of an intellectual and spiritual communion between India and the West.  The initial steps immediately taken by Dalhousie to carry the provisions of that despatch into execution are enumerated in the masterly Report drawn up by him on his way home in 1856, reviewing every aspect of his administration during his eight years’ tenure of office—­an administration which virtually closed, and not unworthily, perhaps the noblest period of British rule in India, when men of the intellectual and moral elevation of Bentinck and Munro and Metcalfe and Elphinstone and Thomason, and Dalhousie himself, humbly but firmly believed that in trying to found “British greatness on Indian happiness” they were carrying out the mission which it had pleased Providence to entrust to the British people.  Dalhousie’s parting hope and prayer, when he left India, broken in health but not in spirit, after eight years of intensely strenuous service, was that “in all time to come these reports from the Presidencies and provinces under our rule may form in each successive year a happy record of peace, prosperity, and progress.”  His immediate successor, Lord Canning, was moved to utter some strangely prophetic words before he left England:  “I wish for a peaceful term of office.  But I cannot forget that in the sky of India, serene as it is, a small cloud may arise, no larger than a man’s hand, but which, growing larger and larger, may at last threaten to burst and overwhelm us with ruin.”  Within less than a year the cloud arose and burst, and he had to face the outbreak of the Mutiny and see all the foundations of co-operation between Indians and British rudely shaken, which a broad and liberal policy of “peace, prosperity, and progress” seemed to have so well and truly laid.

CHAPTER V

THE MUTINY AND FIFTY YEARS AFTER

Many different causes, much more clearly apprehended to-day than at the time, contributed to provoke the great storm which burst over India in 1857.  On the surface it was a military and mainly Mahomedan insurrection, but it was far more than that.  It was a violent upheaval not so much against the political supremacy of Britain as against the whole new order of things which she was importing into India.  The greased cartridges would not have sufficed to provoke such an explosion, nor would even Mahomedans, let alone Hindus, have rallied round a phantom King of Delhi in mere revenge for the annexation of Oudh or the enforcement of the doctrine of lapse.  The cry of “Islam in danger” was quick to stir the Mahomedans, but the brains that engineered and directed the Mutiny were Hindu, and the Mutiny itself was the counter-revolution arraying in battle against the intellectual and moral as well as against the material and military forces of Western civilisation that was slowly but steadily revolutionising India, all the grievances and all the fears, all the racial and religious antagonism and bitterness aroused by