THE MAHRATTAS AT ALLAHABAD.
Zenāna of the Nawāb of Farrukhabad—The Nawāb Hakīm
Menhdī—Hidden Treasures—The Jak—Dak to Cawnpore—The
Nawāb of Banda—Returned home in the Seagull—Mr. Blunt,
the Lieutenant-Governor, quitted the Station—Arrival of
Mr. Ross—The Bāiza Bā’ī sent to Allahabad—Arrival of her
Highness—Parties in the Mahratta Camp—Opium-Eating—Marriage
Ceremonies of the Hindoos—Procession in Parda—The Bride—Red
Gold—The Ex-Queen’s Tents at the Tribeni—The Bathing—Presents
to the Brahmans—Arrival of Sir Charles Metcalfe—Sohobut
Melā—Illness of the Gaja Rājā Sāhib—Murder of Mr. Frazer—The
Bāiza Bā’ī a State Prisoner—The power of Magic.
1835, _Oct._—One day I called on the Begam, the mother of the young Nawāb
of Farrukhabad, and found her with all her relations sitting in the
garden; they were plainly dressed, and looked very ugly. For a woman not
to be pretty when she is shut up in a zenāna appears almost a sin, so
much are we ruled in our ideas by what we read in childhood of the hoorīs
of the East.
One morning, the Nawāb Hakīm Menhdī called; his dress was most curious;
half European, half Asiatic. The day being cold, he wore brown corduroy
breeches, with black leather boots, and thick leather gloves; over this
attire was a dress of fine white flowered Dacca muslin; and again, over
that, a dress of pale pink satin, embroidered in gold! His turban was
of gold and red Benares tissue. He carried his sword in his hand, and
an attendant followed, bearing his hooqŭ; he was in high spirits, very
agreeable, and I was quite sorry when he rose to depart. In the evening,
he sent down a charming little elephant, only five years old, for me to
ride; which I amused myself with doing in the beautiful grounds around
the house, sitting on the back of the little beauty, and guiding him with
cords passed through his ears.
The next evening the Nawāb sent his largest elephant, on which was an
amārī,—that is, a howdah, with a canopy,—which, according to native
fashion, was richly gilt, the interior lined with velvet, and velvet
cushions; the elephant was a fast one, his paces very easy, and I took a
long ride in the surrounding country.
The Muhammadans have a fondness for archery, for which the following
extract accounts:—“There was an Arabian bow in the hand of the Prophet,
and he saw a man with a Persian one, and said, ‘Throw away the Persian
bow, and adopt the Arabian, and appropriate arrows and spears; because
God verily will assist with them in religion, and will make you
conquerors of cities.’” “Verily, God brings three persons into Paradise,
on account of one arrow; the first, the maker of it, being for war; the
second, the shooter of it in the road of God; the third, the giver of the
arrow into the hands of the archer.”
“His Highness entered Mecca on the day of taking it with his sword
ornamented with gold and silver; and he had two coats of mail on the day
of the battle of Oh’ud, and wore one over the other; the Prophet had two
standards, one large, the other small; the large one was black, and the
small one white; verily, the Prophet came into Mecca with a white ensign.”
We were speaking to-day of the practice of burying money, so much
resorted to by the natives, when a gentleman remarked,—“It is a curious
circumstance, that when a native buries treasure, in order to secure it,
the only persons who know the secret are a low, debased caste, called
Chamārs; these men are faithful to their employer; they will bury lākhs
of rupees, and never betray the spot; they dig the ground, and guard it;
as long as their employer lives they keep the secret; the moment of his
death, they dig up, and are off with the money; they consider they have
a right to it in that case, and they would not give it up to his son.”
This is a curious fact, and accounts for their strict secrecy during the
life of the owner.
