*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 74042 ***
Transcriber’s Note: This book was published in two volumes, of which
this is the first. The second volume was released as Project Gutenberg
ebook #74043, available at https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/74043.
[Illustration: SRI GŬNÉSHŬ.]
WANDERINGS OF A PILGRIM,
IN SEARCH OF
The Picturesque,
DURING FOUR-AND-TWENTY YEARS IN THE EAST;
WITH
REVELATIONS OF LIFE
IN
THE ZENĀNA.
BY
فاني پارکس
ILLUSTRATED WITH SKETCHES FROM NATURE.
“Let the result be what it may, I have launched my boat.”
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. I.
LONDON:
PELHAM RICHARDSON, 23, CORNHILL.
1850.
LONDON:
GILBERT AND RIVINGTON, PRINTERS,
ST. JOHN’S SQUARE.
To the Memory
OF
MY BELOVED MOTHER,
AT WHOSE REQUEST IT WAS WRITTEN,
THIS NARRATIVE IS DEDICATED:
AND IF ANY OF THE FRIENDS,
WHOSE KIND PARTIALITY HAS INDUCED THEM TO URGE
ITS PUBLICATION,
SHOULD THINK I HAVE DWELT TOO MUCH
ON MYSELF, ON MY OWN THOUGHTS, FEELINGS, AND ADVENTURES,
LET THEM REMEMBER THAT
THIS JOURNAL WAS WRITTEN FOR THE AFFECTIONATE EYE
Of Her
TO WHOM NOTHING COULD BE SO GRATIFYING
As THE SLIGHTEST INCIDENT CONNECTED WITH HER
BELOVED AND ABSENT CHILD,
فاني پارکس
श्री
INVOCATION.
Work-perfecting Gŭnéshŭ! Salamut.
Gănésh!—Gănésh!
Two-mothered! One-toothed!
Portly-paunched! Elephant-faced Gŭnéshŭ!
Salām!!
Moon-crowned! Triple-eyed!
Thou who in all affairs claimest precedence in adoration!
Calamity-averting Gănésh!
Salām!!
Thou who art invoked on the commencement of a journey,
the writing of a book,
Salām!!
Oh! Gănésh, “put not thine ears to sleep[1]!”
“Encourage me, and then behold my bravery;
Call me your own fox, then will you see me perform
the exploits of a lion[2]!”
“What fear need he have of the waves of the sea,
who has Noah for a pilot[3]?”
First-born of Mahādēo and Parvutī!
God of Prudence and Policy!
Patron of Literature!
Salām!!
May it be said,
“Ah! she writes like Gănésh!”
[Illustration: “The Camels were being branded for the Public Service and
the Spider came to be marked also.”
_In stone by Major Parlby_
فاني پارکس]
श्री
INTRODUCTION.
GĂNÉSH, THE PATRON OF LITERATURE.
“WHATEVER THE WANDERING TRAVELLER SAYS, HE DOES SO FROM HAVING SEEN THAT
OF WHICH HE SPEAKS[4].”
So many admirable works have appeared of late, illustrating scenes in
India, both with pen and pencil, that I offer these sketches in all
humility, pleading the force of example.
“THE CAMELS WERE BEING BRANDED WITH HOT IRONS FOR THE PUBLIC
SERVICE, AND THE SPIDER CAME TO BE MARKED ALSO[5].”
For four-and-twenty years have I roamed the world,—
“I NEITHER WENT TO MEKKA NOR MUDĪNA, BUT WAS A PILGRIM
NEVERTHELESS[6].”
The Frontispiece represents the idol Gănésh, the deified infant whom I
have invoked.
The sign _Sri_, at the top of the page, implores his triple eyes to look
with favour on the undertaking,—in the same manner that this sign, ♃, the
old heathen invocation to Jupiter, sought his blessing; and is equivalent
to the usual invocation of the poets to the Muses,—the Muhammadan authors
to the Prophet,—or the “Laus Deo,” with which merchants’ clerks formerly
began their books,—a practice not yet quite extinct.
“Sri” is written at the top of all Hindi writings; the meaning of the
word is “prosperity;” it is put as a title of respect before proper
names; frequently they write the same word twice over (“Sri, Sri,”)—or
they write “Sri Gănésh.” The Muhammadans, in a similar manner, dedicate
their writings to God by a character on the first page, which, as in
short-hand writing, implies a whole sentence.
The history of Gănésh is as follows:
“I SPEAK TO THOSE WHO HAVE DAUGHTERS, AND LET THOSE WHO HAVE
SONS LISTEN[7]!”
Parvutī, the mountain-born, the daughter of the Himalaya, the mountain
goddess, the mother of Gănésh the wisest of deities, on the birth of her
son, charmed with his beauty, and proud of the infant, in the presence
of the gods assembled in council, requested their congratulations on the
happy event.
Shivŭ the destroyer, although he paid the compliments necessary on the
occasion, ever avoided looking upon the child. The mother naturally
reproved him; Shivŭ, annoyed at the rebuke, gazed upon the infant, whose
beautiful head instantly withered away beneath a glance which none can
endure and live.
Indra, the abode of the gods, resounded with the lamentations of Parvutī,
who, struck with dismay, was inconsolable.
Brahma, having pity on her distress, bade her be comforted, and commanded
Shivŭ to bring the head of the first animal that he should find lying
with its head to the north.
This sleeping with the head to the north is unlucky, and ever to be
avoided, it being forbidden by the Shăstr, and the penalty thereof death.
Shivŭ went forth: the first animal he encountered in the above-mentioned
unlucky position being an elephant, he cut off its head, and, returning
to the assembly of the gods, fixed it upon the body of Gănésh. Seeing
this, the mother became frantic, nor could she be consoled until Brahma
thus addressed her: “Lament not the fate of your child;—with the head
of an elephant he shall possess all sagacity. In _pūja_ Gănésh shall be
invoked ere any other god be worshipped, hence shall he be greater than
all the gods. Ere a pious Hindū commence any sort of writing, the sign of
Gănésh shall he make at the top of the page, otherwise his words shall
be folly, and his traffic a matter of loss. He shall be the patron of
learning, his writing shall be beautiful.
“‘Behold! he writes like Gănésh!’ who shall say more?—with the simplicity
of the child shall be united the wisdom of the elephant, his power shall
be all-seeing—The patron of literature and work-perfecting.”
The daughter of the Himalaya listened to the words of Brahma, and the
heart of the mother found consolation in the honours bestowed upon her
child.
He is called two-mothered, uniting the elephant’s head to his natural
body, therefore having a second mother in the elephant.
In the wars of heaven he lost one tusk, hence his appellation one-toothed.
His quadruple hands and arms denote power. In one of his hands is the
_ānkus_, the instrument with which the elephant is guided; in another a
battle-axe. Being a child, and therefore fond of sweetmeats, a third hand
bears a small cup filled with _pera_, a sweetmeat common in all bazārs;
in the fourth he carries a short rosary, wherewith he counts his beads.
Around his neck is twined the _Cobra-di-capello_, the holy serpent, whose
hood is outspread upon his breast. This image is dignified by a frontal
eye, signifying the sun, encircled by a crescent, a sol lunar emblem and
mystical mark, hence “moon-crowned,” “triple-eyed.” His attendant, a rat,
holding a _pera_, sweetmeat, is placed at his side: on his head is a
crown, and around his limbs a yellow _dhotī_, a cloth of Benares tissue
edged with gold. His body is covered with ornaments of rich jewellery,
such as are worn by men in the East,—his single tusk is bound with
gold,—his hands and feet are dyed with _menhdī_, hinnā. On each of his
four arms are two _bāzūbands_, or armlets; and _chūrīs_, or bracelets, of
massive gold, adorn his wrists. A golden plate on the back of the hand
is fastened round the wrist by chains of gold, and from the upper part
similar but finer chains pass over the back of the hand, and unite with
rings on all the fingers and the thumb. This ornament is very peculiar;
both hands are thus adorned. The _chaunrīs_ above his head, emblems of
royalty, are used by the attendant Brahmāns to keep off the flies; they
wave them over the head of the idol during _pūja_.
Gănésh is seated on an altar, such as is used in the _mut’hs_, Hindū
temples, surrounded by divers idols, sacred shells, and instruments of
worship; small brass cups filled with oil, called _chirāghs_, are burned
as lamps before the shrine. The worshippers pour oil and the holy water
of the Ganges over the head of the god, which is thus bathed daily, and
offerings of boiled rice and flowers are made at the time of prayer. The
conch shell, which lies before him, is blown by the Brahmāns during the
hours of pūja at different times—it is considered very holy—the priest
holds it clasped in both hands, and blows into it from the top. The
sound can be heard afar off, especially when on the river at the time
of evening worship; it resounds from every side of the water, mingled
with the ringing of the priest’s bells and the sound of a sort of brass
castanet, which they strike whilst chanting forth their prayers.
The opening of these shells is on the left side; but they say a shell
is sometimes found with the opening on the right side, and its spiral
involutions reversed; it is then called _Dūkshina Vŭrtŭ_, and is valued
at from three to five hundred rupees. Vishnŭ is said to hold a shell of
this sort in his hand. Shells are placed with flowers around the idol,
the bull-mouthed is considered sacred, and often adorns the shrine.
Small brass bells are used in worship; some are decorated with the image
of Hŭnoomān, some with the sacred cow. They are rung during pūja, not
only, it is said, to amuse the god, but to keep off evil spirits.
The shape of the spoon with which the rice or oil is put upon the head
of the image is remarkably beautiful and antique. The top of the spoon
bears the image of Gănésh, crowned by the _Nāgā_, or holy serpent, with a
hundred heads, which are outspread, to screen him from the sun.
This idol is made of solid white marble, and weighs three hundred weight
and a quarter. It is painted and gilt, as in the Frontispiece. It was
brought down from Jeypūr to the sacred junction of the triple rivers at
Prāg, at which place it came into my possession.
Although a _pukka Hindū_, Gănésh has crossed the _Kālā Pānī_, or Black
Waters, as they call the ocean, and has accompanied me to England.
There he sits before me in all his Hindū state and peculiar style of
beauty—my inspiration—my penates.
O Gănésh, thou art a mighty lord! thy single tusk is beautiful, and
demands the tribute of praise from the Hājī of the East. Thou art the
chief of the human race; the destroyer of unclean spirits; the remover of
fevers, whether daily or tertian! The pilgrim sounds thy praise; let her
work be accomplished!
SALĀM! SALĀM!
فاني پارکس
CONTENTS TO VOL. I.
PAGE
INTRODUCTION.
Gănésh, the Patron of Literature—Parvutī—The Gods in
Council—Chaunrīs of the Yāk—The Conch Shell—Bells used in
Pūja—The Sacred Spoon—The Kālā-Pānī—The Salām vii
CHAPTER I.
DEPARTURE FROM ENGLAND.
1822, _April_.
Flying Visit to Switzerland—The good Ship ‘Marchioness of
Ely’—H. M. 16th Lancers—Porto Santo—Fellow-Passengers—Isle
of Palma—Divine Service—The Band—Quadrilles—The first
Shark—Bristol Water—Skip-jacks—Prickly Heat—Crossing the
Line—Amusements on Board—A Blue Shark—Sucking-Fish—Bonito—Santa
Trinidada and Martin Vas Rocks—The Albatross—Thoughts of
Home—A Calm—Shooting Season on the Ocean—Three Days of
Battue—Whale-Shooting—A deep Calm—Scarcity of Water—Anchored at
Carnicobar 1
CHAPTER II.
CARNICOBAR.
1822, _October_.
Appearance and Attire of the Islanders—Canoes—Visit to their
Village—Ornaments of the Natives—Departure from the Island—The
Andamans—Anchorage at Saugor—The Hoogly—Arrival in Calcutta 14
CHAPTER III.
LIFE IN INDIA.
1822, _November_.
Calcutta—First Impressions—Style of Indian
Houses—Furniture—Mats—Arabs—Departure of the
Marquis of Hastings—Fogs—Christmas-Day—Indian
Servants—The Sircar—Thieves—The Hot
Winds—Pankhās—Fire-flies—North-Westers—The
Foliage—Musquitoes—Elephantiasis—Insects—The Chŭrŭk
Pooja—Religious Mendicants 20
CHAPTER IV.
RESIDENCE IN CALCUTTA.
1823.
Baboo Ramohun Roy—Nāch girls—Children in India—Sickness in
the Fort—The Rains—Vessels for a Voyage on the Ganges—Indian
Fever—Arrival of Lord Amherst—Introduction of Steam-boats on
the Hoogly—Interest of Money in Calcutta—Robberies—Jamh o
Deen, Prince of Mysore—The Doorga Pooja—Images of Clay—The
Races—Chinese Screens—The Dog Crab 29
CHAPTER V.
RESIDENCE IN CALCUTTA.
1824.
Advantages and Disadvantages—Interest never
sleeps—Barrackpore—Cairipoor—The Fakīr—The
Menagerie—Hyena—Change of Residence to Chowringhee Road—Mouse
and Spotted Deer—Bengallee Goats—Lotteries—Trial by Rice—The
Toolsee—Epidemic Fever—Burmese War—Major Sale—Haileybury—The
Hooqŭ—Dr. Kitchener—Death of Lord Byron—Early
Marriages—Pleasures of the Cold Season—Indian Hospitality—Knack
of Fortune-making lost 37
CHAPTER VI.
RESIDENCE IN CALCUTTA.
1825.
A Day in March—The Furlough and Pension Funds—Bandicote
Rats—The Strand—The Cutting System—Harrow-on-the-Hill—Sickness
in Amman—The Golden Feet—Arrival of Lord
Combermere—Bhurtpore—La Pucelle—Marsh Fever—Change of Residence
to Middleton Row, Chowringhee—Fogs up to the Second Story—Burrā
Bazār—Seed Pearl 50
CHAPTER VII.
DEPARTURE FROM THE PRESIDENCY.
1826.
Fulbertus Sagittarius—Billiards—The Recall of Lord
Amherst—Zenāna of an opulent Hindoo—The Death
of Bishop Heber—Affliction in the Family of the
Governor-General—Appointment to Allahabad—Sale of ‘Scamp’—March
up the Country—Dāk Bungalows—Fakīrs en route—The Soane
River—Sassaram—Suttees at Nobutpoor—Benares—Pooja in a Hindoo
Temple—Brāhmani Bulls—The Minarets—Beetle Wings—Hindoo
House—Benares Hackeries—Dāk to Allahabad—Visit to Papamhow 58
CHAPTER VIII.
LIFE IN THE MUFASSIL.
1827, _January_.
First Visits in the East—Papamhow—Runjeet Singh’s
Illness—Death of Lord Hastings—Lord Amherst created Earl of
Arracan—Marriage of a Neem to a Peepul—The Bacäin—A Koord
Arab—Visit to Lucnow—His Majesty Nusseer-ood-Deen Hyder—Lord
Combermere—Kywan Jab—Presents not allowed to be accepted—Fights
of Wild Beasts—Quail—Departure of Lord Combermere—Skinner’s
Horse—Return to Prāg 70
CHAPTER IX.
RESIDENCE AT ALLAHABAD.
1828.
Sinking a Well—Hurriannah Cows—Delhi Goats—The Jumnapār—Doomba
Sheep—Buffalo Humps—Water-cresses—Marrowfat Peas—Carrots—The
Chatr—The Oleander—The Ice-pits—Cream Ice, how to
freeze—Burdwan Coal—Indian Fevers—Mr. Bayley, Viceroy—Fear of
the Invasion of the Russians and Persians—Intense Heat—Deaths
in the Farm-yard—Chota Jehannum—The Verandah at Noon—Mad
Pariah—Trelawny—Châteaux en Espagne—Height of the two
Rivers—Death of the Bishop of Calcutta—An Hummām—The first
Steamer at Prāg 77
CHAPTER X.
LIFE IN THE ZENĀNA.
1828, _October_.
Zenāna of the King of Oude—Regiment of Females—The Favourite
Wife—The English Begam—The Princess of Delhi, _the_ Begam
_par excellence_—Colonel Gardner—Mirza Sulimān Sheko and his
fifty-two Children—The Forty Princesses—Mootee, the Pearl of
the Desert—Hunting Season at Papamhow—Jackals and Foxes—A
Suttee at Prāg—Report of a Suttee—An Ill-starred Horse 87
CHAPTER XI.
RESIDENCE AT PRĀG.
1829.
March to Benares—Misfortunes _en suite_—The Hummām of the
Rajah—Flowers of Wax and Ubruk—Return to Prāg—Storm _en
route_—Gram—A Central Government—Thieves, Domestic—Snake
in the Stable—Death in a Pālkee—Power of the Sun to change
the Sex—Lord William Bentinck—Half-Batta—The Jaws of the
Crocodile—The Clipper—Discontent of the Army—Recovery of the
Stolen Rupees—The Gosāin—Ram Din—The Ancient Temple 98
CHAPTER XII.
SKETCHES AT ALLAHABAD.
1829.
The Snake-charmer—Ram Leela—Board of Works—The Hukāk—Kurand
Patthar—Pebbles from the Soane and Cane Rivers—Raj
Ghāt—The Dhrumsāla—The Ginee—Temple of Hŭnoomān, Ram, and
Seeta—Ravuna the Giant—Bene-Māhadēo—The Adansonia—Little Jack
Bunce—Encampment of the Governor-General—Ashes of a Rajah
consigned to the Ganges—Christmas-boxes 107
CHAPTER XIII.
REMOVAL TO CAWNPORE—CONFESSIONS OF A THUG.
1830, _January_.
Removal to Cawnpore—Failure of Messrs. Palmer and Co.—An
Appointment at Cawnpore—Removal from Allahabad—The Mowa
Tree—Futtehpore—Dead Body in a Well—The Kutcherry—Confessions
of a Thug 121
CHAPTER XIV.
RESIDENCE AT CAWNPORE.
1830, _March_.
The Iron-shod Lāthī—Coins of Sekunder al Sāni—Hindostanī
Song—The first Thermantidote—Dāk to Cawnpore—The
Barkandāz—The Station—Sand-storm—Indian Method of Washing the
Hair—Pukka Houses and Bungalows—The Ayha’s Revenge—Horses
Poisoned—The Isle of France—The Visionary Old Man—Influence
of Women in India—Gambling—Eating the Air—The Ayha’s
Trowsers—Darzees—Refuge of the Distressed—Signet-rings—The
Durwān—Ganges Water—Small-pox—Grass-cutters—Beauty of a Night
in India—Forgery—Qui hy?—Winged Ants and Bugs—The Moon—A
Set-to—Revenge of a Sā’īs—Soldiers in Hospital—Arrak—The
Chārpāī—A New Servant—Unpopularity of the Governor-General 132
CHAPTER XV.
THE THUG’S DICE.
1830, _October_.
The Thug’s Dice—Execution of Eleven Thugs 151
CHAPTER XVI.
RESIDENCE AT CAWNPORE—THE DEWĀLĪ.
1830, _October_.
Aghā Meer the Nawāb—Elephants Swimming the Ganges—Cashmere
Goats—Discontent of the Soldiers—Buffaloes—Methodism—Desertion
of Soldiers to Runjeet Singh—Marks of Age on Stud-bred
Horses—Abolition of Sŭtēē—Pilgrim Tax—The Dewālī—The
Phŭlŭ-hŭrēē Festival—Arrival of Aghā Meer and his
Zenāna—Vicious Horses—Turquoise Mines in Persia—Lament
of the Hindoo Women—Burning the Dead—The Mug Cook—Brutal
Punishment—Plagues of Egypt—Conversion of Hindoo Women—The
Races—The Riding School—Kishmish Bakhshish—Apples and Grapes
from Cabul—Arab Merchants 159
CHAPTER XVII.
SCENES IN OUDE.
1831, _January_.
New Year’s Day—Meeting of the King of Oude and the
Governor-General—Visit of Lord William Bentinck to Lucnow—A
Native Christian—Elephant, Tiger, Buffalo, and Bear
Fights—Constantia—Beautiful Buildings—Departure of the
Governor-General—The Padshāh Bāgh—The Royal Hummām—The King’s
Stables—The Party at the Residency—Dil-Kushā—Zoffani’s
Picture—Doves released from Captivity—The Menagerie—A Zenāna
Garden—Letter of Introduction to the Begams at Delhi—Gardner’s
Horse—The Sorrows of the Begam 173
CHAPTER XVIII.
REVELATIONS OF LIFE IN THE ZENĀNA.
1831.
Pedigree of the Kings of Oude—Lucnow Mohurs—Anniversary of the
Coronation—The Prime Minister—Khema-jah—Feredooa Buckht—Evil
Omens—Mossem-ood-Dowla—Largesse—Hārs, Pān, and Atr—The
Zenāna—Sultana Boa—Mulka Zumanee—Gosseina—Tajmahŭl—Plurality of
Wives 186
CHAPTER XIX.
THE RETURN TO ALLAHABAD—EXECUTION OF TWENTY-FIVE THUGS.
1831, _February_.
Removal to Allahabad—Crocodiles—Aurunzebe’s Fort—The Old
Well at Kurrah—Arrival at Allahabad—The Thermantidote—The
King’s Picture and the Celestials—Pattū—Execution of
Twenty-five Thugs—Cholera—The Effect on the Insane—The
Arabian Leprosy—Elephantiasis—Asylums for the Blind and for
Lepers—Lachhmī, the Goddess of Prosperity—Intense Heat—Early
Rising—Danger of a Thermantidote—List of Servants 196
CHAPTER XX.
SCENES AT ALLAHABAD—PILGRIMAGE TO THE TRIVENI.
1831, _July_.
The old Brahman—The Triveni—The Achivut—The Pātal
Pooree—Temples of Bhardoajmun—Radha Krishnŭ—Hindoo Oath—The
Tulsī—The Peepul-tree—Skeleton Leaves—Lamps in the
Air—Paintings on Ubruk—Impressions on Leaves and Flowers—The
Mootee Musjid—The Crows a Pest—Byā Birds—Haymaking—The
Silver Tankard—An Earthquake—Transferring Diseases to
Flowers—Perjury—Farming Operations—Oats—Bhoodder Ram the
Dwarf—The Camel—The Powder Works and Rocket Manufactory 212
CHAPTER XXI.
LIFE IN THE ZENANA.
1832, _February_.
Devotees at the Great Fair—Wild Ducks—Quail Shooting—Price of
English Hounds—Colonel Gardner—Life in the Zenāna—The Grass
Cutter—Dūb Grass—The Gram-grinder—The Chakkī—Jack Fruit—Duty
of a Sā’īs—Arrangement of a Turban—The young Princes of
Lucnow—Archery—Indian Bows and Arrows—Whistling Arrows—The
Bows, Arrows, and War Hatchet of the Coles—The Pellet
Bow—Witchcraft practised with a charmed Bow 227
CHAPTER XXII.
ADVENTURES IN THE EAST.
1832, _May_.
Gaiety of Allahabad—Lucnow Chutnee—Tails of the Yāk—Horn
of the Unicorn—The Looking-glass Shawl—The First Flight of
Locusts—An Adventure—The Rats’ Granary—Balls—Profiles—The Leaf
Grasshopper—Appointed to Allahabad—Ramohun Roy—The Bottle of
Horrors—Narrative of a Thug—The Quicksand—Meteors and Falling
Stars—Hanging oneself for spite—The Sipahī Guard—The Ghurī—The
Sitar—The Ektara—The Gynee Club—Soonghees—Colonel Gardner 238
CHAPTER XXIII.
THE GREAT FAIR AT ALLAHABAD.
1833, _January_.
Booths at the Fair—Diamonds, Pearls, Shawls, Sable,
Coral—The Triveni—Suicide—Religious Mendicants—The Sacred
Ginī—Consecration of an Idol—Household Gods—Rosaries—Pilgrims,
Carriers of Holy Water—Snakes—Arrival of Lady William
Bentinck—Visit to the Fair—Description of the
Frontispiece—Chamelee, the Brahmanical Bull 253
CHAPTER XXIV.
THE NUT LOG.
1833, _February_.
The Hounds—A Gumuki—The Eade—Trelawny—The Rev. J. Wolff—The
Nut Log—Balancing Goat—Sirrākee Grass—A Dividend—Ear-rings
of Jasmine—A Rat given to a Cow—The Mādār—Enamelled
Grasshoppers—The Shaddock—The Agra Gun—Corruption of
Words—Variegated Locusts—Beautiful Flowers 267
CHAPTER XXV.
THE CHOLERA.
1833, _August_.
Hindū Method of Frightening away the Cholera recommended to
the Faculty—Death of the Darzee—Necromancy—The New Moon—A Bull
laden with the Pestilence—Terror of the Natives—The Pathan—An
Earthquake—Sola Hats—Importation of Ice from America—Flight of
Locusts—Steam Navigation—The Civil Service Annuity Fund—The
Bāghsira—Rajpūt Encampment—Hail Storm—Delights of the Cold
Weather 280
CHAPTER XXVI.
THE MUHARRAM.
1834, _May_.
The Imāms the Leaders of the Faithful—The Muharram—The
Procession—The Banners—The Band—The Sword-bearer—The
Mourners—Dhul Dhul—The Reader—The Fakīr—The Taziya—Tomb of
Kasim—Palkī and Trays of Mehndi—Charkh-charkhī Wālā—The
Bihīshtī—Camels—Elephants and Charity—The Chameleon—The
Ghirgit—An Alligator—The Tiger on his Travels—A well-educated
Snake—Indian Fevers—Depression of Spirit 293
CHAPTER XXVII.
THE BRAHMANICAL THREAD.
1834, _June_.
The Janao—The Fakir—The Fair—Pūja of the Cow—Cusa
Grass—The Flying Fox—Air Plants—Musk Deer—Nāg-panchamī—The
Snake—The Pinnace—City of Allahabad—The Pillar in the
Fort—Sealing-wax—Butea Frondosa—The Dewālī—The Bower—Climbers
and Creepers—The Humming Birds—The Pellet Bow—White
Ants—Chintz—The Horseradish Tree—The Ichneumon—The Garden—The
Bouquet—Cold Mornings for Hunting—The Moustache 304
CHAPTER XXVIII.
PILGRIMAGE TO THE TĀJ.
1834, _December_.
The Seagull—The Patelī—Chapātīs—Sujawan Deota—Burriaree
Rocks—Thieves—Parbosa—Temple of Parisnāth—Darogahs—Utility
of a Pellet-bow—The Cane River—The Leak—A
Storm—Kalpee—Belaspoor—Alligators in their own
Wildernesses—River Shells—Passage through the Rocks—A
Pilot—Badowra—Fossil-bones—The Chumbal River—Bhurrage—Burning
the Dead—A Woman Drowned—Cutting through a Sandbank on a Chain
Cable—A Leak—White Ants—Picturesque Scenes—A Tufān—The Mem
Sāhiba’s Speech—River Dogs—Presents of Sweetmeats 321
CHAPTER XXIX.
PILGRIMAGE TO THE TĀJ.
1835, _January_.
Etaweh—Moonlight Ride—The Wolves—Bird-catchers—Peacocks—The
Bar of Sand—The Good Luck of the Mem Sāhiba—Narangee
Ghāt—Betaizor—The Silk-cotton Tree—Fields of the
Cotton Plant—The Chakwā Chukwaee—Eloquence of a
Dhobee—Aladīnpoor—Noon, or Loon—Modelling in Khuree—Cotton
Boats—The Ulāk—Vessels on the River—Plantations of the Castor
Oil Plant—Cutting through a Sandbank—First Sight of the
Tāj—Porcupines—Bissowna—Quitted the Pinnace—Arrival at Agra 336
CHAPTER XXX.
THE TĀJ MAHUL.
1835, _January_.
The Tāj Mahul—Arzumund Bānoo—Shāhjahān—The Screen—The
Echo of the Dome—Momtâza Zumâni—Her Sons and
Daughters—Asaf-jāh—Noormāhul—Ruins of the second Tāj—Offerings
at the Shrine—The Wall—The Kālūn Darwāza—The Fountains—Melā
of the Eed—The Burj—The Jāmma Khāna—The Masjid—The Bāo’lī—Tomb
and Masjid of the Fathīpooree Begam—Tomb of the Akbarābādee
Begam—Ground-plan of the Tāj—The Minarets—Stones used in the
Mosaic—Tomb of the Simundee Begam—The Sitee Khanam—A Farewell
to the Tāj 348
CHAPTER XXXI.
PLEASANT DAYS IN AGRA.
1835, _February_.
The Fort—The Mosque of Pearl—The Jahāngeeree
Mahul—Mher-ul-Nissa—Selīm Ghar—The Palace in the Fort—The
Dewanī Khas—Noor-jahān Burj—Zenāna Masjid—The Shīsha-Mahal—Hall
of Audience—The Vault of Secret Murder—The Black Marble
Slab—The Throne of Akbar—The Steam Baths—The Worship of the
Rising Sun—View from the Bridge of Boats on the Jumna 360
CHAPTER XXXII.
REMARKABLE BUILDINGS AROUND AGRA.
1835, _February_.
The House of the Wuzeer—The Jāma Masjid—Tomb of
Jahānārā Begam—The Tripolia—The Mahookma Masjid—The
Madrissa—Etmad-od-Doulah—Cheen-ke-Masjid—Rām Bagh—Syud
Bagh—Secundra—The Chamber of Gold—Miriam Zemānee—Kos Minārs 370
CHAPTER XXXIII.
REVELATIONS OF LIFE IN THE ZENANA.
1835, _February_.
Invitation to Khāsgunge—Kutchowra—The Zenāna—A Timoorian
Princess—Opium-eating—Native Dishes—The Evening Party—The
Beautiful Begam—Musalmanī Attire and Ornaments—Timūr-lung—Gold
and Silver Beds—Atr of various sorts—Perfume of the Body of the
Prophet—Dye for the Hands and Feet—Churees 378
CHAPTER XXXIV.
LIFE IN THE ZENĀNA, AND CHĪTĀ HUNTING.
1835, _February_.
Plurality of Wives—Intrigues and Hatred—Arrival at
Khāsgunge—The Four Walls—Arwarī Shooting—The Pūtlī-nāch—The
Lynx—Introduction to Colonel Gardner’s Begam—The Morning
Star—The Evening Star—The Nawab of Cambay—The Beautiful
Gardens—The Bara Deri—Rattler—Chītā Hunting—Antelopes—The Sulky
Chītā—Heera Sing—Chītā Hunting attended by Native Ladies 390
CHAPTER XXXV.
FATHIPOOR SICRI AND COLONEL GARDNER.
1835, _March_.
Pilgrimage of Akbar Shāh to Fathīpoor Sicri—Shaikh Selīm
Cheestie—The Jodh Bā’ī—Birth of Selīm—The Tomb of the Saint—The
Gateway—A Tradition—The Temple of Magic—The Zenāna—The Pachīsī
Board—The Mint—Akbārābādee Rupees and Gold Mohurs—The Elephant
Minār—A Child destroyed by a Wolf—Tomb of the Jodh Bā’ī—Agra
built by Akbar—Sketches of Remarkable Living Characters in
India—Legality of a Marriage between a Christian and one of the
Faithful—Colonel Gardner’s Letter—Letter of Colonel Tod—Insult
offered by Holkar—Colonel Gardner’s Marriage—Tomb of Colonel
Hessing—Cure of Influenza within the Four Walls—Death in a
Steam-Bath 401
CHAPTER XXXVI.
THE MARRIAGE.
1835, _March_.
Pedigree of the Bride and Bridegroom—Reports concerning the
Beauty of the Bride—Anxiety of English Gentlemen to marry
into Colonel Gardner’s Family—Mirza Unjun Shekō—The First
Procession—The Bride’s Dress—Necessity of Weeping—The Oily
Mixture—Strict Seclusion—Dress of the Bridegroom—The Oily
Mixture complimentary—The Hoolī—Bridal Songs—The Sāchak—The
Bridegroom’s Procession—Nāch Girls on Platforms—The Menhdi—The
Grand Display in the Bride’s Procession—The Parda—The
Prince dyed with Hinnā—Midnight the Fashionable Hour for
Dinner—Wedding Dishes—Silvered Food—Conclusion of the Day—Mr.
James Gardner—Mulka Begam highly respected; her will is law 420
CHAPTER XXXVII.
THE BURĀT.
1835, _March_.
The Bridegroom fights for his Bride—The Grand
Procession—Superstition of the Prince—Bridal Attire—The
Bride’s Consent—Signing the Contract—The Nose-ring—Dress of
the Bride—The Prince enters the Zenāna—He beholds his Bride—He
carries her off—Colonel Gardner’s Distress—Fanī Bhū’a—The
Bride’s Dower carried in Procession with the newly-married
Couple to the Prince’s Tents—A Singular Custom—Pān 437
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
THE CHĀOTREE.
1835, _April_.
The Chāotree—Timūrian Dance—Churees—Finale of the
Wedding—Jhanee Khanum—The Zenāna Doll—Jealousy of the
Natives—Meals of the Slave Girls—Tara, the Pretty Slave—Conduct
of English Ladies considered extraordinary—Poppy-heads—Devotion
of Native Women to their Husbands—Illness of Colonel
Gardner—Burial-ground of the Family—My Departure—Death of
Colonel Gardner, and of his Begam—Orders of Knighthood—Remarks
on the Muhammadān Religion, and the Punishments of the Grave 447
LIST OF PLATES TO VOL. I.
No. To face page
1. Frontispiece—Gănésh, _to face the Title_.
2. Introduction—The Camels vii
3. The Albatross 8
4. Carnicobar 14
5. The Sircar 21
6. The Chŭrŭk Pūja 27
7. Pūja of the Tulsī 43
8. Bengali Woman 60
9. The Ice Pits 77
10. Temple of Bhāwanī, and Suttees, Alopee Bāgh 95
11. A Dhrumsālā, Bene Mahādēo Ghāt 107
12. Adansonia Digitata 116
13. A Kutcherry 121
14. Hindōstanī Song 133
15. A Barkandāz 135
16. The Durwān 142
17. The Thug’s Dice 151
18. Elephant Fights 173
19. Pedigree of the Kings of Oude 186
20. Lachhmī, the Goddess of Beauty 207
21. The Grass-cutter 231
22. Hebrew Hymn 270
23. The Imāms the Leaders of the Faithful 293
24. The Tāj 348
25. Ground-plan of the Tomb of the Tāj 357
26. The Tomb of Akbar Shāh 374
27. Tomb of Shaikh Selim Cheestie 403
28. Pedigree of Colonel William Gardner 420
GLOSSARY.
A.
_Āb_, water. _Ābdār_, water-cooler.
_Abīr_, red powder used in the Holī.
_Ābnūs_, ebony.
_Achchhā_, good.
_Ādāb_, salutation, respects, politeness.
_Adālut_, court of justice.
_Ādam-ḵẖor_, a cannibal.
_Afgan_, overthrowing.
_Afg̱ẖān_, the name of a race of people who inhabit the country to the
north-west of Lahore; called also _Pathans_. They are supposed to be of
Jewish extraction.
_Afīm_, or _aphīm_, opium.
_Agārī pichhārī_, the ropes with which horses are tied.
_Agast_, æschynomene grandiflora.
_Āghā_, lord master.
_Aghan_, the eighth Hindū solar month.
_Aghorī_, professing _ughorpanth_, an order of religious mendicants, who
eat every thing, however filthy, even human carcases; hence, a gross or
filthy feeder.
_Ā’īna_, a mirror.
_Ākās_, the sky, the firmament.
_Ākās-bel_, the air-creeper; it has no root nor leaves, but grows on the
tops of trees.
_Ākās-diya_, a lamp which the Hindūs hang aloft on a bamboo in the month
_Kārtik_.
_Akbar_, very good, greatest.
_Akbarābādī_, of Akbar.
_’Alam_, a spear, a standard.
_’Alam-dār_, standard-bearer (_Abbās_).
_’Ālam-gīr_, conqueror of the universe.
_Allāh_, God. _Allāhu akbar_, God is great!
_Ām_, mango (mangifera Indica).
_Amarī_, a seat with a canopy to ride in on an elephant.
_Ānā_, a copper coin, the sixteenth part of a rupī.
_Anannās_, pine-apple.
_Āndhī_, storm, tempest.
_Angethī_, chafing-dish, brazier.
_Angiya_, a native boddice.
_Ankus_, the elephant goad.
_Arghā_, a vessel shaped like a boat, used by the Hindūs for making
libations in their devotions.
_Ārsī_, a mirror, particularly a mirror in a thumb-ring.
_Āsan_, a seat or small carpet.—See Vol. ii. p. 385.
_Asārh_, the third Hindū solar month (June and July).
_Aswina_, the first month of the Hindū lunar year.
_Ātashbāzī_, fireworks.
_Ātash-khwar_, fire-eater; name of a bird, the _chakor_.
_Atr_, perfume. _Atr-dan_, perfume-box.
_Avatār_, a descent.
_Ayb_, or _aib_, spot, mark, defect.
_Ayha_, a lady’s maid.
_Azan_, the summons to prayers, generally proclaimed from the minārs or
towers of a mosque.
B.
_Baboo_, a Hindū gentleman, a Calcutta merchant.
_Babūl_, mimosa Arabica.
_Badrī-nāth_, a celebrated place of pilgrimage.
_Badshah_, or _pādshāh_, a king.
_Bāgh_, a tiger.
_Bāgḥ_, a garden.
_Bāghsira_, gryllus monstrosus.
_Bāghīchar_, a small garden.
_’baghnā_, an ornament made of tigers’ claws.
_Bahādur_, champion, boaster.
_Bahangī_, a stick with ropes hanging to each end, for slinging baggage
to, which is carried on the shoulder.
_Bahut_, much, most.
_Bā’ī_, mistress, lady amongst the Mahrattas.
_Bailī_, bullock carriage.
_Bairāgī_, a fakīr.
_Bājrā_, panicum spicatum.
_Bakāyan_, melia sempervirens.
_Baḵẖshish_, a gift; _bakhshnā_, to give.
_Bakrā_, he-goat.
_Bandar_, a monkey.
_Bandh_, an embankment.
_Banglā_, a thatched house.
_Baniya_, shop-keeper.
_Bāns_, the bamboo.
_Bā’olī_, a large well.
_Barā_, great.
_Barā-dīn_, a holiday.
_Bāra-singha_, twelve-horned stag (cervus elaphus).
_Barāt_, marriage procession.
_Bardār_, a bearer.
_Barha’ī_, a carpenter.
_Bārī_, a garden house.
_Barkandāz_, a native policeman.
_Basantī_, yellow, the favourite colour of Krishna.
_Bastī_, a village.
_Baṭer_, quail.
_Batū’ā_, a small bag.
_Baunā_, a dwarf.
_Bāwarchī_, cook.
_Bayā_, loxia Indica.
_Bāzār_, market.
_Bāzūbands_, armlets.
_Begam_, lady.
_Bel_, ægle marmelos (cratæva religiosa).
_Belā_, jasminum zambac.
_Bengālī_, a native of Bengal.
_Bér_, or _bar_, ficus Indica.
_Besan_, flour or meal of pulse, particularly of _chanā_ (cicer
arietinum).
_Betī_, daughter.
_Bhabhūt_, ashes which the fakīrs use.
_Bhagat_, a devotee of a religious order, peculiar to the low tribes,
whose initiation consists in putting a necklace of beads around the neck,
and marking a circle on the forehead; after which the initiated person is
bound to refrain from spirituous liquors, flesh, &c.
_Bhāgulpūr_, the town of.
_Bhagwān_, the Deity, the Supreme Being, fortunate.
_Bhains_, buffalo.
_Bhaiyā_, brother.
_Bhang_, or _bhengh_, cannabis Indica.
_Bhātā_, an extra allowance to troops on service.
_Bhū’a_, a father’s sister.
_Bhūsā_, chopped straw.
_Bichchhū_, the scorpion.
_Bidrī_, a kind of _tutanag_, inlaid with silver, used to make _hukka_
bottoms, cups, &c.
_Bīghā_, a quantity of land, containing 20 _katthās_, or 120 feet square,
or 1600 square yards, which is nearly one-third of an English acre; in
the Upper Provinces it is nearly five-eighths of an acre.
_Bihisht_, paradise.
_Bihishtī_, a water-carrier.
_Bilva_, or _bilwa_, cratæva marmelos (Linn.).
_Binaulā_, seed of the cotton tree.
_Biskhopra_, lacerta iguana.
_Bismillāh_, in the name of God.
_Boxwālā_, an itinerant merchant with a box of goods.
_Brahm_, or _Brŭmhŭ_, the one eternal God.
_Brahma_, the first person of the Hindū trinity.
_Brahman_, an Hindū priest.
_Brahmand_, the mundane egg of the Hindūs.
_Bṛindāban_, the forest of _Bṛindā_, in the vicinity of _Mathurā_,
celebrated as the scene of Krishna’s sports with the Gopīs.
_Burāk_, Muhammad’s steed.
_Burhiyā_, old woman.
_Burj_, a bastion, tower; _burūj_, pl.
_Burjī_, a turret, a small tower.
_Burka_, a dress, a disguise.
C.
_Chabenī_, parched grain.
_Chābuk_, a whip.
_Chabūtāra_, a terrace to sit and converse on.
_Chādir_, _Chādar_, mantle, garment.
_Chakkī_, a mill-stone.
_Chakor_, partridge (perdix chukar).
_Chakwā_, Brāhmanical duck.
_Chakwī_, the female of the _chakwā_.
_Chamār_, currier, shoemaker.
_Champā kalī_, a necklace.
_Chanā_, gram (cicer arietinum).
_Chānd_, the moon.
_Chandnī-chauk_, a wide and public street or market.
_Chandnī kā mār-janā_, a disease in horses, supposed to proceed from a
stroke of the moon. “The moonlight has fallen on him,” is said especially
of a horse that is weak in the loins.
_Chāotree_, or _chauthī_, a marriage ceremony, the fourth day.
_Chapātī_, a thin cake of unleavened bread.
_Chaprāsī_, a messenger or servant wearing a _chaprās_, badge.
_Chār_, four.
_Charḵẖī_, a spinning-wheel, &c.
_Chārpāī_, bed, four-legged.
_Chatā’ī_, mat.
_Chatr_, umbrella.
_Chauk_, market.
_Chaukīdār_, watchman.
_Chaunrī_, fly-flapper.
_Chhach hūndar_, musk-rat.
_Chhallā_, thumb or great toe ring.
_Chhappar_, a thatched roof.
_Chhat_, roof.
_Chhattak_, about an ounce.
_Chilamchī_, washhand bason.
_Chirāgh_, lamp.
_Chirāgh-dān_, stand for lamps.
_Chiṛi-mār_, bird-catcher.
_Chītā_, hunting leopard.
_Chītthī_, note.
_Chob-dār_, mace-bearer.
_Chor_, or _cho’ār_, thief.
_Chūlee_, a fire-place.
_Chūnā_, lime.
_Chūrī_, bracelets.
_Chŭrŭk-pūja_, a festival.
_Chyūnta_, black ant.
_Compound_, ground around a house.
_Conch_, a shell.
_Corook._ See _Kurk_.
D.
_Dabāo_, pressure.
_Daftarī_, the paper-ruler, penmaker, &c.
_Dāk_, post, post-office.
_Dakait_, or _dākū_, a robber.
_Daldal_, bog, quagmire.
_Dālī_, basket of fruit.
_Damṛī_, a coin, four to a _paisā_.
_Dānd_, oar.
_Dāndī_, boatman.
_Darbār_, hall of audience.
_Dārogha_, head man of an office, inspector.
_Darwāza_, a door; _darwān_, doorkeeper.
_Daryā-i_, or _daryā_, the sea, river.
_Darzī_, a tailor.
_Dastkhatt_, signature.
_Dastūrī_, perquisites paid to servants by one who sells to their master.
_Daulut-khāna_, house of fortune.
_Derā_, a dwelling, a tent.
_Devī_, a goddess.
_Dewālai_, _dewāl_, or _dewālaya_, temple of idols.
_Dewālī_, an Hindū festival, celebrated on the day of the new moon
of _Kārtik_; when the Hindūs, after bathing in the Ganges, perform a
_shraddhā_, and at night worship Laksḥmī; the houses and streets are
illuminated all night; and in Hindostan the night is universally spent in
gaming.
_Dhān_, rice before it is separated from the husks.
_Dhanuk_, a bow, a bowman.
_Dhobī_, washerman.
_Dhotī_, a cloth, passed round the waist, passing between the limbs, and
fastening behind.
_Dighī_, a large tank or reservoir, in the form of an oblong square.
_Dil_, heart; _dil-kushā_, heart-expanding.
_Dillī_, or _Dihlī_, the metropolis of Hindūstan; generally called by
Musalmāns Shah-jehan-abad, and by Europeans Delhi.
_Dinghee_, a small boat.
_Dīwak_, white ant.
_Dīwān-i-am_, public hall of audience.
_Dīwān-i-ḵẖās_, privy-council chamber.
_Dog̱ẖ_, buttermilk.
_Dohā’ī_, or _duhā’ī_, mercy.
_Dolī_, a kind of sedan for women.
_Domra_, the name of a caste of Musalmāns, the males of which are
musicians, and the females sing and dance in the company of females only.
_Donī_, a native vessel or boat.
_Dopatta_, or _dupatta_, a sheet of two breadths.
_Do-shāla_, or _du-shāla_, two and shawl, two shawls being always worn
together by the natives.
_Dosūtā_, two-threaded cloth.
_Dūb_, name of a grass (agrostis linearis).
_Dūdhiyā_, milky.
_Duldul_, a hedgehog; the name of the horse of ’Ali, the prophet’s
son-in-law.
_Dūlhā_, or _dūlha_, bridegroom.
_Dulhān_, bride.
_Dumba_, a kind of sheep with a thick tail.
_Durga_, one of the names of Bhawānī, the goddess Durgā.
_Durga-pūja_, the festival in honour of Durgā.
_Durgah_, a tomb, a shrine.
E.
_Eed_, a festival, a solemnity.
F.
_Fajr_, morning; _barī-fajr_, early dawn.
_Faḵẖr_, glory, nobility.
_Fakīr_, a religious mendicant.
_Falīta_, fusee; _falīta-dār_, a matchlock.
_Fānūs_, a shade to keep the wind from a candle.
_Fatḥ_, victory.
_Fāṭīma_, the daughter of the prophet, and the wife of the caliph ’Ali.
_Fidwī_, devoted (your devoted servant).
_Fīl_, elephant.
_Fīl-ḵẖāna_, elephant shed.
_Fīl-pāī_, elephantiasis.
G.
_Gaddī_, sovereign’s throne.
_Gāgrī_, a water-vessel of brass.
_Gainā_, a species of small bullock.
_Gaini_, a carriage for a _gainā_.
_Galahi_, forecastle.
_Gal’haiya_, boatswain, forecastle-man.
_Gālī_, abuse.
_Gāndar_, a kind of grass, of which _khas-khas_ is the root (andropogon
muricatum).
_Ganjha_, or _gānja_, the young buds on the leaves of the hemp-plant.
_Garh_, a fort, as _fatīh-garh_.
_Garī_, a cart, a carriage.
_Garī-wan_, carter, driver.
_Gaur_, an ancient city, formerly the capital of Bengal.
_Ghantā_, a clock.
_Ghar_, a house.
_Gharā_, an earthen water-pot.
_Gharāmī_, a thatcher.
_Gharī_, an instrument for measuring time, a water-clock.
_Gharis_, division of time.
_Ghariyāl_, a crocodile, a plate of brass for beating time.
_Ghariyālī_, the person who attends the _gharī_, and strikes the hours.
_Gharna’ī_, a raft supported by empty pots (_gharā_, an earthen
water-pot).
_Ghī_, clarified butter.
_Ghirgut_, or _girgut_, lizard, chameleon.
_Ghulām_, slave.
_Ghunghrū_, a small bell, or little bells on a string for the ankles.
_Ghur_, or _ghorā_, a horse.
_Ghur-daur_, race-course.
_Ghuwā_, a coarse kind of cotton cloth.
_Go-mukhī_, a cloth bag, containing a rosary, the hand being thrust in
counts the beads; the chasm in the Himalaya mountains, through which the
Ganges issues.
_Gobar_, cow-dung.
_Gola_, a granary.
_Gop_, a cow, a caste.
_Gopī_, feminine of _gwālā_, a cowherd.
_Gor-istān_, burying-ground.
_Gosā’īn_, a holy man.
_Gul-āb_, rose-water.
_Gul-badan_, a kind of silk cloth.
_Gulistān_, rose garden.
_Gun_, track rope.
_Gūnth_, a pony.
_Gurū_, spiritual director.
H.
_Hājī_, pilgrim.
_Hajjām_, a barber.
_Hakīm_, a physician, a learned man.
_Hakrī_, a cart.
_Hammām_, a hot bath.
_Hān_, yes.
_Hāndī_, a pot, a small cauldron.
_Hār_, a necklace of pearls, a wreath, a chaplet of flowers.
_Hargilla_, the adjutant, or gigantic crane.
_Harkāra_, running footman.
_Harphārewrī_, or _harphāraurī_, the name of a sour fruit (averrhoa
acida, Linn.).
_Hāth_, the hand, a cubit, or eighteen inches.
_Hāthī_, an elephant.
_Hathī-wān_, elephant-driver.
_Hawāldār_, a native military officer of inferior rank.
_Hāzim_, digestive.
_Hāzir_, present.
_Hāzirī_, breakfast.
_Ḥaẓrat_, a title addressed to the great; majesty; highness.
_Ḥaẓrat’īsā_, Jesus Christ.
_Hinnā_, the tree lawsonia inermis.
_Hirdāwal_, the name of a defect in horses.
_Hisāb_, accounts, computation.
_Howā_, air.
_Howdah_, a seat to ride in on an elephant, without a canopy.
_Hubāb_, a bubble.
_Hubāb-i_, bubbling.
_Hukāk_, stone-cutter, lapidary.
_Huḳḳa_, or _hooqŭ_, a pipe.
_Huḳḳa-bardar_, pipe-bearer.
_Hukm_, order.
_Huzūr_, the presence.
I. J.
_Jādū_, enchantment.
_Jādū-garī_, magic.
_Jafari_, lattice-work.
_Jāgīr_, land given as a reward for service.
_Jahānārā_, world adorning.
_Jahān-gīr_, world-taking.
_Jahān-pannāh_, world protection, his majesty, your majesty.
_Jahannam_, the infernal regions.
_Jahaz_, a ship.
_Jahāzi_, a sailor.
_Jai_, or _jaya_, triumph, victory, bravo! huzza! all hail!
_Ja’ī_, oats.
_Jamadār_, head of the _harkāras_.
_Jān_, life, soul, spirit.
_Janao_, Brāhmanical thread.
_Jangal_, forest.
_Janglī-kawwa_, a raven.
_Janwār_, an animal.
_Jawāb_, an answer.
_Jhaīhar_, cymbals or bells for the ankles.
_Jhāmā_, pumice-stone, bricks burnt to a cinder.
_Jhāmp_, a matted shutter.
_Jhārū_, a broom.
_Jhārū-bardar_, a sweeper.
_Jinn-ī_, genii.
_Ikbal_, good fortune.
_Imām_, a leader in religious affairs.
_Indra_, the Hindū heaven.
_Joār_, or _jwār_, millet (andropogon sorghum).
_Ishk-peshā_, ipomea quamoclit.
_Islām_, the religion of Muhammad.
_Istrī_, a smoothing iron, a wife.
_Jum’a_, Friday.
_Jum’a-rāt_, Thursday, eve of Friday.
_Izār-bund_, the string with which trowsers are tied.
K.
_Ka’ba_, the temple of Mecca.
_Kabr_, a grave, a tomb.
_Ḳabūl_ or _ḳubūl_, consent, assent.
_Kābul_, the capital of Afg̱ẖanistān.
_Kacharī_, or _kacherī_, court of justice, an office.
_Kachchhī_, a horse with a hollow back, from the province of Kachchh, on
the banks of the Sind.
_Kachnār_, bauhinia variegata.
_Ḳadam_, a footstep.
_Ḳadam-bos_, one who kisses the feet of a superior.
_Kadam-chūṃṇā_, to kiss the feet, to bid adieu.
_Kāfir_, infidel.
_Kāfūr_, camphor.
_Kāghaz_, paper.
_Kāghazī_, paper-case.
_Kāhan_, an aggregate number, consisting of 17 _pans_, or 1280 _kaurīs_.
_Kahār_, a palkī bearer.
_Kahwa_, coffee.
_Kālā_, black.
_Kālā chor_, an unknown person, a domestic thief.
_Kālā namak_, a kind of rock salt, impregnated with bitumen and sulphur.
_Kālā pānī_, the ocean, the black water.
_Kālā zīra_, the seeds of the nigella Indica.
_Kalam_, a pen, a reed.
_Kalam-dan_, inkstand.
_Kalg̱ẖī_, an ornament on a turban, an aigrette, a plume.
_Kālī_, the goddess; or, _Kālī Mā_, the black mother.
_Kalsā_, the spire or ornament on the top of a dome, a pinnacle.
_Kam-baḵẖt_, unfortunate.
_Kam de’o_, the god of love.
_Kamān_, a bow.
_Kamān-dār_, an archer.
_Kamarband_, a girdle.
_Kammal_, a blanket.
_Kanāt_, canvas enclosure, walls of a tent.
_Kanauj_, the ancient city.
_Kangan_, an ornament worn on the wrists of Hindū women, a bracelet.
_Kangni_, millet (panicum Italicum).
_Kanhaiyā_, a name of _Kṛisḥṇa_.
_Kans_, or _Kansa_, the tyrant whom _Kṛisḥṇa_ was born to destroy.
_Kapās_, cotton undressed, the cotton plant (gossypium herbaceum).
_Kaprā_, cloth.
_Karbalā_, the name of a place in Irāk, where Ḥusain, the son of ’Ali,
was murdered.
_Karbī_, the stalk or straw of _jo’ār_ or _bājrā_ (holcus sorgum and
spicatus).
_Kār-khāna_, workshop.
_Kark-nath_, a fool with black bones.
_Karn-phūl_, a kind of ear-ring.
_Karor_, ten millions.
_Kārtik_, a Hindū month, our October and November.
_Karwā-tel_, oil made from mustard-seed, bitter oil.
_Kās_, a kind of grass of which rope is made (saccharum spontaneum).
_Ḳaṣā’ī_, a butcher, cruel, hard-hearted.
_Kāshī_, the city of Benares.
_Kāsid_, courier, a runner.
_Kath_, an astringent vegetable extract.
_Katmiram_, (vulgo: _catamaran_,) a very small raft, used as a fishing
boat on the coast of Madras.
_Kaurī_, a cowrie, a small shell used as a coin (cypræa moneta).
_Kāwar_, the baskets in which the holy water is carried.
_Kawwā_, a crow.
_Kāzī_, a judge.
_Ḵẖāla_, mother’s sister.
_Ḵẖalāsī_, a sailor, a native artilleryman, a tent pitcher.
_Khān_, a lord, a title of respect.
_Ḵẖāna_, a house.
_Ḵẖānā_, food.
_Khāna-pīnā_, meat and drink.
_Khānsāmān_, head table-servant.
_Ḵẖarītạ_, bag, a letter.
_Khas-khas_, root of _gāndar_.—See _Gāndar_.
_Kḥatrī_, the second of the four grand Hindū castes, being that of the
military.
_Kazānchī_, treasurer.
_Khet_, a field.
_Khidmatgar_, table-servant.
_Khil’at_, dress of honour.
_Khīsā_, a rubber used in baths.
_Khraunchī_, a native carriage.
_Ḵẖudā_, God.
_Ḵẖudā-wand_, master.
_Ḵẖudā-yā_, O God!
_Khūnd_, a well, a spring.
_Khush-bo_, perfume, odour.
_Khusrū_, the king; _Khusrau_, the sultan.
_Kibla-gāh_, the place turned to when at prayer; a father, or the one
beloved.
_Kibla_, Mecca, an altar.
_Kimḵẖwab_, silk brocade worked in gold and silver flowers.
_Kishan_, the Hindū god _Kṛisḥṇa_.
_Kishtī_, (prop. _kashtī_), a ship, boat, barque.
_Kismat_, fate, destiny.
_Kitāb_, a book.
_Kohī_, mountain.
_Kohī-nūr_, the mountain of light, the great diamond.
_Kohirawān_, the moving mountain, _i.e._ the elephant.
_Kot_, a fort.
_Krānī_, a clerk.
_Krishna_, a descent of _Vishnŭ_.
_Kū’ā_, a well.
_Kudalī_, a small pickaxe.
_Ḳulfī_, a cup with a cover, in which ice is moulded.
_Kumbhīr_, an alligator.
_Kumhār_, potter.
_Kum’hir_, a crocodile.
_Kur’ān_, (vulgo: _koran_,) the precepts of Muhammad.
_Kurand_, corundum stone (adamantine spar).
_Kurk_, an order made public, that no one may be seen on the road on pain
of death.
_Kurtā_, a kind of shirt, a tunic.
_Kurtī_, a short garment for women, jacket for soldiers, coat.
_Kusūr_, fault.
_Ḳuṭb_, the polar star, the north pole.
_Kuttā_, a dog.
_Kutwāl_, native magistrate, head of the police.
L.
_Lachḥman_, the half-brother of Rāmachandra.
_Lachḥmī_, the goddess of beauty.
_Lailī_, also _Lailā_, the beloved of Majnūn.
_Lākh_, one hundred thousand; _gum lac_, a kind of wax formed by the
coccus lacca.
_Lāṭ_, or _lāṭh_, obelisk, pillar, club, staff.
_Lāṭhī_, staff, stick.
_Lāw_, a rope, cable.
_Līchī_, a fruit (dimocarpus litchi).
_Līl_, indigo.
_Log_, people.
_Lon_, salt.
_Lota_, a drinking vessel.
_Lubāda_, or _labāda_, a wrapper, great coat.
_Lūnī_, the salt that effloresces from walls.
_Lunj_, or _langrā_, lame.
M.
_Mā_, mother.
_Mā-bāp_, mother and father, parents.
_Machh_, or _Machchh_, the name of the first avatār.
_Machchhar_, a gnat.
_Machhlī_, or _Machhī_, a fish.
_Madrasa_, a Muhammadan college.
_Magar_, an alligator.
_Magrela_, a seed (nigella Indica).
_Mahā-bhārat_, the great war.
_Mahādēo_, or _Mahā-deva_, a descent of Shiva.
_Mahā-kalī_, or _Kalī-mā_, a terrific form of Durgā, the consort of Shiva.
_Māhā-nimba_, melia sempervirens.
_Mahārāj_, great king, excellency.
_Mahārājā_, an Hindū emperor.
_Mahạl_, house.
_Mahāwat_, elephant driver.
_Mahū’ā_, or _mahu’ā_, bassia longifolia, bearing flowers which are
sweet, and from which a spirituous liquor is distilled; the nuts afford
an oil used instead of butter.
_Maidān_, a plain.
_Makka_, vulgo: _Mecca_.
_Makrī_, a spider.
_Mālā_, Hindū rosary, a garland.
_Mālī_, gardener, florist.
_Mālik_, lord, master.
_Manḍap_, or _mandul_, a house, a temple.
_Mangūs_, or _newalā_ (viverra mungo), ichneumon.
_Mānjhī_, master of a vessel, steersman.
_Maṣālaḥ_, spices, drugs, materials.
_Mash’al_, a torch.
_Mash’al-chi_, torch-bearer.
_Mashk_, water bag.
_Masīḥ_, or _Masīḥā_, the Messiah, Christ our Lord.
_Masjid_, mosque.
_Masjid-i-jāmī_, a great mosque.
_Masnad_, a throne, a large cushion.
_Māyā_, idealism, illusion; a deception depending on the power of the
Deity, whereby mankind believe in the existence of external objects,
which are in fact nothing but idea.
_Melā_, a fair.
_Mem sāhiba_, madam, the lady of the house.
_Menhdī_, lawsonia inermis.
_Mihtaranī_, sweeper’s wife.
_Mik’hal_, the instrument with which collyrium is applied to the eyes.
_Mirg_, a deer.
_Mirg nābbī_, musk, a bag of musk.
_Mirzā_, a prince.
_Misī_, or _missī_, a powder to tinge the teeth black.
_Misrāb_, a steel frame for the fore-finger when playing on the sitar.
_Motī_, a pearl.
_Muazzin_, the call to prayers.
_Mufassal_, the country.
_Mugdar_, a club.
_Muḥammad_, the Arabian prophet.
_Muḥarram_, the first Muhammadan month.
_Mulākāt_, interview.
_Mulk_, kingdom, realm.
_Mumtāz_, distinguished, exalted.
_Mŭn_, a weight, forty ser.
_Mund-māl_, a necklace of human heads.
_Munh_, mouth.
_Muniyā_, amadavat.
_Munkir_, _Nakīr_, the names of the two angels who examine the dead in
the tomb.
_Murabbā_, a preserve, confection.
_Musāfir_, a traveller.
_Muṣāhib_, aide-de-camp, companion.
_Muṣallā_, a carpet to pray upon.
_Musalmān_, a Muhammadan.
_Musalmanī_, fem. of _Musalmān_.
_Mushk_, musk.
_Mut’h_, Hindū temple.
N.
_Nāch_, an Indian dance.
_Nadī_, or _naddī_, a river.
_Nadir-shāh_, the king.
_Nā’echa_, a small reed, _hukka_ snake.
_Nāgā_, the holy serpent.
_Nahīn_, or _nā’īch_, not, no.
_Nālā_, a rivulet.
_Nālkī_, a sort of litter used by people of rank.
_Nānd_, a large earthen pan.
_Nārangī_, an orange.
_Nārjīl_, cocoa-nut, or cocoa-nut tree.
_Nasīb_, fortune; _balā-nasīb_, unfortunate.
_Nawab_, vulg. Nabob.
_Nazr_, a gift especially offered to a superior.
_Newala_, mungoose (viverra mungo).
_Newār_, tape.
_N’hut_, a nose-ring.
_Nīl-gāw_, _lil-gā’ī_, or _rojh_, the white-footed antelope of Pennant,
antilope picta of Pallos.
_Nīm_, or _neemb_, margosa tree (melia azadirachta).
_Nīmbu_, or _līmu_, a fruit, the lime.
_Nūn_, _non_, or _lon_, salt.
_Nūr_, light.
_Nut-log_, tumblers.
P.
_Pābos_, kissing the feet.
_Pachāsī_, a game, so named from the highest throw, which is twenty-five.
_Padshāh_, a king.
_Pāgal_, fool; _pāgal-i-nāch_, a fancy-ball.
_Pahār_, a mountain.
_Pahar_, a watch of three hours.
_Pahare-wālā_, a sentry.
_Pahār-i_, a hill, a mountain.
_Pā’ī_, the fourth part of an _ānā_.
_Paisā_, copper coin.
_Pājāma_, trowsers, long drawers.
_Pakkā_, exact, expert, built of brick.
_Palang_, couch, cot.
_Palīta_, match (of a gun).
_Pālkī_, or _palkee_, a palanquin.
_Palwār_, a boat.
_Pān_, leaves of piper betel.
_Panchāyāt_, a court of inquiry.
_Pānī_, water.
_Pankhā_, a fan.
_Pā-posh_, slipper.
_Pāras-patthar_, the philosopher’s stone.
_Pārbatī_, _pārvatī_, mountaineer.
_Parbut_, mountain.
_Parda-nishīn_, remaining behind the curtain.
_Parī_, fairy.
_Pāt_, a leaf, ornament worn in the upper part of the ear.
_Pātā_, a plank on which washermen beat clothes.
_Pātāl_, the infernal regions.
_Patelā_, or _patailā_, a flat-bottomed boat.
_Patelī_, a small flat-bottomed boat.
_Pāthur_, or _patthar_, a stone.
_Pattar_, _puttī_, or _pattī_, a leaf.
_Pattū_, a kind of woollen cloth.
_Pera_, a sweetmeat.
_Peshkār_, minister, deputy.
_Peshwā_, Mahratta minister.
_Peshwāz_, a gown.
_Phāns_, a bamboo.
_Phānsī-gār_, a strangler, a _ṭhag_.
_Phānsnā_, to noose.
_Phurr_, the noise of a bird, as a partridge or quail, suddenly taking
wing.
_Phuslānā_, to decoy.
_Phuslā’ū_, wheedling.
_Pīlī-bhīt_, the name of a town in Rohilkhand, famous for the smallness
and fineness of its rice.
_Pinnace_, a yacht.
_Pīpal_, ficus religiosa.
_Pīr_, a saint.
_Pitārā_, a basket.
_Piyāla_, a glass, a cup.
_Prāg_, the ancient name of Ilāhābād, commonly Allahabad.
_Pūjā_, worship, adoration.
_Pul_, a bridge.
_Pulā’o_, a dish of flesh and rice.
_Pur_, a town, a city.
_Purā_, a large village, a town.
_Purāṇ_ or _purāṇa_, the Hindū mythological books.
_Putla_, a puppet, an image.
_Pūtlī_, a small puppet or image.
_Puwāl_, straw.
R.
_Rahīm_, merciful, compassionate.
_Rahmān_, forgiving.
_Ra’īyat_, tenants, subjects.
_Rāj_, kingdom.
_Rājā_, a prince, a king.
_Rāj-rānī_, a queen, royal consort.
_Rājput_, a descendant of a _rājā_, the name of a celebrated military
caste.
_Rākkī_, a bracelet or amulet, which the Hindūs tie on their arms on
a certain festival, held in the full moon of _Sāwan_, in honour of
_Ḳrisḥṇa_.
_Rām_, the seventh Hindū incarnation.
_Rām-rām_, a Hindū form of salutation.
_Rāmtur’aī_, hibiscus longifolius.
_Rānī_, a Hindu queen or princess.
_Rā’ō_, a prince.
_Rās_, the circular dance performed at the festival of Krishna.
_Rās-dhārī_, a dancing boy.
_Rasūl_, a messenger.
_Rāt-alū_, the yam (dioscorea sativa).
_Rat-aundhā_, blindness at night (nyctalopia).
_Rath_, a four-wheeled carriage.
_Rauza_, mausoleum.
_Rāwtī_, a kind of tent.
_Ṛezai_, or _razā’ī_, a native counterpane.
_Rikhi_ or _ṛisḥi_, a sage, a saint.
_Rohū_, a fish (cyprinus denticulatus).
_Rotī_, wheaten cakes baked on an iron plate, called _tawā_.
_Rūpiya_, a rupee.
_Rustam_, a hero.
S.
_Sach_, truth.
_Sāchak_, hinnā presented to the bride on the day of marriage.
_Sadr’adālut_, supreme court of justice.
_Sāgar_, the sea, the ocean.
_Sāgūn_, teak, a forest tree.
_Sahajnā_, horseradish tree.
_Sāhib_, master, gentleman of the house.
_Sāhiba_, lady.
_Sā’īs_, a groom.
_Sajjāda_, a carpet or mat on which the Muhammadans kneel at prayers.
_Sālagrām_, a stone containing the impression of one or more ammonites.
_Salām_, salutation, peace, safety.
_Salāmut_, salvation, safety.
_Sallam_, cloth.
_Sālotarī_, horse doctor.
_Samāt_, signs.
_Samudr_, the sea.
_Sānchā_, a mould.
_Sang-i-miknātīs_, the loadstone.
_Sang-i-sulaimānī_, agate, onyx.
_Sang-tarāsh_, a stone-cutter, lapidary.
_Sang-i-yashm_, a kind of jasper or agate.
_Sangtara_, an orange (cintra).
_Sankh_, a conch which the Hindūs blow, a shell.
_Sānkho_, shorea robusta.
_Sarā’e_, a native inn.
_Sarā’ī_, a small cover.
_Sārangī_, a musical instrument like a fiddle.
_Sāras_, a species of heron (ardea antigone), saras phenicopteros.
_Sardar_, headman.
_Sarhang_, (corrupt: _serang_,) or _galaiya_, master of a vessel,
commander.
_Sarī_, a dress, consisting of one long piece of cloth or silk, worn by
Hindū women.
_Sarkār_, a superintendent.
_Sarp_, a serpent.
_Sarpat_, a kind of reed or grass (saccharum procerum).
_Sarpesh_, an ornament worn in the turban.
_Sarposh_, cover, lid.
_Satī_, a woman who burns herself on her husband’s funeral pile, chaste,
virtuous, constant.
_Sawār_, a horseman.
_Ser_, two pounds.
_Shab-bo_, polianthes tuberosa.
_Shaddā_, the banners that are carried with the Taziya in the Muharram.
_Shādī_, a wedding, marriage.
_Shāh_, king.
_Shāh-bāsh!_ bravo!
_Shāh-zāda_, a prince.
_Shāhī_, kinglike.
_Shaikh_, (vulgo: _Shekh_,) a chief, a venerable old man.
_Sharāb_, wine.
_Sharm_, shame.
_Shāstr_, Hindū scriptures.
_Shatrang-i_ or _sutraengī_, a kind of carpet.
_Sher_, a tiger, a lion.
_Shī’a_, a follower of the sect of ’Alī.
_Shikār_, chase.
_Shīsha_, glass.
_Shīsha-mahul_, a house adorned with glass.
_Shīsham_, dalbergia sissoo (Roxb.).
_Shiva_, the third person of the Hindū triad.
_Sholā_, (commonly pronounced _sola_,) æschynomene paludosa (Roxb.).
_Sihrā_, a chaplet worn on the head by the bridegroom and bride at the
marriage ceremony.
_Silā_, the stone on which cooks grind, with the looreea or rolling pin
of stone.
_Singhārā_, trapa natans.
_Sipāh’ī_, (whence seapoy,) a soldier.
_Sir_, head.
_Sircar_. See _Sarkār_.
_Sirjāh-tālū_, black mouthed.
_Sītalpatī_, a fine and cool mat.
_Siwālā_, or _shīwālā_, a temple dedicated to Mahadēo.
_Sonā_, gold; _sonahla_, golden.
_Sontā_, a club.
_Sonte-bardār_, a mace-bearer; a person in the retinue of the great,
armed with a short curved club, generally covered with silver.
_Sraddha_, funeral obsequies in honour of ancestors.
_Srī_ or _Shrī_, a name of _Laksḥmī_, the wife of _Visḥṇu_. It is written
as a mark of respect at the beginning of Hindū proper names of persons.
_Sū’ar_, a hog.
_Sūbadār_, governor of a province.
_Sulaimān_, Solomon.
_Sultān_, king, emperor.
_Sunn_, hemp.
_Sunnī_, an orthodox Muhammadan, who reveres equally the four successors
of Muhammad. The Turks are _Sunnīs_, the Persians are _Shī’as_.
_Sūp_, a kind of basket for winnowing corn.
_Supyāri_, betel nut.
_Surāh-ī_, a long-necked goblet.
_Surma_, collyrium.
T.
_Taat_, paper made of hemp, i.e. _sunn_.
_Tāj_, a crown.
_Takā_, a copper coin, equal to two _paisā_.
_Takht_, a throne; _padshah-i-takht_, the king’s throne.
_Taksāl_, the mint.
_Tamāshā_, fun, sport.
_Tana_, a spider’s web.
_Tanjan_, a chair carried by natives.
_Tarāi_, marsh meadows.
_Tasar_, a cloth.
_Tattī_, a screen or matted shutter.
_Tattoo_, a pony.
_Tawā_, the iron plate on which (_rotī_) bread is baked.
_Taziya_, the representation of the tomb of Hasun and Husain, used during
the Muharram.
_Thaili_, purse, bag.
_Thiliyā_, water pot.
_Tīkā_, a mark or marks made with coloured earths, or unguents, upon
the forehead and between the brows, either as ornament or sectorial
distinction; an ornament worn on the forehead.
_Tilak_, a mark the Hindūs make on the forehead.
_Tiriyā_, wife.
_Tiriyā-raj_, Amazon country, petticoat government.
_Top_, cannon.
_Tope_, plantation.
_Tri-benī_, or _tri-venī_, the junction of the three sacred rivers.
_Tūfān_, a hurricane, a storm of wind whirling round.
_Tulsī_, a plant, basil (ocymum sanctum).
U. V.
_Uchchat tilak_, a religious ceremony, see vol. ii. p. 385.
_Visḥṇu_, the second person of the Hindū triad.
_Ulāk_, a small boat.
_Ummed-wār_, an expectant.
_Voirājī_, or _bairāgī_, a religious mendicant.
_Uplā_, cakes of dried cow-dung.
W.
_Walī-uhd_, heir apparent.
Y.
_Yāk_, the small cow of Thibet.
_Yug_, or _yuga_, an age of the world. The Hindūs reckon four _yugas_, or
ages, since the creation of the present world.
_Yugānt_, the end of the four _yugas_, or ages, when, according to the
Hindūs, a total destruction of the universe takes place.
Z.
_Zaban-i-urdū_, the court language.
_Zāmin_, guarantee.
_Zamīndar_, landlord.
_Zanāna_, or _zenāna_, female apartments, feminine, effeminate.
_Zūl-jana_, the horse of Husain, _i.e._ the winged wolf.
_Zunnār_, the Brahmanical thread.
WANDERINGS OF A PILGRIM.
CHAPTER I.
DEPARTURE FROM ENGLAND.
1822, _April_.—Flying Visit to Switzerland—The good
Ship ‘Marchioness of Ely’—H. M. 16th Lancers—Porto
Santo—Fellow-Passengers—Isle of Palma—Divine
Service—The Band—Quadrilles—The first Shark—Bristol
Water—Skip-jacks—Prickly heat—Crossing the Line—Amusements on
Board—A Blue Shark—Sucking-Fish—Bonito—Santa Trinidada and
Martin Vas Rocks—The Albatross—Thoughts of Home—A Calm—Shooting
Season on the Ocean—Three Days of Battue—Whale-Shooting—A deep
Calm—Scarcity of Water—Anchored at Carnicobar.
In April, 1822, Monsieur mon mari took me to Switzerland. For the first
time, I quitted England. How beautiful was the Valley of Chamouni! how
delightful our expedition on the La Flegère! The guides pronounced it
too early in the year to attempt the ascent of Mont Blanc. We quitted
the valley with regret, and returned to Geneva: but our plans were
frustrated, and our hopes disappointed; for, on reaching the hotel, we
found a letter requiring our instant return to England. The ‘Marchioness
of Ely,’ in which we had taken our passage to Bengal, was reported to
be ready to sail in a few days: no time was to be lost; we started
immediately, travelled night and day incessantly, and arrived, greatly
harassed, in town. The illness brought on by the over-fatigue of that
journey never quitted me for years. The vessel, however, was merely
preparing for her departure, and did not sail until long after.
Happily the pain of separation from the beloved home of my childhood was
broken by the necessity of exertion in preparation for the voyage.
_June 13th._—We went to Gravesend, to see the ship: it was scarcely
possible to enter our destined abode, the larboard stern cabin; so full
was it to overflowing—boxes of clothes, hampers of soda water, crates
of china and glass—a marvellous confusion! After a time the hampers and
boxes were carried below, the furniture cleated and lashed, and some sort
of order was established.
We had carefully selected a ship that was not to carry troops: we now
found the ‘Ely’ had been taken up to convey four troops of H. M. 16th
Lancers; the remainder of the regiment was to sail in the ‘General
Hewitt.’ Some of our fellow-passengers were on board on the same errand
as ourselves.
_June 18th._—We had lingered with our friends, and had deferred the sad
farewell until the last moment: half uncertain if we should be in time
to catch the ship in the Downs, we posted to Deal, took refuge at the
‘Three Kings,’ and had the satisfaction of watching the ‘Marchioness of
Ely,’ and the ‘Winchelsea’ her companion, as they bore down. At 11 P.M.
we went on board, and sailed the next day. There was such a glorious
confusion on deck, that those who were novices in military and naval
affairs might deem, as they gazed around, it could never subside into any
thing approaching order. Every one, however, was saying it would be very
different when the ship was at sea; of which, indeed, there was little
doubt, for to go on as we were would have been impossible. Off the Isle
of Wight the pilot left us to our captain’s guidance; the breeze was
favourable; we were sailing so smoothly, there was scarcely any motion.
The last farewell tears dropped as I passed the Needles and the coast of
Hampshire, whilst memory recalled the happy days I had spent there, and
in the Forest, the beautiful Forest!
Such thoughts and feelings it was necessary to throw aside. I joined the
party in the cuddy, scrutinized the strange faces, and retired to my
cabin, with as solitary a feeling as if my husband and I had been exiles
for ever.
The voyage began prosperously; I was satisfied with the captain, with my
cabin, with my servant, and happy with my lord and master.
We regretted we had taken our passage in a ship full of troops, and
anticipated we should be debarred taking exercise on the quarter-deck,
and enjoying ourselves with walk and talk during the fine moonlight
nights. In the ‘Ely’ it appeared as if it would be impossible; were you
to attempt it, you would be sure to blunder over some sleeping Lancer.
However, the band was on board—some small consolation; and as the society
was large, there was more chance of entertainment.
_July 1st._—Porto Santo looked beautiful, its head enveloped in clouds.
The rocky island rises boldly out of the sea; its mountains are very
picturesque. The sight of land and white châteaux was quite charming.
I now began to recover from the _maladie de mer_, and to regain my usual
good spirits. Creatures of habit, we soon grew accustomed to the small
space. The stem cabin, twelve feet by ten, at first sight appeared most
extremely inconvenient; but now it seemed to have enlarged itself, and
we were more comfortable. Still sleep would scarcely visit me, until a
swinging cot was procured. From that time I slept calmly and quietly,
whatever pranks the old ‘Ely’ might choose to play.
The comfort or discomfort of a voyage greatly depends upon your
fellow-passengers. In this respect we were most fortunate; one-half the
officers of the 16th Lancers were in the ‘Ely.’ The old 16th to me were
friends; my father, who had been many years in the regiment, was forced
to quit it, in consequence of a severe wound he received in action in the
Pays Bas, under the command of the Duke of York. My uncle had commanded
the gallant regiment in Spain, and other relatives had also been many
years with the regiment. Chance had thrown us amongst friends.
Perhaps no friendships are stronger than those formed on board ship,
where the tempers and dispositions are so much set forth in their true
colours.
_July 4th._—We passed the Isle of Palma; it looked beautiful, rising
abruptly from the sea; the trees appeared fine and numerous. We are in
the trade winds, going generally about eight knots an hour; the evenings
are delicious; little or no dew falls so far from land; in the evening we
sit on deck, and enjoy the breeze. The moon is reflected so beautifully
on the waves, the nights are so warm, the air so pure, the climate so
agreeable, I could willingly turn canary bird, and take up my residence
in this latitude.
Sometimes quadrilles are danced by the light of the moon; sometimes by
the glare of half-a-dozen lanterns. There is little or no motion in the
vessel; no events occur; yes—let me not forget—a little boy fell into
the pea-soup and got a ducking; luckily for him, it was nearly cold.
“The misfortunes of the stable fall on the head of the monkey[8].” The
deck presents a curious assemblage: Lancers at extension exercise, women
working, sailors hauling, children at school, ladies reading or talking
in groups—altogether an amusing scene.
On Sundays Divine service is performed; the psalms are sung in very
good style, accompanied by the Lancer band. The weather is hot; the
thermometer 79° in our cabin, 81° in the cuddy, which at dinner-time
contains six-and-thirty people. To-day a shark was caught; it was
attended by three pilot fish, which, they say, guide the shark to its
prey. These small fish are very pretty, and striped like zebras. The
shark was hooked and dragged up by the stern windows; he struggled
manfully, but was soon despatched.
A little flying-fish flew into one of the ports to escape the pursuit of
a larger fish; it was small and curious, but not so pretty as one would
imagine. Two large fins spread out on its sides, like wings. It was a
novelty to most of the passengers.
_July 22nd._—What a strange, bustling life! This is baggage-day; all the
trunks are on deck—such a confusion! I am suffering from _maladie de
mer_; the wind is contrary; we tack and veer most tiresomely; the ship
pitches; we cling about like cats, and are at our wits’ end, striving to
endure our miseries with patience.
The Bristol water is invaluable, the ship water very black, and it smells
vilely. I knew not before the value of good water; and, were it not for
the shower bath, should be apt to wish myself where Truth is—at the
bottom of a well.
Yesterday such a noise arose on deck, it brought me to the scene of
action in a minute: “Come here! come here! look! look! There they go,
like a pack of hounds in full cry!” I did come, and I did look; and there
were some hundred of skip-jacks leaping out of the water, and following
each other with great rapidity across the head of the ship. When many
fish leaped up together, there was such laughing, shouting, pointing, and
gazing, from four hundred full-grown people, it was absurd to see how
much amusement the poor fish occasioned. I looked alternately at the fish
and the people, and laughed at both.
A kind of rash teases me; in these latitudes they call it prickly heat,
vow you cannot be healthy without it, and affirm that every one ought to
be glad to have it. So am not I.
Having beaten about the line for a fortnight, with a contrary wind, at
length we entertained hopes of crossing it, and letters were received
on board from Neptune and Amphitrite, requesting to be supplied with
clothes, having lost their own in a gale of wind.
_July 30th._—Neptune and his lady came on board to acquaint the captain
they would visit him in form the next day. The captain wished the god
good night, when instantly the deck was deluged with showers of water
from the main-top, while a flaming tar-barrel was thrown overboard, in
which Neptune was supposed to have vanished in flame and water.
_July 31st._—At 9 A.M. the private soldiers who were not to be shaved
were stationed on the poop with their wives; on the quarter-deck
the officers and ladies awaited the arrival of the ocean-god.
First in procession marched the band, playing “God save the King;”
several grotesque figures followed; then came the car of Neptune—a
gun-carriage—with such a creature for a coachman! The carriage was drawn
by six half-naked seamen, painted to represent Tritons, who were chained
to the vehicle. We beheld the monarch and his bride, seated in the car,
with a lovely girl, whom he called his tender offspring. These ladies
were represented by the most brawny, muscular, ugly and powerful fellows
in the ship; the letters requesting female attire having procured an
abundance of finery. The boatswain’s mate, a powerful man, naked to the
waist, with a pasteboard crown upon his head and his speaking-trumpet in
his hand, who represented Neptune, descended from his car, and offered
the captain two fowls as tropical birds, and a salted fish on the end of
a trident, lamenting that the late boisterous weather had prevented his
bringing any fresh. A doctor, a barber with a notched razor, a sea-bear
and its keeper, closed the procession.
Re-ascending the car, they took their station in front of the poop, and
a rope was drawn across the deck to represent the line. Neptune then
summoned the colonel-commandant of the Lancers to his presence, who
informed him he had before entered his dominions. The major was then
conducted, by a fellow calling himself a constable, to the foot of the
car: he went up, expecting to be shaved, but the sea god desired him to
present his wife to Amphitrite. After the introduction they were both
dismissed.
My husband and myself were then summoned: he pleaded having crossed the
line before. Neptune said that would not avail, as his lady had entered
the small latitudes for the first time. After a laughable discussion,
of to be shaved or not to be shaved, we were allowed to retire. The
remainder of the passengers were summoned in turn. The sentence of
shaving was passed upon all who had not crossed the line, but not carried
into execution on the officers of the ship. The crew were shaved and
ducked in form, and in all good humour. In the mean time the fire-engine
drenched every body on deck, and the officers and passengers amused
themselves for hours throwing water over each other from buckets. Imagine
four hundred people ducking one another, and you may have some idea of
the frolic. In the evening the sailors danced, sang, recited verses,
and spliced the main brace[9], until very late, and the day ended as
jovially as it began. Several times they charmed us with an appropriate
song, roared at the utmost pitch of their stentorian lungs, to the tune
of “There’s na luck about the house.”
“We’ll lather away, and shave away,
And lather away so fine,
We always have a shaving day
Whenever we cross the line.”
With sorrow I confess to having forgotten the remainder of the ditty,
which ended—
“There’s nothing half so sweet in life
As crossing of the line.”
“Rule Britannia,” with a subscription for the ruler of the seas, was
the finale, leaving every one perfectly satisfied with his portion of
salt water. It was agreed the rites and ceremonies had never been better
performed or with greater good humour.
Colonel Luard’s beautiful and faithful sketches have since been presented
to the public. Watching his ready pencil, as it portrayed the passing
scene, was one of the pleasures of the ‘Ely;’ and I feel greatly obliged
to him for having given me permission to add copies of some of his
original sketches to my journal.
Neptune was accompanied on board by a flying-fish that came in at one
of the ports, perhaps to escape from an albicore: a lucky omen. The
gentlemen amuse themselves with firing at the albatross, as they fly
round and round the vessel; as yet, no damage has been done—the great
birds shake their thick plumage, and laugh at the shot.
The favourite game is pitch-and-toss for dollars. Boxing is another
method of spending time. Chess and backgammon-boards are in high request;
when the evenings are not calm enough for a quadrille or a waltz on
deck, the passengers retire to the cuddy, to whist or blind hookey, and
dollars are brought to table in cases that formerly contained Gamble’s
most excellent portable soup! On the very general introduction of
caoutchouc into every department of the arts and sciences, some of the
principal ship-builders proposed to form the keels of their vessels
of indian-rubber, but abandoned the project apprehending the _entire
effacement of the equinoctial line_.
_Aug. 1st._—Caught a bonito and a sea-scorpion; the latter was of a
beautiful purple colour, the under part white: also a nautilus and a blue
shark; in the latter were four-and-twenty young ones. The shark measured
seven feet; its young from twelve to fourteen inches. The colour of the
back was blue, of the belly white; several sucking-fish were upon the
monster, of which some were lost in hauling him on board: one of those
caught measured nine inches and a half; it stuck firmly to my hand in an
instant.
Our amusements concluded with viewing an eclipse of the moon.
A stiff gale split the mainsail and blew the foretop and mizentop sails
to pieces: no further damage was sustained. I enjoyed the sight of the
fine waves that tossed the vessel as if she were a cockle-shell.
We caught two Cape pigeons, very beautiful birds; the moment they were
brought on deck they suffered extremely from _maladie de mer_!
_Aug. 11th._—During Divine service we came in sight of San Trinidada and
Martin Vas Rocks; the former distant twelve miles, the latter thirty.
_Aug. 16th._—Lat. 27° S., long. 19° W.—The annexed lithograph is from an
original drawing of Colonel Luard’s, and the following extract from his
“Views in India:”—
“This drawing represents the numerous birds that constantly follow ships
from lat. 27° S. to lat. 40° S., constantly hovering about the ship, and
picking up anything eatable which may be thrown overboard. The pintado,
or Cape pigeon, a very pretty bird, black and white striped all over,
is the most numerous. They fly backwards and forwards across the ship’s
wake, in such numbers and so carelessly, that they are frequently caught
by entangling their wings in lines thrown over the stern of the ship to
catch the albatross. This immense bird is also portrayed in the drawing,
whose astonishing power, fierceness, and fleetness, render him formidable
amongst the feathered tribe of these regions. There is an instance on
record of a man having fallen overboard from a ship-of-war, when a
noble-minded midshipman instantly jumped overboard, and, from his power
as a swimmer, would probably have rescued the sailor from a watery grave,
had not an albatross passing at the moment stooped upon the generous
youth, and struck him upon the head: he sank to rise no more! Both he and
the sailor were drowned.”
[Illustration: S. LAT: 27°. W. LONG: 19°.
On Stone by Major Parlby. From an Original Drawing by Colˡ Luard.]
_Aug. 23rd._—There is a ship alongside! a ship bound for England! it
speaks of home and the beloved ones, and although I am as happy as
possible, my heart still turns to those who have heretofore been all and
everything to me, with a warmth of affection at once delightful and very
painful.
_Aug. 27th._—Lat. 32° 9′ S., long. 4° 25′ E.—A dead calm! give me any day
a storm and a half in preference! It was so miserable—a long heavy swell,
without a ripple on the waves; the ship rolled from side to side without
advancing one inch; she groaned in all her timbers: the old ‘Marchioness’
appeared to suffer and be as miserable as myself. The calm continued the
next day, and the rolling also; the captain kindly allowed the jolly-boat
to be lowered, in which some of the Lancers and my husband went out
shooting.
This day, the 28th of August, was the commencement of the shooting
season: game was in abundance, and they sought it over the long heavy
swell of the glasslike and unrippled sea. The sportsmen returned with
forty head of game: in this number was an albatross, measuring nine feet
from the tip of one wing to that of the other; a Cape hen, a sea-swallow,
with several pintado and other birds.
When the boat returned, it brought good fortune; the wind instantly
sprang up, and we went on our way rejoicing. This day a whale was seen at
a distance; if it had approached the vessel, a captain of the Lancers had
prepared a Congreve rocket for its acceptance.
_Sept. 1st._—We spoke a Dutchman off the Cape, looking in a very pitiable
condition: the same gale which had damaged her overtook us, and blew
heavily and disagreeably for three days. The weather was very cold and
wet, and we felt disappointed at not touching at the Cape.
_Sept. 10th._—Lat. 36° 43′ S., lon. 45° 30′ W., ther. 64°.—Another calm,
and another battue: the gentlemen returned from the watery plain with
great éclat, bringing seven albatross, thirty pintados, a Cape hen, and
two garnets. One of the albatross, which was stuffed for me, measured
fifty-three inches from head to tail, and nine feet ten inches across the
wings.
_Sept. 20th._—In the evening we passed St. Paul’s and Amsterdam, but
the haziness of the weather prevented our seeing them. This, the most
southerly point of our voyage, was also the coldest. The cold was really
painful.
_Sept. 23._—A _school_[10] of twenty or thirty whales passed near
the ship; it was almost a calm; they were constantly on the surface,
frolicking and spouting away. They were, the sailors said, of the
spermaceti order, which are smaller in size, and do not spout so high as
the larger race. I was disappointed. Two of the officers of the Lancers
rowed within ten yards of a large whale, and fired a Congreve rocket into
its body; the whale gave a spring and dived instantly. The rocket would
explode in a few seconds and kill him: a good prize for the first ship
that falls in with the floating carcase. They fired at another, but the
rocket exploded under water and came up smoking to the surface. The boat
returned safely to the ship, but it was rather a nervous affair.
_Sept. 25th._—Another calm allowed of more shooting, and great was the
slaughter of sea game. I must make an extract from Colonel Luard’s work,
speaking of a battle that took place on the 10th:—“The Cape hen was
a large fierce black bird, and only having its wing broken, tried to
bite every person’s legs in the boat. When she was placed on the ship’s
quarter-deck, a small terrier belonging to one of the officers attacked
her, and they fought for some time with uncertain advantage; the bloody
streams from the dog proving the severity of the bird’s bite: at last
the terrier seized his adversary by the throat, when the battle and the
bird’s life ended together. In lat. 4° 13′ S., long. 93° 11′ E., the
thermometer in the sun standing at 130°, and in the shade 97°, two small
birds, in every respect resembling the English swallow, came about the
ship. One of them was caught, and died; the other (probably in hopes of
rejoining its companion) remained with the ship fourteen or fifteen days,
frequently coming into the cabins and roosting there during the night. It
was at last missing; and, not being an aquatic bird, perhaps met a watery
death.”
During the time of the battue on the third day, three sharks were astern;
we caught one that had a young one by her side. When opened on deck, a
family of twenty-four were found, each about twelve or fourteen inches
long; the mother measured seven feet. The shark is said to swallow its
young when in peril, and to disgorge them when the danger has passed. The
curious birds and fish we see relieve the tedium of the voyage.
We now looked impatiently for the end of our passage, and counted the
days like schoolboys expecting their vacation. It was amusing to hear
the various plans the different people on board intended to pursue on
landing—all too English by far for the climate to which they were bound.
The birds were numerous south of the tropics; we saw few within them. The
flying-fish are never found beyond the tropics.
_Oct. 11th._—Lat. 4° 20′ S., long. 93° 11′ E.—The heat was very great;
the vertical sun poured down its sickening rays, the thermometer in the
shade of the coolest cabin 86°; not a breath of air; we felt severely the
sudden change of temperature. The sails flapped against the mast, and we
only made progress seventeen knots in the twenty-four hours! Thus passed
eleven days—the shower bath kept us alive, and our health was better than
when we quitted England. M. mon mari, who was studying Persian, began to
teach me Hindostanee, which afforded me much pleasure.
In spite of the calm there was gaiety on board; the band played
delightfully, our fellow-passengers were agreeable, and the calm evenings
allowed of quadrilles and waltzing on the deck, which was lighted up with
lanterns and decorated with flags.
We spoke the ‘Winchelsea,’ which had quitted the Downs seven days before
us and experienced heavy weather off the Cape: it was some consolation to
have been at sea a shorter time than our companion. But little sickness
was on board; a young private of the Lancers fell overboard, it was
supposed, during a squall, and was lost; he was not even missed until the
next day: a sick Lancer died, and a little child also; they were buried
at sea: the bill of health was uncommonly good. A burial at sea, when
first witnessed, is very solemn and impressive.
We passed an English ship—the Lancer band played “God save the King,”
the vessel answered with three cheers. It was painful to meet a
homeward-bound ship; it reminded me of home, country, and, dearer still,
of friends. The sailors have a superstition, that sharks always follow a
ship when a corpse is on board: the night after the man fell overboard,
the Lancer and the child died; the day they were buried three sharks were
astern. I thought of the sailors’ superstition; no sharks had been seen
alongside for three weeks. The sunsets on and near the line are truly
magnificent, nothing is more glorious—the nights are beautiful, no dew,
no breeze, the stars shining as they do on a frosty night at home, and
we are gasping for a breath of air! A sea-snake about a yard and a half
long was caught—many turtle were seen, but they sank the moment the boat
approached them. A subscription lottery was made; the person whose ticket
bears the date of our arrival at Saugor will win the amount.
_Oct. 22nd._—Becalmed for eighteen days! not as when off the Cape;
there it was cool, with a heavy swell, here there is no motion, the sun
vertical, not a breath of air, the heat excessive. At length a breeze
sprang up, and we began to move: one day during the calm we made seven
knots in the twenty-four hours, and those all the wrong way!
“Day after day, day after day,
We stuck, nor breath nor motion;
As idle as a painted ship
Upon a painted ocean.”
Our voyage advanced very slowly, and the supply of fresh water becoming
scanty, we were all put on short allowance; any thing but agreeable under
so hot a sun. Captain Kay determined to make the land, and water the
ship, and made signals to our companion, the ‘Winchelsea,’ to that effect.
_Oct. 30th._—To our great delight we arrived at, and anchored off,
Carnicobar, one of the Nicobar Islands, lat. 9° 10′ N., long. 92° 56′
E. Boats were immediately sent on shore to a small village, where the
landing was good, and two springs of delicious water were found for the
supply of the ship.
CHAPTER II.
CARNICOBAR.
“A HANDSOME SISTER, WITH A MAT FOR A PETTICOAT[11].”
1822, _October_.—Appearance and Attire of the
Islanders—Canoes—Visit to their Village—Ornaments of the
Natives—Departure from the Island—The Andamans—Anchorage at
Saugor—The Hoogly—Arrival in Calcutta.
The island where we landed was covered to the edge of the sand of the
shore with beautiful trees; scarcely an uncovered or open spot was to
be seen. Off the ship the village appeared to consist of six or eight
enormous bee-hives, erected on poles and surrounded by high trees; among
these, the cocoa-nut, to an English eye, was the most remarkable.
[Illustration: CAR NICOBAR.
_On Stone by Major Parlby. From an original drawing by Col.ˡ J. Luard._]
The ship was soon surrounded by canoes filled with natives; two came
on board. The ladies hastened on deck, but quickly scudded away, not a
little startled at beholding men like Adam when he tasted the forbidden
fruit: they knew not they were naked, and they were not ashamed. I
returned to my cabin. The stem of the vessel was soon encircled by
canoes filled with limes, citrons, oranges, cocoa-nuts, plantains, yams,
eggs, chickens, little pigs, and various kinds of fruit. The sight of
these temptations soon overcame my horror at the want of drapery of
the islanders, and I stood at the port bargaining for what I wished to
obtain until the floor was covered. Our traffic was thus conducted—I
held up an empty jam-pot, and received in return a basket full of
citrons; for two empty phials, a couple of fowls; another couple of
fowls were given in exchange for an empty tin case that held portable
soup; the price of a little pig was sixpence, or an old razor: they
were eager at first for knives, but very capricious in their bargains:
the privates of the Lancers had glutted the market. On my holding up a
clasp-knife, the savage shook his head. I cut off the brass rings from
the window-curtains,—great was the clamour and eagerness to possess
them. On giving a handful to one of the men, he counted them carefully,
and then fitted them on his fingers. The people selected those they
approved, returned the remainder, and gave me fruit in profusion. Even
curtain-rings soon lost their charm—my eye fell on a basket of shells,
the owner refused by signs all my offers—he wanted some novelty: at
length an irresistible temptation was found—an officer of the Lancers cut
off three of the gay buttons from his jacket, and offered them to the
savage, who handed up the shells.
“Figurez-vous,” said the Lancer, “the Carnicobarbarian love of that
fellow, matted with straw and leaves from the waist to the knee, decked
with three Lancer buttons suspended round her neck by a cocoa-nut fibre,
and enraptured with the novelty and beauty of the tout ensemble!!”
The dress, or rather the undress of the men was very simple; a
handkerchief tied round the waist and passed between the limbs so as to
leave the end hanging like a tail: some wore a stripe of plantain-leaf
bound fillet-like round their heads; the necks of the chiefs were
encircled either with silver wire in many rings, or a necklace of cowries.
One of the canoes which came from a distant part of the island was the
most beautiful and picturesque boat I ever saw; it contained twenty-one
men, was paddled with amazing swiftness, and gaily decorated. Of the
canoes, some were so narrow that they had bamboo outriggers to prevent
their upsetting. The natives appeared an honest, inoffensive race, and
were much pleased with the strangers. After dinner it was proposed to go
on shore in the cool of the evening: the unmarried ladies remained on
board. I could not resist a run on a savage island, and longed to see
the women, and know how they were treated. Really the dark colour of
the people serves very well as dress, if you are not determined to be
critical. On landing, I was surrounded by women chattering and staring;
one pulled my bonnet, but above all things they were charmed with my
black silk apron; they greatly admired, and took it in their hands. They
spoke a few words of English, and shook hands with me, saying, “How do?
how do?” and when they wished to purchase my apron they seized it rather
roughly, saying, “You buy? you buy?” meaning, Will you sell it? they were
kind after the mode Nicobar.
The natives are of low stature, their faces ugly, but good-humoured;
they are beautifully formed, reminding one of ancient statues; their
carriage is perfectly erect. A piece of cloth is tied round the waists
of the women, which reaches to the knee. Some women were hideous: of one
the head was entirely shaved, excepting where a black lock was left over
either ear, of which the lobes were depressed, stretched out, and cut
into long slips, so that they might be ornamented with bits of coloured
wood that were inserted. She had the elephantiasis, and her limbs were
swollen to the size of her waist. They are very idle; in fact, there
appears no necessity for exertion—fruits of all sorts grow wild, pigs
are plentiful, and poultry abundant. Tobacco was much esteemed. Silver
they prized very much, and called coin of all sorts and sizes dollars—a
sixpence or a half-crown were dollars. The only apparent use they have
for silver is to beat it out into thick wire, which they form into spiral
rings by twisting it several times round the finger. Rings are worn
on the first and also on the _middle_ joint of _every_ finger, and on
the thumb also. Bracelets formed after the same fashion wind from the
wrist half-way up the arms. Rings ornament all their toes, and they wear
half-a-dozen anklets. The same silver wire adorns the necks of the more
opulent of the men also. They are copper-coloured, with straight black
hair; their bodies shine from being rubbed with cocoa-nut oil, which
smells very disagreeably. Their huts are particularly well built. Fancy
a great bee-hive beautifully and most carefully thatched, twelve feet
in diameter, raised on poles about five feet from the ground; to the
first story you ascend by a removeable ladder of bamboo; the floor is of
bamboo, and springs under you in walking; the side opposite the entrance
is smoked by a fire: a ladder leads to the attic, where another elastic
floor completes the habitation. They sit or lie on the ground. Making
baskets appears to be their only manufacture.
From constantly chewing the betel-nut, their teeth are stained black,
with a red tinge, which has a hideous effect. I picked up some beautiful
shells on the shore, and bartered with the women for their silver wire
rings.
The colours of my shawl greatly enchanted Lancour, one of their chief
men; he seized it rather roughly, and pushing three fowls, tied by the
legs, into my face, said, “I present, you present.” As I refused to agree
to the exchange, one of the officers interfered, and Lancour drew back
his hand evidently disappointed.
The gentlemen went on shore armed in case of accidents; but the ship
being in sight all was safe. I have since heard that two vessels, which
were wrecked on the island some years afterwards, were plundered, and the
crews murdered.
Many of the most beautiful small birds were shot by the officers. As for
foliage, you can imagine nothing more luxuriant than the trees bending
with fruits and flowers. No quadrupeds were to be seen but dogs and pigs;
there are no wild beasts on the island. They say jackals, alligators, and
crabs are numerous: the natives were anxious the sailors should return
to the ship at night, and as they remained late, the Nicobars came down
armed with a sort of spear; they were cautious of the strangers, but
showed no fear, and told the men to come again the next day. It must be
dangerous for strangers to sleep on shore at night, on account of the
dense fog, so productive of fever.
The scene was beautiful at sunset; the bright tints in the sky contrasted
with the deep hue of the trees; the shore covered with men and boats;
the bee-hive village, and the novelty of the whole. Many of the savages
adorned with European jackets, were strutting about the vainest of the
vain, charmed with their new clothing; Lancour was also adorned with a
cocked-hat! The woman who appeared of the most consideration, perhaps the
queen of the island, wore a red cap shaped like a sugar-loaf, a small
square handkerchief tied over one shoulder, like a monkey mantle, and
a piece of blue cloth round her hips; a necklace of silver wire, with
bracelets, anklets, and rings on the fingers and toes without number. The
pigs proved the most delicate food; they were very small, and fattened on
cocoa-nuts: the poultry was excellent.
The natives make a liquor as intoxicating as gin from the cocoa-nut tree,
by cutting a gash in the bark and collecting the juice in a cocoa-nut
shell, which they suspend below the opening to receive it; it ferments
and is very strong—the taree or toddy of India.
Little did I think it would ever have been my fate to visit such an
uncivilized island, or to shake hands with such queer looking men;
however, we agreed very well, and they were quite pleased to be noticed:
one man, who made us understand he was called Lancour, sat down by my
side, and smoked in my face by way of a compliment. They delight in
tobacco, which they roll up in a leaf, and smoke in form of a cigar. I
cannot refrain from writing about these people, being completely island
struck.
It was of importance to the ‘Winchelsea,’ in which there were a hundred
and twenty on the sick list, to procure fruit and vegetables, as the
scurvy had broken out amongst the crew.
We landed, Oct. 30th, and quitted the island, Nov. 2nd, with a fair wind:
all the passengers on board were in good spirits, and the ship presented
a perfect contrast to the time of the calm.
_Nov. 3rd._—We passed the Andaman Islands, whose inhabitants are
reported to have a fondness for strangers of a nature different to the
Carnicobarbarians,—they are Cannibals!
A steady, pleasant monsoon urged us bravely onwards: a passing squall
caught us, which laid the vessel on her side, carried away the flying
jib, and split the driver into shreds: the next moment it was quite calm.
_7th._—We fell in with the Pilot Schooner, off the Sandheads, the pilot
came on board, bringing Indian newspapers and fresh news.
_10th._—We anchored at Saugor.—Here we bade adieu to our
fellow-passengers, and the old ‘Marchioness of Ely:’ perhaps a more
agreeable voyage was never made, in spite of its duration, nearly five
months.
Our neighbours, in the stern cabin, very excellent people, and ourselves,
no less worthy, hired a decked vessel, and proceeded up the Hoogly; that
night we anchored off Fulta, and enjoyed fine fresh new milk, &c.; the
next tide took us to Budge-Budge by night, and the following morning we
landed at Chandpaul Ghaut, Calcutta.
The Hoogly is a fine river, but the banks are very low; the most
beautiful part, Garden Reach, we passed during the night. The first sight
of the native fishermen in their little dinghees is very remarkable. In
the cold of the early morning, they wrap themselves up in folds of linen,
and have the appearance of men risen from the dead. Many boats passed us
which looked as if
“By skeleton forms the sails were furled,
And the hand that steered was not of this world.”
_13th._—In the course of a few hours after our arrival, a good house
was taken for us, which being sufficiently large to accommodate our
companions, we set up our standards together in Park-street, Chowringhee,
and thus opened our Indian campaign.
CHAPTER III.
LIFE IN INDIA.
“I HAVE SEEN BENGAL: THERE THE TEETH ARE RED AND THE MOUTH IS BLACK[12].”
1822, _November_.—Calcutta—First Impressions—Style
of Indian Houses—Furniture—Mats—Arabs—Departure of
the Marquis of Hastings—Fogs—Christmas-Day—Indian
Servants—The Sircar—Thieves—The Hot
Winds—Pankhās—Fire-flies—North-Westers—The
Foliage—Musquitoes—Elephantiasis—Insects—The Chŭrŭk
Pooja—Religious Mendicants.
The four troops of the 16th Lancers, from the ‘Ely,’ disembarked, and
encamped on the glacis of Fort William; the ‘General Hewitt,’ with the
remainder of the regiment, did not arrive until six weeks afterwards,
having watered at the Cape.
Calcutta has been styled the City of Palaces, and it well deserves the
name. The Government House stands on the Maidān, near the river; the
city, and St. Andrew’s Church, lie behind it; to the left is that part
called Chowringhee, filled with beautiful detached houses, surrounded by
gardens; the verandahs, which generally rise from the basement to the
highest story, give, with their pillars, an air of lightness and beauty
to the buildings, and protecting the dwellings from the sun, render them
agreeable for exercise in the rainy season.
The houses are all stuccoed on the outside, and seem as if built of
stone. The rent of unfurnished houses in Chowringhee is very high; we
gave 325 rupees a month for ours, the larger ones are from 4 to 500 per
month.
The style of an Indian house differs altogether from that of one in
England.
The floors are entirely covered with Indian matting, than which nothing
can be cooler or more agreeable. For a few weeks, in the cold season,
fine Persian carpets, or carpets from Mirzapore are used. The windows
and doors are many; the windows are to the ground, like the French;
and, on the outside, they are also protected by Venetian windows of
the same description. The rooms are large and lofty, and to every
sleeping-apartment a bathing-room is attached. All the rooms open into
one another, with folding-doors, and pankhās are used during the hot
weather. The most beautiful French furniture was to be bought in Calcutta
of M. de Bast, at whose shop marble tables, fine mirrors, and luxurious
couches were in abundance. Very excellent furniture was also to be had
at the Europe shops, made by native workmen under the superintendence
of European cabinet and furniture makers; and furniture of an inferior
description in the native bazaars.
On arriving in Calcutta, I was charmed with the climate; the weather was
delicious; and nothing could exceed the kindness we experienced from our
friends. I thought India a most delightful country, and could I have
gathered around me the dear ones I had left in England, my happiness
would have been complete. The number of servants necessary to an
establishment in India, is most surprising to a person fresh from Europe:
it appeared the commencement of ruin. Their wages are not high, and they
find themselves in food; nevertheless, from their number, the expense is
very great.
THE SIRCAR.
A very useful but expensive person in an establishment is a sircar; the
man attends every morning early to receive orders, he then proceeds to
the bazaars, or to the Europe shops, and brings back for inspection and
approval, furniture, books, dresses, or whatever may have been ordered:
his profit is a heavy per centage on all he purchases for the family.
[Illustration: SIRCAR.
فاني پارکس]
One morning our sircar, in answer to my having observed that the
articles purchased were highly priced, said, “You are my father and my
mother, and I am your poor little child: I have only taken two annas in
the rupee, dustoorie.”
This man’s language was a strong specimen of Eastern hyperbole: one day
he said to me, “You are my mother, and my father, and _my God_!” With
great disgust, I reproved him severely for using such terms, when he
explained, “you are my protector and my support, therefore you are to me
as my God.” The offence was never repeated. The sketch of “the sircar”
is an excellent representation of one in Calcutta: they dress themselves
with the utmost care and most scrupulous neatness in white muslin,
which is worn exactly as represented; and the turban often consists of
twenty-one yards of fine Indian muslin, by fourteen inches in breadth,
most carefully folded and arranged in small plaits; his reed pen is
behind his ear, and the roll of paper in his hand is in readiness for the
orders of the sāhib. The shoes are of common leather; sometimes they wear
them most elaborately embroidered in gold and silver thread and coloured
beads. All men in India wear mustachoes; they look on the bare faces of
the English with amazement and contempt. The sircar is an Hindoo, as
shown by the opening of the vest on _the right_ side, and the white dot,
the mark of his caste, between his eyes.
Dustoorie is an absolute tax. The durwān will turn from the gate the
boxwallas, people who bring articles for sale in boxes, unless he gets
dustoorie for admittance. If the sāhib buy any article, his sirdar-bearer
will demand dustoorie. If the mem sāhiba purchase finery, the ayha must
have her dustoorie—which, of course, is added by the boxwalla to the
price the gentleman is compelled to pay.
Dustoorie is from two to four pice in the rupee; one anna, or one
sixteenth of the rupee is, I imagine, generally taken. But all these
contending interests are abolished, if the sircar purchase the article:
he takes the lion’s share. The servants hold him in great respect, as he
is generally the person who answers for their characters, and places them
in service.
It appeared curious to be surrounded by servants who, with the exception
of the tailor, could not speak one word of English; and I was forced to
learn to speak Hindostanee.
To a griffin, as a new comer is called for the first year, India is a
most interesting country; every thing appears on so vast a scale, and the
novelty is so great.
In _December_, the climate was so delightful, it rendered the country
preferable to any place under the sun; could it always have continued the
same, I should have advised all people to flee unto the East.
My husband gave me a beautiful Arab, Azor by name, but as the Sā’īs
always persisted in calling him Aurora, or a Roarer, we were obliged
to change his name to Rajah. I felt very happy cantering my beautiful
high-caste Arab on the race-course at 6 A.M., or, in the evening, on
the well-watered drive in front of the Government House. Large birds,
called adjutants, stalk about the Maidān in numbers; and on the heads of
the lions that crown the entrance arches to the Government House, you
are sure to see this bird (the hargilla or gigantic crane) in the most
picturesque attitudes, looking as if a part of the building itself.
The arrival of the 16th Lancers, and the approaching departure of the
Governor-general, rendered Calcutta extremely gay. Dinner parties and
fancy balls were numerous; at the latter, the costumes were excellent and
superb.
_Dec. 16th._—The Marquis of Hastings gave a ball at the Government-house,
to the gentlemen of the Civil and Military Services, and the inhabitants
of Calcutta; the variety of costume displayed by Nawābs, Rajahs,
Mahrattas, Greeks, Turks, Armenians, Mussulmāns, and Hindoos, and the gay
attire of the military, rendered it a very interesting spectacle. Going
to the ball was a service of danger, on account of the thickness of one
of those remarkable fogs so common an annoyance during the cold season at
the Presidency. It was impossible to see the road, although the carriage
had lights, and two mashalchees, with torches in their hands, preceded
the horses; but the glare of the mashals, and the shouts of the men,
prevented our meeting with any accident in the dense cloud by which we
were surrounded.
