ability, but of somewhat grandiose and theatrical tastes, even in the management of practical affairs. He therefore determined to bring back the so-called Gates of Somnauth to the place whence they had been originally removed. The act would have been foolish enough, even had the genuineness of the gates been entirely beyond dispute, which was very far from the case. The Mohammedans could not but have felt insulted by the restoration of anything connected with a gross idolatry, formerly destroyed by one of the most illustrious of Moslem sovereigns; while the Hindoos were simply reminded of their ancient disgrace and humiliation. These considerations, however, were absent from the mind of Lord Ellenborough, or disregarded by him; and on the 16th of November, 1842, he issued a sonorous proclamation to all the princes, chiefs, and people of India. “My brothers and my friends,” he said, “our victorious army bears the gates of the Temple of Somnauth in triumph from Afghanistan, and the despoiled tomb of Sultan Mahmoud looks upon the ruins of Ghizni. The insult of eight hundred years is at last avenged. The gates of the Temple of Somnauth, so long the memorial of your humiliation, are become the proudest record of your national glory,—the proof of your superiority in arms over the nations beyond the Indus. To you, princes and chiefs of Sirhind, of Rajwarra, of Malwa and Guzerat, I shall commit this glorious trophy of successful war. You will yourselves, with all honour, transmit the gates of sandal-wood through your respective territories to the restored Temple of Somnauth.” On the 14th of January, 1843, the gates were carried into Delhi in state, under a canopy of crimson and gold; but the proceedings afterwards created great annoyance in England, and were made the subject of animated Parliamentary debates.
Again we must revert to tragedy, for it is impossible to pass over, in the events of this period, some terrible circumstances which occurred in Bokhara, and of which two of our own countrymen were the victims. Colonel Stoddart had been sent a few years previously to the Persian camp before Herat, to insist that Persia must abandon the siege of that important position. Thence he proceeded on some official business to Bokhara, where, after a time, the Ameer became suspicious of his designs, and threw him into prison. At a later date, Captain Arthur Conolly was sent into the same country, but, after making a vain attempt to procure the liberation of Stoddart, was himself confined in a subterranean dungeon, where he and his fellow-sufferer were kept in complete darkness, without being allowed to change their clothes, or to wash themselves, and with a very insufficient supply of food, which was let down to them once in four or five days. The Ameer suspected the two strangers of being spies in the employment of his enemies, and their case was considerably prejudiced by the refusal of the Indian and Home Governments to recognise the captives as official agents. Conolly had in the first instance gone to Khokand, where he was engaged in endeavouring to effect the release of slaves; but Lord Ellenborough declared that he had no knowledge of his mission to that country having been authorised, and he added that that unfortunate officer had been expressly instructed by the President of the Board of Control not to go to Khokand, so that, it was remarked, he in all probability owed his misfortunes to the direct transgression of those orders. How far these statements are to be accepted as absolute truth, appears somewhat doubtful; but at any rate the adoption of such a tone was ill calculated to obtain the release of the prisoners from a ferocious tyrant like the Ameer of Bokhara. Appeals, it is true, were made to his good feelings; but unfortunately he did not possess any, and the condition of the prisoners became progressively worse. Under these circumstances, Dr. Wolff, a German Jew who had been converted to Christianity, courageously undertook an expedition to Bokhara, in the hope of delivering the prisoners. On arriving in that country, however, he heard they had already been put to death. The
HOLYROOD PALACE, EDINBURGH.
double execution seems to have been in the summer of 1843, some time before Dr. Wolff even set out on his expedition. The heroic missionary was himself imprisoned for a considerable time, but at length obtained his release, and came to England in 1845, when he was enthusiastically received by all who had watched his fortunes with mingled admiration and alarm.
While Afghanistan was distracted by a vengeful war, the general state of England continued even worse than in the earlier part of the year. Parliament was prorogued on the 12th of August, 1842, by the Queen in person, and in the Speech from the Throne her Majesty expressed a hope that the members of the two Houses “would do their utmost to encourage, by example and active exertions, that spirit of order and submission to the law without which there
THE QUEEN’S ENTRY INTO EDINBURGH. (See p. 127.)
can be no enjoyment of the fruits of peaceful industry, and no advance in the career of social improvement.” Sedition was indeed becoming more ripe every day. In the manufacturing towns, mills were violently entered by disorderly mobs, their machinery was destroyed, and those who were willing to work were compelled to abandon their labours. Manchester was in so disturbed a state that a regiment of the Guards was despatched thither to overawe the malcontents; and in many of the northern towns collisions, attended by bloodshed and loss of life, occurred from time to time. The demand of the workpeople was for increase of wages; but political ideas also were mixed up with the purely social question. The Chartists joined the discontented artisans, and for a while the Government was seriously alarmed. But the arrest of the leaders struck terror into the rest, and, as the autumn advanced, the worst of the danger was at an end. In the west of Scotland, however, disturbances continued for some time longer; yet it was at this period that the Queen and Prince Albert paid their first visit to the Northern Kingdom.
It had been intended by the Royal couple to visit Belgium in the autumn of 1842, to meet there some members of the family of Louis Philippe. This design, however, was frustrated by the unhappy death of the Duke of Orleans, who was killed by an accident on the 13th of July. The Duke was the favourite brother of the Queen of the Belgians, and the sad event threw both Courts into the deepest mourning. Her Majesty and Prince Albert were profoundly afflicted by the casualty, and, being unable to visit Belgium, resolved to turn their faces towards Scotland. Notwithstanding the turbulence of the Scottish working classes in the manufacturing cities, the reception given to the Queen and her husband was of the most enthusiastic character, and the journey of 1842 became a precedent for many later years. The Royal yacht was accompanied by a squadron of nine vessels, in addition to which were the Trinity House steamer and a packet. The voyage was slow and tedious, and her Majesty suffered a good deal from the roughness of the sea. She was much struck by the first appearance of the Scottish coast, which she describes as “dark, rocky, bold, and wild.” At half-past six on the evening of August 31st, they passed St. Abb’s Head, and her Majesty records that “numbers of fishing boats (in one of which was a piper playing), and steamers full of people, came out to meet us, and on board of one large steamer they danced a reel to a band. It was a beautiful evening, calm, with a fine sunset, and the air so pure.”14 As the Royal yacht proceeded up the Firth of Forth under the gathering darkness, the neighbouring heights were seen to be lighted with beacon-fires, to which the yacht responded by sending up rockets and burning blue lights. The Royal party landed at Leith on the 1st of September, and drove in a barouche to Edinburgh, with which both the Queen and Prince Albert were greatly pleased. The various historical monuments and buildings in the Scottish capital, and the objects of interest in the neighbourhood, proved sources of great delight to the distinguished visitors; and Prince Albert, writing to the Duchess of Saxe-Gotha on the 18th of September, shortly after the return to Windsor, says:—“Scotland has made a most favourable impression upon us both. The country is full of beauty, of a severe and grand character; perfect for sport, and the air remarkably pure and light in comparison with what we have here. The people are more natural, and marked by that honesty and sympathy which always distinguish the inhabitants of mountainous countries who live away from towns. There is, moreover, no country where historical traditions are preserved with such fidelity, or to the same extent.” Although the stay of the Royal visitors was not very long, they entered the Highlands, and at every point were received with the warmth which Scotsmen are not slow to exhibit when their national pride is delicately touched.
When the Queen first entered Edinburgh, there had been a slight mistake, which occasioned some inconvenience. It was expected that her Majesty would be received by the Lord