Transcriber's Note:
Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document have
been preserved. Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.
In the caption to the illustration facing page 370, KOLENGSOO
should possibly be KULANGSU.
THE ENGLISHMAN IN CHINA
CHAP. XXIII.: Tsze-kung asked, saying, "Is there one word which may
serve as a rule of practice for all one's life?" The Master said, "Is
not RECIPROCITY such a word? What you do not want done to yourself, do
not do to others."
[Illustration: Mr Alcock, at the age of 34.
from a drawing by L. A. de Fabeck, 1843.
Walker & Cockerell ph. sc.]
THE ENGLISHMAN IN CHINA
DURING THE VICTORIAN ERA
AS ILLUSTRATED IN
THE CAREER OF
SIR RUTHERFORD ALCOCK, K.C.B., D.C.L.
MANY YEARS CONSUL AND MINISTER IN
CHINA AND JAPAN
BY
ALEXANDER MICHIE
AUTHOR OF
'THE SIBERIAN OVERLAND ROUTE,' 'MISSIONARIES
IN CHINA,' ETC.
VOL. I.
WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS
EDINBURGH AND LONDON
MDCCCC
_All Rights reserved_
PREFACE.
Reminiscences of the Far East called up by the death of Sir Rutherford
Alcock in November 1897 prompted the writer to send a contribution on
the subject to 'Blackwood's Magazine.' Being appreciated by the
family, the article suggested to them some more substantial memorial
of the deceased statesman, a scheme with which the writer fell in the
more readily that it seemed to harmonise with the task which friends
had been already urging upon him--that of writing some account of
occurrences in the Far East during his own residence there. For there
was no other name round which these events could be so consistently
grouped during the thirty years when British policy was a power in
that part of the world. As Consul and Minister Alcock was so
interwoven with the history of the period that neither the life of the
man nor the times in which he lived could be treated apart. And the
personal element renders his connection with Far Eastern affairs
particularly instructive, for, combining the highest executive
qualities with a philosophic grasp of the problems with which he had
to deal, he at the same time possessed the faculty of exposition,
whereby the vital relation between the theoretical and the practical
sides of Far Eastern politics was made plain. The student may thus
draw his lessons equally from the actions and the reflections of this
great official.
The life history of Sir Rutherford Alcock is that of the progressive
development of a sterling character making in all circumstances the
most of itself, self-reliant, self-supporting, without friends or
fortune, without interest or advantage of any kind whatsoever. From
first to last the record is clear, without sediment or anything
requiring to be veiled or extenuated. Every achievement, great or
small, is stamped with the hall-mark of duty, of unfaltering devotion
to the service of the nation and to the interests of humanity.
A copious and facile writer, he has left singularly little in the way
of personal history. The only journal he seems ever to have kept was
consigned by him to oblivion, a few early dates and remarks having
alone been rescued. When in recent years he was approached by friends
on the subject of auto-biography, he was wont to reply, "My life is in
my work; by that I am content to be remembered." We must needs
therefore take him at his word and judge by the fruit what was the
nature of the tree.
In the following work the reader may trace in more or less continuous
outline the stages by which the present relation between China and
foreign nations has been reached. In the earlier portion the course of
events indicated is comparatively simple, being confined to
Anglo-Chinese developing into Anglo-Franco-Chinese relations. In the
latter portion, corresponding roughly with the second volume, the
stream becomes subdivided into many collateral branches, as all the
Western nations and Japan, with their separate interests, came to
claim their share, each in its own way, of the intercourse with China.
It is hoped that the data submitted to the reader will enable him to
draw such conclusions as to past transactions as may furnish a basis
for estimating future probabilities.
The scope of the work being restricted to the points of contact
between China and the rest of the world, nothing recondite is
attempted, still less is any enigma solved. It is the belief of the
author that the so-called Chinese mystery has been a source of
needless mystification; that the relation between China and the outer
world was intrinsically simple; and that to have worked from the basis
of their resemblances to the rest of humanity would have been a
shorter way to an amicable understanding with the Chinese than the
crude attempt to accommodate Western procedure to the uncomprehended
differences which divided them. It needed no mastery of their
sociology to keep the Chinese strictly to their written engagements
and to deter them from outrage. But discussion was the invitation to
laxity; and laxity, condoned and pampered, then defiant and
triumphant, lies at the root of the disasters which have befallen the
Chinese Empire itself, and now threaten to recoil also upon the
foreign nations which are responsible for them. This responsibility
was never more tersely summed up than by Mr Burlingame in his capacity
of Chinese Envoy. After sounding the Foreign Office that astute
diplomatist was able to inform the Tsungli-Yamên in 1869 that "the
British Government was so friendly and pacific that they would endure
anything." The dictum, though true, was fatal, and the operation of it
during thirty subsequent years explains most that has happened during
that period, at least in the relations between China and Great
Britain.
A word as to the orthography may be useful to the reader. The
impossibility of transliterating Chinese sounds into any alphabetical
language causes great confusion in the spelling of names. A uniform
system would indeed be most desirable, but common practice has already
fixed so many of them that it seems better, in a book intended for
general reading, not to depart too much from the conventional usage,
or attempt to follow any scientific system, which must, after all, be
based upon mispronunciation of the Chinese sounds.
As regards personal names, it may be convenient to call attention to
the distinction between Chinese and Manchu forms. In the case of the
former the custom is to write the _nomen_, or family name, separately,
and the _pre-nomen_ (which by Chinese practice becomes the
_post-nomen_) by itself, and, when it consists of two characters,
separated by a hyphen--_e.g._, Li (_nomen_) Hung-chang (_post-nomen_).
In the case of Manchus, who are known not by a family name, but by
what may be termed, for want of a better expression, their
_pre-nomen_, it is customary to write the name in one word, without
hyphens--for example, Kiying, Ilipu. As the Chinese name usually
consists of three characters or syllables, and the Manchu usually of
two, the form of name affords a _prima facie_ indication of the
extraction of the personage referred to. Polysyllabic names, as
San-ko-lin-sin, are generally Mongol.
The sovereign is not referred to by name, the terms Kwanghsu,
Tungchih, and so forth, being the Chinese characters chosen to
designate, or, as we might say, idealise the reign, in the same way as
impersonal titles are selected for houses of business.
I desire to express my deep obligation to Sir Rutherford Alcock's
stepdaughter Amy, Lady Pelly, without whose efficient aid the book
could not have been compiled. It is a subject of regret to all
concerned that Lady Alcock herself did not live to see the completion
of a task in the inception of which she took a keen and loving
interest.
