Observations on the Mussulmauns of India by Mrs. Meer Hassan AliDescriptive of their manners, customs, habits, and religious opinions made during a twelve years’ residence in their immediate society. (page 6)

ecstasy of delight, exclaiming, “They are come! they are come!”–and on the Moonshie turning quickly round, he was not a little staggered to find three small snakes on the ground, at no great distance from the men, who, he was convinced, had not moved from the place. They seemed to have no dread of the reptiles, and accounted for it by saying they were invulnerable to the snakes’ venom; the creatures were then fearlessly seized one by one by the men, and finally deposited in their basket.

‘”They appear very tame,” thought the Moonshie, as he observed the men’s actions: “I am outwitted at last, I believe, with all my boasted vigilance; but I will yet endeavour to find them out.–Friend,” said he aloud, “here is your reward,” holding the promised money towards the principal; “take it, and away with you both; the snakes are mine, and I shall not allow you to remove them hence.”

‘”Why, Sahib,” replied the man, “what will you do with the creatures? they cannot be worth your keeping; besides, it is the dustoor[45] (custom); we always have the snakes we catch for our perquisite.”–“It is of no consequence to you, friend, how I may dispose of the snakes,” said the Moonshie; “I am to suppose they have been bred in my house, and having done no injury to my people, I may be allowed to have respect for their forbearance; at any rate, I am not disposed to part with these guests, who could have injured me if they would.”

‘The principal samp-wallah, perceiving it was the Moonshie’s intention to detain the snakes, in a perfect agony of distress for the loss he was likely to sustain, then commenced by expostulation, ending with threats and abuse, to induce the Moonshie to give them up; who, for his part, kept his temper within bounds, having resolved in his own mind not to be outwitted a second time; the fellow’s insolence and impertinent speeches were, therefore, neither chastised nor resented. The samp-wallah strove to wrest the basket from the Moonshie’s strong grasp, without succeeding; and when he found his duplicity was so completely exposed, he altered his course, and commenced by entreaties and supplications, confessing at last, with all humility, that the reptiles were his own well-instructed snakes that he had let loose to catch again at pleasure. Then appealing to the Moonshie’s well-known charitable temper, besought him that the snakes might be restored, as by their aid he earned his precarious livelihood.

‘”That they are yours, I cannot doubt,” replied the Moonshie, “and, therefore, my conscience will not allow me to detain them from you; but the promised reward I of course keep back. Your insolence and duplicity deserve chastisement, nevertheless I promise to forgive you, if you will explain to me how you managed to introduce these snakes.”

‘The man, thankful that he should escape without further loss or punishment, showed the harmless snakes, which, it appears, had been deprived of their fangs and poison, and were so well instructed and docile, that they obeyed their keeper as readily as the best-tutored domestic animal. They coiled up their supple bodies into the smallest compass possible, and allowed their keeper to deposit them each in a separate bag of calico, which was fastened under his wrapper, where it would have been impossible, the Moonshie declares, for the quickest eye to discover that anything was secreted.’

‘Sickley ghur'[46] (Cutler and knife-grinder).–These most useful artisans are in great request, polishing articles of rusty steel, giving a new edge to the knives, scissors, razors, or swords of their employer, in a masterly manner, for a very small price.

‘Dhie cuttie'[47] (Sour curds).–This article is in great request by scientific cooks, who use it in many of their dainty dishes. The method of making sour curd is peculiarly Indian: it is made of good sweet milk, by some secret process which I could never acquire, and in a few hours the whole is coagulated to a curd of a sharp acidity, that renders it equally useful with other acids in flavouring their curries. The Natives use it with pepper, pounded green ginger, and the shreds of pumpkins or radishes, as a relish to their savoury dishes, in lieu of chatnee; it is considered cooling in its quality, and delicious as an accompaniment to their favourite viands.

‘Mullie'[48] (Clotted cream).—This article is much esteemed by the Natives. I was anxious to know how clotted cream could be procured at seasons when milk from the cow would be sour in a few hours, and am told that the milk when brought in fresh from the dairy is placed over the fire in large iron skillets; the skin (as we call it on boiled milk) is taken off with a skimmer, and placed in a basket, which allows all the milk to be drained from it; the skin again engendered on the surface is taken off in the same way, and so they continue, watching and skimming until the milk has nearly boiled away. This collection of skin is the clotted cream of Hindoostaun.

‘Mukhun'[49] (Butter).–Butter is very partially used by the Natives; they use ghee, which is a sort of clarified butter, chiefly produced from the buffalo’s milk. The method of obtaining butter in India is singular to a European. The milk is made warm over the fire, then poured into a large earthen jar, and allowed to stand for a few hours. A piece of bamboo is split at the bottom, and four small pieces of wood inserted as stretchers to these splits. A leather strap is twisted over the middle of the bamboo, and the butter-maker with this keeps the bamboo in constant motion; the particles of butter swimming at the top are taken off and thrown into water, and the process of churning is resumed; this method continues until by the quantity collected, these nice judges have ascertained there is no more butter remaining in the milk. When the butter is to be sold, it is beaten up into round balls out of the water. When ghee is intended to be made, the butter is simmered over a slow fire for a given time, and poured into the ghee pot, which perhaps may contain the produce of the week before they convey it to the market for sale; in this state the greasy substance will keep good for months, but in its natural state, as butter, the second day it is offensive to have it in the room, much less to be used as an article of food.

‘Burruff wallah'[50] (The man with ice).–The ice is usually carried about in the evening, and considered a great indulgence by the Natives. The ice-men bring round both iced creams, and sherbet ices, in many varieties; some flavoured with oranges, pomegranates, pine-apple, rose-water, &c.

They can produce ices at any season, by saltpetre, which is here abundant and procured at a small price; but strange as it may appear, considering the climate, we have regular collections of ice made in January, in most of the stations in the Upper Provinces, generally under the superintendence of an English gentleman, who condescends to be the comptroller. The expenses are paid by subscribers, who, according to the value of their subscription, are entitled to a given quantity of ice, to be conveyed by each person’s servant from the deposit an hour before day-break, in baskets made for the purpose well wadded with cotton and woollen blankets; conveyed home, the basket is placed where neither air nor light can intrude. Zinc bottles, filled with pure water, are placed round the ice in the basket, and the water is thus cooled for the day’s supply, an indulgence of great value to the sojourners in the East.

The method of collecting ice is tedious and laborious, but where labour is cheap and the hands plenty the attempt has always been repaid by the advantages. As the sun declines, the labourers commence their work; flat earthen platters are laid out, in exposed situations, in square departments, upon dried sugar-cane leaves very lightly spread, that the frosty air may pass inside the platters. A small quantity of water is poured into the platter; as fast as they freeze their contents are collected and conveyed, during the night, to the pit prepared for the reception of ice. The rising sun disperses the labourers with the ice, and they seek their rest by day, and return again to their employ; as the lion, when the sun disappears, prowls out to seek his food from the bounty of his Creator. The hoar frost seldom commences until the first of January, and lasts throughout that month.

‘Roshunie'[51] (Ink).—Ink, that most useful auxiliary in rendering the thoughts of one mortal serviceable to his fellow-creatures through many ages, is here an article of very simple manufacture. The composition is prepared from lampblack and gum-arabic; how it is made, I have yet to learn.

The ink of the Natives is not durable; with a wet sponge may be erased the labour of a man’s life. They have not yet acquired the art of printing,[52] and as they still write with reeds instead of feathers, an ink, permanent as our own, is neither agreeable nor desirable.

There is one beautiful trait in the habits of the Mussulmauns: when about to write they not only make the prayer which precedes every important action of their lives, but they dedicate the writing to God, by a character on the first page, which, as in short-hand writing, implies the whole sentence.[53] A man would be deemed heathenish amongst Mussulmauns, who by neglect or accident omitted this mark on whatever subject he is about to write.

Another of their habits is equally praiseworthy:–out of reverence for God’s holy name (always expressed in their letters) written paper to be destroyed is first torn and then washed in water before the whole is scattered abroad; they would think it a sinful act to burn a piece of paper on which that Holy name has been inscribed. How often have I reflected whilst observing this praiseworthy feature in the character of a comparatively unenlightened people, on the little respect paid to the sacred writings amongst a population who have had greater opportunities of acquiring wisdom and knowledge.[54]

The culpable habit of chandlers in England is fresh in my memory, who without a scruple tear up Bibles and religious works to parcel out their pounds of butter and bacon, without a feeling of remorse on the sacrilege they have committed.

How careless are children in their school-days of the sacred volume which contains the word of God to His creatures. Such improper uses, I might say abuses, of that Holy Book, would draw upon them the censure of a people who have not benefited by the contents, but who nevertheless respect the volume purely because it speaks the word ‘of that God whom they worship’.

‘Mayndhie’ (A shrub).–The mayndhie and its uses have been so fully explained in the letters on Mahurrum, that I shall here merely remark, that the shrub is of quick growth, nearly resembling the small-leafed myrtle; the Natives make hedge-rows of it in their grounds, the blossom is very simple, and the shrub itself hardy: the dye is permanent.

‘Sulmah.'[55]–A prepared permanent black dye, from antimony. This is used with hair-pencils to the circle of the eye at the root of the eye-lashes by the Native ladies and often by gentlemen, and is deemed both of service to the sight and an ornament to the person. It certainly gives the appearance of large eyes, if there can be any beauty in altering the natural countenance, which is an absurd idea, in my opinion. Nature is perfect in all her works; and whatever best accords with each feature of a countenance I think she best determines; I am sure that no attempt to disguise or alter Nature in the human face ever yet succeeded, independent of the presumption in venturing to improve that which in His wisdom, the Creator has deemed sufficient.

It would occupy my pages beyond the limits I can conveniently spare to the subject, were I to pursue remarks on the popular cries of a Native city to their fullest extent; scarcely any article that is vended at the bazaars, but is also hawked about the streets. This is a measure of necessity growing out of the state of Mussulmaun society, by which the females are enabled to purchase at their own doors all that can be absolutely requisite for domestic purposes, without the obligation of sending to the markets or the shops, when either not convenient, or not agreeable. And the better to aid both purchasers and venders, these hawkers pronounce their several articles for sale, with voices that cannot fail to impress the inhabitants enclosed within high walls, with a full knowledge of the articles proclaimed without need of interpreters.

[1] _Dukan_.

[2] _Tatti_.

[3] See pp. 57, 173, 174.

[4] The fat of meat is never eaten by the Natives, who view our joints of meat with astonishment, bordering on disgust. [_Author_.]

[5] Many Hindoostaunie dishes require the meat to be finely minced. [_Author_.]

[6] Known as _gargarasaz_.

[7] Baniya.

[8] _Sarraf_.

[9]: Cowries are small shells imported from the Eastern isles, which pass in India as current coin, their value fluctuating with the price of corn, from, sixty to ninety for one pice. [_Author_.]

[10] _Hundi_.

[11] _Dasturi_.

[12] _Sipiwala gila sukha_.

[13] _Jonk_, a leech; _kira_, a worm, _laganewali_.

[14] _Kan saf karnewala_: more usually _Kanmailiya, kan_, the ear; _maila_, dirt.

[15] _Gota, chandni bikau_, silver lace to sell! The dealer is _Gota, kinari farosh_.

[16] _Tel ka acharwala_.

[17] _Mithaiwala_.

[18] _Khilaunewala_.

[19] _Abrak_, talc.

[20] _Pankahwala_.

[21] _Tar_, the palmyra palm.

[22] _Tarkari, mewa_.

[23] _Sag_.

[24] _Chitra_, spotted, speckled.

