Altogether, I was much interested by Java. As I have said, it is ruled
entirely for the interest of the governing race. No attempt is made to
raise the natives. I _believe_ that the missionaries are not allowed
to visit the interior. I asked about schools, and ascertained that in
the province of which the regency of Bantong forms a part, and which
contains some 600,000 inhabitants, there were five; not, I suspect,
much attended. It was clear from the tone of the officials that there
was no wish to educate the natives. There is a kind of forced labour.
They pay a tithe of the produce of their rice-fields; are obliged (in
certain districts) to plant coffee, and to sell the produce at a rate
fixed by the Government; in others, to work on sugar estates, and, in
all, to make roads. Nevertheless, I am not satisfied that they are
unhappy, or that the system can be called a failure. In those
districts which I visited there was no appearance of their being
overworked; and I was assured that, on the sugar estates, the
proprietors have no power of punishing those who do not work; that it
rests with the officials exclusively to do so. The tone of the
officials on the subject is, that no punishment is necessary, because,
although they are so lazy that if they had the choice they would never
do anything, they do not make any difficulty about working when they
are told to do so. Economically it is a success. The fertility of the
island is very great, so that the labour of the natives leaves a large
surplus after their own subsistence is provided for. There are twenty
provinces, in each of which the chief officer is the president--a
Dutchman; but the native chief (Regent) has the more direct relations
with the people, arranges about their labour, &c. The Dutch officials
look after him, and see that he does not abuse his power.

[Sidenote: Ceylon.]

Pressing eagerly forward, he reached Ceylon, the scene of so many anxieties
and disasters, on the last day of February.

_Ceylon, March 2nd._--I found here your letters to January 10th, and
am relieved... Where is our meeting to be?... If I can, I shall take
the route through Trieste and Paris.

On the 20th he writes from the neighbourhood of Mount Sinai:--

[Sidenote: Sinai.]

_March 20th.--Noon._--We are now in the Gulf of Suez. On the right
side a row of arid mountains with serrated crests, and a margin of
flat dry sand at the base, and behind them what is reputed to be Mount
Sinai. Only a glimpse of the latter can, however, be caught at one
point, where there is a depression in the nearer range. On the left
there are mountains of a similar character, overtopped by one 10,000
feet high. The sea is deeply blue and the sun scorching, but the air
cool--almost cold. We have had a good deal of wind and sea against us
for the last three days; but we passed the Straits of Jubal early this
morning, and hope to be at Suez during the night.

On the 24th he was once more enjoying the fresh and invigorating breezes of
Europe:--

[Sidenote: The Mediterranean.]

_Sunday, March 24th.--On board H.M.S. 'Terrible.'_--Here is a change of
scene! The last words of this journal were written in the Gulf of
Suez, on board the 'Ferooz.' I now write from the Mediterranean, off
the island of Candia, whose snow-capped mountains are looking down
upon us; very different from the parched ranges of hills wrapped in
perpetual heat haze, which I described to you four days ago.

[Sidenote: Greece.]

_March 26th.--Seven A.M._--I have been about two hours on deck. A
beautiful morning, and smooth sea. On our right the coast of Albania,
hilly and wooded. On our left the land is low, and covered apparently
with olive trees. Before us the southern end of Corfu, which we are
approaching. Farther on, the channel along which we are gliding seems
to be closed in as a lake, the Corfu mountains and those of Greece
overlapping each other. The snow-covered crests of some of the latter
gleam in the sunshine. It is a lovely scene. Yesterday we passed Cape
Matapan, Zante, &c., all on our right; but there was a good deal of
wind and sea, and an unusual amount of motion for the 'Terrible.'
Navarino, too, we passed; but I did not know it at the time. We
propose to call in at Corfu, take in coal, and see what can be seen
during the day. But I hope to be off for Trieste to-morrow morning.

[Sidenote: Corfu.]

_March 27th._--We found at Corfu three line-of-battle ships and
Admiral Dacres, who came on board to see me. I landed at 11 A.M., and
went to the Government House, where I found Sir H. Storks. He took me
a drive of about thirteen miles, to the top of a pass in the mountains
called Pantaleone, from which there is a very extensive view. It is a
beautiful island. The day bright and sunny. Nothing can be more
picturesque than the town. The people, too, seem to me very handsome.
I saw this morning the captain of a sloop-of-war who has been visiting
various ports in the Adriatic. He was received at Ancona with a
_furore_ of enthusiasm, and exceedingly well treated at Venice,
Trieste, &c., by the Austrians, who are burning to revenge themselves
on the French, and anxious to ally themselves with us for that
purpose.... We have been steaming through a narrow channel, with the
snow-covered mountains of Albania on our right; but we are now
emerging into the open Adriatic.

