India Under Ripon: A Private Diary

“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.”

CHAPTER VI

A MOHAMMEDAN UNIVERSITY

“1st January, 1884.

“To-day our visitors were:

“Mohammed Yusuf, a Member of Council, to whom I broached my idea of a university, but he is of the worldly school, and says he would rather have his sons educated at the Presidency College. He dresses, however, becomingly, in dark clothes, and with a gilt crown on his head.

“A Sheykh from Yemen came next, who brought a letter of introduction from Arabi, whom he had visited in Ceylon. He talked about the Mahdi, and told us that all the Arabs in Yemen and in Hejaz would join him if he crossed the Red Sea. They were weary of the Turks. The Mahdi had already a Wazir in Yemen, who was gathering adherents to the great terror of the Ottoman Mushir. The Turks had lately inveigled the Harb chiefs into Mecca, and imprisoned them, which was the cause of the confusion in the country. Midhat was still a prisoner at Taïf. The old man himself evidently believed in the Mahdi, and explained to us how all the signs and prophecies had been fulfilled about him. He was delighted when I said ‘Allah yensoru’; and when he went away I observed that Mohammed Yusuf, in spite of his English education, reverently kissed his hand.

“Five friends of Jemal-ed-Din called to express their sympathy with ‘The Future of Islam.’ They are all young men, students and enthusiasts, hating England, I am afraid, with all their hearts. They are readers of ‘Abu Nadara,’ and they told me the address of the Ceylon Mohammedans had been printed in the last number. I showed them Sanua’s last letter to me, which interested them greatly, especially the page in Arabic he had added for Sabunji, whom they also know in connection with the ‘Bee.’ What, however, pleased them still better was Arabi’s letter, which some of them devoutly kissed. Only one could speak English, but they all had liberal ideas about religion, in fact Jemal-ed-Din’s. These young students talk with the greatest boldness on all subjects, and I like them for it.

“Old Mukerji also came, with a great granddaughter, a lovely little girl with a skin like stained ivory, and lips of coral, and eyes with the purest white and the brightest black. These Mukerjis are a family of the highest caste in Bengal.

“Dined at Dr. Hörnli’s to meet some twenty Mohammedans. I am to speak my ideas on education in India, to-morrow, at the Anjuman i Islam meeting. It is certainly an experiment, but I know what I have to say, and, I think, also how to say it.

“2nd Jan.– Akbar Huseyn called to talk over his translation of ‘The Future of Islam.’ He is quite satisfied with the new preface, which I gave him yesterday, but will leave out some of the passages referring personally to Sultan Abd-el-Hamid. This, I hope, will satisfy all parties; and the book, to do good, must not be condemned as unorthodox. It has, however, he tells me, already done individual good, and he cited the instance of two of his friends who had been much affected by it, one of them to the extent of inducing him to abandon atheistic ideas and resume the practices of religion. This is most satisfactory; he says that he is sure it will be universally read in its Urdu form. I told him in return of my intention of visiting Constantinople, and trying to induce the Sultan to take up the idea of a Pan-Islamic Synod. We both agreed that, after the defeat in Egypt, Islam could not afford to wait for a more legitimate Caliph. What is especially gratifying in all this is that those who are bringing out the translation are members of the old school, not of the new. By the new school its ideas were sure to be accepted, but I hardly expected the other to go so far. We talked also of the Mahdi and his claims. They would all like to believe in him, but the opinion here is that ‘the only real test of his mission is its success.’

“Ferid-ed-Din also came, introducing the Nawab Rajah Amir Hassan, the leading personage of Lucknow. He invited us to come and stay with him there; and I do not feel quite sure whether this is to be as representing Prince Suleyman Kadur or not. He did not talk very good English, however; so there is doubt.

“This constant talking and writing is beginning to affect my nerves, and we went out earlier than usual for a drive, calling on the Princes Jehan Kadur and Suleyman Kadur. The first lives with his uncle, the King of Oude, in Garden Reach, but he was out. The second has taken a house in the Circular Road. We took him, I expect, by surprise, for we found him in his shirt sleeves, in which state he entertained us. He seems an amiable, good man, but as he talks no English, and there was no interpreter, our conversation was in dumb show.

