by Fanny Parkes
We anchored at Chandpaul ghāt, amidst a crowd of vessels. The river-beggars fly about in the very smallest little boats in the world, paddled by one tiny oar: a little flag is stuck up in the boat and on a mat at the bottom, spread to receive offerings, is a collection of copper coins, rice and cowries, thrown by the pious or the charitable to these fakīrs; who, if fame belie them not, are rascals. ‘A guru at home, but a beggar abroad.’ I forgive them the sin of rascality, for their picturesque appearance; the gifts they received were very humble. ‘A kuoree is a gold mohur to a pauper.’
There not being room that night for our party at Spence’s hotel, I was forced to sleep on board the budjerow, off Chandpaul ghāt. What a wretched night it was! The heat was intolerable. I could not open a window because the budjerows on either side were jammed against mine: the heat, the noise, the mooring and unmooring according to the state of the tide rendered it miserable work. I wished to anchor lower down, but the answer was ‘Budjerows must anchor here; it is the Lord Sāhib’s hukm (order).’
December 17th – I took possession of apartments in Spence’s hotel: they were good and well furnished. Since I quitted Calcutta a great improvement has taken place: a road has been opened from the Government-house to Garden Reach, by the side of the river; the drive is well-watered, the esplanade crowded with carriages and the view of the shipping beautiful.
M. le Général Allard, who had just returned from France and was in Calcutta en route to rejoin Runjeet Singh, called on me; he is the most picturesque person imaginable; his long forked beard, divided in the centre, hangs down on either side his face; at dinner-time he passes one end of his beard over one ear, and the other end over the other ear. The General, who was a most agreeable person, regretted he had not seen me when he passed Allahabad but illness had prevented his calling and delivering, in person, the bows and arrows entrusted to his charge.
I was much delighted with the General: he asked me to visit Lahore, an invitation I told him I would accept with great pleasure should I ever visit the Hills, and he promised to send an escort for me. The General took with him to Europe some fine jewels, emeralds and other valuable stones; he brought them back to India, as they were of less value in Europe than in the East.
I could have remained contentedly at the hotel myself, but my up-country servants complained there was no comfort for them; therefore I took a small house in Chowringhee, and removed into it the furniture from the budjerow. It was comfortable also to have my horses, which had arrived, in the stables.
Went to a ball given in the English style by a rich Bengāli Baboo, Rustamjee Cowsajee. The Misses Eden were there, which the Baboo ought to have thought a very great honour.
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January 15th 1837 – Accompanied Mr W— and a party over his racing stables: the sight of the racers all ready for the contest in the morning was pleasing. We then visited a number of imported English and Cape horses that were for sale.
In the evening I drove to see the far-famed Bengāli idol Kalī Māī, to which, in former times, human sacrifices were publicly offered; and to which, in the present day and in spite of the vigilance of the magistrate, I believe, at times, a human being is offered up – some poor wretch who has no-one likely to make inquiries about him. The temple is at Kalī Ghāt, about two miles from Calcutta. The idol is a great black stone cut into the figure of an enormous woman, with a large head and staring eyes; her tongue hangs out of her mouth, a great broad tongue down to her breast. The figure is disgusting. I gave the attendant priests a rupee for having shown me their idol, which they offered with all reverence to Kalī Māī. The instruments with which, at one stroke, the priest severs the head of the victim from the trunk are remarkable.
January 16th – A cup of silver, given by a rich Bengāli, Dwarkanāth Tagore, was run for: the cup was elaborately worked and the workmanship good; but the design was in the excess of bad taste and such as only a Baboo would have approved. It was won by Absentee, one of the horses I had seen in the stable the day before, contrary to the calculation of all the knowing ones in Calcutta.
January 17th – The inhabitants of Calcutta gave a ball to the Miss Edens. I was too ill to attend.
