["The Needy Knife-Grinder," which follows, was one of the most notable contributions which appeared in "The Anti-Jacobin." It is scarcely necessary to point out its satire upon the humanitarian sympathies of those Englishmen who had been carried away by the ideas of the French Revolution. The verses—a parody of Stanley's "Sapphics"—were the joint production of George Canning and John Hookham Frere.]
Needy knife-grinder! Whither are you going?Rough is the road; your wheel is out of order;Bleak blows the blast; your hat has got a hole in't,So have your breeches!
Weary knife-grinder! little think the proud onesWho in their coaches roll along the turnpikeRoad, what hard work 'tis crying all day "Knives andScissors to grind O!"
Tell me, knife-grinder, how you came to grind knives?Did some rich man tyrannically use you?Was it some squire? or parson of the parish?Or the attorney?
Was it the squire for killing of his game? OrCovetous parson, for his tithes distraining?Or roguish lawyer, made you lose your littleAll in a lawsuit?
Have you not read the "Rights of Man," by Tom Paine?Drops of compassion tremble on my eyelids,Ready to fall as soon as you have told yourPitiful story.
Story, God bless you, I have none to tell, sir;Only last night a-drinking at the Chequers,This poor old hat and breeches, as you see, wereTorn in a scuffle.
Constables came up for to take me intoCustody; they took me before the justice;Justice Oldmixon put me in the parishStocks for a vagrant.
I should be glad to drink your honor's health inA pot of beer, if you will give me sixpence;But for my part I never love to meddleWith politics, sir.
I give thee sixpence; I will see thee damned first,Wretch! whom no sense of wrongsCan rouse to vengeance!Sordid, unfeeling, reprobate, degraded,Spiritless outcast!
[Kicks the K-g, overturns his wheel, and exit in a transport of republican enthusiasm and universal philanthropy.]
[The following extract from a speech on Parliamentary Reform affords an excellent example of his style of eloquence.]
Other nations, excited by the example of the liberty which this country has long possessed, have attempted to copy our Constitution; and some of them have shot beyond it in the fierceness of their pursuit. I grudge not to other nations that share of liberty which they may acquire; in the name of God, let them enjoy it! But let us warn them that they lose not the object of their desire by the very eagerness with which they attempt to grasp it. Inheritors and conservators of national freedom, let us, while others are seeking it in restlessness and trouble, be a steady and shining light to guide their course; not a wandering meteor to bewilder and mislead them.
Let it not be thought that this is an unfriendly or disheartening counsel to those who are either struggling under the pressure of harsh government, or exulting in the novelty of sudden emancipation. It is addressed much rather to those who, though cradled and educated amidst the sober blessings of the British Constitution, pant for other schemes of liberty than those which that Constitution sanctions, other than are compatible with a just equality of civil rights, or with the necessary restraints of social obligations; of some of whom it may be said, in the language which Dryden puts into the mouth of one of the most extravagant of his heroes, that
"They would be free as nature first made man,Ere the base laws of servitude began,When wild in the woods the noble savage ran."
Noble and swelling sentiments! but such as cannot be reduced into practice. Grand ideas! but which must be qualified and adjusted by a compromise between the aspirings of individuals, and a due concern for the general tranquility; must be subdued and chastened by reason and experience before they can be directed to any useful end! A search after abstract perfection in government may produce in generous minds an enterprise and enthusiasm to be recorded by the historian and to be celebrated by the poet; but such perfection is not an object of reasonable pursuit, because it is not one of possible attainment; and never yet did a passionate struggle after an absolutely unattainable object fail to be productive of misery to an individual, of madness and confusion to a people. As the inhabitants of those burning climates which lie beneath a tropical sun sigh for the coolness of the mountain and the grove, so (all history instructs us) do nations which have basked for a time in the torrid blaze of unmitigated liberty too often call upon the shades of despotism, even of military despotism, to cover them—a protection which blights while it shelters; which dwarfs the intellect and stunts the energies of man, but to which a wearied nation willingly resorts from intolerable heats and from perpetual danger of convulsion.
Our lot is happily cast in the temperate zone of freedom, the clime best suited to the development of the moral qualities of the human race, to the cultivation of their faculties, and to the security as well as the improvement of their virtues; a clime, not exempt, indeed, from variations of the elements, but variations which purify while they agitate the atmosphere that we breathe. Let us be sensible of the advantages which it is our happiness to enjoy. Let us guard with pious gratitude the flame of genuine liberty, that fire from heaven, of which our Constitution is the holy depository; and let us not, for the chance of rendering it more intense and more radiant, impair its purity or hazard its extinction.
[The bill for the charter of the Liverpool and Manchester railway was referred to the Committee of the House of Commons, March 21, 1825. The canal companies had employed able counsel to oppose it. A month was consumed before the company's engineer, Mr. George Stephenson, was called by the Committee. The following account of his first day's examination is from his fascinating biography by Dr. Samuel Smiles.]
On the 25th George Stephenson was called into the witness-box. It was his first appearance before a committee of the House of Commons, and he well knew what he had to expect. He was aware that the whole force of the opposition was to be directed against him; and if they could break down his evidence, the canal monopoly might yet be upheld for a time. Many years afterward, when looking back at his position on this trying occasion, he said: "When I went to Liverpool to plan a line from thence to Manchester, I pledged myself to the directors to attain a speed of ten miles an hour. I said I had no doubt the locomotive might be made to go much faster, but that we had better be moderate at the beginning. The directors said I was quite right; for that if, when they went to Parliament, I talked of going at a greater rate than ten miles an hour, I should put a cross upon the concern. It was not an easy task for me to keep the engine down to ten miles an hour, but it must be done, and I did my best. I had to place myself in that most unpleasant of all positions—the witness-box of a parliamentary committee. I was not long in it before I began to wish for a hole to creep out at! I could not find words to satisfy either the committee or myself. I was subjected to the cross-examination of eight or ten barristers, purposely, as far as possible, to bewilder me. Some member of the committee asked if I was a foreigner, and another hinted that I was mad. But I put up with every rebuff, and went on with my plans, determined not to be put down."
George Stephenson stood before the committee to prove what the public opinion of that day held to be impossible. The self-taught mechanic had to demonstrate the practicability of accomplishing that which the most distinguished engineers of the time regarded as impracticable. Clear though the subject was to himself, and familiar as he was with the powers of the locomotive, it was no easy task for him to bring home his convictions, or even to convey his meaning, to the less informed minds of his hearers. In his strong Northumbrian dialect, he struggled for utterance, in the face of the sneers, interruptions, and ridicule of the opponents of the measure, and even of the committees, some of whom shook their heads and whispered doubts as to his sanity when he energetically avowed that he could make the locomotive go at the rate of twelve miles an hour! It was so grossly in the teeth of all the experience of honorable members, that the man "must certainly be laboring under a delusion!"
