Mr Watts is a namby-pamby, shilly-shallying sort of man. He has good intentions, is accessible, kind, considerate. But he cannot make up his mind. The capacity to come to right and swift decisions is the chief asset of an executive in any sphere of responsibility. It is a quality in which Watts sorely lacks. He allows himself to be the sport of conflicting views and rival disputants … If he keeps a firmer hold on the reins of his office, he would be hailed as an agreeable contrast to his immediate predecessor … Mr Raghavaiah had the spirit of a Torquemada—cold, fierce, ruthless. His grasp was simian, his execution thorough. Such a man does Mr Watts succeed. Raghavaiah was strong, but not sympathetic; Mr Watts is sympathetic, but not strong. Raghavaiah respected public opinion by flouting it; Mr Watts flouts public opinion by respecting it. Raghavaiah revelled in swimming upstream; Mr Watts floats with the current and gets into eddies. That is the difference.61
In other words, the Dewan was not perceived as powerful, partly due to his own attitude of accommodation. This was to an extent the reason why the government could be coerced and dragooned in the matter of the Brooke Bond scheme by a group of hysterical politicians. But it was also feared that it would all reflect rather badly on Sethu Lakshmi Bayi. As O.M. Thomas, who was unusually generous in praise when it came to her, noted, the Maharani was ‘unfortunate in her constituted adviser’. For ‘If administration were only a matter of making sentimental speeches, Mr Watts, the Dewan, would be hard to beat. The art of government is a trifle more severe an exercise; and in that art he, by common consent, has not impressed us with more than indifferent abilities.’62 ‘All that the people of Travancore desire with unanimous sincerity,’ he alerted, ‘is that Mr Watts should not cause a “rift in the Lute” which will make Her Highness’ “music mute”. Let him but talk less, act more, and keep his temper; and he will yet not fail, though he may not quite succeed.’63
What with Mr Watts’s tendency towards bombastic and demonstrative expression, there were few signs, at the commencement of his tenure, of his relations with Sethu Lakshmi Bayi being anything but satisfactory. He was extravagant in articulating his loyalty and avowed devotion to her, and in a newspaper interview admitted that he regarded his appointment ‘as due purely and solely’ to the ‘personal considerations’ of the Maharani.64 She too, for her part, went out of her way to make him comfortable, not least because everyone else in the state seemed hostile to him and she had to make it clear that he enjoyed her fullest confidence. In 1926, when his mother died, both she and the Valiya Koil Tampuran treated him with considerable kindness, and he wrote to them thereafter how eager he was to ‘prove my deep appreciation of your large heartedness’ and to serve as a loyal and efficient Dewan.65
But as his critics noted, his sentimental words did not match his actions and sometimes Mr Watts displayed an almost childish petulance. His first conflict of sorts with the Maharani emerged when only months after his arrival he desired a revision of his pay, and to raise it from Rs 2,000 per month to Rs 3,000. When Sethu Lakshmi Bayi expressed her reluctance to move in this matter so soon, he had his sister press upon her. Miss Watts was careful to add, however, that whatever her decision might be, ‘it is not going to make any difference in my brother’s attitude or loyalty to you, nor in mine’.66 ‘I am very sorry at the distress this affair is causing you,’ she added. ‘I understand only too well the feelings on both sides—how you feel tied down by public opinion and how hurt my brother feels at being less than those former Dewans and less too than some of the officers under him.’67 Eventually, seeing how delicate the matter was for Mr Watts, the Maharani raised his salary to Rs 2,500, before he had completed even a year in service, telling a somewhat disapproving Mr Cotton that the desire was entirely hers and there had been no application from the Dewan.68 ‘Two friends may have a difference of opinion and [yet] remain friends,’ Miss Watts noted awkwardly, betraying her own discomfort at being put in the middle of all this.69
Despite this unusual favour being shown to make him comfortable in the state, the Dewan proved to be perpetually sensitive about his position. When he heard an ‘absurd story’ that Mr Cotton wrote to the Government of India that there would be no peace in Travancore while he was in office, Mr Watts took it as a personal affront and asked him to ‘tell me the truth and not beat about the bush or try to do the diplomatic stunt’. He was, he dramatically declared, prepared to ‘pack up my trunks and make room for a better man’ if the Resident found him wanting as the Dewan. Mr Cotton was somewhat amused by this overreaction, confirming to Mr Watts that the only thing he had told his superiors in Delhi was that as ‘the Nairs have become tired of baiting the Valiya Koil Tampuran’, they were now focusing on the Dewan, demanding his ‘immediate removal’ from the state. He, as Resident, was ‘more than satisfied’ with Mr Watts’s service so far.70
