DEPARTURE FROM THE PRESIDENCY.
Fulbertus Sagittarius—Billiards—The Recall of
Lord Amherst—Zenāna of an opulent Hindū—The Death
of Bishop Heber—Affliction in the Family of the
Governor-General—Appointment to Allahabad—Sale of ‘Scamp’—March
up the Country—Dāk Bungalows—Fakīrs en route—The Soane
River—Sassaram—Satīs at Nobutpoor—Benares—Pūjā in a Hindū
Temple—Brāhmanī Bulls—The Minarets—Beetle Wings—Hindū
House—Benares Hackeries—Dāk to Allahabad—Visit to Papamhow.
1826.—Lady Amherst is on horseback at gun-fire; few young women could
endure the exercise she takes. She is an admirable equestrian, and
possesses all the fondness of an Archer for horses. Her ladyship has won
my heart by expressing her admiration of my beautiful Arab. His name
originally was Orelio; but having become such a frisky fool, he has been
rechristened ‘Scamp.’
On the death of Lord Archer, in 1778, she “who knew and loved his
virtues,” inscribed the following sentence on his tomb: “He was the last
male descendant of an ancient and honourable family that came over with
William the Conqueror, and settled in the county of Warwick in the reign
of King Henry the Second, from whom his ancestors obtained the grants of
land in the said county.”
When it was recorded on his monument at Tanworth that Lord Archer was the
last of the male branch of the Archers who came over with the Conqueror,
little did Lady Amherst (then the Hon. Miss Archer) imagine that, in
her future Indian career, she would cross the path of the poor Pilgrim,
the child of one of the noblest and best of men, who through Humphrey
Archer, deceased 1562, is a direct descendant, in the male line, from our
common ancestor, Fulbertus Sagittarius[25].
_March._—Lord Amherst has been recalled, a circumstance we regret. He
has had great difficulties to contend with since his arrival; and now,
just at the moment his troubles are nearly ended, he has been recalled. I
believe his lordship signified to the Home Government his wish to resign.
In a climate so oppressive as this, billiards are a great resource in a
private house; the table keeps one from going to sleep during the heat of
the day, or from visiting Europe shops.
_April 17th._—The perusal of Lady Mary Wortley Montague’s work has
rendered me very anxious to visit a _zenāna_, and to become acquainted
with the ladies of the East. I have now been nearly four years in India,
and have never beheld any women but those in attendance as servants in
European families, the low caste wives of petty shopkeepers, and _nāch_
women.
I was invited to a _nāch_ at the house of an opulent Hindū in Calcutta,
and was much amused with an excellent set of jugglers; their feats with
swords were curious: at the conclusion, the baboo asked me if I should
like to visit his wives and female relatives. He led me before a large
curtain, which having passed I found myself in almost utter darkness:
two females took hold of my hands and led me up a long flight of stairs
to a well-lighted room, where I was received by the wives and relatives.
Two of the ladies were pretty; on beholding their attire I was no longer
surprised that no other men than their husbands were permitted to enter
the zenāna. The dress consisted of one long strip of Benares gauze of
thin texture, with a gold border, passing twice round the limbs, with the
end thrown over the shoulder. The dress was rather transparent, almost
useless as a veil: their necks and arms were covered with jewels. The
complexion of some of the ladies was of a pale mahogany, and some of
the female attendants were of a very dark colour, almost black. Passing
from the lighted room, we entered a dark balcony, in front of which
were fine bamboo screens, impervious to the eye from without, but from
the interior we could look down upon the guests in the hall below, and
distinguish perfectly all that passed. The ladies of the zenāna appeared
to know all the gentlemen by sight, and told me their names. They were
very inquisitive; requested me to point out my husband, inquired how many
children I had, and asked a thousand questions. I was glad to have seen
a zenāna, but much disappointed: the women were not ladylike; but, be it
remembered, it was only at the house of a rich Calcutta native gentleman.
I soon quitted the apartments and the nāch.
