The Spoilt Child

A TALE OF HINDU DOMESTIC LIFE.

PEARY CHAND MITTER

TRANSLATED BY
G. D. OSWELL

THE SPOILT CHILD

THE SPOILT CHILD:
A TALE OF HINDU DOMESTIC LIFE.

BY

PEARY CHAND MITTER
(TEK CHAND THAKUR)

TRANSLATED BY
G. D. OSWELL, M.A.,
Court of Wards, Bengal.

Calcutta:
THACKER, SPINK AND CO.
1893.
[All rights reserved]


PRINTED BY THACKER, SPINK AND CO., CALCUTTA.


TO MY FATHER
REV. HENRY LLOYD OSWELL, M.A.,
WHO, AFTER 60 YEARS OF ACTIVE WORK
IN THE CHURCH,
HAS SOUGHT A WELL-EARNED RETIREMENT,
THIS VOLUME
IS
AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED.

PREFACE.

The author of this novel, Babu Peary Chand Mitter, was born in the
year 1814.

He represented the well-educated, thoroughly earnest, and courteous
Bengali gentleman of the old school.

His life was devoted to the good of his fellow-countrymen, and
he was especially eager in the cause of female education. In the
preface to one of his works, written with that object in view,
he writes:-- "I was born in the year 1814. While a pupil of the
_Páthshálá_ at home, I found my grandmother, mother, and aunts
reading Bengali books. They could write in Bengali and keep accounts.
There were no female schools then, nor were there suitable books
for the females. My wife was very fond of reading, and I could
scarcely supply her with instructive books. I was thus forced
to think how female education could be promoted in a substantial
way. The conclusion I came to was that, unless womanhood were placed
on a spiritual basis, education would never be productive of real
good. For the furtherance of this end I have been humbly working."

Amongst the books he published with this end in view are the
"Ramaranjika," the "Abhedi," and the "Adhyátwiká." The
"Ramaranjika" deals with female education under different aspects,
and gives examples drawn from the lives of eminent Englishwomen,
as well as biographical sketches of distinguished Hindu women,
drawn from history and tradition. Of the "Abhedi" the author
says:-- "It is a spiritual novel in Bengali, in which the hero
and heroine have been described as earnest seekers after the
knowledge of the soul, and as obtaining spiritual light by the
education of pain." Of the "Adhyátwiká," the author tells us:--
"It brings before its readers the conversation and manners of
different classes of people, in different circumstances, which
have been pourtrayed in different styles, and which may perhaps
be useful to foreigners wishing to acquire a colloquial knowledge
of the Bengali language."

Babu Peary Chand Mitter was a man who keenly felt the evils in
society around him, and he used his pen in the cause of temperance
and the purity of the domestic circle as against drunkenness and
debauchery; amongst his writings having this object in view is the
"Mada Kháoya bara dáya," or "The great evils of dram-drinking." It
is a novel marked by great humour, and shows the author to have
been a satirist of no mean power.

Besides these novels he wrote "The Life of David Hare" both
in Bengali and in English. He also contributed essays to
_The Calcutta Review_, and an American publication called
_The Banner of Light_, besides writing articles for the
Agri-Horticultural Society of India.

Babu Peary Chand Mitter died in 1883.

The novel "Alaler Gharer Dulál," or "The Spoilt Darling of an
Ill-regulated House," was written more than forty years ago, and
was very well received, as the criticisms of the day show.
_The Calcutta Review_ of the day says:-- "We hail this book as the
first novel in the Bengali language. Tek Chand Thakur has written a
tale the like of which is not to be found within the entire range
of Bengali literature. Our author's quiet humour reminds us of
Goldsmith, while his livelier passages bring to our recollection the
treasures of Fielding's wit. He seems to be familiar with Defoe,
Fielding, Scott, Dickens, Bulwer, Thackeray, and other masters
of fiction."

Other critics of the day compared him to a Moliére or a Dickens.

Mr. John Beames, in his "Modern Aryan Languages of India," writes:--
"Babu Peary Chand Mitter, who writes under the _nom de plume_ of
Tek Chand Thakur, has produced the best novel in the language
'Alaler Gharer Dulál.' He has had many imitators, and certainly
stands high as a novelist. His story might fairly claim to be
ranked with some of the best comic novels in our own language for
wit, spirit, and clever touches of nature. He puts into the mouth
of each of his characters the appropriate method of talking, and
thus exhibits to the full the extensive range of vulgar idioms
which his language possesses."

In an introductory essay on Bengali novels, in his translation
of Babu Bunkim Chandra Chatterjee's novel "Kopal Kundala," Mr.
Phillips writes:-- "The position and character of Bengali
literature is peculiar. A backward people have, so to speak,
rushed into civilization at one bound: old customs and prejudices
have been displaced, _uno ictu_, by a state of enlightenment and
advanced ideas. The educated classes have suddenly found themselves
face to face with the richest gems of Western learning and
literature. The clash of widely divergent stages of civilization,
the juxtaposition of the most advanced thought with comparative
barbarism, has produced results which, though perhaps to be
expected, are somewhat curious. If one tries to close a box with
more than it can hold the lid may be unhinged, -- new wine may
burst old bottles. The colliding forces of divergent stages of
civilization have produced a literature that for want of a better
expression may be called a hybrid compromise between Eastern and
Western ideas. So we find that the Bengali novel is to a great
extent an exotic. It is a hot-house plant which has been brought
from a foreign soil; but even crude imitations are better than
the farragos of original nonsense, lists of which appear from time
to time in the pages of the _Calcutta Gazette_.

The above remarks are merely general, and there exist of course,
bright and notable exceptions, among whom may be mentioned the
names of Peary Chand Mitter (the father of Bengali novelists),
Bunkim Chandra Chatterjea, Romesh Chandra Dutt, and Tarak Nath
Ganguli.

The 'Alaler Gharer Dulál' of Peary Chand Mitter may be called
a truly indigenous novel, in which some of the reigning vices
and follies of the time are held up to scorn and derision. A
deep vein of moral earnestness runs through all the writings of
Peary Chand Mitter, and he takes the opportunity to interweave
with the incidents of his story disquisitions on virtue and vice,
truthfulness and deceit, charity and niggardliness, hypocrisy and
straight-forwardness. Not only general vices, such as drinking
and debauchery, but particular customs, such as a Kulin's marrying
a dozen wives, and living at their expense, are condemned in no
measured terms. The book is written in a plain colloquial style,
which, combined with a quiet humour, procured for it a considerable
degree of popularity.

As further evidence, if such were wanting, of the popularity
of this novel, it may be mentioned that it has been dramatized,
having been published in the form of a _natak_ or play, by Babu
Hira Lall Mitter.

The leading characteristics of the novel, as they have appeared
to the translator, are the humour, pathos, and satire that pervade
almost every page of it.

The humour, though it may occasionally be broad, can never be
called coarse, and much of it is the cultured humour that might
be expected from a writer well acquainted with his own ancient
classics. If Thackeray is the type of the cultured humorist of
the West, Peary Chand Mitter is the type of the cultured humorist
of the East.

The pathos is especially noticeable in some of the scenes which
the author has pourtrayed for us with such vivid reality where
the poor are brought before us.  We see the utter dependence of
the poor upon the generosity of the rich, a generosity that is
rarely appealed to in vain: there is pathos too in the scene that
brings before us the ryot and his landlord; and in the scenes in
the zenana and the bathing-_ghât_ where we have an insight into the
lives and the thoughts of both the upper and lower classes of the
women of the country.  There is a deep pathos in the scene that
brings before us the old man at Benares, spending the evening of
his days in reading and meditation, in "The Holy City :" it is
a scene that gives us an insight into the deeper religious side
of the Hindu character.

The satire is only merciless where it is directed against the
vices of drinking and debauchery, or against the custom of the much
marrying of Kulins, or the marrying of old men to young girls, or
solely for money. In other cases it is not unkindly, especially
where it is directed against that not uncommon failing both in
the West and the East, which Shakespeare has immortalized as "too
much respect upon the world," and which is largely exhibited in
the East in the form of lavish expenditure, regardless of debt,
upon social and religious ceremonies.

Amongst other characteristics of this novel may be noted that deep
vein of moral earnestness, already referred to, which runs through
the whole book, and which is chiefly exhibited in the form of moral
reflections, such as are so common in many of the Sanscrit tales.

Dramatic vividness is another noticeable feature of the book:
a few strokes of the pen suffice to bring before us, as living
realities, characters that are drawn from every class of life, and
scenes that deal with almost every incident of life in Bengal. In
fact a far more vivid picture of social life in Bengal, both in
its inner and outer aspects, is presented to us in the pages of
this book, than is presented in the pages of many books purporting
to give us an account of that life.

And, with this dramatic vividness, there is a general faithfulness
to reality that will be appreciated by those who have lived for any
time amidst the scenes described; for, though the book describes
life in Bengal as it appeared to the eyes of an acute observer
writing more than forty years back, the picture, in its general
outlines, is as true of the life of the people now as it was then.

Another noticeable feature of the book is the rhythmic flow which
marks its language. This is a feature which appears to characterize
all books written for the people in the language best understood
of the people, no matter what that language is.

As regards the language in which Peary Chand Mitter wrote this
novel, the _Calcutta Review_ of the day writes:-- "Endowed, as he
was, with strong common sense, as well as high culture, he saw no
reason why this idol of unmixed diction should receive worship
at his hands, and he set about writing 'Alaler Gharer Dulál'
in a spirit at which the Sanscritists stood aghast, and shook
their heads.  Going to the opposite extreme in point of style, he
vigorously excluded from his works, except on very rare occasions,
every word and phrase that had a learned appearance. His own works
suffered from the exclusion, but the movement was well-timed. He
scattered to the winds the time-honoured commonplaces, and drew
upon nature and life for his materials. His success was eminent
and well-deserved."

One feature that has especially struck the translator in
transferring this novel from its original Bengali into English,
is that he has found it necessary to omit nothing, on the score
of indelicacy, or bad taste, -- a remark which could not be made
of every Bengali novel. The author has written with the maxim of
the old Roman satirist ever before his eyes, -- _maxima debetur
puero reverentia_.

The translator has had three classes of readers before his eyes,
in making this translation.

It seemed to him that so excellent a picture of social life in
Bengal could not but be interesting to those Englishmen and
Englishwomen who are interested in the lives of their fellow-subjects
in India.

It also occurred to him that as the rising generation of Bengalis
no longer read Bengali literature as of old, it might interest
them to see, in an English dress, a novel that has been so popular
amongst their older compatriots.

English students of the Bengali language and its literature may
also find the translation of use, as it has been made literal as
far as was possible.

The task of translation, though it has been a pleasant one,
has not been easy; owing to the many difficulties in the way
of adequately rendering into English, without the qualities of
the original suffering in the transfer, a book so essentially
colloquial and idiomatic in style and character. The fact that
Professor Cowell at one time contemplated a translation of this
novel, but abandoned the idea owing to this very difficulty, has
made the translator still more diffident of success, and he can
only leave it to the indulgence of his Bengali readers to decide
how far he has succeeded in his translation, in doing justice to
the spirit of the original.

The translator's thanks are due to Babu Mohiny Mohun Chatterjea,
Solicitor, Calcutta, for his kindness in revising the translation
for him, and to Babu Amrita Lall Mitter, the Honorary Secretary to
the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals in Calcutta,
and son of the author, for allowing him to publish it.


CONTENTS

Chapter I Matilall at Home
" II Matilall's English Education
" III Matilall at School
" IV Matilall in the Police Court
" V Baburam in Calcutta
" VI Matilall's Mother and Sisters
" VII Trial of Matilall
" VIII Baburam Returns Home
" IX Matilall and his Friends
" X The Marriage Contract
" XI The Poetaster
" XII Barada Babu
" XIII Barada Babu's Pupil
" XIV The False Charge
" XV Trial of Barada Babu
" XVI Thakchacha at Home
" XVII Baburam's Second Marriage
" XVIII Mozoomdar on the Marriage
" XIX Death of Baburam Babu
" XX The Shraddha Ceremony
" XXI Matilall on the Guddee
" XXII Matilall in Business
" XXIII Matilall at Sonagaji
" XXIV Thakchacha Apprehended
" XXV Matilall in Jessore
" XXVI Thakchacha in Jail
" XXVII Trial at the High Court
" XXVIII A Philanthropist
" XXIX Bancharam in Possession
" XXX Matilall at Benares: Home Again
Notes


THE PRINCIPAL CHARACTERS

BABURAM BABU - A Zemindar
Matilall - His Eldest Son
Ramlall - His Youngest Son
Baburam's First Wife - Mother of his Children
His Second Wife - A Young Girl
Pramada - His Married Daughter
Mokshada - His Widowed Daughter
Beni Babu - A Friend
Becharam - A Friend
Barada Babu - The Kayasth Reformer
Bancharam - A Lawyer's Clerk
Thakchacha - A Mahomedan Friend
Bahulya - A Mahomedan
Haladhar, Gadadhar, Dolgovinda, Mangovinda - Friends of Matilall
Matilall's Wife
Mr. John - A Calcutta Merchant
Mr. Butler - A Solicitor
Mr. Sherborn - A school-master
Premnarayan Mozoomdar - A House Clerk


THE SPOILT CHILD.

CHAPTER I.  MATILALL AT HOME.

BABURAM BABU, a resident of Vaidyabati, was a man of large
experience in business affairs: he was famous for his long
service in the Revenue and Criminal Courts.  Now to walk uprightly
without taking bribes when engaged in the public service, is not
a very long-established custom. Baburam Babu's procedure was in
accordance with the old style, and being skilful at his work,
he had succeeded, by servility and cringing, in imposing on his
superior officers; as a consequence of which he had acquired
considerable wealth within a very short time. In this country a
man's reputation keeps pace with the increase of his riches or
with his advancement: learning and character have not anything
like the same respect paid to them. There had been a time when
Baburam Babu's position had been a very inferior one, and when
only a few individuals in his village had paid him any attention;
but later, as he came into the possession of fine buildings,
gardens, estates, and a good deal of influence in many ways,
he found himself with a host of friends as his followers and
advisers. Whenever during his intervals of leisure he went to
his house, his reception-room would be crowded with people. It is
always the case that when a man has a sudden accession of wealth
there is a rush of people to him, just as the shop of a sweetmeat
seller will become full of flies as long as there are sweetmeats
to be had. At whatever time you might visit Baburam Babu's house
you would always find people with him: rich and poor, they would
all sit round and flatter him, the more intelligent among them in
indirect fashion only, the lesser folk outright and unblushingly,
agreeing with everything he said. After some time spent in the
way we have described, Baburam Babu took his pension, and remained
at home occupied in the management of his estates and in trade.

Now in this world, entire happiness is the lot of hardly any one,
and it is rare to find intelligence displayed in all the concerns
of life. Baburam Babu had turned his attention solely to amassing
wealth: the questions which had alone exercised his mind had
been how to increase his resources, how to make the whole village
aware of his importance, so that all might salute him properly,
and how to celebrate his religious festivals on a larger scale
than those of his neighbours. He had a son and two daughters:
being himself a descendant of the great Kulin[1], Balaram Thakur,
he had, with a view to the preservation of his caste, married the
two girls at great expense almost immediately after their birth;
but their husbands, being Kulins, had taken to themselves wives
in a number of places, and would not so much as peep into the
house of their father-in-law of Vaidyabati, except on condition
of receiving a handsome remuneration for their trouble.

His son, Matilall, having been indulged in every possible way from
his boyhood, was exceedingly self-willed; at times, he would say to
his father: "Father, I want to catch hold of the moon!" "Father,
I want to eat a cannon-ball!" Now and then he would roar and cry,
so that all the neighbours would say: "We cannot get any sleep
owing to that dreadful boy." Having been so spoilt by his parents,
the boy would not tolerate the bare idea of going to school, and
thus it was that the duty of teaching him devolved upon the house
clerk. On his very first visit to his teacher, Matilall howled
aloud, and scratched and bit him.  His tutor therefore went to
the master of the house and said to him: "Sir, it is quite beyond
my power to instruct your son[2]." The master of the house replied:
"Ah, he is my only darling, my Krishna! use flattery and caresses
if you will, only do teach him."

Matilall was afterwards induced by means of many stratagems to
attend school; and when his teacher was leaning up against the
wall, nodding drowsily, with his legs crossed and a cane in his
hand, reiterating -- "Write boys, write," Matilall would rise
from his seat, make contemptuous gestures, and dance about the
room. The teacher would go on snoring away, ignorant of what his
pupil was doing, and when he opened his eyes again, Matilall would
be seated near his writing materials of dry palm-leaves, drawing
figures of crows and cranes. When later in the afternoon he had
commenced the repetition lesson, Matilall, amid the confused babel
of tongues, would utter cries of _Hori Bol_, and cleverly outwit
his teacher by uttering the last letters only of the words that
were being recited. Occasionally when his teacher was napping,
he would tickle his nose or throw a live piece of charcoal into
his lap, and then dart away like an arrow. When the hour for
refreshment came, he would occasionally get some boy to give the
master lime and water to drink, pretending that it was buttermilk.
The teacher saw that the boy was a thorough good-for-nothing, who
had made up his mind to have nothing more to do with education;
so he concluded that as the boy had profited naught from all the
canings he had had, but only learnt the art of playing tricks
upon his teacher, it was high time to be released from the hands
of such a pupil. The master of the house however would not hear
of it, so he had to have recourse to stratagem. The occupation
of clerk seemed to him to be better than that of teacher: in the
latter occupation his wages were two rupees a month besides food
and clothing, while his gains over and above that would be merely
a present of rice and a pair of cloths or so at the time of the
boy's being first initiated into school-life[3]: on the other hand,
in the occupation of a clerk who superintended all purchases in
the market, there were constant pickings. Revolving such thoughts
in his mind, he went to the master of the house and told him
that Matilall's education was complete so far as his writing was
concerned, and that he had also been thoroughly taught to keep
accounts, so far as estate-management was concerned. Baburam
Babu was overwhelmed with joy on receiving this intelligence,
and all his neighbours in conclave with him said: "Why should it
not be so? Can a lion's whelp ever become a jackal?"

Baburam Babu now thought that he ought to have his son taught the
rudiments of Sanskrit grammar and a smattering of Persian. Having
come to this determination, he called the priest who was in charge
of the family worship, and said: "You sir! have you any knowledge
of grammar?" This Brahman was the densest of blockheads, but he
thought to himself: "I am now getting only rice and plantains,
quite insufficient for me: here I see at length a means of
making a living." So he replied: "Yes, sir, I studied grammar for
five years continuously in the Sanskrit _Tol_ of Ishvar Chandra
Vedanta Vagishwar of Kunnimora.  But I have been very unlucky:
I have gained nothing from all my learning: I am no more than your
humble servant in spite of it all, and my food is but coarse grain
and water." Baburam Babu thereupon appointed him to teach his son
the rudiments of Sanskrit grammar from that day.  The Brahman,
inebriated with hope, speedily got by heart a page or two of the
_Mugdha Bodh_ Grammar, and set about teaching the boy.

Thought Matilall to himself:-- "I have escaped from
the hands of my old teacher; how am I to get rid of this
rice-and-plantain-eating old Brahman? I am my father and mother's
darling, and whether I can write or not, they will say nothing
to me. The only object of learning after all is to gain money,
and my father has boundless wealth: what then is the good of my
learning? It is quite enough for me to be able to sign my name;
besides what will my intimate friends have left to do if I take
to learning? their occupation in ministering to my pleasures will
be gone! The present is the time for enjoyment: has the pain of
learning any attractions for me just now? surely none!" Having come
to this determination, Matilall thus addressed his preceptor:--
"Old Brahman, if you come here any more to plague me with this
grammatical rubbish, I will throw away the family idol, and with
it your last hope of a livelihood; and if you go to my father
and tell him what I have said to you, I will just drop a brick
onto you from the roof: then your wife will soon become a widow,
and have to remove her bracelet from her wrist[4]." The Brahman,
distressed by such remarks about his teaching, thought to himself:
"For six months past I have been labouring at the peril of my life,
and I have not yet been paid anything: the whole occupation is
one that is most repugnant to my feelings, and I am in constant
danger of my life. Let me now only get clear of him and I care not
what happens to me afterwards." As the Brahman was revolving all
this in his mind, Matilall looked in his face and said: "Well,
what are you in such a brown study about? Are you in want of
money? Here, take this! But you must go to my father, and tell
him that I have learned every thing." The Brahman accordingly
went to the boy's father and said to him: "Sir, your Matilall
is no common boy! he has a most extraordinary memory; he will
remember for ever what he may have heard only once." There was an
astrologer at the time with Baburam, who observed to the Babu:
"There is no necessity for you to give me an introduction to
Matilall: he is a boy whose birth was at an auspicious moment;
if only he lives he is bound to become a very great man."

Baburam Babu next set about searching for a Munshi to teach his son
Persian.  After a long search, the grandfather of Aladi the tailor,
Habibala Hoshan by name, was appointed to the post on a salary of
one rupee eight annas a month, together with oil and firewood. The
Munshi Saheb was a man with toothless gums, a grey beard, and a
moustache like tow: his eyes would get inflamed whenever he was
teaching, and when he bade his pupils repeat the letters after him,
his face became hideously distorted in pronouncing the guttural
Persian letters _kaph, gaph, ain, ghain._ The benefit that Matilall
derived from learning Persian was pretty much what might have been
expected from his possessing no taste whatever for the pursuit of
knowledge, and having such a preceptor. As the Munshi Saheb was
one day stooping over his book, repeating the maxims of Masnavi
in a sing-song manner and keeping time with his hand, Matilall
seized the opportunity to drop a lighted match from behind onto
his beard. The poor Munshi's beard at once flared up, crackling as
it blazed, upon which Matilall remarked: "How now, Mussulman? you
will not teach me any more after this, I expect." The Munshi Saheb
left speedily, shaking his head and exclaiming "_Tauba! Tauba!_"
Then as the pain of the burn intensified, he shrieked: "Never,
never have I seen so mad and wicked a boy as this: of a surety
field labour in my own country were better than such slavery:
it is cruel work coming to a place like this! _Tauba! Tauba!_"


CHAPTER II.  MATILALL'S ENGLISH EDUCATION.

WHEN Baburam heard of the evil plight of the Munshi Saheb,
the only remark he made was: "My boy, Matilall, is not a boy
like that. What can you expect from such a low fellow as that
Mussulman?" He then considered that as Persian was going out of
fashion, it might be a good thing for the boy to learn English.
Just as a madman has occasional glimmerings of sense, so even a
man lacking in intelligence has occasional happy inspirations. When
he had come to this decision, it occurred to Baburam Babu that he
was a very indifferent English scholar himself: he only knew one
or two English words: his neighbours too, he reflected, knew about
as much of it as he himself did: he must consult with some man of
learning and experience. As he went over in his mind the list of
his kinsmen and relatives, it struck him that Beni Babu, of Bally,
was a very competent person. Business habits generate promptness
of action, and he proceeded without delay to the Vaidyabati Ghât,
taking with him a servant and a messenger.

In the first two months of the rainy season, the months _Ashar_
and _Shravan_, most of the boatmen occupy themselves in catching
_hilsa_ fish with circular nets, and at midday, are generally
busy taking their meals. Thus it came about that there was not
a boat of any description at the Vaidyabati Ghât. Baburam Babu,
full-whiskered, the sacred mark on his nose, dressed in fine
lawn with coloured borders, with smart shoes from Phulapukur,
a front like the front of Ganesh, a delicate muslin shawl neatly
folded over his shoulders, and his cheeks swollen with _pán_,
was walking impatiently up and down, calling out to his servant:
"Ho, there, Hari! I must get to Bally quick; you must hire a
passing boat for me for four pice." Rich men's servants are often
very disrespectful, and Hari made answer: "Sir, that is just like
you! I had only just sat down to take my food and I have now had
to throw it away and leave it in order to attend to your repeated
calls. If there had been any boat going down-stream, it might
have been hired for a small sum, but it is flood-tide just now,
and the boatmen will have to work hard rowing and steering. You
might get across for three or four pice if you would arrange to
go with others. I cannot possibly hire a passing boat for you
for four pice; you might as well ask me to make barley-meal cakes
without water." Baburam Babu scowled and said: "You are a very
insolent fellow; if you speak like that to me again, you get a
sound smacking." Now the lower orders of Bengalees tremble even
if they make a slip, so Hari endured the rebuke, and quaking all
over said to his master: "Sir, how can I possibly find a boat? I
had no intention of being insolent to you."

While he was still speaking, a green boat that was being towed
up the river on its return journey, approached the _ghât_ where
they were. After a long argument with the steersman of the boat a
bargain was struck, and he agreed to take them across for eight
annas. Baburam then got into the boat with his servant and his
messenger. When they had got some way on their journey, he began
looking about him in every direction, and said to his servant:
"Hari, this is a fine boat we have got! Hi, steersman! whose house
is that over there?  Ho! surely that is a sugar factory. Ha! Now
prepare me a pipe of tobacco, and strike me a light." Then he
pulled away at the gurgling _hooka_, now and again raising himself
to look at the porpoises tumbling in the water, and hummed a song
of the loves of Krishna[5]:--

"When late to Brindabun, O Krishna! I came,
"Your home there, alas! I found only a name."

As it was the ebb, the boat dropped quickly down-stream and the
boatmen had no occasion to exert themselves: one sat on the edge
of the boat; another, bearded like an old billy-goat, keeping his
look-out on the top of the cabin, sang in the Chittagong dialect
the popular song which goes:--

"E'en the earring of gold shall loosen its hold,
"By the lute-string's languishing strain cajoled."

The sun had not yet set when the boat reached its moorings at
the Deonagaji Ghât. Four boatmen, panting and puffing with their
efforts, lifted Baburam Babu, a mass of solid flesh, out of the
boat, and set him safe on land.

Beni Babu received his relative very courteously and begged him
to be seated, while his house servant, Ram, at once brought some
tobacco he had prepared for him. Baburam Babu was very fond of his
pipe: after a few pulls he remarked: "How is it that this _hooka_
is hissing?" A servant who is in constant attendance upon a man
of intelligence soon becomes intelligent himself: Ram, divining
what was wrong, put a clearing-rod in the _hooka_, changed the
water, supplied it with some fresh tobacco, sweet and compact,
and brought it back with a larger mouthpiece. Finding the _hooka_
placed by him, Baburam Babu took entire possession, as though
he had taken a permanent lease of it, and as he puffed away,
emitting clouds of smoke, chattered with Beni Babu.

_Beni_.-- Would you not like to get up now, sir, and take some
light refreshment?

_Baburam_.-- It is already rather late: I don't think I will
just now. I am quite at home, thank you; I would have called
for it if I had wanted it. But please just listen to what I have
to say. My son Matilall has shown that he possesses remarkable
genius! You would be quite delighted to see the boy. I am anxious
to have him taught English; do you think you can get me a master
to teach him for some mere trifle?

_Beni_.-- There are plenty of masters to be had, and a man of
moderate ability might be got for from twenty to twenty-five
rupees a month.

_Baburam_.-- What, so much as that? Twenty-five rupees! Oh my
dear friend, these religious ceremonies you know are a constant
source of expense in my establishment: I have about a hundred
people to feed every day; and besides all this, I shall very soon
have my son's marriage to arrange for. Why did I go to the expense
of hiring a boat to come here and see you, only to be asked for
as much as that after all?

With this, he put his hands on Beni Babu's shoulders, and laughed
immoderately.

_Beni_.-- Then put him at some school in Calcutta: the boy might
live with some relative, and his education need not in that case
cost more than three or four rupees a month.

_Baburam_.-- What, as much as that? Couldn't one manage to get
the prices down with a little haggling? And is a school education
any better than a home one?

_Beni_.-- Home education is a very excellent thing if you
can secure a really first-rate teacher, but such a teacher is
not to be had on a small salary.  School education has its good
points and also its bad points. A healthy spirit of emulation of
course springs up amongst a number of boys who are being educated
together; but at the same time some of the boys will always be in
danger of being corrupted by bad company. Besides when twenty-five
or thirty boys are reading in one class, there is a good deal of
confusion, and equal attention cannot be paid every day to all
the boys alike: consequently all do not make similar progress.

_Baburam_.-- Anyhow I will send Matilall to you; and when you
have looked about you, do try and make some cheap arrangement for
me. None of the English gentlemen for whom I once did business
are here now: if they had been, I might have got some of them
to secure him schooling which would have cost me nothing: it
would only have needed a little importunity. However it will be
quite enough if my son obtains just a smattering of learning:
if he becomes a scholar, he may not remain in the religion of his
fathers. So kindly make it your business to see that he becomes
a man: I lay the whole responsibility upon you, my friend.

_Beni_.-- If a boy is to grow into a man, every attention
is necessary both when he is at home and when he is away from
home: the father must see everything with his own eyes and enter
thoroughly into all the boy's occupations. There is a good deal
of business that may be done through commission agencies, but
the education of a boy is not one of them.

_Baburam_.-- That is all very true: regard Matilall then as your
son. I shall now get some leisure for my ablutions in the Ganges,
for reading the Puranas, and for looking after my concerns; for at
present I have no time even for these: besides, all the English
training that I possess is training of the old school. Matilall
is yours, my dear friend, he is yours! I will rid myself of all
anxiety by sending him to you. Adopt any course you think fit,
but my dear friend, do take care that the expense is not heavy:
you know my position as a man with a number of young children to
look after: you can understand that thoroughly, can you not?

After this conversation with Beni Babu, Baburam Babu returned to
his home at Vaidyabati.


CHAPTER III.  MATILALL AT SCHOOL.

MEN engaged in business all the week spend very lazy Sundays. They
avail themselves of any excuse to postpone their bath and their
meals: after they have bathed and eaten, some of them play chess
and some cards: some occupy themselves in fishing, some play on
the _tomtom_ and some on the _sitar_: some lie down and sleep,
some go for a walk, and others read; but very little attention
is paid to the improvement of the mind by study or conversation
of an improving character. A good deal of idle talk is indulged
in: perhaps somebody's real or fancied disregard of caste-rules
may be discussed, and how Shambhu ate three jack-fruit at a
sitting. Such is the style of conversation with which the time
will be wiled away. Beni Babu's intelligence was of a different
order. Most people in this country have a general notion that
when school-days are over, education itself is complete; but
this is a great error.  However much may be the attention paid
to the acquisition of knowledge from birth to death, the further
shore of learning is never reached. Knowledge can only increase
in proportion to the attention that is paid to learning: Beni
Babu understood this well and acted accordingly.

He had risen as usual one morning, and having first looked into
his household affairs, had taken up a book in order to prosecute
his studies, when suddenly a boy of fourteen, with a charm round
his neck, a ring in his ear, a bracelet on his wrist and an armlet
on his arm, appeared before him and saluted him.  Beni Baba was
engrossed in his book, but was roused by the sound of approaching
footsteps, and guessing who the boy was, said to him: "Come here,
Matilall, come here! is all well at home?" "All is well," replied
the boy.  Beni Babu bade Matilall stay with him for the night, and
promised the next morning to take him to Calcutta and put him to
school.  Some little time after this, Matilall, having finished his
meal, perceived that time was likely to hang heavy on his hands,
as it would not be dark for a long time yet.  Being naturally of
a very restless disposition, it was always a hard thing for him to
sit long in one place; so he rose very quietly from his seat, and
proceeded to explore the house. First he tried to work the mill for
husking rice with his feet; then he tramped about on the terraced
roof of the house; then commenced throwing bricks and tiles at
the passers by, running away when he had done so as hard as he
could. Thus he made the circuit of Bally, tramping noisily about,
stealing fruit out of people's gardens and plucking the flowers,
or else jumping about on the top of the village huts and breaking
the water-jars. The people, annoyed by such conduct as this, asked
each other: "Who is this boy?  Surely our village will be ruined
as Lanka was by Hanuman the house-burner."  Some of them, when
they heard the name of the boy's father, remarked: "Ah, he is the
son of Baburam Babu! what then can you expect? Is it not written:
'Men's virtues are reflected in a son, in renown, and in water?'"

As the evening drew on the village resounded with the cries of
jackals and the humming of innumerable insects.  As many men of
position reside in Bally, and the _shalgram_[6] is to be found in
the houses of most of them, there was no lack of the sound of
handbells and conch shells. Beni Babu had just risen from his
reading and was stretching his limbs preparatory to a smoke, when
a great commotion suddenly arose. "Sir, the son of the zemindar of
Vaidyabati has been throwing bricks at us!" "Sir, he has thrown
away my basket!" "He has been pushing me about!" "He has grossly
insulted me!" "He has broken my pot of _ghee_!" Beni Babu, being
very tender-hearted, gave each of the men a present, and dismissed
them; then he fell to musing on the kind of training this boy must
have been given to behave in such a fashion. "A fine bringing up
the lad must have had," he said to himself, "in the short space of
three hours he has thrown the whole village into a state of panic:
it will be a great relief when he goes." Presently some of the
oldest and most respected of the inhabitants of the place came to
him and said: "Beni Babu, who is this boy? We were taking our usual
nap after our midday meal, when we were aroused by this clamour:
it is most unpleasant to have our rest broken in upon in this
way." Beni Babu replied: "Please say no more; I have had a very
heavy burden imposed upon me: one of my relatives, a zemindar, a
man rather lacking in common sense if possessed of great wealth,
has sent his son to me to put to school for him; and meanwhile
I am being worn to a mere shadow with the annoyance. If I had
to keep a boy like this with me for three days, my house would
become a ruin for doves to come and roost in."

As this conversation was proceeding, several boys approached,
Matilall in their rear, all singing at the top of their voices
the refrain --

"To Shambhu's son all honour pay,
"Shambhu, the lord of night and day."

"Ah!" said Beni Babu, "here he comes: keep quiet, perhaps
he may take it into his head to beat us: I shall not breathe
freely till I have got rid of the monkey." Seeing Beni Babu,
Matilall seemed somewhat ashamed of himself, and looked a little
disconcerted: to his question however as to where he had been,
he replied that he had merely been trying to form some idea of
the size of the place. When they had entered the house, Matilall
ordered Ram the servant to bring him some tobacco, but it was no
good giving him the ordinary make; he smoked pipe after pipe of
the very strongest, and Ram could not supply him fast enough. It
was "Ram bring this!" "Ram, I do not want that!" in fact, Ram
could not attend to any other work, but had to be constantly in
attendance upon Matilall, keeping him supplied with tobacco. Beni
Babu was astounded at such behaviour, and kept turning his head
and glancing curiously in his direction.  When the time for the
evening meal came, Beni Babu took Matilall with him into the zenana
side of the house and regaled him with all sorts of luxuries;
then having taken the usual betel by way of a digestive, retired
to rest. Matilall also retired to his sleeping chamber and got
into bed, when he had chewed _pán_ and smoked enough. For some
time he tossed restlessly about, now on this side, now on that;
and every now and then he would get up and walk about, singing
snatches of the love songs of Nil Thakur, or the old story of
the separation of Radha and Krishna as told by Ram Basu. At the
noise he made, sleep fled from all in the house.

Ram and Pelaram, the gardener, an inhabitant of Kashijora, had
been asleep in the common thatched hall used for the family
worship. After the work of the day, sleep is a great relief,
and to have it rudely disturbed is naturally a source of much
irritation. Both Ram and Pelaram were roused from their rest by the
noise of the singing. Pelaram exclaimed: "Ah, Ram, my father! I
can get no sleep while this bull is bellowing in this way: I
might just as well get up and sow some seeds in the garden." Ram,
turning himself round, replied: "Ah, it is midnight! why get up
now? The master has done a fine thing in bringing this brat here[7]:
it means ruin to us all. The boy is a terrible nuisance: we shall
not breathe again till he goes."

Early next morning, Beni Babu took Matilall away with him to the
house of Becharam Banerjea of Bow Bazar. This gentleman was the son
of Kenaram Babu, and a man of very old family: he was a childlike,
simple-minded man, hair-lipped from his birth, and highly excitable
on the smallest provocation.  Seeing Beni Babu, he called to him in
his peculiar nasal tone: "Come, tell me what is in your mind now?"

_Beni_.-- Well, seeing that Baburam Babu has no relative like
yourself in Calcutta, I have come to request of you that his boy
Matilall may live in your house while he is attending school,
going to Vaidyabati for his Saturday holiday.

_Becharam_.-- Well, there can be no possible objection to that. He
is perfectly welcome to come and stay in my house: this is as much
his home as his father's house is.  I have no children of my own,
and only two nephews; let Matilall then stay with me as long as
he pleases.

On hearing Becharam Babu's nasal twang, Matilall burst out
laughing. Beni Babu gave a sigh of disgust, thinking to himself
that there would be little peace here so long as such a boy as
this was about. Becharam noted the jeering laugh, and observed
to Beni Babu, "Ah! friend Beni, the youngster appears somewhat
ill-mannered and boorish. I imagine that he must have been
constantly indulged from infancy."

Beni Babu was a very shrewd man. His former history was known to
all. He too had led a wild life, but had remedied everything by
his own good qualities. He now told himself that if he were to
express his real opinion of Matilall, the boy might be ruined:
there would be an end to his remaining in Calcutta and to his
school education, and it was his own earnest wish that the boy
should grow to man's estate with some sort of training at least. So
after exchanging ideas on many other topics, he took his leave
of Becharam Babu and went with Matilall to the school of one
Mr. Sherborn. Owing to the establishment of the Hindu College,
this gentleman's school had somewhat diminished in numbers: it
required all his attention, and constant toil day and night,
to keep it going.  He himself was a stout man with heavy and
bushy eyebrows; was never seen without _pán_ in his mouth and
a cane in his hand; and would vary his walks up and down his
classes by occasionally sitting down and pulling at a _hooka_.
Beni Babu having placed Matilall at his school, returned to Bally.


CHAPTER IV.  MATILALL IN THE POLICE COURT.

WHEN the British merchants first came to Calcutta, the Setts and
Baisakhs were the great traders, but none of the people of the
city knew English: all business communications with the foreigners
had to be carried on by means of signs. Man will always find a
way out of a difficulty if need be, and by means of these signs
a few English words get to be known. After the establishment of
the Supreme Court, increased attention was paid to English: this
was chiefly due to the influence of the law courts. By that time
Ram Ram Mistori and Ananda Ram Dass, who were representative men
in Calcutta, had learned many English expressions: Ram Narayan
Mistori, a pupil of Ram Ram Mistori, was engaged as clerk to
an attorney and used to write out petitions for a great many
people; he also kept a school, his pupils paying from fourteen
to sixteen rupees a month. Following his example, others, as
for instance Ram Lochan Napit and Krisha Mohun Basu, adopted
the profession of schoolmaster: their pupils used to read some
English book and learn the meaning of words by heart. At marriage
ceremonies and festivals, everybody would contemplate with awe
and astonishment, and loudly applaud, any boy who could utter a
few English expressions.  Following the example set by others,
Mr. Sherborn had opened his school at a somewhat late period,
and the children of people belonging to the upper grades of
society were being educated at his establishment.

Now boys with a real desire to learn may pick up something or
other, by dint of their own exertions, at any school they may
be attending. All schools have their good and bad points, and
there are a large number of lads so peculiarly constituted that
they keep wandering about from school to school, under pretence
of being dissatisfied with each one they go to, and think,
by passing their time in this unsettled way, to deceive their
parents into the belief that they are learning something. So
Matilall, after attending Mr. Sherborn's school for a few days,
had himself entered anew at the school of a Mr. Charles.

The chief end in view in all education is the development of
a good disposition and a high character, the growth of a right
understanding, and the attainment of a thorough mastery of any
work that may have to be attended to in the practical business of
life. If the education of children is conducted on these lines,
they may become in every way respectable members of society,
competent to understand and duly execute all their business both at
home and abroad. But to ensure that such a training shall be given,
both parents and teachers have need to exert themselves. The young
will naturally follow in the footsteps of their elders. Goodness
in the parents is a necessary condition of the growth of goodness
in the children. If a drunken father forbids his child liquor,
why should the child listen to him? If a father, himself addicted
to immorality, attempts to instruct a son in morals, he will at
once recall the mousing cat that professed asceticism[8], and will
only mock at his hypocrisy. The son whose father lives a virtuous
life has no great need of advice and counsel: mere observation
of his father will generate a good disposition. The mother too
must keep her attention constantly fixed on her child: there is
nothing so potent in its humanising effect on a child's mind as
a mother's sweet conversation, kindness and caresses. A child's
good behaviour is assured when he distinctly realises that if he
does certain things, his mother will not take him into her lap and
caress him. Again, it is the teacher's duty to guard against making
a mere parrot of his pupil, when he is teaching him by book. If a
boy has to get all he reads by heart, his faculty of memory may be
strengthened, it is true; but if his intelligence is not promoted,
and he gets no practical knowledge, then his education is all
a sham. Whether the pupil be old or young, the matter should be
explained to him in such a way that his mind may grasp what he
is learning. By a good system of education, and judicious tact
in teaching, an intelligent comprehension of a subject may be
effected such as no amount of mere chiding will bring about.

Matilall had learned nothing of morality or good conduct in
his Vaidyabati home, and now his residence in Bow Bazar proved
a curse rather than a blessing.  Becharam Babu had two nephews,
whose names were Haladhar and Gadadhar. These boys had never known
what it was to have a father; and though they occasionally went
to school out of fear of their mother and uncle, it was more of a
sham than anything else. They mostly wandered at their pleasure,
unchecked, about the streets, the river _ghâts_, the terraced
roofs of houses and the open common; and they utterly refused to
listen to anybody who tried to restrain them. When their mother
remonstrated, they would just retort: "If you do this we will
both of us run away;" so they were left to do pretty much as they
pleased. They found Matilall one of their own sort, and within
a very short time a close intimacy sprang up between them; they
became quite inseparable; would sit together, eat together, and
sleep together; would put their hands on each other's shoulders
and go about both in doors and out of doors hand in hand, or with
their arms round each other's necks. Whenever Becharam's wife saw
them, she would say: "They are three brothers, sons of one mother."

Neither children nor youths nor old men can remain for any length
of time passive or engaged in one kind of occupation: they must
have some way of dividing the twenty-four hours of the day and
night between a variety of occupations. In the case of children,
special arrangements will have to be made to ensure their having
a combination of amusement with instruction. Neither continuous
play nor continuous work is a good thing. The chief object of
all recreation is to enable a man to pay greater attention to his
labour afterwards, his body refreshed by relaxation. The mind only
becomes enfeebled by unbroken exertion, and anything learnt in that
condition simply floats about on the surface without sinking into
it. But in all games there is this to be considered, that those
only are beneficial in which there is a certain amount of bodily
exertion; no benefit is to be derived from cards or dice or any
pastimes of that kind: the only effect of such amusements is to
increase the natural tendency to idleness, which is the source of
such a variety of evils.  Just as there is no good to be derived
from unceasing work, so by continuous play the intelligence is
apt to get blunted, for thereby the body only is strengthened,
the mind is not disciplined at all; and as the latter must be
engaged in something or other, is it to be wondered at that
in such a condition it should adopt an evil rather than a good
course? It is thus that many boys come to grief.

