“I regret that on this, or on any subject, my opinion should differ from that of the Honourable Court.  But I still conscientiously think that we acted wisely when we passed the law on the subject of the Press; and I am quite certain that we should act most unwisely if we were now to repeal that law.

“I must, in the first place, venture to express an opinion that the importance of that question is greatly over-rated by persons, even the best informed and the most discerning, who are not actually on the spot.  It is most justly observed by the Honourable Court that many of the arguments which may be urged in favour of a free Press at home do not apply to this country.  But it is, I conceive, no less true that scarcely any of those arguments which have been employed in Europe to defend restrictions on the Press apply to a Press such as that of India.

“In Europe, and especially in England, the Press is an engine of tremendous power, both for good and for evil.  The most enlightened men, after long experience both of its salutary and of its pernicious operation, have come to the conclusion that the good on the whole preponderates.  But that there is no inconsiderable amount of evil to be set off against the good has never been disputed by the warmest friend to freedom of discussion.

“In India the Press is comparatively a very feeble engine.  It does far less good and far less harm than in Europe.  It sometimes renders useful services to the public.  It sometimes brings to the notice of the Government evils the existence of which would otherwise have been unknown.  It operates, to some extent, as a salutary check on public functionaries.  It does something towards keeping the administration pure.  On the other hand, by misrepresenting public measures, and by flattering the prejudices of those who support it, it sometimes produces a slight degree of excitement in a very small portion of the community.

“How slight that excitement is, even when it reaches its greatest height, and how little the Government has to fear from it, no person whose observation has been confined to European societies will readily believe.  In this country the number of English residents is very small, and, of that small number, a great proportion are engaged in the service of the State, and are most deeply interested in the maintenance of existing institutions.  Even those English settlers who are not in the service of the Government have a strong interest in its stability.  They are few; they are thinly scattered among a vast population, with whom they have neither language, nor religion, nor morals, nor manners, nor colour in common; they feel that any convulsion which should overthrow the existing order of things would be ruinous to themselves.  Particular acts of the Government—­especially acts which are mortifying to the pride of caste naturally felt by an Englishman in India—­are often angrily condemned by these persons.  But every indigo-planter in Tirhoot, and every shopkeeper in Calcutta, is perfectly aware that the downfall of the Government would be attended with the destruction of his fortune, and with imminent hazard to his life.