SKETCHES IN BENGAL—THE SUNDERBANDS.
Toll at Jungipūr—Bengālee Women—Palace of the
Nawāb of Moorshadabad—Mor-pankhī—Snake Boats—Kāsim
Bazār—Berhampūr—Cintra Oranges—Cutwa Cloth—Culna—The
Timber Raft—Chandar-nagar—Sholā Floats—The
Hoogly—Chinsurah—Barrackpūr—Serampūr—Corn Mills—The
Shipping—Chandpaul Ghāt—River Fakīrs—M. le Général
Allard—Assam Leaf Insect—The Races—Kalī Mā’ī—Dwarkanath
Tagore—The Foot of a Chinese Lady—Quitted Calcutta—The
Steamer and Flat—The Sunderbands—Mud Islands—Tigers—The
Wood-cutters—Kaloo-rayŭ—Settlements—Culna—Commercolly—
Rājmahal—Monghir—Coolness of a Native—Pleasures of Welcome—The
Vaccine Department—The Gaja Rājā performs Pooja as a Fakīr—The
Eclipse—The Plague—The Lottery—Conversations in the Zenāna—The
Autograph—Delicacy of Native Ladies—Death of the King of
Oude—The Padshah Begam—Moona Jāh—The King’s Uncle raised to the
Throne.
1836, _Dec. 9th._—Arrived at Jungipūr, where a toll was levied of six
rupees on my bajrā, usually called budjerow, and two rupees on the cook
boat,—a tax for keeping open a deep channel in the river. During the
hour we anchored there, and the servants were on shore for provisions, I
was much amused watching the women bathing; they wade into the stream,
wash their dresses, and put them on again all wet, as they stand in the
water; wash their hair and their bodies, retaining all the time some
part of their drapery, which assumes the most classical appearance.
They wear their hair fastened behind in the Grecian fashion, large
silver nose-rings, a great number of white ivory churees (bracelets) on
their arms, with a pair of very large silver bangles on the wrists,
and massive ornaments of silver on their ankles; their drapery white,
with, perhaps, an edge of some gay colour; bright brass vessels for
water (gāgrī), or of porous red earthenware (gharā), in which they carry
back the river water to their dwellings. Having bathed, they repeat
their prayers, with their hands palm to palm raised to their faces, and
turning in pooja to particular points. After sipping the water a certain
number of times, taking it up in their hands, they trip away in their
wet drapery, which dries as they walk. The skin of the women in Bengal
is of a better tinge than that of the up-country women; they are small,
well-formed, and particularly graceful in their movements.
_10th._—The Bhaugruttī, as you approach Moorshadabad, is remarkably
picturesque, and presents a thousand views that would make beautiful
sketches. At this moment we are passing the Nawāb’s residence, or rather
the palace that is building for him; it is situated on the side of the
river, which presents a beautiful expanse of water, covered with vessels
of all sorts and sizes, of the most oriental and picturesque form. A fine
breeze is blowing, and the vessels on every side, and all around me, are
in every sort of picturesque and beautiful position. The palace, which is
almost quite completed, is a noble building, an enormous and grand mass
of architecture, reared under the superintendence of Colonel Macleod.
The mor-pankhī, a kind of pleasure boat, with the long neck and head
of a peacock, most richly gilt and painted, and the snake boats, used
on days of festival, are fairy-like, picturesque, fanciful, and very
singular. Pinnaces for hire are here in numbers. The merchant-boats built
at this place are of peculiar and beautiful form, as if the builder had
studied both effect and swiftness; the small boats, over which rafts are
fastened to float down wood; the fishermen’s little vessels, that appear
almost too small and fragile to support the men, and which fly along
impelled only by one oar; the well-wooded banks, the mosques, and the
mut’hs (Hindoo temples), mixed with curiously built native houses;—all
unite in forming a scene of peculiar beauty. Kasīm bazār adjoins
Moorshadabad; both are famous for silk of every sort. In the evening we
anchored at Berhampūr; the budgerow was instantly crowded with people,
bringing carved ivory toys, chess-men, elephants, &c., for sale, and
silk merchants, with handkerchiefs and Berhampūr silk in abundance;
all asking more than double the price they intended to take. Four more
dāndees having deserted, I have been obliged to apply to the Judge Sāhib
to procure other men.
