Chapter LVIII: {victoria. 1846} (2)

During the progress of all this misery and turbulence, and while the government required to put forth all its energies to mitigate the one and suppress the other, Ireland was torn by political factions, and the voice of party was never for a moment silent. On previous pages the reader will find the state of Irish parties depicted as they stood in 1845. Throughout the year 1846 some new phases of the political spirit of the people were presented. O’Connell still declared that the only remedy for Ireland was the repeal of the union; and that while he gave a modified support to a whig government, so long as it sincerely attempted the melioration of Irish circumstances, he merely did so to prove that he was not a partisan, and in the hope of eventually bringing all men to believe that no effectual redress for the wrongs of Ireland was to be expected from the imperial legislature—that Ireland’s only hope lay in “a native parliament.” This the great agitator declared he would obtain by moral force only, if the people of Ireland abstained from rebellion, and preserved the moral attitude of a united demand for the repeal of the legislative union between Great Britain and Ireland. Gradually there arose in “the Repeal Association” a more spirited section, which went by the designation of “Young Ireland.” These men laughed at O’Connell’s moral force doctrines, or denounced them with disdain. At first they professed unbounded respect for himself, and an approval of his aims, but an irreconcileable antipathy to his measures. They maintained the right of all men to use arms in defence or in the assertion of liberty; proclaimed that Ireland was too noble a country, and the Irish too fine a race, to be subjected to a provincial _status_. “Ireland a nation—not a province,” so often proclaimed by O’Connell, became in earnest the watchword of this new and vigorous party. They derided the time-serving and place-hunting of O’Connell’s partisans, and declared that, by asking places from the English government for his followers, O’Connell had corrupted and dishonoured his country. They also opposed “the rent,” which O’Connell received as a tribute from the people, and a means of enabling him to employ various agencies for the prosecution of his labours. He had given up the practice of his profession, to him most lucrative, in order to devote himself wholly to what he believed to be the good of his country, and, accordingly, the people contributed liberally to enable him, as the leader of the Roman Catholics of Ireland, to hold his place without indignity in the face of the parliament and people of England. In theory this contribution was at all events creditable to the generosity and zeal of the Irish people, and no discredit to O’Connell himself. Nor can it be alleged with truth that he accepted it from mercenary motives, or used it selfishly. His fortune was small; his position required large expenditure; and it is notorious that the money he received was not hoarded, nor used to enrich his family, but employed for political and often charitable purposes which had the entire approbation of the donors. The Young Irelanders, however, at first furtively and anonymously, afterwards more or less openly, and, finally, in the columns of the newspaper press, and in the Repeal Association itself, stigmatised the rent as mercenary. This new party divided influence with “the Liberator” upon the boards of the Corn Exchange, and in public meetings generally, and was the cause of great distraction in the councils and operations of the Repeal Association. At first they treated O’Connell as conscientiously wrong-headed on the subjects of moral and physical force; but they gradually widened their ground of attack, and suggested that he was actuated by corrupt motives, not for his own advantage, but in order to obtain places for a host of needy adventurers who constituted what was termed his “tail.” Finally, they denounced him as a coward, and the abettor therefore of a cowardly policy: that being afraid to place himself at the head of his armed countrymen, he affected to abhor bloodshed, and held out a hope which he knew to be delusive—that Ireland could conquer the restoration of her legislature by moral, in contradistinction to physical force.

Before noticing further the effect of these differences upon O’Connell and the Irish repeal party, it is desirable to glance at the character and talents of the leading Young Irelanders, as these men will occupy much prominence in the history of succeeding years. Thomas Davis was generally alleged to be the founder of this section of the repeal party. He was only a student in Trinity College, Dublin, when he first entered upon political life. He imbibed early in youth a passionate love of country, and retained it until his death, which, to the general regret, occurred in a few years after he had entered upon political life. Mr. Davis was a poet, although not of a high order; several specimens of good ballad composition are amongst his remains. He cultivated classic literature with success; as an antiquary and an historian acquired reputation; wrote energetically and fluently; spoke in public with earnestness and force, but had none of the graces of the finished orator, and he despised all “rhetorical artifices.” In conversation he was persuasive, but in public debate deficient in this quality; and while he possessed courage to confront mobs, or dictators, as he did also to meet an armed host in his country’s service, he was not characterised by that presence of mind in public discussion, so necessary for effective repartee and popular power. He was in religion a Protestant, and a member of the Established Church; but it is obvious, from his various papers in connection with Irish affairs, that he was not a very earnest Protestant, and was entirely unacquainted with theological studies. His letters and speeches also show that he was not conversant with political economy, and that his social views were unsound. He was a man of many excellences, a true friend, an amiable companion, an honest and brave patriot, a gentleman, a scholar, and a _litterateur_.