By 1927, however, the Maharani began to tire of her Dewan’s infantile moods and Mr Cotton recorded that she was ‘less well disposed’ towards him than before. It also did not help that within the government too Mr Watts, with his inability to assert himself, was allowing coteries to develop. There was, besides the ever-present network of Nairs, also an unfavourable ‘Syrian Christian Triumvirate’ comprising the Chief Secretary, Dr Mary, and the famous writer O.M. Cherian who were ‘for the moment in high favour’ with the Maharani, according to sources of the Resident.71 She did not, however, allow them to supersede the Dewan and when efforts were made to suggest a Syrian Christian nominee as a possible replacement to Mr Watts, the group were swiftly put in their place. And soon the Chief Secretary who was deplored for representing communalism ‘in its extreme form’ against the Nairs, apologised to the Dewan for trying to ‘short circuit’ him.72 But these internal government manoeuvres leaked into the public domain and were blown out of proportion as always, and before long it was out and about that Mr Watts was retiring to London as ‘Stores Purchaser’ for the government, even as ‘local prophets’ sprang up predicting the next Dewan.73 The rumours did, however, have an effect on the Nairs. Partisan newspapers that had ‘hitherto shown no respect’ for Mr Watts were now ‘actually urging his retention’ while their more extremist affiliates ‘prophesy communal riots and even revolution if a Syrian Christian succeeds to the Dewanship’.74 Everyone in Travancore, it seemed, had an amiable penchant for the dramatic.
By April that year, however, the Maharani and the Dewan were again having trouble on account of the fact that she did not support him more openly with his pet Brooke Bond Scheme. Another administrative project on which they disagreed more seriously concerned the extension of railways in Travancore. Mr Watts had plans to extend the existing railway line from Quilon to the Cochin Harbour to facilitate easy movement of goods, and from Trivandrum to Nagercoil for southward connectivity as well. The Maharani had given her consent in principle to this and a survey had been conducted under a special railway engineer.75 But when it came to implementation, Sethu Lakshmi Bayi did not think it wise to commence work during her regime. She felt that the project, which ‘involves heavy borrowing of capital’, might or might not be successful. ‘Just now to embark on it looks like a leap in the dark,’ she pointed out, adding that since her administration was to last only a few years, whereas liabilities would weigh on the treasury for longer, constraining the hands of her successor, ‘I do not wish to take the risk.’76 Again, as a result, Mr Watts felt aggrieved and the air was full of rumours about him having threatened to resign upon ‘finding no support for his ambitious railway programme from the Maharani’.77
In June 1927 Sethu Lakshmi Bayi confirmed to Mr Cotton that the Dewan no longer appeared up to the mark.78 ‘Mr Watts and the Palace have exchanged cordial letters,’ recorded the Resident, ‘but there is no doubt that he is no longer in favour and that if he threatened resignation, [he] would be taken at his word. He seems to realise this,’ it was added, ‘for he has decided not to make the railway programme a question of confidence.’79 The fact was that for quite some time the Dewan had been hinting a
t resigning every time he and the Maharani disagreed, and Sethu Lakshmi Bayi had had enough of this game. The Nairs, however, sensing a rift between the Maharani and her minister jumped at a potential opportunity to win him over now, and in what was a hilarious incident, ‘asked him to believe that they were now convinced that he was the Nairs’ best friend and assured him that they would support him in and outside the [Legislative] Council’, if he wanted to pass anything despite the Maharani’s objections.80 Of course, as in the usual way of politics in Travancore, this friendly façade did not last, and by August that year the very same Nairs were ‘concentrating in a mass offensive’ against him, seeing how he and the Maharani had resolved their differences.81 Indeed, by September the Dewan clarified both to Sethu Lakshmi Bayi and to the Resident that he was eager to serve beyond his original three-year tenure, giving the impression that things were better between him and the Maharani.82 By early 1928 she confirmed that she was happy to grant him a one-year extension of service, and newspapers speculated that it was ‘probable that he will in fact be Dewan until after the Regency.’83 Whatever quarrels they had had, both appeared to be able to handle them professionally.