The most delicious oranges have been procured here, the rinds fine and
thin, the flavour excellent; the natives call them “cintra;” most likely
they were introduced by the Portuguese. The station extends along the
side of the river, which is well banked, and offers a cool and refreshing
evening walk to the residents. I was tempted to buy some of the carved
ivory chess-men, an elephant, &c., all very cheap, and well carved in
good ivory; nor could I resist some silk nets for the horses.
_12th._—At Cutwa cotton cloth was offered for sale; I bought some, but
the purchase gave more trouble than the cloth was worth. The men asked
eighteen sicca-rupees for each piece of eighteen yards, and took eleven
Furrukhabad rupees; the mosquito curtains, for which they asked five
rupees each, they sold for three.
_14th._—Arrived at Culna, to which place the tide comes up. Here we
anchored, to buy charcoal and clarified butter for my own consumption,
and rice for the dāndees. We have passed a great many timber rafts that
are floating down to Calcutta, with wood, for sale; the timber is cut in
the hills. The stems of two large trees are lashed across a boat, and,
passing over the sides to a considerable distance, support a number of
trees, which float on the water, fastened along both sides of the boat;
on the boat itself is a thatched shed. On each raft are two hill-men,
their black bodies and heads completely shaved; with no clothing but a
bit of cloth passed between the limbs, and supported by a string tied
round the waist. They have a wild look as they row with their bamboo
oars the unwieldy rafts, three or four of which are fastened together;—a
picture in itself is the wild and strange-looking timber raft. A small
canoe, hollowed out of a single tree, is always the accompaniment to a
raft; I saw four men in a canoe of this sort crossing the river; one man
steered by using an oar, while the other three, by leaning forward, made
use of their hands alone as paddles; you may therefore imagine how narrow
the boat was, when a man could use a hand at each side at the same time
in the water, to paddle her forward. The men were laughing and shouting
most happily. They cut the timber in the hills, and come down with it for
scarcely any payment, merely just enough to feed them.
When the boats have delivered their wood in Calcutta, they take up one
boat, and put it into another, and in this way the double boats return
to the hills; for this reason two men alone come with one boat down the
stream, but in returning, more men are required to track against it; the
two boats being put one on the other, the four men suffice to take them
back again.
_15th._—This evening we anchored at Chandar-nagar, the town of Chandar,
_the moon_, commonly called Chander-nagore, and took a walk to see a
Bengālee temple, which looked well from the river. The building consisted
of a temple in the centre, containing an image of the goddess Kalī, and
five smaller temples on each side, each containing an image of Mahadēo;
a little further on were two images, gaily dressed in tarnished silk
and tinsel; the one a female figure, Unapurna, the other Mahadēo, as
a Bairāgī or religious mendicant. The village was pretty. I stopped
at a fisherman’s, to look at the curiously-shaped floats he used for
his very large and heavy fishing nets; each float was formed of eight
pieces of sholā, tied together by the ends, the four smaller within the
four larger. When this light and spongy pith is wetted, it can be cut
into thin layers, which, pasted together, are formed into hats; Chinese
paper appears to be made of the same material. The banks of the river,
the whole distance from Hoogly to Chinsurah and Chandar-nagar, presents
a view of fine houses, situated in good gardens, and interspersed with
the dwellings of the natives. There is a church at Chandar-nagar, where
there are also cantonments; and the grand depôt for the wood from the
up-country rafts appears to be at this place; the river-side was
completely covered with timber for some distance. The natives were
amusing themselves as we passed, sending up small fire balloons, and
brilliantly blue sky rockets.
The view is beautiful at Barrackpūr; the fine trees of the park
stretching along the side of the river; the bright green turf that slopes
gently down to the water; the number of handsome houses, with their
lawns and gardens; the Government-house and the buildings around it,
stuccoed to resemble white stone; the handsome verandahs which surround
the houses, supported by pillars; and the great number of boats gliding
about, render it peculiarly pleasing.
In front, on the opposite side of the river, is the Danish settlement
of Serampūr; its houses, which are large and handsome, are two or three
stories high. We are floating gently down with the tide; I can scarcely
write, the scenery attracts me so much,—the Bengālee mandaps (places of
worship) close to the water, the fine trees of every description, and
the pretty stone ghāts. We have just passed a ruined ghāt, situated in
the midst of fine old trees; at the top of the flight of steps are the
ruins of two Hindoo temples of picturesque form; an old peepul tree
overshadows them; its twisted roots are exposed, the earth having been
washed away during the rains. A number of women are bathing, others
carrying water away in gharās poised on their heads: the men take it away
in water vessels, which are hung to either end of a split bamboo, called
a bahangī, which is carried balanced on the shoulder. We fly past the
objects with the ebbing tide; what an infinity of beauty there is in all
the native boats! could my pencil do justice to the scenery, how valuable
would be my sketch-book!
