one morning will suffice. I was called at half-past three; dressed,
and had some coffee, bread and butter, and an egg. At half-past four
Captain W. and Lieutenant H. called for me on an elephant. I gave my
gunpowder, &c. to two of my men to carry. The great animal then knelt
down. He had no howdah, as that is not necessary, except for ladies.
The only clothing on the elephant is a thick pad or cushion, covered
with leather, which extends over the whole of the back. He knelt, and
I climbed up in the usual manner; that is, by standing on his hind
foot, then catching hold of a rope which hangs down from his pad, and
scrambling up as well as one can. The mahout then told the elephant
to get up; and off we started, half sitting half lying on the pad,
and the servants, with the guns, &c., walking behind. It seems a
fearful height, and for the first few miles I could not help thinking
of the danger of a fall. However, one gets accustomed to such things.
The elephant carried us bravely over the loose sands, and down to a
ford in the river. In crossing the stream he went more cautiously,
seeming to feel each place before he put his foot down, as if he were
afraid of getting into a quicksand. Once or twice, when the water was
deep, I thought he would have been obliged to swim; but I was wrong:
though it would not have mattered if he had; we should have been
quite safe on his back.
After crossing the sand on the other side we went through some
paddy-fields and jungle towards a jheel (or marsh), which I had
mentioned as containing a great number of ducks. I had been there
previously on foot with Mr. L. When we reached the jheel a heavy
fog came on, and Captain W. therefore proposed that we should go
on farther into the jungle, in hopes of its clearing up, when we
should find some hares. You must remember that in India, where we get
nothing whatever but mutton and fowls, and where we cannot buy even
these, everything in the shape of meat is a treat, if not a necessary.
On we went; the fog cleared up; we got down in a jungle of low
brushwood, interspersed with several open spaces. We found some men
taking charge of a herd of buffaloes: for two pice each they agreed
to assist our servants in beating the bushes, and we were not long
before we started several hares. I only shot one; the others were
more fortunate.
At half-past seven we started on our way back. As we passed the jheel
I shot a widgeon. At half-past eight got home, had a cold bath, and
enjoyed my breakfast; and at dinner was very glad to have the hare
and widgeon, for the expense of two pice. I often go out this way.
The elephant belongs to the regiment which is stationed here. The
exercise before breakfast is most healthy. One time we came upon a
place in the midst of the jungle which I intend to visit again in the
cold weather, when I shall have more time to examine it.
April 15, 1843.
[Sidenote: FURNITURE.]
I will now endeavour to give you an idea of some of our arrangements.
We have moved to the other side of the house in order to have
our bed-room to the west; because the sea-breeze, which blows
every night, is a south-west wind. The room in which I am sitting
was my wife's dressing-room; the one I use is fifty feet long.
Dressing-rooms are absolutely necessary in this country, because
nothing is put into the sleeping apartment except the bed, because
of the mosquitoes, which harbour in swarms wherever they can find
shelter. The bed is never placed against the wall, but always in
the middle of the room; and the feet are placed in pans of water,
to prevent the white ants, centipedes, &c. from paying you a visit
during the night.
The room I am now in has one French window opening into the verandah
in front, another towards the church, a door opening into the next
room, and another into the godown or store-room. All these windows
and doors are now open, and I am sitting as near the centre as
I can, to catch what little breeze there is, for the weather is
fearfully hot; the thermometer at noon about 90° in-doors. It is
now eleven in the evening, and my wife is gone to bed. The floor,
which is of cement (wooden floors are never used here on account of
the white ant), is covered with a curious sort of matting, made of
the leaves of the date-tree. We always use mats instead of carpets
in India, because they are much cooler. The walls and the ceilings
are whitewashed, the universal substitute for paper or paint in the
Mofussil. When I say the ceiling, I mean the ceiling-cloths, which
are great sheets of canvas covering the tops of the rooms, and
fastened up with cords.
Over my head swings a punkah or fan, about eighteen feet long and
three wide, made of canvas stretched on a wooden frame, and also
whitewashed. This hangs from the ceiling, or rather from some bamboos
placed upon the ceiling. Suspended from the lower edge of the punkah
is a sort of full flounce of white calico circling along the whole
length. The punkah is swung backwards and forwards over my head by
means of a long rope pulled by a bearer sitting in the verandah. This
man is now fast asleep, but still he continues to pull the rope, and
so he would do for hours if I required it.
