CALCUTTA

“17th Dec.

“Arrived at Calcutta, and were met by Walter Pollen [an aide-de-camp of Lord Ripon, and a private friend of ours], who has taken capital rooms for us at 2, Russell Street. Wrote our names down at Government House, and arranged with Primrose, the private secretary, that I am to have an interview with Lord Ripon on Wednesday afternoon. Sent several letters of introduction which had been given us to Hindus of the place. There is notice of a meeting of a thousand persons held under Rangiar Naidu at Madras to protest against the Address presented to T.; I have telegraphed to congratulate him.

“18th Dec.—A very busy day, as I had to write a vast number of letters for the English mail. In the morning Norendro Nath Sen, the editor of the ‘Indian Mirror,’ called, a well-informed man. I asked him about Lord Ripon, and he said he was supporting him all he could in public, but privately he feared Lord Ripon was weak. In point of fact he had done nothing for the Indians though he had shown his sympathy and taken their part in their quarrels with the English. ‘We are thankful,’ he said, ‘for small mercies. If the Ilbert Bill had been given in its original integrity it would have been worth something. Now it is worth nothing except as the recognition of a principle. Still we are thankful.’ ‘As to the local self-government bill,’ he said, ‘people are very suspicious. There are many who looked upon it as likely to be made use of by the officials to impose heavier local rates in the people’s name than they would venture to do in their own.’ I think this very likely, as it is exactly what IsmaÏl did with his Chamber of Notables in Egypt. Increased taxation is the aim of all these despotic governments, of the Indian more than any. Nor were they satisfied with regard to the Bengal Rent Bill. I asked him about the Mohammedan community here, and he said they were very timid and time-serving. He had proposed to them to get up a demonstration on my arrival, but they had been afraid of the Government. Amir Ali, the head of the advanced party, was like an Englishman, and he and his followers played into the hands of the Government. He himself had more sympathy with Abd-el-Latif, and the old-fashioned Mohammedans who kept themselves independent, but these were afraid to express their opinions. They looked on Amir Ali as a renegade. I have, fortunately, letters to both these leaders, and one from Jemal-ed-Din to Abd-el-Latif, so I hope I shall be able to gain their confidence.

“Later Sir Jotendro Mohun Tagore called, a Hindu of rank as he has the title of Maharajah. He confirmed much of what Norendro said about Lord Ripon, and was clean against the Rent Bill, but, as he explained, he was prejudiced on this point, being himself a Zemindar. The point of the bill is to break the agreement made by Lord Cornwallis in 1793, by which the absolute ownership of the land was recognized in the Zemindars. The present tenure is briefly this: the Zemindars are the proprietors, and cannot be assessed at more than one-fifth of the gross produce of their estate. They generally let their land to middlemen or farmers, who employ the ryots or labourers, just as we do in England. The effect of the bill will be to transfer the ownership to these occupants, who will then hold them directly from the Government. At present no increasing of the assessment is announced, but the agreement made by Lord Cornwallis being once broken, it seems probable that this will follow. The Zemindars will be reduced to the ownership only of such lands as they occupy. The contention of the Government would seem to be that the land will then be better cultivated and produce more, and their fifth be proportionately increased. But Sir Jotendro is of opinion that the old system of husbandry was safer than any new system is likely to be. The land might be made to produce more by steam ploughing and high farming, but in the end the fertility would be exhausted. Here, again, precisely the same thing has happened in Egypt. He has promised, however, to put us in the way of seeing some villages here and there that we may study the question on the spot, and we are to make him a return call in a day or two.

“Last came Schomberg Kerr, Lord Ripon’s chaplain, who knew my brother and sister so well years ago. He is a very nice fellow, and not unlike his cousin, the other Schomberg Kerr.[6] But he was wary of talking politics, as befits a Jesuit and a private chaplain. I fancy he makes it a rule to confine himself strictly to spiritual advice, but I don’t know.

“19th Dec.—Seyd Amir Ali called, and we talked about Arabi. I taxed him at once with having written that letter to the ‘Times’ just before the war saying that all the Indian Mohammedans supported the action of the English Government, and he said he was sorry for it now, but the Mohammedans had been deceived as to the true state of the case. They now recognized Arabi as an honest man, fighting in defence of his religion. I noticed, however, that he looked rather confused when I charged him with this, but I think we shall get on well together in spite of the pot hat he wears. I told him that Gladstone wanted to restore Arabi, and urged him to protest against any further wars against Mohammedans, whatever the pretext might be. I told him that the only way to get attention paid to the wishes of the Mohammedan community was to inspire a certain amount of fear. By holding their tongues in a crisis like the Egyptian War, or pretending to sympathize with the Government, they threw away their advantages. I trusted that if there should be any serious talk of sending Indian troops to suppress the Mahdi he would call a general meeting of his party to protest against it. Amir Ali is a young man not much over thirty, and evidently very clever, and if he has the courage to take an independent line, may play a great part. But they say his ambition is to be made Chief Justice.

“While we were talking, arrived a dignified old man, Manockji Rustemji, the Parsi Consul-General for Persia, with his son. We talked about the Bengal Rent Bill, to which, like everybody else I have talked with, they are opposed. Sir Jamsetji Jijibhoy is staying with him, and he promises to send him to see us. I like this old man very much. He is a friend of Ragunath Rao’s, and spoke very warmly of him, saying that he was a far cleverer man than his cousin, Sir Madhava Rao, who has more celebrity but less courage. We are to call on his wife next week.

“At a quarter to three I paid my visit to Lord Ripon, feeling rather nervous about it beforehand, but I have every reason to be satisfied with the result. I had a good hour’s conversation, first about the state of the agricultural districts which I described, and afterwards about the really important business of Hyderabad. I set the whole state of the case before him, the reversal by the Peishkar and Kurshid Jah of all Sir Salar Jung’s policy; the dismissal of the skilled administrators; the consequent breakdown of the administration; the return to old practices of corruption and the rest of it; and, lastly, ‘what would seem incredible but for which I could nevertheless vouch’ that the Peishkar’s misgovernment was strongly supported at the Residency. I made no charge against Mr. Cordery, who I considered was merely the responsible person representing the several interests of the official class. But I could only explain the matter to myself by supposing that these officials feared a retrocession of Berar, and so purposely abetted the misgovernment of the State. This had been done without doubt in former years for similar reasons, and I had had sufficient experience of official ways in Egypt to make me very distrustful. Lord Ripon smiled at this and said that official ways were always a little the same everywhere, but he did not commit himself to any opinion as to whether I was correct or not. He said, however, that I must know well how great a difficulty there was in Hyderabad in finding any one competent to carry on Sir Salar Jung’s administration. He had considered Sir Salar’s death a great misfortune, though others, and he believed Lord Lytton, had thought otherwise. It was the more deplorable to himself because he had just had the satisfaction of restoring the good relations which had so long existed between Sir Salar and the Indian Government, but which had latterly been interrupted, and he had personally a high opinion of Sir Salar’s integrity and good faith. But who was there to fill his place?

