Memoirs of a griffin : $b Or, A cadet's first year in IndiaBellew, Francis John
General
Memoirs of a griffin : $b Or, A cadet's first year in India
Bellew, Francis John
India -- Description and travel
He maintained—for Captain Belfield, like most men, had his hobby, and
was, moreover, at that time writing a book to prove it—that we have
received almost all our _raw_ notions of things in general from the
East, to which we are, in fact, more indebted than it suits the policy
of the world to acknowledge; and that now, after a score or two of
centuries, we are merely rendering them back their own in a
_manufactured_ or modified form.
Our feudal system, our juries, our best jokes, our cleverest tales, our
wisest aphorisms, and much more besides, were, according to him, all
filched from the Hindoos. The captain was not a man to be led away by
strained analogies and forced etymologies; so I put great faith in his
_dicta_—a faith which has not been shaken by my post-griffinish
researches.
He had better grounds to go upon than the old Irish colonel, who took up
the converse of the proposition, and proved, or endeavoured to prove,
that the Hindoos sprung from the Irish, that Sanscrit was a corruption
of their vernacular, their veneration for the cow nothing more than a
natural transition from their well-known partiality for _bulls_; and
that the mildness, temperance, and placability of the race all smacked
strongly of Tipperary.
On the evening to which I am referring, Captain Belfield soon became
absorbed in his books, whilst Miss Belfield and I sat down to chess. We
had two well-contested games; I won them both, and though I bore my
victory meekly enough, I perceived, or thought I perceived, that it
would not do to repeat my triumphs too often.
Chess is a fine, intellectual game, no doubt, but, somehow or other, a
sad tryer of the temper; and, whether beaten or victorious, unless
possessed of more than ordinary tact and self-command, you may chance to
quarrel with, and possibly alienate, your friend.
Thus, then, with some little variety, reading, or conversation, passed
we the evenings of our sojourn together—the pleasantest by far of my
griffinage.
The voyage to Burhampore, the first large military station on the river,
occupied ten or twelve days. I shall briefly touch on a few more of its
incidents.
In spite of General Capsicum’s friendly advice to indulge moderately in
field sports, like ninety nine out of every hundred griffins, I
commenced my popping operations almost from the day of starting, keeping
up a sort of running fire, with little intermission, till I reached my
destination.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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