1825.—A Day in March—The Furlough and Pension Funds—Bandicote Rats—The Strand—The Cutting System—Harrow-on-the-Hill—Sickness in Arracan—The Golden Feet—Arrival of Lord Combermere—Bhurtpore—La Pucelle—Marsh Fever—Change of Residence to Middleton Row, Chowringhee—Fogs up to the Second Story—Burrā Bazār—Seed Pearl.
January, 1825.—The cold weather is delightful, and a Persian carpet pleasant over the Indian matting, but a fire is not required—indeed, few houses in Calcutta have a fire-place. Ice is sent from Hoogly, and is procurable in the bazaar during the cold weather; it is preserved in pits for the hot season.
March 23rd.—I will describe a day at this time of the year. At 6 A.M. it is so cold that a good gallop in a cloth habit will just keep you warm. At 9 A.M.—a fine breeze—very pleasant—windows open—no pankhā.
3 P.M.—Blue linen blinds lowered to keep off the glare of the sunshine, which is distressing to the eyes; every Venetian shut, the pankhā in full swing, the very musquitoes asleep on the walls, yourself asleep on a sofa, not a breath of air—a dead silence around you.
4 P.M.—A heavy thunder-storm, with the rain descending in torrents; you stop the pankhā, rejoice in the fraîcheur, and are only prevented from taking a walk in the grounds by the falling rain.
5 P.M.—You mount your Arab, and enjoy the coolness for the remainder of the day;—such is to-day.
April 11th.—The hot winds are blowing for the first time this year.
We understand that after twenty-five years’ service, and twenty-two of actual residence in India, we of the Civil Service are to retire upon an annuity of 1000l. a year, for which we are to pay 50,000 rupees, or about 5000l. This, on first appearance, looks well for us and generous in the Company; but I should like first to know, how many will be able to serve their full time of bondage? secondly, what the life of a man, an annuitant, is then worth, who has lingered two and twenty years in a tropical climate?
May 9th.—The heat is intense—very oppressive. I dare not go to church for fear of its bringing on fits, which might disturb the congregation; you have little idea of the heat of a collection of many assembled in such a climate—even at home, with all appliances and means to boot for reducing the temperature, the heat is sickening. You in England imagine a lady in India has nothing to do. For myself, I superintend the household, and find it difficult at times to write even letters, there is so much to which it is necessary to attend. At this moment I would willingly be quiet, but am continually interrupted. The coachman, making his salām, “Mem sāhiba, Atlas is very ill, I cannot wait for the sāhib’s return; I have brought the horse to the door, will you give your orders?” The durwān (gate-keeper), “Mem Sāhiba, the deer have jumped over the wall, and have run away.” The sirdar-bearer, “Mem sāhiba, will you advance me some rupees to make a great feast? My wife is dead.” The mate-bearer then presented his petition, “Will the mem sāhiba give me a plaister? the rats have gnawed my fingers and toes.” It is a fact that the lower part of the house is overrun with enormous rats, they bite the fingers and feet of the men when they are asleep on the ground.
The other evening I was with my beautiful and charming friend, Mrs. F—, she had put her infant on a mat, where it was quietly sleeping in the room where we were sitting. The evening darkened, a sharp cry from the child startled us—a bandicote rat had bitten one of its little feet!
It is reported the Burmese war is nearly finished. I hope it may be true; it is a horrible sacrifice of human life, a war in such a climate! I hear much of all the hardships of fighting against the climate endured by the military, from friends who return to Calcutta on sick leave.
When we arrived in Calcutta the only drive was on the Course, which was well-watered; a fine broad road has since been made along the side of the river, about two miles in length; it is a delightful drive in the evening, close to the ships.
The Course is deserted for the Strand.
June 25th.—The Furlough and Pension Fund for the Civil Service has been established; we subscribe four per cent. from our salary, for which we are allowed by Government six per cent. interest, towards the purchase of an annuity of 1000l. after twenty-five years service. A very strong inducement this to economy—yet human nature is very contrary.
