In 1851 the Prince’s fortunes reached their high-water mark. The success of the Great Exhibition enormously increased his reputation and seemed to assure him henceforward a leading place in the national life. But before the year was out another triumph, in a very different sphere of action, was also his. This triumph, big with fateful consequences, was itself the outcome of a series of complicated circumstances which had been gathering1 to a climax2 for many years.
The unpopularity of Albert in high society had not diminished with time. Aristocratic persons continued to regard him with disfavour; and he on his side, withdrew further and further into a contemptuous reserve. For a moment, indeed, it appeared as if the dislike of the upper classes was about to be suddenly converted into cordiality; for they learnt with amazement3 that the Prince, during a country visit, had ridden to hounds and acquitted5 himself remarkably6 well. They had always taken it for granted that his horsemanship was of some second-rate foreign quality, and here he was jumping five-barred gates and tearing after the fox as if he had been born and bred in Leicestershire. They could hardly believe it; was it possible that they had made a mistake, and that Albert was a good fellow after all? Had he wished to be thought so he would certainly have seized this opportunity, purchased several hunters, and used them constantly. But he had no such desire; hunting bored him, and made Victoria nervous. He continued, as before, to ride, as he himself put it, for exercise or convenience, not for amusement; and it was agreed that though the Prince, no doubt, could keep in his saddle well enough, he was no sportsman.
This was a serious matter. It was not merely that Albert was laughed at by fine ladies and sneered8 at by fine gentlemen; it was not merely that Victoria, who before her marriage had cut some figure in society, had, under her husband’s influence, almost completely given it up. Since Charles the Second the sovereigns of England had, with a single exception, always been unfashionable; and the fact that the exception was George the Fourth seemed to give an added significance to the rule. What was grave was not the lack of fashion, but the lack of other and more important qualities. The hostility9 of the upper classes was symptomatic of an antagonism10 more profound than one of manners or even of tastes. The Prince, in a word, was un-English. What that word precisely11 meant it was difficult to say; but the fact was patent to every eye. Lord Palmerston, also, was not fashionable; the great Whig aristocrats13 looked askance at him, and only tolerated him as an unpleasant necessity thrust upon them by fate. But Lord Palmerston was English through and through, there was something in him that expressed, with extraordinary vigour14, the fundamental qualities of the English race. And he was the very antithesis15 of the Prince. By a curious chance it so happened that this typical Englishman was brought into closer contact than any other of his countrymen with the alien from over the sea. It thus fell out that differences which, in more fortunate circumstances, might have been smoothed away and obliterated17, became accentuated18 to the highest pitch. All the mysterious forces in Albert’s soul leapt out to do battle with his adversary19, and, in the long and violent conflict that followed, it almost seemed as if he was struggling with England herself.
Palmerston’s whole life had been spent in the government of the country. At twenty-two he had been a Minister; at twenty-five he had been offered the Chancellorship20 of the Exchequer21, which, with that prudence22 which formed so unexpected a part of his character, he had declined to accept. His first spell of office had lasted uninterruptedly for twenty-one years. When Lord Grey came into power he received the Foreign Secretaryship, a post which he continued to occupy, with two intervals24, for another twenty-one years. Throughout this period his reputation with the public had steadily25 grown, and when, in 1846, he became Foreign Secretary for the third time, his position in the country was almost, if not quite, on an equality with that of the Prime Minister, Lord John Russell. He was a tall, big man of sixty-two, with a jaunty26 air, a large face, dyed whiskers, and a long sardonic27 upper lip. His private life was far from respectable, but he had greatly strengthened his position in society by marrying, late in life, Lady Cowper, the sister of Lord Melbourne, and one of the most influential28 of the Whig hostesses. Powerful, experienced, and supremely30 self-confident, he naturally paid very little attention to Albert. Why should he? The Prince was interested in foreign affairs? Very well, then; let the Prince pay attention to him — to him, who had been a Cabinet Minister when Albert was in the cradle, who was the chosen leader of a great nation, and who had never failed in anything he had undertaken in the whole course of his life. Not that he wanted the Prince’s attention — far from it: so far as he could see, Albert was merely a young foreigner, who suffered from having no vices31, and whose only claim to distinction was that he had happened to marry the Queen of England. This estimate, as he found out to his cost, was a mistaken one. Albert was by no means insignificant32, and, behind Albert, there was another figure by no means insignificant either — there was Stockmar.
But Palmerston, busy with his plans, his ambitions, and the management of a great department, brushed all such considerations on one side; it was his favourite method of action. He lived by instinct — by a quick eye and a strong hand, a dexterous33 management of every crisis as it arose, a half-unconscious sense of the vital elements in a situation. He was very bold; and nothing gave him more exhilaration than to steer34 the ship of state in a high wind, on a rough sea, with every stitch of canvas on her that she could carry. But there is a point beyond which boldness becomes rashness — a point perceptible only to intuition and not to reason; and beyond that point Palmerston never went. When he saw that the cast demanded it, he could go slow — very slow indeed in fact, his whole career, so full of vigorous adventure, was nevertheless a masterly example of the proverb, “tout vient a point a qui sait attendre.” But when he decided37 to go quick, nobody went quicker. One day, returning from Osborne, he found that he had missed the train to London; he ordered a special, but the station master told him that to put a special train upon the line at that time of day would be dangerous and he could not allow it. Palmerston insisted declaring that he had important business in London, which could not wait. The station-master supported by all the officials, continued to demur38 the company, he said, could not possibly take the responsibility. “On MY responsibility, then!” said Palmerston, in his off-hand, peremptory39 way whereupon the station-master ordered up the train and the Foreign Secretary reached London in time for his work, without an accident. The story, is typical of the happy valiance with which he conducted both his own affairs and those of the nation. “England,” he used to say, “is strong enough to brave consequences.” Apparently40, under Palmerston’s guidance, she was. While the officials protested and shook in their shoes, he would wave them away with his airy “MY responsibility!” and carry the country swiftly along the line of his choice, to a triumphant41 destination — without an accident. His immense popularity was the result partly of his diplomatic successes, partly of his extraordinary personal affability, but chiefly of the genuine intensity42 with which he responded to the feelings and supported the interests of his countrymen. The public knew that it had in Lord Palmerston not only a high-mettled master, but also a devoted43 servant — that he was, in every sense of the word, a public man. When he was Prime Minister, he noticed that iron hurdles44 had been put up on the grass in the Green Park; he immediately wrote to the Minister responsible, ordering, in the severest language, their instant removal, declaring that they were “an intolerable nuisance,” and that the purpose of the grass was “to be walked upon freely and without restraint by the people, old and young, for whose enjoyment46 the parks are maintained.” It was in this spirit that, as Foreign Secretary, he watched over the interests of Englishmen abroad. Nothing could be more agreeable for Englishmen; but foreign governments were less pleased. They found Lord Palmerston interfering47, exasperating48, and alarming. In Paris they spoke49 with bated breath of “ce terrible milord Palmerston;” and in Germany they made a little song about him —
“Hat der Teufel einen Sohn,
So ist er sicher Palmerston.”
But their complaints, their threats, and their agitations50 were all in vain. Palmerston, with his upper lip sardonically51 curving, braved consequences, and held on his course.
The first diplomatic crisis which arose after his return to office, though the Prince and the Queen were closely concerned with it, passed off without serious disagreement between the Court and the Minister. For some years past a curious problem had been perplexing the chanceries of Europe. Spain, ever since the time of Napoleon a prey52 to civil convulsions, had settled down for a short interval23 to a state of comparative quiet under the rule of Christina, the Queen Mother, and her daughter Isabella, the young Queen. In 1846, the question of Isabella’s marriage, which had for long been the subject of diplomatic speculations53, suddenly became acute. Various candidates for her hand were proposed — among others, two cousins of her own, another Spanish prince, and Prince Leopold of Saxe–Coburg, a first cousin of Victoria’s and Albert’s; for different reasons, however, none of these young men seemed altogether satisfactory. Isabella was not yet sixteen; and it might have been supposed that her marriage could be put off for a few years more; but this was considered to be out of the question. “Vous ne savez pas,” said a high authority, “ce que c’est que ces princesses espagnoles; elles ont le diable au corps54, et on a toujours dit que si nous ne nous hations pas, l’heritier viendrait avant le mari.” It might also have been supposed that the young Queen’s marriage was a matter to be settled by herself, her mother, and the Spanish Government; but this again was far from being the case. It had become, by one of those periodical reversions to the ways of the eighteenth century, which, it is rumoured55, are still not unknown in diplomacy56, a question of dominating importance in the foreign policies both of France and England. For several years, Louis Philippe and his Prime Minister Guizot had been privately57 maturing a very subtle plan. It was the object of the French King to repeat the glorious coup58 of Louis XIV, and to abolish the Pyrenees by placing one of his grandsons on the throne of Spain. In order to bring this about, he did not venture to suggest that his younger son, the Duc de Montpensier, should marry Isabella; that would have been too obvious a move, which would have raised immediate45 and insurmountable opposition59. He therefore proposed that Isabella should marry her cousin, the Duke of Cadiz, while Montpensier married Isabella’s younger sister, the Infanta Fernanda; and pray, what possible objection could there be to that? The wily old King whispered into the chaste60 ears of Guizot the key to the secret; he had good reason to believe that the Duke of Cadiz was incapable61 of having children, and therefore the offspring of Fernanda would inherit the Spanish crown. Guizot rubbed his hands, and began at once to set the necessary springs in motion; but, of course, the whole scheme was very soon divulged62 and understood. The English Government took an extremely serious view of the matter; the balance of power was clearly at stake, and the French intrigue63 must be frustrated64 at all hazards. A diplomatic struggle of great intensity followed; and it occasionally appeared that a second War of the Spanish Succession was about to break out. This was avoided, but the consequences of this strange imbroglio65 were far-reaching and completely different from what any of the parties concerned could have guessed.
