} done." This was, in fact, the course that the American Government had to take. Mr. Seward wrote a long letter in answer to Lord Russell's demand for the surrender of the prisoners, in which he endeavored to make out that Captain Wilkes had acted in accordance with English precedents, but stated that he had not had any authority from the American Government to take such a course, and that the Government did not consider him to have acted in accordance with the law of nations. "It will be seen," Mr. Seward went on to say, "that this Government cannot deny the justice of the claim presented to us, in this respect, upon its merits. We are asked to do to the British nation what we have always insisted all nations ought to do unto us." He announced, therefore, that the four prisoners would be "cheerfully liberated." On January 1st, 1862, the Confederate envoys were given up on the demand of the British Government and sailed for Europe. The question, then, it might be thought, was satisfactorily settled. Unfortunately, however, a great deal of harm had been done in the mean time. Popular clamor in the United States had entirely approved of the action of Captain Wilkes. A mass meeting held in Tammany Hall or the Cooper Institute of New York, or even in the less vehement Faneuil Hall of Boston, is not exactly an assembly qualified to give an authoritative decision on questions of international law. The Secretary of the Navy, however, who ought to have known better but did not, had commended the action of the captain of the San Jacinto. A vote of thanks had been passed to Captain Wilkes in the House of Representatives, Washington, "for his arrest of the traitors Slidell and Mason." Under these circumstances, it is not surprising if people on this side of the ocean should have fancied that the United States were eager to sustain a great act of wrong done against us and against international law. But on the other hand, the arrest was so absolutely without justification that the English Government might well have known President Lincoln's Cabinet could not sustain it. The Governments of all the great European States promptly interposed their good advice, pointing out to Mr. Lincoln the impossibility of maintaining Captain Wilkes's act. The foreign envoys in Washington, and the Orleans princes then in that city, had given the same good advice. Lord Palmerston's Government acted, however, as if an instant appeal to arms must be necessary. Lord Russell sent out to Washington a peremptory demand for the liberation of the envoys and an apology, and insisted on an answer within seven days. Troops were at once ordered out to Canada, and a proclamation was issued forbidding the export of arms and munitions of war. All this was done, although on the very day that Lord Russell was despatching his peremptory letter to Washington, Mr. Seward was writing to London to assure her Majesty's Government that the arrest had been made without any authority from the United States Government, and that the President and his advisers were then considering the proper course to take. The fact that Mr. Seward's letter had been received was, for some reason or other, not made publicly known in England at the time, and the English people were left to believe that the action of Captain Wilkes either was the action of the American Government or had that Government's approval. Public feeling therefore raged and raved a good deal on both sides. American statesmen believed that the English Government was making a wanton and offensive display of a force which they had good reason to know would never be needed. The English public was left under the impression that the American statesmen were only yielding to the display of force. The release of the prisoners did not seem to our people to come with a good grace. It did not seem to the American people to have been asked or accepted with a good grace. Mr. Seward might as well, perhaps, when he had made up his mind to restore the prisoners, have spared himself the trouble of what the Scotch would call a long "haver," to show that if he acted as England had done he should not have given them up at all. But Mr. Seward always was a terribly eloquent despatch writer, and he could not, we may suppose, persuade himself to forego the opportunity of issuing a dissertation. On the other hand, Lord Palmerston's demeanor and language were what he would probably himself have called, in homely language, "bumptious" if some one else had been in question. Lord Palmerston could not deny himself the pleasure of a burst of cheap popularity, and of seeming to flourish the flag of England in the face of presumptuous foes. The episode was singularly unfortunate in its effect upon the temper of the majority in England and America. From that moment there was a formidable party in England who detested the North, and a formidable party in the North who detested England. CHAPTER XLIV. 66 THE cause of peace between nations lost a good friend at the close of 1861. The Prince Consort died. It is believed that the latest advice he gave on public affairs had reference to the dispute between England and the United States about the seizure of the Confederate envoys, and that the advice recommended calmness and forbearance on the part of the English Government. It is not to be supposed, of course, that the Prince Consort even thought of suggesting that the English Government should acquiesce in what had been done, or allow the wrong to remain unredressed. He knew, as every reasonable man might have known, that the error of the American sailor was unjustifiable, and would have to be atoned