The Sun.
London, England, 1855-09-06 00:00:00

LONDON, THURSDAY EVENING SEPTEMBER 6 1855.

SPIRIT OF PUBLIC (TOURivALS.

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THE SPEt CH OF STR JAMES GRAHAM.
( From the Times of this day. )
T.,e emennon sense of mankind has agreed that there
is something inevitably little and narrow-minded in imi-
tations. No imitator, no follower, ever thoroughly un-
de:stood his original, or was anything else than a re-
duced and bad cipy ; and the best pupils have invariably
found it necessary before long to sacrifice their love and
admiration for their master to the higher instincts of in-
dependence and self-respect. Why Sir Robert Peel's
small band of followers have not done this—why they
make such a religion of doing what Peel did, and finding
out what Peel would have done—and why, in this hope-
less pursuit, they put themselves into a bad position
with nineteen-twentieths of their fellow-countrymen—
which Peel certainly would never have done—we cannot
divine. There is something morbid in the whole affair,
and it is not to be explained by any common rules of
action. We are not going to quarrel with the very
small bit of Peelisen that Sir James Graham did the
other day in the neighbourhood of Carlisle, for we hold
that there ought to be a decent reserve, a cloak of charity,
thrown over the transactions of a gentleman with his
borough. The railway of which Sir J. Graham turned
the first sod, if sod it really was, appears to lead from
one sandbank on the south shore of the Solway Frith to
another. Carlisle, which contains under a thousand 101.
householders, has already several communications with
the sea, and the railway to which Sir James has con-
tributed his lofty prestige purposes—at the cost, we
should think, of a quarter of a million—to carry an ex-
isting communication almost as far down the coast as
another existing one. How many coast railways Car-
lisle can require, how many Civita Vecchias this Rome
of the Borders is likely to create with its overflowing
commerce, we cannot pretend to guess ; but we are not
at all surprised to hear that the existing line moat
threatened by the Silloth Railway fought it in committee,
beat it in more than one seseion, and apparently has
only been defeated at last through Sir James's powertul
advocacy of the new line. However, thoneh the line is
peculative to the last decree, a large proportion of Sir
James's humbler constituents have invested their savings
in it, and he seems to c insider the poverty of the share-
helders a set off against the badness of the speculation.
We do not ourselves see the logic of this. In other re-
spects the line does not stand a comparison even with
tne Trent Valley Railway, There, though at a vest'
disproportionate cost, the main line of the London and
Nerd). WeAern was shortened by about ten or twelve
ininutes, and a direct communication gained with some
unimportant towns. The benefit of Sir James's line
will be, that his 525 supporters, who now go by rail to
'hree points of the Solwey Frith, will be able to go to a
fourth, not quite so far dawn as one, or so far up as
Another. We have attempted to calculate the profits of
the new line, but the only result we cat, obtain is, that
if all the other lines are deserted, and Sir James kept the
whole of his Carlisle constituents travelling up and down
the Silloth Railway every day in the year, Sundays and
holidays included, at ordinary fares, it would still be a
losing concern.
But, standing on the pedeetal of this promising enter-
prise, Sir James is reminded of tile Question, " What
would have been the conduct of Sir R. Peel under exist-
ing circumstances, were he now alive ?" and he answers
it by enlarging on Sir Robert's predilection in favour of
commerce, peace, progress, improvement, free trade,
private enterprise, profitable expenditure, and, in a word,
the work of citizens, as opposed to the work of politi-
cians. He rather permits the inference to lurk than to
declare itself, but the inference is, that at this moment
Sir Robert would be taking more care of the merchants'
profits than the supposed honour of his country. He
would be on the side of the citizen, not the politician.
The contrast of these two things runs through Sir James's
'hree speeches. He congratulates England that her
railways are made by citizens, not by politicians for
what he calls political purposes ; be sneaks of all pros-
perity as specially the province and achievement of
citizens, and he evidently implies that, were it left to the
citizens of this country, of course we should not be at
war, that being exclusively the work of politicians. There
is some ingenuity in the contrast here supposed, and in
the Bert of foundation it has in the example of Sir
Robert Peel. Unquestionably that statesman left rail-
ways and everything else as much as possible to the pri-
vate enterprise and the spontaneous progress of the
people. He did his best to find out whet the people
would do, o' what the people would become, and he ex-
pedited the process in a legislative form. But, as the
enlightened British people cannot really love war, cannot
like 4uitless expenditure, cannot like a 6 per cent. in-
come-tax, the wholesale destruction of human life, end-
less fighting, and abortive diplomacy, so it is assumed
that Sir Robert would have found expression fur these
feelings in the preservation of an honourable peace. We
do not pretend to say that we have supplied a complete
t. emu of reasoning, beginning with the Trent Valley
Railway and ending with a universal peace, even in spite
of the Czar and the Sultan, but we do say that some
such train of reasoning is the clue to Sir James's three
harangues.
We shall meet this way of speaking at once by deny-
ing as most untrue, and most dangerous, the supposed
distinction between the citizen and the politician. It is
very true that we may call a merchant a citizen, and a
Minister or a diplomatist a poll ician, and no doubt
they have, by long habit., different ways of thinking.
It is also true that Sir Robert Peel in fighting the battae
of his life against classes, oligarchies, and monop
hes of all sorts, did often speak as if the citizen was the
proper and natural unit of scatty ; the politician
exotic, artificial, and forced, It is true thet at a
time when his thoughts were emiceutrated on one
particular measure, he committed the immense and irre-
perabie error of repudiating, in the matter of railways,
,11 the functions of the State, except the mere task of
discovering which were the most deserving, or the
strongest, or the wealthiest, or the mo-t unscrupulous
competitors. So f r Sir Robert did sink the politician,
Os he thought, for the good of the citizen in a citizen's
affair; but, to do Sir Robert that justice wl,iels Sir
James dues not, he did not suppose the citizen to he
wholly unpolitical. He never acted or spoke as if the
ordinary Em glishman cared only for the belai,ce in his
ledger. On the whole, Sir Robert raised the English-
aepitiitions, and eneirged the sphere of lie sym-
pathies. He euc uraged the citizen to feel that he in-
fluenced the world, and had a mission towards all
nations. He did not degrade our politics, but he en-
nobled commerce. lle was always prepared to recog-
nise the voice of the people, and, so far from being ready
to divert the public rage from national honour to private
gain, and to answer our honest iedignation by pointing
to the blessings of peace, Sir Robert never once said
"Nay" to any popular cry such as that which for many
months anticipated the declaration of war against Rus-
sia. It was only in commercial questions that he
favoured that distinction, unfortunate in any case, as we
think, between the citizen and the politician, which Sir
James now essays to import into the question of national
honour. Once for all, however, on all subjects, we
deny that distinction. The good citizen is the best poli-
tician, and the sound politician is the only true citizen.
On every subject the State expresses, or ought to ex-
press, the common conviction of all its citizen; as far
as they can be ascertained ; and all those citizens ought
to do their best that the State shall truly and fully re-
present them, and give effect to their common wishes.

