LORD ELLENBOROUGH

THE publication of Sir Robert Peel's correspondence has incidentally thrown some additional light on the character and career of a statesman whose abilities and whose eloquence won him distinction among his contemporaries, but whose vanity and want of judgment interfered, over and over again, with his usefulness. Born in 1790, the son of the Tory lawyer who occupied for so many years the office of Lord Chief Justice of England, the brother-in-law of Lord Castlereagh, and in fortunate enjoyment of one of the richest sinecures at the disposal of the relatives of successful statesmen, the second Lord Ellenborough began life with all the advantages which birth, marriage, and fortune could confer. Growing up to manhood in the eventful period when the constancy of this country gradually prevailed over the ambition of Napoleon, he learned to take a keen interest in the movements of armies, and longed to be known as 'a military statesman.' Recognising that British courage had been sustained by the eloquence of a great minister, he concluded that oratory was the chief power by which the nation could be moved; he set himself to improve by study the qualities with which Nature had endowed him, and he became one of the chief orators and one of the best phrase-makers of his age. Yet, in the event, his career was destroyed by defects of character which neither ambition nor eloquence could redeem. The man who was anxious to pose as a military statesman was only saved from the reproach of a great military disgrace by the reluctance of agents, whose abilities he despised, to carry out his orders. The phrases with which he intended to move the world only made him ridiculous.

There are three periods in Lord Ellenborough's career to which we specially wish to direct attention. (1) He was Lord Privy Seal and subsequently President of the Board of Control in the Duke of Wellington's Administration; (2) he was Governor-General of India from Lord Auckland's resignation in 1841 to his own recall in 1844; and (3) he was again President of the Board of Control, in Lord Derby's second Ministry, for a few months in 1858. In the first of these periods there was no doubt that the Foreign Office was the object of Lord Ellenborough's ambition. When Lord Dudley held

the seals of that office, Lord Ellenborough wrote in his diary: 'I cannot help thinking that if Dudley and I were to change places the country would be no loser.' When, after a few months, Lord Aberdeen succeeded Lord Dudley, Lord Ellenborough added: This I know that I could do the business of the office better than Aberdeen.' This article has nothing to do with Lord Aberdeen's foreign policy. But there can be little doubt that Lord Ellenborough, in 1828, would have been the worst possible Foreign Minister. For he was actuated at that time, and indeed throughout his life, by a jealousy of Russia which blinded him to every other consideration, and which, if he had held the seals of the Foreign Office, would almost certainly have involved this country in

war.

own.

The distrust and hatred of Russia which animated Lord Ellenborough in 1828-9 became much more intense after his succession to the Board of Control. Opposition to Russia became with him, thenceforward, not only a national but also a personal question. He was convinced that the true policy of this country was to resist every Russian encroachment in Asia; and he watched with dismay the progress of the Russian armies. With a comprehensive arrogance which a modern Jingo might envy, he claimed Asia for his The Russians have taken Erzeroum, and have quite dispersed the Turkish army in Asia. Every success of theirs in that quarter makes my heart bleed. I consider it a victory gained over me, as Asia is mine.' Again: Our policy in Europe and Asia ought to be the same to pull down the Russian power.' He persuaded himself that such an enterprise would be easy. Though he noticed that General Paskewitch had 110,000 men and 100 light guns, he added, With 200,000l. I could stop General Paskewitch.' But he mainly relied, in checking Russia, on anticipating her conquests. The Indus was to become a British river. 'No British flag has ever floated upon the waters of this river. Please God, it shall, and in triumph to the source of all its tributary streams.' The British advance, however, was not to be stopped by the Indus. On the acquisition of Khiva by the Russians we should occupy Lahore and Cabul. It is not on the Indus that an enemy is to be met. If we do not meet him in Cabul, at the foot of the Hindoo Koosh, or in its passes, we had better remain in [? on] the Sutlege.' Either on the Indus, or in Afghanistan, however, the battle was to be fought which was to decide the sovereignty of Asia; and, with a strange vanity, Lord Ellenborough fancied that he might himself command the British army and deal the decisive blow. 'I feel confident we shall have to fight the Russians on the Indus, and I have long had a presentiment that I should meet them there and gain a great battle. All dreams, but I have had them a long time.'

To give effect to this ambitious policy Lord Ellenborough con

sidered that two things were necessary: First, the communications with Europe must be improved by the seizure of Egypt-in 1829, when this aspiration was first recorded, and in 1844, when it was repeated, there was not even a pretext for annexation-and by the institution of steam navigation on the Red Sea. Second, England must thenceforward act as an Asiatic Power: the government of India must be transferred directly to the Crown, and the King of England must become Emperor of India. Pending these changes, it seemed intolerable that some commercial magnates, sitting in the City, should affect to regulate questions of Imperial policy; and accordingly, in 1830, Lord Ellenborough told the Chairs distinctlyapparently without consulting either the Cabinet or the Prime Minister -that he intended to take upon the King's Government the whole responsibility of the foreign policy of India.'

These extracts from Lord Ellenborough's diary bear a close resemblance to the ideas which Mr. Disraeli subsequently made Fakredeen express in Tancred. Representing as they do the insight of genius, uncorrected by the prudence of judgment, they are more appropriate to the pages of a romance than to the journal of a Cabinet Minister. It is fair to suppose that Sir Robert Peel was ignorant of Lord Ellenborough's real views when he selected him to succeed Lord Auckland in India. He mentioned, indeed, to the Duke of Wellington a fear that he might have a tendency to precipitation and over-activity.' But he would certainly have hesitated much longer if he had known that his strange colleague had dreams of fighting Russia on the Indus.

