Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, No. CCCXXXVI. October, 1843. Vol. LIV.

Our author, like Bishop Heber,12 and other travellers on the same route, is struck by the contrast between the robust and well-fed peasantry of Hindustan Proper, and the puny rice-eaters of Bengal; "who eat fish, boiled rice, bitter oil; and an infinite variety of vegetables; but of wheaten or barley bread, and of pulse, they know not the taste, nor of mutton, fowl, or ghee, (clarified butter.) The author of the Riaz-es-Selatin, is indeed of opinion that such food does not suit their constitutions, and would make them ill if they were to eat it"—an invaluable doctrine to establish in dieting a pauper population! "As to their dress, they have barely enough to cover them—only a piece of cloth, called a dhoti, wrapped round their loins, while their head-dress consists of a dirty rag rolled two or three times round the temples, and leaving the crown bare. But the natives of Hindustan, and even their descendants to the second and third generation, always wear the jamah, or long muslin robe, out of doors, though in the house they adopt the Bengali custom. The author of the Kholasat-al Towārikh, (an historical work,) says that both men and women formerly went naked; and no doubt he is right, for they can hardly be said to do otherwise now." Such are the peasants of Bengal—a race differing from the natives of Hindustan in language, manners, food, dress, and personal appearance; but who, from their vicinity to the seat of the English Supreme Government, have served as models for the descriptions given by many superficial travellers, as applying to all the natives of British India, without distinction! The horrible Hindu custom of immersing the sick, when considered past recovery, in the Ganges, and holding their lower limbs under water till they expire,13 excites, as may be expected, the disgust of the khan; but the reason which he assigns for it, "the belief of these people, that if a man die in his own house, he would cause the death of every member of the family by assuming the form of a bhut or evil spirit," is new to us, and appears to be analogous to the superstitious dread entertained by the Greeks and Sclavonians, of a corpse reanimated into a Vroucolochas, or vampire. "But if a man escapes from their hands, and recovers after this treatment, he is shunned by every one; and there are many villages in Bengal, called villages of the dead, inhabited by men who have thus escaped death; they are considered dead to society, and no other persons will dwell in the same villages."

The stay of the khan in Calcutta was prolonged for more than a month, during which time he rented a house from a native proprietor in the quarter of Kolitolla. While removing his effects from his boat to this residence, he became involved in a dispute with the police, in consequence of the violation by his servants, through ignorance, of the regulation which forbids persons from the Upper Provinces to enter the city armed; but this unintentional infringement of orders was easily explained and arranged by the intervention of an European friend, and the arms, of which the police had taken possession, were restored. While engaged in preparing for his voyage, the khan made the best use of his time in visiting the public buildings, and other objects of interest, among which he particularly notices the minar or column erected in the maidan, (square,) near the viceregal palace of the Nawab Governor-General Bahadur, by a subscription among the officers of the army, native as well as English, to the memory of the late Sir David Ochterlony; but rates it, with truth, as greatly inferior, both in dimensions and beauty, to the famous pillar of the Kootb-Minar near Delhi. The colossal fortifications of Fort-William are also duly commemorated; "they resemble an embankment externally, but when viewed from within are exceedingly high—no foe could penetrate within them, much less reach the treasures and magazines in the interior." Our traveller also visited the English courts of justice, in the proceedings of which he seems to have taken great interest, and was apparently treated with much hospitality by many of the European functionaries and other residents, by whom he was furnished with numerous letters of introduction, as well as receiving much information respecting the manners and customs of Ingilistan, or England. The choice of a ship, and the selection of sea-stock, were of course matters of grave consideration, and the more so from the peculiar unfitness of the habits and religious scruples of an Indian Moslem for the privations unavoidable at sea; but a passage was at last taken for the khan and his two servants on board the Edinburgh of 1400 tons, and it being agreed that he should find his own provisions, to obviate all mistakes on the score of forbidden food, and the captain promising moreover that his comforts should be carefully attended to, this weighty negotiation was at length concluded. It is due to the khan to say, that whether from being better equipped, or from being endued with more philosophy and forbearance than his compatriot, Mirza Abu-Talib Khan, (to whom we have above referred,) he seems to have reconciled himself to the hardships of the kala-pani, or ocean, with an exceedingly good grace; and we find none of the complaints which fill the pages of the Mirza against the impurity of his food, the impossibility of performing his ablutions in appointed time and manner, and sundry other abominations by which he was so grievously afflicted, that at a time of danger to the vessel, "though many of the passengers were much alarmed, I, for my own part, was so weary of life that I was perfectly indifferent to my fate." Abu-Talib, however, sailed in an ill-regulated Danish ship; and in summing up the horrors of the sea, he strongly recommends his countrymen, if compelled to brave its miseries, to embark in none but an English vessel.

