  From this time forward the story of Lord Elgin's life is no longer a record of stirring incidents, of difficulties triumphantly overcome, or novel and entangled situations successfully mastered. The career indeed is still arduous, and the toil unremitting, but the course is well-defined. Compared with the varied conflicts and anxieties of the preceding period, there is something of the repose of declining day, after the heat and dust of a brilliant noon; something even, young as he was in years, of the gloom of approaching night. It seems almost as if a shadow, cast by the coming end, rested upon his path. [Sidenote: Vice-royalty of India.] He had not been more than a month at home when the Vice-royalty of India, about to be vacated by Lord Canning, was offered to him, in the Queen's name, by Lord Palmerston. The splendid offer of the most magnificent Governorship in the world was accepted, but not without something of a vague presentiment that he should never return from it. This feeling was expressed with his usual frankness and simplicity, when in the course of an address delivered at Dunfermline, some months before his departure, after referring to former partings, uniformly followed by happy meetings, he said:— [Sidenote: Forebodings.] But, Gentlemen, I cannot conceal from myself, nor from you, the fact that the parting which is now about to take place is a far more serious matter than any of those which have preceded it; and that the vast amount of labour devolving upon the Governor-General of India, the insalubrity of the climate, and the advance of years, all tend to render the prospect of our again meeting more remote and uncertain. Independently of any such forebodings, there were sorrows on which it is hardly necessary to dwell, but which were felt keenly by one so devoted to 'that peaceful home-life towards which he was always aspiring;'[1] the pain of tearing himself again from the children now growing up to need in an especial manner a father's presence, and of leaving the mother of these children, for a time at least, to contend alone with cares and anxieties from which it would have been his greatest happiness to shield and protect her. Something, too, there may have been of the depression which breathes in the poet's complaint, 'the roll of mighty poets is made up'—a feeling that the work of pacifying and settling India had been so thoroughly accomplished by Lord Dalhousie and Lord Canning, that the field no longer contained any laurels to be reaped by their successor. 'I succeed,' he used to say, 'to a great man and a great war, with a humble task to be humbly discharged.' [Sidenote: Visit to Osborne.] But these thoughts and feelings, though they may have dimmed the brightness of his anticipations, could not for long overcloud that 'unfailing cheerfulness' which contributed much to make him throughout life so successful himself, and so helpful to others: still less could they for a moment check the alacrity with which he set himself to prepare for his new duties. For some time he remained in London; after which he spent several pleasant months in Scotland, laying up a store of happy recollections to which his thoughts in after days often turned. Early in January 1862, accompanied by Lady Elgin, he went to Osborne on a visit to the Queen; who even in those early days of widowhood, roused herself to receive the first Viceroy of India ever appointed by the sole act of the Crown. On the 28th of the same month he quitted the shores of England; and, after a rapid and uneventful journey, reached Calcutta on March 12. As Lady Elgin was unable to accompany him, he resumed the habit of conversing with her, so to speak, through the medium of a journal; from which some brief extracts are here given, less for the sake of the few incidents which they record, than for the glimpses which they give into the mind and heart of the writer:- [Sidenote: Man overboard!] H.M.S. 'Banshee.'—Marseilles.—January 31st.—Only think of my writing again from Marseilles! I was breakfasting yesterday, when there was a cry of 'A man overboard!' We went on deck. After a while, the man—who had enormous water-boots on, but who was fortunately a good swimmer—appeared on the surface, caught hold of a life-preserver which had been thrown out to him, was picked up by a boat, and hoisted on board. After a bumper of brandy, he seemed none the worse. But in the meantime we had sprung our rudder-head (the same sort of accident as befell the 'Great Eastern'). It must have been bad, or it could not have gone as it did. The captain said to me: 'We may go on for a few hours, and see what we can do, and then return if necessary.' I did not see the fun of this plan, and suggested that we had better at once find out what was the matter. We returned to port, and, after a long deliberation, a scheme of patching was resolved upon…. It is most vexatious to be doing nothing, when my moments have been of late so precious and so hurried. * * * * 'Ferooz.'—Gulf of Suez.—February 9th.—When I got on board this morning my heart smote me a little for having discouraged your coming out with me, for nothing can be more comfortable than this ship has been made, with a view to the accommodation of poor Lady Canning and you. Eight P.M.—It is very lonely to be spending this Sunday evening by myself, after the many happy ones I have enjoyed with you and the children during the past three months; and yet I would not forego the recollection of those happy days though it deepens the gloom of the present. Surely, whatever may happen to us all, it is something gained to have this retrospect in store. [Sidenote: Old MSS.] February 12th.—Going on as smoothly as ever…. I have been reading over some old manuscript books, written from twenty to twenty-five years ago, and containing a record of my thoughts and doings at that remote time. It is very interesting and useful to look back. I was working very hard during those years, searching after truth and right, with no positive occupation but that of managing the Broomhall affairs, and riding at a sort of single anchor with politics. Would it have been better for me if I had had more engrossing positive work? There is something to be said on both sides in answering that question. However, these books will not be again read by me, for I shall consign them to the Red Sea. February 13th.—The breeze is freshening and dead ahead…. I have been thinking of the past, and remembering that just twenty years ago, at this same season, I set out on my first visit to the Tropics. What a strange career it has been! How grateful I should be to Providence for the protection I have enjoyed! How wild it seems, to be about, at the close of twenty years, to begin again. [Sidenote: A gale.] Sunday, February 16th.—A bad time since I last wrote. We have had a very strong gale…. There is less motion to-day, probably because we are under the lee of the Arabian coast. I could not wish that you had been with me while we were undergoing this misery; and we have made slow progress, but may reach Aden to-morrow. It has been a sad time…. I could not read, and have been lying down, thinking over so many things!… But there may, please God, be a good time beyond. I have been thinking of the little party in your room on this day, and endeavouring to join with you all. [Sidenote: A moonlight night.] February 19th.—Gulf of Aden.—Seven A.M.—I have just had my first walk on deck for this day. It is fine, and the head wind keeps up a cool draught of air for us. The night was pleasant and cool, and I spent an hour before I went to bed, walking up and down the bridge, between the paddle-boxes, looking at a great moon, a little past the full, climbing up the heavens before us, and (as Coleridge says, I think in the notes to the Ancient Mariner, of the stars) entering unannounced among the groups of stars as a guest certainly expected —and yet there is a silent joy on her arrival. February 27th.—Near Ceylon.