Education on western lines began in India by the middle of the nineteenth century with the establishment of a few high schools and colleges in the larger cities of Calcutta, Madras, Bombay, and Poona. The three oldest universities in India, those at the “Presidency” capitals of Calcutta, Madras, and Bombay were incorporated in 1858 and the first graduates in arts and law came out soon thereafter. Normally most of the arts graduates entered the middle ranks of the administrative services and received, according to the standards of the times, relatively attractive remuneration. Also, they were greatly respected in the middle class society of those days. The law graduates also did well as advocates and lower grade judges, and a few even won such coveted posts as seats on the benches of the High Courts.

Editor's Note

The following five papers, presented as a panel on March 22,1964, at the Sixteenth Annual Meeting of the Association for Asian Studies in Washington, D. C., are reproduced here at slightly greater length than in their original versions. The panel was organized by G. W. Skinner with the prior understanding that these somewhat longer versions would be prepared for publication in the Journal. The papers were, however, written independently of one another and have not been modified as a result of the discussion. It is clear that several of them use the term Sinology somewhat differently, but that in balance there is more agreement among the authors than might ideally have been planned in order to stimulate the kind of discussion and exchange which a panel implies. There was, however, vigorous discussion from the floor, of which the comments by Benjamin Schwartz, printed immediately following the papers in this issue, are a sample. We will publish in the November issue comments from two others, who will be able to base their remarks on the present printed papers. Others who may wish to send in comments for publication are invited to address them to the Editor.

One critic of Chinese poetry has written, suggestively: “Western readers are sometimes struck by what they do not find …”. One of the most familiar constituents of poetry, particularly of the lyric, that will not be found in much of Chinese nature poetry is an identifiable grammatical subject. It is not uncommon for a translator of Chinese poetry to ask “… who is its subject? I? You? She?” The requirements of the translation into Western languages suggest, of course, that a subject be supplied. Caught between syntactical correctness and the authority of the text, the translator is often forced to opt for fluency in the target language rather than fidelity to the source language. To be sure, this practice is of no great consequence in most instances. But, if we look at two excerpts, one from the Li Sao and the other from the T'ang shih san pai shou, and compare both text and translation, it becomes clear that there will be times when something other than mere linguistic convention is involved.

Kuga Katsunan, regarded by his contemporaries as one of the three leading publicists of the eighteen nineties, was something of a hero to many young intellectuals who were attracted by his synthesis of liberalism and nationalism in the concept known as kokumin. This effort to construct a theoretical justification for fusing the two predominant forces of modern Japan in a union in which the individual and the state would be balanced in a condition of interdependence was Katsunan's contribution to Japan's early liberal tradition. Rejecting for himself the label “liberal” in its orthodox sense of advocacy of doctrinaire individualism, Kuga was no more willing to regard himself as a “nationalist” unless that term were so defined as to include a positive affirmation of the value of the individual. He sought to develop instead a theory within which liberalism and nationalism could coexist in almost perfect balance.

Ōkubo Toshimichi (1830–1878) emerged as the dominant figure of the Meiji oligarchy in November 1873. He retained that uneasy position until his death under his assassins' swords on May 14, 1878. During the four and one-half year interval Ōkubo served Japan well, although the fact of his assassination and public reaction to it revealed that he was anything but a popular figure in his lifetime. As Home Minister (Naimukyō) during most of that period, he advanced the process of political centralization substantially and channelled state energies and resources into economic development. Authoritarian political techniques inherited from the feudal past enabled him to force the pace of modernization for his country.