_Landor_.--A sweeper of the Haram. [112] A sweeper of the Haram is

equally in false costume whether assuming the wreath of Musaeus or

wearing the bonnet of a captain of Suliotes. _I_ ought to have been

chosen a leader of the Greeks. I would have led them against the

turbaned Turk to victory, armed not with muskets or swords but with

bows and arrows, and mailed not in steel cuirasses or chain armour

but in cork caps and cork shirts. Nothing is so cool to the head as

cork, and by the use of cork armour the soldier who cannot swim has

all the advantage of him who can. At the head of my swimming archers

I would have astonished the admirers of Leander and Byron in the

Dardanelles, and I would have proved myself a Duck worth two of the

gallant English admiral who tried in vain to force that passage. The

Sultan should have beheld us in Stamboul, and we would have

fluttered his dovecote within the Capi---

[Footnote 112: Vol. i. p. 301.--Vol. ii. p. 222, 223.]

_North_.--I will not tempt you further. Let us proceed to business.

To what am I indebted for the honour of this visit, Mr. Landor?

_Landor_.--I sent you the manuscript of a new Imaginary

Conversation between Porsou and Southey.

_North_.--A sort of abnegation of your former one. For what

purpose did you send it to me?

_Landor_.--For your perusal. Have you read it?

_North_.--I have, and I do not find it altogether new.

_Landor_.--How?

_North_.--I have seen some part of it in print before.

_Landor_.--Where?

_North_.--In a production of your own.

_Landor_.--Impossible!

_North_.--In a rhymed lampoon printed in London in 1836. It is

called "A Satire on Satirists, and Admonition to Detractors." Do you

know such a thing?

_Landor_.--(_Aside_. Unlucky! some good-natured friend has sent

him that suppressed pamphlet.) Yes, Mr. North; a poetical manifesto

of mine with that title was printed but not published.

_North_.--No, only privately distributed among friends. It

contained some reflections on Wordsworth.

_Landor_.--It did.

_North_.--Why did you suppress it?

_Landor_.--Because I was ashamed of it. Byron and others had

anticipated me. I had produced nothing either new or true to damage

Wordsworth.

_North_.--Yet you have now, in this article that you offer me,

reproduced the same stale gibes.

_Landor_.--But I have kept them in salt for six years: they will

now have more flavour. I have added some spice, too.

_North_.--Which you found wrapt up in old leaves of the _Edinburgh

Review_.

_Landor_.--Not the whole of it; a part was given to me by

acquaintances of the poet.

_North_.--Eavesdroppers about Rydal Mount and Trinity Lodge. It was

hardly worth your acceptance.

_Landor_.--Then you refuse my article.

_North_.--It is a rare article, Mr. Landor--a brave caricature of

many persons and things; but, before I consent to frame it in ebony,

we must come to some understanding about other parts of the

suppressed pamphlet. Here it is. I find that in this atrabilarious

effusion you have treated ourselves very scurvily. At page 9 I see,

"Sooner shall Tuscan Vallambrosa lack wood,

Than Britain, Grub street, Billingsgate, and _Blackwood_."

Then there is a note at page 10: "Who can account for the eulogies of

_Blackwood_ on Sotheby's Homer as compared with Pope's and Cowper's?

Eulogy is not reported to be the side he _lies_ upon, in general."

On the same page, and the next, you say of Us, high Churchmen and

high Tories,

"Beneath the battlements of Holyrood

There never squatted a more sordid brood

Than that which now, across the clotted perch,

Crookens the claw and screams for Court and Church."

Then again at page 12,

"Look behind you, look!

There issues from the Treasury, dull and dry as

The leaves in winter, Gifford and Matthias.

Brighter and braver Peter Pindar started,

And ranged around him all the lighter-hearted,

When Peter Pindar sank into decline,

Up from his hole sprang Peter Porcupine"

All which is nothing to Us, but what does it lead to?

"Him W ... son follow'd"--

Why those dots, Mr. Landor?

"Him W ... son follow'd, of congenial quill,

As near the dirt and no less prone to ill.

Walcot, of English heart, had English pen,

Buffoon he might be, but for hire was none;

Nor plumed and mounted in Professor's chair

Offer'd to grin for wages at a fair."

The rest is too foul-mouthed for repetition. You are a man of nasty

ideas, Mr. Landor. You append a note, in which, without any

authority but common rumour, you exhibit the learned Professor as an

important contributor to Blackwood, especially in those graces of

delicate wit so attractive to his subcribers. You declare, too, that

we fight under cover, and only for spite and pay; that honester and

wiser satirists were brave, that--

"Their courteous soldiership, outshining ours,

Mounted the engine and took aim from towers;"

But that

"From putrid ditches we more safely fight,

And push our zig-zag parallels by night."

Again, at page 19--

"The Gentleman's, the Lady's we have seen,

Now blusters forth the Blackguard's Magazine;

And (Heaven from joint-stock companies protect us!)

Dustman and nightman issue their prospectus."

_Landor (who has sate listening, with a broad grin, while Mr. North

was getting rather red in the face_.)--Really, Mr. North,

considering that you have followed the trade of a currier for the

last thirty years, you are remarkably sensitive to any little

experiment on your own skin. Put what has my unpublished satire to

do with our present affair?

_North_.--The answer to that question I will borrow from the

satire itself, as you choose to term your scurrilous lampoon. Our

present affair, then, is to consider whether Walter Savage Landor,

Imaginary Conversation writer, in rushlight emulation of the

wax-candles that illumine our Noctes, shall be raised, as he aspires,

to the dignity of Fellow of the _Blackwood_ Society. In the

note at page 13 of the said lampoon, you state that "Lord Byron

declared that no gentleman could write in _Blackwood_;" and

you ask, "Has this assertion been ever disproved by experiment?" Now,

Mr. Landor, as you have thus adopted and often re-echoed Lord Byron's

opinion, that _no gentleman could write in Blackwood_, and yet wish

to enrol yourself among our writers, what is the inference?

_Landor_. That I confess myself no gentleman, _you_ would infer.

_I_ make no such confession. I would disprove Byron's assertion,

by making the experiment.

_North_. You do us too much honour. Yet reflect, Mr. Landor. After

the character you have given us, would you verily seek to be of our

fraternity? You who have denounced us so grandiloquently--you who

claim credit for lofty and disinterested principles of action?

Recollect that you have represented us as the worthy men who have

turned into ridicule Lamb, Keats, Hazlitt, Coleridge--(diverse

metals curiously graduated!)--all in short, who, recently dead, are

now dividing among them the admiration of their country. Whatever

could lessen their estimation; whatever could injure their fortune;

whatever could make their poverty more bitter; whatever could tend

to cast down their aspirations after fame; whatever had a tendency

to drive them to the grave which now has opened to them, was

incessantly brought into action against them by _us_ zealots for

religion and laws. A more deliberate, a more torturing murder, never

was committed, than the murder of Keats. The chief perpetrator of

his murder knew beforehand that he could not be hanged for it. These

are your words, Mr. Landor.

_Landor_.--I do not deny them.

_North_.--And in regard to the taste of the common public for

Blackwood's Cordials, you have said that, to those who are

habituated to the gin-shop, the dram is sustenance, and they feel

themselves both uncomfortable and empty without the hot excitement.

_Blackwood's_ is really a gin-palace. _Landor_.--All this I have

both said and printed, and the last sentence you have just read from

my satire is preceded by one that you have not read. An exposure of

the impudence and falsehood of _Blackwood's Magazine_ is not likely

to injure its character, _or diminish the number of its subscribers_;

and in this sentence you have the secret of my desire to become a

contributor to _Blackwood_. I want a popular vehicle to convey my

censures to the world, especially on Wordsworth. I do not pretend to

have any love for you and your brotherhood, Mr. North. But I dislike

you less than I do Wordsworth; and I frankly own to you, that the

fame of that man is a perpetual blister to my self-love.

_North_.--Your habitual contemplation of his merits has confused

you into a notion that they are your own, and you think him an

usurper of the laurel crown that is yours by the divine right of

genius. What an unhappy monomania! Still, your application for

redress to us is unaccountable. You should know that we Black

Foresters, lawless as you may suppose us, are Wordsworth's liegemen.

He is our intellectual Chief. We call him the General! We are ever

busy in promoting his fame.

_Landor_.--You are always blowing hot and cold on it, and have

done so for years past. One month you place him among the stars, the

next as low as the daisies.

_North_.--And rightly too; for both are the better for his presence.

_Landor_.--But you alternately worship and insult him, as some

people do their wooden idols.

_North_.--If you must learn the truth, then, he has been to us, in

one sense, nothing better than an unfeeling wooden idol. Some of us

have been provoked by his indifference to our powers of annoyance,

and his ingratitude in not repaying eulogy in kind. We have among

ourselves a gander or two, (no offence, Mr. Landor,) that,

forgetting they are webfooted, pretend to a perch on the tall

bay-tree of Apollo, and, though heavy of wing, are angry with

Wordsworth for not encouraging their awkward flights. They, like you,

accuse him of jealousy, forsooth! That is the reason that they are

now gabbling at his knees, now hissing at his heels. Moreover, our

caprices are not unuseful to our interests. We alternately pique and

soothe readers by them, and so keep our customers. As day is

partitioned between light and darkness, so has the public taste as

to Wordsworth been divided between his reverers and the followers of

the Jeffrey heresy. After a lengthened winter, Wordsworth's glory is

now in the long summer days; all good judgments that lay torpid have

been awakened, and the light prevails against the darkness. But as

bats and owls, the haters of light, are ever most restless in the

season when nights are shortest, so are purblind egotists most

uneasy when their dusky range is contracted by the near approach and

sustained ascendancy of genius. We now put up a screen for the

weak-sighted, now withdraw it from stronger eyes; thus we plague and

please all parties.

_Landor_.--Except Wordsworth, whose eyelids are too tender to

endure his own lustre reflected and doubled on the focus of your

burnished brass. He dreads the fate of Milton, "blasted with excess

of light."

