practical monopoly in the domain of English education, and, by doing so,
exercised a considerable, perhaps even a predominant, influence not only
over the social life but also over the policy, both external and
internal, adopted by their countrymen. Like most monopolists, they
showed a marked tendency to abuse the advantages of their position.
Science was relegated to a position of humiliating inferiority, and had
to content itself with picking up whatever crumbs were, with a lordly
and at times almost contemptuous tolerance, allowed to fall from the
humanistic table. Bossuet once defined a heretic as "celui qui a une
opinion" (αἵρεσις). A somewhat similar attitude was at one time adopted
to those who were inclined to doubt whether a knowledge of Latin and
Greek could be considered the Alpha and Omega of a sound education. The
calm judgment of that great humanist, Professor Jebb, led him to the
conclusion that the claims of the humanities have been at times defended
by pleas which were exaggerated and paradoxical--using this latter term
in the sense of arguments which contain an element of truth, but of
truth which has been distorted--and that in an age remarkable beyond all
previous ages for scientific research and discoveries, that nation must
necessarily lag behind which, in the well-known words uttered by Gibbon
at a time when science was still in swaddling-clothes, fears that the
"finer feelings" are destroyed if the mind becomes "hardened by the
habit of rigid demonstration." All this has now been changed. Professor
Huxley did not live in vain. His mantle fell on the shoulders of many
other doughty champions who shared his views. Science no longer slinks
modestly in educational bypaths, but occupies the high road, and, to say
the least, marches abreast of her humanistic sister. Yet the scientists
are not yet content. Their souls are athirst for further victories. A
high authority on education, himself a classical scholar,[90] has
recently told us that, although the English boy "as he emerges from the
crucible of the public school laboratory" may be a fairly good agent
for dealing with the "lower or more submissive races in the wilds of
Africa or in the plains of India," elsewhere--notably in Canada--he is
"a conspicuous failure"; that one of the principal reasons why he is a
failure is that "the influence of the humanists still reigns over us";
and that "the future destiny of the Empire is wrapt up in the immediate
reform of England's educational system." In the course of that reform,
which it is proposed should be of a very drastic character, some
half-hearted efforts may conceivably be made to effect the salvage of
whatever will remain of the humanistic wreck, but the real motto of the
reformers will almost certainly be Utilitarianism, writ large. The
humanists, therefore, are placed on their defence. It may be that the
walls of their entrenchment, which have already been a good deal
battered, will fall down altogether, and that the garrison will be asked
to submit to a capitulation which will be almost unconditional.
In the midst of the din of battle which may already be heard, and which
will probably ere long become louder, it seems very desirable that the
voices of those who are neither profound scholars nor accomplished
scientists nor educational experts should be heard. These--and there are
many such--ask, What is the end which we should seek to attain? Can
science alone be trusted to prevent education becoming, in the words of
that sturdy old pagan, Thomas Love Peacock, a "means for giving a fixed
direction to stupidity"? The answer they, or many of them, give to these
questions is that the main end of education is to teach people to think,
and that they are not prepared to play false to their own intellects to
such an extent as to believe that the national power of thinking will
not be impaired if it is deprived of the teaching of the most thoughtful
nation which the world has ever known. That nation is Greece. These
classes, therefore, lift up their hands in supplication to scientists,
educational experts, and parliamentarians--yea, even to soulless
wire-pullers who would perhaps willingly cast Homer and Sophocles to the
dogs in order to win a contested election--and with one voice cry: We
recognise the need of reform; we wish to march with the times; we are no
enemies to science; but in the midst of your utilitarian ideas, we
implore you, in the name both of learning and common sense, to devise
some scheme which will still enable the humanities to act as some check
on the growing materialism of the age; otherwise the last stage of the
educated youth of this country will be worse than the first; remember
what Lucretius--on the bold assumption that wire-pullers ever read
Lucretius--said, "Hic Acherusia stultorum denique vita"; above all
things, let there be no panic legislation--and panic is a danger to
which democracies and even, Pindar has told us, "the sons of the
gods,"[91] are greatly exposed; in taking any new departure let us,
therefore, very carefully and deliberately consider how we can best
preserve all that is good in our existing system.
