THE BĀGHMARS.
The following extract must not be omitted, since it elucidates the sketch of “[The Spring-bow],” [vol. ii. p. 73].
“I must tell you of a tiger that Lieutenant M⸺ and I went out to kill, and only succeeded in wounding. Some days ago, a cow was killed on this our hill of Goalpara, and tigers’ footprints were in beautiful freshness and preservation on the footpath around that remote conical hill that has been before mentioned. Captain Davidson’s assistant got two elephants for beating the jungle, and with a number of sepoys with muskets, I went out again, and did what was most prudent, by remaining on some rocks to receive the tiger when he should clear the jungle, and be driven towards me. The jungle was beat, but no tiger appeared, and the sepoys, getting tired of waiting, went into the jungle to beat instead of the elephants; as this was really dangerous I advised them against it, but uselessly; they seemed quite unconcerned, and to think it an affair of luck. I told the little havaldar, who is a leader on these occasions, that the tiger would kill him; he said, ‘Yes, he would if I were to let him;’ and this was not the least the bravado it would have been in the mouth of an European, but the man’s plain meaning. It is his opinion of the tiger that he is a beast possessed of great hikmat, cunning, but little heart or liver; and if you oppose him resolutely, like the devil he will flee from you. The beaters went cutting down the jungle and shouting; and, to put you out of suspense, no tiger was found, though the edges of his footprints were still fresh and crumbling.
“The enterprize of bringing in the tiger was resigned to some bhagmar people, professional tiger-killers, a party of whom happened to be in Goalpara, for the purpose of receiving payment for heads they had collected.
“Have you ever seen the bow they set for tigers[20]? It is laid on one side the animal’s track, and is of stronger and rather larger proportions than a bahangī bamboo; the joint force of two or three men draws the string back when the arrow is to be set; the poisoned head of the arrow, which is carried separate, is fitted on, and a piece of very thin twine laid from the bow across the animal’s path; the least touch on this string discharges the arrow in the same line with deadly precision. This bow was laid the night after our battue, and the next morning, about 9 A.M., I got the news that the tiger was lying dead upon the hill-side, and a number of prisoners were about to carry it to Captain Davidson’s; from him it was brought to me. It was a fine female, killed with its dinner of cow, and without any wound but that which killed it;—good proof that it was not the tiger we saw, who was twice wounded, as was shown by heavy clots of blood fallen on leaves over which he retreated. The arrow had buried itself only to the depth of its head, just behind the left shoulder: the mere wound could not have caused death, but the poison did; and the tiger was found about sixty yards from the spot where it came in contact with the string. The poison is the same in appearance as that on the arrow you got at Rajmahal; the tiger-killers told me they got it from the inhabitants of Bhotan, but whether these last make or retail it I do not know: its efficacy is tremendous.
“I have observed, and the same remark must have occurred to you, that these Sebundies, and natives generally who live in the constant vicinity of wild beasts, show a fearlessness of them that puts to shame the courage of an European on the same point. To beat through thick jungle, containing a tiger that had just struck down one of their party, some with only sticks in their hands, is what no European will do excepting on compulsion.
“I put the question to my havaldar, a man capable of answering it from personal courage and experience in such matters, whether the buffalo charges blindly forward in his first direction, so as to allow of a person’s escaping by stepping aside? ‘Oh no,’ he said, ‘the buffalo will turn with you.’
“The two that charged me were making a rush to escape, and were going along a narrow footpath; by jumping aside, I disappeared into the jungle growing below me on the face of the hill.
“It is morning, and I am drinking tea; and an instant ago the shock of an earthquake shook the table at which I am sitting, making my teacup and saucer rattle together like castanets. I was in the act of putting my pen on the paper when our hill began shaking, and then you would have had letters contorted by earthquake,—rather an out-of-the-way fact in familiar correspondence. I hope we are not to have three shocks complete, and according to the degrees of comparison; though such is said to be the custom of our Mother Earth. Far be it from me, who hold her in mythological reverence, to wish that she should forego any pet habits on my account; the only condition I pray for is the standing of the house I am in.
“The tiger-killers (bhagmar) are a strange set of people; the trade, like all trades in this country, descends from father to son, and is, as far as I can compute, a very indifferent livelihood. Say that a set of men get twenty heads during the year (this is nearly twice the common average), the reward for this number is one hundred rupees; which, divided by twelve and seven, gives each individual of the party one rupee three ānās a month. Seven were in the set to which my informant belonged, including, probably, three women. Two of the tiger-killers lately arrived have good marks from the gentlemen whose heads they traffic in; according to them all there is only one portion of their labours attended with danger, and that is, when seeking the tiger after the bow has been sprung. If the arrow lodges fairly in the side, the animal is found dead; should he be less fully hit, he is found, as they call it, in a state of drunkenness. They then approach him with hand-bows to finish him. This is the dangerous portion of their work. From the marks on one of these men, I should think the tiger must have been in a state of great weakness when he seized him. The different places in which he is scored show him to have been fairly in the tiger’s grip, and yet the amount of injury was small. The other has suffered more severely; and three men, they say, were killed outright during this year.
