This is an euphonious oriental title, suggestive of some amiable qualities which are eminently calculated to adorn and elevate human life. A Bengalee Baboo of the present age, however, is a curious product composed of very heterogeneous elements. The importation of Western knowledge has imbued him with new fangled ideas, and shallow draughts have made him conceited and supercilious, disdaining almost everything Indian, and affecting a love of European Æsthetics. The humourous performance of Dave Carson, and the caustic remarks of Sir Ali Baba, give graphic representations of his anglicised taste, habits and bearing. Any thing affected or imitated is apt to nauseate when contrasted with the genuine and natural.

The anglicised Baboos are certainly well-meaning men, instinctively disposed to move within the groove traditionally prescribed for them, but the scintillation of European ideas and a servile imitation of Western manners have played sad havoc with their original tendencies. Ambitious of being considered enlightened and elevated above the common herd, their improved taste and inclination almost unconsciously relegate them to the enchanted dream-land of European refinement, amidst the ridicule of the wise and the discerning. Society now-a-days is a quick-shifting panorama. Old scenes and associations rapidly pass away to make room for new ones, and prescriptive usages fall into oblivion. A new order of things springs up, and new actors replace the old ones. The influence of the aged is diminished, and the young and impulsive seize with avidity the prizes of life, forgetting in their wild precipitancy the unerring dictates of cool deliberation. "The hurried, bustling, tumultuous, feverish Present swallows up men's thoughts," and the momentous interests of society looming in the Future are almost entirely disregarded. The result necessarily carries them wide of the great object of human life. They forfeit the regard and sympathy of their fellow countrymen whose moral and intellectual advancement they should gradually strive to promote by winning their love and confidence.

As a man of fashion he cuts a burlesque figure by adopting partly Mussulman and partly European dress, and imitating the European style of living, as if modern civilization could be brought about by wearing tight pantaloons, tight shirts and black coats of alpaca or broadcloth. He culminates in a coquettish embossed cap or thin-folded shawl turban, with perhaps a shawl neckcloth in winter. He eats mutton chops and fowl curry, drinks Brandy panee or Old Tom, and smokes Manilla or Burmah cigars a la Francaise. Certainly the use of those eatables and drinkables is proscribed in the Hindoo Shastra, and an honest avowal of it will sooner or later expose him to public derision, and estrange him from the hearts of the orthodox Hindoos. A wise European, who has the real welfare of the people at heart, will never encourage such an objectionable line of conduct, because it is per se calculated to denationalise. To be more explicit, even at the risk of verbosity, it should be mentioned that Baboos resident in Calcutta not unjustly pride themselves on being the denizens of the great Metropolis of British India, which is unquestionably the focus of enlightenment, the centre of civilization and refinement, and the emporium of fashion in the East. People in the country glory and console themselves with the idea that in their adoption of social manners and customs they follow the example of the big Baboos of Calcutta. Although the fashions of Hindoo society in Calcutta do not change with the rapidity they do in Paris and London, monthly, fortnightly and weekly, yet they vary, perhaps, once in two or three years, and even then the change is partial and not radical. Slowly and gradually, the Hindoos of Bengal have abandoned their original and primitive dress, which consisted of thin slender garments, suited to the warm temperature of the climate at least for the greater part of the year, and adopted that of their conquerors. A simple dhootee and dubjah, with perhaps an ÁlkhÁlÁ on the back and a folded pugree on the head, constituted the dress of a Bengali not long before the battle of Plassey. The court dress was, indeed, somewhat different, but then it was a servile imitation of that of a Rajpoot chief or a Mussulman king. When Rajahs Rajbullub, and Nubkissen, and Suddur-ud-din, a Mohamedan, attended the Government House in the time of Clive and Hastings, what was their court costume but an exact copy of the Mussulman dress? Even now, after the lapse of a century and a half, they use their primitive dress at home, viz., a dhootee and an uraney. An Englishman would not easily recognise or identify a Bengalee at home and a Bengalee in his office dress, the difference being striking and marked. But the establishment of the British rule in India has introduced a very great change in the national costume and taste, irrespective of the intellectual revolution, which is still greater. Twenty years ago the gala dress of a Bengalee boy consisted of a simple Dacca dhootee and a Dacca ecloye, with a pair of tinsel-worked shoes; but now rich English, German and China satin, brocade and velvet with embossed flowers, and gold and silver fringes and outskirts, have come into fashion and general use. It is a common sight to see a boy dressed in a pantaloon and coat made of the above costly stuffs, with a laced velvet cap, driving about the streets of Calcutta during the festive days. Of course the more genteel and modest of the class, sobered down by age and experience, do not share in the juvenile taste for the gaudy and showy. As becomes their maturer years, they are satisfied with a decent broadcloth coat and pantaloon, with a white cloth or Cashmere shawl pugree, more in accordance with simple English taste. But both the young and the old must have patent Japan leather shoes from Cuthbertson and Harper, Monteith & Co., or the Bentinck Street Chinese shoemakers, the laced Mussulman shoes having gone entirely out of fashion. Nor is the taste of the Hindoo females in a primitive stage as far as costliness is concerned. Instead of Dacca Taercha or Bale Boo?a Sari, they must have either Benares gold embroidered or French embossed gossamer Sari, with gold lace borders and ends. It would not be out of place to notice here that it would be a very desirable improvement in the way of decency to introduce among the Hindoo females of Bengal a stouter fabric for their garment in place of the present thin, flimsy, loose sari, without any other covering over it. In this respect, their sisters of the North-Western and Central Provinces, as well as those of the South, are decidedly more decent and respectable. A few respectable Hindoo ladies have of late years begun to put an unghia or corset over their bodies, but still the under vestment is shamefully indelicate. Why do not the Baboos of Bengal strive to introduce a salutary change in the dress of their mothers, wives, sisters and daughters, which private decency and public morality most urgently demand? These social reforms must go hand in hand with religious, moral and intellectual improvement. The one is as essential to the elevation and dignity of female character as the other is to the advancement of the nation in the scale of civilization.

