Managing religion in colonial India: the British Raj and the Bodh Gaya temple dispute

Journal of Church and State, Summer, 2004 by Ian Copland

THE MAHABODHI TEMPLE

Deep in the heart of the lawless and poverty-stricken Indian state of Bihar, what promises to be

one of the twenty-first century's grandest cultural enterprises is taking shape. At Bodh Gaya,

about a hundred kilometers south of the state capital, Patna, Buddhist monks and laymen from

around the world are hard at work, in concert with Indian and foreign architects and engineers, on

the Maitreya Project--a meditation park whose centrepiece will be a seventeen-story building

topped by a statute of the Buddha taller than New York's Statute of Liberty. The scale and cost of

the Maitreya Project marks it as a very modern manifestation of religions piety. Nevertheless, its

inspiration is ancient. It comes from the Buddhist tradition that identifies Bodh Gaya as the site

where, sometime around 530 BCE, a young man from a princely family named Siddhartha

Gautama found "enlightenment" (bodhi) while sitting under the spreading branches of a pipul

tree--and became the Buddha.

Legend has it that the pipul tree survived the Buddha by more than two centuries. This is not

implausible, given what we know of the stamina of the ficus species. Indeed a Bo-tree still

flourishes on the same spot today, reputedly of the lineage of the original tree--and this one is

already some 120 years old, having been nurtured into life towards the end of the nineteenth

century by a British official. (1) At any rate, the Bodhi tree has been reverenced by Buddhists ever

since, and either within the Buddha's lifetime, or shortly after, pilgrims started to flock to Bodh

Gaya in search of spiritual nourishment. Initially, they probably had to be housed in roughly

constructed rest houses, but soon these gave way to pukka stone-built monasteries, many

endowed by pilgrims from Ceylon (Sri Lanka), which evolved into a vibrant center of Theravada

worship and study. The Chinese pilgrim Fa-hsien, who visited early in the fifth century CE, found

three large monasteries, replete with monks from far and wide, in the vicinity. (2)

Some time after this--possibly around the beginning of the sixth century--a great temple was

raised in the shadow of the sacred tree. It was styled--appropriately--the temple of "Mahabodhi"

("Great Enlightenment"). Since then the original structure has been demolished, rebuilt, and

extensively renovated many times. Nevertheless, this uncertain provenance matters little to the

Buddhists. For them, the Mahabodhi temple represents a visible and concrete link to the religion's

Founding Father.

Today, though, Buddhists no longer exercise exclusive dominion over the Mahabodhi temple. They

are forced to share the site with Hindus, who have included images of some of their gods and

heroes--such as the five Pandava brothers of Mahabharata fame--into the temple and its

precincts, and have appropriated the Bo-tree into their worship as a vehicle for propitiating

ancestors. (3) Indeed, a movement is currently afoot, led by the Vishwa Hindu Parishad (VHP) in

alliance with some state functionaries of the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), and supported by

locally based Hindu sannyasis, to evict all foreign Buddhists from Bodh Gaya and to restrict

access to the complex by Indian Buddhists. William Dalrymple, visiting Bodh Gaya in 1993, was

told by the mahant (abbot) of the Shaivite monastery there: "If the Buddhists continue to make

trouble my men will prevent them staying in this town.... They have no business to be here. The

temple is my place, my property. In it is my God.... This is the country of the Hindus. If then other

religions are to be here, they must be restrained." (4) This openly hegemonic campaign by the

VHP and the BJP has led to several violent clashes in and around the temple between their

followers and mobs of angry Buddhists--most notably in May 1992 when two thousand Buddhist

pilgrims from Maharashtra took it upon themselves to cleanse the temple of Hindu artifacts and

assaulted several Hindu purohits (priests) in the process. (5)

How did this iconic shrine slip from Buddhist control? The temple was designed to last--and it did.

But less than two hundred years after its construction, Buddhism in north India began to decline.

One reason may have been its emphasis on the value of renunciation. While this concern with

austerity probably struck a chord with the very virtuous, it could have intimidated those looking

for an easy road to salvation. For the latter, Hinduism offered a friendlier alternative in the shape

of the emerging cult of bhakti (devotion to a personal god). Another factor may have been the

syncretism that permeated Indian grassroots society and culture at that time--and still does to

some extent. Unaccustomed to seeing beliefs and rituals as fixed, bounded systems, ordinary

Indians tended to look upon Buddhism as just another Hindu sect, the Buddha as just another--

possibly inferior--deity in the very extensive Hindu pantheon. Fa-hsien observed, with some

puzzlement, Hindus joining in Buddhist processions; and the reverse also seems to have occurred.

(6) Significantly, when the Tibetan traveller Dharmasvamin visited the Mahabodhi temple in 1234,

he saw inscribed on the main door what can be identified from his description as an image of

Mahesvara, or Shiva, although he failed to grasp its significance. (7) Later, the cagey brahman

authors of the Puranas fostered and legitimized this misconception by spreading the rumor that

the Buddha was no more or less than the ninth avatar of Vishnu. However, Buddhism did not help

its cause in this respect by embracing, in its last phase, tantric or magical practices which, even if

they were not borrowed from Hinduism--a suggestion vehemently rejected by Buddhist scholars

(8)--made the religion look increasingly like the original article. Third, the decline of Buddhism

was probably helped along by the growing impression--again, doubtless fostered by hostile

brahmans--that Buddhist monasteries were sites of corruption, and that their leisured inhabitants,

the monks, were becoming an insupportable burden on society. Fourth, it has been suggested in a

recent study by Romila Thapar that Buddhism lost ground to (especially) Shaivite Hinduism

because the unworldly monks who constituted the backbone of the faith were ill-equipped to take

advantage of the new economic opportunities that were unfolding at the end of the first

millennium. For example, the agricultural opportunities opened up by the advent of improved

irrigation technology and the massive land-clearing of the north Indian forest wilderness.

Likewise, Thapar thinks that the elaboration that took place, during the Puranic period, of the

ubiquitous and all-encompassing caste system (partly as a foundation for state formation) also

made it harder for caste-denying Buddhism to compete. (9) Be that as it may, it is generally

accepted that what was left of Buddhism, at least in subcontinental South Asia, did not survive

the devastating Muslim conquests of the late twelfth century which destroyed virtually all of its

monasteries (including that of Nalanda, then probably one of the two or three greatest

repositories of knowledge in the whole of Asia) and most of its major shrines, Bodh Gaya among

them.

The first British official to observe the Mahabodhi temple at close quarters was Francis Buchanan

while conducting his pioneering survey of the Patna and Gaya districts in 1811. Buchanan was

chiefly struck by the temple's appearance, which he described as "in the last stages of decay";

but his eye was "also caught by the unexpected sight of numbers of Hindus worshipping there.

(10) Mentioning this to his brahman guide, he was told that, regardless of its origins, the temple

had long since passed out of Buddhist ownership. By the end of the century, Calcutta-based

Hindu nationalists were stridently asserting, ostensibly on the basis of solid archaeological

evidence, that it had always belonged to the Shaivites and that the Buddhists had merely

"managed" it for a short while. (11) Such travesties are today a staple of VHP propaganda.

Fixing the moment when the Mahabodhi temple slipped out of Buddhist control is not all that

difficult. When Dharmasvamin visited the site in 1234, he found the structure in ruinous condition

and only a handful of monks still in residence. (12) Odds are, even this small remnant had

departed by the middle of the thirteenth century. Determining when it became the property of the

Hindus, however, is more complicated. As noted above, the temple main doorway bears an

insignia of Shiva dating from at least the early twelfth century, suggesting that a process of

religious reappropriation was even then underway. But did Shaivite worship at Bodh Gaya

continue after the Buddhists had scattered? Given what we know about the resourceful and

tenacious nature of Hindu folk cults, the notion is not implausible. Yet the only really solid

evidence we have that Hindus continued to frequent the place after the iconoclastic Muslims had

swept through, is a round stone that was discovered nearby during the mid-nineteenth century by

the Archaeological Survey of India. Incised with a representation of the feet of Vishnu, the stone

has been dated to 1308. (13) Against that, local Hindu tradition attests that the site was an

unoccupied, overgrown wilderness when, at the end of the sixteenth century, a wandering ascetic

named Gosain Ghamandi Gir, a member of the Giri sect of Shaivism, happened across it and

claimed it for a refuge. If this story is true, Hinduism did not so much replace Buddhism at Bodh

Gaya, as colonize a long-deserted ruin. (14)

At any rate, there is no question that the latter-day Hindu colonizers of Bodh Gaya made the

most of their opportunity. Ghamandi brought in other sect members and together, the tradition

goes, they "cut down the woods." (15) Some years later, a successor oversaw the construction of

a monastery near the temple. Hereafter, the leaders of the Giri community at Bodh Gaya would

style themselves mahants or "abbots." About 1737, the community's diligence and growing

eminence were rewarded by a firman (grant) from the Mughal emperor assigning the revenues of

the surrounding villages to the mahant. Later in the century, the community was noticed by one

of the rising Hindu Maratha chiefs, who dutifully funded restoration work on the northern and

western faces of the temple. By the time the British arrived on the scene, the Gifts were not only

firmly established in significant numbers at Bodh Gaya--their possession of the site had been

recognized, and to some extent legitimated, by higher political authority.

It did not take the British long to connect the Bodh Gaya site with the story of the Buddha and to

start making inquiries about its checkered past. Francis Buchanan's visit was just the first of many

by interested officials of the East India Company and the Crown between 1811 and 1861 when

Bodh Gaya became the first project of the newly established Archaeological Survey of India.

However, their interest was essentially antiquarian--Orientalist in the older sense of the term.

