“The meeting of the Anjuman i Islam was a great success. All present, some two hundred, were in strictly native dress, with the single exception of Abd-el-Latif’s son. The proceedings began with what seemed a very able lecture or sermon in Hindustani, delivered by Ferid-ed-Din, a man of the old stamp, but full of intellectual vigour. He explained, it would seem, his ideas of the wants and needs of Mohammedans in the matter of education, and described my views of reform as contained in the ‘Future of Islam,’ from which he made quotations, and mentioned the fact of Anne’s knowledge of Arabic as an example for all Mohammedans to follow. (We were both there.) And he also mentioned the university scheme. All this was very well received. Then Abd-el-Latif spoke, attacking Seyd Ahmed and his school, and then I, too, made my discourse, Abd-el-Latif translating it sentence by sentence, as I went on. It is rather difficult to be eloquent under such circumstances, but after the first I got on well. I told them how I had travelled up the country from the south, and how at Madura I had heard the Mohammedans complain that they had no one to teach them English, and no one to teach them their religion. I likened their position to that of the Catholics in England, and told them what efforts had been made by these in the way of founding colleges on a religious basis, and a university. I next described the ideas the Nationalists had entertained at Cairo of reforming and extending the university education of the Azhar, and I urged them, now that circumstances in Egypt had interrupted this great idea, to take it up in India. I believed a great opportunity was offered them thus of assuming the intellectual leadership of Islam. I then explained in detail my plan that a university on a religious basis should be founded in some city where living was cheap, and which should be sufficiently central to serve the wants of all India. I did not mention Hyderabad, as the idea ought to come from the Nizam himself. I urged on the Princes present (for there were representatives of every reigning Mohammedan house) to come forward and endow professorships, and poorer men scholarships. It would be an act of religion, not only an act of philanthropy, and so would gain them merit in this world and the next; and by connecting their names with the endowment they would perpetuate themselves in the memory of good men. I then stated my intention of myself founding such an endowment, a professorship of religious history, and lastly thanked them for the welcome they had given us. When I had landed in India I did not know whether the Mohammedans there would understand the sincerity of my sympathy, but the result had surpassed all my expectations. I begged them to believe that I would give my life, if need was, to help their cause, and begged them to remember me when I was gone, as I would remember them.
“The speech seemed much appreciated, and a vote of thanks was proposed to both of us for our services in the cause of religion. All the principal people of the old school were present, and I noticed some of our poor student friends, Jemal-ed-Din’s disciples, one of them acting as shorthand writer of the proceedings. I shall repeat my argument in the towns of the north to whosoever will listen; and I fancy the idea will be taken up. But the rich men sitting in the front row looked a little uncomfortable, especially an old fellow with his feet tucked up on his chair, who is said to be the possessor of millions. I must now try and get Amir Ali’s countenance also, for it is essential that we should unite all parties.
“3rd Jan.—Old Sheykh Abd-el-Rahman Ibn Hassan Ibn Abd-el-Mari, of Marawa, near Hodeida, looked in again, and gave me a deal of valuable information about the horses in Yemen. He says the best breed is called ‘Beit el Khamaïs,’ and belongs to the Sherifs of the Ahl Hsaidar, formerly kings of Yemen. They live in the town and district of Abu Arish, near the seaport of Ghizan, and near the Assir frontier. These horses are generally bays, with black points of medium height, and ‘mutlakh el shimal.’ ‘They are better,’ he said, ‘than any of the horses of Nejd, even those of the Anazeh.’ A year or two ago the Sherif, Ali Ibn Mohammed el Barad, had a son who was taken as a hostage by the Turks, and shut up in prison at Hodeida. His father sent men secretly to Hodeida, with five mares, and they got the boy out of prison by dressing him as a girl. They rode away without stopping to Abu-el-Rish, which is one hundred and fifty miles by the map, and the boy and one other arrived, on the fifth day, on two mares of the Khamaïs breed; the other three being of inferior blood, died on the road. These horses are not to be bought even for 1,000 or 2,000 dollars. But the Sheykh thinks Ali el Barad would give me one if I went to see him. The next best breed is in Jôf el Mareb, where Sidi Huseyn, a Sherif of Jôf, has asil horses of the breed ‘el Zahir.’ These are very tall, some bay, and some white. There are also Kehilans, and Abeyans, and Hamdanis, as in Nejd. The old man invited us to stay with him at Marawa, and then pulled a letter from his pocket, which proved to be a very ingenious begging letter, in verse, calling upon me as protector of the Moslems to help him, a poor Sherif, to build three houses for his three sons to settle them in life. I gave him one hundred rupees, whereupon he rose and politely departed.
“Two young Mohammedans next called, Mohammed Abd el Gaffar and another. The former wanted permission to translate the ‘Wind and the Whirlwind’ into Urdu verse, which I readily gave him. I shall put him into communication with Sidi Lebbe, at Kandy, as he seems good with his pen, and is correspondent of the ‘Abu Nadara.’
“Kazi Raza Huseyn also came with a friend from Patna to invite us to stay with him while there. He is Kadi of Patna, and we shall thus enjoy Mohammedan hospitality, the first, I should fancy, that for many years has been offered to an Englishman in India. Our other visitors were Abd-el-Rahman Ibn Abd-el-Latif, Ferid-ed-Din, and Akbar Huseyn. Ferid-ed-Din will announce our arrival at Allahabad on the 10th, and will receive us at Cawnpore on the 14th.
