of British soldiers in India, and the absolute command of the sea. If anyone disputes this proposition, let him consider what would happen to Indian securities, public or private, if the Prime Minister announced in the House his intention to follow in India the precedent of Canada, and to recall the British forces. Or let him imagine a case more easily conceivable—the advent of a new army reformer whose ingenuity had contrived a scheme under which no reinforcements for India could be obtained.
I may be accused of tilting against an imaginary foe, and with some truth, for no responsible person, as I have said, has proposed, or would propose, to reduce the garrison of India. On the contrary, the Premier has declared that the work of the British army is the defence of Afghanistan. But I have noticed in some quarters a disposition to treat India in the case of an emergency as these islands were dealt with in the Boer War, and to trust everything to the civil police and a sprinkling of troops.
In maintaining that British power in India is founded on British bayonets, I am far from suggesting that force is its only support. It rests, if not primarily, at least equally, on its character for justice, toleration, and careful consideration of native feeling. I believe that if we turned aside from the path we have followed so long and consistently; if we adopted methods of religious propaganda or outraged caste prejudices—for example, if we enforced the reading of the Bible in the schools or let loose upon the country a body of enthusiastic sanitary experts from Europe—all the rifles that England could maintain would not suffice to keep the people down. We have had warnings of late years in these directions. In the early stages of the plague the Government of India pressed their measures of sanitation, especially in connection with police interference, beyond the limit of prudence. Fortunately, when they felt something hard they withdrew their hand and relaxed their pressure. The people were