The Governor-General, Lord Auckland, lives partly in Calcutta, and partly
at the Government-house at Barrackpūr. At Cassipūr is the house of the
agent for gunpowder, its white pillars half-hidden by fine trees. At
Chitpore is a high, red, Birmingham-looking, long-chimnied building,
with another in the same style near it; the high chimneys of the latter
emitting a dark volume of smoke, such as one only sees in this country
pouring from the black funnel of a steamer: corn is here ground in the
English fashion, and oil extracted from divers seeds. The establishment
cost a great sum of money, and I think I have heard it has failed, owing
to each native family in India grinding their own corn, in the old
original fashion of one flat circular mill-stone over another, called a
chakkī.
From this point I first caught a view of the shipping off Calcutta: for
ten years I had not beheld an English vessel: how it made me long for a
glimpse of all the dear ones in England! “The desire of the garden never
leaves the heart of the nightingale[15].”
Passing through the different vessels that crowd the Hoogly off Calcutta,
gave me great pleasure; the fine merchant-ships, the gay, well-trimmed
American vessels, the grotesque forms of the Arab ships, the Chinese
vessels with an eye on each side the bows to enable the vessel to see her
way across the deep waters, the native vessels in all their fanciful and
picturesque forms, the pleasure-boats of private gentlemen, the beautiful
private residences in Chowringhee, the Government-house, the crowds of
people, and vehicles of all descriptions, both European and Asiatic,—form
a scene of beauty of which I know not the equal.
We anchored at Chandpaul ghāt, amidst a crowd of vessels. The
river-beggars fly about in the very smallest little boats in the world,
paddled by one tiny oar: a little flag is stuck up in the boat, and on a
mat at the bottom, spread to receive offerings, is a collection of copper
coins, rice and cowries, thrown by the pious or the charitable to these
fakīrs; who, if fame belie them not, are rascals. “A gooroo at home, but
a beggar abroad[16].” I forgive them the sin of rascality, for their
picturesque appearance; the gifts they received were very humble. “A
kuoree is a gold mohur to a pauper[17].”
There not being room that night for our party at Spence’s hotel, I
was forced to sleep on board the budjerow, off Chandpaul ghāt. What a
wretched night it was! The heat was intolerable. I could not open a
window because the budjerows on either side were jammed against mine:
the heat, the noise, the mooring and unmooring, according to the state of
the tide, rendered it miserable work. I wished to anchor lower down, but
the answer was, “Budjerows must anchor here; it is the Lord Sāhib’s hukm
(order).”
_17th._—I took possession of apartments in Spence’s hotel: they were good
and well furnished. Since I quitted Calcutta, a great improvement has
taken place: a road has been opened from the Government-house to Garden
Reach, by the side of the river; the drive is well watered, the esplanade
crowded with carriages, and the view of the shipping beautiful.
M. le Général Allard, who had just returned from France, and was in
Calcutta _en route_ to rejoin Runjeet Singh, called on me; he is the
most picturesque person imaginable; his long forked beard, divided in
the centre, hangs down on either side his face; at dinner-time he passes
one end of his beard over one ear, and the other end over the other ear.
The General, who was a most agreeable person, regretted he had not seen
me when he passed Allahabad, but illness had prevented his calling and
delivering, in person, the bows and arrows entrusted to his charge.
I was much delighted with the General: he asked me to visit Lahore, an
invitation I told him I would accept with great pleasure, should I ever
visit the Hills, and he promised to send an escort for me. The General
took with him to Europe some fine jewels, emeralds, and other valuable
stones; he brought them back to India, as they were of less value in
Europe than in the East.
I could have remained contentedly at the hotel myself, but my up-country
servants complained there was no comfort for them; therefore I took a
small house in Chowringhee, and removed into it the furniture from the
budjerow. It was comfortable also to have my horses, which had arrived,
in the stables.
Went to a ball given in the English style by a rich Bengālee Baboo,
Rustam-jee Cowsajee. The Misses Eden were there, which the Baboo ought to
have thought a very great honour.