“Then we went to the Exhibition, where we met old Siva Prasad, and had a long conversation with him. Though he begins by the proposition that he entirely approves the administrative system of the British Government, in practice he complains of nearly everything which other people complain of. He says they don’t understand the people’s wants, that they overtax them, and are perpetually raising the assessment. He holds land under them, and says it is impossible so much as to dig a well without the rent being raised. Reduced to its simplicity his argument is purely an historical one – namely, that India was worse off in the matter of peace and order before they came. ‘For the sake of this,’ he said, ‘let them strip us to the skin. So long as body and soul hold together, and we have a rag to our loins, we will be thankful, only we would ask some permanence in their revenue demands – fifty per cent., eighty per cent., ninety per cent. if they will – but not always an increase for every improvement we make.’ He then described the action of the assessment officers, just as others have done. Yet, for his English views and anti-National attitude, he has been burnt in effigy in his native town. This speaks volumes as to the ‘loyalty’ of the Hindus. He had written to the Maharajah, who will entertain us at Benares.

“The meeting of the Anjuman i Islam was a great success. All present, some two hundred, were in strictly native dress, with the single exception of Abd-el-Latif’s son. The proceedings began with what seemed a very able lecture or sermon in Hindustani, delivered by Ferid-ed-Din, a man of the old stamp, but full of intellectual vigour. He explained, it would seem, his ideas of the wants and needs of Mohammedans in the matter of education, and described my views of reform as contained in the ‘Future of Islam,’ from which he made quotations, and mentioned the fact of Anne’s knowledge of Arabic as an example for all Mohammedans to follow. (We were both there.) And he also mentioned the university scheme. All this was very well received. Then Abd-el-Latif spoke, attacking Seyd Ahmed and his school, and then I, too, made my discourse, Abd-el-Latif translating it sentence by sentence, as I went on. It is rather difficult to be eloquent under such circumstances, but after the first I got on well. I told them how I had travelled up the country from the south, and how at Madura I had heard the Mohammedans complain that they had no one to teach them English, and no one to teach them their religion. I likened their position to that of the Catholics in England, and told them what efforts had been made by these in the way of founding colleges on a religious basis, and a university. I next described the ideas the Nationalists had entertained at Cairo of reforming and extending the university education of the Azhar, and I urged them, now that circumstances in Egypt had interrupted this great idea, to take it up in India. I believed a great opportunity was offered them thus of assuming the intellectual leadership of Islam. I then explained in detail my plan that a university on a religious basis should be founded in some city where living was cheap, and which should be sufficiently central to serve the wants of all India. I did not mention Hyderabad, as the idea ought to come from the Nizam himself. I urged on the Princes present (for there were representatives of every reigning Mohammedan house) to come forward and endow professorships, and poorer men scholarships. It would be an act of religion, not only an act of philanthropy, and so would gain them merit in this world and the next; and by connecting their names with the endowment they would perpetuate themselves in the memory of good men. I then stated my intention of myself founding such an endowment, a professorship of religious history, and lastly thanked them for the welcome they had given us. When I had landed in India I did not know whether the Mohammedans there would understand the sincerity of my sympathy, but the result had surpassed all my expectations. I begged them to believe that I would give my life, if need was, to help their cause, and begged them to remember me when I was gone, as I would remember them.

“The speech seemed much appreciated, and a vote of thanks was proposed to both of us for our services in the cause of religion. All the principal people of the old school were present, and I noticed some of our poor student friends, Jemal-ed-Din’s disciples, one of them acting as shorthand writer of the proceedings. I shall repeat my argument in the towns of the north to whosoever will listen; and I fancy the idea will be taken up. But the rich men sitting in the front row looked a little uncomfortable, especially an old fellow with his feet tucked up on his chair, who is said to be the possessor of millions. I must now try and get Amir Ali’s countenance also, for it is essential that we should unite all parties.

“3rd Jan.– Old Sheykh Abd-el-Rahman Ibn Hassan Ibn Abd-el-Mari, of Marawa, near Hodeida, looked in again, and gave me a deal of valuable information about the horses in Yemen. He says the best breed is called ‘Beit el Khamaïs,’ and belongs to the Sherifs of the Ahl Hsaidar, formerly kings of Yemen. They live in the town and district of Abu Arish, near the seaport of Ghizan, and near the Assir frontier. These horses are generally bays, with black points of medium height, and ‘mutlakh el shimal.’ ‘They are better,’ he said, ‘than any of the horses of Nejd, even those of the Anazeh.’ A year or two ago the Sherif, Ali Ibn Mohammed el Barad, had a son who was taken as a hostage by the Turks, and shut up in prison at Hodeida. His father sent men secretly to Hodeida, with five mares, and they got the boy out of prison by dressing him as a girl. They rode away without stopping to Abu-el-Rish, which is one hundred and fifty miles by the map, and the boy and one other arrived, on the fifth day, on two mares of the Khamaïs breed; the other three being of inferior blood, died on the road. These horses are not to be bought even for 1,000 or 2,000 dollars. But the Sheykh thinks Ali el Barad would give me one if I went to see him. The next best breed is in Jôf el Mareb, where Sidi Huseyn, a Sherif of Jôf, has asil horses of the breed ‘el Zahir.’ These are very tall, some bay, and some white. There are also Kehilans, and Abeyans, and Hamdanis, as in Nejd. The old man invited us to stay with him at Marawa, and then pulled a letter from his pocket, which proved to be a very ingenious begging letter, in verse, calling upon me as protector of the Moslems to help him, a poor Sherif, to build three houses for his three sons to settle them in life. I gave him one hundred rupees, whereupon he rose and politely departed.

