THE INDIAN MUTINY.

ON the 12th of July, 1856, at the Court at Buckingham Palace, Lord Palmerston was made a Knight of the Garter, it being understood that this was done in recognition of his services in reference to the Crimean War. When we remember what had occurred a few years back as to his dismissal from the Foreign Office, we may allow that he was bound to accept this token of her Majesty’s favour. Lord Melbourne is reported to have said some years earlier, when a similar opportunity had come to him, that he had no need to bribe himself;—and he died without having K.G. written after his name. It is probable that no such word was used by Lord Melbourne, and that the cynical phrase was one merely made to suit the occasion. But there was a truth in it which took hold of men. There is, perhaps, a feeling that, as the Prime Minister is supposed to recommend the recipients of this honour for Her Majesty’s acceptance, Palmerston would not now stand lower in the world’s esteem had he declined it. Lord Fortescue, who was installed on the same day, could well afford to accept the blue ribbon. There was a reason why Lord Palmerston should accept it. But had he not done so, there would have been an increased glory in going to his rest, as Lord{175} Melbourne had done, without burdening his name with the additional title.

In August, 1856, when Lord Palmerston was surrounded by the difficulties incident to the completion of the war, he lost his only brother; and with him those letters came to an end, which give us the freest account of Lord Palmerston’s thoughts, his ambition, his arrogance, and his justice. We do not hear a word from him afterwards about his brother. He might have been the merest casual friend, chance-selected for some smaller embassy. For his elder brother had never pushed him up to the higher places at Paris, Constantinople, Vienna, or St. Petersburg. Sir William Temple had probably lacked something either in intellect or energy, or perhaps in discretion, of that fitness for the duties of an ambassador which had been found in Lord Granville, Sir Stratford Canning, and Sir Hamilton Seymour. At any rate Lord Palmerston was determined that he would not be accused of nepotism. In expressions of grief there is somewhat of feminine feeling, which, to the nature of Lord Palmerston, was antipathetic. His brother had lived at Naples for many years, our Minister at a third-rate Court. Now he had come home and died, and, as far as Lord Palmerston’s outside life was concerned, there was an end of him.

Early in the Session of 1857 there sprang up a difficulty in China in reference to a small ship which has ever since been known as the lorcha Arrow. The Arrow, on a charge of piracy, was boarded by certain Chinese from a war junk, and Sir John Bowring, who was our Governor at Hong-Kong, demanded reparation from Commissioner Yeh. Then arose a quarrel and a fight, in which, of course, the English got the better. The{176} matter, which was of importance at the time, has by lapse of years become so trivial as to be hardly worthy of notice here,—but that it led to a dissolution of Parliament. A motion was brought forward in the House of Lords by Lord Derby, blaming the Government, and was carried by a majority of thirty-six. Mr. Cobden brought a similar motion before the House of Commons, and was supported by Mr. Disraeli, Lord John Russell, Sir James Graham, and Mr. Gladstone. Mr. Disraeli twitted Lord Palmerston with having made his complaint to the country, and bade him follow his complaint by an appeal. The motion was carried by a majority of sixteen against the Government, and Lord Palmerston did appeal.

That Lord Palmerston, as Prime Minister, should have been distasteful to Mr. Cobden and Mr. Gladstone we can understand. He was essentially a War Minister, and had latterly dealt with war alone. To Mr. Cobden and Mr. Gladstone he must have been the incarnation of insular aggression. But Lord Derby and Sir James Graham, Lord John Russell and Mr. Disraeli, could have entertained none of this feeling. They had shown themselves at least anxious to conduct the war, and we cannot imagine that the question of the lorcha Arrow can have so operated upon them as to make them feel it imperative for the sake of England’s glory to turn instantly upon the man who had just brought England through her difficulties. It was simply a party conflict, in which Aristides had been too just. But Aristides resolved that he would follow his enemies’ advice, and see what the country would say to it.

He must have known when he went to the country what would be the result. He had just carried the war to a successful end, and the country would not see him{177} displaced. The normal Englishman was thoroughly proud of him, proud of his bad jokes, proud of his unflinching energy, and proud of his years. He called his opponents, when they denied that they combined together against him, “the fortuitous concourse of atoms.” The joke was better worth quoting than those he usually made. The country was even proud of him because he stuck to Tiverton instead of accepting a more glorious seat. To have deserted old friends in his glory, who had been true to him before his glory came, would not have been like Palmerston. So he got his majority in spite of the lorcha Arrow, and Mr. Bright and Mr. Cobden were both excluded from the new Parliament.

