Begums, Thugs and White Mughals

by Fanny Parkes

  We have spent the last three weeks most delightfully at Papamhow. Every sort of scientific amusement was going forward. Painting in oil and water colours, sketching from nature, turning, making curious articles in silver and brass, constructing Aeolian harps, amusing ourselves with archery, trying the rockets on the sands of an evening, chemical experiments, botany, gardening; in fact, the day was never half long enough for our employment in the workshop and the grounds.

  Papamhow is five miles from our own house, standing on higher ground and in a better situation, on the Ganges; when we can make holiday, we go up and stay at our country house, as our neighbours call it.

  The old moonshee is cutting out my name in the Persian character, on the bottom of a Burmese idol, to answer as a seal. What an excellent picture the old man, with his long grey beard, would make! I have caught two beautiful little squirrels, with bushy tails and three white stripes on their backs; they run about the table, come to my shoulder, and feed from my hand.

  May – Our friend at Papamhow is gunpowder agent to the Government, and manager of the rocket manufactory; his services are likely to be fully exerted, as it is reported that Runjeet Singh is not expected to live four months, being in the last stage of a liver complaint, and that his son, it is thought, will hoist the standard of rebellion. What gives foundation for this is that Lord Combermere is about to make the tour of the Upper Provinces, and that a concentration of forces is to take place on the frontier, under the pretext of a grand military inspection and review. There is no doubt as to who will go to the wall.

  We have just received news of the death of Lord Hastings, and learn from the same papers that Lord Amherst has been created an earl, and Lord Combermere a viscount.

  We have been occupied in planting a small avenue of neem trees in front of the house; unlike the air around the tamarind, that near a neem tree is reckoned wholesome – according to the Gujerāti proverb, we had made no advance on our heavenward road until the avenue was planted, which carried us on one-third of the journey. No sooner were the trees in the ground, than the servants requested to be allowed to marry a neem to a young peepal tree (Ficus religiosa), which marriage was accordingly celebrated by planting a peepal and neem together, and entwining their branches. Some pooja was performed at the same time which, with the ceremony of the marriage, was sure to bring good fortune to the newly-planted avenue.

  The neem is a large and beautiful tree, common in most parts of India (Melia azadirachta or margosa tree); its flowers are fragrant – a strong decoction of the leaves is used as a cure for strains.

  Oil is prepared from the berry of the neem, (neem cowrie, as they call it,) which is esteemed excellent, and used as a liniment in violent headaches brought on by exposure to the sun, and in rheumatic and spasmodic affections. The flowers are fragrant: anything remarkably bitter is compared to the neem tree; ‘yeh duwa kurwee hy jyse neem’: this medicine is bitter as neem.

  The bacäin, or māhā nimba (Melia sempervivens), a variety of the neem tree, is remarkably beautiful. ‘The neem tree will not become sweet though watered with syrup and clarified butter’.

  My pearl of the desert, my milk-white Arab, Mootee, is useless; laid up with an inflammation and swelling in his forelegs; he looks like a creature afflicted with elephantiasis – they tell us to keep him cool – we cannot reduce the heat of the stable below 120°!

  I feel the want of daily exercise: here it is very difficult to procure a good Arab; the native horses are vicious, and utterly unfit for a lady; and I am too much the spoiled child of my mother to mount an indifferent horse.

  August 28th – Last week we made our salam to the Earl of Arracan and his lady, who stopped at Allahabad, en route, and were graciously received.

  The society is good and the station pretty and well-ordered; the roads the best in India, no small source of gratification to those whose enjoyment consists in a morning and evening drive: a course is also in progress, round which we are to gallop next cold weather when we have, indeed, the finest of climates, of which you, living in your dusty, damp, dull, foggy, fuliginous England, have no idea.

  About the middle of April the hot winds set in, when we are confined to the house, rendered cool by artificial means; after this come four months of the rains, generally a very pleasant time; then a pause of a month, and then the cold weather.

