person.

Lord Clyde, better known as Sir Colin Campbell, was simply a soldier, but a soldier of whom any army in the world might have been proud. He was an eminent instance of what a strong will and a well balanced mind, lodged in a vigorous body, can effect without the favours of fortune. In the days of purchase, he was too poor to purchase his steps; in an age of patronage, he had no family connections to keep his name in the front. He called himself Campbell, but the social weight neither of the house of Argyll nor of the house of Breadalbane was at his back. He rose to fame simply because a large portion of his life was cast on troubled times, and because, whenever and wherever he was tried through a long life, his coolness, tenacity, and energy were never found unequal to the occasion. His father was a Highlander of humble origin of the name of M'Liver, but for family reasons he assumed his mother's name of Campbell. Sent into the army when he was hardly of an age to wield a sword, as a beardless boy he fought under Sir John Moore at Corunna; later on, he shared in and contributed to the triumph at Vittoria, and led the forlorn hope at St. Sebastian. Like most Peninsular officers, he had not the good luck to be at Waterloo, and for the best part of thirty years, undecorated and unknown, he performed the routine duties of a captain or major on the peace establishment. When the Opium War with China broke out in 1842, Colin Campbell was sent out to that country in command of the 98th Regiment; thence he was transferred to India, where he distinguished himself highly in the Sikh War, and by a well-timed charge with the 61st, on the bloody field of Chilianwallah, saved the British army from a crushing defeat. He served through the Crimean War, leading the Highland Brigade to the charge at Alma, and was afterwards entrusted with the important command of Balaclava. The readers of this history will remember how, upon the news of the death of the Commander-in-Chief in India, General Anson, reaching London, the name of but one man occurred to the Duke of Cambridge as possessed of all the qualities needed for the recovery of an empire almost falling from our grasp. Sir Colin Campbell went out, and his management of the war justified all the expectations that had been formed of him.* In 1858, he was raised to the peerage as Baron Clyde of Clydesdale, " taking his title from the river by whose banks he was born, as he had not an acre of hereditary or purchased land from which to derive his designation." In 1862, he was made a fieldmarshal. Death found him in the next year, in the early

• See Vol. VIII. p. 478.

Lord Clyde was a man of striking and commanding "His crisp grey locks still stood close and thick, curling over the head and above the wrinkled brow, and there were few external signs of the decay of nature which was, no doubt, going on within, accelerated by so many wounds, such fevers, such relentless, exacting service. When he so willed it, he could throw into his manner and conversation such a charm of simplicity and vivacity as fascir ated those over whom it was exerted, and women adrired and men were delighted with the gallant old sold er." He was strict and unsparing in the maintenance of military discipline, yet had a genuine love for the comme i soldiers, whose true interests he warmly promoted, endaring no word to be said in their disparagement, no act to be committed to their detriment.

Of Lord Lyndhurst and the Marquis of Lansdowne it has been said that the first did not understand the English people, while the second conspicuously did. Lord Lyndhurst, the son of Copley, the eminent painter, born at Boston, in the United States, before the Declaration of Independence, died at the ripe age of 90; and it was thought and said by those who underrated the resources and the resolution of the Northern States, that, as his life began before the formation of the American Union, so it did not close till he had seen the dissolution of it. After distinguishing himself at Cambridge, Lord Lyndhurst went to the bar and soon rose to eminence. He connected himself from the first with the Tory party, and, as Solicitor-General, was employed in the proceedings against Queen Caroline, in the House of Lords, on which occasion he displayed remarkable eloquence, judgment, and forbearance. He was Lord Chancellor on three different occasions when his party came into power, and conducted himself in that high office with rare ability, some of his decisions being looked upon as models of lucid reasoning and admirable diction. An upright and sagacious judge, and an available politician, he was yet deficient in the highest qualities of a statesman. That width of political sympathy which makes the true statesman zealous for the good government and prosperity of every portion of the commonwealth whose affairs he administers, however nature or circumstances may have alienated it from other portions, was not found in Lord Lyndhurst. To this deficiency must be ascribed the unfortunate expression which once fell from him in the House of Lords, when, in resisting some measure of conciliation to Ireland, he spoke of the Irish as "aliens to us in blood and in religion." The taunting and contemptuous phrase was never forgotten by those to whom it was applied, and was often quoted with damaging effect against both himself and his party.

