# Vidyasagar, the Great Indian Educationist and Philanthropist/Chapter 1

VIDYASAGAR.
CHAPTER I
EARLY YEARS.
"The child is father of the man."
Some live for themselves and think of nothing but profit and loss. They pass out of memory the moment they return to dust. There are others who eternise their name by taking up the cause of the friendless and redressing the wrongs of mankind. Some make a veritable hell of this earth fomenting discord; while others transform it to paradise, promoting peace. The subject of this biography must be ranked with the latter.
Isvar Chandra Bandopadhyaya saw the light on September 26, 1820, at Birsingha, a petty village on the confines of the Hugli ​and Midnapur districts. His forbears were all poor but vastly learned His grandfather Pandit Ramjoy Tarkabhusan was a man of sturdy independence and exemplary character. Thakurdas Bandopadhyaya, Isvar CHandra's father, a vigorous and sterling nature, had to struggle very hard just to make a shift to live; while his mother Bhagavati Devy was a most admirable woman in every respect, especially noted for the rare qualities of her heart.
Of Isvar Chandra's childhood, a vivid and fairly full account is to be found in his unfinished autobiography. When five years old he was put into the elementary school of the village kept by a sympathetic teacher. The latter was highly delighted to have such a pupil under his tuition, for even at this age he gave clear indications of that keen intellect and remarkable memory which contributed largely to his greatness in later life. Often restive and roguish, he was a terror to the villagers. His parents generally displayed marvellous ​foresight in not foolishly suppressing all these signs of boyish pranks, perhaps thinking that they would disappear as years roll on and the pent-up energies find a fitting channel to flow out. Nevertheless, sometimes they flew into a passion and wanted to chastise and rate him. On these occasions he fled to the unfailing protection of an indulgent grandmother who, like all grandmothers, idolised him.
After finishing the course of study offered by the village school, he accompanied his father to Calcutta to receive higher education. The lad of eight footed the whole distance of over fifty miles and managed to learn the English numerical figures from the mile-stones. On their arrival they put up at Barabazar in the house of an old and valued friend Babu Jagaddurlav Singha. Thakurdas was always out on his calling from nine at morn till the same hour at night. During his absence the little one was looked after by the ladies of the family, particularly by Raimoni, who was invariably ​kind and considerate. Isvar Chandra ever after gratefully referred to the sweetness of her disposition. His father had a mind to put him into the Hindu College. The tuition fee was Rs 5 a month, and he himself was but drawing a monthly salary of ten rupees wherewithal to support the growing family. Yet the thought of pecuniary difficulties did not damp his tender hopes. Conscious of his son's abilities, he wished to give him the best education available. For the first three months nothing was actually done in this direction. The boy was then laid up with an acute type of dysentery. This soon proving very dangerous in spite of medical aid, he was removed to the village home where he completely recovered in three months. Thakurdas now changed his plan and wanted to make a good Sanskrit scholar of him, nurturing the idea that he might in his time open a tole or Sanskrit school in the village. A near connexion of his, a student of the Sanskrit College, pointed out in glowing terms the many ​benefits Isvar Chandra would reap if he passed from his college. A learned professor of that institution also held out dazzling prospects. On the first day of June, 1829 the boy was admitted into that college, which was decidedly oriental in its character. English was in effect excluded from the curriculum. Being but an optional subject, it was taken up with any real keenness by very few. The Government thought that as there was the Hindu College established and maintained by private liberality to impart English education, there should be also some academy for the systematic culture of Sanskrit. This view was shared by many influential members of the orthodox community who saw with extreme uneasiness that most of the youths who left the Hindu College had adopted European manners and customs and abandoned national costumes. To discuss mutton chops and beef steaks, to quaff off glasses of sherry and claret, to garnish conversation with scraps of English, ​were to them the unmistakable sign of a gentleman. Some audacious spirits even paraded the streets with beef in their hands inviting the orthodox to partake of it. They were mostly the pupils and admirers of Mr. Henry Vivian Derozio, fourth teacher of the College, who had in a short time acquired such an ascendancy over their minds that even in their private concerns they took counsel with him. The first glamour of new ideas, ideas other than those sanctioned by ancient tradition, was so irresistible that these misguided youths fancied that the Europeans were the only cultured nations on the surface of the earth and that their motherland would be regarded "civilised" if they imitated the rulers of the country. It never occurred to them that nations do not rise to supremacy by slavishly treading in the footprints of others. To imbibe virtues is an arduous task. In their hurried efforts to pass for cultured men, the young enthusiasts, instead of finding out the intrinsic and essential worth of a great nation, readily ​put on its hollow and shallow externalities. The Government acted wisely when they founded the Sanskrit College in the year 1824. The Governors of the Hindu College, who compelled Mr. Derozio to resign his post for inculcating heterodox principles, did not think it worth while to abolish the college itself, as it was otherwise meeting a real need.
