Letters and Journals of James, Eighth Earl of Elgin

by Earl of James Bruce Elgin

CHAPTER XII.

SECOND MISSION TO CHINA. OUTWARD.

LORD ELGIN IN ENGLAND—ORIGIN OF SECOND MISSION TO CHINA—GLOOMY PROSPECTS —EGYPT—THE PYRAMIDS—THE SPHINX—PASSENGERS HOMEWARD BOUND—CEYLON— SHIPWRECK—PENANG—SINGAPORE—SHANGHAE—MEETING WITH MR. BRUCE—TALIEN— WHAN—SIR HOPE GRANT—PLANS FOR LANDING.

[Sidenote: Lord Elgin in England.]

When Lord Elgin returned, in 1854, from the Government of Canada, there were comparatively few persons in England who knew or cared anything about the great work which he had done in the colony. But his brilliant successes in the East attracted public interest, and gave currency to his reputation; and when he returned from China in the spring of 1859 he was received with every honour. Two great parliamentary chiefs, Lord Derby and Lord Grey, from opposite sides of the House of Lords, contended for the credit of having first introduced him into public life. Lord Palmerston, who was at the time engaged in forming a new Administration, again offered him a place in it, and he accepted the office of Postmaster-General. The students of Glasgow paid him the compliment of electing him as their Lord Rector; and the merchants of London showed their sense of what he had done for their commerce, first by the enthusiastic reception which they gave him at a dinner at the Mansion House, and afterwards by conferring upon him the freedom of their city.

Lord Elgin was not one of those men, if any such there be, who are indifferent to the appreciation of their fellows. He could, indeed, in a mock-cynical humour, write of what a man must do 'if he thinks it worth while to stand well with others:'[1] but in himself there was nothing of the cynic, and to stand well with others was to his genial nature a source of genuine and undisguised gratification. It was well said of him afterwards in reference to the honours paid to him at this period, that while he did not require the stimulus of praise, or even sympathy, to keep him to his work, but would have worked on for life, whether appreciated or overlooked, still 'he whose sympathies were always ready and warm enjoyed himself being understood and valued; and that welcome in the City was very cheering to him after his long experience of English indifference about Canada and what he had done there.'

He was not destined, however, to enjoy for long either the tranquil dignities of his new position or the comfortable sense of a work accomplished and completed. Fresh troubles broke out in the East; and, on the 26th of April, 1860, within less than a year after his arrival in England, he was again crossing the Channel on his way back to China.

[Sidenote: Origin of Second Mission to China.]

The Chinese Government, tractable enough under the present influence of a bold and determined spirit, had returned to its old ways when that pressure was removed. It had been agreed that the Treaty of Tien-tsin should be formally ratified within the year, that is, before the 26th of June, 1859; and, when the time approached, Mr. Bruce was commissioned to proceed to Pekin for the purpose of exchanging the ratifications. On arriving, however, at the mouth of the Peiho, he found the Taku forts, which guard the mouth of the river, fortified against him; and when the men-of-war which accompanied him went forward to remove the barriers that had been laid across the river, they were fired upon from the forts. As no such resistance had been expected, no provision had been made for overcoming it; and Mr. Bruce had no choice but to return to Shanghae, and report to the Government at home what had occurred.

For some time it seems to have been hoped that the Emperor of China, when fully informed of the misconduct of his officers in firing upon British ships without notice, would have been ready to make the proper amende; but when this hope was dispelled, it became clear that such an outrage must be summarily dealt with. A large force, both naval and military, was ordered from England and India to the China seas, to co-operate there with forces sent by the French, who felt themselves scarcely less aggrieved than the English by the repudiation of the common Treaty.

For the command of this expedition there was one man whom all parties alike regarded as marked out at once by character and ability, and by previous experience. On the 17th of April, 1860, Lord Russell, who was then Foreign Secretary, wrote officially to Lord Elgin that 'Her Majesty, resolved to employ every means calculated to establish peace with the Emperor of China, had determined to call upon him again to give his valuable services to promote this important object, and had signified her intention of appointing him to proceed to China as her Ambassador Extraordinary to deal with these matters.' His instructions were necessarily of the vaguest. After touching upon some of the awkward contingencies that might arise, Lord Russell proceeded: 'In these circumstances your 'Lordship and your enlightened colleague, Baron Gros, will be required to exercise those personal qualities of firmness and discretion which have induced Her Majesty and her Ally to place their confidence in you and the French Plenipotentiary.' The only conditions named as indispensable were, (1) an apology for the attack on the Allied forces at the Peiho; (2) the ratification and execution of the Treaty of Tientsin; (3) the payment of an indemnity to the Allies for the expenses of naval and military preparations.

To be called away from the happy home which he so rarely enjoyed and enlightened, and to be sent out again to the ends of the world on such a service, was no light sacrifice even to his patriotic spirit; and the feeling of this was perhaps aggravated by the half-hope cherished during the first few weeks, that any day he might be met by tidings that the Chinese had made the required concessions, and that the affair was settled. The following extracts from his Journal reflect something of this.

[Sidenote: Gloomy prospects.]

Sunday, April 29th.—Off Sardinia.—So much for my chronicle; but I write it with a certain feeling of repugnance and self-reproach. It was very well on the occasion of my first voyage, when I wished to share with you whatever charm the novelty of the scenes through which I was passing might supply to mitigate the pain of our separation. But this time there is no such pretext for the record of our daily progress. I am going through scenes which I have visited before, on an errand of which the issue is almost more than doubtful. When I see my friend Gros I feel myself doubly guilty, in having consented to undertake this task, and thus compelled him to make the same sacrifice. And Frederick—what will he think of my coming out? It is a dark sky all around. There is only one bright side to the picture. It is very unlikely that my absence can be of long duration. If such ideas were to prevail in England as those which are embodied in an article on China, which is to appear in the forthcoming Blackwood, I might be detained long enough in that quarter; but these are not the views of the public or the statesmen of England. What is desired is a speedy settlement, on reasonable terms—as good terms as possible; but let the settlement be speedy. This, I think, is the fixed idea of all. Gros tells me that when he took leave the Emperor grasped both his hands, thanked him with effusion, and said that not one man in fifty would make such a sacrifice as he (Gros) was doing.