To the other friends who have in different ways helped in the
production of the book, and particularly to Mr William Keswick, M.P.,
for the loan of his valuable Chinnery and Crealock drawings, my best
thanks are due.
A. M.
LONDON, _November 2nd, 1900_.
_Postscript._--The legend on the front cover is a
paraphrase of Chapter xxiii., Book xv., of the Analects of
Confucius, Dr Legge's translation of which has been adopted
by me as the motto of these volumes.
CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME.
CHAP. PAGE
I. THE ARMY SURGEON--
I. YOUTH 1
II. THE PENINSULA, 1832-1837 8
III. ENGLAND, 1838-1844 23
II. SENT TO CHINA 29
FOREIGN RELATIONS WITH CHINA 31
III. ANTECEDENTS OF THE WAR--
I. THE OPIUM TRADE 42
II. THE SEQUEL TO THE SURRENDER OF OPIUM 55
IV. THE FIRST CHINA WAR, 1839-1842 60
V. THE TREATY OF 1842 78
VI. THE FRUITS OF THE WAR AND PROSPECTS OF PEACE 86
VII. THE NEW INTERCOURSE: CANTON, 1842-1847 93
VIII. THE NEW TREATY PORTS--FOOCHOW, AMOY, NINGPO 112
IX. SHANGHAI 124
I. THE TSINGPU AFFAIR 129
II. REBELLION 135
III. THE CHINESE MARITIME CUSTOMS 143
IV. CREATION OF THE FOREIGN CUSTOMS 149
V. MR ALCOCK'S DEPARTURE FROM SHANGHAI 156
X. CONSUL ALCOCK'S VIEWS ON GENERAL POLICY 161
XI. TRADE UNDER THE TREATY OF NANKING 167
I. TEA 178
II. SILK 187
III. OPIUM 191
IV. CHINESE EXPORTS 200
V. BRITISH EXPORTS 203
VI. NATIVE TRADE 207
XII. SHIPPING 211
XIII. THE TRADERS--
I. FOREIGN 248
II. CHINESE 263
XIV. HONGKONG 271
XV. MACAO 287
XVI. PIRACY 299
XVII. THE ARROW WAR 308
I. THE EARL OF ELGIN AND HIS MISSION 320
II. LORD ELGIN'S SECOND MISSION 349
XVIII. INTERCOURSE UNDER THE TREATIES OF 1858 AND 1860--
I. THE DIPLOMATIC OVERTURE 361
II. NEW PORTS AND OPENING OF YANGTZE 369
III. ADMIRAL HOPE'S POLICY TOWARDS INSURGENTS 375
IV. THE LAY-OSBORN FLOTILLA 387
V. THE END OF THE REBELLION 392
VI. EVACUATION OF CANTON 396
VII. DEATH OF THE EMPEROR 397
VIII. INFLUENCE OF THESE EVENTS ON PROGRESS OF
DIPLOMACY 398
APPENDIX.
I. NOTE ON OUR PRESENT POSITION AND THE STATE OF OUR
RELATIONS WITH CHINA, BY CONSUL ALCOCK, JANUARY
19, 1849 411
II. CONFIDENTIAL DESPATCH BY CONSUL ALCOCK TO SIR GEORGE
BONHAM, JANUARY 13, 1852 428
III. CONFIDENTIAL DESPATCH TO SIR GEORGE BONHAM, DATED JUNE
17, 1852. (EXTRACT) 432
IV. ACCOUNT OF THE SALT TRADE ANNEXED TO MR PARKES' SUMMARY
OF THE NATIVE MARITIME TRADE OF FOOCHOW,
1846. (EXTRACTS) 439
ILLUSTRATIONS TO THE FIRST VOLUME.
PAGE
MR RUTHERFORD ALCOCK AT THE AGE OF THIRTY-FOUR. _Frontispiece_
From a drawing by L. A. de Fabeck.
MACAO 48
H.M. SHIPS IMOGEN AND ANDROMACHE PASSING BOCCA TIGRIS
BATTERIES 70
THE LAKES, NINGPO 114
THE FIRST CONSULAR RESIDENCE AT FOOCHOW 116
BRIDGE OVER RIVER MIN 120
THE SECOND CONSULAR RESIDENCE AT FOOCHOW, 1848 122
BAMBOO BRIDGE AT FOOCHOW 124
COUNTRY WATERWAY NEAR SHANGHAI 126
ENTRANCE TO SZE-KING, NEAR SHANGHAI 136
RUSTIC SCENE NEAR SHANGHAI 156
VILLAGE ON THE CANALS 200
DENT'S VERANDAH, MACAO 294
GEORGE CHINNERY 298
From an oil-painting by himself.
SIR FREDERICK BRUCE 348
MR LOCH DEPARTS FROM PEKING FOR ENGLAND WITH CHINESE
TREATY 354
MONSEIGNEUR MOUILLI 356
FIRST BRITISH CONSULATE AT KOLENGSOO, 1844 370
MAPS.
MAP OF CANTON WATERS 62
YANGTZE AND GRAND CANAL 75
MOUTH OF YANGTZE AND CHUSAN ARCHIPELAGO 132
ROADS AND WATERWAYS BETWEEN PEKING AND TIENTSIN 331
THE ENGLISHMAN IN CHINA.
CHAPTER I.
THE ARMY SURGEON.
I. YOUTH.
Birth at Ealing -- Motherless childhood -- Feeble health --
Irregular schooling -- Medical education -- Student days in
Paris -- Wax-modelling -- Admission to College of Surgeons
-- House Surgeon at Westminster Hospital.
Born in the same year as Mr Gladstone, May 1809, John Rutherford
Alcock[1] predeceased that statesman by only six months. His
birthplace was Ealing, and he died in Westminster, after a residence
there in retirement of twenty-seven years. Being a delicate infant, he
was baptised in Ealing church when one day old. His childhood was
deprived of its sunshine by the loss of his mother, and it does not
appear that his father, a medical man of some note, and an artist to
boot, was equal to filling the void in the young life. Consequently
boyhood had for him none of the halo of a golden age, but was, on the
contrary, a grey and cheerless memory, furnishing tests of hardihood
rather than those glowing aspirations which generally kindle young
ambitions.
His early life was passed with relatives in the north of England, and
he went to school at Hexham, where he had for companions Sir John
Swinburne and Mr Dawson Lambton.
Of his school-days there is little to remark. Indeed his early
education seems to have been most irregular, having been subject to
long and frequent interruptions on account of ill-health, which
necessitated sea-voyages and other changes of air. Nevertheless the
diligence which was part of his nature compensated for these drawbacks
of his youth, and set its seal on his whole after-career.