The next most notable person among the leaders of the Young Irelanders was William Smith O’Brien. Like Thomas Davis, his integrity was indisputable. A member, and the representative of probably the oldest family in Europe, descended from the celebrated Brien Boroighome, who was monarch of Ireland in the twelfth century, he was proudly jealous of the honour of his lineage and of his name, and never did man bear a proud name with more unsullied honour than O’Brien. He mourned over the sufferings of his country with a tender and compassionate heart, and he ascribed these sufferings to bad government. It was his desire to remove all grievances by constitutional means, but his experience as a member of the imperial parliament led him to believe that Ireland never could receive proper legislative consideration until the union was repealed. Perceiving that O’Connell’s agitation was never likely to effect that object, despising the mean and corrupt practices by which that agitation was attended, and being filled with horror at the occurrence of so much agrarian crime, he came to the conclusion that an armed attempt to sever Ireland from Great Britain was the duty of Irishmen, and the only hope left for her political or social redemption. Mr. O’Brien was a member of the Church of England, and his sympathies were with the evangelical section. He was well acquainted with the great fundamental differences between the church of Rome and Protestant communions, and was conscientiously and firmly a Protestant, while his mental habits and religious principles alike made him the consistent friend of religious liberty. It was generally supposed that his views of government were monarchical; and as he was the undoubted representative of the Irish monarchy, it was also believed that he had sufficient ambition to look forward to the time when independent Ireland would restore to him his family honours. The personal and moral influence of Mr. O’Brien were such as to qualify him to be a leader. He was much loved, and deserved to be so. As a man he was amiable, as a gentleman courteous, as a friend true. Intellectually, he was not fit to conduct a powerful party through great dangers. Scholarly and accomplished, he was yet not profoundly read, nor did he possess any great power as a writer or speaker. He could not shake the senate like Grattan, Flood, or Curran, nor could he move the popular will by his pen, like Moore or Davis. Whatever he undertook for Ireland was in the spirit of a patriot, and his courage was as unquestionable as his truth. He had studied too little the character of his countrymen, and the political influence of their religious predilections, or he probably would never have embarked upon the stormy sea of the repeal agitation. Had he pondered deeply the philosophy of Irish character, and of the Protestant and Roman Catholic religions, by which the people were so extensively and sincerely influenced, he must have foreseen that the Irish Roman Catholic population would never enter upon any political enterprise to which their priests were opposed; that the priests would never favour any political scheme that did not comprise the ascendancy of Rome; and that the Irish Protestants, deeply and thoroughly convinced of that fact, would not extensively join any confederacy for political purposes where the priesthood could possibly exercise any authority. All these things William Smith O’Brien, from his position as an Irish Protestant gentleman, ought to have known; knowing these things, he never could have plunged into the raging surge of an Irish popular insurrection. He meant honestly, failed signally, and suffered himself to be involved in a hapless enterprise, because he had not sufficiently studied the people among whom he lived, nor the religious influences to which they were subjected.

A third leader of this party was Thomas Meagher, who afterwards called himself O’Meagher, son of a wealthy and respectable Roman Catholic citizen at Waterford. Mr. Meagher was the youngest of all the Young Ireland leaders.

He had been educated at the Jesuit College, Stonyhurst, Lancashire, where it would appear that one principle undermined another in his education; for while he came forth a Roman Catholic politician and a patriot, he found that the consistent profession of the one came into such frequent collision with the other, that his honest and manly mind could not reconcile them, and, as some regarded it, he sacrificed his creed to his country. Sir Jonah Barrington represents the Roman Catholic leaders of his day as sacrificing their country to their church. Thomas Meagher certainly appeared to perform the converse of this. His enunciations of religious opinion were boldly liberal, and utterly incompatible with the ascendancy of his own or any other church. In this respect, as, indeed, in every other, he preserved throughout his course a most laudable consistency. He probably comprehended the principles of civil and religious liberty better than any other member of the Young Ireland confederacy. Young Meagher was full of ardour for the cause of repeal. Like Davis and Smith O’Brien (to both of whom he was attached by the tenderest friendship), he believed it to be the salvation of his country. His soul was inflamed with love of her, and he consecrated his genius and his life to her resuscitation by the modes which alone appeared to him calculated to restore her from political death. Intellectually, Mr. Meagher was superior to any other leader of the party. Davis had neither the compass nor versatility of Meagher, who was the only finished orator of the remarkable group of men whom he intellectually outshone. Some of his orations are as chaste and fervent as Emmet’s, as rich and varied as Curran’s, as intellectual as Grattan’s, as logical as Flood’s, and as graceful and eloquent as Shiel’s. There are few specimens of political oratory in the English language which rival some of the speeches of this young tribune. He was almost as gifted with his pen as with his tongue. His letters abound with pathos, and poetry of thought and feeling; his descriptions are graphic and lifeful; his analysis of character accurate and discriminating; his aspirations noble and pure. There was a pleasing fascination in his oratory and writing which never passed away. One can hardly think of his sad story without remembering also the simile of his national poet:—

“You may break, you may ruin the vase if you will,
But the scent of the roses will hang round it still.”