Monday, 30th.—I do not know whether I shall do much more to this letter before I reach Malta, for we are both rolling and pitching, which is not favourable to writing, the climate has now changed. It is very near perfection in point of temperature. If we could only keep it so all the way! We expect to reach Malta this evening, and remain about four hours. Where are you now?… Have you returned to your desolate home? I think I see B. looking up to you with his thoughtful eyes, and dear little L. putting pointed questions, and, in her arch way, saying such kind and tender words!… You must continue to write, as you did last time, all you are doing and thinking, that I may reproduce, as faithfully as I can, the life which you are living. I do the same by you, though it is with a more leaden pen than formerly…. Poor Gros has retired to his cabin in order to take a horizontal position. Many of my companions are in the same way.

[Sidenote: Old letters.]

May 3rd.—Are you still shivering in the cold, while I am gliding through the calm sea under an awning, and going against a breeze sufficiently light to do no more than fan us pleasantly? If it would never go beyond this, there is certainly something very delightful in such a climate; the clear atmosphere, bright stars, light nights, and soft air; and to be wafted along through all this, as we now are, at the rate of some twelve miles an hour, with so little motion that we hardly know that we are making progress. It will be a different story, I fear, when we get into the Red Sea, where we may expect a wind behind us, and around us the hot air of the Desert!… I have been employing myself for a good part of to-day in a sad work. I took with me a number of letters of very old date, and have been looking over them, and tearing up a great part of them, and throwing them overboard. I thought it would be an occupation suited to this heavy tropical sea-life. I shall be sorry when it is over, as it is also soothing, and brings back many pleasing memories which had nearly faded away. Some few I keep, because they are landmarks of my past life.

[Sidenote: The Pyramids.]
[Sidenote: The Sphinx.]

Steamer 'Simla.'—May 9th.—I had only a few moments to write before we left Suez, and my writing, such as it was, I performed under difficulties, as the bustle of passengers finding their cabins, and conveying to them their luggage, or such portions of it as they could rescue from its descent into the hold, was going on all around me. I had, therefore, only time to tell you that our visit to the Pyramids has been a success. It was one of the greatest which I ever achieved in that line. It came about in this way. When Baron Gros and I, accompanied by Betts Bey, the chief director of the railway, were journeying in our pachalic state-carriage from Alexandria to Cairo, a question arose as to how we were to spend the few hours which we should have to remain at the latter place. I expressed a desire to see the Pyramids, as I had witnessed all the other lions of Cairo. But Betts Bey observed, that to go there during the day, at this season of the year, was a service of considerable danger, the risk of sunstroke being more than usually great. We were, in fact, traversing Egypt during the period (of about six weeks' duration) when the wind from the south blows, and the only air one receives is like the blast of a furnace heavily charged with sand. He added, however, that it was not impossible to go to the Pyramids at night, remain there till dawn, see the sunrise from the summit, and return before the great heats of the day. When I found myself at Cairo, I proposed to my entourage that we should undertake this expedition. My proposal was eagerly accepted, especially by 'Our own Correspondent,' Mr. Bowlby, who is a remarkably agreeable person, and has become very much one of our party. It was arranged that we should dine at the table d'hote at 7 P.M., start at 9, in carriages to the crossing of the Nile (about four miles), and on donkeys from Gieja (about six miles). The Pasha's state-coach came to the door at the appointed hour; we started, our own party, Mr. Bowlby, Captain F., and M. de B., Gros' secretary. Gros himself, having twice seen the Pyramids, declined going with us. The moon was very nearly full, and but for the honour of the thing we might have dispensed with the torch-bearers, who ran before the carriage and preceded the donkeys, after we adopted that humbler mode of locomotion. Our row across the river to the chant of the boatmen invoking the aid of a sainted dervish, and our ride through the fertile borders of the Nile, covered with crops and palm-trees, were very lovely, and, after about an hour and a half from Cairo, we emerged upon the Desert. The Pyramids seemed then almost within reach of our outstretched arms, but lo! they were in fact some four miles distant. We kept moving on at a sort of ambling walk; and the first sign of our near approach was the appearance of a crowd of Arabs who poured out of a village to offer us their aid in various ways. We had been told before we started, that a party who had visited the Pyramids the night before had been a good deal victimised by these Arabs, who, alas! in these degenerate days, have no other mode of indulging their predatory propensities than by exacting the greatest possible amount of 'backshish' from travellers who visit the Pyramids. We pushed on over the heaps of sand and débris, or probably covered-up tombs, which surround the base of the Pyramids, when we suddenly came in face of the most remarkable object on which my eye ever lighted. Somehow or other I had not thought of the Sphinx till I saw her before me. There she was in all her imposing magnitude, crouched on the margin of the Desert, looking over the fertile valley of the Nile, and her gaze fixed on the East as if in earnest expectation of the sun-rising. And such a gaze! The mystical light and deep shadows cast by the moon, gave to it an intensity which I cannot attempt to describe. To me it seemed a look, earnest, searching, but unsatisfied. For a long time I remained transfixed, endeavouring to read the meaning conveyed by this wonderful eye; but I was struck after a while by what seemed a contradiction in the expression of the eye and of the mouth. There was a singular gentleness and hopefulness in the lines of the mouth, which appeared to be in contrast with the anxious eye. Mr. Bowlby, who was a very sympathique inquirer into the significancy of this wonderful monument, agreed with me in thinking that the upper part of the face spoke of the intellect striving, and striving vainly, to solve the mystery—(What mystery? the mystery, shall we say, of God's universe or of man's destiny?)—while the lower indicated a moral conviction that all must be well, and that this truth would in good time be made manifest.

