THE NAWAB HAKĪM MENHDĪ, AND CITY OF KANNOUJ.
Zenāna of the Nawab of Fathīghar—The Nawab Hakīm Menhdī—His
Attire and Residence—Shawl Manufactory—The Muharram—Visit to
the Zenāna of the Nawab—Lord Brougham—Molineux and Tom Crib—The
Burkā—Departure from Fathīghar—Return to Allahabad—Voyage on
the Ganges—The Legend of Kurrah—Secunder-al-Sānī—The Satī—A
Squall—Terror of the Sarang—The Kalā Nadī—Ruins of Kannouj—The
Legend—Ancient Coins—Rose-water—Burning the Dead—Arrival at
Fathīghar.
1835, _April 15th._—I received an invitation to pay my respects to
the Begam Moktar Mahal, the mother of the Nawab of Fathīgar; she is
connected with Mulka Begam’s family, but very unlike her, having none
of her beauty, and not being a lady-like person. Thence we went to the
grandmother of the Nawab, Surfuraz Mahal, in the same zenāna. They were
in mourning for a death in the family, and wept, according to dastūr
(custom), all the time I was there: they were dressed in plain white
attire, with no ornaments; that is their (mátim) mourning. The young
Nawab, who is about twelve years old, is a fine boy; ugly, but manly and
well-behaved.
The Nawab Mootuzim Adowlah Menhdī Ali Khan Bahādur, commonly called Nawab
Hakīm Menhdī, lives at Fathīgar; he was unwell, and unable to call, but
he sent down his stud to be shown to me, my fondness for horses having
reached his ears.
_22nd._—I visited a manufactory for Indian shawls, lately established by
the Hakīm to support some people, who, having come from Cashmir, were in
distress; and as they were originally shawl manufacturers, in charity he
gave them employment. This good deed is not without its reward; three
or four hundred workmen are thus supported; the wool is brought from
Cashmir, and the sale of the shawls gives a handsome profit. I did not
admire them; they are manufactured to suit the taste of the English, and
are too heavy; but they are handsome, and the patterns strictly Indian.
Colonel Gardner’s Begam said to me one day, at Khāsgunge, “Look at these
shawls, how beautiful they are! If you wish to judge of an Indian shawl,
shut your eyes and feel it; the touch is the test of a good one. Such
shawls as these are not made at the present day in Cashmir; the English
have spoiled the market. The shawls made now are very handsome, but so
thick and heavy, they are only fit for carpets, not for ladies’ attire.”
_26th._—The Nawāb Hakīm Menhdī called, bringing with him his son, a man
about forty years of age, called “The General.” He invited me to pay him
and the Begam a visit, and wished to show me his residence.
_29th._—We drove to the Nawāb’s house, which is a good one; he received
us at the door, and took _my_ arm, instead of giving me his. He is a
fine-looking old man, older than Colonel Gardner, whom in style he
somewhat resembles; his manners are distinguished and excellent. He
wore an embroidered cap, with a silver muslin twisted like a cord, and
put around it, as a turban; it was very graceful, and his dress was of
white muslin. The rooms of his house are most curious; more like a shop
in the China bazār, in Calcutta, than any thing else; full of lumber,
mixed with articles of value. Tables were spread all down the centre of
the room, covered with most heterogeneous articles: round the room were
glass cases, full of clocks, watches, sundials, compasses, guns, pistols,
swords; every thing you can imagine might be found in these cases.
The Hakīm was making all due preparation for celebrating the Muharram
in the most splendid style; he was a very religious man, and kept the
fast with wonderful strictness and fortitude. A very lofty room was
fitted up as a Taziya Khāna, or house of mourning; from the ceiling hung
chandeliers of glass of every colour, as thickly as it was possible
to place them, all the length of the spacious apartment; and in this
room several taziyas, very highly decorated, were placed in readiness
for the ceremony. One of them was a representation of the Mausoleum of
the Prophet at Medina; another the tomb of Hussein at Karbala; a third,
that of Kasīm; and there was also a most splendid Burāk, a fac-simile of
the winged horse, on which the Prophet made an excursion one night from
Jerusalem to Heaven, and thence returned to Mecca. The angel Gabriel
acted as celestial sā’īs on the occasion, and brought the animal from
the regions above. He must have been a fiery creature to control that
winged horse; and the effect must have been _more_ than picturesque, as
the Prophet scudded along on a steed that had the eyes and face of a man,
his ears long, his forehead broad, and shining like the moon; eyes of
jet, shaped like those of a deer, and brilliant as the stars; the neck
and breast of a swan, the loins of a lion, the tail and the wings of a
peacock, the stature of a mule, and the speed of lightning!—hence its
name Burāk.