The sketch of “a Bengālī woman” represents the style of attire worn by
the ladies of the baboo’s zenāna, with this difference, that the dress of
the woman called a _sārī_ is of muslin, edged with a bright blue border;
it is passed several times round the figure, but the form of the limbs
and the tint of the skin is traced through it: no other attire is worn
beneath the _sārī_; it forms, although in one long piece, a complete
dress, and is a remarkably graceful one. Her nose-ring, ear-rings, and
necklaces are of gold; her armlet of silver; the anklets of the same
metal. A set of _chūrīs_ (bracelets) adorn her arms, below which is a row
of coral, or of cornelian beads. Silver chains are around her waist; her
hands and feet are stained with _hinnā_. She is returning to her home
from the river, with her _gāgri_, a brass vessel filled with water; her
attitude may appear peculiar, but it is natural; by throwing out one hip,
a woman can carry a heavy water-jar with ease. A child is often carried
astride the hip in the same manner; hence the proverb, speaking of a
vicious child, says, “Perched on your hip, he will peck your eyes out.”
The dark line of _surma_ is distinctly seen around her eyes, and a black
dot between the eyebrows.
_April._—We heard, with sorrow, the death of Bishop Heber, from my sister
at Cuddalore, whose house he had just quitted for Trichinopoly; after
preaching twice in one day, he went into a bath, and was there found
dead. It was supposed, that bathing, after the fatigue he had undergone,
sent the blood to the head and occasioned apoplexy.
[Illustration: A BENGALEE WOMAN.
فاني پارکس]
_May 18th._—Killed a scorpion in my bathing-room, a good fat old fellow;
prepared him with arsenical soap, and added him to the collection of
curiosities in my museum.
My Italian master praises me for application: he says, the heat is
killing him, and complains greatly of the want of rain. When I told
him we had had a little during the last two days, he replied, “You are
the favoured of God in Chowringhee, we have had none in Calcutta.” The
natives suffer dreadfully. Cholera and the heat are carrying off three
and sometimes five hundred a day.
An eclipse has produced a change in the weather, and the sickness has
ceased in the bazārs.
_August._—A gloom has been thrown over Calcutta; and Lord Amherst’s
family are in the deepest affliction, caused by the death of Captain
Amherst, which took place a short time ago. His lordship, his son, and
his nephew were seized with fever at the same time; Captain Amherst’s
became typhus, and carried him off. The family have proceeded up
the country. All those who have the pleasure of their acquaintance,
sympathize most deeply in their affliction; they are much respected.
_Oct. 18th._—My husband having received an acting appointment at
Allahabad, we prepared to quit Calcutta. The distance by the river being
eight hundred miles, and by land five hundred, we determined to march up
stage by stage, sending the heavy baggage by water.
On quitting the Presidency, a great part of our furniture, horses,
&c. were sold. I had refused 2000 rupees for my beautiful Arab; but
determined, as economy was the order of the day, to fix his price at
2500. The pair of greys, Atlas and Mercury, carriage-horses, sold for
2200 rupees, 300 less than they cost; they, as well as Scamp, were too
valuable to march up the country. This will give you some idea of the
price of good horses in Calcutta. One morning a note was sent, which I
opened (having received instructions to that effect), requesting to know
if the grey Arab was for sale. I answered it, and mentioned the price.
The gentleman enclosed the amount, 2500 rupees, about 250_l._, in a note
to me, requesting me to keep and ride the horse during the remainder
of my stay in Calcutta, and on my departure to send him to his stables.
For this charming proof of Indian _politesse_, I returned thanks, but
declined the offer. I felt so sorry to part with my beautiful horse, I
could not bear the sight of him when he was no longer my own: it was my
own act; my husband blamed me for having sold a creature in which I took
so much delight, and was not satisfied until he had replaced him by a
milk-white Arab, with a silken mane and long tail. Mootee, the name of my
new acquisition, was very gay at first, not comprehending the petticoat,
but on becoming used to it, carried me most agreeably. A fine Scotch
terrier was given me to bear me company on the journey, but he was stolen
from us ere we quitted Calcutta.
The people in Calcutta abused the Upper Provinces so much, we felt little
inclination to quit the city, although we had applied for an appointment
in the Mufassil. Imagining the march would be very fatiguing, I went on
board several pinnaces; they did not please me; then I crossed the river
to see the first dāk bungalow, and brought back a good account.