We could hardly tear ourselves away from this fascinating spectacle to draw nearer to the Great Pyramid, which stood beside us, its outline sharply traced in the clear atmosphere. We walked round and round it, thinking of the strange men whose ambition to secure immortality for themselves had expressed itself in this giant creation. The enormous blocks of granite brought from one knows not where, built up one knows not how; the form selected solely for the purpose of defying the assaults of time; the contrast between the conception embodied in these constructions and the talk of the frivolous race by whom we were surrounded, and who seemed capable of no thought beyond a desire for daily 'backshish,'—all this seen and felt under the influence of the dim moonlight was very striking and impressive. We spent some time in moving from place to place along the shadow cast by the Pyramid upon the sand, and observing the effect produced by bringing the moon sometimes to its apex and sometimes to other points on its outline. I felt no disposition to exchange for sleep the state of dreamy half- consciousness in which I was wandering about; but at length I lay down on the shingly sands, with a block of granite for a pillow, and passed an hour or two, sometimes dozing, sometimes wakeful, till one of our attendants informed me that the sun would shortly rise, and that it was time to commence to ascend the Pyramid, if we intended to witness from its summit his first appearance. We had intended to spend the night in the tombs, but it was so hot that we were only too glad to select the spot in which we could get the greatest amount of air. A very soft and gentle breeze, wafted across the Desert from an unknown distance, fanned me as I slept. The ascent was, I confess, a much more formidable undertaking than I had anticipated; and our French friend gave in after attempting a few steps. The last words which had passed between him and me before we retired to rest, were interchanged as we were standing in front of the Sphinx, and were characteristic: Ah! que c'est drôle! was the reassuring exclamation which fell from his lips while we were there transfixed and awestruck. As far as the ascent of the Pyramid was concerned, I am not sure but that I was sometimes tempted to follow his example, when I found how great was the effort required to mount up, in the hot air, the huge blocks of granite, and the unpleasantness of feeling every now and then with what facility one might topple downwards. This sensation was most disagreeably felt when, as generally happened at any very critical place, my Arab friends, who were helping me up, began to talk of 'backshish,' and to insinuate that a small amount given at once, and before the ascent was completed, would be particularly acceptable. However, after a while the summit was reached. I am not sure that it repaid the trouble; at any rate, I do not think I should ever wish to make the ascent again. We had a horizon all around tinted very much like Turner's early pictures, and becoming brighter and more variegated as the dawn advanced, until it melted into day. Behind, and on two sides of us, was the barren and treeless Desert, stretching out as far as the eye could reach. Before us, the fertile valley of the Nile; the river meandering through it, and, in the distance, Cairo, with its mosques and minarets, the highest, the Citadel Mosque, standing out boldly upon the horizon. It was a fine view, and had a character of its own, but still it was not in kind very different from other views which I have seen from elevated points in a flat country. It does not stand forth among my recollections as a spectacle unique, and never to be forgotten, as that of the night before does. Very soon after the sun rose the heat became painful on our elevated seat, and we hastened to descend-an operation somewhat difficult, but not so serious as the ascent had been. We mounted our donkeys, and after paying a farewell visit to the Sphinx, we returned to Cairo as we had come, all agreeing that our expedition was one of the most agreeable and interesting we had ever made. I confess that it was with something of fear and trembling that I returned to the Sphinx that morning. I feared that the impressions which I had received the night before might be effaced by the light of day. But it was not so. The lines were fainter, and less deeply marked, but I found, or thought I found, the same meaning in them still.

[Sidenote: Passengers homeward bound.]

May 10th.—We are now passing some islands, nearly opposite to Mocha: to morrow at an early hour we shall probably reach Aden. Shall we find any Chinese news there? And if we do, what will be its character? We have not yet heard a syllable to induce us to think that matters will be settled without a conflict, but then we have seen nothing official. We met, at the station-house on the Nile, between Alexandria and Cairo, the passengers by the last Calcutta mail-steamer. There were some from China among them, but I could gather from them nothing of any interest. It was a curious scene, by the way, that meeting: 260 first-class passengers, including children, pale and languid-looking, thrown into a great barn-like refectory, in which were already assembled our voyage companions (we ourselves had a separate room), jovial-looking, and with roses in their cheeks, which they are doubtless hastening to offer at the shrine of the sun. These two opposing currents, bearing such legible records of the climes from which they severally came, met for a moment on the banks of the Nile, time enough to interchange a few hasty words, and then rushed on in opposite directions. As I am not like the Englishman in 'Eothen,' who passes his countryman in the Desert without accosting him, I had as much talk as I could with all the persons coming from China whom I could find, though, as I said, without obtaining any information of value.

[Sidenote: Perim.]

May 11th.—Seven A.M.—Before I retired last night, I saw, through the starlight (we have little moon now) Perim. On the right is an excellent safe channel, eleven miles wide; so that it will be impossible to command the entrance of the Red Sea from Perim. There is a good anchorage on this side, so says our captain; but of course we could not see it. I am sorry we passed it so late, as I should have liked Gros to have seen it, in order that he might calm the susceptibilities of his Government in respect to its formidable character. I enclose a little bit of a plant which I gathered on my return from the Pyramids. The botanist on board says it is a species of camomile. It is a commonplace plant, with a little blue flower, but I took a fancy to it, because it had the pluck to venture farther into the Desert, and to approach nearer the Pyramids than any other which I saw.

[Sidenote: Aden.]

On Shore at Aden.—Noon.—I am at the house of Captain Playfair, who represents the Resident during his absence. A very pleasant breeze is blowing through the wall of reeds or bamboo, which encloses the verandah in which I am writing. I am most agreeably disappointed by the temperature; and, strange to say, both Captain P. and his wife do not complain of Aden! So it is with all who live here. And yet, when one looks at the place, dry as a heap of ashes, glared upon by a tropical sun, without a single blade of grass to repose the eye, or a drop of moisture from above to cool the air, save only about once in two years, when the sluices of Heaven are opened, and the torrents come down with a fury unexampled elsewhere, one feels at first inclined to doubt whether it can be possible for human beings to live here. I suppose that it is the reaction, produced by finding that it is not quite so bad as it appears, that reconciles people to their lot, and makes them so contented. We have got some scraps of China news; and what there is, seems to be pacific.

