Page:Calcutta Review Vol. II (Oct. - Dec. 1844).pdf/306



was no mere theorist or visionary;—he was pre-eminently a practical man. Neither was he a mere statesman, cold and calculating, who regarded the masses of mankind as so many brute forces, to be moved or checked, separated or combined, by the impulses of a vain-glorious ambition, or the dynamics of an ever-shifting political expediency;—he was in no ordinary degree a philanthropic man. Beneath a somewhat abrupt or even uncouth exterior of mannerism, apparently contracted amid his many rough experiences of human nature in some of its worst and most repulsive forms, there lay concealed a deep vein of ardent benevolence which ever sighed for a profitable outlet, and longed unceasingly for the general amelioration of the species. From the moment of his arrival in India as the Representative of British Majesty and the head of the most powerful empire in Asia, his leading and predominant maxim was, that the vast and glorious realm, temporarily subjected by an over-ruling Providence to his sway, ought to be governed for the good of the Native inhabitants—the indigenous people of the soil—and not for the promotion of class interests or the aggrandisement of foreign rulers. He was, accordingly, by constitutional temperament, cherished predilections, and carefully cultivated habits of life, a Reformer. But, like every wisely practical and philanthropic Reformer, he was singularly cautious, patient, and indefatigable in his inquiries, before the final concoction of any important measure. Hence his seemingly lethargic slowness in forming and maturing plans, his stern and summary decision in adopting them when fully matured, and