They were looking for physical evidence to support the theory that India was a cradle of

civilization. They had no religious agenda, and could hardly have suspected that their

"discoveries" would later be used to strengthen colonial control in South Asia by helping the

British mount a hegemonic claim to the "ownership" of Indian "scientific" knowledge. The

situation would have been different if Bodh Gaya had been a center of sedition or a refuge for

brigands; but it remained quiet. The Gifts may not have actively sided with the Company Raj

during the 1857 revolt as they later claimed to have done, (16) but they never, at any stage, put

themselves at odds with the country's new rulers. Nor did Bodh Gaya constitute the site of a

"communal" problem. Riots between Hindus and Muslims, and between antagonistic Hindu sects,

were already causing problems for the authorities in some of the major regional towns such as

Benares and Patna, but the Gifts had no serious rivals at Bodh Gaya. From time to time, Buddhists

from other parts of Asia visited, and in 1833 and 1876 respectively, the Burmese government

sent official missions to Bodh Gaya to appraise the condition of the temple, which was rumored to

be deteriorating rapidly. In the light of the report filed in Ava by the second mission, the Burmese

offered, and were permitted, to make some repairs. But with only a handful of pilgrims visiting

each year, their numbers were never sufficient to pose a physical threat. The Burmese were given

their marching orders in 1878 after it was discovered that their restoration work had done

irreparable damage to some of the temple's ancient carvings.

Following the eviction of the Burmese, the government of India assumed responsibility for the

refurbishment of the Mahabodhi temple. This was done with no intention of facilitating or

promoting Buddhist worship there. First, a commitment of that nature would have infringed

Calcutta's proclaimed policy of scrupulous "neutrality." Second, the government was anxious to

protect the local status quo--whose legitimacy it did not question--in the interest of keeping the

peace. Third, although Calcutta harbored no animus towards Buddhists or Buddhism as such, it

saw no reason to go out on a limb for a "sect" that had "long disappeared from this country"--as

the Archaeological Survey's Rajendralala Mitra put it in 1877. (17)

Secretly, many officials hoped that the Mahabodhi temple might eventually lose its status as an

active place of worship, and become reborn as a secular "monument" to India's classical past. But

any chance of that happening disappeared forever with the appearance of the newly formed

Buddhist Mahabodhi Society in 1891.

THEOSOPHY AND THE BUDDHIST "REVIVAL"

The Mahabodhi Society grew out of the movement for Sinhala national regeneration that arose

towards the end of the nineteenth century in response to the contradictions posed by British

colonial rule. Even as colonialism dazzled and captivated Asia's elites with its vision of progress

and emancipation, it alienated its would-be friends by denying them equality with Europeans on

grounds of race, excluding them from the best paid jobs in administration and the professions,

and pouring scorn on their beliefs and cultures. As time wore on, alienation metamorphosed into

frustration and anger. Eventually, some elites began to strike back at their white ruler-critics by

sponsoring innovative projects of social reform and cultural renaissance, which had the dual

benefit of helping to restore their self-respect and making their societies look less exotic (and

socially "backward"). In colonial Ceylon, the work of cultural revitalization centered on the

"modernization" of the country's mainstream religion, Theravada Buddhism. During the latter

nineteenth century, Ceylonese Buddhism was repackaged, in part under the inspiration of English

author and Orientalist Sir Edwin Arnold (1832-1904) and American Theosophist (18) Henry Steele

Olcott (1832-1907), in a way that emphasized the universality of its core ethical teachings and

presented its theology as unmystical and "rational"--features that made it not only considerably

less "pagan" to Western eyes, but even suggested a distant spiritual kinship with Protestant

Christianity. (19)

The Mahabodhi Society was established in 1891 by a young Sinhala Buddhist named Anagarika

Dharmapala. Coming from a moderately affluent middle class trading family, Dharmapala

received a decent education and might in other circumstances have gone into law or the civil

service, but during his teenage years he developed an abiding dislike and distrust of Europeans,

particularly those connected with the colonial establishment. He would later write, in language

that mimicked and parodied the contemporary rhetoric of scientific racism, that the colonial

British in Ceylon were "low and vile," brutish, heathen, and ignorant. (20) Nevertheless, following

the lead of his parents who were already active in the Buddhist revival movement, Dharmapala

welcomed Olcott and Blavatsky when they visited Ceylon in 1880 and subsequently joined

Olcott's Buddhist Theosophical Society. In common with many other Sinhala nationalists at the

time, the young Dharmapala was captivated by the Theosophists' public endorsement of the

principles of the Buddhist faith, and their enthusiastic support for the Buddhist revival movement.

For the next fifteen and more years, he lived the life of a devoted Theosophist acolyte, often

accompanying Olcott and Blavatsky on their expeditions to religious sites in India.

Given Dharmapala's xenophobic tendencies, and the Theosophists' history of internal wrangling,

the relationship between them was probably doomed from the start. However, it was an external

event that led to the first open rupture between Dharmapala and his chosen "mentors." (21) It

happened on one of the aforementioned tours. In January 1891, Dharmapala laid eyes, for the

first time, on the Mahabodhi temple at Gaya. The sight filled him, Roberts tells us, with "rapture."

By the end of the visit, he had made a solemn vow to spend the rest of his life as an anagarika

(homeless or wandering) religious professional serving humanity. (22) More immediately, though,

Dharmapala came away from the temple acutely distressed at its parlous state and by what he

regarded as its blasphemous appropriation by the Giris, and Filled with a burning desire to put

these obscenities to rights. He would not deviate, he resolved, "until some Buddhist priests come

and take charge of the place." (23) On returning to Colombo, he set up the Mahabodhi Society to

coordinate the work of retribution, recruiting Olcott to its board of directors.

Dharmapala returned to Bodh Gaya in July 1891 with four monks in tow. To his surprise, he

received a warm welcome from the incumbent mahant, Narayan Gift. The mahant made no

attempt to impede the Buddhist party's devotions, and readily agreed to lease them a parcel of

land for the construction of a rest house. Emboldened by Narayan Girl's friendly stance,

Dharmapala in October 1891 waited on the lieutenant governor of Bengal, Sir Charles Elliot, and

put before him a proposal for the reversion of the temple to Buddhist management which Elliot

did not immediately dismiss. (24)

Meanwhile, the Society's efforts had come to the notice of Sir Edwin Arnold in England, who had

already raised the question of the temple's ownership in his 1885 polemic, India Revisited. In July

1891, Arnold wrote to the secretary of state for India, Viscount Cross, and appealed to him to use

his:

all-sufficing power to arrange for the transfer to Buddhist guardianship of the immeasurably

sacred shrine of Buddha at G[a]ya.... I know the spot; I know the Saviat [sic] priest now in charge;

I know the easy and perfectly welcome methods by which the transfer might be amicably

arranged. The Government of India need not disburse a rupee.... I have just received a special

address from the Buddhists about it. (25)

Arnold was confident that the government had the power to impose a settlement at Bodh Gaya,

but given what he had been told by Dharmapala and by the mahant to his own face, he did not

think that would be necessary. It would be enough for the Collector of Gaya to make it known to

the mahant that the proposed transfer was "viewed with satisfaction by the Indian Government."

(26) Informed by the India Office that "neither Sir C. Elliot nor the Viceroy would raise any

objection if a perfectly friendly and voluntary arrangement" was implemented whereby the

Buddhists bought out the Mahant and his followers, Arnold took this somewhat equivocal

response as a sign that the project had the support of the imperial authorities, and he at once

cabled the Mahabodhi Society with the good news. (27) Much encouraged, Dharmapala set to

work soliciting donations from wealthy Buddhists for the temple's purchase and renovation.

Within two years, he had raised 100,000 rupees--which he thought would be enough to cover

"preliminary expenses." By 1893, the Society was ready to finalize negotiations, and in August

Dharmapala traveled to London to acquaint the new secretary of state, the Earl of Kimberley, with

the state of play. Kimberley, like his predecessor, made sympathetic noises. (28)

But just as it seemed that the Society's grand design was about to he realized, the project started

to unravel. In February 1992, the elderly Narayan Giri died, and the position of mahant of the

monastery fell to the much younger Krishna Dayal Girl Being new to the job, Krishna Dayal was

eager to impose his authority on the running of the sect's affairs. Soon after his election, a party

of ascetics invaded the "Burmese" rest house and allegedly beat up several of the monks in

residence. Although the mahant denied having anything to do with the attack, the Buddhists were

not convinced. Then, when Colonel Olcott arrived at Bodh Gaya, cash in hand, in February 1893,

Krishna Dayal coldly informed him that the Giris' hereditary rights in the temple were not for

sale--at any price. Following this, the Saivites turned their attention to the great statute of Buddha

situated on the ground floor of the temple. When the Buddhists entered the sanctuary in July

1894, they found--to their horror--the statue robed and anointed with tilak marks in the manner of

a Hindu deity. (29)

Having failed to gain control of the temple for the Buddhists through direct negotiation with the

Girls, Dharmapala considered other options. One was to seek the assistance of the imperial

authorities--and he still hoped, with Arnold's help, to persuade them to become pro-active.

Another was to engage in some direct action that would focus Indian, and international, attention

on Bodh Gaya, show up the mahant and his followers in a bad light, and perhaps compel the

government to intervene, if only to keep the peace. A year earlier, while on a visit to Japan,

Dharmapala had commissioned the casting of a fine new bronze image of the Buddha with the

intention of installing it in a vacant niche on the second floor of the temple, directly above the

great statue. In early 1894, the new image was delivered to the rest house. Sensing his

opportunity, Dharmapala asked the mahant to "allow him to hold an elaborate ceremony of

installation. As he had hoped and expected, permission was refused--which allowed the canny

campaigner to represent the mahant as obstinate and intolerant. However, this opening

exchange was merely a feint; Dharmapala had no intention, this time around, of sticking to

protocol. In the early hours of the morning of 25 February 1894, the indefatigable anagarika,

accompanied by two Sinhala priests and a lay Buddhist, smuggled the statue past the temple

doorkeeper and placed it on the second floor altar amid a forest of lighted candies in readiness for

formal worship. His idea was to goad the mahant's men into interrupting these devotions, and to

have the "assault" observed by independent witnesses whose word would be believed by the

government.