The Lancashire and German weavers have ample cause to rejoice that their manufactured colored woollen fabrics have greatly superseded the Indian Pashmina goods—Cashmere shawls not excepted,—and European Cashmere, broadcloth, flannel, hosiery and haberdashery are now in great request. From the wealthiest Baboo to the commonest fruit seller, half hose or full stockings are very commonly used. This forms an essential part of the official gear of a keranee (writer) of the present day, though he is now seen without his national pugree or head dress.

A Bengalee Baboo is said to be a money-making man. By the most ingenious makeshifts he contrives to earn enough to enable him to make both ends meet, and lay by something for the evening of his life. He is generally a thrifty character, and does not much mind how the world goes when his own income is positive. He lacks enterprise, and is therefore most reluctant to engage in any haphazard commercial venture, though he has very laudable patterns amongst his own countrymen, who, by dint of energy, prudence, perseverance and probity, have risen from an obscure position in life to the foremost rank of successful Native merchants. He is destitute of pluck, and the risk of a commercial venture stares him in the face in all his highways and byways. In many cases he has inherited a colossal fortune, but that does not stir up in his breast an enterprising spirit. He seeks and courts service, and in nine cases out of ten succeeds. The sweets of service, and the prospect of promotion and pension, slowly steal into his soul, and he gladly bends his neck under the yoke of servitude. It is a lamentable fact that he is a stranger to that "proud submission of the heart which keeps alive in servitude itself the spirit of an exalted freedom." As a vanquished race, subordination is the inevitable lot of the Natives, but it is edifying to see how they hug its trammels with perfect complacency.

The English Government is to the people of Bengal a special boon, a god-send. Almost every respectable family of Bengalee Baboos, past or present, is more or less indebted to it for its status and distinction, position and influence, affluence and prosperity. The records of authentic history clearly demonstrate the fact that the Baboos of Bengal have been more benefited by their British rulers than ever they were under their own dynasty. Instances are not wanting to corroborate the fact. The love of money is natural in man, and few men are more powerfully and, in many cases, more dangerously influenced by it than the people of this country. "It is a thirst which is inflamed by the very copiousness of its draughts." Possession or accumulation does not sufficiently satisfy it.