In the course of the long and intricate negotiations66 there was one point upon which Louis Philippe laid a special stress — the candidature of Prince Leopold of Saxe–Coburg. The prospect67 of a marriage between a Coburg Prince and the Queen of Spain was, he declared, at least as threatening to the balance of power in Europe as that of a marriage between the Duc de Montpensier and the Infanta; and, indeed, there was much to be said for this contention68. The ruin which had fallen upon the House of Coburg during the Napoleonic wars had apparently only served to multiply its vitality69, for that princely family had by now extended itself over Europe in an extraordinary manner. King Leopold was firmly fixed70 in Belgium; his niece was Queen of England; one of his nephews was the husband of the Queen of England, and another the husband of the Queen of Portugal; yet another was Duke of Wurtemberg. Where was this to end? There seemed to be a Coburg Trust ready to send out one of its members at any moment to fill up any vacant place among the ruling families of Europe. And even beyond Europe there were signs of this infection spreading. An American who had arrived in Brussels had assured King Leopold that there was a strong feeling in the United States in favour of monarchy72 instead of the misrule of mobs, and had suggested, to the delight of His Majesty73, that some branch of the Coburg family might be available for the position. That danger might, perhaps, be remote; but the Spanish danger was close at hand; and if Prince Leopold were to marry Queen Isabella the position of France would be one of humiliation74, if not of positive danger. Such were the asseverations of Louis Philippe. The English Government had no wish to support Prince Leopold, and though Albert and Victoria had some hankerings for the match, the wisdom of Stockmar had induced them to give up all thoughts of it. The way thus seemed open for a settlement: England would be reasonable about Leopold, if France would be reasonable about Montpensier. At the Chateau75 d’Eu, the agreement was made, in a series of conversations between the King and Guizot on the one side, and the Queen, the Prince, and Lord Aberdeen on the other. Aberdeen, as Foreign Minister, declared that England would neither recognise nor support Prince Leopold as a candidate for the hand of the Queen of Spain; while Louis Philippe solemnly promised, both to Aberdeen and to Victoria, that the Duc de Montpensier should not marry the Infanta Fernanda until after the Queen was married and had issue. All went well, and the crisis seemed to be over, when the whole question was suddenly re-opened by Palmerston, who had succeeded Aberdeen at the Foreign Office. In a despatch76 to the English Minister at Madrid, he mentioned, in a list of possible candidates for Queen Isabella’s hand, Prince Leopold of Coburg; and at the same time he took occasion to denounce in violent language the tyranny and incompetence77 of the Spanish Government. This despatch, indiscreet in any case, was rendered infinitely79 more so by being communicated to Guizot. Louis Philippe saw his opportunity and pounced80 on it. Though there was nothing in Palmerston’s language to show that he either recognised or supported Prince Leopold, the King at once assumed that the English had broken their engagement, and that he was therefore free to do likewise. He then sent the despatch to the Queen Mother, declared that the English were intriguing81 for the Coburg marriage, bade her mark the animosity of Palmerston against the Spanish Government, and urged her to escape from her difficulties and ensure the friendship of France by marrying Isabella to the Duke of Cadiz and Fernanda to Montpensier. The Queen Mother, alarmed and furious, was easily convinced. There was only one difficulty: Isabella loathed82 the very sight of her cousin. But this was soon surmounted83; there was a wild supper-party at the Palace, and in the course of it the young girl was induced to consent to anything that was asked of her. Shortly after, and on the same day, both the marriages took place.
The news burst like a bomb on the English Government, who saw with rage and mortification84 that they had been completely outmanoeuvred by the crafty85 King. Victoria, in particular, was outraged86. Not only had she been the personal recipient87 of Louis Philippe’s pledge, but he had won his way to her heart by presenting the Prince of Wales with a box of soldiers and sending the Princess Royal a beautiful Parisian doll with eyes that opened and shut. And now insult was added to injury. The Queen of the French wrote her a formal letter, calmly announcing, as a family event in which she was sure Victoria would be interested, the marriage of her son, Montpensier —“qui ajoutera a notre bonheur interieur, le seul vrai dans ce monde, et que vous, madame, savez si bien apprecier.” But the English Queen had not long to wait for her revenge. Within eighteen months the monarchy of Louis Philippe, discredited88, unpopular, and fatally weakened by the withdrawal89 of English support, was swept into limbo90, while he and his family threw themselves as suppliant91 fugitives93 at the feet of Victoria.
ii
In this affair both the Queen and the Prince had been too much occupied with the delinquencies of Louis Philippe to have any wrath94 to spare for those of Palmerston; and, indeed, on the main issue, Palmerston’s attitude and their own had been in complete agreement. But in this the case was unique. In every other foreign complication — and they were many and serious — during the ensuing years, the differences between the royal couple and the Foreign Secretary were constant and profound. There was a sharp quarrel over Portugal, where violently hostile parties were flying at each other’s throats. The royal sympathy was naturally enlisted95 on behalf of the Queen and her Coburg husband, while Palmerston gave his support to the progressive elements in the country. It was not until 1848, however, that the strain became really serious. In that year of revolutions, when, in all directions and with alarming frequency, crowns kept rolling off royal heads, Albert and Victoria were appalled96 to find that the policy of England was persistently97 directed — in Germany, in Switzerland, in Austria, in Italy, in Sicily — so as to favour the insurgent98 forces. The situation, indeed, was just such a one as the soul of Palmerston loved. There was danger and excitement, the necessity of decision, the opportunity for action, on every hand. A disciple99 of Canning, with an English gentleman’s contempt and dislike of foreign potentates100 deep in his heart, the spectacle of the popular uprisings, and of the oppressors bundled ignominiously102 out of the palaces they had disgraced, gave him unbounded pleasure, and he was determined103 that there should be no doubt whatever, all over the Continent, on which side in the great struggle England stood. It was not that he had the slightest tincture in him of philosophical104 radicalism105; he had no philosophical tinctures of any kind; he was quite content to be inconsistent — to be a Conservative at home and a Liberal abroad. There were very good reasons for keeping the Irish in their places; but what had that to do with it? The point was this — when any decent man read an account of the political prisons in Naples his gorge106 rose. He did not want war; but he saw that without war a skilful107 and determined use of England’s power might do much to further the cause of the Liberals in Europe. It was a difficult and a hazardous108 game to play, but he set about playing it with delighted alacrity109. And then, to his intense annoyance110, just as he needed all his nerve and all possible freedom of action, he found himself being hampered111 and distracted at every turn by . . . those people at Osborne. He saw what it was; the opposition was systematic112 and informed, and the Queen alone would have been incapable of it; the Prince was at the bottom of the whole thing. It was exceedingly vexatious; but Palmerston was in a hurry, and could not wait; the Prince, if he would insist upon interfering, must be brushed on one side.
