CONVULSIONS IN THE EAST.
Approaches to a Great Tragedy--State of Afghanistan--Position of
Dost Mahomed in 1836--Mission of Captain Burnes to Cabul in
1837--Afghanistan, England, and Russia--Determination of the
Governor-General of India to Restore Shah Soojah to the Afghan
Throne--Garbling of Burnes’s Despatches--Action of the Anglo-Indian
Government against the Russians before Herat--British Invasion of
Afghanistan in 1839--Difficulties, Dangers, and Successes of the
Campaign--Cold Reception of Shah Soojah at Cabul--Operations in the
Khyber Pass--Outbreak of Insurrections against the Restored
Power--Actions with the British--Surrender of Dost
Mahomed--Increased Turmoil among the Afghans--Massacre of November
2nd, 1841--Imbecility of General Elphinstone--Murder of Sir William
Macnaghten--Agreement between the British Authorities and Akbar
Khan--Retreat of the Army of Occupation--Horrors of the March, and
Complete Destruction of the Army--Defence of Jelalabad by Sir
Robert Sale--Operations of Generals Nott, Pollock, and
Sale--Capture of Cabul--Release of the Prisoners, and Close of the
War--Lord Ellenborough and the Gates of Somnauth--Murder of
Stoddart and Conolly in Bokhara--Disturbed State of England in
1842--The Queen’s First Visit to Scotland--Receipt of Good News
from the East--Position of Prince Albert towards the
State--Discretion of his Private Life--Extent of his
Labours--Colonisation in New Zealand and New South Wales.
For some years there had been proceeding in the East a series of events
which, in the early part of 1842, eventuated in one of the most tragical
catastrophes of modern history. To the west of Northern India lies the
independent kingdom of Afghanistan, or Cabul, as it is sometimes called
after the capital city. The country is mountainous, barren, and austere;
the people--to whom some attribute a Jewish origin, but who are
certainly a very mixed race--are courageous, warlike, revengeful,
predatory in their habits, yet not wanting in some manly virtues. They
are Mohammedans of the Sunnite communion, and consequently regard the
Turkish Sultan as the head of the Moslem world; yet their tolerance is
so great that they allow several Persian Shiites to occupy high official
posts, without any restriction on their distinctive rites. Afghanistan
has from time to time been a conquering State. In the fifteenth century,
it planted a dynasty on the throne of Delhi, which lasted until
overthrown by the Mogul Baber in 1526. In the early years of the
eighteenth century, it gave two monarchs to Persia, of which it had in
ancient times formed a part; but the intruders were speedily expelled.
The military genius of the Afghans, however, was not to be long kept
down; and after the founding of the Durani dynasty by Ahmed Khan, in
1747, an immense Afghan Empire was rapidly created, which spread from
Herat into Hindostan, and from the banks of the Oxus to the Arabian
Sea. This dominion broke up early in the present century, and in 1836
the Ameer Dost Mahomed was ruling at Cabul over a territory not very
extensive or important.
This somewhat petty sovereign had at his disposal a revenue of 1,400,000
dollars, and an army of 18,000 men. But his dominions were in a
disturbed state, and, at the same time, he was at war with Lahore in the
east, while, in the west, the Persians had attacked Herat, at that date
ruled by one of the Durani princes. Dost Mahomed was therefore very
desirous of securing the friendship of the British in India. Lord
Auckland, then Governor-General at Calcutta, was disposed to enter into
negotiations with the Ameer, conceiving that English power in the East
was menaced by the intrigues of Russia, Persia, and Afghanistan. He
therefore, in September, 1837, despatched Captain Alexander Burnes to
Cabul, with instructions to discuss certain matters. Unfortunately,
Captain Burnes was not authorised to promise Dost Mahomed the assistance
which he required, to assume a position of independence towards Persia
and Russia. Both these Powers were acting for the advancement of their
own interests; and, although the Ameer had listened to their
suggestions, he told the British envoy that he would much rather
co-operate with England, if he could obtain the terms he needed. Burnes
urged upon the Governor-General of India the policy of guaranteeing the
integrity of the Ameer’s realm, or at least of promising him a subsidy
in case of attack. But Lord Auckland would do neither, while at the same
moment ordering the distracted chieftain to abandon all negotiations
with the rival Powers. The natural consequence was that Dost Mahomed
again leant towards the liberal, though interested, offers of Russia;
but even then he would gladly have considered the proposals of England,
had any been made. The Governor-General, however, preferred to enter
into a treaty with Runjeet Singh and Shah Soojah--the former a leader of
the Sikhs, the latter a descendant of Ahmed Khan, who had once before
ruled in Afghanistan, who had been expelled from the throne, and who was
generally detested by the people. Runjeet Singh was to be maintained at
Peshawur (to which the Afghans considered they had a claim), and Shah
Soojah to be restored to the throne of Cabul with the assistance of an
English army. A more unjustifiable, a more fatal, choice was never made.