Lord Lansdowne, who died at the advanced age of 82, was descended from Sir William Petty, one of the most fortunate of the Cromwellian grantees in the south of Ireland. An immense tract of land in the county Kerry fell to him as his portion of the spoil after the Cromwellian conquest, and is still enjoyed by his descendants. Lord Lansdowne first entered into public life as Lord

A.D. 1863.]

Henry Petty, and shrank not from the conflict with the mature experience and rhetorical skill of William Pitt, against whom he sustained the charges brought against Lord Melville for peculation, and demonstrated their truth. He was a member of the Grenville and Grey Ministry, which came into power in 1807, and went out of office with them when George III. refused to entertain their Catholic Relief Bill. He was an important and valuable member of every Liberal Ministry which held power from that time to the year 1852, generally holding the post of Lord President of the Council. All through life he was a thoroughly consistent but moderate Liberal, and it used to be said that no public man had less to fear on the score of consistency, or would come out more triumphantly from the crucial test of a recurrence to the pages of Hansard. He was a generous patron-a kind of Mæcenas-to literary men and artists. It was to him that we owed the introduction of Lord Macaulay to public life; his pleasant voice and kindly smile gave an additional charm to the large and discerning hospitality which gathered around him at Lansdowne House all that was brightest in genius and most refined in manners, without regard to differences of nationality, language, or religion.

Sir George Cornewall Lewis, a man of solid, not brilliant parts, an indefatigable student, a cautious theoriser, a prudent financier, was cut off in the prime of life, at the age of 57. In the biographical article which appeared in the Times soon after his death, it was truly said :—“Sit George Lewis was not a showy character, and especially he did not shine much in those debates from which the country at large learns to estimate the position of a minister; but his wonderful power of mastering any subject, his clear head, his sound sense, and his practical ability were fully recognised, and, spite of his slow, hesitating manner, his voice had an authority in the House of Commons which men of much more eloquence might have envied. In that assembly, the most critical in the world, no one commanded more attention when he rose to speak, and no man was more entirely trusted. A doubt might attach to the speeches of other ministers. might be supposed to be careless, that to be occasionally ill-informed, and a third to be capable of intentional ambiguity. It was certain that Sir George Lewis would always be accurate and truthful; and he more than made up for the want of brilliancy by the worth of his character and by the completeness of his work."

This one

Archbishop Whately was one of the most remarkable men of the century. It was a name not quite unknown before to English history. The "painful preacher" of Banbury, in the seventeenth century, was of the name and family of the Archbishop; and one of his uncles was that Thomas Whately, Under Secretary of State for the Colonies, whose indiscreet correspondence with Hutchinson, the Governor of Massachusetts, being purloined from his office, conveyed to Dr. Franklin, and published in America, contributed not a little to widen the breach between Great Britain and the discontented New Englanders. Whately made himself felt at Oxford rather by his remarkable powers of argu

