Ramtanu Lahiri, Brahman and Reformer: A History of the Renaissance in Bengal/Chapter 2
CHAPTER II.
RAMTANU’S BIRTH AND CHILDHOOD IN KRISHNAGAR
Ramtanu Lahiri was, like all his brothers and sisters, save the eldest, Kesava Chandra, and the youngest Kalicharan, born in his maternal uncle’s house at a village named Baruihuda. Kesava’s birthplace was Shibnibash, and Kalicharan’s Krishnagar. Their mother, Jagaddhatri, was the daughter of Dewan Radhakanta Rai.
We have mentioned before, that the Rais or Dewan Chakravarttis, made themselves famous for their devotion to their masters, the Rajas. We have also said something of their ancestor Shashtidas, who is known as a great patron of the Kulins, and one of the first Dewans of Krishnagar. The Rais or Dewan Chakravarttis were men of high principle. Though their influence on the Raj was so great that they could have, like the Mahratta Peshwas, grown rich and powerful at the expense of their masters, yet they never took advantage of the trust reposed in them. They were so mindful of the interests of their masters, that no consideration of their own convenience would slacken their zeal in rendering them full service. Many of the landed properties of the Raj, sold by auction for the realisation of the Government rent, were bought “benami” by the Rais, for the benefit of those whose salt they ate. We read in Babu Kartik Chandra Rai’s autobiography that, not only did his ancestors scrupulously avoid enriching themselves by questionable means, but they sometimes, for the sake of duty, voluntarily drained their own purses, so as to straiten themselves considerably. Besides this, they spent almost all their earnings in such works of public utility as the excavation of tanks, and the building of temples, and in feeding and making gifts to the Brahmans, and the poor in general; and many of them possessed such noble traits of character as to command our admiration. One of these was Babu Tarakanta Rai; and Dewan Kartik Rai, his nephew, writes of him:
“My uncle, the elder brother of my father, was matchless in the excellence of his character. His language was full of sweetness; and never did he talk disrespectfully to anybody. He was so bountiful, that all applying to him for help were listened to and relieved to the full extent of his power. He was the master of his passions: and equally kind to friend or foe. Some of his spiteful relations had done him great harm, and had caused him great trouble; but never was he wanting in kindness to them. He helped them in distress, watched by their beds of sickness, had them carried to the banks of the Ganges to ensure them a peaceful death, and, when they were no longer on this earth, saw to the decent performance of their Sraddha. For the benefit of my sons, I give here two incidents displaying the largeness of his mind. Once he got a young Kayasta, living in great poverty near our house, employed in the palace. In a short time, the Kayasta became the Raja’s pet Khansama, and grew into a man of substance. He no longer remembered what the Dewan had done for him, and, in his cupidity, tried to deprive us of a few bighas of land. On this my eldest brother with his friends went to chastise him, and he in fear sought the protection of my uncle, who strictly commanded my brother not to molest the man. But the ungrateful wretch in a short time forgot this act of kindness, and sought, through the Civil Court, to dispossess us of a part of our landed property. When the suit was going on, it happened that one night a gang of dakaits broke into his house. This he tried to turn into a weapon against us, by deposing before the Magistrate that the Dewan Babu and his brothers had instigated the dakaits, and that some of the Chowkidars of our house had been found in their gang. Uncle Tarakanta with his brother, to avoid being arrested by the police, sought protection in the Rajbatti. They enjoyed the sympathy of their neighbours; and these, much annoyed with the Khansama, said to the investigating Daroga that they knew of no dakaiti having been committed in the neighbourhood; and he on their evidence reported to the authorities, that the whole affair had been got up by the plaintiff. The Peshkar in the Magistrate’s Court sent word to our guardians that they could at little cost and trouble send the bringer of this false accusation against them to jail. All our friends and relations wished to make an example of him; but Uncle Tarakanta without heeding their wishes said: ‘It is enough that we are ourselves out of trouble. It is no use proceeding against a fool like the Khansama.’ Such a forgiving spirit is rare indeed. One night in winter, having returned from the Rajbatti, Uncle Tarakanta found his bed occupied by his cook, whose custom had always been to attend on his master at his evening meal, and then to retire. He thought that the poor Brahman was not well; and so, instead of disturbing him, he laid himself down on two pieces of Kushachon (a small mat formed by the texture of Kush, a species of grass, seated on which Brahmans say their prayers, and do other devotional duties), and, wrapping himself in only a piece of shawl, resigned himself to sleep. Knowing that the Raja was fond of news, someone who had seen the Dewan in this plight, hastened to him the next morning with the intelligence. On this the Raja, anxious to know how his favourite Tarakanta fared, went to his lodgings, and found him snoring away the morning hours. The little excitement caused by the presence of the august guest awoke the sleeper, who got on his legs in surprise. On being asked by his master the cause of his strange proceedings during the past night, he said in reply, ‘I thought he was unwell, and so instead of disturbing him, I shifted for myself in the best way I could. I was not, however, put out in the least.’ This act of generosity on the part of my uncle, seemed a wonder to the Raja; and he said, ’If there be virtue in this world, it is in my Dewan, Tarakanta.’ One could never recount all the noble qualities of my uncle. His self-control was uncommon. He lost six or seven sons; but no one ever saw the least sign of grief in his countenance. At the time when each passed away, he not only maintained his equanimity, but also tried to console his afflicted family. It is a mystery, that he, who would weep for his bitterest enemies in distress, could remain so unmoved by the death of his children, dearer to him than life.”
