CHAPTER VII.
THE RUMBLE CHUNDER GRANT.
Monstrum horrendum--informe--ingens----
There were many things which a man was expected to know about inofficial circles at Dustypore, and first and foremost was the 'RumbleChunder Grant.' Not to know this argued one's self not only unknown butignorant of the first principles of society and the common basis onwhich thought and conversation proceeded. It was like not having readMr. Trollope's novels or knowing nothing about the Tichborne Trial orbeing in any other way out of tune with the times. One of the thingsthat gave the old civilians such a sense of immeasurable superiorityover all outsiders and new-comers was the consciousness that with themrested this priceless secret, this mystery of mysteries.
One inconvenient consequence, however, of everybody being expected toknow was, that everybody took for granted that everybody else did know,and that those who did not know veiled their ignorance under a decentmask of familiarity and by talking about it in a vague, shadowy sort ofphraseology which conveniently concealed any little inaccuracies. It hadto do with salt, moreover, and it was at the Salt Board that theunsearchable depths of the subject were best appreciated and thisvagueness of language was most in vogue.
The facts were something of this sort. When the English took the countrywe found particular families and villages in Rumble Chunder in enjoymentof various rights in connection with salt; some had little monopolies;others might manufacture for themselves at a quit rent, others mightquarry for themselves at particular times and places, and so forth.
The Gazette, which announced the annexation of the province, haddeclared in tones of splendid generosity that the British Government,though inexorable to its foes, would temper justice with mercy so far asto respect existing rights of property and would protect the loyalproprietor in the enjoyment of his own. The sonorous phrases of arhetorical Viceroy had entailed on his successors a never-ending seriesof disputes, and had saddled the Empire with an obligation which wasall the more burthensome for being undefined. Ever since that unluckyGazette, officials had been hard at work to find out what it was thatthe Governor-General had promised to do and how much it would cost to doit. One diligent civilian after another went down to Rumble Chunder andmade out a list of people who were or who pretended to be, entitled tointerests in salt. Then these lists had been submitted and discussed,and minuted upon, and objected to, and returned for furtherinvestigation, and one set of officers had given place to another, andthe chance of clearing up the matter had grown fainter every day.Meanwhile the Rumble Chunder people had gone their ways, exercising whatrights they could, and happy in the possession of an interminablecontroversy. In course of time most of the original documents gotdestroyed in the Mutiny, or eaten by white ants, and a fresh element ofuncertainty was introduced by the question of the authenticity of allexisting copies. Then there had come a new Secretary of State at home,whose views as to the grantees were diametrically opposed to all hispredecessors, and who sent peremptory orders to carry out the new policywith the least possible delay. Thus the subject had gradually got itselfinto a sort of hopeless tangle, for which Desvoeux used to say that theonly effectual remedy would be the end of the world. No one knew exactlywhat his rights were, and every one was afraid of endangering hisposition by too rigid an inquiry or too bold an assertion.
One peculiarity of this, as of most Indian controversies, was theunnatural bitterness of spirit to which it gave rise. The most amiableofficials turned to gall and wormwood at its very mention, and abusedeach other over it with the vehemence of vexed theologians.
Whether vain attempts to understand it had engendered an artificialspitefulness, or whether discussion, like beer-drinking, is a luxury toostrong for natures enfeebled by an Eastern climate, sure enough it wasthat, directly this wretched question came to the fore, good-nature,moderation and politeness were forgotten, and the antagonists made upfor the confusion of their ideas by the violence of the language inwhich they expressed them.
The last phase of the story was that some of the descendants of theoriginal grantees, thinking the plum was now about ripe for picking,took up the question in a wily, patient, vexatious sort of way, andproduced a tremendous lawsuit. Then a Member of Parliament, whoseideas, by some sudden process (on which his banker's book would probablyhave thrown some light), had been suddenly turned Indiawards, made themost telling speech in the House, depicting in vivid colours the wrongsof the Rumble Chunder people and the satanic ruthlessness of Britishrule. Then pamphlets began to appear, which showed to demonstration thatall the Viceroys had been either liars or thieves, except a few who hadbeen both, and asked how long this Rumble Chunder swindle was to last.The whole subject, in fact, began to be ventilated. Now, ventilation,though a good thing in its time and place, is bad for such veteraninstitutions as the Salt Board, or controversies as delicate as theRumble Chunder Grant. Every new ray of daylight let in disclosed an uglyflaw, and the fresh air nearly brought the tottering edifice about theears of its inhabitants. It needed, as Fotheringham ruefully felt, butthe rude, trenchant, uncompromising spirit of a man like Blunt toproduce an imbroglio which could neither be endured, concealed, ordisposed of in any of the usual methods known to Indian officialdom; andBlunt was known to be hard at work at the statistics, and already tohave assumed an attitude of obtrusive hostility. Fotheringham could onlyfortify himself with the reflection that the Providence which had seenhim through a long series of official scrapes would probably not deserthim at this last stage of his career. He wished, nevertheless, that hehad forestalled Cockshaw in his application for the Carraways.