[Sidenote: England.]

By Trieste and Vienna he travelled rapidly to Paris, where he was met by
Lady Elgin; and on the 11th of April 1861, within a few days of the
anniversary of his departure, he found himself once more on British soil.

[Sidenote: Warm reception.]
[Sidenote: Dunfermline.]

The reception which awaited him at home was even warmer than that which he
had met with two years before. What gratified him, perhaps, more than any
of the many similar expressions of good-will was the cordial welcome with
which he was greeted by his old friends and neighbours at Dunfermline:
friends from whom he had been, as he told them, so long an unwilling
absentee. His answer to their address was the simple and natural expression
of this feeling.

It is pleasant (he said)--perhaps it is one of the sweetest flowers we
cull on the path of this rugged life--to find ourselves among old
friends after a long absence, and to find their hearts beat as true
and warm as ever. I am deeply gratified by the flattering terms in
which my public services have been referred to in this address, but I
am still more gratified by the welcome which you have tendered to me
to-day.... Gentlemen, I have been for many years very much, perhaps
too much of a wanderer, and it has been my fortune to receive from our
countrymen established in different parts of the world tokens of their
regard and consideration. The very last address of felicitation I
received before I landed at Dover the other day was from a body of my
countrymen established in the Philippines--a group of Spanish islands
in the far East, near the equator. But allow me to say that among all
these tokens, those most grateful and agreeable to me are those which
I receive from friends and neighbours at home. And, perhaps, I
appreciate these tokens the more highly, because I am conscious that
the very fact of my having been so much of a wanderer, has prevented
me from acquiring some of those titles to their personal regard which
I might have hoped to establish if I had been constantly resident
among them.

[Sidenote: Royal Academy dinner.]

About the same time he was received with marked distinction at the annual
banquet of the Royal Academy in London; and the words which he spoke on
that occasion have more than a mere passing interest, as illustrating the
speaker's frank and straightforward manner of dealing with a question of
great delicacy, and also as containing some striking and suggestive remarks
on certain mental and moral peculiarities of the Chinese people.

I am especially gratified (he said) by the great and very unexpected
honour which you have done to me in drinking my health, because I
trust that I may infer from it that in your judgment, Sir, and in that
of this company, I am not so incorrigibly barbarous as to be incapable
of feeling the humanising influences which fall upon us from the noble
works of art by which we are surrounded. And, as I have ventured to
approach so nearly to the margin of a burning question, I hope that I
may be allowed to take one step more in the same direction, and to
assure you that no one regretted more sincerely than I did the
destruction of that collection of summer-houses and kiosks, already,
and previously to any act of mine, rifled of their contents, which was
dignified by the title of Summer Palace of the Chinese Emperor. But
when I had satisfied myself that in no other way, except, indeed, by
inflicting on this country and on China the calamity of another year
of war, could I mark the sense which I entertained, which the British
army entertained--and on this point I may appeal to my gallant friend
who is present here this evening, and who conducted that army
triumphantly to Pekin with so much honour to himself and to those
under his command--and which, moreover, I make bold in the presence of
this company to say, the people of this country entertained--of an
atrocious crime, which, if it had passed unpunished, would have placed
in jeopardy the life of every European in China, I felt that the time
had come when I must choose between the indulgence of a not unnatural
sensibility and the performance of a painful duty. The alternative is
not a pleasant one; but I trust that there is no man serving the Crown
in a responsible position who would hesitate when it is presented to
him as to the decision at which he should arrive.[2] And now, Sir, to
pass to another topic, I have been repeatedly asked whether, in my
opinion, the interests of art in this country are likely to be in any
degree promoted by the opening up of China. I must say, in reply, that
I do not think that in matters of art we have much to learn from that
country, but I am not quite prepared to admit that even in this
department we can gain nothing from them. The distinguishing
characteristic of the Chinese mind is this--that at all points of the
circle described by man's intelligence, it seems occasionally to have
caught glimpses of a heaven far beyond the range of its ordinary ken
and vision. It caught a glimpse of the path which leads to military
supremacy when it invented gunpowder, some centuries before the
discovery was made by any other nation. It caught a glimpse of the
path which leads to maritime supremacy when it made, at a period
equally remote, the discovery of the mariner's compass. It caught a
glimpse of the path which leads to literary supremacy when, in the
tenth century, it invented the printing press; and, as my illustrious
friend on my right (Sir E. Landseer) has reminded me, it has caught
from time to time glimpses of the beautiful in colour and design. But
in the hands of the Chinese themselves the invention of gunpowder has
exploded in crackers and harmless fireworks. The mariner's compass has
produced nothing better than the coasting junk. The art of printing
has stagnated in stereotyped editions of _Confucius_, and the most
cynical representations of the grotesque have been the principal
products of Chinese conceptions of the sublime and beautiful.
Nevertheless, I am disposed to believe that under this mass of
abortions and rubbish there lie hidden some sparks of a diviner fire,
which the genius of my countrymen may gather and nurse into a flame.