1837, _Jan. 1st._—Mr. H⸺ arrived from Assam, suffering from the effects
of one of the terrific fevers of that country: he brought me a _leaf
insect_,—a great curiosity.
_5th._—Made my salām at the Government-house, as in duty bound.
_9th._—The first day of the races: drove to the stand at seven A.M.,
through a deep, white, thick fog, so usual in the early morning in
Calcutta, which did my sore throat and cold no good.
_11th._—The second day of the races; the Auckland Cup was to be given
to the winner. The cup was of silver, the design remarkable, and very
beautiful. It was sketched by Miss Eden, and executed in good style by
Messrs. Pittar and Co., jewellers, in Calcutta. The winning horse came in
well: twenty yards beyond the post, as the jockey attempted to pull him
up, the horse dropped and died instantly. The cup was awarded to the dead
horse. It was a piteous sight.
_15th._—Accompanied Mr. W⸺ and a party over his racing stables: the sight
of the racers all ready for the contest in the morning was pleasing. We
then visited a number of imported English and Cape horses that were for
sale.
In the evening I drove to see the far-famed Bengālee idol, Kalī Mā’ī,
to which, in former times, human sacrifices were publicly offered; and
to which, in the present day, and in spite of the vigilance of the
magistrate, I believe, at times, a human being is offered up;—some poor
wretch who has no one likely to make inquiries about him. The temple is
at Kalī Ghāt, about two miles from Calcutta. The idol is a great black
stone cut into the figure of an enormous woman, with a large head and
staring eyes; her tongue hangs out of her mouth, a great broad tongue,
down to her breast. The figure is disgusting. I gave the attendant
priests a rupee for having shown me their idol, which they offered with
all reverence to Kalī Mā’ī. The instruments with which, at one stroke,
the priest severs the head of the victim from the trunk are remarkable.
_16th._—A cup of silver, given by a rich Bengālee, Dwarkanath Tagore,
was run for: the cup was elaborately worked, and the workmanship good;
but the design was in the excess of bad taste, and such as only a Baboo
would have approved. It was won by Absentee, one of the horses I had seen
in the stable the day before, contrary to the calculation of all the
knowing ones in Calcutta.
_17th._—The inhabitants of Calcutta gave a ball to the Miss Edens. I was
too ill to attend.
_30th._—Dined with an old friend at Alipūr, some two miles from Calcutta.
The coachman being unable to see his way across the maidān (plain),
stopped. The sā’īses, who were trying to find out where they were,
ran directly against the walls of the hospital; the fog was so dense
and white, you could not see a yard before you; it made my cough most
painful, and the carriage was two hours returning two miles.
_Feb. 4th._—I spent the day at the Asiatic Society. A model of the foot
of a Chinese lady in the collection is a curiosity, and a most disgusting
deformity. The toes are crushed up under the foot, so as to render the
person perfectly lame: this is a less expensive mode of keeping a woman
confined to the house, than having guards and a zenāna—the principle is
the same.
Having bid adieu to my friends in Calcutta, I prepared to return to
Allahabad, and took a passage in the Jellinghy flat. The servants went up
the river in a large baggage boat, with the stores, wine, and furniture.
I did not insure the boat, insurance being very high, and the time of the
year favourable. The horses marched up the country.
_March 6th._—I went on board the Jellinghy flat, established myself and
my ayha in a good cabin, and found myself, for the first time, located
in a steamer. She quitted Calcutta in the evening, and as we passed
Garden Reach, the view of handsome houses in well-wooded grounds, which
extend along the banks of the river, was beautiful. The water being
too shallow at this time of the year for the passage of the steamer up
the Bhaugruttī, or the Jellinghy, she was obliged to go round by the
sunderbands (sindhū-bandh). The steamer herself is not the vessel in
which the passengers live; attached to, and towed by her, is a vessel as
large as the steamer herself, called a flat, built expressly to convey
passengers and Government treasure. It is divided into cabins, with one
large cabin in the centre, in which the passengers dine together.
_7th._—We quitted the Hoogly and anchored in the sunderbands. The
sunderbands is a large tract of low muddy land, covered with short thick
jungle and dwarf trees. It is an assemblage of islands, the tides flowing
between them. A more solitary desolate tract I never beheld. We anchored
where three streams met, flowing in from between these low mud islands.
