Hungary than to France. During the constitutional
movement of 1848 he had become Prime Minister of Hesse-Darmstadt; and he
seems to have had considerable power of winning popular confidence.
Although he was not able to commit the meeting to a definitely
monarchical policy, he had influence enough to counteract the attempts
of Struve and Hecker to carry a proposal for the proclamation of a
republic; and his influence increased during the later phases of the
movement.

It was obvious that, in the state of Viennese feeling, a movement in
favor of German unity, at once so determined and so moderate in its
character, would give new impulse to the hopes for freedom already
excited by Kossuth's speech; and the action of the reformers now became
more vigorous because the students rather than the professors were
guiding the movement. Some of the latter, and particularly Professor
Hye, were beginning to be alarmed, and were attempting to hold their
pupils in check. This roused the distrust and suspicion of the students;
and it was with great difficulty that Professors Hye and Endlicher could
prevail on the younger leaders of the movement to abstain from action
until the professors had laid before the Emperor the desire of the
university for the removal of Metternich. This deputation waited on the
Emperor on March 12th, but it proved of little avail; and when the
professors returned with the answer that the Emperor would consider
their wishes, the students received them with laughter and resolved to
take the matter into their own hands. The next day was to be the opening
of the Assembly of the Estates of Lower Austria; and the students of
Vienna resolved to march from the University to the Landhaus.

In the great hall of the University, now hidden away in an obscure part
of Vienna but still retaining traces of the paintings which then
decorated it, the students gathered in large numbers on March 13th.
Various rumors of a discouraging kind had been circulated; this and that
leading citizen were mentioned as having been arrested; nay, it was even
said that members of the Estates had themselves been seized, and that
the sitting of the Assembly would not be allowed to take place. To these
rumors were added the warnings of the professors.

Fuester, who had recently preached on the duty of devotion to the cause
of the country, now endeavored, by praises of the Emperor, to check the
desire of the students for immediate action; but he was shouted down.

Hye then appealed to them to wait a few days, in hopes of a further
answer from the Emperor. They answered with a shout that they would not
wait an hour; and then they raised the cry of "Landhaus!" Breaking loose
from all further restraint they set out on their march, and as they went
numbers gathered round them. The people of Vienna had already been
appealed to, by a placard on St. Stephen's Church, to free the good
Emperor Ferdinand from his enemies; and the placard further declared
that he who wished for the rise of Austria must wish for the fall of the
present ministers of state.

The appeal produced its effect; and the crowd grew dense as the students
marched into the narrow Herren Gasse. They passed under the archway
which led into the courtyard of the Landhaus; there, in front of the
very building where the Assembly was sitting, they came to a dead halt;
and, with the strange hesitation which sometimes comes over crowds, no
man seemed to know what was next to be done. Suddenly in the pause which
followed, the words "_Meine Herren_" were heard from a corner of the
crowd. It was evident that some one was trying to address them; and the
students nearest to the speaker hoisted him upon their shoulders. Then
the crowd saw a quiet-looking man, with a round, strong head,
short-cropped hair, and a thick beard. Each man eagerly asked his
neighbor who this could be; and, as the speech proceeded, the news went
round that this was Doctor Fischhof, a man who had been very little
known beyond medical circles and hitherto looked upon as quite outside
political movements. Such was the speaker who now uttered what is still
remembered as the "first free word" in Vienna.

He began by dwelling on the importance of the day and on the need of
"encouraging the men who sit there," pointing to the Landhaus, "by our
appeal to them, of strengthening them by our adherence, and leading them
to the desired end by our cooeperation in action. He," exclaimed
Fischhof, "who has no courage on such a day as this is only fit for the
nursery." He then proceeded to dwell at some length on the need for
freedom of the press and trial by jury. Then, catching, as it were, the
note of Kossuth's speech of March 3d, he went on to speak of the
greatness which Austria might attain by combining together "the idealist
Germans, the steady, industrious, and persevering Slavs, the knightly
and enthusiastic Magyars, the clever and sharp-sighted Italians."
Finally he called upon them to demand freedom of the press, freedom of
religion, freedom of teaching and learning, a responsible ministry,
representation of the people, arming of the people, and connection with
Germany.

In the mean time the Estates were sitting within. They had gathered in
unusually large numbers, being persuaded by their President that they
were bound to resist the stream of opinion. Representatives as they were
of the privileged classes, they had little sympathy with the movement
that was going on in Vienna. Nor does it appear that there was anyone
among them who was disposed to play the part of a Confalonieri or
Szechenyi, much less of a Mirabeau or a Lafayette. Many of them had
heard rumors of the coming deputation; but Montecuccoli, their
President, refused to begin the proceedings before the regular hour.
While they were still debating this point they heard the rush of the
crowd outside; then the sudden silence, and then Fischhof's voice.
Several members were seized with a panic and desired to adjourn. Again
Montecuccoli refused to yield, and one of their Liberal members urged
them to take courage from the fact of this deputation to make stronger
demands on the Government.

But before the Assembly could decide to act the crowd outside had taken
sterner measures. The speakers who immediately followed Fischhof had
made little impression; then another doctor, named Goldmark, sprang up
and urged the people to break into the Landhaus. So, before the leaders
of the Estates had decided what action to take, the doors were suddenly
burst open, and Fischhof entered at the head of the crowd. He announced
that he had come to encourage the Estates in their deliberations, and to
ask them to sanction the demands embodied in the petition of the people.
Montecuccoli assured the deputation that the Emperor had already
promised to summon the Provincial Assemblies to Vienna, and that, for
their part, the Estates of Lower Austria were in favor of progress.
"But," he added, "they must have room and opportunity to deliberate."
Fischhof assented to this suggestion, and persuaded his followers to
withdraw to the courtyard. But those who had remained behind had been
seized with a fear of treachery, and a cry arose that Fischhof had been
arrested. Thereupon Fischhof showed himself, with Montecuccoli, on the
balcony; and the President promised that the Estates would send a
deputation of their own to the Emperor to express to him the wishes of
the people. He therefore invited the crowd to choose twelve men, to be
present at the deliberations of the Estates during the drawing up of the
petition. While the election of these twelve was still going on, a
Hungarian student appeared with the German translation of Kossuth's
speech. The Hungarian's voice being too weak to make itself heard, he
handed the speech to a Tyrolese student, who read it to the crowd. The
allusion to the need of a constitution was received with loud applause,
and so also was the expression of the hopes for good from the Archduke
Francis Joseph.

But however much the reading of the speech had encouraged the hopes of
the crowd, it had also given time for the Estates to decide on a course
without waiting for the twelve representatives of the people; and,
before the crowd had heard the end of Kossuth's speech the reading was
interrupted by a message from the Estates announcing the contents of
their proposed petition. The petition had shrunk to the meagre demand
that a report on the condition of the state bank should be laid before
the Estates, and that a committee should be chosen from Provincial
Assemblies to consider timely reforms and to take a share in
legislation.

The feeble character of the proposed compromise roused a storm of scorn
and rage; and a Moravian student tore the message of the Estates into
pieces. The conclusion of Kossuth's speech roused the people to still
further excitement; and, with cries for a free constitution, for union
with Germany, and against alliance with Russia, the crowd once more
broke into the Assembly.

One of the leading students then demanded of Montecuccoli whether this
was the whole of the petition they intended to send to the Emperor.
Montecuccoli answered that the Estates had been so disturbed in their
deliberations that they had not been able to come to a final decision.
But he declared that they desired to lay before the Emperor all the
wishes of the people.

Again the leaders of the crowd repeated, in slightly altered form, the
demands originally formulated by Fischhof. At last, after considerable
discussion, Montecuccoli was preparing to start for the Castle at the
head of the Estates when a regiment of soldiers arrived, but they were
unable to make their way through the crowd, and were even pressed back
out of the Herren Gasse.

The desire now arose for better protection for the people; and a
deputation tried to persuade the burgomaster of Vienna to call out the
City Guard. Czapka, the burgomaster, was, however, a mere tool of the
Government; and he declared that the Archduke Albert, as
Commander-in-Chief of the Army, had alone the power of calling out the
guard. The Archduke Albert was, perhaps next to Louis, the most
unpopular of the royal house. He indignantly refused to listen to any
demands of the people, and, hastening to the spot, rallied the soldiers
and led them to the open space at the corner of the Herren Gasse, which
is known as the "Freyung." The inner circle of Vienna was at this time
surrounded with walls, outside of which were the large suburbs in which
chiefly workmen lived.

The students seem already to have gained some sympathy with the workmen;
and for the previous two years the discontent caused by the sufferings
of the poorer classes had been taking a more directly political turn.
Several of the workmen had pressed in with the students in the morning
into the inner town, and some big men, with rough darned coats and dirty
caps over their ears, were seen clenching their fists for the fight. The
news quickly spread to the suburbs that the soldiers were about to
attack the people. Seizing long poles and any iron tools which came to
hand, the workmen rushed forward to the gates of the inner town. In one
district they found the town gates closed against them, and cannon
placed on the bastion near; but in others the authorities were
unprepared; and the workmen burst into the inner town, tearing down
stones and plaster to throw at the soldiers.

In the mean time the representatives of the Estates had reached the
Castle, and were trying to persuade the authorities to yield to the
demands of the people. Metternich persisted in believing that the whole
affair was moved by foreign influence, and particularly by Italians and
Swiss; and he desired that the soldiers should gather in the Castle, and
that Prince Windischgraetz should be appointed commandant of the city.
Alfred Windischgraetz was a Bohemian nobleman who had previously been
known chiefly for his strong aristocratic feeling, which he was said to
have embodied in the expression "Human beings begin at barons." But he
had been marked out by Metternich as a man of vigor and decision who
might be trusted to act in an emergency.

Latour, who had been the previous commandant of the Castle in Vienna,
showed signs of hesitation at this crisis; and this gave Metternich the
excuse for dismissing Latour and appointing Windischgraetz in his place.
To this arrangement all the ruling council consented; but, when Archduke
Louis and Metternich proposed to make Windischgraetz military dictator
of the city, and to allow him to bring out cannon for firing on the
people, great opposition arose. The Archduke John was perhaps one of the
few councillors who really sympathized with Liberal ideas; but several
of the Archdukes, and particularly Francis Charles, heartily desired the
fall of Metternich; and Kolowrat shared their wish. This combined
opposition of sincere reformers and jealous courtiers hindered
Metternich's policy; and it was decided that the City Guard should first
be called out, and that the dictatorship of Windischgraetz should be
kept in reserve as a last resource.

In the mean time the struggle on the streets was raging fiercely.
Archduke Albert had found to his cost that the insurrection was not, as
he had supposed, the work of a few discontented men. The students fought
gallantly; but a still fiercer element was contributed to the
insurrection by the workmen who had come in from the suburbs. One
workman was wounded in his head, his arm, and his foot; but he continued
to encourage his friends, and cried out that he cared nothing for life;
either he would die that day, or else "the high gentlemen should be
overthrown." Another who had had no food since the morning entreated for
a little refreshment that he might be able to fight the better; and he
quickly returned to the struggle. In those suburbs from which the
workmen had not been able to break into the inner town, the insurrection
threatened to assume the form of an attack on the employers. Machines
were destroyed, and the houses of those employers who had lowered wages
were set on fire.

It was this aspect of the insurrection which encouraged the nobles to
believe that, by calling out the guard, they would induce the richer
citizens to take arms against the workmen; and this policy was carried
still further when, on the application of the rector of the University,
the students also were allowed the privilege of bearing arms. But the
ruse entirely failed; the people recognized the City Guard as their
friends, and refused to attack them; and the rumor soon spread that the
police had fired on the City Guard. It was now evident that the citizen
soldiers were on the side of the people; and the richer citizens sent a
deputation to entreat that Metternich should be dismissed.

But the Archduke Maximilian was resolved that, as the first expedient
proposed by the Council had failed, he would now apply some of those
more violent remedies which had been postponed at first. He therefore
ordered that the cannon should be brought down from the Castle to the
Michaelerplatz. From this point the cannon would have commanded, on the
one side the Herren Gasse, where the crowd had gathered in the morning,
and in front the Kohlmarkt, which led to the wide street of Amgraben.
Had the cannon been fired then and there, the course of the insurrection
must, in one way or other, have been changed. That change might have
been as Maximilian hoped, the complete collapse of the insurrection; or,
as Latour held, the cannon might have swept away the last vestige of
loyalty to the Emperor, and the republic might have been instantly
proclaimed. But in any case the result must have been most disastrous to
the cause both of order and liberty; for the passions which had already
been roused, especially among the workmen, could hardly have failed to
produce one of those savage struggles which may overthrow one tyranny,
but which usually end in the establishment of another. Fortunately,
however, the Archduke Maximilian seems to have had no official authority
in this matter; and, when he gave the order to fire, the master-gunner,
a Bohemian named Pollett, declared that he would not obey the order,
unless it was given by the commander of the forces or the commander of
the town. The Archduke then appealed to the subordinates to fire, in
spite of this opposition; but Pollett placed himself in front of the
cannon and exclaimed: "The cannon are under my command; until there
comes an order from my commander, and until necessity obliges it, let no
one fire on friendly unarmed citizens. Only over my body shall you
fire." The Archduke retired in despair.

