WANDERINGS OF A PILGRIM.

1835, April 6th.—I arrived at Fathīghar, at the house of a relative in the Civil Service, the Judge of the Station, and agent to the Governor-general. After a hot and dusty dāk trip, how delightful was the coolness of the rooms, in which thermantidotes and tattīs were in full force! As may be naturally supposed, I could talk of nothing but Khāsgunge, and favoured the party with some Hindustanī airs on the sitar, which I could not persuade them to admire; to silence my sitar a dital harp was presented to me; nevertheless, I retained a secret fondness for the native instrument, which recalled the time when the happy slave girls figured before me.

Having seen Musulmānī ladies followers of the Prophet, how great was my delight at finding native ladies were, at Fathīghar, worshippers of Ganesh and Krishnjee!

Her Highness the Bāiza Bā’ī, the widow of the late Mahārāj Dāolut Rāo Scindia, was in camp at this place, under the care of Captain Ross. Dāolut Rāo, the adopted son and grand-nephew of Mahadajee Scindia, contested with the Duke of Wellington, then Sir Arthur Wellesley, the memorable field of Assaye. On the death of Scindia, by his appointment, the Bāiza Bā’ī, having become Queen of Gwalior, ruled the kingdom for nine years. Having no male issue, her Highness adopted a youth, called Jankee Rāo, a distant relative of Scindia’s, who was to be placed on the masnad at her decease.

A Rajpoot is of age at eighteen years: but when Jankee Rāo was only fourteen years old, the subjects of the Bā’ī revolted, and placed the boy at the head of the rebellion. Had her Highness remained at Gwalior she would have been murdered; she was forced to fly to Fathīghar, where she put herself under the protection of the Government. Her daughter, the Chimna Rājā Sāhib, a lady celebrated for her beauty, and the wife of Appa Sāhib, a Mahratta nobleman, died of fever, brought on by exposure and anxiety at the time she fled from Gwalior, during the rebellion. It is remarkable, that the ladies in this family take the title of Rājā, to which Sāhib is generally affixed. Appa Sāhib joined the Bāiza Bā’ī, fled with her, and is now in her camp at Fathīghar. The rebellion of her subjects, and her Highness being forced to fly the kingdom, were nothing to the Bā’ī in comparison to the grief occasioned her by the loss of her beloved daughter, the Chimna Rājā.

Her grand-daughter, the Gaja Rājā Sāhib, is also living with her; she has been married two years, but is alone, her husband having deserted her to join the stronger party.

The Bā’ī, although nominally free, is in fact a prisoner; she is extremely anxious to return to Gwalior, but is prevented by the refusal of the Government to allow her to do so; this renders her very unhappy.

8th.—The Brija Bā’ī, one of her ladies, called to invite the lady with whom I am staying to visit the Mahārāj in camp; and gave me an invitation to accompany her.

12th.—When the appointed day arrived, the attendants of her Highness were at our house at 4 A.M., to escort us to the camp.

It is customary for a visitor to leave her shoes outside the parda, when paying her respects to a lady of rank; and this custom is always complied with, unless especial leave to retain the shoes has been voluntarily given to the visitor, which would be considered a mark of great kindness and condescension.

We found her Highness seated on her gaddī of embroidered cloth, with her grand-daughter the Gaja Rājā Sāhib at her side; the ladies, her attendants, were standing around her; and the sword of Scindia was on the gaddī, at her feet. She rose to receive and embrace us, and desired us to be seated near her. The Bāiza Bā’ī is rather an old woman, with grey hair, and en bon point; she must have been pretty in her youth; her smile is remarkably sweet, and her manners particularly pleasing; her hands and feet are very small, and beautifully formed. Her sweet voice reminded me of the proverb, “A pleasant voice brings a snake out of a hole[2].” She was dressed in the plainest red silk, wore no ornaments, with the exception of a pair of small plain bars of gold as bracelets. Being a widow, she is obliged to put jewellery aside, and to submit to numerous privations and hardships. Her countenance is very mild and open; there is a freedom and independence in her air that I greatly admire,—so unlike that of the sleeping, languid, opium-eating Musalmānīs. Her grand-daughter, the Gaja Rājā Sāhib, is very young; her eyes the largest I ever saw; her face is rather flat, and not pretty; her figure is beautiful; she is the least little wee creature you ever beheld. The Mahratta dress consists only of two garments, which are, a tight body to the waist, with sleeves tight to the elbow; a piece of silk, some twenty yards or more in length, which they wind around them as a petticoat, and then, taking a part of it, draw it between the limbs, and fasten it behind, in a manner that gives it the effect both of petticoat and trowsers; this is the whole dress, unless, at times, they substitute angiyas, with short sleeves, for the tight long-sleeved body.

