remember that Sir R. Peel and his cabinet were, as yet, believers in the sliding-scale; that, while exposing the bad qualities of Lord J. Russell's 88. fixed duty, they had not yet given the slightest intimation that they had anything better to propose; and that their opponents were truly heart-stricken at the spectacle of the misery of the manufacturing districts; while, from long habit, they regarded the Peel administration as purely aristocratic in its temper and principles. The premier's replies were uniformly calm and quiet. He would not be forced to any disclosures before his colleagues and he were prepared with their plans. No one could grieve more deeply and sincerely for the distress of the people; but, the deeper that distress, the more careful should government be to avoid rashness in legislation and in promise. He would not countenance the delusion that it was possible to relieve the popular distress immediately by any parliamentary measure whatever. The only thing that legislation could do was to remove obstruction, to lay the foundation of improvement, and work a gradual amelioration in the condition of society. Those who heard him, and those who read his speeches, under the prejudice of his former Toryism, told the people that, having the powers of government in his hand, he now refused to do the first duty of the government-to employ and feed the people. This is worth noting in evidence of the retribution which Sir R. Peel had to undergo for his ancient opinions or party connections, and of the ignorance in regard to the functions of a representative government which existed, nine years after the passage of the Reform Bill, among a considerable number of the men who had caused that bill to pass.

The minister's difficulties were increased by an unfortunate declaration of the Duke of Wellington's in the House of Lords-that there was no deficiency of corn in the country; that the distress had nothing to do with the food question; that it was owing to want of work and of wages, and other causes; but that he never heard how parliament could do anything in such a case. Probably, no one expected the Duke of Wellington ever to come out as a political economist, or supposed that, at his years, he could be taken in hand as a pupil by Sir R. Peel; but it

reflected some discredit on the government, and confirmed certain despairing statements of opposition members, when so eminent a member of the new government could see no connection between food and work-food and wages; and no evidence that the food question was concerned in the existing intolerable distress.

The chancellor of the exchequer early proposed to provide for the £2,500,000 (nearly) which was required for the public service, by selling stock for the emergency -declaring his dislike of increasing the debt, and his intention of proposing, in the next session, comprehensive and permanent methods of provision for the public service. There was much natural repining at any increase of the debt, and much denunciation of the method, as if the need had been the work of the new government; but the thing was agreed to, because, in fact, nobody saw anything else that could be done. The poor-law commissioners' powers were renewed for six months, that the relief of pauperism might not stop till the subject of the poor-law could be reviewed in parliament. The opposition to this brief and indispensable renewal showed how serious a matter the review of the law would be, and indicated that the question of pauperism would be one of the most pressing 'difficulties' of this, as of every administration. These, and some other matters being temporarily arranged, parliament was prorogued by commission on the 7th of October. The speech did not, this time, express any opinions on the corn-laws, but declared that the attention of parliament would have to be given, as soon as possible, to the means of equalising the national income and expenditure, and of providing against the recurrence of the terrible distress which had for long prevailed in the manufacturing districts-a distress for which her majesty expressed the deepest concern.

The prorogation was to the 11th of November. Meantime, the speech was a riddle for the politicians and the sufferers of the country to ponder; and the ministers had enough to do in considering and settling their plans for the retrieval of our affairs in the far east, and about our own doors. The news which arrived from the one and the other region was enough to try the courage of a Wellington, and exhaust the resources of a Peel.

CHAPTER III.

Policy of China-State of China-The Opium Question-British Superintendents-Lord Napier-Political Relations in AbeyanceOpium Traffic Prohibited-Negligence at Home-Crisis-WarChusan taken-Negotiation-Warfare-Captain Elliot superseded -Sir Henry Pottinger-Capture of Ningpo-Treaty of PeaceGovernor-general sent to China-Opium Compensation—Sir Henry Pottinger's Testimony.