[25] Quicksilver is used by Native physicians as the first of alternative tonics.

[26] _Machhli_.

[27] Being considered to be like snakes.

[28] _Rohu_, a kind of carp, _Labeo rohita_.

[29] _Chiryawala_.

[30] _Bulbul, Daulias hafizi_, the true Persian nightingale.

[31] _Sabza, sabzak_, green bird, usually a jay, _coracias_.

[32] A shrike, one of the _laniadae_.

[33] _Maina_, a starling, _Aeridotheres tristis_.

[34] The black cuckoo, _Eudynamys orientalis_.

[35] The note of the bird at night, detested by Anglo-Indians, gives it the name of the brain-fever bird.

[36] _Lal, Estrelda amandava_, the avadavat, is so called because it was brought to Europe from Ahmadabad.

[37] _Atishbazi_, fire-play.

[38] Holi, the spring festival of the Hindus, at which bonfires are lighted, coloured water thrown about, and much obscenity is practiced.

[39] See p. 161.

[40] _Chabena, chabeni_, what is munched or chewed (_chabna_).

[41] _Tamashawala: tamashabin_, a spectator of wonders.

[42] _Sampwala_.

[43] ‘Mr. Secretary.’

[44] It is generally believed snakes do not live apart from their species; if one is destroyed in a house, a second is anticipated and generally discovered. [_Author_.]

[45] _Dastur, dasturi_, the percentage appropriated on purchase by servants.

[46] _Saiqalgar_, corrupted into _sikligar_, a polisher.

[47] _Dahi khatai_. There is no mystery about the preparation. Milk is boiled and soured by being poured into an earthen vessel in which curds have previously been kept. Sometimes, but less frequently, an acid or rennet is added to precipitate the solid ingredients of the milk.

[48] _Malai_.

[49] _Makkhan_.

[50] _Burfwala_.

[51] _Roshanai_, ‘brightness’, made of lampblack, gum-arabic, and aloe juice. Elaborate prescriptions are given by Jaffur Shurreef (_Qanoon-e-Islam_ 150 f.).

[52] Lithography and printing are now commonly done by natives.

[53] Letters usually begin with, the invocation, _Bi’-smi’illahi’r-rahmani’r-rahim_, ‘In the name of Allah, the Compassionate, the Merciful.’ The monogram ‘I’ is often substituted, as being the initial of Allah, and the first letter of the alphabet.

[54] If the Koran were wrapped in a skin and thrown into fire, it would not burn, say the Traditions (Hughes, _Dictionary of Islam_, 521). Compare the care taken by the Chinese to save paper on which writing appears (J.H. Gray, _China_, i. 178).

[55] _Surma_, a black ore of antimony, a tersulphide found in the Panjab, often confused by natives with galena, and most of that sold in bazars is really galena. It is used as a tonic to the nerves of the eye, and to strengthen the sight.

LETTER XVII

Seclusion of Females.–Paadshah Begum.–The Suwaarree.–Female Bearers.–Eunuchs.–Rutts.–Partiality of the Ladies to Large retinues.–Female Companions.–Telling the Khaunie.–Games of the Zeenahnah.–Shampooing.–The Punkah.–Slaves and slavery.–Anecdote.–The Persian Poets.–Fierdowsee.–Saadie, his ‘Goolistaun’.–Haafiz.–Mahumud Baarkur.–‘Hyaatool Kaaloob’.–Different manner of pronouncing Scripture names…Page 248

The strict seclusion which forms so conspicuous a feature in the female society of the Mussulmauns in India, renders the temporary migration of ladies from their domicile an event of great interest to each individual of the zeenahnah, whether the mistress or her many dependants be considered.

The superior classes seldom quit their habitation but on the most important occasions; they, therefore, make it a matter of necessity to move out in such style as is most likely to proclaim their exalted station in life. I cannot, perhaps, explain this part of my subject better than by giving a brief description of the suwaarree[1] (travelling retinue) of the Paadshah Begum[2] which passed my house at Lucknow on the occasion of her visit to the Durgah of Huzerut Abas Ali Kee, after several years strictly confining herself to the palace.

By Paadshah is meant ‘King’;–Begum, ‘Lady.’ The first wife of the King is distinguished by this title from every other he may have married; it is equivalent to that of ‘Queen’ in other countries. With this title the Paadshah Begum enjoys also many other marks of royal distinction; as, for instance, the dunkah (kettle-drums) preceding her suwaarree; a privilege, I believe, never allowed by the King to any other female of his family. The embroidered chattah (umbrella); the afthaadah (embroidered sun); and chowries of the peacock’s feathers, are also out-of-door distinctions allowed only to this lady and the members of the royal family. But to my description:–

First, in the Paadshah Begum’s suwaarree I observed a guard of cavalry soldiers in full dress, with their colours unfurled; these were followed by two battalions of infantry, with their bands of music and colours. A company of spearmen on foot, in neat white dresses and turbans, their spears of silver, rich and massive. Thirty-six men in white dresses and turbans, each having a small triangular flag of crimson silk, on which were embroidered the royal arms (two fish and a dirk of a peculiar shape). The staffs of these flags are of silver, about three feet long; in the lower part of the handle a small bayonet is secreted, which can be produced at will by pressure on a secret spring. Next followed a full band of music, drums, fifes, &c.; then the important dunkah, which announces to the public the lady’s rank: she is enclosed within the elevated towering chundole, on each side of which the afthaadah and chowries are carried by well-dressed men, generally confidential servants, appointed to this service.

The chundole is a conveyance resembling a palankeen, but much larger and more lofty; it is, in fact, a small silver room, six feet long, five broad, and four feet high, supported by the aid of four silver poles on the shoulders of twenty bearers. These bearers are relieved every quarter of a mile by a second set in attendance: the two sets change alternately to the end of the journey. The bearers are dressed in a handsome royal livery of white calico made to sit close to the person; over which are worn scarlet loose coats of fine English broad-cloth, edged and bordered with gold embroidery: on the back of the coat a fish is embroidered in gold. Their turbans correspond in colour with the coats; on the front of the turban is fixed diagonally a fish of wrought gold, to the tail of which a rich gold tassel is attached; this readies to the shoulder of the bearer, and gives a remarkable air of grandeur to the person.

The chundole is surrounded by very powerful women bearers, whose business it is to convey the vehicle within the compound (court-yard) of the private apartments, or wherever men are not admitted at the same time with females. Chobdhaars and soota-badhaars walk near the chundole carrying gold and silver staffs or wands, and vociferating the rank and honours of the lady they attend with loud voices the whole way to and from the Durgah. These men likewise keep off the crowds of beggars attracted on such occasions by the known liberality of the ladies, who, according to established custom, make distributions to a large amount, which are scattered amongst the populace by several of the Queen’s eunuchs, who walk near the chundole for that purpose.

The chief of the eunuchs followed the Queen’s chundole on an elephant, seated in a gold howdah; the trappings of which were of velvet, richly embroidered in gold; the eunuch very elegantly dressed in a suit of gold-cloth, a brilliant turban, and attired in expensive shawls. After the eunuch, follow the Paadshah Begum’s ladies of quality, in covered palankeens, each taking precedence according to the station or the favour she may enjoy; they are well guarded by soldiers, spearmen, and chobdhaars. Next in the train, follow the several officers of the Queen’s household, on elephants, richly caparisoned. And, lastly, the women of inferior rank and female slaves, in rutts (covered carriages) such as are in general use throughout India. These rutts are drawn by bullocks, having bells of a small size strung round their neck, which as they move have a novel and not unpleasing sound, from the variety of tones produced. The rutt is a broad-wheeled carriage, the body and roof forming two cones, one smaller than the other, covered with scarlet cloth, edged, fringed, and bordered with gold or amber silk trimmings. The persons riding in rutts are seated on cushions placed flat on the surface of the carriage (the Asiatic style of sitting at all times) and not on raised seats, the usual custom in Europe. The entrance to these rutts is from the front, like the tilted carts of England, where a thick curtain of corresponding colour and material conceals the inmates from the public gaze; a small space is left between this curtain and the driver, where one or two women servants are seated as guards, who are privileged by age and ugliness to indulge in the liberty of seeing the passing gaiety, and of enjoying, without a screen, the pure air; benefits which their superiors in rank are excluded from at all ages.

In the Paadshah Begum’s suwaarree, I counted fifty of these Native carriages, into each of which from four to six females are usually crowded, comprising the members of the household establishment of the great lady; such as companions, readers of the Khoraum, kaawauses[3] (the higher classes of female-slaves), muggalanie[4] (needle-women), &c. This will give you a tolerable idea of the number and variety of females attached to the suite of a lady of consequence in India. The procession, at a walking pace, occupied nearly half an hour in passing the road opposite to my house: it was well conducted, and the effect imposing, both from its novelty and splendour.

A lady here would be the most unhappy creature existing, unless surrounded by a multitude of attendants suitable to her rank in life. They have often expressed surprise and astonishment at my want of taste in keeping only two women servants in my employ, and having neither a companion nor a slave in my whole establishment; they cannot imagine anything so stupid as my preference to a quiet study, rather than the constant bustle of a well-filled zeenahnah.

Many of the Mussulmaun ladies entertain women companions, whose chief business is to tell stories and fables to their employer, while she is composing herself to sleep; many of their tales partake of the romantic cast which characterizes the well-remembered ‘Arabian Nights’ Entertainments’, one story begetting another to the end of the collection. When the lady is fairly asleep the story is stayed, and the companion resumes her employment when the next nap is sought by her mistress.

Amongst the higher classes the males also indulge in the same practice of being talked to sleep by their men slaves; and it is a certain introduction with either sex to the favour of their employer, when one of these dependants has acquired the happy art of ‘telling the khaunie'[5] (fable) with an agreeable voice and manner. The more they embellish a tale by flights of their versatile imaginations, so much greater the merit of the rehearser in the opinion of the listeners.

The inmates of zeenahnahs occasionally indulge in games of chance: their dice are called chowsah (four sides), or chuhsah[6] (six sides); these dice are about four inches long and half an inch thick on every side, numbered much in the same way as the European dice. They are thrown by the hand, not from boxes, and fall lengthways.

They have many different games which I never learned, disliking such modes of trifling away valuable time; I am not, therefore, prepared to describe them accurately. One of their games has a resemblance to draughts, and is played on a chequered cloth carpet, with red and white ivory cones.[7] They have also circular cards, six suits to a pack, very neatly painted, with which they play many (to me) indescribable games; but oftener, to their credit be it said, for amusement than for gain. The gentlemen, however, are not always equally disinterested; they frequently play for large sums of money. I do not, however, find the habit so general with the Natives as it is with Europeans. The religious community deem all games of chance unholy, and therefore incompatible with their mode of living. I am not aware that gaming is prohibited by their law in a direct way,[8] but all practices tending to covetousness are strictly forbidden; and, surely, those who can touch the money called ‘winnings’ at any game, must be more or less exposed to the accusation of desiring other men’s goods.

Shampooing has been so often described as to leave little by way of novelty for me to remark on the subject; it is a general indulgence with all classes in India, whatever may be their age or circumstances. The comfort derived from the pressure of the hands on the limbs, by a clever shampooer, is alone to be estimated by those who have experienced the benefits derived from this luxurious habit, in a climate where such indulgences are needed to assist in creating a free circulation of the blood, which is very seldom induced by exercise as in more Northern latitudes. Persons of rank are shampooed by their slaves during the hours of sleep, whether it be by day or by night; if through any accidental circumstance the pressure is discontinued, even for a few seconds only, the sleep is immediately broken: such is the power of habit.