The Gaja Rājā was dressed in purple Benares silk, with a deep gold border woven into it; when she walked she looked very graceful, and the dress very elegant; on her forehead was a mark like a spear-head, in red paint; her hair was plaited, and bound into a knot at the back of her head, and low down; her eyes were edged with surma, and her hands and feet dyed with hinnā. On her feet and ancles were curious silver ornaments; toe-rings of peculiar form; which she sometimes wore of gold, sometimes of red coral. In her nostril was a very large and brilliant n’hut (nose-ring), of diamonds, pearls, and precious stones, of the particular shape worn by the Mahrattas; in her ears were fine brilliants. From her throat to her waist she was covered with strings of magnificent pearls and jewels; her hands and arms were ornamented with the same. She spoke but little,—scarcely five words passed her lips; she appeared timid, but was pleased with the bouquet of beautiful flowers, just fresh from the garden, that the lady who presented me laid at her feet on her entrance. These Mahrattas are a fine bold race; amongst her ladies in waiting I remarked several fine figures, but their faces were generally too flat. Some of them stood in waiting with rich Cashmere shawls thrown over their shoulders; one lady, before the Mahārāj, leaned on her sword, and if the Bā’ī quitted the apartment, the attendant and sword always followed her. The Bā’ī was speaking of horses, and the lady who introduced me said I was as fond of horses as a Mahratta. Her Highness said she should like to see an English lady on horseback; she could not comprehend how they could sit all crooked, all on one side, in the side-saddle. I said I should be too happy to ride into camp any hour her Highness would appoint, and show her the style of horsemanship practised by ladies in England. The Mahārāj expressed a wish that I should be at the Mahratta camp at 4 A.M., in two days’ time. Atr, in a silver filagree vessel, was then presented to the Gaja Rājā; she took a portion up in a little spoon, and put it on our hands. One of the attendants presented us with pān, whilst another sprinkled us most copiously with rose-water: the more you inundate your visitor with rose-water, the greater the compliment.

This being the signal for departure, we rose, made our bahut bahut adab salām, and departed, highly gratified with our visit to her Highness the ex-Queen of Gwalior.

14th.—My relative had a remarkably beautiful Arab, and as I wished to show the Bā’ī a good horse, she being an excellent judge, I requested him to allow me to ride his Arab; and that he might be fresh, I sent him on to await my arrival at the zenāna gates. A number of Mahratta horsemen having been despatched by her Highness to escort me to the camp, I cantered over with them on my little black horse, and found the beautiful Arab impatiently awaiting my arrival.

Leetle Paul’s description of his “courser proud” is beautiful; but his steed was not more beautiful than the Arab, who, adorned with a garland of freshly-gathered white double jasmine flowers, pawed impatiently at the gates. I mounted him, and entering the precincts of the zenāna, found myself in a large court, where all the ladies of the ex-Queen were assembled, and anxiously looking for the English lady, who would ride crooked! The Bā’ī was seated in the open air; I rode up, and, dismounting, paid my respects. She remarked the beauty of the Arab, felt the hollow under his jaw, admired his eye, and, desiring one of the ladies to take up his foot, examined it, and said he had the small, black, hard foot of the pure Arab; she examined and laughed at my saddle. I then mounted, and putting the Arab on his mettle, showed her how English ladies manage their horses. When this was over, three of the Bāiza Bā’ī’s own riding horses were brought out by the female attendants; for we were within the zenāna, where no man is allowed to enter. The horses were in full caparison, the saddles covered with velvet and kimkhwab and gold embroidery, their heads and necks ornamented with jewels and chains of gold. The Gaja Rājā, in her Mahratta riding dress, mounted one of the horses, and the ladies the others; they cantered and pranced about, showing off the Mahratta style of riding. On dismounting, the young Gaja Rājā threw her horse’s bridle over my arm, and said, laughingly, “Are you afraid? or will you try my horse?” Who could resist such a challenge? “I shall be delighted,” was my reply. “You cannot ride like a Mahratta in that dress,” said the Princess; “put on proper attire.” I retired to obey her commands, returning in Mahratta costume, mounted her horse, put my feet into the great iron stirrups, and started away for a gallop round the enclosure. I thought of Queen Elizabeth, and her stupidity in changing the style of riding for women. En cavalier, it appeared so safe, as if I could have jumped over the moon. Whilst I was thus amusing myself, “Shāh-bāsh! shāh-bāsh!” exclaimed some masculine voice; but who pronounced the words, or where the speaker lay perdu, I have never discovered.