Palanquins were novel objects; the bearers go at a good rate; the pace is
neither walking nor running, it is the amble of the biped, in the style
of the amble taught the native horses, accompanied by a grunting noise
that enables them to keep time. Well-trained bearers do not shake the
pālkee. Bilees, hackeries, and khraunchies, came in also for their share
of wonder.
So few of the gentry in England can afford to keep riding-horses for
their wives and daughters, that I was surprised, on my arrival in
Calcutta, to see almost every lady on horseback; and that not on hired
hacks, but on their own good steeds. My astonishment was great one
morning, on beholding a lady galloping away, on a fiery horse, only three
weeks after her confinement. What nerves the woman must have had!
_Dec. 16th._—The Civil Service, the military, and the inhabitants
of Calcutta, gave a farewell ball to the Marquis and Marchioness of
Hastings, after which the Governor-general quitted India.
On Christmas-day the servants adorned the gateways with hārs, i.e.
chaplets, and garlands of fresh flowers. The bearers and dhobees
brought in trays of fruit, cakes, and sweetmeats, with garlands of
flowers upon them, and requested bakhshish, probably the origin of our
Christmas-boxes. We accepted the sweetmeats, and gave some rupees in
return.
They say that, next to the Chinese, the people of India are the most
dexterous thieves in the world; we kept a durwān, or porter at the gate,
two chaukidārs (watchmen), and the compound (ground surrounding the
house) was encompassed by a high wall.
1823. _Jan. 12th._—There was much talking below amongst the bearers;
during the night the shout of the chaukidārs was frequent, to show they
were on the alert; nevertheless, the next morning a friend, who was
staying with us, found that his desk with gold mohurs and valuables in
it, had been carried off from his room, together with some clothes and
his military cloak. We could not prove the theft, but had reason to
believe it was perpetrated by a khansāmān (head table servant) whom we
had discharged, connived at by the durwān and chaukidārs.
_March 20th._—I have now been four months in India, and my idea of the
climate has altered considerably; the hot winds are blowing; it is very
oppressive; if you go out during the day, I can compare it to nothing but
the hot blast you would receive in your face, were you suddenly to open
the door of an oven.
The evenings are cool and refreshing; we drive out late; and the
moonlight evenings at present are beautiful; when darkness comes on, the
fire-flies illuminate the trees, which appear full of flitting sparks
of fire; these little insects are in swarms; they are very small and
ugly, with a light like the glow-worm’s in the tail, which, as they
fly, appears and suddenly disappears: how beautifully the trees in the
adjoining grounds are illuminated at night, by these little dazzling
sparks of fire!
The first sight of a pankhā is a novelty to a griffin. It is a monstrous
fan, a wooden frame covered with cloth, some ten, twenty, thirty, or
more feet long, suspended from the ceiling of a room, and moved to and
fro by a man outside by means of a rope and pullies, and a hole in the
wall through which the rope passes; the invention is a native one; they
are the greatest luxuries, and are also handsome, some being painted and
gilt, the ropes covered with silk, and so shaped or scooped, as to admit
their vibratory motion without touching the chandeliers, suspended in the
same line with the pankhā, and when at rest, occupying the space scooped
out. In the up country, the pankhā is always pulled during the night over
the chārpāī or bed.
The weather is very uncertain; sometimes _very_ hot, then suddenly comes
a north-wester, blowing open every door in the house, attended with a
deluge of heavy rain, falling straight down in immense drops: the other
evening it was dark as night, the lightning blazed for a second or two,
with the blue sulphureous light you see represented on the stage; the
effect was beautiful; the forked lightning was remarkably strong; I did
not envy the ships in the bay.
The foliage of the trees, so luxuriously beautiful and so novel, is to
me a source of constant admiration. When we girls used to laugh at the
odd trees on the screens, we wronged the Chinese in imagining they were
the productions of fancy; the whole nation was never before accused of
having had a fanciful idea, and those trees were copied from nature,
as I have found from seeing the same in my drives and rides around
Calcutta. The country is quite flat, but the foliage very fine and rich.
The idleness of the natives is excessive; for instance, my ayha will
dress me, after which she will go to her house, eat her dinner, and then
returning, will sleep in one corner of my room on the floor for the whole
day. The bearers also do nothing but eat and sleep, when they are not
pulling the pankhās.
Some of the natives are remarkably handsome, but appear far from being
strong men. It is _impossible_ to do with a few servants, you _must_
have many; their customs and prejudices are inviolable; a servant will
do such and such things, and nothing more. They are great plagues; much
more troublesome than English servants. I knew not before the oppressive
power of the hot winds, and find myself as listless as any Indian
lady is universally considered to be; I can now excuse, what I before
condemned as indolence and want of energy—so much for experience. The
greatest annoyance are the musquito bites; it is almost impossible not to
scratch them, which causes them to inflame, and they are then often very
difficult to cure: they are to me much worse than the heat itself; my
irritable constitution cannot endure them.
The elephantiasis is very common amongst the natives, it causes one or
both legs to swell to an enormous size, making the leg at the ankle as
large as it is above the knee; there are some deplorable objects of this
sort, with legs like those of the elephant—whence the name. Leprosy is
very common; we see lepers continually. The insects are of monstrous
growth, such spiders! and the small-lizards are numerous on the walls of
the rooms, darting out from behind pictures, &c. Curtains are not used in
Calcutta, they would harbour musquitoes, scorpions, and lizards.
THE CHŬRŬK POOJA.
[Illustration: THE CHŬRŬK PŪJĀ
فاني پارکس]
The other day, hearing it was a Burra Din, (day of festival in honour
of the goddess Kālee, whose temple is about a mile and a half from
Calcutta,) I drove down in the evening to Kālee Ghaut, where, had not the
novelty of the scene excited my curiosity, disgust would have made me
sick. Thousands of people were on the road, dressed in all their gayest
attire, to do honour to the festival of the Chŭrŭk Pooja, the swinging
by hooks. Amongst the crowd, the most remarkable objects were several
Voiragee mendicants; their bodies were covered with ashes, their hair
clotted with mud and twisted round their heads; they were naked all but
a shred of cloth. One man had held up both arms over his head until
they had withered and were immoveable, the nails of the clenched fists
had penetrated through the back of the hands, and came out on the other
side like the claws of a bird. To fulfil some vow to Vishnoo this agony
is endured, not as a penance for sin, but as an act of extraordinary
merit. At first the pain must be great, but it ceases as the arms become
benumbed. A man of this description is reckoned remarkably holy, having
perfect dependence upon God for support, being unable, his arms having
become immoveable, to carry food to his mouth or assist himself. Two or
three other mendicants who were present had only one withered arm raised
above their heads. Some Hindoos of low caste, either for their sins or
for money, had cut three or four gashes in the muscular part of the arm,
and through these gashes they kept running a sword, dancing violently all
the time to hideous music; others ran bamboos as thick as three fingers
through the holes in the arm, dancing in the same manner. One man passed
a spit up and down through the holes, another a dagger, and a third had a
skewer through his tongue.
A little further on were three swinging posts erected in this fashion; a
post some thirty feet in height was crossed at the top by a horizontal
bamboo, from one end of which a man was swinging, suspended by a rope,
from the other end another rope was fastened to a horizontal pole below,
which was turned by men running round like horses in a mill. The man
swung in a circle of perhaps thirty feet diameter, supported by four iron
hooks, two through the flesh of his back, and two in that of his chest,
by which, and a small bit of cloth across the breast, he was entirely
supported: he carried a bag in one hand, from which he threw sweetmeats
and flowers to the populace below. Some men swing with four hooks in
the back and four on the chest without any cloth, eight hooks being
considered sufficient to support the body. The man I saw swinging looked
very wild, from the quantity of opium and bengh he had taken to deaden
the sense of pain. Bengh is an intoxicating liquor, which is prepared
with the leaves of the Gánja plant (Cannabis Indica).
Hindoos of the lower castes are very fond of this amusement, accidental
deaths occasioned by it are reckoned about three per cent. Sometimes four
men swing together for half an hour; some in penance for their own sins;
some for those of others, richer men, who reward their deputies and thus
do penance by proxy.
Khraunchies full of nāch girls were there in all their gaily-coloured
dresses and ornaments, as well as a number of respectable men of good
caste.
I was much disgusted, but greatly interested.
Sentries from the Calcutta militia were stationed round the swings to
keep off the crowd.
The men on the mound at the foot of the second swing run round with the
bamboo frame which is connected with the pole, at the summit of which
are the cross bamboos. As they proceed, the four men above swing merrily
on their hooks, scattering flowers and sweetmeats on the people, and
repeating verses and portions of the shāstrs.
CHAPTER IV.
RESIDENCE IN CALCUTTA.
“DEBT IS A MAN’S HUSBAND[13].”
“i.e. A man in debt is always at the mercy of his creditors, as a woman
at her husband’s.”
1823.—Baboo Ramohun Roy—Nāch girls—Children in India—Sickness
in the Fort—The Rains—Vessels for a Voyage on the Ganges—Indian
Fever—Arrival of Lord Amherst—Introduction of Steam-boats on
the Hoogly—Interest of Money in Calcutta—Robberies—Jamh o
Deen, Prince of Mysore—The Doorga Pooja—Images of Clay—the
Races—Chinese Screens—The Dog Crab.
1823, _May_.—The other evening we went to a party given by Ramohun Roy,
a rich Bengallee baboo; the grounds, which are extensive, were well
illuminated, and excellent fireworks displayed.
In various rooms of the house nāch girls were dancing and singing. They
wear a petticoat measuring, on dit, one hundred yards in width, of fine
white or coloured muslin, trimmed with deep borders of gold and silver;
full satin trousers cover the feet; the doputta, or large veil, highly
embroidered, is worn over the head, and various ornaments of native
jewellery adorn the person.
They dance, or rather move in a circle, attitudinizing and making
the small brass bells fastened to their ankles sound in unison with
their movements. Several men attended the women, playing on divers
curiously-shaped native instruments.
The style of singing was curious; at times the tones proceeded finely
from their noses; some of the airs were very pretty; one of the women was
Nickee, the Catalani of the East. Indian jugglers were introduced after
supper, who played various tricks, swallowed swords, and breathed out
fire and smoke. One man stood on his right foot, and putting his left leg
behind his back, hooked his left foot on the top of his right shoulder;
just try the attitude _pour passer le temps_. The house was very
handsomely furnished, everything in European style, with the exception of
the owner.
The children of Europeans in India have a pale sickly hue, even when
they are in the best of health; very different from the chubby brats of
England.
All the Indian fruits appear very large, and a new comer thinks them
inferior in point of flavour to the European; as for the far-famed
mangoes, I was disgusted with them, all those to be had at that time in
Calcutta being stringy, with a strong taste of turpentine.
The fort is spacious and handsome, but very hot from the ramparts that
surround it. The 44th Queen’s have lost three officers by death, nine
more have returned to England on sick certificate, and three hundred of
the privates are in hospital; this in six months! The mortality amongst
the privates has been dreadful, owing, I believe, to the cheapness of
spirituous liquors, and exposure to the sun.
Port or sherry is seldom seen on table, during the hot weather; Madeira
is not much used; Burgundy, Claret, and light French wines are very
rationally preferred.
Where the climate is so oppressive, what are luxuries indeed at home, are
here necessary to health and existence; to walk is impossible, even the
most petty Europe shop-keeper in Calcutta has his buggy, to enable him to
drive out in the cool of the evening.
_June 1st._—This is the first day of the month; the morning has been
_very_ hot, but at this moment the rain is descending, as if the windows
of heaven were again opened to deluge the earth; the thunder rolls
awfully, and the forked lightning is very vivid. I never heard such
peals of thunder in Europe. No one here appears to think about it; all
the houses have conductors, and as the storm cools the air, it is always
welcomed with pleasure by those on shore.
Our friends who are going to Lucnow have hired their boats, an absolute
fleet! I must describe the vessels.
1st. A very fine sixteen-oared pinnace, containing two excellent
cabins, fitted up with glazed and Venetian windows, pankhās, and two
shower-baths. In this vessel our friend, his lady, and their infant, will
be accommodated.
2dly. A dinghee for the cook, and provisions.
3rdly. An immense baggage boat, containing all their furniture.
4thly. A vessel for the washerman, his wife, and the dogs.
5thly. A large boat with horses. 6thly. A ditto. What a number of boats
for one family! The hire of the pinnace is twenty rupees a-day, about
2_l._; the other boats are also very expensive. They will be three or
four months before they arrive at Lucnow; they quitted us the 12th of
June.
I have now become acquainted with the three seasons in India; the cold
weather, the hot winds, and the rains. The last have set in; it is quite
warm; nevertheless, the rains descend in torrents for some hours daily:
pankhās are still necessary.
The natives are curious people; my ayha was very ill yesterday, and in
great pain, she would take no medicine unless from a doctor of her own
caste; brandy was prescribed; she would not take it, said it was very
wicked to drink it, that she would sooner die; therefore I was obliged to
leave her to her fate, and sent her home to her friends; she is a good
and honest servant.
In July, my husband was seized with one of those terrific Indian fevers,
which confined him to his bed about fourteen days; he got up looking very
transparent and ghostlike, and in a state of great debility, from which
he was some time in recovering. Happily, he was saved from a premature
epitaph.
I had great trouble with the servants, with the exception of five of
them; a speech made by the ayha is worthy of record:—“It would be a
great pity if the sāhib should die, for then—we should all lose our
places!”—symptoms of fine feelings!
Lord Amherst arrived, and we attended a party given to those over whom he
had come to reign.
There is much talk here of a passage to India by steam. “Cœlum ipsum
petimus stultitiâ,” which means, “On veut prendre la lune par les
cornes.” Heaven forefend that I should find myself in a steam-boat, in a
fine rolling sea and a brisk gale, off the Cape. I should not hesitate
to give the preference to the twelve hundred ton ship. Some of the old
rich Indians, as they are called at home, will have full opportunity to
try its safety before my time is come. We have, however, established a
steam-boat upon the Hoogly, which goes about four knots against tide;
something prodigious in a river where the tide runs like lightning, and
with tremendous force.
At this time we became anxious for an appointment up the country, at a
cooler and healthier station than Calcutta, far removed from the damp,
low, swampy country of Bengal Proper.
_August 29th._—The Governor-general and Lady Amherst are great favourites
in Calcutta; the latter renders herself particularly agreeable to her
guests at the Government-house. The new Governor-general is so economical
he has discharged a number of servants, quenched a number of lamps; on
dit, he intends to plant potatoes in the park at Barrackpore; people are
so unaccustomed to anything of the sort in India, that all this European
economy produces considerable surprise.
It happens that in India, as in other places, they have an absurd custom
of demanding a certain portion of the precious metals in exchange for
the necessaries and luxuries of life, to procure which, if you have them
not, you are forced to borrow from agents, the richest dogs in Calcutta:
and why? Because, forsooth, they merely require _now_ eight per cent,
(formerly ten) added to which, after your debt reaches a certain amount,
they oblige you to ensure your life, and in this ticklish country the
rate of insurance is very high.
In the third place, which to us is the _argumentum ad hominem_,
many and many are the lives that have been sacrificed, because poor
miserable invalids have been unable from their debts to leave India.
Interest—horrible interest—soon doubles the original sum, and a man is
thus obliged to pay the debt three or four times over, and _after that he
may_ put by a fortune to support him in his native land.
Do not suppose I am _painting_; this is the plain fact, of which almost
every month furnishes an example.
A man on first arrival (a griffin) cannot or will not comprehend that
“one and one make eleven[14].”
_Sept. 7th._—Since our arrival we have been annoyed with constant
robbery in the house. Seventy rupees were stolen one day, and now they
have carried off about eighteen silver covers that are used to put over
tumblers and wine-glasses to keep out the flies; in consequence we have
discharged our Ooriah bearers, who we suspect are the thieves, and have
taken a set of up country men.
_Oct. 1st._—We have had a singular visitor, Shahzadah Zahangeer Zaman
Jamh o Deen Mahomud, Prince of Mysore, the son of Tippoo Sāhib, and one
of the two hostages.
He resides in a house near us, and sent us word he would honour us with
a visit. The next morning he called, and sat two hours. He had studied
English for twelve months. Seeing a bird in a cage, he said, “Pretty bird
that, little yellow bird, what you call?”—“A canary bird.” “Yes, canary
bird, pretty bird, make fine noise, they not _grow here_.” In this style
we conversed, and I thought my visitor would never depart. I was ignorant
of the oriental saying, “Coming is voluntary, but departing depends upon
permission[15];” his _politesse_ made him remain awaiting my permission
for his departure, whilst I was doubting if the visit would ever
terminate. At last he arose, saying, “I take leave now, come _gen_ soon.”
The next day he sent three decanters full of sweetmeats, very like the
hats and caps that used to be given me in my childish days, mixed with
caraway comfits, and accompanied by this note:—
“Some sweetmeats for Missess ⸺ with respectful thanks of P. Jamh o Deen.”
I suppose my visitor Prince Jamh o Deen did not understand the difference
between compliments and thanks. I did not comprehend why the sweetmeats
had been sent, until I was informed it was the custom of the natives to
send some little valueless offering after paying a visit, and that it
would be considered an insult to refuse it.
_13th._—We went to a nāch at the house of a wealthy Baboo during the
festival of the Doorga Pooja or Dasera, held in honour of the goddess
Doorga. The house was a four-sided building, leaving an area in the
middle; on one side of the area was the image of the goddess raised
on a throne, and some Brahmins were in attendance on the steps of the
platform. This image has ten arms, in one of her right hands is a spear
with which she pierced a giant, with one of the left she holds the tail
of a serpent, and the hair of the giant, whose breast the serpent is
biting; her other hands are all stretched behind her head, and are filled
with different instruments of war. Against her right leg leans a lion,
and against her left leg the above giant. In the rooms on one side the
area a handsome supper was laid out, in the European style, supplied by
Messrs. Gunter and Hooper, where ices and French wines were in plenty for
the European guests. In the rooms on the other sides of the square, and
in the area, were groups of nāch women dancing and singing, and crowds
of European and native gentlemen sitting on sofas or on chairs listening
to Hindostanee airs. “The bright half of the month Aswina, the first of
the _Hindu_ lunar year, is peculiarly devoted to Doorga. The first nine
nights are allotted to her decoration; on the sixth she is awakened;
on the seventh she is invited to a bower formed of the leaves of nine
plants, of which the Bilwa[16] is the chief. The seventh, eighth, and
ninth are the great days, on the last of which the victims are immolated
to her honour, and must be killed by one blow only of a sharp sword or
axe. The next day the goddess is reverently dismissed, and her image is
cast into the river, which finishes the festival of the Dasera.
“On the fifteenth day, that of the full moon, her devotees pass the night
in sports and merriment, and games of various sorts: it is unlucky to
sleep; for on this night the fiend Nicumbha led his army against Doorga,
and Lukshmi, the goddess of prosperity, descended, promising wealth to
those who were awake[17].”
A short time before this festival, the Sircars employed in Calcutta
generally return home to enjoy a holiday of some weeks.
Immense sums are expended by the wealthy Baboos during the Doorga Pooja.
_Dec. 2nd._—Would you believe that we sit at this time of the year
without pankhās, with closed windows, and our floors carpeted! In some
houses, fires are adopted. We have not yet come to this, though I
occasionally have found it cold enough to desire one. The mornings are
delightful, and the nights so cold, I sleep under a silk counterpane
quilted with cotton, called a Rezai.
The natives form images in clay; the countenances are excellent; the
eyes, eyelids, and lips move remarkably well; they are very brittle; they
represent servants, fakīrs, and natives of all castes: the best, perhaps,
are to be procured in or near Calcutta; they are attired according to the
fashion of the country, and cost from eight annas to one rupee each.
We are in the midst of our gaieties, balls, plays, and parties, agreeably
varied. Our first meeting (the races) is held during this month; for we
have our Derby, and Oaks, and Riddlesworth. The Riddlesworth is with us a
very interesting race, all the riders being gentlemen, and sometimes ten
or twelve horses starting. From the stand, of a clear morning, there is a
good view of the horses during the whole of their course.
We have just received from China two magnificent screens, of eight panels
each; they are exceedingly handsome, and keep out the glare by day and
the air by night: I think I may say they are magnificent.
Amongst the ornaments of the household, let Crab the terrier be also
mentioned; he is much like unto a tinker’s dog, but is humorous and
good-tempered, plays about, chases cats, and kills rats, not only in the
stable, but house, and serves us in the place of a parvulus Æneas.
CHAPTER V.
RESIDENCE IN CALCUTTA.
1824—Advantages and Disadvantages—Interest never
sleeps—Barrackpore—Cairipoor—The Fakir—The
Menagerie—Hyena—Change of residence to Chowringhee road—Mouse
and Spotted Deer—Bengallee Goats—Lotteries—Trial by Rice—The
Toolsee—Epidemic Fever—Burmese War—Major Sale—Haileybury—The
Hooqŭ—Dr. Kitchener—Death of Lord Byron—Early
Marriages—Pleasures of the Cold Season—Indian Hospitality—Knack
of Fortune-making lost.
_January_, 1824.—The advantages of a residence in Calcutta are these: you
are under the eye of the Government, not likely to be overlooked, and
are ready for any appointment falling vacant; you get the latest news
from England, and have the best medical attendance. On the other hand,
you have to pay high house-rent; the necessary expenses are great; and
the temptations to squander away money in gratifying your fancies more
numerous than in the Mofussil.
A friend, now high in the Civil Service, contracted, on his arrival
here about eighteen years ago, a debt of 15,000 rupees, about 1500_l._
or 1800_l._ Interest was then at twelve per cent. To give security, he
insured his life, which, with his agent’s commission of one per cent,
made the sum total of interest sixteen per cent. After paying the
original debt five times, he hoped his agents upon the last payment would
not suffer the interest to continue accumulating. He received for answer,
“that interest never slept, it was awake night and day;” and he is now
employed in saving enough to settle the balance.
I wish much that those who exclaim against our extravagances here, knew
how essential to a man’s comfort, to his quiet, and to his health it
is, to have every thing good about him—a good house, good furniture,
good carriages, good horses, good wine for his friends, good humour;
good servants and a good quantity of them, good credit, and a good
appointment: they would then be less virulent in their philippics against
oriental extravagance.
_15th._—The Governor-general has a country residence, with a fine park,
at Barrackpore; during the races the Calcutta world assemble there: we
went over for a week; it was delightful to be again in the country. Lady
Amherst rendered the Government-house gay with quadrilles and displays
of fireworks; but I most enjoyed a party we made to see the ruins of an
ancient fort, near Cairipoor, belonging to the Rajah of Burdwan, about
five miles from Barrackpore, and thought them beautiful.
The road was very bad, therefore I quitted the buggy and mounted an
elephant for the first time, feeling half-frightened but very much
pleased. I ascended by a ladder placed against the side of the kneeling
elephant; when he rose up, it was like a house making unto itself legs
and walking therewith.
We went straight across the country, over hedges and ditches, and through
the cultivated fields, the elephant with his great feet crushing down the
corn, which certainly did not “rise elastic from his airy tread.” The
fields are divided by ridges of earth like those in salterns at home;
these ridges are narrow, and in general, to prevent injury to the crops,
the mahout guides the elephant along the ridge: it is curious to observe
how firmly he treads on the narrow raised path.
By the side of the road was a remarkable object:—
“The appearance of a fakir is his petition in itself[18].” In a small
hole in the earth lay a fakir, or religious mendicant; the fragment of a
straw mat was over him, and a bit of cloth covered his loins. He was very
ill and quite helpless, the most worn emaciated being I ever beheld; he
had lain in that hole day and night for five years, and refused to live
in a village; his only comfort, a small fire of charcoal, was kindled
near his head during the night. Having been forcibly deprived of the
property he possessed in the upper provinces, he came to Calcutta to seek
redress, but being unsuccessful, he had, in despair, betaken himself
to that hole in the earth. An old woman was kindling the fire; it is a
marvel the jackals do not put an end to his misery. The natives say, “It
is his pleasure to be there, what can _we_ do?” and they pass on with
their usual indifference: the hole was just big enough for his body, in a
cold swampy soil.
There is a menagerie in the park at Barrackpore, in which are some
remarkably fine tigers and Cheetahs. My ayha requested to be allowed to
go with me, particularly wishing to see an hyena. While she was looking
at the beast, I said, “Why did you wish to see an hyena?” Laughing and
crying hysterically, she answered, “My husband and I were asleep, our
child was between us, an hyena stole the child, and ran off with it
to the jungle; we roused the villagers, who pursued the beast; when
they returned, they brought me half the mangled body of my infant
daughter,—that is why I wished to see an hyena.”
Before we quitted Calcutta, we placed the plate in a large iron treasure
chest. A friend, during his absence from home, having left his plate in
a large oaken chest, clamped with iron, found, on his return, that the
bearers had set fire to the chest to get at the plate, being unable to
open it, and had melted the greater part of the silver!
It appears as if the plan of communicating with India by steam-boats will
not end in smoke: a very large bonus has been voted to the first _regular
company_ who bring it about, and the sum is so considerable, that I have
no doubt some will be bold enough to attempt it.
In Calcutta, as in every place, it is difficult to suit yourself with a
residence. Our first house was very ill defended from the hot winds; the
situation of the second we thought low and swampy, and the cause of fever
in our household. My husband having quitted college, was gazetted to an
appointment in Calcutta, and we again changed our residence for one in
Chowringhee road.
Prince Jamh o Deen, hearing me express a wish to see what was considered
a good nāch, invited me to one. I could not, however, admire the dancing;
some of the airs the women sang were very pretty.
Calcutta was gay in those days, parties numerous at the Government-house,
and dinners and fancy balls amongst the inhabitants.
A friend sent me a mouse deer, which I keep in a cage in the verandah; it
is a curious and most delicate little animal, but not so pretty as the
young pet fawns running about the compound (grounds) with the spotted
deer. The cows’ milk generally sold in Calcutta is poor, that of goats is
principally used: a good Bengallee goat, when in full milk, will give a
quart every morning; they are small-sized, short-legged, and well-bred.
The servants milk the goats near the window of the morning room, and
bring the bowl full and foaming to the breakfast-table.
_Feb. 27th._—My husband put into one of the smaller lotteries in
Calcutta, and won thirteen and a half tickets, each worth 100 rupees: he
sent them to his agents, with the exception of one, which he presented
to me. My ticket came up a prize of 5000 rupees. The next day we bought
a fine high caste grey Arab, whom we called Orelio, and a pair of grey
Persian horses.
_Feb. 28th._—TRIAL BY RICE.—The other day some friends dined with us: my
husband left his watch on the drawing-room table when we went to dinner:
the watch was stolen, the theft was immediately discovered, and we sent
to the police. The moonshee assembled all who were present, took down
their names, and appointed that day seven days for a trial by rice,
unless, during the time, the watch should be restored, stolen property
being often replaced from the dread the natives entertain of the ordeal
by rice. On the appointed day the police moonshee returned, and the
servants, whom he had ordered to appear fasting, were summoned before
him, and by his desire were seated on the ground in a row.
The natives have great faith in the square akbarābādee rupee, which
they prefer to, and use on such occasions in lieu of, the circular
rupee. In the plate entitled “Superstitions of the Natives,” No. 5, is a
representation of this coin.
The moonshee, having soaked 2lbs. weight of rice in cold water, carefully
dried it in the sun: he then weighed rice equal to the weight of the
square rupee in a pair of scales, and, calling one of the servants to
him, made him take a solemn oath that he had not taken the watch, did not
know who had taken it, where it was, or any thing about it or the person
who stole it. When the oath had been taken, the moonshee put the weighed
rice into the man’s hand to hold during the time every servant in the
room was served in like manner. There were thirty-five present. When each
had taken the oath, and received the rice in his hand, they all sat down
on the ground, and a bit of plantain leaf was placed before each person.
The moonshee then said,—
“Some person or persons amongst you have taken a false oath; God is in
the midst of us; let every man put his portion of rice into his mouth,
and having chewed it, let him spit it out upon the plantain leaf before
him; he who is the thief, or knows aught concerning the theft, from his
mouth it shall come forth as dry as it was put in; from the mouths of
those who are innocent, it will come forth wet and well chewed.”
Every man chewed his rice, and spat it out like so much milk and water,
with the exception of three persons, from whose months it came forth as
_dry_ and as fine as powder. Of these men, one had secreted two-thirds of
the rice, hoping to chew the smaller quantity, but all to no purpose; it
came _perfectly dry_ from his mouth, from the effect of fear, although it
was ground to dust. The moonshee said, “Those are the guilty men, one of
them will probably inform against the others;” and he carried them off
to the police. It is a fact, that a person under great alarm will find
it utterly impossible to chew and put forth rice in a moistened state,
whilst one who fears not will find it as impossible to chew and to spit
it out perfectly dry and ground to dust. An harkāra, in the service
of one of our guests, was one of the men whom the moonshee pronounced
guilty; about a fortnight before, a silver saucepan had been stolen from
his master’s house, by one of his own servants. Against another, one
of our own men, we have gained some very suspicious intelligence, and
although we never expect the watch to be restored, we shall get rid of
the thieves. So much for the ordeal by rice, in which I have firm faith.
_May 4th._—The weather is tremendously hot. A gentleman came in
yesterday, and said, “this room is delightful, it is cold as a well;”
we have discovered, however, that it is infested below with rats and
musk-rats, three or four of which my little Scotch terrier kills daily;
the latter make him foam at the mouth with disgust. My little dog Crab,
you are the most delightful Scotch terrier that ever came to seek his
fortune in the East!
Some friends have sent to us for garden-seeds. But, oh! observe
how nature is degenerated in this country—they have sent alone for
vegetable-seeds—the feast of roses being here thought inferior to the
feast of marrowfat peas!
THE TOOLSEE.
An European in Calcutta sees very little of the religious ceremonies of
the Hindoos. Among the most remarkable is the worship of the toolsee,
in honour of a religious female, who requested Vishnoo to allow her to
become his wife. Lukshmee, the goddess of beauty, and wife of Vishnoo,
cursed the woman on account of the pious request she had preferred to
her lord, and changed her into a toolsee plant. Vishnoo, influenced by
his own feelings, and in consideration of the religious austerities long
practised by the enamoured devotee, made her a promise that he would
assume the form of the shalgramŭ, and always continue with her. The
Hindoos, therefore, keep one leaf of the toolsee under and another upon
the shalgramŭ.—See Fig. 5, in the plate entitled “The Thug’s Dice.”
“The sweet basil is known by its two leaves[19].” Throughout a certain
month they suspend a lota (earthen vessel) over the toolsee filled with
water, and let the water drop upon it through a small hole. The Hindoo,
in the sketch “Pooja of the Toolsee,” is engaged in this worship,
perhaps reading the Purana, in which a fable relates the metamorphosis
of the nymph Toolsee into the shrub which has since borne her name.
The whole plant has a purplish hue approaching to _black_, and thence,
perhaps, like the large _black bee_ of this country, it is held sacred to
Krishna, in whose person Vishnoo himself appeared on earth.
[Illustration: PŪJA OF THE TULSĪ.
فاني پارکس]
The Hindoos venerate three kinds of toolsee—the kala (_ocimum sanctum_),
purple-stalked basil; the small-leaved toolsee; and the suffaid toolsee,
white basil or Indian tea. The leaves of the latter are used by those in
India who cannot afford the tea of China; they are highly aromatic. The
Hindoos have faith in their power to cure diseases, and use them with
incantations to dispel the poison of serpents.
This plant is held in estimation by the Mussulmāns as well as the
Hindoos. It is recorded of the prophet that he said: “Hásan and Húsain
are the best young princes of paradise. Verily, Hásan and Húsain are my
two sweet basils in the world.”
At Benares I saw, on the side of the Ganges, a number of pillars hollowed
at the top, in which the Hindoos had deposited earth and had planted the
toolsee; some devotees were walking round these pillars, pouring water on
the sacred plant and making sālām. My bearers at Prag had a toolsee in
front of their house, under a peepul tree; I have seen them continually
make the altar of earth on which it was placed perfectly clean around
it with water and cow-dung; and of an evening they lighted a little
chirāgh (small lamp) before it. If one of these sacred plants die, it
is committed in due form to Gunga-jee: and when a person is brought to
die by the side of the sacred river, a branch of the toolsee, the shrub
goddess, is planted near the dying man’s head.
The shalgramŭ is black, hollow, and nearly round; it is found in the
Gunduk river, and is considered a representation of Vishnoo; each
should have twenty-one marks upon it, similar to those on his body. The
shalgramŭ is the only stone which is naturally divine; all the other
stones worshipped are rendered sacred by incantations.
A pan of water is suspended over this stone during the hottest month in
the year, exactly in the same manner as over the toolsee in the sketch;
and during the same month another pan is placed under the stone, in which
the water is caught, and drunk in the evening as sanctified.
Ward mentions that some persons, when ill, employ a Brahmin to present
single leaves of the toolsee sprinkled with red powder to the shalgramŭ,
repeating incantations. A hundred thousand leaves are sometimes
presented. It is said that the sick gradually recover as each additional
leaf is offered. When a Hindoo is at the point of death, a Brahmin shows
him the marks of the shalgramŭ, of which the sight is supposed to insure
the soul a safe passage to the heaven of Vishnoo. When an Hindoo takes
an oath, he places a sprig of toolsee on a brass lota, filled with the
sacred water of the Ganges, and swears by Gunga-jee[20]. If a small part
of the pebble god be broken, it is committed to the river. I bought
several of these stones from a Brahmin at the great Mela at Prag. I gave
two old Delhi gold mohurs to a native jeweller, to make into an ornament
for the forehead after a native pattern. My jemmadār took the mohurs,
and, rubbing them on a shalgramŭ, gave it to me to keep, in order to
compare the purity of the gold on its return when fashioned, with that of
the red gold I had given the man to melt. In making fine jewellery the
natives put one-fourth alloy; they cannot work gold so impure as that
used by English jewellers, and contemptuously compare it to copper.
In the plate entitled “The Thug’s Dice,” Fig. 6 represents the shalgramŭ,
shalgram, or salagrama; it is a small heavy black circular stone, rather
flattened on one side, with the _cornu Ammonis_ strongly marked upon it.
Fig. 5 is one covered by the leaves of the kala toolsee, purple-stalked
basil.
No. 7 is still heavier, perfectly black and smooth, without any marks.
This was the touchstone, and a little gold still remaining upon it.
“Gold is known by the touchstone, and a man by living with him[21].”
“Some salagrams are perforated in one or more places by worms, or, as
the Hindoos believe, by VISHNŬ in the shape of a reptile; some are
supposed to represent his gracious incarnation, but when they border a
little in colour on the violet they denote a vindictive _avatār_, such
as _Narasinga_, when no man of ordinary nerve dares keep them in his
house. The possessor of a salagrama preserves it in clean cloth; it is
frequently perfumed and bathed; and the water thereby acquiring virtue,
is drunk, and prized for its sin-expelling property.”
The shalgrams, which are in my possession, are of exactly the shape and
size represented in the sketch.
_July 17th._—On this day, having discovered a young friend ill in the
Writer’s Buildings, we brought him to our house. Two days afterwards I
was seized with the fever, from which I did not recover for thirteen
days. My husband nursed me with great care, until he fell ill himself,
and eleven of our servants were laid up with the same disorder.
The people in Calcutta have all had it; I suppose, out of the whole
population, European and native, not two hundred persons have escaped;
and what is singular, it has not occasioned one death amongst the adult.
I was so well and strong—over night we were talking of the best means
of escaping the epidemic—in the morning it came and remained thirty-six
hours, then quitted me; a strong eruption came out, like the measles, and
left me weak and thin. My husband’s fever left him in thirty-six hours,
but he was unable to quit the house for nine days: the rash was the same.
Some faces were covered with spots like those on a leopard’s skin. It was
so prevalent, that the Courts of Justice, the Custom House, the Lottery
Office, and almost every public department in Calcutta, were closed in
consequence of the sickness. In the course of three days, three different
physicians attended me, one after the other having fallen ill. It is
wonderful, that a fever producing so much pain in the head and limbs,
leaving the patient weak, reduced, and covered with a violent eruption,
should have been so harmless; after three weeks, nobody appeared to have
suffered, with the exception of two or three children, whom it attacked
more violently than it did grown-up people, and carried them off.
The politicians at home have anticipated us in reckoning upon the
probability of a Burmese war. We have hitherto been altogether
successful. I saw yesterday a gold and a silver sword, and a very
murderous looking weapon resembling a butcher’s knife, but on a larger
scale. A necklace (so called from its circling the neck, for it was
composed of plates of gold hammered on a silken string), and some little
squab images, gods, perhaps, taken from a chief, whom Major Sale of H.
M. 13th, dispatched in an attack upon a stockade, leaving the chief in
exchange part of the blade of his own sword, which was broken in his
skull by the force of the blow that felled him.
It is an unlucky business: the Company certainly do not require at
present more territory on that side India, and the expense to which
Government is put by this elegant little mill, as Pierce Egan might call
it, is more than the worthies in Leadenhall-street suppose.
I see Lord Hastings is made Civil Governor of Malta! “To what base uses
we may return!” I observe the motion to prevent the necessity of parents
sending their sons to Haileybury has been lost. The grand object of
the students should be the acquisition of the oriental languages; here
nothing else tells.
If a young man gets out of college in three or four months after his
arrival, which, if he crams at college in England, he may easily effect,
he is considered forthwith as a brilliant character, and is sealed with
the seal of genius. Likewise pockets medals and money, and this he may do
without knowing any thing else.
To a person fresh from England, the number of servants attending at table
is remarkable. We had only a small party of eight to dinner yesterday,
including ourselves; three-and-twenty servants were in attendance! Each
gentleman takes his own servant or servants, in number from one to six,
and each lady her attendant or attendants, as it pleases her fancy. The
Hooqŭ was very commonly smoked at that time in Calcutta: before dinner
was finished, every man’s pipe was behind his chair. The tobacco was
generally so well prepared, that the odour was not unpleasant, unless
by chance you sat next to a man from the Mofussil, when the fume of the
spices used by the up country Hooqŭ Bardārs in preparing the tobacco,
rendered it oppressive and disagreeable.
_Sept. 1st._—The fever has quitted Calcutta, and travelled up the country
stage by stage. It was amusing to see, upon your return to the Course,
the whole of the company stamped, like yourself, with the marks of the
leech upon the temples. Its origin has been attributed to many causes,
and it has been called by many names. The gentlemen of the lancet are
greatly divided in their opinions; some attribute it to the want of rain,
others to the scarcity of thunder and lightning this season. There was
an instance of the same general fever prevailing in the time of Warren
Hastings. Not a single instance has been heard of its having proved
mortal to adults.
_Extract from a homeward-bound epistle._
“The cold season is fast approaching, when every one becomes,
_per force_, most amiable. Indeed we are all creatures of a
different order during this delightful time. You in England
cannot fancy the sensible feeling of actual enjoyment our
bodies and minds experience from this exhilarating change. We
live upon the thought of it for months; it must beat the snake
casting his skin. I feel quite invigorated even at _describing_
its effects.
“We both continue excellently well, and persist in defying the
foul cholera and all other tropical maladies. The hot season
has passed, and the rains are setting in, rendering the air
more temperate. We now occasionally enjoy a cool fresh breeze.
A few days since I felt gay enough to fetch a walk in the
evening, and got well ducked for my reward; also an appetite
for dinner. _Apropos_, I rejoice to see that feeding is
assuming the high place among the sciences which was always its
legitimate right.
‘Oh Dick! you may talk of your writing and reading,
Your logic and Greek, but there’s nothing like feeding.’
Dr. Kitchener has borrowed the most erudite and savoury parts
of his two books from the ‘Almanach des Gourmands,’ a work well
worthy of being placed in the hands of the rising generation
as a standard book; I am sure it would be a perfect Kurān for
an English lady. But, alas! in this savage place, _dindon aux
truffes_, _omelette soufflée_, _vol au vent à la financière_,
_coquille de volaille_, _pâté de Strasbourg_, exist but in
name. The thousand temptations which fascinate the eye and
distract the choice in a French _carte à dîner_, rarely, very
rarely appear. The beef of to-day succeeds to the mutton of
yesterday; none of those ‘coruscations of genius, breaking like
lightning from a cloud,’ which must now so frequently illumine
the horizon of the London mahogany. But all is tame and
unvaried, and man remains here comparatively dead to one of the
noblest ends of his creation. I endeavour to struggle against
this lifeless life by anticipating the time when I shall return
to Europe, at the proper gourmand age of forty-five, with a
taste corrected by experience, and a mouth open as day to
melting delicacies.
“_Oct._—We have heard with sorrow of the death of Lord Byron;
the other evening, as we were driving past a Greek chapel on
the banks of the Hoogly, prayers were being offered for the
repose of the soul of the departed. We cannot join with the
yelpers who cry him down on the score of his immorality; the
seed he sowed must have fallen upon a soil villainously bad to
have brought forth nothing but an unprofitable harvest. Mr.
Hunt is publishing a translation of a work capable of producing
more evil than any of his lordship’s—Voltaire’s ‘Dictionnaire
Philosophique’ to wit. What is the correct story about the
Memoirs? Are we to believe the papers?
“The cold weather has now begun. We have weddings and rumours
of weddings. The precipitate manner in which young people woo
and wed is almost ridiculous; the whole affair, in many cases,
taking less than a month. Many young gentlemen become papas
before they have _lawfully_ passed their years of infancy.
Marrying and giving in marriage is, in this country, sharp,
short, and decisive; and where our habits are necessarily so
domestic, it is wonderful how happily the people live together
afterwards.
“_Dec._—The races are beginning, the theatre in high
force, fancy-dress balls and dinner-parties on the tapis,
water-parties to the botanical gardens, and I know not what. My
beautiful Arab carries me delightfully; dove-like, but full of
fire.
“We shake off dull sloth, rise early, and defy the foul fiend.
Many a nail is extracted, by this delightful weather, from our
coffins. Calcutta opens her palaces, and displays hospitality,
after a fashion which far outdoes that of you cold calculating
islanders. And there is such a variety in our pastimes, and the
season is so short,—about four months,—that we have no time to
‘fall asleep in the sameness of splendour.’
“We were glad to hear our friend would not come out to India.
It is a pity that men like him should be sacrificed—and
for what? To procure a bare subsistence; for the knack of
fortune-getting has been long since lost. Show me the man in
these latter days who has made one,—always provided he be no
auctioneer, agent, or other species of leech,—and we will sit
down and soberly endeavour to make one for ourselves.
“A merry Christmas to you, dear friends; may you find it as
great a restorer as we favourites of the sun and minions of the
tropics!”
CHAPTER VI.
RESIDENCE IN CALCUTTA.
1825.—A Day in March—The Furlough and Pension Funds—Bandicote
Rats—The Strand—The Cutting System—Harrow-on-the-Hill—Sickness
in Arracan—The Golden Feet—Arrival of Lord
Combermere—Bhurtpore—La Pucelle—Marsh Fever—Change of Residence
to Middleton Row, Chowringhee—Fogs up to the Second Story—Burrā
Bazār—Seed Pearl.
_January_, 1825.—The cold weather is delightful, and a Persian carpet
pleasant over the Indian matting, but a fire is not required—indeed, few
houses in Calcutta have a fire-place. Ice is sent from Hoogly, and is
procurable in the bazaar during the cold weather; it is preserved in pits
for the hot season.
_March 23rd._—I will describe a day at this time of the year. At 6 A.M.
it is so cold that a good gallop in a cloth habit will just keep you
warm. At 9 A.M.—a fine breeze—very pleasant—windows open—no pankhā.
3 P.M.—Blue linen blinds lowered to keep off the glare of the sunshine,
which is distressing to the eyes; every Venetian shut, the pankhā in full
swing, the very musquitoes asleep on the walls, yourself asleep on a
sofa, not a breath of air—a dead silence around you.
4 P.M.—A heavy thunder-storm, with the rain descending in torrents; you
stop the pankhā, rejoice in the _fraîcheur_, and are only prevented from
taking a walk in the grounds by the falling rain.
5 P.M.—You mount your Arab, and enjoy the coolness for the remainder of
the day;—such is to-day.
_April 11th._—The hot winds are blowing for the first time this year.
We understand that after twenty-five years’ service, and _twenty-two_ of
actual residence in India, we of the Civil Service are to retire upon an
annuity of 1000_l._ a year, for which we are to pay 50,000 rupees, or
about 5000_l._ This, on first appearance, looks well for us and generous
in the Company; but I should like first to know, how many will be able
to serve their full time of bondage? secondly, what the life of a man,
an annuitant, is then worth, who has lingered two and twenty years in a
tropical climate?
_May 9th._—The heat is intense—very oppressive. I dare not go to church
for fear of its bringing on fits, which might disturb the congregation;
you have little idea of the heat of a collection of many assembled in
such a climate—even at home, with all appliances and means to boot for
reducing the temperature, the heat is sickening. You in England imagine a
lady in India has nothing to do. For myself, I superintend the household,
and find it difficult at times to write even letters, there is so much
to which it is necessary to attend. At this moment I would willingly be
quiet, but am continually interrupted. The coachman, making his salām,
“Mem sāhiba, Atlas is very ill, I cannot wait for the sāhib’s return;
I have brought the horse to the door, will you give your orders?” The
durwān (gate-keeper), “Mem Sāhiba, the deer have jumped over the wall,
and have run away.” The sirdar-bearer, “Mem sāhiba, will you advance me
some rupees to make a great feast? My wife is dead.” The mate-bearer then
presented his petition, “Will the mem sāhiba give me a plaister? the rats
have gnawed my fingers and toes.” It is a fact that the lower part of the
house is overrun with enormous rats, they bite the fingers and feet of
the men when they are asleep on the ground.
The other evening I was with my beautiful and charming friend, Mrs. F⸺,
she had put her infant on a mat, where it was quietly sleeping in the
room where we were sitting. The evening darkened, a sharp cry from the
child startled us—a bandicote rat had bitten one of its little feet!
It is reported the Burmese war is nearly finished. I hope it may be true;
it is a horrible sacrifice of human life, a war in such a climate! I
hear much of all the hardships of fighting against the climate endured by
the military, from friends who return to Calcutta on sick leave.
When we arrived in Calcutta the only drive was on the Course, which was
well-watered; a fine broad road has since been made along the side of
the river, about two miles in length; it is a delightful drive in the
evening, close to the ships.
The Course is deserted for the Strand.
_June 25th._—The Furlough and Pension Fund for the Civil Service has been
established; we subscribe four per cent. from our salary, for which we
are allowed by Government six per cent. interest, towards the purchase
of an annuity of 1000_l._ after twenty-five years service. A very strong
inducement this to economy—yet human nature is very contrary.
“J’avois juré d’être sage,
Mais avant peu j’en fus las.
Ah! raison, c’est bien dommage,
Que l’ennui suive tes pas.”
Nevertheless, we will return home as soon as we can.
Our friend Mr. C⸺ is going down to Bulloah, a savage spot, where he is
to make salt; he takes down three couple of hounds to assist him in his
labours.
Provided there is a good bulky dividend at the end of the year upon
India Stock, the holders think the country flourishing in the greatest
security. Every governor who is sent out is told that the principal
thing to be considered is economy. Lord Moira, who had a becoming horror
of such _petitesses_, and who saw the political danger of carrying the
cutting system into practice, in several instances refused to adopt the
measures he was intrusted to execute. Yet India was never in a more
flourishing state; dividends on India Stock never _looked up_ more
cheerfully. Lord Amherst has applied the paring-knife, and much good it
has done;—the military ran riot[22], the civilians were inclined to grow
rusty, and India Bonds were very dismal and _looking down_.
A letter appeared in the Gazette the other day, in which the Harrow boys
were spoken of in an irreverend manner, which elicited the following
answer from the _sāhib_[23]:—
“_To the Editor of the Government Gazette._
“June, 1825.
“SIR,
“In one of your late papers I was much amused by a report of
the proceedings of a ‘Morning at Bow Street,’ during which
the behaviour of the Harrow boys was brought to the notice of
that worthy magistrate, Sir R. Birnie. To suppose that these
young gentlemen are accustomed to parade the streets with
sticks charged with lead, searching for snobs with heads to
correspond, and carrying pistols loaded with the same metal
in their pockets to confer the _coup-de-grâce_ upon these
unfortunates, would be to believe, what
‘Nec pueri credant, nisi qui nondum ære lavantur.’
Excuse Latin, the English proverb is somewhat coarse.
“I recollect the operative artisan Jones: he succeeded an
excellent farrier, who emigrated with Sir Bellingham Graham,
one of our worthies. Unless Jones had in the first instance
made himself obnoxious to the boys, which from W. L.’s account
is more than possible, they would not have interfered with him.
The whole account I know to be sadly exaggerated; you are,
perhaps, an advocate for the publicity of these reports, so
should I be, were they not for the most part so outrageously
_surchargés_. The ‘Gentlemen of the Press’ think truth needs
the aid of foreign ornament, for in this particular instance
neither pistols nor sticks, loaded or unloaded, were seen,
or afterwards discovered to have been in the possession of
the boys, but were gratuitously conferred upon them by the
reporters.
“Shall such fellows as these be allowed to bespatter an
institution which reckons Sir William Jones, Lord Byron, Parr,
and others ‘dear to memory and to fame,’ among her mighty
dead—and Lord Teignmouth, the Marquis of Hastings, Messrs.
Peel, Barry Cornwall, and myself, among her mighty living[24]?
“You will, I know, excuse me. I am by nature modest, even as an
American, but having been hitherto particular as to my society,
if I am to be damned to everlasting fame, it must be in good
company!
“We are so few and far between in this country, that we
cannot form a corps to show our _esprit_, yet even in this
wilderness will I upraise my solitary voice in praise of
Harrow-on-the-Hill.—_Floreat in æternum!_—Hoping that I have
said enough ‘to Harrow up your soul,’
“I am, your’s,
“ONE OF THE OLD SCHOOL.”
“Jungle Mehals.”
_August 6th._—The natives, especially the Hindūs, are dying by hundreds
daily in the damp and marshy part of Calcutta; 410 died in one night of
cholera and fever, both of which are raging fearfully. They sleep in such
swampy places, in the open air, it is only surprising they are not all
carried off. Last month a fever amongst the Europeans was universal, many
died of it; it has disappeared, and Calcutta is tolerably healthy; the
cholera has not attacked the Europeans.
_September 18th._—We now consider ourselves fairly fixed in Calcutta;
the climate agrees with us; and though we hold existence upon a frailer
tenure than those in England, we still hope to see many happy years.
“’Tis in vain to complain, in a melancholy strain,
Of the money we have spent, which will never come again.”
Furlough and the pension must make amends.
The cold season is the only time in which we live, and breathe, and have
our being, the rest of the year is mere “leather and prunella,” and we
“groan and sweat under a weary life.”
But then in Calcutta, we do not die of the blue devils, _ennui_, or from
want of medical attendance, as those do who are far removed; and even the
_maladie du pays_ is relieved by the constant letters and news we receive
from our native land.
The Burmese seem to have adopted the plan of the Russians, and left
their infernal climate to fight their battles; it has done it most
wofully—fever has killed more men than the sword. Our troops are now
waiting for the breaking up of the rains, to recommence operations. It
is supposed that they will meet with little difficulty in making their
way to Amrapūrā, the capital; but if they do, it seems that the king
and his court will not wait for their arrival, but start with their
valuables to the mountains. There has been a sad waste of life and money.
Commissioners have now been appointed. Report says that Sir Archibald
Campbell’s spirit is too bellicose; and the deputation (civil) to Rangoon
is to check his warlike excesses. The company profess that they do not
wish for an extent of territory; so that the present war has been entered
into solely for the purpose of avenging the insults that have been
offered to their arms. I wish most sincerely that they had been contented
with holding what they had, instead of proclaiming war; and probably they
may be of the same opinion. The papers say that a truce has been entered
into with the Burmese, for the purposes of negotiation. Within these few
days we have heard that it has been prolonged, in order that our terms
might be submitted to the Golden Feet. It is to be hoped that they will
not trample upon them, and that this most detestable war, which has cost
so many lives and so much money, may be honourably concluded.
Lord Combermere has determined to proceed immediately to the Upper
Provinces, and to have a fling at Bhurtpore. There is no doubt as to the
event being successful, but the natives have a great conceit about it; it
is another Pucelle, as it has never yet been taken. In Lord Lake’s time,
our troops were three times repulsed; but that is a tale of the times of
old, when these matters were conducted on too small a scale. Now there
is to be a fine park of artillery, fully capable of making an impression
on the heart of this obdurate maiden. It will do much service in taking
the conceit out of these people. They have songs, and even caricatures,
in which Europeans are drawn as craving for mercy under their victorious
swords, to the number of three or four to one Mahratta horseman. It is an
old grudge, and our _sipahīs_ fancy the affair hugely. We took Bhurtpore
last night over the whist-table, by a _coup de main_; I trust we shall
be able to play our cards as well when before it. This will be of a
different nature altogether from the vile Burmese war. Those who fall
will die nobly in battle, not by the host of diseases by which our poor
fellows have been sacrificed at Rangoon and Arracan.
The early marriages which take place in India were brought under my eye
this morning. My ayha being ill, sent another to act for her during her
absence; she is a pretty little woman, aged twenty-five, and has been
married fourteen years!
The sickness in Arracan is dreadful; ship-loads of officers and men are
arriving daily, with shaved heads and white faces, bearing testimony of
the marsh fever, considering themselves most fortunate in having quitted
the country alive.
Imagine living in a straw-shed, exposed to the burning sun and the
torrents of rain that fall in this country; the nights cold, raw, and
wet; the fog arising from the marshes spreading fever in every direction.
Where the sword kills one, the climate carries off an hundred.
_Oct._—Lord Combermere intends to render the cold weather gay with balls
and dinner parties. His staff are quite a relief to the eye, looking so
well dressed, so fresh and European. They express themselves horrified at
beholding the fishy hue of the faces on the Course; wonder how they are
ever to stay at home during the heat of the day, and sigh for gaiety and
variety. Speaking of the ladies in the East, one of them said, “Amongst
the womankind, there are some few worth the trouble of running away with;
but then the exertion would be too much for the hot season; and in the
cold, we shall have something else to think about!”
_Dec. 1st._—We changed our residence for one in Middleton-row,
Chowringhee, having taken a dislike to the house in which we were
residing, from its vicinity to tanks and native huts.
The house has a good ground floor and two stories above, with verandahs
to each; the rent 325 rupees per month; the third story consists of
bed-rooms. The deep fogs in Calcutta rise thick and heavy as high as the
first floor; from the verandah of the second you may look down on the
white fog below your feet, whilst the stars are bright above, and the
atmosphere clear around you. The spotted deer play about the compound,
and the mouse deer runs about my dressing-room, doing infinite mischief.
The Barā bazār, the great mart where shawls are bought, is worth
visiting. It is also interesting to watch the dexterity with which seed
pearls are bored by the natives. This operation being one of difficulty,
they tell me seed pearls are sent from England to be pierced in Calcutta.
CHAPTER VII.
DEPARTURE FROM THE PRESIDENCY.
Fulbertus Sagittarius—Billiards—The Recall of
Lord Amherst—Zenāna of an opulent Hindū—The Death
of Bishop Heber—Affliction in the Family of the
Governor-General—Appointment to Allahabad—Sale of ‘Scamp’—March
up the Country—Dāk Bungalows—Fakīrs en route—The Soane
River—Sassaram—Satīs at Nobutpoor—Benares—Pūjā in a Hindū
Temple—Brāhmanī Bulls—The Minarets—Beetle Wings—Hindū
House—Benares Hackeries—Dāk to Allahabad—Visit to Papamhow.
1826.—Lady Amherst is on horseback at gun-fire; few young women could
endure the exercise she takes. She is an admirable equestrian, and
possesses all the fondness of an Archer for horses. Her ladyship has won
my heart by expressing her admiration of my beautiful Arab. His name
originally was Orelio; but having become such a frisky fool, he has been
rechristened ‘Scamp.’
On the death of Lord Archer, in 1778, she “who knew and loved his
virtues,” inscribed the following sentence on his tomb: “He was the last
male descendant of an ancient and honourable family that came over with
William the Conqueror, and settled in the county of Warwick in the reign
of King Henry the Second, from whom his ancestors obtained the grants of
land in the said county.”
When it was recorded on his monument at Tanworth that Lord Archer was the
last of the male branch of the Archers who came over with the Conqueror,
little did Lady Amherst (then the Hon. Miss Archer) imagine that, in
her future Indian career, she would cross the path of the poor Pilgrim,
the child of one of the noblest and best of men, who through Humphrey
Archer, deceased 1562, is a direct descendant, in the male line, from our
common ancestor, Fulbertus Sagittarius[25].
_March._—Lord Amherst has been recalled, a circumstance we regret. He
has had great difficulties to contend with since his arrival; and now,
just at the moment his troubles are nearly ended, he has been recalled. I
believe his lordship signified to the Home Government his wish to resign.
In a climate so oppressive as this, billiards are a great resource in a
private house; the table keeps one from going to sleep during the heat of
the day, or from visiting Europe shops.
_April 17th._—The perusal of Lady Mary Wortley Montague’s work has
rendered me very anxious to visit a _zenāna_, and to become acquainted
with the ladies of the East. I have now been nearly four years in India,
and have never beheld any women but those in attendance as servants in
European families, the low caste wives of petty shopkeepers, and _nāch_
women.
I was invited to a _nāch_ at the house of an opulent Hindū in Calcutta,
and was much amused with an excellent set of jugglers; their feats with
swords were curious: at the conclusion, the baboo asked me if I should
like to visit his wives and female relatives. He led me before a large
curtain, which having passed I found myself in almost utter darkness:
two females took hold of my hands and led me up a long flight of stairs
to a well-lighted room, where I was received by the wives and relatives.
Two of the ladies were pretty; on beholding their attire I was no longer
surprised that no other men than their husbands were permitted to enter
the zenāna. The dress consisted of one long strip of Benares gauze of
thin texture, with a gold border, passing twice round the limbs, with the
end thrown over the shoulder. The dress was rather transparent, almost
useless as a veil: their necks and arms were covered with jewels. The
complexion of some of the ladies was of a pale mahogany, and some of
the female attendants were of a very dark colour, almost black. Passing
from the lighted room, we entered a dark balcony, in front of which
were fine bamboo screens, impervious to the eye from without, but from
the interior we could look down upon the guests in the hall below, and
distinguish perfectly all that passed. The ladies of the zenāna appeared
to know all the gentlemen by sight, and told me their names. They were
very inquisitive; requested me to point out my husband, inquired how many
children I had, and asked a thousand questions. I was glad to have seen
a zenāna, but much disappointed: the women were not ladylike; but, be it
remembered, it was only at the house of a rich Calcutta native gentleman.
I soon quitted the apartments and the nāch.
The sketch of “a Bengālī woman” represents the style of attire worn by
the ladies of the baboo’s zenāna, with this difference, that the dress of
the woman called a _sārī_ is of muslin, edged with a bright blue border;
it is passed several times round the figure, but the form of the limbs
and the tint of the skin is traced through it: no other attire is worn
beneath the _sārī_; it forms, although in one long piece, a complete
dress, and is a remarkably graceful one. Her nose-ring, ear-rings, and
necklaces are of gold; her armlet of silver; the anklets of the same
metal. A set of _chūrīs_ (bracelets) adorn her arms, below which is a row
of coral, or of cornelian beads. Silver chains are around her waist; her
hands and feet are stained with _hinnā_. She is returning to her home
from the river, with her _gāgri_, a brass vessel filled with water; her
attitude may appear peculiar, but it is natural; by throwing out one hip,
a woman can carry a heavy water-jar with ease. A child is often carried
astride the hip in the same manner; hence the proverb, speaking of a
vicious child, says, “Perched on your hip, he will peck your eyes out.”
The dark line of _surma_ is distinctly seen around her eyes, and a black
dot between the eyebrows.
_April._—We heard, with sorrow, the death of Bishop Heber, from my sister
at Cuddalore, whose house he had just quitted for Trichinopoly; after
preaching twice in one day, he went into a bath, and was there found
dead. It was supposed, that bathing, after the fatigue he had undergone,
sent the blood to the head and occasioned apoplexy.
[Illustration: A BENGALEE WOMAN.
فاني پارکس]
_May 18th._—Killed a scorpion in my bathing-room, a good fat old fellow;
prepared him with arsenical soap, and added him to the collection of
curiosities in my museum.
My Italian master praises me for application: he says, the heat is
killing him, and complains greatly of the want of rain. When I told
him we had had a little during the last two days, he replied, “You are
the favoured of God in Chowringhee, we have had none in Calcutta.” The
natives suffer dreadfully. Cholera and the heat are carrying off three
and sometimes five hundred a day.
An eclipse has produced a change in the weather, and the sickness has
ceased in the bazārs.
_August._—A gloom has been thrown over Calcutta; and Lord Amherst’s
family are in the deepest affliction, caused by the death of Captain
Amherst, which took place a short time ago. His lordship, his son, and
his nephew were seized with fever at the same time; Captain Amherst’s
became typhus, and carried him off. The family have proceeded up
the country. All those who have the pleasure of their acquaintance,
sympathize most deeply in their affliction; they are much respected.
_Oct. 18th._—My husband having received an acting appointment at
Allahabad, we prepared to quit Calcutta. The distance by the river being
eight hundred miles, and by land five hundred, we determined to march up
stage by stage, sending the heavy baggage by water.
On quitting the Presidency, a great part of our furniture, horses,
&c. were sold. I had refused 2000 rupees for my beautiful Arab; but
determined, as economy was the order of the day, to fix his price at
2500. The pair of greys, Atlas and Mercury, carriage-horses, sold for
2200 rupees, 300 less than they cost; they, as well as Scamp, were too
valuable to march up the country. This will give you some idea of the
price of good horses in Calcutta. One morning a note was sent, which I
opened (having received instructions to that effect), requesting to know
if the grey Arab was for sale. I answered it, and mentioned the price.
The gentleman enclosed the amount, 2500 rupees, about 250_l._, in a note
to me, requesting me to keep and ride the horse during the remainder
of my stay in Calcutta, and on my departure to send him to his stables.
For this charming proof of Indian _politesse_, I returned thanks, but
declined the offer. I felt so sorry to part with my beautiful horse, I
could not bear the sight of him when he was no longer my own: it was my
own act; my husband blamed me for having sold a creature in which I took
so much delight, and was not satisfied until he had replaced him by a
milk-white Arab, with a silken mane and long tail. Mootee, the name of my
new acquisition, was very gay at first, not comprehending the petticoat,
but on becoming used to it, carried me most agreeably. A fine Scotch
terrier was given me to bear me company on the journey, but he was stolen
from us ere we quitted Calcutta.
The people in Calcutta abused the Upper Provinces so much, we felt little
inclination to quit the city, although we had applied for an appointment
in the Mufassil. Imagining the march would be very fatiguing, I went on
board several pinnaces; they did not please me; then I crossed the river
to see the first dāk bungalow, and brought back a good account.
_Nov. 22nd._—We quitted Calcutta, crossed the river to the bungalow, on
the New Road, stayed there one day to muster our forces, and commenced
our journey the next.
Our marching establishment consisted of two good mares for the Stanhope,
two fine saddle Arabs for ourselves, two ponies, and nine hackeries,
which contained supplies and clothes, also a number of goats, and two
Arabs, which we had taken charge of for a friend. We travelled by the
Grand Military road, riding the first part of the stage, and finishing it
in the buggy.
_30th._—I now write from Bancoorah, some hundred miles from the
Presidency. Thus far we have proceeded into the bowels of the Mufassil
very much to our satisfaction. The change of air, and change of scene,
have wrought wonders in us both. My husband has never felt so well in
health or so _désennuyé_ since he left England. I am as strong as a Diana
Vernon, and ride my eight or ten miles before breakfast without fatigue.
We have still some four hundred miles to march; but the country is to
improve daily, and when we arrive at the hills, I hear we are to be
carried back, in imagination, to the highlands of Scotland. I have never
been there; _n’importe_, I can fancy as well as others. We rejoiced in
having passed Bengal Proper, the first one hundred miles; the country
was extremely flat, and, for the greater part, under water, said water
being stagnant: the road was raised of mud, high enough to keep it above
the swamp; a disagreeable road on a fly-away horse like my new purchase;
low, marshy fields of paddy (rice) were on either side: sometimes we came
to a bridge, surrounded by water, so that instead of being able to cross
it, you had to ford the nullah (stream) lower down. No marvel, Calcutta
is unhealthy, and that fevers prevail there; the wind flowing over these
marshes must be charged with malaria.
Bancoorah has a bad name. It is remarkable that almost all the horses
that are any time at the station, go weak in the loins.
_Dec. 2nd._—We reached Rogonautpoor, a very pretty spot, where there
are some peculiar hills. Here we found Sir A. B⸺ and his daughters; we
accompanied them in a ramble over the hills in the evening. Sir A. took
his Sipahee guard with him, having heard the hills were infested with
bears, but we found none.
At Chass, quail and partridge, snipe and pigeons, were abundant. I
generally accompanied my husband on his sporting expeditions in the
evening, either on foot or on a pony, and enjoyed it very much.
At Hazāree Bāgh I became possessed of the first pellet bow I had seen,
and found it difficult to use. We travelled from bungalow to bungalow.
They are built by government, and are all on the same plan; at each a
khidmutgar and a bearer are in attendance. At Khutkumsandy we were on the
hills. Partridges were in plenty by the nālā.
At one of the stages the bearer of the dāk bungalow stole a large silver
spoon off the breakfast-table. Happening, from his defending himself with
great vehemence, to suspect him of the theft, we sent for the police, to
whom he confessed he had hidden the spoon in the thatch of his own house.
They carried him on a prisoner.
The country from this place, through Ranachitty to Dunghye, is most
beautiful; fine hills, from the tops of which you have a noble and
extensive view. Sometimes I was reminded of my own dear forest, which in
parts it much resembles. The weak Calcutta bullocks finding it hard work,
we were obliged to hire six more hackeries. We rode the whole of this
stage. The road was too bad, and the hills too steep, for the buggy; but
as it was nearly shaded the whole distance by high trees, the heat of the
sun did not affect us. Tigers are found in this pass; and when Mootee my
Arab snorted, and drew back apparently alarmed, I expected a _sortie_
from the jungle. At this stage a horse ran away in a buggy, alarmed by a
bear sleeping in the road.
At the Dunghye bungalow some travellers had been extremely poetical:
“Dunghye! Dunghye! with hills so high,
A sorry place art thou;
Thou boasts not e’en a blade of grass,
Enough to feed an hungry ass,
Or e’en a half-starved cow.”
Nevertheless, we saw fine jungle and grass in plenty on every side, and
were told partridge and jungle fowl were abundant.
_En route_ were several parties of fakirs, who said they were going to
Jugunnath. These rascals had some capital tattoos with them. Several
of these men had one withered arm raised straight, with the long nails
growing through the back of the hand. These people are said to be great
thieves; and when any of them were encamped near us on the march, we
directed the chaukidārs (watchmen) to keep a good look out, on our horses
as well as our chattels. The adage says of the fakir, “Externally he is a
saint, but internally a devil[26].”
At Sherghattee we delivered the stealer of the spoon over to the
magistrate. In the evening I went out with the gentlemen on an elephant;
they had some sport with their guns.
At Baroon we bought some uncut Soane pebbles, which turned out remarkably
good when cut and polished. We rode across the Soane river, which was
three miles in breadth, and had two large sandbanks in the middle of the
stream. Wading through the water was most troublesome work on horseback.
Twice we were obliged to put the horses into boats, they struggled, and
kicked, and gave so much trouble. The Arab ‘Rajah’ jumped fairly out of
the boat into the stream. The mares worked hard getting the buggy across
the deep sand; they went into and came out of the boats very steadily.
On our arrival at Sahseram, a native gentleman, Shah Kubbeer-oo-deen
Ahmud, called upon us. At tiffin-time he sent us some _ready-dressed_
native dishes; I was much surprised at it, but the natives told me it
was his usual custom. In the evening, some fireworks, sent by the same
gentleman, were displayed, particularly for my amusement. The town is
very ancient, and there are numerous remains of former magnificence
rapidly falling into decay. The tombs are well worth a visit.
_Dec. 23rd._—We arrived at Nobutpoor, a very pretty place. The bungalow
is on a high bank, just above the Curamnassa river. To the right you have
a view of a suspension-bridge, built of bamboo and rope; on the left is a
suttee-ground, to me a most interesting sight. I had heard a great deal
regarding suttees in Calcutta, but had never seen one; here was a spot
to which it was customary to bring the widows to be burned alive, on the
banks of the Curamnassa, a river considered holy by the Hindoos.
In the sketch I took of the place are seven suttee mounds, raised of
earth, one of which is kept in good repair, and there are several more
in the mango tope to the left. The people said, no suttee had taken
place there for twenty years, but that the family who owned the large
mound kept it in repair, and were very proud of the glory reflected on
their house by one of the females having become suttee. A fine stone
bridge had been begun some years before by a Mahratta lady, but was never
finished; the remains are in the river. The touch of its waters is a dire
misfortune to an Hindoo; they carefully cross the suspension-bridge.
The next stage took us to the Mogul Serai; and, some rain having fallen,
we felt the difference between the cold of the up-country and the fogs of
Calcutta.
_Dec. 25th._—Arrived at Benares; and here, again, crossing the Ganges
was a great difficulty. The Arab ‘Rajah’ was so extremely violent in the
boat, that we were obliged to swim him over. At length we reached the
house of a friend in the civil service, and were well pleased to rest
from our labours. Rising and being on horseback by four A.M. daily, is
hard work when continued for a month.
My husband, finding it necessary to reach Allahabad by the 30th, left
me at Benares, to discharge the Calcutta hackeries, to get others, and
to continue my journey. During my stay, our friend took me into the
holy city, and showed me a great deal of what was most remarkable. Long
as I had lived in Calcutta, I had seen very little of native life or
the forms of pooja. The most holy city of Benares is the high place
of superstition. I went into a Hindoo temple in which pooja was being
performed, and thought the organ of gullibility must be very strongly
developed in the Hindoos.
It was the early morning, and before the people went to their daily
avocations, they came to perform worship before the idols. Each man
brought a little vessel of brass, containing oil, another containing
boiled rice, another Ganges’ water and freshly-gathered flowers. Each
worshipper, on coming into the temple, poured his offering on the head
of the idol, and laid the flowers before it; prayed with his face to the
earth, then struck a small bell three times, and departed. The Hindoo
women follow the same custom.
There were numerous uncouth idols in the temple. A black bull and a
white bull, both carved in stone, attracted many worshippers; whilst two
_living_ bulls stood by the side, who were regarded as most holy, and fed
with flowers.
If an Hindoo wishes to perform an act of devotion, he purchases a young
bull without blemish, and presents him to the Brāhmans, who stamp a
particular mark upon him; he is then turned loose, as a Brāhmani bull,
and allowed to roam at pleasure. To kill this animal would be sacrilege.
When they get savage they become very dangerous. The Brāhmani bulls roam
at pleasure through the bazaars, taking a feed whenever they encounter a
grain shop.
We ascended the minarets, and looked down upon the city and the Ganges.
Young men prefer ascending them at early dawn, having then a chance of
seeing the females of some zenāna, who often sleep on the flat roof
of the house, which is surrounded by a high wall. From the height of
the minarets you overlook the walls. I thought of Hadji Baba and the
unfortunate Zeenab, whom he first saw spreading tobacco on the roof to
dry. The shops of the kimkhwāb and turban manufacturers, as also of those
who prepare the silver and gold wire used in the fabric of the brocade
worked in gold and silver flowers, are well worth visiting.
Beetle wings are procurable at Benares, and are used there for
ornamenting kimkhwāb and native dresses. In Calcutta and Madras, they
embroider gowns for European ladies with these wings, edged with gold;
the effect is beautiful. The wings are cheap at Benares, expensive at
other places.
I was carried in a tanjan through Benares. In many parts, in the narrow
streets, I could touch the houses on both sides of the street with my
hands. The houses are from six to seven stories high.
In one of these narrow passages it is not agreeable to meet a Brāhmani
bull. Four armed men, barkandāzes, ran on before the tanjan to clear the
road. I procured a number of the brazen vessels that are used in pooja.
On my return we will have it in grand style; the baby shall represent the
idol, and we will pour oil and flowers over his curly head.
The cattle live on the ground-floor; and to enter a gay Hindoo house, you
must first pass through a place filled with cows and calves; then you
encounter a heavy door, the entrance to a narrow, dark passage; and after
ascending a flight of steps, you arrive at the inhabited part of the
house, which is painted with all sorts of curious devices. I visited one
of these houses; it was furnished, but uninhabited.
The contents of the thirteen small hackeries were stowed away upon four
of the large hackeries of Benares, which started on their march with the
buggy and horses. For myself, a dāk was hired. Our friend drove me the
first stage, and then put me into my palanquin. I overtook the hackeries,
and could not resist getting out and looking into the horses’ tents.
There they were, warm and comfortable, well littered down, with their
sā’īses asleep at their sides; much more comfortable than myself during
the coldness of the night, in the pālkee. The bearers broke open one of
my bahangīs, and stole some articles.
I reached Raj Ghāt early, and crossed the river. The fort, with its long
line of ramparts, washed by the river, and the beauty of a Dhrumsālā,
or Hindoo alms-house, on the opposite bank, under one of the arches of
which was an enormous image of Ganesh, greatly attracted my attention. I
watched the worshippers for some time, and promised myself to return and
sketch it[27].
The carriage of a friend was in waiting at this spot, and took me to
Papamhow, where I rejoined my husband. Notwithstanding the difficulties,
which according to report we expected, we made good progress, and arrived
at Allahabad on the 1st of January, after a very pleasant trip. Indeed,
this short time we agreed was the most approaching to delightful that we
had passed in India; the constant change of scenery, and the country very
beautiful in some parts, with the daily exercise, kept us all, horses
included, in high health and spirits. We travelled at the rate of about
fifteen miles a day, making use of the staging bungalows that have been
erected for the accommodation of travellers, as far as Benares; thence
we travelled by dāk to Prāg, the distance being only ninety miles. So
much for our journey, which, considering our inexperience, I think we
performed with much credit to ourselves.
A friend received us at Papamhow with the utmost kindness, housed and fed
us, and assisted us in arranging our new residence, which, by the bye,
has one great beauty, that of being rent free: no small consideration
where the expense of an unfurnished house is equal to that of a small
income in England. Said house is very prettily situated on the banks of
the Jumna, a little beyond the Fort. We like our new situation, and do
not regret the gaiety of the City of Palaces; indeed, it now appears to
me most wonderful how we could have remained there so long: in climate
there is no comparison, and as to expense, if we can but commence the
good work of economy, we may return on furlough ere long.
The peaceful termination of the war with Ava was one of the happy events
of this year.
CHAPTER VIII.
LIFE IN THE MUFASSIL.
“PLANT A TREE, DIG A WELL, WRITE A BOOK, AND GO TO HEAVEN[28].”
First Visits in the East—Papamhow—Runjeet Singh’s
illness—Death of Lord Hastings—Lord Amherst created Earl of
Arracan—Marriage of a neem to a peepul—The Bacäin—A Koord
Arab—Visit to Lucnow—His Majesty Nusseer-ood-Deen Hyder—Lord
Combermere—Kywan Jah—Presents not allowed to be accepted—Fights
of Wild Beasts—Quail—Departure of Lord Combermere—Skinner’s
Horse—Return to Prāg.
_January 1827._—It is usual in India for those newly arrived to call
upon the resident families of the station; the gentleman makes his call,
which is returned by the resident and his family; after which, the lady
returns the visit with her husband. An invitation is then received to
a dinner-party given in honour of the strangers, the lady being always
handed to dinner by the host, and made the queen of the day, whether or
not entitled to it by rank.
Our _début_ in the Mufassil was at the house of the judge, where we met
almost all the station, and were much pleased that destiny had brought us
to Prāg. Prāg was named Allahabad when the old Hindoo city was conquered
by the Mahomedans. We were very fortunate in bringing up our horses and
baggage uninjured, and in not having been robbed _en route_. Lord Amherst
has lost two horses, and his aide-de-camp three: guards are stationed
around the Governor-general’s horse-tents and baggage night and day,
nevertheless native robbers have carried off those five animals. His
lordship is at present at Lucnow.
We have spent the last three weeks most delightfully at Papamhow. Every
sort of scientific amusement was going forward. Painting in oil and
water colours, sketching from nature, turning, making curious articles
in silver and brass, constructing Æolian harps, amusing ourselves
with archery, trying the rockets on the sands of an evening, chemical
experiments, botany, gardening; in fact, the day was never half long
enough for our employment in the workshop and the grounds.
Papamhow is five miles from our own house, standing on higher ground and
in a better situation, on the Ganges; when we can make holiday, we go up
and stay at _our country house_, as our neighbours call it.
The old moonshee is cutting out my name in the Persian character, on the
bottom of a Burmese idol, to answer as a seal. What an excellent picture
the old man, with his long grey beard, would make! I have caught two
beautiful little squirrels, with bushy tails and three white stripes on
their backs; they run about the table, come to my shoulder, and feed from
my hand.
_May._—Our friend at Papamhow is gunpowder agent to the Government, and
manager of the rocket manufactory; his services are likely to be fully
exerted, as it is reported that Runjeet Singh is not expected to live
four months, being in the last stage of a liver complaint, and that his
son, it is thought, will hoist the standard of rebellion. What gives
foundation for this, is, that Lord Combermere is about to make the tour
of the Upper Provinces, and that a concentration of forces is to take
place on the frontier, under the pretext of a grand military inspection
and review. There is no doubt as to who will go to the wall.
We have just received news of the death of Lord Hastings, and learn from
the same papers, that Lord Amherst has been created an earl, and Lord
Combermere a Viscount.
We have been occupied in planting a small avenue of neem-trees in front
of the house; unlike the air around the tamarind, that near a neem-tree
is reckoned wholesome:—according to the Guzrattee Proverb, we had made
no advance on our heavenward road until the avenue was planted, which
carried us on one-third of the journey. No sooner were the trees in the
ground, than the servants requested to be allowed to marry a neem to
a young peepul-tree (ficus religiosa), which marriage was accordingly
celebrated by planting a peepul and neem together, and entwining their
branches. Some pooja was performed at the same time, which, with
the ceremony of the marriage, was sure to bring good fortune to the
newly-planted avenue.
The neem is a large and beautiful tree, common in most parts of India
(melia azadirachta), or margosa-tree; its flowers are fragrant—a strong
decoction of the leaves is used as a cure for strains.
Oil is prepared from the berry of the neem, (neem cowrie, as they call
it,) which is esteemed excellent, and used as a liniment in violent
headaches brought on by exposure to the sun, and in rheumatic and
spasmodic affections. The flowers are fragrant: any thing remarkably
bitter is compared to the neem-tree; “yeh duwa kŭrwee hy jyse neem:” this
medicine is bitter as neem.
The bacäin, or māhā nimba, (melia sempervirens,) a variety of the
neem-tree, is remarkably beautiful. “The neem-tree will not become sweet
though watered with syrup and clarified butter[29].”
My pearl of the desert, my milk-white Arab, Mootee, is useless; laid
up with an inflammation and swelling in his fore-legs; he looks like a
creature afflicted with elephantiasis—they tell us to keep him cool—we
cannot reduce the heat of the stable below 120°!
I feel the want of daily exercise: here it is very difficult to procure a
good Arab; the native horses are vicious, and utterly unfit for a lady;
and I am too much the spoiled child of my mother to mount an indifferent
horse.
_August 28th._—Last week we made our sālām to the Earl of Arracan and his
lady, who stopped at Allahabad, _en route_, and were graciously received.
The society is good and the station pretty and well-ordered; the roads
the best in India, no small source of gratification to those whose
enjoyment consists in a morning and evening drive: a course is also in
progress, round which we are to gallop next cold weather, when we have,
indeed, the finest of climates, of which you, living in your dusty, damp,
dull, foggy, fuliginous _England_, have no idea.
About the middle of April the hot winds set in, when we are confined to
the house, rendered cool by artificial means; after this come four months
of the rains, generally a very pleasant time; then a pause of a month,
and then the cold weather.
_Sept. 20th._—I have just received a most charming present, a white
Arab, from Koordistān: he is a beautiful creature, and from having been
educated in the tents of the Koords, is as tame as a pet lamb. His colour
grey, his mane long and dark; his long white tail touches his heels;
such a beautiful little head! he looks like a younger brother of Scamp,
the Arab I sold on quitting Calcutta. I hear that when a lady was riding
Scamp the other day, he threw her, and nearly fractured her skull. She
was for some time in danger, but has recovered.
_Oct. 27th._—The weather is now very pleasant, cold mornings and
evenings; the end of next month we hope to begin collecting the ice,
which is quite a business in this country. The next four months will be
delightful; March will bring in the hot weather, and in April we shall be
roasted alive.
_Dec. 31st._—For the last three weeks I have been gadding about the
country, the gayest of the gay. A friend at Lucnow invited me to pay her
a visit, at the time Lord Combermere was to stay at the residency. Having
a great desire to see a native court, and elephant and tiger fights, I
accepted the invitation with pleasure.
Accompanied by an aide-de-camp who was going to see the tamāshā, I
reached Lucnow after a run of three nights. Mr. Mordaunt Ricketts
received me with great kindness; I spent a few days at the residency, and
the rest with my friend.
On the arrival at Lucnow of his excellency the commander-in-chief, the
king of Oude, Nusseer-ood-Deen Hyder, as a compliment to that nobleman,
sent his son, prince Kywan Jah, with the deputation appointed to
receive his lordship, by whom the prince was treated as the walī-uhd, or
heir-apparent.
The first day, Lord Combermere and the resident breakfasted with the king
of Oude; the party was very numerous. We retired afterwards to another
room, where trays of presents were arranged upon the floor, ticketed with
the names of the persons for whom they were intended, and differing in
their number and value according to the rank of the guests. Two trays
were presented to me, the first containing several pairs of Cashmere
shawls, and a pile of India muslin and kimkhwāb, or cloth of gold. The
other tray contained strings of pearl, precious stones, bracelets, and
other beautiful native jewellery. I was desired to make my sālām in honor
of the bounty of his majesty. As soon as the ceremony had finished, the
trays were carried off and placed in the Company’s treasury, an order
having arrived, directing that all presents made to the servants of the
Company should be accepted,—but for the benefit of the state.
That night his majesty dined at the residency, and took his departure
at ten P.M., when quadrilles immediately commenced. The ladies were not
allowed to dance while his majesty was present, as, on one occasion,
he said, “That will do, let them leave off,” thinking the ladies were
quadrilling for his amusement, like nāch women. The second day, the king
breakfasted with Lord Combermere, and we dined at the palace.
During dinner a favourite nāch woman attitudinized a little behind and to
the right of his majesty’s chair; at times he cast an approving glance
at her performance. Sometimes she sang and moved about, and sometimes
she bent her body _backwards_, until her head touched the ground; a
marvellously supple, but not a graceful action.
The mornings were devoted to sports, and quadrilles passed away the
evenings. I saw some very good elephant fights, some indifferent tiger
fights, a rhinoceros against three wild buffaloes, in short, battles of
every sort; some were very cruel, and the poor animals had not fair play.
The best fight was seen after breakfast at the palace. Two battaire
(quails) were placed on the table; a hen bird was put near them; they
set to instantly, and fought valiantly. One of the quails was driven
back by his adversary, until the little bird, who fought every inch of
his forced retreat, fell off the table into my lap. I picked him up and
placed him upon the table again; he flew at his adversary instantly. They
fight, unless separated, until they die. His majesty was delighted with
the amusement. The saying is, “Cocks fight for fighting’s sake, quails
for food, and the Lalls for love.” It appeared to me the quails were
animated by the same passion as the Lalls:
“Deux coqs vivaient en paix: une poule survint,
Et voilà la guerre allumée.
Amour, tu perdis Troie!”
On quitting the presence of his majesty, a harrh, a necklace of silver
and gold tissue, very beautifully made, was placed around the neck of
each of the guests, and atr of roses put on their hands.
The resident having sent me a fine English horse, I used to take my
morning canter, return to cantonments, dress, and drive to the presidency
to breakfast by eight A.M. The horse, a magnificent fellow, had but one
fault,—a trick of walking almost upright on his hind legs. It was a
contest between us; he liked to have his own way, and I was determined to
have mine.
The dinners, balls, and breakfasts were frequent. Lord Combermere was in
high good humour. His visit lasted about eight days, during which time he
was entertained by the resident in Oriental style.
My journey having been delayed for want of bearers for my palanquin
from Cawnpore, I arrived at Lucnow too late to see the ladies of the
royal zenāna. The lady of the resident had been invited to visit their
apartments the day before my arrival. She told me they were very fine, at
least the dopatta (veil) was gay in gold and silver, but the rest of the
attire very dirty. They appeared to have been taken by surprise, as they
were not so highly ornamented as they usually are on a day of parade. I
felt disappointed in being unable to see the begams; they would have
interested me more than the elephant fights, which, of all the sights I
beheld at Lucnow, pleased me the most.
I returned home at the end of December. The resident had the kindness to
give me an escort of Skinner’s horse, to protect my palanquin, and see me
safely out of the kingdom of Oude, as far as Cawnpore, which, being in
the Company’s territories, was considered out of danger; and during the
rest of the journey I was accompanied by two gentlemen.
Colonel Luard thus speaks of Skinner’s horse: “This is a most effective
irregular corps, taking its name from its gallant colonel. An
extraordinary feat is performed with the lance: a tent-peg is driven into
the ground, nearly up to the head; and the lancer, starting at speed some
distance from the peg, passes it on the near side, at his utmost pace,
and, while passing, with considerable force drives his lance into the
tent-peg, allowing the lance instantly to pass through his hand, or the
shock would unhorse him; then, by a dexterous turn of the wrist, forces
the peg out of the ground at the point of his lance, and bears the prize
in triumph over his shoulder.”
In my vanity I had flattered myself dulness would have reigned triumphant
at Prāg; nevertheless, I found my husband had killed the fatted calf, and
“lighted the lamp of ghee[30];” _i.e._ made merry.
I sent a little seal, on which this motto was engraved, “_Toom ghee ka
dhye jalāo_,” to a lady in England, telling her ghee is clarified butter.
When a native gives a feast, he lights a number of small lamps with ghee.
If he say to a friend, “Will you come to my feast?” the answer may be,
“Light thou the lamp of ghee;” which means, “Be you merry, I will be
there.” Therefore, if you accept an invitation, you may use this seal
with propriety.
CHAPTER IX.
RESIDENCE AT ALLAHABAD.
1828.—Sinking a Well—Hurriannah Cows—Delhi Goats—The
Jumnapār—Doomba Sheep—Buffalo Humps—Water-cresses—Marrowfat
Peas—Carrots—The Chatr—The Oleander—The Ice-pits—Cream Ice, how
to freeze—Burdwan Coal—Indian Fevers—Mr. Bayley, Viceroy—Fear
of the Invasion of the Russians and Persians—Intense
Heat—Deaths in the Farm-yard—Chota Jehannum—The Verandah at
Noon—Mad Pariah—Trelawny—Châteaux en Espagne—Height of the two
Rivers—Death of the Bishop of Calcutta—An Hummām—The first
Steamer at Prāg.
_Jan., 1828, Leap Year._—I before mentioned we had accomplished one-third
of our way to heaven, by planting an avenue; we now performed another
portion of the journey, by sinking a well. As soon as the work was
completed, the servants lighted it up with numerous little lamps,
and strewed flowers upon its margin, to bring a blessing upon the
newly-raised water. From Hissar we received six cows and a bull, very
handsome animals, with remarkably fine humps, such as are sold in England
under the denomination of buffalo humps, which are, in reality, the humps
of Indian cows and oxen.
Tame buffaloes are numerous at Prāg. The milk is strong, and not
generally used for making butter, but is made into ghee (clarified
butter), useful for culinary purposes. Some most beautiful Barbary goats
arrived with the cows; they were spotted brown and white or black and
white, and almost as beautiful as deer. The Bengālee goats yield a much
larger portion of milk. I had also a Jumnapār goat, an enormous fellow,
with very broad, long, thin, and silky ears, as soft as velvet. The
Jumnapār are the best adapted for marching. Unless they can go into the
jungle and browse, they become thin and lose their milk. These goats,
bred on the banks of the Jumna, thence called “Jumnapār,” are remarkably
fine, and of a large size.
We had a Doomba ram at Prāg. The Doomba sheep are difficult to keep alive
in this climate. Their enormous tails are reckoned delicacies; the lambs
are particularly fine flavoured.
_Jan._—Our garden was now in good order; we had vegetables in abundance,
marrowfat peas as fine as in England, and the water-cresses, planted
close to the new well, were pearls beyond price. Allahabad is famous for
the growth of the finest carrots in India. At this time of the year we
gave our horses twelve seer each daily; it kept them in high health, and
_French-polished_ their coats. The geraniums grew luxuriantly during this
delightful time; and I could be out in the garden all day, when protected
by an enormous chatr, carried by a bearer. The up-country chatr is a very
large umbrella, in shape like a large flat mushroom, covered with doubled
cloth, with a deep circle of fringe. Great people have them made of silk,
and highly ornamented. The pole is very long, and it is full employment
for one man to carry the chatr properly.
The oleander (kanér), the beautiful sweet-scented oleander, was in
profusion,—deep red, pure white, pink, and variegated, with single and
double blossoms. I rooted up many clusters of this beautiful shrub in
the grounds, fearing the horses and cows might eat the leaves, which are
poisonous. Hindoo women, when tormented by jealousy, have recourse to
this poison for self-destruction.
THE ICE-PITS.
_Jan. 22nd._—My husband has the management of the ice concern this year.
It is now in full work, the weather bitterly cold, and we are making ice
by evaporation almost every night. I may here remark, the work continued
until the 19th of February, when the pit was closed with 3000 mann,—a
mann is about 80lbs. weight. There are two ice-pits; over each a house is
erected; the walls, built of mud, are low, thick, and circular; the roof
is thickly thatched; there is only one entrance, by a small door, which,
when closed, is defended from the sun and air by a jhamp, or frame-work
of bamboo covered with straw.
[Illustration: THE ICE PITS.
On Stone by Major Parlby.
فاني پارکس]
The diameter of the pit, in the centre of the house, is large, but the
depth not great, on account of the dampness of the ground. At the bottom
is a small well, the top of which is covered over with bamboo; a channel
unites it with a dry well on the outside, still deeper than itself, so
constructed, that all the water collected in the pit may immediately run
off through this duct, and be drawn up from the external well. This keeps
the pit perfectly dry—a material point. The interior is lined, from top
to bottom, with chatā’īs (mats), three or four deep, which are neatly
fastened by pegs round the inside; mats are also kept ready for covering
in the top of the pit. Some ābdārs recommend a further lining of sulum
(cotton-cloth), but it is unnecessary.
The ground belonging to the ice concern is divided into keeārees, or
shallow beds, very like saltern-pans in England, about six feet square
and a cubit in depth; between them are raised paths.
When the weather in December is cold enough to induce us to suppose water
will freeze at night with artificial aid, the business of ice-making
commences. At the bottom of the keeārees, the shallow square beds, a
black-looking straw is spread about a foot in depth, called “pooāl,”
which is reckoned better for the purpose than wheat-straw. Some ābdārs
think sugar-cane leaves the best thing to put under the pans in the
ice-beds; next in estimation is the straw or grass of kodo (the _paspalum
frumentaceum_); and then rice-straw, which is called “puwāl,” or “pooāl,”
though the term “pooāl” is not applied exclusively to the straw of rice.
The highest temperature at which ice was made in 1846, at Cawnpore, was
43° of Fahrenheit, or 11° above freezing point. At each of the four
corners, on the pathway, is placed a thiliyā (an earthen jar), which is
filled by a bihishtī with water[31]. The pooāl straw in the shallow beds
must be kept perfectly dry, to produce evaporation and the freezing of
the water in the little pans placed upon it; should rain fall, the straw
must be taken up and thoroughly dried before it can again be used.
It is amusing to see the old ābdār who has charge of the ice concern,
walking up and down of an evening, watching the weather, and calculating
if there be a chance of making ice. This is a grand point to decide, as
the expense of filling the pans is great, and not to be incurred without
a fair prospect of a crop of barf (ice) the next morning. He looks in
the wind’s eye, and if the breeze be fresh, and likely to increase, the
old man draws his warm garment around him, and returning to his own
habitation,—a hut close to the pits,—resigns himself to fate and his
hubble-bubble. But should there be a crisp frosty feeling in the air, he
prepares for action about 6 or 7 P.M., by beating a tom-tom (a native
hand-drum), a signal well known to the coolies in the bazaar, who hasten
to the pits. By the aid of the little cup fastened to the long sticks, as
shown in the sketch, they fill all the rukābees with the water from the
jars in the pathway. Many hundred coolies, men, women, and children, are
thus employed until every little pan is filled.
If the night be frosty, without wind, the ice will form perhaps an inch
and a half in thickness in the pans. If a breeze should blow, it will
often prevent the freezing of the water, except in those parts of the
grounds that are sheltered from the wind.
About 3 A.M. the ābdār, carefully muffled in some yards of English red
or yellow broad cloth, would be seen emerging from his hut; and if the
formation of ice was sufficiently thick, his tom-tom was heard, and the
shivering coolies would collect, wrapped up in black bazār blankets, and
shaking with cold. Sometimes it was extremely difficult to rouse them to
their work, and the increased noise of the tom-toms—discordant native
instruments—disturbed us and our neighbours with the pleasing notice of
more ice for the pits. Each cooly, armed with a spud, knocked the ice out
of the little pans into a basket, which having filled, he placed it on
his head, ran with it to the ice-house, and threw it down the great pit.
When all the pans had been emptied, the people assembled around the old
ābdār, who kept an account of the number at work on a roll of paper or a
book. From a great bag full of pice (copper coins) and cowrie-shells, he
paid each man his hire. About ten men were retained, on extra pay, to
finish the work. Each man having been supplied with a blanket, shoes, and
a heavy wooden mallet, four at a time descended into the pit by a ladder,
and beat down the ice collected there into a hard flat mass; these men
were constantly relieved by a fresh set, the cold being too great for
them to remain long at the bottom of the pit.
When the ice was all firmly beaten down, it was covered in with mats,
over which a quantity of straw was piled, and the door of the ice-house
locked. The pits are usually opened on the 1st of May, but it is better
to open them on the 1st of April. We had ice this year until the 20th of
August. Each subscriber’s allowance is twelve ser (24 lbs.) every other
day. A bearer, or a cooly is sent with an ice-basket, a large bazār
blanket, a cotton cloth, and a wooden mallet, at 4 A.M., to bring the ice
from the pit. The ābdār, having weighed the ice, puts it into the cloth,
and ties it up tightly with a string; the cooly then beats it all round
into the smallest compass possible, ties it afresh, and, having placed it
in the blanket within the ice-basket, he returns home. The gentleman’s
ābdār, on his arrival at his master’s house, re-weighs the ice, as the
coolies often stop in the bazaars, and sell a quantity of it to natives,
who are particularly fond of it, the man pretending it has melted away
_en route_.
The natives make ice for themselves, and sell it at two annas a seer;
they do not preserve it for the hot winds, but give a good price for the
ice stolen from the sāhib loge[32].
For the art of freezing cream ices to perfection, and the method of
making them in India, I refer you to the Appendix[33].
As the ābdārs generally dislike rising early to weigh the ice, the cooly
may generally steal it with impunity. The ice-baskets are made of strips
of bamboo covered inside and out with numdā, a thick coarse woollen
wadding. The interior is lined with dosootee (white cotton cloth), and
the exterior covered with ghuwā kopra, a coarse red cloth that rots less
than any other from moisture.
The basket should be placed on a wooden stool, with a pan below to catch
the dripping water.
Calcutta was supplied, in 1833, with fine clear ice from America, sent
in enormous blocks, which sold at two annas a seer, about twopence
per pound: this ice is greatly superior to that made in India, which
is beaten up when collected into a mass, and dissolves more rapidly
than the block ice. It is not as an article of luxury only that ice is
delightful in this climate, medicinally it is of great use: there is
much virtue in an iced nightcap to a feverish head. The American ice has
not yet penetrated to the Up Country; we shall have ice from Calcutta
when the railroads are established. No climate under the sun can be more
delightful than this during the cold weather, at which time we enjoy
fires very much, and burn excellent coal, which is brought by water from
Calcutta. The coal mines are at Burdwan, 100 miles from the presidency.
In Calcutta it costs eight annas a mann; here, if procurable, it is one
rupee: this year we had fires until the 29th of February.
After a good gallop round the Mahratta Bund, on Master George, a
remarkably fine Arab, with what zest we and our friends partook of
Hunter’s beef and brawn!—as good as that of Oxford; the table drawn close
to the fire, and the bright blaze not exceeding in cheerfulness the
gaiety of the party!
_March 31st._—How fearful are fevers in India! On this day my husband
was attacked; a medical man was instantly called in, medicine was of no
avail, the illness increased hourly. On the 9th of April, the aid of the
superintending surgeon was requested; a long consultation took place,
and a debate as to which was to be employed, the lancet, or a bottle of
claret; it terminated in favour of the latter, and claret to the extent
of a bottle a day was given him: his head was enveloped in three bladders
of ice, and iced towels were around his neck. On the 17th day, for the
first time since the commencement of the attack, he tasted food; that is,
he ate half a small bun; before that, he had been supported solely on
claret and fresh strawberries, being unable to take broth or arrow-root.
Not daring to leave him a moment night or day, I got two European
artillerymen from the fort, to assist me in nursing him. On the 23rd,
the anxiety I had suffered, and over-exertion, brought on fever, which
confined me to my chārpāī for seven days; all this time my husband was
too ill to quit his bed; so we lay on two chārpāīs, under the same
pankhā, two artillerymen for our nurses, applying iced towels to our
heads, while my two women, with true native apathy, lay on the ground
by the side of my bed, seldom attending to me, and only thinking how
soon they could get away to eat and smoke. The attention and kindness of
the medical men, and of our friends at the station, were beyond praise.
Thanks to good doctoring, good nursing, and good claret, at the end of
the month we began to recover health and strength.
_May 18th._—The ice-pits were opened, and every subscriber received
twenty-four pounds weight of ice every other day—perfectly invaluable
with a thermometer at 93°! Our friends had kindly allowed them to be
opened before, during our fevers. It is impossible to describe the
comfort of ice to the head, or of iced-soda water to a parched and
tasteless palate, and an exhausted frame.
_April._—Lord Amherst was requested by the directors to remain here
until the arrival of Lord William Bentinck; and such was his intention,
I believe, had he not been prevented by the dangerous illness of lady
Sarah; and by this time, it is possible the family are on their way home.
Mr. Bayley is Viceroy, and will reign longer than he expected, as Lord
William Bentinck does not sail before January.
Our politicians are all on the _qui vive_ at the _mêlée_ between the
Russians and Persians, and the old story of an invasion of India is again
agitated:—we are not alarmed.
_June 7th._—The weather is more oppressive than we have _ever_ found
it; the heat intolerable; the thermometer, in my room, 93°, in spite of
tattees and pankhās. Allahabad may boast of being the oven of India; and
the flat stone roof of our house renders it much hotter than if it were
thatched.
We were most fortunate in quitting Calcutta; this past year the cholera
has raged there most severely; the Europeans have suffered much; many
from perfect health have been carried to their graves in a few hours.
A novel and a sofa is all one is equal to during such intense heat, which
renders life scarcely endurable.
Ice is our greatest luxury; and our ice, made from the cream of our own
cows, and Gunter’s jam, is as good as any in England. My thoughts flow
heavily and stupidly under such intolerable heat: when the thermometer is
_only_ 82°, _we rejoice in_ the coolness of the season; to-day it is 92°,
and will be hotter as the day advances; the wind _will_ not blow. If a
breeze would but spring up, we could be comfortable, as the air is cooled
passing through the wet khus-khus: what would I not give for a fresh
sea-breeze! Let me not think of it.
Horses at this season of the year are almost useless; it is too hot to
ride, and even a man feels that he has scarcely nerve enough to mount his
horse with pleasure: in the buggy it is very oppressive, the fiery wind
is so overpowering; and a carriage is too hot to be borne. I speak not of
the middle of the day, but of the hours between 7 P.M. and 6 A.M.,—the
_cool_ hours as we call them!
From Madras they write the thermometer is at 96°! How can they breathe!
Here at 93° it is fearfully hot—if they have a sea-breeze to render
the nights cool, it is a blessing; here the heat at night is scarcely
endurable, and to sleep almost impossible.
I had a very large farm-yard. The heat has killed all the guinea-fowls,
turkeys, and pigeons, half the fowls, and half the rabbits.
_12th._—We have had a most miserable time of it for the last two months;
this has been one of the hottest seasons in recollection, and Allahabad
has well sustained its _sobriquet_ of Chōtā Jahannum! which, being
interpreted, is Hell the Little. Within these two days the state of
affairs has been changed; we are now enjoying the freshness of the rains,
whose very fall is music to our ears: another such season would tempt us
to quit this station, in spite of its other recommendations.
Lord William Bentinck arrived July 3rd. The new Bishop of Calcutta is
gone home, obliged to fly the country for his life; indeed, he was so
ill, that a report of his death having come up here, some of his friends
are in mourning for him; but I trust, poor man, he is going on well at
sea at this minute.
_Sept. 8th._—My verandah presents an interesting scene: at present,
at one end, two carpenters are making a wardrobe; near them is a man
polishing steel. Two silversmiths are busy making me some ornaments after
the Hindostani patterns; the tailors are finishing a gown, and the ayha
is polishing silk stockings with a large cowrie shell. The horses are
standing near, in a row, eating lucerne grass, and the jumadār is making
a report on their health, which is the custom at twelve at noon, when
they come round for their tiffin.
Yesterday a mad pariah dog ran into the drawing-room; I closed the doors
instantly, and the servants shot the animal: dogs are numerous and
dangerous at some seasons.
Exchanged a little mare—who could sing, “I’m sweet fifteen, and one
year more”—for a stud-bred Arab, named Trelawny; the latter being too
impetuous to please his master.
Our friend Major D⸺ is anxious to tempt us to Nagpore, if we could get
a good appointment there. “He rides a steed of air[34];” and we have
indulged in building _châteaux d’Espagne_, or castles in Ayrshire.
_Aug. 21st._—It is thought the gentleman, for whom my husband now
officiates, will not rejoin this appointment; should he be disappointed
of his hope of reigning in his stead, he will apply for something else
rather than return to Calcutta, which we do not wish to see till the year
of furlough, 1833-4. Meantime we must make it out as well as we can, and
live upon hope, with the assurance that _if_ we live, we shall not _die_
fasting.
I wish the intermediate years would pass by as quickly as the river Jumna
before our house, which is in such a furious hurry, that it is quite
awful to see the velocity with which the boats fly along. Both the Ganges
and the Jumna have this year been unusually high, and much mischief to
the villages on the banks has been the consequence. There was a report
the day before yesterday, that the Ganges, about a mile from this, had
burst its banks. Luckily it was false; but it was a very near thing.
Since then the river has sunk nearly twenty feet, so that we have no fear
at present. The Jumna was within six feet of our garden bank.
Of the climate we cannot form a fair opinion, but it is certainly very
superior to any they have in Bengal. This year has been most unnatural;
no regular hot winds, unexpected storms, and the rains delayed beyond
their proper season. Allahabad is called the oven of India, therefore I
expect to become a _jolie brune_, and the sāhib well-baked.
We have just received telegraphic intelligence of the bishop’s death at
the Sandheads, where he was sent on account of severe illness, which
terminated fatally on the 13th instant. It is said, that _three_ bishops
are to be imported, the late consumption having been so great. They ought
to make bishops of the clergy who have passed their lives in India, and
not send out old men who cannot stand the climate.
We have the use of a native steam-bath, which is most refreshing when the
skin feels dry and uncomfortable. There are three rooms—the temperature
of the first is moderate; that of the second, warmer; and the third,
which contains the steam, is heated to about 100°. There you sit, until
the perspiration starts in great drops from every pore; the women are
then admitted, who rub you with besun[35] and native hand-rubbers[36],
and pour hot water over you until the surface peels off; and you come out
a new creature, like the snake that has cast its skin. One feels fresh
and elastic, and the joints supple: the steam-bath is a fine invention.
_Oct. 1st._—The first steamer arrived at Allahabad in twenty-six days
from Calcutta; the natives came down in crowds to view it from the banks
of the Jumna; it was to them a cause of great astonishment.
CHAPTER X.
LIFE IN THE ZENĀNA.
“SHE WHO IS BELOVED, IS THE WIFE[37].”
Zenāna of the King of Oude—Regiment of Females—The Favourite
Wife—The English Begam—The Princess of Delhi, _the_ Begam
_par excellence_—Colonel Gardner—Mirza Sulimān Sheko and his
fifty-two Children—The forty Princesses—Mootee, the Pearl of
the Desert—Hunting Season at Papamhow—Jackals and Foxes—A
Suttee at Prāg—Report of a Suttee—An ill-starred Horse.
_Oct. 1828._—A letter just received from a lady, a friend of mine, at
Lucnow, is so amusing and so novel, I must make an extract:—
“The other day, (Oct. 18th,) was the anniversary of the King of Oude’s
coronation; and I went to see the ceremony, one I had never witnessed
before, and with which I was much gratified. But the greatest treat was
a visit to the begam’s afterwards, when the whole of the wives, aunts,
cousins, &c., were assembled in state to receive us.
“The old begam (the king’s mother), was the _great lady_, of course,
and in her palace were we received; the others being considered her
guests, as well as ourselves. It was a most amusing sight, as I had never
witnessed the interior of a zenāna before, and so many women assembled
at once I had never beheld. I suppose from first to last we saw some
thousands. _Women-bearers_ carried our tanjans; a regiment of female
gold and silver-sticks, dressed in male costume, were drawn up before
the entrance; and those men, chiefly _Africans_, who were employed inside
the zenāna (and there were abundance of these frightful creatures),
were all of the same class as the celebrated Velluti. The old begam was
without jewels or ornaments, likewise a very pretty and favourite wife of
the late king, their state of widowhood precluding their wearing them.
But the present king’s wives were most superbly dressed, and looked like
creatures of the Arabian tales. Indeed, one was so beautiful, that I
could think of nothing but Lalla Rookh in her bridal attire.
“I never saw any one so lovely, either black or white. Her features were
perfect; and such eyes and eyelashes I never beheld before. She is the
favourite queen at present, and has only been married a month or two: her
age about fourteen; and such a little creature, with the smallest hands
and feet, and the most _timid_, _modest_ look imaginable. You would have
been charmed with her, she was so graceful and fawn-like. Her dress was
of gold and scarlet brocade, and her hair was literally strewed with
pearls, which hung down upon her neck in long single strings, terminating
in large pearls, which mixed with and hung _as low_ as her hair, which
was curled on each side her head in long ringlets, like Charles the
Second’s beauties.
“On her forehead she wore a small gold circlet, from which depended (and
hung half-way down her forehead) large pear-shaped pearls, interspersed
with emeralds. The pearls were of this size and form, and had a very
becoming effect, close upon the forehead, between the eyes. Above this
was a paradise plume, from which strings of pearls were carried over the
head, as we turn _our hair_.
[Illustration]
“I fear you will not understand me. Her ear-rings were immense
gold-rings, with pearls and emeralds suspended all round in long strings,
the pearls increasing in size. She had a nose-ring also, with large
round pearls and emeralds; and her necklaces, &c., were too numerous to
be described. She wore long sleeves, open at the elbow; and her dress
was a full petticoat, some dozen yards wide, with a tight body attached,
and only open at the throat. She had several persons to bear her train
when she walked; and her women stood behind her couch to arrange her
head-dress, when in moving her pearls got entangled in the immense
dopatta of scarlet and gold she had thrown around her. How I wished for
you when we were seated! you would have been delighted with the whole
scene. This beautiful creature is the envy of all the other wives, and
the favourite, at present, of the king and his mother, both of whom have
given her titles—the king’s is after the favourite wife of one of the
celebrated kings of Delhi, ‘Tajmahŭl,’ and Nourmahŭl herself could not
have been more lovely.
“The other newly-made queen is nearly _European_, but not a whit fairer
than Tajmahŭl. She is, in my opinion, plain, but is considered by the
native ladies very handsome; and she was the king’s favourite until he
saw Tajmahŭl.
“She was more splendidly dressed than even Tajmahŭl; her head-dress was
a coronet of diamonds, with a fine crescent and plume of the same. She
is the daughter of an European merchant, and is accomplished for an
inhabitant of a zenāna, as she writes and speaks Persian fluently, as
well as Hindostani, and it is said she is teaching the king _English_;
though, when we spoke to her in English, she said she had forgotten it,
and could not reply. She was, I fancy, afraid of the old begam, as she
evidently understood us; and when asked if she liked being in the zenāna,
she shook her head and looked quite melancholy. Jealousy of the new
favourite, however, appeared the cause of her discontent, as, though they
sat on the same couch, they never addressed each other. And now you must
be as tired of the begams, as I am of writing about them.
“The mother of the king’s children, Mulka Zumanee, did not visit us at
the old queen’s, but we went to see her at her own palace: she is, _after
all_, the person of the most political consequence, being the mother of
the heir-apparent; and she has great power over her royal husband, whose
ears she boxes occasionally.
“The Delhi princess, to whom the king was betrothed and married by his
father, we did not see; she is in disgrace, and confined to her own
palace. The old begam talked away to us, but appeared surprised I should
admire Tajmahŭl more than the English begam, as she is called,—_my
country-woman_ as they styled her!
“Poor thing, I felt ashamed of the circumstance, when I saw her chewing
pān with all the gusto of a regular Hindostanee.”
The above letter contains so charming an account of Lucnow, that I cannot
refrain from adding an extract from another of the same lady.
“At the residency, on such a day as this, the thermometer is seldom short
of 100°!
“Did you ever hear of Colonel Gardner? he is married to a native
princess. The other day he paid Lucnow a visit. His son’s wife is sister
to the _legal_ queen of our present worthy sovereign of Oude. Colonel
Gardner came on a visit to the begam’s father, Mirza Sulimān Sheko, a
prince of the house of Delhi, blessed with fifty-two children, twelve
sons and forty daughters! Did you ever hear of such enormity? the poor
papa is without a rupee, his pension from government of 5000 rupees a
month is mortgaged to his numerous creditors. He has quarrelled with his
illustrious son-in-law, the king of Oude; and Colonel Gardner has come
over with the laudable purpose of removing his family from Oude to Delhi,
where they will have a better chance of being provided for.
