Recross the Goomtee river–Sultanpoor Cantonments–Number of persons begging redress of wrongs, and difficulty of obtaining it in Oude– Apathy of the Sovereign–Incompetence and unfitness of his Officers– Sultanpoor, healthy and well suited for Troops–Chandour, twelve miles distant, no less so–lands of their weaker neighbours absorbed by the family of Rajah Dursun Sing, by fraud, violence, and collusion; but greatly improved–Difficulty attending attempt to restore old Proprietors–Same absorptions have been going on in all parts of Oude–and the same difficulty to be everywhere encountered– Soils in the district, mutteear, doomutteea, bhoor, _oosur– Risk at which lands are tilled under Landlords opposed to their Government–Climate of Oude more invigorating than that of Malwa– Captain Magness’s Regiment–Repair of artillery guns–Supply of grain to its bullocks–Civil establishment of the Nazim–Wolves–Dread of killing them among Hindoos–Children preserved by them in their dens, and nurtured.
December 22, 1849.–Sultanpoor, eight miles. Recrossed the Goomtee river, close under the Cantonments, over a bridge of boats prepared for the purpose, and encamped on the parade-ground. The country over which we came was fertile and well cultivated. For some days we have seen and heard a good many religions mendicants, both Mahommedans and Hindoos, but still very few lame, blind, and otherwise helpless persons, asking charity. The most numerous and distressing class of beggars that importune me, are those who beg redress for their wrongs, and a remedy for their grievances,–“their name, indeed, is Legion,” and their wrongs and grievances are altogether without remedy, under the present government and inveterately vicious system of administration. It is painful to listen to all these complaints, and to have to refer the sufferers for redress to authorities who want both the power and the will to afford it; especially when one knows that a remedy for almost every evil is hoped for from a visit such as the poor people are now receiving from the Resident. He is expected “to wipe the tears from off all faces;” and feels that he can wipe them from hardly any. The reckless disregard shown by the depredators of all classes and degrees to the sufferings of their victims, whatever be the cause of discontent or object of pursuit, is lamentable. I have every day scores of petitions delivered to me “with quivering lip and tearful eye,” by persons who have been plundered of all they possessed, had their dearest relatives murdered or tortured to death, and their habitations burnt to the ground, by gangs of ruffians, under landlords of high birth and pretensions, whom they had never wronged or offended; some, merely because they happened to have property, which the ruffians wished to take–others, because they presumed to live and labour upon lands which they coveted, or deserted, and wished to have left waste. In these attacks, neither age, nor sex, nor condition are spared. The greater part of the leaders of these gangs of ruffians are Rajpoot landholders, boasting descent from the sun and moon, or from the demigods, who figure in the Hindoo religious fictions of the Poorans. There are, however, a great many Mahommedans at the head of similar gangs. A landholder of whatever degree, who is opposed to his government from whatever cause, considers himself in a state of war’, and he considers a state of war to authorize his doing all those things which he is forbidden to do in a state of peace.
Unless the sufferer happens to be a native officer or sipahee of our army, who enjoys the privilege of urging his claims through the Resident, it is a cruel mockery to refer him for redress to any existing local authority. One not only feels that it is so, but sees, that the sufferer thinks that he must know it to be so. No such authority considers it to be any part of his duty to arrest evil- doers, and inquire into and redress wrongs suffered by individuals, or families, or village communities. Should he arrest such people, he would have to subsist and accommodate them at his own cost, or to send them to Lucknow, with the assurance that they would in a few days or a few weeks purchase their way out again, in spite of the clearest proofs of the murders, robberies, torturings, dishonourings, house-burning, &c., which they have committed. No sentence, which any one local authority could pass on such offenders, would be recognised by any other authority in the State, as valid or sufficient to justify him in receiving and holding them in confinement for a single day. The local authorities, therefore, either leave the wrong-doers unmolested, with the understanding that they are to abstain from doing any such wrong within their jurisdictions as may endanger or impede the collection of revenues during their period of office, or release them with that understanding after they have squeezed all they can out of them. The wrong-doers can so abstain, and still be able to murder, rob, torture, dishonour, and burn, upon a pretty large scale; and where they are so numerous, and so ready to unite for purposes “offensive and defensive,” and the local authorities so generally connive at or quietly acquiesce all their misdeeds, any attempt on the part of an honest or overzealous individual to put them down would be sure to result in his speedy and utter ruin!
To refer such sufferers to the authorities at Lucknow would be a still more cruel mockery. The present sovereign never hears a complaint or reads a petition or report of any kind. He is entirely taken up in the pursuit of his personal gratifications. He has no desire to be thought to take any interest whatever in public affairs; and is altogether regardless of the duties and responsibilities of his high office. He lives, exclusively, in the society of fiddlers, eunuchs, and women: he has done so since his childhood, and is likely to do so to the last. His disrelish for any other society has become inveterate: he cannot keep awake in any other. In spite of average natural capacity, and more than average facility in the cultivation of light literature, or at least “de faire des petits vers de sa focon,” his understanding has become so emasculated, that he is altogether unfit for the conduct of his domestic, much less his public, affairs. He sees occasionally his prime minister, who takes care to persuade him that he does all that a King ought to do; and nothing whatever of any other minister. He holds no communication whatever with brothers, uncles, cousins, or any of the native gentlemen at Lucknow, or the landed or official aristocracy of the country. He sometimes admits a few poets or poetasters to hear and praise his verses, and commands the unwilling attendance of some of his relations, to witness and applaud the acting of some of his own silly comedies, on the penalty of forfeiting their stipends; but any one who presumes to approach him, even in his rides or drives, with a petition for justice, is instantly clapped into prison, or otherwise severely punished.