How unusually great was the nobility of this man’s character! The history of his life is really edifying. We should here say that Dewan Kartik Chandra Rai, too, from whose autobiography we have made these extracts, was himself one of the foremost among men noted for their excellent natural qualities. There are very few who are so scrupulous, dutiful, truthful and benevolent as he was. Many of his uncle’s good qualities were seen in him. He felt an intuitive impulse to attend to the wants of his fellow-creatures, to encourage by every means in his power men of real worth, to honour the honest and the just, and to relieve the distressed. It was these qualities for which such great and patriotic characters as Iswara Chandra Vidyasagara, and Akshaykumar Datta, 
Raja Peary Mohan Mukerji, Bahadur, C.S.I.
admired and respected him so much. We feel a pleasure in speaking of a man like him and our character is exalted in studying his exemplary nature.
Ramtanu’s mother, Jagaddhatri Debi, was born in this great family, and inherited its virtues. She was undoubtedly rich in intellectual and moral gifts. She was the only daughter of her parents, she presided over her father’s house as the goddess of good-luck. In her childhood, she was loved by Raja Shib Chandra as his own daughter; and, mounted on an elephant by his side, she often accompanied him in his excursions. We can easily conceive how much this girl was loved by her parents. It is no exaggeration to say that her father occupied, next to the Rajas, the most honoured position in Krishnagar, and she could have, had she liked, always lived with him. Her husband, Ramkrishna, too, in accordance with the custom of the Kulins, might have lived permanently in his father-in-law’s house. But Jagaddhatri did not like it. She valued her husband’s self-respect so much, that some time after her marriage, she gladly left her parental roof, for that of her husband at Kadamtala; and passed her days happily there in spite of her straitened circumstances. Gladly she cleaned the floor, carried water, and husked paddy for the consumption of the family; and in addition to these onerous domestic duties, she had to bring up her children. If any of her neighbours or friends would pity her for her having so much to do, she would scorn their pity. On one occasion an old servant from her father’s came to see her, and finding her husking paddy, expressed her sympathy; but Jagaddhatri said to her, “I am very happy here. Tell my mother there is nothing to make me sad, I am very fond of work.” People were so taken with her amiability, and her excellent qualities, that wherever she passed them, they said, “She is the Goddess Lakshmi incarnate.”
One circumstance is noteworthy. While Jagaddhatri passed her days happily amid all kinds of domestic privations, her brothers were very kind to her. Almost daily, when returning home from their indigo factory, they called on her, and offered her such help as she needed.
At the time of Ramtanu’s birth, his father, with the small income of the landed property he had inherited, and with the salary he got as manager of the estates of the then wealthy Lala Babus, could hardly meet his own wants and those of his family. The Lala Babus were the two grandsons of Raja Shib Chandra through his daughter. Their names were Hariprasanna and Nandaprasanna; but they were called by the people of the time the elder and the younger Lala Babus.
There are many anecdotes about them illustrating their truthfulness and generosity; and of these we quote one from Kartik Babu’s autobiography.
Nobody ever saw or heard anything against the rectitude of the Lala Babus. Everyone talked of their good and noble qualities, and many interesting anecdotes are told to illustrate their virtues.