And yet his large experience of railways and locomotives, as described by himself to the committee, entitled this "untaught, inarticulate genius," as he has been described, to speak with confidence on the subject. Beginning with his experience as a brakesman at Killingworth in 1803, he went on to state that he was appointed to take the entire charge of the steam engines in 1813, and had superintended the railroads connected with the numerous collieries of the grand allies from that time downward. He had laid down or superintended the railways at Burradon, Mount Moor, Springwell, Bedlington, Helton, and Darlington, besides improving those at Killingworth, South Moor, and Derwent Crook. He had constructed fifty-five steam-engines, of which sixteen were locomotives. Some of these had been sent to France. The engines constructed by him for the working of the Killingworth Railroad, eleven years before, had continued steadily at work ever since, and fulfilled his most sanguine expectations. He was prepared to prove the safety of working high-pressure locomotives on a railroad, and the superiority of this mode of transporting goods over all others. As to speed, he said he had recommended eight miles an hour with twenty tons, and four miles an hour with forty tons; but he was quite confident that much more might be done. Indeed he had no doubt they might go at the rate of twelve miles. As to the charge that locomotives on a railroad would so terrify the horses in the neighborhood that to travel on horseback or to plow the adjoining fields would be rendered highly dangerous, the witness said that horses learned to take no notice of them, though there were horses that would shy at a wheelbarrow. A mail-coach was likely to be more shied at by horses than a locomotive. In the neighborhood of Killingworth, the cattle in the fields went on grazing while the engines passed them, and the farmers made no complaints.
Mr. Alderson, who had carefully studied the subject, and was well skilled in practical science, subjected the witness to a protracted and severe cross-examination as to the speed and power of the locomotive, the stroke of the piston, the slipping of the wheels upon the rails, and various other points of detail. Stephenson insisted that no slipping took place, as attempted to be extorted from him by the counsel. He said, "It is impossible for slipping to take place so long as the adhesive weight of the wheel upon the rail is greater than the weight to be dragged after it." There was a good deal of interruption to the witness's answers by Mr. Alderson, to which Mr. Joy more than once objected. As to accidents, Stephenson knew of none that had occurred with his engines. There had been one, he was told, at the Middleton Colliery, near Leeds, with a Blenkinsop engine. The driver had been in liquor, and put a considerable load on the safety-valve, so that upon going forward the engine blew up and the man was killed. But he added, if proper precautions had been used with that boiler, the accident could not have happened. The following cross-examination occurred in reference to the question of speed:
"Of course," he was asked, "when a body is moving upon a road, the greater the velocity the greater the momentum that is generated?" "Certainly." "What would be the momentum of forty tons moving at the rate of twelve miles an hour?" "It would be very great." "Have you seen a railroad that would stand that?" "Yea." "Where?" "Any railroad that would bear going four miles an hour; I mean to say, that if it would bear the weight at four miles an hour, it would bear it at twelve." "Taking it at four miles an hour, do you mean to say that it would not require a stronger railway to carry the same weight twelve miles an hour?" "I will give an answer to that. I dare say every person has been over ice when skating, or seen persons go over, and they know that it would bear them better at a greater velocity than it would if they went slower; when they go quick, the weight in a measure ceases." "Is not that upon the hypothesis that the railroad is perfect?" "It is; and I mean to make it perfect."
It is not necessary to state that to have passed through his severe ordeal scatheless needed no small amount of courage, intelligence, and ready shrewdness on the part of the witness. Nicholas Wood, who was present on the occasion, has since stated that the point on which Stephenson was hardest pressed was that of speed. "I believe," he says, "that it would have lost the company their bill if he had gone beyond eight or nine miles an hour. If he had stated his intention of going twelve or fifteen miles an hour, not a single person would have believed it to be practicable." Mr. Alderson had, indeed, so pressed the point of "twelve miles an hour," and the promoters were so alarmed lest it should appear in evidence that they contemplated any such extravagant rate of speed, that immediately on Mr. Alderson sitting down, Mr. Joy proceeded to re-examine Stephenson, with the view of removing from the minds of the committee an impression so unfavorable, and as they supposed, so damaging to their case. "With regard," asked Mr. Joy, "to all those hypothetical questions of my learned friend, they have been all put on the supposition of going twelve miles an hour; now that is not the rate at which, I believe, any of the engines of which you have spoken have traveled?" "No," replied Stephenson, "except as an experiment for a short distance." "But what they have gone has been three, five, or six miles an hour?" "Yes." "So that those hypothetical cases of twelve miles an hour do not fall within your general experience?" "They do not."
The committee also seem to have entertained some alarm as to the high rate of speed which had been spoken of, and proceeded to examine the witness farther on the subject. They supposed the case of the engine being upset when going at nine miles an hour, and asked what, in such a case, would become of the cargo astern. To which the witness replied that it would not be upset. One of the members of the committee pressed the witness a little farther. He put the following case: "Suppose, now, one of these engines to be going along a railroad at the rate of nine or ten miles an hour, and that a cow were to stray upon the line and get in the way of the engine; would not that, think you, be a very awkward circumstance?" "Yes," replied the witness, with a twinkle in his eye, "very awkward-for the cow!" The honorable member did not proceed farther with his cross-examination; to use a railway phrase, he was "shunted." Another asked if animals would not be very much frightened by the engine passing at night, especially by the glare of the red-hot chimney? "But how would they know that it wasn't painted?" said the witness.
[About the year 1816 Lord Russell's health being delicate he was rarely in his seat in the House of Commons, and even expressed his determination to withdraw from public life altogether. This "Remonstrance" from the poet Thomas Moore is valuable at least for the view which it gives of the considerations which impelled the scion of the great Whig house to serve his country.]