But Sethu Lakshmi Bayi had reasons other than satisfaction with Mr Watts’s output and competence for granting him this extension. The extent of tension in their relations was actually extremely severe, and although the Dewan himself had at first requested a second term, when the Maharani formally offered it to him, he first turned it down somewhat impulsively. In a curt letter, he declared that ‘my decision must be against remaining in office after the close of my present term’.84 The Maharani then invited his sister for a discussion and impressed upon her the necessity that the Dewan make a rational choice, so that the very next day Mr Watts changed his mind. He had not been happy that he was again offered the same salary and terms, but claimed he was willing to overlook this. ‘In view of the generous sentiments Your Highness was pleased to express to my sister last night, I shall be glad to stay on as Dewan so long as I command Your Highness’ confidence in my judgment, trust, and fidelity, and belief in the disinterestedness of my advice. All that I hope for is that Your Highness will open your mind to me more freely in official matters.’85 The Maharani accepted his change of heart and typically ostentatious pledge of devout loyalty, making it clear in response, however, exactly why she had not been able to see eye to eye with him recently and what he needed to do to make amends:
I shall send you a copy of the memorandum left by the late Maharajah for the guidance of the Dewan in his dealings with the Ruler, with a few supplementary clauses, which I shall add, and think that with this at hand for ready reference the difficulty of knowing which of the papers passing through your hands need to be informally submitted to me, will be obviated, and consequently the possibility of a misunderstanding will be greatly minimised. Something has to be done to prevent long delays in the disposal of papers, which at the present moment have become a subject of general comment. I hope you will be able to tackle this question and suggest measures that will ensure a reasonably quick disposal.86
The matter was that Mr Watts had not been referring matters to the Maharani as she expected to be done, and had been slow in his pace of conducting government business. The allegations of ‘shilly-shallying’ and not being able to make up his mind, were not unfounded, and the Resident was compelled to ask whether ‘Mr Watts has given any undertaking that he will work more methodically in future, and not issue orders without obtaining Your Highness’ prior approval?’87 As it happened, the Dewan did not quite improve in his ways and by September 1928 the Resident had to again report that while he was on decent terms with Sethu Lakshmi Bayi, ‘it is said that his interviews with the Maharani Regent have not been as frequent as formerly was the case’.88 Both sides were making their best efforts to create an impression of blissful harmony and understanding, despite relations deteriorating with every passing month. The extension of tenure to Mr Watts in fact even led to protests by the Nairs in the capital, and for quite some time two newspapers were engaged in an outstanding public battle for and against the Dewan. Their disagreement was not so much a matter of principle, however, and the only reason the Daily News was anxious to support Mr Watts was because its owner had recently received a government contract, while The Express vociferated against him for having lost that very contract.89
The real reason, however, for the Maharani’s decision to retain the Dewan in spite of difficulties in working with him was that Mr Cotton’s term as Resident was soon to end, and a new British representative was to arrive in Travancore. ‘You will doubtless appreciate,’ she wrote to the incumbent, ‘that in making this proposal [to continue with Watts] a desire to avoid anything like an unsettlement in the country which the appointment of a new Dewan usually creates, especially after it has nearly returned to tranquillity, and a consideration of the unwisdom [sic] of having a new Dewan when the Resident is also new, have considerably influenced me.’90 She, in other words, would be placed in an extremely vulnerable situation if both the Resident and her minister were men inexperienced in tackling sharks in the political waters of Travancore. But this was a temporary measure. When asked if it was possible that Mr Watts would continue for a period beyond the already approved one-year extension, the Maharani clarified that ‘save under exceptional circumstances’ she had no plans of the sort, adding somewhat dryly that while he was able, ‘perhaps due to indifferent health, there is [still] a delay in the disposal of papers’.91