Whatever temporary effect appeals of this sort may produce, it is
certain that the ultimate result must depend very greatly on the extent
to which a real interest in classical literature can be kept alive in
the minds of the rising and of future generations. How can this object
best be achieved? The question is one of vital importance.
The writer of the present article would be the last to attempt to raise
a cheap laugh at the expense of that laborious and, as it may appear to
some, almost useless erudition which, for instance, led Professor
Hermann to write four books on the particle ἄν and to indite a learned
dissertation on αὐτός. The combination of industry and enthusiasm
displayed in efforts such as these has not been wasted. The spirit which
inspired them has materially contributed to the real stock of valuable
knowledge which the world possesses. None the less it must be admitted
that something more than mere erudition is required to conjure away the
perils which the humanities now have to face. It is necessary to quicken
the interest of the rising generation, to show them that it is not only
historically true to say, with Lessing, that "with Greece the morning
broke," but that it is equally true to maintain that in what may,
relatively speaking, be called the midday splendour of learning, we
cannot dispense with the guiding light of the early morn; that Greek
literature, in Professor Gilbert Murray's words,[92] is "an embodiment
of the progressive spirit, an expression of the struggle of the human
soul towards freedom and ennoblement"; and that our young men and women
will be, both morally and intellectually, the poorer if they listen to
the insidious and deceptive voice of an exaggerated materialism which
whispers that amidst the hum of modern machinery and the heated wrangles
incident to the perplexing problems which arise as the world grows
older, the knowledge of a language and a literature which have survived
two thousand eight hundred storm-tossed years is "of no practical use."
It is this interest which the works of a man like the late Dr. Verrall
serve to stimulate. He was eminently fitted for the task. On the
principle which Dr. Johnson mocked by saying that "who drives fat oxen
should himself be fat," it may be said that an advocate of humanistic
learning should himself be human in the true and Terentian meaning of
that somewhat ambiguous word. This is what Verrall was. All who knew him
speak of his lovable character, and others who were in this respect less
favoured can judge of the genuineness of his human sympathies by
applying two well-nigh infallible tests. He loved children, and he was
imbued with what Professor Mackail very appropriately calls in his
commemorative address "a delightful love of nonsense." His kindly and
genial humour sparkles, indeed, in every line he wrote. Moreover,
whether he was right or wrong in the highly unconventional views which
he at times expressed, his scorn for literary orthodoxy was in itself
very attractive. Whenever he found what he called a "boggle"--that is to
say an incident or a phrase in respect to which, he was dissatisfied
with the conventional explanation--"he could not rest until he had made
an effort to get to the bottom of it." He treated old subjects with an
originality which rejuvenated them, and decked them again with the charm
of novelty. He bade us, with a copy of Martial in our hands, accompany
him to the Coliseum and be, in imagination, one of the sixty thousand
spectators who thronged to behold the strange Africans, Sarmatians, and
others who are gathered together from the four quarters of the Roman
world to take part in the Saturnalia. He asked us to watch with
Propertius whilst the slumbers of his Cynthia were disturbed by dreams
that she was flying from one of her all too numerous lovers. Under his
treatment, Mr. Cornford says, the most commonplace passages in classical
literature "began to glow with passion and to flash with wit." His main
literary achievement is thus recorded on the tablet erected to his
memory at Trinity College: "Euripidis famam vindicavit." He threw
himself with ardour into the discussion on the merits and demerits of
the Greek tragedian which has been going on ever since it was originally
started by Aristophanes, and he may at least be said to have shown that
what French Boileau said of his own poetry applies with equal force to
the Greek--"Mon vers, bien ou mal, dit toujours quelque chose." In the
process of rehabilitating Euripides, Verrall threw out brilliantly
original ideas in every direction. Take, for instance, his treatment of
the _Ion_. Every one who has dabbled in Greek literature knows that
Euripides was a free-thinker, albeit in his old age he did lip-service
to the current theology of the day, and told the Athenians that they
should not "apply sophistry," or, in other words rationalise, about the
gods.[93] Every one also has rather marvelled at the somewhat lame and
impotent conclusion of the play when Athene--herself in reality one of
the most infamous of the Olympian deities--is brought on the stage to
save the prestige of the oracle at Delphi and to explain away the
altogether disreputable behaviour of the no less infamous Apollo. But no
one before Verrall had thought of coupling together the free-thinking
and the episode in the play. This is what Verrall did. Ion sees that the
oracle can lie, and, therefore, "Delphi is plainly discredited as a
fountain of truth." The explanation is, of course, somewhat conjectural.
