Begums, Thugs and White Mughals

by Fanny Parkes

  Colonel Gardner’s name is William Linnaeus, so called after his godfather, the great botanist; he is himself an excellent botanist and pursues the study with much ardour. His garden at Khasganj is a very extensive and a most delightful one, full of fine trees and rare plants, beautiful flowers and shrubs, with fruit in abundance and perfection; no expense is spared to embellish the garden: in the centre is a delightful pavilion under the shade of fine trees. It is one of the pleasures of the begum and her attendants to spend the day in that garden: guards are then stationed around it to prevent intrusion. She is herself extremely fond of flowers and, although not a botanist after the European fashion, she knows the medicinal qualities of all the Indian plants and the dyes that can be produced from them; and this knowledge is of daily account in the zenāna.

  March 1st – Took a gallop on a fine English horse, Rattler by name; being accustomed to ride Arabs, this great monster appeared like a frisky mountain under me.

  March 2nd – Mr James Gardner invited us to return to his house at Kutchowra, that we might enjoy chīta hunting. We drove over and in the evening some nāch women exhibited before us for our amusement.

  March 3rd – In the early morning I mounted a white pony and we all rode out eight miles to breakfast in a tent which had been sent out over night. After breakfast the party got into the buggies.

  We went directly across the country; there were no roads, over banks and through ditches, where it appeared a miracle we were not upset. We came to a deep, narrow, stone watercourse, my companion said, ‘If you will get out of the buggy, I will leap the mare over; if I attempt to walk her over, she will be sure to get her foot in and break her leg.’ I got out accordingly; away went the mare; she took a leap at the drain and carried the buggy over in excellent style. Buggies in India have the remarkable faculty of leaping, being accustomed to such freaks.

  We arrived at the estate of a native gentleman called Petumber where, on the plain, we saw a herd of about three hundred antelopes, bounding, running and playing in the sunshine; and a severe sun it was, enough to give one a brain fever, in spite of the leather hood of the buggy. The antelopes are so timid, they will not allow a buggy to come very near the herd; therefore being determined to see the hunt, we got out of the carriage and mounted upon the hackery (cart) on which the chīta was carried without even an umbrella, lest it should frighten the deer. The chīta had a hood over his eyes and a rope round his loins and two natives, his keepers, were with him.

  I sat down by accident on the animal’s tail: O–o–o–wh, growled the chīta. I did not wait for another growl, but released his tail instantly. The bullock hackery was driven into the midst of the herd. The bandage was removed from the eyes of the chīta, and the cord from his body: he dropped from the cart and bounded, with the most surprising bounds, towards an immense black buck, seized him by the throat, flung him on the ground, and held him there. The keepers went up, they cut the buck’s throat and then they cut off the haunch of the hind leg and, dipping a wooden spoon into the cavity, offered it full of blood to the chīta. Nothing but this would have induced the chīta to quit the throat of the buck. He followed the men to the cart, jumped upon it, drank the blood and the men then put his bandage over his eyes. The haunch was put into the back of the cart, the reward for the animal when the hunting was over. The herd had passed on; we followed, taking care the wind did not betray our approach. The chīta was leaning against me in the hackery and we proceeded very sociably. Another herd of antelopes went bounding near us, the chīta’s eyes were unbound again and the rope removed from his loins; a fine buck passed, we expected he would instantly pursue it as usual, but the animal turned sulky and instead of dropping down from the hackery, he put both his forepaws on my lap and stood there two or three seconds with his face and whiskers touching my cheek. O–o–o–wh, O–o–o–wh, growled the chīta! – my heart beat faster, but I sat perfectly quiet, as you may well imagine, whilst I thought to myself: ‘If he seize my throat, he will never leave it until they cut off my hind quarter, and give him a bowl of blood!’ His paws were as light on my lap as those of a cat. How long the few seconds appeared whilst I eyed him askance! Nor was I slightly glad when the chīta dropped to the ground, where he crouched down sulkily and would not hunt. He was a very fine-tempered animal but they are all uncertain. I did not like his being quite so near when he was unfastened and sulky.

  The next time I took care to get off the cart before the creature was freed from restraint. It is painful to witness a chīta hunt, the beautiful antelope has so little chance of escape.

  During the day, we killed three fine antelopes; the horns of one of them, remarkably large, with five turns on them, I brought to England. We rested under some trees by a well to partake of tiffin when one of the party observed, ‘This wood and well are remarkable. Heera Sing, the father of Petumber, was a Thug, and made by Thuggee a large fortune. In this plantation and by the side of this very well his people used to wait for travellers, lure them to the shade and water to refresh themselves, strangle them and cast their bodies into the well.

  ‘After having amassed a fortune, Heera Sing repented and gave orders that life should not be taken on his estate. He would not allow the antelopes to be killed; and his son having followed his example accounts for the large herds of antelopes we have found here: it is an excellent preserve.’ We then returned home; I was almost dead with the heat, having been out in such a powerful sun during a drive of about thirty miles.

  Mulka Begum sometimes goes out chīta hunting in a native carriage, drawn by two magnificent bullocks adorned with crimson housings, and their horns covered with plates of gold.

  In this manner the princess can behold the sport and enter into the amusement, while she is completely secluded from the profane eye of men.

  CHAPTER XXXIV

  FATEHPUR SIKRI AND COLONEL GARDNER

  MARCH 1835 – 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 Khasganj 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, Bokhara, the grey and black horse, to accompany me to Khasganj. The dāk trip gave me a severe cough and cold and on my reaching Agra I was little fit for exertion.

  [ … ]

  Extract from the Asiatic Journal of October 1844 ‘Sketches of remarkable characters in India: No. 1 Colonel Gardner – and the Begum 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 Residency, 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 Begum Sumroo and of Colonel Gardner, of Khasganj, 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 begum, 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 circum
stances 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 Lucknow, he wore a blue surtout, resembling the undress uniform of the British army but profusely ornamented with silk lace.

  ‘Colonel Gardner, who is a connection 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 Rs 4,000 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 Mohammedan 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 connection. The marriage of Colonel Gardner seems perfectly satisfactory to the people of Hindustan; for the lady has not only continued steadfast to the Mohammedan 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 connections 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 begums, 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 Mohammedan 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 Khasganj 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.’