A Nation in Making/Chapter 25

​25

Passive Resistance

All wings of the nationalist party were now united; and educated Islam joined hands with them on the Congress platform. Never did the prospects of effective and united work seem more hopeful. But the ancient divisions and methods of action which have their roots in temperament and human nature, and even in personal ambitions, were not to be effaced in a day; and they were soon apparent in the work of the Congress. Mrs. Besant, who had hitherto identified herself with the work of the Theosophical Society and the Hindu Educational movement, joined the Congress held in Madras in 1914. Her eloquence, her forceful personality, her indefatigable industry, and her power of organization, soon made themselves felt. She had a considerable hand in bringing about the union of the different wings of the Nationalist party. She travelled from one part of India to the other, held personal interviews with the different Indian leaders and was in close correspondence with some of them.

When the Congress met in Bombay in 1915, she called a meeting to consider the question of the formation of a Home Rule League. It was to be an organization to carry on propaganda work in connexion with the question of Home Rule or Self-Government. I presided at the meetings of this conference. The general feeling at the time was that such an organization would serve to overlap and perhaps weaken the Congress. The Home Rule League was not then formed. The idea, however, was not given up by Mrs. Besant, and the League was subsequently organized.

I have no desire to re-awaken the memories of events which are now well-nigh forgotten, but I must say that the League served to create the first division in the Congress camp after the reunion. I did not join it, nor did many of the ex-Presidents of the Congress. I incurred some unpopularity. But unpopularity is an inconstant factor in public life, and I was not afraid to run the risk of facing ​it, in comradeship with colleagues, now, alas, dead, and in what I conceived to be the best interests of the country. I had helped to build up the Congress. It was a part of my life work, my pride and .my privilege, and it was not in me to do aught which, in my opinion, would weaken its influence or the position which it occupied in the estimation of the country.

Never was the pressure brought on me to join the Home Rule League greater or more persistant than after Mrs. Besant's internment. I was then a candidate for a seat in the Imperial Legislative Council. A voter, who was a friend, wrote to me that unless I joined the Home Rule League he would not vote for me. I took no notice of the offer or the threat. The Secretary of the Home Rule League wrote to me to say that if I joined the League I should be unanimously elected President of the Calcutta Branch and my election to the Imperial Council would be unopposed. In my public life, I never allowed myself to be daunted by the frowns or seduced by the smiles of power. And even when the dispensation of favour lay in the hands of friends or colleagues I acted on the same principle, and was not to be deterred from my purpose or from fulfilling the behests of my conviction, by threats or by inducements.

Great as is my reverence for Mrs. Besant and my admiration for her public work, my objection to joining the Home Rule League was not in any way minimized by her internment. But I readily and whole-heartedly associated myself with the public protests against this unfortunate measure. I presided at two protest meetings, one held at the Indian Association rooms and the other at the Town Hall of Calcutta, and as strongly condemned her internment as any Home Rule Leaguer. The internment of Mrs. Besant was the origin of the movement for her election as President of the Congress of 1917. The first visible sign of disunion among the members of the Nationalist party after the Lucknow Congress was, as I have observed, the formation of the Home Rule League and the second was the movement for the election of Mrs. Besant as President of the Congress. The internment of a gifted lady who was serving the motherland with unexampled devotion set the whole country ablaze with excitement. The general feeling was that by her internment the Government sought to aim a deadly blow at the agitation for self-government, which she had so vigorously championed; and the utterances of provincial rulers, which had a wonderful family likeness in their tone of disparagement, if not of ridicule, of our aspirations for self-government, deepened the ​public impression and intensified the public agitation.

It is no exaggeration to say that it was the Government that set in motion the impulse that placed Mrs. Besant in the presidential chair of the Congress. That has often been the way of bureaucracies, which, living in an atmosphere of their own and out of touch with the popular forces, have failed to gauge their strength and volume and have eventually been overwhelmed by them. Could the, bureaucracy have anticipated the agitation that Mrs. Besant's internment gave rise to, it would probably have left her alone. The Madras Government had indeed an Indian member on the Executive Council. But he had been through life a bureaucrat, and his appointment as a member of the Government failed to satisfy the one condition that Lord Morley had in view in his scheme of reform, namely, to place the highest Councils of the Government in touch with popular opinion. However that may be, the mistake was committed. It was indeed a blunder; it was persisted in for a time; but, with the appointment of Mr. Montagu as Secretary of State for India, a new atmosphere was created in the India Office, and Mrs. Besant was released, attesting once again the growing power of public opinion in India. This was further illustrated in a curious fashion in Bengal by a side issue of some moment.