His father and grandfather, while on the throne, used to see the members of the royal family and aristocracy of the city in Durbar once a-day, or three or four times a-week, and have all petitions and reports read over in their own presence. They dictated the orders, and their seal was affixed to them in their own presence, bearing the inscription molahiza shud, “it has been seen.” The seal was then replaced in the casket, which was kept by one confidential servant, Muzd-od Dowlah, while the key was confided to another. Documents were thus read and orders passed upon them twice a-day-once in the morning, and once again in the evening; and, on such occasions, all heads of departments were present. The present King continued this system for a short time, but he soon got tired of it, and made over seal and all to the minister, to do what he liked with them; and discontinued altogether the short Durbar, or levees, which his father, grandfather, and all former sovereigns had held–before they entered on the business of the day–with the heads of departments and secretaries, and at which all the members of the royal family and aristocracy of the city attended, to pay their respects to their sovereign; and soon ceased altogether to see the heads of departments and secretaries, to hear orders read, and to ask questions about state affairs.
The minister has become by degrees almost as inaccessible as his sovereign, to all but his deputies, heads of departments, secretaries, and Court favourites, whom it is his interest to conciliate. Though the minister has his own confidential deputies and secretaries, the same heads of departments are in office as under the present King’s father and grandfather; and, though no longer permitted to attend upon or see the King, they are still supposed to submit to the minister, for orders, all reports from local authorities, intelligence-writers, &c., and all petitions from sufferers; but, in reality, he sees and hears read very few, and passes orders upon still less. Any head of a department, deputy, secretary, or favourite, may receive petitions, to be submitted to the minister for orders; but it is the special duty of no one to receive them, nor is any one held responsible for submitting them for orders. Those only who are in the special confidence of the minister, or of those about Court, from whom he has something to hope or something to fear, venture to receive and submit petitions; and they drive a profitable trade in doing so. A large portion of those submitted are thrown aside, without any orders at all; a portion have orders so written as to show that they are never intended to be carried into effect; a third portion receive orders that are really intended to be acted upon. But they are taken to one of the minister’s deputies, with whose views or interests some of them may not square well; and he may detain them for weeks, months, or years, till the petitioners are worn out with “hope deferred,” or utterly ruined, in vain efforts to purchase the attention they require. Nothing is more common than for a peremptory order to be passed for the immediate payment of the arrears of pension due to a stipendiary member of the royal family, and for the payment to be deferred for eight, ten, and twelve months, till he or she consents to give from ten to twenty per cent., according to his or her necessities, to the deputy, who has to see the order carried out. A sufferer often, instead of getting his petition smuggled on to the minister in the mode above described, bribes a news-writer to insert his case in his report, to be submitted through the head of the department.
At present the head of the intelligence department assumes the same latitude, in submitting reports for orders to the minister, that his subordinates in distant districts assume in framing and sending them to him; that is, he submits only such as may suit his views and interests to submit! Where grave charges are sent to him against substantial men, or men high in office, he comes to an understanding with their representatives in Lucknow, and submits the report to the minister only as a dernière resort, when such representatives cannot be brought to submit to his terms. If found out, at any time, and threatened, he has his feed patrons or patronesses “behind the throne, and greater than the throne itself,” to protect him.
The unmeaning orders passed by the minister on reports and petitions are commonly that so and so is to inquire into the matter complained of; to see that the offenders are seized and punished; that the stolen property and usurped lands be restored; that razeenamas, or acquittances, be sent in by the friends of persons who have been murdered by the King’s officers; that the men, women, and children, confined and tortured by King’s officers, or by robbers and ruffians, be set at liberty and satisfied; the said so and so being the infant commander-in-chief, the King’s chamberlain, footman, coachman, chief fiddler, eunuch, barber, or person uppermost in his thoughts at the time. Similar orders are passed in his name by his deputies, secretaries, and favourites upon all the other numerous petitions and reports, which he sends to them unperused. Not, perhaps, upon one in five does the minister himself pass any order; and of the orders passed by him, not one in five, perhaps, is intended to be taken notice of. His deputies and favourites carry on a profitable trade in all such reports and petitions: they extort money alike from the wrong-doer and the wrong-sufferer; and from all local authorities, or their representatives, for all neglect of duty or abuses, of authority charged against them.
As to any investigation into the real merits of any case described in these reports from the news-writers and local authorities, no such thing has been heard of for several reigns. The real merits of all such cases are, however, well and generally known to the people of the districts in which they occur, and freely discussed by them with suitable remarks on the “darkness which prevails under the lamp of royalty;” and no less suitable execrations against the intolerable system which deprives the King of all feeling of interest in the well-being of his subjects, all sense of duty towards them, all feeling of responsibility to any higher power for the manner in which he discharges his high trust over the millions committed to his care.
As I have said, the King never sees any petition or report: he hardly ever sees even official notes addressed to him by the British Resident, and the replies to almost all are written without his knowledge.* The minister never puts either his seal or signature to any order that passes, or any document whatsoever, with his own hand: he merely puts in the date, as the 1st, 5th, or 10th; the month, year, and the order itself are inserted by the deputies, secretaries, or favourites, to whom the duty is confided. The reports and petitions submitted for orders often accumulate so fast in times of great festivity or ceremony, that the minister has them tied up in bundles, without any orders whatever having been passed on them, and sent to his deputies for such as they may think proper to pass, merely inserting his figure 1, 5, or 10, to indicate the date, on the outermost document of each bundle. If any orders are inserted by his deputies on the rest, they have only to insert the same date. There is nothing but the figure to attest the authenticity of the order; and it would be often impossible for the minister himself to say whether the figure was inserted by himself or by any other person. These deputies are the men who adjust all the nuzuranas, or unauthorized gratuities, to be paid to the minister.
[* On the 17th of October, 1850, Hassan Khan, one of the khowas, or pages, whose special duty it is to deliver all papers to the King, fell under his Majesty’s displeasure, and his house was seized and searched. Several of the Resident’s official notes were found unopened among his papers. They had been sent to the palace as emergent many months before, but never shown to the King. Such official notes from the Resident are hardly every shown to the King, nor is he consulted about the orders to be passed upon them.]