John Mitchell was another remarkable member of this fraternity. He was a solicitor, a Protestant, and a Dissenter. He was the most fiery of all “the rebels,” as these agitators ultimately became. Mitchell was a native of Ulster, and possessed much of the spirit of the old Presbyterian United Irishmen of 1798; indeed, some of their leaders were his relations. He possessed a vigorous intellect, great energy of thought and action, overbearing-purpose, and unflinching courage. His information was not extensive, nor his judgment profound, and yet he was a well-educated, well-read, and very thoughtful, reflective man. He was adapted to be the sole leader of an insurrection where the object might be clear, the undertaking desperate, and the work short. His nature was not adapted either to lay an extensive plan, or co-operate with other men of mental power in the execution of such. He was crotchetty and impracticable, a man of rash judgment and hasty action-as brave and as tenacious as a bulldog. In private life he was gentle and loving; it was easy, as a friend or companion, to argue with John Mitchell, but impossible to co-operate with him as a compatriot. He had not the mind of a statesman, nor had he the prudence and policy requisite for a popular leader anywhere, much less in Ireland, at a crisis of her history so peculiar. This gentleman did much to precipitate the insurrection which drew down upon Ireland, so soon after the period of which we write, disgrace and ridicule. Like Smith O’Brien, he did not thoroughly understand the people he was to lead, nor those of his countrymen to whom he and they were so certain to be opposed, nor did he compute the religious prepossessions by which those distinct parties were respectively influenced. Mr. Mitchell was nominally a Unitarian in his religious creed, but he held very lax notions of this theology, and verged to Deism.

His views of political economy were erroneous and impracticable; yet he seemed to pride himself upon his absurd economical theories. He seemed to have no fixed views of government; he was neither monarchist, aristocrat, nor republican: his opinions seemed to be incompatible with all organised government, except a popular despotism, such as the French empire exemplified. Hatred to England, her name, race, and institutions, seems to have amounted to a monomania with him; yet he was not himself of Celtic lineage. His intolerance of opinion and rashness of action would have been utterly unendurable, were it not for the directness of his aims, the sincerity of his motives, the disinterestedness of his spirit, and the suavity of his disposition. The only other member of the Young Ireland party deserving notice as a chief was Charles Gavin Duffy, the editor and proprietor of the _Nation_ newspaper. Mr. Duffy was a Roman Catholic, and professed unbounded respect for the priests. He was generally suspected of coquetting with them to secure their patronage of the Young Ireland cause, and that at heart he despised the popular subserviency to them. There was much in his speeches and literary articles to confirm this view, but there was also a great deal to lead to the belief that he was at heart “a priest’s man.” Certainly their reverences did not think, or, at all events, appear to think him, a very particular friend to their order, for they frequently opposed the circulation of his paper, and denounced himself. He bravely,-’-but respectfully battled with them, and lost the game-the circulation of his paper fell as the Roman Catholic tone of it was lowered. Whether this circumstance had any influence, as was alleged, it is beyond doubt that, while he continued to maintain his young Ireland theories, he became more chary of combat with the clergy, and no paper put forth a more wild and daring ultra-montanism than the Dublin _Nation_, at the very time that its columns were filled with passionate poetry dedicated to the rights of country and of kind. Articles asserting that all Irishmen should be held equal before God and the law, and that Orange ascendancy and all party ascendancy was destructive to Ireland, were strangely in contiguity with others asserting the most despotic claims for the church of Rome that ever were put forth in her name. On the whole, the inference might be fairly drawn from the writings and speeches of Mr. Duffy that he hated England with an indiscriminating and malignant rancour; that her peculiar virtues were as hateful to him as her vices, her glorious deeds as her errors; and that he hated her for the power with which she supported a certain degree of civil and religious liberty, as much as from any grievances of which his country had to complain, or any distaste he entertained to her race, her habits, or the idiosyncracies of thought by which her people were characterised. He was anxious to see his country independent and prosperous, and in order to be so, wished to see a severance from England, and a full and unmitigated ascendancy of the Roman Catholic religion. Personally, Mr. Duffy was too generous, kind-hearted, and manly to persecute, and would have been among the first to endanger himself by interposing to protect another from the chain or brand of the persecutor; but the tone of his writings, and the writings of those who found readiest access to the columns of his journal, was relentlessly bigoted. If mobs fell upon zealous, or, it may be, over-zealous clergymen or Scripture-readers, the Nation always extenuated the ruffianism, and abused the objects of popular violence. Some reason for this course, applicable only to the particular case, or to a class of cases under which it was ranged, was always relied upon in justification of these bitter outbreaks of intolerance, but the paragraphs in which the vituperation found vent always disclosed some bigoted principle which constituted the core of the article. O’Connell obtained an unhappy celebrity for his violence in religious disputation, but there was always a waggery in his most virulent sectarian harangues which relieved them, and left the impression that his bigotry was professional or forensic rather than heartfelt, but the _Nation_ newspaper allowed no humour to shed a ray of relief upon the dark sentences of its intolerance. If indomitable fortitude, endurance, and perseverance could win a cause, Charles Gavin Duffy would have secured all for which he afterwards struggled and suffered. The political economy of Mr. Duffy, judging from the columns of the _Nation_, was not much more enlightened than that of his coadjutors.