The

FOR more than a century past-ever since our relations with India became a matter of popular interest-it has been a subject of speculation or observation why there was so little war in the heart of Asia, among those steppes which, according to all analogy, would be supposed likely to be the scene of constant or ever-renewed warfare. While, in the centre of every other great continent, there are interminable feuds, apparently necessitated by geographical conditions, the interior of Asia, where the same geographical conditions exist, has, for above a century, been as quiet as if it had been a maritime territory. great table-lands are there, rising shelf above shelf, till it dizzies the imagination to mount the vast stair, from the steaming plains of the Ganges and the Camboja up from height to height of the Himalayas and the Snowy Mountains, finding at the top but little descent on the other side; but again, range above range of table-land, still rising till that deep interior is reached which no stranger may penetrate, except some wandering Russian trader, or adventurous pilgrim, who once in a century or two may get in, if he cannot get across. The ordinary and necessary population of such lands is there the Tibetian and Mongolian; apparently so apt, and once so ready, for war; yet, as we know from the facts of surrounding countries, no warfare has been carried on in those wild regions for above a century.

The reason is that a policy of peace has been the deliberate choice of the empire of China. There is no chance

in the matter; if there were, the chances for war would be overwhelming. It is an affair of deliberate choice and fixed principle, in regard to which the whole arrangements of the empire have been made. There is no regular army in China-not because the Chinese are ignorant of armies and war-policy, but because they dread a military sovereignty, and military contests for the throne. The statesmen of China are ready to explain, when they can find foreigners able to understand their language, and willing to know their minds, that they abjure conquest for the same reasons which make them avoid danger of a military despotism; because they desire a settled and industrial mode of life for their people, and to restrain the tribes of the interior by an immutable course of policy, rather than by force of arms. This method is partly suggested, and altogether favoured, by the natural defences of the country. If war can be prevented from springing up in the great interior plains, their bounding mountains may keep the empire pretty safe from foreign invasion. All along the vast Siberian frontier, and that of Independent Tartary, and along the northern spurs of the Himalayas, there is a militia-Manchoo, Mongolian, and Tibetianwhose rough organisation is of a feudal character, and which serves as a sufficient defence of the empire without any trained army. As for the sea-board-till lately, the Chinese had no foe to contend with but pirates; and their rude vessels are able to cope with that enemy. When the possibility of assaults from Europe and America presented itself to them, they declare that they weighed the comparative merits of two plans; and here again deliberately made their choice to abide by their peace-policy. If they set to work to raise a navy, they must be taught, aided, and officered by foreigners; and from that moment, both their objects-civil sovereignty and unbroken peace -would be in peril: the other plan was therefore chosen ; and, on demand, commercial advantages were granted to Europeans and Americans, as far as this could be done without breach of the exclusive policy of the empire, and only as a less evil than war. In both its aims, the Chinese Empire succeeded for a longer period that it is usual to see empires pursue definite aims. There have been no conflicts

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between the throne and the army, or between the throne and the people, or by the throne and army together against the people, such as have, through all time, ravaged empires in certain stages of civilisation. The few divisions of trained soldiery which guard the capital are scattered, as garrisons, among the large towns-are not an army, and could hardly form even the nucleus of one; and where there is no army, there can be no real political relations with any foreign country. The Americans have long understood all this, and have acted upon their knowledge-seeking no political relations with China before the British compelled them to do so, but carrying on a most lucrative trade, and maintaining the most friendly private relations with the Chinese, by means of merchant-vessels, without a hint of naval armaments, and through the agency of supercargoes, without any mention of ambassadors.

The principle of Chinese policy may be judged by nations or individuals-it may be admired, excused, criticised, wondered at, pitied, or laughed at; but it is a principle entitled to the respect due to principles wherever they are found. It may be that the immutable policy of China itself must be proved, like all work of men's brains and hands, subject to mutation under the operation of time. It may be that, to Europeans and Americans, such a policy may appear not only blind and weak, but morally indefensible; but not the less is it a very serious thing to explode a system so ancient, so full of purpose, and so energetically preserved. If the exploding process is begun in ignorance and self-interest, and carried on in ignorance and a spirit of scorn, it is a more than serious—it is a sad and solemn matter. This process took place under the successive Whig administrations, from the formation of the cabinet of Lord Grey to the dissolution of that of Lord Melbourne; but it was not the Whig ministers alone who were responsible in the matter. The melancholy ignorance and scorn which led us into what will ever be called the Opium War were shared by the opposition, and by the great body of the nation. What faults of management there were must be imputed to the ministers of the day and their supporters in this affair among the opposition; but if hereafter the opium-war with China appears in the