Begums, Thugs and White Mughals

by Fanny Parkes

  DEPARTURE FROM ALLAHABAD

  NOVEMBER 1838 – On my first arrival at Allahabad I thought I should never get through all the arrangements necessary before my departure for England; so many farewell visits were to be paid to my old friends, and so many preparations were to be made for the voyage. Her Highness the Bāiza Bāī was still at Allahabad, and she sent for me. One of the Italian greyhounds given me by Captain Osborne having died, I took the other two and presented them to the Gaja Rājā Sāhib, the young princess having expressed a wish to have one: I gave her also a black terrier and one of King Charles’s spaniels.

  One day a Mahratta lady came to my house, riding en cavalier on a camel, which she managed apparently with the greatest ease; she told me her Highness requested I would call immediately upon her. On my arrival in camp, after the ceremony of meeting had passed, the Bāiza Bāī said, ‘You are going to England – will you procure for me three things? The first is a perfectly high caste Arabian mare; secondly, a very, very little dog, just like a ball, covered with long hair, perfectly white and having red eyes; and thirdly, a mechanical figure that, standing on a slack rope with a pole in its hand, balances itself, and moves in time to the music that plays below it.’

  I thought of the fairy tales, in which people are sent to roam the world in search of marvellous curiosities, and found myself as much perplexed as was ever a knight of old by the commands of a fairy. The Bāī added, ‘You know a good Arab, I can trust your judgment in the selection, the little dogs, they say, come from Bombay: you can bring them all with you in the ship on your return.’

  I informed her Highness that very few Arabs were in England; that in her Majesty’s stud there were some, presents from Eastern Princes, who were not likely to part with the apple of their eyes: that I did not think an Arab mare was to be had in the country. With respect to the little powder-puff dog with the red eyes, I would make enquiries: and the mechanical figure could be procured from Paris.

  A few days after this visit one of her ladies called on me, and the following conversation ensued:

  Mahratta Lady – ‘You are going to England – you will be absent eighteen months or two years – have you arranged all your household affairs? You know how much interest I take in your welfare; I hope you have made proper arrangements.’

  I assured her I had.

  ‘Yes, yes, with respect to the household, that is all very well; but with respect to your husband, what arrangement have you made? It is the custom with us Mahrattas, if a wife quit her husband, for her to select and depute another lady to remain with him during her absence – have you selected such a one?’

  ‘No,’ said I, with the utmost gravity; ‘such an arrangement never occurred to me – will you do me the honour to supply my place?’

  She laughed and shook her head. ‘I suppose you English ladies would only select one wife; a Mahratta would select two to remain with her husband during her absence.’

  I explained to her the opinions of the English on such subjects: our ideas appeared as strange to her as hers were to me; and she expressed herself grieved that I should omit what they considered a duty.

  November 27th – I called on the ex-Queen of Gwalior and took leave in all due form; the dear old lady was very sorry to part with me – the tears ran down her cheeks and she embraced me over and over again. I was sincerely grieved to part with her Highness, with whom and in whose camp I had passed so many happy hours, amused with beholding native life and customs and witnessing their religious ceremonies. The next day she sent me the complimentary farewell dinner, which it is the custom to present to a friend on departure: I partook of some of the Mahratta dishes, in which, to suit my taste, they had omitted musk or assafoetida; the cookery was good; pān, atr, and rose-water, as usual, ended the ceremony.

  Those ladies who are kind enough to support and educate the orphan children of natives are startled at times by curious occurrences. A lady at this station lately married one of her orphans to a drummer in the 72nd regiment, and gave Rs 20 as a portion; the man was drunk for about a week; in a fortnight he made over his wife to another drummer, and in a month came to the lady saying, ‘If you please, Ma’am, I should like to marry again.’ ‘Why, John Strong, you were married a few days ago!’ ‘Yes, Ma’am, but I made over she to my comrade.’ Imagine the lady’s amazement and horror! The man John Strong went away and told his officers he thought he had been very ill-used. The man was a half-caste Christian, the girl a converted native.