During the last days of the khan's sojourn in Calcutta, he witnessed the splendid celebration of the rites of the Mohurrum, when the slaughter of the brother Imams, Hassan and Hussein, the martyred grandsons of the Prophet, is lamented by all sects of the faithful, but more especially by the Rafedhis or Sheahs, the followers of Ali, "of whom there are many in Calcutta, though they are less numerous than the orthodox sect or Sunnis, from whom they are distinguished, at this season, by wearing black as mourning. At the Baitak-Khana (a quarter of Calcutta) we witnessed the splendid procession of the Tazîya,14 with the banners and flags flying, and the wailers beating their breasts."… "It is the custom here, at this season, for all the natch-girls (dancers) to sit in the streets of the Chandnibazar, under canopies decorated with wreaths and flowers in the most fantastic manner, and sell sweetmeats, cardamums, betelnuts, &c., upon stalls, displaying their charms to the passers-by. I took a turn here one evening with five others, and found crowds of people collected, both strangers and residents: nor do they ordinarily disperse till long after midnight." On the second day after his visit to this scene of gaiety, he received notice that the ship was ready for sea; and on the 8th of Mohurrum 1256, (March 13, 1840,) he accordingly embarked with his baggage and servants on board the Edinburgh, which was towed in seven days, by a steamer, down the river to Saugor; and the pilot quitting her the next day at the floating light. "I now found myself," (says the khan,) "for the first time in my life, in the great ocean, where nothing was to be seen around but sky and water."

The account of a voyage at sea, as given by an Oriental, is usually the most deplorable of narratives—filled with exaggerated fears, the horrors of sea-sickness, and endless lamentations of the evil fate of the writer, in being exposed to such a complication of miseries. Of the wailing of Mirza Abu-Talib we have already given a specimen: and the Persian princes, even in the luxurious comfort of an English Mediterranean steamer, seem to have fared but little better, in their own estimation at least, than the Mirza in his dirty and disorderly Danish merchantman. "Our bones cried, 'Alas! for this evil there is no remedy.' We were vomiting all the time, and thus afflicted with incurable evils, in the midst of a sea which appears without end, the state of my health bad, the sufferings of my brothers very great, and no hope of being saved, we became most miserable." Such is the naïve exposition of his woes, by H. R. H. Najaf Kooli Mirza; but Kerim Khan appears, both physically and morally, to have been made of different metal. Ere he had been two days on board we find him remarking—"I had by this time made some acquaintance among the passengers, and began to find my situation less irksome and lonely;" shortly afterwards adding—"The annoyances inseparable from this situation were relieved, in some measure, by the music and dancing going on every day except Sundays, owing to the numerous party of passengers, both gentlemen and ladies, whom we had on board—seeing which, a man forgets his griefs and troubles in the general mirth around him." So popular, indeed, does the khan appear already to have become, that the captain, finding that he had hitherto abstained from the use of his pipe, that great ingredient in Oriental comfort, from an idea that smoking was prohibited on board, "instantly sent for my hookah, had it properly prepared for me, and insisted on my not relinquishing this luxury, the privation of which he knew would occasion me considerable inconvenience." In other respects, also, he seems to have been not less happily constituted; for though he says that "the rolling and rocking of the ship, when it entered the dark waters or open sea, completely upset my two companions, who became extremely sick"—his remarks on the incidents of the voyage, and the novel phenomena which presented themselves to his view, are never interrupted by any of those pathetic lamentations on the instability of the human stomach, which form so important and doleful an episode in the relations of most landsmen, of whatever creed or nation.