Krishna Dayal did not let him down. After only a few minutes had passed "about thirty or forty" of

the mahant's sannyasis burst into the upper chamber and proceeded to belabour the Mahabodhi

Society party. A candle was wrestled from the hand of one of the monks, while another was

pushed in the chest. Subsequently, a second group of ascetics entered and "tumultuously carried

off the image of the Buddha." Some time later, the idol was found dumped unceremoniously in a

corner of the temple courtyard below. (30) Thanks to Dharmapala's foresight in tipping off the

police, these unsavory events took place under the scrutiny of the government "custodian" of the

temple, Bepin Behary, and of the sub-registrar and the deputy magistrate of Gaya. On the

strength of their testimonies, Dayal Krishna's henchman, Jaipal Giri, and a dozen other Saivites

belonging to the monastery, were convicted in the court of the District Magistrate of Gaya, D.J.

Macpherson, of the offense of disturbing a religious assembly in the act of worship. Each was

sentenced to a month's imprisonment and ordered to pay a fine of Rs.100. The Buddhists

congratulated themselves on having achieved a signal victory.

However, their joy soon turned to disappointment. The hoped-for official intervention did not

eventuate. Dharmapala had greatly overestimated the extent of Arnold's influence in high places.

More importantly, he had misunderstood the signals conveyed by Cross and Kimberley. Following

the initial approach by Arnold in 1891, London asked the Bengal government to investigate the

Buddhists' claim, but Britain's men on the spot decided that no precedent or good reason existed

for disturbing the status quo. G.A. Grierson, the collector of Gaya, dutifully instigated a search of

the files held in his office, but it turned up nothing to indicate that the regional government had

ever exercised any rights in the temple beyond those of caretaker regarding the building. All that

had been done by way of repairs had been authorized by the mahant as "proprietor" and carried

out with his "consent," the collector found. (31) On receipt of this report, the lieutenant governor

Sir Charles Elliott also "read up the papers." He came to a similar conclusion, namely that the

imperial government had no business intervening. As to the Mahabodhi Society's offer to "buy up

the place," Elliott was skeptical, and his doubts multiplied after visiting Bodh Gaya in October

1891 where he found the old mahant stricken with worry about reports in the press that the

transfer had already received the imprimatur of the secretary of state:

The mahant is a fine old fellow with a great following of yellow-robed monks, a magnificent castle

of a house in which he and they live, and a great landed estate, which he administers with

liberality. We could not possibly put any pressure upon him ... more than that, I doubt, from the

remarks dropped here and there, whether the Hindu community would not make a protest if any

definite project were started for making it over to unknown strangers from Ceylon or Burma. (32)

When the viceroy, Lord Lansdowne, read the word "protest," the mild enthusiasm he had

previously felt for the Buddhist cause quickly dissipated. Lansdowne already had enough trouble

on his hands courtesy of the Indian National Congress; he did not want any more. "The matter is

one that should be handled with the utmost caution," he observed. (33) The viceroy told Elliott to

keep Dharmapala firmly at arm's length, and suggested to Cross that he consider doing the same

with Arnold. Having already been counseled against any precipitate action by one of his own

advisers, Sir Stuart Bayley, the secretary of state did not argue. He pronounced the question of

Bodh Gaya "settled." (34) Kimberley ran into the same bureaucratic wall when he tried to reopen

the case after meeting Dharmapala at the India Office in 1893.

Had Dharmapala been privy to these deliberations, he might have had second thoughts about

putting the dispute before the courts by orchestrating the fracas of 1894. As it was, he felt

vindicated in his action when he listened to the judgment handed down in June 1895 by the

District Magistrate of Gaya. In finding the Saivites guilty, Macpherson did not confine himself

solely to the issue of whether their conduct had infringed Section 296 of the Indian Penal Code.

He also extemporized at length on the status of the Bodh Gaya temple, describing it as a

"Buddhist shrine" sacred to "one third of the human race." More than once, the magistrate came

tantalizingly close to contesting the legality of the mahant's ownership of the site. (35)

But the decision did not stand. Encouraged by some nationalist-minded Calcutta lawyers, the

Gifts appealed the case to the Calcutta High Court, which set aside Macpherson's convictions on

the grounds that the section of the Indian Penal Code under which the men had been charged did

not apply to the assault on the Mahabodhi party because the latter had not, at the time of the

attack, been performing "a religious ceremony of a kind ... customary with Buddhist worshippers

at the temple." (36) If this setback was not enough, the court went on to criticize the District

Magistrate for his contentious remarks about the lawfulness of the mahant's stewardship of the

temple, deeming them irrelevant and unfounded in fact. As one of the two judges put it: "There is

no doubt that he is in possession, that he is the sole superintendent of the temple, and that he

takes all the offerings.... It is not proved [and] I do not think it is even alleged, that any Buddhist

priests have ever exercised any control or authority in the temple within living memory." (37)

With this judgement, the Giris' control of the Mahabodhi temple--hitherto essentially de facto--was

legitimated and given legal standing. To some extent, the mahant could fairly claim that his

position had been officially recognized by the imperial government. Not surprisingly, the decision

caused him to become even more intransigent and intolerant towards the Buddhists on his

doorstep. (38) Dharmapala did not give up he was not the sort to throw in the towel easily--but he

accepted that the fight to transfer the Mahabodhi temple to Buddhist control had suddenly

become much harder, and he no longer expected to receive much help from the British, who had

proven perfidious allies. By the end of the century the dispute seemed to have been definitively

decided in favor of the Hindus.

THE INTERVENTION OF LORD CURZON

It cannot be said, therefore, that there was anything predictable about Lord Curzon's intervention

in the Mahabodhi temple dispute in 1903, on the side of the Buddhists. Not only was it

unprecedented; it made a mockery of previous imperial policy on the issue. What prompted

Curzon to march in where his predecessors had feared to tread?

Well educated and extremely widely traveled, Curzon brought to his seven-year tenure of the

Indian viceroyalty a deep knowledge of Asian history and culture and a fascination with

architecture. This Orientalism manifested itself both in his penchant for what would now be called

cultural tourism--no viceroy before or after ever paid so many official visits to so many Indian

historical sites and monuments--and in his belief that the British government in India had a

cultural obligation to the world to do whatever lay within its power to preserve them for posterity.

A viceroy "is expected," he told the members of the Byculla Club, "to preserve temples." (39)

Given his cultural agenda, it was inevitable that Curzon would sooner or later get around to

investigating Bodh Gaya, if only to satisfy his curiosity. Typically, when the opportunity finally

came during a tour of eastern India in January 1903, he took the trouble to "master," as he put it,

the "mass of papers" in the files of the Bengal government relating to the temple. Nevertheless

the visit proved a revelation. The temple itself did not disappoint, nor did the famed tree. But

when Curzon entered the sanctuary his sensibilities were outraged. The room "reeked" of oil and

ghi, and when he looked up to gaze upon the great statue of the Buddha, his eyes were assailed

by a vision of "tawdry trappings," "tinsel" and "yellow flowers." (40) He came away from the visit

firmly convinced that the temple had been "polluted with ... incongruous rites." (41)

Secondly, Curzon's view of the Mahabodhi dispute was informed by his imperialism. Of course, all

who had official connections with India could fairly be described as ex officio imperialists, by dint

of what they did, but in contrast to many of his fellow apparatchiks, who were beginning to think

that the country was so riddled with corruption, superstition, and religious envy as to be beyond

salvation, Curzon still stubbornly subscribed to the old Utilitarian notion that Indian society was

malleable and reformable and that virtually anything could be achieved once good laws and

governing institutions had been put in place.

Believing that the Raj since the Mutiny had become too cautious and appeasing of "self-serving"

interest groups--such as the Western--educated professional class--he took up the viceroyalty in

1898 determined to return the Raj to the path of progress and social reconstruction and adamant

that nothing--his own health, which soon began to decline, entrenched official practices, personal

feelings, or extra-official opposition in the form of the self-styled Indian National Congress and the

nationalist vernacular press--would be permitted to stand in his way. By January 1903, three years

into the job, he had invigorated the working arrangements of the secretariat, carved a new

province out of the Punjab, created a new department of Commerce and Industry, a Railway

Board, and a Directorate of Criminal Intelligence, purged the Calcutta Corporation and appointed

a commission to investigate the universities, committed the government to a raft of new irrigation

works, established an Imperial Cadet Corps to provide the sons of Indian ruling princes with

military training, upgraded the existing Chiefs Colleges, shamed the judiciary into imposing

tougher sentences on Europeans convicted of assaulting Indians, and legislated to protect

peasants from avaricious moneylenders and improve conditions on the Assam tea plantations and

in the Bihar collieries. He took up the temple issue in the same crusading spirit--as yet another

potential wrong to be righted. On perusing the papers, he concluded that the Buddhists had a

good case for restitution, notwithstanding the seemingly negative comments that had been

offered (in his opinion, gratuitously) by the Calcutta High Court in Crown versus Girl. Moreover,

Curzon refused to be put off by the fact that previous Bengal governments had "declined to be

drawn" on the issue out of respect for the long-standing imperial policy of "religious neutrality."

While he agreed that the Raj had an obligation not to push a particular religious line, he did not

think the policy had ever been intended to prevent the government intervening in the religious

arena (after all, it did so regularly to prevent outbreaks of mob violence during religious

processions). (42) Besides, Curzon had what he thought was a perfect excuse. In 1901, he had

received an invitation from the Mahabodhi Society to lay the foundation stone of a new rest house

at Gaya for Buddhist pilgrims, which the Society planned to call the "Victoria Memorial Dharma

Sala." (43) How could the imperial government possibly snub a project so palpably useful--and

that sought to honor the late Queen-Empress?

