In November 1839 the miners of the Newport district of Monmouthshire assembled to the number of 10,000 under a tradesman called Frost and attempted to release from gaol one Vincent, who had been imprisoned for using seditious language. |Riots at Newport and elsewhere.| The mayor and magistrates of Newport, with a handful of soldiers, offered a gallant resistance; the rioters were dispersed with a loss of ten killed and fifty wounded, the mayor, Mr. Phillips, receiving two gunshot wounds. Frost and two others were afterwards convicted of high treason and sentenced to death. But the dawn of milder methods of government had begun: the death sentence was commuted by the Royal mercy to one of transportation for life: even that was subsequently relaxed, and Frost was allowed to return to England some years later to find himself and the Chartists an unquiet memory of the past.

But in spite of the punishment of the Newport rioters, and hundreds of others in different places, Chartism continued to spread until it became merged in the more intelligent and fruitful agitation for the repeal of the Corn Laws.

This great question was brought under the consideration of Parliament, in the session of 1839, by Lord Brougham in the Lords on February 18, and the following day by Mr. Charles Villiers in the Commons; but the motion for inquiry was negatived without a division in the former and by a majority of 189 in the latter. Both Parliament and country, however, were to hear plenty about the Corn Duties in the next few years.

The Whig Ministry were now approaching the end of their second year of office, and steadily losing favour in the country. They had earned the enmity of the Chartists by their apathy to further reform; and the novel advantage of Royal confidence in and affection for a Whig Prime Minister did not affect the general drift of middle-class opinion. Meanwhile, Peel was indefatigable on the platform securing popular support for the new Conservatism.

Drifting thus helplessly in the doldrums of unpopularity the Government suddenly foundered on April 9, the immediate cause being a Bill for the suspension of the Constitution of Jamaica. |Fall of the Ministry.| The second reading was carried, indeed, by a majority of five; but the resignation of the Ministry was immediately placed in Her Majesty’s hands and accepted. It put an end to an intolerable situation. Three days before the division Greville wrote in his diary: “The Government is at its last gasp: the result of the debate next week may possibly prolong its existence, as a cordial does that of a dying man, but it cannot go on. They are disunited, dissatisfied, and disgusted in the Cabinet.”

The Queen sent first for the Duke of Wellington, but he, having probably little relish for leading a Government without a majority in the House of Commons, excused himself on the grounds of his age and deafness, and advised Her Majesty to lay the task on Sir Robert Peel. That statesman replied, that having been party to a vote of the House which brought about the situation, nothing should make him recoil from the obvious difficulty of it, and he formed a Cabinet without delay. |Sir Robert Peel sent for.| Then arose a peculiar and unforeseen difficulty, known as “The Bedchamber Question.” |The “Bedchamber Question.”| Peel found no difficulty in filling up the important posts in the Government, until it was explained to him that the Court Offices were vacated with the Administrative ones, and that they also must be supplied. He took up a Red Book, as he afterwards explained in Parliament, learnt from it for the first time what were the different appointments, and submitted to the Queen a list of names to replace all except those below the rank of Lady of the Bedchamber. But Her Majesty had other views, and the reader will more readily understand her reluctance to part with those personal attendants, of whom she had grown fond, by remembering the singular isolation of her youth, and the very few acquaintances she possessed at the beginning of her reign.

A difficulty of such slender proportions seems one that might have been got round, but it was not to be. The Queen was inflexible, and Peel, on principle, resigned his office. |Melbourne recalled to Office.| Lord Melbourne and his colleagues were recalled; explanations followed in both Houses, and the incident disappeared in a cloud of angry gossip. Peel was relieved from a position the reverse of enviable, and Melbourne had to stand the brunt of a tirade from the relentless Brougham and resume the reins which he had allowed to slip from a somewhat reluctant hand.

As for the cause of dispute, it was not finally disposed of till after the Queen’s marriage, when, on the suggestion of Prince Albert, it was settled that on a change of Ministry the Queen should arrange for the voluntary resignation of any ladies whom, being relations or very intimate friends of leaders in opposition, it might, in the opinion of the Prime Minister, be inconvenient to retain in office.

