A Bayard From Bengal<br />Being some account of the Magnificent and Spanking Career of Chunder Binda by F. Anstey (websites to read books for free .TXT) 📖

> Note.—I can offer no explanation of this allegory, except to
remind the reader that the Phœnix is the notorious symbol for a
fire insurance.—H. B. J.

"Alas!" sighed the Learned Pig, while expiring from inflammation of the brain, brought on by a laborious endeavour to ascertain the sum of two and two, "Why, why was I cursed with Intellect?"

"I shall know better another time!" gasped the Fish, as he lay in the Landing-net.

A certain Merchant sold a child a sharp sword. "Thou hast done wrong in this," remonstrated a Sage, "since the child will assuredly wound either himself or some other."

"I shall not be responsible," cried the Merchant, "for, in selling the sword, I did recommend the child to protect the point with a cork!"

A certain grain of Millet fell out of a sack in which it was being carried into the City, and was soon trampled in the dust.

"I am lost!" cried the Millet-seed. "Yet[129] I do not repine so much for myself as for those countless multitudes who, deprived of me, are now doomed to perish miserably of starvation!"

"I have given up dancing," said the Tongs, "for they no longer dance with the Elegance and Grace that were universal in my young days!"

"But for the Mercy of Providence," said the Fox, piously, to the Goose whom he found in a trap that had been set for himself, "our respective situations might now be reversed!"

"She really sang quite nicely," remarked the Cuckoo, after she had been to hear the Nightingale one evening, "but it's a pity her range is so sadly limited!"

The Mendicant insisted on making his Will:[130]

"But what hast thou to leave when thou diest?" cried the Scribe.

"As much as the richest," he replied; "for when I die, I leave the entire World!"

Note.—This is (if not incorrectly translated) a grotesque and puerile allegation. The veriest tyro is aware that when a Millionaire hops the twig of his existence, he leaves more behind him than a mere Mendicant!—H. B. J.

"Forgive me," said the Toad to the Swallow, "but, although you may not be aware of it, you are flying on totally false principles!"

"Am I?" said the Swallow meekly. "I'm so sorry! Do you mind showing me how you do it?"

"I don't fly myself," said the Toad, with an air of superiority. "I've other things to do—but I have thoroughly mastered the theory of the Art."

"Then teach me the theory!" said the Swallow.

"Willingly," said the Toad; "my fee—to you—will be two worms a lesson."[131]

"I can't bear to think that no one will weep for me when I am gone!" said the sentimental Fly, as he flew into the eye of a Moneylender.

Note.—Cf. Poet Byron: "'Tis sweet to know there is an eye will mark Our coming, and look brighter when we come!"—H. B. J.

A certain Cockatrice, feeling sociably inclined, entered a Mother's Meeting, bent upon making himself agreeable—but was greatly mortified to find himself but coldly received.

"Women are so particular about trifles!" he reflected bitterly. "I know I said 'Good Afternoon' with my mouth full—but, as I explained, I had just been lunching at the Infant School!"

"I want to be useful!" said the Silkworm, as she sat down and "set" a sock for a Decayed Centipede.[132]

A Traveller demanded hospitality from fourteen Kurds, who were occupying one small tent.

"Enter freely," said the Kurds, "but we must warn thee that thou wilt find the atmosphere exceedingly unpleasant—for, by some inadvertence, we have greased our boots from a jar of Attar of Roses!"

Note.—Once more I do not entirely fathom the Fabulist's meaning—unless it is that such a valuable cosmetic as Attar of Roses may become so deteriorated as to offend even the nostril organ of a Kurd.—H. B. J.

A certain Basilisk having attained great success in petrifying all who came under his personal observation, there was a Scheme set afoot to present him with some Token of popular esteem and regard.

"If we give him anything" said the Fox, who was consulted as to the form of the proposed Testimonial, "I would suggest that it should take the shape of a pair of Smoked Spectacles."[133]

Note.—The Satire here, at least, is obvious enough. Smoked spectacles are a very inexpensive gift.—H. B. J.

