A Nation in Making/Chapter 30

​30

The Reforms and the Growth of Extremism

The most stirring event in 1917 was the announcement made by Mr. Montagu in the House of Commons promising the grant of responsible government, to be rcalized by progressive stages. The announcement roused mixed feelings—hope in those who had not altogether lost faith in British pledges and promises; doubts and misgivings among the wavering; and incredulity among the sceptical. It was followed by a declaration, dramatic in its character, and bewildering in its novelty. Mr. Montagu announced that he would visit India, accompanied by a deputation, to consult Indian leaders and ascertain Indian public opinion. There could now be no suspicion as to his earnestness, or his personal sincerity. It was a memorable departure from the old official ways, and even the sceptics began to feel that here was a Secretary of State who had other qualifications than mere speech-making, and that some real work was intended. The pages of Anglo-Indian history were strewn with the fragments of broken promises (disjecta membra), but perhaps a new chapter was now to be opened.

Mr. Montagu came out to India with his Deputation in November, and began a thorough investigation of the problems involved. He visited many parts of the country and examined witnesses, Indian as well as European. The witnesses were examined in batches of two or three, and were subjected to severe cross-examination. Mr. Montagu was a past master in the art. I had to go through the ordeal along with Mr. R. N. Mudholkar of the Central Provinces, who was my companion in the examination. Later on, I had a further conversation with Mr. Montagu, when the idea of a diarchy had been developed. Mr. Lionel Curtis was, I believe, the originator of this idea. He came out to India about this time and held several conferences. I attended some of them, including one ​at Darjeeling at which some Extremist leaders, including Mr. C. R. Das, were present. Non-Co-operation had not then come into existence, and the atmosphere was serene. So far as I can remember, no serious objection was raised to diarchy or the placing of some of the departments under popular ministers responsible to the Legislative Council. Mr. Curtis was a firm believer in diarchy as a halfway house to full responsible government. He spoke with the fervid faith of an apostle. Of him, it could be truly said that he came and saw and conquered. He had conferences with the representatives of the European community, who at the outset had grave misgivings with regard to the whole scheme. Their idea was—and it found expression in the newspapers at the time—that the Government should begin by perfecting the system of Local Self- government, and should then tackle the wider question of responsible government. In the course of the discussions that they held with Mr. Curtis and others (Lord Sinha being one) they modified their views; and, when they did so, let it be said to their credit, they never wavered or faltered and stuck to them with the tenacity characteristic of Englishmen. And now among the best friends of the Reforms are the non-official European community, who recognize the destiny that awaits India, namely, that she must through progressive stages become an equal partner of the British Commonwealth. In the Bengal Legislative Council, the European members usually acted with the Moderates, and their relations with the representatives of the Moderate party were friendly and even cordial. I remember that only in one matter was there a serious difference between them and their Hindu colleagues, and that was in regard to the question of communal representation in the Calcutta Corporation. They were in favour of such representation for the European community. They naturally looked at the matter from their own point of view. The European community had a separate electorate for themselves, to ensure proper and adequate representation of their interests, and they necessarily thought that what was good for them was equally good for the Mohamedan community, overlooking the fact that their case stood apart from that of the Mohamedans; that the Hindus and Mohamedans were bound to form, sooner or later, a united nationality, and that the communal system was a hindrance to the development of Indian nationhood.

In the meantime a storm was brewing that was destined to cause a serious split in the ranks of Indian politicians. On July 8, 1918, ​the Montagu-Chelmsford Report was published. It was the signal of war. There was an angry outcry from the Extremist organs. Even Mrs. Besant, who now takes the view of the Moderate party in regard to the Scheme, denounced it in her own eloquent and emphatic style. 'The scheme is unworthy to be offered by England or to be accepted by India'—so thundered forth Mrs. Besant in her organ, New India, on the very day the Scheme was published. Curiously enough, on the selfsame day a manifesto issued by fifteen gentlemen of Madras condemned the Scheme in terms equally emphatic. 'It is so radically wrong', said they, alike in principle and in detail that it is impossible to modify or improve it.' The late Mr. Tilak said the same thing in his simple and straightforward fashion. 'The Montagu Scheme' observed Mr. Tilak, 'is entirely unacceptable.'

