[28] The Duke of Wellington died in September, 1852, deeply mourned by the Queen and her husband. The Queen wrote to her uncle, “You will mourn with us over the loss we and the whole nation have experienced in the death of the dear and great Duke of Wellington.... He was the pride, and the good genius, as it were, of this country, the most loyal and devoted subject, and the stanchest supporter the Crown ever had. He was to us a true friend and most valuable adviser.... We shall soon stand sadly alone. Aberdeen is almost the only personal friend of that kind left to us. Melbourne, Peel, Liverpool, now the Duke, all gone!” [29] The only criticism ever made by Palmerston on the Turks was that it was impossible to expect much energy from a people who wore no heels to their shoes! CHAPTER XIV. A NATION OF SHOPKEEPERS. England had hardly drawn breath from the Crimean War when she was face to face with the Indian Mutiny. The first symptoms of the outbreak were observed in February, 1857. By the summer of that year it had attained appalling dimensions; but the gravity of the calamity brought out the tenacity of the English character, and it was gradually realized by the country that no effort and no sacrifice would be too great in order to preserve intact our hold upon India. The Queen realized this at a very early period, and urged upon the Prime Minister the undesirability of reducing our military establishments at a moment when India might require all our strength. No protracted diplomatic labors, as in the case of the Crimean War, were thrown upon the Sovereign by the Indian Mutiny. The Queen’s duty was discharged by keeping a keen look-out upon the development of the Mutiny, by encouraging the despatch of ample military reinforcements for India, by cheering the civil and military commanders there by her constant sympathy and appreciation of their services, and, above all, when the Mutiny was finally suppressed, by casting the weight of her influence and authority in the scale of mercy, and of the policy which gained for Lord Canning, the Governor-General, the nickname, intended in contempt, but remembered now as a true title of honor, of “Clemency Canning.” Her Majesty wrote to Lord Canning fully approving of stern justice being dealt out to all who had been guilty either of mutiny or of complicity in the terrible outrages against women and children, but strongly supporting him in his brave and determined opposition to vindictive fury against the natives at large, in which too many of the English in India were tempted to indulge.