adjacent countries-nay, to get acquainted with the past and present of nearly half Asia.

It is, therefore, in consideration of the strictly and purely humanitarian part which England plays in India, that every European must feel a lively interest in the maintenance of British rule in India. He must be convinced of the indisputable fact that, with the retreat of the English from that peninsula, either the most horrible anarchy will ensue, and rapine, bloodshed, and murder take the place of the present settled, and peaceful condition of the country -for India was never able to govern herself-or that the barbarous despotism of Russia will inaugurate a new era of Asiatic disorders, and sweep away every trace of that glorious building erected through the skill, perseverance, and heroism of England.

It may be that, at a distant future, the various populations of India, gradually getting sufficiently trained in the principles of self-government, and acquiring the necessary notions of our Western culture, may do without the leading strings indispensable for the present, and may be able to stand on their own feet. I say such a time may come, and must come: but then the pupil will separate from its master, not with bloodstained hands, but on the most friendly terms, and the relations between the conqueror and the conquered will naturally change into affectionate memory

and ties of intimate friendship. But since that time is, as I said, a good way off, Englishmen must look with pride at the task still before them. They have done half of the work only, and they must not shrink from the responsibility and trouble of doing the other half. The deep sense of duty, a special heritage of the English nation, handed down to them from the days of their Puritan ancestors, has made them scorn the idea of holding rule over others solely to benefit themselves. This feeling I use the words of Professor Ransome-has never been stronger than at the present day; and, I may add, that I hope it will retain its strength in upholding her beneficial rule over India for many, many generations to come.

In order to effect this purpose, it is of urgent necessity that a great change should take place in the minds of the English people concerning their views on the value of India. Before all, it is that ominous and disastrous indifference, coupled with unpardonable ignorance in matters connected with India, which must decidedly give way to a lively interest and to a continuous care for this question of national importance. The nation at large must be penetrated by the glory of its position, and ought not to shrug shoulders when India, Afghanistan, and Central Asia become the topics of public discussion.

During the twenty-two years that I have been

connected with the literature of this political question, and whilst on my various lecturing tours in every direction of the United Kingdom, I was always astonished and painfully surprised upon seeing how little the British public at large cares about India, and what inadequate proportion the authorities bear to the importance of the question. The number of those who formerly busied themselves with a thorough investigation of Central Asia has of late fearfully diminished in England; no wonder that criminal indifference was rapidly spreading, and that astute Russia, making the best of this English national mistake, could easily progress on her way, and feigning amity could, with the assassin's dagger concealed from view, steadily approach unwary England. I am sure that, from the moment when Englishmen will cease to discuss the question whether India ought to be given up or retained, and when solid watchfulness will displace the present apathy, then the position of Great Britain in India and throughout all Asia will change at once. Russia, her great and most formidable rival, will see that the period of constant trumperies is at an end, that she will have to face, henceforward, not the whimsical views of party politicians, but the will of a great and mighty nation, a nation jealous of its honour, and ready to defend her banner with all her available resources.

CHAPTER XIII.

MYSELF AND MY PRESENT BOOK.

To speak of one self is, according to an Oriental saying, "the business of the devil." It is, indeed, a most unpleasant business, and if I do it nevertheless, I feel actuated by motives I cannot leave unexplained on the present occasion. The position of a foreigner, coming forward to defend the interests of a country not his own, of a people to whom he is an alien, is certainly a very rare occurrence in the history of political literature and politics in general. I do not wonder at all to see myself accused as a fanatic, as a maniac, as a man whose fancy is totally incomprehensible, and for whose doings people could find the only explanation in his Hungarian nationality, a view which I frequently found expressed in the following sentence :-" Professor Vambéry is a Hungarian, carrying in his breast, in indelible characters, hatred of Russia. He cannot forget 1848, when General Paskievitch compelled his countrymen to lay down their arms raised against Austria. He is con

tinually brooding revenge, and thence his constant efforts to embroil us with Russia." Well, I dare to say this supposition is utterly false. I entered the arena of political discussion, as I have already stated elsewhere, from motives strictly humanitarian, and I am in no way influenced either by my national feelings involving antipathies against Russia, or by any special predilection for, or unconditional admiration of the English. I have been often taken to task as to why I cared as a student, and as a professor of Oriental languages, for politics in general; politics which lie outside the sphere of a strictly theoretical man, and may be called quite an out of the way occupation for anybody whose attention is supposed to be absorbed by languages, history, and ethnology. My answer has always been, and is even now, that there is a great difference between the student who spends his life in his library, viewing things from a distance, and the traveller, who moves on the field of practical experience, and who, assuredly, is more vividly impressed by what he hears and sees around him. The traveller lives and breathes for a long time, if not during his whole life, with the peoples and nations he came across in his journeys, and whom he has made the special subject of his inquiries. He likes to indulge in speculations about their future; he is eagerly bent upon ameliorating