  September 20th – I have just received a most charming present, a white Arab, from Koordistān: he is a beautiful creature, and from having been educated in the tents of the Koords, is as tame as a pet lamb. His colour grey, his mane long and dark; his long white tail touches his heels; such a beautiful little head! He looks like a younger brother of Scamp, the Arab I sold on quitting Calcutta. I hear that when a lady was riding Scamp the other day, he threw her, and nearly fractured her skull. She was for some time in danger, but has recovered.

  December 1st – For the last three weeks I have been gadding about the country, the gayest of the gay. A friend at Lucknow invited me to pay her a visit, at the time Lord Combermere was to stay at the residency. Having a great desire to see a native court, and elephant and tiger fights, I accepted the invitation with pleasure.

  Accompanied by an aide-de-camp who was going to see the tamāshā, I reached Lucknow after a run of three nights. Mr Mordaunt Ricketts received me with great kindness; I spent a few days at the residency, and the rest with my friend.

  On the arrival at Lucknow of his excellency the commander-in-chief, the King of Oude, Nusseer-ood-Deen Hyder, as a compliment to that nobleman, sent his son, Prince Kywan Jah, with the deputation appointed to receive his lordship, by whom the prince was treated as the walī-ahd, or heir-apparent.

  The first day, Lord Combermere and the resident breakfasted with the King of Oude; the party was very numerous. We retired afterwards to another room, where trays of presents were arranged upon the floor, ticketed with the names of the persons for whom they were intended, and differing in their number and value according to the rank of the guests. Two trays were presented to me, the first containing several pairs of cashmere shawls, and a pile of India muslin and kimkhwāb, or cloth of gold. The other tray contained strings of pearl, precious stones, bracelets, and other beautiful native jewellery. I was desired to make my salam in honour of the bounty of his majesty. As soon as the ceremony had finished, the trays were carried off and placed in the Company’s treasury, an order having arrived directing that all presents made to the servants of the Company should be accepted – but for the benefit of the state.

  That night his majesty dined at the residency, and took his departure at ten o’clock, when quadrilles immediately commenced. The ladies were not allowed to dance while his majesty was present, as, on one occasion, he said, ‘that will do, let them leave off’; thinking the ladies were quadrilling for his amusement, like nāch women. The second day, the king breakfasted with Lord Combermere, and we dined at the palace.

  During dinner a favourite nāch woman attitudinised a little behind and to the right of his majesty’s chair; at times he cast an approving glance at her performance. Sometimes she sang and moved about, and sometimes she bent her body backwards, until her head touched the ground; a marvellously supple, but not a graceful action.

  The mornings were devoted to sports, and quadrilles passed away the evenings. I saw some very good elephant fights, some indifferent tiger fights, a rhinoceros against three wild buffaloes, in short, battles of every sort; some were very cruel, and the poor animals had not fair play.

  The best fight was seen after breakfast at the palace. Two quails (battaire) were placed on the table; a hen bird was put near them; they set to instantly, and fought valiantly. One of the quails was driven back by his adversary, until the little bird, who fought every inch of his forced retreat, fell off the table into my lap. I picked him up and placed him upon the table again; he flew at his adversary instantly. They fight, unless separated, until they die. His majesty was delighted with the amusement. The saying is, ‘Cocks fight for fighti
ng’s sake, quails for food, and the Lalls for love’. It appeared to me the quails were animated by the same passion as the Lalls:

  Deux coqs vivaient en paix: une poule survint,

  Et voila la guerre allumée.

  Amour, tu perdis Troie!

  On quitting the presence of his majesty, a necklace of silver and gold tissue (harrh), very beautifully made, was placed around the neck of each of the guests, and atr of roses put on their hands.

  The resident having sent me a fine English horse, I used to take my morning canter, return to cantonments, dress, and drive to the presidency to breakfast by eight o’clock. The horse, a magnificent fellow, had but one fault – a trick of walking almost upright on his hind legs. It was a contest between us; he liked to have his own way, and I was determined to have mine.

  The dinners, balls, and breakfasts were frequent. Lord Combermere was in high good humour. His visit lasted about eight days, during which time he was entertained by the resident in Oriental style.

