Letters and Journals of James, Eighth Earl of Elgin

by Earl of James Bruce Elgin

[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.