subject was not one that
concerned my own department, or one as to which my opinion could be of
any value. I, therefore, merely endorsed the papers with my initials and
sent them on, without having given the subject much attention. In common
with all my colleagues, I was soon to learn the gravity of the step
which had been taken. A furious storm of opposition, which profoundly
shook the prestige and authority of the Government of India, and notably
of the Viceroy, arose. It was clear that a mistake had been made. The
measure was in itself not very important. It was obviously undesirable,
as Lyall remarked, to "set fire to an important wing of the house in
order to roast a healthy but small pig." The best plan, had it been
possible, would have been to admit the mistake and to withdraw the
measure; and this would certainly have been done had it not been for the
unseemly and extravagant violence of the European unofficial community,
notably that of Calcutta. It should, however, in fairness be stated that
they were irritated and alarmed, not so much at the acts of Lord Ripon's
Government, but at some rather indiscreet language which had at times
been used, and which led them, quite erroneously, to suspect that
extreme measures were in contemplation, of a nature calculated to shake
the foundations of British supremacy in India. This violent attitude
naturally led to reprisals and bitter recriminations from the native
press, with the result that the total withdrawal of the measure would
have been construed as a decisive defeat to the adoption of even the
most moderate measures of liberal reform in India. The project of total
withdrawal could not, therefore, be entertained.

In these circumstances, the duty of a practical rough-and-ready
politician was very clearly indicated. However little he might care for
the measure on its own merits, political instinct pointed unmistakably
to the absolute necessity of affording strong support to the Viceroy.
Lyall failed to realise this fully. He admired Lord Ripon's courage. "We
must," he said, "all do our best to pull the Viceroy through." But
withal it is clear, by his own admission, that he only gave the Viceroy
"rather lukewarm support." "I have intrenched myself," he wrote in a
characteristic letter, "behind cautious proposals, and am quoted on both
sides." This attitude was not due to any want of moral courage, for a
more courageous man, both physically and morally, than Lyall never