“Two young Mohammedans next called, Mohammed Abd el Gaffar and another. The former wanted permission to translate the ‘Wind and the Whirlwind’ into Urdu verse, which I readily gave him. I shall put him into communication with Sidi Lebbe, at Kandy, as he seems good with his pen, and is correspondent of the ‘Abu Nadara.’

“Kazi Raza Huseyn also came with a friend from Patna to invite us to stay with him while there. He is Kadi of Patna, and we shall thus enjoy Mohammedan hospitality, the first, I should fancy, that for many years has been offered to an Englishman in India. Our other visitors were Abd-el-Rahman Ibn Abd-el-Latif, Ferid-ed-Din, and Akbar Huseyn. Ferid-ed-Din will announce our arrival at Allahabad on the 10th, and will receive us at Cawnpore on the 14th.

“Rajah Nil Krishna, son of the Maharajah of Krishna, came to invite us to attend a meeting on Indian education at his father’s house on Saturday. He talked strongly and bitterly of the disappointment of the Indians at receiving no practical help from Lord Ripon. ‘Why did they teach us to read about liberty and justice and self-government,’ he said, ‘if after all we are to have none of these things?’

“We called in the afternoon on Mrs. Ilbert, but missed seeing her husband. Hunter, the statistician, was there, and I tackled him as to his figures on the land assessment. He maintained them to be correct, and said that, as to the Madras Presidency, he had taken them from official reports. But like everybody else he did not know Madras. He admitted, however, that the land assessment of the Deccan was a blot on our Indian administration. I said: ‘A very large blot,’ for the Deccan is half India. He then referred me to Mr. Quinton, who was sitting near, as the first authority on land assessment. But, on inquiry, I found he, too, knew nothing of Madras, and seemed to have his ideas confined to Bengal, the North-West Provinces, and the Zemindar system prevalent there. I told him that every native, without exception, put the land assessment at from forty to fifty, or even sixty per cent. on the gross produce. But he would have it that it must mean the net produce. In districts of the north, where the permanent settlement does not act, the assessment is calculated on the rent received by the Zemindar. They do not seem, either of them, to understand that in three parts out of four of India there are no Zemindars, and the Government is sole landlord. Also they talk as if the irrigated districts were the rule, not the exception. Hunter is, nevertheless, evidently a very able man, and anxious to hear the views of outsiders. He offered to show me the whole of the land question in Bengal in a single afternoon’s visit to some villages near Calcutta.9

“At night there was a full dress party at Government House, all the native nobility and notability present. I made acquaintance with several new people, among others the Maharajah of Krishna, an intelligent and distinguished man, besides meeting most of our native acquaintance. I noticed that both Abd-el-Latif and Amir Ali were rather shy of being seen talking to me, the latter especially, but, as I had something to say, I took possession of him and made him sit down with me. I told him my university plans, and found him at first rather huffy about it. He said that no Mohammedan in India cared for a merely religious education, but was vexed when I hinted that there were some of them who cared only for success in life. He did not believe anybody would subscribe. He had tried to get subscriptions for educational schemes and had failed. While we were talking Lord Ripon came by, and Amir Ali jumped up and pretended not to belong to me. But when he saw that Lord Ripon stopped to talk to me he became more cordial. And, afterwards, I got him into good humour by telling him, as a great secret, of the Hyderabad scheme. He first objected that the Hyderabad State was going to ruin; but I told him that would be soon set right, and that the Nizam was interested in the university, and he said, if that was the case it would succeed, and promised to help it on in every way in his power. I told him that my idea was that great latitude should be given to religious differences of opinion, and he might have a school of rationalism there if he chose.

“Lord Ripon was very amiable, and expressed a hope that he might see us at Hyderabad on the occasion of the installation; so I conclude the Nizam has told him we are expected. Salar Jung also told me he had spoken to the Nizam, and found him ready to support the university scheme. Keay made a successful speech this afternoon at the Town Hall, but I did not go, as he did not specially ask me to be there, and I had heard all his arguments already.