_North_. Thank you, sir; that is an ingenious way of accounting for

Wordsworth's neglect of our luminous pages. Yet it rather sounds

like irony, coming from Mr. Walter Savage Landor to the editor of

"The (Not Gentleman's) Magazine."

_Landor_.--Pshaw! still harping on my Satire.

_North_.--In that Satire you have charged Wordsworth with having

talked of Southey's poetry as not worth five shillings a ream. So

long as you refrained from _publishing_ this invidious imputation,

even those few among Wordsworth's friends who knew that you had

_printed_ it, (Southey himself among the number,) might think it

discreet to leave the calumny unregarded. But I observe that you

have renewed it, in a somewhat aggravated form, in the Article that

you now wish me to publish. You here allege that Wordsworth

represented Southey as an author, _all_ whose poetry was not worth

five shillings. You and I both know that Wordsworth would not deign

to notice such an accusation. Through good and evil report, the

brave man persevered in his ascent to the mountain-top, without ever

even turning round to look upon the rabble that was hooting him from

its base; and he is not likely now to heed such a charge as this.

But his friends may now ask, on what authority it is published? Was

it to you, Mr. Walter Landor, whom Southey (in his strange affection

for the name of Wat) had honoured with so much kindness--to you

whose "matin chirpings" he had so generously encouraged, (as he did

John Jones's "mellower song,")--was it to you that Wordsworth

delivered so injurious a judgment on the works of your patron? If so,

what was your reply? [113]

[Footnote 113:

"I lagg'd; he (Southey) call'd me; urgent to prolong

My matin chirpings into mellower song."--LANDON. ]

_Landor_.--Whether it was expressed to myself or not, is of little

consequence; it has been studiously repeated, and even printed by

others as well as by me.

_North_.--By whom?

_Landor_.--That, too, is of no importance to the fact.

_North_.--I am thoroughly convinced that it is no fact, and that

Wordsworth never uttered any thing like such an opinion in the sense

that you report it. He and Southey have been constant neighbours and

intimate friends for forty years; there has never been the slightest

interruption to their friendship. Every one that knows Wordsworth is

aware of his frank and fearless openness in conversation. He has

been beset for the last half century, not only by genuine admirers,

but by the curious and idle of all ranks and of many nations,

and sometimes by envious and designing listeners, who have

misrepresented and distorted his casual expressions. Instances of

negligent and infelicitous composition are numerous in Southey, as

in most voluminous authors. Suppose some particular passage of this

kind to have been under discussion, and Mr. Wordsworth to have

exclaimed, "I would not give five shillings a ream for such poetry

as that." Southey himself would only smile, (he had probably heard

Wordsworth express himself to the same effect a hundred times); but

some insidious hearer catches at the phrase, and reports it as

Wordsworth's sweeping denunciation of all the poetry that his friend

has ever written, in defiance of all the evidence to the contrary to

be met with, not only in Wordsworth's every-day conversation, but in

his published works. There is no man for whose genius Mr. Wordsworth

has more steadily or consistently testified his admiration than for

Southey's; there is none for whom, and for whose character, he has

evinced more affection and respect. You and I, who have both read

his works, and walked and talked with the Old Man of the Mountain,

know that perfectly well. You have perhaps been under his roof, at

Rydal Mount? I have; and over his dining-room fireplace I observed,

as hundreds of his visitors must have done, five portraits--Chaucer's,

Bacon's, Spenser's, Shakspeare's, and Milton's, in one line. On the

same line is a bust on the right of these, and a portrait on the left;

and there are no other ornaments on that wall of the apartment. That

bust and that portrait are both of Southey, the man whom you pretend

he has so undervalued! By the bye, no one has been more ardent in

praise of Wordsworth than yourself.

_Landor_.--You allude to the first dialogue between Southey and

Porson, in Vol. i. of my _Imaginary Conversations_.

_North_.--Not to that only, though in that dialogue there are

sentiments much at variance with those which you would now give out

as Porson's. For example, remember what Porson there says of the

_Laodamia_.

_Landor_.--The most fervid expression in commendation of it is

printed as Porson's improperly, as the whole context shows. It

should have been Southey's.

_North_.--So, I perceive, you say in this new dialogue; and such a

mode of attempting to turn your back on yourself, to borrow a phrase

from your friend Lord Castlereagh's rhetoric, will be pronounced,

even by those who do not care a bawbee about the debate, as not only

ludicrous, but pitiably shabby. Keep your seat, Mr. Landor, and keep

your temper for once in your life. Let us examine into this

pretended mistake in your former dialogue about _Laodamia_. Well, as

you are up, do me the favour, sir, to mount the ladder, and take

down from yon top shelf the first volume of your _Conversations_. Up

in the corner, on the left hand, next the ceiling. You see I have

given you a high place.

_Landor_.--Here is the book, Mr. North; it is covered with dust

and cobwebs.

_North_.--The fate of classics, Mr. Landor. They are above the

reach of the housemaid, except when she brings the Turk's Head to

bear upon them. Now, let us turn to the list of _errata_ in this

first volume. We are directed to turn to page 52, line 4, and for

_sugar-bakers_, read _sugar-bakers' wives_. I turn to the page,

and find the error corrected by yourself; as are all the press

errors in these volumes, which were presented by you to a friend. I

bought the whole set for an old song at a sale. You see that the

omitted word _wives_ is carefully supplied by yourself, in your own

handwriting, Mr. Landor. On the same page, only five lines below

this correction, is the identical passage that you would now

transfer from Porson to Southey. Why did you not affix Porson's name

to the passage then, when you were so vigilantly perfecting the very

page? Why does no such correction appear even in the printed list of

_errata_? Let us read the passage. "A current of rich and bright

thoughts runs throughout the poem. [114] Pindar himself would not, on that

subject, have braced one into more nerve and freshness, nor

Euripides have inspired into it more tenderness and passion."

[Footnote 114: Vol. i. p. 52.]

_Landor_.--Mr. North, I repeat that that sentence should have been

printed as Southey's, not Porson's.

_North_.--Yet it is quite consistent with a preceding sentence

which you can by no ingenuity of after-thought withdraw from Porson;

for the whole context forbids the possibility of its transition.

What does Porson there testify of the _Laodamia_? That it is

"_a composition such as Sophocles might have exulted to own_!"--and

a part of one of its stanzas "_might have been heard with shouts of

rapture in the Elysium the poet describes_." [115]

[Footnote 115: Vol. i. p. 51. Few persons will think that Mr. Landor's

drift, which is obvious enough, could be favoured if these passages

could be _all_ shuffled over to Mr. Southey. It would be unwise and

inconsistent in Mr. Landor of all men to intimate that Southey's

judgment in poetry was inferior to Porson's; for Southey has been so

singular as to laud some of Mr. Landor's, and Mr. Landor has been so

grateful as to proclaim Southey the sole critic of modern times who

has shown "a delicate perception in poetry." It is rash, too, in him

to insinuate that Southey's opinion could be influenced by his

friendship; for he, the most amiable of men, was nevertheless a

friend of Mr. Lander also. But the only object of this argument is

to show how mal-adroitly Mr. Landor plays at thimblerig. He lets us

see him shift the pea. As for the praise and censure contained in

his dialogues, we have no doubt that any one concerned willingly

makes him a present of both. It is but returning bad money to

Diogenes. It is all Mr. Landor's; and, lest there should be any

doubt about the matter, he has taken care to tell us that he has not

inserted in his dialogues a single sentence written by, or recorded

of, the persons who are supposed to hold them.--See Vol. i. p. 96,

end of note.]

These expressions are at least as fervid as those which you would

reclaim from Porson, now that, like a pettifogging practitioner, you

want to retain him as counsel against the most illustrious of

Southey's friends--the individual of whom in this same dialogue you

cause Southey to ask, "What man ever existed who spent a more retired,

a more inoffensive, a more virtuous life, than Wordsworth, or who

has adorned it with nobler studies?"--and what does Porson answer?

"I believe so; I have always heard it; and _those who attack

him with virulence or with levity are men of no morality and no

reflection_." [116] Thus you print Wordsworth's praise in rubric,

and fix it on the walls, and then knock your head against them. You

must have a hard skull, Mr. Landor.

[Footnote 116: Vol. i. p. 40.]

_Landor_.--Be civil, Mr. North, or I will brain you.

_North_.--Pooh, pooh, man! all your Welsh puddles, which you call

pools, wouldn't hold my brains. To return to your proffered article,

there is one very ingenious illustration in it. "Diamonds sparkle

the most brilliantly on heads stricken by the palsy."

_Landor_.--Yes; I flatter myself that I have there struck out a

new and beautiful, though somewhat melancholy thought.

_North_.--New! My good man, it isn't yours; you have purloined

those diamonds.

_Landor_.--From whom?

_North_.--From the very poet you would disparage--Wordsworth.

"Diamonds dart their brightest lustre

From the palsy-shaken head."

Those lines have been in print above twenty years.

_Landor_.--An untoward coincidence of idea between us.

_North_.--Both original, no doubt; only, as Puff says in the

_Critic_, one of you thought of it the first, that's all. But how

busy would Wordsworth be, and how we should laugh at him for his

pains, if he were to set about reclaiming the thousands of ideas

that have been pilfered from him, and have been made the staple of

volumes of poems, sermons, and philosophical treatises without end!

He makes no stir about such larcenies. And what a coil have you made

about that eternal sea-shell, which you say he stole from you, and

which, we know, is the true and trivial cause of your hostility

towards him!

_Landor_.--Surely I am an ill-used man, Mr. North. My poetry, if

not worth five shillings, nor thanks, nor acknowledgment, was yet

worth borrowing and putting on. I, the author of _Gebir_, Mr. North,

--do you mark me?

_North_.--Yes; the author of Gebir and Gebirus; think of that, St.

Crispin and Crispanus!

"Sing me the fates of Gebir, and the Nymph

Who challenged Tamar to a wrestling match,

And on the issue pledged her precious shell.

