A Bayard From Bengal Being some account of the Magnificent and Spanking Career of Chunder Bindabun Bhosh,... — Context and Discussion

(0 User reviews) 24

In Category - Relationships Society Historical Narratives

Authors: Anstey, F., 1856-1934, Partridge, Bernard, 1861-1945 [Illustrator] Digital Source: Project Gutenberg Gutenberg Release Year: 2011 First Publication Year: Not confirmed

Key Word: Humorous stories; East Indians -- England -- Fiction Target Reader: Readers of public-domain and historical texts

Book Edition: Project Gutenberg digital edition Book Language: en

Edition facts

Words 26,332

Reading time 115 min

Text sections 6

The source record for A Bayard From Bengal Being some account of the Magnificent and Spanking Career of Chunder Bindabun Bhosh,... — Context and Discussion measures this digital text at 26,332 words, 1 hr 55 min estimated reading time, and 6 detected text sections.

The text analysis averages about 25.3 words per sentence, while the detected sections provide another way to judge how the source is divided.

Project Gutenberg metadata also associates the work with “Humorous stories,” connecting these edition facts with the source record’s subject description.

Source: Project Gutenberg record #36703

A satirical novel narrated by Hurry Bungsho Jabberjee, B.A., chronicling the misadventures of Chunder Bindabun Bhosh, an Indian student in England, with exaggerated language, literary parodies, and farcical plot twists.

Editorial Edition Score 4.7/5

★★★★★ ★★★★★

Calculated from edition completeness, EPUB availability, text structure and catalogue metadata. Not a user rating.

How this score is calculated

Description quality20 pts
Title & short description10 pts
Source metadata20 pts
Text length15 pts
Chapters / structure15 pts
EPUB file integrity20 pts

Total of 100 points, scaled to a 2.5-5.0 range. Editions with an empty description or a missing EPUB file are not scored.

Edition quality

File: pg36703

Read the Text

Bitterly did he lament his hard lines in venturing upon the Black Water, to be snipped off in the flower of his adolescence, and never again to behold the beloved visages of his relations!

So heartrending were his tears and groans that they moved all on board, and Honble Mr Commissioner Copsey, who was returning on leave, kindly came to inquire the cause of such vociferous lachrymation.

"What is the matter, Baboo?" began the Commissioner in paternal tones. "Why are you kicking up the shindy of such a deuce's own hullabaloo?"

"Because, honble Sir," responded Mr Bhosh, "I am in lively expectation that waters will rush in and extinguish my vital spark."

"Pooh!" said Mr Commissioner, genially. "This is only the moiety of a gale, and there is not the slightest danger."

Having received this assurance, Mr Bhosh's natural courage revived, and, coming up on deck, he braved the tempest with the cool composure of a cucumber, admonishing all his fellow-passengers that they were not to give way to panic, seeing that Death was the common lot of all, and, though everyone must die once, it was an experience that could not be repeated, with much philosophy of a similar kind which astonished many who had falsely supposed him to be a pusillanimous.

The remainder of the voyage was uneventful, and, soon after setting his feet on British territory, Mr Bhosh became an alumnus and undergraduate of the _Alma Mater_ of Cambridge.

I shall not attempt to relate at any great length the history of his collegiate career, because, being myself a graduate of Calcutta University, I am not, of course, proficient in the customs and etiquettes of any rival seminaries, and should probably make one or two trivial slips which would instantly be pounced upon and held up for derision by carping critics.

So I shall content myself with mentioning a few leading facts and incidents. Mr Bhosh very soon wormed himself into the good graces of his fellow college boys, and his principal friend and _fidus Achates_ was a young high-spirited aristocrat entitled Lord Jack Jolly, the only son of an earl who had lately been promoted to the dignity of a baronetcy.

Lord Jolly and Mr Bhosh were soon as inseparable as a Daemon and Pythoness, and, though no nabob to wallow in filthy lucre, Mr Bhosh gave frequent entertainments to his friends, who were hugely delighted by the elegance of his hospitality and the garrulity of his conversation.

Unfortunately the fame of these Barmecide feasts soon penetrated the ears of the College _gurus_, and Mr Bhosh's _Moolovee_ sent for him and severely reprimanded him for neglecting to study for his Little-go degree, and squandering his immense abilities and talents on mere guzzling.

Whereupon Mr Bhosh shed tears of contrition, embracing the feet of his senile tutor, and promising that, if only he was restored to favour he would become more diligent in future.

And honourably did he fulfil this _nudum pactum_, for he became a most exemplary bookworm, burning his midnight candle at both ends in the endeavour to cram his mind with _belles lettres_.

But he was assailed by a temptation which I cannot forbear to chronicle. One evening as he was poring over his learned tomes, who should arrive but a deputation of prominent Cambridge boatmen and athletics, to entreat him to accept a stroke oar of the University eight in the forthcoming race with Oxford College!

This, as all aquatics will agree, was no small compliment--particularly to one who was so totally unversed in wielding the flashing oar. But the authorities had beheld him propelling a punt boat with marvellous dexterity by dint of a paddle, and, taking the length of his foot on that occasion, they had divined a Hercules and ardently desired him as a confederate.