Such were the men who constituted the leaders of the Young Ireland section of the Repeal Association. There were others who possessed eloquence, courage, and patriotism, but they did not occupy the front rank. With this fresh, youthful, earnest, intellectual, and uncompromising body of young men O’Connell had to compete almost single-handed; for although he was well supported by the priests, and by the old hacks of the association, he alone could confront intellectually so gifted an array of antagonists, or maintain, with any chance of victory, his side in the logomachy which was perpetually proceeding within the circle of the Repeal Association. Moore, in one of his melodies, represents the demon of discord as annually appearing in the Boyne, and casting forth the burning arrows which were ignited by his breath; but the scene of the fiery fiend’s operations might be well supposed as changed to “Conciliation Hall,” and his arrows thence flung over the inflammable isle. However indifferent the loyalists might be to the conflicts between Old Ireland and Young Ireland, the government could not be so, for “O’Connell’s tail” was, if no ornament, of some use on the ministerial benches. O’Connell denounced the Whigs, but intrigued to keep them in power, or help them to obtain it. The old Ireland party had votes in parliament, and gave them with more or less fidelity on the side of Lord John’s administration; whereas the Young Irelanders had yet to gain the heart, if not the ear of their country, and were not recognised as a power, except so far as they constituted an _imperium in imperio_ within the circle of the Repeal Association. The bolder doctrines of this young party tended also to inspire a spirit of determined and organised revolt, which the government could not observe without concern, and the temper of the people was so embittered by the feuds of their leaders, as to be at least an unfavourable set-off against the probability that these contests would impair the moral influences of those who waged them. As a specimen of the state of feeling between these two parties, the proceedings of the Repeal Association for June 22nd may be adduced. At that time Sir Robert Peel was still in office, if not in power; but every one in Ireland believed that the Whigs would soon resume place, and that O’Connell would pass from the sphere of unqualified opposition to that of qualified support. The Young Irelanders took advantage of these impressions to weaken O’Connell’s influence as a leader. This cut him to the heart: he received the tidings in London, and chafed under the vigilant restraint which this opposition in his own parliament placed him as to the policy he might adopt at St. Stephen’s. He wrote to the association a letter, which showed his annoyance and apprehension; the following is an extract, the most pertinent to the purpose for which the reference is made:—“It is with the bitterest regret and deepest sorrow that I witness the efforts which are made by some of our juvenile members to create dissension and circulate distractions amongst the repealers. It is manifest that the great majority of the Repeal Association must exert themselves strenuously to support the association, or the persons to whom I allude will divide its ranks, and finally destroy the association itself. For my poor part, I will not be an idle spectator of such a struggle. ’Tis true that the people may be induced to desert me, but I never will desert the people. I perceive that it is—I will not use the proper term—but I will say, most unhandsomely suggested that, in the event of the Whigs coming into power, the repeal cause is to be abandoned, or postponed, or compromised. I utterly deny the assertion. While I live the repeal cause shall never be abandoned, postponed, or compromised, to advance any persons to power, to support any party or faction. I have long since; nailed the colours of repeal to the mast, and they shall, during my life, never be taken down, unless to cover the entry of the Irish members into the Irish parliament in College Green.”

The contests between the two sections of repealers ended in the secession of the Young Irelanders from the Repeal Association. O’Connell was at heart glad of this, for his physical and intellectual energies were flagging, and the constant tantalising to which he was subjected in the association by these young men irritated his nervous system, and impaired his health. He made a show of conciliation, and sent a Roman Catholic clergyman of considerable importance, the Rev. Dr. Miley, to open negotiations with Smith O’Brien, whom he did not hesitate publicly to declare was the only man of weight among them. O’Brien was not to be won by the voice of the charmer, and O’Connell became furious, attacking the literary men, who principally led the Young Irelanders, in terms which gave offence to the whole press, and strengthened the ranks of his opponents. The Whigs treated the Young Irelanders contemptuously, but endeavoured by every means in their power to conciliate the old repeal party. Not only was the arms bill dismissed from parliament, but place and patronage was at the beck of O’Connell; and many of his followers, notwithstanding their anti-English feeling, and the need of their services which they supposed their country had, accepted situations in England and the colonies. The magistrates who had been dismissed by Sir Robert Peel’s government for attending repeal meetings, or joining the association, were all restored to the commission of the peace. Dublin Castle unbarred its venerable portals to those who had ceased to be welcome there, because of their connection with the repeal agitation. O’Connell’s reiterated declaration, that the Young Ireland leaders did not possess the intelligence, experience, tact, or discretion to conduct any great movement, much less one of such magnitude and peril as they proposed, made a deep impression on the minds of the people, and checked the insurgent progress of these eloquent declaimers.

A circumstance occurred in the English house of commons, in the early part of the year, which damaged the _prestige_ of Smith O’Brien, and although O’Connell exerted himself in parliament on his behalf, the event gave the arch-agitator satisfaction. He had many a private joke at the expense of O’Brien, and few men could wound with a brighter point than O’Connell in his best moods of satire. Mr. O’Brien was nominated on a committee, and refused to serve, alleging that the affairs of his country were so neglected that he would not attend to any other business than such as related to it. This was untrue, the affairs of Ireland had for some years occupied much of the attention of the house, and, moreover, if Mr. O’Brien did not choose to be amenable to the rules of the assembly, he ought to have resigned his seat. Persisting in his refusal to serve on the committee, he was, by order of the speaker, taken into custody by the serjeant-at-arms, and confined to a chamber within the precincts. After some time he was released, upon the motion of Mr. Shaw, an Irish Conservative member. The obstinate conduct of Mr. O’Brien, on this occasion, vindicated no principle and asserted no right; it caused his own pure patriotism to be suspected, and brought his country and himself into ridicule.