Buried treasures, consisting of jewels, as well as the precious metals,
to the extent of lākhs and lākhs, are supposed to exist in the East; the
inhabitants in ancient, and even in modern times, being in the habit of
thus securing their property from plunder in wars and invasions; but
they have not sufficient faith in their Mother Earth to leave their
valuables in her care without the aid of necromancy (jādū); and, as
before mentioned, the Akbarābādee, or square gold mohur, as represented
by Fig. 7 in the plate entitled “Superstitions of the Natives,” is had
recourse to, and buried with the treasure. Those who are not fortunate
enough to possess a square gold mohur, substitute an Akbarābādee rupee,
Fig. 5; or a square eight ānā piece, Fig. 4. It is also stated that
an animal, sometimes a man, is killed, and buried with it as a guard;
this animal is called _jak_, and receives orders to allow no one else
to take up the treasure. It is not surprising the natives should behold
the researches of English antiquaries with a jealous eye; and it must
be some consolation to them that they believe a fatality awaits the
appropriation, by the discoverer, of a hidden treasure.
_15th._—Having despatched the pinnace to await my arrival at Cawnpore, I
started dāk for that place, which I reached the next day, after a most
disagreeable journey; I was also suffering from illness, but the care of
my kind friends soon restored me to more comfortable feelings.
_22nd._—I accompanied them to dine with the Nawāb Zulfecar Bahādur,
of Banda. The Nawāb is a Muhammadan, but he is of a Mahratta family,
formerly Hindoos; when he changed his religion, and became one of the
faithful, I know not. Three of his children came in to see the company;
the two girls are very interesting little creatures. The Nawāb sat at
table, partook of native dishes, and drank sherbet when his guests took
wine. The next day, the Nawāb dined with the gentleman at whose house I
was staying, and met a large party.
_24th._—I quitted Cawnpore in the Seagull, and once more found myself on
the waters of the Gunga: a comet was plainly visible through a glass;
its hazy aspect rendered it a malignant-looking star. The solitude of my
boat is very agreeable after so much exertion.
_25th._—Anchored off a ship-builder’s yard, and purchased six great
trees; sal, shorea robusta, and teak (tectona grandis); what they may
turn out I can scarcely tell; I bought them by torch-light, had them
pitched into the river, and secured to the boats; the teak trees to make
into tables and chairs; the sal for a thermantidote; we have one at home,
but having seen one very superior at Fathīghar, induced me to have the
iron-work made at that place; I have brought it down upon the boats, and
have now purchased the wood for it, _en route_, timber being reasonable
at Cawnpore.
_26th._—Here are we,—that is, the dog Nero and the Mem sāhiba,—floating
so calmly, and yet so rapidly, down the river; it is most agreeable;
the temples and ghāts we are now passing at Dalmhow are beautiful; how
picturesque are the banks of an Indian river! the flights of stone
steps which descend into the water; the temples around them of such
peculiar Hindoo architecture; the natives, both men and women, bathing
or filling their jars with the water of the holy Gunga; the fine trees,
and the brightness of the sunshine, add great beauty to the scene. One
great defect is the colour of the stream, which, during the rains, is
peculiarly muddy; you have no bright reflections on the Ganges, they fall
heavy and indistinct.
_28th._—Lugāoed the pinnace in the Jumna, beneath the great peepul in our
garden, on the banks of the river.
_31st._—Dined with Mr. Blunt, the Lieutenant-Governor; and the next day
a lancet was put into my arm, to relieve an intolerable pain in my head,
brought on by exposure to the sun on the river.
_Nov. 6th._—The Lieutenant-Governor gave a farewell ball to the Station,
on resigning the appointment to Mr. Ross. The news arrived that her
Highness the Bāiza Bā’ī, having been forced to quit Fathīghar, by order
of the Government, is on her march down to Benares; at which place they
wish her to reside. Una Bā’ī, one of her ladies, having preceded her to
Allahabad, called on me, and begged me to take her on board the Calcutta
steam-vessel, an object of great surprise to the natives.