In the midst of all this excitement and ferment, a special session of the Congress was called to consider the Report, and we who did not profess the same extreme views had to decide what we should do. Should we attend the Congress or not? We decided to abstain. We felt that these hasty and extreme views would dominate the deliberations of the Congress, and that we should not lend them the weight of our support by our presence. We accordingly held a conference of the Moderate party in Bombay on November 1, 1918. I was elected President. It was the first of the Moderate Conferences, which are now held from year to year. Some of our friends, the Rt. Hon. Mr. Shastri and the Hon. Sir Narasingha Sarma among others, continued to attend the Congress, in the hope of making their influence felt. But it was a vain hope. The Congress has become more Extremist than ever, and they have since dis- continued their attendance. We have parted company—it is difficult to say for how long.

The schism indeed did not take place without a strenuous attempt on our part to arrive at a compromise. Our divisions have been the fruitful source of our weakness, and we tried to prevent a fresh one. Fully three weeks before the meeting of the Congress I wired to the Joint Secretary and to Mrs. Besant, asking them to postpone the Special Session of the Congress for a short time, for an inter- change of views which might help to bring about an understanding. The request was not complied with, and at the last moment, just twenty-four hours before the sitting of the Congress, when a final effort was made, it was far too late—the psychological moment had passed by.

​Our decision to abstain from the Congress was, as events have shown, a wise one, and I claim that we of the Moderate party saved the scheme. The combination against it was formidable. The European Associations in India, now so earnest for the success of the Reforms, were severe in their criticisms; Lord Sydenham condemned it in the Press and from his place in the House of Lords, strangely enough quoting Mr. Tilak in support of his views. The Manchester Guardian complained that the Indian Extremists were playing into the hands of Lord Sydenham and his party. In the midst of this formidable body of opposition, the only real and consistent support came from the Moderate party in India. If they had remained within the Congress fold, they would have been overwhelmed, their voice would have been that of a minority of little or no account. The British democracy would have said, in view of the practically unanimous opposition offered to the Scheme: Well, if you don't want it, let us drop it altogether.' And, there being no other scheme to take its place, the prospects of responsible government would thus have been indefinitely postponed. Our difficulties were aggravated by the non-committal attitude of the British Government, whose Indian policy would necessarily be largely inspired by Lord Curzon, who was then a member of the Cabinet. Our anxieties were deepened by the proposal to appoint a Joint Committee of both Houses to deal with the recommendations of the Bill before its introduction. At such a time and amid these accumulating difficulties a decisive policy in support of the scheme was called for, if it was to be saved from wreckage; and the Moderate party re- solved upon such a policy, even though separation from the Congress would be necessary. It was a heavy price to pay, but it had to be paid if the prospect of the speedy inauguration of the beginnings of responsible government were to be realized. We counted the cost and we made up our minds to incur it. To many of us, and to me in a special sense, separation from the Congress was a painful wrench. We had contributed to build up the great National Institution with our life-blood. We had raised it up from infancy to adolescence, from adolescence to maturity, and now, in full view of the crowning reward of our lifelong labours, we found the sacred temple of national unity swayed by divided counsels, resounding with the voice of conflict and controversy, and divorced from the healing accents of moderation and prudence. We could not but secede; for the difference between those who had captured the machinery of the Congress and ourselves was fundamental, and ​that upon a matter equally fundamental, namely, the question of self-government for India. The Congress, however great an organization, was after all a means to an end. That end was self-government. We decided to sacrifice the means for the end. That was the raison d'être of the Moderate or Liberal party as a separate entity in the public life of India.

