action round the centre of unity, the source of jurisdiction, of light, and of vigor."

This was presuming too far upon English toleration and the progress of religious liberty. Public sentiment felt itself wounded. The more moderate considered the pope's act and Cardinal Wiseman's commentary as ill-judged and futile. The more ardent Protestants, both in the church of England and among dissenters, were much excited at what was called the Papal aggression. Lord John Russell, carried away by the general excitement, wrote, in reply to the Bishop of Durham, a letter which was to give free rein to the anti-Romanist passions of the country. The prime minister condemned the recent movement as "a pretension of supremacy over the realm of England, and a claim to sole and undivided sway, which is inconsistent with the queen's supremacy, with the rights of our bishops and clergy, and with the spiritual independence of the nation, as asserted even in the Roman Catholic times." He attacked at the same time those Romanizing tendencies which had been for some years manifested in the Anglican church itself, the partisans of which were grouped around the University of Oxford and Drs. Pusey and Newman. "Clergymen of our church," he said, "have been leading their flocks step by step to the verge of the precipice. I have little hope that the propounders and framers of these innovations will desist from their insidious course; but I rely with confidence on the people of England, and I will not bate one jot of heart or hope, so long as the glorious principles and the immortal martyrs of the Reformation shall be held in reverence by the great mass of a nation which looks with contempt on the mummeries of superstition and with scorn at the laborious endeavors which are now making to confine the intellect and enslave the soul."

The war-cry seemed to have been raised from the very foot of

the throne; the cry "No Popery!" answered it back from all corners of England. The government found itself committed by the rather imprudent manifesto of its chief, as well as by the public excitement. A Bill was presented to the Houses, interdicting all ecclesiastical titles except those recognized by the English law.

The main difficulty in the case arose from the tacit recognition which had been accorded many years before in Ireland to the ecclesiastical titles of the Roman Catholic bishops. The good sense and equity of the most distinguished men in both Houses opposed all violent measures as alike contradictory to the principles of religious liberty, and unworthy of the dignity of a great country governed with liberality, and tranquilly secure in her own strength. The measure presented by the government was amended, revised, discussed with a sharpness that no religious controversy had excited for many years. Lord John Russell appeared by turns as the most zealous advocate of Protestantism and the partisan of the Roman Catholics. When at last the law passed, it remained, and could not but remain, without effect. The Catholic prelates continued to employ their ecclesiastical titles, and were not prosecuted for doing so; and in 1871, the Act was quietly repealed, its provisions never having been enforced. The toleration so slowly and painfully gained by the English people triumphed in practice over the momentary excitement of Protestant passions against an unwise attempt of the Roman court. "I would never have consented to anything which breathed a spirit of intolerance," the queen wrote to her aunt, the Duchess of Gloucester, while the public feeling was most intense. "We must hope and trust this excitement will soon cease, and that the wholesome effect of it upon our own church will be lasting."

The agitation caused by "the papal aggression," and some checks received in the House of Commons by the government

upon incidental questions had for a moment threatened to overthrow the ministry, but it was saved, as in the time of Sir Robert Peel the Whig power had been, by the inability of its opponents to form a Cabinet. The religious excitement abated; and the anxiety of those naturally disposed to uneasiness now busied itself with the subject of the approaching Exposition. "The opponents of the Exhibition," wrote Prince Albert, at this time, "work with might and main to throw all the old women here into a panic and to drive myself crazy. The strangers, they give out, are certain to commence a thorough revolution here, to murder Victoria and myself, and to proclaim the Red Republic in England; the plague is certain to ensue from the confluence of such vast multitudes, and to swallow up those whom the increased price of everything has not already swept away. For all this I am to be responsible, and against all this I have to make efficient provision." The prince, however, persevered, using his influence wisely and prudently, and gaining, one after another, the controverted points. Hyde Park had been designated from the outset as the natural site for the Exposition, but a violent outcry, to which Lord Brougham, with characteristic impetuosity, lent his voice, asserted that the Park would be forever disfigured. "An absolute prostration of the understanding takes place even in the minds of the bravest when the word 'prince' is mentioned in this country," he exclaimed, supporting a petition presented in the House of Lords against the occupation of any part of Hyde Park for this purpose.

The fortunate inspiration of Mr. Paxton, the Duke of Devonshire's head-gardener, in substituting iron and glass for brick and stone, gathered the products of the world's industry in an immense conservatory, open to all the light of day, sheltering under its roof the great trees of the Park, and charming all eyes by its bold and novel elegance. All difficulties were by

degrees surmounted, and the enthusiasm of the original partisans of the project had by degrees gained upon the whole nation. The day of the opening of the Exposition was a day of triumph which Queen Victoria has herself described with touching vivacity. The great event," wrote the queen, "has taken place, a complete and beautiful triumph, a glorious and touching sight, one which I shall ever be proud of, for my beloved Albert and my country. The park presented a wonderful spectacle, crowds streaming through it, carriages and troops passing, quite like the coronation-day, and for me the same anxiety; no, much greater anxiety, on account of my beloved Albert. The day was bright and all bustle and exciteThe Green Park and Hyde Park were one

ment.

densely crowded mass of human beings, in the highest goodhumor, and most enthusiastic.

I never saw Hyde Park look as

it did, as far as the eye could reach. A little rain fell just as we started, but before we came near the Crystal Palace, the sun shone and gleamed upon the gigantic edifice, upon which the flags of all nations were floating. The glimpse of the transept through the iron gates, the waving palms, the flowers, statues, myriads of people filling the galleries and seats around, with the flourish of trumpets as we entered, gave us a sensation which I can never forget, and I felt much moved. The sight as we came to the middle was magical, so vast, so glorious, so touching, one felt, as so many did whom I have since spoken to, filled with devotion, more so than by any service I have ever heard. The tremendous cheers, the joy expressed in every face, the immensity of the building, the mixture of palms, flowers, trees, statues, fountains; the organwith two hundred instruments and six hundred voices, which sounded like nothing- and my beloved husband, the author of this peace festival, which united the industry of all nations of the earth all this was moving indeed, and it was, and is, a day to

live forever.

God bless my dearest Albert! God bless my dearest country, which has shown itself so great to-day! One felt so grateful to the great God, who seemed to pervade all and to bless all!"

The apprehensions that had been aroused by the project of the Exhibition of 1851 proved vain; no danger, natural or moral, was destined to arise for England from the immense throngs that gathered in London and its environs. The hopes conceived of the salutary influence of this great pacific manifestation proved also to be exaggerated. Universal Expositions have developed and multiplied in all countries, but they have not assured the peace of the world, and the era of warlike preparations was destined to recommence for England immediately upon the closing of the Crystal Palace. The Great Exhibition of 1851 left, however, in the minds of all, an impression of novelty and of enthusiasm; its aim was generous and noble, and the material success was complete, even in respect to the financial part of the enterprise. Too much had been hoped as regards the progress of civilization, and these illusions were not slow to be dissipated. The demon of war was not yet conquered.

The remote discords which as yet had not reached England herself, were not, however, without influence upon her interior policy. The death of Sir Robert Peel had freed Lord Palmerston from a rival who was more than his equal, and from a censor whom he dreaded, even while accepting his support. Bold, even to imprudence, in his foreign policy, Lord Palmerston was opposed to all concessions to the democratic spirit at home, and his policy was in all essential points in harmony with that of the Conservatives. But it was difficult for him to resist those influences which came to him from abroad, and the consistency of his conduct suffered much therefrom. The Hungarian revolt against Austria had