[Sidenote: Books.]

At Sea.—May 15th.—If we go on to China, if we take the matter in hand, then I think, coûte que coûte, we must finish it, and finish it thoroughly. I do not believe that it will take us long to do so; but the indispensable is, that it should be done. This is my judgment on the matter, and I tell it to you as it presents itself to my own mind; but how much wiser is Gros, who does not peer into the dim future, but awaits calmly the dispersion of the mists which surround it!… He has been reading the book on Buddhism (St. Hilaire's), which I got on your recommendation, and have lent him. I have myself read Thiers; the Idylls over again; some other poems of Tennyson's, &c. &c. The first of these is very interesting. The passion of the French nation for the name of Napoleon seems more and more wonderful when one peruses the record of the frightful sufferings which he brought upon them; and yet, at the time when his reign was drawing to its close, the disgust occasioned by his tyranny seemed to be the ruling sentiment with all classes. As to the Idylls, on a second perusal I like 'Enid' better than on the first; 'Vivien' better; 'Elaine' less; and 'Guinevere' still best of all. Nothing in the volume can approach the last interview between Arthur and the Queen.

May 19_th._—We are to reach Galle to-morrow or next day…. I think of you and the dear small ones, to whom I feel myself drawn more closely than ever; for, in spite of my preoccupations, I became better acquainted with them during my last eleven months at home, than ever before-dear B.'s full and thoughtful eye; L.'s engaging and loving ways. Oh that I could be at home and at peace to enjoy all this!

[Sidenote: Ceylon.]

Ceylon, May 21_st._—Last night was black and stormy, and when I came on deck this morning, I was told that we did not know exactly where we were; that we had turned our ship's head homewards, and were searching for Ceylon. We found it after a while, and landed in a pelt of rain at about noon…. On landing, I asked eagerly for China news. Hardly any to be obtained; little more than vague surmises. Nothing to justify an arrest of our movements, so we must go on. I do not know how it is, but I feel sadder and more depressed than I have felt before. I cannot but contrast my position when in this house a year ago with my present position. Then I was returning to you, looking forward to your dear welcome, complete success having crowned my mission to China, I am now going from you on this difficult and unwelcome errand…. I feel as if I knew every stone of the place where I passed so many weary hours, waiting for Frederick, with a fever on me, or coming on. Gros is in the next room bargaining for rubies and sapphires; but I do not feel disposed to indulge in such extravagances…. The steamer in which we are to proceed to-morrow looks very small, with diminutive portholes. We shall be a large party, and, I fear, very closely packed.

[Sidenote: Russell on the Indian Mutiny.]

May 22nd.—Have you read Russell's book on the Indian Mutiny? I have done so, and I recommend it to you. It has made me very sad; but it only confirms what I believed before respecting the scandalous treatment which the natives receive at our hands in India. I am glad that he has had courage to speak out as he does on this point. Can I do anything to prevent England from calling down on herself God's curse for brutalities committed on another feeble Oriental race? Or are all my exertions to result only in the extension of the area over which Englishmen are to exhibit how hollow and superficial are both their civilisation and their Christianity?… The tone of the two or three men connected with mercantile houses in China whom I find on board is all for blood and massacre on a great scale, I hope they will be disappointed; but it is not a cheering or hopeful prospect, look at it from what side one may.

[Sidenote: Shipwreck.]

Galle, May 23rd.—L'homme propose, mais…. I ended my letter yesterday by telling you that I was about to embark for Singapore amid torrents of rain and growlings of thunder; but I little thought what was to follow on this inauspicious embarkation. We got on board the Peninsular and Oriental steamer 'Malabar' with some difficulty, there was so much sea where the vessel was lying; and I was rather disgusted to find, when I mounted the deck, that some of the cargo or baggage had not yet arrived, and that we were not ready for a start. I was already half wet through, and there was nothing for it but to sit still on a bench under a dripping awning. About twenty minutes after I had established myself in this position, the wind suddenly shifted, and burst upon us with great fury from the north-east. The monsoon, now due, comes from the south-west, and therefore a gale from the north-east was unexpected, though I must say that, as we were being assailed by constant thunderstorms, we had no right, in my opinion, to consider ourselves secure on any side against the assaults of the wind. Be this however as it may, the gale was so violent that I observed to some one near me that it reminded me of a typhoon. I had hardly made this remark, when a severe shock, accompanied by a grating sound, conveyed to me the disagreeable information that the stern of the vessel was on the rocks. Whether we tad two anchors out or one; whether our cables were hove taut or not; whether we had thirty fathoms out or only fifteen, are points still in dispute; but at any rate we had no steam; so, after we once were on the rock, we had for some time no means of getting off it. During this period the thumping and grating continued. It seemed, moreover, once or twice, to be probable that we should run foul of a ship moored near us. However, after a while, the engines began to work, and then symptoms of a panic manifested themselves. The passengers came running up to me, saying that the captain was evidently going to sea, that there were merchant captains and others on board who declared that the certain destruction of the ship and all on board would be the consequence, and begging me to interfere to save the lives of all, my own included. At first I declined to do anything,—told them that I had no intention of taking the command of the ship, and recommended them in that respect to follow my example. At last, however, as they became importunate, I sent Crealock[2] to the captain, with my compliments, to ask him whether we were going to sea. The answer was not encouraging, and went a small way towards raising the spirits of my nervous friends around me. 'Going to sea,' said the captain, 'why, we are going to the bottom.' The fact is that we were at the time when that reply was given going pretty rapidly to the bottom. The water was rising fast in the after-part of the ship, and to this providential circumstance I ascribe our safety. The captain started with the hope that he would be able to pump into his boilers all the water made by the leak. If he had succeeded, the chances are that by this time the whole concern would have been deposited somewhere in the bed of the ocean. The leak was, however, too much for him, and he had nothing for it but to run over to the opposite side of the anchorage, where there is a sandy bay, and there to beach his ship. We performed this operation successfully, though at times it seemed probable that the water would gain upon us so quickly as to stop the working of the engines before we reached our destination. If this had happened we should have drifted on some of the rocks with which the harbour abounds. When we had got the stern of the vessel into the sand we discovered that we had not accomplished much, for the said sand being very loose, almost of the character of quicksand, and the sea running high, the stern kept sinking almost as rapidly as when it had nothing but water below it. The cabins were already full of water, and the object was to land the passengers. As usual, there was the greatest difficulty in launching any of the ship's boats, and none of the vessels in the harbour, except one Frenchman (and one English I have since heard, but its boat was swamped, and therefore I did not see it), saw fit to send a boat to our assistance. In order to prevent too great a rush to the boats, I thought it expedient to announce that the women must go first, and that, for my own part, I intended to leave the ship last.[3] This I was enabled to do without unnecessary parade, as the first boat lowered was offered to me,—and no doubt the announcement had some effect in keeping things quiet and obviating the risk of swamping the boats, which was the only danger we had then to apprehend. Such were our adventures of yesterday afternoon. I had a presentiment that something would happen at Galle, though I could hardly have anticipated that I should be wrecked, and wrecked within the harbour!… Five P.M.—I have just been on the beach looking at our wreck. The stern, and up to the funnel is now all under water. A. jury of 'experts' have sat on the case, and their decision is, that nothing can be done to recover what is in the after part of the vessel (passenger's luggage and specie) until the next monsoon sets in—some five or six months hence! A wardrobe which has spent that period of time under the sea will be a curiosity!