On returning to his father's house at the age of fifteen, the boy began
his medical education, being, according to the fashion of the day,
apprenticed to his father, and at the same time entered as a student
at the Westminster Hospital and the Royal Westminster Ophthalmic
Hospital under that distinguished surgeon, G. J. Guthrie. His passion
for art had already asserted itself, and he was enabled to indulge it
by constant visits to Chantrey's studio, where, "amid the musical
sounds of the chisel on the marble, with snatches of airs from the
workmen, where all breathed a calm and happy repose, he passed
delightful hours." His half-holidays were spent at Chantrey's in
modelling.
In the following year he visited Paris, and seems ever after to have
looked back on the gay city as a kind of paradise, for there the world
first really opened to the young man of sixteen. Then began that life
of work and enjoyment, so blended as to be inseparable, which
continued without intermission for more than seventy years. In the
stimulating atmosphere of Paris, and its free and independent life,
the boy's faculties rapidly developed. He seemed, indeed, to expand
suddenly into full manhood. Destined for the medical profession, he
worked hard at anatomy, chemistry, and natural history, while taking
also a keen interest in artistic and literary subjects; mastered
French and Italian; and, in short, turned his twelve or eighteen
months' sojourn to highly practical account.
From a small pocket-book containing notes of the journey to France,
and part of his work in Paris, we give some extracts illustrative of
the boy's character and powers of observation.
It was on the 17th of August 1825 that the party embarked at the
Custom-House Stairs for Calais, the voyage occupying fourteen hours.
On landing the lad "amused himself by observing the effects in the sky
and the sea, and by picking up shells, bones of birds and animals,
which having remained in the sea until perfectly clean, looked
beautiful and white as ivory." Simple things interested him, and after
dinner at the Hôtel Meurice in Paris he "listened with much pleasure
to a man playing airs on what he called an American flute"--which he
goes on to describe: "The tones were mellow in the extreme, and the
airs he played I think were much superior in sweetness to any I have
ever heard from an instrument so clear," and so on. Obviously a
subjective impression; it is his own emancipation that beautifies the
simplest things and inspires the simplest sounds. Like the
convalescent in Gray--
"The meanest floweret of the vale,
The simplest note that swells the gale,
The common sun, the air, the skies,
To him are opening Paradise."
On his first Sunday in Paris he was "much struck with the beauty of
the paintings and a great number of pieces sculptured in
_bas-relief_." Then he walked in the gardens of the Tuileries, "which
in extent, in statues and in fountains, in the appearance of it taking
it altogether, far exceeded anything my imagination had conceived
concerning it."
At Versailles he was "highly delighted with many of the paintings. The
gardens are extremely extensive and the fountains very numerous; ...
but it is all extremely artificial, and therefore soon fatigues the
eye." In these slight observations are perceptible the artistic
instinct and sense of fitness, faculties which served him so admirably
in his future work, and might have won him distinction in other fields
than those in which his lot was ultimately cast.
He was in Paris for a serious purpose, the study of medicine and
surgery, and seriously he followed it. At the same time he mixed
freely in the artistic and literary society of the French capital, and
left none of his talents uncultivated. A characteristic incident in
his educational career was his mastering the art of modelling in wax
and in plaster. Following up his experiments in Chantrey's studio, he
took regular lessons in Paris, and attained such proficiency that,
young as he was, he was able to maintain himself while in that city by
the sale of his anatomical models. For one of these he mentions
receiving fifty guineas, and a few years after "for two arms and two
legs the size of life" he notes receiving 140 guineas. These also won
for him distinctions at home, for in the year 1825 he was awarded the
"Gold Isis Medal" of the Society of Arts, and in the following year
the "large gold medal" of that society, for original models in
coloured wax. And it may be mentioned as characteristic that although
in later years an active member of that society, Sir H. T. Wood, the
secretary, who knew him well, was unaware of Sir Rutherford Alcock's
having so early in life received the society's medals. "The fact is an
interesting one," he says, "and I am glad to have had my attention
drawn to it." Some of these works were preserved in the Museum of the
College of Surgeons, while others, prepared in special wax, were
bought by Government for the use of the Indian medical schools.
From the small pocket-book to which we have already referred, and
which contains concise notes of his course of instruction in modelling
under a M. Dupont, we extract the note of his first lesson. It shows
thoroughness of mind, keenness of observation, and the instinct for
accuracy which enabled him so soon to attain to excellence in the art,
and led to success in all the other pursuits of his life:--
_Sept. 1._--To-day my first lesson in modelling began. I
saw M. Dupont work upon a mask of a little boy's face in
wax. He opened the eyes, but did not in my opinion make
them quite correct. The only thing I observed in particular
was his using oil very freely with his tool. I afterwards
saw three moulds of a thigh near the hip after amputation,
cast in wax. One was soaked in water, another was rubbed
with soft-soap, and a third was well oiled. The one that
was oiled produced the most perfect cast, but I should have
thought both water, soap, and oil were used much too
freely. They were all cast in wax of a deep red colour, and
one of them was placed in the stump of one of the thighs of
the model on which M. Dupont was engaged. It was not quite
large enough for the thigh in some places, and too large in
others. This he altered without scruple, so that when the
stump was finished, though it looked extremely natural, it
was by no means accurate.
Before quitting the life in Paris the following sample of its popular
amusements as they presented themselves to the young student may be
interesting to readers, and it is unfortunately the last entry in the
pocket-book, and almost the last assistance we shall get from journals
during the seventy years of crowded life which followed:--
I went yesterday [Sunday, September 10, 1826] to the Swiss
Mountain, very extensive gardens on the Boulevards, where
the most respectable part of the pleasure-seeking Parisians
assemble on Sunday: you pay ten sous admittance. Here there
is a large establishment for dinners where you may dine as
at the restaurateurs, in a public room, or there are a long
suite of apartments for parties of four, six, or twelve
each, looking out into the gardens, and immediately before
the windows was the space enclosed by trees, which form a
canopy over it, and which is allotted to dancing. On one
side is the orchestra; and when I heard it there was a very
excellent band of musicians in it. It was rather
unfavourable weather, as there were in the course of the
day several very heavy showers, yet there seemed to be a
very great number of elegantly dressed females and
respectable-looking men; and some even highly-dressed,
which is a wonder, I think, for the gentlemen in Paris seem
to dress as much inferior to us as the French ladies dress
better than the English. Indeed it is quite delightful to
see the great taste with which they dress and the elegance
of contour in all their figures. I don't know how it
happens, but I never recollect seeing a French woman that
was at all above the lowest class of society that was a
slovenly or slattern figure, and very few that were not
really elegant, though their faces are, generally speaking,
plain.
