Thus, in rejoicings and ceremonial display, terminated the labours of the veterans of Gibraltar.
Calculating from the commencement of the blockade to the cessation of hostilities, the siege lasted three years, seven months, and twelve days; and throughout that long period the garrison had been kept continually on the watch, enjoying no interval of repose, exposed to the attacks of a powerful enemy, worn with fatigue, and harassed by all the incidents of a protracted blockade. They had sometimes failed in the strict requirements of discipline, and acts of plunder and violence had occasionally tarnished the lustre of their laurels; but in courage and patience and intrepidity they had never been wanting, and their morale improved as the siege advanced. The stir and tumult of the battle-field, with its brilliant episodes of valour, its charges of cavalry, its encounter of bayonets, its individual deeds of heroism, and its exhibition of strategical genius, necessarily lend themselves more readily to the description of the chronicler, and exercise a more powerful influence on the imagination of the reader, than the monotonous incidents of a siege. It is difficult to invest with any attraction the daily record of garrison work; and the reader has no means of forming an idea of its arduous character. He wearies of bastions and batteries; of rounds of shot and shell expended; of labours the issue of which is not apparent; of demonstrations which are seemingly all in vain. Yet it is certain that a campaign in the open field, or a great battle like that of Waterloo, makes less demand on the best qualities of a soldier than a protracted siege. The long roll of victories of the British army is emblazoned with names which will never be forgotten so long as England retains her imperial spirit or her pride in the past, and among those names, if loyalty and true bravery and heroic endurance are to receive their just recompense, conspicuous and thrice-honoured will always shine that of Gibraltar! And the true Englishman, remembering how steadfastly Elliot and his veterans maintained their hold upon the Rock, will sympathize with the generous sentiment of the poet, when he says,—
“Nobly, nobly Cape St. Vincent to the north-west died away;
Sunset ran, one glorious blood-red, reeking into Cadiz Bay,
Bluish ’mid the burning water, full in face Trafalgar lay;
In the dimmest north-east distance dawned Gibraltar grand and gray;
‘Here, and here, did England help me; how can I help England?’—say;
Whoso turns as I, this evening, turn to God to praise and pray,
While Jove’s planet rises yonder, silent over Africa.”
Since the Great Siege no attempt has been made to wrest the Rock from our firm British grasp; nor are we likely to surrender it, holding it as we do in the interests of Europe. Its military importance may be less than it was in the days before steam became one of the instruments of war; but still it is one of the keys of the Mediterranean, which we cannot afford to see in the hands of any other Power. We do not hold it selfishly, being concerned, not to shut up the Mediterranean, but to keep it free for the commerce of every nation. Moreover, it is a symbol of power which we cannot relinquish without disgrace.
In the later annals of Gibraltar the chief event is the mutiny of the garrison, under the governorship of the Duke of Kent, the father of the Queen.
The young prince, when he entered on a military career, was sent to Hanover to learn the duties of his profession, and there he acquired that scrupulous regard for the smallest externals and that “pipe-clayed pedantry” which, before the days of Moltke, were the vice of the German army. Afterwards he was sent to Geneva, where he soon fell into debt, owing to the meagre allowance which he received from his royal father. Returning to England, in the hope that George III. would assist, he was ordered to start in twenty-four hours for Gibraltar, with the rank and position of colonel of the 7th Fusiliers. His rigid disciplinarian habits here made him unpopular with the common soldiers, who, however, at that time contained a large percentage of desperate and dissolute characters; but by the officers of the garrison he was as much esteemed on account of his excellent qualities as he was respected on account of his rank.
In the course of his professional career the Duke of Kent served in Nova Scotia, and in 1799 acted as commander-in-chief of the British forces in North America. Afterwards he was again sent to Gibraltar—this time as governor. The garrison was in a state of open insubordination, and had acquired an ill repute for its drunkenness and profligacy. To cleanse this Augean stable, a kind of military Hercules was required; and the duke was chosen, partly on account of his rank, partly on account of his known strictness as a disciplinarian. He went, carrying with him the most positive instructions, and relying upon promises of hearty support from the British Cabinet. A more unpleasant task seldom fell to a prince of the royal blood, for it could not be efficiently discharged without loss of popularity. The duke, however, set to work most vigorously. He abolished one half the wine-shops; established a regimental canteen; ordered out the troops for proper periods of drill and exercise; and punished laxity and disobedience with an unfaltering hand. In the course of his reforms he found occasion to deal severely with some of the officers, and there is reason to fear that they did their utmost to foster a spirit of revenge among the private soldiers. However this may be, a mutiny broke out, with the object, it is said, of compelling the duke to retire on board ship, and leave the garrison; though it may well be doubted whether the mutineers, in the intoxication of success, would not have gone further, and perhaps have stained their hands with blood. Happily, a part of the garrison stood firm; the mutineers disagreed among themselves; the outbreak proved a failure; and the ringleaders were arrested and tried by court-martial. Ten were sentenced to death, but only three were executed.
In less than three months all symptoms of disaffection subsided; the influence of a steady discipline was felt in the improved condition of the soldiers, morally and physically; and the duke was entitled to pride himself on the full success with which he had accomplished the difficult duty imposed upon him. At this moment, to his utter surprise, he was suddenly dismissed from his post, and recalled to England, to give an explanation of his conduct. The prince obeyed these ungracious orders; and on his return, finding himself unable to obtain a distinct statement of any charges made against him, demanded a court-martial. This was curtly refused, and the duke involved in suspicions which he was not allowed to dissipate. That he was unfairly treated cannot be doubted; he was made the victim of personal and political intrigues. He had the satisfaction, however, of receiving from the inhabitants of Gibraltar a testimonial of attachment and respect, valued at one thousand guineas; while the British adjutant-general pronounced his “military code of instruction for the garrison of Gibraltar” an “enlightened and excellent system.”
Of late years the command at Gibraltar has usually been given to some officer of rank who has distinguished himself by his services in the field. It has been held by such men as Sir William Gom and Sir Fenwick Williams of Kars; and at the present time (1879) it is in the hands of one of our most distinguished soldiers, Lord Napier of Magdala. As the first of the line of strongholds which guard our highway to India, it still possesses and must always possess a value and a significance; and it is well that such a post should be reserved for a veteran general, who, in case of need, will know how to utilise its capabilities and maintain its reputation for impregnability.