“Now,” said I to the Gaja Rājā, “having obeyed your commands, will you allow one of your ladies to ride on my side-saddle?” My habit was put on one of them; how ugly she looked! “She is like a black doctor!” exclaimed one of the girls. The moment I got the lady into the saddle, I took the rein in my hand, and riding by her side, started her horse off in a canter; she hung on one side, and could not manage it at all; suddenly checking her horse, I put him into a sharp trot. The poor lady hung half off the animal, clinging to the pummel, and screaming to me to stop; but I took her on most unmercifully, until we reached the spot where the Bāiza Bā’ī was seated; the walls rang with laughter; the lady dismounted, and vowed she would never again attempt to sit on such a vile crooked thing as a side-saddle. It caused a great deal of amusement in the camp.

The Mahratta ladies live in parda, but not in such strict seclusion as the Musalmānī ladies; they are allowed to ride on horseback veiled; when the Gaja Rājā goes out on horseback, she is attended by her ladies; and a number of Mahratta horsemen ride at a certain distance, about two hundred yards around her, to see that the kurk is enforced; which is an order made public that no man may be seen on the road on pain of death.

The Hindoos never kept their women in parda, until their country was conquered by the Muhammadans; when they were induced to follow the fashion of their conquerors; most likely, from their unveiled women being subject to insult.

The Bāiza Bā’ī did me the honour to express herself pleased, and gave me a title, “The Great-aunt of my Grand-daughter,” “Gaja Rājā Sāhib ki par Khāla.” This was very complimentary, since it entitled me to rank as the adopted sister of her Highness.

A part of the room in which the ex-Queen sits is formed into a domestic temple, where the idols are placed, ornamented with flowers, and worshipped; at night they are lighted up with lamps of oil, and the priests are in attendance.

The Mahratta ladies are very fond of sailing on the river, but they are equally in parda in the boats as on shore.

The next day the Bāiza Bā’ī sent down all her horses in their gay native trappings, for me to look at; also two fine rhinoceroses, which galloped about the grounds in their heavy style, and fought one another; the Bā’ī gave five thousand rupees (£500) for the pair; sweetmeats and oranges pleased the great animals very much.

When Captain Ross quitted, her Highness was placed under the charge of the agent to the Governor-general. I visited the Bā’ī several times, and liked her better than any native lady I ever met with.

A Hindoo widow is subject to great privations; she is not allowed to wear gay attire or jewels, and her mourning is eternal. The Bāiza Bā’ī always slept on the ground, according to the custom for a widow, until she became very ill from rheumatic pains; after which she allowed herself a hard mattress, which was placed on the ground; a charpāī being considered too great a luxury.

She never smoked, which surprised me: having seen the Musalmānī ladies so fond of a hooqŭ, I concluded the Mahratta ladies indulged in the same luxury.

The Mahratta men smoke the hooqŭ as much as all other natives, and the Bā’ī had a recipe for making tobacco cakes, that were highly esteemed in camp. The cakes are, in diameter, about four inches by one inch in thickness; a small quantity added to the prepared tobacco usually smoked in a hooqŭ imparts great fragrance; the ingredients are rather difficult to procure[3].

Speaking of the privations endured by Hindoo widows, her Highness mentioned that all luxurious food was denied them, as well as a bed; and their situation was rendered as painful as possible. She asked me how an English widow fared?

