PUBLIC men sometimes direct that their papers shall not be given to the world till after a period of years dating from their death. Time tries all; and before the tribunal of a later day they await impartial judgment. But, with the years, the business of review accumulates; and, when half a century has elapsed, few but the most eminent, or the most notorious, can expect to have escaped oblivion. The brief life of the East India College of Haileybury dated from 1809 to 1857, a period of forty-eight years. Thirty-six more have gone since the gates closed on the last student who passed from between her portals. Eminence she could not in so brief a span obtain; notoriety she may have hoped to escape: on what ground are her chronicles submitted to the judgment of a later generation? The only plea can be that, like the mothers of other historic figures, she sent out into public life notable men, whose record during eighty years or more of not the least eventful periods of the history of British India, filled the annals of Leadenhall Street, and of its successor in Whitehall. They who had held the reins of empire in India throughout the troubled days of the first sixty years of this century, whose wills had moulded such great events, and whose hands had controlled issues so momentous, had all passed through the Haileybury quadrangle, and had submitted themselves to the instruction and discipline of the Company's College. Among the trivial storm and stress of student life, in the seclusion of Hailey Heath, and in the thin atmos

phere of the college lecture-rooms, somewhere, somehow, they had received that impress which they were to bear with them to their graves. The contrast between the Alma Mater and such alumni is, at first sight, astounding. Some may think that their achievements were in spite, not in consequence, of their training; some again, that their training was not at Haileybury, but in India. Others will remind us that, if among the Civil servants of the Company there were some great and many considerable men, there were also men who were good for nothing. A few may ask whether the men turned out under the open competition system which in 1855 challenged, and in 1857 extinguished Haileybury, have proved themselves as superior in ability, in character, and in resource, to their predecessors, as the Universities which they frequented, and the education which they received, were superior to the teaching of the Company's college.

Before passing to the 'Memorials,' a few words as to the place of Haileybury in the economy of the East India Company are required. If we are to try rightly to read the secret of Haileybury we must recall the days in which the college existed, and the cir cumstances of the lads who went there. The life of the East India College (including the three years during which the college was at Hertford) was from 1806 to 1857; and during that period a succession of amazing events had occurred, with extreme rapidity, under the Company's rule. Nepal had been despoiled. The Pindaris had been dispersed; the Mahrattas

broken. Lower Burmah had been annexed. Kabul, violated, had avenged herself. Sindh, the Panjab, Oudh, had successively passed under the Company's dominion. Rarely had spring succeeded spring but there came to the lads in the college some fresh tale of peoples about to be subjected, and brought within the field of their future labours. It was in these years, among these chances and changes, this tumble of kingdoms, this clash of arms, these whisperings of diplomacy, this fashioning of administration, that the Haileybury student prepared himself for his duties. To other English lads of his age the repeal of the Corn Laws, the struggle for Reform, the succession of Whig to Tory or of Tory to Whig, spelt history; to the student at Haileybury the abiding subject of interest was the expansion and the maintenance of British rule in India. And who was the Haileybury student? If not himself son or grandson of men whose praises were in all mouths, or whose registered in the most stirring pages of Indian history, he was pretty sure to be closely akin to them. Nothing that was passing in the great Indian epic could fail to be of vital interest to him. Such a one had lost a father in the retreat from Kabul. A brother had gone down before Khálsa sabres on the Sutlej. Another had been treacherously murdered, or had fallen to the knife of a fanatic. The river of Sindh, the Gangetic flood, the Persian sands, the snows of the Himalaya, the forests of Burmah, the valleys of Ceylon,-what region in India, or in adjacent lands, was not rich with the blood of Anglo-Indian families? Many a Haileybury lad had been dandled as a child in arms which had

names were

helped to bind a province to the empire, or to bring savage tribes into subjection. From lips which had dictated an equal code of law to turbulent soldiery and to the patient peasant, or for long years had shaped the decrees of the Council chamber, he may have first learned the lessons of selfreliance, and of unquestioning self-sacrifice to duty. His people were probably still in India; and month by month, week after week, letters reached him full of Indian sketches, of incidents of Indian life, the salám of some greyheaded old bearer to the Bábáhis brother's first tiger- the return of a daughter from England -a few dry blades of grass from a grave. Above all, from his earliest youth, from his cradle onwards, the name of the Indian had sounded in his ears as the name of a friend. The house in which he lived was itself frequently a museum of Indian art. The Bhundéla shield, the Mahratta lance, the Rajput's matchlock, the Ghúrka's kúkri, the coat of mail of the chivalrous Sikh, were among the trophies on the walls. The miniatures of the Táj Mehál and the Dewan-i-khas, painted by cunning hands in Delhi, were enshrined in velvet cases in the drawing - room. Krishna, azuretinted, marble limbed, played, standing on his serpents, upon the pipe for him; elephant-headed Ganesh, the grotesque, the kind, the comfortable, promised protection. Sheets of talc, with their portraiture of creamy steeds, full of fat and fire; the humped bullocks; the bedizened elephants; the swarthy whiskered faces surmounting the garments of divers brilliant colours; the clay figures of household servants-the gardener with his little basket of vegetables, the grass-cutter with his big bundle

