not his father's brother, as Mr Oliphant erroneously states. We are more disposed to credit the account of the affair given by Captain Smith, who, we conclude, from his title-page, was political assistant at Nepaul at the time it occurred, and in that capacity must have had the best opportunities of knowing the exact details of so important an event in the political annals of Khatmandu as the murder of a powerful minister. If we do not greatly err, one of the chief duties of a political assistant in India is that of keeping the diary of the Residency to which he is attached; and we cannot but suppose that Captain Smith has here repeated that which, in all probability, he recorded at the time in the usual routine of his duty. We do not think it is particularly graceful on the part of Messrs Cavenagh and Oliphant thus to put forward and exaggerate the least favourable view of the conduct of a man to whom they are both indebted the former for good pay, the latter for kindness and hearty hospitality-who is well known to be warmly attached to his British allies, extremely anxious for their good opinion, and unable, owing to his ignorance of our language, to reply to the accusations brought against him, however unfounded and galling. Captain Cavenagh's longer connection with Jung Bahadoor renders him more blameable than Mr Oliphant, for whom we must make some allowance on the ground of youthful heedlessness, and of his evident anxiety to make a telling book. The young proctor from Colombo is a great lover of startling effects; and some of those he produces are quite worthy of Astley's circus. His account of the events that ensued upon the assassination of Guggun Singh (Mahtabur Singh's successor) would need but a little expansion to form a most imposing trans-pontine melodrama, which, aided by live horses and blank cartridges, could not fail to attract crowded audiences. Here he again heaps all manner of crimes at Jung Bahadoor's door, taking his cue, as usual, from Captain Cavenagh, who gives the same story, but in less elevated strain. It is an account of a Nepaulese coup d'état, and is a specimen of Mr Oliphant's fine style, a style of which we strongly advise him to get cured before again committing himself to print. "At this moment Jung gave the signal for the seizure of Futteh Jung. The attempt was no sooner made than his son, Karak Bikram Sah, imagining that his father's life was at stake, rushed forward to save him, and, seizing a kukri, had already dealt Bum Bahadoor a severe blow, when he was cut down by Dere Shum Shere Bahadoor, then a youth of sixteen or seventeen. Futteh Jung, vowing vengeance on the murderers of his son, sprang forward to avenge his death, already seriously wounded, would have and, in another moment, Bum Bahadoor, fallen at his feet, when the report of a rifle rang through the hall, and the timely bullet, sped by the hand of Jung Bahadoor, laid the gallant father by the side of the no less gallant son. There still confronted him (Jung) fourteen of the nobles, whose leader had been slain before their eyes, and who thirsted for vengeance; but the appearance at his side of that faithful body-guard, on whose fidelity the safety of the minister has more than once depended, precluded them from seizing the murderer of their chief. It was but too clear to these unhappy men what was to be the last act of this tragedy. Jung received the rifle from the hand of the man next him, and levelled it at the foremost of the little band. Fourteen times did that fatal report ring through the hall, as one by one the rifles were handed to him who could trust no eye but his own, and at each shot another noble lay stretched on the ground. man Singh alone escaped the deadly aim; he managed to reach the door, but there he was cut almost in two by the sword of Krishn Bahadoor. Abi "Thus, in a few moments, and by his own hand, had Jung rid himself of those whom he most feared. In that one room lay the corpses of the highest nobles of the land, shrouded by the dense smoke still hanging in the confined atmosphere, as if to hide the horrors of a tragedy that would not bear the light of day." Seduced by the odour of Surrey sawdust that emanates from Mr Oliphant's flowery periods, we have been led into a longer extract than the intrinsic value of the text warrants. It will be observed that all Mr O.'s rifles "ring through the hall," and we need hardly direct attention to the fine poetical figure of the corpses shrouded in smoke. We are rather struck by the very time Captain Cavenagh was inditing his precious volume, Mr Hodgson was within a few days' post of him, at Darjeeling, in the Himalayas. It would have been an easy matter for this dealer in random assertions to have addressed him, and to have obtained from himself the satisfactory explanation which we are convinced he would have given of his conduct at the time of Bhem Sen Thappa's downfall. If "one word " from Mr Hodgson would have saved the life of so eminent a person as General Bhem Sen, it is evident that he was guilty of a grave dereliction of duty in not speaking it. When imputing such neglect to a representative of the British Government in any part of the world, Captain Cavenagh was bound to enter more into detail, and to state his grounds for the accusation. We well know that, since we first possessed India, noninterference has ever been one of the great principles acted upon by each successive Government; but in a case where so trifling an exertion on the part of a British resident would (according to Captain Cavenagh) have proved the