Nevertheless, we will return home as soon as we can.
Our friend Mr. C— is going down to Bulloah, a savage spot, where he is to make salt; he takes down three couple of hounds to assist him in his labours.
Provided there is a good bulky dividend at the end of the year upon India Stock, the holders think the country flourishing in the greatest security. Every governor who is sent out is told that the principal thing to be considered is economy. Lord Moira, who had a becoming horror of such petitesses, and who saw the political danger of carrying the cutting system into practice, in several instances refused to adopt the measures he was intrusted to execute. Yet India was never in a more flourishing state; dividends on India Stock never looked up more cheerfully. Lord Amherst has applied the paring-knife, and much good it has done;—the military ran riot[22], the civilians were inclined to grow rusty, and India Bonds were very dismal and looking down.
A letter appeared in the Gazette the other day, in which the Harrow boys were spoken of in an irreverend manner, which elicited the following answer from the sāhib[23]:—
“To the Editor of the Government Gazette.
“June, 1825.
“Sir,
“In one of your late papers I was much amused by a report of the proceedings of a ‘Morning at Bow Street,’ during which the behaviour of the Harrow boys was brought to the notice of that worthy magistrate, Sir R. Birnie. To suppose that these young gentlemen are accustomed to parade the streets with sticks charged with lead, searching for snobs with heads to correspond, and carrying pistols loaded with the same metal in their pockets to confer the coup-de-grâce upon these unfortunates, would be to believe, what
Excuse Latin, the English proverb is somewhat coarse.
“I recollect the operative artisan Jones: he succeeded an excellent farrier, who emigrated with Sir Bellingham Graham, one of our worthies. Unless Jones had in the first instance made himself obnoxious to the boys, which from W. L.’s account is more than possible, they would not have interfered with him. The whole account I know to be sadly exaggerated; you are, perhaps, an advocate for the publicity of these reports, so should I be, were they not for the most part so outrageously surchargés. The ‘Gentlemen of the Press’ think truth needs the aid of foreign ornament, for in this particular instance neither pistols nor sticks, loaded or unloaded, were seen, or afterwards discovered to have been in the possession of the boys, but were gratuitously conferred upon them by the reporters.
“Shall such fellows as these be allowed to bespatter an institution which reckons Sir William Jones, Lord Byron, Parr, and others ‘dear to memory and to fame,’ among her mighty dead—and Lord Teignmouth, the Marquis of Hastings, Messrs. Peel, Barry Cornwall, and myself, among her mighty living[24]?
“You will, I know, excuse me. I am by nature modest, even as an American, but having been hitherto particular as to my society, if I am to be damned to everlasting fame, it must be in good company!
“We are so few and far between in this country, that we cannot form a corps to show our esprit, yet even in this wilderness will I upraise my solitary voice in praise of Harrow-on-the-Hill.—Floreat in æternum!—Hoping that I have said enough ‘to Harrow up your soul,’
“I am, your’s,
“One of the Old School.”
“Jungle Mehals.”
August 6th.—The natives, especially the Hindūs, are dying by hundreds daily in the damp and marshy part of Calcutta; 410 died in one night of cholera and fever, both of which are raging fearfully. They sleep in such swampy places, in the open air, it is only surprising they are not all carried off. Last month a fever amongst the Europeans was universal, many died of it; it has disappeared, and Calcutta is tolerably healthy; the cholera has not attacked the Europeans.
September 18th.—We now consider ourselves fairly fixed in Calcutta; the climate agrees with us; and though we hold existence upon a frailer tenure than those in England, we still hope to see many happy years.
Furlough and the pension must make amends.
The cold season is the only time in which we live, and breathe, and have our being, the rest of the year is mere “leather and prunella,” and we “groan and sweat under a weary life.”
But then in Calcutta, we do not die of the blue devils, ennui, or from want of medical attendance, as those do who are far removed; and even the maladie du pays is relieved by the constant letters and news we receive from our native land.