Mrs. Besant's internment brought to the forefront the question of passive resistance. With whom it originated it is difficult to say. Possibly the idea was Mr. Gandhi's; at any rate Pundit Madan Mohan Malavya came down to Calcutta and discussed it at an informal meeting of friends. I was not present, as I was at Ranchi for a change and rest. I understood that the sense of my Bengal friends was opposed to passive resistance as a political weapon to be now employed. At a meeting of the All-India Congress Committee held soon after in Bombay, the question was discussed. As senior ex-President, I presided. There was a fairly strong party in favour of passive resistance. Our Bengal friends, however—the majority of them, at any rate—were all opposed to it. It was a difficult situation to deal with and at a private meeting we arranged our plans. When confronted with a trying situation I have always found it useful to have recourse to Fabian tactics. I suggested the postponement of the question, referring the matter to the Provincial Congress Committees. Time would thus be gained; the prevailing excitement would pass away; and reason and common sense would assert themselves. This proved to be a wise course to have followed.

Mr. (now Sir) Provash Chunder Mitter was entrusted with the ​Resolution that we drafted. The feeling was high on the day when the question first came up for discussion. I allowed full scope to the debate, which had to be postponed on account of the lateness of the hour; and, as I anticipated, the temperature was much cooler on the following morning when we met and the discussion was resumed. Speaker after speaker followed, until Mr. Tilak suggested that a committee should be appointed to consider the question. That was Sir Provash Chunder Mitter's opportunity, and he moved that the matter, in view of its importance, be referred to the Provincial Congress Committee for report. A time-limit was fixed for the report: it was to be the first week of October. The motion was carried with practical unanimity; and, as the event showed, a difficult situation was saved. Everything pointed to an early pronouncement by the Government on the question of self-government; and if the pronouncement was made before the meeting of the All-India Congress Committee in October, the excitement and irritation which lay at the root of the idea of passive resistance would be allayed.

We in Bengal, who had passed through the ordeal of fire in connexion with the anti-Partition and the Swadeshi agitation, knew the difficulties that surrounded a movement of defiance of authority culminating in the violation of official orders, legal or illegal. The incidents of the Barisal Conference (where we followed a policy of passive resistance), the nameless insults offered to respectable people at Sirajgung, Banaripara and elsewhere, the persecution of Swadeshi workers under the guise of the maintenance of law and order, were all still fresh in our minds; and we felt that passive resistance could not succeed unless there was an overwhelming body of public feeling behind it and there were many who would be willing to suffer for the cause which had provoked it. We were not sure that these conditions existed in the present case; and we were glad of a postponement, which allowed time for thought and reconsideration, and, as we hoped, for the development of a situation that would make passive resistance unnecessary and undesirable.

In the meantime in Bengal the question had assumed an acute form owing to circumstances which I shall presently relate. I have already referred to the meeting held at the Indian Association rooms to protest against Mrs. Besant's internment. It was held in a hurry and was in the nature of a preliminary conference, delegates from the mofussil not having been invited. It was therefore resolved to ​hold a Town Hall meeting at a subsequent date, to be convened by the Sheriff, in which representatives from the mofussil were to be asked to take part. A requisition was duly signed and presented to the Sheriff. The date of the meeting was fixed and Sir Rash Behari Ghose was to preside.

All of a sudden the public learnt that the meeting had been forbidden by the Government. The principal requisitionists were invited by the Hon. Mr. Cumming to meet him, and the orders of Government were communicated to them. One of the aston- ishing reasons for the prohibition of the meeting was that the orders of the Government of one province could not be allowed to be criticized by the people of another province. This new doctrine of inter-provincial amenity had never been heard of before. Everybody laughed at it; everybody knew that that was not the real explanation, which was withheld under a plea, the hollowness of which was transparent. The explanation was the subject of ridicule in the newspapers. It certainly did not improve the position of the Government, but added to the public discontent. We were at the time in Bombay attending a meeting of the All-India Congress Committee. I sent a wire urging the summoning of a conference on our return, and we hurried back as fast as we could.