Albert was very angry. He highly disapproved113 both of Palmerston’s policy and of his methods of action. He was opposed to absolutism; but in his opinion Palmerston’s proceedings114 were simply calculated to substitute for absolutism, all over Europe, something no better and very possibly worse — the anarchy115 of faction116 and mob violence. The dangers of this revolutionary ferment117 were grave; even in England Chartism was rampant118 — a sinister119 movement, which might at any moment upset the Constitution and abolish the Monarchy. Surely, with such dangers at home, this was a very bad time to choose for encouraging lawlessness abroad. He naturally took a particular interest in Germany. His instincts, his affections, his prepossessions, were ineradicably German; Stockmar was deeply involved in German politics; and he had a multitude of relatives among the ruling German families, who, from the midst of the hurly-burly of revolution, wrote him long and agitated120 letters once a week. Having considered the question of Germany’s future from every point of view, he came to the conclusion, under Stockmar’s guidance, that the great aim for every lover of Germany should be her unification under the sovereignty of Prussia. The intricacy of the situation was extreme, and the possibilities of good or evil which every hour might bring forth121 were incalculable; yet he saw with horror that Palmerston neither understood nor cared to understand the niceties of this momentous122 problem, but rushed on blindly, dealing123 blows to right and left, quite — so far as he could see — without system, and even without motive124 — except, indeed, a totally unreasonable125 distrust of the Prussian State.
But his disagreement with the details of Palmerston’s policy was in reality merely a symptom of the fundamental differences between the characters of the two men. In Albert’s eyes Palmerston was a coarse, reckless egotist, whose combined arrogance126 and ignorance must inevitably127 have their issue in folly128 and disaster. Nothing could be more antipathetic to him than a mind so strangely lacking in patience, in reflection, in principle, and in the habits of ratiocination129. For to him it was intolerable to think in a hurry, to jump to slapdash decisions, to act on instincts that could not be explained. Everything must be done in due order, with careful premeditation; the premises130 of the position must first be firmly established; and he must reach the correct conclusion by a regular series of rational steps. In complicated questions — and what questions, rightly looked at, were not complicated? — to commit one’s thoughts to paper was the wisest course, and it was the course which Albert, laborious131 though it might be, invariably adopted. It was as well, too, to draw up a reasoned statement after an event, as well as before it; and accordingly, whatever happened, it was always found that the Prince had made a memorandum132. On one occasion he reduced to six pages of foolscap the substance of a confidential133 conversation with Sir Robert Peel, and, having read them aloud to him, asked him to append his signature; Sir Robert, who never liked to commit himself, became extremely uneasy; upon which the Prince, understanding that it was necessary to humour the singular susceptibilities of Englishmen, with great tact16 dropped that particular memorandum into the fire. But as for Palmerston, he never even gave one so much as a chance to read him a memorandum, he positively135 seemed to dislike discussion; and, before one knew where one was, without any warning whatever, he would plunge136 into some hare-brained, violent project, which, as likely as not, would logically involve a European war. Closely connected, too, with this cautious, painstaking137 reasonableness of Albert’s, was his desire to examine questions thoroughly138 from every point of view, to go down to the roots of things, and to act in strict accordance with some well-defined principle. Under Stockmar’s tutelage he was constantly engaged in enlarging his outlook and in endeavouring to envisage139 vital problems both theoretically and practically — both with precision and with depth. To one whose mind was thus habitually140 occupied, the empirical activities of Palmerston, who had no notion what a principle meant, resembled the incoherent vagaries141 of a tiresome142 child. What did Palmerston know of economics, of science, of history? What did he care for morality and education? How much consideration had he devoted in the whole course of his life to the improvement of the condition of the working-classes and to the general amelioration of the human race? The answers to such questions were all too obvious; and yet it is easy to imagine, also, what might have been Palmerston’s jaunty comment. “Ah! your Royal Highness is busy with fine schemes and beneficent calculations exactly! Well, as for me, I must say I’m quite satisfied with my morning’s work — I’ve had the iron hurdles taken out of the Green Park.”
The exasperating man, however, preferred to make no comment, and to proceed in smiling silence on his inexcusable way. The process of “brushing on one side” very soon came into operation. Important Foreign Office despatches were either submitted to the Queen so late that there was no time to correct them, or they were not submitted to her at all; or, having been submitted, and some passage in them being objected to and an alteration143 suggested, they were after all sent off in their original form. The Queen complained, the Prince complained: both complained together. It was quite useless. Palmerston was most apologetic — could not understand how it had occurred — must give the clerks a wigging144 — certainly Her Majesty’s wishes should be attended to, and such a thing should never happen again. But, of course, it very soon happened again, and the royal remonstrances146 redoubled. Victoria, her partisan147 passions thoroughly aroused, imported into her protests a personal vehemence148 which those of Albert lacked. Did Lord Palmerston forget that she was Queen of England? How could she tolerate a state of affairs in which despatches written in her name were sent abroad without her approval or even her knowledge? What could be more derogatory to her position than to be obliged to receive indignant letters from the crowned heads to whom those despatches were addressed — letters which she did not know how to answer, since she so thoroughly agreed with them? She addressed herself to the Prime Minister. “No remonstrance145 has any effect with Lord Palmerston,” she said. “Lord Palmerston,” she told him on another occasion, “has as usual pretended not to have had time to submit the draft to the Queen before he had sent it off.” She summoned Lord John to her presence, poured out her indignation, and afterwards, on the advice of Albert, noted149 down what had passed in a memorandum: “I said that I thought that Lord Palmerston often endangered the honour of England by taking a very prejudiced and one-sided view of a question; that his writings were always as bitter as gall150 and did great harm, which Lord John entirely151 assented153 to, and that I often felt quite ill from anxiety.” Then she turned to her uncle. “The state of Germany,” she wrote in a comprehensive and despairing review of the European situation, “is dreadful, and one does feel quite ashamed about that once really so peaceful and happy country. That there are still good people there I am sure, but they allow themselves to be worked upon in a frightful154 and shameful155 way. In France a crisis seems at hand. WHAT a very bad figure we cut in this mediation156! Really it is quite immoral157, with Ireland quivering in our grasp and ready to throw off her allegiance at any moment, for us to force Austria to give up her lawful158 possessions. What shall we say if Canada, Malta, etc., begin to trouble us? It hurts me terribly.” But what did Lord Palmerston care?
Lord John’s position grew more and more irksome. He did not approve of his colleague’s treatment of the Queen. When he begged him to be more careful, he was met with the reply that 28,000 despatches passed through the Foreign Office in a single year, that, if every one of these were to be subjected to the royal criticism, the delay would be most serious, that, as it was, the waste of time and the worry involved in submitting drafts to the meticulous159 examination of Prince Albert was almost too much for an overworked Minister, and that, as a matter of fact, the postponement160 of important decisions owing to this cause had already produced very unpleasant diplomatic consequences. These excuses would have impressed Lord John more favourably161 if he had not himself had to suffer from a similar neglect. As often as not Palmerston failed to communicate even to him the most important despatches. The Foreign Secretary was becoming an almost independent power, acting162 on his own initiative, and swaying the policy of England on his own responsibility. On one occasion, in 1847, he had actually been upon the point of threatening to break off diplomatic relations with France without consulting either the Cabinet or the Prime Minister. And such incidents were constantly recurring163. When this became known to the Prince, he saw that his opportunity had come. If he could only drive in to the utmost the wedge between the two statesmen, if he could only secure the alliance of Lord John, then the suppression or the removal of Lord Palmerston would be almost certain to follow. He set about the business with all the pertinacity164 of his nature. Both he and the Queen put every kind of pressure upon the Prime Minister. They wrote, they harangued165, they relapsed into awful silence. It occurred to them that Lord Clarendon, an important member of the Cabinet, would be a useful channel for their griefs. They commanded him to dine at the Palace, and, directly the meal was over, “the Queen,” as he described it afterwards, “exploded, and went with the utmost vehemence and bitterness into the whole of Palmerston’s conduct, all the effects produced all over the world, and all her own feelings and sentiments about it.” When she had finished, the Prince took up the tale, with less excitement, but with equal force. Lord Clarendon found himself in an awkward situation; he disliked Palmerston’s policy, but he was his colleague, and he disapproved of the attitude of his royal hosts. In his opinion, they were “wrong in wishing that courtiers rather than Ministers should conduct the affairs of the country,” and he thought that they “laboured under the curious mistake that the Foreign Office was their peculiar166 department, and that they had the right to control, if not to direct, the foreign policy of England.” He, therefore, with extreme politeness, gave it to be understood that he would not commit himself in any way. But Lord John, in reality, needed no pressure. Attacked by his Sovereign, ignored by his Foreign Secretary, he led a miserable167 life. With the advent35 of the dreadful Schleswig–Holstein question — the most complex in the whole diplomatic history of Europe — his position, crushed between the upper and the nether168 mill-stones, grew positively unbearable169. He became anxious above all things to get Palmerston out of the Foreign Office. But then — supposing Palmerston refused to go?