When the tide turned in the middle of the night, the steamer swung round
on the flat with a crash; several times the two vessels were entangled in
this manner; the steamer drove in one of the cabin windows, and it was
some time ere every thing was right again. Exposed to the power of the
three streams, she was never quiet, never at rest: the children cried,
the ducks did not like to be killed, and the vessels were wrestling
together for hours—an unquiet night.
_8th._—The mud islands are under water at high tide. At this moment we
are passing through a very narrow passage; on each side the thick, low,
impenetrable jungle comes down to the water’s edge. Not a tree of any
size to be seen; not a vessel, not an animal. During the whole of this
day I have only seen two paddy birds, and one deer. The thick jungle is
full of tigers; so much so, that the Hindoos on board are not allowed to
go on shore to cook their food on that account. Going along with the tide
in our favour, the swiftness of the steamer is terrific; the velocity
with which we pass the banks makes me giddy. We have just passed a spot
on which an oar is stuck up on end. The captain of the flat pointed it
out to me as a sign that a native had been carried off at that spot by
a tiger. It is the custom to leave an oar to point out the spot, or to
stick up a bamboo with a flag attached to it—as in Catholic countries a
cross is erected on the spot where a murder has been committed.
“Kaloo-rayŭ is a form of Shivŭ: the image is that of a yellow man sitting
on a tiger, holding in his right hand an arrow, and in his left a bow. A
few of the lower orders set up clay images of this god, in straw houses,
and worship them at pleasure. The wood-cutters in the eastern, western,
and southern forests of Bengal, in order to obtain protection from wild
beasts, adopt a peculiar mode of worshipping this idol. The head boatman
raises elevations of earth, three or four inches high, and about three
feet square, upon which he places balls of clay, painted red; and,
amongst other ceremonies, offers rice, flowers, fruits, and the water of
the Ganges carried from the river Hoogly, keeping a fast: the god then
directs him in a dream where to cut wood free from danger. There is no
authority for this worship in the shastrŭs. Dŭkshina-rayŭ is another god,
worshipped in the same manner, and by the same class of persons[18].”
_9th._—Last night two boats full of wood-cutters passed us; they said
several of their men had been carried off by tigers. We have only
overtaken four boats all this time in the sunderbands. During the hot
weather people dare not come through this place; fevers are caught from
the malaria: at the present time of the year it is safe enough. There are
no inhabitants in these parts, the people finding it impossible to live
here. We have a very pleasant party on board, most of whom are going to
Allahabad. The vessel is a good one; the accommodation good, the food
also. It is very expensive, but as it saves one a dāk trip in this hot
weather, or a two or three months’ voyage in a country vessel, it is more
agreeable. The heat in these vile sunderbands is very great; during the
day, quite oppressive; when we enter the Ganges we shall find it cooler.
As we were emerging from the sunderbands and nearing the river, the banks
presented a scene which must resemble the back settlements in America.
Before this time we had scarcely met with a good-sized tree. Here the
trees partook of the nature of forest: some people were burning the
forest, and had made a settlement. Barley was growing in small portions,
and there were several dwarf cows. The scene was peculiar; a little bank
of mud was raised to prevent the overflow of the tide; the stumps of the
burned and blackened trees remained standing, with the exception of where
they had been rooted out, and a paddy field formed. Places for look out
erected on high poles were numerous, and thatched over: there a man could
sit and watch all night, lest a tiger should make his appearance. There
were a few miserable huts for the men, no women were to be seen; nothing
could be more primitive and more wretched than these young settlements in
the sunderbands. On the morning of the 10th we quitted this vile place,
and anchored at Culna to take in a fresh supply of coals.
_12th._—We arrived at Commercolly; anchored close to the bank, to take in
more coal: it was very oppressive, but the evening was beautiful; the sky
studded with stars, and the new moon just visible. I sat on deck enjoying
the coolness: we anchored very late, not until it was impossible to see
the proper course to steer on the river. We had at last gained the Ganges.
_13th._—Passed a great number of boats that were out fishing, and ran
over one of them containing four men, three were picked up immediately,
the fourth passed under the steamer, from her bows to her stern; he was
taken up exhausted, but uninjured. Some of the passengers are playing at
chess, others reading novels; some asleep, some pacing the deck under the
awning, all striving to find something wherewith to amuse themselves.