In front of the taziyas and of the flying horse were a number of
standards; some intended to be fac-similes of the banner (’alam) of
Hussein: and others having the names of particular martyrs. The banners
of Alī were denominated, “The Palm of the Hand of Alī the Elect;” “The
Hand of the Lion of God;” “The Palm of the Displayer of Wonders;” and
“The Palm of the Disperser of Difficulties.” Then there was the “Standard
of Fatima,” the daughter of the Prophet, and wife of Alī; also that of
Abbās-i-’alam-dār, the standard-bearer; with those of Kasīm, Alī-akbar,
and others; the banner of the twelve Imāms; the double-bladed sword of
Alī; and the nal-sāhib. There was also the neza, a spear or lance dressed
up with a turban, the ends flying in the air, and a lime fixed at the
top of it; emblematic, it is said, of Hussein’s head, which was carried
in triumph through different cities, by the order of Yuzeed, the King of
Shawm.
The nal-sāhib is a horse-shoe affixed to the end of a long pole; it is
made of gold, silver, metals, wood, or paper, and is intended as an
emblem of Hussein’s horse.
The ’Alam-i-Kasīm, or Standard of Kasīm the Bridegroom, is distinguished
by its having a little chatr in gold or silver, fixed on the top of it.
All these things were collected in the long room in the house of the
Nawāb, ready for the nocturnal perambulations of the faithful.
After the loss of the battle of Kraabaallah, the family of Hussein were
carried away captive with his son Zein-ool-Abaīdīn, the only male of
the race of Alī who was spared, and they were sent to Medina. With them
were carried the heads of the martyrs; and that of Hussein was displayed
on the point of a lance, as the cavalcade passed through the cities. In
consequence of the remonstrances and eloquence of Zein-ool-Abaīdīn, the
orphan son of Hussein, the heads of the martyrs were given to him; and
forty days after the battle they were brought back to Kraabaallah, and
buried, each with its own body; the mourners then returned to Medina,
visited the tomb of the Prophet, and all Medina eventually became subject
to Zein-ool-Abaīdīn.
Alī, the son-in-law of Muhammad, was, according to the Shī’as, the direct
successor of the Prophet; they not acknowledging the other three caliphs;
but, according to the Sunnīs, he was the fourth Khalifa, or successor of
Muhammad.
The Muharram concludes on the fortieth day, in commemoration of the
interment of the martyrs at Kraabaallah, the name of a place in Irāk,
on the banks of the Euphrates, which is also—and, perhaps, more
correctly—called Karbalā. At this place the army of Yuzeed, the King, was
encamped; while the band of Hussein, including himself, amounting only
to seventy-two persons, were on the other side of an intervening jungle,
called Mareea.
The Nawāb is a very public-spirited man, and does much good; he took me
over a school he founded, and supports, for the education of native boys;
showed me a very fine chīta (hunting leopard), and some antelopes, which
were kept for fighting. For the public benefit, he has built a bridge, a
ghāt, and a sarā’e, a resting-place for travellers; all of which bear his
name.
The Begam, having been informed that I was with the Nawāb, sent to
request I would pay a visit to the zenāna, and a day was appointed in all
due form.
_May 3rd._—The time having arrived, the Nawāb came to the house at which
I was staying, to pay me the compliment of escorting me to visit the
Begam. The Muharram having commenced, all his family were therefore in
mourning, and could wear no jewels; he apologized that, in consequence,
the Begam could not be handsomely dressed to receive me. She is a pretty
looking woman, but has none of the style of James Gardner’s Begam; she
is evidently in great awe of the Hakīm, who rules, I fancy, with a rod
of iron. The rooms in the zenāna are long and narrow, and supported by
pillars on the side facing the enclosed garden, where three fountains
played very refreshingly, in which golden fish were swimming. The Begam
appeared fond of the fish, and had some beautiful pigeons, which came to
be fed near the fountains; natives place a great value upon particular
breeds of pigeons, especially those obtained from Lucnow, some of which
bring a very high price. It is customary with rich natives to keep a
number of pigeons; the man in charge of them makes them manœuvre in the
air by word of command, or rather by the motions of a long wand which
he carries in his hand, and with which he directs the flight of his
pigeons; making them wheel and circle in the air, and ascend or descend
at pleasure. The sets of pigeons consist of fifty, or of hundreds; and to
fly your own in mock battle against the pigeons of another person is an
amusement prized by the natives.