It sometimes happens that Ministries which are least conspicuous by the brilliancy of their career or the talents of those who compose them, nevertheless confer the most lasting benefits on the nation. The crowning achievement of the Melbourne administration originated neither with a Minister, nor with one of those permanent officials upon whom Ministers rely to make up for their own inexperience of departmental work, but with a humble school teacher. Nobody at this day connects penny postage with the name of Mr. Spring Rice, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, who paved the way for it in the Budget of 1839, but it is inseparably associated with the memory of its inventor, Sir Rowland Hill. The son of a schoolmaster, Rowland had an extraordinary inborn love for arithmetic, and became mathematical master in his father’s school. |The Penny Post.| This natural talent, it is said, was directed to the study of Post Office statistics by an anecdote told of Coleridge, who happened to see a poor woman in the Lake district refuse to accept delivery of a letter from a postman because she could not afford to pay the postage—one shilling. Coleridge, hearing that the letter was from her brother, good-naturedly insisted on paying the fee, notwithstanding the woman’s reluctance; but no sooner was the postman’s back turned than she showed him that the letter consisted of nothing but a blank sheet. It had been agreed between her and her brother that he should send her such a blank sheet once a quarter so long as things went well with him, marking the cover so that she should not require to accept delivery, and that in this way she should get his mute message without need to pay postage. Hill detected the economic fallacy which opened the way to such innocent roguery, and rested not till he had devised means to remedy it. He published his design in pamphlet form in 1837, advancing the bold proposition that the smaller the fee charged for carrying letters the greater would be the multiplication of correspondence, and the larger the profit to the Department. He proposed an uniform charge upon letters of one penny a half ounce, irrespective of distance. It was the application to the public service of a commercial principle by which large fortunes have been repeatedly realised in private business, but the plan was unhesitatingly condemned by the Post Office authorities. The Postmaster-General, Lord Lichfield, spoke of it in the House of Lords as the wildest and most extravagant scheme of all the wild and extravagant ones he had ever listened to. Colonel Maberley, Secretary to the Post Office, declared the experiment was certain to fail, though he was of opinion that no obstruction should be placed in the way of it, lest the Government should afterwards be blamed for not giving it a trial. Lastly, Sydney Smith may be quoted as representing educated public opinion: “A million of revenue is given up,” he said, “to the nonsensical Penny Post Scheme, to please my old, excellent, and universally dissentient friend, Noah Warburton. I admire the Whig Ministry, and think they have done more good things than all the Ministries since the Revolution; but these concessions are sad and unworthy marks of weakness, and fill reasonable men with alarm.”

Mr. Warburton and Mr. Wallace were the two members of Parliament who most warmly advocated the project of Rowland Hill. But credit is due to the courage shown by Mr. Spring Rice, Chancellor of the Exchequer, who, in the face of a deficit of three-quarters of a million, was bold enough to adopt the scheme and make provision for it in his Budget. Sir Robert Peel and Mr. Goulbourn criticised the proposal mainly on the ground that it involved a risk of loss to the revenue which ought not to be incurred in the existing state of the finances; but on a division the resolution was carried by a majority of 102, and the Bill carrying it into effect subsequently passed without a division. This reform, the offspring of the genius of an obscure mathematical teacher, and so modestly brought to light, has since been adopted by every civilised community in the world. To realise the boon thereby conferred on commercial and general intercourse it is only necessary to recall the postal regulations in force in Great Britain previous to 1839. Letters could not be prepaid; the charge for postage varied according to distance, and also according to the weight, shape, and size of letters. Thus, a letter posted in London for Brighton cost the recipient a fee of eightpence; the rate from London to Aberdeen was 1s. 3½d., and to Belfast 1s. 4d. No wonder, then, that, in a time of expanding trade, the Chancellor of the Exchequer found himself supported in his proposal by countless petitions from commercial centres in favour of cheaper postage. But there was more than this: there was the flagrant injustice of the system of official franks. Members of the Government and of Parliament had the privilege of free postage, not only for their own letters but for those of their friends by simply writing their names on the cover. This privilege had grown to the dimensions of a gross abuse; people who enjoyed the friendship of a Minister were not the least shy of pestering him for franks; the revenue was defrauded, and those who were least able to bear the cost had to pay a high fee in order to recoup the Department for the loss on letters written by wealthy people.

