CHAPTER XXIV

FAMINE, TURKS AND INDIANS

_Punch_ and Fawcett—The Indian Famine—Parliamentary Interest aroused in India—Bulgarian Atrocities—Afghanistan War—Gladstone’s Faith in Fawcett—A £9,000,000 Mistake.

He was becoming one of the most prominent figures in the House of Commons, and as such is frequently mentioned in the political diary with which _Punch_ has amused more than two generations. _Punch_ gives vivid glimpses of our hero ‘hitting out in fine style,’ giving ‘a well deserved rap over the knuckles’ to some not too scrupulous speaker. Then he is ‘the blind gentleman who cannot see things in his way like other people, and so will not be turned aside’; or ‘One of the biggest wigs on India.’ On a night of great debate ‘First in the lists was that ablest of intractables, Professor Fawcett, who not seeing when he bores others can defy the penalties of boredom in the strength of an honest purpose.’ Finally, when energy was required ‘Professor Fawcett danced over it.’

Then back to the quiet home across the river, and a peaceful time by his own fireside. In damp weather the tolling of Big Ben would ring clear over the water. Fawcett did not need to be told it was raining or to depend on the patter on the window panes for his knowledge. He knew it by the distinctive noises of the wet wheels of traffic. All the various noises of the London streets were acutely present to him: the uneven, slow hammer of a lame horse’s hoofs, the short quick step of a donkey, and the whir of the two wheels of a coster’s donkey-cart piled high with vegetables for Covent Garden, or the more rhythmic trot of a pair of carriage horses and the almost noiseless revolutions of the wheels of prosperous vehicles. He knew of fog by the muffled cries of the cabbies and the linkmen, or by the bewildering tooting of the river craft on the Thames.

In 1875 Gladstone retired from the Liberal leadership, and Lord Hartington was elected in his stead. The Liberals were a disorganised and despondent party, sitting in the coldest of cold shades of opposition. But there was nothing dispirited about Fawcett. In this session he reiterated two former war-cries: the one to reduce the expenses of Parliamentary candidates—a proposal which still had little support from either side of the House; the other, to insist with this Government as he had insisted with the former one, to bring on the debate on the Indian Budget in sufficient time for proper discussion. In the same session funds were voted to meet the expenses of the tour about to be made by the Prince of Wales in India. Fawcett was wishful that the whole cost of this voyage of good will should be met by England. But both Disraeli and Gladstone opposed him, and he was unable to get his point carried.

[Sidenote: The Liberty of the Individual.]

His strong belief in individual liberty gave Fawcett scant sympathy with that school of thought which was for controlling people into better conditions of living. When the Conservative Government brought in a bill for municipal action in cases of bad housing, and the premier happily misquoted ’sanitas sanitatum, omnia sanitas,’ Fawcett was scornful. He considered it class legislation and paternally patronising in a way that few would understand to-day. He had the same feeling about the Factory Acts, except when they were to protect the most helpless. On the other hand, he was eager to extend the compulsory attendance of children at school, and urged it several times during this Parliament.

[Sidenote: Empress of India.]

[Sidenote: Famine.]

Queen Victoria was proclaimed Empress of India at Delhi in 1877 amidst much stately ceremonial and much thundering of cannon. But the reverberations from the Imperial salute had hardly died away before ominous news was muttered of famine in Bengal. It proved only too true, and was very terrible in its effects. More than two million people died. Many endeavours were made to cope with the disaster, and also to provide better against its recurrence, in all of which Fawcett took deep interest. A month or two later it was proposed to remit the duty on cotton. Fawcett, although a strong free trader, opposed this, as he thought the change at this time would deal hardly with India.

In 1879 Fawcett published an article in the _Nineteenth Century_, called ‘The New Departure in Finance,’ in which he shows the changes that have been wrought. He points out, amongst other things, that in that year the Indian Budget was discussed in May instead of in August, and that it excited sufficient interest for the debate to last three nights, whereas in former years it was generally hurried over in the closing hours of the session. The vital importance of limiting taxation and reducing expenditure had been acknowledged by the highest authorities, and an obstacle had thus been surmounted which had hitherto stood in the way of all serious reforms. He insisted on the importance of developing the resources of the country, but objected to reckless borrowing for that purpose. He considered that the expenses could be reduced until there should be a fair surplus to spend on works of real value. He emphasised most particularly a policy always much in his mind. There might be a great saving of money, and a great gain politically, if more opportunity were given to the native races to be employed in Government posts. After calling attention to the heavy military expenditure, he ends with the expression of a hope that a new financial era is really being inaugurated.

Fawcett was surprised and amused at the way in which his essay was received with unanimous approval, and said that it showed ‘the uncertainty of any forecast of the effect of an appeal to the public.’ After years of labour apparently productive of little result, he had suddenly become an exponent of accepted principles.

He is now the great man. And a great man’s jokes, however feeble, make their impress. But through this atmosphere we see the cheerful Fawcett of our ken, gay, brusque, and light-hearted.

