2 Selected Passages from Three Years in Europe, 1868–1871 (1896)

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London is a very large place, as all the world knows, with a population of nearly four millions. The houses are usually four or five stories high, one of which is generally under the level of the streets. The walls in the outside are of bricks, but within, the partitions between rooms are all of wood covered with paper. There are several parks in London, extensive and open to all, with fine walks, ornamental waters, trees, gardens, flower-beds, &c. It is a pleasure to come and spend a few hours in one of these, when there is nothing else to do. Besides the parks, there are small squares every here and there with railings all round, and trees, flower-plants and walks inside. These are open only to those who live round the squares.^[1] They are called the “Lungs of London,”^[2] for London would be very close and uncomfortable to live in without these open places The houses are very closely built, and uniformly in a row, and the rooms are small and close. In fact every thing here seems to be designed to protect the people from the cold of winter which is long, while summers are, I am told, short. But as there are no contrivances to keep off the heat, London during the summer is, I am told, very uncomfortable. The weather is murky and the days are generally half dark, there being plenty of mist with showers every now and then, but they are not our Indian heavy showers, but slight patter, patter, patter, which is very annoying. Of sun you don’t see much here except in summer, it is generally hid in mists or clouds, and only now and then peeps out with a pale sickly face! There is a saying here that English suns are made of worn-out French moons! and English summers, they say, consist of three warm days and a thunder-storm!

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During the last fortnight (5th to 20th November, 1868) London and in fact the whole of the British Isles have been in a state of great excitement on account of the Parliamentary elections going on. The amount of excitement in London on the day of election was simply incredible. Booths were erected every here and there, and voters came to these booths to give their votes. The streets were crowded with people, those who had votes and those who had not, and all engaged in the one absorbing topic of conversation, while the candidates for election could be seen going about from place to place, and from booth to booth with an agitation of mind which can easily be imagined. All the voters were to give their votes on that particular day, and as the day advanced the public could guess pretty correctly what the result in the evening would be, for the number of votes given for each candidate was published hourly in a hundred newspapers^[3] to satisfy the insatiate anxiety of the people. Wherever the chances were in favour of a liberal candidate, the satisfaction, the joy, and I may say the triumph of all liberals knew no bounds; and where a conservative seemed likely to have the greatest number of votes, the delight of the conservatives was equally great. For every Englishman takes a deep interest in politics, and is either a conservative or a liberal, and accordingly wishes to see conservatives or liberals returned to Parliament. To a reflecting observer this interest which the English take in politics has a meaning and a significance. Every man in this country considers himself as a constituent of a great nation, prides himself on his nationality and the glory of the nation, and therefore keeps an eye on the welfare of his country. If a law is passed which he considers detrimental to the interests of the country, he takes it as deeply as if it were a personal grievance. He has his own ideas regarding the interests of his country, and if in his opinion they are best served by conservatives generally speaking, he is a conservative and votes for conservative members; and if, on the other hand, he believes the liberals to be more likely to do good to the country, he is a liberal and votes for liberal candidates. And thus every Englishman is a politician in one sense, and watches the debates in Parliament and keeps an eye on the welfare of his country. Go and speak to the commonest tailor, the commonest greengrocer, the commonest bootmaker in London, and he will tell you the amount of the national debt, he will tell you who introduced such and such a bill, and what likelihood it has of passing, he will argue with you as to the good or evil effects of a bill lately introduced in Parliament. Your cabman will tell you that this bill will pass and t’other bill not, and your boatman will inform you that them conservatives are no good. Among such a people, as may be expected, most improvements emanate from the people, for the people are the Government. Societies are formed by the persons desirous of bringing on some reform, they have their sittings, their lectures, their pamphlets, they write articles in newspapers, they publish books to support their cause. Thus they go on influencing the public mind and convincing the people that a reform is needed. When they are strong enough they make a representation in Parliament, they have a bill introduced by some member who may be of the same opinion with themselves. The bill may be defeated once, twice, three times, perhaps, but that does not matter, they go on quietly with their work with a patience and perseverance which is almost incredible. They know that the will of the people is the law of the land, and if the people show increasing interest in their cause they are sure to succeed, otherwise their cause must of course be given up. Societies and leagues of this kind exist in England without number, and it is really a wonder how patiently and perseveringly they work. Sometimes the generation which started an association may pass away, but new members come in, the next generation takes up the cause, and the association lives and works on still trying to influence the public mind. For public opinion is the law of the land which sways the country without a rival, and before which the Queen, the Lords, the Commons must all give way. The Queen and the Nobility do not oppose it, and if the Commons act contrary to it, another set of members are sure to be returned at the next election who are of the same opinion as the public. Such is England, a country where the people govern themselves,—what wonder if such a people have secured for themselves an amount of political liberty which is nowhere else to be found on the face of the globe, America alone excepted.