After having dined I went to see the Swiss Mountain, which
had made a noise whilst I was at dinner that very much
resembled distant thunder. I had no idea what it was; my
surprise may therefore be conceived when, on coming
suddenly in sight of it, I saw a man, apparently sitting on
a chair, whirl past me with a velocity more resembling the
speed of lightning than anything I had before seen,--so
much so, that though from the top to the bottom where they
drop might be about 200 feet, I had merely time to
perceive that there was a man seated on some sort of
vehicle like a chair.
The mountain consisted of boards raised at an angle of
about from 60° to 70° with the ground, and gradually
becoming level. The distance from where they set off to
where they stop I have before stated, I think, to be about
200 feet.
This platform is sufficiently broad to allow three of the
vehicles to go down and one to return up at the same
time--that is to say, there are four iron grooves
accurately fitted to the small wheels on which the vehicles
move. There are horses as well as chairs for both ladies
and gentlemen. I saw several gentlemen on horseback and one
lady. The horses appear to me to be real horses' hides,
perhaps covering a wooden horse. They are accoutred with
saddle, stirrups, and bridle. One person who came down on
one of these horses rose and fell in his stirrups as though
riding a real horse; it created much laughter, and the
people surrounding immediately called out "Un Anglais! un
Anglais!" I believe he was an Englishman. It had a
ridiculous effect to observe the anxiety depicted on the
countenances of the heroes, and compare them, with the
knowledge of their perfect safety, with the laughing groups
that surrounded them. Sometimes a veteran hero would mount
one of the horses and come down with triumph in his
countenance; the effect then became still more ridiculous,
for he seemed like a great baby mounted on a hobby-horse
proportionately large. But so it is through life, I think;
one sees people capable of being elated as much by actions
little in themselves, but enlarged for the instant by
circumstances, as, for instance, in this case--the rapidity
of motion, the gay crowd, and the distant music--as they
would have been by an action really great in itself but
unembroidered by outward show.
Hearing the music and wishing to see the dancing I had
heard so much of, I approached the dancers. We read that
the French enjoy dancing with great zest; certes, to see
them dance a quadrille, one would not say so: 'tis true it
is a dance in which custom has forbidden much exertion,
still the entire listlessness they show induced me to think
it was a task rather than a pleasure. But when a lively
waltz struck up and the waltzing began, I....
Here the notes break off.
Of the student's life of four years from 1828 to 1832 there is little
which can or need be said. For two years and a half out of the four he
was house surgeon at the Westminster Hospital and the Ophthalmic
Hospital, having received, at the age of twenty-one, the diploma from
the Royal College to practise surgery. During this period he continued
modelling, and took pupils in that art. Writing for periodicals also
occupied some of his leisure time.
No sooner was his student career ended than an opening presented
itself which determined the future course of his life, but in a way
very different from what could possibly have been anticipated.
II. THE PENINSULA, 1832-1837.
Dynastic quarrel in Portugal -- Foreign legion -- Mr Alcock
enters the service, 1832 -- Character of the force and its
leaders -- Colonel Shaw -- Incidents of the campaign --
Important medical services of Mr Alcock -- Joins the
Spanish Foreign Legion, 1836 -- Termination of the
campaign.
There were troubles in Portugal. The usurper Dom Miguel was on the
throne. It was proposed to seat the rightful sovereign, Donna Maria,
there--her father, Dom Pedro, ex-Emperor of Brazil, who assumed the
title of Duke of Braganza, heading the movement.
Sympathy was excited in France and England, in both of which countries
irregular forces were levied to co-operate with the constitutional
party in Portugal led by his imperial majesty. It was a kind of
service which tempted alike young bloods and old soldiers who had been
languishing in peace and idleness since 1815, and a small army of
"Liberators" was got together in England, with a corresponding naval
force.
It has been mentioned that young Alcock had studied under the eminent
army surgeon Guthrie. Feelings of regard had sprung up between the two
which extended far beyond the professional sphere. Not only had the
boy been a favourite pupil whose aptitude reflected credit on his
teacher, but it is quite evident that a personal affection which
lasted their respective lifetimes was rekindled during the years they
subsequently spent together in Westminster. When, therefore, Mr
Guthrie was applied to by Mr O'Meara, who had been in attendance on
Napoleon at St Helena, to recommend a surgeon for the British-Portuguese
force, Guthrie sent at once for Alcock and discussed with him his
professional prospects. The upshot was that as, considering his
youth,--he was then only twenty-two,--it was useless for him to think
of beginning practice in London, a few years might be most
advantageously passed in military service abroad. The young man was
only too eager to close with the offer then made to him, which not
only afforded the prospect of active professional work, but seemed to
open the way for adventures such as the soul of a young man loveth.
Within twenty-four hours of accepting the offer Alcock was on the way
to Portsmouth and the Azores. For some time after his arrival there he
did duty on board ship. His ambition being cramped by this restricted
service, however, he was anxious to be transferred to the military
force. He accordingly applied to Colonel Hodges, who commanded the
marine battalion, to be taken on his staff. The colonel looked at him
with some hesitation owing to his extremely youthful appearance, but
on hearing that he had been specially recommended by Guthrie, said,
"Oh, that is a different matter; come along."
Of the Peninsular expeditions of 1832-37 the interest for the present
generation lies less in their origin, aims, and results, than in their
conduct and incidents. They were episodes which have left no marks on
the general course of history visible to the ordinary observer, and
are memorable chiefly for their dramatic effects, the play of
character, the exhibitions of personal courage, capacity, and
devotion; of jealousy, intrigue, and incapacity; of love and hate; and
of the lights and shadows that flit across the theatre of human life.
Interferences in other people's quarrels naturally bring to the
surface all the incongruities. The auxiliaries are sure to be thought
arrogant whether they are really so or not, and the _protégés_ are no
less certain to be deemed ungrateful. Each party is apt to
underestimate the exploits of the other and to exaggerate his own.
They take widely different views of the conditions under which their
respective services are rendered; they misconstrue each other's
motives, assessing them at their lowest apparent value. Each side
looks for certain sentimental acknowledgments from the other, while
daily frictions and inevitable misunderstandings continually embitter
the disappointment felt at their absence. And there are not two
parties, but many. There are wheels within wheels; sections playing on
each other tricks which savour of treachery on the one side, while on
the other side there may be sulks which are constructive mutiny. The
question of pay is naturally a constant source of bitterness, for
countries that need foreign assistance are impecunious and dilatory.