I told her, “An English lady enjoyed all the luxury of her husband’s house during his life; but, on his death, she was turned out of the family mansion, to make room for the heir, and pensioned off; whilst the old horse was allowed the run of the park, and permitted to finish his days amidst the pastures he loved in his prime.” The Hindoo widow, however young, must not marry again.

The fate of women and of melons is alike. “Whether the melon falls on the knife or the knife on the melon, the melon is the sufferer[4].”

We spoke of the severity of the laws of England with respect to married women, how completely by law they are the slaves of their husbands, and how little hope there is of redress.

You might as well “Twist a rope of sand[5],” or “Beg a husband of a widow[6],” as urge the men to emancipate the white slaves of England.

“Who made the laws?” said her Highness. I looked at her with surprise, knowing she could not be ignorant on the subject. “The men,” said I; “why did the Mahārāj ask the question?” “I doubted it,” said the Bā’ī, with an arch smile, “since they only allow themselves one wife.”

“England is so small,” I replied, “in comparison with your Highness’s Gwalior; if every man were allowed four wives, and obliged to keep them separate, the little island could never contain them; they would be obliged to keep the women in vessels off the shore, after the fashion in which the Chinese keep their floating farm-yards of ducks and geese at anchor.”

“Is your husband angry with you?” asked the Brija, the favourite attendant of her Highness. “Why should you imagine it?” said I. “Because you have on no ornaments, no jewellery.”

The Bāiza Bā’ī sent for the wives of Appa Sāhib to introduce them to me. The ladies entered, six in number; and walking up to the gaddī, on which the Bā’ī was seated, each gracefully bowed her head, until her forehead touched the feet of her Highness. They were fine young women, from fifteen to twenty-five years old. The five first wives had no offspring; the sixth, who had been lately married, was in expectation of a bābā.

Appa Sāhib is the son-in-law of the ex-Queen; he married her daughter, the Chimna Bā’ī, who died of fever at the time they were driven out of Gwalior.

SUPERSTITIONS OF THE NATIVES.

The natives are extremely superstitious respecting the lucky and unlucky marks on horses. The following are some of the marks best known, respecting which their ideas are curious:

The favourable marks are the deōband, the bhora, and the panch kalian.

The unlucky marks or aiibs are the sampan, siyah-tālū, small eyes, and a star of a particular sort on the forehead.

The deōband is the feather on the chest: this mark is very rare, and the best of all marks. If a horse have the deōband, it is the rok or antidote to the sampan and all other bad marks.

The bhorahs are the two feathers, one on each side of the neck, just under the mane. If there be two bhorahs turning towards the ears of the horse it is favourable, a very good sign. If there be only one bhora it is tolerably good. If the feather turn towards the rider it is called the sampan; a bhora on one side and a sampan on the other neutralizes both bad and good qualities.

The panch kalian. The natives admire a panch-kalian, as they call it, very much, that is, a horse with five marks, as follows:—all four legs white to the knees, stockings as they are called, and a white muzzle with a white blaze from the muzzle up the forehead. According to my idea, such a horse in appearance is only fit for a butcher’s tray. Nevertheless, the natives admire them, and I have seen many good horses of this description.

The sampan. When the feather on the neck of a horse on either side turns towards the rider, it is called sampan; this is a very bad mark, indeed the worst; but, if there be two sampans, one on each side the neck, have nothing to say to the animal, he is an Harām-zāda, given to rearing and squalling; is vicious, and will be the death of his rider.

The siyah-tālū or black palate is a very bad sign; such horses are regularly bad, and are never to be depended upon: no native will purchase an animal having, as it is usually called, the shatāloo.

Small eyes are the sign of a sulky horse.

The star on the forehead. No native will purchase a horse if he can cover the star on the forehead with the ball of his thumb. And in buying a horse from a native, look to that mark, as they take the white hairs out with a certain application. A large star is a good sign. No star at all is of no consequence; but a few white hairs proclaim a bad horse, and no native will buy him.

With respect to the colour of horses, they are fanciful. Greys are admired: black horses are also considered handsome: bays are good: chestnuts very bad.