The furniture of the room consists of a table, a sideboard, and a
large screen of common cloth, stretched on a frame of sissoo-wood
(a sort of coarse rose-wood). It is about seven feet high and seven
across, and is placed before the door of the garden. On the sideboard
stands a flat candlestick, with a glass shade to keep the insects
from the flame. The candle is wax; we cannot use tallow for two
reasons: the climate of India is so hot that the candles would not
remain upright, and the sheep here have very little fat upon them. On
the table are two Indian table-lamps. I hardly know how to describe
them. The lower part is like an upright candlestick, on which is
placed a glass cup half filled with water, the other half with
cocoa-nut oil. In the bottom is a little bit of lead with two thin
cotton wicks in it, which reach a little above the surface of the
oil. These are alight. Over the whole is a large inverted bell-glass
to keep off the insects, which at present swarm around. Every minute
I hear the mosquitoes buzzing about my ears; then they settle on my
face, and on my clothes, through which they are enabled to bite with
ease. This keeps me in a continued fidget.
There is also an incessant whistling all around from what we call
crickets, though they are somewhat different from those in England.
A number of large grasshoppers, about two inches long, of a light
green, are hopping about on the table, and occasionally on my paper.
On the wall are several long-tailed lizards: they are only slightly
venomous; and, though extremely ugly, we are always glad to see them,
because they eat the mosquitoes. Round the ceiling are circling three
large bats, which my mungoose, sitting in a corner, keeps watching.
Should one fall, he would seize and devour him in an instant. A wild
cat came through the room just now, and took a peep at me; but the
mungoose growled, and it ran way. It was small; but it has been very
destructive in the poultry-yard.
[Sidenote: OLD CUTTACK.]
But I must now return to what I was telling. The place which we came
upon in the jungle is called Old Cuttack; and it deserves the name,
for I do not suppose it has been inhabited for the last thousand
years. It appears from what little I saw of it to be a most wonderful
place, and certainly proves that the population in the olden times
must have been very numerous, and far advanced in mechanical arts. It
consists of a deep ravine, the sides of which are composed of a dark
rock of extreme hardness, and containing a great quantity of iron. On
one side it has been made perfectly smooth, although certainly not
less than seventy feet in height: on the other are numerous steps and
staircases, cut out of the solid rock. The stone does not seem to
have been broken off and then chiselled smooth, but it appears as if
the steps had been cut out in solid pieces.
On the summit are the remains of houses built of large blocks, all
perfectly smooth, saving from the effects of time and weather.
Scattered about are heaps of rock, as if collected for building. At a
little distance on the banks of the river is a sort of seawall, which
I have not yet seen, but in which, they tell me, many of the masses
of rock are sixteen or eighteen feet long.
All this appears doubly wonderful when you remember that the natives
now, almost naked, build their houses of mud, without windows, and
with a miserable thatch; that their fireplaces are nothing but little
holes in the ground; and that in most respects they are absolute
savages. Either they have very much degenerated, or, which is more
probable, the race which built these mighty works is swept away.
April 17, 1843.
I was in doubt concerning the Chena Poojah, but it appears that the
hooks are fastened to a cord, which cuts into the body, and literally
causes the blood to flow in streams. They say also that it is the
victims themselves that pass the spears into their bodies, and not
the priests.
[Sidenote: THE COTTON-TREE.]
I may here mention that my compound and garden formerly belonged
to a General Carpenter, and he planted and sowed many very rare
plants--some from China, from America, and from the islands in
the Pacific. There are three trees of a very particular sort, of
which I very much wish to know the name. They are generally called
the cotton-tree, although altogether different from the ordinary
cotton-plant, and I suspect they come from America. The tree is about
thirty-five or forty feet in height, not many branches, and a very
smooth bark. I cannot describe the leaf, for as yet it is not out;
but it has borne flowers and fruit since I have been here; of course,
therefore, these were before the leaves. The flower, of a brilliant
red, is in appearance half-way between a tulip and a tiger-lily; it
grows from buds in the thick branches, and is about twice the size
of the latter flower. The blossom gives place to a pod about four or
five inches in length, and in the form of a sphere drawn out at both
ends. The interior of the pod is divided longitudinally into four
segments: the whole contains a great number of black seeds buried in
a soft silky cotton. I intend to stuff some pillows with it: I think
it will be as soft as down. The fibres are said to be too short to
form cloth; but I think if they had this tree in England they would
manage to use it, and the cloth would resemble very soft silk.
