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.
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 1000l. a year, for which we are to pay 50,000 rupees, or about 5000l. 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 1000l. 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 “” 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.
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 250l., 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.