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The Story of My Experiments with Truth/Part III/The Test
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| ←The Storm | An Autobiography or The Story of my Experiments with Truth ~ The Test written by Mohandas K. Gandhi | The Calm After the Storm→ |
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, my family and I 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 anyone 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.
As soon as we landed, some youngsters recognized 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 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. Someone 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.
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 realize 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.
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.'
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 the 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?
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.
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.
Whilst I had been thus effecting my escape Mr. Alexander had kept the crowd amused by singing
the tune: 'Hang old Gandhi On the sour apple tree.' When he was informed of my safe arrival at
the police station, he thus broke the news to the crowd: 'Well, your victim had 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.
'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.'
The crowed 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 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.'
To which I gave the following reply:
'I do not want to prosecute anyone. 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 anyone to book. I am sure that, when the truth becomes
known, they will be sorry for their conduct.'
'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 and 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
considerable help me in restoring quiet, besides enhancing your own reputation.'
'Thank you,' said I. 'I need not consult anyone. 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.'
With this I gave him the necessary statement.
