FATHĪPOOR SICRI AND COLONEL GARDNER.
Pilgrimage of Akbar Shāh to Fathīpoor Sicri—Shaikh Selīm
Cheestie—The Jodh Baā’ī—Birth of Selim—The Tomb of the
Saint—The Gateway—A Tradition—The Temple of Magic—The
Zenāna—The Pachīsī Board—The Mint—Akbārābādee Rupees and Gold
Mohurs—The Elephant Minār—A Child destroyed by a Wolf—Tomb of
the Jodh Bā’ī—Agra built by Akbar—Sketches of remarkable Living
Characters in India—Legality of a Marriage between a Christian
and one of the Faithful—Colonel Gardner’s Letter—Letter
of Colonel Tod—Insult offered by Holkar—Colonel Gardner’s
Marriage—Tomb of Colonel Hessing—Cure of Influenza within the
Four Walls—Death in a Steam-Bath.
1835, _March_.—The wedding having been deferred for a short time, I took
the opportunity of returning dāk to Agra, having promised Colonel Gardner
to be at Khāsgunge again in time to witness the ceremony. All this time
my pretty pinnace had been awaiting my arrival. I determined to send
her back to Allahabad with the cook-boat, and she sailed immediately. I
also sent back the carriage and horses, keeping the buggy, Bokharu, the
grey and black horse, to accompany me to Khāsgunge. The dāk trip gave
me a severe cough and cold, and on my reaching Agra I was little fit
for exertion. However, a party was proposed to visit Fathīpoor Sicri,
formerly the residence of Akbar Shāh; my curiosity prevailed, and,
notwithstanding my illness, I consented to accompany them.
_11th._—Chār vajr, barī fajr, _i.e._ four o’clock A.M., I was ready
to start: the party of four dwindled to two, the others being laid up
with influenza, and unable to quit their beds. My relative, Mr. D⸺,
drove me over: tents and provisions had been sent on before. In spite
of my illness I was delighted with Fathīpoor Sicri. The gateway, with
its superb flight of steps, is a beautiful object; it is built on a
fine commanding site. The buildings, which are very extensive, are on
high ground; and from an immense quarry on the spot, they daily convey
quantities of stone to all parts of India. The Fort of Agra is built of
this stone.
Before I say more of the place, I must relate an anecdote of the founder.
Akbar Shāh was extremely unhappy and deeply grieved at being childless.
Hearing of the fame of a fakīr who lived at Fathīpoor Sicri, and of the
wonderful birth of a child to a couple of poor manufacturers of pottery
ware, who lived at that place, from the power of the prayers of the holy
man: hearing all this, he determined to make a pilgrimage to Fathīpoor;
_àpropos_, the house of the kumhār (potter) and his descendants are still
shown to visitors. Akbar commenced his hājī (pilgrimage), but, like all
the race of Timur, being rather lame, he found two miles a day (one kos)
as much as he could accomplish; therefore, at every day’s resting-place
he ordered a kos minār to be erected, which now serve as mile-stones. Two
of these minārs I saw between Agra and Secundra on my visit to his tomb,
as before-mentioned. On his arrival at Sicri, he consulted the holy man
Shāh Selīm Cheestie; and, in pursuance of his advice, the Empress, the
Jodh Bā’ī, was brought to live at Fathīpoor. She was the daughter of Oodi
Sing of Jodhpoor. Her zenāna, inclosed within four walls, is still to be
seen. The prayers of the holy man were heard, and the Jodh Bā’ī presented
Akbar with a son, who, in honour of _the saint, I suppose_, was called
Selīm, which name was afterwards almost forgotten in the appellation of
Jahāngeer, the Conqueror of the World. In the Fort of Agra there are
still the remains of the Selīm Ghar built by Akbar.
The Emperor, charmed at the birth of a son, bestowed lands and showered
rupees upon the sagacious fakīr; and the greatest ornament of the place
is,
THE TOMB OF SHAIKH SELĪM CHEESTIE.
This beautiful mausoleum, in the centre of the quadrangle, is still in a
state of the most perfect preservation; it is of white marble; the open
work of the screen is of the most exquisite workmanship. The descendants
of the shaikh still live at Sicri, and gain large sums by showing the
tomb of the holy man, whose name is held in the highest veneration.