The punkah (fan) is in constant use by day and night, during eight months of the year. In the houses of the Natives, the slaves have ample employment in administering to the several indulgences which their ladies require at their hands; for with them fixed punkahs have not been introduced into the zeenahnah:[9] the only punkah in their apartments is moved by the hand, immediately over or in front of the person for whose use it is designed. In the gentlemen’s apartments, however, and in the houses of all Europeans, punkahs are suspended from the ceiling, to which a rope is fastened and passed through an aperture in the wall into the verandah, where a man is seated who keeps it constantly waving, by pulling the rope, so that the largest rooms, and even churches, are filled with wind, to the great comfort of all present.

The female slaves, although constantly required about the lady’s person, are nevertheless tenderly treated, and have every proper indulgence afforded them. They discharge in rotation the required duties of their stations, and appear as much the objects of the lady’s care as any other people in her establishment. Slavery with them is without severity; and in the existing state of Mussulmaun society, they declare the women slaves to be necessary appendages to their rank and respectability. The liberal proprietors of slaves give them suitable matches in marriage when they have arrived at a proper age, and even foster their children with the greatest care; often granting them a salary, and sometimes their freedom, if required to make them happy. Indeed, generally speaking the slaves in a Mussulmaun’s house must be vicious and unworthy, who are not considered members of the family.

It is an indisputable fact that the welfare of their slaves is an object of unceasing interest with their owners, if they are really good Mussulmauns; indeed, it is second only to the regard which they manifest to their own children.

Many persons have been known, in making their will, to decree the liberty of their slaves. They are not, however, always willing to accept the boon. ‘To whom shall I go?’–‘Where shall I meet a home like my master’s house?’ are appeals that endear the slave to the survivors of the first proprietor, and prove that their bondage has not been a very painful one. It is an amiable trait of character amongst the Mussulmauns, with whom I have been intimate, and which I can never forget, that the dependence of their slaves is made easy; that they enjoy every comfort compatible with their station; and that their health, morals, clothing, and general happiness, are as much attended to as that of their own relatives. But slavery is a harsh term between man and man, and however mitigated its state, is still degrading to him. I heartily trust there will be a time when this badge of disgrace shall be wiped away from every human being. He that made man, designed him for higher purposes than to be the slave of his fellow-mortal; but I should be unjust to the people of India, if I did not remark, that having the uncontrolled power in their hands, they abstain from the exercise of any such severity as has disgraced the owners of slaves in other places, where even the laws have failed to protect them from cruelty and oppression. Indeed, wherever an instance has occurred of unfeeling conduct towards these helpless beings, the most marked detestation has invariably been evinced towards the authors by the real Mussulmaun.

I have heard of a very beautiful female slave who had been fostered by a Native lady of high rank, from her infancy. In the course of time, this female had arrived to the honour of being made the companion of her young master, still, however, by her Begum’s consent, residing with her lady, who was much attached to her. The freedom of intercourse, occasioned by the slave’s exaltation, had the effect of lessening the young creature’s former respect for her still kind mistress, to whom she evinced some ungrateful returns for the many indulgences she had through life received at her hands. The exact nature of her offences I never heard, but it was deemed requisite, for the sake of example in a house where some hundreds of female slaves were maintained, that the lady should adopt some such method of testifying her displeasure towards this pretty favourite, as would be consistent with her present elevated station. A stout silver chain was therefore made, by the Begum’s orders, and with this the slave was linked to her bedstead a certain number of hours every day, in the view of the whole congregated family of slaves. This punishment would be felt as a degradation by the slave; not the confinement to her bedstead, where she would perhaps have seated herself from choice, had she not been in disgrace.

‘Once a slave, and always a slave,’ says Fierdowsee the great poet of Persia; but this apophthegm was in allusion to the ‘mean mind’ of the King who treated him scurvily after his immense labour in that noble work, ‘The Shah Namah.’ I have a sketch of Fierdowsee’s life, which my husband translated for me; but I must forbear giving it here, as I have heard the whole work itself is undergoing a translation by an able Oriental scholar, who will doubtless do justice both to ‘The Shah Namah’ and the character of Fierdowsee, who is in so great estimation with the learned Asiatics.[10]

The Mussulmauns quote their favourite poets with much the same freedom that the more enlightened nations are wont to use with their famed authors. The moral precepts of Saadie[11] are often introduced with good effect, both in writing and speaking, as beacons to the inexperienced.

Haafiz[12] has benefited the Mussulmaun world by bright effusions of genius, which speak to successive generations the wonders of his extraordinary mind. He was a poet of great merit; his style is esteemed superior to the writers of any other age; and, notwithstanding the world is rich with the beauties of his almost inspired mind, yet, strange as it may appear, he never compiled a single volume. Even in the age in which he lived his merit as a poet was in great estimation; but he never thought of either benefit or amusement to the world or to himself beyond the present time. He wrote the thoughts of his inspired moments on pieces of broken pitchers or pans, with charcoal; some of his admirers were sure to follow his footsteps narrowly, and to their vigilance in securing those scraps strewed about, wherever Haafiz had made his sojourn, may to this day be ascribed the benefit derived by the public from his superior writings. Saadie, however, is the standard favourite of all good Mussulmauns; his ‘Goolistaun'[13] (Garden of Roses), is placed in the hands of every youth when consigned to the dominion of a master, as being the most worthy book in the Persian language for his study, whether the beauty of his diction or the morality of his subjects be considered.

The ‘Hyaatool Kaaloob'[14] (Enlightener of the Heart), is another Persian work, in prose, by Mirza Mahumud Baakur, greatly esteemed by the learned Mussulmauns. This work contains the life and acts of every known prophet from the Creation, including also Mahumud and the twelve Emaums. The learned Maulvee, it appears, first wrote it in the Arabic language, but afterwards translated it into Persian, with the praiseworthy motive of rendering his invaluable work available to those Mussulmauns who were not acquainted with Arabic.

I have some extracts from this voluminous work, translated for me by my husband, which interested me on account of the great similarity to our Scripture history; and if permitted at some future time, I propose offering them to the public in our own language, conceiving they may be as interesting to others as they have been to me.

The Persian and Arabic authors, I have remarked, substitute Y for J in Scripture names; for instance, Jacob and Joseph are pronounced Yaacoob and Yeusuf.[15] They also differ from us in some names commencing with A, as in Abba, which they pronounce Ubba (Father); for Amen, they say Aameen[16] (the meaning strictly coinciding with ours); for Aaron, Aaroon; for Moses, Moosa.[17] I am told by those who are intimate with both languages, that there is a great similarity between the Hebrew and Arabic. The passage in our Scripture ‘Eloi, Eloi, lama sabaethani,’ was interpreted to me by an Arabic scholar, as it is rendered in that well-remembered verse in the English translation.

[1] _Sawari_.

[2] The Padshah Begam was the widow of Ghazi-ud-din Haidar, King of Oudh. On his death, in 1837, she contrived a plot to place his putative son, Munna Jan, on the throne. After a fierce struggle in the palace, the revolt was suppressed by the Resident, Colonel Low, and his assistants, Captains Paton and Shakespear. The pair were confined in the Chunar Fort till their deaths. See the graphic narrative by Gen. Sleeman (_Journey Through Oudh_, ii. 172 ff.); also H.C. Irwin (_The Garden of India_, 127 f.); Mrs. F. Parks (_Wanderings of a Pilgrim_, ii. 114).

[3] _Khawass_, ‘distinguished’: special attendants.

[4] _Mughlani_, a Moghul woman: an attendant in a zenana, a sempstress.

[5] _Kahani_.

[6] _Chausa, chhahsa_, not to be found in Platt’s _Hindustani Dictionary_.

[7] The game of Pachisi, played on a cloth marked in squares: see _Bombay Gazetteer_, ix, part ii, 173.

[8] Gambling is one of the greater sins.–Sale, _Koran: Preliminary Discourse_, 89; Sells, _Faith of Islam_, 155.

[9] Fixed punkahs were introduced early in the nineteenth century.–Yule, _Hobson-Jobson_, 744.

[10] Firdausi, author of the Shahnama, died A.D. 1020 or 1025, aged 89 years. An abridged translation, to which reference is made, by J. Atkinson, was published in 1832. It has since been translated by A.G. and E. Warner (1905), and by A. Rogers (1907).

[11] Shaikh Sa’di, born at Shiraz A.D. 1175, died 1292, aged 120 lunar years. His chief works are the _Gulistan_ and the _Bostan_.

[12] Khwaja Hafiz, Shams-ud-din Muhammad, author of the Diwan Hafiz, died at Shiraz A.D. 1389, where his tomb at Musalla is the scene of pilgrimage; see E.G. Browne, _A Year amongst the Persians_, 280 f.

[13] _Gulistan_.

[14] See p. 77.

[15] Ya’qub, Yusuf.

[16] _Amin_.

[17] Harun, Musa.

LETTER XVIII

Evils attending a residence in India.–Frogs.–Flies.–Blains.– Musquitoes.–The White Ant.–The Red Ant.–Their destructive habits.–A Tarantula.–Black Ants.–Locusts.–Superstition of the Natives upon their appearance.–The Tufaun, or Haundhie (tempest).–The rainy season.–Thunder and lightning.–Meteors.– Earthquakes.–A city ruined by them.–Reverence of the Mussulmauns for saints.–Prickly heat.–Cholera Morbus.–Mode of Treatment.–Temperance the best remedy.–Recipe.

A residence in India, productive as it may be (to many) of pecuniary benefits, presents, however, a few inconveniences to Europeans independent of climate,–which, in the absence of more severe trials, frequently become a source of disquiet, until habit has reconciled, or reflection disposed the mind to receive the mixture of evil and good which is the common lot of man in every situation of life. I might moralise on the duty of intelligent beings suffering patiently those trials which human ingenuity cannot avert, even if this world’s happiness were the only advantage to be gained; but when we reflect on the account we have to give hereafter, for every thought, word, or action, I am induced to believe, the well-regulated mind must view with dismay a retrospect of the past murmurings of which it has been guilty. But I must bring into view the trials of patience which our countrymen meet while in India, to those who have neither witnessed nor [Transcriber’s note: illegible] them; many of them present slight, but living, op[Transcriber’s note: illegible] those evils with which the Egyptians were visited for their impiety to Heaven.

Frogs, for instance, harmless as these creatures are in their nature, occasion no slight inconvenience to the inhabitants of India. They enter their house in great numbers and, without much care, would make their way to the beds, as they do to the chambers; the croaking during the rainy season is almost deafening, particularly towards the evening and during the night. Before the morning has well dawned, these creatures creep into every open doorway, and throughout the day secrete themselves under the edges of mattings and carpets, to the annoyance of those who have an antipathy to these unsightly looking creatures.

The myriads of flies which fill the rooms, and try the patience of every observer of nice order in an English establishment, may bear some likeness to the plague which was inflicted on Pharaoh and his people, as a punishment for their hardness of heart. The flies of India have a property not common to those of Europe, but very similar to the green fly of Spain: when bruised, they will raise a blister on the skin, and, I am told, are frequently made use of by medical gentlemen as a substitute for the Spanish fly.[1]

If but one wing or leg of a fly is by any accident dropped into the food of an individual, and swallowed, the consequence is an immediate irritation of the stomach, answering the purpose of a powerful emetic. At meals the flies are a pest, which most people say they abhor, knowing the consequences of an unlucky admission into the stomach of the smallest particle of the insect. Their numbers exceed all calculation; the table is actually darkened by the myriads, particularly in the season of the periodical rains. The Natives of India use muslin curtains suspended from the ceiling of their hall at meal times, which are made very full and long, so as to enclose the whole dinner party and exclude their tormentors.