Few of them would be entitled to the certificate which Dugald Dalgetty
gave to his excellent paymasters, the Dutch. Yet in spite of
drawbacks, there is a kind of method in the whole business, a movement
towards a goal, though at a maximum of cost, with the greatest waste
and the most poignant regrets over mismanagement.
But what in these irregular campaigns is so remarkable as to be almost
repugnant to common reason is the devotion of the mercenary soldier.
This inspiriting sentiment, which springs up spontaneously like a
wild-flower in desert places, seems to put patriotism in the shade as
a motive for sacrifice. The hired soldier, though an alien, is often
indeed more faithful than the son of the soil, perhaps for the reason
that his allegiance is of a simpler nature, more categorical and
explicit. The direct personal character of such alien allegiance and
its transferability are exemplified in the lives of soldiers of
fortune in general: never better, perhaps, than in the wild and
dangerous career of Alexander Gardner, colonel of artillery in the
service of Maharaja Ranjit Singh, whose Memoirs have been recently
edited by Major Hugh Pearse. Is it the fighting instinct, hereditary
heroism, or military discipline that makes the soldier? Is it the
cause that inspires him, or is it only devotion to his immediate
leader? Explain it how we may, the British Legion both in Portugal and
in Spain maintained the character of their race for pluck and tenacity
as well as if they had been fighting for their own king and country.
And this is rendered still more remarkable when the promiscuous
manner of their muster is considered. Clandestine engagements in the
slums of Soho, under the guise of labour or emigrant contracts, in
evasion of the Foreign Enlistment Acts; surreptitious journeys, as
"hop-pickers," to Gravesend; secret embarkations under cover of night;
and the disciplining of a mob composed of the dregs of the streets,
afford subject of some graphic and humorous descriptions on the part
of the officers concerned in raising the squad and licking them into
shape. It must have required a very sanguine faith in the radical
qualities of the stock for any officer of repute to consent to "march
through Coventry" with such a herd of scalliwags.
The officer who seems to have had a principal share in collecting
these raw levies, and distinguished himself in both campaigns in the
Peninsula, in which he bore a leading part, has left us some racy
descriptions of the force and its experiences in the field. Sir
Charles Shaw was himself a typical soldier by nature and by practice.
Circumstances alone would determine whether it should be as a soldier
of fortune, a patriot defending hearths and homes, or as an Ishmaelite
adventurer, that his sword would be unsheathed. The sporting and
adventurous instinct scents danger afar, like the war-horse in the
book of Job which laughs at the spears. The manner in which he came to
embrace the profession of arms was itself so characteristic as to
deserve mention.
As a youth he was passionately devoted to sport, and when that
momentous question the choice of a profession came up for
consideration, sport decided it in favour of law, for the somewhat
original reason that the young gentleman had observed that lawyers
seemed to enjoy the longest holidays! He had begun his studies, and
was on his way to St Andrews to enter on a new course when an incident
occurred which diverted the current of his thoughts. He met a batch of
French prisoners of war being removed from one garrison to another,
whose misery affected him so much that he was instantly seized with
the idea of becoming a soldier. The particular form in which the
inspiration took him was that he put himself in the position of one of
these prisoners and imagined himself the hero of his own and his
comrades' deliverance.
His studies at St Andrews, perturbed by the new passion, made
indifferent progress. The historic golf-links afforded some relief,
acting as a kind of neutral soothing medium between antagonistic
aspirations. But the final solution of his troubles came from a famous
piece of water which is there, called the Witches' Pond. The virtue of
this water was great in the barbaric age when the curse of witchcraft
lay heavy on the land. The suspected person was thrown into the water.
If she floated, her guilt was proven and she was incontinently burned;
if she sank, it proved the high specific gravity of flesh and bone.
Happy thought! The young man would subject his life's destiny to this
convenient ordeal. He would jump into the pond, and either sink as a
lawyer or emerge as a soldier!
After this original form of baptism, initiation into the mysteries
soon followed, and the young soldier saw much active service during
the Napoleonic wars in the Peninsula and in the Low Countries. He
missed Waterloo through being on other duty, and in the piping times
of peace which followed that decisive battle an idyllic life at
Richmond seemed to bound the horizon of his unsatisfied ambition for
some fifteen years. From a totally unexpected quarter the call to arms
reached him in his retreat, and suddenly roused all his sleeping
energies. The offer of a commission in the service of the young Queen
of Portugal met with an eager response, and Shaw entered heart and
soul into the service of Donna Maria.
As well as being an active soldier, Major Shaw was a lively
correspondent, and it is from his letters to his family that we get
the most brilliant flash-lights on the incidents of his military
career generally, and more particularly on that exciting portion of it
which most concerns the subject of these volumes. These letters were
edited and published by himself at the close of the operations in
Spain.
Colonel Hodges, who commanded the foreign brigade in Portugal, and
seems to have left the queen's service in a huff, also published a
narrative of the campaign, of which, however, the historical value is
not enhanced by its apologetic and explanatory motive.
From the contemporary notes of these two officers we get generous and
emphatic testimony to the manner in which Mr Alcock acquitted himself
under the ordeal of severe military service. Indeed his comrades and
commanding officers, first in Portugal and afterwards in Spain, seem
to have vied with each other in spontaneous eulogy of the conduct of
the young surgeon, none of them more flattering than General De Lacy
Evans, who commanded in Spain. It is the record of a hero and a
philanthropist, of high military ardour subordinated to still higher
duty both to the cause he was serving and to the comrades whose lives
were under his care. The valour of a non-combatant makes no less a
demand on the virile stamina than the valour of the soldier,--oftentimes
indeed more, since he lacks the stimulus of active conflict and
confronts danger passive and unarmed. A few extracts from these really
remarkable testimonials may still be read with pleasure after the
lapse of sixty years.
Shaw writes to his family:--
A peasant led the way (they wear no shoes and their feet
are like hands). I took off my shoes, and after getting
down about fifty yards, I looked up and saw a favourite
soldier of mine close above me, and an intimate friend of
Ramus, the assistant-surgeon Alcock (a nice young fellow),
following. I ordered the soldier to halt; but his answer
of, "I'll follow your honour to death, captain," made me
silent. I tried military authority with young Alcock, as I
saw he was much excited; but no, his professional services
were, he thought, required, and follow he would. Every
moment expecting he would roll down, I clasped my toes and
fingers close to the precipice, that he might fall without
sweeping me with him: such is selfish nature! Two or three
times I determined to return, but the soldier's speech
forced me on. We reached the bottom in about half an hour,
and, believe me, I returned thanks.