—According to the account of our captain, who hails from Bombay, the Governor there must be very well off as regards climate. He has the sea air at Bombay itself; 2,000 feet of elevation at Poonah; and 5,000 on a mountain accessible in two days from Bombay. So that his family may always live in a cool climate, and he can join them when business permits. Perhaps at some future time the convenience of the situation of Bombay, its greater vicinity to England, &c., may place the Governor-General there; but this will not happen in our time. [Sidenote: White ants.] As I went into my cabin yesterday before dinner, I observed a swarm of white flies with long wings, by the side of one of my open ports. I found out that they were white ants which had burst through the wood- work, and which seem to be provided with wings under such circumstances, in order that they may migrate. The wood-work inside near the place from which they burst out, was completely destroyed by them, and reduced to a pulp. It appears that there are quantities of these creatures in this ship. It is believed that they are only in the scantling or upper wood-work. It is to be hoped that this may be so; for they devour timber with wonderful rapidity, and ships have been lost by their eating away portions under water. [Sidenote: Madras.] March 7th.—Madras.—Reached the anchorage at 4.30 P.M. We soon got into one of the country boats made for landing in the surf (without nails, and all the planks sewn together). We were hoisted by the waves upon the beach, and found there a considerable crowd, with the Governor, Sir W. Denison; Sir H. Grant, etc., and a guard of honour, to receive us; Sir W.D. drove me out to this place, Guindy, which is about eight miles from the town, and consists of a charming airy house, in a large park. There was a full-dress dinner party and reception last night…. I have decided to proceed to Calcutta to- morrow. 'Ferooz.'—March 9th.—Sunday.—It was very hot during the service under the awning. But you and the little ones were remembered on this sweltering Bengal sea…. My visit to Madras was pleasant, and an agreeable change…. And I collected there papers and official documents enough to keep me going till I reach Calcutta. [Sidenote: Calcutta.] It was on the evening of March 11th that the 'Ferooz' anchored in 'Diamond Harbour,' the same anchorage at which, in the 'Shannon,' he had spent the night of August 8, 1857. The following day he was formally installed as Viceroy and Governor-General; receiving every kindness from Lord Canning, whom he describes as not looking so ill as he expected to find him, 'but,' he adds, 'those about him say he is far from right in health.' Six days later Lord Canning took his departure, and Lord Elgin was left to enter upon his new duties. [Sidenote: Death of Mr. Ritchie.] He had not been a fortnight in office when the uncertainty of life in Calcutta was brought home to him in a striking and ominous manner by the sudden death of an esteemed member of his Legislative Council, Mr. Ritchie. Writing on March 23 to Sir Charles Wood, who was then Secretary of State for India, he said:— We are truly here in the case of the women grinding at the mill. Who would have supposed a few days ago that poor Ritchie would have been the first summoned? About two days before Canning's departure, I asked him to come and see me; he talked with me for an hour. In the evening a note was received from his wife to say that they could not dine at Government House, as he was seriously indisposed. He appears to have felt the first symptom of his malady while he was sitting with me. This afternoon I attend his funeral. He is a great loss; he seems to have been very much liked and esteemed. The death of Mr. Ritchie, followed by the appointment of Sir B. Frere to the Government of Bombay, the promotion of Mr. Beadon to the Lieutenant- Governorship of Bengal, and the retirement of Mr. Laing owing to ill health, left only Sir R. Napier remaining of the five members of Council whom Lord Elgin found in office; and, though the vacant places were soon afterwards most ably filled, the change of councillors necessarily added to the labours of a new Governor-General. He did not, however, during the first comparatively cool months, find the work too much for him. 'On the contrary,' he wrote, 'time would be heavy on hand if I had not enough to fill it.' [Sidenote: Mode of Life.] The days (he wrote to Lady Elgin) are very uniform in their round of occupations, so I have little to record that is interesting. As long as one has health, it is easy to do a good deal of work here, because for twelve hours in the day (from 6 A.M. to 6 P.M.) there is no inducement to leave the house. I have hitherto had a little exercise before and after those hours. I rush into the garden when I awake, and return when the sun appears, glowing and angry, above the horizon. In another letter he describes the plan, characteristic of his sociable and genial temperament, which he adopted in order at once to get through his work, and to obtain a competent knowledge of persons whose opinions were worth having. I have two or three people to dine with me on every day on which I have not a great dinner. By this means I get acquainted with individuals, and if my bees have any honey in them I extract it at the moment of the day when it is most gushing.[2] It is very convenient, besides, because it enables me to converse by candlelight with persons who want to talk to me about their private affairs, instead of wasting daylight upon them. Unless I get out of sorts, I hope to become personally acquainted in this way with everyone, whose views may be useful to me, before I leave Calcutta, even to go to Barrackpore. As the season went on, the heat became greater. 'For the last few days,' he wrote on June 1, 'it has been very hot; quite as hot, they say, as it ever is. I am longing for the rains, which are to cool us, I am told.' The rains came, and, so long as they continued to fall, the temperature was lower: but 'the heavy, dull, damp, calm heat between the falls,' he found most trying. [Sidenote: Death of Lord Canning.] On July 6 came a fresh shock to his feelings—a fresh omen of evil to himself—in a telegraphic report of the death of the friend whose place he had so recently taken. At first he could hardly bring himself to credit the news. Is it indeed true (he wrote to Lady Elgin)? The last rumour of the kind was the report of my death, when I was mistaken for Eglinton; but this time I fear it is only too true! It will add to the alarm which India inspires. But poor Canning certainly never gave himself a good chance; at least not during the last year or two of his reign here. He took no exercise, and not even such relaxation of the mind as was procurable, though that is not much in the situation of Governor- General. When I told him that I should ask two or three people to dine with me daily, in order to get acquainted with all the persons I ought to know, and to talk matters over with them by candlelight, so as to save daylight for other work, he said: 'I was always so tired by dinner-time that I could not speak.' Perhaps he was only referring to his later experience; but still it was enough to break down any constitution, to wear oneself out for ever by the same train of thought, and the same routine of business. I think there was more in all this than met the eye, for work alone could not have done it. We shall have no confirmation of this rumour in letters for a fortnight or more…. Poor Canning! He leaves behind him sincere friends, but no one who was much dependent on him. In another letter he wrote:— So Canning and his wife, as Dalhousie and his, have fallen victims to India! Both however ruled here in stirring times, and accomplished great things, playing their lives against a not unworthy stake. I do not think that their fate is to be deplored. A few days later he wrote from Barrackpore, where he had gone to seek the change of air which his health now began imperatively to require:— This place looks wonderfully green. At the end of the broad walk on which I am gazing from my window, is Lady Canning's grave; it is not yet properly finished. Who will attend to it now? Meanwhile, it gives a melancholy character to the place, for the walk which it closes is literally the only private walk in the grounds. The flower garden, park, &c., are all open to the public…. Although Canning did not die at his post, I thought it right, as his death took place so soon after his departure from India, to recognise it officially, which I did by a public notification, and by directing a salute of minute guns to be fired. While still oppressed with these sad thoughts, he received a blow which [Sidenote: Death of General Bruce.] Barrackpore.