“Indeed, the other day, seventeen of the daughters were betrothed to
seventeen princes of Delhi: this is disposing of one’s daughters by
wholesale! is it not? Colonel Gardner, who is a very gentlemanlike
person, I hear, of the old school, was educated in France some fifty
years ago. He gave a description of his sojourn amongst this _small
family_ in the city, in these words,—‘I slept every night with the
thermometer at 100°, and surrounded by 500 females!’
“What a situation! I do not know which would be the most overpowering,
the extreme heat, or the incessant clack of the forty princesses and
their attendants. It reminds me of the old fairy tale of the ‘Ogre’s
forty daughters with golden crowns on their heads.’”
_On dit_, the English begam was the daughter of a half caste and
an English officer; her mother afterwards married a native buniyā
(shop-keeper). She had a sister; both the girls lived with the mother,
and employed themselves in embroidering saddle-cloths for the horses
of the rich natives. They were both very plain; nevertheless, one of
them sent her picture to his majesty, who, charmed with the portrait,
married the lady. She had money in profusion at her command: she made her
father-in-law her treasurer, and pensioned her mother and sister.
THE SUTTEE.
A rich buniyā, a corn chandler, whose house was near the gate of our
grounds, departed this life; he was an Hindoo. On the 7th of November,
the natives in the bazār were making a great noise with their tom-toms,
drums, and other discordant musical instruments, rejoicing that his widow
had determined to perform suttee, _i.e._ to burn on his funeral-pile.
The magistrate sent for the woman, used every argument to dissuade her,
and offered her money. Her only answer was, dashing her head on the
floor, and saying, “If you will not let me burn with my husband, I will
hang myself in your court of justice.” The shāstrs say, “The prayers
and imprecations of a suttee are never uttered in vain; the great gods
themselves cannot listen to them unmoved.”
If a widow touch either food or water from the time her husband expires
until she ascend the pile, she cannot, by Hindoo law, be burned with
the body; therefore the magistrate kept the corpse _forty-eight_ hours,
in the hope that hunger would compel the woman to eat. Guards were set
over her, but she never touched any thing. My husband accompanied the
magistrate to see the suttee: about 5000 people were collected together
on the banks of the Ganges: the pile was then built, and the putrid
body placed upon it; the magistrate stationed guards to prevent the
people from approaching it. After having bathed in the river, the widow
lighted a brand, walked round the pile, set it on fire, and then mounted
cheerfully: the flame caught and blazed up instantly; she sat down,
placing the head of the corpse on her lap, and repeated several times the
usual form, “Ram, Ram, suttee; Ram, Ram, suttee,” _i.e._ “God, God, I am
chaste.”
As the wind drove the fierce fire upon her, she shook her arms and limbs
as if in agony; at length she started up and approached the side to
escape. An Hindoo, one of the police who had been placed near the pile
to see she had fair play, and should not be burned by force, raised his
sword to strike her, and the poor wretch shrank back into the flames. The
magistrate seized and committed him to prison. The woman again approached
the side of the blazing pile, sprang fairly out, and ran into the Ganges,
which was within a few yards. When the crowd and the brothers of the dead
man saw this, they called out, “Cut her down, knock her on the head with
a bamboo; tie her hands and feet, and throw her in again;” and rushed
down to execute their murderous intentions, when the gentlemen and the
police drove them back.
The woman drank some water, and having extinguished the fire on her red
garment, said she would mount the pile again and be burned.
The magistrate placed his hand on her shoulder (which rendered her
impure), and said, “By your own law, having once quitted the pile you
cannot ascend again; I forbid it. You are now an outcast from the
Hindoos, but I will take charge of you, the Company will protect you, and
you shall never want food or clothing.”
He then sent her, in a palanquin, under a guard, to the hospital. The
crowd made way, shrinking from her with signs of horror, but returned
peaceably to their homes; the Hindoos annoyed at her escape, and the
Mussulmans saying, “It was better that she should escape, but it was a
pity we should have lost the _tamāshā_ (amusement) of seeing her burnt to
death.”
Had not the magistrate and the English gentlemen been present, the
Hindoos would have cut her down when she attempted to quit the fire; or
had she leapt out, would have thrown her in again, and have said, “She
performed suttee of _her own accord_, how could _we_ make her? it was
the will of God.” As a specimen of their religion the woman said, “I
have transmigrated six times, and have been burned six times with six
different husbands; if I do not burn the seventh time, it will prove
unlucky for me!” “What good will burning do you?” asked a bystander. She
replied, “The women of my husband’s family have all been suttees, why
should I bring disgrace upon them? I shall go to heaven, and afterwards
re-appear on earth, and be married to a very rich man.” She was about
twenty or twenty-five years of age, and possessed of some property, for
the sake of which her relatives wished to put her out of the world.
If every suttee were conducted in this way, very few would take place in
India. The woman was not much burned, with the exception of some parts
on her arms and legs. Had she performed suttee, they would have raised
a little cenotaph, or a mound of earth by the side of the river, and
every Hindoo who passed the place returning from bathing would have made
sālām to it; a high honour to the family. While we were in Calcutta,
many suttees took place; but as they were generally on the other side
of the river, we only heard of them after they had occurred. Here the
people passed in procession, flags flying, and drums beating, close by
our door. I saw them from the verandah; the widow, dressed in a red
garment, was walking in the midst. My servants all ran to me, begging to
be allowed to go and see the tamāshā (fun, sport), and having obtained
permission, they all started off, except one man, who was pulling the
pankhā, and he looked greatly vexed at being obliged to remain. The sāhib
said, the woman appeared so perfectly determined, he did not think she
would have quitted the fire. Having performed suttee according to her
own account six times before, one would have thought from her miraculous
incombustibility, she had become asbestos, only purified and not consumed
by fire. I was glad the poor creature was not murdered; but she will be
an outcast; no Hindoo will eat with her, enter her house, or give her
assistance; and when she appears they will point at her and give her
abuse. Her own and her husband’s family would lose caste if they were
to speak to her: but, as an example, it will prevent a number of women
from becoming suttees, and do infinite good: fortunately, she has no
children. And these are the people called in Europe the “mild inoffensive
Hindoos!”
The woman was mistress of a good house and about 800 rupees; the brothers
of her deceased husband would, after her destruction, have inherited the
property.
The burning of the widow is not commanded by the shāstrs: to perform
suttee is a proof of devotion to the husband. The mountain Himalaya,
being personified, is represented as a powerful monarch: his wife,
Mena; their daughter is called Parvuti, or mountain-born, and Doorga,
or difficult of access. She is said to have been married to Shivŭ in
a _pre-existing_ state when she was called Sŭtēē. After the marriage,
Shivŭ on a certain occasion offended his father-in-law, King Dŭkshŭ, by
refusing to make sālām to him as he entered the circle in which the king
was sitting.
To be revenged, the monarch refused to invite Shivŭ to a sacrifice
which he was about to perform. Sŭtēē, the king’s daughter, however, was
resolved to go, though uninvited and forbidden by her husband. On her
arrival, Dŭkshŭ poured a torrent of abuse on Shivŭ, which affected Sŭtēē
so much that she died.
In memory of this proof of great affection, a Hindoo widow burning with
her husband on the funeral-pile, is called a Sŭtēē.
The following passages are from the Hindoo Shāstrs:—
“There are 35,000,000 hairs on the human body. The woman who ascends the
pile with her husband, will remain so many years in heaven.”
“As the snake draws the serpent from its hole, so she, rescuing her
husband (from hell), rejoices with him.”
“The woman who expires on the funeral-pile of her husband, purifies the
family of her mother, her father, and her husband.”
“So long as a woman, in her successive transmigrations, shall decline
burning herself, like a faithful wife, on the same fire with her deceased
lord, so long shall she not be exempted from springing again to life in
the body of some female animal.”
[Illustration: TEMPLE OF BHAWĀNĪ AND SUTTEES ALOPEE BĀGH.
On Stone by Major Parlby.
Sketched on the Spot by فاني پارکس]
“There is no virtue greater than a chaste woman burning herself with
her husband:” the term Sŭtēē, here rendered “chaste” is thus explained;
“commiserating with her husband in trouble, rejoicing in his joys,
neglecting herself when he is gone from home, and dying at his death.”
“By the favour of a chaste woman the universe is preserved, on which
account she is to be regarded by kings and people as a goddess.”
“If the husband be out of the country when he dies, let the virtuous wife
take his slippers (or any thing else which belongs to his dress) and
binding them, or it, on her breast, after purification, enter a separate
fire.”
Mothers collect the cowries strewn by a sŭtēē as she walks round the
pile, ere she fires it, and hang them round the necks of their sick
children as a cure for disease.
In the plate entitled “Superstitions of the Natives,” fig. 3 represents
the cowrie shells. (Cypræa moneta.)
The suttee took place on the banks of the Ganges, under the Bund between
the Fort and Raj Ghat, a spot reckoned very holy and fortunate for the
performance of the rite.
Several of our friends requested me, in case another suttee occurred,
to send them timely notice. Five days afterwards, I was informed that a
rānee[38] was to be burned. Accordingly I sent word to all my friends.
Eight thousand people were assembled on the suttee-ground, who waited
from mid-day to sunset: then a cry arose—“The mem sāhiba sent us here!
the mem sāhiba said it was to take place to-day! see, the sun has set,
there can now be no suttee!” The people dispersed. My informant told
me what he himself believed, and I mystified some 8000 people most
unintentionally.
TEMPLE OF BHAWĀNĪ AND SUTTEES, ALOPEE BAGH.
In Alopee Bagh, in the centre of a large plantation of mango-trees, is
a small temple dedicated to Bhawānī; there is no image in it, merely a
raised altar, on which victims were, I suppose, formerly sacrificed. Each
of the small buildings on the right contains the ashes of a suttee;
there are seven suttee-graves of masonry on this, and six of earth on the
other side, near the temple, in the mango tope. The largest suttee-tomb
contains the ashes of a woman who was burnt in 1825, _i.e._ six years
ago. The ashes are always buried near a temple sacred to Bhāwanī, and
_never_ by any other. Families too poor to raise a tomb of masonry in
memory of the burnt-sacrifice, are contented to raise a mound of earth,
and place a kulsa of red earthenware to mark the spot. In the sketch of
“The Kulsas[39],” Fig. 8 is one of this description, which I carried away
from these suttee-mounds.
The temple of Bhawānī is shaded by a most beautiful peepul-tree, from
the centre of which a fakīr’s flag was flying; it stands in a plantation
of mango-trees. I desired an Hindoo, who was present when I sketched the
temple, to count the suttee-graves around it. As he counted them, he
repeatedly made sālām to each mound.
The kulsa, Fig. 8, is made of common unglazed red pottery: there are
five points—one at the top, the others placed at equal spaces around it;
between the points are two figures of human beings, and two emblems like
a moon and a crescent, see Fig. 9. The kulsa is hollow, and has five
holes, through which the points, which are of solid earthenware, are
introduced before baking, see Fig. 10: height, ten inches and a half;
circumference just below the points, twenty-six inches; diameter at
bottom, six inches. The kulsa, Fig. 7, is another from a large suttee at
the same spot, of a different form; they call it a topee walla kulsa. The
suttees in the sketch of the temple of Bhawānī are all of masonry; the
mounds are invisible, lying at the back of the temple.
_Nov._—My beautiful Arab, Mootee, after taking a most marvellous quantity
of blue vitriol and opium, has recovered, but will be unfit for my
riding; the sinews of his fore-leg are injured; besides which, he is
rather too playful; he knocked down his sā’īs yesterday, tore his clothes
to pieces, bit two bits of flesh out of his back, and would perhaps have
killed him, had not the people in the bazār interfered and rescued the
man. It was an odd freak, he is such a sweet-tempered animal, and I never
knew him behave incorrectly before.
We spent the month of December, our hunting season, at Papamhow; and
purchased several couple of the Berkeley hounds, from the Calcutta
kennel, for the pack at Allahabad. I received a present of an excellent
little black horse with a long tail; and, mounted on him, used to go
out every day after the jackals and foxes. I am rich in riding-horses,
and the dark brown stud Arab Trelawny bids fair to rival Mootee in
my affections. Returning from chasing a jackal one evening, it was
very dark, and as Captain A⸺ S⸺ was cantering his Arab across the
parade-ground, the animal put his foot into a deep hole, and fell;
our friend thought nothing of it, and refused to be bled; a few days
afterwards the regiment quitted Allahabad, and he died the second day, on
the march to Benares. He was an ill-fated animal, that little horse of
his: they called him an Arab pony, but no good caste animal would have
been so vicious; he had one fault, a trick of biting at the foot of his
rider—he bit off the toe of his former master, mortification ensued, and
the man died. I often wished to mount him, but they would never allow me:
the creature was very handsome, and remarkably well formed; doubtless
a native would have found unlucky marks upon him—at that time I was
ignorant respecting samāt, or unlucky marks on horses.
CHAPTER XI.
RESIDENCE AT PRĀG.
“I KEEP WRITING ON UPON THE PRINCIPLE OF A GOOD ECONOMIST, THAT IT IS A
PITY SO MUCH PAPER SHOULD BE LOST, WHICH, LIKE THE QUEER LITTLE OLD MAN
IN THE SONG, ‘HAS A LONG WAY TO GO.’”
“WHAT RELIANCE IS THERE ON LIFE[40]?”
“HE WHO HAS ILL-LUCK FOR HIS COMPANION WILL BE BITTEN BY A DOG ALTHOUGH
MOUNTED ON A CAMEL[41].”
1829—March to Benares—Misfortunes _en suite_—The Hummām of
the Rajah—Flowers of Wax and Ubruk—Return to Prāg—Storm _en
route_—Gram—A Central Government—Thieves, Domestic—Snake
in the Stable—Death in a Pālkee—Power of the Sun to change
the Sex—Lord William Bentinck—Half-Batta—The Jaws of the
Crocodile—The Clipper—Discontent of the Army—Recovery of the
Stolen Rupees—The Gosāin—Ram Din—The Ancient Temple.
_Jan. 1829._—In the beginning of this month, having promised to meet
Captain A. S⸺ at the races at Ghazeepore, we started by land, having sent
tents and provisions by water to await our arrival. A violent headache
preventing me from mounting my horse, I proceeded in a pālkee, much
against medical advice, and slept half-way to Benares, in our tents.
Rising late the next day, we had a hot ride before reaching the Stanhope,
where we learnt that our pitaras had been stolen. My husband rode forward
in pursuit of the thieves, leaving me seated by the side of the road;
the sun becoming very hot, I got into the buggy, overcome from my recent
illness, the sā’īs holding the horse. I was startled from a doze by the
sound of the bells of a native cart passing with flags flying; the horse
alarmed sprang from the sā’īs’s hands, pulling away the reins, which fell
to the ground; away galloped the horse, a strong animal fifteen hands
high; he looked down the steep ditch on one side the raised road, turned
round, looked over the ditch on the other side, made one more sudden turn
in alarm, and upset the buggy. I was thrown head foremost through the
opening in the back, my limbs remaining under the buggy-hood, which was
broken to pieces; the horse fairly kicked himself out of the shafts, and
galloped off; I was glad when I found he was free, and knew he could not
break my legs, which were still under the hood: at length I dragged them
out, with my long habit-skirt, and made an attempt to go after the horse,
but was obliged to sit down—blue and yellow suns, stars, and bright
objects floated before my eyes—I was unable to stand: my dressing-case
having been thrown out of the buggy, I drank some _sal volatile_, which
took off the giddiness. My husband returned at this moment, and an
officer from some tents near at hand came to our assistance. The Stanhope
was carried forward by coolies; we had a Calcutta buggy also with us, in
which we proceeded. The road was covered with the finest sand, rendering
it impossible to see the deep holes in every direction. The horse, a
powerful English imported creature, was going very fast, when he put
both his fore feet into a deep hole, and came down; the high Calcutta
buggy swung forwards with such force I was pitched out over the wheel on
my head, and remained insensible for a few seconds. My husband was not
thrown out. He was unable to leave the frightened horse; it was a relief
when he heard a voice from the dust, saying, “I am not hurt;” a voice he
feared he should never hear again. The bruises I had before received,
united with this blow on my head, which cut through my riding-hat, made
me very nervous; and when at the last stage we had to drive a run-away
mare, laid for us by a friend, I really sat in fear and trembling. At
last we arrived at Benares. I was carried up-stairs to bed, my limbs
being stiff and painful. For ten days I could scarcely move, so much was
my body bruised by the iron rail and hood of the buggy, and my right arm
was greatly swollen.
My recovery was brought about by having four women to shampoo me for five
hours daily, and by going into a vapour-bath belonging to the Rajah of
Benares. In the bath the women shampooed, and twisted, and pinched my
limbs, until I could walk without assistance—that vapour-bath was a great
relief.
One morning the rajah sent me a bouquet of flowers, they were beautifully
made of ubruk (talc, mica) and coloured wax, the first I had seen well
executed.
My husband at the billiard-table, said: “I am uncertain respecting that
stroke, I wish A⸺ S⸺ was here.” “Do you not know he is dead?” said his
opponent, “he died in consequence of his fall with that Arab pony at
Papamhow.” We were greatly shocked.
_Jan. 29th._—We quitted our kind friends at Benares to return home:
ill-luck pursued us—the first stage the horse fell lame, and we reached
our tent with difficulty. During the night a heavy storm came on; the
tent being old was soon saturated, and the water poured in on our
chārpāīs. The horses picketed outside were drenched, they neighed and
shook their chains; the sā’īses crept under the corners of the rāwtī, and
we had the floorcloth put over us, to protect us from the rain and cold.
The next day we galloped to our second tent, which we found soaked
through from the rain of the night. There was the tent, and nothing else.
One of the camels having fallen lame, the servants had made it a pretext
for not continuing their march, and we were _planté_ in the jungle
without food, bedding, or warm clothing! A camel-driver caught a chicken,
and drawing out a long queer crooked blade, killed it, and dressed an
excellent curry in a few minutes; having had no food all day, and much
exercise, we devoured it to the last grain of rice. I thought of the
saying, “If you ask a hungry man how much two and two make—he answers,
‘Four loaves[42].’” The night was miserable, the wind blowing through
the wet canvass; we could not even borrow a blanket from the horses,
everything was drenched. A pukka ague and fever was the consequence,
which lasted seven or eight days, and returned regularly once every four
weeks for three months.
Nor did our misfortunes end here. Much to the surprise of my husband, his
Arab Rajah, whom he had had for seven years, threw him over his right
shoulder. Rajah was particularly pleased; for having looked at him, he
cocked his tail and went off at his best pace towards home. Monsieur was
not hurt, and received only a few bruises for his carelessness, which,
considering he now weighs fourteen stone, shows that, like Cæsar, he has
much respect for his person and can fall in proper form.
Another _malheur_! a box from England on its way up the river was stolen
at Patna; it contained letters and presents for me, amongst the rest a
veritable _tête montée à la Giraffe_, a serious loss, _qui pourrait bien
faire monter la tête_—but I bear the misfortune bravely.
The arrival of a friend from England has pleased us greatly. What
pleasure reminiscences Etonian and Harrovian give him and the sāhib!
“Economy, _esperanza_, and 1833,” is our motto. “In five years,” says an
old Harrovian, “we may hear the bell and going up—sounds worth listening
to.”
_Cicer arietinum_ (chickweed), is called _arietinum_ because the young
seed bears a very curious resemblance to a ram’s horn. The crops being
favourable this year, this chickweed (chāna or gram) was sold in the
city one mŭn twenty-two ser per rupee; and in the district, one mŭn
thirty-five ser for the same.
_March 8th._—At this time my husband was attacked with ague and fever,
the consequence of our expedition to Benares.
There is a rumour of a central government being established, the location
to be hereabouts, so that Allahabad may again become a city of repute.
We have had much annoyance of late from the servants stealing all sorts
of little things, as also wine. Two of the khidmatgārs were the culprits:
one has been rataned, and put in irons to work on the road; we could not
punish the other, but it was a pleasure to get him out of the house. In
India, amongst so many servants, it is very difficult to discover the
thief.
_May 31st._—How I rejoice this month is over!—this vile month! It appears
almost wicked to abuse the merry merry month of May, so delightful at
home, but so hot in India. Mr. M⸺ started from Calcutta to come up dāk on
the 7th instant, and died in his pālkee of brain-fever only three days
afterwards, in consequence of the intense heat! We spare no expense to
keep the house cool, and have fourteen men whose sole business night and
day is to throw water on tattīs to cool the rooms; unless the wind blows,
the tattīs are useless. The heat makes you as sick as if you were to shut
your head up in an oven.
A young bullock was standing in the stable to-day by the side of three
horses, a snake bit the animal, and it died in a few minutes; the horses
escaped,—and so did the snake, much to my sorrow.
_July 19th._—The other evening Major P⸺ was with us, when Ram Din, a
favourite Hindoo servant, brought into the room a piece of cotton cloth
containing 150 rupees tightly tied up in it; the man placed it on the
table by my side, and retired. Major P⸺, who thought the cloth looked
dirty, took it up, and saying, “Oh the vile rupees!” let it drop upon the
ground between his chair and mine. We took tea; and I retired to rest,
entirely forgetting the bag of rupees. When I looked for it the following
morning, of course it had disappeared. By the advice of the jāmadār of
the office we sent for a gosāin, a holy personage, who lived in a most
remarkable temple on the ruins of an old well by the side of the Jumna,
close to our house. The gosāin came. He collected the Hindoos together,
and made pooja. Having anointed a sacred piece of wood[43] with oil and
turmeric, and placed it in a hut, he closed the door; and coming forth,
said: “To show you that I am able to point out the thief, I have now left
a gold ring in front of the idol in that house; go in and worship, every
man of you. Each man must put his hand upon the idol. Let one amongst
you take the ring, I will point out the man.”
The Hindoos looked at him with reverence; they all separately entered
the dwelling, and did as they were ordered. The jāmadār performed the
same ceremony, although he was a Mussulmān. On their appearing before the
gosāin, he desired them all to show their hands, and having examined them
with much attention, he exclaimed, looking at the hands of the jāmadār,
“You are the thief!” The man held up his hands to heaven, exclaiming,
“God is great, and you are a wonderful man! _I_, a Mussulmān, did not
believe in your power; your words are words of truth; I took the ring,
here it is: if it be your pleasure, you can, doubtless, point out the man
who stole the rupees.”
The gosāin then told the people, that unless the money were forthcoming
the next day, he would come and point out the thief. That evening the
jāmadār roamed around the house, calling out in the most dismal voice
imaginable, “You had better put back the rupees, you had better put back
the rupees.” The police came, and wished to carry off Ram Din to prison,
because he was the servant who had put the money by my side. The man
looked at me. “Is it your will? I am a Rajpoot, and shall lose caste; I
have served you faithfully, I am present.”
“Who will be security that you will not run away?” said the barkandāz. I
replied, “_I_ will be his security: Ram Din will remain with us, and when
the magistrate sends for him, I will answer for it he will be present.”
The man’s eyes filled with tears: it was the greatest compliment I could
pay him: he made a deep sālām, saying, “Mem sāhiba! Mem sāhiba!” in an
agitated and grateful tone. The next morning the jāmadār informed me that
a bag was on the top of the wardrobe in my dressing-room, and none of the
servants would touch it. I went to the spot, and desired Ram Din to take
it down.
“This is the cloth that contained the rupees,” said the man, “and it has
never been opened; I know it by a peculiar knot that I always tie.” He
opened the bag, and found the whole of the money.
We had reason to believe one of the under bearers committed the theft.
The Hindoos have such faith in their gosāins, and their influence over
them is so great, they dare not do otherwise than as they are ordered
by the holy men. I got back the 15_l._, and gave 4_l._ to those who had
exerted themselves to find it.
THE GOSĀIN’S TEMPLE.
Just above the Fort of Allahabad, on the banks of the Jumna, close to the
Jāmma Musjid, or large mosque, amongst the ruins of the _ancient_ city of
Prāg, within a Boorj (or Bastion), is an old well, from which the bank
has been washed away by the river, and which now stands within the edge
of the stream.
The well in the centre of the Boorj descends into the Jumna; over it
is built a most peculiar, circular, and singular temple; this and a
small square outer building is the residence of the gosāin, who by his
incantations, made the servants restore the 150 rupees that had been
stolen.
The pillars are peculiar—Ionic—no further ornamental work is visible:
perforated stone fills up the openings above: some have been blocked up:
the Nagree writing in red letters at the foot of the pillar is recent:
several boorj (bastions) beyond this one, which contains the water-gate,
have sunk into the river: there were eight originally, seven of which
are still visible. Accompanied by a gentleman, I went to sketch it, and
asked the gosāin to allow us to see the interior. The holy man made some
difficulty in allowing us to enter; sweet words induced him to open the
door.
“By sweet words and gentleness you may draw an elephant by a hair[44].”
Within was a small room, in which was the gosāin’s bed, and a large green
painted chest, iron clamped, on wheels, which, I suppose, contained his
valuables: it must have been put together in the room, being too large
to have come in through the door-way. In a nitch of the wall was a small
brazen image of Krishna, with a smaller one of Rhada, the latter dressed
in a full red and yellow petticoat, stretched out like a fan, and many
times wider than the height of the idol.
This is the second time I have seen a place consecrated to these images.
The worship is very impure, I am told; and, in spite of the holy
character of the priest, histories are whispered about which account
for the marvellous properties of the seeds of the peepul-tree. Women
principally worship at this shrine.
The circular temple above the well, to which there is a grating, contains
either the gosāin’s money or zenāna, or both: he would not allow us to
take a view of the interior. On the outside, at the foot of the temple,
is a neglected and broken image, in stone, of Varaha, the avatār of
Vishnoo with the head of a boar.
Whilst sketching the temple, we remarked its strong resemblance to the
temple of the Sibyl, and were greatly surprised at its Ionic style of
architecture.
On my return to England, a gentleman, seeing the sketch, said, “You must
have painted from imagination, no such architecture is in the East.” This
remark annoyed me. I defended the truth and faithfulness of my pencil,
and determined, should fate ever carry me back to the ancient city of
Prāg, to pay most particular attention to the architecture, and to
re-sketch the temple. The mystery of its similarity to that of the Sibyl
will be explained hereafter.
I must give a specimen of the natives. I asked the man who has the charge
of the rabbits, why a remarkably handsome buck was missing, and a white
doe was in its place?
The man vowed that “the day being extremely hot, the sun had turned the
black buck white, and had altered the sex also!” I called a chaprāsī,
desired him to pay the man’s wages, deducting the value of the buck, and
turn him out of my service: his penitence and recantation were in vain.
“I wish you would give me a beating, and let me remain in your service,”
said the man. “You may have a beating if you wish it,” said I, “but
unless it changes your sex, you shall not remain in my service.”
“THE DIVER WHO THINKS ON THE JAWS OF THE CROCODILE, WILL NEVER GATHER
PRECIOUS PEARLS[45].”
This saying is very applicable to Europeans in India: the climate is
worse than the jaws of the crocodile; and as for the pearls—when large
appointments, in the hope of attaining which men have been slaving upon
small allowances, fall vacant, the shears are applied, and a reduction of
one-third or more follows. It is rumoured, but upon doubtful evidence,
that the Governor-general and members of Council determined to sacrifice
part of _their_ allowances to contribute to the general exigencies of the
state, but found _they_ were restricted from receiving less by the Act of
Parliament, by which their salaries are fixed. The Governor-general, in
common parlance, is called “the clipper.”
It is to be hoped the Half Batta measure will be abandoned; if it is
insisted upon, the experiment will be somewhat perilous. Let the Board
of Control look at the numbers carried off by the climate, and they must
acknowledge their pay is blood-money. The sipahīs are deserting from
different stations, eight and nine a day, and some regiments are almost
in a state of mutiny. The men desert to Runjeet Singh; and I understand
the officers of many regiments will not dine at the Government-house, and
only make their appearance when obliged by order. Heaven help those poor
fellows who have wives and children to starve on half batta!
[Illustration: A DHURMSĀLĀ BENE MAHADĒO CHAUT.
Sketched on the spot and on Stone by Major Parlby.]
CHAPTER XII.
SKETCHES AT ALLAHABAD.
“THE LAMP BURNS NOT BEFORE THE BLACK SNAKE[46],”
Which, like the Burmese idols, is supposed to carry a bright jewel in its
head.
1829.—The Snake-charmer—Ram Leela—Board of Works—The
Hukāk—Kurand Patthar—Pebbles from the Soane and Cane Rivers—Raj
Ghāt—The Dhrumsāla—The Ginee—Temple of Hŭnoomān, Ram, and
Seeta—Ravuna the Giant—Bene-Māhadēo—The Adansonia—Little Jack
Bunce—Encampment of the Governor-general—Ashes of a Rajah
consigned to the Ganges—Christmas-boxes.
1829, _Oct._—Snakes are very numerous in our garden; the cobra de
capello, and the black snake, whose bite is just as mortal. This morning
I turned over some tiles with my foot, when a cobra I had disturbed
glided into the centre of the heap, where we killed him.
Mohummud said, “Kill snakes, and kill the snake which has two black
lines upon its back, and kill the snake called _abter_, on account of
its small tail; for verily these two kinds of snake blind the eyes as
soon as they are looked at. You must not kill the snakes that live in the
houses, because they are not snakes but a kind of genii. Domestic snakes,
which are genii, must be warned to depart; if they do not, they are to
be killed. The genii are of three kinds, one kind have wings, and fly;
another are snakes and dogs; and the third move about from place to place
like men.”
“But do not hurry in killing them, but say, ‘do not incommode me, if you
do, I shall kill you.’ Then, if it goes away, so much the better; but if
not, kill it, because it is an infidel _genius_.”
“Kill all snakes, except the small white one, which is not poisonous[47].”
Several were in the stable and hen-house. A snake-charmer came, who
offered to fascinate and catch the snakes for me at one rupee a head.
He caught one, for which I gave him a rupee; but as I had it killed, he
never returned—the charm was broken—it was a tame fangless snake, which
he had tried to pass off as the wild one.
We killed three scorpions in the dining-room, of rather large dimensions.
Our friend and neighbour had much compassion on frogs. Many an enormous
bull-frog he rescued alive from the jaws of the snakes he killed in his
garden. The poor frogs lost their defender on his return to England, and
we an excellent friend.
During the Burmese war I had presents made me of seven or eight idols:
one was of gold, several of silver; some of black, some of white marble,
others of bronze. The soldiers in Burmah opened the heads of many of the
large idols, and found jewels within them. I have never disturbed the
“reflecting gems” within the brains of my Burmese gods; they may contain,
for aught I know, “heaps of gold, inestimable jewels,”—there let them
rest.
_Oct. 29th._—We drove to the Parade-ground, to view the celebration of
the Ram Leela festival. Ram the warrior god is particularly revered by
the sipahīs. An annual tamāshā is held in his honour, and that of Seeta
his consort. A figure of Rawan the giant, as large as a windmill, was
erected on the Parade-ground: the interior of the monster was filled with
fireworks. This giant was destroyed by Ram. All sorts of games are played
by the sipahīs, on the Parade. Mock fights and wrestling matches take
place, and fireworks are let off. Two young natives, about ten or twelve
years old, are often attired to represent Ram and Seeta; and men with
long tails figure as the army of monkeys, headed by their leader Hŭnoomān.
_On dit_, that the children who personate Ram and Seeta, the handsomest
they can select, never live more than a year after the festival—for this
I vouch not—it is said they are poisoned.
One ceremony was very remarkable: each native regiment took out its
colours and made pooja to the standards, offering them sweetmeats,
flowers, rice, and pān, as they do to a god! At Cawnpore I saw the men of
the third cavalry riding round the image of the giant, with their colours
flying, after having made pooja to them.
At the conclusion of the tamāshā, the figure of Rawan is blown up by the
conqueror Ram. At the great Mela at Allahabad, I procured a large marble
image of Ram, which came from Jeypore; it is highly gilt and ornamented:
in his left hand is the bow of power, and the quiver full of arrows in
his right: the trident mark adorns his forehead, and on his head is a
crown. See the figure on the left of Ganesh in the frontispiece.
“Ram, the deified hero, was a famous warrior, and a youth of perfect
beauty. He was the happy possessor of the divine bow Danush, which the
giant Ravuna could not bend, and with which he contested for, and won,
the hand of the goddess Seeta. It was ordained, that he only who could
bend this bow, and with it shoot a fish, while revolving on a pole,
through the left eye, not seeing the fish, but its reflection in a pan of
oil, should espouse Seeta. The name of Ram is used beyond the pale of his
own sectarists, in supplication and praise.”
Rám, rám, is a usual salutation, like our good-morrow, between friends
at meeting or parting. It is reverently reiterated at times in aid of
abstraction, and in moments of enthusiasm or distress.
On the birthday of this god the Hindoo merchants in general begin their
year’s accounts; and on this day the gods caused a shower of flowers to
fall from heaven.
“Ravuna, a giant who reigned at Ceylon, having seized Hŭnoomān, ordered
his tail to be set on fire. The enraged monkey, with his burning tail,
leaped from house to house, and set all Lŭnka (Ceylon) on fire; after
finishing which, he came to Seeta, and complained that he could not
extinguish the fire that had kindled on his tail. She directed him to
spit upon it; and he, raising it to his face for this purpose, set his
face on fire. He then complained, that when he arrived at home with such
a black face, all the monkeys would laugh at him. Seeta, to comfort him,
assured him, that all the other monkeys should have black faces also; and
when Hŭnoomān came amongst his friends, he found that, according to the
promise of Seeta, they had all black faces as well as himself.
“Mŭndodŭrēē, the chief wife of Ravuna the giant, whom Ram had killed,
came to Ram weeping; and he, not knowing who she was, gave her this
blessing, that she should never become a widow. Finding his mistake,
having just killed her husband, he ordered Hŭnoomān continually to throw
wood upon the fire, according to a proverb amongst the Hindoos, that as
long as the body of the husband is burning, a woman is not called a widow.
“To this day, therefore, Hŭnoomān keeps laying logs on the fire; and
every time a Hindoo puts his fingers in his ears and hears a sound, he
says he hears the bones of the giant Ravuna burning[48].”
The marks on the foreheads of Ram’s followers very much resemble a
trident.
At the time of death many Hindoos write the name of Ram on the breast
and forehead of the dying person, with earth taken from the banks of the
Ganges; and thence those persons after death, instead of being dragged
to Yamu, the Holy King, the Judge of the Dead, to receive sentence,
immediately ascend to heaven.
The mock fights at the Ram Leela are in remembrance of the time when
Hŭnoomān and his monkeys constructed a bridge from the continent of
India to Ceylon (Lŭnka), over which Ram’s army passed, and rescued the
imprisoned Seeta from the hands of the giant Rawan or Ravuna, who had
carried her off. Seeta then passed through the ordeal of fire, and by her
miraculous incombustibility assured the world of her purity; Ram placed
the mālā, the chaplet of marriage, around her neck, and the monkeys
capered and gambolled with delight.
The white marble figure in the frontispiece to the left of Ganesh
represents Ram, the deified hero, with his bow and quiver. The brass
figure in front of the latter is Hŭnoomān, bearing Ram Seeta on his
shoulders.
THE BOARD OF WORKS.
_Nov._—The cold season is a busy time. Having procured a quantity of teak
timber and toon wood, we established a Board of Works in the verandah,
consisting of five carpenters, two sawyers, two turners, six iron-smiths,
one stone-cutter, and one harness-maker. Most excellent and very handsome
were the dining-tables, sideboard, horseshoe-table, wardrobes, &c., and a
Stanhope made by these men, from our own designs.
The carpenters carve wood extremely well. On my return to England, I
saw and admired a round table in a friend’s drawing-room; “Do you not
remember,” said she with surprise, “you made up that table yourself?”
On looking at it, I recognized the pedestal and claw carved with broad
leaves, copied from a model I made for my carpenter of Ganges mud.
The furniture was of various kinds of wood, as follows:—
Teak sāgūn (tectona grandis) or Indian oak—a fine heavy timber, in colour
resembling oak; strong and good wood. The teak I made use of came from
Ava, and was brought up from the salt-water lake near Calcutta; good
sāgūn was also to be purchased at Cawnpore.
The finest is brought from Java and Ava. I saw _one plank_ of Java teak
which, even when made up, measured five feet six inches in diameter. It
was the top of an oval table. It bears a good polish, and is suited for
tables, wardrobes, and the beds of billiard-tables. In the up-country
the usual price is one rupee per foot when the plank is one inch in
thickness; in Calcutta, the same price when the plank is four inches in
thickness. The _general_ size of the timber brought from Ava is eighteen
inches in breadth.
Sāl, sānkho or sākoo (shorea robusta)—a heavy strong wood, from the
up-country; fit for beams of houses, wardrobes, frames, window-frames,
kitchen-tables, &c. Price, when thirty feet in length by seventeen
inches in breadth, twenty-six rupees; when twenty-one feet in length by
twenty-two in breadth, thirty-two rupees. It is sold cheap at Cawnpore in
September and October.
Shīsham, sissoo or sesoo (dalbergia sissoo)—from the up-country; fit for
tables, chairs, carriage-wheels and bodies; very heavy, takes a good
polish, fine grained. Price, eighteen feet in length by fourteen in
breadth, thirteen rupees; good for bullock-collars; cheap in September.
Toon—a light soft-grained wood, very much resembling mahogany; fit for
tables, chairs, billiard-table frames, book-cases, &c.; reasonable at
Cawnpore.
Soondry—comes from Calcutta; the best wood for shafts and carriage-wheels.
Arnoose, or bastard ebony, also called teenoo—a common timber, found on
the banks of the Jumna; used for firewood; three or four mŭns per rupee.
In the centre of the wood the ebony is found, which is lighter, both in
colour and weight, than the ebony from the hills (abnoos), which is very
heavy, hard, and difficult to cut; also of a good blackness; useful for
handles of seals, chess-men, &c.
Cocoa-nut tree, naryul—from Calcutta; also one of the best for shafts;
the bark is curious; when petrified and polished it is made into
ornaments, brooches, &c.
Sutsaul—something like rosewood; comes from the Nepaul Terāee.
Tindoa—hard, tough, and very good for turning.
Rouswood (rous)—from the hills; extremely delicate and fine grained;
turns beautifully; colour light. I procured rouswood fit for turning in
the jungles near Allahabad.
Neem or neemb (melia azadirachta)—extremely heavy and tough; colour
light—almost white; turns well.
Korieah—Benares toys are made of this wood: it is beautifully white, fine
grained, and delicate; it turns delightfully, and is very light. The toys
are lacquered on the lathe by applying sealing-wax to them; the friction
warms the sealing-wax, and it adheres. See Appendix, No. 11.
Mango-wood, amrā, (spondias mangifera)—fit for common work, out-house
doors and beams, kitchen-tables, &c.
Babul—a very heavy and extremely hard wood (acacia Arabica).
Patang—a red wood, used in colouring cloths.
Lall chundun—a cedar.
Chucrassy—also walnut-wood from the hills.
From the Soane and Cane rivers we procured about half a bushel of
pebbles, consisting of chalcedony, moss-agate, tree and fortification
agate, cornelian, cinnamon-stone, goree (a sort of spar); and from Lucnow
and Agra, bloodstone, lapis-lazuli, jet, petrified cocoa-nut bark,
plum-pudding-stone, fossil-stone, gold-stone, and amethyst.
The tree-agate, or tree-stone, is so called by the natives from the
marks on the surface resembling trees and flowers. In other agates the
marks lie deep in the stone, in these they are all on the surface, and
in grinding and polishing are easily destroyed, unless care be taken not
to go too deep; they reminded me of a stone I saw in England, called
Mocha-stone, which was set in small brilliants.
The pebbles from the Soane river are generally esteemed more than those
of the Cane.
The process of cutting, and grinding, and polishing pebbles is as
follows:—
The pebble is kept firm by being fastened on a board by a bit of lac—not
sealing-wax. It is cut in halves by a small bamboo bow, strung with fine
iron wire; powdered kurand patthar and water are put upon it during the
time. The bow is used by the hand. The natives cut the pebbles by this
simple method wonderfully even.
The Indian lathe for grinding and polishing stones is turned by the
hŭkāk, or stone-cutter, with a long bow in his right hand, whilst with
the left hand he applies the pebble to the wheel.
It has four wheels—three of them are made of kurand patthar: the first
wheel is of coarsely-pounded particles; in the second the particles are
finer; and, in the third, are reduced to a fine powder. The wheels are
merely kurand patthar mixed with glue, and formed into a large broad
flat cake; in the centre a hole is cut to allow their being put upon the
lathe. The pebble having been cut by the stone-cutter, is now ready for
grinding, which is performed by pressing it against the first wheel with
the right hand, and using water and pounded kurand patthar at the same
time, until the most uneven parts on the surface are removed; the second
wheel is then put on, and the surface a little more reduced; after which
the third wheel is used, and the stone becomes perfectly even: the kurand
patthar, in powder, and water, is used with all the three wheels.
It is now to be polished, which is done upon a wooden wheel. The kurand
patthar is but very little known to stone-cutters and cutlers in England;
for a further account of it, see Appendix, No. 12.
The pebbles, bloodstone, lapis-lazuli, and agates which I had cut and
polished for bracelets, brooches, and snuff-boxes, were beautiful, and
did honour to the hŭkāk.
During the time of the burra mela (great fair) at Prāg, natives used
to come round to the houses of the gentry with boxes full of polished
pebbles for sale—in sets for necklaces and bracelets, and large stones
for snuff-boxes.
Raj Ghāt is on the banks of the Ganges, about a mile and a half above the
Fort of Allahabad, and the village of Daragunge extends along the side
of the Mahratta Bund above for some distance. To the right of the spot
where travellers land on coming from Benares is a fine building, called
a dhrumsālā, or place to distribute alms; it is dedicated to a form of
Māhadēo, which stands in the shiwālā, or little temple, above: the form
of this octagonal temple, as well as that of a similar one, which stands
at the other side of the building, is very beautiful. On the left are
the remains of a very large and curious old well. “Why is a woman like a
Hindoo temple[49]?”
After sketching this dhrumsālā, we ascended the bank to Daragunge, to see
the inner court, and found it filled with elephants, tattoos, cows, and
natives. It is used as a sarāe, or abode for travellers. I saw there a
most beautiful and exceedingly small gynee (a dwarf cow), with two bars
of silver round each of her little legs; she looked so pretty, and was
quite tame. Through the doorways of this court you look into the little
octagonal temples, and, through their arches, on a fine expanse of the
Ganges which flows below.
You cannot roam in India as in Europe, or go into places crowded
with natives, without a gentleman; they think it so incorrect and so
marvellous, that they collect in crowds to see a beebee sāhiba who is
indecent enough to appear unveiled. A riding-habit and hat, also, creates
much surprise in unfrequented bazārs, where such a thing is a novelty.
We proceeded through the bustee (village) on foot, and up a dirty alley,
through which I could scarcely pass, to the Temple of Hŭnoomān, the
black-faced and deified monkey, and found there an enormous image of
the god painted red and white, and made either of mud or stone. A great
number of worshippers were present. The bearers hold Hŭnoomān in the
greatest reverence.
In another apartment were forty or fifty large and small figures,
representing Ram and Seeta his consort, with his brother Lutchman,
Hŭnoomān, and all his army of monkeys. Seeta was carried off by the giant
Ravuna, Hŭnoomān fought for and restored her to Ram, therefore they are
worshipped together.
These figures were decorated with coloured cloth and tinsel, much in the
same manner in which the saints are clothed in the churches in France. I
had never but once before seen idols, in India, tricked out after this
fashion. Many lamps were burning before the shrine. We were allowed to
behold them from the door, but not to enter the apartment.
The evening was very fine; my companion, as well as myself, enjoyed
rambling about and exploring such queer, curious, and out-of-the-way
places.
A DHRUMSĀLĀ BĒNE MĀHADĒO GHĀT.
We descended to the side of the Ganges, and walked on until we came to
the Ghāt of Bene-Māhadēo which is represented in the sketch, where there
is another dhrumsālā. This building is also dedicated to Shivŭ; the
mystical symbol is in the small temple above. Under the arches in the
lower part, by the side of the Ganges, is an enormous figure of Ganeshŭ;
many worshippers were present, who were pouring oil and Ganges water over
the image, with rice and flowers, and hanging chaplets of flowers around
his neck. The idol was dripping with oil.
Above the god, over the arch, three long thin bamboos were stuck up, each
bearing the red flag of a fakīr, adding greatly to the picturesque beauty
of the scene. These flags denoted that three holy men had there taken up
their abode for a time. This temple is very picturesque, and the fine
trees around it add to its beauty.
We ascended the banks, and entered the dhrumsālā. It fronts the Ganges,
and a high wall around the other three sides separates it from the bazār.
We entered by a gateway of three arches. The court in the interior
contained three long buildings supported on arches, and two octagonal
temples, one at each end. The front facing the Ganges had no wall, being
built on the edge of a high cliff. In the arched building to the right,
in which were many apartments, we found a number of devotees singing and
making a great religious noise with small brazen cymbals.
ADANSONIA DIGITATA.
_Dec. 5th._—The gunpowder agency at Papamhow has been done away with by
the government, and our friend has quitted us for England. I must not
take leave of Papamhow without mentioning the remarkable trees in the
grounds. The natives call them veläitee imlee. They are enormous trees,
natives of Africa. Adansonia digitata, from Michel Adanson, a French
botanist. M. G. Mollien thus speaks of this tree—the boabab, Ethiopian
sour-gourd, or monkeys’-meat tree—in his travels in Africa: “This was
the first time that I saw the boabab, that enormous tree which has been
described by Adanson, and which bears his name ‘Adansonia.’ I measured
one, and found it to be forty feet in circumference. This majestic
mass is the only monument of antiquity to be met with in Africa. To
the negroes the boabab is perhaps the most valuable of vegetables. Its
leaves are used for leaven, its bark furnishes indestructible cordage,
and the bees form their hives in the cavities of its trunk. The negroes,
too, often shelter themselves from storms in its time-worn caverns. The
boabab is indisputably the monarch of African trees.” It is also called
monkeys’-bread. Several measured by Adanson were from sixty-five to
seventy-eight feet in circumference, but not extraordinarily high. The
bark furnishes a coarse thread, used in Africa for cloth and ropes; the
small leaves are used as bread in times of scarcity, and the large for
covering their houses, or, by burning, for the manufacture of soap.
[Illustration: ADANSONIA DIGITATA.
On Stone by Major Parlby
فاني پارکس]
This tree may be styled the Jugunnāth of the forest, from the style in
which it grows; its large branches terminating in an abrupt end, from
which the small branches are given off.
Ropes made of the boabab-tree are indestructible; there is a saying,
“As secure as an elephant bound with a boabab rope.” Two of these fine
trees are still standing in the grounds, there were originally three;
the sketch was taken in January, 1827. One of the trees fell down in the
rains of that year, on the day Lord Amherst arrived at Allahabad on his
return from the hills; it measured thirty-five feet in circumference, and
we were surprised to find it had scarcely any roots. It did not fall from
age, or from the wind, but because the branches on one side were much
heavier than those on the other. It was so full of juicy sap that, when
the tree was cut, the sap ran out like water, and the agent preserved
some of it in bottles. The wood was woolly, spongy, of little or no use
as timber, and useless even as firewood—it would not burn.
Another of these trees, which measured thirty-seven feet in
circumference, is still in the grounds, which are on the banks of the
Ganges.
The tree that fell was supposed by the natives to be 1100 years old. It
is only wonderful, from the short distance the roots penetrated into the
ground, it had not long ago been laid prostrate by a tūfān. These trees
are natives of Senegal, and are known in central India; but those at
Papamhow are the only ones on our side the country.
Adanson supposed this tree to exceed almost any other in longevity.
He inferred that the one he measured, and found to be thirty feet in
diameter, had attained the age of 5150 years. Having made an incision
to a certain depth of the stem, he first counted 300 rings of annual
growth, and observed what thickness the tree had gained in that period.
The average rate of growth of younger trees of the same species was then
ascertained, and the calculation was made according to the supposed mean
rate of increase.
Had we known the proverb at this time, we would have made ropes of its
bark. On the very topmost bough of one of the trees a vulture had built
its nest, and appeared to have made the boabab its city of refuge; the
aerie was filled annually.
The flower is large, beautiful, and smells like a ripe apple; the fruit
small and granular; the leaves large and fine. It is said there are
several species of this tree in Africa, one of which yields a large fruit.
During the annual fair held in the grounds at Papamhow in the month of
August, the gaily dressed natives congregated under the widely spreading
branches of the Adansonia, increased the picturesque beauty of the trees.
Let me record the death of little Jack Bunce, my pet squirrel. On our
arrival at Prāg I went into the stable to see a sick horse, and, hearing
a chirping noise, looked up, and saw a young squirrel, which, having
escaped from its nest, was in great perplexity on its first expedition
from home. I caught it. Its eyes were open; but it could not run very
fast. For the first week it lived either in my husband’s pocket or on my
shoulder; if alarmed, it took refuge with him. It became very tame, and
never ran away. A gay house with two rooms was built for it. At first it
drank milk and ate sweetmeats (pera); as it grew older it had bread,
grain, milk, and whatever it pleased during meals, at which time it would
quit my shoulder for the table. We caught several young ones, and put
them into Jack’s cage; he was pleased, and tended them like a little old
nurse; but they grew very wild, and we let them go, with the exception
of one little female whom Jack reared as his helpmate, and appeared very
fond of her; she was very wild, and would not allow me to touch her. They
went with me to Lucnow. One night I heard Jack and his wife quarrelling
violently—she bit off his beautiful long tail, and Jack killed her for
it: the wretches also ate their young one. Jack returned with me, and, to
complete his education, I took him to the holy city of Benares, that he
might gain absolution for his little improprieties. Never was there so
travelled a squirrel! He lived with us three years, always fat, sleek,
and merry; and very fond of us, chirping and running to us when we called
him; at last he fell ill, and died quickly. Sometimes he would run off
into the garden, but when I called him would return, run up my gown to my
shoulder, and give a shrill peculiar whistle; he was the largest of the
kind I ever saw, and the three streaks down his back were beautiful. Poor
little Jack! you were a nice and sensible little animal! The males are
more courageous, and more easily tamed, than the females.
At this time the plain in front of the fort, by the avenue on the side of
the Jumna, was exceedingly picturesque. It was covered by an encampment
awaiting the arrival of the Governor-general. There were assembled 200
elephants, 1000 camels, horses and hackeries, servants and natives
without number. A double set of new tents for the Governor-general were
pitched on the plain; the tents which were new the year before, and
which cost a lac, having been discarded. These new tents, the elephants,
camels, horses, and thousands of servants, will cost the Company more
than half-batta saves in the course of a year.
News have just arrived that the Directors have rendered all this
encampment useless, by sending orders to Lord William Bentinck not to
proceed up the country at _their_ expense; in consequence Lord William
has discharged the people. I am glad they are going away. Last night
a friend of ours, who is in tents in our grounds, had his gun and
dressing-case stolen, no doubt by thieves from the encampment.
_20th._—The ashes of a rajah were brought to Prāg this morning to be
thrown into the Ganges at the holy junction; they were accompanied by the
servants of the rajah, bearing presents to be given, as is the custom, to
the Brahmans, amongst which were two remarkably fine Persian horses. One
of these horses, a flea-bitten grey from Bokhara, was bought by us from
the Brahman to whom it had been presented. On Christmas-day my husband
gave me this horse, making my own particular riding-stud amount to a fair
number—Mootee, Black Poney, Trelawny, Bokhara. Are ladies in England
as fond of their horses as I am? They cannot make pets of them in that
country as we can in India.
_25th._—How many presents I received this day—and such odd ones—the
Bokhara grey, a sketch of Lord William Bentinck, Martin’s Deluge, a
proof-print, a bag of walnuts, a diamond ring, a hill-shawl, two jars
of jam, and two bottles of hill-honey! All farewell-gifts from friends
bound to England. We spent the evening around the horseshoe-table, the
coal fire blazing brightly as we cracked the hill-walnuts and enjoyed
the society of our friends. Of all the offerings of that day, the most
welcome was a packet of letters from the beloved and absent ones in
England. “A letter is half an interview[50].”
[Illustration: A KUTCHERRY.
C. D’Oyly, delᵗ.
On Stone by Major Parlby.]
CHAPTER XIII.
REMOVAL TO CAWNPORE.—CONFESSIONS OF A THUG.
“WHAT VARIETY OF HERBS SOEVER ARE SHUFFLED TOGETHER IN THE DISH, YET THE
WHOLE MASS IS SWALLOWED UP IN ONE NAME OF _sallet_. IN LIKE MANNER I WILL
MAKE A HODGE-PODGE OF DIFFERING ARTICLES.”
1830.—Removal to Cawnpore—Failure of Messrs. Palmer and Co.—An
Appointment at Cawnpore—Removal from Allahabad—The Mowa
Tree—Futtehpore—Dead Body in a Well—The Kutcherry—Confessions
of a Thug.
_Jan. 1830._—The failure of Messrs. Palmer and Co., early in this month,
caused the greatest consternation in India, and fell most severely on
the widows and orphans of military men, who, having left their little
portions in Palmer’s house, had returned to England.
_9th._—My husband gave over charge of his office to Mr. N⸺, who had
returned from the Cape, and we began to speculate as to our destiny.
_March 1st._—My husband, having applied to remain up the country,
was informed he might proceed to Cawnpore as acting-collector
for eight months, on condition that he consented to give up the
deputation-allowance, to which he was entitled by the rules of the Civil
Service. The conditions were hard, although offered as a personal favour,
and were accepted in preference to returning to Calcutta.
Cawnpore, 150 miles from Allahabad, and 50 from Lucnow, a large station,
is on a bleak, dreary, sandy, dusty, treeless plain, cut into ravines by
torrents of rain; if possible, the place is considered hotter than Prāg.
Like the patriarchs of old we travelled with our flocks and herds, or,
rather, we sent them on in advance, and followed dāk.
_March 27th._—We quitted Allahabad, and drove the first stage to
Allumchund, where we were kindly received by friends. At this place I
first remarked the mowa-tree (bassia longifolia). The fruit was falling,
and the natives were collecting it to make bazār srāb (ardent spirits).
The fruit, which is white, only falls during the day-time; when dried,
it is given to cows as cheap food—from it the butter takes a fine yellow
colour.
In the evening we proceeded dāk, and arrived the next morning at the
house of the judge of Futtehpore. Just before entering his compound,
(grounds around a house,) I stopped my palanquin, and desired a bearer to
draw me a lota full of water from a well at the road side. The man took
the brass vessel, which was fastened to a very long string, and threw it
into the well; then drawing it up, he poured the contents on the ground,
saying, “A thuggee has been committed, you cannot drink that water. Did
you not hear the lota—bump—bump upon a dead body in the well[51]?” I
reported the circumstance on my arrival, and not having before heard of
the Thugs, was very much interested in the following account of “The
Confessions of a Thug.”
These fellows, it appears, roam about the country in gangs, strangling
people for their money; it is their only employment. During the three
weeks of my stay at Futtehpore, the bodies of three men were found in
the neighbouring wells—_thugged_, that is, strangled. Some years ago
the Thugs were in great force, but they were well looked after by the
police, and a _thuggee_ was seldom committed: within a few months they
have become very daring, especially around Cawnpore, Humeerpore, and
Futtehpore.
A KUTCHERRY OR KACHAHRĪ.
The sketch represents the examination of a criminal before the judge of
the station, who is taking notes. The fat moonshee on his right hand
is reading the deposition, and the native officers of the court are in
attendance. The scene of the kachahrī, or court of justice, is a room
in the house of the magistrate. The duffadār stooping by the side of
the table is putting the seal of office to the paper that will consign
the criminal for trial to the suddur dewani. The hooqŭ bārdar with his
snow-white beard, standing behind his master’s chair, has just brought
a fresh chilam for the hooqŭ, which the gentleman has laid aside during
the examination of the Thug. The criminal, who appears to have suffered
from a blow on the head from one of those iron shod lātees, of which a
description is given in the next chapter, is attempting to prove his
innocence; and the man to the right, who was speaking in his defence to
the judge, has stopped in the midst of his sentence, and is cocking his
ear to catch the words of the defendant. A sketch of the lātee is in the
plate entitled “The Thug’s Dice,” Fig. 2.
Copy of “The Confessions of a Thug,” from a circular dated August, 1829,
sent by the Governor-general to the judges of the different stations on
this subject. The reason for the Governor-general sending this circular
to all the judges and magistrates, was to induce them to be on the alert
after Thugs, in consequence of a party of them having been seized up the
country by Captain Borthwick, four of whom turned evidence against the
others. They were examined separately, and their confessions compared.
The following is the confession and statement of the principal witness:—
“My father was a cultivator of land in Buraicha and other neighbouring
villages, and I followed the same occupation until I entered my thirtieth
year, when I joined the Thugs, with whom I have been more or less
connected ever since, a period of upwards of thirty years.
“During this time, however, I have not accompanied them on every
excursion; but, on the contrary, for intervals of two, three, and even
six years, have remained at home and earned a subsistence by cultivating
land, so that I have been engaged in only six predatory excursions:
four under a leader, since dead, called Oo-dey Singh, and two under my
present chief and fellow-prisoner, Mokhun Jemadar.
“Whilst residing at home during the last interval alluded to, I was
apprehended on suspicion of being a Thug, but the proofs I adduced of
having been for so many years employed in husbandry were the means which
restored me to liberty.
“By this event, however, my circumstances became so greatly embarrassed,
that I was forced to go to Salany to borrow money from Mokhun Jemadar,
who I knew had generally some at command; but he would not agree to
relieve my wants except on condition of my engaging to bring my family to
Salany and becoming one of his gang. These conditions I was forced by my
destitute state to comply with, and I accordingly accompanied him in his
last two excursions.
“Oo-dey Singh my former leader was, at the period of my joining his
gang, beyond the prime of life, although, at the same time, active and
enterprising; but gradually becoming unfit for the exertion required of
him by his situation, and his son Roman being seized, with other Thugs,
and cast into prison at Jubbalpore, he abandoned his former course of
life, and shortly after died.
“At the time I was serving under Oo-dey Singh, tranquillity had not been
established throughout the country, and our excursions were neither
carried to so great a distance, nor were they so lucrative or certain as
they have since been; for in those days travellers, particularly those
possessed of much property, seldom ventured from one place to another
unless in large parties, or under a strong escort; and we ourselves
held the Pindaries and other armed plunderers in as much dread as other
travellers.
“About three months after I had joined Mokhun’s gang, which consisted
of forty men, we set out from Bundelkund for the Dekkun, this was in
the month of Phagoon Summet, 1883 (about March, 1826). We proceeded by
regular stages, and crossed the Nerbudda at the Chepanair Ghāt, where we
fell in with Chotee Jamadar (a Brahman), who joined us with his gang, the
strength of which was about the same as our own.
“We then continued our course towards Mallygaow, and at Thokur, near that
cantoonment, celebrated the Hooly; after which we resumed our route and
reached Mallygaow, where we struck off by the Nassuk road, intending to
turn from Nassuk to Poona and Aurungabad.
“After proceeding a coss or two on this road we met a relation of
Mokhun’s, belonging to Oomrao and Ruttyram’s gangs, who informed us
that these two leaders with their gangs were near at hand on the Poona
road, engaged in the pursuit of some angriahs with treasure. It was
proposed that Mokhun should join them with some of his men, in order to
be entitled to a share of the spoil. Mokhun at first thought of going
himself, but recollecting that Oomrao and himself were not on good terms,
he sent twenty-five men with Chotee Jamadar. On the day following we
heard the business was effected, and that they intended to proceed with
Oomrao and Ruttyram to Bhoorampore, at which place they requested us to
meet them. We accordingly proceeded to that quarter, and found Chotee
Jemadar and his party at Bhoorampore, Oomrao and Ruttyram having returned
to their homes.
“Here we learnt that the angriahs had been attacked and murdered near
Koker (the place where we had celebrated the Hooly), and that no less
a sum than 22,000 rupees was found on their persons in gold, bullion,
mohurs, and pootlies. Of this 6000 rupees had been received as the share
of our two gangs, and was disposed of in the following manner.
“Mokhun received one-third for himself and gang, a third was given
to Chotee Jamadar for himself and his gang, and the remainder was
reserved for the mutual expenses of the two gangs. Mokhun and Chotee
despatched the two-thirds above mentioned to their homes: that sent
by the latter reached its destination safely; but one of Mokhun’s men
in charge of our share having got drunk at Jansy, blabbed that he was
a Thug, and returning with others with a large amount of treasure; he
was consequently seized by the sirdar of the place, and the money taken
from him. We now quitted Bhoorampore, and proceeded to Aurungabad, but,
meeting with little or no success, we returned by Dhoolia and Bhopaul to
Bundelcund, and reached our several homes before the rains set in. Our
next excursion was towards Guzerat, but in this nothing occurred worthy
of note.
“I have never, during my connexion with the Thugs, known a single
instance of their committing a robbery without the previous destruction
of life, which is almost invariably accomplished by strangulation. This
is effected either by means of a roomal (handkerchief) or shred of cloth
well twisted and wetted, or merely by the hands, though the latter is
rarely practised, and only had recourse to from accidental failure in the
former and usual mode.
“A preconcerted signal being given, the victim or victims are instantly
overpowered, and death, either by the roomal or hands, is the act of a
moment. In perpetrating murder it is an invariable rule with the Thugs
never, if possible, to spill the blood of their victims, in order that
no traces of murder may appear, to awaken suspicion of the deed in the
minds of those who may happen to pass the spot, and detection be the
consequence. In the hurry in which it is sometimes necessary to dispose
of the bodies, holes cannot be dug sufficiently large to contain them
in an entire state, particularly when the number of them is great; the
bodies are then cut in pieces and packed therein.
“When these holes are near the road side, and especially in an exposed
spot, it is usual, after covering them with earth, to burn fires over
them, to do away with the appearance of the earth having been newly
turned. Murders, in the manner just described, are perpetrated as
frequently, and with equal facility and certainty, whilst the victims
are walking along the road, as when they have been enticed to our places
of encampment, and, unconscious of what is to befal them, are sitting
amongst us with every thing carefully and leisurely arranged for their
destruction.
“These murders frequently take place near villages where we encamp, and
usually during twilight; and always, whilst the business is going on, the
hand-drum is beaten and singing commenced, to drown any noise that might
be made by the victims.
“The several persons actually engaged commence their operations
simultaneously at a preconcerted signal given.
“The signal is an arbitrary one; generally a common, coarse expression
is used, not likely to strike the attention of the victims, such as,
‘Tumbākoo lao,’ (bring tobacco).
“I have never seen the phansy (or noose) made of cord employed for
strangling, though I am fully aware of the general supposition, that it
is with it that we strangle people; but if such has ever been employed,
which I greatly doubt, it has long since been laid aside, for the obvious
reason, that if a Thug were seized having it about his person, it would
inevitably lead to his detection.
“A direct understanding with the local authorities in Bundelcund is
constantly kept up by Oomrao, Mokhun, and all the other leaders and
jāmadārs, who on their return from their excursions reside in that part
of the country, and these authorities are conciliated and their favour
gained by suitable presents.
“Assistance and support from the English authorities, being likewise
indispensable, are obtained through artifice. This is effected by means
of their emissaries, who, by misrepresentation and falsehood, frequently
contrive to extricate them from the difficulties in which persons of our
habits are constantly involved. A relation of Oomrao’s, Motee by name,
and Lala Hajain, an inhabitant of Secundra, render important services in
this way. Motee, who was himself a Thug formerly, has for some years past
discontinued going on predatory excursions. He first brought himself into
notice with European gentlemen by informing against a gang, which was
seized in consequence, and confined at Jubbulpore, where the greater part
still remain.
“Since then Motee has advanced in favour with these gentlemen, who are
led to suppose he acts as a check upon the Thugs and other plunderers; at
least, he persuades us that such is the case, the consequence of which
is, that he exercises great influence over us; making us pay well for his
connivance, and the good offices he no doubt frequently performs in our
behalf.
“He principally exerts himself in protecting and assisting Oomrao,
Ruttyram, Hera Mandeen, and their gangs.
“Lala Hajain, by means of representations to different persons of his
acquaintance in the adālut at Cawnpore, renders great assistance to
Mokhun in getting him through matters of difficulty. The latter, after
his return to Bundelcund from his last excursion but one, when he heard
the mishap which had befallen the share of the plunder sent by him to
Boorampore, had recourse, as was usual with him, to his patron Lala
Hajain. Lala lost no time in waiting on his friend Madee Moonshee, at
Cawnpore, to whom he represented matters in such a light, that the
moonshee wrote himself, or had instructions sent by his superiors to
the Tausy Rajah, intimating that, it having been made known that he,
the Rajah, had seized four travellers of respectable and inoffensive
character passing through his territories, and plundered them of their
property—he was directed to restore them to liberty, with whatever
property he had taken from them.
“A day or two before the receipt of the letter containing this order,
the Rajah had released Mokhun’s men, having first obtained from them an
acquittance of the money he had taken; but now, thinking that unless he
could prove the men to be Thugs, and that their true characters had been
misrepresented, he should get a bad name with Europeans, he immediately
sent after them, and had them again apprehended. What became of these men
afterwards I have never been able to learn.
“Besides Lala Hajain, who manages matters favourably for him through
his acquaintance at the courts and kutcherries at Cawnpore, Etaweh,
Humeerpore, Auria, and Mynpoor, Mokhun has a great friend and supporter
in the Tauzie Vakeel, Gunesh Lall, who resides at Humeerporah.
“Oomrao may have other patrons besides his relation Motee, who watches
over his interests principally at Jubbulpore. Makay Sahib, at Kytah, is
a great friend of Motee’s, and it was from him that the English pass,
which Oomrao showed the horsemen when we were apprehended at Dekhola, was
obtained.
“Passing through a country in so numerous a body as our gangs sometimes
form, is certainly calculated to awaken suspicion, but when this happens,
it is always lulled to rest by our being all prepared with the same story
or explanation.
“Few of us carry arms, indeed, amongst fifteen or twenty persons not more
than two or three swords may be found.
“When Thugs, though strangers to each other, meet, there is something
in their manner which discovers itself; and, to make ‘assurance doubly
sure,’ one exclaims ‘Alee khan!’ which being repeated by the other party,
recognition takes place, but is never followed by a disclosure of past
acts.
“In the division of plunder the jāmadārs receive seven and a half per
cent., besides sharing equally with the rest of the gang; but, before any
division is made, a certain portion is devoted to Bhawānī, our tutelar
deity. This applies only to money in gold or silver; for when the plunder
consists of diamonds and pearls, the leader draws blood from his hand,
and having sprinkled a little over them, the sanction of the goddess to
a division is thereby obtained without any other alienation. But the
omission of this ceremony, or neglecting, when success attends us, to
propitiate a continuance of Bhawānī’s favour by laying aside a part of
our acquisitions for her service, would, we firmly believe, bring heavy
misfortune upon us.
“The office of strangler is never allowed to be self-assumed, but is
conferred with due ceremony, after the fitness of the candidate in point
of firmness, activity, and bodily strength, has been ascertained, and
a sufficient degree of expertness in the use of the roomal has been
acquired by long sham practice amongst ourselves.
“When thus qualified, the person on whom the office is to be conferred
proceeds to the fields, conducted by his gooroo (spiritual guide),
previously selected, who carries with him the roomal (or handkerchief),
and anxiously looking out for some favourable omen, such as the chirping
of certain birds, or their flight past the right hand, knots the roomal
at each end the moment that either occurs, and delivers it to the
candidate, imploring success upon him.
“After this they return, when the ceremony is closed by a feast,
or distribution of sweetmeats. The seniors only confer this office,
generally old Thugs held in some estimation, but who from infirmity or
age have ceased to accompany the gangs in their expeditions, and whose
chief support is received from the voluntary contributions of those on
whom they have conferred the privilege of using the roomal.
“Certain terms, known to ourselves alone, are made use of to distinguish
certain circumstances, events, &c., connected with our proceedings: viz.
The persons whose office it is to strangle the victims are called
_Luddya_, also _Bullod_.
Those who dig the graves or holes, _Lucka_.
Those who carry away the bodies, _Gutnee Walow_.
A scout or spy, _Tulha_.
A traveller on whom designs are formed, _Betoo_.
If a Musulmān, _Sultan Betoo_.
If a Hindoo, _Bundoo Betoo_.
A murder committed at the halting-place or encampment-ground, _Topa_.
A murder committed whilst the victims are walking along the road—if
during the day, _Phoolkee_; if during the night, _Kootul_.
The spot where the bodies are buried, _Kurwa_.
The spot where the murder is committed, _Balee_.
A female victim, _Ecmud_.
A child victim, _Chumota_.
Horse, _Poornkna_ or _Pootra_.
Bullock, _Subba_.
Gold, _Sirya_.
Sword, _Lumberee_.
Silver or rupee, _Peeky_.
Matchlock, _Puttakee_.
Gold mohurs, _Tandya_.
Turban, _Kassee_.
A ring, _Pulbya_.
Dhotee, _Kurdhunny_.
Pearls, _Punnyara_.
Diamonds, _Kukreya_.
A knife, _Booky_.
The roomal with which people are strangled, _Phyloo_ and _roomal_.
If one person is strangled, it is called _Eloo_.
If two persons are strangled, it is called _Beetsee_.
If three ... _Singod_.
If four ... _Bhurra_.
If five ... _Puckrao_.
If six ... _Chutroo_, _&c._
“These terms are used by the Thugs in all parts of the country. The
numerals exclusively apply to travellers, and are used to denote the
number that fall into the hands of detached parties.”
This is the end of the “Thug’s Confession.”
The other men, on their examination, acknowledged having murdered a
bearer, on whom they found four rupees. They also met with twelve
seapoys; eight of the soldiers took one road, and the other four another.
The Thugs, therefore, divided into two parties, overtook the seapoys, and
killed them all.
One Thug said, that on a certain day eleven men were killed and buried.
The other Thug said, that on the same day only seven were strangled: on
re-examination he replied, “Yes, it is true I only mentioned seven—there
might have been eleven, or more, I cannot remember; we strangled people
so constantly, that I took little account of the numbers buried, I only
know on that day about seven or eleven were buried.”
The Thugs never attack Europeans.
CHAPTER XIV.
RESIDENCE AT CAWNPORE.
1830.—The iron-shod lāthī—Coins of Sekunder al Sāni—Hindostanī
Song—The first Thermantidote—Dāk to Cawnpore—The
Barkandāz—The Station Sand-storm—Indian method of washing the
hair—Pukka houses and bungalows—The Ayha’s revenge—Horses
poisoned—The Isle of France—The visionary old man—Influence
of women in India—Gambling—Eating the air—The Ayha’s
trowsers—Darzees—Refuge of the distressed—Signet-rings—The
Durwān—Ganges water—Small-pox—Grass-cutters—Beauty of a night
in India—Forgery—Qui hy?—Winged ants and bugs—The moon—A
set-to—Revenge of a sā’īs—Soldiers in hospital—Arrak—The
Chārpāī—A new servant—Unpopularity of the Governor-general.
_1830, March._—The natives use a very dangerous weapon, which they have
been forbidden by the Government to carry. I took one as a curiosity,
which had been seized on a man in a fight in a village. It is a very
heavy lāthī, a solid male bamboo, five feet five inches long, headed
with iron in a most formidable manner. The man was brought before the
judge for murder, and this lāthī was the weapon with which two men were
supposed to have lost their lives. There are six jagged semicircular
irons at the top, each two inches in length, one in height; and it is
shod with iron bands sixteen inches deep from the top; diameter of the
iron ornament on the top, six inches. Sticks headed with brass put on in
the same fashion, are often carried by the native servants for protection
when returning to their homes at night[52].
During my stay at the house of the judge at Futtehpore, he allowed me
to purchase some coins from the office, which are very curious. I took
four of them; they are of fine silver, rather larger and heavier than the
common rupee. About 125 of these coins were found by some children in a
field five miles from Kurrah, in _August_, 1829, buried in an earthen
pot. The letters are in the Arabic character, and the date corresponds
with A.D. 1313, being 516 years ago. The greater part of the coins are
perfectly bright, and look quite new; between the letters, the spaces are
filled with the fine white sand in which they were buried.
On one side of the coin is written in Arabic,—fig 2,
“Sekunder al Sāni[53], illuminating the state, Commander of
the Faithful.”
On the other side,—fig. 1,
“The mighty Sultan, glory of the world and of religion,
The victorious Mahmood Shāh, the Imperial.”
Round the edge of the coin is written,—fig. 3,
“This silver deposited in a ditch in the year 3 and 10 and 700.”
I brought the coins to England. The above translation of the Arabic is by
the munshī of the office. At the bottom of the plate entitled “Hindostanī
Song,” is a copy of the Arabic inscription, written from the coins by the
same munshī[54].
The Hindostanī song, written in the Persian character, may amuse the dear
friends around the hearth of my childhood’s home; and the translation
into Hindostanī is annexed, lest errors may have occurred either in the
written character or in putting it on stone: the oriental scholar is
requested to draw the veil of kindness over any incorrectness in the
Persian caligraphy of a poor hàjī in search of the picturesque.
HINDOSTANI SONG.
Transcriber’s Note: In the image, the second word of the first
line appears as حان. In the transcription, it has been corrected
to جان.
[Illustration:
ميري جان کہيں ديکھا کمپني نشان
بانکي ليک نے مار ليو ہندوستان
ميري جان کہيں ديکھا کمپني نشان
لال لال کورتي قوي جوان
ہاتھ ميں پتھرکلا پيٹھ پر توسدان
ميري جان کہيں ديکھا کمپني نشان
آگے آگے پلٹن پيچھے پيچھے سوار
توپ کي دنکار سے بھاگے ہندو مسلمان
ميري جان کہيں ديکھا کمپني نشان
دس دس کمپني جن ميں گورے گورے کپتان
گڈامي فير بولتے نکل جاوے اوسان
ميري جان کہيں ديکھا کمپني نشان
HINDOSTĀNI SONG. فاني پارکس
SEKUNDER AL SANI
1
السلطان الاعظم
علاء الدنيا والدين
ابو المظفر محمد شاہ
السلطان
2
سکندر الثاني
منير الخلافة ناصر
امير المومنين
3
هذه الفضة مجفرة رهين سنة ثلاث عشر و سبعمائة]
“Mere jan khyn dekha Company neshān
Bankee Leek ne marlēō Hindostān
Mere jan khyn dekha Company neshān.
Lall, lall kourtee koēē jawān
Hart min Putter kullee, pet per tosdān
Mere jan khyn dekha Company neshān.
Agi, agi, Pultān, peche peche sowār
Top ke dunkar se baghe Hindoo Musulmān
Mere jan khyn dekha Company neshān.
Dūs dus Company jin min goree goree Captān
Godamee fire bolte, nikul jaōē aōūsān
Mere jan khyn dekha Company neshān.”
_March 29th._—My husband proceeded dāk to Cawnpore, to take charge of
his appointment and to engage a house, leaving me with my friends. On
one stage of the road he had such a set of coolies, instead of bearers,
to his pālkee, that they could not continue to carry it—at last, setting
it down, they all ran away, and he had to wait six hours on the road
until other bearers came: as this happened during the night, it was of no
further consequence than making the latter part of his dāk very hot, as
he did not reach his destination until 11 A.M. The bearers on this road
are proverbially bad.
Here I saw the first thermantidote, and took a sketch of it, in order to
make one for myself. Here, also, I saw the first alligator, a snub-nosed
fellow, which was caught in the Jumna, and sent up on a chārpāī. Mr. W⸺
had the kindness to give me skulls of alligators, crocodiles, hyenas, and
tigers beautifully prepared, to add to my cabinet of curiosities.
Collecting Persian and Hindostanī proverbs and sayings, and having them
cut on seals, was another of my amusements.
_April 19th._—This day brought a letter, saying a good bungalow had at
length been procured, and I started dāk the next day. The judge, that I
might meet with no adventures on the road, gave me a guard, which was
relieved at the different chaukees, police stations.
[Illustration: A BARKANDĀZ.
فاني پارکس]
A barkandāz, or policeman, and two chaukidārs (watchmen) ran by the side
of my palanquin all the way; in consequence I was not detained one
moment more than necessary on the road. One of the barkandāz was armed
with _two_ swords and a great bamboo!
THE BARKANDĀZ.
A man of this description is too picturesque a personage to be omitted.
The annexed portrait was taken by S. Mahumud Ameer; it represents a
policeman in Calcutta with his sword, shield, and small-arms: the style
of the turban and the dress altogether is remarkable; on the leathern
band across his shoulder is the chaprās, or badge of the station to which
he belongs.
The shield is generally of black leather adorned with brass knobs. Native
gentlemen have shields well painted, sometimes bearing the portrait of
some native lady, and richly ornamented with silver. We purchased a
shield of the hide of the rhinoceros at the fair at Allahabad; there
are numerous indentations upon it, the marks of bullets, which appear
to have been turned off by the thickness and strength of the hide. My
husband used to cut it up to leather the tips of billiard cues—therefore
I carried it off, and added it to my museum.
The journey was very unpleasant, very hot, and not a breath of air.
The dust from the trampling of the bearers’ feet rolled up in clouds,
filling my eyes and mouth, and powdering my hair; and my little terrier,
Fairy Poppus, as the natives call her, in imitation of my “Fury, pup,
pup,” was very troublesome in the pālkee.
I arrived at Cawnpore at 7 A.M., and was glad to take shelter in my new
house, which I found very cool and pleasant, after a hot drive during the
last stage in a buggy.
The house, or rather bungalow[55], for it is tiled over a thatch, is
situated in the centre of the station, near the theatre; it stands on a
platform of stone rising out of the Ganges, which flows below and washes
the walls. The station is a very large one: besides the gentlemen of the
Civil Service, there are the artillery, the eleventh dragoons, the fourth
cavalry, and three or four regiments of infantry.
The work of this day began by what is really an operation in India, and
constantly repeated, that is, washing the hair. My ayha understood it
remarkably well; for the benefit of those ladies having beautiful tresses
in the East, I give the receipt[56].
_June 9th._—The deaths are numerous in our farm-yard; in such weather
it is a matter of surprise that any thing can exist. At 4 P.M. the
thermometer outside the verandah, in the sun, stood at 130°; in the
shade, at 110°! From this time to the end of August we lost 280 Guinea
fowls from vertigo, and three calves also died.
A storm is raging: it arose in clouds of dust, which, sweeping over
the river from the Lucnow side, blow directly on the windows of the
drawing-room; they are all fastened, and a man at every one of them,
or the violence of the wind would burst them open; my mouth and eyes
are full of fine sand; I can scarcely write;—not a drop of rain, only
the high wind, and the clouds of dust so thick we cannot see across the
verandah. I feel rather afraid lest some part of the house, which is not
in good repair, should give way if it continue to blow in such gusts.
This bay-windowed room feels the whole force of the tufān, which is the
heaviest I have seen. In Calcutta we had severe storms, with thunder
and lightning; here, nothing but clouds of sand—reaching from earth to
heaven—with a hot yellow tinge, shutting out the view entirely. The storm
has blown for an hour, and is beginning to clear off; I can just see the
little white-crested waves on the river beneath the verandah.
In the open air the thermometer stands at 130°; in the drawing-room,
with three tattīs up, at 88°. The heat is too oppressive to admit of an
evening drive.
A high caste and religious native gentleman, Shah Kubbeer-oo-deen Ahmud,
requested to be allowed to play at chess with me; the natives are
passionately fond of the game, which is remarkable, as chess was one
of the games forbidden by the prophet. On the arrival of my opponent, I
recognized the native gentleman who had entertained me with fireworks
at Sahseram. I have spoken of him as of _high caste_—that term is only
correct when applied to an Hindoo, Musulmāns have no distinction of caste.
_14th._—A tufān, a sand storm, or rather a storm of sand and dust, is now
blowing; indeed, a little while ago the darkness was so great from that
cause, I was obliged to leave off writing, being unable to distinguish
the letters.
The Ganges opposite Cawnpore is about three miles in breadth; and,
at this season, the water being low, the natives cultivate melons,
cucumbers, wheat, &c., on the islands in the centre of the stream; some
of the melons are delicious, remarkably fragrant, and very cheap. During
the rains the islands are entirely under water, and the river, when there
is a breeze, swells into waves like a little sea.
If a house has a flat roof covered with flag-stones and mortar, it is
called a pukka house; if the roof be raised and it be thatched, it
is called a bungalow; the latter are generally supposed to be cooler
than the pukka houses. The rooms of our house are lofty and good; the
dining-room forty feet by twenty-eight, the swimming-bath thirty feet by
twenty-one, and all the other rooms on a suitable scale. There is a fine
garden belonging to and surrounding the house, having two good wells,
coach-house, stables, cow-house, &c. In India the kitchen and all the
servants’ offices are detached from the dwelling on account of the heat.
We pay 150 rupees a month, about 150 guineas per annum, a heavy rent for
an up-country house: the houses are always let unfurnished.
Very fine white grapes are now selling at fourpence-halfpenny per pound.
Cawnpore is famous for its fruit-gardens.
The natives are curious people! My ayha, a Musulmāne, asked me to allow
her to go to a dinner-party given by some khidmatgārs, friends of hers;
and on her return, she said to me, “Mem sāhiba, we have had a very fine
khānā (dinner), and plenty to eat—I am quite full;” patting her body with
great glee, “but we have had a great quarrel.” She then explained that
at a native feast every guest sits down in a circle, or in a line, and
before each person a freshly gathered leaf is placed as a plate; then the
giver of the feast comes round, and puts an equal portion of curry and
rice before each guest. When all have been helped, they start fair—and,
in general, the host refills all the plates. It sometimes happens that
some of the guests eat so fast they get a greater share than the others,
this puts the rest into a rage, and they quietly vent their spite by
slyly cutting holes in the clothes worn by the great eaters. It happened
at this feast that my ayha sat next a man who was helped three times, and
I suspect she cut holes in his attire, which caused the disturbance.
During this month of June we have lost two very fine grey
carriage-horses, the first we have lost during a residence of nearly
eight years in India; they have been poisoned by the grass-cutters for
the sake of their skins, each skin being worth about six rupees. The
first stage out of Cawnpore is famous as a place where horses die on
their march, and hides are there procurable for tanning. The poison is
made into small balls, scarcely larger than pills, which are thrown into
the manger, or into the grass. In the evening I observed about twenty
natives surrounding the entrance-gates, who had come in the hope of
carrying the carcase away, to sell the hide, and to feast themselves upon
the flesh, for the people of the Jullah or Doom caste eat carrion. They
were disappointed in their hope of a repast; we had the horse put into a
boat, and sunk in the Ganges.
_Extract from the Letter of a Friend Homeward-bound._
_June._—“After leaving the Sandheads we were obliged to put
into Trincomalee, Ceylon, in consequence of an accident to the
chain-cable, and having sprung a leak. We put to sea again,
but the leak was as bad as before whenever the sea made the
vessel pitch; fortunately, we reached the Isle of France, March
19th, and were in quarantine three days and a half. On landing
I thought I had never seen a dirtier place nor filthier people
than Port Louis and its inhabitants. And now I will tell you an
odd story.
“There is an old French soldier living on this island, who
has the power of seeing in the clouds the reflections of
approaching ships, and this when the ships are at the distance
of 300 or 400 miles. Three days before we came in, he made his
public report at the proper office that five ships and three
brigs were approaching the island, pointing out the different
directions in which they lay. The exact number and description
of vessels, of which our ship, the Lady Flora, was one, came
in; we were the first at anchor, and the others came in during
the day of our arrival and the next. At the time he reported
seeing us, we must have been at least 350 miles from the
island. The old man died suddenly the day after our arrival. He
was an European, born in France, and had been thirty-six years
on this island. Buonaparte made him liberal offers to go home
to France, but he would not—as he said that it was only in a
particular atmosphere, such as that round this island, that he
could exert his singular faculty. The old man used to lie or
sit nearly all day, with a telescope in his hand, looking at
the clouds all round the island. He foretold the number and
description of ships when the British expedition to this island
was approaching, and, as I understand, quite correctly.
“Once he reported that there were either two brigs lashed
together, or a four-masted ship coming to the island; and this
turned out to be a large 1200 ton ship, which had lost all her
masts in a storm, and had put up four temporary spars to supply
the place of masts. The reflection, therefore, in the clouds
must have been very correct. And surely the power of seeing
these reflections is not confined to one individual, but many
have the power of vision equal to this man’s, if they had the
patience and time to make the trial.”
My friend spoke with great pleasure of the kindness he received from
the governor of the island, during his stay at Reduit; and in raptures
of a most beautiful waterfall. The thermometer at Reduit was only 75°,
the elevation above the sea being 1200 feet. He says; “The island is an
unhealthy place for animals; out of 212 Java ponies that arrived here two
months before, fifty or sixty are dead.”
How much I like the description of the visionary life the old man led,
lying idly on the shore and gazing on the clouds! It brought to memory
the happy days I formerly passed on the western shore of Hampshire,
seeing or fancying the most beautiful visions in the clouds, whilst I
listened to the sweet monotony of the waves—
“I may not muse—I must not dream—
Too beautiful those visions seem
For earth or mortal man; but when
Shall by-past times come back again?”
Women have more influence over men in India than in any other country.
All out-door amusements are nearly denied to the latter by the climate,
unless before sunrise or after sunset; therefore the whole time of
military men, generally speaking, is spent in the house, devoted
either to music or drawing, which of course they prefer in the society
of ladies, or in the study of the languages, or in gaming. The young
officers at this station play exceedingly high, ruinously so—two guinea
points at short whist, and 100 guineas on the rubber, is not unusual
amongst the young men.
Happily the gentlemen in the Civil Service have too much employment to
admit of their devoting their time to gambling.
If you ask a native—“Where is your master gone?” if the gentleman be from
home, you are sure to receive the answer—“Howā khānā-ke-wāste” (to eat
the air); this chamelion-like propensity of eating the air is always the
object during the early morning ride and the evening drive.
Our servants at present only amount to fifty-four, and I find it quite
difficult enough to keep them in order; they quarrel amongst themselves,
and when they become quite outrageous, they demand their discharge.
My ayha and the ābdār had a laughable quarrel. She was making herself a
pair of Europe Chintz pajamas (trousers) such as they usually wear, made
very full round the body, and quite tight from the knee to the ancle.
Musulmāne women never wear a petticoat when amongst themselves; it is
the badge of servitude, and put on to please European ladies; the moment
an ayha gets into her own house, she takes off her full petticoat and
the large white mantle (chādar) that covers her head and the upper part
of her body, and walks about in the curiously shaped trousers I have
described, with a sort of loose jacket of muslin over the upper part,
beneath which is the angiya.
The ayha was sitting on her chārpāī (native bed) working away with great
eagerness, when her friend the ābdār advised her to make the trousers
full to the ankle; and she came to me to give warning to quit my service,
vowing revenge upon the ābdār, because nāch women wear trousers of that
description. The old ābdār, Sheik-jee, was sitting down very quietly
making chapāties (flour-cakes), and smoking his narjil (cocoa-nut shell
hooqŭ) at intervals, enjoying the ayha’s anger, until she stood up, and,
screaming with passion, gave him gālee (abuse); he then flew into a rage,
and I had some trouble to restore peace and quietness. Natives seldom,
indeed hardly ever, come to blows, but they will go on for hours abusing
each other in the grossest language, screaming out their words from
passion.
A darzee (tailor) is an Indian luxury: they work beautifully—as strongly
and finely as the French milliners; they have great patience—because
they are paid by the month, and not by the piece. In Calcutta I found my
tailors great thieves—knives, scissors, seals—they would steal anything.
One man carried off a present I had just received, a necklace and
bracelets of a very curious pattern, and a box full of polished pebbles,
in sets, from the Soane river.
Bishop Heber, who did not understand native character, and possessed much
simplicity, was surprised when the up-country natives thus addressed
him: “Defender of the poor, peace be unto you! Refuge of the distressed,
sālāmut[57]!” and imagined it was from respect to his holy office. I was
playing with the son of the judge, a little fellow of two years old; the
child offered to shake hands, and presented his left hand—his native
attendant, shocked at what he considered an insult, desired him to give
the right hand; the child did so, when the chaprāsī cried out with great
pleasure, “Well done! well done! Refuge of the distressed! defender of
the poor!”
Ram Din, the man mentioned in Chapter XI., was a Rājput sipahī in the
Company’s service, from which, after twelve years’ service, he obtained
his discharge; he was in many engagements. In Calcutta the man came
to us, and, making salām, presented his chitthīs (written vouchers of
conduct), saying; “Refuge of the distressed, having heard of your great
name, I am present to offer my services; I have served the Company
faithfully twelve years, I will serve you faithfully.” He was a fine
native, about six feet high or upwards; he lived with us many years,
and had always charge of the boats or the tents when we moved about the
country.
A native is very fond of wearing a plain silver ring on the little
finger, with a stone on the top, on which is engraved his own name, and
sometimes that of the god he particularly worships, if the man be an
Hindoo. They usually stamp any petition they may have to send to any
gentleman with it, by putting Hindostanī ink on the seal, wetting the
paper, and pressing the seal down upon it[58].
On the signet-ring of the Rājput above mentioned was “Ram Din Mahādēo.”
The engraver invariably puts the date of the year on the corner of
the stone, unless it be expressly forbidden. Engraved on the ruby of
a signet-ring, brought to me from Persia, was “Allah, Muhammad, Ali,
Fatima, Hussen, Hossein[59].”
THE DURWĀN.
What happy wretches the natives are! A man who gets two annas a day
(fourpence), can find himself in food, clothing, house, silver finery
for his person, and support his wife and children also. My ayha in
Calcutta, who received eleven rupees a month, refused any longer to dine
with her dear friend the durwān, because, as she expressed it, he was
so extravagant and such a glutton he would eat as much as one rupee
and a half or two rupees a month; and, as she herself never ate more
than one rupee per month, she would no longer go shares in his expenses.
The durwān lives at the entrance-gates of his master’s house, and is
always in attendance to open them; his wages are usually five rupees a
month; and he is always on the watch that nothing may be carried away
clandestinely. The man, whose portrait is annexed, bears the marks of
his caste in three yellow horizontal lines above the red circle on his
forehead; around his neck are two strings of the beads called mandrasee,
as represented by Fig. 9, in the sketch entitled “Jugunnath.” Large heavy
rings of silver are on his arms, and the bracelet is also of silver.
[Illustration: THE DURWAN.
فاني پارکس]
The durwāns are very fond of brilliant colours, and are generally well
dressed; their food consists principally of curry made of kid, fish,
chicken, prawns, or vegetables, with a great quantity of Patna rice
boiled to perfection, every grain separate, and beautifully white. My
ayha brought me one day a vegetable curry of her own making, to show me
the food on which she lived with her friend the durwān; it would have
been excellent, had it not been made with moota tel, _i.e._ mustard oil.
_16th_.—The native boys whom I see swimming and sporting in the river of
an evening, are much better off than the poor people in England. I wish
we had some of them here, on whom to bestow a fine cold saddle of mutton.
A round of beef would be of importance to them. You may imagine how much
must be thrown away, when you cannot with the greatest care, at this
season, keep meat good for more than twenty-four hours; and roasted meat
will only keep until the next day.
In Calcutta, the tank water being unwholesome to drink, it is necessary
to catch rain water, and preserve it in great jars; sixty jars full
will last a year in our family. It is purified with alum, and a heated
iron is put into it. Here we drink the Ganges water, reckoned the most
wholesome in India; it is purified in jars in the same manner. The water
of the Jumna is considered unwholesome, and in some parts, my old ābdār
declares, it is absolutely poisonous.
We were glad to quit Allahabad, the small-pox having commenced its
ravages at that station. On our arrival at Cawnpore, we found it raging
still worse; the magistrate took it, and died in three days. Hundreds of
children are ill of this disease in the bazār; and the government, in
their humanity, have done away with the vaccine department here. Surely
it is a cruel act, where there are so many regiments and so many European
children, who cannot now be vaccinated. It is very severe, and numbers of
adults have been attacked.
In India wax candles are always burned. A bearer will not touch a mould
because they say it is made of pig’s fat. We burn spermaceti generally.
The first time the bearers saw them, they would not touch the spermaceti,
and I had great difficulty in persuading them the candles were made from
the fat of a great fish. Some bearers in Calcutta will not snuff a candle
if it be on the dinner-table, but a khidmatgār having put it on the
ground, the bearer will snuff it, when the other man replaces it. In the
upper provinces they are not so particular.
One of the grass-cutters has been sent to the hospital, dying, I fear, of
fever. Every horse has a sā’īs (groom) and a grass-cutter allowed him:
the latter goes out every morning, perhaps some four or five miles, cuts
a bundle of grass, and brings it home on his head. The men are exposed
to the sun so much, and live so badly, it is no wonder they fall ill of
fever; besides which, they are extremely fond of arrak (bazār spirits).
Wine they delight in: when the empty bottles are carried from the house
to the godown, the grass-cutters often petition to have the dregs of the
wine. They pour off into their lotas (brass drinking cups) the remains of
all the bottles, mixing beer, sherry, claret, vinegar, hock, champagne,
in fact, any thing of which they can find a drop; and then, sitting down,
each man drinks a portion and passes the cup to his neighbour, often
saying “Bahut achchhā, bahut achchhā,” very good, very good, and eagerly
looking out for his turn again, and fair play.
I have several times made them put this vile mixture away for another
day, or they would have drunk it until the whole was finished.
_21st._—Finding the night very oppressive, I quitted my chārpāī, and
putting on a cambric dressing-gown and slippers, went out on the platform
by the river and stayed there an hour, there being a little breeze to
refresh me. You may imagine how dry the air must be; I had no fear of
cold, no want of a shawl, and my light dress was sufficiently warm. It
was as fine a starlight night as I have seen in India. The horses are
sick, burnt up in their stables, which are made on a bad principle; they
feel the want of the large, cool, loose boxes they had at Allahabad.
_August 4th._—It is said, the Earl of C⸺ lost 65,000 rupees a short time
ago, by forgeries committed in Calcutta: the person at the head of the
forgeries was Rajah Buddinath Roy, a native prince in high favour with
Lord Amherst; and I rather imagine his lordship has suffered also by
the Rajah’s forged bills. _On dit_, he used to talk about Christianity
as if _in time_ he might be converted; he subscribed to schools and
missionary societies, and distributed Bibles—the bait took—in return
he was allowed such and such honorary attendance, as by the Company’s
regulations a native may not have without permission. This flattered his
pride, and his seemingly religious disposition secured him from suspicion
falling upon him as a forger, especially of passing forged bills on the
Governor-general. The case is now being tried in Court.
People think of nothing but converting the Hindoos; and religion is
often used as a cloak by the greatest schemers after good appointments.
Religious meetings are held continually in Calcutta, frequented by people
to pray themselves into high salaries, who never thought of praying
before.
In India we use no bells to call servants; but as the chaprāsīs are
always in attendance just without the door, if you want one, you say
“Qui hy?” _i.e._ “is there any one?”—or “Kon hy?”—“who is there?” when a
servant appears. For this reason old Indians are called Qui hys.
_7th._—The plagues of Egypt were not worse than the plagues of India.
Last night the dinner-table was covered with white ants, having wings:
these ants, at a certain period after a shower, rise from the earth with
four large wings. They fly to the lights, and your lamps are put out in a
few minutes by swarms of them: they fall into your plate at dinner, and
over your book when reading, being most troublesome. Last night heavy
rain fell, and the rooms were swarming with winged-ants, which flew in;
their wings fell off almost immediately, verifying the proverb: “When
ants get wings they die[60].”
To-night we are suffering under a more disagreeable infliction; a
quantity of winged-bugs flew in just as dinner was put on the table, the
bamboo screens having been let down rather too late. They are odious;
they fly upon your face and arms, and into your plate; if you brush them
away, they emit such terrible effluvia it is sickening, and yet one
cannot bear them to crawl over one’s body, as one is at this minute doing
on my ear, without pushing them off.
_21st._—There has been a great fire in the Fort of Allahabad, and the
magazine of gunpowder was with difficulty saved. What an explosion it
would have caused had it taken fire!
Oh! how I long for the liberty and freshness of a country life in
England—what would I not give for a fine _bracing_ air, and a walk by the
sea-side, to enable me to shake off this Indian languor, and be myself
again! The moon is so hot to-night, I cannot sit on the Terrace; she
makes my head ache. A chatr (umbrella) is as necessary a defence against
the rays of the moon at the full, as against the sun.
These natives are curious people. Two of our khidmatgārs were looking at
the weather; the one said, “It is a good thing that from the pleasure of
Allah the rain has been stopped; otherwise, so many houses would have
fallen in.” The ābdār answered, “Those are the words of an unbeliever.”
Kaffir ke bat. “You are a Kaffir,” exclaimed the first man, in a great
rage. It being high abuse to use the term, the ābdār took off his shoe
and flung it at the other, on which the first man struck him a good blow
with his fist, which cut his cheek open. Here ended the fight—they were
both frightened at the sight of blood—it is the only instance we have
met with of a native using his fists like an Englishman.
The other affair was this: my sā’īs (groom) had bought some ganja, an
intoxicating herb, which he put into his hooqŭ to smoke, and offered it
to the other sā’īses. To refuse to smoke from an offered hooqŭ, is a
high offence. The sā’īses would not smoke the ganja, abused the man for
buying it, and getting intoxicated daily from its effect. He said, “I
will not stay in service, if you will not smoke with me.” “Well, go and
give warning,” said the head groom. My sā’īs gave him gālee (abuse); at
which the head groom took a stick and beat him. The sā’īs immediately
said, “My life be on your head,” and running to the well, he let himself
drop down into the water; but when at the bottom, he began to halloo for
assistance, the well being very deep, and the water also. He was drawn
up by ropes. I do not think he meant to kill himself; and yet dropping
down such a distance was a great risk. He said, if he had died of the
fall, the head groom would have been hung, and he should thus have had
his revenge. The next time he plays such a prank, he is to remain at the
bottom of the well.
_22nd._—They tell me the people in Calcutta are dying fast from a fever
resembling the yellow fever. The soldiers, European, here are also going
to their graves very quickly; three days ago, six men died; two days ago,
six more expired; and one hundred and sixty are in the hospital. The
fever, which rages, tinges the skin and eyes yellow; perhaps only the
severe bilious fever of India brought on by drinking brandy and arrak, a
bazār spirit extremely injurious, to say nothing of exposure to the sun.
Almost every evening we meet the two elephants belonging to the hospital
carrying each about ten sick men, who are sufficiently recovered to be
able to go out “to eat the air,” and for exercise; the poor fellows
look so wan and ghastly. The sā’īs before-mentioned added the leaves of
hemp (cannabis sativa) to his tobacco, and smoked it to increase its
intoxicating power. Bhang, an intoxicating liquor, is prepared from
the same leaves. Pariah arrak, an inferior sort of spirituous liquor,
is sold extremely cheap, from one to four ānās a quart: it is most
unwholesome, and mixed with most injurious articles to increase its
intoxicating power, such as the juice of the thorn-apple and ganja. There
are many kinds of arrak; that distilled from cocoa-nut toddy is, they
say, the least injurious. Who can be surprised at the number of deaths
that occur amongst men in the habit of drinking this heating and narcotic
spirit, called rack by the soldiers? Flax is grown in great quantities
in India, but is little used for cloth. Taat, which is made from sunn
(hemp), is manufactured into paper. Linseed oil is extracted from the
seed, and the remainder, the cake, is given to cows. The waste land in
our compound (grounds around the house) was covered with thorn-apple
plants. I had them rooted out, leaving only two or three of different
kinds in the garden. Abdārs have been known to administer this plant
(datura) to their masters in the hooqŭ: an over-dose produces delirium.
There are several species of this beautiful plant:
Common datura (Datura stramonium), thorn-apple.
Kala datura (Datura fastuosa), a triple flower of a most beautiful
dark purple.
Suffeid datura (Datura metel), flowers white, hairy thorn-apple.
Another (Datura ferox), flowers yellow.
Ditto (Datura canescens), a variety, flowers always single,
and of a yellowish white colour.
Qualities, intoxicating and narcotic.—The Mahomedans give kala datura
in those violent headaches that precede epilepsy and mania. It produces
vertigo when taken in large doses, and has the effect of dilating in a
singular manner the pupil of the eye. Some writers call it “_Trompette du
jugement_,” and “_Herbe aux sorciers_.” The leaves of the datura ferox
are sometimes used to make arrak more intoxicating: its seeds produce
delirium. Stramonium is an abbreviation of the Greek “Mad apple,” on
account of the dangerous effects of the fruit of that species. Metel is
an Arabic name, and expresses the narcotic effect of the plant.
What can be more wretched than the life of a private soldier in the East?
his profession employs but little of his time. During the heat of the
day, he is forced to remain within the intensely hot barrack-rooms; heat
produces thirst, and idleness discontent. He drinks arrak like a fish,
and soon finds life a burden, almost insupportable. To the man weary
of the burden of existence, to escape from it, transportation appears
a blessing. The great source of all this misery is the cheapness of
arrak mixed with datura, and the restlessness arising from the want of
occupation; although a library is generally provided for the privates by
the regiment.
You at home, who sleep in gay beds of carved mahogany, with handsome
curtains, would be surprised at sight of the beds used by us during
the hot winds. Four small posts, and a frame, on which very broad tape
(newār) is plaited and strained very tight, over this a sītal-pātī, a
sort of fine cool Manilla mat, then the sheets, and for warmth, either
an Indian shawl, or a rezai, which is of silk quilted with cotton, and
very light. We use no musquito curtains, for each chārpāī is placed just
before an open window, with the east wind blowing on it, and a pankhā,
with a deep double frill, is in full swing over the beds all night,
pulled by a string which passes through a hole in the wall—the wind it
creates drives off the musquitoes, and the man who pulls the pankhā is
relieved every two hours.
“A NEW SERVANT WILL CATCH DEER[61].”
A gentleman in the Civil Service had succeeded, after much trouble, in
rearing some very fine strawberry plants, and he visited his garden daily
to admire the blossoms. One day, when he called a chaprāsī, a new man,
a stupid fellow, came into the room; the gentleman would not tell him
what he wanted, but said, “Send another servant to me;” the man went
out, and after some time returned with his hands full of the beautiful
strawberry-blossoms! Had you seen how the countenance of the sāhib fell
when he saw them, you would have laughed as I did. He desired the man to
put his chaprās on the table, and quit his service at once. The gentleman
was an excellent linguist, but the new servant would willingly have
caught deer.
The Governor-general left Calcutta on the 11th inst., and proposes to
be at Benares on the 10th December. Lady William Bentinck accompanies
him in his tour. They say that she is dreadfully nervous about him. His
unpopularity is increasing, and some ill-regulated person, in a moment of
disappointment and frenzy, might perhaps cause a scene. The events of the
last few years, since Mr. Canning’s death, have been astounding. I wonder
if there is more room for amazement. I hope his Grace the Duke will not
take us under his charge. We are satisfied with King Log, provided he
stands in the way of King Stork.
Lord William has been doing away with all the good appointments in the
Civil Service; and the army have been cruelly treated, with respect to
the half-batta. Perhaps, when the renewal of the Charter is concluded,
the Directors will again be enabled to treat those living under their
command with the generosity which has ever distinguished them, and which
has rendered their service one of the finest in the world.
CHAPTER XV.
THE THUG’S DICE.
The Thug’s Dice—Execution of Eleven Thugs.
1830, _Oct._—Mr. S⸺, the acting magistrate, has sent me a present of the
dice used by the Thugs; they were taken from a Thug in the magistrate’s
office. There are three dice, made of brass roughly filed. In the sketch
entitled “The Thug’s Dice,” (Fig. 3.) they are represented exactly of the
size and shape of the originals, which are all of one size and shape. Two
sides are perforated by a large hole that goes through the centre.
Two of the sides are marked with three small circles placed in a
triangular form; one side has two circles, and four are on the other side.
[Illustration: THE THUG’S DICE.
On Stone by Major Parlby
فاني پارکس]
When the Thugs are going out on a strangling expedition, they throw these
dice to see what days will prove lucky or unlucky.
_Oct. 16th._—In the Government Gazette of this evening is an account of
the execution of eleven Thugs, in a letter from a man up the country to
the editor: the account is so interesting, I cannot refrain from copying
it.
“SIR,—I was yesterday present at the execution of eleven Thugs,
who had been seized in the neighbourhood of Bhilsa, convicted
of the murder of thirty-five travellers, (whose bodies were
disinterred as evidence against them at the different places
along the lines of road between Bhopaul and Saugor, where they
had been strangled and buried,) and sentenced to death by the
agent to the Governor-general, Mr. Smith.
“As the sun rose, the eleven men were brought out from the
jail, decorated with chaplets of flowers, and marched up to the
front of the drop, where they arranged themselves in line with
infinite self-possession.
“When arranged, each opposite the noose that best pleased him,
they lifted up their hands and shouted, ‘Bindachul ka jae!
Bhawānī ka jae!’ _i.e._ ‘Glory to Bindachul! Bhawānī’s glory!’
every one making use of precisely the same invocation, though
four were Mahomedans, one a Brahman, and the rest Rajpoots,
and other castes of Hindoos; they all ascended the steps, and
took their position upon the platform with great composure,
then, taking the noose in both hands, made the same invocation
to Bhawānī, after which they placed them over their heads and
adjusted them to their necks; some of the younger ones laughing
at the observations of the crowd around them.
“One of the youngest, a Mahomedan, impatient of the delay,
stooped down so as to tighten the rope, and, stepping
deliberately over the platform, hung himself as coolly as one
would step over a rock to take a swim in the sea! This man was
known to have assisted in strangling a party of six travellers
at Omurpatan, in the Rewah Rajah’s territories, in December
last, and closely pursued—to have gone off, joined another
gang, and, in less than a month, to have assisted in strangling
thirty more in Bhopaul; he was taken at Bhilsa, the last scene
of his murders. Omurpatan is 100 miles east of Jubulpore; and
the place in which the Thug assisted in strangling in the
Bhopaul territories, a month afterwards, is 200 miles west of
Jubulpore. Such is the rapidity with which these murderers
change the scene of their operations, when conscious of keen
pursuit! He was taken at Bhilsa by the very man whom he found
upon his trail at Omurpatan, 300 miles distant.
“On being asked whether they had any wish to express to the
magistrate, they prayed that for every man hung, _five convicts
might be released from jail_, and that they might have a little
money to be distributed in charity.
“Their invocation of Bhawānī at the drop, was a confession of
their guilt, for no one in such a situation invokes Bhawānī
but a Thug, and he invokes no other deity in any situation,
whatever may be his religion or sect. She is worshipped
under her four names, Devi, Kalee, Doorga, and Bhawānī, and
her temple at Bindachun, a few miles west of Mirzapore on
the Ganges, is constantly filled with murderers from every
quarter of India, who go there to offer up a share of the
booty acquired from their strangled victims in their annual
excursions.
“This accounts for the invocation—‘jae Bindachul!’ made use
of by these men in approaching and ascending the drop. These
pilgrimages to the temple are made generally at the latter end
of the rainy season, and whilst on their road from their homes
to the temple, nothing can ever tempt them to commit a robbery.
They are not, however, so scrupulous on their way back.
“The priests promise the Thugs impunity and wealth, provided
a due share be offered to the goddess. If they die by the
sword in the execution of murders, she promises them paradise
in all its most exquisite delights; if taken and executed, it
must arise from her displeasure, incurred by some neglect of
the duties they owe her, and they must, as disturbed spirits,
inhabit mid-air until her wrath be appeased. After they have
propitiated the goddess by offering up a share of the preceding
year, and received the priest’s suggestions on the subject,
they prepare for the next year’s expedition.
“The different members who form the gang assemble at the
village of the leader at a certain day, and, after determining
the scene of operations, they proceed to consecrate their
kodalee, or small pickaxe, which they use to dig the graves of
their victims, and which they consider as their _standard_.
They believe that no spirit can ever rise to trouble their
repose from a grave dug by this instrument, provided it be
duly consecrated, and they are fearfully scrupulous in the
observance of every ceremony enjoined in the consecration, and
never allow the earth to be turned with any other instrument.
It is a neatly made pickaxe of about four or five pounds’
weight, six or eight inches long, and with one point.
“They sacrifice a goat, and offer it up, with a cocoa-nut, to
Bhawānī; they then make a mixture of sandal and other scented
woods, spirits, sugar, flour, and butter, and boil it in a
cauldron.
“The kodalee, having been carefully washed, is put upon a spot
cleared away for the purpose, and plastered with cow dung,
and the mixture is poured over it with certain prayers and
ceremonies.
“It is now wiped and folded in a clean white cloth by the
priest, and the whole gang proceed some distance from the
village upon the road they intend to take, and stand until
they hear a partridge call, the priest having in his mind some
one as the bearer of the sacred deposit. If the partridge call
on the right, he places it in the hands of that individual,
and in a solemn manner impresses upon him the responsibility
of the charge. If a partridge call on the left, or one do not
call until the sun is high, they all return, and wait until
the next morning, when they proceed to another spot, and the
priest fixes his mind upon some other individual; and so every
morning, until the deity has signified her approbation of the
choice by the calling of the partridge on the right.
“If the kodalee should fall to the ground at any time, the
gang consider it as an evil omen, leave that part of the
country without delay, and select another standard-bearer. If
no accident happen, the man first elected bears it the whole
season; but a new election must take place for the next. The
man who bears it carries it in his waistband, but never sleeps
with it on his person, nor lets any man see where he conceals
it during the night, or whilst he takes his rest.
“All oaths of the members of the gang are administered upon
this instrument, folded in a clean white cloth, and placed on
ground cleared away and plastered with cow dung: I have heard
the oldest of them declare, that they believe any man who
should make a false oath upon it would be immediately punished
by some fatal disease. If any man be suspected of treachery,
they make him swear in this manner.
“The standard-bearer, immediately after his election, proceeds
across the first running stream in the direction of the country
to which the gang intend to proceed, accompanied by only one
witness, to wait for a favourable omen. When they come to the
Nurbudda, Jumna, or any other river of this class, the whole
gang must accompany him. A deer on the right of the road is a
good omen, especially if single, according to the verse—
“Leela Mirga daena—Suda daena Tas.
Kishunrut hark doo, bhule kure Bhugwan.”
“If a wolf is seen to cross the road, either before or behind
them, they must return, and take another road. If they hear a
jackal call during the day, or a partridge during the night,
they leave that part of the country forthwith. An old man once
told me, in proof of the faith to be placed in these signs,
that he was, in his youth, one of a gang of fifty, who were
sleeping under some date-trees, between Indore and Ojeya, when
a partridge was heard to call out of one of them about two in
the morning. They got up in great alarm, moved off instantly,
but about daylight met a party of horse going from Ojeya to
Indore. Some dispute took place between them, and they were
taken back to Indore.
“They had murdered the gooroo (or chief priest) of the Holcar
family and his followers; and their leader taking a liking to a
parrot of his, had brought it with them.