The younger Lala Babu was once, in course of conversation, informed by a neighbour of his mother’s death. Apparently no notice was then taken of it by the Babu; but when, after two or three months, the man turned up again, he presented him with ten rupees, saying, “When you told me of your mother’s death, I had no money in hand, and so I could not help you then; but yesterday I received some money from my taluk, and that reminded me of my debt to you.” We have heard of many such instances in the lives of the two brothers,
Ramkrishna took great pleasure in working under such a virtuous master. Though his salary was small, he never grumbled, nor did he use doubtful means to increase his income. In managing his family affairs, he had great difficulties to cope with, till Kesava, his eldest son, could help him with his earnings.
Ramkrishna took great care to keep his children from bad company. Every evening he used to take with him Kesava Chandra and afterwards Ramtanu, to the house of a neighbour named Debiprasad Chaudhuri, who was Mahafez in one of the courts of Krishnagar, and had the reputation of being religious. He strictly observed the Hindu festivals, and had the Shastras regularly read and expounded in his house. His influence was great, and every evening a pious group met in his parlour. Ramkrishna was one of the group, and Nashiram Datta another. There was a young man in Debiprasad’s house who knew English, and under whose eyes the young folk learned their lessons, while their guardians, relieved of their presence, enjoyed a devotional tete-a-tete with Nashiram Datta, just mentioned as one of Debi Babu’s guests. Ramtanu in after years wrote thus in his diary: “Alas, I shall never more see him in this life.” We find the following instance of his integrity in Babu Kartik Chandra Rai’s writings:— “The son of Nashiram Datta, being in the central part of Krishnagar, built a hall for the worship of God, and, to add beauty to its position, it was found necessary that the plot of ground in front of it should be included within its court. But the land belonged to another party who was unwilling to part with it, and so Nashiram’s son had recourse to force in order to make it his own. The aggrieved party sought the protection of the court, and, when the judge came to make a local investigation, said that his chief witness was the defendant Nashiram himself; and that if he affirmed before the judge that the disputed land was his, he, the plaintiff, would give up his claim to it. Nashiram’s son, who knew his father’s probity, had kept him concealed in the house; but at last, when the judge insisted on his appearing, he was produced before him. When questioned on the matter Nashiram in great anger uttered these words: “I strictly forbade my son to take possession of that piece of land, but the wretch did not listen to me. I have not the least right to it.”
The children of Ramkrishna, as they grew older, followed the noble example of their parents. Kesava in his very boyhood learned to give respect where it was due, and to be obedient to his parents.
Once, when he was between boyhood and youth, he came home from Goari with a maund of rice on his shoulders. This he did because he had been ordered to do so by his father, or someone else equally worthy of obedience. On another occasion, happening to find that the solitary step leading into his grandmother’s sleeping-room had given way, he called in one or two lads of his acquaintance, collected bricks and other materials for building, on the sly, and repaired the steps in the dead of the night when his grandmother was fast asleep. On coming out of the room early next morning, and finding that the steps had been thoroughly repaired, she delightedly exclaimed, “This is Kesava’s doing, and no one else’s.” So well she knew her Kesava.
We have no means of knowing minutely the occurrences in the life of Kesava. But from the deep respect in which the venerable Ramtanu Lahiri held his brother, it seems that Kesava’s high character was chiefly instrumental in the formation of his own. We have numerous proofs of Kesava’s probity. When clerk in the Judge’s Court at Alipur, he used, after the duties of his post, to look after the lawsuits of many, both Bengalis and foreigners, and act as Mukhtiar, and thereby used to earn something extra. In those days, people connected with courts of law had a chance of soon making themselves rich, by taking bribes, giving false evidence, and practising some kind of deception or other. But Kesava was above these practices. His gains were honest, and therefore small, too small for him to meet his own wants, to remit money to his father, and, at the same time, to bear the expenses of his brother’s education in Calcutta; and for this he had to look for help from others. The child Ramtanu was ushered into the world amidst circumstances favourable to his being received by his people as a special gift of heaven. He was a male child seventh in the order of birth, and some of his brothers and sisters that had preceded him were no more. His birth therefore was a cause of great rejoicings in the family and an event of interest to the people of Baruihuda and Krishnagar, where his maternal grandfather was greatly loved and revered. The little village of his nativity expressed great joy at the occurrence. Matrons crowded to the Dewan’s house, and in honour of the auspicious event blew conch shells, the sounds of which sent a thrill through the whole neighbourhood. Bands of musicians came, in the hope of bakshis, to greet the new-comer; and played on their drums and pipes to their hearts’ content. Ladies at the bathing ghat talked of the incident, and prayed that the new-born child might enjoy a long life. Then followed the many religious rites prescribed by Hinduism for an occasion like this: there were the alkaura, or the feast for the boys on the eighth day, and the Shashti puja, or thanksgiving to Shashti, the guardian goddess of children, on the twenty-first day, the day of the mother’s and the child’s purification.
