A Bayard From Bengal<br />Being some account of the Magnificent and Spanking Career of Chunder Binda by F. Anstey (read after TXT) 📗

of scorn at some howling piece of inaccuracy in this soi-disant representation of Mr Bhosh on his cantankerous gifthorse.

The figure of the hero himself is passably correct, though I may hint to Mr P. that no rider in Rotten Row who belongs to the bon ton would wear golden tassels attached to his riding topboots.

But how am I to excuse such a Leviathan lapsus linguæ as the figure of the equestrian mounted upon a cow? It is true that Honble Hampden was so upset at having to pay sheep-money that he rode a cow, but not all his social influence could launch so stagnant a quadruped as a successful competitor with the swifter and more spirited horse, and consequently it has long been disused as the beast of pleasure, even by riders of the funkiest temperaments.

And, as before, Mr Pahtridhji has represented (only with far far less plausibility) a monkey as occupying a prominent situation on the scene of action. I can only conjecture that he is under the impression that ladies in the social position of Princess Jones take horse exercise accompanied by such Simian favourites! Readers, of course, will not hold the writer responsible for these grotesque absurdities, but the pity of it that an ambitious young Native draughtsman should be employed to make a fool of himself in this public manner! I will not insinuate that Misters Publishers are guided by economical motives.

H. B. J.

AUTHOR'S NOTE ON ILLUSTRATION No. VI

I cannot refrain once more from natural annoyance at the excessively careless fashion in which my conceptions are being realised by this Mr Birnadhur Pahtridhji.

Surely, if he was ignorant of the costume of so exalted a pundit as the British Astrologer Royal, he could at least have taken the trouble to cram up the uniform in some work of reference at a Public Library!

In any case a little reflection would have shown even Mr Pahtridhji that such a dignitary could not be correctly represented in a turban.

Most probably on so special an occasion he would have assumed his full-dress extinguisher cap adorned with Zodiacal emblems.

Such inaccuracies would perhaps be of mediocre importance if they occurred in the illustrations to a work of ordinary fiction. But in the present case of a novel which depends chiefly on its scathingly realistic exposures of London High Life, it is much to be deplored that some more observant and experienced artist could not have been selected.

I would respectfully remind my honble friends the Publishers that many a stately vessel has become a total loss owing to ill-judged parsimony in the tar department!

And I humbly recommend them (if not too late) to adopt Spartan measures, by instantaneously throwing Mr Pahtridhji overboard, and handing the job over to the President of the Royal Academy of Arts, who from his tip-top position would be most likely to execute same in a competent manner and to the general satisfaction of the Public.

H. B. J.

AUTHOR'S NOTE ON ILLUSTRATION No. VII.

I earnestly implore my benevolent publishers to suppress at all events this illustration—as much for the sake of Mr Birnadhur Pahtridhji (who, if it appears, will be the jesting-stock of every cultivated young Indian with any acquaintance at all with English life) as on my own poor account.

I ask anyone endowed with common sense—could there be a more preposterously grotesque misrepresentation than this of such a well-known scene as the annual pilgrimage to the Derby Race?

It is true that I wrote "every description of conveyance"—but how was I, being "Davus non Œdipus," to anticipate that Mr Pahtridhji would interpret the phrase as including such nondescript vehicles as a hansom cab propelled by a bullock, and a kind of palkee borne by two members of the flunkey caste?

He further displays his colossal ignorance by the introduction of a snake charmer—a character who, even assuming that he ever made his début on a London roadway, would be speedily run in, with all his serpents, for obstructing traffic.

Moreover, where is his authority for representing an adjutant bird as an ordinary London fowl?

Time and patience fail me to indicate the countless and howling croppers which Mr Pahtridhji has achieved in the space of this single picture.

But I say once more: unless it is possible to provide a novel of this calibre with congenial and appropriate drawings by an artist who is acquainted with what is what, it is infinitely preferable to dispense with illustrations altogether than to disfigure such a work with mediocre and puerile pictures!

H. B. J.

AUTHOR'S NOTE ON ILLUSTRATION No. VIII.

After having been compelled to pluck so many crows with Mr Pahtridhji, I would gladly (if I could) commend his final attempt without reserve.

And I cheerfully allow that he has rather cleverly succeeded in delineating both the modest elation of Mr Bhosh and the paternal benevolence on the judicial physiognomy.

But heigho! surgit amari aliquid—and Mr Pahtridhji, of course, was fated to insert the cloven hoof of inaccuracy into some portion of what might otherwise have been a passably correct presentment of a very simple episode!

Surely, surely even a native artist might have known that the judge who decides such an open air affair as the Derby race does not assume his wig and gown for the purpose, nor is he, necessarily, even a member of the legal profession! Moreover, if such a judge indulges in tobacco in any form (as to which I express no opinion), then indubitably he would not employ a pipe of a pattern which only an Oriental could puff without experiencing severe internal disturbances.

I am confoundedly sorry now that I did not take the precaution of supplying my illustrator with a few photographs of ordinary English characters, as I actually proposed to do, only unfortunately my aforesaid young English friend earnestly assured me that Mr P. would be as right as rain, provided that I left him a free hand.

And these are the free-hand drawings which have resulted!

All I can say is, that if my Publishers persist in including them in the volume, they must be prepared to take the consequences. Should this novel fail to secure the brilliant ovation which I anticipate for it, don't blame me, Misters!

H. B. J.

End of Project Gutenberg's A Bayard From Bengal, by Hurry Bungsho Jabberjee