for; but he probably assumed that for that very reason the atonement might be awaited without excitement, and believed that it would neither be politic nor generous to make a show of compelling by force what must needs be conceded to justice. The death of the Prince Consort, lamentable in every way, was especially to be deplored at a time when influential counsels tending toward forbearance and peace were much needed in England. But it may be said, with literal truth, that when the news of the Prince's death was made known, its possible effect on the public affairs of England was forgotten or unthought of in the regret for the personal loss. Outside the precincts of Windsor Castle itself the event was wholly unexpected. Perhaps even within the precincts of the Castle there was little expectation up to the last that such a calamity was so near. The public had only learned a few days before that the Prince was unwell. On December 8th the Court Circular mentioned that he was confined to his room by a feverish cold. Then it was announced that he was "suffering from fever, unattended by unfavorable symptoms, but likely, from its symptoms, to continue for some time." This latter announcement appeared in the form of a bulletin on Wednesday, December 11th. About the midnight of Saturday, the 14th, there was some sensation and surprise created throughout London by the tolling of the great bell of St. Paul's. Not many people even suspected the import of the unusual sound. It signified the death of the Prince Consort. He died at ten minutes before eleven that Saturday night, in the presence of the Queen, the Prince of Wales, and the Princesses Alice and Helena. The fever had become fierce and wasting on Friday, and from that time it was only a descent to death. Congestion of the lungs set in, the consequence of exhaustion; the Prince fell into utter weakness, and died conscious but without pain. He knew the Queen to the last. His latest look was turned to her. The Prince Consort was little more than forty-two years of age when he died. He had always seemed to be in good although not perhaps robust health; and he had led a singularly temperate life. No one in the kingdom seemed less likely to be prematurely cut off; and his death came on the whole country with the shock of an utter surprise. The regret was universal; and the deepest regret was for the wife he had loved so dearly, and whom he was condemned so soon to leave behind. Every testimony has spoken to the singularly tender and sweet affection of the loving home the Queen and Prince had made for themselves. A domestic happiness rare even among the obscurest was given to them. It is one of the necessities of royal position that marriage should be seldom the union of hearts. The choice is limited by considerations which do not affect people in private life. The convenience of States has to be taken into account; the possible likings and dislikings of peoples whom perhaps the bride and bridegroom have never seen, and are never destined to see. A marriage among princes is, in nine cases out of ten, a marriage of convenience only. Seldom indeed is it made, as that of the Queen was, wholly out of love. Seldom is it even in love-matches when the instincts of love are not deceived and the affection grows stronger with the days. Every one knew that this had been the strange good fortune of the Queen of England. There was something poetic, romantic in the sympathy with which so many faithful and loving hearts turned to her in her hour of unspeakable distress. We have already endeavored to do justice to the character of the Prince Consort; to show what was his intellectual constitution, what were its strong points, and what its weaknesses and limitations. It is not necessary to go over that task again. It will be enough to say that the country which had not understood him at first was beginning more and more to recognize his genuine worth. Even those who are still far from believing that his influence in politics always worked with good result, are ready to admit that his influence, socially and morally, was that which must always come from the example of a pure and noble life. Of him it might fairly have been said in the classic words that from his mouth “nihil unquam insolens neque gloriosum exiit." Perhaps, as we have been considering the influence of the Prince Consort on the councils of England during the earlier part of the American Civil War, it will be appropriate to quote some sentences in which the eminent American historian already mentioned, Dr. Draper, speaks of him. "One illustrious man there was in England," Dr. Draper says, "who saw that the great interests of the future would be better subserved by a sincere friendship with America than by the transitory alliances of Europe. He recognized the bonds of race. His prudent counsels strengthened the determination of the sovereign that the Trent controversy should have an honorable and peaceful solution. Had the desires of these, the most exalted personages in the realm, been more completely fulfilled, the administration of Lord Palmerston would not have cast a disastrous shadow on the future of the Anglo-Saxon race." Dr. Draper may be thought unjust to Lord Palmerston; he certainly is only just to the Prince Consort. After the dispute about the Trent, the feeling between England and the United States became one of distrust, and almost of hostility. We cannot help thinking that the manner in which our Government managed the dispute, the superfluous display of force, like a pistol thrust at the head of a disputant whom mere argument is already bringing to rea |