AKSHAY DATTA AND VIDYASAGAR:
THE TWO PIONEERS OF RATIONALISTIC CULTURE IN BENGAL
Arvind Patel
It may be quite sensible today to raise doubts about the inductive-empiricist methodology propagated by Francis Bacon, but there can be no gainsaying the fact that, historically, by showing the inductive method of doing science he created a whole new epoch. He stood at the interface of medieval science and modern science. It was therefore historically reasonable to expect that when Bacon’s compatriots came to rule this country, they would like to impose the Baconian scheme on the minds of their subjects. But what happened was the exact opposite. Bacon's philosophy of science received relatively little importance here. And such is the innate irony of history that it needed a Bengali to impress upon the British rulers that in the Indian context education based on Baconian philosophy was vastly superior to any other model; indeed, it was the model. In his universally known 1823 letter to Lord Amherst, Rammohan Roy wrote how he was initially delighted to learn that the British were planning to introduce education in those ‘useful Sciences’ which were behind the phenomenal progress of the European countries. But when he came to learn that instead of schools for teaching mathematics, ‘natural philosophy’, chemistry and anatomy, eventually nothing more than a ‘Sangscrit school’ was going to be established, he was disappointed, because in such a school the students would “acquire what was known two thousand years ago, with the addition of vain and empty subtleties since produced by speculative men, such as is commonly taught in all parts of India.”He found no use for this education. What modern India needed was science-oriented education based on Bacon’s philosophy. He urged:
I beg your lordship will be pleased to compare the state of Science and literature in Europe before the time of Lord Bacon with the progress of knowledge made since he wrote.
If it had been intended to keep the British nation in ignorance of real knowledge, the Baconian philosophy would not have been allowed to displace the system of the schoolmen, which was the best calculated to perpetuate ignorance. (p.302, 1)
Drawing a direct analogy from this, Rammohan wrote: “In the same manner the Sangscrit system of education would be best calculated to keep this country in darkness…” (p.302, 1)
Usually the conflict between these two paradigms is described as that between ‘Oriental’ and ‘Western’ systems of education. In my opinion it is much more reasonable to see this as a conflict between the metaphysical and the scientific systems of education. For, Rammohan by no means favoured all kinds of Western education. He knew perfectly well that there were various kinds of Western education. Out of these he wished to introduce one particular kind – that based on Baconian philosophy, which was, by that time accepted as a pillar of modern science. One must realise that mankind had seen the dawn of a great new epoch in its history of intellectual pursuit, that Newton’s success had shown the triumph of the Baconian method. Thus when Rammohan passionately advocated Baconian philosophy, he did so on the basis of facts taken as proven. On the other hand, he was by no means an absolute adversary of every kind of ‘Sangscrit’ thought. He was, rather, an exponent of a version of Vedantism. What he tried was to cast the traditional Indian mode of thinking in a modern mould, which necessitated the marriage of modern India with ecumenical science. He realised, that was the direction where the future lay. It can safely be said that this letter of Rammohan was one of the first symptoms of a fissure in the apparently monolithic metaphysical culture of India.
But Rammohan’s ideas did suffer from an obvious self-contradiction. While he welcomed Baconian philosophy, he at the same time spoke in favour of Vedantism, albeit of a new kind. Paying utmost attention to sense data was the hallmark of Baconian empiricism, while the basic tenet of Vedantism, particularly Sankara’s Mayavad, is that true reality is beyond the perception of the senses, including the mind. Rammohan himself was profoundly aware of this anti-realism of Mayavad. In the same letter quoted above he wrote:
Nor will youths be fitted to be better members of society by the Vedantic doctrines which teach them to believe that all visible things have no real existence; … (p.302, 1)
And yet, despite all this, he was bent upon establishing the monotheistic greatness of Indians as exemplified in Vedanta. But the question was not of one or many gods, it was whether you were able to see reality with an open eye or not. He almost said this, but not quite. This little hesitation has ever since marked nearly every ‘progressive’ intellectual endeavour of the Bengalis. In other words, the conflict between the compromising, hide-bound, so-called Hindu paradigm and the rationalistic, scientific and secular paradigm has been continuing from Rammohan’s time. As shown by Gopal Haldar (2), the rationalist and secular humanistic trend in Roy’s thought found fruition in Iswarchandra Vidyasagar (1820-1891) and Akshay Kumar Datta (1820-1886); while his theistic ideas were inherited by Debendranath Tagore (1817-1905).