The biles or blains, which all classes of people in India are subject to, may be counted as amongst the catalogue of Pharaoh’s plagues. The most healthy and the most delicate, whether Europeans or Natives, are equally liable to be visited by these eruptions, which are of a painful and tedious nature. The causes inducing these biles no one, as yet, I believe, has been able to discover, and therefore a preventive has not been found. I have known people who have suffered every year from these attacks, with scarce a day’s intermission during the hot weather.[2]

The musquitoes, a species of gnat, tries the patience of the public in no very measured degree; their malignant sting is painful, and their attacks incessant; against which there is no remedy but patience, and a good gauze curtain to the beds. Without some such barrier, foreigners could hardly exist; certainly they never could enjoy a night’s repose. Even the mere buzzing of musquitoes is a source of much annoyance to Europeans: I have heard many declare the bite was not half so distressing as the sound. The Natives, both male and female, habitually wrap themselves up so entirely in their chuddah[3] (sheet) that they escape from these voracious insects, whose sounds are so familiar to them that it may be presumed they lull to, rather than disturb their sleep.

The white ant is a cruel destroyer of goods: where it has once made its domicile, a real misfortune may be considered to have visited the house. They are the most destructive little insects in the world doing as much injury in one hour as a man might labour through a long life to redeem. These ants, it would seem, have no small share of animosity to ladies’ finery, for many a wardrobe have they demolished, well filled with valuable dresses and millinery, before their vicinity has even been suspected, or their traces discovered. They destroy beams in the roofs of houses, chests of valuable papers, carpets, mats, and furniture, with a dispatch which renders them the most formidable of enemies, although to appearance but a mean little insect.

There is one season of the year when they take flight, having four beautiful transparent wings; this occurs during the periodical rains, when they are attracted by the lights of the houses, which they enter in countless numbers, filling the tables, and whilst flitting before the lights disencumber themselves of their wings. They then become, to appearance, a fat maggot, and make their way to the floors and walls, where it is supposed they secrete themselves for a season, and are increasing in numbers whilst in this stage of existence. At the period of their migration in search of food, they will devour any perishable materials within their reach. It is probable, however, that they first send out scouts to discover food for the family, for the traces of white ants are discovered by a sort of clay-covered passage, formed as they proceed on their march in almost a direct line, which often extends a great distance from their nest.

To mark the economy of ants has sometimes formed a part of my amusements in Hindoostaun.[4] I find they all have wings at certain seasons of the year; and more industrious little creatures cannot exist than the small red ants, which are so abundant in India. I have watched them at their labours for hours without tiring; they are so small that from eight to twelve in number labour with great difficulty to convey a grain of wheat or barley; yet these are not more than half the size of a grain of English wheat. I have known them to carry one of these grains to their nest at a distance of from six hundred to a thousand yards; they travel in two distinct lines over rough or smooth ground, as it may happen, even up and down steps, at one regular pace. The returning unladen ants invariably salute the burthened ones, who are making their way to the general storehouse; but it is done so promptly that the line is neither broken nor their progress impeded by the salutation.

I was surprised one morning in my breakfast parlour to discover something moving slowly up the wall; on approaching near to examine what it was, I discovered a dead wasp, which the khidmutghar[5] (footman) had destroyed with his chowrie during breakfast, and which, falling on the floor, had become the prize of my little friends (a vast multitude), who were labouring with their tiny strength to convey it to their nest in the ceiling. The weight was either too great, or they had quarrelled over the burthen,–I know not which,–but the wasp fell to the ground when they had made more than half the journey of the wall; the courageous little creatures, however, were nothing daunted, they resumed their labour, and before evening their prize was safely housed.

These ants are particularly fond of animal food. I once caught a tarantula; it was evening, and I wished to examine it by daylight. I placed it for this purpose in a recess of the wall, under a tumbler, leaving just breathing room. In the morning I went to examine my curiosity, when to my surprise it was dead and swarming with red ants, who had been its destroyers, and were busily engaged in making a feast on the (to them) huge carcass of the tarantula.

These small creatures often prove a great annoyance by their nocturnal visits to the beds of individuals, unless the precaution be taken of having brass vessels, filled with water, to each of the bed-feet; the only method of effectually preventing their approach to the beds. I was once much annoyed by a visit from these bold insects, when reclining on a couch during the extreme heat of the day. I awoke by an uneasy sensation from their bite or sting about my ears and face, and found they had assembled by millions on my head; the bath was my immediate resource. The Natives tell me these little pests will feed on the human body if they are not disturbed: when any one is sick there is always great anxiety to keep them away.

The large black ant is also an enemy to man; its sharp pincers inflict wounds of no trifling consequence; it is much larger than the common fly, has long legs, is swift of foot, and feeds chiefly on animal substances. I fancy all the ant species are more or less carnivorous, but strictly epicurean in their choice of food, avoiding tainted or decomposed substances with the nicest discrimination. Sweetmeats are alluring to them; there is also some difficulty in keeping them from jars of sugar or preserves; and when swallowed in food, are the cause of much personal inconvenience.

I have often witnessed the Hindoos, male and female, depositing small portions of sugar near ants’ nests, as acts of charity to commence the day with;[6] and it is the common opinion with the Natives generally, that wherever the red ants colonize prosperity attends the owners of that house. They destroy the white ants, though the difference in their size is as a grain of sand to a barley-corn; and on that account only may be viewed rather as friends than enemies to man, provided by the same Divine source from whence all other benefits proceed.

The locusts, so familiar by name to the readers of Scripture, are here seen to advantage in their occasional visits. I had, however, been some years in India before I was gratified by the sight of these wonderful insects; not because of their rarity, as I had frequently heard of their appearance and ravages, but not immediately in the place where I was residing, until the year 1825, which the following memorandum made at the time will describe.

On the third of July, between four and five o’clock in the afternoon, I observed a dusky brown cloud bordering the Eastern horizon, at the distance of about four miles from my house, which stands on an elevated situation; the colour was so unusual that I resolved on inquiring from my oracle, Meer Hadjee Shaah, to whom I generally applied for elucidations of the remarkable, what such an appearance portended. He informed me it was a flight of locusts.

I had long felt anxious to witness those insects, that had been the food of St. John in the Desert, and which are so familiar by name from their frequent mention in Scripture; and now that I was about to be gratified, I am not ashamed to confess my heart bounded with delight, yet with an occasional feeling of sympathy for the poor people, whose property would probably become the prey of this devouring cloud of insects before the morning’s dawn. Long before they had time to advance, I was seated in an open space in the shade of my house to watch them more minutely. The first sound I could distinguish was as the gentlest breeze, increasing as the living cloud approached; and as they moved over my head, the sound was like the rustling of the wind through the foliage of many pepul-trees.[7]

It was with a feeling of gratitude that I mentally thanked God at the time that they were a stingless body of insects, and that I could look on them without the slightest apprehension of injury. Had this wondrous cloud of insects been the promised locust described in the Apocalypse, which shall follow the fifth angel’s trumpet; had they been hornets, wasps, or even the little venomous musquito, I had not then dared to retain my position to watch with eager eyes the progress of this insect family as they advanced, spreading for miles on every side with something approaching the sublime, and presenting a most imposing spectacle. So steady and orderly was their pace, having neither confusion nor disorder in their line of march through the air, that I could not help comparing them to the well-trained horses of the English cavalry.[8] ‘Who gave them this order in their flight?’ was in my heart and on my tongue.

I think the main body of this army of locusts must have occupied thirty minutes in passing over my head, but my attention was too deeply engrossed to afford me time to consult my time-piece. Stragglers there were many, separated from the flight by the noises made by the servants and people to deter them from settling; some were caught, and, no doubt, converted into currie for a Mussulmaun’s meal. They say it is no common delicacy, and is ranked among the allowed animal food.

The Natives anticipate earthquakes after the visitation or appearance of locusts. They are said to generate in mountains, but I cannot find any one here able to give me an authentic account of their natural history.

On the 18th of September, 1825, another flight of these wonderful insects passed over my house in exactly a contrary direction from those which appeared in July, viz. from the West towards the East. The idea struck me that they might be the same swarm, returning after fulfilling the object of their visit to the West: but I have no authority on which to ground my supposition. The Natives have never made natural history even an amusement, much less a study, although their habits are purely those of Nature; they know the property of most herbs, roots, and flowers, which they cultivate, not for their beauty, but for the benefit they render to man and beast.[9]

I could not learn that the flight had rested anywhere near Futtyghur, at which place I was then living. They are of all creatures the most destructive to vegetation, licking with their rough tongue the blades of grass, the leaves of trees, and green herbage of all kinds. Wherever they settle for the night, vegetation is completely destroyed; and a day of mournful consequences is sure to follow their appearance in the poor farmer’s fields of green com.

But that which bears the most awful resemblance to the visitations of God’s wrath on Pharaoh and the Egyptians, is, I think, the frightful storm of wind which brings thick darkness over the earth at noonday, and which often occurs from the Tufaun or Haundhie,[10] as it is called by the Natives. Its approach is first discerned by dark columns of yellow clouds, bordering the horizon; the alarm is instantly given by the Natives, who hasten to put out the fires in the kitchens, and close the doors and windows in European houses, or with the Natives to let down the purdahs. No sound that can be conceived by persons who have not witnessed this phenomenon of Nature, is capable of conveying an idea of the tempest. In a few minutes total darkness is produced by the thick cloud of dust; and the tremendous rushing wind carries the fine sand, which produces the darkness, through every cranny and crevice to all parts of the house; so that in the best secured rooms every article of furniture is covered with sand, and the room filled as with a dense fog: the person, dresses, furniture, and the food (if at meal times), are all of one dusky colour; and though candles are lighted to lessen the horror of the darkness, they only tend to make the scene of confusion more visible.

Fortunately the tempest is not of very long continuance. I have never known it to last more than half an hour; yet in that time how much might have been destroyed of life and property, but for the interposing care of Divine mercy, whose gracious Providence over the works of His hand is seen in such seasons as these! The sound of thunder is hailed as a messenger of peace; the Natives are then aware that the fury of the tempest is spent, as a few drops of rain indicate a speedy termination; and when it has subsided they run to see what damage has been done to the premises without. It often occurs, that trees are torn up by their roots, the thatched houses and huts unroofed, and, if due care has not been taken to quench the fires in time, huts and bungalows are frequently found burnt, by the sparks conveyed in the dense clouds of sand which pass with the rapidity of lightning.

These tufauns occur generally in April, May, and June, before the commencement of the periodical rains. I shall never forget the awe I felt upon witnessing the first after my arrival, nor the gratitude which filled my heart when the light reappeared. The Natives on such occasions gave me a bright example: they ceased not in the hour of peril to call on God for safety and protection; and when refreshed by the return of calm, they forgot not that their helper was the merciful Being in whom they had trusted, and to whom they gave praise and thanksgiving.

The rainy season is at first hailed with a delight not easily to be explained. The long continuance of the hot winds,–during which period (three months or more) the sky is of the colour of copper, without the shadow of a cloud to shield the earth from the fiery heat of the sun, which has, in that time, scorched the earth and its inhabitants, stunted vegetation, and even affected the very houses–renders the season when the clouds pour out their welcome moisture a period which is looked forward to with anxiety, and received with universal joy.