In the mean time the deputation of citizens had reached the Castle. At
first the officials were disposed to treat them angrily, and even tried
to detain them by force; but the news of the concession of arms to the
students, the urgent pressure of Archduke John, and the accounts of the
growing fury of the people finally decided Metternich to yield; and,
advancing into the room where the civic deputation was assembled, he
declared that as they had said his resignation would bring peace to
Austria he now resigned his office, and wished good luck to the new
government. Many of the royal family and of the other members of the
Council flattered themselves that they had got rid of a formidable enemy
without making any definite concession to the people. Windischgraetz
alone protested against the abandonment of Metternich by the rulers of
Austria.

Metternich had hoped to retire quietly to his own villa, but it had been
already burned in the insurrection; and he soon found that it was safer
to fly from Vienna and eventually to take refuge in England. He had,
however, one consolation in all his misfortunes. In the memoir written
four years later he expressed his certainty that he at least had done no
wrong, and that if he had to begin his career again, he would follow the
same course he took before, and would not deviate from it for an
instant.

When, at half-past eight in the evening of March 13th, men went through
the streets of Vienna, crying out "Metternich is fallen!" it seemed as
if the march of the students and the petition of Fischhof had produced
in one day all the results desired. But neither the suspicions of the
people nor the violent intentions of the princes were at an end. The
archdukes still talked of making Windischgraetz dictator of Vienna. The
workmen still raged in the suburbs; and the students refused to leave
the University for fear an attack should be made upon it. But in spite
of the violence of the workmen the leaders of the richer citizens were
more and more determined to make common cause with reformers. Indeed
both they and the students hoped to check the violence of the riots,
while they prevented any reactionary movement. The Emperor also was on
the side of concession. He refused to let the people be fired on, and
announced on the 14th the freedom of the press. But unfortunately he was
seized with one of his epileptic fits; and the intriguers, who were
already consolidating themselves into the secret council known as the
"Camarilla," published the news of Windischgraetz's dictatorship, and
resolved to place Vienna under a state of siege while the Emperor was
incapable of giving directions.

The news of Windischgraetz's accession to power so alarmed the people
that they at once decided to march upon the Castle; but one of the
leading citizens, named Arthaber, persuaded them to abandon their
intention, and instead to send him and another friend to ask for a
constitution from the Emperor. A struggle was evidently going on between
Ferdinand and his courtiers. Whenever he was strong and able to hold his
own, he was ready to make concessions. Whenever he was either ill or
still suffering from the mental effects of his illness, the Government
fell into the hands of Windischgraetz and the archdukes, and violent
measures were proposed.

Thus, though Arthaber and his friends were received courteously and
assured of the constitutional intentions of the Emperor, at eleven
o'clock on the same night there appeared a public notice declaring
Vienna in a state of siege. But even Windischgraetz seems to have been
somewhat frightened by the undaunted attitude of the people; and when he
found that his notice was torn down from the walls, and that a new
insurrection was about to break out, he sent for Professor Hye and
entreated him to preserve order. In the mean time the Emperor had to
some extent recovered his senses; and he speedily issued a promise to
summon the Estates of the German and Slavonic Provinces and the
congregations of Lombardo-Venetia.

But the people had had enough of sham constitutions; and the Emperor's
proclamation was torn down. This act, however, did not imply any
personal hostility to Ferdinand; for the belief that the Austrian
ministers were thwarting the good intentions of their master was as
deeply rooted at this time in the minds of the Viennese as was a similar
belief with regard to Pius IX and his cardinals in the minds of the
Romans; and when the Emperor drove out on March 15th, he was received
with loud cheers.

But as Ferdinand listened to these cheers he must have noticed that,
louder than the "_Es lebe der Kaiser_" of his German subjects and the
"_Slawa_" of the Bohemians, rose the sound of the Hungarian "_Eljen_."
For mingling in the crowd with the ordinary inhabitants of Vienna was
the Hungarian deputation, which had at last been permitted by the Count
Palatine to leave Presburg, and which had arrived in Vienna to demand
both freedoms that had been granted to the Germans and also a separate
responsible ministry for Hungary. They arrived in the full glory of
recent successes in the Presburg Diet; for, strengthened by the news of
the Viennese rising, Kossuth had carried, in one day, many of the
reforms for which his party had so long been contending. The last
remnants of the dependent condition of the peasantry had been swept
away; taxation had been made universal; and freedom of the press and
universal military service had been promised. Szechenyi alone had
ventured to raise a note of warning, and it had fallen unheeded.

In Vienna Kossuth was welcomed almost as cordially as in Presburg; for
the German movement in Vienna had tended to produce in its supporters a
willingness to lose the eastern half of the empire in order to obtain
the union of the western half with Germany. So the notes of Arndt's
"_Deutsches Vaterland_" were mingled with the cry of "_Batthyanyi Lajos,
Minister Praesident!_" Before such a combination as this, Ferdinand had
no desire, Windischgraetz no power, to maintain an obstinate resistance;
and, on March 16th, Sedlnitzky, the hated head of the police, was
dismissed from office. On the 18th a responsible ministry was appointed;
and on the 22d Windischgraetz announced that national affairs would now
be guided on the path of progress.

In the mean time that German movement from which the Viennese derived so
much of their impulse had been gaining a new accession of force in the
north of Germany. In Berlin the order of the Viennese movements had been
to some extent reversed. There the artisans, instead of taking their
tone from the students, had given the first impulse to reform. The King
indeed had begun his concessions by granting freedom of the press on
March 7th; but it seemed very unlikely that this concession would be
accompanied by any securities that would make it a reality. The King
even refused to fulfil his promise of summoning the Assembly; and it was
in consequence of this refusal that the artisans presented to the Town
Council of Berlin a petition for the redress of their special
grievances. The same kind of misery which prevailed in Vienna had shown
itself, though in less degree, in Berlin; and committees had been formed
for the relief of the poor. The Town Council refused to present the
petition of the workmen, and, in order to take the movement out of their
hands, presented a petition of their own in favor of freedom of the
press, trial by jury, representation of the German people in the
Bundestag, and the summoning of all the Provincial Assemblies of the
kingdom. This petition was rejected by the King; and thereupon, on March
13th, the people gathered in large numbers in the streets. General Pfuel
fired on them; but instead of yielding, they threw up barricades, and a
fierce struggle ensued.

On the 14th the cry for complete freedom of the press became louder and
more prominent; and the insurgents were encouraged by the first news of
the Vienna rising. The other parts of the kingdom now joined in the
movement. On the 14th came deputations from the Rhine Province, who
demanded in a threatening manner the extension of popular liberties. On
the 16th came the more important news that Posen and Silesia were in
revolt. Mieroslawsky, who had been one of the leaders of the Polish
movement of 1846, had gained much popularity in Berlin; and he seemed
fully disposed to combine the movement for the independence of Posen
with that for the freedom of Prussia, much in the same way as Kossuth
had combined the cause of Hungarian liberty with the demand for an
Austrian constitution. In Silesia, no doubt, the terrible famine of the
previous year, and the remains of feudal oppression, had sharpened the
desire for liberty; and closely following on the news of these two
revolts came clearer accounts of the Viennese rising and the happy
tidings of the fall of Metternich.

The King of Prussia promised, on the arrival of this news, to summon the
Assembly for April 2d; and two days later he appeared on the balcony of
his palace and declared his desire to change Germany from an alliance of
states into a federal state.

But the suspicions of the people had now been thoroughly aroused; and on
March 18th, the very day on which the King made this declaration, fresh
deputations came to demand liberties from him; and when he appealed to
them to go home his request was not complied with. The threatening
attitude of the soldiers, and the recollection of their violence on the
preceding days, had convinced the people that until part at least of the
military force was removed they could have no security for liberty.

The events of the day justified their belief; for, while some one was
reading aloud to the people the account of the concessions recently made
by the King, the soldiers suddenly fired upon them, and the crowd fled
in every direction. They fled, however, soon to rally again; barricades
were once more thrown up; the Poles of Posen flocked in to help their
friends, and the black, red, and gold flag of Germany was displayed.
Women joined the fight at the barricades; and on the 19th some of the
riflemen whom the King had brought from Neuchatel refused to fire upon
the people. Then the King suddenly yielded, dismissed his ministers, and
promised to withdraw the troops and allow the arming of the people.

The victory of the popular cause seemed now complete; but the bitterness
which still remained in the hearts of the citizens was shown by a public
funeral procession through Berlin in honor of those who had fallen in
the struggle. The King stood bare-headed on the balcony as the
procession passed the palace; and on March 21st he came forward in
public waving the black, red, and gold flag of Germany.




(1848) THE REVOLT OF HUNGARY, Arminius Vambery


Deep interest throughout the civilized world was aroused by the
unavailing struggle of Hungary, in 1848, for national independence. The
name of Louis Kossuth, the Hungarian patriot and famous orator, became
celebrated in many lands; and in the various countries where he
sojourned as an exile from his own--especially in the United States
(1851-1852) and in England--his eloquent appeals awakened profound
sympathy for his people's cause. Vambery, however, regards Kossuth's
compatriot, Count Stephen Szechenyi (born in 1791) as "the greatest
Hungarian of the nineteenth century." He was descended from a
distinguished family, which had given to its country many champions of
liberty. The great aim of his life was to revive the drooping energies
of the nation. As a youth he served in the army. Entering the famous
Diet of 1825, in which, by right of birth, he took his seat in the Upper
House, he distinguished himself by his liberal leadership, and as a
writer and an advocate of public endowments accomplished much for the
education of his people.

Up to the time at which Vambery, the celebrated historian of Hungary,
begins the present narrative, the growth of the national spirit had been
more and more evident each year since the end of the Napoleonic wars.
For more than two centuries Hungary had been under the oppressive rule
of Austria. Hungary had furnished soldiers to Austria in her struggle
against Bonaparte, and the Austrian Emperor had repeatedly promised to
redress Hungarian grievances; but after the fall of Napoleon these
promises were repudiated. Hungary so emphatically showed her indignation
that the Emperor was compelled to convoke the Diet in which Szechenyi
distinguished himself. The subsequent career of this leader, the
character and aims of Kossuth, and the insurrection they did so much to
incite are powerfully described by Vambery, who writes not only as an
author fully versed in his country's annals, but also as a patriot
jealous of her liberties, proud of her heroic sons, and loyal to her
fame.

For fifteen years, up to 1840, the popularity of Szechenyi extended over
Hungary, and his name was cherished by every patriot in the land. About
this time, however, the great statesman was destined to come into
collision with a man who was his peer in genius and abilities. The two
patriots were representatives of different methods, and in the contest
produced by the shock of antagonistic tendencies Szechenyi was compelled
to yield to Louis Kossuth, his younger rival. Although there was no
material difference between their aims--for both wished to see their
country great, free, constitutionally governed, prosperous, and advanced
in civilization--yet in the ways and means employed by them to attain
that aim they were diametrically opposed to each other.

Szechenyi, who descended from a family of ancient and aristocratic
lineage, and presented himself to the nation with connections reaching
up into the highest circles of the court, with the lustre of his ancient
name, and with his immense fortune, wished to secure the happiness of
his country by quite different methods from those adopted by Louis
Kossuth, a child of the people, who, although he was a nobleman by
birth, yet belonged to that poorer class of gentry who support
themselves by their own exertions, and who, in Hungary, are destined to
fulfil the mission of the citizen-classes of other countries. It is from
this class of the gentry, for the most part, that are recruited the
trades-people, the smaller landowners, professional men, writers,
subordinate officials, lawyers, physicians, clergymen, teachers, and
professors. By virtue of their nobility, it is true, they belonged to
the privileged class of the country, and were not subjected to the
humiliations of the oppressed peasantry, yet they had to earn a living
by their own work, and were therefore not only accessible to, but were
ready enthusiastically to receive, the lofty message of liberty and
equality which the French Revolution of 1830 began to proclaim anew
throughout Europe.

These doctrines formed a sharp contrast to the views of Count Stephen
Szechenyi, views which, owing to the social position of the man who held
them, were not devoid of a certain aristocratic tinge, and according to
which the most important part in the regeneration of the Hungarian
nation was assigned to the aristocracy. It was a part, however, which
the Hungarian aristocracy was itself by no means disposed to assume.
Among its younger members, indeed, could be found, here and there,
enthusiastic men who were devotedly attached to the person of the lordly
reformer, but the great majority of his class were hostilely arrayed
against Szechenyi's aims, and, obstructing the granting of even the most
inoffensive demands of the nation, supported the Viennese Government;
which was rigidly opposed to political reforms and to any changes in the
public institutions of the country. This attitude of the aristocracy
compelled Szechenyi to avoid as much as possible all questions
concerning constitutionality and liberty, and to confine the work of
reform chiefly to the sphere of internal improvements.