Experience and observation amply attest the truth of the following current saying among the Hindoos of the Upper Provinces, viz., "Kamayta topeewallah, lotetah dhoteewallah," the meaning of which is, the English earn, the Bengalees plunder. To be more explicit, the English continue to extend their conquests, the Bengalee Baboos participate in the loaves and fishes of the Public Service. In a dejected spirit of mind, a Hindoosthanee is often heard to mourn; he addresses a Sahib in the most respectful manner imaginable, by using such flattering terms as "Khodabund, garibparbar," but in nine cases out of ten the Sahib scornfully turns away his head; when, on the contrary, a Bengalee gir gir karkay dho ba?h sanay diya, i. e., jabbers to him a few words, he patiently listens to him, and signifies his acquiescence in what he says by a nod. In his boorish simplicity, the Hindoosthanee concludes that the Bengalee Baboos are well versed in charms, or else how do they manage to tame a grim biped like a Sahib.

With a view to remove this erroneous impression, which until recently was so very common among the inhabitants of the Upper Provinces, and the existence of which is so prejudicial to the general encouragement of education throughout India, as well as to the impartial character and high dignity of the paramount power, the local Governments have been directed in future to select for public service all the educated Natives born and bred up under their respective Administrations in preference to the Bengalees. Thus the aspiration of a Bengalee Baboo, so far as Public Service is concerned, is now restricted within the limits of his own Province.

A Bengalee Baboo is an eager hunter after academic honors. The University confers on him the high degrees of B. A., M. A. and B. L., and he distinguishes himself as a speaking member of the British Indian Association or of the Calcutta Municipality. He also reads valedictory addresses to retiring Governors and other Government Magnificoes. He is created a Maharajah, a Rajah, a Rai Bahadoor, with perhaps the additional paraphernalia of C. S. I. or C. I. E. As a ripe man of vivid ambition and lofty aspiration, he necessarily hankers after and is all a-gog to dash through thick and thin for these new honors and decorations. He drives swiftly about in his barouche with his staff holder on the coach-box in broadcloth livery. Unfortunately no baronetcy blazons forth in Bengalee heraldry, like that bestowed on Sir Jamsetjee Jeejeebhoy. The cause is obvious. No millionaire Bengalee has to this day contributed so munificently to public charities as the Parsee baronet.

When that distinguished Hindoo reformer, Baboo Dwarkanath Tagore,—the most staunch coadjutor of Rajah Rammohun Roy,—visited England, it was reported that Her Majesty had most graciously offered to confer on him the title of a Rajah; and his liberality and public spirit fully entitled him to that high distinction, but he politely refused it on the ground that his position did not justify his accepting it. He felt that the shadow of a name without substance was but a mockery. When Rajah Radhakant Deb was elected President of the British Indian Association "he used to declare that he was more proud of that office than of his title of Rajah Bahadoor, inasmuch as it indicated the chiefship of a body which was a power in the State and was destined to achieve immense good for the country." At the time of the Prince of Wales' visit to Calcutta, it was said that a certain English-made Rajah was introduced by a Government Magnifico to the Maharajah of Cashmere; among other matters, the Cashmere Rajah out of curiosity asked the Bengal Rajah, "where was his Raj and what was the strength of his army?" The question at once puzzled him, and his answer was anything but satisfactory. Of all the Indian Viceroys, Lord Lytton was certainly the most liberal in bestowing these hollow titles on the Baboos of Bengal, under a mistaken notion of winning the love and confidence, which ought to constitute the solid basis of a good Government. A Rajahship,[94] without the necessary equipage and material and moral grandeur of royalty is but a gilt ornament that dazzles at first sight but possesses little intrinsic value. It is in fact a misnomer, a sham, a counterfeit. The love of honor or power constitutes one of the main principles of human nature. A Rajah, in the true sense of the word, is one who shares in the royalty of divine attributes. He should remember that a man is bound to look to something more than his mere wardrobe and title; he must possess a goodness and a greatness which would benefit thousands and tens of thousands of his fellow-creatures by the exercise of real, disinterested virtue. Such a career alone can leave an imperishable and ennobling name behind, which will go down to posterity as a pattern of moral grandeur.[95] Politically considered these titles and decorations have their value, inasmuch as they have a tendency to promote the entente cordiale between the rulers and the ruled, and, next to the Public Debt, furnish, in an indirect way, an additional buttress to the stability of the British Indian empire.