Isvar Chandra was admitted into the Grammar class. In those days the students sat upon mats spread on the floor with their professor occupying the middle, a pillow at his elbow to rest on whenever necessary. They were not required to sit bolt upright for hours together on unpolished or half-polished benches with no backs. Thakurdas used to take the boy to college and bring him back lest he should miss the way or loiter in the streets with idle boys. This was discontinued after some months when he became familiar with the road and knew the set of company he was to shun. Though by his diligence he soon won the admiration ​of the teacher, he could not escape the rude jests of the school-fellows over his short stature and big head. He had yet another cross to bear. His father generally made him sit up very late at night, conning his lessons or repeating them to him. If he ever made the slightest mistake or was found to drowse, he was sure to receive a good thrashing. Thakurdas belonged to the old school which thoroughly appreciated the value of the rod. He was the last person to spoil his son by excessive indulgence. Sometimes the vigorous application of the ferule and the touching shrieks of pain that followed would arouse the inmates of the house who instantly ran up to his rescue. Once belaboured with a cudgel he decamped to find shelter in the house of Babu Ramdhon Ganguly, clerk of his college. At this stage Jagaddurlav Babu considered it his duty to interfere and read the father a lecture. He even threatened to turn him out of doors if he was again found guilty of such indiscretion. This proved a successful ​corrective; the stripling was left practically unmolested. An occasional slap in the face or a box on the ear does not count much.
Isvar Chandra continued in the Grammar department for three years. At the end of the first session he topped the list of successful boys and took the prizes. During the next year he also attended the English class, but finding grave deficiencies in regard to methodical teaching, gave it up after six months, for which he would rue in after life. He again came out first and carried off all the prizes open to him. The last time he barely passed. As he knew his own worth, his honest pride was touched. Mortified to the quick, he purposed to leave that college. But yielding to persuasion he returned to study with fresh vigour and determination, and in six months worked up the Sanskrit Dictionary Amarkosh.
He was only eleven when he entered the belles-lettres class. As he looked younger than his years, the professor at first refused ​to admit him, holding that he would not appreciate Sanskrit poems. He let his objections subside, finding him precocious and of great promise. Both in the first and second year classes he was by far the best boy. He wrote a very pretty hand and could speak Sanskrit with fluency. He also composed some Sanskrit poems, thoughtful and elegant for his age; while his skill in essay-writing was excelled by none.
At fourteen while still in the literary section he, submitting to the will of his parents, took to wife Dinamayi, a charming girl of eight. Her father was endowed by nature with herculean strength of body and was universally admired for his liberal disposition. She proved a capable wife and an affectionate mother
Marriage did not interfere with his studies and he never ceased to be diligent and painstaking. In the Rhetoric class he worked harder than ever, often reading far into the night. Though he scored a brilliant success, illness seized hold of him. He ​was compelled to repair to his rural retreat where Bhagavati Devy soon nursed him back to health. He next attended the lectures on Smriti i.e., Hindu Jurisprudence. This subject, which occupied students of average intellect from two to three years, he fully mastered before six months were out and finally passed. Soon after the post of jurisconsult of Tippera fell vacant. Here surely was a good chance for Isvar Chandra, who applied and was offered the situation. His father, having still in his head the tole project, viewed with strong disfavour his going to a far-off place. A scion of true filial devotion, he suffered that opportunity to slip without a demur. Thereafter he pored over Vedanta philosophy. His professor Sambhu Chandra Vachaspati took a great liking to him and treated him with kindness and familiarity on all occasions. The grey-headed gentleman, a widower, was looking out for a bright damsel. One day he opened his heart to the young disciple. The latter, taking in ​the situation at once and realising that a speedy widowhood was in store for the would-be bride, tried his utmost to dissuade the former from the match. The venerable man had set his heart on it and easily got over all qualms. In due course he married a winsome little girl but it was not his lot to enjoy the longed-for bliss of wedded life. Weighed down with age and sickness he departed the world soon after. And the luckless girl was left a widow just when life was becoming meaningful to her! This unhappy end of happiness made a profound impression on the mind of Isvar Chandra.