“This is the trade that men will take up for the chance of half an ānā a day! I do not think the Sadr ’Adālat people would enter the bhagmar department if their salaries were to be doubled. This shows that the work of the service could be done for four ānās a day, being three and a half ānās for the respectability. ‘Two bobs for the vartue, and a sice for the larning!’
“For the first time, I have visited the burying-ground. Your friend’s place of rest is more remarkable than solemn. A small circular enclosure of upright slips of bamboo, precisely similar to the defence of a young tree, would seem to indicate to the traveller, the existence in these savage regions of a race believing in a vegetable resurrection.”
CHAPTER XLVIII.
THE FAMINE AT KANAUJ.
“HEALTH ALONE IS EQUAL TO A THOUSAND BLESSINGS[21].”
Partiality of the Natives for English Guns—Solitary Confinement—The Nawāb Hakīm Menhdī—Bad Omens—A Slight Mistake—Bhūsā—The Padshah Begam and Moona-jah—The Bāiza Bā’ī visits a Steamer—Arrival of Lord Auckland—Visit of the Governor-General and the Hon. the Misses Eden to her Highness the ex-Queen of Gwalior—A March up the Country—The Camp at Fathīpūr—The Line of March—Death of the Nawāb Hakīm Menhdī—The Heir-apparent of Oude gives a Breakfast to the Governor-General—H. R. H. Prince Henry of Orange and the Misses Eden visit Lucnow—Resignation of Sir Charles Metcalfe—Chobīpūr—Thieves—Urowl—The Famine—The Pilgrim buys a Cocky-olli Bird—Merunkee Sarā’e—Ancient Hindū Ruin at Kanauj—Famine in the Bazār—Interment of Mahadēo and Pārvatī—The Legend of Kanauj.
1837, Aug.—A gentleman who had been paying us a visit quitted us for Agra just before his baggage boat arrived, in which were two immense German dogs, one striped like a tiger,—most warlike animals; they eyed me fiercely, and pulled impatiently on their chains when brought into the verandah; they will be good guards at night, but their arrival at Agra will be a little too late;—like locking the door when the steed has been stolen. Mr. H⸺ went out to dinner, and did not return home that night: some thieves took out a pane of glass, opened the door, carried off his two gun-cases and a writing-desk. A short distance from the house they broke open the cases, which they threw away, and made off with the guns, a gold watch, three seals, and a guard-chain. No traces have been discovered of the thieves, and our friend must resign himself to the loss, with the comfort of remembering that I told him several times he would lose his guns, unless he locked them up in some heavy, unwieldy chest, that could not readily be carried away.
Solitary confinement in the Fort of Allahabad, a punishment inflicted on rebellious sipahīs, is dreaded by them more than any other. The cells for prisoners in the Fort of Chunar are really solitary; you can neither see out of the window nor hear the sound of a human voice; both of which they contrive to do at Allahabad; therefore Chunar is held in all due horror.
Sept.—The fever, which, like the plague, carried off its thousands at Palee, has disappeared; the cordons are removed, the alarm is at an end, the letters are no longer fumigated, and the fear of the plague has vanished from before us.
On the 22nd of July, this year, the river had only risen eight feet above the usual mark; last year, at the same period, late as the rains were in setting in, the Jumna had risen twenty-four feet above the usual level; showing the great deficiency of rain this season.
24th.—The Nawāb Hakīm Menhdī has been reappointed minister in Oude; how happy the old man must be! He has been living at Fathīgar, pining for a restoration to the honours at Lucnow. The Nawāb quitted for Oude; on the first day of his march, the horse that carried his nakaras (state kettle-drums) fell down and died, and one of his cannon was upset;—both most unlucky omens. The Camp and the Minister were in dismay! To us it is laughable, to the natives a matter of distress. The right to beat kettle-drums, and to have them carried before you, is only allowed to great personages. Therefore the omen was fearful; it will be reported at Lucnow, will reach the ears of the King, and perhaps produce a bad effect on his mind;—the natives are so superstitious.