Matilall and his companions Haladhar and Gadadhar roamed about
everywhere like so many Brahmini bulls, doing just as they pleased
and paying no attention to any one. They were constantly amusing
themselves either with cards and dice or else with kites and
pigeon-flying. They could find no time either for regular meals
or for sleep. If a servant came to call them into the house, they
would only abuse him, and refuse to go in. If ever the maid came to
tell them that her mistress could not retire to rest until they had
had their supper, they would abuse her in a disgraceful manner. The
maid-servant would sometimes retort: "What courteous language you
have learned!" All the most worthless boys of the neighbourhood
gradually collected together and formed a band. Noise and confusion
reigned supreme in the house all day and night, and people in the
reception-room could not hear each other's voices: the only sounds
were those of uproarious merriment. So much tobacco and _ganja_
was consumed that the whole place was darkened with smoke: no one
dared pass by that way when this company was assembled, and there
was not a man who would venture to forbid such conduct. Becharam
Babu indeed was disgusted when the smell of the tobacco reached
him, as it occasionally did; but he would only give vent to his
favourite exclamation of disgust and impatience.

Most terrible of all evils are the evils that spring from
association with others. Even where there is unremitting attention
on the part of parents and teachers, evil company may bring
ruin; but where no such effort is made, the extent of corruption
that association with others brings about cannot be estimated
in language. Matilall's character, far from improving, was, by
the aid of his present associates, deteriorating day by day. He
might attend school for one or two days in the week, but would
merely remain seated there like a.  dummy, treating the whole
thing as a supreme bore. He was continually joking with the other
boys or drawing on his slate; would scarce attend for five minutes
together to his lessons; and could think of nothing but the fine
time he would have with his companions out of school. There are
teachers possessed of sufficient skill and tact to draw to the
acquisition of knowledge the mind of even such a boy as Matilall:
being acquainted with various methods of imparting instruction,
they adopt that which is likely to prove most efficacious in each
particular case. Now the teaching in Mr. Charles school was as
indifferent as the teaching in Government schools often is at the
present day. Equal attention was not paid to all the classes and
all the boys, and no pains were taken to ascertain whether they
thoroughly understood the easy books they had to read before they
proceeded to more difficult ones. A good many people are firmly
convinced that a school derives its importance from the number
of books prescribed, and the amount read. It was considered quite
sufficient for the boys to repeat their lessons by heart: it was
not supposed to be necessary to know whether they understood or
not; and it was never taken into consideration at all whether
the education they were receiving was one that would fit them
for the practical business of afterlife. Unless influences are
very strong in their favour, boys attending such schools have not
much chance of receiving any education at all. Take into account
Matilall's father, the companions he had collected about him,
the place he was living in, the school he was attending, and some
idea may be formed of the extent of his intellectual training.

Teachers vary as much as schools do. One man will take immense
pains, while another will simply trifle away his times, fidgetting
about and pulling his moustache. Mr. Charles' factotum was
Bakreswar Babu, of Batalata; and he could do nothing without
him. This man made it his practice to visit his pupils' rich
parents, and say to them all alike: "Ah sir, I always pay special
attention to your boy! he is the true son of his father: he is no
ordinary boy, that: he is a perfect model of a boy." Bakreswar Babu
had charge of the education of the higher classes in the school,
but it was exceedingly doubtful whether he himself understood
what he taught. If this had got generally known he would have been
disgraced for life, so he kept very quiet on the subject.  His sole
work was to make the boys read; and if any boy asked him for the
meaning of a word, he would bid him look in the dictionary. He
was bound of course to make a few corrections here and there in
the translation exercises the boys did for him; for if he were
to pass them all as correct, where would be his occupation as a
school-master? So he would make corrections, even when there was
no necessity for doing so, and when by doing so he actually made
mistakes which did not exist before: then if the boys asked him
what he was about, he would tell them they were very insolent
and had no business to contradict him. He generally paid most
attention to rich men's sons, and would question them at length
about the rents and value of their property. In a very short
time, Matilall became a great favourite with Bakreswar Babu:
the boy would bring him presents of flowers or fruit or books,
or handkerchiefs.  Bakreswar Babu's idea was that he ought not
to let boys like Matilall slip out of his hands, for when they
reached man's estate, they might become as a "field of _beguns_"[9]
to him, -- a perpetual source of profit. What benefit too, he
thought, would he derive in the next world from looking after
the affairs of this school!

The time of the great autumn festival, the Durga Pujah, had now
arrived. In the bazaars and everywhere there was a great stir,
and the general bustle and confusion gave additional zest to
Matilall's passion for amusement. He suffered agonies so long
as he had to remain in school: his attention was perpetually
distracted; at one moment sitting at his desk, at the next playing
on it; never still for a single moment. One Saturday he had been
attending school as usual, and having got a half-holiday out
of Bakreswar Babu, had left for home.  On his way he purchased
some betel and _pán_, and was proceeding merrily along, his whole
attention fixed on the pigeon and kite shops that lined the road,
and taking no note of the passers-by, when suddenly a sergeant
of police and some constables came up and caught him by the arm,
the sergeant telling him that he held a warrant for his arrest,
and that he must go quietly along with him.  Matilall did his best
to get his arm free, but the sergeant was a powerful man and kept
a firm grasp as he dragged him along. Matilall next threw himself
on the ground and, bruised all over and covered with dust as he
was, made repeated efforts to escape: the sergeant thereupon hit
him with his fist several times.  At last, as he lay overpowered
on the ground, the thought of his father caused the boy to burst
into tears, and there rose forcibly in his mind the question:
"Why have I acted as I have done? Association with others has been
my ruin."  A crowd now began to collect in the road, and people
asked each other what was the matter. Some old women discussing
the affair inquired: "Whose child is this that they are beating
so? -- the child with the moon-face? ah, it makes one's heart
bleed to hear him cry!" The sun had not set when Matilall was
brought to the police-station: there he found Haladhar, Gadadhar,
Ramgovinda and Dolgovinda, with other boys from his neighbourhood,
all standing aside, looking extremely woe-begone. Mr. Blaquiere
was police magistrate at that time, and it would have been his
business to examine the prisoners; but he had gone home, so they
had to remain for the night in the lock-up.


CHAPTER V.  BABURAM IN CALCUTTA.

SINGING snatches of a popular love-song:--

"For my lost love's sake I am dying:
"And my heart is faint with sighing."

and varying his song with whistling, Meeah Jan, a cartman,
was urging his bullocks along the road, abusing them roundly
for their slowness, twisting their tails, and whacking them
with his whip. A few clouds were overhead, and a little rain was
falling. The bullocks as they went lumbering along, succeeded in
overtaking the hired gharry in which Premnarayan Mozoomdar was
travelling.  It was swaying from side to side in the wind: the
two horses were wretched specimens of their kind, and must surely
have belonged to the far-famed race of the _Pakshiraj_, king of
birds. They were doing their best to get along, poor beasts, but
notwithstanding the blows that rained down on their backs from the
driver's whip, their pace did not mend very considerably. Before
starting on his journey, Premnarayan had eaten a very hearty meal,
and at each jolt of the gharry his heart was in his mouth. His
disgust however increased as the bullock cart drew ahead of his
vehicle. Premnarayan need not be blamed for this. Every man has
some self-respect which he does not care to lose. The majority
have a high opinion of themselves, and while some lose their
tempers if there is the slightest failing in the respect they
think due to them, others feel humiliated and depressed.

Premnarayan, in his passion, expressed his thoughts thus to
himself:-- "Ah! what a hateful thing is service. The servant
is regarded as no better than a dog! he must run to execute any
order that is given. How long has my soul been vexed by the rude
behaviour of Haladhar, Gadadhar, and the other boys! They would
never let me eat or sleep in peace: they have even composed songs
in derision of me: their jests have been as irritating to me as
ant-bites; they have signalled to other boys in the street to annoy
me: they have gone so far as to clap their hands at me behind my
back. Can any one submit tamely to such treatment as this? It is
enough to drive a sane man out of his senses. I must have a good
stock of courage not to have run away from Calcutta long ago:
it is due to my good genius only that so far I have not lost my
employment. At last the scoundrels have met with their desserts:
may they now rot in jail, never to get out again! Yet after all
these are idle words; is not my journey being made with the express
object of effecting their release? has not this duty been imposed
upon me by my employer? Alas, I have no voice in the matter!
if men are not to starve, they must do and bear all this."

Baburam Babu of Vaidyabati was seated in all a Babu's state; his
servant, Hari, was rubbing his master's feet. Seated on one side
of him the pandits were discussing some trivial points relating
to certain observances enjoined by the _Shástras_, such as:--
"Pumpkins may be eaten to-day, _beguns_ should not be eaten
to-morrow; to take milk with salt is quite as bad as eating the
flesh of cows." On the other side of him, some friends were
engaged in a game of chess: one of them was in deep thought,
his head supported on his hand: evidently his game was up, he
was checkmated. Some musicians in the room were mingling their
harmonies, their instruments twanging noisily. Near him were his
_mohurrirs_ writing up their ledgers, and before him stood sundry
creditors, tenants of his, and tradesmen from the bazaar, some
of whose accounts were passed, and others refused. People kept
thronging into the reception-room.  Certain of his tradespeople
were explaining how they had been supplying him for years with
one-thing and another, and now were in great distress, having
hitherto received nothing by way of payment; how, moreover, from
their constant journeyings to and fro, their business was being
utterly neglected and ruined. Retail shopkeepers too, such as
oilmen, timber-merchants and sweetmeat-sellers, were complaining
bitterly that they were ruined, and that their lives were not worth
a pin's head: if he continued to treat them as he was doing, they
could not possibly live: they had worn out the muscles of their
legs in their constant journeyings to and fro to get payment:
their shops were all shut, their wives and children starving. The
whole time of the Babu's _dewan_ was taken up in answering these
people. "Go away for the present," he was saying, "you will
receive payment all right; why do you jabber so much?" Did any
of them venture to remonstrate, Baburam Babu would scowl, abuse
him roundly, and have him forcibly ejected from the room.

A great many of the wealthy Babus of Bengal take the goods of
the simple country-folk on credit: it would give them an attack
of fever to have to pay ready-money for anything. They have
the cash in their chests, but if they were not to keep putting
their creditors off, how could they keep their reception-rooms
crowded? Whether a poor tradesman lives or dies is no concern
of theirs; only let them play the magnifico, and their fathers'
and grandfathers' names be kept before the public! Many there
are who thus make a false show of being rich; they present a
splendid figure before the outside world, while within they are
but men of straw after all.

"Out of doors you flaunt it bravely, wealth is in your very air:
"In the house the rats are squealing, and the cupboard's mostly bare."

It would be death to them to be obliged to regulate their
expenditure by their income, for then they could not be the
owners of gardens or live the luxurious life of the rich Babu. By
keeping up a fine exterior they hope to throw dust in the eyes of
their tradesmen. When they take money or goods from others, they
practically borrow twice over; for when pressure is brought to bear
upon them to make them pay, they borrow from one man only to pay
what they owe someone else; and when at last a summons is issued
against them, they register their property under another person's
name, and are off somewhere out of the way for the time being.

Baburam Babu was devoted to his money and very close-fisted[10]: it
was always a great grief to him to be obliged to take cash out
of his chest. He was engaged in wrangling with his tradespeople
when Premnarayan arrived, and whispered in his ear the news from
Calcutta. Baburam was thunderstruck for a time. When shortly
after he recovered himself, he had Mokajan Meeah summoned to his
presence. Now Mokajan was skilled in all matters of law. Zemindars,
indigo planters, and others were continually going to him for
advice; for a man like this, gifted with such ability for making
up cases, for suborning witnesses, for getting police and other
officers of the court under his thumb, for disposing secretly of
stolen property, for collecting witnesses in cases of disputes,
and generally for making right appear wrong and wrong right, was
not to be found every day. Out of compliment to him, people all
called him _Thakchacha_: this was a great gratification to him,
and his thoughts often shaped themselves thus: "Ah, my birth
must have taken place at an auspicious moment! my observances
of the seasons of _Ramjan_ and _Eed_ have answered well; and
if I am only properly attentive to my patron saint, I fancy my
importance will increase still further." Though engaged in his
ablutions at the time that Baburam Babu's peremptory summons
reached him, he came away at one and listened, in private, to
all Baburam had to say. After a few minutes' reflection, he said:
"Why be alarmed, Babu? How many hundred cases of a similar kind
have I disposed of! Is there any great difficulty in the way this
time? I have some very clever fellows in my employ; I have only
to take them with me, and will win the case on their testimony:
you need be under no apprehension. I am going away just now,
but I will return the first thing in the morning."

Baburam, though somewhat encouraged by these words, was still not
at all comfortable in his mind. He was much attached to his wife,
and everything she said was always, in his view, shrewdly to the
point: were she to say to him.  "This is not water, it is milk,"
with the evidence of his own eyes against him, he would reply:
"Ah, you are quite right! this is not water, it is milk. If
the mistress of the house says so, it must be so." Most men,
whatever the affection they have for their wives are at least
able to exercise some discretion as to the matters in which those
ladies are to be consulted and to what extent they should be
listened to. Good men love their wives with heartfelt affection;
but if they are to accept everything their wives say they may
just as well dress in _saris_, and sit at home. Now Baburam Babu
was entirely under his wife's thumb: if she bade him get up,
he would get up; if she bade him sit down, he would sit down.

Some months before this, she had presented her husband with a son,
and she was busy nursing the infant on her lap, her two daughters
seated by her. Their conversation was running on household affairs
and other matters, when suddenly the master of the house came
into the room and sitting down with a very sad countenance, said:
"My dear wife, I am most unlucky! The one idea of my life has
been to hand over the charge of all my property to Matilall on
his reaching man's estate, and to go and live with you at
Benares[11]; but all my hopes have, I fear, been dashed to the
ground."

_The Mistress of the House_. -- my dear husband, what is the
matter? Quick, tell me! my breast is heaving with emotion. Is
all well with my darling Matilall?

_The Master_. -- yes, so far as his health goes he is well enough,
but I have just received news that the police have apprehended
him and put him in jail.

_The Mistress_. -- What was that you said? They have dragged away
Matilall to prison? And why, O why, my husband, have they
imprisoned him? Alas, alas! The poor boy must be a mass of bruises!
I expect, too, he has had nothing to eat and not been able to get
any sleep. O my husband, what is to be done? Do bring my darling
Matilall back to me again!

With this, the mistress of the house began to weep: her two
daughters wiped away the tears from her eyes, and tried their best
to console their mother. The infant too seeing its mother crying,
began to howl lustily.

In the course of his enquiries, made under pretence of conversation,
her husband got to know that Matilall had been in the habit, under
one pretext or another, of getting money out of her. She had not
mentioned the matter to her husband for fear of his displeasure: the
boy had been unfortunate, and she could not tell what might have
happened if he had got angry. Wives ought to tell all that concerns
their children to their husbands, for a disease that is concealed
from the surgeon can never be cured. After a long consultation with
his wife, the master sent off a letter by night, to arrange for some
of his relatives to meet him in Calcutta at his lodgings.

A night of happiness passes away in the twinkling of an eye,
but how slowly drag the hours when the mind is sunk in an abyss
of painful thought! It may be close to dawn, and the day may be
every moment drawing nearer, but yet it seems to tarry. Ways and
means occupied the whole of Baburam Babu's thoughts throughout
the night: he could no longer remain quietly in the house, and
long before the morning came was in a boat with Thakchacha and
his companions. As the tide was running strong, the boat soon
reached the Bagbazaar Ghât.

Night had nearly come to an end: oil-dealers were busy putting
their mills in order, ready to work: cartmen were leading their
bullocks off to their day's toil: the washermen's donkeys were
labouring with their loads upon the road: men were hurrying
along at a swing-trot with loads of fish and vegetables.
The pandits of the place were all off with their sacred vessels
to the river for their morning bathe; the women were collecting
at the different _ghâts_ and exchanging confidences with each
other. "I am suffering agonies from my sister-in-law's cruelty,"
said one. "Ah, my spiteful mother-in-law!" exclaimed another. "Oh,
my friends!" cried another, "I have no wish to live any longer,
my daughter-in-law tyrannises over me so, and my son says
nothing to her; in fact, she has made my son like a sheep with
her charms." "Alas!" said another, "I have such a wretch of a
sister-in-law! she tyrannises over me day and night." Another
lamented, "My darling child is now ten years old; my life is so
uncertain, it is high time for me to think of getting him married."

There had been rain in the night, and patches of cloud were still
to be seen in the sky; the roads and the steps of the _ghâts_
were all slippery in consequence. Baburam Babu puffed away at
his _hooka_ and looked out for a hired gharry or a _palki_, but
he would not agree to the fare demanded: it was a great deal too
much to his mind. When the boys who had collected in the road
saw how Baburam Babu was chaffering, some of them said to him:
"Had you not better, sir, be carried in a coolie's basket? The
charge for that will be only two pice." As Baburam Babu ran after
them and tried to hit them, roundly abusing them the while, he
fell heavily to the ground. The boys only laughed at this and
clapped their hands at him from a safe distance. Baburam with a
woe-begone countenance then got into a gharry with Thakchacha and
his companions. The gharry went creaking along, and eventually
pulled up at the house of Bancharam Babu, of Outer Simla.

Bancharam Babu was the principal agent of a Mr. Butler, an attorney
living in Boitakhana; he had had a good deal of experience in the
law-courts and in cases-at-law: though his pay was only fifty
rupees a month, there was no limit to his gains, and festivals
were always in full swing in his house.

Beni Babu of Bally, Becharam Babu of Bow Bazar, and Bakreswar
Babu of Batalata, were all seated in his sitting-room, waiting
for Baburam Babu. With the arrival of that worthy the business
of the day commenced.

_Becharam_.-- Oh Baburam, what a venomous reptile have you been
nourishing all this time! You would never listen to me, though time
after time I sent word to you. Your boy Matilall has pretty well
done for his chances in this world and in the next: he drinks his
fill, he gambles[12], he eats things forbidden: caught in the very
act of gambling, he struck a policeman: Haladhar, Gadadhar, and
other boys were with him at the time. Having no children of my own,
I had fondly thought that Haladhar and Gadadhar would be as sons
to me, to offer the customary libation to my spirit when I was no
more, but my hopes are as _goor_ into which sand has fallen. I
really have no words to express my disgust at the boy's behaviour.

_Baburam_.-- Which of them has corrupted the other it may be
very difficult to say with any certainty; but just now please
tell me how I am to proceed with reference to the investigation.

_Becharam_.-- So far as I am concerned, you may do exactly as you
think fit. I have been put to very great annoyance.  The boys have
been going into the temple at night and drinking heavily there:
they have made the beams black with the smoke from tobacco and
_ganja_: they have stolen my gold and silver ornaments and sold
them; and one day they even went so far as to threaten to grind
the holy _shalgram_ to powder and eat it with their betel in
lieu of lime.  Can you expect me then to subscribe towards their
release? Ugh!  certainly not.

_Bakreswar_.-- Matilall is not so bad as all that: I have seen a
good deal of him at school: he has naturally a good disposition. He
was no ordinary boy; he was a perfect model of behaviour: how
then he can have become what you describe is beyond me.

_Thakchacha_.-- May I ask what need there is of all this
irrelevant talk? We are not likely to get our stomachs filled by
simply chatting of oil and straw: let a case be thoroughly well
got up for the trial.

_Bancharam [highly delighted at the prospect of making a good
thing out of the case_.] -- Matters of business require a man
of business. Thakchacha's words are shrewdly to the point: we
must get a few good witnesses together and have them thoroughly
instructed in their role betimes; we must also engage our
friend Mr.  Butler the attorney. If after all that we do not win
our case, I will take it up to the High Court. Then if the High
Court can do nothing, I will go up to the Council with the case;
and if the Council can do nothing, we must carry it to England
for appeal. You may put implicit confidence in me: I am not a
man to be trifled with[13]. But nothing can be done unless we
secure the services of Mr. Butler. He is a thoroughly practical
man: knows all manner of contrivances for upsetting cases, and
trains his witnesses as carefully as a man trains birds.

_Bakreswar_.-- A keen intelligence is needed in time of
misfortune. A very careful preparation for the trial is required:
why be jeered at for want of it?

_Bancharam_.-- So clever an attorney as Mr. Butler it has never
fallen to my lot to see. I have no language capable of expressing
his astuteness: three words will suffice for him to have all
these cases dismissed. Come, gentlemen, rise and let us go to him.

_Beni_.-- Pardon me, sir, I could not do what I know to be wrong,
even were my life at stake! I am prepared to follow your advice
in most matters, but I cannot risk my chances of happiness in
the next world. It is best to acknowledge a fault if one has
really been committed: there is no danger in truth, whereas to
take refuge in a lie only intensifies an evil.

_Thakchacha_.-- Ha! ha! what business have bookworms with law? The
very mention of the word sets them all atremble! If we take the
course this gentleman advises, we may as well at once prepare
our graves! Sage counsels indeed to listen to!

_Bancharam_.-- At this rate, gentlemen, it will be the case of
the old proverb over again, -- "The festival is over, and your
preparations still progressing."  I have no doubt that Beni Babu
is a man of very solid parts; why, in the _Niti Shástras_, he is
a second Jagannath Tarkapanchanan! I shall have to go some day
to Bally to hold an argument with him, but we have no time for
that just now; we must be up and doing.

_Becharam_.-- Ah, Beni my friend, I am quite of your mind! I
am getting an old man now: already three periods of my life have
passed away and one only is left to me. I too will do no wrong,
even if my life be at stake. Who are these boys that I should do
what is wrong for them? They have made my life a perfect burden to
me. Shall I be put to any expense for them? Certainly not: they
may go to jail for all I care, and then perhaps I may contrive
to live in peace.  Why should I trouble myself any more about
them? The very sight of their faces makes my blood boil. Ugh! the
young wretches!


CHAPTER VI.  MATILALL'S MOTHER AND SISTERS.

THE Vaidyabati house was all astir with preparations for
a religious ceremonial. The sun had not risen when Shridhar
Bhattacharjea, Ram Gopal Charamani and other Brahman priests, set
to work repeating _mantras_. All were employed upon something:
one was offering the sacred basil to the deity: some were busy
picking the leaves of the jessamine: others humming and beating
time on their cheeks. One was remarking: "I am no Brahman if good
fortune does not attend the sacrifices;" and another, "If things
turn out inauspiciously, I will abandon my sacred thread." The
whole household was busily engaged, but not a member of it was
happy in mind. The mistress of the house was sitting at an open
window and calling in her distress upon her guardian deity:
her infant boy lay near her, playing with a toy and tossing his
little limbs in the air.  Every now and again she glanced in the
direction of the child, and said to herself: "Ah my darling,
I cannot say what kind of destiny awaits you! To be childless
is a single sorrow and anxiety: multiplied a hundred-fold is the
misery that comes with children. How is a mother's mind distracted
if her child has the slightest complaint! she will cheerfully
sacrifice her life in order to get him well again: so long as
her babe is ill, all capacity for food and sleep deserts her:
day and night to her are alike. If a child who has caused her so
much sorrow grows up good, she feels her work accomplished; but
if the contrary be the case, a living death is hers: she takes no
interest in anything in the world and cares not to show herself
in the neighbourhood. The haughty face grows wan and pinched:
in her inmost heart, like Sita, she gives expression to this
wish: 'Oh, Earth, Earth, open, and let me hide myself within
thy bosom!' The good God knows what trouble I have taken to make
Matilall a man: my young one has now learned to fly, and heavy is
my chastisement. How it grieves me to hear of such evil conduct:
I am almost heartbroken with sorrow and chagrin. I have not told
my husband all: he might have gone mad had he heard all. Away
with these thoughts! I can endure them no longer: I am but a weak
woman. What will such laments avail me now? what must be, must be."

A maid-servant came in at that moment and took the child away, and
the mistress of the house engaged in her daily religious duties.

Man's mind is so constituted that it cannot readily forget any
particular matter it may be absorbed in, to attend to other affairs
in hand. When therefore she tried to perform her usual devotions,
she found herself unable to do so. Again and again she set herself
to fix her attention on the _mantras_ she had to repeat, but her
mind kept wandering: the thought of Matilall surged up like a
strong and irresistible flood. At one time she fancied that the
orders for his imprisonment had been passed, and her imagination
depicted him as already in fetters, and being led off to jail:
she even thought she saw his father standing near him, his head
bowed down in woe, weeping bitterly; and again she almost fancied
that her son was come to see her, and was saying to her: "Mother,
forgive me: what is past cannot now be mended, but I will never
again cause you such trouble and sorrow." She then began to dream
of some great calamity as about to befall Matilall, -- that
he would be transported perhaps for life. When these phantoms
of her imagination had left her, she began to say to herself:
"Why, it is now high noon! can I have been dreaming? No, surely
this is no dream! I must have seen a vision. I wish I could tell
why my mind is so distracted to-day!" With these words she laid
herself silently down on the ground, and wept bitterly.

Her two daughters, Mokshada and Pramada, were busy drying their
hair on the roof, and Mokshada was saying to her sister: "Why
sister Pramada, you have not half combed your hair, and how dry
it is too! But it must be so, for it is ages since a drop of oil
fell upon it.  It is just the use of oil and water that keeps
people in good health: to bathe once a month, and without using
oil, would be bad for any one. But why are you so wrapped in
thought? anxiety and trouble are making you as thin as a string."

_Pramada_.-- Ah, my sister, how can I help thinking? Cannot you
understand it all? Our father brought the son of a Kulin Brahmin
here when I was a mere child and married me to him. I only heard
about this when I was grown up. Considering the number of the
different places where he has contracted marriage, and considering
his personal character too, I have no wish to see his face: I would
rather not have a husband at all than such a one.

_Mokshada_.-- Hush, my dear! you must not say that. It is an
advantage to a woman to have a husband alive, whether his character
be bad or good.

_Pramada_.-- Listen then to what I have to tell you. Last year,
when I was suffering from intermittent fever and had been lying
long days and nights on my bed, too weak to rise, my husband came
one day to the house. From the time of my earliest impressions,
I had never seen what a husband was like: my idea was that there
was no treasure a woman could possess like a husband, and I
thought that if he only came and sat with me for a few moments
and spoke to me, my pain would be alleviated. But, my sister you
will not believe me when I say it! he came to my bedside, and
said: "You are my lawful wife, I married you sixteen years ago:
I have come to see you now because I am in need of money, and
will go away again directly: I have told your father that he has
cheated me: come, give me that bracelet off your wrist!" I told
him that I would first ask my mother, and would do what she bade
me. Thereupon he pulled the bracelet off my wrist by brute force;
and when I struggled to prevent his doing so, he gave me a kick
and left me. I fainted away, and did not recover till mother came
and fanned me.

_Mokshada_.-- Oh my dear sister Pramada, your story brings tears
into my eyes.  But consider, you still have a husband living:
I have not even that.

_Pramada_.-- A fine husband indeed, my sister! Happily for me,
I once spent some time with my uncle, and learned to read and
write and to do a little fancy work with my needle; so by constant
work during the day and by a little occasional reading, writing
or sewing, I keep my trouble hidden. If I sit idle for any time,
and begin to think, my heart burns with indignation.

_Mokshada_.-- What else can it do? Ah, it is because of the many
sins committed by us in previous births that we are suffering as
we are! It is by plenty of hard work that our bodies and minds
retain their vigour: idleness only causes evil thoughts and evil
imaginations and even disease to get a stronger hold upon us:
it was uncle that told me that. I have done all I can to soften
the pains of widowhood. I always reflect that everything is in
God's hands: reliance upon Him is the real secret of life. My dear
sister, if you so constantly ponder on your grief, you will be
overwhelmed in the ocean of anxiety: it is an ocean that has no
shore. What good can possibly result from so much brooding? Just
do all your religious and secular duties as well as you can:
honour our father and mother in everything: attend to the welfare
of our two brothers: nourish and cherish any children they may
have, and they will be as your own.

_Pramada_.-- Ah my sister, what you say is indeed true, but then
our elder brother has gone altogether astray. He is given over to
vicious ways and vicious companions; and as his disposition has
changed for the worse, so his affection for his parents and for
us has lessened. Ah, the affection that brothers have for their
sisters is not one-hundredth part of the affection that sisters
have for their brothers! In their devotion to their brothers,
sisters will even risk their lives; but brothers always think that
they will get on much better if they can only be rid of their
sisters! We are Matilall's elder sisters: if he comes near us
at all, he may perhaps make himself agreeable for a short time,
and we may congratulate ourselves upon it; but then have no any
influence whatever upon his conduct?

_Mokshada_.-- All brothers are not like that. There are brothers
who regard their elder sisters as they would their mother, and
their younger sisters as they would a daughter. I am speaking
the truth: there are brothers who look upon their sisters in the
same light as they do their brothers: they are unhappy unless they
are free to converse with them; and if they fall into any danger,
they risk their lives to save them.

_Pramada_.-- That is very true, but it is our lot to have a brother
just in keeping with our unhappy destiny. Alas, there is no such
thing as happiness in this world!

At this moment, a maid-servant came to tell them her mistress was
crying: the two sisters rushed downstairs as soon as they heard it.

It was a fine moonlight evening, the moon shedding her radiance
over the breadth of the Ganges. A gentle breeze was diffusing
the sweet fragrance of the wild jungle flowers; the waves danced
merrily in the moonlight: the birds in a neighbouring grove were
calling to each other in their varied notes. Beni Babu was seated
at the Deonagaji Ghât, looking about him and singing snatches
of some up-country song on the loves of Krishna and Radha. He
was completely absorbed in his music and was beating time to it,
when suddenly he heard somebody behind him calling his name and
echoing his song. Turning round, he saw Becharam Babu of Bow Bazar:
he at once rose, and invited his guest to take a seat.

Becharam opened the conversation. "Ah! Beni, my friend! those were
home truths you told Baburam Babu to-day. I have been invited
to your village: and as I was so pleased with what I saw of you
the other day, I wanted to come and call on you just once before
leaving."

_Beni_.-- Ah, my friend Becharam, we are poor sort of folk here!
We have to work for our living: we prefer to visit places where
the secrets of knowledge or virtue are investigated. We have a
good many rich relatives and acquaintances, but we feel embarrassed
in their presence; we visit them very occasionally, when we have
fallen into any trouble, or have any very particular business on
hand. It is never a pleasure to call on upon them, and when we do
go we derive no intellectual benefit from the visit; for whatever
respect rich men may show to other rich men, they have not much to
say to us; they just remark "It is very hot to-day. How is your
business getting on? Is it flourishing? Have a smoke?" If only they
speak cheerfully and pleasantly to us, we are fully satisfied. Ah,
learning and worth have nothing like the respect shown to them that
is shown to wealth! Paying court to rich men is a very dangerous
thing: there is a popular saying:-- "The friendship of the rich is
an embankment made of sand." Their moods are capricious: a trifle
will offend them just as a trifle will please them. People do not
consider this: wealth has such magic in it that they will put up
with any humiliation, any indignity from a rich man; they will even
submit to a thrashing, and say to the rich man after it:-- "It is
your honour's good pleasure." However this be, it is a hard thing
to live with the rich and not forfeit one's chances of happiness in
the next world. In that affair of to-day, for instance, we had a
hard struggle for the right.

_Becharam_.-- From observation of Baburam Babu's general behaviour,
I am inclined to think that his affairs are not prospering. Alas,
alas, what counsellors he has got! That wretched Mahomedan,
Thakchacha, a prince of rogues! there is an evil magic in him.
Then Bancharam, the attorney's clerk! he is like a fine mango, fair
outside but rotten at the core. Well-practised in all the arts of
chicanery, like a cat treading stealthily along in the wet, he
simulates innocence while all the while exercising his wiles to
entrap his prey. Anybody falling under the influence of that
sorcery would be utterly, and for ever, ruined. Then there is
Bakreswar the schoolmaster, a teacher of ethics forsooth! A passed
master indeed in the art of cajolery, a very prince of flatterers!
Ugh! But tell me, is it your English education that has given you
this high moral standard?

_Beni_.-- Have I this high moral standard you attribute to me? It
is only your kindness to say so. The slight acquaintance I have
with morality is entirely due to the kind favour of Barada Babu,
of Badaragan: I lived with him for some time, and he very kindly
gave me some excellent advice.

_Becharam_.-- Who is this Barada Babu? Please tell me some
particulars about him. It is always a pleasure to me to hear
anything of this kind.

_Beni_.-- Barada Babu's home is in Eastern Bengal, in Pergunnah
Etai Kagamari. On the death of his father he moved to Calcutta,
and found great difficulty at first in providing himself with food
and clothing: he had not even the wherewithal to buy his daily
meal. But from his boyhood he had always engaged in meditation
upon divine things, and so it was that when trouble befell him
it did not affect him so much. At this time he used to live in
a common tiled hut, his only means of subsistence being the two
rupees a month which he received from a younger brother of his
father's. He was on terms of intimacy with a few good men and
would associate with none but these: he was very independent, and
refused to be under obligations to anybody. Not having the means
to keep either a man-servant or a maid-servant, he did all his
own marketing, cooking for himself as well; and he did not neglect
his studies even when he was cooking. Morning noon and night, he
calmly and peacefully meditated on God. The clothes in which he
attended school were torn and dirty, and excited the derision of
rich men's sons: he pretended not to hear them when they laughed
and jeered at him, and eventually succeeded by his pleasant and
courteous address in winning them completely over. With very many,
pride is the only result of English learning: they scorn the
very earth they live on. This however found no place in the mind
of Barada Babu: his disposition was too calm and mild. When he
had completed his education he left school, and at once obtained
employment as a teacher, on thirty rupees a month. He then took
his mother, his wife and his two nephews to live with him, and
did his very utmost to make them comfortable. He would also look
after the wants of the many poor people living in his immediate
neighbourhood, helping them, as far as his means allowed, with
money, visiting them when they were sick, and supplying them
with medicine. As none of these poor people could afford to send
their children to school, he held a class for them himself every
morning. One of his cousins who had fallen dangerously ill after
his father's death, recovered entirely, thanks to the unremitting
attention of Barada Babu, who sat by his bedside for days and
nights together. He was deeply devoted to his aunt, and regarded
her quite as a mother. Some men appear to have a contempt for the
things of this world in comparison with things of eternity, like
the contempt for death that is characteristic of those who are in
constant attendance at burning-_ghâts_. Does death or calamity
befall any of their friends or kinsfolk, the world, they feel,
is nothing, and God all. This idea is constantly present to the
mind of Barada Babu: conversation with him and observation of his
conduct soon make it apparent; but he never parades his opinions
before the world. He is in no sense ostentatious: he never does
anything for mere appearance sake. All his good deeds are done in
secret: numbers of people meet with kindness from him, but only the
person actually benefited by him is aware of it; and he is much
annoyed if others get any inkling of it. Though a man of varied
accomplishments, he is without a particle of vanity. It is the
man who has only a smattering of learning who is puffed up with
pride and self-importance.  "Aha!" says such a one to himself,
"what a very learned man I am! Who can write as I do? Who is so
erudite as I? How I always do speak to the point!" Barada Babu
is a different sort of man altogether: though his learning is so
profound, he never treats the thoughts of others as beneath his
attention. It does not annoy him to hear an opinion expressed
opposite to his own: on the contrary, he listens with pleasure,
and reviews his own beliefs. To describe in detail all his good
qualities would be a long affair, but they may be summed up in
the remark that so gentle and god-fearing a man has rarely been
seen: he could not do wrong even if his life were at stake. Yes,
the amount of instruction to be had from personal intercourse
with Barada Babu far exceeds any to be got from books!

_Becharam_.-- Ah, how it charms one to hear of a man like
that! But now, as it is getting very late, and I have to cross
the river, I will, with your permission, return home.  Let me
see you for a moment at the police court to-morrow.


CHAPTER VII.  THE TRIAL OF MATILALL.

VERY strange is this world's course, and past man's
comprehension. How hard it is to determine the causes of
things! When we remember for instance the account of the origin
of Calcutta, it will appear almost miraculous; for even in a
dream none could have imagined that Calcutta as it was could ever
have become Calcutta as it is. The East India Company first had
a factory at Hooghly, their factor being Mr. Job Charnock. On
one occasion he quarrelled with the leading police official of
the place; and as the East India Company did not in those days
possess the power and dignity which they afterwards acquired, their
agent was maltreated and forced to have recourse to flight. Job
Charnock had a house and a bazaar of his own at Barrackpur, which
in consequence has been known as Chanak, even down to the present
time. He had married a woman whom he had rescued from the funeral
pile just as she was about to become a _suttee_; but whether the
marriage contributed to the mutual happiness of each, there is no
evidence to show. Job Charnock was constantly journeying to and
fro between Barrackpur and Uluberia, where he was building a new
factory: it was the wish of his heart to have a factory there,
but how many undertakings fall just short of completion[14]! As he
journeyed to and fro, he used often to pass by Boitakhana, and
would halt for a rest and a smoke under a large tree there. This
tree was the favourite resort of many men of business, and Job
Charnock was so enamoured of the shade of it that he decided
upon building his factory there. The three villages of Sutanati,
Govindpur and Calcutta, which he had purchased, soon filled up,
and it was not long before people of all classes took up their
abode there for trade, and so Calcutta soon became a city, and
populous. The first beginnings of Calcutta as a city date from
the year 1689 of the Christian era.  Job Charnock died some three
years after that. In those days the great plain where the Fort
and Chowringhee now are was all jungle. The Fort itself formerly
stood where the Custom House now stands, and Clive Street was
the chief business quarter of the city. So fatal to health was
Calcutta at one time considered, that the English gentlemen who
had escaped with their lives during the year, would annually meet
together on the 15th of November and offer their congratulations
to each other. One prominent characteristic of Englishmen is
to have everything about them scrupulously clean, and disease
gradually diminished as sanitary precautions came more and more
into vogue. But the people of Bengal do not take this lesson
to heart: to the present day there are tanks near the houses of
our wealthiest citizens, which smell so bad that one can hardly
approach them.

In former days the duties connected with the Revenue and Criminal
Courts and the Police Administration of Calcutta devolved upon a
single Englishman: he had a Bengali official as his subordinate,
and he himself was called the _Jemadar_. Later on, there came to be
other Courts; and with the view of checking the high-handedness of
the English in the country, the Supreme Court was established. The
administration of the Police was made an independent charge, and
was very ably conducted. In the year 1798 of the Christian era, Sir
John Richardson and others were employed as Justices of the Peace;
and afterwards, in the year 1800, Mr. Blaquiere and others were
appointed to hold this office. The jurisdiction of the Justices
extended to every part of the country. When it became necessary for
the jurisdiction of those who were simply Magistrates to extend
beyond their head districts, the assistance of the Judge's Court
of the particular district had to be sought, and consequently
many Magistrates in the Mofussil have now been made Justices
of the Peace.  Mr.  Blaquiere has been dead some four years;
it was currently reported that his father was an Englishman and
his mother a Brahman woman, and that he had received his earliest
education in India, but had afterwards gone to England and been
well educated there.  During his tenure of office as head of the
Police Department, Calcutta trembled at his stern severity, and
all were afraid of him. After some time he gave up the detective
part of his work and the apprehension of criminals, to confine
his attention to the trial of prisoners brought before him. He
made an excellent judge, being well versed in the language of the
country, its customs, manners, and all the inner details of the
life of the people. He had the Criminal Law too at his fingers'
ends; and having for some time acted as interpreter to the Supreme
Court, was thoroughly well acquainted with the proper method of
conducting trials.

Time and water run apace. Monday came. Ten o'clock had just
struck by the church clock: the police court was crowded with
police officers, sergeants, constables, _darogahs_, _naibs_,
sub-inspectors, _chowkidars_, and with all sorts and conditions
of people. Some of these were keepers of low lodging-houses
and women of loose character, who sat about the Court chewing
betel and _pán_: some, as their bloodstained clothes sufficiently
showed were victims of assaults: some were thieves, who sat apart
dejected and sad: some, conspicuous by their turbans, were engaged
in writing out petitions in English.  Some were complainants in
the different cases, who tramped noisily about the court; others,
who were to be witnesses, were busily whispering to each other:
the men who make it their business to provide bail were sitting
about as thick as crows at a _ghât_. Here were pleaders' touts,
using all their arts to get clients for their masters: there were
pleaders engaged in coaching their witnesses: and here the _amlahs_
were writing out cases that had been sent up by the Police. The
sergeants of police looked very important as they marched up and
down with proud and pompous port. The chief clerks were discussing
different English magistrates: this one was declared to be a great
fool, that one a very cunning man, a third too mild and easily
imposed upon, a fourth too harsh and rough; they pronounced also
an unfavourable criticism on the orders passed the previous day
in a particular case. The police court was so crowded, indeed,
that it seemed the very Hall of Yama, and all looked forward with
fear and trembling to their fate.

Baburam Babu came bustling up to the court, accompanied by his 
pleader, his counsellor Thakchacha, and some of his relatives. 
Thakchacha was wearing a conical cap, fine muslin clothes, and 
the peculiar turned-up shoes of his class. His crystal beads in 
hand, he was invoking the names of his special guardian genius 
and his Prophet, and muttering his prayers with repeated shakings
of the head; but this was all mere ostentation. A man so full of
tricks as Thakchacha is not met with every day. At the police 
court he spun about hither and thither, for all the world like a 
peg-top. At one moment he was coaching his witnesses in a whisper;
the next, walking about hand in hand with Baburam Babu; the next,
consulting with Mr. Butler: in this way he attracted everybody's
attention. Now it is a failing with many people to imagine their 
fathers and grandfathers (who may have been great rogues in 
reality) to have been celebrated people, well known to all; and 
the consequence is that when they have to introduce themselves to 
others they will do so, saying: "I am the son of so-and-so, and 
the grandson of so-and-so." To anybody who came up to converse 
with Thakchacha, he would introduce himself as the son of Abdul 
Rahman Gul, and the grandson of Ampak Ghulam Hosain. A _sircar_ 
in the court, who was fond of his joke, remarked to him: "Come, 
tell me what is your special business? A few low-class Mahomedans 
in your own neighbourhood may perhaps know the names of your 
father and grandfather, but who is likely to know them in this
city of Calcutta? perhaps however they carried on the profession
of _syces_." Thakchacha, his eyes inflamed with passion, replied:
"I can say nothing here, as this is the police court: in any other
place, I would fall upon you and tear you to pieces." As he said
this, he grasped Baburam Babu's hand in his, to make the _sircar_
imagine him a man of much importance, held in high honour.

Meanwhile there was a stir near the steps of the police court:
a carriage had just driven up: the door was opened, and a
withered old gentleman alighted from it. The sergeants of police
raised their hats in salute, and called out, "Mr. Blaquiere has
arrived." The magistrate, having taken his seat on the bench,
disposed first of some cases of assault. Matilall's case was then
called: The complainants, Kale Khan and Phate Khan, took up their
position on one side, while on the other side stood Baburam Babu
of Vaidyabati, Beni Babu of Bally, Bakreswar Babu of Batalata,
Becharam Babu of Bow Bazar, and Mr.  Butler of Boitakhana. Baburam
Babu was wearing a fine shawl, and had a gorgeous turban on his
head: his sacred caste mark, with the sign of the _Hom_ offering
over it, was conspicuous on his forehead. With tears in his eyes,
and his hands folded humbly in supplication, he gazed at the
magistrate, who, he fondly imagined, would be sure to commiserate
him if he saw his tears. Matilall, Haladhar, Gadadhar, and the
other accused, were brought before the magistrate: Matilall stood
there, with his head bowed low in shame. When Baburam Babu saw the
boy's face pinched from want of food, his heart was pierced. The
complainants charged the accused with gambling in a place of
ill-fame, and with having effected their escape when arrested by
grievously assaulting them; and they stripped and showed the marks
of the assault upon their persons. Mr.  Butler cross-examined the
complainants and their witness at some length, and conclusively
showed that there was no case made out against Matilall. This
was not at all surprising, considering that for one thing he had
all a pleader's art exercised in his favour, and for another that
there was collusion between the complainants and the counsel of
the accused.  What will not money do? An old proverb[15] runs:--

"Gold for the dotard a fair bride will win."

