It is only really in matters of foreign policy that a Viceroy is almost compelled to form his own decisions. Then again there is the constant pressure exercised by the Secretary of State. Every mail the Viceroy writes a long letter to the Secretary of State at home, and every mail he receives a letter containing the views and decisions of the latter. Also long cypher telegrams are continually passing between the two, so that the policy or decision and acts of a Viceroy are very often not his own, but have been dictated to him by the Secretary of State. It is well, however, to bear in mind that if things go wrong, it is the Viceroy who is abused by the British public, the Press, and quite possibly by the Secretary of State as well. It does not as a rule take a Viceroy very long to find out Secretaries of State are not infallible, and that it is a risky business to go against the opinions of his members of Council, each of whom have the key to the whole situation, and is on the spot, while the Secretary of State is not, and has to judge by documentary evidence, not always at first hand, and naturally robbed of the atmosphere surrounding the matter requiring decision. All who have any knowledge of diplomatic situations and work, know what an important part this plays, and how misleading a written temperature may be to those not present and therefore unable to keep their finger on the pulse of the moment.
This may sound as if it had nothing to do with the subject of these memories, but as a matter of fact it has. It was because Lord William so thoroughly appreciated the worries and difficulties surrounding the life of those he was serving, and because he was always ready to help in any way possible outside his own particular calling, that he became so valued by them all. He could be relied upon to carry out, and see through, any tiresome social problem, could be depended on to remember and produce almost verbatim established precedents of the time he had been in India and some time before, as he had closely studied Indian history on his arrival in the country. How clearly he had mastered detail was proved to me several times later in his career.
Once in London, I think in June, 1885, if I remember rightly, when speaking to him of the different castes and their faiths, I was much interested and surprised at the feeling way he spoke of and in a measure appreciated their feelings, of the Parsees, whom he described as the Jews of India, with their great wealth and expenditure, endowing schools, building hospitals, and taking part in many great financial undertakings, so full of soul and feeling, that they will not allow their dead to pollute the earth, yet do not hesitate to offer up the human bodies of those they loved as plunder and food to the disgusting, flesh-eating vultures, who sit watching the white road leading from the City of Bombay to the “Tower of Silence.” It is revolting to hear the cry of those almost featherless, horrid-looking birds, as they see another pathetic procession winding its way up the hill. Of the Hindus, who while considering it wicked and cruel to kill, and against their religion, still will work their cattle until unable to stand any longer, and then leave them to die of thirst and misery, rather than put them out of their pain. Animals in India are supposed to possess souls, and are worshipped, that being the case one wonders they dare so ill-treat them.