THE WAR IN ASIA.
(From the Times of this day.)
The intelligence from Erzeroum is declared to be
much less alarming, and fully confirms the opinions we
have expressed as to the Asiatic struggle. According
to a bulletin of the Porte, the Russians advanced on the
4th of August against the intrenchrnents of Kars, and
attaoked a battery. An artillery fight commenced, which
lasted two hours. The Russians are stated to have lost
a number of men, and to have left 100 on the field, be-
sides those they took away. Although the event may
have received the usual official exaggeration, it is plain
that the enemy made a demonstration against Kars
which was attended with no effect, and that, either pur-
posely or from necessity, no general attack has been at-
tempted. Erzerourn is completely relieved. At Kerpi-
Keui, a little village on the road to Kars, a combat is
said to have taken place, probably between the irregular
cavalry of the two armies. After it, though we can
hardly believe in consequence of it, the Russians broke
up from before Erzeroum, and retired on Kars across the
Soghanli range of hills. In six weeks more the cold will
be piercing over all the great Armenian plateau, and the
heavy snows of another winter will begin to lie deep on
the roads which wind through ravines and round the
slopes of mountains in the country which is the scene of
war. How far the fear of Ressian conquest was justi-
fied we now know. The Campaign may be said to be
over. The generals of the Czar must soon recall their
toops to Guniri and Teflis, while their opponents will
he distributed in the frontier towns from Batoum to
Bayazid. The little practical advantage which followed
the Russian victories of last year is well known, and,
although a large additional force has been brought across
the Caucasus at,d along the Caspian, the present cam-
paign is still mere barren in results than the last. The
Turkish cominanders have this year at least been wise
enough to avoid an engagement, and not even fruitless
victories have ministered to the pride of the northern
Emperor
expected a
has
and hi people. A war from which much
was produced
r odueed only empty demonstrations,
and is now concluded in disappointment. Its ex-
penses have, no doubt, been very great : admitting
that provisions may be furnished by the country itself,
yet men, guns, and ammunition have been brought over
a thousand miles of steppe or ravine, or river or stormy
inland sea, to the frontiers of the two Mahomedan em-
pires ; and such a war mu, t have dem aided all the ob•
stinate hope which distinguishes the Muscovite. Opera-1
tions which should give them possession of some part,
however small, of the Ottoman territory, and place them
in a higher position in the event of an attempt at pacifi-
cation, were their object ; yet, though they met only a
disorganised army, all their attempts were vain. They
have been vanquished, not by the strength of their cue-
mie , but by the nature of the war itself ; and the result
shows how easily a p )vverfu! adversary may be foiled in
a rugged and pathless country by an almost powerless
levy, if it be only guided by prudence, and not betrayed
by the venality or rashness of its leaders.
The campaigns in Asia afford proof of the inaptness of
the Russians fur carrying on offensive war when earnestly
oppotigie BLoot of their conciupts, indeed, Boom to 4a,yo