He walks with a friend from Newmarket to Cambridge. The friend relates:

[Sidenote: Fawcett and the Yokels.]

‘We stopped at a roadside inn for lunch; the country yokels stared, as well they might, at this strong-faced blind man, full of interest for the things they knew about. He insisted on paying more than the landlady asked, because he had taken all the crust off the loaf!

‘I saw some one on the road whom I thought Fawcett ought to know, who passed with no sign of recognition. On inquiry from him why I thought he would know this man, I described him as some old fogey who looked like a member of the University. Later on I had occasion to talk to him about the strenuous exercise he often took, and hazarded a conjecture that he was as strong as any member of the House of Commons. His version, shouted out to his wife directly he got inside of his house, was that I had been calling him an old fogey, and had been trying to make up for it by calling him the strongest member of the House.’

‘In the evening his wife or any friend present read aloud to him. I remember one evening, after I had been reading the _Spectator_ to him, Mrs. Fawcett took up Trevelyan’s _Life of Fox_, and read to him for some minutes; she then looked up and said, ‘Harry, you are asleep!’ He indignantly denied it, and to show that he had not been asleep said, “I have heard every word you said. I think we will have some of Fox’s Life now.” When informed that we had been reading it for ten minutes, he said, without being at all disconcerted, “Oh, have you, then go on!”’

[Sidenote: The terrible Turks.]

The Beaconsfield Government (for Disraeli was now Earl of Beaconsfield), which had begun its course so prosperously, had from 1876 onwards to meet difficulties arising from war in Eastern Europe. The Turks put down a rising in Bulgaria with inconceivable barbarity, and Beaconsfield’s handling of the question gave great offence to many Englishmen. The sufferings of the Christians brought Gladstone out of his retirement and, in the first days of September, he published a pamphlet that was sold daily in its thousands. Within a fortnight Fawcett presided at a great meeting in Exeter Hall, the birthplace of so many crusades.

It is popularly supposed that it is particularly difficult for the blind to keep order or to compel attention. This idea has often been used as an objection to the blind as teachers or lecturers. As many things are true in the same degree of the blind person as of the seeing person. The practical question which should be asked in such cases is irrespective of blindness, and is: ‘Has the man sufficient personality to be interesting and to command attention and respect?’ Fawcett had. Both his blindness and his disregard of it compelled admiration, even reverence, while they added interest to what he said, and brought out the latent chivalrous, gracious qualities of his audience. It was probably far easier for him to preside at a meeting than it would have been for a sighted person of average calibre. He was not forced to keep order by himself, for most of the men at the meeting unconsciously helped the blind chairman by their sympathy and attention. Fawcett’s natural quickness, keyed to high pitch by his blindness, made him swift to detect the slightest movement or half-murmured objection, and to catch the change of mood in the tones of a speaker who was, even unknown to himself, being turned from his original point.

No breach of procedure escaped this chairman, whose unseeing eyes seemed to watch the expression of each debater. To see Fawcett in the chair, dominating the other strong men with whom he worked, was a sight not to be forgotten. Rising to his great height, and looking around with his genial smile, he would open the meeting with a few words. If their quiet authority left no doubt but that there would be order, there was a pleasant marginal sense that it would be order not necessarily dreary or even unmixed with fun.

A striking proof of his popularity occurred at the National Conference in the following December. Gladstone was chief orator, but Fawcett, who was on the platform, was called for from the audience to add his words as well.

But the first popular indignation became overcast by a jealousy of Russian action, and when the House met its mood was hesitating and uncertain. But not Fawcett. In March he moved independently a resolution demanding that the European Powers should insist on adequate reforms, and led an attack on the Government, that claimed to have a spirited foreign policy which was really a do-nothing policy. The Conservatives cried, horror-stricken, that Fawcett wanted a ‘bloody war.’ The Liberal front bench said that the resolution was inopportune, and they suggested it should be withdrawn. To this Fawcett felt obliged to consent, as a weak following from his own party would have made a most discouraging vote.

Two months later Gladstone brought in a resolution on the subject, but thought it unwise to go further than he could persuade the front bench to follow him. How eagerly he urged the Liberal leaders, and how reluctantly they consented, was not known at the time, and the weakness of Gladstone’s resolution was a great disappointment to Fawcett. He spoke vigorously at this May debate, and _Punch_ says of ‘this blind, brave Mr. Fawcett,’ ‘And it do me good to hear one so downright in these over timid times. And do call a spade a spade as plain as ever I hear.... And Mr. Gladstone did speak mighty well to the same time as Mr. Fawcett, only sharper and stronger and brisker and fiercer all at once as is his wont.’

[Sidenote: The Bengal Tiger.]