Juggernat'h, May, 1843.
The first account I received of the Chena Poojah was correct. The
hooks are passed through the muscles on each side the spine: for
several days previously the muscles are rubbed and beaten in order
to harden them. At the festival they frequently run pieces of iron
through the tongue. The victims belong to the lowest castes, and
generally swing and torture themselves as proxies for the Brahmins
who have made a vow.
This place is marked Juggernat'h on the maps, although properly that
is only the name of the idol in the temple. The town itself is called
Pooree, or the City of Cities.
[Sidenote: POOREE.]
I left Cuttack on Thursday, April 20, and after one night's dâk
arrived here, the distance being about forty-eight miles. I went to
the Circuit-house, a large unfurnished residence, appropriated by
Government to the use of those officers who go on circuit through the
district. However, Mr. B., the magistrate and principal person here,
would not allow me to remain there, but insisted upon my coming and
living at his house, and sending at once for my wife to come and join
me. This I gladly did. Mrs. Acland discharged most of our servants,
and came down here; so she has the benefit of living at Pooree,
and at the same time of saving money, for the month's wages of the
servants discharged will more than pay for her journey. We have a
bed-room, sitting and dressing apartments, and two bath-rooms to
ourselves; and we breakfast, dine, &c., with Mr. and Mrs. B.
It is difficult to imagine the delight of coming to such a place as
Pooree. At Cuttack we are obliged to keep every door and window shut,
in order to exclude the hot air. We close them at six in the morning
and open them at seven in the evening. One doorway is fitted with a
framework, covered with matting made of scented grass. This is called
a tatty, and is kept all day thoroughly wet, in order to cool the
room by evaporation, the punkah continually fanning over head; but
in spite of all this the heat is fearful, and still increasing; the
thermometer stood in-doors at 103°.
At Pooree, forty-eight miles from Cuttack, we have no punkahs, no
tatties; all the windows wide open, the waves rolling up close to
the houses, a delicious sea-breeze all day, the thermometer never
yet above 85°; not a mosquito to be seen, and no insects but a few
English flies. Excepting among the mountains, Pooree is perhaps the
coolest place in India, and I am considered most fortunate in having
it in my district.
The coming here is a renewal of life and strength. When we are
down on the sands in the evening, we might quite fancy ourselves
in England again; and I assure you that at five o'clock in the
afternoon, by the sea-side, we are glad to walk fast in order to keep
ourselves warm. This is the state of Pooree at present. After the
rains, that is, in October and November, it becomes extremely hot
and very unhealthy; for then the sea-breeze ceases and the land-wind
sets in, passing in its course over the dead bodies of hundreds of
pilgrims.
The most conspicuous object here is the temple of Juggernat'h, to
which devotees come from every part of India. It is an immense pile
of massive buildings. There are at times as many as one hundred
thousand pilgrims here at once. No European is allowed to enter even
the court.
[Sidenote: DANGER OF BATHING.]
The sea is most magnificent. The beach is composed entirely of sand,
something like that at Weston-super-Mare; but there is only a few
yards' difference between high and low water. There is an incessant
surf extending almost to the horizon--one line behind another of
enormous breakers. Some people used occasionally to bathe, but the
surf rendered it very dangerous, and at last one of them had a
leg carried away by a shark, since which every one is afraid; we
therefore have salt water brought up to the house.[3]
FOOTNOTE:
[3] A gap occurs here in the narrative, from a portion of it having
gone down in the "Memnon" in the Red Sea.
Cuttack, August 7, 1843.
[Sidenote: MOFUSSIL SOCIETY--MORNING VISITS.]