I proceeded along the rocky beach, and there found poor
Ramus lying on a rock, in a sleeping position, with all his
clothes torn, and a dreadful gash in his head; his body all
broken; but with an expression of countenance indicating he
had suffered no pain. I was astonished to see him without
his shoes; but in ascending a sharp rock I found them, with
the marks where his heels had caught as he tumbled
backwards head foremost. Finding that our descent had been
useless, I told those who had come down that I would not
allow them to risk their lives in ascending, and sent off
a peasant to get a boat; but he failed both in this and in
getting ropes to pull us up. Self again stepped in, and as
senior I led the way--one great reason being that no one
could tumble back on me! I reached the top--hands torn and
feet bruised; and to my joy young Alcock made his
appearance, but so faint that I was obliged to supply him
liberally with my brandy.
The duty which now had to be performed by the medical men
was of the most arduous character. The surgeon of the
British battalion, Souper, carried away by the military
spirit instilled into him by being an actor in the "Three
Days of July," resigned his commission as surgeon, and on
this day commenced and finished his military career, being
killed at Hodges' side while carrying orders to the French
battalion. His place was filled up by Mr Rutherford Alcock,
who had the same love for "fire," but for a different
object--that of being close at hand to give prompt
assistance to any one who was wounded. Although young,
Alcock was old in knowledge and experience: he was highly
respected by all who knew him, and beloved by those who
entered into action, as they felt assured that he thought
not of his own safety when his services could be of benefit
to them. In the most exposed situations I saw him this day,
dressing officers and men with the same coolness as if he
were in a London hospital; and I cannot refrain from
expressing envy at the gratified feeling he must ever
possess when he thinks of the number of human beings he has
saved by his knowledge, experience, bravery, and activity,
both at Oporto, Vittoria, and St Sebastian. But his trials
after the fight of the 29th of September were great.
Owing to the fights of Pennafiel, Ponte Fereira, and the
different affairs on the Lugar das Antas, the wards
allotted to the British in the general hospitals were full;
therefore, one may form some idea of the misery of the
British when scattered among the different hospitals,
speaking a language which was not understood. Measures were
taken by Hodges and Alcock to gather the wounded foreigners
together, but the Minister of War threw every impediment in
the way of this; almost making one suspect, that now that
the soldier had done his work and was useless, the sooner
he died the better.
Truth compels me to state a fact I should wish to avoid,
but it is right that those who are to be soldiers should
know the value that is sometimes put upon their services.
The words were made use of by Dom Pedro, but from what I
have seen of him, I think others must have at the moment
prompted him. The medical man was mentioning that it would
be necessary to amputate the legs and arms of some of the
British. "No, no," said Dom Pedro, "you British are fond of
amputations, because your men are to have pensions, and
that is expensive."
No application from myself as commanding the battalion;
from Alcock, as senior medical officer; nor from Hodges, as
the representative of the foreigners, had any effect on
Augustinho José Freire: thus the poor fellows, crowded
together, without beds, without nurses, without clothes,
and even without medicines, died in numbers.
The references to Alcock's services are so frequent in these letters,
so unconventional and spontaneous, as to prove the deep and lasting
impression the young surgeon had made on his companions in arms. "I am
glad for all your sakes to tell you that my wounds have healed in an
extraordinary manner.... I consider myself greatly indebted to Alcock
both for his skill and attention." And at the close of the Portuguese
campaign: "I wonder if Alcock knows that he has got the decoration of
the Tower and Sword? No man in the service deserves it more, both for
bravery and kindness to the wounded." "The scarcity of medicines was
dreadful; but with the active and willing assistance of Alcock, and
the Portuguese medical gentlemen, it is quite wonderful what has been
accomplished."
The bad condition of the hospitals at Oporto is the burden of many
references in both Shaw's letters and Hodges' more formal narrative;
and as the only records of the campaign from Alcock's own pen happen
to be in official documents connected with the medical service, we
give _in extenso_ one of his despatches, showing in an inexperienced
boy of twenty-three a maturity of judgment and a broad grasp of duty,
with, what is perhaps more important, a mastery of work, that would
not discredit a veteran.
OPORTO, _Sept. 20, 1832_.
SIR,--The danger to which the patients were found to be
exposed by the fire of the enemy caused their removal to a
place of greater safety, where they might at least have
nothing to fear from the enemy's shells. This change in the
arrangements, however, has been in other respects extremely
disadvantageous to the sick and wounded men. They are now
crowded from the higher parts of the building into the
corridors and ground-floors--a situation well known to be
unfavourable to the recovery of sick men, from the air
being so much less pure. Our own men, including the English
sailors, have been placed in one ward, which, though of
tolerably large dimensions, is very far from affording the
necessary space and quantum of air required for forty-eight
or fifty patients, which for some time has been the
average--an average which we may rather expect to see
increased than diminished during the approaching wet
season. Moreover, from peculiar localities, it is quite
impossible efficiently to ventilate the room, or to ensure
a free circulation of air, which is as essential as any
other means employed for the recovery of health.
It is under these circumstances that I feel not only
authorised, but bound in duty, to draw your attention to
the subject; assured that in any measures proposed for the
benefit or wellbeing of the men under your command it is
only necessary to show they are really required to meet
your cordial support. Many difficulties, and many
disadvantageous arrangements, have always attended the
treatment of the patients in the present establishment; but
these last compulsory changes, when added to the former
state, place my patients in too dangerous a position to
allow me to be silent or inactive. Situated as we are, I
cannot promise the speedy recovery of any of the gunshot
wounds, nor indeed of the sick generally, and their
liability to any of the epidemics unfortunately so common
in crowded hospitals renders me exceedingly anxious to
have some steps taken to place them in a more favourable
position.
The means I have to submit for your consideration and
approval are, I believe and hope, extremely feasible. I
desire to have some large dwelling-house appropriated for
the reception of all English and French sick and wounded,
by which means the General Hospital would be relieved of
nearly a hundred patients, and of those, moreover, who,
from the difference of language, are a fruitful and
constant source of trouble and inconvenience--nay, more, of
irregularity as prejudicial to the patients as it is
discreditable to a military establishment of such
importance. Many houses well adapted for this purpose might
easily be mentioned, already at the disposal of the
Government by the flight of the owners. One I could point
out at this moment which, from a superficial inspection, I
believe might be advantageously appropriated--a corner
house in the Praça de St Ildefonso, adjoining the church.