What! thou, with thy genius, thy youth, and thy name!Thou, born of a Russell, whose instinct to runThe accustom'd career of thy sires is the sameAs the eaglet's to soar with his eyes on the sun;Whose nobility comes to thee, stamp'd with a sealFar, far more ennobling than monarch e'er set;With the blood of thy race offer'd up for the wealOf a nation that swears by that martyrdom yet!Shalt thou be faint-hearted, and turn from the strife,From the mighty arena, where all that is grand,And devoted, and pure, and adorning in lifeIs for high-thoughted spirits like thine to command?Oh no! never dream it; while good men despairBetween tyrants and traitors, and timid men bow,Never think for an instant thy country can spareSuch a light from her dark'ning horizon as thou!With a spirit as meek as the gentlest of thoseWho in life's sunny valley lie shelter'd and warm,Yet bold and heroic as ever yet roseTo the top cliffs of Fortune, and breasted her storm;With an ardour for liberty, fresh as in youthIt first kindles the bard and gives light to his lyre,Yet mellow'd e'en now by that mildness of truth,Which tempers, but chills not, the patriot fire;With an eloquence, not like those rills from a height,Which sparkle and foam, and in vapour are o'er,But a current that works out its way into lightThrough the filt'ring recesses of thought and of lore:Thus gifted, thou never canst sleep in the shade;If the stirring of genius, the music of fame,And the charm of thy cause have not power to persuade,Yet think how to freedom thou'rt pledged by thy name.Like the boughs of that laurel, by Delphi's decree,Set apart for the fame and its service divine,All the branches that spring from the old Russell treeAre by liberty claim'd for the use of her shrine.
[After his unsuccessful contest for a seat in the House of Commons for Huntingdon in 1826, Lord John Russell drafted a measure for the prevention of bribing and sent it to Lord Althorp with a letter which was published in "The Times " and attracted much notice. The following passages are extracted.]
Bribery is clearly forbidden by the law, and it is competent for every British subject to petition the House of Commons, praying them to inquire into any particular instance of that offense which may have occurred under his own observation. The House may, if it thinks fit, refer such a petition to the Committee of Privileges, or to any other committee it may choose to appoint for the purpose.
Bribery in a candidate, however, makes void the election, and a petition complaining of bribery committed, with a view to the last election in a borough, is properly an election petition. But a term of fourteen days is the limited period within which a petition of this nature can be presented, and various onerous duties are imposed upon the petitioner—he must enter into a recognizance to pursue his complaint, and must incur an expense of some hundreds or even some thousands in prosecuting the inquiry.
Still this mode of inquiry is now so established that when upon two or three occasions complaints have been sent to me of bribery in a particular borough, I feared to bring them before the House of Commons lest I should be told that the petition was an election petition which could not otherwise be entertained.
. . .
From this state of things great impunity has been allowed to gross acts of corruption. A gentleman from London goes down to a borough of which he scarcely before knew the existence. The electors do not ask his political opinions; they do not inquire into his private character; they only require to be satisfied of the impurity of his intentions. If he is elected no one, in all probability, contests the validity of his return. His opponents are as guilty as he is and no other person will incur the expense of a petition for the sake of a public benefit. Fifteen days after the meeting of Parliament a handsome reward is distributed to each of the worthy and independent electors.
This is the practice against which the resolutions of the late House of Commons were directed. They pledge the House to inquiry not on a question between two rivals contending for a seat, but on a question affecting the character and purity of Parliament. They allow complaints to be made not only against the sitting member, but against the borough; they enlarge the time within which such complaints may be made, and instead of deterring petitioners by expense, they provide that a specific complaint, if fit to be inquired into, shall be inquired into for the sake of the public at the public cost.
Such is the proposition approved by the late House of Commons, and which I venture to think not unworthy of being countenanced by a Whig reformer. There are many other abuses in our present mode of elections, to which local remedies might, I think, be successfully applied; nor is there any one more fit or more able than yourself to conduct such measures. Undoubtedly many obstacles would be raised to delay our progress, especially on the part of "the presiding genius of the House of Lords." But I am persuaded that reformers in general have never made a sufficient estimate of the support they would receive, or set a sufficient value on the objects they might attain, by a vigorous attack on particular abuses.
[Lord John Russell's share in carrying the Reform Act of 1832 was celebrated by Lord Lyttleton in the following lines.]
In England's worst days, when her rights and her lawsWere spurned by a Prince of the fell Stuart line,A Russell stood forth to assert her lost cause,And perish'd a martyr at liberty's shrine.The smell of that sacrifice mounted to heaven;The cry of that blood rose not thither in vain;The crime of the tyrant was never forgiven;And a blessing was breathed on the race of the slain.Dethroned and degraded, the Stuart took flight,He fled to the land where the Bourbon bore sway,A curse clung to his offspring, a curse and a blight,And in exile and sorrow it wither'd away.But there sprang from the blood of the martyr a raceWhich for virtue and courage unrival'd has shone;Its honors still worn with a patriot grace,Still loved by the people, revered by the throne.And see where in front of the battle againA Russell, sweet liberty's champion, appears;While myriads of freemen compose his bright train,And the blessing still lives through the long lapse of years.
[During the parliamentary session of 1846 when the bill for the repeal of the Corn Law was passing through its parliamentary stages, Mr. Cobden's letters from London to personal friends and to his wife afford frequent glimpses of his interest, his suspense, and his final exultation.]
"London, February 19th. To T. H. Ashworth: Your letter has followed me here. Peel's declaration in the House that he will adopt immediate repeal if it is voted by the Commons, seems to me to remove all difficulty from Villiers's path; he can now propose his old motion without the risk of doing any harm even if he should not succeed. As respects the future course of the league, the less that is said now about it publicly the better. If Peel's measure should become law, then the Council will be compelled to face the question, 'What shall the League do during the three years?' It has struck me that under such circumstances we might absolve the large subscribers from all further calls, put the staff of the League on a peace footing, and merely keep alive a nominal organization to prevent any attempt to undo the good work we have effected. Not that I fear any reaction. On the contrary, I believe the popularity of free-trade principles is only in its infancy, and that it will every year take firmer hold of the head and heart of the community. But there is perhaps something due to our repeated pledges that we will not dissolve until the Corn Laws are entirely abolished. In any case the work will be effectually finished during this year, provided the League preserve its firm and united position; and it is to prevent the slightest appearance of disunion that I would avoid now talking in public about the future course of the League. It is the League, and it only, that frightens the peers. It is the League alone which enables Peel to repeal the law. But for the League the aristocracy would have hunted Peel to a premature grave, or consigned him like Lord Melbourne to a private station at the bare mention of total repeal. We must hold the same rod over the Lords until the measure is safe; after that I agree with you in thinking that it matters little whether the League dies with honors, or lingers out a few years of inglorious existence."