_9th._—The gentlemen of the Civil Service, and the military at the
Station, gave a farewell ball to the Lieutenant-Governor; I was
ill, and unable to attend. Oh! the pain of rheumatic fever! The new
Lieutenant-Governor arrived; he gave a few dinners, and received them in
return; after which Allahabad subsided into its usual quietude, enlivened
now and then by a Bachelor’s Ball.
1836, _Jan. 16th._—The Bāiza Bā’ī arrived at Allahabad, and encamped
about seven miles from our house, on the banks of the Jumna, beyond the
city. A few days after, the Brija Bā’ī, one of her ladies, came to me, to
say her Highness wished to see me; accordingly I went to her encampment.
She was out of spirits, very unhappy and uncomfortable, but expressed
much pleasure at my arrival.
_Feb. 5th._—Her Highness requested the steam-vessel should be sent up
the river, opposite her tents; she went on board, and was much pleased,
asked a great many questions respecting the steam and machinery, and went
a short distance up the river. Capt. Ross accompanied her Highness to
Allahabad, and remained there in charge of her, whilst her fate was being
decided by the Government.
_9th._—The Bā’ī gave a dinner party at her tents to twenty of the
civilians and the military; in the evening there was a nāch, and
fireworks were displayed; the ex-Queen appeared much pleased.
There is a very extensive enclosure at Allahabad, called Sultan Khusrū’s
garden; tents had been sent there, and pitched under some magnificent
tamarind trees, where a large party were assembled at tiffin, when the
Bā’ī sent down a Mahratta dinner, to add to the entertainment. In the
evening, her two rhinoceroses arrived; they fought one another rather
fiercely; it was an amusement for the party. Captain Ross having quitted
Allahabad, Mr. Scott took charge of her Highness.
_March 1st._—The Brija Bā’ī called to request me to assist them in giving
a dinner party to the Station, for which the Bāiza Bā’ī wished to send
out invitations; I was happy to aid her. The guests arrived at about
seven in the evening; the gentlemen were received by Appa Sāhib, her
son-in-law; the ladies were ushered behind the parda, into the presence
of her Highness. I have never described the parda which protects the
Mahratta ladies from the gaze of the men: In the centre of a long room a
large curtain is dropped, not unlike the curtain at a theatre, the space
behind which is sacred to the women; and there the gaddī of the Bā’ī was
placed, close to the parda; a piece of silver, about six inches square,
in which a number of small holes are pierced, is let into the parda; and
this is covered on the inside with white muslin. When the Bā’ī wished
to see the gentlemen, her guests, she raised the bit of white muslin,
and could then see every thing in the next room through the holes in
the silver plate—herself unseen. The gentlemen were in the outer room,
the ladies in the inner. Appa Sāhib sat close to the parda; the Bā’ī
conversed with him, and, through him, with some of the gentlemen present,
whom she could see perfectly well.
Dancing girls sang and nāched before the gentlemen until dinner was
announced. Many ladies were behind the parda with the Bāiza Bā’ī, and she
asked me to interpret for those who could not speak Urdu. I was suffering
from severe rheumatic pain in my face; her Highness perceiving it, took
from a small gold box a lump of opium, and desired me to eat it, saying,
she took as much herself every day. I requested a smaller portion; she
broke off about one-third of the lump, which I put into my mouth, and
as it dissolved the pain vanished; I became very happy, interpreted for
the ladies, felt no fatigue, and talked incessantly. Returning home,
being obliged to go across the country for a mile in a palanquin, to
reach the carriage, the dust which rolled up most thickly half choked me;
nevertheless, I felt perfectly happy, nothing could discompose me; but
the next morning I was obliged to call in medical advice, on account of
the severe pain in my head, from the effect of the opium.
The table for dinner was laid in a most magnificent tent, lined with
crimson cloth, richly embossed, and lighted with numerous chandeliers.