_Nov. 22nd._—We quitted Calcutta, crossed the river to the bungalow, on
the New Road, stayed there one day to muster our forces, and commenced
our journey the next.
Our marching establishment consisted of two good mares for the Stanhope,
two fine saddle Arabs for ourselves, two ponies, and nine hackeries,
which contained supplies and clothes, also a number of goats, and two
Arabs, which we had taken charge of for a friend. We travelled by the
Grand Military road, riding the first part of the stage, and finishing it
in the buggy.
_30th._—I now write from Bancoorah, some hundred miles from the
Presidency. Thus far we have proceeded into the bowels of the Mufassil
very much to our satisfaction. The change of air, and change of scene,
have wrought wonders in us both. My husband has never felt so well in
health or so _désennuyé_ since he left England. I am as strong as a Diana
Vernon, and ride my eight or ten miles before breakfast without fatigue.
We have still some four hundred miles to march; but the country is to
improve daily, and when we arrive at the hills, I hear we are to be
carried back, in imagination, to the highlands of Scotland. I have never
been there; _n’importe_, I can fancy as well as others. We rejoiced in
having passed Bengal Proper, the first one hundred miles; the country
was extremely flat, and, for the greater part, under water, said water
being stagnant: the road was raised of mud, high enough to keep it above
the swamp; a disagreeable road on a fly-away horse like my new purchase;
low, marshy fields of paddy (rice) were on either side: sometimes we came
to a bridge, surrounded by water, so that instead of being able to cross
it, you had to ford the nullah (stream) lower down. No marvel, Calcutta
is unhealthy, and that fevers prevail there; the wind flowing over these
marshes must be charged with malaria.
Bancoorah has a bad name. It is remarkable that almost all the horses
that are any time at the station, go weak in the loins.
_Dec. 2nd._—We reached Rogonautpoor, a very pretty spot, where there
are some peculiar hills. Here we found Sir A. B⸺ and his daughters; we
accompanied them in a ramble over the hills in the evening. Sir A. took
his Sipahee guard with him, having heard the hills were infested with
bears, but we found none.
At Chass, quail and partridge, snipe and pigeons, were abundant. I
generally accompanied my husband on his sporting expeditions in the
evening, either on foot or on a pony, and enjoyed it very much.
At Hazāree Bāgh I became possessed of the first pellet bow I had seen,
and found it difficult to use. We travelled from bungalow to bungalow.
They are built by government, and are all on the same plan; at each a
khidmutgar and a bearer are in attendance. At Khutkumsandy we were on the
hills. Partridges were in plenty by the nālā.
At one of the stages the bearer of the dāk bungalow stole a large silver
spoon off the breakfast-table. Happening, from his defending himself with
great vehemence, to suspect him of the theft, we sent for the police, to
whom he confessed he had hidden the spoon in the thatch of his own house.
They carried him on a prisoner.
The country from this place, through Ranachitty to Dunghye, is most
beautiful; fine hills, from the tops of which you have a noble and
extensive view. Sometimes I was reminded of my own dear forest, which in
parts it much resembles. The weak Calcutta bullocks finding it hard work,
we were obliged to hire six more hackeries. We rode the whole of this
stage. The road was too bad, and the hills too steep, for the buggy; but
as it was nearly shaded the whole distance by high trees, the heat of the
sun did not affect us. Tigers are found in this pass; and when Mootee my
Arab snorted, and drew back apparently alarmed, I expected a _sortie_
from the jungle. At this stage a horse ran away in a buggy, alarmed by a
bear sleeping in the road.
At the Dunghye bungalow some travellers had been extremely poetical:
“Dunghye! Dunghye! with hills so high,
A sorry place art thou;
Thou boasts not e’en a blade of grass,
Enough to feed an hungry ass,
Or e’en a half-starved cow.”
Nevertheless, we saw fine jungle and grass in plenty on every side, and
were told partridge and jungle fowl were abundant.
