[Sidenote: Rural population.][Sidenote: Town population.]
What 1 have seen leads me to think that the rural population of China is, generally speaking, well-doing and contented. I worked very hard, though with only indifferent success, to obtain from them accurate information respecting the extent of their holdings, the nature of their tenure, the taxation which they have to pay, and other kindred matters. I arrived at the conclusion that, for the most part, they hold their lands, which are of very limited extent, in full property from the Crown, subject to certain annual charges of no very exorbitant amount; and that these advantages, improved by assiduous industry, supply abundantly their simple wants, whether in respect of food or clothing. In the streets of cities in China some deplorable objects are to be met with, as must always be the case where mendicity is a legalised institution; but I am inclined to think that the rigour with which the duties of relationship are enforced, operates as a powerful check on pauperism. A few days ago a lady here informed me that her nurse had bought a little girl from a mother who had a surplus of this description of commodity on hand. I asked why she had done so, and was told that the little girl's husband, when she married, would be bound to support the adopting mother. By the judicious investment of a dollar in this timely purchase, the worthy woman thus secured for herself a provision for old age, and a security, which she probably appreciates yet more highly, for decent burial when she dies.
[Sidenote: Manufactures.]
My general impression is, that British manufacturers will have to exert themselves to the utmost if they intend to supplant, to any considerable extent, in the native market, the fabrics produced in their leisure hours, and at intervals of rest from agricultural labour, by this industrious, frugal, and sober population. It is a pleasing but pernicious fallacy to imagine, that the influence of an intriguing mandarin is to be presumed whenever a buyer shows a preference for native over foreign calico.
In returning to Shaughae, Lord Elgin had hoped to find the objects of his mission so far secured, that there would be nothing to prevent, his sailing for England at once: but nearly two more months elapsed before he was able to turn his back on the Celestial Empire.
Shanghae.—January 17th.—The 'Furious' and 'Cruiser' arrived here safely on the 10th…. I have just accomplished the Herculean task of looking over a two-months' supply of newspapers, and this occupation, interlarded with a certain number of letters and visits to and from the Imperial Commissioners, and, to-day, an address from the British community of Shanghae, has pretty fully occupied my time.[3] The home mail is due to-day, and 1 am anxiously waiting to learn from it what the Government intends to do about relieving me…. I trust that your many disappointments as to my return may have been somewhat relieved by the conviction that I am following the right course. This opening up of the East is not a light matter…. The comet was most magnificent here. Did I ever mention it in my letters? During the whole period of its visit in this quarter it had night after night a clear blue cloudless sky, spangled with stars innumerable, to disport itself in…. Canton is coming round to tranquillity as fast as we ever had any right to expect; but the absurd thing is that these funny people at Hong-Kong are beginning to praise me!
[Sidenote: Troubles at Canton.]
January 20th.—I had hardly written the words 'Canton is coming round to tranquillity.' when I heard that there had been fighting there again. It is a good thing in my opinion, as it will enable us to demonstrate our superiority to the Braves, if the General and Admiral improve the opportunity properly; not by a great deal of slaughter, that is quite unnecessary, but by promptitude, and striking a blow at the right moment. The Chinese do not care much about being killed, but they hate being frightened, and the knowledge of this idiosyncrasy of theirs is the key of the position. I have just written a letter to my friends the Imperial Commissioners here, which will, I think, shake their nerves considerably, and bring them to a manageable frame of mind.
In fact, when he found that Governor-General Hwang had not been recalled, nor the Committee of Gentry suppressed, and that the Canton Braves were still making war upon our troops, he felt that the Chinese were trying to evade the performance of their promises, and that there was nothing for it but to 'appeal again to 'that ignoble passion of fear which was unhappily the oneprimum mobileof human action in China.'[4] Accordingly he wrote to the Imperial Commissioners that, as the Emperor did not carry out what they undertook, he would have nothing more to say to them on the subject; that the English soldiers and sailors would take the Braves into their own hands; and that he or his successor would in a month or two have an opportunity of ascertaining at Pekin itself whether or not the Emperor was abetting the persons who were creating disturbances in the South.