Fawcett, who had so lately been treated as a firebrand, found himself on the other side of the scales when in the next year’s phase of the question Beaconsfield’s Government became bellicose, and moved troops from India to the Mediterranean. Beaconsfield sided more and more strongly with the Turks as the question wrapped itself up into those complications whose orchestration is called the Concert of Europe. It was generally felt that these troops were on hand to help the Turks. Their removal from India to Malta roused Fawcett on two issues—the possibility of helping the Turks and the making of unfair demands on India. He again attacked the Ministers, or as _Punch_ says, ‘had it out with the Government about bringing the Bengal Tiger into European Waters.’

The Eastern question was to continue to disturb Europe, creating suspicions and fostering disagreements. Its first dramatic fruit was at the other end of the Russian dominions, where Afghanistan lies between the threatening borders of the Russian and British Empires. The Amir of Afghanistan, ‘an earthen pipkin between two iron pots,’ was wooed by England and by Russia, but desired the attentions of neither. But to prove his neutrality was impossible. The Indian Government accused him of favouring Russia, and a clumsy diplomacy led finally to war.

[Sidenote: To shield the Indian Taxpayer.]

Fawcett denounced at Bethnal Green, and again at Hackney, the underhand conduct of the Indian Government towards the Amir, and demanded that Parliament should be summoned. He argued from the opinions of high authorities that an occupation of the capital city, Cabul, would involve an intolerable burden upon Indian finances. When Parliament met to approve the expenditure incurred in Afghanistan, Fawcett, seconded by Mr. Gladstone, proposed that the cost of the war should not be thrown upon India. Once more he was defending the Indian tax-payer. He complained that when it was a question of declaring war, the Government had boasted that they were carrying out a great Imperial policy; when it was a question of paying for the war, they represented it as a mere border squabble. The course adopted by Government was unpopular, because it was marked by meanness and ‘entire absence of generosity.’ He declared that his constituents at Hackney would prefer to pay their fair share of the expense. His motion was rejected by 235 to 125. Fawcett returned to the charge in the next session, when a financial arrangement was proposed for apportioning the burden between England and India. Fawcett, in criticising, showed that India would have to pay twice as much as England. He was again seconded by Gladstone, but was again unsuccessful.

[Sidenote: Gladstone’s Faith in Fawcett’s knowledge.]

A story told of Fawcett at this time shows how real was the respect for his knowledge and exactness. He was staying at a week-end house-party in the country. Gladstone was there, and said to him, ‘What do you think of the news of Afghanistan? I have not read the papers and I have a speech to make on the subject. I have been at the Corpus Christi library, looking at the Parker manuscripts, comparing the 39 Articles, so that I have had no time.’ Fawcett told him about the Afghanistan conditions so fully and accurately that Gladstone, without having any further information, made a long and most telling speech about them in Parliament.

The importance to Gladstone of the Parker manuscript as compared with the Afghanistan complications is highly characteristic; we can imagine Fawcett’s amusement that Gladstone should become absorbed in an academic question of theological punctilio, for such it would seem to him, when there was such really vital matters at issue.

Before Parliament met again, Fawcett had accepted his appointment as Postmaster-General on condition that he would be free ‘to take part in Indian debates.’ But the great demands made on his time left little energy for other matters.

[Sidenote: A Mistake of Nine Million Pounds, no one to blame.]

He expressed himself in 1880 at length on the Indian Budget, when an error of nine millions in the accounts of the Afghan War came before the House. He showed how it emphasised the need of the precautions which he had urged on the Finance Committee, especially when it appeared that no one could be held responsible for this great carelessness. It was a comfort for him to be able to approve, in the main, the trend which the Indian policy continued to take, and that what he had laboured for so devotedly became the policy of the Government.

In reviewing his struggles for India, several things about him stand out forcefully. The fearlessness with which he took up a dangerous position, and by his very bravery made it safe ground. The scornful way he pushed aside whatever he considered spurious or unworthy. He gained not only the love of those whose battles he fought, but also the respect and goodwill of his adversaries.

Sir William Lee Warner says, ‘His great fear was that India might be saddled with charges which the British Treasury ought to bear; and the poverty of the ryot afflicted him as if he suffered himself.’ This suffering for others, so characteristic of Fawcett, was another common trait which he had with Lincoln, who we remember said that ‘he didn’t pull the wretched pig out of the mire for the pig’s sake, but to take the pain out of his own heart.’

In recognition of her husband’s great service, a beautiful necklace was sent in gratitude from India for Mrs. Fawcett, and a sumptuous tea-service was sent to him, which was inscribed, ‘Presented to the Rt. Honble. Henry Fawcett, M.P., by his native friends and admirers in Bombay, India, June 1880.’

With no aid save his great heart and tremendous energy, he had won his battle for India. Despite his galvanic talk and pioneering energy, he had shown great diplomacy. His stand had been made on the rock bed of honesty, and he had given no quarter to deceit or self-seekers. In serving his country as he would serve himself he had found his path of happiness.

A NEW KIND OF POSTMASTER-GENERAL

‘You can force your heart and nerve and sinew to serve your turn long after they have gone—and so hold on when there is nothing in you except the will which says hold on.’—KIPLING.