Above her knees she drew the robe succinct;

Above her breast, and just below her arms.

'She, rushing at him, closed, and floor'd him flat.

And carried off the prize, a bleating sheep;

The sheep she carried easy as a cloak,

And left the loser blubbering from his fall,

And for his vanish'd mutton. Nymph divine!

I cannot wait describing how she came;

My glance first lighted on her nimble feet;

Her feet resembled those long shells explored

By him who, to befriend his steed's dim sight,

Would blow the pungent powder in his eye.'" [117]

Is that receipt for horse eye-powder to be found in White's Farriery,

Mr. Landor?

[Footnote 117: The lines within inverted commas, are Mr. Landor's,

without alteration.]

_Landor_.--Perhaps not, Mr. North. Will you cease your fooling,

and allow me to proceed? "I," the author of _Gebir_, "never lamented

when I believed it lost." The MS. was mislaid at my grandmother's,

and lay undiscovered for four years. "I saw it neglected; and never

complained. Southey and Forster have since given it a place whence

men of lower stature are in vain on tiptoe to take it down. It would

have been honester and more decorous if the writer of certain verses

had mentioned from what bar he took his wine." [118] Now keep your ears

open, Mr. North; I will read my verses first, and then Wordsworth's.

Here they are. I always carry a copy of them both in my pocket. Listen!

[Footnote 118: Mr. Landor's printed complaint, _verbatim_, from his

"Satire on Satirists."]

_North_.--List, oh list! I am all attention, Mr. Landor.

_Landor_ (reads.)--

"But I have sinuous shells of pearly hue

Within, and they that lustre have imbibed

In the sun's palace-porch, where, when unyoked,

His chariot-wheel stands midway in the wave."

"Shake one, and it awakens--then apply

Its polish'd lip to your attentive ear,

And it remembers its august abodes,

And murmurs as the ocean murmurs there."

These are lines for you, sir! They are mine. What do you think of

them?

_North_.--I think very well of them; they remind one of

Coleridge's "Eolian Harp." They are very pretty lines, Mr. Landor. I

have written some worse myself.

_Landor_--So has Wordsworth. Attend to the echo in the _Excursion_.

"I have seen

A curious child, who dwelt upon a tract

Of inland ground, applying to his ear

The convolutions of a smooth-lipp'd shell,

To which, in silence hush'd, his very soul

Listen'd intensely, and his countenance soon

Brighten'd with joy; for, murmuring from within,

Were heard sonorous cadences, whereby,

To his belief, the monitor express'd

Mysterious union with its native sea."

_North_.--There is certainly much resemblance between the two

passages; and, so far as you have recited Wordsworth's, his is not

superior to yours; which very likely, too, suggested it; though that

is by no means a sure deduction, for the thought itself is as common

as the sea-shell you describe, and, in all probability, at least as

old as the Deluge.

_Landor_.--"_It is but justice to add, that this passage has been

the most admired of any in Mr. Wordsworth's great poem_." [119]

[Footnote 119: From Mr. Landor, _verbatim_.]

_North_.--Hout, tout, man! The author of the _Excursion_ could

afford to spare you a thousand finer passages, and he would seem

none the poorer. As to the imputed plagiarism, Wordsworth would no

doubt have avowed it had he been conscious that it was one, and that

you could attach so much importance to the honour of having reminded

him of a secret in conchology, known to every old nurse in the

country, as well as to every boy or girl that ever found a shell on

the shore, or was tall enough to reach one off a cottage parlour

mantelpiece; but which he could apply to a sublime and reverent

purpose, never dreamed of by them or you. It is in the application

of the familiar image, that we recognise the master-hand of the

poet. He does not stop when he has described the toy, and the

effect of air within it. The lute in Hamlet's hands is not more

philosophically dealt with. There is a pearl within Wordsworth's

shell, which is not to be found in your's, Mr. Landor. He goes on:--

"Even such a shell the universe itself

Is to the ear of Faith; and there are times,

I doubt not, when to you it cloth impart

Authentic tidings of invisible things--

Of ebb and flow, and ever-during power,

And central peace subsisting at the heart

Of endless agitation."

These are the lines of a poet, who not only stoops to pick up a

shell now and then, as he saunters along the sea-shore, but who is

accustomed to climb to the promontory above, and to look upon the

ocean of things:--

"From those imaginative heights that yield

Far-stretching views into eternity."

Do not look so fierce again, Mr. Landor. You who are so censorious of

self-complacency in others, and indeed of all other people's faults,

real or imagined, should endure to have your vanity rebuked.

_Landor_.--I have no vanity. I am too proud to be vain.

_North_.--Proud of what?

_Landor_.--Of something beyond the comprehension of a Scotchman,

Mr. North--proud of my genius.

_North_.--Are you so very great a genius, Mr. Landor?

_Landor_.--I am. _Almighty Homer is twice far above Troy and her

towers, Olympus and Jupiter. First, when Priam bends before Achilles,

and a second time, when the shade of Agamemnon speaks among the dead.

That awful spectre, called up by genius in after-time, shook the

Athenian stage. That scene was ever before me; father and daughter

were ever in my sight; I felt their looks, their words, and again I

gave them form and utterance; and, with proud humility, I say it_--

"I am tragedian in this scene alone.

Station the Greek and Briton side by side

And if derision be deserved--deride."

_Surely there can be no fairer method of overturning an offensive

reputation, from which the scaffolding is not yet taken down, than

by placing against it the best passages, and most nearly parallel,

in the subject, from Æschylus and Sophocles. To this labour the

whole body of the Scotch critics and poets are invited, and, moreover,

to add the ornaments of translation_. [120]

[Footnote 120: This strange rhapsody is verily Mr. Landor's. It is

extracted from his "Satire on the Satirists."]

_North_.--So you are not only a match for Æschylus and Sophocles,

but on a par with "almighty Homer when he is far above Olympus and

Jove." Oh! ho! ho! As you have long since recorded that modest

opinion of yourself in print, and not been lodged in Bedlam for it,

I will not now take upon myself to send for a straight-waistcoat.

_Landor_.--Is this the treatment I receive fron the Editor of

_Blackwood's Magazine_, in return for my condescension in offering

him my assistance? Give me back my manuscript, sir. I was indeed a

fool to come hither. I see how it is. You Scotchmen are all alike.

We consider no part of God's creation so cringing, so insatiable, so

ungrateful as the Scotch: nevertheless, we see them hang together by

the claws, like bats; and they bite and scratch you to the bone if

you attempt to put an Englishman in the midst of them. [121] But you

shall answer for this usage, Mr. North: you shall suffer for it.

These two fingers have more power than all your malice, sir, even if

you had the two Houses of Parliament to back you. A pen! You shall

live for it. [122]

[Footnote 121: Imaginary Conversations, vol. iv, p. 283.]

[Footnote 122: Ibid. vol. i. p. 126.]

_North_.--Fair and softly, Mr. Landor; I have not rejected your

article yet. I am going to be generous. Notwithstanding all your

abuse of Blackwood and his countrymen, I consent to exhibit you to

the world as a Contributor to _Blackwood's Magazine_, and, in the

teeth of all your recorded admiration of Wordsworth, I will allow

you to prove yourself towards him a more formidable critic than

Wakley, and a candidate for immortality with Lauder. Do you rue?

_Landor_.--Not at all. I have past the Rubicon.

_North_.--Is that a pun? It is worthy of Plato. Mr. Landor, you

have been a friend of Wordsworth. But, as _he_ says--

"What is friendship? Do not trust her,

Nor the vows which she has made;

Diamonds dart their brightest lustre

From the palsy-shaken head."

_Landor_.--I have never professed friendship for him.

_North_.--You have professed something more, then. Let me read a

short poem to you, or at least a portion of it. It is an "Ode to

Wordsworth."

"O WORDSWORTH!

That other men should work for me

In the rich mines of poesy,

Pleases me better than the toil

Of smoothing, under harden'd hand,

With attic emery and oil,

The shining point for wisdom's wand,

Like those THOU temperest 'mid the rills

Descending from thy native hills.

He who would build his fame up high,

The rule and plummet must apply,

Nor say--I'll do what I have plann'd,

Before he try if loam or sand

Be still remaining in the place

Delved for each polish'd pillar's base.

_With skilful eye and fit device_

THOU _raisest every edifice_:

Whether in shelter'd vale it stand,

Or overlook the Dardan strand,

Amid those cypresses that mourn

Laodamia's love forlorn."

Four of the brightest intellects that ever adorned any age or country.

are then named, and a fifth who, though not equal to the least of

them, is not unworthy of their company; and what follows?

"I wish them every joy above

That highly blessèd spirits prove,

Save one, and that too shall be theirs,

But after many rolling years,

WHEN 'MID THEIR LIGHT THY LIGHT APPEARS."

Here are Chaucer, Shakspeare, Milton, Spenser, Dryden too, all in

bliss above, yet not to be perfectly blest till the arrival of

Wordsworth among them! Who wrote that, Mr. Landor? [123]

[Footnote 123: Whom Mr. L., who is the most capricious as well as the

most arrogant of censors, sometimes takes into favour.]

_Landor_.--I did, Mr. North.

_North_.--Sir, I accept your article. It shall be published in

_Blackwood's Magazine_. Good-morning, sir.

_Landor_.--Good-day, sir. Let me request your particular attention

to the correction of the press. (_Landor retires_.)

_North_.--He is gone! Incomparable Savage! I cannot more

effectually retaliate upon him for all his invectives against us

than by admitting his gossiping trash into the Magazine. No part of

the dialogue will be mistaken for Southey's; nor even for Porson's

inspirations from the brandy-bottle.

All the honour due to the author will be exclusively Mr. Walter

Savage Landor's; and, as it is certainly "not worth five shillings,"

no one will think it "worth borrowing or putting on."

* * * * *

THE BURIAL MARCH OF DUNDEE.