been won, if not by trickery, at least by watching for
the weakness or dissensions (,f their victims. Georgia,
seduced into semi-dependence, was thus incorporated by
an ukase, when every stronghold had been previously
earrisoned by the wary aggressors. A league with
France against England secured the liberty of seizing
Finland ; a league with England against France tore
Bessarabia from the Porte. The Czars may govern with
inimitable craft the provinces they have gained, hut,
though successful, they have not been brilliant conquer-
*ors. Putting aside the defects of the Russsan cotdier
himself, his want of adventurous valour, his dislike of a
campaign beyond what he has learnt to be the limits of
the empire, and his indifference to the schemes of ate-
grandisernent which agitate his master, there are phyeical
obstacles to success in cases where the enterprise is not
aided by foreign assistance or by connivance on the part
of some ruling man in the state that is invaded. In the
Principalities, although the war was carried on in a
country of great agricultural prosperity, where provi-
sions and means of transport abounded, yet such were
the distances to be traversed before the scene of war was
reached that fatigue and want slew thousands, and
made the weakened frames of many more easy victims to
the fevers and cholera which lurked in the marshes of
the Danube. A threat of war from Austria extorted
from the proudest of monarchs an unwilling acquiescence
in conditions before contemptuously rejected. This was
probably not from fear of any great disaster to the vast
army which rested on his impregnable fortresses of War-
saw, Z tmosc, and Modlin, and agaiust which, as the
Austrian Commamier,in-Chief declared, a force of double
its strength could hardly hope to operate with success.
It was rather induced by a conviction that the distant
peninsula on which the allies had landed would require,
if not all his men, at least all the material resources
without which armies most peiish. And his calculation
was right. The carts which new enter Sebastopol are
carts from Poland, and, though the army which occu-
pies the heights above the Tchernaya, and which garri-
sons Sebastopol, seems as yet to have been successfully
fed, we know not how much exhaustion the land has
suffered, nor how long it will be before that exhaustion
denies all forther supply. Those who have been terri-
fied by the vision of Russian conquests rapidly achieved,
who trembled for Con-t,ntinople as they now tremble
for Anatolia and its cities, fall into the error of judging
warfare in a half-savage lad by the conquests of a
mighty genius in the long settled and wealthy countries
of Western Europe. Tee highlands of the Asiatic fron-
tier, the desert and arid plains which succeed' them, are
not to he swept over as the armies of France marched
from the Rhine to the Danube. Great wealth, great
genius, vast resources, a long period of time, and, above
all, the inattention of the world, are necessary for
even the conquests winch Russia may be believed to
have really meditated, much more for those popularly
attributed to her.