“I then told him my high opinion of young Salar Jung, both as a good young man, and one with statesmanlike qualities, which only wanted practice to develop into a capacity equal, perhaps, to his father’s. He said that he was glad to hear me say this, for such had also been Sir Stewart Bailey’s opinion. But Laik Ali was very young for so responsible a position. I said that he was twenty-one, and he asked me whether that meant twenty-one according to the Mohammedan or the English reckoning. I said: ‘According to the English, as he was born in August, 1862,’ and so was very nearly as old as his father had been when he first became Prime Minister, for Sir Salar had been only twenty-four according to the Mohammedan reckoning, and, if one considered how troubled and disorganized a State Hyderabad then was and compared it with what it is now, it would be seen that Laik Ali’s position, if he were made Minister to-morrow, would be a more favourable one by a great deal than his father’s had been. Now all the machinery of government was there, and it only required to be kept going, instead of having to be created. I also begged him to see the young man himself privately when he came to Calcutta, and he said he would certainly do so, and as Laik Ali could speak English, they would not want an interpreter, and he would give him every encouragement to explain his position and ideas thoroughly. All Lord Ripon’s manner showed a thorough good will towards young Salar Jung, and I have little doubt that he will give him his support. He then asked me about the character of the Nizam, and I told him I could say nothing for certain, because he had been so silent in our interviews that I had not been able to judge, but it was my opinion that he was far from being without ideas of his own, and very likely a will of his own too. He asked me whether the people of Hyderabad wished him to be proclaimed of age this year or not till two years later, and I said it was not a case of their wishing. They all expected it to be at once, and would be grievously disappointed if it was deferred. There was a strong feeling of loyalty and affection towards the Nizam among the people, and they would resent his being kept out of his right. He also asked about Bushir-ed-Dowlah and to which faction he belonged. I said I could not answer certainly, but I believed Laik Ali considered him to be among his friends. Bushir-ed-Dowlah seemed to be without strong political colour. Lord Ripon remarked, however, that he, Bushir-ed-Dowlah, had been on bad terms with Laik Ali’s father. Of this I knew nothing.

“Then, with some apologies, I mentioned the report about the draft treaty. At this Lord Ripon laughed, and said it was the first he had heard of it. He certainly would never consent to taking any such treaty from the young Nizam. It would be a fraud, and I might dismiss it from my mind; all that might possibly be asked of him would be some limitation of his absolute power for a couple of years or so until they saw how he got on with his Government. As to a treaty concerning the Berar claim, he, Lord Ripon, was incapable of proposing it.[7] I said I was sure it was so, and would dismiss it from my mind. Lord Ripon’s manner, though reserved at first, was very cordial to me in the latter part of this conversation, and he shook hands warmly with me and said he was glad I had spoken to him on these matters, and hoped to see me again. Since my famous interview with Mr. Gladstone in March, 1882, I have not been so favourably impressed by any statesman that I have conversed with. Absit omen.

“20th Dec.—Looked in on Knight, Editor of the ‘Statesman,’ who gave me his views on the decadence of English morality, which he dates from the first Afghan war. He has been useful as exposing many of the official iniquities here, and takes, as it seems to me, generally just views. He would not, however, admit that the finances were in any danger, but looks rather to a revolution to end the present system.

“From him I went to Sir Stewart Bailey, and, as the conversation led up to it, told him something of the state of things at Hyderabad. He seemed surprised that Cordery was actually supporting the Peishkar and Kurshid Jah; said he thought he had been weak in letting things go on so far unchecked; repudiated all idea of its being done on policy; did not think that Trevor really influenced Cordery; Trevor was not nearly as clever a man, but very likely he had been too long at Hyderabad. Sir Stewart, however, spoke with great sympathy of Laik Ali, and said his was a waiting game, and it was only a matter of time his becoming Minister. We discussed his age, and he asked me, as Lord Ripon had done, whether I thought him capable of being now at the head of affairs. I said of course it was a very responsible position for a youth of twenty-one, but I believed him capable of it if really supported and rightly advised at the Residency. He was very popular in Hyderabad on his father’s account and his own, and would find no opposition except from the old Mogul nobles.

“We then discussed the north-west men. Sir Stewart does not like Seyd Huseyn Bilgrami, says his letters are flippant, but agreed with me that Salar Jung’s system, to be carried out at all, must be so through people who had received a modern education. Of Gough he spoke highly, but not of Clerk. On the whole I am satisfied with our conversation. It is evident Sir Stewart meant to have Laik Ali supported when he made the arrangement which left him co-administrator, and will do what he can for him now. At leaving he said it was a question whether it might not be better to let things go on a little longer and then interfere, or to interfere now on the Nizam’s coming of age. I said I considered they had gone quite far enough. In any case he promised to talk the whole matter over with Laik Ali, and I shall be surprised if Trevor is not removed and a change of attitude insisted on with Cordery. Talking of past affairs at Hyderabad, Bailey said that Sir Richard Meade’s alliance with the late Emir el Kebir against Sir Salar Jung had been most unfortunate, and had ‘dragged the Indian Government through a deal of mud.’ He did not wish to be quoted in this opinion, but such was the fact.

“21st Dec.—Mulvi Seyd Amir Huseyn, deputy collector and magistrate at court, a friend of Amir Ali’s, came. We discussed the Bengal Rent Bill, and he told me he had been one of the original supporters of a scheme to relieve the ryots, and had sent in a memorandum on the subject to the Government, but now the Bill had been drafted he had changed his mind about it. He considered that it would not really relieve the ryots, and would most certainly be made a precedent for further spoliation of landlords by the Government, and eventually for increased assessments. The breach of faith with the Zemindars was glaring, and it was not proposed to compensate them in any way. [I remember Lytton complaining to me at Simla in 1879 of the Bengal Land Settlement as an injustice to Indian Finance, and saying that it would be necessary to break it.] With regard to the condition of the Bengali Mohammedans, the Mulvi explained that they were an oppressed community, the Hindus having it all their own way, and there was very little courage among them, though the antiquated Mohammedans and Hindus lived on excellent terms. They dared not take any prominent part against the Government. He himself was a magistrate and deputy collector, but he had five English superiors, one above the other over him from the Collector to the Lieutenant-Governor, who, on the complaint of any one of them, would be down on him if he expressed his opinions. I told him India needed martyrs, and until they learned to have the courage of their convictions nothing would be done for them; reforms were only granted to the importunate, and on compulsion.