—July 26th.—I went into Calcutta on the morning of the 23rd, in time to write by the afternoon packet; but I did not write, for I was met on my arrival by a telegraphic rumour, which quite overwhelmed me…. I should hardly have allowed myself to believe that the sad report could be true, had it not been for the account of Robert's illness, which your last letters had conveyed to me…. Next day another telegram by the Bombay mail of the July 3rd left no doubt as to the name…. A week, however, must elapse before letters arrive with, the intelligence…. I hurried over my business, and came back here yesterday evening. It is more quiet than Calcutta; and sad, with its one walk terminating (as I have told you) at Lady Canning's grave. Poor Robert, how little did I think when we parted that I was never to see him again! How little at least, that he would be the defaulter! He has left few equals behind him: so true, so upright, so steady in his principles, and so winning in his manners. Of late years we have been much apart, but for very many we were closely together, and perhaps no two brothers were ever more mutually helpful. Strange, that with Frederick and me in these regions, he should have been carried off first, by a malady which belongs to them.[3]… I write at random and confusedly, for I have nothing to guide me but that one word. And yet how much in that one word! It tells me that I have lost a wise counsellor in difficulties; a stanch friend in prosperity and adversity; one on whom, if anything had befallen myself, I could always have relied to care for those left behind me. It tells, too, of the dropping of a link of that family chain which has always been so strong and unbroken. In writing to his second boy he touched the same chords in a different tone. You have lost (he said) a kind and good uncle, and a kind and good godfather, and you are now the only Robert Bruce in the family. It is a good name, and you must try and bear it nobly and bravely, as those who have borne it before you have done. If you look at their lives you will see that they always considered in the first place what they ought to do, and only in the second what it might be most pleasant and agreeable to do. This is the way to steer a straight course through life, and to meet the close of it, as your dear Uncle did, with a smile on his lips. [Sidenote: The hot season.] From this time his journal contains more and more frequent notices of the oppressive heat of the weather, and its effects upon his own health and comfort. He remained, however, at his post at Calcutta, with the exception of a brief stay at a bungalow lent to him by Mr. Beadon at Bhagulpore; his pleasantest occupation being the arrangement of plans for smoothing the path of Lady Elgin, who had settled to join him in India. August 2nd.—Yesterday, I received your letter, with all the sad details…. It was truly a lovely death, in harmony with the life that preceded it…. It is indeed a heavy blow to all…. This is a sad letter, but my heart is heavy. It is difficult to make plans, with such a break-down of human hopes in possession of all my thoughts. Calcutta.—August 8th.—It is now dreadfully hot…. In search of something to stay my gasping, I mounted on to the roof of the house this morning, to take my walk there, instead of in my close garden, where there are low shrubs which give no shade, but exclude the breeze. I made nothing, however, by my motion, for no air was stirring even there. I had a solitary and ghastly stroll on the leads, surrounded by the adjutants,—a sort of hideous and filthy vulture. They do the work of scavengers in Calcutta, and are ready to treat one as a nuisance, if they had a chance…. There is much sickness here now. August 9th.—… The 'Ferooz' will not reach Suez till about the middle of November, so you had better not arrive there till after that time. You will have the best season for the voyage, and time to rest here before we go up the country. Calcutta.—August 17th.—… I told you that I was feeling the weather…. I am going to-morrow for change of air, to a place about 300 miles from Calcutta, on the railway. It is not cooler, but drier, and the doctor strongly recommends the change. This is our worst season, and I suppose we may expect six weeks more of it. If this change is not enough, I may perhaps try and get a steamer, and go over to Burmah. But there is some difficulty in this at present. [Sidenote: Bhagulpore.] Bhagulpore.—August 19th.—We made out our journey to this place very well yesterday. The morning was cloudy, with drizzling rain, and much cooler than usual, and we had the great advantage of little sun and no dust all day. At the station of Burdwan, the inhabitants of the station, some of them ladies, met us, and in a very polite manner presented flowers. We kept our time pretty well in our special train, and reached our abode at about 7 P.M. The air here is sensibly fresher than at Calcutta…. The house is a regular bungalow,—a cottage, all on the ground-floor. It is situated on a mound overlooking the Ganges. There is no garden about it, but a grass field, with a few trees here and there. Between the window at which I am writing and the river is an open shed, in which two elephants are switching their tails, and knocking about the hay which has been given them for their breakfast. This is a much more quiet and rural place than any which I have visited since I have been in India; for Barrackpore is a great military station, and the park, &c., there are quite public. Here there are not altogether above five or six European families…. We have a train twice a day from Calcutta, so I can get my boxes as regularly as I do there. [Sidenote: Monghyr.] Bhagulpore.—August 25th.—On Saturday, we made an expedition to a place called Monghyr, about forty-five miles from here, where there is a hot spring, and something like hills. (I am told also, that on a particularly clear day I can see from here the highest mountain in the world.) We did not leave this till 3 P.M., and were back again by 8 P.M., having travelled some ninety miles by rail, and driven in carriages about ten or twelve more,—the fastest thing, I should think, ever done in India. There has been a good deal of rain, and I still feel well here, but I suppose on the 29th I must return to the Calcutta steam-bath. This forenoon I paid a visit to a school, one of the Government schools. The boys (upwards of 200) are not of the lowest class. They all read English very well and when asked the meaning of words, gave synonymes or explanatory phrases with remarkable readiness. During their early years, I should certainly say that they are quicker than English children. They fall off when they get older. August 31st.—Calcutta.—We returned to this place on Thursday. It is cooler than when I left, but I fear we have not done with the heat yet. All agree that September is about the worst month in the year here. Calcutta.—September 8th.—I do not think that Dr. M. is particularly proud of the way in which I am bearing up against this oppressive and depressing season…. I wish that we were going to the Neilgherries instead of to Simla. The climate is, I believe, better, and the place more agreeable, but it is entirely out of the way of business for me now, whereas Simla is a natural stage to the most important part of my government. September 17th.—… I have given up my morning walks. It is now always sultry before sunrise, and the dullness of pacing up and down my garden at that hour is intolerable. So I walk till daylight in my verandah…. September 23rd.