of grass, the syce with his short fly-whisp, the khansamah with his long account, all these were of his daily life. As each fresh box arrived and was unpacked, there was diffused into the atmosphere, and there passed with the scent of English roses into his nostrils, that aroma of cinnamon, of sandal, of spice, of pepper that aroma, in a word, of the East, which, packed with Indian fabrics, is pleasant and pungent to the nose, but which, diffused among its bazaars, or mingled with the vigour of its animal life and the decay of its vegetable matter, is intolerable, undefinable, unquenchable.

From such homes, and among such occurrences and traditions, the Haileybury students came together, to compare family histories, to speculate on passing events, and to await with impatience the hour when they should be despatched to take their share in them. Their childhood and youth had been in themselves an Indian education. Haileybury was the last chapter in a training which had been formed non tam in sermone, quam in gremio. Haileybury gave them the seal of their profession,-segregating them, at seventeen, from other English youths, and setting them, not without misgivings, apart from the familiar influences, as apart from the customary occupations and well-trodden ways, which were henceforth to engage their contemporaries. The one, as a rule, looked forward to a life of law, medicine, the Church, commerce, or country pursuits; the other, only to the business of government. The degree in which the college succeeded in finally hall-marking him and in equipping him for future life, is the measure of its usefulness, and its

title to recognition. So far, and no farther, may it commend its pages to posterity. With these few words of preface, we turn to the book before us.

If the success of a book may be conjectured from the number of those who are bound to be interested in it, these 'Memorials' will have but a limited circulation. The number of old Haileybury men now alive is believed to be about three hundred and fifty. The book is divided into eight main sections. Of these, Sir Monier Monier - Williams' "Reminiscences," with their sketches of Professors of whom many were eminent in English thought, will alone appeal to a general audience. The origin of the college, its native literature, a long and rather irrelevant list of "persons belonging to the Government of India, even Miss Harriet Martineau's virginal ecstasy over the figure of Malthus, will fail to tickle the ears of the public. Mr Percy Wigram's "Lists of Students Educated at Haileybury" possess interest only for those survivors for whom the 'Memorials' were put together. To the general reader, these lists of students, occupying 251 of a total of 637 pages, will prove impossible. But the 'Memorials,' of course, are not for the general reader. This is essentially a work of a Service—and, what is much more odious in the eye of your general reader, of an Indian Service. To others may be left the ungrateful task of pointing out errors and omissions; but, if only for the sake of the reputation of Haileybury men, it is to be regretted that in these lists accuracy was not more regarded. A sheet of corrigenda has indeed been circulated, subsequently to the publication of the

Memorials,' but it is still very far from exhaustive. To many old

Haileybury men, Mr Wigram's lists will give the first intimation which has reached them since, on leaving college, they separated at the old Shoreditch station (now itself a thing of the past), of the career, and too often of the death, of many of their contemporaries and friends. It will seem to them a scroll of destiny, a roll-call. Men who were last seen in all the first vigour of manhood, dead in the prime of morning; men who fought through the livelong day, fallen when success was assured them; some promoted to great honour; many undistinguished; a few, happily but very few, deserters or removed with with ignominy. Not many years can elapse before dates still happily wanting will be filled in, and the lists may be then closed. With this, and with the removal of the last name from the pension-roll of its military officers, the final record in the archives of the East India Company will have been completed, and the vaults to which they are consigned may be then sealed up for ever.