“Next came Kristo Das Pal, a member of the Legislative Council, and editor of the ‘Hindu Patriot.’ He is looked up to as the most prudent, yet independent of the Bengali Hindus, and I found him sensible, and with a very accurate knowledge of the forces with which he had to deal, both here and in England. He, too, opposed the Rent Bill, on the ground that it is not a bona fide measure of relief to the ryot, but the thin end of the revenue wedge which grudges the comparative immunity of Bengal from rack-renting. ‘If they were in earnest,’ he said, ‘they would first relieve their own ryots, who are starving in Madras and Bombay, instead of doing so out of the pockets of the Zemindars here. It was robbing Peter to pay Paul.’ The ryots of Bengal, though poor, were rich compared with those of the other two Presidencies, and needed far less relief. That this is so would seem to be proved from the fact that they do not here complain of the salt tax. They are rich enough not to feel the burden, for it is only hard upon the very poor. Talking about Lord Ripon, he said Lord Ripon had wished the Indians well, but with very little practical result, though he was the best viceroy they had ever had. He was of opinion that, before anything could be done, the Civil Service must be thrown open and reorganized. The present civilians had no sympathy with India or its people. They came and went like birds of passage. They must also have representation of some sort. At present they had none except through chance travellers like myself: I promised to do what I could to make the matter known. He asked me whether I was in Parliament and could ask questions, and I explained to him my position and promised, though I could not do it personally, to get his questions asked in proper form if he would provide me with the materials. This he agreed to do, and I gave him my address, and the necessary instructions. But the more I see and hear of the state of things in India, the more convinced I am that Gordon is right. ‘Nothing will be done without a revolution.’

“In the afternoon we called on Mr. Manockji Rustemji, and found Sir Jamsetji Jijibhoy with him. He being rich and an old man talks very freely. It is absurd to suppose that the Parsis do not sympathize with the rest of the natives. He has known every viceroy since Lord William Bentinck, and likes Canning the best. Canning stood up bravely after the mutiny, and prevented innocent blood being shed. The English wanted martial law proclaimed in Calcutta, and he refused. Where it was proclaimed, any man who had a grudge could write an anonymous letter to his neighbour of a treasonable character. The letter was opened by the police, and the man to whom such might be addressed would be brought up, condemned without trial, and hanged. A good old man.

“Called also on Sir Jotendro, who lamented Mr. Gladstone’s apostasy from the principles he had proclaimed in Midlothian. He said his speech on the question of making India pay the expense of the Egyptian campaign had destroyed all confidence in him in India, and he wondered that any man should be so base. I told him that in England words said out of office bind no statesman in office, an explanation which seemed to surprise him. We afterwards talked poetry, Byron, Moore, Tennyson. He did not understand Tennyson, preferred Moore infinitely. Sir Jotendro has a handsome old-fashioned house in the centre of the town, one of the first houses, he says, that were built in Calcutta; the city had grown up round it.

“22nd Dec.—The ‘Englishman’ announces a concordat on the Ilbert Bill, which Seyd Amir Ali who called this morning declares is ten times worse than withdrawing the Bill. The English are to be tried by a jury composed in majority of their own countrymen. This will make them quite independent of the law, and he talks of getting up meetings to protest. Mr. Rustemji also called, and Mrs. Ilbert to ask condolence. She says her husband has been abandoned by every one, and now by Lord Ripon. She blames Lord Ripon for his weakness, not the people at home. Lord Kimberley had written to her husband urging him to stand firm, but the members of council were frightened out of their wits, and Lord Ripon has followed them. Her husband is broken-hearted at it all, and they are going away for a week to hide in some country district. It is all very disgraceful. I told her I could not understand any one paying a moment’s attention to the Anglo-Indians. The Viceroy should have been absolutely indifferent to them and their noise. She said ‘If you had been Viceroy, I have no doubt it would have been so,’ which I take as a compliment.

“At last Mulvi Abd-el-Latif, the head of the older-fashioned Mohammedans, has called. I had a letter for him from Sheykh Jemal-ed-Din, but I feared he would not come. He is a judge, and much occupied or would have called before. I found him all, and more than all I could have expected. He began by telling me people were afraid here of coming to see me, partly because I was looked ill on by the Government, partly because they knew I was taking notes on all I saw or heard, and they were not sure but what I might compromise them, or compromise their cause by telling too much. He knew, however, that I had the Mohammedan cause at heart, for he had heard from Sheykh Jemal-ed-Din what I had done, and he thought it best to tell me all frankly, and put me on my guard. Also it would explain to me why the Mohammedans had not come forward to welcome me. He then sketched the position of the two parties among the Mohammedans. Amir Ali and his friends had broken with the mass of the community by affecting English dress and ways, and posing as reformers, although they were in no way qualified in a religious sense for such a position. Amir Huseyn they even considered to be an unbeliever. In any case, Amir Ali did not represent the Mussulman community in Bengal, for he was a Shiah, and they were Sunnis. He, Abd-el-Latif, was a reformer too, though working on other lines. He wished to improve the religious education of the people, and had been labouring for the last twenty years to get the Government to establish proper schools. Reform must be introduced by religious, not irreligious persons, or it would take no hold on the people. These young men were out of all sympathy with the mass of the Mohammedans. They knew nothing even of the religious language, Arabic, or Persian which was the language of good society. How could they serve as a medium between the English Government and them?

“In all this I sympathized, but discouraged him from hoping that the Government would do much to help Mohammedan education as such, for the tendency was towards merely secular education, and would hardly be reversed. I hoped, however, that they might be able to found something in the way of a University which should be within their means, a University where, as in the Azhar at Cairo, the students lived on their own resources, and merely attended lectures. He promised to introduce me to some of the Ulema to talk these matters over, but he was afraid to have the meeting at his own house. In fact, he had already arranged that it should be at that of Dr. HÖrnli, the Swiss director of the Madrasa, so that the Government should not take umbrage. We also talked about Amir Ali’s letter repudiating Arabi during the war, which Abd-el-Latif was very angry at. It did not represent their opinions. Now, with the Afghan War, he said, it was different. They had approved of that, because they looked on it as an attack on Russia, which was the greatest of all the enemies of Islam. Thus, I suppose, it had been explained to them. I told him, however, that I hoped in future the Mohammedans of India would set their faces against all wars waged against Mohammedans on whatever pretext.