The coffin, containing the mortal remains of the saint, is within the
building, and is covered with a large pall of silk and brocade. When
speaking of the Shaikh they continually denominated him Shāh Selīm
Cheestie. The annexed sketch will give an idea of the outline of the
tomb, and of the beauty of the fretwork of its walls of marble.
[Illustration: THE TOMB OF SHAIKH SELIM CHEESTIE.
فاني پارکس]
In 1570, Akbar founded Fathīpoor Sicri, the City of Victory. Colonel
Sleeman mentions, “The quadrangle which contains the mosque on the west
side, and the tomb of the old hermit in the centre, was completed in
the year 1578, six years before his death; and is, perhaps, one of the
finest in the world. It is five hundred and seventy-five feet square, and
surrounded by a high wall, with a magnificent cloister all around within.
On the outside is a magnificent gateway, at the top of a noble flight of
steps, twenty-four feet high. The whole gateway is one hundred and twenty
feet in height, and the same in breadth, and presents beyond the wall
five sides of an octagon, of which the front face is eighty feet wide:
the arch in the centre of this space is sixty feet high by forty wide. On
the right side of the entrance is engraven on stone, in large letters,
standing out in bas relief, the following passage in Arabic: ‘Jesus, on
whom be peace, has said, The world is merely a bridge; you are to pass
over it, and not to build your dwellings upon it.’
“Where this saying of Christ is to be found, I know not, nor has any
Muhammadan yet been able to tell me; but the quoting of such a passage
in such a place is a proof of the absence of all bigotry on the part of
Akbar.”
The mosque within the quadrangle was finished in 1576, and Akbar’s three
sons were born in the houses of the saint.
A very intelligent person, by name Bisharut Ali, who acted as cicerone,
was much pleased to show off the place, and relate his wonderful stories.
Amongst other traditions, he told me that, “in former times, Fathīpoor
Sicri was infested with wild beasts, and the people who came to see
the saint marvelled he was not afraid to live in such a wilderness;
the next day, they found a lion and a wolf at the holy man’s door; the
lion walking up and down and keeping guard, and the wolf brushing away
the dust and dirt before the habitation of the saint”—with his tail,
I suppose, for they say nothing of a broom. This Bisharut Ali is a
pensioner on three rupees eight ānās a month; his profile, and that of
Mulka Begam’s, who is a descendant of Akbar’s, were so much alike, that
I could not help asking him if he were of Selīm Cheestie’s family? He
replied, “No; my ancestor was the teacher (oostād) of the saint!”
There is much to visit at this place: the mosque, the numerous tombs, and
also a very curious building, in which the council of the nation was held.
The place that most interested my imagination was the Temple of Magic,
in which Akbar used to study. How much the Emperor, who was greatly
addicted to the art, must have been interested in casting the nativity
of the _sons of his pilgrimage_, and in the important task of selecting
fortunate names!
On the birth of the heir, the City of Victory must have resounded with
the roar of cannon, in honour of the happy event; even the poorest
Musulmān testifies his rejoicing on such an occasion by firing off a
matchlock; but should the offspring be a girl, the cannon is silent,
and no matchlocks are in requisition. There are five different modes of
naming children, two of which are as follow:—
Sometimes the infant obtains the name of some one of the family, as that
of the parent’s father, (it is not customary among Musulmāns to give
their own names to their children,) the grandfather, great-grandfather,
or the tutelary saint venerated in the family; hence the name of Selīm
was given to the first-born of the Emperor.
“Amongst some people it is customary to choose a name from among those
that begin with the same letter which is found at the commencement or
termination of the name of the planet in whose hour the child is born.
In order to ascertain this, it is requisite to consult the horoscope of
nativity[141].” The planets, seven in number,—namely, the Sun, Venus,
Mercury, the Moon, Saturn, Jupiter, and Mars, are supposed to preside
over the twenty-four hours of the day and night, and to exert many
favourable and unfavourable influences on the human race. With what
anxiety must the great magician Akbar have consulted the horoscope, to
ascertain under the reign of what particular planet his son was born!
With what care he must have cast his nativity, and thereby predicted his
future destiny!
The ladies of the zenāna were not only followers of the prophet, but
Rajpūtnees were admitted, Akbar considering it good policy to marry
the daughter of a subjugated Hindoo prince. Beauty, also, was and is
sufficient to give the possessor a chance of gaining the rank of Begam. I
went over the zenāna with much interest, and thought of the innumerable
ceremonies that must have been observed within its walls.