They share largely in all that he gets; and take a great deal, for which they render him no account. Knowing all that he takes, and ought not to take, he dares not punish them for their transgressions; and knowing this, sufferers are afraid to complain against them. In ordinary times, or under ordinary sovereigns, the sums paid by revenue authorities in nazuranas, or gratuities, before they were permitted to enter on their charges, amounted to, perhaps, ten or fifteen per cent.: under the present sovereign they amount, I believe, to more than twenty-five per cent. upon the revenue they are to collect. Of these the minister and his deputies take the largest part. A portion is paid in advance, and good bonds are taken for the rest, to be paid within the year. Of the money collected, more than twenty-five per cent., on an average, is appropriated by those intrusted with the disbursements, and by their patrons and patronesses. The sovereign gets, perhaps, three-fourths of what is collected; and of what is collected, perhaps two-thirds, on an average, reaches its legitimate destination; so that one-half of the revenues of Oude may be considered as taken by officers and Court favourites in unauthorized gratuities and perquisites. The pay of the troops and establishments, on duty with the revenue collectors, is deducted by them, and the surplus only is sent to the Treasury at Lucknow. In his accounts he receives credit for all sums paid to the troops and establishments on duty under him. Though the artillery-bullocks get none of the grain, for which he pays and charges Government, a greater portion of the whole of what he pays and charges in his accounts reaches its legitimate destination, perhaps, than of the whole of what is paid from the Treasury at the capital. On an average, however, I do not think that more than two- thirds of what is paid and charged to Government reaches that destination.
I may instance the two regiments, under Thakur Sing, Tirbaydee; which are always on duty at the palace. It is known that the officers and sipahees of those regiments do not get more than one-half of the pay which is issued for them every month from the Treasury; the other half is absorbed by the commandant and his patrons at Court. On everything sold in the palace, the vender is obliged to add one-third to the price, to be paid to the person through whom it is passed in. Without this, nothing can be sold in the palace by European or native. Not a single animal in the King’s establishments gets one- third of the food allowed for it, and charged for; not a building is erected or repaired at less than three times the actual outlay, two- thirds at least of the money charged going to the superintendent and his patrons.
December 23, 1849.–Halted at Sultanpoor, which is one of the healthiest stations in India, on the right bank of the Goomtee river, upon a dry soil, among deep ravines, which drain off the water rapidly. The bungalows are on the verge, looking down into the river, upon the level patches of land, dividing the ravines. The water in the wells is some fifty feet below the surface, on a level with the stream below. There are no groves within a mile of the cantonments; and no lakes, marshes, or jungles within a great many; and the single trees in and near the cantonments are few. The gardens are small and few; and the water is sparingly used in irrigating them, as the expense of drawing it is very great.
There is another good site for a cantonment at Chandour, some twelve miles up the river, on the opposite bank, and looking down upon the stream, from the verge, in the same manner. Chandour was chosen for his cantonments by Rajah Dursun Sing when he had the contract for the district; and it would be the best place for the head-quarters of any establishments, that any new arrangements might require for the administration of the Sultanpoor and surrounding districts. Secrora would be the best position for the head-quarters of those required for the administration of the Gonda-Bahraetch, and other surrounding districts. It is central, and has always been considered one of the healthiest places in Oude. It was long a cantonment for one of our regiments of infantry and some guns, which were, in 1835, withdrawn, and sent to increase the force at Lucknow, from two to three regiments of infantry. The regiment and guns at Sultanpoor were taken away in 1837. Secrora was, for some years after our regiment and guns had been withdrawn, occupied by a regiment and guns under Captain Barlow, one of the King of Oude’s officers; but it is now altogether deserted. Sultanpoor has been, ever since 1837, occupied by one of the two regiments of Oude local Infantry, without any guns or cavalry of any kind. There was also a regiment of our regular infantry at Pertabghur, three marches from Sultanpoor, on the road to Allahabad, with a regiment of our light cavalry. The latter was withdrawn in 1815 for the Nepaul war, and employed again under us during the Mahratta war in 1817 and 1818. It was sent back again in 1820; but soon after, in 1821, withdrawn altogether, and we have since had no cavalry of any kind in Oude. Seetapoor was also occupied by one of our regular regiments of infantry and some guns till 1837, when they were withdrawn, and their place supplied by the second regiment of Oude Local Infantry. Our Government now pays the two regiments of Oude Local Infantry stationed at Sultanpoor and Seetapoor; but the places of those stationed at Secrora and Pertabghur have never been supplied. One additional regiment of infantry is kept at Lucknow, so that our force in Oude has only been diminished by one regiment of infantry, one of cavalry, and eight guns, with a company and half of artillery. To do our duty honestly by Oude, we ought to restore the regiment of infantry; and in the place of the corps of light, send one of irregular cavalry. We ought also to restore the company and half of artillery and eight guns which have been withdrawn. We draw annually from the lands ceded to as in 1801, for the protection which we promised to the King and his people from “all internal and external enemies,” no less than two crores and twelve lacs of rupees, or two millions sterling a-year; while the Oude Government draws from the half of its territories which it reserved only one-half that sum, or one crore of rupees.
Maun Sing is to leave my camp to-day, and return to Shahgunge. Of the fraud and violence, abuse of power, and collusion with local authorities, by which he and his father seized upon the lands of so many hundreds of old proprietors, there can be no doubt; but to attempt to make the family restore them now, under such a government, would create great disorder, drive off all the better classes of cultivators, and desolate the face of the country, which they have rendered so beautiful by an efficient system of administration. Many of the most powerful of the landed aristocracy of Oude have acquired, or augmented, their estates in the same manner and within the same time; and the same difficulty would attend the attempt to restore the old proprietors in all parts. A strong and honest government might overcome all these difficulties, and restore to every rightful proprietor the land unjustly taken from him, within a limited period; but it should not attempt to enforce any adjustment of the accounts of receipts and disbursements for the intervening period. The old proprietor would receive back his land in an improved condition, and the usurper might fairly be considered to have reimbursed himself for all his outlay. The old proprietor should be required to pledge himself to respect the rights of all new tenants.