_14th._—We arrived off Gaur; I looked with pleasure on its woods in the
distance, recalled to mind the pleasant days I had passed there, and
thought of the well-oiled dākait who had called on me as his grandmother
to save him. It was just at this place that coming down the river we
turned to the right, and went a short cut down the Bhaugruttī, instead of
pursuing the course of the Ganges. A prize this day fell to my share in
a lottery, in Calcutta, of a silver vase enamelled in gold; but more of
this lottery hereafter.
_16th._—I got up early and went on shore at Rājmahal, roamed in the
bamboo jungle and amongst the ruins, until the ringing of the bell on
board the steamer announced the coals were on board, and the vessel ready
to start. Of all the trees in India, perhaps the bāns, bamboo, is the
most useful, as well as the most graceful. What can be more picturesque,
more beautiful than a clump of bamboos? From Calcutta to Allahabad,
the common route by the river is eight hundred miles; round by the
sunderbands the distance is nearly eleven hundred.
_18th._—Passed the Janghiera rock, and anchored at Monghir: bought
lāthīs, that is, solid bamboos, walking-sticks, sixty for the rupee. The
male bamboo is solid, the female hollow. I bought them for the use of the
beaters when M. mon mari goes out shooting.
_20th._—The strong westerly wind sent the fine sand from the banks in
clouds all over the vessel, filling the eyes and ears most unpleasantly.
_25th._—Anchored at Benares: the steamer started again at 8 A.M.; the
view of the ghāts as we passed was beautiful; the number of persons
bathing, their diversified and brilliantly coloured dresses, rendered the
scene one of great interest and beauty.
_26th._—Passed Chunar;—the place had lost much of the beauty it displayed
during the rains. A khidmatgār fell overboard, passed under the vessel
from head to stern, and was picked up by the boat just as he was on the
point of sinking. The skin was torn off the old man’s scalp; he received
no further injury. The next day, to my astonishment, he was in attendance
on his master at dinner-time, and seemed to think nothing of having been
scalped by the steamer!
_27th._—Received fruit and vegetables from an old friend at Mirzapore.
I am weary of the voyage, the heat for the last few days has been so
oppressive: very gladly shall I return to the quiet and coolness of my
own home. Aground several times on sandbanks.
_29th._—Started early, and arrived within sight of the Fort; were again
fixed on a sandbank; the river is very shallow at this time of the year.
With the greatest difficulty we reached the ghāt on the Jumna, near the
Masjid, and were glad to find ourselves at the end of the voyage. My
husband came down to receive and welcome me, and drive me home. The great
dog Nero nearly tore me to pieces in his delight. Her Highness the Bāiza
Bā’ī sent her people down to the ghāt to make salām on my landing, to
welcome and congratulate me on my return, and to say she wished to see me.
It was pleasant to be thus warmly received, and to find myself once more
in my cool and comfortable home on the banks of the Jumna-jee after all
the heat and fatigue of the voyage.
The Brija Bā’ī, one of the Mahratta ladies, was delighted to see me once
again, and performed a certain sort of blessing called balaiyā lenā, or
taking all another’s evils on one’s self; which ceremony she performed
by drawing her hands over my head, and cracking her fingers on her own
temples, in token of taking all my misfortunes upon herself. This mode
of blessing I have many times seen performed both by men and women, our
dependents and servants, both towards my husband and myself, on our
bestowing any particular benefit upon them; it expressed the depth of
their gratitude.
_April 6th._—The small-pox is making great ravages; some of our friends
have fallen victims. Lord William Bentinck did away with the vaccine
department, to save a few rupees; from which economy many have lost their
lives. It is a dreadful illness, the small-pox in this country. People
are in a fright respecting the plague; they say it is at Palee, and has
approached the borders of the Company’s territories; we have fevers,
cholera, and deadly illnesses enough, without the plague; it is to be
trusted _that_ will not be added to the evils of this climate.
The Palee plague, they say, after all, is not the _genuine_ thing: it
has not as yet entered our territories; however, the Government of Agra
have very wisely adopted preventive measures, and have established
boards of health, cordons, and quarantine, with the usual measures as to
fumigations and disinfectants. It would be really _too bad_ to give this
stranger a playground, in addition to our old friends fever and cholera,
already domesticated.
_15th._—The first time of using the thermantidote was this morning: how
delightful was the stream of cool air it sent into the hot room! how
grateful is the coolness and darkness of the house, in contrast to the
heat and glare on the river!
