As though some swindling financier in this country should perpetually retain a leading K.C. to terrorise ruined shareholders from seeking redress. Thus may our Western watchdogs of the law be turned into wolves - -in frock-coats and old white tennis-shoes with the laces undone. not to wear in the Middle and recalcitrant tenants. Temple an old pair of white canvas shoes with the laces unfastened, nor such a deprecatingly hang-dog smile. Perhaps responsibility did not weigh upon him then. Now, he went in terror of the Rajah and the Rajah's mother and the Rajah's brother and the two-year-old light - chocolate heir of the Rajah. To all of these, and to anybody else whom it seemed well to propitiate, he presented a cowed appearance which was-for a Barrister-at-law of the Middle Temple-unusual and even disconcerting. I know he disconcerted the Collector. When I discussed Mr Chundar later with that official, he declined to see the humorous side of him. He said that it was revolting that Babus should be granted what is known in Bengal to be an English distinction, in order that they may qualify as upper servant to a sprig of Bengal nobility. He said that if Benchers realised the kind of work undertaken by the natives they admit as barristers, they would devise some means of preventing this honourable degree from being granted to creatures (I am afraid he said creatures) who can do nothing but lower it The keen Northerners (and with it the idea of English had not brought of their best honours generally) in the mind to this Southron market. We of his fellow-countrymen. There saw more of these animals on is something in this view. the following day, for after the There are, I believe, Bengali opening ceremony we were Babus-barristers-at-law-em- escorted to a small circular ployed by Zemindars who can afford them just in order that their legal attainments may be be held as a menace over oppressed All the same, we were grateful for the appearance of Mr. Chundar at that point in the Fair, for he spoke English, and though he did not sympathise with us, and appeared to be a little shocked by our desire for peace and privacy, he did, when I insisted, rid us of the policeman. Left to ourselves, we went up and down the booths. It was essentially a country Fair-a Fair for the ryot,-and though there were some local industries represented, "Made in Birmingham" or "Made in Germany stared at one from most of the stuffs and wares. Not so with the animals, of course. Neither Frankfurt nor Birmingham can produce live elephants or camels, and the ponies were all native. Fairly good elephants were to be had for about two thousand rupees. The camels were poor and thin. racecourse, set in the middle of the Fair, to witness some camel races. When I say "we," I mean the Collector and friends and Rajah and suite. We took our seats on a set of drawingroom furniture upholstered in green brocaded satin, which had been brought from the Rajah's house and placed ready for us under a canopy. A local band was also ready for us, and struck up "God save the King" as soon as we appeared. The tune was sonorously rendered, but the bandsmen had not that esprit de corps that some conductors insist on, and several of the musicians wandered into other tunes that may have been more beautiful but did not tone in. Perturbed, perhaps, by the music, the first contingent of camels, four in number, refused to start. Their riders did their best, and the Barrister-at-law, in his white tennis-shoes, addressed them at some length, at first imperiously and then with tears in his eyes, but the camels would not budge, and had to be withdrawn. neck-and-neck race; then two of them hit their shins against the hurdles between which they were racing, and collapsed like a pack of cards. There is nothing goes down so dramatically and so completely as a camel. The third creature was made of sterner stuff. Annoyed by being compelled to start, and enraged by the strains of the band, the brute, without stopping, turned its head right round and made maddened efforts to eat its rider. It was an interesting sight, the unfortunate rider slipping farther and farther back to escape that long snarling neck, the camel galloping ventre à terre, with its head serpentined round, and its nose and lips all mixed in a spitting, biting fury. It was better than a race; it was a duel, and we watched it fascinated. Would the camel complete the circle without devouring its rider, or would the latter, by deft tugging, Graceful conversation by the bring it to a stop? The unexRajah carried us over this pected happened. pected happened. Rider and little hitch, and the second line camel both being taken up by of camels was brought forward. their internecine