41

ment, and the general impression of ability which he made on all who came in contact with him, than by brilliant success in the schools. He was for some years a Fellow of Oriel, under Provost Copleston. The long series of his published works commenced about this time, one of the earliest being "Historic Doubts respecting Napoleon Bonaparte," the object of which was to show, by resorting to an instance then patent and accessible to all men, the fallacy of the reasoning by which Hume endeavours to undermine the credibility of the miracles and other wonderful actions ascribed to Jesus Christ. By wit and argument, and that wealth of forcible, sometimes grotesque, illustration which he had ever at command, ho defended the cause of civil and religious liberty in the Oxford common-rooms at a period when Toryism reigned alike in the Church and in the University. He was a great reader and an ardent admirer of Adam Smith, and was occupying the chair of Political Economy at Oxford at the time when Lord Grey, desirous of sending to Dublin a 'Liberal successor to Archbishop Maghee, who should assist in introducing into Ireland the system of National Education which it had been resolved to establish there, pitched upon the eccentric Oxford professor as the likeliest man for his purpose. The result fully justified the choice. From 1832, for more than twenty years, Whately's presence in Dublin, through the cordial relations which he opened with Archbishop Murray, his Roman Catholic compeer, through his support of the measure for reducing the number of Irish bishoprics, through the firm and kindly spirit in which he ruled his clergy-above all, through the zeal with which he threw himself into the work of defending and extending the system of National Education, was a tower of strength to the English Government. But soon after the appointment of Dr. Cullen in the place of Archbishop Murray there ensued a change. Gradually it became apparent that Whately's object in acting on and supporting the National Board had not been simply political, as was generally supposed; that is, that he had not been actuated simply by the desire of establishing harmony between the two confessions, and giving to the Irish the best secular education attainable, without ulterior views. His conversations with Mr. Senior, published since his death, show that Whately had also theological and religious objects— that he believed that the general use in the schools of a form of religious instruction, confined to those tenets and mysteries which both religions held in common, would ultimately tend to the detriment of what he deemed to be a corrupted and superstitious system, and to the spread of Protestantism, which he regarded as the simpler and purer faith.. No blame whatever attaches to Whately for this arrière pensée; he would have been a less sincere, less thorough, we may boldly say a less devout man, had it been otherwise-had he acted in the whole business merely as a politician. But, on the other hand, it may be argued that no blame could attach to Archbishop Cullen on his side, if, agreeing with Whately up to a certain point as to the possible ultimate results of common religious instruction, he set his face against it like a flint, and procured the expulsion from the list of National

system since that time, though in outward form remaining much the same as at first, has become, in fact and in tendency, increasingly denominational. From the time of his resignation till his death Whately continued to govern his diocese, and to superintend the extensive province which was subject to his visitation since the suppression of the Archbishoprie of Cashel, with the same generosity, justice, and ability by which his episcopal rule had been always characterised. He gave away large sums every year to relieve the necessities of distressed clergymen and their families, doing this with the utmost secrecy

In his later years he used to say, "I have given away forty thousand pounds since I came to the see, but, thank God! I never gave a penny to a beggar." A note on the word person," in his "Essay on Logic," caused him to be charged with Sabellianism; and it may be admitted that the apparent symmetry and rationality of that heresy had some attractions for his intellect; but it is certain that he never deliberately departed, in this direction, from the orthodox doctrine. On the doctrine of the Atone ment he was much less in sympathy with the teaching of the Thirty-nine Articles; his mind seemed incapable

of admitting the idea of vicarious suffering. His powers of talk were something marvellous; from his lips thero flowed a constant stream of racy, original, strictly consecutive discourse, which, though not made beautiful with imagery, was lighted up perpetually by apt similitudes. and novel illustrations. His mind seemed to be never at rest; whether he was working in his garden, or taking his daily ride, or driving to some meeting of high officials, his intellect was continually revolving some subject which for the moment engaged his attention, turning it over and over, comparing it with other subjects, or portions of truth which he had already analysed, noting the points of resemblance and difference, deducing inferences, theoretical and practical, raising difficulties and resolving them. The only defect that could be alleged against his manner of conversation was that it was a little too didactic; he loved monologue, but did not shine in dialogue; it was more like a professor lecturing his pupils than a philosopher comparing his stock of thoughts with that of other philosophers; and the consequence of all this was that Whately failed to appreciate, and did scant justice to, whatever, whether old or new, lay outside of his own track of thought. Yet who ever knew him intimately, without feeling that, in spite of bluntness, oddity, and occasional roughness, in spite of the intellectual defect which made him prefer Crabbe to Wordsworth, it was unspeakably good to be in his company? Who did not feel that he was in the ennobling and elevating presence of a truly good and truly great man?

