A Popular Account of the Manners and Customs of India. Acland Charles
place in which we live – that is, our hotel – is a large house, three stories high, surrounding a square, and on each side are forty-two windows in a row.
Immediately after landing I went to pay my respects to the archdeacon, and to inform him of my arrival. Not finding him at home, I proceeded to the bishop, who treated me very hospitably, and invited us to his house.
On returning home I found that during my absence the archdeacon's wife and daughter had been calling on my wife, for the purpose of inviting us to their house; but having already accepted the offer of the bishop, we, of course, were compelled to decline this. In the bishop's palace we have two very large apartments assigned to us, besides a bath-room, and a verandah, about three hundred yards long, to walk in. I was scarcely located here, however, before I received an order to proceed to Gowhattie, in Assam, and to assume the clerical superintendence of the whole province. At Gowhattie there is one European lady, and there are five European gentlemen, who are the only ones within two hundred and seventy miles. My parish, if such it can be called, is about twice the size of England, and I shall be continually travelling about.
But I must now tell you something about this place. The principal animals here are buffaloes, elephants, and tigers, of whose numbers you may form an idea by the fact of the Government having offered a reward for every tiger's head. Last year, in the province of Assam, the number of heads brought in was two thousand six hundred, and yet these animals seem to be as numerous as ever.
We shall have to travel in a little boat, called a budjeon, with two cabins, up to Gowhattie. The boatmen are black, and we shall be the only passengers on board. We must be provided besides with two other boats, the one with the fowls and goats in it for cooking, and the other with the luggage. We shall be rather more than two months on the voyage, and must take with us enough provisions for a year. When we reach Gowhattie the boat must serve us for a home until we have built one with mats and reeds.
There are some large birds here called adjutants, about five feet high, with long white legs, black bodies, bare necks, and a beak like pelicans. They are generally seen perched on the tops of houses. The fire-flies are very pretty: on a fine night a number of them are seen flitting about the lanes and gardens glittering like stars.
The bull-frogs make a noise at night almost as loud as the bark of a dog. A pretty brown and white bird is to be found here, singing much like a blackbird; it is called a miner.
Calcutta is well termed the city of palaces, since every house is a noble mansion. Most of the rooms are at least fifteen feet high and twenty-six feet square, and along every story there is a verandah, supported by stone columns. The language of the people here seems to have retained many traces of the Portuguese, who were here before the English. For instance, the bishop is called de Lord Padre, and I go by the name of Padre Sahib.
We have no bells by which to summon the servants, who lie on the mat outside the room door; when we require them we call out, without rising from the sofa, "Qui hi?" (who is there?) then the sirdar, or valet, runs in. We give him our orders, which he reports to the others. Although I am staying at the bishop's, and dine at his table, and use his carriage, I am obliged to have five servants. I have one kitmajar, or waiter, who does nothing but attend at table. The bishop's kitmajars will wait only upon their own master. Then I have one ayah, or lady's-maid, for my wife; a sirdar, or bearer; and a matee-sirdar, or assistant-bearer. These men make the beds and assist me to dress. I have also a punkah-bearer – that is, a man who sits outside the room, and is constantly employed in pulling a string fastened to a punkah, or enormous fan, without which no Englishman could live in India. Besides these I pay a pooney-bearer, or water-carrier, and a matranes. When I go up the country I shall be obliged to have a consummar, or head servant; a dobee, or washerwoman; a dugay, or tailor; a syce, or grass-cutter; and one or two others. We cannot do with less, because, if I were to ask the kitmajar to fetch my coat, he would twist his mustachios, and say, "Me no sirdar;" or if I were to ask my sirdar to wait at table, he would say, "Kitmajar no do dat."
August 6, 1842
The bishop has changed my appointment from Assam to Cuttack. The different towns I shall have under my jurisdiction are Midnapore, Balasore, and Poonee. Midnapore is situated eighty miles south of Calcutta, and Cuttack two hundred and forty. Poonee stands on the coast a little to the south of the great plain of Juggernat'h, which forms a part of my district.
We expect to leave Calcutta next week, and shall go down the river as far as Ooloberriab. Here we shall quit the boat for palanquins, and shall travel by night, it being too sultry to proceed by day. At Midnapore we shall stay for a few days at the judge's house, whilst I look about for one. Here we shall probably remain about three months, and shall then proceed to Poonee. Whichever of the two towns I discover to be the pleasantest and most agreeable I shall make my permanent abiding-place, only travelling occasionally to each of the others. Every one tells me my station is one of the healthiest in Bengal. Midnapore, standing on a high hill, will be best for the wet weather; Poonee, on the sea, for the hot months; and Cuttack, with a nice sea-breeze, for the winter.
The principal dangers we have to apprehend on our journey to Midnapore are the dacoits, or mountain robbers, the tigers, and the sudden swelling of the rivers from the rains.
Now, I must tell you a little of our mode of life here. At half-past five in the morning we have a cup of coffee, and then go out for a ramble. It is the only hour in the day in which it is possible to walk. If we were to go out for half an hour in the middle of the day it would most likely cause our death. At seven we take a cold bath, and pour great jars of water over our heads. I used to enjoy bathing in England, but here it becomes the greatest possible luxury. After this is over we read or write until nine, and then breakfast. At two we have tiffin, which is lunch, with plenty of meat. At five in the afternoon we have an hour's drive, at half-past seven we dine, at nine tea, and to bed at ten. These are the regular Indian hours, but as soon as I have a house of my own I mean to dine at three.
When on any occasion I ask for a glass of cold water it is brought to me with a lump of ice in it. This is excessively refreshing in a country like this, where the thermometer is at 90°. It is brought in shiploads from America. At new and full moon there is what is called a "bore" in the river Hoogly, that is, the tide, instead of coming up gradually, swells up in one large wave. When I saw it the other day it rose thirty feet in height.
Midnapore, September 12, 1842
On the 14th of August I sent two boats full of furniture to Midnapore, and on the 16th we started ourselves in a boat with two large cabins and one small. I had nine Indians to manage it. Another smaller boat contained our palanquins, two servants, and a little sort of kitchen.
In going down the Hoogly river we met with an accident, and were nearly overturned; the wind drove us with great force against a large ship in a severe squall. We however reached Ooloberriab, a native village on Hoogly, in safety. Here we turned into a canal, up which we journeyed for some miles, and then anchored for the night. The next morning, having slept on board, we proceeded on our course, and reached the Khatah Ghat, or landing-place (pronounced gaut), at about twelve o'clock. Here we remained until four in the afternoon, entered our palanquins, a kind of square boxes, which are carried on men's shoulders, handsomely painted outside, with soft cushions inside, and lamps like a carriage. In this sort of thing we move about everywhere, and in crossing a river do not wet our feet. To each palanquin there are eight bearers, four of whom are employed at a time; one mussuaulchee, or torch-bearer, runs by the side, along with one baugh-whaller, to carry boxes made of tin, and called patarahs. Each man carries two slung to a stick over his shoulder.
My wife travels in one palanquin, and I in another. We had taken care to write beforehand that a dâk, or men, might be in readiness to carry us on at each stage; and we therefore proceeded rapidly through the whole night.
Soon after leaving Khatah Ghat we found the road for two miles under water, which reached far above the men's knees; and at one time, indeed, I was afraid it would have entered the palanquin; but the only accident that actually happened was the breaking of one of the baughley-whaller's sticks, and the tin patarah, containing clothes, floated