In his despatches to Lord Auckland, Captain Burnes repeatedly expressed
a strong opinion against the abandonment of Dost Mahomed; but these
despatches, when published by the British Government long after the
writer’s premature and miserable death, were so shamefully garbled that
they seemed, by implication, to show that Burnes had actually supported
the very policy he strenuously condemned. The fact subsequently came
out, and nothing like a defence--not even a decent palliation--could be
offered. The English people were kept studiously in the dark as to these
manipulations; indeed, they knew very little as to what was passing on
the North-western frontiers of India and beyond. Yet those events were
of the gravest character, and carried with them a train of consequences
which involved the whole of the United Kingdom in a black cloud of
mourning and dismay. For a while, however, matters seemed to go very
well. The Persian attack on Herat--which was in truth a Russian attack
in disguise--had been held in check by the courage of the garrison, led,
instructed, and inspirited by the skill and heroism of a young officer,
named Eldred Pottinger, who was staying there at the time. Nevertheless,
the place
[Illustration: ELDRED POTTINGER AT HERAT. (_See p. 113._)]
would not have been saved but for the action of the Anglo-Indian
Government, which in 1838 sent a naval squadron to the Persian Gulf, and
gave the Shah to understand that, if he carried his operations any
farther, his persistence would be regarded as a proof of hostility to
England. This had the desired effect. The blockade of Herat was
abandoned, and the position was saved. The discomfiture of the Persians
was a triumph effected without bloodshed, and really valuable in its
results. Herat has always been regarded as the key of India, and justly
so, when we consider that all the great roads from the west converge
within its territory, and that it is capable of producing whatever an
army may require.
Captain Burnes left Cabul on the 26th of April, 1838, and met Lord
Auckland at Simla. On the 1st of October in the same year, a manifesto
was issued by the Governor-General, which was virtually a declaration of
war against Dost Mahomed. Mr. (afterwards Sir William) Macnaghten,
Secretary to the Government of India, was appointed Minister at the
court of Shah Soojah, before any such court existed; and he was to be
helped in his operations by Sir Alexander Burnes, for the discredited
envoy had now been made a knight. Unanticipated alterations of plan,
consequent on the bad faith of Runjeet Singh, who at the last moment
refused to allow a passage through his dominions, as he had promised,
delayed the starting of the expedition, which did not get on its way
until the late winter of 1839. The army, which was in three divisions,
consisted of British troops, Afghans, and Sikhs; and it was encumbered
with a large number of camp-followers and baggage-animals. The routes
pursued were beset by all those difficulties which belong to a
mountainous and rocky land. Numbers of men and camels were lost; the
soldiers were disheartened by fatigue, and by the gloom of their
surroundings; food began to fail; the supplies which were expected at
Quetta, beyond the further end of the Bolan Pass, were not forthcoming;
and the two principal divisions of the invading force, which had now
effected their junction, pushed forward, in a half-famished state, and
by a long and difficult defile, to Candahar, which was reached on the
25th of April. The city surrendered without a blow; but the army was now
greatly reduced in numbers, and could not reckon more than 10,400
fighting men. Shah Soojah was proclaimed at Candahar, and Sir John
Keane, who had command of the whole invading force, while attached more
particularly to the Bombay column, then set out for Ghizni, two hundred
and thirty miles distant from Candahar, which was itself more than a
thousand miles from the points of departure.
Ghizni offered a determined resistance, but was taken by storm on the
23rd of July, when the son of Dost Mahomed, Gholam Hyder Khan, who held
the command, was captured. Sir John Keane next pushed on to Cabul, where
the fall of Ghizni had produced a feeling of such extreme consternation
that the Ameer found himself unable to act against the enemy, and
therefore fled with a few attendants to the mountain solitudes of the
Hindoo Koosh, on the north-eastern boundary of Afghanistan. The English
army, accompanied by Shah Soojah, entered Cabul on the 7th of August;
but the demeanour of the people was cold, and the British were detested
as strangers, as conquerors, and as Christians. On September 3rd, the
invaders were joined by the third division, consisting for the most part
of Afghans and Sikhs, under the orders of Colonel Wade, who had taken
the fort of Ali Musjid (situated in a narrow part of the Khyber Pass)
and the city of Jelalabad. It now seemed as if the Afghans were entirely
subdued, and, in its premature satisfaction, the British Government
showered honours on the persons principally concerned. Lord Auckland was
made an Earl; Sir John Keane a Baron, with a pension of £2,000; and Mr.
Macnaghten a Baronet. Other officials received inferior distinctions,
and Shah Soojah created an Order of the Durani Empire, the insignia of
which were bestowed on many English officers. Nevertheless, the people
were thoroughly discontented, and surveyed with a sullen eye the
military reviews and splendid ceremonials which it was hoped would
reconcile them to the restored rule of Shah Soojah. They were _not_
reconciled, for the new sovereign was regarded as the mere creature of
the British authorities, whose pensioner he had been for many years, and
by whom he was now forcibly imposed on a reluctant people, who had never
invited his return.
