And yet, by heav’n, I love thee still:
Can aught be cruel from thy lip?
Yet say, how fell that bitter word
From lips which streams of sweetness fill,
Which nought but drops of honey sip?
Go boldly forth, my simple lay,
Whose accents flow with artless ease,
Like orient pearls at random strung;
Thy notes are sweet, the damsels say,
But oh, far sweeter, if they please
The nymph for whom these notes are sung!
-----
Footnote A:
A _melted ruby_ is a common periphrasis for wine in the Persian
poetry. See Hafiz, ode 22.
Footnote B:
Zoleikha, Potiphar’s wife.
Footnote C:
Joseph.
-----
Now for my friend, the _Mirza_; who while in England, published a small
collection of poetry he had addressed, in the Persian language, (most
ably translated by George Swinton, Esq.) to a young lady, of whom we are
to suppose he was deeply enamoured. In this rhodomontade, which conforms
exactly with Indian hyperbole, there are certainly some figures which
cannot fail to strike an European; yet are they mere common-place
expressions, familiar to every native who has been introduced to that
labyrinth of poetical absurdity, so delectable among Asiatics.
Take the following extracts from the poems at large, as a specimen of
the author’s talents.
_Praise of her Ornaments_
‘Upon this ear hangs a cloud surcharg’d with lightning;
Or is it Venus sits enthroned in her ear-ring?
On that ear, behold Jupiter augments her beauty;
In one morning who ever saw both constellations?
Since the lobe of the ear is the polar-star of the world of elegance,
Her ear-rings are the Greater and Lesser Bears which revolve around!’
Here we have fustian for metaphor, and a most un-astronomical
dissertation on Jupiters, Venuses, Polar-Stars of elegance, together
with big and little Bears revolving around them! How will Herschell
stare when he reads of this new system!
_Praise of her gait and stature_.
‘From the extreme fineness of her waist,
The shadow of her ringlets is a burthen to her stature.
Her stature is a cypress _when she walks_,
But it bears, however, the fruit of seedless pomegranates.
She moves more gracefully than the water of life.
Like me, the pheasant and partridge are lost in astonishment.
Although she should tread on the pismire at her feet,
Its smallest hair would receive no injury.
Yes, it is for this that she treads so lightly,
Under every step lie a hundred souls!’
The following may be considered the very acmé of absurdity!
‘When they wash’d _pearls_ and the _moon_ pure
With BIRDS’ MILK, they have modell’d the globes of her breast!’
And again,
‘Her chin is not an apple of the garden,
It is a WELL full of the water of life!’
And, once more, again,
‘Her lip demands tribute from sugar-candy,
The BLOOD OF WINE is its only nourishment!’
Why, really, if some other parts of the work did not assure us that the
object of adoration possessed every virtue, and every agreeable quality,
the world might be induced, by the foregoing lines, to consider her a
most incorrigible toper! Let not these samples serve for _all_ the poets
of Hindostan, though they may suffice to exhibit that fantastic illusion
which characterizes them in general: some authors, natives of India,
have afforded proofs of genius, such as leave us to lament that their
talents were not duly cultivated and patronized. The following little
canzonet, translated from the poems of Yuqueen, a celebrated Hindostanee
author, happens to lie open before me, seeming to offer itself for
quotation. I think my readers will admit, that, though it does not
indicate inspiration, yet that it breathes the spirit of pathetic
numbers.
THE DAFFODIL.
One day among the tombs I stray’d,
Where many slighted lovers lay:
A daffodil I there survey’d,
Which seem’d in grief to pine away!
Enquiring why it hung its head?
And why in grief it seem’d to pine?
‘I am the eyes of him,’ it said,
‘Who lies beneath this lowly shrine!’
Like me, sad emblems of despair,
Still seek they to behold again
That cruel, that relentless fair,
Who wrought his death by her disdain!
It does, alas! from this appear,
That Love admits of no release;
Torments its vot’ries while they’re here,
Nor can the grave afford them peace!
Without upholding this little production as a prodigy, it may, perhaps,
be safely adduced as a contrast to those beauties I have selected from
the _Mirza’s_ little book of great wonders.
The frequency of fires, occasioned by the common practice of thatching
houses, has caused many regulations to be adopted, in regard to what
Europeans commonly call the ‘Black Town’ at Calcutta. About twenty years
ago, the principal streets were considerably widened, and the whole of
the new tenements were ordered to be tiled. This created some
dissatisfaction at the time, yet has not only been of great advantage to
the inhabitants at large, but is now confessed, by the natives, to have
been highly beneficial, both to their health, and to their convenience.
