Begums, Thugs and White Mughals Read online

  As Colin Thubron has pointed out, ‘To define the genre [of travel writing] as an act of domination – rather than of understanding, respect or even catharsis – is simplistic. If even the attempt to understand is seen as aggression or appropriation, then all human contact declines into paranoia.’ The point is well made, and the attacks made on Fanny highlight the problem with so much that has been written about eighteenth- and early nineteenth-century India: the temptation felt by so many critics to project back onto it the stereotypes of Victorian and Edwardian behaviour and attitudes with which we are so familiar.

  Yet these attitudes were clearly at odds with the actual fears and hopes, anxieties and aspirations of many of the eighteenth- and early nineteenth-century Company officials and their Indian wives. Their writings can be read with the greatest of ease in books such as Fanny Parkes’, and in the fifty miles of East India Company documents and letters stored in the India Office Library in London. It is as if Victorians succeeded in colonising not just India but also, more permanently, our imaginations, to the exclusion of all other images of the Indo-British encounter.

  The travel book, by its very nature, records the transitory moment: as Thubron puts it, a good travel book ‘catches the moment on the wing, and stops it in Time’. Fanny Parkes’ wonderful book is an important historical text for its record of the last moments of this very attractive (and largely forgotten) moment of cultural and sexual interaction, of crossover ‘chutnification’. The world described by Fanny – especially the syncretic culture of Lucknow and Delhi, and its satellite at Khāsganj – was far more hybrid, and had far less clearly defined ethnic, national and religious borders, than we have been conditioned to expect, either by the conventional Imperial history books written in Britain before 1947, or by the nationalist historiography of post-Independence India. It was a world where British mercenaries married Mughal princesses and where Anglo-Indian women entered the harems of Nawabi Avadh, where Muslims attended Hindu ceremonies and vice versa.

  This edition of Fanny Parkes’ writing represents my own personal selection of her work, but I hope it conveys the flavour of her writing and the largely forgotten world she so loved and enjoyed.

  WILLIAM DALRYMPLE

  Pages Yard, 17th September 2002

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE

  To make the book more manageable, we have made a number of changes to the text. The original edition, published in 1850 as Wanderings of a Pilgrim in Search of the Picturesque, ran to over eight hundred pages. Several passages have been omitted, and are marked by ellipses within square brackets – [ … ] The original edition was also riddled with inconsistent spellings, both of place names and Indian words. These have been standardized so that they correspond with the newly-created glossary and map.

  To give meaning to the prices mentioned, 1 rupee in Fanny’s day would have been worth roughly £6 today.

  CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Introduction

  Illustrations

  Glossary

  Map

  Dedication

  Invocation

  I Departure from England

  II Carnicobar

  III Life in India

  IV Residence in Calcutta

  V Residence in Calcutta

  VI Residence in Calcutta

  VII Departure from the Presidency

  VIII Life in the Mofussil

  IX Residence at Allahabad

  X Life in the Zenāna

  XI Residence at Prāg

  XII Sketches of Allahabad

  XIII Removal to Cawnpore – Confessions of a Thug

  XIV Residence at Cawnpore

  XV The Thug’s Dice – Execution of Eleven Thugs

  XVI Residence at Cawnpore – The Dewali

  XVII Scenes in Oude

  XVIII Revelations of Life in the Zenāna

  XIX The Return to Allahabad – Execution of twenty-five Thugs

  XX Scenes at Allahabad

  XXI Life in the Zenāna

  XXII Adventures in the East

  XXIII The Great Fair at Allahabad

  XXIV The Nut Log

  XXV The Cholera

  XXVI The Muharram

  XXVII White Ants and Cold Mornings for Hunting

  XXVIII Pilgrimage to the Tāj

  XXIX Pilgrimage to the Tāj

  XXX The Tāj Mahal

  XXXI Pleasant Days at Agra

  XXXII Revelations of Life in the Zenāna

  XXXIII Life in the Zenāna and Chīta Hunting

  XXXIV Fatehpur Sikri and Colonel Gardner

  XXXV The Marriage

  XXXVI The Barāt

  XXXVII The Chāotree

  XXXVIII The Mahratta Camp and Zenāna

  XXXIX The Nawāb Hakīm Mehndi and the City of Kannauj

  XL The Mahratta Camp and Scenes in the Zenāna

  XLI The Mahrattas at Allahabad

  XLII Tufāns in the East

  XLIII From Ghazipur to Ballia

  XLIV Sketches in Bengal – The Sunderbands

  XLV The Famine at Kannauj

  XLVI Pleasant Days in Camp

  XLVII Ruins of Delhi

  XLVIII Ancient Delhi – The Zenāna Ghar

  XLIX Departure for the Hills – Landowr

  L Picturesque Scenes in the Hills

  LI Life in the Hills

  LII Departure from the Hills

  LIII Departure from Allahabad

  LIV Arrival in Calcutta – the Madagascar

  LV Departure from St Helena

  The Farewell

  Copyright

  ILLUSTRATIONS

  The Sircār

  The Chūrūk Poojaī

  The Bengali Woman

  The Ice Pits

  The Barkandāz

  The Darwān

  The Gram Grinder

  Pedigrees of Colonel William Linnaeus Gardner

  GLOSSARY

  ābdār water-cooler

  amarī seat with canopy for riding on elephant

  ānā copper coin

  angiya native bodice

  angriah pirates, robbers

  arak alcoholic drink

  atr perfume

  ayah lady’s maid

  baboo Hindu gentleman, Calcutta merchant

  bahangī a stick with ropes, carried on the shoulder, used for carrying baggage

  banglā a thatched house

  baniyā a shop-keeper

  barkandāz a policeman

  batta extra pay

  bibi a European woman, or the Indian wife of a European man

  begum a lady

  bihishtī a water-carrier

  brahman a member of the priestly caste

  burj tower

  chaprāsī messenger

  chārpāī four-legged bed

  chaunrī fly-whisk

  chītā hunting cheetah

  churī bracelet

  dāk mail coach, post service and bungalow

  dāndī a boatman

  darbār audience hall

  darwān porter

  darzee a tailor

  dastūri payment over and above wages

  dhobee a washerman

  fakīr a religious beggar

  gūnth Himalayan pony

  hackery a bullock cart

  hakīm a learned man, physician

  harkāra running footman

  hinnā henna, a dye

  huqqa hookah, a water-pipe

  howdah a seat on an elephant with no canopy

  hākāk stone-cutter

  hammām Turkish bath

  jagir hereditary income from land

  jamadār native officer, head of the running footmen

  khānsāmān head table-servant

  khas-khas root of a grass

  khidmatgār table-servant

  khraunchī a native carriage

  kimkhwab silk brocade worked in gold and silver

  lota a drinking vessel

  lugoe to moor, attach

  mahout elephant keeper, d
river

  Mahratta a famous Hindu warrior race

  maidān a plain or square

  mānjhī master of a boat

  mashāl a torch

  mashālchi a torch-bearer

  mashk a water bag

  masjid a mosque

  masnad a throne, large cushion

  mate assistant servant

  mofussil countryside

  mohur a gold coin

  moonshee an educated Indian

  mug people from Chittagong renowned for their cooking skills

  mushāira evening of poetry and music

  musulmān a Muslim

  nāch a traditional Indian dance

  nālā a small river, watercourse

  nawāb a Nabob, a Muslim title of rank

  nilgāi an antelope

  omrāh grandees of a Muslim court

  pālkee a palanquin

  pān leaves of the betel pepper

  pankhā a fan

  pattū a kind of woollen cloth

  pindāri a member of a band of plunderers

  pitārā a basket

  pukka substantial, permanent

  pashmina fine wool shawl

  pūtlī a small puppet

  roomal a handkerchief

  sā’is a groom

  sāleb misree a medicine made from orchid root

  sarāy a native inn

  sawārī retinue of horsemen

  shastra Hindu scripture

  sholā a plant – aeschynomene paludosa

  sipahī an Indian soldier

  sircār a superintendent

  surma eye make-up, kohl

  sati a woman who burns herself on her husband’s funeral, or the act thereof

  tamāshā fun, sport, spectacle

  tanjan a chair carried by natives

  tatti a screen or shutter

  tattoo pony

  tufān a hurricane

  zenāna female apartments

  Map of central India showing the region covered by Fanny Parkes’ travels

  To the Memory of

  MY BELOVED MOTHER

  AT WHOSE REQUEST IT WAS WRITTEN,

  THIS NARRATIVE IS DEDICATED:

  AND IF ANY OF THE FRIENDS,

  WHOSE KIND PARTIALITY HAS INDUCED THEM TO

  URGE ITS PUBLICATION, SHOULD THINK I HAVE

  DWELT TOO MUCH ON MYSELF, ON MY OWN

  THOUGHTS, FEELINGS AND ADVENTURES,

  LET THEM REMEMBER THAT THIS JOURNAL

  WAS WRITTEN FOR THE AFFECTIONATE EYE

  of her

  TO WHOM NOTHING COULD BE SO GRATIFYING

  AS THE SLIGHTEST INCIDENT CONNECTED

  WITH HER BELOVED AND ABSENT CHILD,

  [FANNY PARKES]

  INVOCATION

  Work-perfecting Ganésha! Salāmat.

  Ganésh! – Ganésh!

  Two-mothered! One-toothed!

  Portly-paunched! Elephant-faced Ganésha!

  Salām! !

  Moon-crowned! Triple-eyed !

  Thou who in all affairs claimest precedence in adoration!

  Calamity averting Ganésh

  Salām! !

  Thou who art invoked on the commencement of a journey,

  the writing of a book,

  Salām! !

  Oh ! Ganésh, ‘put not thine ears to sleep!

  Encourage me, and then behold my bravery;

  Call me your own fox, then will you see me perform

  the exploits of a lion!’

  ‘What fear need he have of the waves of the sea,

  who has Noah for a pilot?’

  First born of Mahādēo and Parvatī!

  God of Prudence and Policy!

  Patron of Literature!

  Salām! !

  May it be said,

  ‘Ah ! she writes like Ganésh!’

  CHAPTER I

  DEPARTURE FROM ENGLAND

  IN APRIL, 1822, Monsieur mon mari took me to Switzerland. For the first time, I quitted England. How beautiful was the Valley of Chamonix! How delightful our expedition on the La Flegère! The guides pronounced it too early in the year to attempt the ascent of Mont Blanc. We quitted the valley with regret, and returned to Geneva: but our plans were frustrated, and our hopes disappointed; for, on reaching the hotel, we found a letter requiring our instant return to England. The Marchioness of Ely, in which we had taken our passage to Bengal, was reported to be ready to sail in a few days: no time was to be lost; we started immediately, travelled night and day incessantly, and arrived, greatly harassed, in town. The illness brought on by the over-fatigue of that journey never quitted me for years. The vessel, however, was merely preparing for her departure, and did not sail until long after.

  Happily the pain of separation from the beloved home of my childhood was broken by the necessity of exertion in preparation for the voyage.

  June 13th – We went to Gravesend, to see the ship: it was scarcely possible to enter our destined abode, the port stern cabin; so full was it to overflowing – boxes of clothes, hampers of soda water, crates of china and glass – a marvellous confusion! After a time the hampers and boxes were carried below, the furniture cleated and lashed, and some sort of order was established.

  We had carefully selected a ship that was not to carry troops: we now found the Ely had been taken up to convey four troops of H. M. 16th Lancers; the remainder of the regiment was to sail in the General Hewitt. Some of our fellow-passengers were on board on the same errand as ourselves.