Several large glass cases were filled in the same curious manner as those
before mentioned; and the upper panes of the windows were covered with
English prints, some coloured and some plain. The Hakīm asked me if I
did not admire them? There was Lord Brougham; also a number of prints
of half-naked boxers sparring; Molineux and Tom Cribb, &c., in most
scientific attitudes; divers characters of hunting celebrity; members of
Parliament in profusion; and bright red and blue pictures of females,
as Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter:—a most uncouth collection to be
displayed around the walls of a zenāna! I was surprised to see pictures
in the house of a man considered to be so religious as the Nawāb;
because the Prophet said, “Every painter is in hell-fire, and God will
appoint a person at the day of resurrection, for every picture he shall
have drawn, to punish him in hell. Then, if you must make pictures, make
them of trees, and things without souls.” “And whoever draws a picture
will be punished, by ordering him to blow a spirit into it; and this he
can never do; and so he will be punished as long as God wills.”
“The angels do not enter the house in which is a dog, nor into that in
which are pictures.”
I spent an hour in the zenāna, talking to the old Nawāb; the Begam
scarcely ventured to speak. He took me over her flower garden, and made
me promise I would never pass Fathīghar without paying him a visit. I
told him that when the rains arrived, I should come up in the pinnace,
having promised to revisit my relatives, when I should have the pleasure
of seeing him and the Begam again. He pressed me to stay and see the
ceremonies of the Muharram; I regretted extremely I was obliged to return
home, being very anxious to see the mourning festival celebrated in all
state.
I happened to wear a ferronnière on my forehead; it amused the Begam very
much, because it somewhat resembled the tīka worn by the women of the
East.
His first Begam, to whom he was much attached, died: he sent her body to
Mekka: it went down at sea. This was reckoned a great misfortune, and an
omen of ill luck. Four years afterwards he married the present Begam, who
was slave girl to the former.
Between the pauses in conversation the Nawāb would frequently have
recourse to his rosary, repeating, I suppose, the ninety-nine names of
God, and meditating on the attributes of each. In the Qanoon-e-islam
it is mentioned, “To read with the use of a tusbeeh (or rosary) is
meritorious; but it is an innovation, since it was not enjoined by the
prophet (the blessing and peace of God be with him!) or his companions,
but established by certain mushaeks (or divines). They use the chaplet
in repeating the kulma (confession of faith) or durood (blessing),
one, two, or more hundred times.” On the termination of my visit to the
zenāna, the Nawāb re-escorted me to the house of the friend with whom I
was staying.
For the first time, I saw to-day a person in a burkā walking in the
street; it was impossible to tell whether the figure was male or female;
the long swaggering strut made me suppose the former. A pointed crown was
on the top of the head, from which ample folds of white linen fell to the
feet, entirely concealing the person. Before the eyes were two holes,
into which white net was inserted; therefore the person within could see
distinctly, while even the colour of the eyes was not discernible from
without. The burka’-posh, or person in the burka’, entered the house of
the Nawāb. The dress afterwards was sent me to look at, and a copy of it
was taken for me by my darzī (tailor). It is often worn by respectable
women, who cannot afford to go out in a palanquin, or in a dolī.
The Hakīm was fond of writing notes in English, some of which were
curious. When the office of Commissioner was done away with, he thought
the gentleman who held the appointment would be forced to quit Fathīghar.
The old Hakīm wrote a singular note, in which was this sentence: “As for
the man who formed the idea of doing away with your appointment, my dear
friend, may God blast him under the earth.” However, as the gentleman
remained at Fathīghar, and the Government bestowed an appointment equally
good upon him, the Hakīm was satisfied. On my return to Allahabad, he
wrote to me, and desired me “not to bury his friendship and affection in
oblivion.”
