Sastri on Gokhale

When Hirst’s Life of Lord Morley appeared, there was an agreeable surprise felt in literary circles that, despite the handicap of lack of ample materials and the caution against a ‘superfluous memoir’ of himself by Lord Morley, two well-sized volumes should have been written. Nothing more is needed to convince us of the utter devotion and love that Morley’s disciple bore him. It is a singular trait of the Englishman to preserve in print memories of persons whom he admires or holds dear, however little the information he is able to glean of them. The Indian feels no such strong inducement to write the lives of great men whom he regards as his great ideals in life. On the other hand, we are often told that the very heroes have laid a ban on those coming after them, not to attempt any such biography. Our sense of reverence for the departed is so great that we do not violate their wishes. Perhaps we are more ready to respect their feelings in this than in any other matter. Again we hear of the complaint that is usually laid against the heroes themselves, that they have not left regular diaries or connected correspondence, which alone form the most important or valuable part of a biography. True that a biography of great magnitude, characteristic of the last century, needs all those materials to swell the pages. But if we view biography, with the modernists, as a work of art, we may have to eschew much of the correspondence and documents as merely redundant, and select only such as would present to the reader the complete man.

"Biography, in my view, does not consist in telling all one knows–for in that case the most trifling book would be as long as life itself–but in taking stock of one’s knowledge and of choosing what is essential," says Andrew Maurois in his Aspects of Biography. We cannot forget that in thus making his own choice, an artist-biographer is likely to emphasise the points he deems best in his hero and thereby distort the true picture of the man. But who can assert that the distortion will be less by an indiscriminate collection of all available information in a book? The chronicling of events, irrespective of their value, only makes the biography dull and ponderous with the mere marching of facts in chronological sequence like a funeral cortege. After all, the personality transmitted through documents cannot be as attractive as that visualised from the smallest details and incidents as to what the man looked like, his being in flesh and blood, his voice, his manner of conversation and general behaviour. Indeed our true delight consists in knowing the man as revealed by such vivid touches rather than the hazy figure behind a heap of speeches and letters.

Therefore, we need hardly entertain any misgiving regarding Sastri’s Life of Gokhale, purely on the ground that it formed the subject-matter of extempore speeches to an evening audience at Bangalore.¹ We know the spoken word of Sastri has as much perfection as his written. Moreover, he has invested the narrative with such smoothness from beginning to end that the pleasure of reading it is great. Within a small framework he has filled in the canvas with adequate art that keeps us absorbed. Certainly he could have expanded the theme more, but judging from what we have, in however limited a form it may be, the earnestness and sincerity of the true patriot in Gokhale have been brought into relief as exemplary.

Gokhale’s early life, his devouring passion for public work and his whole-hearted devotion to his leaders, the great Mr. Ranade and Mr. Joshi, are given without the necessary embellishments of anecdotes. The readers need them, though perhaps the listeners when these lectures were delivered might not have felt their absence. The splendid evidence which Gokhale gave before the Welby Commission extorted all-round appreciation for him, apart from what individually some of the members of the Commission had spoken of him. For from almost his first debut into politics, he had been acclaimed an efficient as well, as a public spirited worker. The letter that Gokhale wrote to Joshi then, brings out the rare feature of his character–his profound sense of gratitude to all those who had helped him in life. Especially the last portion of the epistle containing the words, "And now let me say that I have thought it my duty to tell you all this because all this high praise belongs to you and to Rao Saheb ² and not to me. And if it has been bestowed on me, I have received it only as your representative, and now I lay it at your feet and Rao Saheb’s as our ancient honoured Guru-dakshina….."strikes us as altogether belonging to a former generation and to a nobler order of men.

Then the ‘Apology Incident’ is dwelt upon, by Sastri as marking the gentlemanly quality of Gokhale and his early training to look upon ill-informed criticism as but the normal feature of public life everywhere and particularly in India where yet the correct standards had not been set. When confronted with the question, who were his informants about the spurious story that some soldiers had violated the chastity of two women of Poona during the great plague operations of the years 1896-1897, he was heard to say, "I should keep it absolutely private; they did not authorise me to publish the news in England. I did so in the public interest. I am therefore entirely responsible. I cannot divulge the names of those who trusted me." Sastri comments rightly on these words thus: "That is the first obligation of honour he fulfilled." But we are forced to admire the moderation of language that Sastri employs, when the incident demands more than ordinary praise. For who could restrain himself like Gokhale, while so young, from divulging the names in answer to the truculent attack made on him by no less a person than the Governor of Bombay for having been instrumental in spreading a false story? Nothing comes on us with such mellowing effect as Sastri’s own reflection on the apology letter: "This concluding paragraph is not now within the knowledge of many people, and if I rescue it from oblivion, it is merely for the purpose of showing that when, as gentleman to gentleman, gentlewoman to gentlewoman, in future, you intend at any time to tender an apology, remember please, that your apology must be full, otherwise it does not give satisfaction; the apology must be sincere and must leave no sore behind; it must be such as is calculated to wipe off the matter." Didactic as these words are, they bear evidence of his deep understanding of human nature.