“On arriving at Indore the parrot began to talk, and was
almost immediately recognized by one of Holcar’s family as
the parrot of the gooroo who had gone off for Ojeya some days
before. One of the youngest of them was immediately tied up
and flogged, and after a couple of dozen, he confessed the
robbery and murder. The bodies were taken up and recognized,
and five-and-forty Thugs were blown off at once from the mouths
of cannon. He was one of the five who were pardoned on account
of their youth, and taken into service.
“The handle of the kodalee is made and put on when it is
required, and thrown away the moment the work is done, so that
it forms no essential part of the consecrated instrument.
“The investiture of the roomal (or handkerchief) is the next
religious ceremony performed. No man can strangle until he
has been regularly invested by the priest with the cloth with
which it is performed. Cords and nooses are no longer used. A
common handkerchief or cummerbund is all that men north of the
Nurbudda will now use, though it is said, that in some parts of
the Peninsula the cord and noose are still in use, owing to the
Thugs there being less liable to be searched.
“After a man has passed through the different grades, and shown
that he has sufficient dexterity, nerve, and resolution, which
they call ‘hard breastedness,’ to strangle a victim himself,
the priest, before all the gang assembled on a certain day,
presents him with the roomal, and tells him how many of his
family have signalized themselves by the use of it, how much
his friends expect from his courage and conduct, and implores
the goddess to vouchsafe her support to his laudable ambition
and endeavours to distinguish himself in her service.
“The investiture of the roomal is knighthood to these monsters;
it is the highest object of their ambition, not only because
the man who strangles has so much a head over and above the
share which falls to him in the division of the spoil, but
because it implies the recognition, by his comrades, of the
qualities of courage, strength, and dexterity, which all are
anxious to be famed for.
“The ceremony costs the candidate about forty rupees; and is
performed by a gooroo, or high priest of the gang, who is
commonly an old Thug, no matter whether Musulmān or Hindoo, who
has retired from service, and lives upon the contributions of
his descendants and disciples, who look up to him with great
reverence for advice and instruction, and refer to his decision
all cases of doubt and dispute amongst themselves.
“Many attain this degree of knighthood before the age of
twenty, having been taken out by their masters when young, and
early accustomed to assist by holding the hands of the victims
while the roomal-bearers strangle them; and a man must show
good evidence of the ‘kura chatee,’ or hard breast, before he
is admitted even to this office; some men never attain to this
honour, particularly those who have adopted the profession
late in life, and remain all their lives as decoys, watchmen,
grave-diggers, and removers of bodies. An attempt has been
made, and with some success, to impress Thugs with the belief
that the souls of their victims attain paradise, as in the case
of other human victims, offered in sacrifice to this goddess,
and become the tutelar saints of those who strangle them.
“This is, however, somewhat at variance with their notion, that
the spirits of those who have been buried with the consecrated
pickaxe can never rise from their graves; but it reminds me
of an opinion that prevails amongst the people in wild and
mountainous parts of India, that the spirit of a man destroyed
by a tiger, sometimes rides upon his head and guides him from
his pursuers.
“The person invested with the roomal has long used it in play
before the practised eye of his gooroo, and has been long
accustomed to see others use it in earnest; but it is still
thought necessary to select for him easy victims at first, and
they do not employ him indiscriminately, like the others, until
he has shown his powers in the death of two or three travellers
of feeble form and timid bearing. The maxim that ‘dead men tell
no tales’ is invariably acted upon by these people, and they
never rob a man until they have murdered him.
“In the territories of the native chiefs of Bundelcund, and
those of Scindia and Holcar, a Thug feels just as independent
and free as an Englishman in a tavern, and they will probably
begin to feel themselves just as much so in those of Nagpore,
now that European superintendency has been withdrawn. But they
are not confined to the territories of the native chiefs;
they are becoming numerous in our own, and are often found
most securely and comfortably situated in the very seats of
our principal judicial establishments; and of late years they
are known to have formed some settlements to the east of the
Ganges, in parts that they formerly used merely to visit in the
course of their annual excursions.
“I should mention that the cow being a form of Doorga, or
Bhawānī, the Mahomedans must forego the use of beef the moment
they enlist themselves under her banners; and though they may
read their khoran, they are not suffered to invoke the name of
Mahommed.
“The khoran is still their civil code, and they are governed by
its laws in all matters of inheritance, marriage, &c.
“Your obedient servant,
“H.[62]”
I have been greatly interested in the above account: there are numerous
Thugs in and around Cawnpore; they never attack Europeans; but the
natives are afraid of travelling alone, as a poor bearer with one month’s
wages of four rupees has quite sufficient to attract them. They seldom
bury them in these parts, but having strangled and robbed their victim,
they throw him down a well, wells being numerous by the side of the high
roads.
In 1844, I visited the famous temple of Bhawānī at Bindachun, near
Mirzapore. See the portrait of the Devi, entitled “Bhagwan;” and the
sketch of the “Temple of Bhawānī,” in the Second Volume.
CHAPTER XVI.
RESIDENCE AT CAWNPORE—THE DEWĀLĪ.
1830.—Āghā Meer the Nawāb—Elephants swimming
the Ganges—Cashmere Goats—Discontent of the
Soldiers—Buffaloes—Methodism—Desertion of Soldiers to
Runjeet Singh—Marks of age on stud-bred Horses—Abolition of
Sŭtēē—Pilgrim Tax—The Dewālī—The Phŭlŭ-hŭrēē Festival—Arrival
of Āghā Meer and his Zenāna—Vicious Horses—Turquoise mines in
Persia—Lament of the Hindoo Women—Burning the dead—The Mug
Cook—Brutal punishment—Plagues of Egypt—Conversion of Hindoo
Women—The Races—The Riding School—Kishmish Bakhshish—Apples and
grapes from Cabul—Arab Merchants.
1830, _Oct._—Mooatummud-ood-Dowlah, generally known as Āghā Meer, the
deposed Prime Minister to the King of Oude, Ghazee-ood-Deen Hyder, is
coming over to Cawnpore; his zenāna, treasures, two lacs of shawls,
&c. &c., have arrived on the other bank of the Ganges, escorted by the
military. The ex-minister has not yet arrived; and a large detachment of
the military from this station has been sent to escort him in safety to
the Company’s territories.
This morning, from the verandah, I was watching what appeared to be a
number of buffaloes floating down the stream, with their drivers; but,
as they approached, found them to be sixteen of Aghā Meer’s elephants
swimming over.
The distance from the Camp on the opposite side the river to our garden,
under which they landed, must be four miles, or more. Elephants swim very
low, and put down their trunks occasionally to ascertain if they are in
deep water. Their heads are almost invisible at times, and the mahāwats
strike them with the ānkus (goad) to guide them.
On reaching the bank just below our verandah, they set up a loud
_bellowing_, which was answered by those still struggling to get to land,
a work rather difficult to accomplish on account of the rapidity of the
river.
What would not the people at home give to see sixteen fine elephants
swimming four miles over a rapid river, with their mahāwats on their
backs, the men hallooing with all their might, and the elephants every
now and then roaring in concert! It was an interesting sight, and my
first view of their power in the water.
_2nd._—A friend, just returned from the hills, brought down with him some
forty Cashmere goats; the shawl goats, such as are found in the hills:
they die very fast on quitting the cold regions; he has lost all but
three females, which he has given to me; they will scarcely live in this
burning Cawnpore.
Report says the Governor-general has put off his journey for a month
longer; it is supposed he will, if possible, avoid this large military
station; the soldiers are in so discontented a state, he may perchance
receive a bullet on parade. The privates here have several times
attempted the lives of their officers, by shooting and cutting them down,
sometimes upon the slightest cause of complaint, and often without having
any to provoke such conduct.
_7th._—I have just returned from calling on a friend of mine, and
overheard the remarks of a gentleman, who was speaking of her to another;
they amused me.
“Really that is a noble creature, she has a neck like an Arab, her head
is so well set on!”
Buffaloes from Cawnpore swim off in the early morning in herds to the
bank in the centre of the river, where they feed; they return in the
evening of their own accord. The other evening I thought a shoal of
porpoises were beneath the verandah—but they were buffaloes trying to
find a landing-place; they swim so deeply, their black heads are only
partly visible, and at a little distance they may easily be mistaken for
porpoises.
Sometimes I see a native drive his cow into the river; when he wishes
to cross it, he takes hold of the animal by the tail, and holding on,
easily crosses over with her; sometimes he aids the cow by using one hand
in swimming.
“What is that going down the river?” exclaimed a gentleman. On applying
a telescope, we found fifty or sixty buffaloes all in a heap were
coming down with the stream, whilst ten natives swimming with them kept
thrashing them with long bamboos to make them exert themselves, and keep
all together: the natives shouting and urging on the animals, and the
buffaloes bellowing at every blow they received. At what a rate they come
down! the stream flows with such rapidity during the rains! This is the
first time I have seen such a large herd driven in this curious fashion.
Methodism is gaining ground very fast in Cawnpore; young ladies sometimes
profess to believe it highly incorrect to go to balls, plays, races, or
to any party where it is possible there may be a quadrille. A number of
the officers also profess these opinions, and set themselves up as New
Lights.
_9th._—I was remarking to an officer to-day, I thought it very unlikely
any one would attempt the life of the Governor-general. He replied: “The
danger is to be feared from the discharged sipahīs, who are in a most
turbulent and discontented state. Squadrons of them are gone over to
Runjeet Singh, who is most happy to receive well-disciplined troops into
his service.”
I have just learned how to tell the age of a stud-bred horse. All stud
horses are marked on the flank, when they are one year old, with the
first letter of the stud and the last figure of the year. Our little
mare, Lachhmī, is marked K. 0., therefore she was foaled at Kharuntadee
in 1819, and marked in 1820—making her age now eleven years.
_Oct. 10th._—I see in the papers—“A member in the House of Commons
expressed his satisfaction that so abominable a practice as that of sŭtēē
should have been abolished without convulsion or bloodshed. Great credit
was due to the noble lord at the head of the Government there, and to the
missionaries, to whom much of the credit was owing.”
How very absurd all this is, was proved to me by what came to my
knowledge at the time of the sŭtēē at Allahabad. If Government at that
time had issued the order to forbid sŭtēē, not one word would have been
said. The missionaries had nothing to do with it; the rite might have
been abolished long before without danger.
Women in all countries are considered such dust in the balance, when
their interests are pitted against those of the men, that I rejoice
no more widows are to be grilled, to ensure the whole of the property
passing to the sons of the deceased.
The Government interferes with native superstition where rupees are in
question—witness the tax they levy on pilgrims at the junction of the
Ganges and Jumna. Every man, even the veriest beggar, is obliged to give
one rupee for liberty to bathe at the holy spot; and if you consider that
one rupee is sufficient to keep that man in comfort for one month, the
tax is severe.
THE DEWĀLĪ.
_16th._—This is the great day of the Dewālī, celebrated by the Hindoos in
honour of Kālī, also called Kālee-pooja. This evening, happening to go
down to the river just below the verandah to look at a large toon-wood
tree lying in a boat, which some people had brought in hopes we should
purchase it, my attention was attracted to a vast quantity of lamps
burning on Sirsya Ghāt, and I desired the boatmen to row to the place; I
had never been on the river before, nor had I seen this ghāt, although
only a stone’s throw from our bungalow, it being hidden by a point of
land.
On reaching the ghāt, I was quite delighted with the beauty of a scene
resembling fairy land. Along the side of the Ganges, for the distance of
a quarter of a mile, are, I should think, about fifty small ghāts, built
with steps low down into the river, which flows over the lower portion
of them. Above these ghāts are, I should imagine, fifteen small Hindoo
temples, mixed with native houses; and some beautifully picturesque trees
overshadow the whole.
The spot must be particularly interesting by daylight—but imagine its
beauty at the time I saw it, at the Festival of Lights.
On every temple, on every ghāt, and on the steps down to the river’s
side, thousands of small lamps were placed, from the foundation to the
highest pinnacle, tracing the architecture in lines of light.
The evening was very dark, and the whole scene was reflected in the
Ganges. Hundreds of Hindoos were worshipping before the images of Mahadēo
and Gŭnéshŭ; some men on the ghāts standing within circles of light, were
prostrating themselves on the pavement; others doing pooja standing in
the river; others bathing. The Brahmans before the idols were tolling
their bells, whilst the worshippers poured Ganges water, rice, oil, and
flowers over the images of the gods.
Numbers of people were sending off little paper boats, each containing a
lamp, which, floating down the river, added to the beauty of the scene. I
saw some women sending off these little fire-fly boats, in which they had
adventured their happiness, earnestly watching them as they floated down
the stream: if at the moment the paper boat disappeared in the distance
the lamp was still burning, the wish of the votary would be crowned
with success; but if the lamp was extinguished, the hope for which the
offering was made was doomed to disappointment. With what eagerness did
many a mother watch the little light to know if her child would or would
not recover from sickness! The river was covered with fleets of these
little lamps, hurried along by the rapid stream.
The stone ghāts are of all shapes and sizes, built by the Cawnpore
merchants according to their wealth. Some are large and handsome—some
not a yard in diameter. A good one, with arches facing the water, is
put aside for the sole use of the women; and all were most brilliantly
lighted. The houses in the city were also gaily illuminated. But to see
the Dewālī in perfection, you must float past the temples during the dark
hours on Gunga-jee. I was greatly pleased: so Eastern, so fairy-like a
scene, I had not witnessed since my arrival in India; nor could I have
imagined that the dreary-looking station of Cawnpore contained so much of
beauty.
The goddess Kālee, to whom this festival is dedicated, is the black
goddess to whom human sacrifices are offered. This evening beholding the
pretty and fanciful adorations of the Hindoos, offering rice and flowers,
and sending off their floating lamps upon the river, I could scarcely
believe the worship could be in honour of Kālee.
I have seen no temples dedicated to her up the country. Her celebrated
shrine is at Kāli Ghāt, near Calcutta. A Hindoo often makes a vow,
generally to Kālee, that if she will grant his prayer, he will not cut
off a particular lock of his hair for so many years; at the end of
that time he goes to the shrine, makes pooja, and shaves the lock: at
particular times of the year, they say, piles of hair are shaved off at
Kālee Ghāt.
When we were residing in Chowringhee we heard of the body of a man, who
had been sacrificed to the goddess, having been found before the image
at Kālee Ghāt. It was supposed he was some poor wanderer or devotee,
possessing no friends to make inquiries concerning his fate. When a
victim is sacrificed, it is considered necessary to cut off the head at
one blow with a broad heavy axe.
At Benares I purchased thirty-two paintings of the Hindoo deities for one
rupee! and amongst them was a sketch of the goddess Kālee.
PHŬLŬ-HŬRĒĒ.
A figure of Kālee, exactly similar to the one purchased at Benares, and
attired in the same manner, I saw worshipped at Prāg under the name of
Phŭlŭ-hŭrēē (she who receives much fruit). She is worshipped at the total
wane of the moon, in the month Jyoishthŭ—or any other month, at the
pleasure of the worshipper. Her offerings are fruits especially. Animals
are sacrificed in her honour, and Jack-fruit and mangoes are presented to
her in that particular month.
The day after the worship the people carried the goddess in state down
to the river Jumna, and sank her in its deep waters: the procession was
accompanied by the discordant music of tom-toms, &c., and all the rabble
of Kydgunge. The image, about three feet in height, dressed and painted,
was borne on a sort of platform.
The goddess is represented as a black female with four arms, standing on
the breast of Shivŭ. In one hand she carries a scymitar; in two others
the heads of giants, which she holds by the hair; and the fourth hand
supports giants’ heads.
“She wears two dead bodies for ear-rings, and a necklace of skulls. Her
tongue hangs down to her chin. The heads of giants are hung as a girdle
around her loins, and her jet black hair falls to her heels. Having drunk
the blood of the giants she slew, her eyebrows are bloody, and the blood
is falling in a stream down her breast. Her eyes are red, like those of a
drunkard. She stands with one leg on the breast of her husband Shivŭ, and
rests the other on his thigh.”
Men are pointed out amongst _other animals_ as a proper sacrifice to
Kālee: the blood of a tiger pleases her for 100 years; the blood of a
lion, a reindeer, or a man, for 1000 years. By the sacrifice of three men
she is pleased for 100,000 years.
Kālee had a contest with the giant Ravŭna, which lasted ten years; having
conquered him, she became mad with joy, and her dancing shook the earth
to its centre. To restore the peace of the world, Shivŭ, her husband,
threw himself amongst the dead bodies at her feet. She continued her
dancing, and trampled upon him. When she discovered her husband she stood
still, horror-struck and ashamed, and threw out her tongue to an uncommon
length. By this means Shivŭ stopped her frantic dancing, and saved the
universe. When the Hindoo women are shocked or ashamed at anything, they
put out their tongues as a mode of expressing their feelings. Nor is this
practice confined to the women of the East alone, it is common amongst
the lower orders of the English.
_18th._—Āghā Meer, the ex-minister of Oude, has come over. His train
consisted of fifty-six elephants, covered with crimson clothing deeply
embroidered with gold, and forty gārees (carts) filled with gold mohurs
and rupees.
His zenāna came over some days ago, consisting of nearly 400 palanquins;
how much I should like to pay the ladies a visit, and see if there are
any remarkably handsome women amongst them!
_19th._—Mr. M⸺ rode my Arab Mootee on the course last night; how
beautiful he looked! not Mr. M⸺, but the horse; there was not a man who
did not turn to admire him; nor was there a horse that might compare with
my Pearl of the Desert.
In consequence of the number of troop horses with the artillery and
regiments of cavalry at this station, riding is almost dangerous,
especially in the early morning, when the horses are out for exercise.
You sometimes see a vicious native horse,—a man-eater, as they call
him,—walking with his eyes bandaged, and led by two natives, one on each
side his head; every now and then, a beast of this description will turn
restive, rear and fight with his fore-feet, and shout out lustily; when
such animals break away from their attendants, they attack other horses,
and become very dangerous. Some gentlemen at the station allow their
sā’īses to carry hog-spears to defend them from loose horses. To-day,
whilst our horses were out in the early morning for exercise, a troop
horse, that had broken loose, attacked our English-imported grey mare;
she galloped off, he pursued her, and the men could not secure him before
he had bitten her severely on the neck in several places, and had cut
her leg. I shall make my sā’īs carry a bamboo in future, lest my Arab
Trelawny should be attacked whilst I am on his back.
_20th._—In the evening I went with Mr. A⸺ to Sirsya Ghāt; whilst we were
sketching the mut’hs (Hindoo temples), about fifty women came down, two
by two, to the ghāt. After having burnt the corpse of a Hindoo by the
side of the Ganges, they came in procession, to lament, bathe, and put on
clean garments; one woman walked in front, reciting a monotonous chant,
in which the others every now and then joined in chorus, beating their
breasts and foreheads in time to the monotonous singing.
They assembled on the steps of the ghāt. Each woman wore a white chudda
(in shape like a sheet), which was wrapped so closely around her that
it covered her body and head entirely, the eyes alone being visible.
Standing on the steps of the ghāt, they renewed their lament; beating
their breasts, foreheads, and limbs, and chanting their lament all the
time; then they all sat down, and beat their knees with their hands in
time to the dirge; afterwards, they descended into the river to bathe
and change their clothes; such an assortment of ugly limbs I never
beheld! A native woman thinks no more of displaying her form as high
as the knee, or some inches above it, than we do of showing our faces.
This being rather too great an exhibition, I proposed to my companion to
proceed a little further, that the lovely damsels might bathe undisturbed.
_25th._—I have been more disgusted to-day than I can express: the cause
is too truly Indian not to have a place in my journal; I fancied I
saw the corpse of a European floating down the Ganges just now, but,
on looking through the telescope, I beheld the most disgusting object
imaginable.
When a rich Hindoo dies, his body is burned, and the ashes are thrown
into the Ganges; when a poor man is burned, they will not go to the
expense of wood sufficient to consume the body. The corpse I saw floating
down had been put on a pile, covered with ghee (clarified butter), and
fire enough had been allowed just to take off all the skin from the body
and head, giving it a white appearance; any thing so ghastly and horrible
as the limbs from the effect of the fire was never beheld, and it floated
almost entirely out of the water, whilst the crows that were perched upon
it tore the eyes out. In some parts, where the stream forms a little bay,
numbers of these dreadful objects are collected together by the eddy, and
render the air pestiferous, until a strong current carries them onwards.
The poorer Hindoos think they have paid all due honour to their relatives
when they have thus skinned them on the funeral pile, and thrown them,
like dead dogs, into the Ganges.
The Musulmāns bury their dead—generally under the shade of trees, and
erect tombs to their memory, which they keep in repair; they burn lights
upon the graves every Thursday (Jumarāt), and adorn the tomb with flowers.
_27th._—As we floated down the stream this evening, I observed the
first ghāt was lighted up, and looked very brilliant, with hundreds of
little lamps; the Dāndees said, it was not on account of any particular
festival, but merely the merchant, to whom the ghāt and temple belonged,
offering lamps to Gunga-jee.
_Nov. 8th._—My husband received an order to return to Allahabad; this
gave us much satisfaction.
_17th._—Mr. S⸺, of the Civil Service, told me to-day, speaking of the
Thugs, “It is about a year ago that Major H⸺, the assistant to the
agent for the Governor-general, had a narrow escape from a Thug. He was
sleeping in his tent at Powergong, a place between Saugor and Dinapore,
when a Thug entered, and put a noose over his head! The gentleman
stirred, and his nightcap prevented the noose slipping over his face; he
awoke, the Thug fled, leaving the noose in the tent, nor were they able
to secure him.”
Mr. S⸺ tells me he has seen, on the Nurbudda, numerous images in stone
of Bhawānī, and that they are very beautiful, she being one of the most
beautiful of the Hindoo idols! I have requested him to send me an image,
or a picture of the goddess, as the likenesses I have seen are any thing
but agreeable. He has been looking over my cabinet of curiosities, and
promises to send me some turquoise he procured at the turquoise mines
in Persia, as specimens of really good stones. He tells me, at those
mines you purchase the stones just as they come from the beds at two
rupees eight ānās a sēr, about five shillings for two pounds’ weight of
turquoise!
I gave him a rough emerald, one of five that I purchased of a native, who
found them in the Soane river, and brought them to the door for sale.
Another fire has taken place in the fort at Allahabad, and sulphur,
valued at two lacs of rupees, melted by the heat, ran over the square
like lava; fortunately the fire did not reach the powder magazine. This
is the second attempt that has been made within the space of a few weeks
to burn the fort; the discharged natives who used to work at the powder
mills are supposed to be the persons who kindled the fires.
The damage done by these fires is much greater than the saving which has
arisen to Government from cutting the pay of the men, or from dismissing
them; so much for economy!
_18th._—To-day, our Mug cook died suddenly after a short illness; the
corpse will be burned, and the ashes thrown into the Ganges; the man
came from Ava. The Mugs are reckoned better cooks than the Musulmāns. He
was an excellent _artiste_ and a good servant; we shall replace him with
difficulty. He professed himself a Hindoo, and during their festivals
would give money, and worship according to their fashion.
During the Muharrum he called himself a follower of the prophet; he gave
forty rupees to assist in building a Taziya, performed all the ceremonies
peculiar to the faithful, and was allowed to be considered a Musulmān for
the time; at the conclusion, when the Taziya was thrown into the river,
he became a Mug again.
_22nd._—With a westerly wind, and the thermometer at 65°, we Indians find
it very cold, the contrast to the hot winds is so great. I have worn a
shawl all the morning, and to-night, for the first time this year, we
have begun fires; and have had the horse-shoe table placed in front of
the fire-place, that we may enjoy the warmth during dinner-time. The room
looks so cheerful, it puts me into good humour and good spirits; I feel
so _English_, without lassitude, so strong and well. My husband has just
sallied out in his great coat to take a very long walk; and the little
terrier is lying under the table, watching a musk rat, which has taken
refuge in a hole under the grate.
_26th._—I have just heard of an occurrence at Lucnow, which is in true
native style. The Nawāb Hukeem Mehndee Ali Khan, the present minister,
poisoned the King of Oude’s ear against one of his people by declaring
that the man betrayed some state secrets and intrigues; the king
accordingly, without judge or jury, ordered the man’s head to be fixed,
and a heavy weight to be fastened on his tongue until the tongue should
be so wrenched from the roots that it should ever after hang out of his
mouth. This brutal punishment was inflicted some two or three months ago,
and the poor creature’s life has been preserved by pouring liquids down
his throat, as, of course, he is unable to eat at present. They have now
discovered the man is innocent! but what does it avail him? His accuser,
the Nawāb Hukeem Mehndee, is rich; money is power. The king is displeased
with the minister, I understand, for his misrepresentations; he is also
on bad terms with the resident,—they do not speak.
Any lady having a horror of the plagues of Egypt would not admire what
is going on at this moment; several lizards are peering about, as they
hang on the window frames, with their bright round eyes; a great fat
frog or toad, I know not which, is jumping across the floor, under the
dinner-table; and a wild cat from the jungles, having come in, has made
her exit through the window, breaking a pane of glass; a musk-rat is
squeaking in the next room, I must go and prevent the little terrier from
catching it: I do not like to see the dog foam at the mouth, which she
always does after killing this sort of rat.
_Dec. 1st._—A marriage has taken place this day, between the widow of the
Mug cook, a low caste Hindoo, old and ugly, and one of our khidmātgars, a
Mahommedān. On account of her caste the man cannot eat with her without
pollution; therefore, having taken her to a mosque, and the kurān having
been read before her, she declares herself a convert. The musulmān
servants have dined with her; she is now a follower of the prophet.
They are very fond of making converts, but the Hindoos never attempt to
convert any one; in fact, they will not admit converts to their faith,
nor will they embrace any other religion; here and there a woman becomes
a musulmāne, on her marriage with a man of that faith.
_5th._—To-day’s news is, that the Governor-general met the 3rd cavalry at
Allahabad, on their march from Cawnpore to Benares. His lordship reviewed
the regiment, and asked the officers to dinner; an invitation they all
refused. This annoyed his lordship very much, being the first display
of _resentment_ manifested towards him on his march by the army, and he
_ordered_ them to dine with him on pain of forfeiting their rank, pay,
and allowances, pending a reference to the Court of Directors. Of course
the officers obeyed _the order_; they were obliged to do so: what an
agreeable party the Governor-general must have had, with guests whom he
had forced to partake of the feast!
_Dec. 11th._—I went to the races at sunrise: the first race was between
two beautiful Arabs; Sultan looked so handsome at starting, and shot
ahead of the other, keeping him in the rear until he very nearly gained
the stand at the end of the three miles; of a sudden his speed relaxed,
the other horse came up, and passed the post just before him. Sultan
looked wild; the jockey dismounted; the horse fell, regained his feet
three times, reared with pain, and, falling again, died in the space of a
minute.
The Cawnpore races have been unfortunate; two years ago, a jockey was
thrown, and broke his neck on the spot. Last year, the favourite Arab
broke his hind leg and was shot: this year, Sultan has been killed, and
two other horses have gone lame.
_13th._—I accompanied some ladies to the riding-school of the 11th
dragoons, and, being much pleased, requested to be allowed to take
lessons with them; afterwards, riding there during those hours that
the school was unoccupied by the dragoons, formed one of our greatest
amusements. As for the corporal, the rough-rider of the 11th dragoons who
attends in the riding-school, his affections are quite divided between my
horse Trelawny and myself; I heard him say the other day, speaking of the
former, “I like that little chap, he looks so _innicent_.”
My sā’īs cannot accomplish putting me on my horse after the English
fashion; therefore, he kneels down on one knee, holding the horse in his
left hand, and the stirrup in the right; I step from his knee to the
stirrup, and take my seat on the saddle; rather a good method, and one of
his own invention.
_Christmas Day._—The house is gaily decorated with plantain trees,
roses, and chaplets of gaudy flowers, but no holly; we miss the holly
and misletoe of an English Christmas. The servants are all coming in
with their offerings,—trays of apples, grapes, kishmish, walnuts,
sugar, almonds in the shell, oranges, &c. The saddler, who is also a
servant, has brought five trays in honour of kishmish (Christmas); these
presents are rather expensive to the receiver, who returns kishmish
bakhshish (Christmas boxes) in rupees; the apples _au naturel_, brought
down at this time of the year by the Arab merchants from Cabul, are
rather insipid, yet the sight is very grateful to the eye; they are
large, fine, and of a roseate hue. The grapes, which are in small
round boxes, are picked off the bunch, and placed in layers of cotton.
The dates are excellent. Kishmish are small raisins without stones,
which have an agreeable acidity; they are known in England as sultana
raisins. These Arab merchants bring pattū, pushmeena, cashmere gloves
and socks, curiously illuminated old Persian books, swords and daggers,
saleb misree, and Persian cats, saffron, and various other incongruous
articles, which are all laden on camels, which they bring in strings, in
large numbers. The men are fine, hardy, picturesque looking personages,
independent in their bearing; and some of the younger ones have a colour
on their cheeks like the bright red on their apples. Their complexions
are much fairer than any I have seen in India.
CHAPTER XVII.
SCENES IN OUDE.
New Year’s Day—Meeting of the King of Oude and the
Governor-General—Visit of Lord William Bentinck to Lucnow—A
Native Christian—Elephant, Tiger, Buffalo, and Bear
Fights—Constantia—Beautiful Buildings—Departure of the
Governor-General—The Padshāh Bāgh—The Royal Hummām—The King’s
Stables—The Party at the Residency—Dil-Kushā—Zoffani’s
Picture—Doves released from Captivity—The Menagerie—A Zenāna
Garden—Letter of Introduction to the Begams at Delhi—Gardner’s
Horse—The Sorrows of the Begam.
1831. _Jan. 1st._—New Year’s Day was celebrated with all due honour at
home, the party separating at 4, A.M.; punch _à la Romaine_ and fine ices
making men forget the lapse of time. The people here are ice-making mad;
I flatter myself I understand the mystery of icefication better than any
one in India.
_5th._—The view from our verandah is remarkably good; the King of Oude,
Ghazee-ood-Deen Hyder, has pitched his tent on the opposite side of
the Ganges, and has constructed a bridge of boats across the river. In
attendance upon him, they say, there are 2000 elephants, camels, and
men in proportionate number; the sides of the river swarm with troops,
animals, and tents.
Early on the morning of the 6th, the Governor-general, Lord William
Bentinck, arrived at Cawnpore; and her Ladyship received the station. We
paid our devoirs; and, in conversation with Lady William on the subject
of the zenāna of the King of Oude, I excited her curiosity so much by my
account of Tajmahŭl, that I feel convinced she will pay her a visit on
her arrival at Lucnow.
_7th._—We were invited to breakfast with the Governor-general, with whom
the King of Oude was to breakfast in state. We rode to the tents—but
let me commence the narrative from the dawn of day. Long before sunrise
the guns and drums in the king’s encampment announced that all were in
preparation to cross the bridge of boats. About 7 A.M. an enormous train
of elephants, camels, and troops crossed over, brilliantly decorated, and
proceeded to the camp of the Governor-general. We then cantered off—I on
the Bokhara grey, who became very impetuous; but, although surrounded
with elephants, camels, galloping horses, and guns firing, I never lost
my courage for an instant: nevertheless, I will play no such game again,
it is too hazardous.
Lord William met the king half-way, and having been invited to enter the
royal howdah, he took his seat on the king’s elephant, and they proceeded
together to the breakfast-tent through a street of dragoons, infantry,
&c. Lady William, with all her visitors assembled around her, was in the
tent awaiting the entrance of the great people; on their arrival, after
the usual embracings and forms were over, we proceeded to breakfast.
The whole scene was one of extreme beauty. The magnificent dresses of the
natives, the superb elephants, covered with crimson velvet embroidered
with gold, the English troops, the happy faces, and the brilliant day,
rendered it delightful.
After breakfast Lord William received all visitors who asked for a
private audience in a separate tent: my husband made his sālām, and
requested permission to visit Lucnow in his Lordship’s train; having
received a kind affirmative, we returned home.
_8th._—The Governor-general returned the king’s visit, and, crossing the
bridge of boats, breakfasted with his majesty on the territories of Oude.
_10th._—Lady William gave a ball to the station.
_11th._—His lordship was invited to dinner—and dined with the eleventh
dragoons, he being their colonel; the next day the Governor-general’s
party commenced their march to Lucnow, the king having quitted the day
before.
_18th._—Having sent on our camels and tents beforehand, we started for
Lucnow, intending to drive the whole distance in one day, for which
purpose we had laid eight buggy horses on the road, the distance being
only fifty-five miles.
Going over the sandy bed of the Ganges, the horse being unable to drag
the Stanhope, we mounted an elephant, which took us some miles; being
obliged to return the elephant, we got into a native cart drawn by
bullocks, and so arrived at the spot where the second horse was laid.
But the horses found it almost impossible to get through the sand, the
country had been so much cut up from the multitudes that had crossed and
recrossed it. In consequence night overtook us in the middle of Oude
without a tent or food, and a dark night in prospect; whilst debating
where to find shelter, we espied a tent in the distance, which proved to
be an empty one belonging to a friend of ours, and there we took up our
quarters.
A boy came forward, and saying, “I Christian,” offered to procure a
chicken and give us a curry, which we ate off red earthen dishes, with
two bits of bamboo as a knife and fork, after the style of chop-sticks. I
must not forget to mention, that after our repast, Christian came forward
and repeated the Creed and the Lord’s Prayer in Hindostanee; he repeated
them like a parrot, but, judging from his answers when questioned, did
not appear at all to comprehend his newly-acquired religion.
The sutrāengī, the cotton carpet of the tent, served to defend us from
the cold during the night; and the next morning we recommenced our
journey, but did not reach Lucnow in time to join the dinner-party at the
Residency, to which we were invited to meet Lady William Bentinck.
Our camels, tents, and horses had gone on in advance. On our arrival,
I found the camel that carried my trunks had fallen down in crossing
part of the river, and both my finery and my journal were soaked in the
stream; much damage was done to the wardrobe—and, as for the journal,
it was quite mouldy and almost illegible: for the benefit of distressed
damsels in a similar predicament, I give a receipt to restore the colour
of faded writing, to which I had recourse with good success on this
occasion[63].
_18th._—The Governor-general breakfasted with the king. The whole party
quitted the Residency on elephants most beautifully clothed, and were
met half-way by his majesty. The scene was magnificent. The elephants,
the camels, the crowds of picturesque natives, the horsemen, and the
English troops, formed a _tout ensemble_ that was quite inspiring. The
Governor-general got into the king’s howdah, and proceeded to the palace,
where breakfast was laid in a fine service of gold and silver. After
breakfast we proceeded to a verandah to see various fights, and, having
taken our seats, the order was given to commence the tamāshā.
THE ELEPHANT FIGHTS.
The river Goomtee runs in front of the verandah; and on the opposite side
were collected a number of elephants paired for the combat. The animals
exhibited at first no inclination to fight, although urged on by their
respective mahāwats, and we began to imagine this native sport would
prove a failure.
[Illustration: ELEPHANT FIGHTS
فاني پارکس]
At length two elephants, equally matched, were guided by the mahāwats on
their backs to some distance from each other, and a female elephant was
placed midway. As soon as the elephants turned and saw the female they
became angry, and set off at a long swinging trot to meet each other;
they attacked with their long tusks, and appeared to be pressing against
each other with all their might. One elephant caught the leg of the other
in his trunk, and strove to throw his adversary or break his fore-leg.
But the most dangerous part appeared to be when they seized one another
by their long trunks and interlaced them; then the combat began in good
earnest. When they grew very fierce, and there was danger of their
injuring themselves, fireworks were thrown in their faces, which alarmed
and separated them, and small rockets were also let off for that purpose.
The situation of a mahāwat during the fight is one of danger. The year
before, the shock of the combat having thrown the mahāwat to the ground,
the elephant opposed to him took a step to one side, and, putting his
great foot upon him, quietly crushed the man to death!
Sometimes the elephant will put up his trunk to seize his opponent’s
mahāwat and pull him off: skill and activity are requisite to avoid the
danger.
The second pair of elephants that were brought in front of the verandah
hung back, as if unwilling to fight, for some time; several natives, both
on horseback and on foot, touched them up every now and then with long
spears to rouse their anger. One of the elephants was a long time ere he
could be induced to combat—but, when once excited, he fought bravely;
he was a powerful animal, too much for his adversary—for having placed
his tusks against the flank of his opponent, he drove him before him
step-by-step across the plain to the edge of the river, and fairly rolled
him over into the Goomtee. Sometimes a defeated elephant will take to the
water, and his adversary will pursue him across the river.
The animals are rendered furious by giving them balls to eat made of the
wax of the human ear, which the barbers collect for that purpose!
The hair on the tail of an elephant is reckoned of such importance, that
the price of the animal rises or falls according to the quantity and
length of the hair on the tail. It is sometimes made into bracelets for
English ladies.
A great number of elephants fought in pairs during the morning; but, to
have a good view of the combat, one ought to be on the plain on the other
side the river, nearer to the combatants; the verandah from which we
viewed the scene is rather too distant.
When the elephant fights were over, two rhinoceros were brought before
us, and an amusing fight took place between them; they fought like pigs.
The plain was covered by natives in thousands, on foot or on horseback.
When the rhinoceros grew fierce, they charged the crowd, and it was
beautiful to see the mass of people flying before them.
On the Goomtee, in front of the verandah, a large pleasure-boat belonging
to his Majesty was sailing up and down; the boat was made in the shape of
a fish, and the golden scales glittered in the sun.
The scene was picturesque, animated, and full of novelty.
In an inclosed court, the walls of which we overlooked, seven or eight
fine wild buffaloes were confined: two tigers, one hyena, and three bears
were turned loose upon them. I expected to see the tigers spring upon
the buffaloes, instead of which they slunk round and round the walls
of the court, apparently only anxious to escape. The tigers had not a
fair chance, and were sadly injured, being thrown into the air by the
buffaloes, and were received again when falling on their enormous horns.
The buffaloes attacked them three or four together, advancing in line
with their heads to the ground. I observed that when the buffaloes came
up to the tiger, who was generally lying on the ground, and presented
their horns close to him—if the animal raised his paw and struck one of
them, he was tossed in a moment; if he remained quiet, they sometimes
retreated without molesting him.
The bears fought well, but in a most laughable style. The scene was a
cruel one, and I was glad when it was over. None of the animals, however,
were killed.
A fight was to have taken place between a country horse and two tigers,
but Lady William Bentinck broke up the party and retired. I was anxious
to see the animal, he is such a vicious beast; the other day he killed
two tigers that were turned loose upon him.
Combats also took place between rams: the creatures attacked each other
fiercely—the jar and the noise were surprising as head met head in full
tilt. Well might they be called battering rams!
_21st._—We visited Constantia, a beautiful and most singular house, built
by General Martine; it would take pages to describe it; the house is
constructed to suit the climate; ventilation is carried up through the
walls from the ground-floor to the top of the building, and the marble
hall is a luxurious apartment. The king having refused to give General
Martine the price he asked for Constantia, the latter declared his tomb
should be handsomer than any palace in his Majesty’s dominions. He
therefore built a vault for himself under the house, and there he lies
buried; this has desecrated the place, no Musulmān can inhabit a tomb.
The monument stands in the vault; a bust of the general adorns it. Lights
are constantly burned before the tomb. The figures of four sipahīs large
as life, with their arms reversed, stand in niches at the sides of the
monument. In the centre of the vault, on a long plain slab, is this
inscription:
“Here lies Major-General Claude Martine, born at Lyons, 1735;
arrived in India a common soldier, and died at Lucnow, the 13th
December, 1800.
PRAY FOR HIS SOUL.”
Claude Martine was a native of the city of Lyons. He was originally a
common soldier, and fought under Count Lally; he afterwards entered
the service of the East India Company, and rose to the rank of a
Major-general. He died possessed of enormous wealth, and endowed a noble
charity in Calcutta, called La Martinière.
The house is a large and very singular building; a motto fronts the
whole, “_Labore et Constantiâ_,”—hence the name of the house.
Returning from this interesting place, we proceeded on elephants to see
the Roomee Durwāza, a gateway built at the entrance of the city, on the
Delhi road, by Ussuf-ood-Dowla; it is most beautiful and elegant, a copy
of a gate at Constantinople.
Near this spot is the Imām-Bārā, a building almost too delicate and
elegant to be described; it contains the tomb of Ussuf-ood-Dowla, the
second king of this family. Within the court is a beautiful mosque.
We were delighted with the place and the scene altogether—the time being
evening, and the streets crowded with natives.
_22nd._—The Governor-general quitted Lucnow at daybreak. On account of
some points of etiquette respecting the queen-mother and the king’s
favourite wife, Gosseina, Lady William Bentinck did not visit the royal
zenāna.
This day we visited a palace called Padshāh-i-Takht, containing the
king’s throne and the banquetting-rooms, a delightful place; on quitting
it we crossed the river to a new house and garden, built by the present
king, called Padshāh Bāgh; of which I must give a description, it being
the most luxurious palace I have seen in India.
A large space has been enclosed as a garden within a high wall; it
contains three houses and two gateways; the first house is a most
delightful one, all you can wish for in such a climate as this; beautiful
rooms, with six fountains playing in them, and everything in fairyland
style; then such an hummām! or steam baths, containing rooms heated to
different temperatures, the heat of each increasing until you arrive at
the steam bath itself.
The apartments are built of white variegated marble, and the roofs
arched; the rooms were so delightful, we felt every inclination to remain
in the hummām, the temperature was so luxurious.
Crossing from this palace to the centre of the garden, we entered
another elegant building, supported on white marble pillars, beautifully
finished, and adorned and furnished with crimson and gold.
On the left of the garden is a third palace, sacred to the ladies of
the zenāna; this house is built of marble, and covered with flower-work
of pounded tālk (talc), which has exactly the appearance of silver,
giving an eastern style to the place. There are two handsome gateways, a
steam-engine to supply the fountains, and a superb tiger in a cage. Every
luxury of life may be contained within the walls of this garden; it is at
present scarcely finished, but displays great taste and beauty.
On our return we visited the king’s stables, and saw 200 horses, amongst
which were some very fine Arabs. His Majesty has 500 horses in his
private stables. This day was one of much fatigue; we were on elephants,
and exposed to the sun throughout the whole day.
_23rd._—Mr. M⸺ invited us to quit our tents, and come into the Residency,
giving us the apartments vacated by the Governor-general, which are
delightful; and here we are installed with some most agreeable people.
First and foremost, our kind host the Resident; Mr. G⸺, the Resident of
Nagpore; Mr. H⸺, the Resident of Delhi; and Col. Gardner, a most charming
old gentleman;—but he will require pages to himself, he is one of _many_
thousand.
But I can write no more—my aide-de-camp, a young Bhopaul Chieftain, is in
attendance, to invite me to ride with the Resident. This little native
chief is a fine intelligent boy about fourteen years of age; he rides
well, on a small horse covered with silver ornaments; and his own dress,
with two and sometimes three swords at his waist, is so curious, I should
like to have his picture taken. The young chief, with his followers,
often attends me on horseback to do my bidding.
The king has a charming park near Lucnow, called Dil-Kushā, or “Heart’s
Delight,” filled with game; deer, nil-gā’ī, antelopes, bears, tigers,
peacocks, and game of all sorts; the drive through it is most agreeable,
the road being kept constantly watered: the house is good, and very
convenient. His Majesty visits the place often for shooting.
Just beyond the park is a second park called Beebeepore, formerly the
residence of Mr. Cherry, who was murdered at Benares.
_24th._—I took a steam bath in true oriental style, which was very
delightful; when the pleasing fatigue was over, I joined a party, and
proceeded to Daulut Khāna, a palace built by Ussuf-ood-Dowla, but now
uninhabited, except by some of the ladies and attendants of the old
king’s zenāna.
We went there to see a picture painted in oil by Zoffani, an Italian
artist, of a match of cocks, between the Nawāb Ussuf-ood-Dowla and the
Resident, Colonel Mordaunt; the whole of the figures are portraits; the
picture excellent, but fast falling into decay.
The next place visited was the country-house of one of the richest
merchants in India, a place called Govinda Bāgh. It is one of the
handsomest houses I have entered, and beautifully furnished, with fine
mirrors and lustres; its painted ceilings are remarkably well done, and
have a very rich effect; the pillars also in imitation of porphyry look
extremely well. The owner, Govind Lall, lives in a mean dirty house, in
one of the meanest gulīs (lanes) in the city, that his wealth may not
attract robbers or cause jealousy.
_25th._—My husband accompanied the Resident and a party to breakfast with
the King, and I called on my charming friend, Mrs. F⸺, in cantonments.
In the evening I accompanied the Resident, in his barouche, drawn by four
fine horses, round the grounds of Dil-Kushā. The carriage was attended by
an escort on horseback; when it passed the guards, arms were presented,
and trumpets blown: and sometimes men with baskets of birds running by
the side of the carriage, let them fly whenever they caught his eye, in
the hope of some reward being thrown to them for having liberated their
captives in compliment to the great man.
To release captive birds propitiates the favour of heaven. A great man
will release prisoners from jail when he is anxious for the recovery of a
relative from illness, or to procure an heir!
The Jānwar Khāna, a menagerie filled with wild beasts, animals of every
sort, and birds in profusion, next attracted my attention. You may talk
of Le Jardin des Plantes, but the Jānwar Khāna at Lucnow is far better
worth visiting. There was an immense Doomba sheep, with _four_ horns, and
such a tail! perfectly enormous.
We paid a visit to the tomb of Saadut Ulee Khan, the king’s grandfather,
a beautiful building, near which is the tomb of the begam, both worth
seeing.
_20th._—I rode with the Resident to his country-house, a short distance
from Lucnow, situated in the midst of delightful gardens; there are about
twenty of these gardens, filled with fine tanks, wells, and beautiful
trees; the Resident contemplates turning them into a park.
_28th._—We went over a zenāna garden; the house, dedicated to the ladies,
was a good one, situated in a large garden surrounded by a high stone
wall. The orthodox height for the four walls of a zenāna garden is,
that no man standing on an elephant can overlook them. The building is
surrounded with fine trees; and a fountain played before it, in which
gold and silver fish were swimming. Near it was an avenue, in which was
a swing, the invariable accompaniment of a zenāna garden. The season in
which the ladies more particularly delight to swing in the open air is
during the rains. I cantered back to the Residency at ten A.M.; the sun
was warm, but I thought not of his beams.
After breakfast, I retired to write my journal (knowing how much pleasure
it would give her for whom it was kept), although I had that delightful
man, Colonel Gardner, to converse with; such a high caste gentleman!
how I wish I had his picture! He is married to a native princess, and
his grand-daughter is betrothed to one of the princes of Delhi. The
begam, his wife, is in Lucnow, but so ill that I have been unable to
pay my respects to her. Colonel Gardner has promised me, if we will
visit Agra or Delhi next year, which we hope to do, he will give me
letters of introduction to some of the ladies of the palace, under
which circumstances I shall have the opportunity of seeing Delhi to the
greatest advantage.
A very fine corps of men, called Gardner’s Horse, were raised by him;
single-handed nothing can resist them, such masters are they of their
horses and weapons. I told him, I was anxious to see good native riding,
and feats of horsemanship; he said, “An old servant of mine is now in
Lucnow, in the king’s service; he is the finest horseman in India. I gave
that man 150 rupees a month (about 150_l._ per annum) for the pleasure
of seeing him ride. He could cut his way through thousands. All men who
know any thing of native horsemanship, know that man: he has just sent
me word he cannot pay his respects to me, for if he were to do so, the
king would turn him out of service.” I asked why? He answered, “There is
such a jealousy of the English at court: as for the king, he is a poor
creature, and can neither like nor dislike. Hakīm Mehndie the minister
rules him entirely, and he abhors the English.”
It is a curious circumstance that many of the palaces in Lucnow have
fronts in imitation of the palaces in Naples and Rome, &c.; and the real
native palace is beyond in an enclosed space.
Being tired with writing, I will go down and talk to Colonel Gardner;
should no men be in the room, he will converse respecting the zenāna, but
the moment a man enters, it is a forbidden subject.
Lucnow is a very beautiful city; and the view from the roof of the
Residency particularly good.
I am fatigued with my ride through the sun; nevertheless, I will go out
on an elephant this evening, and view all the old part of the city. I
like this barā sāhib life; this living _en prince_; in a climate so fine
as this is at present it is delightful.
The subjects of his Majesty of Oude are by no means desirous of
participating in the blessings of British rule. They are a richer,
sleeker, and merrier race than the natives in the territories of the
Company.
What a delightful companion is this Colonel Gardner! I have had the most
interesting conversation with him, which has been interrupted by his
being obliged to attend his poor sick wife, as he calls the begam. She
is very ill, and her mind is as much affected as her body: he cannot
persuade her to call in the aid of medicine. A short time ago, she lost
her son, Allan Gardner, aged twenty-nine years: then she lost a daughter
and a grandson; afterwards a favourite daughter; and now another young
grandson is dangerously ill. These misfortunes have broken her spirit,
and she refuses all medical aid. That dear old man has made me weep like
a child. I could not bear the recital of his sorrows and sufferings. He
said, “You often see me talking and apparently cheerful at the Resident’s
table, when my heart is bleeding.”
We have had a long conversation respecting his own life, and I have been
trying to persuade him to write it. He says, “If I were to write it, you
would scarcely believe it; it would appear fiction.” He is gone to the
sick begam. How I long for another _tête à tête_, in the hope of learning
his private history!
He must have been, and is, very handsome; such a high caste man! How he
came to marry the begam I know not. What a romance his love must have
been! I wish I had his portrait, just as he now appears, so dignified and
interesting. His partiality flatters me greatly.
CHAPTER XVIII.
REVELATIONS OF LIFE IN THE ZENĀNA.
1831.—Pedigree of the Kings of Oude—Lucnow Mohurs—Anniversary
of the Coronation—The Prime Minister—Khema-jah—Feredooa
Buckht—Evil omens—Mossem-ood-Dowla—Largesse—Hārs,
Pān, and Atr—The Zenāna—Sultana Boa—Mulka
Zumanee—Gosseina—Tajmahŭl—Plurality of wives.
Saadut Khan, known at first under the name of Meer Muhammad Ameen,
descended in a direct line from the Imām Mousa Kasim, of the family of
Ali, esteemed in Persia as of the highest and most noble extraction.
During the civil wars, he quitted Khorasān, his native province, and
repaired to Lahore, where he took the name of Saadut Khan. On the
accession of Mahmud Shāh, he was created a noble of the empire, and
Soobadar of Oude, with the titles of “Pillar of the empire, confident
support of the state, Meer Muhammad Ameen Khan, the Glory of War.”
Fortune having proved favourable, he sent for his only sister, the widow
of a nobleman, Jaafer Beg, and her two sons, and bestowed his only
daughter in marriage on the elder brother, the young Nawāb Munsoor Ulee
Khan, commonly called Sefdar Jung, who on the death of his uncle was
confirmed by the king in his government of Oude. He died in 1756, leaving
Soojah-ood-Dowla his son and successor.
Soojah-ood-Dowla, the first prince of the race, died leaving two sons,
Ussuf-ood-Dowla and Saadut Ulee Khan. Ussuf-ood-Dowla ascended the
masnud; he built Lucnow, and most of the palaces around the city, also
the Roomee Durwazah, and the Imām-Bārā; in the latter he was buried.
[Illustration: Pedigree of the Kings of Oude.
فاني پارکس]
The Daulut Khāna was also built by him; in it is his picture, by Zoffani.
In fact, whenever you ask who built this or that place, the answer is
sure to be Ussuf-ood-Dowla.
He died, leaving no issue, and was succeeded by Wuzeer Ulee Khan, an
adopted son, but whom he declared to be his own. Mr. Cherry was at this
time Resident of Lucnow. Sir John Shore deposed Wuzeer Ulee Khan, on
account of his not being the real son of the late king, and raised Saadut
Ulee Khan to the throne, the brother of Ussuf-ood-Dowla.
The deposed Wuzeer went to Benares, and attempted to rouse the natives to
murder all the English. In pursuance of which plan, Ulee Khan came to Mr.
Cherry’s house, he being at that time Resident at Benares, and murdered
him, while sitting at breakfast. The house of Mr. and Mrs. Davis, of
the Civil Service, was attacked. Mr. Davis and his wife ran up a narrow
winding staircase to the roof of the house, where, with a hog-spear, he
defended the door of the staircase, and kept his pursuers at bay until
the arrival of the military from cantonments. The roof of the house
being flat, as is the custom in India, and the narrowness of the winding
stair admitting only one person at a time, Mr. Davis was able to defend
himself, and killed several of the assailants. Wuzeer Ulee Khan was
confined for life in the Fort, in Calcutta, and died a few years ago.
Saadut Ulee Khan, the brother of Ussuf-ood-Dowla, amassed thirteen
millions of money, and left the throne to his son, Ghazee-ood-Deen.
The Nawāb Wuzeer, Ghazee-ood-Deen Hydur, assumed the sceptre by the
advice of his minister, Āghā Meer. He cast off allegiance to Delhi, and
stamped coins in his own name.
The gold mohurs struck by him, bear the following inscription in the
Persian character:—
“Coined in the Royal Treasury of Lucnow, Soubah Oude, in the
3rd year of the great and auspicious reign. Struck in silver
and gold, by the grace of God, the giver of all good, by
Ghazee-ood-Deen Hydur, the Great Lord, the King of Time.”
The crown is placed between two standards, on each of which is a fish:
the standards are supported by leopards: beneath the crown is the
double-handled dagger, a most formidable weapon; and at the base of the
whole are two large fish.
Ghazee-ood-Deen Hydur had no son, and one only daughter, who married her
cousin, and had issue Mossem-ood-Dowla, the true heir to the throne; a
man whom you may see constantly at the present king’s table.
Ghazee-ood-Deen, instead of leaving the throne to his true heir and
grandson Mossem-ood-Dowla, left it to Nusseer-ood-Deen Hydur, a boy
whom the king declared to be his own son by a slave girl; but who, they
say, is in reality the son of a dhobee (washerman) belonging to the
palace. This man is the present king of Lucnow. The English are aware of
these facts. On the decease of the present king, the succession will be
disputed, as he wishes to place a boy, named Khema-jah, on the masnud,
instead of his own son, Feredooa Buckht Moona-jah: but for the history of
these two boys, I refer you to the lives of the wives of the king.
The Muhammadan law allows an adopted son to take the place
of a legitimate son at the pleasure of the parent, by which
law Nusseer-ood-Deen Hydur claimed the throne, and put aside
Mossem-ood-Dowla, the grandson of Ghazee-ood-Deen Hydur.
_29th._—We drove to Barouda, a palace built in the French style; I saw
there nothing worthy of remark, but two marble tables, inlaid in the most
delicate and beautiful manner with flowers of the convolvulus.
_30th._—The Resident and all his party breakfasted with the King on the
anniversary of his coronation, which takes place in any month, and on any
day, according to his Majesty’s pleasure.
During breakfast my attention was deeply engrossed by the prime minister,
the Nawāb Mootuzim-ul-Dowla, Mehndee Ulee Khan Bahadur, commonly called
Nawāb Hakīm Mehndi. I conversed with him at times, and eyed him well as
he was seated next to me, and opposite the King, telling his beads the
whole time, for good luck perhaps; his rosary was composed of enormous
pearls.
His majesty’s hooqŭ was presented to the Nawāb; Lord William Bentinck and
the Resident were honoured with the same: it is a great distinction; no
subject can smoke, unless by permission, in the royal presence. Hooqŭs
are only presented to the Governor-general, the Commander-in-chief, the
Resident, and the Bishop of Calcutta—if he likes a pipe.
Numerous histories respecting the prime minister were current in the
bazār, far too romantic and extraordinary to be believed, of which the
following is a specimen:
“The truth or falsehood of the story rests on the head of the
narrator[64].”
“The dagger in his bosom and salutation in his mouth[65].”
The hakīm (physician or learned man) was formerly employed on a salary
of about twenty rupees a month. The commencement of his enormous fortune
began thus:—He was in tents in the district; a very rich Hindoo was with
him, within the (kanāts) canvass walls, with which tents are surrounded.
This man was said to have died during the night; his corpse was given to
his relations, who were in the camp, to be burned according to Hindoo
custom. There were two black marks round the neck of the corpse. It is a
custom amongst Hindoos to put sweetmeats into the mouth of a dead body.
When they opened the mouth of the corpse for this purpose, within it was
found a finger, bitten off at the second joint. On that very night the
_confidential servant_ of the hakīm lost his finger! The hakīm seized
the man’s treasure, which laid the foundation of his fortune. He next
took into pay a number of thieves and murderers, who made excursions, and
shared the booty with the hakīm. They say the man’s art is such that he
keeps in favour both with natives and Europeans, in spite of his crimes.
Having been unable to bring the Resident over to his views, he is his
sworn enemy, and would give thousands to any one who would poison him.
Many of the servants now standing behind the Resident’s chair know the
reward they might obtain. They would not poison any dish from which many
might eat, the most likely thing in which it would be administered would
be coffee or ice!
After breakfast, the King went into the next apartment, where the
Resident, with all due form, having taken off the King’s turban, placed
the crown upon his head, and he ascended the masnud.
Khema-jah, the eldest boy, about fourteen years of age, is an ill-looking
low caste wretch, with long, straight, lank hair, coarse, falling lips,
and bad teeth. The manners and looks of the boy proclaim his caste. He
was the first person presented to his Majesty, and received four or five
dresses of honour, made of thick Benares gold and silver kimkhwāb, which
were _all_ put upon his person one over the other. A jewelled turban
was put on his head, and a necklace of pearls and precious stones round
his neck; and over all these dresses of honour were placed four or five
pairs of Cashmere shawls. A sword, dagger, and shield were given him; an
elephant, a horse, and a palanquin. Having made his sālām to his majesty,
and offered some gold mohurs, he retired.
The younger boy, Feredooa Buckht, a bold and independent child, then came
forward and received the same presents in the same style.
The khil’ats (dresses of honour) are sometimes given away to dependents
on the same day; this, if known, would be considered an insult.
Then appeared the minister, the Nawāb Hakīm Mehndi: when the first dress
of honour was put on him, it being too small, he could only put in one
arm; and there he stood shaking, perhaps from an idea of its being a bad
omen. The Nawāb prostrated himself before the King, and took off his own
turban; his Majesty himself immediately placed a jewelled one on the
uncovered head of the minister. Imagine the old man, sinking beneath the
weight of years, his head totally bald, and his person overwhelmed with
dresses of honour, shawls, and presents, like those before given to the
young princes: he trembled so much, the elephant-goad fell from his
hand, a sign of his own fall; and the gold mohurs he attempted to retain
in his hands fell at the foot of the throne. The people say there is a
prophecy he will come to an untimely end next February:—“A bad omen ought
not to be mentioned[66].”
When Mossem-ood-Dowla (the true heir) approached, he was coldly received,
and a deep cloud for some time darkened his countenance. Mossem-ood-Dowla
is a fine, handsome man, with a keen eye, and a very intelligent,
good-natured countenance. It was a painful sight to see him do homage to
one who had no right to the throne, but through the power of an unjust
law.
I was standing next to the Resident and the Prime Minister, when, during
a part of the ceremony, a shower of precious stones was thrown over us; I
looked at the Resident, and saw him move his arm to allow the valuables
that had fallen upon him to drop to the ground; I imitated his example
by moving my scarf, on which some were caught; it would have been _infra
dig._ to have retained them; they fell to the ground, and were scrambled
for by the natives; the shower consisted of emeralds, rubies, pearls,
&c., &c.
A magnifique style of largesse!
After all the dresses of honour had been presented to the different
persons, a hār (a necklace of gold and silver tinsel, very elegantly
made,) was placed around the neck of each of the visitors; atr of
roses was put on my hands, and on the hands of some other visitors, in
compliment to the Resident, by his Majesty himself. Pān was presented,
and rose water was sprinkled over us; after which ceremonies, we all
made our bohut bohut udūb sālām[67] to the King of Oude, and took our
departure. The gold and silver tinsel hārs have been substituted for
strings of pearl, which it was customary to present to visitors, until an
order of government, promulgated four years ago, forbade the acceptance
of presents.
THE ZENĀNA.
“LOVE AND MUSK DO NOT REMAIN CONCEALED[68].”
“WHEREVER THERE IS A FAIRY-FACED DAMSEL, SHE IS ATTENDED BY A DEMON[69].”
The following account of the Begams was given me by one whose life would
have paid the forfeit, had it been known he had revealed the secrets of
the zenāna; he desired me not to mention it at the time, or he should be
murdered on quitting Oude.
SULTANA BOA.
“_The_ Queen is the daughter of his Royal Highness Mirza Muhammad Sulimān
Shekō, the own brother of the present Emperor of Delhi, Akbar Shāh.
“From the first day after marriage, neglected and ill-treated, she was
only allowed, until lately, twenty rupees a day; she has now 2000 rupees
a month, but is not permitted to leave her apartments; the servants of
her family have all been discharged, and she is in fact a prisoner.
Neither the King nor any of his family ever visit her, and no other
person is permitted to approach her apartments.
“The lady of the Resident told me, ‘She is a great beauty, the handsomest
woman she ever saw;’ I have seen her sister, and can easily believe she
has not exaggerated. The Queen is now about sixteen or seventeen years
old (1830), and has been married, I believe, about five years.
“Mirza Sulimān Shekō, the father, lived at Lucnow since the time of
Ussuf-ood-Dowla, and was forced by the late King of Oude to give him his
daughter in marriage. The _mehn_ (dower) of the Princess was settled at
five crores[70], and the father had a grant of 5000 rupees a month, which
is not paid; and in June, 1828, the Prince was insulted, and obliged to
quit Lucnow with every sort of indignity.”
MULKA ZUMANEE.
“The second begam is the wife of Ramzānee, a cherkut or elephant
servant, who is now pensioned on thirty rupees a month, and kept in
surveillance at Sandee; some time after her marriage the lady proved
naughty, and was next acknowledged as the _chère amie_ of an itinerant
barber; she left him, and took service with Mirza Jewad Ali Beg’s family
as a servant-of-all-work, on eight anās a month and her food. She was
next heard of as a gram-grinder at ⸺serai, where her eldest son, by name
Tillooah, was born; her next child was a daughter.
“At this time Moonah Jāh (Feredooa Buckht) was born in the palace;
and, amongst others who sought the situation of nurse, Ramzanee’s wife
attended; she was approved of by the hākims, and was installed nurse to
the heir-apparent.
“Her age was then near forty, her size immoderate, her complexion the
darkest; but she soon obtained such influence over the King, that he
married her, and gave her the title of—(the daughter of the Emperor
Furrukshere, and the wife of the Emperor Mohummud Shāh,)—Mulka Zumanee!
Well may she exclaim, ‘Oh Father! I have got into a strange difficulty, I
have left off picking up cow-dung, and am employed in embroidery[71]!’
“She has a jagheer of 50,000 rupees a month, and the power of expending
50,000 rupees more from the treasury monthly. Her son Tillooah was about
three years of age when she was entertained as nurse, but such was her
power, that his Majesty publicly declared himself the father of the boy,
and he was in consequence recognised as heir to the crown, with the title
of Khema Jāh!”
The King has five queens, although by Muhammadan law he ought only to
have four. His Majesty of Oude possesses, to a considerable extent, that
peculiarly masculine faculty of retaining the _passion_, and changing the
_object_.
He heeds not the proverb, “Do not put your beard into the hands of
another[72].”
As far as I recollect the history of his last and favourite wife, it is
this:
The Nawāb Hakīm Mehndi, finding his influence less than usual, adopted
a Nāch girl as his daughter, because the King admired her, and induced
his Majesty to marry her. Her name is Gosseina; she is not pretty, but
possesses great influence over her royal lover. This girl, some fourteen
months ago, was dancing at the Residency for twenty-five rupees a night:
and a woman of such low caste not even a sā’īs would have married her.
The King now calls the hakīm his father-in-law, and says, “I have married
your daughter, but you have not married her mother; I insist on your
marrying her mother.” The hakīm tries to fight off, and says he is too
old; but the King often annoys him by asking when the marriage is to take
place.
“There is no bird like a man[73],” _i.e._ so volatile and unsteady.
The beautiful Tajmahŭl, whom I mentioned in Chapter X., is entirely
superseded by this Gosseina, the present reigning favourite; Tajmahŭl has
taken to drinking, and all the King’s drunken bouts are held at her house.
When he marched to Cawnpore, he took Tajmahŭl and Gosseina with him, and
their retinue was immense. It is said, that the beautiful Timoorian,
Sultana Boa, the Princess of Delhi, was so much disgusted at her father’s
being forced to give her in marriage to Nusseer-ood-Deen Hydur, and
looked upon him as a man of such low caste, in comparison with herself,
that she never allowed him to enter her palace,—a virgin queen.
Her sister, Mulka Begam, married her first cousin, Mirza Selim, the son
of the emperor, Akbār Shah; from whom she eloped with Mr. James Gardner,
and to the latter she was afterwards married. This elopement was the
cause of the greatest annoyance and distress to Col. Gardner, nor did he
grant his forgiveness to his son for years afterwards.
Affairs being in so unpleasant a state at the Court of Lucnow, was the
cause of Lady Wm. Bentinck’s being unable to visit the zenāna; and after
her ladyship’s departure, I was prevented going there by the same reason.
One cannot be surprised at a Musulmān’s taking advantage of the
permission given him by his lawgiver with respect to a plurality of
wives.
The Prophet himself did not set the best possible example in his own
domestic circle, having had eighteen wives! Nevertheless, his code of
laws respecting marriage restricted his followers to four wives, besides
concubines.
In a book published in England, it is observed, “there are some instances
of remarkable generosity in the conduct of good wives, which would hardly
gain credit with females differently educated.” This, being interpreted,
means, a good wife provides new wives for her husband!
The King is very anxious the Resident should patronize Khema Jāh,
his adopted son, and is much annoyed he can gain no control over so
independent and noble-minded a man.
CHAPTER XIX.
THE RETURN TO ALLAHABAD.—EXECUTION OF TWENTY-FIVE THUGS.
“WHO HAS SEEN TO-MORROW?”
_i.e._ Enjoy to-day, no one knows what will happen to-morrow[74].
Removal to Allahabad—Crocodiles—Aurunzebe’s Fort—The Old
Well at Kurrah—Arrival at Allahabad—The Thermantidote—The
King’s Picture and the Celestials—Pattū—Execution of
Twenty-five Thugs—Cholera—The Effect on the Insane—The
Arabian Leprosy—Elephantiasis—Asylums for the Blind and for
Lepers—Lachhmī, the Goddess of Prosperity—Intense Heat—Early
Rising—Danger of a Thermantidote—List of Servants.
1831. _Feb. 1st._—We quitted the Residency at Lucnow, feeling greatly
gratified by the kindness we had experienced from the Resident, and
returned to Cawnpore.
We now prepared for our removal to Allahabad, the horses and carriages
having been dispatched by land; the furniture, &c., was put into six
great country boats, one of which, an immense 900 mŭn patailā, contained
cows, sheep, goats, besides a number of fowls, guinea-fowls, turkeys,
&c.; and on the top of all was a great thermantidote.
_17th._—We quitted Cawnpore, and commenced our voyage down the Ganges.
_18th._—The low sandbanks in the river swarm with crocodiles; ten are
basking on a bank to the left of our boat, and five or six are just
ahead. The sāhib has fired at them several times, but they are beyond the
reach of pistol shot. They are timid animals; as soon as you approach
them they dive down into the river. We have only seen the long-nosed
crocodiles, none of the snub-nosed alligators. What a monster there is
very near us, and such a winsome wee one by its side! I want a baby
crocodile very much for my cabinet.
At Sheorajpore our friends tried to tempt us to remain with them, showing
us a nil-gā’ī, a wild boar, hares, black partridges, and the common grey
partridges, that they had shot; and offering us an elephant to enable us
to join the sportsmen the next day.
How much I enjoy the quietude of floating down the river, and admiring
the picturesque ghāts and temples on its banks! This is the country of
the picturesque, and the banks of the river in parts are beautiful.
On the morning of our quitting Lucnow, my aide-de-camp, the young Bhopaul
chieftain, was made quite happy by being allowed to make his salām to his
Majesty, who gave him a dress of honour.
I can write no more; the sāhib’s vessel has lugāoed, that is, has made
fast to the bank; I must go out shooting with him, and mark the game.
_19th._—We slept off Nobusta; the wind was very high, it blew a gale, but
the high bank afforded us protection. Our boats are large, flat-bottomed,
shallow, and broad country boats, on each of which a great house is built
of bamboo and mats, and the roof is thatched. The interior is fitted up
with coloured chintz, like that used for tents. Such unwieldy vessels are
very likely to be upset in a storm. The great patailā, which contains the
cows, &c., has given us much trouble; she has been aground several times,
being, from her height and bulk, almost unmanageable in a strong wind.
It is very cold, the rain is falling fast; all the servants and the crew
look so deplorable, and keep their shoulders to their ears. The horses on
their march will be exposed to it; they are merely sheltered by a tree at
night,—a cold berth for animals accustomed to warm stables.
_20th._—This has been a day of rain and contrary wind; we have made
but little way, and being unable to reach Mirzapore, have lugāoed off a
sandbank.
_21st._—We breakfasted at Mirzapore, and reached Kurrah at night, where
we moored our little fleet under an old fort built by Aurunzebe. No
sooner had we made fast, than a heavy storm came on, accompanied by
thunder and lightning, hail and rain; the latter was so heavy, it soaked
through the thatch of the bamboo houses on the boats, and rendered us
very uncomfortable. The large patailā was missing, but came in the next
day with her cargo of cows and sheep; from her height she must have been
in danger, as she had not gained the land when the storm came on.
We have moored just below Aurunzebe’s fort, over which I have roamed;
it is an excellent subject for a sketch; the view from the height is
beautiful.
On the other side is an old well, built of the very small Hindostani
bricks; the river has washed away all the bank in which the well was
originally sunk, and it now stands naked on the sand,—a remarkable object.
_24th._—We arrived at Allahabad, and my husband took charge of his
appointment. Then commenced dinner-parties given in honour of our return
by our old friends at the station.
Am I not happy once more in dear old Prāg? We have no troubles as at
Cawnpore; no one poisons our horses; all the people around us appear
pleased at our return, and eager to serve us; our neighbours here are
friends interested in our welfare. My old carpenters, the saddler, the
ironsmith, the painter, the stone-cutter, and the sealing-wax-maker, are
all in their old nooks in the verandah.
_March 1st._—It was so cold we had fires of an evening, which were not
discontinued until the 5th of the month.
Our friend Capt. B⸺ is going home; he will tell those we love of our
goings out and comings in, and will be as a connecting link to those,
betwixt whom and us this great gulph of distance is fixed. It really
requires an exile from home to be able to enjoy its blessings. He will,
or ought to run about almost demented for the first year. Heaven prosper
the good country! I hope to turn Hampshire hog myself, either here or
hereafter, after the Pythagorean system.
The weather is becoming very hot; we are making our house look cool
and comfortable, colouring it with French grey, and hanging pankhās in
preparation for the hot winds. We hope to feel cool by the aid of a
thermantidote, for which we are building a terrace and verandah.
The thermantidote is a structure awful to behold; but we shall benefit
from its good effect; and, like a steam-boat, shall be able to do without
wind, which, with the tattīs commonly in use, is the _sine quâ non_ for
_fraîcheur_.
A thermantidote is an enormous machine for forcing cool air into the
house; it is made of amrā (mango wood), or of sākoo (shorea robusta):
the wheels and axle are of iron. In height, it is about seven feet, in
breadth four or five, and some nine or ten or twelve feet in length.
There is a little machine sold in England, under the name of a
fire-blower, which is on the same principle, and is almost a miniature
thermantidote. It also resembles in some respects a machine for winnowing
corn, but on a larger scale.
The thermantidote, which is hollow, and of circular form, has a
projecting funnel, which is put through and fixed into a window of the
house, from the machine which stands in the verandah.
In the interior, four large fans are affixed to an iron axle, which,
passing through the centre of the machine, is turned round by two men on
the outside; by which means the fans revolve, and force the air out of
the thermantidote through the funnel into the house.
To render the outer air cool, which is thus driven into the house, a
circle of about four feet in diameter is cut out in the planks which
form the two broad sides of the thermantidote; and beyond these circles
khās-khās tattīs are affixed; so that the vacuum produced by forcing the
air out of the machine is supplied by air passing through the tattīs.
On each side of the thermantidote, on the outside at the top, a long
trough is fixed, perforated with small holes in its bottom. Water
is constantly poured into these troughs, which, dropping through the
holes upon the tattīs placed below them, keeps them constantly wetted.
This water is received below in two similar troughs, and, passing
through a little spout at the side, is collected in tubs, or in large
high earthen pans. Coolies are constantly employed in handing up this
water, in thiliyas (earthen waterpots), to other coolies on the top of
the thermantidote, whose business it is to keep the tattīs constantly
dripping wet. By this means, all the air that passes into the body of
the machine through the wetted khās-khās is rendered cool, and fit to be
forced into the house by the action of the fans in their circular course.
The thermantidote stands upon four small wheels, which facilitate the
movement of so cumbersome and ponderous a machine.
Khās-khās was put on the thermantidote to-day; you have no idea how
fragrant, delicious, and refreshing is the scent of the fresh khās-khās,
which is the root of a high jungle grass, called gāndar (andropogon
muricatum). These fibrous roots are thinly worked into bamboo frames,
which fit exactly into the thermantidote, or into windows. These frames
are kept constantly watered, for the purpose of cooling the hot wind;
which, passing through the wetted roots, is lowered many degrees in
temperature, owing to the evaporation that is produced.
Our station is about to be increased by the addition of two Boards; one
of Revenue, and one of Criminal and Civil Justice. The station is already
sufficiently large for quiet society.
We have received the news of a Chinese revolution; or rather the old
squabble, but of a more violent sort, between the Factory and the Hong
merchants. Trade is stopped, and the papers here are talking of the
necessity of fitting out an expedition to chastise the celestials. The
mob broke into the Factory, and, amongst other extravagancies, amused
themselves with spitting at the King’s picture, and then turning it with
its face to the wall!
The Arabs bring down a sort of coarse shawl, called puttuah or pattū;
it is extremely light, and remarkably soft and warm. I was examining
some, intending to purchase it: “This is not a good piece,” said I. “The
name of God is better than this!” exclaimed the man, with indignation;
meaning, nothing is superior to it but the name of God[75].
EXECUTION OF TWENTY-FIVE THUGS.
_May 9th._—The inhabitants at Jubbulpore were this morning
assembled to witness the execution of twenty-five Thugs, who
were all hanged at the same time, arrangements having been
previously made. It would be impossible to find in any country
a set of men who meet death with more indifference than these
wretches; and, had it been in a better cause, they would have
excited universal sympathy.
As it was, there was something dreadful in the thought that
men, who had so often imbrued their hands in blood, should
meet their death with such carelessness. I believe they had
previously requested to be allowed to fasten the cord around
their necks with their own hands; certain it is that each
individual, as soon as he had adjusted the noose, jumped off
the beam, and launched himself into eternity; and those who
first mounted the ladder selected their ropes, rejecting such
as did not please them. One of them, who had leaped off the
beam, and had been hanging for more than three seconds, put his
hand up and pulled his cap over his face.
This is the second execution of Thugs that has taken place
here, but no accident happened this time, nor did a single rope
break.
However satisfied with the justice of their sentence, of which,
from the many sanguinary murders proved, there can be no doubt;
still, it cannot but be lamented that the course of justice is
so slow; as these men, who were this day executed, have been
in prison for more than eight years, for want of sufficient
evidence.
The number of Thugs in the neighbouring countries is enormous;
a hundred and fifteen, I believe, belonged to the party of
which twenty-five were executed, and the remainder are to be
transported; and report says there are as many more in the
Saugor jail.
Too much credit cannot be given to the principal assistants
of this district, who have succeeded in capturing so many of
them; and Capt. S⸺ has the satisfaction of knowing that by his
endeavours these men have been seized.
The extent of murder committed by the Thugs exceeds belief;
and some time since a serjeant-major was murdered by a party
of them. One of the principal assistants, some time ago, when
marching in the district, received information that some bodies
which had been strangled were under his tent, and upon digging,
he discovered a great many!
One of the men who were executed this morning was a chaprāsi,
who had been sent towards Nagpore to seize the party, but who
joined himself with them, and by his presence protected them.
A guard of a company of sipahīs, under the command of Lieut.
G⸺, was in attendance; but there was not the slightest
disturbance, nor did the natives betray the slightest emotion
of any kind, except one Nujeeb, who fainted.
A SPECTATOR.
_13th._—Deep grief and affliction has fallen upon us: the happiness of
our lives is overcast: the stroke of death has deprived us of one beloved
most tenderly.
Our physician has just quitted us: we have had a conversation on the
subject of the dreadful malady that has wrought for us so much misery: he
says,
“Cholera is the endemic of Ceylon: from the year 1813 to 1817 I never
met with it in India. In 1817 it burst out in a madhouse, of which I had
the charge, and the patients confined there died daily, in the course
of a few hours after the first seizure. The horror produced amongst the
unfortunate insane was so great that many became perfectly sane. One
instance was remarkable.
“A man who had attempted to destroy himself in a fit of frenzy, by
cutting his own throat, and stabbing himself, became perfectly sane; and
coming to me, entreated to be allowed to leave the madhouse, as he was
sure he should die of the cholera. It was utterly impossible his request
could be granted at the moment; in the course of the week he fell a
victim to the malady he dreaded.”
Our medical man added, “The causes of cholera are quite unknown. I know
that the disease is often confined to a space of two or three hundred
yards: for instance, deaths occur daily in the madhouse. In the jail,
which contained five hundred prisoners, and was not three hundred yards
distant, not a case appeared. I was so well convinced of the disease
being confined to a certain spot, that I applied for leave to remove all
the insane to a spare room in the jail; from the time of their entering
the jail, not one man died of cholera.
“The environs, as well as the interior of the madhouse were quite clear
and pure; no stagnant water, nothing that could generate disease in any
shape.”
I mentioned that it was supposed our beloved one had been exposed to
the baneful influence of cholera, in passing through Arcot, where it
was known to be. He said, “Certainly not, it would not lurk about a
person twenty-four hours.” Until the moment she was seized she was in
perfect health. “I once saw a man, previously in good health, seized with
cholera; he was sitting in a chair, talking to me: he dropped—his nervous
power quite prostrated; he was perfectly sensible the whole time, and
died in a few hours.”
I asked, if the sufferings were not very great—the physician replied, “I
should think not, from the extreme want of life in the body. The effect
of the illness is such, that the vital spark is almost extinguished
whilst still the body breathes.” He said, “You should not grieve at the
speedy termination of her illness; from severe cholera it is hardly
possible to recover. Those who do recover, generally linger on for twelve
or fourteen days, and then expire in a melancholy state: it is better it
should terminate at once[76].”
It came from Ceylon, and broke out with dreadful severity in 1817;
especially in what _we_ call Bengal, which is 100 miles around the
Presidency; since which time, it has raged partially in Calcutta, and all
the Lower Provinces, also in the higher; but in the Central Provinces, in
which Allahabad is situated, it is very rare, only one case of cholera
having occurred during the last two years at this station.
At Berhampore it is dreadfully prevalent; the 48th regiment quitted this
a short time ago by the river, and lost nine men at that place. No diet,
no care, can avail. Our medical man said, “I can compare it to nothing
but a flash of lightning; its effects are instantaneous; the nerves from
the first moment are powerless, dull, and torpid.”
If I were to be seized with it to-morrow, I should only strive to resign
myself quietly to my fate, feeling, that to strive against the malady is
hopeless: in fever you have hope, in cholera scarcely a shadow of it;
it is better not indulged; but the disease is so powerful it dulls the
senses,—mercifully dulls them.
The cholera is raging at Malda; all the public works are stopped in
consequence.
_18th._—The thermantidote has been put up in our verandah. The rooms
are ten degrees cooler than when we had only tattīs. For the first time
I have been laid up with a strong attack of rheumatism and lumbago. My
medical man says, “The thermantidote pours forth such a volume of cold
air, that if you have fallen asleep near it, it has caused all these
aches and pains. ‘Nulla rosa senza spine.’”
THE ARABIAN LEPROSY (KOOSTUM).
Happily this dreadful disease is not as common as the other forms of
leprosy: but once I beheld a dreadful specimen of its virulence; going
into the verandah at 7 A.M., where the carpenters were all at work, a
close and most disagreeable effluvium annoyed me—the cause could not be
discovered.
Just beyond, in the garden, lay a lump under a black blanket. “What is
this?” said Lutchman, the carpenter, “the smell proceeds from this
lump.” He raised the blanket, beneath it was a leper. Lutchman desired
the man to quit the grounds. The poor wretch held up his hands and showed
his feet; the fingers and toes of which were festering and rotten from
the black Arabian leprosy!
I desired he might be carried to the hospital. “We will not touch him,”
said the servants; “let him go to the leper hospital.” I sent the man
a rupee. “What is the use of a rupee?” said Lutchman, “he cannot enter
the bazār; how can he change it?” I sent him some copper coins. “Perhaps
some one of low caste will bring him food and take the ānās,” said the
carpenter. The poor wretch raised himself, made salām for the money, and
crawled away on his knees and elbows.
The next day he was found dead in a field: some of the copper coins had
been expended, the remainder and the rupee were on his person.
The man had come up from Calcutta on a boat, had been put ashore under
our garden bank, and had crawled up; he had not a cowrie. “There was not
even left a sigh in his heart[77].”
He was totally destitute: but of this I was ignorant, until the next day.
The effluvium was so bad, and the danger of infection so fearful, it was
necessary to remove him at once from the garden.
There is a pink leprosy very common: I have often seen a man—once I saw
two men—bathing amongst a multitude of men and women, their skins were
pink, like the pink of salmon; the disease is not catching, I understand,
and they are not avoided.
Another leprosy shows itself in white spots on their dark skins. I was
practising archery one morning early; suddenly from behind a tree, a
woman came to me, and throwing herself on the ground, laid hold of my
foot with both hands, and bent her head upon it; saying, “Mercy, mercy,
Beebee Sāhiba!” “May you bathe in milk, and be fruitful in children[78]!”
A gentleman present caught me by the shoulder, and pulled me back, at
the same time speaking angrily to the woman. “Do you not see,” said
he, “she is a leper? She is covered with spots, come away, I am very
sorry she touched you.” I gave her some ānās, and told her to go to the
hospital—one established by the contributions of the gentlemen at the
station, and supported by subscription. There is, also, an asylum for the
blind, supported in the same manner.
If I remember correctly, in the course of six weeks after the opening of
the Leper Hospital, it contained sixty patients. I have often walked my
horse round the compound, during my morning ride, to look at the poor
creatures.
The elephantiasis, called by the natives fīl-paī, from fīl, an elephant,
and paī a foot, is sometimes seen in the Up Country, but is not as common
as in Bengal; perhaps the chapāties, thin cakes of unleavened bread which
the natives here eat, conduce more to health than rice, the principal
food in Bengal. However that may be, it is certain so many miserable
objects are not to be seen here afflicted with fīl-paī, as in that low,
marshy, and swampy country.
Divine service is performed at Allahabad, either in the Fort or at the
Circuit Bungalow, the resident families being unable amongst themselves
to raise a sum sufficient to build a handsome church: nevertheless they
are the most liberal contributors to all charitable institutions.
LACHHMĪ, THE GODDESS OF BEAUTY.
There is to be a raffle for an English imported chestnut horse. I have
taken a ticket, but not without first invoking Lachhmī, the goddess
of beauty and prosperity. She who is painted yellow, and dwells in a
water-lily, the goddess of fortunate signs; she who holds the water-lily
in her hands, she in whom all take refuge, the wife of Hŭrēē.
If a man be growing rich, the Hindoos say, “Lachhmī is gone to abide in
his house:” if he be sinking into poverty, “Lachhmī has forsaken him.” If
they wish to abuse a man they call him “Lachhmī-chara,” _i.e._ luckless.
[Illustration: LACHHMĪ THE GODDESS OF BEAUTY.
فاني پارکس]
Vishnoo obtained this goddess of beauty from the sea, when it was
churned by the good and evil spirits for the amrita, or immortal
beverage. Like Venus she arose beautiful from the foam of the ocean,
ascended to the heavens, and captivated all the gods.
In the sketch which I copied from a native picture at Prāg, the beautiful
goddess, seated in a water-lily, is bathing in a novel style. Four
elephants, from their trunks, are pouring the Ganges water over her.
Oh! Lachhmī, send the chestnut horse to abide in my stables! let me
rejoice in Akbal! (good fortune.)
“From the body of Lachhmī the fragrance of the lotus extends 800 miles.
This goddess shines like a continued blaze of lightning!”
It is as well to remark, with respect to this sketch, that at the end
of each of the trunks of the four elephants there is a turn, which, in
the original old Hindoo drawing from which I copied it, I could not
comprehend. In putting it on stone I left those four turns, but not quite
so large as in the original. Since which time I have minutely examined a
marble image in my possession, of _two_ elephants pouring water over the
head of the beautiful goddess, who appears seated on a water-lily, with a
chatr, the emblem of royalty, over her head, and the buds of the lotus in
her hands.
Each of these elephants holds in his trunk one of those long-necked
globe-shaped bottles, in which the pilgrims carry holy water, and from
them they are pouring the liquid. It is possible that the circles that
are indistinct in the Hindoo drawing of the four elephants may have been
the outlines of such bottles.
However, the sea-born goddess is placed in a much more picturesque point
of view, if you imagine her as she appears, floating in the beautiful and
pure blossom of the lotus, while bathed from the trunks of the elephants
with the sacred water of the Ganges.
Since our arrival from Cawnpore, I have never mounted my horse, my
spirits have been too much depressed.
_June 1st._—Finding myself ill for want of exercise, I commenced rising
early; dressing by candlelight, going out by moonlight, and mounting my
horse at half-past 3 A.M.! What an unnatural life! The buggy is always
sent forward to await my arrival at a certain spot; I never draw my
horse’s rein until I arrive at the place, the heat is so much greater
when you walk your horse. I return in the buggy at 6 A.M., go to bed for
a couple of hours, bathe, and appear at breakfast.
How often “Chār vajr, barī fajr,” _i.e._ four o’clock in the early dawn,
sleepy and unwilling to exert myself, have I thought of the proverb:—“Oh,
thou who art so fond of sleep, why don’t you die at once[79]?”
To-day the heat is dreadful; 89° even at the mouth of the thermantidote,
and in the other parts of the house six degrees higher! After my early
canter, I did not quit my chārpāī until 3 P.M., so completely was I
exhausted by the heat.
Although by nature not inclined to the melting mood, I felt as if
I should dissolve, such streams from my forehead, such thirst, and
lassitude; I really “thaw, and resolve myself into a dew.” The call all
day is soda-water, soda-water.
To the 21st of June, this oppressive weather held its sway; our only
consolation grapes, iced-water, and the thermantidote, which answers
admirably, almost too well, as on the 22nd I was laid up with rheumatic
fever and lumbago, occasioned, they tell me, by standing, or sleeping
before it after coming in from a canter before sunrise.
_22nd._—Heavy rain fell, the thermantidote was stopped, and the tattīs
taken down; nor were they replaced, as the rain poured down almost night
and day from that time until the end of the month.
_30th._—We had a party at home: the thermometer during the day 88°; after
dinner it rose to 91°, in consequence of the numerous lamps in the rooms,
and the little multitude of servants in attendance.
A LIST OF SERVANTS IN A PRIVATE FAMILY.
Wages.
No. Rupees per month.
1 A khānsāmān, or head man; a Musalmān servant who purchases
the provisions, makes the confectionary, and superintends
the table 12
2 The ābdār, or water-cooler; cools the water, ices the wines,
and attends with them at table 8
3 The head khidmatgār; he takes charge of the plate-chest, and
waits at table 7
4 A second khidmatgār, who waits at table 6
5 A bāwarchī, or cook 12
6 Mate bāwarchī 4
7 Mashalchī; dish-washer and torch-bearer 4
8 Dhobee, or washerman 8
9 Istree wālā, washerman for ironing 8
10 A darzee, or tailor 8
11 A second tailor 6
12 An ayha, or lady’s maid 10
13 An under woman 6
14 A doriya; a sweeper, who also attends to the dogs 4
15 Sirdar-bearer, an Hindoo servant, the head of the bearers,
and the keeper of the sāhib’s wardrobe; the keys of which
are always carried in his kamarband, the folds of cloth
around his waist 8
16 The mate-bearer; assists as valet, and attends to the lamps 6
22 Six bearers to pull the pankhās, and dust the furniture, &c. 24
23 A gwālā, or cowherd 4
24 A bher-i-wālā, or shepherd 5
25 A murgh-i-wālā, to take care of the fowls, wild-ducks, quail,
rabbits, guinea-fowls, and pigeons 4
26 A mālee, or gardener 5
27 A mate, do 3
28 Another mate, or a cooly 2
29 A gram-grinder, generally a woman who grinds the chanā for the
horses 2
30 A coachman 10
38 Eight sā’īses, or (grooms), at five rupees each, for eight horses 40
46 Eight grass-cutters, at three rupees each, for the above 24
47 A bihishti, or water-carrier 5
48 A mate bihishti 4
49 A Barha’ī mistree, a carpenter 8
50 Another carpenter 7
52 Two coolies, to throw water on the tattīs 4
54 Two chaukīdārs, or watchmen 8
55 A durwān, or gate-keeper 4
57 Two chaprāsīs, or running footmen, to carry notes, and be in
attendance in the verandah 10
-- ---
57 total. Rupees per month 290
-- ---
or about 290_l._ per annum.
During the hot winds, a number of extra coolies, twelve or fourteen, are
necessary, if you have more than one thermantidote, or if you keep it
going all night as well as during the day; these men, as well as an extra
bihishti, are discharged when the rains set in.
We, as quiet people, find these servants necessary. Some gentlemen for
state add an assa burdar, the bearer of a long silver staff; and a sonta
burdar, or chob-dar, who carries a silver club, with a grim head on the
top of it. The business of these people is to announce the arrival of
company.
If many dogs are kept, an extra doriya will be required.
The above is a list of our own domestics, and the rate of their wages.
The heat of the climate, added to the customs and prejudices of the
natives, oblige you to keep a number of servants; but you do not find
them in food as in England. One man will not do the work of another,
but says, “I shall lose caste,” which caste, by the bye, may be regained
by the expenditure of a few rupees in a dinner to their friends and
relatives. The Mohammadan servants pretend they shall lose caste; but, in
fact, they have none: the term is only applicable to the Hindoos.
If your khānsāmān and sirdar-bearer are good and honest servants, you
have little or no trouble with an Indian household; but, unless you are
fortunate with your head servants, there is great trouble in keeping
between fifty or sixty domestics in order.
CHAPTER XX.
SCENES AT ALLAHABAD—PILGRIMAGE TO THE TRIVENI.
The old Brahman—The Triveni—The Achivut—The Pātal
Pooree—Temples of Bhardoajmun—Radha Krishnŭ—Hindoo oath—The
Tulsī—The Peepul-tree—The Letin leaves—Lamps in the
air—Paintings on Ubruk—Impressions on leaves and flowers—The
Mootee Musjid—The Crows a pest—Byā birds—Haymaking—The
silver Tankard—An Earthquake—Transferring diseases to
flowers—Perjury—Farming operations—Oats—Bhoodder Ram the
Dwarf—The Camel—The Powder-works and Rocket manufactory.
1831, _July 6th._—I study the customs and superstitions of the Hindoos so
eagerly, that my friends laugh and say, “We expect some day to see you at
pooja in the river!”
In one of the temples near the Circuit bungalow, I was surprised at
seeing two small brazen figures of Krishnŭ and his love Radha, or, to
speak more correctly, of Radha Krishnŭ, dressed up in silks and satins.
Making a reverence, “Salāmut,” I exclaimed, in Hindostani, “yah! yah!”
“Oh, my father, what a beautiful Krishnŭ is this! and there is Radha the
beloved. This is, indeed, a Krishnŭ; I never saw so beautiful a fellow!”
The old Brahman made many salāms and reverences, exclaiming, “There is an
excellent mem sāhiba! she understands all, she understands every thing!”
As Krishnŭ of yore charmed every woman who beheld him, so that quitting
all on earth they followed and worshipped him alone, I suppose the old
Hindoo imagined his god still retained the power of fascination.
PILGRIMAGE TO THE TRIVENI.
The Hindoos think it most meritorious to make a pilgrimage to the holy
city of Prāg (Allahabad); but this is not perfect, unless they visit
three different places on that spot:
1st. The junction of the Ganges and Jumna.
2nd. The holy Achibut, or Akhivut.
3rd. The temples of Bhardoajmun.
One of the holiest spots of the Ganges is where it joins the Jumna
(Yamuna), just below the fort. The Saraswati is supposed to unite with
them _underground_, whence the junction is called Triveni or Tribeni.
This spot is deemed so holy that a person dying there is certain of
immediate _moskh_ or beatitude, without risk of further transmigration.
There is a mythological representation of the Triveni, or mystical union
of the three divine rivers personified,—“Gunga, Yamuna, Saraswati.” The
drawing represents a female with three heads and six arms, riding astride
upon a fish. The Hindoos say the Ganges and Jumna unite above ground;
the Saraswati joins them below; this they see with the eye of faith. In
reality, the Saraswati falls into the Jumna a little below Delhi; and,
_therefore_, they all three unite below the fort at Prāg. Saraswati, the
wife of Vishnoo, by the curse of a Brahman was turned into the river
which bears her name.
The Purānas declare that the sight, the name, or the touch of Gunga takes
away all sin, however heinous; that thinking of Gunga when at a distance
is sufficient to remove the taint of sin; but that bathing in Gunga has
blessings in it, of which no imagination can conceive. At the Tribeni
they bathe and make pooja.
THE HOLY ACHIBUT.
This tree grows in, or is enclosed within the walls of the fort, in
such a manner that you cannot see it from any place. They take you into
a room, which was formerly one of an hummām, or steam bath. This room
is called the Achibut chamber, and there, with the eye of faith, the
pilgrims behold the everlasting tree; which they believe has been there
from the beginning of time, and will remain there to all eternity. They
showed me a crack in the roof, and said, “Do you not see the branch of
the tree has cracked the roof in three places?” I certainly saw three
cracks, but whether from a tree or ivy I cannot say; not a leaf was
visible. The door of this chamber has been blocked up, on account of a
native in the collector’s office wishing to put up his idol there; the
man is a worshipper of Parisnāth, the god of the _heretical_ Hindoos.
No orthodox Hindoo will worship in a temple where there is an image of
Parisnāth; and as this man had raised an altar in the Achibut chamber,
and wished to place his idol thereon, it caused a great commotion; to
quell which, the Commandant of the fort bricked up the door, and has
never allowed the people entrance since that time.
There are about four hundred heretical Hindoos at Prāg; I did not know
until to-day such a caste existed.
The sacred Achibut is the bér, or great banyan tree, the Ficus Indica;
the burgot of the Mahrattas; the Portuguese arbor de rayz, _i.e._ the
rooting-tree. It is sacred to Vishnoo, who was born on its leaves. It is
called the rooting tree, from the circumstance that it propagates itself
by letting a kind of gummy string fall from its branches, which takes
root, grows large, and by this means the branches often spread to a vast
circuit, affording the most delightful shade in a hot climate; it is one
of the largest and most majestic trees in the world.
At the gate of the magazine is a very fine young bér tree. Although
sacred to Vishnoo, the preserver, nevertheless, it is said that “a demon
resides under a bér tree.[80]” The goblin attached to this tree is
reported to be exceedingly obstinate. Demons or goblins are said to be
attached to different places; as to Musans, or places where the dead are
burned; and to various trees and shrubs.
There is a remarkable passage in the Brahma Purāna, respecting the
Achibut.
“Let the man who is afflicted with a grievous and incurable disease enter
a burning fire, or procure his death by starvation, or by plunging into
unfathomable waters, or by precipitating himself from an eminence, or
by ascending to Paradise by a respectful pilgrimage to the Himalaya
mountains; whoever relinquishes life under these circumstances,—by
precipitating himself from the sacred bér tree at Prāg (Allahabad), or
his time being come destroys himself; that high-minded person shall
receive a great reward in the future state, and shall not be considered
a suicide; even although he may have been a great sinner, he shall meet
with supreme bliss in Paradise.”
The pooja of the Achibut takes place on the 9th of June (jet ke pondrah
tarik). All bér trees are holy; no Hindoo will cut them.
On the outside of the magazine is a subterraneous passage, called Pātal
Pooree; it is built of stone. From the entrance, you pass down a long
stone passage, the walls of which on both sides are covered with idols;
you arrive at a chamber, supported by pillars; in this place there are
forms of Mahadēo, that are worshipped.
When the Achibut chamber was blocked up, the Brahmans set up the stump of
a bér tree in the Pātal Pooree, and declared that it was a branch of the
real Achibut, that had penetrated through the walls.
They certainly have established it firmly in that situation, making good
the proverb, “Its roots have already reached to Pātal[81]” (the infernal
regions). The morning I visited the Pātal Pooree, I saw this stump,
which must have been freshly worshipped, as the earth at its base was
covered with oil, ghee, boiled rice, and flowers. The passage itself,
and the chamber also, were oily, dark, very hot, and slippery: we saw
it by lamp-light; the chirāgh (lamp) was carried by a portly Brahman,
who has charge of the place, and makes much money during the time of the
fair. The resident Hindoos of Prāg, who know the trick the Brahmans have
played, do not pooja the false Achibut. In this place is the mysterious
passage which they say leads underground to Delhi; devotees were making
pooja before it.
THE TEMPLES OF BHARDOAJMUN.
The third holy spot visited by the devotees are some mhuts, Hindoo
temples, about two miles from the fort, near the circuit Bungalow.
This spot was formerly the abode of Bhardoajmun, a fakir, and here
he displayed his red flag from a bamboo. This Bhardoajmun was a very
holy man; after his departure, or after his ashes had been consigned
to Gunga-jee, some temples were raised on the spot, and dedicated to
Mahadēo, the great god. There are three principal mhuts, in one of which
is a white marble image or form of Mahadēo, with four faces, very well
executed. In the second is an image in stone of the old fakir himself,
about fifteen inches high, to which divine honours are paid. There are,
counting all the small mhuts, some nine or ten temples, under the shade
of very fine tamarind trees, which are very picturesque. The eyes of the
images are covered with thin silver plates, and the eyes themselves are
about five times larger than the natural size; in one of the temples the
face of the idol was covered or made of a thin plate of gold.
One of the temples is dedicated to Varaha, an avatār or incarnation of
Vishnoo; and represents a man with a boar’s head, on whose tusks rests a
crescent, containing in its concavity an epitome of the earth, which had
been immerged in the ocean as a punishment for its iniquities,—the story
of the deluge. Vishnoo, in the form of a boar, dived into the abyss, and
restored the earth on the points of his tusks. This is the first temple
I have seen dedicated to Varaha: also, for the first time, I here saw
a shrine, sacred to Radha Krishnŭ, the wife of a cowherd, whom Krishnŭ
carried off from her husband to a forest on the banks of the Jumna, where
they resided for some time; she has been deified with the god, and her
image is worshipped at his festivals. If a Hindoo be charged with any
particular act, of which he wishes to express his abhorrence, he exclaims
“Radha Krishnŭ!” Many persons repeat, “Ram, Ram, Ram!” on such occasions,
but no one says Seeta Ram; yet, when Krishnŭ’s name is to be repeated
they always join to it that of his beloved Radha. It has passed into a
proverb, “Apne Radha ko yad ker.” As Krishnŭ always thought of Radha, so
they say, “Attend to your own Radha[82],” either in anger or laughingly;
_i.e._ attend to your own business.
What a noise the people are making! a Hindoo is taking an oath. The man
is holding in both hands a lota, a brass drinking vessel, filled with
Ganges water, on which is placed a sprig of the sacred tulsī, and by
Gunga-jee he swears. I would bet ten to one all he is swearing is false,
from the elevation of his voice, and his insisting so strongly on its
being true. In the plate, entitled “The Thug’s Dice,” figure 4 represents
a highly ornamented small brass lota, containing the Ganges water, and a
sprig of the kālā tulsī on the top of it.
The tulsī or tulasī is a native of India, and there are several sorts
of it. The kālā tulsī, purple-stalked basil, (ocymum sanctum,) is more
especially worshipped by the Hindoos, and is the most sacred of all the
tulsīs. The Malays cultivate this plant with care, for the purpose of
strewing on graves; it is highly aromatic.
Suffaid tulsī, white basil, or Indian tea, (ocymum album,) seldom rises
more than a foot high; the stem is of a greenish white colour, and woody
at the base; the leaves, which are two or three inches long, have an
aromatic taste and agreeable smell.
Mummerree, or nazbo, (ocymum pilosum,) ciliated basil: the scent is
delicious and powerful; the bruised leaves have an odour resembling that
of lemon. The Baghuts (a class of Hindoos who neither eat meat nor drink
wine,) wear rosaries made of the root of the tulsī. These plants are all
considered sacred. But to return to the man of whose veracity I felt in
doubt: Their own proverbs condemn the Hindoos: “What need of economy in
telling lies[83]?” and to a man who has an unconquerable habit of lying,
they apply a very singular proverb[84].
THE PEEPUL TREE (FICUS RELIGIOSA).
A peepul tree grows on the banks of the Jumna, just in front of our
house; the fine old tree moans in the wind, and the rustling of the
leaves sounds like the falling of rain; this is accounted for by the
almost constant trembling of its beautiful and sacred leaves, which is
occasioned by the great length and delicacy of the foot stalks; whence it
is called Chalada, or the tree with tremulous leaves. The leaves are of a
beautiful bright glossy green, heart-shaped, scalloped, and _daggered_;
from their stalks, when gathered, a milky juice pours out; on wounding
the bark of the trunk this milk is also poured out, with which the
natives prepare a kind of birdlime.
There is a remarkable similarity between the Ancient Britons and
the Hindoos: on the sixth day of the moon’s age, which is called
Aranya-Shashti, “women walk in the forests, with a fan in one hand,
and eat certain vegetables, in hope of beautiful children. See the
account, given by Pliny, of the druidical misletoe, or viscum, which
was to be gathered when the moon was six days old, as a preservative
from sterility[85].” The Hindoo women eat the fruit of the peepul tree,
and believe it to have the same wondrous qualities. There is another
similarity between the hill tribes and the Ancient Britons, which will be
mentioned hereafter. The peepul is sacred to Vishnoo, one of the Hindoo
Triad; they believe a god resides in every leaf, who delights in the
music of their rustling and their tremulous motion.
During the festival of the Muharram, the followers of the prophet suspend
lamps in the air, and in their houses, made of the skeleton leaves of
the peepul tree, on which they paint figures; some of these lamps are
beautifully made; no other leaves will form such fine and delicate
transparencies; I have tried the large leaf of the teak tree, but could
not succeed as well with it as with that of the ficus religiosa. The
Chinese paint beautifully on these leaves, first putting a transparent
varnish over them. At Schwalbach, in Germany, I purchased skeleton leaves
of the plane, in the centre of which the figure of Frederick the Great
was preserved in the green of the leaf, whilst all around the skeleton
fibres were perfect; how this is accomplished, I know not. The skeleton
leaves are very beautiful, and easily prepared[86].
The peepul is universally sacred; the Hindoo women, and the men also, are
often seen in the early morning putting flowers in pooja at the foot of
the tree, and pouring water on its roots. They place their idols of stone
beneath this tree, and the bér (banyan), and worship them constantly; nor
will they cut a branch, unless to benefit the tree.
The native panchāyats (courts of justice) are often held beneath it. The
accused first invokes the god in his sylvan throne above him, to destroy
him and his, (as he himself could crush a leaf in his hand,) if he speak
anything but the truth; then gathering and crushing a leaf, he makes his
deposition.
The Hindoos suspend lamps in the air on bamboos, in the month Kartiku, in
honour of their gods; these lamps are generally formed of ubruk (talc).
Sometimes they are formed of clay, pierced through with fretwork, in
remarkably pretty patterns. This offering to all the gods in this month
procures many benefits, in their belief, to the giver; and the offering
of lamps to particular gods, or to Gunga-jee, is also esteemed an act of
merit.
Speaking of ubruk reminds me of the many uses to which it is applied.
The costumes of native servants, Nāch women and their attendants, the
procession of the Muharram, the trades, &c., are painted upon it by
native artists, and sold in sets; the best are executed at Benares.
By the aid of ubruk, drawings can be very correctly copied; they are
speedily done, and look well[87]. We also used ubruk in lieu of glass for
the windows of the hummām.
It was a source of great pleasure to me, at Allahabad, to ride out long
distances in the early morning, hunting for rare plants and flowers; on
my return I took off the impressions in a book of Chinese paper, and
added to it the history of the tree or plant, its medicinal virtues,
its sacred qualities, and all the legends attached to it, that I could
collect[88].
_From the Calcutta_ John Bull, _July 26th, 1831._
“The Governor-general has sold the beautiful piece of
architecture, called the Mootee Musjid, at Agra, for
125,000 rupees (about £12,500), and it is now being
pulled down! The taj has also been offered for sale!
but the price required has not been obtained. Two lacs,
however, have been offered for it. Should the taj be
pulled down, it is rumoured that disturbances may take
place amongst the natives.”
If this be true, is it not shameful? The present king might as well sell
the chapel of Henry the Seventh in Westminster Abbey for the paltry sum
of £12,500: for any sum the impropriety of the act would be the same. By
what authority does the Governor-general offer the taj for sale? Has he
any right to molest the dead? To sell the tomb raised over an empress,
which from its extraordinary beauty is the wonder of the world? It is
impossible the Court of Directors can sanction the sale of the tomb for
the sake of its marble and gems. They say that a Hindoo wishes to buy
the taj to carry away the marble, and erect a temple to his own idols at
Bindrabund!
The crows are a pest; they will pounce upon meat carried on a plate, and
bear it off: they infest the door of the Bawarchī Khānā (cook room), and
annoy the servants, who retaliate on a poor kawwā, if they can catch one,
by dressing it up in an officer’s uniform, and letting it go to frighten
the others. The poor bird looks so absurd hopping about. Sometimes they
drill a hole through the beak, and passing a wire through it, string
thereon five cowries; this bears the poor crow’s head to the ground, and
must torture it. Such cruelty I have forbidden. The crow is a bird of ill
omen.
On a babūl-tree in the grounds are twelve or fifteen beautiful nests
pendant from the extremity of slender twigs—the habitations of a little
community of Byā birds. I took down three of the nests; they contained
two, three, and four little white eggs; the parent birds made a sad
lament when the nests were taken. If you take a nest with the young birds
in it, the parent bird will follow and feed them. The natives consider
it highly improper to shoot the Byā birds; they are sacred, and so
tame. One of my servants has brought me a young bird, it flies to my
hand when I call it. There is a pretty fable which says, “The old birds
put a fire-fly into their nests every night to act as a lamp.” Perhaps
they sometimes feed their young on fire-flies, which may be the origin
of the story. It is pleasing to imagine the sacred birds swinging in
their pretty nests pendant from the extreme end of a branch, the interior
lighted by a fire-fly lamp. The Byā bird is the Indian yellow-hammer; the
nests I speak of are almost within reach of my hand, and close to the
house. For the shape of the nests, see the sketch entitled “The Spring
Bow.” They are of grass beautifully woven together, and suspended by a
long thin tapering end, the entrance hanging downwards. In the nests
containing the young, there is no division, the swelling on the side
is the part in which the young ones nestle together. Some of the nests
appear as if they were cut short off: these are purposely built so, and
contain two apartments, which are, I suppose, the places where the parent
birds sit and confabulate on the aspect of affairs in general. The birds
are very fond of hanging their nests from slender twigs, over a pool of
water, as in the sketch, the young birds thus being in greater safety.
The wood of the babūl (acacia Arabica) is extremely hard, and is used by
the Brahmans to kindle their sacred fire, by rubbing two pieces of it
together, when it is of a proper age, and sufficiently dried. It produces
the Indian gum Arabic. The gold ear-rings made in imitation of the flower
of the babūl, worn by Indian women, and by some men also, are beautiful.
My ayha is ill with cholera: there is no hope of her recovery. The
disease came across the Jumna, about four miles higher up than our
house, and is regularly marching across the country to the Ganges: as it
proceeds no fresh cases occur in the villages it leaves behind.
The old peepul moans and rustles in the wind so much, that deceived by
the sound, we have often gone into the verandah joyously exclaiming
“There is the rain!” To our sorrow it was only the leaves of the tree
agitated by the wind.
In such a climate and during the hot winds, you cannot imagine how
delightful the noise of the wind (like rain) in the old peepul appeared
to us, or the lullaby it formed. It is a holy tree, every leaf being
the seat of a god. They do not listen to the music of its rustling with
greater pleasure than I experience; indeed, my _penchant_ for the tree is
so great, I am half inclined to believe in its miraculous powers.
_August 31st._—The ice has lasted four months and fifteen days, which we
consider particularly fortunate. It was opened the 15th of April.
_Oct._—We are collecting grass and making hay for use during the hot
winds. The people cut the grass in the jungles, and bring it home on
camels. We have one stack of hay just finished, and one of straw.
“Bring me the silver tankard.” “I have it not, I know not where it is,”
said the khidmatgār. The plate-chest was searched, it was gone.
It was the parting gift of a friend; we would not have lost it for fifty
times its value. The servants held a panchāyat, and examined the man who
had charge of the plate. When it was over, he came to me, saying, “I had
charge of the tankard—it is gone—the keys were in my hands; allow me to
remain in your service; cut four rupees a month from my pay, and let
another silver cup be made.” The old man lived with us many years, and
only quitted us when he thought his age entitled him to retire on the
money he had earned honestly and fairly in service.
My tame squirrel has acquired a vile habit of getting up the windows and
eating all the flies; if he would kill the musquitoes, it would be a
very good employment, but he prefers the great fat flies—a little brute.
The little squirrel is the only animal unaffected by the heat; he is as
impudent as ever, and as cunning as possible.
_Oct. 24th._—A slight earthquake has just taken place—this instant. I did
not know what was the matter; there was a rumbling noise for some time,
as if a carriage were driving over the roof of the house. My chair shook
under me, and the table on which I am writing shook also. I became very
sick and giddy, so much so, that I fancied I had fallen ill suddenly.
When the noise and trembling ceased, I found I was quite well, and the
giddy sickness went off. I never felt the earth quake before. Every one
in the house was sensible of it. At the Circuit bungalow, nearly three
miles off, it was felt as much as on the banks of the Jumna.
In a native family, if a person be ill, one of the relations takes a
small earthen pan, filled with water, flowers, and rice, and places
it in the middle of the road or street, in front of the house of the
sick person, believing that if any one _en passant_ should touch the
offering, either by chance or design, the illness would quit the sufferer
and cleave to the person who had touched the flowers or the little pan
containing the offering. A native carefully steps aside and avoids coming
in contact with the flowers.
