It is some years since I first landed in Calcutta. I was in no way
connected with the Government, and was consequently an "interloper"
or "adventurer." These were the terms applied by certain officials to
European merchants, indigo-planters, shopkeepers, artisans, barristers,
attorneys, and others.
It was not long before I made up my mind to become a wanderer in the
East. I had no occupation, was my own master, and had a large tract of
country to roam about in. My first step was to acquire a knowledge of
Hindostanee and of Persian. By dint of hard study, at the end of six
months I found myself capable, not only of holding a conversation, but
of arguing a point in either of these languages: and with a light heart
I took my departure from the City of Palaces, and proceeded to Monghyr,
on the Ganges.
The chief civilian of that district had invited me to spend a month
with him. Every day I accompanied my friend to his court, and thereby
got some insight into the administration of justice in India, both
civil and criminal. Here, too, I first made acquaintance with Thugs.
Several most notorious characters of that tribe were at Monghyr--not
imprisoned, but permitted to move about. They had been pardoned on
condition that they would become informers, and, to a certain extent,
detectives, in the suppression of Thuggee in the British dominions.
It was a curious feeling to be in conversation with men who had each
committed his ninety or a hundred murders--to see the fingers that
had strangled so many victims--to watch the process, for they were
good-natured enough to act it. There was the unsuspecting traveller
with his bundle; the decoy Thug, who engaged him in conversation; the
two men, who, at the given signal, were to seize; the executioner,
standing behind with the handkerchief, ready to strangle the victim.
They even went through the operation of searching the "deceased,"
upon whom they found nothing in this case; but they assured me this
frequently happened in reality. The reader is of course aware that it
is a part of the Thug's religion not to rob a live body. The crime of
murder must precede that of theft. The play--the tragedy--over (to
these domesticated demons it was a mere farce), they laughed at the
solemn expression which, I doubt not, was stamped upon my features.
These Thugs were permitted to have their families at Monghyr; and
one morning when I strolled down to their camp, an old man made five
children, the eldest boy not more than eight years old, go through
the business of strangling and robbing a victim. In one respect these
urchins outdid their progenitors in the acting. They not only went
through the ceremony of searching the dead body, but, that done, they
dragged it by the legs to a well, and, in dumb show, threw it down, and
then uttered a prayer to Heaven.
"Was that good?" said one of the children, running up to me for
applause and a reward. I scarcely knew what to reply. Before I had time
to give any answer, the child's father said, "No; it was not good.
You used the handkerchief before the signal was given. Go through it
again, and remember, this time, that you must have patience." The boys
began again, much in the same spirit that an actor and actress would
go through the strangling scene in "Othello," to please a fastidious
manager.
Approaching a very interesting-looking woman, of about two-and-twenty
years of age, I said to her, "What do you think of this?"
She replied in a proverb: "The mango always falls beneath the shade of
the parent tree."
"But the crime?" said I. "What think you of that?"
She looked up with as lovely a pair of eyes as ever saw the light,
smiled, and responded:
"Heaven will hold us all, Sahib!"
I was about to reason with her, but her husband, with an expression of
pride, interfered, and informed me that she had taken eighteen lives.
"Twenty-one!" she exclaimed.
"Eighteen only!" said he.
"Twenty-one!" she persisted, and ran them over counting on her fingers
the places and the dates when the murders were committed. Her husband
then admitted that she was in the right, and, turning to me, remarked:
"She is a very clever woman, Sahib."
"Were your victims men or women?" I said to her.
"All women," she answered me. "Some old and some young."
I was tempted to ask her to show me how it was done; and after
considerable coaxing she complied with my wishes. To my surprise
she was the only actor in the scene, except the victim, with whom
she went through the process of strangling with a piece of cord.
The victim, another Thuggess, was supposed to be sleeping when the
operation was performed, and I could not help admiring--horrible as
the sight was--the accuracy with which she performed the throes and
agony of death. To borrow an idea from Junius, "None but those who had
frequently witnessed such awful moments could describe them so well."
At the house of my Monghyr friend I met a French gentleman, an
indigo-planter of Tirhoot, in Behar. He invited me to pay him a visit,
and to accompany him in his boat. He was about to sail on the following
day. I say "sail," for at that time (the month of August), the country
was inundated, and it would have been impossible to travel by land.
I accepted the invitation, and we sailed from Monghyr to Hajeepore
without going near the Ganges for several days.