The new settlement was believed to be so entirely safe that many of our
troops were sent back long before the close of 1839, and the occupying
force then consisted of 8,000 men, Europeans and Sepoys. As if inspired
by some evil fate, the English officers wrote to India for their wives
and children. In the spring of 1840, the British and Sepoy regiments
were removed from the Bala Hissar (a fortified palace of great
strength), and stationed in cantonments on the neighbouring plain, where
they had scarcely any protection against the sudden attack of an enemy.
These attacks speedily came. The country began to seethe with
insurrection. British outposts were assailed, and, as the summer
advanced, the fighting became serious. Dost Mahomed was again in arms,
moving about rapidly from place to place, and sometimes gaining the
advantage. In one of these encounters, he discomfited a British force
under Sir Robert Sale, by whom he was attacked, on the 2nd of November,
in the Purwandurrah valley. The disaster was chiefly owing to the
misconduct of some Hindoo cavalry, who precipitately retreated, and
sought shelter among the English guns. Everything was thrown into
confusion, and Sale’s force was only just able to cut its way back to
Cabul. It might reasonably have been supposed that, after this brilliant
success, Dost Mahomed (whose heroism and capacity have been warmly
acknowledged by English writers) would have advanced with all his
warriors to the capital. But he felt his inability to cope with such a
power as England, and on the following day he rode up to the quarters of
Sir William Macnaghten, introduced himself as the deposed Ameer, and
delivered up his sword. When the British Minister had recovered from his
surprise, he returned the sword, treated his prisoner with due honour,
and, on the 12th of November, sent him to India under a strong escort.
Again, apparently, had Fortune smiled upon the English cause.
But the insurrection against the authority of Shah Soojah still
continued with unabated violence. In spite of this obvious danger,
however, the British army of occupation was still further reduced in
1841, and the pension to native chiefs for abstaining from plunder was
considerably lessened. The peril increased with every day; yet only a
few of the military or civil officers could perceive its existence. Sir
William Macnaghten and Sir Alexander Burnes appear to have been
perfectly contented with the existing state of things; though Sir Robert
Sale, having been sent to quell an insurrection of the Ghiljies, found
his communications with Cabul seriously threatened, and though Major
Pottinger (Eldred Pottinger, the defender of Herat) warned Sir William
of the danger by which he was menaced. Sir John Keane having returned
to England, the chief command of the British forces devolved on Sir
Willoughby Cotton, who had previously led the Bengal column. Cotton was
a man of approved ability, but
[Illustration: FORT ALI MUSJID IN THE KHYBER PASS.]
he was soon afterwards superseded by General Elphinstone--an old and
infirm officer, whose nerves were quite unfitted to sustain the shock by
which they were soon to be entirely shattered. Sir William Macnaghten
having been appointed to the Governorship of Bombay, his position as
British Minister at Cabul was conferred on Sir Alexander Burnes; but,
owing to the disturbed state of the country, the former was unable to
leave the Afghan capital, and consequently fell in the massacre which
shortly afterwards broke out. Cabul burst into a flame of excitement on
the morning of November 2nd--the very day after that on which Burnes had
assumed his new functions, and when he congratulated Macnaghten on
leaving Afghanistan in a state of “profound tranquillity.” The mob
surrounded the residence of Burnes, threatened him and his brother, and
shot his military secretary, Lieutenant Broadfoot. One of the
insurgents, who
[Illustration: SIR ROBERT AND LADY SALE.]
had sworn by the Koran that he would escort the brothers in safety to
the fort, treacherously betrayed them to the rioters, by whom they were
slain with knives. All the other inhabitants of the house, including
women and children, were also murdered, and the edifice itself was burnt
to ashes. General Elphinstone, who was in the cantonments with his
troops, seems to have been utterly prostrated by the news, nor were any
of his officers better prepared for the emergency. No steps were taken
against the insurgents, and Elphinstone contented himself with saying
that they must wait until the morning, and then see what could be done.
All he did when the morning came was to send urgent messages to Sir
Robert Sale, who was then on his way to Jelalabad, to proceed as rapidly
as possible to Cabul. Sir Robert, however, thought it a matter of such
paramount importance to keep open the communications with India, that
he pursued his way to Jelalabad, and fortunately so, as was proved by
after events. General Nott despatched three regiments to Candahar, in
the hope of relieving the Cabul garrison; but the difficulties of the
way and the severity of the weather were so great that they turned back,
after accomplishing a portion of the distance. The cantonments at Cabul
were now commanded by two guns, which the Afghans had planted on a
neighbouring hill; and the British troops failed in an attempt to break
out into the open country. The supplies of food ran short, and
ultimately failed altogether; so that an agreement of some kind became
an absolute necessity. The last act of Sir William Macnaghten was to
open negotiations with the Afghan chiefs; but on the 23rd of December--a
few days later--he was treacherously murdered by Akbar Khan, the eldest
son of Dost Mahomed, who was now the leader of the insurrection. The two
had entered into some rather obscure negotiations for making Akbar the
Vizier and virtual master of Shah Soojah, and putting down the other
chiefs. An interview was arranged for discussing this project; but a
misunderstanding arose, and Macnaghten was shot by Akbar Khan, who
afterwards, however, expressed great remorse for the deed. Shah Soojah
appears to have acted with energy and good faith; but at the very
commencement of the revolt his troops were overpowered by superior
numbers, and he could now do nothing. The action of the malcontents was
characterised by the utmost treachery. They had undertaken to furnish
supplies, if the forts which guarded the cantonments were placed in
their hands. The terms were accepted, but no food was forthcoming, while
the possession of the forts by the enemy placed the cantonments wholly
at his mercy. Matters therefore proceeded from bad to worse, and at
length it was agreed that all the guns, excepting six, together with all
the treasure, should be relinquished; that four officers should be put
into the hands of the chiefs as hostages; and that 40,000 rupees, in
bills drawn upon India, to be negotiated on the spot by some Hindoo
bankers, should be paid to the Afghans. In exchange for these
concessions, Akbar Khan promised to conduct the English regiments to
Jelalabad; but he had not the power, even if he had the will, to make
good his words. Our share of the agreement was honourably carried out to
the minutest tittle; that of the Afghans was murderously broken.