The nāch girls danced in the next apartment, but within sight of the
guests; her Highness and her grand-daughter, from behind the parda,
looked on. About two hundred native dishes, in silver bowls, were
handed round by Brahmans; and it was considered etiquette to take a
small portion from each dish. On the conclusion of the repast, the
Governor-General’s agent rose, and drank her Highness’s health, _bowing
to the parda_; and Appa Sāhib returned thanks, in the name of the Bā’ī.
The dinner and the wines were excellent; the latter admirably cooled.
Fireworks were let off, and a salute was fired from the cannon when the
guests departed. Her nephew was there in his wedding dress—cloth of gold
most elaborately worked. The Bā’ī expressed herself greatly pleased with
the party, and invited me to attend the wedding of her nephew the next
day, and to join her when she went in state to bathe in the Jumna. I was
very glad to see her pleased, and in good spirits.
_March 4th._—This being the great day of the wedding, at the invitation
of the Bā’ī we took a large party to the camp to see the ceremonies
in the cool of the evening. Having made our salām to her Highness, we
proceeded with the Gaja Rājā Sāhib to the tents of the bride, which were
about half a mile from those of the bridegroom. The ceremony was going
on when we entered. The bridegroom, dressed in all his heavy finery,
stood amongst the priests, who held a white sheet between him and the
bride, who stood on the other side, while they chanted certain prayers.
When the prayers were concluded, and a quantity of some sort of small
grain had been thrown at the lady, the priest dropped the cloth, and
the bridegroom beheld his bride. She was dressed in Mahratta attire,
over which was a dopatta of crimson silk, worked in gold stars; this
covered her forehead and face entirely, and fell in folds to her feet.
Whether the person beneath this covering was man, woman, or child, it was
impossible to tell: bound round the forehead, outside this golden veil,
was a sihrā, a fillet of golden tissue, from which strings and bands of
gold and silver fell over her face. The bridegroom must have taken upon
trust, that the woman he wished to marry was the one concealed under
these curious wedding garments. It was late at night; we all returned to
the Bā’ī’s tent, and the ladies departed, all but Mrs. Colonel W⸺ and
myself; the Gaja Rājā having asked us to stay and see the finale of the
marriage. The young Princess retired to bathe, after which, having been
attired in yellow silk, with a deep gold border, and covered with jewels,
she rejoined us, and we set out to walk half a mile to the tents of the
bride; this being a part of the ceremony. The Gaja Rājā, her ladies, and
attendants, Mrs. W⸺, and myself, walked with her in parda; that is, the
canvas walls of tents having been fixed on long poles so as to form an
oblong inclosure, a great number of men on the outside took up the poles
and moved gently on; while we who were inside, walked in procession over
white cloths, spread all the way from the tent of the Bā’ī to that of the
bride. It was past 10 P.M. Fireworks were let off, and blue lights thrown
up from the outside, which lighting up the procession of beautifully
dressed Mahratta ladies, gave a most picturesque effect to the scene.
The graceful little Gaja Rājā, with her slight form and brilliant
attire, looked like what we picture to ourselves a fairy was in the
good old times, when such beings visited the earth. At the head of this
procession was a girl carrying a torch; next to her a nāch girl danced
and figured about; then a girl in the dress of a soldier, who carried a
musket and played all sorts of pranks. Another carried a pole, on which
were suspended onions, old shoes, and all sorts of queer extraordinary
things to make the people laugh. Arrived at the end of our march, the
Gaja Rājā seated herself, and water was poured over her beautiful little
feet. We then entered the tent of the bride, where many more ceremonies
were performed. During the walk in parda, I looked at Mrs. W⸺, who had
accompanied me, and could not help saying, “We flatter ourselves we are
well dressed, but in our hideous European ungraceful attire we are a blot
in the procession. I feel ashamed when the blue lights bring me out of
the shade; we destroy the beauty of the scene.”