The advantages which would accrue from this arrangement
cannot for a moment be counterbalanced by the trouble or
difficulty of first organising the separate establishment.
The patients could then be classed and placed in different
rooms, and not, as now, promiscuously crowded
together--surgical and medical, fevers and amputations; by
which arrangement their liability to any epidemic would be
exceedingly diminished, while the patients would be more
immediately under the eye and control of the medical
attendants. Both surgeon and patient would thus be placed
under more favourable circumstances, and the general
service much facilitated by the removal of foreign troops
from an establishment entirely Portuguese.
In glancing at the advantages, I should omit one of very
great importance if I did not submit to you the facility it
would afford for the good treatment of wounded and sick
officers. Instead of being attended at their own quarters,
often just within the first line, to their own great risk
and the inconvenience of the surgeon, they would be removed
to a place of safety, and where, moreover, from being
entirely under medical command, their rank would procure
them none of those injurious indulgences in the way of
diet, &c., which even the wisest of us are apt to risk the
enjoyment of when in our power. They might easily enjoy
every necessary comfort, while they would be carefully
guarded from all imprudent excess.
The chief difficulties I foresee, and which I have no doubt
will immediately present themselves to your mind, appear to
me very far from insurmountable. I require the assistance
of no Portuguese officer whatever, except a commissary or
purveyor, on whom I can _fully depend_, for the due and
regular supply of fuel, meat, wine, fowls, and such other
articles as are required for the good treatment of the
patients, and which are daily supplied to the General
Hospital. This is of the greatest importance, as any
irregularity in this branch of the service would not only
cripple my efforts, but be of serious injury to all under
my care. In addition to this I should require one
Portuguese domestic to every fifteen cases, for the purpose
of cooking, washing the linen, keeping the wards clean, and
such other menial duties as are independent of those
appertaining to the orderlies. The expense of a separate
establishment ought to be, and would be, of the most
trifling kind. The same beds, trussels, and utensils, now
exclusively appropriated to us, would be equally
serviceable in any other hospital. Two or three boilers,
and a few cooking utensils, with a slipper bath, are really
the chief and most expensive things required. I may safely
leave it to you, sir, to decide if this can cause any
grievous outlay.
Should it be any convenience, or be deemed by you, sir,
advantageous to the service, to the English and French
might be added the wounded Portuguese soldiers of your
brigade. I have little more to add, but should you require
further detail, I beg to refer to a letter addressed to
Major Shaw on this subject. I am fully conscious and aware
of the labour I am entailing on myself, and that which is
still more irksome, the heavy responsibility, but I have a
duty to perform. I neither court the labour nor desire the
responsibility; but if they come as a consequence of my
efforts to do that duty I can look steadfastly on them, and
I trust I have energy and perseverance enough to do all
that depends upon me in spite of them. My most ardent wish
is to prove myself worthy of the confidence you have
honoured me with, and the trust conferred upon me.--I have
the honour to be, sir, your obedient humble servant,
RUTHERFORD ALCOCK.
To Colonel HODGES,
commanding Foreign Brigade, &c., &c.
As the campaign in defence of the Queen of Portugal closed, that in
defence of the Queen Christina of Spain opened, and their rough
experiences in the former did not deter either Colonel Shaw or Surgeon
Alcock from accepting service in the Spanish Legion organised and
commanded by De Lacy Evans. "On my arrival in London," writes Shaw in
1836, "you may suppose how delighted I was to find my friend Alcock at
the head of the medical department, as his experiences in difficulties
made him decidedly the most proper man." As it is no part of our plan
to trace the operations, we give one characteristic letter from
Colonel Shaw. It is dated San Sebastian, 2 o'clock, May 6, 1836:--
MY DEAR MOTHER.--The steamer is detained, so I write to you
once more. I and my brigade are so fatigued and cut up that
we have been allowed to return here for the night. We had a
terrible morning's work of it, the brigade having lost, in
killed and wounded, about 400 men and 27 officers; others
not so much. How I escaped I know not; kind Providence was
my protector. My watch is smashed, the ball having cut
through cloak, coat, trousers, drawers, and shirt, and only
bruised me. A spent ball hit me on the chest, and my gaiter
was cut across by another. We had dreadful lines to force:
very steep, vomiting fire; and the clay up to our ankles
made us so slow that they picked as they chose. The enemy
not only behaved well behind their lines, but charged out,
and twice or thrice put us for a moment in confusion.
Alcock is slightly wounded.
And as an agreeable pendant to the severe strictures on the state of
the Portuguese hospitals, the following may fitly close our extracts
from these racy records of arduous military adventure:--
BAYONNE, _September, 1836_.
When you land, introduce yourself to my friend Alcock, and
beg him to take you through the hospitals. You will, or I
am greatly mistaken, be agreeably surprised by the
prevailing cleanliness and regularity, as also the care and
attendance bestowed on the sick and wounded. Alcock has had
a most difficult card to play. He knows well that there are
many disabled poor fellows who, if they were in the British
service, would be sent to England, certain of receiving
their pensions; but he is also aware that a poor fellow
sent to England from the service of Queen Christina,
instead of receiving his pension, is generally left to
starve. It is therefore from a praiseworthy charity that he
keeps many in hospital, under his own eye, in order that
they may in this manner get as much as will keep body and
soul together.
Mr Alcock retired from military service in 1837 with the rank of
Deputy-Inspector of Hospitals, having received the Order of the Tower
and Sword together with the war medal of the three years' service in
Portugal, and the Cross of the Order of Charles III. and Commander's
Cross of Isabella the Catholic, with medals for the two principal
actions against the Carlists.
The six years of Peninsular experiences he declared to have been "the
most stirring and attractive of his life," and in some portions of
that period he had "more complete personal gratification and material
happiness than could be safely anticipated in the future." He was now
to have six years of quite a different experience, which led up to the
turning-point in his life.
III. ENGLAND, 1838-1844.
Returns to England, 1838 -- Alcock resumes professional
work -- Prize essays and publications -- Sir James Paget's
testimonial -- A Commissioner for adjusting Peninsular
claims -- Appointed Inspector of Anatomy, 1842 --
Imperfections of the Anatomy Act -- Marriage to Miss Bacon,
1841 -- His enforced abandonment of a surgical career.
On his return to England in 1838 Alcock at once resumed the work of
his profession. In that year he published in a small 8vo volume 'Notes
on the Medical History and Statistics of the British Legion of Spain';
and in 1839, and again in 1841, he carried off the Jacksonian prizes
of the Royal College of Surgeons awarded for the best essays on
subjects selected by the Council. The first of these was "On
Concussion or Commotion of the Brain"; the second, "On Injuries of the
Thorax and Operations on its Parietes"; and naturally the value of the
papers lay in the extent to which the author was able to draw on his
own observation and experience of gunshot wounds during his seven
years of Peninsular service.
