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!_"