CHAPTER X.
The titles of his Excellency General Jung Bahadoor Coomaranagee in England—Extraordinary notions of the British public on Indian affairs—Jung Bahadoor’s conciliatory policy—Our unsuccessful attempt to penetrate beyond the permitted boundaries—Dangerous position of the Prime Minister—His philanthropic designs—Great opposition on the part of Durbar—Native punishments—A Nepaulese chief-justice—Jung’s popularity with the peasantry and army.
The rumours in England during Jung Bahadoor’s short residence there—of who he was, of what position he held, of his having taken his greatest enemies with him to keep them from conspiring against him while absent—of his being at least a Prince, if not the Rajah himself in disguise—were as far from correct, and as improbable, as were the numerous stories related of him in the newspapers, many of which had no foundation whatever, and in no way redounded to his credit.
The subject, however, of so much speculation was generally too much pleased with his notoriety to care for the means which in some measure obtained it for him; and I have heard him repeat with great glee some imaginary anecdote of himself, or laughingly enumerate the various appellations by which he had been known. Amongst the few words of English which he could pronounce were those by which he was most frequently addressed—such as, the Prince, the Ambassador, your Highness, your Excellency, the Minister, Jung Bahadoor, Jung, or more often “the Jung.” Whilst the appearance of the Coomaranagee Polkas showed an unusual amount of correct information on the part of the publisher.
Such ignorance might have been expected from the utter indifference manifested in England towards Indian affairs. The ideas of John Bull upon the subject are often ludicrous in the extreme, as he finds it impossible to divest himself of the preconceived notions which he surely must have been born with when he pertinaciously imagines that all dark-coloured people have woolly heads and thick lips, and speak the broken English of the negro; nor has he the slightest conception of the relative position of great towns in India, or which States are independent; or who the Nizam is, or if his contingent is not some part of his dress; or whether the Taj is not the husband of the Begum mentioned in Pendennis. He has a vague notion that nabobs come from India, and has heard perhaps of cabobs, but what the difference is, or whether they are not articles of Indian export usually packed in casks, he has not the most remote conception. For all the light, therefore, that John Bull could throw upon the subject of who or what Jung Bahadoor was, besides being the Nepaulese ambassador, or where the country was that he came to represent, it might remain a mystery to the present day.
But even supposing the public were better informed on Indian affairs, it would not be a matter of surprise that they should be under a misconception as to what Jung’s position in his own country might be, seeing that it is not usual amongst European nations to send their prime ministers on foreign missions. But to estimate correctly the minister’s power and authority, the word “send” perhaps ought not to be used in this case, since he was a self-appointed ambassador; and his next brother was left by him to perform the arduous duties attendant on the important office which he vacated for a while.
And now that he is returned to resume the reins of government, and once more become involved in the petty intrigues of his highland court, it is natural that he should look back with delight, not unmingled with regret, at the wonders he has so lately witnessed—the, to him, magical effects of the operations of steam—the still more incomprehensible electric telegraph—our institutions—our court—the magnificence of the successive entertainments, of which he could say “Magna pars fui,” and at which he was not more the spectator than the spectacle: but, above all, was it a matter of astonishment to him that such hospitality should have been shown to an unknown and ignorant stranger by a nation whose enterprise is no less stirring than her resources are vast, and in the midst of a social machinery to him so incomprehensibly intricate in its details.