Of these contributions to medical literature Sir James Paget remarks
that "they may make one regret that he was ever induced to give up the
study of surgery. For they show an immense power of accurately
observing and recording facts, and of testing his own and others'
opinions by the help of all the knowledge of the facts possessed by
others at that time.... I doubt whether in the first half of this
century better essays on gunshot wounds of the head and of the thorax
had been written."
And the small volume dealing with hospital experiences in Spain has
drawn from the same eminent authority the comment that "it tells in a
most graphic and clear manner the difficulties which, sixty years ago,
beset the practice of surgery and the care of troops during war. These
difficulties may have been greater at that time in Spain than in any
other country in Western Europe, and may be thought now impossible,
but they may be read with great interest, and one cannot doubt that
Sir Rutherford Alcock's true account of them helped to remedy them,
... contributed to the improvement of the medical department of the
army in this country."
Mr Alcock joined the Royal Medical and Chirurgical Society in 1839,
and was appointed Lecturer in Surgery at Sydenham College, where he
delivered a series of lectures on complicated injuries, amputations,
&c.
His professional labours were soon diversified by an employment which
could scarcely have been consistent with a large practice, though in
the beginning of his surgical career it might not seem to involve much
sacrifice except of time. But it was arduous, onerous, and absolutely
gratuitous. Great trouble had arisen between the Spanish Government
and the Foreign Legion in regard to pay. No settlement could be
obtained, and eventually a commission was appointed to examine and
adjudicate the numerous claims, to which commission Mr Alcock was
appointed by express and unanimous request of the general and the
field officers of the corps. His qualifications for such an office
were quite exceptional, for to first-rate business capacity, which had
been shown in the campaign, he added a knowledge of the language and
the country which was not common, and a character which commanded
universal confidence. His work on this commission extended over two
years, and was brought to a satisfactory termination in 1839.
No sooner were the labours of the Spanish commission concluded than Mr
Alcock was, in 1840, appointed by the Foreign Office to a similar duty
in an Anglo-Portuguese commission constituted by the two Governments
to adjust the claims of British subjects who had served in the
Miguelite war of 1832-35. The work of that commission also was
satisfactorily accomplished in 1844, and, as in the Spanish
commission, Mr Alcock's labours were given without remuneration, in
order, as he said, that his judgment might be unbiassed.[2]
During the course of the Spanish commission Mr Alcock was, in 1842,
appointed, on the strong recommendation of Sir Benjamin Brodie, to a
post under the Home Office, that of Inspector of Anatomy. It would be
distasteful and of no utility to rake up the circumstances which set
on foot an agitation culminating in the passing of an Act of
Parliament in 1832 known as "The Anatomy Act." Like many other Acts of
legislature in this country, it was a compromise by which difficulties
were sought to be evaded by cunningly devised phrases whereby the
thing that was meant was so disguised as to appear to be something
else. "The Act failed in two most important points; it failed in
honesty, and was wanting in the extent of the powers conferred." In
short, after ten years' trial the Act was becoming unworkable, and a
reform in its administration was imperatively demanded. It was at
that critical moment that Mr Alcock was nominated as one of the two
inspectors under the Act, and he entered on his duties with his
well-proved practical energy. Before the end of the first year a long
and interesting report was sent in by the inspectors, and we may judge
by the sample of the Hospital Report in Oporto how thoroughly they
exposed the difficulties and how practically they proposed to overcome
them. A second report followed in 1843. But Government is a lumbering
machine, always waiting for some stronger compulsion than a mere
demonstration of what ought to be; and we are not surprised,
therefore, to find fifteen years later, and fourteen after his
connection with the Home Department had ceased, Mr Alcock still
writing the most lucid and matter-of-fact memoranda on the conditions
under which competent inspectors might be induced "to work a very
imperfect Act of Parliament."
It was during the period under review that the most interesting
episode in a young man's life occurred. On the 17th of May 1841, when
he had just completed his thirty-second year, he was married to Miss
Bacon, daughter of the sculptor of that name. The ceremony took place
at St Margaret's, Westminster, Dean Milman, then a Canon of
Westminster, officiating. His domestic bliss was unruffled, the couple
being profoundly congenial.
But now "a change came o'er the spirit of his dream." The career which
opened before the young surgeon was full of promise. So far as the
personal factor was concerned, no man could have started with a
better equipment. There were efficiency, thoroughness, enthusiasm,
courage, and common-sense; there were, as we have seen in the student
days, manual dexterity and exactness and artistic power of no
contemptible order; there was, in short, every attribute of an
accomplished surgeon, who must in the course of nature rise to
eminence. A chair of military surgery was ready for him at King's
College, and an assistant-surgeonship at Westminster Hospital. All
that, however, had to be sacrificed and a new departure taken, in
consequence of an illness which left its mark in the form of paralysis
of hands and arms, and thus put an end to "all dreams of surgical
practice."
This malady was a legacy from the Peninsula. Like Cæsar, "he had a
fever when he was in Spain," a rheumatic fever of a particularly
severe type contracted at the siege of San Sebastian. This entailed
indescribable pain and misery during many months, and, in spite of
partial recoveries, seems to have left its after-effects seven years
later in what he calls the "mysterious" affection in his hands. It was
indeed considered remarkable that he should have survived an attack of
so formidable a character. He never recovered the use of his thumbs,
which marred the legibility of his writing to the end of his life.
His professional career being thus rudely closed, it might well have
appeared to a man of thirty-five that his life was shipwrecked ere the
voyage was well begun. It would have been in accord with the
short-sighted judgment which men usually form of their own fortunes.
But
"There's a divinity that shapes our ends,
Rough-hew them how we will;"--
and Alcock learned, what many before and since have learned, that
prosperity and adversity oft visit men in disguise, and are liable to
be mistaken the one for the other. Providence employs for its
favourites an alchemy whereby the very ashes of their misery may be
transmuted into pure gold; and what looks like disaster is but the
rending of the veil which concealed a world of richer promise than
that which they abandon with regret.
[Illustration]
FOOTNOTES:
[1] He dropped the "John" so early in life that he was never known by
it.
[2] The only valuable consideration he received for these labours was
bestowed some years later, when his entry into the service of the
Foreign Office was ante-dated to 1840, so as to include the period of
the Peninsular commissions.