In a memorandum made by the Prince, at about this time, of an interview between himself, the Queen, and the Prime Minister, we catch a curious glimpse of the states of mind of those three high personages — the anxiety and irritation170 of Lord John, the vehement171 acrimony of Victoria, and the reasonable animosity of Albert — drawn172 together, as it were, under the shadow of an unseen Presence, the cause of that celestial173 anger — the gay, portentous174 Palmerston. At one point in the conversation Lord John observed that he believed the Foreign Secretary would consent to a change of offices; Lord Palmerston, he said, realised that he had lost the Queen’s confidence — though only on public, and not on personal, grounds. But on that, the Prince noted, “the Queen interrupted Lord John by remarking that she distrusted him on PERSONAL grounds also, but I remarked that Lord Palmerston had so far at least seen rightly; that he had become disagreeable to the Queen, not on account of his person, but of his political doings — to which the Queen assented.” Then the Prince suggested that there was a danger of the Cabinet breaking up, and of Lord Palmerston returning to office as Prime Minister. But on that point Lord John was reassuring175: he “thought Lord Palmerston too old to do much in the future (having passed his sixty-fifth year).” Eventually it was decided that nothing could be done for the present, but that the UTMOST SECRECY176 must be observed; and so the conclave177 ended.
At last, in 1850, deliverance seemed to be at hand. There were signs that the public were growing weary of the alarums and excursions of Palmerston’s diplomacy; and when his support of Don Pacifico, a British subject, in a quarrel with the Greek Government, seemed to be upon the point of involving the country in a war not only with Greece but also with France, and possibly with Russia into the bargain, a heavy cloud of distrust and displeasure appeared to be gathering and about to burst over his head. A motion directed against him in the House of Lords was passed by a substantial majority. The question was next to be discussed in the House of Commons, where another adverse178 vote was not improbable, and would seal the doom179 of the Minister. Palmerston received the attack with complete nonchalance180, and then, at the last possible moment, he struck. In a speech of over four hours, in which exposition, invective181, argument, declamation182, plain talk and resounding183 eloquence184 were mingled185 together with consummate186 art and extraordinary felicity, he annihilated187 his enemies. The hostile motion was defeated, and Palmerston was once more the hero of the hour. Simultaneously188, Atropos herself conspired189 to favour him. Sir Robert Peel was thrown from his horse and killed. By this tragic190 chance, Palmerston saw the one rival great enough to cope with him removed from his path. He judged — and judged rightly — that he was the most popular man in England; and when Lord John revived the project of his exchanging the Foreign Office for some other position in the Cabinet, he absolutely refused to stir.
Great was the disappointment of Albert; great was the indignation of Victoria. “The House of Commons,” she wrote, “is becoming very unmanageable and troublesome.” The Prince, perceiving that Palmerston was more firmly fixed in the saddle than ever, decided that something drastic must be done. Five months before, the prescient Baron191 had drawn up, in case of emergency, a memorandum, which had been carefully docketed, and placed in a pigeon-hole ready to hand. The emergency had now arisen, and the memorandum must be used. The Queen copied out the words of Stockmar, and sent them to the Prime Minister, requesting him to show her letter to Palmerston. “She thinks it right,” she wrote, “in order TO PREVENT ANY MISTAKE for the FUTURE, shortly to explain WHAT IT IS SHE EXPECTS FROM HER FOREIGN SECRETARY. She requires: (1) That he will distinctly state what he proposes in a given case, in order that the Queen may know as distinctly to WHAT she has given her Royal sanction; (2) Having ONCE GIVEN her sanction to a measure, that it be not arbitrarily altered or modified by the Minister; such an act she must consider as failing in sincerity192 towards the Crown, and justly to be visited by the exercise of her Constitutional right of dismissing that Minister.” Lord John Russell did as he was bid, and forwarded the Queen’s letter to Lord Palmerston. This transaction, which was of grave constitutional significance, was entirely unknown to the outside world.
If Palmerston had been a sensitive man, he would probably have resigned on the receipt of the Queen’s missive. But he was far from sensitive; he loved power, and his power was greater than ever; an unerring instinct told him that this was not the time to go. Nevertheless, he was seriously perturbed193. He understood at last that he was struggling with a formidable adversary, whose skill and strength, unless they were mollified, might do irreparable injury to his career. He therefore wrote to Lord John, briefly194 acquiescing195 in the Queen’s requirements —“I have taken a copy of this memorandum of the Queen and will not fail to attend to the directions which it contains”— and at the same time, he asked for an interview with the Prince. Albert at once summoned him to the Palace, and was astonished to observe, as he noted in a memorandum, that when Palmerston entered the room “he was very much agitated, shook, and had tears in his eyes, so as quite to move me, who never under any circumstances had known him otherwise than with a bland196 smile on his face.” The old statesman was profuse197 in protestations and excuses; the young one was coldly polite. At last, after a long and inconclusive conversation, the Prince, drawing himself up, said that, in order to give Lord Palmerston “an example of what the Queen wanted,” he would “ask him a question point-blank.” Lord Palmerston waited in respectful silence, while the Prince proceeded as follows: “You are aware that the Queen has objected to the Protocol198 about Schleswig, and of the grounds on which she has done so. Her opinion has been overruled, the Protocol stating the desire of the Great Powers to see the integrity of the Danish monarchy preserved has been signed, and upon this the King of Denmark has invaded Schleswig, where the war is raging. If Holstein is attacked also, which is likely, the Germans will not be restrained from flying to her assistance; Russia has menaced to interfere199 with arms, if the Schleswigers are successful. What will you do, if this emergency arises (provoking most likely an European war), and which will arise very probably when we shall be at Balmoral and Lord John in another part of Scotland? The Queen expects from your foresight200 that you have contemplated201 this possibility, and requires a categorical answer as to what you would do in the event supposed.” Strangely enough, to this pointblank question, the Foreign Secretary appeared to be unable to reply. The whole matter, he said, was extremely complicated, and the contingencies202 mentioned by His Royal Highness were very unlikely to arise. The Prince persisted; but it was useless; for a full hour he struggled to extract a categorical answer, until at length Palmerston bowed himself out of the room. Albert threw up his hands in shocked amazement: what could one do with such a man?
What indeed? For, in spite of all his apologies and all his promises, within a few weeks the incorrigible203 reprobate204 was at his tricks again. The Austrian General Haynau, notorious as a rigorous suppressor of rebellion in Hungary and Italy, and in particular as a flogger of women, came to England and took it into his head to pay a visit to Messrs. Barclay and Perkins’s brewery205. The features of “General Hyena,” as he was everywhere called — his grim thin face, his enormous pepper-and-salt moustaches — had gained a horrid206 celebrity207; and it so happened that among the clerks at the brewery there was a refugee from Vienna, who had given his fellow-workers a first-hand account of the General’s characteristics. The Austrian Ambassador, scenting208 danger, begged his friend not to appear in public, or, if he must do so, to cut off his moustaches first. But the General would take no advice. He went to the brewery, was immediately recognised, surrounded by a crowd of angry draymen, pushed about, shouted at, punched in the ribs209, and pulled by the moustaches until, bolting down an alley210 with the mob at his heels brandishing211 brooms and roaring “Hyena!” he managed to take refuge in a public house, whence he was removed under the protection of several policemen. The Austrian Government was angry and demanded explanations. Palmerston, who, of course, was privately delighted by the incident, replied regretting what had occurred, but adding that in his opinion the General had “evinced a want of propriety212 in coming to England at the present moment;” and he delivered his note to the Ambassador without having previously213 submitted it to the Queen or to the Prime Minister. Naturally, when this was discovered, there was a serious storm. The Prince was especially indignant; the conduct of the draymen he regarded, with disgust and alarm, as “a slight foretaste of what an unregulated mass of illiterate214 people is capable;” and Palmerston was requested by Lord John to withdraw his note, and to substitute for it another from which all censure215 of the General had been omitted. On this the Foreign Secretary threatened resignation, but the Prime Minister was firm. For a moment the royal hopes rose high, only to be dashed to the ground again by the cruel compliance216 of the enemy. Palmerston, suddenly lamblike, agreed to everything; the note was withdrawn217 and altered, and peace was patched up once more.
It lasted for a year, and then, in October, 1851, the arrival of Kossuth in England brought on another crisis. Palmerston’s desire to receive the Hungarian patriot218 at his house in London was vetoed by Lord John; once more there was a sharp struggle; once more Palmerston, after threatening resignation, yielded. But still the insubordinate man could not keep quiet. A few weeks later a deputation of Radicals219 from Finsbury and Islington waited on him at the Foreign Office and presented him with an address, in which the Emperors of Austria and Russia were stigmatised as “odious and detestable assassins” and “merciless tyrants220 and despots.” The Foreign Secretary in his reply, while mildly deprecating these expressions, allowed his real sentiments to appear with a most undiplomatic insouciance221 There was an immediate scandal, and the Court flowed over with rage and vituperation. “I think,” said the Baron, “the man has been for some time insane.” Victoria, in an agitated letter, urged Lord John to assert his authority. But Lord John perceived that on this matter the Foreign Secretary had the support of public opinion, and he judged it wiser to bide222 his time.