_En route_ were several parties of fakirs, who said they were going to
Jugunnath. These rascals had some capital tattoos with them. Several
of these men had one withered arm raised straight, with the long nails
growing through the back of the hand. These people are said to be great
thieves; and when any of them were encamped near us on the march, we
directed the chaukidārs (watchmen) to keep a good look out, on our horses
as well as our chattels. The adage says of the fakir, “Externally he is a
saint, but internally a devil[26].”
At Sherghattee we delivered the stealer of the spoon over to the
magistrate. In the evening I went out with the gentlemen on an elephant;
they had some sport with their guns.
At Baroon we bought some uncut Soane pebbles, which turned out remarkably
good when cut and polished. We rode across the Soane river, which was
three miles in breadth, and had two large sandbanks in the middle of the
stream. Wading through the water was most troublesome work on horseback.
Twice we were obliged to put the horses into boats, they struggled, and
kicked, and gave so much trouble. The Arab ‘Rajah’ jumped fairly out of
the boat into the stream. The mares worked hard getting the buggy across
the deep sand; they went into and came out of the boats very steadily.
On our arrival at Sahseram, a native gentleman, Shah Kubbeer-oo-deen
Ahmud, called upon us. At tiffin-time he sent us some _ready-dressed_
native dishes; I was much surprised at it, but the natives told me it
was his usual custom. In the evening, some fireworks, sent by the same
gentleman, were displayed, particularly for my amusement. The town is
very ancient, and there are numerous remains of former magnificence
rapidly falling into decay. The tombs are well worth a visit.
_Dec. 23rd._—We arrived at Nobutpoor, a very pretty place. The bungalow
is on a high bank, just above the Curamnassa river. To the right you have
a view of a suspension-bridge, built of bamboo and rope; on the left is a
suttee-ground, to me a most interesting sight. I had heard a great deal
regarding suttees in Calcutta, but had never seen one; here was a spot
to which it was customary to bring the widows to be burned alive, on the
banks of the Curamnassa, a river considered holy by the Hindoos.
In the sketch I took of the place are seven suttee mounds, raised of
earth, one of which is kept in good repair, and there are several more
in the mango tope to the left. The people said, no suttee had taken
place there for twenty years, but that the family who owned the large
mound kept it in repair, and were very proud of the glory reflected on
their house by one of the females having become suttee. A fine stone
bridge had been begun some years before by a Mahratta lady, but was never
finished; the remains are in the river. The touch of its waters is a dire
misfortune to an Hindoo; they carefully cross the suspension-bridge.
The next stage took us to the Mogul Serai; and, some rain having fallen,
we felt the difference between the cold of the up-country and the fogs of
Calcutta.
_Dec. 25th._—Arrived at Benares; and here, again, crossing the Ganges
was a great difficulty. The Arab ‘Rajah’ was so extremely violent in the
boat, that we were obliged to swim him over. At length we reached the
house of a friend in the civil service, and were well pleased to rest
from our labours. Rising and being on horseback by four A.M. daily, is
hard work when continued for a month.
My husband, finding it necessary to reach Allahabad by the 30th, left
me at Benares, to discharge the Calcutta hackeries, to get others, and
to continue my journey. During my stay, our friend took me into the
holy city, and showed me a great deal of what was most remarkable. Long
as I had lived in Calcutta, I had seen very little of native life or
the forms of pooja. The most holy city of Benares is the high place
of superstition. I went into a Hindoo temple in which pooja was being
performed, and thought the organ of gullibility must be very strongly
developed in the Hindoos.
It was the early morning, and before the people went to their daily
avocations, they came to perform worship before the idols. Each man
brought a little vessel of brass, containing oil, another containing
boiled rice, another Ganges’ water and freshly-gathered flowers. Each
worshipper, on coming into the temple, poured his offering on the head
of the idol, and laid the flowers before it; prayed with his face to the
earth, then struck a small bell three times, and departed. The Hindoo
women follow the same custom.
There were numerous uncouth idols in the temple. A black bull and a
white bull, both carved in stone, attracted many worshippers; whilst two
_living_ bulls stood by the side, who were regarded as most holy, and fed
with flowers.
If an Hindoo wishes to perform an act of devotion, he purchases a young
bull without blemish, and presents him to the Brāhmans, who stamp a
particular mark upon him; he is then turned loose, as a Brāhmani bull,
and allowed to roam at pleasure. To kill this animal would be sacrilege.
