have shown that that measure was not only urgently needed, but that it came too late to cure the mischief already done, and was, if anything, too circumscribed in its scope.  The storm it raised was intensified shortly afterwards by Lord Curzon’s famous Convocation speech, into which the sensitive and emotional Bengalee hastened to read a humiliating indictment of the “nation.”  Such a storm showed how heavily laden was the atmosphere with dangerous electricity.

For some years past the influence of Tilak and his irreconcilable school had been projected from the Deccan into Bengal, and nowhere did it make itself so rapidly felt as in the Press.  The Calcutta Review has been publishing a very instructive history of the Indian Press by Mr. S.C.  Sanial, a Hindu scholar who has had the advantage of consulting authentic and hitherto unpublished documents.  His erudite work shows how the native Press of India first grew up in Bengal as the direct product of English education, and faithfully reflected all the fluctuations of educated Bengalee opinion, many of the most influential native newspapers continuing to be published in English, side by side with, and often under the same control as, more popular papers published in the vernacular.  Among the “advanced” journalists of Bengal, none had fallen so entirely under the spell of Tilak’s magnetic personality as Mr. Bepin Chandra Pal and Mr. Arabindo Ghose, and the former’s New India and the latter’s Bande also published in English, soon outstripped the aggressiveness of Mr. Surendranath Banerjee’s Bengalee.  For though not immune from the reaction against Western influences and in favour of Hinduism as a religious and social system, the school represented by Mr. Banerjee confined itself at first mainly to political agitation and to criticism of British methods of administration.  The new school represented, perhaps most conspicuously, by Mr. Arabindo Ghose scarcely disguised its hostility to British rule itself and to all that British ascendancy stands for.  Hinduism for the Hindus, or, as they preferred to put it, “Arya for the Aryans,” was the war-cry of zealots, half fanatics, half patriots, whose mysticism found in the sacred story of the Bhagvat Gita not only the charter of Indian independence but the sanctification of the most violent means for the overthrow of an alien rule.  With this “Aryan” reaction, having to a great extent the force of religious enthusiasm behind it, orthodoxy also recovered ground, and Brahmanism was not slow to show how potent it still is even in Bengal when it appeals to the superstitions of the masses.  In one form or another this spirit had spread like wildfire not only among the students but among the teachers, and the schools of physical training to which young Bengal had taken, partly under the influence of our British love of sports and partly from a legitimate desire to remove from their “nation” the stigma of unmanliness, were rapidly transforming