Finally, it is hard to resist the impression that the massively egotistical Curzon latched on to the

temple dispute in order to demonstrate his capacity to succeed where others had failed. Although

his exchange with the mahant in January was brief, the encounter made Curzon confident that he

could be made to see reason--and do the government's bidding. At first, Krishna Dayal had put on

a show of defiance, insisting that the temple had always been a Hindu shrine and describing the

great image on the ground floor provocatively as "an incarnation of Vishnu." But by the end of the

meeting the mahant had subsided into an attitude of "extraordinary humility." (44) Curzon went

away satisfied that the abbot could in the last resort be bullied into accepting a mediated

settlement, regardless of whether or not the wider Hindu community, and in particular "certain

Native papers," rallied to his defense. (45) For that matter, he rather hoped that the firebrand

Calcutta papers would take up the cudgels on behalf of the mahant: it would give him yet another

occasion to cut them down to size.

In the event, Curzon's busy schedule did not permit him to return to Bodh Gaya to close the deal.

Accordingly, he delegated the task to the Collector of Gaya, C.E.A. Oldham, who had

accompanied him on his tour of the district. As Oldham had been well briefed, there seemed little

risk in this course. Nevertheless, determined to leave nothing to doubt, Curzon penned, in his own

hand, a draft agreement ready for the mahant's signature. The draft required the mahant to

acknowledge that the temple was fundamentally a Buddhist place of worship, renounce all claims

to the Bo tree, and assign the building in trust to the government. By way of compensation, it

proposed that the so-called "northern" pipul tree be dedicated exclusively to Hindu worship, and

that all fees and gifts from visitors to the shrine should continue to flow to the mahant. (46)

Armed with this document, Oldham returned to Bodh Gaya on 19 January and sought an

interview with the mahant. He did not beat around the bush. The viceroy had been very

disappointed by what he had witnessed inside the temple, he told the abbot. Whatever may have

been the case before, the government now believed that the temple "was really a Buddhist

shrine" and would not permit the Saivites' desecration of it to continue. If the mahant refused to

cooperate in the matter, the government would be forced to legislate, and if that happened there

would be "no knowing how much of his local influence might not be curtailed." It might well be

"wholly taken away." But if he could find it in himself to perform "a great public act of justice and

religious merit" by handing over the temple, he could expect to receive substantial rewards.

Restored to its ancient glory as a Buddhist shrine, the temple had the potential to bring in

thousands of pilgrims annually. The Giri community stood to earn lahks of rupees; the mahant

himself could "become [a] rich" man. Besides, the government would certainly want to express

its gratitude. An imperial honor was not out of the question.By the end of the interview, Oldham felt that the mahant was at the point of signing. But Krishna

Dayal begged off, explaining that he first needed to talk the matter over with his advisers. And

when the discussions resumed the following morning, the collector found the abbot much

"changed." The veneer of servility had evaporated. The haughtiness of old had returned. Pressed

to sign, he demurred, resurrecting the argument that Bodh Gaya was indeed a Hindu temple and

pleading that he would rather become a bagchi (rebel) than run the risk of offending the Hindu

community by giving it away. Oldham tried again on 8 February using "every argument short of

an open threat," but the outcome was the same. Declaring the abbot a "hopeless" intransigent,

the collector diffidently suggested that the viceroy take him off the case and place the conduct of

the negotiations in the hands of a specially constituted commission. (47)

The lieutenant-governor of Bengal, J.A. Bourdillon, a Buddhist sympathizer, thought Oldham's

proposal an excellent one: "a commission, backed ... [by] favorable opinions, dangling indefinite

advantages before the eyes of the Mahant," might succeed where the collector alone had failed,

he counseled the viceroy. Curzon was less optimistic; but for want of a better idea gave his

blessing to the commission strategy, while cautioning the Bengal government to move discreetly,

"without a flourish of trumpets," and to keep the supreme government's role "entirely in the

background," at least until the commission had reported. (48) Promising to comply, Bourdillon

next turned his attention to the awkward question of membership. It was vital that the

commission included Indians whose views would carry weight with Hindu opinion, and such men

by definition could not be the creatures of government. On the other hand, Bourdillon needed a

commission that could be relied on to return a serviceable report. The problem was "to get the

right Hindus." At length, he decided upon Babu Saroda Charan Mitra, an orthodox and widely

respected Bengali brahman, and Pandit Hara Prashad Shastri, Principal of the Sanskrit College at

Benares. He had already talked to Shastri, and knew he could be counted on to say what the

government needed to be said. On meeting Mitra, he was glad to find that his opinion, too,

appeared "favorable." Oldham was persuaded to chair the commission, and Justice Stevens of the

Calcutta High Court was added to provide legal expertise. (49)

Initially, things went as planned. Shown a draft of the commission's report early in April,

Bourdillon was pleased by its finding "that the Hindu worship at the Bodh Gaya shrine is not

orthodox, and that the Mahant ought to surrender ... control of the ritual there." (50) But the

final report that landed on his desk on 14 April contained some unwelcome surprises. As well as

reaffirming the legality of the mahant's right, as the landlord of the village, to tax, and accept

presents from, pilgrims visiting the temple, the commission found that his rights probably

extended beyond that to control over the temple per se. It 'also torpedoed Curzon's plan to

quarantine the Bo tree for the exclusive enjoyment of the Buddhists, on the ground that the tree

had "from time immemorial been an object of veneration for the Hindus" as well. And just for

good measure, it cast doubt on the provenance-and by implication the authenticity--of the great

image of the Buddha on the ground floor. (51) Yet there was little the lieutenant governor could

do. He had locked himself into accepting the commission's advice. So, with some trepidation, he

proceeded on that basis. Through Oldam, he proposed to the mahant's advisers (1) that the

mahant be declared the de facto manager of the temple; (2) that his right to offerings be

recognized in law; (3) that Hindus and Buddhists both be accorded the right to worship in the

temple subject to their not giving offense to other worshippers; (4) that Hindus be 'allowed to

make offerings at the Bo tree; (5) that the Gifts undertake not to clothe or paint the image of the

Buddha; and (6) that a fifteen-member board, comprising nominees of the government, the

mahant, and the Mahabodhi Society be set up to oversee the temple's conservation and

administration. (52) To his relief, initial reactions from the Saivite camp, and indeed more broadly

from the press, which had contrived to get wind of what was afoot, were favorable. (53) Then

came some further good news--letters of support from two of Bengal's Hindu magnates, Raja

Peary Mohun Mukerji, the "moving spirit" of the British Indian Association, and Sir Jotendra

Mohun Tagore, head of Calcutta's most illustrious family. If the lieutenant governor wished it,

they would do their best to help him sell the package to the mahant. Nevertheless Bourdillon was

not sure how Curzon would view his proposed settlement. "I hope Your Excellency will consider

that what we have got is worth having," he wrote diffidently. (54)Curzon did not. The proposed agreement seemed to him merely to entrench the existing rights of

the mahant. He dubbed it a "complete surrender." (55) However, distracted as he was by other

more urgent matters, the viceroy bowed to the lieutenant governor's argument that the

government stood to lose nothing by putting the package to the mahant. Once again the long-

suffering Oldham was dispatched to Bodh Gaya, this time bearing what he hoped would be glad

tidings.

Not altogether to his surprise, he found the abbot in "a most uncompromising mood." At first,

Krishna Dayal refused even to discuss the government's offer until he had consulted with his

advisers (who now included, it appeared, the Calcutta lawyer and British India Association

heavyweight, H.E.A. Cotton). When pressed, however, he made it clear that he regarded certain

points as non-negotiable. Chief of these was the issue of what rituals were practiced in the

temple. The mahant insisted that the Hindus should continue to be allowed to dress the image of

the Buddha in the lower story of the temple and apply tilak marks to its forehead; and he refused

to concede the need for any kind of a board to oversee his management especially one which

contained Buddhists. Buddhist pilgrims, Krishna Dayal went on, had always been made welcome,

and would continue to be. But he could not countenance any attempt--by a small minority of

fanatics--to dictate to him what he could or could not do with his property. As he explained later

to a well-wisher: "I was quite surprised at these novel proposals, and could not but decline to

accept them [in] ...the interests of the Hindu nation." (56) Seeing no purpose in further

discussion, the collector withdrew, compelling Bourdillon to fall back on the good offices of the

Bengali magnates. Raja Mukerji obliged by hosting a meeting with the mahant and his advisers at

his Calcutta mansion. Here, at last, it seems, some progress was made, Krishna Dayal 'allegedly

volunteering to give way on the vexed issue of the clothes and the tilak. (57)

But the breakthrough proved short-lived. Upon returning to Bodh Gaya, the mahant wrote to

Mukerji retracting his offer. The raja rushed to Gaya in an attempt to dissuade him, but could not:

In discussing the matter with the Mahant I find that he cannot for a moment be divested of the

idea that Bodh Gaya is a purely Hindu shrine, that it has been recognised as such in all previous

[Bengal] Government correspondence and in such independent Government publications as Mr

Grierson's "Bodh Gaya" and "Lists Of Ancient Monuments In Bengal," that as a mere trustee his

consent or refusal to any condition would go for nothing, and that Lord Kimberley put the thing in

the proper light when he said, in reply to Sir Edwin Arnold, that: "It is stated that Bodh Gaya is

regarded with reverence by the Hindus, and [therefore] no mere agreement for transfer

[negotiated] between the Hindu Mahant and the Mahabodhi Society would meet ... all the

considerations raised by the subject." (58)

Mukerji lamely attributed this about-face to the influence of the mahant's advisers and

constituents, singling out the abbot's Muslim mukhtar (agent) for special condemnation. Pandit

Shastri took the same line: the mahant was "willing himself to give way to our demands," he told

the lieutenant governor, but was "afraid of his disciples." And Cotton mounted a similar

argument. Speaking presumably from inside knowledge, he informed Bourdillon: the "Mahant's

brother Sannasis [sic] have raised the strongest objections, and they have certainly satisfied me

from the texts that the placing of the tilak mark is an essential part of the worship. The fact is

that the Mahant would render himself liable to dismissal ... if he were to act contrary to the

wishes of his brother[s]." (59)