The cantonments were quitted by the British troops on the 6th of
January, 1842. The troops not unnaturally murmured at having to give up
the guns and ammunition; but there was no help for it, and the doomed
regiments filed out towards the desert in a condition little capable of
successful defence against attack. The number of fighting men was not
more than 4,500 (chiefly Asiatics); but they were accompanied by 12,000
camp-followers, including the wives and children of the officers. An
inclement winter, with deep snow encumbering all the roads, added to the
horrors of the time, and the Ghiljies began to attack the rear-guard
immediately it had got clear of the cantonments. The fugitives entered
the Khoord-Cabul Pass on the 8th of January, 1842, and attacks now
became frequent and unsparing. The Afghans were posted on the
surrounding crags, and the English officers and troops began to fall
rapidly. Many of the women were carried away; many of the children were
killed. Fatigue, cold, and deprivation slew as many as the bullets of
the lurking foe. Some of our men became mutinous, and intoxicated
themselves with the stores of brandy which they had violently seized.
Ere long, all military discipline was lost. The men thought only of
themselves, and, disregarding the commands of their officers, hurried on
towards Jelalabad as fast as horses, camels, or their own legs, could
carry them. Several were frozen every night by the intense cold; and
those who woke in the morning, woke simply to a prospect of despair. One
gloomy and rugged pass succeeded another; but the relentless Afghans
were stationed at every point, and their matchlocks brought down the
scattered fugitives with unresting activity. More than once, Akbar Khan
entered into communication with the English officers, and, upon
receiving further hostages, made promises of assistance which were not
fulfilled. Occasionally the British troops and the Sepoys made a
desperate stand, and for a moment drove back their assailants; but, as
day succeeded day, their numbers became fewer, and the spirit of
resistance died within them. On the 12th and 13th of January, the force
was reduced to a mere fragment; but, in proportion to the smallness of
their numbers, the men seemed to recover the habits of discipline they
had lost, and, standing close together, entered into hand-to-hand
conflicts with the Afghans, in which the latter suffered severely. The
position, however, was absolutely hopeless, and, in the course of
January 13th, thirty soldiers--all who were now left, though the
camp-followers still numbered two or three hundred--took up their
station on the slopes of a hill, and fought with wonderful resolution
until overpowered and slain. Setting aside the hostages, all were now
exterminated--English, Sepoys, and camp-followers; all, with the
exception of one man, who, wounded, and in a state approaching
exhaustion, rode up to the walls of Jelalabad on that fatal 13th of
January, still holding in his nerveless grasp a broken and unavailing
sword. The survivor of the great catastrophe was Dr. Brydon, one of the
medical officers, who had somehow managed to escape the massacre, and
who conveyed intelligence of what had happened to General Sale and his
gallant companions, then holding a position which in itself was
desperate.
On one of the occasions when Akbar Khan held parley with the fugitives,
he suggested that the ladies and children should be given up to him, and
he undertook to convey them in safety to Peshawur. These terms were
accepted, with the single modification that the husbands of the married
ladies should accompany their wives. As the women and children could not
have escaped massacre, or death from cold and fatigue, had they remained
with the army, the arrangement was a wise one, as it offered them at
least a chance of life. They were treated with some consideration, and
ultimately rescued during the military operations of a later period. Two
days later--namely, on the 11th of January--Akbar Khan again entered
into negotiations with the English officers, and demanded that General
Elphinstone, Brigadier Shelton, and Captain Johnson, should be given up
to him as additional hostages. This was done, and the chief commander of
the British forces went into captivity with his two subordinates. The
treaty concluded by General Elphinstone and Akbar Khan, before the
former quitted Cabul, contained an article stipulating that the English
force at Jelalabad should march for Peshawur before the Cabul army
arrived, and should not delay on the road. Information of this agreement
was conveyed to Jelalabad by a band of horsemen, who, under cover of a
flag of truce, presented
[Illustration: THE REMNANT OF AN ARMY: ARRIVAL OF DR. BRYDON AT
JELALABAD. (_See p. 119._)
(_Sketch of the Picture by Lady Butler._)]
themselves before the gates. They bore with them a despatch from General
Elphinstone, ordering Sir Robert Sale to evacuate the country without
delay. Sale was placed in a very difficult position; for Elphinstone was
his superior officer, and yet to obey his orders, as by strict military
duty he was bound to do, might entail the destruction of his whole
force. He accordingly summoned a council of war, at which it was
formally resolved that to obey such an order would be imprudent. The
position, therefore, was held with splendid gallantry. The ruined
fortifications had already been reconstructed, and every effort was now
made to supply the town with food and fuel. It was known that an army
under General Pollock was hastening to the relief of the garrison; but
some time must elapse ere it could arrive, and in the meanwhile the
situation was fraught with peril. Akbar Khan, with a numerous army, had
appeared before the walls; but Sale determined to hold out to the last.