This untoward accident detained him for a fort-night at Galle, occupied in superintending and pressing on the operation of fishing up what could be saved from the wreck. By the aid of divers, his 'Full Powers' and his decorations were recovered, together with most of his wearing apparel; but his 'letter of credence' was gone, and he had to telegraph to the Foreign Office for a duplicate.

[Sidenote: News from China.]

In the meantime the lingering hope which he had cherished of an immediate return to England was dispelled by accounts from China, which made it clear that he must proceed thither and go through with the expedition.

May 28th.—Seven A.M.—This will be a sad letter to you, and I write it with a heavy heart, though we have much to be thankful for in the issue of this adventure…. I trust that Providence reserves for us a time of real quiet and enjoyment. I go to China with the determination, God willing! to bring matters there to a speedy settlement. I think that this is as indispensable for the public as for my own private interest. Gros is of the same opinion. I still hope, therefore, that with the change of the monsoon we may be wending our way homewards.

[Sidenote: Missionary station.]

June 3rd.—Nothing has occurred to mark the lapse of time except a visit we paid two days ago to a place called Ballagam, some ten miles from here. It is a missionary station, built by the money of the Church Missionary Society, or by funds raised through the Society. It is situated on rising ground, and consists of an excellent bungalow for the missionary, a church, and a school. A good part of the building is upon an artificial terrace supported by masonry, and must have cost a great deal of money. It appears that at one time, while the work was going on, and cash was abundant, the congregation of so- called Christians numbered some 400. It is now reduced to thirty adults and about fifty children. The European missionary has left the place, and it is in the hands of a native missionary. It gave me a lively idea of the way in which good people in England are done out of their money for such schemes.

June 4th.—This morning I was awakened by the appearance of Loch in my room, carrying a bag with letters from England. I jumped up and opened yours, ended on the 10th of May. Your letter is a great compensation for our shipwreck and delay, and it is at once a strange coincidence and contrast to what happened on the last occasion. Then your first letters to me were shipwrecked, and delayed a month in reaching me. This time I have been shipwrecked myself almost in the same place, and I have got your dear letter a month sooner than I had anticipated. How differently do events turn out from our expectations!… I suppose we shall get off to-morrow, though the steamer for China is not yet arrived…. I have saved a considerable portion of my effects, some a good deal damaged. But some of my staff have lost much more, as they travel with a greater quantity of clothing, &c., than I do.

At last, on the 5th of June, they were able to leave Ceylon; and they reached Penang, after a rough passage, on the 11th.

[Sidenote: Penang.]

Steamer 'Pekin,' Straits of Malacca.—June 12th.—You may perhaps remember that, when I first visited Penang in 1857, the Chinese established there mustered in force to do me honour. There was a sketch in the 'Illustrated News,' which portrayed our landing. No similar demonstration took place on this occasion; whether this was the result of accident or design, I cannot tell…. I have every inducement to labour to bring my work to a close; to reach sooner that peaceful home-life towards which I am always aspiring…. I think that I have a duty to perform out here; but as to any advantage which will accrue to myself from its performance, I am, I confess, very little hopeful…. It is terrible to think how long I may have to wait for my next letters. If we go on to the North at once, we shall be always increasing the distance that separates us. It is wearisome, too, passing over ground which I have travelled twice before. No interest of novelty to relieve the mind. Penang and Ceylon are very lovely, but one cares little, I think, for revisiting scenes which owe all their charm to the beauties of external nature. It is different when such beauties are the setting, in which are deposited historical associations, and the memories of great deeds or events. I do not feel the slightest desire to see again any even of the most lovely of the scenes I have witnessed in this part of the world. Indeed, so tired am I of this route, that I sometimes feel tempted to try to return by way of the Pacific, if I could do so without much loss of time…. This is only a passing idea, however, and not likely to be realised.

[Sidenote: Singapore.]

June 13th.—Singapore.—We arrived at about noon. I find a new governor, Colonel Cavanagh…. I am to take up my abode at the Government House. Not much news from China, but a letter from Hope Grant, asking me to order to China a Sikh regiment, which has been stopped here by Canning's orders, and I think I shall take the responsibility of reversing C.'s order, with which the men were very much disgusted.

The next day he was afloat again, on his way to Hong-Kong.

June 14th.—When you receive this, you will be thinking of dear Bruce's school plans. Would that I could share your thoughts and anxieties!… I have been reading a rather curious book—the 'Life of Perthes,' a Hamburg bookseller. It reveals something of the working of the inner life of Germany during the time of the first Napoleonic Empire. It might interest you.