December 24, 1849.–Meranpoor, twelve miles. Soil between this and Sultanpoor neither so fertile nor so well cultivated, as we found it on the other side of the Goomtee river, though it is of the same denomination–generally doomut, but here and there mutear. The term mutear embraces all good argillaceous earth, from the light brown to the black, humic or ulmic deposit, found in the beds of tanks and lakes in Oude. The natives of Oude call the black soil of Malwa and southern India, and Bundlekund, muteear. This black soil has in its exhausted state abundance of silicates, sulphates, phosphates, and carbonates of alumina, potassa, lime, &c., and of organic acids, combined with the same unorganic substances, to attract and fix ammonia, and collect and store up moisture, and is exceedingly fertile and strong.
Both saltpetre and common salt are made by lixiviation from some of the poor oosur soils; but, from the most barren in Oude, carbonates of soda, used in making glass and soap, are taken. The earth is collected from the surface of the most barren spots and formed into small, shallow, round tanks, a yard in diameter. Water is then poured in, and the tank filled to the surface, with an additional supply of the earth, and smoothed over. This tank is then left exposed to the sun for two days, during the hottest and driest months of the year. March, April, and May, and part of June, when the crust, formed on the surface, is taken off. The process is repeated once; but in the second operation the tank is formed around and below by the debris of the first tank, which is filled to the surface, after the water has been poured in, with the first crust obtained. The second crust is called the reha, which is carbonate or bicarbonate of soda. This is formed into small cakes, which are baked to redness in an oven, or crucible, to expel the moisture and carbonic acid which it contains. They are then powdered to fine dust, which is placed in another crucible, and fused to liquid glass, the reha containing in itself sufficient silica to form the coarse glass used in making bracelets, &c.
A superabundance of nitrates seem also to impair or destroy fertility in the soil, and they may arise from the decomposition of animal or vegetable matter, in a soil containing a superabundance of porous lime. The atmospheric air and water, contained in the moist and porous soil, are decomposed. The hydrogen of the water combines with the nitrogen of the air, and that given off by the decomposing organic bodies, and forms ammonia. The nitrogen of the ammonia then takes up the oxygen of the air and water, and becoming nitric acid, forms nitrates with the lime, potash, soda, &c., contained in the soil. Without any superabundance of lime in the soil, however, the same effects may be produced, when there is a deficiency of decaying vegetable and animal matter, as the oxygen of the decomposed air and water, having no organic substances to unite with, may combine with the nitrogen of the ammonia, and form nitric acid; which, uniting with the lime, potash, soda, &c., may form the superabounding nitrates destructive of fertility.
This superabundance of reha, or carbonate of soda, which renders so much of the surface barren, must, I conclude, arise from deposits of common salt, or chloride of sodium. The water, as it percolates through these deposits towards the surface, becomes saturated with their alkaline salts; and, as it reaches the surface and becomes evaporated in the pure state, it leaves them behind at or near the surface. On its way to the surface, or at the surface, the chloride of sodium becomes decomposed by contact with carbonates of ammonia and potassa–sulphuric and nitric acids. In a soil well supplied with decaying animal or vegetable matter, these carbonates or sulphates of soda, as they rise to the surface, might be formed into nutriment for plants, and taken up by their roots; or in one well flooded occasionally with fresh water, any superabundance of the salts or their bases might be taken up in solution and carried off. The people say, that the soil in which these carbonates of soda (reha) abound, are more unmanageable than those in which nitrates abound: they tell me that, with flooding, irrigating, manuring, and well ploughing, they can manage to get crops from all but the soils in which this reha abounds.
The process above described, by which the bracelet makers extract the carbonates of soda and potash from the earth of the small, shallow tanks, is precisely the same as that by which they are brought from the deep bed of earth below and deposited on or near the surface. In both processes, the water which brings them near the surface goes off into the atmosphere in a pure state, and leaves the salts behind. To make soap from the reha, they must first remove the silex which it contains.
There are no rocks in Oude, and the only form in which lime is found for building purposes and road-pavements is that of kunkur, which is a carbonate of lime containing silica, and oxide of iron. In proportion as it contains the last, the kunkur is more or less red. That which contains none is of a dirty-white. It is found in many parts of India in thin layers, or amorphous masses, formed by compression, upon a stiff clay substratum; but in Oude I have seen it only in nodules, usually formed on nuclei of flint or other hard substances. The kingdom of Oude must have once been the bed, or part of the bed, of a large lake, formed by the diluvial detritus of the hills of the Himmalaya chain, and, as limestone abounds in that chain, the bed contains abundance of lime, which is taken up by the water that percolates through it from the rivers and from the rains and floods above. The lime thus taken up and held in solution with carbonic add gas, is deposited around the small fragments of flint or other hard substances which the waters find in their way. Where the floods which cover the surface during the rains come in rivers, flowing from the Himmalaya or other hills abounding in limestone rocks, they of course contain lime and carbonic-acid gas, which add to the kunkur nodules formed in the bed below; but in Oude the rivers seldom overflow to any extent, and the kunkur is, I believe, formed chiefly from the lime already existing in the bed.