AKSHAY DATTA: FROM DEISM TO AGNOSTICISM
Born at Chupigram near Nabadwip, Akshay Kumar Datta (1820-1886) was exceptionally inquisitive from a very early age. Indifferent guardians marred his early education. Nevertheless, by the time he was nineteen, he had mastered Euclid and differential calculus with the help of Hardman Jeffroy, his tutor at the Oriental Seminary, and his scholar-mentors Ananda Krishna Basu and Srinath Ghosh at the fabulous library of Shovabazar Rajbari. He had also learnt some French, a little German, Latin and of course Sanskrit. Physics, Astronomy, Geography and Mathematics were his favourite subjects.
As editor, Tattwabodhini Patrika, 1843-1855, he wrote numerous tracts on Physics, Astronomy, Geography and the social sciences, which were highly admired by the Bengali intelligentsia. In fact, these were hailed by the great Derozian Ramatanu Lahiri as the first instances of profound, well-formed Bengali prose. Akshay Datta was a rationalist pure and simple and regarded the Vedas and other scriptures as representing a very early stage of the development of the human mind. He could not accept the idea that these scriptures enshrined the direct spiritual experiences of the seers of the old and should, therefore, be regarded as authoritative. Devendranth, on the other hand, was a conservative man of faith. After much struggle Datta was able to convince that the Vedas, containing as they did erroneous and irrational matters, could not be regarded as infallible revelations.
He was among the first who came out openly in support of Vidyasagar's widow remarriage campaign, despite the fact that his employer was not very well-disposed towards the campaign. His Baajhyabastur Sahit Manab-Prakritir Sambandha-Bichaar in two volumes acted as the social, religious and moral manifesto for the enlightened Bengali youth. He not only exposed the tyranny of the indigo-planters, but wrote hard-hitting and factual essays against the coercion - both economic and extra-economic - of Bengali landlords, laying bare their collusion with the Company administration.
In 1855, he left Tattwabodhini Patrika following serious theological and philosophical differences with Devendranath Tagore. At the insistence of Iswar Chandra Vidyasagar, his friend and mentor, Datta joined as Principal, Normal School in 1855. A deist and a staunch Baconian from a very early age, he later became openly agnostic, ridiculing the superstitious and inhuman practices of all religions.
Retiring from public life owing to a crippling cerebral disease, he lived and died (1886) in his village retreat at Baligram, Howrah. There he built up a geological museum and a botanical garden, all on his own. On the walls of his study hung the portraits of Rammohan Roy, Newton, Darwin, T H Huxley and John Stuart Mill. He had plans to set up a research institute for studies in Geology, Theory of Evolution, Botany and the social sciences. Although progressive severe illness prevented him from carrying out the programme, he still managed to turn out his two-volume magnum opus Bhaaratbarshiya Upaasak Sampradaay (The Religious Sects of India, Vol.1, 1870 and Vol.2, 1883. In the scholarly introductions to the two volumes, he presented a uniquely empiricist critique of all the Indian systems of philosophy. He showed that contrary to the accepted opinion, much of the Indian philosophical thinking was suffused with atheistic and sceptical leanings and contained much anticipation of later developments in Physics, although lacking in experimental method. This lacuna led to the eventual decadence of Indian scientific temper. Among others, Max Muller and Monier-Williams commended the work for its rare originality.
Datta was the closest philosophical ally of Iswar Chandra Vidyasagar.
VIDYASAGAR
Vidyasagar joined Sanskrit College in 1846 as the Assistant Secretary. He was twenty-six then. With great enthusiasm he drew up a programme for educational reform. The tenor of that programme was to develop through the combination of high grade Sanskrit and English knowledge such a body of men who ‘would be able to effect a concord between Western science and civilization and our mother tongue.’ As is very well documented, this plan of Vidyasagar’s met with the unmixed hostility of Rasamoy Datta, the secretary, as a result of which the former had to quit Sanskrit College. Proud and independent as he was, he took to writing and publishing for a living. His books were a run away success. Among the books he wrote and published was one titled Jiban-Charit (Lives, 1849). Whose lives did he write? Those of eight scientists, among whom were Copernicus, Galileo, Herschel – and of course Newton. This leaves no one in doubt as to the aim of this then 29-year old Bengali Brahmin Sanskrit scholar. He was preparing the soil for the cultivation of the coming scientific mind in Bengal. Two years later he published what was soon to become a classic -- Bodhodaya (The Dawning of Sense). Written for children in a limpid prose that was also his creation, the book discussed the basics of Zoology, Physiology, Botany, Mathematics, Physics, Chemistry, Geography etc. This from a man who was professionally and academically a Sanskrit scholar of the highest order – a Vidyasagar. This book alone would suffice to show what kind of ‘sense’ he wanted the educated Hindu Bengalis to imbibe.