The only way in which he could hope to obtain the support of the court
of Vienna and of the majority of the Upper House for his
politico-economical measures, was to remain as neutral as possible in
politics. The idea which chiefly governed his actions was that the
country should be first strengthened internally, and that afterward it
would be easy for the nation to bring about the triumph of her national
and political aspirations.

After 1840, however, the bulk of the nation, and especially the small
gentry whose preponderating influence was making itself continually
felt, were unwilling to follow Szechenyi in his one-sided policy. The
reformatory work of Szechenyi during the preceding fifteen years had
educated public opinion up to new and great ideas, but the leaders of
that public opinion were now to be found in the House of Representatives
in the persons of Francis Deak and Louis Kossuth. They wished to obtain
for their country both political liberty and material prosperity. They
knew the effect of political institutions upon the material well-being
and civilization of a nation, and they no longer deemed it possible to
attain these objects without a modern constitutional government.

Louis Kossuth, who was born in 1802, was the very incarnation of the
great democratic ideas of his age. He was entirely a man of work and
entered the legal profession, after he had completed his studies with
great distinction, for the purpose of supporting himself by it. Kossuth
was present at the Diet of 1832, when the Government, which conducted
itself most brutally and arbitrarily toward the press, refused to allow
the newspapers to print reports of the deliberations of the Diet in
spite of the repeated urgings by the Deputies for such an authorization,
and it was owing to his ingenuity that this prohibition was evaded. The
censorship was exercised on printed matter only and did not extend to
manuscripts. Kossuth wrote out the reports of the Diet himself, had
numerous copies made of them in writing, and circulated them, for a
slight fee, in every part of the country, where they were looked for
with feverish expectation, and, owing to the spirit of opposition with
which they were colored, were read with the greatest eagerness.

This manuscript newspaper produced quite a revolutionary movement among
the people, frightening even the Austrian Government. The latter now
attempted to silence Kossuth by gentle means, promising him high offices
and a pension, but he refused the enticing offers and continued his work
for the benefit of the nation. Foiled in the attempt to lure Kossuth
from his duty, the Government resorted to violence, seized the
lithographic apparatus by means of which Kossuth planned to multiply his
manuscript newspaper, and gave directions to the postmasters to detain
and open all those sealed packages which were supposed to contain the
reports. But these arbitrary proceedings of the Government could not put
an end to the circulation of the newspaper; the country gentlemen, by
their own servants, continued to send each other single copies, and the
matter was given up only when the Diet ceased to be in session.

Then Kossuth, at the urgent request of his friends and, one might say,
of the whole country, started a new manuscript newspaper at Budapest,
which reported the deliberations of the county assemblies. The effect
produced by this new paper was fraught with even greater consequences
than the first had created, for it was instrumental in bringing the
counties into contact with one another, thus giving them an opportunity
to combine against the Government. The latter, however, soon prohibited
its publication, but the prohibition gave rise to a storm of indignation
throughout the whole country. The counties in solid array addressed
protests to the Government against the illegal act and in behalf of
Kossuth, who continued to publish the paper in spite of the inhibition.
The Government at last resorted to the most barefaced brutality.
Kossuth, the brave champion of liberty, its eloquent pen and herald, was
dragged to a damp and dark subterranean prison-cell in the castle of
Buda, and detained there, while his father and mother and his family,
who were looking to him solely for their support, were robbed of the aid
of their natural protector.

Although at that period lawlessness was the order of the day, yet this
last cruel and illegal act of the Government greatly exasperated the
public mind, which was already in a ferment of excitement. But while the
excited passions raged throughout the country, the Government, nothing
loth, caused Kossuth to be prosecuted for high treason, and, having
obtained his conviction, had him sentenced to an imprisonment of three
years. Kossuth applied himself during his detention to serious studies,
and acquired also, while in prison, the English language to such an
extent that he was enabled to address in that language, during his
exile, with great effect and impressiveness, large audiences both in
England and in the United States of America. His imprisonment lasted two
long years, after the lapse of which he obtained, in 1840, a pardon in
consequence of the repeated and urgent representations of the Diet.

Kossuth returned to the scene of his former activity as the martyr of
free speech and the victim to the cause of the nation. He very soon
found a new field in which to labor. The Government perceived at last
that violence was of little avail, and that those questions which were
occupying the minds to such a degree could no longer be kept from being
publicly discussed by the press. Kossuth now obtained permission to edit
a political daily paper. Its publication was commenced under the title
of _Pesti Hirlap_ ("Newspaper of Pest") in 1841, and may be said to have
created the political daily press of Hungary. It disseminated new ideas
among the masses, stirred up the indifferent to feel an interest in the
affairs of the country, and gave a purpose to the national aspirations.
It proclaimed democratic reforms in every department; the abolition of
the privileges of the nobility and of their exemption from taxation,
equal rights and equal burdens for all the citizens of the State, and
the extension of public instruction, and it endeavored to restore the
Hungarian nationality to the place it was entitled to claim in the
organism of the State.

The wealth of ideas thus daily communicated to the country appeared in
the most attractive garb, for Kossuth possessed a masterly style, and
his leaders and shorter articles showed off to advantage so many
unexpected beauties of the Hungarian language that his readers were
fairly enchanted and carried away by them. His articles were a happy
compound of poetical elevation and oratorical power, gratifying
common-sense and the imagination at the same time, appealing by their
lucid exposition to the reader's intelligence, and exciting and warming
his fancy by their fervor. Kossuth always rightly guessed what questions
most interested the nation, and the daily press became, in his hands, a
power in Hungary, electrifying the masses, who were always ready to give
their unconditional support to his bold and far-reaching schemes.

The extraordinary influence obtained by Kossuth through his paper
frightened Szechenyi, and, to even a greater degree, those whose
prejudices were shocked or ancient privileges and interests were
endangered by the democratic agitations for reform. Kossuth was attacked
in books, pamphlets, and newspapers, but he came out victorious from all
contests. In vain did Szechenyi himself, backed by his great authority
in the land, assail him, declaring that he did not object to Kossuth's
ideas, but that his manner and his tactics were reprehensible, and that
the latter were sure to lead to a revolution. The great mass of the
people felt instinctively that revolution had become a necessity and was
unavoidable if Hungary was to pass from the old mediaeval order to the
establishment of modern institutions and was to become a state where
equality before the law should be the ruling standard. The masses were
strengthened in this conviction by the unreasonable, short-sighted, and
violent policy pursued by the Government of Vienna, which obstructed the
slightest reforms in the ancient institutions and opposed every national
aspiration, and under whose protecting wing the reactionary elements of
the Upper House were constantly paralyzing the noblest and best efforts
made by the Lower House for the public weal, while the same Government
arbitrarily supported claims of the Catholic clergy, in flat
contradiction to the rights and liberties of the various denominations
inhabiting the country.

The Government, in its antipathy to the national movement, went even
further. It secretly incited the other nationalities, especially the
Croats, against the Hungarians, and thus planted the seeds from which
sprang the subsequent great civil war. In observing the dangerous
symptoms preceding the last-mentioned movement, and the bloody scenes
and fights provoked at every election by the hirelings of the
Government, in order to intimidate the adherents of reform, the friends
of progress became more and more convinced that the period of
moderation, such as preached by Szechenyi, had passed by, and must give
way to that resolute policy, advocated by Kossuth, which recoiled from
no consequences. Numerous magnates, all the chief leaders of the gentry
boasting of enlightenment and patriotism, and imbued with European
culture, rallied around Kossuth, until finally the public opinion of the
country and the enthusiasm of which he was the centre caused him to be
returned, in 1847, together with Count Louis Batthyanyi, as Deputy from
the foremost county of the country, the county of Pest.

During the first months of the Diet of 1847-1848, which was to raise
Hungary to the rank of those countries that proclaimed equal rights and
possessed a responsible parliamentary government, it differed very
little from the one preceding it. The opposition initiated great
reforms, as before, but there was no one who believed that their
realization was near at hand. Kossuth repeatedly addressed the House,
and soon convinced his audience that he was as irresistible an orator as
he had proved powerful as a writer. But there was nothing to indicate
that the country was on the eve of a great transformation.

The revolution of February, 1848, which broke out in Paris, changed, as
if by magic, the relative positions of Austria and Hungary. Metternich's
system of government, which was opposed to granting liberty to the
people, collapsed at once. The storm of popular indignation swept it
away like a house built of cards. At the first news of the occurrences
in Paris, Kossuth asked in the Lower House for the creation of a
responsible ministry. The motion was favorably received, but in the
Upper House it was rejected, the Government not being yet alive to the
real state of affairs, and still hoping by a system of negation to
frustrate the wishes of the people. But very soon the revolution reared
its head in Vienna itself, and the wishes of the Hungarian people,
uttered at Budapest, received thereby a new and powerful advocate.

At that time the Hungarian Diet still met at Presburg, but the two
sister-cities of Buda and Pest formed the real capital of the country
and were the centre of commerce, industry, science, and literature.
Michael Vorosmarty, the poet laureate of the nation, lived in Pest, and
there the twin stars of literature, Alexander Petofi and Maurice Jokai,
shone on the national horizon. Jokai, who is still living (1886) and
enjoys a world-wide fame as a novelist, and Petofi, the eminent poet,
who was destined to become the Tyrtaeus of his nation, were then both
young men, full of enthusiasm and intrepid energy, and teeming with
great ideas.

About these two gathered the other writers and youth of the University,
and all of them, helping one another, contrived, on hearing the news of
the sudden revolutions in Paris and Vienna, to enact in Budapest the
bloodless revolution of March 15, 1848, which obtained the liberty of
the press for the nation, and at the same time, in a solemn manifesto,
gave expression to the wishes of the Hungarians in the matter of reform.
The only act of violence these revolutionary heroes were guilty of was
the entering of a printing establishment, whose proprietor, afraid of
the Government, had refused to print the admirable poem of Petofi
entitled _Talpra Magyar_ ("Up, Magyar"), and doing the printing there
themselves. The first stanza of this poem, later the war-song of the
national movement, runs, in a literal translation, thus:

  "Arise, O Magyar! thy country calls.
   Here is the time, now or never.
   Shall we be slaves or free?
   That is the question--choose!
   We swear by the God of the Magyars,
   We swear, to be slaves no longer!"

This soul-stirring poem was improvised by Petofi under the inspiration
of the moment, and at the same establishment where it was first printed
was also printed a proclamation which contained twelve articles setting
forth the wishes of the people.

While the capital was resounding with the rejoicings and triumphant
shouts of her exulting inhabitants, the proper department of the
Government for the carrying through of these movements, the Diet,
assembled at Presburg, lost no time, and set to work with great energy
to reform the institutions of Hungary, constitutionally, and to put into
the form of law the ideas of liberty, equality, and fraternity. The
salutary legislation met now with no opposition, either from the Upper
House or from the court at Vienna, and in a short time the Diet passed
the celebrated acts of 1848, which, having received the royal sanction,
were proclaimed as laws on April 11th, at Presburg, amid the wildest
enthusiasm, in the presence of King Ferdinand V.

By these laws Hungary became a modern state, possessing a constitutional
government. The Government was vested in a ministry responsible to the
Parliament, all the inhabitants of the country were declared equal
before the law, the privileges of the nobility were abolished, the soil
was declared free, and the right of free worship accorded to all. The
institution of national guards was introduced, the utmost liberty of the
press was secured, Transylvania became a part of the mother-country--in
a word, the national and political condition of the country was
reorganized, in every particular, in harmony with the spirit, the
demands, and aspirations of our age. At the same time the men placed at
the head of the Government were such as possessed the fullest confidence
of the people. The first ministry was composed of the most distinguished
patriots. Count Louis Batthyanyi was the President; and acting in
conjunction with him were Francis Deak, as Minister of Justice; Count
Stephen Szechenyi, as Minister of Home Affairs; and Louis Kossuth, as
Minister of Finance.

The great mass of the people hailed with boundless enthusiasm the new
Government and the magnificent reforms. The transformation, however, had
been so sudden and unexpected, and the old aristocratic world, with all
its institutions and its ancient organization, had been swept away with
such vehement precipitation that even under ordinary circumstances, in
the absence of all opposition, the new ideas and tendencies could have
hardly entered into the political life of the nation without causing
some confusion and disorder. But, in addition to these natural
drawbacks, the new order of things had to contend with certain national
elements in the population, which, feeling themselves injured in their
real or imaginary interests, were bent on mischief, hoping to be able to
rob the nation, in the midst of the ensuing troubles, of the great
political prize she had won. Certain circles of the court and classes of
the people strove equally hard to surround with difficulties the
practical introduction of the Constitution of 1848.

