The whole scene was animated and striking, and particularly so to me, being the first thing of the kind I had seen in India.
Groups of richly-dressed Mahomedans, exhibiting a grand display of shawls, turbans and jewels; retainers and connections of the nawaub, or dignified inhabitants of the city; armed men, attired in the picturesque costume of the native soldiery of India, with shields, swords, and matchlocks; Abyssinian slaves, and Bengalese in their flowing muslin robes, constituted the native portion of the assembly. Amongst these were a numerous body of English officers, in their scarlet uniforms, and ladies elegantly dressed.
On the terrace of the noble house, overlooking the Baghiriti, stood the nawaub and his little court, their jewels and muslins contrasting with the plain blue coat and simple garb of the Governor-General’s agent and other civilians about him.
Tables were laid out in the palace, profusely covered with wines and refreshments, in the European style; old hands and griffins, fair sex and civilians, seemed all determined to enjoy themselves, and to give his nabobship a benefit; to sweat his claret, as a slight off-set to the sweating his ancestors had given to ours in the Black Hole of Calcutta.
In the courts or pavilions below, Pulwahns, or athletæ, exhibited feats of strength; jugglers displayed their tricks, and two or three mimics enacted the sale of a horse to an Indian Johnny Raw, a sort of Brentford tailor, as far as I was able to judge from their action, expression, and the applause they elicited from the bystanders, with great humour and effect.
As night drew on, the whole place was illuminated, exhibiting a blaze of light; the party, native and European, were congregated on the terrace to look at the sports. A grand pyrotechnic display followed; the rockets whizzed in the air, and the blue lights shed their spectral glare around.
I was delighted: this is worth seeing, methought.
Anon, the river was covered with countless lamps in motion on its surface, and, soon after, a fairy palace, or structure forming one mass of gorgeous light, came gliding down the current, passing beneath the terrace.
The whole effect was beautiful and striking. I have hardly ever before or since seen anything of the kind which pleased me more.
The costumes and buildings of the East, and possibly of all semi-barbarous countries, harmonize well with pageantry and spectacle; all is in keeping, and nought appears to wound the sense of fitness and congruity. Not so, it strikes me, in our own country, where the pomp and glitter of the Middle Ages form strange patchwork with spinning-jennies and the homely toggery of our utilitarian and go-ahead times. Fancy going to a tournament by a railroad, or seeing a mailed champion riding cheek by jowl with a Kennington “’bus,” or one of Barclay and Perkins’s drays. If we must have splendour, let it be in unison with the age.