I must now give an account of Mofussil society. We will suppose a
married couple going to a new station,--as, for instance, my wife
and myself coming to Cuttack. Well, we arrive wretched enough about
eight o'clock in the morning, after a long dâk journey. All that
day we are engaged in setting things to rights. The next morning I
order my carriage, and go out to make my calls; for in India, unlike
England, the stranger calls first. The hours for calling are from
half-past ten to one, after which time you would not be admitted
anywhere, as it is supposed that the lady of the house is just going
to tiffin (lunch), which she takes at two, and then goes to sleep for
two or three hours.
Of course the first person I call on is the commanding officer. I
drive in at the gate of the compound, and under some trees, up to
the house door, and so under the portico; for every house has a
very large carriage portico to protect the horses from the sun. My
carriage is a phaëton--the britska, phaëton, and buggy being almost
the only vehicles used in India. The britska does very well for a
judge, and the buggy a sort of carriage for a single man. Mine is a
phaëton with two ponies. On the box sits the coachman--dark-brown
face, large black mustachios, white calico tunic and trowsers, white
turban, turned up with pale blue, as livery, and blue and white
cummerband round the waist; except only when it is wet, and then he
wears a crimson skull-cap, and a scarlet full cloak with sleeves. A
syce or groom runs by the side of the ponies.
Arrived at the door, I call out "Sahib hy?" Gentleman in? meaning, Is
your master at home? If not, I leave a card: if he is, I enter the
house, and follow the servant who has answered me. I should have told
you that there are no such things as knockers or bells here. Every
door is open, unless in the very hot weather, and there are always
six or eight servants lounging about in the verandah. As I step out
of the carriage, each one of these stoops down, touches the ground
with the back of his hand, and then pats his forehead three or four
times, signifying, I suppose, that, if I were to order him, he would
even throw dirt upon his own head.
In reply to the question "Sahib hy?" one of the men answers, "Hy,
khadawum"--He is, O representative of God; at the same time holding
his hands pressed together as if he were saying his prayers. He
precedes me into the house, still in the same attitude. He sets me a
chair, whilst another man comes in, unfastens the rope of the punkah,
and, taking the end of it out into the verandah, sits down and pulls
it, and very soon falls asleep, still, however, continuing his
occupation.
Presently in comes the master of the house, dressed in white jacket,
black neckerchief (if any), white shirt, white trowsers, white
stockings, and shoes made of some white skin. I should have told
you that the servant who shows me in takes my card to his master,
with which card his master plays the whole time I am there. In a few
minutes in comes the lady, in clothes hanging loosely around her;
she probably does not wear stays in the morning: her dress is white
muslin, and her face, as well as those of her children, if she have
any, is of a ghastly pale colour. This is universal in India.
There is not much conversation at a first visit, so I soon rise and
go to some person to whom I have a letter of introduction, when he
at once volunteers to accompany me on the rest of my calls. These
first visits are made by the gentleman only; his wife does not
accompany him. In the course of a few days the gentlemen return
the call, bringing their wives with them. Daughters are out of the
question: beyond the age of six they are a genus unknown in India.
They go to England at that age, come out again to India at eighteen,
and probably marry in Calcutta, and settle at once some four or
five months' journey from their parents, who have been so anxiously
looking forward to seeing them.
[Sidenote: DINNER-PARTIES.]
A few days after the form of calling has been gone through, some
half-dozen different persons send you invitations to dinner, kindly
wishing to welcome the stranger to the station. From half-past seven
to eight is the usual hour in India; for if people dined earlier
they would necessarily lose their evening drive. The carriage enters
the compound; a servant runs in to the sahib, and, pressing his own
hands together, says, "Ghairee ata" (carriage comes). Out issues the
sahib into the front verandah: the lady is handed out; the gentleman
offers his arm, and walks off, leaving me to follow as best I may.
From the verandah we enter the dining-room. There are no halls or
passages or cupboards in the Mofussil. Down the whole length of the
room is a long table laid for dinner, round which we must wind to
get to the opposite door leading into the drawing-room. Here are a
number of ladies seated on one side the room, on the other side the
gentlemen. After a little while an old Indian with a long silvery
beard, and dressed completely in white, comes in, and, pressing his
hands together, says, "Canna mig" (dinner on table).
