value” and that there is no bitterness “about the Poet’s criticism”. He then devotes thirty lines and a half to proving the baselessness of Dame Rumour’s whisper “that jealousy is the root of all that criticism”.
It is curious that the Poet was not suspected by Dame Rumour of being jealous during the years when Gandhism was at its height, but is suspected when it is on the wane! As Dame Rumour has no bodily existence, she speaks through human mouthpieces. Great must have been the importance of these mouthpieces to compel Gandhiji to devote so much space to prove that on this particular occasion she was a lying jade. We wonder who they were or what their vernacular. Gujarati? Bengali? English?. . . . . . . . .
On Gandhiji’s observations on Dame Rumour’s whisper The Indian Daily Mail has made some comments in its leading article of November 8. We reproduce them below, with the prefatory remark that that Bombay daily is edited by Mr. K. Natarajan of The Indian Social Reformer, who has never been more pro-Tagore than pro-Gandhi.
In the current Young India, Mr. Gandhi endeavours in a long article to answer the Poet Tagore’s penetrating criticism of the cult of the charkha in a recent number of the Modern Review. The poet observed that though he had tried hard to fall in with Mr. Gandhi’s faith in the charkha, he had failed to do so, because he felt in his heart of hearts that the cult was in the way of becoming just one of those superstitions which have, reduced the mass-mind of India to an inert mass incapable of breaking though its self-imposed fetters even after it had become conscious of them. Mr. Gandhi begins by saying that “Dame Rumour has whispered that jealousy is the root of all that criticism,” and devotes a paragraph to prove that the Poet has no reason to be jealous of him. “Thus,” he says, “there is no competition between us.” Mind, he does not contemptuously reject the rumour as absurd. He need not, if he did not believe there was something in it, have referred to it at all in his article. Indeed, he should not have done so.
A responsible publicist has only two ways of dealing with a rumour of this type. In fact, this is not rumour but opinion, which no one is obliged to notice unless he thinks it is serious enough to merit criticism. If a publicist believes in it, he should take the full responsibility upon himself and bare his back to the avenging rod, should one descend upon it. If he does not believe it, he should not refer to it at all and he ought to tell the old beldame to get behind him.
As it happens, Mr. Gandhi’s idea of a Poet is utterly wrong. A Poet alone can speak of his vocation. Mr. Gandhi rightly says that “there is nothing of the Poet about me,” but he ventures nevertheless on the dictum that “the Poet makes his Gopis dance to the tune of his flute.” Making Gopis dance is not the business of the poet but of the man who makes his living by puppet-shows. The politician’s trade is nearer that of the puppet-showman than the Poet’s. The implied criticism that Dr. Tagore is a rhymer and maker of Gopis to dance to the tune of his flute, is not so much a reflection on the Poet as upon the critic himself. The old beldame, rumour, has here some material for her whispering malice. But poets have other things to listen to, and Dr. Tagore will not accord her the importance which, we are sorry, Mr. Gandhi has permitted himself to do. The best of us has need to keep a tight hold on himself. That eternal vigilance is the price of liberty is much more than a political catchword. We hope that Mr. Gandhi will not profess to be gratified by our criticism, because we are not. We have written under a painful sense of duty and because we feel that he has of late been less careful of his steps than usual.
Gandhiji takes Rabindranath Tagore to be only a poet that, too, and of a particular variety. As he does not know or read Bengali, his knowledge of Tagore’s works must have been derived either from his English books or from “table talk”. But even among his English works there are such books as Sadhana, Personality, Nationalism, Creative Unity, etc. These prose works do not make even figurative gopis (milkmaids) dance. Nor does a play like Sacrifice or Red Oleanders make real or figurative gopis dance. Of course, it is not denied that Rabindranath is a poet. But his eminence as a poet often makes people forget that he has written with great originality and distinction on philology, grammar, economies, history, folklore, sociology, philosophy, politics, rhetoric, prosody, rural reconstruction, pedagogy, etc. One of his philological works has often been recommended by the Calcutta University to be studied by candidates for the M. A. degree. He is also distinguished as a novelist and a writer of short stories. We cannot speak of other provinces but in Bengal, about a quarter of a century ago, he gave utterance in speech and writing to what may be correctly described as the first constructive scheme for managing our own affairs ourselves. He did not indeed raise the cry of Non-co-operation; but his ideas embodied what may be called the essence of constructive Non-co-operation, as he wanted the people to give a wide berth to the Government and themselves do what was necessary for the welfare of the country.
Nor has he been a mere speaker of speeches and writer of books. When quite a young man he managed the big estates of his father and later in life his management of his own estates extorted praise for its efficiency and
