THE NUT LOG.
The Hounds—A Gumuki—The Eade—Trelawny—The Rev. J. Wolff—The
Nut Log—Balancing Goat—Sirrākee Grass—A Dividend—Ear-rings
of Jasmine—A Rat given to a Cow—The Mādār—Enamelled
Grasshoppers—The Shaddock—The Agra Gun—Corruption of
words—Variegated Locusts—Beautiful Flowers.
1833, _Feb. 1st._—The new hounds have just arrived; such little animals
by the side of Jan Peter (Trumpeter) and Racer! Out of eight couple there
is not a good dog; the gentlemen say three hundred rupees, _i.e._ £30, is
a long price for dogs not worth their food, and who would be better out
of than in the pack.
At the fair to-day, I purchased a gumuki, a sort of loose bag, the shape
of a carpenter’s square, large enough to admit the hand at one end, but
sewed up at the other. It is made of blue cloth, embroidered with figures
of the holy cow. A Hindoo will perform pooja seated on the ground, his
right hand passed into a bag of this sort. His hand holds, and he counts
most sedulously, a rosary of round beads (mālā), containing in number one
hundred and eight, exclusive of connecting beads, differently shaped: the
attention is abstractedly fixed on the deity, assisted by the rosary.
Sometimes it is composed of amber, sometimes of certain rough berries
sacred to the gods. Such rosaries, when used to promote abstraction,
are called jap-mālā. During the time, a cloth is bound over his mouth,
to prevent the entrance of insects; and he is supposed to be in holy
meditation.
_Feb. 22nd._—To-day is the Eed: it is customary for the Musulmāns to
put on very gay new clothes on this day, and to go to prayers at the
Jāmma Musjid, the large mosque on the banks of the Jumna. A camel is
often sacrificed on the Buckra Eed, on the idea that the animal will
be in readiness to carry the person who offers it over the bridge of
Sirraat, safe to heaven. The poorer classes will offer a goat (Buckra),
or a sheep, lambs, or kids. This festival is to commemorate Abraham’s
sacrifice of Isaac. The Musulmāns contend it was Ishmael not Isaac who
was the offering.
I have lost my companion, my horse Trelawny: he was so quiet, and
good-tempered, and good-looking; he was as pretty a boy as Hindoo or
Musulmān might look on in the Central Provinces. Poor Trelawny, Jumna-jee
rolls over my good steed! He died this morning of inflammation, caused by
some internal injury he received when we were plunging together in the
quicksands on the banks of the Ganges.
I am reading Captain Mundy’s “Sketches in India,” a much more amusing
journal than I can write. I have no tigers to kill, no hurdwar to visit;
nor have I even seen the taj. His journal is very spirited, very correct,
and very amusing; I am pleased to hear the praises bestowed upon it in
England.
Have you heard of the Rev. Joseph Wolff? He is a German Jew converted
to the faith of Christ: “Unto the Jews a stumbling-block, and unto the
Greeks foolishness.” He roams about the world in search of the lost
tribes of Israel, “preaching Christ, and him crucified,” in the churches,
and delivering lectures on the subject of the divinity of our Saviour,
and his own wanderings. When at Simla, he was with Lord William Bentinck,
and preached every Sunday in the presence of the Governor-general,
which he would not have been allowed to do had he not been an ordained
clergyman. He arrived here three days ago. In the evening he delivered
a lecture in the Fort, which was attended by all the inhabitants of
Allahabad. Curiosity is, I fear, stronger than religion; for I never
before saw the church so crowded.
My husband accompanied me to hear Mr. Wolff. He is a strange and most
curious-looking man; in stature short and thin; and his weak frame
appears very unfit to bear the trials and hardships to which he has been,
and will be, exposed in his travels. His face is very flat, deeply marked
with small-pox; his complexion that of dough, and his hair flaxen. His
grey eyes roll and start, and fix themselves, at times, most fearfully;
they have a cast in them, which renders their expression still wilder.