He had not long to wait. The culmination223 of the long series of conflicts, threats, and exacerbations came before the year was out. On December 2, Louis Napoleon’s coup d’etat took place in Paris; and on the following day Palmerston, without consulting anybody, expressed in a conversation with the French Ambassador his approval of Napoleon’s act. Two days later, he was instructed by the Prime Minister, in accordance with a letter from the Queen, that it was the policy of the English Government to maintain an attitude of strict neutrality towards the affairs of France. Nevertheless, in an official despatch to the British Ambassador in Paris, he repeated the approval of the coup d’etat which he had already given verbally to the French Ambassador in London. This despatch was submitted neither to the Queen nor to the Prime Minister. Lord John’s patience, as he himself said, “was drained to the last drop.” He dismissed Lord Palmerston.
Victoria was in ecstasies224; and Albert knew that the triumph was his even more than Lord John’s. It was his wish that Lord Granville, a young man whom he believed to be pliant92 to his influence, should be Palmerston’s successor; and Lord Granville was appointed. Henceforward, it seemed that the Prince would have his way in foreign affairs. After years of struggle and mortification, success greeted him on every hand. In his family, he was an adored master; in the country, the Great Exhibition had brought him respect and glory; and now in the secret seats of power he had gained a new supremacy225. He had wrestled226 with the terrible Lord Palmerston, the embodiment of all that was most hostile to him in the spirit of England, and his redoubtable227 opponent had been overthrown228. Was England herself at his feet? It might be so; and yet . . . it is said that the sons of England have a certain tiresome quality: they never know when they are beaten. It was odd, but Palmerston was positively still jaunty. Was it possible? Could he believe, in his blind arrogance, that even his ignominious101 dismissal from office was something that could be brushed aside?
iii
The Prince’s triumph was short-lived. A few weeks later, owing to Palmerston’s influence, the Government was defeated in the House, and Lord John resigned. Then, after a short interval, a coalition229 between the Whigs and the followers230 of Peel came into power, under the premiership of Lord Aberdeen. Once more, Palmerston was in the Cabinet. It was true that he did not return to the Foreign Office; that was something to the good; in the Home Department it might be hoped that his activities would be less dangerous and disagreeable. But the Foreign Secretary was no longer the complacent232 Granville; and in Lord Clarendon the Prince knew that he had a Minister to deal with, who, discreet78 and courteous233 as he was, had a mind of his own. These changes, however, were merely the preliminaries of a far more serious development.
Events, on every side, were moving towards a catastrophe234. Suddenly the nation found itself under the awful shadow of imminent235 war. For several months, amid the shifting mysteries of diplomacy and the perplexed236 agitations of politics, the issue grew more doubtful and more dark, while the national temper was strained to the breaking-point. At the very crisis of the long and ominous237 negotiations, it was announced that Lord Palmerston had resigned. Then the pent-up fury of the people burst forth. They had felt that in the terrible complexity238 of events they were being guided by weak and embarrassed counsels; but they had been reassured239 by the knowledge that at the centre of power there was one man with strength, with courage, with determination, in whom they could put their trust. They now learnt that that man was no longer among their leaders. Why? In their rage, anxiety, and nervous exhaustion240, they looked round desperately241 for some hidden and horrible explanation of what had occurred. They suspected plots, they smelt242 treachery in the air. It was easy to guess the object upon which their frenzy243 would vent36 itself. Was there not a foreigner in the highest of high places, a foreigner whose hostility to their own adored champion was unrelenting and unconcealed? The moment that Palmerston’s resignation was known, there was a universal outcry and an extraordinary tempest of anger and hatred244 burst, with unparalleled violence, upon the head of the Prince.
It was everywhere asserted and believed that the Queen’s husband was a traitor245 to the country, that he was a tool of the Russian Court, that in obedience246 to Russian influences he had forced Palmerston out of the Government, and that he was directing the foreign policy of England in the interests of England’s enemies. For many weeks these accusations248 filled the whole of the press; repeated at public meetings, elaborated in private talk, they flew over the country, growing every moment more extreme and more improbable. While respectable newspapers thundered out their grave invectives, halfpenny broadsides, hawked249 through the streets of London, re-echoed in doggerel250 vulgarity the same sentiments and the same suspicions4. At last the wildest rumours251 began to spread.
4“The Turkish war both far and near
Has played the very deuce then,
And little Al, the royal pal12,
They say has turned a Russian;
Old Aberdeen, as may be seen,
Looks woeful pale and yellow,
And Old John Bull had his belly252 full
Of dirty Russian tallow.”
Chorus:
“We’ll send him home and make him groan253,
Oh, Al! you’ve played the deuce then;
The German lad has acted sad
And turned tail with the Russians.”
“Last Monday night, all in a fright,
Al out of bed did tumble.
The German lad was raving254 mad,
How he did groan and grumble255!
He cried to Vic, ‘I’ve cut my stick:
To St. Petersburg go right slap.’
When Vic, ’tis said, jumped out of bed,
And wopped him with her night-cap.”
From Lovely Albert! a broadside preserved at the British Museum.
In January, 1854, it was whispered that the Prince had been seized, that he had been found guilty of high treason, that he was to be committed to the Tower. The Queen herself, some declared, had been arrested, and large crowds actually collected round the Tower to watch the incarceration256 of the royal miscreants257.5
5“You Jolly Turks, now go to work,
And show the Bear your power.
It is rumoured over Britain’s isle258
That A——— is in the Tower;
The postmen some suspicion had,
And opened the two letters,
’Twas a pity sad the German lad
Should not have known much better!”
Lovely Albert!
These fantastic hallucinations, the result of the fevered atmosphere of approaching war, were devoid259 of any basis in actual fact. Palmerston’s resignation had been in all probability totally disconnected with foreign policy; it had certainly been entirely spontaneous, and had surprised the Court as much as the nation. Nor had Albert’s influence been used in any way to favour the interests of Russia. As often happens in such cases, the Government had been swinging backwards260 and forwards between two incompatible261 policies — that of non-interference and that of threats supported by force — either of which, if consistently followed, might well have had a successful and peaceful issue, but which, mingled together, could only lead to war. Albert, with characteristic scrupulosity262, attempted to thread his way through the complicated labyrinth263 of European diplomacy, and eventually was lost in the maze4. But so was the whole of the Cabinet; and, when war came, his anti-Russian feelings were quite as vehement as those of the most bellicose264 of Englishmen.
Nevertheless, though the specific charges levelled against the Prince were without foundation, there were underlying265 elements in the situation which explained, if they did not justify266, the popular state of mind. It was true that the Queen’s husband was a foreigner, who had been brought up in a foreign Court, was impregnated with foreign ideas, and was closely related to a multitude of foreign princes. Clearly this, though perhaps an unavoidable, was an undesirable267, state of affairs; nor were the objections to it merely theoretical; it had in fact produced unpleasant consequences of a serious kind. The Prince’s German proclivities268 were perpetually lamented269 by English Ministers; Lord Palmerston, Lord Clarendon, Lord Aberdeen, all told the same tale; and it was constantly necessary, in grave questions of national policy, to combat the prepossessions of a Court in which German views and German sentiments held a disproportionate place. As for Palmerston, his language on this topic was apt to be unbridled. At the height of his annoyance over his resignation, he roundly declared that he had been made a victim to foreign intrigue. He afterwards toned down this accusation247; but the mere7 fact that such a suggestion from such a quarter was possible at all showed to what unfortunate consequences Albert’s foreign birth and foreign upbringing might lead.
