alth of Nature,' which he contributed
to the 'Saturday Review' of September 24, 1859.[76] It may be considered
as a sermon upon the text of Gray's reflections in the 'Elegy' upon the
'hearts once pregnant with celestial fire' which lie forgotten in the
country churchyard. What a vast work has been done by the unknown! what
must have been the aggregate ability of those who, in less than thirty
generations, have changed the England of King Alfred into the England of
Queen Victoria! and yet how few are remembered! How many actions even,
which would be gladly remembered, are constantly forgotten? 'The Indian
Empire,' he says characteristically, 'is the most marvellous proof of
this that the world can supply. A man died not long ago who, at
twenty-five years of age, with no previous training, was set to govern a
kingdom with absolute power, and who did govern it so wisely and firmly
that he literally changed a wilderness into a fruitful land. Probably no
one who reads these lines will guess to whom they allude.' I can,
however, say that they allude to James Grant Duff (1789-1858), author of
the 'History of the Mahrattas,' and father of his friend Sir
Mountstuart. Fitzjames had visited the father in Scotland, and greatly
admired him. His early career as resident of Sattara sufficiently
corresponds to this statement. It is well, as Fitzjames maintained, that
things should be as they are. Fame generally injures a man's simplicity;
and this 'great reserve fund of ability' acts beneficially upon society
at large, and upon the few conspicuous men who are conscious of their
debt to their unknown colleagues. It would be a misfortune, therefore,
if society affected to class people according to their merits; for, as
it is, no one need be ashamed of an obscurity which proves nothing
against him. We have the satisfaction of perceiving everywhere traces of
skill and power, proving irrefragably that there are among us men 'who
ennoble nearly every walk of life, and would have ennobled any.' A
similar tone appears in the short life of his father, written in the
following year. True success in life, he says, is not measured by
general reputation. Sir James Stephen's family will be satisfied by
establishing the fact that he did his duty. It was an instance of
'prosperity' that his obscurity 'protected him, and will no doubt
effectually protect his memory against unjust censure and ignorant
praise.'

The deaths of two old friends of his fathe