Meanwhile, some people belonging to the minority group among the British administration favouring the spread of scientific ideas came out in support of Vidyasagar. As a result he was brought back to Sanskrit College on 5 December 1850 – this time with full power. Soon he became the principal of his alma mater. He was now apparently in complete command and all set to launch a sweeping educational reform. A new drama involving the struggle between the two cultures soon unfolded. Right in December 1850 he submitted a plan for radical educational reform. Its basic elements were: the study of mathematics, smriti, and Logic (nyaya) had to be modernised along rationalistic lines; modern Western mathematics had to be introduced in the curriculum of ancient Indian mathematics and astronomy; English must be made compulsory.
Benoy Ghosh ( 3) informs us, ‘in the archives of Sanskrit College there is a long unpublished document titled Notes on the Sanskrit College. Hand-written by Vidyasagar and running to 26 long paragraphs, … these “Notes”, dated 26 April, 1852 uniquely and elegantly bring out his educational ideas in their entirety’. In this draft document Vidyasagar writes:
In mathematics, Lilavati and Vijaganita are the textbooks. Lilavati treats of arithmetic and mensuration and Vijaganita of Algebra. These two works are very meagre and from a curious perversion of Ingenuity and obsessed of a right sense of real value and object of such studies, the author has made them so difficult by putting the rules and questions in verse that the students cannot go through them in less than three or four years. The examples are very few. The fact is, the study of Sanscrit-mathematics is not only nearly useless in itself, but it interferes largely with other studies…
Hence the study of mathematics in Sanscrit should be discontinued.
… I wish to substitute the pursuit of it [Sanscrit mathematics] in English (p.517, 3)
Again, a little later, he explains why he considered a knowledge of Western philosophy so essential for Sanskrit students:
Young men thus educated will be better able to expose the errors of ancient Hindu philosophy … Thus he will be a judge for himself. His knowledge of European philosophy shall be to him an invaluable guide to the understanding of the merits of different systems.
In his typically practical fashion he also envisaged that in the process the student “will possess a stock of technical words, already in some degree familiar to intelligent natives.”
Obviously his aim was to integrate the intellectual world of the Bengalis with the modern science paradigm. He knew it was no longer possible to learn modern mathematics by memorising the traditional couplets known as aryas; just as it was impossible to deal with modern science from within the traditional philosophical paradigms.
VIDYASAGAR VERSUS BALLANTYNE
This led to a head-on confrontation between him and the men of the ‘first culture’, i.e. humanities. Dr. J. R. Ballantyne, the principal of the Benaras Hindu University and a famous orientalist, was commissioned to give his ‘specialist’s opinion’ about Vidyasagar’s proposed scheme. In 1853 he came down to Kolkata and within a short span of time presented a long report before the Education Council. He vehemently opposed the idea of making English compulsory for students of Sanskrit. He said, the simultaneous study of Sanskrit and English would lead to the illusion of double-truth in the student’s mind. He alleged that this had indeed been his experience at the B.H.U. According to him, even when a student knew that the ancient Indian and the modern European logic and systems of proof were both equally correct, he was not able to comprehend the identity of the two. The students were incapable of expressing the truth learnt in one language in the other. They could not even properly express the fact that the ‘English’ sciences had grown out of the kernel of truth contained in Sanskrit. Therefore, he argued, it was wrong for the same student to learn both English and Sanskrit. He stated that at the Sanskrit College the students were studying both English and Sanskrit, but it was left to themselves to decide where the two differed and where concurred. He found that the students were not discerning enough in this regard. In order that they developed this acumen, he recommended the introduction of some extra-curricular books.
