The Test

So the ships were brought into the dock and the passengers began to go ashore. But Mr. Escombe had sent word to the captain that as the whites were highly enraged against me, and my life was in danger, I and my family should be advised to land at dusk, when the Port Superintendent Mr. Tatum would escort us home. The captain communicated the message to me, and I agreed to act accordingly. But scarcely half an hour after this Mr. Laughton came to the captain. He said: ‘I would like to take Mr. Gandhi with me, should he have no objection. As the legal adviser of the Agent Company I tell you that you are not bound to carry out the message you have received from Mr. Escombe.’ After this he came to me, and said somewhat to this effect: ‘If you are not afraid, I suggest, that Mrs. Gandhi and the children should drive to Mr. Rustomji’s house, whilst you and I follow them on foot. I do not at all like the idea of your entering the city like a thief in the night. I do not think there is any fear of any one hurting you. Everything is quiet now. The whites have all dispersed. But in any case I am convinced, that you ought not to enter the city stealthily.’ I readily agreed. My wife and children drove safely to Mr. Rustomji’s place. With the captain’s permission I went ashore with Mr. Laughton. Mr. Rustomji’s house was about two miles from the dock.

The ships were brought into the dock, and the passengers began to go ashore. But Mr. Escombe had sent a message to the captain. The white people were furious with me, he said, and my life was in danger. He advised that my family and I land at dusk, when the Port Superintendent, Mr. Tatum, would escort us home. The captain passed the message on to me, and I agreed to follow the advice. But less than half an hour later, Mr. Laughton came to the captain. He said: ‘I would like to take Mr. Gandhi with me, if he has no objection. As legal adviser to the Agent Company, I can tell you that you are not required to follow Mr. Escombe’s advice.’ He then came to me and said something like this: ‘If you are not afraid, I suggest that Mrs. Gandhi and the children drive to Mr. Rustomji’s house. You and I can follow them on foot. I do not like the idea of your entering the city like a thief in the night. I do not think there is any danger of anyone hurting you. Everything is quiet now. The white people have all dispersed. But in any case, I am convinced that you should not enter the city secretly.’ I readily agreed. My wife and children drove safely to Mr. Rustomji’s house. With the captain’s permission, I went ashore with Mr. Laughton. Mr. Rustomji’s house was about two miles from the dock.

As soon as we landed, some youngsters recognised me and shouted, ‘Gandhi, Gandhi.’ About half a dozen men rushed to the spot, and joined in the shouting. Mr. Laughton feared that the crowd might swell, and he hailed a rickshaw. I had never liked the idea of being in a rickshaw. This was to be my first experience. But the youngsters would not let me get into it. They frightened the rickshaw boy out of his life, and he took to his heels. As we went ahead, the crowd continued to swell, until it became impossible to proceed further. They first caught hold of Mr. Laughton, and separated us. Then they pelted me with stones, brickbats and rotten eggs. Some one snatched away my turban, whilst others began to batter and kick me. I fainted and caught hold of the front railings of a house, and stood there to get my breath. But it was impossible. They came upon me boxing and battering. The wife of the Police Superintendent, who knew me, happened to be passing by. The brave lady came up, opened her parasol though there was no sun then, and stood between the crowd and me. This checked the fury of the mob, as it was difficult for them to deliver blows on me without harming Mrs. Alexander.

As soon as we landed, some young people recognized me and shouted, ‘Gandhi, Gandhi.’ About half a dozen men rushed over and joined in the shouting. Mr. Laughton feared that the crowd might grow, so he hailed a rickshaw. I had never liked the idea of riding in a rickshaw. This was to be my first time. But the young people would not let me get in. They terrified the rickshaw boy, and he ran away. As we went on, the crowd kept growing until it became impossible to go any farther. First, they grabbed Mr. Laughton and separated us. Then they threw stones, pieces of brick, and rotten eggs at me. Someone snatched away my turban, while others began to beat and kick me. I fainted and grabbed the front railing of a house. I stood there, trying to catch my breath. But it was impossible. They attacked me again, punching and beating me. The Police Superintendent’s wife, who knew me, happened to be passing by. The brave woman came up and opened her parasol, although there was no sun then. She stood between the crowd and me. This restrained the mob’s fury because they could hardly strike me without harming Mrs. Alexander.

Meanwhile an Indian youth who witnessed the incident had run to the police station. The Police Superintendent Mr. Alexander sent a posse of men to ring me round, and escort me safely to my destination. They arrived in time. The police station lay on our way. As we reached there, the Superintendent asked me to take refuge in the station, but I gratefully declined the offer. ‘They are sure to quiet down when they realise their mistake,’ I said. ‘I have trust in their sense of fairness.’ Escorted by the police I arrived without further harm at Mr. Rustomji’s place. I had bruises all over, but no abrasions except in one place. Dr. Dadibarjor, the ship’s doctor, who was on the spot, rendered the best possible help.