A few of Gokhale’s letters have been interspersed in this narrative, which do credit to the author of them. We cannot for a moment forget the altitude at which the mind of Gokhale always kept itself. If he has given utterance to lofty thoughts like, "Moreover, remember that the best part of our nature is manifested not in what we enjoy, but what we endure–there is a sublimity and moral elevation in undeserved suffering which nothing can equal and which is almost its own reward." We find them entering our hearts with an added significance after what we have witnessed of the Satyagraha movement and its apostle, Mahatmaji.

Of Gokhale’s work in the legislatures, of his philosophy of service which bore fruit in the founding of the Servants of India Society, of the great part he played in the shaping of the Morley-Minto Reforms and of his valuable contribution to the South African question, Mr. Sastri has given a really absorbing though brief account. In indicating the mental make-up of the politician in him, Sastri has taken pains to stress the belief Gokhale had in the secret of compromise in politics. In his enthusiasm for bringing the point home to his listeners Sastri says, "There is no man who could hope to do anything unless he understood the secret of compromise. Gandhi began his life by a great act of compromise." Thus he tries to allay all doubts in his listeners. Again, insupport of his argument, he recollects what Gokhale had said when seriously faced with the South African problem at the stage of Gandhi’s passive resistance campaign, "Surely the Viceroy is right and Gandhi has no business to take a vow and tie himself up. This is politics, and compromise is its essence." But history recorded a different result of Gandhiji’s methods, and Sastri has not slurred over it. For he says, "But Gandhi knew his followers and the way to hold them on the straight path of duty, and he knew also the unfeeling Government against which he had to carry on an unequal fight. He declared that he valued highly the support of the gallant Viceroy; but if he must do without it, he would–and rely exclusively on God. Lord Hardinge in the end nobly acquiesced and stood by his people."

The enviable gift of Sastri to enrich a narrative with touches born of naturalness and care for small details, which primarily consist of the physical aspect and familiar gestures of the hero in a situation demanding accurate delineation, has been successfully pressed into service, when he makes us feel with him the pathetic state of Gokhale’s feelings during the South African tangle. He says, "I remember, during this crisis, he held his heart with his right hand and walked with a stoop…..and one day when the strain was unbearable and the heart pain was killing him, he addressed me, ‘Well, Mr. Sastri, you do not realise the danger I am in. If I were you, I would cable to Gandhi and say he was bringing Gokhale to the very verge of death. Won’t you do this, just to save me?’ I knew that it was the extreme agony of the moment that drew these words from him, not a desire that I should act on them."

In describing Gokhale’s political doctrines and his strong faith in the British connection for India, which forms one of the basic creeds of the Servants of India Society, Sastri throws a complacent glance on the recent past and says, "It seems to me that we, in the Society, are keeping closely to the lines that he would have approved."

The concluding portions of the lectures, where Sastri draws lessons from the illustrious life, leave on us the impression that it is the characteristic moderation of Sastri’s language that is responsible for the very modest claim he puts forth for his master’s achievements. For, he says of Gokhale: "His intellectual endowments were by no means what you would call brilliant. Nevertheless, what came to him were great opportunities. Now, here is another matter for contemplation. Opportunities come to us all. Only some of us never see them (laughter). Others, having seen them, do not profit by them. Opportunities of some kind each one of us has. In the case of Gokhale there is no doubt his opportunities were superlative….." In pointing out this, Sastri has only made us realise how much of real work the average individual among us could accomplish, if only opportunities were properly valued at every stage of one’s life. It is the one hope of sustaining oneself above the usual depression and breakdown consequent upon the strange inequalities of existence.

One more splendid lesson that Sastri shows from the life of Gokhale is that he "always aimed high and he was never satisfied until he had done the best, the very best that was open to him." John Stuart Mill’s opinion that nothing prepares a young student for tackling the big problems so much as the attempt to solve a problem somewhat more difficult than he can manage, is in Sastri’s memory when he happily remarks "the task that he undertakes must be a little in excess of his power in order that his best qualities may be evoked."

Save for the occasional indulgence in a vein of mortification at the way public opinion in politics has changed since the days of Gokhale, and the general lack of liveliness that characterises his utterance, the entire tone of the lectures lifts us to a region where nothing else prevails but the high principles and purposes of public life. If the young mind in the school and college feels on reading these pages transported to a higher plane not generally within its comprehension, then these lectures were not delivered in vain.

"I never undertook to write his life," that is how Sastri prides himself on his wisdom, in answer to the question frequently asked of him why he has not attempted a biography of his great master. But the public will remain no longer silent, having tasted the wholesome repast he has so skillfully prepared for them in these lectures. Mr. Sastri’s faultless expression and unerring judgment in the selection of materials must render any subject enjoyable to the reader. Even more so must these lectures, dealing with the life of a great son of India. If Sastri is not the person to sway the listeners’ hearts to this tune, we know of no other literary artist.

1 Mysore University Extension Lectures (Published by the Bangalore Printing and Publishing Co., Ltd. Price Re 1/-).

2 Mr. Ranade.