“I like this man much. He is of the sort I like far better than Amir Ali and Seyd Huseyn, and yet I fear the others are more likely to succeed. They represent the future, he the past. He himself has a son who wears coats and hats and boots to his father’s great grief, but he said the son complained that in Indian dress he could not enter the Anglo-Indian houses, such are the difficulties put in the way of social intercourse. Abd-el-Latif wears eastern robes and head-dress. It appears that he did not personally know Jemal-ed-Din, for he was afraid of compromising himself with one under Government ban. ‘I refrained purposely,’ he said, ‘from asking any official about you, for I should have found it impossible to see you if they had spoken ill of you. Fortunately they have said nothing yet, at least not to me.’ This visit has been a pleasing and a valuable one.

“We dined with Dr. Johnstone the Bishop, a good specimen of his class, with more liberal views than nearly any Englishman I have talked to in India. He does not want to convert anybody or Anglicize them. He was interested in Mohammedan education, wished them to study their own language, and described a college he had seen at Lahore. I shall put him into communication with Abd-el-Latif, as he may be able to help him, having, I suppose, some interest in official quarters.

“23rd Dec.—The Nizam arrived yesterday with his suite, and I went to see Salar Jung and tell him the result of my interview with Lord Ripon. He seemed very grateful for what I have done, and I gave him some advice about his relations with the ultra liberal party among the Mohammedans here. I recommended him to conciliate Abd-el-Latif and not to be too intimate with Amir Ali, as, though Amir Ali might be right in the line he took, he, Salar Jung, would run the risk of sharing his unpopularity with old-fashioned people. If he was to be minister of a Mohammedan State, he must show himself truly a Mohammedan. Any suspicion of impiety would diminish his influence. This was a mere matter of prudence. I think he is sensible enough to see this. He is coming again this evening to talk further. I left cards on the Nizam, Peishkar, and the rest.

“In the course of the morning Seyd Nur-el-Huda, a Mohammedan from Patna, called with his friend, a Christian Brahmin. Nur-el-Huda is one of the new school, having been educated at Cambridge, but seems a good sort of fellow. The Hindu, Dr. Sandwal, or, as he writes it, ‘Sandel,’ is a doctor. He, the doctor, was born a Christian, as his father was converted many years ago, and I asked him how it affected his social position. He said it cut him off from all Hindus, and the English would not receive him either. He had studied medicine in England, hoping to get practice here on his return, but it was impossible for a native doctor to compete with the English official doctors, and though he had had the highest recommendations from Sir Ashley Eden and others, he could get no Government appointment either here or in the Mofussil on account of his race. They are both very angry at the Ilbert Bill compromise, and the doctor gave me particulars about the pressure which had been put lately on native officials respecting it. A friend of his, holding a minor post under Government, had received a ‘demi-official’ letter from his English superior, warning him that if he attended meetings in favour of the Bill he should suffer for it. This I can well believe, when I remember the pressure that was put on officials, even in England, to prevent them from subscribing to the Arabi Defence Fund last year.

“At 11 o’clock we started driving for Uttarpara, a village some eight miles up the Hugli, where we spent the afternoon most profitably with our Zemindar. He is the son of one of the greatest landholders in the district. His father’s rent roll amounts to about £50,000 a year. Of this, however, he touches but a small portion, for the real owner of two-fifths of the property is the Maharajah to whom he pays £15,000, while he pays another £15,000 in round figures to the Government for the rest. Considerable reductions on account of bad debts, and the cost of collection must again be made. Still it leaves him a very rich man as things go here. Nor has he at all neglected his duties as a landlord. He lives on his estate, and is the father of the municipality of Uttarpara. He received us in a public library he built some years ago, a handsome Palladian house, well supplied with books and newspapers. They take in the ‘Illustrated,’ ‘Saturday Review,’ and all the Calcutta newspapers; and he intends now to use the upper part of the building as a college for fifty young men. The Government has given him nothing in this matter up to now, but offers £100 a year towards the college. The father is a venerable old man, reminding me vaguely of Cardinal Newman. He is blind and very infirm—but talks with vigour. He lamented the growing ill feeling between the English and themselves, and confirmed what all old men declare, that the new class of civilian officers is inferior in every quality, except cleverness, to the old Haileybury men. With regard to the Ilbert Bill, he said it was an attempt to reform justice in the country, which greatly needed reforming. The administration of the criminal as well as the civil law was very bad. The English did not now understand the ways of the natives; and those natives, who owed their position to competition, did not inspire respect from their countrymen, being mostly chosen from the lower castes. He talked with great feeling, and evidently sincere regret for the better days which were gone.

“We then drove to some villages with the son, and put our usual series of questions. It is very evident from the answers that the Bengal ryots, at least in this district, are far better off than those of Madras. Our Zemindar estimated the cost of living for them at about three rupees a month, instead of two as at Bellari, and they eat rice and fish instead of only raghi. I have promised to attend a meeting on the 29th respecting the Rent Bill, when the whole question of the state of the peasantry will be threshed out. Next we saw a village school for boys and a genteel school for little girls, at which some of the family were learning with the rest. All this is due to the care of the landlord, and far different from anything that can be seen in the whole Madras Presidency, where the Government is the universal absentee proprietor. On the village green, when we came back from our inspection, we found an awning put up, and a meeting being held of the municipality and others—perhaps a hundred people—to protest against the Ilbert compromise. The proceedings were quite up to the level of such things in England; resolutions were passed and speeches made. Surendra Nath Banerji, a Calcutta orator, had been expected, but did not turn up. But the local speechifying was not bad, part in English, for our benefit I suppose, and part in Bengali.

“We did not get home till late.

“24th Dec.—Mail day, so stayed at home writing letters. To our great pleasure the Mulvi Sami Ullah of Aligarh (Hamid Ullah’s father) called with two of his nephews. He arrived here two days ago to see the exhibition, but will be back at Aligarh to receive us by the time we get there. We had an animated discussion about the ‘Concordat,’ the old man explaining that the proper conduct for the Mohammedans here was being debated, some being for expressing themselves satisfied, others for making common cause with the Hindus. All, however, were at heart vexed and angry at what had been done, and recognized in the Ilbert Bill a matter of common interest. He had seen Amir Ali yesterday, who had changed his mind and was now on the Government side. He wants, the Mulvi explained naÏvely, to get promotion, and that is why he supports the compromise. He himself was for a moderate attitude. I spoke my mind very plainly, and told them that, if they deserted the Hindus in this instance, they would never have any reform given or justice done them for another twenty years. They must sink their differences and their little private interests if they wanted to force the Government’s hand. The Bill was the battle-ground on which the whole principle of legislation for India was being fought; and the Mohammedans could turn the scale by their attitude one way or the other. The young men warmly applauded this, and I think, too, the Mulvi was partly convinced. I told them, if the Mohammedans only knew their power they would not be neglected and ill-treated by the Government as they now were. In England we were perpetually scared at the idea of a Mohammedan rising in India, and any word uttered by a Mohammedan was paid more attention to than that of twenty Hindus. But, if they sat still, thanking Providence for the favours which were denied them, the English public would be only too happy to leave them as they were. The Mulvi promised to make my opinion known at a Conference which had been summoned for this evening to consider the action of the Mohammedans, and so I trust I may have done some good, at least with the Liberal party. Of Abd-el-Latif I feel more doubtful, for there is great ill-feeling in Calcutta between the old-fashioned Mohammedans and the Hindus.