The smell of the earth after the first shower is more dearly loved than the finest aromatics or the purest otta. Vegetation revives and human nature exults in the favourable shower. As long as the novelty lasts, and the benefit is sensibly felt, all seem to rejoice; but when the intervals of clouds without rain occur, and send forth, as they separate, the bright glare untempered by a passing breeze, poor weak human nature is too apt to revolt against the season they cannot control, and sometimes a murmuring voice is heard to cry out, ‘Oh, when will the rainy season end!’

The thunder and lightning during the rainy season are beyond my ability to describe. The loud peals of thunder roll for several minutes in succession, magnificently, awfully grand. The lightning is proportionably vivid, yet with fewer instances of conveying the electric fluid to houses than might be expected when the combustible nature of the roofs is considered; the chief of which are thatched with coarse dry grass. The casualties are by no means frequent; and although trees surround most of the dwellings, yet we seldom hear of any injury by lightning befalling them or their habitations. Fiery meteors frequently fall; one within my recollection was a superb phenomenon, and was visible for several seconds.

The shocks from earthquakes are frequently felt in the Upper Provinces of India;[11] I was sensible of the motion on one occasion (rather a severe one), for at least twenty seconds. The effect on me, however, was attended with no inconvenience beyond a sensation of giddiness, as if on board ship in a calm, when the vessel rolls from side to side.

At Kannoge, now little more than a village in population, between Cawnpore and Futtyghur, I have rambled amongst the ruins of what formerly was an immense city, but which was overturned by an earthquake some centuries past. At the present period numerous relics of antiquity, as coins, jewels, &c., are occasionally discovered, particularly after the rains, when the torrents break down fragments of the ruins, and carry with the streams of water the long-buried mementos of the riches of former generations to the profit of the researching villagers, and to the gratification of curious travellers, who generally prove willing purchasers.[12]

I propose giving in another letter the remarks I was led to make on Kannoge during my pleasant sojourn in that retired situation, as it possesses many singular antiquities and contains the ashes of many holy Mussulmaun saints. The Mussulmauns, I may here observe, reverence the memory of the good and the pious of all persuasions, but more particularly those of their own faith. I have sketches of the lives and actions of many of their sainted characters, received through the medium of my husband and his most amiable father, that are both amusing and instructive; and notwithstanding their particular faith be not in accordance with our own, it is only an act of justice to admit, that they were men who lived in the fear of God, and obeyed his commandments according to the instruction they had received; and which, I hope, may prove agreeable to my readers when they come to those pages I have set apart for such articles.

My catalogue of the trying circumstances attached to the comforts which are to be met with in India are nearly brought to a close; but I must not omit mentioning one ‘blessing in disguise’ which occurs annually, and which affects Natives and Europeans indiscriminately, during the hot winds and the rainy season: the name of this common visitor is, by Europeans, called ‘the prickly heat’; by Natives it is denominated ‘Gurhum dahnie'[13] (warm rash). It is a painful irritating rash, often spreading over the whole body, mostly prevailing, however, wherever the clothes screen the body from the power of the air; we rarely find it on the hands or face. I suppose it to be induced by excessive perspiration, more particularly as those persons who are deficient in this freedom of the pores, so essential to healthiness, are not liable to be distressed by the rash; but then they suffer more severely in their constitution by many other painful attacks of fever, &c. So greatly is this rash esteemed the harbinger of good health, that they say in India, ‘the person so afflicted has received his life-lease for the year’; and wherever it does not make its appearance, a sort of apprehension is entertained of some latent illness.

Children suffer exceedingly from the irritation, which to scratch is dangerous. In Native nurseries I have seen applications used of pounded sandal-wood, camphor, and rose-water; with the peasantry a cooling earth, called mooltanie mittee,[14] similar to our fuller’s-earth, is moistened with water and plastered over the back and stomach, or wherever the rash mostly prevails; all this is but a temporary relief, for as soon as it is dry, the irritation and burning are as bad as ever.

The best remedy I have met with, beyond patient endurance of the evil, is bathing in rain-water, which soothes the violent sensations, and eventually cools the body. Those people who indulge most in the good things of this life are the greatest sufferers by this annual attack. The benefits attending temperance are sure to bring an ample reward to the possessors of that virtue under all circumstances, but in India more particularly; I have invariably observed the most abstemious people are the least subject to attacks from the prevailing complaints of the country, whether fever or cholera, and when attacked the most likely subjects to recover from those alarming disorders.

At this moment of anxious solicitude throughout Europe, when that awful malady, the cholera, is spreading from city to city with rapid strides, the observations I have been enabled to make by personal acquaintance with afflicted subjects in India, may be acceptable to my readers; although I heartily pray our Heavenly Father may in His goodness and mercy preserve our country from that awful calamity, which has been so generally fatal in other parts of the world.

The Natives of India designate cholera by the word ‘Hyza’, which with them signifies ‘the plague’. By this term, however, they do not mean that direful disorder so well known to us by the same appellation; as, if I except the Mussulmaun pilgrims, who have seen, felt, and described its ravages on their journey to Mecca, that complaint seems to be unknown to the present race of Native inhabitants of Hindoostaun. The word ‘hyza’, or ‘plague’, would be applied by them to all complaints of an epidemic or contagious nature by which the population were suddenly attacked, and death ensued. When the cholera first appeared in India (which I believe was in 1817), it was considered by the Natives a new complaint.[15]

In all cases of irritation of the stomach, disordered bowels, or severe feverish symptoms, the Mussulmaun doctors strongly urge the adoption of ‘starving out the complaint’. This has become a law of Nature with all the sensible part of the community; and when the cholera first made its appearance in the Upper Provinces of Hindoostaun, those Natives who observed their prescribed temperance were, when attacked, most generally preserved from the fatal consequences of the disorder.

On the very first symptom of cholera occurring in a member of a Mussulmaun family, a small portion of zahur morah[16] (derived from zahur, poison; morah, to kill or destroy, and thence understood as an antidote to poison, some specimens of which I have brought with me to England) moistened with rosewater, is promptly administered, and, if necessary, repeated at short intervals; due care being taken to prevent the patient from receiving anything into the stomach, excepting rosewater, the older the more efficacious in its property to remove the malady. Wherever zahur morah was not available, secun-gebeen[17] (syrup of vinegar) was administered with much the same effect. The person once attacked, although the symptoms should have subsided by this application, is rigidly deprived of nourishment for two or three days, and even longer if deemed expedient; occasionally allowing only a small quantity of rose-water, which they say effectually removes from the stomach and bowels those corrupt adhesions which, in their opinion, is the primary cause of the complaint.

The cholera, I observed, seldom attacked abstemious people; when, however, this was the case, it generally followed a full meal; whether of rice or bread made but little difference, much I believe depending on the general habit of the subject; as among the peasantry and their superiors the complaint raged with equal malignity, wherever a second meal was resorted to whilst the person had reason to believe the former one had not been well digested. An instance of this occurred under my own immediate observation in a woman, the wife of an old and favourite servant. She had imprudently eaten a second dinner, before her stomach, by her own account, had digested the preceding meal. She was not a strong woman, but in tolerable good health; and but a few hours previous to the attack I saw her in excellent spirits, without the most remote appearance of indisposition. The usual applications failed of success, and she died in a few hours. This poor woman never could be persuaded to abstain from food at the stated period of meals; and the Natives were disposed to conclude that this had been the actual cause of her sufferings and dissolution.

In 1821 the cholera raged with even greater violence than on its first appearance in Hindoostaun; by that time many remedies had been suggested, through the medium of the press, by the philanthropy and skill of European medical practitioners, the chief of whom recommended calomel in large doses, from twenty to thirty grains, and opium proportioned to the age and strength of the patient. I never found the Natives, however, willing to accept this as a remedy, but I have heard that amongst Europeans it was practised with success. From a paragraph which I read in the Bengal papers, I prepared a mixture that I have reason to think, through the goodness of Divine Providence, was beneficial to many poor people who applied for it in the early stages of the complaint, and who followed the rule laid down of complete abstinence, until they were out of danger from a relapse, and even then for a long time to be cautious in the quantity and digestible quality of their daily meal. The mixture was as follows:

Brandy, one pint; oil or spirit of peppermint, if the former half an ounce–if the latter, one ounce; ground black pepper, two ounces; yellow rind of oranges grated, without any of the white, one ounce; these were kept closely stopped and occasionally shook, a table-spoonful administered for each dose, the patient well covered up from the air, and warmth created by blankets or any other means within their power, repeating the close as the case required.

Of the many individuals who were attacked with this severe malady in our house very few died, and those, it was believed, were victims to an imprudent determination to partake of food before they were convalescent,–individuals who never could be prevailed on to practise abstemious habits, which we had good reason for believing was the best preventive against the complaint during those sickly seasons. The general opinion entertained both by Natives and Europeans, at those awful periods, was, that the cholera was conveyed in the air; very few imagined that it was infectious, as it frequently attacked some members of a family and the rest escaped, although in close attendance–even such as failed not to pay the last duties to the deceased according to Mussulmaun custom, which exposed them more immediately to danger if infection existed;–yet no fears were ever entertained, nor did I ever hear an opinion expressed amongst them, that it had been or could be conveyed from one person to another.

Native children generally escaped the attack, and I never heard of an infant being in the slightest degree visited by this malady. It is, however, expedient, to use such precautionary measures as sound sense and reason may suggest, since wherever the cholera has appeared, it has proved a national calamity, and not a partial scourge to a few individuals; all are alike in danger of its consequences, whether the disorder be considered infectious or not, and therefore the precautions I have urged in India, amongst the Native communities, I recommend with all humility here, that cleanliness and abstemious diet be observed among all classes of people.

In accordance with the prescribed antidote to infection from scarlet fever in England, I gave camphor (to be worn about the person) to the poor in my vicinity, and to all the Natives over whom I had either influence or control; I caused the rooms to be frequently fumigated with vinegar or tobacco, and labaun[18] (frankincense) burnt occasionally. I would not, however, be so presumptuous to insinuate even that these were preventives to cholera, yet in such cases of universal terror as the one in question, there can be no impropriety in recommending measures which cannot injure, and may benefit, if only by giving a purer atmosphere to the room inhabited by individuals either in sickness or in health. But above all things, aware that human aid or skill can never effect a remedy unaided by the mercy and power of Divine Providence, let our trust be properly placed in His goodness, ‘who giveth medicine to heal our sickness’, and humbly intreat that He may be pleased to avert the awful calamity from our shores which threatens and disturbs Europe generally at this moment.

Were we to consult Nature rather than inordinate gratifications, we should find in following her dictates the best security to health at all times, but more particularly in seasons of prevailing sickness. Upon the first indications of cholera, I have observed the stomach becomes irritable, the bowels are attacked by griping pains, and unnatural evacuations; then follow sensations of faintness, weakness, excessive thirst, the pulse becomes languid, the surface of the body cold and clammy, whilst the patient feels inward burning heat, with spasms in the legs and arms.

In the practice of Native doctors, I have noticed that they administer saffron to alleviate violent sickness with the best possible effect. A case came under my immediate observation, of a young female who had suffered from a severe illness similar in every way to the cholera; it was not, however, suspected to be that complaint, because it was not then prevailing at Lucknow: after some days the symptoms subsided, excepting the irritation of her stomach, which, by her father’s account, obstinately rejected everything offered for eleven days. When I saw her, she was apparently sinking under exhaustion; I immediately tendered the remedy recommended by my husband, viz. twelve grains of saffron, moistened with a little rose-water; and found with real joy that it proved efficacious; half the quantity in doses were twice repeated that night, and in the morning the patient was enabled to take a little gruel, and in a reasonable time entirely recovered her usual health and strength.

