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.
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.