  [ … ]

  November 28th – My friend Mrs B— and her four children arrived; she is to accompany me to Calcutta: and a manis has been sent me to add to my collection.

  December 1st – We quitted Allahabad, and proceeded down the river, calling on those friends en passant of whom I wished to take leave. At Mirzapur the head of a ravine deer was given me. Off Patna a quantity of arwarī fish were brought alongside for breakfast; they were delicious; the remainder we had smoked in shakar and chokar – that is, coarse sugar and wheat bran: let no one neglect this economical luxury – the smoked arwarī are delicious.

  December 17th – Both the boys being very ill of fever, we hastened on for medical assistance. At night, as Mrs B—was quitting my boat to go to her own, passing down the plank, it upset and she was thrown into the river; it was as deep as her waist; the night was dark and the stream strong; she was saved by a bearer’s catching her gown as she was sinking; fortunately the bearer was in attendance, carrying a lantern. The rest of the people were on the shore eating their dinners, which they had just cooked. I called to the dāndīs to assist, not a man would stir; they were not six yards from he and saw her fall into the river. I reprimanded them angrily, to which they coolly answered, ‘We were eating our dinners, what could we do?’ Natives are apathetic with respect to all things, with the exception of rupees and khānā-pīnā – that is, ‘meat and drink’.

  December 18th – To avoid the return of the accident of yesterday, this evening our vessels were lashed together; I went to my friend’s boat to see the poor boys who were delirious; on my return I did not see that the hold of my boat was open; the shadows deceived me in the uncertain light and meaning to jump from the railing of her vessel upon the deck of my own, I took a little spring and went straight down the hold: falling sideways with my waist across a beam, the breath was beaten out of my body for a moment and there I hung like the sign of the golden fleece. The people came to my assistance and brought me up again; it was fortunate the beam stopped my further descent. I was bathed with hot water, and well rubbed with dēodar oil, which took off the pain and stiffness very effectually.

  [ … ]

  December 31st – Quitted Berhampūr. I have suffered so much during the last twelvemonth from the death of relatives and friends, that I now bid adieu to the past year without regret. May the new one prove happier than the last!

  CHAPTER LIV

  ARRIVAL IN CALCUTTA – THE MADAGASCAR

  JANUARY 1ST 1839 – We flew down the river on a powerful wind until we reached Cutwa, where we moored, to purchase a gāgrā, a brass vessel for holding water; gāgrās and lotas are manufactured at this place, as are also churīs, bracelets made of the sankh, the conch shell which the Hindus blow. These churīs are beautifully white, very prettily ornamented, and are worn in sets: above them, some of the women wore immense bracelets of silver or of pewter, according to the rank of the wearer; those bracelets stand up very high, and the pewter ones shine like silver, from being scrubbed with sand daily in the river. At this place a number of people were bathing; one of the Bengalī women was remarkably well formed, my attention was attracted by the beauty of her figure; her skin was of a clear dark brown, with which her ornaments of red coral well contrasted; her dress, the long white sarī hanging in folds of graceful drapery around her; but her face was so ugly, it was quite provoking – so plain a face united to so well-formed a figure.

  January 2nd – At Nuddea the tide was perceptible, and the smell of the burnt bodies on t
he opposite side of the river most annoying.

  January 3rd – Anchored at Culwa, to get the wooden anchor filled with mud and bound up with ropes; the process was simple and curious, but it took five hours to accomplish the work. Bamboos were tied to the cross of the anchor, which was of heavy wood – a bit of old canvas was put inside, and filled with lumps of strong clay – the bamboos were then pressed together, and the whole bound with ropes; a very primitive affair. I had a new cable made before quitting Prāg – a necessary precaution; for unless you have it done beforehand they will detain you at Culwa to do it, as the hemp is a little cheaper there than in the up-country, and the mānjhīs do not care for the annoyance the detention of three or four days may occasion. At Culwa I saw a shocking sight: a dying Bengalī woman was lying on a mat by the river side, her head supported by a pillow, and a woman sitting at her side was fanning her with a pankha. At a certain time the body is laid in the water up to the waist, prayers are repeated; and at the moment of dying the mud of the holy Ganges is stuffed into the nose and mouth, and the person expires in the fullness of righteousness. My people told me that if the woman did not die by night-time, it was very likely they would stuff her nose and mouth a little too soon with the holy mud, and expedite her journey rather too quickly to another world! The Hindus, up-country men, who were with me, were disgusted with the Bengalee customs, and violent in their abuse. Should she recover she will take refuge, an outcast in the village of Chagdah.

