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.