CHAPTER VII.
The Honourable Mr. Ancram’s ideal policy toward the few score millionsubjects of the Queen-Empress for whose benefit he helped to legislate,was a paternalism somewhat highly tempered with the exercise ofdiscipline. He had already accomplished appreciable things for theiradvantage, and he intended to accomplish more. It would be difficult todescribe intelligibly all that he had done; besides, his tasks live inhistory. The publications of the Government of India hold them all, andsomething very similar may be found in the record which every retiredcivilian of distinction cherishes in leather, behind the glass of hisbookcases in Brighton or Bournemouth. It would therefore be unnecessaryas well.
It was Mr. Ancram’s desire to be a conspicuous benefactor—this amongIndian administrators is a matter of business, and must not be smiled atas a weakness—and in very great part he had succeeded. The fact shouldbe remembered in connection with his expressed opinion—it has been saidthat he was not always discreet—that the relatives in the subordinateservices of troublesome natives should be sent, on provocation, to themost remote and unpleasant posts in the province. To those whounderstand the ramifications of cousinly connection in the humblerservice of the _sircar_, the detestation of exile and the claims offamily affection in Bengal, the efficacy of this idea for promotingloyalty will appear. It was Mr. Ancram’s idea, but he despaired ofgetting it adopted. Therefore he talked about it. Perhaps upon thischarge he was not so very indiscreet after all.
It will be observed that Mr. Ancram’s policy was one of exaltedexpediency. This will be even more evident when it is understood that,in default of the opportunity of coercing the subject Aryan for hishighest welfare, Mr. Ancram conciliated him. The Chief Secretary hadmany distinguished native friends. They were always trying to make himvaluable presents. When he returned the presents he did it in such a waythat the bond of their mutual regard was cemented rather thanotherwise—cemented by the tears of impulsive Bengali affection. He hadother native friends who were more influential than distinguished. Theyspoke English and wrote it, most of them. They created the thing whichis quoted in Westminster as “Indian Public Opinion.” They were in thevan of progress, and understood all the tricks for moving the wheels.The Government of India in its acknowledged capacity as brake foundthese gentlemen annoying; but Mr. Ancram, since he could not imprisonthem, offered them a measure of his sympathy. They quite understood thatit was a small measure, but there is a fascination about the friendshipof a Chief Secretary, and they often came to see him. They did not bringhim presents, however; they knew very much better than that.
Mohendra Lall Chuckerbutty was one of these inconspicuously influentialfriends. Mohendra was not a maharajah: he was only a baboo, whichstands, like “Mr.” for hardly anything at all. To say that he was agraduate of the Calcutta University is to acknowledge very little; hewas as clever before he matriculated as he was after he took his degree.But it should not be forgotten that he was the editor and proprietor ofthe _Bengal Free Press_; that was the distinction upon which, for themoment, he was insisting himself. The _Bengal Free Press_ was a voice ofthe people—a particularly aggressive and pertinacious voice. It sold fortwo pice in the bazar, and was read by University students at the rateof twenty-five to each copy. It was regularly translated for the benefitof the Amir of Afghanistan, the Khan of Kelat, and such other people aswere interested in knowing how insolent sedition could be in Bengal withsafety; and it lay on the desk of every high official in the Province.Its advertisements were very funny, and its editorial English was morefluent than veracious: but when it threw mud at the Viceroy, and calledthe Lieutenant-Governor a contemptible tyrant, and reminded the peoplethat their galls were of the yoke of the stranger, there was nomistaking the direction of its sentiment.
Mohendra Lall Chuckerbutty sat in the room the Chief Secretary calledhis workshop, looking, in a pause of their conversation, at the ChiefSecretary. No one familiar with that journal would have discovered inhis amiable individuality the incarnation of the _Bengal Free Press_. Onhis head he wore a white turban, and on his countenance an expression ofbenign intelligence just tinged with uncertainty as to what to say next.His person was buttoned up to his perspiring neck in a tight blacksurtout, which represented his compromise with European fashions, andacross its most pronounced rotundity hung a substantial goldwatch-chain. From the coat downwards he fell away, so to speak, intoAryanism: the indefinite white draperies of his race were visible, andhis brown hairy legs emerged from them bare. He had made progress,however, with his feet, on which he wore patent leather shoes, almostAmerican in their neatness, with three buttons at the sides. He satleaning forward a little, with his elbows on his knees, and his plumphands, their dimpled fingers spread apart, hanging down between them.Mohendra Lall Chuckerbutty’s attitude expressed his very genuine anxietyto make the most of his visit.
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, withhis eyes on the knife.
“Well, I am grateful foritt! I am very much ob_liged_ foritt!” Mohendrapaused to relieve his nerves by an amiable, somewhat inconsequent laugh.“It iss my wish offcourse to be guided as far as possible by youropinion.” Mohendra glanced deprecatingly at the matting. “But this is a_sir_rious grievance. And there are others who are always spikking withme 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 by ells. Ifyou are wise, you’ll be content with one inch this year and anothernext. It’s the only way.”
Mohendra smiled in sad agreement, and nodded two or three times, withhis head rather on one side. It was an attitude so expressive ofsubmission that the Chief Secretary’s tone seemed unnecessarilydecisive.
“The article on that admirable Waterways Bill off yours I hope yourecivved. I sent isspecial marked copy.”