The lieutenant governor copied these gloomy missives to the viceroy without additional

comment--disingenuously passing over the fact that the Raja appeared to have made no effort to

refute any of the mahant's labored objections. Curzon was furious, and rounded on his

subordinate for having contributed to the fiasco by bringing Mukherji and Cotton into the

negotiating process: "It was with equal surprise and regret," he wrote scathingly, "that I

learned ... that the Raja had been introduced on to the scene; and with still greater regret that at

a yet later stage I heard that Mr Cotton had been admitted into counsel. I distrust the former

gentleman. I have every reason for knowing that the latter is a bitter opponent." Between them,

they had conspired to bring about a "decisive ... defeat for the Government of India." But Curzon

did not like losing, especially to "upstart" Indians like the mahant and the raja. Krishna Dayal had

behaved in a way that was "disrespectful and insulting," while Mukerji's conduct had been

"officious, unfriendly and most invidious." Last but not least, the "prestige" of the British Raj had

been punctured; it would need to be repaired. Accordingly, he directed that the mahant be "called

upon," without delay, to sign a new agreement, based on the Bengal government's draft of April

1903, and that he be informed that a failure to sign would result in the passage of legislation to

empower the government to regulate all worship in the temple. "In this case," he added

menacingly, "no admission of the fights of the Mahant will be made." However, this tough

approach was offset by the offer of a significant concession (although, typically enough, it was not

labeled as such). In the new draft, the provision for a 15-member board of management was

scrapped. Instead, it foreshadowed the establishment of a three-member committee of

arbitration, with no assured Buddhist membership, to decide disputes over ritual on a "case by

case basis." (60) Once again, Bourdillon found himself saddled with the tricky job of closing the

deal; but this time he was armed with the dire threat of punitive legislation, surely one the abbot

could not ignore? But the mahant proved infuriatingly hard to pin down. When Bourdillon wrote to

him early in June proposing a meeting at Gaya, he begged off feigning illness. The lieutenant

governor then invited the abbot to meet him at Bankipore in July, only to learn that in the

meantime the "malady" had "increased" to the point where the mahant had been advised by the

civil surgeon of Patna--a government employee--"to seek a dry climate." Later he was seen in

Hazaribagh. It seemed clear he intended to stay on the run for as long as it took for the

government to lose interest. "It is difficult to force him to appear when he is equipped with

medical certificates," Bourdillon wrote huffily, "and I am not prepared to go in pursuit of him." (61)

Curzon was not fazed. If Krishna Dayal declined "to come out ... of his lair" voluntarily, he would

have to be dragged out. However, he conceded that the lieutenant governor of Bengal had better

things to do than chase one recalcitrant Indian around the country, and--despite his previous

strictures--agreed that Bourdillon could again entrust the task to Mukerji. This time, though, the

lieutenant governor took pains to impress upon the Raja where his duty lay. He was the

government's agent, and his job was to "convince the Mahant to sign." (62)

He may just as well have saved his breath. Mukerji made only a token attempt to gain an

audience with the mahant, and when this was denied flouted Bourdillon's instructions by re-

opening negotiations through the abbot's uncle. In the event he did manage to extract a few

minor concessions from the Giris, notably an offer to remove the tilak mark from the forehead of

the great Buddha if formally requested to do so by the government--but at the price of several

new demands, which he unapologetically recommended to Bourdillon in a covering letter:

[The] Mohant's uncle and his advisers did not give me a definite answer, but it seemed to me that

if these grievances could be removed, that is, if the Rest-House were placed in the absolute

control of the Mohant, if the Rs.13,000 be returned to Mr Dharmapala, and the cost of the new

rest-house be taken from the Mohant, and if the Japanese image be removed from Bodh Gaya, the

fraternity might advise the Mohant to sign. (63)

A "weary" Bourdillon convinced himself that he had little to lose by conceding these "minor"

points, and revised the viceroy's draft accordingly. Around the middle of August he dispatched

this new draft to the mahant with a covering letter, informing him that he had until 10 September

to accept the agreement. However the deadline came and went without further communication

from the Giri camp. It was as if the government had never spoken. Angry--and somewhat rattled-

Curzon instructed his Law Member Sir Denzil Ibbetson to proceed immediately with the framing of

legislation to transfer control over the Bodh Gaya temple to the government of India.

Then further trouble struck from an unexpected quarter. When the prospect of legislation had

been first raised in May, Ibbetson had offered no "serious" objection to the idea per se, although

he had warned Curzon that the Home government might not approve a bill that challenged so

radically the Raj's supposed non-interference policy on religion. (64) His main concern had been

how the bill might go down with nationalist Hindus. (65) But on 15 September, the viceroy

received a hastily scrawled note from a very "distressed" Ibbetson. Ibbetson had recently been

turning the matter over in his mind. He now realized that he had given his superior "bad advice"

based on a "serious mistake" of judgment in respect to the possible consequences that could flow

from the proposed legislation. The Hindu community would be entitled to ask why the

government had seen fit to legislate when the "public peace" was "in no way threatened" and no

complaints of discrimination had actually been received from any of the ordinary Buddhist

pilgrims at Bodh Gaya, as distinct from the secretary of the Mahabodhi Society. The government

of India already faced the prospect of having "to fight the educated natives over the Universities

Bill." (66) Was it wise to risk alienating the "bigoted" Hindu class of Bengal as well at this critical

time? Moreover, the legislation would set an awkward precedent. If it moved to assume control of

Bodh Gaya, the supreme government would face irresistible pressure to give its assent--so far

withheld--to the Madras government's religious endowments bills, which contemplated a similar

arrangement for the temples of the southern presidency. "I should never have abandoned nay

original position--that the only safe course is to abstain absolutely from all interference in

matters of religion," Ibbetson confessed. The following day he sent Curzon another missive,

pleading with him to back away from the temple dispute while he could still do so gracefully,

without damage to the government's prestige. (67)There are only three more letters in Curzon's collected papers that make any reference to Bodh

Gaya. The first is from Curzon to Ibbetson. It is a strange letter, because it seems to function on

two levels. On one level, it is 'all assurance and bravado. "I [do not] share your fears, in their

extreme shape, of ever dealing in any form with religious matters," Curzon writes. "I have no

doubt whatever that the Government of India will be compelled to do so in the long run." But then

it shifts key, and becomes cagey. "If there is a great outcry we can drop the case altogether. If

public opinion justifies us, we can pursue it." (68) The second letter is from Bourdillon, penned in

early October just prior to his retirement, and it, too, has a classically imperialist tone: "I do not

share Sir D. Ibbetson's apprehensions," he asserts dismissively. "I am sanguine that the justice

and moderation of our case will disarm press criticism. As to the masses, I do not think they need

to be considered." (69) It would seem from a close reading of these two letters that the

government as of October 1903 had every intention of proceeding to frame a resolution on Bodh

Gaya preparatory to taking the temple under its control. Indeed, the first part of Curzon's letter

can be read as signalling something far broader and even more consequential--an imminent

policy shift in respect of local religious quarrels generally.

But the promised resolution on Bodh Gaya never materialized. Although Curzon remained viceroy

for another two years and continued to take a lively interest in the preservation of Indian historic

sites, pushing through a landmark Act in this area in 1904, no credible evidence has been found

in the files to support the claim of his official biographer that he "persisted in his attempts to

bring the matter [of the temple] to a satisfactory issue" down to his departure in the autumn of

1905. (70) Of course, he may have continued to press the Buddhist cause in conversation. But if

that is so, why did he not brief his successor, Lord Minto? Minto paid an obligatory visit to Bodh

Gaya in February 1906 during his initial familiarization tour of eastern India, and, like Curzon,

found the sight of the great statute of Buddha, "adorned with caste marks after the fashion of the

Hindu gods," very disturbing. He too expressed sympathy for the "very reasonable claims of the

followers of Budha [sic]." However, his letters suggest that he learned about these claims from

the Tashi Lama of Tibet, who was in Bodh Gaya on pilgrimage--not from his predecessor. (71)

Curzon's interest in resolving the temple dispute appears to have dried up completely by the late

autumn of 1903. Why?

Curzon's letter quoted above offers a clue: "If there is a great outcry, we can drop the case

'altogether." By the summer of 1903 the honeymoon was over; public opinion on the Bodh Gaya

issue had started to turn. On 14 July, the Bengalee, a long-time champion of the orthodox cause,

wrote:

The various transactions [at Gaya] disclose a persistent pressure on the Mahant to part with his

rights and those of the Hindu community which is absolutely inconsistent with those traditions of

neutrality in respect of religious matters which the British Government have 'always followed, and

which not even the boldest of Indian Viceroys have ever ventured [before] to discard as an

antiquated faith. (72)

The following day the Prativasi chimed in. Hindus, the paper claimed, were becoming "greatly

alarmed" at the prospect of government control at Bodh Gaya. (73) Further acerbic editorials on

the subject appeared at regular intervals throughout the autumn and winter of 1903. Although

the press didn't speak for everybody, it did express the views of the educated middle class--

Curzon's betes noires. Clearly a large section of this influential group had decided to rally to the

defense of the mahant. (74)

It would appear then that Curzon gave up on Bodh Gaya in order to avoid a confrontation with

Bengali nationalism. Difficult though this conclusion is to reconcile with Lord Curzon's reputation

as a dogged, courageous fighter, it is borne out by the third reference alluded to above, which

appears in a reflective letter written by the viceroy months later, while he was on furlough in

England. In it Curzon acknowledges, for the first time, his failure over Bodh Gaya, and adds a brief

but pregnant explanation: with the government already caught up in "so many sources of ...

disagreement with the native community in Bengal (arising out of our Universities Bill, the Official

Secrets Act, and the suggested partition of Bengal) it did not seem to be worthwhile to add

another to their number, or to provide a possible handle for a religious agitation." (75) The letter

itself is testimony to Curzon's disappointment over Bodh Gaya. Months after it had been officially

shelved, the case still evidently nagged at him. Even more significant, though, is its admission

that the case was shelved because the viceroy did not want to add to the ranks of his

government's native opponents.