  My journey having been delayed for want of bearers for my palanquin from Cawnpore, I arrived at Lucknow too late to see the ladies of the royal zenāna. The lady of the resident had been invited to visit their apartments the day before my arrival. She told me they were very fine, at least the dupatta (veil) was gay in gold and silver, but the rest of the attire very dirty. They appeared to have been taken by surprise, as they were not so highly ornamented as they usually are on a day of parade. I felt disappointed in being unable to see the begums; they would have interested me more than the elephant fights, which, of all the sights I beheld at Lucknow, pleased me the most.

  I returned home at the end of December. The resident had the kindness to give me an escort of Skinner’s horse to protect my palanquin, and see me safely out of the kingdom of Oude as far as Cawnpore, which, being in the Company’s territories, was considered out of danger; and during the rest of the journey I was accompanied by two gentlemen.

  Colonel Luard thus speaks of Skinner’s horse: ‘This is a most effective irregular corps, taking its name from its gallant colonel. An extraordinary feat is performed with the lance: a tent-peg is driven into the ground, nearly up to the head; and the lancer, starting at speed some distance from the peg, passes it on the near side, at his utmost pace, and, while passing, with considerable force drives his lance into the tent-peg, allowing the lance instantly to pass through his hand, or the shock would unhorse him; then, by a dexterous turn of the wrist, forces the peg out of the ground at the point of his lance, and bears the prize in triumph over his shoulder.’

  In my vanity I had flattered myself dullness would have reigned triumphant at Prāg; nevertheless, I found my husband had killed the fatted calf, and ‘lighted the lamp of ghee’ i.e. made merry.

  I sent a little seal, on which this motto was engraved, ‘Toom ghee ka dhye jalāo’, to a lady in England, telling her ghee is clarified butter. When a native gives a feast, he lights a number of small lamps with ghee. If he say to a friend ‘Will you come to my feast?’ the answer may be, ‘Light thou the lamp of ghee’, which means, ‘Be you merry, I will be there.’ Therefore if you accept an invitation, you may use this seal with propriety.

  CHAPTER IX

  RESIDENCE AT ALLAHABAD

  JANUARY 1828 – Leap Year – I before mentioned we had accomplished one-third of our way to heaven, by planting an avenue; we now performed another portion of the journey, by sinking a well. As soon as the work was completed, the servants lighted it up with numerous little lamps, and strewed flowers upon its margin, to bring a blessing upon the newly-raised water. From Hissar we received six cows and a bull, very handsome animals, with remarkably fine humps, such as are sold in England under the denomination of buffalo humps, which are, in reality, the humps of Indian cows and oxen.

  Tame buffaloes are numerous at Prāg. The milk is strong, and not generally used for making butter, but is made into ghee (clarified butter), useful for culinary purposes. Some most beautiful Barbary goats arrived with the cows; they were spotted brown and white or black and white and almost as beautiful as deer. The Bengali goats yield a much larger portion of milk. I had also a Jumnapār goat, an enormous fellow, with very broad, long, thin, and silky ears, as soft as velvet. The Jumnapār are the best adapted for marching. Unless they can go into the jungle and browse, they become thin and lose their milk. These goats, bred on the banks of the Jumna, thence called ‘Jumnapār’, are remarkably fine, and of a large size.

  We had a Doomba ram at Prāg. The Doomba sheep are difficult to keep alive in this climate. Their enormous tails are reckoned delicacies; the lambs are particularly fine flavoured.

  January – Our garden was now in good order; we had vegetables in abundance, marrowfat peas as fine as in England, and the water-cresses, planted close to the new well, were pearls beyond price. Allahabad is famous for the growth of the finest carrots in India. At this time of the year we gave our horses twelve seer each daily; it kept them in high health, and French-polished their coats. The geraniums grew luxuriantly during this delightful time; and I could be out in the garden all day, when protected by an enormous chatr, carried by a bearer. The up-country chatr is a very large umbrella, in shape like a large flat mushroom, covered with doubled cloth, with a deep circle of fringe. Great people have them made of silk, and highly ornamented. The pole is very long, and it is full employment for one man to carry the chatr properly.

