Sir, I believe I am not going too far when I say that this is almost,
if not quite, the first occasion upon which what is called the British
democracy in its full strength has been brought directly face to face
with the difficulties of Indian Government in all their intricacies,
all their complexities, all their subtleties, and above all in their
enormous magnitude. Last year when I had the honour of addressing the
House on the Indian Budget, I observed, as many have done before me,
that it is one of the most difficult experiments ever tried in human
history, whether you can carry on, what you will have to try to carry
on in India--personal government along with free speech and free right
of public meeting. This which last year was partially a speculative
question, has this year become more or less actual, and that is a
question which I shall by and by have to submit to the House. I want
to set out the case as frankly as I possibly can. I want, if I may
say so without presumption, to take the House into full confidence so
far--and let nobody quarrel with this provision--as public interests
allow. I will beg the House to remember that we do not only hear one
another; we are ourselves this afternoon overheard. Words that may be
spoken here, are overheard in the whole kingdom. They are overheard
thousands of miles away by a vast and complex community. They are
overheard by others who are doing the service and work of the Crown in
India. By those, too, who take part in the immense work of commercial
and non-official life in India. We are overheard by great Indian
princes who are outside British India. We are overheard by the dim
masses of Indians whom, in spite of all, we shall persist in regarding
as our friends. We are overheard by those whom, I am afraid, we must
reluctantly call our enemies. This is the reason why everybody who
speaks to-day, certainly including myself, must use language that is
well advised, language of reserve, and, as I say again, the fruit of