Such being the case for reform from a popular point of view, it was hardly less urgent from a departmental one. The Post Office had then, as it has now, a monopoly of conveying correspondence; but the high rates charged had driven people to various means of infringing that monopoly. There had arisen all sorts of illegal and clandestine enterprises for carrying letters at cheap rates. It had been proved before the Committee which considered Mr. Hill’s scheme that five-sixths of the correspondence between London and Manchester had been smuggled for many years; one great firm having despatched sixty-seven letters by unlawful agency for every one that went through the Post Office. Between 1815 and 1835 the population had increased by thirty per cent., and the stage-coach duty by 128 per cent., yet the revenue of the Post Office had remained stationary.

The proposed reduction from an average rate of sixpence farthing to one penny was certainly a startling one. The Committee above referred to had recommended an uniform twopenny rate, but Spring Rice told the House of Commons that he had become convinced that the loss to the revenue (for no practical man, except, perhaps, Rowland Hill himself, doubted that loss there must be) would be less from a penny rate. He estimated in his Budget the sacrifice at about £700,000.

The wildest enthusiasts can never have contemplated what have been the actual results as revealed by the Post Office returns of 1895–6. In 1837 there were 80,000 letters and 44,000 newspapers delivered through the Post Office in the United Kingdom—a total of 124,000 deliveries. In the twelve months of 1895–6 the returns show that the deliveries (exclusive of telegrams) amounted to the stupendous figure of 3,031,553,196, representing 2,248 times the volume of business transacted in 1837, and producing a nett profit of £3,632,122. |Its remarkable Success.| Certain races of primitive savages, it is said, have never acquired the art of counting beyond two; everything beyond a pair being reckoned as “plenty.” Such figures as those quoted above baffle even ordinary civilised powers of calculation; very few persons are able to apprehend the idea of a million; much less can they grasp the reality of growth represented in thousands of millions. Perhaps, the magnitude of the Post Office business at the present day can be best illustrated by its miscarriages. The value of property found in letters opened in the Returned Letter Offices in 1896 amounted to £580,000.

The Penny Post, then, endures as the single masterpiece of the Melbourne Ministry, affording another example, if one were wanting, how men become famous for the achievements on which they pride themselves least. Macaulay, having returned from India at this time, had re-entered Parliament as member for Edinburgh, and joined the Cabinet as Secretary for War. Greville quotes him as having declared that he wished he could destroy all that he had written up to that date, for he thought “his time had been thrown away upon opuscula unworthy of his talents.” He had resolved to apply himself to serious work—the History of England. But much of his literary renown rests on these opuscula: most people esteem Macaulay the essayist far more highly than Macaulay the historian or Macaulay the Minister. Greville himself, in relating this anecdote, unconsciously illustrates the inability of men to judge of their own performances. Speculating what Macaulay might have been “if he had wasted his time and frittered away his intellect as I have done mine,” the diarist proceeds, “if I had been carefully trained and subjected to moral discipline, I might have acted a creditable and useful part.” Possibly; but in that case the journal, by which alone Greville is remembered, had never been written.

Before the close of the year announcement was made of an event of the highest importance, which was to affect in a very large degree the material progress of the nation as well as the character and happiness of the monarch. |Betrothal of the Queen.| On November 23 the Queen held a Privy Council at Buckingham Palace, and made known her intention to marry her cousin, the Prince Albert of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha.

“About eighty Privy Councillors were present,” writes Greville, “the folding doors were thrown open and the Queen came in, attired in a plain morning gown, but wearing a bracelet containing Prince Albert’s picture. She read the declaration in a clear, sonorous, sweet-toned voice, but her hands trembled so excessively that I wonder she was able to read the paper which she held.”