Particular rites take place on the fortieth day after the birth of a
child, which is esteemed an important festival; the mother is then
allowed to touch the kurān, and enter the masjid. In fancy, I beheld the
Jodh Bā’ī taken out into the air, with the “child of the pilgrimage” in
her arms, that she might count a few stars; after which, according to
Muhammadan custom, her attendants would shoot off two arrows into the air.
With what care the Emperor must have selected verses from the kurān, to
engrave in the Arabic character upon tablets, called tawīzī; destined to
adorn the person of the infant prince, and to guard him as a spell! These
tablets, which are of gold or silver, are strung on a long cord of gold
thread, and suspended over one shoulder of a child, crossing his body,
and hanging down on the other side below the hip.
The pachīsī-board gives one a glimpse of the manner in which the great
Akbar spent his time amongst his lady-loves; the pachīsī-board is in an
open court of the zenāna; the squares of the board are formed of coloured
marbles, and on so large a scale, that women were used as _counters_.
Imagine the great Akbar playing at pachīsī with eight cowries, and
sixteen ladies of the zenāna squatting down on the squares of the board
as counters! Jīta rako Akbar!
The game is played with eight cowries, or with three long narrow dice,
and so named from the highest throw, which is twenty-five. The shape of
the board is a cross, covered with squares, alternately of a different
colour. The natives have them made of red and purple cloth, which can be
folded up, and easily carried about; they are passionately fond of this
game, and play it at the Dewālī. The counters are sixteen in number, in
sets of four, each set of a different colour.
Adjoining the temple of the magician is the anannās-i-ghur, built in the
shape of a pine-apple (anannās), as the natives aver.
The taksāl (the mint) is at this place; in it rupees were first coined;
unlike the circular rupees of the present day, those coined by Akbar are
square; he also coined square gold mohurs, and eight ānā pieces of the
same form. The square rupee, if _without a blemish_, is reckoned of great
value; it is used in conjuring the truth out of thieves, who are much
afraid of it, and often confess the truth from a belief in its virtue.
If a rich native can obtain one of Akbar’s rupees, or, what is better, an
akbārābādee gold mohur, he puts it away with his hoard of riches, firmly
believing that by its virtue robbers will be prevented from discovering
his gold. There is an old saying, “To get possession of the wealth
without disturbing the snake that guards it[142].” The square rupee
appears to act chaukidār as well as the snake. An akbārābādee rupee and
an eight ānā piece were procured at Sicri, and added to my museum. The
mint has been dug up in every direction by treasure-hunters.
In the plate entitled “Superstitions of the Natives,” No. 5 represents
the rupee, and No. 4 the eight ānā piece; No. 7 is an akbārābādee gold
mohur, which I purchased at Allahabad. The manner in which these coins
are used for the detection of theft has been fully explained in the
“Trial by Rice,” page 40.
There is a remarkable entrance called the Elephant Gate, below which is
the Elephant Minār, to which we walked by moonlight; on the top of this
minār Akbar used to sit; game, of all descriptions, was driven towards
it from the surrounding country, which the Emperor from that spot could
shoot at his ease. “When death approaches the game, it goes towards the
sportsman[143].” This tower is studded with elephants’ tusks, carved in
white stone.
The people showed me the skin of a leopard that was shot a year ago
amongst the ruins. I requested my companion during this ramble to take a
stick, for fear of the wolves, who, the week before, had torn a native
child to pieces under the walls; the bones and bangles of the poor child
had been brought to my companion, who was the magistrate.
The tomb of the Jhod Bā’ī, who was a Rajpootnee daughter of the Hindoo
chief of Jhodpore, by tradition beautiful and amiable, is still to be
seen on the Chand-maree, the artillery practice ground, a few miles from
Fathīpoor Sicri. It was in ruins, but still you could trace its form
and dome. Some artillery officers, out of pure idleness and ignorance,
I suppose, about a year ago, blew up the dome of this tomb by way of
getting rid of some damaged powder! The sacrilege of destroying the tomb
of the mother of Jahāngeer, and the wife of Akbar Shāh!
The whole of the buildings at Sicri were built by Akbar; at this place he
resided, and held his court: it is most interesting to wander over the
ruins.
