GENERAL COLIN MACKENZIE.*

THIS is the biography of a right noble gentleman, a soldier of heroic mould, a chevalier sans pear et sans reproche. Colin Mackenzie was one of the men who have helped to make and main- tain our Indian Empire ; and though he had fewer opportunities of winning distinction than fell to some of his fellow-soldiers, yet, as touching ability, courage, and devotion to duty, he will bear comparison with the best of them,—even with his friend the immortal Havelock. The eon of a father who had in his veins " the blood of the Seaforth and of the Cochranes of Dun- donald," and of an English mother of strong character, who " might have been taken as a fit representative of a Roman • Storms and Sunshines of a Soldier's Life : Lieutenant-General Colin Mackenzie, C.D. Edinburgh: David Douglas.

matron," he was born in London in 1806 ; and, the family being far from well off, he was glad to receive, in 1825, a cadet-

ship in the Indian Army. It is significant of the old-school harshness of his upbringing that at this time he had never been allowed any pocket-money, and was as ignorant of its value as a child of seven. His childhood, as may be supposed, was not happy : " Every offence was visited with severity, flogging ad libitum, was the rule, so that when the boys caught sight of their father they preferred escaping to meeting him." To sensitive natures, childhood under these conditions must have been one long agony. But in the case of the elder Mackenzie, severity does not seem to have been incompatible with a sincere, if some- what lofty, paternal love. Colin, on his part, warmly loved his

father, and always held his memory in high honour. When he reached Madras, at the age of nineteen, tall, slender, and agile, "the most beautiful boy his adjutant had ever beheld," Colin Mackenzie knew as little of the ways of the world as of the value of money. He called on the Commander-in-Chief, Sir George Walker, and after waiting some time in a room full of officers, he went up to the A.D.C. and said : " Can you tell me if I am to have the honour of an interview with the Commander - in - Chief or not P for I am not accustomed to kick my heels about in a great man's ante-chamber." The A.D.C. repeated this to Sir George Walker, who was greatly amused, and asked the audacious young ensign to dinner. A little later he had an interview with a more formidable customer than a Com- mander-in-Chief. While quartered at Aska, in the Northern Sirkars, he made a trip to Jagganath, and on his way back came to a village where he found a crowd of people before a small cave, who told him there was a tiger inside. Fetching his pistols, he crawled in up a passage barely wide enough for his broad shoulders, fired at a pair of great yellow eyes, which glared at him' in the darkness, and then with some diffi- culty worked his way back ; but, finding the beast was not dead, he returned, fired another shot, and killed him. When brought out of the cave it proved to be not a tiger, as he had thought, but a huge hyena. A bold feat for a lad of less than twenty.; and the fearlessness he then showed (or the power of overcoming fear), he had afterwards frequent opportunities of displaying on momentous and trying occasions.

In 1834 Mackenzie, at that time adjutant of the 48th Regiment, took part in the Coorg campaign. The Rajahs of this country, monsters of cruelty and insolence, were addressed by their subjects as "Great God," and worshipped with prostrations and sacrifices. If a poor fellow standing in an attitude of devotion before his Sovereign chanced to lower his hands for an instant to brash away a mosquito, or for any other purpose, " a sign too well known" would be given by this soi-clisant divinity, and the poor wretch made a head shorter in a twinkling. The last of these Rajahs, whom the East Indian Company dethroned, and who had ordered more executions than he could count, and been worshipped as a god, went afterwards to London to sue the Company for a large

sum of money which they had confiscated. He often called on Major Mackenzie in England, generally at dinner-time, and, when

asked what he would have, invariably replied, " Mutton chop and currant tart," which he probably enjoyed as much as being worshipped.

In 1836 Mackenzie volunteered for service against the pirates in the Straits of Malacca, when he met with some stirring adventures, saw hard fighting, and bore himself so well as to win high praise from Captain Chads, RN., the commander of

the expedition. He was already known as an officer of capacity and promise, and in 1846 Lord Auckland selected him for political services in Afghanistan. His journey thither is described in a series of extracts from his Diary, on which con- siderations of space forbid us to dwell as we could desire. But one fact which he mentions is so remarkable that we canna pass it by in silence. At Ferozpur he made the acquaintance of Mr. Clerk (afterwards Sir George Clerk), the Political Agent, who gave Mackenzie " many curious details as to the social state of the motley multitude of small States over which he has the

chief control."

