by Fanny Parkes
To release captive birds propitiates the favour of heaven. A great man will release prisoners from jail when he is anxious for the recovery of a relative from illness, or to procure an heir!
The Jānwar Khāna, a menagerie filled with wild beasts, animals of every sort and birds in profusion, next attracted my attention. You may talk of Le Jardin des Plantes, but the Jānwar Khāna at Lucknow is far better worth visiting. There was an immense Doomba sheep, with four horns, and such a tail! Perfectly enormous.
We paid a visit to the tomb of Saadut Ulee Khān, the king’s grandfather, a beautiful building, near which is the tomb of the begum, both worth seeing.
January 20th – I rode with the Resident to his country-house, a short distance from Lucknow, situated in the midst of delightful gardens; there are about twenty of these gardens, filled with fine tanks, wells, and beautiful trees; the Resident contemplates turning them into a park.
January 28th – We went over a zenāna garden; the house, dedicated to the ladies, was a good one, situated in a large garden surrounded by a high stone wall. The orthodox height for the four walls of a zenāna garden is that no man standing on an elephant can overlook them. The building is surrounded with fine trees; and a fountain played before it, in which gold and silver fish were swimming. Near it was an avenue in which was a swing, the invariable accompaniment of a zenāna garden. The season in which the ladies more particularly delight to swing in the open air is during the rains. I cantered back to the Residency at ten o’clock; the sun was warm, but I thought not of his beams.
After breakfast, I retired to write my journal (knowing how much pleasure it would give her for whom it was kept), although I had that delightful man, Colonel Gardner, to converse with; such a high caste gentleman! How I wish I had his picture! He is married to a native princess, and his granddaughter is betrothed to one of the princes of Delhi. The begum, his wife, is in Lucknow, but so ill that I have been unable to pay my respects to her. Colonel Gardner has promised me, if we will visit Agra or Delhi next year which we hope to do, he will give me letters of introduction to some of the ladies of the palace, under which circumstances I shall have the opportunity of seeing Delhi to the greatest advantage.
A very fine corps of men, called Gardner’s Horse, were raised by him; single-handed nothing can resist them, such masters are they of their horses and weapons. I told him I was anxious to see good native riding, and feats of horsemanship; he said, ‘An old servant of mine is now in Lucknow, in the king’s service; he is the finest horseman in India. I gave that man Rs 150 a month (about £150 per annum) for the pleasure of seeing him ride. He could cut his way through thousands. All men who know anything of native horsemanship, know that man: he has just sent me word he cannot pay his respects to me, for if he were to do so, the king would turn him out of service.’ I asked why? He answered, ‘There is such a jealousy of the English at court: as for the king, he is a poor creature and can neither like nor dislike. Hakīm Menhdi the minister rules him entirely, and he abhors the English.’
It is a curious circumstance that many of the palaces in Lucknow have fronts in imitation of the palaces in Naples and Rome, etc.; and the real native palace is beyond in an enclosed space.
Being tired with writing, I will go down and talk to Colonel Gardner. Should no men be in the room, he will converse respecting the zenāna, but the moment a man enters, it is a forbidden subject.
Lucknow is a very beautiful city; and the view from the roof of the Residency particularly good.
I am fatigued with my ride through the sun; nevertheless, I will go out on an elephant this evening, and view all the old part of the city. I like this barā sāhib life; this living en prince; in a climate so fine as this is at present it is delightful.
The subjects of his Majesty of Oude are by no means desirous of participating in the blessings of British rule. They are a richer, sleeker and merrier race than the natives in the territories of the Company.
What a delightful companion is this Colonel Gardner! I have had most interesting conversation with him which has been interrupted by his being obliged to attend his poor sick wife, as he calls the begum. She is very ill, and her mind is as much affected as her body: he cannot persuade her to call in the aid of medicine. A short time ago she lost her son, Allan Gardner, aged twenty-nine years: then she lost a daughter and a grandson; afterwards a favourite daughter; and now another young, grandson is dangerously ill. These misfortunes have broken her spirit and she refuses all medical aid. That dear old man has made me weep like a child. I could not bear the recital of his sorrows and sufferings. He said, ‘You often see me talking and apparently cheerful at the Resident’s table, when my heart is bleeding.’
