The Honourable Mr. Ancram’s ideal policy toward the few score million subjects of the Queen-Empress for whose benefit he helped to legislate, was a paternalism somewhat highly tempered with the exercise of discipline. He had already accomplished appreciable things for their advantage, and he intended to accomplish more. It would be difficult to describe intelligibly all that he had done; besides, his tasks live in history. The publications of the Government of India hold them all, and something very similar may be found in the record which every retired civilian of distinction cherishes in leather, behind the glass of his bookcases in Brighton or Bournemouth. It would therefore be unnecessary as well. It was Mr. Ancram’s desire to be a conspicuous benefactor—this among Indian administrators It will be observed that Mr. Ancram’s policy was one of exalted expediency. This will be even more evident when it is understood that, in default of the opportunity of coercing the subject Aryan for his highest welfare, Mr. Ancram conciliated him. The Chief Secretary had many distinguished native friends. They Mohendra Lall Chuckerbutty was one of these inconspicuously influential friends. Mohendra Mohendra Lall Chuckerbutty sat in the room the Chief Secretary called his workshop, looking, in a pause of their conversation, at the Chief Secretary. No one familiar with that journal would have discovered in his amiable individuality the incarnation of the Bengal Free Press. On his head he wore a white turban, and on his countenance an expression of benign intelligence just tinged with uncertainty as to what to say next. His person was buttoned up to his perspiring neck in a tight black surtout, which represented his compromise with European fashions, and across its most pronounced rotundity hung a substantial gold watch-chain. From the coat downwards he fell away, so to speak, into Aryanism: the indefinite white draperies of his race were visible, and his brown hairy legs emerged from them bare. He had made progress, however, with his feet, on which he wore patent Ancram leaned back in his tilted chair, with his feet on his desk, sharpening a lead pencil. “And that’s my advice to you,” he said, with his eyes on the knife. “Well, I am grateful foritt! I am very much obliged foritt!” Mohendra paused to relieve his nerves by an amiable, somewhat inconsequent laugh. “It iss my wish offcourse to be guided as far as possible by your opinion.” Mohendra glanced deprecatingly at the matting. “But this is a sirrious grievance. And there are others who are always spikking with me and pushing me——” “No grievance was ever mended in a day or a night, or a session, Baboo. Government moves slowly. Ref—changes are made by inches, not Mohendra smiled in sad agreement, and nodded two or three times, with his head rather on one side. It was an attitude so expressive of submission that the Chief Secretary’s tone seemed unnecessarily decisive. “The article on that admirable Waterways Bill off yours I hope you recivved. I sent isspecial marked copy.” “Yes,” replied Ancram, in cordial admission: “I noticed it. Very much to the point. The writer thoroughly grasped my idea. Very grammatical too—and all that.” Mr. Ancram yawned a little. “But you’d better keep my name out of your paper, Baboo—unless you want to abuse me. I’m a modest man, you know. That leader you speak of made me blush, I assure you.” It required all Mohendra’s agility to arrive at the conclusion that if the Honourable Mr. Ancram really considered the influence of the Bengal Free Press of no importance, he would not Ancram looked at his watch. The afternoon was mellowing. If Mohendra Lall Chuckerbutty had come for the purpose of discussing His Honour the Lieutenant-Governor’s intentions towards the University Colleges, he had better begin. Mr. Ancram was aware that in so far as so joyous and auspicious an event as a visit to a Chief Secretary could be dominated by a purpose, Mohendra’s was dominated by this one; and he had been for some time reflecting upon the extent to which he would allow himself to be drawn. He was at variance with John Church’s administration—now that three months had made its direction manifest—at almost every point. He was at variance with John Church himself—that he admitted to be a matter of temperament. But Church had involved the Government of “And what do you think,” he said casually, “of our proposal to make you all pay for your Greek?” Mohendra beamed. “I think, sir, that it cannot be your proposal.” “It isn’t,” said Ancram sententiously. “If it becomes law, it will be the signal for a great disturbance. I mean, off course,” the Baboo hastened to add, “of a pacific kind. No violence, of course! Morally speaking the community is already up in arms—morally speaking! It is destructive legislation, sir; we must protest.” “I don’t blame you for that.” “Then you do not yourself approve off it?” “I think it’s a mistake. Well-intentioned, but a mistake.” “Oh, the intention, that iss good! But impracticable,” Mohendra ventured vaguely: “a bubble in the air—that is all; but the question i—iz,” he went on, “will it become law? Yesterday only I first heard offitt. Mentally I said, “Oh, His Honour intends to put it through. If you mean to do anything there’s no time to lose.” Ancram assured himself afterwards that between his duty as an administrator and his private sentiment toward his chief there could be no choice. “We will petition the Viceroy.” Ancram shook his head. “Time wasted. The Viceroy will stick to Church.” “Then we can petition the Secretary-off-State.” “That might be useful, if you get the right names.” “We will have it fought out in Parliament. Mr. Dadabhai——” “Yes,” Ancram responded with a smile, “Mr. Dadabhai——” “There will be mass meetings on the Maidan.” “Get them photographed and send them to the Illustrated London News.” “And every paper will be agitating it. The “There is one thing you must remember if the business goes to England—the converts of these colleges from which State aid is to be withdrawn.” “Christians?” Mohendra shook his head with a smile of contempt. “There are none. It iss not to change their religion that the Hindus go to college.” “Ah!” returned Ancram. “There are none? That is a pity. Otherwise you might have got them photographed too, for the illustrated papers.” “Yes. It iss a pity.” Mohendra reflected profoundly for a moment. “But I will remember what you say about the fottograff—if any can be found.” “Well, let me know how you get on. In my private capacity—in my private capacity, remember—as the friend and well-wisher of the people, I shall be interested in what you do. Of course I talk rather freely to you, Baboo, because we know each other well. I have not concealed “Oh, offcourse! my gracious goodness, yes!” Mohendra’s eyes were moist—with gratification. He was still trying to express it when he withdrew, ten minutes later, backing toward the door. Ancram shut it upon him somewhat brusquely, and sent a servant for a whisky-and-soda. It could not be said that he was in the least nervous, but he was depressed. It always depressed him to be compelled to take up an attitude which did not invite criticism from every point of view. His present attitude had one aspect in which he was compelled to see himself driving a nail into the acting Lieutenant-Governor’s political coffin. Ancram would have much preferred to see all the nails driven in without the necessity for his personal assistance. His reflections excluded Judith Church as completely as if the matter were no concern of hers. He considered her separately. The strengthening of the bond between them was a pleasure That evening, at dinner, Ancram told Philip Doyle and another man that he had been drawing Mohendra Lall Chuckerbutty on the University College question, and he was convinced that feeling was running very high. “The fellow had the cheek to boast about the row they were going to make,” said Mr. Ancram. |