more organic unity is entirely absent; we are giving India what she never had before-unity, cohesion, in a word, nationality,' says Mr Archer again; but as yet it is only a feeble growth. The following examination of the returns given in the Census Report, 1911, will show that, if the essential diversities are less than they are sometimes represented to be, they are still great enough to present formidable, though not insuperable, barriers to the creation of a nationalism representative of the whole of India.

To begin with language-it is very necessary to recall how great is its diversity, for, when the Census was taken in 1911, it was found that many educated Hindus were led by political considerations to 'belittle the great differences which actually exist between the different parts of the Empire; and it is sometimes alleged that there is only one language spoken throughout northern India.'* One is indeed at first staggered when confronted by the statement that the vernaculars of India number 220. But an analysis of the returns shows that the great majority of these 'languages' (many of them may be more properly called dialects) have very few speakers in proportion to the total population; and we find only fourteen languages that are spoken by at least five millions each, or in the aggregate by 283 millions. Of the remaining 206 languages, no less than 186 are divided among a total of sixteen millions, while twenty are divided among sixteen millions more.

There are of course in India, as in Europe, a great many persons who speak two or more languages, but here account is taken only of the mother-tongue, 'the language which each person ordinarily uses in his own home.' If the number fourteen appears less sensational than the 220 with which we set out, the smaller number is still large enough to present a serious hindrance to that freedom of intelligent communication between the various sections of the population using them which would tend to secure some approach to unity of opinion and aspiration.

Without going into the question too minutely, it may be stated roughly that nine of the fourteen languages

Census Report, p. 320.

are spoken by the people who dwell north of a line drawn across the peninsula from Kolhapur in the west to Puri in the east,* and that these nine belong to the Indo-European family of languages. South of the line indicated are to be found the four languages of the Dravidian family. The geographical area of the representative of the Tibeto-Chinese family, Burmese, is sufficiently indicated by its name.

Another figure that quite rightly may awaken surprise is found on examining the statistics of education. The standard of literacy adopted for the Census cannot be described as high-all persons were enumerated as 'literate'' who could write a letter (in any language) to a friend and read his reply'-yet with this low standard the whole population of India yielded only six per cent. of literates, or 18.9 millions of persons in a population of 315 millions. The Government is sometimes blamed for this backwardness, but, while it may be admitted that Government ought to have been more active in the promotion of vernacular education during the past sixty or eighty years, those who advance the criticism too often ignore certain obvious facts. One is that for the direct control of immense tracts in central and north-western India Great Britain has been responsible for only a comparatively short period of time, in some cases not much more than half a century. Another is that money is necessary for the diffusion of education, and that money means taxes. The creating of the immense army of teachers required takes time, while money is needed both for their training and for their adequate remuneration, so that the profession may be rendered sufficiently attractive to secure a steady flow of recruits. Then, again, many persons fail to realise that education is not desired by great masses of the people-the poorer peasants, for example-while among the great bulk of the population it was rare to find till the other day a female who was allowed to receive education beyond the most elementary stage. Such an indictment as that which Sir R. Tagore frames against the Nation' is therefore grossly unjust. 'The benefit of the Western civilisation,' he says, 'is doled

* The course of the Godaveri for some distance coincides with the line, but at its source it is too much to the north, and at its mouth too far south.

out to us in a miserly measure by the Nation, which tries to regulate the degree of nutrition as near the zero-point of vitality as possible. The portion of education allotted to us is so raggedly insufficient that it ought to outrage the sense of decency of a Western humanity.' *

This arraignment disregards all these facts, and in addition, the general neglect by intelligent, responsible Indians of the opportunity and benefits offered by the Halifax Dispatch of 1854, the tendency of certain classes to expect everything to be done for them at the public expense, and the familiar conservatism of tropical and sub-tropical races, which makes them indifferent to such advantages as education presents.