In the “Rambles of an Indian Official” it is mentioned,—“Sheikh Saleem
had, he declared, gone more than twenty times on pilgrimage to the tomb
of the holy prophet; and was not much pleased to have his repose so much
disturbed by all the noise and bustle of the imperial court. At last,
Akbar wanted to surround the hill by regular fortifications; and the
sheikh could stand it no longer. ‘Either you or I must leave this hill,’
said he to the Emperor; ‘if the efficacy of my prayers is no longer to be
relied upon, let me depart in peace!’ ‘If it be _your Majesty’s_ will,’
replied the Emperor, ‘that one of us should go, let it be your slave, I
pray.’ The old story: there is nothing like relying upon the efficacy of
our prayers, say the priests—nothing like relying upon that of our sharp
swords, say the soldiers; and as nations advance from barbarism, they
generally contrive to divide between them the surplus produce of the land
and labour of society. The old hermit consented to remain, and pointed
out Agra as a place which he thought would answer the Emperor’s purpose
extremely well! Agra—then an unpeopled waste—soon became a city, and
Futtehpore Sicri was deserted.”
The influenza having attacked our party, and my having fallen ill from
being drenched in a severe storm, on my return to Agra, which increased
the cough and cold from which I was suffering, prevented our prosecuting
the tour we had planned for visiting Deeg, Burtpore, and other remarkable
places.
_Extract from “the Asiatic Journal” of Oct. 1844._
“SKETCHES OF REMARKABLE LIVING CHARACTERS IN INDIA.”
No. 1.—COLONEL GARDNER.—THE BEGAM SUMROO.
“A few years ago India presented a wide field for adventure:
the distracted state of the country, the ambitious projects and
conflicting interests of native princes, were highly favourable
circumstances to those who brought with them a competent
knowledge of the art of war, and of military discipline;
and who preferred a wild, erratic, roving life, amongst the
children of the soil, to the regular service of the India
Company. There are two individuals still living in the Bengal
Presidency, and occupying a distinguished, though singular
position in society, whose eventful career, if circumstantially
related, could not fail to prove highly interesting. The
general outlines of the history of the Begam Sumroo, and of
Colonel Gardner, of Khāsgunge, are known to every person who
has visited the theatre of their exploits, but very few are
acquainted with the details; for such is the shifting nature
of Anglo-Indian society, that it is impossible to gain more
than the passing information of the day, in places rendered
memorable from circumstances of universal notoriety, but of
which nobody can give the particulars.
“Some apology ought, perhaps, to be made for associating the
name of so gallant and highly respected an officer as Colonel
Gardner with that of the Begam, and her still more worthless
husband; but as those readers of the ‘Asiatic Journal,’ who
have not been in India, are puzzled by the announcement of
marriages, or projected marriages, of the daughters of this
gentleman with the nephews of the King of Delhi, an explanation
of the circumstances which have produced these apparently
extraordinary alliances will doubtless prove acceptable. The
writer of these pages does not pretend to know more of Colonel
Gardner than the tongue of rumour could tell, or a casual
meeting in society could afford; but so remarkable a person
naturally made a strong impression, and the anecdotes extant
concerning him were too singular to be easily forgotten.
Colonel Gardner’s tall, commanding figure, soldier-like
countenance, and military air, render his appearance very
striking. When at his own residence, and associating with
natives, it is said that he adopts the Asiatic costume; but
while visiting a large military station, in company with the
Resident of Lucnow, he wore a blue surtout, resembling the
undress uniform of the British army, but profusely ornamented
with silk lace.
“Colonel Gardner, who is a connexion of the noble family
bearing that name, came out to India in the King’s service,
which he soon afterwards quitted; the cause of his resignation
is variously related; in the absence of an authentic account,
it would, perhaps, be wrong to give sanction to any one of
the reports afloat concerning it. At this period, it was
impossible to foresee that the tide of fortune would bring
the British Government of India into actual warfare with the
sovereigns of provinces so far beyond the frontier, that human
ambition dared not contemplate their subjugation. Many loyal
men were, therefore, induced to follow the banners of native
princes, under the expectation that they never could be called
upon to bear arms against their own country; but fate decreed
it otherwise, and, in the Mahratta war, those officers who
had enlisted in Holkar’s service, found themselves in a very
awkward predicament; especially, as they were not permitted a
choice, or even allowed to remain neutral, their new masters
endeavouring to force them, upon pain of death, to commit
treason to the land of their birth by fighting in the ranks of
a hostile force.
