language spoken in those places, the Hindi, thus became rich in Tadbhavas. In the remote marshes of Bengal and the isolated coast-line of Orissa the Aryan pulse beat but feebly. Life was ruder and less civilized, and non-Aryan tribes mustered in great force in the plains as well as in the hills. The extremities lagged behind the heart, words which had a meaning in the courts and cities of Northern and Western India were not known to or required by the nearly naked Bengali crouching in his reed hut in those outlying regions.[1]
What the colloquial languages of Bengal and Orissa were like previous to the sixteenth century we have no means of knowing. The only literature consisted of a few poetical works, whose authors did not care to keep close to the popular speech. We may, however, assume that in a country where the civilization was defective, the language would be poor. When the English came into India by sea, instead of, as former conquerors had come, by land, they were forced by circumstances to fix their capital in Bengal, thus reversing the whole system of
- ↑ Although in the present day Bengali surpasses all the other cognate languages in literary activity, yet the fact of its comparative rudeness until very recent times admits of no doubt. Even within the memory of Bengali gentlemen now living there was no accepted standard of the language, the dialects were so numerous and so varied. Since the vernacular literature has received such an immense development, the high-flown or semi-Sanskrit style has become the model for literary composition, but no one speaks in it. I think it is not too much to say that for spoken Bengali there is hardly yet any unanimously accepted system. Among recent works there is a class of comic productions, such as novels, farces, ballads, and satires, in which the spoken language is imitated. The writers of these works, like our own comic writers, attempt to seize the peculiarities of the various classes whom they introduce. Such works would not be intelligible to foreigners who have only studied the classical Bengali. Babu Piâri Lal Mittra, in his admirably clever and spirited novel, Allâler gharer Dalâl, "The Spoilt Child of the House of Allal," puts into the mouth of each of his characters the appropriate method of talking, and thus exhibits to the full the extensive range of vulgar idioms which his language possesses. In the cheap newspapers, which are now sold for a pice about the streets of Calcutta, much of this edifying stuff may be seen. It would puzzle most Europeans sadly to understand its meaning.