Apparently this was quite innocuous; but actually it was the manifestation of a serious conflict between the two cultures. Ballantyne was an orientalist par excellence, a representative of the classical humanist school. For him, ‘East’ was the typical seat of spiritual mist. The orientalists were bent upon perpetuating this mystical haze. On the other hand, Vidyasagar’s mission was to liberate his motherland from that miasma. So no wonder he fought Ballantyne tooth and nail. Ballantyne had said that Mill’s Logic was too expensive and too difficult for the Bengali students, so it was better that they learn Mill from an inexpensive concise edition, edited by the scholar himself. Vidyasagar’s riposte was: However difficult it might be, the students must learn Mill’s logic first-hand from Mill himself. As for the expense, his wry comment was, “Our students are now in the habit of purchasing standard woks at high prices, so we need not to be deterred from the adoption of this great work” (p.525, 3). And if at all they should take recourse to a second-hand source, there was that marvellous book of Whatley, praised lavishly by Mill himself.
Another significant recommendation of Ballantyne’s was the introduction of George Berkeley’s philosophy in the English class. Vidyasagar immediately saw that this was nothing but reinforcing mayavad through the back door, for Bishop Berkeley’s philosophy was in essence of a piece with Sankara’s mayavad. Both believed that the phenomenal world was unreal. Reality, in Berkeley’s view, resided only in God’s consciousness. Vidyasagar was quite unambiguous in his assessment of this philosophy:
With regard to Bishop Berkeley’s Inquiry I beg leave to remark that the introduction of it as a class book would beget more mischief than advantage. …[It] has arrived at similar or identical conclusions with the Vedanta or Sankhya… when, by perusal of that book, the Hindu students of Sanscrit College will find that the theories advanced by the Sankhya and Vedanta system are corroborated by a Philosopher of Europe, their reverence for these two systems may increase instead of diminishing.
He was convinced that more than anything else, it was Sankara’s philosophy, reinforced by the practices of Hinduism, that had caused the Indian mind to drift away from seeing and judging the world through the scientific eye.
As for the curious allegation that simultaneous study of English and Sanskrit would create a schizophrenic illusion of ‘double-truth’ in the student’s mind, Vidysagar wrote:
Truth is truth if properly studied. To believe that “truth is double” is but the effect of an imperfect perception of the truth itself … It must be considered a singular circumstance if an intelligent student cannot perceive identity of truths where there is real identity.
The reason could be either that “they could not comprehend the subject with sufficient clarity” or that they were unable to express themselves properly in English.
In this context, however, he made certain terse comments that clearly brought out the famously outspoken character of the man:
It must be confessed however that there are many passages in Hindu Philosophy which cannot be rendered into English with ease and sufficient intelligibility only because there is nothing substantial in them.
He, a Sanskrit scholar of great renown, did not did not hesitate to write that some passages of the revered Hindu texts were actually nonsense. He was then seized with the dream of inculcating modern scientific ideas among the young Bengali educated by breaking the shackles of the age-old metaphysical culture. The 'pundit' also asseverated that
That the Vedanta and Sankhya are false systems of Philosophy is no more a matter of dispute. These systems, false as they are, command unbounded reverence from the Hindus. Whilst teaching these in the Sanscrit course, we should oppose them by sound Philosophy in the English course to counteract their influence.
This clearly shows why he had advocated the simultaneous study of modern English rationalist philosophy and Sanskrit philosophical texts. Rammohan had not realised that one could not accept Vedanta and Bacon in the same breath; that if one wished to put and end to the hoary dimness of the Indian mind, one had first to strike at its root-cause, i.e., at Vedanta philosophy. Not only does that philosophy bar one’s mind from perceiving reality, it also creates a sense of pseudo-superiority, of a smug false conviction – something much more harmful than complete ignorance. It was because of that philosophy that the Indian mind had lost the flexibility that was required in order to receive something new. Vidyasagar realised precisely that. That was why immediately after saying that Sankhya and Vedanta were ‘false systems of philosophy’, he uttered that the Hindus simply revered those false philosophies. In other words, the traditional Hindu mind had lost the ability of discerning the true from the false. They lived in a world of philosophical make-believe.