When Lord Ellenborough was selected for his great office we were already engaged in the disastrous invasion of Afghanistan. The first news which he received on his arrival in India announced the murder of our emissary and the annihilation of our army. If, however, he had to deal with one of the gravest crises in Indian history, he had one of the greatest opportunities ever offered to a military statesman. The honour of his country had to be vindicated; British captives-English ladies among them-had to be rescued; and the work, strangely enough, had to be done in the very region in which Lord Ellenborough had dreamed of meeting and defeating the whole power of Russia. Yet he met the crisis by ordering the precipitate withdrawal of the remaining British armies beyond the Indus.

At the time at which these orders were given General Nott had successfully defended Candahar against attack; General Sale had defeated the Afghans who were beleaguering him at Jellalabad; and General Pollock had already forced the Khyber Pass and was in possession of Ali Musjid. It was not, therefore, under the first depression arising from a great reverse, but after victory had already been organised, that this great military statesman decided on an

unworthy retreat. The shame of retirement was only avoided because General Pollock-alleging that his means of transport were insufficient-obtained leave to postpone his withdrawal; and General Nott, reinforced by General England, was given the option of retreating through Ghuznee and Cabul; in other words, of marching northwards through the heart of Afghanistan and through the scene of our disasters. The responsibility of this decision, however, which Lord Ellenborough ought to have assumed, was thrown on his subordinates; and the credit of avenging defeat, and of rescuing British prisoners, belongs to them, and not to Lord Ellenborough.

It is highly discreditable to Lord Ellenborough that, in his letters home, he spoke of these men in terms of contempt. He declared, in June 1842, to the Duke of Wellington that he had not 'the smallest confidence' in General Nott. He wrote of General Pollock in July: 'Had he had any real energy, he would not have allowed the camels he took with him to be sent back. If he had any real mind, he would not be in the hands of the boys about him.' He told Sir Robert Peel, about the same time, that Generals Nott and Pollock have not a grain of military talent.' Yet, while he was expressing these depreciatory opinions of the generals who had saved the honour of his country and his own reputation, he was claiming credit for their achievements. 'I am making the most of my victory'-so he wrote to the Prime Minister.

The use which he actually made of his victory was ridiculous. He ordered General Nott to carry away from Ghuznee the gates of a Hindoo temple which had been removed from Somnauth by Mahmoud eight centuries before. He announced their return in a proclamation, in which he told the people of India-large numbers of whom were Mahometans-that the insult of eight hundred years is at last avenged. Our victorious army bears the gates of the temple of Somnauth in triumph from Afghanistan, and the despoiled tomb of Sultan Mahomed looks down upon the ruins of Ghuznee.' He arranged that the victorious army' should be received in triumph at Ferozepore, passing through ranks of salaaming elephants; and that the gates of Somnauth should be then handed over to the princes of India. These dramatic arrangements degenerated into mere farce. It is said that the elephants at Ferozepore forgot to salaam and ran away; the famous gates proved on examination to be 'base coin,' mere reproductions, in other timber, of the original sandalwood: they were never taken to Somnauth, and still lieundistinguished and almost unremembered at Agra. But Lord Ellenborough himself was not disconcerted by the laughter which his policy and proclamations had provoked. And he wrote home declaring that his mission was accomplished. I was not aware,' said the President of the Board of Control to the Prime Minister,

'that Lord Ellenborough went out to recover the gates of the Temple.'

It was apparently Lord Ellenborough's opinion that Lord Auckland's policy in invading Afghanistan failed because he had not taken the precaution of previously annexing the territory which lay between the Company's dominions and the passes of the Himalayas. He certainly did his best to remedy this defect. The course of the Lower Indus lay through the territories of the Ameers of Scindh. The Ameers, in Lord Ellenborough's judgment, had only imperfectly carried out the provisions of a treaty which they had concluded with Lord Auckland; and, as a guarantee for their future good behaviour, Lord Ellenborough decided on seizing Kurrachee, near the mouth of the river, and the important position of Sukkur, higher up the stream, near the entrance to the Bolan Pass. But this high-handed proceeding was not unnaturally resented by the Ameers, and involved us in a new war. The brilliant manner in which Sir Charles Napier conducted the campaign threw fresh lustre on our arms; the substitution of good government for the rule of the Ameers increased the happiness of the people. But such consequences as these should not blind us to the fact that the war itself was a war of aggression, and that Lord Ellenborough's real motive in undertaking the conquest of Sindh was the realisation of his old dream that the British flag should float in triumph on the Indus.

It is clear from the publication of the Peel correspondence that the Cabinet at home regarded Lord Ellenborough's high-handed policy with great uneasiness. Sir Robert Peel himself told Lord Ellenborough that 'the justice of our proceedings is not clearly established by the official documents in our possession.' He told Sir James Graham that it was unconscionable folly not to treat vanquished foes with every personal consideration,' and he declined to approve what Lord Ellenborough had done without further information. Neither Parliament nor the directors of the East India Company, however, shared the reluctance of the Prime Minister and the Cabinet to condemn an old colleague. Parliament was with difficulty induced to include Lord Ellenborough's name in the vote of thanks which they accorded to the soldiers who had restored the credit of our arms. The directors of the East India Company, at a secret court in August 1843, declared it to be their imperative duty to record their conviction that the proceedings towards the Ameers of Sindh have been unjust and impolitic, and inconsistent with the true interests and honour of the Indian Government.' Indeed, one of the directors said that he had never heard of anything so atrocious as our conduct to the princes,' and gave formal notice of his intention to propose Lord Ellenborough's recall.

In fact, his recall was obviously becoming necessary. In the eighteen months in which he had been in India Lord Ellenborough