DHARMAPALA AND THE POLITICIANS

Despite growing up to hate European colonialism for its racist condescension, Anagarika

Dharmapala had always believed in its power to effect change. After meeting Arnold, he became

convinced that the realization of his sworn goal to recover the Mahabodhi temple hinged first and

foremost on persuading the British of the righteousness of the Buddhist cause. He never

considered for a single moment that the august imperial government of India might take up his

case, but fail to deliver. The Anagarika was greatly disillusioned, therefore, when Curzon elected

not to legislate on the temple and effectively dropped the issue in the autumn of 1903. His

disillusionment intensified in December 1909 when the district magistrate of Patna issued a

formal order, at the behest of the mahant, prohibiting Buddhist worship at the temple during an

official visit by the new lieutenant governor of Bengal, Sir Edward Baker. It became complete

when the Bengal government refused to accept the Mahabodhi Society's address of welcome to

Baker on the spurious plea that it did not fully conform to the "memorial rules." "[Thus] the

mighty arm of the British [Raj] surrenders its power to the stronger party, letting the weak go to

the wall," a Society tract opined sarcastically. For a time indeed it looked as if the Mahabodhi

Society might even lose its one substantial foothold within the temple complex, namely the rest

house for Buddhist pilgrims. In 1906, flushed with the glow of his victory over the viceroy,

Krishna Dayal brought a civil suit in the court of the district magistrate claiming a reversionary

right of possession over the rest house on the grounds that it had been constructed illegally--

without the permission of the landlord who, of course, was none other than the mahant himself--

and won. The Society appealed but had to fight an expensive four-year legal battle, before the

Calcutta High Court finally pronounced in its favor. (76)Deserted by the government, Dharmapala reverted to courting public opinion. Over the next

decade the secretary of the Mahabodhi Society tirelessly pursued newspaper editors, penned a

succession of heart-wrenching pamphlets, and knocked hopefully on the doors of scores of

influential Englishmen. But such favorable publicity as the Society received was negated by the

outpourings of the Bengali vernacular papers, which continued in the main to back the Hindu

cause, while the British establishment proved unresponsive. (77) At a loss as to what else to do,

Dharmapala turned at last to the nationalist politicians.

This strategy produced almost instant results. In 1920, Chittaranjan Das, the paramount Congress

leader in Bengal, came out publicly in support of the Society's position: "In my opinion," he

declared, "the Buddha Gaya temple belongs to the Buddhists." In December 1922, the Bihar

Provincial Congress Committee agreed to lend its support to any proposals for a "peaceful ...

rescue of the Buddha Gaya Temple." In January 1923, the issue was taken up by file Congress

Working Committee and referred to Rajendra Prasad, an orthodox Bihari lawyer, with the request

that he report back with suggestions as to how "the custody of the Bodh Gaya Temple" might be

"placed in Buddhist hands." Distracted by the debate over council entry, Prasad took his time

responding, but eventually recommended that the Congress Party in the Bihar legislature be

invited to sponsor a private members bill transferring the management of the temple to a

committee composed of three Hindus and five Buddhists nominated by the Mahabodhi Society.

Dharmapala was jubilant; a successful outcome to his long and hard-fought campaign now

seemed just a matter of time. However, when the Prasad report was presented to the All India

Congress Committee (AICC) for ratification, it drew criticism from several Right-wing Hindus

including United Provinces powerbroker Purushottamdas Tandon. To meet their objections, the

AICC agreed to allocate two more places on the management committee to Hindus--and

stipulated that one place should be reserved for the mahant. Needless to say, this amendment

proved wholly unacceptable to the Mahabodhi Society. But the Congress refused to shift. Finally,

more or less in desperation, the Society turned for help to the Hindu Mahasabha, which

commissioned a further report. Surprisingly, this report, too, came out in favor of giving control of

the temple to a mixed committee, and what is more contrived to overlook the claims of the

mahant. In the summer of 1932, an ailing Dharmapala gave his consent to the framing of

legislation along these lines. (78)

The Anagarika did not, however, live to witness the realization of his life's dream. He died the

following year, with the enabling bill still in preparation. Shortly afterwards the published bill fell

victim to an orchestrated Hindu campaign led by the Shankaracharya of Puri. The colonial

authorities were quietly relieved.

Ten years later India was free. Congress took up the reins of government eager to make up for

lost time, and determined to build a fairer and more democratic society. In that spirit, the

Congress provincial ministry, early in 1949, introduced the Bodh Gaya Temple Bill into the Bihar

Legislative Assembly. It became law on 19 June. The Act transferred control over the running of

the temple to a nine-member committee comprised of the district magistrate of Gaya (as

chairman), four Buddhists, and four Hindus (including the incumbent mahant of the math). It also

decreed that in the ease of irreconcilable disputes, the government of Bihar would have the final

say. True to form, the Giris tried to have the act declared invalid by the Bihar High Court but the

suit was thrown out. On 26 April 1953, the new management committee held its first (predictably

tense) meeting, and in May 1953 formally assumed responsibility for the administration of the

temple. (79)

The 1953 transfer ended another phase in Bodh Gaya's long history. It did not, however, resolve

the sectarian problems that had spawned the legislation. These--as observed at the beginning of

this article--continue to exercise the minds of Indian politicians and administrators.

CONCLUSION

When American writer Katherine Mayo called in at the India Office in London in 1926 to pick up

some official letters of introduction before proceeding to Bombay, she was told that "nothing in

India is quite what it seems." This was good advice, and it is borne out by our investigation into

the convoluted saga of the Bodh Gaya temple. The temple itself is a study in ambiguity. Raised by

Buddhists, it has been controlled by Saivite Hindus since at least the seventeenth century, and

today it caters--simultaneously--to the spiritual needs of two rival faiths. How should it be

categorized: as a Hindu temple, or a Buddhist shrine, or both? Is Bodh Gaya an example of

Hinduism's supposed capacity for toleration or a monument to blinkered sectarianism? And what

should we make of the Giris' choice of Husain Bakhsh for their agent? By the late nineteenth

century, communal conflict was rife in South Asia and an ideology of "separatism" was beginning

to take hold among the Muslim elite in north India. Yet at Bodh Gaya, an orthodox and by some

reckoning fanatical body of Hindu ascetics was prepared to entrust its business affairs to a

Muslim. Did religious identity in this period matter a lot less than we think? Certainly, to judge

from his actions in the February 1894 fracas, when he helped turn Dharmapala's men out of the

temple, Bakhsh's Muslim identity did not prevent him serving his Hindu masters with conspicuous

loyalty and devotion. But hardly less strange is the part played by the Hindu Mahasabha, which,

at the risk of antagonizing its communal constituency, came out in support of the claims of the

Buddhists and put them before the Bihar Legislative Assembly-upstaging, in the process, the

secularist Congress. All these peculiarities are worthy of further investigation and reflection.

Let me conclude, however, by commenting on two other oddities arising from the Bodh Gaya

story that bear more directly upon the overarching theme of the British colonial state as a

religious manager. First, there is the role of Curzon. His decision to intervene in the temple

dispute had no precedent, and flew in the face of the Raj's long-standing policy of "neutrality" in

religious affairs since it was motivated by a desire to return the temple to Buddhist ownership.

Nonetheless, it fits perfectly with the conventional picture of Lord Curzon as an imperial

administrator. Curzon's biographers, and most historians who have written on his viceroyalty, are

agreed that he was a man who acted always from positions of principle. On the other hand, his

failure to pursue the matter of the temple to a successful conclusion sits awkwardly with the

image of the viceroy as a fearless fighter who never gave in to pressure. Not only did Curzon

'allow himself to be out-maneuvered by the mahant, an opponent so much less powerful than

himself, when public opinion on the issue turned against him, he promptly dropped the ball. This

is the same man, it should be noted, who was forever exhorting his fellow Indian civil servants "to

care nothing for flattery or applause or odium or abuse." (80) Yet Curzon's reluctance to resolve

the Bodh Gaya dispute through legislation--although it went against his own declared principles of

public conduct--points to the existence of a sagacious quality in the man not generally

appreciated by commentators on his life and work. Curzon could have prized the temple away

from the abbot, but he declined to do so because he was uneasy about the possible political

repercussions, given the increasingly hostile tone of the native press. Contrary to popular

impression, Curzon took public opinion seriously, and in a perverse kind of way took credit for its

growth. (81) Much as he despised the Western-educated class, especially that of Bengal, Curzon

recognized that this articulate and well-connected group had the power to cause trouble for the

government. Moreover, when the time came for action, the viceroy found himself over-

committed. The supreme government had just authorized Sir Francis Younghusband's

expeditionary force to advance into the interior of Tibet; and was about to give final approval to

the details of the viceroy's plan for a reorganization of the Bengal presidency. Both initiatives

were controversial and stout opposition from the Bengali nationalists was expected to the latter.

In the event, the anti-partition campaign proved even more formidable than Curzon or any of his

advisers had expected, although the viceroy was not at all surprised to learn that Raja Peary

Mukerji was a member of the organizing committee. (82) And the autumn of 1903 was a bad time

for Curzon personally. In October, his long-serving private secretary Walter Lawrence retired and

Lord George Hamilton was moved out of the India Office as part of a cabinet reshuffle. Hamilton

had been consistently supportive; his successor, St John Broderick, was numbered a personal foe.

Curzon might have been a dogged campaigner, but he had his limits. He could fight only so many

battles at the one time.

But then if Lord Curzon was over-taxed, so was the Raj he served. Curzon himself was privately

disparaging of most of his predecessors, and by and large, scholars since have concurred with

this assessment. Curzon is generally reckoned the most capable governor-general ever to have

served the Crown. However, for all his energy, dedication and talent, Curzon, could not rule India

single-handedly. Like every other Indian proconsul, he was tied to the governing apparatus, and

was ultimately dependent on what it could provide. To be sure, the resources available to the Raj

were very great; but they were by no means infinite. On the contrary, as the "Cambridge School"

of historians have shown, the government was constantly running short of money, and had to

make do with a smaller bureaucracy (notably in respect of the police) than it would have liked.