Vidyasagar was, however, under no illusion as to the automatic ethical and intellectual superiority of atheists over believers and vice versa. He used to make fun and say, ‘How can I, who know nothing about God, lecture somebody [ on God ]?’ Indeed, if he were in any way theoretically concerned with God’s existence or otherwise, he would not have discarded the theistic Vedanta and the atheistic Sankhya in the same breath as ‘false systems’. Thus the only valid conclusion is: while assessing the truth or falsity of a philosophical system, his only criterion was whether that system would inspire men to think scientifically, to understand reality, to recognise necessity. This is brought forth more explicitly in his debate with Dr. J. R. Ballantyne.
BRINGING HOME HIS BACON
When Ballantyne the Orientalist uncritically announced that the English sciences had actually developed from the original Sanskrit seeds of truth, Vidyasagar differed. He said, it was not possible to show ‘real agreement’ between the Hindu shastras and modern science. But even if one assumes, for argument’s sake, that such ‘agreement’ did exist, what follows? According to Dr. Ballantyne, one purpose of teaching both English and Bengali at the Sanskrit College was to develop a group of men acting as a bridge between the torch-bearers of ancient Indian wisdom (i.e., orthodox Hindu pundits) and modern European science and learning. Apparently this was quite laudable an aim – until Vidysagar laid bare its absurdity. Comparing the ‘bigotry of the learned of India’ with Caliph Amru, who ordered the burning of books at the Alexandrian library, he wrote:
They believe that their shastras have all emanated from Omniscient Rishis and, therefore, cannot but be infallible. When in the way of discussion or in the course of conversation any new truth advanced by European Science is presented before them, they laugh and ridicule. … when they hear of a Scientific truth, the germs of which may be traced out in their Shastras, instead of shewing any regard for that truth, they triumph and the superstitious regard for their own Shastras is redoubled.
Vidyasagar simply wanted to leave these people out of his account. It was, he realised, a waste of time to try and bridge them with the modern world of ecumenical science. He conceived the modern age as an essentially new world which called for a set of new people informed with a new culture. These people would be scholars in Sanskrit literature and language, but averse to the anti-science philosophies of ancient India. They would have complete mastery over their mother tongue and be inspired by Baconian inductivist philosophy of science. Their task would be to disseminate the ideas of modern ecumenical science among the countrymen. Thus, while presenting his educational reform plan, he had never envisaged the aim of bringing the pundits who were immersed in their age-old shastras closer to modern science. He dreamed of an integrated culture, not a bifurcated one. In his closely argued counter-report to the council, he explained all this systematically and unambiguously.
This counter-report put the council in a fix. They took a non-committal stance. They expressed delight at Ballantyne’s eulogy of Vidyasagar’s erudition. However, they also suggested that Vidyasagar accept Ballantyne’s recommendations. Now he came out in his dreaded colour. In a letter dated October 5, 1853, he clearly asserted that he would be following his own way and nothing else. He once again clarified his stand by reiterating that his aim was to bring up a band of young men who would disseminate reasonable and scientifically correct facts among the masses in their mother tongue. In a tone of bitter ridicule he said this was more than had ‘hitherto been possible to accomplish through the instrumentality of the Educated clever of any of your Colleges whether English or oriental’. He cancelled the books recommended by Ballantyne, but agreed to introduce an edition of Bacon’s Novum Organum edited by the same Ballantyne. Thus he stood his ground.
CONCLUSION
Vidyasagar and Akshay Datta were indeed the two pioneers of rationalistic, Empiricist and inductive ideas in Bengal, However, that does not mean that they were successful in their mission. Quite the contrary. Vidyasagar died a sad man, living away from the hypocrisy of the bhadraloks, while Akshay Datta, crippled by a progressively disabling disease and a disturbed family life, became almost a recluse, known for his famous text-books, but for little else. The rising tide of neo-Hindu revivalism was soon to engulf their valiant efforts at creating a rationalistic, science-friendly culure.
References:
1) Selected Works of Raja Rammohan Roy, Publications Division, New Delhi, 1977
2) Gopal Haldar, Vidyasagar : A Reassessment, PPIT, New Delhi, 1972
3) Benoy Ghosh, Vidyasagar O Bangali Samaj, Orient Longman, Kolkata, 1973 (translation mine)
4) Asok Sen, Iswar Chandra Vidyasagar and his Elusive Milestones, Riddhi-India, Kolkata, 1977
5) Sri Maw, Kathamrita, Udbodhan, Kolkata, 1996 (translation mine)
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