“In some of the native courts, the English were immediately
put to death upon the approach of the enemy, or on the
slightest suspicion of their fidelity. Upon more than one
occasion, Colonel Gardner, who, independent of his military
skill, possessed a thorough knowledge of the native character,
and very considerable talent, penetrated the designs of his
employers, and withdrew in time from meditated treachery; but
his escape from Holkar was of the most hazardous description,
not inferior in picturesque incident and personal jeopardy
to that of the renowned Dugald Dalgetty, who was not more
successful in all lawful strategy than the subject of this too
brief memoir. Anxious to secure the services of so efficient
an officer, after all fair means had failed, Holkar tied
his prisoner to a gun, and threatened him with immediate
destruction, should he persist in refusing to take the field
with his army. The Colonel remained staunch, and, perhaps in
the hope of tiring him out, the execution was suspended, and
he was placed under a guard, who had orders never to quit
him for a single instant. Walking one day along the edge of
a bank, leading by a precipitous descent to a river, Colonel
Gardner suddenly determined to make a bold effort to escape,
and perceiving a place fitted to his purpose, he shouted out
‘Bismillah!’ (‘in the name of God,’) and flung himself down
an abyss some forty or fifty feet deep. None were inclined to
follow him; but the guns were fired and an alarm sounded in
the town. He recovered his feet, and, making for the river,
plunged into it. After swimming for some distance, finding that
his pursuers gained upon him, he took shelter in a friendly
covert, and, with merely his mouth above the water, waited
until they had passed; he then landed on the opposite side, and
proceeded by unfrequented paths to a town in the neighbourhood,
which was under the command of a friend, who, though a
native, and a servant of Holkar, he thought would afford him
protection. This man proved trustworthy; and, after remaining
concealed some time, the Colonel ventured out in the disguise
of a grass-cutter, and reaching the British outposts in safety,
was joyously received by his countrymen. He was appointed to
the command of a regiment of irregular horse, which he still
retains; and his services in the field, at the head of these
brave soldiers, have not been more advantageous to the British
Government than the accurate acquaintance before-mentioned,
which his long and intimate association with natives enabled
him to obtain of the Asiatic character. It was to his
diplomatic skill and knowledge of the best methods of treaty,
that we owed the capitulation of one of those formidable
hill-fortresses (Komalmair in Mewar), whose reduction by
arms would have been at the expense of an immense sacrifice
of human life. The Commandant of the division despatched to
take possession of it, wearied out by the procrastinating and
indecisive spirit of the natives, would have stormed the place
at every disadvantage, had not Colonel Gardner persuaded him
to entrust the negotiation to his hands. The result proved
that he made a just estimate of his own powers: the garrison
agreed to give up the Fortress on the payment of their arrears;
and Colonel Tod, in his ‘Annals of Rajast’han,’ mentions
the circumstance as one highly honourable to the British
character, that, there not being more than four thousand rupees
at the time in the English camp, an order, written by the
Commandant for the remainder, upon the shroffs or bankers in
the neighbourhood, was taken without the least hesitation, the
natives not having the slightest doubt that it would be paid
upon presentation.
“The marriage of Colonel Gardner forms one of the most singular
incidents in his romantic story.
“In the midst of his hazardous career, he carried off a
Mahomedān princess, the sister of one of the lesser potentates
of the Deccan, who, though now reduced to comparative
insignificance, during the rise and progress of the Mahrattas,
were personages of considerable consequence.
‘Ever the first to climb a tower,
As venturous in a lady’s bower,’
the sacred recesses of the zenāna were penetrated by the
enterprising lover, who, at the moment in which his life was
threatened by the brother’s treachery, bore away his prize in
triumph, and sought an asylum in another court. A European,
of popular manners and military experience, could in those
days easily place himself at the head of a formidable body of
soldiers, ready to follow his fortunes, and trusting to his
arrangements with the princes, whose cause he supported, for
their pay, which was frequently in arrear, or dependent upon
the capture of some rich province. In the command of such a
troop Colonel Gardner was a welcome guest wherever he went;
and, until the affair with Holkar, he had always contrived to
secure his retreat whenever it was prudent to commence a new
career in another quarter.