With regard to Arabs, they are extremely particular as to the perfect straightness of the forehead, from the top of it down to the nose; the slightest rise on that part proving in their ideas a want of perfect pedigree. The deep hollow under the jaw is absolutely necessary; the small mouth, and the open, large, thin-skinned nostrils; the eyes large and fine; the hoof small, black, and hard; and the long tail. These points attract the particular attention of the natives. “Bay in all his eight joints[7].” Horses of that colour are esteemed hardy and active.

The prophet judged shicàl bad in a horse: shicàl is, when a horse has the right hind-foot and the left fore-foot, or the right fore-foot and the left hind-foot, white.

The amble of a native horse is a quiet, quick pace, but not agreeable at first to one accustomed to the paces of horses broken in by Europeans: the Mahratta bit is extremely sharp, and throws a horse well on his haunches.

I have seen a young horse, being taught to amble, with a rope tied to each fetlock; it made him take short steps, moving the two legs of the same side at the same time; it is a natural pace to a horse over-loaded.

Horses in India are usually fastened with two ropes to the head stall, and the two hind-legs have a rope fastened on each fetlock, which rope is secured to a stake behind the animal, long enough to allow of his lying down: these are called āgārī-pichhārī.

In Shakespear’s Dictionary, hirdāwal is mentioned as the name of a defect in horses, and its being a feather or curling lock of hair on the breast, which is reckoned unlucky for the rider.

It is written, speaking of the Prophet Mohammud, “There was nothing his Highness was so fond of, after women, as horses; and after horses as perfumes; and the marks of good horses are these: the best horses are black, with white foreheads, and having a white upper lip; next to that, a black horse, with white forehead and three white legs; next to this is a bay horse of these marks: a bay, with white forehead, white fore and hind legs, is best; and a sorrel with white fore and hind legs is also good. Prosperity is with sorrel horses. I heard the Prophet say, ‘Do not cut the hair of your horses’ foreheads, nor of their necks, nor of their tails; because verily horses keep the flies off with their tails, and their manes cover their necks, and blessings are interwoven with the hair of their foreheads,’ ‘Tie up your horses and make them fat for fighting, and wipe off the dust from their foreheads and rumps; and tie bells to their necks.’”

This latter command is curious, as in the “Rites of Travelling” it is mentioned, “The angels are not with that party with which is a dog, nor with that party with which is a bell.” “A bell is the devil’s musical instrument.” “Kill black dogs having two white spots upon their eyes; for verily this kind of dog is the devil.”

The natives cannot understand why Europeans cut off the tails of their horses, and consider it a disgusting and absurd practice. An officer in the artillery related a story of having sold an old Persian horse, with a tail sweeping the ground, to a friend at Fathīghar. When the sā’īs returned, Captain A— asked him how the horse was liked, and if he was well. “Ahi, Sāhib!” said the sā’īs, “I had no sooner delivered him up than they cut off his tail, and the poor old horse was of such high caste that he could not bear such an indignity, and next morning he died of shame!” “Sharmandī ho mar-gayā.” The English may be a very civilized nation, but this cutting off the tails of their horses, nicking the bone, and scoring fish alive, savour somewhat of barbarism: all that can be urged in its defence is, it is the custom (dastūr).

The natives are extremely superstitious, and delight in incantations. “God save you, uncle!” is the address of a Hindoo to a goblin, of which he is afraid, to prevent its hurting him[8].

Her Highness the Bāiza Bā’ī, having heard of the great fame of my cabinet of curiosities, requested some tigers’ claws for the Gaja Rājā. I wrote to a friend in Assam, who sent me a quart of tigers’ claws! regretting he was unable to procure more. If you kill a tiger, the servants steal his claws as quickly as possible to send to their wives to make into charms, which both the women and children wear around their necks. They avert the evil eye and keep off maladies. The Gaja Rājā was pleased at having procured the claws, and her horse’s neck was adorned with some five-and-twenty ornaments or more strung together, each made like the one appended to the chain in the sketch; it must have been valuable, being formed of pure gold.