“Why,” he would observe after his return to Katmandu, “should I attempt to tell these poor ignorant people what I have seen? It would be as ridiculous in me to suppose they would believe it as it is hopeless to attempt to make them understand it.” And he feels that the information he has acquired has been too extensive to allow him to sink to the level of those by whom he is surrounded. But, while anxious to increase his popularity, with his attempts at conciliation is combined a patronizing air, which he cannot conceal, and which is calculated to render him unpopular, even could he bring himself to return to the old system of embracing instead of shaking hands; of taking off his shoes when entering the Durbar; of salaaming ere he addresses his Monarch—all which acts of devotion and homage are repugnant to the man who has had an interview with the Queen of England, and received a visit from the Duke of Wellington. “When that great warrior called upon me,” he says, “I felt it to be the proudest moment of my life:” and at Benares, when, upon the occasion of his visiting a native Rajah, there was a question of whether he should go in state or not, he decided the matter by saying, “I shall go just as I went to return the Duke’s visit;” or, at another time, “I will receive the Rajah in a friendly way, just as I did the Duke when he called upon me.” Nothing seemed to impress him so deeply as the absence of all display where genuine greatness rendered it unnecessary; and he looks with no slight contempt upon the pomp to which he in common with his court was formerly so much attached. That court, however, retaining of course its old unenlightened sentiments, looks with suspicion and distrust on the independent manners of the returned prime minister. “He has become a Feringhee.”—“He wants to introduce their barbarous customs amongst us.”—“He brings visitors, and is making friends with the English, in order to betray us to them.” This is said by his enemies at court; and, while they watch his every action, esteem him a traitor, who, if they did but know it, is the best friend of their country. Thus, in spite of his earnest desire to promote its welfare, he is likely to be thwarted, and his ardent and somewhat impatient temperament will not, it is to be feared, improve matters, however good his intentions may he. That he is already careful lest he offend any prejudices, I had a convincing and most annoying proof.
On the journey through India, while in high spirits, out shooting, he had promised to allow us to travel over any part of Nepaul we might wish to visit—a permission never yet granted to any European. To the fulfilment of this promise we naturally looked with no small pleasure; but, after a residence of a week in Nepaul, the anti-Anglican feeling was so strongly manifested, that the mere fact of four or five European visitors having been in Katmandu (for Lord G--- and his party were among his guests) brought upon him a certain degree of odium.
To allow strangers to visit Nepaul, and reside at Katmandu, was unusual, but bearable; the idea of a common beef-eater infringing the limits of a circle beyond which no British resident, much less traveller, had ever penetrated, was so monstrous a heresy on the part of the prime minister—so serious an infraction of a well-established rule—that even Jung felt it to be too unpopular an act by which to celebrate his return to his country. It was with much regret that we were obliged to relinquish so interesting an enterprise. I must not, however, forget his offer to adhere to his promise if we wished it, saying at the same time that his doing so would seriously compromise him. But, as compromise and decapitate may be looked upon as synonymous terms in Nepaul, we felt that it was hardly fair to our kind host to place him in such an awkward position; and as, moreover, the effect of his being so compromised in Katmandu would have probably entailed upon us a precisely similar fate, we considered it hardly fair to the guests either. But while thus hanging back from his promise on the score of compromising himself, I am fully persuaded that personal considerations had but little to do in the matter. He is looking out for means of usefulness, and it was more the fear of retarding his schemes of improvement by thus increasing the popular discontent that induced him to change his mind, than any hope of retaining his head upon his shoulders. The difficulty of doing this can be but very slightly increased; and it must be admitted that he esteems life as lightly in his own case as he formerly did when others were concerned.
It cannot but be regretted that with so pure an object he should be totally without co-operation from any quarter. The young King, capable only of aiding in nefarious schemes, such as those already recounted, can in no way comprehend the new-fangled philanthropic views of the prime minister: He cares little about the welfare of his country; his amusement seems to consist in concocting and executing bloody designs, and his mind must be so accustomed to this species of excitement that it can scarce do without it. It is unfortunate that the Rajah’s hobby should lie in this peculiar direction, more unfortunate still that the contemplated victim should be Jung; for I presume that there is little doubt that the King’s brother, who was engaged in the last conspiracy against the minister’s life—which took place a few days after my visit—must have acted with the knowledge, and most probably at the instigation, of his Majesty.