Monsieur Bardon, the French planter, was one of the most accomplished
and agreeable men I had ever met, and in truth one of the greatest
characters. The hospitality of the Tirhoot planters is proverbial in
India, and I believe I might have lived in that Garden of the East, as
it is called, from that day to this, as a welcome guest of the various
planters, if I had chosen still to be their guest. As it was, I was
eight months in the district, and then had very great difficulty in
getting away. A now celebrated officer, at that time commanding the
Irregular Cavalry at Segowlie, induced me to visit him; and after
leaving his abode, I went to the Bettiah Rajah, who initiated me into
the mysteries of tiger-shooting. It was in the dominions of this small
chief that my hands and face were so browned that I became far less
fair than many natives of the country. Before leaving Tirhoot, however,
I paid a visit to Rooder Singh, the Rajah of Durbungah, the richest
native perhaps in all India. He has two hundred thousand pounds a year
net revenue; and in a tank in his palace there is lying, in gold and
silver, upwards of a million and a half sterling. Chutter Singh, the
father of the Rajah of Durbungah, was a firm friend of the British
Government during the Nepal war. He raised a regiment of horse and
provisioned it. When asked by the authorities for his bill, he replied
that the Government owed him nothing.
After leaving the Bettiah Rajah, I proceeded to Lucknow, where I
improved myself greatly in Hindostanee. In this city, and in Delhi,
the purest is spoken. At Lucknow I made the acquaintance of Ally Nucky
Khan (the prime minister of the King of Oude, who is now imprisoned in
Fort William), of Wuzy Ally Khan (a celebrity of Oude, who is since
dead), and of Rugburdiall, the eldest son of the late Shah Beharee
Lall, one of the richest bankers in India. Shah Beharee Lall is said to
have died worth seven millions in cash; but I have reason to believe
that three millions sterling was the utmost that he died possessed of.
Rugburdiall held the office of treasurer to the King of Oude. Ally
Nucky Khan gave me the idea of a man of small mental capacity, but of
immense cunning and inordinate vanity. The late Mr. Beechy, the King of
Oude's portrait-painter, must have taken at least a score of likenesses
of Ally Nucky, who, to say the truth, is a remarkably good-looking
personage. Wuzy Ally Khan was a tall and handsome man of about
five-and-forty. His manners were refined, his address charming, and his
bearing altogether that of a well-bred gentleman. Of his talents there
could be no question; and he was, moreover, a learned and well-informed
man. There could be no doubt that Wuzy Ally Khan, in point of fact,
ruled the kingdom. The conversational powers of this man were immense,
and he was both witty and humorous. A more agreeable companion it
would be difficult to meet with in any country. When I first made his
acquaintance, he was in great favour with the then resident at the
court of Oude; but, on the appointment of Colonel Sleeman, he fell
into disrepute with the British officials and continued so up to the
time of his death, which occurred about two years ago. I was five
months in Oude, and, during that period, spoke nothing but Hindostanee
or Persian. I made a point of avoiding my own countrymen, and of
associating only with the natives of India.
Previous to leaving Lucknow, a letter was despatched to Nena Sahib,
informing him that a gentleman of distinction, a most intimate friend
of the Governor-General, and related by birth or marriage to every
member of the council in Calcutta, as well as a constant guest of the
Queen of England, was travelling through Hindostan in disguise, and
would most probably, by his presence, illumine the abode of Maharajah
Bahadoor, and it was hoped that every respect would be paid to the
dignity of the Sahib's exalted position, &c., &c. When the draft of
this epistle was read aloud by the moonshee, who had written it from
dictation, I expostulated, on the ground that the contents were not
in accordance with the truth. My scruples, however, were eventually
overcome, and I took leave of my Lucknow friends, after being provided
with all that I should require on my journey (of about forty-five
miles), and an escort of fifteen sowars (horsemen); for the road, at
that time, between Lucknow and Cawnpore, was infested by robbers. About
a mile from Bhitoor my palkee was placed upon the ground. I was asleep,
but awoke, and inquired, "Kia hua?" (What is the matter?)
I was informed by the bearers of my palkee that the Maharajah Peishwa
Bahadoor had sent out an escort in honour of my approach, and presently
there appeared at the door of my palkee a soldier-like looking Hindoo,
who made me a very respectful salaam. The escort consisted of eight
foot-soldiers with drawn swords, and four sowars. The former, running
by the side of my palkee, encouraged the bearers to make haste; while
the latter caused their horses to curvet and prance, and thus kick up
a frightful dust. At the abode of the Maharajah Bahadoor, I was met by
several of his musahibs (courtiers), who were exceedingly polite, and
conducted me to a suite of apartments which had apparently been made
ready for my reception; and so far as servants were concerned, I was
literally surrounded. A sirdar bearer (personal attendant, or Indian
valet) took charge of my two boxes which contained my wearing apparel.
A khansamah (butler), followed by three khidmutghars (table servants),
asked me if I would take some iced water, and in the same breath
informed me that every kind of European drink was at hand. Brandy, gin,
champagne, claret, sherry, port, beer, cherry-brandy, and soda-water.