But this was not all. A constitutional question of the most profound importance was raised by the position of the Prince in England. His presence gave a new prominence270 to an old problem — the precise definition of the functions and the powers of the Crown. Those functions and powers had become, in effect, his; and what sort of use was he making of them? His views as to the place of the Crown in the Constitution are easily ascertainable271; for they were Stockmar’s; and it happens that we possess a detailed272 account of Stockmar’s opinions upon the subject in a long letter addressed by him to the Prince at the time of this very crisis, just before the outbreak of the Crimean War. Constitutional Monarchy, according to the Baron, had suffered an eclipse since the passing of the Reform Bill. It was now “constantly in danger of becoming a pure Ministerial Government.” The old race of Tories, who “had a direct interest in upholding the prerogatives274 of the Crown,” had died out; and the Whigs were “nothing but partly conscious, partly unconscious Republicans, who stand in the same relation to the Throne as the wolf does to the lamb.” There was a rule that it was unconstitutional to introduce “the name and person of the irresponsible Sovereign” into parliamentary debates on constitutional matters; this was “a constitutional fiction, which, although undoubtedly275 of old standing134, was fraught276 with danger”; and the Baron warned the Prince that “if the English Crown permit a Whig Ministry277 to follow this rule in practice, without exception, you must not wonder if in a little time you find the majority of the people impressed with the belief that the King, in the view of the law, is nothing but a mandarin278 figure, which has to nod its head in assent152, or shake it in denial, as his Minister pleases.” To prevent this from happening, it was of extreme importance, said the Baron, “that no opportunity should be let slip of vindicating279 the legitimate280 position of the Crown.” “And this is not hard to do,” he added, “and can never embarrass a Minister where such straightforward281 loyal personages as the Queen and the Prince are concerned.” In his opinion, the very lowest claim of the Royal Prerogative273 should include “a right on the part of the King to be the permanent President of his Ministerial Council.” The Sovereign ought to be “in the position of a permanent Premier231, who takes rank above the temporary head of the Cabinet, and in matters of discipline exercises supreme29 authority.” The Sovereign “may even take a part in the initiation282 and the maturing of the Government measures; for it would be unreasonable to expect that a king, himself as able, as accomplished283, and as patriotic284 as the best of his Ministers, should be prevented from making use of these qualities at the deliberations of his Council.” “The judicious285 exercise of this right,” concluded the Baron, “which certainly requires a master mind, would not only be the best guarantee for Constitutional Monarchy, but would raise it to a height of power, stability, and symmetry, which has never been attained286.”
Now it may be that this reading of the Constitution is a possible one, though indeed it is hard to see how it can be made compatible with the fundamental doctrine287 of ministerial responsibility. William III presided over his Council, and he was a constitutional monarch71; and it seems that Stockmar had in his mind a conception of the Crown which would have given it a place in the Constitution analogous288 to that which it filled at the time of William III. But it is clear that such a theory, which would invest the Crown with more power than it possessed289 even under George III, runs counter to the whole development of English public life since the Revolution; and the fact that it was held by Stockmar, and instilled290 by him into Albert, was of very serious importance. For there was good reason to believe not only that these doctrines291 were held by Albert in theory, but that he was making a deliberate and sustained attempt to give them practical validity. The history of the struggle between the Crown and Palmerston provided startling evidence that this was the case. That struggle reached its culmination when, in Stockmar’s memorandum of 1850, the Queen asserted her “constitutional right” to dismiss the Foreign Secretary if he altered a despatch which had received her sanction. The memorandum was, in fact, a plain declaration that the Crown intended to act independently of the Prime Minister. Lord John Russell, anxious at all costs to strengthen himself against Palmerston, accepted the memorandum, and thereby292 implicitly293 allowed the claim of the Crown. More than that; after the dismissal of Palmerston, among the grounds on which Lord John justified294 that dismissal in the House of Commons he gave a prominent place to the memorandum of 1850. It became apparent that the displeasure of the Sovereign might be a reason for the removal of a powerful and popular Minister. It seemed indeed as if, under the guidance of Stockmar and Albert, the “Constitutional Monarchy” might in very truth be rising “to a height of power, stability, and symmetry, which had never been attained.”
But this new development in the position of the Crown, grave as it was in itself, was rendered peculiarly disquieting295 by the unusual circumstances which surrounded it. For the functions of the Crown were now, in effect, being exercised by a person unknown to the Constitution, who wielded296 over the Sovereign an undefined and unbounded influence. The fact that this person was the Sovereign’s husband, while it explained his influence and even made it inevitable297, by no means diminished its strange and momentous import. An ambiguous, prepotent figure had come to disturb the ancient, subtle, and jealously guarded balance of the English Constitution. Such had been the unexpected outcome of the tentative and fainthearted opening of Albert’s political life. He himself made no attempt to minimise either the multiplicity or the significance of the functions he performed. He considered that it was his duty, he told the Duke of Wellington in 1850, to “sink his OWN INDIVIDUAL existence in that of his wife — assume no separate responsibility before the public, but make his position entirely a part of hers — fill up every gap which, as a woman, she would naturally leave in the exercise of her regal functions — continually and anxiously watch every part of the public business, in order to be able to advise and assist her at any moment in any of the multifarious and difficult questions or duties brought before her, sometimes international, sometimes political, or social, or personal. As the natural head of her family, superintendent298 of her household, manager of her private affairs, sole CONFIDENTIAL adviser299 in politics, and only assistant in her communications with the officers of the Government, he is, besides, the husband of the Queen, the tutor of the royal children, the private secretary of the Sovereign, and her permanent minister.” Stockmar’s pupil had assuredly gone far and learnt well. Stockmar’s pupil! — precisely; the public, painfully aware of Albert’s predominance, had grown, too, uneasily conscious that Victoria’s master had a master of his own. Deep in the darkness the Baron loomed300. Another foreigner! Decidedly, there were elements in the situation which went far to justify the popular alarm. A foreign Baron controlled a foreign Prince, and the foreign Prince controlled the Crown of England. And the Crown itself was creeping forward ominously301; and when, from under its shadow, the Baron and the Prince had frowned, a great Minister, beloved of the people, had fallen. Where was all this to end?
Within a few weeks Palmerston withdrew his resignation, and the public frenzy subsided302 as quickly as it had arisen. When Parliament met, the leaders of both the parties in both the Houses made speeches in favour of the Prince, asserting his unimpeachable303 loyalty304 to the country and vindicating his right to advise the Sovereign in all matters of State. Victoria was delighted. “The position of my beloved lord and master,” she told the Baron, “has been defined for once amid all and his merits have been acknowledged on all sides most duly. There was an immense concourse of people assembled when we went to the House of Lords, and the people were very friendly.” Immediately afterwards, the country finally plunged305 into the Crimean War. In the struggle that followed, Albert’s patriotism306 was put beyond a doubt, and the animosities of the past were forgotten. But the war had another consequence, less gratifying to the royal couple: it crowned the ambition of Lord Palmerston. In 1855, the man who five years before had been pronounced by Lord John Russell to be “too old to do much in the future,” became Prime Minister of England, and, with one short interval, remained in that position for ten years.