—… It seems strange to think that this is one of the last letters which you will receive from me in England, but yet it is still a long time before I can hope to see you here. The poor boys! You will be preparing to part from them, and all will be sad. Give them my love and blessing. [Sidenote: Business revived.] In the month of November the sittings of the Legislative Council, which had been suspended during the hot weather, were resumed, and the monotonous routine of the autumn was exchanged for more active, though hardly more laborious, work in maturing legislative measures. As President of this Council Lord Elgin threw himself with his usual zeal and assiduity into the discussion of the various administrative questions which demanded solution. As the cold weather came on, he suffered much from the transition. Writing on the 4th of November to Sir C. Wood, he says: 'At the commencement of the cool season, on which we are now entering, we suffer from all manner of minor ailments; so I hope you will excuse a short letter.' And again on the 9th: 'I am half blind and rather shaky from fever still, so that again I shall be brief in my epistle to you.' Soon, however, these ailments disappeared, and in the cooler temperature he regained to a great extent his usual health. [Sidenote: Arrival of Lady Elgin.] A few weeks later the long dreary months of separation from all that he most loved were happily ended by the arrival of Lady Elgin, who with his youngest daughter, Lady Louisa Bruce, reached Calcutta on the 8th of January 1863. [Sidenote: State of India.] In passing from the personal narrative of these months, to their public history, it is necessary to bear in mind what was the state of the Indian Empire at the moment when Lord Elgin undertook its government. [Sidenote: Peace.] 'India,' to use his own words, 'was at peace; at peace in a sense of the term more emphatic and comprehensive than it had ever before borne in India. The occurrences which had taken place during the period of Lord Dalhousie's government had established the prestige of the British arms as against external foes. Lord Canning's Vice-royalty had taught the same lesson to domestic enemies. No military operations of magnitude were in progress, to call for prompt and vigorous action on the part of the ruling authority, or to furnish matter for narrations of thrilling interest. On the contrary, a hearty acquiescence in the belief that no such opportunities existed, and that it was incumbent upon him, by all practicable means, to prevent their recurrence, was the first duty which the situation of affairs prescribed to a new Governor-General.' [Sidenote: Questions to be solved.] There were indeed grave questions awaiting solution; questions of great perplexity and embarrassment, though of a domestic and peaceful character; some of them the more perplexing because they bore upon 'those jealousies of race which are the sources of almost all our difficulties in India.' But as regards such questions his habitual caution, as well as the philosophic turn of his mind, led him to study very carefully all the conditions of each problem before attempting to propound any solution of his own; and in the meantime he felt that his duty was to employ any personal influence which he could acquire in smoothing the course of such measures as had been set in operation by the authority of others. 'The first virtue,' he said to one of his colleagues, 'which you and I have to practise here at present is Self-denial. We must, for a time at least, walk in paths traced out by others.' But though, for the reasons above stated, it would be a mistake to look in the records of the time for any great measures, executive or administrative, on which he had set his mark, his various speeches and letters, more especially the full and frank communications which he addressed from time to time to the Secretary of State for India, Sir Charles Wood, show with what keenness of interest, as well as with what sagacity, he approached the study of Indian questions. A few extracts from his correspondence are here given to illustrate this; and as affording some indication of the unremitting industry with which he laboured at this period, searching into and maturing his views upon one difficult subject after another, as well as the whole plan of Indian government. To Sir Charles Wood. Calcutta, April 9th, 1862. [Sidenote: The Army.] Now for the Army. I must observe, in the first place, that in the reasoning employed here in favour of the maintenance of a large army, native and European, there is a good deal that is circular, and puzzling to a beginner. When I ask why so considerable a native army is required, I am told that the native must bear a certain proportion to the European force; that Europeans cannot undertake cantonment duties, or, speaking generally, any of the duties which the military may from time to time be called to render in support of the civil power, during peace; that in war, again, they are admirable on the battle-field, but that they cannot turn their victories to account by following up a discomfited foe, unless they have the aid of native troops, nor perform many other services which are not less indispensable than great battles to success against an enemy who knows the ground and is inured to the climate. This line of argument very naturally raises the question, wherefore then is the maintenance of so large a European army necessary? Rebellion has been crushed, and European troops are not suited for the repression of such local disturbances as occasionally occur. There is little present prospect of war from without, though Persia is moving towards Herat, and apparently preparing for Dost Mohammed's death. The answer which I invariably receive is this—'You cannot tell what will happen in India. Heretofore you have held the Sikhs in subjection by the aid of the Sepoys, and the Sepoys by means of the Sikhs. But see what is happening now. The Sikh soldiers are quartered all over India. They are fraternising with the natives of the South—adopting their customs and even their faith. Half the soldiers in a regiment lately stationed at Benares were converted to Hindooism before they left that holy place. Beware, or you will shortly have to cope in India with a hostile combination more formidable than any of those which you have encountered before.' If you draw from all this the inference that what you really dread is your native army, you get into the vicious circle again. Do not suppose that I am tempted by these logical paradoxes to run to hasty conclusions. I am aware that for many reasons we must now entertain, and probably shall long find it necessary to entertain, a large army, native and European, in India. Practically, what we have to do is to endeavour, by a judicious system of recruiting, organisation, and distribution, to render our army as serviceable and as little a source of peril as may be. But I do think that they go far to prove that, notwithstanding our vast physical superiority to anything which can be brought against us, we should find it a difficult task to maintain our authority in India by the sword alone; and that they justify a very jealous scrutiny of all schemes of expenditure for military objects which render necessary the imposition or maintenance of taxes which occasion general discontent, or deprive the Government of the funds requisite for carrying on works of improvement that have the double advantage of stimulating the growth of wealth in the country, and increasing the efficiency of the means of self-defence which we possess. * * * * * To a Friend in Scotland, interested in the Cultivation of Cotton. Calcutta, May 21st, 1862. [Sidenote: Cultivation of cotton.] I beg to assure you that I do not yield to yourself in my desire to promote the extension of cotton cultivation in India, and, above all, improvement in the quality of the staple. I consider that the interests of India are involved in this improvement to a greater degree even than those of Great