salvation of a distinguished minister, we cannot for an instant believe that the exertion would not have been promptly and willingly made-not the less willingly, certainly, that, as we know, Mr Hodgson was once the intimate friend of Bhem Sen. The subject, however, scarcely needs dwelling upon. No jury would convict on such contemptible evidence as Captain Cavenagh's hearsay. Whilst upon the subject of rash and unproved accusations, we are led to consider an affair which occupies a very prominent place in the narratives of Messrs Cavenagh, Oliphant, and Smith. We refer to the murder of Mahtabur Singh, uncle of Jung Bahadoor, to whom the crime has been popularly imputed, but against whom it has never been proved by satisfactory evidence. Captain Cavenagh tells the tale in his usual confident, offhand manner, as though none must dispute his verdict; Mr Oliphant coincides with him in all the main points; Captain Smith relates the story with an important difference. We give the corresponding extracts from the three books: a "On the night of the 17th "One night, about eleven "The unfortunate MataMay 1845," says Captain o'clock," (this is Mr Oli- bur," Captain Smith writes, Cavenagh," he (Mahtabur phant,) "a messenger came "was aroused at eleven o'clock Singh) was summoned to the from the palace to inform at night, and a peremptory palace. The order was too Mahtabur Singh that his ser- order for his attendance coniperemptory to admit of his de- vices were required by their pelled him to appear at court. clining to attend. No sooner Majesties-for the Queen had The Rajah grossly abused had he reached the apartment always kept up a semblance him, in which he was ably in which the Rajah and Rani of friendship with him. With- aided by the heir apparent, were sitting, and approached out the slightest suspicion, he telling him that he was to pay his respects, than a repaired to the palace; but traitor, and that he had caused shot was fired by General scarcely had he ascended the him, by false representations, Jung Bahadoor, from behind great staircase, and was en- to destroy the late Pandce a screen at one end of the tering the room in which their ministers, who, he now found, room. The unfortunate Sir- Majesties were seated, when were innocent. dar rushed forward as if to the report of a pistol rang implore mercy; but having through the room; the fatal received a mortal wound, only bullet pierced the heart of the proceeded a few paces ere he gallant old man, who stagfell, and was almost instan- gered forwards, and fell at the taneously despatched by re-feet of the wretched woman peated blows of the kukri, (Nepaul knife,) inflicted by persons in attendance on the monarch."-Rough Notes, p. 229. who had been the instigator Now, there is not the slightest doubt that Mahtabur Singh was treacherously murdered, at the instigation of the Rani. But, in our "A signal was then given, and twenty soldiers moved up with loaded muskets. The Rajah ordered them to fire at and destroy the traitor. The unfortunate Matabar fell, frightfully wounded, and in this state he implored mercy. But the Rajah ordered the soldiers to reload and despatch him. This murder occurred in the upper rooms of the palace."-Five Years in Nepaul, ii. 103. opinion, there is room for very considerable doubt whether Jung Bahadoor's hands are stained with the blood of his father's brother-in-law not his father's brother, as Mr Oliphant erroneously states. We are more disposed to credit the account of the affair given by Captain Smith, who, we conclude, from his title-page, was political assistant at Nepaul at the time it occurred, and in that capacity must have had the best opportunities of knowing the exact details of so important an event in the political annals of Khatmandu as the murder of a powerful minister. If we do not greatly err, one of the chief duties of a political assistant in India is that of keeping the diary of the Residency to which he is attached; and we cannot but suppose that Captain Smith has here repeated that which, in all probability, he recorded at the time in the usual routine of his duty. We do not think it is particularly graceful on the part of Messrs Cavenagh and Oliphant thus to put forward and exaggerate the least favourable view of the conduct of a man to whom they are both indebted the former for good pay, the latter for kindness and hearty hospitality-who is well known to be warmly attached to his British allies, extremely anxious for their good opinion, and unable, owing to his ignorance of our language, to reply to the accusations brought against him, however unfounded and galling. Captain Cavenagh's longer connection with Jung Bahadoor renders him more blameable than Mr Oliphant, for whom we must make some allowance on the ground of youthful heedlessness, and of his evident anxiety to make a telling book. The young proctor from Colombo is a great lover of startling effects; and some of those he produces are quite worthy of Astley's circus. His account of the events that ensued upon the assassination of Guggun Singh (Mahtabur Singh's successor) would need but a little expansion to form a most imposing trans-pontine melodrama, which, aided by live horses and blank cartridges, could not fail to attract crowded audiences. Here he again heaps all manner of crimes at Jung Bahadoor's door, taking his cue, as usual, from Captain Cavenagh, who gives the same story, but in less elevated strain. It is an account of a Nepaulese coup d'état, and is a specimen of Mr Oliphant's fine style, a style of which we strongly advise