Sound the fife, and raise the slogan--let the pibroch shake the air

With its wild triumphal music, worthy of the freight we bear;

Let the ancient hills of Scotland hear once more the battle song

Swell within their glens and valleys as the clansmen march along.

Never, from the field of combat, never from the deadly fray,

Was a nobler trophy carried than we bring with us to-day:

Never, since the valiant Douglas in his dauntless bosom bore

Good King Robert's heart--the priceless--to our dear Redeemer's shore!

Lo! we bring with us the hero--Lo! we bring the conquering Graeme,

Crown'd as best beseems a victor from the altar of his fame;

Fresh and bleeding from the battle whence his spirit took its flight

Midst the crashing charge of squadrons, and the thunder of the fight!

Strike, I say, the notes of triumph, as we march o'er moor and lea,

Is there any here will venture to bewail our dead Dundee?

Let the widows of the traitors weep until their eyes are dim;

Wail ye may indeed for Scotland--let none dare to mourn for him!

See, above his glorious body lies the royal banner's fold--

See, his valiant blood is mingled with its crimson and its gold--

See how calm he looks and stately, like a warrior on his shield,

Waiting till the flush of morning breaks upon the battle field.

See--O never more, my comrades! shall we see that falcon eye

Kindle with its inward lightning, as the hour of fight drew nigh;

Never shall we hear the voice that, clearer than the trumpet's call,

Bade us strike for King and Country, bade us win the field or fall!

On the heights of Killiecrankie yester-morn our army lay:

Slowly rose the mist in columns from the river's broken way,

Hoarsely roar'd the swollen torrent, and the pass was wrapp'd in gloom

When the clansmen rose together from their lair among the broom.

Then we belted on our tartans, and our bonnets down we drew,

And we felt our broadswords' edges, and we proved them to be true,

And we pray'd the prayer of soldiers, and we cried the gathering cry,

And we clasp'd the hands of kinsmen, and we swore to do or die!

Then our leader rode before us on his war-horse black as night--

Well the Cameronian rebels knew that charger in the fight!--

And a cry of exultation from the bearded warriors rose,

For we loved the house of Claver'se, and we thought of good Montrose.

But he raised his hand for silence--"Soldiers, I have sworn a vow;

Ere the evening star shall glisten on Schehallion's lofty brow,

Either we shall rest in triumph, or another of the Graemes

Shall have died in battle harness for his country and King James!

Think upon the Royal Martyr--think of what his race endure--

Think on him whom butchers murder'd on the field of Magus Muir;--

By his sacred blood I charge ye--by the ruin'd hearth and shrine--

By the blighted hopes of Scotland--by your injuries and mine--

Strike this day as if the anvil lay beneath your blows the while,

Be they Covenanting traitors, or the brood of false Argyle!

Strike! and drive the trembling rebels backwards o'er the stormy Forth;

Let them tell their pale Convention how they fared within the North.

Let them tell that Highland honour is not to be bought nor sold,

That we scorn their Prince's anger, as we loathe his foreign gold.

Strike! and when the fight is over, if ye look in vain for me,

Where the dead are lying thickest, search for him who was Dundee!"

Loudly then the hills re-echo'd with our answer to his call,

But a deeper echo sounded in the bosoms of us all.

For the lands of wide Breadalbane, not a man who heard him speak

Would that day have left the battle. Burning eye and flushing cheek

Told the clansmen's fierce emotion, and they harder drew their breath,

For their souls were strong within them, stronger than the grasp of

death.

Soon we heard a challenge-trumpet sounding in the pass below,

And the distant tramp of horses, and the voices of the foe;

Down we crouch'd amid the bracken, till the Lowland ranks drew near,

Panting like the hounds in summer when they scent the stately deer.

From the dark defile emerging, next we saw the squadrons come,

Leslie's foot and Leven's troopers marching to the tuck of drum;

Through the scatter'd wood of birches, o'er the broken ground and heath,

Wound the long battalion slowly till they gain'd the field beneath,

Then we bounded from our covert.--Judge how look'd the Saxons then,

When they saw the rugged mountain start to life with armed men!

Like a tempest down the ridges swept the hurricane of steel,

Rose the slogan of Macdonald--flash'd the broadsword of Lochiel!

Vainly sped the withering volley 'mongst the foremost of our band,

On we pour'd until we met them, foot to foot, and hand to hand.

Horse and man went down like drift-wood, when the floods are black at

Yule,

And their carcasses are whirling in the Garry's deepest pool.

Horse and man went down before us--living foe there tarried none

On the field of Killiecrankie, when that stubborn fight was done!

And the evening star was shining on Schehallion's distant head,

When we wiped our bloody broadswords and return'd to count the dead.

There we found him, gash'd and gory, stretch'd upon the cumber'd plain,

As he told us where to seek him, in the thickest of the slain.

And a smile was on his visage, for within his dying ear

Peal'd the joyful note of triumph and the clansmen's clamorous cheer;

So, amidst the battle's thunder, shot, and steel, and scorching flame,

In the glory of his manhood pass'd the spirit of the Graeme!

Open wide the vaults of Athol, where the bones of heroes rest--

Open wide the hallow'd portals to receive another guest!

Last of Scots, and last of freemen--last of all that dauntless race,

Who would rather die unsullied than outlive the land's disgrace!

O thou lion-hearted warrior! reck not of the after-time,

Honour may be deem'd dishonour, loyalty be called a crime.

Sleep in peace with kindred ashes of the noble and the true,

Hands that never fail'd their country, hearts that never baseness knew.

Sleep, and till the latest trumpet wakes the dead from earth and sea,

Scotland shall not boast a braver chieftain than our own Dundee!

W.E.A.

* * * * *

LORD ELLENBOROUGH AND THE WHIGS.

The period of a single year but just elapsed has exhibited in the

neighbourhood of the Indus events of the most memorable and

momentous kind. Disasters the most disgraceful have been

endured--victories the most brilliant have been achieved. The policy

and the fortunes of a mighty empire under one governor, have been

wholly reversed under another. Safety and security have been

substituted for danger and dismay--a strong and dignified peace for

a weak and aggressive war. These changes have been coincident with a

great revolution in domestic politics. Under Whig auspices those

evils had arisen which their successors have now redressed. Under

the administration of Whigs, that flood of calamity was opened up

which has been arrested without their aid; but which could not have

continued its threatened course without the most perilous

consequences to the country, and the heaviest burden of responsibility

on the authors of the mischief.

In such circumstances it might have been expected--if manly courage

or common decency were to be looked for in such a quarter--that on

these Eastern questions the Whig party should this session have

followed one or other of two courses: either that they should have

taken a bold line of opposition, and vindicated their own Indian

policy, while they attacked that of their successors: or that they

should have preserved a prudent silence on subjects where they could

say nothing in their own praise, and have only lifted up their voice

to join the general acclamations of the country for successes in

which, though not achieved by themselves, they had the best reason

to rejoice, as shielding them from the ignominy and punishment which,

in an opposite event, would have been poured out by public

indignation on the heads of the original wrongdoers.

A strong or an honest party would have chosen one or other of these

lines. But the Whigs are neither strong nor honest; and they have

accordingly, in the late Indian discussions in Parlament, pursued a

course of policy in which it is difficult to say whether feebleness

or fraud be the more conspicuous. They have not ventured to

vindicate their own conduct in invading the Affghan country: they

have not dared to dispute the wisdom of their successors in retiring

from it, when the object of a just retribution was accomplished. But

while driven from these points--while forced to acknowledge the

ability and judgment with which the present Governor-General has

applied the forces of the empire to retrieve our honour and

reputation in the East--while unable to point to a single practical

measure as either improperly taken, or improperly omitted by him,

the Whigs could not refrain, on some pretext or other, from marring

the general joy by the discordant hissings of an impotent envy.

Experiencing in an unparalleled degree both the indulgence of a

generous nation, who are willing to forget the past in the enjoyment

of the present, and the forbearance of high-minded opponents, who

could easily have triumphed in the exposure of their disastrous

blunders, the Whigs have made a characteristic return, by

rancorously assailing the man whom the public views as its benefactor,

with captious criticisms on the terms of a proclamation, or

hypocritical objections to the transmission of a trophy. With that

cunning which the faction have often shown in the use of apparent

opportunities, they gained the reluctant concurrence of a few upright

men, of whose peculiar scruples they contrived to avail themselves,

but with an ignorance of the true English character, for which they

are equally distinguished, they overshot the mark, and stand

convicted of a design to make a verbal misconstruction the pretence

for persecuting an absent man, and to convert honest prejudices into

an unconscious instrument of oppression. They have thus earned a

large allowance of general contempt, and they have nowhere, perhaps,

excited a stronger feeling of disgust than in the minds of those who

thought themselves compelled, by a rigid conscience, to give a

seeming concurrence to their proceedings.

In judging of the conduct and position of Lord Ellenborough, it were

gross ingratitude and injustice to forget the nature of the

calamities with which India was assailed and threatened at the

commencement of his goverment. In the second week of March 1842, the

overland mail from the East conveyed intelligence to our shores which

struck the nation to the very heart, and spread one universal

feeling of grief and dismay, approaching for a time as near to a

feeling of despondency as English breasts can be taught to know. Let

us describe the effect in the words of an impartial observer writing

at the time:--

"No such disastrous news has for many years reached this country as

that which has arrived from India. 'The progress of our arms' was

carried merrily on, till our flag was set beside that of our puppet,

Shah Soojah, in Cabul; but there the progress has abruptly

terminated in the total engulfing of 'our arms.' Yes, Sir William

Macnaghten had just written home to declare our supremacy established,

when all Cabul rose beneath his feet. Sir Alex. Burnes was the first

swallowed in the earthquake of arms; next Sir William himself,

governor of Bombay, and representative of the power of England in

North-Western India, was destroyed, and his mutilated remains were

made the object of ignominious ribaldry; and at length, if very

general rumour is to be believed, the English army of occupation has

been literally expunged. Corunna, Walcheren, all the reverses that

have chequered our military career, baffle the memory to find a

parallel to the utter defeat which, in the eyes of the barbarians of

the Indian frontier, has crushed our power."--_Spectator_, p. 242.