The journal continues, under date of January 20:—
[Sidenote: Town of Shanghae.]
Yesterday I took a walk through the town of Shanghae with a missionary who is a very goodcicerone. We went into a good manyateliersof silversmiths, ribbon-makers, tobacco-manufacturers, carvers in wood, and the like. The Chinese are skilful manipulators, but they are singularly uninventive. Nothing can be more rude than their labour- saving processes. We visited also a foundling establishment. There was a drawer at the entrance in which the infants are deposited, as is, I believe, the case at Paris. The children seem tolerably cared for, but there were not many in the house. The greater portion are given out to nurse. We went also into a large inn or lodging-house, frequented by a respectable class of visitors—silk merchants, &c. The rooms seemed comfortable, quite as good as the accommodation provided for commercial travellers at an English inn. A good many books seemed to form part of the luggage of the occupant of each room that we entered. It is curious that I should have been engaged in so many enterprises of rather an out-of-the-way character since I have been out here. I confess that in my own opinion the voyage up the Yangtze is not the least important one.
January 22nd.—Mail arrived. Frederick's appointment[5] is very satisfactory, and I am sure it is the best the Government could have made for the public interest. It is a great comfort to me to know that he will wind up what I cannot finish.
[Sidenote: Return to Hong-Kong.]
Shanghae.—January 25th.—After full consideration I have resolved to go at once to Hong-Kong, and take the Canton difficulty in hand. A variety of circumstances lead me to the conclusion that the Court of Pekin is about to play us false. Ho, the Governor-General of the Two Kiang; the Tautai of this port; and the Treasurer of the district, all well-disposed to foreigners, have been gradually removed from the councils of the Commissioners. Some papers which we have seized also indicate that the Emperor is by no means reconciled to some of the most important concessions obtained in the Treaties. This row at Canton is therefore very opportune. I have taken a high tone, informed the Commissioners that I am off to the South to punish disturbers of the peace there, and that when I have taught them to respect treaties, I (or my successor) will return to settle matters still pending here, pacifically or otherwise as the Emperor may prefer. It is to be hoped that this language will bring them to their senses, or rather bring the Court to its senses, for I do not suppose that the Commissioners are so much to blame. I had already asked all the society here to a party this evening, so it will be a farewell entertainment, and I shall embark as soon as it is over.
[Sidenote: Pirate-hunting.]
At Sea, near Hong-Kong.—Tuesday, February 1st.—Two war-steamers and a gunboat have just passed us on some expedition after pirates. It may be all right, but I fear we do some horrible injustices in this pirate-hunting. The system of giving our sailors a direct interest in captures is certainly a barbarous one, and the parent of much evil; though perhaps it may be difficult to devise a remedy. The result, however, is, that not only are seizures often made which ought not to be made at all, but also duties are neglected which do not bring grist to the mill. B. once said to me, in talking of the difficulty of exercising a police over even English vessels which carry coolies to foreign ports:—'Men-of-war have orders to seize vessels breaking the law; but as they are not prizes, and the captain if he seizes them wrongfully is liable to an action for damages, how can you expect them to act?'
[Sidenote: March into the interior.]
February 11th.—I ought to tell you that on the 8th, a body of troops about 1,000 strong started on an expedition into the interior, which was to take three days. I accompanied or rather preceded them on the first day's march, about twelve miles from Canton. We rode through a very pretty country, passing by the village of Sheksing, where there was a fight a fortnight ago. The people were very respectful, and apparently not alarmed by our visit. At the place where the troops were to encamp for the night, a cattle fair was in progress, and our arrival did not seem to interrupt the proceedings.