The Maharaj of Gwalior, the Bāiza Bā’ī’s adopted son, who drove her out of the kingdom, announced a few days ago that a son and heir was born unto him. The Resident communicated the happy news to the Government; illuminations took place, guns were fired, every honour paid to the young heir of the throne of Gwalior. The Bā’ī sent her grand-daughter on an elephant, in an amārī (a canopied seat), attended by her followers on horseback, to do pooja in the Ganges, and to give large presents to the Brahmāns. As the Gaja Rājā passed along the road, handfuls of rupees were scattered to the crowd below from the seat on the elephant. Six days after the announcement of the birth of a son, the King sent for the Resident, and, looking very sheepish, was obliged to confess the son was a daughter! The Resident was much annoyed that his beard had been laughed at; and, in all probability, the King had been deceived by the women in the zenāna: perhaps a son had really been born, and having died, a girl had been substituted;—the only child procurable, perhaps, at the moment, or approved of by the mother. A zenāna is the very birth-place of intrigue.
30th.—I am busy with preparations for a march; perhaps, in my rambles, I shall visit Lucnow, see the new King, and my old friend the Nawāb Hakīm Menhdī in all his glory. I should like very much to visit the zenāna, for, although the King be about seventy, there is no reason why he may not have a large zenāna, wives of all sorts and kinds,—“the black, the blue, the brown, the fair,”—for purposes of state and show.
Oct. 3rd.—At this moment a large fire is blazing away, and throwing up volumes of smoke at no great distance from our house. In this country they chop up straw very finely, as food for bullocks; an Hindū having collected a large quantity of bhūsā (this chopped straw), has of late been selling it at a very high price; in consequence, some one has set fire to the heap, and has destroyed some hundred mŭns. My khansaman, looking at it, said very quietly, “He has of late sold his bhūsā at an unfairly high price, therefore they have secretly set it on fire; of course they would, it is the custom.” The natives have curious ideas with respect to justice.
12th.—Called on the Bāiza Bā’ī;—really, the most agreeable visits I pay are to the Mahratta Camp.
17th.—The Padshah Begam and Moona-jah, the young Prince of Oude, whom she attempted to put on the throne, have arrived at Allahabad, state prisoners; they remained a day or two, their tents surrounded by double guards night and day. The Begam wished to remain here, but she was forced to march at last, and has proceeded to Chunar, where she is to remain a prisoner of state.
The preparations for a march up the country to visit my friends are nearly completed; my new tents have just arrived from Cawnpore, they are being pitched and examined, that I may have no trouble en route.
The Camp going to meet Lord Auckland at Benares passed through Allahabad yesterday; two hundred and fifty elephants, seven hundred camels, &c.,—a beautiful sight; they encamped very near our house, on the banks of the Jumna.
Nov. 23rd.—The Bāiza Bā’ī came down to go on board the steamer, which she was anxious to see. The vessel was drawn up to the ghāt, and enclosed with kanats (the canvas walls of tents). A large party of English ladies attended the Bā’ī, and several English gentlemen went on board with Appa Sāhib, after the return of her Highness, who appeared greatly pleased.
Dec. 1st.—The Governor-General Lord Auckland, the Hon. the Misses Eden, and Captain Osborne, arrived at Allahabad with all their immense encampment. The gentlemen of the Civil Service and the military paid their respects. Instead of receiving morning visits, the Misses Eden received visitors in the evening, transforming a formal morning call into a pleasant party,—a relief to the visitors and the visited.
7th.—I made my salām to Miss Eden at her tents; she told me she was going to visit her Highness the Bāiza Bā’ī with the Governor-General, asked me to accompany her, and to act as interpreter, to which I consented with pleasure.
8th.—The Gaja Rājā Sāhib went on an elephant in state, to bring the Misses Eden to call on the Bāiza Bā’ī. They arrived with Lord Auckland in all due form: his Lordship and Appa Sāhib sat in the outer room, and conversed with her Highness through the parda. I introduced the Misses Eden to the Bāiza Bā’ī and her grand-daughter, with whom they appeared pleased and interested. Twenty-two trays, containing pairs of shawls, pieces of cloth of gold, fine Dacca muslin, and jewels, were presented to the Governor-General; and fifteen trays, filled in a similar manner, to each of the Misses Eden. They bowed to the presents when they were laid before them, after which the trays were carried off, and placed in the treasury for the benefit of the Government.
15th.—I quitted Allahabad on my road to the Hills, under the escort of our friend Mr. F⸺, near whose tents my own were to be pitched: the country was swarming with robbers; they follow the camp of the Governor-General, wherever it may be.