Being a German, and by birth a Jew, his pronunciation of English is very
remarkable; at times it is difficult to understand him: however, his
foreign accent only gives originality to his lectures, aided occasionally
by vehement gesticulation. His voice is deep and impressive; at times,
having given way to great and deep enthusiasm, and having arrested the
attention of his hearers, he sinks at once down into some common-place
remark, his voice becoming a most curious treble, the effect of which
is so startling, one can scarcely refrain from laughter. He understands
English very well; his language is excellent, but evidently borrowed more
from reading than from conversation. He makes use of words never used in
common _parlance_, but always well and forcibly applied. He carries you
along with him in his travels, presenting before you the different scenes
he has witnessed, and pointing out those customs and manners still in
use, which prove the truth of Scripture. His descriptions at times are
very forcible, and his account of the lives of St. Augustine and other
holy men very interesting.
In the midst of his discourse he said, “It is the custom in Jerusalem,
every Friday, for the Jews, the veils over their heads, in mourning and
lamentation, to proceed to the ruins of the walls of Jerusalem: for this
they pay tribute to the Turks. I will give you an idea of the hymn they
sing—the whole congregation:—
“‘The Mighty shall build his Temple speedily:
Lord, build, Lord, build, build thy Temple speedily:
In haste, in haste, even in our days,
Build thy Temple speedily.
He is beloved, he is great, he is glorious, he is sweet!
Lord, build, build thy Temple speedily:
In haste, in haste, even in our days,
Lord, build thy Temple speedily!’”
Having repeated this hymn in English, Mr. Wolff sang it in Hebrew, as the
Jews sing it before the wall of the Temple. His voice is fine, and the
words are melodious; I give them as written by himself.
HEBREW HYMN.
[Illustration: Hebrew Hymn.]
Transcriber’s Note: The music contains two errors, both corrected in the
audio file. Third system, bass clef, second bar, first note: Arpeggio is
missing. Fourth system, bass clef, first bar, first chord: Note written
as F is meant to be played as G.
“Ader ho, ader ho, yebne beitho bekarob,
Bimbeira, bimbeira, beyameenoo bekarob.
Eil bene, Eil benei, benei beitkha bekarob
Bimbeira, bimbeira, beyameenoo bekarob
Eil bene, Eil bene, benei beitkha bekarob.
Barokh hoo, gadol hoo, yebne beitho bekarob
Bimbeira, bimbeira, beyamenoo bekarob.
Eil bene, Eil benei, benei beitkha bekarob
Bimbeira, bimbeira, beyameenoo bekarob.
Eil bene, Eil bene, benei beitkha bekarob.”
I could not but feel for the man when I thought of the glory of his
nation that had passed away, the Temple that had been destroyed, and the
Jews wanderers on the face of the earth. Their supplication to the Lord
is affecting. “Even in our days build thy Temple speedily.” Mr. Wolff
repeated the hymn of the Carāites, and then chanted it in Hebrew: it is
beautiful and touching. The Rabbi, Simon Ben Nuhai, stood forth from the
congregation, and chanted these words:—
The Rabbi—
“On account of our Palace which is destroyed.”
And the people answer—
“We sit alone and weep!”
“On account of our Temple which is laid waste.”
“We sit alone and weep!”
“On account of Jerusalem which is desolate.”
“We sit alone and weep!”
“On account of our Princes who have sinned.”
“We sit alone and weep!”
The Rabbi—
“On account of our Kings who have committed iniquity.”
And the people answer—
“We sit alone and weep!”
“On account of our High Priests who have done wickedly.”
“We sit alone and weep!”
“On account of our Prophets who have seen false visions.”
“We sit alone and weep!”
“On account of our precious stones which are burned.”
“We sit alone and weep!”
Rabbi—
“Let shine thy government upon Zion.”
People—
“And build thou the walls of Jerusalem.”
Rabbi—
“Have mercy upon Zion.”
People—
“A branch shall spring forth at Jerusalem!”