_4th._—Paid a farewell visit to her Highness the ex-Queen of Gwalior,
in the Mahratta Camp, and quitted Fathīghar dāk for Allahabad. A brain
fever would have been the consequence, had I not taken shelter during the
day, as the hot winds were blowing, and the weather intensely oppressive;
therefore I only travelled by night, and took refuge during the day.
_5th._—I stopped during the day at the house of a gentleman at Menhdī
Ghāt, which was built by the Nawāb, as well as the sarā’e at Naramhow,
which also bears his name. From this place I sent to Kannouj for a
quantity of chūrīs, _i.e._, rings made of sealing-wax, very prettily
ornamented with gold foil, beads, and colours: the old woman, who brought
a large basketful for sale, put a _very expensive_ set on my arms;
they cost four ānās, or three pence! The price of a very pretty set is
two ānās. My host appeared surprised; he must have thought me a Pakka
Hindostanī. Kannouj is famed for the manufacture of chūrīs. I wore the
bracelets for two days, and then broke them off, because the sealing-wax
produced a most annoying irritation of the skin.
_6th._—I spent the heat of the day with some kind friends at Cawnpore,
and the next dāk brought me to Fathīpoor. The day after, I spent the
sultry hours in the dāk bungalow, at Shāhzadpoor; and the following
morning was very glad to find myself at home, after my long wanderings.
The heat at times in the pālkee was perfectly sickening. I had a small
thermometer with me, which, at 10 A.M., often stood at 93°; and the sides
of the palanquin were hot as the sides of an oven. The fatigue also of
travelling so many nights was very great; but it did me no harm.
I found Allahabad greatly altered; formerly it was a quiet station,
it had now become the seat of the Agra Government, and Mr. Blunt, the
Lieut.-Governor, was residing there. I had often heard Colonel Gardner
speak in high praise of this gentleman, who was a friend of his. My time
was now employed in making and receiving visits, and going to parties.
_13th._—At the house of Mr. F⸺ I met the Austrian traveller, Baron
H⸺; he requested to be allowed to call on me the next day to see my
collection of curiosities. He pronounced them very good, and promised to
send me some idols to add to them. I gave him a set of Hindoo toe-rings,
the sacred thread of the Brahmans, and a rosary, every bead of which
was carved with the name of the god Rām. Men were deceivers ever; the
promised idols were never added to my collection. The Lieut.-Governor’s
parties, which were very agreeable, rendered Allahabad a very pleasant
station.
_Aug. 2nd._—I went to the melā (fair) held within the grounds at
Papamhow. To this place we had sent the pinnace, the Seagull; and on
the 10th of the month my husband accompanied me two days’ sail on my
voyage, to revisit my relations at Fathīghar, after which, he returned
to Allahabad, leaving me and the great spaniel Nero to proceed together.
The daily occurrences of this voyage may be omitted, only recording
any adventure that occurred during the course of it. The stream is so
excessively powerful, that at times, even with a fine strong breeze and
thirteen men on the towing-line, we are forced to quit the main stream,
and proceed up some smaller branch, which occasions delay.
_Aug. 14th._—Arrived at Kurrah, a celebrated place in former days, I
wished to go on shore to see the tomb of Shaikh Karrick, and to have a
canter on the black pony, who was to meet me there; but was obliged to
give up the idea, because we were compelled to go up the other side of
the river in consequence of the violence and rapidity of the stream.
In A.D. 1295, Alla, the son of Feroze, the second King of Delhi, was
Governor of Kurrah and Subadar of Oude. Alla made an expedition into
the Deccan, and returned laden with spoil. Six hundred mŭn of pure
gold; seven mŭn of pearls; two mŭn of diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and
sapphires; one thousand mŭn of silver, and four thousand pieces of silk,
&c.
The King of Delhi, wishing to share in his nephew’s plunder, came down to
Kurrah. Alla met him when his boat touched the bank of the river; and,
after the fondest greetings, made a sign to two men, who came forward and
murdered the king on the spot.
