MARGINAL COMMENT
By HAROLD NICOISON WHEN I was in Russia before the first war I was frequently told the story about Catherine II and the crocus. It seems that the Empress, walking one morning in that large but uninviting rectangle which is called the Summer Garden, observed a small crocus in flower. Fearing that it might be picked by some unauthorised person, she instructed her adjutant to post above the flower a sentry from the Preobajensky Regiment in order to protect it from harm. The command was given and entered in regimental orders; from that day onwards, until the glorious revolution of 1917, a sentry remained day and night on that particular spot in the Summer Garden where a crocus had flowered one hundred and thirty-seven years ago. Now it is no good any potential correspondents or doriphores writing letters pointing out that the same story is told of Frederick the Great, Louis XIV, Haidar Ali and Pombal; I know all that. I know that the story is as fictitious as that other story about the Cambridge don who told lies to an American millionaire about how to make a college lawn. But at least the crocus story has some point, since it illustrates the truth that routine orders may be perpetuated long after the purpose of those orders has been been forgotten. Something of the sort must, I feel, have happened to Lord Beaver- brook's editors and assistant editors in connection with the British Council. Some twenty or more years ago Lord , Beaverbrook must have become irritated, either with the British Council itself, or with Lord Lloyd, the last of our great Empire-builders, who was its then chairman. It was sug- gested to the editors of the newspapers which form part of that powerful combine that the British Council should be subjected to continuous criticism. Lord Beaverbrook himself has probably forgotten all about it. But even if he has not forgotten, he is by nature forgiving and generous. I appeal to him, especially after the regrettable Cairo episode, to suggest to his editors and sub-editors (who I feel sure will prove attentive to his suggestion) that the British Council might be left alone for a period of six months. * * *. * It is not a difficult task to expose to ridicule or contempt an institution that indulges in so many various activities in so many different lands. It suffices to select the failures and to remain silent about the successes. Every country has the Press it deserves, and I really do believe that the British Press is, on the whole, worthy of our national character. But once it sets out to be mean, there are so many, seemingly harmless, methods by which its meanness can be expressed. The Press in general is, for instance, hostile to the B.B.C. In principle, I consider it right that a monopoly, being alien to our tradition, should be exposed to vigilant criticism on the part of the public prints. The B.B.C. is in fact recognised throughout the country as such an admirably-run institution that it can well stand even ill-informed abuse. But I have often detected a tendency on the part of our newspapers to compensate for the principle of dog not eating dog by revelling, perhaps too lavishly, in the principle of dog eating cat. Few opportunities are allowed to pass of bringing the B.B.C. into incidental discredit. If a junior member of the engineering staff at Daventry is so • unfortunate as to be caught driving without his lights, sub- editors are apt to attach to this information the suggestive heading "B.B.C. official charged." The B.B.C. is tough enough to stand these pin-pricks. The British Council, being out of touch with any wide section of public opinion, is less immune. I have often felt that it is not given a fair chance. * * * , * Some of its more incidental activities may, I admit, lend themselves to misrepresentation. I have never been able to convince myself that English folk-dancing is as authentic an expression of our rural culture as are the native dances of Java, Yugoslavia, and Scotland, or as distinctive as Czech sokols or Welsh choirs. I question whether the immense labour involved in training Belgian students to act The Taming of the Shrew in English is justified by the result achieved, although my view may be prejudiced by my loathing of all amateur theatricals. I have my doubts even whether the Council receives an adequate dividend on the money it spends in getting elderly English men of letters to lecture abroad or distinguished foreign writers to visit England. But the fact remains that, now that our direct political influence in the world has suffered what may be oniy a temporary decline, it has become of great importance that our cultural influence should be emphasised, organised and expanded. There are those, I know, who feel with Marshal Goering that the very word " culture " makes them reach for their revolver: it is in truth a miserable and tendentious word. Yet it is surely necessary that we, by exhibitions and other means, should convey to other countries the fact that our intellectual vitality and inventiveness remain undiminished. Even more important is it that our scientists and technicians, who are still in the forefront of invention and efficiency, should be afforded opportunities which would other- wise not be available of explaining our methods to foreigners and receiving enlightenment from them in return.
What the British public fail to realise is that the main work of the British Council is educational. The various British Institutes established all over the world provide splendid opportunities, by means of libraries and club-rooms, to enable foreigners to acquire at least some conception of what is meant by the British way of lift. These libraries, especially towaids evening, are crowded with boys and girls, reading English periodicals and above all borrowing and reading English books. But the greatest work that is performed is that of teaching to foreign students the elements of our difficult language and there- after enabling the more promising of such students, by means of grants and scholarships, to come to this country in order to see and learn for themselves. In the old days an Iraqi or an Iranian would finish his education in Paris or Berlin; those few who came to London would find themselves isolated in some grim boarding-house without anybody troubling about them in the least. From Paris and Berlin they would return pro-French or pro-German; from England, as often as not, they returned anti-British. In the days when we were the most formidable Power in the world we could afford perhaps to ignore this disadvantage; we certainly cannot ignore it today. The Council sees to it that at least all these students do not return to their home countries in a mood of humiliated rage. During the last year as many as 3,400 foreign students, scholars and visitors have been brought to this country and cared for in a suitable way. Can anybody really contend that this does not represent a valuable function ?
Having just returned from a lecture tour in Italy and Greece on behalf of the British Council, it might be thought that I have been unduly influenced in its favour. Believe me, the admiration that I feel for the work it is accomplishing is not influenced by such benefits. I have seen these serious, representative, intelligent men and women devoting themselves to tasks which they know to be fruitful and which they know are being well done. A great capital of understanding and good- will is being accumulated. I become indignant when I see that these hard-working people are misrepresented as aesthetic cranks or idlers. They are exposed to all the drudgery, to the many disappointments and rare triumphs, that are a teacher's destiny. Why should the public be told that they are indolent zanies, wasting our slender resources ? The work that they ate doing, often in difficult circumstances, is of real national and inter- national value. Many thousands of foreigners are deeply indebted to them; why should their own countrymen treat them so unfairly ?
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