The court and the standing army, the party of the soldier class, feared
that their commanding position would be impaired by the predominating
influence of the people. The non-Hungarian portion of the inhabitants,
choosing to ignore the fact that the new laws secured, without
distinction of nationality, equal rights to every citizen of the State,
were apprehensive lest the liberal constitution would benefit chiefly
the Hungarian element of the nation. They, therefore, encouraged by the
secret machinations of the Government of Vienna, took up arms, in order
to drag the country, which was preparing to take possession of her new
liberties, into a civil war. The Croatians, under the lead of Ban
Jellachich, and the Wallachs and Serbs, led by other imperial officers,
and yielding to their persuasions, rose in rebellion against Hungary,
and began to persecute, plunder, and murder the Hungarians living among
them.

Dreadful atrocities were committed in the southern and eastern portions
of Hungary, hundreds and hundreds of families were massacred in cold
blood, and entire villages and cities were deserted by their
inhabitants, just as had previously happened at the approach of the
Turks, and thousands were compelled to abandon their all to the rebels,
in order to escape with their bare lives. In the course of a few weeks,
the flames of rebellion had spread over a large part of the country, and
the Hungarian element, instead of enjoying the liberties won for the
whole nation after a bitter struggle of many decades, was under the sad
necessity of resorting to armed force in order to reestablish the
internal peace. The Hungarians now had to prove on the battlefield and
in bloody engagements that they were worthy of liberty and capable of
defending it.

The Government, which, by virtue of the new laws, had meanwhile
transferred its seat to Budapest, displayed extraordinary energy in the
face of the sad difficulties besetting it. As it was impossible to rely
upon the Austrian soldiers who were still in the country, it exerted
itself to create and to organize a national army. A portion of the
National Guard entered the national army under the name of _honveds_
("defenders of the country"), a name which became before long famous
throughout the civilized world for the brilliant military achievements
connected with it. The Hungarian soldiers garrisoning the Austrian
principalities hastened home, braving the greatest dangers, partly
accompanied by their officers and partly without them. The famous
Hungarian hussars, especially, returned in great number to offer their
services to their imperilled country. But all this proved insufficient,
and as soon as the National Assembly, elected under the new
constitution, met, Kossuth, who had been the life and soul of the
Government during this trying and critical period, called upon the
nation to raise large armies for the defence of the country.

The session of July 11th, during which Kossuth introduced in the House
of Representatives his motions relating to the subject, presented a
scene which beggars all description. Kossuth ascended the tribune pale
and haggard with illness, but the long-continued applause that greeted
him after the first few sentences soon gave him back his strength and
his marvellous oratorical power. When he had concluded his speech and
submitted to the House his request for two hundred thousand soldiers and
the necessary money, a momentary pause of deep silence ensued. Suddenly
Paul Nyary, the leader of the opposition, arose, and lifting his right
arm toward heaven, exclaimed: "We grant it!" The House was in a fever of
patriotic excitement; all the Deputies rose from their seats, shouting,
"We grant it; we grant it!" Kossuth, with tears in his eyes, bowed to
the representatives of the people and said, "You have risen like one
man, and I bow down before the greatness of the nation."

These sacrifices on the part of the country had become a matter of
urgent necessity. The Serb and Wallach insurrection assumed every day
larger proportions, while the Croats, under the leadership of
Jellachich, entered Hungarian territory with the fixed determination of
depriving the nation of her constitutional liberties. But the Hungarian
Government was already able to send an army against the Croatians, who
were marching on Budapest, plundering and laying waste everything before
them. They were surrounded by the Hungarian forces, and a part of their
army, nine thousand men strong, was compelled to lay down its arms,
while Jellachich, with his remaining forces, precipitately fled from the
country. The young Hungarian army had thus proved itself equal to the
task of repelling the attack of the Croats, but the recent events were
nevertheless fraught with the gravest consequences.

The news of the Croatian invasion filled the Hungarians with deep
anxiety, and the extraordinary excitement caused by it cast a permanent
cloud over the soul of that great and noble man, Count Szechenyi. The
mind of the great patriot who had initiated the national movement gave
way under the strain of the frightful rumors coming from the Croatian
frontier. He had been ailing for some time, and his nervousness
increased so greatly under the pressure of the great events following
one another in rapid succession, that when the news came that the enemy
had invaded the country he thought Hungary was lost. His despair
darkened his mind and he sought death in the waves of the Danube. His
family removed him to a private asylum near Vienna, where he recovered
his mental faculties, and even wrote several books. But he was never
entirely cured of his hallucination, and, exasperated by the vexations
he was subjected to by the Viennese Government, even in the asylum, the
great patriot put an end to his own life on April 8, 1860, by a
pistol-shot.

Jellachich's incursion had other important political consequences. The
attack on Hungary had been made by Jellachich in the name of the
Viennese Government, and the intimate connection between the domestic
disorders and the court of Vienna became more and more apparent. This
state of things rendered inevitable a struggle between Hungary and the
unconstitutional action of the court. The Austrian forces were arming
against Hungary on every side. Vienna, too, rose in rebellion against
the court, and now the Hungarians hastened to assist the revolutionists
in the Austrian capital. Unfortunately the young national army was not
ripe yet for so great a military enterprise, and Prince Windischgraetz,
having crushed the revolution in Vienna, invaded Hungary.

A last attempt was now made by the Hungarians to negotiate peace with
the court, but it failed, Windischgraetz being so elated with his
success that nothing short of unconditional submission on the part of
the country would satisfy him. To accept such terms would have been both
cowardly and suicidal, and the nation, therefore, driven to the sad
alternative of war, determined rather to perish gloriously than
pusillanimously to submit to be enslaved by the court. They followed the
lead of Kossuth, who was now at the head of the Government, while Gorgei
was the Commander-in-Chief of the Hungarian Army. The two names of
Kossuth and Gorgei soon constituted the glory of the nation. While these
two acted in harmony they achieved brilliant triumphs, but their
personal antagonism greatly contributed, at a subsequent period, to the
calamities of the country.

Windischgraetz took possession of Buda in January, 1849, thus compelling
Kossuth to transfer the seat of Government to Debreczin, while Gorgei
withdrew with his army to the northern part of Hungary; but the national
army fought victoriously against the Serbs and Wallachs, and the
situation of the Hungarians had, in the course of the winter, become
more favorable all over the country. The genius of Kossuth brought again
and again, as if by magic, fresh armies into the field, and he was
indefatigable in organizing the defence of the country. Distinguished
generals like Gorgei, Klapka, Damjanics, and Bem transformed the raw
recruits, in a wonderfully short time, into properly disciplined troops,
who were able to hold their own and bravely contend against the old and
tried imperial forces whom they put to flight at every point.

The fortunes of war changed in favor of the Hungarians in the latter
part of January, 1849. Klapka achieved the first triumph, which was
followed by the brilliant victory won by one of Gorgei's divisions
commanded by Guyon in the Battle of Branyiszko, and very soon the
Hungarian armies acted on the offensive at all points. In the course of
a few weeks they achieved, chiefly under Gorgei's leadership, great and
complete victories over the enemy near Szolnok, Hatvan, Bicske, Waitzen,
Isaszegh, Nagy Sarlo, and Komarom. Windischgraetz lost both the campaign
and his office as commander-in-chief.

Toward the close of the spring of 1849, after besieged Komorn had been
relieved by the Hungarians, and Bem had driven from Transylvania not
only the Austrians, but the Russians who had come to their assistance,
the country was almost freed from her enemies, and only two cities, Buda
and Temesvar, remained in the hands of the Austrians. The glorious
efforts made by the nation were attended at last by splendid successes,
and the civilized world spoke with sympathy and respect of the Hungarian
people, who had signally shown their ability to defend their liberties,
constitution, and national existence.

It should have been the mission of diplomacy, at this conjuncture, to
turn to advantage the recent military successes by negotiating an
honorable peace with the humbled dynasty, as had been done before in the
history of the country, after similar military achievements by the
ancient national leaders, Bocskay and Bethlen. Gorgei, at the head of
the army, was disposed to conclude peace. But the Hungarian Parliament
sitting in Debreczin, led by Kossuth and under the influence of the
recent victories, was determined to pursue a different course. The royal
house at Hapsburg, whose dynasty had ruled over Hungary for three
centuries, was declared to have forfeited its right to the throne by
instigating and bringing upon the country the calamities of a great war.
This act had a bad effect, especially on the army, tending also to
heighten the personal antagonism between Kossuth and Gorgei. But its
worst consequence was that it gave Russia a pretext for armed
intervention. The Emperor Francis Joseph entered into an alliance with
the Czar of Russia, the purpose of which was to reconquer seceded
Hungary and ultimately to crush her liberty.

One more brilliant victory was achieved by the Hungarian arms before the
fatal blow was aimed at the country. The fortress of Buda was taken
after a gallant assault, in the course of which the Austrian commandant
bombarded the defenceless city of Pest on the opposite bank of the
Danube, and thus the capital, too, was restored to the country. Yet
after this last glorious feat of war, good fortune deserted the national
banners. The grand heroic epoch was hastening to its tragic end. Two
hundred thousand Russians crossed the borders of Hungary, and were there
reenforced by sixty thousand to seventy thousand Austrians, whom the
Viennese Government had succeeded in collecting for a last great effort.

It was easy to foresee that the exhausted Hungarian army could not long
resist the superior numbers opposed to them. For months they continued
the gallant fight, and in one of these fierce engagements Petofi, the
beloved poet of the nation, lost his life; but in the month of August
the Russians had already succeeded in surrounding Gorgei's army. Gorgei,
who was now invested with the supreme power, perceiving that all further
effusion of blood was useless, surrendered, in the sight of the Russian
army, the sword he had so gloriously worn in many a battle, near
Vilagos, on August 13, 1849. The remaining Hungarian armies followed his
example, and either capitulated or disbanded. The brave army of the
_honveds_ was no more, and the gallant struggle for liberty was put an
end to by the Russian forces. Kossuth and many other Hungarians sought
refuge in Turkey.

Above Komorn, the largest fortress in the country, alone the Hungarian
colors were still floating. General Klapka, its commandant, bravely
defended it, and continued to hold it for six weeks after the sad
catastrophe of Vilagos. The brave defender, seeing at last that further
resistance served no purpose, as the Hungarian army had ceased to exist,
and the whole country had passed into the hands of the Austrians,
capitulated upon the most honorable terms. This was the concluding act
of the heroic struggle of the Hungarian people, the brave attitude of
the garrison and their commander adding another bright page to the
honorable record of the military achievements of 1848 and 1849.

As soon as the Imperialists had obtained possession of Komorn, their
commander-in-chief, Baron Haynau, began to persecute the patriots, and
to commit the most cruel atrocities against them. Those who had taken
part in the national war were brought before a court-martial and
summarily executed. The bloody work of the executioner began on October
6th. Count Louis Batthyanyi was shot at Pest, and thirteen gallant
generals, belonging to Gorgei's army, met their deaths at Arad.
Wholesale massacres were committed throughout the country, until at last
the conscience of Europe rose up against these cruel butcheries, and the
court itself removed the sanguinary Baron from the scene of his inhuman
exploits. The best men in the country were thrown into prison, and
thousands of families had to mourn for dear ones who had fallen victims
to the implacable vindictiveness of the Austrian Government. Once more
the gloom of oppression settled upon the unhappy country.

Many of the patriots had accompanied Kossuth to Turkey or found a refuge
in other foreign countries, and for ten years a great number of
distinguished Hungarians were compelled to taste the bitterness of
exile. Kossuth himself went subsequently to England, and visited also
the United States. In the latter country he was enthusiastically
received by the great and free American people, who took delight in his
lofty eloquence. During the Crimean War, and the War of 1859 in Italy,
Kossuth and the Hungarian exiles were zealously laboring to free their
country, by foreign aid, from the thraldom of oppression. At last,
however, the Hungarian nation succeeded in reconquering, without any aid
from abroad, by her own exertions, her national and political rights,
and made her peace with the ruling dynasty. But the Hungarian exiles had
their full share in the work of reconciliation, for it was owing to
their exertions that the nations of Europe remembered that, in spite of
Vilagos, Hungary still existed, and that again, at home, the people of
Hungary were not permitted to lose their faith in a better and brighter
future.

Kossuth, the Nestor of the struggle for liberty, lives at present [1886]
in retirement in Turin, [Footnote: Kossuth died at Turin, Italy, March
20, 1894.--ED.] and, although separated from his people by diverging
political theories, his countrymen will forever cherish in him the great
genius who gave liberty to millions of the oppressed peasantry, and who
inscribed indelibly on the pages of the national legislation the
immortal principles of liberty and equality of rights.