Mr Bhosh was profoundly moved: "College misters and friends," he said, "I welcome this invitation with a joyful and thankful heart, as an honour--not to this poor self, but to Young India. Nevertheless, I am compelled by _Dira Necessitas_ to return the polite negative. Gladly I would help you to inflict crushing defeat upon our presumptuous foe, but 'I see a hand you cannot see that beckons me away; I hear a voice you cannot hear that wheezes "Not to-day!"' In other words, gentlemen, I am now actively engaged in the Titanic struggle to floor Little-go. It is glorious to obtain a victory over Oxonian rivals, but, misters, there is an enemy it is still more glorious to pulverize, and that enemy is--one's self!"

The deputation then withdrew with falling crests, though unable to refrain from admiring the firmness and fortitude which a mere Native student had nilled an invitation which to most European youths would have proved an irresistible attraction.

Continue Reading →

The narrative voice of A Bayard From Bengal announces itself immediately as a comic invention. The title page presents the work as written by “Hurry Bungsho Jabberjee, B.A., Calcutta University,” and the preliminary chapter declares the author’s intent to expose “very inferior rubbish” by popular novelists such as “Honbles Kipling, Joshua Barrie, Antony Weyman.” This frame establishes a parody of literary pretension and colonial encounter. The prose is marked by ornate malapropisms, inflated diction, and a deliberate disregard for idiomatic English—phrases like “prolonged consumption of midnight oil” and “magnificent and gullible British Public” signal a playful, irreverent tone. Readers should expect a picaresque plot driven by linguistic excess rather than psychological depth.

The Narrator’s Self-Conscious Performance

Jabberjee’s preface frames the novel as a corrective to British authors who “profess (very, very incorrectly) to give accurate reliable descriptions of Indian, English or Scotch episodes.” This meta-fictional jab sets up the narrator as both a critic and a performer. His prose is studded with mock-heroic flourishes: he describes his own work as “imposing” and “spanking,” and he addresses readers with elaborate deference. The effect is a sustained parody of Victorian literary conventions, particularly the sensation novel and the imperial adventure story. The narrator’s voice remains the central attraction, often overwhelming the plot with its own exuberance.

Exaggerated Perils and Literary Allusions

The excerpts show Mr. Bhosh facing a series of absurd predicaments. In one scene, he is imprisoned for debt and must rely on the gaoler’s daughter, Caroline, who “was transfixed with passionate adoration” for him. The narrator compares Bhosh’s captivity to literary precedents: “Mr Monty Christo met an abbey in his dungeon,” “Mr Picciola watered a flower,” and “Honble Bruce … tamed a spider.” These allusions are deliberately misapplied—Bhosh has no abbey, no flower, no spider—underscoring the gap between romantic heroism and farcical reality. The escape plot, involving a file and a “silken ladder of her own knitting,” is comically botched when Bhosh refuses to use them, preferring to have Caroline steal the keys.

Derby Day Intrigue and Conspiracy

The Derby race provides the novel’s central suspense. Bhosh’s horse, Milky Way, is entered in the race, but he learns from Caroline that “a notorious grandame, to wit the fashionable Duchess of Dickinson, had backed heavily that Milky Way was to fail.” The narrator’s language escalates into melodrama: Bhosh “unravelled the tangled labyrinth of a hideous conspiracy” and “beat his head vehemently against the walls of his cell.” Yet the tone remains comic, as the conspiracy is revealed through gossip and coincidence. The jockey Cadwallader Perkin later appears “with streaming eyes,” begging for mercy, suggesting that the plot will resolve through farcical reversals rather than genuine peril.

Parodic Structure and Editorial Framing

The book is presented as an edited manuscript, with F. Anstey listed as editor and reviser. This framing device, common in Victorian parody, allows for ironic distance between the narrator’s grand claims and the actual text. The table of contents includes chapter titles like “The Involuntary Fascinator” and “A Kick from a Friendly Foot,” which promise comic mishaps. Additionally, the volume appends “The Parables of Piljosh, freely translated from the Original Styptic by Another Hand,” extending the parody to biblical and orientalist genres. Readers should attend to how the editorial apparatus—including Bernard Partridge’s illustrations—comments on the narrative’s excesses.

The excerpts offer only a partial view of Bhosh’s adventures, but they reveal a consistent method: the narrator’s inflated language undercuts every dramatic moment, turning potential suspense into comedy. The Derby plot, the prison escape, and the romantic entanglements all serve as vehicles for linguistic play. A first-time reader will benefit from focusing on the narrator’s voice rather than the plot’s coherence, and from noting how the novel parodies both British and Indian literary stereotypes. The appended parables suggest that the satire extends beyond the main narrative, rewarding attention to the book’s layered structure.

There’s something in Jabberjee’s wild, word-drunk bumbling that reminds me how often we perform our own lives, hoping no one notices the seams. I find myself thinking of that quieter ache in A Reconstructed Marriage, where the performance falters and the longing underneath finally shows. A Reconstructed Marriage — Background and Themes touches that same tender place, only sideways, like an old friend’s confession.