I have heard of people being frightened into an attack of cholera by apprehending the evil: this, however, can only occur with very weak minds, and such as have neglected in prosperity to prepare their hearts for adversity. When I first reached India, the fear of snakes, which I expected to find in every path, embittered my existence. This weakness was effectually corrected by the wise admonitions of Meer Hadjee Shaah, ‘If you trust in God, he will preserve you from every evil; be assured the snake has no power to wound without permission.’

[1] The _Cantharis resicatoria_ is imported into India for use in blisters. But there is a local substitute, _mylabris_, of which there are several varieties (Watt, _Economic Dictionary_, ii. 128, v. 309).

[2] The reference is perhaps to what is known as the Dehli Boil, a form of oriental sore, like the Biskra Button, Aleppo Evil, Lahore and Multan Sore (Yule, _Hobson-Jobson_, 302); possibly only to hot-weather boils.

[3] _Chadar_.

[4] For a good account of the ways of Indian ants, see M. Thornton, _Haunts and Hobbies of an Indian Official,_ 2 ff.

[5] _Khidmatgar_.

[6] The habit of laying sugar near ants’ nests is a piece of fertility magic, and common to Jains and Vishnu-worshippers; see J. Fryor, _A New Account of East India and Persia_, Hakluyt Society ed., I, 278.

[7] _Pipal, Ficus religiosa_.

[8] An esteemed friend has since referred me to the second chapter of the prophet Joel, part of the seventh and eighth verses, as a better comparison. [_Author._]

[9] The variety of locust seen in India is _acridium peregrinum_, which is said to range throughout the arid region from Algeria to N.W. India. They have extended as far south as the Kistna District of Madras (Watt, _Economic Dictionary_, VI, part i, 154).

[10] _Tufan_, storm, _andhi_, darkness.

[11] Earthquakes tend generally to be more frequent in the regions of extra-peninsular India, where the rocks have been more recently folded, than in the more stable Peninsula. Serious earthquakes have occurred recently in Assam, June, 1897, and in Kangra, Panjab, April, 1907. (_Imperial Gazetteer of India_, 1907, i. 98 f.)

[12] Kanauj, in the Farrukhabad District, United Provinces of Agra and Oudh. The ruin of the great city was due to attacks by Mahmud of Ghazni, A.D. 1019, and by Shihab-ud-din, Muhammad Ghori, in 1194.

[13] _Garm dahani_, hot inflammation, prickly heat.

[14] _Multani mitti_, ‘Multan Earth’, a soft, drab-coloured saponaceous earth, like fuller’s earth, used in medicine and for cleansing the hair.

[15] Cholera (_haiza_) was known to the Hindus long before the arrival of the Portuguese, who first described it (Yule, _Hobson-Jobson_[2], 586 ff.). The attention of English physicians was first seriously called to it in 1817, when it broke out in the Jessore District of Bengal, and in the camp of Marquess Hastings in the Datiya State, Central India. (See Sleeman, _Rambles_, 163, 232.)

[16] _Zahr-mohra_, ‘poison vanguard’: the bezoar stone, believed to be an antidote to poison (Yule, _Hobson-Jobson_[2], 90 f.).

[17] _Sikanjabin_, oxymel, vinegar, lime-juice, or other acid, mixed with sugar or honey.

[18] _Loban_.

LETTER XIX

Kannoge.–Formerly the capital of Hindoostaun.–Ancient castle.–Durability of the bricks made by the aborigines.–Prospect from the Killaah (castle).–Ruins.–Treasures found therein.–The Durgah Baallee Peer Kee.–Mukhburrahs.–Ancient Mosque.–Singular structure of some stone pillars.–The Durgah Mukdoom Jhaunneer.–Conversions to the Mussulmaun Faith.–Anecdote.–Ignorance of the Hindoos.–Sculpture of the Ancients.–Mosque inhabited by thieves.–Discovery of Nitre.–Method of extracting it.–Conjectures of its produce.–Residence in the castle.–Reflections.

Kannoge, now comparatively a Native village, situated about midway between Cawnpore and Futtyghur, is said to have been the capital of Hindoostaun, and according to Hindoo tradition was the seat of the reigning Rajahs two thousand years prior to the invasion of India by the Sultaun Timoor. If credit be given to current report, the Hindoos deny that the Deluge extended to India[1] as confidently as the Chinese declare that it never reached China.

These accounts I merely state as the belief of the Hindoos, and those the least educated persons of the population. The Mussulmauns, however, are of a different opinion; the account they give of the Deluge resembles the Jewish, and doubtless the information Mahumud has conveyed to his followers was derived from that source.

Some of the people are weak enough to conjecture that Kannoge was founded by Cain.[2] It bears, however, striking features of great antiquity, and possesses many sufficient evidences of its former extent and splendour to warrant the belief that it has been the capital of no mean kingdom in ages past. The remarks I was enabled to make during a residence of two years at Kannoge may not be deemed altogether uninteresting to my readers, although my descriptions may be ‘clouded with imperfections’. I will not, therefore, offer any useless apologies for introducing them in my present Letter.

Kannoge, known as the oldest capital of the far-famed kingdom of Hindoostaun, is now a heap upon heap of ruins, proclaiming to the present generation, even in her humility, how vast in extent and magnificent in style she once was, when inhabited by the rulers of that great empire. The earth entombs emblems of greatness, of riches, and of man’s vain-glorious possessions; buildings have been reared by successive generations on mounds which embowelled the ruined mansions of predecessors.

The killaah[3] (castle) in which during two years we shared an abode with sundry crows, bats, scorpions, centipedes, and other living things, was rebuilt about seven hundred years ago, on the original foundation which, as tradition states, has continued for more than two thousand years. The materials of which the walls are constructed are chiefly bricks.

It is worthy of remark, that the bricks of ancient manufacture in India give evidence of remarkable durability, and are very similar in quality to the Roman bricks occasionally discovered in England. At Delhi I have met with bricks that have been undoubtedly standing six or seven centuries; and at Kannoge, if tradition speak true, the same articles which were manufactured upwards of two thousand years ago, and which retain the colour of the brightest red, resemble more the hardest stone than the things we call bricks of the present day. After the minutest examination of these relics of ancient labour, I am disposed to think that the clay must have been more closely kneaded, and the bricks longer exposed to the action of fire than they are by the present mode of manufacturing them; and such is their durability, that they are only broken with the greatest difficulty.

The killaah was originally a fortified castle, and is situated near the river Kaullee Nuddie,[4] a branch or arm of the Ganges, the main stream of which flows about two miles distant. During the periodical rains, the Ganges overflows its banks, and inundates the whole tract of land intervening between the two rivers, forming an extent of water more resembling a sea than a river.

At the time we occupied the old castle, scarcely one room could be called habitable; and I learned with regret after the rains of 1826 and 1827, which were unusually heavy, that the apartments occupied since the Honourable East India Company’s rule by their taasseel-dhaars,[5] (sub-collectors of the revenue), were rendered entirely useless as a residence.

The comfortless interior of that well-remembered place was more than compensated by the situation. Many of my English acquaintance, who honoured me by visits at Kannoge, will, I think, agree with me, that the prospect from the killaah was indescribably grand. The Ganges and the Kaullee Nuddee were presented at one view; and at certain seasons of the year, as far as the eye could reach, their banks, and well-cultivated fields, clothed in a variety of green, seemed to recall the mind to the rivers of England, and their precious borders of grateful herbage. Turning in another direction, the eye was met by an impenetrable boundary of forest trees, magnificent in growth, and rich in foliage; at another glance, ruins of antiquity, or the still remaining tributes to saints; the detached villages; the sugar plantations; the agriculturists at their labour; the happy peasantry laden with their purchases from the bazaars; the Hindoo women and children, bearing their earthen-vessels to and from the river for supplies of water:–each in their turn formed objects of attraction from without, that more than repaid the absence of ordinary comforts in the apartment from which they were viewed. The quiet calm of this habitation, unbroken by the tumultuous sounds of a city, was so congenial to my taste, that when obliged to quit it, I felt almost as much regret as when I heard that the rains had destroyed the place which had been to me a home of peaceful enjoyment.

The city of Kannoge has evidently suffered the severities of a shock from an earthquake: the present inhabitants cannot tell at what period this occurred, but it must have been some centuries since, for the earth is grown over immense ruins, in an extensive circuit, forming a strong but coarse carpet of grass on the uneven mounds containing the long-buried mansions of the great. The rapid streams from the periodical rains forcing passages between the ruins, has in many places formed deep and frightful ravines, as well as rugged roads and pathways for the cattle and the traveller.

After each heavy fall of rain, the peasantry and children are observed minutely searching among the ruins for valuables washed out with the loose earth and bricks by the force of the streams, and, I am told, with successful returns for their toil; jewels, gold and silver ornaments, coins of gold and silver, all of great antiquity, are thus secured; these are bought by certain merchants of the city, by whom they are retailed to English travellers, who generally when on a river voyage to or from the Upper Provinces, contrive, if possible, to visit Kannoge to inspect the ruins, and purchase curiosities.

There is a stately range of buildings at no great distance from the killaah (castle), in a tolerable state of preservation, called ‘Baallee Peer Kee Durgah’.[6] The entrance is by a stone gateway of very superior but ancient workmanship, and the gates of massy wood studded with iron. I observed that on the wood framework over the entrance, many a stray horseshoe has been nailed, which served to remind me of Wales, where it is so commonly seen on the doors of the peasantry.[7] I am not aware but that the same motives may have influenced the two people in common.

To the right of the entrance stands a large mosque, which, I am told, was built by Baallee himself; who, it is related, was a remarkably pious man of the Mussulmaun persuasion, and had acquired so great celebrity amongst his countrymen as a perfect durweish, as to be surnamed peer[8] (saint). The exact time when he flourished at Kannoge, I am unable to say; but judging from the style of architecture, and other concurring circumstances, it must have been built at different periods, some parts being evidently of very ancient structure.

There are two mukhburrahs,[9] within the range, which viewed from the main road, stand in a prominent situation: one of these mukhburrahs was built by command, or in the reign (I could not learn which), of Shah Allumgeer [10] over the remains of Ballee Peer; and the second contains some of the peer’s immediate relatives.

From the expensive manner in which these buildings are constructed, some idea may be formed of the estimation this pious man was held in by his countrymen. The mausoleums are of stone, and elevated on a base of the same material, with broad flights of steps to ascend by. The stone must have been brought hither from a great distance, as I do not find there is a single quarry nearer than Delhi or Agra. There are people in charge of this Durgah who voluntarily exile themselves from the society of the world, in order to lead lives of strict devotion and under the imagined presiding influence of the saint’s pure spirit; they keep the sanctuary from pollution, burn lamps nightly on the tomb, and subsist by the occasional contributions of the charitable visitors and their neighbours.

Within the boundary of the Durgah, I remarked a very neat stone tomb, in good preservation: this, I was told, was the burying-place of the Kalipha [11] (head servant) who had attended on and survived Baallee Peer; this man had saved money in the service of the saint, which he left to be devoted to the repairs of the Durgah; premising that his tomb should be erected near that of his sainted master, and lamps burned every night over the graves, which is faithfully performed by the people in charge of the Durgah.

After visiting the ruins of Hindoo temples, which skirt the borders of the river in many parts of the district of Kannoge, the eye turns with satisfaction to the ancient mosques of the Mussulmauns, which convey conviction to the mind, that even in the remote ages of Hindoostaun, there have been men who worshipped God; whilst the piles of mutilated stone idols also declare the zealous Mussulmaun to have been jealous for his Creator’s glory. I have noticed about Kannoge hundreds of these broken or defaced images collected together in heaps (generally under trees), which were formerly the objects to which the superstitious Hindoos bowed in worship, until the more intelligent Mussulmauns strayed into the recesses of the deepest darkness to show the idolaters that God could not be represented by a block of stone.