In former times, when the English rule was in its inceptive stage, when external pageant—the outcome of vanity—was not much thought of, when the simple taste of the people was not tainted by luxury and corruption, an unnatural craving for titles exerted but a very feeble influence on the minds of the great. Instead of seeking "the bubble reputation" they vied with each other in the extent of their religious gifts and endowments, affording substantial aid to the learned of the land and to the poorer classes of the community. A spirit of disinterestedness and self-sacrifice never at variance with magnanimity was conspicuous in all their gifts. The immense extent of Debatra and Brahmatra land, i. e., rent-free tenures throughout Bengal, even after the relentless operation of the Resumption Act, still bears testimony to their disinterested benevolence and the heartiness with which they entered into other men's interests. Of course they were incapable of comprehending the innumerable affinities and relations of life in all its varied phases, rising from the finite and transient to the infinite and the enduring, but whatever they gave, they gave not with a stinted hand nor in an ostentatious way, but with a truly benevolent and disinterested heart, looking to the Most High for their guerdon. The sublime and elevated conception of organised charity never penetrated their minds. Religious gifts and endowments formed the great bulk of their contributions, but they also made permanent provision for the relief of the helpless and the destitute,[96] not on the recognised principles of English charity, i. e. the Hospital system, the Nurses' Institutions, Reformatories for unfortunates, parish relief, funds for the aged and infirm, provision of improved dwellings as well as for baths and wash-houses for the working-classes inaugurated by the magnificent gift by Mr. G. Peabody of £250,000, ragged schools and asylums for the deaf, dumb and blind, supported by voluntary contributions, and other organised methods for the relief of distress and destitution throughout the country. It is a sad reflection on the benevolent disposition of the Natives that they cannot boast of anything bearing a remote analogy to the above recognised forms of Charity. In India there is much individual charity of an impulsive and interested character, but the great element of success in English charity is combination and organisation, without which no work of public utility can be practically carried out.

It is obvious that the peculiar social economy of the Natives presents an almost insuperable barrier to the harmonious amalgamation of the different classes artificially split into numerous subdivisions. In the neighbourhood of Poona, Mr. Elphinstone says, there are about 150 different castes, and in Bengal they are very numerous. They maintain their divisions, however obscurely derived, with great strictness.[97] The religious, social and moral duties of these classes, exhibit marked differences, which are opposed to the combination of united efforts in the cause of relieving suffering humanity. The idea of a national brotherhood and a system of universal philanthropy, such as Christianity has nobly inaugurated, is much too elevated for the narrow, contracted minds of the people. Independent of the numerous subdivisions of caste, unhappily there still exists an impassable gulf between the Hindoos and Mussulmans—at present the children of the same soil—which has hitherto kept up a state of unhallowed separatism, essentially at variance with a cordial coalition for the consummation of any comprehensive system of Public Charity designed to benefit both. Age has rooted in the minds of the two communities an implacable mutual hate, quite subversive of the best interests of humanity. Plausible arguments may be adduced in support of the existence of this race antagonism, but let both of them be assured that "by abusing this world they shall not earn a better." Let every act or feeling or motive of both races be merged in one harmonious whole, developing the perfection of human nature in a distinct and bright reality.

A Bengalee Baboo is fond of discussing European politics. The reading of history has given him a superficial insight into the rise and progress of nations. He does not deny that he amplifies and emphasises the sentiments he has learnt in the school of English politics. The orations of Lall Mohun Ghose in England have proved that a native of India has mastered the art of thinking on his legs, which is the beginning and end of oratory. A few more men like him, steadily working in earnest at the fountain head of power, would certainly awaken public attention towards the present condition of our country. It was Lord William Bentinck who advised a body of Native Memorialists, anxious for the political emancipation of their country, "to continue to agitate until they gained their end." Constitutional representation to proper authority, his Lordship remarked, would as much command public attention as idle, factious declamation divert it.[98] He was emphatically the "People's William" in India, as Gladstone is the "People's William" in England. He was a statesman who directed his whole attention and energy to internal improvement, repudiating all schemes of aggression or conquest. His beneficence, immortalised in a noble monument—the Calcutta Medical College,—will be more gratefully acknowledged by the latest generation than the genius of a Hastings, a Wellesley, or a Dalhousie.