They relate, that when Alla visited a celebrated sage, Shaikh Karrick,
who is buried at Kurrah, and whose tomb is held sacred to this day, he
rose from his pillow, and repeated an extempore verse to the following
purport:—“He cometh, but his head shall fall in the boat, and his body
in the Ganges,” which, they say, was explained an hour afterwards by
the death of the King Feroze, whose head was thrown into the boat on
that occasion. One of the assassins died of a horrible leprosy, which
dissolved the flesh piecemeal from his bones; the other went mad, and
incessantly cried out that Feroze was cutting off his head.
This detestable Alla seized the throne of Delhi, and reigned under the
title of Alla the First. He proposed, like Alexander the Great, to
undertake the conquest of the world. In consequence of this project, he
assumed the title of Sekunder al Sānī (Alexander the Second), which was
struck upon the currency of the empire. The silver coins represented in
the sketch (Fig. 6.) which I procured at Fathīpoor, were found in a field
five miles from Kurrah; they were inscribed A.D. 1313, Sekunder al Sānī.
Never was there such a wretch as this Alla the First. He died A.D. 1316.
I consider the coins as great a curiosity as the gentleman considers one
of _Thurtell’s ears_, which he has preserved in spirits!
_16th._—Anchored at Maigong in rather a picturesque spot, close to a
satī mound. By the side of the mound I saw the trunk of a female figure
beautifully carved in stone. The head, arms, and part of the legs had
been broken off. They said it was the figure of a satī. At the back of
the mound was a very ancient banyan-tree; and the green hills and trees
around were in all the freshness and luxuriance of the rainy season.
The next morning, to my surprise, on going into the large cabin to
breakfast, there was the figure of the headless satī covered with
flowers, and at the spot where feet _were not_, offerings of gram, boiled
rice, &c., had been placed by some of the Hindoo dāndees. “How came you
possessed of the satī?” said I. “The mem sāhiba admired her, she is
here.” “Chorī-ke-mal nā’īch hazm hota,” “Stolen food never digests,”
_i.e._, “Ill deeds never prosper, the poor people will grieve for the
figure; tell the sarang to lower sail and return her to them.” “What
words are these?” replied the sarang, “we are miles from the spot; the
satī has raised the wind.” The headless lady remained on board.
As we passed the residence of Rājā Budannath Singh, he came out with his
family on three elephants to pay his respects, thinking my husband was on
board. The ladies were peeping from the house-top. The pinnace passed
in full sail, followed by ten immense country boats full of magazine
stores, and the cook boat. Being unable at night to cross those rivers,
we anchored on the Oude side. I did not much admire being in the domains
of the King of Lucnow instead of those of the Company; they are a very
turbulent set, those men of Oude, and often pillage boats. The vicinity
of the Rājā’s house was some protection. Rām Din had the matchlocks of
the sipahī guard fired off by way of bravado, and to show we were armed;
the lathīs (bamboos) were laid in readiness, in case of attack: the watch
was set, and, after these precautions, the mem sāhiba and her dog went to
rest very composedly.
_22nd._—Not a breath of air! a sun intensely hot; the river is like a
silver lake; but over its calm the vessel does _not_ glide, for we are
fast on a sandbank! Down come the fiery beams; several of the servants
are ill of fever. Heaven help them; I doctor them all, and have killed
no one as yet! My husband will fret himself as he sits in the coolness
of the house and thinks of me on the river. The vessel was in much
difficulty this morning; the conductor of some magazine boats sent forty
men and assisted her out of it. Lucky it was that chance meeting with the
conductor in this Wilderness of Waters! One is sure to find some one to
give aid in a difficulty, no doubt through the power of the satī, whom
they still continue to adorn with fresh flowers.
_25th._—After a voyage of fifteen days and a half I arrived at Cawnpore;
coming up the reach of the Ganges, in front of Cantonments, a powerful
wind was in our favour. The Seagull gallantly led the way in front of
the twelve magazine boats: a very pretty sight for the Cawnporeans,
especially as a squall overtook us, struck us all into picturesque
attitudes, and sunk one of the magazine boats, containing 16,000 rupees
worth of new matchlocks. When the squall struck the little fleet, they
were thrown one against another, the sails shivered, and the centre boat
sank like a stone. Being an eye-witness of this scene, I was afterwards
glad to be able to bear witness, at the request of the conductor, to his
good conduct, and the care he took of the boats, when called upon by the
magistrate of the place.
