A Nation in Making/Chapter 32

​32

My Return to India and Ministerial Appointment

I returned to India in September, 1919, after an absence of over four months, during which time I claim to have spared no effort to serve the interests with which I was entrusted. It was a crowded season of strenuous work, in which all of us did our best. Now and then we had to face disappointments, the most notable of which was when one of our members went out of his way to plead for a second chamber in the new constitution, without the authority of the party. It was a surprise, and there was a feeling that there should be a public disavowal of this view from our party. This idea, however, was subsequently dropped, and no harm was done by our inaction. We have a second chamber in the Council of State, in connexion with the Central Government; and, in view of developments that are taking place, it may perhaps be worth while considering the question as to whether the restraining, and sometimes perhaps the compelling, influence of an upper House may not be needed in the machinery of the Provincial Governments. The question may have to be considered by the Parliamentary Committee which will be sent out to report upon the Government of India Act.

The welcome that I received on my return home in 1919 was sensibly less in warmth than those which had greeted me on former occasions of a similar nature. The work was perhaps more important than any I had done before in England. It was in one sense a partial consummation of our previous efforts; and yet it did not produce anything like the impression of old. The reason was not far to seek. Non-Co-operation had done its work by creating a profound sense of mistrust in British promises and pledges among a certain section of our people, despite evidence of earnest effort to redeem them. It was in such an atmosphere that the Reform Scheme had to be launched into operation. It was in such an atmosphere and amid surroundings so unpropitious that the first General Elections under the new Act were held. There were the ​forces of Non-Co-operation appealing to the electors not to vote and to the candidates not to stand. The name of religion was invoked, and Muslim electors and candidates were solemnly told by the doctors of their religion that it would be wicked and contrary to the injunctions of their sacred books to participate in any shape or form in the approaching elections. No wonder that some of their best men hesitated; and I was approached by a Mohamedan leader, who recently held a high position in the Government, with the request that I should appeal to Lord Ronaldshay to extend the time for the nominations of Mohamedan candidates. I made the request. It was granted; and thus it was possible for some of the Mohamedan leaders, who otherwise would have been left out, to join the Council. At that time, Non-Co-operation stuck to the formula of the triple boycott, including that of the Council, which was shunned as an unclean thing. So far, however, as the Hindus were concerned, the feeling against Council entry was confined to the professed Non-Co-operators and did not affect the bulk of the men of light and leading. The last Council was thus fairly representative of that element.

The question of entering the Councils on the part of Non-Co- operators was a subsequent development. It was due mainly to the failure of the cult. When it was quite apparent, even to the avowed advocates of Non-Co-operation, that they had achieved nothing on the constructive side, and that their career had been marked by unrest and rowdyism, sometimes accompanied by bloodshed—drawing tears of penitence from their leaders—a departure was initiated, in the name of Non-Co-operation. It was diplomatic in its conception. The pill was gilded. But the old label was retained. It was still Non-Co-operation, but of a type which in the opinion of a powerful wing of the party cut at the root of the cult. Council entry was resolved upon, but for the ends of obstruction and the wrecking of the Councils. It was to be co-operation at the start, non-co-operation in its operative part; and the wrecking of the Reforms as the sequel.

These methods were soon in full swing with varying success in the different provinces. It failed everywhere except in the Central Provinces and Bengal. In the Central Provinces it was completely successful; and in Bengal only partially so. What the ultimate result will be, it is difficult to anticipate. The future is on the knees of the gods. But we well know—it is a matter of common experience—that those who come to curse often remain to bless; and the last ​chapter in the evolution of Non-Co-operation may eclipse, in its kaleidoscopic transformation, the amazing developments of the past. The most persistent Non-Co-operator may yet be the most ardent of co-operators. Orthodox non-co-operation may develop into responsive co-operation.

Before I pass on to my active work in connexion with the Reforms, let me interrupt the narrative by reference to my associa- tion with a movement which is helping to draw Europeans and Indians together—I mean the Rotary Club.

Whatever may be the opinion about the merits of the Reforms—and here I frankly admit that there is considerable room for diffe- rences—it must be admitted by all that they have been largely instrumental in establishing better relations between Europeans and Indians than existed before. With the advent of the Reforms there came the recognition on the part of the European community of the equal status of Indians with them as fellow-subjects of the Empire. This is apparent from the writings of the European Press and the utterances of prominent European leaders. The same whole- some change is observable in our social relations, where a sense of ease and equality is the dominant note. On the Indian side the sober section of our people are beginning to realize that for good or for evil—for good as I believe—Europeans and Indians have to live together, and that we should make the best of the situation. With this conviction on both sides, our relations are bound to improve, to our mutual advantage.