We have had a long conversation respecting his own life, and I have been trying to persuade him to write it. He says, ‘If I were to write it, you would scarcely believe it; it would appear fiction.’ He is gone to the sick begum. How I long for another tête à tête, in the hope of learning his private history!
He must have been, and is, very handsome; such a high caste man! How he came to marry the begum I know not. What a romance his love must have been! I wish I had his portrait, just as he now appears, so dignified and interesting. His partiality flatters me greatly.
CHAPTER XVIII
REVELATIONS OF LIFE IN THE ZENĀNA
JANUARY 29TH 1831 – We drove to Barouda, a palace built in the French style; I saw there nothing worthy of remark, but two marble tables, inlaid in the most delicate and beautiful manner with flowers of the convolvulus.
January 20th – The Resident and all his party breakfasted with the King on the anniversary of his coronation, which takes place in any month, and on any day, according to his Majesty’s pleasure.
During breakfast my attention was deeply engrossed by the prime minister, the Nawāb Moontuzim-ul-Dowla, Menhdi Ulee Khān Bahadur, commonly called Nawāb Hakīm Menhdi. I conversed with him at times and eyed him well as he was seated next to me and opposite the King, telling his beads the whole time, for good luck perhaps; his rosary was composed of enormous pearls.
His majesty’s huqqa was presented to the Nawāb; Lord William Bentinck and the Resident were honoured with the same: it is a great distinction; no subject can smoke, unless by permission, in the royal presence. Huqqas are only presented to the Governor-General, the Commander-in-chief, the Resident, and the Bishop of Calcutta – if he likes a pipe.
Numerous histories respecting the prime minister were current in the bazaar, far too romantic and extraordinary to be believed, of which the following is a specimen: ‘The truth or falsehood of the story rests on the head of the narrator.’
The hakīm (physician or learned man) was formerly employed on a salary of about twenty rupees a month. The commencement of his enormous fortune began thus: he was in tents in the district; a very rich Hindu was with him within the canvas walls (kanats), with which tents are surrounded. This man was said to have died during the night; his corpse was given to his relations, who were in the camp, to be burned according to Hindu custom. There were two black marks round the neck of the corpse. It is a custom amongst Hindus to put sweetmeats into the mouth of a dead body. When they opened the mouth of the corpse for this purpose, within it was found a finger, bitten off at the second joint. On that very night the confidential servant of the hakīm lost his finger! The hakīm seized the man’s treasure, which laid the foundation of his fortune. He next took into pay a number of thieves and murderers who made excursions and shared the booty with the hakīm. They say the man’s art is such that he keeps in favour both with natives and Europeans, in spite of his crimes.
Having been unable to bring the Resident over to his views, he is his sworn enemy and would give thousands to any one who would poison him. Many of the servants now standing behind the Resident’s chair know the reward they might obtain. They would not poison any dish from which many might eat, the most likely thing in which it would be administered would be coffee or ice!
Aft
er breakfast, the King went into the next apartment where the Resident, with all due form, having taken off the King’s turban, placed the crown upon his head and he ascended the masnad.
Khema-jah, the eldest boy, about fourteen years of age, is an ill-looking low caste wretch, with long, straight, lank hair, coarse, falling lips, and bad teeth. The manners and looks of the boy proclaim his caste. He was the first person presented to his Majesty, and received four or five dresses of honour, made of thick Benares gold and silver kinkhwāb, which were all put upon his person one over the other. A jewelled turban was put on his head, and a necklace of pearls and precious stones round his neck; and over all these dresses of honour were placed four or five pairs of cashmere shawls. A sword, dagger and shield were given him; an elephant, a horse, and a palanquin. Having made his salam to his majesty and offered some gold mohurs, he retired.