Meanwhile, a young Indian man who saw the incident had run to the police station. The Police Superintendent, Mr. Alexander, sent a group of officers to surround me and escort me safely to my destination. They arrived in time. The police station was on our way. When we reached it, the Superintendent asked me to take refuge there, but I gratefully declined. ‘They are sure to calm down when they realize their mistake,’ I said. ‘I trust their sense of fairness.’ With the police escort, I reached Mr. Rustomji’s place without further harm. I had bruises all over, but only one scrape. Dr. Dadibarjor, the ship’s doctor, was there and gave me the best possible care.

There was quiet inside, but outside the whites surrounded the house. Night was coming on, and the yelling crowd was shouting, ‘We must have Gandhi.’ The quick-sighted Police Superintendent was already there trying to keep the crowds under control, not by threats but by humouring them. But he was not entirely free from anxiety. He sent me a message to this effect: ‘If you would save your friend’s house and property and also your family, you should escape from the house in disguise, as I suggest.’

It was quiet inside, but outside, white people surrounded the house. Night was falling, and the crowd was yelling, ‘We must have Gandhi.’ The quick-thinking Police Superintendent was already there, trying to control the crowd by humoring them rather than threatening them. But he was still anxious. He sent me a message saying: ‘If you want to save your friend’s house and property, as well as your family, you should escape from the house in disguise, as I suggest.’

Thus on one and the same day I was faced with two contradictory positions. When danger to life had been no more than imaginary, Mr. Laughton advised me to launch forth openly. I accepted the advice. When the danger was quite real, another friend gave me contrary advice, and I accepted that too. Who can say, whether I did so because I saw that my life was in jeopardy, or because I did not want to put my friend’s life and property, or the lives of my wife and children, in danger? Who can say for certain, that I was right both when I faced the crowd in the first instance bravely, as it was said, and when I escaped from it in disguise?

So, on the same day, I faced two conflicting situations. When the danger to my life was only imagined, Mr. Laughton advised me to go out openly. I accepted his advice. When the danger was real, another friend gave me the opposite advice, and I accepted that too. Who can say why I did so? Was it because I saw that my life was in danger? Or was it because I did not want to endanger my friend’s life and property, or my wife and children? Who can say for certain that I was right both times? First I faced the crowd bravely, as people said, and then I escaped from the crowd in disguise.

It is idle to adjudicate upon the right and wrong of incidents that have already happened. It is useful to understand them, and if possible, to learn a lesson from them for the future. It is difficult to say for certain how a particular man would act in a particular set of circumstances. We can also see, that judging a man from his outward act is no more than a doubtful inference inasmuch as it is not based on sufficient data.

There is no point in judging the rights and wrongs of events that have already happened. It is useful to understand them and, if possible, learn a lesson from them for the future. It is difficult to say for certain how a particular person would act in particular circumstances. We can also see that judging a person by outward actions is no more than a doubtful inference. That judgment is not based on enough information.

Be that as it may, the preparations for escape made me forget my injuries. As suggested by the Superintendent, I put on an Indian constable’s uniform and wore on my head a Madrasi scarf, wrapped round a plate to serve as a helmet. Two detectives accompanied me, one of them disguised as an Indian merchant and with his face painted to resemble that of an Indian. I forget the disguise of the other. We reached a neighbouring shop by a by-lane, and making our way through the gunny bags piled in the godown, escaped by the gate of the shop, and threaded our way through the crowd to a carriage, that had been kept for me at the end of the street. In this we drove off to the same police station where Mr. Alexander had offered me refuge a short time before, and I thanked him and the detective officers.

Whatever the case, preparing to escape made me forget my injuries. As the Superintendent suggested, I put on an Indian constable’s uniform. I wrapped a Madrasi scarf around a plate and wore it on my head as a helmet. Two detectives came with me. One was disguised as an Indian merchant, with his face painted to resemble an Indian’s. I forget how the other was disguised. We took a side street to a nearby shop and made our way through the gunny bags piled in its storeroom. We escaped through the shop gate and made our way through the crowd to a carriage waiting for me at the end of the street. We drove to the same police station where Mr. Alexander had offered me refuge a short time earlier. I thanked him and the detective officers.

Whilst I had been thus effecting my escape, Mr. Alexander had kept the crowd amused by singing the tune:

While I was making my escape, Mr. Alexander kept the crowd entertained by singing the tune:

When he was informed of my safe arrival at the police station, he thus broke the news to the crowd: ‘Well, your victim has made good his escape through a neighbouring shop. You had better go home now.’ Some of them were angry, others laughed, some refused to believe the story.

