[48] Vide 'Voice of Life'—Modern Review Vol XXII, p. 590.
[49] Vide Modern Review, Vol. XXI, p. 343.
The following is a substance of the Address delivered in Bengali by Prof. J. C. Bose, on the 14th April 1911, as the President of the Bengal Literary Conference, which met in the Easter of 1911 at Mymensing.
In this Literary Congress it would appear that you have interpreted Letters in no exclusive sense. We are not met to discuss the place that literature is to hold in the gospel of beauty. Rather are we set upon conceiving of her in larger ways. To us to-day literature is no mere ornament, no mere amusement. Instead of this, we desire to bring beneath her shadow all the highest efforts of our minds. In this great communion of learning, this is not the first time that a scientific man has officiated as priest. The chair which I now occupy has already been held by one whom I love and honour as friend and colleague, and glory in our countryman, Praphulla Chandra Ray. In honouring him, your Society has not only done homage to merit, but has also placed before our people a lofty and inclusive ideal of literature.
You are aware that in this West, the prevailing tendency at the moment is, after a period of synthesis, to return upon the excessive sub-division of learning. The result of this specialisation is rather to accentuate the distinctiveness of the various sciences, so that for a while the great unity of all tends perhaps to be obscured. Such a caste system in scholarship, undoubtedly helps at first, in the gathering and classification of new material. But if followed too exclusively, it ends by limiting the comprehensiveness of truth. The search is endless. Realisation evades us.
The Eastern aim has been rather the opposite, namely, that in the multiplicity of phenomena, we should never miss their underlying unity. After generations of this quest, the idea of unity comes to us almost spontaneously, and we apprehend no insuperable obstacle in grasping it.
I feel that here in this Literary Congress, this characteristic idea of unity has worked unconsciously. We have never thought of narrowing the bounds of literature by a jealous definition of its limits. On the contrary, we have allowed its empire to extend. And you have felt that this could be adequately done only, if in one place you could gather together all that we are seeking, all that we are thinking, all that we are examining. And for this you have to-day invited those who sing along with those who meditate, and those who experiment. And this is why, though my own life has been given to the pursuit of science, I had yet no hesitation in accepting the honour of your invitation.
POETRY AND SCIENCE
The poet, seeing by the heart, realises the inexpressible and strived to give it expression. His imagination soars, where the sight of others fails, and his news of realm unknown finds voice in rhyme and metre. The path of the scientific man may be different, yet there is some likeness between the two pursuits. Where visible light ends, he still follows the invisible. Where the note of the audible reaches the unheard, even there he gathers the tremulous message. That mystery which lies behind the expressed, is the object of his questioning also; and he, in his scientific way, attempts to render its abstruse discoveries into human speech.