These were the feelings that possessed this country, and which wrung,

even from the Whigs, with every wish to palliate them, an

acknowledgment of the heavy disasters which had befallen us. Pressed

with the weight of these convictions, Mr. Macaulay, in a debate on

the Income-tax, in April 1842, after _cannily_ disclaiming any

responsibility for the Affghan invasion, as having been effected

before he joined the Government, was driven to deplore these

military reverses as the greatest disaster that had ever befallen us:

and added, somewhat incongruously:--

"He did not anticipate, if we acted with vigour, the least danger to

our empire; though it must always be remembered that a great

Mahometan success could not but fall like a spark upon tinder, and

act on the freemasonry of Islamism from Morocco to Coromandel."

What, then, must have been the feeling in India, in the very focus of

this calamitous visitation? Lord Auckland's despatches, now made

public, will tell us what _he_ felt. That he contemplated from the

first the total and instant evacuation of Affghanistan, without

attempting a blow for the vindication of our honour, or the release

of the prisoners, is past all dispute, from documents under his own

hand. Whether he is to be blamed for this resolution, or for the

state of matters which rendered it necessary, is not here the

question. But the fact is remarkable, as throwing further light on

the effrontery of the Whigs. Lord Palmerston, in last August,

twitted the Ministry with Lord Ellenborough's supposed intention to

retire from beyond the Indus, and congratulated the country on the

frustration of that intention, as having saved us "from the eternal

disgrace." He was answered by the Prime Minister at the time in

terms that might have been a warning, and that are now no longer a

mystery.

"The noble lord presumed much on my forbearance, in what he said with

respect to the Affghan war: and I will not be betrayed by any

language of his to forget what I owe to the public service in

replying to him. It is easy to say, why don't you move troops to

Candahar; and why don't you move troops somewhere else? The noble

lord finds no difficulty in this; but does he recollect that 26,000

camels, carrying the baggage of the troops in Affghanistan, were

sacrificed before they reached it? The noble lord says, 'Who

contemplated the abandonment of Affghanistan?' _I could tell the

noble lord_. Beware, I say; let the noble lord beware of

indiscriminate reflections upon those in office."

It is now known "_who_ contemplated the abandonment of Affghanistan,"

without a struggle to punish the perfidy of the Affghans, to avenge

the insults to our honour, or to redress the wrongs of our countrymen.

Lord Auckland resolved on this course, without even an aspiration

after any thing better than a safe retreat. Nor is such a resolution

to be wondered at when the state of our military preparations is

considered. A letter from Sir Jasper Nicolls, of 24th January 1842,

to the statements in which we see no contradiction in the _Blue Book_,

exhibits at once the condition of our resources, and the feelings of

the head of the Indian army.

"After I had dispatched my letter to your Lordship in Council, I

received the note, of which I transmit a copy herewith, from the

Adjutant-General, and I had a second discussion with Mr. Clerk on the

subject of holding our ground at Jellalabad against any Affghan

power or force, in view to retrieving our position at Cabul, by

advancing upon it, at the fit season, simultaneously from Candahar

to Jellalabad. Having thus regained our position, and the influence

which such proof of power must give, not only in Affghanistan but

amongst all the neighbouring states, we should withdraw with dignity

and undiminished honour. Admitting the undeniable force of this

argument, I am greatly inclined to doubt that we have at present

either army or funds sufficient to renew this contest. Money may,

perhaps, be attainable, but soldiers are not, without leaving India

bare. Shortly before I left Calcutta, there were at least 33,000 men

in our pay in Affghanistan and Scinde, including Shah Soojah's troops,

but not the rabble attached to his person. How insufficient that

number has been to awe the barbarous and at first disunited tribes

of Affghanistan and Scinde, our numerous conflicts, our late reverses,

and our heavy losses fully prove. I admit that a blind confidence in

persons around the late envoy--a total want of forethought and

foresight on his part--unaccountable indecision at first,

followed by cessions which, day by day, rendered our force more

helpless--inactivity, perhaps, on some occasions--have led to these

reverses; but we must not overlook the effects of climate, the

difficulty of communication, the distance from our frontier, and the

fanatical zeal of our opponents. No doubt your lordship can cause an

army to force its way to Cabul, if you think our name and

predominance in India cannot otherwise be supported; but our means

are utterly insufficient to insure our dominion over that country.

If this be granted, the questions for your lordship's decision

are--whether we shall retake Cabul, to assert our paramount power;

and whether, if we subsequently retire, our subjects and neighbours

will not attribute our withdrawal even then, to conscious inability

to hold the country."

In the same spirit the Commander-in-chief, in the beginning of

February transmitted to General Pollock, with the acquiescence of

lord Auckland, to whom he communicated his letter, the following

explanation of the views of Government:--

"You may deem it perfectly certain that Government will not do more

than detach this brigade, and this in view to support Major-General

Sale, either at Jellalabad for a few weeks, or to aid his retreat;

very probably also to strengthen the Sikhs at Peshawar for some time.

It is not intended to collect a force for the reconquest of Cabul.

You will convey the preceding paragraph, if you safely can, to the

Major-General."

Such being the desponding views of the authorities stationed on the

spot, what must have been the anxiety of the new Governor-General on

his arrival in India, when this scene of disaster suddenly opened

upon him with a succession of still further calamities in its train?

We cannot better describe his position than in the words of Sir

Robert Peel, in his speech on the Whig motion for censure--

"The moment he set foot in Madras, what intelligence met him!--the

day he arrived at Benares, what a succession of events took place,

calculated to disturb the firmest mind, and to infuse apprehensions

into the breast of the boldest man! It has been said the cry in

England was, 'What next?' That was a question which Lord

Ellenborough had to put to himself for four or five days after his

arrival. He lands at Madras on the 15th of February, presuming at

the time that his predecessor had secured the admirable position so

frequently spoken of in Affghanistan. He lands at Madras, after a

four months' voyage, in necessary ignorance of all that had occurred

in that interval of time, and to his astonishment he hears of the

insurrection at Cabul. He receives tidings that Sir William

Macnaghten and Sir Alexander Burnes, the envoy and representative of

the British Government, had been murdered; that the city was in a

state of insurrection, and that doubts were entertained as to the

security of the British army. What next? He arrives at Calcutta, and

there hears of the orders of his predecessor to hasten the

evacuation of Affghanistan, for the noble reason of inflicting as

little discredit as possible upon the British powers. He repairs to

Benares, and there he hears the tremendous news that not only you

had lost power in Affghanistan, but that you had so depressed the

spirits and shaken the confidence of the native army, that General

Pollock gives this melancholy account in a letter to Captain M'Gregor:

--'It must no doubt appear to you and Sale most extraordinary, that,

with the force I have here, I do not at once move on; God knows it

has been my anxious wish to do so, but I have been helpless. I came

on ahead to Peshawar to arrange for an advance, but was saluted with

a report of 1900 sick, and a bad feeling among the Sepoys. I visited

the hospitals, and endeavoured to encourage by talking to them, but

they had no heart. On the 1st instant the feeling on the part of the

Sepoys broke out, and I had the mortification of knowing that the

Hindoos of four out of five native corps refused to advance. I

immediately took measures to sift the evil, and gradually reaction

has taken place, in the belief that I will wait for the

reinforcements. This has caused me the utmost anxiety on your account;

your situation is never out of my thoughts; but having told you what

I have, you and Sale will at once see that necessity has kept me here.

I verily believe, if I were to attempt to move on now without the

reinforcement, that the four regiments implicated would, as far as

the Hindoos are concerned, stand fast. The case, therefore, now

stands thus--whether I am to attempt, with my present materials, to

advance, and risk the appearance of disaffection or cowardice, which

in such a case could not again be got over, or wait the arrival of a

reinforcement, which will make all sure--this is the real state of

the case. If I attempted now, I might risk you altogether; but if

you can hold out, the reinforcements would make your relief as

certain as any earthly thing can be.' What next? On the 17th of April,

Lord Ellenborough hears of the failure of General England to force

the Kojuck Pass. On the 19th of April he hears that Ghuznee has

fallen. And what next? This was a question which, I repeat, Lord

Ellenborough had from day to day to put to himself. But what next?

Lord Ellenborough had to contemplate the retirement of the British

force from Afghanistan. This was due to the safety of the British

army, after the proof that the king you had set upon the throne had

no root in the affections of the people, and that the army in

possession of Affghanistan was separated from supplies by a distance

of 600 miles. Finding this state of things, Lord Ellenborough

thought he had no alternative but to bring the troops within the

borders of British protection. For that difficult operation your

policy, and not that of Lord Ellenborough, is responsible. Those who

involved the country in an expedition of this kind, ought justly to

be responsible for its retirement."

It is needless to detail the difficulties in which the armies of

General Pollock and General Nott were then placed. Despondency and

desertion prevailed among the native troops, so as to render any

advance in the utmost degree hazardous, even if they had been

capable of moving. But of the means even of retrograde motion they

were utterly destitute. The explanations given in Parliament on the

vote of thanks to the army and the Governor-General, establish

beyond a doubt the absence of all means of carriage till the

indefatigable exertions of Lord Ellenborough supplied them with

every thing that was needed. The Whigs affect to disparage these

arrangements as belonging to the vulgar department of a

Commissary-General; and we may therefore infer that Lord

Ellenborough's predecessor would have deemed such a task beneath his

dignity, and left it to some delegate, who might have performed or

neglected his duty, as accident might direct. Had that been the case,

the chances are at least equal, that Lord Auckland would have been

as well and as successfully served in this branch of military

administration as he had already been in the occupation of Cabul,

and that further failures and reverses would have hung the tenure of

our Indian empire on the cast of a die.

The evacuation of Affghanistan at the earliest possible period, was

dictated both by the proceedings of Lord Auckland, by the condition

of India, and by the peaceful policy of a Conservative Government.