January 30th – Dined with an old friend at Alipūr some two miles from Calcutta. The coachman, being unable to see his way across the maidān (plain), stopped. The sā’ises, who were trying to find out where they were, ran directly against the walls of the hospital; the fog was so dense and white you could not see a yard before you; it made my cough most painful, and the carriage was two hours returning two miles.
February 4th – I spent the day at the Asiatic Society. A model of the foot of a Chinese lady in the collection is a curiosity, and a most disgusting deformity. The toes are crushed up under the foot so as to render the person perfectly lame: this is a less expensive mode of keeping a woman confined to the house than having guards and a zenāna – the principle is the same.
Having bid adieu to my friends in Calcutta, I prepared to return to Allahabad and took a passage in the Jellinghy flat. The servants went up the river in a large baggage boat with the stores, wine and furniture. I did not insure the boat, insurance being very high and the time of the year favourable. The horses marched up the country.
March 6th – I went on board the Jellinghy flat, established myself and my ayha in a good cabin and found myself, for the first time, located in a steamer. She quitted Calcutta in the evening, and as we passed Garden Reach, the view of handsome houses in well-wooded grounds which extend along the banks of the river was beautiful. The water being too shallow at this time of the year for the passage of the steamer up the Bhaugruttī, or the Jellinghy, she was obliged to go round by the sunderbands (sindhū-bandh). The steamer herself is not the vessel in which the passengers live; attached to, and towed by her, is a vessel as large as the steamer herself, called a flat, built expressly to convey passengers and Government treasure. It is divided into cabins, with one large cabin in the centre in which the passengers dine together.
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March 9th – Last night two boats full of woodcutters passed us; they said several of their men had been carried off by tigers. We have only overtaken four boats all this time in the sunderbands. During the hot weather people dare not come through this place; fevers are caught from the malaria: at the present time of the year it is safe enough. There are no inhabitants in these parts, the people finding it impossible to live here. We have a very pleasant party on board, most of whom are going to Allahabad. The vessel is a good one; the accommodation good, the food also. It is very expensive, but as it saves one a dāk trip this hot weather, or a two or three months’ voyage in a country vessel, it is more agreeable. The heat in these vile sunderbands is very great; during the day, quite oppressive; when we enter the Ganges we shall find it cooler. As we were emerging from the sunderbands and nearing the river, the banks presented a scene which must resemble the back settlements in America. Before this time we had scarcely met with a good-sized tree. Here the trees partook of the nature of forest: some people were burning the forest and had made a settlement. Barley was growing in small portions and there were several dwarf cows. The scene was peculiar; a little bank of mud was raised to prevent the overflow of the tide; the stumps of the burned and blackened trees remained standing, with the exception of where they had been rooted out and a paddy field formed. Places for look-out erected on high poles were numerous and thatched over: there a man could sit and watch all night, lest a tiger should make his appearance. There were a few miserable huts for the men, no women were to be seen; nothing could be more primitive and more wretched than these young settlements in the sunderbands. On the morning of the 10th we quitted this vile place and anchored at Culna to take in a fresh supply of coals.
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March 26th – Passed Chunar – the place had lost much of the beauty it displayed during the rains. A khidmatgār fell overboard, passed under the vessel from head to stern, and was picked up by the boat just
as he was on the point of sinking. The skin was torn off the old man’s scalp; he received no further injury. The next day, to my astonishment, he was in attendance on his master at dinner-time and seemed to think nothing of having been scalped by the steamer!
March 27th – Received fruit and vegetables from an old friend at Mirzapur. I am weary of the voyage, the heat for the last few days has been so oppressive: very gladly shall I return to the quiet and coolness of my own home. Aground several times on sandbanks.
March 29th – Started early and arrived within sight of the Fort; were again fixed on a sandbank; the river is very shallow at this time of the year. With the greatest difficulty we reached the ghāt on the Jumna, near the Masjid, and were glad to find ourselves at the end of the voyage. My husband came down to receive and welcome me, and drive me home. The great dog Nero nearly tore me to pieces in his delight. Her Highness the Bāiza Bāī sent her people down to the ghāt to make salam on my landing, to welcome and congratulate me on my return, and to say she wished to see me.
