The sickness in our farm-yard is great: forty-seven gram-fed sheep and lambs have died of small-pox; much sickness is in the stable, but no horse has been lost in consequence.
25th.—Remarkably fine grapes are selling at one rupee the ser; i.e., one shilling per pound. The heat is intolerable; and the rains do not fall heavily, as they ought to do at this season. The people in the city say the drought is so unaccountable, so great, that some rich merchant, having large stores of grain of which to dispose, must have used magic to keep off the rains, that a famine may ensue, and make his fortune!
CHAPTER XLIII.
TŪFĀNS IN THE EAST.
A Storm on the Jumna—An Amazonian Mahratta Lady—Putlī Coins—The Mint at Gwalior—East India Company’s Rupees—Departure of Sir Charles Metcalfe—Murder of two Ladies in a Zenāna—The Steamer and Tug—Rajmahal Tiger—Cotton Seed—Nagapanchmee—Wreck of the Seagull—A fierce Tūfān—Arrival of Sir Henry Fane—Visit to the Bāiza Bā’ī—River Voyage to Calcutta—Chunar—The God Burtreenath—Ghāt of Appa Sāhib—Ghāt of the Bāiza Bā’ī—Her Treasury seized by the Government—The Chiraghdanīs—The Minarets—Native Merchants—Kimkhwāb Manufactory—The Junéoo—House of the Bāiza Bā’ī—The Iron Chests of Gold Mohurs—Rooms full of Rupees, of Copper Coins, and of Cowries—Vishwŭ-Kŭrma, the Architect of the Gods.
1836, June 28th.—A hurricane has blown ever since gun-fire; clouds of dust are borne along upon the rushing wind; not a drop of rain; nothing is to be seen but the whirling clouds of the tūfān. The old peepul-tree moans, and the wind roars in it as if the storm would tear it up by the roots. The pinnace at anchor on the Jumna below the bank rolls and rocks; the river rises in waves, like a little sea. Some of her iron bolts have been forced out by the pressure of the cables, and the sarang says, she can scarcely hold to her moorings. I am watching her unsteady masts, expecting the next gust will tear her from the bank, and send her off into the rushing and impetuous current. It is well it is not night, or she would be wrecked to a certainty. I have not much faith in her weathering such a tūfān at all, exposed as she is to the power of the stream and the force of the tempest. High and deep clouds of dust come rushing along the ground, which, soaring into the highest heaven, spread darkness with a dull sulphureous tinge, as the red brown clouds of the tūfān whirl swiftly on. It would almost be an inducement to go to India, were it only to see a hurricane in all its glory: the might and majesty of wind and dust: just now the fine sand from the banks of the river is passing in such volumes on the air, that the whole landscape has a white hue, and objects are indistinct; it drives through every crevice, and, although the windows are all shut, fills my eyes and covers the paper. It is a fearful gale. I have been out to see if the pinnace is likely to be driven from her moorings. The waves in the river are rolling high with crests of foam; a miniature sea. So powerful were the gusts, with difficulty I was able to stand against them. Like an Irish hurricane it blew up and down. At last the falling of heavy rain caused the abatement of the wind. The extreme heat passed away, the trees, the earth, all nature, animate and inanimate, exulted in the refreshing rain. Only those who have panted and longed for the fall of rain can appreciate the delight with which we hailed the setting in of the rains after the tūfān.
3rd.—This morning the Bā’ī sent down two of her ladies, one of whom is a celebrated equestrian, quite an Amazon: nevertheless, in stature small and slight, with a pleasant and feminine countenance. She was dressed in a long piece of white muslin, about eighteen yards in length; it was wound round the body and passed over the head, covering the bosom entirely: a part of it was brought up tight between the limbs, so that it had the appearance of full trousers falling to the heels. An embroidered red Benares shawl was bound round her waist; in it was placed a sword and a pistol, and a massive silver bangle was on one of her ancles. Her attendants were present with two saddle horses, decked in crimson and gold, and ornaments of silver, after the Mahratta fashion. She mounted a large bony grey, astride of course, and taking an extremely long spear in her hand, galloped the horse about in circles, performing the spear exercise in the most beautiful and graceful style at full gallop; her horse rearing and bounding, and showing off the excellence of her riding. Dropping her spear, she took her matchlock, performing a sort of mimic fight, turning on her saddle as she retreated at full gallop, and firing over her horse’s tail. She rode beautifully and most gracefully. When the exhibition was over, we retired to my dressing-room: she told me she had just arrived from Juggernāth, and was now en route to Lahore to Runjeet Singh. She was anxious I should try the lance exercise on her steed, which I would have done, had I possessed the four walls of a zenāna, within which to have made the attempt.
What does Sir Charles Metcalfe intend to do with the poor Bā’ī? what will be her fate? this wet weather she must be wretched in tents. The Lieutenant-Governor leaves Allahabad for Agra, in the course of a day or two.
In the evening I paid my respects to her Highness. I happened to have on a long rosary and cross of black beads; she was pleased with it, and asked me to procure some new rosaries for her, that they might adorn the idols, whom they dress up, like the images of the saints in France, with all sorts of finery.
She showed me a necklace of gold coins, which appeared to be Venetian: the gold of these coins is reckoned the purest of all, and they sell at a high price. The natives assert they come from the eastward, and declare that to the East is a miraculous well, into which, if copper coins be thrown, they come out after a time the very purest of gold. In the sketch entitled “[Superstitions of the Natives],” No. 8 represents a coin of this enchanted well: they are called Putlī, and the following extract makes me consider them Venetian:—