Mr. Butler afterwards produced his witnesses, who all declared
that on the day the assault was said to have been committed,
Matilall was at home at Vaidyabati; but on cross-examination by
Mr. Blaquiere, they were not so clear.  Thakchacha saw that things
were not going well: a slight slip might ruin everything. Most
people, reduced to the necessity of having recourse to law,
give up all ideas of right and wrong: they sever themselves
from all connection with truth, once they have to enter the Law
Courts: their sole idea must be to win their case somehow or
other. Thakchacha then went forward himself, and gave evidence
that on the day and at the time mentioned by the prosecution he
was engaged teaching Matilall Persian at his home in Vaidyabati.
Though the magistrate subjected him to severe cross-examination,
Thakchacha was not a man to be easily confused: he was well
up in law-suits, and his original evidence was not shaken in
any way. Then Mr. Butler addressed the Court, and after some
deliberation the magistrate passed orders that Matilall should
be released, but that the other accused should be imprisoned for
one calendar month, and pay a fine of thirty rupees each.

Loud were the cries of _Hori Bol_ on the passing of this order,
and Baburam Babu shouted: "Oh Incarnation of Justice, most acute
is your judgment! soon may you be made Governor of the land!"

When they were all in the courtyard of the police court, Haladhar
and Gadadhar caught sight of Premnaryan Mozoomdar, and at once
commenced singing in his ear with the intention of annoying him;--

"Hasten homeward, hasten homeward, Premnarayan Mozoomdar,
"Hop into your native jungle, black-faced monkey that you are!"

Premnarayan only replied: "What wicked boys you are! Here you
are going to jail, but you cannot cease your tricks." While he
was still speaking, they were led away to jail. When Beni Babu,
who was a very worthy god-fearing man, saw virtue thus defeated
and vice triumphant, he was perfectly astounded.  Thakchacha,
shaking his head and smiling sardonically, said to him: "How now,
sir, what does the man of books say now? Why, if we had acted in
accordance with you suggestions, it would have been all up with
us." At this moment Bancharam Babu came running up in haste,
gesticulating and saying: "Ha! ha!  see what comes of trusting
me! I told you I was no fool." Bakreswar too had his say. "Ah,
he is no ordinary boy is Matilall! he is a very model of what
a boy should be." "Ugh!" exclaimed Becharam Babu: "It was not I
that wished this wrong done: I didn't want to see this case won,
far from it." Saying this, he took Beni Babu's hand and went off
with him. Baburam Babu having made his offerings at Kali's shrine
at Kalighat, embarked on a boat to return home.

Though the Bengalees have always great pride of caste, it may
sometimes fall out that even a Mahomedan may be regarded as
worthy of equal honour with the ancestral deity, and Baburam
Babu began now to regard Thakchacha as a veritable Bhishma Deva:
he put his arms round his neck and forgot everything else in the
joy of victory: food and devotions were alike neglected. Again
and again they repeated that Mr. Butler had no equal, that there
was no one like Bancharam Babu that Becharam Babu and Beni Babu
were utter idiots. Matilall gazed all about him, at one moment
standing on the edge of the boat, at another pulling an oar, at
another sitting on the roof of the cabin or hard at work with the
rudder. "What are you doing, boy?" said Baburam to him, "Do sit
quiet for a moment, if you can." One of Baburam Babu's gardeners,
Shankur Mali, of Kashijora, prepared the Babu's tobacco for him:
his heart expanded with joy, when he saw his master looking so
happy, and he asked him: "Will you have many nautches at the Durga
Pujah this year, sir? Isn't that a cotton factory over there? How
many cotton factories have these unbelievers set up?"

Change is the order of things in this world. Anger cannot long
remain latent in the mind, but must reveal itself sooner or later;
and so with a storm in nature, when there is great heat, and a
calm atmosphere, a squall[16] may suddenly rise. The sun was just
setting, the evening coming on, when suddenly, in the twinkling
of an eye, a small black cloud rose in the west: in a few minutes
deep darkness had overspread the sky, and then with a rushing roar
of wind the storm was on them. No one could see his neighbour: the
boatmen shouted to each other to look out: the lightning flashed,
and all were terrified at the loud and repeated thunder claps:
down came the rain like a waterspout, and they were driven to
take shelter in the cabin. The waters rose and dashed against the
boats, several of which were swamped. Seeing this, the men in the
remaining boats struggled hard to get to shore, but the violence
of the wind drove them in the opposite direction. Thakchacha's
chattering ceased: frightened out of his senses, and clasping his
bead chaplet in his hands, he gabbled aloud his prayers, calling
on his Prophet and Patron, -- Saint Mahomed Ali, and Satya Pir.

Baburam Babu too was in great anxiety. It seemed to be the
beginning of the punishment of his misdeeds: who can remain calm
in mind when he is conscious of wrong? Cunning and craft may
suffice to conceal a crime from the eye of the world, but nothing
can escape the conscience. The sinner is ever at the mercy of its
sting: he is always in a state of alarm and dread, never at ease:
he may occasionally indulge in laughter, but it is unnatural
and forced. Baburam Babu wept from sheer fright, and said to
Thakchacha: "Oh, Thakchacha, what is going to happen? I seem to
see an untimely death before me! surely this is Nemesis. Alas,
alas! to have just effected the release of my son, and yet to
be unable to get him safe home and deliver him to his mother:
my wife will die of grief if I perish. Ah, now I call to mind
the words of my friend Beni Babu: all would have been well had I
not turned aside out of the path of rectitude."  Thakchacha too
was in a high state of alarm, but the old sinner was a great
boaster, and so he answered: "Why be so alarmed, Babu? Even if
the boat is swamped, I will take you to shore on my shoulders:
it is misfortune that shows what a brave man really is." The
storm increased in violence, and the boat was soon in a sinking
condition: all were in an extremity of terror, shouting for help,
and Thakchacha's only thought was his own safety.


CHAPTER VIII.  BABURAM AND MATILALL RETURN HOME.

MR. Butler had just arrived at his office and was overhauling his
books to see what business was doing during the current month:
his dog was asleep near him.  Every now and again the Saheb
would whistle, and take a pinch of snuff; then he would examine
his account hook or stand up and stretch his legs. He thought
anxiously of the large sums he would have to pay as fees in the
different offices of the Court[17]: though by no means possessed
of large resources, he knew very well that business would be
at a standstill if he did not pay his money down before Term
opened. He was thus engaged when the _sircar_ of Mr. Howard,
another attorney, entered his office, and put two papers into
his hand.  The Saheb's face beamed with delight, and he called out
to Bancharam to come to him at once. Bancharam, throwing his shawl
over a chair and sticking his pen behind his ear, attended at once
to the summons. "Ha, Bancharam!" said Mr.  Butler, "I am in luck
indeed: there are two cases against Baburam Babu -- an action in
ejectment for non-payment of revenue, and a suit in equity. Mr.
Howard has served me with a notice, and a _subpoena_ to attend." 
On hearing this news Bancharam clapped his elbows against his 
sides with delight and said: "Aha, Saheb, see what a fine headman 
I am! all sorts of good things will come to us by my introduction
of Baburam.  Give me the two papers quick and let me go in person
to Vaidyabati. These are not matters to be entrusted to another: I
shall have to employ a good deal of coaxing and wheedling, and all
my arts of persuasion will have to be called into requisition. If
I can only once climb to the top of the Tree of Fortune, I will
simply shower rupees down: just now we are very short of cash,
and we cannot afford that in a business like ours; by a sudden
dash like this we may safely reckon on getting something."

Meanwhile in the Vaidyabati house, propitiatory sacrifices were
being offered: musical instruments of all kinds were braying
and jangling. The crash of drums, the blare of brass trumpets,
the clashing of cymbals, astonished the dawn. In the great hall
of worship offerings for Matilall's welfare were in progress.
The Brahmans were variously occupied in reciting the hymn to
Durga, working up Ganges clay into representations of Siva,
or offering leaves of the sacred basil to the holy _shalgram_
in the centre of the hall. Others, deep in thought, their heads
resting on their hands, were saying to each other: "How about
our divine Brahmanhood now? so far from having saved Matilall,
our master too must now have perished with him. If he was aboard
yesterday, the boat must have been lost in the storm last night:
there can be no doubt about that.  Anyhow the family are ruined:
the young Babu will now be proclaimed master, and what kind of man
he is likely to turn out no one can say: our prospects of gain
appear now to be very remote." One of the Brahmans present said
very quietly: "Why are you so anxious? nobody is depriving us of
our gains. Apply to our own case the simile of the saw cutting
the shell. The saw will cut chips off the shell whether it moves
forward or whether it moves backwards: even if the master be no
more, there will have to be a gorgeous _shraddha_. The master is
not a young man, and if the old lady objects to spending much on
his _shraddha_, everybody will abuse her." Another remarked: "Ah,
my friend, that may be all very true, but in case of his death our
gains will become very precarious: I prefer the supply to be as
constant as the Vasudhara[18]: let us be ever getting, ever eating,
say I: one shower will not suffice a long-continued thirst."

Baburam Babu's wife was a most devoted partner: ever since her
lord's departure she had been very restless and had neglected her
daily food. She had been sitting all night at one of the windows
of the house from which the Ganges was visible. As the wind blew
in strong gusts every now and again, she shuddered with fright:
she kept gazing out into the storm, but her heart trembled as she
looked: the continual rumbling of the thunder made her anxious,
and she called upon the Almighty in her distress. Time went by:
hardly a boat passed up or down the Ganges: whenever she heard
a sound she would get up and look: occasionally she saw a light
glimmering faintly in the distance and at once concluded it came
from some vessel. At last a boat did come in sight, and she waited
for it to come and tie up at the _ghât_; but when it passed on,
only skirting the shore without coming to land, the agony of
despair pierced her heart like a dart.

The night had almost come to an end and the storm had gradually
lulled. How beautiful is the calm of creation that succeeds tumult
and confusion! The stars again shone in the sky: the moon's light
seemed to dance sportively on the waters of the river: so still had
the earth become that even the rustle of the leaves could be heard.

Baburam Babu's wife, as she anxiously gazed about her, exclaimed
in her impatience: "Oh Lord of Creation! to my knowledge I have
done no wrong to any one: I have committed no sin that I am aware
of. Must I now after so long a time endure all the pangs of
widowhood? Wealth I care nothing for: ornaments I have no use for:
to be poor would be no hardship to me, I should not grieve: but
this one boon I pray for, that I may be able to look upon the faces
of my husband and my son when I die." Indeed her mental anguish
was extreme, but being a cautious woman, as well as naturally
reserved, she restrained herself lest her tears should distress
her daughters. So the night passed away, and music in the house
ushered in the dawn. The sound of melody, ordinarily so attractive,
in the case of one afflicted in mind only serves to open the
floodgates of grief; and the sorrow of the mistress of the house
was but intensified by the sweet sounds.

Just then a fisherman came to the Vaidyabati house to sell fish:
in answer to their enquiries, he said: "During the storm there
was a boat in a more or less sinking condition on the sandbank
known as the Bansberia Chur: I rather think it must have been
swamped: there was a stout gentleman in it, a Mahomedan, a young
gentleman, and others." This news was as if a thunderbolt had
fallen amongst them: the music at once ceased, and all the members
of the household lifted up their voices and wept.

Later in the day, towards evening, Bancharam Babu arrived with
his usual bustle at the reception-room of the Vaidyabati house,
and enquired for the master: on hearing the news from one of the
servants, he fell into deep thought, resting his head on his hand,
and then exclaimed: "Alas, alas, a great man has departed!" Having
given way for some time to loud lamentation, he finally called
for a pipe of tobacco, and thus reflected, as he puffed away:--
"Ah!  Baburam Babu is now dead, would that I also were so! Where
now are all those hopes with which I came? They have vanished,
and here am I with the great Durga Festival coming off at home,
the image not yet decorated, or even coloured, and without the
wherewithal to pay for it: I am quite at a loss to know what to
do. A few rupees just now would have been exceedingly serviceable,
no matter how they might have been got. I could have given some
to my master, some I would have kept for myself: it would have
been a very simple thing to cook the accounts by making a false
entry or two.  Who could have anticipated that the heavens would
have burst asunder and fallen upon my head like this?" Then,
just for the look of the thing, he shed a few tears before the
servants, weeping really for the loss of his dear rupees. The
officiating Brahmans, seeing him there, came and sat down by
him. The wearers of the sacred thread are, as a rule, a very
astute sort of people: it is hard to get at their thoughts. Some
began to recount the good qualities of Baburam Babu: others
complained that they were now orphans, bereft of their father:
others, unable to restrain their greed of gain, remarked: "There
is no time now for mourning: we must bestir ourselves to ensure
Baburam Babu's happiness in the next world: he was a man of no
ordinary importance." Without paying much attention to what they
were saying, Bancharam Babu smoked away, and nodded his head: he
knew the old proverb: "What advantage does the crow get, even if
the _bael_ is ripe?" It seemed as if he had got to the end of all
things, so thoroughly broken-hearted was he: he could only sigh as
he listened to what was being said: he had no plans, nor, alas,
could he think of anybody to fleece! The idea once occurred to
him that he might make something by informing the family that some
fine portions of their property might be lost to them unless they
held a very careful enquiry, but then he considered that his words
would be only wasted if he spoke when their grief was so fresh.
While he was thus musing, a sudden stir arose at the door, where
a messenger had just arrived with a letter: the address was in
the handwriting of Baburam Babu, but the messenger could give no
particulars. The mistress of the house snatched at the letter,
carried it into the house, opened it hurriedly, and devoured its
contents. The letter was as follows:--

"Last night I was in terrible danger: the boat I was in was
carried away in the darkness, at the mercy of the storm, and the
boatmen lost all control over it: finally, it capsized with the
violence of the waves. I was in extreme terror as it was sinking,
but at the next moment I remembered you: I imagined you standing
near me and saying: 'Be not afraid in the time of adversity:
call on the Almighty with body, mind, and soul: He is merciful,
and will rescue you out of your danger.' I acted accordingly,
and when I fell into the water I found myself upon a sandbank,
where the water was only knee deep.  The boat was soon dashed to
pieces by the violence of the storm. I remained on the sandbank
the entire night and reached Bansberia next morning. Matilall fell
ill from exposure, but he has been under medical treatment and
is now again convalescent. I expect to reach home by nightfall."

The moment that she had read the letter, the heat of her grief
was extinguished: she pondered long, and then exclaimed: "Can
such a joyful destiny indeed befall so sorrowful a wretch as
myself?" Even while she spoke, Baburam Babu arrived with his son
and Thakchacha. Everywhere there was a great stir. The minds of all
the members of the household had been shrouded in a mist of grief,
and now the sun of joy had risen. As she gazed upon her husband
and her son, holding her two daughters by the hand, the mistress
of the house wept tears of joy. She had been intending to upbraid
Matilall for his conduct, but now all was forgotten: the two girls,
holding their brother's hands, fell at their father's feet and
wept. Then the infant boy saw his father, it was as though he had
found a treasure: he kept his arms tight round his neck, and for
long refused to slacken his embrace: the women of the household too
offered loud prayers for the welfare of their master, as though
with _pán_ and betel in hand, they were praying for the welfare
of a bridegroom. Baburam Babu was for some time like a man in a
trance, unable to utter a word. Matilall reflected to himself:
"The sinking of the boat has been a piece of good luck for me:
it has saved me from a good scolding from my mother." As soon
as the Brahmans in the outer apartments of the house saw Baburam
Babu, they greeted him with vociferous blessings, saying in the
Sanskrit tongue:-- "Supreme over all is the might of the gods,"
and adding: "How could any calamity befall you, sir, with your
own merits on the one hand, and on the other the divine rites
that have been performed on your behalf? If such can befall,
then are we no Brahmans."

Thakchacha rose up in great wrath when he heard this language,
and said: "Sir, if it is by the influence of these men that
calamity has been averted from you, is all my trouble on your
behalf to go for nothing? do my prayers count for nothing?" The
Brahmans at once humbly acquiesced saying: "Ah sir, just as the
divine Krishna was once Arjuna's charioteer, so you have been the
master's! all has happened by the might of your intelligence:
you are a special incarnation: calamity flies far away from
anyplace where you are, as from any place where we are."

Bancharam Babu had been all this time like a serpent with its
crest-jewel lost, depressed and sad. He shed a few sham tears,
to show off before Baburam Baba (his eyes were always rather
watery), and his breast heaved with emotion.  Fish would fall
to his bait, he was firmly persuaded, if now he only threw in
sufficient. When he heard the Brahmans' talk, he came up to them
and with his favourite gesture, said: "I am no fool I can tell
you: calamity could not possibly befall the master with me.  Am I
merely a Calcutta grasscutter that I could not have helped him?"


CHAPTER IX.  MATILALL AND HIS FRIENDS.

WHEN a child is once corrupted, it is hard to effect any
improvement. Every means should be tried to instil good principles
into the mind from childhood: the character may then ripen for
good and the mind become more strongly bent towards the right
than towards evil; but if a boy gets hold of bad companions
or receives ill advice in his early boyhood, then, such is the
unsteadiness natural to his age, all will probably go wrong with
him thereafter. So long then as he remains still a boy, with the
mind of a boy, he must be assiduously employed in a variety of
good pursuits. If boys were to receive an education like this
up to the age of twenty-five, there would be no probability of
their following evil courses: their minds would by that time have
become so elevated that the mere mention of evil would excite
anger and loathing. But it is very difficult for children in this
country to receive such a training, owing, in the first place,
to the lack of good teachers, and in the second to the lack of
good books. There is urgent need of works that will promote the
growth of high principles and of sound judgment, but ordinary
people are persuaded that a solid education consists in teaching
the meaning of a number of sounds: then again, very few people
seem to have any idea of the methods whereby good principles
are implanted in the mind; and finally the nature of the home
surroundings of children in this country is strongly against
the implanting of such principles. One boy may have a drunkard
or a gambler as his father, another may have as his uncles men
of immoral life; the mother herself too, being unable to read
or write, may not exert herself for her children's education. A
great deal of evil moreover is learnt from association with the
different members of the household, the men and women servants;
it may be also that from consorting with all kinds of boys in the
village or at the village-school, children get to learn their evil
ways and vicious habits, and so are ruined for life. Even where
but one of the causes mentioned exists, the obstacle in the way
of good education is grievous enough, but where they all exist in
combination, there the drawbacks are simply terrible. It is like
setting fire to straw: let a man only pour _ghee_ where the fire
is beginning to blaze, and within a very short space the flame
is everywhere, and reduces to ashes whatever it finds in its way.

Many people thought that Matilall would have reformed after
the affair of the police court; but the boy who is devoid of
good qualities and high principles, and without any regard for
honour or dishonour, has no particular feeling of abhorrence for
punishments. Evil thoughts and good thoughts alike have their
origin in the mind, and are therefore intimately bound up with
the character: a mere physical affliction or trouble then cannot
be expected to change the wind's direction. Doubtless, when the
sergeant of police was dragging Matilall along through the streets,
he may have thought it at the actual time a trouble and a disgrace,
but the feeling was only momentary: once in the guard-room, he
seemed to have lost ail anxiety or fear or sense of dishonour and
he was such a nuisance all that night and the whole of the next day
to his neighbours, as he sang and imitated the cries of dogs and
jackals, that they put their hands to their ears, and exclaiming
"Ram, Ram!" said to each other: "Why, we are far worse off with
this boy in our neighbourhood than if he were in prison." When
he stood before the magistrate next day, he kept his head bent
down like Shishu Pal, of _Mahabharata_ renown, but it was done
to deceive his father. In reality he recked little whether he
went to jail and was put in fetters, or what happened to him.

Boys absolutely devoid of respect, of fear, and of shame, and
addicted to purely evil courses, are afflicted with no ordinary
disease: their complaint is really mental, and if only the
proper remedies are applied, a cure may in process of time be
effected. But Baburam Babu had no ideas on the subject at all:
he was firmly convinced that Matilall was a very good boy, and
used at first to wax very wrath if he heard him abused. Though all
sorts of people were continually telling him about his son, he was
as one who heard not; and if afterwards from his own observations
a doubt did arise in his mind, he kept his misgivings to himself,
and for fear of being mortified before others, refrained from
expressing them, but simply gave secret orders to the door-keeper
not to let Matilall leave the house. This was no remedy: the
disease had obtained too strong a hold upon the boy, and no
possible good could result from simply keeping him a prisoner
and constantly in his sight. You may put a bar of iron on a mind
once corrupted, without making any impression: on the contrary,
mere repression may only have the effect of intensifying the evil
in the mind. At first Matilall used to get out of the house by
jumping over the walk. On the release of his old companions of Bow
Bazar from jail, they came to live at Vaidyabati, and some of the
boys of the place having joined them, they formed themselves into
a band. Matilall's sense of respect and fear was soon destroyed
altogether by his association with these young scamps, and he
ended by paying no attention at all to his father.

Boys who have not been accustomed from their childhood to innocent
and harmless amusements, are apt to take to diversions of a low
kind. The children of Englishmen are instructed by their parents
in a variety of innocent pastimes, in order that they may have
sound minds and sound bodies: some draw and paint: some cultivate
a taste for botany: some learn music: some devote themselves
to sport and gymnastics: each takes up the form of harmless
enjoyment most congenial to him. Boys in this country follow
the example that is set them: their one wish is to be dressed in
gorgeous attire, with a profusion of gold embroidery and jewels:
to make up picnic parties of their chums and gay companions, and
to live luxuriously in all a Babu's style. Fondness for display
and extravagance naturally characterizes the season of youth: if
care is not very early exercised in this matter, the desire grows
in intensity, and a variety of evils result, by which eventually
body and mind alike may be irretrievably ruined.

Matilall gradually threw off all restraint: he became so depraved
that continuing to throw dust in his father's eyes, he now openly
spoke of him in the most unfilial and atrocious manner. The
constant burden of his talks with his companions was: "Ah, if my
old father would but die, I could then enjoy myself to my heart's
content!" Any money he demanded from his parents they gave him:
if there was any hesitation on their part, he would at once say:
"Very well, then, I will go hang myself, or else take poison." His
parents in their alarm thought: "Ah, what must be, must! Our
life is bound up with the boy's life, he is our _Shivratri_[19]
lamp: let him live and we shall have our libations when we are
gone[20]."

Matilall spent his whole time in riotous living: he hardly spent
a minute of his day at home: at one time he would be engaged at a
picnic, taking part in a theatrical entertainment, or making one
of a party of amateur musicians: at another, he would be running
about getting up a procession in honour of some local deity, or
else absorbed in contemplating a nautch: or again, he would be
creating a disturbance, and making unprovoked assaults upon other
people. His appetite for stimulants, whether it were _ganja_,
opium or even wine, never failed him, and tobacco of course was
in constant demand.

They carried foppery to an extreme, these young Babus, wearing
their hair in curls and using powder for their teeth. Their dress
was of fine Dacca muslin embroidered with gold lace: on their
heads they wore embroidered caps; carried in their hands silk
handkerchiefs perfumed with attar of roses, and light canes; and
smart English dress shoes with silver buckles adorned their feet.
As, moreover, they had no spare time for their regular meals,
they carried about with them all sorts of dainty sweetmeats.

Unless an evil disposition is checked at the very outset, it
grows worse every day, and in time becomes quite brute-like
in its nature: just as when a man has once become enslaved to
opium, the quantity he takes tends constantly to increase, so
when a man has become addicted to evil habits, the craving for
still more grievous courses comes naturally of itself. Matilall
and his companions soon began to think the amusements they had
hitherto been indulging in too tame: they no longer gave them any
special pleasure; so they set to work to devise means for more
solid pleasures. They now started sallying forth in a band late
in the evenings, setting fire to and plundering houses, setting
the thatch of poor people's huts alight, visiting the houses of
loose women and creating a disturbance, pulling their hair about,
burning their mosquito curtains, and plundering their dresses
and ornaments. Sometimes, they would even insult a respectable
girl. The people of the place were terribly annoyed at all this,
but the young men only snapped their fingers at them in derision,
and consigned them all to perdition.

Baburam Babu had been for some time in Calcutta on business. One
day towards evening, a zenana _palki_ was passing the Vaidyabati
house. As soon as the young scoundrels saw it, they at once ran
out, surrounded it, and commenced beating the _palki_-bearers,
who thereupon set the _palki_ down and ran for their lives.
Opening the _palki_, they saw a beautiful young girl inside.
Matilall ran forward, seized the girl's hand, and dragged her out
of the _palki_ trembling all over with confusion and fear. In
vain she looked around her for help: she saw only pitiless
dark space. Then weeping bitterly she called on the Almighty:
"Oh Lord, protect the helpless young orphan! I am content to die,
only grant that I may not lose my honour." As the young Babus were
all struggling together to get possession of her, she fell to the
ground; they then tried to drag her by main force into the house.
Matilall's mother hastened outside in some trepidation when she
heard the sound of the girl's weeping, and the miscreants thereupon
took to their heels. Seeing the mistress of the house, the young
girl fell at her feet and said in her distress: "Oh dear lady,
protect my honour! You must be a devoted wife yourself." None
but a faithful and virtuous wife can understand the danger of a
virtuous woman.  Baburam Babu's wife at once lifted the girl off
the ground and wiped away her tears with the border of her _sari_,
saying as she did so: "My dear child, do not weep, you have no
further cause for fear; I will cherish you as my own dear child:
the Lord Almighty always protects the honour of the woman who is
faithful to her vows." With these words she dispelled the girl's
fears, and when she had soothed and consoled her, accompanied
her to her home, and left her there.



CHAPTER X.  THE MARRIAGE CONTRACT.

THE waving of lamps and the loud clanging of bells showed
the worship of the goddess Nistarini[21] to be in full swing in
Sheoraphuli. Becharam Babu looked into the shrine of the goddess as
he went by on foot: lining both sides of the road were shops: in
some of them heaps of potatoes, grown at Bandipore and Gopalpore,
were exposed for sale: in others, the shopkeepers were hard at
work selling parched rice and sweetmeats, grain and _dal_. Here
in one part were oil-merchants sitting near their mills, (which
were simply the hollowed out trunks of trees,) and reading the
_Ramayan_ in the vulgar tongue: now and then they would urge on
their cattle, as they went circling round, with a click of the
tongue, and when the circle was completed, would shriek out the
passage: "Oh Ram! we are monkeys, Ram, we are monkeys!" Women
were busily engaged in cutting up fish for sale by the light of
their lamps, and calling out: "Buy our fish, buy our fish!" while
cloth merchants, reciting some passage from the _Mahabharata_
were murdering its unhappy author[22]. All this, as he passed
through the Bazaar, Becharam Babu was closely observing. When a
man is taking a solitary walk, anything that has recently occupied
his attention keeps recurring to his mind. Now, Becharam Babu was
very fond in those days of processional singing; and as he went
along an unfrequented path, after leaving his dwelling, one of his
favourite songs came into his mind. The night was dark and there
was hardly a soul about: only a few bullock-carts, their wheels
creaking as they lumbered along, were on their way home: dogs
were barking here and there. So Becharam Babu began to put all his
lung-power into the song he was chanting in the monotone peculiar
to processional music.  The village women hearing his nasal twang,
screamed aloud in their terror, for it is the rooted conviction
of the country folk that only ghosts adopt this peculiar vocal
style. Hearing the commotion Becharam was somewhat disconcerted,
so he took to his heels and soon reached the Vaidyabati house.

Baburam Babu had a big gathering. Beni Babu of Bally, Bakreswar
Babu of Batalata, Bancharam Babu of Outer Simla and many others
were present.  Thakchacha sat on a chair near the master. Several
pandits were there discussing the _Shástras_; some had taken up
passages of the treatises concerning logic and metaphysics for
discussion: others were hotly discussing the dates that would
be auspicious or otherwise for the annual festivals: others were
giving their interpretation of the _slokas_ out of a particular
portion of the _Bhagavad Gita_: others were holding a great
argument on grammatical niceties.  One of the pandits, a man
with an Assamese designation and a resident of Kamikhya, who was
sitting near the master, said to him as he pulled away at his pipe:
"You are a very fortunate man, sir, to possess two sons and two
daughters. This year is a somewhat unpropitious one, but if you
offer up a sacrifice, the stars may all be favourable again, and
you can use their influence on your behalf." In the midst of the
discussion Becharam Babu arrived, and the whole company rose to
their feet as he entered, and welcomed him most cordially. The
visitor had been more or less in a bad temper since the affair
of the police court, but a courteous and kind address has a great
effect in turning a man's wrath away; and Becharam Babu, mollified
by the courteous welcome so unanimously accorded him, sat down with
a smile close to Beni Babu.  Baburam Babu thereupon said to him:
"Sir, the seat you have taken is not a good one: come and sit with
me on my couch." Men after each other's hearts are as inseparable
as cranes, and notwithstanding the pressing invitation of Baburam
Babu, Becharam Babu would not give up his seat near Beni Babu.

After some time spent in conversation on different topics, Becharam
Babu asked: "What about Matilall's marriage contract? Where has
it been arranged?"

_Baburam_.-- A good many proposals for a contract of marriage
have come in: Haridas Babu of Guptipara, Shyma Charan Babu
of Nakashipur, Ram Hari Babu of Kanchrapara, and many others
belonging to different districts have sent in proposals. These
have all been passed over, and a marriage has been arranged with
the daughter of Madhav Babu of Manirampur. He is a man possessed
of considerable property; we shall, moreover, make a good deal
out of the connection.

_Becharam_.-- Beni, my friend, what do you think about this? Come,
tell me plainly and openly your opinion.

_Beni_. -- Becharam, my dear friend, it is no easy matter to
tell you plainly: you know the proverb: "A dumb man makes no
enemies." Besides what is the use of discussing, a thing that
has been settled?

_Becharam_.-- Oh, but you must tell me: I like to know the ins
and outs of every marriage.

_Beni_.-- Listen then: Madhav Babu of Manirampur is a very
quarrelsome sort of person, -- has not even the manners of a
gentleman. He has a reputation amongst Brahmans for orthodoxy,
only gained by making presents to them, but he is an utterly
unscrupulous man. True, he may be able to make handsome presents of
money and other things on the occasion of his daughter's marriage;
but is money the only thing worth taking into consideration
when a marriage is in question?  Surely the first requisite is a
respectable family, and the next a good girl; and then if there
is wealth as well, so much the better, but it does not very much
matter. Now Ram Hari Babu of Kanchrapara is a very excellent
person: he lives cheerfully and contentedly on the income he
derives from his own exertions, and never casts a longing eye on
another man's wealth.  He may not be in very good circumstances,
I allow, but he has always been very careful to have his children
well educated, and the one object of his thoughts has been the
happiness and moral well-being of his family.  To be connected
with such a man as this would be a source of entire happiness.

_Becharam_.-- Baburam Babu, who is the intelligent person who
has recommended this match to you? Avarice will be your ruin
yet. But what right have I to speak? It is after all our social
system that is at fault: whenever the topic of marriage comes to
the front, people always say: "How sir! will you give me a pot
of silver? will you give me a necklace of pearls?" It is only
an idiot who would think of saying; "Look first to see whether
your proposed relation be respectable or not: enquire whether
the girl be a good girl or otherwise."  This is a mere trifle:
if only wealth is to be got, that is everything.

_Bancharam_.-- We want family, we want beauty, and we want
wealth as well: how can a family possibly get on if it professes
to despise wealth?

_Bakreswar_.-- True enough: we must keep up a proper respect
for wealth. What do we get by intercourse with a poor man? Are
our stomachs filled by it?

_Thakchacha [bending down from his chair]_.-- All this talk is
a reflection upon me: it was I that counselled this match. I
would have been ashamed to show my face in the world if I had
not succeeded in getting a girl of noble parentage.  I took
immense pains to ascertain that Madhav Babu of Manirampur was a
good man. Why, he is a man at whose name the tiger and cow might
drink at the same pool together! besides, look at the advantage of
being able to get his _lathials_ whenever we need them in cases
of dispute. Then too everybody connected with the Law-Courts is
under his thumb: there are a thousand ways in which he can be of
assistance to us in any strait. Ram Hari Babu of Kanchrapara on the
other hand, is a feeble sort of person: he makes a very precarious
living: what would have been the good of an arrangement with him?

_Becharam_.-- A fine counsellor you have got Baburam! If you
listen to all such a counsellor has to advise, you are bound to
get to heaven, body and all. And what a son, too, you have! And
so he is actually about to be married? What do you think about
it all, Beni Babu!

_Beni_.-- I think that the man who will first thoroughly educate
his son, and who will take special pains that he shall grow up
thoroughly moral, will be best able to be of assistance to his
son when the time comes that he should marry. Many evils are
likely to arise if a boy is married at an unreasonable age.

On hearing all this, Baburam Babu rose in much irritation and
hurriedly retreated into the inner apartments of the house,
where his wife was engaged in discussing the match with some of
the women of the village.  Going up to her, he informed her of
all that had been said outside, and as he stood there in some
perplexity, inquired: "Cannot we put off Matilall's marriage
for a few days?" His wife replied: "What is this that you are
saying? Plague take our enemies! By divine favour Matilall is now
sixteen: would it look well not to marry him now? If you upset
the arrangements now, the proper season for marriage will slip
away. You surely do not know what you are doing: is the caste of
a good man to be destroyed in this way? Go at once, and take the
bridegroom off with you."

At this advice from his wife, all the master's indecision
disappeared. He at once went outside and gave the order for the
lamps to be lit: the musical instruments all struck up at the
same time, and the English bands began to play. Baburam lifted the
bridegroom into his palanquin, and taking Thakchacha by the hand,
walked by the side, with heavy gait, accompanied by his kinsmen
and near friends. From the roof of the house the boy's mother
gazed down upon her son's face, and the women of the household
called out, "Ah, mother of Mati!  Ah, how beautiful is your
child!" The friends of the bridegroom were all with him: they
amused themselves by taking torches to the rear of the crowd and
setting people alight, and by letting off squibs and fireworks
near the houses and in the thick of the crowd. None of the poor
people ventured to remonstrate, though they were sadly annoyed.

The bridegroom soon reached Manirampur, and got down from the
palanquin. Both sides of the road were crowded with people gazing
at the bridegroom. The women chattered away to each other about
him. "The boy has a certain amount of beauty," said one, "but if
his nose were a bit straighter, he would look better." Another
remarked, "His complexion, fair as it is, would look better
even fairer."

The marriage was to take place at a late hour, but it had not
struck ten when Madhav Babu, taking a _durwan_ with a lantern, came
out to meet the bridegroom and his guests. After he had joined the
marriage procession in the street, nearly half an hour was wasted
in the exchange of compliments, each man wishing to give precedence
to the other. While one said: "Pray sir! precede me!" the other
politely declined: "Nay sir! do you please go first." At last,
Beni Babu of Bally went forward and said: "Please one of you
gentlemen go on ahead. I cannot stand here in the street and catch
cold." An amicable arrangement being at last come to, the whole
company arrived at the house of the bride's father and entered.

The bridegroom took his seat in the assembly. Numbers of roughs
were standing about, ripe for mischief. The distribution of
money to the village, and other subjects, then came up for
discussion. Thakchacha was doing his best, but apparently without
avail, to effect some arrangement for his own profit. A rough
blustering sort of fellow came up to him and said: "Who is this
low Mahomedan? Get out of this! what has a Mahomedan to do with
Hindu concerns?"  Thakchacha was furious, and shaking his head
fiercely, his eyes inflamed with passion, abused the man roundly.

This was the very opportunity Matilall's young friends, Haladhar,
Gadadhar, and the other young Babus, had been longing for. They saw
from the clouds that were gathering that a storm was imminent. One
set to work to tear the carpet into pieces, another to extinguish
the lamps: some set the chandeliers clashing and jingling, while
others threw missiles among the assembled company[23]. Some of the
people of the bride's father, seeing the confusion they were
creating, began to abuse them and strike them with their fists,
and Matilall seeing the quarrel in progress; thought to himself:
"I fancy I am not destined to get married. I may have to return
home after all, with the thread only on my wrist[24]."


CHAPTER XI.  THE POETASTER.

THE pandits of Agarpara were enjoying their usual evening lounge
beneath their favourite tree: they were all either taking snuff
or smoking, coughing and sneezing, chaffing each other and
joking. One of them asked: "How is Vidyaratna? The good Brahman,
in his zeal for gain, has lamed himself going to Manirampur in
response to an invitation. I was concerned to see him leaping on
a stick yesterday as he went to bathe." Vidyabhushan replied:
"Oh!  Vidyaratna is all right again: the pain in his foot has
been considerably alleviated, what with warm lime and turmeric,
and dry fomentations. Come, gentlemen, listen to the poetry
which our friend the great poet Kankan[25] has composed with
special reference to the Manirampur entertainment."

Let the drum beat in triumph, uplift the glad song,
For the guests are assembled, a glittering throng;
In the gay halls of Madhub, as radiantly bright,
As the heaven of Indra, entrancing the sight.
How dazzling the glow that illuminates all,
How brilliant the flowers that engarland the wall!
See, apart sit the friends of the bridegroom and bride,
Retainers in scarlet on every side.
What ravishing melody floats on the air
With perfume of blossoms surpassingly rare!
Be sure, so celestial a scene to array
In Hymen's sweet honour, took many a day.
But the ground is just soaking here under the tent
Where the rain is descending through many a rent.
And these up-country _durwan_, offensively loud,
What business have they to be hustling the crowd?
Discordant the noises that deafen the ear,
And the shouts and the hubbub are awful to hear.
Yet in view of the sweets and the dainties in store,
You'd put up with annoyances double or more.
See those figures in paste on the walls stuck about!
How the pedigree-poets their rhapsodies shout!
Now list to these verses, and publish the fame
Of Konkan, -- the paragon verse-maker's name!
The bridegroom is coming! A silence profound
Is felt for a moment, and plaudits resound.
But the juvenile Babus are eager for fun,
And lo! in a minute the row has begun.
His schemes are miscarrying, Thakchacha fears,
As he listens aghast to the shouts and the jeers.
We too are astounded;-- this banging and crashing!
This rending of carpets and clanging and clashing!
Why, the glass chandeliers they are wantonly smashing!
We'd better be off, we are in for a thrashing!
In wonder sits Mati, revolving the thought,
"It seems my investiture's profiting nought!"
"The scoundrel Bakreshwar!" uprises a shout,
"Give him a caning and hustle him out!"
And Bancharam also, the schemer profound,
Is wriggling in torture and howls on the ground.
Says Becharam hastily, "Here, come aside;
Things do not look promising: where shall we hide?"
And carries off Beni, bereft of resource.
While ever the tumult increases in force.
"Help, help!" holloas Baburam, much in alarm,
For support round a pillar entwining his arm.
Ho, speed to the rescue Thakchacha the brave!
But to keep a whole skin's the one thought of the knave!
Whom, with head muffled up as he gingerly goes,
They arrest as chief culprit, and hurl on his nose,
And roll in the dust till his eyes are of sand full,
And tear out the hair of his head by the handful.
Hear "_Tauba_!" and "_Tauba_!" the Mussulman yell!
"Of my sins I repent, on the border of hell!
"But I'd nothing whatever to do with it, no!
"An innocent Moslem, -- why badger him so?
"Bismillah! alack! To appear on the scene
"Such an outrage to suffer, was folly I ween!
"Among the mild Hindus I guilelessly came
"From the parent of motives; and this is their game!
"Ah fool! the advice of thy friends to despise,
"At the cost of thy beauty, thy beard, and thine eyes!"
Now enter the _durwans_ athirst for the fray,
And round them their _lathis_ impartially lay;
Then howls of excitement and terror and pain,
The crack of the truncheon and swish of the cane!
The friends of the bridegroom and those of the bride
Are scuttling in terror on every side:
Within flies the bridegroom, the company's scattered,
And all the gay trappings of Hymen are shattered.
"Thakchacha still here!" some enthusiast shouts,
"Pour mud on his turban and tear off his clouts!"
In dishonour poor Baburam slinks from the hall
And all his brave show goes for nothing at all.
His costume's in tatters within and without,
And shawlless and shoeless he stumbles about,
Distractedly moaning:-- "How hard is my case
"Whom death from exposure now stares in the face!
"The oncoming tempest I hear from afar:
"'Tis the progress triumphal of Death on his car!
"Thus helpless and sole, not a creature to aid,
"Can his dire visitation be longer delayed?
"I am bruised and exhausted, and breath I have none:
"The Fates are against me! O what have I done?
"And my pitiful lot, if it reaches the ear
"Of the wife of my bosom, will kill her, I fear.
"Did the marriage come off I'm unable to tell!
"From a blow on the cranium unconscious I fell.
"These schemes matrimonial dictated by vanity
"Have landed me here on the verge of insanity!
Thus loudly bewailing, a cottage he spies.
Where no cruel warder an access denies.
And there in a corner, alone, on a mat,
Monumental in misery, -- Thakchacha sat!
"Ah traitor and craven, 'twas cruelly done,
"Thy comrade deserting, thou treacherous one!
"O frailty of mortals! how falleth the best,
"When the touchstone of peril puts love to the test!"
"Hush, check your emotion!" his champion replies,
"For where are we safe from our enemies spies?
"You'll own, when you've heard me,-- my confident trust is --
"You've done your protector a grievous injustice!
'Tis daybreak, as homeward they ruefully wend,
And Konkan his epic thus brings to an end.

On hearing this lampoon upon Baburam Babu, Tarkavagish was furious,
and exclaimed: "Ha, ha! this is poetry indeed! Sarasvati in the
flesh! Kalidas come to life again! What profound learning too
has the great poet Konkan displayed! So precocious a boy cannot
possibly live long. The metre too, -- astounding, -- never
heard anything like it, -- it runs like a nursery rhyme! Now a
man who is a Brahman and a pandit to boot will always speak good
of a rich man: there is nothing gentlemanly in mere abuse." With
these words, he got up in a rage, and would have left the place,
but the assembled pandits expressed their full approval of his
words, and urging him to stop and be calm, got him at last by
sheer force to sit down again. Another pandit then skilfully
introduced other topics, and ignoring what had passed began to
sing the praises of Baburam Babu and Madhab Babu. A Brahman,
being generally rather dense, cannot easily see when a joke is
intended: through constant study of the _Shástras_, his mind
moves solely in the region of the _Shástras_ and has no practice
in worldly matters. Tarkavagish however was soon mollified and
amused himself with the subject in hand.


CHAPTER XII.  BARADA BABU.