him to get cured before again committing himself to print. "At this moment Jung gave the signal for the seizure of Futteh Jung. The attempt was no sooner made than his son, Karak Bikram Sah, imagining that his father's life was at stake, rushed forward to save him, and, seizing a kukri, had already dealt Bum Bahadoor a severe blow, when he was cut down by Dere Shum Shere Bahadoor, then a youth of sixteen or seventeen. Futteh Jung, vowing vengeance on the murderers of his son, sprang forward to avenge his death, already seriously wounded, would have and, in another moment, Bum Bahadoor, fallen at his feet, when the report of a rifle rang through the hall, and the timely bullet, sped by the hand of Jung Bahadoor, laid the gallant father by the side of the no less gallant son... There still confronted him (Jung) fourteen of the nobles, whose leader had been slain before their eyes, and who thirsted for vengeance; but the appearance at his side of that faithful body-guard, on whose fidelity the safety of the minister has more than once depended, precluded them from seizing the murderer of their chief. It was but too clear to these unhappy men what was to be the last act of this tragedy. Jung received the rifle from the hand of the man next him, and levelled it at the foremost of the little band. Fourteen times did that fatal report ring through the hall, as one by one the rifles were handed to him who could trust no eye but his own, and at each shot another noble lay stretched on the ground. Abiman Singh alone escaped the deadly aim; he managed to reach the door, but there he was cut almost in two by the sword of Krishn Bahadoor. "Thus, in a few moments, and by his own hand, had Jung rid himself of those whom he most feared. In that one room lay the corpses of the highest nobles of the land, shrouded by the dense smoke still hanging in the confined atmosphere, as if to hide the horrors of a tragedy that would not bear the light of day." Seduced by the odour of Surrey sawdust that emanates from Mr Oliphant's flowery periods, we have been led into a longer extract than the intrinsic value of the text warrants. It will be observed that all Mr O.'s rifles "ring through the hall," and we need hardly direct attention to the fine poetical figure of the corpses shrouded in smoke. We are rather struck by the improbability of fourteen Nepaulese nobles standing quietly to be shot down, one after another, instead of pursuing the course which was to be expected from the brave and warlike character of their nation, and rushing upon their enemies, to die desperately fighting. But the fact is, that we attach extremely little credit to the whole story, which we suspect was palmed upon Captain Cavenagh by some mischievous Ghoorka, whom he indiscreetly pestered with silly questions. We are confirmed in our mistrust by a reference to Captain Egerton, to whose journal we have as yet paid less attention than it really deserves. Although this honourable author be now and then a little grand and Babadoorish in his tone, we may at once pronounce the few chapters of his book which relate to Nepaul (with the portion relating to British India we have not at present to concern ourselves) to be in decidedly superior taste, and altogether a favourable contrast, to the works of Messrs Oliphant and Cavenagh. There is no book-making or ambitious writing in his pages; he has just logged down, in a plain manner, what he noticed on the road, without dragging in unauthenticated stories, or indulging in unhandsome attacks on a hospitable entertainer; and thus has he composed a light, but very readable and pleasant, work. Here is a page of it, containing his account of Jung Bahadoor's rise: "Saturday, Feb. 1.-Raining cats and dogs. The Chundagiri Pass is said to be so slippery that it is doubtful whether we should get across it, and it would, at all events, be very difficult and very bad work for the Coolies, so we resolved to stay till to-morrow. I heard to-day what I suppose is the true history of our friend Jung's accession to power. The first move was the assassination of a certain general, Guggun Singh, a great friend and ally of the queen, or maharanee. In the confusion arising from that murder, three other chiefs were assassinated-by whom, nobody seems to know; but probably friend Jung was at the bottom of it. One was also cut down by Budree Nur Sing. The maharanee's object seems all along to have been the placing her own son on the throne, which she could only contrive by removing the king's son (the present rajah.) This, Jung would not at all agree to (he was then not prime-minister, I believe, but a man of authority in the army.) So the good lady settled to do away with him too. She had long been the real ruler of the country, and had not been sparing of blood in enforcing her himself off to Patan, in a fright, soon after authority, the maharajah having taken the massacre of the chiefs before men tioned. In furtherance of her plans, she got another friend of hers appointed prime minister, with power to get rid of her enemies. Jung, however, got intimation of this, and, summoning his friends, he started instantly for the Durbar, where he found the maharajah and the heirapparent together. On his way he met the new soi-disant prime-minister, and after a few civil remarks on that gentleman's conduct, he effectually stopped his game, by making a sign to an attendant, who instantly killed him with a rifle-shot. That enemy removed, he had little difficulty in getting rid of the remainder. The maharanee and her sons were sent to