I requested permission to raise the veil and view the countenance
of the bride. She is young, and, for a Mahratta, handsome. The Bā’ī
presented her with a necklace of pure heavy red gold; and told me she
was now so poor she was unable to give her pearls and diamonds. New
dresses were then presented to all her ladies. We witnessed so many forms
and ceremonies, I cannot describe one-fourth of them. That night the
bridegroom took his bride to his own tents, but the ceremonies of the
wedding continued for many days afterwards. I returned home very much
pleased at having witnessed a shādī among the Hindoos, having before seen
the same ceremony among the Muhammadans.
The ex-Queen had some tents pitched at that most sacred spot, the
Treveni, the junction of the three rivers; and to these tents she came
down continually to bathe; her ladies and a large concourse of people
were in attendance upon her, and there they performed the rites and
ceremonies. The superstitions and the religion of the Hindoos were to me
most interesting subjects, and had been so ever since my arrival in the
country. Her Highness was acquainted with this, and kindly asked me to
visit her in the tents at the junction whenever any remarkable ceremony
was to be performed. This delighted me, as it gave me an opportunity
of seeing the worship, and conversing on religious subjects with the
ladies, as well as with the Brahmans. The favourite attendant, the Brija
Bā’ī never failed to call, and invite me to join their party at the
time of the celebration of any particular rite. At one of the festivals
her Highness invited me to visit her tents at the Treveni. I found the
Mahratta ladies assembled there: the tents were pitched close to the
margin of the Ganges, and the canvas walls were run out to a considerable
distance into the river. Her Highness, in her usual attire, waded into
the stream, and shaded by the kanāts from the gaze of men, reached the
sacred junction, where she performed her devotions, the water reaching
to her waist. After which she waded back again to the tents, changed her
attire, performed pooja, and gave magnificent presents to the attendant
Brahmans. The Gaja Rājā and all the Mahratta ladies accompanied the
ex-Queen to the sacred junction, as they returned dripping from the
river, their draperies of silk and gold clung to their figures; and very
beautiful was the statue-like effect, as the attire half revealed and
half concealed the contour of the figure.
_15th._—The hot winds have set in very powerfully; to-day I was sent for
by the Bāiza Bā’ī, who is in tents; great sickness is prevalent in the
camp, and many are ill of cholera.
_22nd._—Sir Charles Metcalfe arrived to reside at Allahabad, on his
appointment to be Lieutenant-Governor of Agra. The hot winds are blowing
very strongly; therefore, with tattīs, the house is cool and pleasant;
while, out of doors, the heat is excessive. Her Highness, having been
unable to procure a house, still remains encamped; the heat under canvas
must be dreadful.
_May 1st._—She sent for me, and I found the Gaja Rājā ill of fever, and
suffering greatly from the intense heat.
_May 9th._—Was the Sohobut Melā, or Fair of Kites, in Alopee Bāgh; I
went to see it; hundreds of people, in their gayest dresses, were flying
kites in all directions, so happily and eagerly; and under the fine trees
in the mango tope, sweetmeats, toys, and children’s ornaments, were
displayed in booths erected for the purpose. It was a pretty sight, that
Alopee ke Melā.
The kites are of different shapes, principally square, and have no
tails; the strings are covered with mānjhā, a paste mixed with pounded
glass, and applied to the string, to enable it to cut that of another by
friction. One man flies his kite against another, and he is the loser
whose string it cut. The boys, and the men also, race after the defeated
kite, which becomes the prize of the person who first seizes it. It
requires some skill to gain the victory; the men are as fond of the sport
as the boys.
The string of a kite caught tightly round the tail of my horse Trelawny,
and threatened to carry away horse and rider tail foremost into mid-air!