"How truly the Poet sang that: 'we may rise on stepping-stones of our dead selves to higher things!'" remarked the Chicken's Merrythought, when it found itself apotheosised into a Penwiper.

Note.—A young lady, that shall be nameless, once presented me with a very similar penwipe, which represented a Church of England ecclesiastic in surplice and mortar-cap.—H. B. J.

"I shall not have perished in vain!" gasped an altruistic Cockroach, immediately before expiring from an overdose of Insect Powder, "for, after this fatality, the Owners of the House will doubtless be more careful how they leave such stuff about!"

Note.—British Cockroaches, however, resemble Emperor Mithridates [134] in being totally impervious to beetle poison.—H. B. J.

The Sheep was so exceedingly tough and old, that the Wolf had thoughts of becoming a Vegetarian.

Note.—When we see some person attaining Centenarian longevity, we are foolishly inclined to fancy that, by adopting their diet, we also are to become Methusalems!—H. B. J.

A certain Ant that had lost its All owing to the sudden collapse of the Bank in which its savings were invested, applied to a Grasshopper for a small temporary advance.

"I am sorry, dear boy," chirpily replied the Grasshopper, "that, although I am playing to big business every evening, I have not put by a single grain. However, I will get up a matinée for your benefit."

This he did with such success that, next winter, the Ant was once more sufficiently prosperous to discharge his obligation by offering the Grasshopper a letter to the Charity Organisation Society!

Note.—The application of this is that a kind action is never [135] really thrown away.—H. B. J.

"I never feel quite myself till I've had a good bath!" said the Bird whom an elderly Lady had purchased from a Street Boy as a Goldfinch.

And behold, when the Bird came out of its saucer of water, it was a Sparrow!

Note.—Like many Philosophers, Piljosh would seem to have had no great liking for ablutions. But water which could transform a Goldfinch into a Sparrow must previously have been enchanted by some Magician, so that our Parabolist's shaft misses fire in this instance (as indeed in many others!). Possibly, however, his Translator has once more proved a Traitor!—H. B. J.

"Pride not yourself upon your Lustre and Symmetry," said the Jet Ear-ring austerely to the Pearl, "for, after all, you owe your beauty to nothing but the morbid secretions of a Diseased Oyster!"

"I am sorry to spoil your moral," retorted the Pearl with much suavity, "but, like yourself, I happen to be Artificial."

Note.—Inhabitants of glassy mansions should not indulge in [136] lapidation.—H. B. J.

"Come!" said the Peacock's Feather proudly to the Fly-flapper and the Tin Squeaker, as the final illumination flickered out and they lay in the gutter together, limp and exhausted with their exertions in tickling and generally exasperating inoffensive strangers. "They may say what they please—but at least we have shown them that the Spirit of Patriotism is not yet extinct!"

Note.—This must refer to some Cryptic customs prevalent in the Parabolist's time. But I do not clearly apprehend what connection either tickling, fly-flapping, or squeaking can have with Patriotism!—H. B. J.

Last Words

Here conclude the Parables of Piljosh, together with the present volume. That the former can possibly obtain honble mention when compared with the apologues of Plato, Æsop, Corderius Nepos, or even Confucius, I cannot for a moment anticipate, and none can be more sensible than my humble self[137] how very poor a figure they cut in proximity to the production of my own pen!

However, indulgent critics will please not saddle my unoffending head with the responsibility, the fact being that I was vehemently advised that, without some meretricious padding of this sort, my Romance would not be of sufficient robustness to produce a boom.

But should "A Bayard from Bengal" unfortunately fail to render the Thames combustible, I should rather attribute the cause to its having been unwisely diluted with such milk and watery material as the Parables of Piljosh.

So, leaving the decision to the impartial and unanimous verdict of popular approval, I subscribe myself,

The Reader's very obsequious and palpitating Servant,
Hurry Bungsho Jabberjee, B.A., etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.

 

PRINTED BY
TURNBULL AND SPEARS,
EDINBURGH

Author's Notes on Illustrations:

AUTHOR'S NOTE ON ILLUSTRATION No. I.

(Frontispiece).