This was the parting of the ways, Extremists and Moderates following their line of work, with something of the bitter reminiscences familiar to the members of a Hindu joint family broken up under the pressure of internecine strife. The Extremists were the loudest in their denunciations of the Moderates, who in this as in other matters did not forget the cardinal principle of their creed—moderation in all things. The Moderates were classed by their political opponents as allies of the bureaucracy, and bracketed with them in their denunciations; nor were their meetings safe from invasion. Noisy demonstrations and rowdyism were often the features of meetings called by them, to discuss public questions in which there were differences of opinion between them and the Extremists. At these demonstrations non-violent Non-Co-operation often developed into pugilistic encounters, in which the rattle of sticks harmonized musically with the shouts that were raised and the blows that were dealt. Never in the whole course of my public life, now extending over nearly half a century, have I in our public meetings witnessed scenes so disgraceful as those which have met my eyes in the course of the last four or five years. The words 'traitor' and 'shame' have become familiar terms in the vocabulary of the Swarajist wing of Non-Co-operation, which seeks to secure its triumph by soul-force. There was more of brute-force than soul-force in all these exhibitions; and what is most regrettable is that the young are dragged into these questionable proceedings with all their attendant demoralization. The ancient spirit of tolerance that has been the heritage of our people has disappeared, and practices have been encouraged that are disastrous to the best interests of the youth of the province.

However that may be, let us not forget that Extremism is of recent origin in Bengal. Our fathers, the firstfruits of English education, were violently pro-British. They could see no flaw in the civilization or the culture of the West. They were charmed by its novelty and its strangeness. The enfranchisement of the individual, the substitution of the right of private judgment in place of traditional authority, the exaltation of duty over custom, all came with ​the force and suddenness of a revelation to an Oriental people who knew no more binding obligation than the mandate of immemorial usage and of venerable tradition. The story is told in a biography, the authority of which has not been challenged, of one of the most brilliant representatives of early English culture in Bengal, the late Rev. Krishna Mohan Banerjee, throwing the refuse of a meal of forbidden food, on which he had fed himself, into the house of a neighbouring Brahmin. Everything English was good—even the drinking of brandy was a virtue; everything not English was to be viewed with suspicion. It was obvious that this was a passing phase of the youthful mind of Bengal; and that this temperament had concealed in it the seeds of its own decay and eventual extinction. In due time came the reaction, and with a sudden rush. And from the adoration of all things .Western, we are now in the whirlpool of a movement that would recall us back to our ancient civilization, and our time-honoured ways and customs, untempered by the impact of the ages that have rolled by and the forces of modern life, now so supremely operative in shaping the destinies of mankind. Will this movement succeed? I have grave doubts; for such a movement is against the eternal verities of things and that divine law of progress which the Unseen Hand of an Invisible Power has inscribed on every page of human history. But, whether the movement succeeds or not, the reaction against pro-British tendencies was partly the creation of the British Government itself, for no British Government can be wholly un-British in its traditions. In India, it has given pledges and promises, generous and beneficent, and has founded institutions with great potentialities of self-rule. In 1833, the Charter Act removed all disqualifications as regards the eligibility of Indians to high office. But the Charter Act remained practically a dead letter. In 1858, the Queen's Proclamation made merit the sole test of qualification. Here again the pledges and promises made remained substantially unredeemed. Local Self-government was conceded in 1882; but the restrictions imposed, about which Lord Morley as Secretary of State complained, largely nullified the boon. Then came Lord Curzon and his unpopular measures, the Official Secrets Act, the Universities Act, and, last but not least, the Partition of Bengal. All these created a strong revulsion of feeling. The methods of government followed in the new province intensified the growing sentiment and the culminating point was reached by the dispersal of the Barisal Conference in 1906. If I were asked to point to a single occasion as ​marking the genesis of modern Extremism in Bengal with its further developments, I should say it was the chapter of events that took place at Barisal in 1906, in connexion with the break-up of the Bengal Provincial Conference. There was then an upheaval among the leading men of Bengal assembled at Barisal, the like of which I have not witnessed. Even a man like Mr. Bhupendra Nath Basu, lately a member of the Executive Council, a public man so sedate and calculating, used language which neither he nor I would care to repeat. It was a time of intense excitement; and our faith in the efficacy of constitutional agitation was shaken. If that was the temper of tried politicians, the attitude of the younger generation, who mustered strong at Barisal, may be inagined. This was in 1906. The Alipore Conspiracy Case was discovered in 1908. I returned home from Barisal full of indignation, with my unshakable optimism sensibly impaired; and one of the first things that I did was to sever what remained of my connexion with the Government. For the moment, I became a Non-Co-operator, one of the earliest apostles of that cult, and resigned my office as Presidency Magistrate of Calcutta and Honorary Magistrate of Barrackpore. The resignations were a protest against the action of the Barisal authorities, and did not represent my acceptance of a definite policy or principle. I did the same thing when in 1899 I resigned my office as a Municipal Commissioner of Calcutta along with twenty-seven members of the Corporation. There are occasions when we must ' non-co-operate' and follow it up as a protest. But I altogether repudiate a persistent policy of non-co-operation, especially at a time when the Government is prepared to move along progressive lines, though the pace may not be as rapid as we should like it to be.