BECHARAM BABU of Bow Bazar was sitting in his reception-hall, and
with him were a few persons singing snatches of songs. The Babu
was himself selecting the different subjects, and his selection was
a sufficiently varied one: the verses were being sung to the most
popular tunes. Many people in the exuberance of their enthusiasm
would have rolled about on the floor on hearing such ravishing
strains, but Becharam Babu sat there as stolid as a painted
marionette. Beni Babu of Bally arrived while the music was still
in progress, and Becharam Babu at once stopped it, and said to his
guest: "Ah! Beni, my friend! what, are you still alive? Baburam
is still nursing his wrath; it is like fire smouldering amid burnt
rags. He absolutely refuses to bid pacified.  Some unpleasantness
was bound to arise out of the affair of Manirampur: it has been
an experience for us. It is commonly reported that the family has
a bitter enemy, and that he went as one of the bridegroom's party."

_Beni_.-- Speak to me no more on the subject of Baburam Babu: the
whole affair has annoyed me extremely. I should like to get away
altogether and give up my house at Bally: the old Sanscrit saying
occurs to me, "What else may not destiny have in store for me?"

_Becharam_.-- Well, such is the way things are going with Baburam:
what else can you expect from such a man, with such a counsellor,
such companions, and such a son? Yet his younger son is a good boy:
how is that? He is the lotus flower on the dung-heap.

_Beni_.-- You may well ask that: it is indeed extraordinary,
but there is a reason for it. You may perhaps remember my having
told you some time back about Babu Barada Prosad Biswas. Well,
for some time past that gentleman has been living at Vaidyabati. I
had been thinking a good deal on the subject, and I saw that if
Baburam Babu's youngest son, Ramlall, grew up like Matilall,
the family would very soon become extinct, but that here was
an excellent opportunity for the boy to learn to grow up a good
man. I considered the matter well, and went to the gentleman I
have mentioned, taking Ramlall with me. The boy has ever since
then exhibited such an extraordinary affection for Biswas Babu
that he is constantly at his side: he is very rarely at home,
for he regards Biswas Babu as a father.

_Becharam_.-- You did, it is true, once relate to me all the
virtues of this Biswas Babu, but, to tell you the truth, I have
never heard of a single individual possessed of so many virtues
before: how is it, that now he has attained to so good a position,
he is so modest, and unpretending?

_Beni_.-- It is generally very difficult for a man to be
humble and unassuming who has been accustomed to wealth from
his boyhood, and who has never encountered adversity, but gone
on steadily piling up riches. A man like this has, as a rule,
no perception of the feelings of others: I mean by that, he has
no idea what is pleasing or what is distasteful to others, for
his thoughts are centred in himself: he considers himself a great
man, and his people all encourage him in the idea by extolling
his magnificence. Under these conditions pride reaches a fearful
height: modesty and kindliness can never take firm root in such
soil. It is on this account that in Calcutta the sons of rich men
so rarely turn out well. Puffed up by their father's wealth on the
one hand or their own position on the other, they swagger through
life, treating all men with contempt and derision. It is calamity
and misfortune that alone avail to strengthen man's mind. The
first requisite of man is humility: that quality absent, a man has
no chance of either discerning aright or correcting his faults,
and without humility he cannot advance in virtue and in worth.

_Becharam_.-- How was it that Barada Babu became so good?

_Beni_.-- Barada Babu fell into trouble in his earliest boyhood,
and from that time he used to meditate unceasingly on the Almighty:
the result of this constant meditation was that he became firmly
convinced that it was his bounden duty to do everything that was
pleasing to God, and to avoid what was displeasing to Him even
though life were at stake: this conviction he proceeded to carry
into practice.

_Becharam_.-- How did he settle with himself what was pleasing
and what displeasing to the Almighty?

_Beni_.-- There are two ways of attaining to knowledge, on
this subject. First, the mind must be brought under control:
to effect this, constant meditation and the steady growth of
good principles are necessary. A searching self-examination, a
course of severe and steady meditation, may develop the faculty
of discrimination between right tad wrong; and in proportion as
that faculty is developed, a man will become averse to conduct
that is displeasing to the Almighty, and attached to a course
that is pleasing to Him. In the second place that faculty may
be steadily exercised by reading and reflecting on what good
men have written. Barada Babu has left nothing undone that can
help to make him good. He has never wandered aimlessly about like
ordinary people.  When he rises in the morning, he always offers
up his prayers to God, and the tears in his eyes show the feelings
that rise up in his mind at the time. He then calmly examines his
conduct most searchingly, to see whether it has been good or bad.
He never prides himself upon his good qualities, but is exceedingly
distressed if he detects the very slightest fault in himself. He
takes great delight in hearing of the good qualities of others, but
he only expresses his sorrow after brotherly manner when he hears
of their faults. By such assiduous practice it is that his mind
has become pure and serene. Is there anything astonishing in the
fact that a man should thus grow in virtue who so subdues his mind?

_Becharam_.-- Ah, Beni my friend, it is most refreshing to hear
of such people as Barada Babu! I must have an interview with a
man like this, if only for once. How does he spend his days?

_Beni_.-- He is engaged in business most of the day, but he is
not like other people. Most men who are engaged in business think
solely of position or wealth: he does not think so much of these
things: he knows well that wealth and position are but as a drop
of water: they may be pleasant to see, pleasant to hear of, but
they do not accompany a man beyond the grave: nay, unless a man
walks with great circumspection, they may both generate in him
an evil disposition. His chief object in engaging in business is
to get the means of exercising and putting to the test his own
virtues. In a business career, bad qualities such as avarice,
ill-will, and want of principle, are brought into prominence, and
it is by the onslaught of such enemies that men are ruined. On
the other hand, the truly virtuous man is the man who proceeds
with circumspection. To talk of virtue in the abstract is an easy
thing enough, but unless a man gives an illustration of it in, his
own conduct, his words are a sham. Barada Babu is always saying
that the world resembles a school. Genuine virtue is the outcome
of a thorough discipline of the mind in the business of life.

_Becharam_.-- Surely Barada Babu does not regard wealth as a
thing of no account?

_Beni_.-- No, not at all; he by no means considers wealth
despicable, but virtue comes first in his estimation. Wealth is
only of secondary importance; that is to say, in the acquisition
of wealth, due regard must be paid to the maintenance of virtue.

_Becharam_.-- What does Barada Babu do with himself in the
evenings?

_Beni_.-- When once the evening has set in, he spends his time
in profitable conversation with his family, and in reading or
listening to their talk. The members of his family all try to
follow his example, observing the excellence of his character. He
is so attached to his family that the heartfelt prayer of his wife
is that she may have such another husband in all her births: if
they lose sight of him even for a moment, his children fret with
impatience. Barada Babu's daughters are as good as his sons. While
in many homes brothers and sisters are continually grumbling and
quarrelling with each other, Barada Babu's children never exchange
high words: always, whether at their lessons, or at their meals,
they converse affectionately together; and they are very unhappy
if their parents are at all ailing.

_Becharam_.-- I have heard that Barada Babu is always about in
the village.

_Beni_.-- That is quite true. Whenever he hears of any one being
in trouble, or in misfortune, or sick, he cannot remain quiet at
home. He assists many of his neighbours in manifold ways, but he
never even hints it to any one: when lie has done a kindness to
another, he considers himself the person benefited.

_Becharam_.-- Ah, friend Beni, my eyes have never looked on
such a man, much less have I ever heard him with my ears! Why,
association with such a character would make even an old man good,
much more help a young boy to grow up virtuous. Ah, my friend! it
will indeed be a gratifying thing if the younger son of Baburam
manages to grow up a good man.


CHAPTER XIII.  BARADA BABU'S PUPIL.

BARADA Babu had an extraordinary and unusual knowledge of
educational methods.  He had special acquaintance with all
the different faculties and emotions of the mind, and with the
methods whereby men may become intelligent and virtuous by the
proper exercise of them. A teacher's work is no light one:
there are many who have but a mere smattering of knowledge,
and take up teaching just from want of other occupation; good
instruction cannot be expected from men of this type. To be a
genuine teacher, a man must be thoroughly acquainted with the
whole tendency of the mind and all its energies; and he must by
calm and patient observation discover and learn the best way to
become a really practical guide of youth. To teach in a haphazard
fashion, without doing something of this kind, is like striking a
stone with a _kodáli_; it may fall on the stone a hundred times,
but not a handful of soil will it cut. Now Barada Babu was a man
of great acuteness and shrewd observation: he had so long paid
special attention to the subject of education that he was well
versed in the best methods of instruction: and the learning that
was imparted according his system was really solid. As education
is now in Government schools, its real end is not attained, for
the reason that nothing is done for the harmonious development of
the faculties of the mind and the emotions. The scholars learn
everything by heart, and consequently memory alone is awakened:
the faculty of thought and reflection generally lies dormant,
and the idea of bringing the different activities of the mind
into play seems not to exist. The chief end of education being
to develop the mental powers and qualities harmoniously with the
gradual growth of the scholar, one faculty should not be abnormally
exerted at the expense of another. Just as the body gets compact
and grows well-knit by an harmonious exercise of all the limbs,
so the mind is strengthened and the intelligence developed by
an harmonious exercise of the sum total of their energies. All
the moral qualities likewise should be simultaneously elicited:
because one may be brought into play it does not follow that all
will be.  Reverence for truth, for instance, may be developed,
without a single particle of kindliness: a man may have a large
element of kindliness in his nature, but no practical knowledge
of the business of life. Again, he may be perfectly honest in his
business relations, and yet display indifference or absolute want
of affection for his father, mother, wife and children; or he may
be all that is proper in his domestic relations, but wanting in
uprightness in his business affairs. Barada Babu was well aware in
fact, that faith in God was the foundation of the due development
and exercise of the qualities of the mind, and that they could
only be duly developed in proportion as that faith increased;
for otherwise the task was as futile as trying to write on water.

Most fortunately for him, Ramlall had become Barada Babu's pupil,
and all his faculties were being harmoniously developed and
exercised. Association with a good man is a far more potent factor
in developing moral qualities than mere instruction; indeed by such
intercourse a mind may be as completely transformed as a branch of
the wild plum grafted on to a mango tree. So great is the majesty
of a really noble character that even its shadow falling on one
that is base and corrupt raises it in time to its own image. By
association with Barada Babu the mind of Ramlail became almost
a complete reflection of his. With the object of making himself
strong, as soon as he rose in the morning, he would take a stroll
in the open air; for strength of mind he knew could not exist
without strength of body: after his walk, he would return home
and engage in prayer and meditation. The only books he read were
those the perusal of which promoted the growth of intelligence
and good character, and the only persons he conversed with were
those whose conversation had the same effect. On merely hearing
the name of any good person, he would go and visit him, making
no enquiries about his caste or condition in life. So keen was
his intelligence that in conversation with anyone he would speak
only on matters of real moment: he had no taste for gossip. If
anybody spoke on subjects of but trifling importance, he succeeded
by force of his intelligence in extracting the pith of the matter,
as a fruit-extractor the pulp of the fruit. The steady growth of
faith in God, of morality, and of a good understanding formed the
burden of his meditations. By such consistent conduct as this,
his disposition, his character and his whole conduct became more
and more worthy of commendation.

Goodness can never be hid. The people in the village would say to
each other: "Ah, Ramlall is the Prahlad of a family of Daityas[26]."
In all their griefs and misfortunes he was ever to the front with
his help. He did all he could think of to assist any in need of
help, by his personal exertions on their behalf, whether with his
purse or with his understanding. Old and young, they were all known
to Ramlail, and were all his friends. If they heard him abused,
it was as though a dart had pierced their ears; if they heard him
praised, great was the rejoicing. The old women of the village would
say to each other: "If we had such a child we should never let him
out of our sight. Oh, what a store of merit must his mother have
laid up to have got a son like this!" The young women, observing
Ramlall's beauty and good qualities, exclaimed in their hearts:
"God grant that such a husband may fall to our lot!"

Ramlall's good disposition and character were manifested in
manifold ways, both at home and abroad. He never failed in any
single particular of his duty towards each member of his home
circle. His father, observing him, thought to himself;-- "Ah, my
younger son is becoming lax in his observances of Hindu religious
customs! he does not keep the sacred mark on his forehead, nor
use the customary vessels at his prayers, nor even the beads
for the repetition of the sacred name of _Hori_[27]: and yet he
does perform his devotions after his own manner, and is not addicted
to vice. We may tell any number of lies: the boy, on the contrary,
knows nothing but the truth. He is most devoted to his parents,
yet never consents to what he thinks wrong, even at our urgent
request. Now I find a good deal of duplicity necessary in my
business: both truth and falsehood are requisite. How otherwise
could I keep up the great festivals that I have constantly to
be celebrating in my house, the Dol Jatra, the Durga Pujah and
others? Now Matilall may be a wicked boy, but he keeps up his
Hindu observances; besides, after all, I do not think he is so
very bad; he is young yet, he must sow his wild oats." Ramlall's
mother and sisters were deeply affected by his many good qualities:
they rejoiced with the joy of those who out of dense darkness see
light. Matilall's evil behaviour had had a most distressing effect
upon them: bowed down as they had been in shame at the evil reports
they heard of him, they had known little ease of mind. Now again
there was in their hearts, because of Ramlall's good qualities,
and their faces were lighted up with joy.  At one time all the
men-servants and maid-servants of the house, getting only abuse
or blows from Matilall, had been in terror of their lives: now,
softened by Ramlall's gentle address and kind treatment, they paid
all the greater attention to their work.

When Matilall and his companions, Haladhar and Gadadhar, saw this
behaviour of Ramlall, they remarked to each other that the boy
had gone silly,-- must be cracked,-- and said to the master
of the house: "This brat should certainly be sent to a lunatic
asylum: he is a mere child, yet his sole talk day and night is of
virtue: it is disgusting to hear an old man's words in the mouth
of a child." Others of Matilall's companions would occasionally
say:-- "Mati Babu, you are in luck's way: things don't look
promising for Ramlall: he will soon come to grief if he makes a
parade of virtue like this: you will then get all the property,
and there will be no obstacle to your complete enjoyment. Even if
he does live, he will be little better than an idiot. But what
can you expect? what says the proverb? 'As the teacher so the
taught.' Could he find no other master in this wide world that
he must get hold of some _mantras_ from an Eastern Bengalee,
and go wandering about parading his virtue before the world?
If he does this much more, we will send him and his teacher about
their business. The canting humbug! he goes about saying: 'Ah,
how happy I should be if my elder brother were to give up the
society of his evil companions!' 'Ah, if my elder brother were
only to frequent the society of Barada Babu, what a good thing it
should be!' Ha ha! Barada Babu indeed,-- the dismal old blockhead,
a very prince of prigs. Look out, Mati Babu: take care that you
do not after all get under his influence and go to him? What,
are we to go to school again? If he wishes, let him come to us
and be taught: we are very hard up for a little amusement."

Thakchacha was always hearing about Ramlall, and he began to
think the matter over: the one aim of his life was to find a
favourable opportunity for making a successful swoop or two
on Baburam Babu's property. So far, most of the suits-at-law
had ended disastrously, and he had had no opportunity for such a
stroke: yet he never failed to keep on baiting his ground before
casting his nets. Ramlall however having become what he was,
he could not expect any fish to fall into his net, for however
skilfully it might be cast the boy would advise his father
not to enter it. Thakchacha saw then that a great obstacle had
presented itself in his way and he thus reflected: "The moon
of hope must have sunk behind a cloud of despair, for it is no
longer visible." After profound deliberation, he observed one day
to his employer; -- "Babu Saheb, your youngest son's behaviour
has made me very anxious: I do not think he can be quite right
in his mind. He is always angry with me and tells everybody that
I have corrupted you: my heart is wounded when I hear this. Ah,
Babu Saheb! this is not as it should be: if he speaks like this to
me, he may one day speak harshly to you. The boy will doubtless
become good and gentle in time, but now he is boorish and rude,
and must be corrected; besides, so far as I can judge, you may
lose all your property if this course is allowed." A casual remark
may very easily disturb the mind of a man who is naturally rather
dense. As a boat in the hands of an unskilful steersman is tossed
about in a storm, unable to make the shore, so a dull-gritted man
is in almost constant perplexity, seeing only chaos around him: he
can himself come to no decision on the merits of any subject. For
one thing, poor Baburam Babu was naturally rather thick-headed, and
for another, Thakchacha's words were to him as the sacred Vedas:
so he stood stupidly gazing about like a man in a maze, and after
a while asked Thakchacha what plan he could suggest. That astute
individual replied: "Your boy, sir, is not a wicked boy: it is
Barada Babu that is the origin of all the mischief.  Only get him
out of the way, and the boy will be all right. Ah, Babu Saheb! the
son of a Hindu should observe all the ordinances of his religion as
a Hindu. A man has need of both good and bad qualities if he is to
engage in the business of this life: the world is not all honest:
what use would it be to me if I were the only upright man in it?"

Men always regard with approval, as the opinion of a really
great mind, language that is in keeping with their own convictions.
Thakchacha was well aware that he had only to talk about the
observance of Hindu ceremonial, and the preservation of property,
and his aim would be accomplished; and, as a matter of fact, it was
by such talk that he achieved his end. When Baburam heard the advice
Thakchacha gave, he acquiesced at once in it, remarking: "If this is
your opinion, finish the matter off at once: I will supply you with
any money you may want, but you must work out the plan yourself."

There was a good deal of discussion of this kind about Ramlall.
"Many sages, many saws," says the proverb. Some said: "The boy is
good in this respect:" others would reply: "But not good in this."
One critic complained: "He is deficient in one important quality,
which makes all his other excellences go for nothing, just as when
a speck of cow-dung has fallen into a vessel of milk, the whole is
tainted." Another retorted: "The boy is perfect."

Thus time went on. At last it chanced that Baburam Babu's eldest
daughter fell dangerously ill. Her parents called in a number
of physicians to see her.  Matilall, needless to say, never once
came near his sister, but went about saying that a speedy death
was preferable to the life of a widow in a rich man's house; and
during the time of her illness, he only indulged himself the more.
Ramlall on the other hand was unremitting in his attention:
foregoing both food and sleep, and full of anxious thought, he
exerted himself to the utmost for the girl's recovery. But she did
not recover, and as she was dying she put her hand on her younger
brother's head, saying: "Ah, brother Ram! if I die, and am born
a girl in my next birth, God grant that I may have a brother like
you. I cannot tell you what you have done for me. God make you as
happy as you wish." With these words, his sister breathed her last.


CHAPTER XIV.  THE FALSE CHARGE.

BOYS who are at all wild are not to be satisfied with ordinary
amusements: they constantly require new and fresh sources of
pleasure, and if they do not find what they want abroad, they
will return and sit in melancholy brooding at home. Those that
have uncles at home perhaps recover their lost spirits, for they
can chaff and joke with them to their heart's content: they will
at least go so far as to jest about making arrangements for their
last journey to the Ganges, on the ground that they are a burden
to the family. But when such is not the case, they are bored to
death, and regard the world with the eyes of a man who is sick
of life[28]. Passionately devoted as they were to practical joking
of all kinds, Matilall and his companions invented ever new pranks,
and it was hard to foretell what would be their next. Their thirst
for some form of amusement became more intense every day: one kind
might occupy them for a day or two, but it soon palled upon them,
and they suffered torments of _ennui_ if nothing else turned
up. Such was the way in which Matilall and his companions spent
their days. In course of time, it became incumbent on each of them
in turn to devise something new in the way of amusement.

So one day Haladhar wrapped Dolgovinda up in a quilt and, after
instructing all his chums in their different parts, repaired to the
house of Brojonath, the _kabiraj_. It was thick with smoke from
the preparation of drugs: different operations were in progress:
powders were being prepared, made up of a number of different
ingredients; essential oils were being refined, and gold ground
into powder. The kabiraj himself was just on the point of leaving
his house, with a box of his drugs in one hand and a bottle of
oil in the other, when Haladhar arrived and said to him: "Oh,
sir, please come as quick as you can: a boy is very ill of fever
in the house of a zemindar, and he seems to be in a very critical
state: his life and your fame, you see, are both at stake: you
will get undying honour if you restore him to health again. It is
thought that he may get all right by the administration of some
very powerful drug: if you can succeed in curing him, you will
be richly rewarded." Upon this, the _kabiraj_ made all haste,
and was soon at the bedside of the patient.

The young Babus, who were all present, called out: "Welcome,
welcome, sir _kabiraj_, may you revive us all! Dolgovinda has been
lying on his bed some fifteen days with this fever: his temperature
is very high, and he puffers from terrible thirst: he gets no
sleep at night, only tosses restlessly about.  Please examine his
pulse carefully, sir, and meanwhile refresh yourself by having
a smoke." Brojonath was a very old man, without much education:
he was not very skilful even at his own trade, had no opinions
of his own, and could do nothing on his own responsibility. In
person he was emaciated, with no teeth, a harsh voice, and a
heavy grey moustache, of which he was so enamoured that he was
always stroking it. He sighed as he looked at the patient's
hand, and sat perfectly motionless. Haladhar then said to him:
"Honoured sir, have you nothing to say?" The _kabiraj_ without
replying gazed intently on the face of the patient, who was
glaring wildly about him, lolling his tongue out, and grinding
his teeth. He also gave a tug at the _kabiraj's_ moustache: and
as he moved away a little, the boy rolled about and straggled to
get hold of the bottle of oil in his hand. The Babus then said:
"Come tell us, sir, what is the matter?" The _kabiraj_ replied:
"The attack is a very severe one: there seems to be high fever
and delirium. If I had only had news a little earlier, I might
have managed to cure him: as it is, it would be impossible
even for Shiva to do so." As he spoke, the patient got hold
of his bottle of oil, and rubbed a good handful of it over his
body. The _kabiraj_ seeing the visit was likely to cost him
dear[29], hurriedly took the bottle away, corked it well, and got
up to go.  "Where are you going, sir?" They all cried. The _kabiraj_
replied: "The delirium is gradually increasing: I do not think there
is any further necessity for keeping the patient in the house: you
should now exert yourselves to make his end a happy one by taking
him to the Ganges to die[30]."

As soon as he heard this, the patient jumped up, and the _kabiraj_
started back at the sight. The young Babus of Vaidyabati ran after
him, and as the _kabiraj_, who had gone on a short distance,
stopped dumbfounded and amazed, they began to hustle him, with
shouts of "_Hori Bol: Hori Bol:_" and one of them threw him over
his shoulders, and started for the Ganges. Dolgovinda then came
up to him, and said: "Aha my dear sir, you gave orders to have
the patient taken to the Ganges: the doctor himself it is who is
now being carried thither! I will myself perform the ceremony of
putting you into the water, and of then throwing you on to the
funeral pyre." The views of the fickle are ever changing, and so
a little later he said: "Will you send me to the Ganges again? Go,
my dear friend! go to your home, and to your children, but before
you go, you must give me that bottle of oil." With these words,
he snatched the bottle from the _kabiraj_, and all the young
lunatics, smearing themselves over with the oil, leaped into the
Ganges. The _kabiraj_ became as one bereft of his senses when he
saw all this, and thinking that he might breathe again if he could
only get away, he increased his pace. Thereupon Haladhar, as he was
swimming about, screamed out: "Ho there, respected _kabiraj_! I am
getting more and more bilious every day: you must give me some of
your powders to take: do not run away: if you do, your wife will
have to remove her bracelet and be a widow."  The _kabiraj_ threw
down his box of drugs, and hurried home crying, "Alas!  alas!"

In the month of Phalgun, as spring comes in, all the trees
are coming out in new leaf, and the sweet odour of flowers is
diffused around. Barada Babu's dwelling-house was on the banks of
the Ganges: some little distance in front of it was his favourite
garden-house, and all round it a garden. Barada Babu used to sit
every evening in the garden-house, to enjoy the fresh air and
his own meditations, or to converse with any friends who might
visit him there.  Ramlall was always with him, and was made the
confidant of his most secret thoughts, whereby he obtained much
good advice. At every opportunity, he would question his preceptor
minutely on the means of attaining to a knowledge of the Supreme
Being, and to perfect purity of mind.

One day Ramlall remarked to Barada Babu: "Sir, I have a great
longing to travel: staying here, it is a constant grief to me
to listen to the bad language of my elder brother and the evil
counsel of Thakchacha, but my love for my parents and for my
sister makes me disinclined to stir from home. I cannot decide
what to do." Barada Babu replied;-- "Much benefit is to be
derived from travel: breadth of vision is not to be had without
it: the mind is enlarged by the sight of different countries,
and different people. Much knowledge too is acquired by a minute
enquiry into the different customs of the people of different
countries, into their habits, and the causes determining their
condition, whether good or bad. Association moreover with all
sorts of people, causes bitter prejudices to disappear and induces
good feeling. If a man is educated only at home, his knowledge is
derived from books only. Now education, association with good men,
practical employment, and intercourse with all sorts of people,
are all necessary to a man: it is by agencies such as this that
the understanding becomes clear, and an impetus is given towards
the moulding of a good character. But before he sets out on his
travels, it is all important that a man should know the different
matters he will require to investigate, for without this, travel
will prove a mere aimless wandering about, like the circling round
and round of an ox when threshing out the grain.  I do not go so
far as to say that no benefit is to be had from such travelling,
that is not my meaning: some benefit or other there must be. But
when a man on his travels is ignorant of the kind of enquiries he
ought to make, and cannot make them, he does not derive the full
benefit of his labour. Many Bengalees are fond of travelling about,
but if you ask them for facts about the places they visit, how many
of them can give you a sensible answer? This is not altogether
their own fault, it is the result of their bringing-up. A
good understanding is not to be had all at once from the sky,
without some training in the art of observation, enquiry and
reflection. In the education of children it is requisite that
an opportunity should be given them of seeing models of a great
variety of objects: as they look at all the pictures, they will
compare one with another: that is to say, they will see that one
object has a hand, another has no foot, that one has a peculiar
mouth, another no tail; and by such comparison the faculties
of observation and reflection will be brought into play and
developed. After a time such comparisons will come easy to them;
they will be able to reflect on the causes for the peculiarities
of different objects, and will have no difficulty in perceiving
the various classes into which they naturally fall. By instruction
of this kind, assiduity in research is encouraged and the faculty
of reasoning exercised. But in our country an education like this
is hardly ever given, and as a natural consequence, our wits are
muddled and run to waste: we have no instinctive perception of
the essential and unessential features of any enquiry. When a
question is under consideration, many of us have not even the
requisite intelligence to know what kind of enquiries should be
made in order that a conclusion may be arrived at; and it is no
falsehood to say that the travels of a good many people are but
idle and profitless. But considering the education you have had,
I should imagine that travel would be of great advantage to you."

"Now if I do go abroad" said Ramlall, "I shall have to stay for
some time in places where there is society: and with what classes,
and with what kinds of people, should I chiefly associate?"

"That is no easy question," Barada Babu replied: "I must contrive
though to give you some kind of an answer. In every rank in life
there are people good and bad: any good people you may come across
you may associate with; but you know by now how to recognise such:
I need not tell you again. Association with Englishmen may make
a man courageous, for they worship courage, and any Englishman
committing a cowardly act is not admitted into good society. But it
does not at all follow that a man is therefore virtuous because he
happens to be courageous. Courage is very essential to everybody,
I admit; but real courage is that which is the outcome of virtue. I
have told you already and now tell you again, that you must always
meditate on the Supreme Being, otherwise all that you see, or hear,
or learn, will only have the effect of increasing your pride. One
thing more: men often wish to do what they see others doing;
the Bengalees especially, from association with Englishmen, have
acquired a false superficial kind of Anglicism, and are filled
with self-conceit in consequence; pride is the motive force in
all they do. It will do you no harm to remember this."

They were conversing together in this way when suddenly some
police-officers rushed in from the west side of the garden and
surrounded Barada Babu. He looked at them sharply, and asked them
who they were and what their business with him was. They replied:
"We are officers connected with the police: there is a warrant out
against you on the charge of illegal confinement and assault, and
you will have to appear before the Court of the English Magistrate
of Hooghly; we shall have moreover to search your premises for
proofs of the charge." Ramlall rose up at these words, and when
he had read the warrant, he shook with rage at the falsity of the
charge, Barada Babu took his hand and made him sit down again,
saying: "Do not put yourself out: let the matter be thoroughly
well sifted. All sorts of strange accidents befall us on earth,
but there is no need to be disturbed in mind at all when calamity
comes: to be agitated in the presence of misfortune is the mark of
an ignorant mind.  Besides, I am conscious of my entire innocence
of the crime I am accused of: what cause then have for fear? Still
the order of the court must be attended to, so I shall put in an
immediate appearance. Let the officers search my house, and see
with their own eyes that there is no one concealed there." The
police-officers having received this order, searched everywhere
but found nothing. Barada Babu then had a boat fetched, and made
all his arrangements for his journey to Hooghly. Meanwhile by some
good chance Beni Babu arrived at his house, so he set out on his
journey to Hooghly, taking Beni and Ramlall with him. Both were
somewhat anxious, but by his cheerful conversation on a variety
of topics, he soon put them at their ease.


CHAPTER XV.  TRIAL OF BARADA BABU.

THE court of the magistrate of Hooghly was crowded. The defendants
in the different suits pending, the complainants, witnesses,
prisoners, pleaders and officers were all present. The majority
were restless and impatient, anxiously awaiting the arrival of
the magistrate, but he was not yet even in sight.  Barada Babu,
taking Beni Babu and Ramlall with him, spread a blanket underneath
a tree, and sat down. Some of the clerks of the court who were
near, came up to him and began to talk significantly about coming
to an arrangement, but Barada Babu refused to pay any heed to
them. Then, with the view of exciting his fears, they observed:
"The magistrate's orders are very severe; but everything is left
to us, and we can do exactly what we think fit: it is our business
to draw up the depositions, so we can upset everything by a mere
stroke of the pen; but we must have money. An investigation
will have to be made, and this is the time it should be done:
our best efforts, will be useless when the orders in the case
have once been passed." Ramlall on hearing all this was a little
alarmed, but Barada Babu replied quite fearlessly: "Gentlemen,
you must do whatever is your duty. I will never consent to give
a bribe. I am perfectly innocent and have no fears." The clerks
of the court went off to their places in high wrath.

Presently some pleaders came up and said to him: "We perceive,
sir, that you are a very respectable man, and have evidently
fallen into some trouble; but you must take care that your case is
not lost for want of proper investigation.  If you wish to have
witnesses prepared, we can supply you with some on the spot:
we have every facility for doing so at a trifling expense. The
magistrate will be here directly, so seize this opportunity
to do what is necessary."  Barada Babu answered: "Gentlemen,
you are extremely kind; but even should I have to wear fetters,
I will wear them. I shall not be much troubled in mind at that:
it will be a disgrace, I know,-- I am ready to acknowledge it as
such; but I will not walk in the way of falsehood even to save
my life." "Good heavens!" they exclaimed ironically, "here is a
man belonging to the Golden Age. Surely King Yudhishthira come
to life again!" and they went away laughing quietly to themselves.

It was now past two o'clock and still there was no sign of the
magistrate: all were looking out for him as intently as crows on a
sacred _ghât_. Some among them said to a Brahman astrologer who was
present: "Pray sir, calculate for us whether the magistrate will
come to-day or not." The astrologer at once replied: "Come, tell
me the name of some flower." Somebody mentioned an _hibiscus_. The
astrologer, calculating on his fingers, said, "No, the magistrate
will not come to-day: he has business at home." Believing the
charlatan's words implicitly, they all made preparations to tie up
their bundles of records, and got up, saying to each other: "Ah,
_Ram, Ram_! now we breathe freely again, let us go home and sleep."

Thakchacha had been sitting with four others within the court
enclosure, with a bundle of papers under his arm and a cloth over
his face: he was now walking about, his eyes blinking restlessly,
his beard waving in the breeze and his head bent low. Just then
Ramlall's gaze fell on him and he remarked to Barada Babu and Beni
Babu: "See, see! Thakchacha is here! I fancy he is at the bottom of
all this, otherwise why should he turn away his head when he saw
me?" Barada Babu, raising his head, saw him and said, "I think
so too; he is looking sideways in our direction, and moreover
whenever his gaze falls on my face he turns and says something to
his companions: it seems to me that Thakchacha is our evil genius;
as the proverb has it, 'he is the spirit in the _sirish_ seed[31].'"

Beni Babu was never seen without a smile on his face: his pleasantry
was of great service to him in his search for information. He could
not refrain from shouting out the name of Thakchacha, but none of
his shouts were attended to.  Thakchacha had drawn a paper from
under his arm and was to all appearance busily examining it: he
pretended not to hear and did not even raise his head.  Thereupon
Beni Babu went up to him, and with his characteristic gesture said
to him: "Hallo, what is the matter? What has brought you here?"
Thakchacha said nothing, only examined his paper minutely; indeed
he seemed to be seized with a sudden fit of modesty. But as he
must, he thought, put Beni Babu off somehow or other without
answering his question, he replied: "Ha, Babu! The river has risen
a good deal to-day, how will you get back? I might as well ask you
too why you are here, and why you keep on asking me the same thing.
I have a good deal of business on hand just now and my time is
short: I will speak with you later on: I will return directly."
With these words, Thakchacha slipped away, and was soon apparently
engrossed in some trifling conversation with his companions.

Three o'clock struck: everybody was walking about impatiently.
There is no chance of getting business promptly attended to in
the Mofussil, and people get utterly weary of hanging about the
courts. They were just breaking up when suddenly the magistrate's
carriage was heard approaching. Shouts were at once raised:
"The Saheb is coming! The Saheb is coming!" The astrologer looked
utterly crestfallen, and people began to say to him: "Your honour's
calculations are somewhat amazing." "Ah!" replied he, "it must
be owing to something pungent that I have eaten to-day that my
calculations have been so upset." The clerks of the court were
all standing in their places, and directly the magistrate entered
they all bent their heads low to the ground and salaamed to him.

The magistrate took his seat on the bench whistling casually. His
_hooka_ bearer brought him his _hooka_: he put his feet up on
the table, and lying back in his chair, pulled away contentedly,
now and then drawing out his handkerchief, which was scented
with lavender-water, to mop his face. The office of the court
interpreter was crowded. Men were hard at work writing out
depositions, but as the old proverb has it: "He wins who pays." The
head clerk of the court, the _sheristadar_, with a shawl over his
shoulders and a fine turban on his head, took a number of records
of cases and read them out in a sing-song before the magistrate,
who all the while was glancing at a newspaper, or writing some
of his own private letters: as each case was read out he asked:
"Well, what is all this about?" The _sheristadar_ gave him the
information that suited his own wishes on the subject, and the
opinion of the _sheristadar_ was practically the opinion of
the magistrate.

Barada Babu was standing on one side with Beni Babu and Ramlall,
and was perfectly amazed when he heard the kind of judgments
that were being delivered.  Considering the depositions that
had been made in his own case, he began to think that there
was very little chance of matters turning out auspiciously for
him. That the _sheristadar_ would show him any favour was in
the highest degree improbable, but he knew the old proverb:
"Destiny is the friend of the helpless." As he thus reflected,
his case was called on for hearing. Thakchacha had been sitting
inside the court: he at once took his witnesses with him, and
stood before the magistrate, proud and confident. When the papers
in the case had been read, the _sheristadar_ said: "My lord, this
is a clear case of illegal confinement and assault." Thakchacha
thereupon ceased stroking his moustache and glared at Barada Babu,
thinking that at last his end was achieved. In the other cases
no questions had been put to the defendants when the records had
been read: they had been treated as summarily as goats for the
sacrifice; but the magistrate's glance, as luck would have it,
falling upon Barada Babu before he passed his orders, the latter
respectfully explained to him in English, all the circumstances
of the case, saying: "I have never even seen the person who has
been put forward as having been confined and assaulted by me,
nor did the police-officers when they searched my premises find
anybody there. Beni Babu and Ramlall were with me at the time;
if you will be good enough to take their evidence, my declaration
will be substantiated."

Remarking the gentlemanly appearance of Barada Babu and the good
judgment that had distinguished his language, the magistrate was
anxious to make an enquiry.  Thakchacha gave many significant
hints to the _sheristadar_, and he for his own part, seeing the
turn things were taking, reflected that he might after all have
to disgorge the rupees he had taken, so laying aside all his
fears before the magistrate, he said: "My lord, there is really
no necessity for hearing this case over again." Upon this the
magistrate pursed his lips in some perplexity and turned the matter
over in his mind, cutting his nails the while.  Barada Babu seeing
his opportunity again explained to him, quietly and in detail, the
real facts of the case. As soon as the magistrate had heard him,
he took the evidence of Beni Babu and Ramlall, and the charge
appearing upon their statements to be manifestly a false one,
was dismissed.

The final orders had not been passed before Thakchacha was off
as hard as he could run. Barada Babu saluted the magistrate
respectfully and went out. When the court was closed, everybody
began to compliment him: he paid little heed however to them
and manifested no particular pleasure at winning his case, but
quietly got into his boat, accompanied by Beni Babu and Ramlall.


CHAPTER XVI.  THAKCHACHA AT HOME.

THAKCHACHA's house was on the outskirts of the city: on either side
of it were filthy tanks, and in front the shrine of some guardian
saint. Inside the enclosure was a storehouse for grain, and ducks
and fowls were running about the yard. Rogues of every description
were in the habit of assembling at the house early every morning.

Thakchacha could assume many characters in the conduct of his
business: he could be gentle or passionate: he could laugh or frown:
he could make a parade of virtue or a show of force, with equal
facility[32]. When the business of the day was over, he would take
his bath and his food, and then sit by his wife and smoke: and as
he smoked the tobacco would gurgle and hiss in its well-chased bowl
of _Bidri_ ware. Their conversation was generally on their mutual
joys and sorrows.

Thakchacha's wife was held in great repute amongst the women of
the district.  They were firmly convinced that she was well versed
in religious ritual and incantations, in the art of making bad
qualities good, in mesmerising, in causing even death or timely
disappearances, in magic and sorcery, and in fact in every variety
of the black art. For this reason women of all classes of life came
constantly to her to hold secret converse. An old proverb has it:
"As the god, so the goddess," and Thakchacha and his wife were
a well-matched pair: the husband got his living by his wits,
and the wife by her reputed learning.

A woman who earns her own living is apt to become somewhat
imperious, and her husband rarely receives from her unfeigned
respect and attention. Thakchacha had consequently to put up
occasionally with his wife's reproaches. She was now sitting
upon a low cane stool, saying to her husband: "You are always
roaming about everywhere but at home. What good does it all do
to me or the children?  You are always saying that you have such
a lot of business on hand; is our hunger appeased by such talk
as that? Now it is the desire of my heart to dress well and to
mix in the society of women of good position, but I never get a
glimpse of any money. You go wandering about like a lunatic; do
remain quietly at home for a change." Thakchacha replied somewhat
testily: "How can I possibly tell you all the trouble I have had
to undergo. Look at my great anxieties, look at all the artifices,
intrigues and trickery I have to employ: I have no language to
express it all. Then just as the game is on the point of falling
into my hands, off it flies again. Never mind, sooner or later
it will be caught." Just at this moment, a servant came to tell
them that a messenger was arrived from Baburam Babu's house to
summon Thakchacha, who thereupon looked at his wife and said: "You
see, the Babu is continually sending for me: he will do nothing
without consulting me. I will strike when the hour is come."

Baburam Babu was seated in his reception-hall: with him were
Bancharam Babu of Outer Simla, Beni Babu of Bally, and Becharam
Babu of Bow Bazar: they were all chatting hard. Thakchacha
sat down among them as a monkey chief might sit amidst his
subjects. Baburam at once greeted him: "Ha, Thakchacha, your
arrival is most opportune: my difficulties are as great as ever:
I am more involved than ever in these law-suits. Come and tell
me some way of preserving my property."

_Thakchacha_.-- Litigation is natural to a man who is a man. Your
misfortunes will all be at an end when your cases are won: why
then should you feel alarmed?

_Becharam_.-- Mercy! what advice is this you are giving? Baburam
Babu will be completely ruined by your instrumentality: of
that there is not the slightest doubt. What do you say, Beni,
my dear friend?

_Beni_.-- Some portions of the estate should be sold, I think,
to clear off the debts, and some arrangements made for reducing
the expenditure: the suits-at-law also should be looked into and
cleared off. But our words are wasted, like one crying in a bamboo
jungle. Thakchacha's are the only words attended to.

_Thakchacha_.-- I pledge my word of honour that all the suits
that have been instituted at my instigation will be gained:
I will clear all the difficulties away. Fighting is one of the
necessities of man's existence: what cause then is there for alarm?

_Becharam_.-- Ah, Thakchacha, how grand is the heroism you have
always exhibited!  What a magnificent display of courage you made
when the boat was swamped!  Why it was all on your account that
we suffered so on the occasion of the marriage.  You displayed
great bravery, I must say, in getting up that false charge against
Barada Babu. Not one of the affairs of Baburam Babu in which you
have meddled but has turned out most prosperously! All hail to
you: I humbly salute you!  But ugh! my gorge rises at the mere
recollection of you and all your works!  what more can I say to
you? Come, friend Beni, get up and come away: it is no pleasure
to me to sit here any longer.


CHAPTER XVII.  BABURAM'S SECOND MARRIAGE.

THERE had been heavy rain in the night: the roads and _ghâts_
was all muddy and wet: the sky was still overcast, and there were
occasional distant rumblings of thunder: frogs croaked everywhere
in loud chorus. The shopkeepers in the bazaar had opened out
their awnings, and were now engaged in smoking. Owing to the rainy
weather very few people were moving about: only a few _gariwans_
passed along the road, singing at the top of their voices, and
some coolies bearing loads on their heads, absorbed in their
favourite melody, of which the refrain ran:--

"Oh yes, my darling Bisakha!
"Your friend's just off to Mathura."

A number of barbers lived on the west side of the Vaidyabati
Bazar. One of them was sitting in his verandah on account of the
rain, and as he sat there, every now and then looking up at the sky
or humming softly to himself, his wife brought her infant child
to him and said, "I have not yet got through all my house work:
just nurse this child for me a bit! the pots and pans have not yet
been scoured, and the floor has not been rubbed down with cow-dung;
and besides, I have a lot of cooking to do. I am the only woman in
the house: how can I possibly do all this myself? -- have I four
hands or four feet?"

The barber straightway tucked his shaving instruments under his
arm and got up to go, saying, "I have no time just now to nurse
the child. Baburam Babu is to be married to-morrow: I must be
off at once." His wife started back, saying: "Good heavens! what
next? what, that fat unwieldy old man going to marry again! Alas,
alas! And such an excellent housewife as he has already, a chaste
divinity, as pure as Lakshmi! What, he must go and tie a co-wife
to her neck!  It is a crying shame! Why, there is a really
nothing that men will not do!"  The barber was dumbfounded by
this eloquent outburst, but taking no notice of what his wife was
saying, stuck his hat of plaited leaves on his head and went off.

That day was a very cloudy one, but early next morning the sun
shone brightly.  The trees and plants seemed all to have received
new life, and the joyous sounds of beast and bird, in field and
garden, were redoubled. Baburam Babu, Thakchacha, Bakreswar Babu,
and Bancharam Babu were just getting into one of the numerous
boats at the Vaidyabati Ghât, when suddenly Beni Babu and Becharam
Babu appeared. Thakchacha pretended not to see them, and shouted
to the boatmen to let the boat loose, while they remonstrated:
"But master, the ebb tide is still running! how shall we be able
to get along against it even if we punt with poles or haul with
ropes?" Baburam Babu received his two friends very courteously,
saying: "Your arrival is most opportune: come, let us all be
off." Becharam Babu then remonstrated: "Ah Baburam, who in the
world advised you to go and marry at your age?"

