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598 taxes, and is not the power of Government based on our money? Why not ask for an account to be rendered? But why, oh why does not the cow brandish her horns and ask for an account of the milk that has gone to fatten the plump young hopefuls of her lord and owner?

The simple truth is that methods must vary with circumstances. If the British Prime Minister wants to get some concession out of the French Government, he does not try to get the better of the French President in argument, nor does he preach to him high moral doctrine,—he makes some diplomatic move, and for that reason expert diplomats are permanently employed. There is a story that once upon a time when England was friendly with Germany, an English Duke left his seat at dinner to hand a table napkin to the Kaiser — this, it appears, largely advanced his cause. There was also a day when the Englishman had to bow and scrape at the durbar of the great Moghul, smilingly and with infinite patience to put up with repulses, spend any amount of money and toil in gratifying his satellites, in order to gain his object. This sort of thing is inevitable if concessions have to be won from adverse hands.

And yet in this impotent country of ours, what possesses us to think that constitutional agitation will serve with our all-powerful Government? Agitation may raise butter from milk, but not if the milk be in the dairy and the agitation at home. Granted that we are only asking for rights and not favours,—yet when the rights are barred by limitation, that means the same old begging from the man in possession. Our Government is not a machine,—it is run by creatures of flesh and blood, with a good dash of passion in their composition, who have by no means come here purged of all earthly weaknesses. So, to put them in the wrong is not the way to make them mend their ways.

We never pause to consider the nature of our circumstances, of the object of our desires, and the means and methods best fitted thereto. Just as victory is the sole end of war, so is success in gaining the object the end of politics. But even if we admit this in words, we fail to realise it in action. That is why our political meetings are conducted like a debating club, as if the Government is a rival school-boy whom to silence is to defeat! But as men may die under the most scientific treatment, so have we failed of our object in spite of the most splendid oratory.

May I make a personal confession? For my part, I do not worry myself overmuch about what the Government does, or does not, do for us I count it silly to be a-tremble every time there is a rumbling in the clouds. First of all, a thunderbolt may or may not fall, secondly, we are not asked to assist in the counsels of the thunderbolt factory, nor will our supplications determine its course, and lastly, if the thunderbolt is at all to be diverted that cannot be done by making a counter-demonstration of feebler thundering, but only by using the proper scientific appliances. The lightning conductor does not fall from the skies, like the lightning itself; it has to be manufactured patiently, laboriously and skilfully down below, by our own efforts.

It is no use fretting against the laws of nature. The winged ant may complain about the inequity of its getting burnt, but if it flies into the flame, the inevitable will nevertheless happen. So, instead of wasting time over a discussion of the equities, it is better to keep the fire at a respectful distance. The Englishman is determined to maintain his hold upon India at any cost, so that whenever he finds anything working loose he is bound to hammer in a nail or two, promptly and vigorously, in order to fix it firmly again. Merely because we can speak good English or chop subtle logic, he is not likely to give up this very business-like habit of his. And whatever else we may or may not do about it, it is futile to lose our temper.

One thing we should always remember,—how very small we figure in the Englishman’s eyes. He rules us from a remote corner of his vast political arena. All his