The commencement of the voyage was prosperous; and the ship ran to the south before a fair wind, interrupted only by a few days of partial calm, till it reached the latitude of Ceylon, where the appearance of the flying fish excited the special wonder of the khan, who was by this time beginning, under the tuition of his fellow passengers, to make some progress in the English language, and had even attempted to fathom some of the mysteries of the science of navigation; "but though I took the sextant which the captain handed me, and held it precisely as he had done, I could make nothing of it." The regular performance of the Church service on Sundays, and the cessation on that day from the ordinary amusements, is specially noticed on several occasions, and probably made a deeper impression on the mind of our Moslem friend, from the popular belief current in India that the Feringhis are men of no caste, without religious faith or ceremonies—a belief which the conduct and demeanour of the Anglo-Indians in past times tended, in too many instances, to confirm. Off the southern extremity of Ceylon, the ship was again becalmed for several days; but the tedium of this interval was relieved, not only by the ordinary sea incidents of the capture of a shark and the appearance of a whale, (the zoological distinctions between which and the true fishes are stated by the khan with great correctness,) but by the occurrence of a mutiny on board an English vessel in company, which was fortunately quelled by the exertions of the captain of the Edinburgh.

"The spicy gales of Ceylon," blowing off the coast to the distance, as stated, of fifty miles, (an extremely moderate range when compared with the accounts of some other travellers,) at last brought on their wings the grateful announcement of the termination of the calm; but before quitting the vicinity of this famous island, (more celebrated in eastern story under the name of Serendib,) the khan gives some notices of the legends connected with its history, which show a more extended acquaintance with Hindu literature than the Moslems in India in general take the trouble of acquiring. Among the rest he alludes to the epic of the Ramayuna, and the bridge built by Rama (or as he calls him, Rajah Ram Chunder) for the passage of the monkey army and their redoubled general, Huniman, from the Indian continent into the island, in order to deliver from captivity Seeta, the wife of the hero. The wind still continuing favourable, the ship quickly passed the equator, and the pole-star was no longer visible—"a proof of the earth's sphericity which I was glad to have had an opportunity of seeing;" and they left, at a short distance to the right, the islands of Mauritius and Bourbon, "which are not far from the great island of Madagascar, where the faithful turn their faces to the north when they pray, as they turn them to the west in India," the kiblah, or point of direction, being in both cases the kaaba, or temple of Mekka. They were now approaching the latitude of the Cape; and our voyager was astonished by the countless multitudes of sea-birds which surrounded the ship, and particularly by the giant bulk of the albatrosses, "which I was told remained day and night on the ocean, repairing to the coast of Africa only at the period of incubation." The Cape of Storms, however, as it was originally named by Vasco de Gama, did not fail on this occasion to keep up its established character for bad weather. A severe gale set in from the east, which speedily increased to a storm. A sailor fell from "the third stage of the mainmast," (the main topgallant yard,) and was killed on the deck; and as the inhospitable shores of Africa were close under their lee, the ship appears for some time to have been in considerable danger. But in this (to him) novel scene of peril, the khan manifests a degree of self-possession, strongly contrasting with the timidity of the royal grandsons of Futteh Ali Shah, the expression of whose fears during a gale is absolutely ludicrous. "We were so miserable that we gave up all hope; we gave up our souls, and began to beseech God for forgiveness; while the wind continued increasing, and all the waves of the western sea rose up in mountains, with never-ceasing noise, till they reached the planets." Even after the violence of the hurricane had in some measure abated, the sea continued to run so high that the ports were kept closed for several days. "At last, however, they were opened for the purpose of ventilating the interior; and the band, which had been silent for some days, began to play again." The appearance of a water-spout on the same afternoon is thus described:—"An object became visible in the distance, in the form of a minaret, and every one on board crowded on deck to look at it. On asking what it was, I was told that what appeared to be a minaret was only water, which was drawn up towards the heavens by the force of the wind, and when this ceased would fall again into the sea, and was what we should call a whirlwind. This is sometimes extremely dangerous to vessels, since, if it reaches them, it is so powerful as to draw them out of the sea in the same manner as it draws up the water; in consequence of which many ships have been lost when they have been overtaken by this wonderful phenomenon."