Homer, who was certainly not a free-thinker, made his deities
sufficiently ridiculous, and, at times, altogether odious. Mr. Lang says
with truth: "When Homer touches on the less lovable humours of women--on
the nagging shrew, the light o' love, the rather bitter virgin--he
selects his examples from the divine society of the gods."[94] But
whether the very plausible conjectures made by Verrall as to the real
purpose of Euripides in his treatment of the oracle in _Ion_, or, to
quote another instance, his explanation of the phantom in _Helen_, be
right or wrong, no one can deny that what he wrote is alive with
interest. On this point, the testimony of his pupils, albeit in some
respects contradictory, is conclusive. One of them (Mr. Marsh) says: "I
was usually convinced by everything," whilst another (Mr. J.R.M. Butler)
says: "I don't think we believed very much what he said; he always said
he was as likely to be wrong as right. But he made all classics so
gloriously new and living. He made us criticise by standards of common
sense, and presume that the tragedians were not fools and that they did
mean something. They were not to be taken as antiques privileged to use
conventions that would be nonsense in any one else."
Classical learning will not be kept alive for long by forcing young men
with perhaps a taste for science or the integral calculus to apply
themselves to the study of Aristotle or Sophocles. The real hope for the
humanities in the future lies in the teaching of such men as Butcher,
Verrall, Gilbert Murray, Dill, Bevan, Livingstone, Zimmern, and, it may
fortunately be said, many others, who can make the literature of the
ancient world and the personalities of its inhabitants live in the eyes
of the present generation.
[Footnote 90: _The Public Schools and the Empire_. By D.H.B. Gray.]
[Footnote 91: Ἐν γὰρ δαιμονίοισι φόβοις φεύγοντι καὶ παῖδες
θεῶν.--_Nem._ ix. 27.]
[Footnote 92: _Rise of the Greek Epic_, p. 3.]
[Footnote 93: Οὐδὲν σοφιζόμεσθα τοῖσι δαίμοσι.--_Bacchae_, 200.]
[Footnote 94: _The World of Homer_, p. 34.]
XIX
AN INDIAN IDEALIST[95]
_"The Spectator," July 12, 1913_
Amidst the jumble of political shibboleths, mainly drawn from the
vocabulary of extreme Radical sentimentalists, which Mr. Mallik supplies
to his readers in rich abundance, two may be selected which give the
keynote to his opinions. The first, which is inscribed on the
title-page, is St. Paul's statement to the Athenians that all nations of
men are of one blood. The second, which occurs towards the close of his
work, is that "sane Imperialism is political Idealism." Both statements
are paradoxical. Both contain a germ of truth. In both cases an extreme
application of the principle involved would lead to dire consequences.
The first aphorism leads us to the unquestionably sound conclusion that
Newton, equally with a pygmy from the forests of Central Africa, was a
human being. It does not take us much further. The second aphorism bids
us remember that the statesman who is incapable of conceiving and
attempting to realise an ideal is a mere empiricist, but it omits to
mention that if this same statesman, in pursuit of his ideal, neglects
all his facts and allows himself to become an inhabitant of a political
Cloud Cuckoo-land, he will certainly ruin his own reputation, and may
not improbably inflict very great injury upon the country and people
which form the subject of his crude experiments. On the whole, if we are
to apply that proverbial philosophy which is so dear to the mind of all
Europeanised Easterns to the solution of political problems, it will
perhaps be as well to bear constantly in mind the excellent Sanskrit
maxim which, amidst a collection of wise saws, Mr. Mallik quotes in his
final chapter, "A wise man thinks of both _pro_ and _con_."
Starting with a basis of somewhat extreme idealism, it is not surprising
that Mr. Mallik has developed not only into an ardent Indian
nationalist, but also into an advanced Indian Radical. As to the latter
characteristic, he manifestly does not like the upper classes of his own
country. They are, in fact, as bad or even worse than English peers.