Then came upon us the Indian Mutiny; and men who had never doubted during the Russian campaign, though they felt that England must strain every nerve for victory, began to fear that the few who were there to bear the brunt must perish in the attempt. It was a common fear that if India was to belong to us for the future, India must be conquered a second time; and while men thought of this, their hearts fell within them as they remembered what must be the fate of the British men, and children, and women, who were doomed to suffer things many times worse than death. And there was a feeling by no means uncommon, and very deadly, that India would be lost for ever, and with it all the glory of England. That this idea prevailed in France, which had just been our ally, and in Russia, which had just been our enemy, and in the United States, which of all nations was the nearest akin to us, cannot be doubted. When men’s hearts are so heavy they show it in their faces rather than by their speech. There were months in 1857 when men in England hardly dared to speak aloud what they thought and{178} felt about India. But of Lord Palmerston it must be said that he was made of some stronger and coarser fabric than other men, better prepared for hard wear, and able to bear without detriment rain and snow and dirty weather. Through that period of the Indian Mutiny,—which must have been harder, we think, for an English Prime Minister to bear even than the temporary failures of the Crimea,—he never blanched.

It was said by the Edinburgh Review, just before the tidings of the Mutiny reached us, that “the past Session found Lord Palmerston covered with the glory of having trodden down the wine-press alone.” This was the very pinnacle of the column of praise which was raised to his honour on behalf of his steadfastness against Russia by those of the Press who supported his side in politics. But it was true. He had done it alone. If we look back we can find no other Minister who had not failed, or hesitated, or remained in the background. But yet we think that the effort made by him to suppress the Indian Mutiny was the greater of the two. It came easier to him because he had been made familiar with the efforts necessary for such work by the Russian war; and coming, as the Mutiny did, close after the Russian war, and dealing with matters less palpably open to the mind’s eye than the Russian quarrel, it created, with all its horrors and all its triumphs, a less abiding thoughtfulness. India had been ours, and must be ours. So we felt when India was again ours. But it had nearly come to pass that India, at any rate for the time, was not ours. But Palmerston went on governing the country through it all with apparent equanimity. In three months we had sent 30,000 troops to India, with all their horses, appurtenances, clothing, and armour. When we remember{179} the distance, the rapidity required, the scattered positions of the men to be collected, and of the transports needed, I think we may boast that no other country ever made such an effort.

After all, much of the hardest fighting was done by the army stationary in India before the troops from England arrived. It would be unfair to say even a few words about the mutiny without declaring this. Delhi had been taken from the mutineers. Outram, Havelock, the Lawrences, and Inglis had done their work. When all were true and all were heroes, there need be no jealousy of praise. But to Lord Canning, the son of Palmerston’s old tutor in politics, the Canning who had been so hard on Palmerston in the Don Pacifico debate, the Canning who had gone to India most unwillingly in obedience to Palmerston’s commands, the Canning to have said a word against whom required the self-annihilation of a Minister,[N] Canning who completed by his death his victory in the country he had been sent to govern,—to him and to those brave men whom the Mutiny, bursting from its swarthy ranks, had found in India, the first praise for crushing it is due.

Lord Palmerston in the Mansion House had to blow England’s trumpet in addressing the normal Mansion House audience. “An Englishman,” he said, “is not so fond as the people of some other countries are of uniforms, of steel scabbards, and of iron heels; but no nation can excel the English, either as officers or soldiers, in knowledge of the duties of the military profession, and in the zeal and ability with which those duties are performed; and whatever desperate deeds are to be{180} accomplished,—wherever superior numbers are to be boldly encountered and triumphantly overcome—wherever privations are to be encountered, wherever that which a soldier has to confront is individually or collectively to be found, there, I will venture to say, there is no nation on the face of the earth which can surpass,—I might, without too much national vanity, say, I believe there is no nation which can equal,—the people of the British islands. But, my Lord Mayor and gentlemen, while we all admire the bravery, the constancy, and the intrepidity of our countrymen in India, we must not forget to do justice also to our countrywomen. In the ordinary course of life the functions of women are to cheer the days of adversity, to soothe the hours of suffering, and to give additional brilliancy to the sunshine of prosperity; but our countrywomen in India have had occasion to show qualities of a higher and nobler kind, and when they have had either to sustain the perils of the siege, or endure the privations of a difficult escape, to forget their own sufferings in endeavouring to minister to the wants of others, the women of the United Kingdom have, wherever they have been found in India, d............