1835, Sept. 8th.—A deputation arrived from her Highness the Bāiza Bā’ī, claiming protection from the Agent to the Government, on account of a mutiny in her camp. She was fearful of being murdered, as her house was surrounded by three hundred and fifty mutinous soldiers, armed with matchlocks and their palitas ready lighted. The mutineers demanded seven months pay; and finding it was not in her power to give it to them, they determined to have recourse to force, and seized her treasurer, her paymaster, and four other officers. These unfortunate men they had made prisoners for seven days, keeping them secured to posts and exposed the whole day to the sun, and only giving them a little sherbet to drink. The Agent to the Government having called out the troops, marched down with them to the Mahratta Camp, where they seized the guns.

The mutineers would not come to terms, or lay down their arms. The troops spent the night in the Camp; at daybreak they charged into the zenāna compound, killed eight mutineers, and wounded nine: the guns were fired at the Mahratta horsemen, who were outside; after which the men laid down their arms, and tranquillity was restored.

The magistrate of the station, who had gone in with the troops, was engaged with two of the mutineers, when all three fell into a well; a Mahratta from above having aimed his spear at him, an officer struck the weapon aside and killed the assailant; the spear glanced off and only inflicted a slight wound. The moment Colonel J— charged the mutineers in the zenāna compound, they murdered their prisoners, the treasurer and the paymaster, in cold blood; the other four officers escaped in the tumult. The greater part of her Highness’s troops being disaffected, they could not be trusted to quell the mutiny; she was therefore compelled to ask for assistance. It was feared her troops, which amounted to eighteen hundred, might attempt to plunder the city and station, and be off to Gwalior; and there being only two hundred of the Company’s troops, and three guns at Fathīghar, the military were sent for from other stations, and a large body of police called out. The Bāiza Bā’ī despatched a lady several times to say she wished me to visit her; this was during the time she was a prisoner in her house, surrounded by the mutineers with their matches lighted. The agent for the Government would not allow me to go, lest they should seize and keep me a prisoner with the Bā’ī’s officers. I was therefore obliged to send word I could not obey the commands of her Highness on that account.

Emissaries from Gwalior are at the bottom of all this. The camp was in great ferment yesterday: it would be of no consequence, if we had a few more troops at the station; but two hundred infantry are sad odds against eighteen hundred men, one thousand of whom are horsemen; and they have three guns also.

17th.—Infantry have come in from Mynpooree and cavalry from Cawnpore, therefore every thing is safe in case the Mahrattas should mutiny again.

24th.—The Governor-General’s agent allowed me to accompany him to the camp. He took some armed horsemen from the police as an escort in case of disturbance. The Bāiza Bā’ī received me most kindly, as if I were an old friend. I paid my respects, and almost immediately quitted the room, as affairs of state were to be discussed. The Gaja Rājā took me into a pretty little room, which she had just built on the top of the house as a sleeping-room for herself. Her charpāī (bed) swung from the ceiling; the feet were of gold, and the ropes by which it swung were covered with red velvet and silver bands. The mattress, stuffed with cotton, was covered with red and blue velvet: the cases of three large pillows were of gold and red kimkhwab; and there were a number of small flat round pillows covered with velvet. The counterpane was of gold and red brocade. In this bed she sleeps, and is constantly swung during her repose. She was dressed in black gauze and gold, with a profusion of jewellery, and some fresh flowers I had brought for her were in her hair. She invited me to sit on the bed, and a lady stood by swinging us. The Gaja Rājā has a very pretty figure, and looked most fairy-like on her decorated bed. When the affairs of state had been settled, we returned to the Bā’ī. Rose-water, pān, and atr of roses having been presented, I took my leave.

28th.—I was one of a party who paid a visit of state to her Highness. Nothing remarkable occurred. As we were on the point of taking our departure, the Bā’ī said she had heard of the beauty of my pinnace, and would visit it the next morning. This being a great honour, I said I would be in attendance, and would have the vessel anchored close to the Bā’ī’s own ghāt, at which place she bathes in the holy Ganges. On my return home, a number of people were set hard to work, to fit the vessel for the reception of the Bā’ī. Every thing European was removed, tables, chairs, &c. The floors of the cabins were covered with white cloth, and a gaddī placed in each for her Highness.

