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.’”