[Sidenote: Books.]

June 17th.—Another Sunday. How many since we parted? I cannot count them. It seems to me as if a good many years had elapsed since that sad evening at Dover. But here I am going on farther and farther from home! We hope to reach Hong-Kong on Thursday next; but that is not the end of my voyage, though it is the beginning of my work. I am still comparatively idle, ransacking the captain's cabin for books. The last I have read is Kingsley's 'Two Years Ago.' I do not wonder that you ladies like Kingsley, for he makes all his women guardian angels.

June 19th.—I have read Trench's 'Lectures on English' since yesterday. I think you know them, but I had not done more than glance at them before. They open up a curious field of research if one had time enough to enter upon it. The monotony of our life is not broken by many incidents. Tennyson's poem of the 'Lotus-Eaters' suits us well, as we move noiselessly through this polished sea, on which the great eye of the sun is glaring down from above. We passed a ship yesterday with all sails set. This was an event; to-day a butterfly made its appearance. In two days I may be forming decisions on which the well-being of thousands of our fellow-creatures may be contingent.

June 20th.—Still it is sad, sometimes almost overwhelming, to think of the many causes of anxiety from which you may be suffering, of which for months I can have no knowledge, and with which these letters when you receive them may seem to have no sympathy…. I can only pray that you may have in your troubles a protection and a guidance more effectual than any which I could afford when I was with you…. As to my own particular interests, I mean those connected with my mission, I can hardly form any conjectures…. I am glad that the time for work is arriving, though I cannot but feel a little nervous anxiety until I know what I shall learn at Hong-Kong respecting our prospects with the Chinese, &c. &c.

Arrived at Hong-Kong on the following day, he found letters from his brother Frederick—'generous and magnanimous as ever'—giving him some hope of there being an opening for diplomacy, and a chance of settling matters speedily. In this hope he pressed on to Shanghae, whither the naval and military authorities with whom he was to act had preceded him.

Steamship 'Ferooz.'—At Sea.—June 27th.—We are rolling a great deal and very uncomfortably,—a more disagreeable passage than I made last time in the month of March. So much for all the talk about the monsoon…. Writing is no easy matter; and I shall probably also have little time after reaching Shanghae to-morrow, as the mail is likely to leave on Saturday next, and I may have despatches to send which will occupy my time…. I cannot go much farther, for already I am separated from you by nearly one-half of the globe. I sometimes think of how I am to return for a change,—by the Pacific, by Siberia. It would be rather a temptation to take this overland route. Thurlow,[4] it appears, has already written to St. Petersburg to ask leave for himself and Crealock to return through Russia. Alas! these are castles in the air, very well to indulge in before we reach Shanghae and the stern realities of the mission.

[Sidenote: Shanghae.]

At Shanghae he had the happiness of meeting his brother, and the benefit of hearing from his own lips a full account of the past, and discussing with him their common plans for the future. The noble qualities of that brother, shining out the more brightly in adverse circumstances, filled him with admiration which his affectionate nature delighted to express.

[Sidenote: Mr. Bruce.]

Shanghae.—June 30th.—Frederick is a noble-hearted man; perhaps the noblest I have ever met with in my experience of my fellows…. He has had a most difficult task here to perform, and to the best of my judgment has performed it with great ability.

Shanghae, July 1st.—Frederick, partly from generosity of character, and partly from sympathy with the Admiral and admiration of his valour, abstained from stating in his own justification all the circumstances of the unfortunate affair at the Peiho last year. Moreover, Frederick's policy at the mouth of the Peiho was one which required success to justify it in the eyes of persons at a distance. After the failure, no matter by whose fault, he could not have escaped invidious criticism, however clear might have been his demonstration that for that failure he was not directly or indirectly responsible. Therefore I think it probable that the result will prove that, in following the dictates of his own generous nature, he adopted the course which in the long-run will be found to have been the wisest…. I do not like to speak too confidently of the future. Of course their victory of last year has increased the self-confidence of the Chinese Government, and rendered it more arrogant in its tone. Nevertheless, I am of opinion that the result will prove that I estimated correctly their power of resistance; that we have spent in our armaments against them three times as much as was necessary; and that, if we have difficulties to encounter, they are likely to be due not to the strength of the enemy, but to the cumbrous preparations of ourselves and allies, and the loss of time and hazards of climate, and other embarrassments which we are creating for ourselves. My last remark to Lord Palmerston was, that I would rather march on Pekin with 5,000 men than with 25,000.

On board the 'Ferooz.'—July 5th.—Four P.M._—We have passed out of the Shanghae river into the Yangtze-kiang. It is delightfully cool, and the wind which is now against us will be with us when we get out to sea, and direct our course to the North. … Frederick's conduct has won for him, and most justly, general admiration. A hint was given to me before I started, that an ambassador would meet me at the mouth of the Peiho as soon as I arrived. If a proceeding of this nature on the part of the Court of Pekin precedes our capture of the forts, it will be a great embarrassment to me. The poor old 'Furious' was lying at anchor at Shanghae. To see her brought back many feelings of 'auld lang syne.' Shanghae altogether excited in my mind a good deal of a home feeling. It was the place at which, during my first mission, I tad enjoyed most repose. … Frederick remains there until I have completed my work in the North, and I think he is right in doing so, although I should have been glad of his company and assistance.

July 6th.—It does not do to be sanguine in this world, still I have cause to hope that our business in the North will be speedily settled, if we can only get the French to begin at once. What I have to consider is how best to prevent my mission from impairing in any degree Frederick's authority and prestige. As regards his own countrymen there is little danger of this result; he already stands so high in their esteem. With the Chinese there may be more fear of this result; but it is so much in accordance with their notions that an elder brother should take the part which I am now doing, that I do not think the risk is great, and were it so, even, I should find some means of counteracting the evil.