_28th._—Anchored off Bittoor on the opposite side. I regretted being
unable to see the place and Bajee Row, the ex-Peshwā, who resides there
on an allowance of eight lākh per annum. In 1818, he submitted to the
Company, abdicated his throne, and retired to Bittoor for life. It would
have given me pleasure to have seen these Mahrattas; but the channel of
the stream forced me to go up the other side of the river.
The Government wish the Bāiza Bā’ī to live at Benares on six lākh a
year; but the spirited old lady will not become a pensioner, and refuses
to quit Fathīghar. She has no inclination, although an Hindoo, to be
satisfied with “A little to eat and to live at Bunarus[11],” especially
as at this place she is no great distance from her beloved Gwalior.
_Sept. 2nd._—A day of adventures. Until noon, we battled against wind and
stream: then came a fair wind, which blew in severe squalls and storms.
Such a powerful stream against us; but it was fine sailing, and I enjoyed
it very much. At times the squalls were enough to try one’s courage: We
passed a vessel that had just broken her mast: the stream carried us back
with violence, and we ran directly against her; she crushed in one of the
Venetian windows of the cabin, and with that damage we escaped. Two men
raising the sail of another vessel were knocked overboard by the squall,
and were carried away with frightful velocity, the poor creatures calling
for help: the stream swept them past us, and threw them on a sandbank—a
happy escape!
Anchored at Menhdī ghāt; the moon was high and brilliant, the wind
roaring around us, the stream, also, roaring in concert, like a distant
waterfall; the night cold and clear, the stars bright and fine; but the
appearance of the sky foretold more wind and squalls for the morrow.
I had no idea, until I had tried it, how much danger there was on the
Gunga, during the height of the rains; in this vessel I think myself
safe, but certainly I should not admire a small one. All the vessels
to-day were at anchor; not a sail was to be seen but the white sails of
the Seagull, and the dark ones of the cook boat, the latter creeping
along the shore, her mānjhī following very unwillingly.
My sarang says the quantity of sail I oblige him to carry during high
winds, has turned “his stomach upside down with alarm.”
_3rd._—For some hours the next morning the gale continued so violently,
we could not quit the bank; a gentleman came on board, and told me,
by going up a stream, called the Kalī Nadī, I should escape the very
powerful rush of the Ganges; that I could go up the Nadī twenty miles,
and by a canal, cut in former days, re-enter the Ganges above.
I asked him to show me the ruins of Kannouj; we put off; it was blowing
very hard: at last we got out safely into the middle of the stream.
About a mile higher up, we quitted the roaring and rushing waters of
the Ganges, and entered the placid stream of the Kalī Nadī. Situated on
a hill, most beautifully wooded, with the winding river at its feet,
stands the ancient city of Kannouj; the stream flowing through fine green
meadows put me in mind of the Thames near Richmond. In the Ganges we
could scarcely stem the current, even though the wind, which was fair,
blew a gale; in the Nadī we furled every sail, and were carried on at a
good rate, merely by the force of the wind on the hull of the vessel, and
the non-opposition of the gentle stream. My friend told me he had once
thrown a net across the Kalī Nadī, near the entrance, and had caught one
hundred and thirty-two great rhoee fish. On the hill above stands the
tomb of Colonel ⸺; who, when Lord Lake’s army were encamped here on their
road to Delhi, attempted on horseback to swim the Nadī, and was drowned.
In the history of Kannouj, it is said, “Rustum Dista, King of the Persian
province of Seistan, conquered India; he, for his great exploits, is
styled the Hercules of the East; unwilling to retain so distant an empire
as a dependent on Persia, he placed a new family on the throne. The name
of the Prince raised to the empire by Rustum was Suraja, who was a man
of great abilities, and restored the power of the empire. This dynasty
commenced about 1072 years before the Christian æra, and it lasted two
hundred and eighty-six years. It is affirmed by the Brahmins, that it was
in the time of this dynasty that the worship of emblematical figures of
the Divine attributes was first established in India.”
The Persians, in their invasions, they say, introduced the worship of
the sun, fire, and the heavenly bodies; but the mental adoration of the
Divinity, as the one Supreme Being, was still followed by many.