Prince Albert, the second son of Ernest, Duke of Saxe-Coburg-Saalfeld, by Louisa, daughter of Augustus, Duke of Saxe-Gotha-Attenburg, was very nearly the same age as the Queen, having been born on August 26, 1819. Royal alliances are so often the outcome of purely political or prudential calculation that people are apt to assume that the deeper personal feelings are not allowed to weigh with the persons most concerned; but young men and women are not the less human because they are born in the purple, and Queen Victoria’s marriage was as much a love match as that of any village maid. |Character of Prince Albert.| But she had set her affections on one of a disposition and habits not commonly to be found in any station of life. Not only was Prince Albert remarkably handsome and amiable, but he had sedulously cultivated natural gifts of a very high order. He had made himself a good musician, he had penetrated far in natural science, made a special study of social politics, and was well read in general literature. He was known to have steered a clear course among the temptations which peculiarly beset a young man of princely rank and fortune. All this he might have been, and yet, had there not been something to balance it, he might have proved no fitting consort of the young Queen of the English. But there was another side to his character. Erudite, he was completely without the fastidious or shy manner which sometimes imparts a blemish to learning, for his manner in society was extremely fascinating; of artistic tastes, he was soon to prove himself capable in business. Last, but not least, in view of an English public, he was an accomplished horseman, and devoted to field sports.

The Queen opened Parliament in person on January 16, 1840, and her speech included the formal announcement of her betrothal to Prince Albert. |Announcement to Parliament.| Strangely enough the first criticism came from the Duke of Wellington, of all her subjects the least likely to question Her Majesty’s decision. He complained that it ought to have been officially declared that Prince Albert was a Protestant, and he moved to insert the word “Protestant” in the Address in reply to the speech from the throne. Lord Melbourne thought the amendment was superfluous, but it was agreed to without a division.

Less harmonious were the proceedings of the following week in the other House, when Lord John Russell moved for a grant of £50,000 a year to the Queen’s consort, to be paid out of the Consolidated Fund. |Debates.| Colonel Sibthorpe, a Tory member, well-known for his eccentricity, moved an amendment to substitute £30,000, which was supported by Sir Robert Peel and the Opposition. Lord John resisted it with great warmth, declaring that “no Sovereign of this country had been insulted in such a manner as her present Majesty had been”; but the Government were badly defeated by a combination of Tories and Radicals, and Colonel Sibthorpe’s amendment was carried by a majority of 104.

The fact is that people who have grown up familiar only with the present relations of the Royal family with the public can hardly realise how prevalently censorious opinions were held regarding the Queen, and how much prejudice Prince Albert had to live down. |A famous duel.| On the 17th of the very month in which these debates took place, a duel was fought between Mr. Horsman, Whig member for Cockermouth, and Mr. Bradshaw, who had used discourteous and disloyal language about the Queen in a speech made at Canterbury. Horsman had said that Bradshaw had the tongue of a traitor and the heart of a coward. After an exchange of shots, the seconds induced Bradshaw to retract and apologise. It may be mentioned here that the abolition of duelling was one of the first objects to which Prince Albert devoted his efforts after his naturalisation. He proposed the substitution of Courts of Honour to arbitrate in quarrels between gentlemen, and though he did not prevail on the Commander-in-Chief to establish these, there can be no doubt that the Prince’s personal influence was greatly the cause of suppressing a system which was in full force during the early years of the reign.

The Queen’s marriage to Prince Albert was celebrated on February 10, 1840. During the summer of that year the Queen was fired at by a lunatic potboy as she drove up Constitution Hill with the Prince, but happily escaped all injury. |The Queen fired at.| One sometimes hears doubts expressed about the necessity for the elaborate precautions taken for the safety of Royal personages, who, it is supposed by some people, might safely trust themselves more freely to the goodwill of their subjects. But there is nothing more certain than this—that, however popular or deserving a monarch may be, there are always crazed or desperate individuals with schemes of insult or violence, waiting an opportunity to carry them out.