Formerly, it was common to see immense piles of grass all along the
banks of the river, brought thither for the purpose of supplying persons
who might have occasion to thatch; of late years, however, the quantity
has been considerably reduced; there being not a twentieth part of the
former demand. Many of these stacks doubtless contained full 20,000, or
25,000 cubic feet, and would have formed a diminutive representation of
the infernal regions, had they taken fire; to which accident they were
subject equally with any part of the town. Owing to the cheapness of
bamboos and mats, as well as to the immense value of land at Calcutta,
most of the natives build their huts chiefly of those materials; the
whole of the uprights, rafters, &c., being of bamboo, and the walls,
partitions, &c., being of mats, supported by bamboo laths. The roofs are
first covered with mats, or _seerky_, and then tiled, generally with
that kind called _nullies_, which are about eight inches in length,
representing the half of a truncated hollow cone, whose base may be
about four inches in diameter.
These _nullies_ are commonly laid upon roofs, at an angle of about 30°
of elevation from the horizon; but the _chuppers_, or grass-thatches,
usually are constructed at full 40°. At the military stations, where
grass is invariably in use for the covering in of the cabins of the
sepoys, &c. it is usual to order the surfaces of all thatches to be
smeared with mud; from about November, to the setting in of the rains.
Many very extensive lines owe their safety to this precaution; whereby
not only are sparks prevented from communicating with the grass, which
usually is as prompt as tinder in taking fire, but even when the thatch
is partially kindled, the flames are greatly impeded, and more easily
subdued.
The walls of huts being very frequently made of grass, tied in between
bamboo laths; (like those fences we sometimes see put to folds in
yeaning time, to keep the lambs warm during the night;) require to be
well coated with mud: otherwise, they would be constantly subject to
accension, in consequence of the too common practice of making the
_choolah_, or fire-place, very near thereto; thus endangering both from
the flame, and from the embers. As to putting out a fire that has once
got firm hold of a plain thatch, it is a hopeless business: the only
chance of saving the street, is to pull down all the neighbouring huts.
This is not attended with that loss to which our European towns would be
subjected by such a preventive; since, generally speaking, a very
tolerable hut, fit for the accommodation of a moderate family, may be
built, complete, for about the value of a guinea, or even much less.
Although water is generally at hand, there being abundance of wells, or
tanks, or puddles, in the vicinity of every village, still it is deemed
necessary, by gentlemen whose _bungalows_, &c., are contiguous to
_bazars_, (or markets,) or to the lines of native troops, &c. where
thatches are numerous, to have large vessels fastened along the
ridge-poles of their stables, and other out-offices. These being
constantly kept full of water, prove an immense aid towards the
preservation of those buildings on which they are placed: since, in case
of any neighbouring conflagration, it is easy for one or more persons to
wet the thatch very thoroughly; or they may reserve the water until the
moment of exigency, to be thrown upon any part that may be in immediate
danger. If the thatch should have taken fire, so as to render it
imprudent for persons to ascend to the pots, they, being rather brittle,
may always be broken to pieces by throwing bricks, or clods, &c. at
them. Some gentlemen adopt the precaution, above described, of
plastering the thatches of their out-offices with mud; but, such a
procedure is highly impolitic, in respect to edifices intended to be
durable; as the white-ants never fail to visit such plastered thatches,
and to destroy the grass entirely: sometimes they even eat the timbers.
Tiles certainly offer greater security than thatches, but they are
insufferably hot; causing every thing placed under them to warp, crack,
and otherwise to perish: tiled stables are found to be very injurious to
the health of cattle. The best plan I ever saw, was to have a coating of
tiles, laid in mortar on a thatch; but, for such a mode of construction,
very substantial timbers were requisite. This not only insured from
fire, but from leaks also; and rendered the interior remarkably cool
during the hot season.
The long continuance of the periodical rains, which often fall in
torrents for whole days, and frequently keep drizzling for near a week,
with little or no intermission, renders it necessary to protect all
exterior walls by copings, either of tiles, or of thatch. The former
mode is effected by small tiles, laid in the usual manner, but cemented
with lime mortar; or by immense large ones, nearly semi-cylindrical,
whose curve may measure full a yard, and whose breadth may be from
fifteen to twenty inches; the thickness, perhaps, an inch and a half.
These last are merely slung over the top of the wall, which is formed so
as to retain them firmly, and are overlapped about two or three inches.
The thatches are generally made with a double pent, each face being
about a yard in depth: they are secured by being fastened together at
their junction above, and by means of stakes passing through the wall;
to these their eaves are tied with grass, or coarse hempen twine.
Nothing can be more uncomfortable than a leaky _bungalow_! The water
trickles down the walls, dissolving the coat of mud, or sand plaster,
and greatly disfiguring the interior. It often happens, that the outer
walls are so far damaged by heavy rains, accompanied by a driving wind,
as to be rendered unserviceable in the course of a night; the whole
being completely sapped through. After such weather, the damages are
frequently extensive; the walls surrounding gardens, &c. though
substantially built, and duly coped, are seen to give way for scores of
yards; falling with a tremendous crash. This is usually occasioned by
some ditch near their bases, which, being filled by the heavy rains,
that soak into the banks, in a few hours yield to the great weight on
their borders. Fortunately, such damages are speedily repaired at no
very great expence; a rod of wall about eight feet high, and averaging
two feet in thickness, being generally built for about ten shillings: in
some places for half that sum.
