THE HARMONY OF VIRTUE

II. 4. Bankim Chandra Chatterji89same time a rock ahead, of which the Hindu genius has yet topilot itself clear. To find your vocation and keep to it, that is notindeed a showy, but it is a simple and solid rule of life. We howeverprefer to give an impartial expression to all our gifts, forgettingthat the mind is as mortal and as much subject to wear and tearas any perishable thing, forgetting that specialism is one conditionof the highest accomplishment, forgetting that our stock ofenergy is limited and that what we expend in one direction, welose in another. We insist on burning the candle at both ends.This spirit appears in our system of public instruction, the mostingeniously complete machine for murder that human stupidityever invented, and murder not only of a man's body but of aman's soul, of that sacred fire of individuality in him which isfar holier and more precious than this mere mortal breath. Itappeared too with melancholy effects in the literary fate of KashinathTelang. It was one reason why he, a man of such largeabilities, the most considerable genius a highly intellectual peoplehas produced, yet left nothing to which the world will returnwith unfailing delight. Telang, it is true, worked mainly in English,a language he had learned; and in a language you have learned,you may write graciously, correctly, pleasingly, but you will neverattain to the full stature of your genius. But it was a yet moreradical mistake that he, whose power was pre-eminently literary,as any eye trained to these things can see that it was, yetallowed it to run in every direction except the very one that naturehad marked out for it. Bankim was more fortunate. He wrotein his own beautiful mother tongue, his best work was literaryand his immense originality would in any case have forced itsway out. But one cannot think without a pang of the many delightfulmasterpieces he might have brought into his garner, if hehad had leisure to work single-heartedly in the field of his richestharvests. The body of work he gave us in nearly forty yearsof intellectual activity amounts to ten novels, two critical workson religion and some scattered literature. Small in quantity, it ispure gold in quality. And it may be that in no case would hehave written much. Nature gives us quartz profusely and mixedalloy in abundance, but pure gold only in rare parcels and infinitesimalportions.