  The oleander (kaner), the beautiful sweet-scented oleander, was in profusion – deep red, pure white, pink, and variegated, with single and double blossoms. I rooted up many clusters of this beautiful shrub in the grounds, fearing the horses and cows might eat the leaves, which are poisonous. Hindu women, when tormented by jealousy, have recourse to this poison for self-destruction.

  The Ice-pits

  January 22nd – My husband has the management of the ice concern this year. It is now in full work, the weather bitterly cold, and we are making ice by evaporation almost every night. I may here remark, the work continued until the 19th of February, when the pit was closed with 3000 mann – a mann is about 80lb. weight. There are two ice-pits; over each a house is erected; the walls, built of mud, are low, thick, and circular; the roof is thickly thatched; there is only one entrance, by a small door, which, when closed, is defended from the sun and air by a jhamp, or framework of bamboo covered with straw.

  [ … ]

  It is amusing to see the old ābdār who has charge of the ice concern, walking up and down of an evening, watching the weather, and calculating if there be a chance of making ice. This is a grand point to decide, as the expense of filling the pans is great, and not to be incurred without a fair prospect of a crop of ice (barf) the next morning. He looks in the wind’s eye, and if the breeze be fresh, and likely to increase, the old man draws his warm garment around him, and returning to his own habitation – a hut close to the pits – resigns himself to fate and his hubble-bubble. But should there be a crisp frosty feeling in the air, he prepares for action at about six or seven o’clock, by beating a tom-tom (a native hand-drum), a signal well known to the coolies in the bazaar, who hasten to the pits. By the aid of the little cup fastened to the long sticks, they fill all the rukābees with the water from the jars in the pathway. Many hundred coolies, men, women, and children, are thus employed until every little pan is filled.

  If the night be frosty, without wind, the ice will form perhaps an inch and a half in thickness in the pans. If a breeze should blow, it will often prevent the freezing of the water, except in those parts of the grounds that are sheltered from the wind.

  About three o’clock the ābdār, carefully muffled in some yards of English red or yellow broad cloth, would be seen emerging from his hut; and if the formation of ice was sufficiently thick, his tom-tom was heard, and the shivering coolies would collect, wrapped up in black bazaar blankets, and shaking with cold. Sometimes it was extremely difficult to rouse them to their work, and the increased noise of the tom-toms – discordant native instruments �
�� disturbed us and our neighbours with the pleasing notice of more ice for the pits. Each cooly, armed with a spud, knocked the ice out of the little pans into a basket, which having filled, he placed it on his head, ran with it to the icehouse, and threw it down the great pit.

  The ice-pits

  When all the pans had been emptied, the people assembled around the old ābdār, who kept an account of the number at work on a roll of paper or a book. From a great bag full of pice (copper coins) and cowrie-shells, he paid each man his hire.

  About ten men were retained, on extra pay, to finish the work. Each man having been supplied with a blanket, shoes, and a heavy wooden mallet, four at a time descended into the pit by a ladder, and beat down the ice collected there into a hard flat mass; these men were constantly relieved by a fresh set, the cold being too great for them to remain long at the bottom of the pit.

  When the ice was all firmly beaten down, it was covered in with mats, over which a quantity of straw was piled, and the door of the ice-house locked. The pits are usually opened on the 1st of May, but it is better to open them on the 1st of April. We had ice this year until the 20th of August. Each subscriber’s allowance is twelve ser (24 lb.) every other day. A bearer, or a cooly is sent with an ice-basket, a large bazaar blanket, a cotton cloth, and a wooden mallet, at four o’clock, to bring the ice from the pit. The ābdār, having weighed the ice, puts it into the cloth, and ties it up tightly with a string; the cooly then beats it all round into the smallest compass possible, ties it afresh, and, having placed it in the blanket within the ice-basket, he returns home. The gentleman’s ābdār, on his arrival at his master’s house, re-weighs the ice, as the coolies often stop in the bazaars, and sell a quantity of it to natives, who are particularly fond of it, the man pretending it has melted away en route.