February 13th.—The military expedition into the country was entirely successful. The troops were received everywhere as friends. Considering what has been of yore the state of feeling in this province towards us, I think this almost the most remarkable thing which has happened since I came here. Would it have happened if I had given way to those who wished me to carry fire and sword through all the country villages? Or if I had gone home, and left the winding-up of these affairs in the hands of others?… I say all this because I am anxious that you should appreciate the motives which have made me prolong my stay in this quarter.
On the 15th he started, intending to join General Straubenzee in an expedition up the West River; but finding that his presence would be of no use, and might be an embarrassment, he resolved instead to spend the time in visiting the port of Hainan, the southernmost port opened by the new Treaty. Unfortunately, when he arrived off Hainan, a wind blowing on shore, and very imperfect charts, prevented his entering the port; but on his way he had an opportunity of revisiting one of the few places on the coast possessing any historical interest, namely Macao, the residence of Camoëns; and also of touching at St. John, the scene of the labours and death of Francis Xavier.
[Sidenote: Macao.]
February 11th.—We reached Macao yesterday morning. I visited the garden of Camoëns, and wandered among the narrow up-and-down streets, which with the churches and convents, and air of quietvétusté, remind one of a town on the continent of Europe.
[Sidenote: St. John.]
February 20th.—Sunday.—We have just anchored in a quiet harbour, on the island of St. John, or Sancian, as Huc calls it; the first place in China where the Portuguese settled. Here, too, St. Francis Xavier died. I should land and look at his tomb if I thought it was in this part of the island, but it is late (5 P.M.), and a long way to pull.
On returning to Hong-Kong he found that his letter to the ChineseGovernment had had the effect which he desired and anticipated.
[Sidenote: Mission completed.]
Hong-Kong.—February 23rd.—I have good news from the North. As I was walking on the deck this morning at 8 A.M., Mr. Lay suddenly made his appearance. He had come by the mail-packet from Shanghae, with a letter from the Imperial Commissioners, announcing that the seal of Imperial Commission had been taken from Hwang, the Governor-General of this province, and given to Ho, the Governor-General of the provinces in which Shanghae is situated. Lay further states that his friend the Tautai informed him that they are prepared to receive the new Ambassador peacefully at Pekin, when he goes to exchange ratifications. If so, I think that I shall be able to return with the conviction that the objects of my mission have been accomplished.
The details of his Treaty having been now definitively arranged, Canton pacified, and its neighbourhood overawed by the peaceful progress through it of a military expedition, there remained nothing to detain him in the East.[6]
[Sidenote: Homeward bound.][Sidenote: Hong-Kong factory.]
Canton River.—March 3rd.—I am really and truly off on my way to England, though I can hardly believe that it is so. The last mail brought me not a word either from Frederick or about his plans; only, what was very satisfactory, the approval of the Government of my arrangement respecting the residence of the British Minister in China. I have, however, determined to start, and to take my chance of meeting him somewhereen route. Unless I were to go back to Shanghae, I could not do much more here now; and if I put off, I shall have the monsoon against me, and great heat in the Red Sea. Having resolved on this course, I invited the Hong-Kong merchants to come up with me to Canton, to look at the several factory sites. In their usual way they have been dictating the choice of a site to me, abusing me for not fixing upon it; and I found out that very few of them had even taken the trouble of looking at the ground. In short I found that, in my short visits, I had seen a great deal more of the sites than they had done, who live constantly on the spot, and are personally interested in the matter. I started from Hong-Kong yesterday morning, and to-day I went over the ground with them. The rain poured, and I got a good wetting…. As I was starting from the town in a gunboat to rejoin my ship, I met the military and naval expedition, which has been absent for more than two weeks, returning. I had not time to communicate with the officers, but they seemed in good spirits. It is a curious wind-up of this most eventful mission, that as I am starting from China, I should meet an Anglo-French force returning from a pacific invasion into the very heart of the province of Kwan-tung!—thepépinièreof the Canton Braves, of whom we have heard so much.