On the 19th of January, an earthquake shook the defences of the town
into ruins; and had
[Illustration: DOST MAHOMED.]
Akbar immediately assaulted the place, it is almost certain that he
would have taken it. Probably, the unexpected convulsion inspired him
with awe, and, as the English at once set to work to repair the damage
that had been done, they were soon in a position to resist attack. In
the early part of April, food and ammunition began to fail, and the
spirited commander determined on active operations. On the 7th of the
month the Afghans were attacked and driven off. With the remnant of his
disheartened army, Akbar fled towards Cabul, leaving in our hands a vast
amount of stores. Pollock was with difficulty forcing his way through
the Khyber Pass; on the 16th of April he arrived at Jelalabad; at the
same time, General Nott and Major (afterwards Sir Henry) Rawlinson were
holding Candahar; but Colonel Palmer, after a gallant defence, was
forced to surrender Ghizni to the Afghans. In the same month which
witnessed the
[Illustration: AKBAR KHAN.]
relief of Jelalabad, Shah Soojah was assassinated by the adherents of
his elder brother--a man, like himself, far advanced in years. The
position of Nott at Candahar was precarious, but, when at length
relieved, he was able to join Sale and Pollock in an advance on Cabul,
where they resolved to avenge the injuries of their countrymen. The
chief command was in the hands of Nott, who showed himself a thoroughly
capable officer. His first proceeding was to retake Ghizni, and on the
17th of September all three divisions effected their junction at Cabul.
It is lamentable to be obliged to add that the city was pillaged by our
infuriated soldiers, though perhaps not with the sanction of their
commanders, and that needless destruction and slaughter marked the path
of the avenging army.
The English prisoners, including the women and children, had during
their captivity been frequently moved about from place to place, often
in the most terrible extremities of weather, and under circumstances of
great hardship; but when the British army arrived at Cabul, they were on
their way back to that city. General Elphinstone had died on the 23rd
of April; the other members of the party were alive and well. On the
12th of October, the invaders left Cabul, and again, as on the occasion
of their advance, passed through defiles still rendered terrible by the
whitening bones of their comrades. The greater part of Jelalabad was
destroyed, together with the fortifications; Ali Musjid, in the Khyber
Pass, was blown into the air; and Afghanistan was entirely evacuated by
our troops before the close of 1842. The policy of Lord Auckland was now
completely reversed by his successor, Lord Ellenborough, whose term of
office had commenced on the 28th of February. In announcing the
withdrawal of the British forces from Afghanistan (which he did in a
proclamation dated from Simla on the 1st of October), Lord Ellenborough
observed that “to force a sovereign upon a reluctant people would be as
inconsistent with the policy as it is with the principles of the British
Government.” That, no doubt, was the only just position to assume; but
it should have been assumed three or four years earlier, and England
would then have been spared one of the greatest and most humiliating
disasters in the long course of her history. Our interposition had
entailed infinite misery on ourselves and on the Afghans, and it had
been absolutely unproductive of any good whatever. The country which we
had taken under our protection, and from which we had been ignominiously
expelled, was now in a state of anarchy, and, as that anarchy was of our
own creation, it behoved us to do something towards the restoration of
order. Dost Mahomed was set at liberty by the Anglo-Indian Government;
and he whom we had refused to recognise in 1838, whom we had driven
forth in 1839, and whom we received as a prisoner in 1840, was in 1843
restored to the throne which he seems to have had a legitimate claim to
fill. His reign was thus divided into two parts, and the division is
marked by a wide river of human blood.
After a tragedy, it was formerly the custom to play a farce. One might
almost suppose that the principle involved in this theatrical usage had
influenced the mind of Lord Ellenborough in a certain exploit which he
performed, in a very demonstrative spirit, shortly after the conclusion
of the Afghan war. When Sultan Mahmoud took the Hindoo city of Somnauth,
in 1025, he carried away with him the gates of the vast temple dedicated
to the god Soma, the idols of which he had shattered and cast down.
These trophies were taken to the Imperial city of Ghizni, from which
Mahmoud ruled his wide possessions; and there they had remained, or
something like them had been preserved, during a period of more than
eight hundred years. Lord Ellenborough was a man of great ability, but
of somewhat grandiose and theatrical tastes, even in the management of
practical affairs. He therefore determined to bring back the so-called
Gates of Somnauth to the place whence they had been originally removed.