“They were hardly gone when another Mohammedan called, Mulvi A. M., to whom I had had a letter from Seyd Abd-el-Rahman. This is a man of the type I like best, of the school, in fact, of Jemal-ed-Din, who here, as elsewhere, laid the foundation of a liberal religious movement. He gave me a clearer account of the parties in Calcutta than I have yet received. Amir Ali and his friends have put themselves out of the pale of Mohammedan society by their English dress and ways, while Abd-el-Latif and the body of the Mulvis (Ulema) are too strictly conservative. He had been converted to the large idea of a Mohammedan reform and Mohammedan unity by Jemal-ed-Din, and there were many now of his way of thinking who held a middle position between the rival parties. I urged him too to join the Hindus in their protest against the compromise, and he said that if one of the prominent leaders would call a meeting, he could promise to bring a hundred men to it, but he was only translator to the High Court, and could not commence the movement. He then spoke with great sympathy of the work I had done in Egypt, and of my writings. He speaks good English, but in no other way affects European manners, wearing his own dress, a little white skull cap and a long frock. (Sami Ullah and his nephews wear the fez.) I like A. M. greatly, and have promised to dine with him on Thursday, and meet the men of his way of thinking. He reminds me of Rasul Yar Khan, and looks like an Arab of the South, though he assures me he is a pure Bengali, as far as he knows his genealogy. He has all the signs of breeding an Arab should have, his thumb going well beyond the forefinger joint, his complexion clear and dark and his features regular. Also he is thin and has the eager frank manner of an Arab, and the lack of reserve. He told me Jemal-ed-Din had been disappointed with the Mohammedans of Calcutta, who were afraid of listening to him on account of the Government. He had found them selfish and unpatriotic. Of Amir Ali he has a poor opinion. Abd-el-Latif he thinks timid, and the rest of the Mulvis are intensely ignorant.

“Then I called on Dr. HÖrnli, a Swiss, who showed me the Madrasa, an institution which educates eight hundred boys and young men from eight to twenty-two years old. There are five hundred English and Persian students, three hundred Arabic. They pay twelve annas a month, and most find even that too expensive. There are rooms for about sixty, who have bedsteads, chairs, and tables, while the rest board in town. He did not know what became of the students in after life. He believed the Arabic scholars became Mulvis in the country towns. There were twenty professors, at from thirty to one hundred and fifty rupees a month; the head master got three hundred. It was holiday time unfortunately, and only half a dozen boarders were left in college.

“Walter Pollen tells us the Viceroy told the Nizam at his reception that he hoped to see him soon assume the duties of his rank. This looks well.

“25th Dec., Christmas Day.—The ‘Indian Mirror’ has a leading article exhorting all classes to receive us with honour, and to show their gratitude for our sympathy with the Egyptians and with themselves. I think we have come at the right time.

“We have had three visits to-day, first from Sambhu Chandra Mukerji, formerly Minister to the Rajah of Tippara, an independent prince on the Assam frontier, a very superior Hindu, handsomely dressed in shawls and a huge shawl turban. He asked me many questions about Arabia and the Mohammedans in various parts of the world, and seemed to know their history well, as also the state of modern affairs everywhere. We discussed Mr. Gladstone’s character. He had followed his career closely from the day of his article on ‘Church and State’ downwards, and was of opinion that he had always been shifty and insincere. He had not been surprised at his repudiation of the Midlothian doctrines, nor at his conduct in Egypt. He has evidently a poor opinion of morality as an element in English statecraft, and rates our party professions exactly at their worth. How absurd it is to talk of the Hindus as intellectually inferior to ourselves—indeed as anything but far our superiors.

“Secondly, Kebir-ed-Din, the joint editor of the one Mohammedan journal published in Calcutta, a Jewish looking person with a turban and dyed beard. He said he belonged to the Amir Ali faction, but except that he talks English, he has nothing of the modern school about him. I tried to impress upon him the necessity of supporting the Hindus in the matter of the Ilbert Bill, but found him exceedingly pigheaded. He seemed quite unable to get beyond the idea that there were no Mohammedans in the Civil Service who would benefit by the Bill, or to see that the principle of legislating in native interests was at stake. I think this was as much from stupidity as ill will.

“After this we paid a round of visits, but only saw the Lyalls, who are staying at Belvidere, the Lieutenant-Governor’s official residence, a really beautiful place. I had some political sparring with Lyall, which was amusing, as he is very light in hand. Rivers Thompson, the Lieutenant-Governor, we did not see, he being seriously ill.

“Ate our Christmas dinner in absolute silence at the table d’hÔte, feeling rather ‘like Jews at a christening,’ but received an agreeable note from Mr. Ghose, the President or Secretary of the Indian National Association, recording a vote addressing us a welcome on our arrival, and a hope that our stay in Calcutta would be for the advantage of India.

“26th Dec.—A busy morning. Our earliest visitor was Mulvi A. M., with whom I talked over the whole range of Mohammedan prospects. He asked me what I thought of the ultimate fate of India, and I explained my view that it should be put on the same footing as Australia, that is to say, that each province should have its English Government, supported by English troops, but that the whole civil administration, legislation, and finance should be left to native hands; that the effect of this would be to put Northern India practically under Mohammedan, Southern India under Hindu Government, a solution which pleased him much. He said that none of the Mohammedans wished to do away altogether with English government, as it would only lead to fighting, as there was no chance of Mohammedans and Hindus agreeing for a century to come, but of course they did not like English administration. It favoured the Hindus unduly. But, left to themselves, they should be able to hold their own in all Northern India. The English policy, however, had been to suppress them, and throw obstacles in the way of their educating themselves and learning their own power. The Mulvis of Calcutta were terribly ignorant of politics, and of all that was going on in the world. At the time of the Egyptian War they had not known whether Egypt lay North or South or East or West. I am to dine with him to-morrow, to meet Jemal-ed-Din’s disciples.