A lady brought Mr. Wolff to call upon me, he being anxious to see my
collection of Hindoo idols. On his arrival, he introduced himself in
these words:—“I am of the tribe of Benjamin, and Benjamin was a ravening
wolf,—and so, they call me Wolff!”
On Sunday he preached, or rather gave us a homily, which was sufficiently
startling for even us Indians. What you sober people in England would
think of it, I know not. We dined at Mr. F⸺’s house, and met Mr. Wolff.
After dinner, he was very anxious all the ladies should write their names
in his Bible, which is seldom out of his hands, and was in such a state
I did not like to touch it. Should he visit Hampshire, he will give
lectures: they are worth hearing. Perhaps he will repeat the story of
the mother of St. Augustine. All that I recollect of it is, the mother,
weeping bitterly, spoke to some holy man respecting her son, whose
conduct gave her pain. He answered, “The child of a mother of so many
tears cannot be lost.” This child was afterwards St. Augustine. It is
very beautiful, “The child of a mother of so many tears cannot be lost!”
I gave Mr. Wolff two Hindoo idols, with which he was much pleased: he
interests himself in the Muhammadan religion, but is entirely ignorant
respecting the worship of the Hindoos.
THE NUT LOG.
_19th._—Yesterday, some wandering gypsies (Nut Log) came to the door;
they were a family of tumblers. Nut is the name of a tribe who are
generally jugglers, rope-dancers, &c. There was one girl amongst
them whose figure was most beautiful, and her attitudes more classic
and elegant than any I have ever beheld; Madame Sacci would hide her
diminished head before the supple and graceful attitudes of this Indian
girl.
A man placed a solid piece of wood, of the shape of an hour-glass, and
about eighteen inches in height, on his head; the girl ran up his back,
and, standing on one foot on the top of the wood, maintained her balance
in the most beautiful attitude, whilst the man ran round and round in a
small circle; she then sprang off his head to the ground. After this she
again ran up his back, and kneeling on the hour-glass-like wood on his
head, allowed him to run in the circle; then she balanced herself on the
small of her back, her hands and feet in the air! After that, she stood
on her head, her feet straight in the air, the man performing the circle
all the time! The drapery worn by the natives falls in the most beautiful
folds, and the girl was a fit subject for a statuary: I was delighted.
They placed a brass vessel, with dust in it, behind her back on the
ground, whilst she stood erect; she bent backwards, until her forehead
touched the dust in the vessel, and took up between her eyelids two bits
of iron, that looked like bodkins; the brass pan in which they were
laid was only about two inches high from the ground! She threw herself
into wonderful attitudes with a sword in her hand. A set of drawings,
illustrating all the graceful positions which she assumed would be very
interesting; I had never seen any thing of the kind before, and thought
of Wilhelm Meister. The Nut Log consisted of five women, one little
child, and one man, who performed all these extraordinary feats; another
man beat a tōm-tōm to keep time for them, and accompanied it with his
voice; the poor little child performed wonderfully well. She could not
have been more than six years old; the other girl was, I should suppose,
about eighteen years of age.
Another exhibition worth seeing is an Hindostanī juggler, with his goat,
two monkeys, and three bits of wood, like the wood used in England to
play the devil and two sticks. The first bit of wood is placed on the
ground, the goat ascends it, and balances herself on the top; the man by
degrees places another bit of wood on the upper edge of the former; the
goat ascends, and retains her balance; the third piece, in like manner,
is placed on the top of the former two pieces; the goat ascends from the
two former, a monkey is placed on her back, and she still preserves the
balance. I have seen this curious performance many times. The man keeps
time with a sort of musical instrument, which he holds in his right hand,
and sings a wild song to aid the goat; without the song and the measured
time, they say the goat could not perform the balance.
When I first came up the country, nothing excited my admiration more
than the sirrākee[104] grass in full flower, bending to the wind, and
recovering its position so elegantly. This magnificent grass is often
sixteen feet high, on which the bloom gracefully waves, like bending
feathers.