“It is difficult to say what sort of bridal contract is gone
through between a Moslem beauty and a Christian gentleman,
but the ceremony is supposed to be binding; at least it is
considered so in India, a native female not losing the respect
of her associates by forming such a connexion. The marriage
of Colonel Gardner seems perfectly satisfactory to the people
of Hindostān; for the lady has not only continued stedfast to
the Mahomedan faith, and in the strict observance of all the
restrictions prescribed to Asiatic females of rank, but has
brought up her daughters in the same religious persuasion, and
in the same profound seclusion,—points seldom conceded by a
European father. They are, therefore, eligible to match with
the princes of the land, their mother’s family connexions and
high descent atoning for the disadvantage of foreign ancestry
upon the paternal side. Educated according to the most approved
fashion of an Oriental court, they are destined to spend the
remainder of their lives in the zenāna; and this choice for
her daughters shows, that their mother, at least, does not
consider exclusion from the world, in which European women
reign and revel, to be any hardship.
“So little of the spirit of adventure is now stirring in
India, that the Misses Gardner, or the young begams, or
whatsoever appellation it may be most proper to designate
them by, have not attracted the attention of the European
community. Doubtless, their beauty and accomplishments are
blazoned in native society; but, excepting upon the occasion
of an announcement like that referred to in the Calcutta
periodicals, the existence of these ladies is scarcely known to
their father’s countrymen residing in India. We are ignorant
whether their complexions partake most of the eastern or the
northern hue, or whether they have the slightest idea of the
privileges, from which their mother’s adherence to Mahomedan
usages has debarred them. Their situation, singular as it
may appear in England, excites little or no interest; nobody
seems to lament that they were not brought up in the Christian
religion, or permitted those advantages which the half-caste
offspring of women of lower rank enjoy: and, acquainted with
the circumstances of the case, the Editors of the aforesaid
periodicals do not enter into any explanation of intelligence
of the most startling nature to English readers, who, in their
ignorance of facts, are apt to fancy that European ladies in
India are willing to enter into the zenānas of native princes.
“Colonel Gardner has, of course, adopted many of the opinions
and ideas of the people with whom he has passed so great a
portion of his time, and in his mode of living he may be termed
half an Asiatic; this, however, does not prevent him from being
a most acceptable companion to the European residents, who
take the greatest delight in his society whenever he appears
among them. His autobiography would be a work of the highest
value, affording a picture of Indian manners and Indian policy,
with which few besides himself have ever had an opportunity
of becoming so intimately acquainted. As he is still in the
prime and vigour of existence, we may hope that some such
employment of these piping times of peace may be suggested
to him, and that he may be induced to devote the hours spent
in retirement at Khāsgunge, to the writing or the dictation
of the incidents of his early life. In looking back upon past
events, the Colonel occasionally expresses a regret that he
should have been induced to quit the king’s service, in which,
in all probability, he would have attained the highest rank;
but, eminently qualified for the situation in which he has been
placed, and more than reconciled to the destiny which binds him
to a foreign soil, the station he occupies leaves him little to
desire; and he has it in his power to be still farther useful
to society by unlocking the stores of a mind fraught with
information of the highest interest.”
1835, _March 5th._—Two letters having appeared in the “Mofussul Akhbar,”
a provincial paper, Colonel Gardner published this answer:—
“_To the Editor of the_ Mofussul Akhbar.
“DEAR SIR,—In your paper of the 28th ultimo, just received, I
find I have been unwillingly dragged from my obscurity by the
author of ‘Sketches of Living Remarkable Characters in India.’
This I should not have noticed, but for a mistake or two that
it is my duty to correct. In the first place, it was Colonel
Casement who ordered me, and instructed me in his name, to
attempt the negotiation for the surrender of the garrison of
Komalmair. I obeyed his order successfully, only demurring at
the sum demanded, 30,000 rupees, which, for so weak a garrison,
I considered extravagant: but the resident Colonel Tod arrived
at this stage of the business with superior diplomatic power.
Colonel Casement was no longer consulted, and my poor rushlight
was hidden under a bushel. But who can feel any thing against
the author of such a splendid and correct work as ‘Rajustan?’
The writer of the extract has probably mistaken Komalmair for
the Fort of Rampoora,—where, under the instructions of Colonel
Vauzemen, the negotiation for the evacuation was entirely
entrusted to me; and, for the sum of 7000 rupees, a siege was
prevented at a very advanced season of the year, when, as
General Ouchterlony wrote to me, he would otherwise have been
obliged to order the battering-train from Agra.