The charm, No. 1 in the sketch, I had made by my own workman in the bazār, in solid silver, a copy from a necklace worn by the wife of one of my servants Dilmīr Khān. “Not one, but seventy misfortunes it keeps off[9].” The tiger’s claws are tipped and set in silver; the back opens with a hinge, and the Jadu-ke-Bāt, a written charm, is therein concealed, the efficacy of which, added to the claws, ensures certain prosperity to the possessor, and averts the evil eye. No lady in India can wear any thing so valueless as silver, of which the ornaments made for her servants are composed. Whether Musalmānī or Hindoo, the women are delighted with the claws of the tiger. When an amulet, in form like No. 2 in the sketch, is made for a child, two of the teeth of the crocodile are put into it in lieu of tigers’ claws. To-day a child in the Fort met its death by accident. The natives say, “How could it be lucky when it wore no charm to protect it?” Baghnā is the name for the amulet consisting of the teeth and claws of a tiger, which are hung round the neck of a grown-up person or of a child.

The Prophet forbids the use of certain amulets, saying, “Verily, spells, and tying to the necks of children the nails of tearing animals, and the thread which is tied round a wife’s neck, to make her husband love her, are all of the way of the polytheists.”

“It is the custom in Hindoostan to keep a monkey in or near a stable, to guard the horses from the influence of evil eyes. In Persia, the animal so retained is a hog; and in some parts of England, a goat is considered a necessary appendage to a stable, though, possibly, from some other equally fanciful motive.”

The owl is considered an unlucky bird. “One-eyed men have a vein extra[10];” and are supposed to be more knowing than others. And I have before mentioned that an opinion prevails in wild and mountainous parts of India, that the spirit of a man destroyed by a tiger sometimes rides upon his head, and guides him from his pursuers.

I have never seen it done in India, but I have heard from very good authority, that there are men who profess to be able to tame the most vicious horse by whispering into his ear; a man will go up to a violent animal, whisper to it, and the creature will become tranquil. Catlin, in his account of the North American Indians, says: “After having caught a wild horse with a lasso, the Indian gradually advances until he is able to place his hand on the animal’s nose, and over its eyes, and at length to breathe in its nostrils; when it soon becomes docile and conquered, so that he has little else to do than to remove the hobbles from its feet, and lead or ride it into camp.” And in another part of the work, Catlin says: “I have often, in concurrence with a known custom of the country, held my hands over the eyes of the calf, and breathed a few strong breaths into its nostrils; after which I have, with my hunting companions, rode several miles into our encampment, with the little prisoner busily following the heels of my horse the whole way, as closely and as affectionately as its instinct would attach it to the company of its dam! This is one of the most extraordinary things I have met with in this wild country; and although I had often heard of it, and felt unable exactly to believe it, I am now willing to bear testimony to the fact, from the numerous instances I have witnessed since I came into the country.”

In explanation of the coin, marked No. 9, in the plate entitled “Superstitions of the Natives,” I must give an extract from the letter of a friend:—

“To entertain that amenity so requisite for the obtaining a note from you, I send, under the seal wherewith I seal my letter, ‘a little money,’ as a first instalment. The form of the coin is meant to be octagonal; that form is more evident on those that are larger. Now for the coin’s explanation: It bears the seal of Rajah Gowrinath Singh, who succeeded his father Luckhishingh, in Assam, 1780; he was of a hot temper, and a liberal. After reigning five years, he was expelled by Bhurrethi Moran Rajah of Bengmoran. Gowrinath Singh fled to Gowhatty, and having got the Company to take his part, Captain Wallis was sent with an armed force to reinstate him on the throne; this was performed, but at the cost of incredible destruction of towns, villages, cultivation, and all that sort of thing. Since those days, Assam has been a jungle. Finding Rungpore, his capital, depopulated, Gowrinath caused a palace to be built on the banks of the Deshoi, where he lived in tranquillity ten years; the place became populous, and though the palace has fallen into ruins, it still exists as a town, under the name of Deshoi Khote. Gowrinath Singh died in 1795, having reigned in Assam fifteen years. I will send you his inscription, which is in part only on the coin enclosed; but I must get it from my learned Pundit. Other and older coins are found, both of gold and silver, but of no baser metal; copper appears to have been unknown for that purpose.”

No. 10 is the larger octagonal coin mentioned in the above extract, and was forwarded to me as a second instalment from Assam.