_May 1st._—“Notice was given in the supreme Court, that Messrs. Gould and
Campbell would pay a dividend, at the rate of nine gundahs, one cowrie,
one cawg, and eighteen teel, in every sicca rupee, on and after the first
of June.”
A curious dividend,—not quite a farthing in the rupee[105]!
_10th._—O! Western shore! on which I have passed so many happy days;
what would I not give for your breezes, to carry away this vile Indian
languor, and rebrace my nerves? In front of the thermantidote, and under
a pankhā, still there appears to be no air to breathe! This easterly
wind is killing; I have in general liked the hot winds, and have found
my health good during the time; but this heavy, unnatural atmosphere
overpowers me. I see a man crossing the parched and dusty compound, with
a lota (brass bowl) and a phleme in his hand, to bleed eleven gynees
(dwarf cows), and two horses,—all ill of infectious fever! I must return
to my book and my sofa, and dream away the hours.
Shall I ever see again those beautiful scenes which _I now see_? Shall
I ascend again that Mont Anvert, and look down upon the Mer-de-glace?
Twenty mosquitoes, of which I have just caught one, say, No; but I say,
Yes; and I hope once more to behold the lovely vistas in the New Forest,
and once again to muse by the sad sea waves on the Western shore.
_17th._—My ayha was decorated last night with ear-rings, made of freshly
gathered jasmine flowers, strung double on a wire, and hanging down to
her shoulders; the scent was so powerful, I could not endure it in the
room. Under her chādar they had a good effect; she wore the bela, the
double Arabian jasmine (jasminum sambac pleno; jasminum, from the Arabian
ysmyn).
The flowers are most overpoweringly sweet, pure white, and double.
Native women are extremely fond of decorating themselves with necklaces,
ear-rings, and bracelets, formed of freshly gathered flowers.
The champa is a flowering tree (michelia champaca), sweet-scented
michelia. From the bud of the champa flower is taken the pattern of the
champa-kullee necklaces the Indian women wear; kullee, a bud.
_21st._—We have had heavy storms, with hailstones of most surprising
magnitude; I wish the wind would change; the new moon has “the old moon
in her arms,” and if the wind change not now, we shall still have to
endure this dreadful weather. The garden is a cake of parched white
earth, all split and cracked.
What plagues these servants are! This morning, one of the cows being very
ill, I ordered a mixture for her; at sunset it had not been given to her,
because, to use the man’s own words, “he wished to send a man into the
district, to dig up a _certain sort of rat_, which rat, having been mixed
up with hot spices, he would give to the cow, and she would be well!”
Very provoking! the animal will die on account of not having had a
proper remedy administered in time. One has to fight against the climate
and the servants until one is weary of life.
_23rd._—Such a disaster in the quail-house! Through the negligence, or
rather stupidity, of the khānsāmān, 160 fat quail have been killed.
_June 1st._—The Muharram is over; I am glad of it, it unsettles all the
servants so much, and nothing is ever well done whilst they are thinking
of the Taziya.
_4th._—Last night we drove to the churchyard, to visit the tomb of one of
the most charming girls I ever met with, who had departed in her youth
and beauty’s prime: it was a melancholy visit.
One of the Fitzclarences died at Allahabad, and was buried here, without
any name or inscription on the tomb; within the last six months an
inscription has been put upon it, by order of Lord William Bentinck.
In the churchyard was a great number of plants of the mādār or ark,
(asclepias gigantea,) gigantic swallow-wort. Upon them we found the
most beautifully spotted creatures, like enamelled grasshoppers; they
appear partial to this plant, the ark; when alive, their spots are most
beautiful, in dying, all their brilliancy vanishes. I gathered a quantity
of the fine down from the pods of the mādār, and gave it to a gentleman
fond of experiments, who says he will weave it as a shawl is woven, and
see if it will answer.