In a retired part of Kannoge, I was induced to visit the remains of an immense building[12], expecting the gratification of a fine prospect from its towering elevation; my surprise, however, on entering the portal drove from my thoughts the first object of my visit.

The whole building is on a large scale, and is, together with the gateway, steps, roof, pillars, and offices, composed entirely of stone: from what I had previously conceived of the ancient Jewish temples, this erection struck me as bearing a strong resemblance. It appears that there is not the slightest portion of either wood or metal used in the whole construction; and, except where some sort of cement was indispensable, not a trace of mortar is to be discovered in the whole fabric. The pillars of the colonnade, which form three sides of the square, are singular piles of stone, erected with great exactness in the following order:–

A broad block of stone forms the base; on the centre is raised a pillar of six feet by two square, on this rests a circular stone, resembling a grindstone, on which is placed another upright pillar, and again a circular, until five of each are made to rest on the base to form a pillar; the top circulars or caps are much larger than the rest; and on these the massy stone beams for the roof are supported. How these ponderous stones forming the whole roof were raised, unacquainted as these people ever have been with machinery, is indeed a mystery sufficient to impress on the weak-minded a current report amongst the Natives, that the whole building was erected in one night by supernatural agency, from materials which had formerly been used in the construction of a Hindoo temple, but destroyed by the zeal of the Mussulmauns soon after their invasion of Hindoostaun.

The pillars I examined narrowly, and could not find any traces of cement or fastening; yet, excepting two or three which exhibit a slight curve, the whole colonnade is in a perfect state. The hall, including the colonnade, measures one hundred and eighty feel by thirty, and has doubtless been, at some time or other, a place of worship, in all probability for the Mussulmauns, there being still within the edifice a sort of pulpit of stone evidently intended for the reader, both from its situation and construction; this has sustained many rude efforts from the chisel in the way of ornament not strictly in accordance with the temple itself; besides which, there are certain tablets engraved in the Persian and Arabic character, which contain verses or chapters from the Khoraun; so that it may be concluded, whatever was the original design of the building, it has in later periods served the purposes of a mosque.

In some parts of this building traces exist to prove that the materials of which it has been formed originally belonged to the Hindoos, for upon many of the stones there are carved figures according with their mythology; such stones, however, have been placed generally upside down, and attempts to deface the graven figures are conspicuous,–they are all turned inside, whilst the exterior appearance is rough and uneven. It may be presumed they were formerly outward ornaments to a temple of some sort, most likely a ‘Bootkhanah'[13] (the house for idols).

I have visited the Durgah, called Mukhdoom Jhaaunneer[14], situated in the heart of the present city, which is said to have been erected nearly a thousand years ago, by the order of a Mussulmaun King; whether of Hindoostaun or not, I could not learn. It bears in its present dilapidated state, evidences both of good taste and superior skill in architecture, as well as of costliness in the erection, superior to any thing I expected to find amongst the ancient edifices of Hindoostaun.

The antique arches supporting the roof, rest on pillars of a good size; the whole are beautifully carved. The dome, which was originally in the centre of this pavilion, has been nearly destroyed by time; and although the light thus thrown into the interior through the aperture, has a good effect, it pained me to see this noble edifice falling to decay for the want of timely repairs. Notwithstanding this Durgah is said to have been built so many years, the stone-work, both of the interior and exterior, is remarkably fresh in appearance, and would almost discredit its reputed age. The walls and bastions of the enclosure appear firm on their foundations; the upper part only seems at all decayed.

The side rooms to the Durgah, of which there are several on each side of the building, have all a fretwork of stone very curiously cut, which serves for windows, and admits light and air to the apartments, and presents a good screen to persons within; this it should seem was the only contrivance for windows in general use by the ancient inhabitants of Hindoostaun; and even at the present day (excepting a few Native gentlemen who have benefited by English example), glazed windows are not seen in any of the mansions in the Upper Provinces of India.

I noticed that in a few places in these buildings, where the prospect is particularly fine, small arches were left open, from whence the eye is directed to grand and superb scenery, afforded by the surrounding country, and the remains of stately buildings. From one of these arches the killaah is seen to great advantage, at the distance of two miles: both the Durgah and the killaah are erected on high points of land. I have often, whilst wandering outside the killaah, looked up at the elevation with sensations of mistrust, that whilst doing so it might, from its known insecure state, fall and bury me in its ruins; but viewing it from that distance, and on a level with the Durgah, the appearance was really gratifying.

At Kannoge are to be seen many mukhburrahs, said to have been erected over the remains of those Hindoos who at different periods had been converted to the Mussulmaun faith. This city, I am informed, has been the chosen spot of righteous men and sainted characters during all periods of the Mussulmaun rule in Hindoostaun, by whose example many idolators were brought to have respect for the name of God, and in some instances even to embrace the Mahumudan faith. Amongst the many accounts of remarkable conversions related to me by the old inhabitants of that city, I shall select one which, however marvellous in some points, is nevertheless received with full credit by the faithful of the present day:–

‘A very pious Syaad took up his residence many hundred years since at Kannoge, when the chief part of the inhabitants were Hindoos, and, as might be expected, many of them were Brahmins. He saw with grief the state of darkness with which the minds of so many human beings were imbued, and without exercising any sort of authority over them, he endeavoured by the mildest persuasions to convince these people that the adoration they paid to graven images, and the views they entertained of the river Ganges possessing divine properties, were both absurd and wicked.

‘The Syaad used his best arguments to explain to them the power and attributes of the only true God; and though his labours were unceasing, and his exemplary life made him beloved, yet for a long period all his endeavours proved unsuccessful. His advice, however, was at all times tendered with mildness, his manners so humble, and his devotion so remarkable, that in the course of time the people flocked around him, whenever he was visible, to listen to his discourse, which generally contained some words of well-timed exhortation and kind instruction. His great aim was directed towards enlightening the Brahmins, by whom, he was aware, the opinions of the whole population were influenced, and to whom alone was confined such knowledge as at that remote period was conveyed by education.

‘Ardently zealous in the great work he had commenced, the Syaad seemed undaunted by the many obstacles he had to contend with. Always retaining his temper unruffled, he combined perseverance with his solicitude, and trusted in God for a happy result in His good time. On an occasion of a great Hindoo festival the population of the then immense city were preparing to visit the Ganges, where they expected to be purified from their sins by ablution in that holy river, as they term it. The Ganges, at that period, I understand, flowed some miles distant from the city.

‘The Syaad took this occasion to exhort the multitude to believe in God; and after a preliminary discourse, explaining the power of Him whom he alone worshipped, he asked the people if they would be persuaded to follow the only true God, if His power should be demonstrated to them by the appearance of the river they adored flowing past the city of Kannoge, instead of, as at that moment, many miles distant. Some of his auditory laughed at the idea, and derided the speaker; others doubted, and asked whether the God whom the Mussulmauns worshipped possessed such power as the Syaad had attributed to Him; many Brahmins, however, agreed to the terms proposed, solemnly assuring the holy man he should find them converts to his faith if this miracle should be effected by the God he worshipped.

‘It is related that the Syaad passed the whole day and night in devout prayers; and when the morning dawned the idolators saw the river Ganges flowing past the city in all the majesty of that mighty stream.[15] The Brahmins were at once convinced, and this evidence of God’s power worked the way to the conversion of nearly the whole population of Kannoge.’

The number of the inhabitants may be supposed to have been immensely great at the period in question, as it is related that on the occasion of their conversion the Brahmins threw away the cords which distinguish them from other castes of Hindoos, (each cord weighing about a drachm English), which when collected together to be consigned to the flames, were weighed, and found to be upwards of forty-five seers; a seer in that province being nearly equal to two pounds English.[16]

The Brahmins, it will be recollected, form but a small portion of that community, and are the priesthood of the Hindoos, very similar in their order to the Levites among the children of Israel.

There are still remaining traces of monuments erected over the remains of converted Hindoos, which have been particularly pointed out to me by intelligent men, from whom I have received information of that great work which alone would render Kannoge a place of interest without another object to attract the observation of a reflecting mind.

Notwithstanding that the Ganges continues to water the banks of Kannoge, and that other proofs exist of idolatry having ceased for a considerable time to disgrace the inhabitants, it is still partially occupied by Hindoos, who retain the custom of their forefathers according to the original, whether descendants of the converted, or fresh settlers is not in my power to determine; but I may remark, without prejudice, from what I have been enabled to glean in conversation with a few Hindoos of this city, that they have a better idea of one over-ruling Supreme power than I have ever been able to find elsewhere in the same class of people.

I was much interested with an old blacksmith, who was employed at the killaah. On one occasion I asked him what views he entertained of the Source from whence all good proceeds–whether he believed in God? He replied promptly, and as if surprised that such a doubt could exist, ‘Yes, surely; it is to Allah (God) the supreme, I am indebted for my existence; Allah created all things, the world and all that is in it: I could not have been here at this moment, but for the goodness of Allah!’

There are amongst them men of good moral character, yet in a state of deplorable ignorance, a specimen of which may be here noticed in a person of property employed in the service of Government, at the killaah; he is of the caste denominated Burghutt[17],–one of the tribe which professes so great reverence for life, as to hold it sinful to destroy the meanest reptile or insect; and, therefore, entirely abstain from eating either fish, flesh, or fowl:–yet, when I pressed for his undisguised opinion, I found that he not only denied the existence of God, but declared it was his belief the world formed itself.

I was induced to walk three miles from the killaah, on a cool day in December, to view the remains of a piece of sculpture of great antiquity. I confess myself but little acquainted with Hindoo mythology, and therefore my description will necessarily be imperfect. The figure of Luchmee is represented in relief, on a slab of stone eight feet by four, surrounded by about a hundred figures in different attitudes. Luchmee, who is of course the most prominent, is figured with eight arms; in his right hands, are sabres, in his left, shields; his left foot upon the hand of a female, and the right on a snake.[18] This figure is about four feet high, and finely formed, standing in a martial attitude; his dress (unlike that of the modern Hindoo) is represented very tight, and, altogether, struck me as more resembling the European than the Asiatic: on his head I remarked a high-crowned military cap without a peak: the feet were bare. There can be no doubt this figure is emblematical; the Hindoos, however, make it an object of their impure and degrading worship.

I could not help expressing my surprise on finding this idol in such excellent condition, having had so many samples throughout Kannoge of the vengeance exercised by Mussulmaun zeal, on the idols of the Hindoos. My guide assured me, that this relic of antiquity had only been spared from the general destruction of by-gone periods by its having been buried, through the supposed influence of unconverted venerating Brahmins; but that within the last thirty years it had been discovered and dug out of the earth, to become once more an ornament to the place. My own ideas lead me to suppose that it might have been buried by the same convulsion of the earth which overturned the idolatrous city.

I observed that a very neat little building, of modern date, was erected over this antiquity, and on inquiry found that the Hindoos were indebted to the liberality of a lady for the means of preserving this relic from the ravages of the seasons.

There is in the same vicinity a second piece of mythological sculpture, in a less perfect state than Luchmee, the sabred arm of which has been struck off, and the figure otherwise mutilated by the zealous Mussulmauns, who have invariably defaced or broken the idols wherever they have been able to do so with impunity. On a platform of stone and earth, near this place, a finely-formed head of stone is placed, which my guide gravely assured me was of very ancient date, and represented Adam, the father of men!