  We anchored at Santipūr. The water of the river at the ghāt was covered with drops of oil, from its being a bathing-place, and the Bengalīs having the custom of anointing their bodies daily with oil.

  A chaprāsī of mine, seeing a skull, struck it with a bamboo and cursed it.

  ‘Why did you strike and curse the skull?’ said I.

  ‘It is a vile Bengalī skull; and those sons of slaves, when we ask a question, only laugh and give no answer.’

  ‘Perhaps they do not understand your up-country language.’

  ‘Perhaps not, that may be the reason; but we hate them.’

  January 6th – Two miles above Calcutta: the day was fine, the wind very heavy, but favourable: the view of the shipping beautiful; I enjoyed it until I remembered my crew were up-country men, from Hurdwar, who had never seen the sea and knew not the force of the tides. We drifted with fearful velocity through the shipping; they threw the anchor overboard, but it would not hold; and away we went, our great unwieldy boat striking first one ship then another; at length a gentleman, seeing our danger as we were passing his pinnace, threw a rope on board, which the men seized and, having fastened it, brought up the vessel. All this time I was on deck, under a burning sun, and we did not anchor until twelve noon; consequently that night I was very ill, the beating in my head fearfully painful, and I fainted away three times; but it was of no consequence, I was in the hands of a kind friend, and soon recovered.

  January 9th – The ships lie close to the drive near the Fort, and visiting them is amusement for a morning. I went on board the Earl of Hardwicke – she could not accommodate me; thence I proceeded to the Madagascar, and took one of the lower stern cabins for myself, for which I was to give Rs 2,500; and a smaller cabin, at Rs 1,300 for my friend’s three children, who were to accompany me to England. At the same time I engaged an European woman to attend upon me and the young ones. Going to sea is the only chance for the poor boys, after the severe fever they had on the river, from the effects of which they are still suffering.

  The larboard stern cabin suits me remarkably well; it is very spacious, sufficient to contain a number of curiosities; and before the windows I have arranged a complete forest of the horns of the buffalo, the stag and the antelope.

  January 20th – A steamer towed the Madagascar down the river, and the pilot quitted us on the 22nd, from which moment we reckoned the voyage actually commenced; it is not counted from Calcutta, but from the Sandheads, when the pilot gives over the vessel to the captain, and takes his departure. Suddu Khān, my old khānsāmān, who had accompanied me thus far now returned with the pilot: the old man must have been half-starved, he would eat nothing on board but a little parched grain, and slept outside my cabin-door; he is an excellent servant, and says he will take the greatest care of the sāhib until my return.

  I suffered severely at the Sandheads from mal de mer, on account of the heavy ground-swell; perhaps no illness is more distressing – to complain is useless and only excites laughter; no concern on the subject is ever felt or expressed. Why is blind man’s buff like sympathy?

  Let no one be tempted to take a lower stern cabin; mine was one of the largest and best, with three windows and two ports; nevertheless it was very hot, the wind could not reach it; it was much less comfortable than a smaller cabin would have been on the poop.

  January 30th – Very little wind in the early morning; during the day a dead calm – very hot and oppressive. How a calm tries the temper! Give me any squall you please, but spare me a calm.

  January 31st – The ship rolling and pitching most unmercifully; there is scarcely wind enough to move her; she lies rolling and pitching as if she would send her masts overboard; thermometer 87° – the heat is most distressing – no wind: caught a shark and a sucking fish.

  February 1st – Thermometer 87°, the heat is distressing: a return voyage is much hotter than one from England. Captain Walker is very attentive to his passengers; he keeps an excellent table and every thing is done to render them comfortable. We have sixty invalids on board – wretched-looking men; one of them, when the ship was going seven knots an hour, threw himself overboard; a rope was thrown out, to which he clung, and they drew him in again; he came up sober enough, which it was supposed he was not when he jumped overboard. Fortunate was it for the man that the voracious shark we afterwards caught, whose interior was full of bones, did not make his acquaintance in the water.