Most of the _bungalows_ built by Europeans are run up with sun-dried
bricks; usually of a large size, eight of them making a cubic foot; each
being a foot long, six inches broad, and three inches thick. With these,
in a proper state for building, work proceeds at a great rate, but much
care must be taken that the mortar, that is, the slime used for cement,
be of a proper consistence, and be well filled in. Bricks are generally
made in wooden moulds, which, being laid on some level spot, previously
swept, so as to remove stones, &c., are filled with mud; the surface is
then levelled, either with the hand, or with a strike, when the mould is
raised, by means of handles, and washed in a large pan of water, and
then placed on a fresh spot, contiguous to the brick already formed. An
expert laborer in this avocation, will, if duly supplied with mud, and
water, make from 2000 to 2500 bricks daily of the above dimensions: it
will usually require one laborer to mix the soil, one to supply water,
and two hand-barrow men, to keep one brick-maker in constant work: the
whole expence may be about sixteen or eighteen pence: the same quantity
of work done in England would cost full as many shillings.
Some of the _rauz_, or bricklayers, in India, are very clever, so far as
relates to mere practical operations; but they have not the smallest
idea of planning from paper, or on paper; or of computing the quantities
of materials, or the amount of labor. They work with a small trowel,
much the same as that in use with us, and chip their bricks, whether
sun-dried or burnt, with a small hammer, having either one, or both, its
face, of a wedge form, and about three or four inches long from the
insertion of the handle. They preserve the perpendiculars by means of a
bell-shaped weight, commonly of free-stone, or of lead, or iron, to
which a long cotton cord is attached, having on it a piece of wood
exactly as long as the diameter of the weight’s base. This being pierced
in the centre, and applied endwise to any part, preserving it, at the
same time, as nearly horizontal as possible, points out the exact spot
which is perpendicular to the corresponding edge of the weight.
Supposing a wall to be run up to any height, if the stick be applied to
the upper tier of bricks, and the weight swings so as just to come in
contact with the ground tier, the wall will be perpendicular. The method
is simple, and the apparatus portable; therefore I may safely recommend
their adoption to our workmen; especially when a large plumb-bevil is
not at hand. It is true, that many of the bricklayers, employed under
regular architects, may be seen to use our tools of every description;
but this takes place only under such guidance: in all other instances,
the native bricklayer resorts to the practices of his ancestors; though,
to say the truth, they are by no means so unwilling to change for
better, as the opinionated British mechanic; who, I am obliged to
confess, must yield the palm for sobriety, cheapness, ingenuity, and
docility, to the unlettered artisan of the East. Nevertheless, I am
sensible that one English workman will ‘knock off’ more work than two,
or perhaps three, Asiatics of the same profession, and finish that work
in higher style; but, if we take into consideration, that the latter
employs tools such as the former would pronounce to be useless, and,
that he learns all by rote, without the smallest idea of figures,
proportions, or computations, we must, however unwillingly, give a
verdict by no means partial to our countrymen.
Another point greatly in favor of the poor Hindu, is, that he exercises
not only the profession of bricklayer, but of plasterer, tarras-maker,
&c. In like manner, we find the two professions of _looaur_ (blacksmith)
and _burrye_ (carpenter) often exercised by the same individual. I once
built a phaeton at Cawnpore, solely with the aid of a _reputed_
blacksmith, who wrought every part of the iron work in a very superior
manner, and constructed the whole of the wood-work in an excellent
style. Nay, he made the head, and lined it with woollen very neatly;
and, after all, lent a hand towards the painting. His wages were only
eight rupees (twenty shillings) monthly, and he never had been concerned
in constructing any kind of vehicle, except the _hackery_ in common use;
which has already been described.