Such was the political condition of Ireland when 1846 closed in cold and gloom over its sickening, starving population. The year expired in the midst of the most frightful social condition to which any European people had ever been reduced. O’Connell too truly described it, in one of his strange and varied harangues in the Repeal Association, in the following manner:—He commenced by saying, that he deeply regretted to be obliged to announce that the state of the country was tenfold worse than it was that day week. The frost had set in, and cold and hunger were doing their work—in fact, starvation was stalking through the land. In Connaught there were no less than forty-seven deaths from starvation within the week—not merely reports of deaths, but forty-seven cases in which coroners’ juries returned verdicts of death from starvation. This was a horrible state of things, and he hoped that they would soon be put an end to. The landlords had come forward to give relief—at least, to some extent; but the merchant classes, he regretted to say, were holding back. He had seen no meeting of these men; however, he soon hoped to hear of one; and, in the name of the forty-seven starved and murdered victims, he would implore of them, and the men of all classes, to come forward and render every assistance in their power to relieve the distress.

The orator on that occasion was less than just to the merchants, and somewhat more than just to the landlords. It was brought to light by certain correspondents of the London press, that on Mr. O’Connell’s own land the state of the people was most deplorable; that this was so even before the failure of the crops; that the ordinary condition of his tenantry bordered upon famine. Mr. O’Connell was, in fact, “a middle man;” he rented extensive lands, and sub-let at a very large profit. The persons who were his tenants were ground down with an oppressive rent, and vainly endeavoured, without capital, profitably to cultivate their “takings.” On the land over which he had himself full control, the people had little ground of complaint, and much cause for gratitude. Although he did not come out unscathed from the controversy, which was raised about the state of the people on his own lands, he was as much sinned against as sinning—there was an unfair effort to fasten upon him an imputation of selfishness, which, at all events, he confuted.

Such was Ireland in 1846. Much was done for her; but she suffered not only in spite of these benevolent efforts, but even by them. She sorrowfully exemplified the song of her bard—

“Thy suns, with doubtful gleam.
Weep while they rise.”

The effect of the opposition of the Young Irelanders upon O’Connell was signal; he evidently began to droop; his physical power no longer endured. The attacks made upon him by the London press, in connection with his conduct as a landlord, deeply depressed him; for although he positively denied the imputations, and furiously assailed his critics, he felt to the core the exposure of whatever was wrong in his conduct on that matter. The failure of the potato crop, and the starvation of the people, were all that seemed necessary to complete the physical decline of this remarkable man. It was remarked in Dublin, at the close of the year, that his voice had so far failed that he could scarcely be heard in the Repeal Association; indeed, similar complaints had been made in parliament months before. He walked as if weary; his head drooped, and he wore a prodigious mass of clothing, especially about his throat and chest. He might be sometimes seen walking between his sons, leaning on their arms, his head bowed down, as if to escape the winter’s blast, and his body bent as if unable any longer to walk upright. Sometimes he might be seen passing to or from the association on a “jaunting car,” so muffled up that only those conversant with his habits could have identified him. The public power of O’Connell was evidently drawing to a close.

AFFAIRS OF INDIA.—BATTLE OF ALIWAL.—TOTAL EXPULSION OF THE SIKHS FROM THE WEST BANK OF THE SUTLEJ.—SUBMISSION OF THE LAHORE GOVERNMENT.—INSURRECTION OF THE CASHMERE PEOPLE.