“Rajah Nil Krishna, son of the Maharajah of Krishna, came to invite us to attend a meeting on Indian education at his father’s house on Saturday. He talked strongly and bitterly of the disappointment of the Indians at receiving no practical help from Lord Ripon. ‘Why did they teach us to read about liberty and justice and self-government,’ he said, ‘if after all we are to have none of these things?’
“We called in the afternoon on Mrs. Ilbert, but missed seeing her husband. Hunter, the statistician, was there, and I tackled him as to his figures on the land assessment. He maintained them to be correct, and said that, as to the Madras Presidency, he had taken them from official reports. But like everybody else he did not know Madras. He admitted, however, that the land assessment of the Deccan was a blot on our Indian administration. I said: ‘A very large blot,’ for the Deccan is half India. He then referred me to Mr. Quinton, who was sitting near, as the first authority on land assessment. But, on inquiry, I found he, too, knew nothing of Madras, and seemed to have his ideas confined to Bengal, the North-West Provinces, and the Zemindar system prevalent there. I told him that every native, without exception, put the land assessment at from forty to fifty, or even sixty per cent. on the gross produce. But he would have it that it must mean the net produce. In districts of the north, where the permanent settlement does not act, the assessment is calculated on the rent received by the Zemindar. They do not seem, either of them, to understand that in three parts out of four of India there are no Zemindars, and the Government is sole landlord. Also they talk as if the irrigated districts were the rule, not the exception. Hunter is, nevertheless, evidently a very able man, and anxious to hear the views of outsiders. He offered to show me the whole of the land question in Bengal in a single afternoon’s visit to some villages near Calcutta.[9]
“At night there was a full dress party at Government House, all the native nobility and notability present. I made acquaintance with several new people, among others the Maharajah of Krishna, an intelligent and distinguished man, besides meeting most of our native acquaintance. I noticed that both Abd-el-Latif and Amir Ali were rather shy of being seen talking to me, the latter especially, but, as I had something to say, I took possession of him and made him sit down with me. I told him my university plans, and found him at first rather huffy about it. He said that no Mohammedan in India cared for a merely religious education, but was vexed when I hinted that there were some of them who cared only for success in life. He did not believe anybody would subscribe. He had tried to get subscriptions for educational schemes and had failed. While we were talking Lord Ripon came by, and Amir Ali jumped up and pretended not to belong to me. But when he saw that Lord Ripon stopped to talk to me he became more cordial. And, afterwards, I got him into good humour by telling him, as a great secret, of the Hyderabad scheme. He first objected that the Hyderabad State was going to ruin; but I told him that would be soon set right, and that the Nizam was interested in the university, and he said, if that was the case it would succeed, and promised to help it on in every way in his power. I told him that my idea was that great latitude should be given to religious differences of opinion, and he might have a school of rationalism there if he chose.
“Lord Ripon was very amiable, and expressed a hope that he might see us at Hyderabad on the occasion of the installation; so I conclude the Nizam has told him we are expected. Salar Jung also told me he had spoken to the Nizam, and found him ready to support the university scheme. Keay made a successful speech this afternoon at the Town Hall, but I did not go, as he did not specially ask me to be there, and I had heard all his arguments already.
“4th Jan.—We had no visits to-day, but went to Government House at 11 o’clock to hear the Ilbert debate. It was a tame affair, but not altogether uninteresting. The Viceroy and Councillors sit round a large table, and the spectators, allowed in by ticket, sit also round, at a little distance, on chairs. Ilbert, who is a little, rather young looking man, related the history of the bill, slurring over the compromise as much as possible. Mrs. Ilbert was sitting next to us. Then Hunter spoke, quoting some words of Malabari’s in the ‘Indian Spectator’ as an evidence that native opinion accepted the compromise. I asked him afterwards if he really thought this sentence represented either the general opinion, or even Malabari’s own opinion, and he said he supposed so. Amir Ali next gave his opinion in a speech which, I think, was the best made, though it was wonderfully different from his private talk. He introduced, however, very cleverly a letter the Queen had written at the time of the Proclamation, which was very effective, and he reserved his attack on the compromise for the Select Committee. He told me afterwards that he had been promised to have his amendments paid attention to if he would only support the Bill. I think he would have done better to speak his mind. Kristodas Pal was as unsatisfactory. He dared not speak out and tell the Council how angry his people, the Hindus, were, and though he made some pertinent remarks on details, his speech was feeble. Hunter told me they had got hold of him with difficulty, but he would vote with them. All this is very disappointing, though I was not prepared for much, and I confess the commercial man representing the planters’ interests stood out well in contrast, for he threatened the Council with new agitation if the letter of the compromise was not adherred to. We then adjourned to luncheon, and after luncheon somebody discovered that an important clause in the Bill might be read in two contradictory ways, and the debate was again adjourned to Monday. The Nizam and his court were present—very much interested, as it seemed, in all that was going on. I had talk with several members of the Council, and found them all with the idea that there was no real excitement among the natives on the question. They will never see anything until the fire breaks out.