(1848) DISCOVERY OF GOLD IN CALIFORNIA, John S. Hittell


Before the time of the great gold discovery of 1848, the metal had been
found in California, but the mines from which it was taken were poor and
yielded small returns for years of working. The discovery in 1848
influenced the whole world, giving new life to trade and industry
everywhere. The first published report of gold in California appeared in
Hakluyt's account of Sir Francis Drake's visit to the coast in 1579. The
observations of Drake's men are supposed by some to have been made at a
point not far from San Francisco. The Hakluyt statement, however, is
disbelieved by many historians. The Spaniards and Mexicans who later
visited the coast are known to have found gold at many places, and
especially near the Colorado River, but they discovered no mines worth
working. Reports of great mineral wealth in California were repeated up
to the time of the American conquest, but they commanded little
confidence among mining experts.

Although gold was found in what is now San Diego County in 1828,
Alexander Forbes, the historian of California, wrote in 1835 that no
minerals of particular importance had been discovered in Upper
California, nor any ores of metals. About 1838 a gold placer was
discovered in the ca+-on of San Francisquito, forty-five miles northwest
of Los Angeles, and this was the first California mine that produced any
considerable amount of metal. It was worked for ten years and then
abandoned for richer diggings in the Sacramento Valley. The average
yield for the ten years was probably about six thousand dollars. After
the return of the Wilkes exploring expedition of 1842, James D. Dana,
its mineralogist, mentioned places in California at which he had
observed or inferred the existence of gold. But his report led to no
gold-hunting, and had only a scientific interest.

The great discovery of 1848, and its world-wide effects, are described
in the following account by Hittell, which forms a part of Hubert H.
Bancroft's voluminous _History of the Pacific States_.

As Edmund Hammond Hargraves is the hero of the Australian, so is James
W. Marshall of the Californian, gold discovery. Before giving the
account of his discovery, however, I will quote the following passage
from a letter written on May 4, 1846, by Thomas O. Larkin, then United
States consul at Monterey, California, to James Buchanan, Secretary of
State:

"There is said to be black lead in the country of San Fernando, near San
Pedro [now Los Angeles County]. By washing the sand in a plate, any
person can obtain from one dollar to five dollars per day of gold that
brings seventeen dollars per ounce in Boston; the gold has been gathered
for two or three years, though but few have the patience to look for it.
On the southeast end of the island of Catalina there is a silver mine
from which silver has been extracted. There is no doubt but that gold,
silver, quick-silver, copper, lead, sulphur, and coal mines are to be
found all over California, and it is equally doubtful whether, under
their present owners, they will ever be worked."

James W. Marshall, in a letter dated January 28, 1856, and addressed to
Charles E. Pickett, gave the following account of the gold discovery:
"Toward the end of August, 1847, Captain Sutter and I formed a
copartnership to build and run a sawmill upon a site selected by myself
(since known as Coloma). We employed P.L. Weimer and family to remove
from the Fort (Sutter's Fort) to the mill-site, to cook and labor for
us. Nearly the first work done was the building of a double log cabin,
about half a mile from the mill-site. We commenced the mill about
Christmas. Some of the mill-hands wanted a cabin near the mill. This was
built, and I went to the Fort to superintend the construction of the
mill-irons, leaving orders to cut a narrow ditch where the race was to
be made. Upon my return, in January, 1848, I found the ditch cut as
directed, and those who were working on the same were doing so at a
great disadvantage, expending their labor upon the head of the race
instead of the foot.

"I immediately changed the course of things, and upon the 19th of the
same month of January discovered the gold near the lower end of the
race, about two hundred yards below the mill. William Scott was the
second man to see the metal. He was at work at a carpenter's bench near
the mill. I showed the gold to him. Alexander Stephens, James Brown,
Henry Bigler, and William Johnston were likewise working in front of the
mill, framing the upper story. They were called up next, and, of course,
saw the precious metal. P.L. Weimer and Charles Bennett were at the old
double log cabin (where Hastings and Company afterward kept a store).

"In the mean time we put in some wheat and peas, nearly five acres,
across the river. In February the Captain (Captain Sutter) came to the
mountains for the first time. Then we consummated a treaty with the
Indians, which had been previously negotiated. The tenor of this was
that we were to pay them two hundred dollars yearly in goods, at Yerba
Buena prices, for the joint possession and occupation of the land with
them; they agreeing not to kill our stock, viz., horses, cattle, hogs,
or sheep, nor burn the grass within the limits fixed by the treaty. At
the same time Captain Sutter, myself, and Isaac Humphrey entered into a
copartnership to dig gold. A short time afterward, P.L. Weimer moved
away from the mill, and was away two or three months, when he returned.
With all the events that subsequently occurred, you and the public are
well informed."

This is the most precise and is generally considered to be the most
correct account of the gold discovery. Other versions of the story have
been published, however, and the following, from an article published in
the Coloma _Argus_, in the latter part of the year 1855, is one of them.
The statement was evidently derived from Weimer, who lives at Coloma:

"That James W. Marshall picked up the first piece of gold is beyond
doubt. Peter L. Weimer, who resides in this place, states positively
that Marshall picked up the gold in his presence; they both saw it and
each spoke at the same time, 'What's that yellow stuff?' Marshall, being
a step in advance, picked it up. This first piece of gold is now in the
possession of Mrs. Weimer, and weighs six pennyweights eleven grains.
The piece was given to her by Marshall himself. The dam was finished
early in January, the frame for the mill also erected, and the flume and
bulkhead completed. It was at this time that Marshall and Weimer adopted
the plan of raising the gate during the night to wash out sand from the
mill-race, closing it during the day, when work would be continued with
shovels, etc.

"Early in February--the exact day is not remembered--in the morning,
after shutting off the water, Marshall and Weimer walked down the race
together to see what the water had accomplished during the night. Having
gone about twenty yards below the mill, they both saw the piece of gold
before mentioned, and Marshall picked it up. After an examination, the
gold was taken to the cabin of Weimer, and Mrs. Weimer instructed to
boil it in saleratus-water; but she, being engaged in making soap,
pitched the piece into the soap-kettle, where it was boiled all day and
all night. The following morning the strange piece of stuff was fished
out of the soap, all the brighter for the boiling.

"Discussion now commenced, and all expressed the opinion that perhaps
the yellow substance might be gold. Little was said on the subject; but
everyone each morning searched in the race for more, and every day found
several small scales. The Indians also picked up many small thin pieces,
and carried them always to Mrs. Weimer. About three weeks after the
first piece was obtained, Marshall took the fine gold, amounting to
between two and three ounces, and went to San Francisco to have the
strange metal tested. On his return he informed Weimer that the stuff
was gold.

"All hands now began to search for the 'root of all evil.' Shortly
after, Captain Sutter came to Coloma, and he and Marshall assembled the
Indians and bought of them a large tract of country about Coloma, in
exchange for a lot of beads and a few cotton handkerchiefs. They, under
color of this Indian title, required one-third of all the gold dug on
their domain, and collected at this rate until the fall of 1848, when a
mining party from Oregon declined paying 'tithes' as they called it.

"During February, 1848, Marshall and Weimer went down the river to
Mormon Island, and there found scales of gold on the rocks. Some weeks
later they sent Mr. Henderson, Sydney Willis and Mr. Fifield, Mormons,
down there to dig, telling them that that place was better than Coloma.
These were the first miners at Mormon Island."

Marshall was a man of an active, enthusiastic mind, and he at once
attached great importance to his discovery. His ideas, however, were
vague; he knew nothing about gold-mining; he did not know how to take
advantage of what he had found. Only an experienced gold-miner could
understand the importance of the discovery and make it of practical
value to all the world. That gold-miner, fortunately, was near at hand;
his name was Isaac Humphrey. He was residing in the town of San
Francisco, in the month of February, when a Mr. Bennett, one of the
party employed at Marshall's mill, went down to that place with some of
the dust to have it tested; for it was still a matter of doubt whether
this yellow metal really was gold. Bennett told his errand to a friend
whom he met in San Francisco, and this friend introduced him to
Humphrey, who had been a gold-miner in Georgia, and was therefore
competent to pass an opinion.

Humphrey looked at the dust, pronounced it gold at the first glance, and
expressed a belief that the diggings must be rich. He made inquiries
about the place where the gold was found, and subsequent inquiries about
the trustworthiness of Mr. Bennett, and on March 7th he was at the mill.
He tried to induce several of his friends in San Francisco to go with
him; they all thought his expedition a foolish one, and he had to go
alone. He found that there was some talk about the gold, and persons
would occasionally go about looking for pieces of it; but no one was
engaged in mining, and the work of the mill was going on as usual. On
the 8th he went out prospecting with a pan, and satisfied himself that
the country in that vicinity was rich in gold. He then made a rocker and
commenced the business of washing gold, and thus began the business of
mining in California.

Others saw how he did it, followed his example, found that the work was
profitable, and abandoned all other occupations. The news of their
success spread; people flocked to the place, learned how to use the
rocker, discovered new diggings, and in the course of a few months the
country had been overturned by a social and industrial revolution.

Mr. Humphrey had not been at work more than three or four days before a
Frenchman, called Baptiste, who had been a gold-miner in Mexico for many
years, came to the mill, and he agreed with Humphrey that California was
very rich in gold. He, too, went to work, and, being an excellent
prospector, he was of great service in teaching the newcomers the
principles of prospecting and mining for gold--principles not abstruse,
yet not likely to suggest themselves at first thought to men entirely
ignorant of the business. Baptiste had been employed by Captain Sutter
to saw lumber with a whipsaw, and had been at work for two years at a
place, since called Weber, about ten miles eastward from Coloma. When he
saw the diggings at the latter place, he at once said there were rich
mines where he had been sawing, and he expressed surprise that it had
never occurred to him before, so experienced in gold-mining as he was;
but he afterward said it had been so ordered by Providence, that the
gold might not be discovered until California should be in the hands of
the Americans.

About the middle of March, P.B. Reading, an American, now a prominent
and wealthy citizen of the State, then the owner of a large ranch on the
western bank of the Sacramento River, near where it issues from the
mountains, came to Coloma, and after looking about at the diggings, said
that if similarity in the appearance of the country could be taken as a
guide there must be gold in the hills near his ranch; and he went off,
declaring his intention to go back and make an examination of them. John
Bidwell, another American, now a wealthy and influential citizen, then
residing on his ranch on the bank of Feather River, came to Coloma about
a week later, and he said there must be gold near his ranch, and he went
off with expressions similar to those used by Reading. In a few weeks
news came that Reading had found diggings near Clear Creek, at the head
of the Sacramento Valley, and was at work there with his Indians; and
not long after, it was reported that Bidwell was at work with his
Indians on a rich bar of Feather River, since called "Bidwell's Bar."

Although Bennett had arrived at San Francisco in February with some of
the dust, the editors of the town--for two papers were published in the
place at the time--did not hear of the discovery till some weeks later.
The first published notice of the gold appeared in the _Californian_
(published in San Francisco) on March 15th, as follows: "In the newly
made raceway of the sawmill recently erected by Captain Sutter, on the
American Fork, gold has been found in considerable quantities. One
person brought thirty dollars' worth to New Helvetia, gathered there in
a short time. California, no doubt, is rich in mineral wealth; great
chances here for scientific capitalists. Gold has been found in almost
every part of the country."

Three days later the _California Star_, the rival paper, gave the
following account of the discovery: "We were informed a few days since
that a very valuable silver-mine was situated in the vicinity of this
place, and, again, that its locality was known. Mines of quicksilver are
being found all over the country. Gold has been discovered in the
northern Sacramento districts, about forty miles above Sutter's Fort.
Rich mines of copper are said to exist north of these bays."

Although these articles were written two months after the discovery, it
is evident that the editors had heard only vague rumors, and attached
little importance to them. The _Star_ of March 25th says: "So great is
the quantity of gold taken from the new mine recently found at New
Helvetia that it has become an article of traffic in that vicinity."

None of the gold had been seen in San Francisco; but at Sutter's Fort
men had begun to buy and sell with it.

The next number of the _Star_, bearing date April 1, 1848, contained an
article several columns long, written by Doctor V.J. Fourgeaud, on the
resources of California. He devoted about a column to the minerals, and
in the course of his remarks said: "It would be utterly impossible at
present to make a correct estimate of the mineral wealth of California.
Popular attention has been but lately directed to it. But the
discoveries that have already been made will warrant us in the assertion
that California is one of the richest mineral countries in the world.
Gold, silver, quicksilver, iron, copper, lead, sulphur, saltpetre, and
other mines of great value have already been found. We saw a few days
ago a beautiful specimen of gold from the mine newly discovered on the
American Fork. From all accounts the mine is immensely rich, and already
we learn the gold from it collected at random and without any trouble
has become an article of trade at the upper settlements. This precious
metal abounds in this country. We have heard of several other newly
discovered mines of gold, but as these reports are not yet authenticated
we shall pass over them. However, it is well known that there is a
placer of gold a few miles from Los Angeles, and another on the San
Joaquin."

