"And you, pray? Is not your husband in the Company's service?"
"Yes," rejoined Mrs. Damzè; "but you forget the C.B.!"
Let us now return to the Honourable Lieutenant Infantry. When that officer came up, and led away Lady Gallopaway to supper, Damzè was overheard to say, "I'll take the shine out of that young gentleman." And, if taking the shine meant constantly bullying the subaltern, Damzè certainly kept his word. And when the next hot weather came, and the Lieutenant wished to accompany his sick wife to the Hills, Damzè, when he forwarded the application for six months' leave of absence, wrote privately to the Assistant Adjutant-General, and recommended that it should not be granted. The honourable subaltern, however, was rather too strong for his colonel, in the way of interest. Presuming on the acquaintance which existed between his father and the Commander-in-Chief, he wrote a letter to that functionary, and a few days afterwards found himself in general orders. The wrath of Damzè may be easily imagined, especially as he had boasted to several of his officers of having put a spoke in the Lieutenant's wheel. And by way of throwing salt upon the Colonel's wounds, the Lieutenant called upon him, and, in the politest manner possible, inquired if there was anything he could do for him at head-quarters.
While at Agra, a Bengalee Baboo called upon me. Judging from his appearance, I should have guessed his age to be about fifty years; but he was upwards of seventy. He spoke English with marvellous fluency and accuracy, and could read and write the language as well and as elegantly as any educated European. He was, perhaps, the cleverest Hindoo whom I encountered during my sojourn in the East. His manners were peculiarly courteous and winning, and there was an air of penitence about the man, which, apart from his abilities, induced me to treat him with kindness and consideration. His name was—let us say—Nobinkissen.
The history of Nobinkissen was simply this. He was a Brahmin of the highest caste, and, at the age of eighteen, was a writer in the service of the government, on a salary of ten rupees per month. He ingratiated himself with every civilian under whom he served, and gradually rose, step by step, until he became the Sheristadar, or head clerk, of a circuit-judge of a court of appeal. In this office he acquired riches, and was still adding to his store, when his official career was brought prematurely to a close.
I must here inform the reader that not one civilian in a hundred, no matter what his rank or grade, can read and write Hindostanee or Persian, although the majority of them have some colloquial knowledge of both those languages. Yet, as a matter of course, they append their signatures to every document of which, on hearing it read aloud to them by their native officials, they approve. Their orders they dictate orally; those orders are transcribed by the Sheristadar, who gives them to a native writer to copy. This done, they are read aloud for correction or approval, and then signed in English by the covenanted civilian. Before leaving office every day, such civilian may have to sign fifty, sixty, or a hundred documents; for the rule is, not to sign each of them when read, but to sign them in a mass at the breaking-up of the court. Here Nobinkissen invented his means of money making. Whenever the judge gave a decree in any case of importance, he made a counterpart of such decree, and when the signing time came, obtained, without any sort of trouble or inquiry, the signature of the Sahib and the seal of the Court to both documents. He was thus, to all intents and purposes—or, at all events, for his own—in possession of something tantamount to the fee-simple of the lands in dispute. He could arm either the appellant or the respondent with the final decree of the Court, under the hand and official seal of the judge. The only question with him now was, which of the litigants would give the most money, and to each, in private, and in the Sahib's name, he exhibited the documents. The highest bidder, of course, gained the day, whereupon Nobinkissen took the coin, handed over one of the decrees, and burnt the other.
It fell out that Nobinkissen was attacked with fever, and, in a state bordering on delirium, he parted with, that is to say, sold, to both respondent and appellant, a decree, under the hand and seal of the judge, such decree arming the holder with the power to take possession of a very large estate in Bengal. Each party, fearful of a disturbance, which often occurs when possession of an estate is sought for, applied to the magistrate of a district, under a certain regulation of government, for assistance, in order to enable him to carry out the judge's decree, which each, as a matter of course, produced. The magistrate was naturally much perplexed, and made a reference to the judge, who could only say he had signed but one decree. There was then a report made to the government by the magistrate. An investigation ensued, and the judge was, meanwhile, suspended, for great suspicion lurked in the minds of many that he was not so innocent as he affected to be. When Nobinkissen recovered from his sickness, and saw the dilemma in which his superior, the judge, was placed, he made a clean breast of it, and confessed that the guilt was his, and his alone. Nobinkissen was tried, convicted, and sentenced to be imprisoned in irons for the term of his natural life. For nine years he was in the gaol at Alipore, near Calcutta. At the expiration of that period he was called upon to furnish some information of which he was possessed, in relation to certain public affairs. He was brought from the prison, confronted with several officials, amongst whom was a member of the council. His altered appearance, his emaciated form, his attitude of despair, and the intelligence and readiness with which he responded to the questions put to him, touched the hearts of those by whom he was examined, and the member of council, who has been since a director of the East India Company, spoke to the Governor-General, and eventually obtained Nobinkissen's pardon and release. The Hindoos and Mussulmans in India (like the Arabs) do not regard being guilty of a fraud or theft as a disgrace. The degrading part of the business is, being convicted, and Nobinkissen, on being set at liberty, could not face his countrymen in Bengal, and therefore retired to the Upper Provinces, where he lived in comparative obscurity, and in easy circumstances, for he had not disgorged his ill-gotten gains. His wife had taken care of them during his captivity.
At the time that Nobinkissen called upon me, the government of India were in considerable difficulty in respect to finance. A new loan had been opened, but it did not fill, and the government had very wisely determined upon closing it. Nobinkissen made this a topic of conversation, and his views—albeit they came from a man who had been convicted of a fraud—are, at the present time especially, entitled to the very gravest consideration.
"Ah, sir!" he remarked, "it is a pitiful thing that the government of a great empire like this should ever be in pecuniary difficulties and put to their wits' end for a few millions annually, in order to make the receipts square with the expenditure."