"May 16th. To F. W. Cobden: I last night had the glorious privilege of giving a vote in the majority for the third reading of the bill for the total repeal of the Corn Law. The bill is now out of the House, and will go up to the Lords on Monday. I trust we shall never hear the name of 'Corn' again in the Commons. There was a good deal of cheering and waving of hats when the Speaker had put the question, that this bill do now pass.' Lord Morpeth, Macaulay, and others came and shook hands with me, and congratulated me on the triumph of our cause. I did not speak, simply for the reason that I was afraid that I should give more life to the debate, and afford an excuse for another adjournment; otherwise I could have made a telling and conciliatory appeal. Villiers tried to speak at three o'clock this morning, but I did not think he took the right tone. He was fierce against the protectionists, and only irritated them, and they wouldn't hear him. The reports about the doings in the Lords are still not satisfactory or conclusive. Many people fear still that they will alter the measure with a view to a compromise. But I hope we shall escape any further trouble upon the question…..I feel little doubt that I shall be able to pay a visit to your father at midsummer. At least nothing but the Lords throwing back the bill upon the country could prevent my going into Wales at the time, for I shall confidently expect them to decide one way or another by the 15th of June. I shall certainly vote and speak against the Factory Bill next Friday."
"May 18th. To Mrs. Cobden: We are so beset by contradictory rumors, that I know not what to say about our prospects in the Lords. Our good, conceited friend told me on Wednesday that he knew the peers would not pass the measure, and on Saturday he assured me that they would. And this is a fair specimen of the way in which rumors vary from day to day. This morning Lord Monteagle called on me, and was strongly of the opinion that they would 'move on, and not stand in people's way.' A few weeks will now decide the matter one way or another. I think I told you that I dined at Moffat's last Wednesday. As usual he gave us a first- rate dinner. After leaving Moffat's at eleven o'clock, I went to a squeeze at Mrs. —. It was as usual hardly possible to get inside the drawing-room doors. I only remained a quarter of an hour, and then went home. On Saturday I dined at Lord and Lady John's, and met a select party, whose names I see in to-day's papers…..I am afraid if I associate much with the aristocracy, they will spoil me. I am already half-seduced by the fascinating ease of their parties."
"May 19th. To F. W. Cobden: I received your letters with the enclosures. We are still on the tenter-hooks respecting the conduct of the Lords. There is, however, one cheering point: the majority on the second reading is improving in the stock-books of the whippers-in. It is now expected that there will be forty to fifty majority at the second reading. This will of course give us a better margin for the committee. The government and Lord John (who is very anxious to get the measure through) are doing all they can to insure success. The ministers from Lisbon, Florence, and other continental cities (where they are peers) are coming home to vote in committee. Last night was a propitious beginning in the Lords. The Duke of Richmond was in a passion, and his tone and manner did not look like a winner."
"June 10th. To F. W. Cobden: There is another fit of apprehension about the Corn Bill, owing to the uncertainty of Peel's position. I can't understand his motive for constantly poking his coercive bill in our faces at these critical moments. The Lords will take courage at anything that seems to weaken the government morally. They are like a fellow going to be hanged who looks out for a reprieve, and is always hoping for a lucky escape until the drop falls."
"June 18th. To Mrs. Cobden: The Lords will not read the Corn Bill the third time before Tuesday next, and I shall be detained in town to vote on the Coercion Bill on Thursday, after which I shall leave for Manchester. I send you a 'Spectator' paper, by which you will see that I am a 'likeable' person, I hope you will appreciate this."
"June 23d. To Mrs. Cobden: I have been plagued for several days with sitting to Herbert for the picture of the Council of the League, and it completely upsets my afternoons. Besides my mind has been more than ever upon the worry about that affair which is to come off after the Corn Bill is settled, and about which I hear all sorts of reports. You must therefore excuse me if I could not sit down to write a letter of news…..I thought the Corn Bill would certainly be read the third time on Tuesday (to- morrow), but I now begin to think it will be put off till Thursday. There is literally no end to this suspense. But there are reports of Peel being out of office on Friday next, and the peers may yet ride restive."
"June 26th. To Mrs. Cobden: My Dearest Kate-Hurrah! Hurrah! the Corn Bill is law, and now my work is done. I shall come down to- morrow morning by the six o'clock train in order to be present at a Council meeting at three, and shall hope to be home in time for a late tea."
[Ebenezer Elliott, "The Corn-Law Rhymer," contributed to the agitation such "Songs" as this.]
Child, is thy father dead?Father is gone!Why did they tax his bread?God's will be done!Mother has sold her bed;Better to die than wed!Where shall she lay her head?Home we have none!
Father clammed thrice a week-God's will be done!Long for work did he seek,Work he found none;Tears on his hollow cheekTold what no tongue could speak!Why did his master break?God's will be done!
Doctor said air was best-Food we had none;Father with panting breastGroaned to be gone;Now he is with the blest-Mother says death is best!We have no place of rest-Yes, we have one!
[On the night when the bill for the repeal of the Corn Laws came up for its passage in the House of Commons, the Prime Minister, who had been elected on a protectionist "platform," concluded the debate in a powerful speech, which culminated in these impressive sentences.]
This night is to decide between the policy of continued relaxation of restriction, or the return to restraint and prohibition. This night you will select the motto which is to indicate the commercial policy of England. Shall it be "advance" or "recede"? Which is the fitter motto for this great empire? Survey our position, consider the advantage which God and nature have given us, and the destiny for which we are intended. We stand on the confines of western Europe, the chief connecting link between the Old World and the New. The discoveries of science, the improvement of navigation, have brought us within ten days of St. Petersburg, and will soon bring us within ten days of New York. We have an extent of coast greater in proportion to our population and the area of our land than any other great nation, securing to us maritime strength and superiority. Iron and coal, the sinews of manufacture, give us advantages over every rival in the great competition of industry. Our capital far exceeds that which they can command. In ingenuity, in skill, in energy, we are inferior to none. Our national character, the free institutions under which we live, the liberty of thought and action, an unshackled press, spreading the knowledge of every discovery and of every advance in science- -combine with our natural and physical advantages to place us at the head of those nations which profit by the free interchange of their products. And is this the country to shrink from competition? Is this the country to adopt a retrograde policy? Is this the country which can only flourish in the sickly, artificial atmosphere of prohibition? Is this the country to stand shivering on the brink of exposure to the healthful breezes of competition?