29th.—The vessel was decorated with a profusion of fresh flowers; she was drawn up to the ghāt, close to a flight of steps; and the canvas walls of tents were hung around her on every side, so that no spectators could see within. The sailors all quitted her, and she was then ready to receive the ladies of the Mahratta camp. Although I was at the spot at 4 A.M., the Bā’ī and hundreds of her followers were there before me. She accompanied me on board with all her ladies, and on seeing such a crowd in the vessel, asked if the numbers would not sink her. The Bā’ī admired the pinnace very much; and observing the satī, which stood in one corner of the cabin, covered with flowers, I informed her Highness I had brought the headless figure to eat the air on the river; that Ganges water and flowers were daily offered her; that her presence was fortunate, as it brought an easterly wind. The Bā’ī laughed; and, after conversing for an hour, she quitted the vessel, and returned to her apartment on the ghāt. The Gaja Rājā and her ladies went into the inner cabin; Appa Sāhib, the Bā’ī’s son-in-law, came on board with his followers, the vessel was unmoored, and they took a sail on the river. The scene was picturesque. Some hundreds of Mahratta soldiers were dispersed in groups on the high banks amongst the trees; their elephants, camels, horses, and native carriages standing near the stone ghāts, and by the side of white temples. The people from the city were there in crowds to see what was going forward. On our return from the excursion on the river, I accompanied the Gaja Rājā to the Bā’ī; and, having made my salām, returned home, not a little fatigued with the exertion of amusing my guests. During the time we were on the water, Appa Sāhib played various Hindostanee and Mahratta airs on the sitar. It must have been a great amusement to the zenāna ladies, quite a gaiety for them, and a variety in their retired mode of life. They were all in their holiday dresses, jewels, and ornaments. Some wore dresses of bright yellow, edged with red, with black Cashmere shawls thrown over their shoulders; this costume was very picturesque. The Gaja Rājā wore a dress of black and gold, with a yellow satin tight body beneath it; enormous pearls in profusion, ornaments of gold on her arms, and silver ornaments on her ankles and toes; slippers of crimson and gold.

Oct. 2nd.—The Ganges at Farrukhabad is so full of sandbanks, and so very shallow, that fearing if I detained the pinnace, I might have some chance of being unable to get her down to Cawnpore, I sent her off with half the servants to that place to await my arrival; I shall go dāk in a palanquin, and the rest of the people can float down in the cook boat.

7th.—I called on the Bā’ī; and while she was employed on state affairs, retired with the Gaja Rājā to the pretty little room before mentioned. There I found a Hindoo idol, dressed in cloth of gold, and beads, lying on the floor on a little red and purple velvet carpet. Two other idols were in niches at the end of the room. The idol appeared to be a plaything, a doll: I suppose, it had not been rendered sacred by the Brahmans. An idol is of no value until a Brahman dip it, with divers prayers and ceremonies, into the Gunga; when this ceremony has been performed, the spirit of the particular deity represented by the figure enters the idol. This sort of baptism is particularly expensive, and a source of great revenue to the Brahmans. The church dues fall as heavily on the poor Hindoo, as on the people of England; nevertheless, the heads of the Hindoo church do not live in luxury like the Bishops.

The fakīr, who from a religious motive, however mistaken, holds up both arms, until they become withered and immovable, and who, being, in consequence, utterly unable to support himself, relies in perfect faith on the support of the Almighty, displays more religion than the man, who, with a salary of £8000 per annum, leaves the work to be done by curates, on a pittance of £80 a year.

The Gaja Rājā requested me to teach her how to make tea, she having been advised to drink it for her health; she retired, changed her dress, returned, took her tea, and complained of its bitter taste.

“I am told you dress a camel beautifully,” said the young Princess; “and I was anxious to see you this morning, to ask you to instruct my people how to attire a sawārī camel.” This was flattering me on a very weak point: there is but one thing in the world that I perfectly understand, and that is, how to dress a camel.

“I hope you do not eat him when you have dressed him!” said an English gentleman.

My relative had a fine young camel, and I was not happy until I had superintended the making the attire, in which he—the camel, not the gentleman—looked beautiful! The Nawāb Hakīm Menhdī, having seen the animal, called, to request he might have similar trappings for his own sawārī camel; and the fame thereof having reached the Mahratta camp, my talents were called into play. I promised to attend to the wishes of the Gaja Rājā; and, returning home, summoned twelve mochīs, the saddlers of India, natives of the Chamār caste, to perform the work. Whilst one of the men smokes the nārjīl (cocoa-nut pipe), the remainder will work; but it is absolutely necessary that each should have his turn every half-hour, no smoke,—no work.