“We then talked about education, and discussed the possibility of getting up a University. The difficulty, of course, is money. All the great Mohammedan landlords were ruined at the time of the Permanent Settlement, when their lands were confiscated; and the other rich men who lived on Government employment were ousted from it in 1862 by the change of the language of the Courts. Now there are hardly any rich Mohammedans in Bengal. The masses are living on daily wages, and cannot even afford the rupee a month necessary for their sons’ education. While we were talking, Nawab Mir Mohammed Ali was announced, one of the few remaining Zemindars, a little old man, very small and wizened, wearing a handsome dress, with a fine emerald in his cap. We continued our conversation, and I rather took his breath away by suggesting him as a possible contributor to the University. A more congenial subject to him was the Bengal Rent Bill, on which he was eloquent, and he invited me to attend the meeting on Saturday. Then Abd-el-Latif’s son, in European clothes, joined us, and we got on the Ilbert Bill, as to which I exhorted them all strongly to make a concordat with the Hindus, helping them this time on a promise of help from them when their own interests were at stake. The old man was rather frightened at this and went away. I had it out, however, with Abd-el-Rahman, and hope he will influence his father. Unless the Mohammedans show their teeth on an occasion of this sort, they will never get attention paid to their wrongs.

“When they had gone Salar Jung looked in to thank us for all we had done for him and for the Nizam, and I showed him the memorandum of my conversation with Lord Ripon. He also invited us on the Nizam’s part to dine with him on Sunday. It is certainly something worth doing to have upset the Cordery-Peishkar conspiracy, and got the Nizam installed; for Salar Jung tells us that Lord Ripon has announced to the Nizam that he shall come of age in February. He has also invited us to assist at the installation ceremonies at Hyderabad, which we will do if possible. Then, if Salar Jung is named Dewan, our triumph will be complete. Salar Jung has seen Stuart Bailey, and been very well received by him.

“Next came Surendra Nath Bannerji, the Hindu editor who was put in prison for questioning Judge Norman’s conduct on the bench. He is evidently a man of energy, and having been a martyr and survived it, shows more courage than most of them. He is very angry at the Ilbert Bill compromise, and let slip the gros mot of ‘revolution’ in regard to it. He was very urgent with me to get the Mohammedans to join them in protesting, and I promised to do my best this evening at Amir Ali’s dinner. It is high time certainly they should sink differences, but the Mohammedans are hard to move. Their position was well explained a little later by our last visitor this morning, Mulvi Ahmed, Municipal Councillor and an independent man. He explained that there was hardly a leading man among the Calcutta Mohammedans who had any means apart from his Government pay. Neither Amir Ali nor Abd-el-Latif could afford to come forward as a champion, as all their prospects depended on the Government. Mulvi Ahmed drew a most gloomy picture of Mohammedan prospects. They were all, he said, in despair here in Bengal. It was impossible for them to do anything, impossible to combine with the Hindus who were so selfish, they wanted every post for themselves. Out of forty-eight Municipal Councillors there were only five Mohammedans, and as more power was given to the natives the Mohammedan position would get worse and worse. It was their poverty which stood in their way. They could not pay for the education necessary to pass the competitive examinations, so they were left behind. I tried to convert him to my view of energetic action, but in vain. There was no one to take the lead, and it would result in no good.

“At last all were gone and we went to the races just in time to see Sherwood beat Euphrates, a very fine race. Sherwood, when moving, has all the appearance of an Arab, so I reverse the opinion formed of him in the stable. Euphrates is a great tall animal with a fine head; but neither he nor Sherwood are horses to breed from. They lack quality. There was a great gathering of Mohammedans in front of the race stand, and I saw Abd-el-Latif in close conversation with Kurshid Jah. The Nizam was there, looking more comfortable and at ease than I had seen him before. He was full of smiles, and even talked a little to us.

“We dined at Amir Ali’s, a dinner entirely of Mohammedans, with the single exception of a Mohammedanized Hindu, a very clever man, who had been in England, and knew everything and everybody. There were about fifteen at dinner, and we talked very freely on all matters of Mohammedan interest, and after dinner some fifty more arrived, in fact all the leading Mohammedans in Calcutta, Abd-el-Latif among them, wonderful to relate, and one of his sons—I believe he had never been inside Amir Ali’s house before—and a cousin of the King of Oude, and many learned men in turbans and every variety of dress, and strangers from Bussora and Nejd, all assembled to do us honour. So I think we may congratulate ourselves upon having made a successful visit to India. I never expected to be received so cordially, but the moment has been a favourable one. I do not find any of that blind devotion to the Sultan which Jemal-ed-Din led me to expect, but things have doubtless changed since he was here, and the weakness of Constantinople is producing its natural effect, contempt. Only for the Sultan personally, as head of the Mohammedan nation, there is of course a certain loyalty. Still, my opinions are generally approved, and that is significant.

“I had an opportunity of saying a few words to Abd-el-Latif about the attitude Mohammedans should take in this Ilbert quarrel, and he agreed with me that it might be well if they showed their teeth a little. But he is a cautious man and would promise nothing. With Amir Ali and Amir Huseyn I was able to do more, and I shall be surprised if, at the meeting of the National Mohammedan Society to-morrow, they do not take my view. I proposed that they should address a dignified and moderate protest to the Viceroy, admitting that the Ilbert Bill did not immediately affect the Mohammedan community, but taking their stand on the principle that the proposed compromise affected the rule of equality before the law. At the same time I advised Amir Ali to come to a regular concordat with the Hindus for their mutual benefit.

“The only visits we had this morning were from two Mohammedan doctors, one a surgeon of the 9th Bengal Cavalry and a native of Assam, the other a Lucknow man who had been educated at Lahore and had a grievance about which he had come from Gaya to consult me.

“We dined at Mulvi A. M.’s, an entertainment of a very different sort from last night’s. He lives in a poor little house in the old quarter of the town, and we dined in his one room with eight or nine fellow students, all looking as if they were starved, but brimful of intelligence. They were most eager to hear what we had to tell them of Arabi and the Egyptian War, and Jemal-ed-Din and our hopes for the future of Islam. They talked very freely, and did not conceal their hatred of England, and their hope that the Mahdi would drive us out of Egypt. ‘During the Egyptian War,’ they said, ‘we all looked to Arabi to restore our fortunes, for we are in a desperate state and need a deliverer.’ I told them of my hopes in Egypt, which pleased them much. They had some of them read my ‘Future of Islam,’ and the rest were waiting to read it in Hindustani. For Jemal-ed-Din they professed something like worship, and they were readers of ‘Abu Nadara’ and the ‘Bee.’ These young men had very pleasant faces, but their starved bodies were mere skeletons. They spend all their money on their education, and I fear the dinner he gave us will cost our host several months’ income. I had no notion he was so poor. Only one of them was well dressed, a very nice young man, who told us he had been at the National Mohammedan Association meeting to-day, where, though the sense of the meeting was hostile to the Ilbert compromise, no resolution was come to. Amir Ali, who presided, seems to have contented himself with a neutral attitude, but they are to have another meeting later—too late probably. The dinner reminded me a little of some of our visits to the Azhar quarter at Cairo, only I was never in so poor a house there. The food was cooked in the Indian way, and we drank water. Our host would not eat, but served us. They all had excellent manners, and though they spoke without any reserve, nothing was said which should not have been said. This visit has given me more insight into Mohammedan ideas in India than all I have yet seen and heard. It is clear that they would welcome any deliverer here, Russian or French, or from the Devil. One of them had read a poem by Victor Hugo in praise of Arabi, and argued therefrom that the French must sympathize with them. Also the Government of Chandanagore they say is a model Government.