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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climax
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| n.顶点；高潮；v.(使)达到顶点 | |
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amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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maze
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| n.迷宫，八阵图，混乱，迷惑 | |
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acquitted
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| 宣判…无罪( acquit的过去式和过去分词 )； 使（自己）作出某种表现 | |
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remarkably
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| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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sneered
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| 讥笑，冷笑( sneer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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hostility
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| n.敌对，敌意；抵制［pl.］交战，战争 | |
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antagonism
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| n.对抗，敌对，对立 | |
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precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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pal
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| n.朋友，伙伴，同志；vi.结为友 | |
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aristocrats
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| n.贵族( aristocrat的名词复数 ) | |
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vigour
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| （=vigor）n.智力，体力，精力 | |
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antithesis
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| n.对立；相对 | |
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tact
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| n.机敏，圆滑，得体 | |
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obliterated
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| v.除去( obliterate的过去式和过去分词 )；涂去；擦掉；彻底破坏或毁灭 | |
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accentuated
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| v.重读( accentuate的过去式和过去分词 )；使突出；使恶化；加重音符号于 | |
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adversary
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| adj.敌手，对手 | |
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chancellorship
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| 长官的职位或任期 | |
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exchequer
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| n.财政部；国库 | |
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prudence
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| n.谨慎，精明，节俭 | |
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interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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jaunty
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| adj．愉快的，满足的；adv.心满意足地，洋洋得意地；n.心满意足；洋洋得意 | |
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sardonic
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| adj.嘲笑的，冷笑的，讥讽的 | |
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influential
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| adj.有影响的，有权势的 | |
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supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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supremely
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| adv.无上地，崇高地 | |
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vices
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| 缺陷( vice的名词复数 )； 恶习； 不道德行为； 台钳 | |
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insignificant
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| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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dexterous
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| adj.灵敏的；灵巧的 | |
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steer
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| vt.驾驶，为…操舵；引导；vi.驾驶 | |
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advent
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| n.(重要事件等的)到来，来临 | |
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36
vent
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| n.通风口，排放口；开衩；vt.表达，发泄 | |
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37
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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38
demur
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| v．表示异议，反对 | |
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39
peremptory
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| adj.紧急的，专横的，断然的 | |
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40
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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41
triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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42
intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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43
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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44
hurdles
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| n.障碍( hurdle的名词复数 )；跳栏；（供人或马跳跃的）栏架；跨栏赛 | |
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45
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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46
enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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47
interfering
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| adj. 妨碍的 动词interfere的现在分词 | |
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48
exasperating
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| adj. 激怒的 动词exasperate的现在分词形式 | |
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49
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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50
agitations
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| （液体等的）摇动( agitation的名词复数 )； 鼓动； 激烈争论； （情绪等的）纷乱 | |
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51
sardonically
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| adv.讽刺地，冷嘲地 | |
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52
prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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53
speculations
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| n.投机买卖( speculation的名词复数 )；思考；投机活动；推断 | |
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54
corps
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| n.(通信等兵种的)部队；(同类作的)一组 | |
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55
rumoured
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| adj.谣传的；传说的；风 | |
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56
diplomacy
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| n.外交；外交手腕，交际手腕 | |
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57
privately
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| adv.以私人的身份，悄悄地，私下地 | |
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58
coup
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| n.政变；突然而成功的行动 | |
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59
opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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60
chaste
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| adj.贞洁的；有道德的；善良的；简朴的 | |
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61
incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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62
divulged
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| v.吐露，泄露( divulge的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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63
intrigue
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| vt.激起兴趣，迷住；vi.耍阴谋；n.阴谋，密谋 | |
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64
frustrated
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| adj.挫败的，失意的，泄气的v.使不成功( frustrate的过去式和过去分词 )；挫败；使受挫折；令人沮丧 | |
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65
imbroglio
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| n.纷乱，纠葛，纷扰，一团糟 | |
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66
negotiations
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| 协商( negotiation的名词复数 )； 谈判； 完成（难事）； 通过 | |
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67
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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68
contention
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| n.争论，争辩，论战；论点，主张 | |
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69
vitality
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| n.活力，生命力，效力 | |
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70
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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71
monarch
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| n.帝王，君主，最高统治者 | |
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72
monarchy
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| n.君主，最高统治者；君主政体，君主国 | |
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73
majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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74
humiliation
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| n.羞辱 | |
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75
chateau
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| n.城堡，别墅 | |
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76
despatch
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| n./v.(dispatch)派遣；发送；n.急件；新闻报道 | |
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77
incompetence
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| n.不胜任，不称职 | |
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78
discreet
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| adj.(言行)谨慎的；慎重的；有判断力的 | |
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79
infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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80
pounced
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| v.突然袭击( pounce的过去式和过去分词 )；猛扑；一眼看出；抓住机会（进行抨击） | |
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81
intriguing
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| adj.有趣的；迷人的v.搞阴谋诡计(intrigue的现在分词)；激起…的好奇心 | |
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82
loathed
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| v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的过去式和过去分词 )；极不喜欢 | |
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83
surmounted
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| 战胜( surmount的过去式和过去分词 )； 克服（困难）； 居于…之上； 在…顶上 | |
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84
mortification
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| n.耻辱，屈辱 | |
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85
crafty
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| adj.狡猾的，诡诈的 | |
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86
outraged
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| a.震惊的，义愤填膺的 | |
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87
recipient
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| a.接受的,感受性强的 n.接受者,感受者,容器 | |
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88
discredited
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| 不足信的，不名誉的 | |
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89
withdrawal
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| n.取回，提款；撤退，撤军；收回，撤销 | |
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90
limbo
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| n.地狱的边缘；监狱 | |
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91
suppliant
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| adj.哀恳的；n.恳求者，哀求者 | |
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92
pliant
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| adj.顺从的；可弯曲的 | |
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93
fugitives
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| n.亡命者，逃命者( fugitive的名词复数 ) | |
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94
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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95
enlisted
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|
| adj.应募入伍的v.（使）入伍， （使）参军( enlist的过去式和过去分词 )；获得（帮助或支持） | |
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96
appalled
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|
| v.使惊骇，使充满恐惧( appall的过去式和过去分词)adj.惊骇的；丧胆的 | |
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97
persistently
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| ad.坚持地；固执地 | |
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98
insurgent
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| adj.叛乱的，起事的；n.叛乱分子 | |
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99
disciple
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| n.信徒，门徒，追随者 | |
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100
potentates
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| n.君主，统治者( potentate的名词复数 )；有权势的人 | |
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101
ignominious
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| adj.可鄙的，不光彩的，耻辱的 | |
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102
ignominiously
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|
| adv.耻辱地，屈辱地，丢脸地 | |
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103
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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104
philosophical
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| adj.哲学家的，哲学上的，达观的 | |
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105
radicalism
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| n. 急进主义, 根本的改革主义 | |
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106
gorge
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| n.咽喉，胃，暴食，山峡；v.塞饱，狼吞虎咽地吃 | |
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107
skilful
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| (=skillful)adj.灵巧的，熟练的 | |
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108
hazardous
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| adj.(有)危险的，冒险的；碰运气的 | |
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109
alacrity
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| n.敏捷，轻快，乐意 | |
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110
annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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111
hampered
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| 妨碍，束缚，限制( hamper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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112
systematic
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| adj.有系统的，有计划的，有方法的 | |
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113
disapproved
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| v.不赞成( disapprove的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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114
proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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115
anarchy
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| n.无政府状态；社会秩序混乱，无秩序 | |
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116
faction
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| n.宗派，小集团；派别；派系斗争 | |
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117
ferment
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| vt.使发酵；n./vt.（使）激动，（使）动乱 | |
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118
rampant
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| adj.(植物)蔓生的；狂暴的，无约束的 | |
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119
sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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120
agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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121
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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122
momentous
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| adj.重要的，重大的 | |
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123
dealing
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| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
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124
motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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125
unreasonable
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| adj.不讲道理的，不合情理的，过度的 | |
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126
arrogance
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| n.傲慢，自大 | |
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127
inevitably
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| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
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128
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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129
ratiocination
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| n.推理；推断 | |
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130
premises
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| n.建筑物，房屋 | |
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131
laborious
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| adj.吃力的，努力的，不流畅 | |
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132
memorandum
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| n.备忘录，便笺 | |
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133
confidential
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| adj.秘（机）密的，表示信任的，担任机密工作的 | |
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134
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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135
positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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136
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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137
painstaking
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| adj.苦干的；艰苦的，费力的，刻苦的 | |
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138
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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139
envisage
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| v.想象，设想，展望，正视 | |
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140
habitually
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| ad.习惯地，通常地 | |
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141
vagaries
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| n.奇想( vagary的名词复数 )；异想天开；异常行为；难以预测的情况 | |
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142
tiresome
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| adj.令人疲劳的，令人厌倦的 | |
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143
alteration
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| n.变更，改变；蚀变 | |
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144
wigging
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| n.责备，骂，叱责 | |
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145
remonstrance
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| n抗议，抱怨 | |
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146
remonstrances
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| n.抱怨，抗议( remonstrance的名词复数 ) | |
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147
partisan
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| adj.党派性的；游击队的；n.游击队员；党徒 | |
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148
vehemence
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| n.热切；激烈；愤怒 | |
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149
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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150
gall
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| v.使烦恼，使焦躁，难堪；n.磨难 | |
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151
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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152
assent
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| v.批准，认可；n.批准，认可 | |
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153
assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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154
frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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155
shameful
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| adj.可耻的，不道德的 | |
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156
mediation
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| n.调解 | |
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157
immoral
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| adj.不道德的，淫荡的，荒淫的，有伤风化的 | |
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158
lawful
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| adj.法律许可的，守法的，合法的 | |
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159