_15th._—This day is the anniversary of the birthday of the Gaja Rājā
Sāhib, and she has sent me an invitation to accompany her to the Trivenī,
the sacred junction of the rivers, to see her perform a vow, made for her
by her mother. The young Princess from her birth was very sickly, and the
mother, fearing the death of her infant, vowed to Mahadēo that if the god
would preserve her life, she should do pooja as a fakīr, at the shrine,
on each anniversary of her natal day. The time having arrived, the young
Mahratta Princess will perform the vow in the evening. How much I regret
I am unable to attend; unfortunately illness prevents my quitting the
house. Picture to yourself the extraordinary scene. The young Princess
doing pooja before the shrine of Mahadēo, a descent on earth of Shivŭ the
destroyer. Her delicate form covered from head to foot with a mixture
of ashes and Ganges mud; her long black hair matted with the same, and
bound round her head like a turban; her attire the skin of a tiger; her
necklace of human bones, a rosary in her hand, and a human skull for an
alms-dish,—a religious mendicant; or making discordant music on a sort
of double-headed hand-drum used by fakīrs, and wandering about within
the canvas walls of the zenāna tent like a maniac! The skull borne by
religious mendicants is to represent that of Brŭmha. Shivŭ, in a quarrel,
cut off one of Brŭmha’s five heads, and made an alms-dish of it. As the
Gaja Rājā appeared as a religious mendicant, the form in which the lord
of the Bhōōtŭs appeared on earth, I hope some of the ladies represented
the latter, a number of whom always attended Shivŭ. The Bhōōtŭs are
beings partly in human shape, though some of them have the faces of
horses, others of camels, others of monkeys, &c.; some have the bodies
of horses, and the faces of men; some have one leg, and some two; some
have only one ear, and others only one eye. They would have made charming
attendants on the little Princess, who, wrapped in a tiger’s skin, and
wandering like a maniac, performed, before the shrine of Mahadēo, the vow
made in her name by her mother at her birth!
The Hon. Miss Frances Eden has been with a party at Moorshadabad, tiger
shooting; they had indifferent sport, and only killed five tigers, one of
which had the happiness of dying before the eyes of the fair lady. They
have returned to Calcutta. It must have been warm work in the jungles
after the tigers; but when one has an object in view, one is apt to
forget the power of an Indian sun, until a good fever reminds one of the
danger of exposure.
_21st._—Last night, at midnight, the moon was completely eclipsed, and
darkness fell over the land. The natives are horror-struck; they say it
foretels sickness, disease, and death to a dreadful extent. It is not
unlikely their fears may be verified: the plague is raging at Palee; it
is expected it will spread ere long to the Company’s territories. Then,
indeed, will the natives believe in the direful presages of the eclipse,
forgetting the plague was the forerunner not the follower of the signs
of wrath in the heavens. Sir Charles Metcalfe has issued all necessary
orders to prevent the intercourse of persons from the infected cities,
with those of the surrounding country. The small-pox is carrying off the
young and the healthy; in every part of the country you hear of its fatal
effects.
The Brija Bā’ī, one of the favourite attendants on the Bāiza Bā’ī, came
to see me; I showed her a prize I had won in a lottery at Calcutta;
a silver vase beautifully enamelled in gold, value £40. She was much
pleased with it, and anxious to procure tickets in the next lottery for
mechanical curiosities.
_22nd._—The Bāiza Bā’ī sent to me to say she had put into a lottery, and
feared, having only taken seven tickets, she might not gain a prize,
and her people would say she was unlucky. Therefore, to avert the evil
of being called an unlucky person, she wished to procure the whole of
the tickets which remained unsold. I tried to persuade her that she
had tickets in abundance; nevertheless she sent for thirty more. How
curiously superstitious the natives are! She is as much pleased as a
child at this little bit of gambling for mechanical curiosities and
jewellery.
_24th._—The Brija came to request I would visit the camp to show them
how to use a magic-lantern; I did so, but it was a failure, being dim
and indistinct. In the course of conversation, wishing to remember a
circumstance related by one of the ladies in attendance, I noted it in
my pocket-book, on a little slate of white china. Her Highness, who
observed the action, asked for the pocket-book, examined it, admired
the delicately white china, and asking for a pencil wrote her own name
upon it. She appeared surprised at my being able to read and write,
accomplishments possessed by herself, but uncommon among the Mahratta
ladies, who are seldom able to attain them, it being the system of
eastern nations to keep their women in ignorance, imagining it gives them
greater power over them. They are taught to consider it unfit for ladies
of rank, and that it ought to be done for them by their writers and
mūnshīs; nevertheless, they were proud of the accomplishments possessed
by the Bāiza Bā’ī.