“28th Dec.—It appears that the author of the famous ‘Concordat’ is none other than Colvin; so here I find myself once more fighting him as in Egypt. I have little doubt that he is working the English newspapers as he did two years ago at Cairo.

“Keay called in the morning, and, as he is going to speak to Lord Ripon about Hyderabad, I told him briefly of my own conversation, so as to give him a line. He is writing a full account of the Hyderabad intrigues for the ‘Statesman.’ Then Abd-el-Latif came, and we discussed his rivals, Amir Ali and Amir Huseyn, whom he calls worshippers of Nature. He asked me to attend a meeting of his society, the Anjuman i Islam, and give them my views on Mohammedan education; and I think I will do this, though it will be rather an experiment. Kurshid Jah paid us a visit, but he came with an English Secretary, and is a dull talker, so I got nothing out of him. Our short conversation was through an interpreter.

“Then, at twelve, I went to the first meeting of the National Conference, a really important occasion, as there were delegates from most of the great towns—and, as Bose in his opening speech remarked, it was the first stage towards a National Parliament. The discussion began with a scheme for sending boys to France for industrial education, but the real feature of the meeting was an attack on the Covenanted Civil Service by Surendra Nath Bannerji. His speech was quite as good a one as ever I heard in my life, and entirely fell in with my own views on the matter. The other speakers were less brilliant, though they showed fair ability, and one old fellow made a very amusing oration which was much applauded. I was asked to speak, but declined, as I don’t wish to make any public expression of opinion till my journey is over. But at Bombay I shall speak my mind. I was the only European there, and am very glad to have been present at so important an event. The proceedings would have been more shipshape if a little more arrangement had been made beforehand as to the speakers. But on the whole it went off very creditably. Both Bannerji and Bose are speakers of a high order. The meeting took place upstairs in the Albert Hall, and about one hundred persons were present. Before the speaking commenced, a national hymn was sung by a man with a strong voice, who played also on an instrument of the guitar type.

“Walter Pollen dined with us, and after dinner I went to an evening party at the India Club. This was started a year ago with the view of amalgamating Englishmen with Indians, but the bitterness of feeling is now so great that, with the exception of two or three secretaries in attendance on Indian princes, I believe I was the only Englishman present. The Catholic Archbishop, however, and Father Lafont were there, and I had some conversation with them about Cardinals Manning and Howard. Abd-el-Latif introduced me to a good many notables, the King of Oude’s brother, the Rajahs of Cutch Bahar and Tippara, and the Diwan of the Rajput Rajah of Ulwar. Tippara is a regular Chinaman in feature, and it needed no large amount of candour in him to repudiate the flattery of his courtiers when they told him he was a pure-bred Aryan. Cutch Bahar is a young man with an English education, who appears at race courses in a white hat, and is popular with the Anglo-Indians. He wore his own clothes here, but is uninteresting. The Diwan invited us to stay with him at Ulwar, and I shall certainly do so, as it will be a good opportunity of seeing a Rajput court. There were also an uncle of Nebbi-Ullah’s from Cawnpore and about two hundred other gentlemen of distinction from Calcutta and the provinces, all in their best clothes.

“29th Dec.—The only visit this morning was from Delawar Huseyn, a deputy-magistrate and a sensible man, who gave the same melancholy account of the poverty of the Mohammedans in Bengal. I fear their case is nearly hopeless. In spite of their large population, they are without influence. The mass of them are extremely poor, mere peasants, or, in the town, day labourers. They have no commercial connection, and the sons of the few rich men are obliged to look to Government employment for a living, whereas the Hindus are rich and pushing. It is a struggle for existence, in which the Mohammedans are the weakest, and so are going to the wall. In the north-west, he tells me, it is not so.

“At twelve I went to the second meeting of the Conference, at which the Civil Service was again discussed; and I made a short speech, in answer to some complimentary remarks made with regard to my presence, in which I said that I was glad to have had the opportunity of being present at these the first meetings which had a national character in India, and which prefigured the parliament which they were all doubtless looking forward to. I said that I, too, looked forward to this, and to their complete self-government. I believed all nations were fit for self-government, and few more so than the Indian, and I described the condition of Greece when it was first set to manage its own affairs, a conglomeration of robber chieftains, piratical seafarers and an absolutely uneducated peasant population. Yet, after fifty years, they had an orderly Government, with universal education, commercial prosperity, and a shipping which had driven every competitor out of the Levant. In view of such results, who should say that any nation was unfit for its own rule? This produced much cheering, and they all expressed themselves highly delighted with my sympathy. To-morrow Keay is to come to the meeting, and will speak about the rural distress.

“Then, at three, I went with Anne to another meeting, that of the Zemindars at the Town Hall. It was a public meeting, and much more numerous, but the room is badly constructed, and it was difficult to hear the speakers. They passed resolutions against the Rent Bill, being all interested in the matter. Our friends from Uttarpara were there, and Sir Jotendro, and many princes and Nawabs, and Gorst. We dined at Sir Stuart Bailey’s, Salar Jung and his brother being there, also Lyall, and Durand, the Foreign Office Secretary. We discussed the necessity of lying in politics, and I fear I made some rather uncomplimentary observations, not knowing that Durand held the position he did.

“Abd-el-Rahman, the son of Abd-el-Latif, with a brother-in-law, called, and we discussed Seyd Ahmed’s ideas of education and ideas of religion. They, of course, disapprove. Seyd Ahmed originally intended to teach everything in Urdu, but has abandoned that for English, and now the education at Aligarh is wholly English. Religion is not taught there, they say. Seyd Ahmed began as a Sunni, then adopted Wahhabism, but is now a Deist. We also discussed the idea of a university on a religious basis, which is what it ought to have, and they agreed with me that Calcutta would not be a good place on account of sectarian differences, expensive living, and the poverty of the Bengal Mohammedans. My own idea, an idea which struck me last night as I lay awake, is Hyderabad. It is central, it is cheap, and it is a seat of Mohammedan Government. Religious thought would there be free from English and Hindu interference. With this notion I called on Salar Jung, and found him delighted at the prospect, and he is sure the Nizam, too, would be delighted, and he will speak to him and let me know. He is really grateful to me for what I did for him with Lord Ripon.