March 4th.—Eleven A.M.—I have been calculating that if Frederick does not leave England till the mail of the 25th of February, I may, by pushing on, catch him at Galle. This would be a great point. I must push on and take my chance.
[Sidenote: Pulo Sapata.]
March 8th.—We are passing Pulo Sapata, a bald, solitary rock, standing in the midst of the China Sea, the resort of seafowl, as is indicated by its guano-like appearance. There it stands day after day, and year after year, affronting the scorching beams of this tropical sun. All ships pass by it between Singapore and China. So I am looking at it for the fourth time—the last time, we may hope. We have made fully 200 miles a day—a great deal for this ship.
March 10th.—We are now very near the Line, and the breeze has nearly failed us; so you may imagine we are not very cool, but we hope to reach Singapore to-morrow. These Tropics are very charming when they do not broil one; and I passed a pleasant hour last night on the top of the paddle-box, with a balmy air floating over my face from the one side, a crescent moon playing hide-and-seek behind a cloud on the other, and right above me a legion of bright stars, shining through the atmosphere as if they could pierce one with their glance.
March 11th.—We have passed the Horsburgh lighthouse, and entered the Straits. Wooded banks on either side, diversified by hillocks, and a ship or two, give some animation to the scene. It is very hot, and I have been on the paddle-box getting what air I can, and watching a black wall of cloud covered with fleecy masses, which rests on the bank to our right, and seems half inclined to sweep over us with one of those refreshing pelts of which we had a succession last night. It is this habit of showers which renders the vicinity of the Line more bearable than the summer heat of other parts within the Tropics. However, the cloud sticks to the shore, so I have come down to write this line to you.
[Sidenote: Singapore.]
Singapore.—Sunday, March 13th, Seven A.M.—This place looks wonderfully green and luxuriant after China. The variety of costumes and colours too, Malay, Indian, Chinese, &c., and the pretty villas perched on each hillock among flowering trees, give it a festival air. Heavy showers of rain also keep the temperature down…. 3.30 P.M.—I went to church and embarked immediately after; and here we are, about ten miles from Singapore, going well through a calm sea, with a slight breeze rather against us. Twenty months ago I left this place at about the same hour with poor Peel for Calcutta.
March 21st.—Six A.M.—I have been an hour on deck watching the great bright stars eclipse themselves, and the sun break through the clouds right astern of us. It is a lovely day, and we are a little bent over by a breeze from the shore of Ceylon, along which we are now running.Noon.—Just anchored at Galle, after a run of about 270 miles in twenty-four hours…. We are surrounded by curious boats about two feet wide, prevented from capsizing byoutriggers—beams of woodfloatingon the water on one side of them, and attached to them by poles of about eight feet in length. I believe these boats are wonderfully fast and safe.
[Sidenote: Ceylon.]
Colombo.—Sunday, March 27th.—We came yesterday to this place. A drive of seventy-two miles through an almost uninterrupted grove of cocoa-nut trees, interspersed with bread-fruit, jack-fruit, and other foliage, with occasional gleams of theGloriosa superba. The music of the ocean waves hissing and thundering on the shore accompanied us all our journey. The road was good and the coach tolerable, so it was pleasant enough. To-day the heat is very great; hardly bearable at church. All Sir H. Ward's family are on the hill—Newra Elyia—some 6,000 feet above the sea; this being the hottest season in Ceylon. My writing is not very good, for I cannot sit still for the heat. I am walking about the room in very light attire, taking up my pen from time to time to indite a few words.