  June 18th – We had lingered with our friends, and had deferred the sad farewell until the last moment: half uncertain if we should be in time to catch the ship in the Downs, we posted to Deal, took refuge at the Three Kings, and had the satisfaction of watching the Marchioness of Ely, and the Winchelsea her companion, as they bore down. At eleven o’clock we went on board, and sailed the next day. There was such a glorious confusion on deck, that those who were novices in military and naval affairs might deem, as they gazed around, it could never subside into anything approaching order. Everyone, however, was saying it would be very different when the ship was at sea; of which, indeed, there was little doubt, for to go on as we were would have been impossible. Off the Isle of Wight the pilot left us to our captain’s guidance; the breeze was favourable; we were sailing so smoothly, there was scarcely any motion. The last farewell tears dropped as I passed the Needles and the coast of Hampshire, whilst memory recalled the happy days I had spent there, and in the Forest, the beautiful Forest!

  Such thoughts and feelings it was necessary to throw aside. I joined the party in the cuddy, scrutinised the strange faces, and retired to my cabin, with as solitary a feeling as if my husband and I had been exiles for ever.

  The voyage began prosperously; I was satisfied with the captain, with my cabin, with my servant, and happy with my lord and master.

  We regretted we had taken our passage in a ship full of troops, and anticipated we should be debarred taking exercise on the quarterdeck, and enjoying ourselves with walk and talk during the fine moonlight nights. In the Ely it appeared as if it would be impossible; were you to attempt it, you would be sure to blunder over some sleeping Lancer. However, the band was on board – some small consolation; and as the society was large, there was more chance of entertainment.

  July 1st – Porto Santo looked beautiful, its head enveloped in clouds. The rocky island rises boldly out of the sea; its mountains are very picturesque. The sight of land and white châteaux was quite charming.

  I now began to recover from the maladie de mer, and to regain my usual good spirits. Creatures of habit, we soon grew accustomed to the small space. The stern cabin, twelve feet by ten, at first sight appeared most extremely inconvenient; but now it seemed to have enlarged itself, and we were more comfortable. Still sleep would scarcely visit me, until a swinging cot was procured. From that time I slept calmly and quietly, whatever pranks the old Ely might choose to play.

  The comfort or discomfort of a voyage greatly depends upon your fellow-pass
engers. In this respect we were most fortunate; one-half the officers of the 16th Lancers were in the Ely. The old 16th to me were friends; my father, who had been many years in the regiment, was forced to quit it, in consequence of a severe wound he received in action in the Pays Bas, under the command of the Duke of York. My uncle had commanded the gallant regiment in Spain, and other relatives had also been many years with the regiment. Chance had thrown us amongst friends.

  Perhaps no friendships are stronger than those formed on board ship, where the tempers and dispositions are so much set forth in their true colours.

  [ … ]

  July 22nd – What a strange, bustling life! This is baggage day; all the trunks are on deck – such a confusion! I am suffering from maladie de mer; the wind is contrary; we tack and veer most tiresomely; the ship pitches; we cling about like cats, and are at our wits’ end, striving to endure our miseries with patience

  The Bristol water is invaluable, the ship water very black, and it smells vilely. I knew not before the value of good water; and, were it not for the shower bath, should be apt to wish myself where Truth is – at the bottom of a well.

  Yesterday such a noise arose on deck, it brought me to the scene of action in a minute: ‘Come here! Come here! Look! Look! There they go, like a pack of hounds in full cry!’ I did come, and I did look; and there were some hundred of skipjacks leaping out of the water, and following each other with great rapidity across the head of the ship. When many fish leaped up together, there was such laughing, shouting, pointing, and gazing, from four hundred full-grown people, it was absurd to see how much amusement the poor fish occasioned. I looked alternately at the fish and the people, and laughed at both.

  A kind of rash teases me; in these latitudes they call it prickly heat, vow you cannot be healthy without it, and affirm that everyone ought to be glad to have it. So am not I.

  Having beaten about the line for a fortnight, with a contrary wind, at length we entertained hopes of crossing it, and letters were received on board from Neptune and Amphitrite, requesting to be supplied with clothes, having lost their own in a gale of wind.

  July 30th – Neptune and his lady came on board to acquaint the captain they would visit him in form the next day. The captain wished the god good-night, when instantly the deck was deluged with showers of water from the main-top, while a flaming tar-barrel was thrown overboard, in which Neptune was supposed to have vanished in flame and water.