The more the kite pulled and danced about, the more danced Trelawny, the
more frightened he became, and the tighter he tucked in his tail; the
gentleman who was on the horse caught the string, and bit it in two, and
a native disengaged it from the tail of the animal. A pleasant bite it
must have been, that string covered with pounded glass! Yah! yah! how
very absurd! I wish you had seen the tamāshā. In the evening we dined
with Sir Charles Metcalfe; he was residing at Papamhow. He told me he was
thinking of cutting down the avenue of nīm trees (melia azadirachta),
that led from the house to the river; I begged hard that it might be
spared, assuring him that the air around nīm trees was reckoned wholesome
by the natives, while that around the tamarind was considered very much
the contrary. In front of my rooms, in former days, at Papamhow, was a
garden, full of choice plants, and a very fine young India-rubber tree;
it was pleasant to see the bright green of the large glossy leaves of the
caoutchouc tree, which flourished so luxuriantly. In those days, many
flowering trees adorned the spot; among which the katchnar (bauhinia),
both white and rose-coloured and variegated, was remarkable for its
beauty. Sir Charles had destroyed my garden, without looking to see what
trees he was cutting down; he had given the ruthless order. I spoke of
and lamented the havoc he had occasioned; to recompense me, he promised
to spare the avenue; which, when I revisited it years afterwards, was in
excellent preservation.
_14th._—The Bāiza Bā’ī sent for me in great haste; she was in alarm
respecting the Gaja Rājā, who was ill of epidemic fever. Having lost her
daughter, the Chimna Bā’ī, of fever, when she was driven out of Gwalior
by her rebellious subjects, she was in the utmost distress, lest her only
remaining hope and comfort, her young grand-daughter, should be taken
from her. I urged them to call in European medical advice; they hesitated
to do so, as a medical man might neither see the young Princess, nor feel
her pulse. I drove off, and soon returned with the best native doctress
to be procured; but, from what I heard at the consultation, it may be
presumed her skill is not very great.
The Nawāb Hakīm Menhdī is very ill; I fear his days are numbered.
The murder of Mr. Frazer, by the Nawāb Sumshoodeen, at Delhi, who bribed
a man called Kureem Khan to shoot him, took place when I was at Colonel
Gardner’s; no one could believe it when suspicion first fell upon the
Nawāb; he had lived on such intimate terms with Mr. Frazer, who always
treated him like a brother. The Nawāb was tried by Mr. Colvin, the judge,
condemned and executed. The natives at Allahabad told me they thought it
a very unjust act of our Government, the hanging the Nawāb merely for
bribing a man to murder another, and said, the man who fired the shot
ought to have been the only person executed. On Sunday, the 13th March,
1835, Kureem Khan was foiled in his attempt on Mr. Frazer’s life, as
the latter was returning from a nāch, given by Hindoo Rāo, the brother
of the Bāiza Bā’ī. He accomplished his purpose eight days afterwards,
on the 22nd of the same month. In the Hon. Miss Eden’s beautiful work,
“The Princes and People of India,” there is a sketch of Hindoo Rāo on
horseback; his being the brother of the Bāiza Bā’ī is perhaps his most
distinguishing mark; I have understood, however, he by no means equals
the ex-Queen of Gwalior in talent.
_June 7th._—Sir Charles Metcalfe gave a ball to the station: in spite of
all the thermantidotes and the tattīs it was insufferably hot; but it is
remarkable, that balls are always given and better attended during the
intense heat of the hot winds, than at any other time.
_9th._—The Bāiza Bā’ī sent word she wished to see me ere her departure,
as it was her intention to quit Allahabad and proceed to the west: a
violent rheumatic headache prevented my being able to attend. The next
morning she encamped at Padshah Bāgh, beyond Allahabad, on the Cawnpore
road, where I saw her the next evening in a small round tent, entirely
formed of tattīs. The day after she quitted the ground and went one march
on the Cawnpore road, when the Kotwal of the city was sent out by the
magistrate to bring her back to Allahabad, and she was forced to return.
Her grand-daughter is very ill, exposed to the heat and rains in tents.
I fear the poor girl’s life will be sacrificed. Surely she is treated
cruelly and unjustly. She who once reigned in Gwalior has now no roof to
shelter her: the rains have set in; she is forced to live in tents, and
is kept here against her will,—a state prisoner, in fact.
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!