The act would have been foolish enough, even had the genuineness of the
gates been entirely beyond dispute, which was very far from the case.
The Mohammedans could not but have felt insulted by the restoration of
anything connected with a gross idolatry, formerly destroyed by one of
the most illustrious of Moslem sovereigns; while the Hindoos were simply
reminded of their ancient disgrace and humiliation. These
considerations, however, were absent from the mind of Lord Ellenborough,
or disregarded by him; and on the 16th of November, 1842, he issued a
sonorous proclamation to all the princes, chiefs, and people of India.
“My brothers and my friends,” he said, “our victorious army bears the
gates of the Temple of Somnauth in triumph from Afghanistan, and the
despoiled tomb of Sultan Mahmoud looks upon the ruins of Ghizni. The
insult of eight hundred years is at last avenged. The gates of the
Temple of Somnauth, so long the memorial of your humiliation, are become
the proudest record of your national glory,--the proof of your
superiority in arms over the nations beyond the Indus. To you, princes
and chiefs of Sirhind, of Rajwarra, of Malwa and Guzerat, I shall commit
this glorious trophy of successful war. You will yourselves, with all
honour, transmit the gates of sandal-wood through your respective
territories to the restored Temple of Somnauth.” On the 14th of January,
1843, the gates were carried into Delhi in state, under a canopy of
crimson and gold; but the proceedings afterwards created great annoyance
in England, and were made the subject of animated Parliamentary debates.
Again we must revert to tragedy, for it is impossible to pass over, in
the events of this period, some terrible circumstances which occurred in
Bokhara, and of which two of our own countrymen were the victims.
Colonel Stoddart had been sent a few years previously to the Persian
camp before Herat, to insist that Persia must abandon the siege of that
important position. Thence he proceeded on some official business to
Bokhara, where, after a time, the Ameer became suspicious of his
designs, and threw him into prison. At a later date, Captain Arthur
Conolly was sent into the same country, but, after making a vain attempt
to procure the liberation of Stoddart, was himself confined in a
subterranean dungeon, where he and his fellow-sufferer were kept in
complete darkness, without being allowed to change their clothes, or to
wash themselves, and with a very insufficient supply of food, which was
let down to them once in four or five days. The Ameer suspected the two
strangers of being spies in the employment of his enemies, and their
case was considerably prejudiced by the refusal of the Indian and Home
Governments to recognise the captives as official agents. Conolly had in
the first instance gone to Khokand, where he was engaged in endeavouring
to effect the release of slaves; but Lord Ellenborough declared that he
had no knowledge of his mission to that country having been authorised,
and he added that that unfortunate officer had been expressly instructed
by the President of the Board of Control not to go to Khokand, so that,
it was remarked, he in all probability owed his misfortunes to the
direct transgression of those orders. How far these statements are to be
accepted as absolute truth, appears somewhat doubtful; but at any rate
the adoption of such a tone was ill calculated to obtain the release of
the prisoners from a ferocious tyrant like the Ameer of Bokhara.
Appeals, it is true, were made to his good feelings; but unfortunately
he did not possess any, and the condition of the prisoners became
progressively worse. Under these circumstances, Dr. Wolff, a German Jew
who had been converted to Christianity, courageously undertook an
expedition to Bokhara, in the hope of delivering the prisoners. On
arriving in that country, however, he heard they had already been put to
death. The
[Illustration: HOLYROOD PALACE, EDINBURGH.]
double execution seems to have been in the summer of 1843, some time
before Dr. Wolff even set out on his expedition. The heroic missionary
was himself imprisoned for a considerable time, but at length obtained
his release, and came to England in 1845, when he was enthusiastically
received by all who had watched his fortunes with mingled admiration and
alarm.
While Afghanistan was distracted by a vengeful war, the general state of
England continued even worse than in the earlier part of the year.
Parliament was prorogued on the 12th of August, 1842, by the Queen in
person, and in the Speech from the Throne her Majesty expressed a hope
that the members of the two Houses “would do their utmost to encourage,
by example and active exertions, that spirit of order and submission to
the law without which there
[Illustration: THE QUEEN’S ENTRY INTO EDINBURGH. (_See p. 127._)]
can be no enjoyment of the fruits of peaceful industry, and no advance
in the career of social improvement.” Sedition was indeed becoming more
ripe every day. In the manufacturing towns, mills were violently entered
by disorderly mobs, their machinery was destroyed, and those who were
willing to work were compelled to abandon their labours. Manchester was
in so disturbed a state that a regiment of the Guards was despatched
thither to overawe the malcontents; and in many of the northern towns
collisions, attended by bloodshed and loss of life, occurred from time
to time. The demand of the workpeople was for increase of wages; but
political ideas also were mixed up with the purely social question. The
Chartists joined the discontented artisans, and for a while the
Government was seriously alarmed. But the arrest of the leaders struck
terror into the rest, and, as the autumn advanced, the worst of the
danger was at an end. In the west of Scotland, however, disturbances
continued for some time longer; yet it was at this period that the Queen
and Prince Albert paid their first visit to the Northern Kingdom.