“Yes,” replied Ancram, in cordial admission: “I noticed it. Very much tothe point. The writer thoroughly grasped my idea. Very grammaticaltoo—and all that.” Mr. Ancram yawned a little. “But you’d better keep myname out of your paper, Baboo—unless you want to abuse me. I’m a modestman, 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 ifthe Honourable Mr. Ancram really considered the influence of the _BengalFree Press_ of no importance, he would not take the trouble to say so.He arrived at it safely, though, while apparently he was only shakinghis head and respectfully enjoying Mr. Ancram’s humour, and saying, “Oh,no, no! If sometimes we blame, we must also often praise. Oh yess,certainlie. And _efery_ one says it iss a good piece off work.”
Ancram looked at his watch. The afternoon was mellowing. If MohendraLall Chuckerbutty had come for the purpose of discussing His Honour theLieutenant-Governor’s intentions towards the University Colleges, he hadbetter begin. Mr. Ancram was aware that in so far as so joyous andauspicious an event as a visit to a Chief Secretary could be dominatedby a purpose, Mohendra’s was dominated by this one; and he had been forsome time reflecting upon the extent to which he would allow himself tobe drawn. He was at variance with John Church’s administration—now thatthree months had made its direction manifest—at almost every point. Hewas at variance with John Church himself—that he admitted to be a matterof temperament. But Church had involved the Government of Bengal inblunders from which the advice of his Chief Secretary, if he had takenit, would have saved him. He had not merely ignored the advice: he hadrejected it somewhat pointedly, being a candid man and no diplomat. Ifhe had acknowledged his mistakes ever so privately, his Chief Secretarywould have taken a fine ethical pleasure in forgiving them; but theLieutenant-Governor appeared to think that where principle was concernedthe consideration of expediency was wholly superfluous, and continued todefend them instead, even after he could plainly see, in the _BengalFree Press_ and elsewhere, that they had begun
to make him unpopular.Ancram’s vanity had never troubled him till now. It had grown with hisgrowth, and strengthened with his strength, under the happiestcircumstances, and he had been as little aware of it as of his arterialsystem. John Church had made him unpleasantly conscious of it, and hewas as deeply resentful as if John Church had invested him with it. TheHonourable Mr. Ancram had never been discounted before, and that thisexperience should come to him through an official superior whom he didnot consider his equal in many points of administrative sagacity, was acircumstance that had its peculiar irritation. Mohendra LallChuckerbutty was very well aware of this; and yet he did not feelconfident in approaching the matter of His Honour and the higherculture. It was a magnificent grievance. Mohendra had it very much atheart, the _Free Press_ would have it very much at heart, and nothingwas more important than the private probing of the Chief Secretary’ssentiment regarding it; yet Mohendra hesitated. He wished very much thatthere were some tangible reason why Ancram should take sides against theLieutenant-Governor, some reason that could be expressed in rupees: thenhe would have had more confidence in hoping for an adverse criticism.But for a mere dislike, a mere personal antagonism, it would be sofoolish. Thus Mohendra vacillated, stroking his fat cheek with hisfingers, and looking at the matting. Ancram saw that his visitor wouldend by abandoning his intention, and became aware that he would preferthat this should not happen.
“And what do you think,” he said casually, “of our proposal to make youall 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. Imean, off course,” the Baboo hastened to add, “of a pa_cific_ kind. Noviolence, of course! Morally speaking the community is already up inarms—_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,” Mohendraventured vaguely: “a bubble in the air—that is all; but the questioni—iz,” he went on, “will it become law? Yesterday only I first heardoffitt. Mentally I said, ‘I will go to my noble friend and find out formyself the rights offitt!’ _Then_ I will act.”
“Oh, His Honour intends to put it through. If you mean to do anythingthere’s no time to lose.” Ancram assured himself afterwards that betweenhis duty as an administrator and his private sentiment toward his chiefthere 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 _Free Press_, the_Hindu Patriot_, the _Bengalee_—all offthem will be writing about it——”
“There is one thing you must remember if the business goes toEngland—the converts of these colleges from which State aid is to bewithdrawn.”
“Christians?” Mohendra shook his head with a smile of contempt. “Thereare none. It iss not to change their religion that the Hindus go tocollege.”
“Ah!” returned Ancram. “There are none? That is a pity. Otherwise youmight have got them photographed too, for the illustrated papers.”
“Yes. It iss a pity.”
Mohendra reflected profoundly for a moment. “But I will remember whatyou 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 thepeople, I shall be interested in what you do. Of course I talk ratherfreely to you, Baboo, because we know each other well. I have notconcealed my opinion in this matter at any time, but for all that itmustn’t be known that I have active sympathies. You understand. This isentirely confidential.”
“Oh, offcourse! my gracious goodness, yes!”
Mohendra’s eyes were moist—with gratification. He was still trying toexpress it when he withdrew, ten minutes later, backing toward the door.Ancram shut it upon him somewhat brusquely, and sent a servant for awhisky-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 upan attitude which did not invite criticism from every point of view. Hispresent attitude had one aspect in which he was compelled to see himselfdriving a nail into the acting Lieutenant-Governor’s political coffin.Ancram would have much preferred to see all the nails driven in withoutthe necessity for his personal assistance. His reflections excludedJudith Church as completely as if the matter were no concern of hers. Heconsidered her separately. The strengthening of the bond between themwas a pleasure which had detached itself from all the other interests ofhis life; he thought of it tenderly, but the tenderness was rather forhis sentimental property in her than for her in any material sense. Shestood, with the dear treasure of her sympathy, apart from the Calcuttaworld, and as far apart from John Church as from the rest.
That evening, at dinner, Ancram told Philip Doyle and another man thathe had been drawing Mohendra Lall Chuckerbutty on the University Collegequestion, and he was convinced that feeling was running very high.
“The fellow had the cheek to boast about the row they were going tomake,” said Mr. Ancram.