Choose your motto. "Advance" or "recede." Many countries are watching with anxiety the selection you may make. Determine for "advance," and it will be the watchword which will animate and encourage in every state the friends of liberal commercial policy. Sardinia has taken the lead. Naples is relaxing her protective duties and favoring British produce. Prussia is shaken in her adherence to restriction. The government of France will be strengthened; and backed by the intelligence of the reflecting, and by conviction of the real welfare of the great body of the community, will perhaps ultimately prevail over the self-interest of the commercial and manufacturing aristocracy which now predominates in her chambers. Can you doubt that the United States will soon relax her hostile tariff, and that the friends of a freer commercial intercourse—the friends of peace between the two countries—will hail with satisfaction the example of England?
This night, then—if on this night the debate shall close—you will have to decide what are the principles by which your commercial policy is to be regulated. Most earnestly, from a deep conviction, founded not upon the limited experience of three years alone, but upon the experience of the results of every relaxation of restriction and prohibition, I counsel you to set the example of liberality to other countries. Act thus, and it will be in perfect consistency with the course you have hitherto taken. Act thus, and you will provide an additional guarantee for the continued contentment, and happiness, and well-being of the great body of the people. Act thus, and you will have done whatever human sagacity can do for the promotion of commercial prosperity.
You may fail. Your precautions may be unavailing. They may give no certain assurance that mercantile and manufacturing prosperity will continue without interruption. It seems to be incident to great prosperity that there shall be a reverse—that the time of depression shall follow the season of excitement and success. That time of depression must perhaps return; and its return may be coincident with scarcity caused by unfavorable seasons. Gloomy winters, like those of 1841 and 1842, may again set in. Are those winters effaced from your memory? From mine they never can be…..
These sad times may recur. "The years of plenteous-ness may have ended," and "the years of dearth may have come"; and again you may have to offer the unavailing expressions of sympathy, and the urgent exhortations to patient resignation…..
When you are again exhorting a suffering people to fortitude under their privations, when you are telling them, "These are the chastenings of an all-wise and merciful Providence, sent for some inscrutable but just and beneficent purpose, it may be, to humble our pride, or to punish our unfaithfulness, or to impress us with the sense of our own nothingness and dependence on His mercy," when you are thus addressing your suffering fellow-subjects, and encouraging them to bear without repining the dispensations of Providence, may God grant that by your decision of this night you may have laid in store for yourselves the consolation of reflecting that such calamities are, in truth, the dispensations of Providence—that they have not been caused, they have not been aggravated, by laws of man, restricting, in the hour of scarcity, the supply of food!
[In February, 1833, when the failure of Michael Sadler to be returned to Parliament left his "Short Time Bill" without a champion, Lord Ashley (afterwards known as Lord Shaftesbury) was asked to lead the cause. His decision was thus announced to the local "Short Time Committees" in the manufacturing towns.]
Rev. G. S. Bull to Short Time Committees.
London, February 6, 1833.
Dear Sir:—I have to inform you that in furtherance of the object of the delegates' meeting, I have succeeded, under Mr. Sadler's sanction, in prevailing upon Lord Ashley to move his (Mr. Sadler's) bill.
Lord Ashley gave notice yesterday afternoon, at half-past two, of a motion on the 5th of March, for leave "to renew the bill brought in by Mr. Sadler last session, to regulate the labor of children in the mills and factories of the United Kingdom, with such amendments and additions as appear necessary from the evidence given before the select Committee of this House."
This notice, I am very happy to say (for I was present), was received with hearty and unusual cheers from all parts of a House of more than three hundred. No other notice was so cheered; and more than forty, some of them very popular, were given at the same time.
I am informed that Lord Ashley received many unexpected assurances of support immediately after his notice, and has had more since.
Pray call your committee together directly, and read this to them. As to Lord Ashley, he is noble, benevolent, and resolute in mind, as he is manly in person. I have been favored with several interviews, and all of the most satisfactory kind. On one occasion his Lordship said, "I have only zeal and good intentions to bring to this work; I can have no merit in it, that must all belong to Mr. Sadler. It seems no one else will undertake it, so I will; and without cant or hypocrisy, which I hate, I assure you I dare not refuse the request you have so earnestly pressed. I believe it is my duty to God and to the poor, and I trust he will support me. Talk of trouble! What do we come to Parliament for?"
In a letter he writes: "To me it appeared an affair, less of policy than of religion, and I determined, therefore, at all hazards to myself, to do what I could in furtherance of the views of that virtuous and amiable man" (meaning Mr. Sadler).
I have just left his Lordship, and find him more determined than ever. He says, it is your cause; if you support him, he will never flinch.
Yours most faithfully, G. S. BULL.
[To Richard Oastler, a zealous leader of the working-people outside of Parliament, who had pledged him his support, Lord Ashley wrote this characteristic letter.]
Lord Ashley to Mr. Richard Oastler.
February 16, 1833.
Dear Sir:-I am much obliged to you for your kind and energetic letter; much, very much, is owing to your humanity and zeal, and though I cannot reckon deeply on the gratitude of multitudes, yet I will hope that your name will, for years to come, be blessed by those children who have suffered, or would have suffered, the tortures of a factory. It is very cruel upon Mr. Sadler that he is debarred from the joy of putting the crown on his beloved measure; however, his must be the honor, though another may complete it; and for my part, I feel that, if I were to believe that my exertions ought to detract the millionth part from his merits, I should be one of the most unprincipled and contemptible of mankind. Ask the question simply, Who has borne the real evil, who has encountered the real opposition, who roused the sluggish public to sentiments of honor and pity? Why, Mr. Sadler; and I come in (supposing I succeed) to terminate in the twelfth hour his labor of the eleven. I greatly fear my ability to carry on this measure. I wish, most ardently I wish, that some other had been found to undertake the cause; nothing but the apprehension of its being lost induced me to acquiesce in Mr. Bull's request. I entertain such strong opinions on the matter that I did not dare, as a Christian, to let my diffidence, or love of ease, prevail over the demands of morality and religion.
Yours, ASHLEY.
[Lord Shaftesbury's copious diaries were not intended for publication, but late in life he permitted Mr. Hodder to introduce selections from them in his authorized Biography. These extracts from the period when he was fighting the cause of the London chimney-sweeps, reflect the spirit of the great philanthropist, the legislator who at twenty-five proposed "to found a public policy upon the principles of the Bible."]
July 4th. Anxious, very anxious, about my sweeps; the Conservative (?) Peers threaten a fierce opposition, and the Radical Ministers warmly support the bill. Normanby has been manly, open, kind-hearted, and firm. As I said to him in a letter, so say I now, "God help him with the bill, and God bless him for it!" I shall have no ease or pleasure in the recess, should these poor children be despised by the Lords, and tossed to the mercy of their savage purchasers. I find that Evangelical religionists are not those on whom I can rely. The Factory Question, and every question for what is called "humanity," receive as much support from the "men of the world" as from the men who say they will have nothing to do with it!
