# The Spoilt Child/Chapter 23

CHAPTER XXIII. Matilall at Sonagaji.
At Sonagaji there was a Mahommedan mosque: it had long since become the abode of ghosts, and was everywhere covered with lichen, while jungle crows and mynahs had built their nests in different parts of it. These were now bringing food to their young ones, who were chirping merrily. The mosque had been left unrepaired for many a long day: the only sounds heard there at nightfall were the cries of jackals and the howling of dogs: no one remembered having ever seen a light in any part of it.
Near this ruin a village teacher used to instruct some of the village children, whose necks were generally enveloped in woollen comforters; and whatever the extent of the education they were receiving, they were at least frightened put of their lives by the sound of the cane. It was only necessary for a boy to lift his eyes off his book, or to eat something out of his lap, for the stick to fall at once with a whack on his shoulders. It is a human failing for a man armed with authority in any matter, to think that he must constantly display that authority in various ways lest his dignity should suffer; and so it was that the old village school-master loved to collect a crowd round him, in order to make a display of his sovereignty. When he saw people going by, he would look in their direction and raise his voice to its highest pitch, and then, if a crowd collected, his self-importance increased till there was no limit to it: no wonder therefore that there was a very heavy punishment for any trifling fault on the part of ​ the boys. A village school under such a master pretty nearly resembles the Hall of Yama. Besides the constant sounds of slapping and screaming, and cries of "Oh Guru Mahashay! Guru Mahashay! your pupil is present," one boy will get his nose tweaked, another his ear pulled, another will have to carry a brick in one hand, another will be caned, another may be strung up by his thumbs, while a stinging nettle will be applied to another: some form of punishment or other is continually in force[50]. The honour and glory of Sonagaji used to be kept up solely by the village school-master whom I have mentioned. Just on the outskirts of the village, a few beggars, who had been at it all day long, used to congregate in the evening, wearied by their day's labour, and lie down, singing snatches of songs softly to themselves.
Such was Sonagaji. Since Matilall's auspicious arrival, however, the destiny of the place had undergone a revolution: there was all the stir and bustle attending a great man's movements: the air was full of the prancing of horses, the loud beating of drums: there was an eternal munching of delicate sweetmeats: feasting and revelry went on unceasingly by night and by day, and the people of the place began to prostrate themselves before the great man.
It is very difficult to know Calcutta people well: to the outer world, many of them appear all that is respectable, like mangoes with a fair outside. They can assume a vast variety of characters. Money is at the bottom of all this: where that is in question, countless are the shifts and turns resorted to. Man's nature is so frail that he worships wealth out of all proportion to its worth. People make herculean efforts to become recipients of the favour of any man reputed to be wealthy; and ​ whatever may be necessary for them to say or to do to accomplish their object, there are no shortcomings on their part.
People of all grades took to visiting Matilall. Now there are some men, like the Brahmans of Ula, who at once go to the point with unblushing frankness, so that there is no mistaking their meaning. Others, again, like the good people of Krishnaghar, expend much ingenuity in embroidering their remarks, and only after a good deal of beating about the bush will they introduce the real object of their visit, and then very delicately. Others, like our friends of Eastern Bengal, are very careful and deliberate in their procedure: they at first assume an appearance of indifference and disinterestedness, plunging their real object deep in the Dvaipana Lake, and when after a long interval their special intention is revealed, it turns out that the real object of all their coming and going was after all a pecuniary one,-- some present or other that might hereafter be exchanged for cash. Matilall had only to sigh, and the visitor with him at the time would snap his fingers, by way of warding off the evil omen: if he but sneezed, his visitor would say: "May your life be prolonged." If Matilall called for a servant, the sycophant would scream out: "Ho there! Ho there!" and in answer to every remark of Matilall's, no matter what it was, he would say: "Whatever your honour says must be right."
From early dawn till long after midnight people crowded about Matilall: every single moment of the day they were either coming or going: the staircase leading to his reception-room was constantly creaking beneath the heavy tramp of their shoes. Every moment fresh supplies of tobacco were arriving; smoke issued from the room at all times as from the funnel of a steam ship: the servants ​ were so terribly worried, they were at their wits end. Night and day, in one continuous succession, dancing, music and all sorts of boisterous fun were kept up.
The dignity of the village school-master was quite eclipsed by all this stir: till now he had been the turkey-cock; now he had become but the tiny tailor-bird. There would be a good deal of noise at times when he was teaching his boys, and Matilall, hearing this one day, said to his companions:-- "Why is that idiot making so much noise? I escaped in boyhood from the annoyance of a school-master: why must have I another near me now? Away with him quickly." The young Babus taking the hint, very soon brought about the disappearance of the village school-master from the scene by the simple expedient of throwing brickbats at him; and the village school was in consequence broken up. The boys of the school, thinking it a happy release, took up their bundles of palm leaves, and having ridiculed their old school-master to their heart's content, ran breathlessly home.