“When I made my escape, as detailed, by swimming the Taptee,
it was from the tender mercies of the gentle Brahman, our
late pensioner Emurt Row’s force, by whom I was then in close
confinement, and not from Holkar.
“I fear I must divest my marriage with her highness the Begam
of a great part of its romantic attraction, by confessing
that the young Begam was only thirteen years of age when I
first applied for and received her mother’s consent; and
which marriage probably saved both their lives. Allow me to
assure you, on the _very best authority_, that a Moslem lady’s
marriage with a Christian, by a Cazee, is as legal in this
country as if the ceremony had been performed by the Bishop
of Calcutta; a point lately settled by my son’s marriage with
the niece of the Emperor, the Nuwab Mulka Humanee Begam; and
that the respectability of the females of my family amongst the
natives of Hindostān has been settled by the Emperor many years
ago, he having adopted my wife as his daughter; a ceremony
satisfactorily repeated by the Queen, on a visit to my own
house in Delhi. I can assure my partial sketcher, that my only
daughter died in 1804, and that my grand-daughters, by the
particular desire of their grandmother, are Christians. It was
an act of her own, as by the marriage agreement, the daughters
were to be brought up in the religion of the mother; the sons
in that of your
“Very obedient, humble servant,
“W. L. G⸺.”
“Khasgunge, 5th March, 1835.”
Colonel Tod, in a letter to the editor of “the Asiatic Journal,” thus
speaks of Colonel Gardner:—“A day or two previous to this number (of your
journal) being lent me, an intimate friend of Colonel Gardner’s spent
the evening with me; and as it is almost impossible that any two men,
at all acquainted with his diversified life, could talk of him without
expressing a wish that he would become his own biographer,—the subject
being started, we mutually agreed, that, qualified in every way as he
is for the task, the result would be both interesting and instructive.
Amongst other remarks, I observed that, although he was well known to
me by character, and I had to bear testimony to the brave conduct of a
part of his corps, attached to me in 1817; the only time I ever had the
pleasure of seeing him was the day following the surrender of Komulmér,
when he dined with me.
“I trust your correspondent will proceed with ‘the sketches,’ and that
the outline he has now furnished of Colonel Gardner’s history may
stimulate the original to give, what no other can, his biography in
full. Colonel Gardner is one of the many remarkable men, who have passed
a most extraordinary life, floating, as circumstance or ‘_nuseeb_’
propelled, amidst the chaotic elements of Indian society, during the
half-century preceding the halcyon days of 1818; when, by the vigorous
mind and measures of the Marquess of Hastings, peace, for the first time
in its history, reigned from the Himalaya to Cape Comorin. _Aristides was
banished Athens!_”
I greatly wished Colonel Gardner would consent to tell me the history
of his remarkable life, which I was anxious to write down from his
dictation. One evening he said, “Merā Betee, (my child) when in Holkar’s
service, I was employed as an envoy to the Company’s forces, under Lord
Lake, with instructions to return within a certain time; my family
remained in camp. Suspicion of treachery was caused by my lengthened
absence, and accusations were brought forward against me at the Darbār,
held by Holkar on the third day following that on which my presence was
expected. I rejoined the camp while the darbār was still assembled; on
my entrance, the Mahārāj, in an angry tone, demanded the reason of the
delay; which I gave, pointing out the impossibility of a speedier return.
Holkar exclaimed, in great anger, ‘Had you not returned this day, I would
have levelled the khanats of your tents.’ I drew my sword instantly, and
attempted to cut his highness down, but was prevented by those around
him; and ere they had recovered from the amazement and confusion caused
by the attempt, I rushed from the tent, sprang upon my horse, and was
soon beyond reach of the pursuers.”
To account for Colonel Gardner’s indignation, it must be remembered, that
the kanāts are walls of canvas, that surround the tents of the ladies of
the zenāna; to have thrown down those screens, and to have exposed women
within parda to the gaze of men, would have been an insult for which
there could be no atonement. Colonel Gardner’s high spirit was as prompt
to avenge the threat as it would have been willing to take the life of
Holkar, had he intruded on the privacy of the Begam’s apartments.
Through the influence of friends, the Princess and her family were
allowed, unmolested, to quit Holkar’s dominions, and rejoin her husband.