"One community, consisting of about twenty thousand persons, has been for some hundreds of years literally without a government, each man being his own chief. This they have great pride in, and, strange to say, although pure Sikhs, and surrounded by neighbours of the worst character, they actually refrain from the worst vices of India, viz., lying and stealing. They shed blood, however, without remorse, and are an habitually warlike race, always going to their labours in the field armed to the teeth. The Rajah of

Patiiila, about ten years ago, was in the habit of attacking these people, under the pretence of some long-forgotten, if not fictitious, claim to their homage. The British Government, to stop the effusion of much blood, interfered, and placed . this now sole specimen of the pare original Sikh under the management of Mr. Clerk. Clerk was sorely puzzled how to deal with a tribe in which the son was wholly independent of the father, the labourer of the landlord, &c., who acknowledged no system of laws, and none in the wide world as their superior. After some years he persuaded them to elect fifty representatives, whose decisions, in which Clerk should agree, they promised to obey. But it was all in vain ; for day by day the rising generation asserted their rights as they came to man's estate, declaring they would not obey, as they had no hand in the election of the representatives to whom their fathers had given their votes; and, indeed, the elders themselves, when a case was decided against them, sturdily asked what right their equals had to lord it over them. They would resist unto blood any attempt to enforce the observance of any rules whatever."

There is nothing new under the sun, and it is interesting to learn that there existed for centuries in the wilds of India a community who realised in their lives the ideal anarchy that M.

Elia& Rechis and Prince Krapotkine consider to be the end of civilisation, and the highest and happiest state to which man- kind can attain. The honesty and truthfulness of these sturdy mountaineers they would doubtless ascribe to the absence of government and police, and their fighting propensities to the provocation of their neighbours. It would be interesting to know what has been the subsequent fate of this strange com- munity,—if they are still lawless and veracious, or if their sub- mission to order has been followed by the loss of their charac- teristic virtues.

At Peshawur, Mackenzie made the acquaintance of the cele- brated General Avitabile, Governor of the province under Ranjit Singh. Avitabile had served under Napoleon ; and although his province was much betti3r ruled than any other Sikh pro- vince, he certainly did not rule it with rose-water. When a village failed, from whatever cause, to pay tribute, it was forthwith burnt down, the crops and trees were destroyed, and the inhabitants slaughtered. Mackenzie in his Diary tells some grim stories about this man, who seems to have combined a keen sense of humour with utter insensibility to pity. He told his guest that,-suspecting a small chief of playing tricks, he con- demned him to pay a heavy fine, and to enforce payment had the poor wretch stripped and cold water poured over him night and day. "Mais figurez vous, mon ami," he added, " ce brigand est mort sans me rien donner !"

Mrs. Mackenzie, who, although her name does not appear on the title-page, is the acknowledged author of the book, relates over again the oft-told yet ever thrilling story of the first in- vasion of Afghanistan,—the most terrible record of imbecility and blindness, of blunders and crimes, of heroism and baseness, of selfishness and self-sacrifice, of great deeds and dire disasters, in the annals of British India, if not of the British Empire. When the outbreak took place at Cabal in which Sir Alexander Burnes, his brother, and William Broadfoot perished, Mackenzie was in a fort just outside the city, called Neshan Khan. This fort, which contained few soldiers but many women, was hotly beseiged by a large body of Afghans, and though General Elphinstone had 5,000 men in the cantonment, and might easily have rescued him, he could not muster up sufficient resolution to make the attempt. In the end, Mackenzie was forced to abandon the Neshan Khan. "For two days he fought," wrote one of his brother officers, " and then cut his way to the larger force, who did not seem able to cut their way to him, bringing in all his men and the crowd of women and children safe, him- self getting two sabre wounds. A more heroic action was never performed."

One of the most terrible episodes in the tragedy of Cabal was the treacherous murder of Sir William Macnaghten, of which Mackenzie was an eye-witness. When told that the Envoy had agreed to hold a conference with Akbar Khan, Mackenzie warned him that it was a plot for his destruction ; but poor Macnaghten would not draw back. A thousand deaths, he said, were preferable to the life he had lately led. Mackenzie was also in great peril, and, as the following extract from his narrative will show, escaped only by great good-fortune. After saying that during the interview he stood apart, convers- ing with an old Afghan acquaintance, by name Ghnlam Moyan- ud-din, he continues

