# The Spoilt Child/Chapter 7

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! 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 en​amoured 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 Batatala, 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 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 lawsuits, 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 your 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 did'nt 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 Bhishna 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 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.