The younger boy, Feredooa Buckht, a bold and independent child, then came forward and received the same presents in the same style.
The dresses of honour (khil’ats) are sometimes given away to dependants on the same day; this, if known, would be considered an insult.
Then appeared the minister, the Nawāb Hakīm Menhdi: when the first dress of honour was put on him, it being too small, he could only put in one arm; and there he stood shaking, perhaps from an idea of its being a bad omen. The Nawāb prostrated himself before the King, and took off his own turban; His Majesty himself immediately placed a jewelled one on the uncovered head of the minister. Imagine the old man, sinking beneath the weight of years, his head totally bald and his person overwhelmed with dresses of honour, shawls, and presents, like those before given to the young princes. He trembled so much, the elephant-goad fell from his hand, a sign of his own fall; and the gold mohurs he attempted to retain in his hands fell at the foot of the throne. The people say there is a prophecy he will come to an untimely end next February: ‘A bad omen ought not to be mentioned.’
When Mossem-ood-Dowla (the true heir) approached, he was coldly received, and a deep cloud for some time darkened his countenance. Mossemood-Dowla is a fine, handsome man with a keen eye and a very intelligent, good-natured countenance. It was a painful sight to see him do homage to one who had no right to the throne, but through the power of an unjust law.
I was standing next to the Resident and the Prime Minister when, during a part of the ceremony, a shower of precious stones was thrown over us; I looked at the Resident, and saw him move his arm to allow the valuables that had fallen upon him to drop to the ground; I imitated his example by moving my scarf, on which some were caught; it would have been infra dig. to have retained them; they fell to the ground, and were scrambled for by the natives; the shower consisted of emeralds, rubies, pearls, etc., etc.
A magnifique style of largesse!
After all the dresses of honour had been presented to the different persons, a hār, a necklace of gold and silver tinsel, very elegantly made, was placed around the neck of each of the visitors; atr of roses was put on my hands, and on the hands of some other visitors, in compliment to the Resident, by his Majesty himself. Pān was presented, and rose water was sprinkled over us; after which ceremonies, we all made our bohut bohut ādāb salam (most respectful reverence) to the King of Oude, and took our departure. The gold and silver tinsel hārs have been substituted for strings of pearl, which it was customary to present to visitors until an order of government, promulgated four years ago, forbade the acceptance of presents.
The Zenāna
The following account of the begums was given me by one whose life would have paid the forfeit had it been known he had revealed the secrets of the zenāna; he desired me not to mention it at the time, or he should be murdered on quitting Oude.
Sultana Boa
‘The Queen is the daughter of his Royal Highness Mirza Muhammad Sulimān Shekō, the own brother of the present Emperor of Delhi, Akbar Shāh.
‘From the first day after marriage, neglected and ill-treated, she was only allowed, until lately, Rs 20 rupees a day; she has now Rs 2000 a month, but is not permitted to leave her apartments; the servants of her family have all been discharged and she is in fact a prisoner. Neither the King nor any of his family ever visit her, and no other person is permitted to approach her apartments.
‘The lady of the Resident told me, ‘She is a great beauty, the handsomest woman she ever saw.’ I have seen her sister, and can easily believe she has not exaggerated. The Queen is now about sixteen or seventeen years old (1830) and has been married, I believe, about five years.
‘Mirza Sulimān Shekō, the father, lived at Lucknow since the time of Ussufood-Dowla and was forced by the late King of Oude to give him his daughter in marriage. The dower (mehr) of the Princess was settled at five crores (a crore is ten million rupees) and the father had a grant of Rs 5000 a month, which is not paid; and in June 1828 the Prince was insulted, and obliged to quit Lucknow with every sort of indignity.’
Mulka Zumanee
‘The second begum is the wife of Ramzanee, a cherkut or elephant servant, who is now pensioned on thirty rupees a month, and kept in surveillance at Sandee; some time after her marriage the lady proved naughty and was next acknowledged as the chère amie of an itinerant barber; she left him, and took service with Mirza Jewad Ali Beg’s family as a servant-of-all-work, on eight anās a month and her food. She was next heard of as a gram-grinder at – serai, where her eldest son, by name Tillooah, was born; her next child was a daughter.
