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My First Visit to England
The voyage; obstacles and prejudices—successful in the Civil Service Examination, 1869—disqualified; the Commissioners' mistake—public resentment in India—lawsuit and my re-instatement—my father's death, 1870—Sripad Babaji Thakur, Romesh Chunder Dutt, and Behari Lal Gupta—my English tutors.
As I have observed, I started for England on March 3, 1868, with Romesh Chunder Dutt and Behari Lal Gupta. We were all young, in our teens, and a visit to England in those days was a more serious affair than it is now. It not only meant absence from home and those near and dear to one for a number of years, but there was the grim prospect of social ostracism, which for all practical purposes has now happily passed away. We all three had to make our arrangements in secret, as if we were engaged in some nefarious plot of which the world should know nothing. My father was helping me in every way, but the fact had to be carefully concealed from my mother, and when at last on the eve of my departure the news had to be broken to her, she fainted away under the shock of what to her was terrible news.
We received the most substantial help from the late Mr. Monomohan Ghose, who had just returned from England and had joined the Bar of the Calcutta High Court. A finer and a nobler man I have hardly ever set eyes upon. A warm patriot, he heartily desired that his countrymen should visit England in large numbers, and he was always ready with his advice and with such practical encouragement as lay in his power. So great was the interest he felt in this matter that Michael Madhu Shudan Dutt, our great national poet, nicknamed him 'Protector of Indian Emigrants Proceeding to Europe'. We passed the night preceding our departure at his house at Cossipur, where he was then staying, and before daybreak we started for the steamer at Chandpal Ghat.
Early on the morning of the third of March my father came to wish me good-bye. It was the last sight I was destined to have of him in this world; for he died while I was away in England. I went down with him to his carriage. He was dressed in simple dhoti and chudder, and, as he walked down the steps looking at me he uttered the word, 'Farewell', and turned his back, though his eyes were still fixed on me, the tears trickling down his cheeks.