It was recognised that the “fiction of rule by a trading company” in India must now be swept away; one of the very earliest effects of the outbreak had been to open men’s eyes to the weak and sore places of that system.  In 1858 an “Act for the better Government of India” was passed, which transferred to Her Majesty all the territories formerly governed by the East India Company, and provided that all the powers it had once wielded should now be exercised in her name, and that its military and naval forces should henceforth be deemed her forces.  The new Secretary of State for India, with an assistant council of fifteen members, was entrusted with the care of Indian interests here; the Viceroy, or Governor-General, also assisted by a council, was to be supreme in India itself.  The first viceroy who represented the majesty of England to the Queen’s Indian subjects was the statesman who had safely steered us through the imminent, deadly peril of the Mutiny, and whom right feeling and sound policy alike designated as the only fit wearer of this honour.  Under the new regime race and class prejudices have softened, education is spreading swiftly, native oppression is becoming more difficult, as improved communications bring the light of day into the remoter districts of the immense peninsula.  The public mind of England has never quite relapsed into its former scornful indifference to the welfare of India; rather, that welfare has been regarded with much keener interest, and the nation has become increasingly alive to its duty with regard to that mighty dependency, now one in allegiance with ourselves.  There was much of happy omen in the reception accorded by loyal Hindoos to the Queen’s proclamation when it reached them in 1858.  While the mass of the people gladly hailed the rule of the “Empress,” by whom they believed the Company “had been hanged for great offences,” there were individuals who were intelligent enough to recognise with delight that noble character of “humanity, mercy, and justice,” which was impressed by the Queen’s own agency on the proclamation issued in her name.  We may say that the joy with which such persons accepted the new reign has been justified by events, and that the same great principles have continued to guide all Her Majesty’s own action with regard to India, and also that of her ablest representatives there.

We may not leave out of account, in reckoning the loss and gain of that tremendous year, the extraordinary examples of heroism called forth by its trials, which have made our annals richer, and have set the ideal of English nobleness higher.  The amazing achievements and the swiftly following death of the gallant Havelock did not indeed eclipse in men’s minds the equal patriotism and success of his noble fellows, but the tragic completeness of his story and the antique grandeur of his character made him specially dear to his countrymen; and the fact that he was already in his grave while the Queen and Parliament were busy in assigning to him the honours and rewards which his sixty years of life had hitherto lacked, added something like remorse to the national feeling for him.  But the heart of the people swelled high with a worthy pride as we dwelt on his name and those of the Lawrences, the Neills, the Outrams, the Campbells, and felt that all our heroes had not died with Wellington.