Governments, like men, begin to die when they begin to live, and every breath they draw shortens the duration of their being. Yet within two years Palmerston overruled Lord Aberdeen, routed Lord John Russell, defied the Court, brought the war to a successful conclusion, and made an honourable peace. But there was one power which he had failed to overmaster or to defeat, and that was The Times, as conducted by John Delane in the prime of his intellectual vigour.

Recognising that the country was prepared to endorse the action of the paper in demanding an inquiry into the whole conduct or misconduct of the war, his views, when at length he became Prime Minister, began to undergo a gradual but perceptible approximation to those of Delane. Personal acquaintance soon ripened into intimacy, and mutual respect into friendship. Palmerston was the first to admit how much he owed, during the last and most creditable decade of his long public career, to the advice and the support of his former critic. Pledged above all things to conduct the war with energy and to neglect no measure likely to contribute to its success, the situation which Palmerston had to face on taking office was no enviable one. On a range of bleak cliffs overlooking the black waters of the Euxine were encamped the remains of what was once the noblest and most gallant army whose deeds ever adorned the page of history.

Sharp misery has worn them to the bone. They have lost all the bravery of war. They are ragged, shoeless, besmeared with mud, infested by vermin, and tortured by scorbutic disease. From September 14 their life has been one long, troubled, miserable dream. Battle and famine, rotting wet and icy cold, increasing labour and diminishing strength, viewing

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day by day their comrades falling beside them, and awaiting the only too certainly approaching period when they shall join their brave companions in the grave.

Such was the appalling picture drawn by The Times correspondent at the beginning of February. Yet amongst those brave remnants of an army there was no shrinking, no holding back, and no despair. Penetrated with an ineffaceable certainty of success, the hope of treading on the ashes of Sebastopol only parted from them with parting life.

Space would not permit of our tracing here the progress of the war during the next few months, or quoting the constant demands made by Delane for the dispatch of those reinforcements which were destined to bring hostilities to a close. The Allies had begun the siege of Sebastopol on October 17, 1854. Not till 316 days later did it fall. On September 11 The Times was able to announce that the fortress had yielded, and that the power of Russia in the waters of the Euxine was at an end, at least for a generation.

One of the last private letters which Delane received from Russell was dated from "Inside Sebastopol," and the first of war correspondents returned to England to find himself famous, and the paper which he had served so well more powerful than at any previous period of its history. In one year from the day of the disembarkation which Delane had witnessed in Kalamita Bay we had stormed the heights of the Alma, sustained the glorious disaster of Balaclava, fought the great fight of Inkerman, opened seven distinct bombardments upon the fortress which so long defied the onslaught of the Allies, swept the Sea of Azov and its seaboard, wasted Kertch and seized

Yenikale, witnessed the battle of the Tchernaya, and had held in check every general and every soldier whom Russia could spare. And, at last, having been purged in the fire of sickness, death, repulse, and disaster, the British standard floated over Sebastopol, and the great object of the war was attained.

CHAPTER VII

THE ASCENDANCY OF PALMERSTON

Reeve's withdrawal from The Times-Delane's visit to AmericaPresidential election in New York-Outbreak of the Indian Mutiny-Growing social influence of Delane-Death of his father-First visit to the Highlands-Life at Glenquoich-Visits to Haddo and Taymouth.

NOT until Sebastopol had fallen did Delane permit himself to take a holiday, but at the end of September 1855 he went to Switzerland and Italy with his father and mother.

J. T. DELANE TO G. W. Dasent

MY DEAR GEORGE,

INTERLAKEN, Monday, October 1, 1855.

I begin by confessing that I have behaved like a "boor"; but really doing nothing is such hard work that, like all idle people, I never have a moment to myself. I only expected to hear from you at Baden, moreover, and made no inquiries at Heidelberg or Schaffhausen, though I shall write for your letters by this post.

I need not recount the incidents of our progress up the Rhine; they were unbroken by a single misadventure or adventure-a constant succession of lovely days, good breakfasts, long dinners, and heavy suppers. The veterans enjoy everything vastly, and though they won't improve their figures by walking as much as I wish, they are in wonderful health and spirits. Of course, everybody said we were too late, but until this day the weather has been perfect, and I never saw things to more advantage. Of course Heidelberg was duly admired-indeed, my father

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wished to go no further, not believing that anything could be better, and my mother to take a house for the rest of her life there. Wiesbaden and Baden were more relished by the juniors (I picked up 16 fl. at the first and 21 at the second), and the little we have seen of Switzerland has been appreciated by all.

I could not follow John Walter's advice as to the Black Forest exactly, for I could find no langkutscher at Baden to undertake his route, but I got one at Freyburg, and went across from there to Schaffhausen, from there to Zurich, and from there to Arth and Righi, which the whole party ascended with wonderful fortitude. All four rode, and this poor child was goose enough to walk-not that the walk is much, but to walk against horses in such a place is laborious indeed. The day was charming, the view at sunrise the best I have seen, and the walk down most delightful. Altogether it was a really good day, and we finished it by a capital supper at Lucerne.

From there I wanted to take John Walter's route by the St. Gothard to this place, but the veterans were too much the victims of their saddles on the Righi trip to sit out another ride, and though I proposed going over the St. Gothard as far as Milan and back by the Simplon, my father preferred coming here for his letters, and so we arrived yesterday, and found your letter of the 25th and a most welcome heap of papers waiting for us. The very first rain we have had was last night, and to-day even the lower mountains are covered with snow, but the weather still promises to be fine, and though I have no plans, I should not be surprised if we took the Simplon as far as the Italian Lakes, instead of remaining on this side the Alps.

Between The E. Mail and Galignani I have not missed more than one or two papers, and have thought them all very good. How lucky you are in murders! As to Russell, he has surpassed himself both in length and excellence. Nothing can be more powerful than his description of the storming and of the Russian hospitals. Certainly we have not come well out of the Redan business, and I am very glad you have set Reeve at Simpson. As to Simpson's dispatch, it was simply imbecile. Niel's strikes me as very good. For one thing I am sorry-that you should have let Reeve praise Lyons and the Black Sea Fleet. I think