H.M.S. 'Furious.'—At Sea, April 9th.—Will this letter be delivered to you by the post or by the writer in person?Chi sa?… You will like to have a complete record of my experiences during my long absence. I am now again at sea, and I cannot say how this fact rejoices me. I was tired of Ceylon; and my longing to get home increases as the prospect of my doing so becomes more real. I was ill, too, at Ceylon. The heat was very great; and I was, I fear, somewhat imprudent. On the day after I despatched my last letter to you from Colombo, I started for Kandy, a pretty little countrytown seated in the centre of a circle of hills. I reached it at 5 P.M., time enough to walk about the very beautiful grounds of the 'Pavilion,' the Governor's residence. Next day, after seeing the shrine which contains the famous tooth of Buddha, I set off for the mountains, and reached a coffee estate of Baron Delmar's at about 6 P.M. We found ourselves in a fine cool climate, at about 3,000 feet above the sea. That night, however, I felt a shiver as I went to bed. I had a bad headache next morning, and when I arrived at Newra Elyia, the famous sanatarium, 6,000 feet above the sea, I was obliged to go to bed, and send for the doctor. I could not remain quiet, however, as the packet from England might be at Galle on the 3rd; so I had to hurry down on Friday from the mountain to Kandy and Colombo, where I arrived on Saturday evening more dead than alive. Sir H. Ward's doctor declared me to be labouring under an attack of jungle fever…. I sent for the 'Furious,' which conveyed me from Colombo to Galle on Monday the 4th. Frederick did not arrive till the 6th; so all ended well. It was an unspeakable comfort to me to meet Frederick at last We had a day to talk over our affairs, as he did not proceed till the afternoon of the 7th…. I am pleased with Ceylon, notwithstanding my mishaps. For a tropical climate it is healthy and bearable; but we happened to be there at the very hottest season. At Newra Elyia it is really cold, and, at the height of the coffee estates, very tolerable to vegetate in.
The rapid homeward journey along a beaten route offered little of interest to write about, especially as he was likely to be the bearer of his own letter. On the 19th of May he reported to the Foreign Office his arrival in London.
[1] The text of the Article respecting opium is as follows:—'Opium will henceforth, pay thirty taels per picul import duty. The importer will sell it only at the port. It will be carried into the interior by Chinese only, and only as Chinese property; the Foreign trader will not be allowed to accompany it. The provisions of Article IX. of the Treaty of Tientsin, by which British subjects are authorised to proceed into the interior with passports to trade, will not extend to it, nor will those of Article XXVIII. of the same Treaty, by which the transit-dues are regulated; the transit-dues on it will be arranged as the Chinese Government see fit; nor, in future revisions of the Tariff, is the rule of revision to be applied to opium as to other goods.'
[2] In an official despatch he describes it as 'a solitary rock of about 300 feet in height, picturesquely clothed with natural timber and ruined temples, around which are to be seen, at all hours of the day, groups of bonzes, in their grey and yellow robes, devoutly lounging, and conscientiously devoting themselves to the duty of doing absolutely nothing.'
[3] His reply to the Merchants' address contained the following passage: 'Allow me to express the satisfaction which it gives me to find that you specify the benefits that are likely to accrue to the inhabitants of these countries themselves, as among the most important of the results to be expected from our recent treaties with China and Japan. On this head we have no doubt incurred very weighty responsibilities. Uninvited, and by methods not always of the gentlest, we have broken down the barriers behind which these ancient nations sought to conceal from the world without the mysteries, perhaps also, in the case of China at least, the raps and rottenness of their waning civilisations. Neither our own consciences nor the judgment of mankind will acquit us if, when we are asked to what use we have turned our opportunities, we can only say that we have filled our pockets from among the ruins which we have found or made.'
[4] Despatch of Jan. 22, 1859.
[5] As Minister at the Court of Pekin.
[6] In a parting letter he pointed out to the Admiral how desirable it was that the ambassador who went to Pekin to exchange the ratifications of the Treaty should be supported by an imposing force, and suggested that with this view a sufficient fleet of gunboats should be concentrated at once at Shanghae.
[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 properamende; 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 forthcomingBlackwood, 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 byBetts 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 myentouragethat 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 thetable d'hoteat 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 anddébris, 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 verysympathiqueinquirer 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; theIdyllsover 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 theIdylls,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.
May19_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, May21_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 werehove tautor 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. Therendezvousof 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.