Memoirs of a Bengal Civilian by John Beames

Author:John Beames [Beames, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781780601908
Publisher: Eland Publishing
Published: 2020-05-06T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 13

Champàran, 1866–1867

We went by train from Sahibganj to Patna where we stayed for a few days, guests of Dalrymple the Commissioner. Then by palkis to Muzaffarpur, the headquarters of the large district of Tirhut. The next night we started again in palkis for Motihari, a distance of fifty-two miles. At dawn the next morning we woke to find our palkis on the ground and the bearers standing round. Asked why they stopped they said we had come to Barah Factory, and must get out and have tea. In vain I protested that I did not want to stop here, that I did not know the planter, and that I very much wanted to get to Motihari. They replied that all English gentlemen stopped there and that the planter would be very angry with them if they let us go on. So we gave in and were carried through a large, park-like compound to an immense house. A respectable old bearer came and helped us out, and led us into dressing-rooms where we washed and changed our clothes. On coming out into the veranda we found a copious breakfast of tea, coffee, eggs, ham, cold meat, herrings, jam, fruit and other things. After we had well eaten and drunk we were thinking of going on when one of the owners of the factory, Dr Hills, appeared, greeted us politely and hoped we had been properly waited on. He did not ask our names or seem to care who we were. It was the pride of the owners of his factory to entertain all comers. They had even prevailed upon the Magistrate to have the public road diverted so as to run through their property in order that no one might escape them.

This open-handed hospitality was the rule at all factories. When we reached Motihari the bearers took us to another factory, where Baldwin, the manager, received us quite as a matter of course. It took us about a fortnight to get settled down in our house, a beautiful, large bungalow on the bank of a pretty lake. Champàran is the north-westernmost district in the Lower Provinces. It is a small district only about a quarter the size of Purnea and the work was extraordinarily light. It was in fact given me by Eden because it was so light. He thought I required rest after the heavy work of Purnea. It was not, however, a bed of roses to me. I felt from the first that there was going to be a fight though I did not foresee the shape it would take.

While staying with Dalrymple at Patna I had naturally had long talks with him about my new district. Dal, as everyone called him, was a clear-headed man though his extreme indolence prevented him being a good officer. His account of Champàran was, as I afterwards found, very accurate. He said that the indigo planters were very numerous and powerful; that owing to their being genial and hospitable the Magistrates

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