It was not until more than three months after Marshall's discovery that
the San Francisco papers stated that gold-mining had become a regular
and profitable business in the new placers. The _Californian_ of April
26th said: "From a gentleman just from the gold region we learn that
many new discoveries of gold have very recently been made, and it is
fully ascertained that a large extent of country abounds with that
precious mineral. Seven men, with picks and spades, gathered one
thousand six hundred dollars worth in fifteen days. Many persons are
settling on the lands with the view of holding preemptions, but as yet
every person takes the right to gather all he can without any regard to
claims. The largest piece yet found is worth six dollars."

The news spread, men came from all the settled parts of the territory,
and as they came they went to work mining, and gradually they moved
farther and farther from Coloma, and before the rainy reason had
commenced (in December) miners were washing rich auriferous dirt all
along the western slope of the Sierra Nevada, from the Feather to the
Tuolumne River, a distance of one hundred fifty miles; and also over a
space of about fifteen miles square, near the place now known as the
town of Shasta, in the Coast Mountains, at the head of the Sacramento
Valley. The whole country had been turned topsy-turvy; towns had been
deserted, or left only to the women and children; fields had been left
unreaped; herds of cattle went without anyone to care for them. But
gold-mining, which had become the great interest of the country, was not
neglected. The people learned rapidly and worked hard.

In the latter part of 1848 adventurers began to arrive from Oregon, the
Sandwich Islands, and Mexico. The winter found the miners with very
little preparation, but most of them were accustomed to a rough manner
of life in the Western wilds, and they considered their large profits an
abundant compensation for their privations and hardships. The weather
was so mild in December and January that they could work almost as well
as in the summer, and the rain gave them facilities for washing such as
they could not have in the dry season.

In September, 1848, the first rumors of the gold discovery began to
reach New York; in October they attracted attention; in November people
looked with interest for new reports; in December the news gained
general credence and a great excitement arose. Preparations were made
for a migration to California by somebody in nearly every town in the
United States. The great body of the emigrants went either across the
plains with ox or mule teams or round Cape Horn in sailing-vessels. A
few took passage in the steamer by way of Panama.

Not fewer than one hundred thousand men, representing in their nativity
every State in the Union, went to California that year. Of these, twenty
thousand crossed the continent by way of the South Pass; and nearly all
of them started from the Missouri River between Independence and St.
Joseph, in the month of May. They formed an army; in daytime their
trains filled up the roads for miles, and at night their camp-fires
glittered in every direction about the places blessed with grass and
water. The excitement continued from 1850 to 1853; emigrants continued
to come by land and sea, from Europe and America, and in the last named
year from China also. In 1854 the migration fell off, and since that
time until the completion of the Union Pacific Railroad California
received the chief accessions to her white population by the Panama
steamers.

The whole world felt a beneficent influence from the great gold yield of
the Sacramento Basin. Labor rose in value, and industry was stimulated
from St. Louis to Constantinople. The news, however, was not welcome to
all classes. Many of the capitalists feared that gold would soon be so
abundant as to be worthless, and European statesmen feared the power to
be gained by the arrogant and turbulent democracy of the New World.

The author of a book entitled _Notes on the Gold District_, published in
London in 1853, thus speaks of the fears excited in Europe on the first
great influx of gold from the Californian mines: "Among the many
extraordinary incidents connected with the Californian discoveries was
the alarm communicated to many classes and which was not confined to
individuals but invaded governments. The first announcement spread
alarm; but as the cargoes of gold rose from one hundred thousand dollars
to one million dollars, bankers and financiers began seriously to
prepare for an expected crisis. In England and the United States the
panic was confined to a few; but on the Continent of Europe every
government, rich or poor, thought it needful to make provision against
the threatened evils. An immediate alteration in prices was looked for;
money was to become so abundant that all ordinary commodities were to
rise, but more especially the proportion between gold and silver was to
be disturbed, some thinking that the latter might become the dearer
metal. The Governments of France, Holland, and Russia, in particular,
turned their attention to the monetary question, and in 1850 the
Government of Holland availed themselves of a law, which had not before
been put in operation, to take immediate steps for selling off the gold
in the Bank of Amsterdam, at what they supposed to be the highest
prices, and to stock themselves with silver.

"Palladium, which is likewise a superior white metal, was held more
firmly, and expectations were entertained that it would become available
for plating. The stock, however, was small. The silver operation was
carried on concurrent with a supply of bullion to Russia for a loan, a
demand for silver in Austria, and for shipment to India, and it did
really produce an effect on the silver market, which many mistook for
the influence of Californian gold. The particular way in which the
Netherlands operations were carried on was especially calculated to
produce the greatest disturbance of prices. The ten-florin pieces were
sent to Paris, coined there into Napoleons, and silver five-franc pieces
drawn out in their place.

"At Paris the premium on gold in a few months fell from nearly 2 per
cent. to a discount, and at Hamburg a like fall took place. In London,
the great silver market, silver rose, between the autumn and the new
year, from five shillings per ounce to five shillings one and
five-eighths pence per ounce, and Mexican dollars from four shillings
ten and one-half pence to four shillings eleven and five-eighths pence
per ounce; nor did prices recover until toward the end of the year 1851,
when the fall was as sudden as the rise."

In the spring of 1849 Reading crossed the Coast Range with a party of
his Indians, and discovered rich diggings in the valley of the Trinity.
In the summer of the same year Colonel Fremont discovered the mines on
his ranch, in the valley of the Mariposa.




(1849) RISE AND FALL OF THE ROMAN REPUBLIC, Jessie White Mario


When "Young Italy," the association of republican agitators led by
Giuseppe Mazzini, began its activities (about 1834), hatred of the
Austrian government, which ruled in several of the Italian States, was
kept alive through this determined organization. Aspirations for liberty
and self-government were requickened. The endeavors of the reforming
Pope, Pius IX (1846), to harmonize his policy with the aims of this
party, in order to promote a confederation of the Italian States under
papal supremacy, at first seemed to promise the dawn of a new era. Soon
after the outbreak of the revolution of 1848 in France, revolt against
the Austrian power began in various parts of Italy. The Austrian troops
were driven out of Lombardy; Venice compelled the Austrian forces in her
territory to surrender, and became a free republic; in a short time
Italy appeared to have delivered herself from the rule of Austria; but
almost immediately the foreign power began to regain its ascendency, and
this, through the events here related, was fully recovered.

After the flight of Pius IX from Rome (November, 1848), Mazzini and his
followers pursued their own course. A constituent assembly was summoned,
and on February 5, 1849, it declared the temporal power of the Pope
abolished. The Italian soldier who now becomes the chief figure of this
movement has enjoyed a popular renown unsurpassed by that of any of his
countrymen. Giuseppe Garibaldi, a sailor's son, was born in Nice, July
4, 1807. In youth he went to sea. In 1834 he took part with Mazzini in
the Young Italy demonstrations, and for aiding in an attempt to seize
Genoa he was condemned to death. Escaping to South America, he won
distinction as a guerilla leader and a privateer in the service of the
Rio Grande rebels against Brazil. After further military adventures in
South America, he returned to Italy, and in 1847 offered his services to
Pope Pius IX, but they were not accepted. In 1848 he received
indifferent treatment at the hands of Charles Albert of Sardinia, who
was besieging the Austrians in Mantua. After the failure of Charles
Albert, Garibaldi collected his own followers and acted against the
Austrians with such effect as to bring him into prominence in the ranks
of Italian patriots. The following account of the siege and defence of
Rome, which admiringly presents him to view, is from the author's
supplement to Garibaldi's _Autobiography_, and is a valuable
contribution to the history of the events in which he was so
conspicuous.

Of the many sublime pages traced in the blood of Italian patriots, the
sublimest in our eyes is that of the defence of Rome. No writer of
genius has yet been inspired to narrate the heroic deeds enacted, the
pain, privation, anguish, borne joyfully to save "that city of the
Italian soul" from desecration by the foreigner. Mazzini's beloved
disciple, Mameli, the soldier-poet, died with the flower of the student
youth; the survivors, exiled, dispersed, heartbroken, or intent only on
preparing for the next campaign, have left us but fugitive records,
partial episodes, or dull military chronicles. Margaret Fuller Ossoli,
competent by love and genius to be the historian and who had collected
the materials day by day, lived the life of the combatants hour by hour,
was wrecked with "Ossoli, Angelo" and her manuscript, in sight of her
native shore.

From details that reached him Garibaldi always maintained that there was
a priest among the wreckers who secured and destroyed the treasure!
Guerrazzi's _Siege of Rome_ is inferior to all his other writings. The
entry of the Italian army into Rome by the breach in Porta Pia has cast
the grand defence of 1849 into the background of rash attempts and
futile failures. In these brief pages we give merely the outline of the
drama in which Garibaldi was one of the leading actors. The men who
desired a republic did not exist as a party in Rome previous to the
flight of the Pope. But there existed a strong national anti-Austrian
party, who, as they had worshipped Pio Nono (Pius IX) when he "blessed
Italy" and the banners that the Romans bore upward to the "Holy War,"
now execrated him inasmuch as he had withdrawn his sanction to that war
and had blessed the Croats and the Austrians who were butchering the
Italians in the north. Convinced of the impossibility of favoring the
independence and unity of Italy, and remaining at the same time the
supreme head of the Universal Church, Pio Nono fled for protection to
the King of Naples; there he declined to accept from the King of
Piedmont his repeated offers of protection or mediation, and appealed to
Austria alone to restore him pope-king absolute in Rome. Very soon
afterward the Archduke of Tuscany revoked the Constituent Assembly which
he had granted, and followed the saintly example of the Holy Father, so
that Tuscany and Rome were alike left sheep without a shepherd.

In the Roman States an appeal was made to universal suffrage, and the
people sent up deputies, known chiefly for their honesty and bravery, to
decide on the form of government, to assist Piedmont in her second war
against Austria. When the Constituent Assembly met to decide on the form
of government, Mamiani warned them that only two rulers were possible in
Rome--the Pope or Cola di Rienzi; the Papacy or the Republic.

Garibaldi, who had organized his legion at Rieti, was elected member of
the Constituent Assembly, and on February 7th put in his appearance and
in language more soldierlike than parliamentary urged the immediate
proclamation of the republic. But the debate was carried on with all due
respect for the "rights of the minority."

Finally, on February 9th, of the one hundred fifty-four Deputies
present, all but five voted for the downfall of the temporal power of
the Pope, all but eleven for the proclamation of the republic. These,
with the exception of General Garibaldi and General Ferrari, were all
Romans. G. Filopanti, who undertook to explain the state of affairs to
the Roman people, won shouts of applause by his concluding words, "We
are no longer mere Romans, but Italians."

This sentence sums up the sentiments of all: of Garibaldi, who, after
recording his vote, returned to his troops at Rieti and drew up an
admirable plan for attacking the Austrians bent on subjugating the Roman
Provinces and for carrying revolution into the Kingdom of Naples; of
Mazzini, who, so far from having imposed on the Romans a republic by the
force of his tyrannical will, was--during its proclamation--in Tuscany,
striving to induce Guerrazzi and his fellow-triumvirs to unite with Rome
and organize a strong army for the renewal of the Lombard War.

True, the Romans, mindful of all they owed to the great apostle of
Italian unity and independence, proclaimed him Roman citizen on February
12th, and on the 25th of the same month the Roman people, with nine
thousand votes, elected him member of the Constituent Assembly; but it
was not until March 5th that he entered Rome, when, in one of his most
splendid speeches, rising above parties and politics, he called upon the
"Rome of the People" to send up combatants against Austria, the only
enemy that then menaced Italy.

Suiting the action to the word, he induced the Assembly to nominate a
commission for the thorough organization of the army; and ten thousand
men had quitted Rome and were marching up to the frontier to place
themselves at the orders of Piedmont, when, alas! their march was
arrested by the news of the total defeat at Novara, of the abdication of
Charles Albert and the reinauguration of Austrian rule in Lombardy.
Genoa, whose generous inhabitants arose in protest against the
disastrous but inevitable treaty of peace, was bombarded and reduced to
submission by La Marmora; and now, while to Rome and to Venice flocked
all the volunteers who preferred death to submission, the new Holy
Alliance of Continental Europe took for its watchword: "The restoration
of the Pope; the extinction of the two Republics of Venice and of Rome."

Austria crossed the Po and occupied Ferrara, marching thence on Bologna;
the Neapolitan troops from the south marched upward to the Roman
frontier; even Spain sent her contingent to Fiumicino. But only when it
was known that the French Republic had voted an expedition, with the
specious object of guaranteeing the independence of the supreme Pontiff,
did the Romans and their rulers realize that the existence of Rome and
her newborn liberties was seriously menaced. Garibaldi wrote from Rieti,
in April, an enthusiastic letter worth recording here:

"BROTHER MAZZINI: I feel that I must write you one line with my own
hand. May Providence sustain you in your brilliant but arduous career
[Mazzini had just been elected, with Armellini and Saffi, Triumvir of
Rome], and may you be enabled to carry out all the noble designs in your
mind for the welfare of our country. Remember that Rieti is full of your
brethren in the faith, and that immutably yours is

  "JOSEPH GARIBALDI."

