This man’s language was a strong specimen of Eastern hyperbole: one day he said to me, “You are my mother, and my father, and my God!” With great disgust, I reproved him severely for using such terms, when he explained, “you are my protector and my support, therefore you are to me as my God.” The offence was never repeated. The sketch of “[the sircar]” is an excellent representation of one in Calcutta: they dress themselves with the utmost care and most scrupulous neatness in white muslin, which is worn exactly as represented; and the turban often consists of twenty-one yards of fine Indian muslin, by fourteen inches in breadth, most carefully folded and arranged in small plaits; his reed pen is behind his ear, and the roll of paper in his hand is in readiness for the orders of the sāhib. The shoes are of common leather; sometimes they wear them most elaborately embroidered in gold and silver thread and coloured beads. All men in India wear mustachoes; they look on the bare faces of the English with amazement and contempt. The sircar is an Hindoo, as shown by the opening of the vest on the right side, and the white dot, the mark of his caste, between his eyes.
Dustoorie is an absolute tax. The durwān will turn from the gate the boxwallas, people who bring articles for sale in boxes, unless he gets dustoorie for admittance. If the sāhib buy any article, his sirdar-bearer will demand dustoorie. If the mem sāhiba purchase finery, the ayha must have her dustoorie—which, of course, is added by the boxwalla to the price the gentleman is compelled to pay.
Dustoorie is from two to four pice in the rupee; one anna, or one sixteenth of the rupee is, I imagine, generally taken. But all these contending interests are abolished, if the sircar purchase the article: he takes the lion’s share. The servants hold him in great respect, as he is generally the person who answers for their characters, and places them in service.
It appeared curious to be surrounded by servants who, with the exception of the tailor, could not speak one word of English; and I was forced to learn to speak Hindostanee.
To a griffin, as a new comer is called for the first year, India is a most interesting country; every thing appears on so vast a scale, and the novelty is so great.
In December, the climate was so delightful, it rendered the country preferable to any place under the sun; could it always have continued the same, I should have advised all people to flee unto the East.
My husband gave me a beautiful Arab, Azor by name, but as the Sā’īs always persisted in calling him Aurora, or a Roarer, we were obliged to change his name to Rajah. I felt very happy cantering my beautiful high-caste Arab on the race-course at 6 A.M., or, in the evening, on the well-watered drive in front of the Government House. Large birds, called adjutants, stalk about the Maidān in numbers; and on the heads of the lions that crown the entrance arches to the Government House, you are sure to see this bird (the hargilla or gigantic crane) in the most picturesque attitudes, looking as if a part of the building itself.
The arrival of the 16th Lancers, and the approaching departure of the Governor-general, rendered Calcutta extremely gay. Dinner parties and fancy balls were numerous; at the latter, the costumes were excellent and superb.
Dec. 16th.—The Marquis of Hastings gave a ball at the Government-house, to the gentlemen of the Civil and Military Services, and the inhabitants of Calcutta; the variety of costume displayed by Nawābs, Rajahs, Mahrattas, Greeks, Turks, Armenians, Mussulmāns, and Hindoos, and the gay attire of the military, rendered it a very interesting spectacle. Going to the ball was a service of danger, on account of the thickness of one of those remarkable fogs so common an annoyance during the cold season at the Presidency. It was impossible to see the road, although the carriage had lights, and two mashalchees, with torches in their hands, preceded the horses; but the glare of the mashals, and the shouts of the men, prevented our meeting with any accident in the dense cloud by which we were surrounded.