_Baburam_.-- Ah Becharam, my dear friend, am I so old as all
that? I am a good deal younger than you are: besides, if you say
that my hair is quite gray and that I have lost all my teeth,
that is the case with a good many others even at an early age:
it is not such a very great drawback. I have a good many things to
think of; one of my sons has gone to the bad, another has become
a lunatic: one of my daughters is no more, another is as good as
a widow. If I have children by this marriage, my family will be
preserved from extinction: I am, moreover, under an obligation
to marry: if I do not do so the girl's father will lose caste,
for they have no other family they can marry her into.

_Bakreswar_.-- That is indeed true: do you suppose that the
master has entered upon a matter of this importance without
taking everything into consideration?  I know no one of a better
understanding.

_Bancharam_.-- We are Kulins: we must maintain the traditions
of our family at any cost, and where wealth is a recommendation
as well, why, there is nothing more to be said!

_Becharam_.-- Confound your family traditions and bad luck to
your wealth! Alas, how many persons have combined to overthrow
one house! What do you say, friend Beni?

_Beni_.-- What shall I say? our remonstrances are but as idle
words, as the tears of one weeping in a wilderness. But really
this matter is a cause of great grief to me. To marry again when
you already have one wife, is a grievous sin: no man who wished
to maintain his virtue could ever do such a thing. There may be a
_Shástra_ of an opposite opinion, it is true; but there is never
any necessity for following it: that such a _Shástra_ is not a
genuine one there can be no reasonable doubt, and should it be
taken as a guide in actual practice, the bonds of marriage would
thereby become much weakened. The feelings of the wife towards
her husband cannot remain as before, and the feelings of the
husband towards his wife will also be constantly changing. If
such a calamity as this befalls a family, it cannot possibly
prosper or be happy. If there is such a rule in the _Shástras_,
that rule should not be regarded as binding. Be that as it may,
it is very base of Baburam Baba to marry a second time, considering
what a wife he has still living. I know nothing about the details
of the matter: it has only just come to my ears.

_Thakchacha_.-- Ah, the man of books picks a hole in everything!
he seems to me to have nothing else to do. I am getting an old man
now, and my beard is gray.  Must I be always arguing with such
children? Does the learned Babu know how much wealth this marriage
will bring to the family?

_Becharam_.-- Mercenary wretch that you are! do you recognise
money only? Have you no regard for anything else? You are a low
unprincipled scoundrel, that is all I can say. Ugh! friend Beni,
come, let us be off.

_Thakchacha_.-- I will have a talk with you some other day: we
cannot waste any more time now. You will have to hurry if you
want to reach the house in time.

Thereupon, Becharam caught hold of Beni Babu by the hand and
got up, saying: "We will never, as long as we live, go to such
a marriage; and if there be such a thing as virtue in the world,
may you not return in peace! Only ruin can attend your counsel:
you who are now enjoying yourself at Baburam Babu's expense! I
have nothing more to say to you. Ugh!"


CHAPTER XVIII.  MOZOOMDAR ON THE MARRIAGE.

THE sun was just setting: gloriously beautiful was the western
sky with its many and varied tints. On land and water the sun's
tremulous light seemed gently smiling, while a soft breeze blew:
everything was calm and inviting.  On such an evening as this,
a number of young men were thronging with loud and boisterous
shouts down the main street of Vaidyabati. They knocked against the
passers-by, smashing the things they were carrying, hustling them,
throwing their baskets away and robbing them of their supplies
of food. They sang continuously at the top of their voices,
imitating the howls of dogs at the same time. On either side
of the road people fled, calling for assistance and protection,
trembling, and bewildered with fear. Like a storm sweeping down
from all four quarters of the compass at once, with the roar
of heavy rain, this whirlwind came tearing and raging past. And
who are these mighty men? Who indeed but those models of virtue,
Matilall and his companions? -- King Nala and Yudhishthira over
again! They are far too great personages to pay heed to anyone:
so full of self-importance and of pride are their heads that they
are as unsteady in their gait as men drunk with much wine. They
have it all their own way as they come swaggering along.

Just then an old man from the village, one Mozoomdar, his
solitary lock waving in the breeze, a stick in one hand and some
vegetables in the other, approached them, leaning heavily on his
stick. They all surrounded him and began to amuse themselves at
his expense. Mozoomdar was a little hard of hearing, and when
they said to him: "Come, tell us, how is your wife?" he replied:
"I shall have to roast them before I can eat them." They laughed
heartily, and Mozoomdar would have liked to slip away, but there
was no escape for him. The young Babus seized him, and making
him sit on the bank of the river, gave him a pipe of tobacco,
saying to him: 'Come, Mozoomdar, tell us all about the row at
the marriage of the master of Vaidyabati: you are bit of a poet:
it is a pleasure to us to listen to you. If you do not tell us,
we shall not let you off, and we shall go and tell your wife that
you have met with an untimely death.' Mozoomdar saw that he was
in a bad way, and that there was no getting out of it unless he
complied; so, making the best of a bad job, he set his stick and
vegetables on the ground and commenced his narrative.

"It is a pitiable tale that I have to tell. What an experience
has it been to me, accompanying the master! It was close on
evening when the boat drew up at the Barnagore _ghât_. Some
women had come to the riverside to draw water: as soon as they
saw the master, they veiled their faces slightly and began to
chatter hard to each other, laughing quietly the while. 'Ha
what a lovely bridegroom!' they cried, 'what a sweet _champac_
flower for a lucky girl to fondle in her braided hair!' Said
one of them: 'Old or young, whichever he may be, the girl will
have no difficulty in seeing him with her eyes: that of itself
is something. May the wretched lot that has befallen me befall
no one else: married at the age of six, I have never even set
eyes on my husband. I have heard that he has married some fifty
wives, and is over eighty years of age; and though he is such a
wretched tottering old man, he never makes any objection to marry
if he is only well paid for it. Sorely some great crimes must have
been committed in former births, or else daughters would never be
born into a Kulin's family!' 'My dear,' said another woman to her,
'you have finished drawing water now: come along, you ought not to
gossip like this when you come to the riverside. Why, your husband
is alive, whereas the man I was married to was actually dying,
with his feet in the Ganges, when the ceremony of marriage was
performed! What possible good will it do to discuss the religious
duties of Kulin Brahmans? The secrets of the heart are best kept
locked up in the breast.'"

"It grieved me to listen to the talk of the women, and the
words of Beni Babu, which he spoke at the time of our departure,
recurred to my mind. Then on landing at the Barnagore _Ghât_,
there was a good deal of trouble in trying to get a _palki_, but
not a single bearer was to be had, and the time for the ceremony
was fast slipping away. We had to proceed as best we could. After
a good deal of floundering about in the mud, we reached the house
of the bride's father. How can I describe to you the figure that
the master presented after he had tumbled down in the road? we had
only to put him upon an ox, for him to have appeared a veritable
Mahadeva, and we might have presented Thakchacha and Bakreswar as
Nandi and Bhringi in attendance upon him. I had heard rumours that
there would be a large distribution of presents, but on getting up
to the great hall, I saw that there was to be nothing of the sort:
it was all a delusion, and another illustration of the old proverb,
-- 'Sand has fallen into the _goor_.'  Thakchacha, seeing his
hopes destroyed, was glaring around him everywhere, and strutting
insolently about. I could not help smiling to myself, but I thought
it would be safer not to express my real sentiments. The bridegroom
had meanwhile withdrawn for the ceremonies performed by the women
of the family. The women, old and young, all surrounded him,
their ornaments jingling as they moved about They were horrified
when they saw the bridegroom. During the performance of the
ceremony, when bride and bridegroom gaze into each other's eyes,
he was obliged to put his spectacles on: the women all burst out
laughing and began to make fun of him. He flew into a passion and
called out, 'Thakchacha!  Thakchacha!'  Thakchacha was just on
the point of running into the women's apartments, when the people
belonging to the party of the bride's father got him on the ground.
Bancharam Babu was pugnacious, and got well thrashed. Bakreswar
Babu was hustled about so that he resembled a pigeon with swollen
neck. When I saw the disturbance, I left the bridegroom's party
and joined that of the bride.  What became of everybody in the end
I cannot say, but Thakchacha had to return home in a _dooly_. You
all know the saying-- 'In avarice is sin, and in sin death.'
Now listen to the poetry I have composed":--

Any counsel his parasite pours in his ears,
Baburam, the old dotard, as gospel reveres.
Still dreaming of riches by day and by night,
No thought ever stirs him of wrong or of right.
In saving and getting he squanders his life,
And lately it struck him, "I'll marry a wife!"
"Fie! you're old," cry his friends, "and what can you need more?
"You've your wife and your children, with grandsons in store?"
But their kindly advice for themselves they may keep"
At a trifle like bigamy, fortunes go cheap!
So all in a flurry he orders a boat,
And with kinsmen and servants is shortly afloat.
Good Beni's remonstrance he haughtily spurns,
Who home to his rice unrewarded returns.
Becharam is disgusted, and toddles away:
"Thakchacha, you scoundrel!" was all he could say.
But the Barnagore women such volleys of jeers
Exchange through their _chudders_ where'er he appears,
That the bridegroom gets nervous, and asks in affright,
"Can I really be such a ridiculous sight?
"Is some further expenditure needed, alas?"
And anxiously studies his face in the glass.
Reassured of his beauty, and freed from alarm
He swaggers along, upon Thakchacha's arm.
But scarce is he rid of that terrible doubt,
When in mud like a pumpkin he's tumbling about;
And his friends in the mire as they flounder half-dead,
See the Halls, not of Hymen but Pluto ahead.
And indeed it turns out, when he's taken the yoke[33],
That his vision connubial has vanished in smoke;
For the cluster of pearls he was hoping to claim,
And the gold and the silver, were nought but a name!
Thakchacha, outwitted, with furious scowl
Glares round him, scarce able to stifle a howl.
And oh, when its time for the bridegroom to enter
The ladies' domain[34], of what mirth he's the centre!
Every bangle a-jangle, around him they flutter,
And flout him and scout him till scarce he can stutter.
"This pot-bellied dotard to wed with a baby!
"This bloated old octogenarian gaby!
"With a head like a gourd, not a tooth to his gum!
"'Tis an overgrown ogre in spectacles come!
"And the child, the sweet blossom, our jewel so rare!
"Ah, shame on the Kulins, such deeds who can dare!"
While, shrinking and blinking and all of a shiver,
The bridegroom, a captive whom none will deliver,
Cries feebly as one in the direst of pain,
"To the rescue, Thakchacha!" again and again.
That hero leaps in at the piteous sound,
But is seized by the _durwans_ and hurled to the ground.
The remains of his beard he may rescue to-day,
But a terrible hiding's his share of the prey.
The guests, who consider it risky to stay,
Have other engagements, and hasten away.
Your servant, the tumult increasing still more,
Not without some temerity, made for the door,
And retired, with a fortitude second to none.
All hail to you, masters! my story is done.


CHAPTER XIX.  DEATH OF BABURAM BABU.

HAVING just come in from his morning walk, Beni Babu was sitting
in his garden-house. He was gazing about him, and had just caught
up a refrain of Ram Prasad's[35]

"Swift to its goal life ebbs away."

--when suddenly from a bower of creepers to the west of him, he
heard a voice: "Ha! friend Beni! True indeed it is that 'swift
to its goal life ebbs away.'"  Starting up from his seat, Beni
Babu saw Becharam Babu of Bow Bazar hurrying towards him, and
going to meet him, said: "Becharam, my dear friend, what has
happened?" Becharam Babu replied: "Throw your shawl over your
shoulders and come with me at once: Baburam Babu is very ill:
you must see him just once."

The two friends soon reached Vaidyabati, and saw that Baburam
Babu had a very severe attack of fever: his temperature was very
high, and he was suffering from intense thirst, tossing restlessly
about on his bed. Some slices of cucumber and a cloth steeped in
rose-water lay beside him, but he could retain no nourishment. The
villagers all thronged around, loudly discussing the nature of
his illness: one of them was saying: "Our pulse is the pulse of
vegetarians and fish-eaters: nothing but harm can arise from the
use of leeches, purgatives, and blisters. The best kind of treatment
for us is that of the old village doctor; and then, if no relief
is obtained, and grave symptoms occur, a doctor using the English
methods might be called in." Another remarked: "It would be a good
thing to have the opinion of a Mahomedan _hakim_: they often effect
wonderful cures, and their drugs are all as pleasant to take as
that delicious sweetmeat the _mohanbhog_" Another said: "You may
say what you will, but doctors who treat on English methods give
instantaneous relief in all such cases of sickness, as if by the
repetition of a _mantra_: a cure will be very difficult without
proper medical treatment." The sick man kept repeatedly asking
for water. Brojonath Raya, the old _kabiraj_, who was sitting
by him at the time, said: "The case is a very serious one: it is
not a good thing to be constantly giving him water: we must give
him a little of the juice of the _bael_. We are none of us his
enemies, I should imagine, that we should be giving him just now
as much water as he wants." All this wrangling was going on by
Baburam Babu's bedside. The next room was filled with a number
of pandits, who, of course, regarded as of chief importance
the performance of sacrifices to Shiva, the worship of the sun,
the offering of a million of _hibiscus_ flowers at Kali's shrine
at Kalighat, and all such religious ceremonials. Beni Babu had
been standing listening to the discussion going on round Baburam
Babu, but everybody was talking at once and nobody listening to
anybody else. "Many sages many opinions" says the old proverb, and
each man thought his words as infallible as the mystic _mantra_
possessed by Druva.  Though Beni Babu attempted once or twice
to express his own opinion, his words were lost almost before he
had opened his lips[36], and being unable to get a word in
edgewise, he took Becharam Babu outside with him.

Just then Thakchacha approached them, limping painfully along:
he was exceedingly anxious on account of Baburam Babu's illness,
reflecting that all his chances of gain had slipped away. Beni
Babu, seeing him, said: "Thakchacha, what is the matter with
your leg?" Becharam burst in with the remark: "What, my friend,
have you never heard of the affair of Barnagore? The pain he is
suffering is only the punishment for his evil advice: have you
forgotten what I said in the boat?" Thakchacha tried to slip away
when he heard this, but Beni Babu caught him by the arm and said:
"Never mind that now! is anything being devised for the recovery
of the master? There is great confusion in the house."  Thakchacha
replied: "When the fever commenced, I took Ekramaddi the _hakim_
with me: by the administration of purgatives and other drugs he
reduced the fever, and allowed his patient to eat spiced rice; but
the fever returned again the other day, and since then Brojonath
the _kabiraj_ has been looking after the case.  The fever seems to
me to be steadily increasing: I cannot imagine what to do." Beni
Babu said: "Thakchacha, do not be angry at what I am going to say:
you should have sent us news of this before. However, that cannot
be helped now: we must call in a skilled English doctor at once."

At this moment, Ramlall and Barada Prasad Babu approached.
Ramlall's face was quite worn from night-watching, from the labour
and toil of nursing, and from I anxiety of mind; his daily anxiety
was to devise means for restoring his father to convalescence and
health. Seeing Beni Babu he said to him: "Sir, I am in grievous
trouble: with all this confusion in the house no good advice is to
be had from any one. Barada Babu comes every morning and evening
to look after my father, but none of the people here will allow
me to carry out his instructions.  Your arrival is most opportune:
please adopt any steps you think necessary."

Becharam Babu gazed steadily at Barada Babu for some time, and
then with tears in his eyes caught hold of his hand and cried:
"Ah, Barada Babu, why is it that everybody does you reverence,
except on account of the many good qualities you possess? Why,
it was Thakchacha here who advised Baburam Babu to have that
charge of illegal confinement and assault brought against you,
and all kinds of violence and knavery have been practised on
you without rhyme or reason, at their instigation; and yet, when
Thakchacha fell sick, you cured him, treating him and even nursing
him yourself, and now too, when Baburam is ill, you spare no effort
to give good advice, and to look after his welfare. Now generally
speaking, if one man but speaks harshly against another, enmity
at once springs up between them, and though a thousand apologies
may be made, the feeling does not pass away; but though you have
been grievously insulted and injured, you have no difficulty in
forgetting the insult and injuries you have suffered. No feeling
towards another but brotherly kindness arises in your mind. Ah,
Barada Babu, many may talk of virtue, but never have I found
any possessing such as you possess. Men are naturally base and
corrupt; how then can they judge of your qualities? But as day
and night are true, your qualities will be judged above."

Somewhat vexed by these remarks of Becharam Babu, Barada Babu
bowed his head and said humbly: "Sir, pray do not address me like
this. I am but a very insignificant person: what is my knowledge
or what my virtue after all?"

"We had better postpone this conversation" Beni Babu said,
"tell me now what to devise for the master's illness."

Barada Babu replied: "If you gentlemen think the idea a good
one, I can go to Calcutta and bring a doctor back with me by
the evening: no further confidence, I think, should be placed in
Brojonath Raya."

Premnarayan Mozoomdar, who was standing near, remarked: "Doctors
do not properly understand the pulse, and they let their patients
die in their houses.  We ought not to dismiss the _kabiraj_
altogether: on the contrary, let the _kabiraj_ and the doctor
each take up a special feature of the case."

"We can take that matter into consideration afterwards" Beni Babu
said, "go now, Barada Babu, and fetch a doctor."

Barada Babu started off for Calcutta at once, without taking
either his bath or his food, though they all remonstrated: "Sir,
you have the whole day before you, take a mouthful of food before
you start." He only replied: "If I stop to do that there will be
delay, and all my trouble may go for nought."

Baburam Babu, as he lay on his bed, kept asking where Matilall
was, but it was hard to get a glimpse of even the top tuft of
his hair: he was always out on picnics with his boon companions,
and paid no heed to his father's illness.  Beni Babu observing
this conduct sent a servant out to Matilall in the garden, but he
only sent back some feigned excuse; he had a very bad headache,
and would come home later on. As the fever left Baburam Babu about
two o'clock in the afternoon, his pulse became exceedingly weak:
the _kabiraj_ examining it, said: "The master must be removed from
the house at once. He is a man of long experience, an old man,
and a man highly respected; and we ought certainly to ensure that
his end be a happy one." On hearing this the whole household broke
out into loud lamentations, and all his kinsmen and neighbours
assisted in carrying him into the great hall of the house. Just
then Barada Babu arrived with the English doctor. The latter,
observing the state of his pulse, remarked.  "You have called
me in at the last moment: how can a doctor possibly be of any
use if you only summon him just before taking a patient to the
Ganges[30]?" With these words he departed.

All the inhabitants of Vaidyabati stood round Baburam Babu, each
asking some question or other, such as: "Honoured sir, can you
recognise me?" "Come, sir, say who I am?" Beni Babu remonstrated:
"Please do not vex the sick man in this way? What is the good of
all this questioning[37]?" The officiating priests had now
completed their sacrifices, and approached with the sacred flowers
of blessing; but they saw at once that their ceremonial had all
been in vain. Seeing that Baburam Babu's breathing was becoming
heavier, they all took him to the Vaidyabati Ghât. After tasting
of the Ganges water and breathing the fresher air, he revived
a little: the crowd too had diminished in numbers. Ramlall sat
beside his father while Barada Prasad Babu came and stood in
front of him. After a short pause, the latter said very quietly:
"Pray meditate for this once with all your mind upon the Supreme
God: without His favour we are utterly helpless." Baburam Babu
hearing these words, gazed intently for a few seconds at Barada
Prasad Babu, and began to shed tears.  Ramlall wiped away his
tears and gave him a few drops of milk to drink.  Baburam Babu
then grew more composed and said in a low tone: "Ah, my friend
Barada Babu, I now know that I have no other friend in the world
but you!  Through the evil counsel of a certain individual, I
have committed many and grievous crimes: these are continually
recurring to my memory, and my soul seems to be on fire. I am a
grievous sinner: how shall I make answer for it? Can you possibly
forgive me?" As he uttered these words Baburam Babu took hold
of the hand of Barada Babu, and closed his eyes. His friends and
neighbours who were near began repeating the name of God. Thus,
in full possession of his faculties[38] Baburam Babu passed away.


CHAPTER XX.  THE SHRADDHA CEREMONY.

ON the death of his father, Matilall succeeded to the _guddee_,
and became the head of the house. His former companions never
left his side for a moment, and he grew as proud as a turkey-cock,
rejoicing in the thought that at last after so long a time he might
give his extravagance its full bent. When Matilall displayed a
little grief on his father's account, his companions said to him:
"Why are you so depressed? who expects to live for ever with his
father and mother? You are now lord and master." A fool's grief
is a mere empty name. How can true sorrow possibly affect the
mind of the man who has never given any happiness to those whom
he should hold most sacred -- his father and his mother -- but
on the contrary untold pain and misery? The feeling, if it does
arise, passes away like a shadow, and the natural consequence is
that such a man can never have any veneration for the memory of
his father, and his mind is never inclined to do anything to keep
him in remembrance. Matilall's eager desire to know the extent of
the property which his father had left, very soon overshadowed his
grief. Acting on the advice of his companions, he put double locks
on the house-door and on the money-chest, and became more easy in
his mind when he had done so. He was in a perpetual state of alarm
lest his money should somehow or other fall into the hands of his
mother, stepmother, brother or sister, and be altogether lost to
him in consequence. His companions were continually saying to him:
"Money is a very important thing, sir! Where it is in question,
no confidence is to be reposed even in one's own father. Now there
is your younger brother always carrying a big bag of virtue about
with him wherever he goes, and with truth always on his tongue;
yet even his preceptor never shows indulgence to anyone, but
whenever he has the opportunity enforces his full claims. We
have seen a good many shams of that kind. Anyhow, Barada Babu
must know something of witchcraft: he must have lived some time
at Kamrup[39]. How otherwise is it possible to account for the great
influence he had over Baburam Babu at the time of his death?"

Not very long after this conversation, Matilall proceeded to
visit his relatives and kinsmen, to signify his accession to
his new position as master of the house. Busybodies are at
all times to be found, ready to interfere in other people's
concerns. Like the twists and turns of the _jelabhi_ sweetmeat,
their conversation touches on a variety of topics, but never goes
straight to the point: like air it wanders where it will, and it
is as difficult to get hold of, for it will generally be found
on close examination to have double meaning.  Some of those he
visited said: "The master was a most worthy person: had it not been
for his great store of merit, he could not have had the children
he did. His death too,--why, it was characteristic of the man!
it was marvellous!  Ah, sir, all this time you have been under the
shelter of a mountain, shielded and protected! You will now have
your own discretion to depend upon: the family all look to you:
you have the whole number of religious festivals to keep up: you
have, moreover, to perpetuate the name of your father and your
grandfather.  First, of course you must perform the _shraddha_
with due regard to your property: you need not in this matter
dance to the tune of the world's opinion.  Why Ram Chandra
himself offered a funeral cake of sand to his father's shade,
and if you have to abridge your expenditure in this respect,
it is idle to mourn over that: but to do nothing at all is not
good. Ah, sir, you must know that your father's name resounds
far and wide! by virtue of his name the tiger and the cow drink
at the same pool! can his _shraddha_ then be like the _shraddha_
of a poor and insignificant man? Even those encumbered with debt
must avoid the world's reproach." Matilall could not comprehend the
drift of all this talk.  These men, while nominally manifesting
their bosom friendship as kinsmen for a kinsman, were really in
their inmost hearts eager to have a gorgeous _shraddha_ ceremony,
and themselves to get the management of it, so that they might
gain importance thereby; but they would never give a plain answer
to a plain question. One of them said: "It will never do not to
have the _shorash_, with the usual display of silver and other
presents" Another remarked: "You will find it very hard to keep
the world's respect, if you do not have a _dan-sagar_, with
costly presents of every kind for all comers." Another said:
"It will be a very poor sort of _shraddha_, if there is no
_dampati-baran_ for poor Brahmans."  And another said: "It will
be a great disgrace if pandits are not invited to attend, and a
distribution of alms not made to the poor." There was a good deal
of wrangling over the affair. "Who wants your advice?" -- "Who
told you to argue?" -- "Who listens to your conclusions?" --
"Nobody respects you in the village: it is only in your own
opinion that you are the head-man," such remarks were freely
bandied about from one to the other. Each of those present indeed
was in his own estimation the most important man there, and each
man thought what he had to say the conclusion of the whole matter.

Three days after this discussion, Beni Babu, Becharam Babu,
Bancharam Babu, and Bakreswar Babu, arrived at Matilall's
house. Thakchacha was sitting near Matilall as melancholy
and spiritless as a snake with its jewelled crest lost:
with bead-rosary in his hand and with trembling lips, he was
muttering his prayers. His attention was not directed to the brisk
conversation that was going on around him: his eyes were rolling
about, their glance chiefly directed at the wall. When he saw Beni
Babu and the others, he rose hurriedly and saluted them. Such
humility on Thakchacha's part had never been witnessed before,
but the old proverb has it:-- "With the venom, goes the glamour."

Beni Babu took hold of Thakchacha's hand, and said to him: "Why,
what are you doing? How is it that you, a venerable old Moulvi
as you are, honour us like this?"

Bancharam Babu said: "We must waste no more time: our leisure
is very limited.  Nothing is as yet arranged; come, tell us what
should be done."

_Becharam_.-- Baburam's affairs are in great confusion: some of
the property will have to be sold to clear off debts. It would
not be right to celebrate the _shraddha_ on a magnificent scale
and incur more debt by so doing.

_Bancharam_.-- What is this I hear? Surely the very first
requisite is to avoid the censure of the world: the property may
be looked after later on. Shall honour and reputation be allowed
to float away on the waters of this flood?

_Becharam_.-- That is very bad advice, and I will never assent
to it myself. How now, friend Beni, what do you say?

_Beni_.-- To incur debt again in any case where there is already
a good deal, and where it is doubtful whether it can be cleared
off even by a sale of property, is really a species of theft;
for how can the new debt incurred be cleared off?

_Bancharam_.-- Bah! that is only an English idea. As a matter of
fact the rich always live on credit: they incur debts here only
to pay them off there. A respectable man like you should not be
a marplot; or put obstacles in the way of a good action. I have
no property to give way myself, but if any one else is prepared
to make presents to all the pandits, am I bound to offer any
opposition? We all of us have pandits more or less dependent
upon us, and they will all want to receive invitations. It is
only natural they should: they must live.

_Bakreswar_.-- Very well said, sir! There is an old saying:
"Death before dishonour."

_Becharam_.-- Baburam Babu's family are in the centre of a
conflagration: as far as I can see they will soon be utterly
ruined. We must try and find a remedy to prevent this. A curse
on this method of purchasing renown at the expense of debt! I do
not consider Brahman followers to have such a claim upon me that
I should sacrifice others to fill their maws: a pretty business
that would be! Come, my friend Beni, let us be off.

As soon as Beni Babu and Becharam Babu had gone, Bancharam said
"A good riddance! these two gentlemen understand nothing about
the matter: they only talk. How refreshing it is to speak with
a man of real intelligence.  Thakchacha, come and sit by me:
what is your opinion in this matter?"

"It is a great pleasure to me also," Thakchacha replied, "to
have a talk with a man like you: those two gentlemen are daft:
I am afraid to go near them. All that you have said is very true:
a man's life is practically thrown away if his honour and power
are lost. You and I will look well after the particulars and get
rid of all the difficulties. Is there any cause for alarm then?"

Matilall was naturally very extravagant, and fond of display:
he had no knowledge of money matters at all, and knew nothing of
business. He put full confidence in Bancharam and Thakchacha:
for apart from the fact that they were always frequenting the
courts and had the law at their fingers' ends, they had managed
to win an influence over him, exactly hitting off his wishes by
their clever ingenuity.

"Do you undertake the entire management of this business," said he,
"I will sign my name to anything you require."

"Let me have the master's will out of the box," Bancharam Babu
said. "Under the terms of the will, you are the only heir: your
brother is a lunatic, consequently his name has been omitted. If
you take the will and hand it into court, you will have letters of
administration granted you, and the property may then be mortgaged,
or sold upon your signature only." Matilall at once opened the box,
and took the will out.

When Bancharam had done all that was necessary in the courts,
he made arrangements with a money-lender, and returned to the
Vaidyabati house with the papers and the money. Matilall signed
the papers the moment he caught sight of the money, and putting
his hands on the bag of rupees was on the point of placing it in
the box, when Bancharam and Thakchacha said to him, "Ah, sir!
if the money remains with you, it will soon be all spent: it
will be safer, we think, in our charge. You are so good-natured
you know, so tender-hearted, that you cannot deny anything even
to a look: we, knowing people better, will be able to drive all
suppliants away."

Matilall thought to himself: "This is very excellent advice:
besides, how am I to get any money to spend after the _shraddha_!
have no father now to get money from by a mere look." So he agreed
to their proposal.

Great were the preparations for the shraddha ceremony of Baburam
Babu. What with the noise of arranging the _shorash_ and the silver
presents to be given to the pandits, the smell of the sweetmeats,
the buzzing of hornets, the pungent smoke from wet wood, and the
continual stream of things arriving for use on the occasion,
the whole house was full of confusion and bustle. Brahmans of
the poorer classes, whether connected with family worship, or
with shop or bazar accounts, all wearing silk clothes, and with
Ganges clay on their foreheads, were continually crowding in
for invitations to the shraddha ceremony. Of the Tarkavagishas,
Vidyaratnas, Nyayalankars, Bachaspatis, and Vidyasagars, all
learned and celebrated pandits, there was no end. Sages and _gurus_
were continually arriving. It was like the festival of the village
leather-seller, on the death of a cow.

The day of the ceremony arrived. Pandits from all parts of the
country had come for the assembly usual on such occasions[40], and
seated near them were their relatives, kinsmen and friends. Before
them were arranged presents of every description and for all
comers; horses, _palkis_, brass dishes, broadcloth, oil vessels,
and hard cash. On one side of them the processional singing was
in progress, and in the midst of the singers was Becharam Babu
enthusiastically absorbed in the music. Outside the house were
collected together Brahmans of lesser degree, pedigree reciters,
mendicants, _sannyasis_ and beggars.  Thakchacha, not having
sufficient effrontery to sit down in the assembly, was roaming
about in the crowd.

The venerable Pandits were taking snuff and conversing together on
subjects connected with the _shástras_. One of their characteristics
is the difficulty they find in carrying on a discussion at their
great meetings calmly and composedly: some element of discord
is always sure to arise. One of the pandits introduced a portion
of the _Nyaya shástras_ for discussion:-- "Smoke is the effect
of fire, and this is a different substance from a water-jar." A
pandit from Orissa thereupon remarked, "The water-jar is itself
distinct from a mountain." "What is this, my friend, that you
are saying?" asked a pandit from Kashigoya, "you surely have not
paid proper attention to the sentence: he who regards a water-jar,
clothes, and a mountain as the same as smoke from a fire, simply
murders the famous Siromani." A pandit from Eastern Bengal said:
"Smoke is an entirely different substance from a water-jar: smoke
is the effect of fire: how then can there be smoke when there is
no fire[41]?" And so the dispute went on, and at last, from simply
glaring at each other, they got to a hand-to-hand scrimmage.

Thakchacha thought matters were looking serious and that he had
better calm things down before they went any further; so going
quietly up to them, he said: "I say, gentlemen, why are you
making such minute enquiries about such trifles as a water-pot
or a lamp? I will make you a much more valuable present; I will
give you two water-pots apiece," A very sharp Brahman amongst the
pandits at once got up and said, "Who are you, you low fellow? An
infidel outcast present at the _shraddha_ of a Hindu? This is not
the _shraddha_ of a she-ghost, that an apparition like you should
be the superintendent of it." As he said this, everybody present
began abusing Thakchacha, thumping him with their fists, pushing
him about and beating him with sticks. Thereupon Bancharam Babu
hurried up and said: "If you make a disturbance and interfere with
the _shraddha_ in this way, I will know the reason why: I will
get a summons out against you at once from the High Court. I am
not a man to be trifled with I can tell you."  Bakreswar Babu too
had his say. "That is right: besides, the boy who is performing
the _shraddha_ is no common boy, he is the very model of a boy."
Becharam Baba observed: "It is becoming a matter of notoriety
that nothing ever goes right where Thakchacha and Bancharam have
the management. Ugh! Ugh." The disturbance did not cease. The
rowdy vagrants who were present, and others, kept adding to the
confusion, and as blows from the canes continually rained on them,
they shouted out, "A fine shraddha indeed you have celebrated." At
length all the respectable gentlemen present, seeing the state
of affairs, exclaimed:--

"Friends! Call this a _shraddha_? Whose _shraddha_ I pray?
"Tis death to a Brahman to toil without pay."

"Come, we had better slip away at once: why should we run any
more risk when there is nothing to be gained by it?"


CHAPTER XXI.  MATILALL ON THE GUDDEE.

PEOPLE did not think much of Baburam Babu's _shraddha_. The rain,
as the proverb has it, was out of all proportion to the thunder.
Oil fell on a good many heads that were oiled already, while heads
that were dry and destitute of oil only got cracked. Their
disputation was all the profit that the pandits got. The
uneducated city Brahmans had it all their own way. The harsh
discipline of all kinds to which pandits subject themselves,
creates in them a stubbornness of nature: they follow their own
opinions and do not agree with all and everything they find.
The Brahmans of a lower order, _habitúes_ of the city, suit their
conversation to the minds of the Babus: in the words of the proverb,
they adapt their strokes to the quality of the wood. If it suits
them to be Gosains, Gosains they can be; and the characters they
can assume are as varied as the ingredients of a curry mixture; is
it surprising then that they generally get the best of everything?
The managers of the _shraddha_ had taken every precaution to fill
their own pockets: they were keen chiefly on their own share of
the gifts: what did it matter to them whether the pandits or the
poor received anything worth mentioning? There was a great flourish
of trumpets over things that would be matter of public observation
and could not be avoided, but equal consideration was not shown
throughout. Management such as that is a mere playing to the gallery.

The stir which the _shraddha_ had caused gradually died away.

Bancharam and Thakchacha took to flattering Matilall to an
extraordinary extent, and Matilall, being of a very weak nature,
was enthralled by their seductive language, and thought that he had
no other friends on earth like them. With a view to increasing his
importance they one day said to him:-- "Sir, you are now master:
it behoves you to take your seat on the _guddee_ of the master now
in heaven: how otherwise will his dignity be maintained?" Matilall
was highly delighted at the idea. As a child he had heard bits
of the _Ramayana_ and _Mahabharata_[42], and so it occurred to him
that he would be seated on the _guddee_ with the same pomp and
circumstance with which Yudhishthira and Ram Chandra were anointed
to the throne of their ancestors. Bancharam and Thakchacha saw that
Matilall's face shone again with delight at the suggestion they
had made, so the next day they settled on a date for the ceremony,
and calling together all his kinsmen and friends, seated Matilall
upon his father's _guddee_. In the village the report got about
that Matilall had attained to this honour: The news soon spread:
it was told in the market-place, in the bazar, at the _ghât_, and
in the fields. A choleric old Brahman, when he heard it remarked,
"Oh, he has attained the _guddee_, has he? What a fine expression!
And whose _guddee_, pray? That of the great Jagat Sett[43], or of
Devi Dass Balmukunda?"

When a man of sound sense attains to a high position or to great
wealth, he is not liable to be lightly swayed hither and thither;
whereas a man who lacks solidity of character, should he attain
to a higher position than he is accustomed to, is as unstable
as the waters of a flood. And so it proved with Matilall. Day
and night, unceasing as a torrent, arose the hubbub of boisterous
amusement. His companions did not diminish; on the contrary, their
number daily increased, rapidly as the fabulous _Raktabij_[44]. Was
there anything surprising in this? When rice is scattered there
is no lack of crows, and a whole army of ants will come together
at the scent of molasses.

Bakreswar Baba visited Matilall one day to try and get something
out of him, and used all his arts to fascinate Matilall by his
talk. But Matilall had been acquainted from his boyhood with
Bakreswar's crafty cajolery, and so he gave him this answer:--
"Sir, you have destroyed all my chances in the next world by the
partiality and favour you showed me in the past. I never failed
to give you enough presents when I was a boy: why do you keep
bothering me now?" Bakreswar went away with his head bent low,
muttering to himself. Matilall was now as one inebriated with
pleasure: though Bancharam and Thakchacha went occasionally
to see him, he would have little to do with them in the way of
business. Owing to the power-of-attorney he had given them, they
had entire command over everything, and now and again they made
the Babu a liberal advance, but nothing in the way of detailed
accounts of expenditure was forthcoming from them.

As for the rest of his family, he never took the slightest notice
of them: he never even troubled himself to enquire where they
were or where they went.  The ladies endured much hardship on
this account, but Matilall by his riotous living had become so
lost to all sense of shame that he paid no heed to the reports
that reached him on the subject. To have to mourn for a husband
is the greatest affliction that a faithful wife is called on to
endure. It is some alleviation to her in her trouble, if she have
good children; but if on the contrary they disappoint her it adds
intensity to the bitterness of her grief, as melted butter thrown
upon fire. Matilall's evil behaviour was a terrible grief to his
mother, but she never spoke openly of it. One day, however, after
long deliberation, she approached him and said:-- "My child,
what was to be my lot, that has been: now, for the few remaining
days that I have to live, let me not have to listen to this evil
report of you. I cannot lend my ears to people's abuse of you. Have
some little regard for your younger brother, your elder sister,
and your stepmother: they are not getting half enough to eat. Ah,
my child, I ask nothing for myself: I lay no farther burden upon
you." To these words of his mother, Matilall, his eyes inflamed
with passion, replied: "What?  will you be always chattering
and abusing me? Do you not know that I am now master in my own
house? What is this evil report about me?" As he said this, he
struck his mother a blow on the face and pushed her down. She
got up from the ground after a short interval, and wiping away
her tears with the border of her _saree_, said to her son: "Ah,
my son! I never heard of children beating their mothers before,
but it has been my destiny for this to happen to me. I have nothing
further to say: I only pray that all may be well with you." Next
day, without saying a word to any one, his mother left the house
with her daughter.

Since the death of his father, Ramlall had made many efforts to
be on good terms with his brother, but had had to suffer many
indignities. Matilall was in constant anxiety lest he should have
to give up the half of the property, and so be unable to continue
his _role_ of the grandee; and as life would be but a sorry farce
if he had to give up that _role_, he must, he considered, take
the necessary steps to mulct his brother of his share. Having
settled on this plan, by the advice of course of Bancharam and
Thakchacha, he forbade Ramlall the house. Thus shut out from the
home of his fathers, Ramlall, after long deliberation, without
having had an interview with his mother, sister, or any one,
proceeded to another part of the country.


CHAPTER XXII.  MATILALL IN BUSINESS.

MATILALL saw that his mother, his brother, and his sister, had now
all gone from the house. "A good riddance!" thought he: his path
was at length cleared of thorns; all bother was at an end. This
had come about by a slight display of passion on his part, --
'Dhananjoyas got rid of by a blow[45]!' True it was, a single blow
had sufficed to get rid of them all, but his resources were
now exhausted.  What was to be done? How could he go on living
in such style? The small retail shopkeepers would not be put off
with excuses any more, and no one would supply him with anything
on credit: just too as the great bathing festival of the
_Snan Jatra_ was coming off. The expenses of engaging a _budgerow_
had to be provided: earnest money would have to be advanced to
the nautch girls: sweetmeats must be ordered: tobacco, _ganja_,
and liquor all had to be procured for the occasion; and for these
preliminary arrangements he had no money at his disposal. In such
anxious thoughts Matilall was wrapped when Bancharam and Thakchacha
arrived. After exchanging a few remarks, they said to Matilall:
"Well, sir! why this melancholy? It makes us quite sad to see
it. At your age you should be always lively and cheerful. Why this
anxiety? Fie! be merry."  Affected almost to tears by this sweet
language, Matilall told them all that was in his mind. Bancharam
said: "Why be so anxious on that account? Are we mere grass-cutters
that we cannot help you out of a difficulty? What brought us to
see you to-day was a splendid idea that has occurred to us. Within
a year you will have paid off all your liabilities, and be able to
enjoy yourself at your leisure, and your sons and your grandsons in
their turn will be able to play the rich man on a grand scale. Is
it not written in the _shástras_? --

'Lakshmi, fair goddess,
'Of commerce is queen.'

There is a fortune to be made in trade: by it people spring
to sudden affluence. Why, look at the numbers of people I have
known, -- many of them of very low origin and blessed with no
brains to speak of, -- who have sprang to sudden importance by
trade! It makes me quite envious to see them. What troubles me is
that we are wasting all our energies with only one string to our
bow. This is not as it should be! 'Chandi Charan gathers cow-dung
while Ram is riding on horseback[47].'"

_Matilall_.-- Ah, a brilliant notion! I am daily in need of
money. Does commerce flourish in the bazar, or does it grow in
an office? Is it merely the buying and selling that goes on in
a sweetmeat-maker's shop? My business will lack all importance
unless I am to be the chief agent of some English merchant.

_Bancharam_.-- You need only sit at home on the _guddee_,
sir! The burden of business will devolve entirely upon us. A
Mr. John, a friend of one Mr. Butler, has but recently arrived
from England. You might make some arrangement with him and become
his agent: he is a very shrewd business man.

_Thakchacha_.-- I shall be with you to help you, whether it be the
courts of law or the Treasury Office, or the police department,
or commerce. They none of them have any secrets for me: I know
all the ins and outs of them! My Shena also understands all these
matters. Ah, sir, it is a grief to me that my great capacity for
business has been lying dormant all this time! it has never been
roused into action or had full play. I am not the kind of man
to sit idle: if I find an enemy in my way, I promptly assault
him and put him to the rout. If I once put my hand to business
I shall get on like the famous Rustem Jol.

_Matilall_.-- And who is Shena, Thakchacha?

_Thakchacha_.-- Shena is your humble servant's wife. How can I
possibly extol her qualities adequately? Her beauty is as the
beauty of Zuleeka, and her understanding as that of an angel
of light.

_Bancharam_.-- Enough of this talk for the present: let us get
to business. We shall have to advance Mr. John ten or fifteen
thousand rupees, but there need be no risk. I have arranged to
find this money by mortgaging the Kotalpore Taluk. I will deposit
the necessary deeds in Mr. Butler's office: the expense will
not be very great; it will come to between four and five hundred
rupees.  Besides this, you have to give five hundred rupees to
the money-lender's _amlah_. Ah, those _amlahs_! they are our
mortal enemies: our enterprise may all come to nought if they
put any obstacle in our way. When we have smoothed away all the
preliminary difficulties, we shall find the auspices favourable for
our success.  I am just going off to Calcutta with Thakchacha. I
have a variety of commissions to execute, and shall be in a
fever till I have finished them. Do you, sir, for your part,
ascertain from friend Tarka Siddhanta a propitious day for the
commencement of the enterprise, and then come at once; under the
auspices of Durga, to my house in Sonagaji. You will have to remain
a few days in Calcutta; but only a short time will elapse before,
like Chand Sadagar, you will return to Vaidyabati Ghât with
seven[48] vessels laden with wealth, drums beating, young men and
old men, women and children, as they gaze on the splendour of your
return, greeting you with blessings. Oh, may the day speedily dawn!

Bancharam then proceeded on his way, and took Thakchacha with him.