The storm was succeeded by a calm, which detained the ship for two days within sight of the lofty mountains near the Cape. "It was bitterly cold, for the seasons are here reversed, and instead of summer, as we should have expected, it was now the depth of winter. At length, however, (on the 69th day after our leaving Calcutta,) a strong breeze sprung up, which enabled us to set all sail, and carried us away from this table-land." The run from the Cape to St Helena seems to have been barren of incident, except an accidental encounter with a vessel in distress, which proved to be a slaver which had been captured by an English cruiser, and had sustained serious damage in the late storm while proceeding to the Cape with a prize crew. On approaching St Helena, the captain "gave orders for the ship to be painted, both inside and out, that the people of the island might not say we came in a dirty ship; and as we neared the land, a white flag was hoisted to apprise those on shore that there was no one ill on board. In cases of sickness a yellow flag is displayed, and then no one is permitted to land from the ship for fear of contagion. The island is about twenty-six miles in circuit, and is constantly enveloped in fog and mist. It is said to have been formerly a volcano, but has now ceased to smoke. The vegetation is luxuriant, but few of the flowers are fragrant. I recognised some, however, both flowers and fruits, which seemed similar to those of India. I took the opportunity of landing with the captain to see the town, which is small, but extremely well fortified, the cannon being so numerous that one might suppose the whole island one immense iron-foundery. It is populous, the inhabitants being chiefly Jews and English; but as it was Sunday, and all the shops were shut, it had a dull appearance. After surveying the town, I ascended a hill in the country, leading to the tomb of Napoleon Bonaparte, which is on an elevated spot, four miles from the town.

"This celebrated personage was a native of Corsica; and enjoying a fortunate horoscope, he entered the French army, and speedily rose to the rank of general; and afterwards, with the consent of the people and the soldiery, made himself emperor. After this he conquered several kingdoms, and the fame of his prowess and his victories filled all the European world. When he invaded Russia, he defeated the Muscovites in several great battles, and took their capital; but, in consequence of the intensity of the cold, several thousands of his army both men and horses, perished miserably. This catastrophe obliged him to return to France, where he undertook the conquest of another country. At this time George III. reigned in England; and having collected all the disposable forces of his kingdom, appointed Lord Wellington (the same general who was employed in the war against Tippoo Sultan in Mysore) to command them, and sent him to combat the French Emperor. He entered Spain, and forced the Emperor's brother, Yusuf, (Joseph,) who was king of that country, to fly—till after a variety of battles and incidents, too numerous to particularize, the two hostile armies met at a place called by the English Waterloo, where a bloody battle was fought, as famous as that of Pāshān, between Sohrab and the hero Rustan: and Napoleon was overthrown and made prisoner. He was then sent, though in a manner suitable to his rank, to this island of St Helena, where, after a few years, he finished his earthly career. His tomb is much visited by all who touch at the island, and has become a durgah (shrine) for innumerable visitors from Europe. There are persons appointed to take care of it, who give to strangers, in consideration of a small present, the leaves and flowers of the trees which grow round the tomb. No other Emperor of the Europeans was ever so honoured as to have had his tomb made a shrine and place of pilgrimage: nor was ever one so great a conqueror, or so renowned for his valour and victories."