The complete emancipation of India, however, is a question of time. Baboo Lall Mohun Ghose's speeches in England have not been entirely fruitless, inasmuch as they have evoked and enlisted the sympathy of a few leaders of public opinion. He is manfully struggling to remove the bar of political disabilities, and to secure for his countrymen the benefit of representative institutions, for the recognition and appreciation of which they are now prepared. While they hope for the best, they must be prepared for the worst. They must learn meanwhile to cherish, as among the essential elements of ultimate success, a firm, manly, independent and self-denying spirit.

A Bengalee Baboo is often voted a man of tall talk. Platitude is his forte. This is surely true to a certain extent; and until he descends from the elevated region of speculation to the matter of fact arena of practice, both his writings and harangues must necessarily prove abortive. He must learn to exchange his verbosity for action in the great battle of life. Every great politician or statesman must have a thorough practical training to enable him to overcome the opposition of different factions whose interests are jeopardised by his success, and to render his administration a blessing to the people. He must be prepared to grow and advance under adverse influences. The history of that consummate statesman, Sir Salar Jung, of that distinguished scholar and councillor, Sir T. Madeo Rao, of that astute minister, Maharajah Sir Dinkur Rao, furnishes the most convincing examples of superior administrative ability combined with practical wisdom. Lord Northbrook, in a recent speech at Birmingham, has made honorable mention of these three eminent statesmen, whose valuable services in their respective spheres have long since established their substantial claims to the the gratitude of their fellow countrymen. When Sir Salar Jung visited Europe, his very comprehensive and enlightened views elicited the admiration of several of the wisest statesmen of the age. His able and successful administration at Hyderabad, amidst the fierce opposition of factious parties, affords an admirable illustration of his superior practical wisdom. When, some thirty years ago, Maharajah Sir Dinkur Rao visited Calcutta, he was the wonder of all who heard him enunciate, in a telling speech at the Town Hall, his high, noble and practical views on civil Government. The speech was not made feverish by visions of indistinct good, as Mr. Theodore Dickens said, but it was a clear exposition of the liberal sentiments of a wise statesman.

The Bengalees are not a warlike race. Their traditional habits and usages, their physique, their diet and dress, their natural tendency to slothfulness and effeminacy, their proverbial quietude, their general want of pluck and manly spirit, their ascetic composure, placing the chief joys of life in rest and competency,—an heirloom descended from their ancestors,—all indicate an unwarlike temperament. During the Mutiny of 1875,—an event which in atrocious acts of cruelty incomparably surpasses all other historical events ever recorded,—that kind hearted Governor General, Lord Canning, was advised to introduce Martial Law into Calcutta, but he negatived the proposal by emphatically declaring in the Council Chamber that the Bengalees are a mild, tame, inoffensive and loyal race of people, whose only weapon of defence is a simple penknife. A common Police constable with his baton is to them a grim master of authority. A red-coated Highlander is formidable enough to cope with and drive away an immense crowd of Bengalees even in the very heart of the City of Palaces, while in the villages all shops and houses are closed at the very sight of an European soldier in his uniform. In fact, Bengal can well be governed by a handful of Native Police constables, especially when the Arms' Act is in full force. Unlike the military races of Upper India, or the border tribes, the Bengalees will never, even under the influence of the most aggravated wrongs and injuries, retaliate or resort to such a desperate court of appeal as war and murder.

English is the adopted language of a Bengalee Baboo. It is an instructive study to take a cursory view of the rapid progress of English education throughout India from the day when David Hare had held out pecuniary inducements to Hindoo youths to attend his school, and Dr. Duff called in the aid of Rammohun Roy to found the infant General Assembly's Institution, now developed into the largest College in India. Fifty years ago, who dreamt or even hazarded a prediction that a Native lad of sixteen or seventeen years of age would venture to traverse the perilous ocean and compete for the Civil Service Examination in England, paying no heed whatever to the manifold disadvantages arising from social persecution, and the disruption of domestic relations of the tenderest nature. When Bacon said that knowledge is power, he certainly did not mean physical but intellectual power. It is the irresistible influence of this power that has inspirited an Indian youth to appear at the English "open competition" for the purpose of winning academic spurs and entering a closely fenced service; it is the quickening influence of this power, combined with an enterprising spirit, that has gradually enabled a mere handful of English adventurers to convert a small factory into one of the vastest empires in the East. The gigantic strides that English education has made in India within a short time, have been the wonder of the age, the foundation rock of her ultimate emancipation, socially, morally and intellectually. The prison wall round the mind which ages had reared and learning fortified has been completely demolished, and not only men but matronly zenana females have picked up a few crumbs of broken English words which they occasionally use in familiar conversation, for instance, Rail, Talygraf, Guvner, Juj Majister, High Cote, etc.