At the same time he sent a plan, proposing to march along the Via
Emilia, to collect arms and volunteers, proclaim the levy in mass, and
with a division stationed in the Bolognese territory, operate in the
duchies, unite Tuscan, Ligurian, and Piedmontese forces, and once more
assail the Austrians. But the news of Piedmont defeated, Genoa bombarded
and vanquished, convinced him that it would be difficult to re-arouse
the disheartened population of Northern Italy. Hence he next proposed to
cross the Neapolitan frontier, fling himself upon the royal troops, and
seize the Abruzzi. A sensible project this, to take the offensive
against the Pope's defenders. But before the Triumvirate could come to a
definite decision, it was known that the French troops, by a disgraceful
stratagem, had landed and taken possession of Civita Vecchia, General
Oudinot entwining the French flag with the Roman tricolor and assuring
the Romans that they only came to secure perfect freedom for the people
to effect a reconciliation with Pius IX.

But the people had no desire for such reconciliation; the Assembly
decreed that Rome should have no garrison but the National Roman Guard:
that if the Republic were invaded by force, the invaders by force should
be repelled. A commission of barricades established, the people flocked
to erect and remained to man them. The National Guard summoned by
Mazzini all answered, "Present," and served enthusiastically throughout
the siege; all the troops dispersed in the Provinces were summoned to
the capital, and Garibaldi and his volunteers marched into the city amid
the acclamations of the populace, too thankful to welcome them to demur
at the strange appearance they presented.

Now that Garibaldi's military and naval genius is fully recognized, and
the extraordinary fascination he exercised over officers and men, the
enthusiasm with which he filled whole populations whom others failed to
stir, are undisputed, many historians and critics have expressed their
astonishment that he was not made at once commander-in-chief of the
Roman forces, and have blamed the Triumvirate for having failed to
recognize in the hero of Montevideo the good genius of Rome. Such
critics must be simply ignorant of the actual condition of Rome and her
Government. There existed, in the first place, the regular Roman army,
which would have served under none save regular generals; then there was
the Lombard battalion under Manara, whose members, after fifteen months
of regular campaigning, were thoroughly drilled and disciplined, who
insisted on retaining the cross of Savoy on their belts, and, until
their prowess made them the idols of the Romans, were nicknamed the
"corps of aristocrats."

Little did they imagine, when they kept aloof from the legion, that
before three months were over their young hero chief would resign his
command of them to assume the delicate post of head of Garibaldi's
staff. Carlo Pisacane--educated in the military college of the
Nunziatella, who had served as captain in the foreign legion in Algiers,
destined later to become the pioneer of Garibaldi and his "Thousand" and
to lose his life in the attempt--while recognizing Garibaldi's prowess
and talents as a guerilla chief, in his military history of 1849,
severely criticises his tactics, and blames his sending up "a handful of
boys against masses of the enemy" and censures, unhesitatingly, "his
indiscipline at Velletri." One of the Deputies of the Roman Constituent
wrote to the Triumvirate begging them to "Send Garibaldi with his motley
crew to a terrible spot, called For del Diavolo, between Civita Vecchia
and Rome; on no account to allow them to enter the city, as they are
quite too disorderly."

Now, they had committed no "disorders" save that of carrying off the
mules and horses of the convents; but when we think of the wild, free,
peril-scorning life led in the backwoods of America, of how they
recognized no law save their commander's orders, how little used he had
been to receive command from any, it will be easily understood how this
wild, tanned, quaintly dressed band filled the inhabitants of the towns
through which they passed with terror and dismay. Garibaldi's violent
tirades against priests and priestcraft; the liberation of a gang of
miscreants arrested by order of the Roman Government, had not
prepossessed men of order and of discipline in his favor; and although
personal contact dispelled all unfavorable prepossessions, one sees how
impossible it was for Mazzini to place him in the position which he
would himself have assigned to him.

Garibaldi altered in nothing his South American modes of warfare. He and
his staff, in red shirts and ponchos, with hats of every form and color,
no distinctions of rank or military accoutrements, rode on their
American saddles, which when unrolled served each as a small tent. When
their troops halted and the soldiers piled their arms, the General and
all his staff attended each to the wants of his own horse, then to
securing provisions for their men. When these were not at hand, the
officers, springing on their barebacked horses, lasso on wrists, dashed
full speed along the Campagna, till oxen, sheep, pigs, kids, or poultry
in sufficient quantities were secured and paid for; then, dividing their
spoil among the companies, officers and men fell to killing, quartering,
and roasting before huge fires in the open air.

Garibaldi, when no battle was raging or danger near--if in the city,
selected some lofty belfry-tower; if in the country, climbed the
loftiest peak; and, with brief minutes of repose under his saddle-tent,
literally lived on horseback, posting his own pickets, making his own
observations, sometimes passing hours in perfect silence, scanning the
most distant and minute objects through his telescope. Ever a man of the
fewest words, a look, a gesture, a brief sentence sufficed to convey his
orders to his officers. When his trumpet signalled departure, the lassos
served to catch the horses grazing in the fields, the men fell into
order and marched, none knowing nor caring whither, save to follow their
chief. Councils of war he never held; he ordered, and was implicitly
obeyed. To his original legion were added some of the finest and bravest
of the Lombard volunteers, who had learned his worth "after the
armistice"; while boys from ten to fourteen, who were his pride and
delight, formed his "band of hope."

To-day for an act of courage a man would be raised from the ranks, and,
sword in hand, command his company; but woe to him if he failed in
shouldering a musket or brandishing a bayonet at need. To onlookers this
legion, composed at first of but one thousand men, seemed a wild, unruly
set; but this was not the case. Drunkenness and insubordination were
unknown among the ranks. Woe to a soldier who wronged a civilian. Three
were shot for petty theft during the brief Roman campaign. Still, while
Garibaldi felt within himself his own superiority to those around,
Mazzini, who also felt it, might as well have proposed an Indian chief
to command the Roman Army as this man, whom, in later years, no soldier
in Europe but would have been proud to call _dux_.

Again, it must not be forgotten that the grounds on which France
explained her interference was the imposition by "foreigners" of a
republic on the Roman people, desirous only to receive the Pope with
open arms; that Austria, Piedmont, and the Ultramontane faction in
England represented the Roman States as handed over to the demagogues,
to the riffraff of European revolutionists. Hence the absolute necessity
that presented itself to the minds of the Triumvirs for filling the
civil and military offices as far as possible with citizens of Rome or
the Roman States. Unfortunately, no capable Roman commander-in-chief
existed. Rosselli was chosen as the least incapable; but throughout,
Garibaldi was regarded as the soul, the genius of the defence.

A very short time had sufficed for Mazzini and the Romans to come to so
perfect an understanding that no exercise of authority, no police force,
was necessary to keep order in the city, as the French, English, and
American residents, and as the respective consuls repeatedly affirmed in
public and in private letters. Oudinot too had warning from his own
consul, from his own friends within the city, of all the preparations,
of the resolute determination of the inhabitants, of the known valor of
many of the combatants in past campaigns; yet to all such remonstrances
he answered with French impertinence, "_Les Italiens ne se battent
pas_," and clearly he had imbued his officers with this belief. At dawn
on April 30th, starting from Castel di Guido, leaving their knapsacks at
Magnianella, the officers in white gloves and sheathed swords advanced
on Rome, taking the road to Porta Cavallaggieri, sending sharpshooters
through the woodlands on the right, the Chasseurs de Vincennes on the
heights to the left. Avezzana, war minister, from the top of the cupola
of San Pietro in Montori, on seeing the first sentinel advance, gave the
signal for the ringing of the tocsin, which brought the entire populace
to the walls, the Roman matrons clustering there to encourage their
husbands, sons, and brothers to the fight.

When the army arrived within a hundred seventy yards from the wall, the
artillerymen from the bastions of San Marto fired their first salute, to
which the Chasseurs de Vincennes responded so well that the Roman
Narducci, Major Pallini, and several of his men fell mortally wounded at
their guns. Finding themselves under a cross-fire from the walls and
from the Vatican, the enemy placed a counter-battery, which did deadly
mischief to the besieged, who lost at once six officers, numerous
soldiers, and had a cannon dismounted to boot. Not the slightest
confusion occurred; women and boys carried off the wounded; fresh
soldiers took the place of the fallen; compelling Oudinot to summon both
his brigades and plant two other pieces of cannon. But he now had to
cope with an enemy whom Frenchmen in Montevideo envied and calumniated;
who to himself and his followers was as yet an unknown quantity.

Garibaldi, who had had but two days to organize his men and take up
position, had at once perceived the importance of the scattered
buildings outside the gates, and occupied them all--villas, woods, and
the walls surrounding them. As the enemy fell back from the first
assault, he flung his men upon them as stones from a sling. At the head
of the first company was Captain Montaldi, who in a short time was
crippled with nineteen bullets, yet still fought on his knees with his
broken sword; and only when the French retreated did his men carry him
dead from the field. As fought his company, so fought all under the eyes
of Garibaldi, who directed the fight from Villa Pamphilli. Then
summoning his reserve, himself heading the students who had never seen
fire but who had given each to the other the consign, "If I attempt to
run away, shoot me through the head," he led them into the open field,
and there gave them their first lesson to the cry of, "To the bayonet!
to the bayonet!"--a lesson oft repeated since, a cry never after raised
in vain. Numbers of his best officers and soldiers fell, but never a
halt or panic made a pause in that eventful charge, until in full open
fight the French were compelled to retreat, leaving Garibaldi absolute
master of the field.

Numbers of the French were killed and wounded, others hid themselves in
the woods and vineyards round; a general retreat ensued, while a portion
continued the fire to protect it. The guns had to be carried off by
hand, as four horses had been killed; and at this retreat up to Castel
di Guido, General Oudinot was forced to assist in person. Summing up his
losses, he found that he had left four hundred dead upon the field; five
hundred thirty wounded, and two hundred sixty prisoners. He had,
besides, the glory of depriving the Roman Republic of two hundred
fourteen killed and wounded, twenty-five officers among them, and of
carrying off one prisoner, Ugo Bassi, the chaplain, who had remained
behind to assist a dying man, his only weapon being the cross, of which
the French were the knightly protectors.

Garibaldi's first thought was naturally to pursue the fugitives to
Castel di Guido, to Pali, and Civita Vecchia; "To drive them," in his
own forcible language, "back to their ships or into the sea." For this
he demanded strong reenforcements of fresh troops. But the Government of
Rome--believing that it sufficed for Republican France to know that
Republican Rome did not desire the return of the Pope; that it was not
governed by a faction--was resolved unanimously to resist all invasion;
decided against pursuit; sent back the French prisoners to the French
camp; accorded Oudinot's demand for an armistice, and entered into
negotiations with the French plenipotentiary, Ferdinand de Lesseps, for
the evacuation of the Roman territory.

The refusal was never forgotten, never forgiven by Garibaldi, and has
always been a "burning question" between the exclusive partisans of
Mazzini and Garibaldi, in whose eyes to scotch and not to kill the snake
was the essence of unwisdom. It is also maintained by many Garibaldians
that an out-and-out victory could not have been concealed from the
French Assembly as the President and his accomplices did manage to
conceal the affair of April 30th, and that had the people and the army
in France known what a humiliation had been inflicted on their comrades
they would have insisted on the recall of Oudinot, and that thus the
President's own position would have been endangered. On the other hand,
Mazzini's partisans say, granting--what remains unproven--that Garibaldi
could have succeeded in driving every Frenchman back to his ships or
into the sea, there can be no doubt that Louis Napoleon, bent on
restoring the Pope and thus gaining the clergy to his side, would have
sent reenforcements upon reenforcements, until Rome should be
vanquished.

The disputants must agree to differ on this point, though all surely
must allow that it was necessary that the small forces at the disposal
of the Republic should be husbanded for the repulse of others besides
France, who claimed to be defenders of the Pope--Austria, the King of
Naples, and even Spain! And, in fact, a Neapolitan army, with the King
at their head, had crossed the Roman frontier, and had taken up
positions at Albano and Frascati, whence Garibaldi was sent to oust
them, the Lombard brigade being added to his legion. This Neapolitan
king-hunt formed one of the characteristic episodes of the Roman
campaign. Garibaldi usually lodged his men in convents, to the terror
and horror of their inmates, sending them thence to reconnoitre the
enemy's positions, and harass them by deeds of daredevil courage.

The King was indeed at Albano, whence from Palestrina Garibaldi marched
to the attack; which would probably have been successful had he not been
suddenly summoned back to Rome, as the movements of the French were by
no means reassuring. However, a fresh truce being proclaimed, General
Rosselli, with Garibaldi under his orders, was sent out again in full
force against the Neapolitans. Not a wise arrangement this, as the
volunteers and the regulars--unless at different posts within the
city--had not yet united in harmonious action. Garibaldi, sent by
Rosselli merely to explore the enemy's movements, finding that they were
retreating from Albano, gave battle to a strong column about two miles
from Velletri without giving time to Rosselli to come up with the main
body.