The boy Ramtanu began to grow strong and healthy, to the great joy of his parents and brother, Kesava, who often congratulated his mother on the birth of such a beautiful and promising child. When five years old he was initiated into the mysteries of the Bengali alphabet. There was a patshala in Babu Debi Chaudhuri’s house; and it is probable that the boy was sent there to receive his first education. Here we find it necessary to say a few words about the constitution and management of patshalas, as they then existed. It usually happened that some of the Kayastas of the Burdwan District, pinched by poverty, left their homes in quest of bread, and failing to find other employments, established themselves as teachers for the young in different parts of the country. They were called Gurumahashais; and the apologies for our modern vernacular schools, which they started, were called patshalas. These were generally located in the outer halls in gentlemen’s houses, dedicated to the worship of the gods, and therefore called Poojar dalans (hall of worship) or chundimondops (houses for Durga). The former was roofed with bricks, and the latter thatched with straw. There were two periods of work in a patshala every day, excluding the generally recognised holy days, one of about three hours in the morning, and the other of as many hours in the afternoon. The Guru was the sole instructor, but he was assisted by the Sirdar porohs or senior students. He sat in the centre with his back against a pillar or a post, and always with a cane in his hand. Dozing during the hours of work was his favourite occupation, and if any of his pupils happened to read, talk, sneeze or cough so as to rouse him from his slumber, the terrible cane, after being for some time 
Michael Madhusudan Dutt.,
1824-1873
brandished in the air, mercilessly fell on the poor delinquent’s head.
Patshala boys read little but wrote much; seated each on his own mat, they went on writing, on palm or plantain leaves, according to the progress they had made. Paper was used only by the most advanced. Arithmetic and Subhongkori were very carefully taught. Letter writing and the drawing out of promissory bonds, pats, Kabolyats, etc., formed the highest branch of education. There was one subject which the Gurus taught with greater efficiency and better results than the pandits or the English schoolmasters of our time — I mean mental arithmetic. Boys in a short time became uncommonly expert in mental calculation. In the twinkling of an eye they could work out a sum which would puzzle many an arithmetician.
The education given in patshalas was, in the majority of cases, only preparatory. The sons of the priests left them for Sanskrit tols; those intended for Government service, to learn Persian; and only those continued to the last whose aim in after life was either to work in Zemindari cutcherees, or to set themselves up as traders. At that time the Gurus did not, like the masters and pandits of the present time, receive his salary from any community or society. Each father at the time of putting his boy under the Guru, promised to pay him a small fee; and the man’s earnings in this way amounted to four or five rupees. But he had other sources of income. Every festival brought some pice into his box. He used very cleverly to cheat his pupils out of money or articles of use. Besides this, to be in his good graces, boys frequently gave him whatever they could by stealth procure from home, a little tobacco even not being too insignificant a gift to him. Those making such presents were always petted in spite of their shortcomings. Those who were naughty and inattentive to their lessons had no punishment to fear, if they could in some way or other satisfy his greed; while on the other hand the best-behaving were sure to be in disgrace, if they brought him no presents.
Now we come to the modes of punishment that prevailed in patshalas. The punishments commonly inflicted were barbarous in the extreme. They were hat-chari, laru-gopal, tribhanga, etc. One doomed to the first had to receive as many cuts from the cane on the palm of his hands as the Guru was pleased to inflict. In laru-gopal, the offender was made to stoop with his knees and one of his hands on the ground, and then to stretch out his other hand, on which a full-sized brick or some other heavy weight was placed. The victim was required to remain in this condition for some prescribed time, and if, his hands being tied, the weight was even slightly displaced, he had to receive a sound caning. In tribhanga, the sufferer was made to stand on one leg, placing the other on it so that the two might form something like a prop; then, as in laru-gopal, some heavy weight was placed on his stretched-out palm. If in this painful position the poor boy bent a little, changed his attitude in the least, or happened to throw down the weight, then who could count the cuts he received from the cane of the tyrant? There was another mode of punishment which was called chyangdola. This was inflicted on boys playing the truant. So-and-so has not come to the patshalas, or has run away from it, and the Guru deputes half-a-dozen strong lads to capture him. They do their errand in the best way they can. They seize the delinquent, throw him on his back on the ground, and then lift him up in the air, some holding him by the arms and others by the legs, and carry him to the Guru, who gives him a severe flogging.