Some of the Bengalee Baboos read and write English with remarkable fluency, and the epistolary correspondence of most of them is commonly carried on in that language. When two or more educated Baboos meet together, or take their constitutional in the morning, they perhaps talk of some reading articles in the Anglo-Indian or English journals or periodicals, and eagerly communicate to each other "the flotsam and jetsam of advanced European thoughts, the ripest outcome in the Nineteenth century, or the aftermath in the Fortnightly," as if the vernacular dialect were not at all fitted for the communication of their ideas. It is a pity that the cultivation and improvement of a national literature—the embodiment of national thought and taste and the mainspring of national enlightenment—seldom or never engages their serious attention. But it is a great mistake to suppose that the large mass of the Indian population can be thoroughly instructed and reformed through the medium of a foreign language. The richness and copiousness of modern English, combining as it does conciseness with solidity and perspicuity, are admittedly very great; it is admirably adapted for the educated few, but it is not equally suited to the capacity and comprehension of the many. It is incumbent, therefore, on all well disposed Hindoos, who have the real welfare of their country at heart, to endeavour to fertilise their national literature by transplanting into it the advanced thoughts of modern Europe, and to enrich it with copiousness, such as would obviate its acknowledged deficiency and barrenness. Until this is done, it is as unreasonable to expect elegance and perfection in the national literature as it is to expect harvest in seed-time or the full vigor of manhood in the incipient state of childhood.

Assuredly the Bengalees are a race of keranees or writers, as Napoleon said the English were a nation of shopkeepers. Every morning and evening, almost all the main streets of Calcutta leading to the English quarter—bright prospect for the Tramway—are literally thronged with dense crowds of keranees in their white cloth uniform, busily making for their respective offices, either in shabby looking third class hackney carriages or on foot. A foreigner not used to such sights cannot fail almost unconsciously to come to a conclusion that the Bengalees are a nation of keranees. Every Government, Railway or Merchant's office, is filled with these Baboos, either actually employed or serving on probation, biding their time in fond expectation of picking up a slice of official bread, buttered or unbuttered. Even graduates of the Calcutta University do not hesitate to serve as apprentices, because a collegiate course does not teach the rules of bureaucracy or official routine. Most of them are good copyists or clever accountants, while a few are correspondence clerks. As a rule, their pay is very small compared with what is given to English Clerks, for reasons which I need not dilate upon here.

Within the range of our experience, extending over fifty years, we remember only one Native gentleman—Baboo Shama Churn Dey, the present vice-chairman of the Calcutta Municipality—who, by his tried ability, intelligence and integrity has managed to climb to the top of keraneedom. In recognition of his high efficiency his salary has been raised to one thousand Rupees a month, in spite of many instances of supersession. I, in common with others, am fully persuaded that had he been a British-born Civilian, he would undoubtedly have drawn a much larger salary. But it is useless to repine at a misfortune which is inevitable.

Even the amusements of a Bengalee Baboo are more or less anglicised. Instead of the traditional Jattras, (representations) and Cobees (popular ballads) he has gradually imbibed a taste for theatrical performances, and native musical instruments are superseded by European flutes, concertinas and harmoniums, organs and piano-fortes. This is certainly a decided improvement on the old antiquated system, demonstrating the slow growth of a refined taste. Thus we see in almost every phase of life, at home or outside, the Bengalee Baboo is Europeanized. In his style of living, in his mode of dress, in his writings, in his public and private utterances, in his household arrangements and furniture, in his bearing and department, in his social intercourse, in his mental accomplishments, and in fact, in his passionate partiality for Western Æsthetics, he is a modified Anglo-Indian. But it were devoutly to be wished that he possessed a larger admixture of the essential elements of European truthfulness of character, energy and manliness of spirit, straightforwardness in his dealings with society, nobility of sentiment, magnanimity combined with simplicity, disinterested love and sympathy, and above all, moral and spiritual elevation.