When they get savage they become very dangerous. The Brāhmani bulls roam
at pleasure through the bazaars, taking a feed whenever they encounter a
grain shop.
We ascended the minarets, and looked down upon the city and the Ganges.
Young men prefer ascending them at early dawn, having then a chance of
seeing the females of some zenāna, who often sleep on the flat roof
of the house, which is surrounded by a high wall. From the height of
the minarets you overlook the walls. I thought of Hadji Baba and the
unfortunate Zeenab, whom he first saw spreading tobacco on the roof to
dry. The shops of the kimkhwāb and turban manufacturers, as also of those
who prepare the silver and gold wire used in the fabric of the brocade
worked in gold and silver flowers, are well worth visiting.
Beetle wings are procurable at Benares, and are used there for
ornamenting kimkhwāb and native dresses. In Calcutta and Madras, they
embroider gowns for European ladies with these wings, edged with gold;
the effect is beautiful. The wings are cheap at Benares, expensive at
other places.
I was carried in a tanjan through Benares. In many parts, in the narrow
streets, I could touch the houses on both sides of the street with my
hands. The houses are from six to seven stories high.
In one of these narrow passages it is not agreeable to meet a Brāhmani
bull. Four armed men, barkandāzes, ran on before the tanjan to clear the
road. I procured a number of the brazen vessels that are used in pooja.
On my return we will have it in grand style; the baby shall represent the
idol, and we will pour oil and flowers over his curly head.
The cattle live on the ground-floor; and to enter a gay Hindoo house, you
must first pass through a place filled with cows and calves; then you
encounter a heavy door, the entrance to a narrow, dark passage; and after
ascending a flight of steps, you arrive at the inhabited part of the
house, which is painted with all sorts of curious devices. I visited one
of these houses; it was furnished, but uninhabited.
The contents of the thirteen small hackeries were stowed away upon four
of the large hackeries of Benares, which started on their march with the
buggy and horses. For myself, a dāk was hired. Our friend drove me the
first stage, and then put me into my palanquin. I overtook the hackeries,
and could not resist getting out and looking into the horses’ tents.
There they were, warm and comfortable, well littered down, with their
sā’īses asleep at their sides; much more comfortable than myself during
the coldness of the night, in the pālkee. The bearers broke open one of
my bahangīs, and stole some articles.
I reached Raj Ghāt early, and crossed the river. The fort, with its long
line of ramparts, washed by the river, and the beauty of a Dhrumsālā,
or Hindoo alms-house, on the opposite bank, under one of the arches of
which was an enormous image of Ganesh, greatly attracted my attention. I
watched the worshippers for some time, and promised myself to return and
sketch it[27].
The carriage of a friend was in waiting at this spot, and took me to
Papamhow, where I rejoined my husband. Notwithstanding the difficulties,
which according to report we expected, we made good progress, and arrived
at Allahabad on the 1st of January, after a very pleasant trip. Indeed,
this short time we agreed was the most approaching to delightful that we
had passed in India; the constant change of scenery, and the country very
beautiful in some parts, with the daily exercise, kept us all, horses
included, in high health and spirits. We travelled at the rate of about
fifteen miles a day, making use of the staging bungalows that have been
erected for the accommodation of travellers, as far as Benares; thence
we travelled by dāk to Prāg, the distance being only ninety miles. So
much for our journey, which, considering our inexperience, I think we
performed with much credit to ourselves.
A friend received us at Papamhow with the utmost kindness, housed and fed
us, and assisted us in arranging our new residence, which, by the bye,
has one great beauty, that of being rent free: no small consideration
where the expense of an unfurnished house is equal to that of a small
income in England. Said house is very prettily situated on the banks of
the Jumna, a little beyond the Fort. We like our new situation, and do
not regret the gaiety of the City of Palaces; indeed, it now appears to
me most wonderful how we could have remained there so long: in climate
there is no comparison, and as to expense, if we can but commence the
good work of economy, we may return on furlough ere long.
The peaceful termination of the war with Ava was one of the happy events
of this year.