Her Highness returned me the pocket-book, which I received with pleasure,
and value highly for the sake of the autograph, of which, in the
plate entitled “The Kharīta,” the writing on the right-hand side is a
fac-simile.
All the needlework is done by women in the zenāna: to allow a tailor to
make your attire would be considered indelicate, and their clothes are
never allowed to be shown to men, lest they should thus be able to judge
of the form of the lady purdanishīn, _i.e._ behind the curtain. Imagine
the disgust an Asiatic lady would feel if placed in Regent Street, on
beholding figures displayed in shop windows, intended to represent
English ladies in corsets, bustles, and under petticoats, turning round
on poles, displaying for the laughter and criticism of the men the whole
curious and extraordinary arcana of the toilet of an European!
_May 5th._—The Bāiza Bā’ī was unable to get the thirty tickets she sent
for in the lottery; eighteen were all that were unsold, and these were
taken by her. She was very fortunate, and won two prizes; one was an
ornament in diamonds attached to a necklace of two strings of pearls,
and a pair of diamond ear-rings, valued at 2000 rupees, _i.e._ £200; the
second a clock, valued at 400 rupees, £40: my own ticket proved a blank.
The clock is placed on a rock in the picture, on which are trees, a
town, and a fort. In front is the sea, on which float a three-decker and
a cutter, which roll upon the waves moved by mechanism. The Mahrattas
were charmed with it: it is a good specimen, but they will spoil it in a
month.
_Copy from a native Akhbar (Court Newspaper)._
_July 7th._—“The King of Oude, Nusseer-ood-Deen Hydur, died
this morning; he had been unwell for some days, but not very
ill: he took some medicine, and expired almost immediately, not
without some suspicion of having been poisoned. Colonel Lowe,
the Resident, went to the palace, and was proceeding to place
the late King’s uncle on the throne, by name Nusseer-ood-Deen,
when the Padshah Begam, the late King’s mother, attended
by fifteen hundred soldiers and two elephants, came to the
palace, bringing a boy whom she vowed was the late King’s son,
with the intention of putting him on the throne. Finding the
palace-gates shut, she ordered them to be burst open by the
elephants, entered, placed the boy Moona Jāh (Feredooa Buckht)
on the throne, and desired the Resident to do him homage. In
the mean time, Colonel Lowe had sent for the troops; on their
arrival, he insisted on the Begam’s quitting the palace; this
she would not do. The troops were ordered to dislodge her
party. The Begam and Moona Jāh were taken prisoners, and sent
under a guard to Cawnpore. The soldiers were dispersed, with
the loss of about sixty lives on the Begam’s side, and two or
three sepoys on the Company’s. Mr. Paton, Assistant to the
Resident, was much hurt in the affray. Colonel Lowe placed the
King’s uncle on the throne, and proclaimed him King of Oude.
It is said the throne was plundered of its jewels to a great
amount, and much treasure was carried off by different persons;
some of which was recaptured a few miles from the city. Since
the arrival of the Padshah Begam and the boy at Cawnpore, every
thing has been quiet in Lucnow; she is to be sent a state
prisoner to Chunar. It is believed the boy is not the late
King’s son, but was made a tool of for the purposes of the
Begam.”
By referring to Chapter the Eighteenth it will be observed, that, on the
30th January, 1831, Khema Jāh and Moona Jāh were presented with khil’ats
(dresses of honour) by his Majesty, who declared the former to be his
heir, and both of them his sons; the latter, the Moona Jāh, now _en route_
to prison, alone was believed to be the son of the King. It is rumoured
that his Majesty disowned the boys in the hope that his lately-acquired
wife, Kurchia-Mahal, as he styled her, might present him with a son, whom
he might raise to the throne. Moona Jāh remained at Chunar until his death
in 1846. The King’s uncle, Muhammad Ulee Shah, an old man, was placed on
the masnad; and Mossem-ood-Dowla, the grandson of Ghazee-ood-Deen Hydur,
and son of his daughter, was deprived of his inheritance.—(See the
pedigree of the Kings of Oude, Chapter the Eighteenth, page 186.)