To-day, a man was punished for perjury in this manner; he was mounted
on a donkey, with his face to the tail of the animal; one half of his
face was painted black, the other white, and around his neck was hung a
necklace of old shoes and old bones. Surrounded by a mob of natives, with
hideous music and shouts, he was paraded by the police all through the
town! An excellent punishment.
Our farming operations commenced last September. On the banks of the
Ganges, near the fort, we planted thirty beeghās with oats, and expect
a crop sufficient to feed our horses and sheep, with plenty of straw to
cut into bhoosa. The oats are not so large and heavy as those of England,
nevertheless, very good. During the hot weather, we give our horses half
oats half gram (chanā); in the cold season, oats and carrots; the latter
are remarkably fine, we purchase them by the beeghā. A beeghā, or bīghā,
is a quantity of land, containing twenty katthās, or 120 feet square.
In Calcutta, oats are procurable in abundance, and are usually to be had
at those stations where there are race-horses; but they are not generally
cultivated, and where they are a novelty the natives speak of them as
“wheat gone mad.” At Allahabad, the gentlemen at the station cultivate
large quantities on the river side.
I have just taken a sketch of a dwarf, a Hindoo, called Bhoodder Ram; he
is fifty years of age, is married, and has a tall son, aged twelve years.
Bhoodder Ram measures three feet one inch and seven-eighths of an inch in
height; his face bears the stamp of more than his age; his body is like
a child’s; he is a native of Gyah. His brother, a tall man, accompanied
him; the dwarf rode on a little pony. I asked him, “How old is your
wife?” He answered, “She is tall, and like your sirdar-bearer,—as old
as he is; and her face resembles his as nearly as nineteen is equal to
twenty!” The dwarf is of low caste; he makes a great deal of money by
asking charity, and travelling about the country.
I questioned him as to whom he made pooja to: he said, “God has made me
little, and I go about asking charity; I was never taught how to make
pooja to any god.” He wears a turban of gold and silver tinsel; but some
foolish people, instead of allowing him to wear an Hindoo dress, have
decked him out in the blue cloth frock and linen trowsers of an European
child; a crimson scarf is thrown over his shoulders, and in his ears are
gold hoops.
A man from Cabul passed me this morning, leading a beautiful high caste
camel, with two humps on its back: the animal was very handsome, its hair
remarkably long. I wished to sketch it, but the Arab was too great a
gentleman to come out of his way for a rupee. The animals in general use
have only one hump; they are, in fact, dromedaries, although generally
called camels. The dokaha (camelus bactrianus), the real camel, has two
humps or elevations on the back.
_Nov. 7th._—We took the hounds to Papamhow, and soon found a jackal
in the grounds: he took shelter in a field of joār or jwār, millet
(andropogon sorghum), from which he could not again be started. Hounds
in this country are extremely expensive; it is scarcely possible to keep
them alive. Out of eight couple brought from England and added to the
pack at Allahabad a few months ago, only three couple are alive. We
rode over the grounds: how deserted they looked! the flowers dead, the
fountain dry.
“’Twas sweet of yore to see it play
And chase the sultriness of day;
As springing high, the silver dew
In whirls fantastically flew,
And spread luxurious coolness round
The air, and verdure on the ground.”
“Demons take possession of an empty house[89];” the place is a
wilderness. The old Brahman, who lives at a picturesque temple in the
grounds by the side of the Ganges, did not remember me; he spoke in the
warmest terms of the agent for gunpowder to the Government, who formerly
lived here; and said he prayed to Mahadēo to send him back to Papamhow,
as the natives had never had so good a master, either before or since.
A fair is annually held in these grounds, at which period the old Brahman
reaps a plentiful harvest of paisā. The people who attend the fair make
pooja at his little temple. The old man had an idiot son, who, having a
great dislike to clothes, constantly tore all his attire to pieces; in
the sketch, entitled Adansonia Digitata, he is represented in his usual
attitude, with both arms stretched out, remonstrating (after his fashion)
with his father, on the impropriety of wearing clothes. The poor boy was
speechless, but not dumb, for he could utter the most horrible sounds:
and when enraged at his father’s attempting to clothe him, he would
howl, make angry gestures, and tear off the obnoxious attire. During
the time of the fair, the groups of natives, of horses, and odd-looking
conveyances are very picturesque beneath the spreading branches of the
great Adansonia trees.
Our friend was not only agent for gunpowder, but also, by the order of
Government, he had established a manufactory for rockets at Papamhow,
in consequence of the congreve rockets sent from England having proved
unserviceable. He was obliged to make many experiments, to suit the
composition to our burning climate, and to test the result of exposure
to the sun. When the trials were to be made, and the rockets proved, I
often went down upon the white sands in the bed of the river, to see the
experiments.
The Ganges is from forty to forty-five feet deeper during the rains than
during the dry season; and banks of the finest white sand, of immense
extent, are left dry for many months in the bed of the river when the
rains have passed away. The sands extended three or four miles, and being
without cultivation or inhabitants, were exactly suited to the purpose.
When the rockets were laid upon the sands, and fired, it was beautiful to
see them rushing along, leaving a train of fire and smoke behind them;
the roar of the large rockets was very fine,—quite magnificent.
When the rockets were fired from an iron tube at an elevation, it was
surprising to see them ranging through the air for a mile and a half or
two miles before they came to the sands, where, a certain distance being
marked by range pegs at every fifty yards, the extent of their ranges
was accurately ascertained: one of the large rockets ranged 3700 yards,
upwards of two miles. I should think they would prove most formidable
weapons in warfare.
_Nov. 14th._—Some natives have just brought a lynx to the door,—such a
savage beast! it was caught in the grounds of the circuit Bungalow; the
first animal of the sort I have beheld. At Papamhow we found a wolf, and
had a long chase, until the hounds lost him in an immense plantation of
sugar-cane, from which there were too few dogs to dislodge him.
_15th._—This is delightful weather; we ride from six to eight, A.M.,
and take a drive at four in the evening, returning to dinner at six, at
which time a coal fire is agreeable. I am in stronger health than I ever
before enjoyed in India, which I attribute to the cold weather and great
exercise.
CHAPTER XXI.
LIFE IN THE ZENĀNA.
Devotees at the Great Fair—Wild Ducks—Quail shooting—Price
of English Hounds—Col. Gardner—Life in the Zenāna—The
Grass-cutter—Dūb Grass—The Gram-grinder—The Charkhī—Jack
fruit—Duty of a Sā’īs—Arrangement of a Turban—The young Princes
of Lucnow—Archery—Indian Bows and Arrows—Whistling Arrows—The
Bows, Arrows, and War Hatchet of the Coles—The Pellet
Bow—Witchcraft practised with a charmed Bow.
1832. _Feb. 2nd._—I went to the Burā Mela, the great annual fair on the
sands of the Ganges, and purchased bows and arrows, some curious Indian
ornaments, and a few fine pearls. On the sands were a number of devotees,
of whom the most holy person had made a vow, that for fourteen years he
would spend every night up to his neck in the Ganges; nine years he has
kept his vow: at sunset he enters the river, is taken out at sunrise,
rubbed into warmth, and placed by a fire; he was sitting, when I saw
him, by a great log of burning wood; is apparently about thirty years of
age, very fat and jovial, and does not appear to suffer in the slightest
degree from his penance. Another religious mendicant lies all day on
his back on the ground, his face encrusted with the mud of the Ganges.
The Hindoos throw flowers over them, and feed them, paying the holy men
divine honours.
The fair this year is thinly attended, the people not amounting to
a lākh, in consequence of the very heavy rain which fell throughout
December last, and prevented many of those from attending who had to come
from a very great distance.
_25th._—I went with my husband into tents near Alumchund, for the sake
of shooting; and used to accompany him on an elephant, or on my little
black horse, to mark the game. Quail were in abundance, and particularly
fine; common grey partridge, plentiful; a few black partridges, most
beautiful birds; and some hares. Instead of dogs, we took twenty men with
us, armed with long bamboos, to beat up the game; as for dogs in such
high plantations, they are useless and invisible.
_March 14th._—During the cold weather we collect wild ducks, and keep
them for the hot winds. We have just finished a new brick house for the
birds, consisting of a sleeping apartment, with a tank in front, in which
they have a fine supply of running water; the whole surrounded by lattice
work, covered with an immense climber, the gāo pāt, or elephant creeper,
of which the large velvet-like leaves shade the birds from prying
eyes[90]. Unfortunately, by some mischance or other, a jackal got into
the place at night, and killed fifty out of one hundred: very unlucky, as
the season for collecting them is nearly over, and we require wild ducks
and teal during the hot winds, when beef and mutton are disagreeable,
even to see on table; fowls, turkeys, rabbits, wild fowl, game, and fish,
are the only things to tempt one’s appetite in the grilling season, when
curries and anchovies are in requisition.
Speaking of wild ducks; we used to send out men into the jungle to
catch them, which was performed in a singular manner. The man, when he
got near water on which the wild fowl were floating, would wade into
the stream up to his neck with a kedgeree pot upon his head; beneath
this mask of pottery the birds would allow him to approach them without
taking alarm, they being used to the sight of these thiliyas (earthen
pots), which are constantly to be seen floating down the stream, thrown
away by the natives. When close to a bird, the man puts up his hand,
catches its legs, pulls it instantly under water, and fastens it to his
girdle. Having caught a few, he quits the river, and secures them in a
basket. The wild ducks are in beautiful condition, and very fine when
first brought in. They pine and waste away in confinement for the first
fortnight; then resigning themselves with all due philosophy to their
fate, they devour barley with great glee, and swim about in the tank,
eating principally at night. They must be surrounded by mats to keep them
quiet and composed: in a short time they again become fat, and are most
excellent. As soon as the rains commence, the wild ducks lose all their
flavour; it is then better to open the door and let the survivors escape.
They are good for nothing if kept for the next season. The teal are as
good, if not superior to the wild ducks.
Quail shooting is now to be enjoyed; my husband and his companion bring
home forty brace and upwards daily. The quail take shelter in the khets
(fields, plantations) of jwār, millet, (andropogon sorghum,) and bājrā
(panicum spicatum), from which it is difficult to dislodge them, and in
which dogs are useless. The birds are driven out by some twenty-five or
forty beaters, natives, armed with long latīs (male bamboos), with which
they beat the high stems of the plants, and drive them out. Quail are
sold twenty-five per rupee; if kept in cages, in darkness, and fed with
kungnee-seed (panicum Italicum), they are excellent in the hot winds:
when first caught, they are in high condition.
We hunt jackals in the grounds at Papamhow; and sometimes have a canter
after a wolf in the ravines. The gentlemen have a pack of hounds:
ten English imported dogs were added to the pack last year. It is
disheartening to see those fine dogs die daily. The price now asked in
Calcutta for English hounds is considered too high, even by us Indians,
being fifty guineas a couple! Of the ten bought last year, two only are
alive. Perhaps accidents have occurred; from ignorance at the time, that
castor-oil, when not cold-drawn, is certain death to dogs. The natives
have a great objection to using castor-oil medicinally when the seeds
have been heated before putting them into the mill.
_March 19th._—The arrival of Colonel Gardner pleased us greatly: his
boats were anchored in the Jumna, under our bank. He came down from
Lucnow to visit the quarries, in order to build a bridge for the King
of Oude; and after having spent nine days with us, he departed for
Benares. He is a great favourite at present, both with the king and the
minister at Lucnow; and if he is allowed to retain the jagīr he now
holds, upon the same terms for a few years, he will be a rich man. He
deserves it all; we found him the same kind, mild, gentlemanly, polished,
entertaining companion I have before described him. He was looking ill;
but now that his fatigues are over, and he is once more at rest, he
will soon recover. I requested him to inform me how native ladies amuse
themselves within a zenāna, and he gave me the following account:—
“They have ponies to ride upon within the four walls of the zenāna
grounds. Archery is a favourite amusement; my son, James Gardner, who is
a very fine marksman, was taught by a woman.
“A silver swing is the great object of ambition; and it is _the fashion_
to swing in the rains, when it is thought charming to come in dripping
wet. The swings are hung between two high posts in the garden.
“Fashion is as much regarded by the Musulmāne ladies as by the English;
they will not do this or that, because it is not the fashion.
“It is general amongst the higher and the middle classes of females in
Hindostān to be able to read the Kuran in Arabic (it is not allowed to be
translated), and the Commentary in Persian.
“The ladies are very fond of eating fresh whole roasted coffee. When a
number of women are sitting on the ground, all eating the dry roasted
coffee, the noise puts me in mind of a flock of sheep at the gram trough.
“The most correct hour for dinner is eleven or twelve at night: they
smoke their hooqŭs all through the night, and sleep during the day.
“Nothing can exceed the quarrels that go on in the zenāna, or the
complaints the begams make against each other. A common complaint is
‘Such an one has been practising witchcraft against me.’ If the husband
make a present to one wife, even if it be only a basket of mangoes, he
must make the same exactly to all the other wives to keep the peace.
A wife, when in a rage with her husband, if on account of jealousy,
often says, ‘I wish I were married to a grass-cutter,’ _i.e._ because a
grass-cutter is so poor he can only afford to have one wife.
[Illustration: THE GRASS-CUTTER AND GRAM-GRINDER.
فاني پارکس]
“My having been married some thirty or forty years, and never having
taken another wife, surprises the Musulmāns very much, and the ladies all
look upon me as a pattern: they do not admire a system of having three or
four rivals, however well pleased the gentlemen may be with the custom.”
Colonel Gardner admired the game of “La Grace.” I requested him to take
a set of sticks and hoops for the ladies of his zenāna: he told me
afterwards they never took any pleasure in the game, because it was not
the dastūr, the custom.
The account of the style in which affairs are conducted amused us
exceedingly.
“I wish I were married to a grass-cutter!” To enable you to comprehend
the sort of person to whom a begam, an eastern princess, wishes herself
united, in order to avoid the pangs of jealousy, I introduce a portrait
of Chungua, the grass-cutter of my horse Mootee, the Pearl of the Desert.
A cloth wrapped round the head in the form of a turban, and another cloth
bound round the loins, is the usual dress of the lower orders, if dress
it may be called. But it gives no idea of impropriety; the natural hue of
the skin being of itself a sort of mahogany coloured covering.
Every horse has a sā’īs to groom him, and a grass-cutter to bring in his
daily allowance of dūb-grass: this grass is a most luxuriant creeper;
it is jointed, and shoots out to a surprising length, covering a great
space of ground in the rains: the men grub it up close to the roots;
nevertheless the portion that remains in the earth soon springs up, you
cannot eradicate it: in the hot winds, the men grub up the _roots_, wash
them, and give them to the horses: sometimes the people have to go four
or five miles to bring it in, and are therefore exposed very much during
the hot weather. Their pay is three rupees or three and a half per month,
on which they feed and clothe themselves.
Doorba, doova, or dūb grass, (Linear bent grass, agrostis linearis, or
panicum dactylon,) is thus described:—The flowers of dūb grass in their
perfect state appear, through a lens, like minute rubies and emeralds in
constant motion, from the least breath of air; it is the sweetest and
most nutritious pasture for cattle, and its usefulness, added to its
beauty, induced the Hindoos, in their earliest ages, to believe that it
was the mansion of a benevolent nymph. Even the Veda celebrates it, as in
the following text.
“May Durva, which rose from the water of life, which has a hundred
roots, and a hundred stems, efface a hundred of my sins, and prolong my
existence on earth for an hundred years.”
“Landed property is like the root of the dūb grass[91],” _i.e._ it is not
easily destroyed.
Grass is to be procured in the bazār, but it is generally very bad,
and the supply uncertain. In Calcutta, grass-cutters are not kept, as
excellent hay is always to be purchased, which is much better for the
horses.
“The pendant part of the turban should be in proportion to the
learning[92].”
This will not exactly apply to grass-cutters and sā’īses, who generally
wear a long end pendant from the turban. If the carriage comes to the
door ere the sā’īs has arranged his clean turban, the fellow will come
bounding along, absolutely _flinging_ his turban around his head as he
runs; and thus will often put it on with a negligent grace, that is quite
inimitable, the long end usually hanging far below the shoulder. Chungua,
the original of the sketch, was raised from being a grass-cutter on three
rupees a month, to the dignity of a sā’īs on five, for his good conduct.
The woman sitting on the ground is the wife of one of our grass-cutters;
she grinds the gram for the horses at two rupees a month[93]. The charkhī
is formed of two flat circular stones, the lower of which is generally
fixed in the earth, and from its centre a peg passes through a hole in
the upper stone, and forms the pivot on which the upper stone works. In
her left hand she holds a peg, which is fixed on the upper stone, by
which she forces it round; the inner surfaces are rough; the gram is put
in through a hole in the upper stone, and the flour works out at the
edges between the two stones. The ornaments on her ankles are of pewter,
and very heavy; they weigh six pounds; her bracelets and armlets of heavy
solid brass. The petticoat and the part that goes over the head are only
_one_ piece of coarse cloth, bound like a petticoat around the limbs, and
the end thereof brought over the head; it is called a sāree. The damsel
is a Hindoo, and her garment is sometimes of a very dirty brown colour,
and sometimes blue.
When there is much work to be done, two women will sit on the ground and
grind the same mill, which is placed between their legs; this is the sort
of mill spoken of in Scripture,—“Two women were grinding at the mill, the
one shall be taken, and the other left.” Every native has a charkhī, and
grinds his own corn. English corn mills were erected in Calcutta; they
failed, I understand; as the natives objected to the grain brought by all
castes of people being ground in the same mill.
The woman is seated beneath the kuthul, the jack or jake tree,
(atrocarpus integrifolia); the fruit measures eighteen inches in length,
by twenty-three and a half in circumference, and is covered with sharp
small cones. The situation of the fruit varies with the age of the tree,
being first borne on the branches, then on the trunk, and finally on the
roots. The roasted seeds exactly resemble chesnuts: it is a species of
bread-fruit. In the sketch, the fruit is placed both on the trunk and on
the roots; I have never seen it on both at the same time, and have only
thus placed it in the drawing to show the manner in which it grows upon
the roots.
“The jack-fruit is upon the tree, and oil on your lips[94],” is a proverb
used to express premature precautions.
This fruit has a very glutinous juice, on which account, those who pluck
it previously rub their hands with oil; and if its adhesive juice remain
on the lips after eating, it is removed by the same means.
I had made over a sā’īs of mine to a gentleman just arrived in the
country ⸺; he wished to send his horse some sixteen miles, and desired
the man to ride it, thinking the distance too great for him to lead
the animal. The sā’īs came to me to complain; he wished to quit the
gentleman’s service, saying, “You hired me, Mem sāhiba, to take care of
the gentleman’s horse, and to lead him; he has no right to _force_ me to
_ride_ him.” I told him the gentleman had just arrived in the country,
and gave the order from a kind motive. “Ah well!” said the sā’īs, “if
that be the case, I consent to stay in his service,—but not to ride the
horse;” adding, with a contemptuous shrug and look of condescending pity,
“if he has only just come from England, what _should_ he know?”
How beautifully the natives put on a turban! The jamadar’s was most
gracefully arranged this morning; I made him explain the mystery, and put
it on before me. Those who wish to understand the true oriental mode of
arranging a turban, may refer to No. 22 in the Appendix.
Col. Gardner tells me that the two boys, Khema Jāh and Feredooa Buckht,
whom I saw at Lucnow, and whom the King declared to be his heirs, are
now out of favour, and are not allowed to enter the palace; I am glad
that low caste boy has no chance of being raised to the throne. The King
has taken another wife; his taste is certainly curious, she is an ugly
low caste woman. The old Nawāb Hakīm Mehndi has the whole power in his
hands; the King amuses himself sitting up all night and sleeping all
day; leaving the cares of state to the Hakīm. The revenue, under his
superintendence, has increased very considerably; the Hakīm’s passion is
saving money, and he appears to take as much pleasure in saving it for
the King as for himself.
Col. Gardner gave us some instructions in archery, for which we have
a great _penchant_; nor could I resist going continually into the
verandah, to take a shot at the targets, in spite of the heat—84°, or
the annoyance of an ague and fever from which I was suffering. Archery,
as practised in India, is very different from that in England; the arm
is raised over the head, and the bow drawn in that manner: native bowmen
throw up the elbow, and depress the right hand in a most extraordinary
style, instead of drawing to the ear, as practised by the English. A very
fine bow was given me, which was one of the presents made by Runjeet
Singh to Lord Wm. Bentinck; it is formed of strips of buffalo horn, and
adorned with bareilly work; when strung, it resembles the outline of a
well-formed upper lip, Cupid’s bow.
During the rains, the natives unstring their bows, and, bending them
backwards until they curl round almost into a circle, fix them between
two slips of bamboo, until the rains are over, when they re-string them:
the string of this bow is of thick silk. To bring back the bow to its
proper form is a difficult affair; they warm it over a charcoal fire, and
bend it back by fixing two iron chains upon it; after this it is usually
strung by taking one end of the bow in the left hand, passing it behind
the left leg, and over the shin bone of the right, then bending it by
forcing the upper end round towards the opposite side; when the string,
which has been previously secured on the lower horn, is slipped into its
place by the right hand.
The quiver, which is of crimson velvet, embroidered with gold, is very
handsome. The arrows are steel-headed, and bound with brass rings, to
render the pile more secure; the shafts are made of beautifully smooth,
straight, hard reeds; the heads are either plain, or of a fish-hook
shape; and the whole are highly ornamented with bareilly work.
The natives do not draw the bow with two or three fingers, as practised
in Europe; they make use of a thumb-ring, of which I have seen two kinds.
Whistling arrows are reeds, on which, in lieu of a pile of steel, a
hollow bit of wood is affixed, in form not unlike a small egg; when shot
perpendicularly into the air they produce a shrill whistling sound.
Sometimes a slip of paper is rolled up and put into the hole in the head,
when the arrow is shot into a zenāna garden, over the high wall, or into
a fortress.
N.B. First consider, ere you shoot your arrow, if your beloved can read
the enclosed epistle.
Bows, and very powerful ones, in shape like those of England, are also
made use of in India; they are formed of one piece of bamboo, covered
with ornaments in bareilly work, and strung with catgut; I have two of
these, the largest measures four feet, the smaller three feet and a half.
The bow used by the Coles is of the same shape, made of one piece of
black bamboo, the string a strip of cane. The Cole places one end of the
bow on the ground, kneels on his right knee, and pressing his left foot
against the bow, fires in that position.
The Cole quiver is of leather, the workmanship very coarse. The arrows,
most villainous weapons, are double-barbed; one of them entering the
flesh must be cut out, and it would be a severe operation to extract
the double-barbed head, which is of rough iron; they are often poisoned
in war. The shaft is a rough reed of the commonest sort, with three
bits of feather _tied_ upon the end of it; the length of the arrow
from twenty-seven to thirty-five inches; nothing can be ruder than the
workmanship.
The war hatchet carried by the Coles is a fearful-looking weapon; it is
used to cut down horses in action: sometimes they fix it at the end of
a long bamboo, to enable them to hamstring a horse at a distance. These
weapons were taken during the Cole war, and presented to me.
For further information respecting the aboriginal inhabitants of
India,—the Coles, the Bheels, the Gonds, the Khonds, &c., see Appendix,
No. 23.
A more particular description of the poisoned arrows, and of the bows
used by the Hill-men, is inserted in another chapter.
The Pellet bow, in form like the common English bow, is strung with two
catgut strings, which are confined above by a bit of wood, and below, in
the centre, by a small cotton sling, which is woven in between the two
strings. The pellet is placed in the sling, between the first finger and
thumb of the right hand, which draws the bow, and lets fly the pellet.
At the instant the pellet is loosed, the wrist of the left hand should
be turned to prevent the striking of the ball on the bow; the sling
should be a little higher than the centre of the bow, or the pellet will
be liable to strike the left thumb,—a painful accident.
The pellets should be made about the size of a large marble, of stiff
clay, with which a little cotton-wool should be mixed, and dried in the
sun.
The shikar-ke-tilee, ammunition-pouch, is of ornamented leather.
Sorcery is practised with a charmed bow. At a sŭtēē, bamboo levers are
often brought down over the whole pile, to hold down the woman, and the
corpse of her husband; and several persons are employed to keep down the
levers, whilst others throw water upon them that the wood may not be
scorched.
A person sometimes takes one of these bamboo levers after the bodies are
burnt; and, making a bow and arrow with it, repeats incantations over it.
He then makes an image of some enemy with clay, and lets fly the arrow
at it. The person whose image is thus pierced is said to be immediately
seized with a pain in his breast.
_April 1st._—What would the people at home think of being up at five
A.M., and in church by six o’clock! This is the usual hour for divine
service at this time of the year. To us Indians, accustomed to early
rising, it is no fatigue.
_7th._—This morning I cantered down to see our fields of oats by the side
of the Ganges, which they have just begun to cut; such a fine crop! When
they are stacked, we shall have three or four large ricks.
CHAPTER XXII.
ADVENTURES IN THE EAST.
Gaiety of Allahabad—Lucnow Chutnee—Tails of the Yāk—Horn
of the Unicorn—The Looking-glass Shawl—The first flight of
Locusts—An Adventure—The Rats’ Granary—Balls—Profiles—The leaf
Grasshopper—Appointed to Allahabad—Ramohun Roy—The Bottle of
Horrors—Narrative of a Thug—The Quicksand—Meteors and falling
Stars—Hanging oneself for spite—The Sipahī Guard—The Ghurī—The
Sitar—The Ektara—The Gynee Club—Soonghees—Colonel Gardner.
1832, _May_.—Allahabad is now one of the gayest, and is, as it always
has been, one of the prettiest stations in India. We have dinner-parties
more than enough; balls occasionally; a book society; some five or six
billiard-tables; a pack of dogs, some amongst them hounds, and (how could
I have forgotten!) fourteen spinsters!
_2nd._—Colonel Gardner has sent us twelve jars of the most delicious
Lucnow chutnee, the very beau idéal of mixtures of sharp, bitter, sour,
sweet, hot, and cold!
This station, which in former days was thought one of the
least-to-be-coveted positions, has now become, what from the first we
always pronounced it to be, one of the most desirable. We have a kind
neighbourly society, as much, or even more of gaiety than we sober folks
require, and, mirabile, no squabbling. I hope his lordship will not
disturb our coterie by moving the Boards of Revenue and of Criminal and
Civil Justice higher up the country, which some think not improbable.
A friend has made me a present of a pair of the most magnificent
cow-tails, of the yāk or cow of Thibet. They are great curiosities, and
shall go with my collection to England. These tails I have had made into
chaunrīs by having them fastened into leaves of embossed silver, which
have been affixed to the horns of deer of the Himalaya. The hair on the
chaunrī (fly-flapper) is on the original bone as it was on the yāk; and
the hair, which is perfectly white, is considered the most valuable, the
dark coloured hair being reckoned inferior. They were brought by some
Hill-men from Bhootan. The horns came from Landour, brought from the
interior of the Himalaya, by the Pahārees (Hill-men). Three more of the
same sort were also sent me from Almorah, but they are very scarce.
The horn is said to be that of a deer of the Himalaya, which, when first
brought down, was supposed to be unicorn. These two horns came from
Landour, brought down by Hill-men. Three more were sent me from Almorah.
The men described the animal as having but _one_ horn in the centre of
its forehead; when questioned particularly on this point, they were firm;
and, being ignorant that we believe the unicorn fabulous, could have no
motive for the assertion. During my residence in the East, I saw only
five of these horns, which are all in my possession, and not one of them
will pair with another. The men were requested to bring the head of the
animal with the horn upon it; they have not done so, and there is no
further proof to convince unbelievers of the existence of the unicorn of
the Himalaya. Chaunrīs of peacock’s feathers are emblems of royalty, and
are used by servants in attendance on the Governor-general, who stand
behind his chair and wave them over his head. The sā’īses carry them of
horse-hair, to wisk the flies off the horses; and a very common sort are
made of grass. Very beautiful white chaunrīs are also made of strips from
the quill of the peacock’s feather. The chaunrīs are represented in the
frontispiece, over the head of Gănéshŭ. The Brahmans use them in pooja,
waving them over the idol.
A lady has sent me a great curiosity—a common dark brown-red shawl, worn
by low caste women at Hissar. It is worked all over in large flowers,
in orange silk; the centre of the flower contains a circular bit of
looking-glass about an inch and a half in diameter, round which the
flower is worked in coarse silk. The appearance of the dress as the
light falls on the looking-glass is most strange and odd. I never saw a
shawl of the sort before. It is too coarse to be worn by any but poor
people: when working in the fields, in what an extraordinary manner the
light must be caught on all those reflecting circles of glass!
_June 19th._—We drove into the Fort to call on a fair friend at 5 P.M. No
sooner had I entered the house, than we saw clouds of locusts in the air:
immediately afterwards a heavy storm of rain fell, and the locusts were
beaten down by it in great numbers to the ground. The native servants
immediately ran out and caught them by handfuls, delighted to get them
to make a curry; for which purpose they may, perhaps, be as delicate as
prawns, which are most excellent. I took some to preserve with arsenical
soap: they look like very large grasshoppers. I never saw a flight of
locusts before; on our return home the air was full of them.
The food of St. John in the wilderness was locusts and wild honey: very
luxurious fare, according to the natives, who say, either in a curry or
fried in clarified butter, they are excellent. I believe they divest them
of their wings, and dress them after the fashion of woodcocks.
Some assert that St. John did not live upon locusts, but upon the bean of
a tree called by the Arabs Kharroùb, the locust-tree of Scripture[95]—a
point too difficult to be decided by a poor hājī[96] in search of the
picturesque.
_20th._—At 5 A.M. I rode out with a friend, and met the hounds under
the Mahratta Bund; no other persons were present, and we had not gone
twenty yards before two jackals crossed the road just before the dogs:
away they went, in the prettiest style imaginable. Mr. B⸺ galloped off
across a ploughed field: the horse had scarcely gone ten yards when his
legs sunk into a deep soft hole; the creature could not recover himself;
over he went, falling on his back, with his rider under him; and there
the horse lay kicking with all four legs in the air for a short time, ere
the gentleman had the power to extricate himself from under the animal.
I was not five yards behind, and, jumping off my horse, went to his
assistance. The blood was pouring from his mouth and nose, and his right
shoulder was dislocated. Two natives came up. Leaving the fainting man in
their care, I galloped off for a surgeon. During my absence, a medical
man fortunately arrived at the spot: he found the gentleman senseless.
Having set his shoulder and bled him, he put him into a palanquin, and
sent him home. My search for a surgeon was unsuccessful for a length of
time: at last I rode into the court of the Hospital at Kyd Gunge, in
search of Dr. S⸺, when the first object I beheld was the corpse of a man
being carried out, marked with blood on the head; it made me shudder: the
medical man was just on the point of opening the head of a European, who
had died suddenly. This was rather a nervous adventure and a frightful
sight. My friend was so much stunned by the blow and the dislocation
of his arm, he could make but feeble efforts to extricate himself from
his horse. I thought at first he was killed by the way in which the two
streams of blood poured from the corners of his mouth when I raised his
head. It was unfortunate being alone at such a moment.
The rats during the harvest-time collect grain in holes; and the poor
people dig wherever they think they may chance to find a rat’s store,
for the sake of the grain: sometimes on one spot they find 20lb. weight
secreted by these provident animals, generally in the midst of the
fields. The natives steal the grain, and leave the holes open, which
are very dangerous for horses. The place into which Mr. B⸺’s horse fell
was an opening of the sort, filled by the rain of the day before with
light mould, therefore he could not see he was upon treacherous ground.
I escaped from being five yards in the rear of his horse; had he passed
over, I should, in all probability, have gone in; the ground appeared
perfectly good, instead of being like a quicksand.
The other night, for the first time up the country, I saw a glow-worm; it
was very thin, about half an inch in length, and more like a maggot in a
cheese than any thing else.
_Aug. 14th._—Last week we were at a ball given by the officers of the
6th Native Infantry to the station; in spite of the heat, the people
appeared to enjoy dancing very much, and kept it up until very late. A
ball-room in India, with all the windows open, and the pankhās in full
play, is not half so oppressive as a ball-room in London: the heat of
pure air is much better than the heat of a number of persons, all crowded
together and breathing the same atmosphere over and over again. Balls up
the country take place principally during the hot winds and rains; they
make a variety at a quiet station. During the cold months the people are
dispersed on duty in divers parts of the district.
I amuse myself turning profiles in rous wood on my lathe; the likenesses
of Buonaparte and the Duke of Wellington are good, because it is less
difficult to turn a strong profile. I look at the drawing whilst turning
the wood; when finished it is cut open, and the profile, if properly
done, is exact.
Snakes are in abundance: I caught a small venomous whip-snake in my
dressing-room to-day, and put it into the bottle of horrors. A lady
stepped upon the head of one a short time ago; the reptile curled round
her leg; when she raised her foot in a fright, it glided off, and was
found half killed in the next room.
A great fire has taken place in the Fort in Calcutta; an immense quantity
of stores have been destroyed in the magazine, report says to the amount
of ten lakh. Some suppose the fire may have been occasioned by the
cutting system having rendered the natives revengeful.
_Sept. 2nd._—A number of beautiful butterflies have been caught for
me in the garden; they are attracted by the lucerne grass, as well as
the flowers. Some are very rich in colour, and very delicate. Amongst
the insects collected, the most curious are the locusts, and the
leaf-grasshopper—a marvellous insect! an immense grasshopper, with two
wings exactly like narrow leaves, of a beautiful spring green, and two
wings beneath them of the most delicate gauze. One might imagine two
narrow leaves had been fastened on as wings to a grasshopper!
On the 11th of this month, the sāhib was appointed collector at
Allahabad: the comfort of holding a fixed situation is great, and we
rejoice exceedingly.
Our great Bengal Lion Rajah Ramohun Roy appears to have created no
small sensation on the other side of the water. He is one of the few
well-educated natives we possess, and is, decidedly, a very remarkable
person. He holds his title of Rajah from the king of Delhi, the great
Mogul, whose ambassador he is to the British Court in a suit versus John
Company.
_Extract from a homeward-bound letter._
“The Mem sāhiba’s present _fureur_, for she always has
one darling passion for the time, is making a collection
of butterflies and _coleopteræ_, she is deeply read in
_taxidermy_, and we have, besides, many other prepared
subjects, such as tigers, and hyenas’ skulls, alligator’s
skeleton whole; a delightful little pet in spirits of wine, a
young crocodile, skin and all. Then there is ‘The Bottle of
Horrors!’ containing cobra de capello, scorpions, lizards,
millepieds, centpieds, grillus monstrosus, and I know not what.
Mephistopheles himself would be affrighted; and I, the Faust
of this Margaret, am sitting in a quiet unconcern, smoking my
cigar, as happy as if I was one of the party in the bottle, the
daily object of admiration!”
NARRATIVE OF OOMEID THUG.—(August 10th, 1832.)
The following is a narrative of the Thugs, translated from the ‘Indian
Gazette,’ and the ‘Agra Ukbar,’ dated 10th October, 1832.
“In the month of Koar, I do not recollect the year, I, with five others,
went to Lochun Singh, jamadar in Muoza Seeapore, Purguna Bethoor. This
village was about twelve cos from Kusooapore, the place where we lived.
Having assembled a gang of thirty-one men, including the jamadar,
we set off towards Lucnow. The braying of an ass and the sound of a
peacock necessarily arresting our ears, we took them for good omens,
and breakfasted under a tree. On the same day we fell in with three
travellers of the Rajpoot caste, proceeding from Lucnow to Etawa. We put
up for the night together, agreeing to travel together the next morning.
While it was dark, we took our journey in company with the travellers;
and as we passed a well, finding the opportunity friendly to our purpose,
we fell upon and killed the travellers; and throwing their bodies into
the well, we went forward. Our booty amounted to 200 rupees in cash, and
some other property, which we divided, and took the road to Cawnpore.
On the road we met two travellers proceeding from Jeypore to Lucnow;
we travelled back with them to the village whence we had started; and
having remained there for the night, we set off the next morning while
it was dark with the travellers. Meeting with a well on the road, we
asked the travellers to rest awhile and smoke; and while smoking they
were struck with nooses, and strangled. We threw the bodies into the
wells. The spoil, amounting to rupees in cash 250, and other property, we
divided. After this occurrence Lochun, jamadar, hearing that his wife was
delivered of a son, proposed our going to our homes for a time, and we
accordingly dispersed.”
SECOND ENTERPRISE OF OOMEID THUG.
“About a year ago, in the month of Phagoon, I left my home in
Kussooapoor, in company with twenty-two other Thugs, and hearing the
sound of an owl, which we regarded as a good omen, we sat down to
breakfast, and then took the road to Etawa. Alighting at an inn (sarae)
in the night, we found a traveller there, proceeding from Kalpee to
Jypoor. My son Gunesh (who was afterwards sentenced to be hung) gained
him over to our party, and we set off together the next morning; and
travelling towards Agra, we halted at night in the sarae of Juswuntnugar:
leaving which place, we stopped near a tank, and in the act of helping
some tobacco to the traveller, he was strangled with a noose. His body
we threw into the tank. The booty consisted of one brass _lota_ and one
_thalee_, some clothes, and fifteen rupees in cash: these we divided. We
arrived next at Huteepoor, and put up in the inn there. Here we fell in
with five travellers, proceeding from Jeypoor to Lucnow; of them, two
were of the _Koormee_ caste, two _Aheers_, and one _Kuhar_. We persuaded
them that we were likewise travellers, and were on our way to Lucnow.
They readily joined us; and thus, next morning, we started together; and
as we were passing by a well, we asked the travellers to rest awhile,
and smoke tobacco; and while smoking, we strangled them with nooses, and
threw their bodies into the well. The booty, consisting of 100 rupees in
cash, and some clothes and utensils, we divided.
“We then went to Sersa Gung, seven _cos_ from Huteepoor, in the way to
Mynpooree, and put up in an inn. Here we met two travellers, journeying
from Juodhpoor to Byswara. As our custom was, we soon persuaded them to
join our party; we started in the morning, and as we reached a well,
we stopped there on the pretence of smoking, and strangled the two
travellers with nooses. Their property, amounting to sixty rupees in
cash, and their clothes, &c., we divided. Travelling five cos more, we
came to the inn of Mukhan: here two _Buggals_ arrested our attention;
they were travellers, journeying from Jeypoor to Lucnow. From their
eluding all inquiries, we naturally concluded that they had money in
specie with them; we were not mistaken: they started by sunrise, and we
followed them. When they reached near a tank, we found the opportunity
friendly to our purpose, and with nooses strangled them. In haste, we
threw the bodies into the tank, it being broad daylight, and departed.
On examining the booty, we found the bags we had taken contained one
thousand five hundred rupees; with this money we came to Agra. We then
left Agra, and halting at Bhurtpoor, took the road to Jeypoor; on our
way, we were joined by a party of twelve Thugs, and passing Jeypoor, we
reached the village of Dosa. Here we saw three men, who were travelling
from Juodhpoor to Lucnow; we found no difficulty in prevailing on them to
join us, and in the night we killed and buried them. The booty amounted
to sixty rupees in cash, and some utensils and clothes. We met four more
travellers in a village hard by; they were proceeding to Benares; we
invited them to warm themselves by the fire we had lighted, and while
warming themselves we strangled them with nooses, and their bodies we
buried. Our spoil amounted to thirty rupees in cash, and some utensils
and clothes. Some miles from this place, in a village, the name of which
I do not recollect, we halted: here we found three travellers going from
Nusseerabad to Cawnpore; at night we fell upon and killed them; their
bodies we buried in the same place. We found on them sixty rupees in
cash, and some utensils and clothes. One cos from this place, under a
_burgut_ tree, we met with three _Buggals_, who joined us; and as we set
off by dawn, we killed the _Buggals_ by a _jhaoo_ (tamarisk) field; we
despoiled them of fifty rupees in cash, and some clothes, &c.; the bodies
were afterwards buried.
“On our return, near to Jeypoor, by a tank, we obtained another prey
in a person proceeding to Cawnpore; we gained upon him by soft, tender
expressions, and then at night strangled him with a noose; his property
amounted to ten rupees in cash, and two bullocks.”
I could not omit inserting the above narrative, on account of the quiet
coolness with which the Thug Oomeid relates the murders committed by
himself and his gang.
_Oct. 25th._—The sale of the property of a friend took place to-day. Many
valuable works in octavo sold for twopence a volume! The furniture went
at about one fourth of its value. We took the opportunity of getting rid
of extra sofas and chairs; much furniture is a great inconvenience in
this climate; it harbours musquitoes.
Through the stupidity of our servants, some animal got into the
quail-house last night, and killed seventy-nine fat quail; very
provoking,—but as this is the season for them it is not of much
consequence, we can replace them; had it been during the hot winds, when
no quail are to be procured, it would have been a great loss in the
eating department.
All my finery coming from England has been totally lost, about twenty
days’ journey from this place, by the swamping of the boat; all my
presents gone “at one fell swoop,” leaving me _sans pompons, sans
souliers, sans everything_; my pen is bad, my knife blunt, and my new
penknife is feeding the fish at the bottom of the Ganges, off Monghir.
_Nov. 8th._—Last night we dined at Mr. F⸺’s; a Capt. W⸺, who is rather
a curiosity, was of the party; he brought us a letter of introduction
from Col. Gardner. He is the brother of Sir H. W⸺, the late ambassador in
Persia; he wears a native dress, with a long beard that hangs half way
down his breast; and his imitation of native style is good. He commenced
his travels in 1829, passing through Norway, Sweden, Denmark, Persia, and
so on to Allahabad, and will return _viâ_ Constantinople; he is a captain
in the navy.
This morning, it being a holiday with the Hindoos, and a great
bathing-day at the junction of the rivers, we agreed to meet Capt. W⸺
on the spot before sunrise, to witness the tamāshā. He, having started
before us, rode down to the bathing-place, and getting into a quicksand
on the banks of the river, had a roll in the mud. Mr. B⸺ and I rode down
to meet him, and coming on a daldal (quicksand), my horse sank into it up
to his tail, struggling violently, and beating up and down like a boat
in a short sea; I rolled off, or rather Mr. B⸺ pulled me from the horse,
which, with great exertion and difficulty, at length scrambled out. Mr.
B⸺’s grey Cabul horse refused to pass the daldal; he snorted, beat the
ground with his fore-feet, and stood firm, evidently alarmed. Remounting
my horse Trelawny, we pursued our way to the Triveni, where we met Capt.
W⸺, and laughed at our misfortunes. This is the first time my horse and I
have parted company; I used to boast of never having quitted my saddle.
Capt. W⸺ went to the bathing-place, to see the junction of the three
rivers, the Gunga, the Jumna, and the Saraswati; the two first are above
ground, the third joins them underground,—at least, so say the pious
Hindoos. Capt. W⸺ keeps a journal; if he publish it, I fear he will
immortalize this quicksand adventure, and say, “being unable to discover
the river Saraswati above ground, we were searching for it in the regions
below.”
_Nov. 13th._—We were out riding about 5 A.M.; the sky was cloudy, with a
rainy appearance, and we saw a great number of meteors falling in every
direction; at first I did not know what they were; afterwards I counted
eight; two of them fell, leaving a stream of blue light for a second, and
then vanished. I never before observed these meteors.
The followers of the Prophet assert, that falling stars are believed by
the idolaters to be on account of the birth or death of some great man;
but are in reality weapons thrown at the devils. While the friends of
Muhammud were sitting with him one night, a very bright star shot; and
his Highness said, “What did you say in the days of ignorance when a
Star shot like this?” They said, “God and his messenger know best; we
used to say, A great man was born to-night, and a great man died.” Then
his Majesty said, “You mistook; because the shooting of these stars are
neither for the life nor death of any person; but when our Cherisher
orders a work, the bearers of the imperial throne sing hallelujahs; and
the inhabitants of the regions who are near the bearers repeat it, till
it reaches the lowest regions. After that, the angels which are near
the bearers of the imperial throne say, ‘What did the Cherisher order?’
Then they are informed; and so it is handed from one region to another,
till the information reaches the people of the lowest region. Then the
devils steal it, and carry it to their friends, that is, magicians; and
these stars are thrown at these devils; not for the birth or death of any
person. Then the things which the magicians tell, having heard from the
devils, are true; but these magicians tell lies, and exaggerate in what
they hear.” Kutadah said, “God has created stars for three uses; one of
them, as a cause of ornament of the regions; the second, to stone the
devil with; the third, to direct people going through forests, and on
the sea. Therefore, whoever shall explain them otherwise does wrong, and
loses his time, and speaks from his own invention, and embellishes[97].”
An officer in the sixteenth lancers, at Cawnpore, thus describes some
meteors he saw on the 12th of this month. “On going to field exercise
this morning, soon after daybreak, the air presented a very singular
phenomenon, being as it were filled with innumerable meteors, descending
like vivid streaks of fire. These continued for about half-an-hour, and
one passed so near me as to frighten my horse.”.
_Nov. 22nd._—Two days ago there was an immense flight of locusts; we
caught a great number. The natives turned out, and with hideous noises,
waving flags and sticks, drove them from settling on their plantations.
The jamadar has just brought in a curious pigeon; it has four legs; the
pair in front have four toes like all pigeons’ feet, the other pair are
placed behind, they are smaller, and each foot has only two toes; all the
four legs hang down, after the fashion in which pigeons wear their legs.
What strange people these natives are! A traveller who came here this
morning complained to my husband that his coachman and sā’īs had robbed
and beaten him. The coachman said, “The traveller was going a short cut
to the bazār by a road in your grounds you had ordered to be stopped; we
turned him back, therefore we had a quarrel.” The traveller, to spite
them, hung himself on a tree opposite the stables, and was cut down by
the guard. Natives are fond of hanging themselves for spite when they are
_sure of being cut down_! It is better to let them please themselves, if
you do they will seldom kill themselves in reality; a good caning in such
circumstances would be of great service.
A man has brought a heron’s plume for sale; the natives put them into
jewelled ornaments on their turbans, called jika, and also on the heads
of their horses. These feathers are extremely expensive in Paris; I was
asked two hundred francs for a small plume.
The pine-apple shaped figure on the Cashmere shawls is the representation
of the jewelled jika worn in front of the turban; the plume rises from it.
Speaking of the guard, who cut down the traveller who hung himself, I
must remark, we had a guard of twelve sipahīs and a hawāldār; a sentry in
front of the guard-room kept the time by striking the hours on a gong;
_non mi recordo_, how I became possessed of the following scientific
description of the Ghurī, which I insert on account of its excellence.
“The Brahmanical method of computing time, which is generally followed
all over India, is this:—
“60 Nimeshu, or twinklings of the human eye, are considered equal to one
Pal.
“60 Pals equal to one Ghurī.
“60 Ghurīs to one day and night.
“60 Days and nights one Ritu.
“6 Ritu (seasons of two calendar months each) one solar year.
“60 Solar years one cycle.
“And during that period they believe that a complete revolution of
terrestrial circumstances takes place. The only method of measuring the
ghurī is by the simple clepsydra, formed of a brass cup, perforated with
a single hole in the bottom, and placed in a vessel of water: the cup
floats on the water, filling and sinking by degrees; when full the cup
sinks, and the hour is completed. The cup is merely of brass or copper,
beaten out very thin, without any marks or gradations upon it. When the
cup sinks, the hour is struck upon a gong, which is generally hung upon
three bamboos. The ghurī, or copper cup, floats usually in a vessel of
coarse red pottery filled with water, called a nān.”
In the plate entitled “The Thug’s Dice,” figure 1 represents a sipahī,
with the stick in his hand, watching the brass cup, which is just on the
point of sinking; the moment it disappears, he will strike the gong; a
spare cup is on the ground, by the side of the nān, or large earthen
vessel that holds the water.
I have received a present that pleases me greatly, a sitar, a musical
instrument, in general use all over India; it was made at Lucnow from a
hollow gourd, and is very beautifully put together. It has four strings;
the first is of steel wire, the two next are of brass wire, and the
fourth and smallest of steel. It is played with the first finger of the
right hand alone, on which is placed a little steel wire frame, called a
misrāb, with which the strings are struck; the left hand stops the notes
on the frets, but you only stop the notes on the first string; the other
three strings produce a sort of pedal sound as the misrāb passes over
them, from the manner in which they are tuned. The instrument is most
elegantly formed.
The ektara, a one-stringed instrument, as the name implies, is used by
wandering minstrels. A man of this description, the veritable Paganini of
the East, appeared before me the other day; he was an Hindoo mendicant,
carrying an ektara, which was formed of a gourd; and on its one string
he played in a strange and peculiar style. From the upper end of the
ektara two peacock’s feathers were displayed. The man’s attire was a
rope around his waist, and a bit of cloth; a black blanket hung over his
shoulder; on his forehead, breast, and arms were the sectarial marks, and
the brahmanical thread was over his shoulder; three necklaces and one
bracelet completed the costume. His hair fell to his shoulders, and, like
all natives, he wore a moustache. My friends laugh at me when I play on
the sitar, and ask, “Why do you not put a peacock’s feather at the end of
it?”
_Dec. 1st._—We have become great farmers, having sown our crop of oats,
and are building outhouses to receive some thirty-four dwarf cows and
oxen (gynees), which are to be fed up for the table, and produced after
some eight months’ stuffing. The gynee club consists of eight members,
and it gives us better food than we could procure from the bazār: “Whose
dog am I that I should eat from the bazār?”
A little distance from the stacks the unmuzzled bullocks are treading
out the corn: “Thou shalt not muzzle the ox that treadeth out the corn.”
This patriarchal method breaks and renders the straw soft and friable;
the corn is winnowed by taking it up in a basket and pouring it out; the
grain falls to the ground, while the west wind blows the chaff into a
heap beyond. The corn is deposited in a large pit, which has been duly
prepared by having had the walls well dried and hardened from a fire
burning in it for many days. These pits are carefully concealed by the
natives, and their armies have people, called soonghees or smellers,
whose business it is to find out these underground and secret granaries.
Our friend Col. Gardner is still at Lucnow, which, in all probability,
will speedily be taken into the hands of the British government for _its
better protection_! The King has lately dismissed a man of great talent,
who was his prime minister, and put in a fool by way of a change. The
consequence is already felt in the accounts of the royal treasury. It
is said it is impossible to collect the revenue without force, and that
where that has been used, his Majesty’s forces have been beaten.
A friend writes from England, “I shall always regret having quitted India
without having seen Col. Gardner and the Taj.”
He is a very remarkable man; his age nearly seventy, I believe. I had
a long letter from him two days since, full of all the playfulness of
youth, and of all kindness. I never met so entertaining or so instructive
a companion; his life, if he would publish it, would be indeed a legacy,
and shame our modern biography.
_20th._—For the first time this year it has been cold enough to collect
ice; during my early ride this morning I saw the coolies gathering it
into the pits.
CHAPTER XXIII.
THE GREAT FAIR AT ALLAHABAD.
“TALKING TO A MAN WHO IS IN ECSTACY (OF A RELIGIOUS NATURE PRACTISED OR
FEIGNED BY FAKĪRS) IS LIKE BEATING CURDS WITH A PESTLE[98].”
Booths at the Fair—Diamonds, Pearls, Shawls, Sable,
Coral—The Triveni—Suicide—Religious Mendicants—The
sacred Ginī—Consecration of an Idol—Household
Gods—Rosaries—Pilgrims, Carriers of Holy Water—Snakes—Arrival
of Lady Wm. Bentinck—Visit to the Fair—Description of the
Frontispiece—Chamelee, the Brahmanical Bull.
1833, _Jan._—The burā melā at Prāg, or the great fair at Allahabad, is
held annually on the sands of the Ganges below the ramparts of the Fort,
extending from the Mahratta Bund to the extreme point of the sacred
junction of the rivers. The booths extend the whole distance, composed
of mud walls, covered with mats, or thatched. This fair lasts about two
months, and attracts merchants from all parts of India, Calcutta, Delhi,
Lucnow, Jeypore, &c. Very good diamonds, pearls, coral, shawls, cloth,
woollens, China, furs, &c., are to be purchased. Numerous booths display
brass and copper vessels, glittering in the sun with many brazen idols:
others are filled with Benares’ toys for children. Bows and arrows are
displayed, also native caps made of sable, the crowns of which are of the
richest gold and silver embroidery.
The pearl merchants offer long strings of large pearls for sale, amongst
which some few are fine, round, and of a good colour. The natives value
size, but are not very particular as to colour; they do not care to have
them perfectly round, and do not object to an uneven surface. They will
allow a purchaser to select the best at pleasure from long strings.
The deep red coral is valued by the natives much more than the pink. I
bought some very fine pink coral at the fair: the beads were immense; the
price of the largest, eleven rupees per tola; _i.e._ eleven rupees for
one rupee weight of coral. The smallest, six or four rupees per tola; it
was remarkably fine. Some years afterwards the Brija Bā’ī, a Mahratta
lady, a friend of mine, called on me; she observed the long string of
fine pink coral around my neck, and said, “I am astonished a mem sāhiba
should wear coral; we only decorate our horses with it; that is pink
coral, the colour is not good; look at my horse.” I went to the verandah;
her horse was adorned with a necklace of fine deep red coral. She was
quite right, and I made over mine to my grey steed.
Some of the prettiest things sold at the Melā are the tīkas, an ornament
for the forehead for native women. The tīka is of different sizes and
patterns; in gold or silver for the wealthy, tinsel for the poorer
classes; and of various shapes. The prettiest are of silver, a little
hollow cup like a dew-drop cut in halves: the ornament is stuck with
an adhesive mixture on the forehead, just in the centre between the
eyebrows. Some tīkas are larger, resembling the _ferronnière_ worn by
European ladies.
The Allahabad hukāks are famous for their imitation in glass of precious
stones. I purchased a number of native ornaments in imitation of the
jewellery worn by native ladies, which were remarkably well made, and
cost only a few rupees. I also bought strings of mock pearls brought from
China, that are scarcely to be distinguished from real pearls, either in
colour or weight.
The toys the rich natives give their children, consisting in imitations
of all sorts of animals, are remarkably pretty; they are made in silver,
and enamelled: others are made of ivory very beautifully carved; and for
the poorer classes they are of pewter, moulded into the most marvellous
shapes.
At this time of the year lākhs and lākhs of natives come to bathe at the
junction of the Ganges and Jumna; they unite at the extremity of a neck
of land, or rather sand, that runs out just below the Fort. On this holy
spot the Brahmans and religious mendicants assemble in thousands. Each
fakīr pitches a bamboo, from the end of which his flag is displayed, to
which those of the same persuasion resort. Here they make pooja, shave,
give money to the fakīr, and bathe at the junction. The clothes of the
bathers are put upon charpāīs to be taken care of, for so many pāisa.
Every native, however poor he may be, pays tribute of one rupee to
Government before he is allowed to bathe.
Two boats, by order of Government, are in attendance at this point
to prevent persons from drowning themselves or their children. The
mere act of bathing in the waters of the Gunga, on a particular day,
removes ten sins, however enormous, committed in ten previous births.
How much greater must be the efficacy at the junction of the Gunga and
Yamuna, which the Saraswati, the third sacred river, is supposed to join
underground! The benefit arising from bathing at the lucky moment of the
conjunction of the moon with a particular star is very great, or at the
time of eclipse of the sun or moon.
The holy waters are convenient for washing away a man’s sins, and as
efficacious as a pope’s bull for this purpose. Groups of natives stand in
the river whilst their Brahman reads to them, awaiting the happy moment
at which to dip into the sacred and triple waves. They fast until the
bathing is over. Suicide committed at the junction is meritorious in
persons of a certain caste, but a _sin_ for a Brahman!
The holy men prefer the loaves and fishes of this world to the immediate
moksh or beatitude, without further risk of transmigration, which is
awarded to those who die at the sacred junction.
Bathing will remove sins, gain admittance into heaven, and the devotee
will be reborn on earth in an honourable station.
A married woman without children often vows to Gunga to cast her
first-born into the river: this in former times was often done at Prāg,
it now rarely occurs. If the infant’s life is preserved, the mother
cannot take it again.
RELIGIOUS MENDICANTS.
The most remarkable people at this Melā are the religious mendicants;
they assemble by hundreds, and live within inclosures fenced off by
sticks, a little distance from the booths. These people are the monks
of the East; there are two orders of them; the Gosāins, or followers of
Shivŭ, and the Byragies, disciples of Vishnoo. Any Mahomedan may become
a fakīr, and a Hindoo of any caste, a religious mendicant. The ashes of
cow-dung are considered purifying: these people are often rubbed over
from head to foot with an ashen mixture, and have a strange dirty white,
or rather blue appearance. Ganges mud, cow-dung, and ashes of cow-dung,
form, I believe, the delectable mixture.
The sectarial marks or symbols are painted on their faces according to
their caste, with a red, yellow, white, or brown pigment, also on their
breasts and arms. Their only covering is a bit of rag passed between the
legs and tied round the waist by a cord or rope.
One man whom I saw this day at the Melā was remarkably picturesque, and
attracted my admiration. He was a religious mendicant, a disciple of
Shivŭ. In stature he was short, and dreadfully lean, almost a skeleton.
His long black hair, matted with cow-dung, was twisted like a turban
round his head,—a filthy jŭta[99]! On his forehead three horizontal
lines were drawn with ashes, and a circlet beneath them marked in red
sanders—his sectarial mark. If possible, they obtain the ashes from the
hearth on which a consecrated fire has been lighted. His left arm he had
held erect so long that the skin and flesh had withered, and clung round
the bones most frightfully; the nails of the hand which had been kept
immoveably clenched, had pierced through the palm, and grew out at the
back of the hand like the long claws of a bird of prey. His horrible and
skeleton-like arm was encircled by a twisted stick, the stem, perhaps,
of a thick creeper, the end of which was cut into the shape of the head
of the cobra de capello, with its hood displayed, and the twisted withy
looked like the body of the reptile wreathed around his horrible arm.
His only garment, the skin of a tiger, thrown over his shoulders, and a
bit of rag and rope at his waist. He was of a dirty-white or dirty-ashen
colour from mud and paint; perhaps in imitation of Shivŭ, who, when he
appeared on earth as a naked mendicant of an ashy colour, was recognized
as Mahadēo the great god. This man was considered a very holy person.
His right hand contained an empty gourd and a small rosary, and two long
rosaries were around his neck of the rough beads called mundrāsee. His
flag hung from the top of a bamboo, stuck in the ground by the side of a
trident, the symbol of his caste, to which hung a sort of drum used by
the mendicants. A very small and most beautifully formed little gynee
(a dwarf cow) was with the man. She was decorated with crimson cloth,
embroidered with cowrie shells, and a plume of peacock’s feathers as a
jika, rose from the top of her head. A brass bell was on her neck, and
around her legs were anklets of the same metal. Numbers of fakīrs come
to the sacred junction, each leading one of these little dwarf cows
decorated with shells, cowries, coloured worsted tassels, peacock’s
feathers, and bells. Some are very small, about the size of a large
European sheep, very fat and sleek, and are considered so sacred that
they will not sell them.
Acts of severity towards the body, practised by religious mendicants,
are not done as penances for sin, but as works of extraordinary merit,
promising large rewards in a future state. The Byragee is not a penitent,
but a proud ascetic. These people bear the character of being thieves and
rascals.
Although the Hindoos keep their women parda-nishīn, that is, veiled and
secluded behind the curtain, the fakīrs have the privilege of entering
any house they please, and even of going into the zenāna; and so great is
their influence over the natives, that if a religious mendicant enter a
habitation leaving his slippers at the door, the husband may not enter
his own house! They have the character of being great libertines.
On this day I purchased curious old china dishes and brass circular
locks of remarkable form. Also some brass idols that are scarce and very
valuable. I have a large collection of idols of all sorts and sizes: some
have undergone pooja for years, others are new. A native will buy a new
brass idol, Gopalu, perhaps, for fourpence (two ānās); he takes it to his
gooroo, or priest, who dips it in the Ganges; and having performed pooja
with divers ceremonies, the spirit of the god enters the idol, upon which
the gooroo receives ten or twelve rupees from the Hindoo, and restores
the idol a pukkā god! Before the money was paid or the pooja performed
it was nothing. Every Hindoo has some particular god whom he worships
especially; he keeps his image tied up in a little bag, sometimes in his
kamarband (cloth round the waist), at times in his turban, and sometimes
stuck into the thatch of the roof of his house. It accompanies him
wherever he goes: these little lares are seldom more than an inch, or two
inches in height. When a man bathes, he takes his little god out of some
corner of his attire, bathes the idol, and replaces it most carefully: to
lose it is a sign of ill luck[100].
The rosary is made use of in Persia and India by Muhammadans as well as
Hindoos, and appears with both to answer the same purpose. A bead is
dropped through the finger and thumb at the contemplation of certain
names and attributes of God, who has many appellations. The Brahmans
are constantly seen with rosaries in their hands. It is remarkable that
Christians, Hindoos, and Muhammadans, people so distant and distinct,
should use rosaries for the same purpose.
Moor mentions,—“The thousand names of Vishnŭ and Siva are strung together
in verse, and are repeated on certain occasions by Brahmans, as a sort
of Litany, accompanied sometimes by the rosary; as each name is mentally
recited, with the attention abstractedly fixed on the attribute, or
character, that such name excites the idea of, a bead is dropped through
the finger and thumb: such operation is supposed to assist and promote
abstraction, an attainment that enthusiastic Hindoos think exceedingly
efficacious.”
I have a short rosary which I obtained from a fakīr in Bengal with five
or six small idols that had been worshipped for years: he gave the whole
for a few rupees. The rosary consisted of beads of chalcedony, sulimāni
stones, coral, amber, cornelian, agate, and other stones, curious and of
some value.
The rosaries usually worn by the Byragies are of large rough berries,
called mundrāsee; I believe they come from Madras: they are the seeds
of a tree, and are sacred. They wear them of different lengths, but the
beads are all of the same size. Brahmans wear them, and fakīrs are seldom
without one. These long mālās are worn round the neck, falling to the
knees, or over the right shoulder, and under the left arm. They exclaim,
“Ram, Ram,” as they count each bead[101].
Another mālā or rosary, which is reckoned extremely holy, is always made
of the wood of some sacred tree. On every head is carved the name of
their warrior god Ram; and they count it, saying at every bead, “Ram,
Ram.” These are made at Benares, and sold at the Melā at Prāg. They are
either black and white, or pink and white. The longest I procured at
the fair, contained one hundred and eight beads; the small ones, for
the hand, contain only twenty-three[102]. Necklaces are also made of
the babūl, and every other sort of sacred wood. The men wear them, and
consider them very holy. Other rosaries are formed of the grey nut, the
seed of the bonduc-tree. During the fair time, you will see turners
sitting on the sands and turning these very minute wooden beads. It is
remarkable that they bore the beads at the same time that they turn them,
with great rapidity—bored and turned at once. The smaller the bead, the
more expensive the necklace; but the utmost price amounts only to two
ānās.
I also bought a mālā for a horse, which the natives say possesses great
power as a charm; of what it is composed, I know not: the beads are
somewhat of the shape and size of a pigeon’s egg, and opaque white, but
appear not to be of glass or china. It looks well on the neck of a black
horse. The natives tie one bead of this sort upon a horse’s fetlock to
avert the evil eye and keep off maladies. With a whole mālā the horse
must bear a charmed life!
Rosaries are counted for devotion, but oftener for good luck. The rosary
counted by the prime minister during breakfast, at the King of Oude’s,
consisted of pearls of enormous size. No one could be more superstitious
than the Nawāb Hakīm Mehndi; doubtless he told his beads for good luck.
Pilgrims, carriers of the holy water, come in gangs from great distances
to the Triveni; the processions are most picturesque, and they are very
remarkable people. They carry two baskets, suspended by a bamboo over
their shoulders, with a canopy above them, gaily decorated with bells
and flags; these baskets contain small stumpy bottles of the thinnest
green glass, having long necks; they are filled with Ganges water
at the junction, and sealed with the seal of a Brahman at the Bene
(bathing-place). These people travel all over the country, selling the
sacred water at a high price at the distant stations. Some of the bottles
are not above two inches high, others contain a quart; they are of all
sizes, and the price varies accordingly. The salutation of these people
on passing is, “Ram ram,” or “Bom bom mahadēo;” a pilgrim of this class
is called a Kanwar Wālā. The men come for this water to place it in their
houses for religious and medicinal uses, and sometimes perform a journey
on the occasion of five or six months; it is also used in the English
courts of justice, in administering an oath to an Hindoo.
_Jan. 11th._—Some natives are at the door with the most beautiful snakes,
two of them very large, and striped like tigers; the men carry them
twisted round their bodies, and also round their necks, as a young lady
wears a boa; the effect is good. The two tiger-striped ones were greatly
admired as a well-matched pair; they are not venomous. A fine cobra, with
his great hood spread out, made me shrink away as he came towards me,
darting out his forked tongue.
There were also two snakes of a dun yellow colour, spotted with white,
which appeared in a half torpid state; the men said they were as
dangerous as the cobra. They had a biscobra; the poor reptile was quite
lame, the people having broken all its four legs, to prevent its running
away. They had a large black scorpion, but not so fine a fellow as that
in my bottle of horrors.
The melā is very full; such beautiful dresses of real sable as I have
seen to-day brought down by the Moguls for sale! Lined with shawl,
they would make magnificent dressing-gowns. I have bought a Persian
writing-case, and a book beautifully illuminated, and written in Persian
and Arabic: the Moguls beguile me of my rupees.
We are going to a ball to-night at Mr. F⸺’s, given in honour of Lady
Wm. Bentinck, who is expected to arrive this evening. The natives have
reported the failure of Messrs. Mackintosh & Co., in Calcutta; I do not
think it is known amongst the Europeans here; the natives always get the
first intelligence; I will not mention it, lest it should throw a shade
over the gaiety of the party. An officer, who got the lākh, and 60,000
rupees also in the lottery last year, passed down the river to-day,
to place it in Government security; it is all gone; a note has been
despatched to inform him of the failure, and save him a useless trip of
eight hundred miles; he lost twenty-five thousand only a few weeks ago,
by Messrs. Alexander’s failure. Lachhmī abides not in his house.
_12th._—The ball went off very well, in spite of Messrs. Mackintosh’s
failure being known; and people who had lost their all danced as merrily
as if the savings of years and years had not been swept away by “one fell
swoop!”
_20th._—It is so cold to-day, I am shivering; the cocoa-nut oil in the
lamps is frozen slightly; this weather is fit for England. I must get all
the bricklayer’s work over before the hot winds, that I may be perfectly
quiet during the fiery time of the year.
_21st._—This being a great Hindoo holiday and bathing day, induced me to
pay another visit to the fair. Amongst the tamāshā (sport) at the melā,
was a Hindoo beggar, who was _sitting upon thorns_, up to his waist in
water!—an agreeable amusement. One man played with his right hand on a
curious instrument, called a been, while in his left hand he held two
pieces of black stone, about the length and thickness of a finger, which
he jarred together in the most dexterous manner, producing an effect
something like castanets, singing at the same time. The passers by threw
cowries, pāisa (copper coins), and rice to the man.
I purchased two musical instruments, called surinda, generally used by
the fakīrs, most curious things; Hindoo ornaments, idols, china, and some
white marble images from Jeypore.
Amongst other remarkable objects of worship which I beheld at the sacred
spot, was one joint of the backbone of some enormous fish or animal; two
great staring circular eyes were painted upon it, and the ends of the
bone stood out like the stumps of amputated arms; a bit of ghuwā (red
cloth) covered the lower part; and this was an image of Juggernath[103]!
It had worshippers around it; rice and cowries were the offerings spread
before it.
On platforms raised of mud and sand, some ten or twelve missionaries
were preaching; every man had his platform to himself, and a crowd of
natives surrounded each orator. Seeing one of my own servants, an Hindoo,
apparently an attentive listener, I asked the man what he had heard. “How
can I tell?” said he; “the English padre is talking.” I explained to him
the subject of the discourse, and received for answer, “Very well; it is
their business to preach, they get pāisa for so doing; what more is to be
said?”
A large number of fine marble images having been brought down from
Jeypore, for sale at the great fair, I sent a Rajpūt to the owner, and,
after much delay and bargaining, became the possessor of the large
white marble image of Gŭnéshŭ which adorns the frontispiece. The man
had scruples with regard to allowing me to purchase the idol, but sold
it willingly to the Rajpūt. In this place, I may as well describe
the frontispiece. The history of Gŭnéshŭ is fully related in the
Introduction; and the chaunrīs above his head of the tail of the yāk, the
cow of Thibet, have been described in the Twenty-second Chapter, page 239.
Ram, the deified hero, with his bow of marvellous power, stands on the
left of the shrine; the image is carved in white marble, painted and
gilt, and is twenty-one inches in height; its history is related in the
Ram Leela festival, page 108.
On the right, Krishnŭ the beloved is playing on his pipe; the figure
is of black marble, sixteen inches high; his life and history will be
explained hereafter, in a chapter entitled Radha Krishnŭ.
On the second step of the altar, to the right of Gŭnéshŭ, the first
figure, is that of a woman supporting a five-wicked lamp in her hands,
which is used in pooja. The figure is of brass, and has a handle to it.
The receptacles for oil or ghee are small, and of a mystic shape; a lamp
of this description is called pancharty.
Next to this figure, on the same step, are two little chirāghs (lamps),
with small cotton wicks; they are lighted; the little cups are of brass.
Lamps of this sort are burned before every shrine; and at the Dewālī, the
temples and ghāts are illuminated with thousands of these chirāghs, which
are then formed of red pottery.
Next to the lamps is a small lota, for carrying Ganges water, wherewith
to bathe the idol.
Near them are two bells, which are used in pooja.
The bell (gant’ha) is essential in holy ceremonies, and is rung at
certain times to scare away evil spirits. Bells are much used in and
about Hindoo temples, but were rejected by Mahommedans, by order of
their prophet, who deemed them relics of superstition. Those used by the
Hindoos differ in make according to the deity in whose honour pooja is
performed.
The bells are of brass; the handle of one of them is composed of two
images of Hŭnoomān back to back; the handle of the other represents
Hŭnoomān and Garuda, in the same attitude; on the top of the handle of
another the holy cow is _couchant_.
The spouted vessel (jari) holds lustral water, and is of brass.
Next to the jari are three more lamps; and beyond them is a Nāga Linga
Nandī, carved in black marble; it represents Nandī the bull kneeling and
supporting a Linga on his back, in the centre of which rise Siva’s five
heads,—four heads supporting the fifth,—over which protrudes the head of
a snake. The exterior is beaded; a snake is within it, the tail of which
nearly reaches the end of the figure. The scale is too small to allow of
a distinct representation.
On the first step of the altar, at the feet of the black marble image of
Krishnŭ is the bull-mouthed shell, which is considered holy, and often
placed on a shrine. Shells as well as flowers are used for adornment.
The white conch shell (Sankh) has been described in the Introduction;
the sankh or shŭnkhŭ, a shell conferring victory on whomsoever should
sound it, was one of the fourteen articles, usually called fourteen gems,
that were obtained at the churning of the sea. Shell ornaments worn by
females on the wrist are prescribed by the Shastr. At the hour of death,
a female leaves her ornaments to whomsoever she pleases; sometimes to
her spiritual guide, or to the family priest. A person not bequeathing
something to these people is followed to the next world with anathemas.
Next to the conch is a brazen lota, highly polished and engraved; it is
used for Ganges water, oil, or ghee; water is always presented to bathe
the idol.
The figure adjoining is a brazen image of Devi, a goddess (the term is
generally applied to Doorga), but I know not of what particular goddess
this is the representation. In her right hand she bears a mirror; in
the left, a small lamp of mystic shape, similar to the boat-like argha.
She stands upon a tortoise, which is made to contain Ganges water:
the head of the tortoise unscrews, to admit the liquid. The Devi is
ornamented with necklaces and bracelets; and in her ears are enormously
thick ear-rings: to insert them, it is necessary to elongate the lobe
of the ear; and having cut in it a slit nearly an inch in length, the
end of the ear-ring is inserted. These ear-rings are worn by women of
the lower orders, made of bamboo, painted and gilt. Some wear them of
pewter, ornamented in colours; and some of the richer classes have them
of silver, set with precious stones.
Against the edge of the step next to the Devi is a small circular
copper-plate, the edges of which are scalloped. In front of it is another
little plate made of brass, of which the interior is engraved.
The lustral spoons are called Sruva and Druva, in Sanscrit: by the
Mahrattas and other Hindoos, Pulahi and Atchwan; and have different
forms according to the rites or objects of adoration. One of the spoons
represents Naga the holy serpent, overspreading Gŭnéshŭ; on the other,
the Naga overspreads the image of some deity, of whose name I am
ignorant; and on another, the spread hood of the snake appears to cover
Hŭnoomān.
Next to the spoon is the argha, a vessel shaped like a boat, used by
the Hindoos in lustrations; it is of spout-like form, so that liquids
may be poured from it. Lustral ceremonies are deemed very important by
Brahmans, and are attended to as prescribed in their books, with the most
minute particularity. Images are frequently bathed with water, oil, &c.;
indeed, there is no end to lustral ceremonies, and spoons and arghas
are therefore in extensive use. In marriage, and in funeral ceremonies,
as well as in the Sraddha, funeral obsequies in honour of deceased
ancestors, an argha is indispensable.
In the centre of the shrine is a brazen image of Gunga the deified river,
which was also procured at this great bathing festival. It represents
a woman sitting on an alligator, or the sea animal Mŭkŭrŭ. One hand is
open in charity, one forbids fear, one bears a water-lily, and the fourth
a lota. She is the daughter of Mount Himavŭt. This idol is rare and
valuable. Gunga-jee-ke-jy! “Victory to Gunga-jee!”
Other heathen nations appear to have held certain rivers sacred: hence,
Naaman the Syrian said, “Are not Abana and Pharpar, rivers of Damascus,
better than all the waters of Israel? May I not wash in them and be
clean?”
The Dŭshŭhŭra festival is held in commemoration of Gunga’s descent on
earth. Crowds of people assemble from the different towns and villages
near the river, especially at the most sacred places, bringing their
offerings of fruit, rice, flowers, fresh garlands, cloth, sweetmeats, &c.
“O goddess! the owl that lodges in the hollow of a tree on thy banks is
exalted beyond measure; while the emperor, whose palace is far from thee,
though he may possess a million of stately elephants, and may have the
wives of millions of conquered enemies to serve him, is nothing.”
The next object is a pair of small cymbals, which are sounded by the
priest in time to his chanted prayer.
Beyond them is a large highly-ornamented circular brass dish, containing
a peealu or brass drinking cup, in which is either oil or holy water:
this cup has figures carved upon it. By its side is a small brass plate,
filled with rice, which the devotee takes up in the spoon, and puts upon
the head of the idol. Various sacred flowers are also carried in the
circular dish, to strew over and before the god. In the early morning
you often see the Hindoos, both men and women, going to a shrine with a
circular brass dish of this description similarly filled.
The next figure is Hŭnoomān, the monkey god, carrying Ram and Seeta
on his shoulders in commemoration of his bringing them in safety from
Ceylon.—See p. 110.
Beyond this figure is a conch shell and another bull-mouthed shell; and
thus ends the description of the shrine of Gŭnéshŭ in the frontispiece.
In front of my cabinet stands a very large Brahmanical bull, by name
Chamēlee, carved in white marble, painted and gilt. A curious Persian
writing has just been offered to the Nandī (the bull), which Chamēlee has
been graciously pleased to accept and add to the cabinet over which he
presides.
The image of the sacred bull in black or white marble is worshipped in
the temples of the Hindoos.
CHAPTER XXIV.
THE NUT LOG.
The Hounds—A Gumuki—The Eade—Trelawny—The Rev. J. Wolff—The
Nut Log—Balancing Goat—Sirrākee Grass—A Dividend—Ear-rings
of Jasmine—A Rat given to a Cow—The Mādār—Enamelled
Grasshoppers—The Shaddock—The Agra Gun—Corruption of
words—Variegated Locusts—Beautiful Flowers.
1833, _Feb. 1st._—The new hounds have just arrived; such little animals
by the side of Jan Peter (Trumpeter) and Racer! Out of eight couple there
is not a good dog; the gentlemen say three hundred rupees, _i.e._ £30, is
a long price for dogs not worth their food, and who would be better out
of than in the pack.
At the fair to-day, I purchased a gumuki, a sort of loose bag, the shape
of a carpenter’s square, large enough to admit the hand at one end, but
sewed up at the other. It is made of blue cloth, embroidered with figures
of the holy cow. A Hindoo will perform pooja seated on the ground, his
right hand passed into a bag of this sort. His hand holds, and he counts
most sedulously, a rosary of round beads (mālā), containing in number one
hundred and eight, exclusive of connecting beads, differently shaped: the
attention is abstractedly fixed on the deity, assisted by the rosary.
Sometimes it is composed of amber, sometimes of certain rough berries
sacred to the gods. Such rosaries, when used to promote abstraction,
are called jap-mālā. During the time, a cloth is bound over his mouth,
to prevent the entrance of insects; and he is supposed to be in holy
meditation.
_Feb. 22nd._—To-day is the Eed: it is customary for the Musulmāns to
put on very gay new clothes on this day, and to go to prayers at the
Jāmma Musjid, the large mosque on the banks of the Jumna. A camel is
often sacrificed on the Buckra Eed, on the idea that the animal will
be in readiness to carry the person who offers it over the bridge of
Sirraat, safe to heaven. The poorer classes will offer a goat (Buckra),
or a sheep, lambs, or kids. This festival is to commemorate Abraham’s
sacrifice of Isaac. The Musulmāns contend it was Ishmael not Isaac who
was the offering.
I have lost my companion, my horse Trelawny: he was so quiet, and
good-tempered, and good-looking; he was as pretty a boy as Hindoo or
Musulmān might look on in the Central Provinces. Poor Trelawny, Jumna-jee
rolls over my good steed! He died this morning of inflammation, caused by
some internal injury he received when we were plunging together in the
quicksands on the banks of the Ganges.
I am reading Captain Mundy’s “Sketches in India,” a much more amusing
journal than I can write. I have no tigers to kill, no hurdwar to visit;
nor have I even seen the taj. His journal is very spirited, very correct,
and very amusing; I am pleased to hear the praises bestowed upon it in
England.
Have you heard of the Rev. Joseph Wolff? He is a German Jew converted
to the faith of Christ: “Unto the Jews a stumbling-block, and unto the
Greeks foolishness.” He roams about the world in search of the lost
tribes of Israel, “preaching Christ, and him crucified,” in the churches,
and delivering lectures on the subject of the divinity of our Saviour,
and his own wanderings. When at Simla, he was with Lord William Bentinck,
and preached every Sunday in the presence of the Governor-general,
which he would not have been allowed to do had he not been an ordained
clergyman. He arrived here three days ago. In the evening he delivered
a lecture in the Fort, which was attended by all the inhabitants of
Allahabad. Curiosity is, I fear, stronger than religion; for I never
before saw the church so crowded.
My husband accompanied me to hear Mr. Wolff. He is a strange and most
curious-looking man; in stature short and thin; and his weak frame
appears very unfit to bear the trials and hardships to which he has been,
and will be, exposed in his travels. His face is very flat, deeply marked
with small-pox; his complexion that of dough, and his hair flaxen. His
grey eyes roll and start, and fix themselves, at times, most fearfully;
they have a cast in them, which renders their expression still wilder.
Being a German, and by birth a Jew, his pronunciation of English is very
remarkable; at times it is difficult to understand him: however, his
foreign accent only gives originality to his lectures, aided occasionally
by vehement gesticulation. His voice is deep and impressive; at times,
having given way to great and deep enthusiasm, and having arrested the
attention of his hearers, he sinks at once down into some common-place
remark, his voice becoming a most curious treble, the effect of which
is so startling, one can scarcely refrain from laughter. He understands
English very well; his language is excellent, but evidently borrowed more
from reading than from conversation. He makes use of words never used in
common _parlance_, but always well and forcibly applied. He carries you
along with him in his travels, presenting before you the different scenes
he has witnessed, and pointing out those customs and manners still in
use, which prove the truth of Scripture. His descriptions at times are
very forcible, and his account of the lives of St. Augustine and other
holy men very interesting.
In the midst of his discourse he said, “It is the custom in Jerusalem,
every Friday, for the Jews, the veils over their heads, in mourning and
lamentation, to proceed to the ruins of the walls of Jerusalem: for this
they pay tribute to the Turks. I will give you an idea of the hymn they
sing—the whole congregation:—
“‘The Mighty shall build his Temple speedily:
Lord, build, Lord, build, build thy Temple speedily:
In haste, in haste, even in our days,
Build thy Temple speedily.
He is beloved, he is great, he is glorious, he is sweet!
Lord, build, build thy Temple speedily:
In haste, in haste, even in our days,
Lord, build thy Temple speedily!’”
Having repeated this hymn in English, Mr. Wolff sang it in Hebrew, as the
Jews sing it before the wall of the Temple. His voice is fine, and the
words are melodious; I give them as written by himself.
HEBREW HYMN.
[Illustration: Hebrew Hymn.]
Transcriber’s Note: The music contains two errors, both corrected in the
audio file. Third system, bass clef, second bar, first note: Arpeggio is
missing. Fourth system, bass clef, first bar, first chord: Note written
as F is meant to be played as G.
“Ader ho, ader ho, yebne beitho bekarob,
Bimbeira, bimbeira, beyameenoo bekarob.
Eil bene, Eil benei, benei beitkha bekarob
Bimbeira, bimbeira, beyameenoo bekarob
Eil bene, Eil bene, benei beitkha bekarob.
Barokh hoo, gadol hoo, yebne beitho bekarob
Bimbeira, bimbeira, beyamenoo bekarob.
Eil bene, Eil benei, benei beitkha bekarob
Bimbeira, bimbeira, beyameenoo bekarob.
Eil bene, Eil bene, benei beitkha bekarob.”
I could not but feel for the man when I thought of the glory of his
nation that had passed away, the Temple that had been destroyed, and the
Jews wanderers on the face of the earth. Their supplication to the Lord
is affecting. “Even in our days build thy Temple speedily.” Mr. Wolff
repeated the hymn of the Carāites, and then chanted it in Hebrew: it is
beautiful and touching. The Rabbi, Simon Ben Nuhai, stood forth from the
congregation, and chanted these words:—
The Rabbi—
“On account of our Palace which is destroyed.”
And the people answer—
“We sit alone and weep!”
“On account of our Temple which is laid waste.”
“We sit alone and weep!”
“On account of Jerusalem which is desolate.”
“We sit alone and weep!”
“On account of our Princes who have sinned.”
“We sit alone and weep!”
The Rabbi—
“On account of our Kings who have committed iniquity.”
And the people answer—
“We sit alone and weep!”
“On account of our High Priests who have done wickedly.”
“We sit alone and weep!”
“On account of our Prophets who have seen false visions.”
“We sit alone and weep!”
“On account of our precious stones which are burned.”
“We sit alone and weep!”
Rabbi—
“Let shine thy government upon Zion.”
People—
“And build thou the walls of Jerusalem.”
Rabbi—
“Have mercy upon Zion.”
People—
“A branch shall spring forth at Jerusalem!”
A lady brought Mr. Wolff to call upon me, he being anxious to see my
collection of Hindoo idols. On his arrival, he introduced himself in
these words:—“I am of the tribe of Benjamin, and Benjamin was a ravening
wolf,—and so, they call me Wolff!”
On Sunday he preached, or rather gave us a homily, which was sufficiently
startling for even us Indians. What you sober people in England would
think of it, I know not. We dined at Mr. F⸺’s house, and met Mr. Wolff.
After dinner, he was very anxious all the ladies should write their names
in his Bible, which is seldom out of his hands, and was in such a state
I did not like to touch it. Should he visit Hampshire, he will give
lectures: they are worth hearing. Perhaps he will repeat the story of
the mother of St. Augustine. All that I recollect of it is, the mother,
weeping bitterly, spoke to some holy man respecting her son, whose
conduct gave her pain. He answered, “The child of a mother of so many
tears cannot be lost.” This child was afterwards St. Augustine. It is
very beautiful, “The child of a mother of so many tears cannot be lost!”
I gave Mr. Wolff two Hindoo idols, with which he was much pleased: he
interests himself in the Muhammadan religion, but is entirely ignorant
respecting the worship of the Hindoos.
THE NUT LOG.
_19th._—Yesterday, some wandering gypsies (Nut Log) came to the door;
they were a family of tumblers. Nut is the name of a tribe who are
generally jugglers, rope-dancers, &c. There was one girl amongst
them whose figure was most beautiful, and her attitudes more classic
and elegant than any I have ever beheld; Madame Sacci would hide her
diminished head before the supple and graceful attitudes of this Indian
girl.
A man placed a solid piece of wood, of the shape of an hour-glass, and
about eighteen inches in height, on his head; the girl ran up his back,
and, standing on one foot on the top of the wood, maintained her balance
in the most beautiful attitude, whilst the man ran round and round in a
small circle; she then sprang off his head to the ground. After this she
again ran up his back, and kneeling on the hour-glass-like wood on his
head, allowed him to run in the circle; then she balanced herself on the
small of her back, her hands and feet in the air! After that, she stood
on her head, her feet straight in the air, the man performing the circle
all the time! The drapery worn by the natives falls in the most beautiful
folds, and the girl was a fit subject for a statuary: I was delighted.
They placed a brass vessel, with dust in it, behind her back on the
ground, whilst she stood erect; she bent backwards, until her forehead
touched the dust in the vessel, and took up between her eyelids two bits
of iron, that looked like bodkins; the brass pan in which they were
laid was only about two inches high from the ground! She threw herself
into wonderful attitudes with a sword in her hand. A set of drawings,
illustrating all the graceful positions which she assumed would be very
interesting; I had never seen any thing of the kind before, and thought
of Wilhelm Meister. The Nut Log consisted of five women, one little
child, and one man, who performed all these extraordinary feats; another
man beat a tōm-tōm to keep time for them, and accompanied it with his
voice; the poor little child performed wonderfully well. She could not
have been more than six years old; the other girl was, I should suppose,
about eighteen years of age.
Another exhibition worth seeing is an Hindostanī juggler, with his goat,
two monkeys, and three bits of wood, like the wood used in England to
play the devil and two sticks. The first bit of wood is placed on the
ground, the goat ascends it, and balances herself on the top; the man by
degrees places another bit of wood on the upper edge of the former; the
goat ascends, and retains her balance; the third piece, in like manner,
is placed on the top of the former two pieces; the goat ascends from the
two former, a monkey is placed on her back, and she still preserves the
balance. I have seen this curious performance many times. The man keeps
time with a sort of musical instrument, which he holds in his right hand,
and sings a wild song to aid the goat; without the song and the measured
time, they say the goat could not perform the balance.
When I first came up the country, nothing excited my admiration more
than the sirrākee[104] grass in full flower, bending to the wind, and
recovering its position so elegantly. This magnificent grass is often
sixteen feet high, on which the bloom gracefully waves, like bending
feathers.
_May 1st._—“Notice was given in the supreme Court, that Messrs. Gould and
Campbell would pay a dividend, at the rate of nine gundahs, one cowrie,
one cawg, and eighteen teel, in every sicca rupee, on and after the first
of June.”
A curious dividend,—not quite a farthing in the rupee[105]!
_10th._—O! Western shore! on which I have passed so many happy days;
what would I not give for your breezes, to carry away this vile Indian
languor, and rebrace my nerves? In front of the thermantidote, and under
a pankhā, still there appears to be no air to breathe! This easterly
wind is killing; I have in general liked the hot winds, and have found
my health good during the time; but this heavy, unnatural atmosphere
overpowers me. I see a man crossing the parched and dusty compound, with
a lota (brass bowl) and a phleme in his hand, to bleed eleven gynees
(dwarf cows), and two horses,—all ill of infectious fever! I must return
to my book and my sofa, and dream away the hours.
Shall I ever see again those beautiful scenes which _I now see_? Shall
I ascend again that Mont Anvert, and look down upon the Mer-de-glace?
Twenty mosquitoes, of which I have just caught one, say, No; but I say,
Yes; and I hope once more to behold the lovely vistas in the New Forest,
and once again to muse by the sad sea waves on the Western shore.
_17th._—My ayha was decorated last night with ear-rings, made of freshly
gathered jasmine flowers, strung double on a wire, and hanging down to
her shoulders; the scent was so powerful, I could not endure it in the
room. Under her chādar they had a good effect; she wore the bela, the
double Arabian jasmine (jasminum sambac pleno; jasminum, from the Arabian
ysmyn).
The flowers are most overpoweringly sweet, pure white, and double.
Native women are extremely fond of decorating themselves with necklaces,
ear-rings, and bracelets, formed of freshly gathered flowers.
The champa is a flowering tree (michelia champaca), sweet-scented
michelia. From the bud of the champa flower is taken the pattern of the
champa-kullee necklaces the Indian women wear; kullee, a bud.
_21st._—We have had heavy storms, with hailstones of most surprising
magnitude; I wish the wind would change; the new moon has “the old moon
in her arms,” and if the wind change not now, we shall still have to
endure this dreadful weather. The garden is a cake of parched white
earth, all split and cracked.
What plagues these servants are! This morning, one of the cows being very
ill, I ordered a mixture for her; at sunset it had not been given to her,
because, to use the man’s own words, “he wished to send a man into the
district, to dig up a _certain sort of rat_, which rat, having been mixed
up with hot spices, he would give to the cow, and she would be well!”
Very provoking! the animal will die on account of not having had a
proper remedy administered in time. One has to fight against the climate
and the servants until one is weary of life.
_23rd._—Such a disaster in the quail-house! Through the negligence, or
rather stupidity, of the khānsāmān, 160 fat quail have been killed.
_June 1st._—The Muharram is over; I am glad of it, it unsettles all the
servants so much, and nothing is ever well done whilst they are thinking
of the Taziya.
_4th._—Last night we drove to the churchyard, to visit the tomb of one of
the most charming girls I ever met with, who had departed in her youth
and beauty’s prime: it was a melancholy visit.
One of the Fitzclarences died at Allahabad, and was buried here, without
any name or inscription on the tomb; within the last six months an
inscription has been put upon it, by order of Lord William Bentinck.
In the churchyard was a great number of plants of the mādār or ark,
(asclepias gigantea,) gigantic swallow-wort. Upon them we found the
most beautifully spotted creatures, like enamelled grasshoppers; they
appear partial to this plant, the ark; when alive, their spots are most
beautiful, in dying, all their brilliancy vanishes. I gathered a quantity
of the fine down from the pods of the mādār, and gave it to a gentleman
fond of experiments, who says he will weave it as a shawl is woven, and
see if it will answer.
_19th._—The air is so oppressive, it appears full of dust, so white, so
hot! the atmosphere is thick and dull,—no rain! This day last year a fine
storm refreshed the earth. The leaves are all falling off the trees,
dried up by the sun; numerous trees are dead, burnt up; not a blade of
grass! every thing so dusty! I wish the rains would come; this easterly
wind, with a thermometer at 91° at noon, is terrible! The pummelo-tree
presents a curious appearance; the whole of the leaves are parched, and
have fallen from the tree, leaving sixty fine green pummeloes hanging on
the naked branches!
The pummelo, called by the natives batavi-nemoo, is the citrus decumana,
_orange pampelmouse_, or shaddock; it was brought from the West Indies
by Capt. Shaddock, from whom it derives its name; the fruit grows to the
size of a child’s head, and is very delicious; it is a native of China
and Japan.
_25th._—Any thing like the severity of these hot winds we have never
experienced; the thermometer to-day 93°! Our khānsāmān, Suddu Khān, has
had a stroke of the sun; he went out about two miles and a half, to buy
grapes, which at this season are very fine and excellent; returning, he
fell down by the churchyard, and was conveyed home: it shows how the
natives feel the severity of the weather. Grapes, mangoes, mango-fool,
and iced-water are our luxuries. The fields of sugar-cane are all burnt
up, the cotton-plants dying for want of rain, and in the mango topes
(plantations) half the trees are destroyed.
A swarm of locusts have passed over the cantonments; the natives say they
foretel rain; would it were come! The people are dying daily, and the
Europeans also at Dinapore are carried off three and four a day.
THE GREAT GUN AT AGRA.
“The utmost offer that has yet been made for the metal of the great gun
is sixteen rupees per maund; it is proposed to put it up now for sale by
auction, at the Agra-Kotwallee, in the course of next month; the upset
price of the lots to be fourteen ānās per seer.
“The destruction of the Agra gun, our readers are aware, has, for some
time past, been entrusted to the executive engineer. As stated in the
last _Meerut Observer_, an attempt was made first to saw, and afterwards
it was intended to break it to pieces. In the mean time, it is lying,
like Robinson Crusoe’s boat, perfectly impracticable under the fort.
Though there is a tradition in the city of its weight being 1600 maunds,
it has not been found, on actual measurement, to contain more than 845
mds. 9s., which, at the rate of two lbs. to the seer, would be equal to
30 tons, 3 cwt. 2 qrs. 18 lbs. The analysis of the filings made by the
deputy Assay Master in Calcutta was, we understand, as follows:—
Copper. Tin.
1 29·7 7·3
2 92·2 7·8
3 88·3 11·7
----- ----
Mean 91·06 8·94
“The gun, from its size, is naturally regarded by the native population
as one of the lions of our city. Of the Hindoos, too, many are accustomed
to address their adorations to it, as they do, indeed, to all the arms
of war, as the _roop_ of Devee, the Indian Hecate. Beyond this, Hindoo
tradition has not invested the gun with any character of mythological
sanctity. The antiquaries of our city, indeed, say that it was brought
here by the Emperor Acbar, perhaps from the fortress of Chittore. We
have, however, ourselves been unable to find any mention of it in
_tawareek_ of that reign, or of any subsequent period. Among its other
just claims to be saved from the hands of the _Thatheras_, we must not
forget the fact of its having once fired a shot from Agra to Futtehpoor
Sicri, a distance of twenty-four miles. A stone ball now marks the spot
where it fell to the student in artillery practice, putting him entirely
out of conceit of the vaunted power of Queen Elizabeth’s pocket pistol,
which we believe can scarcely carry one-third of that distance. The
fellow of the Agra gun is stated to be still embedded in the sands of the
Jumna.
“Its destruction seems as unpopular with the natives as it is with the
European community. Its doom, however, being, we believe, sealed, we are
gratified to think that the proceeds of its sale are to be devoted to the
erection of a permanent bridge of boats over the Jumna at this city, the
estimate for which, the supposed value of the gun, with an advance of one
or two years’ ferry tolls, is expected to meet. The future surplus funds
derived from the bridge will probably, we hear, be expended in forming a
new branch road from Raj-ghaut to Mynpoory, to unite with the grand trunk
now making between Allahabad and Delhi, under Captain Drummond. We shall,
however, postpone till another opportunity our remarks on this and other
plans to improve the means of communication in this quarter.”—_Mofussil
Achbar_.
“At five o’clock on Wednesday morning, the Great Gun at this place was
burst, other means of breaking it up having proved unsuccessful. The
gun was buried about twenty feet deep in the ground, and 1000 lbs.
of gunpowder was employed for the explosion. The report was scarcely
heard, but the ground was considerably agitated, and a large quantity
of the earth was thrown on all sides. As far as we can learn, the chief
engineer has at length been completely successful. A large portion of
the European community and multitudes of natives were present to witness
the novel spectacle. The inhabitants of the city were so alarmed, that a
considerable portion abandoned their houses, and that part of the town in
the vicinity of the Fort was completely deserted.”—_Mofussil Achbar, June
29._
_July 18th._—Last night, as I was writing a long description of the
tēz-pāt, the leaf of the cinnamon-tree, which humbly pickles beef,
leaving the honour of crowning heroes to the _laurus nobilis_, the
servants set up a hue and cry that one of our sā’īses had been bitten
by a snake. I gave the man a tea-spoonful of eau-de-luce, which the
khānsāmān calls “Blue-dee-roo,” mixed with a little water. They had
confined the snake in a kedgeree-pot, out of which he jumped into the
midst of the servants; how they ran! The sā’īs is not the worse for the
fright, the snake not being a poisonous one; but he says the mem sāhiba
has burnt up his interior and blistered his mouth with the medicine.
I hope you admire the corruption of eau-de-luce—blue-dee-roo! Another
beautiful corruption of the wine-coolers is, soup-tureen for sauterne!
Here is a list of absurdities:—
Harrico, harry cook.
Parsley, peter selly.
Mignionette, major mint.
Bubble-and-squeak, dublin cook.
Decree, diggery.
Christmas, kiss miss.
Butcher, voucher.
Prisoner, bridgeman.
Champagne, simkin.
Trumpeter, jan peter.
Brigade major, bridget.
Knole cole, old kooby.
An officer in the 16th Lancers told me he was amused the other day by his
servant designating the trumpeter a “poh poh walla.”
The gardener has just brought in a handful of the most beautiful _scarlet
velvet_ coloured insects, about the size of two large peas, but flattish,
and commonly found on reddish sandy soil, near grass; these insects are
used as one of those medicines which native doctors consider efficacious
in snake bites: they call them beerbotie; the scientific name is _mutella
occidentalis_.
The carpenter, in cutting down the hedge of the garden, found in the
babūl and neem-trees such beautiful creatures; they appear to be locusts;
the variety and brilliancy of their colours are wonderful. The upper
wings are green, lined out with yellow, the under wings scarlet, the body
green, yellow, and black: they are most beautifully marked. I have had
some prepared with arsenical soap.
_Aug. 4th._—I have just received a present of the first number of
Colonel Luard’s most beautiful views in India; how true they are! his
snake-catchers are the very people themselves. Apropos, we caught a young
cobra yesterday in my dressing-room; the natives said, “Do not kill it;
it is forbidden to kill the snake with the holy mark on the back of its
head,”—a mark like a horse-shoe. However, as it was the most venomous
sort of snake, I put it quietly into my “Bottle of Horrors.” They say
snakes come in pairs; we have searched the room and cannot find its
companion. It is not pleasant to have so venomous a snake twisting on the
Venetian blinds of one’s dressing-room.
_8th._—Yesterday, at dinner, our friends were praising the fatted quail,
and remarking how well we had preserved them. This morning all the
remainder are dead, about two hundred; why or wherefore I know not—it is
provoking.
We had the most beautiful bouquet on the table last night! an enormous
bowl full of flowers, in such luxuriant beauty! some few of which you may
find in hot-houses and green-houses at home. With what pleasure I looked
at them! and how much amusement taking off the impressions, or practising
the _black art_, as we call it, will afford me!
CHAPTER XXV.
THE CHOLERA.
“IT WAS HAMMERED UPON MY FOREHEAD[106].”
_i.e._ It was my destiny.
“WHERE IS THE USE OF TAKING PRECAUTIONS, SINCE WHAT HAS BEEN PRE-ORDAINED
MUST HAPPEN[107]?”
Hindoo Method of frightening away the Cholera recommended to
the Faculty—Death of the Darzee—Necromancy—The New Moon—A Bull
laden with the Pestilence—Terror of the Natives—The Patān—An
Earthquake—Sola Hats—Importation of Ice from America—Flight of
Locusts—Steam Navigation—The Civil Service Annuity Fund—The
Bāghsira—Rajpūt Encampment—Hail Storm—Delights of the Cold
Weather.
1833. _Aug. 8th._—The same terrible weather continues, the thermometer
90° and 91° all day; not a drop of rain! They prophesy sickness and
famine; the air is unwholesome; the Europeans are all suffering with
fever and ague and rheumatism. The natives, in a dreadful state, are
dying in numbers daily of cholera; two days ago, seventy-six natives in
Allahabad were seized with cholera—of these, forty-eight died that day!
The illness is so severe that half an hour after the first attack the man
generally dies; if he survive one hour it is reckoned a length of time.
A brickmaker, living near our gates, buried four of his family
from cholera in one day! Is not this dreadful? The poor people,
terror-stricken, are afraid of eating their food, as they say the disease
follows a full meal. Since our arrival in India we have never before
experienced such severely hot winds, or such unhealthy rains.
“Every country hath its own fashions[108].” The Hindoo women, in the most
curious manner, propitiate the goddess who brings all this illness into
the bazār: they go out in the evening about 7 P.M., sometimes two or
three hundred at a time, carrying each a lota, or brass vessel, filled
with sugar, water, cloves, &c. In the first place they make pooja; then,
stripping off their chādars, and binding their sole petticoat around
their waists, as high above the knee as it can be pulled up, they perform
a most frantic sort of dance, forming themselves into a circle, whilst in
the centre of the circle about five or six women dance entirely naked,
beating their hands together over their heads, and then applying them
behind with a great smack, that keeps time with the music, and with the
song they scream out all the time, accompanied by native instruments,
played by men who stand at a distance; to the sound of which these women
dance and sing, looking like frantic creatures. Last night, returning
from a drive, passing the Fort, I saw five or six women dancing and
whipping themselves after this fashion; fortunately, my companion did not
comprehend what they were about. The Hindoo women alone practise this
curious method of driving away diseases from the bazār; the Musulmānes
never. The men avoid the spot where the ceremony takes place; but here
and there, one or two men may be seen looking on, whose presence does not
appear to molest the nut-brown dancers in the least; they shriek and sing
and smack and scream most marvellously.
The moonshee tells me the panic amongst the natives is so great, that
they talk of deserting Allahabad until the cholera has passed away.
My darzee (tailor), a fine healthy young Musulmān, went home at 5 P.M.,
apparently quite well; he died of cholera at 3 P.M., the next day; he
had every care and attention. This evening the under-gardener has been
seized; I sent him medicine; he returned it, saying, “I am a Baghut
(a Hindoo who neither eats meat nor drinks wine), I cannot take your
medicine; it were better that I should die.” The cholera came across the
Jumna to the city, thence it took its course up _one side_ of the road to
the Circuit Bungalow, is now in cantonments, and will, I trust, pass on
to Papamhow, cross the Ganges, and Allahabad will once more be a healthy
place.
“Magic is truth, but the magician is an infidel[109].” My ayha said, “You
have told us several times that rain will fall, and your words have been
true; perhaps you can tell us when the cholera will quit the city?” I
told her, “Rain will fall, in all probability, next Thursday (new moon);
and if there be plenty of it, the cholera may quit the city.” She is off
to the bazār with the joyful tidings.
The Muhammadans believe the prayers of those who consult magicians are
not accepted, and that rain is given by the favour of God, not by the
influence of the moon. Muhammad forbade consulting fortune-tellers, and
gave a curious reason why they sometimes hit on the truth. “Aa’yeshah
said, ‘People asked the Prophet about fortune-tellers, whether they
spoke true or not?’ He said, ‘You must not believe any thing they say.’
The people said, ‘O messenger of God! wherefore do you say so? because
they sometimes tell true.’ Then his Highness said, ‘Yes; it may be true
sometimes, because one of the genii steals away the truth, and carries it
to the magician’s ear; and magicians mix a hundred lies with one truth.’
Aa’yeshah said, ‘I heard his Majesty say, ‘The angels come down to the
region next the world, and mention the works that have been pre-ordained
in Heaven; and the devils, who descend to the lowest region, listen to
what the angels say, and hear the orders pre-destined in Heaven, and
carry them to fortune-tellers; therefore they tell a hundred lies with
it from themselves.’ ‘Whoever goes to a magician, and asks him any thing
about the hidden, his prayers will not be approved of for forty nights
and days.’ Zaid-Vin-Rhálid said, ‘His Highness officiated as Imām to us
in Hudaibiah, after a fall of rain in the night; and when he had finished
prayers, he turned himself to the congregation, and said, ‘Do ye know
what your Cherisher said?’ They said, ‘God and his messenger know best.’
His Highness said, ‘God said, Two descriptions of my servants rose this
morning, one of them believers in me, the other infidels; wherefore,
those who have said they have been given rain by the favour of God,
are believers in me, and deniers of stars; and those who have said, we
have been given rain from the influence of the moon, are infidels, and
believers in stars.’” “An astrologer is as a magician, and a magician is
a necromancer, and a necromancer is an infidel[110].”
_Aug. 17th._—The new moon has appeared, but Prāg is unblessed with rain;
if it would but fall! Every night the Hindoos pooja their gods; the
Musulmāns weary Heaven with prayers, at the Jamma Musjid (great mosque)
on the river-side, near our house;—all to no effect. The clouds hang
dark and heavily; the thunder rolls at times; you think, “Now the rain
must come,” but it clears off with scarcely a sprinkling. Amongst the
Europeans there is much illness, but no cholera.
_22nd._—These natives are curious people; they have twice sent the
cholera over the river, to get rid of it at Allahabad. They proceed after
this fashion: they take a bull, and after having repeated divers prayers
and ceremonies, they drive him across the Ganges into Oude, laden, as
they believe, with the cholera. This year this ceremony has been twice
performed. When the people drive the bull into the river, he swims
across, and lands or attempts to land on the Lucnow side; the Oude people
drive the poor beast back again, when he is generally carried down by the
current and drowned, as they will not allow him to land on either side.
During the night, my ayha came to me three times for cholera mixture;
happily the rain was falling, and I thought it would do much more good
than all the medicine; of course I gave her the latter.
Out of sixty deaths there will be forty Hindoos to twenty Musulmāns; more
men are carried off than women, eight men to two women; the Musulmāns eat
more nourishing food than the Hindoos, and the women are less exposed to
the sun than the men.
Extract from the journal of an officer in the 16th Lancers, at Cawnpore:—
“_Aug. 20th._—A most savage and barbarous act was this day committed on
our grand parade; several officers and numbers of sipahīs stood round and
witnessed it. A Patān of high caste, and of such great muscular powers
as to be a celebrated pehlwān or wrestler, was taken up on suspicion of
theft. A barkandāz (native policeman) was sent with the prisoner to his
house, that he might eat his dinner; the Patān endeavoured to enter his
house, when the barkandāz struck him with his shoe on the mouth (the very
grossest insult that can be offered to a native). The prisoner managed to
get his hands loose, ran into a sword cutler’s (sikligur’s), snatched up
the first sword that presented itself, and cut down the barkandāz. The
Patān then ran through the city, crying, ‘Now, who will take me?’ When
he got on the grand parade he halted, and when told that he could easily
escape into the King of Oude’s territories,—‘for what is the Ganges for
such a man as you to swim?’—he answered, ‘No; I cannot live after the
insult I have received; but I will teach those rascally barkandāz how
to insult a Patān.’ He was soon surrounded by numbers of the native
police, variously armed, but he kept them all for a length of time at
defiance; at last, after receiving a great many wounds, and with his left
arm nearly severed, he fell, but still continued fighting desperately;
a musket was now sent for, and the third shot killed this brave fellow.
An officer, who stood by, and saw this brutal murder committed, told me
the prisoner cut down and wounded eleven men, and received upwards of
forty wounds. This outrage was committed in broad daylight, in front of
the sipahī lines. An occurrence of this nature would, I think, make some
little stir in England.”
The same gentleman mentions, “The natives in the bazār and surrounding
villages suffer shockingly from cholera, and you can scarcely go into
any of the thoroughfares to the ghāts, without seeing several dead
bodies being carried to the Ganges. Large groups of women, preceded by
their noisy, inharmonious music, are at all hours proceeding towards the
river, to offer up their supplications to the Gunga. The Brahmans have
forbidden any woman to sleep inside her house, and, I believe, last night
every Hindū woman in the city slept in the open air.”
_26th._—I was sitting in my dressing-room, reading, and thinking of
retiring to rest, when the khānsāmān ran to the door, and cried out,
“Mem Sāhiba, did you feel the earthquake? the dishes and glasses in the
almirahs (wardrobes) are all rattling.” I heard the rumbling noise, but
did not feel the quaking of the earth. About half-past eleven, P.M., a
very severe shock came on, with a loud and rumbling noise; it sounded
at first as if a four-wheeled carriage had driven up to the door, and
then the noise appeared to be just under my feet; my chair and the table
shook visibly, the mirror of the dressing-glass swung forwards, and two
of the doors nearest my chair opened from the shock. The house shook so
much, I felt sick and giddy; I thought I should fall if I were to try to
walk; I called out many times to my husband, but he was asleep on the
sofa in the next room, and heard me not; not liking it at all, I ran into
the next room, and awoke him; as I sat with him on the sofa, it shook
very much from another shock, or rather shocks, for there appeared to
be many of them; and the table trembled also. My ayha came in from the
verandah, and said, “The river is all in motion, in waves, as if a great
wind were blowing against the stream.” The natives say tiles fell from
several houses. A shoeing-horn, that was hanging by a string to the side
of my dressing-glass, swung backwards and forwards like the pendulum of
a clock. The giddy and sick sensation one experiences during the time of
an earthquake is not agreeable; we had one in September, 1831, but it was
nothing in comparison to that we have just experienced. Mr. D⸺ and Mr.
C⸺, who live nearly three miles off, ran out of their bungalows in alarm.
_Sept. 5th._—The rain fell in torrents all night; it was delightful to
listen to it, sounding as it was caught in the great water jars, which
are placed all round the house; now and then a badly made jar cracked
with a loud report, and out rushed the water, a proof that most of the
jars would be full by morning. From the flat clean pukkā roof of the
house the water falls pure and fresh; from the thatch of a bungalow it
would be impure. To-day it is so dark, so damp, so English, not a glimpse
of the sun, a heavy atmosphere, and rain still falling delightfully.
There is but little cholera now left in the city; this rain will carry it
all away.
Our friend Mr. S⸺ arrived yesterday: he was robbed ere he quitted
Jaunpore of almost all he possessed: the thieves carried off all his
property from the bungalow, with the exception of his sola topī, a great
broad-brimmed white hat, made of the pith of the sola.
The best sola hats are made in Calcutta; they are very light, and an
excellent defence from the sun: the root of which the topī is formed is
like pith; it is cut into thin layers, which are pasted together to form
the hat. At Meerut they cover them with the skin of the pelican, with
all its feathers on, which renders it impervious to sun or rain; and the
feathers sticking out beyond the rim of the hat give a demented air to
the wearer. The pelicans are shot in the Tarāī.
“Sholā (commonly sola), (æschynomene paludosa), the wood of which, being
very light and spongy, is used by fishermen for floating their nets. A
variety of toys, such as artificial birds and flowers, are made of it.
Garlands of those flowers are used in marriage ceremonies. When charred
it answers the purpose of tinder[111].”
How dangerous the banks of the river are at this season! Mr. M⸺ lugāoed
his boats under a bank on the Ganges; during the night a great portion
of the bank fell in, swamped the dog-boat, and drowned all the dogs. Our
friend himself narrowly escaped: his budjerow broke from her moorings,
and went off into the middle of the stream.
_19th._—The weather killingly hot! I can do nothing but read novels and
take lessons on the sitar. I wish you could see my instructor, a native,
who is sitting on the ground before me, playing difficult variations,
contorting his face, and twisting his body into the most laughable
attitudes, the man in ecstacies at his own performance!
CONSUMPTION OF ICE.
One of the most striking instances of the enterprise of the merchants of
the present age, is the importation of a cargo of ice into India from the
distant shores of America; and it is to be hoped, that the experiment
having so far succeeded, it will receive sufficient encouragement here
to ensure the community in future a constant supply of the luxury. The
speculators are Messrs. Tudor, Rogers, and Austin, the first of whom has
been engaged for fifteen or twenty years in furnishing supplies of ice to
the southern parts of America and the West Indian islands.