They are "like the 'idle rich' elsewhere; they squander annually in
luxuries and frivolities huge sums of money, besides hoarding up
jewels, gold and silver of immense value." Occasionally, they pose as
"upholders of the Government." "Even so they do not conceal their fangs.
When small measures of conciliation have in recent times been proposed,
the 'Peers' in India have not been slow to proclaim through their organs
that the Government were rousing their suspicion."
Turning, however, to the relations between Europe and Asia, Mr. Mallik
says that it is often asserted that the two continents "cannot
understand each other--that Asia is a mystery to Europe, and must always
remain so." Most people who have considered this subject have so far
thought that the main reason why Europeans find it difficult to
understand Asia is because, in some matters, Asia is difficult to
understand. They have, therefore, been deeply grateful to men like the
late Sir Alfred Lyall, who have endeavoured with marked ability and
sympathy to explain the mystery to them. But Mr. Mallik now explains to
us that no such gratitude is due, for the reason why Asia is so often
misunderstood is not on account of any difficulties attendant on
comprehension, but because those who have paid special attention to the
subject are "persons whose nature or training or self-interest leads
them not to wish the understanding to take place." Whether Mr. Mallik
has done much to lighten the prevailing darkness and to explain the East
to the West is perhaps somewhat doubtful, but it is quite certain that
he has done his utmost to explain to those of his countrymen who are
conversant with the English language the attitude which, in his opinion,
they should adopt towards Westerns and Western civilisation. In one of
the sweeping generalities in which his work abounds, Mr. Mallik says
with great truth, that "however manners may differ ... nothing is gained
by nursing a feeling of animosity." It is to be regretted that Mr.
Mallik has not himself acted on the wise principle which he here
enunciates. He has, however, not done so. Under the familiar garb of a
friend who indulges in an excess of candour he has made a number of
observations which, whether true or false, are eminently calculated to
inflame that racial animosity which it is the duty of every well-wisher
of India to endeavour by every means in his power to allay. He makes a
lengthy and elaborate comparison between East and West, in which every
plague-spot in European civilisation is carefully catalogued. Every
ulcer in Western life is probed. Every possible sore in the connection
between the European and Asiatic is made to rankle. On the other hand,
with the cries of the Christians massacred at Adana still ringing in
our ears, Mr. Mallik, forgetful apparently of the fact that the Turk is
an Asian, tells us that "Asia, typical of the East, looks upon all races
and creeds with absolute impartiality," and, further, that "gentleness
and consideration are the peculiar characteristics of the East, as
overbearing and rudeness, miscalled independence, and not unfrequently
deserving to be called insolence, are products of the West."
But it is the word Imperialism which more especially excites Mr.
Mallik's wrath. In the first place, he altogether denies the existence
of an "imperial race," being convinced of its non-existence by the
strangely inconclusive argument that "if a race is made by nature
imperial, every member of that race must be imperial too and equally
able to rule." In the second place, he points out that the results which
flow from the Imperial idea are in all respects deplorable. The East had
"always believed that mankind could be made saints and philosophers,"
but the West, represented by Imperialism, stepped in and "shattered its
belief." The West, as shown by the deference now paid to Japan, "values
the bloodthirsty propensities much more than humane activities." "The
expressed desire of the Imperialist is to let darkness flourish in order
that he may personally benefit by it.... Empire and Imperialism mean
the triumph of retrograde notions and the infliction of insult and
suffering on three hundred millions of human beings." It is this
Imperial policy which has led to the most gross injustice being
inflicted on every class of the community in India. As regards the civil
services, "the policy of fat pay, ease, perquisites, and praise are the
share of the European officers, and hard work and blame that of the
Indian rank and file." It is the same in the army. "In frontier wars the
Indian troops have had to bear the brunt of the fighting, the European
portion being 'held in reserve' and coming up at the end to receive all
the glory of victory and the consequent rewards." It is sometimes said
that the masses in India trust Englishmen more than their own
countrymen. That this statement is erroneous is clearly proved by "the
absence of interest of the rulers themselves in the moral and material
advancement of the poorer classes." Not content with uttering this
prodigious falsehood, Mr. Mallik adds a further and fouler calumny. He
alludes to the rudeness at times displayed by Englishmen towards the
natives of India--a feature in Indian social life which every
right-thinking Englishman will be prepared to condemn as strongly as Mr.