I do not wonder at the Duke of Wellington—I have never expected from him anything of the "soft and tender" kind. Let people say what they will, he is a hard man. Steven tells me he left the Oxford Petition at Apsley House, thinking that the Duke, as Chancellor, would present it; he received this answer, "Mr. Steven has thought fit to leave some petitions at Apsley House; they will be found with the porter."
July 21st. Much anxiety, hard labor, many hopes, and many fears, all rendered useless by "counting out the House." The object of years within my grasp, and put aside in a moment. A notice to investigate the condition of all the wretched and helpless children in pin-works, needle-works, collieries, etc. The necessary and beneficial consequence of the Factory Question! God knows I had felt for it, and prayed for it; but the day arrived; everything seemed adverse-a morning sitting, a late period of the session, and a wet afternoon; and true enough, at five o'clock there were but thirty-seven members, and these mostly Radicals or Whigs. Shall I have another opportunity? The inquiry, without a statement in Parliament, will be but half the battle, nay, not so much—I must have public knowledge and public opinion working with it. Well, it is God's cause, and I commit it altogether to him. I am, however, sadly disappointed, but how weak and short- sighted is man! This temporary failure may be the harbinger of success.
August 24th. Succeeded in both my suits. I undertook them in a spirit of justice. I constituted myself, no doubt, a defender of the poor, to see that the poor and miserable had their rights; but "I looked, and there was none to help. I wondered that there was none to uphold; therefore God's arm, it brought salvation to me, and his fury, it upheld me." I stood to lose several hundred pounds, but I have not lost a farthing; I have advanced the cause, done individual justice, anticipated many calamities by this forced prevention, and soothed, I hope, many angry, discontented Chartist spirits by showing them that men of rank and property can, and do, care for the rights and feelings of all their brethren. Let no one ever despair of a good cause for want of coadjutors; let him persevere, persevere, persevere, and God will raise him up friends and assistants! I have had, and still have, Jowett and Low; they are matchless.
September 16th. I hear encouraging things, both of my speech in the House of Commons, and of my suit v. Stocks. The justice of the suit is so manifest that even (so to speak) "my enemies are at peace with me." What man ever lost in the long run by seeking God's honor?
September 19th. Steven wrote to me yesterday, and gave me information that he had at last succeeded in negotiating the delivery of the wretched sweep behind my house in London. I had begun to negotiate, but the master stood out for more money than was fair, and we determined to seek the unnatural father of the boy, and tempt him, by the offer of a gratuitous education. We have done so, and have prospered; and the child will this day be conveyed from his soot-hole to the Union School on Norwood Hill, where, under God's blessing and especial, merciful grace, he will be trained in the knowledge, and love, and faith of our common Lord and only Saviour Jesus Christ. I entertain hopes of the boy; he is described as gentle, and of a sweet disposition; we all know he has suffered, and were eager to rescue him from his temporal and spiritual tyrant. May God, in his unbounded goodness and mercy, accept and defend the child, and train him up to his honor and service, now and forever, through the mediation and love of our dear and blessed Lord!
[Mrs Browning's poem belongs to this epoch and agitation.]
Do you hear the children weeping, Oh, my brothers,Ere-the sorrow comes with years?They are leaning their young heads against their mothers,And that cannot stop their tears.The young lambs are bleating in the meadows,The young birds are chirping in the nest,The young fawns are playing with the shadows,The young flowers are blowing towards the west;
But the young, young children, Oh, my brothers,They are weeping bitterly!They are weeping in the play-time of the others,In the country of the free.Do you question the young children in the sorrow,Why their tears are falling so?The old man may weep for his to-morrow,Which is lost in long ago;The old tree is leafless in the forest,The old year is ending in the frost,The old wound, if stricken, is the sorest,The old hope is hardest to be lost!
But the young, young children, Oh, my brothers,Do you ask them why they standWeeping sore before the bosoms of their mothersIn our happy fatherland?They look up with their pale and sunken faces,And their looks are sad to see,For the man's hoary anguish draws and pressesDown the cheeks of infancy;"Your old earth," they say, "is very dreary,""Our young feet," they say, "are very weak;Few paces have we taken, yet are weary-Our grave-rest is very far to seek;Ask the aged why they weep, and not the children,For the outside earth is cold,And we young ones stand without in our bewildering,And the graves are for the old."
"True," say the children, "it may happenThat we die before our time;Little Alice died last year, her grave is shapenLike a snowball in the rime.We looked into the pit prepared to take her;Was no room for any work in the close clay!From the sleep wherein she lieth none will wake her,Crying, 'Get up, little Alice, it is day.'If you listen by that grave in sun and showerWith your ear down, little Alice never cries;Could we see her face, be sure we could not know her,For the smile has time for growing in her eyes!And merry go her moments, lull'd and still'd inThe shroud by the kirk chime.It is good when it happens," say the children,"That we die before our time.
Alas! Alas! the children! They are seekingDeath in life, as best to have;They are binding up their hearts away from breakingWith a cerement from the grave.Go out, children, from the mine and from the city;Sing out, children, as the thrushes do;Pluck your handfuls of the meadow cowslips pretty,Laugh aloud to feel your fingers let them through!But they answer, "Are your cowslips of the meadowsLike our weeds anear the mine?Leave us quiet in the dark of the coal-shadows,From your pleasures fair and fine!For oh," say the children, "we are weary,And we cannot run or leap;If we car'd for any meadows it were merelyTo drop down in them and sleep.
Our knees tremble sorely in the stooping,We fall upon our faces, trying to go;And underneath our heavy eyelids drooping,The reddest flower would look as pale as snow.For all day we drag our burden tiringThrough the coal-dark underground;Or all day we drive the wheels of ironIn the factories round and round.
"For all day the wheels are droning, turning;Their wind comes in our faces,Till our hearts turn, our heads with pulses burning,And the walls turn in their places;Turns the sky in high window blank and reeling,Turns the long light that drops adown the wall,Turn the black flies that crawl along the ceiling,All are turning, all the day, and we with all;And all day the iron wheels are droningAnd sometimes we could pray,'O, ye wheels' (breaking out in mad moaning)'Stop! be silent for to-day!'"