Nor can Jung look to his brothers for support as in times of old: one of them, whom he esteemed amongst the most faithful, was, as before mentioned, deeply implicated in the same attempt on his life; and there is no one now on whom he can confidently depend in the hour of need except the two youngest of the family, who accompanied him to England, and whom I consider thoroughly devoted to his interests. Deserted by his King, who owes his throne to him, his life conspired against by one of his own brothers, bound to him by the yet stronger ties of blood, he stands alone a mark for the dagger of any one who would win the approval of his degraded Sovereign. But his bearing is not the less bold, or his eye less piercing, as he makes the man quail before him who is that moment planning his destruction. He anticipates the fate of his fourteen predecessors; they were all assassinated! His predecessors, however, did not surround themselves with a guard armed with rifles always loaded. [{121}] In all probability the man who takes the life of the prime minister will do so at the price of his own. So securely guarded is he, and so careful of his own safety, that I cannot but hope he may live to frustrate the designs of his enemies, and to carry out that enlightened policy which, while it morally elevates the people, would develop the resources of a country possessing many natural advantages, in its delightful climate, fertile soil, and industrious population. Valleys unvisited by civilization save as received through the medium of a few semi-barbarous travellers, may contain treasures which they are now unknown to possess; mines of copper, lead, and antimony, now clumsily worked, may be made to yield of their abundance; tracts of uncultivated lands be brought into rich cultivation, and efficient means of transport would carry their produce far and wide through the country. Katmandu itself would be on the high road for the costly trade of Chinese Tartary and Thibet with the provinces of Upper India.
In fact it is impossible to enumerate the various benefits which would accrue to the country were a different system of government adopted; and it is much to be feared that unless the present prime minister lives to accomplish the task he has undertaken, no one of his successors, for some time to come at least, will have either the will or the ability requisite for its successful consummation.
In some of his legislative acts Jung had shown himself to be in advance of his age before he left Nepaul. No less than twenty-two punishments for various crimes, principally consisting of different modes of torture, were abolished. A thief must have been three times convicted of the crime ere he can suffer the penalty entailed upon the offence, viz., loss of his hand; and after it is cut off, he has his choice between having it bound up or allowing himself to bleed to death. I understood the latter alternative to be the one usually chosen by the culprit. Gambling is strictly prohibited in Nepaul, except for four or five days during the celebration of the Devali.
Women are not liable to capital punishment. The mutilation of noses no longer exists, although some years ago it was the most usual punishment, and one village was entirely peopled by the unfortunate victims of such barbarous treatment.
The amount of labour which his position as prime minister entails upon Jung is almost incredible; the simplest bargain cannot be struck, nor a cooly engaged, nor can a departure or an arrival take place, without his sign manual. In fact he comprises within himself the whole of the ministry, besides doing the entire duty of the several departments, and the office of premier in Nepaul can be no more a sinecure than it is in England. One can only wonder that a position fraught with such imminent danger to its possessor, and bringing upon him such incessant trouble and responsibility, should be so eagerly sought, when it entails the almost absolute certainty of a violent death. With us moral courage is an indispensable quality for a prime minister; in Nepaul, physical courage is no less needed. If he is a good shot, and expert with his kukri and kora, so much the better for him. As regards both these accomplishments Jung was eminently qualified for the post he now holds; but his literary acquirements were of a very low order, for upon becoming prime minister he could neither read nor write. Finding great inconvenience from his incapacity in these respects, he applied himself diligently to his alphabet, and was soon able to carry on all official correspondence of any importance to himself. The whole of the political, fiscal, and judicial communications are submitted to him, and the departments controlled by him, very little regard being had to the Rajah’s will on the subject.
The next officer in rank to Jung Bahadoor is his brother, Bum Bahadoor, who bears the mark on his hand of the horrible action in Durbar already recorded. He appeared inferior in ability to his brother, but it is difficult to judge of the talent of any one who is in a subordinate position in Nepaul.
The Raj Guru is the highest spiritual dignitary in Nepaul, and in that capacity received the greatest deference from every one, including Jung, whose popularity in some measure rests on his intimate relations with the chief priest, to whom he invariably paid every mark of respect. The Raj Guru met us at Benares, and granted indulgences to those who had visited England. So great is the respect shown him, that upon entering his presence the prime minister invariably touched with his forehead the foot of the holy man. To the office of spiritual adviser to the Rajah is added that of judge of the spiritual court, which is one of great emolument, arising chiefly from fines levied on the infraction of religious ceremonies or ordinances—such as the killing or maltreating of a cow and other like enormities.