In August that year the new Resident conferred with Sethu Lakshmi Bayi on the problem that Mr Watts had become. ‘I had an interview with Her Highness last evening,’ he wrote to his superiors, ‘and she tells me that Mr Watts’s manner towards her savours of dictation; that in spite of her orders, he frequently sanctions estimates for works which she has distinctly told him she does not approve of; incidentally, she mentioned that he had told the inhabitants of certain villages that he would give them new schools, and this without consulting her.’92 In a written communiqué to him, the Maharani expressly stated that she could not help but pull up her Dewan for ‘his easy irritability, growing tendency to import personal prejudices into official actions, and fondness for initiating measures not only without my previous concurrence but sometimes contrary to explicit instructions’. It was all ‘making it increasingly difficult for me to get on with him’ and what worried her particularly was that ‘Mr Watts’s intransigence and unfriendliness would appear in a particularly lurid light when it is remembered that in appointing him Dewan, I went against the wishes of the entire people of Travancore … not to speak of the fearfully scurrilous attacks I was subjected to in the newspapers here and elsewhere.’93
The straw that really broke the camel’s back, then, was a jarring dispute over the selection of the new Director of Public Instruction. The officer-in-charge had been unwell for much of 1928 and was unlikely to continue for much longer. Mr Watts desired to appoint the European principal of the Science College to the post, while the Maharani had in mind Rangaswami Iyengar, the principal of the Arts College. While ostensibly the Dewan opposed this on the grounds that the confirmation of ‘a very orthodox Brahmin’ would result invariably in complaints from other communities,94 the Maharani knew that in reality his grudge was personal. He in turn insisted that her endorsement of Iyengar was ‘the job of a Brahmin Clique that had gotten hold in the palace’. But what Sethu Lakshmi Bayi really wanted was a real confrontation with Mr Watts to put an end, for once and forever, the simmering, underhand resentment on his part. ‘I could perceive,’ the Resident put down, ‘that Her Highness was very anxious to bring matters to a head between herself and Mr Watts, and that the latter should resign.’95 In other words she had had enough of his defiance of her authority, and had been especially agitated by ‘a letter or rather a memorandum from Mr Watts to her, in which he stated that if this appointment was made, he would be unable to continue his duties’.96 The Dewan had even written a similar letter to the Res
ident, stating that this ‘appointment is a trial of strength between him and his political opponents’.97
It was patent, however, that the real issue was that the Dewan had had a longstanding quarrel with Iyengar, which began with his sister who, sometime ago, had such a falling out with the man that she had resigned from her post in the Department of Education, refusing to serve ‘even three months’ under him.98 Sethu Lakshmi Bayi, despite her friendship with Miss Watts, did not interfere, and stood by her officer since he was not at fault in all this. The grudge, then, was transferred to Mr Watts from his sister, which again the Maharani failed to countenance. Writing to the Resident she made it clear that she was unwilling to ‘sacrifice Iyengar on the ground that the Dewan has taken a prejudice against the man’, fearing that ‘it might create an impression that the criterion of a man’s competence lay not so much in his merits, as whether he is in the good graces of the Dewan or not. So in the interests of the state,’ she concluded with unusual vehemence, Mr Watts’s challenge of resignation ‘has to be accepted’. She was not, however, blind to the possible problems this could create. For she continued:
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