So the Neapolitans got into Velletri, barricaded themselves there, and,
escaping during the night by the southern gate, recrossed the Neapolitan
frontier, the King foremost in the van. Rosselli and the regulars
complained loudly that this disobedience to orders had prevented them
from making the King of Naples prisoner, the Garibaldians maintaining on
their side that this would have been effected had the regulars thought
less about their rations and come to the rescue when first they heard
the distant shots. Messengers sent by the generals to the Triumvirate
bore the complaints of each. Rosselli was recalled, and Garibaldi left
with full liberty of action. But when the French Government disavowed
their envoy-extraordinary--the patriotic, able, straightforward De
Lesseps--instructing Oudinot to enter Rome by fair means or by foul,
sending enormous reenforcements, promising to follow up with the entire
French army if necessary, what could they do but recall Garibaldi with
all possible despatch? Was it not a proof of their confidence in him?
Moreover, on Garibaldi's return to Rome, Mazzini made a last effort to
induce him to unburden his mind, at least to himself, by asking him in
writing to tell him frankly what were his wishes. Here is the laconic
answer, characteristic of the writer; frank and unabashed as the round,
clear handwriting of the original, from which we copy:

  "ROME, June 2d, 1849.

"MAZZINI: Since you ask me what I wish, I will tell you. Here I cannot
avail anything for the good of the Republic, save in two ways: as
dictator with unlimited plenary powers, or as a simple soldier. Choose!

  "Unchangingly yours,

  "GIUSEPPE GARIBALDI."

Again, Garibaldi disapproved the conduct of Mazzini and the Triumvirate
because they refused to allow any acts of violence against religion or
the professors of religion. They had abolished the Inquisition, and used
the edifice to house the people driven from their homes by the siege;
had invited and aided monks and nuns to return to their homes and to
lead the life of citizens. But they had not allowed the confessionals to
be burned in the public market-place. A wretch named Zambianchi, who
ill-treated some inoffending priests, was severely punished "for thus
dishonoring the Republic and humanity." Moreover, the Easter ceremonies
were celebrated as usual; the Triumvirate and the Assembly stood among
the people in the church and in the square to receive the blessing from
the outer balcony of St. Peter's.

All this gave umbrage to Garibaldi, but no hypocrisy and much wisdom
inspired these acts. In the first place, the Triumvirate, and especially
Mazzini, the most religious man we have ever known, were well aware
that, while the temporal power of the papacy might be destroyed by fire
and sword, the spiritual power of the Roman Catholic hierarchy could be
extinguished only in the name of a moral law recognized and accepted as
being higher and more authoritative than any other intermediary between
God and the people--they knew that ideas can be vanquished only by
ideas. Again, as the responsible heads of the Roman Republic, the
Triumvirs were wisely careful not to offend the hearts and consciences
of Catholics abroad. Finally, the very fact that, with four armies at
their gates, life, its feasts and fasts, its workdays and holidays,
could go on as usual, was one highly calculated to strengthen the
Romans' faith in and affection for the new Government. No crimes were
committed; the people came to the Triumvirs as children to their
fathers, and--for Italians a very remarkable thing--they not only paid
down current taxes, but they paid up arrears.

From Garibaldi's brief account, it would almost seem that the
Triumvirate and the Assembly surrendered Rome before absolute necessity
constrained them so to do. He does not tell us how, when the French had
actually entered Rome by the breach, he alone of all the civil and
military commanders refused to head the troops to attack the invaders in
possession. He gave his own reasons, very wise ones it seems to us, in
writing many years later, but in his _Memoirs_ he seems to have
forgotten them. The terrible tidings that the seventh bastion and the
curtain uniting it to the sixth had fallen into the hands of the French
spread through the city. The Triumvirate had the tocsins rung. All the
houses were opened at that sound; in the twinkling of an eye all the
inhabitants were in the streets. General Rosselli and the Minister of
War, all the officers of the staff, Mazzini himself, came to the
Janiculum.

"The people in arms massed around us," writes Garibaldi in a short
record of the siege of Rome, "clamored to drive the French off the
walls. General Rosselli and the Minister of War consented. I opposed the
attempt. I feared the confusion into which our troops would have been
thrown by those new combatants and their irregular movements, the panic
that would be likely by night to seize on troops unaccustomed to fire,
and which actually had assailed our bravest ones on the night of the
16th. I insisted on waiting for the daylight."

He here narrates the daring but unsuccessful attempt of the Lombard
students, who flung themselves on the assailants, and who had gained the
terrace of Casa Barberini, and continues: "But at daylight I had counted
the forces with which we had to contend. I realized that another June 3d
would bereave me of half of the youths left to me, whom I loved as my
sons. I had not the least hope of dislodging the French from their
positions, hence only a useless butchery could have ensued. Rome was
doomed, but after a marvellous and a splendid defence. The fall of Rome,
after such a siege, was the triumph of democracy in Europe. The idea of
preserving four or five thousand devoted combatants who knew me, who
would answer at any time to my call, prevailed. I ordered the retreat,
promising that at five in the evening they should again advance; but I
resolved that no assault should be made."

From this and other writings of Garibaldi it is clear that from the
night of June 21st he considered any further attempt to prevent the
French from entering Rome as worse than useless--that hence he refused
to lead the remnants of his army "to butchery" on the breach. How, then,
was it possible for Mazzini to have retarded the catastrophe
indefinitely, and reserved to Rome "the glory of falling last," _i.e._,
after Venice and Hungary?

Mazzini, beside himself with grief that the armed people had not been
allowed to rush on to the bastions and drive the French from the walls,
wrote a reproachful letter to Manara, then chief of Garibaldi's staff,
and this patriot here seems to have kept the peace, as on the 25th we
find a friendly letter from Garibaldi to the Triumvirate in which he
proposes to leave Manara in Rome, and to conduct, himself, a
considerable number of his men out of Rome to take up position between
the French and Civita Vecchia, to harass them in the rear. And on the
same day, evidently after a meeting and the acceptance by Mazzini of
Garibaldi's project, the latter writes:

  "June 26th, 8 P.M.

"MAZZINI: I propose, therefore (_dunque_), to go out to-morrow evening.
Send me to-morrow morning the chief who is to assume the command here.
Order the general-in-chief to prepare one hundred fifty mounted
dragoons, who, with the fifty lancers, will make up two hundred horse. I
shall take eight hundred of the legion, and to-morrow shall send them to
change their shirts [_i.e._, doff their 'red' for 'gray']. Answer at
once, and keep the plan a profound secret."

The attempt was not made, probably because it was impossible to march
out secretly from any gate, and Manara writes from Villa Spada, 1 P.M.
on the same day:

"CITIZEN TRIUMVIR: I have received your letter. I am somewhat better and
at my post. I have spoken with Pisacane [chief of Rosselli's staff]; we
are perfectly agreed. Both animated by the same spirit, it is impossible
for petty jealousies to come between us. Be assured of this. I have
begged General Garibaldi to return to San Pancrazio, so as not to
deprive that post at this moment of his legion and his efficacious
power. He promises me that before dawn all will be here. Everything is
quiet.

  "MANARA."

This was Manara's last letter to Mazzini; at that same Villa Spada the
yearned-for bullet pierced his heroic heart. Manara died as the
barbarians entered Rome.

And here, to all appearances, is Garibaldi's last letter written in Rome
to Mazzini:

"We have retaken our positions outside San Pancrazio. Let General
Rosselli send me orders; this is now no time for change. Yours,

  "G. GARIBALDI."

No time for anything but one last desperate onslaught at the point of
the bayonet, Garibaldi in the foremost ranks with sword unsheathed,
while Medici from Villa Savorelli renewed the wonders of the Vascello.
Twice the assailants were driven back to their second lines; thrice they
returned in overpowering numbers; but, gaining the gate, they were
received with volleys of musketry from the barricades at the ingress to
Villa Spada and Savorelli. There fell the flower of the Lombards; boys
of the "band of hope"; Garibaldi's giant negro, faithful, brave Anghiar;
six hundred added to the three thousand four hundred corpses on which
the soldiers of _La Grande Nation_ reconstructed the throne of the
supreme Pontiff, and guarded it with their bayonets until the sword of
their self-chosen master fell from his trembling hands at Sedan.




(1849) LIVINGSTONE'S AFRICAN DISCOVERIES, David Livinstone and Thomas
       Hughes


Although Africa, the second largest grand division of the earth, has
figured in history from ancient times, still it has been rightly named,
and until recently was called with good reason, the "Dark Continent."
But though it has been thus designated, as the least known of the
world's grand divisions, the progress of discovery and settlement is
rapidly dispelling the ignorance and mystery to which the designation
was due. The ancient seats of African civilization were confined to the
northern parts of the continent. The Phoenicians are said to have
circumnavigated Africa as early as the seventh century before Christ. In
the middle of the fifteenth century of the present era the Portuguese
explored much of the coastline, and in 1497 Vasco da Gama doubled the
Cape of Good Hope. But no modern explorations of the interior are known
to have been made until the latter part of the eighteenth century. Since
James Bruce, the Scottish traveller, explored the Nile Valley in 1768,
more than thirty others have distinguished themselves by their
discoveries on the African continent.

None of Livingstone's predecessors equalled the achievements of this
Scottish missionary and explorer, who combined with his zeal in the
cause of religion and humanity a spirit of investigation and adventure
that made him also the servant of science, the "advance-agent" of
discovery, settlement, and civilization. These are at last bringing the
"Dark Continent" into the light of a new day that begins to dawn in the
remotest corners of the earth.

David Livingstone was born near Glasgow, Scotland, March 19, 1813, and
he died in Central Africa April 30, 1873. After he had been admitted to
the medical profession and had studied theology, he decided to join
Robert Moffat, the celebrated missionary, in Africa. Livingstone arrived
at Cape Town in 1840, and soon moved toward the interior. He spent
sixteen years in Africa, engaged in medical and missionary labors and in
making his famous and most useful explorations of the country. His own
account of the beginnings of his work, taken from his _Missionary
Travels_, shows the sincere and simple spirit of the man, and his
natural powers of observation and description are seen in his own story
of his first important discovery, that of Lake Ngami. The narrative of
Thomas Hughes, the well-known English author, whose favorite subjects
were manly men and their characteristic deeds, follows the explorer on
the first of his famous journeys in the Zambesi Basin.


DAVID LIVINGSTONE

I embarked for Africa in 1840, and, after a voyage of three months,
reached Cape Town. Spending but a short time there, I started for the
interior by going round to Algoa Bay, and soon proceeded inland, and
spent the following sixteen years of my life, namely, from 1840 to 1856,
in medical and missionary labors there without cost to the inhabitants.

The general instructions I received from the directors of the London
Missionary Society led me, as soon as I reached Kuruman or Lattakoo,
then their farthest inland station from the Cape, to turn my attention
to the north. Without waiting longer at Kuruman than was necessary to
recruit the oxen, which were pretty well tired by the long journey from
Algoa Bay, I proceeded, in company with another missionary, to the
Bechuana or Bakwain country, and found Sechele, with his tribe, located
at Shokuane. We shortly afterward retraced our steps to Kuruman; but as
the objects in view were by no means to be attained by a temporary
excursion of this sort, I determined to make a fresh start into the
interior as soon as possible. Accordingly, after resting three months at
Kuruman, which is a kind of head station in the country, I returned to a
spot about fifteen miles south of Shokuane, called Lepelole (now
Litubaruba). Here, in order to obtain an accurate knowledge of the
language, I cut myself off from all European society for about six
months, and gained by this ordeal an insight into the habits, ways of
thinking, laws, and language of that section of the Bechuanas called
Bakwains, which has proved of incalculable advantage in my intercourse
with them ever since.

In this second journey to Lepelole--so called from a cavern of that
name--I began preparations for a settlement by making a canal to
irrigate gardens from a stream, then flowing copiously, but now quite
dry. When these preparations were well advanced I went northward to
visit the Bakaa and Bamangwato, and the Makalaka, living between 22 deg. and
23 deg. south latitude. The Bakaa Mountains had been visited before by a
trader, who, with his people, all perished from fever. In going round
the northern part of these basaltic hills, near Letloche, I was only ten
days distant from the lower part of the Zouga, which passed by the same
name as Lake Ngami; and I might then (in 1842) have discovered that
lake, had discovery alone been my object. Most of this journey beyond
Shokuane was performed on foot, in consequence of the draught oxen
having become sick. Some of my companions who had recently joined us,
and did not know that I understood a little of their speech, were
overheard by me discussing my appearance and powers: "He is not strong;
he is quite slim, and only appears stout because he puts himself into
those bags [trousers]; he will soon knock up." This caused my Highland
blood to rise, and made me despise the fatigue of keeping them all at
the top of their speed for days together, till I hear