It was in an atmosphere of extreme views that the Reforms came under discussion. I gave notice of a resolution to be moved by me in the Imperial Legislative Council, where Moderate opinion would have fair play and would strengthen the cause of the Reforms. I was not disappointed. It was a full-dress debate with the Viceroy in the chair. The case for the Reforms was argued from every possible point of view. The support accorded to the Resolution was gratifying. The whole House with two exceptions voted in favour of it. Let me here set forth the terms of the Resolution:

The Resolution was, as will be seen, divided into two parts and was separately put. In regard to both parts, there were only two dissentients. Mr. Patel, now a prominent member of the Non-Co- operation party, was one of the two members who voted against the first part. He did not think that the Reform proposals represented a definite advance towards the progressive realization of responsible government. In regard to the second part, two European members, namely, Mr. Hogg of the Bombay Chamber of Commerce and Mr. Ironside of the Bengal Chamber of Commerce, recorded their votes against it, though they were present at our Committee meetings and helped us with their advice. Their attitude was due to the absence of any instruction from the Chambers they represented. The European Chambers, as I have stated, are now in full sympathy with the Reforms, and in the Councils their representatives actively co-operate for its success. In connexion with this Resolution I should like here to quote a passage from my speech, which explains my attitude and that of the Moderate party in regard to the Reforms:

I can only say this, that the speech was well received by the House and was appreciated by the Viceroy. The same evening at about 5 p.m. I was asked by a telephonic message to see the Viceroy. I was asleep at the time. When I got up and was informed about the message, I started for Viceregal Lodge. I had a long interview with His Excellency. He was surprised to find that I had been asleep so late in the afternoon, and he added in very kindly tones, 'You must have felt tired after your great effort. It is surprising that you should be sleeping at such an hour.' I said in reply, 'I can sleep whenever I like, and that is one of the secrets of my good health.' He said, 'Mr. Banerjea, that is Napoleonic.' We discussed the day's debate in the Council, and His Excellency thought that I should be the Chairman of the Committee, as I had moved for its constitution.

