in an Oriental country, and when I am told that Orientals always mistake kindness for fear, I must repeat that I do not believe it, any more than I believe the stranger saying of Carlyle, that after all the fundamental question between any two human beings is—­Can I kill thee, or canst thou kill me?  I do not agree that any organised society has ever subsisted upon either of those principles, or that brutality is always present as a fundamental postulate in the relations between rulers and ruled.

My first question is this.  There are alternative courses open to us.  We can either withdraw our reforms, or we can persevere in them.  Which would be the more flagrant sign of weakness—­to go steadily on with your policy of reform in spite of bombs, or to let yourself openly be forced by bombs and murder clubs to drop your policy?  My second question is—­Who would be best pleased if I were to announce to your Lordships that the Government have determined to drop the reforms?  Why, it is notorious that those who would be best pleased would be the extremists and irreconcilables, just because they know well that for us to do anything to soften estrangement, and appease alienation between the European and native populations, would be the very best way that could be adopted to deprive them of fuel for their sinister and mischievous designs.  I hope your Lordships will agree in that, and I should like to add one reason which I am sure will weigh very much with you.  I do not know whether your Lordships have read the speech made last Friday by Sir Norman Baker, the new Lieutenant-Governor of Bengal, in the Council at Calcutta, dealing with the point that I am endeavouring to present.  In a speech of great power and force, he said that these repressive measures did not represent even the major part of the true policy dealing with the situation.  The greater task, he said, was to adjust the machinery of government, so that their Indian fellow-subjects might be allotted parts which a self-respecting people could fill, and that when the constitutional reforms were announced, as they would be shortly, he believed that the task of restoring order would be on the road to accomplishment.  For a man holding such a position to make such a statement at that moment, is all the corroboration that we need for persisting in our policy of reform.  I have talked with Indian experts of all kinds concerning reforms.  I admit that some have shaken their heads; they did not like reforms very warmly.  But when I have asked, “Shall we stand still, then?” there is not one of those experienced men who has not said, “That is quite impossible.  Whatever else we do, we cannot stand still.”

I should not be surprised if there are here some who say:  You ought to have some very strong machinery for putting down a free Press.  A long time ago a great Indian authority, Sir Thomas Munro, used language which I will venture to quote, not merely for the purpose of this afternoon’s exposition, but in order that everybody who listens and reads may feel the formidable difficulties that our predecessors have overcome, and that we in our turn mean to try to overcome.  Sir Thomas Munro said—­