“Then I went to the last meeting of the National Delegates, in which they discussed the National Fund. There was some rather spirited conversation, and I suggested to Bose, the secretary, that he should send the hat round, but he said if he did that they would never come again. However, offers of fifty and one hundred rupees began to be made, and one rich Zemindar came down for one thousand. I myself contributed one hundred, and I believe the subscription ended with a considerable sum. I then offered to give my assistance in managing their telegrams, and expounded to them the necessity of publicity as to their meetings and resolutions. I also suggested that they should raise a fund among those of their number who held official positions, as an insurance against persecution. This would give them courage. Also that they should take up especially the cause of the ryots in Madras and Bombay. That would give a wide extension to their influence. It was Arabi’s advocacy of the cause of the poor that brought all Egypt to him.

“Keay then came in and delivered an address about the cause of the ryots, which was well received. But I notice that the Conference is very provincial in its interests, as quite three parts of the delegates are Bengalis. Afterwards there was a discussion on Parliamentary government in which Bose was eloquent, and I made a second speech, giving my ideas on what might be looked forward to—first, elections to the legislative council, secondly, representation in the English Parliament, and thirdly, home Parliaments of their own in the different provinces on the Colonial system. Not many speakers joined in this discussion, which was restricted to generalities even by Bose. The proceedings terminated with votes of thanks to Keay and me—and so ended the first session of the Indian Parliament. May it be memorable in history.

“We dined with the Nizam, but I did not consider it advisable to talk to him myself about the university scheme, though I shall urge on him, through Salar Jung, to propose it to the Viceroy on the occasion of his installation. The moment would be opportune, and he could not well be refused.

“31st Dec.—This morning we had a flood of visitors whom I will name in order.

“Ferid-ed-Din Ahmed, Nebbi-Ullah’s uncle, with Akbar Huseyn, the translator of my book, the ‘Future of Islam.’ We talked a good deal about this, and I have promised to write a new short preface, in which I will say something complimentary about the Sultan—this rather to conciliate Constantinople than the people here, for, in reality, they have lost most of their respect for the Ottoman Caliphate since the Egyptian War. Ferid-ed-Din is not one of the new school, and he told me he had met the book accidentally, and had been struck by the Arabic motto on the cover. This had induced him to read it in spite of some one’s having told him that it was anti-Mohammedan. It had converted him to believe in an Arabian Caliphate, and he said it would convert others, for very few Mohammedans here know how, or why, Abd-el-Hamid claimed to be Caliph. This is very satisfactory. He then introduced some half a dozen merchants and chief persons from Allahabad, who came as a deputation to announce their intention of doing me some honour when I came to their city. We discussed the foundation of a university, to which they heartily agreed, condemning the Aligarh College as irreligious, and they said Hyderabad would be the very best place, if it was possible to get the Nizam’s patronage. On this point I reassured them, and doubted only the English Government’s conduct, and counselled them to treat the matter for a while as a secret.

“Prince Jehan Kadur, brother of the King of Oude, and Prince Suleyman Kadur, his nephew, called, a visit of compliment, but the former invited us to stay with him at Lucknow, which will be pleasant. The King of Oude lives here and keeps a menagerie, which we are to see.

“Rasbihari Mukerji from Uttarpara came to wish us good-bye, a very nice youth, grandson of the old man, and an ardent patriot of the best sort.

“Rajah Siva Prasad, with a note of introduction from Lyall. Mukerji knew him by name, and warned me that he was a friend of the English, and had been recently burned in effigy in his native town, Benares. I found him, nevertheless, a very well educated and clever man. He contended that the country was continuously increasing in prosperity, compared it with the state of things a hundred years ago, and said that within his recollection more land had been taken under cultivation. I asked him whether the ryots ate more rice than forty years ago, and he answered ‘The size of a man’s belly does not increase.’ He is a friend of the Maharajah of Benares, and invited us, on his part, to stay with the Maharajah for a week. This man has, of course, been sent by Lyall to show us that there are some natives who support the Government; but that is all fair. We will go to him at Benares, and hear what he has to say.

“Abd-el-Rahman Mazhar, of Samaria, and a Cadi of Bagdad, with a friend. They had just come via Colombo, and had seen Mahmud Sami, whom he extolled for his learning.[8] He himself had been educated in the Azhar—a dignified old man, with beautiful white teeth. He had known Mahmud Sami as a boy, and wondered why the English Government had attacked him as a rebel.

“Mohammed Ikram-Ullah, Rais of Delhi, and Mohammed Ishak Khan, of Meerut, men of position, who invited us to let them know of our arrival in their towns.

“Amir Ali, who was very anxious to explain his true position as leader of Mohammedan thought at Calcutta; but his attitude with regard to the Ilbert compromise is not that of a leader. Mohammed Ikram-Ullah has just told me he supported the compromise at the meeting they held. He wants to please the Government. We then argued the question of his hat. He defended himself by explaining that it gave him more consideration in a crowd. On railway platforms and such places men in Indian dress were hustled and pushed about by the railway servants. This is no doubt true. He appealed to Bose, who had come in, to say whether it was so, and also whether he had not supported the Indian Association on the Ilbert and other questions. Young Mukerji, who had sat on in silence, listening, said to me as he went out: ‘I am glad you told him about his hat. We all hate that.’

“These visits took us till three o’clock, and we had not even a moment to get breakfast. Then we went to the Zoological Gardens, where there are some astonishing tigers, and dined at home with Walter Pollen, thus ending the year 1883.

“I forgot to mention my conversation to-day with Bose. We discussed the probability of a revolution, and he said the danger was very great. People were losing their confidence in Lord Ripon, after having lost it in the Government at home. They still looked to English public opinion, but a spark might at any time fire the train. He asked what amount of influence men like those whose names were on the Indian Committee exercised, and I told him ‘very little.’ I was not at all sanguine of any great increase of sympathy with them from the British public, and I strongly advised the Indians to look to themselves, and themselves only, for help. We then talked over the details of an agitation. He is to organize meetings in every part of India, and telegraph constantly to me in London for publicity through the press. This is the only way, I maintain, of gaining them any real relief. They must frighten and coerce the English people into giving them their rights. I am writing strongly to Eddy Hamilton, pointing out the danger.”