16th.—Arrived at my tents at Fathīpūr; the scene in the camp was very picturesque; the troops were drawn out before the tents of the Governor-General, and all was state and form, for the reception of the Chiefs of Bandelkhand; the guns were firing salutes; it was an animated and beautiful scene.
18th.—I mounted my black horse, and rode at daybreak with some friends. From the moment we left our tents, we were passing, during the whole march, by such numbers of elephants, so many strings of camels, so many horses and carts, and so many carriages of all sorts, attendant on the troops, and the artillery of the Governor-General and his suite, that the whole line of march, from the beginning to the end, was one mass of living beings. My tents were pitched near the guns of the artillery, outside the camp at Mulwah: a Rājā came to call on Lord Auckland, a salute was fired; my horses, being so near, became alarmed; the grey broke from his ropes, fell on the pegs to which he was picketed, and lamed himself; another broke loose; a camel lamed himself, and we had some difficulty in quieting the frightened animals.
19th.—I was unwell from over-fatigue, most uncomfortable. In the evening I roused myself to dine with Lord Auckland to meet Prince Henry of Orange. His Royal Highness entered the navy at eight years of age, and has been in the service ten years, in the “Bellona” frigate. Accompanied by his captain, he came up dāk to spend a few days with Lord Auckland. The Prince is a tall, slight young man, and, apparently, very diffident.
21st.—Arrived at Cawnpore, and paid a long promised visit to a relative. As the Misses Eden were at home in the evening, I accompanied Major P⸺ to pay my respects. We lost our way in the ravine from a dense fog: when we reached the tents the whole station was assembled there, quadrilles and waltzing going forward.
25th.—On Christmas-day the old Nawāb Hakīm Menhdī, the minister of Oude, of whom I have so often spoken, breathed his last at Lucnow. His death was announced to me in a very original note from his nephew and heir, the General Sāhib:—
“Dear Madam,—I have to inform you that my poor uncle Nawāb Moontuzim-ood-Dowlah Bahadur departed this life at the decree and will of Providence, at half-past three o’clock A.M., the day before yesterday, Monday, the 25th inst., after a short illness of six days only; consequently seeing him any more in this world is all buried in oblivion. The Begam Sāhiba tenders her kind remembrances to you. With best wishes, believe me to be, dear Madam, yours very faithfully, Ushruff-ood-Dowla Ahmed Ally Khan Bahadur.”
I was sorry to hear of the death of the Nawāb. How soon it has followed on the bad omens of his march!
26th.—Received an invitation to breakfast with the son of the King of Oude (who had arrived from Lucnow), to meet the Governor-General’s party: went there on an elephant: an immense party were assembled in a very fine tent. Shortly after, breakfast was announced: when it was over we returned to the former tent, when the presents were brought forth; they consisted of a fine elephant, with a howdah on his back, and the whole of the trappings of red cloth and velvet richly embroidered in gold. Two fine horses next appeared, their housings of velvet and gold; and the bridles were studded with rows of turquoise. A golden palanquin was next presented. On the ground, in front of the party, were twenty-three trays, the present to Lord Auckland; they were filled with Cashmere shawls in pairs, pieces of kimkhwāb, and necklaces of pearls, emeralds, and diamonds. Fifteen trays of shawls and cloth of gold, with fine pieces of Dacca muslin, were presented to each of the Misses Eden; two of the trays contained two combs set in superb diamonds, and two necklaces of diamonds and emeralds, such as are hardly ever seen even in India. All these fine things were presented and accepted; they were then carried off and placed in the Government treasury. The Government make presents of equal value in return.
26th.—The station gave a ball to the Governor-General and the Misses Eden; the next day Prince Henry of Orange, the Misses Eden, and Captain Osborne, went over to Lucnow for a few days, leaving Lord Auckland at Cawnpore; they returned on the 30th, when the Prince quitted the party, and went off with the Captain of “the Bellona” to visit Agra.
1838, Jan. 1st.—Sir Charles Metcalfe, who had arrived from Agra, resigned his power into Lord Auckland’s hands, and departed for England.
I am very comfortable, every thing being en règle, having a double set of tents, two horses for the buggy, two Arabs for riding, ten camels to carry the baggage, and two bullock-carts for the women. The men servants march with the camels: every thing is required in duplicate. One tent, with the people, starts in the evening, and is pitched at the end of the march, and breakfast is there ready for me early the next morning.
3rd.—A cold day with a high wind: my tents are pitched on a dusty plain, without a blade of grass, the wind and dust careering up and down. My little tent is quite a pearl in the desert, so white and fresh: small as it is, it is too large to take to the hills, and I have this day written for two hill tents and a ghoont (a hill pony) to be bought for me, that they may be ready on my arrival.