[Sidenote: Talie-Whan]

The place appointed for the assembling of the English forces was the bay of Talien-Whan, near the southern extremity of a promontory named Regent's Sword, which, running down from the north into the Yellow Sea, cuts off on its western side a large gulf, of which the northern part is known by the name of Leao-Tong, the southern by the name of Pecheli. The rendezvous of the French was at Chefoo, about eighty miles south of Talien-Whan, on the opposite side of the strait which forms the entrance of the large gulf already mentioned. Both places are about 200 miles distant from the mouth of the Peiho, which is at the western extremity of the gulf.

It was on the 9th of July that Lord Elgin reached the shores where lay already congregated the formidable force, for the employment of which, as the secular arm of his diplomacy, he was henceforth to be responsible.

July 9th.—Eight A.M.—It is a calm sea and scorching sun, very hot, and it looks hotter still in that bay, protected by bare rocky promontories and islets, and backed by hills, within which we discover a fleet at anchor. What will this day bring forth? How much we are in the hand of Providence 'rough-hew our ends as we may!' In little more than an hour we shall probably be at our journey's close for the time.

[Sidenote: Country-people.]

I have just heard a story of the poor country-people here. A few days ago, a party of drunken sailors went to a village, got into a row, and killed a man by mistake. On the day following, three officers went to the village armed with revolvers. The villagers surrounded them, took from them the revolvers (whether the officers fired or not is disputed), and then conducted them, without doing them any injury, to their boat. An officer, with an interpreter, was then sent to the village to ask for the revolvers. They were at once given up, the villagers stating that they had no wish to take them, but that as one of their number had been shot already, they objected to people coming to them with arms.

July 10th.—What will the House of Commons say when the bill which has to be paid for this war is presented? The expense is enormous: in my opinion, utterly disproportionate to the objects to be effected. The Admiral is doing things excellently well, if money be no object.

July 12th.-We are in a delightful climate. Troops and all in good health. I shall not, however, dilate on these points, because I am sure you will read all about it in the Times. 'Our Own Correspondent' is in the next cabin to me, completing his letter. I leave it to him to tell all the agreeable and amusing things that are occurring around us. My letters to you are nothing but the record of incidents that happen to affect me at the time; trifling things sometimes; sometimes things that irritate; things that pass often and leave no impression, as clouds reflected on a lake.

[Sidenote: Cavalry camp.]
[Sidenote: Sir Hope Grant.]

Talien-Whan Bay.—July 14th.—Yesterday, at an early hour, the French Admiral and General arrived. It was agreed that they should go over to the cavalry camp on the other side of the bay, some ten miles off, and that I should accompany them. No doubt you will see in the Times a full account of all that took place on the occasion. Nothing could be more perfect than the condition of the force, both men and horses. The picturesqueness of the scene; the pleasant bay, with its sandy margin and background of bleak hills, seamed by the lines of the cavalry tents; the troops drawn up in the foreground in all their variety of colour and costume, from the two squadrons of H.M.'s Dragoon Guards on the right to the two squadrons of Fane's light-blue Sikh Irregulars on the left; the experiments with the Armstrong guns—from one of which a shell was fired which went over the hills and vanished into space, no one knows whither—will all be described by a more graphic pen than mine. The weather was excellent. Enough covering over the sky to prevent the rays of the sun from striking us too fiercely, and yet no rain. The proceedings of the day terminated by some tours de force of the Sikh cavalry and their officers; wrenching tent-pegs from the ground with their lances, and cutting oranges with their sabres when at full gallop. Everything went to confirm the favourable opinion of the state of the army here which I expressed in my last letter. Hope Grant seems very much liked. It can hardly be otherwise, for there is a quiet simplicity and kindliness about his manner which, in a man so highly placed, must be most winning. I am particularly struck by the grin of delight with which the men of a regiment of Sikhs (infantry) who were with him at Lucknow, greet him whenever they meet him. I observed on this to him, and he said: 'Oh, we were always good friends. I used to visit them when they were sick, poor fellows. They are in many ways different from the Mohammedans. Their wives used to come in numbers, and walk over the house where Lady Grant and I lived.' The contrast with what I saw when I was in China before, in regard to the treatment of the natives, is most remarkable. There seems to be really no plundering or bullying. In so far as I can see, we have here at present a truly model army and navy: not however, I fear, a cheap one.

The Admiral told me last night he had written to the Admiralty to say that, looking to the future, he believed there were two distinct operations by which the Pekin Government could be coerced,—either by a military force on a large scale such as this, or by a blockade of the Gulf of Pecheli, undertaken early in the year, &c. I was glad to hear him say this, because I recommended the latter course immediately after we heard of the Peiho disaster, with a view to save all this expenditure; and I still think that if the measures which I advised had been adopted, including the sending up to the north of China two or three regiments (enough, with the assistance of the fleet, to take the Taku Forts), much of this outlay might have been spared.

Sunday, July 15th.—I have been on board the Admiral's ship for church. Afterwards I had some talk with him in regard to future proceedings. … The problem we have to solve here is a very difficult one; for while we are up here for the purpose of bringing pressure to bear on the Emperor, as a means of placing our relations with China on a proper footing, we have news from the South which looks as if the Government of the Empire was about to pass out of his feeble hands into those of the Rebels, who have upon us the claim that they profess a kind of Christianity.

[Sidenote: A birthday.]

July 20th.[5]—I know that you will not forget this day, though it can only remind you of the declining years and frequent wanderings of one who ought to be your constant protector, and always at your side. It is very sad that we should pass it apart, but I can say something comforting upon it. The Admiral and General came here yesterday, and agreed with the French authorities that the two fleets are to start for the rendezvous on the 26th. Ignatieff, the Russian, who made his appearance here to-day, said, 'After your force lands, I give you six days to finish everything.' If he says what he thinks, it is a promising view of things. Six days before we start, six days to land the troops, and six days to finish the war! Eighteen days from this, and we may be talking of peace. Alas! what resemblance will the facts bear to these anticipations?

[Sidenote: Chefoo.]
[Sidenote: Plans for landing.]