Britain; for, no doubt, if the quality of the Indian product were so far raised as to admit of its competing on terms approaching to equality with that of America, it would obtain a permanent footing in the great market to which it has access now only at moments of extraordinary dearth. Moreover, I do not scruple to confess to you that I am not so bigoted in my adhesion to the dogmas of political economy, as to be unwilling, at a season of crisis like the present, to entertain proposals for accelerating this result, merely because they contravene the principles of that science. On the contrary, I receive thankfully suggestions for accomplishing an object which I have so much at heart, more especially when they emanate from persons deeply interested and thoroughly conversant with the subject, like yourself—even when they fall within the category of what you style 'extraordinary measures.' But you will surely allow that the onus probandi lies very heavily on a Government which adopts measures of this class; and that if, by abnormal interference, it checks the natural and healthy operation of the laws of demand on capitalists and cultivators, it incurs a weighty responsibility. Even as regards the specific recommendation which you have made, and which has much to justify it in my eyes—because I would go great lengths in the direction of aiding the Ryots to improve their staple, if I could see my way to effect this object without doing more harm than good—I must observe that there are questions which have to be very gravely and carefully examined before it can be acted upon. In the first place, it is right that I should tell you that the opinion which obtains here respecting the result of recent operations in Dharwar, in so far as the case furnishes a precedent for the interference of Government officers in such matters, differs widely from that entertained by you. But, setting this point aside, and assuming for the sake of argument that the interposition at Dharwar was attended by unmixed benefit to all concerned, does it follow that corresponding success would accompany the mission of fifty military officers to the cotton districts of India for the purpose of inducing the Ryots to substitute exotic for native cotton in their cultivation? In order to do this exotic cotton justice, it must be treated with some care, especially at the time of its introduction into districts where it has been previously unknown. Conditions of climate as well as of soil must be taken into consideration in determining the time and method of cultivation. The climate of Dharwar, where the monsoons meet, differs widely from that of many parts of India, where the seasons are divided between a deluge of rain and a period of baking heat. Am I likely to find fifty young military officers who would be competent to advise the Ryots on points of so much delicacy? And if the Ryots, following their counsels, were disappointed in the expectations which they had been led to form, what would be the effect on the prospects of cotton cultivation in India? I do not say all this in condemnation of your scheme, but in order to point out to you how much has to be thought of before it can be acted upon. Meanwhile there are measures for promoting the interests of cotton cultivation in India, which the Government can adopt without abandoning its proper sphere of action; not only without danger, but with a high probability, perhaps I might say a certainty, of benefit to the great cause which we have in hand. We can facilitate the establishment in India of European cultivators and landholders, who are the natural and legitimate advisers of the native peasantry on such questions as those to which I have been referring. We can improve communication so as to render the transport of the raw material to the ports of shipment more cheap and rapid. To these and similar measures the attention of the Government of India is earnestly directed; with every disposition to take such further means of stimulating production as prudence may justify. I have written at some length, but the importance of the subject and my respect for your opinion are my excuse. * * * * * To Sir Charles Wood. Calcutta, May 9th, 1862. [Sidenote: Orientals not satisfied with show of power.] I know that it is customary with certain people whose opinions are entitled to respect, to act on the assumption that all Orientals are children, amused and gratified by external trappings and ceremonies and titles, and ready to put up with the loss of real dignity and power if they are only permitted to enjoy the semblance of it. I am disposed to question the correctness of this assumption. I believe, on the contrary, that the Eastern imagination is singularly prone to invest outward things with a symbolic character; and that relaxations on points of form are valued by them, chiefly because they are held necessarily to imply concessions on substantial matters. * * * * * To Sir Charles Wood. Calcutta, June 21st, 1862. [Sidenote: Imprudence of a missionary.] You may be interested by reading a letter (of which I enclose a copy) written by the officer commanding the cavalry at Delhi on the subject of an alleged assault by a native trooper on a missionary. I should think that the cause of Christian truth and charity would be as well served by preaching in a church or a building of some sort, as by holding forth in the streets in a city full of fanatical unbelievers. If I am told that the Apostles pursued the latter course, I would observe that they had the authorities as well as the mob against them, and took not only the thrashings of the latter, but also the judicial penalties inflicted by the former, like men. It is a very different matter when you have a powerful Government to fall back upon, and to quell any riots which you may raise. However, these are burning questions, and one must handle them cautiously. * * * * * To Mr. Edmonstone, Lieut.-Governor of the N.W. Provinces. Calcutta, May 27th, 1862. [Sidenote: Rumours of disaffection.] I am much obliged to you for your letter of the 19th inst., and I beg that you will make a habit of writing to me whenever anything occurs respecting which you may desire to communicate with me confidentially. I do not, I confess, attach any great importance to such incidents as the circulation of the prophecy which you have enclosed to me. It is quite as probable that it may be the act of some mischievous person who desires to keep alive excitement in the popular mind, as the indication of an excitement already existing. It must, moreover, be observed that the English press throughout India has taken advantage of the advance of Sooltan Jan on Furrah to descant, at great length and with much fervour, on all perils, present and prospective, to which British rule in India is, or may be, exposed. That the Mahommedan mind, thus stimulated and encouraged, should altogether eschew such speculations, could hardly be expected. It is impossible, however, to be too vigilant in watching these manifestations of opinion; and I trust that you will not fail to put me in possession of all the symptoms of disquietude which may reach you, however trivial they may seem to be. I need hardly point out to you how important it is that your inquiries should be so conducted as to give no countenance to the impression that they are prompted by any nervous anxiety, or that we should be much discomposed even if the 12th Imaum himself were to make his appearance. For my own part, I am firmly resolved to put down with promptitude and severity any attempt at disturbance which may be made in any part of India, and I do not care how generally my determination on this point is known. I shall pursue this policy, not because I fear for the stability of our empire in the East, but because tranquillity is essential to the progress of the country, and because lenity to the guilty originators of such machinations leads invariably to the severest punishment and suffering of misguided followers. * * * * * To Sir Charles Wood. Calcutta, June 17th, 1862. [Sidenote: Groundless alarms