Aye, be silent! Let them hear each other breathingFor a moment mouth to mouth!Let them touch each other's hands in a fresh wreathingOf their tender human youth!Let them feel that this cold metallic motionIs not all the life God fashions or reveals!Let them prove their living souls against the notionThat they live in you, or under you, O wheels!Still, all day the iron wheels go onward,Grinding life down from its mark;And the children's souls which God is calling sunwardSpin on blindly in the dark.
Now, tell the poor young children, Oh, my brothers,To look up to Him and pray;So the blessed One who blesseth all the others,Will bless them another day.They answer, "Who is God that he should hear us,While the rushing of the iron wheels is stirr'd?When we sob aloud the human creatures near usPass by, hearing not, or answer not, a word.And we hear not (for the wheels in their resounding)Strangers speaking at the door;Is it likely God, with angels singing round him,Hears our weeping any more?
"Two words, indeed, of praying we remember,And at midnight's hour of harm,'Our Father,' looking upward in the chamber,We say softly for a charm.We know no other words except 'Our Father,'And we think that, in some pause of the angels' song,God may pluck them with the silence sweet to gather,And hold both within his right hand which is strong.'Our Father!' If he heard us he would surely(For they call him good and mild)Answer, smiling" down the steep world very purely,'Come and rest with me, my child.'"
"But no!" say the children, weeping faster,"He is speechless as a stone;And they tell us, of his image is the masterWho commands us to work on.Go to," say the children, "up in heaven,Dark, wheel-like turning clouds are all we find.Do not mock us; grief has made us unbelieving;We look up for God, but tears have made us blind."Do you hear the children weeping and disproving,Oh, my brothers, what ye preach?For God's possible is taught by his world's loving,And the children doubt of each.
And well may the children weep before you!They are weary ere they run;They have never seen the sunshine, nor the gloryWhich is brighter than the sun.They know the grief of man without its wisdom;They sink in man's despair without its calm;Are slaves, without the liberty in Christendom;Are martyrs, by the pang without the palm;Are worn as if with age, yet unretrievinglyThe harvest of its memories cannot reap-Are orphans of the earthly love and heavenlyLet them weep! Let them weep!They look up with their pale and sunken facesAnd their look is dread to see,For they mind you of their angels in high placesWith eyes turned on Deity."How long," they say, "How long, O cruel nation,Will you stand to move the world, on a child's heart—Stifle down with a mailed heel its palpitation,And tread onward to your throne amid the mark?Our blood splashes upward, O gold-heaper,And your purple shows your path!But the child's sob in the silence curses deeperThan the strong man in his wrath.
[In March, 1849, Lord Palmerston dilated as follows upon the moral greatness and influence of England.]
I say, in contradiction to the honorable gentleman, that this country does stand well with the great majority of the foreign powers; that the character of this country stands high; that the moral influence of England is great—a moral influence that I do not take credit to this government for having created, but which is founded on the good sense and the wise and enlightened conduct of the British nation. Foreign countries have seen that in the midst of the events which have violently convulsed other countries in Europe, and which have shaken to their foundations ancient institutions, this country has held fast to her ancient landmarks, standing firm in her pride of place:
Fell not, but stands unshaken, from within,
Or from without, 'gainst all temptations armed.
That has given confidence to foreign countries in the government and people of this country. When other monarchies were shaken to their very foundations, England stood unhurt, by its evident security giving confidence to other powers. They have seen that the government of England is not like that of other countries, struggling for its existence, and occupied in guarding against daily dangers. They have seen that the British Constitution acts in unison with the spirit of the nation, with whose interests it is charged. They know that its advice is worthy of being listened to; and that advice is valued and respected, and is not spurned with contumely, as the honorable member would wish us to suppose.
[Nothing which Lord Palmerston ever said or did made more for his popularity and reputation than the closing passage of his speech in the Commons in the "Don Pacifico" debate in June, 1850. He had been speaking for five hours, and it was almost morning when he flung out these high-spirited words.]
I believe I have now gone through all the heads of the charges which have been brought against me in this debate. I think I have shown that the foreign policy of the government in all the transactions with respect to which its conduct has been impugned, has throughout been guided by those principles which, according to the resolution of the honorable and learned gentleman, ought to regulate the conduct of the government of England in the management of our foreign affairs. I believe that the principles on which we have acted are those which are held by the great mass of the people of this country. I am convinced these principles are calculated, so far as the influence of England may properly be exercised with respect to the destinies of other countries, to conduce to the maintenance of peace, to the advancement of civilization, to the welfare and happiness of mankind.
I do not complain of the conduct of those who have made these matters the means of attack upon her Majesty's ministers. The government of a great country like this is, undoubtedly, an object of fair and legitimate ambition to men of all shades of opinion. It is a noble thing to be allowed to guide the policy and to influence the destiny of such a country; and if ever it was an object of honorable ambition, more than ever must it be so at the moment at which I am speaking. For while we have seen, as stated by the right honorable baronet, the political earthquake rocking Europe from side to side; while we have seen thrones shaken, shattered, leveled, institutions overthrown and destroyed; while in almost every country of Europe the conflict of civil war has deluged the land with blood, from the Atlantic to the Black Sea, from the Baltic to the Mediterranean, this country has presented a spectacle honorable to the people of England and worthy of the admiration of mankind.
We have shown that liberty is compatible with order; that individual freedom is reconcilable with obedience to the law. We have shown the example of a nation in which every class of society accepts with cheerfulness the lot which Providence has assigned to it, while at the same time every individual of each class is constantly striving to raise himself in the social scale not by injustice and wrong, not by violence and illegality, but by persevering good conduct, and by the steady and energetic exertion of the moral and intellectual faculties with which his Creator has endowed him. To govern such a people as this is indeed an object worthy of the ambition of the noblest man who lives in the land, and therefore I find no fault with those who may think any opportunity a fair one for endeavoring to place themselves in so distinguished and honorable a position; but I contend that we have not in our foreign policy done anything to forfeit the confidence of the country. We may not, perhaps, in this matter or in that, have acted precisely up to the opinions of one person or of another; and hard indeed it is, as we all know by our individual and private experience, to find any number of men agreeing entirely in any matter on which they may not be equally possessed of the details of the facts, circumstances, reasons, and conditions which led to action. But making allowance for those differences of opinion which may fairly and honorably arise among those who concur in general views, I maintain that the principles which can be traced through all our foreign transactions, as the guiding rule and directing spirit of our proceedings, are such as deserve approbation.