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A year of hard study has passed, and we at last appeared at the Open Competition of 1869. I need scarcely tell you that never before did we study so hard and so unremittedly as during the past year. We attended classes of the London University College and also took private lessons from some of the Professors of the College. I shall never forget the kindness which we have received from them, they have been more like friends than teachers to us. I wish specially to mention the names of two gentlemen to whom we are under deep obligation. I have never known a kinder, a more genuine and true-hearted Englishman than Mr. Henry Morley, Professor of English Literature. We attended his classes, we took private lessons from him, we shared his hospitality, and we benefited by his kind, friendly and ever helpful advice. His house is as well known to us as our own, and his studio,—the walls of which on every side are lined with books,—has been the scene of many a pleasant hour of instruction and advice. Not less are we indebted to Dr. Theodore Goldstücker, a profound German Scholar, whose Sanscrit class we attended in the University College. But his kindness was not confined in the class room, he was ever ready with his advice and help whenever we needed it. A profound but eccentric scholar, fond of dictating and contradicting but really kind-hearted and true, Dr. Goldstücker is quite a character, but is respected and esteemed most by those who know him most intimately.

We passed our days in the University College,—either in the class rooms or in the library. In the evening we returned to our lodging houses, took our dinner, went out for a stroll, returned and took a cup of tea, and then resumed our studies which we kept up as long as we could. And in the morning after a hasty bath and breakfast we went to the College again. We had some introduction letters to some families living in or near London, and we also made the acquaintance of some others. But our time was mostly passed in our own lodgings or the class room during the past year.

At last the time for the Open Competition arrived. It was impossible to form any sort of conjecture what the result in our case would be. For over three hundred English students appeared in the examination and the first fifty would be selected. We did not know where the three hundred odd students had been educated, where they had prepared themselves for the examination,—and whether they would score higher marks than ourselves. Many of them had no doubt attended like ourselves classes in Colleges in London or Oxford or Cambridge,—but many had been specially trained for this particular examination by Mr. Wren who passes many men from year to year. Others had come from schools and prepared themselves under other private teachers.

The examination, one of the stiffest in the world, lasted for a month or more. The subjects are various, but no one is compelled to take all subjects or any particular subject; each candidate takes what subjects he pleases, and candidates are judged by the aggregate marks they obtain in the subjects they take up. I had taken only five subjects, i. e., English (including History and Composition), Mathematics, Mental Philosophy, Natural Philosophy and Sanscrit.

On each subject there is a paper examination and a viva voce examination. You will be interested to know something about my viva voce examination. In English I had given a long list of books which I had read,—every candidate had to do the same. My examiner looked over the long list and smiled and enquired—“Have you read all these books?” I answered in the affirmative, but felt for a moment that I would have been wiser if I had only mentioned those authors whose works I had thoroughly and carefully studied! But my examiner was very fair, he did not test my memory about details, but sought to know if I had generally appreciated what I had read. “Which do you think to be the best of Shakespeare’s plays?” “Why do you think so?” “What characters do you admire most?” “What do you see in this and that character to admire?” “Some say Gray’s style of poetry has something in common with Milton’s; what is your opinion?” “Do you find anything in common between Milton and Wordsworth?” “What do you think of such and such pieces of such and such authors?” And so on, with all the best English poets, until he came to Rogers. “I see you have included Roger’s Italy^[5] among the pieces you have read. What do you think of Roger as a poet?” “What is there that you admire in his style of writing?”

My examiner enquired? “Florence” I said to his entire satisfaction! I felt that I had done fairly well in English,—and even when I differed with my examiner in opinions about authors, he was fair enough to allow me to uphold my opinions and give my reasons, and was pleased with the same. I also did well in the paper examination, and when the result was out, I was delighted to find that among about 325 candidates I stood second in order of merit in English and had scored 420 marks out of 500.

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We had to wait over a month before the result was out. It was a time of anxious suspense. When the result was out I found I had not only been selected, but that I stood third in the order of merit. I cannot describe the transport which I felt on that eventful day. My friends too had passed. The great undertaking on which we had staked everything in life had succeeded, the future of our life was determined, and a path, we ventured to hope, had been opened for our young countrymen.