at Delhi.] The follies which are committed by the military panicmongers in the North-west are very vexatious, and pregnant with mischief of all kinds…. I made up my mind yesterday to set off in person and go straight to Delhi, if the thing goes on. As a rising of troops against us in places where the Europeans have all the artillery, and at least equal the native forces in number, is rather too strong a dose even for the weakest nerves, the stock in trade now is the existence of designs for the assassination of Europeans…. These topics are probably the conversation at every mess-table, indulged in before the native servants, who would be the agents in such plots if they were to be carried out. It is a remarkable fact that, although secret murder by poison and otherwise is not unknown among natives between themselves, as directed against Europeans, it is, I believe, almost entirely unexampled. It is not impossible, however, that constant discussions on the subject may familiarise the native mind with the idea. But talking is not all. The commanding officer at Agra has acted on these suspicions, and, in the face of the native population, taken extraordinary precautions on the assumption that the wells are poisoned. We have no report as yet on the subject. All we know is from the newspapers; but of the fact, I fear, there can be little doubt. If there be disaffected persons in that locality (and no doubt there are many such), it will be strange indeed if they do not profit by so broad a hint. Then again, this panic beginning with the officers spreads to the men. Some cases of terrorism have occurred at Delhi which are a disgrace to our race. And of course we know what follows. Cowardice and cruelty being twins, the man who runs terror-stricken into his barrack to-night because he mistook the chirp of a cricket for the click of a pistol, indemnifies himself to-morrow by beating his bearer to within an inch of his life. All this is very bad, and very difficult to control. After the lesson of 1857 it will not do for me to adopt the happy-go-lucky tone, and to pooh-pooh what professes to be information. To preach common sense from a safe distance is equally futile. It therefore occurred to me that the only thing practically to do, would be to go to the head- quarters of the panic, surround myself by native troops, and put a stop to the nonsense by example. If I had been anywhere else except in India, I should have acted upon this determination at once; but here there are such enormous physical difficulties in the way, that one is obliged to think twice before setting out on such an expedition. However, I have not abandoned the intention, and shall certainly carry it out, if this sort of thing goes on. We cannot afford to have the progress of the country arrested by such misÈres. The alarmists succeeded in bringing down the price of our stocks a few days ago. By the bye, last night was fixed upon by my anonymous correspondents for my own assassination. * * * * * To Sir Charles Wood. Calcutta, June 22nd, 1862. [Sidenote: The murder of a native.] I have had, this week, a very painful matter to deal with. A man of the name of Budd, a soldier who had obtained his discharge in order to accompany an officer of the name of —— to Australia, killed a native in the PunjÂb some months ago under the following circumstances. He was desired by —— to procure a sheep for him. He went to a native, from whom he appears to have procured sheep before, and took one. The native protested against his taking this particular sheep, because it was with lamb, but said he might take any other from the flock. Budd paid no heed to this remonstrance, put the sheep on the back of another native, and marched off. The owner followed, complaining and protesting. On tins Budd first fired two barrels over his head, then threw stones at him, and finally went into the house, brought out another gun, fired at him, and killed him on the spot. Besides imploring that his sheep might be restored to him, it does not appear that the native did anything at all to provoke this proceeding. The perpetrator of this outrage being a European, the case could not be tried on the spot. It was accordingly transferred to Calcutta; witnesses, &c., being sent 1,000 miles at the public expense. Before it came on, however, the counsel for the defence requested a postponement in order to obtain further evidence. The request was granted, and the trial deferred till another term. [Sidenote: Punished by death.] The trial came on a few days ago, and the jury, much to their honour, found the prisoner guilty. On this an agitation was got up to obtain a commutation of the sentence of death which had been passed by the judge. A petition, with a great number of signatures, was presented in the first instance to the Lieutenant-Governor of Bengal; but he was advised that, the crime having been committed in the Punjab, he had nothing to do with the case. It was then transmitted to me. There was quite enough doubt as to my power of acting, to have justified me in referring the case to the Lieutenant-Governor of the PunjÂb. But I felt that the delay, and, above all, the appearance of a desire to shrink from the responsibility of passing a decision on the case, which this step would involve, would be so mischievous, that, having obtained from the Advocate-General an opinion that I had the requisite authority, I determined to take the matter into my own hands. The verdict was clearly borne out by the evidence. The sentence was in accordance with the law, and the judge, to whom I referred, saw no reason to question it. The decision of the Governor-General in Council was, that the law must take its course. [Sidenote: Little value put on native life.] It is true that this murder was not committed with previous preparation and deliberation. It had not, therefore, this special quality of aggravation. But it was marked by an aggravation of its own, not less culpable, and unfortunately only too frequently characteristic of the homicides perpetrated by Europeans on natives in this country. It was committed in wanton recklessness, almost without provocation, under an impulse which would have been resisted if the life of the victim had been estimated at the value of that of a dog. Any action on my part which would have seemed to sanction this estimate of the value of native life, would have been attended by the most pernicious consequences. It is bad enough as it is. The other day a station-master, somewhere up country, kicked a native who was, as he says, milking a goat belonging to the former. The native fell dead, and the local paper, without a word of commiseration for the victim or his family, complains of the hardship of compelling the station-master to go to Calcutta, in this warm weather, to have the case inquired into. Other instances in which the natives have died from the effect of personal chastisement administered by Europeans have occurred since I have been here. I have gone at some length into this case, both because you may hear of it, and also because it exemplifies what is really our greatest source of embarrassment in this country—the extreme difficulty of administering equal justice between natives and Europeans. * * * * * To Sir Charles Wood. July 16th, 1862. [Sidenote: Against interference in Afghanistan.] I am very much averse to any interference on our part in the quarrel which is now on foot in Afghanistan; and, indeed, I do not very well see my way as to how any such interference can be managed without entailing responsibilities which we may regret at a later period. You are doubtless aware that we have no agent with the Dost. He particularly requested that no one should be sent to his court in that capacity, and we assented to his views on this point. All we know of what is going on there is derived from the reports of a native vakeel, who reports more or less faithfully what he hears and sees, but who is not, and I apprehend, could not be employed to speak on our behalf to the Ameer. In order, therefore, to communicate with him, we must