The Burmese seem to have adopted the plan of the Russians, and left their infernal climate to fight their battles; it has done it most wofully—fever has killed more men than the sword. Our troops are now waiting for the breaking up of the rains, to recommence operations. It is supposed that they will meet with little difficulty in making their way to Amrapūrā, the capital; but if they do, it seems that the king and his court will not wait for their arrival, but start with their valuables to the mountains. There has been a sad waste of life and money. Commissioners have now been appointed. Report says that Sir Archibald Campbell’s spirit is too bellicose; and the deputation (civil) to Rangoon is to check his warlike excesses. The company profess that they do not wish for an extent of territory; so that the present war has been entered into solely for the purpose of avenging the insults that have been offered to their arms. I wish most sincerely that they had been contented with holding what they had, instead of proclaiming war; and probably they may be of the same opinion. The papers say that a truce has been entered into with the Burmese, for the purposes of negotiation. Within these few days we have heard that it has been prolonged, in order that our terms might be submitted to the Golden Feet. It is to be hoped that they will not trample upon them, and that this most detestable war, which has cost so many lives and so much money, may be honourably concluded.
Lord Combermere has determined to proceed immediately to the Upper Provinces, and to have a fling at Bhurtpore. There is no doubt as to the event being successful, but the natives have a great conceit about it; it is another Pucelle, as it has never yet been taken. In Lord Lake’s time, our troops were three times repulsed; but that is a tale of the times of old, when these matters were conducted on too small a scale. Now there is to be a fine park of artillery, fully capable of making an impression on the heart of this obdurate maiden. It will do much service in taking the conceit out of these people. They have songs, and even caricatures, in which Europeans are drawn as craving for mercy under their victorious swords, to the number of three or four to one Mahratta horseman. It is an old grudge, and our sipahīs fancy the affair hugely. We took Bhurtpore last night over the whist-table, by a coup de main; I trust we shall be able to play our cards as well when before it. This will be of a different nature altogether from the vile Burmese war. Those who fall will die nobly in battle, not by the host of diseases by which our poor fellows have been sacrificed at Rangoon and Arracan.
The early marriages which take place in India were brought under my eye this morning. My ayha being ill, sent another to act for her during her absence; she is a pretty little woman, aged twenty-five, and has been married fourteen years!
The sickness in Arracan is dreadful; ship-loads of officers and men are arriving daily, with shaved heads and white faces, bearing testimony of the marsh fever, considering themselves most fortunate in having quitted the country alive.
Imagine living in a straw-shed, exposed to the burning sun and the torrents of rain that fall in this country; the nights cold, raw, and wet; the fog arising from the marshes spreading fever in every direction. Where the sword kills one, the climate carries off an hundred.
Oct.—Lord Combermere intends to render the cold weather gay with balls and dinner parties. His staff are quite a relief to the eye, looking so well dressed, so fresh and European. They express themselves horrified at beholding the fishy hue of the faces on the Course; wonder how they are ever to stay at home during the heat of the day, and sigh for gaiety and variety. Speaking of the ladies in the East, one of them said, “Amongst the womankind, there are some few worth the trouble of running away with; but then the exertion would be too much for the hot season; and in the cold, we shall have something else to think about!”
Dec. 1st.—We changed our residence for one in Middleton-row, Chowringhee, having taken a dislike to the house in which we were residing, from its vicinity to tanks and native huts.
The house has a good ground floor and two stories above, with verandahs to each; the rent 325 rupees per month; the third story consists of bed-rooms. The deep fogs in Calcutta rise thick and heavy as high as the first floor; from the verandah of the second you may look down on the white fog below your feet, whilst the stars are bright above, and the atmosphere clear around you. The spotted deer play about the compound, and the mouse deer runs about my dressing-room, doing infinite mischief.
The Barā bazār, the great mart where shawls are bought, is worth visiting. It is also interesting to watch the dexterity with which seed pearls are bored by the natives. This operation being one of difficulty, they tell me seed pearls are sent from England to be pierced in Calcutta.