The account Colonel Gardner gave me of his marriage with the Begam was
this:—
“When a young man, I was entrusted to negotiate a treaty with one of the
native princes of Cambay. Darbārs and consultations were continually
held; during one of the former, at which I was present, a parda (native
curtain) near me was gently moved aside, and I saw, as I thought, the
most beautiful black eyes in the world. It was impossible to think of the
treaty; those bright and piercing glances, those beautiful dark eyes,
completely bewildered me.
“I felt flattered that a creature so lovely as she of those deep black,
loving eyes must be, should venture to gaze upon me; to what danger might
not the veiled beauty be exposed, should the movement of the parda be
seen by any of those at the darbār! On quitting the assembly I discovered
that the bright-eyed beauty was the daughter of the Prince. At the next
darbār, my agitation and anxiety were extreme again to behold the bright
eyes that had haunted my dreams by night, and my thoughts by day! The
parda again was gently moved, and my fate was decided.
“I demanded the Princess in marriage; her relations were at first
indignant, and positively refused my proposal; however, on mature
deliberation, the ambassador was considered too influential a person to
have a request denied, and the hand of the young Princess was promised.
The preparations for the marriage were carried forward; ‘Remember,’ said
I, ‘it will be useless to attempt to deceive me; I shall know those eyes
again, nor will I marry any other.’
“On the day of the marriage I raised the veil from the countenance of the
bride, and in the mirror that was placed between us beheld the bright
eyes that had bewildered me; I smiled,—the young Begam smiled also.”
Such was Colonel Gardner’s account of the first time he beheld his bride.
Well might she smile when she gazed upon that noble countenance!
THE TOMB OF COLONEL HESSING.
_15th._—This beautiful Mausoleum is in the Catholic burial ground at
Agra, and is well worthy a visit. It was built by a native architect, by
name Luteef, in imitation of the ancient Muhammadan tombs. The material
is the red stone from Fathīpoor Sicri, which is highly carved, but not
inlaid. The tomb is beautiful, very beautiful, and in excellent taste.
Its cost is estimated at about one lākh of rupees. Luteef’s drawings
of the Tāj and of all the ancient monuments around Agra are excellent;
they cost from three to forty rupees each. I bought a large collection
of them, as well as of marbles and other curiosities. Luteef inlays
marble with precious stones, after the style of the work in the Tāj. A
chess-table of this sort, with a border of flowers in mosaic, costs from
eight to twelve hundred rupees, £80, or £120, and is beautifully executed.
_16th._—My affairs at Agra having come to a conclusion, and the pinnace,
carriage, and horses being on their way home, I once more turned my steps
to Khāsgunge, and arrived there dāk, accompanied by a friend, who was
extremely anxious to see the marriage ceremony, although all that the eye
of a man is permitted to behold is the tamāshā that takes place without
the four walls. All that passes within is sacred.
On my arrival the whole party at Khāsgunge were going out to tents by the
Ganges to hunt wild boars and otters; to shoot crocodiles, floriken,
black partridge, and other game. Even for people in good health it was,
at that season of the year, a mad expedition, and I declined going; I
longed indeed to accompany them, but my cold and cough were so severe I
was forced to give up the idea.
_18th._—My dear Colonel Gardner, seeing how ill I was, said, “You will
never recover, my child, in the outer house; I will give you a room in
the inner one, and put you under the care of the begam; there you will
soon recover.” He took me over to the zenāna; the begam received me very
kindly, and appointed four of her slaves to attend upon me, and aid my
own women. They put me immediately into a steam-bath, shampooed, mulled,
and half-boiled me; cracked every joint after the most approved fashion,
took me out, laid me on a golden-footed bed, gave me sherbet to drink,
shampooed me to sleep, and by the time the shooting party returned from
the Gunga, I had perfectly recovered, and was able to enter into all the
amusement of seeing a Hindostanee wedding.
I must here anticipate, and remark that Suddu Khan, our excellent little
khānsāmān, died in June, 1841. He had been ill and unable to attend for
months. There is a story, that being in an hummām, he received some
injury in the spine while being shampooed and joint-cracked by a barber,
who placed his knee to his back, and then forcibly brought his two arms
backwards. The story says poor Suddu fainted, and the barber was so much
alarmed, he fled, and has never been seen since at Cawnpore, where the
scene took place.