Mr Adams was appointed by Lord William Bentinck to report on the system of education then in vogue in this country. He, having inspected the patshalas spoke in his report of fourteen methods of inflicting punishment in these. Some of them were very horrible indeed; and we here mention two. One was to make the offender powerless by tying his hands and legs, and then to apply nettles all over his body. How the young sufferer smarted under this severe affliction! But there was another still more terrible punishment, diabolical ingenious; it was to put the victim in a sack together with a cat, and to roll it about. The cat tore the boy’s body with its teeth and claws; and when the boy was brought out, it took some time to revive him.
The very presence of the Guru was a great terror to the boys, and it was not at all strange that they would often run away from the patshala, and hide themselves in unfrequented parts of the neighbourhood, for fear of being captured, and taken to the merciless pedagogue. Dewan Kartik Chandra Rai refers to a case like this. “Some of our neighbours’ boys, of the same age as I, used to attend the patshala in Babu Debi Chaudhuri’s house. A cousin of mine belonged to it was frequently punished for being inattentive to his studies. Sometimes, to avoid being dealt with in this way, he would take refuge in our house, hoping that while there he was outside the jurisdiction of the Guru; but often the myrmidons of this relentless man would lie in ambush, and would capture my cousin by surprise. One day, finding no other place sufficiently safe, he entered a hut, got on the scaffold on it, and passed there full twenty four hours without food or drink. On another occasion he spent a cold night in an ahrhur field. Once he received from the Guru such a cut on his cheek as to leave a mark there for years.”
Ramtanu writes in his diary that he too had often to run away from the patshala, for fear of being beaten; and that this grieved his father very much.
The Guru did nothing to improve the moral character of his pupils, but much to spoil it. He countenanced, nay, enjoined, petty thefts when they made him the gainer. The language he used was often vulgar and obscene; and no wonder that the boys under his training contracted this nasty habit from him. The majority of them, especially those enjoying the rank and privileges of senior students, were proud of stealing, lying, and imposing on others, and their examples infected those junior to them. We read in Mr Lahiri’s diary, that once a fellow-student induced him to steal. Kesava Chandra somehow or other came to know this, and upbraided him in the strongest terms. Instead of confessing or denying his fault, the young offender took to crying, implying thereby that he was innocent. Ah! he knew not then what a pang the recollection of this would in after years cause him!
As a boy, Ramtanu was very fond of riding; but neither he nor any of his friends had a horse. The desire to ride, however, was too strong for him to resist; and to gratify it he used to lay hold of strayed nags belonging to the hackney men. This sometimes caused him and his companions considerable trouble; for the owners, coming to know of their trick, pursued them with hostile intentions; and then they had to clear off with breakneck speed. At length the band of youngsters got a horse of their own, though by nefarious means. One of them purloined a large sum of money and a nice pony was bought. He was highly applauded by his friends, and Ramtanu was one of them.
Mr Lahiri always loved what was beautiful. Even at the time of which we are speaking he took a pleasure in visiting scenes rich with the charms of nature. There were many attractive gardens within which he spent much of his time, the best being Sriban. It belonged to the Rajas, and in it Raja Iswara had had a beautiful house built. Alas! Sriban is no more an object of attraction; the house is now in a ruined state. But the scenery around it is yet enchanting. The river Anjuna, on which the house stood, has still many of its early charms. On each side of it there is a row of trees for about a mile. One passing in a boat, at any hour of the day or of the night, is sure to enjoy the refreshing influence of the excursion. A few years ago, the great poet, Michael Madhusudan, visited the scene and gave vent to his rapture thus — “O! Anjuna, great is my delight in seeing thee. I will never forgot thee, or refrain from speaking of thy charms.”
We can, from the recollection of our experiences of childhood, appreciate the spirit in which the boy Ramtanu and his associates viewed such natural beauties. Then we fully enjoyed the charms that Nature spread around us, but alas! we no longer retain that acute capacity for enjoyment, though the things that once pleased us are still in existence. With our age, we have ceased appreciating those little beauties which charmed us then. The cause of this change is in ourselves. Time has hardened our hearts, and therefore we no longer taste the sweets that Nature holds before us. The world is full of the beautiful and the sublime, and the hearts of those alone are touched with them who are devoutly disposed. The writer of the “Memoir of Khitish Chandra and his Family” in his autobiography thus laments his own shortcomings in this respect: “It seems that all the pleasures of life have vanished with my youth. I fly from those scenes of enjoyment which fascinated me in my boyhood; and even if I eagerly attempt to make them my own, I miserably fail. That Sriban, that Lalbag [the garden of red flowers] are still there; but no longer do I care to visit them. Their very names I seem to have forgotten.”