_19th._—The air is so oppressive, it appears full of dust, so white, so
hot! the atmosphere is thick and dull,—no rain! This day last year a fine
storm refreshed the earth. The leaves are all falling off the trees,
dried up by the sun; numerous trees are dead, burnt up; not a blade of
grass! every thing so dusty! I wish the rains would come; this easterly
wind, with a thermometer at 91° at noon, is terrible! The pummelo-tree
presents a curious appearance; the whole of the leaves are parched, and
have fallen from the tree, leaving sixty fine green pummeloes hanging on
the naked branches!
The pummelo, called by the natives batavi-nemoo, is the citrus decumana,
_orange pampelmouse_, or shaddock; it was brought from the West Indies
by Capt. Shaddock, from whom it derives its name; the fruit grows to the
size of a child’s head, and is very delicious; it is a native of China
and Japan.
_25th._—Any thing like the severity of these hot winds we have never
experienced; the thermometer to-day 93°! Our khānsāmān, Suddu Khān, has
had a stroke of the sun; he went out about two miles and a half, to buy
grapes, which at this season are very fine and excellent; returning, he
fell down by the churchyard, and was conveyed home: it shows how the
natives feel the severity of the weather. Grapes, mangoes, mango-fool,
and iced-water are our luxuries. The fields of sugar-cane are all burnt
up, the cotton-plants dying for want of rain, and in the mango topes
(plantations) half the trees are destroyed.
A swarm of locusts have passed over the cantonments; the natives say they
foretel rain; would it were come! The people are dying daily, and the
Europeans also at Dinapore are carried off three and four a day.
THE GREAT GUN AT AGRA.
“The utmost offer that has yet been made for the metal of the great gun
is sixteen rupees per maund; it is proposed to put it up now for sale by
auction, at the Agra-Kotwallee, in the course of next month; the upset
price of the lots to be fourteen ānās per seer.
“The destruction of the Agra gun, our readers are aware, has, for some
time past, been entrusted to the executive engineer. As stated in the
last _Meerut Observer_, an attempt was made first to saw, and afterwards
it was intended to break it to pieces. In the mean time, it is lying,
like Robinson Crusoe’s boat, perfectly impracticable under the fort.
Though there is a tradition in the city of its weight being 1600 maunds,
it has not been found, on actual measurement, to contain more than 845
mds. 9s., which, at the rate of two lbs. to the seer, would be equal to
30 tons, 3 cwt. 2 qrs. 18 lbs. The analysis of the filings made by the
deputy Assay Master in Calcutta was, we understand, as follows:—
Copper. Tin.
1 29·7 7·3
2 92·2 7·8
3 88·3 11·7
----- ----
Mean 91·06 8·94
“The gun, from its size, is naturally regarded by the native population
as one of the lions of our city. Of the Hindoos, too, many are accustomed
to address their adorations to it, as they do, indeed, to all the arms
of war, as the _roop_ of Devee, the Indian Hecate. Beyond this, Hindoo
tradition has not invested the gun with any character of mythological
sanctity. The antiquaries of our city, indeed, say that it was brought
here by the Emperor Acbar, perhaps from the fortress of Chittore. We
have, however, ourselves been unable to find any mention of it in
_tawareek_ of that reign, or of any subsequent period. Among its other
just claims to be saved from the hands of the _Thatheras_, we must not
forget the fact of its having once fired a shot from Agra to Futtehpoor
Sicri, a distance of twenty-four miles. A stone ball now marks the spot
where it fell to the student in artillery practice, putting him entirely
out of conceit of the vaunted power of Queen Elizabeth’s pocket pistol,
which we believe can scarcely carry one-third of that distance. The
fellow of the Agra gun is stated to be still embedded in the sands of the
Jumna.
“Its destruction seems as unpopular with the natives as it is with the
European community. Its doom, however, being, we believe, sealed, we are
gratified to think that the proceeds of its sale are to be devoted to the
erection of a permanent bridge of boats over the Jumna at this city, the
estimate for which, the supposed value of the gun, with an advance of one
or two years’ ferry tolls, is expected to meet. The future surplus funds
derived from the bridge will probably, we hear, be expended in forming a
new branch road from Raj-ghaut to Mynpoory, to unite with the grand trunk
now making between Allahabad and Delhi, under Captain Drummond. We shall,
however, postpone till another opportunity our remarks on this and other
plans to improve the means of communication in this quarter.”—_Mofussil
Achbar_.
