In 1882, newspapers were typically delivered between 1 p.m. and 4 p.m., The Indian Daily News delivering time is around 2 p.m. However, due to the slower means of communication in the late 19th century, the dissemination of news took time. By the time the explosive content of the Indian Daily News reached the British government in Calcutta, it was already around 8 p.m.
The reaction of British dignitaries to the revelations in the Indian Daily News was complex and multifaceted, exposing a spectrum of emotions ranging from defensiveness to a sense of urgency.
Viceroy and Governor-General Lord Ripon was one of the first to respond. Known for his more liberal approach compared to previous governors, Ripon understood the dangerous implications of the newspaper's content. Upon hearing the news, he immediately convened a meeting with his advisors. "This is dangerous," he remarked gravely. He was concerned about potential unrest and the impact it could have on British rule. Determined to contain the situation, he pushed for a strategic response, which included limiting the newspaper's distribution and mobilizing local law enforcement to monitor dissent.
Lord Kimberley, Secretary of State for India, reacted with outrage. As the official responsible for overseeing British policy in India, Kimberley was intent on protecting the Empire's image. He proposed issuing a public statement denouncing the Indian Daily News as a purveyor of lies and subversive propaganda. "These claims are exaggerated—clearly a calculated effort to undermine British rule," he argued. Keen to protect the government's reputation, he suggested launching an investigation into the newspaper's ownership and funding sources. "We must also engage with other newspapers to discredit this one," he recommended.
General Sir Donald Stewart, the British Commander-in-Chief in India, expressed deep concern about the potential for riots or uprisings. "The last thing we need is for these revelations to stir the masses," he warned during the meeting. Stewart called for increased military readiness, proposing martial law in case of emergency. He urged local commanders to prepare for any eventuality, emphasizing that unrest could spread even to the troops if not carefully managed.
However, Lord Kimberley questioned the immediate need for martial law. "I believe we should first investigate this newspaper thoroughly. It seems unlikely they could have obtained this information without insiders. If we deploy the military now, it may only raise their vigilence. It's better to discredit them through legal and public channels, which could prevent escalation while giving us time to uncover those behind it," he argued. Lord Ripon, favoring a more measured approach, agreed with Kimberley, leaving General Stewart no choice but to step back from his proposal of martial law.
By 9:30 p.m., the meeting concluded, and Kimberley's plan was adopted. Before dismissing the officials, Lord Ripon stated, "Begin the investigation tomorrow, and I expect results within a day."
In British social circles, the news ignited heated discussions. At a dinner party hosted by Lady Margaret Althorpe, prominent British socialites debated the moral implications of colonial rule. Lady Margaret, known for her advocacy of reform, lamented, "If we do not change our approach, we risk losing not only India but our own humanity." Her words resonated with some, while others remained defensive, insisting that British presence was beneficial to India.
Margaret, Viscountess Althorpe, born Margaret Elizabeth Ricketts in 1854, was a notable British socialite and author. After marrying John Spencer, the 5th Earl Spencer, she became Lady Margaret Althorpe. Active in the literary scene, she published novels and essays addressing social and cultural issues of the time. Her influence in aristocratic circles allowed her to shape opinions on women's rights and social reform. Lady Margaret was part of a growing movement among upper-class women engaging in intellectual discourse, a significant shift during the Victorian era, when women began to assert their voices in society.
Meanwhile, British merchants in India grew increasingly anxious as whispers of unrest reached their ears. For them, the news published in The Indian Daily News was not just a political concern—it was a direct threat to their profits. Their fortunes, built on the back of India's vast resources and labor, now seemed fragile as dissent simmered beneath the surface. The merchants feared that if the content of the newspaper stirred mass agitation, trade routes would be disrupted, and their carefully constructed financial empire would crumble.
At an emergency meeting of the British Indian Association, the tension in the room was palpable. Faces flushed with worry, the merchants discussed the implications of the revelations with mounting dread. One merchant, his voice trembling, stood up and exclaimed, "If the people rise against us, what will become of our businesses? What of our investments, our families back in England who rely on this trade?" His question hung in the air like a dark cloud.
There was a murmur of agreement, though not all were united in their approach. Some, led by an older, seasoned merchant named Sir Henry Caldwell, suggested taking a softer approach. "We must act swiftly, yes," he said, "but force alone may worsen the situation. I propose we invest in local goodwill initiatives—build schools, sponsor festivals, and provide employment. It could calm the situation and remind the locals of the benefits we bring."
Caldwell's proposal was met with mixed reactions. A younger, more aggressive merchant, James Whitford, sneered. "You think a few festivals and charity will stop a revolution? These people don't want schools, they want power. Our generosity won't save us if we don't take action now. What we need is a firm hand—show them that rebellion will cost them dearly."
As the debate raged on, uncertainty loomed. On one hand, the merchants recognized that brutal repression could spark further outrage. On the other, they feared that without immediate intervention, the wave of discontent might reach their doorstep, or worse, their coffers. The idea of losing everything to a rebellion in a land they had come to rule with confidence was unthinkable.
Ultimately, the meeting ended without a clear resolution. A compromise was proposed: some would invest in local goodwill, while others would privately petition the British authorities to increase security in key commercial hubs. But there was no denying the undercurrent of fear—The Indian Daily News had exposed more than just the cracks in British governance; it had exposed the merchants' vulnerability.
As the merchants dispersed into the humid Calcutta night, another storm was brewing. Across the city, Mehbub was preparing to set his plan into motion. He had watched the British rulers closely, studying their weaknesses. This growing unrest presented the perfect opportunity to strike.