But the mode in which it should be accomplished, and the

demonstrations of British power which should attend it, were

necessarily questions depending entirely "upon military

considerations;" and for several months it seemed impossible that

our armies could be put in a state of moral and physical strength,

such as could justify the risk of any forward or devious movement of

importance. The indefatigable zeal and admirable arrangements,

however, of the Governor-General, his personal presence near the

scene of exertion, the concentration of a large and imposing force

on the Sutlej, giving courage and security to the troops in the field,

and the undaunted spirit of British officers, succeeded at last in

giving, an altered and more encouraging complexion to the aspect of

our affairs. In one of the first statements of his views, Lord

Ellenborough had significantly said, (15th March 1842:)--

"We are fully sensible of the advantages which would be derived from

the re-occupation of Cabul, the scene of our great disaster and of

so much crime, even for week--of the means which it might afford of

recovering the prisoners, of the gratification which it would give

to the army, and of the effect which it would have upon our enemies.

Our withdrawal might then be made to rest upon an official

declaration of the grounds upon which we retired, as solemn as that

which accompanied our advance; and we should retire as a conquering,

and not as a defeated, power."

But it was only in July that the Governor-General was in a condition

to suggest the practical accomplishment of this desirable object,

incidentally to our retirement from a country which we should never

have entered. On the 4th July is dated the admirable despatch to

General Nott, which, in the opinion of the Duke of Wellington, was

all that could have been wished for, and which we cannot help

transferring to our columns:--

"You will have learnt from Mr. Maddock's letters of the 13th May and

1st of June, that it was not expected that your movement towards

the Indus could be made till October, regard being had to the health

and efficiency of your army. You appear to have been able to give a

sufficient equipment to the force you recently despatched to

Kelat-i-Ghilzie, under Colonel Wymer; and since his return, you will

have received, as I infer from a private letter addressed by Major

Outram to Captain Durand, my private secretary, a further supply of

3000 camels.

"I have now, therefore, reason to suppose, _for the first time_,

that you have the means of moving a very large proportion of your

army, with ample equipment for any service.

"There has been no deficiency of provisions at Candahar at any time;

and, immediately after the harvest, you will have an abundant supply.

"Nothing has occurred to induce me to change my first opinion, that

the measure, commanded by considerations of political and military

prudence, is to bring back the armies now in Affghanistan at the

earliest period at which their retirement can be effected,

consistently with the health and efficiency of the troops, into

positions wherein they may have easy and certain communication with

India; and to this extent, the instructions you have received remain

unaltered. _But the improved position of your army, with sufficient

means of carriage for as large a force as it is necessary to move in

Affghanistan, induced me now to leave to your option the line by

which you shall withdraw your troops from that country_.

"I must desire, however, that, in forming your decision upon this

most important question, you will attend to the following

considerations:--

"In the direction of Quetta and Sukkur, there is no enemy to oppose

you; at each place occupied by detachments, you will find provisions:

and probably, as you descend the passes, you will have increased

means of carriage. The operation is one admitting of no doubt as to

its success.

"If you determine upon moving upon Ghuznee, Cabul, and Jellalabad,

you will require, for the transport of provisions, a much larger

amount of carriage, and you will be practically without

communications from the time of your leaving Candahar. Dependent

entirely upon the courage of your army, and upon your own ability in

direction it, I should not have any doubt as to the success of the

operations; but whether you will be able to obtain provisions for

your troops during the whole march, and forage for your animals, may

be a matter of reasonable doubt. Yet upon this your success will turn.

"You must remember that it was not the superior courage of the

Affghans, but want, and the inclemency of the season, which led to

the destruction of the army at Cabul; and you must feel, as I do,

that the loss of another army, from whatever cause it might arise,

might be fatal to our government in India.

"I do not undervalue the account which our government in India would

receive from the successful execution by your army of a march

through Ghuznee and Cabul, over the scenes of our late disasters. I

know all the effect with it would have upon the minds of our soldiers,

of our allies, of our enemies in Asia, and of our countrymen, and of

all foreign nations in Europe. It is an object of just ambition,

which no one more than myself would rejoice to see effected; but I

see that failure in the attempt is certain and irretrievable ruin;

and I would endeavour to inspire you with the necessary caution,

and make you feel that, great as are the objects to be obtained by

success, the risk is great also.

"If you determine upon moving by Ghuznee, and entirely give up your

communication by Quetta, I should suggest that you should take with

you only the most efficient troops and men you have, securing the

retreat of the remainder upon Killa, Abdoola, and Quetta.

"You will in such case, consider it to be entirely a question to be

decided by yourself, according to circumstances, whether you shall

destroy or not the fortifications of Candahar; but, before you set

out upon your adventurous march, do not fail to make the retirement

of the force you leave behind you perfectly secure, and give such

instructions as you deem necessary for the ultimate retirement of the

troops in Scinde, upon Sukkur.

"You will recollect that what you will have to make is a successful

march; that that march must not be delayed by any hazardous

operations against Ghuznee or Cabul; that you should carefully

calculate the time required to enable you to reach Jellalabad in the

first week in October, so as to form the rearguard of Major-General

Pollock's army. If you should be enabled by _coup-de-main_ to get

possession of Ghuznee and Cabul, you will act as you see fit,

_and leave decisive proofs of the power of the British army,

without impeaching its humanity_. You will bring away from the tomb

of Mahmood of Ghuznee, his club, which hangs over it; and you will

bring away the gates of his tomb, which are the gates of the Temple

of Somnauth. _These will be the just trophies of your successful

march_.

"You will not fail to disguise your intention of moving, and to

acquaint Major-General Pollock with your plans as soon as you have

formed them. _A copy of this letter will be forwarded to

Major-General Pollock to-day; and he will be instructed, by a

forward movement, to facilitate your advance_; but he will probably

not deem it necessary to move any troops actually to Cabul, where

your force will be amply sufficient to beat any thing the Affghans

can oppose to it. The operations, however, of the two armies must be

combined upon their approach, so as to effect, with the least

possible loss, the occupation of Cabul, and keep open the

communications between Cabul and Peshawar.

"One apprehension upon my mind is, that, in the event of your

deciding upon moving on Jellalabad, by Ghuznee and Cabul, the

accumulation of so great a force as that of your army, combined with

Major-General Pollock's, in the narrow valley of the Cabul river,

may produce material difficulties in the matter of provisions and

forage; but every effort will be made from India to diminish that

difficulty, should you adopt that line of retirement.

"This letter remains absolutely secret. I have, &c.

"ELLENBOROUGH."

A paltry attempt was made in Parliament by Lord John Russell to

represent this despatch as intended to defraud General Nott of his

military trophies in the event of success, and to relieve the

Governor-General of responsibility in the event of failure. No such

base construction can be put upon it. Lord Ellenborough was doing his

own duty as a civil minister, and leaving General Nott to do _his_

as a military commander. A military responsibility lay on General

Nott, from which no ruler could relieve him; but the military glory

was his also, if he felt himself justified in choosing the path of

honour that was opened to him. Who grudges the triumphs that General

Nott and his companions-in-arms have achieved? Not certainly Lord

Ellenborough or his friends. Let the distinctions which have been

heaped on the Indian army and its leaders answer that question. But

is their military merit a reason for denying to the man, under whose

administration these victories were won, the high honour of having

done all which a civil governor could do, to direct and assist the

armies of his country? Let each receive the praise of his own merits,

and we doubt not that military men, wherever, at least, they have

experienced the reverse, will be the first to appreciate and commend,

in Lord Ellenborough's administration, that active sympathy and

assistance which are so essential to military efficiency and success.

It is said that the despatch of the 4th of July is qualified by

heavy cautions. And should it not have been so? In addressing a

British officer with a field of exertion before him, so glorious in

a military, so hazardous in a political view, it is surely not the

spur, but the curb, that a civilian was called on to apply. The

courage of such a commander required nothing to fan the flame: The

danger, if any, was rather that he would rashly seize the

opportunity afforded him, than that he would timidly resign it; and

if he was not prepared to adopt the bolder course, in the face of

all the hazards which attended it, it was best that the enterprize

should not be undertaken at all.

But Lord Ellenborough knew his man. In appointing General Nott, in

March, to the command of all the troops, and entrusting him with the

control of all the agents in Lower Affghanistan, the Governor and

Council had desired him "to rely upon our constant support, and upon

our placing the most favourable interpretation upon all the measures

he may deem it necessary to adopt in the execution of our orders."

And in now giving him the option of retiring by Cabul, Lord

Ellenborough was assured that the General needed no other

encouragement to avail himself of it, than the feeling that all

counter-considerations had been stated and duly weighed. Every

preparation was immediately made to support General Nott in his

adventurous enterprize; and Lord Ellenborough writes to General

Pollock:--

"I am in hopes that Major-General Nott will to-day be in possession

of my letter of the 4th instant, and that you will, very soon after

you receive this letter, be made acquainted with the Major-General's

intentions. _My expectation is_, that Major-General Nott will feel

himself sufficiently strong, and be sufficiently provided with

carriage, to march upon Ghuznee and Cabul."

The result was such as had been looked for. The combined operation

of the two armies placed the Affghans at our mercy, and terminated,

by the ample vindication of our honour, and the restoration of our

imprisoned friends, our inauspicious connexion with these barbarians,

who had retaliated so cruelly the aggression we had made upon them.

It may be safely conjectured, that if these final triumphs had been

achieved under the direction of Lord Auckland, even though merely

retrieving the errors of his former policy, we should never have

heard an end of the eulogiums pronounced upon him. Lord John Russell

would have crowed and clapped his wings in the "moment of victory."

Lord Palmerston would have blustered more brazenly than ever.

Mr. Macaulay would have aired the whole stores of his panegyrical

vocabulary; and Sir John Hobhouse would not have gone abroad.