Doctor O’Shaughnessy, the most eminent chemist now in India, tells me that there are two marked varieties of kunkur in India–the red and the white; that the red differs from the white solely in containing a larger proportion of peroxide of iron; that the white consists of carbonate of lime, silica, alumina, and sometimes magnesia and protoxide of iron. He states that he considers the kunkur to be deposited by calcareous waters, abounding in infusorial animalculæ; that the waters of the annual inundation are rich in lime, and that all the facts that have come under his observation appear to him to indicate that this is the source of the kunkur deposit, which is seen in a different form in the Italian travertine, and the crescent nodules of the Isle of Sheppey and of Bologne.
Doctor O’Shaughnessy further states, that the reha earth, which I sent to him from Oude, is identical with the sujjee muttee of Bengal, and contains carbonate of soda and sulphate of soda as its essential characteristic ingredients, with silicious clay and oxide of iron. But in Oude, the term “sujjee” is given to the carbonate and sulphate of soda which remains after the silex has been removed from the reha. The reha is fused into glass after the carbonic acid and moisture have been expelled by heat, and the sujjee is formed into soap, by the addition of lime, fat, and linseed oil, in the following proportions, I am told:–6 sujjee, 4 lime, 21/2 fat, and 11/2 ulsee oil.
The sujjee is formed from the reha by filtration. A tank is formed on a terrace of cement. In a hole at one corner is a small tube. Rows of bricks are put down from one end to the other, with intervals between for the liquor to flow through to the tube. On these rows a layer of stout reeds is first placed, and over them another layer composed of the leaves of these reeds. On this bed the coarse reha earth is placed without being refined by the process described in the text above. Some coarse common salt (kharee nimuck) is mixed up with the reha. The tank is then filled with water, which filters slowly through the earth and passes out through the tube into pans, whence it is taken to another tank upon a wider terrace of cement, where it evaporates and leaves the sujjee deposited. The second tank is commonly made close under the first, and the liquor flows into it through the tube, rendering pans unnecessary. It is only in the hot months of March, April, May, and part of June, till the rains begin to fall, that the reha and sujjee are formed. During the other nine months, the Looneas, who provide them, turn their hands to something else. The reha, deprived of its carbonic acid and moisture by heat, is fused into glass. Deprived of silex by this process of filtration, it is formed into sujjee, from which the soap is made.
On this process of filtration. Doctor O’Shaughnessy observes:-“I do not clearly understand the use of the common salt, used in the extraction of soda, in the process you described. But many of the empirical practices of the natives prove, on investigation, to square with the most scientific precepts. For example, their proportions in the manufacture of corrosive sublimate are precisely identical with those which the atomic theory leads the European chemist to follow. The filtering apparatus which you describe is really admirable, and I doubt much whether the best practical chemist could devise any simpler or cheaper way of arriving at the object in view.”
The country is well provided with mango and other fine trees, single, and in clusters and groves; but the tillage is slovenly and scanty, strongly indicative of want of security to life, property, and industry. No symptom of the residence of gardeners and other cultivators of the better classes, or irrigation, or the use of manure in tillage.
December 25, 1849.–Nawabgunge, eleven miles. The soil good, as indicated by the growth of fine trees on each side of the road as far as we could see over the level plain, and by the few fields of corn in sight; but the cultivation is deficient and slovenly. A great part of the road lay through the estate of Mundone, held by Davey Persaud, the tallookdar; and the few peasants who stood by the side of the road to watch their fields as we passed, and see the cavalcade, told me that the deficient tillage and population arose from his being in opposition to Government and diligently employed in plundering the country generally, and his own estates in particular, to reduce the local authorities to his own terms. The Government demand upon him is twenty thousand rupees. He paid little last year, and has paid still less during the present year, on the ground that his estate yields nothing. This is a common and generally successful practice among tallookdars, who take to fighting against the Government whether their cause be just or unjust. These peasants and cultivators told us that they had taken to the jungles for shelter, after the last harvest, till the season for sowing again commenced; remained in the fields, still houseless, during the night, worked in their fields in fear of their lives during the day; and apprehended that they should have to take to the jungles again as soon as their crops were gathered, if they were even permitted to gather them. They attributed as much blame to their landlord as to the Nazim, Wajid Allee Khan. He, however, bears a very bad character, and is said to have designedly thrown a good deal of the districts under his charge out of tillage in the hope that no other person would venture to take the contract for it in that condition, and that he should, in consequence, be invited to retain it on more favourable terms. He was twelve lacs of rupees in balance when superseded at the end of the year, in September last, by the present governor, Aga Allee, who manages the same districts on a salary of two thousand rupees a- month, without any contract for the revenues, but with the understanding that he is to collect, or at least to pay, a certain sum.
The late contractor will no doubt relieve himself from the burthen of this balance in the usual way. He will be imprisoned for a time till he pays, or enters into engagements to pay, to the minister and the influential men at Court, as much as they think he can be made to pay, in bribes, and some half of that sum into the Treasury, and have all the rest struck out of the accounts as irrecoverable–perhaps two lacs in bribes, and one to the Treasury may secure him an acquittance, and a fair chance of employment hereafter. His real name is Wajid Allee; but as that is the name of the King, he is commonly called Ahmud Allee, that the royal ears may not take offence.
December 26, 1849.–Pertabghur, distance eight miles. In the course of fourteen years, almost all signs of one of the most healthful and most agreeable cantonments of the Bengal army have been effaced. Fine crops of corn now cover what were the parades for cavalry, infantry, and artillery, and the gardens and compounds of officers’ bungalows. The grounds, which were once occupied by the old cantonments, are now let out to cultivators, immediately under Government, and they are well cultivated; but the tillage of the rest of the country we have this morning passed over is scanty and slovenly. The Rajah of Pertabghur has, for some time, been on bad terms with the contractors, greatly in arrears, and commonly in opposition to the Government, having his band of armed followers in the jungles, and doing nothing but mischief. This is the case with most of the tallookdars of the country over which I have passed. Not one in five, or I may say one in ten, attends the viceroys, because it would not be safe to do so; or pays the demands of Government punctually, because there is no certainty in them.