One of the charges brought against the Moderate party, and especially against myself, by a section of the Press, is that in public life I am no longer what I used to be, and that I have changed my colours. To change one's opinions in the light of new conditions is neither a crime nor a sin. Consistency is not always a virtue. It may sometimes mean persistency in error; and a progressive mind must from time to time reconsider old ideas in the light of altered circumstances. In my case I claim that I have never changed in fundamentals; but that, as regards details, I have shifted my ground according to varying conditions. For me, the goal has always remained the same; the essential condition for reaching it has also remained unchanged, but there have been variations as regards minor points of detail. With me the goal has always been Self-government within the Empire; the method for its attainment has been constitutional agitation. In view of the announcement of the 20th of August 1917, I had to consider whether the path now ​to be pursued should be co-operation with the Government, or non-co-operation, opposing and fighting the Government. In the first years of my public life, it was all opposition—strenuous, persistent and unremitting. But when at last the Government showed signs of an advance to meet the popular demand, and took definite measures towards that end, my opposition gave place to a readiness for co-operation. Our ends being the same and our co-operation being invited for building up the fabric of responsible government, should not opposition, I asked, give place to co-operation, willing and active co-operation for the great end which we had in common? It is not we who have changed; there has been a fundamental change in the policy and the aims and aspirations of the Government. We welcomed it; we modified our attitude towards the Government, and we co-operated with it for the attainment of Self-government. To oppose where we should co-operate would be the height of unpatriotism; it would be something worse, it would be treason against the motherland. This is strong language, but it is the only language that rightly describes the situation. There were indeed those who regarded the Reforms as a sham and a delusion, who thought that they were a huge fraud sprung upon a credulous and unwary public. We quite concede that they were entitled to use every means they considered legitimate to oppose them, though they were not entitled to abuse us for holding a different view. Recognizing that the Reforms represented a definite advance towards responsible government, to have opposed them would have been a betrayal of our principles and a neglect of our duty to the country. We were, however, under no delusion. We accepted the Reforms for what they were worth. We knew their limitations. But in the existing circumstances it seemed to us that the best thing we could do was to work them, to qualify for more, and to press for more. Here was an opportunity for peaceful, orderly and progressive realization of responsible government. What alternative was there? None that we could think of. We had to accept this evolutionary movement, culminating, in due time, in full-fledged responsible government, or follow the dubious paths of a revolutionary programme, with its endless risks and uncertain triumphs. A revolutionary movement had indeed been tried in Bengal, backed by men whose selfless devotion to the country could not be called in question; and it failed; and the principal actors in that unhappy episode, recognizing their failure, have for the most part settled down as peaceful citizens, bowing to the inevitable. In modern times, revolutionary ​movements have only been successful with the aid of trained and organized armies. Where is the army to assist the Indian revolu- tionary? And even when revolutions have succeeded, they have left behind them a trail of blood, and the memories of ruin and devastation, which have taken generations to efface and to repair. Revolution, said the great Edmund Burke, is the last resort of the thinking and the good. Evolution has been the motto of the Con- gress since its birth; and the old leaders of the Congress advocated the progressive realization of Self-government, which is the out- standing principle of the message of August 20, 1917. So far back as the year 1902, speaking as President of the Ahmedabad Con- gress, I observed:

Mr. Gokhale, presiding at the Benares Congress in 1905, spoke in the same strain. 'For better or for worse' said he, 'our destinies are now linked with those of England, and what the Congress fully recognizes is that whatever advance we seek must be within the Empire itself. That advance, however, can only be gradual.'

The claim of the Moderate party, therefore, is that we are the legitimate successors of the founders and the early builders of the Congress, and that we uphold the ancient traditions of that great institution. It is those who have departed from these traditions that have really introduced a violent change, but we remain rooted to our ancient principles, which have brought us in sight of full responsible government and the fruition of the dreams of the early founders of the Congress.

The Committee appointed by the Legislative Council addressed themselves to their work with businesslike thoroughness. I was elected Chairman of the Committee and the Rt. Hon. Mr. Shastri its Secretary. In due time we submitted our report. Into its details I need not enter. The Scheme, although a genuine and a definite advance, did not come up to our expectations. Especially was this the case in regard to one point: no responsibility in the Central ​Government was provided, and we urged it with unequivocal emphasis in our report, as we did in our evidence before the Joint Committee and in all our representations. The concession has not yet been made. There is no reason why it should be deferred. If diarchy is practicable and possible in the province, it should be tried in the Central Government with the exclusion of such departments as the Army and the Indian States.