4th.—Quitted Chobīpūr, and arrived early at the end of the march; found the tent only half pitched, no breakfast ready; in fact, the servants, leaving every thing about in every direction, had gone to sleep. The thieves, who are innumerable all over the country, taking advantage of their idleness, had carried off my dital harp with the French blankets and the pillows from my charpāī. These things were under the sentry, but he was asleep on his post. The box was found in a field, near the tent, but the dital harp was gone. I had always made a point of pitching my tents near the great camp, for the sake of the protection it afforded. “It is dark under the lamp[22],” was exemplified;—a proverb used when crimes are committed near the seat of authority. Strict orders were of course issued to my people to be more on the alert in future. “When the wolf has run away with the child the door is made fast[23].” In the evening I dined with the Governor-General, and was much gratified with the sight of some of Miss Eden’s most spirited and masterly sketches.
5th.—Arrived at Urowl. Here the famine began to show itself very severely; I had heard it talked about, but had never given it much thought, had never brought the image of it before my mind’s eye. No forage was to be procured for the camels or bullocks, therefore they went without it; it was not to be had for money, but gram was procurable, of which they had a meal. The horses got gram, but no grass; the country was so completely burnt up, scarcely a blade or rather a root of grass could be cut up, and every thing was exceedingly expensive.
6th.—At six A.M., when I quitted my tent to mount my horse, it was bitterly cold; the poor starving wretches had collected on the spot which my horses had quitted, and were picking up the grains of gram that had fallen from their nose-bags; others were shivering over a half-burned log of wood my people had lighted during the night. On the road I saw many animals dead from over-exertion and famine; carts overturned; at one place a palanquin garī had been run away with, the wheels had knocked down and passed over two camel drivers; one of the men was lying on the road-side senseless and dying.
On reaching the Stanhope, which had been laid half way for me, the horse gave some annoyance while being put into harness; when once in, away he went, pulling at a fearful rate, through roads half way up the leg in sand, full of great holes, and so crowded with elephants, camels, artillery, cavalry, and infantry, and all the camp followers, it was scarcely possible to pass through such a dense crowd; and in many places it was impossible to see beyond your horse’s head from the excessive dust. Imagine a camp of 11,000 men all marching on the road, and such a road!
Away rushed the horse in the Stanhope, and had not the harness been strong, and the reins English, it would have been all over with us. I saw a beautiful Persian kitten on an Arab’s shoulder; he was marching with a long string of camels carrying grapes, apples, dates, and Tusar cloth for sale from Cabul. Perched on each camel were one or two Persian cats. The pretty tortoise-shell kitten, with its remarkably long hair and bushy tail, caught my eye;—its colours were so brilliant. The Arab ran up to the Stanhope holding forth the kitten; we checked the impetuous horse for an instant, and I seized the pretty little creature; the check rendered the horse still more violent, away he sprang, and off he set at full speed through the encampment which we had just reached. The Arab thinking I had purposely stolen his kitten, ran after the buggy at full speed, shouting as he passed Lord Auckland’s tents, “Dohā’ī, dohā’ī, sāhib! dohā’ī, Lord sāhib!” “Mercy, mercy, sir! mercy, Governor-General!” The faster the horse rushed on, the faster followed the shouting Arab, until on arriving at my own tents, the former stopped of his own accord, and the breathless Arab came up. He asked ten rupees for his kitten, but at length, with well-feigned reluctance, accepted five, declaring it was worth twenty. “Who was ever before the happy possessor of a tortoise-shell Persian cat?” The man departed. Alas! for the wickedness of the world! Alas! for the Pilgrim! She has bought a cocky-olli-bird!
The cocky-olli-bird, although unknown to naturalists by that name, was formerly sold at Harrow by an old man to the boys, who were charmed with the brilliancy of its plumage,—purple, green, crimson, yellow, all the colours of the rainbow united in this beautiful bird; nor could the wily old fellow import them fast enough to supply the demand, until it was discovered they were painted sparrows!
ANCIENT HINDŪ RUIN AT KANAUJ.
Sketched on the Spot by فاني پارکس
The bright burnt sienna colour of the kitten is not tortoise-shell, she has been dyed with hinnā! her original colour was white, with black spots; however, she looks so pretty, she must be fresh dyed when her hair falls off; the hinnā is permanent for many months. The poor kitten has a violent cold, perhaps the effect of the operation of dyeing her: no doubt, after having applied the pounded menhdī, they wrapped her up in fresh castor-oil leaves, and bound her up in a handkerchief, after the fashion in which a native dyes his beard. Women often take cold from putting hinnā on their feet.