The year 1846 was an eventful one for India and for British interests there; it opened in the midst of one of the most formidable warlike straggles ever witnessed since the English first began their conquering progress under Clive. Although the Sikhs had experienced such defeat at Moodkee and Ferozashooshah, they were not yet disheartened, but were determined to maintain the war. By the close of 1845 they had been driven from all their posts of importance on the left bank of the Sutlej, except their strong works at the bridge of Sobraon. Early in January, 1846, they began operations by crossing the river, so as to draw supplies from the fertile resources of the territory from which they had been so recently, and after such hard fighting, expelled. The Sirdar Runjoor Singh Majeethea crossed over to the bank opposite Philoor, and occupied Baran Hara. This place was situated between the old and new courses of the Sutlej, and was favourably situated for the purpose of cutting off the communications of the British, and of alarming the garrison of Loodiana, then one of the most important places in that part of the country. Brigadier-general Godby held command of the garrison at Loodiana, which consisted of only three regiments of native infantry; but other troops were rapidly moving up to reinforce it. Some of those troops had to march from Umballah. While Runjoor Singh was crossing the Sutlej and taking up a position at Baran Hara, the British were also engaged in active operations. Lord Gough had sent a detachment from the division of Sir Hairy Smith against Dhurrumkote. The town was defended by a fort, and it was reported that the garrison would make a desperate resistance. Sir Harry Smith in person commanded the troops sent against the place, and proceeded with such celerity, that the town and fort became an easy conquest. The garrison proved to be entirely composed of irregular auxiliaries to the Khalsa, and they made no show of determination. The movements of the sirdar, already described, became so threatening to Loodiana, that Sir Harry Smith was ordered, upon the reduction of that place and the security of the stores of grain which it contained, to manouvre for the defence of the menaced British garrison; and Brigadier-general Wheeler was ordered, with the second brigade of Sir Harry’s division, to follow in support. General Smith marched rapidly from Dhurrumkote to Jugroon, and then, to use the language of General Gough, “breaking down” from Jugroon, he marched towards Loodiana. This movement was extremely hazardous, for the sirdar’s forces were by far the more numerous, and his infantry, active and well disciplined, burned to avenge the previous disasters. Runjoor marched his forces parallel to those of the British general, opening upon him, as occasion allowed, a heavy cannonade; for the Sikh forces were well supplied with cannon, and their gunners were capable of maintaining, with coolness and skill, a well-directed fire. Both parties showed great skill in manoeuvring, and the major-general required all the ability which he displayed to extricate himself from the superior force, which pursued his march and harassed all his movements. On several occasions, the whole force of Major-general Smith was in imminent peril, but its gallant commander never quailed, was never thrown off his guard, and was not in a single instance out-generalled. On one occasion the enemy obtained, by his superior numbers, a most advantageous position, which placed the small British force in great peril, for, bending round one wing of his army, the sirdar enveloped the flank of the British. The English general with admirable coolness, extricated his brigade, retiring by _échelons_ of battalions, suffering heavily, but maintaining the order and steadiness of his troops until the imminency of the peril was over, when he opened his communications with Loodiana, at once securing his own force, and affording safety to the garrison. Brigadier-general Wheeler was unable at once to follow up these movements; the skilful and complicated manoeuvres which Sir Hairy made to evade the enemy threw the brigadier off the communication. The Sikhs were, on the whole, encouraged by these proceedings; they had interrupted the communication of Generals Smith and Wheeler, captured considerable baggage, acted for some time on the aggressive, and inflicted loss upon the British. It was, therefore, with some confidence, that they took up an intrenched position at Budhawal, resting for support on the fort connected with that place. The position was not, however, a safe one. Smith and Godby were on one Hank, and Wheeler, cautiously feeling his way, hung dangerously upon the other. The sirdar became alarmed lest Wheeler should be reinforced, and the British generals should then fall on both his flanks; he accordingly fell back upon the Sutlej, a movement bad in strategy, but which was forced upon him by the movements of the English generals—unless, indeed, he had suddenly, with great rapidity and boldness, attacked them in detail. Wheeler and Smith formed a junction, and moved clown upon the abandoned post of Budhawal. Here General Smith was further reinforced, and he found himself at the head of a body of men, European and native, sufficiently formidable to justify him in acting at once upon the offensive. Before General Smith could attack the new position of the sirdar, the latter was reinforced by a brigade of cavalry, twelve guns, and a small division of infantry, probably numbering about four thousand men. Finding himself at the head of a force numerically so superior to the British, the enterprising sirdar once more took the offensive; but instead of attacking the army of Sir Harry Smith, he attempted to intercept his communications with the main army, by the occupation of Jugroon. To prevent the accomplishment of this object, the English general determined to bring on a general engagement. Accordingly, on the morning of the 28th of January, the British force made directly for the enemy, with whom they came up after a march of six miles. The Sikhs were in position along a ridge of elevated ground, close to the village of Ullewall, or, as it is called in the British despatches, Aliwal. The right of the enemy rested upon a somewhat precipitous ridge, while the left was defended by intrenchments. As the British cavalry came near the enemy, they deployed, and advanced boldly, presenting an imposing array, especially the European lancers. The ground was favourable for cavalry; it was like a fine English sward. The troopers then took ground to the right and left by brigades, the infantry advancing in column. From the Sikh camp the scene was more brilliant; as the cavalry broke away the columns of the advancing infantry appeared full in view, the sheen of their bayonets brightly gleaming in the eastern morning sun. Still more brilliant was the scene as the advancing columns deployed into line, for what sight so impressive, where masses of men constitute the objects of interest, as lines of British infantry drawn up in the array of battle ‘? The cavalry now assumed direct échelon to the rear of both flanks of the infantry. The artillery were placed on either flank and in the centre. A review day in Hyde Park, Aldershot, or in the undulated and picturesque Phoenix Park, at Dublin, could not present a more orderly and trim appearance than this magnificent line of British soldiers, drawn up before the acclivities of Aliwal. There was no wind, no dust. The sun was bright, but not so hot as might be expected in that climate, and the troops moved with noiseless foot, hoof, and wheel over the hard grass, as if it were a fairy scene, and the baton of the British chief were the wand of an enchanter, every movement of which called into gay and brilliant reality some new feature of the “glorious pomp and circumstance of war.” Viewed from the British lines, the Khalsa host was also imposing, as its dark masses of infantry were ranged along the position, from whence they looked sullenly down upon their skilful and gallant foe. The Sikh cavalry, in constant and unnecessary motion, gave some life to the stillness which brooded over the long lines of the compact and motionless infantry of the Khalsa army. It was a moment of extreme suspense, for upon the fortune of this battle much depended. If the sirdar repulsed the British, he would undoubtedly cutoff their communications, oblige them to fall back upon Loodiana, and paralyse the advance of Lord Gough upon Sobraon. If the British conquered the enemy’s lines, the sirdar’s army had no retreat; the river was in his rear, and it was in no place easily fordable, nor had he other means of crossing, adequate to the safe retreat of such an army—defeat and destruction were to him the same. It was a day for valour to aid men; life, hope, honour to both armies depended upon the deeds to be that day enacted upon the grassy slopes of Aliwal.