I passed down the line of Captain Magness’s corps, which is at present stationed at Pertabghur. It is as well-dressed, and as fine a looking corps as any infantry regiment in our own native army, and has always shown itself as good on service. It has eight guns attached to it, well provided and served. The artillery-men, drivers, &c., are as well dressed and as fit for their duties as our own. Stores and ammunition are abundant, but the powder is execrable. Captain Magness is a good officer. The guns are six 6-pounders, drawn by bullocks; and two gallopers of very small calibre, drawn by horses. They are not adapted for the duties they have to perform, which is chiefly against mud-forts and strongholds; and four 9- pounders, two howitzers, and two mortars would be better. They are, however, well manned and provided with bullocks, ammunition and stores. The finest young men in Oude are glad to take service under Captain Magness; and the standard height of his men is at present five feet ten inches. He has some few men, good for nothing, called sufarishies, whom he is obliged to keep in on account of the persons by whom they are recommended, eunuchs, fiddlers, and Court favourites, of all kinds. In no country are there a body of finer looking recruits than Captain Magness now has at drill. All of the first families in the country, and of unquestionable courage and fidelity to their salt. He has four hundred Cavalry, of what is called the body guard, men well dressed, and of fine appearance. These Cavalry are, however, likely soon to be taken from him, and made over to some good-for-nothing Court favourite.* He has about seven hundred men present with his Infantry corps. His adjutant, Yosuf Khan, speaks English well, and has travelled a good deal in England, Europe generally, and Palestine. He is a sensible, unprejudiced man, and good soldier. Captain Magness attends the Nazim of the district; but, unfortunately, like all the commandants of corps and public servants of the State, he is obliged to forage for fodder and fuel. A foraging party is sent out every day, be where they will, to take these things gratis, wherever they can find them most conveniently. Bhoosa, grass and wood are the things which they are authorized to take, without payment, wherever they can find them; but they, of course, take a good many other things. The Government allows nothing to any of its troops or establishments, for these things, except when they are in Lucknow. The consequence is, that there is hardly a good cover to any man’s house, or sufficient fodder for the cattle of any village, during the hot season and rains.
[* They were soon after taken from Captain Magness and given to Mr. Johannes; and soon after taken from him, and made over to an eunuch, who turned out all the good men, to sell their places to men good for nothing. They mutinied; but the King and minister supported the eunuch, and the greater part of the men were discharged and their officers ruined.]
December 27, 1849–Halted at Pertabghur. I had a visit from many of the persons who were in my service, when I was here with my regiment thirty years ago, as watchmen, gardeners, &c. They continue to hold and till the lands, which they or their fathers then tilled; and the change in them is not so great as that which has taken place within the same time among my old native friends, who survive in the Saugor and Nerbudda districts, where the air is less dry, and the climate less congenial to the human frame. The natives say that the air and water of Malwa may produce as good trees and crops as those of Oude, but can never produce such good soldiers. This, I believe, is quite true. The Sultanpoor district is included in the Banoda division of Oude; and the people speak of the water of this division for tempering soldiers, as we talk of the water of Damascus, for tempering sword blades. They certainly never seem so happy as when they are fighting in earnest with swords, spears, and matchlocks. The water of the Byswara division is considered to be very little inferior to that of Banoda, and we get our sipahees from these two divisions almost exclusively.
Captain Magness’s corps is, at present, attached to the Nazim of this district, with its guns, and squadron of horse, as an auxiliary force. Over and above this force, he has nine regiments of Nujeebs, detachments of other Corps, Artillery, Pioneers, &c., amounting, in all, according to the musters and pay-drafts, to seven thousand seven hundred and seventy-eight men, for whom thirty-seven thousand seven hundred and ninety-three rupees a-month are drawn. Of these, fifteen hundred are dead or have deserted, or are absent on leave without pay. Their pay is all appropriated by the commandants of corps or Court favourites. Fifteen hundred more are in attendance on the commandants of corps, who reside at the capital, and their friends or other influential persons about the Court, or engaged in their own trades or affairs, having been put into the corps by influential persons at Court, to draw pay, but do no duty. Of the remaining four thousand seven hundred and seventy-eight, one-third, or one thousand five hundred and ninety-two, are what is called sufarishies, or men who are unfit for duty, and have been put in by influential persons at Court, to appear at muster and draw pay. Of the remaining three thousand one hundred and eighty-six present, there would be no chance of getting more than two-thirds, or two thousand one hundred and twenty-four men to fight on emergency–indeed, the Nazim would think himself exceedingly lucky if he could get one-third to do so.
Of the forty-two guns, thirteen are utterly useless on the ground; and out of the remaining twenty-nine, there are draft bullocks for only five. But there are no stores or ammunition for any of them; and the Nazim is obliged to purchase what powder and ball he may require in the bazaars. None of the gun-carriages have been repaired for the last twenty years, and the strongest of them would go to pieces after a few rounds. Very few of them would stand one round with good powder. Five hundred rupees are allowed for fitting up the carriage and tumbril of each gun, after certain intervals of from five to ten years; and this sum has, no doubt, been drawn over and over for these guns, during the twenty years, within which they have had no repairs whatever. If the local governor is permitted to draw this sum, he is sure never to expend one farthing of it on the gun. If the person in charge of the ordnance at Lucknow draws it, the guns and tumbrils are sent in to him, and returned with, at least, a coating of paint and putty, but seldom with anything else. The two persons in charge of the two large parks at Lucknow, from which the guns are furnished, Anjum-od Dowlah, and Ances-od Dowlah, a fiddler, draw the money for the corn allowed for the draft bullocks, at the rate of three pounds per diem for each, and distribute, or pretend to distribute it through the agents of the grain-dealers, with whom they contract for the supply; and the district officers, under whom these draft bullocks are employed, are never permitted to interfere. They have nothing to do but pay for the grain allowed; and the agents, employed to feed the bullocks, do nothing but appropriate the money for themselves and their employers. Not a grain of corn do the bullocks ever get.