But, under whatever Government achieved, these results would have

filled the minds of patriotic men with unmingled gratitude to all

who had contributed to their accomplishment. India had been in danger,

and was safe. The British arms had been stained by defeat, and were

again glancing brightly in the light of victory. Our countrymen and

countrywomen had been almost hopeless captives, and were now

restored to freedom and their friends. In such a scene and season of

rejoicing, we might have thought that none but a Whig of the very

oldest school of all, could have entertained any feelings but those

of generous sympathy and unrepining satisfaction. But limits cannot

easily be put to human perverseness. The party whose policy had

caused the evils from which we and they have been delivered, felt

nothing but intense hatred to him who had been most prominent in

that deliverance; and, heedless of the good that he had done, they

fastened on what seemed to their malignant and microscopic vision

some specks that chequered his otherwise unblemished administration

of affairs.

The idea of discussing in Parliament, as we have lately witnessed,

the literary style of a Government state paper at a crisis so

momentous, implies a levity that would be hateful if it were not

ludicrous. But there is something peculiarly laughable in the

pedantry of such criticism. When other men are thinking of what has

been done, the reviewers and poetasters of the Whig Opposition can

think only of what has been said. The facts that are before them

have no value in their eyes; they see nothing but the phraseology.

From men who had themselves done nothing but what was mischievous,

this is perhaps natural. They are content, possibly, if they have

never said a foolish thing, to have never done a wise one; though we

are doubtful if a taunt about simplicity of composition, either

comes well from the noble leader of the Whigs, or his friends, when

we remember some of their old achievements in addressing their

supporters. But in the peculiar position of the Whigs, with ignominy

and impeachment suspended over their heads for their Affghan errors,

we think that such a course is as becoming as if a condemned

criminal were to carp at the literary composition of his own reprieve.

The tactics of the Whigs in their move against Lord Ellenborough, had

all the craft of conscious weakness. First, they postponed their

motion from time to time, till they were rescued by their opponents

from Mr. Roebuck's assault upon them. Then they arranged their

attack for the same night in both Houses of Parliament, lest

explanations in any high quarter in the one might damage a future

discussion in the other; and lastly, though thus acting by

simultaneous and concerted movements in both, they framed their

motions differently in each place; and in the Commons, where they had

some dream of better success, confined themselves to the religious

question under the letter on the Somnauth gates, omitting the Simla

proclamation of the 1st October, which they knew neither

Conservative nor Radical would join them to condemn.

With regard to the Somnauth gates, a pettier piece of hypercriticism,

and a more palpable exhibition of hypocrisy, were never witnessed on

a public question. Two things on this point are as plain as day.

1. That in retiring from the Affghan country, we were called upon to

do so as much as possible in the light of triumphant victors,

bearing every mark of military prowess and superiority that could

readily be assumed, and inflicting as heavy a blow, and as severe a

discouragement on our perfidious enemies, as humanity would permit.

2. That, the Affghan trophies of Mahmoud's success were treasured up

by his nation as an assurance of continued ascendancy over their

Hindoo neighbours; and that, in particular, the redelivery to India

of these very gates of Somnauth, were, in negotiations of recent date,

demanded by Runjeet Singh as an inestimable boon, and deprecated by

Shah Soojah as a degrading humiliation.

Keeping in view these undeniable circumstances, it is clear that the

seizure of these Somnauth gates was appropriately ordered as a

palpable and permanent demonstration of conquest, and one eminently

calculated to encourage the Indian army, and to depress their enemies.

That these gates were connected with the religion of the country, is

of no relevancy in this matter. Every thing relating to Hindoo

grandeur is more or less interwoven with religion; but we must take

things as they are. We are the rulers of Hindostan; where the vast

preponderance of our subjects and soldiers are Hindoos. We wish them

to be Christians, but they are not so yet; and, until they become

Christianized, we cannot hope or wish that they should forget the

only faith which they have to raise them above the earth they tread.

Their religion is corrupted to the core; but in its primitive type,

after which its worshippers will sometimes even yet aspire, it is

not destitute of a high spirituality that would seek to assimilate

and unite men's souls to the Great Being, whom they reverence as the

maker, maintainer, and changer of the universe. Hindooism is more

fantastic, and less pleasingly endeared to us, than the paganism of

Greece, but it is scarcely more lax or licentious; yet if Fortune,

in its caprices, had ordained our Indian subjects to be heathen

Greeks, with a Whig Governor-General bringing them back in triumph

to their homes, Lord Palmerston, who now, in a mingled rant of

mythology, and methodism, talks of "Dii and Jupiter hostis," would

himself have penned a paragraph about the restored temple of Mars or

Venus, and would have held up the scruples of Sir Robert Inglis and

Mr. Plumptre to classical ridicule.

But it is plain that here no religious triumph was, or could have

been, contemplated by Lord Ellenborough. On this point we need no

other evidence than that of Joseph Hume, who, combining the

properties of Balaam and his ass, often brays out a blessing when he

intends a curse. He tells us that--

A Hindoo of high caste, now in this country, the Vakeel of the Rajah

of Sattara, had written to him a letter, in which he stated--

"It appears to me that the restoration of the gates of Somnauth

could have no reference either to the support or degradation of any

religious faith. To restore the gates to their original purpose is

impracticable by the tenets of the Hindoo religion. Their doctrine is,

that any thing, when in contact with a dead body, or any thing

belonging to it, whether tomb or garment, is utterly contaminated and

unfit for religious purposes. In my opinion, therefore, the

proclamation must have been intended to gratify the feelings of the

Hindoo portion of our army, by removing a stain which the western

portion of India had long felt oppressive. In fact, he believed that

the Governor-General, by this means, conciliated the feelings of the

Hindoo soldiery in their return from those scenes of death and

disaster in which they had behaved so well, and where thousands of

their fellow-countrymen had fallen. I hope that this intention of

Lord Ellenborough to conciliate the princes of India will extend to

my unfortunate master.' This letter was from (we believe) Rumgoo

Baffagee, Vakeel of the Rajah of Sattara, and he thought it was so

important, that he had sent for the Vakeel, whom he found a most

intelligent man; and from his conversation he (Mr. Hume) was

satisfied that, so far from being applied to the Hindoo population

exclusively, it was utterly impossible that the gates could be used

for the religious purposes to which the Governor-General seemed to

have destined them. He had satisfied him (Mr. Hume) that the object

of the proclamation was merely to bring back to Western India those

gates, the absence of which in Afghanistan had long been felt as an

opprobrium. He hoped therefore, that those religious sects who had

most unnecessarily take the alarm on this score, would be appeased.

So far from the proclamation being an exclusive one, no single

sentence was there in it which could be read after the address to

'_all_ the princes and chiefs, and people of India,' as applicable

to any one."

But it is said that such a trophy may give offence to Mahommedans;

and Mr. Mangles tells us, that the Mohommedan population sympathize

strongly with the Affghans, and revere the memory of Mahmoud. If

that be the case, it would have been difficult to bring any trophy

home, or to imprint any mark of the superiority of our arms, without

displeasing this sect. But, in that view, who are the parties

responsible for thus placing our essential interests, and the safety

of India generally, in contrast with the feelings of Mohommedan

subjects? Those certainly who, regardless of all justice, made a

wanton aggression on a Mahommedan power. Those certainly who,

regardless of all prudence, gave occasion to the Affghan massacre

and captivity of British and Indian soldiers; and, by a great

Mahommedan success, kindled a spark which was ready to set the

freemasonry of Islamism on fire "from Morocco to Coromandel." If we

have been placed in a false position, as regards our Mahommedan

subjects, we have to blame the Whigs, whose wanton and unwise

measures created this collision of interests, and not Lord

Ellenborough, who has adopted measures the most natural and the most

humane, to reestablish the ascendancy and the reputation of English

and Indian power.

The proclamation of Simla needs no vindication. It has satisfied

every one but the Whigs, who can never forget and never forgive it.

It is poor pretence to say, that it denounces in an indecorous

manner the errors of the previous governor. It does no such thing.

It speaks, indeed, of errors, but only conscious culpability would

have taken the allusion to itself. There were errors, and grievous

ones. The Whigs themselves must say that; and they have not been

slow to shift to the shoulders of military officers the results that

most people think they should bear themselves. The proclamation of

Lord Ellenborough seems to us to have been framed with a punctilious

desire to reconcile in the eyes of India his own policy with that

which had been avowed by his predecessor, and to ascribe the change

of plans to a change of circumstances, and not of principles. We

speak here of the avowed policy of his predecessor; for Lord Auckland,

at least, pretended that he had no aggressive or hostile views

against the Affghans, and no desire for a permanent occupation of

their country. The real designs of the Whig Government are a

different thing; and with these, as avowed by Lord Palmerston in

Parliament, the intentions of Lord Ellenborough were wholly

irreconcilable.

Let us listen here to one who knows the subject. The Duke of

Wellington tells us the errors that Lord Ellenborough alludes to as

occasioning our military disasters, and he shows us where those

errors lay:--

"There is not a word in this proclamation that is not strictly

true. But I do not blame the noble lord opposite, the late

Governor-General of India; yet I cannot help looking _at the enormous

errors_ which have been committed from the commencement of these

transactions in which these disasters originated, down to the last

retreat from Cabul--I say, looking at all this, I still must blame,

not the late Governor-General, but the gentlemen who acted under him.

In the first place, I attribute the error to the gentleman who fell

a victim to his own want of judgment. The army unfortunately was

partly English and partly Hindoo--not Affghans, but Hindoos. What

was the consequence? To maintain the whole system of the government,

including the collection of the revenue, devolved upon that army.

All the details of the government were carried on through the agency

of that English and Hindoo army, and eventually it became necessary

to support that army with some troops in the service of the Company.

Now, the gentleman who was responsible for this ought to have known

that there was one rule, the violation of which any one acquainted

with the government of India knew nothing could justify, and that was,

the employment of the Company's European troops in the collection of

the revenue. That rule is invariably laid down, and is invariably

observed. That, as your lordships must plainly see, is one of the

errors that has been committed. There is another point to which I

wish to call your attention; it is this, that the country never had

been occupied by an army as it ought to have been occupied. With the

north no practicable communication was maintained--no practicable

communications were kept up between Shikarpore, Candahar, and Ghuznee.