[Sidenote: Dinner at the Mansion House.]

A few days afterwards, at a dinner given at the Mansion House in his
honour, he was again greeted with more than common enthusiasm. In
responding, after giving an account of the objects that had been sought and
the results that had been achieved in the East, he concluded his speech by
impressing on the merchants of England, in words which may be regarded as
his final and farewell utterance on the subject, that with them must now
chiefly lie the responsibility of aiding or retarding the development of
China, and thus of determining the place she shall hold in the commonwealth
of nations.

My Lord Mayor (be said), I should be very much to blame if, having an
opportunity of addressing an assembly in this place, I omitted to call
attention to the fact that the occasional misconduct of our own
countrymen and other foreigners in China is one of the greatest,
perhaps the very greatest, difficulties with which the Queen's
representatives there have to deal. We send out to that country
honourable merchants and devout missionaries, who scatter benefits in
every part of the land they visit, elevating and raising the standard
of civilisation wherever they go. But sometimes, unfortunately, there
slip out from among us dishonest traders and ruffians who disgrace our
name and set the feelings of the people against us. The public opinion
of England can do much to encourage the one class of persons and
discourage the other. I trust that the moral influence of this great
city will always be exerted in that direction. In addressing the
merchants of Shanghai some three years ago, at the time when I
announced to them that it was my intention to seek a treaty in Pekin
itself if I could not get it before I arrived there, I made this
observation--that when force and diplomacy should have effected in
China all that they could legitimately accomplish, the work which we
had to do in that empire would still be only in its commencement. I
repeat that statement now. My gallant friend who spoke just now has
returned his sword to the scabbard. The diplomatist, as far as treaty-
making is concerned, has placed his pen on the shelf. But the great
task of construction--the task of bringing China, with its extensive
territory, its fertile soil, and its industrious population, as an
active and useful member, into the community of nations, and making it
a fellow-labourer with ourselves in diffusing over the world happiness
and well-being--is one that yet remains to be accomplished. No persons
are more entitled or more fitted to take a part in that work than the
merchants of this great city. I implore them, then, to devote
themselves earnestly to its fulfilment, and from the bottom of my
heart I pray that their endeavours towards that end may be crowned
with success.


[1] Vide supra, p. 310.

[2] It may not be out of place here to quote the words used later
in the evening by Sir Hope Grant, in returning thanks for his own
health: 'With regard (he said) to what Lord Elgin has said about the
destruction of the Summer Palace of the Emperor of China, I must say
that I do candidly think it was a necessary act of retribution for an
abominable murder which had been committed, and the army, as Well as
myself, entirely concurred with him in what he did.'




CHAPTER XV.

INDIA.

APPOINTED VICEROY OP INDIA--FOREBODINGS--VOYAGE TO INDIA--INSTALLATION--
DEATHS OF MR. RITCHIE, LORD CANNING, GENERAL BRUCE--THE HOT SEASON--
BUSINESS RESUMED--STATE OF THE EMPIRE--LETTERS: THE ARMY; CULTIVATION OP
COTTON; ORIENTALS NOT ALL CHILDREN; MISSIONARIES; RUMOURS OF DISAFFECTION;
ALARMS; MURDER OF A NATIVE; AFGHANISTAN; POLICY OF LORD CANNING;
CONSIDERATION FOR NATIVES.


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.]
[Sidenote: Sails for India.]

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.]
[Sidenote: Installation.]

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
went even deeper home, in the intelligence of the death of his brother
Robert, so well-known and so highly valued as Governor of the Prince of
Wales.

[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