Talien-Whan.—July 21st.—Now for a word about Chefoo. I had agreed to dine with the General, Montauban, on the night of my arrival, so, after visiting Gros, I went to his headquarters. I found him in a very well-built, commodious Chinese house. I must tell you that, as we were entering the bay, we descried a steamer a-head of us, and it turned out to be a vessel sent by the French to examine the spot (south of the Peiho Forts), which had been selected for the place of their debarkation when the attack comes off. On the evening of our dinner, the General did not enter into particulars, but gave me to understand that the result of the exploration had been very unsatisfactory, and that his scheme for landing was altogether upset. I heard this with considerable dismay, as I feared that it might be employed as a reason for delay. Before we parted that night, I agreed to land next morning, to see his artillery, &c. He read me the unfavourable report of his exploring party, which was headed by Colonel Schmid, a great friend of the Emperor's, and the best man (so they say) they have got here. He contends that all along the line of coast there is a band of hard sand, at a considerable distance from low-water mark; that the water upon it is very shallow; and that, beyond, there is an interval of soft mud, over which cannon, &c., could not be carried. The French are no doubt very much behind us in their preparations, but then it is fair to say that they have not spent a tenth part of the money, and with their small resources they have done a good deal. It was wonderful how their little wild Japanese ponies had been trained in a few days to draw their guns. After the review we took a ride to the top of a hill, from whence we had a very fine prospect. It is a much more fertile district than this, beautifully cultivated, and the houses better than I have seen anywhere else in China. The people seemed very comfortable, and their relations with the French are satisfactory, as we may infer from the abundant supplies brought to market. On the following morning the English Admiral and General arrived. They had their interview with the French authorities, and settled that on the 26th the fleets should sail from Talien-Whan and Chefoo respectively to the rendezvous, somewhere opposite Taku. From that point the Admirals and Generals are to proceed on a further exploration, and to effect a disembarkation on the earliest possible day. So the matter stands for the present. The state of Europe is very awkward, and an additional reason for finishing this affair.[6] For if Russia and France unite against us, not only will they have a pretty large force here, but they will get news viâ Russia sooner than we do, which may be inconvenient.

July 22nd, Sunday.—The thirteenth since we parted. It seems like as many months or years. Some one said to-day at breakfast that it is the last quiet one we are likely to have for a while. In one sense I hope this may turn out to be true…. To-morrow our cavalry and artillery are to be embarked. This takes place on the other side of this bay, and I intend to go over to see the operation.

July 26th.—Noon.—I am now starting (having witnessed the departure of the fleet) for the scene of action in the Gulf of Pecheli. The sight of this forenoon has been a very striking one, just enough breeze to enable the vessels to spread their sails. We have about 180 miles to go to the point of rendezvous…. Meanwhile, one has as usual one's crop of small troubles. The servants threatened to strike yesterday, but they were soon brought to reason.

[Sidenote: The rendezvous.]
[Sidenote: Jesuit letters.]

July 27th.—Ten A.M.—We have reached our destination after a most smooth passage, during which we have followed close in the wake of the Admiral…. I am reading the 'Lettres édifiantes et curieuses,' which are the reports of the Jesuit missionaries who were established in China at the commencement of the last century. They are very interesting, and the writers seem to have been good and zealous people. At the same time one cannot help being struck by their puerility on many points. The doctrine of baptismal regeneration pushed to its extreme logical conclusions, as it is by them, leads to rather strange practical consequences. Starting from the principle that all unbaptized children are certainly eternally lost, and all baptized (if they die immediately) as certainly saved, they naturally infer that they do more for the kingdom of heaven by baptizing dying children than by any other work of conversion in which they can be engaged. The sums which they expend in sending people about the streets, to administer this sacrament to all the moribund children they can find; the arts which they employ to perform this office secretly on children in this state whom they are asked to treat medically; and the glee with which they record the success of their tricks, are certainly remarkable. From some passages I infer that, in the Roman Catholic view of the case, the rite of baptism may be administered even by an unbeliever.

[Sidenote: The Pey-tang.]

Two P.M.—Hope Grant has teen on board. He tells me that the mouth of the Pey-tang is not staked, and that the 'Actaeon's' boat went three miles up the river. This river is seven or eight miles from the Peiho, and the Chinese have had a year to prepare to resist us. It appears that there is nothing to prevent the gunboats from going up that river.

July 28th—Eleven A.M.—The earlier part of last night was very hot, … and I got feverish and could not sleep. Towards morning the good luck of the leaders in this expedition came again into play; a breeze sprang up from the right quarter, so that the whole of the sailing ships have been helped marvellously on their way. When I went on deck the whole line of the French fleet—it consists almost exclusively of steamers—was coming gallantly on, Gros at the head. He is quite cutting me out this time. The farther distance was filled by our sailing transports scudding before the wind. They have been filing past us ever since, dropping into their places, which are rather difficult to find, as the Admiral has changed all his dispositions since his arrival here. The captain of the 'Actaeon' dined here yesterday. He told me he had gone a mile or two up the Pey-tang river, been allowed to land, seen the fort, which is quite open behind, and contains about a hundred men. Thirty thousand English (fleet and army) and ten thousand French ought to be a match for so far-sighted an enemy. However, I suppose we must not crow till we see what the Tartar warriors are. Three P.M.—The French Admiral has just been here. He tells me that we are to move from the anchorage to a place nearer Pey- tang on Monday, and that on Tuesday a reconnaissance in force is to be made on that place, with the intention, I presume, of taking it.

[1] Vide supra, p. 226.

[2] Colonel Crealock, military secretary to the Embassy.

[3] 'The absence of any panic was very creditable to the passengers. It, however, was mainly due to the conduct of the two Ambassadors, who, during the whole time, remained quietly seated on the poop conversing together, as if no danger 'impended.'—Personal Narrative of Occurrences during Lord Elgin's Second Embassy to China, by H.B. Loch Private Secretary.

[4] The Honourable T.J. Hovell Thurlow, attaché to the Embassy.

[5] His birthday.

[6] The reference apparently is to the uneasiness produced in Europe by the annexation of Savoy to France.