The natives are extremely negligent regarding the strength of their
floors; they seem to be fully satisfied when the places where they lie
down on their mats are tolerably dry; though it is by no means uncommon
to see the whole interior so extremely damp, that, if any seeds, such as
wheat, peas, rice, &c., happen to fall, and to be swept to the skirts of
the apartments, such are sure to vegetate; frequently exhibiting a very
promising blade, before they fall, rather in consequence of accident,
than of design on the part of the tenants. Whatever the flooring may
consist of, whether clay, or tarras, that of the eating apartment is,
almost invariably, smeared with a solution of cow-dung; which certainly
gives a freshness, and may probably tend to salubrity; nor is it so
devoid of neatness as an European would imagine; but the scent is by no
means agreeable. Some ornament both the interior, and the exterior, of
their houses, by dipping the palms of their hands, horizontally, into
solutions of ochre, chiefly red, and then imprinting the walls with
their hands thus colored. These prints are put on irregularly, by no
means proving the taste of the operators, who, nevertheless, consider
their huts to be, (in the language of church-wardens,) ‘beautified;’ the
great consideration is, however, to typify the infinite power of the
Creator, whose hands are supposed to be innumerable, and perpetually in
action. Even horses, especially if white or dun colored, are very
frequently marked in the same manner, by means of _mindy_, (or
_hinnah_;) which, being reduced to a pulp, is applied to the part in
such form as it may be intended to appear. This plaster, for I know not
what else to call it, is allowed to remain until perfectly dry; when it
commonly cracks and falls off, leaving a rich _barré_ color; though, if
not allowed, either by the animal’s restlessness, or from want of time,
to impart its coloring matter duly, the stain will shew much fainter;
perhaps not unlike a light mahogany color.
The natives rarely omit to tinge about ten inches, or a foot, of the
extremity of the tail of every light-colored horse with _mindy_:
sometimes, also, at about two inches asunder, one or two rings are
stained in the same manner. Nor is this herb restricted solely to the
ornamenting, or, rather, the disguising of horses, oxen &c.; the
Hindostanee ladies generally stain the whole of the interior of their
hands, including the fingers, as well as the soles of their feet, with
_mindy_; the tips of all the nails are sure to undergo the operation;
which often compels the party sustaining this gratifying penance, to sit
motionless for hours; in order that the dye may take a firm hold of the
skin. When properly managed, the stain will remain for at least a month;
resisting every endeavor to wash it out, and seeming only to yield to
the constant growth of the outer skin.
It has often occurred to me, that, possibly, an excellent dye for
woollens might be obtained from the _hinnah_, which, being inspissated,
or reduced to an extract, could be imported among our dyers with
peculiar advantage. The plant, which is not unlike myrtle, is indigenous
throughout Hindostan, where it is principally employed in making garden
hedges, much the same as yew, box, &c., are among us; but, owing to its
not proving a defence against cattle, and being of slow growth, the
exterior hedges, in lieu of being formed of _hinnah_, are usually made
of _baubool_, a species of _mimosa_, yielding some gum, and otherwise
extremely serviceable; both from the excellence of its wood, for all
circular or angular work, requiring great strength, durability, and
toughness; and for its bark, which is at least equal to that of the oak
for tanning. The natives consider the application of _mindy_ to be
attended with good effects; they say it is cooling, but I should rather
apprehend it were the reverse, it being certainly an astringent, and
contributing to check perspiration: hence, the hands of such as apply it
commonly have a harsh, dry feel. That it may be a corrective of that
scent sometimes attendant upon an habitual discharge from the feet, may
be true; but, it remains still to be questioned, whether the obstruction
of such a discharge can be reconciled to prudence: it is, however, a
complaint very rarely to be met with in India; doubtless owing to
frequent washing, and to that abundant and general perspiration which
shews itself very conspicuously.
END OF THE FIRST VOLUME
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Transcriber’s Note
An extended quotation on the private lives of women, beginning on p.
347, is continued with each paragraph with an opening single quotation
mark, which convention ends ambiguously, without comment, on p. 408. The
succeeding paragraph begins a section on kite flying. This is the only
portion of the book to employ footnotes, save for those used to annotate
a poem beginning on p. 504.
Those footnotes are moved to follow the paragraph within which they are
references, and a sequenced numerically for uniqueness. Notes 3 and 7
are referenced twice each in the text. The three notes on the poem
beginning on p. 504 are lettered A, B, and C.
Keeping in mind the vintage of the text, spelling has generally been
followed.
In a discussion of language learning, on p. 178, the phrase “he added
five words each month” seems an error, but it is impossible to determine
what the author must have meant.
Hyphenation of compound words can be variable. Where it occurs on a line
break, the most commonly used form is assumed.
Errors deemed most likely to be the printer’s have been corrected, and
are noted here. The references are to the page and line in the original.
The following issues should be noted, along with the resolutions.
117.1 large quantit[i]es of good fish Added.
168.3 resentment at the vill[ia/ai]n’s audacity Transposed.
168.15 founded on p[er/re]judice Transposed.
178.19 [five words] _sic._
233.25 and that [t]he soup is well flavored Added.
253.11 while, on the other hand, [it ]is greatly Added.
depreciated;
304.12 that the Oore[e]ahs> are Added.
353.29 whenever _Soonees_ and [and] _Sheeaus_ Removed.
intermarry
378.28 Contrast this simple lament[at]ion Added.
380.26 upon enquiring into the sym[p]toms Added.
441.8 roses were collected on different days.[’] Removed.