either send a special agent, or write. Now it must be observed that in this affair the Dost has not been the aggressor. The Herat chief attacked him without any provocation. We offered him no assistance, made no remonstrance, and left him to take care of himself. He has asked us for nothing, and we have given him nothing. It is now proposed that we should inform the Dost that if he goes beyond a certain point, and Persia comes into the field to support Herat, he must not expect any assistance from us. If we had an agent there it would be easy to instruct him to make such an intimation; and if the Dost were to ask us for any support, an answer which would convey this hint might be given. But situated as we are, we must move cautiously in this matter. If the Dost stops on our suggestion, and if (as is frequently the case with Orientals), the enemy, ascribing his moderation to weakness, presses him with increased vigour, what are we to do then? Are we to stand by and laugh at our dupe, telling him that though our advice got him into the scrape, he must find his own way out of it? or are we to set to work to check his opponents? and if we undertake the latter task, how far will it lead us? It is quite impossible in these affairs, and with people of this description, to say what an hour may bring forth. A shower of rain may convert a victorious army into a baffled one, and an advance into a retreat. The death of a man of eighty years of age will probably throw all Afghanistan into confusion, convert friends into foes and vice versÂ. Instructions framed in Calcutta to meet one set of circumstances may arrive in Afghanistan when the whole scene has changed. I own that I am strongly of opinion that our true policy is to leave these kinds of neighbours as much as possible alone; to mix ourselves up as little as may be in their miserable intrigues, which generally entail obligations which bind us and not them, and not unfrequently lead to most unexpected issues. We should only speak when we have a case of self-interest so clear that we can speak with determination, and follow up our talk if necessary with a blow. * * * * * To Sir Charles Wood. August 9th, 1862. [Sidenote: Withdrawal of vakeel.] After a good deal of consideration as to how I can, with least risk of getting this Government into trouble, put a spoke into the Dost's wheel in his progress towards Herat, I have despatched to Sir R. Montgomery the telegram of which I enclose a copy. The order sent to our vakeel, desiring him to leave the Ameer's camp, and return to India, if the Dost proceeds to extremities against Herat, will sufficiently show that we discountenance any such proceeding; while at the same time the measure commits us to nothing, gives the Dost no such claim upon us as he would naturally have if we tendered advice to him, and induced him to abandon his own projects in order to follow it, and leaves us free to shape our policy as the shifting current of events may prescribe. I pointed out to you in my letter of July 16, that we are awkwardly situated for interfering with the Ameer. He is our friend, and we said nothing when he was attacked. He has set to work to redress his own injuries, asking us for no aid, and paying his own way. We are quite entitled to say, 'Your hostile advance on Herat has not our approval, and we must show that you are making it without our sanction.' This we do in the most emphatic manner, by withdrawing the only British official who is with him. But I do not like to go farther in the direction of interference. It is impossible to say how matters may terminate in Afghanistan. It is possible that the Ameer may get the whole country into his hands. It is possible that he may come to an understanding with Sultan Jan, who is his connection by marriage. It is very desirable that we should be free to accept the status in quo, whatever it may be. * * * * * To Sir Charles Wood. Calcutta, September 9th, 1862. [Sidenote: Lord Canning's policy.] A doubt naturally suggests itself as to whether the received notion respecting the relations which Canning sought to establish between the native chiefs and the British Government in India be altogether correct, or, (as it perhaps would be more accurate to say) altogether complete—whether, in short, that portion of it which was a policy of circumstance has been duly distinguished from that which was a policy of principle: a doubt by no means unimportant, now that this policy, whatever it be, is crowned by the double aureole of success and death; so that while, on the one hand, it is naturally set up as an example for imitation, on the other, we have not the author to refer to when difficulties arise respecting its application. [Sidenote: (1) Clemency.] In approaching the consideration of this very momentous question we must, in the first place, be careful lest we suffer ourselves to draw erroneous conclusions from the warm expressions of gratitude and affection lavished upon Canning by the natives generally. If I were to venture to compare great things with small, I should say that their feelings towards him were due to causes somewhat similar to those which earned for me the good will and confidence of the French Canadians in Canada. Both he and I adopted on some important points views more favourable to the subject races than those which had been entertained by our respective predecessors. So far we established legitimate and substantial claims on their regard. But it was not so much the intrinsic merit of those views, still less was it the extent to which we acted upon them, which won for us the favour of those races; we owed that mainly to the uncompromising hostility, the bitter denunciations, and the unmeasured violence which the promulgation of those views provoked from those who were regarded by them as their oppressors. I used often to say to my Scotch friends in Lower Canada, when they were heaping every indignity upon me, and even resorting to open violence (for there they did not hold their hands off), 'You are playing my game. I want to win the confidence of the French Canadians; but I know the nature of that people: they are touchy and suspicious as races who feel that they are inferior, and believe that they are oppressed; invariably are. By measures of simple justice towards them (and beyond that line I do not intend to proceed an inch), I despair of being able to effect my object; but if you continue for a year to act as you are now acting, denouncing me as your enemy and their friend, and proving the sincerity of your belief by outrage and violence, you will end by convincing them that I am to be trusted, and I shall win the day.'—The result proved the accuracy of this prediction. The feeling of the natives of India towards Canning was in some measure due to a similar cause. The clamour for blood and indiscriminate vengeance which raged around him, and the abuse poured upon him because he would not listen to it, imparted in their eyes to acts which carried justice to the verge of severity the grace of clemency. [Sidenote: (2) Consideration for native chiefs.] I could give you plenty of proofs of this…. The following sentences occur in a letter written from Delhi during our recent panic, by an officer…. 