Five hundred small brass bells of melodious sound; two hundred larger ditto, in harmony, like hounds well matched, each under each; and one large bell, to crown the whole; one hundred large beads of imitative turquoise; two snow-white tails of the cow of Thibet; some thousands of cowries, many yards of black and of crimson cloth, and a number of very long tassels of red and black worsted. The mochīs embroidered the attire for three days, and it was remarkably handsome. The camel’s clothing being ready, it was put into a box, and the Gaja Rājā having appointed an hour, I rode over, taking it with me, at 4 A.M.

In the court-yard of the zenāna, I found the Bā’ī, and all her ladies; she asked me to canter round the enclosure, the absurdity of sitting on one side a horse being still an amusing novelty.

The Bā’ī’s riding horses were brought out; she was a great equestrian in her youthful days, and, although she has now given up the exercise, delights in horses. The ladies relate, with great pride, that, in one battle, her Highness rode at the head of her troops, with a lance in her hand, and her infant in her arms!

A very vicious, but large and handsome camel was then brought in by the female attendants; he knelt down, and they began putting the gay trappings upon him; his nose was tied to his knee, to prevent his injuring the girls around him, whom he attempted to catch hold of, showing his great white teeth; if once the jaw of a camel closes upon you, he will not relinquish his hold. You would have supposed they were murdering, not dressing the animal; he groaned and shouted as if in great pain, it was piteous to hear the beast; and laughable, when you remembered it was the “dastūr;” they always groan and moan when any load is placed on their backs, however light. When the camel’s toilet was completed, a Mahratta girl jumped on his back, and made him go round the enclosure at a capital rate; the trappings were admired, and the bells pronounced very musical.

They were eager I should mount the camel; I thought of Theodore Hook. “The hostess said, ‘Mr. Hook, will you venture upon an orange?’ ‘No, thank you, Ma’am, I’m afraid I should tumble off.’” C’est beau çà, n’est pas? I declined the elevated position offered me, for the same reason.

The finest young sawārī camels, that have never been debased by carrying any burthen greater than two or three Persian cats, are brought down in droves by the Arabs from Cabul; one man has usually charge of three camels; they travel in single file, the nose of one being attached to the crupper of another by a string passed through the cartilage. They browse on leaves in preference to grazing. It was a picturesque scene, that toilet of the camel, performed by the Mahratta girls, and they enjoyed the tamāshā.

I mentioned my departure was near at hand; the Bā’ī spoke of her beloved Gwalior, and did me the honour to invite me to pay my respects there, should she ever be replaced on the gaddī. She desired I would pay a farewell visit to the camp three days afterwards. After the distribution, as usual, of betel leaves, spices, atr of roses, and the sprinkling with rose-water, I made my salām. Were I an Asiatic, I would be a Mahratta.

The Mahrattas never transact business on an unlucky day; Tuesday is an unfortunate day, and the Bā’ī, who was to have held a durbār, put it off in consequence. She sent for me, it being the day I was to take leave of her; I found her looking grave and thoughtful, and her sweet smile was very sad. She told me the Court of Directors had sent orders that she was to go and live at Benares, or in the Deccan; that she was to quit Fathīghar in one month’s time, and should she refuse to do so, the Governor-General’s agent was to take her to Benares by force, under escort of troops that had been sent to Fathīghar for that purpose. The Bā’ī was greatly distressed, but spoke on the subject with a command of temper, and a dignity that I greatly admired. “What must the Mahāraj do? Cannot this evil fate be averted? Must she go to Benares? Tell us, Mem sāhiba, what must we do?” said one of the ladies in attendance. Thus called upon, I was obliged to give my opinion; it was an awkward thing to tell an exiled Queen she must submit,—“The cudgel of the powerful must be obeyed[12].” I hesitated; the Bā’ī looked at me for an answer. Dropping the eyes of perplexity on the folded hands of despondency, I replied to the Brija, who had asked the question, “Jiska lāthī ooska bhains,”—i.e. “He who has the stick, his is the buffalo[13]!” The effect was electric. The Bāiza Bā’ī and the Gaja Rājā laughed, and I believe the odd and absurd application of the proverb half reconciled the Mahāraj to her fate.

I remained with her Highness some time, talking over the severity of the orders of Government, and took leave of her with great sorrow; the time I had before spent in the camp had been days of amusement and gaiety; the last day, the unlucky Tuesday, was indeed ill-starred, and full of misery to the unfortunate and amiable ex-Queen of Gwalior.