The Mutiny Services of Civilians" may, with more confidence, be commended to the attention of such Englishmen as still care to be told how their countrymen carry themselves abroad in the day of disaster and in the hour of despair. Of 159 officers there mentioned, it would seem that thirty-two were killed in those fateful days, that six were wounded, and that ten died from the effects of exposure or sickness, forty-eight in all, or considerably more than a quarter of the number. Of five Thornhills, three perished. Two civilians gained the Victoria Cross. Herwald Wake and James Colvin at Arrah, the brothers John and James Power at Mainpúri, Spankie at Sahárunpur, M'Killop at Cawn

pur, Tucker at Fatehpur, Turnbull at Bulandshahr, Ricketts at Ludhiána - these among many are names which stand foremost in England's annals of courage and of endurance. Wherever brave deeds, a fearless carriage, or a noble death in the presence of hopeless odds find praise on the tongues of men, these names will not be forgotten. From Mr Colvin, the Lieutenant-Governor, who died because, in spite of the solemn sentence of his physicians, he would not be parted from the wreck of his charge in the sight of subordinates who with him were breasting the crisis; to young Galloway, the tale of whose heroism is briefly told in the ensuing paragraph, these all in their deaths, as others, more fortunate, in their lives, showed themselves worthy of the great traditions in which they had been cradled, the great lesson in which they had been instructed.

"Arthur Galloway," runs Mr Wigram's narrative, "was Assistant Magistrate at Delhi. On hearing of the disturbances in the city on the early morning of Monday, May 11, Galloway went to his post at the Treasury, and only quitted it for a time to procure aid from the main guard at the Treasury guard were almost in a state Kashmir gate, as the Sepoys of the of mutiny, though up to the time they had not attacked him or broken into the strong room. The officers at the gate, deserted by their men and many of them wounded, could give no assistance, and Galloway was repeatedly with them, as he could do no good by urged to remain and take his chance returning to the Treasury, and would certainly lose his life. He said he knew what the result would be, but it was his duty to stick to his post. He did so, and stood on guard at the Treasury door, armed with a sword, one solitary Englishman, among a mass of infuriatad, howling Sepoys, who soon overpowered and cut him down, resisting to the last."

In Arthur Galloway, as in all his brothers of the Civil Service, Haileybury, when her own final moment had come, at "the last visitation of the Chairman and Court of Directors," on that chill 7th of December 1857, may well have found comfort. "I am persuaded," said the Chairman, Mr Ross Mangles (whose son had gained the Victoria Cross for a splendid act of humanity and of valour), "that it is to the enlargement of the intelligence imparted, and to the stimulus given by the education they have received at this college, that those members of the Civil Service in India who have most distinguished themselves in every stage of public life may trace their character and habits of feeling. I cannot on this occasion refrain from alluding to a still higher honour which has been conferred upon that Service during the great crisis which is now taking place in India. I would speak humbly, after the words which have fallen from the lips of the Queen with regard to that Service. She has coupled them in her Royal speech with their military brethren, and they well deserve to be so united, for they have stood shoulder to shoulder with them in every scene of danger, and have shown that high civil moral courage which is a more rare and a more valuable quality than mere military virtue, and is, I trust, common to our race." Then, after passing a splendid encomium on the late Lieutenant-Governor, Mr John Colvin, "in whom the Government of India had sustained an almost irreparable loss," on Sir John Lawrence, on Sir Robert Montgomery, on Wake, on Galloway, and on others, he exclaimed, “This is the sort of stuff of which the Civil Service in India is made! I call upon you to emulate these great examples !"

With the echo of these words and of the cheers which greeted them ringing in her ears with this viaticum between her lips-Haileybury may well have departed in peace. It was a proud "Nunc Dimittis"; nor was the tumult of 1857 an incongruous requiem to the college whose career had been contemporary with such stormy and eventful times.

With the extinction of Haileybury there passed, too, from the page of Indian story the cotemporary figure of the "Qui-hye." He had derived his name more particularly from the Bengal Presidency; but he was, in truth, not of a Province, but for all India. The fire of Burke, and the Bengal fire of Sheridan, had killed the Nabob of the previous century. The trial of Warren Hastings was the trial, not of a man, but of a system. The man may have been acquitted; the system perished. Open corruption, greed without conscience, indolence without excuse, the rapacity of the Mahratta, the licentiousness of the Mogul, fled for ever from high places in the British administration of India before the thunders

com

of Burke. The eighteenth century, with the Nabobs who "were astounded at their own moderation," was dismissed. With a new century, new manners; and, simultaneously with Haileybury and with Addiscombe, the Qui - hye. In type he was one, in character multiform. He was posed of many distinct qualities, instinct with conflicting virtues. With Henry Lawrence he was magnanimous of spirit and of a high courage. With Thomason he was shrewd and penetrating. With Yule he was a mighty hunter. With Outram he was chivalrous. With Metcalfe his hospitality was unbounded. With Donald Macleod