The Conference was held on the day after my return to Calcutta; and it was largely attended. There was, alas, one prominent personality who was absent and who was never again to appear in our public meetings. Two days before, Mr. Rasool had died suddenly of heart failure, while he was in the thick of the preparations for the wedding of his only daughter. Many of us were thus assembled at the Conference under the shadow of a personal bereavement. I was in the chair. The excitement was great, and it grew as the discussion proceeded. Everybody who spoke vowed that he was prepared to resist the order of Government and go to jail if necessary. Obviously, if the forbidden meeting were held, a collision between the promoters and the police would be inevitable.

At last, after a good deal of animated discussion, it was resolved that six of us should retire and formulate a method of action, which was to be accepted by the Conference without demur. The gentlemen thus honoured were the elders of the Conference. They were Sir Rash Behari Ghose, Babu Motilal Ghose, Mr. Byomekesh Chakravarti, Mr. C. R. Das, Mr. Fazlul Huq and myself. We withdrew to an ante-room for about an hour, and unanimously agreed that we should wait in deputation upon Lord Ronaldshay at Dacca, ​where His Excellency the Governor then was, explain the situation to him, and appeal to him to cancel the order of prohibition. We felt that we should give the Government an opportunity of withdrawing from an untenable position, and that, if we failed, then and then only should we have recourse to passive resistance and hold the Town Hall meeting in defiance of the Government order.

We returned to the Conference Hall with this decision, and Mr. Byomekesh Chakravarti was charged to explain it. He did so with the tact and skill of an old and practised lawyer. But, as always happens when an audience is excited, counsels of moderation failed to impress them. We were subjected to a good deal of heckling. Our decision evidently did not commend itself to the majority of the Conference, who were all for holding the meeting and for the conflict with the police that must follow. How many would have stood the test, if the collision had actually taken place, is more than I can say. I have some recollection of those who, with bold language on their lips and defiance in their mien, ran away as fast as their legs could carry them when the police dispersed the procession in connexion with the Barisal Conference. The times have changed; nevertheless the frenzy for incarceration and the mad fury for cheap notoriety is confined to a limited class.

The Conference broke up without a decision; but it was understood that we were to go as a deputation, though without the formal authorization of the Conference. I at once placed myself in communication with Mr. Gourlay, the Governor's Private Secretary, and a day was appointed for the Deputation. We were to be received on the day immediately following a meeting of the Legislative Council to be held at Dacca. Many of the Indian members of the Legislative Council wanted to join the Deputation; but the number was limited to six, and I think it was a wise decision, regard being had to the confidential talk we had with the Governor, which perhaps a larger deputation would have prevented. In the meantime, the air was full of wild proposals of protests against the prohibition of the Town Hall meeting. One of them was that the Indian members should all abstain from attending the meeting of the Legislative Council. This idea was seriously discussed on board the steamer that carried most of the members to Dacca. Nothing could have been more unwise on the eve of a settlement and when a deputation was about to be received on the subject. I mention it only to show how extreme views are apt to find currency and even ​predominance when the public mind is thrown into a state of excitement by the unwisdom of the Government.

Our deputation was received by Lord Ronaldshay, at Government House at Dacca, with courtesy and cordiality. The deputation consisted of Mr. Byomekesh Chakravarti, Mr. C. R. Das, Mr. Fazlul Huq, Dr. Nilratan Sircar, Babu Surendranath Roy, and myself. The first question asked by Lord Ronaldshay was who was to be our spokesman. Mr. Chakravarti mentioned my name. The political atmosphere in Bengal had not yet become charged with the feelings which the subsequent controversy about Mrs. Besant's election to the presidency of the Congress evoked.

Lord Ronaldshay came fully prepared with all the official papers bearing on the matter. His Excellency opened the discussion, and it soon became apparent that all talk about inter-provincial amenities, about the undesirability of the people of one province criticizing the actions of the ruler of another, was moonshine. The real grounds for the prohibition were disclosed with perfect candour. They were not indeed convincing, but they were plausible enough. What prompted the order for prohibition was that at a meeting of the Home Rule League (at which, the Governor added, addressing me, 'You were not present') language was used to which the Government took strong exception; and it was apprehended that at the Town Hall meeting, the speakers being substantially the same, similar language would be employed and addressed to a much larger audience of young men; and this would do great harm. 'I have not prohibited' added Lord Ronaldshay significantly, 'the attendance of students at public meetings as has been done in other provinces.'