It was pleasant to be thus warmly received and to find myself once more in my cool and comfortable home on the banks of the Jumna-ji after all the heat and fatigue of the voyage.
The Brija Bāī, one of the Mahratta ladies, was delighted to see me once again and performed a certain sort of blessing called balaiyā lenā, or taking all another’s evils on one’s self; which ceremony she performed by drawing her hands over my head and cracking her fingers on her own temples, in token of taking all my misfortunes upon herself. This mode of blessing I have many times seen performed both by men and women, our dependants and servants, both towards my husband and myself, on our bestowing any particular benefit upon them; it expressed the depth of their gratitude.
April 6th – The smallpox is making great ravages; some of our friends have fallen victims. Lord William Bentinck did away with the vaccine department to save a few rupees; from which economy many have lost their lives. It is a dreadful illness, the smallpox in this country. People are in a fright respecting the plague; they say it is at Palee, and has approached the borders of the Company’s territories; we have fevers, cholera and deadly illnesses enough without the plague; it is to be trusted that will not be added to the evils of this climate.
The Palee plague, they say, after all, is not the genuine thing: it has not as yet entered our territories; however, the Government of Agra have very wisely adopted preventive measures, and have established boards of health, cordons, and quarantine, with the usual measures as to fumigations and disinfectants. It would be really too bad to give this stranger a playground, in addition to our old friends fever and cholera, already domesticated.
April 15th – The first time of using the thermantidote was this morning: how delightful was the stream of cool air it sent into the hot room! How grateful is the coolness and darkness of the house, in contrast to the heat and glare on the river!
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The Hon. Miss Frances Eden has been with a party at Moorshadabad, tiger shooting; they had indifferent sport and only killed five tigers, one of which had the happiness of dying before the eyes of the fair lady. They have returned to Calcutta. It must have been warm work in the jungles after the tigers; but when one has an object in view, one is apt to forget the power of an Indian sun until a good fever reminds one of the danger of exposure.
April 21st – Last night, at midnight, the moon was completely eclipsed and darkness fell over the land. The natives are horror-struck; they say it foretells sickness, disease and death to a dreadful extent. It is not unlikely their fears may be verified: the plague is raging at Palee; it is expected it will spread ere long to the Company’s territories. Then, indeed, will the natives believe in the direful presages of the eclipse, forgetting the plague was the forerunner not the follower of the signs of wrath in the heavens. Sir Charles Metcalfe has issued all necessary orders to prevent the intercourse of persons from the infected cities with those of the surrounding country. The smallpox is carrying off the young and the healthy; in every part of the country you hear of its fatal effects.
The Brija Bāī, one of the favourite attendants on the Baīza Bāī, came to see me; I showed her a prize I had won in a lottery at Calcutta; a silver vase beautifully enamelled in gold, value £40. She was much pleased with it and anxious to procure tickets in the next lottery for mechanical curiosities.
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April 24th – The Brija came to request I would visit the camp to show them how to use a magic-lantern; I did so, but it was a failure, being dim and indistinct. In the course of conversation, wishing to remember a circumstance related by one of the ladies in attendance, I noted it in my pocketbook on a little slate of white china. Her Highness, who observed the action, asked for the pocketbook, examined it, admired the delicately white china and asking for a pencil wrote her own name upon it. She appeared surprised at my being able to read and write, accomplishments possessed by herself but uncommon among the Mahratta ladies who are seldom able to attain them, it being the system of eastern nations to keep their women in ignorance, imagining it gives them greater power over them. They are taught to consider it unfit for ladies of rank, and that it ought to be done for them by their writers and moonshees; nevertheless, they were proud of the accomplishments possessed by the Bāiza Bāī. Her Highness returned me the pocketbook, which I received with pleasure, and value highly for the sake of the autograph.