What is more, the Raj was critically reliant in this respect on the willingness of its subjects to

comply with its demands and service its needs. Its efficient functioning--its very survival--required

a constant supply of taxes and manpower, the latter, at least, involving a large measure of

voluntarism. These imperatives, scholars now believe, prompted the British in India to

deliberately cut back the activity of the state in certain areas of society, such as religion, in order

to appease Indian sensitivities. The story of Curzon's abortive intervention in the Bodh Gaya

temple dispute provides yet further compelling evidence of the force of this insight. While Curzon

constantly lamented the deficiencies of the system, he recognized that he had to work within its

administrative constraints, so he prioritized. The project of restoring the temple to the Buddhists

captured the viceroy's imagination but he never saw it as a major priority. In the end, it was

considered not worth the effort, and abandoned. Ironically, this decision had the effect, not only

of cementing Krishna Dayal's position at Bodh Gaya, and compounding his intransigence, but of

reaffirming official faith in the essential correctness of the religious neutrality policy. Certainly, no

British administrator after 1903 ever attempted to reopen the temple question.

Second, much as it is understandable in terms of the challenges that faced Curzon and his

government in 1903, his reluctance to legislate on Bodh Gaya looks meek when measured

against the resolute action, forty-five years later, of the independent Congress-led government of

Bihar. Facing similarly fierce opposition from the Giris and from the wider orthodox community,

the Bihar government did not hesitate to resort to legislation. Significant, too, was the clause in

the resultant Act that provided for future governmental arbitration in the event of a deadlock

within the temple management committee--a clear indication that the post-colonial Indian state

did not intend to divorce itself from the tricky business of religious management. (83)

How was the Bihar government of 1949 able to deal decisively with a matter that its colonial

predecessor had always found too difficult a challenge? At one level, the answer lies in the

specific dynamics of the Bihar political landscape in the late 1940s. Although the Nehru-led

Congress was officially committed to an ideology of secularism, a number of senior figures within

the party felt strongly--in the light of Partition, and Pakistan's creation as a Muslim state--that

the time had come for India to openly acknowledge, and embrace, its dominantly Hindu identity.

Bihar chief minister Srikrishna Sinha, a Nehru ally, intervened at Bodh Gaya partly to reassure

the province's Muslim population that the Congress was serious about protecting religious

minorities. (84) But as to why Sinha felt able to tackle the Bodh Gaya problem in the first place,

the answer to that question is to be found, I believe, in the nature of the government over which

he presided. The Bihar government of 1949 differed from the colonial administration headed by

Lord Curzon in two fundamental respects: first, it was a government composed of Indians, not

foreigners; second, it was elected. Together these features gave it a stamp of legitimacy, which in

turn buttressed its power. As Weber long ago pointed out, when the rulers of a state possess

legitimacy, they are more inclined to act and the subjects/voters more inclined to obey. Turning

this axiom around, one may conclude that, in the last resort, the British colonial rulers of India

were constrained from acting adventurously in the social arena not so much by a lack of power,

as by a deep-set, debilitating awareness of the shallowness of their authority.(1.) The original Bo-tree is alleged to have been poisoned in the third century BCE by a queen of

the emperor Asoka, jealous of the emperor's devotion to Buddhist causes. Asoka is said to have

enticed a shoot to sprout by dousing the sick tree with the milk of 100 cows (although this sounds

like a later Brahmanic interpolation). According to the legend, this tree perished at the hands of a

zealous Hindu king, Sasanka, around 600 CE. The third of the line was generated, the story goes,

from seeds of the original tree brought from Ceylon. It was apparently this tree, much dilapidated,

that the British antiquarian, Major-General Cunningham, found and rescued in the 1870s. William

Warren, "Asia's Most Sacred Tree," in Silver Kris (September 1986), 24-29.

(2.) James Legge, trans., A Record Of Buddhist Kingdoms: Being An Account By the Chinese Monk

Fa-Hien Of His Travels In India and Ceylon (A.D. 399-414) In Search Of the Buddhist Books Of

Discipline (New York: Paragon Book Reprint Corp., 1965), 89. See also Dipak Kumar Barua, Viharas

In Ancient India; a Survey Of Buddhist Money, reties (Calcutta: Indian Publications, 1969), 123-27.

(3.) Hindus visit the tree to make pinda (rice-ball) offerings to their forebears.

(4.) William Dalrymple, "These Buddhists Are All Foreigners," The Spectator (28 August 1993), 14.

(5.) New York Times International, 3 July 1992, A4.

(6.) W. Theodore de Bary, gen. ed., Sources of Indian Tradition (New York: Columbia U.P., 1958),

vol. 1, 188.

(7.) Alan Trevithick, "British Archaeologists, Hindu Abbots, and Burmese Buddhists: the Mahabodhi

Temple At Bodh Gaya, 1811-1877," in Modern Asian Studies 33 (July 1999): 636.

(8.) For example, Bhikshu Sangharakshita, "Buddhism," in A Cultural History Of India, ed. A.L.

Basham (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1975), 98.

(9.) Romila Thapar, Early India From the Origins To AD 1300 (London: Allen Lane, 2002), 482-88. A

balanced recent reassessment of the evidence on Buddhist decline is provided in S.R. Goyal,

Indian Buddhism After the Buddha (Jodhpur: Kusumanjali Book World, 2003), ch. 13.

(10.) L.S.S. O'Malley, Gaya District Gazetteer (Calcutta, 1906), 49; and L.P. Vidyarthi, The Sacred

Complex In Hindu Gaya (London: Asia Publishing House, 1961), 24.

(11.) Editorial, Bangavarsi (Calcutta), 19 December 1903. Oriental and India Office Collection,

British Library, Loudon [hereafter OIOC], Report on Native Newspapers for Bengal [hereafter RNN]

for week ending 26 December 1903.

(12.) Trevithick, "British Archaeologists," 635.

(13.) O'Malley, Gazetteer, 47. According to oral tradition, the stone had once occupied a

prominent position in front of the temple.

(14.) Trevithick, "British Archaeologists," 638.

(15.) As told to Colonel Mackenzie in 1820 by his "Jain Pandit," quoted in ibid., 639.

(16.) Trevithick, "British Archaeologists," 639-40.

(17.) Report by Mitra, dated February 1877, quoted in ibid., 654.

(18.) The philosophical system of Theosophy has long roots, going back perhaps to the Gnostics

and the Cabalists. Renaissance thinker Paracelsus is sometimes regarded as an early exponent.

But Theosophy as a modern movement began in 1875 with the foundation in New York of the

Theosophical Society by Olcott and Madame Helena Petrova Blavatsky (1831-1891), a Russian

emigre. Theosophy believes in an essentially spiritual God-directed universe and is devoted to

uncovering and understanding the eternal principles that govern its existence. Blavatsky and

Olcott searched for evidence continuing their theories and speculations in the religious traditions

of the East, and found touch--initially, especially in the thought of Buddhism. Later, Blavatsky's

favored protege and eventual successor, English-woman Annie Besant (1847-1933), shifted the

Society's headquarters to Adiyar, a suburb of Madras, after which it drew more heavily from

Hinduism, and in particular from the spiritual guidance offered to Mrs. Besant by a chain of higher

beings called mahatmas (great souls). After receiving a psychic message from Mahatma Khoot

Hoomi, Besant entered politics on the side of the nationalists, and in 1917 was elected the first

female president of the Indian National Congress.

(19.) On the "Protestant Buddhist" thesis, see Michael Ames, "Westernization or Modernization:

the Case Of Sinhalese Buddhism," Social Compass 20 (1973), 139-70; and Ganath Obeyesekera,

"Buddhism and Conscience: An Exploratory Essay," in Daedelus 120 (1991): 219-39. On the

Theosophist connection, see L.A. Wickremeratne, "An American Bodhisattva and An Irish

Karmayogin: Reflections on Two European Encounters with Non-Christian Religious Cultures in the

Nineteenth Century," in Journal of the American Academy of Religion 50 (1982): 237-54.

(20.) Entries in Dharmapala's diary dated 25 November 1897, 96 June 1902, 11 June 1994, 7

August 1913, and 24 September 1913, quoted in Michael Roberts, "For Humanity, For the

Sinhalese: Dharmapala As A Crusading Bosat," Journal Of Asian Studies 56 (1997): 1008 and

1008n.

(21.) There is no space or particular need here to trace the later development of Dharmapala's

spirituality, save to say that they involved a growing repugnance towards Theosophist

"occultism," and towards Annie Besant's attempts to take the movement closer to Hinduism; ibid.,

1014-16.

(22.) Diary entry dated 27 February 1891, quoted in ibid., 1016.

(23.) Diary entry 22 January 1891, quoted in D.K. Barua, Buddha Gaya Temple: Its History (Gaya:

Buddha Gaya Temple Management Committee, 1979), 30-31.

(24.) Barua, Buddha Gaya Temple, 6

(25.) Arnold to Cross, 4 July 1891, encl. in Cross to Lord Lansdowne 24 July 1891, Br. Lib., OIOC,

Lansdowne Coll[ection], vol. 4.

(26.) Arnold to Lord Kimberley, see. State for India, 16 August 1893, encl. in Kimberley to

Lansdowne, 18 August 1893, Lansdowne Coll., Vol. 6. The mahant subsequently told a very

different story to the lieutenant governor, Elliott. When Elliott talked to him later he denied having

given his assent to any buy out. He may have misunderstood the import of Arnold's proposition.

(27.) Note dated 28 September 1891 on interview with Sir E. Arnold, end. in Cross to Lansdowne,

1 October 1891, Lansdowne Coll., Vol. 4.

(28.) Arnold to Kimberley 16 August 1893, encl. in Kimberley to Lansdowne 18 August 1893.

Lansdowne Coll., Vol. 6.