'The native force here is much too small to be a source of anxiety, and unless they take the initiative it is my opinion that there can be no important rising. The Mussulmans of Delhi are a contemptible race. Fanatics are very rare on this side of the Sutlej. The terrors of that period when every man who had two enemies was sure to swing are not forgotten. The people declare that the work of Nadir Shah was as nothing to it. His executions were completed in twelve hours. But for months after the last fall of Delhi, no one was sure of his own life or of that of the being dearest to him for an hour.' The natives not unnaturally looked with gratitude to the man who alone had the will and power to put an arrest on this course of proceeding, and to prevent its extension all over the land. No doubt, as I have said, Canning earned a substantial claim to the gratitude of the native chiefs by adopting a more liberal and considerate policy towards them than that pursued by his predecessor. It was perhaps not surprising that he should have done so. Situated as we are in this country—a small minority ruling a vast population that differs from us in blood, civilisation, colour and religion, monopolising in our own territories all positions of high dignity and emolument, and exercising even over States ostensibly independent a paramount authority—it is manifest that the question of how we ought to treat that class of natives who consider that they have a natural right to be leaders of men and to occupy the first places in India, must always be one of special difficulty. If you attempt to crush all superiorities, you unite the native populations in a homogeneous mass against you. If you foster pride of rank and position, you encourage pretensions which you cannot gratify, partly because you dare not abdicate your own functions as a paramount power, and, partly, because you cannot control the arrogance of your subjects of the dominant race. Scindiah and Holkar are faithful to us just in proportion as they are weak, and conscious that they require our aid to support them against their own subjects or neighbours: and among the bitterest of our foes during the Mutiny were natives who had been courted in England…. Canning saw the evils which the crushing policy of his predecessor was entailing, and he reversed it. It was a happily timed change of policy. The rebellion broke out while it was yet recent; and no doubt, the hopes and gratification inspired by it had their effect in inducing a certain number of chiefs to pause and to require more conclusive proof that the British Raj was to kick the beam, before they cast their weight into the opposite scale of the balance. After the rebellion was suppressed, the inducement to persevere in this line of policy was still more stringent. To grant to native Potentates who were trembling in their shoes, and ready to receive the boon on any terms which you might prescribe, the reversion of States which had become vacant because you had, of your own authority and mere motion, hanged their chiefs, and declared them to be escheated, was a wise, a graceful, and under the circumstances a perfectly safe policy. The same may be said of the measures taken to put the talookdars of Oude on their legs, and which were preceded by the confiscation of all their properties. I believe that this policy, like the policy of Clemency, was sound and right in principle; but in forming a just estimate of its success and of its applicability to all seasons and emergencies, it is necessary to take into account the specialities of the time to which I have referred. [Sidenote: (3) Assertion of British sovereignty.] What then was the scope and extent of application which Canning in action was prepared to give to this policy? Here is the important question, and it is not altogether an easy one to answer. For like most wise administrators, Canning dealt with the concrete rather than the abstract, and it would not be difficult to cull from his decisions sentiments and sentences which seem to clash. When you meet with an individual ruling which appears not to tally with what you have assumed to be his general principles, you say it is 'unnatural.' This is one way out of the difficulty. But is it the right way? My own opinion is, that Canning never intended to let the chiefs get the bit into their mouths, or to lose his hold over them. It is true that he rode them with a loose rein, but the pace was so killing during the whole of his time, that it took the kick out of them, and a light hand and silken thread were all that was required. His policy of deference to the authority of native chiefs was a means to an end, the end being the establishment of the British Raj in India; and when the means and the end came into conflict, or seemed likely to do so, the former went to the wall. Even in the case of the chieftainship of Amjherra, he looked, as the Yankees say, 'ugly,' when Scindiah, having got what he wanted, showed a disposition to withhold the grants to loyal individuals which he had volunteered to make from the revenues of the chieftainship. It is true that the ostensible ground of Canning's dissatisfaction was the violation of a promise, but what title had he to claim this promise, or to exact its fulfilment, if the escheat belonged as of right to Scindiah? Again, when I came to this country, I found that he was walking pretty smartly into a parcel of people in Central India who were getting up a little rebellion on their own account, a tempest in a teapot, not against us, but against their own native rulers. In this instance he interfered, no doubt, as head policeman and conservator of the peace of all India. But observe, if we lay down the rule that we will scrupulously respect the right of the chiefs to do wrong, and resolutely suppress all attempts of their subjects to redress their wrongs by violence, which, in the absence of help from us, is the only redress open to them, we may find perhaps that it may carry us somewhat far—possibly to annexation—the very bugbear from which we are seeking to escape. Holkar, for instance, unless common fame traduces him, has rather an itching for what Mr. Laing calls 'hard rupees.' His subjects and dependents have decided, and not altogether unintelligible, objections to certain methods which he adopts for indulging this propensity. When they—those of them more especially who have Treaty claims to our protection, come to us to complain, and to ask our help—are we to say to them:—'We have too much respect for Holkar's independence to interfere. Bight or wrong you had better book up, for we are bound to keep the peace, and we shall certainly be down upon you if you kick up a row'? In the anomalous position which we occupy in India, it is surely necessary to propound with caution doctrines which, logically applied, land us in such dilemmas. [Sidenote: Problems for a time of peace.] At a future time, if I live, and remain here, it is possible that I may take the liberty of submitting to you some views of my own on these questions. It may perhaps turn out that a time of peace is better fitted than one of revolution for the discovery of the true theory according to which our relations with native States ought to be conducted; or, it may be, for the discovery that no theory can be framed sufficiently elastic to fit all those relations and the complications which arise out of them, and that, after all, we must in a great measure rely on the rule of common sense and of the thumb. When the circumstances of the time are such that it is deemed right and proper to abrogate all law, and to establish over the land a reign of terror and of the sword—to pour out, in deference to the paramount claims of the safety of the state, public money, whether obtained from present taxation or the mortgage of posterity, with profusion absolutely uncontrolled—to decree confiscation on a scale of unprecedented magnitude; it is obvious that a reputation for clemency, economy, and respect for the native rights of property, is obtainable under conditions that are not strictly normal. If you want to ascertain whether your system will stand in all weathers, you must test it when the rule of law and order have replaced that of arbitrary will—when men present themselves, not as the scared recipients of bounty, but as the assertors of admitted rights. We shall see how far, in such piping times, it may be possible for the Governor-General to enforce on the British local authorities the claims of public economy, without resorting to any interference which can be supposed to militate against the hypothesis that the said authorities understand a great deal better than he does what their wants are, and how they ought to be supplied; or to maintain the peace of India without questioning the indefeasible title of the native chiefs to do what they like with their own. |
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