Matilall reported the whole of the conversation to his
companions. They danced with delight when they heard it. Want of
means had almost entirely put an end to their fun. Now there was
every chance of the treasury being replenished.  Mangovinda at once
hurried off to the _tol_ of Tarka Siddhanta; he was puffing and
blowing with his exertions when he arrived there. Tarka Siddhanta
was a very old man. He was taking snuff, and alternately sneezing
and coughing; his pupils were ranged all round him; in front of
him lay a Sanscrit work written on a palm leaf. Every now and
then he would glance at the manuscript through his spectacles,
then give out a passage to his pupils and explain it to them. The
cow of the establishment had not had its rack supplied, there
being a scarcity of straw, and it lowed continuously. From
inside the house the wife of the old pandit was screaming: "The
old man is rapidly losing his wits: he does nothing, all day and
all night but mind his books: he never once turns his attention
to household matters." His pupils, hearing all this, nudged each
other and winked. Tarka Siddhanta flew into a towering rage, and
taking hold of a stick, with which to keep the old women quiet,
was just getting up very slowly and deliberately, when suddenly
Mangovinda caught hold of him, and said: "Oh, Tarka Siddhanta,
respected sir! we are all going into trade.  Do ascertain for us an
auspicious day." Tarka Siddhanta got up in great wrath, his face
distorted with passion. "A curse light upon you and your trade;
could you find no other time but when I had just risen from my
seat, to call me behind my back[49]?  So you will go into trade,
eh? May you and your father's house come to ruin, bad luck to
you. You want to know what day will be auspicious, eh?  When you
cease vexing people as you do, they will have their _Ganga Snan_
in peace. Off, away with you this minute! The day you clear out
of this will be the auspicious day." Somewhat disconcerted by
the old man's abuse, Mangovinda went and told his companions that
the next day would be auspicious.

Sounds of preparation straightway arose, and there was all the
bustle that attends arrangements for a festival: it was the
_Udjog Parba_ over again. While one of the party fixed the wire
for playing the _sitar_ on his fore-finger, another tested the
_baya_, tapping it to see whether it had any pitch or not: another
examined the _tabala_: another tightened the rings round the drums:
another put resin on a fiddle and tested the strings: another
packed up the clothes: another prepared small parcels of tobacco,
_ganja_ and other stimulants, along with bundles of firewood:
another selected, with great care, balls of opium and sweetmeats:
another examined the different purchases to see whether they were
of correct weight. All day and all night the bustle and noise
of preparation went on without any diminution. It had got about
in the village that the young Babus were about to go into trade,
and next day, when all the shopkeepers of the place, the poorer
sort of people, and the beggars and loafers, were out in the
roads looking out for them to pass, they came swaggering down to
the _ghât_, like so many wild elephants. There were a number of
pandits at the _ghât_ engaged in their early morning devotions:
hearing the stir and bustle, they looked behind them, and at
once shook with fright. Seeing them so terrified, the Babus only
jeered at them and laughed.  Then they showered upon them Ganges
mud and brick-bats, and insulted them generally, and the Brahmans,
interrupted in this rude way at their devotions, went their way,
calling upon Krishna in their distress. The young men having
embarked on board a boat, all caught up a popular love-song,
screaming it out at the top of their voices. The boat glided
quickly down stream on the ebb. The Babus could not keep still
for a moment; one would get on the deck of the cabin; another
would work the rudder; one would pull an oar, and another strike a
light with a flint. They had not gone very far when they met with
Dhanamala. Now Dhanamala never cared what he said to any one: he
called out to them: "Having reduced a whole village to ashes, are
you now going to set the Ganges on fire?" To which they angrily
replied: "Shut up, you idiot! Do you not know that we are all
going into business?" Dhanamala's only answer to this was:--
"If you ever become traders, may your business come to grief!
may it perish with a halter on its neck!"


CHAPTER XXIII.  MATILALL AT SONAGAJI.

AT Sonagaji there was a Mahommedan mosque: it had long since
become the abode of ghosts, and was everywhere covered with lichen,
while jungle crows and mynahs had built their nests in different
parts of it. These were now bringing food to their young ones,
who were chirping merrily. The mosque had been left unrepaired for
many a long day: the only sounds heard there at nightfall were
the cries of jackals and the howling of dogs: no one remembered
having ever seen a light in any part of it.

Near this ruin a village teacher used to instruct some of the
village children, whose necks were generally enveloped in woollen
comforters; and whatever the extent of the education they were
receiving, they were at least frightened put of their lives by the
sound of the cane. It was only necessary for a boy to lift his eyes
off his book, or to eat something out of his lap, for the stick to
fall at once with a whack on his shoulders. It is a human failing
for a man armed with authority in any matter, to think that he must
constantly display that authority in various ways lest his dignity
should suffer; and so it was that the old village school-master
loved to collect a crowd round him, in order to make a display
of his sovereignty. When he saw people going by, he would look
in their direction and raise his voice to its highest pitch,
and then, if a crowd collected, his self-importance increased
till there was no limit to it: no wonder therefore that there
was a very heavy punishment for any trifling fault on the part
of the boys. A village school under such a master pretty nearly
resembles the Hall of Yama. Besides the constant sounds of slapping
and screaming, and cries of "_Oh Guru Mahashay! Guru Mahashay!_
your pupil is present," one boy will get his nose tweaked, another
his ear pulled, another will have to carry a brick in one hand,
another will be caned, another may be strung up by his thumbs,
while a stinging nettle will be applied to another: some form of
punishment or other is continually in force[50]. The honour and
glory of Sonagaji used to be kept up solely by the village
school-master whom I have mentioned. Just on the outskirts of the
village, a few beggars, who had been at it all day long, used to
congregate in the evening, wearied by their day's labour, and lie
down, singing snatches of songs softly to themselves.

Such was Sonagaji. Since Matilall's auspicious arrival, however,
the destiny of the place had undergone a revolution: there was
all the stir and bustle attending a great man's movements: the
air was full of the prancing of horses, the loud beating of drums:
there was an eternal munching of delicate sweetmeats: feasting and
revelry went on unceasingly by night and by day, and the people
of the place began to prostrate themselves before the great man.

It is very difficult to know Calcutta people well: to the
outer world, many of them appear all that is respectable, like
mangoes with a fair outside. They can assume a vast variety of
characters. Money is at the bottom of all this: where that is
in question, countless are the shifts and turns resorted to.
Man's nature is so frail that he worships wealth out of all
proportion to its worth.  People make herculean efforts to become
recipients of the favour of any man reputed to be wealthy; and
whatever may be necessary for them to say or to do to accomplish
their object, there are no shortcomings on their part.

People of all grades took to visiting Matilall. Now there are
some men, like the Brahmans of Ula, who at once go to the point
with unblushing frankness, so that there is no mistaking their
meaning. Others, again, like the good people of Krishnaghar, expend
much ingenuity in embroidering their remarks, and only after a
good deal of beating about the bush will they introduce the real
object of their visit, and then very delicately. Others, like our
friends of Eastern Bengal, are very careful and deliberate in their
procedure: they at first assume an appearance of indifference and
disinterestedness, plunging their real object deep in the Dvaipara
Lake, and when after a long interval their special intention is
revealed, it turns out that the real object of all their coming and
going was after all a pecuniary one,-- some present or other that
might hereafter be exchanged for cash. Matilall had only to sigh,
and the visitor with him at the time would snap his fingers, by
way of warding off the evil omen: if he but sneezed, his visitor
would say: "May your life be prolonged." If Matilall called for a
servant, the sycophant would scream out: "Ho there! Ho there!" and
in answer to every remark of Matilall's, no matter what it was,
he would say: "Whatever your honour says must be right."

From early dawn till long after midnight people crowded about
Matilall: every single moment of the day they were either coming or
going: the staircase leading to his reception-room was constantly
creaking beneath the heavy tramp of their shoes. Every moment fresh
supplies of tobacco were arriving; smoke issued from the room at
all times as from the funnel of a steam ship: the servants were
so terribly worried, they were at their wits end. Night and day,
in one continuous succession, dancing, music and all sorts of
boisterous fun were kept up.

The dignity of the village school-master was quite eclipsed
by all this stir: till now he had been the turkey-cock; now he
had become but the tiny tailor-bird. There would be a good deal
of noise at times when he was teaching his boys, and Matilall,
hearing this one day, said to his companions:-- "Why is that idiot
making so much noise? I escaped in boyhood from the annoyance
of a school-master: why must have I another near me now? Away
with him quickly." The young Babus taking the hint, very soon
brought about the disappearance of the village school-master from
the scene by the simple expedient of throwing brickbats at him;
and the village school was in consequence broken up. The boys of
the school, thinking it a happy release, took up their bundles
of palm leaves, and having ridiculed their old school-master to
their heart's content, ran breathlessly home.

Just about this time, Mr. John opened his house of business: the
firm was known as John and Company. Matilall was the chief agent
of the house, Bancharam and Thakchacha managers. The Saheb showed
great attention to his chief agent for the sake of his money,
and the chief agent for his part would pay occasional visits to
the office with his companions. He generally came about three or
four in the afternoon, chewing _pán_, his eyes red and inflamed,
and after walking about and prying into everything, would go
home again. The Saheb had not a pice to his name, and depended
entirely upon Mr. Butler for his support: but he rented a house
in Chowringhee, and filled it with a great variety of furniture
and pictures: he also bought splendid carriages, fine horses
and dogs, all on credit, and amused himself training and running
race-horses. Later on he married, and frequented the best society
of the place, wearing a gold chain and a diamond ring. Seeing all
this display, many people were firmly persuaded that Mr. John
was a wealthy man, and had no hesitation in having monetary
transactions with him; but a few persons, of higher intelligence,
knowing the real state of his affairs, were more cautious, and
would have nothing to say to him. Many of the Calcutta merchants
get their living by brokerage: they may be either freight brokers,
or they may buy and sell Government paper or goods generally, their
commission being several rupees in every hundred. Many others,
acquainting themselves with the market prices current in Calcutta
and elsewhere, do affairs on their own account; but to manage
this, they must have already learned the details of business,
as otherwise their business cannot prosper.  Mr. John had no
capacity for business at all: he was persuaded that he only had
to purchase goods to dispose of them at a profit: as a matter of
fact, his only object was to enjoy himself and play the rich man
at the expense of others. He thought trade a very simple thing:
he only had to fire enough bullets, and game was sure to fall to
one or other.

The chief agent was even worse in this respect than the Saheb:
he was blankly ignorant, without any education to speak of, and
understanding nothing whatever of accounts: consequently, to do
business with him was so much lost labour.  _Mahajans_, brokers,
and shopkeepers were continually going to him with patterns of
their goods, informing him of the fluctuations in prices, and
giving him the latest market intelligence: all the time they
were talking business, he would be gazing vacantly about him,
completely at sea. He never answered any of their questions,
doubtless for fear that anything he might say would betray his
ignorance: he would refer them to Bancharam and Thakchacha.

There were a few clerks in the office, who kept all the accounts
in English.  Matilall having one day expressed a wish to have a
thorough examination of the English cash-book, had it fetched for
this purpose by one of the clerks, then having just looked into it
casually, shoved it aside. He generally occupied a room below the
office: this being rather damp, the cash-book, having been kept
there over a month, soon got completely ruined. The young Babus
too used to tear leaves out of it and twist them up into spills
for daily use; and very soon they were all used up in this way,
the cover only remaining. When search was afterwards made for it,
it was found to be the mere shadow of its former self: it was
reduced to a mere skeleton,-- bones and hide, as the saying is,
sacrificed in the service of others.

Mr. John bewailed and lamented the loss of his cash-book,
but kept his grief locked in his own breast. He exercised no
discrimination in the purchases he made, when he began to export
largely to England and to other countries, and took no trouble to
find out the real cost of the goods, or what would be the margin
of profit. Bancharam and Thakchacha saw their opportunity, and
made many a successful stroke of business for themselves: they
soon waxed fat on their gains[51]. A small draught is never
sufficient to relieve great thirst. These two, as they sat
together in secret consultation, had only one object in view,
and that was to increase their gains by every possible means in
their power. They well knew that the opportunity would never recur
again. The springtide of their gains would soon pass, and the
winter of want might come: no time like the present.

Within a year or two, very bad news arrived of the sale of the
goods: instead of a profit there would be a loss, which Mr. John,
to his confusion and dismay, estimated at a lakh of rupees. He had
himself been spending nearly a thousand rupees a month, and was
besides heavily in debt to several banks and money-lenders. For
some months past, indeed, the firm had only been kept going by
a variety of shifts: now the fair bark of outward respectability
was altogether swamped. It was impossible to keep up appearances
any longer, and it soon became notorious that John and Company
had failed. The Saheb went off with his wife to Chandernagore,
a place under French rule, to which, even to this day, debtors
and criminals betake themselves to escape imprisonment. The
money lenders and other creditors thereupon came down upon
Matilall. Look where he would, Matilall could see no way out
of his difficulties: he had not a single pice he could call his
own: he had been living entirely on credit. He could come to no
decision one way or the other at this juncture. He was constantly
on the look out for a visit from Bancharam Babu or Thakchacha,
but "confidence in a dear friend is as a knife in the left hand"
says an old proverb: it was idle to look for any aid from them:
they had vanished before the smash.

When the creditors were referred to them they only answered that
all the accounts were in Mati Babu's name: they had had no dealings
with the others, regarding them as agents only. Owing to all this
confusion in his affairs, Matilall fled one night in disguise
with his companions to Vaidyabati. The people of that place,
when the news reached them of the outcome of Matilall's trade
enterprises, all clapped their hands, and cried: "This is grand
news: there is still justice on the earth[52]: what meaning would
the terms right and wrong have, if such a fate had not befallen
so wicked a man,-- a man who has cheated mother, brother, and
sister,-- a man to whom no sinful action has come amiss?"

It so chanced that Premnarayan Mozoomdar was bathing the next
day at the Vaidyabati Ghât: seeing Tarka Siddhanta there, he
remarked to him: "Those wretched fellows, after having squandered
all their substance, have had to take to flight, to escape a
warrant for their apprehension, and have returned here: they are
not ashamed to appear in public again. A fine instrument for the
ruin of his family has Baburam bequeathed to the world." Tarka
Siddhanta replied: "The village has been tranquil all the time
those boys have been away: alas!  that they should have returned
at all. Had mother Ganga only shown us a little favour, how
happy we might have been!" Several other Brahmans were bathing
at the ghât at the same time: their teeth began to chatter in
terror when they heard the news of the return of the young Babus,
and they thought to themselves:-- "Henceforth we may expect to
have to confide into Sri Krishna's keeping our daily ablutions
and devotions." Some small shopkeepers, as they looked towards
the _ghât_ said:-- "Ah sir! we heard that drums would beat when
Mati Babu returned with his seven ships laden with treasure:
yet we cannot see so much as a fisherman's dinghy approaching
let alone a cargo-boat." Premnarayan replied:-- "Do not be
anxious; Mati Babu, like Srimanta Saudagor[53], has obtained a
place of temporary retirement, because of the difficulties caused
by Kamala Kamini. Is not the Babu a very estimable person? Is he
not the chosen son of the fair Lakshmi! His dinghies, his
cargo-boats, and his ships will soon appear, and you will hear the
sound of the drums, while preparing your parched rice and pulse."


CHAPTER XXIV.  THAKCHACHA APPREHENDED.

THE morning breeze was blowing softly: the _champac_, the
_sephalika_, and the _mallika_ were diffusing sweet odours
abroad: birds were chirping merrily. Beni Babu had taken Barada
Babu home with him to his house in Ghatak, and was engaged in
converse with him, when suddenly to the south of where they were,
the dogs began to bark violently, and some boys came laughing
loudly along the road.  During a temporary lull, they heard the
charming accents of a nasal voice, expostulating with the boys,
and singing a Vaishnava song:--

"In Brindabun's woods, and the sweet-scented bowers
"Of Brindabun's maidens, O waste not your hours."

Rising from their seats, Beni Babu and Barada Babu saw that it
was Becharam Babu of Bow Bazar who had just arrived: he was rapt
in his song, and was snapping his fingers by way of accompaniment:
dogs were barking about him, and boys laughing derisively, and the
man of Bow Bazar had been angrily expostulating with them. Beni
Babu and Barada Babu greeted him very courteously and invited him
to be seated. When they had enquired after each other's welfare,
Becharam Babu, putting his hand on Barada Babu's shoulder, said to
him:-- "My good friend, I have seen a great many people in my day
since I was a boy, and many of them possessed of good qualities,
but after all I can only regard them as moderately good, their
standard little above the average.  Be that as it may, I have never
seen anyone with modesty, sincerity, moral courage, simplicity and
straightforwardness, equal to yours. I am somewhat modest myself;
but still there are occasions when my pride manifests itself:
the sight of another man's pride is sufficient to evoke it, and
with the manifestation of my pride my anger rises, and my pride
is increased still more by my anger. I can never abate a jot of
my claims on others. I always say what comes uppermost in my mind,
but to tell you the truth, I am never sincere enough to be willing
to acknowledge openly any mean action I may have been guilty of,
for I always fear that I may have to endure mortification, if
I acknowledge the truth. I have a very limited amount of moral
courage: I may be convinced in my own mind that I ought to take a
particular course, but I lack the moral courage to act uniformly
up to my convictions. I find it very difficult, too, to maintain
a straightforward attitude in dealing with others.  True, I am
aware that a man should always exert himself for the welfare of
mankind, but I find it very hard to carry the conviction into
actual practice.  It is only necessary for a man to speak harshly
to me for me to lose all respect for him, and to regard him as
utterly beneath contempt. Now a man may have done you an actual
injury, but your feelings towards him are still sincere and kind. I
mean to say, that you would never think of doing him an injury,
but on the contrary a kindness; and even abuse does not make you
angry. Can qualities such as these be considered trifling?"

_Barada_.-- Any man who loves another sees nothing but good
in him, whereas a man who cannot know another intimately
only misinterprets his conduct. It is pure kindness on your
part to speak as you have of me: it cannot be owing to my own
qualities. It is well-nigh an impossibility for man to maintain
a mind that shall be simple and honest at all times, in all
respects, and towards all men.  Our minds are full of passion,
envy, malice, and pride, and is it an easy task to hold all these
in restraint? If one's character is to be simple and unaffected,
humility is the one thing necessary. Some persons display a mock
modesty: some are made humble by fear, others by trouble and
misfortune.  Humility of this kind is but transient. If humility
is to be an enduring and permanent quality, such sentiments as
these should be firmly fixed in our minds.  Our Creator, He is
all-powerful, omniscient, without spot, or stain: ourselves, we
are here to-day, gone to-morrow. Our strength, what is it? Our
learning, what is it? Every moment of our lives we are subject
to error, evil thoughts and evil deeds: where then is the ground
for pride? Such humility as this being implanted in the mind,
passion, envy, malice, and pride, all are dwarfed, and the mind
becomes simple and sincere. Where this is the case, we derive
no pleasure from a display of our own learning or intelligence,
our own pride of wealth or place, which can only anger others;
neither is our envy excited by the sight of the prosperity of
others. We have no desire, either to abuse others, or to think
meanly of them neither does an injury we may have received from
another arouse our anger, or hatred against him. Our thoughts are
directed solely to the purification of our own minds, or to other's
welfare. But much harsh self-discipline is necessary before this
result can be attained. It is wonderful, the pride that springs
up in the mind of the man possessed of but a modicum of wit: his
own words, his own deeds, stand forth, in the estimation of such
a man, as superior to those of all others; nothing that others
may say or do is worthy of the slightest attention on his part.

_Becharam_.-- Ah, my dear friend, how it refreshes me to hear you
talk! I have been all along wishing to have such an opportunity.

Their conversation was suddenly interrupted by the harried arrival
of Premanarayan Mozoomdar, with the news that the Calcutta police
had apprehended Thakchacha and taken him off to prison. Becharam
Babu was immensely delighted when he heard the news, and exclaimed:
"This is indeed good news to me." Barada Babu was astounded, and
fell into deep thought. Becharam Babu said to him: "Why are you
so deep in thought? Why, there is nobody I know who would not be
delighted if so wicked a man were to be transported."

_Barada_.-- What grieves me is the thought that the man from
his youth upwards should have done evil and not good. Besides,
there is his family to think of: they will die of starvation if
he is put in chains.

_Becharam_.-- Ah, my good friend! why do people reverence you
but for all your qualities? Thakchacha never lost an opportunity
of maligning and injuring you: he never ceased insulting and
abusing you. Why, it was he who fabricated that charge of illegal
confinement and assault against you, and he made every effort
to press the charge home by means of forgery. And yet there is
not a trace of anger or enmity in your mind against him on that
account. The very meaning of retaliation is unknown to you. Your
idea of retaliation was to restore him and his family to health
again when they fell sick, by administering medicines, and by
unremitting attention on your part; and even now all your anxiety
is for his family. Ah, my dear friend, you may be a Kayasth in
caste, but I should be willing to take the dust off the feet of
such a Kayasth and put it on my head!

_Barada_.-- Do not, sir, I pray you, talk like this to me. I am
contemptible, and of no reputation amongst men, and am in no way
worthy of your praise. Ah, sir!  if you keep on saying this to me,
my pride will increase.

Meanwhile, in Vaidyabati, a police sergeant, some constables,
and an inspector, were hurrying Thakchacha, his arms tied behind
his back, away to prison. A great crowd had collected in the
streets. One man said, quoting an old proverb:-- "As the deed,
so the fruit." Another man exclaimed:-- "We shall never have any
peace until the wretch is put on boardship and transported." While
another remarked:-- "My only fear is that he may after all get
off, and become as mischievous as ever."

As, with head bent low, beard fluttering in the breeze, and eyes
glaring, Thakchacha was going along with the police, he quietly
offered the sergeant half a rupee to loose his bonds: the sergeant
had a capacious paunch, and at once tossed the half rupee away
in contempt. Thakchacha then said to him: "Take me for a short
time to Mati Babu: get him to give bail: let me go for a day only,
I will put an appearance to-morrow." The sergeant only replied:
"You jabbering idiot: you will get a smack on the face, if you
speak to me again." Thakchacha then folded his hands in humble
supplication before the sergeant, and begged and prayed to be let
off. The sergeant refused to listen to him, and put him into a
boat; About four o'clock in the afternoon he arrived with him at
the police court; but as the police magistrate had left the court
by that time, Thakchacha had to spend the night in the lock-up.

Matilall, when he heard of the evil plight of Thakchacha, became
very anxious for himself. He dreaded the fall of the thunderbolt
in his direction.  Thakchacha having been caught, his turn he
thought was safe to come next: the whole affair, he imagined, was
connected with John Company, but anyhow extreme caution on his
part was necessary. Acting upon this determination, he fastened
the main door of the house very securely. Ramgovinda said to him:
"Thakchacha has been apprehended, sir, on a charge of forgery:
if there had been a warrant out against you, your house would
have been surrounded long ago: why entertain such causeless
alarm?" Matilall replied. "Ah! none of you understand: unluckily
for me misfortunes are cropping up all round me: as the old proverb
has it, 'The burnt _shal_ fish has slipped out of my hands.' If I
can only get through to-day somehow or other, I will go off the
first thing to-morrow to my estates in the Jessore district. It
is not safe for me to remain at home any longer: I am encompassed
with portents, obstacles, fears, and misfortunes of every kind,
and besides all this my money is all gone, my hand is mere dust."

Just as he had finished speaking, there was a loud knocking at
the door, and somebody shouted out: "Open the door, friend! Ho
there! Is there anybody there?" Matilall said very quietly:
"Hush! just what I expected has happened."  Mangovinda peeped out
from above, and saw a messenger pushing away at the door: he went
quietly to Matilall and said to him: "It is high time for you
to be off, sir! you had better get away at once; I rather fancy
that a second warrant has come in connection with Thakchacha's
case. Who can foresee the end of a spark of fire? If you can find
no other deserted spot, go and get into the dirty tank at the
back door, and stand like a pillar in the middle, as did King
Durryodhan." Dolgovinda said: "Why anticipate evil? why swamp
the boat at the first sight of waves? Find out the true state of
affairs first: if you wait a second I will make enquiries." Saying
this, he called out: "Ho there! you messenger! from what court
have you come?" The messenger replied, "Sir, I have brought a
letter from Mr. John," and saying, "Here, take the letter!" he
threw it up to them. They all shouted "Aha! we are saved! we
breathe again!" Then Haladhar and Gadadhar, who were behind the
others, caught up the refrain:-- "Protect us, O Lord, in this
world." The news to the young Babus was like an autumn cloud:
it was rain, it was sun, it was warmth, it was joy. Matilall
enjoined them to be quiet a little and asked for the letter,
telling them that it was possible that some other opportunity for
trade might be presenting itself. When he had opened the letter,
the young Babus all stooped over him: there were a good many heads
collected together, but not an atom of learning amongst the lot
of them: reading the letter was a sore trial to them.  At last
they had a man called from the house of a neighbour of theirs,
a Kayasth, and they ascertained the substance of the letter to be
that Mr. John was almost starving, and that he was very badly in
want of money. Mangovinda remarked:-- "What a shameless wretch! So
much money already thrown into the deep on his account, and yet he
does not leave us alone; I like his impudence!" Dolgovinda said:
"It is a very good thing to have an Englishman in our power,
for their luck is sure to turn[54]: there are times when a handful
of mud in their hands may become a handful of gold." Matilall
said to them: "Why are you chattering like this? You may cut
me up and not find any blood in me: you may whittle me away,
and get no flesh off me."

One evening, about this time, Becharam Babu, having crossed over
from Bally, was proceeding along in a northerly direction in a
_gharry_. He was singing a song, the refrain of which was--

"Mahadev! thou, by thy great might,
"Upholdest, all things day and night."

Bancharam Babu was driving his buggy from a southerly direction:
when the two were alongside each other, they both peeped out to
see who was passing. As soon as Bancharam caught the outline of
Becharam's figure, he whipped up his horse.  Becharam thereupon,
holding the door of his _gharry_ tight with his hand, put his head
hurriedly out of the window and shouted out: "Ho! Bancharam! Ho
Bancharam!" Upon this summons, the buggy was brought to a stop, and
the _gharry_ drew up to it with many a creak and a groan. Becharam
Babu then said to Bancharam: "Aha, Bancharam! you are indeed a
lucky fellow! The vessel of your gains is like Ravan's funeral
pile, ever blazing[55]. At one stroke you have successfully carried
out your trade ventures. Your friend and ally, Thakchacha, is
now ruined; and I fancy that even out of that circumstance some
trifling gain will accrue to you, perhaps the price of a goat's
head. But you have only worked your own future ruin by all your
_vakeel's_ practices and stratagems; Has this thought, that you
must die some time or other, never occurred to you?" Bancharam
Babu was exceedingly angry at all this: he frowned and bit his
moustache in his vexation, and venting his rage on his horse's
back, drove away.


CHAPTER XXV.  MATILALL IN JESSORE.

THE _taluk_ that belonged to Baburam Babu in Jessore had been more
profitable to him than all his other estates. At the time of the
Permanent Settlement the land on that portion of the property had
been mostly uncultivated, and the rent of it had been fixed at
one rate; but once under tillage, it became very productive and
was let out in fields: in fact it proved so fertile that hardly
any portion of it remained common land or waste.

At one period the ryots, after cultivating it for some time,
used to make large profits by a succession of crops of different
sorts, but they were now in a very bad way, owing to oppression
on the part of the proprietor of the estate, acting entirely on
Thakchacha's advice. Many of the _lakherajdars_, finding that
their lands had been included in the estates of the zemindar,
and not having any proofs of possession, came now and again
to give their customary offerings to the zemindar, and then
gradually left the estate altogether. Many of the headmen of the
different villages, too, finding themselves disturbed in their
possession by forgeries and oppression, abandoned their rights
to their own lands, without getting any compensation, and fled
to other estates. So it came about that for a space of two or
three years the income of the _taluk_ had considerably increased,
and Thakchacha would remark to Baburam in a swaggering tone: "See
how great my power is!" But, says the old Sanscrit proverb;--
"The course of virtue is a very delicate thing." Within a very
short time, many of the ryots, alarmed at the state of affairs,
left the estates, taking with them their draught cattle and their
seed-grain, and it became very difficult to let their land: they
were all afraid that the proprietor would, either by force or by
craft, seize upon the little profits they might make, and that the
toil and labour of cultivation would be carried on at the risk of
their lives: what was the use then, they argued, of remaining any
longer on the estate? The _naib_ of the estate, for all his soft
language and insinuating address, could not succeed in calming them
down. So it was that a good deal of land remained unlet, and nobody
could be found willing to take it even at a low rent: much less
would anyone take it at a fixed permanent rent. The proprietor
had now some difficulty in raising the revenue from it when he
took it into his own hands, and paid labourers to cultivate it.
The _naib_ kept the proprietor constantly informed of the state
of affairs, and he would write back the customary reply;-- "If
the revenue is not collected, as it always has been hitherto,
you will have to starve, and no excuse will be attended to." Now
there are times when severity, under special circumstances,
may be of avail; but what can it profit when misfortunes have
occurred entirely beyond its reach? In this dilemma, the _naib_
went about his duties, anxious and perplexed. Meanwhile, as
the revenue had fallen into arrears for some two or three years
past, an order was issued for a sale of the property; in order to
save his property, Baburam Babu had paid the Government revenue,
borrowing money by a mortgage upon the land.

Matilall now came and took up his abode on this estate, accompanied
by his band of boon companions. His intention had been to get all
the money he could out of the _taluk_ to pay off his debts with,
and so keep up his state and dignity. The Babu had never seen a
paper connected with estate management, and was entirely ignorant
of the ordinary terms used in keeping estate accounts. When the
_naib_ said to him one day: "Just look, sir, for a moment at these
different heads of the records;" he would not even glance at the
papers, but gazed vacantly in the direction of a tree near the
office. On another occasion, the _naib_ said to him: "Sir, there
are so many Khodkast and so many Paikast tenants." "Don't talk to
me," said the Babu, "of Khodkast and Paikast, I will make them all
Ek-kast[56]."  When the tenants heard of the arrival of the
proprietor of the estate at his head-quarters, they were delighted,
and said to each other: "Ah, now that that old wretch of a
Mussulman has gone, our destiny after all these days has changed
its course!" And so these poor empty-handed, empty-stomached and
poverty-stricken tenants came with joyous and confident faces,
to offer him the customary gifts, making profound obeisance the
while. Matilall, enraptured by the jingling sound of the silver,
smiled softly to himself. Then the ryots, seeing the Babu so happy
and cheerful, began to shout out their various grievances. "Somebody
has removed my boundary mark, and ploughed up my land," said
one. "Somebody has put his own pots on my date palm, and stolen all
my toddy," said another. "Somebody has loosed his cattle into my
garden," exclaimed another, "and they have done a lot of damage
in it." "My grain has all been eaten up by somebody or other's
ducks," cried another. Another said, "I have brought back the
money I borrowed upon a promissory note; please give me my bond
back." "I have cut down and sold some _babul_ trees" said another,
"and as I wish to repair my house, please pass an order to have
the fourth part of the price remitted to me." Another said, "My
land has not been properly made over to me yet: the old tenant's
name has not been cut out of the deed: I shall be unable to give
the customary offering till this is done." And another cried out,
"The present measurement of the land in my occupation is short:
allow me to pay rent in proportion, or else let another measurement
be made." Such were some of the grievances the ryots gave vent to,
but Matilall, not understanding in the least their purport, remained
sitting like a painted doll. The young Babus, his companions, made
fan of the strange sounds, which they had never heard the like of
before, and made the office ring with their laughter, striking up
a song the refrain of which ran:--

"A bird is soaring in the air:
"Oh, let me count its feathers rare!"

The _naib_ was like a log, and the ryots sat round in utter
dejection, resting their heads on their hands. Where the master is
a competent man, there is not much chance of the servant carrying
on his tricks. The _naib_, seeing how utterly dense Matilall was,
soon began to show himself in his true colours.  The proprietor
being altogether incompetent to enter into the numerous cases
that had come before him, his agent threw dust in his eyes, to
effect his own ends; and the ryots soon got to know that to have
an interview with the Babu was a mere waste of breath. The _naib_
was wholly master.

The high-handedness of the indigo planters of Jessore had greatly
increased at this time. The ryots had no mind to sow indigo,
as more profit was to be got out of rice and other crops, and
besides, any of them who chanced to go to an indigo factory to get
an advance, was ruined once for all. True, the ryots cultivating
indigo at their own risk might clear off the advances made to them,
but their accounts would go hanging on and increase, yearly and the
maw of the planter's _gomashtha_, and the other people about the
factory, was never satisfied with a little. Any ryot therefore who
had once drank of the sweet waters of an advance from the factory,
never, to the end of his life, got out of its power. But it would
be a heavy calamity to the planter if his indigo were not ready:
the working expenses of the factory were annually advanced by one
or other of the merchant firms in Calcutta, and if his wares were
not forthcoming, his expenses would be very largely increased:
the factory might even have to be closed, and the planter be
compelled to retire from the concern. These English managers
might be very ordinary sort of people in their own country, but
at their factories they lorded it like kings. Their great fear
was lest obstacles should be put in the way of the working of
their concerns, and they, in consequence, should become as mean
as mice[58] again: naturally, therefore, they exerted themselves to
the utmost, by all the means in their power and at all seasons,
to have their indigo ready in time.

One day, Matilall was amusing himself with his companions. The
_naib_, with spectacles on his nose, had just opened his office,
and was busily engaged in writing, drying the ink on his papers
with lime, when suddenly some ryots came running up, shouting:
"Sir! those brutes from the factory have ruined us entirely! the
manager has come on our land in person, and is now ploughing
over some of our sown lands, and he has taken off our draught
cattle. Oh sir!  the brute is not content with destroying all
our seed, he must needs too have his barrows drawn over our ripe
paddy." The _naib_ at once assembled about a hundred _paiks_, and,
hurrying off to the scene, saw the planter, with his sun-helmet on
his head, a cheroot in his mouth, and a gun in his hand, standing
there, and, urging on his men. Upon the _naib_ approaching him,
and gently remonstrating, the planter only called out to his men:
"Drive them all off, and beat them well." The men on both sides
thereupon wielded their clubs, and the planter himself hurried
forward, quite prepared to fire. The _naib_ slipped off, and
concealed himself in a hedge of wild cotton. After the fight had
lasted a considerable time, the zemindars' people fled, some of
them badly wounded. The planter, after this exhibition of his
might went off to his factory in great glee, while the ryots
returned to their homes, crying out for justice, and exclaiming,
amid their tears: "We are ruined: we are utterly undone." The
indigo planter proceeded home to his factory after the row,
his dog running before him and playing, poured himself out some
brandy and soda, and drank it, whistling the while, and singing
-- "Taza ba Taza". He knew that it was hard to control him;
the magistrate and the judge constantly dined at his house,
and the police and the people about the courts held him in great
awe because of his associating so much with them! Besides even if
there was any investigation made, in a case of homicide, his trial
could not take place in the Mofussil courts. Any black people
accused of homicide or any other great offence, would always be
tried and sentenced in the local courts; whereas any white man
accused of such offences would be sent up to the Supreme Court; in
which case the witnesses or complainants in the case being quite
helpless owing to the expense, trouble, and loss their business
that would be entailed, would fail to put to in an appearance;
and naturally, when the cases against such persons came on for
trial at the High Court, they would be dismissed.

It happened just as the indigo planter had anticipated. Early next
morning the police inspector came and surrounded the zemindar's
offices.  Weakness is a great calamity: in the presence of a
man of might, the poor man is powerless.  When Matilall saw the
state of affairs, he withdrew inside his house, and secured the
doors. The _naib_ then approached the inspector, and having
arranged matters by a heavy bribe, got most of the prisoners
set free.  The inspector had been blustering loudly, but as soon
as he received the money, it was as though water had fallen on
fire: having completed his investigation, he made a report to the
magistrate, exonerating both parties -- actuated on the one hand
by avarice, on the other by fear. The planter was at the same time
busily engaged in arranging the affair, and the magistrate for
his part was firmly convinced that the indigo planter, being an
Englishman, and a Christian to boot, would never do what was wrong;
it was only the black folk who did all the mischief.  This was an
opportunity the _sheristadar_ and the _peshkar_ did not neglect:
they took a heavy bribe from the indigo planter, and suppressing
the depositions of the opposite party, read only the depositions
of the party they favoured themselves: thus by very delicate
and skilful manoeuvring, they succeeded in their object. The
indigo planter seized the opportunity to address the court:--
"Ever since I came to this place, I have been conferring endless
benefits on the Bengalis: I have spent a great deal upon their
education and upon medical treatment for them; how can such an
accusation be brought against me? The Bengalis are very ungrateful,
and very troublesome." The magistrate, having heard everything,
proceeded to tiffin: he drank a good deal of wine after tiffin,
and came into court again, smoking a cheroot. When the case came
on again, the magistrate looked at the papers before him as if they
had been so many tigers, evidently wishing to have nothing more to
do with, them, and said all at once to the _sheristadar_: "Dismiss
this case." The planter's face beamed again with delight, and he
glared at the _naib_, who went slowly away, his head bent low,
and his whole frame trembling, exclaiming as he went: "Ah, it has
become very difficult for Bengalis to retain their zemindaries! the
country has been ruined by the violence of the brutal planter: the
ryots are all calling out in fear for protection: the magistrates
are entirely under the influence of their own countrymen, and
the laws are so administered as to provide the indigo planter
with many paths of escape. People say that it is the oppression
of the zemindars that has ruined the ryot: that is a very great
error. The zemindars may oppress the ryot, but they do keep him
alive after their fashion: his ryots are to the zemindar his field
of _beguns_.  Very different is the action of the indigo planter;
it does not much matter to him whether the ryots live or die:
all he cares about is to extend the cultivation of indigo: to
him the ryots are but a common field of roots."


CHAPTER XXVI.  THAKCHACHA IN JAIL.

SLEEP will never come when fear and anxiety have entered the
mind. Thakchacha was exceedingly uncomfortable in the lock-up:
he had thrown himself on a blanket, and was tossing restlessly
from side to side: now and again he got up to see what hour of
the night it was. Whenever he heard the sound of carriage-wheels,
or a voice, he imagined it must be daybreak: he kept getting
up in a hurry, and saying to the sepoy guard: "Friends, how far
advanced is the night?" They were very angry, and said to him:
"Ho, you there! the gun will not be fired for two or three hours
yet! Keep quiet now; why do you keep on disturbing us like this
every hour?" Thakchacha, at these words, began to toss about on
his blanket again. Conflicting emotions rose in his mind, and he
revolved a variety of plans: his reflections continually taking
this turn;-- "Why have I been so long conversant with craft and
trickery? Where is now the money that I have earned in this way? I
have nothing left of all my sinful gains. The only result, so far
as I can see, is that I got no sleep at night for fear of being
detected in some crime or other. I lived in constant terror: if
the leaves of a tree only shook, I imagined some one was coming
to apprehend me.  How often did my sister-in-law's husband,
Khoda Buksh, warn me against all this trickery and craft! His
words to me were: 'It would be much better for you if you would
get your living by agriculture or trade or service: you can come
to no harm so long as you walk in the straight path: by such a
course you will keep body and mind alike in sound health.' And
Khoda Buksh, because he does himself walk thus, is happy. Alas
I why did I not listen to his words? How shall I find a release
from this present calamity? Unless I can secure a pleader or a
barrister, I shall never succeed in doing so. But if there is
no evidence against me, I cannot possibly be punished. How will
they find out where the forgery was committed, or who committed
it?" He was still revolving all these thoughts in his mind when
the day began to break, and then from sheer weariness he fell
asleep. Soon however he began to dream about his many misfortunes,
and to talk in his sleep. "Ah Bahulya! take care that no one
gets a glimpse of the pencil, the pen and the other instruments:
they are all in the tank in the house at Sialdah: they will be
quite safe there: be very careful now not to take them out again,
and get off yourself as soon as you can to Faridpore; I will meet
you there, when I have been set free."

It was now morning, and the rays of the sun fell through the
venetians full on Thakchacha's beard. The _jemadar_ of the
lock-up had been standing near Thakchacha, and had heard all he
said. He now shouted: "Ho, you old rascal! what! have you been
asleep all this time? Get up, you have revealed all your secrets
yourself." Thakchacha got up in a great flurry, and rubbing his
eyes, his nose, and his beard with his hand, commenced repeating
his prayers: and again, he looked at the _jemadar_ with eyes
half-open, and then closed again. The _jemadar_ frowned, and said:
"You are a fine hypocrite, you are! sitting there with a whole
sack of virtue! Well, well! your virtue will be fully manifest
when we have taken the instruments out of the tank at Sialdah." At
these words Thakchacha trembled all over like a plantain leaf,
and said: "Ah, sir! I have a heavy fever on me; hence the lies
I told in my sleep." "Well," replied the _jemadar_, "we shall soon
know the meaning of all you have said: get ready at once." With
these words, he departed.

As soon as it struck ten, the officers of the court took Thakchacha
and the other accused into court. Bancharam had been walking up
and down the police court with Mr. Butler, long before nine. He
was thinking -- "If we can only get Thakchacha off this time,
we may still secure a good deal of business through his agency:
he is an extremely useful person in many ways, through his
power of talking people over, and his special knowledge and
experience in every kind of business, legal or otherwise; but I
have always for myself acted, on the principle;-- 'No rupees,
no investigation' I cannot, as the saying is, 'drive away the
wild buffalo at my own expense;' and again, as another saying has
it, 'I have sat down to dance, why then a veil?' Why conceal my
sentiments? Besides, Thakchacha has bled a good many people, what
harm then in bleeding him? But a good deal of skill is necessary
to get the flesh of a crow[59] to eat, and it will not be easy to
make anything out of so wary an individual as Thakchacha." Mr.
Butler, seeing Bancharam so absent-minded, asked him what he was
anxious about. Bancharam replied: "Ah, dear Saheb, I am thinking
how to get money to enter my house!" Mr. Butler, who had moved
away a little distance, exclaimed: "A capital idea, capital."