‘At this time Moonah Jāh (Feredooa Buckht) was born in the palace; and, amongst others who sought the situation of nurse, Ramzanee’s wife attended; she was approved of by the hākims and was installed nurse to the heir-apparent.
‘Her age was then near forty, her size immoderate, her complexion the darkest; but she soon obtained such influence over the King that he married her and gave her the title of (the daughter of the Emperor Furrukshere, and the wife of the Emperor Mohummud Shāh,) – Mulka Zumanee! Well may she exclaim, “Oh Father! I have got into a strange difficulty, I have left off picking up cow-dung, and am employed in embroidery!”.
‘She has a jagir of Rs 50,000 a month, and the power of expending Rs 50,000 more from the treasury monthly. Her son Tillooah was about three years of age when she was entertained as nurse, but such was her power that his Majesty publicly declared himself the father of the boy, and he was in consequence recognised as heir to the crown, with the title of Khema Jāh!’
The King has five queens, although by Mohammedan law he ought only to have four. His Majesty of Oude possesses, to a considerable extent, that peculiarly masculine faculty of retaining the passion and changing the object.
He heeds not the proverb, ‘Do not put your beard into the hands of another.’
As far as I recollect the history of his last and favourite wife it is this: the Nawāb Hakīm Menhdi, finding his influence less than usual, adopted a nāch girl as his daughter because the King admired her, and induced his Majesty to marry her. Her name is Gosseina; she is not pretty, but possesses great influence over her royal lover. This girl, some fourteen months ago, was dancing at the Residency for twenty-five rupees a night: and a woman of such low caste not even a sā’is would have married her. The King now calls the hakīm his father-in-law, and says, ‘I have married your daughter, but you have not married her mother; I insist on your marrying her mother.’ The hakīm tries to fight off and says he is too old; but the King often annoys him by asking when the marriage is to take place.
‘There is no bird like a man,’ i.e. so volatile and unsteady.
The beautiful Tājmahul; whom I mentioned in Chapter x, is entirely superseded by this Gosseina, the present reigning favourite; Tājmahul has taken to drinking, and all the King’s drunken bouts are held at her house.
When he marched to Cawnpore he took Tājmahul and Gosseina with him, and their retinue was immense. It is said that the beautiful Timoorian, Sultana Boa, the Princess of Delhi, was so much disgusted at her father’s being forced to
give her in marriage to Nusseer-ood-Deen Hydur, and looked upon him as a man of such low caste in comparison with herself, that she never allowed him to enter her palace – a virgin queen.
Her sister, Mulka Begum, married her first cousin, Mirza Selim, the son of the emperor, Akbār Shāh; from whom she eloped with Mr James Gardner, and to the latter she was afterwards married. This elopement was the cause of the greatest annoyance and distress to Colonel Gardner, nor did he grant his forgiveness to his son for years afterwards.
Affairs being in so unpleasant a state at the Court of Lucknow was the cause of Lady William Bentinck’s being unable to visit the zenāna; and after her ladyship’s departure, I was prevented going there by the same reason.
One cannot be surprised at a Musulmān taking advantage of the permission given him by his lawgiver with respect to a plurality of wives.
The Prophet himself did not set the best possible example in his own domestic circle, having had eighteen wives! Nevertheless, his code of laws respecting marriage restricted his followers to four wives, besides concubines.
In a book published in England, it is observed, ‘there are some instances of remarkable generosity in the conduct of good wives which would hardly gain credit with females differently educated.’ This, being interpreted, means, a good wife provides new wives for her husband!
The King is very anxious the Resident should patronise Khema Jāh, his adopted son, and is much annoyed he can gain no control over so independent and noble-minded a man.
CHAPTER XIX
THE RETURN TO ALLAHABAD – EXECUTION OF TWENTY-FIVE THUGS