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The problem of the condition of the poor engages the attention of Englishmen, and is, in the present cold season, exciting deep interest. Notwithstanding many noble qualities, the lower classes of England are in many respects very far from what they ought to be, and their character is soiled by some of the worst vices of human nature.^[6] Drunkenness and cruelty to wives prevail to a fearful extent among them, their independence often borders on insolence, and their remarkable imprudence necessarily makes them wretched. They form the only uneducated class of people in England, and their want of education makes them incapable of improving their condition. What is wanted for them is education, and effective steps are being taken to spread education to all classes of people in England. ^[7]

Among the many evils to which such classes are subjected by their want of education and prudence not the least consists of imprudent marriages. People belonging to the other classes with a habitual sense of dignity and honor do not marry, generally speaking, till they have competence to support a wife and family in a style befitting their rank; but among the laboring classes this prudence is entirely wanting, and the consequences are baneful. The London laborer who has a large family, with his dissipated habits and often his unfeeling cruelty, is one of the most harrowing sights that civilization can hold up to your view.

Would you step into their dwelling-place? You see a small room in a smoky lane, crowded with members of a large family,—an elderly mother with children from the girl of fourteen or fifteen to the baby in her arms—all huddled together in one uncomfortable room. The broken panes do not keep off the wintry blast, and want of sufficient food, sufficient clothing and of coal to warm the room, presents a sight of misery compared to which the poorest classes of people in our own country are well off. The paterfamilias is troubled out of his wits to support such a large family,—the misery and sufferings he gets familiar with make him callous in his feelings, and a cheerless home impels him to seek comfort elsewhere. Where is he to seek such comfort? Why, London is swamped with public houses, blazing with volumes of gas, with comfortable seats and comfortable fires to invite the poor laborers to a few glasses of beer. These public houses are the resorts of the London laborer, and out of his scanty earning he learns to spend something on intoxication. Thus flying from a cheerless home he learns to become a drunkard. What follows?—A scene, the horrors of which it is difficult to picture. Drunkenness brings out the most brutal passions of the human mind, and cruelty such as is unheard of among the poorest families of our country, disfigures the conduct of the London “rough” towards his own kith and kin. Pestered and bothered by a hungry wife and starving children, the drunken husband and father often has recourse to violence, the accounts of which emanating every day from the Police Courts, fail to startle the people only on account of their frequency. Death is a frequent visitor of such homes, and little boys willingly leave them to turn “street Arabs,”^[8] running about with naked feet and uncovered head to beg a few pence from the passers.

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The eternal, never ending, never tiring subject of conversation among Englishmen is politics, and each class of people has its own ideas on the subject. Were I called upon to form and enunciate a general rule on the subject, I should say that such classes whose interest it is to usher in changes are, as a rule liberals and radicals, while other sections of the society whose interest impels them to stand up for the existing institutions are mostly conservatives. I will try to explain what I mean.

Aristocracy.—This is pre-eminently a democratic age, and Western Europe with one voice approves of the increasing claims of the people as against the dominant sections of the European society. The lords have lost much of their ancient powers and privileges, but the spirit of the time shews that they have some more yet to lose. Changes and revolutions, therefore, when they do come on, either in opinions or in institutions, are generally in favour of the people, and the Nobility finds it in its interest to have as few of such changes as possible. The majority of the Aristocracy therefore are conservatives at heart, and even those of them who pass for liberals are only half-hearted reformers compared to the radicals in the House of Commons.

Landed Gentry.—That creature with little education and less general knowledge, with much love for game and hunting and much real goodness of heart and kindness to dependants,—the typical country ‘Squire and Justice of the Peace of whom we read descriptions in old novels^[9] is scarcely to be found in England in these days of swift locomotion and wide diffusion of knowledge, when news travel so fast and education is reaching the remotest corners of England. In these days, on the contrary, a country gentleman is, generally speaking, a well-educated and well-informed personage who is up in the news of London and the Parliament, still keeps a hospitable table and is fond of game and hunting, visits London every year during the “season,” and in general combines the goodness of heart of his ancestor with much of good sense, taste and general education. Notwithstanding this progress, however, there is still a notable difference between the country gentry and the gentry living in towns. The latter are, generally speaking, more advanced and liberal, more active and industrious, and have more extensive views, wider sympathies, and a greater share of zeal and enterprize than the former. Cooped up in his country residence for the greater part of the year, the country ‘Squire, generally speaking, cannot sympathize with the most advanced changes in thought and opinions, and finding himself and his tenants too, pretty comfortably off, is incapable of thinking out any alterations in laws which will better the state of the country. He points to the quiet rural church and the peace and contentment of his tenants as the blessings flowing from the existing laws, ascribes all changes to the restlessness of hot-headed reformers, and swears that the country is going to the dogs with fast legislation, with irreligion and disestablishments. The honest, good-hearted, idle, and good-meaning country gentleman, therefore, is in many cases a conservative.