A feature of the present situation has for me a personal aspect to which I must refer. In the pre-reform days, I was perhaps the one Indian who, above all others, excited feelings the reverse of friendly in the mind of the European community. I had no quarrel; the feeling was perfectly natural. I was the most persistent and the most outspoken among living Indian agitators, denouncing the Government for its shortcomings, and the European community for its narrowness of vision and its attachment to its special privi- leges. Further, we did not know one another sufficiently well, and ignorance is the mother of all that makes for hatred and resentment. Things have changed since then. Our angle of vision has changed with closer contact and with better knowledge. In public work and in helping the Reforms, we have become col- leagues, and the feeling between European and Indian leaders is being gradually transformed into one of mutual esteem and respect.

While these momentous changes were silently shaping themselves ​in the bosom of society, European and Indian, and were struggling for outward expression, I received an invitation from the Rotary Club to be their guest at one of their lunch parties, and to speak.

The Rotary Club is a world-wide organization and has an im- portant centre in Calcutta. It was an honour that I greatly appre- ciated, and the reception that was accorded to me was as hearty as any that I had received from an Indian gathering. The atmos- phere was inspiring. I saw many new faces, but they were beaming with friendliness, and when I rose to address the gathering, which was large and enthusiastic, I felt that I was not merely an Indian but a Rotarian, with a cosmopolitan outlook and surrounded by friends who would overlook my faults. Let me quote a passage from my speech:

The Club marked its appreciation of my speech by making me an honorary member, a position that I still hold; and, though my preoccupations do not afford me the opportunity of frequent atten- dance at its sittings, I deem it an honour to be associated with a club with a world-wide organization and holding a high status. The Club serves a useful purpose in strengthening those bonds between Europeans and Indians so necessary for the good of India and of the Empire.

Let me now resume the thread of my narrative. I stood as a candidate for election to the Bengal Legislative Council from the municipalities in the Barrackpore Sub-division. I was returned unopposed. In an interview with the Governor, Lord Ronaldshay, soon after my election, I was offered the post of a Minister, and ​the choice of any portfolio that I preferred. The offer was not unexpected, though perhaps I did not anticipate that it would be made at that interview. It was in the air, and was the subject of common conversation. I accepted the offer and suggested that, as regards my subjects, I should like to have Education and Local Self-government. Lord Ronaldshay pointed out that such a com- bination was impossible in view of the arrangement of the work in the Secretariat. He sent for Mr. Gourlay, his Private Secretary, and obtained from him a printed list of the division of the port- folios, and showed it to me, adding that he would send me a copy later. I said that provisionally I would accept Local Self-govern- ment, with which was linked up the Medical Department, but I requested that His Excellency would give me time for further consideration and final decision. This was readily complied with, and Lord Ronaldshay thanked me for taking up Local Self-govern- ment, in which he was greatly interested and which he largely controlled.

In the course of the conversation His Excellency raised the question as to who should be my Hindu colleague, for he had already made up his mind that there should be three ministers, two Hindus and one Mohamedan. I had no hesitation in suggest- ing the name of Mr. P. C. Mitter. The only doubt that Lord Ronaldshay felt about the matter was that Mr. Mitter was not an educationist. I explained to him that every graduate of the Calcutta University was more or less familiar with our educational pro- blems, and that Mr. Mitter had been for a number of years Secre- tary of the South Suburban School, one of the largest educational institutions in Calcutta, teaching at the time up to the Matriculation standard. The impression left on my mind was that he would prefer an educational expert, and was thinking of one outside the elected members of the Council. I pointed out that that would be contrary to the intentions of the Statute, and he seemed to agree.

He said nothing about the Mohamedan member. In a conver- sation I had with him a few days before, he had spoken to me about Dr. Abdulla Surhawardy as a highly cultured and intellec- tual Mohamedan. Dr. Surhawardy had been appointed by the Bengal Government. a co-opted member on the Franchise Com- mittee, Mr. P. C. Mitter holding a similar position on the Functions Committee. But in the meantime, while other Mohamedan leaders, swayed by the torrential gusts of the Khilafat movement, were wavering between co-operation and non-co-operation, Nawab ​Newab Ali Chowdhury had published a striking pamphlet over his name, in which he marshalled with convincing force and the skill of a practised controversialist the arguments against Non-Co-ope- ration. Coming from a Mohamedan leader of his position and at such a time, it was bound to make a great impression. Lord Ronaldshay wanted a representative from East Bengal among his Ministers; and here was a Mohamedan gentleman, of high social position, from that part of the country, who had definitely made up his mind—and made no secret of it—to co-operate with the Government and work for the Reforms. Courage is a valuable quality in politics, and the Nawab Sahib had shown it. I was there- fore not surprised when I read in the newspapers the announce- ment. that Nawab Newab Ali Chowdhury had been appointed Minister.