Then the master of the house gives his arm to the most important
lady present; the others do likewise, according to the most strict
precedence of rank, the lady of the house being taken first. She does
not take the top of the table, but assigns that place to whoever has
led her in, herself occupying the seat next him on his right hand.
Each person brings his khitmutgar; accordingly, behind each chair
stands a man in white, who, as you sit down, unfolds and hands you
the napkin which was on your plate; he then falls back a step, and
crosses his arms over his chest. As soon as grace has been said, the
cover is taken off the soup-tureen, and those who like it are helped
to a rich sort of chicken-broth.
After that, you hear on every side--"Mrs. So-and-so, may I have
the pleasure of taking a glass of wine with you?" "I shall be very
happy." "Which do you take, beer or wine?" "Thank you; I will take a
little beer," or "wine," as the case may be. Suppose the former, and
myself the speaker, I turn round and say to my khitmutgar, "Beer,
shraubs meem Sahib, ki do" (beer-wine, Mrs. Lady, give).
In the mean time they are uncovering the dishes. At the top is a
pair of fine roast fowls, at the bottom a pair of boiled ditto. At
the sides, fowl cutlets, fowl patties, fowl rissoles, stewed fowls,
grilled fowl, chicken-pie, &c. &c. No ham, no bacon, and little tiny
potatoes not larger than a cherry, with stewed cucumbers, and some
sticky Indian vegetables, are handed round. But for the second course
a great treat is reserved. Six or seven mutton-chops, each equal
to one mouthful, are brought in, and with much ceremony placed at
the top of the table; at the other end are slices of potatoes fried.
Your hostess tells you how glad she was that Mr. So-and-so had sent
her the loin of a Patna sheep to-day: she hoped we should like it.
Then comes curried fowl and rice; then pine-apple pie, custard,
jelly, plantain, oranges, pine-apples, &c. &c.; but directly these
sweets appear, there appear also, behind the chairs of many of the
gentlemen, servants carrying a little carpet, with a neat fringe to
it. These they place at the back of their masters' chairs, on the
floor, and then each servant brings in a large hookah, places it on
the little carpet, and, whilst the ladies and others are eating the
custards, pies, and fruits, you have all around you the incessant
bubble from the hookah, and smell the filthy smoke from an abominable
compound of tobacco and various noxious drugs.
The ladies rarely sit for above one glass of wine, when they retire
and leave the smokers to themselves. Cigars are then produced for the
use of the other gentlemen; and, after they have all smoked and drunk
a little more wine than enough, they join the ladies. Then there is a
little general talking, then a little music: then come cards--I never
play--and then the good-byes, and so home to bed--a nightmare during
one's sleep, and a headache in the morning! When alone, we always
dine at four.
Cuttack, August 29, 1843.
[Sidenote: OURANG-OUTANG.]
I had been sitting in the verandah reading, and went away for a few
minutes to speak to my wife. When I came back my chair was occupied.
There, sitting as quietly and demurely as possible, was an enormous
ourang-outang, or monkey of some sort. When I first caught sight of
him he had my book in his hands, and was to all appearance reading.
It happened, however, to be rather a stupid book, and he very soon
threw it down; he then placed his hands upon his knees and sat
perfectly still, just as if he had been meditating on what he had
been reading. I should say, as nearly as I could judge, that he must
have been above five feet in height, supposing him to stand erect. He
sat as upright as any man.
After watching him for a minute or two, and observing that the calves
of his legs were thicker and more like those of a man than monkeys'
legs usually are, I stepped quietly back and called my wife. All
this time I had not seen his face; however, as she came, one of the
parrots screamed, and the old gentleman turned his head. His face
was very dark, with large whiskers and beard, and hair all perfectly
white; his body a light-brown, and his face and hands peculiarly
large. As soon as he saw me he half rose, laid both hands on the
elbow of the chair, and began to grin and show his teeth and spit at
me. I did not quite like it, as I was afraid he might make a spring
in my direction; yet I knew that my voice would at once frighten him
away, if I raised the horrid unearthly yell used by the natives to
scare wild beasts, and which even the tiger will hardly resist unless
much pressed by hunger.