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
lived. It was simply the result of what Lord Lytton called "the Lyall
habit of seeing both sides of a question," and not being able to decide
betimes which side to support. That a man of Lyall's philosophical and
reflective turn of mind should see both sides of a question is not only
natural but commendable, but this frame of mind is not one that can be
adopted without hazard by a man of action at the head of affairs at a
time of acute crisis.

There is, however, a reverse side to this picture. The same mental
attributes which rendered Lyall somewhat unfit, in my opinion, to deal
with an incident such as the Ilbert Bill episode, enabled him to come
with credit and distinction out of a situation of extreme difficulty in
which the reputation of many another man would have foundered. I have no
wish or intention to stir up again the embers of past Afghan
controversies. It will be sufficient for my purpose to say that Lord
Lytton, immensely to his credit, recognised Lyall's abilities and
appointed him Foreign Secretary, in spite of the fact that he was
associated with the execution of a policy to which Lord Lytton himself
was strongly opposed, and which he had decided to reverse. Lyall did not