The Nazim has charge of the districts of Sultanpoor, Haldeemow, Pertabghur, Jugdeespoor, and that part of Fyzabad which is not included in the estate of Bukhtawar Sing, yielding, altogether, about ten and a half lacs of rupees to Government. He exercises entire fiscal, judicial, magisterial and police authority over all these districts. To aid him in all these duties, he has four deputies–one in each district–upon salaries of one hundred and fifty rupees each a-month, with certain fees and perquisites. To inquire into particular cases, over all these districts, he employs a special deputy, paid out of his own salary. All the accountants and other writers, employed under him, are appointed by the deputies and favourites of the minister; and, considering themselves as their creatures, they pay little regard to their immediate master, the Nazim. But over and above these men, from whom he does get some service, he has to pay a good many, from whom he can get none. He is, before he enters upon his charge, obliged to insert, in his list of civil functionaries, to be paid monthly, out of the revenues, a number of writers and officers, of all descriptions, recommended to him by these deputies and other influential persons at Court. Of these men he never sees or knows anything. They are the children, servants, creatures, or dependents of the persons who recommend them, and draw their pay. These are called civil sufarishies, and cost the State much more than the military sufarishies_, already mentioned–perhaps not less than six thousand rupees a-month in this division alone.
The Nazim is permitted to levy for incidental expenses, only ten per cent. over and above the Government demand; and required to send one- half of this sum to Court, for distribution. He is ostensibly required to limit himself to this sum, and to abstain from taking the gratuities, usually exacted by the revenue contractors, for distribution among ministers and other influential persons at Court. Were he to do so, they would all be so strongly opposed to the amanee, or trust system of management, and have it in their power so much to thwart him, in all his measures and arrangements, that he could never possibly get on with his duties; and the disputes between them generally results in a compromise. He takes, in gratuities, something less than his contracting predecessors took, and shares, what he takes, liberally, with those whose assistance he requires at Court. These gratuities, or nuzuranas, never appeared, in the public accounts; and were a governor, under the amanee system, to demand the full rates paid to contractors, the more powerful landholders would refer him to these public accounts, and refuse to pay till he could assure them of the same equivalents in nanker and other things, which they were in the habit of receiving from contractors. These, as a mere trust manager, he may not be able to give; and he consents to take something less. The landholders know that where the object is to exact the means to gratify influential persons about Court, the Nazim would be likely to get good military support, if driven to extremity, and consent to pay the greater part of what is demanded. When the trust manager, by his liberal remittances to Court patrons, gets all the troops he requires, he exacts the full gratuities, and still higher and more numerous if strong enough. The corps under Captains Magness, Bunbury, Barlow, and Subha Sing, are called komukee, or auxiliary regiments; and they are every season, and sometimes often in the same season, sold to the highest bidder as a perquisite by the minister. The services of Captain Magness and Captain Bunbury’s corps were purchased in this way for 1850 and 1851, by Aga Allee, the Nazim of Sultanpoor, and he has made the most of them. No contractor ever exacted higher nazuranas or gratuities than he has, by their aid, this season, though he still holds the district as a trust manager. Ten, twenty, or thirty thousand rupees are paid for the use of one of these regiments, according to the exigency of the occasion, or the time for which it may be required.
The system of government under which Oude suffers during the reign of the best king is a fearful one; and what must it be under a sovereign, so indifferent as the present is, to the sufferings of his people, to his own permanent interests, and to the duties and responsibilities of his high station? Seeing that our Government attached much importance to the change, from the contract to the trust system of management, the present minister is putting a large portion of the country under that system in the hope of blinding us. But there is virtually little or no change in the administration of such districts; the person who has the charge of a district under it is obliged to pay the same gratuities to public officers and court favourites, and he exacts the same, or nearly the same from the landholders; he is under no more check than the contractor, and the officers and troops under him, abuse their authority in the same manner, and commit the same outrages upon the suffering people. Security to life and property is disregarded in the same manner; he confines himself as exclusively to the duties of collecting revenue, and is as regardless of security to life and property, and of fidelity to his engagements, as the landholders in his jurisdiction. The trust management of a district differs from that of the contractors, only as the wusoolee kubaz differs from the lakulamee; though he does not enter into a formal contract to pay a certain sum, he is always expected to pay such a sum, and if he does not, he is obliged to wipe off the balance in the same way, and is kept in gaol till he does so, in the same way. Indeed, I believe, the people would commonly rather be under a contractor, than a trust manager under the Oude Government; and this was the opinion of Colonel Low, who, of all my predecessors, certainly knew most about the real state of Oude.
The Nazim of Sultanpoor has authority to entertain such Tehseeldars and Jumogdars as he may require, for the collection of the revenue. Of these he has, generally, from fifty to sixty employed, on salaries varying from fifteen to thirty rupees a-month each. The Tehseeldar is employed here, as elsewhere, in the collection of the land revenue, in the usual way; but the Jumogdar is an officer unknown in our territories. Some are appointed direct from Court, and some by the Nazims and Amils of districts. When a landholder has to pay his revenue direct to Government (as all do, who are included in what is called the Hozoor Tehseel), and he neglects to do so punctually, a Jumogdar is appointed. The landholder assembles his tenants, and they enter into pledges to pay direct to the Jumogdar the rents due by them to the landholder, under existing engagements, up to a certain time. This may be the whole, or less than the whole, amount due to Government by the landholder. If any of them fail to pay what they promise to the Jumogdar, the landholder is bound to make good the deficiency at the end of the year. He also binds himself to pay to Government whatever may be due over and above what the tenants pledge themselves to pay to the Jumogdar. This transfer of responsibility, from the landholder to his tenants, is called “Jumog Lagana,” or transfer of the jumma. The assembly of the tenants, for the purpose of such-adjustment, is called zunjeer bundee, or linking together. The adjustment thus made is called the bilabundee. The salary of the Jumogdar is paid by the landholder, who distributes the burthen of the payment upon his tenants, at a per centage rate. The Jumogdar takes written engagements from the tenants; and they are bound not to pay anything to the landholder till they have paid him (the Jumogdar) all that they are, by these engagements, bound to pay him. He does all he can to make them pay punctually; but he is not, properly, held responsible for any defalcation. Such responsibility rests with the landlords. Where much difficulty is expected from the refractory character of the landholder, the officer commanding the whole, or some part of the troops in the district, is often appointed the Jumogdar; and the amount which the tenants pledge themselves to pay to him is debited to him, in the pay of the troops, under his command.