As soon as he saw Thakchacha, Bancharam ran up to him, and
catching hold of his hands said to him, with tears in his eyes:
"Ah, what a misfortune this is! I sat up the whole of last night
in consequence of the bad news; not once did I close my eyes,
and after I had in a fashion performed my religious duties, I
slipped away before daylight, and brought the Saheb with me. But
why be afraid? Am I a mere child that you cannot trust me? A
man's life has many vicissitudes: moreover, it is the big tree[60]
that the storm strikes! But no investigation can be made, and
nothing done, unless money is forthcoming: I have none with me:
but if you would have some of your wife's heavy ornaments fetched,
business can proceed: only get off scot-free this time, and you
will get plenty of jewelry afterwards." It is very hard for a man
who has fallen into any misfortune to deliberate calmly. Thakchacha
at once wrote off a letter to his wife. Bancharam took the letter
and with a wink and a smile at Mr. Butler handed it to a messenger,
saying: "Run with all speed to Vaidyabati, get some heavy ornaments
from Thakchacha's wife, and return here or to the office in the
twinkling of an eye; and look you, be very careful how you bring
the ornaments! Look sharp, be off like a shot." The messenger
testily replied: "It is easier said than done, sir! I have to get
out of Calcutta first, then I have to get to Vaidyabati and then
find Thakchacha's wife. I shall have to wander and stumble about
in the dark, and besides, I have not yet had my bath, let alone
a morsel of food: how can I possibly get back to-day?" Bancharam
lost his temper and abused the man, saying: "The lower orders are
all alike: each acts as he thinks proper: courtesy is wasted upon
them: there is no hurrying them up without kicks and blows! People
can go as far as Delhi when they have an object in view: cannot
you then go as far as Vaidyabati, do your business, and come back
again? You know the proverb: 'A hint is sufficient for a wise man:'
now I have actually had to poke my finger into your eye, and yet
you have not had wit enough to see." The messenger hung his head
down, and without saying a word in reply, went slowly off like a
jaded horse, muttering as he went: "What have poor persons to do
with respect or disrespect? I most put up with it in order to live,
but when will the day arrive when the Babu will fall into the same
snare as Thakchacha? I know that he has ruined hundreds of people
and hundreds of homes, and hundreds he has rendered houseless and
destitute. Ah indeed, I have seen a good many attorneys' agents,
but never a match for this man! See the sort he is!  a man who can
swear black is white, a man who can compass anything he likes by
his trickery and craft, and yet all the time keeps up his daily
religious duties, his Dol Jatra and his Durga Pujah, his alms to
the Brahmans and his devotions to his guardian deity! Bad luck
to such Hinduism as his, the unmitigated scoundrel!"

Meanwhile Thakchacha, Bancharam and Mr. Butler had all taken
their seats: the case had not yet been called on, and their
impatience only increased with the delay. Just as it struck
five o'clock, Thakchacha was placed before the magistrate, and
soon saw that the instruments wherewith he had committed the
forgery had been brought into court from the tank at Sialdah,
and that some villagers from that quarter were also present in
court. After examination into the case, the magistrate passed
these orders:-- "The case must be sent up to the High Court:
the prisoner cannot be admitted to bail: he must be imprisoned in
the Presidency Jail." As soon as these orders had been passed,
Bancharam ran up quickly, and shaking the prisoner by the hand,
said: "What cause for alarm is there? You don't take me for a
child that you cannot trust me? I knew all along that the case
would go up to the High Court: that is just what we want."

Thakchacha's face looked all at once pinched and withered from
anxiety. The constable seized him by the arms, dragged him roughly
down, and sent him off to the jail[61]. Thakchacha proceeded along,
his fetters clanging as he went, and his throat parched, without
so much as lifting up his eyes, for fear of seeing somebody who
might recognise and jeer at him.

It was evening when Thakchacha first put his foot into that
'House of Beauty,' -- the Presidency Jail. All those who are in
for debt or civil cases are imprisoned on one side, those who
are in on criminal charges on the other; and after trial they
may have either to work out a fixed sentence there, or grind
_soorkey_ in the mill-house, or else chains and fetters may be
their lot.  Thakchacha had to remain on the criminal side of
the jail. As soon as he entered, the prisoners all surrounded
him. Thakchacha looked closely at them, but could not recognise
a single acquaintance amongst them. The prisoners exclaimed: "Ah,
Munshi Ji! what are you staring at? You are in the same plight as
we are: come then, let us associate together." Thakchacha replied:
"Ah, gentlemen I have fallen into unmerited trouble! I have taken
nothing from any man: I have touched nothing belonging to any man:
it is but a turn of the wheel of fortune." One or two of the old
offenders said: "Ha! And is that really so? A good many people
get overwhelmed by false charges." One rough fellow said harshly:
"Are we to suppose then that the charge against you is false,
while those against ourselves are true? Ha! what a virtuous
and eloquent man has come amongst us! Be careful, my brothers;
this bearded fellow is a very cunning sort of individual."
Thakchacha at once became more modest, and began to depreciate
himself, but they were long engaged in a wrangle on the subject:
any trifling matter will serve when people have nothing else to
do, as a peg whereon to hang an argument.

The jail had been shut for the night: the prisoners had had their
food and were preparing, to lie down to sleep. Thakchacha was
just on the point of seizing this opportunity to throw into his
mouth some sweetmeats he had brought with him tied up in his
waistcloth, when suddenly two of the prisoners, low fellows,
with whiskers, hair and eyebrows all white, came up behind him
and snatched away the vessel containing the sweetmeats, laughing
loudly and harshly the while. They just showed them to the
others, then tossed them into their mouths, and demolished them,
coming close up to Thakchacha as they ate, and jeering at him.
Thakchacha remained perfectly dumb, and keeping the insult to
himself, got quietly on to his sleeping mat, and lay down.


CHAPTER XXVII.  THE TRIAL AT THE HIGH COURT.

THE cutting of the rice-crops had already begun in the
Soonderbunds: boats were constantly coming and going with their
loads. There was water everywhere: here and there were raised
bamboo platforms to serve as refuges whence the ryots could watch
their crops; but, for all their produce the people were no better
off. On the one hand there was the _mahajan_, who made them
advances, to be satisfied, on the other, the zemindar's _paik_
with his extortion: if they succeeded in selling their crops
well, they might perhaps have two full meals a day, otherwise
all they had to depend upon was fish or vegetables, or what
they could earn as day labourers. On the higher lands only the
autumn rice-crops are grown, the spring crops being generally
raised on the lower lands. Rice is very easily grown in Bengal,
but the crops have many obstacles to contend with: they are
liable to destruction from excess of rain and from want of it;
then there are the locusts and all kinds of destructive insects,
and the late autumn storms: the rice-crop, moreover, requires
continual attention for without very great care being exercised,
blight attack the plants.  Bahulya, after looking after his little
property all the morning, was sitting in his verandah smoking,
a bundle of papers before him. Near him were seated certain
scoundrels of the deepest dye, and some persons connected with
the courts: the subject of their conversation was the law as
administered by the magistrate, and certain suits-at-law then
pending. One of the men was hinting at the necessity of getting
some fresh documents prepared and some additional witnesses
suborned: another was loudly applauding his successful devices,
as he unfastened rupees from his waistcloth. Bahulya himself
seemed somewhat absent-minded and kept looking about him in all
directions: now and again, he gave some trivial orders to his
cultivators. "Ho there! lift that pumpkin on to the _machan_"
"Spread those bundles of straw in the sun." Then again he would
gaze all about him, evidently restless and agitated. One of the
company remarked: "Moulvi Saheb! I have just heard some bad
news about Thakchacha. Is there not likely to be some trouble?"
Bahulya had no wish to tell any of his secrets, so shaking his
head from side to side he replied in a light sententious manner:
"Man is encompassed about with every danger; why should you be
in any fear?"  Another man remarked: "That is all very true, but
Thakchacha is a very clever man: he will escape from the danger
by the mere force of his intelligence. But be that as it may, we
shall be very glad if no calamity befalls you: we have no allies,
no resources save you, in this Bhowanipore. Talk of our strength,
of our wisdom; why, you are all in your own person: if you were
not here we should have to remove our abode hence. It was most
fortunate for me that you fabricated those papers for me, for I
managed to give that idiot of a zemindar a good lesson by their
means: he has done me no injury since: he knows very well that
all the weight of your influence has been thrown into the scales
on my behalf against him." Bahulya, contentedly puffing away at
his _hooka_, with its pedestal of _Bidri_ ware, and letting the
smoke out of his eyes and mouth, laughed gently to himself. Another
man remarked: "When a man has to take land into his own hands in
the Mofussil there are two ways of keeping the zemindar and the
indigo planter quiet; the first is to get the protection of a man
like the Moulvi Saheb here: the second to become a Christian. I
have seen a good many ryots, under the protection of the _padri_,
lording it over their fellows, like so many Brahmin bulls among
a herd of cows: there is power in the _padri's_ money, in his
signature, and in his recommendation. 'People always look after
their own' says a proverb. I do not say that the ryots are all
really Christian at heart, but those that go to the _padri's_
church get a good may advantages, and in police cases a letter
from the _padri_ is of great service to them." Bahulya replied:
"That may be all very true but it is a very bad thing for a man 
to renounce his faith." They all at once said: "Very true, very 
true, and on this account we never go near the _padri_."

They were all gossiping away merrily like this, when suddenly a
police inspector, some _jemadars_, and sergeants of police, rushed
forward and caught hold of Bahulya by the arms, saying: "You have
committed forgery along with Thakchacha: there is a warrant for
your apprehension." The men who had been with Bahulya were seized
with terror when they heard these words, and ran off as fast as
they could. Bahulya appealed to the avarice of the inspector and
the sergeant of police, but they would not listen to the offer of
a bribe for fear of losing their appointment; they seized him and
took him off with them. As the news spread in Upper Bhowanipore,
a great crowd collected, and some of the more respectable people in
the crowd exclaimed;-- "The punishment of crime must come sooner
or later: if people who have been perpetrating crimes pass their
lives in happiness, then must the creation be all a delusion and
a lie; but such can never be." As Bahulya proceeded on his way,
with his head bent low, he met a good many people, but he affected
to see no one. Some there were who had at some time or other been
victimised by him: seeing that their opportunity had now come,
they ventured to approach him, and said: "Ah, Moulvi Saheb! how
deep in thought you are -- Krishna pining for Brindabun! you
must have some very important business on hand." Bahulya answered
not a word.  After having crossed over from Bansberia Ghât he
arrived at Shahganj. Some of the leading Mahomedans of that place
remarked when they saw him, "Ah! the rogue has been caught: that
is a very good thing, and it will be still better thing if he
is punished." All these remarks directed against him seemed so
much added to his disgrace: they were as the strokes of a sword
upon a dead body.  Exceedingly mortified by all the insults he
had been exposed to, he at length reached Bhowanipore.

From a short distance off it appeared as if there was a crowd
of people standing on the left side of the road. When they came
nearer, the police sergeant stopped with Bahulya, and asked why
there was such a crowd there: then, pushing his way into the
circle, he saw a gentleman seated on the ground with an injured
man in his lap: blood poured in a continuous stream from his
head, and the clothing of the gentleman was all saturated with
it. Upon the sergeant asking the gentleman who he was and how the
man got injured, he replied:-- "My name is Barada Prasad Biswas:
I was coming here on business, and, as it happened, this man was
accidentally run over by a carriage, and I have been looking after
him. I am trying to find some means of taking him to the hospital
at once: I sent for a _palki_, but the _palki_-bearers refuse on
any consideration to take the man, as he is of the sweeper caste. I
have a carriage with me, but the man cannot get into a carriage:
if I can only get a _palki_, or a _dooly_. I am fully prepared to
pay the hire, whatever it may amount to." The heart even of the
most worthless may be melted by the sight of such goodness. Bahulya
marvelled to see this behaviour of Barada Babu's, and a feeling
of remorse rose in his mind. The sergeant of police said to Barada
Babu: "Sir, the people of Bengal never touch a man of the sweeper
caste: it must be no easy matter for you, being a Bengali, to
do as you are doing: you must be no ordinary person." As he said
this, he put the prisoner in the charge of a constable and went
off himself to a _palki_ stand, where by a liberal expenditure
of threats and promises, he managed to get a _palki_, and sent
the injured man off to the hospital in charge of Barada Babu.

At one time, criminal cases were tried at the High Court at
intervals of three months in the year; now, they are held much more
frequently. Two kinds of juries are empanelled for the purpose
of deciding upon criminal cases. First, there is the grand jury,
who, after due deliberation as to whether an indictment framed
by the police or others is a true bill or not, inform the court;
secondly, there is a petty jury, who help the judge to come
to a decision in cases that have been found to be true bills,
in accordance with the deliberate opinion of the grand jury,
and find the accused guilty or not guilty. At every sessions of
the Criminal Court, twenty-four persons are called on the grand
jury: any person with property of the value of two lakhs, or any
merchant, may be on it. During the sessions, the petty jury may
be empanelled every day, and when their names are called on, the
defendants or the plaintiffs may raise objections to them if they
please: that is to say, they may have some one appointed on the
jury in place of anyone about whom they have any doubts; but when
the twelve persons have once been sworn in as the petty jury, no
change can be made.  On the first day of the sessions, three judges
preside, and as soon as the grand jury have been empanelled, the
judge, whose turn of duty it may be, charges them, that is to say,
explains to them all the cases on for trial at the sessions. After
the charge has been delivered, the two other judges, who are not
on duty, depart; and the grand jury will then withdraw to record
their deliberate opinion on the cases before them, and when they
have sent it in to the judge, the trial will commence.

The night had nearly come to an end: a gentle breeze was
blowing. At this beautifully cool morning hour Thakchacha was
fast asleep and snoring loud, with his mouth wide open: the
other prisoners were up and smoking, and some of them hearing
the sound of snoring kept whispering into Thakchacha's ears:
"Eat a burnt buffalo[62]!" but Thakchacha went on sleeping as
soundly as the famous Kumbha Karna[63];--

"Oh! the thunder of a snore;
"How it terrifies me sore!"

Not long afterwards the English jailor came and told the prisoners
that they must get ready at once, as they were all wanted at the
High Court immediately.

Upon the opening of the sessions, the verandah of the High
Court was crowded with people, even before the clock struck
ten. Attorneys, barristers, plaintiffs defendants, witnesses,
attorneys' touts, jurymen, sergeants of police, _jemadars_,
constables, and others were all collected there. Bancharam was
pacing up and down with Mr. Butler, and any rich man he saw,
no matter whether he knew him or not, he would greet with
hands uplifted, in order to parade his Brahmanical degree[64];
but he deceived no one who knew him well by this assumption of
courtesy. They would perhaps speak with him for a moment or
two, and then on some imaginary plea or other slip away from
him. Soon the jail van arrived, with sepoys on it before and
behind: everybody looked down on it from the verandah above. The
police removed the prisoners from the van and placed them in an
enclosure in a room below the court-room.

Bancharam hurried below to have an interview with Thakchacha
and Bahulya. "You two are Bhima and Arjuna[65]," said he to them;
"have no fear; you may put full confidence in me, I am not a
child you know."

About twelve o'clock, a space was cleared down the middle of
the verandah, and the people all stood on either side of it:
the _chuprassis_ of the court commanded silence: all were eagerly
expecting the arrival of the judges; then the sergeant of police,
the _chuprassis_ and the mace-bearers, bearing in their hands
staves, maces, swords, and the royal silver-crowned insignia, went
outside the court: the sheriff and deputy sheriff appeared with
rods, and then the three judges, clothed in scarlet, ascended the
bench with dignified gait and grave faces, and, after saluting the
counsel, took their seats on the bench, the counsel making profound
obeisance as they stood up in their places. The moving of chairs,
the whispering and chattering of people, made a great noise in the
court, and the _chuprassis_ of the court had repeatedly to call
out: "Silence in the court!" The sergeants of police also tried
to keep the people quiet, and then, as the town crier called out:
"Oh yes! oh yes!" the sessions opened. The names of the grand jury
were then called over, and they were duly empanelled.  They then
appointed their foreman, that is, their president. It happened to
be Mr. Russell's turn to sit as judge: turning to the grand jury
he thus addressed them:-- "Gentlemen of the jury, an inspection
of the cases for trial shows me that forgery is on the increase
in Calcutta: I see that there are five or six cases of that
kind, and amongst them a case against the two men Thakchacha and
Bahulya. It appears from the depositions in their case that they
have for some years past been forging Company's paper at Sialdah,
and selling it in this city.  Take this case first, please, and
be good enough to inform me whether it is a true bill or not:
it is superfluous for me to bid you do your duty in examining
into the other cases for trial."

The grand jury, having received this charge, withdrew. Bancharam
looked very despondently at Mr. Butler. After about a quarter of an
hour had elapsed, the indictment against Thakchacha and Bahulya was
returned to the court as a true bill. Thereupon the jail sentry
produced Thakchacha and Bahulya and made them stand within the
railed enclosure before the judge. As the petty jury were being
empanelled, the court interpreter called out loudly: "Prisoners
at the bar! you have been charged with forging Company's paper:
have you committed this crime or not?" The accused replied: "We
do not even know what is meant by forgery, or by Company's paper:
we are only simple cultivators: we do not concern ourselves with
things of this kind: that is the concern of our English rulers."
The interpreter then said rather angrily to them: "Your language is
all very fine: have you done this thing or have you not?" The only
reply of the accused was: "Our fathers and our grandfathers never
did such things." The interpreter then, in a great rage struck the
table with his fist and said: "Give an answer to my question: have
you done this thing or not?" "No, we never did such a thing," the
accused at last replied. The reason for putting these questions was
that, if the accused acknowledged his crime, his trial proceeded
no further: he was at once sentenced. The interpreter then said:
"Attention! These twelve men, all good and true, who are seated
here, will try you: if you have any objection to raise against
any of them, then speak at once: he will be removed, and another
man substituted." The accused, not understanding anything that was
being said, remained silent, and the trial then commenced: by means
of the depositions of the complainants, and the witnesses, the
Crown prosecutor established a clear case of forgery. The counsel
for the accused did not produce any witnesses, but did his best,
by the ingenious twistings and turnings of cross-examination and by
the chicanery of the law, to mislead the jury. When the speech for
the defence was finished, Mr. Russell gave the jury a summary of
the proofs of the case and explained the evidence of the forgery.

Having received their charge, the petty jury withdrew to
consult. Unless the jury are unanimous, they are unable to record
a verdict. Bancharam seized this opportunity to draw near the
prisoners to encourage them. A few words had passed between them,
when there was a sudden stir in the court, caused by the re-entry
of the jury. When they had all entered and taken their seats,
the foreman stood up: there was at once silence in the court:
all craned their necks and strained their ears to catch what
was said. The clerk of the Crown, the chief conductor of all
criminal cases in the court, put the question:-- "Gentlemen of the
jury! Are Thakchacha and Bahulya guilty or not guilty?" "Guilty"
was the reply of the foreman of the jury. As soon as the accused
heard this, their hearts died within them. Bancharam then hurried
up to them, and said: "Ha, ha! what, guilty? Put your trust in me,
I am no child as you know: I will petition for a new trial, that
is, for another verdict." Thakchacha only shook his head, and said:
"Ah, sir! what must be, must: we cannot afford any more expense."

Bancharam then explained, with some irritation, "How much
do you suppose I shall make by binding leaves in an empty
vessel? In business like this, is clay to be moistened by tears
only?" Mr. Russell then, examining his records very carefully,
looked fixedly at the prisoners, as he passed this sentence
upon them:-- "Thakchacha and Bahulya, your guilt has been well
established, and all who commit such crimes as yours should be
heavily punished: I sentence you therefore to transportation for
life." No sooner was the sentence delivered then the guards seized
the prisoners by their hands and took them below.  Bancharam had
slipped back and was standing to one side; some people remarked
to him, "Is this your case that has been lost?" "You might have
known that," he replied; "let me never again have anything to do
with so bad a one: I have never cared for cases like this."


CHAPTER XXVIII.  A PHILANTHROPIST.

THE Vaidyabati house was enveloped in gloom: there was no one to
superintend affairs or look after the maintenance of the household;
the family was in a very bad way, and had great difficulty even
in procuring food. The villagers began to say amongst themselves:
"How long can an embankment of sand last?  A virtuous household
is as a building of stone." Matilall was all this time an exile
from home, and his companions had also vanished; nothing more was
heard of all their display. Great was the delight of Premnarayan
Mozoomdar. He was sitting one day in the verandah of Beni Babu's
house, snapping his fingers and singing a popular song:--

"The babul's sweet flower doth its petals unfold,
"While it swings in your ear with its colour of gold.
"Your talk is of silver rupees and of rice,"
"Of sweetmeats delicious, and all that is nice."

Inside the house, Beni Babu was playing on the _sitar_ and
devising a special song for it, in accompaniment to the tune of
"_The Champac Flower._" Suddenly, Becharam Babu was seen approaching;
causing great excitement among the children in the street, as he
caught up the popular measure of Nara Chandri:--

"With dice in my hand, all prepared for the game,
"Born into the world as a gambler I came." [66]

The boys were all laughing and clapping their hands, and Becharam
was angrily expostulating with them. When Nadir Shah attacked
Delhi, Mahomed Shah was absorbed in listening to music and singing;
and even when Nadir Shah appeared suddenly before him in the full
panoply of war, Mahomed Shah said not a word, and for a time ceased
not drinking in with his ears the sweet nectar of song; at last,
and still not speaking a word, he left his throne. Not thus did
Beni Babu behave upon the arrival of Becharam Babu; he at once put
down his _sitar_ and rising quickly from his seat, courteously
invited him to be seated. After a somewhat lengthy exchange of
courtesies, Becharam Babu observed: "Ah, my dear friend Beni,
we have at last reached the end of the chapter[67]! Thakchacha has
come to utter grief by his wicked conduct: your Matilall too, by
his lack of intelligence has gone to the bad. Ah, my friend! you
have always told me some terrible misfortune is sure to happen to
a boy when he has not been so educated from his early childhood
as to have a cultivated intellect and a knowledge of rectitude:
Matilall is an instance of this. It is a sorrowful subject: what
more can I say? The whole fault was Baburam's; he had only the wit
of a Muktar: he was sharp enough where trifles were in question,
but blind in the really important concerns of life[68]."

_Beni_.-- What is the good of casting reproach upon him by saying
this all over again: it was demonstrated a long time ago. When
there was such an utter want of attention in the matter of Mati's
education, and no means adopted for keeping evil companions from
him, it was a foregone conclusion[69]. "It is the _Ramayana_ without
Ram." Be that as it may, it is Becharam who has been the chief
gainer. Bakreswar has got nothing by all his importunities. No
school-master has ever been seen with an equal capacity for
flattering the children of the rich: the education he was supposed
to give was all a sham: his thoughts day and night were directed
solely to getting gain, while appearing still to the outside
world to be doing a great work. Anyhow the Vaishnava's hopes
of making a good thing out of Matilall were never extinguished;
like the little _chátak_ bird, he rent the heavens with his cry:
"Give me water! give me water!" but not even a cloudlet could he
ever see, much less a shower[70].

_Premnarayan Mozoomdar_.-- Have you, gentlemen, nothing else to talk
about?  Have you nothing to say on the subject of Kavi Kankan, or
of Valmiki, or of Vyasa[71]?  Have you nothing to say on business?
I am tired to death of discussing the troubles connected with the
name of Baburam. Mati has only met with the fate which so wicked
a boy deserved: let him go to perdition: need we feel any anxiety
on his account?

Meanwhile Hari, the servant, who had been busy preparing tobacco,
brought a _hooka_, and putting it into Beni Babu's hands, said:--
"That Babu from Eastern Bengal is just approaching." Beni Babu at
once rose from his seat and saw Barada Babu approaching rather
hurriedly with a stick in his hand. Both Beni Babu and Becharam
Babu greeted him courteously and invited him to be seated.
When they had enquired after each other's welfare, Barada Babu
said:-- "Now at length what has been long expected has come
to pass. I have a request to make of you just now; I have been
living for a long time past at Vaidyabati, and for this reason
it became my duty to help the people of the place to the best
of my ability. I have no great wealth, it is true, but when I
consider what I am, the Lord has given me plenty: if I were to
hope for greater abundance, I should be finding fault with His
good judgment, and that is not a proper course for me to take:
it was my duty to help my neighbours, but whether from laziness,
or ill fortune, I have not discharged my duty thoroughly of late."

_Becharam_.-- What language is this? Why, you have assisted
all the poor and afflicted people of Vaidyabati in a hundred
different ways, with supplies of food, with clothing, with money,
with medicines, with books, with advice, and by your own personal
exertions on their behalf. In no single detail have there been
any shortcomings on your part. Why, my dear friend, they shed
tears when they proclaim your virtues. I know all this well:
why do you try to impose on me like this?

_Barada_.-- My dear sir, it is no imposition; I am telling
you the plain truth: if any have derived any help from me, I am
humiliated when I think how trifling that help has been. However,
the request I have now to make is this; the families of Matilall
and Thakchacha are starving; it has come to my knowledge that they
often have to fast for days. It has been a great grief to me to
hear this; I have therefore brought two hundred rupees that I had
by me, and I shall be exceedingly gratified if you will somehow
contrive to have this money sent to them without revealing my name.

Beni Babu was astounded on hearing these words, and Becharam
Babu, after a short interval, looking towards Barada Babu,
his eyes filling with tears of emotion, said to him, as he put
his hand on his shoulder: "Ah, my dear friend!  you know what
rectitude really is: as for us, we have spent our lives in vain:
it is written in the Vedas and in the Puranas: 'The man whose
mind is pure and upright, he shall see God.' What shall I say
about your mind? I have never hitherto seen even the slightest
taint of impurity in it. God keep you in happiness acceptable to
yourself. But tell me, have you had any news of Ramlall lately?"

_Barada_.-- Some months back I received a letter from Hurdwar:
he was well: he did not say anything about returning.

_Becharam_.-- Ramlall is a very good boy: the mere sight of him
would refresh my eyes: he is bound to be good, and it has all
come about by reason of his association with you.

Meanwhile, Thakchacha and Bahulya had passed Saugor on a vessel
The pair were for all the world like two cranes: they sat together,
ate together, slept together, and were perfectly inseparable: their
mutual woes formed the continual theme of their conversation. One
day Thakchacha, with a deep sigh, said to his companion:-- "Our
destiny is a very hard one: we have become mere lumps of earth:
our trickery is of no further avail, and as for my stratagems,
they have all escaped from my head. My house is ruined: I did
not even have an interview with my wife before leaving: I am
very much afraid that she will marry again." Bahulya replied:
"Friend, pluck all these matters out of your heart: life in
the world is after all but a pilgrimage: we are here to-day,
gone to-morrow: no one has anything he can call his own. You
have one wife, I have four. Throw everything else to the winds,
consider only carefully the means whereby it may go well with
self." The wind soon began to blow hard, and the ship went on
her way with a strong list to one side. A terrible storm then got
up. Thakchacha, trembling all over with fright, said to Bahulya:
"Oh, my friend, I am in a terrible fright! I think my death
must be very near." Bahulya replied: "Are we not already within
an ace of death? We are but ghosts of our former selves.  Come,
and let us go below, and say our prayers to Allah and his prophet:
I have them all by heart: if we are swamped, we shall at any rate
have the name of our patron saint to accompany us on our journey."


CHAPTER XXIX.  BANCHARAM IN POSSESSION.

BANCHARAM BABU's hunger had not yet been appeased: he was always
looking out for the chance of a successful stroke, or else
revolving in his mind the kind of stratagem it would be best for
him to adopt in order to accomplish his wished-for object. His
cunning intellect became keener than ever by this practice. He was
one day overhauling all Baburam Babu's affairs which had passed
through his hands, when a fine plan suddenly presented itself to
him: in the midst of his calculations, as he sat there propped up
by a cushion, he suddenly slapped his thigh, and exclaimed. "Ah! at
last I see before me a toad to a fine fortune. There is an estate
in the China Bazar belonging to Baburam, and there is the family
house too: they have both been mortgaged, and the limit of time
has expired. I will speak to Herambar Babu, and have a complaint
lodged in court, and then for a few days at any rate my hunger
may be appeased." With these words, he threw his shawl over his
shoulders, and making a visit to the Ganges the nominal excuse
for his departure, he tramped off with a firm determination to
succeed in his plan, or perish in the attempt.

He soon reached Herambar Babu's house. Entering at the door, he
enquired of a servant where the master of the house was. Hearing
Bancharam Babu's voice Herambar Babu at once descended the
stairs. He was a very open-hearted and generous man, and he
always acceded to every suggestion made to him. Bancharam took
him by the hand and said to him very affectionately:-- "Ha,
Choudhury Mahashay! you once lent some money to Baburam upon
my recommendation. The family and their affairs are now in
a very bad way: the honour and reputation of his house have
departed with Baburam: the elder boy is a perfect ape, and the
younger a fool: they have both gone abroad. The family is deeply
involved in debt: there are other creditors all prepared to bring
suits against the family, and they may put many difficulties
in the way of a settlement: I can therefore no longer advise
you to keep quiet. Give me the mortgage papers. You will have
to record a complaint in our office to-morrow: kindly give us a
foil power-of-attorney." In similar circumstances, all men alike
would be afraid of losing their money. Herambar Babu was neither
deceitful nor artful himself, and so the words which Bancharam had
just spoken at once caught his attention: he agreed straightway,
and entrusted the mortgage papers into Bancharam Babu's hands. As
Hanuman, having obtained the fatal arrow of Ravan, all gleefully
hurried away from Lanka[72], so Bancharam, putting the papers
under his arm as if they had been a cherished charm[73], hurried
off smilingly home.

Nearly a year had elapsed since Matilall's departure. The main
door of the Vaidyabati house was still close shut: lichen covered
the roof and the walls and all about the place there was a dense
jungle of thorns and prickly shrubs.  Inside the house, were two
helpless young women, Matilall's stepmother, and his wife, who when
it was necessary for them to go out at any time, used the back
door only. They found the greatest difficulty in getting food,
and had only old clothes to wear. For fifteen days in the month
they went without food altogether. The money they had received at
Beni Babu's hands had all been expended in the payment of debts,
and in defraying the cost of their living for some months. They
were now experiencing unparalleled, hardships, and being utterly
without resources, were in great anxiety. One day, Matilall's
wife said to his step-mother:-- "Ah, lady! we cannot reckon the
number of sins we must have committed in our other births: I am
married, it is true, but I have never seen my husband's face:
my lord has never once turned to look at me: he has never once
asked whether I am alive or dead. However bad a husband may be,
it is not for a woman to reproach him: I have never reproached my
husband. It is my wretched destiny: where is his fault? I have only
this much to say, that the hardships which I am now suffering would
not appear hardships, if only my husband were with me." Matilall's
step-mother replied: "Surely there are none so miserable as we are:
my heart breaks at the thought of our misery: the only resource of
the helpless and poor is the Lord of the poor." Men-servants and
maid-servants will only remain in service with people as long as
they are well off. Now that these two girls had been reduced to
their present state, their servants had all left them. One old
woman alone remained with them out of pure kindness of heart:
she herself managed to pick up a living by begging.

The mother-in-law and daughter-in-law were engaged in the
conversation we have recorded, when suddenly this old servant
came to them, trembling all over, and said, "Oh, my mistresses,
look out of the window! Bancharam Babu, accompanied by a sergeant
of police and some constables, has just surrounded the house.
On seeing me, he said, 'Go and tell the ladies to leave the
house.' I said to him, 'Sir! And where will they go?' Then he
got angry, and threatened me, adding, 'Do they not know that the
house is mortgaged? Do they suppose that the creditor will throw
his money into the Ganges? Well, I am only acting upon his wish;
let them go away at once, or shall I have to put them out by the
scuff of the neck?'" The two women trembled all over with fright
when they heard this. The house was soon full of the noise made by
the men who were breaking in the front door: a crowd of people too
had collected in the street. Bancharam was ostentatiously ordering
the men to hammer at the door, and was gesticulating and saying:
"No one can possibly prevent me from taking possession: I am not
a child that I can be easily trifled with: it is the order of
the Court: I will force an entry into the house: is a gentleman
who has advanced money on the house to be called a thief? What
wrong is being done? Let the members of the family depart at
once." A great crowd had now collected, and some of the people
were very angry, and exclaimed: "Ho, Bancharam! No baser wretch
exists on earth than you: by your counsel you have ruined this
house altogether. You have had heaps of money out of this family
by your long-continued malpractices, and now you are turning the
household adrift: why the very sight of your face would render
it necessary to perform the _Chandrayan_ penance: no place will
be found for you even in hell." Bancharam paid no heed to their
remarks; and when he had at last burst in the door, he rushed into
the house, with the sergeant of police, and went into the zenana.

Just at that moment, Matilall's wife and his stepmother,
taking hold of the hands of the old woman, and wiping the tears
from their eyes, as they exclaimed, "Oh, Lord God, protect
these poor helpless women!" went out of the house by the back
door. Matilall's wife then said, "Friends, we are women of good
family: we are utterly ignorant: where shall we go? Our father and
all his race are gone: we have no brothers: we have no sisters:
we have no relatives at all: who will protect us? Oh, Lord God,
our honour and our lives are now in Thy hands. Welcome death by
starvation before dishonour." When they had gone a few paces,
they stopped beneath a banyan tree, and began to consider what
was to be done. Just then Barada Babu approached them with a
_dooly_: with bowed head and sorrowful face he said to them:
"Ladies, do not be anxious: regard me as you would a son: I
beg that you will get into this _dooly_ at once, and go to my
house: I have separate quarters ready for you: stay there for a
while, until your plans are arranged." When Matilall's wife and
stepmother heard these words of Barada Babu, they were like people
just rescued from a watery grave.  Overwhelmed with gratitude,
they said: "Sir, how we should like to be prostrate at your feet:
we have no words to express our gratitude to you: you must surely
have been our father in a previous birth." Barada Babu hurriedly
placed them in the _dooly_, and sent them to his house; while
he himself, fearing he might meet some one on the road who would
question him, hurried home by back streets.


CHAPTER XXX.  MATILALL AT BENARES: HOME AGAIN.

A GOOD disposition is created by good advice and good associations:
to some it comes early in life, to others later; and from lack of
it in early youth great harm happens. As a fire, when it has once
caught hold of a jungle, blazes furiously, destroying everything
in its path, or as a wind, when it has once got up with any
force, on a sudden increases in violence, and hurls down in its
course large trees and buildings, so an evil disposition, when
it has once been formed in childhood, gradually assumes fearful
proportions, if roused into activity by the natural passions of
the blood. Bad examples of this are constantly seen; but examples
may also be seen of persons long given over to evil thoughts and
evil ways becoming virtuous all of a sudden, quite late in life. A
conversion like this may have its origin either in good advice
or in good companionship. However, it occasionally happens that
people come suddenly to their right mind; it may be by chance, it
may be by an accident, it may be by a mere word. Such conversions,
however, are very rare.

When Matilall returned home from Jessore in despair, he said to
his companion: "It is evidently not my destiny to be rich: it is
idle therefore for me to seek further for wealth. I am now going
to travel for a time in the North-West: will any of you accompany
me?" The darling of Fortune may call all men his friends: when a
man has wealth he has no need to summon any one to his presence:
numbers will crowd to him uninvited, but a poor man finds it very
hard to get companions. All those who had been in attendance upon
Matilall had made a show of friendship for him because of the
amusement and profit they had derived; but, as a matter of fact,
they had not a particle of real affection for him. As soon as
they saw that his means were exhausted, and that he was hampered
on all sides by debt, and that, far from being any longer able to
maintain his old style of living, he could hardly keep himself,
they began to ask themselves what possible benefit they could
derive from keeping on friendly terms with him,-- far better
drop his acquaintance altogether[74]! When Matilall put that
question to them then, he saw at once that none of them would give
him any answer. They all hummed and hawed, and pleaded all sorts
of excuses. Matilall was very angry at their behaviour, and said:
"Adversity is the real test of friendship: at last, after all this
time, I have got to know your real character: however, go to your
respective homes, -- I am about to proceed on my journey." His
companions replied: "Oh, sir! do not be angry with us: nay, go
on in advance, we will follow you as soon as we have settled all
our affairs."

Matilall, paying no heed to what they said, proceeded on his way
on foot, and being hospitably entertained, at some of the places
on the road, and begging his way at others, he reached Benares
in three months. Having fallen into this pitiable condition, the
course of his mind began to be changed, from his long solitary
meditations. Temples, once built at great expense, _ghâts_, and
buildings of all kinds, all sooner or later begin to crumble away:
sooner or later some vigorous old tree, whose great branches spread
far and wide, is seen to decay: rivers, mountains, valleys, none
continue long the same.  Indeed, time brings change and decay,
to all alike. Everything is transient; all is vanity. Man, too,
is subject to disease, old age, separation from friends, sorrow
and troubles of every kind; and in this world, passion, pride,
and pleasure are all but as drops of water. Such were Matilall's
meditations, as day after day he made the circuit of Benares,
sitting, when evening came, in some quiet spot on the banks of
the Ganges, and meditating again and again on the unreality of
the body, and the reality of the soul, and on his own character
and conduct. By such a course of reflection, the evil passions
within him became dwarfed[75], and he was roused in consequence to
a sense of his former conduct and his present evil condition. As
his mind took this direction, there sprang up within him a feeling
of self-contempt, and, accompanying that self-contempt, deep
remorse. He was always asking himself this question, "How can I
attain salvation? When I remember all the evil I have committed,
my heart burns within me like a forest on fire." Absorbed in such
thoughts, paying no attention to food or clothing, he went wandering
about like one demented.

Some time had been spent by him thus, when one day he chanced to
see an old man sitting deep in meditation, under a tree, glancing
at one moment at a book, and at the next shutting his eyes, and
meditating. To look at the man one would at once imagine him to be
a very learned person, and one, too, who had attained to perfect
knowledge and complete subjection of mind. The mere sight of his
face would arouse a feeling of reverence in the mind. Matilall at
once approached him, and, after making a most profound
salutation[76], remained standing before him.  After a while, the
old man looked intently at Matilall, and said, "Ah, my child, from
your appearance I should imagine that you belong to a good family;
but why are you so sorrowful?" This gentle address gave Matilall
confidence, and he acquainted the old man with the whole story of
his life, concealing nothing.  "Sir," he said, "I perceive you to
be a very learned man: now, and from henceforth, I am your humble
servant: pray give me some good advice." The old man replied, "I see
that you are hungry: we will postpone our conversation till you have
had some food and rest." That day was spent in hospitality. The
old man was pleased at the sight of Matilall's simplicity and
straightforwardness. It is a characteristic of human nature that
there cannot be any frank interchange of thought amongst men where
they receive no mutual gratification from each other's society; but
where there is this mutual gratification, then the thoughts of each
man's heart are revealed in quick succession. Moreover, when one man
displays frankness, the other, unless he is exceedingly insincere,
can never manifest insincerity. The old man was a very worthy person;
pleased at Matilall's frankness and sincerity, he began to love
him as a son, and, at a later period, he expounded to him his own
notions about the Supreme Being. He often used to say to him:--
"My son, to worship the Almighty with all our powers, with faith,
affection, and love, is the main object of all virtue: meditate
always on this, and practise it in thought, and word, and deed:
when this advice has taken firm root the course of your mind will
be changed, and the practice of other virtues will naturally follow;
but to have a constant and uniform love of the Almighty, in thought,
word, and deed, is no easy thing; for, in this world, such enemies
as passion, envy, avarice, and lust, put extraordinary obstacles
in the way, and therefore there is every need for concentration of
thought and steadfastness."  Matilall, after receiving this advice,
engaged every day in meditation on the Almighty, and in prayer,
and endeavoured to examine into all his faults, and to correct
them. As a consequence of a long-continued course of action like
this, faith and devotion towards the Lord of the Universe sprang up
in his mind. The honour due to good companions is beyond the power of
words to express: pre-eminent amongst the virtuous stood Matilall's
instructor; was it then in any way astonishing that Matilall's mind
should have so changed from association with such a man? A feeling
of brotherly kindness towards all men developed itself in the mind
of Matilall as one consequence of his very great faith in God, and
then, in quick succession, a feeling of affection for his parents,
and for his wife, and a desire to alleviate the sorrows of others,
and to confer benefits upon others, grew in intensity. To see or
hear anything opposed to truth and sincerity made him intensely
unhappy. He would often tell the old man the thoughts that were
passing in his mind, and his former history; and he would sometimes
say in a mournful tone, "Oh, my teacher! I am very wicked: when I
think of what my behaviour has been towards my father, my mother,
my brother, my sister, and others, I sometimes think that no place
can be found for me even in hell." The old man would console him
by saying, "My child, devote yourself to the practise of virtue
at any cost: men are constantly sinning in thought, in word, and
in deed: our only hope of salvation is the mercy of Him who is all
mercy: the man who displays heartfelt grief for his sins, and who
is sincerely zealous for the purification of his soul, can never
be destroyed." Matilall would listen attentively, and meditate
with bowed head upon all he heard.  Sometimes he would exclaim,
"My mother, my step-mother, or my sister, my brother, my wife,
where are they all? My mind is exceedingly anxious on their account."

It was a day at the commencement of the autumn season; the time
was the early dawn. Who can give Expression to the amazing beauty
of Brindabun? Palms and trees of every kind flourished everywhere
in abundance; thousands of birds were singing in every variety of
note, perched on their branches. The waves of the Jumna, as if in
merry play, embraced its banks. The boys and girls of Brindabun, in
arbours and in the roads, were playing their _sitars_, and singing
as they played. The night had come to an end, and all the temples,
now that the hour for waving the lamps before the shrines had come,
resounded with the hoarse murmur of tens of thousands of conch
shells, and with the clanging of innumerable bells, shoals of
tortoises played around the Kashi Ghât: hundreds of thousands of
monkeys were leaping and jumping about on the trees, now curling
their tails, now stretching them out, and now and again plunging
headlong down with hideous grimaces, and carrying off some poor
people's stores of food. Hundreds of pilgrims were wandering about
the different groves, and as they gazed on the different objects
of interest, were talking about the sports of Sri Krishna. As
the sun grew hot, the earth got baked with the heat; it became
irksome to walk about any longer on foot, and the majority of
the pilgrims sat about under the shade of the trees, and rested.

Matilall's mother had been wandering about holding her daughter by
the hand; soon overcome with fatigue, she lay down in a quiet spot
with her head in her daughter's lap. The girl fanned and cooled her
wearied mother with the border of her _sari_. The mother, feeling
at length somewhat refreshed, said to her, "Pramada, my child, take
a little rest yourself. Now I will sit up awhile." "Now that your
fatigue is removed, mother," said the girl, "mine also has gone:
continue lying down, and I will shampoo your feet." Tears rose
in the mother's eyes as she heard her daughter's affectionate
address, and she said, "My child, the mere sight of your face
has revived me. How many must be the sins that I committed in
my other births, or why should I be experiencing this grief? It
is no pain to me that I should myself be dying of starvation:
my great sorrow is that I have not the wherewithal to give you
even a morsel of food: the world is too small to contain such
sorrow as mine.  My two sons, where are they? I know not what
has become of them. My daughter-in-law, how is she? Why did I
display such anger? Matilall struck me, he actually struck me, his
mother! My soul, too, is in constant anxiety on Ramlall's account,
as well as on Matilall's." The girl, wiping away her mother's
tears, tried to console her; after a while, her mother went to
sleep, and the girl, seeing her asleep, sat perfectly motionless,
gently fanning her: though mosquitoes and gadflies settled on her
person, and annoyed her with their bites, she moved not for fear
of interrupting her mother's sleep. A marvellous thing is the love
and endurance of women? Herein are they far superior to men. The
girl's mother dreamt in her sleep that a youth clothed in yellow
came near her, and said, "Lady, weep no more! You are virtuous:
you have warded off sorrow from many of the afflicted poor: you
have never done anything but good to any: all will soon be well
with you: you will find your two sons and be happy again." The
sorrowful woman started out of her sleep, and, on opening her
eyes, saw only her daughter near her; without speaking a word to
her she took her by the hand, and they returned in great trouble
to their hut of leaves. The mother and daughter were constantly
conversing together: one day the mother said to her daughter,
"My child, my mind is very restless: I cannot help thinking that
I ought to return home." Not seeing her way to that, the girl
replied, "But mother, we have amongst our stock of supplies but
one or two cloths, and a brass drinking vessel: what can we get
by the sale of these?  Remain here quietly for a few days, while
I earn something as a cook, or as a maid-servant somewhere, and
then we shall have got something together to defray the expenses
of our journey." The girl's mother at these words sighed heavily,
and remained motionless: she could restrain her tears no longer:
seeing her distressed, the girl was distressed also.