meticulous
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| adj.极其仔细的，一丝不苟的 | |
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160
postponement
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| n.推迟 | |
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161
favourably
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| adv. 善意地，赞成地 =favorably | |
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162
acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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163
recurring
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| adj.往复的，再次发生的 | |
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164
pertinacity
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| n.执拗，顽固 | |
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165
harangued
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| v.高谈阔论( harangue的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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166
peculiar
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|
| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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167
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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168
nether
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| adj.下部的，下面的；n.阴间；下层社会 | |
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169
unbearable
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| adj.不能容忍的；忍受不住的 | |
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170
irritation
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| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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171
vehement
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| adj.感情强烈的；热烈的；(人)有强烈感情的 | |
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172
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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173
celestial
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| adj.天体的；天上的 | |
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174
portentous
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| adj.不祥的，可怕的，装腔作势的 | |
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175
reassuring
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| a.使人消除恐惧和疑虑的，使人放心的 | |
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176
secrecy
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| n.秘密，保密，隐蔽 | |
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177
conclave
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| n.秘密会议，红衣主教团 | |
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178
adverse
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| adj.不利的；有害的；敌对的，不友好的 | |
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179
doom
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| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
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180
nonchalance
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| n.冷淡，漠不关心 | |
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181
invective
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| n.痛骂，恶意抨击 | |
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182
declamation
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| n. 雄辩，高调 | |
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183
resounding
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| adj. 响亮的 | |
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184
eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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185
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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186
consummate
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| adj.完美的；v.成婚；使完美 [反]baffle | |
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187
annihilated
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| v.（彻底）消灭( annihilate的过去式和过去分词 )；使无效；废止；彻底击溃 | |
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188
simultaneously
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| adv.同时发生地，同时进行地 | |
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189
conspired
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| 密谋( conspire的过去式和过去分词 )； 搞阴谋； （事件等）巧合； 共同导致 | |
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190
tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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191
baron
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| n.男爵；(商业界等)巨头，大王 | |
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192
sincerity
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| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
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193
perturbed
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| adj.烦燥不安的v.使（某人）烦恼，不安( perturb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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194
briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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195
acquiescing
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| v.默认，默许( acquiesce的现在分词 ) | |
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196
bland
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| adj.淡而无味的，温和的，无刺激性的 | |
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197
profuse
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| adj.很多的，大量的，极其丰富的 | |
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198
protocol
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| n.议定书，草约，会谈记录，外交礼节 | |
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199
interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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200
foresight
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| n.先见之明，深谋远虑 | |
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201
contemplated
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| adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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202
contingencies
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| n.偶然发生的事故，意外事故( contingency的名词复数 )；以备万一 | |
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203
incorrigible
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| adj.难以纠正的，屡教不改的 | |
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204
reprobate
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| n.无赖汉；堕落的人 | |
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205
brewery
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| n.啤酒厂 | |
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206
horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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207
celebrity
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| n.名人，名流；著名，名声，名望 | |
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208
scenting
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| vt.闻到（scent的现在分词形式） | |
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209
ribs
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| n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 )；（船或屋顶等的）肋拱；肋骨状的东西；（织物的）凸条花纹 | |
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210
alley
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| n.小巷，胡同；小径，小路 | |
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211
brandishing
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| v.挥舞( brandish的现在分词 )；炫耀 | |
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212
propriety
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| n.正当行为；正当；适当 | |
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213
previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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214
illiterate
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| adj.文盲的；无知的；n.文盲 | |
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215
censure
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| v./n.责备；非难；责难 | |
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216
compliance
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| n.顺从；服从；附和；屈从 | |
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217
withdrawn
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| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
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218
patriot
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| n.爱国者，爱国主义者 | |
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219
radicals
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| n.激进分子( radical的名词复数 )；根基；基本原理；[数学]根数 | |
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220
tyrants
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| 专制统治者( tyrant的名词复数 )； 暴君似的人； （古希腊的）僭主； 严酷的事物 | |
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221
insouciance
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| n.漠不关心 | |
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222
bide
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| v.忍耐；等候；住 | |
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223
culmination
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| n.顶点；最高潮 | |
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224
ecstasies
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| 狂喜( ecstasy的名词复数 )； 出神； 入迷； 迷幻药 | |
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225
supremacy
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| n.至上；至高权力 | |
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226
wrestled
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| v.（与某人）搏斗( wrestle的过去式和过去分词 )；扭成一团；扭打；（与…）摔跤 | |
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227
redoubtable
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| adj.可敬的；可怕的 | |
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228
overthrown
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| adj. 打翻的，推倒的，倾覆的 动词overthrow的过去分词 | |
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229
coalition
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| n.结合体，同盟，结合，联合 | |
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230
followers
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| 追随者( follower的名词复数 )； 用户； 契据的附面； 从动件 | |
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231
premier
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| adj.首要的；n.总理，首相 | |
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232
complacent
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| adj.自满的；自鸣得意的 | |
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233
courteous
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| adj.彬彬有礼的，客气的 | |
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234
catastrophe
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| n.大灾难，大祸 | |
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235
imminent
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| adj.即将发生的，临近的，逼近的 | |
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236
perplexed
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| adj.不知所措的 | |
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237
ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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238
complexity
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| n.复杂(性)，复杂的事物 | |
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239
reassured
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| adj.使消除疑虑的；使放心的v.再保证，恢复信心( reassure的过去式和过去分词) | |
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240
exhaustion
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| n.耗尽枯竭，疲惫，筋疲力尽，竭尽，详尽无遗的论述 | |
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241
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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242
smelt
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| v.熔解，熔炼；n.银白鱼，胡瓜鱼 | |
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243
frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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244
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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245
traitor
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| n.叛徒，卖国贼 | |
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246
obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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247
accusation
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| n.控告，指责，谴责 | |
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248
accusations
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| n.指责( accusation的名词复数 )；指控；控告；（被告发、控告的）罪名 | |
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249
hawked
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| 通过叫卖主动兜售（hawk的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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250
doggerel
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| n.拙劣的诗，打油诗 | |
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251
rumours
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| n.传闻( rumour的名词复数 )；风闻；谣言；谣传 | |
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252
belly
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| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
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253
groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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254
raving
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| adj.说胡话的；疯狂的，怒吼的；非常漂亮的；令人醉心[痴心]的v.胡言乱语(rave的现在分词)n.胡话；疯话adv.胡言乱语地；疯狂地 | |
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255
grumble
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| vi.抱怨；咕哝；n.抱怨，牢骚；咕哝，隆隆声 | |
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256
incarceration
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| n.监禁，禁闭；钳闭 | |
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257
miscreants
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| n.恶棍，歹徒( miscreant的名词复数 ) | |
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258
isle
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| n.小岛，岛 | |
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259
devoid
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| adj.全无的，缺乏的 | |
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260
backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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261
incompatible
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| adj.不相容的，不协调的，不相配的 | |
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262
scrupulosity
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| n.顾虑 | |
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263
labyrinth
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| n.迷宫；难解的事物；迷路 | |
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264
bellicose
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| adj.好战的；好争吵的 | |
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265
underlying
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| adj.在下面的，含蓄的，潜在的 | |
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266
justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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267
undesirable
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| adj.不受欢迎的，不良的，不合意的，讨厌的；n.不受欢迎的人，不良分子 | |
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268
proclivities
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| n.倾向，癖性( proclivity的名词复数 ) | |
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269
lamented
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| adj.被哀悼的，令人遗憾的v.（为…）哀悼，痛哭，悲伤( lament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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270
prominence
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| n.突出；显著；杰出；重要 | |
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271
ascertainable
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| adj.可确定（探知），可发现的 | |
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272
detailed
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| adj.详细的，详尽的，极注意细节的，完全的 | |
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273
prerogative
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| n.特权 | |
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274
prerogatives
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| n.权利( prerogative的名词复数 )；特权；大主教法庭；总督委任组成的法庭 | |
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275
undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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276
fraught
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| adj.充满…的，伴有(危险等)的；忧虑的 | |
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277
ministry
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| n.(政府的)部；牧师 | |
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278
Mandarin
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| n.中国官话，国语，满清官吏；adj.华丽辞藻的 | |
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279
vindicating
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| v.澄清（某人/某事物）受到的责难或嫌疑( vindicate的现在分词 )；表明或证明（所争辩的事物）属实、正当、有效等；维护 | |
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280
legitimate
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| adj.合法的，合理的，合乎逻辑的；v.使合法 | |
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281
straightforward
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| adj.正直的，坦率的；易懂的，简单的 | |
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282
initiation
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| n.开始 | |
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283
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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284
patriotic
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| adj.爱国的，有爱国心的 | |
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285
judicious
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| adj.明智的，明断的，能作出明智决定的 | |
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286
attained
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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287
doctrine
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| n.教义；主义；学说 | |
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288
analogous
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| adj.相似的；类似的 | |
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289
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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290
instilled
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| v.逐渐使某人获得（某种可取的品质），逐步灌输( instill的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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291
doctrines
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| n.教条( doctrine的名词复数 )；教义；学说；（政府政策的）正式声明 | |
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292
thereby
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| adv.因此，从而 | |
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293
implicitly
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| adv. 含蓄地, 暗中地, 毫不保留地 | |
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294
justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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295
disquieting
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| adj.令人不安的，令人不平静的v.使不安，使忧虑，使烦恼( disquiet的现在分词 ) | |
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296
wielded
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| 手持着使用（武器、工具等）( wield的过去式和过去分词 )； 具有； 运用（权力）； 施加（影响） | |
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297
inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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298
superintendent
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| n.监督人，主管，总监；(英国)警务长 | |
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299
adviser
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| n.劝告者，顾问 | |
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300
loomed
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| v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的过去式和过去分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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301
ominously
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| adv.恶兆地，不吉利地；预示地 | |
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302
subsided
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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303
unimpeachable
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| adj.无可指责的；adv.无可怀疑地 | |
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304
loyalty
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| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
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305
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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306
patriotism
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| n.爱国精神，爱国心，爱国主义 | |
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