After getting up the system of Vedanta he dipped into Nyaya philosophy. While a student he officiated as assistant teacher of Grammar for two months. Toward the close of the year 1841 when he completed his studies, he was honoured with the title of Vidyasagar (i.e., ocean of learning), by which he is commonly known.
Thus he joined the college in his eighth year and after mastering almost all the ​branches of Sanskrit learning quitted it at twenty, radiant with youth, energy, success. The great triumphs of his academic career were not won without great trials. During the whole of this period, he had to dwell amidst the gloomiest of environments. The gentleman with whom he took up his abode gave him an ill-ventilated room, dark and dreary during all seasons of the year. It was a small apartment, furnished in no sense of the term and full of worms and vermin, which were especially troublesome at night. There was hard by a black, uncovered drain, exhaling at all times noisome and pestilent vapours. As Thakurdas had many mouths to provide for out of a narrow income, the food was necessarily insufficient and poor in quality. In general a pice worth of fried rice served as tiffin for four members, and at times even this would not be forthcoming. Iswar Chandra had to attend to all domestic affairs. He did the marketing, cooked the repast, served up the dishes to his father and brothers, scoured ​the plates. It was amidst these unfavorable circumstances that he prosecuted his studies, sometimes banishing sleep altogether and often working far beyond his strength; yet so remarkable was the progress he made that he was regarded a prodigy both by the classmates and the teachers. Add to these a disposition naturally charitable. Forgoing every personal comfort he spent almost the whole of his college stipend in charity. His tender heart was pervious to the sufferings of others and when he was out of cash he would contract a debt to meet their wants and mitigate their woes. "Neither a borrower nor a lender be" may be a good rule for conventional people. The great have their own ways in most things and often conceive a marked dislike to cold and clear-cut maxims. Whenever Isvar Chandra heard of any cases of illness, he was promptly by the bed of pain. Even contagious diseases, of which everybody fought shy, could not daunt his courage nor chill his ​sympathy. To open ragged schools for the street Arabs, to provide better houses for people who dwell in squalid dens of vice and infamy and commit every kind of atrocity without shame or remorse, to reclaim juvenile mendicants from the "Serbonian bog" of corruption "where armies whole have sunk," to find fit work for disabled persons, he spent much of his precious life-blood. There are men so fastidious and conscientious that they never bestow alms lest they should be guilty of indiscriminate charity. They persuade themselves into the belief that mere heartless criticisms would suffice to drain and ventilate the morals of the fallen and the outcast and make for their temporal and eternal welfare. Poor Isvar Chandra had no such worldly scruples and twilight virtues. He was touched to the core of his heart when he saw people in sore straits. The genial current of the soul flowed on unchecked even by chill penury. At times it broke the dam of limited income and inundated the country around, ​scattering joy, spreading plenty. This serene benevolence, which he inherited in part from his mother, became one of the most salient traits of his character in manhood.
One of his eccentricities, born of latent energy and innate firmness, may be noted here. He was now and then very wayward and intractable, for which Thakurdas gave him a sound beating often enough. Finding him still incorrigible, he had recourse to a new device. When he wished the child should do a thing, he had only to forbid him to do it. For a time the plan answered his purpose admirably but the younger gradually saw through it. There was in consequence a change in his tactics. What was really desired was left undone. All reformatory schemes failing, the devoted father at last left him to himself. He did not realise that the invincible self-will would in large measure bestead Isvar Chandra in years to come and the apparent blemish might be convertible into a shining merit. ​The fact is great men even in their childhood seldom like to be commanded. They are born to inspire, to lead, to rule. The annals of all countries declare that these men were regarded more or less eccentric before they rose to eminence. Their peculiar ways puzzled their contemporaries. But when they came to appreciate the sublimity of their character, they respected their oddities and bowed down in worship.