The superiority of the enemy in numbers enabled him, by his left, to outflank the British; Sir Harry Smith, accordingly, ordered the troops to break into open columns and take ground to the right. The British line had advanced one hundred and fifty yards; it was now ten o’clock, and suddenly from the whole of the Khalsa position a fierce cannonade was opened. At first the balls fell short, but as the British advanced, the enemy’s shot told fearfully upon their ranks. Still, under this heavy fire, the line was halted, that the general might execute a manoeuvre which appeared to open a prospect of more speedy victory. The village of Aliwal was discovered to be the key of the position, and the British general, by moving his right successfully upon it, could with great advantage operate against the left and centre of the enemy’s line. This the English commander executed in the most brilliant manner: the first brigade of his own division, under Brigadier Hicks, immediately supported by Brigadier Godby’s brigade, which had constituted the garrison of Loodiana, gallantly stormed the village of Aliwal, and from this new vantage-ground opened a deadly fire upon the right of the enemy’s left, and his left centre. Sir Harry then ordered his whole line to advance, which was gallantly achieved, the 31st (or Young Buffs) European regiment distinguishing itself, although the native regiments showed a noble emulation to be first in front. The cavalry on the enemy’s left were now in a position to act effectively against the British, but the brigade of cavalry on our right flank, commanded by the skilful and clashing Brigadier Cureton, charged them, sabring numbers, and driving the rest pell-mell upon their infantry, whom they threw into confusion. Another body of British cavalry, consisting of the light-horse and the body-guard, made a second charge equally brilliant. The intrenchments of the enemy, filled with infantry, were now brought into view; but General Smith ordered Godby’s brigade to change front and take them _en revers_; this manouvre increased the confusion of the enemy, whose infantry gave way, leaving several guns in the hands of the victorious brigade. These movements on the enemy’s left were decisive of the action, but the British behaved equally well on other portions of the field. Brigadiers Wheeler and Wilson assailed their right, storming their lines and capturing their guns. The Khalsa army reeled back, broken and despairing, and sought the river, in the vain hope that they might manage to cross by fording or by boats. The rapid movements of the British turned the retreat of the enemy into a disorderly and desperate flight. The sirdar had, however, made some provision for defeat; he had occupied strongly the village of Bhoardec, so as to cover the retreat to the river, and if possible to cover also the passage. Here the 16th Lancers behaved splendidly. The enemy had a strong force of infantry drawn up on one flank of the village; the 16th charged them; the foe stood the charge heroically; the 16th penetrated their square; the Sikh square, notwithstanding the efficiency of the lance in such warfare, closing behind the cavalry as they charged through. The lancers wheeled, and this time used the sword more than the lance, disconcerting the arrangement of the enemy, and breaking their square. The 3rd Light Cavalry completed the work of destruction, bursting through the formation of the infantry, and putting great numbers to the sword. The fighting might be said, to be in some sense more desperate after the battle was lost and won than during the operations upon which stragetically its issue depended. While these brilliant, cavalry charges were occurring on the right of the village, her majesty’s 53rd carried the village itself by storm, and the 30th native infantry, wheeling round by the left of the houses, took the fugitives in rear. The same masterly skill and heroic valour which was shown in taking Aliwal conquered Bhoardee, the last hope of the defeated; for although about 1000 Khalsa infantry rallied under a high bank to check the destructive advance of the English, there was no longer any hope of covering a retreat across the river. Even this rally only added to the slaughter and the ultimate confusion: a heavy fire of musketry from 1000 men, closely directed, was galling to our soldiers, but the 30th native infantry took them, at the point of the bayonet, and as they retreated, twelve guns which were previously moved up to within three hundred yards, opened a deadly fire of canister, mowing down the fugitives in a manner which even those engaged in deadly strife thought it awful to witness. To complete the horror of this flight, her majesty’s 63rd, who moved up to the support of the 30th native infantry, pursued the fugitives, pouring in a close, deadly, unremitting stream of musketry. With wild cries of despair, casting away their arms, and lifting up their hands as if beseechingly to their victors, the whole of the Khalsa troops cast themselves into the river, except such of the earliest fugitives as secured the boats and made good their passage. The river was swollen; at the shallowest place the infantry were up to their necks, and were under the fire of the artillery and musketry of their pursuers. Those who succeeded in crossing drew up with a few guns, but the fire of the artillery caused their speedy departure, leaving their cannon behind. Lieutenant Holmes, of the irregular cavalry, and gunner Scott, of the 2nd brigade horse-artillery, here performed a gallant exploit; they swam their horses across the stream, and spiked the guns, exposed to the fire of the enemy’s skirmishers, but covered by the British fire from the left bank. The conflict of Aliwal was over, and one of the most skilfully fought and completely won battles of modern times reflected its glory upon the name of Sir Harry Smith, and the valour of the British army of India.

The scene after the battle was horrible; the whole field of combat was covered with the slain; the river’s banks were thickly strewn with the dying and the dead; the Sutlej itself bore to the Sikhs at Sobraon the tidings of the battle, for not only “redly ran its blushing waters down,” but the corpses of the slain Khalsa soldiery were borne along in such numbers by the current as to reveal the horrible nature of the slaughter, and to fill with dismay the Khalsa host.

The slain of the enemy was computed variously, from eight to ten thousand men; the trophies of war were, nearly all the Khalsa standards, fifty-one pieces of cannon, and a vast quantity of ammunition, small arms, and camp equipage.

