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.