But natural difficulties form only the first obstacles
to such successes as the Russians are supposed to have
anticipated. There are large European armies in the
east, and, though they seem difficult to move, a cautious
general would, no doubt, have forebodings on the sub-
j,,,et of an advance from Batoum, which would compel a
retre•t and the relinquishment of all that many months
had gained. Nor are moral causes wanting which ren-
der the hope of permanent conquest, onteven temporary
occupation, one hardly to be cherished by the Czar.
Whatever the state of the Ottoman dominions, whaievt.r
the character of the Turk himself, it cannot he doubted
that the Asatic empire has in these latter days been
united and centralised. In the remembrance of men
not old the Sultan was little m ire than the suzerain of
a band of half-independent Pashas, who always disre-
garded their master's authority when they were strong
enough to withstand it. It was through such magnates
as these, and through the proud and headstrong chiefs
of the soil, that Russian influence worked. But Mahmoud
destroyed the feudal proprietors, and a rebellious gover-
nor is a being of the past. Where is the Pasha of
Erzernum, wielding almost a monarch's authority, who
could sell the Sultan's c Anse ? Where is the Georgian
dynasty which reigned in Bag,lad ? Even the wild tribes
are quiet. Kurdistan may be safely traversed, except
when some adventurer raises his standard for the sake
of plunder. Rocks and deserts, the presence of allies,
the strong authority of the Sovereign, all join with the
weakness of the enemy's armies and the distance of his
supplies to ward off danger from the land which has been
the subject of so wide and groundless a panic.
We cannot but repeat our regret that Omer Pasba
has been taken from the field of his late useful, though
less brilliant labours, to be sent on such a mission as has
been recently announced. We only hope that the
spring will see his return to the Crimea, and his co-ope-
rttion in the movements which will be necessary against
the Russians, even though the town of Sebastopol be
taken. His absence front his army has been immedi-
ately followed by confusion and uncertainty, and those
who know anything of native Turkish Pashas will
dread to see a force in movement under one of them.
We trust that the cessation of alarm will restore to the
allies one of ther most distinguished generals. Their
are dangers and hardships enough in the present war
without a submission to imaginary terrors.

CARRIAGE-WAY THROUGH •ST. JAMES'S-
PARK.
(From the Daily News of this day.)
The slave whose office it wa4 to remind the Roman
General amidst his triumphs that he was still a mortal,
was a wise institution. And indeed, if, as we hear,
there be any plan for the destruction of St. James's-
park in serious c,ntemplation, it seems that even a mob-
compellingmember for Marylebone may, in the satur-
nalia of official success, require to be reminded that,
although he has assumed the purple of Privy Council-
lor, and taken his seat in the Cabinet, lie does not there-
fore become irresponsible or immortal. Sudden elevation