It had been intended by the Royal couple to visit Belgium in the autumn
of 1842, to meet there some members of the family of Louis Philippe.
This design, however, was frustrated by the unhappy death of the Duke of
Orleans, who was killed by an accident on the 13th of July. The Duke was
the favourite brother of the Queen of the Belgians, and the sad event
threw both Courts into the deepest mourning. Her Majesty and Prince
Albert were profoundly afflicted by the casualty, and, being unable to
visit Belgium, resolved to turn their faces towards Scotland.
Notwithstanding the turbulence of the Scottish working classes in the
manufacturing cities, the reception given to the Queen and her husband
was of the most enthusiastic character, and the journey of 1842 became a
precedent for many later years. The Royal yacht was accompanied by a
squadron of nine vessels, in addition to which were the Trinity House
steamer and a packet. The voyage was slow and tedious, and her Majesty
suffered a good deal from the roughness of the sea. She was much struck
by the first appearance of the Scottish coast, which she describes as
“dark, rocky, bold, and wild.” At half-past six on the evening of August
31st, they passed St. Abb’s Head, and her Majesty records that “numbers
of fishing boats (in one of which was a piper playing), and steamers
full of people, came out to meet us, and on board of one large steamer
they danced a reel to a band. It was a beautiful evening, calm, with a
fine sunset, and the air so pure.”[14] As the Royal yacht proceeded up
the Firth of Forth under the gathering darkness, the neighbouring
heights were seen to be lighted with beacon-fires, to which the yacht
responded by sending up rockets and burning blue lights. The Royal party
landed at Leith on the 1st of September, and drove in a barouche to
Edinburgh, with which both the Queen and Prince Albert were greatly
pleased. The various historical monuments and buildings in the Scottish
capital, and the objects of interest in the neighbourhood, proved
sources of great delight to the distinguished visitors; and Prince
Albert, writing to the Duchess of Saxe-Gotha on the 18th of September,
shortly after the return to Windsor, says:--“Scotland has made a most
favourable impression upon us both. The country is full of beauty, of a
severe and grand character; perfect for sport, and the air remarkably
pure and light in comparison with what we have here. The people are more
natural, and marked by that honesty and sympathy which always
distinguish the inhabitants of mountainous countries who live away from
towns. There is, moreover, no country where historical traditions are
preserved with such fidelity, or to the same extent.” Although the stay
of the Royal visitors was not very long, they entered the Highlands, and
at every point were received with the warmth which Scotsmen are not slow
to exhibit when their national pride is delicately touched.
When the Queen first entered Edinburgh, there had been a slight mistake,
which occasioned some inconvenience. It was expected that her Majesty
would be received by the Lord Provost and magistrates of the city; but,
owing to a misconception as to the hour of landing, they were not there.
To make up for the disappointment thus occasioned, the Queen re-entered
the city on the 3rd of September, when she was received in state by the
authorities. The route, which was crowded with sight-seers, was from
Holyrood, up the Canongate and High Street, to the Castle, and then by
the Earthen Mound and Princes Street to Dalmeny Park, the seat of the
Earl of Rosebery. On the same day, the foundation-stone of Victoria
Hall, designed for the use of the General Assembly of the Kirk, was laid
in honour of her Majesty’s visit; and on later days the seats of some of
the Scottish nobility were visited by the Royal party, when a great deal
was seen of the Highland clans and their feudal usages. The Queen sailed
from Granton Pier on the 15th of September, and a letter was addressed
to the Lord Advocate by the Earl of Aberdeen, in which the latter was
instructed to say:--“The Queen will leave Scotland with a feeling of
regret that her visit on the present occasion could not be farther
prolonged. Her Majesty fully expected to witness the loyalty and
attachment of her Scottish subjects; but the devotion and enthusiasm
evinced in every quarter, and by all ranks, have produced an impression
on the mind of her Majesty which can never be effaced.” The journey was
in many respects a memorable one; and shortly after the return of her
Majesty and the Prince, they received intelligence of the fall of Ghizni
and Cabul, of the rescue of the prisoners in Afghanistan, and of the
conclusion of peace with China. The news reached them on the 23rd of
November at Walmer Castle, which had been placed at their disposal by
the Duke of Wellington. It was the desire of the Queen that a Chinese
and also an Afghan medal should be struck, and distributed throughout
the armies. Lord Ellenborough however, had already, though without due
authority, issued medals to the Indian army, and all that her Majesty
could now do was to confer honours on the combatants in China.
The interest of Prince Albert in English politics continued to increase
with every year, and the Queen leant proportionately on his judgment for
direction in affairs of State. The Prince never obtruded his advice, yet
it was none the less a subtle influence, pervading the mind of his
consort, and operating for good in many ways. The Ministry of Sir Robert
Peel was even more inclined than that of Lord Melbourne to admit this
influence; and as early as 1842 suggestions were made that, in the event
of the Duke of Wellington’s death, the office of Commander-in-Chief
should be conferred upon the Prince. Baron Stockmar, whose judgment was
frequently appealed to on such matters, both by the Royal Family and the
Government, was consulted on this subject; but the project met with his
entire disapproval. It was one of many instances showing the good sense
possessed by that devoted friend of the Prince and of her Majesty. The
occupation of such a post by a foreigner would not unreasonably have
offended the susceptibilities of the English nation. The Prince himself
saw the wisdom of the Baron’s advice, though it would seem that there
was occasionally a little sensitiveness in his own mind as to the light
in which he was regarded by Englishmen generally. His secretary, Mr.