Between him and ourselves, his Hindu colleagues, the personal relations were friendly and even cordial; and, on the whole, in the business of Government, there was a general agreement. We often acted together and we tried to help one another. We entered into no binding agreement, no solemn league and covenant as in a neighbouring province; but here our personal relations were so satisfactory, that anything like a pact became unnecessary, and mutual trust and confidence became the cement of our union in the performance of our public duties. In our union, spontaneous and 'cordial, in the high functions of Government, is afforded evidence of the powerlessness of the disruptive influence of communal forces, when dominated and controlled by mutual goodwill and confidence.

Only in one matter was there any marked difference and despite the practical lesson afforded by our joint action as Ministers. That was in connexion with the question of communal representa- tion. The Nawab Sahib and Sir Abdur Rahim, member of the Executive Council, were both its active and thoroughgoing suppor- ters; and we, the Hindu Ministers, were as whole-heartedly opposed to it. Our Mohamedan colleagues would make no compromise. We, on the other hand, with the traditional tolerance of our race, exhibited a spirit of compromise even in regard to so vital a matter, provided the goal, which was the ultimate disappearance of com- munal representation, was brought nearer. Nawab Newab Ali Chowdhury and myself were not long before arrayed in hostile camps. I was one of the leaders of the anti-Partition agitation; he was warm in his support of the Partition. For years we fought against one another; but we carried no traces of our struggle into ​our ministerial work. We were both content to forget and forgive, and to unite in the common work that lay before us, which, in its ultimate results, would benefit Hindus and Mohamedans alike.

It is, however, useless to disguise the fact that the Nawab Sahib's appointment as Minister caused dissatisfaction in certain quarters. Some Mohamedan leaders felt aggrieved that one, perhaps not their equal in respect of literary qualifications, should, in preference to them, have been the recipient of so exalted a trust. The feeling was natural, but perhaps not reasonable. High literary qualifica- tions, Eastern or Western, or both combined, do not necessarily connote the possession of administrative capacity. Statesmanship is a peculiar gift, sometimes natural, but oftener the product of common sense, tempered by prudence, broadened by a wide general outlook, and dominated by the recognition of the para- mount claims of justice. Of Frederick the Great it was said that he would never employ a schoolmaster in any administrative post; and the story is told, and I heard it from the great Vidyasagar, that one of the early Lieutenant-Governors of Bengal would not appoint a schoolmaster as a Deputy Magistrate, but was persuaded on the insistence of the Pundit to make his one solitary departure from this policy.

Nor in this connexion should the fact be forgotten that some of Asia's greatest men were illiterate. Mohamed and Akbar, Sivaji and Hyder Ali, Ranjit Singh and Jung Bahadur compose a galaxy of brilliant men, the like of whom the world has not witnessed among the most illustrious group of literates. Let us not deprecate culture, but let us not exalt it beyond its merits. It is not for me, however, to make a pronouncement on the administration of a colleague; but the highest authority, no less than the Governor of the province himself, has recorded an emphatic eulogy. A similar pronouncement has been made by the same high authority in regard to my Hindu colleague, Mr. (now Sir) Provash Chunder Mitter. But his ability or fitness and even his culture was never questioned, though there was one member of Council who felt aggrieved that Mr. Mitter had been preferred to him, and laid the blame on me. I bore it without the slightest perturbation of mind, and listened to the indictment with a good-humoured laugh.