produces strange effects, and without question the rise
of Sir Benjamin Hall—the plausible and the patriotic—
has been singularly rapid. It is scarcely a year since
Lord Palmerston, then Home Secretary, smarting unthr
a defeat inflicted upon him by Sir Benjamin, with a
dexterous malice which anticipated failure in office and
some loss of ppulatitv, thrust the victorious member
into the office of Minister of Public Health, at the very
time when the fearful ravages of the cholera rendere.t
such an office most undesirable. But the sturdy and
ambitious baronet was not dismayed, for he accepted
the office, and applied himself so vigorously to its
duties, that he has lately been rewarded with
a seat in the Cabinet a'id the Chief C immissioner-
ship of the Board of Works. LA died in office. he
inaugurated his reign by directing the band to
play on the Sunday in Kensington Gardens,
and, in his eagerness to enjoy the beaming faces of a
delighted constituency, he repaired in person to the
spot, and even had men posted at the gates in order to
note the numbers of those who came to enjoy the inusi-
cal feast. What Minister could be more thoughtful of
the public wants? Certainly none has shown such bold-
ness in his endeavours to satisfy them.
But suddenly a change came over the spirit of his ad-
ministration. We are assured—and, unless certain
enormous poles placed at ominous distances are capable
of another interpretation, we are inclined to believe the
story—that a scheme is in contemplation for making a
carriage-way through the very centre of St. James's-
park, from Marlborough-house to the Birdcage-walk.
Toe object, we 'are told, of this gothic improvement is
to satisfy the demands of those who live on the other
side, in the neighbourhood of Westminster and Pimlico,
and, at the same time, to avoid the necessity of allowing
all sorts of carriages to use the drives already constructed
roand St. James's-park ; for it is obvious enough that if
these drives were opened to the public no new road
would be required. But these drives, it seems, are sa-
cred. They may be desecrated by plebeian feet, but
none by the horses and carriages ef those who, fur va-
rious reasons, are refused the entree. So that to main-
tain a foolish distinction, as mysterious and as hopelessly
inexplicable as the distinctions observed at some petty
German Courts, the most beautiful portion of St.
James's-park is to be replaced by a turnpike road, and
the Park itself, small as it is, must be cut in half.
If there is one spot more delightful than another, it is
the gardens of St. James's. From the very centre of
the roar of London you pass into the delights of rural
quiet—noble trees, green sward, and shady walks. Here
tile jaded Londoner, freed from the distracting cares of
business, delights to recruit his exhausted energies, or,
abandoning himself to reverie, to lose and neglect the
creeping hours of time. To deprive the rich man of
gate and
top etiody children,
such a retreat is cruel enough ; but surely there is no
one who of an evening has watched the toil-worn arti-
ps annsr,i
pouring
with n theirhard-workedthroughv e
ewive
ry
an hour
of noisy pastime, who would willingly curtail, by a
single toot, the space dedicated to their recreation.
The delightful gardens now threatened with destruc-
tion are about an eighth of the size of of the spacious
Hyde-park. Surely the loud-tongued pertinacity with
which the killers in carriages and the denizens of Rot-
ten-row urged the Government to adhere to their pro-
mise, and to insist on the removal of the Crystal Palace,
has not yet been forgotten. The luxurious patriots of
that day acted, or professed to act, from no selfish mo-
tives. They rose on behalf of the lungs of London.
The strip of land between Rotten•row and the great
theroughfare to Kensington was, they cried, the first
step towar_!fi the building up of the parks ; nor should
any exception be made now on behalf of a Crystal Pa-
lace, one of the wonders cf the world. The struggle
was successful, and we rejoice that it was so. But
what amount of damage to the public would the Crystal
Palace have it flicted had it remained where it rose, com-
pared with the annoyance and disfigurement of a turn-
pike road through the centre of the gardens of St.
James's ?
it has, indeed, been boldly insinuated that the Court
is the author of this design, net unworthy of the Van-
dais. The thing is incredible. These very gardens 01
St. James's were, if we remember rightly, arranged as
e now see them by his late Majesty King George the
Fourth. They are one of the few, the very few, things
which serve, however slightly, to relieve the sad selfish-
ness and profligacy' which marked the career of that
miserable man. It is not possible that that Royal lady,
whose character is distinguished by nothing so much
as an indifference to herself and a thoughtful re-
gard for her subjects, will show herself lees alive than
any of her Royal predecessors—than Charles 11. and
George IV. —to the time-hallowed enjoyments of
her poorest subjects. Nor, indeed, will we permit
.otlr6eiTea to. 491*. eats IP. (409* 46 40 ilgolued a

the monstrous design, she will instantly interfere to stop
its further progress. No. To suppose the Court evert
cognisant of such a design is a groundless calumny. But
whilst we acquit the Court, what shall we say of the right
hon. the member for Marylebone ? for he is the resp tn.
Bible Minister. Is it, as we have conjectured, that his
sudden rise has confused his wits ? Is it that the habit
of thought engendered by a too zealous contemplation
of sewers and main-pipes has obliterated from his mind
the distinction between a cesspool and an ornamental
piece of water, a garden and a dung heap ? Or does he
expect, because a step in office and the blessings con-
ferred by a Sunday band will enable him to act as be
pleases—does the right hon. baronet suppose that his
shrewd fellow-citizens will submit to be played out of
St. James's-park, as the Russian garrison, after they
capitulated, were played out of Bomarsund ? Or, act-
ing on the mistaken supposition that a calumnious
rumour is correct, and that the Court is seriously deter-
mined to keep the drive in St. James's-park private, is
it possible that this incorruptible, but withal ambitious
Minister has determined to humour the Court by a com-
promise—a compromise, forsooth, by which not only
the drives round the Park will be kept private, but by
which the Park itself will be utterly destroyed ? Let
not Sir Benjamin suppose that courtiership so indiscreet
as this will advance him one step towards that coronet
which has so long glittered before his restless imagina-
tion.