Memoirs of Sir Wemyss Reid 1842-1885

after the Commune-An

Prince of Wales-Revi

eral of Napoleon III

ational Policy-Bruce's

ria

e great city which has been the theatre of so many tragedies. It shocked everybody to think that the heavy sufferings through which unhappy France had passed, instead of uniting all classes of the people together

hose days as it is now, and to me, of course, as a newcomer, it did not seem to be hackneyed at all. I was too young, I think, fully to realise the indescribable charm of Italy, a charm which is felt more strongly by most of us with each successive visit to that land of dreams and beauty. At Milan I was the victim of a not unusual incident in travel. I found myself stranded at the old H?tel de la Ville for want of money. I had arranged for a remittance to reach

ng that I must first of all see all the sights of the place. "Hoots, man!" he retorted, "ye've seen all the sights, and ye're jist wasting your time and losing your holiday stopping here. I ken weel what it is ye're waiting for. Ye're short of money-that's it, isn't it?" I murmured something to the effect that I was expecting remittances which would, no doubt, reach me almost immediately. "Weel, I'm not going to let a young fellow like you lose your holiday," said my friend, in a very positive manner, "and ye'll just have to make me your banker for what ye want,

attered, and the pavement ripped up for the erection of barricades, were the common sights of the streets; whilst the blackened ruins of the Tuileries, and the other public buildings destroyed by the rebels, remained to attest the desperate character of the civil war that had been waged in the capital. The inhabitants had not yet recovered from the privations of the siege and the ho

e the National Assembly was sitting, the great bulk of the Communist prisoners were confined in the orangery in front of the palace. Loaded cannon commanded this improvised prison, where many hundreds of men and women were herded promiscuously. Standing on the terrace above the orangery, I leant over the balustrade in order to look on the prisoners beneath. I had to withdraw hastily, for from the miserable crowd there came up an unbearable stench, such as might emanate from a c

ep across temporary wooden structures. Before we were allowed to board the steamer at Dieppe, all passports were carefully examined. The police were on the search for escaped Communists, and whilst it was easy enough to get into France, it was much more difficult to get out of the country. Our passports, however, were in order, and we were soon lying down to sleep in the cabin of the steamer in the full belief that we should find ourselves in England in a few hours. I slept soundly, and only awoke when the sun was well up in the heavens. The steamer was at rest, and I thought we were in the harbour of Newhaven; but, to my dismay, when I went on deck I found that we were still moored to the quay at Diep

the Queen and the other members of his family had been suddenly summoned to his bedside; and yet a little later came the tidings that his case was hopeless, and that he was rapidly sinking. December 14th, the day which had proved fatal to his father exactly ten years before, was at hand, and everybody believed that it would see another heavy blow dealt at the Royal Family. It is impossible to describe the emotion produced by the most unexpected news of the Prince's condition. The

cle, and not that in which the national calamity was bewailed, that appeared in the Leeds Mercury next morning. The only other daily newspaper that had a leading article on the Prince's illness was the Times. In every other newspaper office the conviction that he was at the very point of death was so strong that no preparation had been made for his

ng to begin a crusade against the monarchy, and a section of the extreme Radicals really seemed to believe that the glorious Throne of England was about to be overthrown. But the sharp touch of personal sorrow changed all this, and revealed to the English people their true sentiments towards the Queen and her family. The grief, universally felt when it was believed that we were about to lose the heir to the Crown, and t

last-mentioned year, and of that of 1897, London has never witnessed a more remarkable outburst of loyal enthusiasm. At night the whole town was illuminated, St. Paul's Cathedral being lighted up after the fashion of St. Peter's at Rome on Easter Day. The crowds which filled the streets were enormous, and as the London police had not then acquired the art of marshalling vast multitudes, there was terrible crushing, and several lives were lost. Three persons were suffocated at Temple Bar, which was already marked for

every side I heard men called by names that for twenty years had been part of the history of Europe. The poor Emperor lying in his coffin, guarded by men who but recently had been the great officers of an Imperial household, was a pathetic object. I noticed that his hair had turned grey; and the shortness of stature that he had been so anxious to conceal when living was now plainly apparent. His funeral, which took place on the following day, fittingly symbolised the fall of the Second Empire. Preceding the hearse walked a body of French workmen in blue blouses, the foremost of whom

den House, I witnessed an unexpected and dramatic scene. The mourners had come back, as they went, in absolute silence. From highest to lowest, all seemed to be suffering from the deepest depression. The young Prince was the first to step within the door of the house. As he did so, he turned and bowed to the great comp

ed from a pavilion erected above the wall of Camden Place the passage of the funeral party from the house to the place of burial. It was strange to think that this display of heartfelt sorrow, which was shared alike by the highest and the lowest, had been drawn forth by the death of the last representative of the Napoleonic Empire. But one could not forget the opening words of the young Prince's will, in which he declared that he died with a heart full of gratitude to the Queen of England and her family. If that could have been the end of the Napoleonic legend it would have been a fitti

seems even greater now than it did at the moment when the Royal assent was given in 1870 to the Education Bill. At that time, indeed, Forster met with criticism and abuse, rather than admiration and gratitude, for his great achievement. As older persons will remember, he excited the bitter hostility of the Dissenters and a section of the Radicals because of his refusal to make a hopeless crusade against the Church schools the basis of his educational policy. Even if he had believed such a step to be just, he would have committed

t the Church was ready to open upon any State system of education, was denounced as cowardice and lukewarmness; and as a consequence of the greatest triumph of his career-a triumph hardly excelled by any other Minister of our time-he became the object of the undying suspicion and hatred of a large number of the members of his own party. To the end of my da

rcely better than open and undiluted Toryism. Here I must pause to interject one word of grateful acknowledgment of the generous manner in which the proprietors of the Mercury stood by me in those stormy days, and encouraged me to give free expression to the independent opinions that I had formed. It was a time of trial for Liberalism in general, and it was also a time of trial for the young editor who, in supporting what he believed to be the truth, had thus to run counter to the convictions of a ver

avour of the measure known as the Permissive Bill. I have never been able to understand why the promoters of the Permissive Bill should have made a fetich of that very dubious measure. Yet for a whole generation it has been their shibboleth, and, no matter what might be the aims or the virtues of the man who refused to pronounce it, the supporte

he friends of the Tory party and the publicans, that the Government scheme received its death-blow. The fanatical opposition of extreme politicians had not proved fatal to Mr. Forster's Education Bill, and as a consequence we have had for thirty years a great national system of education at work in England, producing results of immeasurable value. But the fanatics did kill Mr. Bruce's Licensing Bill, and the thirty years that have followed have in consequence seen no amelioration of the greatest of our social evils. The Leeds Mercury gave an uncompromising support to the Government proposals with regard to the licensing system, and I thus roused against mys

more what I needed-solace and sympathy under my own roof. Here perhaps, as I have touched upon private affairs, is the right place to speak about my children. The eldest, John Alexander, was born in London, and is the only child of my first marriage. The other two, my daughter El