I heard with pain during my sojourn at Kannoge, that the house of God had been made the resort of thieves; a well-known passage of Scripture struck me forcibly when the transaction was related.

I have before stated that the mosque is never allowed to be locked or closed to the public. Beneath the one I am about to speak of (a very ancient building near to Baallee Peer’s Durgah), is a vaulted suite of rooms denominated taarkhanah[19], intended as a retreat from the intense heat of the day; such as is to be met with in most great men’s residences in India. In this place, a gang of thieves from the city had long found a secure and unsuspected spot wherein to deposit their plunder. It happened, however, that very strict search was instituted after some stolen property belonging to an individual of Kannoge; whether any suspicions had been excited about the place in question, I do not recollect, but thither the police directed their steps, and after removing some loose earth they discovered many valuable articles,–shawls, gold ornaments, sabres, and other costly articles of plunder. It is presumed,–for the thieves were not known or discovered,–that they could not possibly be Mussulmauns, since the very worst characters among this people hold the house of God in such strict veneration, that they, of all persons, could not be suspected of having selected so sacred a place to deposit the spoils of the plunderer.

The process of obtaining nitre from the earth is practised at Kannoge by the Natives in the most simple way imaginable, without any assistance from art. They discover the spot where nitre is deposited by the small white particles which work through the strata of earth to the surface. When a vein is discovered, to separate the nitre from the earth, the following simple method is resorted to:–large troughs filled with water are prepared, into which the masses of earth containing nitre are thrown; the earth is allowed to remain undisturbed for some time, after which it is well stirred, and then allowed to settle; the water by this means becomes impregnated with the nitre, and is afterwards boiled in large iron pans, from which all the dirt is carefully skimmed, until the water is completely evaporated, and the nitre deposited in the pans.

I know not how far the admixture of animal bodies with the soil may tend to produce this article, but it is a fact, that those places which bear the strongest proofs of having received the bodies of both men and beasts, produce it in the greatest abundance.[20]

The retirement of Kannoge afforded me so many pleasant ways of occupying time, that I always look back to the period of my sojourn at the old killaah with satisfaction. The city is sufficiently distant from the killaah to leave the latter within reach of supplies, without the annoyance of the bustle and confusion inseparable from a Native city. In my daily wanderings a few peasantry only crossed my path; the farmers and citizens were always attentive, and willing to do us such kind offices as we at any time required. They respected, I may say venerated my husband; and I must own that my feelings oblige me to remember with gratitude the place and the people whence I drew so many benefits.

Here I could indulge in long walks without incurring the penalty of a departure from established custom, which in most well-populated parts of Hindoostaun restrains European ladies from the exercise so congenial to their health and cherished habits. Should any English-woman venture to walk abroad in the city of Lucknow, for instance,–to express their most liberal opinion of the act,–she would be judged by the Natives as a person careless of the world’s opinion. But here I was under no such constraint; my walks were daily recreations after hours of quiet study in the most romantic retirement of a ruined killaah, where, if luxury consists in perfect satisfaction with the objects by which we are surrounded, I may boast that it was found here during my two years’ residence.

[1] This is incorrect. Hindu traditions refer to a deluge, in which Manu, with the help of a fish, makes a ship, and fastening her cable to the fish’s horn, is guided to the mountain, and then he, alone of human beings, is saved.–J. Muir, _Original Sanskrit Texts_, part ii (1860), p. 324.

[2] This is merely a stupid folk etymology, comparing Kanauj with Cain.

[3] _Qil’a_.

[4] Kali Nadi, ‘black stream’, a corruption of the original name, Kalindi.

[5] _Tahsildar_.

[6] In the southern centre of the ruined citadel stand the tombs of Bala Pir and his son, Shaikh Mahdi. Shaikh Kabir, commonly called Bala Pir, is said to have been the tutor of the brother Nawabs, Dalel and Bahadur Khan. The former ruled Kanauj in the time of Shah Jahan (A.D. 1628-1651), and died after his deposition in 1666.–A. Fuehrer, _Monumental Antiquities and Inscriptions of the N.W. Provinces and Oudh_, 1891, p. 80.

[7] Horseshoes are often nailed on the gates of the tombs of Musalman saints, as at the mosque of Fatehpur Sikri.

[8] _Pir_, ‘a saint, a holy man’.

[9] _Maqbara_, ‘a sepulchre’.

[10] The Emperor Aurangzeb, A.D. 1658-1707.

[11] Khalifah, Caliph, one of the terms which have suffered degradation, often applied to cooks, tailors, barbers, or other Musalman servants.

[12] This may be the building known as Sita ki Rasoi, the kitchen of Sita, heroine of the Ramayana epic. It is described and drawn by Mrs. F. Parks (_Wanderings of a Pilgrim_, ii. 143).

[13] Butkhana.

[14] The tomb of the Saint Sa’id Shaikh Makhdum Jahaniya Jahangasht of Multan (A.D. 1308-81). Fuehrer, _op. cit._, p. 81.

[15] Many saints are credited with the power of changing the courses of rivers: see instances in W. Crooke, _Popular Religion and Folklore of N. India_, 2nd ed., ii. 218.

[16] This may be a variant of the story that after the capture of Chitor, Akbar weighed 74-1/2 _man_ (8 lbs. each) of cords belonging to the slain Rajputs.–J. Tod, _Annals of Rajasthan_, 1884, i. 349.

[17] The name has not been traced. The reference is to Jains, who are specially careful of animal life.

[18] If this is a male figure it cannot represent the goddess Lakshmi. Mrs. Parks (_Wanderings of a Pilgrim_, ii. 144) speaks of images of Rama and his brother Lakshmana, one of which may possibly be that referred to in the text.

[19] _Tahkhana_, an underground cellar.

[20] This account is fairly correct. ‘Although active saltpetre is met with under a variety of conditions, they all agree in this particular, that the salt is formed under the influence of organic matter.’–(G. Watt, _Economic Dictionary_, VI, part ii, 431 _ff_).

LETTER XX

Delhi.–Description of the city.–Marble hall–The Queen’s Mahul (palace).–Audience with the King and Queen.–Conversation with them.–Character of their Majesties.–Visit to a Muckburrah.–Soobadhaars.–The nature of the office.–Durgah of Shah Nizaam ood deen.–Tomb of Shah Allum.–Ruins in the vicinity of Delhi. –Antique pillars (Kootub) .–Prospect from its galleries.–Anecdotes of Juangheer and Khareem Zund…Page 289

My visit to Delhi, once the great capital of Hindoostaun, and the residence of the great Sultauns, has made impressions of a lasting kind, and presented a moral lesson to my mind, I should be sorry to forget in after years; for there I witnessed the tombs of righteous men in perfect repair after the lapse of many centuries, standing in the midst of the mouldering relics of kings, princes, and nobles, many of whose careers, we learn from history, was comparatively of recent date; yet, excepting in one solitary instance of Shah Allum’s grave, without so much of order remaining as would tell to the passing traveller the rank of each individual’s mausoleum, now either entirely a ruin or fast mouldering to decay.

The original city of Delhi presents to view one vast extent of ruins; abounding in mementos of departed worth, as well as in wrecks of greatness, ingenuity, and magnificence. Why the present city was erected or the former one deserted, I cannot venture an opinion, neither can I remember correctly in what reign the royal residence was changed; but judging from the remnants of the old, I should imagine it to have been equally extensive with the modern Delhi. A part of the old palace is still standing, whither the present King, Akbaar Shah,[1] occasionally resorts for days together, attracted perhaps by sympathy for his ancestors, or by that desire for change inherent in human nature, and often deemed essential to health in the climate of Hindoostaun.

The city of Delhi is enclosed by a wall; the houses, which are generally of brick or red stone, appear to good advantage, being generally elevated a story or two from the ground-floor, and more regularly constructed than is usual in Native cities. Mosques, mukhburrahs, and emaum-baarahs, in all directions, diversify the scene with good effect; whilst the various shops and bazaars, together with the outpourings of the population to and from the markets, give an animation to the whole view which would not be complete without them.

The palace occupies an immense space of ground, enclosed by high walls, and entered by a gateway of grand architecture. On either side the entrance I noticed lines of compact buildings, occupied by the military, reaching to the second gateway, which is but little inferior in style and strength to the grand entrance; and here again appear long lines of buildings similarly occupied. I passed through several of these formidable barriers before I reached the marble hall, where the King holds his durbar (court) at stated times; but as mine was a mere unceremonious visit to the King and Queen, it was not at the usual hour of durbar, and I passed through the hall without making any particular observations, although I could perceive it was not deficient in the costliness and splendour suited to the former greatness of the Indian empire.

After being conveyed through several splendid apartments, I was conducted to the Queen’s mahul[2] (palace for females), where his Majesty and the Queen were awaiting my arrival. I found on my entrance the King seated in the open air in an arm chair enjoying his hookha; the Queen’s musnud was on the ground, close by the side of her venerable husband. Being accustomed to Native society, I knew how to render the respect due from an humble individual to personages of their exalted rank. After having left my shoes at the entrance and advanced towards them, my salaams were tendered, and then the usual offering of nuzzas, first to the King and then to the Queen, who invited me to a seat on her own carpet,–an honour I knew how to appreciate from my acquaintance with the etiquette observed on such occasions.

The whole period of my visit was occupied in very interesting conversation; eager inquiries were made respecting England, the Government, the manners of the Court, the habits of the people, my own family affairs, my husband’s views in travelling, and his adventures in England, my own satisfaction as regarded climate, and the people with whom I was so immediately connected by marriage;–the conversation, indeed, never flagged an instant, for the condescending courtesy of their Majesties encouraged me to add to their entertainment, by details which seemed to interest and delight them greatly.

On taking leave his Majesty very cordially shook me by the hand, and the Queen embraced me with warmth. Both appeared, and expressed themselves, highly gratified with the visit of an English lady who could explain herself in their language without embarrassment, or the assistance of an interpreter, and who was the more interesting to them from the circumstance of being the wife of a Syaad; the Queen indeed was particular in reminding me that ‘the Syaads were in a religious point of view, the nobles of the Mussulmauns, and reverenced as such far more than those titled characters who receive their distinction from their fellow-mortals’.

I was grieved to be obliged to accept the Queen’s parting present of an embroidered scarf, because I knew her means were exceedingly limited compared with the demands upon her bounty; but I could not refuse that which was intended to do me honour at the risk of wounding those feelings I so greatly respected. A small ring, of trifling value, was then placed by the Queen on my finger, as she remarked, ‘to remind me of the giver.’

The King’s countenance, dignified by age, possesses traces of extreme beauty; he is much fairer than Asiatics usually are; his features are still fine, his hair silvery white; intelligence beams upon his brow, his conversation gentle and refined, and his condescending manners hardly to be surpassed by the most refined gentleman of Europe. I am told by those who have been long intimate with his habits in private, that he leads a life of strict piety and temperance, equal to that of a durweish[3] of his faith, whom he imitates in expending his income on others without indulging in a single luxury himself.

The Queen’s manners are very amiable and condescending; she is reported to be as highly gifted with intellectual endowments as I can affirm she is with genuine politeness.

I was induced to visit the mukhburrah of the great-great-grandfather of the present King of Oude,[4] who, at his death,–which occurred at Delhi, I believe,–was one of the Soobadhaars[5] of the sovereign ruler of India. This nobleman, in his time, had been a staunch adherent to the descendants of Timoor, and had been rewarded for his fidelity by public honours and the private friendship of the King. The monument erected over his remains, is in a costly style of magnificence, and in the best possible condition, standing in the centre of a flower-garden which is enclosed by a stone wall, with a grand gateway of good architecture. The mukhburrah is