The following particulars will furnish an idea of the plan pursued in
this traffic, and of the cost incurred in it:—
The ice is cut from the surface of some ponds rented for the purpose in
the neighbourhood of Boston, and being properly stowed, is then conveyed
to an ice-house in the city, where it remains until transported on
board the vessel which has to convey it to its destined market. It is
always kept packed in non-conducting materials, such as tan, hay, and
pine boards, and the vessel in which it is freighted has an ice-house
built within, for the purpose of securing it from the effects of the
atmosphere. The expense to the speculators must be very considerable,
when they have to meet the charges of rent for the ponds, wages for
superintendents and labourers, and agents at the place of sale; erection
of ice-houses, transportation of the article from the ponds to the city,
thence to the vessel, freight, packing, and landing, and the delivery of
the article at the ice-house which has been built for it in Calcutta.
The present cargo has arrived without greater wastage than was at first
calculated on, and the packing was so well managed to prevent its being
affected by the atmosphere, that the temperature on board during the
voyage was not perceptibly altered. This large importation of ice may
probably give rise to experiments to ascertain in what way it may be
applied to medicinal uses, as it has already elsewhere been resorted to
for such purposes; but the chief interest the community generally will
take in it, will be the addition it will make to domestic comfort.
_Sept. 23rd._—Yesterday, at 5 P.M., whilst we were at dinner, a flight
of locusts came across the Jumna, from below the fort. The greater part
alighted on our compound: those that did not settle on the ground, flew
round and round in upper air, while thousands of them descending in
streams gave the appearance of a very severe storm of snow falling in
large dingy flakes. The air was really darkened; they settled on the
thatched roofs of the outhouses, covering them entirely. They were so
numerous the whole ground was thickly spread with them. A chaprāsī went
out with my butterfly net, and running against the stream of descending
locusts, at one attempt caught from twenty to thirty in the net; you may
therefore imagine how numerous they were. The bearers ran out, beating
brass chilamchees (washhand basons), while others, with frying-pans and
pokers, increased the din in order to drive them away, which was not
accomplished for half an hour. All the servants, Musalmān and Hindoo,
were eager to catch them; the two washermen (dhobees) showed the greatest
cleverness in the business; holding a sheet spread out between them,
they ran against the flight of descending locusts, caught great numbers,
folded the sheet quickly up to secure their prizes, and having deposited
them in a jar, spread the sheet for more.
My little terrier Fury caught twenty or thirty, if not more, and ate
them raw; it was amusing to see her run at the locusts and catch them so
cleverly.
The gentlemen rose from table, and were well repaid for their trouble,
never having seen such a marvellous flight of locusts before.
The khānsāmān Suddu Khān said, “In curry they are very good, like prawns,
but roasted whole the moment they are caught, they are delicious!” I
desired him to bring some to table, but we had not resolution enough to
taste them. Little Fury ate them all most greedily, barking and jumping
until she had finished them.
Going for our evening drive, such a smell of roasted locusts issued
forth as we passed the stables! The flight consisted of red locusts, but
amongst them were some of a bright yellow colour. Brown locusts are the
most common; the red as well as the yellow are scarce; the red in dying
become nearly quite brown.
It is recorded that Ibn-Abu-Awfi said, “I fought seven battles along with
the prophet Mahommud, and we used to eat locusts with his highness.”
The khānsāmān prepared many of the bodies with arsenical soap, and
filled them with cotton. An enormous death’s head moth flew in at the
moment, and experienced the same fate. Moths, locusts, great beetles, and
cockroaches are prepared like small birds[112].
They say red locusts predict war, the others famine. The latter
prediction is likely to prove true; the little rain that fell made the
crops spring up, since which time the sun has killed the greater part of
the young plants. All grain is very dear, and the people are exclaiming,
“We shall die, if the rain does not fall.”
Famine, earthquakes, pestilence! What do these portend? Let us not sit in
judgment man on man, or declare “The hand of God is on the earth, until
one-third of the wicked are swept away from the face of it[113].”
All the three Residencies are agog about steam navigation once again. I
think there is a fair chance of success, if the whole of the funds are
voted in support of the Bombay scheme, by which communication might be
established in fifty days; and if the overland dāk from Bombay was put
on a more speedy footing, we might hear from England within two months.
Nearly £15,000 has been already subscribed, and the work of collection
still goes on: the newspapers are flattering the rich baboos, and
dependent and independent Rajahs, and some have given their thousands.
The interference with the Company’s charter, that people in England may
drink their tea cheaper, which result, however, appears doubtful, and
that the surplus population may come out to colonize, and _cholerize_,
has done the Service no benefit. Economy is still the rage, and we of
the present day have nothing to look to but the pension from our Civil
Annuity Fund, after twenty-two years’ actual residence, of £1000, for
which we are to pay one-half, or 50,000 rupees, when we can hoard up as
much. The generality of men’s lives after twenty-two years’ residence,
and twenty-five of service, three years of these being allowed for
furlough, which few are able to take, is scarcely worth five years’
purchase. Numbers, of course, do not live out their time; and if they
have subscribed for twenty-one years and eleven months, the whole goes to
the fund, principal and interest.
_Nov. 3rd._—There are some most wondrous animals called Gungun Medha, or
Bāghsira, the latter Hindoo word meaning tiger-headed, from the shape of
the animal’s horrible head. I was told they could be dug out of the sands
on the river-side. I therefore sent the jamadar and a cooly across the
river this morning, and they brought back eight or nine of these beasts;
their wings curl up in a most singular fashion, and make them appear as
if they had four curly tails, all close together; their great jawbones
are edged like a coarse saw. They are very fierce; they fight, kill each
other, and the conqueror eats up his adversary. Their legs and wings are
most remarkable. We put two under a wire dish-cover, and they fought
fiercely, although, from having been dug up some hours, they were not as
active as at first. They bite terribly; it is necessary to seize them by
their backs like crabs to avoid a bite.
I had some Sarāta lizards dug out of the sands near the Parade ground;
they are not half as curious as these tiger-headed beasts, which are in
thousands in the sandbanks, their holes six or seven feet deep. A Rajpūt
Rana of high degree has pitched his tents in Alopee Bāgh: nineteen
guns were fired in honour of his arrival. This great man has a numerous
retinue: to bathe at the sacred junction of the rivers has brought him
to Prāg. I drove a young lady through his encampment the other evening;
many of his people came out of their tents, and absolutely ran on by the
side of our carriage, staring at us as if we were bāgh-siras (grylli
monstrosi), or animals as wonderful.
Their astonishment was great, occasioned most likely by the sight of
unveiled ladies driving about. Passing through the encampment was a
service of danger; it was difficult, in keeping clear of the teeth of the
camels, not to run against a number of stalls where cakes and sugar were
displayed for sale. No sight do I like better than a native encampment;
the groups of strange-looking men, the Arab horses, the camels,
elephants, and tents are charming. No country can furnish more or so many
picturesque scenes as India.
_Dec. 5th._—People talk of wonderful storms of hail. I have just
witnessed one so very severe, that had I not seen it, I think I should
scarcely have believed it. At ten at night a storm, accompanied by
thunder and lightning, came on; the hail fell as thick as flakes of
snow,—I can scarcely call it hail, the pieces were ice-bolts. I brought
in some which measured four inches and a half in circumference, and the
ground was covered some inches deep; it appeared as if spread with a
white sheet, when by the aid of the lightning one could see through the
darkness around. The old peepul-tree groaned most bitterly, the glass
windows were all broken, the tobacco-plants cut down, the great leaves
from the young banyan-tree were cut off, and the small twigs from the
mango and nīm trees covered the ground like a green carpet. It was a
fearful storm. The next morning for miles round you saw the effect of the
hail, and in the bazār at eight A.M. the children were playing marbles
with the hailstones.
_31st._—I trust we have now become _acclimated_, for we have nearly
passed through this year,—the most fruitful in illness and death I
recollect, both among civilians and soldiers,—without much sickness. I
have had fever and ague. My husband has suffered from acute rheumatism,
and the little pet terrier, Fury, has been delicate, but we are all now
re-established. I am on horseback every morning rejoicing in the cold
breezes, feeling as strong and full of spirit as the long-tailed grey
that carries me; and Fury is chasing squirrels and ferrets, and putting
the farm-yard to the rout.
CHAPTER XXVI.
THE MUHARRAM.
بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم
1834, _May 19th_.—The Imāms the Leaders of the Faithful—The
Muharram—The Procession—The Banners—The Band—The
Sword-bearer—The Mourners—Dhul Dhul—The Reader—The Fakīr—The
Taziya—Tomb of Kasim—Palkī and Trays of Mehndi—Charkh-charkhī
Wālā—The Bihīshtī—Camels—Elephants and Charity—The
Chameleon—The Ghirgit—An Alligator—The Tiger on his travels—A
well-educated Snake—Indian Fevers—Depression of Spirit.
“BISM ILLAH UR RAHMAN UR RAHĪM.”
“IN THE NAME OF GOD, THE COMPASSIONATE, THE MERCIFUL.”
This is written at the commencement of all Persian books and writings;
but at the top of the first page of every letter, purwanah, or short
writing, they almost invariably put only ا the letter A or ALIF, which is
a symbol of God, and is considered an abbreviation of the whole sentence
above. Alif is the first letter in the Arabic and Persian alphabets, and
in the representation of numbers it stands for _one_; whence it is also
used as a symbol of the Deity; it signifies moreover the first day in the
week, or Sunday; and in astronomical descriptions, the sign Taurus of the
zodiac.
THE IMĀMS THE LEADERS OF THE FAITHFUL.
Muhammad, the founder of the system of religion which is named after
him, descended from the tribe of Koreish, and the family of Hashem, the
most illustrious of the Arabs. He was the grandson of Abdalmotalleb,
and the son of Abdallah and Amina. He was born at Mecca, four months
after the death of Justinian. He was educated by his uncle, Abutalib, as
a merchant, his grandfather, father, and mother having died during his
infancy. In his twenty-fifth year he married a wealthy widow, Khudaijah
Koobia; and, in the fortieth year of his age, he assumed the title of
Prophet, and promulgated the religion of Islam; which asserts, “There
is no god but God, and Muhammad is the prophet of God.” In the same
year, he lost his uncle Abutalib, and his wife Khudaijah, and for this
reason that year was called the year of mourning. The prophet fled with
his friend Abubekr from Mecca to Medina, to escape from the violence of
the Koreishites, who sought his life: this flight fixed the era of the
Hegira. After an exile of seven years, Muhammad achieved the conquest
of Mecca: he was acknowledged prince and prophet by the Koreish, who
embraced Islam, and the idols in the Caaba were destroyed. In the seventh
year of the Hegira, Muhammad began to propagate his religion beyond the
boundaries of Arabia; and the last great act of his life was a pilgrimage
to Mecca, accompanied by his wives, and also by numerous camels for
sacrifice.
[Illustration: The Imàms the Leaders of the Faithful.
فاني پارکس]
He died at the age of sixty-three, and a most interesting account of his
last illness and death has been given by his favourite wife Aa’yeshah,
the daughter of his friend Abubekr: this lady was the first veiled
female; and by her he had two sons, Ishmael and Ibrahim. He was interred
at Medina. The prophet had eighteen wives, one of whom was Hafna, the
daughter of his friend and companion Omer.
Fátímah, the daughter of Muhammad and Khudaijah Koobia, married Ali, the
nephew of the prophet and the son of his uncle Abutalib.
Fátímah and Ali were the parents of Hussun and Hussein, the first
martyrs, from whom the Syuds descend.
Hussun married Ashea, by whom he had a son Kasim, who married Sakeena
Koobraah, the daughter of his brother Hussein.
Hussein had another child, a son, who was saved at the battle of
Kraabaallah; Abbas was the brother of Hussun and Hussein.
Muhammad was succeeded in the regal and sacerdotal office by his friend
and convert Abubekr; who, after a reign of two years, was followed by
Omer: the latter, after an interval of twelve years, was succeeded by
Othman, the secretary of Muhammad, and twenty-four years after the death
of the Prophet, Ali became the Imām.
After the death of Muhammad, his followers divided into two great
factions; the one acknowledged Abubekr, the father-in-law of the prophet,
as his successor, and were denominated Soonees; the other adhered to Ali,
the son-in-law of Muhammad, and were known by the title of the Sheas, who
look up to the Imāms as the leaders of the faithful. The Caliphas are
the leaders of the Soonees, who slew Imām Ali, and the descendants of
the prophet: in Hindostan the Soonees are as ten to one Shea; in Arabia
Proper Sheas are not tolerated.
THE MUHARRAM.
1834, _May 19th_.—The mourning festival of the Muhammadans in remembrance
of their first martyrs, Hussun and Hussein, lasts ten days; on the last
day the Taziya, the model of the tomb of Hussein, is interred.
Yuzeed, a Soonee, the king of Shawm, had a quarrel respecting the
succession with the Syuds, the descendants of Muhammad. Ali, the husband
of Fátíma, was first murdered by him. He left two sons, Hussun and
Hussein. Hussun, his wife Ashea, and his nurse, Be Halima, were poisoned.
To discover the state of affairs at Shawm, Hussein first sent his
cousin Moslem, who, with his two sons, quitted Medina for that purpose.
He, as well as his sons, were seized and put to death. This event is
commemorated with deep sorrow during the mourning festival. Hussein,
ignorant of the fate of Moslem, was proceeding from Medina to Shawm, in
the hope of being proclaimed the “Imām, the leader of the faithful.”
He was accompanied by all his family; on the road on the plains of
Kraabaallah, they were attacked: they defended themselves with the utmost
bravery, until every man found his grave upon the spot. This event
occurred on the tenth day of the Arabian month Muharram. The females and
one infant son were taken prisoners and conveyed to Shawm, the residence
of Yuzeed, the king. Kasim, the son of Hussun and Ashea, was engaged to
Sakeena Koobraah, his cousin, the daughter of Hussein. Hence the night of
the Mehndi and the wedding procession of the Muharram.
The ceremony takes place annually on the first day of the moon
(Muharram). Their year has twelve moons only, and they do not add a moon
every third year, as some persons suppose.
The Imām-bara is expressly built for commemorating the Muharram. In
this building the Taziya is placed facing Mecca, with the banners, the
sword, the shield, and the bow and arrows supposed to have been used
in the battle of Kraabaallah. The most magnificent Taziyas remain in
the Imām-bara. The less costly, which are used in the processions on
the tenth day, are buried, with funeral rites, in cemeteries named
Kraabaallah.
Although the Taziya, the model of their Imām’s tomb, at Kraabaallah
belongs, by right, only to the Sheas, it is remarkable that many Soonees
have Taziyas, and also some Hindoos. My cook, who was a Mug, used
to expend sometimes as much as forty rupees on a Taziya of his own;
and after having performed all the ceremonies like a good Musulmān,
returned to his original Hindooism, when he had placed his Taziya in the
burial-ground, accompanied by rice, corn, flowers, cups of water, &c.
But little or no attention is paid to the models of the Taziya: they are
of different forms, and of every variety of material, according to the
wealth of the person who sets up this remembrance of Hussein. On the
Taziya is placed a small portion of corn, rice, bread, fruits, flowers,
and cups of water; this is in accordance with the Musulmān funerals, at
which food is invariably conveyed to the tomb with the corpse.
The Taziya displayed by the king of Oude during the Muharram is composed
of green glass, with or-molu or brass mouldings. Some are of ivory,
ebony, sandal-wood, cedar, &c., or of wrought filligree silver: those
for the poor are of coloured talc.
In front of the Taziya two standards are erected, between which are laid
strings of the fresh flowers of the sweet-scented bela (jasmine); and a
chaunrī, made of the tail of the yāk, fixed in a silver handle, is used
to fan away the flies.
When the Taziya is placed in the Imām-bara, the face is turned to Mecca.
The institution of carrying the Taziya in procession first took place in
the A.H. 352, at Bagdad, under Noez-od-Dowla Dhelmé, and is never omitted
in Persia.
Hussein, on his favourite horse Dhul Dhul, was pierced by arrows without
number; the animal shared the same fate, and the Soonee Musulmāns were
the extirpators of all the race of Hussein, the son of Ali, with the
exception of one infant son and the females of the family. This is the
cause of the battles that so often take place between the Sheas and
the Soonees (whom the former regard as an accursed race) at the annual
celebration of the Muharram.
The usual arrangement of the procession is as follows:—In the order of
march the elephants first appear, on which men are seated, displaying
the consecrated banners, crowned by the spread hand. The banners are
of silk, embroidered in gold or silver. The spread hand on the top of
them represents five: Muhammad, Fátíma, Ali, Hussun, Hussein; the three
fingers, the Caliphas Omer, Osmun, and Abubekr. The Soonees favour the
latter; the Sheas uphold Imām Ali. The ends of the banners are fringed
with bullion, and they are tied with cords of gold. Then follows the
band, which is always in attendance, and is composed of Arab music only.
The jilādār or sword-bearer carries a pole, from which two naked swords,
each tipped with a lemon, are suspended from a bow reversed. The arrows
are fixed in the centre. The sword-bearer is generally dressed in green,
the mourning colour of the Syuds. The standard-bearers and a band of
musicians attend him, carrying the banner of Hussun and Hussein.
Some men, the mourners of the procession, bear long black poles, on
which are fixed very long streamers of black unspun silk, which are
intended to represent grief and despair.
The horse Dhul Dhul next appears: in the procession he sometimes bears
a Taziya, at other times he is caparisoned as if in readiness for his
master. After the Muharram, the animal and all its attire are given to a
poor Syud; the bloody horse-cloth and the legs stained red, are supposed
to represent the sufferings of the animal. The tail and mane are dyed
with mehndi or lakh dye. The horse is attended by a man carrying the
afthaadah, which is a sun embroidered on crimson velvet, affixed to the
end of a long staff, and carried in an elevated position, in order to
shelter a man of rank on horseback from the rays of the sun. Men with
chaunrīs attend to whisk away the flies from the horse: assa burdars,
men with long silver sticks, and sonta burdars, with short silver
tiger-headed staffs, walk at the side, and harkāras (running footmen) are
in attendance. An embroidered chatr (umbrella) is supported over the head
of the horse.
In the cavalcade is a chaunter or reader; he repeats affecting passages
descriptive of the death of Hussein, during which time the procession
halts for a few minutes, whilst the Musulmāns give way to the most
frantic expressions of grief, beating their breasts with violence,
throwing dust upon their heads, and exclaiming “Hussun! Hussein! Hussun!
Hussein!”
The Paīk, a Fakīr, is a remarkable person, wearing the bow, arrows,
sword, pankhā, and chaunrī of the martyred Imām. Some men in the
procession carry censers, suspended by chains, which they wave about, and
perfume the air with the incense of a sweet-scented resin; rose-water,
for sprinkling, is also carried in long-necked bottles, called gulāb-pash.
Then follows the Taziya, attended by its proprietor, his relatives, and
friends; it is surrounded by banners, and covered by a canopy upheld by
poles supported by men.
A Taziya of shields and swords, each tipped with a lemon or an orange,
is carried in procession, and on it are suspended written petitions to
Hussun and Hussein, and it is adorned with strings of freshly-gathered
jasmine flowers.
The model of the tomb of Kasim is the next object; it is covered with
gold brocade, and a canopy is supported over it, the poles carried by
men. The palkee of his bride, Sakeena Koobar, follows the tomb; and her
chandol, a sort of palanquin.
Then follow trays of mehndi, carried on the heads of men, with presents,
&c., such as are usually sent during the marriage ceremony, with flowers
of ubruk.
The charkh-charkhī wālās are numerous; the charkhī is composed of ebony
or any hard wood, about the size of a cricket-ball, divided in halves.
Each man has a pair; they are beaten in a particular manner on the flat
surface, so as to produce the sound of horses galloping; and where some
fifty or one hundred men are engaged in the performance the imitation is
excellent.
The females during the battle were perishing of thirst; Abbas, the
brother of Hussein, and his standard-bearer, made great efforts to
procure water for them, in doing which the former was severely wounded.
Hence the bihishtī with his mashk; and, in remembrance of this event,
sherbets are also distributed gratis, in red earthen cups, from temporary
sheds; abdār khanas, as they call them by the road-side. The awnings of
these sheds are reared on poles, and they are lighted by lamps made of
ubruk, or of the skeleton leaves of the peepul-tree. The bihishtī bears
the standard of Hussun and Hussein.
The camels carrying the tent equipage and luggage of Hussein represent
the style of his march from Medina to Kraabaallah. Sometimes, in
pictures, a small Taziya is drawn on the back of a camel, and the animal
is represented as issuing from a rocky pass.
Barkandāz attend, and fire their matchlocks singly and at intervals
during the march.
Great sums are expended in charity during this mourning festival, and
food is always distributed by the richer Taziyadars during the ten days.
The procession is closed by several elephants, and men seated upon them
distribute food and money to the poor.
Natives of all ranks, from the highest to the lowest, walk on the
tenth day with their heads uncovered, and without slippers, to the
Kraabaallah, whatever may be the distance; and they fast until the third
watch has passed, refraining from the hooqŭ, or from drinking water. At
the Kraabaallah the funeral ceremony is performed, and the Taziya is
committed to the grave with a solemnity equal to that which is observed
when their dead are deposited in the tomb. The native ladies within the
walls of the zenāna keep the fast with the greatest strictness, and
observe all the ceremonies of the Muharram.
A religious man will neither ride nor wear shoes during the Muharram; and
a pious Musulmān will neither eat nor drink out of a silver or a gold
vessel.
“That person who shall drink out of a silver cup or cup of gold, you may
say drinks a draught of hell-fire.” Muhammud said, “Do not wear silk
clothes nor satin, nor drink out of gold or silver vessels, nor eat out
of golden dishes; because these are for the infidels in the world, and
for you in futurity.”
The lamps, which are made of ubruk (talc), or of the skeleton leaves of
the peepul-tree, and lighted up in the houses of the faithful at this
time, are beautifully made.
One day, on entering the verandah, my darzee (tailor), a Musulmān of
the Shea sect, was sitting on the ground, holding a ghirgit (the scaly
lizard, a sort of chameleon,) in one hand, while he beat it with a
twig, exclaiming with each stroke he gave the poor little beast, “Ever
to be accursed, and never sufficiently to be beaten!” The man was very
unwilling to give up his captive, or to desist from putting it to
torture; the creature was changing colour at every stroke. I made him
release it, and asked him why he had beaten and cursed it so vehemently?
The man replied, “Blessed be the spider! ever to be accursed, and never
sufficiently to be beaten be the ghirgit! When the Imām, on whom be
blessings, hid himself in a well from his pursuers, the spider weaved
his web across the mouth of the well, to hide him from his enemies; the
ghirgit,—the prying, inquisitive beast!—the ghirgit went to the well, he
peered over, he stretched his neck this way, he stretched his neck that
way (here he imitated the curious motion of the head natural to the
animal); the pursuers were attracted, they observed the ghirgit looking
over the well; they imitated his example, they discovered the Imām, they
murdered him! Ever to be accursed, never sufficiently to be beaten be the
ghirgit!”
Mohammud ordered a chameleon to be killed, and said, “it was a chameleon
which blew the fire into which Nimrod threw Abraham.” “Whoever shall
kill a chameleon at one stroke shall have one hundred good acts written
for him; and whoever kills one at two strokes shall have less than one
hundred good deeds written for him; and whoever shall kill one by three
strokes shall have less written for him than the second.”
His Highness forbade the killing of four animals, the ant (before
stinging), the bee, the woodpecker, the starling. It is criminal in
a Shea, and indeed with Soonees, to kill pigeons, though they are
recommended to eat them!
An alligator, seven feet in length, was caught in the Jumna, below our
house, a few days ago; I had it prepared with arsenical soap, stuffed,
and set out in the verandah, where it grins in hideous beauty, nailed
down upon the carpenter’s large table, where it will remain until it
stiffens into proper form.
My cabinet of curiosities and fondness of horrors ensured many a strange
present from absent friends. A small military party were dispatched to
capture a mud fort; on reaching the spot no enemy was to be discovered;
they entered with all due precaution against ambush; an enormous tiger in
a cage was the sole occupant. The tiger was sent down per boat to me,—the
first prize of the campaign; on my refusal to accept the animal, he was
forwarded to the accoutrement-maker of the officer, in Calcutta, in
liquidation of his account! The tiger was sold at length to an American
captain for 250 rupees, which just or very nearly paid the expenses of
boat-hire, servants, meat, &c., contracted on his the tiger’s account.
Such changes in his way of life must have puzzled his philosophy; the
capture, the Ganges, and sea voyage ending in North America, will give
him a queer idea of the best of all possible worlds; but he well deserves
it, being a cruel, treacherous, bloodthirsty brute.
My eccentric friend also wrote to say he had at length procured
for me an offering after my own heart, an enormous boa constrictor,
perfectly tame, so domestic and sweet tempered, that at meals it would
cross the room, displaying, as it advanced with undulating motion, its
bright-striped and spotted skin, until, having gained your chair, it
would coil its mazy folds around you, and tenderly putting its head over
your shoulder, eat from your hand!
I was greatly tempted to accept this unique offering. They tell us
mankind have a _natural_ antipathy to a snake; an antipathy I never
shared. I have killed them as venomous reptiles, but have a great fancy
for them as beautiful ones. No child dislikes snakes until it is taught
to fear them.
Those Indian fevers! the state to which a man is reduced may be gathered
by the following note: “I never could have believed that lowness of
temperament would have afflicted me with such mental suffering as the
doctor has just brought on me: I wander about in this beautiful clear air
and sunshine perfectly disgusted with life. Will the spring of my spirits
return? for they are just now in their December. When happy, I seldom
write to any one; when doleful, I become communicative. I hope you like
to hear from even your selfish friends, and I have not a soul with whom
to exchange an idea; consider that I am English, and may hang myself from
the pankhā! Man certainly is a gregarious animal, and I could wish just
now to be put into a large flock, even with the chance of being killed
off every Monday.”
“My only portion of the rose is the thorn[114].”
_June 1st._—I have scarcely energy enough to write; an easterly wind
renders the tattīs useless; the thermometer at 93°! The damp air renders
me so heavy and listless, it is an exertion either to eat or drink, and
it is almost impossible to sleep, on account of the heat. At 7 _P.M._
I take a drive through the burning air, and come in parched and faint,
eager for the only comfort during the twenty-four hours, a glass of
English home-made black-currant wine, well iced, in a tumbler of well
iced soda water; the greatest luxury imaginable.
I have not heard from home for six months, heart-sick with hope deferred.
These tardy ships! Will the steam communication ever be established?
“A merry heart doeth good like a medicine, but a broken spirit drieth the
bones.”
“I could lie down like a tired child,
And weep away this life of care,
Which I have borne, and still must bear.”
When shall I feel energy enough to mount my horse again? for three months
I have been unable to ride. Nothing is going forward, stupid as possible,
shut up all day, languid and weary: this India is a vile country!
“The heart knoweth its own sorrows, and no man interfereth with its joys.”
Woe is me that I sojourn in this land of pestilence, that I dwell afar
from the home of my fathers!
CHAPTER XXVII.
THE BRAHMANICAL THREAD.
The Janao—The Fakīr—The Fair—Pooja of the Cow—Cusa
Grass—The Flying Fox—Air Plants—Musk Deer—Nāg-panchamī—The
Snake—The Pinnace—City of Allahabad—The Pillar in the
Fort—Sealing-wax—Butea Frondosa—The Dewālī—The Bower—Climbers
and Creepers—The Humming Birds—The Pellet Bow—White
Ants—Chintz—The Horseradish Tree—The Ichneumon—The Garden—The
Bouquet—Cold Mornings for Hunting—The Moustache.
1834, _June_.—This morning I was on the sofa, fancying myself not quite
well, when Ram Din came in with a Brahmanical thread; as soon as I had
any thing to amuse me, all my illness vanished; the history thereof is
as follows:—The name in common use for what we call the sacred thread
is janao; it is not confined merely to Brahmans, for in the Veda called
Bhagavat, which relates to Krishnŭ, it is allowed to be worn by three
out of the four great tribes into which the Hindoos are divided. The
three privileged tribes are the Brahmans, the Chuttri or Rajpūt, and the
Khuttri or Vaisya. However, many others now wear the sacred thread who by
the Vedas have no right to do so. The janao must be made by the hands of
a Brahman; it is worn one month, and then either thrown into the Ganges,
or hung upon the sacred peepul-tree, when a fresh one is made. After six
years old, a boy may receive the janao, from which time he must observe
all the rules respecting eating and drinking, according to the custom of
his tribe.
The janao is composed of three threads, each measuring, as the Hindoos
say, four less than one hundred—that is, ninety-six—hāt: one hāt is the
length measured twice round the breadth of the hand, or one cubit. These
three threads are twisted together, and folded into three, then twisted
again, making it to consist of nine threads; these are again folded into
three, without twisting, and each end fastened with a knot.
It is put over the left shoulder next the skin, and hangs down the right
thigh as far as the fingers can reach; two of these threads are worn by a
Brahman. After a certain age, if a boy be not invested with the janao, he
becomes an outcast.
There are four great tribes amongst the Hindoos, which are subdivided
into _innumerable_ classes; in the second tribe there are, they say,
upwards of five hundred subdivisions!
1st tribe, Brahmans or priests; however, many Brahmans are not priests.
2nd tribe, Chuttri,—Rajpūts, Rajahs, and warriors.
3rd tribe, Vaisya or merchants,—artizans, cultivators, &c.
4th tribe, called Soodra,—mechanics, artizans, and labourers: the natural
duty of the Soodra is servitude.
Ram Din tells me he more especially worships Krishnŭ: he also makes pooja
to Radha, also to Rām; the former the love, the second the warrior god
and brother of Krishnŭ. On his forehead, as the mark of his worship, he
paints three perpendicular lines, the centre of white, the two others of
red clay. Ram Din is of the second tribe, a Rajpūt.
It is scarcely possible to write, the natives are making such a noise
overhead, repairing the flat roof of the house, which is made of
flag-stones, supported by large beams of wood; over that brick-dust and
lime, mixed with water, is laid a foot in depth, which they are now
beating down with little wooden mallets, holding one in each hand.
“The sight of a beggar is a request personified[115].” On the plain near
the fort, just before you come to the Mahratta Bund, a fakīr had taken
up his abode, where abode there was none. Ascetics of the orthodox sect,
in the last stage of exaltation, put aside clothing altogether. This
man’s only _garment_ was a chatr (an umbrella made of basket-work),
his long hair, matted with cow-dung and ashes, hung in stiff, straight
locks nearly to his waist; his body was smeared all over with ashes; he
was always on the same spot, sitting doubled up on the ground, and when
suffering from illness, a bit of tattered blanket was thrown over his
shoulders.
Night and day the fakīr was to be seen, a solitary wretched being,
scarcely human in appearance. The passers-by threw cowries and grains of
boiled rice to him; sometimes a woman would come and kindle a few bits of
charcoal, and then quit him; the hot winds, the rains, the bitter frosty
nights of the cold weather, were unheeded; nothing appeared to disturb
the devotee. Was his frame insensible to the power of the elements? When
I first saw him he had occupied that spot for twelve years, and I know
he never quitted it for five years afterwards, until he was consigned to
the Ganges on his decease. One night, some thieves demanded rupees of
the holy man; he pleaded poverty. “I have killed such a poor man as you,
and have got nine mŭns of fat out of him[116],” said one of the fellows.
They beat and tortured the poor wretch until he revealed his secret
hoards: he showed them a spot on the plain; they dug up some ghāras
(coarse earthen vessels), which contained two thousand rupees! Content
with their plunder, they quitted the holy man. The next morning he went
to the General Commandant of the garrison, and told his tale, ending by
producing seven hundred rupees, which the thieves had not discovered,
and requesting the General to place it in security for him! His request
having been granted, the fakīr returned to the plain, where he and his
chatr remained until his spirit was summoned to the presence of Yamu, the
judge of the dead. The police did not molest him in the out-of-the-way
spot he had chosen for his retreat; they would not have allowed him to
roam about the station.
Speaking of this fakīr reminds me I forgot to mention, that, when I
visited the fair early in February last, I rode there before sunrise, and
was greatly amused. Hundreds of Hindoos were undergoing penance, not for
their sins, but for copper coins; some were lying on their backs upon
thorns, each with a child upon his breast, asking charity; one man was
standing upon one leg, in meditation; he began his penance at sunrise,
and ended it at sunset.
We rode down to the water’s edge, and saw the Hindoos doing pooja to
living cows. One man, the shawl over whose shoulders was tied to the end
of the chādar, worn over the head by a woman, came to a cow, the woman
following him; he took hold of the cow’s tail in his hand, holding in
it at the same time the sacred cusa-grass; the woman did the same; the
Brahman muttered a prayer, which the man repeated; he then, followed by
the woman, walked round the cow many times turning to the left, which
having done a certain number of times, he whispered into the cow’s right
ear; the woman came to the same ear, and also whispered to the cow; which
ceremony being accomplished, they were sent into the river to bathe at
the junction. The rites I witnessed, are, I believe, a portion of the
marriage ceremonies of the Hindūs. The cusa-grass is the poa cynosurides;
almost every poem in Sanscrit contains allusions to the holiness of this
grass. Some of the leaves taper to a most acute point; it is an Hindoo
saying, speaking of a very sharp-minded man, “his intellects are as acute
as the point of a cusa leaf.”
Some of the marble images at the fair were very fine ones; the price
demanded was three hundred rupees, or £30 a-piece.
I received a present this morning of a flying fox, an enormous bat with
leathern wings; I had previously thought such creatures were mere fables;
the one presented to me is a prepared specimen. The next day, I sent
some sipahīs to shoot flying foxes; they found a number in a large tree,
and killed two of them; they are such savage, but intelligent-looking
animals, curious and wonderful, but disgusting creatures.
During the cold weather I gathered a handful of a very sweet-smelling
air-plant on the Mahratta Bund; taking it home, I threw it on the top of
a biar-tree (zizyphus jujuba) to see if it would really grow in the air;
it died away, as I thought, and I forgot it; the other day, by chance,
glancing at the biar-tree, I saw my air-plant in high beauty, covering
about two yards of the top of the tree, and hanging in long light green
strings, like sea-weed, down towards the ground. The natives call it
amur bel, the undying climber, and ākās bel, air creeper; the flowers
are white, small, bell-shaped, and five-cleft; the plant leafless; the
running stalks greenish yellow, shining, and spreading over the top of
a tree like a sheet thrown over it; the scent very fragrant. The ākās
nīm is a parasite, growing on nīm-trees: the ākās pussun is the cuscuta
reflexa, dodder, or air-plant.
Last month we were unlucky in the farm-yard; forty-seven fat sheep and
well-fatted lambs died of small-pox; a very great loss, as to fatten
sheep on gram for two or three years makes them very expensive; it is
remarkable that none of the goats, although living in the same house,
were attacked.
This morning three musk-deer, prepared and stuffed, were shown to me;
they are a present for Runjeet Singh, and are now _en route_ from Nepal.
The men had also a number of musk-bags for the Lion of the Punjab.
The hair of the musk-deer is curious stuff, like hog’s bristles; and
their two tusks are like those of the walrus. Buffon gives an admirable
description of this animal. Some time ago a musk-bag was given me as a
curiosity; the scent is extremely powerful. The musk-deer is rare and
very valuable.
_Aug. 9th._—This is a holiday, the nāg-panchamī, on which day the Hindūs
worship a snake, to procure blessings on their children; of course,
none of the carpenters or the other workmen have made their appearance.
The other day, a gentleman, who is staying with us, went into his
bathing-room to take a bath; the evening was very dark, and, as he lifted
a ghāra (an earthen vessel), to pour the water over his head, he heard a
hissing sound among the waterpots, and, calling for a light, saw a great
cobra de capello. “Look at that snake!” said he to his bearer, in a tone
of surprise. “Yes, sāhib,” replied the Hindoo, with the utmost apathy,
“he has been there a great many days, and gives us much trouble!”
_Sept. 11th._—We purchased a very fine pinnace, that an officer had
brought up the river, and named her the Seagull. She is as large as a
very good yacht; it will be pleasant to visit those ghāts on the Ganges
and Jumna, during the cold weather, that are under the sāhib’s control.
The vessel is a fine one, and the natives say, “She goes before the wind
like an arrow from a bow.”
The city of Allahabad, considered as a native one, is handsome: there
are but few pukka houses. The rich merchants in the East make no
display, and generally live under bamboo and straw. The roads through
the city are very good, with rows of fine trees on each side; the drives
around are numerous and excellent. There is also a very handsome sarā’e
(caravansary), and a bā’olī, a large well, worthy a visit. The tomb and
garden of Sultan Khusrau are fine; a description of them will be given
hereafter. The fort was built by Akbar in 1581, at the junction of
the Ganges and Jumna. Within the fort, near the principal gateway, an
enormous pillar is prostrate; the unknown characters inscribed upon it
are a marvel and a mystery to the learned, who as yet have been unable to
translate them. The bazār at Allahabad is famous for old coins.
Having been requested to contribute to a fancy fair for charitable
purposes, I had some sealing-wax made in the verandah, under my own eye;
the lākh was brought to me in little cakes from the bazār, enclosed in
leaves of the palās or dhāk (butea frondosa), fastened together with
wooden pins like long thorns. Many articles are wrapped up in this way
in lieu of using paper; and packets of the leaves freshly gathered are
to be seen in the shops ready for use. The lākh is the produce of an
insect (chermes lacca), in which its eggs are deposited; it is found on
the dhāk, the peepul, the banyan, and the biar, as well as on several
other trees. The wood and leaves of the dhāk are used in religious
ceremonies; the bark is given with ginger in snake bites, and the calyx
of the fruit is made into jelly, which has a pleasant acid taste. When
the bark is wounded a red juice issues, which soon hardens into a
ruby-coloured, brittle, astringent gum; a solution of it in water is of
a deep red colour; the addition of a little sal martis changes it into a
good durable ink. An infusion of the flowers dyes cotton, which has been
steeped previously in a solution of alum, a beautiful bright yellow;
a little alkali added changes it to a deep reddish orange. The flowers
are papilionaceous, of a deep red, shaded orange and silver, and very
numerous. Another species, a large twining shrub, is the butea superba.
The leaves are large and fine, and give beautiful impressions when taken
off with the preparation of lamp-black and oil. The Chupra lākh is the
best for sealing-wax, to which we merely added the colouring. It is very
hard and brittle, and will not melt with the heat of the climate. The
seal of a letter, stamped on English wax, in which there is always a
large portion of resin, often arrives merely one lump of wax, the crest,
or whatever impression may have been on the seal, totally obliterated;
and the adhering of one seal to another _en route_ is often the cause
that letters are torn open ere they reach their destination.
Ainslie mentions, “Scarlet was, till of late years, produced exclusively
with the colouring matter of the cochineal insect; but it would appear
that a more beautiful and lasting colour can be obtained by using the
lākh insect.”
_Oct. 7th._—Yesterday being the Hindoo festival of the Dewalī, a great
illumination was made for my amusement; our house, the gardens, the
well, the pinnace on the river below the bank of the garden, the old
peepul-tree, and my bower, were lighted up with hundreds of little lamps.
My bower on the banks of the Jumna-jee, which is quite as beautiful as
the “bower of roses by Bendameer’s stream,” must be described.
It was canopied by the most luxuriant creepers and climbers of all sorts.
The ishk-pechā, the “Twinings of Love[117],” overspread it in profusion;
as the slender stems catch upon each other, and twine over an arbour,
the leaves, falling back, lie over one another _en masse_, spreading
over a broad surface in the manner in which the feathers of the tail of
a peacock spread over one another, and trail upon the ground; the ruby
red and starlike flowers start from amidst the rich green of its delicate
leaves as bright as sunshine. This climber, the most beautiful and
luxuriant imaginable, bears also the name of kamalāta, “Love’s Creeper.”
Some have flowers of snowy hue, with a delicate fragrance; and one,
breathing after sunset, the odour of cloves!
The doodēya[118], so called because it gives forth a milky juice, also
denominated chābuk churree, from the resemblance of its long slender
shoots to a whip, displayed over the bower its beautiful and bell-shaped
flowers; it also bears the name of swallow-wort, from the fancied
resemblance of its seed-vessels to a swallow flying.
In wondrous profusion, the gāo-pāt, the elephant climber, spread its
enormous leaves over the bower; the under part of the leaf is white, and
soft as velvet; the natives say it is like the tongue of a cow, whence it
derives its name gāo-pāt[119]. In the early morning, or at sunset, it was
delightful to watch the humming-birds as they fluttered over and dived
into its bell-shaped flowers, seeking nectar; or to see them glancing
over the crimson stars of the ishk-pechā. The bower was the favourite
resort of the most beautiful butterflies,—those insect queens of Eastern
Spring,—not only for the sake of the climbers, but for the blossoms of
the Lucerne grass that grew around the spot. Observing one day there were
but few butterflies, I asked the reason of the jāmadār? he replied, “The
want of rain has killed the flowers, and the death of the flowers has
killed the butterflies.”
From the topmost branches of the surrounding trees, the moon-flower[120]
hung its chaste and delicate blossoms, drooping and apparently withered;
but as the night came on they raised their languid heads, and bloomed in
beauty.
“The Nymphæa[121] dwells in the water, and the moon in the sky, but he
that resides in the heart of another is always present with him[122].”
The Nymphæa expands its flowers in the night, and thence is feigned to
be in love with the moon. The water-lily as it floats on the stream,
luxuriating in the warmth of the moonbeams, has a powerful rival in the
burā luta, the beautiful moon-flower, whose luxuriant blossoms of snowy
whiteness expand during the night.
The sorrowful nyctanthes, the harsingahar, is it not also a lover of the
moon, its flowers expanding, and pouring forth fragrance only in the
night? Gay and beautiful climber, whence your name of arbor tristis? Is
it because you blossom but to die? With the first beams of the rising sun
your night flowers are shed upon the earth to wither and decay.
The flowers of the harsingahar, which are luxuriously abundant, are
collected by perfumers and dyers; the orange-coloured stem of the white
corolla is the part used by the latter. The flowers are sold in the
bazār, at one and a half or two rupees the sēr. It is one of the most
beautiful climbers I have seen.
My humming-birds were sacred; no one dared molest them, not even a rover
with a pellet-bow was allowed a shot at my favourites.
Speaking of a pellet-bow, I have seen small birds and butterflies shot
with it. One day a gentleman, seeing a pigeon flying across the garden,
just above my spaniel’s head, brought it down with a pellet. The dog
looked up, opened his mouth, and caught the stunned bird as it fell
upon him. Ever afterwards, he was constantly in the garden watching the
pigeons with his mouth wide open, expecting they also would fall into it!
The bower, which was supported on bamboo posts, was constantly falling in
from the havoc occasioned by the white ants. I sent for a hackery (cart)
load of the flower-stems of the aloe, and substituted the stems for the
bamboos: in consequence, the white ants gave up the work of destruction,
having an antipathy to the bitterness of the aloe. It is said the aloe
flowers only once in a century; what may be its vagaries in a colder
climate I know not; the hedges here are full of the plant, which flowers
annually.
I wish I had tried the teeth of the white ants by putting up pillars
of stone. An orthodox method of killing these little underminers is by
strewing sugar on the places frequented by them: the large black ants,
the sworn enemies of the white ants, being attracted by the sugar,
quickly appear, and destroy the white ones. The white ants are sappers
and miners; they will come up through the floor into the foot of a
wardrobe, make their way through the centre of it into the drawers, and
feast on the contents. I once opened a wardrobe which had been filled
with tablecloths and napkins: no outward sign of mischief was there;
but the linen was one mass of dirt, and utterly destroyed. The most
remarkable thing is, the little beasts always move under cover, and form
for themselves a hollow way, through which they move unseen, and do
their work of destruction at leisure. The hollow way they form is not
unlike pipe maccaroni in size, and its colour is that of mud. I never
saw them in Calcutta; up the country they are a perfect nuisance. The
queen ant is a curious creature; one was shown me that had been dug out
of an ants’ nest: it was nearly four inches long by two in width, and
looked something like a bit of blubber. The white ants are the vilest
little animals on the face of the earth; they eat their way through
walls, through beams of wood, and are most marvellously troublesome. They
attack the roots of trees and plants, and kill them in a day or two. To
drive them away it is advisable to have the plants watered with hing
(assafœtida) steeped in water. If a box be allowed to stand a week upon
the floor without being moved, it is likely at the end of that time, when
you take it up, the bottom may fall out, destroyed by the white ants.
Carpets, mats, chintz, such as we put on the floors, all share, more or
less, the same fate. I never saw a white ant until I came to India. They
resemble the little white maggots in a cheese, with a black dot for a
head, and a pair of pincers fixed upon it.
The Calcutta matting is little used for rooms in the Upper Provinces, as
it is soon destroyed by the ants; in lieu thereof, gaily-coloured chintz,
manufactured by the natives after the patterns of Brussels carpets, is
put down in the rooms, and gives them a handsome appearance, but it is
not so cool as the matting. A cloth (called sallam), dyed with indigo,
ought to be put down under the chintz to keep off the white ants, which
dislike the smell of the indigo.
The following passage, showing the ideas of the Muhammadans respecting
ants, is remarkable:—
“An ant bit a prophet, and he ordered the ant-hill to be burnt, which
was done. Then God sent a voice to the prophet, saying, ‘Have you burnt,
on account of one biting you, a whole multitude of those that remembered
God, and repeated his name?’”
By the side of the bower are two trees, the roots of which, dug up and
scraped, have exactly the appearance and taste of horseradish, and are
used on table for the same purpose. The tree grows very quickly; the
flowers are elegant, but the wood is only useful for dying a blue colour:
the sahjana, hyperanthera moringa, horseradish-tree.
The ichneumons, mungūs, or newalā, were numerous in the garden, lurking
in the water-courses; they committed much havoc occasionally in the
poultry-yard. A mungūs and a snake will often have a battle royal; if the
mungūs be bitten, he will run off, eat a particular plant, and return to
the charge. He is generally the conqueror. Never having seen this, I will
not vouch for the fact; the natives declare it to be true. The name of
the plant has escaped my memory. The newalā may be easily tamed if caught
young: I never attempted to keep one in the house, on account of the
dogs. The moon-flower is supposed to have virtue in snake bites. I know
of no remedy but eau-de-luce applied internally and externally.
I must not quit the garden without mentioning my favourite plants. The
kulga, amaranthus tricolor, a most beautiful species of sāg, bearing at
the top a head or cluster of leaves of three colours, red, yellow, and
green, which have the appearance of the flower: it is very ornamental,
and used as spinach (sāg). If the head be broken off, similar clusters
form below.
There is another plant, amaranthus gangeticus (lal sāg), or red spinach,
which is most excellent; when on table its ruby colour is beautiful, and
its agreeable acidity renders it preferable to any other kind of spinach.
The koonch, or goonja (abrus precatorius), is an elegant little plant,
of which there is only one species; the seeds, which are smooth, hard,
and of a glowing scarlet colour, form the retti weight of the Hindostanī
bazārs. The seeds are strung and worn as beads for ornament, and also as
rosaries, hence the specific name precatorius.
The rāmturáī, or binda (hibiscus longifolius), adorned the kitchen
garden; its corolla is of a beautiful sulphur colour, the interior
purple. The pods, when plain boiled, and eaten when quite hot, are
excellent; the French use them in soups, and pickle them as capers.
Perhaps a touch of superstition induced me to be careful of a very fine
specimen of the salvia Bengalensis, which grew near the bower; or perhaps
the well-known verse,
“Cur moriatur homo, cui salvia crescit in horto?”
showing the estimation in which it was held in former days, contributed
to the care with which it was preserved. The gardener calls it sistee,
perhaps a corruption of sage; and on account of the strong scent of
its leaves, it is also called (velāitie kāfūr-ke-pāt), the leaf of the
English camphor.
I had a curious plant, which I was told was an air-plant; the natives
called it pēr-pāt, or rus-putta: if a leaf dropped on the ground, a
little root would strike out on each side of it, and thus a fresh plant
would be formed. I buried several leaves, and they took root in that
manner. The botanical name of the plant is unknown to me.
The hibiscus mutabilis flourished in great perfection: the flowers of
this rose hibiscus change their hue in the course of a few hours.
The lajwantee, the sensitive plant, grew in profusion, covered with its
tuft-like blossoms, and shrinking from the touch. Near it were some
very fine specimens of Bourbon cotton, which flourished admirably; this
gossypium differs from the herbaceum, because the down which lines the
capsules which contain the seeds is of a brown colour, whereas the down
of the common cotton plant, grown in the fields in India, is beautifully
white.
A small quantity of the bhuta (zea mays) was in the garden: when the corn
had formed, just before it hardened, whilst it was soft, and green, and
milky, it was brought to table fried until brown, and eaten with pepper
and salt; a most excellent vegetable. It is called common Indian corn;
but it appears to me it was very little used for making bread in the
Up Country, as I never saw any thing generally used but wheat for the
unleavened cakes, which constitute the bread of the natives.
We have the burā shim (dolichus), horse-eye bean; the pods are cut and
dressed like French beans, but are inferior; the bean itself is large.
The rut aloe (dioscorea sativa) was not only a most useful vegetable when
potatoes were losing their excellence, but the beautiful leaves of this
climber were in themselves an ornament. The roots grow to a great size;
those the most valued for culinary purposes are a much smaller sort,
which, when broken, are perfectly white and milk-like in appearance.
Perhaps one of the best things in the garden was the patūā, the Indian
hibiscus; the corolla is sulphur-coloured and reddish purple; the fruit,
of a bright red colour, is excellent in tarts; and when made into a
jelly, has something of the appearance and taste of fresh damson cheese;
but the patūā jelly is transparent, and its hue brilliant. In the West
Indies it is called red sorrel. The bark of the hibiscus cannabinus
(hemp-leaved hibiscus), as well as that of the sabdariffa is made into
cordage.
Tambācu, Virginian tobacco (nicotiana tabacum), also flourished with
us; but that for the hooqŭ was usually procured from Chunar, a place
celebrated for the excellence of its tobacco.
Every morning it is the custom of the Mālee (gardener) to appear at
breakfast time to present a dālī (a basket of vegetables) and a bouquet
of flowers. Amongst the latter many were novelties to an European.
The āgāst (æschynomene grandiflora) was remarkable; the corolla of a
most brilliant rose colour; but on some of the trees the flowers were
white.
The amultas (cassia fistula) was there, with its long, beautiful,
pendant, yellow, and fragrant flowers. The tree is sometimes fifty feet
in height, and remarkable for the fruit, which is a brownish-coloured
pod, about the thickness of a thumb, and some two feet or more in length;
it is divided into numerous cells, upwards of forty, each containing
one smooth, oval, shining seed. This pod is called by the natives
“Bunda-ke-lāt,” the monkey’s staff; the seeds are used medicinally, and
the pods are for sale in every bazār.
One of the most beautiful of shrubs is the gooltura or gooliturah
(Poinciana pulcherrima), _fleur de Paradis_; from the extreme beauty of
this flower Burmann gave it the appellation of “crista pavonis flore
elegantissimo variegato.”
The pomegranate-tree, anār (punica granatum), was abundant; the following
description gives a perfect idea of it:—
“The finest fruit is brought from Persia and Cabul: there are two sorts,
the sweet and acid pomegranate. Sherbet is made with the fruit; the tree
is singularly beautiful, and much cultivated in India. The leaves are
of a rich dark green, very glossy, and the tree is adorned at the same
time with every variety of bud, bloom, and fruit, in the several stages
of vegetation, from the first bud to the ripe fruit in rich luxuriance,
and this in succession nearly throughout the year. The bright scarlet
colour of the buds and blossoms, which seldom varies in its shade,
contrasts beautifully with the glossy dark green of the foliage. There
is a medicinal benefit to be derived from every part of this tree, from
the root upwards, even to the falling blossoms, which are carefully
collected. The rind of the fruit is dried and sold as a medicine, and
each part of this tree possesses a distinct medicinal property. The
pomegranate was introduced into India from Persia.” As a medicine, a
decoction of the roots, or of the rind, was of great use in the farm-yard
and in the kennel.
Sometimes a small specimen of the kȳá-pootie-tree was brought to me
(melaleuca kȳá-pootie). I regarded it with interest on account of its
fragrant oil. There are three varieties of this tree: from the leaf of
the smaller, by distillation, the fragrant essential oil is obtained,
called by the ignorant cajeput. Mr. Crawford observes in his History of
the Indian Archipelago: “The kȳá’-pootie-trees are gigantic myrtles;
the largest sort is a mountain tree, and grows in extensive continuous
forests. The smaller, which yields the oil, thrives near the sea-coast,
and has got its name from its colour, kāyu-puti, which signifies _white
wood_, and hence its appellation arbor alba.” The oil is distilled from
leaves which have been previously infused in water and left to ferment
for a night. The oil I procured in India was limpid, transparent, and of
a brilliant emerald green, extremely powerful, and the scent delicious;
the bruised leaves also emit a powerful odour.
“The mistress of the night,” the polyanthes tuberosa, was in profusion in
the garden. It is used in pooja: the natives call it gōl-shub-boo, from
shub, night; and boo, scent; because it gives forth its odours during the
night.
The kudum (nauclea orientalis) is one of the holiest trees in the opinion
of the Hindoos. The flowers have an odour very agreeable in the open air,
which the ancient Indians compared to the scent of new wine; and hence
they call the plant Halyprya, or beloved of Halim; that is, by the third
Ráma, who was the Bacchus of India. The corolla of the kudum-tree is of
a pale yellow, and very fragrant; the flowers are borne in round heads,
perfectly globular, and covered uniformly with gold-coloured florets. One
species, nauclea gambir, is said to yield the gamboge gum of the bazār.
Of all the flowers brought to me, the perfume of the ketgi, keura, or
keora (pandanus odoratissimus), was the most overpowering. From the
flower of this green-spined screw-tree, arrak and atr are made: the tough
fibres of the roots are used by basket-makers, and the roots themselves
are used by the Malays as cords. The flowers of the male plant yield the
most overpowering fragrance, which is esteemed very highly by the natives.
An atr is also prepared from the mulsari or múlasrí (mimosops elengi).
Children eat the fruit of this tree: the flowers are agreeably fragrant
in the open air, but the perfume is too strong for an apartment. In the
Puranas this tree is called bacula, and placed amongst the flowers of the
Hindoo Paradise.
Another remarkable plant was the martynia proboscidea, horn-capsuled
martynia, called by the natives the insect seed, from the resemblance
of the capsule to a horned beetle, if there be a beetle with two curled
horns.
_Oct._—I have just returned from taking a sketch of the Circuit bungalow;
it reminds me of very many pleasant mornings, although to an English
ear it may not give an idea of pleasure to rise at three A.M., to take
coffee by candlelight, or by the light of the mist in the verandah!—The
buggy waiting, the lamps lighted, and the horse covered with a blanket,
to keep him from taking a chill.—A drab coat with many capes, a shawl
beneath, and another round the neck, a drive of two or three miles by
lamp-light. Just as you come up to the dogs, a gentleman comes forward
to assist the mem sāhiba from the buggy, saying, “Very cold! very cold!
one could not be more delightfully cold in England—half-frozen!” Those
fine dogs, Jānpeter, Racer, Merrylass, and the rest of them emerge from
the palanquin carriage in which they have been brought to Papamhow, much
tamāshā! many jackals! Then the canter through the plantations of Urrah,
wet with dew—dew so heavy that the sā’īs wrings out the skirt of the mem
sāhiba’s habit; nevertheless, the lady and the black pony are very happy.
Master General carries his rider in most _jemmy_ style; a gallant grey by
his side takes beautiful leaps, and the mem sāhiba and her black horse
scramble up and down ravines, over which the others leap, and by little
_détours_ and knowledge of the country, find much amusement in the course
of the morning.
All natives, from the highest to the lowest, sport the moustache, and
pride themselves upon its blackness. My old khānsāmān, Suddu Khan, whose
hair, beard, and moustache were perfectly white, came before me one
morning, and making sālām, requested me to allow him some hours’ leave of
absence to dye his hair. In the evening he was in attendance at table;
his hair, beard, and moustache in the most perfect order, and jet black!
The 16th Lancers, on their arrival in India, wore no moustache; after the
lapse of many years, the order that allowed them the decoration arrived
in India, and was hailed with delight by the whole corps. The natives
regarded them with much greater respect in consequence, and the young
dandies of Delhi could no longer twirl their moustachoes, and think
themselves finer fellows than the Lancers. As a warlike appendage it was
absolutely necessary; a man without moustachoes being reckoned nā-mard,
unmanly. Having been often consulted on the important subject of the
best dye, I subjoin a recipe which was given me in the Zenāna[123]. A
dandified native generally travels with a handkerchief bound under his
chin, and tied on the top of his turban, that the beauty and precision of
his beard may not be disarranged on the journey.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
PILGRIMAGE TO THE TĀJ.
“RESOLUTION OVERCOMES GREAT DIFFICULTIES[124].”
“You will require the patience of an angel, or of a whole heaven of
angels, to reach Agra in a pinnace. I was a month in a boat that I built
for the very purpose of threading this Meander, to which that of Troy
was a nālā, as straight as an arrow. I fear your voyage will be much
protracted, but as for the wind, you are sure to have it favourable two
or three times a day, let it blow from what quarter it will, for you
will have your course during the twenty-four hours to every point of the
compass, and these cold days too! Here am I shivering in the warmest room
in my house!”
W. L. G⸺, Khasgunge.
The Seagull—The Patelī—Chapātīs—Sujawan Deota—Burriaree
Rocks—Thieves—Parbosa—Temple of Parisnāth—Darogahs—Utility
of a Pellet-bow—The Cane River—The Leak—A
Storm—Kalpee—Belaspoor—Alligators in their own
Wildernesses—River Shells—Passage through the Rocks—A
Pilot—Badowra—Fossil-bones—The Chumbal River—Bhurrage—Burning
the Dead—A Woman drowned—Cutting through a Sandbank on a Chain
Cable—A Leak—White Ants—Picturesque Scenes—A Tufān—The Mem
Sāhiba’s Speech—River Dogs—Presents of Sweetmeats.
_Dec. 1834._—To look forward to the cold season is always a great
pleasure in India; and to plan some expedition for that period is an
amusement during the hot winds and rains. We had often determined to
visit the Tāj Mahul at Agra—the wonder of the world.
Our beautiful pinnace was now in the Jumna, anchored just below the
house, but the height of the banks and the lowness of the river only
allowed us to see the top of her masts. My husband proposed that I should
go up the Jumna in her, as far as Agra, and anchor off the Tāj; and
promised, if he could get leave of absence, to join me there, to view
all that is so well worth seeing at that remarkable place. Accordingly,
the pinnace was prepared for the voyage, and a patelī was procured as a
cook-boat. Books, drawing materials, and every thing that could render a
voyage up the river agreeable, were put on board.
_Dec. 9th._—I quitted Prāg: the Seagull spread her sails to the breeze,
and, in spite of the power of the stream, we made good way against it:
at night we _lugāoed_ off Phoolpoor, _i.e._ made fast to the bank, as is
always the custom, the river not being navigable during the darkness.
_10th._—Saw the first crocodile to-day basking on a sandbank; a great
long-nosed fellow, a very Indian looking personage, of whom I felt the
greatest fear, as at the moment my little terrier Fury, who was running
on the shore with the dāndees, seeing me on deck, swam off to the
pinnace. I was much pleased when a dāndee caught her in his arms and put
her on the cook-boat.
On the commencement of a voyage the men adorn the bows of the vessel with
hārs, (chaplets of fresh flowers,) and ask for money: on days of pooja,
and at the end of the voyage, the same ceremony is repeated, and half-way
on the voyage they usually petition for a present, a few rupees for good
luck.
I must describe the Seagull:—She was built in Calcutta to go to
Chittagong, and has a deep keel, therefore unfit for river work, unless
during the rains: two-masted, copper-bottomed, and brig-rigged. She
requires water up to a man’s waist; her crew consist of twenty-two men,
one sarang, who commands her, four khalāsīs, who hold the next rank,
one gal’haiya, forecastle man (from galahi, a forecastle), fourteen
dāndees, one cook and his mate, all Musalmāns; total twenty-two. The
crew, particularly good men, came from Calcutta with the pinnace; they
cook their own food and eat and sleep on board. My food and that of my
servants is prepared in the cook-boat. The food of the dāndees usually
consists of curry and rice, or thin cakes of flour (unleavened bread)
called chapātīs: the latter they bake on a tawā (iron plate) over
the fire, on the bank, and eat whilst hot. It is amusing to see how
dexterously they pat these cakes into form, between both hands, chucking
them each time into the air: they are usually half an inch in thickness,
and the size of a dessert plate.
When these common chapātīs are made thin, and allowed to blow out on the
fire until they are perfectly hollow, they are delicious food, if eaten
quite hot. Thus made they are much better than those generally put on the
table of the sāhib loge (gentry), which are made of fine flower and milk.
Being unable to find a boat for hire that would answer as a cook-boat,
the jamadār purchased a patelī, a small boat built after the fashion of
a large flat-bottomed patailā, for which he gave eighty rupees; and we
proceeded to fit it up, by building a large house upon it of mats and
bamboo, thickly thatched with straw. This house was for the cook, the
servants, and the farm-yard. On the top of it was a platform of bamboos,
on which the dāndees (sailors) could live and sleep. The crew consisted
of seven men, Hindoos; therefore they always cooked their food on shore
in the evening, it being contrary to the rules of their religion to eat
on board. The sheep, goats, fowls, provisions, wine, &c. were all in the
cook-boat, and a space was divided off for the dhobee (washerman). The
number of servants it is necessary to take with one on a river voyage in
India is marvellous. We had also a little boat called a dinghee, which
was towed astern the pinnace.
This morning we passed Sujawan Deota, a rock rising out of the river,
crowned with a temple, a remarkably picturesque spot, and adorned with
trees. A pinnace is towed by one thick towing line, called a goon,
carried by ten men. Native boats containing merchandize are generally
towed by small lines, each man having his own line to himself. The wind
having become contrary, the men were obliged to tow her; the goon broke,
the vessel swerved round, and was carried some distance down the stream;
however, she was brought up without damage, and we moored off Sehoree.
_11th._—In passing the Burriaree rocks I felt a strange sort of anxious
delight in the danger of the passage, there being only room for one
vessel to pass through. The serang, a Calcutta man, had never been up the
Jumna; and as we cut through the narrow pass I stood on deck watching
ahead for a sunken rock. Had there been too little water, with what a
crash we should have gone on the rocks! The river is full of them; they
show their black heads a foot or two above the stream that rushes down
fiercely around or over them: just now we ran directly upon one. The
vessel swerved right round, but was brought up again soon after.
We track or sail from 6 A.M., and moor the boats at 7 P.M. On anchoring
off Deeya I received two matchlocks, sent to me by my husband, on account
of his having heard that many salt-boats on the Jumna have been plundered
lately; the matchlocks are to be fired off of an evening when the watch
is set, to show we are on our guard. At night a chaprāsī and two dāndees
hold their watch, armed, on deck; and two chaukidārs (watchmen) from the
nearest village keep watch on shore. My little fine-eared terrier is on
board, and I sleep without a thought of robbery or danger. If you take a
guard from the nearest village, you are pretty safe; if not, perhaps the
chaukidārs themselves will rob you, in revenge for your not employing
them.
PARISNĀTH.
_12th._—The passage off Mhow was difficult,—rocks and sands. We were on
a sandbank several times. The temple of Parisnāth at Pabosa was to me a
very interesting object. At Allahabad I procured a small white marble
image of this god, and while considering whom it might represent, the
moonshee came into the room. The man is a high-church Hindoo: on seeing
the image, he instantly covered his eyes and turned away, expressing his
disapprobation. “That is the idol Parisnāth,” said he, “a man of the pure
faith may not look upon it, and will not worship in a temple desecrated
by its presence.” There are about four hundred heretical Hindoos at Prāg.
The image is represented in a sitting posture, not unlike the attitude
of the Budha idol of Ava, but from which it differs in the position of
the right hand.
Colonel Tod says, “The 23rd of the Jain Apostles was Parswanáth—Parswa
the god. There is a column in Cheetore dedicated to Parswanáth, Budhist,
or Jain.”
I imagine the white marble images in my possession are the same as those
mentioned in the “Annals and Antiquities of Rajah’stan.” I have before
given, in p. 214, an account of the disturbance occasioned at Allahabad
from an attempt made by a man to place an image of Parisnāth in the
Achibut chamber. Moored the pinnace off Surawal.
_13th._—Aground off Kuttree, again off Shahpoor, and, for the third time,
off Jumnapoor: lugāoed off Mowhie.
_13th._—Aground on a sunken rock off Toolseepoor, again off Dampour.
During the rains the river is deep; but at this time of the year it is
late to undertake a voyage to Agra, and I think it not impossible it may
be impracticable to take the pinnace so far up the river. Nevertheless,
we have come on very well, with occasional difficulties, such as going
over sunken rocks at times, bump, bump, under the vessel. I have felt
half afraid of seeing their black heads through the floor of the cabin.
We have grounded on sandbanks four and five times a day in avoiding the
rocks. The Jumna is full of them, and the navigation dangerous on that
account. The contrary wind has generally obliged us to track, as our
course lies right in the teeth of the west wind, which is strong, and
generally blows pretty steadily at this time of the year. There is one
consolation, the river winds and twists so much, the wind must be fair
somewhere or other.
Every twelve miles a dārogha comes on board to make salām to the mem
sāhiba, and to ask her orders. I send letters to Prāg by this means; the
dārogha gives them to our own chaprāsīs, who run with them from station
to station. There is no dāk (post) in these parts. The dāroghas bring
fish, eggs, kids, any thing of which I am in need; and I pay for them,
although they are brought as presents, it being against the orders of
Government to receive the gift even of a cabbage or beet-root from a
native. The tracking ground was fine; moored off Bhowna.
_15th._—Strong west wind, very cold: the river broad and deep; the
thermometer at 9 A.M. 60°. The darzee in the after-cabin is at work
on a silk gown: the weather is just cold enough to render warm attire
necessary. The other day I was on deck in a green velvet travelling
cap, with an Indian shawl, put on after the fashion of the men, amusing
myself with firing with a pellet-bow at some cotton boats _en passant_
for tamāshā. Some natives came on board to make salām, and looked much
surprised at seeing a ghulel (a pellet-bow) in feminine hands. The cotton
boats would not get out of the way, therefore I pelted the manjhīs,
(masters, or steersmen) of the vessels, to hasten the movements of the
great unwieldy lubberly craft. Of whom can I talk but of myself in this
my solitude on the Jumna-jee? Now for the telescope to look out for the
picturesque.
_17th._—Wind strong, cold, and westerly: the stream broad and deep,
anchored off Jerowlee in a jungle: just the place for a sportsman. A
quantity of underwood and small trees amongst the ravines and cliffs
afford shelter for the game. Here you find nil-gā’ī, peacocks, partridge,
and quail. Several peacocks were quietly feeding on the cliffs; others
roosting on the trees. At this place they told me there is a bura kund,
which is, I believe, a well, or spring, or basin of water, especially
consecrated to some holy purpose or person; but I did not visit the spot.
_20th._—Passed Chilla Tara Ghāt and the Cane River, in which agates,
cornelians, calcedony, &c., are found. The day was pleasant, the water
deep, but there being but little wind we were obliged to track. Moored
off Arouwl, at which place the patelī got upon the rocks.
_21st._—A strong east wind: we had a fine sail, but went aground off
Bindour: moored at Serowlee.
_22nd._—After a very pleasant day, and pretty good sailing, we lugāoed
off Humeerpore: during the night we were kept on the _qui vive_ by a very
severe storm, accompanied by thunder, lightning, and very heavy rain.
_23rd._—A wretched day; cold, damp, and miserable, a most powerful wind
directly against us. To add to the discomfort, we sprang a leak, which
gave sixty buckets of water in twenty-four hours. The leak was found
under the rudder. We had to take down a part of the aft-cabin, and to
take up some boards before we could get at it: and when found, we had
nothing on board fit to stop it. At last it was effectually stopped with
towels, torn up and forced in tight, and stiff clay beaten down over
that. I thought this might last until our arrival at Kalpee, where proper
repairs might take place: moored off Bowlee.
_25th._—Christmas Day was ushered in by rain and hail, the wind high and
contrary. At noon the wind decreased, and we got on better, tracking
along the banks, with fourteen men on the goon (track-rope). At seven in
the evening, just as we had moored, a storm came on, accompanied with
the most brilliant forked lightning; and the most violent wind, blowing
a gale, united with the strong stream, bearing full down against us. It
was really fearful. After a time the vivid and forked lightning became
sheeted, and the rain fell, like a second deluge, in torrents. The peals
of thunder shook the cabin windows, and all the panes of glass rattled.
We had lugāoed off a dry nālā (the bed of a stream); the torrents of
rain filled the nālā with water, which poured down against the side of
the pinnace with great force and noise. Fearing we should be driven
from our moorings by the force of the current, I ran on deck to see if
the men were on the alert. It was quite dark: some were on shore taking
up the lāwhāsees by which she was secured to the bank; the rest were
on deck, trying with their long bamboos to shove her out of the power
of the current from the nālā. Having succeeded in this, we were more
comfortable. It was out of the question to take rest during such a storm,
while there was a chance of being driven from our moorings; and being
quite alone was also unpleasant. At length the gale abated, and I was
glad to hear only the rain for the rest of the night. Daylight closed
my weary eyes: on awaking refreshed from a quiet slumber, I found the
Seagull far from Ekouna, near which place we had passed so anxious a
night.
_26th._—Moored off Kalpee, famous for its crystalized sugar. Here a large
budget of letters was brought to me. I remained the whole day at the
station to procure provisions and answer the letters. Nor did I forget to
purchase tools and every thing necessary for the repair of the leak in
the vessel, although we forbore to remove the towels and clay, as she now
only made half a bucket in twenty-four hours.
_28th._—North-west wind very cold: the river most difficult to navigate
in parts; rocky, sandy, shallow. Anchored off Palpoor; found a quantity
of river shells; they are not very pretty, but some are curious.
_29th._—We were in the midst of great sandbanks, in a complete
wilderness; the stream was strong and deep, the tracking-ground good;
here and there the rocks appeared above water under the high cliffs. Off
Belaspoor, on one sandbank, I saw ten crocodiles basking in the sun, all
close together; some turtle and great white birds were on a rock near
them; on the river’s edge were three enormous alligators, large savage
monsters, lying with their enormous mouths wide open, eyeing the boats.
The men on board shouted with all their might; the alligators took no
notice of the shout; the crocodiles, more timid than the former, ran into
the water, and disappeared immediately. These are the first alligators
I have seen in their own domains; they are very savage, and will attack
men; the crocodiles will not, if it be possible to avoid them. I would
willingly have taken the voyage for this one sight of alligators and
crocodiles in their native wildernesses; the scene was so unusual, so
wild, so savage. At sunset, anchored off Gheetamow, and found some shells
during my evening ramble.
At the sale of the effects of the late Col. Gough, in Calcutta, was the
head of a magar (alligator) of incredible size, caught in the Megna;
which, though deficient in not having an under-jaw, was a good weight for
a man to carry, stooping to it with both hands. The creeks of a bend of
the Sunderbunds, not far below Calcutta, are the places frequented, I
hear, by the patriarchs of their race.
The next day we entered a most difficult part of the river; it was
impossible to tell in which direction to steer the vessel; rocks on every
side; the river full of them; a most powerful stream rushing between the
rocks; to add to the danger, we had a strong westerly wind directly in
our teeth, which, united to the force of the stream, made us fear the
goon might break; in which case we should have been forced most violently
against the rocks. We accomplished only one mile in four hours and a
half! I desired the sarang to anchor the vessel, and let the men have
some rest; they had been fagging, up to their waists in water, all the
time, and I wished the wind to abate ere we attempted to proceed further.
After the dāndees had dined, we pushed off again. At Kurunka a pilot came
on board, which pleased me very much, as it was impossible to tell on
which side of the rocks the passage might be: the pilot took us up with
great difficulty through the rocks to the land-mark off the bungalow at
Badoura; there he requested leave to anchor until the wind might abate;
he was afraid to try the stream, it being still stronger higher up. Of
course I consented; after which, accompanied by the pilot, I walked some
three miles to collect fossil bones; these bones were discovered by the
sappers and miners on the river-side, at the little village of Badoura;
the bones are petrified, but to what animal they belonged is unknown;
some cart-loads of them have been taken to Allahabad, to be shown to
the scientific; I brought back five or six of the bones we found at
the place. A short time ago this part of the river was impassable; the
Company sent sappers and miners, who, having surrounded each rock with
a fence that kept out the water, blew them up, and made a passage down
the centre of the river; of course this was a work of time; the fences
were then removed, and the stream flowed unconfined. Large boats can now
go up and down in safety, if they know the passage. The next morning the
pilot accompanied us as far as Merapoor, when he made his salām, and
returned to the sappers’ and miners’ bungalow. The river now became good
and clear; we encountered no more difficulties, and moored quietly off
Seholee at six in the evening.
1835, _Jan. 1st_.—New Year’s Day was as disagreeable as Christmas Day;
cold, frosty; a wind in our teeth; rocks and crocodiles. My pet terrier
was taken ill; with difficulty she was brought through the attack;
poor little Poppus,—she has a dozen names, all of endearment. Passed
Juggermunpoor, where the fair for horses is held.
_2nd._—A fair wind brought us to the Chumbal river. The fort and Hindoo
temple of Bhurrage are very picturesque objects. This is one of the
most difficult passes on the river, on account of the sand banks, and
the power of the stream from the junction of the Jumna and Chumbal. I
am directed not to stop a moment for any thing but letters on my way
to Agra; on my return I shall go on shore (D.V.), and visit all the
picturesque places I now behold merely _en passant_. The Chumbal is a
beautiful river; never was a stream more brilliant or more clear; the
water, where it unites with the Jumna, is of a bright pellucid green.
From the force of the united streams we had great difficulty in passing
the junction; the wind dropped, and we could not move the pinnace on
the towing-rope; we sent a hawser in the dinghee to the opposite shore,
and then, with the united force of the crews of both vessels, hauled
the pinnace across the junction into the quiet waters of the Jumna; it
was 6 P.M. ere this was effected. Whilst the people anchored, and got
the cook-boat over, I walked to a beautiful Hindoo temple, close to
the river’s edge. The fort beyond put me in mind of Conway Castle; the
towers are somewhat similar: on my return I must stop and sketch it. A
wealthy native has sent to petition _an audience_; he is anxious to make
salām to the mem sāhiba. I have declined seeing him, as we must start at
daybreak; but have told him on my return I shall stay a day or two at
this picturesque place, and shall then be happy to receive his visit.
Nothing is so shocking, so disgusting, as the practice of burning bodies;
generally only half-burning them, and throwing them into the river. What
a horrible sight I saw to-day! crowds of vultures, storks, crows, and
pariah dogs from the village glutting over a dreadful meal; they fiercely
stripped the flesh from the swollen body of the half-burned dead, which
the stream had thrown on a sand bank; and howled and shrieked as they
fought over and for their fearful meal!
How little the natives think of death! This morning, when I was on deck,
the body of a woman floated by the pinnace, within the reach of a bamboo;
she was apparently dead, her long black hair spread on the stream; by the
style of the red dress, she was a Hindoo; she must have fallen, or have
been thrown into the river. I desired the men to pull the body to the
vessel’s side, and see if she might not be saved. They refused to touch
it even with a bamboo; nobody seemed to think any thing about it, further
than to prevent the body touching the vessel, should the stream bring
it close to the side. One man coolly said, “I suppose she fell into the
river when getting up water in her gharā” (earthen vessel)!
How easily a murdered man might be disposed of! On account of the expense
of fuel, the poorer Hindoos only slightly burn the bodies of the dead,
and then cast them into the river; by attiring the corpse after the
fashion of a body to be burned, and throwing it into the stream, it would
never attract attention; any native would say, “Do not touch it, do not
touch it; it is merely a burnt body.”
This life on the river, however solitary, is to me very agreeable; and I
would proceed beyond Agra to Delhi, but that I should think there cannot
be water enough for the pinnace; with a fair wind there is much to enjoy
in the changing scene, but tracking against a contrary one is tiresome
work.
_3rd._—A most unpleasant day; we were aground many times, contending
against the stream and a powerful wind. The new goon broke, and we were
at last fixed most firmly and unpleasantly on a bank of sand; in that
position, finding it impossible to extricate the pinnace, we remained all
night.
_4th._—We were obliged to cut our way through the sandbank to the
opposite shore, a distance of about a quarter of a mile; this took
twelve hours to accomplish; the anchor was carried to a distance with a
chain cable, and there dropped; and the pinnace was pulled by main force
through the sand, where there was not water enough to float her. When
out of it, we came upon a stream that ran like a torrent, aided by a
most powerful and contrary wind. To remain where we were was dangerous;
the men carried a thick cable in the dinghee to the shore, made it fast,
and were pulling the vessel across; when half-way, just as we thought
ourselves in safety, the cable broke, the pinnace whirled round and round
like a bubble on the waters, and was carried with fearful velocity down
the stream. The sarang lost all power over the vessel, but, at last, her
progress was stopped by being brought up fast on a sandbank. By dint of
hard work we once more got the cable fastened to the opposite shore,
and carried her safely to the other side; where, to my great delight,
we anchored, to await the decrease of the wind, that howled through the
ropes as though it would tear them from the masts.
Thinking the vessel must have received a violent strain under all the
force she had endured, we opened the hold, and found she had sprung a
leak, that bubbled up at a frightful rate; the leak was under planks it
was impossible to remove, unless by sawing off two feet from three large
planks, if we could procure a saw; such a thing could not be found. I
thought of a razor, the orthodox weapon wherewith to saw through six-inch
boards, and get out of prison; no one would bring forward a razor. At
length I remembered the very small fine saw I make use of for cutting
the soap-stone, and, by very tender and gentle usage, we at length cut
off the ends of the planks, and laid open the head of the leak, under
the rudder, below water-mark. Here the rats and white ants had been very
busy, and had worked away undisturbed at a principal beam, so that you
could run your fingers some inches into it. With a very gentle hand the
tow was stuffed in, but as we stopped the leak in one part, it sprang up
in another; all day long we worked incessantly, and at night, in despair,
filled it up with stiff clay. I went to rest, but my sleep was disturbed
by dreams of water hissing in mine ears, and that we were going down
stern foremost. During the night I called up the men three times to bale
the vessel; she gave up quantities of water. We anchored off Mulgong.
_5th._—Detained by the strong and contrary wind; the leak still gave
up water, but in a less quantity; and it was agreed to leave it in
its present condition until we could get to Etaweh. I was not quite
comfortable, knowing the state of the rotten wood, and the holes the rats
had made, through which the water had bubbled up so fast. The next day,
not one drop of water came from the leak, and the vessel being quite
right afterwards, I determined not to have her examined until our arrival
at Agra, and could never understand why she did not leak.
_9th._—Ever since the 4th we have had the most violent and contrary
winds all day; obliged generally to anchor for two hours at noon, it
being impossible to stem the stream, and struggle against the wind; most
disagreeable work; I am quite tired and sick of it. Thus far I have borne
all with the patience of a Hindoo, the wish to behold the Tāj carrying
me on. It is so cold, my hand shakes, I can scarcely guide my pen; the
thermometer 50° at 10 A.M., with this bitter and strong wind. I dare not
light a fire, as I take cold quitting it to go on deck; all the glass
windows are closed,—I have on a pair of Indian shawls, snow boots, and a
velvet cap,—still my face and head throb with rheumatism. When on deck,
at mid-day, I wear a sola topī, to defend me from the sun.
This river is very picturesque; high cliffs, well covered with wood,
rising abruptly from the water: here and there a Hindoo temple, with a
great peepul-tree spreading its fine green branches around it: a ruined
native fort: clusters of native huts: beautiful stone ghāts jutting into
the river: the effect greatly increased by the native women, in their
picturesque drapery, carrying their vessels for water up and down the
cliffs, poised on their heads. Fishermen are seen with their large nets;
and droves of goats and small cows, buffaloes, and peacocks come to the
river-side to feed. But the most picturesque of all are the different
sorts of native vessels; I am quite charmed with the boats. Oh that I
were a painter, who could do justice to the scenery! My pinnace, a
beautiful vessel, so unlike any thing else here, must add beauty to the
river, especially when under sail.
Aground on a sandbank again! with such a wind and stream it is not
pleasant—hardly safe. What a noise! attempting to force her off the bank;
it is terribly hard work; the men, up to their waists in water, are
shoving the vessel with their backs, whilst the wind and stream throw her
back again. Some call on Allah for aid, some on Gunga, some on Jumna-jee,
every man shouting at the height of his voice. What a squall! the vessel
lies over frightfully. I wish the wind would abate! forced sideways down
on the sandbank by the wind and stream, it is not pleasant. There! there
is a howl that ought to succeed in forcing her off, in spite of the
tufān; such clouds of fine sand blowing about in every direction! Now the
vessel rocks, now we are off once more,—back we are again! I fancy the
wind and stream will have their own way. Patience, mem sāhiba, you are
only eight miles from Etaweh: when you may get over those eight miles may
be a difficult calculation. The men are fagging, up to their breasts in
the river; I must go on deck, and make a speech. What a scene! I may now
consider myself really in the wilderness, such watery _waists_ are spread
before me!
THE MEM SĀHIBA’S SPEECH.
“Ari! Ari! what a day is this! Ahi Khudā! what a wind is here! Is not
this a tufān? Such an ill-starred river never, never did I see! Every
moment, every moment, we are on a sandbank. Come, my children, let her
remain; it is the will of God,—what can we do? Eat your food, and when
the gale lulls we may get off. Perhaps, by the blessing of God, in twelve
months’ time we may reach Etaweh.”
After this specimen of eloquence, literally translated from the
Hindostanee in which it was spoken, the dāndees gladly wrapped their
blankets round them, and crept into corners out of the wind, to eat
chabenī, the parched grain of Indian corn, maize. Could you but see
the men whom I term my children! they are just what in my youth I ever
pictured to myself cannibals must be: so wild and strange-looking, their
long, black, shaggy hair matted over their heads, and hanging down to
their shoulders; their bodies of dark brown, entirely naked, with the
exception of a cloth round the waist, which passes between the limbs.
They jump overboard, and swim ashore with a rope between their teeth, and
their towing-stick in one hand, just like dogs,—river dogs; the water
is their element more than the land. If they want any clothes on shore
they carry them on the top of their heads, and swim to the bank in that
fashion. The mem sāhiba’s river dogs; they do not drink strong waters;
and when I wish to delight them very much, I give them two or three
rupees’ worth of sweetmeats, cakes of sugar and ghee made in the bazār;
like great babies, they are charmed with their _meetai_, as they call it,
and work away willingly for a mem sāhiba who makes presents of sweetmeats
and kids.
Saw the first wolf to-day; I wish we were at Etaweh,—to anchor here is
detestable: if we were there I should be reading my letters, and getting
in supplies for Agra. How I long to reach the goal of my pilgrimage, and
to make my salām to the “Tāj beebee ke rauza,” the mausoleum of the lady
of the Tāj!
CHAPTER XXIX.
PILGRIMAGE TO THE TĀJ.
“HE WHO HAS NOT PATIENCE POSSESSES NOT PHILOSOPHY[125].”
“Whether doing, suffering, or forbearing,
You may do miracles by persevering.”
Etaweh—Moonlight Ride—The Wolves—Bird-catchers—Peacocks—The
Bar of Sand—The Good Luck of the Mem Sāhiba—Narangee
Ghāt—Betaizor—The Silk-cotton Tree—Fields of the
Cotton Plant—The Chakwā Chukwaee—Eloquence of a
Dhobee—Aladīnpoor—Noon, or Loon—Modelling in Khuree—Cotton
Boats—The Ulāk—Vessels on the River—Plantations of the Castor
Oil Plant—Cutting through a Sandbank—First Sight of the
Tāj—Porcupines—Bissowna—Quitted the Pinnace—Arrival at Agra.
1835, _Jan. 10th_.—Ours is the slowest possible progress; the wind seems
engaged to meet us at every turn of our route. At 3 P.M. we lugāoed at
Etaweh; while I was admiring the ghāts, to my great delight, a handful
of letters and parcels of many kinds were brought to me. In the evening,
the chaprāsī in charge of my riding horses, with the sā’īses and
grass-cutters who had marched from Allahabad to meet me, arrived at the
ghāt. The grey neighed furiously, as if in welcome; how glad I was to see
them!
In a minute I was on the little black horse; away we went, the black so
glad to have a canter, the mem sāhiba so happy to give him one: through
deep ravines, over a road through the dry bed of a torrent, up steep
cliffs; away we went like creatures possessed; the horse and rider
were a happy pair. After a canter of about four miles it became dark,
or rather moonlight, and I turned my horse towards the river, guided by
the sight of a great cliff, some 150 or 200 feet high, beneath which we
had anchored. I lost my way, but turned down a bridle road in the bed
of a ravine, which of course led somewhere to the river. I rode under a
cliff so high and overhanging, I felt afraid to speak; at last we got out
of the cold and dark ravine, and came directly upon the pinnace. I had
met, during my ride, two gentlemen in a buggy; one of them, after having
arrived at his own house, returned to look for me, thinking I might turn
down by mistake the very road I had gone, which at night was very unsafe,
on account of the wolves; but he did not overtake me.
The next morning he called on me, and brought me a letter from a
relative; therefore we were soon acquainted, and agreed to have a canter,
when the sun should go down. He told me, on his way down, the police had
brought him a basket, containing half the mangled body of a child; the
wolves had seized the poor child, and had devoured the other half the
night before, in the ravines. It was fortunate I did not encounter a gang
of them under the dark cliff, where the black horse could scarcely pick
his way over the stones.
_11th._—I rode with Mr. G⸺ through the ravines and the Civil Station, and
saw many beautiful and picturesque spots. We returned to the pinnace; he
came on board, and we had a long conference. It was not to be marvelled
at that the mem sāhiba talked a great deal, when it is considered she
had not spoken one word of English for thirty-three days; then she did
talk!—ye gods! how she did talk! Mr. G⸺ offered to send armed men with me
if I felt afraid, but I declined taking them; and he promised to forward
my letters by horsemen every day, to meet the pinnace. Nothing can be
greater than the kindness one meets with from utter strangers in India.
He gave my husband and me an invitation to pay him a visit on our way
back, which I accepted for the absent sāhib.
I was amused by an officer’s coming down to the river, which he crossed;
he then mounted a camel, and his servant another; he carried nothing
with him but some bedding, that served as a saddle, and a violin! In this
fashion he had come down from Sabbatoo, and was going, _viâ_ Jubbulpore,
across to Bombay! thence to sail for England. How charmingly independent!
It is unusual for a gentleman to ride a camel; those who _understand_
the motion, a long swinging trot, say it is pleasant; others complain it
makes the back ache, and brings on a pain in the liver. At Etaweh every
thing was to be had that I wished for; peacocks, partridges, fowls,
pigeons, beef, were brought for sale; atr of roses, peacocks’ feathers,
milk, bread, green tea, sauces; in short, food of every sort. I read and
answered my letters, and retired to rest perfectly fagged.
_12th._—At daybreak the pinnace started once more for Agra,—once more
resumed her pilgrimage; it is seventy-two miles by the road from Etaweh;
how far it may be by this twisting and winding river remains to be
proved. For some days two bird-catchers (chirī-mārs) have followed the
pinnace, and have supplied me with peacocks; to-day they brought a hen
and three young ones; they also brought their nets and the snares with
them, which I had seen them use on shore. The springes are beautifully
made of buffalo-horn and catgut. I bought one hundred and six springes
for catching peacocks, cyrus, wild ducks, &c., for four rupees, and shall
set them in the first jungle we meet. I set them immediately in the
cabin, and caught my own two dogs: it was laughable to see the dismay
of the dogs, nor could I help laughing at my own folly in being such a
child. My head began to throb bitterly, and I spent the rest of the day
ill in bed.
_15th._—At 8 A.M. the thermometer was 46°, at 1 P.M. 66°, a great
difference in five hours. The peacocks, in the evening, were calling from
the cliffs, and came down to feed by the river-side, looking beautiful;
there were four male birds on one spot, quite fearless, not taking any
notice of the men on the goon. Anchored at Purrier.
_16th._—A good day’s tracking; no obstacles; good water, _i.e._ deep
water; anchored late at Dedowlee ke Nuggra.
_17th._—Found a bar of sand directly across the river; about fourteen
enormous boats all aground; numbers of vessels arriving hourly; every
one going aground, as close as they could lie together; in the midst
of the bar was one vessel which had been there four days. The sarang
of the pinnace came to me and said, “Until that salt-boat gets off we
cannot move; in all probability, we shall be utterly unable to cross the
bar.” The whole day, in the dinghee, did the men sound the river; in the
evening I went with them, to see and satisfy myself of the impossibility
of crossing; even the dinghee grounded; where, then, could the pinnace
find water?
I determined to send on the servants, the baggage, and food in the
flat-bottomed cook-boat, to Agra; to write for a dāk for myself, and
to remain quietly in the pinnace, until its arrival; went to bed, out
of spirits at the unlucky accident of the bar across the river. In the
morning, hearing a great noise, I went on deck; the salt-boat was gone,
all the vessels but one were off, and the crew were preparing to pull the
pinnace by main force through the bar of sand; remembering the leak, I
viewed these preparations with anxiety; that leak being only stopped with
mud and towels. They pulled her into the place from which the salt-boat
had at last extricated herself; a little more exertion, and the pretty
Seagull slipped and slid out of the sandbank into deep water. Such a
shout as arose from the crew! “We shall see the Tāj beebee ke Rauza: it
is our destiny; the mem sāhiba’s kismat (fate) is good: to be sure, what
a number of rupees has not the mem sāhiba spent on the pinnace! Her luck
is good; this her pilgrimage will be accomplished; and the sāhib will be
pleased also!”
And the mem sāhiba was pleased; for we had got over a bar in half an
hour, that, the night before, we calculated might take two or three
days to cross, with great risk to the vessel. I had determined to give
up attempting to take the Seagull further, not liking the chance of
straining the timbers so severely, the vessel not being a newly-built
one. “Once more upon the waters!” Thank God, we are not upon the sand!
An acquaintance, the Hon. Mrs. R⸺, has just arrived at Allahabad from
England; nothing could exceed her astonishment when she heard I had
gone up the Jumna alone, on a pilgrimage of perhaps two months or more
to see the Tāj, not forced to make the voyage from necessity. I have
books, and employments of various sorts, to beguile the loneliness; and
the adventures I meet with, give variety and interest to the monotony of
life on the river. Could I follow my own inclinations, I would proceed to
Delhi, thence to the Hills, and on to the source of the Jumna; this would
really be a good undertaking. “Capt. Skinner’s Travels,” which I have
just read, have given me the most ardent desire to go to the source of
the Jumna.
_18th._—Stags, of the chicara sort, with small straight horns, come down
to drink by the river-side; wild geese and cyrus are in flocks on the
sandbanks. A slight but favourable breeze has sprung up, we are going
gently and pleasantly before it. Nārāngee ghāt,—what a beautiful scene!
The river was turned from its channel by the Rajah Buddun Sing, and
directed through a pass, cut straight through a very high cliff: the cut
is sharp and steep; the cliffs abrupt and bold; some trees; native huts;
a temple in the distance; numbers of boats floating down the stream,
through the pass; the pinnace and patelī, in full sail, going up it;
ferry-boats and passengers; cows and buffaloes swimming the ferry; a
little beyond, before the white temple, on a sandbank, are six great
crocodiles, basking in the sun. Am I not pleased? One of the fairest
views I have seen: what a contrast to yesterday, when my eyes only
encountered the sandbank, and the fixture of a salt-boat, our particular
enemy! Anchored at Hurrier; fagged and ill from over-exertion.
_19th._—We arrived at the city of Betaizor, which is built across the bed
where the Jumna formerly flowed. The Rajah Buddun Sing built this ghāt,
and very beautiful it is; a perfect crowd of beautiful Hindoo temples
clustered together, each a picture in itself, and the whole reflected
in the bright pure waters of the Jumna. I stopped there for an hour,
to sketch the ghāt, and walked on the sands opposite, charmed with the
scene,—the high cliffs, the trees; no Europeans are there,—a place is
spoiled by European residence. In the evening we anchored off the little
village of Kheil: rambling on the river’s bank, I saw five peacocks in
the shimoul (the silk-cotton tree), and called Jinghoo Bearer, who ran
off to fetch a matchlock, which he loaded with _two_ bullets; the birds
were so unmolested, they showed no fear when I went under the tree with
the dogs, and only flew away when Jinghoo fired at them; the report
aroused two more peacocks from the next tree; a flock of wild geese, and
another of wild ducks, sprang up from the sands; and the solitary chakwā
screamed āw! āw! The shimoul is a fine high-spreading tree, the flower
a brilliant one; and the pod contains a sort of silky down, with which
mattresses and pillows are often stuffed. The natives object to pillows
stuffed with silk-cotton, saying it makes the head ache. The large
silk-cotton tree (bombax ceiba) is the seat of the gods who superintend
districts and villages; these gods, although minor deities, are greatly
feared. Punchaits, or native courts of justice, are held beneath the
shimoul, under the eye of the deity in the branches. There are fields of
kāpās, the common white cotton plant, (gossypium herbaceum,) on the side
of the river; the cotton has just been gathered; a few pods, bursting
with snowy down, are hanging here and there, the leavings of the cotton
harvest: the plant is an annual. In my garden at Prāg are numerous
specimens of the Bourbon cotton, remarkably fine, the down of which is of
a brown colour.
I have met hundreds of enormous boats, laden with cotton, going down
to Calcutta, and other parts of the country; they are most remarkably
picturesque. I said the report startled the solitary chakwā. The
chakwā is a large sort of reddish-brown wild duck (anas cæsarca), very
remarkable in its habits. You never see more than two of these birds
together; during the day they are never separate,—models of constancy;
during the night they are invariably apart, always divided by the stream;
the female bird flies to the other side of the river at night, remains
there all solitary, and in the morning returns to her mate, who during
the livelong night has been sitting alone and crying āw! āw! The male
calls āw! some ten or twelve times successively; at length the female
gives a single response, “nā’īch!” Leaving the people, some cooking and
some eating their dinners, I rambled on alone, as was my custom, to some
distance from the boats, listening to and thinking of the chakwā. The
first man who finished his meal was the dhobee, a Hindoo, and he started
forth to find me. I questioned him respecting the birds, and he spake
as follows: “When the beautiful Seeta was stolen away from the god Rām,
he wandered all over the world seeking his love. He asked of the chakwā
and his mate, ‘Where is Seeta, where is my love, have you seen her?’
The chakwā made answer, ‘I am eating, and attending to my own concerns;
trouble me not, what do I know of Seeta?’ Rām, angry at these words,
replied, ‘Every night henceforth your love shall be taken from you and
divided by a stream; you shall bemoan her loss the livelong night; during
the day she shall be restored.’
“He asked of the stars, ‘Where is Seeta?’ the silent stars hid their
beams. He asked of the forest, ‘Where is my beloved?’ the forest moaned
and sighed, and could give him no intelligence. He asked of the antelope,
‘Where is she whom I seek, the lost, the beloved?’ The antelope replied,
‘My mate is gone, my heart is bowed with grief, my own cares oppress me.
Her whom you seek mine eyes have not beheld.’”
It is true the birds invariably live after this fashion: they are great
favourites of mine, the chakwās; and I never hear their cry but I think
of Seeta Rām.
_21st._—The wind westerly and bitterly cold. Loon or noon, from which
salt is made, is in large quantities on the river-side. We lugāoed at
Aladīnpoor, the village of Ullah-o-deen, or Aladdin, as you call it;
and I can think of nothing but his wonderful lamp. I walked through the
village; the moment the people caught sight of me and the chaprāsīs, away
they ran and hid themselves. In the middle of the village we found some
young men sitting on the ground round a fire, warming their hands over
the blaze: they did not show any fear, like the rest of the villagers,
and I talked to them for some time. They pointed out their fields of the
castor-oil plant, all nipped by the frost. I requested them to let me buy
a couple of kids to give to the dāndees, a kid feast would warm them
such a cold evening. This morning I saw men brushing what is called noon
off the clayey banks of the river: they steep it in water, then boil it,
when a very good salt is produced. We sometimes use it at table. A poor
man in this way brushes up a little noon, and makes enough for his own
consumption, which is of great advantage to him. The natives consume salt
in large quantities.
All day long I sit absorbed in modelling little temples, or ghāts, or
some folly or another, in khuree, a sort of soap-stone. I can scarcely
put it aside, it fascinates me so much. I cannot quit my soap-stone.
Any thing I see, I try to imitate; and am now at work on a model of
the bā’olī (great well) at Allahabad. Captain K⸺ gave me a tomb he had
modelled in soap-stone, and some tools. I copied it, and have since
modelled a temple on a ghāt and the bā’olī aforesaid; the stone is
easily cut with a saw, or with a knife, and may be delicately carved.
That bought in the bazār at Allahabad, weighing two or three sēr, is
generally of a darkish colour, because the men who bring it from the
Up Country often use it to form their chūlees (cooking places) on the
road; it becomes discoloured by the heat. A relative sent me some khuree
(soap-stone) from a copper mine hill, near Baghesur on the road to Melun
Himalaya, which is remarkably pure and white.
A great deal of the clayey ground on the river’s edge that we have passed
to-day looks like a badly frosted cake, white from the loon or noon. A
little more work at the soap-stone, and then to rest.
_23rd._—I could scarcely close my eyes during the night for the cold,
and yet my covering consisted of four Indian shawls, a rezaī of quilted
cotton, and a French blanket. A little pan of water having been put on
deck, at 8 A.M. the ayha brought it to me filled with ice. What fine
strong ice they must be making at the pits, where every method to produce
evaporation is adopted! I am sitting by the fire for the first time. At
8 A.M. the thermometer was 46°; at 10 A.M. 54°. The dāndees complain
bitterly of the cold. Thirteen men on the goon are fagging, up to their
knees in water, against the stream and this cold wind; this twist in the
river will, however, allow of half an hour’s sail, and the poor creatures
may then warm themselves. I will send each man a red Lascar’s cap and a
black blanket, their Indian bodies feel the cold so bitterly. When the
sails are up my spirits rise; this tracking day by day against wind and
stream so many hundred miles is tiresome work. My solitude is agreeable,
but the tracking detestable. I must go on deck, there is a breeze, and
enjoy the variety of having a sail. At Pukkaghur eight peacocks were by
the river-side, where they had come for water; on our approach they moved
gently away. They roost on the largest trees they can find at night. I
have just desired three pints of oil to be given to the dāndees, that
they may rub their limbs. The cold wind, and being constantly in and out
of the water, makes their skin split, although it is like the hide of the
rhinoceros; they do not suffer so much when their legs have been well
rubbed with oil. What a noise the men are making! they are all sitting
on the deck, whilst a bearer, with a great jar of oil, is doling out a
chhattak to each shivering dāndee.
_24th._—Another trouble! The river is very broad, with three great
sandbanks in the centre, and there is scarcely any water among the
divided channels. Two great cotton boats are aground in the deepest part.
They must be off ere there will be room for the Seagull. Whilst the
cook-boat anchors, the washermen will set to work to wash the clothes on
the river’s edge, and will dry them in the rigging; and the crews of both
vessels will unite to cut the pinnace through the sand. Noon: the cotton
boats are off; the dinghee is moving about, sounding the passage.
I have had a ramble on the sands, and have found a shell, the shape of
the most curious of the fossils we used to find in the cliffs at Christ
Church in Hampshire. I have only found three small ones, and must look
for more; they are rarely on the sands. Whilst we were waiting for the
cotton boats to get off, I sketched them. The boat called an ulāk is
beautiful, like a bird upon the waters—graceful and airy—with bamboos in
all directions, which add to the picturesque effect. The natives say
there is a soul in every vessel: the spirit of an ulāk must be a fairy,
flitting and fanciful. An ulāk will spread her high and graceful sails;
her slender mast, a bamboo, will bend to the wind; and she will be out of
sight almost ere you have gazed upon her—hidden from you by some steep
cliff, crowned with a peepul-tree overshadowing some old Hindoo temple;
below may be a ghāt, jutting into the river, with a sandbank before it,
on which the crocodiles are basking and the wild ducks feeding, while
the sentinel bird keeps a sharp look out, and gives warning to the flock
if danger approach them. How many boats I have counted of divers shapes
and sizes! there is the pinnace, the pinnace budjerow, the budjerow,
the bauleah,—these are all pleasure-boats; the kutcher or kutchuā,
the kuttree, the ghurdowl, the ulāk, the pulwar, the burra patailā,
the surree or soorree, the ferry-boat, and the dinghee; the beautiful
vessels used by the Nawab during the festivals at Moorshedabad, and the
snake-boats—nor must I forget the boats hollowed out of a single tree,
with their shapeless sterns and bows. One of their methods of painting
and ornamenting a ulāk is simple and original. They paint the vessel
black; and then, dipping one hand into white paint, lay the palm flat on
the vessel; this they repeat, until they have produced a border of white
outspread hands. A golden eye is placed at the head, to enable the spirit
of the vessel to see her way through the waters.
I walked to a small village, where there was a plantation of castor-oil
plants, and of cotton plants. The people were working the finest well I
have seen, with the exception of the Persian wheel wells: this employed
ten bullocks, and the water came up in five very large skins, which are
used as buckets.
_25th._—Was there ever any thing so provoking! we are fast in the centre
of a sandbank, cutting through it on a chain-cable; it will take the
whole day to get through it,—perhaps a day or two. There is a fine
favourable wind, the first we have had for ages, and we should be at Agra
by sunset, could we cross this vile sandbank. I go on deck every now
and then to see the progress: we advance about _one yard_ in an hour!
then we leave off work, the stream loosens the sand, and the work begins
again, until another yard is accomplished, and then we wait for the
stream. It is sadly tiresome work: however, the wind is a warm one, and
we have only to contend with the stream and the sandbank.
From 7 A.M. to 3 P.M. we worked away on the bank; at last we cut through
into deep water. I was delighted to see a chaprāsī from Agra, with a
packet of letters for me. How little did the dear ones in England imagine
their letters would find me all alone in my beautiful pinnace, fast stuck
in a sandbank in the middle of the Jumna!
_26th._—This morning from the cliff the white marble dome of the Tāj
could just be discerned, and we made salām to it with great pleasure.
The pinnace anchored below Kutoobpoor, unable to proceed in consequence
of another great sandbank, a quarter of a mile broad. The sarang says,
“To attempt to cut through this on a chain-cable would draw every bolt
and nail out of her frame.” The Ghāt Mānjhī is of the same opinion. I
have been out in the dinghee sounding, and, fearless as I am, I dare not
attempt cutting through such a bank; it would injure the vessel. There
are two more sandbanks besides this ahead. It is folly to injure the
pinnace, and I have made up my mind to quit her. Is it not provoking,
only sixteen miles from Agra, and to be detained here? I have written
to the Hon. H. D⸺ to request him to send down my horses; they must have
arrived long ago, and a palanquin: his answer, I must await with due
patience. What a pity I am not a shot! I saw three deer yesterday whilst
I was amusing myself in an original fashion, digging porcupines out of
their holes, or rather trying to do so, for the dogs found the holes;
but the men could not get the animals out of them. Picked up a chilamchī
full of river-shells. Before us are thirteen large boats aground on this
sandbank. In the evening I took a long walk to see the state of another
shallow ahead, which they say is worse than the one we are off. Six of
the great cotton boats have cut through the sand; perhaps they will
deepen the channel, and we shall be able to pass on to-morrow. There are
peacocks in the fields: what a pity my husband is not here, or that I am
not a shot!
_27th._—Not being satisfied to quit the pinnace without having inspected
the river myself, I went up to Bissowna in the patelī this morning, and
found it would be utter folly to think of taking the Seagull further;
besides which, it is impossible. I might upset her, but to get her across
a bank half a mile in length is out of the question. The water in the
deepest parts is only as high as a man’s knee, and she requires it up to
the hip-bone. It is very provoking—I am tired of this vile jungle—nothing
to look at but the vessels aground; besides which, the noise is eternal,
night and day, from the shouts of the men trying to force their boats off
the sand into deeper water.
_28th._—My riding horses having arrived, I quitted the pinnace, desiring
the sarang to return to Dharu-ke-Nuggeria, and await further orders.
I sent off the cook-boat and attendants to Agra, and taking my little pet
terrier in my arms cantered off on the black horse to meet the palanquin
a friend had sent for me. Late at night I arrived at Agra, found a tent
that had been pitched for me within the enclosure of the Tāj, in front of
the Kālūn Darwāza or great gateway, and congratulated myself on having at
length accomplished the pilgrimage in a voyage up the Jumna of fifty-one
days! Over-exertion brought on illness, and severe pains in my head laid
me up for several days.
CHAPTER XXX.
THE TĀJ MAHUL.
“I have paid two visits to Agra since I returned from Lucnow, and thought
of you and the sāhib whilst admiring the Tāj. Do not, for the sake of all
that is elegant, think of going home without paying it a visit. I shall,
with great delight, be your cicerone in these regions: if you put it off
much longer (if alive), I shall scarce be able to crawl with old age. Do
not think of quitting India; it is a country far preferable to the cold
climate, and still colder hearts of Europe.”
W. L. G⸺, Khasgunge.
The Tāj Mahul—Arzumund Bānoo—Shāhjahān—The Screen—The
Echo of the Dome—Momtâza Zumâni—Her Sons and
Daughters—Asaf-jāh—Noormāhul—Ruins of the second Tāj—Offerings
at the Shrine—The wall—The Kālūn Darwāza—The Fountains—Melā of
the Eed—The Burj—The Jāmma Khāna—The Masjid—The Bāo’lī—Tomb
and Masjid of the Fathī pooree Begam—Tomb of the Akbarābādee
Begam—Ground-plan of the Tāj—The Minarets—Stones used in the
Mosaic—Tomb of the Simundee Begam—The Sitee Khanam—A Farewell
to the Tāj.
1835, _Jan._—I have seen the Tāj Mahul; but how shall I describe its
loveliness? its unearthly style of beauty! It is not its magnitude; but
its elegance, its proportions, its exquisite workmanship, and the extreme
delicacy of the whole, that render it the admiration of the world. The
tomb, a fine building of white marble, erected upwards of two centuries
ago, is still in a most wonderful state of preservation, as pure and
delicate as when first erected. The veins of grey in the marble give
it a sort of pearl-like tint, that adds to, rather than diminishes its
beauty. It stands on a square terrace of white marble, on each angle of
which is a minaret of the same material. The whole is carved externally
and internally, and inlaid with ornaments formed of blood-stones, agates,
lapis lazuli, &c. &c., representing natural flowers. The inscriptions
over all the arches are in the Arabic character, in black marble, inlaid
on white. The dome itself, the four smaller domes, and the cupolas on the
roof, are all of the same white marble carved beautifully, and inlaid
with flowers in coloured stones.
[Illustration: THE TĀJ MEHUL.
فاني پارکس]
The outline of the Tāj, that I have annexed, was executed by Luteef,
a native artist at Agra. It merely gives a faint idea of the style
of architecture; the beauty of the tomb, the handsome buildings that
appertain to it, the marble courts, the fine garden, the fountains, the
beautiful trees, the river Jumna,—all are omitted, the mere elevation is
represented in the sketch. The dome of the Tāj, like all domes erected
by the Muhammadans, is egg-shaped, a form greatly admired; the dome
in Hindoo architecture is always semicircular; and it is difficult to
determine to which style of building should be awarded the palm of beauty.
This magnificent monument was raised by Shāhjahān to the memory of his
favourite Sultana Arzumund Bānoo, on whom, when he ascended the throne,
he bestowed the title of Momtâza Zumâni (the Most Exalted of the age).
On the death of Shāhjahān, his grandson Alumgeer placed his cenotaph in
the Tāj, on the right hand, and close to that of Arzumund Bānoo; this
is rather a disfigurement, as the building was intended alone for the
Lady of the Tāj, whose cenotaph rests in the centre. Formerly, a screen
of silver and gold surrounded it; but when Alumgeer erected the tomb of
Shāhjahān by the side of that of the Sultana, he removed the screen of
gold and silver, and replaced it by an octagonal marble screen, which
occupies about half the diameter of the building, and encloses the tombs.
The open fretwork and mosaic of this screen are most beautiful: each side
is divided into three panels, pierced and carved with a delicacy equal to
the finest carving in ivory; and bordered with wreaths of flowers inlaid,
of agate, bloodstone, cornelian, and every variety of pebble. I had the
curiosity to count the number contained in one of the flowers, and found
there were seventy-two; there are fifty flowers of the same pattern. The
cenotaphs themselves are inlaid in the same manner; I never saw any
thing so elegant; the tombs, to be properly appreciated, must be seen, as
all the native drawings make them exceedingly gaudy, which they are not.
The inscriptions on both are of black marble inlaid on white, ornamented
with mosaic flowers of precious stones.
The first glance on entering is imposing in the extreme: the dim
religious light, the solemn echoes,—at first I imagined that priests
in the chambers above were offering up prayers for the soul of the
departed, and the echo was the murmur of the requiem. When many persons
spoke together it was like thunder,—such a volume of powerful sounds;
the natives compare it to the roar of many elephants. “Whatever you say
to a dome it says to you again[126].” A prayer repeated over the tomb is
echoed and re-echoed above like the peal of an organ, or the distant and
solemn chant in a cathedral.
Each arch has a window, the frames of marble, with little panes of
glass, about three inches square. Underneath the cenotaphs is a vaulted
apartment, where the remains of the Emperor and the Sultana are buried in
two sarcophagi, facsimiles of the cenotaphs above. The crypt is square,
and of plain marble; the tombs here are also beautifully inlaid, but
sadly defaced in parts by plunderers. The small door by which you enter
was formerly of solid silver: it is now formed of rough planks of mango
wood.
It is customary with Musulmāns to erect the cenotaph in an apartment over
the sarcophagus, as may be seen in all the tombs of their celebrated men.
The Musulmāns who visit the Tāj lay offerings of money and flowers, both
on the tombs below and the cenotaphs above; they also distribute money in
charity, at the tomb, or at the gate, to the fakīrs.