The Montagu-Chelmsford Report recommended the appointment of two committees, subsequently known as the Franchise Committee and the Functions Committee. The Franchise Committee was to determine the franchise, the electorates, and the numerical strength of the Councils, the proportion of Hindu and Mohamedan representatives in them, and other cognate matters. The Functions Committee was to make recommendations regarding the departments that were to be 'reserved' and those that were to be 'transferred. I was appointed a member of the Franchise Committee. The Committee consisted of six members—three Europeans and three Indians, exclusive of the Chairman. The three Indian members were the Rt. Hon. Mr. Shastri, Mr. Aftab Mohamed, member of the India Council, and myself. The European members were Sir Frank Sly, Sir Malcolm Hailey and Sir Malcolm Hogg. The Committee was thus, within a small compass, representative of all interests, European and Indian, official and non-official. Its personnel, representing divergent and sometimes conflicting interests and points of view, would, one might expect, operate as a bar to the harmony of its proceedings and the unanimity of its decisions. But, as we set to work and proceeded with the business before us, our difficulties grew fewer and fewer until there was hardly a question which did not admit of a solution assented to by all. Here and there points of difference cropped up; but harmony and general unanimity were the predominant features of our deliberations. This result was largely due to Lord Southborough, and the general spirit of 'give and take' that prevailed. Lord Southborough was an ideal chairman, broad-minded, sympathetic, and with an inborn courtesy that disarmed all opposition. I well remember the marvellous resourcefulness he displayed when, after a prolonged debate upon some knotty and controversial point, he would come forward with a form of words, reconciling the different views and solving the situation. I sometimes thought he would make an excellent Viceroy. But that was not to be. He did not keep good health in India, and at one of our meetings at Lahore ​he dropped senseless from his chair and had to be carried home. In my difficulties I would sometimes see him and obtain valuable help and advice. When I was in England, I met him occasionally, and he always spoke of India in terms of affection for our people and of sympathy for our aspirations.

Ours was a peripatetic committee. We visited the headquarters of the different provinces, examined witnesses, and consulted the local Governments. Everywhere we were received with open arms. There was no talk of boycotting us or refusing to give evidence or furnish information. Especially was the advice of the local Govern- ments most helpful, and everywhere we had the opportunity of personal discussion with the heads of Governments and Councillors and Secretaries. The two Governments that we found the least sympathetic were those of Madras and the Punjab. The Madras Government was very unwilling to have a general electorate—it was to be communal throughout. The Punjab Government would have only a small number of members for the Legislative Council, and would not have the broad franchise recommended in the Montagu-Chelmsford Report. The Committee did not agree, and the Committee had their own way.

In taking leave of the Committee, I desire to say one word in regard to Sir Frank Sly, late Governor of the Central Provinces. He was our Vice-Chairman; and sometimes in the absence of Lord Southborough he presided at our meetings. His grasp of detail, his familiarity with the conduct and management of committees, and the effectiveness of his cross-examination of witnesses, hostile or unwilling, were all a valuable aid to the Committee. As I followed his cross-examination, it struck me at times that he had mistaken his vocation, and that his proper place was at the Bar and not in the Indian Civil Service. My friend Mr. Aftab Mohamed proved a stalwart champion of the Mohamedan community, and, though he never lost sight of the larger interests of the nation, he seemed to me as a member of the Committee to give preference to the particular views of his Mohamedan co-religionists. Mr. Shastri was generally fair, but he had a sort of suspicion that Bengal was having too much her own way, and at times he tried to put on the brake. The official members, in my opinion, tried to hold the balance evenly, and, on the whole, with fairness to all interests. Altogether we were a happy family, enjoying our work, delighting in the opportunity of meeting the representatives of so many interests and the rulers of so many provinces. To me this novel occupation, of sitting ​as a member of a Government Committee, charged with an impor- tant public duty, was an education, giving me an insight into the relations between governments and the people they controlled, which hours of newspaper reading could not have afforded. Living contact with men opens one's eyes to visions that are but dimly seen among the dusty records of the Secretariat, or even in the more animated effusions of the daily press. The man is before you. He is a ruler of men. You see him; you hear him; you look at his gestures—the whole man is there. The impression that he leaves on the mind of the beholder has the indelible mark of truth, un- obscured by those artificial and adventitious darkenings which a transmitted message, whether through the pen or the voice, cannot fail to engender.