The great city of Kannouj was built by one of the Surajas, on the banks
of the Ganges; the circumference of its walls is said to have been nearly
one hundred miles. It contained thirty thousand shops, in which betel-nut
was sold; and sixty thousand bands of musicians and singers, who paid a
tax to Government. In A.D. 1016, the King of Ghizni took Kannouj, “a city
which, in strength and structure, might justly boast to have no equal,
and which raised its head to the skies.” It is said, “The Hindostanee
language is more purely spoken in Kannouj than in any other part of
India.”
We anchored; and after tiffin, Mr. M⸺ accompanied me to see the tombs
of two Muhammadan saints, on the top of the hill. Thence we visited a
most singular Hindoo building, of great antiquity, which still exists in
a state of very tolerable preservation; the style of the building, one
stone placed on the top of another, appeared to me more remarkable than
any architecture I had seen in India. A further account of this ancient
building, with a sketch annexed, will be given in a subsequent chapter.
The fort, which is in ruins, is on a commanding spot; the view from it
all around is beautiful. The people sometimes find ancient coins amongst
the ruins, and jewels of high value; a short time ago, some pieces of
gold, in form and size like thin bricks, were discovered by an old woman;
they were very valuable. The Brahmans brought to us for sale, square
rupees, old rupees, and copper coins; but none of them were Hindoo; those
of copper, or of silver, not being more than three hundred years old,
were hardly worth having. I commissioned them to bring me some gold
coins, which are usually genuine and good. A regular trade is carried on
at this place in the fabrication of silver and copper coins, and those
of a mixed metal. The rose-water of Kannouj is considered very fine; it
was brought, with other perfumed waters, for sale; also native preserves
and pickles, which were inferior. To this day the singers of Kannouj
are famous. I am glad I have seen the ruins of this old city, which are
well worth visiting; I did not go into the modern town; the scenery is
remarkably pretty. I must revisit this place on my black horse; there are
many parts too distant from each other for a walk; I returned very much
fatigued to the pinnace. A great many Hindoo idols, carved in stone, were
scattered about in all directions, broken by the zeal of the Muhammadans,
when they became possessed of Kannouj. I shall carry some off should I
return this way.
_5th._—A hot day, without a breath of air, was followed by as hot a
night, during which I could not close my eyes; and a cough tore my chest
to pieces.
When we lugāoed, I saw two fires by the side of the stream; from one of
which they took up a half-burned body, and flung it into the river. The
other fire was burning brightly, and a Hindoo, with a long pole, was
stirring it up, and pushing the corpse of his father, or whoever the
relation was, properly into the flames, that it might all consume. The
nearest relation always performs this ceremony. The evening had gathered
in darkly; some fifteen black figures were between us and the sunset,
standing around the fire; the palm-trees, and some huts, all reflected in
the quiet stream of the Kalī Nadī, had a good effect; especially when the
man with the long pole stirred up his bāp (father), and the flames glowed
the brighter.
I was glad to get away, and anchor further on, the smell on such
occasions being objectionable; it is a horrible custom, this burning the
corpse; the poor must always do it by halves, it takes so much wood to
consume the body to ashes.
The sirdar-bearer of an officer died; the gentleman desired a small
present might be given to his widow, in aid of the funeral. At the end
of the month, when the officer’s accounts were brought to him for
settlement, he found the following item, “For roasting sirdar-bearer,
five rupees!”
Some Hindoos do not burn their dead; I saw a body brought down to the
river-side this evening, by some respectable-looking people; they pushed
the corpse into the stream, and splashed handfuls of water after it,
uttering some prayer.
_6th._—After fighting with the stream all day, and tiring the crew to
death on sandbanks, and pulling against a terribly powerful current, we
were forced back to within two miles of our last night’s anchorage; we
have happily found a safe place to remain in during the night; these high
banks, which are continually falling in, are very dangerous. Fortunately
in the evening, assisted by a breeze, we arrived at the canal; and having
passed through it quitted the Kalī Nadī, and anchored in the deep old bed
of the Ganges.
_7th._—With great difficulty we succeeded in bringing the pinnace to
within three miles of Fathīghar, where I found a palanquin in waiting
for me; the river being very shallow, I quitted the vessel, and, on my
arrival at my friend’s house, sent down a number of men to assist in
bringing her up in safety.