The relations of Great Britain and the East India Company with China had for some years been drifting into very unfriendly conditions, arising out of the opium trade. The Chinese Government had strictly prohibited the importation of opium—a measure commanding the sincere sympathy of those in this country who condemned all use of opium as an unmitigated physical and moral evil. But India derived enormous profits from the opium trade, and her traders used every device to evade the restrictions. It was suspected, and the Foreign Secretary, Lord Palmerston, endorsed the suspicion, that the policy of the Chinese Government had nothing to do with the morality of the trade, but was concerned only to protect the native opium industry. |War declared with China.| The wheels of diplomacy ran heavily between the “Heavenly Dynasty” and the British Foreign Office for many years, till at last they were brought to a stand by the sudden outbreak of war. Lord Palmerston had appointed three superintendents to look after the interests of British traders in Chinese ports, and invested them with a semi-diplomatic character. Thus it came to pass that when, after months of procrastination, Her Majesty’s Government at last announced that “they could not interfere for the purpose of enabling British subjects to violate the laws of the country with which they traded,” thus practically forbidding the opium trade, Captain Elliott, the chief superintendent, read between the lines of the despatch, and, on the Chinese authorities seizing a large quantity of opium in British vessels, requested the Governor of India to send warships for the protection of Englishmen trading in China. The request was promptly complied with by the despatch of two frigates, the Volage and the Hyacinth, which attacked a Chinese fleet of twenty-nine junks below Hong Kong, blew up one of them, sunk three, and knocked the rest about in fine style.

A strong armament of fourteen warships and several transports was assembled at Singapore, the command of which was given to Admiral Elliott. |Capture of Chusan.| Before his arrival, however, in the Melville, 74, the second in command, Commodore Sir J. Gordon Bremer, captured the island of Chusan, on July 5, with its capital—a walled city six miles in circumference. Negotiations for peace were then opened, but the Chinese authorities prolonged them on so many various pretexts, while busily erecting batteries at the Bogue, near Canton, that Commodore Bremer broke off the proceedings and prepared for action. |Bombardment of the Bogue Forts.| The Bogue Forts were bombarded, and two of them were captured on January 7, 1841; after further fruitless parleying the bombardment was re-opened on February 19, and the whole chain of defences were taken. After each successive engagement, Captain Elliott, the civil superintendent, attempted to obtain a pacific settlement with the enemy; but forbearance was invariably interpreted by the Mandarin as a sign of weakness, and it was not till the troops under Sir Hugh Gough, had fought their way to the walls of Canton that Captain Elliott was able to announce that terms of peace had been agreed to, just forty-five minutes before a general attack on Canton was to have taken place.

|Peace concluded under the Walls of Nankin.| Once more peace negotiations broke down: hostilities were resumed; Chusan was re-occupied; Amoy, believed by the Chinese to be impregnable, was taken by assault on August 25, 1842; the capture of Chinghai and Ningpo followed; and when Sir H. Gough appeared before Nankin the Chinese Government finally agreed to accept the terms imposed as the conditions of peace. Five millions and three-quarters sterling were exacted as an indemnity; the island of Hong Kong was ceded to Great Britain, and five principal Chinese ports were thrown open to British trade.

CHAPTER III.
1841–1846.

Unpopularity of the Whigs—Fall of the Melbourne Ministry—Peel’s Cabinet—The Afghan War—Murder of Sir A. Burnes and Sir W. Macnaghten—The Retreat from Cabul—Annihilation of the British Force—The Corn Duties—The Pioneers of Free Trade—Failure of Potato Crop in Ireland—Lord John Russell’s conversion to Free Trade—Peel and Repeal—Rupture of the Tory Party—The Corn Duties repealed—Defeat and Resignation of the Government—Review of Peel’s Administration.