Had Mr Bernadhur Pahtridhji taken the very ordinary precaution to consult myself upon the etiquettes proscribed by smart society, I should infallibly have saved him from so shocking an exhibition of his ignorance.

As it is, I can only say that of course a highly cultivated Indian gentleman like Mr Bhosh would not dream of presenting himself at any upper-class entertainment—even a Baronet's—in so free and easy a garbage as a smoker's jacket. Were he to be guilty of such want of savoir faire he would inevitably incur some penalty kick or other.

Moreover, at these functions the hired musicians are never compelled to remove their shoes and stockings.

Another correction I hazard with rather less confidence, as I am unable at this moment to consult any authorised work on ducal head coverings. But I am practically certain that all the duchesses whom I have had the privilege to encounter at fashionable soirées wore coronets surmounted with golden balls, and of an altogether different pattern from the very humdrum concern which Mr Pahtridhji has thought proper to represent on the Duchess of Dickinson's cranium.

I fear I must again ask the critic's kind indulgence for an illustrator who has only too obviously never figured as the hailfellow well-met in aristocratic London saloons.

H. B. J.

AUTHOR'S NOTE ON ILLUSTRATION No. II.

As I feared, a tolerably keen eye will detect, almost at a glance, that my young native illustrator—though undeniably gifted—has little or no personal acquaintance with the English surroundings he so rashly professes to depict.

Very curiously, he has succeeded just where I should have expected him to fail, and vice versâ!

For the students are quite correctly represented in their collegiate caps and robes, whereas the police-officer is furnished with far too excessive a superfluity of weapons, nor do policemen in England, to my knowledge, wear plumes in their helmets, or chest-protectors embroidered with the initials E.R.

But it is in the presentment of the irate cow that Mr Pahtridhji displays the most inexcusable ignorance. The merest tyro could have informed him that animals of this Brahminical type are very unfamiliar objects in Anglo-Saxon landscapes!

H. B. J.

AUTHOR'S NOTE ON ILLUSTRATION No. III.

If a story is to be judged by the style in which it is illustrated then truly will all professional Fox-chasers after beholding this picture jump to the conclusion that the Author has foolishly undertaken to write upon topics concerning which he is the total ignoramus!

But if such captious critics will only do me the ordinary justice to refer to the printed text they will find that I am not responsible for such a childish blunder as representing that any English Sportingman would run a fox to the earth mounted upon a camel.

Nor am I to blame because Mr Pahtridhji, with characteristic native conceit, has chosen to depict a purely British episode as taking place in scenery of an Oriental character.

However, to give the devil his due, my illustrator has drawn other parts of the picture—especially the attitude of Mr Bhosh—with considerable spirit and fidelity to the Author's conceptions.

H. B. J.

AUTHOR'S NOTE ON ILLUSTRATION No. IV.

The duelling incident has already been found fault with by certain superficial criticasters, on the alleged ground of its improbability at so modern a period as the present.

I will only reply that I am not addicted to describing—even in fiction—manners and customs of which I have had no personal experience, and also drop a hint that some such duel may actually have taken place in London not so many years ago (though, of course, under a rose without the presence of any reporter), and that a native gentleman, who shall be nameless, may possibly have figured as hero on that occasion.

I have not many remarks to offer on this illustration, which is sufficiently true to Nature to pass muster.

Monkeys are not usually permitted to be present at these encounters, but it is quite credible that the one in the picture was a particular pet of Duchess Dickinson's and therefore the chartered libertine.

Only I am strongly of opinion that she would have ordered him off the line of fire, for fear that he might receive his quietus from some stray bullet.

Mr Bodgers ought not to have been drawn in a sun-helmet. He wore, of course, the more ceremonious covering of chimney-pot pattern. But poor Mr Pahtridhji could not perhaps be expected to know this!

H. B. J.

AUTHOR'S NOTE ON ILLUSTRATION No. V.

Once more I stand agog before the overweaned self-confidence with which Mr Pahtridhji sets out to depict scenes and episodes requiring the most exhaustive familiarity with West End London habits, if the artist is to escape the risum teneatis of a shocking fiasco!

There is scarcely any habitué of Hyde Park who could not point the finger