Lord Ronaldshay began reading out extracts from the reports of C.I.D. officers who were present at the meeting of the Home Rule league referred to above. Whether the proceedings were correctly reported or not, it is impossible to say; but, if the notes were substantially correct, the language used was highly improper. One speaker, who was often in requisition at public meetings held by the authorities themselves, was reported to have advised the young men present to adopt the tactics of the Anusilan Samiti, which had been suppressed, advocating the employment of force. This speaker, said the report, added that the English were a handful in this country, while they, the children of the soil, could be counted by lakhs; and yet this handful of foreigners were our masters. Another speaker addressing the Home Rule meeting said that he ​must speak in English, as he did not trust the translated reports of the C.I.D. officers. This observation seemed to me to be perfectly innocuous, and I said so, especially as the same speaker on a former occasion had to complain of an inaccurate report of his speech by the C.I.D. To this His Excellency said in reply that it meant a reflection upon the C.I.D., about which the Government felt a natural concern, as the officers of the C.I.D. had too often been singled out for the vengeance of the revolutionary party.

I said in the course of the conversation that the fact that Sir Rash Behari Ghose was to have presided was a guarantee that the proceedings of the meeting would be conducted upon moderate and reasonable lines. Lord Ronaldshay observed that they were not aware of this fact. I said that it could have been easily ascertained. His Excellency was throughout frank and reasonable; and he said that, if we gave a guarantee that no inflammatory language would be used and that the meeting would be properly conducted, he would withdraw the order of prohibition. We replied that we could give no undertaking, but that we would do our best to carry out His Excellency's wishes, and we added that there was always an implied understanding on the part of the organizers of public meetings that they should be conducted upon proper and reasonable lines. The upshot of it all was that the prohibition was to be with- drawn, subject to the assurance we gave.

We returned home gratified with our success. But I, for one, was not altogether free from doubt as to the sort of welcome that would be accorded to us. In Bengal, even the most indubitable achievement is not always a passport to unqualified public approval. When the Partition of Bengal was modified, and when all thought that the voice of dissent would be drowned in a chorus of public appreciation, there were those who regretted that Behar should have been separated from Bengal, and there were many more to whom the transfer of the capital came as a shock. I was therefore fully prepared for comment and criticism, especially in view of what had transpired at the conference, which broke up without a decision.

Our representative character was challenged, and one of those who had taken a leading part in our deliberations and had allowed himself to be nominated as a member of the Deputation, was loud in his protestations of our want of representative authority. But in this world nothing succeeds like success. The withdrawal of the prohibition was a point gained, the value of which could not be questioned. The public are not, or are only temporarily, concerned ​with side issues of a personal character, which may for the time being tickle their nerves, or satisfy their innate love of scandal. But the fit soon passes away and reason and common sense assert themselves as the normal attitude of the public mind. It was suggested that we should hold another conference and tell them what had passed. I set my face against it, for I anticipated a repetition of the heckling, the quarrelling and wrangling of the last Conference. I proposed a Town Hall meeting; for I felt that such a meeting would, by its size, its publicity and its representative character, minimize the play of personal passions and even of partisan prejudice. I was right in this view.

A public meeting at the Town Hall was held; it was the old prohibited meeting, with the glamour of success achieved over the obstructiveness of official authority. It was a vindication of our indefensible right to hold meetings so long as there was the fair promise of the observance of a constitutional procedure. In the absence of Sir Rash Behari Ghose, I was asked to preside, and I accepted the invitation. Mine was the only speech; none other was made. That was the universal sense of the meeting and it was cheerfully acquiesced in. I took advantage of this opportunity to explain the character of the Deputation that I had the honour to lead. I believe that what I said at the Town Hall meeting in this connexion met with general approval; and I cannot resist the temptation of quoting it here:

Thus was averted what threatened to be a crisis in the history of our public movements. Collisions with the Government I am, and have never been, afraid of, provided that the cause is just, that it has behind it a strong body of public opinion, and that it may not lead to a measure of repression beyond our strength to endure and which may retard our growing public spirit. The repressive measures following the anarchical movement in Bengal had a blighting effect upon the growth of our public life, because the hand of repression was too heavy for us to bear. The all-pervading influence of the police, to which our public men were subjected, the long terms of imprisonment inflicted on some of our young men, and the suppression of the Samitis, all had a disastrous effect upon the growth of our nascent public life. But perhaps I have travelled a little beyond the period with which I was dealing when I was led into this somewhat lengthy digression.