Next in order follow the Kazies, or “Patres conscripti,” who ought to possess some voice in the administration of affairs, but are content to remain silent during the independent rule of the Minister Sahib. They number thirty or forty, and their duty is to consult upon all weighty matters connected with the Government, while some act as governors of provinces, others as judges in important causes.
Then come the Sirdars, who also decide causes, and possess considerable authority in the more remote districts, governing some of the provinces, and superintending the collection of revenue. Their number is far larger than that of the Kazies.
We visited the supreme court one day and saw the Chief-justice, or Durma Dikar, sitting cross-legged (smoking his hookah on the verandah), the court having adjourned. The old man bore that venerable appearance which is everywhere esteemed inseparable from the judicial character, and I doubted whether his long grey beard was not a more imposing, as it certainly was a more natural and graceful, appendage than a wig.
There are six law courts in Katmandu, presided over by Sirdars and Bicharees, and the laws and modes of punishment are very effectual for the prevention of crime; for although a prisoner cannot be convicted except upon his own confession, he may be subjected to an ordeal which will most probably extort it; and, perhaps, in an eastern country justice is more effectually administered by such methods than where the judge decides on the guilt or innocence of a man by speculating on the character of the witnesses, and believing those who look most as if they were telling the truth; and where, although he knows that all the witnesses are more or less bribed, he is not allowed to take any but a voluntary admission from the prisoner, when perhaps a little gentle persuasion would save a great deal of unnecessary trouble, to say nothing of the amount of lying that might thus be dispensed with. Whatever the laws may be, they seem to give perfect satisfaction to the inhabitants, who cannot be called a litigious race.
While we were at Bisoleah, on our way to Katmandu, an interesting instance occurred of the prime minister taking the law into his own hands; and, as far as we could judge, complete justice was done to the parties. A complaint was preferred by a deputation of the peasantry of the Terai against one of the sirdars who was a member of his suite, and who had been governor of some part of the district before he had accompanied the minister on his expedition to England. It was alleged that he had, in connection with his brother, who was an especial favourite with Jung, defrauded them of 25,000 rupees. This charge was indignantly denied by the two sirdars. The case was fully entered into, and the result was, that Jung became convinced of the justice of the claim of the peasantry. He had no sooner satisfied himself on this point than he ordered both the noblemen to be placed in confinement, where they were to remain until the required sum was forthcoming. The affair delayed us twenty-four hours; and I perfectly well remember wondering at the time what could be the cause of a detention for so long a period in so unpleasant a locality; more especially as by it we lost the chance of a day’s rhinoceros shooting, which was, doubtless, as great a disappointment to Jung as to myself.
By thus carefully protecting the interests of the peasantry he has endeared himself to them, since they are always sure of a ready and attentive hearing of any complaint, although it may affect the highest nobles in the land. In talking to a man who acted as guide on our return through the Terai, we discovered that the popularity of Jung, arising from this cause, had extended across the frontier, and had induced my informant to migrate into the Nepaul dominions, so that he might benefit by the paternal rule of its prime minister. He said the taxes were lighter, and he led altogether a more happy and independent life than in the Company’s dominions, where the native officers employed as tax-gatherers do not always display the most scrupulous honesty.
But it is not with the peasantry alone that Jung is so deservedly a favourite. With the soldiers he is, if possible, still more popular. An admirer of Napoleon, he has profited by the perusal of his life, and turns to advantage his knowledge of the influence possessed in so wonderful a manner by one whom he seeks in every respect to imitate, so far as the difference of position admits. That he has succeeded admirably with the army there is no doubt. His personal feats of daring and known courage are considerable aids to an imitation of the more scientific means employed by his great model.
Thus, firmly seated in the affections of the most important portions of the community over which he rules with unlimited power, and a most ardent wish to improve their condition, it will be on all accounts most deplorable if the country is deprived of the services of so valuable a man by some vile plot, emanating from the petty intrigue of a jealous and disappointed Durbar.