MR. HAWKINS MUMRATH, of Her Majesty’s Bengal Civil Service, lay down to die of enteric fever; and, being a thorough-minded man, so nearly accomplished his purpose that all his friends, two doctors, and the Government he served gave him up for lost. Indeed, upon a false rumour the night before he rallied, several journals published very pleasant obituary notices, which, three weeks later, Mr. Mumrath sat up in bed and studied with interest. It is strange to read about yourself in the past tense, and soothing to discover that for all your faults, your world ‘could have better spared a better man.’ When a Bengal Civilian is tepid and harmless, newspapers always conclude their notices with this reflection. It entirely failed to amuse Mr. Mumrath.
The loving-kindness of the Government provides for the use of its servants in the East luxuries undreamed of by other civilisations. A State-paid doctor closed Mumrath’s eyes — till Mumrath insisted upon opening them again; a subventionised undertaker bought Government timber for a Government coffin; and the great Cemetery of St. Golgotha-in-Partibus prepared, according to regulation, a brick-lined grave, headed and edged, with masonry rests for the coffin. The cost of that grave was 175 rupees 14 annas, including the lease of the land in perpetuity. Very minute are the instructions of the Government for the disposal, wharfage, and demurrage of its dead; but the actual arrangements are not published in any appendix to pay and pension rules, for the same reason that led a Prussian officer not to leave his dead and wounded too long in the sight of a battery under fire.
Mr. Mumrath recovered and went about his work, to the disgust of his juniors who had hoped promotion from his decease. The undertaker sold the coffin, at a profit, to a fat Armenian merchant in Calcutta, and the State-paid doctor profited in practice by Mumrath’s resurrection from the dead. The Cemetery of St. Golgotha-in-Partibus sat down by the head of the new-made grave with the beautiful brick luung, and waited for the corpse then signing despatches in an office three mules away. The yearly accounts were made up; and there remained over, unpaid for, one grave, cost 175 rupees 14 annas. The vouchers for all the other graves carried the name of a deceased servant of the Government. Only one space was blank in the column.
Then Ahutosh Lal Deb, Sub-Deputy Assistant in the Accounts Department, being full of zeal for the State, and but newly appointed to his important post, wrote officially to the Cemetery, desiring to know the inwardness of that grave, and ‘having the honour to be,’ etc. The Cemetery wrote officially that there was no inwardness at all, but a complete emptiness; said grave having been ordered for Mr. Hawkins Mumrath, and ‘had the honour to remain.’ Ahutosh Lal Deb had the honour to point out that, the grave being unused, the Government could by no means pay for it. The Cemetery wished to know if the account could be carried over to the next year, ‘pending anticipated taking-up of grave.’
Ahutosh Lal Deb said that he was not going to have the accounts confused. Discrepancy was ‘the soul of bandinage and defalcations.’ The Cemetery would be good enough to adjust on the financial basis of that year.
The Cemetery wished they might be buried if they saw their way to doing it, and there really had been more than two thousand burned bricks put into the lining of the grave. Meantime, they complained, the Government Brickfield Audit was waiting until all material should have been paid for.
Ahutosh Lal Deb wrote: ‘Refer to Mr. Mumrath.’ The Cemetery referred semi-officially. It struck them as being rather a delicate matter, but orders are orders. Hawkins Mumrath wrote back, saying that he had the honour to be quite well, and not in the least in need of a grave, brick-lined or otherwise. He recommended the head of the Cemetery to get into that grave and stay there. The Cemetery forwarded the letter to Ahutosh Lal Deb, for reference and order.
Ahutosh Lal Deb forwarded it to the Provincial Government, who filed it behind a mass of other files and forgot all about it.
A fat she-cobra crawled into the neglected grave, and laid her eggs among the bricks. The Rains fell, and a little sprinkling of grass jewelled the brick floor.
The Cemetery wrote to Ahutosh Lal Deb, advising him that Mr. Mumrath had not paid for the grave, and requesting that the sum might be stopped from his monthly pay. Ahutosh Lal Deb sent the letter to Hawkins Mumrath as a reminder.
Hawkins Mumrath swore; but when he had sworn, he began to feel frightened. The enteric fever had destroyed his nerve. He wrote to the Accounts Department, protesting against the injustice of paying for a grave beforehand. Deductions for pension or widow’s annuity were quite right, but this sort of deduction was an imposition, besides being sarcastic.
Ahutosh Lal Deb wrote that Mr. Mumrath’s style was not one usually employed in official correspondence, and requested him to modulate it and pay for the grave. Hawkins Mumrath tossed the letter into the fire, and wrote to the Provincial Government.
The Provincial Government had the honour to point out that the matter rested entirely between Mr. Hawkins Mumrath and the Accounts Department. They saw no reason to interfere till the money was actually deducted from the pay. In that eventuality, if Mr. Hawkins Mumrath appealed through the proper channels, he might, if the matter were properly reported upon, get a refund, less the cost of his last letter, which was under-stamped. The Cemetery wrote to Ahutosh Lal Deb, enclosing triplicate of grave-bill and demanding some sort of settlement.
Ahutosh Lal Deb deducted 175 rupees 14 annas from Mumrath’s monthly pay. Mumrath appealed through the proper channels. The Provincial Government wrote that the expenses of all Government graves solely concerned the Supreme Government, to whom his letter had been forwarded.
Mumrath wrote to the Supreme Governinent. The Supreme Government had the honour to explain that the management of St. Golgotha-in-Partibus was under direct control of the Provincial Government, to whom they had had the honour of forwarding his communication. Mumrath telegraphed to the Cemetery to this effect.
The Cemetery telegraphed: ‘Fiscal and finance, Supreme; management of internal affairs, Provincial Government. Refer Revenue and Agricultural Department for grave details.’ Mumrath referred to the Revenue and Agricultural Department. That Department had the honour to make clear that it was only concerned in the plantation of trees round the Cemetery. The Forest Department controlled the reboisement of the edges of the paths.
Mumrath forwarded all the letters to Ahutosh Lal Deb, with a request for an immediate refund under ‘Rule 431 A, Supplementary Addenda, Bengal.’ He invented rule and reference pro re riata, having some knowledge of the workings of the Babu mind.
The crest of the Revenue and Agricultural Department frightened Ahutosh Lal Deb more than the reference. He bewilderedly granted the refund, and recouped the Government from the Cemetery Establishment allowance.
The Cemetery Establishment Executive Head wanted to know what Ahutosh Lal Deb meant.
The Accountant-General wanted to know what Ahutosh Lal Deb meant.
The Provincial Governinent wanted to know what Ahutosh Lal Deb meant.
The Revenue and Agricultural, the Forest Department, and the Government Harness Depot, which supplies the leather slings for the biers, all wanted to know what the deuce Ahutosh Lal Deb meant.
Ahutosh Lal Deb referred them severally to Mr. Hawkins Mumrath, who had driven out to chuckle over his victory all alone at the head of the bricklined grave with the masonry foot-rests. The she-cobra was sunning herself by the edge of the grave with her little ones about her, for the eggs had hatched out beautifully. Hawkins Mumrath stepped absently on the old lady’s tail, and she bit him in the ankle.
Hawkins Mumrath drove home very quickly, and died in five hours and three-quarters. Then Ahutosh Lal Deb passed the entry to ‘regular account,’ and there was peace in India.