(29.) Mahabodhi Society, Oppression and Tyranny At Bodh Gaya: Buddhist Pilgrims Forcibly

Ejected From the Great Temple By the Menials Of the Saivite Mahant (Calcutta, 1925), 6-7; and

judgment of Macpherson J in Jaipal Gir and others v. H. Dharmapala, High Court, Calcutta, 22

August 1895. Indian Law Reports, Calcutta, Vol. 23, 66, 71. Dharmapala was shattered by the

collapse of his plans. Unfairly, he placed some of the blame on Olcott. Following further

arguments about tactics, Olcott resigned from the Mahabodhi Society's Board of Directors in

1896.

(30.) Evidence of Muktear Husain Baksh, as quoted in the judgement of D.J Macpherson, Dist.

Magistrate of Gaya, in the case of the Crown vs. Jaipal Gir and others, 9 June 1894, Indian Law

Reports, Calcutta, Vol. 23, 63-64.

(31.) G.A. Grierson to Commissioner, Patna Division, 6 May 1891, quoted in B. Das, A Hindu Point

Of View On the Bodh-Gaya Temple, With Some Reference To the Bill ... In [the] Assembly

(Calcutta, 1936), 5.

(32.) Elliott to Lord Lansdowne, 26 August and 4 November 1891. Lansdowne Coil., Vol. 21.

(33.) Lansdowne to Elliott, 14 November 1891. Ibid.

(34.) Note by Sir S.C. Bayley, member of the Council of India, encl. in Cross to Lansdowne 24 July

1891; and Cross to Lansdowne, 11 December 1891. Lansdowne Coll., Vol. 4. The Earl of Kimberley

disingenuously denied any awareness of this correspondence when Arnold raised the matter with

him eighteen months later.

(35.) Judgment in Crown vs. Jaipal Gir and other, 9 June 1894, quoted in Indian Law Reports,

Calcutta, Vol. 23, 62.

(36.) Judgment of Macpherson J, delivered on 22 August 1895; ibid., 70.

(37.) Ibid., 65.

(38.) Gaya District Gazetteer, 50.

(39.) Quoted in Peter King, The Viceroy's Fall: How Kitchener Destroyed Curzon (London:

Sidgewick and Jackson, 1986), 42.

(40.) Note by Curzon dated 16 January 1903, encl. in Sir W. Lawrence to C.E.A. Oldham, 17

January 1903, Br. Lib., OIOC, Curzon Coll[ection], Vol. 207.

(41.) Curzon to Lord George Hamilton, 22 January 1903, Br. Lib., OIOC, Hamilton Coll[ection], Vol.

13.

(42.) Note by Curzon dated 16 January 1903, encl. in Sir w. Lawrence to C.E.A. Oldham, 17 January

1903, Curzon Coll., Vol. 207.

(43.) Dharmapala to Sir W. Lawrence, 20 February 1901. Br. Lib., OIOC, Walter Lawrence Coll., Vol.

32.

(44.) Note by Curzon dated 16 January 1903, encl. in Sir w. Lawrence to C.E.A. Oldham, 17 January

1903, Curzon Coil., Vol. 207.

(45.) J.A. Bourdillon, Acting Lt.-Gov. of Bengal, to Curzon, 9 January 1903; ibid.

(46.) Quoted in "Memorandum of Interviews," encl. in Oldham to Sir W. Lawrence, 8 February

1903, Curzon Coll., Vol. 207.

(47.) Ibid.

(48.) Bourdillon to Curzon, 9 March 1903, and Curzon to Bourdillon, 9 March 1903, Curzon Coll.,

Vol. 207.

(49.) Bourdillon to Curzon, 4, 9 and 17 March 1903, Curzon Coll., Vol. 207.

(50.) Bourdillon to Curzon, 5 April 1903, Curzon Coll., Vol. 207.

(51.) The commission's inquiries revealed that the image, had once resided in the Saivite math,

and had been installed--or reinstalled--in the course of the government-supervised restoration

work undertaken after the expulsion of the Burmese mission. Encl. in Bourdillon to Curzon, 14

April 1903, Curzon Coll., Vol. 207.

(52.) Bourdillon to Curzon, 5 April 1903, Curzon Coll., Vol. 207.

(53.) See, e.g., the Sanjivani (Calcutta), 16 April 1903, RNN, Bengal, week ending 25 April 1903.

(54.) Bourdillon to Curzon, 5 April 1903, Curzon Coll., Vol. 207.

(55.) Sir W. Lawrence to Bourdillon (teleg.), 8 April 1903, Curzon Coll. Wok 207.

(56.) Shrimahat Krishnadayulu Girl to Raja Peary Mohun Mukerji, 20 October 1903, Curzon Coil.,

Vol. 208.

(57.) Bourdillon to Curzon, 30 June 1903, Curzon Coll. Vol. 207.

(58.) Raja Peary Mohun Mukerji to Bourdillon, 27 April 1903, Curzon Coll. Vol. 207.

(59.) Bourdillon to Curzon, 30 June 1903, and H.E.A. Cotton to Bourdillon, 17 June 1903, Curzon

Coll., Vol. 207.

(60.) Curzon to Bourdillon, 26 May 1903, Curzon Coll., Vol. 207.

(61.) Bourdillon to Curzon, 18 July 1903, Curzon Coll. Vol. 208. Ironically, this small shift may have

been due to the intervention of Cotton, who, perhaps wary, of Curzon's wrath, was now urging the

abbot to "settle matters between yourself and Government." Cotton to Krishna Dayal Girl, 6

August 1903; ibid.

(62.) Bourdillon to Curzon, 11 August 1903, Curzon Coll., Vol. 208.

(63.) Mukerji to E.L.L. Hammond, 10 August 1903, Curzon Coll., Vol. 208.

(64.) Ibbetson to Curzon, 25 May 1903, Curzon Coll., Vol. 207.

(65.) But early reaction from the vernacular press proved surprisingly positive. "It is well known,"

wrote one journal, "that within the precincts of temples all sorts of shameless and immoral acts

are committed by the priests, but the Hindu community is powerless to check the evil ... without

legislation no improvement will be possible." Hitavarta (Calcutta), 12 July 1903, RNN, Bengal, for

week ending 18 July 1903.

(66.) The Universities Bill proposed, among other things, to drastically reduce the powers of the

elected Senate of Calcutta University, alma mater of the Bengali intelligentsia. For details see

Dilks, Curzon In India, 245.

(67.) The law member suggested that Bourdillon--who was about to retire--be prompted to put up

a resolution proposing legislation that the Supreme Government could overrule (thereby, leaving

Curzon's hands clean). Ibbetson to Curzon, 15 and 16 September 1903, Curzon Coll., Vol. 208.

(68.) Curzon to Ibbetson, 16 September 1903, Curzon Coll., Vol. 208.

(69.) Bourdillon to Curzon, 9 October 1903, Curzon Coll., Vol. 208.

(70.) Zetland, Curzon, Vol. 2, 337. For Curzon's speech introducing the Ancient Monuments Act,

see Fraser, India Under Curzon and After, 359-64. The speech made no reference to Bodh Gaya--

but then, as a religious building still in daily use, the temple did not fall within the purview of the

Act.

(71.) The Earl of Minto to Lord Morley 15 February 1906, Minto Coll., Br. Lib., OIOC, Mss EUR D573,

Vol. 7.

(72.) Bengalee (Calcutta), 14 July 1903, RNN, Bengal, week ending 18 July 1903.

(73.) Prativarsi (Calcutta), 15 July 1903; ibid.

(74.) See, e.g., Mahima (Calcutta), 27 November 1903, RNN, Bengal, week ending 5 December

1903; and Bangavarsi (Calcutta), 5 December and 12 December 1903, and 20 February 1904,

reporting the proceedings of a protest meeting of sannyasis held at Benares. Ibid., week ending

12 December, 19 December 1903, and 27 February 1904

(75.) Quoted in Thomas R. Metcalf, Ideologies of the Raj (The New Cambridge History Of India,

III.4) (Cambridge, Mass.: C.U.P., 1994), 155.

(76.) Das, A Hindu Point Of View, 21; and Barua, Buddha Gaya Temple, 33.

(77.) Doubtless, the word had got around that the government of India was now anxious to keep

the lid on the Bodh Gaya dispute. In addition, Dharmapala found it much harder to gain

introductions to prominent people in Britain in the absence of Arnold, who had died in 1904.

(78.) Ibid., 36-38.

(79.) Ibid., 38-40.

(80.) Speech at the Byculla Club, Bombay, 1905, quoted in Metcalf, Ideology of the Raj, 168.

(81.) On this, see his letter to Sir Arthur Godley, permanent secretary at the India Office, of

January 1904, quoted in Dilks, Cumon In India, Vol.II, 133.

(82.) The campaign was formally launched at a meeting of the Indian Association at the Calcuttta

Town Hall on 7 August 1905, with Mukerji in the chair. Gordon Johnson, "Partition, Agitation and

Congress: Bengal 1904 to 1908," Modern Asian Studies 7 (1973): 551.

(83.) The new Indian Constitution that crone into force in 1950 promised full freedom of worship.

The only way such a guarantee could be honored was if the state was willing to intervene to

uphold it. See M.V. Pylee, Constitutional Government In India (London: Asia Publishing House,

1960), ch. 18.

(84.) Nehru strongly endorsed the Bodh Gaya Bill. See his minute dated 15 February 1949, in

Selected Works of Jawaharlal Nehru, 2nd series, Vol. 9, ed. S. Gopal (New Delhi: Jawaharlal Nehru

Memorial Fund, 1990), 110.

IAN COPLAND (M.A., University of Western Australia; P.Phil., Oxford University) is deputy head,

School of Historical Studies at Monash University. He is author of The Princes of India in the

Endgame of Empire, 1917-1947; India 1885-1947: The Unmaking of an Empire; and is co-editor of

Federalism: Comparative Perspectives from India and Australia. His articles have appeared in

Modern Asian studies, Pacific Affairs, Journal of Imperial & Commonwealth History, The

International History Review, and South Asia, Past and Present. Speical interests include history of

colonial India, communalism in South Asia, secularism, particularly in the South Asia context. This

article is part of a large team project involving five scholars based in Australia on the subject of

"religion and government in India, c. 1000-2000 CE."

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