“At five o’clock on Wednesday morning, the Great Gun at this place was
burst, other means of breaking it up having proved unsuccessful. The
gun was buried about twenty feet deep in the ground, and 1000 lbs.
of gunpowder was employed for the explosion. The report was scarcely
heard, but the ground was considerably agitated, and a large quantity
of the earth was thrown on all sides. As far as we can learn, the chief
engineer has at length been completely successful. A large portion of
the European community and multitudes of natives were present to witness
the novel spectacle. The inhabitants of the city were so alarmed, that a
considerable portion abandoned their houses, and that part of the town in
the vicinity of the Fort was completely deserted.”—_Mofussil Achbar, June
29._
_July 18th._—Last night, as I was writing a long description of the
tēz-pāt, the leaf of the cinnamon-tree, which humbly pickles beef,
leaving the honour of crowning heroes to the _laurus nobilis_, the
servants set up a hue and cry that one of our sā’īses had been bitten
by a snake. I gave the man a tea-spoonful of eau-de-luce, which the
khānsāmān calls “Blue-dee-roo,” mixed with a little water. They had
confined the snake in a kedgeree-pot, out of which he jumped into the
midst of the servants; how they ran! The sā’īs is not the worse for the
fright, the snake not being a poisonous one; but he says the mem sāhiba
has burnt up his interior and blistered his mouth with the medicine.
I hope you admire the corruption of eau-de-luce—blue-dee-roo! Another
beautiful corruption of the wine-coolers is, soup-tureen for sauterne!
Here is a list of absurdities:—
Harrico, harry cook.
Parsley, peter selly.
Mignionette, major mint.
Bubble-and-squeak, dublin cook.
Decree, diggery.
Christmas, kiss miss.
Butcher, voucher.
Prisoner, bridgeman.
Champagne, simkin.
Trumpeter, jan peter.
Brigade major, bridget.
Knole cole, old kooby.
An officer in the 16th Lancers told me he was amused the other day by his
servant designating the trumpeter a “poh poh walla.”
The gardener has just brought in a handful of the most beautiful _scarlet
velvet_ coloured insects, about the size of two large peas, but flattish,
and commonly found on reddish sandy soil, near grass; these insects are
used as one of those medicines which native doctors consider efficacious
in snake bites: they call them beerbotie; the scientific name is _mutella
occidentalis_.
The carpenter, in cutting down the hedge of the garden, found in the
babūl and neem-trees such beautiful creatures; they appear to be locusts;
the variety and brilliancy of their colours are wonderful. The upper
wings are green, lined out with yellow, the under wings scarlet, the body
green, yellow, and black: they are most beautifully marked. I have had
some prepared with arsenical soap.
_Aug. 4th._—I have just received a present of the first number of
Colonel Luard’s most beautiful views in India; how true they are! his
snake-catchers are the very people themselves. Apropos, we caught a young
cobra yesterday in my dressing-room; the natives said, “Do not kill it;
it is forbidden to kill the snake with the holy mark on the back of its
head,”—a mark like a horse-shoe. However, as it was the most venomous
sort of snake, I put it quietly into my “Bottle of Horrors.” They say
snakes come in pairs; we have searched the room and cannot find its
companion. It is not pleasant to have so venomous a snake twisting on the
Venetian blinds of one’s dressing-room.
_8th._—Yesterday, at dinner, our friends were praising the fatted quail,
and remarking how well we had preserved them. This morning all the
remainder are dead, about two hundred; why or wherefore I know not—it is
provoking.
We had the most beautiful bouquet on the table last night! an enormous
bowl full of flowers, in such luxuriant beauty! some few of which you may
find in hot-houses and green-houses at home. With what pleasure I looked
at them! and how much amusement taking off the impressions, or practising
the _black art_, as we call it, will afford me!