“4th Jan.– We had no visits to-day, but went to Government House at 11 o’clock to hear the Ilbert debate. It was a tame affair, but not altogether uninteresting. The Viceroy and Councillors sit round a large table, and the spectators, allowed in by ticket, sit also round, at a little distance, on chairs. Ilbert, who is a little, rather young looking man, related the history of the bill, slurring over the compromise as much as possible. Mrs. Ilbert was sitting next to us. Then Hunter spoke, quoting some words of Malabari’s in the ‘Indian Spectator’ as an evidence that native opinion accepted the compromise. I asked him afterwards if he really thought this sentence represented either the general opinion, or even Malabari’s own opinion, and he said he supposed so. Amir Ali next gave his opinion in a speech which, I think, was the best made, though it was wonderfully different from his private talk. He introduced, however, very cleverly a letter the Queen had written at the time of the Proclamation, which was very effective, and he reserved his attack on the compromise for the Select Committee. He told me afterwards that he had been promised to have his amendments paid attention to if he would only support the Bill. I think he would have done better to speak his mind. Kristodas Pal was as unsatisfactory. He dared not speak out and tell the Council how angry his people, the Hindus, were, and though he made some pertinent remarks on details, his speech was feeble. Hunter told me they had got hold of him with difficulty, but he would vote with them. All this is very disappointing, though I was not prepared for much, and I confess the commercial man representing the planters’ interests stood out well in contrast, for he threatened the Council with new agitation if the letter of the compromise was not adherred to. We then adjourned to luncheon, and after luncheon somebody discovered that an important clause in the Bill might be read in two contradictory ways, and the debate was again adjourned to Monday. The Nizam and his court were present – very much interested, as it seemed, in all that was going on. I had talk with several members of the Council, and found them all with the idea that there was no real excitement among the natives on the question. They will never see anything until the fire breaks out.

“Later we went to a party at Belvidere, and again met the Hyderabad party. I had five minutes’ talk at last, alone, with the Nizam, and asked him to put himself at the head of a movement for a university. He was the leader of the Mohammedans in India, and the people looked to him for their redemption. He promised most readily and emphatically that he would do so, and I suggested to him that he should speak to the Viceroy about it the day he was installed, and say that he wished to commemorate his accession by a great act in favour of education, and I cautioned him to say nothing about it to any one but Lord Ripon. This too he promised; and I am to send him, through Salar Jung, a draft scheme for approval, between this and our meeting him again at Hyderabad. Thus my plan in visiting India is working itself out in a surprising manner. El hamdu l’Illah! I had also talk on the same subject with Prince Ferukshah. He is a great friend and admirer of Amir Ali, whom he extols as a truly patriotic and disinterested Mohammedan, and I am glad to hear it. I spoke to him about the university. Like Amir Ali, he at first said it was impracticable; but when I explained it, and told him that I had already had promise of support from several eminent persons, he became more interested, and ended by wishing it all success. He is Europeanized, but wears a black cap instead of a hat, and is a most civilized and intelligent man. It is a pity they hate each other so that they cannot join in any common action. While I was speaking, Abd-el-Latif came up; and I noticed that Prince Ferukshah did not speak to him, but turned away. Fools!

“5th Jan.– Seyd Mohammed, Abd-el-Latif’s son-in-law, called, a much cleverer young man than Abd-el-Latif’s son. I like him much, as he is thorough-going and outspoken. We talked about Shiahs and Sunnis, and he told me that here, in Calcutta, there is no kind of ill-feeling between them, or any important difference of ideas. The Shiahs are not numerous, perhaps five per cent., but they have some men of high position, such as the King of Oude and his family and Prince Ferukshah. I asked him whether the Shiahs sided with Amir Ali, he being a Shiah; and he said on the contrary they were nearly all of the Conservative Party. Prince Jehan, I remember, was at the Literary meeting. He then explained the course of education received by a Bengal Mohammedan. He begins at a vernacular school at seven years old, in which the language is Bengali only. Then he goes for three years to the Madrasa at Calcutta, where the education is in English for four hours, and Arabic or Persian or Urdu or Bengali, for one hour daily. At fifteen or sixteen, or later, he passes, by Entrance Examination, into the University. At none of these places is he taught religion. At the vernacular school the teacher is generally a Hindu. At the Madrasa, the Arabic and Persian teachers are Mulvis, but they are chosen by the Government from among the least religious and most loyal of the Ulema. Also the Government know nothing of their qualifications in Arabic or Persian, as they do not understand those languages. In the University the education is again almost wholly in English, so that those who have passed the whole course seldom know any other language, to read and write it with ease. They then become cut off from the mass of Mohammedans, regard them with contempt, and are so, by them, regarded. They consequently lose all influence with ninety-nine per cent. of the community.