  March 4th – The morning was fine, the sea heavy, and we came in delightfully towards the Cape: the mountains of Africa were beautiful, with the foaming breakers rushing and sounding at their base. The lighthouse and green point, with its white houses, were pleasing objects. The view as you enter the Cape is certainly very fine: the mountains did not appear very high to my eye, accustomed to the everlasting snows of the Himalaya, but they are wild, bold and picturesque, rising directly from the sea – and such a fine, unquiet, foaming and roaring sea as it is! The Devil’s Peak, the Lion, and Table Mountain were all in high beauty; not a cloud was over them. The wreck of the Juliana lay near the lighthouse; and the Trafalgar was also there, having been wrecked only a week before.

  March 5th – Breakfasted at the George Hotel; fresh bread and butter was a luxury. Drove to Wineburgh to see a friend, and not finding him at home we consoled ourselves with making a tiffin – that is, luncheon – on the deliciously fine white water grapes from his garden. Proceeded to Constantia, called on a Dutch lady; the owner of the vineyard, whose name I forget; she, her husband, and daughter were very civil, and offered us refreshment. We walked over the vineyard; the vines are cut down to the height of a gooseberry bush, short and stumpy; the blue grapes were hanging on them half dried up, and many people were employed picking off the vine leaves, to leave the bunches more exposed to the sun; the taste of the fruit was very luscious, and a few grapes were sufficient, they were too cloying, too sweet. They told us it took an amazing quantity of grapes to make the Constantia, so little juice being extracted in consequence of their first allowing the bunches to become so dry upon the vine; but as that juice was of so rich a quality, it rendered the Constantia proportionably expensive. The old Dutchman took us up a ladder into an oak tree, in which benches were fixed all round the trunk; he took great pride in the breadth of it, and the little verdant room formed of the branches was his favourite place for smoking. The acorns I picked up were remarkably large, much larger than English acorns. Oaks grow very quickly at the Cape, three times as fast as in England; but the wood is not so good and they send to Eng
land for the wood for the wine-casks, which is sent out ready to be put together; they think their wine too valuable for the wood at the Cape. There was no wine-making going on at the time, but the lovers of Constantia may feel some disgust at knowing that the juice is pressed out by trampling of the grapes in a tub – an operation performed by the naked feet of the Africanders, who are not the most cleanly animals on earth.

  How much the freshness of the foliage and the beauty of the country through which we drove delighted me! The wild white geranium and the myrtle were both in flower in the hedges. After a sea-voyage we devoured the vegetables, the fish and the fruit, like children turned loose amongst dainties.

  Our voyage from Calcutta to the Cape had been a very fine one – forty-two days; the shortest period in which it has been accomplished was thirty-one days by a French vessel. The mal de mer that had made me miserable from the time the pilot quitted us never left me until we were within four or five days’ sail of the Cape; then image to yourself the delight with which I found myself on shore. Eatables – such as sardines, anchovies, etc. – are more reasonable than in Calcutta; one shilling is equivalent to a rupee. Visited a shop where there is a good collection of stuffed birds; bought a Butcher bird – it catches its prey, sticks it upon a thorn and devours it at leisure: small birds are one shilling each; but I know not if they are prepared with arsenical soap, like those to be purchased at Landowr. No good ostrich feathers were to be had at the Europe shops: there is a shop, kept by a Dutchwoman, near the landing-place, where the best – the uncleaned ostrich feathers – are sometimes to be bought; the price about five guineas per pound. My man-servant gave twenty shillings for eighteen very fine large long feathers in the natural state, and he told me he made a great profit by selling them in town.

  [ … ]

  March 7th – Quitted Cape Town on a fine and powerful wind; we were all in good spirits; the change had done us good and we had gathered fresh patience – the worst part of the voyage was over – for a man in bad health what a trial is that voyage from Calcutta to the Cape!