Benares, whither the maharajah, after his deposition, subsequently followed them, and Jung has ever since been in possession of the supreme power." It is evident that this sketch was written with Mr Erskine, the political agent, and the author's host, at his elbow, in the Residency; doubtless as an agreeable enough manner of beguiling the time until the "cats and dogs" ceased to descend. Captain Egerton says not a word about the fourteen dead hits made by Jung Bahadoor, although he carefully notes the shooting of the "soi-disant prime-minister." This is a strong additional reason for discrediting Messrs Cavenagh and Oliphant's version of the wholesale murders. Captain Egerton, it will also be observed, says nothing of Jung's having killed his uncle. Surely, had the fact of his having done so ever been ascertained, or even had the circumstance been only strongly rumoured, or generally credited, some one of the inmates of the Residency would have told the bloody tale to Captain Egerton, and he would have entered it in his journal, through which we have searched in vain for any reference to such an affair, and for the expression of censure which would stead of this, we find that Captain doubtless have accompanied it. InEgerton concludes his short narrative of the events in connection with Jung Bahadoor's rise with the following highly favourable remarks-remarks which he assuredly would not have made had he believed his hero guilty of the acts charged against him by Captain Cavenagh and Mr Oliphant:"He (Jung) does not appear to have made any sanguinary use of this power; on the contrary, he rather comes out of the affair with credit, when one considers his education and the customs of the country." The reader must observe that, whilst Captain Egerton had excellent opportunities, as an inmate of the house of the Governor-general's agent at Khatmandu, of obtaining correct information concerning the recent political changes and events in that country, his acquaintance with Jung Bahadoor was so brief that it would be absurd to suspect him of distortion of facts arising from personal partiality, even though the character of a British naval officer did not sufficiently preclude the suspicion. On the other hand, Captain Cavenagh, long attached to the mission, and Mr Oliphant, whom the Nepaulese ambassador picked up at Colombo, took with him to Khatmandu, treated and entertained with unbounded hospitality, have returned the minister's friendship and confidence by circulating, as matter of history, tales much to his disadvantage, and which they would be greatly embarrassed to prove. Poor Jung Bahadoor may well exclaim, "Save me from my friends!" Captain Cavenagh is to blame for such requital of kindness and good companionship. We acquit Mr Oliphant of malice prepense, although his book is, perhaps, the more really mischievous of the two, for he intersperses his narratives of bloody murders with praises of Jung's generous and noble qualities," and "estimable traits," calculated to impress his readers with the belief that it is only by doing violence to his feelings, and by reason of his zeal for truth, that he prevails with himself to display the dark pages in the history of a man for whom he cherishes a warm and friendly regard. Another notable point in his narrative of these matters is, that he professes to have heard many of the particulars in the form of admissions from Jung Bahadoor's own lips (as at pages 112 and 143.) Now, if we admitted this to 66 be exactly true, it would prove exactly nothing, except considerable indiscretion on Mr Oliphant's part in thus publishing to all the world admissions made in confidential intimacy. For the Ghoorka character is so subtle and strange, and Ghoorka motives of action are so deeply concealed and incomprehensible, that it is impossible to say what peculiar mental ratiocination may have influenced Jung Bahadoor to misstate facts or mystify his young English friend. But the fact is, that we reject, as untrustworthy, any information which Mr Oliphant may profess to have derived from the mouth of the Nepaulese minister, until he satisfies us that he has at least a colloquial knowledge of Hindustani. Jung Bahadoor never knew fifty words of English. We cannot say how many words of Hindustani are at Mr Oliphant's command, but he himself confesses his "limited knowledge" of that language; and certainly his book contains many indications that that knowledge was indeed of a most limited description. And when he was subsequently travelling in India with Lord Grosvenor, Mr Leveson Gower, and Captain Egerton, various passages in the journal of the latter gentleman show pretty plainly that none of the party had more than a smattering of the native tongue. Such are the slender attainments, as a Hindustani linguist, of the gentleman who chronicles Jung Bahadoor's history from his own lips. It is unnecessary further to pursue the investigation of Jung Bahadoor's conduct in the various critical situations of his eventful career. Some of our readers will, perhaps, think we have already devoted to the matter more of our space than its interest warrants. We think differently. Jung Bahadoor is unquestionably a very distinguished and remarkable man. He is the first Hindoo of high caste and conspicuous rank-coming, too, from the very hotbed of Hindooism, of which Pusputnath is the most sacred shrine-who has had courage and strength of mind to risk himself in Europe, braving unknown perils, the prejudices of his countrymen, and the maledictions of the fanatical fakeers, who, when he |