The Montagu-Chelmsford Report laid down certain definite principles, the details of which our Committee had to work out. The most important of these was undoubtedly the question of representation in the Legislative Councils. The Report condemned the communal principle as interfering with the civic spirit and the development of nationhood; but unfortunately that principle was recognized in the Morley-Minto Scheme and there was no going back upon it without the concurrence of the Mohamedan community; and, while conferring a boon, to withdraw one prized by the Mohamedan community would have been inconsistent and illogical. Communal representation being accepted, what we had to decide was the percentage of Hindu and Mohamedan members in the Legislative Councils; and here we had the Lucknow Convention of 1916 to guide us. Whether we should accept it as it was or modify it in any way, was the subject of anxious consideration by the Committee. We finally decided to proceed substantially upon the lines of the Lucknow Convention. The evidence that we received varied, as may well be imagined, in a most remarkable manner. There were Extremists on both sides—Hindus who would make little or no concession, Mohamedans who would go much further than the pact. We thought that the golden mean accepted at Lucknow was a fair solution, and consistent with the legitimate claims of both the communities. The question has been re-opened in Bengal by the Swarajists for party purposes. The proposals of the Swarajists, which will be discussed later on, have roused the indignation of the Hindu community, while they have been acclaimed with enthusiasm by the Mohamedan leaders. They constitute a veritable apple of discord.

​There was another question, perhaps somewhat less controver- sial, which the Franchise Committee had to deal with namely, the special electorates for zemindars. I never favoured these special electorates, and in the Calcutta Municipal Bill, of which I was-in charge as Minister, I cut them down as far as I could. They are undemocratic in principle. They favoured the formation of privi- leged classes. and they withdrew from the general body of electors seats that might have gone to them. I believe the Committee, as a whole, were averse to them. But higher authority had decided otherwise, and we were bound by its mandate. Indeed, while the democratic principle might be said to be the basis of the Montagu- Chelmsford Scheme, a new special electorate had to be created, again under orders, for the Sikh community. Their war services were highly distinguished; and a grateful Government had to yield to the insistent demand of a martial race friendly to British interests. Here we have an illustration of the truth that political principles cannot always be carried to their legitimate and logical conclusion, and that every principle has to be determined by the circumstances of its application.

There was again the question of residence. Should the franchise be confined to those actually residing in the constituency, or should it be extended to all residents of the province, whose names were borne on the electoral roll? Official opinion supported the former view. The English practice is different and is in conformity with educated Indian opinion. To restrict the qualification to actual residents would narrow the field of choice, and might in some cases operate.to exclude the best men from the Legislative Council. Then again constituencies are notoriously fickle, and sometimes a good man might be thrown out, through the caprice of a not too stable electorate. In such a case a narrow residential qualification would exclude him. On the other hand it was contended that an unrestricted residential qualification would let in carpet-baggers and political adventurers, having no interest in the constituencies they represented, and perhaps little in the affairs of the province. However that might be, the local Governments, as a rule, were in favour of a residential qualification, and I remember the tussle I had with Lord Ronaldshay and the members of the Bengal Executive Council over this question. They were all opposed to me. Lord Southborough and the Indian members were of a differ- ent opinion, which in the end prevailed. In Bengal the electoral ​rules do not provide for residential qualification, which is confined to some of the other provinces.

In January, 1919, I visited Bombay as a member of the South- borough Committee. Some time before, while we were at Nagpore, my friend Mr. Dalvi had obtained from me the promise that I would unveil the portrait of Mr. Dadabhai Naoroji, which had been subscribed for by the students of the Elphinstone College. I had now to redeem this pledge. The function was performed at the University Convocation Hall, which had been lent for the purpose, before a large and distinguished gathering under the presidency of Principal Covernton. I delivered a fairly long speech, for which of course I can find no place in these reminiscences. But there is one matter which is perhaps of perennial interest to the Indian politician and has come to the forefront in connexion with the Non-Co-operation controversy. In all countries in the world, especially in India with its emotional people and its consti- tution still in the making, the struggle between the ideal and the real is an ever-present factor. The struggle has to be continued from generation to generation, until some reasonable approach to a fusion between the ideal and the real has been attained. To the young, the custodians of the future, the question is one of sur- passing interest. Here was a great gathering of young men of Western India, and I spoke to them on this subject as follows:

So thought the greatest political teacher of our generation; and these have been my ideals for a lifetime. I formed them in my youth; I cherished them in my manhood; I firmly adhere to them in the evening of my days, as convictions deepened by long experience. I closely follow the lines of Tennyson's teachings—a majestic order, a gradual and regular development, without rest, but also without haste. 'Raw haste' he says, 'is but half-sister to delay.'