I therefore fearlessly challenge the verdict which this House, as representing a political, a commercial, a constitutional country, is to give on the question now brought before it-whether the principles on which the foreign policy of her Majesty's government has been conducted, and the sense of duty which has led us to think ourselves bound to afford protection to our fellow-subjects abroad, are proper and fitting guides for those who are charged with the government of England; and whether, as the Roman in days of old held himself free from indignity when he could say, Civis Romanus sum, so also a British subject, in whatever land he may be, shall feel confident that the watchful eye and the strong arm of England will protect him against injustice and wrong.
[Tennyson's poem was inspired by the recital of one of the most notable features of the Great Mutiny.]
Banner of England, not for a season, O banner of Britain, hastthouFloated in conquering—battle, or flapped to the battle-cry!Never with mightier glory than when we had reared thee on highFlying at top of the roofs in the ghastly siege of Lucknow—Shot thro' the staff or the halyard, but ever we raised theeanew,And ever upon our topmost roof our banner of England blew.
Frail were the works that defended the hold that we held with ourlives-Women and children among us, God help them, our children andwives!Hold it we might, and for fifteen days, or for twenty at most."Never surrender, I charge you, but every man die at his post!"Voice of the dead whom we loved, our Laurence, the best of thebrave:Cold were his brows when we kissed him-we laid him that night inhis grave."Every man die at his post!" and there halted on our houses andhallsDeath from their rifle-bullets, and death from their cannon-balls;Death in our innermost chamber, and death at our slightbarricade;Death while we stood with the musket, and death while we stoopedto the spade;Death to the dying, and wounds to the wounded, for often therefell,Striking the hospital wall, crashing thro' it, their shot andtheir shell;Death—for their spies were among us, their marksmen were told ofour best,So that the brute bullet broke thro' the brain that would thinkfor the rest;Bullets would sing by our foreheads, and bullets would rain atour feet—Fire from ten thousand at once of the rebels who girdled usround—Death at the glimpse of a finger from over the breadth of astreet;Death from the heights of the mosque and the palace, and death inthe ground!Mine? Yes, a mine. Countermine! down, down! and creep thro' thehole!Keep the revolver in hand! you can hear him—the murderous mole!Quiet, ah! quiet—wait till the point of the pick-ax be thro'!Click with the pick coming nearer and nearer again than before—Now let it speak, and you fire, and the dark pioneer is no more;And ever upon our topmost roof our banner of England blew.
Aye, but the foe sprung his mine many times, and it chanced on adaySoon as the blast of that underground thunder-clap echoed away,Dark thro' the smoke and the sulphur, like so many fiends intheir hell,Cannon-shot, musket-shot, volley on volley, and yell upon yell—Fiercely on all the defenses our myriad enemy fell.What have they done? Where is it? Out yonder, guard the Redan!Storm at the water-gate! storm at the Bailey-gate! storm! and itranSurging and swaying all round us, as ocean on every sidePlunges and heaves at a bank that is daily drowned by the tide—So many thousands, that if they be bold enough, who shall escape?Kill or be killed, live or die, they shall know we are soldiersand men!Ready! take aim at their leaders—their masses are gapped withour grape—Backward they reel like the wave, like the wave flinging forwardagain,Flying and foiled at the last by the handful they could notsubdue;And ever upon our topmost roof our banner of England blew.
Handful of men as we were, we were English in heart and in limb,Strong with the strength of the race, to command, to obey, toendure,Each of us fought as if hope for the garrison hung but on him;Still, could we watch at all points? We were every day fewer andfewer.There was a whisper among us, but only a whisper that passed:"Children and wives—if the tigers leap into the fold unawares-Every man die at his post-and the foe may outlive us at last—Better to fall by the hands that they love, than to fall intotheirs."Roar upon roar in a moment, two mines by the enemy sprung,Clove into perilous chasms our walls and our poor palisades,Rifleman, true is your heart, but be sure that your hand be astrue!Sharp is the fire of assault, better aimed are your flankfusillades—Twice do we hurl them to earth from the ladders to which they hadclung,Twice from the ditch where they shelter, we drive them with hand-grenades;And ever upon our topmost roof our banner of England blew.
Then on another wild morning, another wild earthquake out-tore,Clean from our lines of defense ten or twelve good paces or more.Rifleman high on the roof, hidden there from the light of thesun—One has leapt upon the breach crying out, "Follow me, follow me!"Mark him-he falls! then another, and down goes he.Had they been bold enough then, who can tell but the traitors hadwon?Boardings and rafters and doors! an embrasure! make way for thegun!Now double-charge it with grape! it is charged and we fire andthey run.Praise to our Indian brothers, and let the dark face have hisdue!Thanks to the kindly dark faces who fought with us, faithful andfew,Fought with the bravest among us, and drove them, and smote themand slew,That ever upon our topmost roof our banner in India blew.
Men will forget what we suffer, and not what we do; we can fight!But to be soldier all day, and be sentinel all thro' the night—Ever the mine and assault, our sallies, their lying alarms,Bugles and drums in the darkness, and shoutings and soundings toarms;Ever the labor of fifty that had to be done by five;Ever the marvel among us that one should be left alive;Ever the day with its traitorous death from the loopholes around;Ever the night with its coffinless corpse to be laid in theground;Heat like the mouth of a hell, or a deluge of cataract skies,Stench of old offal decaying, and infinite torment of flies,Thoughts of the breezes of May blowing over an English field,Cholera, scurvy, and fever, the wound that would not be healed;Lopping away of the limb by the pitiful, pitiless knife—Torture and trouble in vain-for it never could save us a life.Valor of delicate women who tended the hospital bed;Horror of women in travail among the dying and dead;Grief for our perishing children, and never a moment for grief,Toil and ineffable weariness, faltering hopes of relief;Havelock baffled, or beaten, or butchered for all that we knew—Then day and night, day and night coming down on the stillshatter'd wallsMillions of musket-bullets and thousands of cannon-balls;But ever upon the topmost roof our banner of England blew.
Hark, cannonade, fusillade! Is it true what was told by thescout,Outram and Havelock breaking their way thro' the fell mutineers?Surely the pibroch of Europe is ringing again in our ears!All on a sudden the garrison utter a jubilant shout,Havelock's glorious Highlanders answer with conquering cheers,Sick from the hospital echo them, women and children come out,Blessing the wholesome white faces of Havelock's good fusileers,Kissing the war-hardened hand of the Highlander, wet with theirtears!Dance to the pibroch! Saved! We are saved! Is it you? Is it you?Saved by the valor of Havelock; saved by the blessing of heaven!"Hold it for fifteen days!" We have held it for eighty-seven!And ever aloft on the palace roof the old banner of England blew.