But I can write no more—my aide-de-camp, a young Bhopaul Chieftain, is in attendance, to invite me to ride with the Resident. This little native chief is a fine intelligent boy about fourteen years of age; he rides well, on a small horse covered with silver ornaments; and his own dress, with two and sometimes three swords at his waist, is so curious, I should like to have his picture taken. The young chief, with his followers, often attends me on horseback to do my bidding.
The king has a charming park near Lucnow, called Dil-Kushā, or “Heart’s Delight,” filled with game; deer, nil-gā’ī, antelopes, bears, tigers, peacocks, and game of all sorts; the drive through it is most agreeable, the road being kept constantly watered: the house is good, and very convenient. His Majesty visits the place often for shooting.
Just beyond the park is a second park called Beebeepore, formerly the residence of Mr. Cherry, who was murdered at Benares.
24th.—I took a steam bath in true oriental style, which was very delightful; when the pleasing fatigue was over, I joined a party, and proceeded to Daulut Khāna, a palace built by Ussuf-ood-Dowla, but now uninhabited, except by some of the ladies and attendants of the old king’s zenāna.
We went there to see a picture painted in oil by Zoffani, an Italian artist, of a match of cocks, between the Nawāb Ussuf-ood-Dowla and the Resident, Colonel Mordaunt; the whole of the figures are portraits; the picture excellent, but fast falling into decay.
The next place visited was the country-house of one of the richest merchants in India, a place called Govinda Bāgh. It is one of the handsomest houses I have entered, and beautifully furnished, with fine mirrors and lustres; its painted ceilings are remarkably well done, and have a very rich effect; the pillars also in imitation of porphyry look extremely well. The owner, Govind Lall, lives in a mean dirty house, in one of the meanest gulīs (lanes) in the city, that his wealth may not attract robbers or cause jealousy.
25th.—My husband accompanied the Resident and a party to breakfast with the King, and I called on my charming friend, Mrs. F⸺, in cantonments.
In the evening I accompanied the Resident, in his barouche, drawn by four fine horses, round the grounds of Dil-Kushā. The carriage was attended by an escort on horseback; when it passed the guards, arms were presented, and trumpets blown: and sometimes men with baskets of birds running by the side of the carriage, let them fly whenever they caught his eye, in the hope of some reward being thrown to them for having liberated their captives in compliment to the great man.
To release captive birds propitiates the favour of heaven. A great man will release prisoners from jail when he is anxious for the recovery of a relative from illness, or to procure an heir!