THE closing months of the Melbourne Ministry afford melancholy matter for chronicle. The Government went on steadily losing popularity in the country and forfeiting respect in Parliament. |Unpopularity of the Whigs| The sword, long impending, descended at last. Mr. Baring, who had succeeded Spring Rice as Chancellor of the Exchequer, had to confess to a deficiency in his Budget of nearly two millions, which he proposed to meet by a re-adjustment of the sugar and timber duties, which brought about the defeat of the Government by a majority of thirty-six. Still, Ministers did not resign. Russell had determined at length to make a bid for the Free Trade vote, and gave notice of his intention to propose a permanent reduction in the duty on corn. But the announcement fell flatly; people only saw in this sudden conversion another desperate effort to retain office, for the Whigs hitherto had been inflexible in resistance to Free Trade demands. Melbourne had sworn roundly that of all the mad projects he had ever heard of the surrender of duties was the maddest; and Russell had been equally explicit, though employing fewer expletives. The duty on imported corn had been established by legislation in 1815, and was on a sliding scale according to current prices. The impost was 27s. on each quarter of wheat when the price fell below 60s., and diminished in proportion as the price rose till it stood at 1s. when the price of the quarter was 73s. and upwards.

The next move in Parliament was a vote of no confidence, moved by Sir Robert Peel, and then at last Lord John Russell announced that Her Majesty had been advised to dissolve Parliament immediately. |Fall of the Melbourne Ministry.| Writs were made returnable on August 19, by which date the political tables had been completely turned. The Conservatives who went to the country in a minority of thirty returned with a majority of seventy-six. It is notable that in recording this result the Annual Register for the first time exchanges the title of Whigs for that of Liberals.

Before following the fortunes of the Administration formed by Sir Robert Peel, reference must be made to mournful news which, while people at home were crowding round the hustings and polling booths, were slowly approaching this country from Central Asia. |Peel’s Cabinet.| The most serious reverse to British policy and the greatest disaster to British arms which have happened in the present century were the outcome of events which may thus briefly be recapitulated. In 1837 Captain Alexander Burnes, Orientalist and traveller, arrived as British agent at Cabul, capital of the province of that name, in the north of Afghanistan. The Prince of that fragment of the ancient Empire of Ahmed Shah was Dost Mahomed Khan, an usurper, it is true, but a popular hero, a soldier of remarkable ability, and a sagacious and bold ruler. Dost professed the friendliest feelings towards England, but, for some reasons now unknown, was profoundly distrusted by the Foreign Office. Captain Burnes thoroughly trusted Dost, but his repeated assurance failed to convince his employers that in his disputes with neighbouring States, Dost greatly preferred relying on English influence to accepting the advances continually made to him by Russia and Persia. Burnes was instructed to regard Dost as dangerously treacherous, and at last Lord Auckland, Governor-General of India, made a treaty with Runjeet Singh, hostile to Dost, and with the purpose of restoring Shah Soojah-ool-Moolk, whom Dost had deposed from the throne of Cabul. |The Afghan War.| A British force invaded Cabul, overthrew the brave Dost, and enthroned Soojah, whom nobody wanted. But Dost Mahomed was a foe of no ordinary mettle. On November 2, 1840, he encountered the allied force of the English and Shah Sooja at Purwandurrah, and if he did not actually win the battle, the gallantry of his Afghan cavalry caused it to be drawn. Dost, however, was too wise to believe that he could resist for long the force of England. On the evening after the battle he rode into his enemy’s camp and placed his sword in the hand of Sir W. Macnaghten, the British Envoy at Soojah’s Court. Dost was honourably treated, his sword was returned to him, he was sent to India and provided with a residence and pension.

But Dost was the darling of his people. They hated Soojah, whom the English had forced on them, and they rose in revolt against him. |Murder of Sir A. Burnes and Sir W. Macnaghten.| Burnes was the earliest victim, for although, in truth, he had all along stood stoutly for Dost, the insurgents believed him to have betrayed their ruler. He and his brother and all their party, man, woman, and child, were hacked to pieces. Akbar Khan, second and favourite son of Dost Mahomed, now put himself at the head of the insurrection, and the shameful part of the story began. Hitherto, there had been blunders enough in English dealings with this brave people: but there is nothing to blush for in blunders provided they are clear of disgrace; one cannot, however, ignore the truth that, after a few weeks’ fighting, British troops, having been repeatedly beaten, became so demoralised that their officers could not get them to stand before the fierce Afghans. General Elphinstone, the chief in command, was an experienced, able soldier; but his health had broken down before the insurrection began, and he had written to the Governor-General begging to be relieved of his command, which he felt he was physically unfit to continue. Unfortunately there was some delay in appointing his successor, and the trouble came before Elphinstone could be relieved. Against the personal courage of Brigadier Shelton, the second in command, no reflections have ever been made, but he proved lamentably supine at moments when prompt action was most required. Affairs went from bad to worse with the British force in cantonments outside Cabul, until at last Elphinstone, grievously weakened by disease, could be brought to contemplate no course but abject surrender. Abject surrender! not quite unconditional, it is true, but on most humiliating terms, including the release of Dost Mahomed and the immediate evacuation of Cabul by the British.