Anson, has recorded that one day, about this period, the Prince, in
reading Hallam’s “Constitutional History,” copied out and sent to him a
passage concerning William III., which runs:--“The demeanour of William,
always cold, and sometimes harsh, _his foreign origin_ (a sort _of crime
in English eyes_), etc., conspired to keep alive this disaffection.” In
talking over this matter with the Prince, Mr. Anson observed that a
laudable and natural jealousy of foreigners prevailed in the minds of
Englishmen, but that he did not think any such feeling existed towards
the Prince himself. His Royal Highness fully admitted this view, and
acknowledged the kindness with which he had been received in England.
Yet it is difficult to understand why he should have made so pointed an
extract, unless he had thought that it contained, by reflection, some
kind of reference to his own case.
In one respect especially, the example of Prince Albert was of the
greatest value to the whole nation. He maintained a high character for
honour and purity in the Court, and thence, by a species of moral
contagion of the better kind, throughout the circles with which he was
immediately connected. From the very commencement of his career in
England, he determined, not merely that his actions should be free from
reproach, but that his whole conduct should be so strictly governed as
to render reproach impossible. This noble resolve has been well
described by General Grey, who, in his interesting work on the early
life of the Prince, writes:--“He imposed a degree of restraint and
self-denial upon his own movements which could not but have been
irksome, had he not been sustained by a sense of the advantage which the
Throne would derive from it. He denied himself the pleasure--which, to
one so fond as he was of personally watching and inspecting every
improvement that was in progress, would have been very great--of walking
at will about the town. Wherever he went, whether in a carriage or on
horseback, he was accompanied by his equerry. He paid no visits in
general society. His visits were to the studio of the artist, to museums
of art or science, to institutions for good and benevolent purposes.
Wherever a visit from him, or his presence, could tend to advance the
real good of the people, there his horses might be seen waiting; never
at the door of mere
[Illustration: LORD JOHN RUSSELL. (_From the Statue by Sir J. E. Boehm,
R.A._)]
fashion.”[15] To this testimony may be added that of her Majesty, who
has recorded that he would frequently return to luncheon at a great
pace, and would always come through the Queen’s dressing-room, where she
generally was at that time, with that bright, loving smile with which he
ever greeted her; telling where he had been--what new buildings he had
seen--what studios, &c., he had visited. Riding for mere riding’s sake
he disliked, and said, “It bores me so!”
By this date his time was fully occupied, for he had undertaken many
duties, and was obliged to see many people. In the autumn of 1842 he
undertook some of the duties of the Privy Purse, which until then had
been discharged by the Baroness Lehzen; and it was about this time that
he began to give serious attention to that reorganisation of the Royal
Household which has already been described. The demands upon him had
indeed become so incessant that he was often obliged to sacrifice his
hasty rides. In the December of the same year her Majesty writes to
Baron Stockmar to the effect that measures should be taken “to prevent
his being besieged in London by so many unnecessary people. His health
is so invaluable, not only to me (to whom he is more than all-in-all),
but to this whole country, that we must do our duty, and manage that he
is not so overwhelmed with people.” The Prince was in fact a working man
in the truest sense of the word. His life was one of almost incessant
toil, and the pleasures with which he lightened and relieved it were
those of an intellectual inquirer, who could be satisfied with nothing
that was frivolous or base.
In the existing distress at this period of our history, much attention
was given to colonisation. On the 28th of April, a meeting was held in
London under the Presidency of the Archbishop of Canterbury, with a view
to raising funds for sending out Bishops to our distant possessions, and
a large sum of money was obtained for that purpose. On the same day the
preliminary expedition of the second colony to New Zealand sailed under
the command of Captain Wakefield, and the colony itself was to be formed
on the principle laid down by Mr. Edward Gibbon Wakefield, which
provided that the land-produce fund should be applied to the purpose of
obtaining labour. Scarcely anything was known of New Zealand until
1769-70, when it was circumnavigated by Captain Cook, and found to be
insular, and not continental, as had been supposed. Very little was done
in the way of colonisation until 1839, when a New Zealand Company was
established, and the town of Wellington was founded. On the 13th of
February, 1841, a dinner was given to Lord John Russell, then Colonial
Secretary, to celebrate the foundation of England’s most recent colony;
and in subsequent years the settlement made excellent progress, though
often exposed to attack from the Maories. In 1842 a law received the
Royal Assent conferring a representative Government on New South Wales;
and, from this time forward, the colonies of Great Britain wisely
received from the Home Administration and Legislature a greater amount
of attention than had been previously bestowed.