The English squadron in Japan, under Admiral Kuper, was under the necessity, this year, of resorting to measures of coercion against one of the Daimios, or half independent princes, of Japan, which involved the loss of many lives. The Prince of Satsuma was the ruler of a large and fertile territory in Kiusiu, the southernmost of the islands of Japan, and it was at a place within his jurisdiction that an Englishman, Mr. Richardson, was murdered, and a murderous assault committed on an English lady and two gentlemen who were riding with him, in September, 1862. The English Government, when the news of this outrage was received, directed Colonel Neale, our chargé d'affaires in Japan, to demand ample compensation for the murder, both from the Tycoon, the "temporal sovereign of Japan, and from the Prince of Satsuma. The former was required to pay the sum of £100,000 as an indemnity, the latter £25,000. After much parleying, the Tycoon agreed to pay the sum demanded, which was accordingly brought to Yokohama, in June, 1863, and counted out in the presence of Colonel Neale. The Japanese officials who had charge of the money tried hard to induce Colonel Neale to receive it quietly and unostentatiously, and under cover of night; but the Colonel, well versed in the Asiatic character, refused to receive the indemnity except amid circumstances of the greatest publicity. This was accordingly done; but the ingenious Japanese revenged themselves a few days afterwards, when a large party of our sailors, accompanied by their band and some mountain guns, marched through the town and drew up in front of the Japanese Governor's house. This imposing

visit to the Governor, said the cunning natives, is for the express purpose of acknowledging the condescension of the Japanese Government in paying the compensation money!

But the Prince of Satsuma could in no way be brought to reason. His envoys, at a later period, represented on his behalf that it was no doubt very wrong to murder men, and that murderers ought to be brought to justice; but that the fault lay with the Tycoon, in not having told the English, though he had a treaty with them, that the Japanese law allowed no one to cross the path of a Daimio during a procession without being cut down. This plea was, of course, disregarded, and when the indemnity continued to be withheld, it was resolved to employ force, and the matter was placed in the hands of Admiral Kuper, commanding at Yokohama. Sailing thence with a squadron, consisting, besides his own ship, the Euryalus, of the Pearl, Coquette, Argo, Perseus, Racehorse, and Havoc, Admiral Kuper made Cape Chichakoff, the extreme southern point of the Japanese Islands, on the 11th August. Thence he steered for Kagosima Bay, the waters of which had scarcely ever before been ploughed by an European keel. Kagosima is the capital of the Prince of Satsuma's dominions, and a town of about 40,000 inhabitants. Boats came off from the town, by which Colonel Neale sent back a despatch to the Prince, demanding the payment of the indemnity, and allowing him twenty-four hours for a reply. In the interval, some officers of the fleet discovered three valuable steamers belonging to the Prince, lying in a secluded cove higher up the bay. The twentyfour hours having expired without a satisfactory answer having been received, Colonel Neale requested the Admiral to proceed to such measures of coercion as might be best calculated to awaken the Prince's mind to a sense of the serious nature of the resolves which had brought the British squadron to Kagosima. Admiral Kuper then sent a portion of his force to take possession of the three steamers, which were surrendered without resistance. They were to be held by way of reprisals, until the Prince should have paid the indemnity money. This was on the morning of the 15th August. About noon, as the vessels lay in line, anchored, with springs on their cables, at a distance of about 1,200 yards from the shore batteries, suddenly the whole of these batteries opened fire upon the Euryalus, the only ship within range. Just at this time the wind, which had been gradually growing stronger, with every symptom of heavy weather, rose to something like a hurricane or typhoon, and burst upon the squadron. Unable to bring the Euryalus broadside properly to bear while at anchor, the Admiral (who had fortunately before signalled all the ships to get up steam) signalled to the steamers that had charge of the prizes to set them on fire, and for the whole squadron to weigh and form line of battle. Taking the lead, the Euryalus steamed slowly past the batteries, engaging them with great effect; the other vessels, following in her wake, did the same. The batteries for a time kept up a heavy fire, in the heat of which Captain Josling and Commander Wilmot were killed by the same shot,