All the needlework is done by women in the zenāna: to allow a tailor to make your attire would be considered indelicate, and their clothes are never allowed to be shown to men lest they should thus be able to judge of the form of the lady parda-nishīn, i.e. behind the curtain. Imagine the disgust an Asiatic lady would feel if placed in Regent Street, on beholding figures displayed in shop windows intended to represent English ladies in corsets, bustles and under petticoats, turning round on poles, displaying for the laughter and criticism of the men the whole curious and extraordinary arcana of the toilet of an European!
May 5th – The Bāiza Bāī was unable to get the thirty tickets she sent for in the lottery; eighteen were all that were unsold and these were taken by her. She was very fortunate and won two prizes; one was an ornament in diamonds attached to a necklace of two strings of pearls and a pair of diamond earrings, valued at Rs 2,000, i.e. £200; the second a clock, valued at Rs 400, £40: my own ticket proved a blank. [ … ] The Mahrattas were charmed with [the clock]: it is a good specimen, but they will spoil it in a month.
[An entire chapter is omitted here]
CHAPTER XLV
THE FAMINE AT KANNAUJ
HEALTH ALONE IS EQUAL TO A THOUSAND BLESSINGS
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SEPTEMBER 24th 1837 – The Nawāb Hakīm Menhdi has been re-appointed minister in Oude; how happy the old man must be! He has been living at Fatehgar, pining for a restoration to the honours at Lucknow. The Nawāb quitted for Oude; on the first day of his march, the horse that carried his nakaras (state kettledrums) fell down and died and one of his cannon was upset – both most unlucky omens. The Camp and the Minister were in dismay! To us it is laughable, to the natives a matter of distress. The right to beat kettledrums, and to have them carried before you, is only allowed to great personages. Therefore the omen was fearful; it will be reported at Lucknow, will reach the ears of the King, and perhaps produce a bad effect on his mind – the natives are so superstitious.
The Mahārāj of Gwalior, the Bāiza Bāī’s adopted son who drove her out of the kingdom, announced a few days ago that a son and heir was born unto him. The Resident communicated the happy news to the Government; illuminations took place, guns were fired, every honour paid to the young heir of the throne of Gwalior. The Bāī sent her granddaughter on an elephant in an amārī (a canopied seat), attended by her followers on horseback, to do pooja in the Ganges and to give large presents to the Brahmans. As the Gaja Rājā passed along the road, handfuls of rupees were scattered to the crowd below from the seat on the elephant. Six days after the announcement of th
e birth of a son, the King sent for the Resident and, looking very sheepish, was obliged to confess the son was a daughter! The Resident was much annoyed that his beard had been laughed at; and, in all probability, the King had been deceived by the women in the zenāna: perhaps a son had really been born, and having died, a girl had been substituted – the only child procurable, perhaps, at the moment, or approved of by the mother. A zenāna is the very birthplace of intrigue.
September 30th – I am busy with preparations for a march; perhaps, in my rambles, I shall visit Lucknow, see the new King and my old friend the Nawāb Hakīm Menhdi in all his glory. I should like very much to visit the zenāna for, although the King be about seventy, there is no reason why he may not have a large zenāna, wives of all sorts and kinds – ‘the black, the blue, the brown, the fair’ – for purposes of state and show.
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December 1st – The Governor-General Lord Auckland, the Hon. the Misses Eden and Captain Osborne arrived at Allahabad with all their immense encampment. The gentlemen of the Civil Service and the military paid their respects. Instead of receiving morning visits, the Misses Eden received visitors in the evening, transforming a formal morning call into a pleasant party – a relief to the visitors and the visited.
December 7th – I made my salam to Miss Eden at her tents; she told me she was going to visit her Highness the Bāiza Bāī with the Governor-General, asked me to accompany her and to act as interpreter to which I consented with pleasure.