:- "I afterwards remembered that my friend betrayed much anxiety as to where my pistols were, and why I did not carry them on my person. I answered that, although I wore my sword for form, it was not necessary at a friendly conference to be armed cap-h-pie At length my attention was called off from what he was saying by observing that a number of men, armed to the teeth, had gradually approached the scene of the conference, and were drauiug round in a sort of circle. This Lawrence and I pointed out to some of the chief men, who affected at first to drive them off with whips. I again resumed my conversation with Gbulam Moyan-nd-din, when suddenly I hoard Muhammad Akbar call out, Bigir ! bigir !' (Seize ! seize!) and turning round I saw him grasp the Envoy's left hand with an expression on his face of most diabolical ferocity. Sultan .1in laid hold of the Envoy's right hand, they dragged him in a stooping position down the hillock, the only words I heard poor Sir William utter being' As barai Khndli!' (For God's sake !). I saw his faoe, however, and it was full of horror and astonishment. I did not see what became of Trevor ; but Lawrence was dragged past me by several Afghans, whom I saw wrest his weapons from him. Up to this moment I was so engrossed by observing what was taking place, that I actually was not aware that my own right arm was mastered, that my urbane friend held a pistol to my temple, and that I was surrounded by a circle of Ghaljais .with drawn swords and cooked jnziils. Resistance was in vain ; so, listening to the exhortations of Ghulam Moyan-ud-din, which were enforced by the whistling of divers ballets over my head, I hurried through the snow with him to the place where his horse was stand- ing, being despoiled en route of my sabre, and narrowly escaping divers attempts made on my life. As I mounted behind my captor, now my energetic defender, the crowd increased around us ; the cries of Kill the Kafir!' became more vehement, and although we hurried off at a fast canter, it was with the utmost difficulty that Ghtilam Moyan-ud-din, although assisted by one or two friends, could ward off the sword-cots aimed at me, the rascals being afraid to fire lest they should kill my conductor."

In the end, after getting a heavy blow on the head from a bludgeon, and after his faithful defender had received a wound on his shoulder while shielding him with his body, Mackenzie reached the fort, and was placed in a dungeon. For what befell him in his captivity—for the account how he went with A.kbar Khan and General Elphinstone's doomed army to the entrance of the Khurd Cabal Pass, how he returned with Akbar in the character of an hostage, how Akbar afterwards sent him with a message to General Pollock at Jellalabad, and how ho twice crossed the mountains under the escort of a noted robber, literally carrying his life in his hand,—we must refer our readers to the narrative itself, which is full of " hairbreadth 'scapes and disastrous chances," and deeply interesting.

In the mutiny at Bolarum, in 1853, where Mackenzie was Brigadier, he behaved with singular heroism. Accompanied by a single officer, Lieutenant Murray, he faced, unarmed, at the gate of his compound, a crowd of mutinous sowars. He might easily have escaped, but feeling that " as a gentleman he could not run without a blow being struck," stood his ground, and was so frightfully wounded that for many days he was like to die, and recovered as by a miracle. While he lay in bed, a garbled account of the incident reached Lord Dalhousie, then Governor-General, who, instead of rewarding Brigadier Xackenzie for an act of rare courage and devotion, blamed him for rashness and indiscretion. In many other respects he re- ceived scant justice. It was not until 1867 that he was made C.B., though he had been pronounced worthy of the honour both by Lord Dalhousie and Sir Charles Napier; and not until- 1871, after forty-six years' service, that he was made a major- general. It is probable that he owed his slow advancement to

his outspokenness; for, as he never stooped to flatter his supe- riors, so he never hesitated to condemn proceedings of which he could not approve. The second invasion of Afghanistan seemed to him as iniquitous as the first ; and in 1878 he openly stigmatised the impending war against the Ameer as both a blunder and a crime. It is interesting to know that Marshal Von Moltke, whom General Mackenzie met at Silesia in 1880, fully agreed with him as to the uselessness of Lord Beacons- field's war for a scientific frontier, as well from a military as a political stand-point. " The Russians," he said, " have enough to do in holding their own position in Turkestan."

Mrs. Mackenzie is evidently a woman of wide reading and many accomplishments, and her book is both interesting and well written. We have only one fault to find with her. Her attack on the memory of Lord Canning, seeing that he is not here to defend himself, is not generous ; and, seeing that he complimented her husband on his distinguished services, and made him Governor-General's Agent at Murshedabad, not in the best of taste. Moreover, according to the testimony of Mr. Seton Karr, and other friends of Lord Canning, who have written to the daily papers on the subject, her charges are either exaggerated or imaginary ; and should her book go to a second edition, as it deserves to do, we trust that she will

either modify or withdraw them.