And what would I take for dinner? Whatever the Sahib's heart might
desire, was in readiness. Turkey? goose? duck? fowl? beefsteak?
mutton-chop? ham and eggs? And here the khansamah (a venerable
Mussulman) informed me, sotto voce, that the Maharajah was constantly
in the habit of entertaining European gentlemen; and that, although
his highness was himself a strict Hindoo, he had no kind of prejudice,
so that if I preferred beef to any other kind of meat, I had only to
give the order. I assured the khansamah that since my arrival in India,
I had never tasted beef, or hog's flesh, and that if he would have
prepared for me, as speedily as possible, some rice and vegetables, I
should be quite satisfied. With a profound salaam the khansamah took
his departure, followed by the khidmutghars. The sirdar bearers, and
four other men, then approached me reverentially, and begged to conduct
me to my sleeping apartment and the bathing-rooms.
There is something peculiarly quaint about the arrangement of European
furniture in the house of a native gentleman. In the house of an
European, the servants are, of course, taught how to arrange tables,
chairs, and beds, according to European ideas; but it is otherwise with
the servants of a rajah, or native gentleman. The consequence is that
in the dining, or drawing-room, you will find a wash-hand stand, and a
chest of drawers, and a toilet-table, while in the bed-room you will,
perhaps, discover an old piano, an organ, a card-table, or cheffonier.
The furniture has, for the most part, been purchased at various sales,
and has belonged to officers of all grades, civil and military. There
are the tent-table and the camp-stool of the dead ensign, in the same
room with the marble-topped table and crimson damask covered easy chair
of some luxurious judge. On the mantelpiece you will find a costly
clock of the most elegant design and workmanship, and on each side
of it, a pair of japan candlesticks, not worth half-a-crown. In this
way are arranged the pictures on the walls. Immediately underneath
a proof print of Landseer's "Bolton Abbey," or "Hawking," you will
observe a sixpenny coloured print of the Duke of Wellington or Napoleon
Bonaparte. The pictures, also, have been bought indiscriminately
at various sales, and have been as indiscriminately suspended on
the walls. There are the print-shop ballet girls intermingled with
engravings of the most serious character. Fores's sporting collection
with the most classical subjects. Foot-stools, musical-boxes, and
elegantly bound books, writing-desks, work-boxes, plated dishes,
sugar-basins, and teapots, are arranged in the most grotesque fashion
imaginable. Upon an elegant mahogany sideboard you will find decanters
and glasses of every description and quality. Upon another sideboard,
in the drawing-room, you will find a variety of dinner-services, and
earthen fragments thereof, all mixed. There was but one set of rooms
at Bhitoor for the reception of "Sahib logue," and this was the set
that I then occupied.
I had scarcely made myself comfortable, when the khansamah informed me
that dinner was on the table. This was welcome intelligence, for I had
not tasted food since morning, and it was half-past five P.M. I sat
down to a table twenty feet long (it had originally been the mess table
of a cavalry regiment), which was covered with a damask table-cloth
of European manufacture, but instead of a dinner-napkin there was a
bed-room towel. The soup--for he had everything ready--was served up
in a trifle-dish which had formed part of a dessert service belonging
to the 9th Lancers--at all events, the arms of that regiment were upon
it; but the plate into which I ladled it with a broken tea-cup, was of
the old willow pattern. The pilao which followed the soup, was served
upon a huge plated dish, but the plate from which I ate it, was of the
very commonest description. The knife was a bone-handled affair; the
spoon and the fork were of silver, and of Calcutta make. The plated
side-dishes, containing vegetables, were odd ones; one was round, the
other oval. The pudding was brought in upon a soup-plate of blue and
gold pattern, and the cheese was placed before me on a glass dish
belonging to a dessert service. The cool claret I drank out of a richly
cut champagne glass, and the beer out of an American tumbler, of the
very worst quality.
I had not yet seen "the Maharajah." It was not until past eight that
a moonshee came and inquired if I would have an interview with his
highness. I replied that it would give me great joy, and was forthwith
conducted through numerous narrow and gloomy passages to an apartment
at the corner of the building. Here sat the Maharajah on a Turkey
carpet, and reclining slightly on a huge bolster. In front of him were
his hookah, a sword, and several nosegays. His highness rose, came
forward, took my hand, led me to the carpet, and begged of me to be
seated on a cane-bottomed arm-chair, which had evidently been placed
ready for my especial ease and occupation. After the usual compliments
had passed, the Maharajah inquired if I had eaten well. But, perhaps,
the general reader would like to know what are "the usual compliments."
Native Rajah. "The whole world is ringing with the praise of your
illustrious name."