The Sultana Arzumund Bānoo was the daughter of the vizier, Asaf-jāh; she
was married twenty years to Shāhjahān, and bore him a child almost every
year; she died on the 18th July, 1631, in childbed, about two hours after
the birth of a princess. Though she seldom interfered in public affairs,
Shāhjahān owed the empire to her influence with her father: nor was
he ungrateful; he loved her living, and lamented her when dead. Calm,
engaging, and mild in her disposition, she engrossed his whole affection;
and though he maintained a number of women for state, they were only the
slaves of her pleasure. She was such an enthusiast in Deism, that she
could scarcely forbear persecuting the Portuguese for their supposed
idolatry, and it was only on what concerned that nation she suffered her
temper, which was naturally placid, to be ruffled. To express his respect
for her memory, the Emperor raised this tomb, which cost in building the
amazing sum of £750,000 sterling. The death of the Sultana, in 1631,
was followed by public calamities of various kinds. Four sons and four
daughters survived her,—Dara, Suja, Aurunzebe, and Morâd: Aurunzebe
succeeded to the throne of his father. The daughters were, the Princess
Jahânārā (the Ornament of the World), Roshenrāi Begam (or the Princess
of the Enlightened Mind), Suria Bânū (or the Splendid Princess), and
another, whose name is not recorded. Arzumund Bānoo was the enemy of
the Portuguese, then the most powerful European nation in India, in
consequence of having accompanied Shāhjahān to one of their settlements,
when she was enraged beyond measure against them, for the worship they
paid to images.
Such is the account given of the Most Exalted of the Age; but we have
no record of her beauty, nor have we reason to suppose that she was
beautiful. She was the niece of one of the most celebrated of women, the
Sultana of Jahāngeer, whose titles were Mher-ul-nissa (the Sun of Women),
Noor-mâhul (the Light of the Empire), and Noor-jahān (Light of the World).
Noor-jahān was the sister of the Vizier Asaf-jāh, and aunt to the lady of
the Tāj. Many people, seeing the beauty of the building, confuse the two
persons, and bestow in their imaginations the beauty of the aunt on the
niece. Looking on the tomb of Shāhjahān, one cannot but remember that,
either by the dagger or the bow-string, he dispatched all the males of
the house of Timūr, so that he himself and his children only remained of
the posterity of Baber, who conquered India.
In former times no Musulmān was allowed to enter the Tāj, but with a
bandage over his eyes, which was removed at the grave where he made his
offerings. The marble floor was covered with three carpets, on which
the feet sank deeply, they were so soft and full. Pardas (screens) of
silk, of fine and beautiful materials, were hung between all the arches.
Chandeliers of crystal, set with precious stones, hung from the ceiling
of the dome. There was also one chandelier of agate and another of
silver: these were carried off by the Jāt Suruj Mul, who came from the
Deccan and despoiled Agra.
It was the intention of Shāhjahān to have erected a mausoleum for
himself, exactly similar to the Tāj, on the opposite side of the river;
and the two buildings were to have been united by a bridge of marble
across the Jumna. The idea was magnificent; but the death of Shāhjahān
took place in 1666, while he was a prisoner, and ere he had time to
complete his own monument.
The stones were prepared on the opposite side of the Jumna, and were
carried off by the Burtpoor Rajah, and a building at Deeg has been formed
of those stones. A part of the foundation of the second Tāj is still
standing, just opposite the Tāj Mahul.
An immense space of ground is enclosed by a magnificent wall around the
Tāj, and contains a number of elegant buildings, surrounded by fine
old trees, and beds of the most beautiful flowers; the wall itself is
remarkable, of great height, of red stone, and carved both inside and
outside.
The Kālūn Darwāza, or great gateway, is a fine building; the four large
and twenty-two smaller domes over the top of the arched entrance are
of white marble; the gateway is of red granite, ornamented with white
marble, inlaid with precious stones.
From the second story is a fine view of the Tāj itself, to which it is
directly opposite. I sat in this superb gateway some time, looking at
the durwān’s snakes; he keeps, as pets, cobra de capellos, caught in
the gardens of the Tāj. There are four rooms in this gateway, in which
strangers, who are visitors, sometimes live during the hot weather.
A long line of eighty-four fountains runs up through the centre of the
garden from this gateway to the tomb itself, eighty of which are in
perfect order. Twenty-two play in the centre of the garden; ten are on
the sides of the tomb in the courts before the Masjids, and the rest run
up in the line from the gate to the tomb. The water is brought across
a fine aqueduct from the Jumna. Of an evening, when the fountains are
playing, and the odour of exotic flowers is on the air, the fall of the
water has a delightful effect, both on the eye and ear: it is really an
Indian paradise.
_Feb. 1st._—A fair, the melā of the Eed, was held without the great
gateway; crowds of gaily-dressed and most picturesque natives were seen
in all directions passing through the avenue of fine trees, and by the
side of the fountains to the tomb: they added great beauty to the scene,
whilst the eye of taste turned away pained and annoyed by the vile round
hats and stiff attire of the European gentlemen, and the equally ugly
bonnets and stiff and graceless dresses of the English ladies. Besides
the melā at the time of the Eed, a small fair is held every Sunday
evening beyond the gates; the fountains play, the band is sent down
occasionally, and the people roam about the beautiful garden, in which
some of the trees are very large and must be very ancient.
A thunderbolt has broken a piece of marble off the dome of the Tāj. They
say during the same storm another bolt fell on the Mootee Masjid, in the
Fort, and another on the Jamma Musjid at Delhi.
The gardens are kept in fine order; the produce in fruit is very
valuable. A great number of persons are in attendance upon, and in charge
of, the tomb, the buildings, and the garden, on account of the Honourable
Company, who also keep up the repairs of the Tāj.
At this season the variety of flowers is not very great; during the
rains the flowers must be in high perfection. The mālī (gardener) always
presents me with a bouquet on my entering the garden, and generally
points out to my notice the wall-flower as of my country, and not a
native of India.
All the buildings in the gardens on the right are fitted up for the
reception of visitors, if strangers: they are too cold at this time
of the year, or I would take up my abode in one of the beautiful burj
(turrets) next to the river.
The two jāmma khānas are beautiful buildings, on each side of the tomb,
of red stone, carved outside, and ornamented with white marble and
precious stones. One of them is a masjid: the domes are of white marble;
the interior is ornamented with flowers in white chūnā and carved red
stone. One of the burj near the masjid contains a fine bā’olī (well).
The four burj at each corner of the enclosure are of the most beautiful
architecture, light and graceful; they are of the same fine red stone,
and the domes are of white marble. From the one generally used as a
residence by visitors to the tomb, the view of the Tāj, the gardens, the
river, and the Fort of Agra beyond, is very fine. During the rains the
river rises, and flows against the outer wall that surrounds the gardens.
The view from the river of this frost-work building, the tomb, is
beautiful: the fine trees at the back of it, the reflection of its marble
walls, and of the two jāmma khānas, with that of the elegant bastions or
towers in the stream is very lovely.
The fretwork appearance of the Tāj is produced by the quantity of carving
on the white marble, which is also ornamented externally with inlaid
Arabic characters, and precious stones worked into flowers, around the
arches and the domes. The marble is cleaned every year, and kept in a
state of perfect purity and repair. Constant attention is requisite to
remove the grass and young trees that shoot forth in any moist crevice:
the birds carry the seeds of the peepul-tree to the roofs, and the young
trees shoot forth, injuring those buildings that are in repair, while
they impart great beauty to ruins.
Beyond the Great Gate, but still within the enclosure of the outer wall
of the Tāj, are the tombs of two begams, erected by Shāhjahān. The
sarcophagus over the remains of the Fathīpooree Begam is of white marble,
carved very beautifully: its pure white marble, without any inlaid work
or mosaic, is particularly to be admired. The building which contains it
is of the lightest and most beautiful architecture, and of carved red
stone; the dome of plain white marble.
On the other side the enclosure, to correspond with this tomb, is that
of the Akbarābādee Begam. The building of red carved stone, the dome of
white marble; the floor and the sides of the apartment that contains the
sarcophagus are of white marble. The latter is beautifully inlaid with
precious stones. On the top of the upper slab is a sort of royal coronet
of precious stones, inlaid on the marble.
Both these tombs are in tolerable preservation from being within the
enclosure of the walls of the Tāj.
In speaking of the red-stone of which the buildings are formed, let it
not be supposed it is of a red, like the flaming and varnished red in the
pictures by the native artists. The red granite is of a sober and dingy
reddish colour, and looks very handsome in buildings; the stones are very
large, and generally beautifully carved; they are of three sorts: the
first is of pure red granite, the second mottled with white spots, and
the third sort streaked with white; all very handsome in architecture. I
brought away a bit of the fallen ornament of red granite from the tomb of
the Akbarābādee Begam as a specimen. The same granite is in quantities in
the quarries at Futtehpoor Sickri. The buildings in the old city of Agra
are of the same material, and some of them, which must be very ancient,
are of this highly-carved red freestone.
I laid an offering of rupees and roses on the cenotaph of Arzumund Banoo,
which purchased me favour in the eyes of the attendants. They are very
civil, and bring me bouquets of beautiful flowers. I have stolen away
many times alone to wander during the evening in the beautiful garden
which surrounds it. The other day, long after the usual hour, they
allowed the fountains to play until I quitted the gardens.
Can you imagine any thing so detestable? European ladies and gentlemen
have the band to play on the marble terrace, and dance quadrilles in
front of the tomb! It was over the parapet of this terrace a lady fell a
few months ago, the depth of twenty feet, to the inlaid pavement below.
Her husband beheld this dreadful accident from the top of the minaret he
had just ascended.
I cannot enter the Tāj without feelings of deep devotion: the sacredness
of the place, the remembrance of the fallen grandeur of the family of the
Emperor, and that of Asaf Jāh, the father of Arzumund Banoo, the solemn
echoes, the dim light, the beautiful architecture, the exquisite finish
and delicacy of the whole, the deep devotion with which the natives
prostrate themselves when they make their offerings of money and flowers
at the tomb, all produce deep and sacred feelings; and I could no more
jest or indulge in levity beneath the dome of the Tāj, than I could in my
prayers.
THE KALUN DARWĀZA.
The gateway to the garden is very grand; it is of red stone, inlaid with
marble, and surmounted by a row of little marble cupolas.
Through a magnificent pair of brass gates you enter a dome, fifty feet
in diameter, through which you pass on to the Tāj. The spandrils of all
the arches are filled up with elegantly-arranged groups of flowers; there
are also broad inscriptions running round the greater arches, both at the
gate and the Tāj.
The approach is from the south, through the grand gateway of the garden;
up the whole length of which, in the centre of fine trees, is a line of
beautiful fountains; the vista is finished by the Tāj. At the end of this
fountain-adorned avenue, you ascend by a hidden staircase of twenty solid
blocks of marble, and arrive on the terrace above, formed of the same
material, from which you go on to the interior of the Tāj, which is an
octagon, surmounted by a dome seventy feet in diameter. The lower range
of arches has an entablature, which is filled with extracts from the
Kur’ān inlaid in black marble.
GROUND PLAN OF THE TOMB OF THE TĀJ.
The general form of the building is square, with the angles cut off, each
front having a large elliptic gothic arch (with a very deep recess) in
the centre; and the two wings have each two smaller arches, one above
the other, and recessed in the same manner as the larger ones; the
obtuse angles are divided in the same way, and appear to belong commonly
to each of the four fronts, as you happen to stand opposite them. The
whole is surmounted by the great dome, surrounded with four smaller ones.
Strangers, when visiting the Tāj, are so much occupied in viewing the
centre apartment, which contains the tombs, that they often omit visiting
the eight rooms that surround that central apartment; four of which are
of square, and four of octagonal form; on the upper floor are eight
rooms of a similar description. The ground plan annexed I copied from an
original plan, shown to me at the tomb.
[Illustration: Ground Plan of the Tomb of the Tāj.
فاني پارکس]
It covers an area of two hundred feet square, upon a terrace of white
marble, about twenty feet above the one of stone, and three hundred and
fifty feet square. At each angle is a minaret upon an octagonal base,
eighty feet in circumference: the bottom of the shaft is twenty feet in
diameter, so that I should think the minarets are at least one hundred
and fifty feet high. The minarets, of white marble, inlaid with precious
stones, are specimens of the most beautiful architecture it is possible
to imagine. Lastly; the stone or lower terrace extends on each side of
the Tāj, and is finished by a mosque on each side, and four beautiful
octagonal bastions, surrounded by dark red stone verandahs, covered with
elegant marble domes. The whole extent of the lower terrace is, I should
say, full nine hundred feet; the pavement is inlaid with black and white
marble.
The Tāj was twelve years in building; two lākhs per annum were allowed to
keep it in order, and support the establishment of priests and servants.
It is situated on the western bank of the Jumna, three miles from the
town of Agra; it is nineteen yards square; and the dome about seventy
feet in diameter: the stones used in the mosaic are:—
1 Lapis Lazuli.
2 Jasper.
3 Heliotrope.
4 Calcedony agate.
5 Calcedony.
6 Cornelians.
7 Moss agate.
8 Plasma, or quartz, or chlorite.
9 Yellow and striped marbles.
10 Clayslate.
11 Nephrite.
12 Shells—limestone, yellow, and variegated.
A single flower in the screen sometimes contains one hundred stones,
exactly fitted, forming a correct representation; many hundred flowers
have equal numbers. It is impossible to estimate the cost: the most
valuable materials were furnished by the sūbadārs of provinces.
Tavernier, who saw this building commenced and finished, asserts, that it
occupied twenty thousand men for twenty-two years. The mausoleum itself,
and all the buildings that pertain to it, cost 3,17,48026,—three crore,
seventeen lākhs, and forty-eight thousand and twenty-six rupees; or,
£3,174,802,—three millions, one hundred and seventy-four thousand, eight
hundred and two pounds sterling. Colonel Sleeman, in his “Rambles of an
Indian Official,” remarks,—“This magnificent building, and the palaces
at Agra and Delhi, were, I believe, designed by Austin de Bordeux, a
Frenchman of great talent and merit, in whose ability and integrity
the Emperor placed much reliance. He was called by the natives Oostan
Eesau Nadir ol Asur, the Wonderful of the Age; and, for his office of
nuksha nuwees, or plan-drawer, he received a regular salary of one
thousand rupees a month, with occasional presents, that made his income
very large. He died at Cochin, on his way back from Goa, whither he had
been sent by the Emperor; and is supposed to have been poisoned by the
Portuguese, who were extremely jealous of his influence at court. Oostan
Eesau, in all the Persian accounts, stands among the salaried architects.”
Beyond the gate, _outside_ the walls, is the tomb of the Simundee Begam,
built by Shāhjahān; the place is in ruins. A cowherd feeds his cattle on
the marble pavement within the tomb; and sacrilegious hands have picked
out all the precious stones with which the white marble sarcophagus was
inlaid. The same royal coronet adorns this grave: the masjid, close to
it, which is in ruins, is of carved red granite, ornamented with white
marble, and surmounted by three white marble domes. The tomb is of red
granite, with a white marble dome.
Beyond the outer gate, to the right, is a masjid belonging to the tomb of
the Fathīpooree Begam, built of red carved granite, now in ruins: within,
a number of young natives were winding and twisting silk; the bright red
and golden-coloured silks gleamed in the light,—a curious contrast to the
ruin of sober red granite.
A short distance beyond is the Sitee Khānam, which, as well as the masjid
opposite, was built by Shāhjahān; it is of red granite, the dome is also
of the same material,—unlike the other tombs, of which the domes are of
white marble: the interior is of white marble, and contains the graves
of two sisters. The graves are of slightly-carved white marble, with
coronets of an inferior sort carved on the upper slab; probably they were
attendants or dependents on the Begam.
The erection of the Tāj was the most delicate and elegant tribute, and
the highest compliment, ever paid to woman.
And now adieu!—beautiful Tāj,—adieu! In the far, far West I shall rejoice
that I have gazed upon your beauty; nor will the memory depart until the
lowly tomb of an English gentlewoman closes on my remains.
CHAPTER XXXI.
PLEASANT DAYS IN AGRA.
The Fort—The Mosque of Pearl—The Jāhangeeree
Mahul—Mher-ul-Nissa—Selīm Ghar—The Palace in the Fort—The
Dewanī Khas—Noor-jahān Burj—Zenāna Masjid—The Shīsha-Mahal—Hall
of Audience—The Vault of Secret Murder—The Black Marble
Slab—The Throne of Akbar—The Steam Baths—The Worship of the
Rising Sun—View from the Bridge of Boats on the Jumna.
1835, _Feb. 3rd._—I visited the Fort: one I particularly admire; it is
perfectly native. An engineer will perhaps say it wants the strength of
an European fortification. An admirer of the picturesque, it pleases
me better than one more regularly and scientifically built. There are
two gateways; the principal one is called the Delhi Gate, and to the
second, named after the Rajah Umrāo Sing, is attached a tradition. Akbar
demolished the old Fort of Agra, and replaced it in four years by one of
red freestone. It contains innumerable buildings of high interest, among
which, its brightest ornament, is the
MOOTEE MASJID, THE MOSQUE OF PEARL.
From the gate of entrance you do not expect to see much, the mosque being
completely hidden by a high screen of stone. Having passed the gate, you
find yourself in a court of marble one hundred and fifty feet square.
On the opposite side is the mosque itself; its seven arches of Gothic
mould are surmounted by three domes, of oval form, and nine cupolas; the
interior is formed of arches, three in depth. The mosque fills up one
side of the court; on the right and left are ranges of arcades and two
gateways. It is built entirely of white marble, finely carved; the arches
are deeply scalloped, and extremely beautiful. Next to the Tāj, I prefer
the Mootee Masjid to any building I have seen. It was built by Shāhjahān,
and completed in the year 1656. It is in good repair, but is seldom used
as a place of worship. It has no ornamental work in mosaic of precious
stones, but is elegant and lovely in its simplicity.
The Jahāngeeree Mahul, or Palace of Jahāngeer, which is in the Fort, was
built by Akbar; the whole is of red freestone, richly carved, but greatly
in decay. I viewed this palace with the greatest interest, thinking it
might be the one in which Jahāngeer confined the beautiful Mher-ul-Nissa,
the Sun of Women, for four years, ere she became his favourite sultana.
History relates, that Selim, the son of Akbar, in his youth, ere he
took the pompous title of Jahāngeer, the Conqueror of the World, beheld
and became enamoured of Mher-ul-Nissa, the betrothed of Sher Afgan, a
Turkomanian nobleman of high renown, whom she afterwards married. He was
a man who had served with great reputation in the wars of Akbar, and was
dignified by the title of Sher Afgan, or the Overthrower of the Lion.
The passion which Jahāngeer had repressed returned with redoubled
violence when he mounted the throne, and after several ineffectual
attempts to take the life of Sher Afgan, he at length succeeded. The
brave man, after a noble resistance, fell, six balls having entered his
body. The officer who, by the command of the Emperor, had committed this
murder, hastened to the house of Sher Afgan, and sent Mher-ul-Nissa, with
all imaginable care, to Delhi. The Emperor’s mother received her with
great tenderness, but Jahāngeer refused to see her; probably remorse
had taken possession of his soul. Be that as it may, he gave orders to
shut her up in one of the worst apartments of the palace. He would not
deign to behold her; and, contrary to his usual munificence to women, he
allowed her but fourteen ānās, less than two shillings a day, for the
subsistence of herself and some female slaves. This coldness, unless the
offspring of remorse, was unaccountable towards a woman whom he had
passionately loved when not in his power.
Mher-ul-Nissa was a woman of haughty spirit, and disappointment preyed
upon her mind; she trusted to the amazing power of her own beauty, which,
to conquer, required only to be seen; as the Emperor persisted in his
refusal to see the widow of Sher Afgan, she had recourse to the following
expedient: to raise her own reputation in the palace, and to support
herself and her slaves with more decency than the scanty pittance allowed
her would admit, she called forth her invention and taste, in working
some pieces of admirable tapestry and embroidery, in painting silks with
exquisite delicacy, and in inventing female ornaments of every kind;
these articles were carried by her slaves to the different apartments
of the zenāna, and to the harems of the great officers of state. They
were bought with the greatest avidity; nothing was fashionable amongst
the ladies of Agra and Delhi but the work of her hands. She accumulated
by this means a considerable sum of money, with which she repaired and
beautified her apartments, and clothed her slaves in the richest tissues
and brocades; whilst she herself affected a very plain and simple dress.
In this situation the widow of Sher Afgan continued for four years,
without having once seen the Emperor. Her fame reached his ears from
every apartment of the zenāna, and from all quarters: curiosity
vanquished his resolution; he resolved to surprise her, and suddenly and
unexpectedly entering her apartments, found every thing so elegant and
magnificent that he was struck with amazement. But the greatest ornament
of the whole was the beautiful Mher-ul-Nissa herself, in a plain dress
of white muslin, whilst her slaves were attired in rich brocades. She
received the Emperor with the usual salām, touching first the ground,
and then her forehead, with her right hand; she was silent, and stood
with downcast eyes. Jahāngeer remained equally silent for some time, in
admiration of her stature, shape, beauty, grace, and that inexpressible
voluptuousness of mien, he found impossible to resist.
On recovering from his confusion, he seated himself; and, placing her by
his side, inquired, “Why this difference between the Sun of Women and her
slaves?” She very shrewdly replied, “Those born to servitude must dress
as it shall please those whom they serve; these are my servants, and I
lighten the burthen of bondage by every indulgence in my power: but I,
who am your slave, O Emperor of the World, must dress according to your
pleasure, and not my own.” In spite of the sarcasm, Jahāngeer, greatly
pleased, took her in his arms; and the next day a magnificent festival
was ordered to be prepared, for the celebration of his nuptials with
the widow of Sher Afgan. Her name was changed by edict into Noor-Mahul,
the Light of the Harem. The Emperor’s former favourites vanished before
her, and during the rest of the reign of Jahāngeer she held the chief
power in the empire. Her father was raised to the office of vizier, and
her two brothers to the first rank of nobility; one of whom, Asaf-jāh,
was the father of the Lady of the Tāj. Although Mher-ul-Nissa was
anxious to become the Empress, she was innocent of any participation
in the murder of her husband, Sher Afgan. A second edict changed her
name to Noor-jahān, or Light of the World; to distinguish her from the
other wives of the Emperor, she was always addressed by the title of
Shahee or Empress. Her name was joined with that of the Emperor on the
current coin; she was the spring that moved the great machine of state.
Her family took rank immediately after the princes of the blood; they
were admitted at all hours into the presence, nor were they secluded
from the most secret apartments of the zenāna. During an insurrection,
it is mentioned, that the Shahee, mounted on an elephant, plunged into
the stream, with her daughter by her side; the latter was wounded in
the arm, but Noor-jahān pressed forward; three of her elephant-drivers
were successively killed, and the elephant received three wounds on the
trunk; in the mean time she emptied four quivers of arrows on the enemy.
The Rajpūts pressed into the stream to seize her, but the master of the
household, mounting the elephant, turned him away, and carried her out of
the river, notwithstanding her threats and commands. Such is the history
that is recorded of the Light of the World, which imparted a strong
interest to my visit to the Jahāngīree Palace. Noor-jahān had one child,
a daughter, by Sher Afgan, but no offspring by Jahāngeer.
THE SELĪM GHAR.
The Selīm Ghar was formerly a large building, but the outer part has been
pulled down by the Honourable Company. One centre room of red granite
still remains, in the style of the Jahāngīree Palace; it was built by
Akbar, and, no doubt, was called Selīm Ghar after his son, ere he took
the title of Jahāngeer.
THE PALACE IN THE FORT
contains magnificent buildings, which are all of white marble, and were
erected by Shāh-jāhan. The dewanī-khas, or hall of private audience, is
a noble structure; the arches are beautiful; so is the building, which
is of the same material, inlaid with coloured stones. In the interior,
the roof and sides are beautifully and delicately ornamented with the
representations of various flowers, beautifully combined, and formed
of precious stones; the whole of the ornaments are also richly gilt.
The apartments of the zenāna, which adjoin this building, are of white
marble, exquisitely carved, and inlaid with precious stones, in the style
of the mosaic work at the Tāj. These apartments were converted into a
prison for Shāhjahān, during the latter part of his reign. The central
room is a fountain, which plays in, and also falls into a basin of white
marble, inlaid with the most beautiful designs, so that the water appears
to fall upon brilliant flowers.
The Noor-jahān burj, or turret of Noor-jahān, is of the same exquisitely
carved marble, inlaid in a similar manner. In an apartment on the
opposite side of the court the same style is preserved; the water here
falls over an inlaid marble slab, which is placed slanting in the side of
the wall, and, being caught, springs up in a fountain.
Some wretches of European officers—to their disgrace be it said—made
this beautiful room a cook-room! and the ceiling, the fine marbles, and
the inlaid work, are all one mass of blackness and defilement! Perhaps
they cooked the sū’ar, the hog, the unclean beast, within the sleeping
apartments of Noor-jahān,—the proud, the beautiful Sultana!
In this turret I took refuge for some time, from the heat of the noon-day
sun. What visions of former times passed through my brain! How I pictured
to myself the beautiful Empress, until her portrait was clear and well
defined in my imagination: still, it bore an European impress. I had
never entered the private apartments of any native lady of rank, and I
longed to behold one of those women of whose beauty I had heard so much;
I had seen two paintings of native women, who were very beautiful; but
the very fact that these women had been beheld by European gentlemen,
degraded them to a class respecting which I had no curiosity. I was now
in the deserted zenāna of the most beautiful woman recorded in history;
and one whose talents and whose power over the Emperor, made her, in
fact, the actual sovereign; she governed the empire from behind the
parda. The descendants of Jahāngeer, in their fallen greatness, were
still at Delhi; and I determined, if possible, to visit the ladies of the
royal zenāna now in existence.
The zenāna masjid, a gem of beauty, is a small mosque, sacred to the
ladies of the zenāna, of pure white marble, beautifully carved, with
three domes of the same white marble.
The shīsha-mahal, or house of glass, is both curious and elegant,
although the material is principally pounded tālc and looking-glass. It
consists of two rooms, of which the walls in the interior are divided
into a thousand different panels, each of which is filled up with raised
flowers in silver, gold, and colours, on a ground-work of tiny convex
mirrors! The idea it impresses on the mind is that of being inside some
curiously worked and arched box, so unlike is the apartment to a room!
The roof reminds you of the style of ceiling that prevailed during the
time of Louis the XIV., and resembles the ceilings at Versailles. Pounded
mica has the effect of silver. Fronting the entrance, in the second
room, are three rows of niches for lights, and below, standing forward
a little, there are more rows of marble niches for the same. From the
top, the water pours out, and falls in a broad sheet _over_ the upper
lights, and is received below in a basin, from which it again pours forth
in another fall over the lower row of lights, so that you see the lights
burning _behind_ the falling waters. The waters are then received in a
fountain, which springs high and sparkles in the glare, and then, running
over a marble causeway, fills another beautifully carved white marble
basin, from the centre of which springs another fountain, which is in the
first apartment.
The lall petarah, or audience hall, is an immense hall, now used as an
armoury.
I have just returned from an expedition that has taken a marvellous hold
of my fancy. Yesterday Mr. C⸺ said that, if I would promise to pay the
Shīsha-Mahal a visit, he would have it lighted up: the apartments are
usually only lighted up to satisfy the curiosity of the Governor-general.
I went with pleasure; the place was illuminated with hundreds of little
lamps: there was not time to have the water raised from the river, or
we should have seen the effect of the sheets of water pouring over
and beyond the rows of lights in the marble niches. After viewing the
Shīsha-Mahal, the effect of which was not as good as I had imagined it
would be, Mr. C⸺ asked me if I should like to see the apartments under
ground, in which the padshah and his family used to reside during the hot
winds. We descended to view these tykkanahs and the steam-baths belonging
to them. Thence we went by the aid of lighted torches to view a place
that made me shudder. An officer examining these subterranean passages
some time ago, observed, that he was within the _half_ of a vault of an
octagon shape, the other half was blocked up by a strong, but hastily
formed wall. Tradition amongst the natives asserted, that within the
underground passages in the Fort, was a vault in which people had been
hanged and buried, but no one could say where this vault was to be found.
The officer above-mentioned, with great toil and difficulty, cut through
a wall _eight feet in thickness_, and found himself in an inner vault of
large dimensions, built of stone, with a high and arched roof. Across
this roof was a thick and carved beam of wood, with a hole in its centre,
and a hook, such as is used for hanging people. Below and directly under
this hole in the beam, and in the centre of the vault, was a grave;
this grave he opened, and found the bangles (ornaments for the arms) of
a woman. Such is the place I have just visited. My blood ran cold as I
descended the steps, the torches burning dimly from the foulness of the
air, and I thought of the poor creatures who might have entered these
dismal passages, never to revisit the light of day. I crept from the
passage through the hole which had been opened in the thick wall, and
stood on the ransacked grave, or perhaps graves of secret murder. Close
to this vault is another of similar appearance; the thickness of the
wall has baffled the patience of some person who has attempted to cut
through it; however, the officers who were with me this evening say they
will open it, as well as a place which they suppose leads to passages
under the city. An old sergeant who has been here thirty years, says he
once went through those passages, but the entrance has subsequently been
bricked up, and he cannot discover it: the place which it is supposed
is the blocked-up entrance, through which he passed, will, they say, be
opened to-morrow. Having seen this spot of secret murder and burial, I
can believe any of the horrible histories recorded in the annals of the
padshahs: only imagine the entrance having been blocked up by a wall
_eight_ feet in thickness!
Quitting the Fort, we drove to the Tāj: the moon was at the full, adding
beauty to the beautiful; the Tāj looked like fairy frost-work, yet
so stately and majestic. And this superb building—this wonder of the
world—is the grave of a woman, whilst only a short distance from it, is
the vault of secret murder,—the grave also of a woman! What a contrast!
How different the destiny of those two beings! The grave of the unknown
and murdered one only just discovered amidst the dismal subterraneous
passages in the Fort: the grave of the other bright and pure and
beautiful in the calm moonlight. The damp, unwholesome air of the vaults
is still in my throat; we were some time exploring and hunting for the
passage, which, they say, leads to the temple of an Hindoo, who lives in
the Tripolia; he will suffer no one to enter his temple, and declares the
devil is there _in propriâ personâ_.
When I retired to rest on my charpāī, I found it difficult to drive away
the fancies that surrounded me.
The walls of the Fort, and those buildings within it that are of carved
red freestone, were built by Akbar: the marble buildings were erected by
Shāhjahān.
The seat of the padshah is an immense slab of black marble, the largest
perhaps ever beheld; it was broken in two by an earthquake. A Burā
Bahādur, from this throne of the padshah, exclaimed, “I have come, not
to succeed Lord Auckland, but Akbar!” The convulsion of the earth, that
split in two the throne of black marble, could not have astonished it
more than this modest speech—Allāhu Akbar!
In front, and on the other side of the court, is the seat of the vizier;
a slab of white marble. The seat on which the padshah used to sit to view
the fights of the wild beasts in the court below, is one of great beauty;
the pillars and arches, of the most elegant workmanship, are beautifully
carved; the whole plain and light.
The steam-baths are octagonal rooms below, with arched roofs; three of
these rooms are of white marble, with inlaid marble pavements; and there
is a fountain, from which hot water springs up from a marble basin. The
baths in the apartments below the palace, which most probably belonged to
the zenāna, were broken up by the Marquis of Hastings: he committed this
sacrilege on the past, to worship the rising sun; for he sent the most
beautiful of the marble baths, with all its fretwork and inlaid flowers,
to the Prince Regent, afterwards George the Fourth.
Having thus destroyed the beauty of the baths of the palace, the
remaining marble was afterwards sold on account of Government; most
happily, the auction brought so small a sum, it put a stop to further
depredations.
At sunrise, from the Bridge of Boats, nothing can be more beautiful
than the view up and down the river: there are an hundred domed bastions
jutting out from the banks amid the gardens and residences of the nobles
of former days: the Fort, with its marble buildings, peeping over the
ramparts; the custom house, and many other prominent objects; form a
magnificent _tout ensemble_.
CHAPTER XXXII.
REMARKABLE BUILDINGS AROUND AGRA.
The House of the Wuzeer—The Jāmma Masjid—Tomb of
Jahānārā Begam—The Tripolia—The Mahookma Masjid—The
Madrissa—Etmad-od-Doulah Cheen-ke-Masjid—Rām Bagh—Syud
Bagh—Secundra—The Chamber of Gold—Miriam Zemānee—Kos Minārs.
1835, _Feb._—The residence of the Wuzeer close upon the Jumna, and
without the walls of the Tāj, is a house now in ruins, with a large
garden containing the tombs of the Wuzeer of Shāhjahān and of his family.
An Eastern writer says, “He rendered the field flourishing and fruitful:
he passed through life with reputation and lustre; and when he sank into
the grave, a cloud of sorrow obscured the face of the empire.”
THE JĀMMA MASJID,
Or great mosque, was built by Jahānārā, the favourite daughter of
Shāhjahān and Arzamund Banoo. The princess Jahānārā (the Ornament of the
World) was an unmarried lady, and devoted to religion. She is described
as fourteen years of age when her father mounted the throne; sensible,
lively, generous, elegant in person, and accomplished in mind. Her
influence over her father was unbounded.
The Masjid is a fine mass of building of red carved granite; the court
and fountains handsome. The three domes, with their peculiar adornments,
are beautifully formed; they are inlaid with red granite and white
marble. This immense masjid is very handsome: over the doors are Arabic
characters in black and white marble, and the outside is ornamented
with the same. Within it is ornamented with chūnā and white marble. The
workmanship cost five lākh, and the time it took in building was five
years. The stones and marbles were sent from different Dependents as
presents to the princess. The masjid was much shaken forty years ago by
an earthquake, which also did injury to the Tāj.
The Jāts from the Deccan, who were in Agra about ten years, despoiled
this masjid: they were expelled by the Vukeel of the Delhi Padshah. There
are three domes on the roof, and four burj at the corners. In the court
of this mosque the sixtieth regiment of Native Infantry saw some fighting
some thirty-three years since, and the old place certainly shows marks
of hot work; however, they succeeded in taking it. From the top of this
masjid you have a good view of the city of Agra, with Akbar’s tomb at
Secundra in the distance. This princess also made the garden called “Bagh
Zaarrai” on the opposite bank of the Jumna.
About one mile east of the city (of Delhi) is the tomb of the celebrated
Jahānārā Begam, eldest daughter of the emperor Shāhjahān, no less famous
for her wit, gallantry, and beauty, than for her filial attachment in
undergoing a voluntary confinement of ten years with her father in the
castle of Agra. The tomb is of fine white marble, with a hollow space at
the top, which was formerly filled with earth and flowers. At the head
of the grave is a tablet of white marble, with an inscription in black
characters; the slab is decorated at its corners with cornelians of
different colours.
١٠٩٤
بحجز کياه و سبزي نپوشد مزار ما
که قبرپوش غريبان همه کياه و بس
الفقره العاجلت جهان ارا بيکم بنت شاه جهان مريد
In English thus:
“Let no one scatter over my grave aught besides earth and
verdure, for such is best befitting the sepulchre of one of an
humble mind.”
On the margin,
“The perishable fakīr, Jehanarai Begam, daughter to Shāhjahān,
and disciple of the saints of Cheesty, in the year of the
Hijerah 1094[127].”
From the Delhi Gate of the Fort of Agra, which is grand and solid, but
sadly disfigured by fanciful patterns in whitewash, you come to the
Tripolia, so called from its three gates, I imagine, but it may be three
any thing else. A low arcade of stone runs all round the area, and forms
the Fort Bazār. It is built of red granite.
The Mahookma Masjid beyond the wall is remarkable for its five domes; it
was built by Jahāngeer, and is now used as a Company’s Godown (magazine
of stores).
The Madrissa, a Muhammadan College, erected two years ago by the
Government, is a handsome building.
THE MAUSOLEUM OF ETMAD-OD-DOULAH.
This tomb is situated on the opposite side of the Jumna: to arrive at it,
you cross a bridge of boats. It is situated in a walled garden, to which
there are four gateways of red granite ornamented with black and white
marble. The building stands on a quadrangular terrace of white marble,
on each side of which is a marble fountain. The tomb is of white marble
inlaid with precious stones, and fretwork of the same material, both
internally and externally. The roof is ornamented with four turrets and a
sort of dome in the centre.
Chaja Aiass, a native of Tartary, of ancient family, was raised to the
rank of absolute Wuzeer by Jahāngeer, under the title of Etmad-od-Doulah,
after his marriage with his daughter, the beautiful Mher-ul-Nissa, the
widow of Sher Afgan. The centre room in the tomb contains the sarcophagus
of the Wuzeer and that of his wife, of yellow marble, carved. The walls
of the room are of white marble, inlaid, the pavement of the same. The
ceiling is a mass of the most curious, the most elaborate workmanship
in gold and silver, and coloured flowers, raised in compartments. What
labour must have been bestowed on such a ceiling! The effect is rich,
curious, and fairy-like. In one of the four apartments at the side is
the tomb of his son, in another that of his daughter. The pavement is
very handsome, of coloured and white marbles and precious stones, lapis
lazuli, bloodstone, agate, &c. The place is quickly going to decay, no
care whatever being taken of it further than to prevent any persons
carrying off the marbles. The name of Etmad-od-Doulah is revered to this
day in India, both on account of his own merits, and his being celebrated
as the parent of the “Sun of Women.”
THE CHEEN KE PADSHĀDĀNEE, KE MASJID,
Or the mosque of the Princess of China, is on the same side of the river
as the tomb of the Wuzeer, situated to the left of the Bridge of Boats.
It is built directly upon the river. The effect of the reflection of
the brilliant porcelain enamel with which it is inlaid must have been
most beautiful in the clear stream below. The building consisted of the
tomb itself, on each side of which was a masjid, and beyond each masjid
was a burj, as the natives call them, a pavilion or turret. These five
buildings were all of the same brilliant enamel, like finely coloured
porcelain—flowers in compartments, and Arabic inscriptions over the
arched doorways. The interior was of the same work, mixed with much gold.
As bits fall from the ceiling the natives melt them and sell the gold.
Within the tomb are some sarcophagi which have been completely destroyed
by the gardeners, who live within the tomb and tie their bullocks to the
graves! When the sun shines on the outside of the building the remains
of the porcelain dazzle the sight. The river flows by and washes the
walls. A native boy offered to bring me some of his toys, bits of enamel
which had fallen from the roof; but the father interposed, and rather
angrily prevented his showing them; of course, on account of the value of
the gold mixed up with the enamel. This place, they tell me, belongs to
the Government, by whose order they say the ceilings have been sold to
merchants in Agra, by which means the two mosques and the two burj have
been quite destroyed. To whom this monument and mosque belonged I could
not discover. “When he died and when the worms ate him I know not[128].”
The Rām Bagh, adjoining this tomb, is a fine native garden, laid out, by
the Empress Noor-jahān, in stone walks, terraces, temples, pavilions, and
a building in the centre, on the side of the river.
Invalids come here to reside for the benefit of their health; I sat down
under the shade of the fine trees, and spent some of the hottest hours of
mid-day, reading the history of the mighty dead, and pondering over the
fallen greatness of former days. It was cool and pleasant, and the scene
a gay one: the garden was filled with gaily-dressed Hindoos, who came to
visit the place during the fair that is annually held near the spot; the
fruit sells for about one thousand rupees a year.
The Syud Bagh, a garden next to it, although in ruins, is a much finer
one than the Rām Bagh: the pavilions on the river-side are remarkably
beautiful, of richly-carved red granite; it was laid out by—_non mi
ricordo_.
_19th._—My husband having arrived dāk, with great delight I accompanied
him to visit the Fort, and displayed for his benefit all my
recently-acquired knowledge.
SECUNDRA.
As the burial-place of Akbar Shāh, this is the most interesting spot
near Agra; and I accepted an invitation to spend the day there with much
pleasure. The tomb is on the Delhi road, about seven miles from Agra;
we drove there in the early morning. It is situated in a fine piece of
park-like ground, encompassed by a high wall, filled with noble trees
and fountains,—a quadrangle of forty acres. To this enclosure there are
four gateways; the principal gateway is of red granite, richly carved,
inlaid with ornaments in white marble, with inscriptions in the Persian
character in black marble. The form of the gateway is reckoned very fine,
and likely to be durable. It is very lofty, and the roof is ornamented
by four shattered white marble minarets, one at each angle, which are
all broken off about the centre; this appears like the effect of time or
storm, but I have some idea that they were left in this unfinished state,
for some particular reason.
[Illustration: THE TOMB OF AKBAR SHAH.
فاني پارکس]
Having passed the gateway, you proceed to the mausoleum, a magnificent
pile of red granite, erected by Jahāngeer in memory of his father; the
design of the building is most remarkable, and consists of a series of
terraces, rising one above the other, until finished by one of white
marble; all the arches of which are filled with lattice-work of different
patterns. The terraces are ornamented with numberless small turrets, of
the most beautiful shape; their domes of white marble, with the exception
of eight, which are covered with enamelled porcelain. The sketch annexed
was taken by Luteef, a native artist at Agra; it merely gives the outline
of the building.
THE SONAHLĀ MAHAL.
On entering the building, the first apartment into which you are
conducted is the sonahlā mahal, or Chamber of Gold. The sides and ceiling
of this vaulted room are in compartments, ornamented with flowers raised
in gold, in silver, and enamel; Arabic characters, in gold, are raised
upon a blue ground; and the ornaments are of different coloured stones,
and enamelled tiles, richly gilt. This chamber is thirty-four feet and
a half square; the conjectured height thirty feet. From this a low,
vaulted, narrow passage leads to the vault containing the sarcophagus,
in which is deposited the remains of the mighty Akbar, covered with a
plain marble slab, over which a lamp is kept continually burning. The
tomb is seen as represented by Luteef, of Agra, in his sketch of the
golden chamber, but not quite so distinctly. The length of the passage
is thirty-five paces; the square vault thirty-seven feet and a half. The
building is of red granite, until you reach the upper or marble terrace,
which is four stories high; in the inside of which is a beautiful
court-yard, with an arcade running round it. The pavement is of white
and coloured marble, inlaid; at each angle is a white marble turret,
and the whole is surrounded by a screen of the most exquisitely carved
fretwork in white marble. This terrace is entirely open to the winds and
the sun, having no roof. The cenotaph in the centre is of white marble,
beautifully carved in flowers; and inscribed in Persian characters are
the “Now Nubbey Nām,” the ninety-nine names or attributes of the Deity,
from the Kur’ān. “Verily there are ninety-nine names of God; whoever
remembers them shall enter into Paradise.” At the head of the monument is
inscribed “Allāhu Akbar!” carved in the Persian character; the whole is
covered by a wretched chhappar or awning, which the old Muhammadan, who
was in attendance, informed me was to protect the “_words of God_” from
the rain; had he not told me this, I should have thought it was intended
to protect the tomb from the weather.
A chiraghdānee (the place of a lamp), of white marble, finely carved,
stands at the head of the grave. It is a tomb worthy of him who reposes
beneath it. The unfortunate Emperors of Delhi! shadows of royalty! well
may they look at the tomb of Akbar, and exclaim, “My dead are better than
your living[129].”
The lower verandah of this building is immense; you may judge of its
capacity, when I mention, it was once used as a barrack, and held a whole
regiment of dragoons! Ten of the arches contain tombs; in one of them
are two monuments of carved white marble; on the larger of the two is
this inscription in Persian,—“This is the grave of Arām Banū.” The tomb
of the infant daughter, Asalut Banū, is at the side, which is of plain,
undecorated marble; on the top of it is a hollow space, which used to be
filled with milk. The followers of the prophet make a difference in the
architecture of a tomb for a man or woman: on the slab of a man’s tomb
a portion is raised and finished with stone, on which there is often an
inscription; the tomb of a woman is hollowed out at the top some few
inches in depth, to receive earth, in which flowers are planted; and, for
the water to run off, there is a small hole at the end. The first archway
on the left contains the grave of Shuker Nisa Begam, another of the
daughters of the Emperor; the pavement is inlaid, and the tomb of carved
white marble. The second archway contains the tomb of Sultan Banū, in
the same style as the former; the screens in front of the arches are of
exquisite open-work in white marble.
The daughters of the Emperor were destined to remain single, there being
no prince worthy of alliance with the family of Akbar. Jahāngeer married
the Jodh Baee, the daughter of Rao Sing of Bikaner; she was the mother
of Shāhjahān; her tomb is at Secundra. The natives call the garden
Bihishtabād, or the Paradise. The Government keep this noble tomb in
repair.
Our tents having been pitched under one of the fine trees in the garden,
we partook of a most luxurious tiffin; and the wine, which was iced to
perfection, proved very acceptable after the fatigues of the day.
In the cool of the evening we visited the tomb of Miriam Zumanee, one
of the wives of Akbar: it is a large building of carved red granite,
half a mile from the Emperor’s monument. The sarcophagus is below; the
cenotaph, of plain white marble, above in the open air; and the structure
is ornamented with turrets of red granite. The whole is rapidly falling
to decay.
Driving to Secundra, I observed two of the Kos Minār, which were erected
by Akbar, at a distance of every two miles on the road from Agra to
Delhi; one of them was in a very perfect state of preservation. As they
will be mentioned hereafter, I will close this account of a pleasant day
in the East.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
REVELATIONS OF LIFE IN THE ZENĀNA.
“WHOEVER HATH GIVEN HIS HEART TO A BELOVED OBJECT, HATH PUT HIS BEARD
INTO THE HANDS OF ANOTHER[130].”
Invitation to Khasgunge—Kutchowra—The Zenāna—A Timoorian
Princess—Opium-eating—Native Dishes—The Evening Party—The
beautiful Begam—Musalmanī Attire and Ornaments—Timūr-lung—Gold
and Silver Beds—Atr of various sorts—Perfume of the Body of the
Prophet—Dye for the Hands and Feet—Churees.
1835, _Feb._—Khasgunge, the residence of my friend Colonel Gardner, is
sixty miles from Agra: he wrote to me expressing a wish that I should
visit him, and regretting he was too unwell to meet me at Agra, and
conduct me to his house. I was delighted to accept the invitation,
particularly at this time, as he informed me a marriage was to take place
in his family which might interest me.
His grand-daughter, Susan Gardner, was on the eve of marriage with one
of the princes of Delhi, and he wished me to witness the ceremony. I was
also invited to pay a visit _en route_ to his son, Mr. James Gardner, who
was married to a niece of the reigning emperor, Akbar Shāh.
Was not this delightful? All my dreams in the Turret of Noor-māhāl were
to be turned into reality. I was to have an opportunity of viewing life
in the zenāna, of seeing the native ladies of the East, women of high
rank, in the seclusion of their own apartments, in private life: and
although the emperors of Delhi have fallen from their high estate, they
and their descendants are nevertheless Timoorians and descendants of
Akbar Shāh.
I know of no European lady but myself, with the exception of one, who has
ever had an opportunity of becoming intimate with native ladies of rank;
and as she had also an invitation to the wedding we agreed to go together.
_21st._—We started dāk for Kutchowra, the residence of Mr. James Gardner.
This is not _that_ Kutchowra which yearly used to bring such treasure
into the Company’s coffers in boat-loads of cotton; but that Kutchowra
which stopped and fought Lord Lake, and killed the famous Major Nairn of
tiger-killing memory.
We arrived at noon the next day; Mr. James Gardner, whom I had never
seen before, received us with much pleasure; his countenance reminded me
of his father, whom, in manner, he greatly resembled; he was dressed in
handsome native attire, a costume he usually wore.
His grounds contain two houses; the outer one, in which he receives
visitors and transacts business, and the second, within four walls, which
is sacred to the Begam, and has its entrance guarded night and day.
Mr. James Gardner married Nuwāb Mulka Humanee Begam, the niece of the
emperor Akbar Shāh, and daughter of Mirza Sulimān Shekō (the brother of
the present emperor), who lives at Agra.
I was taken to the zenāna gates, when three very fine children, the two
sons and a daughter of Mr. James Gardner, and the princess, in their gay
native dresses of silk and satin, embroidered in gold and silver, ran
out to see the new arrival. They were elegant little creatures, and gave
promise of being remarkably handsome. I was surprised to see the little
girl at liberty, but was informed that girls are not shut up until they
are about six years old, until which time they are allowed to run about,
play with the boys, and enjoy their freedom. Quitting the palanquins,
we walked across the court to the entrance of the zenāna; there we took
off our shoes and left them, it being a point of etiquette not to appear
in shoes in the presence of a superior; so much so, that Mr. Gardner
himself was never guilty of the indecorum of wearing shoes or slippers in
the presence of his wife.
The Begam was sitting on a charpāī when we entered the apartment; when
Mrs. B⸺ presented me as the friend of Col. Gardner, she shook hands with
me, and said, “How do you do, kŭrow?”—this was all the English she could
speak. The Begam appeared ill and languid: perhaps the languor was the
effect of opium. I had heard so much of Mulka’s wonderful beauty, that
I felt disappointed: her long black and shining hair, divided in front,
hung down on both sides of her face as low as her bosom, while the rest
of her hair, plaited behind, hung down her back in a long tail.
Her dress consisted of silk pājāmas (full trowsers), over which she wore
a pair of Indian shawls, and ornaments of jewellery were on her hands
and arms. _En passant_, be it said that _ladies_ in the East never wear
petticoats, but full pājāmas: the ayhas, who attend on English ladies in
the capacity of ladies’ maids, wear the petticoat; but it is a sign of
servitude, and only worn to satisfy the ideal delicacy of English ladies,
who dislike to see a female servant without a petticoat. The moment an
ayha quits her mistress, and goes into her own house, she pulls off the
petticoat as a useless incumbrance, and appears in the native trowsers
which she always wears beneath it.
The room in which the Begam received us was the one in which she usually
slept; the floor was covered with a white cloth. She was sitting on a
charpāī (a native bed); and as the natives never use furniture, of course
there was none in the room.
Two or three female attendants stood by her side, fanning her with
large feather fans; the others drove away the mosquitoes and flies with
chaunrīs made of peacocks’ feathers, which are appendages of royalty.
Some opium was brought to her; she took a great bit of it herself, and
put a small bit, the size of half a pea, into the mouth of each of her
young children; she eats much opium daily, and gives it to her children
until they are about six years old.
Native ladies, when questioned on the subject, say, “It keeps them from
taking cold; it is the custom; that is enough, it is the custom.”
If a native lady wish to keep up her reputation for beauty, she should
not allow herself to be seen under the effect of opium by daylight.
When the Princess dismissed us from her presence, she invited us to pay
her a visit in the evening; Mrs. B⸺, with whom she was very intimate, and
to whom she was very partial, said,—“I trust, Mulka Begam, since we are
to obey your commands, and pay you a visit this evening, you will put on
all your ornaments, and make yourself look beautiful.” The Begam laughed,
and said she would do so. On our quitting the apartments, she exclaimed,
“Ah! you English ladies, with your white faces, you run about where you
will, like dolls, and are so happy!” From which speech I conjecture the
princess dislikes the confinement of the four walls. She always spoke
urdū (zaban-i-urdū), the court language, which is Hindostanee, intermixed
largely with Persian; her manners were very pleasing and very ladylike.
So much for the first sight of the Princess Mulka Begam.
The history I heard in the zenāna is as follows: Mulka Begam, the wife
of Mirza Selīm, the brother of Akbar Shāh, was on a visit to her sister,
the beautiful Queen of Oude; his Majesty fell in love with Mulka, and
detained her against her will in the palace; Col. Gardner, indignant at
the conduct of the King, brought Mulka from Lucnow, and placed her in
his own zenāna, under the care of his own Begam. Marriages are generally
dependant on geographical position; the opportunity Mr. James Gardner
had of seeing the Princess, added to her extreme beauty, and the romance
of the affair, was more than he could withstand; he carried her off
from the zenāna. Col. Gardner was extremely angry, and refused to see
or communicate with his son; they lived in the jungle for nearly two
years. One day, Mr. James Gardner, who had tried every method to induce
his father to be reconciled to him in vain, seeing him in a boat, swam
after him, and vowed, unless Col. Gardner would take him into the boat,
he would perish: Colonel Gardner remained unmoved, until, seeing his son
exhausted, and on the point of sinking, paternal feelings triumphed; he
put forth his hand, and saved him. “Whatever a man does who is afflicted
with love, he is to be excused for it[131].”
“Durd ishk-e kushīdu’um ki m ’ purs
Zahir hijree chushīdu’um ki m ’ purs”
...
“Hum ne dil sunum ko dya
Phir kissee ko kya?”
“I have felt the pain of love, ask not of whom:
I have felt the pangs of absence, ask not of whom:”
...
“I have given my heart to my beloved,
What is that to another?”
Mulka was divorced from Mirza Selīm, and legally married to her present
husband. We dined with Mr. Gardner in the outer house; the dinner was of
native dishes, which were most excellent. During the repast, two dishes
were sent over from the Begam, in compliment to her guests, which I was
particularly desired to taste, as the Timoorian ladies pride themselves
on their cookery, and on particular occasions will superintend the making
of the dishes themselves; these dishes were so very unlike, and so
superior to any food I had ever tasted, that I never failed afterwards
to partake of any dish when it was brought to me, with the mysterious
whisper, “It came from within.” It would be incorrect to say, “The Begam
has sent it;” “It came from within,” being perfectly understood by the
initiated.
In the evening we returned to the zenāna, and were ushered into a long
and large apartment, supported down the centre by eight double pillars
of handsome native architecture. The floor of the room was covered with
white cloth; several lamps of brass (chirāgh-dāns) were placed upon
the ground, each stand holding, perhaps, one hundred small lamps. In
the centre of the room a carpet was spread, and upon that the gaddī
and pillows for the Begam; the gaddī or throne of the sovereign is a
long round pillow, which is placed behind the back for support, and two
smaller at the sides for the knees; they are placed upon a small carpet
of velvet, or of kimkhwāb (cloth of gold); the whole richly embroidered
and superbly fringed with gold. Seats of the same description, but plain
and unornamented, were provided for the visitors. A short time after
our arrival, Mulka Begam entered the room, looking like a dazzling
apparition; you could not see her face, she having drawn her dopatta
(veil) over it; her movements were graceful, and the magnificence and
elegance of her drapery were surprising to the eye of a European.
She seated herself on the gaddī, and throwing her dopatta partly off her
face, conversed with us. How beautiful she looked! how very beautiful!
Her animated countenance was constantly varying, and her dark eyes struck
fire when a joyous thought crossed her mind. The languor of the morning
had disappeared; by lamp-light she was a different creature; and I felt
no surprise when I remembered the wondrous tales told by the men of the
beauty of Eastern women. Mulka walks very gracefully, and is as straight
as an arrow. In Europe, how rarely—how very rarely does a woman walk
gracefully! bound up in stays, the body is as stiff as a lobster in its
shell; that snake-like, undulating movement,—the poetry of motion—is
lost, destroyed by the stiffness of the waist and hip, which impedes the
free movement of the limbs. A lady in European attire gives me the idea
of a German mannikin; an Asiatic, in her flowing drapery, recalls the
statues of antiquity.
I had heard of Mulka’s beauty long ere I beheld her, and she was
described to me as the loveliest creature in existence. Her eyes, which
are very long, large, and dark, are remarkably fine, and appeared still
larger from being darkened on the edges of the eyelids with soorma:
natives compare the shape of a fine eye to a mango when cut open. Her
forehead is very fine; her nose delicate, and remarkably beautiful,—so
finely chiselled; her mouth appeared less beautiful, the lips being
rather thin. According to the custom of married women in the East, her
teeth were blackened, and the inside of her lips also, with missee
(antimony); which has a peculiarly disagreeable appearance to my eye, and
may therefore have made me think the lower part of her countenance less
perfectly lovely than the upper: in the eye of a native, this application
of missee adds to beauty. Her figure is tall and commanding; her hair jet
black, very long and straight; her hands and arms are lovely, very lovely.
On the cloth before Mulka were many glass dishes, filled with sweetmeats,
which were offered to the company, with tea and coffee, by her
attendants. Mulka partook of the coffee; her hooqŭ was at her side, which
she smoked now and then; she offered her own hooqŭ to me, as a mark of
favour. A superior or equal has her hooqŭ in attendance, whilst the
bindah khāna furnishes several for the inferior visitors. Mrs. Valentine
Gardner, the wife of Colonel Gardner’s brother, was of the party; she
lives with the Begam.
Mulka’s dress was extremely elegant, the most becoming attire imaginable.
A Musalmānī wears only four garments:—
Firstly, the angīya: a boddice, which fits tight to the bosom, and has
short sleeves; it is made of silk gauze, profusely ornamented.
Secondly, the kurtī: a sort of loose body, without sleeves, which
comes down to the hips; it is made of net, crape, or gauze, and highly
ornamented.
Thirdly, pājāmas: of gold or crimson brocade, or richly-figured silk;
made tight at the waist, but gradually expanding until they reach the
feet, much after the fashion of a fan, where they measure eight yards
eight inches! a gold border finishes the trowser.
Fourthly, the dopatta: which is the most graceful and purely feminine
attire in the world; it is of white transparent gauze, embroidered with
gold, and trimmed with gold at the ends, which have also a deep fringe of
gold and silver.
The dopatta is so transparent it hides not; it merely veils the form,
adding beauty to the beautiful, by its soft and cloud-like folds.
The jewellery sparkles beneath it; and the outline of its drapery is
continually changing according to the movements or coquetry of the
wearer. Such was the attire of the Princess! Her head was covered with
pearls and precious stones, most gracefully arranged: from the throat
to the waist was a succession of strings of large pearls and precious
stones; her arms and hands were covered with armlets, bracelets, and
rings innumerable. Her delicate and uncovered feet were each decorated
with two large circular anklets composed of gold and precious stones,
and golden rings were on her toes. In her nose she wore a n’hut, a
large thin gold ring, on which was strung two large pearls, with a ruby
between them. A nose-ring is a love token, and is always presented by the
bridegroom to the bride. No single woman is allowed to wear one.
In her youth Mulka learned to read and write in Persian, but since her
marriage has neglected it. Music is considered disgraceful for a lady of
rank, dancing the same—such things are left to nāch women. Mulka made
enquiries concerning the education of young ladies in England; and on
hearing how many hours were devoted to the piano, singing, and dancing,
she expressed her surprise, considering such nāch-like accomplishments
degrading.
A native gentleman, describing the points of beauty in a woman, thus
expressed himself:
“Barā barā nāk, barā barā ānkh, munh jaisa chānd, khūb bhāri aisa.” A
very very large nose, very very large eyes, a face like the moon; very
very portly, thus!—stretching out his arms as if they could not at their
fullest extent encircle the mass of beauty he was describing!
When a woman’s movements are considered peculiarly graceful, it is often
remarked, “She walks like a goose, or a drunken elephant.” “One must
behold Laīlī with the eyes of Majnūn[132].”
Mr. Gardner has a fine estate at Kutchowra, with an indigo plantation:
his establishment is very large, and completely native. I imagine he is
greatly assisted in the management of his estate by the advice of the
Begam: with the exception of this, she appears to have little to amuse
her. Her women sit round her working, and she gives directions for her
dresses. Eating opium and sleeping appear to occupy much of her time.
Sometimes her slaves will bring the silver degchas and hāndīs (small
caldrons and cooking pots) to her, and, guided by her instructions, will
prepare some highly-esteemed dish, over charcoal in a little moveable
fire-place, called an angethī.
Her husband, who is very proud of her, often speaks of her being a
descendant of Timur the Tartar. Timurlane, as we call him, which is a
corruption of Timurlung, or the lame Timur: he was a shepherd, and as
he sat on the mountain one day watching his flocks, a fakīr came up,
who, striking him on the leg, said, “Arise, and be King of the World.”
He did so, but was lame ever after from the blow. The Timoorians are
remarkable for their long, large, and fine eyes. English dresses are
very unbecoming, both to Europeans and Asiatics. A Musulmanī lady is a
horror in an English dress; but an English woman is greatly improved by
wearing a native one, the attire itself is so elegant, so feminine, and
so graceful.
Mr. Gardner gave me a room within the four walls of the zenāna, which
afforded me an excellent opportunity of seeing native life. At first
the strong scent of atr of roses was quite overpowering, absolutely
disagreeable, until I became reconciled to it by habit.
The Muhammadans, both male and female, are extremely fond of perfumes
of every sort and description; and the quantity of atr of roses, atr of
jasmine, atr of khas-khās, &c., that the ladies in a zenāna put upon
their garments is quite overpowering.
The prophet approved of scents: “Next to women he liked horses, and next
to horses perfumes.” Ja’bir-bin-Samurah said, “I performed noon-day
prayer with his majesty; after that, he came out of the masjid; and some
children came before him, and he rubbed their cheeks in a most kind
manner with his blessed hand, one after another. Then his majesty touched
my cheek, and I smelt so sweet a smell from it, that you might say he had
just taken it out of a pot of perfumes.”
Mulka Begam, and all the females in attendance on her, stained their
hands and feet with menhdī. Aa’yeshah said, “Verily, a woman said, ‘O
prophet of God! receive my obedience.’ He said, ‘I will not receive your
profession, until you alter the palms of your hands; that is, colour them
with hinà; for without it one might say they were the hands of tearing
animals.’” Aa’yeshah said, “A woman from behind a curtain made a sign of
having a letter; and his highness drew away his hand and said, ‘I do not
know whether this is the hand of a man or a woman.’ The woman said, ‘It
is a woman’s.’ His highness said, ‘Were you a woman, verily you would
change the colour of your nails with hinà.’”
To the slave girls I was myself an object of curiosity. They are never
allowed to go beyond the four walls, and the arrival of an English
lady was a novelty. I could never dress myself but half a dozen were
slily peeping in from every corner of the pardas (screens), and their
astonishment at the number and shape of the garments worn by a European
was unbounded!
Ladies of rank are accustomed to be put to sleep by a slave who
relates some fairy tale. To be able to invent and relate some romantic
or hobgoblin adventure, in an agreeable manner, is a valuable
accomplishment. I have often heard the monotonous tone with which women
of this description lulled the Begam to sleep. To invent and relate
stories and fables is the only employment of these persons. The male
slaves put their masters to sleep in the same fashion.
Native beds (charpāī) are about one foot high from the ground; people of
rank have the feet of these couches covered with thick plates of gold
or silver, which is handsomely embossed with flowers. A less expensive,
but still a very pretty sort, are of Bareilly work, in coloured flowers;
some are merely painted red, green, or yellow; and those used by the poor
are of plain mango wood. From the highest to the lowest the shape is
all the same, the difference is in the material and the workmanship; no
posts, no curtains. The seat of the bed is formed of newār (broad cotton
tape), skilfully interlaced, drawn up tight as a drum-head, but perfectly
elastic. It is the most luxurious couch imaginable, and a person
accustomed to the charpāī of India will spend many a restless night ere
he can sleep with comfort on an English bed.
A Musalmānī lady will marry an English gentleman, but she will not
permit him to be present during the time of meals. Mr. Gardner and Mulka
have three children, two boys and a girl; they are remarkably handsome,
intelligent children, and appeared as gay and happy as possible. They
always wore rich native dresses,—a most becoming style of attire. The
name of the eldest is Sulīman, the second is William Linnæus, and the
little girl is called Noshaba Begam.
When I retired to my charpāī, my dreams were haunted by visions of the
splendour of the Timoorians in former days; the palace at Agra, and the
beautiful Begam with whom I had spent the evening.
_23rd._—Mr. Gardner proposed a chītā or cheeta hunt: he had a fine
hunting leopard; we went out to look for antelopes; the day was very hot,
we had no success, and returned very much fagged; Mrs. B⸺ was laid up in
consequence with an ague. There was a fine elephant at Kutchowra, a great
number of horses, and a few dogs.
The next morning I spent an hour with the Begam, and took leave of her;
it is difficult to find her awake, she sleeps so much from opium. If you
call on a native lady, and she does not wish to receive a visitor, the
attendants always say, “The lady is asleep,—” equivalent to Not at home.
Sometimes she employs herself in needle-work, and her attendants sit
around, and net kurtīs for her on a sort of embroidery frame.
It may be as well to remark, that the opium given by the Begam to her
children was remarkably fine and pure; grown in her own garden, and
collected daily from incisions made in the pod of the deep red poppy.
On my departure, the Begam presented me with a beautifully embroidered
batū’ā (a small bag) full of spices; it was highly ornamented, and
embroidered in gold and silver, interwoven with coloured beads.
She wished me to put on churees, which are bracelets made of
_sealing-wax_, ornamented with beads; they are extremely pretty, but of
little value. I consented, and the churees were put on in this manner:
a churee, having been cut open with a hot knife, it was heated over a
charcoal fire, opened a little—just enough to allow it to pass over the
arm; it was then closed, and the two ends were united by being touched
with a hot knife. I wore these churees until they broke and dropped off,
in memory of my first visit to the zenāna.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
LIFE IN THE ZENĀNA, AND CHĪTĀ HUNTING.
“TEN DURWESH MAY SLEEP UNDER THE SAME BLANKET, BUT TWO KINGS CANNOT EXIST
IN ONE KINGDOM[133].”
“A CONTEMPORARY WIFE, THOUGH A HOORI, IS WORSE THAN A SHE DEVIL[134].”
Plurality of Wives—Intrigues and Hatred—Arrival at
Khāsgunge—The Four Walls—Arwarī Shooting—The Pūtlī-nāch—The
Lynx—Introduction to Colonel Gardner’s Begam—The Morning
Star—The Evening Star—The Nawab of Cambay—The beautiful
Gardens—The Bara Deri—Rattler—Chītā Hunting—Antelopes—The sulky
Chītā—Heera Sing—Chītā Hunting attended by native Ladies.
1835, _Feb._—When a woman of rank marries, two female slaves are given
with her, who are also the wives of her husband: this is so completely a
custom it is never omitted: nevertheless, “The very voice of a rival wife
is intolerable[135].”
A number of women are considered to add to a man’s dignity: they add to
his misery most decidedly. This custom being more honoured in the breach
than the observance, was not put in force at the marriage of Mr. Gardner
with Mulka Begam. “The malice of a fellow-wife is notorious[136].” It
would only be surprising if such were not the case. “A contemporary wife
is intolerable, even in effigy[137].” In native life the greatest misery
is produced from a plurality of wives: they, very naturally, hate each
other most cordially, and quarrel all day. The children, also, from their
cradles are taught to hate the children of the other wives; nevertheless,
the following extract proves, that _she_ is considered a wife worthy of
praise, who loves the offspring of her husband and another woman:—
“A woman may be married by four qualifications; one, on account of her
money; another, on account of the nobility of her pedigree; another, on
account of her beauty; the fourth, on account of her faith: therefore,
look out for a religious woman; but if you do it from any other
consideration, may your hands be rubbed in dirt.”—“The world and all
things in it are valuable; but the most valuable thing in the world is
a virtuous woman.”—“The best women, that ride on camels, I mean the
women of Arabia, are the virtuous of the Koreish; they are the most
affectionate to infants, whether they be their own or their husband’s by
other women; and they are the most careful of their husband’s property.”
The proverb is at variance with the opinion of the prophet, since the
former asserts, “A contemporary wife may be good, but her child is
bad[138].” As the means of power over their husbands, native women value
their children very much, and are miserable if they have none.
A zenāna is a place of intrigue, and those who live within four walls
cannot pursue a straight path: how can it be otherwise, where so many
conflicting passions are called forth? If a man make a present to one
wife, he must make a similar offering to all the rest, to preserve peace
and quietness. The wives must have separate houses or apartments; were
it not so, they would agree as well as caged tigers. The kur’ān permits
a Musalmān to have _four_ wives; the proverb says, “The man is happy who
has no she goat[139].” Atàa records, that the prophet had _nine_ wives;
and from Safíah, who was the last of them who died, he wished to be
divorced; but she said, “Keep me with your wives, and do not divorce me,
peradventure I may be of the number of your wives in paradise.”
Some authorities assert, that the prophet had eighteen wives: Atàa only
mentions nine. To recompense his warlike followers for allowing them only
four wives each, he gives them the mutâh marriage for any period they may
choose with the wives of their enemies taken in battle.
In the beginning of Islàm, the followers of the prophet, the shī’as
were allowed to marry for a limited time; this temporary marriage was
called mutâh. “Verily the prophet prohibited, on the day of the battle
of Khaiber, a mutâh marriage, which is for a fixed time, and he forbade
the eating of the flesh of the domestic ass.” “His highness permitted,
in the year in which he went to Awtàs, mutâh for three days; after which
he forbade it.” At length a revelation came down which rendered every
connexion of the sort unlawful for the faithful, “excepting the captives
which their right hands possess.”
If a woman of high rank and consequence has no heir, this farce is often
played. The lady appears to expect one; she is fattened up in the same
curious manner in which they fatten their horses: five or six low caste
women, who really expect children about the same time, are secreted in
the zenāna: when one of them is delivered of a son, the Begam takes it,
the farce of an accouchement is acted, and the child is produced as the
heir; the real mamma has 500 rupees (£50) given her,—and perhaps a dose
of poison to secure her silence.
The father of Mulka Begam, the Huzūr Mirza Sulimān Shekō, the brother
of the present Emperor of Delhi, resides at Agra, on a pension from
Government; he has children innumerable, all young princes and
princesses; there are, it is said, some forty of his children now alive,
proud and poor. By Mulka’s first marriage with Mirza Selīm, the second
son of the present King of Delhi, she had three children. The first
wife of the King of Oude is a sister of Mulka’s, and is reckoned more
beautiful than even Mulka herself.
_24th._—We drove over to Khāsgunge, Colonel Gardner’s residence, thirteen
miles, over roads that were hardly passable. On our arrival, we found
our dear friend seated on the steps in front of his house, with many
gentlemen, both English and native, around him. I thought I had never
seen so dignified and graceful a person; he was dressed in a lubāda of
red figured Indian shawl, the rest of the dress was English, but the
style of the lubāda was particularly good, and suited to an old man; his
half brother, Mr. Valentine Gardner, was with him, also an old nawāb from
Cambay.
Colonel Gardner has a fine estate at Khāsgunge; the outer house is
dedicated to his friends and English acquaintance; within four high walls
is the barā-deri, or pavilion, in the centre of the zenāna gardens, in
which his begam resides.
Apartments were given to my husband and me in the outer house, where the
English visitors resided. The dinners at first consisted of European, as
well as native dishes; but the latter were so excellent, I soon found it
impossible to partake of dishes dressed after the English fashion, and as
all the guests were of the same opinion, Colonel Gardner had the kindness
to banish European dishes from the table.
I must not forget to mention the arwarī fish, the finest and most
delicious I ever tasted; the Kālā-naddī is famed for its arwarī, a sort
of mullet; the fish delights to bask in the sun, floating on the surface
of the water. Colonel Gardner kept two shīkarees (native sportsmen),
for the purpose of shooting these fish; one man fired, and the other
instantly plunged into the water, and brought out the fish that were
killed or stunned. The Musalmāns object to eating fish having no scales;
such fish was also forbidden to the Jews.
In the evening, the native mimics came to perform before us; they
imitated Europeans very well, and mimicked the gentlemen of the party.
A pūtlī-nāch was afterwards brought forward; I was surprised to see
the natives, young and old, so eager and fond of this absurdity, until
Colonel Gardner said, “The natives are madly fond of this pūtlī-nāch;
indeed, it is all the English have left them of their former glory. You
see, represented by puppets, Shāhjahān and all his Court and Durbar:
one puppet is brought forward, and the manager, whilst it bows to the
audience, relates the whole history of the minister whom it represents;
giving a true account of his pedigree, riches, influence, &c. At this
moment, standing behind my chair, at a salary of four rupees a month,
is the lineal descendant of one of the first lords in the Court of
Shāhjahān. The managers of the show mix up infinite wit with their
relation of events, and sarcasms on the English.”
After this explanation, I could see the reason of the fondness of the
old natives for this puppet-show, which before, in my ignorance, I had
not comprehended. One by one every puppet is brought forward, and its
history recounted. This evening fatigued me a good deal; we sat under the
verandah to see the sights, the glare of the torches was painful to my
eyes, and the noise made my head ache.
_27th._—A lynx (the caracal), the property of Colonel Gardner, a most
extraordinary looking beast, killed a goa samp: I was told, the animal
catches crows by springing several feet into the air after them as they
rise from the ground.
The cheeta, or chītā, (hunting leopard), killed two antelopes: some nāch
girls danced and sang in the evening, and thus closed the day.
My husband, who had accompanied me to Khāsgunge, now took leave of
Colonel Gardner, and returned to Allahabad, leaving me with our dear
friend to witness the Muhammadan marriage ceremonies. My husband quitted
us with regret, being obliged to depart on account of the expiration of
his leave of absence.
Colonel Gardner married Nawab Matmunzel ool Nissa Begam, of the Cambay
family; she resides in the house or pavilion within the four walls, with
her relatives, attendants, and slaves. This morning the Begam sent word
she would receive visitors in the evening; Colonel Gardner took me over,
and introduced me to her as his adopted daughter; she rose and embraced
me, putting her cheek to mine on each side the face, after the fashion of
the French, and her arms around me: having received her guests, she sat
down on her gaddī of purple velvet, embroidered with gold; and we seated
ourselves on plain white gaddīs on either side.
The Begam is a very lively little old woman; she was magnificently
dressed in pearls, diamonds, and emeralds,—as many as it was possible to
put on her little body; she wore a peshwāz, or very short full gown, with
a tight body, made of red and gold Benares tissue; this is a dress Of
state; pigāmās of silk; and, over all, a dopatta of red and gold Benares
tissue, which, as she sat, covered her entirely; and she looked more like
a lump of glittering gold and crimson and pearls, than a living woman.
A golden hooqŭ, with four nā’echas (snakes) was placed before her on a
hooqŭ carpet of raised flowers, curiously cut out in paper. The room was
covered with a carpet, over which white cloths were spread after the
usual fashion, and the lamps all stood on the ground.
At the other end of the room sat fourteen slave girls, belonging to the
Begam, who played on different instruments, whilst one or two of them
nāched before us.
The ladies of the family were seated on the Begam’s left hand.
There was Hinga Beebee Sāhiba, the Widow of Allan Gardner, the eldest son
of Colonel Gardner; her eldest daughter, Hirmoozee, married Mr. Stuart
William Gardner, an officer in the 28th Native Infantry, and son of
Admiral Francis Gardner, a relative of Colonel Gardner’s.
Her second daughter, Susan, generally called Shubbeah Begam, was not
present; being engaged to be married to a young Prince of Delhi, she was
kept in pārda. At her feet were the two daughters of James Gardner by a
former marriage; the eldest, Alaida (the Morning Star), about fifteen
years old, very fair, with a round pretty face; but her great charm was a
remarkably sweet and interesting manner; she of them all was the one whom
Colonel Gardner best loved; and indeed she was a sweet girl. Her younger
sister (the Evening Star) was darker than Alaida, pretty and lively.
They, like the Begam, had Tartar faces, in which the eyes are wide apart;
but were both, nevertheless, very pretty and interesting girls.
Two English gentlemen, who were fond of native life, and fascinated with
Khasgunge, requested me to mention to Colonel Gardner their wish to
become of his family; I did so. Colonel Gardner replied, “Shubbeah is
engaged to the Prince:” but, said I, “Do you think she likes him?” “How
little you know of the natives!” he replied; “it would be considered
the greatest indelicacy for a girl to prefer one man to another, or
to have seen the man to whom she is to be united. Tell Mr. ⸺ I am
flattered by his wish to be of my family, and would willingly give him my
grand-daughter, but the Begam is bent on this _grand alliance_, as _she_
considers it: I have withheld my consent for years; ‘The house may be
filled with the falling of drops[140];’ _i.e._ continual dripping wears
away stones. She has carried the point. I have been happy in my marriage,
but I would not advise an European gentleman to marry a native lady. With
respect to the proposals of the other gentleman, in a worldly point of
view it would be a good match; but I do not like the man; I cannot bestow
upon him the Morning Star.”
Bānā Beebee Sāhiba was also there; in her younger days she must have been
pretty; her liveliness she still retained.
The guests smoked the hooqŭ, and ate pān; some very delicate pān was
prepared for me, of which I partook for the first time, and rather liked
it.
At the end of the evening, the Begam gave her guests liberty to depart;
pān and atr of roses were presented to us; rose-water was sprinkled over
us; we made salām in due form, and returned to the outer house.
The Begam has a guard of honour of forty men, who live at the entrance of
the zenāna, and guard the gateway night and day.
I must not forget the old Nawāb of Cambay, the uncle of the Begam; he is
quite a character, and a very singular one; he has visited England; he
used to dine at the table with us, and would take sherry with the guests.
When a lady was at table he would take sherry; if gentlemen only were
present, the sherry was discarded for brandy: one day I observed he drank
some white spirit, and found it was a strong spirit he himself distilled
from different flowers: to my surprise, he used also to play backgammon.
Natives have names and titles innumerable, of which his are a good
specimen: Fakhr-ul-dawla Moomtaj ul Moolk Nawab Meer Momun Khan Bahadur
Delme Delawor Jung.
Colonel Gardner’s name is William Linnæus, so called after his godfather,
the great botanist; he is himself an excellent botanist, and pursues the
study with much ardour. His garden at Khāsgunge is a very extensive and
a most delightful one, full of fine trees and rare plants, beautiful
flowers and shrubs, with fruit in abundance and perfection; no expense is
spared to embellish the garden: in the centre is a delightful pavilion,
under the shade of fine trees. It is one of the pleasures of the Begam
and her attendants to spend the day in that garden: guards are then
stationed around it, to prevent intrusion. She is herself extremely fond
of flowers, and, although not a botanist, after the European fashion, she
knows the medicinal qualities of all the Indian plants, and the dyes that
can be produced from them; and this knowledge is of daily account in the
zenāna.
_March 1st._—Took a gallop on a fine English horse, Rattler by name;
being accustomed to ride Arabs, this great monster appeared like a frisky
mountain under me.
_2nd._—Mr. James Gardner invited us to return to his house at Kutchowra,
that we might enjoy chītā hunting. We drove over, and in the evening some
nāch women exhibited before us for our amusement.
_3rd._—In the early morning I mounted a white pony, and we all rode out
eight miles to breakfast in a tent which had been sent out over night.
After breakfast the party got into the buggies.
We went directly across the country; there were no roads,—over banks,
and through ditches, where it appeared a miracle we were not upset. We
came to a deep, narrow, stone water-course: my companion said, “If you
will get out of the buggy, I will leap the mare over; if I attempt to
walk her over, she will be sure to get her foot in, and break her leg.”
I got out accordingly; away went the mare; she took a leap at the drain,
and carried the buggy over in excellent style. Buggies in India have the
remarkable faculty of leaping, being accustomed to such freaks.
We arrived at the estate of a native gentleman, called Petumber, where,
on the plain, we saw a herd of about three hundred antelopes, bounding,
running, and playing in the sunshine; and a severe sun it was, enough
to give one a brain fever, in spite of the leather hood of the buggy.
The antelopes are so timid, they will not allow a buggy to come very
near the herd; therefore being determined to see the hunt, we got out
of the carriage and mounted upon the hackery (cart) on which the cheetā
was carried, without even an umbrella, lest it should frighten the deer.
The cheetā had a hood over his eyes and a rope round his loins, and two
natives, his keepers, were with him.
I sat down by accident on the animal’s tail:—O-o-o-wh, growled the
cheetā. I did not wait for another growl, but released his tail
instantly. The bullock hackery was driven into the midst of the herd.
The bandage was removed from the eyes of the cheetā, and the cord from
his body: he dropped from the cart and bounded, with the most surprising
bounds, towards an immense black buck, seized him by the throat, flung
him on the ground, and held him there. The keepers went up, they cut the
buck’s throat, and then they cut off the haunch of the hind leg, and,
dipping a wooden spoon into the cavity, offered it full of blood to the
cheetā. Nothing but this would have induced the cheetā to quit the throat
of the buck. He followed the men to the cart, jumped upon it, drank
the blood, and the men then put his bandage over his eyes. The haunch
was put into the back of the cart, the reward for the animal when the
hunting was over. The herd had passed on; we followed, taking care the
wind did not betray our approach. The cheetā was leaning against me in
the hackery, and we proceeded very sociably. Another herd of antelopes
went bounding near us, the cheetā’s eyes were unbound again, and the
rope removed from his loins; a fine buck passed, we expected he would
instantly pursue it as usual, but the animal turned sulky, and instead
of dropping down from the hackery, he put both his fore-paws on my lap
and stood there two or three seconds with his face and whiskers touching
my cheek. O-o-o-wh—O-o-o-wh, growled the cheetā!—my heart beat faster,
but I sat perfectly quiet, as you may well imagine, whilst I thought to
myself, “If he seize my throat, he will never leave it until they cut off
my hind quarter, and give him a bowl of blood!” His paws were as light
on my lap as those of a cat. How long the few seconds appeared whilst
I eyed him askance! Nor was I slightly glad when the cheetā dropped to
the ground, where he crouched down sulkily and would not hunt. He was a
very fine-tempered animal, but they are all uncertain. I did not like his
being quite so near when he was unfastened and _sulky_.
The next time I took care to get off the cart before the creature was
freed from restraint. It is painful to witness a cheetā hunt, the
beautiful antelope has so little chance of escape.
During the day, we killed three fine antelopes; the horns of one of
them, remarkably large, with five turns on them, I brought to England.
We rested under some trees by a well to partake of tiffin, when one of
the party observed, “This wood and well are remarkable. Heera Sing, the
father of Petumber, was a Thug, and made by Thuggee a large fortune. In
this plantation and by the side of this very well his people used to wait
for travellers, lure them to the shade and water to refresh themselves,
strangle them, and cast their bodies into the well.
“After having amassed a fortune, Heera Sing repented, and gave orders
that life should not be taken on his estate. He would not allow the
antelopes to be killed; and his son having followed his example, accounts
for the large herds of antelopes we have found here: it is an excellent
preserve.” We then returned home; I was almost dead with the heat, having
been out in such a powerful sun during a drive of about thirty miles.
Mulka Begam sometimes goes out cheetā hunting in a native carriage, drawn
by two magnificent bullocks, adorned with crimson housings, and their
horns covered with plates of gold.
In this manner the princess can behold the sport, and enter into the
amusement, while she is completely secluded from the profane eye of man.
CHAPTER XXXV.
FATHĪPOOR SICRI AND COLONEL GARDNER.
Pilgrimage of Akbar Shāh to Fathīpoor Sicri—Shaikh Selīm
Cheestie—The Jodh Baā’ī—Birth of Selim—The Tomb of the
Saint—The Gateway—A Tradition—The Temple of Magic—The
Zenāna—The Pachīsī Board—The Mint—Akbārābādee Rupees and Gold
Mohurs—The Elephant Minār—A Child destroyed by a Wolf—Tomb of
the Jodh Bā’ī—Agra built by Akbar—Sketches of remarkable Living
Characters in India—Legality of a Marriage between a Christian
and one of the Faithful—Colonel Gardner’s Letter—Letter
of Colonel Tod—Insult offered by Holkar—Colonel Gardner’s
Marriage—Tomb of Colonel Hessing—Cure of Influenza within the
Four Walls—Death in a Steam-Bath.
1835, _March_.—The wedding having been deferred for a short time, I took
the opportunity of returning dāk to Agra, having promised Colonel Gardner
to be at Khāsgunge again in time to witness the ceremony. All this time
my pretty pinnace had been awaiting my arrival. I determined to send
her back to Allahabad with the cook-boat, and she sailed immediately. I
also sent back the carriage and horses, keeping the buggy, Bokharu, the
grey and black horse, to accompany me to Khāsgunge. The dāk trip gave
me a severe cough and cold, and on my reaching Agra I was little fit
for exertion. However, a party was proposed to visit Fathīpoor Sicri,
formerly the residence of Akbar Shāh; my curiosity prevailed, and,
notwithstanding my illness, I consented to accompany them.
_11th._—Chār vajr, barī fajr, _i.e._ four o’clock A.M., I was ready
to start: the party of four dwindled to two, the others being laid up
with influenza, and unable to quit their beds. My relative, Mr. D⸺,
drove me over: tents and provisions had been sent on before. In spite
of my illness I was delighted with Fathīpoor Sicri. The gateway, with
its superb flight of steps, is a beautiful object; it is built on a
fine commanding site. The buildings, which are very extensive, are on
high ground; and from an immense quarry on the spot, they daily convey
quantities of stone to all parts of India. The Fort of Agra is built of
this stone.
Before I say more of the place, I must relate an anecdote of the founder.
Akbar Shāh was extremely unhappy and deeply grieved at being childless.
Hearing of the fame of a fakīr who lived at Fathīpoor Sicri, and of the
wonderful birth of a child to a couple of poor manufacturers of pottery
ware, who lived at that place, from the power of the prayers of the holy
man: hearing all this, he determined to make a pilgrimage to Fathīpoor;
_àpropos_, the house of the kumhār (potter) and his descendants are still
shown to visitors. Akbar commenced his hājī (pilgrimage), but, like all
the race of Timur, being rather lame, he found two miles a day (one kos)
as much as he could accomplish; therefore, at every day’s resting-place
he ordered a kos minār to be erected, which now serve as mile-stones. Two
of these minārs I saw between Agra and Secundra on my visit to his tomb,
as before-mentioned. On his arrival at Sicri, he consulted the holy man
Shāh Selīm Cheestie; and, in pursuance of his advice, the Empress, the
Jodh Bā’ī, was brought to live at Fathīpoor. She was the daughter of Oodi
Sing of Jodhpoor. Her zenāna, inclosed within four walls, is still to be
seen. The prayers of the holy man were heard, and the Jodh Bā’ī presented
Akbar with a son, who, in honour of _the saint, I suppose_, was called
Selīm, which name was afterwards almost forgotten in the appellation of
Jahāngeer, the Conqueror of the World. In the Fort of Agra there are
still the remains of the Selīm Ghar built by Akbar.
The Emperor, charmed at the birth of a son, bestowed lands and showered
rupees upon the sagacious fakīr; and the greatest ornament of the place
is,
THE TOMB OF SHAIKH SELĪM CHEESTIE.
This beautiful mausoleum, in the centre of the quadrangle, is still in a
state of the most perfect preservation; it is of white marble; the open
work of the screen is of the most exquisite workmanship. The descendants
of the shaikh still live at Sicri, and gain large sums by showing the
tomb of the holy man, whose name is held in the highest veneration.
The coffin, containing the mortal remains of the saint, is within the
building, and is covered with a large pall of silk and brocade. When
speaking of the Shaikh they continually denominated him Shāh Selīm
Cheestie. The annexed sketch will give an idea of the outline of the
tomb, and of the beauty of the fretwork of its walls of marble.
[Illustration: THE TOMB OF SHAIKH SELIM CHEESTIE.
فاني پارکس]
In 1570, Akbar founded Fathīpoor Sicri, the City of Victory. Colonel
Sleeman mentions, “The quadrangle which contains the mosque on the west
side, and the tomb of the old hermit in the centre, was completed in
the year 1578, six years before his death; and is, perhaps, one of the
finest in the world. It is five hundred and seventy-five feet square, and
surrounded by a high wall, with a magnificent cloister all around within.
On the outside is a magnificent gateway, at the top of a noble flight of
steps, twenty-four feet high. The whole gateway is one hundred and twenty
feet in height, and the same in breadth, and presents beyond the wall
five sides of an octagon, of which the front face is eighty feet wide:
the arch in the centre of this space is sixty feet high by forty wide. On
the right side of the entrance is engraven on stone, in large letters,
standing out in bas relief, the following passage in Arabic: ‘Jesus, on
whom be peace, has said, The world is merely a bridge; you are to pass
over it, and not to build your dwellings upon it.’
“Where this saying of Christ is to be found, I know not, nor has any
Muhammadan yet been able to tell me; but the quoting of such a passage
in such a place is a proof of the absence of all bigotry on the part of
Akbar.”
The mosque within the quadrangle was finished in 1576, and Akbar’s three
sons were born in the houses of the saint.
A very intelligent person, by name Bisharut Ali, who acted as cicerone,
was much pleased to show off the place, and relate his wonderful stories.
Amongst other traditions, he told me that, “in former times, Fathīpoor
Sicri was infested with wild beasts, and the people who came to see
the saint marvelled he was not afraid to live in such a wilderness;
the next day, they found a lion and a wolf at the holy man’s door; the
lion walking up and down and keeping guard, and the wolf brushing away
the dust and dirt before the habitation of the saint”—with his tail,
I suppose, for they say nothing of a broom. This Bisharut Ali is a
pensioner on three rupees eight ānās a month; his profile, and that of
Mulka Begam’s, who is a descendant of Akbar’s, were so much alike, that
I could not help asking him if he were of Selīm Cheestie’s family? He
replied, “No; my ancestor was the teacher (oostād) of the saint!”
There is much to visit at this place: the mosque, the numerous tombs, and
also a very curious building, in which the council of the nation was held.
The place that most interested my imagination was the Temple of Magic,
in which Akbar used to study. How much the Emperor, who was greatly
addicted to the art, must have been interested in casting the nativity
of the _sons of his pilgrimage_, and in the important task of selecting
fortunate names!
On the birth of the heir, the City of Victory must have resounded with
the roar of cannon, in honour of the happy event; even the poorest
Musulmān testifies his rejoicing on such an occasion by firing off a
matchlock; but should the offspring be a girl, the cannon is silent,
and no matchlocks are in requisition. There are five different modes of
naming children, two of which are as follow:—
Sometimes the infant obtains the name of some one of the family, as that
of the parent’s father, (it is not customary among Musulmāns to give
their own names to their children,) the grandfather, great-grandfather,
or the tutelary saint venerated in the family; hence the name of Selīm
was given to the first-born of the Emperor.
“Amongst some people it is customary to choose a name from among those
that begin with the same letter which is found at the commencement or
termination of the name of the planet in whose hour the child is born.
In order to ascertain this, it is requisite to consult the horoscope of
nativity[141].” The planets, seven in number,—namely, the Sun, Venus,
Mercury, the Moon, Saturn, Jupiter, and Mars, are supposed to preside
over the twenty-four hours of the day and night, and to exert many
favourable and unfavourable influences on the human race. With what
anxiety must the great magician Akbar have consulted the horoscope, to
ascertain under the reign of what particular planet his son was born!
With what care he must have cast his nativity, and thereby predicted his
future destiny!
The ladies of the zenāna were not only followers of the prophet, but
Rajpūtnees were admitted, Akbar considering it good policy to marry
the daughter of a subjugated Hindoo prince. Beauty, also, was and is
sufficient to give the possessor a chance of gaining the rank of Begam. I
went over the zenāna with much interest, and thought of the innumerable
ceremonies that must have been observed within its walls.
Particular rites take place on the fortieth day after the birth of a
child, which is esteemed an important festival; the mother is then
allowed to touch the kurān, and enter the masjid. In fancy, I beheld the
Jodh Bā’ī taken out into the air, with the “child of the pilgrimage” in
her arms, that she might count a few stars; after which, according to
Muhammadan custom, her attendants would shoot off two arrows into the air.
With what care the Emperor must have selected verses from the kurān, to
engrave in the Arabic character upon tablets, called tawīzī; destined to
adorn the person of the infant prince, and to guard him as a spell! These
tablets, which are of gold or silver, are strung on a long cord of gold
thread, and suspended over one shoulder of a child, crossing his body,
and hanging down on the other side below the hip.
The pachīsī-board gives one a glimpse of the manner in which the great
Akbar spent his time amongst his lady-loves; the pachīsī-board is in an
open court of the zenāna; the squares of the board are formed of coloured
marbles, and on so large a scale, that women were used as _counters_.
Imagine the great Akbar playing at pachīsī with eight cowries, and
sixteen ladies of the zenāna squatting down on the squares of the board
as counters! Jīta rako Akbar!
The game is played with eight cowries, or with three long narrow dice,
and so named from the highest throw, which is twenty-five. The shape of
the board is a cross, covered with squares, alternately of a different
colour. The natives have them made of red and purple cloth, which can be
folded up, and easily carried about; they are passionately fond of this
game, and play it at the Dewālī. The counters are sixteen in number, in
sets of four, each set of a different colour.
Adjoining the temple of the magician is the anannās-i-ghur, built in the
shape of a pine-apple (anannās), as the natives aver.
The taksāl (the mint) is at this place; in it rupees were first coined;
unlike the circular rupees of the present day, those coined by Akbar are
square; he also coined square gold mohurs, and eight ānā pieces of the
same form. The square rupee, if _without a blemish_, is reckoned of great
value; it is used in conjuring the truth out of thieves, who are much
afraid of it, and often confess the truth from a belief in its virtue.
If a rich native can obtain one of Akbar’s rupees, or, what is better, an
akbārābādee gold mohur, he puts it away with his hoard of riches, firmly
believing that by its virtue robbers will be prevented from discovering
his gold. There is an old saying, “To get possession of the wealth
without disturbing the snake that guards it[142].” The square rupee
appears to act chaukidār as well as the snake. An akbārābādee rupee and
an eight ānā piece were procured at Sicri, and added to my museum. The
mint has been dug up in every direction by treasure-hunters.
In the plate entitled “Superstitions of the Natives,” No. 5 represents
the rupee, and No. 4 the eight ānā piece; No. 7 is an akbārābādee gold
mohur, which I purchased at Allahabad. The manner in which these coins
are used for the detection of theft has been fully explained in the
“Trial by Rice,” page 40.
There is a remarkable entrance called the Elephant Gate, below which is
the Elephant Minār, to which we walked by moonlight; on the top of this
minār Akbar used to sit; game, of all descriptions, was driven towards
it from the surrounding country, which the Emperor from that spot could
shoot at his ease. “When death approaches the game, it goes towards the
sportsman[143].” This tower is studded with elephants’ tusks, carved in
white stone.
The people showed me the skin of a leopard that was shot a year ago
amongst the ruins. I requested my companion during this ramble to take a
stick, for fear of the wolves, who, the week before, had torn a native
child to pieces under the walls; the bones and bangles of the poor child
had been brought to my companion, who was the magistrate.
The tomb of the Jhod Bā’ī, who was a Rajpootnee daughter of the Hindoo
chief of Jhodpore, by tradition beautiful and amiable, is still to be
seen on the Chand-maree, the artillery practice ground, a few miles from
Fathīpoor Sicri. It was in ruins, but still you could trace its form
and dome. Some artillery officers, out of pure idleness and ignorance,
I suppose, about a year ago, blew up the dome of this tomb by way of
getting rid of some damaged powder! The sacrilege of destroying the tomb
of the mother of Jahāngeer, and the wife of Akbar Shāh!
The whole of the buildings at Sicri were built by Akbar; at this place he
resided, and held his court: it is most interesting to wander over the
ruins.
In the “Rambles of an Indian Official” it is mentioned,—“Sheikh Saleem
had, he declared, gone more than twenty times on pilgrimage to the tomb
of the holy prophet; and was not much pleased to have his repose so much
disturbed by all the noise and bustle of the imperial court. At last,
Akbar wanted to surround the hill by regular fortifications; and the
sheikh could stand it no longer. ‘Either you or I must leave this hill,’
said he to the Emperor; ‘if the efficacy of my prayers is no longer to be
relied upon, let me depart in peace!’ ‘If it be _your Majesty’s_ will,’
replied the Emperor, ‘that one of us should go, let it be your slave, I
pray.’ The old story: there is nothing like relying upon the efficacy of
our prayers, say the priests—nothing like relying upon that of our sharp
swords, say the soldiers; and as nations advance from barbarism, they
generally contrive to divide between them the surplus produce of the land
and labour of society. The old hermit consented to remain, and pointed
out Agra as a place which he thought would answer the Emperor’s purpose
extremely well! Agra—then an unpeopled waste—soon became a city, and
Futtehpore Sicri was deserted.”
The influenza having attacked our party, and my having fallen ill from
being drenched in a severe storm, on my return to Agra, which increased
the cough and cold from which I was suffering, prevented our prosecuting
the tour we had planned for visiting Deeg, Burtpore, and other remarkable
places.
_Extract from “the Asiatic Journal” of Oct. 1844._
“SKETCHES OF REMARKABLE LIVING CHARACTERS IN INDIA.”
No. 1.—COLONEL GARDNER.—THE BEGAM SUMROO.
“A few years ago India presented a wide field for adventure:
the distracted state of the country, the ambitious projects and
conflicting interests of native princes, were highly favourable
circumstances to those who brought with them a competent
knowledge of the art of war, and of military discipline;
and who preferred a wild, erratic, roving life, amongst the
children of the soil, to the regular service of the India
Company. There are two individuals still living in the Bengal
Presidency, and occupying a distinguished, though singular
position in society, whose eventful career, if circumstantially
related, could not fail to prove highly interesting. The
general outlines of the history of the Begam Sumroo, and of
Colonel Gardner, of Khāsgunge, are known to every person who
has visited the theatre of their exploits, but very few are
acquainted with the details; for such is the shifting nature
of Anglo-Indian society, that it is impossible to gain more
than the passing information of the day, in places rendered
memorable from circumstances of universal notoriety, but of
which nobody can give the particulars.
“Some apology ought, perhaps, to be made for associating the
name of so gallant and highly respected an officer as Colonel
Gardner with that of the Begam, and her still more worthless
husband; but as those readers of the ‘Asiatic Journal,’ who
have not been in India, are puzzled by the announcement of
marriages, or projected marriages, of the daughters of this
gentleman with the nephews of the King of Delhi, an explanation
of the circumstances which have produced these apparently
extraordinary alliances will doubtless prove acceptable. The
writer of these pages does not pretend to know more of Colonel
Gardner than the tongue of rumour could tell, or a casual
meeting in society could afford; but so remarkable a person
naturally made a strong impression, and the anecdotes extant
concerning him were too singular to be easily forgotten.
Colonel Gardner’s tall, commanding figure, soldier-like
countenance, and military air, render his appearance very
striking. When at his own residence, and associating with
natives, it is said that he adopts the Asiatic costume; but
while visiting a large military station, in company with the
Resident of Lucnow, he wore a blue surtout, resembling the
undress uniform of the British army, but profusely ornamented
with silk lace.
“Colonel Gardner, who is a connexion of the noble family
bearing that name, came out to India in the King’s service,
which he soon afterwards quitted; the cause of his resignation
is variously related; in the absence of an authentic account,
it would, perhaps, be wrong to give sanction to any one of
the reports afloat concerning it. At this period, it was
impossible to foresee that the tide of fortune would bring
the British Government of India into actual warfare with the
sovereigns of provinces so far beyond the frontier, that human
ambition dared not contemplate their subjugation. Many loyal
men were, therefore, induced to follow the banners of native
princes, under the expectation that they never could be called
upon to bear arms against their own country; but fate decreed
it otherwise, and, in the Mahratta war, those officers who
had enlisted in Holkar’s service, found themselves in a very
awkward predicament; especially, as they were not permitted a
choice, or even allowed to remain neutral, their new masters
endeavouring to force them, upon pain of death, to commit
treason to the land of their birth by fighting in the ranks of
a hostile force.
“In some of the native courts, the English were immediately
put to death upon the approach of the enemy, or on the
slightest suspicion of their fidelity. Upon more than one
occasion, Colonel Gardner, who, independent of his military
skill, possessed a thorough knowledge of the native character,
and very considerable talent, penetrated the designs of his
employers, and withdrew in time from meditated treachery; but
his escape from Holkar was of the most hazardous description,
not inferior in picturesque incident and personal jeopardy
to that of the renowned Dugald Dalgetty, who was not more
successful in all lawful strategy than the subject of this too
brief memoir. Anxious to secure the services of so efficient
an officer, after all fair means had failed, Holkar tied
his prisoner to a gun, and threatened him with immediate
destruction, should he persist in refusing to take the field
with his army. The Colonel remained staunch, and, perhaps in
the hope of tiring him out, the execution was suspended, and
he was placed under a guard, who had orders never to quit
him for a single instant. Walking one day along the edge of
a bank, leading by a precipitous descent to a river, Colonel
Gardner suddenly determined to make a bold effort to escape,
and perceiving a place fitted to his purpose, he shouted out
‘Bismillah!’ (‘in the name of God,’) and flung himself down
an abyss some forty or fifty feet deep. None were inclined to
follow him; but the guns were fired and an alarm sounded in
the town. He recovered his feet, and, making for the river,
plunged into it. After swimming for some distance, finding that
his pursuers gained upon him, he took shelter in a friendly
covert, and, with merely his mouth above the water, waited
until they had passed; he then landed on the opposite side, and
proceeded by unfrequented paths to a town in the neighbourhood,
which was under the command of a friend, who, though a
native, and a servant of Holkar, he thought would afford him
protection. This man proved trustworthy; and, after remaining
concealed some time, the Colonel ventured out in the disguise
of a grass-cutter, and reaching the British outposts in safety,
was joyously received by his countrymen. He was appointed to
the command of a regiment of irregular horse, which he still
retains; and his services in the field, at the head of these
brave soldiers, have not been more advantageous to the British
Government than the accurate acquaintance before-mentioned,
which his long and intimate association with natives enabled
him to obtain of the Asiatic character. It was to his
diplomatic skill and knowledge of the best methods of treaty,
that we owed the capitulation of one of those formidable
hill-fortresses (Komalmair in Mewar), whose reduction by
arms would have been at the expense of an immense sacrifice
of human life. The Commandant of the division despatched to
take possession of it, wearied out by the procrastinating and
indecisive spirit of the natives, would have stormed the place
at every disadvantage, had not Colonel Gardner persuaded him
to entrust the negotiation to his hands. The result proved
that he made a just estimate of his own powers: the garrison
agreed to give up the Fortress on the payment of their arrears;
and Colonel Tod, in his ‘Annals of Rajast’han,’ mentions
the circumstance as one highly honourable to the British
character, that, there not being more than four thousand rupees
at the time in the English camp, an order, written by the
Commandant for the remainder, upon the shroffs or bankers in
the neighbourhood, was taken without the least hesitation, the
natives not having the slightest doubt that it would be paid
upon presentation.
“The marriage of Colonel Gardner forms one of the most singular
incidents in his romantic story.
“In the midst of his hazardous career, he carried off a
Mahomedān princess, the sister of one of the lesser potentates
of the Deccan, who, though now reduced to comparative
insignificance, during the rise and progress of the Mahrattas,
were personages of considerable consequence.
‘Ever the first to climb a tower,
As venturous in a lady’s bower,’
the sacred recesses of the zenāna were penetrated by the
enterprising lover, who, at the moment in which his life was
threatened by the brother’s treachery, bore away his prize in
triumph, and sought an asylum in another court. A European,
of popular manners and military experience, could in those
days easily place himself at the head of a formidable body of
soldiers, ready to follow his fortunes, and trusting to his
arrangements with the princes, whose cause he supported, for
their pay, which was frequently in arrear, or dependent upon
the capture of some rich province. In the command of such a
troop Colonel Gardner was a welcome guest wherever he went;
and, until the affair with Holkar, he had always contrived to
secure his retreat whenever it was prudent to commence a new
career in another quarter.
“It is difficult to say what sort of bridal contract is gone
through between a Moslem beauty and a Christian gentleman,
but the ceremony is supposed to be binding; at least it is
considered so in India, a native female not losing the respect
of her associates by forming such a connexion. The marriage
of Colonel Gardner seems perfectly satisfactory to the people
of Hindostān; for the lady has not only continued stedfast to
the Mahomedan faith, and in the strict observance of all the
restrictions prescribed to Asiatic females of rank, but has
brought up her daughters in the same religious persuasion, and
in the same profound seclusion,—points seldom conceded by a
European father. They are, therefore, eligible to match with
the princes of the land, their mother’s family connexions and
high descent atoning for the disadvantage of foreign ancestry
upon the paternal side. Educated according to the most approved
fashion of an Oriental court, they are destined to spend the
remainder of their lives in the zenāna; and this choice for
her daughters shows, that their mother, at least, does not
consider exclusion from the world, in which European women
reign and revel, to be any hardship.
“So little of the spirit of adventure is now stirring in
India, that the Misses Gardner, or the young begams, or
whatsoever appellation it may be most proper to designate
them by, have not attracted the attention of the European
community. Doubtless, their beauty and accomplishments are
blazoned in native society; but, excepting upon the occasion
of an announcement like that referred to in the Calcutta
periodicals, the existence of these ladies is scarcely known to
their father’s countrymen residing in India. We are ignorant
whether their complexions partake most of the eastern or the
northern hue, or whether they have the slightest idea of the
privileges, from which their mother’s adherence to Mahomedan
usages has debarred them. Their situation, singular as it
may appear in England, excites little or no interest; nobody
seems to lament that they were not brought up in the Christian
religion, or permitted those advantages which the half-caste
offspring of women of lower rank enjoy: and, acquainted with
the circumstances of the case, the Editors of the aforesaid
periodicals do not enter into any explanation of intelligence
of the most startling nature to English readers, who, in their
ignorance of facts, are apt to fancy that European ladies in
India are willing to enter into the zenānas of native princes.
“Colonel Gardner has, of course, adopted many of the opinions
and ideas of the people with whom he has passed so great a
portion of his time, and in his mode of living he may be termed
half an Asiatic; this, however, does not prevent him from being
a most acceptable companion to the European residents, who
take the greatest delight in his society whenever he appears
among them. His autobiography would be a work of the highest
value, affording a picture of Indian manners and Indian policy,
with which few besides himself have ever had an opportunity
of becoming so intimately acquainted. As he is still in the
prime and vigour of existence, we may hope that some such
employment of these piping times of peace may be suggested
to him, and that he may be induced to devote the hours spent
in retirement at Khāsgunge, to the writing or the dictation
of the incidents of his early life. In looking back upon past
events, the Colonel occasionally expresses a regret that he
should have been induced to quit the king’s service, in which,
in all probability, he would have attained the highest rank;
but, eminently qualified for the situation in which he has been
placed, and more than reconciled to the destiny which binds him
to a foreign soil, the station he occupies leaves him little to
desire; and he has it in his power to be still farther useful
to society by unlocking the stores of a mind fraught with
information of the highest interest.”
1835, _March 5th._—Two letters having appeared in the “Mofussul Akhbar,”
a provincial paper, Colonel Gardner published this answer:—
“_To the Editor of the_ Mofussul Akhbar.
“DEAR SIR,—In your paper of the 28th ultimo, just received, I
find I have been unwillingly dragged from my obscurity by the
author of ‘Sketches of Living Remarkable Characters in India.’
This I should not have noticed, but for a mistake or two that
it is my duty to correct. In the first place, it was Colonel
Casement who ordered me, and instructed me in his name, to
attempt the negotiation for the surrender of the garrison of
Komalmair. I obeyed his order successfully, only demurring at
the sum demanded, 30,000 rupees, which, for so weak a garrison,
I considered extravagant: but the resident Colonel Tod arrived
at this stage of the business with superior diplomatic power.
Colonel Casement was no longer consulted, and my poor rushlight
was hidden under a bushel. But who can feel any thing against
the author of such a splendid and correct work as ‘Rajustan?’
The writer of the extract has probably mistaken Komalmair for
the Fort of Rampoora,—where, under the instructions of Colonel
Vauzemen, the negotiation for the evacuation was entirely
entrusted to me; and, for the sum of 7000 rupees, a siege was
prevented at a very advanced season of the year, when, as
General Ouchterlony wrote to me, he would otherwise have been
obliged to order the battering-train from Agra.
“When I made my escape, as detailed, by swimming the Taptee,
it was from the tender mercies of the gentle Brahman, our
late pensioner Emurt Row’s force, by whom I was then in close
confinement, and not from Holkar.
“I fear I must divest my marriage with her highness the Begam
of a great part of its romantic attraction, by confessing
that the young Begam was only thirteen years of age when I
first applied for and received her mother’s consent; and
which marriage probably saved both their lives. Allow me to
assure you, on the _very best authority_, that a Moslem lady’s
marriage with a Christian, by a Cazee, is as legal in this
country as if the ceremony had been performed by the Bishop
of Calcutta; a point lately settled by my son’s marriage with
the niece of the Emperor, the Nuwab Mulka Humanee Begam; and
that the respectability of the females of my family amongst the
natives of Hindostān has been settled by the Emperor many years
ago, he having adopted my wife as his daughter; a ceremony
satisfactorily repeated by the Queen, on a visit to my own
house in Delhi. I can assure my partial sketcher, that my only
daughter died in 1804, and that my grand-daughters, by the
particular desire of their grandmother, are Christians. It was
an act of her own, as by the marriage agreement, the daughters
were to be brought up in the religion of the mother; the sons
in that of your
“Very obedient, humble servant,
“W. L. G⸺.”
“Khasgunge, 5th March, 1835.”
Colonel Tod, in a letter to the editor of “the Asiatic Journal,” thus
speaks of Colonel Gardner:—“A day or two previous to this number (of your
journal) being lent me, an intimate friend of Colonel Gardner’s spent
the evening with me; and as it is almost impossible that any two men,
at all acquainted with his diversified life, could talk of him without
expressing a wish that he would become his own biographer,—the subject
being started, we mutually agreed, that, qualified in every way as he
is for the task, the result would be both interesting and instructive.
Amongst other remarks, I observed that, although he was well known to
me by character, and I had to bear testimony to the brave conduct of a
part of his corps, attached to me in 1817; the only time I ever had the
pleasure of seeing him was the day following the surrender of Komulmér,
when he dined with me.
“I trust your correspondent will proceed with ‘the sketches,’ and that
the outline he has now furnished of Colonel Gardner’s history may
stimulate the original to give, what no other can, his biography in
full. Colonel Gardner is one of the many remarkable men, who have passed
a most extraordinary life, floating, as circumstance or ‘_nuseeb_’
propelled, amidst the chaotic elements of Indian society, during the
half-century preceding the halcyon days of 1818; when, by the vigorous
mind and measures of the Marquess of Hastings, peace, for the first time
in its history, reigned from the Himalaya to Cape Comorin. _Aristides was
banished Athens!_”
I greatly wished Colonel Gardner would consent to tell me the history
of his remarkable life, which I was anxious to write down from his
dictation. One evening he said, “Merā Betee, (my child) when in Holkar’s
service, I was employed as an envoy to the Company’s forces, under Lord
Lake, with instructions to return within a certain time; my family
remained in camp. Suspicion of treachery was caused by my lengthened
absence, and accusations were brought forward against me at the Darbār,
held by Holkar on the third day following that on which my presence was
expected. I rejoined the camp while the darbār was still assembled; on
my entrance, the Mahārāj, in an angry tone, demanded the reason of the
delay; which I gave, pointing out the impossibility of a speedier return.
Holkar exclaimed, in great anger, ‘Had you not returned this day, I would
have levelled the khanats of your tents.’ I drew my sword instantly, and
attempted to cut his highness down, but was prevented by those around
him; and ere they had recovered from the amazement and confusion caused
by the attempt, I rushed from the tent, sprang upon my horse, and was
soon beyond reach of the pursuers.”
To account for Colonel Gardner’s indignation, it must be remembered, that
the kanāts are walls of canvas, that surround the tents of the ladies of
the zenāna; to have thrown down those screens, and to have exposed women
within parda to the gaze of men, would have been an insult for which
there could be no atonement. Colonel Gardner’s high spirit was as prompt
to avenge the threat as it would have been willing to take the life of
Holkar, had he intruded on the privacy of the Begam’s apartments.
Through the influence of friends, the Princess and her family were
allowed, unmolested, to quit Holkar’s dominions, and rejoin her husband.