This conservatism has been most marked in the slow advance of female education, so that, though the women of certain smaller communities, such as the Parsis, Indian Christians, and Buddhists, reach a creditable average of literacy, the percentage for the whole female population amounts only to one. Setting aside the female population, the percentage of literacy for males is between 10 and 11. The number of literates is greatest, as might be expected, in the older provinces, Bengal, Bombay and Madras, in which the percentage amongst males is respectively 14, 12, and 138, while in the more recently acquired provinces, Punjab, United Provinces and Central Provinces, there is a fall to an almost uniform level of six per cent. The degree of literacy attained by Burma, namely 37 per cent. for males-due, we are told,† to the free instruction imparted in the Buddhist monasteries-is so high that it must, though the province has a population of only 12 millions, affect the average for all India. But Burma is so distinct from the rest of India in geographical position, in race, language and religion, that it may fairly be excluded from our further reckoning. As the political areas of higher literacy coincide with those in which a particular language is chiefly spoken, it may be concluded that literacy is highest amongst the speakers of Bengali, Marathi, and the four languages of the Dravidian family-Telugu, Tamil, Kanarese and Malayalam.

* 'Nationalism,' p. 20.

† Census Report, p. 293.

In considering the question of the diffusion of general literacy in the provinces in which the percentage highest, another limiting factor has to be taken account of, namely, Religion, which divides the population into distinct communities with widely varying educations! attainment. Thus in Bengal the literacy of Hindu males amounts to 21 per cent., while among Mussulman males it falls to 8 per cent. This is a serious matter for Bengal as a province, for out of a population of 45.5 millions almost 24 millions are Mohammedans. In Bombay & somewhat similar state of things prevails.

If a lingua franca is to be sought for, it will not be found in any one of the six languages which stand high in respect of literacy. The nearest approach to such a universal language is that popularly known as Hindustani, which, in its various dialects, is now classed as either Western or Eastern Hindi. But, while one or other of its dialects may serve one indifferently well, at least along the lines of railway, over a great part of northern and central India, Hindustani will not carry one far to the south of the line Kolhapur-Puri. For the more highly educated classes throughout India it is well known that English is the common language; and it is sometimes urged that no set of figures brings out more clearly than those for literacy in English the doubtful character of the claim made by those who use this lingua franca that they are voicing the wishes of the peoples of India. Though a Though a knowledge of English is spreading rapidly through the country, there were in 1911 only 1,700,000 persons in all India who were literate in English. This figure, however, may be made to appear less insignificant in relation to the total population, if again females are set on one side, and attention be concentrated on the male population of the older provinces. But even with this concession, it is found that in Bengal only 1 per cent. of the male population is literate in English, 1.4 in Bombay, and 12 in Madras. In the other larger provinces the percentage falls well below one.

Inconsiderable though the numbers of the English literates are, it has perforce to be admitted that their influence far exceeds their numerical strength. Thus the Commissioners in their Report on the Public Services in India (p. 15) point out how unwise it would be

'to ignore that growing body of Western educated opinion which is gradually creating a new atmosphere all over India. Even those who most strongly deprecate some of its manifestations realise that it has contributed largely to the great social and religious movements which are aiming at giving a new direction to old beliefs, and at harmonising ancient doctrines with the teachings of science. It is reflected in that new sense of unity which is displacing the idea of ordained separation hitherto prevalent in Indian society.'

However deplorable may be some of the 'manifestations' referred to—and in more recent times they have deserved stronger terms of reprobation than those used by the Commissioners-the Western-educated' section of the people is the only one that has some width of outlook and knowledge of world movements. Eighty years ago the paramount Power set itself deliberately to create this class-a decision described by Seeley as 'the greatest landmark in the history of our Empire considered as an institute of civilisation.' The momentous experiment has justified itself both in its primary object and in many other respects, though it is unfortunate that some of the consequences, not altogether unforeseen, have been allowed to take care of themselves.

So much being admitted, it does not follow that this class has developed, except here and there, anything that may be described as political wisdom or statesmanship. They can organise a clamour against the Arms Act, or, more justifiably, against Indentured Emigration, but, so far, they have shown little power of constructive statesmanship. 'They wanted,' as Sir R. Tagore puts it, 'scraps of things, but they had no constructive ideal.' The commitments of Great Britain in India are much too great to allow the admission without reservation of the principle implied in the saying, 'good government is no substitute for self-government'; yet this is what the memorialists mean when they say, What is wanted is not merely good government and efficient administration, but government that is acceptable to the people because it is responsible to them.' But, when we ask who the people are whom the 'acceptable' Government is to represent and to whom it is to be responsible, the answer is not easily found.

When we ask the further question, Who are to form the