The passes were held only through the agency of banditti. I do not

blame the noble lord, but I blame the gentleman to whom the army was

entrusted. He seemed never to have looked at what had been done by

former commanders in similar circumstances. Any officer who has the

command of an army ought to feel it to be his first duty to keep up

a communication with his own country. If such communication had been

maintained, those disasters never would have befallen us--they could

not have happened. This was one of the errors committed; but I do

not say that the noble lord opposite is answerable for that error.

Not only was no communication kept up with the north, but none was

kept up with the south. Neither the Kojuck nor the Bolan pass was

kept open. Can that, my lords, be called a military communication?

Could such a state of things exist? Why, was not this another

error--a gross error? The noble lord opposite (Lord Auckland) had no

more to do with this than I have. Sir W. Macnaghten, the gentleman

who perished, could not have been ignorant of what was done in other

places. He must have read the history of the Spanish war, and he

must have recollected how the French conducted themselves in a

similar situation; how they fortified the passes, and secured their

communications. But he was not an officer; the gentleman at the head

of the army in Affghanistan was not an officer--that was another

error."

That such errors existed is undeniable. Lord Auckland says there

were errors:--

"With regard to the errors of the campaign, he conceived they rested

with the military commanders, not with Sir W. Macnaghten; and if

errors had been committed by Sir William, they must be shared

between him and the more direct military commanders."

Lord John Russell said,--

"I have heard causes given, and upon very high authority, for these

disasters; I have heard it stated that very great errors were

committed--that those errors consisted partly in not keeping up a

communication by the straightest road between Cabul and Peshawar.

This may be just; these may be errors, but they are errors not

necessary or in any way connected with the policy of entering into

Affghanistan. I may mention another circumstance--that the

expedition into Affghanistan was undertaken under Lord Keane, who was

shortly after succeeded by Sir W. Cotton; he came home, and was

succeeded by General Elphinstone, who, from the time of assuming the

command, never appears to have been in the state of vigorous health

necessary for such a position. Are not these circumstances to be

taken into account? If my Lord Auckland had had at his disposal any

of those illustrious men who had honoured the British army in later

days--if such a man as Lord Keane had remained in Cabul--my

persuasion is, you would never have heard of such a disaster as that

which took place at Cabul."

We shall leave the Whigs to settle the question with their

subordinates, as to the precise degree of blame which each of the

parties shall bear. But there is seldom blame with the servants

without blame in the master; and it is one of Lord Ellenborough's

just titles to our praise, that he has been ably served by the

officers whom he so ably supported.

If our Affghan disasters were imputable to gross errors in detail,

was it not right to denounce the cause? It would have been a

melancholy thing if we had been thus betrayed and circumvented

without errors in our own servants. If British troops had been thus

cut off, notwithstanding the use of every prudent precaution, the

disasters would then have gone far to put in question the

invincibility of our military power. It was necessary to declare,

that by individual and special mal-arrangement, this unparalleled

disaster had arisen; so that none of our enemies should thence

derive a hope to crush us again, until at least the incompetent

officials of a confiding Whig Government should give them another

such opportunity.

The proclamation of Simla had another purpose--that of announcing

the future policy of the Government, and repudiating those designs of

aggression and aggrandizement which there was too good ground for

imputing to us, and which could not fail to inspire distrust and

suspicion in the minds even of friendly neighbours. On this point

nothing can be added to the admirable exposition of Lord Fitzgerald

in the late debate:--

"But there were other circumstances which compelled the

Governor-General of India; he meant, which made it his duty to

proclaim the motives of the policy of the Government; and why?

--because a different policy had been proclaimed by his predecessor;

and when it became necessary to withdraw from Affghanistan, it was

necessary to show that this was not a retreat. We were compelled to

show that we were not shrinking from setting up a king, because we

could not sustain him there. He said it was the duty of the

Governor-General to make that known to the Indian public. He would

not attempt to shelter Lord Ellenborough in this respect, by

saying--'it was prudent,' or, 'it did no harm:'--he maintained it

was his duty. What had been the language of the late Ministers of the

Crown, in the last session of Parliament? And these debates, as the

noble Earl had well said, 'went forth to India;' the discussions in

that House went forth to the Indian public. He found one Minister of

the Crown saying--'He should like to see the Minister, or the

Governor of India, who would dare to withdraw from the position we

occupied in Affghanistan.' (Hear, hear.) He found another noble lord,

in another place, stating, 'they took credit for the whole of that

measure, and he trusted that at no time would that position in

Affghanistan be abandoned.' These were views of public policy which

went forth to India, and it was not inconvenient nor unjust that

those who administered the government of India on different

principles should proclaim their views. The noble earl opposite,

knew that at that period it was not intended altogether to confine

the operations of the army to the westward of the Indus. It was very

well to say, that it was unwise and impolitic, and calculated to

destroy the unanimity which was so essential to the Government of

India, to issue public information as to the reasons for the

withdrawal of an army, although its advance was heralded by a

declaration on all these points, because the withdrawal of an army

was supposed to terminate the operations; but in the eyes of India

and Asia, if the declaration of the noble earl, dated from Simla on

the same day of the same month of a preceding year, had remained as

a record of British policy after that declaration had been followed

by a campaign, brilliant at its commencement, but as delusive as

brilliant, and terminated by a most awful tragedy, and by the

greatest disaster that ever befell the British forces--was it

unbecoming in a Governor-General to state, that the views and policy

of the Government of India had changed, and that the Government no

longer wished to interfere in the policy of Affghanistan, its motives

for so doing having passed away on finding that the king,

represented to be so popular, was unpopular? But there was another

circumstance which called for Lord Ellenborough's declaration, namely,

the necessity of allaying the apprehensions and fears of other states;

and it was Lord Ellenborough's duty to do this. Had the Sikhs no

apprehensions with respect to our intentions on Lahore? The most

serious apprehensions had been stated by the Durbar of Lahore to our

political agent there, Mr. Clark, and had been represented by him to

the Government of India.--Other states also had entertained

apprehensions of the intentions and motives of the Indian Government,

and he had yet to learn that it was a fault in a Governor-General to

allay these apprehensions of native states, even if no precedent

could be found for such a proceeding. After the policy of the Indian

Government which had been proclaimed, it became Lord Ellenborough's

duty to take the step he had done."

This, however, is the true _gravamen_ of the quarrel of the Whigs

with Lord Ellenborough. He has thrown overboard their aggressive

policy--that policy which Lord Auckland, indeed, had not in words

avowed in India, but which his friends at home had openly declared

and gloried in. It was necessary for Lord Ellenborough, by a frank

declaration of his intentions, to exclude the prevalent

suspicion--nay, the universal belief--of those projects of

encroachment which the Whig Government had countenanced. This was

the unkindest cut of all.

"Ill-weaved ambition! how much art

thou shrunk!"

It was hard that their Affghan laurels--the only wreaths of victory

that the Whigs had ever won--should have already withered on their

brow. It was hard that their disasters should have been retrieved

under the sway of a political opponent. But it was intolerable that

the plans of conquest which they had fondly cherished, and tried to

press upon the country, should be virtually denounced amid the

universal approbation of all good men at home and abroad; that the

solitary achievement of their administration in military affairs,

should be recorded in the page of history, only to be condemned as

an act of injustice, inexcusably undertaken, and incompetently

executed: and relinquished by their successors in the very hour of

triumph, with a wise self-denial which no one will suspect that a

Whig could have ever practised.

The cloven foot has here too plainly been revealed. It is not this

phrase or that procession in particular that has displeased the Whigs.

It is the abandonment of a policy which they dared not proclaim in

India, and which they could not justify in England. They are always

hankering after it still. Mr. Vernon Smith: "Considered it most

absurd for any Governor General to declare publicly that our Indian

empire had reached the limits which nature had assigned to it. Why,

what were the limits which nature had assigned to our Indian empire?

In early days, the Mahratta ditch was said to be its natural limit;

and why was the Sutlej or the Indus to be more the boundary of our

empire than the Himalayas?"

Even Lord John Russell, who _now_ acknowledges the wisdom of

surrendering Affghanistan, declares, in almost so many words, that

his party have shrunk from a general vote of censure because they

could not properly put it, and have chosen this Act as "not the worst,"

but the most convenient to attack. What the other errors of Lord

Ellenborough are, or whether there are any, except the exploded

story of the incivility to Mr. Amos, is nowhere definitely,

discoverable in their discussions, and is not likely for some time

to assume a greater degree of consistency than vague Whig calumnies

and general Whig dissatisfaction. Let them come to something definite,

and see how they will fare. If, as their old friend Lord Brougham

said, "revelling in defeat, and intoxicated with failure," they know

not when they have had enough--if they desire a contest on some other

issue--let them name their day and abide the result.

In conclusion, we would only observe, what a contrast the conduct of

the Whig party towards Lord Ellenborough exhibits to that of their

opponents towards Lord Auckland! The ex Governor-General is not

absent, but here to defend himself; and every one sees how much room

there is for assailing his measures. Their calamitous result would

of itself go far to support the charge of imprudence, or something

worse. But not a word has been said against him that could be avoided;

and even those statements that necessarily reflect upon his

discretion, have been extorted from the Conservative party, in reply

to the attacks which Lord Auckland's friends have made upon his

successor. The English people admire fair play as much as they

appreciate the value of practical benefits. They see the false

pretences on which an absent man has now been assailed by

disappointed opponents; they feel the generosity that has saved his

rival from retaliation. They know the state of Indian affairs when

Lord Ellenborough assumed his office, and they can estimate the

position into which they have now been brought under his vigorous

management. They agree with him in the pacific principles which he

has avowed, and look forward to a continued career of useful services,

in which the resources of that great empire will be more than ever

developed under his control, and the power of the British name

perpetuated by a wise, an upright, and a fearless Administration.