Every arm of the British force behaved with admirable gallantry and skill; the infantry carried every point under the most galling fire, preserving their formation in a manner beyond all praise; the cavalry swept the horsemen of the enemy from the field, as the tide rolls the wreck upon the shore; the artillery could not be surpassed by that of any army in Europe: towards the close of the action, the manner in which two 8–inch howitzers, ordered up by Sir Harry Smith himself, were worked, excited the admiration of the troops.

This battle, however, did not determine the war. The Sikhs occupied such strong positions on both sides of the river at Sobraon, that they were willing to believe their post impregnable, that an attempt to storm it would be fruitless, and that in fact there a barrier existed, against which the surging wave of British power would be broken. This was the only point of occupation then held by the Khalsa army on the left bank of the Sutlej. All fears for Loodiana having now subsided, the mission of Sir Harry Smith at the head of a separate _corps d’armée_ was over, and he marched to join the grand army under the command of the intrepid veteran Sir Hugh Gough, one of the noblest soldiers that ever served in the British army. General Sir Charles Napier, in his own eccentric way, said of him that he was “as brave as ten lions, each with two tails and two sets of teeth.” Sir Charles rivalled Mr. Roebuck, the radical English commoner, in the scantiness of his commendations; his droll eulogy of Sir Hugh Gough will therefore be appreciated. On the 8th of February, Sir Harry Smith made his junction with the army of his chief, and was received in terms not more flattering than just from a general who never refused to merit its just meed.

The first duty of the English commander-in-chief was now to capture the stronghold of the enemy, which was extensively fortified, mounted more than seventy heavy pieces of cannon, and was garrisoned by 30,000 men, the select troops of the grand Khalsa army. Even with the addition of Sir Harry Smith’s division, the brave old chief was hardly strong enough for the task imposed upon him; but happily his artillery, which very much needed it, was reinforced from Delhi by several howitzers and mortars.

On the morning of the 10th, General Gough considered himself in a condition to proceed against the works of Sobraon; these had been well reconnoitred previously, and never was an army more confident in its chief, its resources, and its own will than the British army of the Sutlej. The enemy had been ceaselessly employed since the battle of Aliwal in throwing up field-works on the right bank of the river, so as to command the flanks of the works on the left bank. Easy communications between the two camps were preserved by an excellently constructed bridge. As this is a general History of England, and not a History of India, or of the War in India, the space allotted to our task will not allow of more minute particularisation of the defences.

Sir Hugh Gough made his dispositions of battle on the evening of the 9th, according to which, at daybreak on the 10th, the cannonade was to open. A dense mist, however, covered the sphere of intended operations, rendering it impossible to open fire until the sun had penetrated the obscure atmosphere. On the extreme right of the works, close by the river, Major-general Sir K. Dick, with two brigades of infantry, awaited the signal to begin. On this point the attack was to be led by Brigadier-general Stacey, at the head of her majesty’s 10th and 53rd foot, brigaded with two native regiments: the 10th now, for the first time, came under fire during this war. Brigadier Wilkinson, at the head of the sixth brigade, was posted within 200 yards in support of Brigadier Stacey. The reserve was commanded by Brigadier Ashburnham. The right of the attack was occupied by the division of Major-general Sir Hany Smith, its extreme right approaching the river. The centre was commanded by Major-general Gilbert, whose division was posted with its right resting on the Little Sobraon. Brigadier-general Cureton threatened the ford at Hurrakee, and remained in observation of the enemy’s horse, posted on the other side. The force under Cureton was to make a feint of attempting the ford.

The supports were commanded by Brigadier-general Campbell and Major-general Sir Joseph Thackwell; the former in support of Smith’s left and Gilbert’s right, the latter in support of Gilbert’s left and the right of General Dick.

As soon as the mists were dispersed by the morning sun, the Sikhs appeared behind well-constructed redoubts and breast-works of planks and fascines. The British field-batteries opened fire, and received a terrible response.

At nine o’clock, Brigadier Stacey advanced, supported on either flank by artillery. The movement was orderly and beautiful, the infantry preserving its line in double quick time, the artillery galloping up to take possession of every advantage of the ground, until the infantry again occupied the advanced position; thus mutually supporting, the artillery and infantry arrived within three hundred yards of the ponderous batteries of the works. Here a terrible fire opened upon the advancing force, before which many fell, and few believed, who could see what was passing, that Stacey and his brigade would ever reach the intrenchments of the enemy. The troops of Brigadier Wilkinson were well up in support, and under cover of the fire of our field-pieces and horse-artillery. Stacey’s brigade charged’ the intrenchments, entered them, drove the enemy in at the point of the bayonet, fighting desperately as they receded. This took place within view of a large portion of the army, and the exultation and assurance of victory which was consequently excited, materially affected the fortunes of the day. The whole of this brigade, European and native, behaved with the greatest intrepidity, “the brave Irish of the 10th,” as Major Edwardes on another occasion described them, were especially distinguished. They never fired a shot until within the intrenchments; they discharged their pieces into the breasts of such of their enemies as withstood them, or in pursuing volleys upon those who retreated within the inner area of the works. The 53rd regiment also, as in the battle of Aliwal, behaved with great courage, and showed the highest discipline.