Before I proceed further, let me pause for a moment to trace the genesis of my relations with Lord Ronaldshay. They began, if I may so put it, in strife and contention, which, by a happy transformation, developed, so far as I am concerned, into warm ​personal regard and esteem for the late Governor of Bengal. The controversy was thrust upon us through no fault of ours. Scriptum manet—what is written endures and is remembered. Lord Ronaldshay had written a book on his Eastern travels, in which he referred in disparaging terms to the ethical code of Eastern nations. These reflections were very much on the lines of Lord Curzon's pronouncement on the character of Oriental nations that gave such offence to our people and was the subject of a Town Hall demonstration under the presidency of the late Sir Rash Behari Ghose. To have in Bengal, at the head of our province, a statesman belonging to the same school was viewed with lively apprehension. The Press and the public bodies were alarmed. The matter was taken up by the Indian Association, and on its behalf I wired to Mr. Austen Chamberlain, who was then Secretary of State, asking him to cancel the appointment. It was a unique proposal made for the first time by any public body in India. But feeling ran high, and we viewed with concern the prospect of a renewal of the Curzon regime in our domestic and provincial concerns. I likewise wired and wrote to Sir William Wedderburn, the Nestor of Indian politicians, who was the guiding spirit of the British Committee of the Indian National Congress in London. Sir William placed himself in communication with the Secretary of State, and, if I remember rightly, with Lord Ronaldshay himself, and obtained from him a reassuring message which, I believe, was repeated in an address delivered by him at a meeting of the East Indian Association. The controversy should have ended here, but there are die-hards in every camp, and when feelings have been roused it is not always so easy to control or to restrain them. It was even suggested that we should hold a public demonstration. The idea was given up on my insistence, and the wisdom of this course was abundantly justified by subsequent events. The whole lesson of my public life has been that extremism, however captivating, does not pay in the long run; and that in politics, as Edmund Burke has observed, prudence is a sovereign virtue.

On March 31, 1917, Lord Carmichael's term of office expired and in the following month Lord Ronaldshay became Governor of Bengal. The message of August 20, 1917, had not yet come. But the signs and portents seemed to point to the near advent of a coming change. Coming events cast their shadows before, and, in replying to an address presented on December 23, 1916, by a deputation of the Indian Association, of which I was the spokes​man, Lord Chelmsford, who was then Viceroy, said: 'I hope some day to see India hold a position of equality among the sister nations of which the British Empire is composed. In this respect I earnestly invite your co-operation.' Here was a forecast of the message that was to follow and was to be delivered from the floor of the House of Commons in August, 1917. The temper of the administration was changing; and we were on the threshold of great happenings.

It was at such a time that Lord Ronaldshay became Governor of Bengal. He succeeded a ruler of great popularity, whose extension of office the people of Bengal would have welcomed. Indeed, there was a talk of presenting a petition to that effect. There was certainly a considerable body of feeling behind it. Lord Carmichael was a Radical of an advanced type, with genuine sympathy for Indian aspirations, of which he gave clear proof in his evidence before the Joint Parliamentary Committee. He was prepared, he said, to go beyond the Montagu-Chelmsford Report if the Viceroy and the Secretary of State approved. He was not remarkable for administrative vigour, and even while presiding at meetings of the Legislative Council, his periods of somnolence were not infrequent, though it must be admitted that Council speeches, in those days, and even now, delivered as they are for the most part from typed manuscripts, have a profoundly soporific effect upon the audience.

Soon after Lord Carmichael's arrival in Bengal in April, 1912, I remember to have discussed with him at Darjeeling the affairs of the Calcutta Municipality, with a view to the amendment of the Act. Mr. Payne, so well known as Chairman of the Calcutta Corporation, was appointed on special duty, but nothing was done during Lord Carmichael's term of office. A Bill was introduced in 1917, but was withdrawn, and the Act was not amended till 1923. However that may have been, Lord Carmichael's personality had a profoundly soothing effect on Bengal politics, at a time when they were more or less disturbed. He was the personal friend of almost every man of note in Bengal, and they were charmed with his courage, and candour, and his sympathy with Indian aspirations. He combined the shrewdness of the Scotchman with his love of freedom. I remember his telling somebody, 'I am not sure I would not be doing what some of these Extremists are up to if I were a Bengalee.' Frank talk like this on the part of the Governor of a province disarmed opposition, won the hearts of his visitors and ​inspired confidence. It was the charm of his personality and the influence which it broadcasted that constituted perhaps the most valuable asset of the Government.

To be popular after such a ruler was a task of some difficulty. But Lord Ronaldshay proved himself equal to it. To my surprise, soon after his arrival in Calcutta, I received a letter from Mr. Gourlay, Private Secretary, inviting me to meet Lord Ronaldshay at Government House. The usual procedure was not followed in this case. Anyone seeking an interview with the Governor has to write to the Private Secretary. In my case the interview was fixed by Mr. Gourlay on his own initiative or that of His Excellency. The message was a command, and I appeared at Government House on the day and hour fixed. I was received with kindness and courtesy, and during the whole of the interview not the slightest reference was made to my messages to the Secretary of State or Sir William Wedderburn. The conversation proceeded upon lines of general interest, affecting the present situation, and I parted, with my estimate of Lord Ronaldshay materially modified. It was the first of many interviews, and they were all as pleasant as this one.