The account Colonel Gardner gave me of his marriage with the Begam was
this:—
“When a young man, I was entrusted to negotiate a treaty with one of the
native princes of Cambay. Darbārs and consultations were continually
held; during one of the former, at which I was present, a parda (native
curtain) near me was gently moved aside, and I saw, as I thought, the
most beautiful black eyes in the world. It was impossible to think of the
treaty; those bright and piercing glances, those beautiful dark eyes,
completely bewildered me.
“I felt flattered that a creature so lovely as she of those deep black,
loving eyes must be, should venture to gaze upon me; to what danger might
not the veiled beauty be exposed, should the movement of the parda be
seen by any of those at the darbār! On quitting the assembly I discovered
that the bright-eyed beauty was the daughter of the Prince. At the next
darbār, my agitation and anxiety were extreme again to behold the bright
eyes that had haunted my dreams by night, and my thoughts by day! The
parda again was gently moved, and my fate was decided.
“I demanded the Princess in marriage; her relations were at first
indignant, and positively refused my proposal; however, on mature
deliberation, the ambassador was considered too influential a person to
have a request denied, and the hand of the young Princess was promised.
The preparations for the marriage were carried forward; ‘Remember,’ said
I, ‘it will be useless to attempt to deceive me; I shall know those eyes
again, nor will I marry any other.’
“On the day of the marriage I raised the veil from the countenance of the
bride, and in the mirror that was placed between us beheld the bright
eyes that had bewildered me; I smiled,—the young Begam smiled also.”
Such was Colonel Gardner’s account of the first time he beheld his bride.
Well might she smile when she gazed upon that noble countenance!
THE TOMB OF COLONEL HESSING.
_15th._—This beautiful Mausoleum is in the Catholic burial ground at
Agra, and is well worthy a visit. It was built by a native architect, by
name Luteef, in imitation of the ancient Muhammadan tombs. The material
is the red stone from Fathīpoor Sicri, which is highly carved, but not
inlaid. The tomb is beautiful, very beautiful, and in excellent taste.
Its cost is estimated at about one lākh of rupees. Luteef’s drawings
of the Tāj and of all the ancient monuments around Agra are excellent;
they cost from three to forty rupees each. I bought a large collection
of them, as well as of marbles and other curiosities. Luteef inlays
marble with precious stones, after the style of the work in the Tāj. A
chess-table of this sort, with a border of flowers in mosaic, costs from
eight to twelve hundred rupees, £80, or £120, and is beautifully executed.
_16th._—My affairs at Agra having come to a conclusion, and the pinnace,
carriage, and horses being on their way home, I once more turned my steps
to Khāsgunge, and arrived there dāk, accompanied by a friend, who was
extremely anxious to see the marriage ceremony, although all that the eye
of a man is permitted to behold is the tamāshā that takes place without
the four walls. All that passes within is sacred.
On my arrival the whole party at Khāsgunge were going out to tents by the
Ganges to hunt wild boars and otters; to shoot crocodiles, floriken,
black partridge, and other game. Even for people in good health it was,
at that season of the year, a mad expedition, and I declined going; I
longed indeed to accompany them, but my cold and cough were so severe I
was forced to give up the idea.
_18th._—My dear Colonel Gardner, seeing how ill I was, said, “You will
never recover, my child, in the outer house; I will give you a room in
the inner one, and put you under the care of the begam; there you will
soon recover.” He took me over to the zenāna; the begam received me very
kindly, and appointed four of her slaves to attend upon me, and aid my
own women. They put me immediately into a steam-bath, shampooed, mulled,
and half-boiled me; cracked every joint after the most approved fashion,
took me out, laid me on a golden-footed bed, gave me sherbet to drink,
shampooed me to sleep, and by the time the shooting party returned from
the Gunga, I had perfectly recovered, and was able to enter into all the
amusement of seeing a Hindostanee wedding.
I must here anticipate, and remark that Suddu Khan, our excellent little
khānsāmān, died in June, 1841. He had been ill and unable to attend for
months. There is a story, that being in an hummām, he received some
injury in the spine while being shampooed and joint-cracked by a barber,
who placed his knee to his back, and then forcibly brought his two arms
backwards. The story says poor Suddu fainted, and the barber was so much
alarmed, he fled, and has never been seen since at Cawnpore, where the
scene took place.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
THE MARRIAGE.
“TO DRESS ONE’S OWN DOLL[144].”
Spoken of a father who defrays the whole expense of his daughter’s
marriage, her dress, ornaments, &c., without any charge to the bridegroom
or his family.
“HE WHO BUILDS A HOUSE AND TAKES A WIFE HEAPS SEVENTY AFFLICTIONS ON HIS
HEAD[145].”
Pedigree of the Bride and Bridegroom—Reports concerning the
Beauty of the Bride—Anxiety of English Gentlemen to marry
into Colonel Gardner’s family—Mirza Unjun Shekō—The first
Procession—The Bride’s Dress—Necessity of Weeping—The Oily
Mixture—Strict Seclusion—Dress of the Bridegroom—The Oily
Mixture Complimentary—The Hoolī—Bridal Songs—The Sāchak—The
Bridegroom’s Procession—Nāch Girls on platforms—The Menhdi—The
grand Display in the Bride’s Procession—The Parda—The
Prince dyed with hinnā—Midnight the fashionable hour for
Dinner—Wedding Dishes—Silvered Food—Conclusion of the Day—Mr.
James Gardner—Mulka Begam highly respected; her will is law.
1835, _March 18th_.—Before entering on a description of the marriage
ceremonies, it may be as well to explain the singular manner in which
Colonel Gardner’s family has intermarried with that of the Emperor of
Delhi, which the annexed pedigree will exemplify.
William Gardner, Esq., of Coleraine, left a son.
William Gardner, Esq., Lieut.-Colonel in the 11th regiment of Dragoons.
He married Elizabeth, daughter of Valentine Farrington, Esq., and had
issue Valentine, born 1739, Allan, and other children. Allan was created
a baronet, and afterwards elevated to the peerage in Ireland in 1800; and
created a peer of the United Kingdom, 1806.
[Illustration: Pedigree of Colⁿ. William Linnæus Gardner.
فاني پارکس]
Valentine, the eldest son, a Major in the army, married, first, Alaida,
daughter of Robert Livingstone, Esq., by whom he had a son, William
Linnæus, Captain in the army; and, secondly, Frances, daughter of Samuel
Holworthy, Esq., by whom he had another son, Valentine.
Colonel William Linnæus Gardner married Nawab Matmunzel-ool-Nissa Begam
Delme, and by her had two sons, Allan and James, and a daughter; the last
mentioned died young.
Allan, the eldest son, married Beebee Sāhiba Hinga, and left one son,
Mungo, who died young, and two daughters, Hirmoozee and Susan. Hirmoozee
married her relative, Stewart William Gardner, Esq., son of Rear-Admiral
Francis Gardner, the brother of Allan Hyde Lord Gardner. Susan, the
second daughter, or Shubbeah Begam as she is called, is the one whose
marriage is on the _tapis_.
James Gardner, the second son of Colonel William Linnæus Gardner,
married, first, Beebee Sāhiba Banoo, by whom he had one son, Hinga,
and two daughters, Alaida, the Morning Star, and the Evening Star. He
married, secondly, Mulka Humanee Begam, and by her had four children, two
sons and two daughters: Sulimān and William Linnæus; Nashaba Begam, and
another girl.
Mirza Sulimān Shekō, son of Shāh Allum, the late Emperor of Delhi, and
brother of Akbar Shāh, the present Emperor, has a numerous family. Two
of the daughters were celebrated for their beauty: one of them, Mulka
Humanee Begam, married her cousin, Mirza Selīm, the son of Akbar Shāh,
from whom she was divorced: she married, secondly, Mr. James Gardner.
Sultana Bōa, the other daughter, married Nusseer-ood-Deen Hydur, the King
of Oude. Mirza Unjun Shekō, son of Mirza Suliman Shekō, and half-brother
of Mulka Begam, is engaged to Susan Gardner, as before-mentioned.
Colonel Gardner was exceedingly unwilling to allow of the marriage of
his grand-daughter with the young prince, but the old Begam, his wife,
had set her heart upon it. He would rather have seen her married to a
European gentleman; but the Begam, who is an adopted daughter of the
Emperor of Delhi, is delighted with the match,—in _her_ eyes a fine
alliance.
I must describe the bride, Susan Gardner, or, as she is called in the
zenāna, Shubbeah Begam, every lady having her name and title also. She
had been cried up by the people at Agra as a great beauty, and Colonel
Gardner had received several proposals for her, both from European
and native gentlemen. She was also described as very accomplished for
the inhabitant of four walls, being able to read, and write, and keep
accounts with gram. She is about twenty years of age, very old for a
bride in this country, where girls marry at eleven or twelve, and the
proverb describes them as “shrivelled at twenty.”
My surprise was great when I saw her in the zenāna. Her complexion is
pale and sallow, her face flat, her figure extremely thin, and far
from pretty. Her flatterers called her “so fair!” but she has not the
fairness of a European, or the fine clear brown of some Asiatic ladies:
her manners were also admired, but I did not like them, nor did she move
stately as an elephant, an epithet applied to a woman having a graceful
gait.
Unjun Shekō, the bridegroom, who is about twenty years of age, is a
remarkably handsome man; his black curling hair hangs in long locks on
each side his face; his eyes very large, long, and bright; his features
fine; his complexion a clear brown; his figure the middle size; and
like all natives, he wore a beard, moustache, and whiskers. His three
brothers, who came to the wedding with him, are ugly, low caste looking
men. Unjun’s manners are good, theirs are cubbish. For four or five years
he has been trying to bring about this marriage; but Colonel Gardner
opposed it on account of his extravagance. His father, Sulimān Shekō,
has refused to give one rupee to the young couple, so that the whole
expense of the wedding falls upon Colonel Gardner: he pays for both
sides. The young prince has only an allowance of 100 rupees a month!
Natives, especially native women, are curious beings; the whole pride of
their lives consists in having had a grand wedding: they talk of it, and
boast of it to the hour of their death. Colonel Gardner said, “If I were
to give Shubbeah the money that will be fooled away in display at this
marriage, I should make her miserable; she would think herself disgraced;
and although by custom she is not allowed to stir from her room, or to
see the sight, still it will charm her to hear the road was lighted up
for so many miles, the fireworks were so fine and the procession so
grand! She would have this to talk of in preference to the money, even if
she were forced to deprive herself of half her food all her life; she is
a pakkā Hindostānee!” They were horrified at my description of an English
marriage. A carriage and four, attended by five or six other carriages,
made a good wedding; when the ceremony had been performed by the padre,
the bride and bridegroom drove away: no procession, no fireworks; the
money put in the banker’s hands, the parents gave a dinner and ball, and
all was finished.
The Begam was in a perfect agony from morning till night, lest any one
thing should be forgotten,—lest any, even the smallest gift might be
omitted; if it were, the people would say, “What a shabby wedding!” and,
in spite of all the expense, she would lose her good name.
It would be utterly impossible for me to recount the innumerable
ceremonies performed at the wedding of a Muhammadan; the following are a
few of the most remarkable.
_March 12th._—The ceremonies began: In the first place, the bridegroom’s
party, consisting of Mr. James Gardner, Mulka Began, Mrs. B⸺, and
Mr. V⸺, went into tents four miles distant; while the bride’s party,
consisting of Colonel Gardner, his Begam, the bride, and myself, remained
at Khāsgunge. We had also, in the outer house, Mr. Valentine Gardner,
a party of English gentlemen, and the old Nawab of Cambay. It appeared
curious to me to sit down to dinner with these gentlemen, who were all
attired in native dresses, and do the honours, at times when my dear
Colonel Gardner was too unwell to quit the zenāna, and join the dinner
party in the outer house. The turban is not a necessary appendage to
Asiatic attire; in all friendly or familiar intercourse the skull cap is
worn,—the turban in company; it is disgraceful to uncover the head.
But to return to my story. About 3 P.M., Mulka Begam came in procession
to bring the bride’s dress, which is a present from the bridegroom. The
procession consisted of elephants, raths (four-wheeled native carriages
drawn by bullocks), palanquins, led horses, &c.; and one hundred trays,
carried on men’s heads, containing the dress for the bride, sweetmeats,
and basun (flour of gram), wherewith to wash the lady. Mulka Begam came
in a covered palanquin, screened from the gaze of men.
I, as in duty bound, had made my salām to Shubbeah Begam, and was in
attendance in the zenāna, to receive the bridegroom’s party.
“Women of the lower class, on entering the female assembly, must not say
‘salām;’ if the hostess be a lady of rank, they perform kudumbosee (the
ceremony of kissing the feet) to her, and merely make salām to the rest.
When going away they request permission, in the same way as the men in
the male assembly, and take their departure.
“Kudumbosee, or the ceremony of kissing the feet, is, rather, to touch
the feet of the hostess with the right hand, and then kiss the latter,
or, more generally, make salām with it; while her ladyship, scarce
allowing it to be done, out of politeness and condescension, withdraws
her foot; and, taking hold of her hands, says, ‘Nay, don’t do that!’ or
‘Enough!’ ‘Long may you live!’ ‘Come, be seated!’ Or, if she be married,
‘May God render your _sohag_ durable!’ _i.e._ May God preserve your
husband: if he be dead, ‘May God cause your end to be happy!’
“The men of the better ranks of society, however, when coming in or going
away, say, ‘Salām, bundugee tuslemat!’ _i.e._ ‘My blessing, service, or
salutation to you!’ according to the rank of the lady of the house.
“The salām made by females is not like that of the males—touching the
forehead with the right hand—but it consists in touching the _puttee_, or
hair above the right temple[146].”
Speaking of men entering a zenāna, the place is considered so sacred,
that, in a native family, only the nearest male relatives, the father and
grandfather, can unrestrainedly obtain admission; the uncles and brothers
only on especial occasions. The bride was once allowed to be seen by the
brothers of Mirza Selīm, her betrothed husband; but he requested that no
other persons but Colonel and Mr. James Gardner might behold her, and
said, after marriage, he should not allow her to be seen even by his own
brothers.
The trays containing the presents, brought in procession from the Prince,
were received by the female slaves, conveyed by them into the zenāna,
and placed before Colonel Gardner’s Begam and the Princess Mulka. It is
a custom never to send back an empty tray; if money be not sent, part of
the contents of the tray is left, fruit, flowers, &c. The presents were
displayed on the ground before the bride, who was sitting on a charpāī,
wrapped in an Indian shawl, hiding her face, and sobbing violently; I
thought she was really in distress, but found this violent sorrow was
only a part of the ceremony. Mulka Begam took a silver bowl, and putting
into it sandal-wood powder and turmeric and oil, mixed it up, whilst both
she and Colonel Gardner’s Begam repeated with great care the names and
titles on both sides; it being unlucky if any name be forgotten, as any
evil that may chance to befall the bride hereafter would be occasioned by
forgetfulness, or mistaking the name over this oily mixture. The bride
was then rubbed from head to foot with it; how yellow it made her, the
turmeric! The natives say it makes the skin _so beautiful, so yellow_,
and so soft: it certainly renders the skin deliciously soft, but the
yellow tinge I cannot admire. After this operation was performed, all
the mixture was scraped up, put into the bowl, and mixed with more oil,
to be sent to the Prince, that his body might be rubbed with it—this is
considered a compliment!
The bridal dress was then put on Shubbeah; it was of yellow gauze,
trimmed with silver; the pajamas of red satin and silver. The faces of
the attendants were smeared by way of frolic with the oily mixture, and
the bridegroom’s party returned to their tents. I must not forget to
mention that from the moment the bride is rubbed with this turmeric, she
is a prisoner for ten days; not allowed to move from her charpāī, on
which she sits up or sleeps. Twice a day she is rubbed with almond soap,
mixed with turmeric, &c. All this time she is never allowed to bathe. She
is fed on sweetmeats, and not allowed to touch acids, or vinegar, &c.:
even pān is almost denied; but I fancy, without it an Asiatic lady would
fret herself to death. And in this horrible state, a girl is kept during
all the gaiety of the wedding; never allowed to move; to make her skin
soft and yellow, and to render her sweet-tempered, I suppose, by feeding
her with lumps of sugar!
As soon as the bridegroom’s party were gone, Colonel Gardner requested me
to go in procession, with his pretty grand-daughter, Alaida (the Morning
Star), to the Prince’s tents, to escort the dress of the bridegroom, sent
as a present by the bride. We went accordingly in full procession, as
described before, taking back the oily mixture. Mulka Begam received us
at the Prince’s tent; he was placed on a silver footstool; Mulka took off
his upper dress, and rubbed his face and arms with the mixture; she then
arrayed him in a dress of yellow and orange muslin, a red turban, and red
silk pajamas, in which attire he looked very handsome.
Before him sat three women, the Domnee, playing and singing bridal
songs; I saw the Prince turn very red; he looked at the women, and said
something in a low tone to Mulka Begam, who answered,—“The mem sāhiba
knows they are singing gālee (abuse); but she does not understand
Hindostanee sufficiently to comprehend their songs.” The language of the
songs is complete _slang_. Yellow powder, mixed with water, was then
thrown in frolic at all the people; I made my salām, quitted the tent,
and finding a gentleman in waiting ready to drive me back, returned to
Colonel Gardner’s, leaving the rest of the party to play and sing all
night. Thus ended the first day of the ceremonies.
At the festival of the Hūlī, which is particularly dedicated to Krishnŭ,
images of the deity are carried about on elephants, horses, in palkees,
&c. The songs are exclusively in honour of Krishnŭ, and hailing the
return of the season, personified under the name of Vasanta, generally
pronounced Bessant. Kama, the god of love, is the son of Krishnŭ.
The Hoolī was celebrated by the natives with due glee; they threw abeer
(red powder) into each other’s faces, and then squirted orange-coloured
water over it; people were also sent on April-fool errands. Colonel
Gardner avoided appearing amongst the people during this festival, and
I imitated his example. The orange-coloured water is tinged with the
flowers of the dhāk tree; the abeer is flour made from the singharra
(water nut), and dyed with red sanders; the roots of the singharra are
loosened by means of ropes fastened between two boats, with several men
in each; and iron prongs are used in collecting them.
I mentioned to Colonel Gardner the songs of the women, the Domnee,
who were in the tent, and the distress of the Prince. He said, “When
marriages are negotiating, in particular, they are of the most unchaste
description; they are admitted on such occasions, but the nāch girls
never; the songs of the Domnee are indecent beyond the conception of an
European.”
Nāch women dance and sing before men, and are not allowed to enter
zenānas of respectability; but in all great establishments, such as
Colonel Gardner’s, and that of his son, the slave girls are formed into
sets of dancing girls, to sing and play for the amusement of the Begams.
Colonel Gardner remarked, “The songs of the nāch girls are never
indecent, unless ‘by particular desire,’ and then in representing the
bearer’s dance,—a dance which is never performed before ladies.”
The following tradition may account for the great noise made with
native instruments at a wedding:—“The difference between the lawful
and unlawful, in marriage, is proclamation and the beating of drums
for them.” “Aa’yeshah gave a woman, who was nearly related to her, in
marriage to one of the assistants; and the prophet came and said, ‘Have
you sent the young woman to her husband?’ She said, ‘Yes.’ The prophet
said, ‘Have you sent any singers with her?’ She said, ‘No.’ On which
the prophet said, ‘Verily the assistants are a tribe fond of singing;
therefore, had you sent any one with her to have sung A’taina’cum,
A’taina’cum, then he would have prayed for your life and mine.’”
A’taina’cum, a’taina’cum,—_we come to you, we come to you_, are the words
of a song sung in marriage processions.
Aamīr-bin-sad said, “I went to Kardhah-bin-cab, and Abu Masuud Ansarī, in
an assembly, in which was a bridal feast; and some women were singing;
and I said, ‘O ye two companions of the prophet of God! and O ye men
of Bedr! (_i.e._ combatants in that battle) shall this act (that is,
singing), be done near you?’ They said to me, ‘Sit down if you please,
and hear with us; but, if you please, go away, because the prophet
permitted us to hear nuptial songs.’”
Domra is the name of a caste of Musalmāns, the males of which are
musicians, and the females sing and dance in the company of females only.
THE SĀCHAK.
“WHEN THERE IS A MARRIAGE THEY MAY SING ALL NIGHT[147].”
_March 28th._—The bride is denominated dulhān on the day of Sāchak,
and the bridegroom dūlha. The poor dulhān is kept in strict parda on
her charpāī; the dūlha ought by law to be equally confined, but he
generally contrives to amuse himself during the time. After the bride
and bridegroom had been rubbed a certain number of days with the oily
mixture, the time appointed for the second day’s ceremonies arrived;
which is called the Sāchak. Mulka Begam and the prince arrived in
procession. The bridegroom’s party were dressed out in all their bravery.
The party of the bride wore their old clothes, and looked as deplorable
as possible. This was according to custom, and therefore strictly
observed. On this day it is the fashion for the bride’s mother to
appear in an undress, and even that soiled! The procession consisted of
elephants in all their crimson and gold trappings, led horses, English
and Arab; nalkīs, a sort of litter used by people of rank, palanquins,
and raths, (native bullock carriages,) &c. A number of men dressed up as
horses were prancing about, kicking and playing antics, and two hundred
gharās (earthen vessels) filled with sweetmeats, which looked very gay
from being covered with silver-leaf, were carried on the heads of two
hundred men.
The platforms for the nāch women were the most curious part of the
procession, they are called takhti-rawān, a sort of travelling throne,
formed of bamboo, square in form, over which was spread an awning
ornamented with crimson, and gold, and silver, and supported by four
bamboos, one at each angle of the platform. On each travelling throne
sat a native musician, playing on a kettle-drum, and before him danced
two nāch women; the girls twirled and nāched with all their might and
skill. The platforms were _carried on the heads_ of a number of men in
the procession, and had a curious and singular effect; the situation was
a very unsteady one for the dancing girls, one of whom became giddy and
tumbled down upon the heads of the crowd of people below. In this fashion
ten stands, containing twenty nāch girls and ten musicians, were carried
on men’s heads to the sound of kettle-drums. When Mulka had brought
in the procession, and the company were seated, atr of sandal-wood
was put on each person’s face, and a necklace of silver tissue around
their necks. The same three vile old women began their songs of abuse;
abusing the prince, the Begams, and myself; but as it was the custom, no
one could be angry. I could only guess the sort of abuse; I could not
understand it, never having heard it before. The prince’s yellow dress,
now quite dirty, was on him still; according to custom, _over_ it was
put on a dress of cloth of gold and crimson. In front of his turban the
jewelled jika was placed, and on his arms valuable bazubunds—armlets of
precious stones. All this time the poor little bride was kept in her oily
attire on her charpāī, and not allowed to stir. She only heard the noise
and uproar of the procession. Mulka’s dress was very elegant.
THE MENHDĪ—THE THIRD DAY.
_29th._—The menhdī is the tree, Lawsonia inermis, from the leaves of
which the hinnā dye is produced: the leaves are gathered and pounded;
when put on the hands and feet, and allowed to remain an hour or two, it
produces a dark brownish red dye, which is permanent for four or five
months; the hands and feet, both of men and women, thus dyed are reckoned
beautiful. It is remarkable that female mummies have the nails stained
with menhdī.
A number of trays of this prepared menhdī were carried on men’s heads,
covered with embroidered velvet; they were sent from the bride to dye
the bridegroom. This was the grand display on the part of the bride’s
friends; who all, dressed in all their most costly attire, went, at
eleven at night, in procession from Khāsgunge to the Prince’s tents. The
road was enclosed with bamboo screens, all lighted up with thousands
of small lamps; fireworks were let off in profusion, and the triumphal
arches across the road were all illuminated; five thousand torches were
carried by men, to light the procession. The Begam herself was there in
her nālkee, the curtains all down and fastened; the ladies in a long line
of native carriages, called raths; the boys in different sorts of native
palkees; the men, handsomely dressed, on elephants. I went in an amārī,
on an elephant; the amārī is a litter with two seats, covered by two
canopies; when the seat on an elephant is open, without a canopy, it is
called a howdah. Mr. T⸺, a friend, accompanied me; we sat in the front
seat, and a native gentleman occupied the seat at the back. The elephant
was a very large one; we were a great height from the ground, and had a
good view, being above the smoke of the blue lights. The native gentleman
amused us by his astonishment at Mr. T⸺’s not being a married man; my
friend told him he wished to marry, but how could he without seeing the
lady? The Asiatic said that was impossible; but could he not depend on
his female friends to see and select for him? Mr. T⸺ deputed me to select
a wife for him; the native gentleman thought him in earnest, and said,
when every thing was arranged, I might show Mr. T⸺ her picture before
they were married. In this manner weddings are made up; it would be the
height of indelicacy to suppose a girl could have a choice, she marries
just any one whom her friends select. The led horses, in their gay native
caparison, looked so well amongst the blue lights; and the handsomest of
all was Candidate, an imported English horse, formerly the property of
Major P⸺; Rattler, another English horse, sixteen hands high, whom I had
ridden several times, was also there. They were so quiet and well-behaved
in the crowd and amongst the fireworks, much more quiet than the native
horses.
The ten platforms, containing the twenty nāch girls and the kettle-drum
players carried on men’s heads were also there. The effect of the gay
dresses of the women, as they twirled and attitudinized was good by
torch-light. Some of the girls, who were horrors by daylight, looked
pretty by the artificial light, at a distance. It took two hours to go
with the procession the four miles, through the village of Khāsgunge to
the tents. All the inhabitants were either on the road or on the roofs
of their houses, and we were attended by thousands of people: such a
crowd, we could scarcely move forwards. On our arrival at the tents we
found Mulka Begam’s tent prepared for the reception of the females of
our party. It was in utter darkness. In front fine bamboo screens were
let down, which, inside, were covered with thin white muslin. Through
this parda, from the inside of the tent, you could see what was going on
without, where every thing was brilliantly lighted, whilst we were in
complete darkness. From without you could not see into the tent in the
slightest degree. These screens are called pardas, and the women who live
within them, parda nishīn, secluded behind the curtain. In front of the
tent was pitched a very large shamiyana, a canopy, supported on every
side by high poles; white cloths were spread on the ground. In the centre
was seated the young Prince on his gaddī (throne of the sovereign), most
beautifully dressed, and looking very handsome. His four ill-looking
brothers were next to him. On a plain gaddī, by his side, sat Colonel
Gardner and myself, and all the English and native gentlemen were seated
on either side. In front, were one hundred nāch women, the best to be
procured, brought, at an immense expense, from great distances; six or
eight of these girls danced at a time, and were relieved by another set.
Around were countless numbers of natives, in all their gayest dresses:
and still further back were many elephants, on which people had mounted
to get a sight of the tamāshā. When the preparations within were ready,
Colonel Gardner took me, his son, and the five princes, within the tent;
a parda (screen) was drawn across part of the tent, behind which were
some native ladies, whom it would have been improper the men should have
seen, they not being their relatives. The Prince was placed on a low
silver seat, and fed with sugar; the amusement appeared to be, as you
offered the sugar, and the Prince attempted to take it in his mouth, to
snatch away your hand. The ladies behind the parda also put forth their
hands to feed him with sugar; he tried to catch their hands, and having
succeeded in catching the hand of one of the girls who was teazing him,
he tried to draw off her ring, and in the struggle she was nearly pulled
through the parda!
A silver bason was brought, and from it, Mulka Begam, Alaida, and her
sister, the Evening Star, put the menhdī on the Prince’s hands and feet,
and washed it off with water, which they poured from a silver vessel, of
the most classical and beautiful shape I almost ever beheld. A turban
of green and gold, ornamented with brilliants and precious stones, was
placed on his head; he was then dressed in a dress of kimkhwāb (gold
brocade), a red and gold kamarband, and green pājāmas; and a ring and
armlets of great value and beauty were also put upon him. Sherbet was
given to him, and all the guests, to drink, and their mouths were wiped
with a sort of napkin of red and gold cloth by the cup-bearer.
Into the sherbet tray each guest put a gold mohur, the perquisite of the
girls who had put the menhdī on the Prince. Afterwards, a slave-girl
brought a silver vessel with water; water was poured over the hands of
the guests, each of whom put four or five rupees into the bowl; this was
given the Domnee, the same three old women who in one corner were singing
all the time. Necklaces of the fresh flowers of the yellow jasmine were
thrown over the neck of the prince and the guests. After these ceremonies
were completed, the prince and Colonel Gardner quitted the tent. I
remained with the Begam. A ceremony was then performed that surprised me
considerably; the native ladies laughed, and appeared to think it high
tamāshā.
It was now dinner time, being midnight. The inner pardas of the tent were
let down, and lights were brought in. A white cloth was spread on the
ground in front of the Begam’s gaddī, upon which eight large round dishes
of earthenware were placed. These were filled with boiled rice mixed with
almonds and many good things, very pleasant food. These dishes are always
prepared at Asiatic weddings, as bride-cake is always an attendant on the
same ceremony in Europe. The rice was piled up high, and silvered all
over with silver leaf, and a tuft of silver ornamented the top. Silvered
food is much used by natives; and in helping a dish, if you wish to pay a
compliment, you send as much gold and silver leaf as you can. At weddings
the food is served in earthen vessels, instead of the silver vessels
commonly used, because, when the repast is over, the remainder of it,
vessels and all, are given away.
Of course, according to Asiatic custom, we all sat on the ground. The
Begam said, “What shall we do? we have no knives and forks for the bībī
sāhiba.” I assured her my fingers were more useful than forks. She
sent me a large dish, well filled and well silvered. I bowed over it,
saying in an undertone to myself, “Jupiter omnipotens digitos dedit ante
bidentes.” The Begam _explained_ to the guests, “English ladies always
say grace before meals.” After holding forth my right hand to have water
poured upon it, I boldly dipped my fingers into the dish, and contrived
to appease my hunger very comfortably, much to the amusement of the
Asiatic ladies: but I found I could not get my fingers half so far into
my mouth as they contrived to do; certainly the mode is ungraceful, but
this may be prejudice. I looked at Mulka Begam, how far she pushed her
delicate fingers down her throat—wah! wah!
“The prophet used to eat with three fingers, the thumb, the fore-finger,
and the middle finger; and after eating he used to lick his blessed
fingers before touching any thing else.” The prophet said, “Repeat the
name of God, and eat with your right hand; the devil has power over that
meat which is eaten without remembering the name of God.” “Verily God is
pleased with a servant who eats a mouthful and says God’s praise, and
drinks a draught of water, and says God’s praise.” “When any one of you
eats, he must do it with his right hand; and when any one of you drinks,
he must take hold of his water-pot with the right hand, because the devil
eats and drinks with his left.”
After the repast silver vessels were handed round, and our mouths and
fingers underwent ablution. Besan, the flour of gram, as good for the
purpose as almond-paste, was presented to each guest; with it the grease
was removed from the fingers, and water was poured over them.
Necklaces most beautifully made of silver tissue were now given to the
whole of the company, both within and without the tent; the lights were
carried away, a portion of the parda was removed, and we, unseen, could
then observe what was going on without the tent, the nāching, and the
company. Seeing the Begam apparently fatigued, I requested she would give
me my dismissal, which, having received, I made my salām and returned to
Colonel Gardner, with whom I sat looking at the nāch until 3 P.M., at
which hour the prince, by taking his departure, broke up the assembly.
“On retiring, the senior guest, addressing the host, says, ‘Be pleased
to, or will you, give us leave, or permission, to depart?’ Adding, ‘May
God bless and prosper you! I have made a hearty meal, or dined heartily
(orig. eaten a belly full)!’ To which the other replies, ‘It is the will
of God and Muhammad,’ _i.e._ not mine; or, ‘Very well:’ ‘Certainly.’
Then the whole company rise, calling out, ‘As salām alaikum!’ ‘Peace be
unto you,’ and take their departure[148].” I returned to Khāsgunge in a
palanquin, in which I slept all the way home, being fatigued and overcome
with the exertions of the day.
It was a sight worth seeing; the thousands of well-dressed natives
in picturesque groups, and the dancing girls under the brilliantly
illuminated trees. I was delighted to sit by my dear Colonel Gardner, and
to hear his explanations. In conversation he was most interesting, a man
of great intelligence, and in mind playful as a child. I often begged
him to write his life, or to allow me to write it at his dictation. The
description of such varied scenes as those through which he had passed
would have been delightful; and he wrote so beautifully, the work would
have been invaluable. He used to tell me remarkable incidents in his
life, but I never wrote them down, feeling that unless I could remember
his language, the histories would be deprived of half their beauty. I
have never described Mr. James Gardner, his son. He is a remarkably
shrewd, clever, quick man. He has never been in England: he commenced his
education at a school in Calcutta; and the remainder he received at home,
from Colonel Gardner and his friend Mr. B⸺. Persian he reads and writes
as fluently as a native, and transacts all his business in that language.
He is very quick, and so deep, they say he even outwits the natives.
He is very hospitable—expert in all manly exercises—a fine horseman—an
excellent swordsman—skilled in the lance exercise—an admirable shot with
the bow and arrow—excels in all native games and exercises. I fancy the
Begam, his mother, would never hear of her son’s going to England for
education; and to induce a native woman to give way to any reasons that
are contrary to her own wishes is quite out of the power of mortal man.
A man may induce a European wife to be unselfish and make a sacrifice
to comply with his wishes, or for the benefit of her children. A native
woman would only be violent, enraged, and sulky, until the man, tired and
weary with the dispute and eternal worry, would give her her own way.
Such at least is my opinion from what I have seen of life within the four
walls of a zenāna. James Gardner is most perfectly suited to the life he
leads: the power of the sun does not affect him so much as it does other
people: he rides about his estates and farms all day: he has a great
number of villages of his own, of which he is lord and master, and is
able to conduct his affairs and turn his indigo and farming to profit. In
all this he is assisted by the advice of Mulka Begam, to whom the natives
look up with the highest respect. She is a clever woman, and her word is
regarded as law by her villagers and dependents.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
THE BURĀT.
“THE NUPTIAL PROCESSION IS PROPORTIONED TO THE RANK OF THE
BRIDEGROOM[149].”
The Bridegroom fights for his Bride—The grand
Procession—Superstition of the Prince—Bridal Attire—The
Bride’s Consent—Signing the Contract—The Nose-ring—Dress of
the Bride—The Prince enters the Zenāna—He beholds his Bride—He
carries her off—Colonel Gardner’s distress—Fanī Bhū’a—The
Bride’s Dower carried in procession with the newly-married
couple to the Prince’s Tents—A singular Custom—Pān.
1835, _March 30th_.—Colonel Gardner said to me, “The bridegroom will
come to-night to carry away his bride; it is an old Tartar custom for
the man to fight for his wife, and carry her away by force of arms; this
is still retained. I shall have the doors of the gateway barred at the
entrance; and the soldiers on the prince’s arrival, after refusing to
admit him, will at length allow him to enter, if he give them some gold
mohurs. We, of the bride’s party, are not to join in the procession,
but you may go out on an elephant provided you put no gay trappings
upon him; and you can look on and say, ‘What a paltry procession, not
half as fine as ours last night!’ this is the custom (dastūr). I will
go in my tanjan and stand at one side.” This was the grand day of all:
the prince and his party came at night; the village through which they
passed was illuminated, as well as the road and the triumphal arches;
they were accompanied by bands of music and flags innumerable; at every
halt fireworks were let off, while blue lights added a picturesque
effect to the scene. The prince rode at the head of the procession on an
Arab covered with embroidered trappings; on each side, the animal was
decorated with the white tails of the yāk; and over all was thrown an
ornamental armour made of flowers. On the head of the Arab was a jika,
an ornament from which arose a heron’s plume, of which each feather was
tipped with gold; his neck, the bridle, and the crupper were adorned
with ornaments and golden chains. According to etiquette, an attendant
on foot by the side of the horse carried an āftābī, a sun embroidered on
velvet attached to a staff, gaily ornamented and carried in an elevated
position: it is used as a protection from the rays of the sun, and also
as a point of dignity. Another carried a magnificent chatr, umbrella of
silk, embroidered with gold, a mark of royalty. In Oude the king alone
is entitled to the chatr, with the exception of the resident and his
assistant. Then followed the elephants, and friends, and attendants on
horseback, palanquins and native carriages of many descriptions: the
procession was interspersed with the platforms containing dancing girls,
carried by men, and a number of horses, English, Arab, and country, were
led by their grooms. Innumerable torches flared in every direction,
and chirāghs, small lamps fixed on ladders, were carried horizontally
by the attendants. Artificial trees made of wax, coloured paper, and
shola, decorated with gold and silver leaf, mica, and coloured foil, were
carried by men in great number, and added a strangely Asiatic effect to
the whole, as the blue lights fell upon them.
When the procession arrived at the entrance to Colonel Gardner’s estate,
the doors of the gateway were found closed, and the prince was refused
admittance; but after a mock fight, he was allowed to pass through into
the grounds. The Begam would not have omitted a Timūrian custom for the
world. The dress of the bridegroom consisted entirely of cloth of gold;
and across his forehead was bound a sort of fillet (sihrā) made of an
embroidery of pearls, from which long strings of gold hung down all
over his face to his saddle-bow; and to his mouth he kept a red silk
handkerchief closely pressed to prevent devils entering his body! In
this heavy dress of gold the prince did not look to advantage.
I went out with two gentlemen, on a very shabbily-dressed elephant; we
stopped by the road-side, and had a good view of the procession. One
of the party, Mr. F⸺, attired most becomingly in the native fashion,
mounted on a handsome white Arab, caparisoned in purple and gold, looked
like a picture in a fairy tale, as he rode amongst the blue lights; his
plain dress of fine white dacca muslin, with a white muslin turban,
and a handsome black Indian shawl, put round his waist coxcomically in
native style, was in very good taste. We remained about an hour viewing
the scene,—the effect was excellent; even the old Nawāb of Cambay came
out in a tanjan, and looked happy and well pleased. On looking for
Colonel Gardner, I saw the dear old man seated on the side of a well, in
darkness, and quite removed from the crowd, looking on and smiling at the
foolery. Perhaps his thoughts reverted to his own marriage, when he had
undergone the same ceremonies: I asked him how he could have endured such
folly? He answered, “I was young then; and in love, I would have done or
promised any thing.”
A very large shamiyāna (awning) was pitched before Colonel Gardner’s
house; the ground beneath it was spread with white cloths, on which
was placed the Prince’s gaddī, of velvet, embroidered with gold. An
immense number of native gentlemen, wedding guests, were present; they
came from their tents, which were all pitched on the estate around the
house. During the last two days of the wedding, every man, woman, child,
horse, elephant, and servant were fed at Colonel Gardner’s expense, and
an immense outlay it must have been; my jamadār came to me, and said,
“For the next two days your horses and servants will be fed by Colonel
Gardner; do not object to it, it would bring ill-luck on the wedding;
it is the custom (dastūr).” It is also the custom to sit up the whole
night on this occasion; to beguile the time, a great number of brilliant
ātāshbāzī (fireworks) were let off, which were fixed in the grounds in
front of the house. The dancing girls descended from the platforms on
which they had been carried, assembled under the shamiyāna, and sang
and attudinized the whole night, one set relieving the other. The Prince
seated himself on his gaddī, and the contract of marriage was read to
him; it was written in Persian on beautifully illuminated parchment, for
which Colonel Gardner paid duty 450 rupees, that is, £45.
Previous to the signature, it was necessary to gain the formal consent
of the bride; for which purpose, Mr. James Gardner took the kāzī (native
judge), and two of his native officers, with Mrs. B⸺ and myself, into
the zenāna. We stood in an empty room, adjoining that in which were the
bride and the Begam, her grandmother; between us was the parda; we could
hear, but not see. The kāzī said, “Is Shubbeah Begam present?” “Yes.”
“Does Shubbeah Begam give her free consent to marry Mirza Unjun Shekō?”
An answer was made, but in so low a tone, it was more like a murmur.
Mr. Gardner said, “You are witnesses, and have heard her give her
consent.” I replied, “No; I heard a murmur, but know not what it meant.”
The Begam then said, “It is the custom for the bride, from modesty, to be
unable to answer; but I, her grandmother, say ‘Yes’ for her.”
The kāzī said, “Mirza Unjun Shekō will settle seven lākh of rupees upon
her.”
The Begam answered, “We forgive him two lākh, let him settle five.”
A lady laughed, and whispered to me, “The young Prince has not five
cowries of his own.”
If the bride were to give her consent in words, she would be disgraced
for ever as an impudent good-for-nothing; after repeated demands, and
sometimes _pinchings_, her voice is heard in a sort of _hem_, which, it
is taken for granted, means “Yes.”
A certain number of lumps of sugar were then sent from the bride to the
Prince, and we returned to see him sign the contract.
The kāzī having taken off the veil of gold tissue, and the fillet,
that were around the head of the bridegroom, requested him to repeat
after him, in Arabic, a portion of some of the chapters in the Kur’ān,
and, having explained the contract, asked him if he consented to it;
to which he answered in the affirmative; after which the kāzī offered
up a supplication in behalf of the betrothed pair; and several other
ceremonies were performed.
The contract, a most curious document, was then read aloud; the Prince,
having listened attentively, signed it; and several English gentlemen
added their names as witnesses, to make it as binding as possible.
The dowry is made high as the _only_ security the wife has that her
husband will not turn her away as soon as he gets tired of her.
Colonel Gardner then took the contract, and said, “I shall keep this in
_my_ possession.” I asked him “Why?” He said, “It is generally kept by
the bride; as long as she has it the husband behaves well; for a few
months he treats her kindly, and she becomes fond of him; he coaxes her
out of the contract, or he finds out where she hides it and steals it;
when once he has got it into his possession he swears she gave it up
willingly, and the contract is void.”
During the time we were signing the contract, a different scene was going
on within the zenāna.
The Prince sent the n’hut (the nose-ring) to the bride, which is
equivalent to putting the wedding-ring on the finger in Europe; it was a
large thin hoop of gold, and a ruby between two pearls was strung upon
it. On receiving it, the bride was taken from her charpāī, on which she
had reposed during all the preceding days of this ceremony, in her yellow
dress and oily paste, and was bathed. What a luxury that bath must have
been, after so many nights and days of penance! She was then dressed in
her handsomest attire, richly embroidered garments, and an immense number
of jewels; but not one atom of this costume was visible, for _over all_
was placed a large square of cloth of silver, and _over that_ another
large square, formed of cloth of gold, which covered her entirely from
head to foot, face and all. Over her forehead was bound the same sort
of fillet (sihrā) as the Prince wore, composed of strings of pearls and
strings of gold, which hung down over the veil so that she could not
see, and could scarcely breathe.
When the guns fired at the signing of the contract, the Prince ate the
lumps of sugar that had been sent him by the bride; he then arose, and,
quitting the male assembly, went into the zenāna, where he was received
by the Begam and her guests, and seated on a gaddī. Soon after Mr. James
Gardner appeared with the bride in his arms; he carried her from her own
room, according to custom, and placed her on the gaddī, by the side of
the Prince.
There she sat, looking like a lump of gold; no one could have imagined
a human being was under such a covering; with difficulty she was kept
from fainting, the heat was so excessive. Her lips and teeth had been
blackened for the first time with misī, and gold and silver dust had been
thrown over her face!
Surma (collyrium) also had been applied to her eyelids, at the roots of
the lashes, by means of a piece of silver or lead, made in the shape of a
probe without the knob at the end. The ladies in attendance on the young
Begam then performed innumerable ceremonies; they fed the Prince with
sugar-candy, and sifted sugar through his hands; they put a lump of sugar
on the head of the bride, off which he took it up in his mouth, and ate
it; sugar was placed on her shoulders, on her hands, on her feet, and it
was his duty to eat all this misrī off all those parts of her body. The
bride’s slipper was concealed under rich coverings, and the grand art
appeared to be to make the Prince eat the sugar-candy off the shoe!
The Kur’ān was produced, and some parts of it were read aloud; a large
Indian shawl was then spread over the heads of the bride and bridegroom,
as they sat on the floor, and the shawl was supported like a canopy by
the ladies in attendance. A looking-glass was put into the hands of the
Prince, he drew the veil of the bride partly aside, and they beheld each
other’s faces for the first time in the looking-glass! At this moment,
had any false description of the bride been given to the bridegroom, he
had the power of saying, “I have been deceived, the face I see is not the
face that was pourtrayed to me; I will not marry this woman.” However,
the Prince looked pleased, and so did she, for I saw her smile at this
important moment; at which time I particularly observed the expression of
their countenances. The Prince took up his bride in his arms,—the golden
lump I before described,—and placing her on a silver charpāī, sat down
by her side, and fanned her carefully. The poor girl was almost stifled
beneath the gold and silver coverings, that oppressed but did not adorn
her. By this time the night had nearly passed away; the remainder was
taken up with tedious and trivial ceremonies; at last morning dawned, and
at 11 A.M. the dowry was counted, and made ready to carry away.
When the moment arrived for the Prince to carry off his bride, the whole
of the women in the zenāna came round her, and cried and wept with all
their might and main; even those who did not regret her departure cried
and wept most furiously. Colonel Gardner was sitting there, looking pale
and miserable; when he embraced his grand-daughter, whom he loved, the
old man trembled in every limb, the tears dropped from his eyes, and he
could scarcely stand. He called the Prince to him, and told him that,
according to his treatment of his child should be his own conduct towards
him; that if he made her happy he should want for nothing; but if he made
her unhappy he would make him miserable. Colonel Gardner then said to me,
“When I gave her sister to young Gardner I knew she would be happy; but
this poor girl, who may prophesy her fate? However, she wished it; her
mother and the Begam had set their hearts upon it; and you know, my betī
(my child), women will have their own way.”
Although Colonel Gardner always called me his child, and treated me as
such, my title in the zenāna was “Fanī Bhū’a,” because his son usually
addressed me as “_Sister_ of my Father.”
When it was announced that the procession was ready, the Prince took the
bride up in his arms, in her lump-like position, and carried her to her
palanquin, the purdas of which were then let down, and fastened outside
with gold and silver cords.
This taking up a girl who is sitting on the floor in your arms, and
carrying her away without touching the ground with your knees, and
without any assistance from another person, is a difficult affair to
accomplish; to fail in doing it would be deemed unlucky. The bridegroom
performed it very cleverly.
The Prince, in the dress in which he arrived, attended the palanquin on
horseback; and the whole of the bride’s dower followed in procession,
carried on the heads of men, and displayed to view. One golden-footed
bed, and one silver-footed charpāī; a number of large trunks, covered
with red cloth, containing cashmere shawls and ready-made clothes,
sufficient to last for one year; and unmade clothes, and pieces of
kimkhwāb, gold and silver tissues, silks, and pieces of India muslin,
enough to last for three years. I saw a large pile of pājāmas for the
bride put into one of the trunks, considered sufficient for the wear
of a year; besides which, forty pieces, consisting of coloured silks
and gold brocades, for the same article of dress, were sent unmade, and
deemed sufficient for three years to come. Two elephants, several horses,
a very handsome bilee for the lady herself, and several raths for the
ladies in attendance upon her; as also a palanquin. Then came, carried
on trays, dishes of various sorts, for the household, which were made of
pure silver; ewers and chilamchīs of the same; also for the cook-room,
every article in iron or copper necessary for the establishment of a
newly-married couple; and all these things were of the best description.
The jewels for the bride, which were very handsome and very valuable,
were carried in state, together with a pāndan for holding betel, and
all the ingredients for pān; another box, with partitions for spices,
cardamums, &c.; a misī-dān for holding misī (a powder made of vitriol,
&c.), with which they tinge the teeth of a black colour; a surmā-dān,
for holding surmā (the collyrium which they apply to the eyes, to give
them a brilliant appearance); an atr-dān, a gulabpash (for sprinkling
rose-water); and every article for the toilet of an Asiatic lady. Quilts,
mattresses, pillows, carpets, boxes, lamps; in fact, an endless list;
besides male and female slaves, to attend on the newly-married people. A
Kur’ān, for the bridegroom, was also carried in procession.
Every thing necessary for the use of a native lady is sent on such an
occasion, and these articles are provided for years; head and heel ropes
for the horses, and even wooden pegs to secure them, and the bullocks,
are sent with the lady, that nothing may be wanting.
The Prince took his bride to his tents, and a remarkable ceremony was
there witnessed by Mr. Vigne, which he thus relates:—
“I was admitted, as a great favour, to see a custom, peculiar, I
believe, to the Timūrians, and which perhaps no European ever saw
before. Immediately after the marriage ceremony the bridegroom has the
bride taken to his home; but before she quitted her palanquin, which
was set down close to it, she thrust her bared foot—a very pretty one,
and dyed with henna at the extremities—through the sliding doors, and
the bridegroom touched her great toe with the blood of a goat, which
I saw him kill with his own hands, whilst yet in his bridal dress and
turban, by then and there cutting its throat. When this was done, the
bride withdrew her foot, and I made my bow, and the bride and bridegroom
retired to their inner apartments.”
By the time the procession had quitted the gates of the zenāna, I was
very glad to return to my own rooms to bathe preparatory to breakfast. I
had eaten nothing during the night but cardamums and prepared betel-nut:
had smoked a little of Colonel Gardner’s hooqŭ, and had drank nothing
but tea. Mr. Gardner prepared some pān for me in a particular fashion:
I ate it, and found it very refreshing. Pān, so universally eaten in
India, is made of the leaf of the piper betel, a species of pepper plant,
called pān supéarie and betel-nut; but this betel-nut is not the nut of
the piper betel, but of the areca catechu, a palm fifty feet in height.
The betel-nut is cut up in small bits and wrapped up in the pān-leaf
with lime cuttie, which is a bitter gum resin, an astringent vegetable
extract, the produce of a species of mimosa (chadira) catechu Japonica;
called kuth by the natives, and some slaked lime, or chunā. Pān at
marriage feasts is tied up in packets of a triangular shape, and covered
with gold and silver leaf and enamelled foil of bright colours: the lime
cuttie dyes the gums and tongue a deep red.
I was quite fresh and free from headache: had I sat up all night in
England, where we eat supper, it would have made me ill. Colonel Gardner
came in to breakfast, and kissing me on the forehead, said, “Mera betī
(my child), you are less fatigued than any one.” The Prince lived with
his bride at the tents for three days, after which they returned to
Colonel Gardner’s to perform the final ceremony of playing the chāotree.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
THE CHĀOTREE.
“ONE SNAKE HAS BIT THEM ALL[150].”
“THE PRINCESS HAS GROWN FOOLISH, SHE PELTS HER OWN RELATIONS WITH
SWEETMEATS, OTHERS WITH STONES[151].”
“THEY HAVE SCATTERED DATŪRA (thorn apple) IN THE AIR[152].”
_i.e._ the people are all gone mad.
The Chāotree—Timūrian Dance—Churees—Finale of the
Wedding—Jhanee Khanum—The Zenāna Doll—Jealousy of the
Natives—Meals of the Slave Girls—Tara the pretty Slave—Conduct
of English Ladies considered extraordinary—Poppy-heads—Devotion
of Native Women to their Husbands—Illness of Colonel
Gardner—Burial-ground of the Family—My Departure—Death of
Colonel Gardner, and of his Begam—Orders of Knighthood—Remarks
on the Muhammadān Religion and the Punishments of the Grave.
1835, _April 2nd_.—The chāotree was to be played this day, it being the
finale of the wedding. When the Prince and Shubbeah arrived at Khāsgunge
they came into the zenāna, and were seated on the gaddī; a large number
of trays, containing fruits and vegetables of every description, fresh
from the garden, were placed before them, with sugar, &c. Shubbeah had
divested herself of her bridal attire, and wore the peshwāz, the court
dress of Delhi, which was made of Benares tissue of gold and silver, and
she wore all her jewels. Nine fruits of different sorts were wrapped in a
cloth, and suspended round her waist by her attendants; it had a curious
effect, because the whole was placed beneath her garments; she arose,
encumbered with these fruits, and made salām to each of the four corners
of the room. Her hair was then decked with natural flowers, her face
having previously been covered with silver dust; and she and the Prince
were both fed with sugar off a rupee. A stick, ornamented with silver
tissue, was given to him, and another to her, with which they pretended
to beat each other; these silver wands were presented to all the ladies,
and wands covered with flowers were given to the slaves. For some days
before the chāotree, the Begam had been employed in teaching the ladies
in the zenāna and the slave girls a particular dance, the ancient
Princess herself dancing with them, with a silver wand in her hand. I
mentioned this to Colonel Gardner; he said, “It is very remarkable that,
at weddings, all the ladies of this family perform this particular nāch,
but at no other time do they dance; it would lower their dignity.” This
is an old Tartar dance, and always performed at weddings amongst the
Timūrians; it is the dastūr. The tamāshā consisted in beating each other
with these silver sticks, and throwing handfuls of fruits, of turnips,
of oranges, of pomegranates, in fact, any thing that could be seized
from the trays, at each other; the slaves joining in the fun, breaking
the glass windows by accident, and doing much damage. The more you pelt
a person, the greater the compliment; sharp jealousy was created in many
a breast this day, the source of much anxiety afterwards. This is called
playing the chāotree, and finishes the ceremonies of the wedding.
Soon after, a woman came in, with a large basket full of chūrīs for
the arms (bracelets), which were made of rings of glass, ornamented
with beads. Every body at the wedding, from the Begam to the youngest
slave, had chūrīs put on their arms; I was also decorated. These rings
are extremely small; to put them on requires considerable art, it being
necessary to mull the hand, and render it very pliant, before it can pass
through so very small a circumference as that of the churee.
Thus ended the wedding of Prince Unjun Shekō and Shubbeah Begam. They
quitted their tents, and went to reside at a pretty little fort and
indigo factory, the property of Colonel Gardner, at Moreechee.
The dūlhān (bride) visits her mother on the four first Fridays after her
marriage, on each of which the dūlhā (bridegroom) is bribed with a full
suit.
“A marriage may be celebrated with a mŭn of rice as well as a mŭn of
pearls[153].”
Another wedding immediately began, that of Jhanee Khanum, an adopted
daughter of Colonel Gardner’s, a slave girl; but I did not stay to
witness it, having before seen the grand display.
It is the custom in the zenāna for every young lady to adopt the child of
a slave, which serves as a doll, an amusement for her. Shubbeah had an
adopted child, for whom she will have eventually to provide; and every
lady in the zenāna had an adopted daughter of the same description. The
slaves are a set of the most idle, insolent, good-tempered, thievish,
laughing girls I ever saw. I should think, counting babies, slaves and
all, there must have been two hundred souls within the four walls of
Colonel Gardner’s zenāna.
The prince allowed his brothers to see the bride the day of the wedding,
but said he should not allow them to see her in future. A native woman
thinks this sort of jealousy very flattering, and prides herself upon it.
The mother of Shubbeah was the happiest of the happy: in her idea, her
child had made the finest match in the world, by marrying a prince of the
house of Delhi, although she was brought up a Christian, he a follower of
the prophet. Her other daughter was happily married, her husband being
very fond of native life and native customs.
At noon all the slave girls came for their dinners; each had given her a
great chapātī (cake of flour) as large as a plate, and this was filled
brim full from two great vessels of curry and rice. This repast took
place again at eight in the evening. One day, just as they were beginning
their meal, I sat down in the verandah and played an Hindostanee air
on a sitar (a native instrument made of a gourd); up started all the
slaves in an instant and set to, dancing with their food in their hands
and their mouths full! Each slave girl carried her curry and rice on the
wheaten cake, which was about the size of a plate, and used it as such;
until having eaten the contents she finished with the cake. In spite of
their dexterity in putting the food down their throats without dropping
the rice or soiling their dresses, the fingers retain a considerable
portion of the yellow turmeric and the greasy ghee! They eat custards,
rice, and milk, and more fluid food with the hand, sucking the fingers
to clean them, and afterwards wipe them dry with a chapātī! They were
merry, and fat, and happy, unless the Begam happened to catch one out
in a theft, when the other girls punished her. Some of the slaves were
pretty girls, and great favourites. To show how little they had to do,
the following anecdote may suffice. A pretty slave girl was sitting by my
bedside; I held out my hand, and desired her to shampoo it: the girl’s
countenance became clouded, and she did not offer to do it—her name was
Tara (the Star). “Why do you not mull my hand, Tara?” said I. “Oh,” she
replied, “I never mull the hand; the other girls do that; I only mull
the Colonel Sāhib’s eyebrows. I can take the pain from them when he is
ill;—that is my duty. I will not shampoo the hand.” I laughed at her
description of the work that fell to her lot as a slave, and said, “Well,
Tara, mull my eyebrows; my head aches;” with the greatest good-humour she
complied, and certainly charmed away the pain. It is the great luxury of
the East.
I might have lived fifty years in India and never have seen a native
wedding. It is hardly possible for a European lady to be present at one.
Alaida and her sister the Evening Star learnt to read and write Persian;
a very old moonshee was allowed to teach them. Musulmānī ladies generally
forget their learning when they grow up, or they neglect it. Every thing
that passes without the four walls is reported to them by their spies:
never was any place so full of intrigue, scandal, and chit-chat as a
zenāna. Making up marriages is their great delight, and the bustle
attendant on the ceremonies. They dote upon their children, and are so
selfish they will not part from them to allow them to go to school, if
it be possible to avoid it. The girls, of course, never quit the zenāna.
Within the four walls surrounding the zenāna at Khāsgunge is a pretty
garden, with a summer-house in the centre; fountains play before it, and
they are fond of spending their time out of doors. During the rains they
take great delight in swinging under the large trees in the open air.
They never ride on horseback, or go on the water for pleasure. They are
very fond of atr of all sorts, the scent of which is overpowering in
their houses. They put scented oil on their hair; to eau-de-Cologne and
lavender-water they have the greatest aversion, declaring it to be gin,
to drink! The prophet forbade all fermented liquors, after a battle which
he nearly lost by his soldiers getting drunk, and being surprised.
The old Begam said to Colonel Gardner, “They are curious creatures, these
English ladies; I cannot understand them or their ways,—their ways are so
odd!” And yet the Begam must have seen so many European ladies, I wonder
she had not become more reconciled to our _odd ways_.
The conduct that shocked them was our dining with men not our relations,
and that too with uncovered faces. A lady’s going out on horseback is
monstrous. They could not comprehend my galloping about on that great
English horse, just where I pleased, with one or two gentlemen and the
coachman as my attendants. My not being afraid to sleep in the dark
without having half a dozen slave girls snoring around me, surprised
them. My remaining _alone_ writing in my own room, my not being unhappy
when I was alone,—in fact, they looked upon me as a very odd creature.
It was almost impossible to enjoy solitude, the slave girls were peeping
under the corner of every parda. Some one or other was always coming to
talk to me; sometimes asking me to make up a marriage! If a native lady
is relating a story, and you look incredulous, she exclaims, “I swear
to God it is true!” They are very fond of this exclamation. One day, in
the gardens, I was talking to Tara, the pretty slave girl, when she
darted away over the poppy beds, screaming out, “I swear to God there
is a ripe poppy-head!” and she came back with her ripe poppy-head, out
of which she beat the seeds on the palm of her hand, and ate them. She
then brought some more for me, which I ate in her fashion. The half-ripe
seeds of the poppy eaten raw, and fresh gathered, are like almonds; they
do not intoxicate. “Remember,” said Tara, “after dinner you shall have a
dish sent you; partake of it, you will like it.” It is made thus; gather
three or four young poppy-heads when they are full of opium, and green;
split each head into four parts, fry them in a little butter, _a very
little_, only just enough to fry them, with some pepper and salt—send
them to table, with the dessert. The flavour is very pleasant, and if
you only eat enough, you will become as tipsy as mortal may desire. We
had them often at Colonel Gardner’s; and I have felt rather sleepy from
eating them. The old nawab was in his glory when he had two or three
spoonfuls of these poppy-heads in his plate, one of which is a good dose.
I was so fond of the unripe seeds, that I never went into the garden,
but the mālī brought me ten or twelve heads, which I usually finished at
once. There were some beds of the double red poppy, especially set apart
for the Begam, the opium from that poppy being reckoned the finest; a
couple of lumps of opium were collected, and brought in daily. Colonel
Gardner said to me, “The Begam is perplexed; she wants to know how
you, a married woman, can have received the gift of a nose-ring from a
gentleman not your husband? She says the nose-ring is the bridal ring.
She is perplexed.” I had differed in opinion with a gentleman: he said,
“I will bet you a nose-ring you are in the wrong.” The native jewellers
had been at the house that morning showing their nose-rings, and other
native ornaments. I accepted the bet, and was victorious: the gentleman
presented me with a nose-ring, which I declined, because its value was
one hundred and sixty rupees, _i.e._ £16. “I will accept the n’hut I have
won, but it must be one from the bazār, which will be an exact imitation
of this ring, and will cost one rupee and a half.” It was accordingly
procured for me. The Begam having heard this story was perplexed until
it was explained to her, that I was not going to marry the gentleman, and
had only accepted the nose-ring to make a native dress perfect.
Three of the slave girls, wishing to see the world, I suppose, went to
the Begam, and asked her to give them to me. She laughed and told me
their request.
Science has not yet entered the confines of the zenāna; nature and
superstition reign supreme; nevertheless, native women suffer less on the
birth of a child than the women of Europe. The first nourishment given
an infant medicinally is composed of umaltass (cassia fistula), sugar,
aniseed water, and russote, from a colt just born! Native women do not
approve of flannel for infants, thinking it excites the skin too much.
In page 230 is the following remark by Colonel Gardner,—“Nothing can
exceed the quarrels that go on in a zenāna, or the complaints the Begams
make against each other; a common complaint is, such an one has been
practising witchcraft against me.” The following extracts will account
for their belief in witchcraft. “Aa’yeshah said, ‘His Majesty was
bewitched while he was with me, and he prayed to God, and then said, ‘O
Aa’yeshah! do you know, that verily God gave me what I asked him? Two men
came to me, one sitting at my head, the other at my feet; and one of them
said to the other, ‘What is the cause of his Majesty’s pain and illness?’
The other said, ‘The man has been bewitched.’ The other asked, ‘Who
did it?’ He said, ‘Labid-bin-As’am, the Jew.’ The first said, ‘In what
thing?’ The other replied, ‘In a comb, and in the hair which falls from
it, and in the film of the male date bud.’ And one of them said, ‘Where
has he put them?’ The other said, ‘In the well Dharwān.’ Then his Majesty
sent Alī and Omer to bring the things out of the well; and they found in
the bud an image of his Majesty, made with wax, with needles stuck into
it, and a thread tied upon it, with eleven knots in it. Then Gabriel
brought the chapters imploring protection, every verse of which repeated
opened one of the knots; and his Majesty received ease from every needle
that was pulled out of it.”
“His Highness permitted spells being used, to counteract the effects of a
malignant eye; and on those bit by snakes, or scorpions, and for sores in
the side. A man said to his Majesty, ‘We made use of charms in the time
of ignorance, may we use them now or not?’ He said, ‘Describe your spells
to me, that I may see the meaning of them; there is no fear in using
spells which do not associate any thing with God.’”
“Zainab, wife of Abdullah-bin-Masu’ud, said, ‘Abdullah saw a thread round
my neck, and said, ‘What is this?’ I said, ‘This is a thread which has
been made as a charm for me.’ Then he took and broke it to pieces; after
that he said, ‘O family of Abdullah! verily you stand not in need of this
kind of charm used by the polytheists; because I heard the Prophet say,
Verily, spells and tying to the necks of children the nails of tearing
animals, and the thread which is tied round a wife’s neck, to make her
husband love her, are all in the way of the polytheists.’”
“Then I said to Abdullah, ‘Why do you say so? Verily, I had such a pain
in my eyes that I thought they would have fallen out; and I went to a
_Jew_; and when he applied a spell I got ease.’ Then Abdullah said, ‘This
is nothing but the work of the devil; he was shaking your eyes with his
hands, and when the spell was used he stopped. It will be sufficient for
you to repeat such words as his Majesty used to say: O Cherisher of men!
remove this punishment, and give ease; thou art the giver of health,
there is no cure but from thee, the remover of sickness.’”
“A man said, ‘O messenger of God! verily the family of Jaspar are soon
affected by the baneful influence of a malignant eye; may I use spells
for them or not?’ His Majesty said, ‘Yes; for the eye has a complete
influence; because, verily, if there was a thing to overcome fate, it
most certainly would be a malignant eye.’”
Sons are of inestimable value; the birth of a daughter is almost a
calamity; but even the mother blest with a son is not likely to remain
long without a rival in the heart of her husband, since ninety-nine out
of a hundred take new wives; besides the concubines given by the mother
before marriage!
When a Muhammadan has sworn to separate himself from his wife, she
retires to her own apartments, and does not behold her husband for
four months; if they are not reconciled by the end of that time, all
their ties are broken; the woman recovers her liberty, and receives,
on quitting the house, the property settled on her by the contract of
marriage. The girls follow the mother, the boys remain with the father.
The husband cannot send her from his house until the expiration of the
four months.
One day Colonel Gardner was ill; he was in the large garden without. The
Begam begged me to go to him; she _dared not_ leave the zenāna, even to
assist her husband, who was so ill that his attendants had run in for
aid! I went to him. After a time he was better, and wished to return to
the house; he leaned on my shoulder for support, and led the way to the
burial-ground of his son Allan, just without the garden. He sat down on
a tomb, and we had a long conversation; “If it were not for old age, and
the illness it brings on,” said he, “we should never be prepared, never
ready to leave this world. I shall not last long; I shall not see you
again, my betī; I wish to be buried by the side of my son; but I have
spoken to James about it. The poor Begam, she will not survive me long;
mark my words,—she will not say much, but she will take my death to
heart, she will not long survive me: when her son Allan died she pounded
her jewels in a mortar.” Shortly afterwards we returned to the house.
It may appear extraordinary to an European lady that the Begam, in her
affliction, should have pounded her jewels in a mortar: ornaments are put
aside in times of mourning; and jewellery with native ladies is highly
prized, not merely for its own sake—that of adding to their beauty, but
as a proof of the estimation in which they are held by their husbands. If
a man be angry with his wife, he will take away her jewels, and not allow
her to wear them; if pleased, it is his delight to cover her with the
most valuable ornaments, precious stones set in pure gold. The quantity
and value of the jewellery thus ascertains the rank to which a lady
is entitled in this sort of domestic “order of merit;” the women pride
themselves upon this adornment, and delight in jewellery as much as the
men of England in stars and garters.
A lady wears slippers only out of doors, and puts them off on entering
the house; the slippers are of various forms and patterns; some of them
are square at the toes, and have iron heels. “She combs his head with the
iron heel of her slipper,” is applied to a woman who domineers over her
husband. The slippers for the ladies are of cloth, of the gayest colours,
ornamented with embroidery of gold and silver, adorned with seed pearls,
and with beetle wings, which are worked into flowers upon the cloth, and
cover the long peak that turns up over the toes.
Stockings are never worn; but I have seen little coloured socks, made of
the wool of Cashmir, worn at times during the cold season. The ankles
of a native lady are decorated with massive rings, called kurrā; those
worn by the Begam were of gold, thickly studded with jewels; the ladies
had them of solid embossed gold; and for the slaves, they were of solid
silver. These rings are generally hexagonal or octagonal, of an equal
thickness throughout, and terminated by a knob at each end. The gold
or the silver of which they are composed being pure metal, they may be
opened sufficiently to be put on or off at pleasure; the ends being
brought together by the pressure of the hand.
Another ornament consists of a great number of small bells, ghoonghroo,
strung on a cord, and worn around the ankle, hanging to the heel. It is
reckoned very correct to wear these tinkling bells; if a native wishes
to praise a woman most highly, he says, “She has never seen the sun, she
always wears bells.”
In lieu of this string of bells, another ornament is often worn, called
pāezēb, which consists of heavy rings of silver, resembling a horse’s
curb chain, but much broader, set with a fringe of small spherical bells,
all of which tinkle at every motion of the limb; and all the toes are
adorned with rings, some of which are furnished with little bells; such
rings are called ghoonghroodar chhallā. The ladies wear their dresses,
unless they be grand dresses for occasions of state, until they are
dirty; perhaps for five or six days together; the dresses are then thrown
away, and they put on new attire.
_5th._—I took leave of my dear Colonel Gardner, and quitted him with a
heavy heart, for I saw how feeble his health had become, how necessary
quiet and attention were for him, and I knew that, left to the care of
natives, his comfort would be little considered.
After my departure, I heard he endured much annoyance from domestic
concerns, and that it was too much for his feeble health. He suffered
greatly from asthma and violent headaches, and had only recently
recovered from an attack of paralysis. I was strongly tempted to return
to Khāsgunge when I heard of his illness, but was deterred from a
feeling of delicacy: an adopted child has a right to a portion of the
inheritance, and my presence might have caused the ladies of the zenāna
to imagine a sinister motive influenced me.
A gentleman who was with him afterwards told me,—“During his last
illness, Colonel Gardner often spoke of you in terms of the greatest
affection, and expressed many times his wish for your presence; I did
not write to tell you so, because the hot winds were blowing, and the
distance some five or six hundred miles.”
Had he only written to me, I would have gone dāk to Khāsgunge
immediately; what would the annoyance of hot winds or the distance have
been, in comparison with the satisfaction of gratifying the wish of
my departing friend? I had lived for weeks in his house, enjoying his
society, admiring his dignified and noble bearing, and listening with
delight to the relation of his marvellous escapes and extraordinary
adventures. His chivalric exploits and undaunted courage deserve a better
pen than mine, and he alone was capable of being his own historian.
Colonel Gardner told me, if I ever visited Delhi, he would give me an
introduction to the Nawāb Shah Zamānee Begam, the Emperor’s unmarried
sister; who would show me all that was worth seeing in the zenāna of the
palace of the King of Delhi. This pleased me greatly; so few persons
ever have an opportunity of seeing native ladies.
On the 29th of the following July my beloved friend, Colonel Gardner,
departed this life at Khāsgunge, aged sixty-five. He was buried,
according to his desire, near the tomb of his son Allan. From the time
of his death the poor Begam pined and sank daily; just as he said, she
complained not, but she took his death to heart; she died one month and
two days after his decease. Native ladies have a number of titles; her
death, names, and titles were thus announced in the papers:—“On the 31st
of August, at her residence at Khāsgunge, Her Highness Furzund Azeza
Zubdeh-tool Arrakeen Umdehtool Assateen Nuwab Mah Munzil ool Nissa Begam
Dehlmī, relict of the late Colonel William Linnæus Gardner.”
“The sound of the Nakaras and Dumana have ceased[154].”
Colonel Gardner’s Begam was entitled from her rank to the use of the
nalkī, the morchhal or fan of peacock’s feathers, and the nakara and
dumana, state kettle drums.
The following extract from Colonel Sleeman’s most interesting work will
explain the value of these articles of pomp and state:—“The Nalkee is one
of the three great insignia which the Mogul Emperors of Delhi conferred
upon independent Princes of the first class, and could never be used
by any person upon whom, or upon whose ancestors, they had not been so
conferred. These were the Nalkee, the Order of the Fish, and the fan of
Peacock’s feathers.
“These insignia could be used only by the Prince, who inherited the
sovereignty of the one on whom they had been originally conferred.
“The Order of the Fish, or Mahee Moratub, was first instituted by
Khoosroo Purwez, King of Persia, and grandson of the celebrated
Nowsherwan the Just. He ascertained from his astrologer, Aruz Khushusp,
that, when he ascended the throne, the moon was in the constellation of
the Fish; and he gave orders to have two balls made of polished steel,
which were to be called konkubas (planets), and mounted on long poles.
These two planets, with a large fish, made of gold, upon a third pole
in the centre, were ordered to be carried in all regal processions,
immediately after the King. The two konkubas are now generally made of
copper, and plated, and in the shape of a jar, instead of quite round,
as at first; but the fish is still made of gold. Two planets are always
considered necessary to one fish; and they are still carried in all
processions between the Prince and his prime minister. Noosamanee, who
ascended the throne of Persia after the Sassanians, ascertained that the
moon was in the sign Leo at the time of his accession, and ordered that
the gold head of a lion should henceforward accompany the fishes and the
two balls in all royal processions. The Persian order of knighthood is,
therefore, that of the Fish, the Moon, and the Lion; and not the Lion and
Sun, as generally supposed.
“The Emperors of the House of Timour, in Hindoostan, assumed the right of
conferring the order upon all they pleased; and they conferred it upon
the great territorial sovereigns of the country, without distinction as
to religion. He only who inherits the sovereignty can wear the order;
and I believe no Prince would venture to wear or carry the order who was
not generally reputed to have received the investiture from one of the
Emperors of Delhi.”
Reading the history of the Dynasty of Timur, the free-thinking of all the
race is remarkable; religion appeared principally to be used by them for
political purposes.
I cannot quit the zenāna without some observations on the Muhammadan
religion, and some extracts from the Kū’rān and other works on the
subject.
The Prophet was a cunning fellow, and made the religion he preached
subservient to the interests of his own sex. Muhammad, in a vision,
beheld the infernal regions; his blood curdled; behold! the greater part
of its inhabitants were women, sent there for not having obeyed their
husbands!
Obedience to the master ensured the slave—_i.e._ the wife—admittance to
Paradise.
The Prophet says, “Admonish your wives with kindness, because women
were created from a crooked bone of the side; therefore, if you wish to
straighten it, you will break it; and if you let it alone, it will always
be crooked.”
“When a woman performs the five times of prayer, and fasts the month of
Ramdān, and guards herself in purity, and obeys her husband, then tell
her to enter Paradise by whichever door she likes.” “Every woman who
dies, and her husband is pleased with her, shall enter Paradise.”
“No one woman vexes her husband in the world; but the husband’s wife in
Paradise says, ‘Vex not thy husband, may God destroy thee! because he
is nothing more than a traveller with thee; he will soon come to me in
Paradise.’”
“Verily the best of women are those who are most content with little.”
This tradition is recorded:—
“An unknown person came to the Prophet, and said,—‘O Muhammad, instruct
me in Islām!’ The Prophet said, ‘Islām is, that thou bear witness there
is no God but God, and that Muhammad is his messenger; and be stedfast
in prayer, and charitable; and fast during the month of Ramdān; and make
a pilgrimage to the Kaaba, if thou have it in thy power to go there.’
The man replied, ‘Thou hast spoken true.’ On which we wondered at his
questioning the Prophet, and then telling him that he spoke the truth.
Then the man said, ‘Instruct me in Imān.’ The Prophet said, ‘That thou
believe in God, and in his angels, and in his books, and in his prophets,
and in the day of resurrection, and that every virtue and vice is by
the will of God.’ The man said, ‘Thou hast spoken true.’ He then said,
‘Inform me in Ih’sān.’ The Prophet said, ‘That thou worship God as if
thou sawest him; for though thou dost not see him, know that he seeth
thee.’ The man said, ‘Thou hast spoken true.’ He then said, ‘Instruct me
concerning the resurrection.’ The Prophet said, ‘I am no wiser than the
questioner.’ Omer said, ‘After this, the man departed, and I remained
sitting a long time; after which the Prophet said to me, ‘Didst thou
know who that person was?’ I replied, ‘God and his prophet know best.’
Muhammad said, ‘Verily it was Gabriel, he came for the purpose of
instructing you in your faith.’”
The Ramdān is the ninth month of the Muhammadan year, in which a rigid
fast, from daybreak till night, is enjoined to all Musalmāns; the reason
assigned for this is, that the Kū’rān began to descend from heaven in
this month.
The Kaaba is the square temple at Mecca; that is, the Kibla of the
Muhammadans, or place to which they turn their faces when at prayer. The
Kibla of the Jews was the Temple of Jerusalem.
“When the month of Ramdān arrives, the doors of Paradise are opened, and
the doors of the infernal regions are shut, and the devils are chained by
the leg. The person who fasts the month of Ramdān, on account of belief
in God, shall be pardoned all his past faults.”
“Keep not fast until you see the new moon; and if the moon be hidden from
you by clouds, count the days. Eat at the first dawn of day, because it
gives increase of strength for performing the fast.”
The prophet used to say, when he saw the new moon, “O Lord! make the new
moon rise upon us, safe from calamities, and firm in faith, and pure in
heart, and secure in Islām. Oh, new moon! our Lord, and your Lord, is
God.”
“When the darkness of the night advances from the west, and day follows
from the western quarter, I mean the sunset, the keeper of fast may begin
to eat.”
Those who profess this religion are interdicted from eating and drinking
between the dawn and appearance of the stars at night. On the 27th of
this month, the Kū’rān began to descend; and every prayer offered up that
night will be complied with.
The Adhān, or call to prayer, is to repeat the Jacbir twice over with a
loud voice, as a signal for prayer. The prophet ordered the Muadhd’hin,
the person who calls the people to prayer, to put his two forefingers
into his ears, when repeating the Adhān, because it strengthens the
voice.
“The Jacbir: God is greatest, God is greatest; I bear witness there is no
God but God, I bear witness there is no God but God; I bear witness that
Mohammud is the messenger, I bear witness that Mohammud is the messenger.
Hasten to prayer, hasten to prayer; hasten to redemption, hasten to
redemption. God is greatest, God is greatest; there is no God but God.”
“Verily, Friday is the chief of days in the estimation of God, and it is
greater than either the festival of sacrifice, or that of Ramdān. Why do
they call Friday Jumâh? or the assembly? Because, on that day the clay of
thy father Adam was collected, and on that day will be destruction, and
rising from the dead; and on it resurrection, and in the last three sáâts
of Friday there is one in which the requests of a servant are granted.
“Pronounce ye many blessings on me on Friday, because the angels are
present. There is not a Musalmān that dies in the day or night of Friday,
that God doth not preserve from the punishments of the grave.
“He who visits the graves of his father and mother, or one of them, on
every Friday, his faults will be pardoned: and there will be written, in
the register of his actions, a doer of good to his father and mother.
Visiting and seeing graves dispels worldly wishes and gives disgust to
them, and reminds of futurity.”
The efficacy of prayer is greatly enhanced by the use of the miswác, a
kind of tooth-brush made of the twig or the root of a tree, beaten at
the end into a brush. When the prophet stood up to prayer in the night
he rubbed and washed his mouth with the miswác. The Musalmanī ladies
regarded our European tooth-brushes with horror, and considered them
unfit to be used, as being formed from the bristles of the unclean beast.
“When you hear a cock crow, then supplicate God for an increase of his
beneficence, because the cock sees an angel and crows at the sight; and
when you hear an ass bray, seek protection with God from the devil and
say, ‘I take protection with God from the cast-out devil, because the ass
has seen the devil.’”
Pilgrimage to Mecca once during life is necessary for every Musalmān: and
pilgrimage for women is as the Holy War for the men.
The prophet performed his farewell pilgrimage after an interval of ten
years, nine of which he spent at Medinah.
“When the prophet arrived at the Kaaba, he kissed the Black Stone, then
encompassed the kaaba three times in a quick step, and walked four
times in a gentle pace; after which he came to the stone on which is
the impression of Abraham’s foot, and repeated this revelation; ‘Take
the station of Abraham for a place of prayer.’ Then he gave the salām.
One hundred camels were brought for sacrifice, of which the prophet
slew sixty-five with his own hands at the place of sacrifice, which is
in Mina. The prophet kissed the Black Stone and the Yemáni Pillar of
the Kaaba, which pillar belonged to the original structure of the kaaba
ascribed to Abraham, and on that account it is held in higher reverence
than any of the others.
“The black stone came down from Paradise, and at the time of its descent
it was whiter than milk, and the sins of the children of Adam have caused
it to be black, by their touching it. ‘Verily, God will suspend the Black
Stone, on the day of resurrection, when it will have two eyes, by which
it will see and know all those who touched it, and kissed it; and it
will have a tongue by which it will speak, and it will give evidence for
all those who touched and kissed it on Imàn.’ ‘God has appointed seventy
angels over the Yemáni Pillar.’
“The Hindoos insist, that the Black Stone in the wall of the Kaaba, or
sacred temple of Mecca, is no other than a form of Mahadēo; and that it
was placed there by Mohammud out of contempt; but the newly-converted
pilgrims would not give up the worship of the Black Stone, and sinistrous
portents forced the ministers of the new religion to connive at it.”
The pilgrims to Mecca visit the graves of Adam, and Noah, and Ali, who
was buried near them on the Mount on which Noah’s Ark rested, and make
salām also to the grave of Eve, said to be nine yards long!
“It is said God created Adam a handsome figure; he was sixty cubits in
stature, and his children also; since which time they have degenerated;
but when they enter into Paradise, they will be as tall as Adam was. His
stature was sixty cubits, and he was seven cubits broad.”
The Muhammadan religion is intolerant: “His Majesty said, ‘Alláho-Acber
I bear witness that I am God’s servant, and sent by him.’ And he added,
‘O Bill’al! get up, and give notice that none will enter Paradise but
Musalmāns.’
“There are six duties from one Musalmān to another; to salute each other
when they meet; to accept each other’s invitations to dinner; to say ‘God
have mercy upon you!’ after sneezing; to visit the sick; and to follow
each other’s biers when dead; and for one Musalmān to wish for another
what he wishes for himself.” The Muhammadans stand in great awe of the
punishments of the grave. “The prophet of God said, ‘When a Musalmān is
interrogated in his grave about his God, his prophet, and religion, he
will give evidence to the unity of God, and the mission of his prophet,
and will say, My religion is Islām.’ When a servant is put into his grave
and mankind leave him; verily he hears the noise they make in walking
away: when two black angels, with blue eyes, come to the dead body, the
name of the one Munkir, the other Nak’ir, and cause it to sit up, and
say to it, ‘Who is thy defender?’ and it will say, ‘My defender is God.’
‘And what is thy religion?’ It will say, ‘My religion is Islām.’ Then
they will ask, ‘Who is this man who was sent to thee?’ It will say, ‘He
is the messenger of God.’ ‘And how didst thou know he was the prophet of
God?’ It will say, ‘I read the book of God, and put faith in it.’ Then
a voice will come from heaven, saying, ‘My servant hath spoken true.’
And a bed shall be prepared and clothes provided for it from Paradise;
and a door shall be opened for it towards Paradise, when a fragrant gale
will breathe upon it from above, and a place will be opened for it in
the grave to see out of; but the soul of an infidel will be replaced in
its body in the grave. Two angels will come to it and say, ‘Who is thy
cherisher?’ It will say, ‘Alas! alas! I know not.’ Then the angels will
ask about Muhammad. It will reply, ‘Alas! I know him not.’ A voice will
then come from heaven, saying, ‘This servant hath lied; then give it a
bed from hell, and clothes also, and open for it a door towards hell.’
Then a hot wind will come to it, and its grave will be contracted so
as to break the bones on each side; after which an angel will come to
it, deaf and dumb, with a mace of iron, with which, if a mountain were
struck, it would turn to dust. Then the angel will strike the body with
the mace, the noise of which will be heard by every thing between the
east and west, excepting the genii and man, and it will turn to dust;
after which, a soul will be returned to it, and it will be tormented to
the day of resurrection.”
The iron mace with which the angels torment the wicked is, it is said,
the goorz, a sort of iron club, pointed at one end, and having a knob on
the other covered with spikes. This sort of mace is carried by Muhammadan
fakīrs, the goorz-mar, who believe the wounds made by it will quickly
heal from the application of their spittle, by the influence of Syud
Ahmad Kabeer.
The prophet said, “When any one of you dieth, his place is shown him
morning and evening, whether in heaven or hell; and it is said to him,
‘This grave is thy sitting place until the day of resurrection.’”
“Aa’yeshah said, ‘A Jew came to me, and mentioned the punishments of the
grave.’ Then I interrogated the prophet about them, and he said, ‘Yes,
punishments in the grave are true: and I always observed the prophet, at
the end of every prayer, implore God to defend him from the sufferings of
the grave.’”
The sums of money and the quantity of food distributed by Colonel
Gardner’s Begam in charity was surprising; she was a religious woman, and
fulfilled, as far as was in her power, the ordinances of her religion.
The necessity of giving alms is strongly inculcated. “To whomsoever God
gives wealth, and he does not perform the charity due from it, his wealth
will be made into the shape of a serpent on the day of resurrection,
which shall not have any hair upon its head; and this is a sign of its
poison and long life; and it has two black spots upon its eyes; and it
will be twisted round his neck, like a chain, on the day of resurrection:
then the serpent will seize the man’s jawbones, and will say, ‘I am thy
wealth, from which thou didst not give in charity; I am thy treasure,
from which thou didst not separate any alms.’ After this the prophet
repeated this revelation. ‘Let not those who are covetous of what God of
his bounty hath granted them, imagine that their avarice is better for
them: nay, rather it is worse for them. That which they have covetously
reserved shall be bound as a collar about their necks on the day of
resurrection.’”
FOOTNOTES
[1] Oriental Proverbs and Sayings, No. 2.
[2] Ibid. No. 3.
[3] Ibid. No. 4.
[4] Oriental Proverbs, No. 5.
[5] Ibid. No. 6.
[6] Ibid. No. 7.
[7] Oriental Proverbs, No. 8.
[8] Oriental Proverbs, No. 9.
[9] Drank grog.
[10] A technical term used in the whale fishery.
[11] Oriental Sayings, No. 10.
[12] Oriental Proverbs, No. 11.
[13] Oriental Proverbs, No. 12.
[14] Oriental Proverbs, No. 13.
[15] Oriental Proverbs, No. 14.
[16] Bilwa, or Bilva, the Cratæva Marmelos of Linnæus.
[17] Moor’s Hindoo Pantheon.
[18] Oriental Proverbs, No. 15.
[19] Oriental Proverbs, No. 16.
[20] See Sketch, “The Thug’s Dice,” No. 4.
[21] Oriental Proverbs, No. 17.
[22] Alluding to the mutiny at Barrackpore.
[23] The gentleman of the house. The master.
[24] “Cicero, Demosthenes, Judge Blackstone, and myself.” Edward
Christian (subaudi Paul), _passim_.
[25] See Appendix, No. 1.
[26] Oriental Proverbs, No. 18.
[27] See the Sketch entitled “a Dhrum sālā—Bene Mahadēo Ghāt.”
[28] Guzrattee Proverb.
[29] Oriental Proverbs, No. 19.
[30] Oriental Sayings, No. 20.
[31] See the sketch of the Ice Pits, with this man and his mashk
(water-bag).
[32] European gentleman.
[33] Nos. 1 to 10.
[34] Oriental Proverbs, No. 21.
[35] The flour or meal of pulse, particularly of chanā (cicer arietinum).
[36] Khīsās.
[37] Oriental Proverbs, No. 22.
[38] A Hindoo queen or princess.
[39] In Volume the Second.
[40] Oriental Proverbs, No. 23.
[41] Ibid. No. 24.
[42] Oriental Proverbs, No. 25.
[43] Acacia Arabica, or Babool.
[44] Oriental Proverbs, No. 26.
[45] Oriental Proverbs, No. 27.
[46] Oriental Proverbs, No. 28.
[47] Mishcat ul Masabih.
[48] Ward on the History, Literature, and Religion of the Hindoos.
[49] See Appendix, No. 17.
[50] Oriental Proverbs, No. 29.
[51] See the plate entitled “The Thug’s Dice,” in which Fig. 4 represents
a small brass lota covered by a sprig of the kala toolsee.
[52] See the plate entitled “The Thug’s Dice,” in which fig. 2 represents
the lāthī.
[53] Alexander the Second, King of Delhi.
[54] In the plate entitled “Superstitions of the Natives,” No. 6 is a
representation of these coins.
[55] Properly Banglā.
[56] See Appendix, No. 13.
[57] Oriental Proverbs and Sayings, No. 30.
[58] See Appendix, No. 15.
[59] Oriental Proverbs and Sayings, No. 31.
[60] Oriental Proverbs, No. 32.
[61] Oriental Proverbs, No. 33.
[62] From the Calcutta Literary Gazette, inserted in the Government
Gazette, October 7th, 1830.
[63] Appendix, No. 16.
[64] Oriental Proverbs, No. 33.
[65] Ibid. 35.
[66] Oriental Proverbs, No. 36.
[67] Most respectful reverence.
[68] Oriental Proverbs, No. 37.
[69] Ibid. No. 38.
[70] A karor is ten millions.
[71] Oriental Proverbs, No. 39.
[72] Ibid. No. 40.
[73] Oriental Proverbs, No. 41.
[74] Oriental Proverbs, No. 42.
[75] Oriental Proverbs, No. 43.
[76] See Appendix, No. 18.
[77] Oriental Proverbs, No. 44.
[78] Ibid. 45.
[79] Oriental Proverbs, No. 46.
[80] Oriental Proverbs, No. 47.
[81] Oriental Proverbs, No. 48.
[82] Oriental Proverbs, No. 49.
[83] Ibid. No. 50.
[84] Ibid. No. 51.
[85] Vide Moor’s Pantheon.
[86] Appendix, No. 19.
[87] See Appendix, No. 20.
[88] Ibid. No. 21.
[89] Oriental Proverbs, No. 52.
[90] Convolvulus speciosus, (Linn.) Broad-leaved bindweed.
[91] Oriental Proverbs, No. 53.
[92] Ibid. No. 54.
[93] Gram, chanā, cicer arietinum, chick pea, called by mistake _chick
weed_, in page 101.
[94] Oriental Proverbs, No. 55.
[95] The Carob-tree, St. John’s bread, Ceratonia Siliqua.
[96] Pilgrim.
[97] Mishcat ul Masabih.
[98] Oriental Proverbs, No. 56.
[99] Braided locks.
[100] Fig. 4, in the plate entitled “Jugunnathu,” is a sketch of the idol
Gopalu.
[101] In the plate entitled “Jugunnathu,” No. 9 represents this bead.
[102] Ibid. No. 10.
[103] This was a rude imitation of the real idol, as represented in No. 1
of the plate entitled “Jugunnathu.”
[104] Jungle grass—sarput or sirki—saccharum procerum.
[105] See Appendix, No. 24.
[106] Oriental Proverbs, No. 57.
[107] Ibid. No. 58.
[108] Oriental Proverbs, No. 59.
[109] Oriental Proverbs, No. 60.
[110] Mishcat ul Masabih.
[111] Shakespear’s Dict.
[112] Appendix, No. 25.
[113] Revelation of St. John.
[114] Oriental Proverbs, No. 61.
[115] Oriental Proverbs, No. 62.
[116] Oriental Proverbs, No. 63.
[117] Ipomæa quamoclit.
[118] Asclepias rosea.
[119] Ipomæa speciosa, or convolvolus speciosus; broad-leaved bindweed.
[120] Convolvolus grandiflora.
[121] Water-lily.
[122] Oriental Proverbs, No. 64.
[123] See Appendix, No. 28.
[124] Oriental Proverbs, No. 65.
[125] Oriental Proverbs, No. 66.
[126] Oriental Proverbs, No. 67.
[127] Extract from Captain Franklin’s Reign of Shah Aulam.
[128] Oriental Proverbs and Sayings, No. 68.
[129] Oriental Proverbs, No. 69.
[130] Oriental Proverbs, No. 70.
[131] Oriental Proverbs, No. 71.
[132] Oriental Proverbs, No. 72.
[133] Oriental Proverbs, No. 73.
[134] Ibid. 74.
[135] Ibid. 75.
[136] Ibid. 76.
[137] Ibid. 77.
[138] Oriental Proverbs, No. 78.
[139] Ibid. 79.
[140] Oriental Proverbs, No. 80.
[141] Qanoon-e-Islam.
[142] Oriental Proverbs, No. 81.
[143] Oriental Proverbs, No. 82.
[144] Oriental Proverbs, No. 83.
[145] Ibid. 84.
[146] Qanoon-e-islam.
[147] Oriental Proverbs, No. 85.
[148] Qanoon-e-islam.
[149] Oriental Proverbs, No. 86.
[150] Oriental Proverbs, No. 87.
[151] Ibid. 88.
[152] Ibid. 89.
[153] Oriental Proverbs, No. 90.
[154] Oriental Proverbs and Sayings, No. 100.
ORIENTAL PROVERBS AND SAYINGS.
“_Masal i mârūf pirāyah-e-zabānhā._”
“A proverb is an ornament to language.”
“_Har chi bādābād-i-mā kishte dar āb āndākhtem._”
No. 1. “Let the result be what it may, I have launched my boat.”
_i.e._ The die is cast. The bolt is shot.
“_Ghosh kh’ābānīh._”
2. Lit.—“He put his ears to sleep.”
“_Tu marā dil dih o dilīrī bīn._
_Rubah-e-kh’esh kh’ān o shere bīn._”
3. “Encourage me, and then behold my bravery:—call me your own fox, and
then you will see me perform the exploits of a lion!”
“_Chi bāk az mauj-i-bahr ānrā ki bāshad Nauh kishtibān._”
4. “What fear need he have of the waves of the sea, who has Noah for his
pilot?”
_i.e._ He is safe who has a powerful protector.
“_Kalandar har-chi goyad dīdah goyad._”
5. “Whatever the wandering traveller says, he does so from having seen
that of which he speaks.”
“_Unt dāgh hote the makrā abhī dāgh hone ko āyā._”
6. “The camels were being branded (with hot irons for the public
service), and the spider came to be marked also.”
“_Mekke gaye na Medine gaye bīch hī bīch hājjī the._”
7. “He neither went to Mekka nor Medina, but was a pilgrim nevertheless.”
“_Dharyārē men kahūn lauharyāre to kān de._”
8. “I speak to those who have daughters, and let those who have sons
listen.”
“_Bālā-e-tawīlah bar sar-i-maimūn._”
9. “The misfortunes of the stable (fall) on the head of the monkey.”
It is the custom in Hindostān to keep a monkey in or near a stable, to
guard the horses from the influence of evil eyes. This proverb is applied
whenever a poor man or a servant is punished for the crimes of his
superior.
“_Sūndhī bawā chatāī kā lahangā._”
10. “A handsome sister, with a mat for a petticoat.”
“_Dekha shahr-i-Bangālā dant lāl munh kālā._”
11. “I have seen Bengal, there the teeth are red, and the mouth is black.”
_i.e._ From chewing betel.
“_Karz shauhar-i-mardān ast._”
12. “Debt is a man’s husband.”
_i.e._ A man in debt is always at the mercy of his creditors, as a woman
at her husband’s.
“_Ek aur ek igārah._”
13. “One and one make eleven.”
From the way of writing (11) in figures.
“_Āmadan ba irādat raftan ba ijāzat._”
14. “Coming is voluntary, but departing depends upon permission.”
“_Fakīr kī surat hī sawāl hai._”
15. “The appearance of a fakīr is his petition in itself.”
“_Shāh-isparam az do barg paidā ast._”
16. “The sweet basil is known by its two leaves.”
“_Sonā jāne kase aur mānus jāne base._”
17. “Gold is known by the touchstone, and a man by living with him.”
“_Zahir-āsh az shaikh bātin az Shaitān._”
18. “Externally he is a saint, but internally he is a devil.”
“_Nīm na mithā ho sech gar ghī se._”
19. “The nīm-tree (which is very bitter) will not become sweet, though
watered with syrup and clarified butter.”
“_Tum ghī ke dīye jalāo._”
20. “Light thou the lamp of ghī.”
(Clarified butter.)
“_Hawā ke ghore par sawār hain._”
21. “He rides a steed of air.”
“Chateaux d’Espagne.”—To build castles in the air.
“_Jā ko piyā chāhen wuhī suhāgan._”
22. “She who is beloved is the wife.”
“_Kyā dam kā bharosā hai?_”
23. “What reliance is there on life?”
“_Bakht-i-bad bā kase ki yār bavad_
_Sag gazad gar shutur-sawār bavad._”
24. “He who has ill luck for his companion will be bitten by a dog,
although mounted on a camel.”
“_Bhūkhe se kahā do aur do kyā? kahā chār rotīyān._”
25. “If you ask a hungry man how much two and two make—he answers Four
loaves.”
“_Shirīn zabānī o lutf o khūshī Tu agar pīle bā mūe kashī._”
26. “By sweet words and gentleness you may lead an elephant by a hair.”
“_Ghawās gar andeshah kunad kām-i-nihang_
_Hargiz na kunad dar girān-māyah._”
27. “If the diver were to think on the jaws of the crocodile, he would
never gather precious pearls.”
“_Kāle ke āge chirāgh nahīn jaltā._”
28. “The lamp burns not before the black snake.”
(Which is supposed to carry a precious jewel in its head.)
“_Khatt pona to adhā mulākāt._”
29. “A letter is half an interview.”
“_Gharīb-parwar salāmat._”
30. “Cherisher of the poor—peace be unto you.”
31. “_Allah, Muhammad, Ali, Fatima, Hussun, Hussein._”
“_Chyūnte kī jo maut ānī hai to par nikalti hai._”
32. “When ants are about to die they get wings.”
“_Nayā naukar hiran māre._”
33. “A new servant will catch deer.”
“_Rāst darogh ba gardan-i-rāwī._”
34. “The truth or falsehood of the story rests on the head of the
narrator.”
_i.e._ I tell you the story as it was told to me, but I am not answerable
for the truth of it.
“_Baghl men chhurī munh men Rām! Rām!_”
35. “The dagger in his bosom and salutation in his mouth.”
“_Fāl-i-bad bar zabān bad bāshad._”
36. “A bad omen ought not to be mentioned.”
“_Ishk o mashk panhān na mī-mānad._”
37. “Love and musk do not remain concealed.”
“_Har jā ki parī-rukhī ast dīve bā o ast._”
38. “Wherever there is a fairy-faced damsel, she is attended by a demon.”
“_Bhale bābā band pare Gobar chhor kashīde pare._”
39. “Oh! Father! I have got into a strange difficulty, I have left off
picking cow-dung, and am employed in embroidery.”
“_Rīsh-i-khudrā ba dast-i-dígare ma-dih._”
40. “Do not put your beard into the hands of another.”
_i.e._ Do not put yourself into the power of another person.
“_Ādmī sā pakherū koi nahīn._”
41. “There is no bird like a man.”
_i.e._ So volatile and unsteady.
“_Kal kase dekhā hai?_”
42. “Who has seen to-morrow?”
_i.e._ Enjoy to-day, no one knows what may happen to-morrow.
“_Us se achhā khudā kā nām._”
43. “The name of God is better than this.”
_i.e._ This is the best of all.
“_Āh dar jigar na mānad._”
44. “There was not left even a sigh in his heart.”
_i.e._ He was totally destitute.
“_Dūdhon nahāo pūton phaliyo!_”
45. “May you bathe in milk and be fruitful in children!”
“_Tū ki īn kadar az khwāb mahzūzī chirā na mi-mīrī?_”
46. “You who are so fond of sleep, why don’t you die at once?”
“_Ber tale kā bhūt._”
47. “A demon under a Bér-tree.”
That attached to Bér-trees (Ficus Indica) is said to be exceedingly
obstinate—hence applied to a very importunate person of whom you cannot
get rid.
“_Us ki jar hain to Pātāl ko pahunch gaye hain._”
48. “Its roots have already reached to Pātāl.”
_i.e._ The infernal regions. Said of a person who has established himself
firmly in any situation.
“_Apnī Rādhā ko yād kar._”
49. “Attend to your own Rādhā.”
_i.e._ Attend to your own business.
“_Jhūth-bolne men to sarfah kyā?_”
50. “What need of economy in telling lies?”
51. “_Jhūth na bole, to pet na phut jāe?_”
Transcriber’s Note: The meaning of this proverb was omitted in the
original.
“_Khānah-i-khālī dīv mī-gīrānd._”
52. “Demons take possession of an empty house.”
“_Zamīndārī dūb kī jar hai._”
53. “Landed property is like the root of the Dūb-grass.”
_i.e._ It is not easily destroyed.
“_Shamlah ba mikdār-i-îlm._”
54. “The pendant part of the turban should be in proportion to the
learning.”
It was formerly the custom of the learned to have the end of the turban
hanging down the back.
“_Gāchh men kathal honth men tīl._”
55. “The jack fruit is upon the tree, and oil on your lips.”
“_Hāl men fāl dahī men mosal._”
56. “Talking to a man who is in ecstasy (of a religious nature, feigned
or practised by fakīrs) is like beating curds with a pestle.”
“_Merā māthā tabhī thonkā thā._”
57. “It was hammered upon my forehead.”
“_Takdīr chū sābik ast tadbīr chi saud?_”
58. “What is the use of taking precautions, since what has been
pre-ordained must happen?”
“_Jaisā des waisā bhes._”
59. “Every country hath its own fashions.”
“_Jādū hakk hai karne-wālā kāfir._”
60. “Magic is truth, but the magician is an infidel.”
“_Gul se hamāre nishīn Siwā kānte ke nahīn._”
61. “My only portion of the rose is the thorn.”
“_Nigāh-e-darwesh âīn-i-sawāl._”
62. “The sight of a beggar is a request personified.”
“_Ek gharīb ko mārā thā to nau man charbī._”
63. “I have killed such a poor man as you, and have got nine mŭns of fat
out of him.”
“_Jal men basī kamudinī chandā basī ākās._
_Jo jan jā ke man basī so jan tā ke pās._”
64. “The Nymphæa dwells in the water, and the moon in the sky, (but) he
that resides in the heart of another is always present with him.”
The Nymphæa expands its flowers in the night, and thence is feigned to be
in love with the moon.
“_Himmat-i-mardān hārhā dārad._”
65. “Resolution overcomes great difficulties.”
“_Har-kirā sabr nīst hikmat nīst._”
66. “He who has not patience, possesses not philosophy.”
“_Ki gumbad har-chi goyī goyad-at bāz._”
67. “Whatever you say to a dome, it says to you again.”
“_Kab mue kab kire pare._”
68. “When he died and when the worms ate him (I know not).”
“_Ab bhī merā murdah tere zinde par bhārē hai._”
69. “My dead are better than your living.”
“_Har ki dil pesh-i-dilbarē dārad,_
_Rīsh dar dast-i-dīgare dārad._”
70. “Whoever hath given his heart to a beloved object, hath put his beard
into the hands of another.”
“_Bī-tāb-i-îshk har-chi kunad hakk ba dast-i-o ast._”
71. “Whatever a man does who is afflicted with love, he must be excused
for it.”
“_Laili ko Majnūn ke ankhon se dekhnā._”
72. “One must behold Laīlī with the eyes of Majnūn.”
“_Dah darwesh dar kalīme bi-khuspand_
_Do pādshāh dar iklīme na ganjand._”
73. “Ten derveshes may sleep under the same blanket, but two kings cannot
exist in one kingdom.”
“_Hūr bhī saugan koden se burī._”
74. “A contemporary wife, although a hūri, is worse than a she-devil.”
“_Saut chun kī bhī burī._”
75. “The very voice of a rival wife is intolerable.”
“_Sautīyā dāh mashhūr hai._”
76. “The malice of a rival wife is notorious.”
“_Saut mūrat kī bhī burī._”
77. “A contemporary wife is intolerable even in effigy.”
“_Saut bhalī sautela burā._”
78. “A contemporary wife may be good, but her child is bad.”
“_Āsūdah kase ki buz na dārad._”
79. “The man is happy who has no she-goat.”
“_Būnd kā gharon dhal gayā._”
80. “The house may be filled with the falling of drops.”
“_Ham māl ba-dast āyad o ham mār na ranjad._”
81. “To get possession of the wealth without disturbing the snake that
guards it.”
“_Saidrā chūn ājal āyad sū-e-sayyād rawad._”
82. “When death approaches the game it goes towards the sportsman.”
“_Apnī guriyā sanwār-denā._”
83. “To dress one’s own doll.”
“_Ghar kar ghar kar sattar balā sir dhar._”
84. “He who builds a house and takes a wife, heaps seventy afflictions on
his head.”
“_Jahān dekhe to ā barat._
_Wahān gāwe sārī rāt._”
85. “Where there is a marriage they may sing all night.”
“_Jis dūlhah tis banī barāt._”
86. “The nuptial procession is proportioned to the rank of the
bridegroom.”
“_Hamahrā yak mār gazīdah ast._”
87. “One snake has bit them all.”
“_Rānī dīwānī hoyī oron ko patthar apnon ko laddū mār kī._”
88. “The princess is grown foolish, she pelts her own relations with
sweetmeats, others with stones.”
“_Tātorah ba hawā pāshīdah and._”
89. “They have scattered datūra (thorn-apple) in the air.”
_i.e._ The people are all gone mad.
“_Man motion byāh_
_Man chāwalon byāh._”
90. “A marriage may be celebrated with a mŭn of rice, as well as with a
mŭn of pearls.”
“_Nakāre bāj damāne bāj gaye._”
100. “The sound of the nakaras and dumana has ceased.”
“_Misi kājil kisko_
_Miyān chale bhasko._”
101. “For whom should I stain my teeth and blacken my eyelashes? the
master is turned to ashes.”
“_Zabān-i-khūsh mārrā az sorākh bar mī-ārad._”
102. “A pleasant voice brings a snake out of a hole.”
“_Kharbūzāh chhurī par gire, yā chhurī kharbūze par to kharbūze kā
zarūr._”
103. “Whether the melon falls on the knife, or the knife on the melon,
the melon is the sufferer.”
_i.e._ The weakest go to the wall.
“_Dhūl kī rassī batnā._”
104. “To twist a rope of sand.”
“_Az bīwah kīr gadā’ī._”
105. “To beg a husband from a widow.”
“_Āthon gānth kumīt._”
106. “Bay in all his eight joints.”
“_Māmū jī juhār._”
107. “God save you, uncle!”
“_Ek nahīn sattar balā taltī hai._”
108. “Not one, but seventy misfortunes it keeps off.”
“_Kāne kī ek rag siwā hotī hai._”
109. “One-eyed men have a vein extra.”
“_Thorā khānā aur Banāras rahnā._”
110. “A little to eat and to live at Benares.”
The wish of a pious Hindu.
“_Zabar-dast kā thengā sir par._”
111. “The cudgel of the powerful must be obeyed.”
Club law—the weakest always suffer.
“_Jiskī lāthī us kī bhains._”
112. “He who has the stick, his is the buffalo.”
To express that the most powerful is generally the most successful in all
disputes. Club law.
“_Jis ne na dekhā ho bāgh wuh dekhe bilāī._
_Jis ne na dekhā ho thag wuh dekhe kasāī._”
113. “He who has never seen a tiger let him look at a cat; and he who has
never seen a Thug, let him look at a butcher.”
“_Zauk-i-chaman ’z khātir-i-bulbul na mī-rawad._”
114. “The desire of the garden never leaves the heart of the nightingale.”
“_Ghar gūr to bāhir mamāke._”
115. “A gooroo at home, but a beggar abroad.”
“_Gharīb ko kaurī ashrafī hai._”
116. “A kourī is a gold mohur to a pauper.”
“_Hazār niamat aur ek tand-rastī._”
117. “Health alone is equal to a thousand blessings.”
“_Chirāgh tale andherā._”
118. “It is dark under the lamp.”
“_Larke ko jab bheriyā le-gayā tab tattī bāndhī._”
119. “Fasten the door when the wolf has run away with the child.”
“_Khwāb āsāīsh-i-jān ast._”
120. “Sleep is the repose of the soul.”
“_Agar firdause bar rū-e-zamīn ast_
_Hamen ast, hamen ast, hamen ast._”
121. “If there be a Paradise upon earth, it is this, it is this.”
“_Dar-i-khānah-e-khudā dāim bāz ast._”
122. “The gate of the house of God is always open.”
“_Jitnā chhota itnā khota._”
123. “Vicious as he is little.”
“_Tārīkī-i-shab surmah-e-chashm-i-mūsh-i-kūr ast._”
124. “The darkness of the night is collyrium to the eyes of the mole.”
“_Sabz bar sang na-rawad chi gunah-e-bārānrā?_”
125. “If grass does not grow upon stones, what fault is it in the rain?”
“_Ek jorū sāre kumbe ko bas hai._”
126. “One wife is enough for a whole family.”
“_Murdah ān ast ki nām ash ba nikūī na burand._”
127. “He only is dead whose name is not mentioned with respect.”
“_Roz-i-tangī siyāh ast._”
128. “The days of distress are black.”
_i.e._ White and red amongst the Persians denote good.
“_Shutur-ghamze karte hain._”
129. “They cast camels’ glances.”
“_Chhīnkte khāē, chhīnkte nahāe chhīnkte par ghar na jāe._”
130. “After sneezing you may eat or bathe, but not go into any one’s
house.”
“_Astarrā guftand, pidar ast kīst? Guft asp khāl-i-man ast yā mādar-am
mādiyān ast._”
131. “The mule was asked ‘Who is your father?’ he answered, ‘The horse is
my maternal uncle, and the mare is my mother.”
“_Wahm kī dārū hī nahīn._”
132. “There is no physic for false ideas.”
“_Āb dar jaughan kobīdan._”
133. “To pound water in a mortar.”
Labour in vain.
“_Ām machhli bahtā ho hī rahtā hī._”
134. “Mangoes and fish meet of necessity.”
“_Murdan ba-izzat bih ki zindagānī ba-mazallat._”
135. “It is better to die with honour than live with infamy.”
“_Bhāgalpūr ke bhagliye aur Kahalgaon ke thag,_
_Patne ke diwāliye tīnon nām-zad._”
136. “The hypocrites of Bhagulpūr, the thugs of Kuhulgaon, and the
bankrupts of Patna are famous.”
“_Zāt bhānt puchhe na koi, jatio pahan kar Bahman hoe._”
137. “No one enquires his caste or tribe, he has put on the string and is
therefore a Brahman.”
“_Rānd sānd sīrhī sanyāsī_
_In chāron se bache Kāshī._”
138. “At Benares you should be upon your guard against the women, the
sacred bulls, the stairs, and the devotees.”
“_Bel ke māre babūl tale_
_Babūl ke māre bel tale._”
139. “He who was hurt by the bel (its large fruit falling on his head)
fled for refuge to the babūl (the prickles of which wounded his feet),
and he who was hurt by the babūl, fled to the bel.”
“_Mānte to deo nahīn to bhīt kā leo._”
140. “If you believe, it is a god—if not, plaister detached from a wall.”
“_Daryā men rahnā aur magar machh se bair karnā._”
141. “To dwell in the river and be at enmity with the crocodile.”
“_Khudā shakar-khore ko shakar detā hai._”
142. “God gives sugar to him who eats sugar.”
_i.e._ He provides for his creatures according to their wants.
“_Na burad kazz-i-narmrā tegh-i-tez._”
143. “A sharp sword will not cut raw silk.”
“_Nakl-i-âish bih az âīsh._”
144. “The narration of pleasure is better than the pleasure itself.”
“_Ukhle men sir diyā to dhamkon se kyā dar._”
145. “I have put my head into the mortar; it is useless to dread the
sound of the pestle.”
“_Āp kī topī par salāmat rahī._”
146. “The blessing of heaven be upon your head.”
“_Kalam īn jā rasīd o sar bi-shikast._”
147. “The pen arrived thus far and broke its point.”
_i.e._ It is finished.
_RAM! RAM!_
END OF VOL. I.
LONDON: GILBERT & RIVINGTON, PRINTERS, ST. JOHN’S SQUARE.
*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 74042 ***