When he heard that I had arrived safely at the police station, he told the crowd: ‘Well, your victim escaped through a nearby shop. You had better go home now.’ Some were angry, others laughed, and some refused to believe the story.

‘Well then,’ said the Superintendent, if you do not believe me, you may appoint one or two representatives, whom I am ready to take inside the house. If they succeed in finding out Gandhi, I will gladly deliver him to you. But if they fail, you must disperse. I am sure that you have no intention of destroying Mr. Rustomji’s house or of harming Mr. Gandhi’s wife and children.’

‘Well then,’ said the Superintendent, ‘if you don’t believe me, you may choose one or two representatives. I’m ready to take them inside the house. If they find Gandhi, I’ll gladly hand him over to you. But if they don’t, you must disperse. I’m sure you don’t intend to destroy Mr. Rustomji’s house or harm Mr. Gandhi’s wife and children.’

The crowd sent their representatives to search the house. They soon returned with disappointing news, and the crowd broke up at last, most of them admiring the Superintendent’s tactful handling of the situation, and a few fretting and fuming.

The crowd sent representatives to search the house. They soon returned with disappointing news, and the crowd finally dispersed. Most admired the Superintendent’s tactful handling of the situation, while a few remained angry and frustrated.

The late Mr. Chamberlain, who was then Secretary of State for the Colonies, cabled asking the Natal Government to prosecute my assailants. Mr. Escombe sent for me, expressed his regret for the injuries I had sustained and said: ‘Believe me, I cannot feel happy over the least little injury done to your person. You had a right to accept Mr. Laughton’s advice, and to face the worst, but I am sure, that if you had considered my suggestion favourably, these sad occurrences would not have happened. If you can identify the assailants, I am prepared to arrest and prosecute them. Mr. Chamberlain also desires me to do so.’

The late Mr. Chamberlain, who was then Secretary of State for the Colonies, sent a telegram. He asked the Natal Government to prosecute my attackers. Mr. Escombe sent for me and said he regretted my injuries. He said: ‘Believe me, I cannot be happy about even the slightest injury done to you. You had a right to accept Mr. Laughton’s advice and face the worst. But I am sure that these sad events would not have happened if you had accepted my suggestion. If you can identify your attackers, I am prepared to arrest and prosecute them. Mr. Chamberlain also wants me to do so.’

To which I gave the following reply:

I replied as follows:

‘I do not want to prosecute any one. It is possible that I may be able to identify one or two of them, but what is the use of getting them punished? Besides I do not hold the assailants to blame. They were given to understand, that I had made exaggerated statements in India about the whites in Natal, and calumniated them. If they believed these reports, it is no wonder that they were enraged. The leaders, and, if you will permit me to say so, you are to blame. You could have guided the people properly, but you also believed Reuter, and assumed that I must have indulged in exaggeration. I do not want to bring any one to book. I am sure that when the truth becomes known, they will be sorry for their conduct.’

‘I do not want to prosecute anyone. I may be able to identify one or two of them, but what good would it do to punish them? Besides, I do not blame the attackers. They had been told that I had made exaggerated statements in India about the whites in Natal and had slandered them. If the attackers believed these reports, it is no wonder they were angry. The leaders are to blame, and, if you will permit me to say so, you are too. You could have guided the people properly, but you also believed Reuter and assumed that I must have exaggerated. I do not want to hold anyone accountable. I am sure that when the truth becomes known, they will be sorry for what they did.’

‘Would you mind giving me this in writing?’ said Mr. Escombe. ‘Because I shall have to cable to Mr. Chamberlain to that effect. I do not want you to make any statement in haste. You may, if you like, consult Mr. Laughton your other friends, before you come to a final decision. I may confess, however, that if you waive the right of bringing your assailants to book, you will considerably help me in restoring quiet, besides enhancing your own reputation.’

‘Would you mind putting this in writing?’ said Mr. Escombe. ‘I will need to send a telegram to Mr. Chamberlain about it. I do not want you to make a statement in haste. If you like, you may consult Mr. Laughton and your other friends before making a final decision. I must admit, though, that if you give up your right to have your attackers prosecuted, you will greatly help me restore calm. You will also improve your own reputation.’

‘Thank you,’ said I. ‘I need not consult any one. I had made my decision in the matter before I came to you. It is my conviction, that I should not prosecute the assailants and I am prepared this moment to reduce my decision to writing.’

‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘I don't need to consult anyone. I made my decision before I came to you. I believe I should not prosecute the attackers, and I am ready to put my decision in writing right now.’

With this I gave him the necessary statement.

With this, I gave him the statement he needed.