Letters and Journals of James, Eighth Earl of Elgin | Page 4

long and painful illness.
'He was always reserved about his own feelings and aspirations. Owing to the shortness of his stay at Oxford, he had to work very hard; and his friends, like Newcastle and Hamilton, were men who sought him for the soundness of his judgment, which led them to seek his advice in all matters. He always stood to them in the relation of a much older man. He had none of the frailties of youth, and, though very capable of enjoying its diversions, life with him from a very early date was "sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought." Its practical aspect to him was one of anxiety and difficulty, while his intellect was attracted to high and abstract speculation, and took little interest in the every-day routine which is sufficient occupation for ordinary minds. Like all men of original mind, he lived a life apart from his fellows.
'He looked upon the family estate rather as a trust than as an inheritance--as far more valuable than money on account of the family traditions, and the position which in our state of society is given to a family connected historically with the country. Elgin felt this deeply, and he clung to it in spite of difficulties which would have deterred a man of more purely selfish views.'
'It is melancholy to reflect,' adds Sir F. Bruce, 'how those have disappeared who could have filled up this gap in his history.' It is a reflection even more melancholy, that the loved and trusted brother, who shared so many of his labours and his aspirations, no longer lives to write that history, and to illustrate in his own person the spirit by which it was animated.
The sense of the difficulties above referred to strongly impressed his mind even before he went to Oxford, and laid the foundation of that habit of self-denial in all personal matters, which enabled him through life to retain a feeling of independence, and at the same time to give effect to the promptings of a generous nature. 'You tell me,' he writes to his father from college, 'I coin money. I uncoined your last order by putting it into the fire, having already supplied myself.'
About the middle of his Oxford career, a studentship fell vacant, which, according to the strange system then prevalent, was in the gift of Dr. Bull, one of the Canons of Christ Church. Instead of bestowing it, as was too commonly done, on grounds of private interest, Dr. Bull placed the valuable prize at the disposal of the Dean and Censors, to be conferred on the most worthy of the undergraduates. Their choice fell on James Bruce. In announcing this to a member of the Bruce family, Dr. Bull wrote: 'Dr. Smith, no less than the present college officers, assures me that there is no young man, of whatever rank, who could be more acceptable to the society, and none whose appointment as the reward of excellent deportment, diligence, and right-mindedness, would do more good among the young men.'
A letter written about this time to his father shows that the young student, with a sagacity beyond his years, discerned the germs of an evil which has since grown to a great height, and now lies at the root of some of the most troublesome questions connected with University Education.
In my own mind I confess I am much of opinion, that college is put off in general till too late;[4] and the gaining of honours therefore, becomes too severe to be useful to men who are to enter into professions. It was certainly originally intended that the degrees which require only a knowledge of the classics should be taken at an earlier age, in order to admit of a residence after they were taken, during which the student might devote himself to science or composition, and those habits of reflection by which the mind might be formed, and a practical advantage drawn from the stores of knowledge already acquired. By putting them off to so late an age, the consequence has been, that it has been necessary proportionably to increase the difficulty of their attainment, and to mix up in college examinations (which were supposed to depend upon study alone) essays in many cases of a nature that demands the most prolonged and deep reflection. The effect of this is evident. Those who, from circumstances, have neither opportunity nor leisure thus to reflect, must, in order to secure their success, acquire that kind of superficial information which may enable them to draw sufficiently plausible conclusions, upon very slight grounds; and [of] many who have this form of knowledge, most will eventually be proved (if this system is carried to an excess) to have but little of the substance of it.
He had meant to