Town Gentry.—On the other hand, the very high education and enlightenment of the gentry living in towns, their close contact with the interests and opinions of all the different sections of the community from the highest to the lowest, and their intelligence sharpened by constant and varied exercise in the school of the business world, enable them to entertain more extensive views and have wider sympathies than their brethren of the country. They perceive that their own progress and the progress of the country in general have always been due to radical changes in opinions and institutions, and they feel that changes must always be the only means of future progress. The gentry in towns, therefore, are in many cases liberals.

Trades-people.—There is still a distinction, which I cannot but call silly, which places even rich and successful merchants in a class lower than that occupied by the gentry. It is a complaint general among many of the gentry that merchants and tradespeople are following them too close and are treading on their heels, and allusion is sometimes made to those “good old times” when it was something to be born a gentleman! But the daily increasing enlightenment of England is fast closing up such silly distinctions, and every change in institutions leads to further equalization. This equalization is to the tradespeople a consummation devoutly to be wished for, and this class therefore is never averse to change. As a rule, therefore, the tradespeople are liberals and radicals.

Labouring Classes.—This is the only class of people in England utterly devoid of the blessings of education, and it is not possible for them therefore to understand their own interests.^[10] But they regard with feelings of envy and pain those distinctions which have left them so far below the other classes, and they feel that in order to equalization there must be changes,—be their nature what it may. The labouring classes of England therefore are not only radicals but republicans ^[11] many of them. Not that they understand much about republicanism, but they have a vague idea that that form of Government carries the idea of equality, and that is what they want. These remarks, however, apply only to the labouring classes in the towns. In the country those classes have neither the education nor the familiarity with political discussion which would enable them to hold any definite political opinions, and generally speaking, they make their opinions coincide with those of their landlords or farmers with as little ceremony or hesitation as (says the Saturday Review humorously) a gentleman would feel in making room for a young lady. It proceeds more from custom and habit than from premeditation!

Perhaps you will come to the conclusion, from what I have told you, that in the formation of the opinions of the several classes of people a perception of self-interest has a very important part to play, and that every class has a tendency more or less to represent its own interests as the interests of the public. If you think so, I have only to remark that such a tendency is based on human nature. As in a prospect before us a continuous hill appears larger than a distant mountain, as in a picture the objects which are near occupy a larger space than those which are more remote, even so in the great picture of the world before us the importance of objects near us, not exactly by position but by interest, is made larger by the perspective of selfishness. For of our own needs and requirements we are fully aware, but who cares to or can realize to that full extent the requirements of others?

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There is no season in England which I enjoy half as well as winter, and nothing is so healthy and so bracing as a brisk walk on a frosty morning with snow under your feet and a cold, bitterly cold, wind blowing on your face and ears. But it is really painful to reflect on the amount of suffering of the poor in this country in this inclement weather. Thousands of poor people live here in ill-constructed houses, with broken windows which hardly keep off the cold blast, with no coals to warm their rooms, no sufficient clothing to keep themselves warm, and in many cases with hardly sufficient food to give them due nourishment. Many people in this country die in winter either of hunger and cold or through diseases generated through insufficient nourishment and exposure to cold. Were we to sympathize with every sufferer in this world, our life would be one long tissue of woe. It is only by forgetting, nay, closing our eyes to what is going on around us, by smothering the ready sympathy of childhood, and steeling our heart against emotions of pity, that we live and work on unconcerned as we do. It is only in moments of astounding calamities (the present war is an instance) that people take a due cognizance of the sufferings of their fellowmen; but everyday and every hour there are sufferers around us by hundreds and thousands. The civilization of ages has done much to mitigate the privations of mankind, but how much more has it yet to do!

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I have now done my three years’ work in England. I have gone through the four “further examinations” which we have to pass in Law, Political Economy and History and Languages of India after being selected at the Open Competition. I have been called to the Bar after keeping 12 terms at the Middle Temple. I have seen different places of interest in England, and have, I hope, learnt some lessons that will be useful to me in life from the every-day life and manners, the characters and virtues of Englishmen. We in India have an ancient and noble civilization, but nevertheless we have much to learn from modern civilization. And I hope as we become more familiar with Europe and with England we shall adopt some great virtues and some noble institutions which are conspicuous in Europe in the present day, and which we need so much. Our children’s children will live to see the day when India will take her place among the nations of the earth in manufacturing industry and commercial enterprise, in representative institutions and in real social advancement. May that day dawn early for India.