Bad as this was there was darker disgrace to come. The evacuation was delayed—on the part of the British from a foolish “Micawber” hope that “something would turn up”—on the part of the Afghans, no doubt, in order that the advent of winter should make the passes impracticable. Macnaghten, the British Envoy, seems to have been infected by the prevailing demoralisation, and fell into a trap prepared for him by Akbar Khan. At the very moment when he (Macnaghten) was negotiating openly with the chiefs in Cabul he entered into a conspiracy with Akbar to destroy them, to establish Shah Soojah as nominal monarch, and to secure the appointment of Akbar as Vizier. Macnaghten’s punishment made no long tarrying, for Akbar was acting a subtle part. Macnaghten, accompanied by three officers, rode out one morning to a conference with Akbar on the west bank of the Cabul river. It was a solitary place, as befitted the discussion of the contemplated treachery, but they had not been conferring long before they were surrounded by a crowd of armed country people. The British officers remonstrated with Akbar; at that moment Macnaghten and his companions were seized from behind; a scuffle took place; Akbar drew a pistol, a gift from the Envoy himself, and shot him in the body. Macnaghten fell from his horse and was instantly hewn in pieces; Captain Trevor was killed also, and the other two officers, Mackenzie and Laurence, were carried off to the town.

Deeper and deeper grows the horror—more profound the shame—as the story proceeds. General Elphinstone and Brigadier Shelton lay in their cantonments with 4,500 fighting men, with guns, and camp followers to the number of 12,000. Macnaghten’s bloody remains were dragged in triumph through the streets of Cabul, yet not an arm was raised to avenge him. Major Eldred Pottinger was for cutting their way out and dying on the field, but no one would listen to him: negotiations were opened with Akbar Khan, and the British force were allowed to march out, leaving all their guns except six, all their treasure and six officers as hostages. |The Retreat from Cabul.| They started, upwards of 16,000 souls, to march through the stupendous Khyber Pass to Jellalabad in the very depth of winter. Akbar Khan’s safe-conduct proved the shadow of a shade; either he would not, or, as seems to have been the case, he could not, protect them from hordes of fanatic Ghilzies, who hovered along the route—shooting, stabbing, mutilating the wretched fugitives. Akbar, indeed rode with Elphinstone, and probably it was true, as he declared, that he could do nothing with his handful of horse to keep off the infuriated hillmen. At last it became evident that a choice must be made of a few who might be saved either from a bloody death or from perishing of cold in the snow and searching wind. Akbar proposed to take all the women and children into his own custody and convey them to Peshawur. The awful nature of the dilemma may be imagined when such a proposal was agreed to. Lady Macnaghten was placed in charge of the assassin of her husband: with her went Lady Sale, Mrs. Trevor, and eight other Englishwomen; and, as an extreme favour, a few married men were allowed to accompany their wives. General Elphinstone and two other officers were also taken as hostages. The rest struggled on as far as the Jugdulluck Pass. Then came the end: the hillsides were crowded with fierce mountaineers; the 44th Regiment were ordered to the front; they mutinied and threatened to shoot their officers, broke their ranks, and were cut down in detail by the Afghans. A general massacre followed. |Annihilation of the British Force.| Out of more than 16,000 souls who marched out of Cabul, a sorry score of fugitives were all that left that horrible defile alive. Sixteen miles from Jellalabad, only six remained: still the murdering knife was plied, until, at last, one solitary haggard man, Dr. Brydon, rode into Jellalabad to tell of the literal annihilation of the army of Cabul, and announce to General Sale, commanding in that place, that his wife was in the hands of Akbar Khan.