The remainder of the voyage from St Helena to England was apparently marked by no incident worthy of mention, as the khan notices only the reappearance of the pole-star on their crossing the line, and re-entering the northern hemisphere, and their reaching once more the latitude of Delhi, "which we now passed many thousand miles to our right; after which nothing of importance occurred till we reached the British Channel, when we saw the Scilly Isles in the distance, and about noon caught a glimpse of the Lizard Point, and the south coast of England, together with the lighthouse: the country of the French lay on our right at the distance of about eighty miles. I was given to understand that the whole distance from St Helena to London, by the ship's reckoning, was 6328 miles, and 16,528 from Calcutta." In the Downs the pilot came on board, from whom they received the news of the attempt recently made by Oxford on the life of the Queen; and here the captain, anxious to lose no time in reaching London, quitted the vessel as it entered the Thames, "the sources of which famous river, I was informed, were near a place called Cirencester, eighty-eight miles from London, in the zillah (county) of Gloucester." The ship was now taken in tow by a couple of steam-tugs, and passing Woolwich, "where are the war-ships and top-khana (arsenal) of the English Padishah, at length reached Blackwall, where we anchored."

"I now (continues the khan) returned thanks to God for having brought me safe through the wide ocean to this extraordinary country—bethinking myself of the answer once made by a man who had undertaken a voyage, on being asked by his friends what he had seen most wonderful—'The greatest wonder I have seen is seeing myself alive on land!'" The troubles of the khan, however, were far from being ended by his arrival on terra firma: for apparently from some mistake or inadvertence, (the cause of which does not very clearly appear,) on the part of the friends whom he had expected to meet him, he found himself, on landing at Blackwall and proceeding by the railway to London, left alone by the person who had thus far been his guide, in apartments near Cornhill, almost wholly unacquainted with the English language, separated from his baggage and servants, who were still on board the Edinburgh, and with no one in his company but another Hindustani, as little versed as himself in the ways and speech of Franguestan. In this "considerable unhandsome fix," as it would be called on the other side of the Atlantic, the perplexities of the khan are related with such inimitable naïveté and good-humour, that we cannot do better than give the account of them in his own words. "As I could neither ask for any thing, nor answer any question put to me, I passed the whole night without a morsel of food or a drop of water: till in the morning, feeling hungry, I requested my companion to go to some bazar and buy some fruit. He replied that it would be impossible for him either to find his way to a bazar through the crowds of people, or to find his way back again—as all the houses were so much alike. I then told him to go straight on in the street we were in, turning neither to the right nor the left till he met with some shop where we might get what we wanted: and, in order to direct him to the place on his return, I agreed to lean half out of the window, so that he could not fail to see me. No sooner, however, did he sally forth, than the people, men, women, and children, began to stare at him on all sides, as if he had dropped from the moon; some stopped and gazed, and numbers followed him as if he had been a criminal about being led to execution. Nor was I in a more enviable position: the people soon caught sight of me with my head and shoulders out of the window; and in a few minutes a mob had collected opposite the door. What was I to do? If I withdrew myself, my friend on returning would have no mark to find the house, while, if I remained where I was, the curiosity of the crowd would certainly increase. I kept my post, however, while every one that passed stopped and gazed like the rest, till there was actually no room for vehicles to pass; and in this unpleasant situation I remained fully an hour, when seeing my friend returning, I went down and opened the door for him. He told me he had gone straight on, till he came to a fruit-shop, at the corner of another street, when he went in, and laying two shillings on the counter, said in Oordu, (the polished dialect of Hindustani,) 'Give me some fruit.' The shopman, not understanding him, spoke to him in English; to which he replied again in Oordu, 'I want some fruit!' pointing at the same time to the money, to signify that he wanted two shillings' worth of fruit. The man, however, continued confounded; and my friend at last, not knowing of what sort the fruits were, whether sour or sweet, bitter or otherwise, ventured, after much hesitation and fruitless attempts to communicate with the shopman by signs and gestures, to take up four apples, and then made his retreat in the best manner he could, followed, as here, by the rabble. I at last caught a glimpse of him, as I have mentioned, and let him in; and we sat down together, and breakfasted on these four apples, my friend taking two of them, and I the others."