As luck would have it, a resident of Mathura, who lived near
them, and who was constantly doing them small kindnesses, came up
at that moment: seeing them in such sorrow, she first consoled
them, and then listened to their story: the woman of Mathura,
sorrowing in their sorrow, said to them, "Ladies, what shall
I say? I have no money myself I should like to alleviate your
distress by giving you all I possess: let me now tell you of a
plan you had better adopt: I have heard that a Bengali Babu has
come to live at Mathura, who has amassed a fortune in service,
and by making advances to agriculturists: I have heard, too,
that he is very kind and liberal: if you go to him, and ask for
your travelling expenses, you will certainly get them." As the
two distressed women could see no other resource open to them,
they agreed to adopt the plan proposed; so they took their leave
of the woman of Mathura, and reached Mathura in about two days.

On arrival there, they went to the vicinity of a tank, where they
found collected together the afflicted, the blind, the lame, the
sorrowful and the poor, all in tears. The girl's mother said to an
old woman amongst them: "My friend, why are you all in tears?" "Ah,
mother!" replied the woman, "there is a certain Babu here; words
fail me to tell of his virtues: he goes about among the homes of
the poor and afflicted, and is continually attending to their
wants, supplying them with food and clothing, and, moreover,
he watches by the bedside of the sick at night, administering
medicines and proper diet. He sympathises with us in all our joys
and all our sorrows. Tears come into my eyes at the mere thought
of the Babu's virtues. Blessed is the woman who has borne such
a child in her womb: she is certainly destined for the joys of
heaven. The place where such a one lives is holy ground. It is
our miserable destiny that this Babu is just leaving the country:
our tears are flowing at the thought of what our condition will be
when he has gone." The two women, hearing this, said to each other:
"All our hopes appear to be fruitless: sorrow is our destined
lot. Who can rub the writing off our foreheads?" Seeing their
despondency, the old woman already mentioned said to them, "I fancy
you are ladies of good family who have fallen into misfortune:
if you are in want of money, then come with me at once to the
Babu, for he assists many persons of good family as well as the
poor." The two women at once agreed to this, and following the
old woman they remained outside, while she entered the house.

The day was drawing to a close: the rays of the setting sun gave
a golden tinge to the trees and to the tanks. Near where the two
women were standing was a small walled garden, in which every
variety of creeper was growing, carefully trained on trellis work:
the turf in it was nicely kept, and at intervals raised platforms
had been erected to serve as seats. Two gentlemen were walking
about in this garden, hand in hand, like Krishna and Arjuna;
as their gaze chanced to fall upon the two women outside, they
hurried out of the garden to meet them. The two women, out of
confusion, veiled their faces and drew a little to one side. Then
the younger of the two men said to them in a gentle tone: "Regard
us as your sons: do not be ashamed: tell us fully the reason of
your coming here: and if any assistance can be rendered by us,
we will not fail to render it." Hearing these words, the mother,
taking her daughter by the hand, moved forward a little, and
briefly informed them of the plight they were in.  Even before
she had finished telling her story, the two men looked at each
other, and the younger of them, in the enthusiasm of his joy,
fell to the ground, exclaiming, "My mother! my mother!" The
other, and the elder of the two, made a profound obeisance to
the sorrowful mother, and, with his hands humbly folded, said,
"Dear lady, look, look! He who has fallen to the ground is your
precious one, your treasure[77]: he is your Ram! and my name is
Barada Prasad Biswas." When she heard this, the mother unveiled
her face, and said: "Oh, dear sir, what is this that you are
saying? Shall such a destiny as this befall so miserable a wretch
as I am?" On coming to himself, Ramlall bowed down to the earth
before his mother, and remained motionless. Taking her son's head
into her bosom and weeping the while, his mother poured the cool
waters of consolation over his heated mind; and his sister, with
the edge of her _sari_, wiped away his tears and the dust that had
collected on him, and remained still and silent.

By-and-by the old woman, not finding the Babu in the house,
came running into the garden, and when she saw him lying on the
ground with his head in the lap of the elder of the two women,
she screamed out: "Dear me, what is the matter? Oh dear! Oh
dear! Is the Babu ill? Shall I go and fetch a _Kabiraj_?" Barada
Prasad Babu said to her, "Be quiet, the Babu has not been taken
ill: these two women that you see are the Babu's mother and his
sister." "Oh Babu!" exclaimed the old woman, "Must you make fun
of me because I am a poor old woman? Why, the Babu is a very rich
man: is he not the chosen lord of Lakshmi? and these two women are
but poor tramps: they came with me. How can one be his mother,
and the other his sister? I rather fancy they are witches from
Kamikhya who have deceived you by their magical arts. Oh, dear! I
have never seen such women. I humbly salute their magic." And
the old woman went away in high dudgeon, muttering to herself.

Having recovered their composure, they all went into the house,
and great was the satisfaction of the mother when she found
Mati's wife and her own co-wife there.  Having received full
particulars of all the other members of her family she said:
"Ah, my son, Ram! come, let us now return home: as for my Mati,
I do not know what has become of him, and I am very anxious on
his account." Ramlall had been already prepared to return home:
he had a boat, and everything ready at the _ghât_. Having,
in accordance with his mother's instructions, ascertained an
auspicious day for the journey[78], he took them all with him, and
prepared to depart. The people of Mathura all thronged round him
at the time of his departure: thousands of eyes filled with tears:
from thousands of mouths issued songs in celebration of Ramlall's
virtues: and thousands of hands were uplifted in blessing. As for
the old woman, who had gone away in such dudgeon, she drew near
Ramlall's mother, with her hands humbly folded, and wept. All
remained standing on the banks of the river Jumna, like so many
lifeless and inanimate beings, until the boat had passed away out
of their sight. As the current was running down and the wind was
not blowing strong from the south, the boat glided quickly down,
and they all reached Benares in a few days.

Early morning in Benares! Oh the beauty of the scene! There in
their thousands were Brahmans of two Vedas, and Brahmans of four
Vedas, worshippers of Ram, worshippers of Vishnu, worshippers
of Shiva, followers of Shakti, worshippers of Ganesh, religious
devotees and Brahman students, all devoutly engaged in reciting
their hymns and prayers. There too in their thousands were men
reciting portions of the Samvedas, and hymns to Agni and Vayu:
crowds of women, hailing from Surat, from the Mahratta country,
from Bengal, and from Behar, all clothed in silk garments of
various hues, were engaged in perambulating the temples after
due performance of their ablutions: beyond calculation in number
were the temples sweetly perfumed with the odours of aromatic
tapers, of incense, of flowers, and of sandal. Devotees in
countless numbers crowded the streets puffing their cheeks,
and shaking their sides, as they shouted aloud in enthusiasm:
"Oh, Mahadeva! Lord of the Universe!" Women, devotees of Shiva,
carrying tridents in their hands, and wearing scarlet raiment,
were perambulating in their hundreds, about the temple of Shiva,
engaged in their devotions to Shiva and Durga, and laughing madly
the while.  Ascetics there were in great numbers, who striving
hard to subdue their bodies, and their passions, sat solitary with
their hands uplifted, hair all matted, and bodies covered with
ashes. There, too, in countless numbers, were religious devotees,
each sitting apart by himself in some secluded corner, engaged in
various mystic ceremonies, now emitting their breath, now holding
it in: musicians and singers with their lutes and their tabors,
their violins and their guitars, were there in great numbers,
all completely absorbed in every variety of tone and tune.

Ramlall and his companions remained four days in Benares, bathing
and performing other ceremonies at the Mani Karnika Ghât. He was
always with his mother and sister, and in the evening he used
to roam about with Barada Babu.  One day, in the course of their
walks, they saw a beautiful pavilion before them. An old man was
sitting inside gazing at the beauty of the Bhagirathi: the river
was flowing swiftly by, its waters rippling and murmuring in their
course; and so transparently clear was it that it seemed to bear on
its bosom the many-hued evening sky. On the approach of Ramlall,
the old man addressing him as an old acquaintance said: "What was
your opinion of the Upanishad of Shuka[79] when you read it?"
Ramlall looked intently at the old man, and saluted him
respectfully.  The old man a little disconcerted said to him:
"Sir, I perceive I have made a mistake: I have a pupil whose face
is exactly like yours. I mistook you for him when I addressed
you." Ramlall and Barada Babu then sat down beside the old man
and began to converse on a variety of topics connected with the
_Shástras_.  Meanwhile a person with a somewhat anxious expression
of countenance came and sat beside them, keeping his head down.
Barada Babu, gazing intently at him, exclaimed: "Ram! Ram! do you
not see?  It is your elder brother sitting by you." On hearing these
words, Ramlall's hair stood on end with astonishment, and he looked
at Matilall, Matilall, looking at Ramlall, suddenly started up, and
embraced him: and remaining for some time motionless, he said: "Oh,
my brother! will you forgive me?" and then winding his arms round
his younger brother's neck, he bathed his shoulders in his tears.
For some time both remained silent: no words issued from their
mouths, and they began to realise the real meaning of the word
'brother.' Then Matilall, prostrating himself at the feet of Barada
Babu and, taking the dust off his feet, said, as he humbly folded
his hands: "Honoured sir, now at length I have come to know your
real worth: forgive me, worthless wretch that I am." Barada Babu,
taking the two brothers by the hand, then took leave of the old man,
and they all proceeded on their way, each in turn telling his story
as they went. When Barada Babu, after a long converse, perceived
the change that had taken place in Matilall's mind, his delight knew
no bounds. On coming to where the other members of his family were,
Matilall, while still some distance off, exclaimed with a loud voice:
"Oh, mother, mother, where are you? Your wicked son has returned
to you: he is now alive and well, he is not dead: ah, mother!
considering what my behaviour towards you has been, I do not wish
to show you my face; it is my wish to see your feet only just once
before I die." On hearing these words, his mother approached with
cheerful mind, and tearful eyes, and found priceless wealth in
gazing on her eldest son's face. Matilall at once fell prostrate
at her feet: his mother then raised him up, and as she wiped away
his tears with the border of her _sari_ said: "Oh, Mati, your
stepmother, your sister, and your wife are all here: come and see
them at once." After greeting his stepmother and sister, Matilall,
seeing his wife, wept at the remembrance of his previous history, and
exclaimed: "Oh my mother, I have been as bad a husband as I have been
a son and a brother. I am in no way worthy of so estimable a wife:
a man and woman, at the time of marriage, take a form of oath before
the Almighty that they will love each other as long as life lasts,
and that they will never forsake each other, even though they may
fall into great trouble; the wife too, that she will never turn her
thoughts to another man, and the husband that he will never think
of another woman, as in such thoughts there is grievous sin. I have
acted in numberless ways contrary to this oath: how is it then that
I have not been deserted by my wife? Such a brother and a sister
as I have too! I have done them an irreparable injury. And such a
mother! than whom a man can have no more priceless possession on
earth. Ah, mother, I have given you endless trouble. I, your son,
actually struck you! What atonement can there be for all these sins?
If I were only to die at this moment I might find deliverance from
the fire that is burning within me, but I almost think that death
has been the cause of its own death; for I see no sign of disease
even, the messenger of death. However, do you now all of you return
home. I will remain with my teacher in this city, and depart this
life in the practice of stern austerities." After this Barada Babu,
Ramlall, and his mother, summoned to them Matilall's spiritual
teacher, and explained matters to him at length, and then took
Matilall away with them.

While their boat was tied up to the shore at nightfall, off
Monghyr, some one, resembling a boy in form, came close up to
the boat, and raising himself up called out: "There is a light,
there is a light." Seeing this peculiar behaviour, Barada Babu,
bidding them all to be very careful, got on to the deck of the
cabin, and saw about twenty or thirty armed men in ambush in
the jungle, all ready to attack as soon as they should get the
signal. Ramlall and Barada Babu got their guns out at once, and
began firing: at the sound of the firing, the dacoits withdrew
into the jungle. Barada Babu and Ramlall were eager to follow
them up with swords and apprehend them, and give them in charge to
the neighbouring inspector of police, but their families forbade
it. When Matilall saw what had happened he said: "My training
has been bad in every way.  I have been utterly ruined by my
life of luxury. I used to laugh at Ramlall when he was practising
gymnastics, but now I recognise that without manly exercise from
one's boyhood courage cannot exist. I was in a terrible fright
just now, and if it had not been for Ramlall and Barada Babu we
should all have been killed."

In a few days they all arrived at Vaidyabati, and proceeded
to Barada Babu's house. Hearing of the return of Barada Babu
and Ramlall, the villagers came from all parts to see them: joy
uprose in the minds of all, and their faces beamed with delight:
and all, eager for their welfare, showered down upon them prayers
and flowers of blessing. On the following day, Herambar Chandra
Chaudhuri Babu came, and said to Ramlall: "Ram Babu! without
understanding the full circumstances of the case, and acting
on Bancharam Babu's advice, I have obtained possession of your
family house: I am really sorry that I should have entered into
possession, and so driven away the members of your family: take up
your abode there, whenever it suits your good pleasure." To this
Ramlall replied: "I am exceedingly obliged to you: and if it is
really your wish to give me the house back, we shall be under an
obligation to you if you will accept your legitimate claims." Upon
Herambar Babu agreeing to this proposal, Ramlall at once paid the
money out of his own pocket, and drew up a deed in the name of the
two brothers, and then, accompanied by the other members of the
family, returned to the family house; raising his eye to heaven,
and with heartfelt gratitude, he exclaimed: "Lord of the world,
nothing is impossible with Thee."

Soon after this Ramlall married, and the two brothers passed
their lives very happily, striving, with exceeding affection,
to promote the happiness of their mother and the other members
of their family. Under the favour of Durga, the granter of
boons, Barada Babu went on special employment to Badaraganj.
Becharam Babu, becoming by the sale of his property the true
Becharam, went to live at Benares. Beni Babu, who had been for
some time the independent gentleman without much training, turned
his attention to the practice of law.  Bancharam Babu, after a
long course of trickery and chicanery, was at length killed by
lightning. Bakreswar went roaming about, making nothing for all
his obsequious flattery. Thakchacha and Bahulya, transported for
life to the Andamans for forgery, were set to hard labour, chained
hand and foot, and at length died after enduring unparalleled
sufferings. The wife of Thakchacha, being left without resources,
roamed about the lanes singing the song of her craft as a seller
of glass bracelets:--

"Bracelets, fine bracelets have I.
Come and buy, come and buy!"

Haladhar, Gadadhar, and the rest of Matilall's old boon companions,
seeing Matilall's altered character, looked out for another
leader. Mr. John, after his bankruptcy, commenced business again
as a broker. Premnarayan Mozoomdar assumed the distinctive dress
of a religious mendicant, and roamed about Nuddea, shouting out:

"To faith alone 'tis given below
Mahadev's secret mind to know."

The husband of Pramada having accepted many hands in marriage[80] in
different places, becoming at length himself empty-handed, came
to Vaidyabati, and lived at the expense of his brothers-in-law,
indulging, to his utmost bent, in every variety of sweetmeat
pleasant to the taste. All that happened afterwards must be left
to be related hereafter.

"Thus my story ends:
The Natiya thorn withereth:"[81]

FINIS.



NOTES.

[1] Kulins. -- Mr. Phillips, in a note to his excellent
translation of "Kopal Kundala," says:--

"Large sums are paid by fathers of girls for Kulin bridegrooms. A
Kulin Brahmin girl, to preserve her caste and social position
intact, must be married to a Kulin bridegroom. So it happens that
Kulin youths are sometimes married to ten or twenty different
wives. They can visit the houses of their numerous fathers-in-law,
and are not only well entertained when there, but expect a present
on coming away. There have been cases in which poor fathers of
Kulin girls have taken them and had them wedded to old men on
the point of death.  They cannot afford to pay for a young and
suitable bridegroom, and it is an indelible disgrace for their
daughters to remain unmarried. On the other hand, Brahmins of
lower family have to pay for a bride. The state of things is
not so bad as it used to be. The feeling of the upper classes
of Hindoos is strongly in favour of monogamy, and a Kulin who
marries many wives is regarded with some contempt and aversion."

[2] _Literally_-- "He has drank down Mother Saraswati at one gulp."

[3] "When a Hindu boy is first initiated into school life, he
is presented with a piece of chalk, a tal leaf and a plantain
leaf"--Bose--"The Hindoos as they Are."

[4] The bracelet on the right hand is one of the signs that a
woman is married, and that her husband is still living; another
sign is a mark on the forehead called the 'sindhoor.'

[5] _Sakhishamvad_-- "Songs expressive of news conveyed to Krishna
by Brinda, one of the Gopis, of the pangs of separation felt by
the milkmaids of Brindabun"-- Bose--"The Hindoos as they Are."

[6] _The Shalgram_.-- A flinty stone with the impression of an
ammonite, which Hindoos think represents Vishnu: it is worshipped
as Vishnu. Some Hindoos make large collections: one man was
reputed to possess a collection of nearly eighty thousand.

[7] _Literally_-- "Has cut a fine canal, and brought all the
waters upon us."

[8] The cat watching for a mouse, the heron and paddy birds for
fish, are all alike regarded as types of hypocritical saintliness,
and as such are largely used as figures in Sanscrit and Bengali
literature.

[9] "A field of _beguns_" is a popular expression for a source of
continual profit, as 'a field of roots' is used for a temporary
source of profit.

[10] _Literally_-- "He had a big heavy hand:" the opposite
phrase used of a generous man is -- "His hand is always turned
palm upward."

[11] The veneration with which Hindoos regard Benares is expressed
in the Sanscrit _sloka_:-- "The heaps of your sins will all be
burnt to ashes if you only name the name of Kashi." All orthodox
Hindus in their inmost hearts, look forward to spending the
evening of their days, if possible, in "the Holy City," where,
after having passed the two periods of their lives in the world
as students and householders, they may pass the last as ascetics,
in reading and meditation.

[12] Gambling has always been popular in the East, and was evidently
so amongst the ancient Aryans. In a translation of Kaegi's Rigveda,
by Arrowsmith, there is a song called "The Song of the Gambler."

[13] The favourite expression of Bancharam, which occurs often
in this book, means literally: "Is this a cake in the hands of a
small child?" The idea being that a cake is easily snatched out
of the hand of a child.

[14] _Literally_-- "Many undertakings getting as far as the 'h'
turn back when just short of the 'Ksha'." In some old grammars
Ksha, instead of being the first of the compound consonants,
as now, was put as the last of the simple consonants.

[15] An old Aryan proverb corresponding to this is: "Even an ugly
man may be found beautiful, when he is rich."

[16] The following vivid description of a nor'wester, as the
storms so common in Bengal in the hot season are called, occurs
in Mr. Vaughan's "The Trident, The Crescent, and The Cross":

"For days, it may be for weeks, the sky has been burdened with
clouds charged with the needful watery stores. Millions of longing
eyes have watched their shifting course and changing forms. Ever
and anon it has seemed as if their refreshing streams were about
to descend, but, as if pent up, and restrained by an invisible
hand, the clouds have refused to pour down the desired blessing:
at length one point of the sky gathers darkness: a deep inky hue
spreads over one-half the heavens: the wild birds begin to shriek
and betake themselves to shelter: for a few moments an ominous
death-like calm seems to reign: Nature appears to be listening
in awful expectancy of the coming outburst: in another instant a
dazzling flash of lightning is seen, followed by terrific rolls of
thunder: a hurricane sweeps across the plains: sometimes uprooting
massive trees in its course, and darkening the air with clouds
of sand and dust: a deadly conflict seems to rage amongst the
elements: the lightning is more brilliant: the crashes of the
thunder more awful: yet the rain does not come. But the strife
does not last long. Now isolated big drops begin to fall: then
torrents of water pour down from the bursting clouds: driven along
the wings of the storm, the rain sometimes appears like drifting
cataracts, or oblique sheets of water. Speedily parched fields are
inundated, and empty rivers swollen. All this takes place in less
than an hour: then the storm abates, the darkness passes away, the
sun once more shines forth: the atmosphere is cooled and purified,
thirsty Nature is satisfied, and all creation seems to rejoice."

[17] Before court-fee stamps came into use, attorneys were
personally liable for fees payable to the court, and in default
of payment they were punished with suspension.

[18] The name given to a continuous supply of _Ghee_ dropping
through seven courses at certain of the Hindoo ceremonies, such
as a child's first eating rice, at investiture with the sacred
thread, and at marriage.

[19] On one night in the month of Phalgun a lamp is kept burning
in all Hindoo households, and if it is extinguished misfortunes
are expected to happen.

[20] The fear that a Hindoo feels lest he shall have no one to
offer the customary libations to his manes and those of his
ancestors is expressed in "Sakuntala." King Dushyanta says:--

"No son remains in King Dushyanta's place
To offer sacred homage to the dead
Of Purus' noble line: my ancestors
Must drink these glistening tears the last libation
A childless man can ever hope to make them."
                Sir M. Monier-William's Translation.

[21] A local name for Durga: most towns in Bengal have some local
deity representing Durga: at Krishnaghar the local deity is
Ananda Maye.

[22] _Literally_-- "Were performing the _shraddha_ of Vedavyasa,"
the reputed author of the Mahabharata.

[23] It was no uncommon thing formerly at great men's houses for
uninvited guests to attend in some numbers, solely for the purpose
of creating a disturbance.

[24] One of the preliminary ceremonies of a Hindoo marriage,
is for the bridegroom elect to put a thread on his right hand,
on the day preceding the night of the marriage (a Hindoo marriage
cannot take place before the evening twilight).

[25] Kankan was the name of a Bengali poet: this name is assumed
for the nonce by the poetaster.

[26] Prahlad is ever a favourite with Hindoos: his story is told
in the Vishnu Purana: there is a capital ballad on him in Miss
Toru Dutt's "Ballads of Hindustan." The story of Prahlad has
been supposed to point to the gradual absorption into the Hindu
system of the aboriginal tribes. The resistance long offered to
that absorption, is supposed to be hinted at in the treatment of
Prahlad by his Daitya parents.

[27] Repetitions of the name of Hari, or Vishnu, made with the
beads of the Tulsi plant: the rosaries are of different lengths:
the common one consists of 108 beads: a pandit once told me he
had seen one of 100,000 beads.

[29] _Literally_-- "They see all round them only the yellow
flower of the mustard plant" -- a man at the point of death
being supposed to see everything with a yellow tinge upon it.

[30] _Literally_-- "To lose his drinking pot, and all for a
cowrie" -- the pot being either of block-tin, or of silver for
holding drinking water, and carried by every Mussulman, and
largely by Hindoos when moving about.

[31] The _Kabiraj_ means that the sick man should be taken to the
banks of the Ganges, that he might die happily with his feet in
the water.  People are often taken to the river bank when very
ill, and left in a small hut, which will be erected for them
there, where, if they are rich enough to afford it, a Pandit is
engaged to watch the pulse; and when the pulse becomes so feeble
as to show death to be at hand, the Brahmin in attendance takes
the sick person to the river and places the feet in the water:
the sick person will then die happy in the full assurance of
salvation. Death is often actually hastened by the zeal with
which the relatives of sick persons hurry them to the river-side,
or, if they are too far from a river, outside the house, for
it is regarded as an happy augury if the sick man dies being
able to think of the sacred waters or even speak of them with
his latest breath. Indeed the phrase; 'He died conscious' is
practically equivalent to, 'He died happy, in the full assurance
of salvation.'  Benares is regarded as so holy a place to die in
that consciousness at death is not regarded as a _sine qua non_
of a happy death: the mere fact of dying in Benares is of itself
sufficient to ensure the feeling of happiness and assurance.

[31] An evil spirit is supposed to depart in a _sirish_ seed
thrown over the shoulder.

[32] "He is utterly unscrupulous:" literally -- "His orthodoxy
is killing cows and making presents of shoes."

[33] The wooden frame is here referred to in which the heads
of goats are put to be cut off with one stroke of the broad
sacrificial knife, with the eye of Kali on it, used for the
purpose; the literal word is "The Bone Cutter."

[34] _Stri-Achar_.--The name given to certain ceremonies which are
gone through amongst the women of a household where a marriage is
being celebrated, the object being to promote conjugal felicity:
one of the ceremonies consists in the ladies of the family taking
_pán_ and betel in their hands and offering up prayers for the
welfare of the bridegroom.

[35] Ram Prasad was a popular poet who flourished at the same
time as Bharat Chandra Raya, who was one of Maharajah Kishen
Chandra's "Five Jewels." Maharajah Kishen Chandra was Maharajah
of Nuddea at the time of Lord Clive: he was a Sanscrit scholar,
and a great patron of learning.

[36] _Literally_-- "Before he had got as far as the initial
mystic salutation to Ganesh, the sacred Om." All business is
commenced with this mystic invocation: it is written at the top
of letters in the form of a crescent with a dot in the centre.

[37] These questions were simply put to see if the patient was
still conscious-- see note 30.

[38] To die conscious in the full possession of all his faculties
is regarded as of supreme importance with a Hindoo, and as ensuring
a happy hereafter; even though a Hindoo may not be dying in the
waters of the sacred Ganges, if he is able to ask the question as
he dies -- "Is this the Ganges that I am dying in?" 'tis enough:
the priest in attendance will reply: "It is the Ganges."

[39] A place supposed to be famous for witchcraft. Some say it is
an old name for Assam.

[40] One of the features of a _shraddha_ ceremony is the assembly
of Pandits, who engage in a dispute more or less factitious, in the
course of which a point arises when they all get so excited that
they almost come to actual fisticuffs; an arbitrator then steps
forward, and the excitement subsides as suddenly as it had arisen.

[41] The point in the supposed argument is to create amusement
amongst the by-standers by the difference in pronunciation of
certain words by Pandits from different districts. The whole
sentence is a jumble of more or less nonsense, designed to
give the speakers credit with the audience for great learning.
The ordinary arguments for discussion amongst Pandits who are
adepts in the Nyaya Philosophy as taught in the Nuddea school are
on the difference between objects perceived by the Senses and
those perceived by the Intellect: it is Gnan versus Vidya. The
discussion here is a humorous travesty.

[42] Tales from the _Mahabharat_ and the _Ramayan_ form almost
the entire mental food of Bengal children.

[43] Jagat Sett was the famous banker of the Nawab Nazims of
Bengal.

[44] The reference is to a story how each drop of blood as it
fell from the Demon Raktabij produced a new demon, and how Debi
and her companions put their tongues out and licked up the blood.

[45] The reference is to an old story about a joint-family:
there were four sons-in-law in the family of whom Dhananjayas
was one. Efforts were constantly made to annoy them to get
them to leave, and three went because their feelings were
offended. Dhananjayas would not go until he was actually beaten.

[46] It is a very common practice in India to give earnest-money
in advance, when making any arrangement with a small tradesman;
it is commonly asked for with the excuse of buying materials,
but the idea really is that of binding or closing a bargain.

[47] This proverb practically means that gentlemen are doing
menial acts, while beggars are riding on horseback.

[48] "Seven" seems a favourite number when reference is made to
wealth. "The Wealth of Seven Kings" is a favourite expression in
Bengali Fairy Tales.

"Ten" in Bengali seems to be used for the whole world, as "Five"
in Sanskrit.  Dash Jan -- "Ten people" in Bengali means everybody.

[49] It is regarded as of evil omen to call a man back when he
has just started anywhere.

[50] The indigenous village schools used to be noted for the
severity of discipline in vogue there: various stories are told of
the ingenuity of the village school-masters in devising ever-fresh
punishment.  One punishment was adopted from the illustrations of
Bala Krishna, who is generally represented as kneeling on one knee
holding something in his right hand, and something on his head;
the poor boy who was to be punished was made to kneel on one knee,
and hold a brick in his upturned hand.

[51] _Literally_-- "Day and night there were cries of 'Let us eat,'
'Let us eat' -- To-day we will eat the elephants out of the
elephant stables, and to-morrow the horses out of their stalls."

The reference is to the popular stories current in Bengal about
the _Rakshashas_ and _Rakshashis_, the ogres and ogresses of our
English childhood.

[52] _Literally_-- "Day and night are still with us." -- The idea
seems to be that the Universe is still in its place, and that there
is still justice in the earth; the popular tradition apparently being
that justice is gradually disappearing from the earth.

[53] The reference is to a rich merchant, who, having on one of
his journeys seen Durga sitting in the form of a woman on a lotus,
in the sea off Ceylon, was punished with solitary confinement for
some time; he was at length released through his son's efforts
and returned home with all his wealth.

[54] _Literally_-- "Their luck is a covering of leaves," --
the idea being that as leaves are easily blown about, so any
slight circumstances may cause an Englishman's luck to turn:
he may be in bad luck at one moment, but he will be in good luck
the next moment.

[55] There is a reference here to a popular belief that Ravan's
funeral pile is ever blazing and in Bengal people closing their
ears can imagine that they hear the sound of the blazing and
crackling, just as children in England imagine they can hear the
sound of the ocean waves that encircle the island, when they apply
a shell to the ear.

[56] These are all signs of poverty in the East: oil has always
been regarded in the East as a sign of prosperity, and we find
it constantly referred to in the Hebrew Bible -- "It is like
the precious ointment upon the head."

The absence of oil on the head is a distinct mark of poverty in the
East. A thin stomach would also be regarded as a sign of poverty in
a country like Bengal, especially where "The fair round belly" of
Shakespeare, and "The front like the front of Ganesh" of the
Bengali, is regarded as a mark of prosperity.  A good story is told
of an Indian client who had full confidence in the English barrister
to whom he had entrusted his case because he was a very fat
individual.

[57] "Don't talk to me of Khod-kast and Pai-kast: I will make
them all Ek-kast."

The remark shows utter ignorance on the part of Matilall of terms
used in connection with landed property in Bengal. Khod-kast is a
cultivator who cultivates his own land: Pai-kast is one who
cultivates land for another: Ek-kast is simply a term invented
by Matilall, and would mean one who cultivates for one.

[58] There is a reference here to a story, found in the Puranas,
a familiar child's tale in Bengal, of a sage who was disturbed in
his quiet meditation by seeing a cat pursuing a mouse: he turned
the mouse into a tiger that it might escape from the cat, but
he very speedily had to turn the tiger back into a mouse again,
as the beast was about to attack and kill him.

[59] Many are the stories told of the wariness of the Indian crow.

[60] There is a beautiful figure taken from a large tree in
Sakuntala; in reference to a king's responsibilities, it is
said:--

"Honour to him who labours day by day
"For the world's weal, forgetful of his own,
"Like some tall tree that with its stately head
"Endures the solar beam, while underneath
"It yields refreshing shelter to the weary."
                Sir M. Monier-William's Translation.

[61] The Harinbati was at one time the place where prisoners used
to pound soorkey, and the phrase "Go to the Harinbati" is still
used in Bengal as equivalent to "Go to jail."

[62] It is a common tradition that if this expression is whispered
in the ear of any one snoring three times, the snoring will cease.

[63] The reference is to the stories told of a brother of Ravan
who was famous as a great sleeper: he is said to have slept the
whole year, except on one day, when he would wake, and eat a
hearty meal of some thousand animals: his name is taken from the
tradition that his ears were as large as water jars.

[64] The first salutation of a Brahman is in the form of a
blessing: his hands are held out before him, palms upward: his
second salutation is the ordinary one with hands folded together
against his forehead, the fingers upwards: this is after his
first salutation has been acknowledged.

[65] The story of these two is found in the Bhagavadgita, which,
with the Chandi or Hymn to Durga, forms the favourite reading of
the class of Pundits.  Many.  Brahmins make a living as itinerary
readers of the Bhagavadgita, or Ramayana: they halt for weeks at
a time at various places, and erect a temporary booth, where they
read and explain to all who may come to hear them: at the end of
a course of reading they are presented with presents: one man in
Patna is reputed to make as much as five hundred rupees for one
course of reading the Ramayana which may take him about six weeks.

[66] One of the verses I have referred to in note 12. "The Song
of the Gambler," runs:--

"The gambler hurries to the gaming table,
"To-day I'll win, he thinks in his excitement,
"The dice inflame his greed, his hopes mount higher,
"He leaves his winnings all with his opponent."

[67] The reference seems to be to the last of the divisions of
the Mahabharat: the divisions are called Parbba.

[68] _Literally_-- "He is sharp enough in the _buri_, but blind
in the _kahan_," -- a _buri_ is equal to 20 cowries: a _kahan_
to 1,600 cowries.

[69] It is a popular tradition that Valmiki, the author of the
Ramayana, wrote his famous epic before Ram was born: thus the
expression practically means: "It was a foregone conclusion."

[70] There is a popular tradition about a small bird, called in
Bengal the Chátak, which sings in the hot weather months: the
tradition is that it drinks only rain-water, and that its song is
a cry to Heaven for rain: this is only one of the many traditions
pointing to the eagerness with which in India the annual rains
are expected. The bird is a small black-plumaged bird, and its
cry exactly resembles "Phatik Jal," which the people interpret as
"Sphatik Jal,": "Water clear as crystal." It is supposed to drink
with its beak raised in the air; a synonym for an anxious man is
-- "He is like a Chátak."

[71] Kankan, the name of the poet, the author of the Bengali
Version of the Chandi, or Hymn to Durga: in the poetical effusion
in the Tale the poetaster assumes the name of Kankan. Valmiki,
the reputed author of the Ramayana. Vyasa, the reputed author of
the Mahabharat.

[72] A reference to the popular tradition how Hanuman won from
Ravan's wife the arrow presented by Brahma to Ravan, and how
Hanuman presented it to Ram for Ravan's destruction.

[73] The wearing of charms is very common amongst all classes in
Bengal: it is still a matter of popular belief that sickness may be
cured, and harm averted, by their use. The actual charm is often a
piece of bark on which a sacred text is written: this is folded in
paper into a very small compass and is worn on a delicate silk
string round the neck, or round the arm.

[74] The author had doubtless read the lines in "Hamlet":--

"Let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp,
"And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee,
"Where thrift may follow fawning."

[75] In Hindu Philosophy, the name given to the third and lowest
of the inherent natural qualities of man, -- is Tamas -- Gloom
or Darkness.

[76] The most profound salutation that a Hindu can make, and
one that denotes absolute devotion of a man's whole body to the
service of another, is one "with the eight members": the members
on which Hindus make religious marks, -- the two hands, the chest,
the forehead, the two eyes, the throat, and the middle of the back.

[77] Women keep their money tied up in a corner of their _saris_:
the expression here means literally "the riches of your skirt;" men
keep their money in a small bag stitched into their waist cloths.

[78] No orthodox Hindu will commence any undertaking of importance,
and some will not undertake even a short journey, without having
first ascertained whether the day will be an auspicious one or
not. The family Guru will be consulted; and even when an auspicious
day has been fixed, the ladies of the zenana will always insist
upon the observance of certain ceremonies. A gentleman of position,
when inviting a guest to visit him, will often send him by special
messenger a slip of paper with the auspicious days for his journey
written down by his Guru either in Sanskrit, or in the current
language of the district.

[79] Shuka was the author of the Commentary on the Vedas, and has
sometimes been identified as Vishnu himself: he is said to have
been the only one amongst many hundred millions of Hindoos who
ever obtained perfect Nirvana: that is complete absorption into the
Deity: the full expression is "Nirvana Mukti," that is, Redemption,
a salvation which consists in perfect absorption into the Deity.

[80] There are several plays upon words in this concluding passage
of the book: in this particular passage the word 'Pani' is used
both for "Hand" and for "Wife": it came to be used in the latter
secondary sense because one of the ceremonies, rendering a Hindu
marriage legitimate, is the ceremony in which the bridegroom takes
the bride by the hand. The use of words and phrases capable of
a double meaning, is very common in Sanskrit writings.

[81] According to a not uncommon custom of ending stories in
Bengal, the author ends his story with the first lines of a song,
which in full is:--

"Thus my story endeth,
The Natiya thorn withereth:
Why, oh Natiya thorn, dost wither?
Why does thy cow on me browse?
Why, O cow, dost thou browse?
Why does thy neat herd not tend me?
Why, O neat herd does not tend the cow?
Why does thy daughter-in-law not give me rice?
Why, O daughter-in-law, dost not give rice?
Why does my child cry?
Why, O child, dost thou cry?
Why does the ant bite me?
Why, O ant, dost thou bite?
            Koot, koot, koot."


GLOSSARY.

_Amlah_.-- A. name for the whole establishment of an office;
sometimes simply for a clerk.

_Arjuna_. -- His story is told in the Bhagavad Gita.

_Ashar_.-- The month corresponding to the English June-July:--
The first month of the rainy season.

_Astrologer_.-- An important person in Hindu households, where
his chief duty is to cast horoscopes on the birth of children.

_Bael_.-- A Egle Marmelos. The fruit of this tree has a very
hard rind, almost as hard as the cocoanut.

_Baya_.-- A drum played with the left hand only.

_Begun_.-- Brinjal/Egg-plant.

_Bhagirathi_.-- A name given to that branch of the Ganges which
lower down becomes the Hooghly. Sometimes used for the Ganges
proper.

_Bhima_.-- A great warrior of the Lunar Race, whose story is
told in the Sanscrit Epic--Mahabharata.

_Bidri_.-- The name given to finely-chased metal ware, which
was originally made at Bidri in the Deccan.

_Budgerow_.-- The name given to a large house-boat used on the
rivers of Bengal.

_Champac_.-- Michelia Champaka. A flowering tree that flowers
in the rains: it bears large and yellow fragrant flowers, and is
a very popular tree.

_Chowkidar_.-- A kind of rural policeman.

_Durga Poojah_.-- The great Autumn festival in honour of the
goddess Durga, wife of Siva, during which all business is suspended
in Bengal for ten days: it affords an opportunity for a re-union
of families.

_Dampati Baran_.-- A form of Shraddha.

_Dan Sagar_.-- Literally "Ocean of Gifts." A form of funeral
ceremony where every guest receives some present.

_Darogah_.-- An Inspector of Police.

_Dewan_.-- A government official, minister, or ruler.

_Druva_.-- A boy of four years old, who went in search of Vishnu
and received a sacred mantra of twelve letters from Narad. Upon
the repetition of this mystic mantra Vishnu appeared to the boy.

_Durryodhan_.-- One of the heroes of the Mahabharat who was
obliged to hide in a Lake called the Dvaipana Lake, to avoid
capture; he was the eldest of the hundred sons of Dhritarastra.

_Durwan_.-- A gate-keeper.

_Eed_.-- A Mahomedan Festival.

_Ghât_.-- The name given to a landing or bathing-place on the
bank of a river, also to a place for burning the dead.

_Gosain_.-- A class of Hindu religious mendicants.

_Gariwan_.-- Hackney coachman.

_Guddee or Couch_.-- The principal seat at an assembly of
notables. "To attain the guddee" is a synonym for succeeding to
a title or to estates.

_Golden Age_.-- The first of the four Hindu Ages. Literally--The
Age of Truth.

_Ghee_.-- Melted butter specially prepared for household cooking
purposes.

_Gomashtha_.-- A land agent, or steward, the headman of the
employees on an estate, or in a factory.

_Hanuman_.-- The monkey-god, a great favourite with Hindus. His
story is told in the great epic--the Ramayana, which, in its
Hindi version by Tulsi Dass, is annually acted in Northern India.

_Hom_.-- An offering of ghee, barley-meal, sandal and rice,
fried over a fire.

_Hori Bol_.-- A cry to Vishnu, as "The Saviour."

_Jelabhi_.-- A sweetmeat made in twists.

_Jemadar_.-- Originally an armed official of a zemindar in charge
of fighting and conducting warfare, mostly against the rebellious
peasants and common people who lived on the zemindar's land. Later,
a rank in the Company's military forces.

_Krishna_.-- The favourite Incarnation of Vishnu.

_Kalidas_.-- The Author of the popular Sanscrit Drama, "Sakuntala."

_Kodáli_.-- A kind of bread hoe, used for breaking up the ground.

_Kabiraj_.-- A Hindu physician.

_Kayasth_.-- man of the writer caste.

_Lanka_.-- A name for Ceylon in the Ramayana.

_Lakshmi_.-- Goddess of fortune and good luck.

_Lathial_.-- One armed with a heavy stick, often employed by
landlords in disputes with neighbours.

_Mohurrir_.-- A clerk.

_Mantra_.-- A verse from the sacred hymns of the Vedas.

_Mahadeva_.-- A name of Siva.

_Mahajan_. -- A money-lender.

_Machan_.-- A platform of bamboo, raised on piles above the
ground.

_Mallika_. -- A species of Jessamine.

_Muktar_. -- An agent, or broker.

_Moulvi_. -- A Mahomedan title of respect meaning 'Learned.'

_Nala Raja_.-- The hero of the Sanskrit Drama, "Nala and
Damayanti."

_Naib_.-- An agent, or deputy of the landlord of an estate.

_Pandit_.-- A learned Brahman, learned in Sanskrit
literature. Regular titles are conferred on Pandits according to
the extent of their knowledge, as tested from time to time by
an assembly of Pandits; one of these meets at the old Sanskrit
University of Nuddea, or Navadwip.

_Phalgun_.-- The month corresponding from February to March.

_Paik_.-- Originally "a runner":-- Men employed by landlords
as messengers.

_Ryot_.-- A cultivator.

_Radha_.-- The wife of Krishna.

_Ramzan_.-- The name given to the Mahomedan Lenten Fast.

_Shravan_.-- The month corresponding to July-August, the second
month of the rainy season, when the rainfall is heaviest.

_Shástras_.-- The name given to some of the Hindu Sacred Books
especially to the Philosophical works.

_Sari_.-- The usual dress of women, made of cotton, or silk,
or muslin.

_Sati_.-- A woman who threw herself on her husband's funeral
pile was known as Sati, "The Chaste One." Sati was abolished
under Lord Bentinck.

_Satya Pir_.-- A Hindu deity regarded by Mahomedans as one of
their saints.

_Saraswati_.-- The Hindu goddess of learning.

_Shorash_.-- A kind of funeral ceremony where sixteen different
kinds of presents are distributed, six kinds being of silver.

_Sephalika_.-- Nyctantes Arbor Tristis, flowering only at night.

_Shraddha_.-- The Hindu funeral ceremony; see Wilkins' "Modern
Hinduism."

_Shal Fish_.-- A fish used in religious ceremonies; it is first
roasted.

_Sheristadar_.-- The Head Clerk in charge of the records of
an office.

_Tol_.-- The name of the indigenous Sanskrit schools.

_Tulsi_.-- Ocymum Sanctum. The basil honoured by all Hindus.

_Tauba_.-- The Mahomedan cry of grief meaning, "I repent me of
my sins."

_Tabala_.-- The name for the drum that is played with the right
hand only.

_Taluk_.-- A portion of an estate, consisting of several villages.

_Udjog Parwa_.-- One of the cantos of the Mahabharat, giving
the preliminary incidents of the Kurukshetra Battle.

_Veda_.-- The name given to the oldest sacred books of the Hindus
meaning "Revelation."

_Vaishnava_.-- A follower of Vishnu; see Wilkins' "Modern
Hinduism."

_Yudishthira_.-- Surnamed "The Incarnation of Virtue." One of
the heroes of the Mahabharat.

_Yama_.-- The Hindu god of Death.