strife, forgot Again the band struck up, and that their course lay between again the camels exhibited a hurdles, and in the midst of puritanical objection to racing. a peculiarly vicious snap lost The Barrister-at-law became their direction and knocked a frantic; he skipped in his hurdle down. For a moment tennis-shoes and waved his the camel paused, startled by arms commandingly. His the noise and the presence of efforts were useless. The the excited onlookers. Then bandsmen, entranced by this perceiving directly in front of struggle of wits between the it the Rajah and ourselves—a Babu and the beasts, strayed strange and offensive groupinto all sorts of keys and tunes, it came straight at us, screamsome of them forgetting to ing with passion. With replay altogether. Suddenly markable presence of mind we three of the camels started. all rose at once and placed the For some ten yards they ran a drawing-room suite between beast. ror. ourselves and the infuriated was not wholly apparent to the naked eye. But the idea of the prizes, which was to encourage the cattle industry in the district, was the district, was an excellent one, I thought, until the English policeman told me that the prize winners this year were the same as last, and belonged to the Rajah's own tenants, for the reason that they could be made to give back the prizes (presented by the Rajah in rupees) more promptly and easily than could the tenants of outsiders. Another six paces and it would be on us. The band had ceased to play, the crowd hummed with suppressed horIn the distance I saw the Barrister-at-law awaiting with horror-struck eyes and clasped hands the inevitable catastrophe. Then with a superhuman effort the rider gave a last tug at the rope - bridle, and the camel fell in folds before us. "I think he ought to get the prize," said the Collector's wife to the Rajah, as we reseated ourselves with all the dignity possible under the circumstances. The Rajah smiled courteously, and said that the camel was an animal uncertain to ride, but useful, especially in the North. Still, he cast a menacing look at Mr Chundar when that Barrister-at-law came up to regret the unfortunate issue of the camel race, and to consult his Honour as to whether this camel, as having kept its feet longest, was to be adjudged the victor, or whether it should be disqualified, as having maliciously made for his Honour's party with intent to damage. The Collector's wife decided sportingly in favour of the fighting camel, and the band seized this moment to give us "God save the King" again. To restore us we had tea and cake of the wedding pattern handed round, and after that we inspected the prize-winning cattle. The prize cow gave two and a half quarts of milk, and the second gave two, and their prize-worthiness I hoped that this was eynicism, and since I had eaten the Rajah's salt, in the shape of wedding-cake, I felt sure that it must be. No doubt there is a temptation in Bengal to appear charitable without being so. There is a temptation in all countries, but Bengal has its peculiar variety. How? It is a vast place, with many landholders in it, all filled with an amiable desire to distinguish themselves. In order to become distinguished under the British Raj it is well to assist the common-weal in some form. Charity, such as is involved in the offering of prize-money for cattle breeding, is a simple and straightforward form of assisting the commonweal. But suppose that you are but a poor man, though a landholder. Why, then be charitable still, but drop the straightforwardness. It is just as simple not to be straightforward. Give the prize-money as before, but see that you get it back again. If that is too extreme a thing to do, and it is, there are many other ways in which charity in Bengal works out a little less simply than it is supposed to do. You will perhaps meet a rich Zemindar who puts down his name for a large donation to some well-advertised and well-advertising public work, and forgets to forward the cheque when called upon. Another will send a generous yearly subscription -for the first year only. I seem to be wandering from the Fair, and the chief event in it, which was the performance of "Hamlet." It took place later in the day, beginning at eight o'clock, and lasting until after midnight. It was a Command Performance, to which the Rajah had invited us, and it was therefore not to be witnessed without due ceremonies. We had "God save the King" as we entered, and were ushered by the Barrister-at-law to the drawing-room suite in green brocaded satin from which we had been privileged to watch the camel-fight. It was now the front row of the stalls in the big marquee that constituted the theatre. We had "God save the King" about two minutes later, when the Rajah and party entered, and someone explained to me that this loyal repetition of our National air was due to the fact that we should of course rise for it at the moment of the Rajah's entrance, and the Bengali audience would thereby be made to think that we stood up to acknowledge the greatness and superiority of that small Indian potentate. Hardly were we all seated when Clothilde and I, being less experienced than the rest, leapt from our seats as a bomb exploded one pace from us, followed by two more in swift succession. They were, were, of course, only salutes - tributes to our combined importance,but they left me somewhat deaf for the rest of the evening. I cannot say I was sorry for this, because of the orchestra. The orchestra was composed of two players. It was not the band of the morn ing, that had made the camels so restive. That band was somewhere outside, and was only used when "God "God save the King" was required. The inside orchestra consisted of (1) a harmonium-player on the left wing of the stage; (2) a tom-tom player on the right. For many minutes that evening these two monopolised our attention. The harmoniumplayer was 8 young, slim Bengali in a coat and dhoti, patent-leather shoes, and what used to be called in England a polo cap-a brown, pork-pieshaped cap set jauntily on one side of his head. His action on the harmonium was inimitably careless and graceful. No European master, I venture to think, has ever expressed such contemptuous mastery over his instrument. would play it with one hand, daringly, as a novice rides a bicycle to show off to a friend, while with the other he fetched betel from his waist-band and transferred it to his mouth; or he would, in an ecstasy of abandonment, crash both fists on to the harmonium, crossing the keyboard and coming back He again before one could stiffen one's muscles to bear it. I have not heard a musician like him either before or since. I am not skilled in music, nor do I know the Indian notation. But one is accustomed to regard the harmonium as a sober instrument. Conceive it in all its long-drawn, reverberating fulness attacked by something as wild as a jungle-cat, as heavy as a jungle-boar, and you have some idea of the excruciating sounds which that young man in the polo cap extracted from it. Compared with him the tom-tom playera square person, who sat on a small kitchen-table, with his bare feet protruding into the stalls-was a soothing nonentity. When he played his loudest which he often did he only slightly subdued the nerve-stretching ululations of the harmonium-player. Moreover, they rarely combined or got on to their stroke together. I could not make out the rules, but I fancy they played when they felt like it. When the harmonium was too intent on betel-chewing to play up, the tom-tom droned away for a few minutes. When the harmonium, refreshed by the leaf, dashed himself at the most discordant notes he could find, the tom-tom took a breathingspace. Sometimes, like two omnibus - drivers moved to rivalry, they raced one. other on their respective instruments, but there was never any question as to which won. The tom-tom was distinctly second fiddle. an What-it may be asked had this orchestra to do with "Hamlet"? What as far as that goes-has any orchestra to do with "Hamlet"? As a matter of fact, this pair was pretty busily engaged, for "Hamlet" in Bengali is-if I may attempt a definition-a musical tragedy of imbroglio. Whenever the action palled (and there was lots of action) one of the players sang a song not so much accompanied by the orchestra as defied by it. Hamlet himself was the only man that had a chance against the harmonium, and that was due to the penetratingly nasal quality of his voice. Again, I have never heard any one so nasal as Hamlet. He reminded me sometimes of a Swiss yodeler heard near by; sometimes of a Venetian boatman singing "Funicoli-funicola" on the water outside one's window. He never reminded me of Hamlet. Here, before I enlarge upon the acting, I will set down, act by act, the programme of the play, of which the plot was specially printed for us in English, so that we might understand. "The plot in short," it is called. It lies before me as I write. I give it as printed. "The first scene opens with the King chatting with the Queen in a room in the castle. He then feels drousy and subsequently falls asleep; whereupon, the Queen sends for her husband's brother Farrukh and induces him to drop poison in his ear. The King dies of its effects, and the Queen gives out, importunately attributing the cause to a serpent's bite. Jahangir mourns his father's death and Akhtar, his friend and associate, comforts him.” |