Mallik. But, not content with indicating the evil, Mr. Mallik alleges
that any special act of insolence perpetrated by an Indian official
meets with the warm approval of the Government. Promotion, he says, is
"usual in such cases." Again, Mr. Mallik's dislike and distrust of
Moslems crops up whenever he alludes to them. Nevertheless, he does not
hesitate to denounce that Government whose presence alone prevents an
outbreak of sectarian strife for "sedulously fomenting" religious
animosities with a view to arresting the Nationalist movement.
Similarly, the constitution of the Universities has been changed with a
view to rendering the youth of India "stupid and servile" instead of
"clever and patriotic."
Moreover, whilst India, under the sway of Imperialism, is "drifting to
its doom," Mr. Mallik seems to fear that a somewhat similar fate awaits
England. He observes many symptoms of decay to which, for the most part,
Englishmen are blind. He greatly fears that "the liberties of the people
are not safe when the Tory Party continues in power for a long period."
Neither is the prospect of Liberal ascendancy much less gloomy. Liberals
are becoming "Easternised." They are getting "more and more leavened by
reaction imported from India." It really looks as if "English Liberalism
might soon sink to a pious tradition." In the meanwhile, Mr. Mallik,
with true Eastern proclivities, warmly admires that portion of the
English system which Englishmen generally tolerate as a necessary evil,
but of which they are by no means proud. Most thinking men in this
country resent the idea of Indian interests being made a shuttlecock in
the strife of party. Not so Mr. Mallik. He shudders at the idea of
Indian affairs being considered exclusively on their own merits. "If it
is no party's duty to champion the cause of any part of the Empire, that
part must be made over to Satan, or retained, like a convict settlement,
for the breeding of 'Imperial' ideas." He is himself quite prepared to
adopt an ultra-partisan attitude. In spite of his evident dislike to the
nomination of any Englishman to take part in the administration of
India, he warmly applauds the appointment of "a young and able official"
to the Viceroy's Council, because he was "associated with a great
Liberal Minister of the Crown."
It is not quite clear what, beyond a manifestation of that sympathy
which his own writings are so well calculated to alienate, Mr. Mallik
really wants. He thinks that there is "perhaps some truth" in the
assertion that the "Aryans of India are not yet fit for
self-government," and he says that "wise Indians do not claim at once
the political institutions that Europeans have gained by a long course
of struggle and training, the value of which in advancing happiness is
not yet always perceptible in Europe." On the other hand, he appears to
be of opinion that the somewhat sweeping reforms recently inaugurated by
Lord Morley and Lord Minto do not go far enough. The only practical
proposals he makes are, first, that the old _punchayet_ system in every
village should be revived, and that a consultative assembly should be
created, whose functions "should be wholly social and religious,
political topics being out of its jurisdiction." He adds--and there need
be no hesitation in cordially accepting his view on this point--that the
"plan would have to be carefully thought out" before it is adopted.
The problem of how to govern India is very difficult, and is
unquestionably becoming more and more so every year. Although many of
the slanders uttered by Mr. Mallik are very contemptible, it is useless
to ignore the fact that they are believed not only by a large number of
the educated youth of India, of which he may perhaps to some extent be
considered a type, but also by many of their English sympathisers.
Moreover, in spite of much culpable misstatement and exaggeration, Mr.
Mallik may have occasionally blundered unawares into making some
observations which are deserving of some slight consideration on their
own merits. The only wise course for English statesmen to adopt is to
possess their souls in patience, to continue to govern India in the best
interests of its inhabitants, and to avoid on the one hand the extreme
of repressive measures, and on the other hand the equally dangerous
extreme of premature and drastic reform in the fundamental institutions
of the country. In the meanwhile, it may be noted that literature such
as Mr. Mallik's book can do no good, and may do much harm.
[Footnote 95: _Orient and Occident_. By Manmath C. Mallik. London: T.
Fisher Unwin. 10s. 6d.]
XX
THE FISCAL QUESTION IN INDIA
_"The Spectator," July 19, 1913_