Our hero’s boyhood was also spent in rambling in fields over which Nature had spread a rich verdure. It is known that a large portion of Lower Bengal has been formed by alluvial deposits, that places now teeming with inhabitants were once under the sea, and the cities like Tamluk, now at a considerable distance from it, then stood on its shore. Not only have the limits of the southern parts of the province been enlarged by the uprising of the soil, but its productive power has been much increased. Lower Bengal is called by Europeans the “Garden of the World” and the banks of Mother Ganges fascinate the eye with their luxuriant vegetation. In the centre of this “Garden of the World” stands Nadia; and young Ramtanu delighted to visit its verdant scenes.
But while he was enjoying these pleasures, his parents were very anxious about his future. The moral atmosphere of Krishnagar at the time was tainted. Pious men like Ramkrishna found the city badly wanting in those virtues that they desired to see displayed in their families. We cannot help weeping, when the fact is forced upon us, that the same Hindu race that the Greek and the Chinese travellers who visited India before the Muhammadan conquest, or even before the Moslem rule had been firmly established, admired as brave, truthful, frank, and hospitable, became so degenerate in a few centuries of foreign rule. The cause of this degeneration is not far to seek. The conquerors established their palaces, here and there, all over the country; and the luxury and immorality that were rampant there exercised their contaminating influence first on the upper and then, through these, on the lower classes, and, indeed, throughout Hindu society.
Another evil attending the Muhammadan supremacy was the aptitude of Hindus to flatter those in authority, and to practise deception for the furtherance of their own ends. Rich Hindus, by these means, ingratiated themselves into favour with the Emperor and the Nawabs under him, and thus they lost the truthfulness for which their ancestors had been famous. The lower classes received their lessons from the upper, and men were not ashamed publicly to violate truth. Again, if after this, there was anything wanting to make the deterioration complete, it was supplied by the policy the English followed in realising the rents due to them, and the spirit of setting truth at naught which their courts showed. It is said that these courts had no regard for actual facts, if they were not borne out by evidence. Truth was not esteemed by them in itself, but only when it was supported by witnesses. So the practice of suborning these soon prevailed. The violation of truth was soon followed by forgery, chicanery, bribery, and what not! It was this state of affairs in Hindu society that brought upon it Macaulay’s vituperation. It is not strange then that morality was at a low ebb at Krishnagar.
Ramtanu was born in the time of Raja Giris Chandra. The society of Krishnagar then was divided into three classes: First, the Rajas and their connections, who formed the most important section. Secondly, certain families of independent means, the heads of most of which, having received a good education in Persian, had gone on business to different parts of the country. And thirdly, men who worked as pleaders, mukhtears, or amla in the English courts. Most of these lived at Goari, on the right bank of the Khoresi.
We have before said something of Raja Giris Chandra. One great fault in him was that he was subject to the influence of men of mean intellect and bad morals. He was surrounded on all sides by the selfish and the mean-minded; and it is easy to imagine what a baneful effect on Krishnagar society these circumstances produced. At this time there was a link of connection between the Raja and the Lahiri family; for the half-brother of Ramkrishna, Babu Thakurdas Lahiri, was, as we have before said, the chief agent of the Raja in Calcutta.
Raja Giris Chandra was succeeded by Shiris Chandra, and a terrible picture is drawn of the corruption of which the palace was full during the time of the latter. The Raja, in spite of his many good qualities, was addicted to some vices which were not then regarded as such. It was a period of gross public immorality such as happily exists no longer, either in Bengal or elsewhere in India; and the Dewan Kartik Chandra in his “Memoirs” has much to say about the immorality of Krishnagar, and of the court of its Rajas at this time, over which we will now draw a veil.
We have alluded to these evils only to show the state of Hindu society at the time of Ramtanu’s birth. The loose lives of the men influenced the conduct and the language of the rising generation. Boys were familiar with odious scenes; and that their pet child, Ramtanu, should get spoiled in such company was the constant fear of Ramkrishna and Jagaddhatri; so they were anxious not to let him remain in the contaminating atmosphere of Krishnagar. At length they hit upon an expedient. Kesava’s home was at Chetla near Kalighat; and to him they represented the necessity of his younger brother being taken there. So at the age of twelve the subject of this biography left his native city for Chetla.