Just about this time, Mr. John opened his house of business: the firm was known as John and Company. Matilall was the chief agent of the house, Bancharam and Thakchacha managers. The Saheb showed great attention to his chief agent for the sake of his money, and the chief agent for his part would pay occasional visits to the office with his companions. He generally came about three or four in the afternoon, chewing pán, his eyes red and inflamed, and after walking about and prying into everything, would go home again. The Saheb had not a pice to his name, and depended entirely upon Mr. Butler for his support: but he rented a house in Chowringhee, and filled it with a great variety of furniture and pictures: he also bought splendid carriages, fine horses and dogs, all on credit, and amused himself by ​ training and running race-horses. Later on he married, and frequented the best society of the place, wearing a gold chain and a diamond ring. Seeing all this display, many people were firmly persuaded that Mr. John was a wealthy man, and had no hesitation in having monetary transactions with him; but a few persons, of higher intelligence, knowing the real state of his affairs, were more cautious, and would have nothing to say to him. Many of the Calcutta merchants get their living by brokerage: they may be either freight brokers, or they may buy and sell Government paper or goods generally, their commission being several rupees in every hundred. Many others, acquainting themselves with the market prices current in Calcutta and elsewhere, do affairs on their own account; but to manage this, they must have already learned the details of business, as otherwise their business cannot prosper. Mr. John had no capacity for business at all: he was persuaded that he only had to purchase goods to dispose of them at a profit: as a matter of fact, his only object was to enjoy himself and play the rich man at the expense of others. He thought trade a very simple thing: he only had to fire enough bullets, and game was sure to fall to one or other.
The chief agent was even worse in this respect than the Saheb: he was blankly ignorant, without any education to speak of, and understanding nothing whatever of accounts: consequently, to do business with him was so much lost labour. Mahajans, brokers, and shopkeepers were continually going to him with patterns of their goods, informing him of the fluctuations in prices, and giving him the latest market intelligence: all the time they were talking business, he would be gazing vacantly about him, completely at sea. He never answered any of their questions, doubtless for fear that anything he might say ​ would betray his ignorance: he would refer them to Bancharam and Thakchacha.
There were a few clerks in the office, who kept all the accounts in English. Matilall having one day expressed a wish to have a thorough examination of the English cash-book, had it fetched for this purpose by one of the clerks, then having just looked into it casually, shoved it aside. He generally occupied a room below the office: this being rather damp, the cash-book, having been kept there over a month, soon got completely ruined. The young Babus too used to tear leaves out of it and twist them up into spills for daily use; and very soon they were all used up in this way, the cover only remaining. When search was afterwards made for it, it was found to be the mere shadow of its former self: it was reduced to a mere skeleton,-- bones and hide, as the saying is, sacrificed in the service of others.
Mr. John bewailed and lamented the loss of his cash-book, but kept his grief locked in his own breast. He exercised no discrimination in the purchases he made, when he began to export largely to England and to other countries, and took no trouble to find out the real cost of the goods, or what would be the margin of profit. Bancharam and Thakchacha saw their opportunity, and made many a successful stroke of business for themselves: they soon waxed fat on their gains[51]. A small draught is never sufficient to relieve great thirst. These two, as they sat together in secret consultation, had only one object in view, and that was to increase their gains by every possible means in their power. They well knew that the opportunity would never recur again. The springtide of their gains would soon pass, and the winter of want might come: no time like the present.
Within a year or two, very bad news arrived of the sale of the goods: instead of a profit there would be a loss, which Mr. John, to his confusion and dismay, estimated ​ at a lakh of rupees. He had himself been spending nearly a thousand rupees a month, and was besides heavily in debt to several banks and money-lenders. For some months past, indeed, the firm had only been kept going by a variety of shifts: now the fair bark of outward respectability was altogether swamped. It was impossible to keep up appearances any longer, and it soon became notorious that John and Company had failed. The Saheb went off with his wife to Chandernagore, a place under French rule, to which, even to this day, debtors and criminals betake themselves to escape imprisonment. The money lenders and other creditors thereupon came down upon Matilall. Look where he would, Matilall could see no way out of his difficulties: he had not a single pice he could call his own: he had been living entirely on credit. He could come to no decision one way or the other at this juncture. He was constantly on the look out for a visit from Bancharam Babu or Thakchacha, but "confidence in a dear friend is as a knife in the left hand" says an old proverb: it was idle to look for any aid from them: they had vanished before the smash.
When the creditors were referred to them they only answered that all the accounts were in Mati Babu's name: they had had no dealings with the others, regarding them as agents only. Owing to all this confusion in his affairs, Matilall fled one night in disguise with his companions to Vaidyabati. The people of that place, when the news reached them of the outcome of Matilall's trade enterprises, all clapped their hands, and cried: "This is grand news: there is still justice on the earth[52]: what meaning would the terms right and wrong have, if such a fate had not befallen so wicked a man,-- a man who has cheated mother, brother, and sister,-- a man to whom no sinful action has come amiss?" ​
It so chanced that Premnarayan Mozoomdar was bathing the next day at the Vaidyabati Ghât: seeing Tarka Siddhanta there, he remarked to him: "Those wretched fellows, after having squandered all their substance, have had to take to flight, to escape a warrant for their apprehension, and have returned here: they are not ashamed to appear in public again. A fine instrument for the ruin of his family has Baburam bequeathed to the world." Tarka Siddhanta replied: "The village has been tranquil all the time those boys have been away: alas! that they should have returned at all. Had mother Ganga only shown us a little favour, how happy we might have been!" Several other Brahmans were bathing at the ghât at the same time: their teeth began to chatter in terror when they heard the news of the return of the young Babus, and they thought to themselves:-- "Henceforth we may expect to have to confide into Sri Krishna's keeping our daily ablutions and devotions." Some small shopkeepers, as they looked towards the ghât said:-- "Ah sir! we heard that drums would beat when Mati Babu returned with his seven ships laden with treasure: yet we cannot see so much as a fisherman's dinghy approaching let alone a cargo-boat." Premnarayan replied:-- "Do not be anxious; Mati Babu, like Srimanta Saudagor[53], has obtained a place of temporary retirement, because of the difficulties caused by Kamala Kamini. Is not the Babu a very estimable person? Is he not the chosen son of the fair Lakshmi! His dinghies, his cargo-boats, and his ships will soon appear, and you will hear the sound of the drums, while preparing your parched rice and pulse."