The Jumogdars, who are appointed by the Nazims and Amils, act in the same manner with regard to the landlords and tenants, to whom they are accredited, and are paid in the same manner. There may be one, or there may be one hundred, Jumogdars in a district, according to the necessity for their employment, in the collection of the revenue. They are generally men of character, influence, and resolution; and often useful to both, or all three parties; but when they are officers commanding troops, they are often very burthensome to landlords and tenants. The Jumogdar has only to receive the sums due, according to existing engagements between the parties, and to see that no portion of them is paid to any other person. He has nothing to do with apportioning the demand, or making the engagements between tenants and landlords, or landlords and Government officers.
The Canoongoes and Chowdheries in Oude are commonly called Seghadars, and their duties are the same here as everywhere else in India.
December 28, 1849.–Twelve miles to Hundore, over a country more undulating and better cultivated than any we have seen since we recrossed the Goomtee river at Sultanpoor. It all belongs to the Rajah of Pertabghur, Shumshere Babadur, a Somebunsee, who resides at Dewlee, some six miles from Pertabghur. His family is one of the oldest and most respectable in Oude; but his capital of Pertabghur, where he used to reside till lately, is one of the most beggarly. He seems to have concentrated there all the beggars in the country, and there is not a house of any respectable to be seen. The soil, all the way, has been what they call the doomut, or doomuteea, which is well adapted to all kinds of tillage, but naturally less strong than muteear or argillaceous earth, and yields scanty crops, where it is not well watered and manured.
The Rajah came to my camp in the afternoon, and attended me on his elephant in the evening when I went round the town, and to his old mud fort, now in ruins, within which is the old residence of the family. He does not pay his revenue punctually, nor is he often prepared to attend the viceroy when required; and it was thought that he would not come to me. Finding that the Korwar and other Rajahs and large landholders, who had been long on similar terms with the local authorities, had come in, paid their respects, and been left free, he also ventured to my camp. For the last thirty years the mutual confidence which once subsisted between the Government authorities and the great landholders of these districts has been declining, and it ceased altogether under the last viceroy, Wajid Allee Khan, who appears to have been a man without any feeling of humanity or sense of honour. No man ever knew what he would be called upon to pay to Government in the districts under him; and almost all the respectable landholders prepared to defend what they had by force of arms; deserted their homes, and took to the jungles with as many followers as they could collect and subsist, as soon as he entered on his charge. The atrocities charged against him, and upon the best possible evidence, are numerous and great.
The country we have passed through to-day is well studded with fine trees, among which the mhowa abounds more than usual. The parasite plant, called the bandha, or Indian mistletoe, ornaments the finest mhowa and mango trees. It is said to be a disease, which appears as the tree grows old, and destroys it if not cut away. The people, who feel much regard for their trees, cut these parasite plants away; and there is no prejudice against removing them among Hindoos, though they dare not cut away a peepul-tree which is destroying their wells, houses, temples, or tombs; nor do they, with some exceptions, dare to destroy a wolf, though he may have eaten their own children, or actually have one of them in his mouth. In all parts of India, Hindoos have a notion that the family of a man who kills a wolf, or even wounds it, goes soon to utter ruin; and so also the village within the boundaries of which a wolf has been killed or wounded. They have no objection to their being killed by other people away from the villages; on the contrary, are very glad to have them so destroyed, as long as their blood does not drop on their premises. Some Rajpoot families in Oude, where so many children are devoured by wolves, are getting over this prejudice. The bandha is very ornamental to the fine mhowa and mango trees, to the branches of which it hangs suspended in graceful festoons, with a great variety of colours and tints, from deep scarlet and green to light-red and yellow.
Wolves are numerous in the neighbourhood of Sultanpoor, and, indeed, all along the banks of the Goomtee river, among the ravines that intersect them; and a great many children are carried off by them from towns, villages, and camps. It is exceedingly difficult to catch them, and hardly any of the Hindoo population, save those of the very lowest class who live a vagrant life, and bivouac in the jungles, or in the suburbs of towns and villages, will attempt to catch or kill them. All other Hindoos have a superstitious dread of destroying or even injuring them; and a village community within the boundary of whose lands a drop of wolf’s blood has fallen believes itself doomed to destruction. The class of little vagrant communities above mentioned, who have no superstitious dread of destroying any living thing, eat jackalls and all kinds of reptiles, and catch all kinds of animals, either to feed upon themselves, or to sell them to those who wish to keep or hunt them.
But it is remarkable, that they very seldom catch wolves, though they know all their dens, and could easily dig them out as they dig out other animals. This is supposed to arise from the profit which they make by the gold and silver bracelets, necklaces and other ornaments worn by the children whom the wolves carry to their dens and devour, and are left at the entrance of their dens. A party of these men lately brought to our camp alive a very large hyæna, which was let loose and hunted down by the European officers and the clerks of my office. One of the officers asked them whether this was not the reason why they did not bring wolves to camp, to be hunted down in the same way, since officers would give more for brutes that ate children, than for such as fed only on dogs or carrion. They dared not deny, though they were ashamed or afraid to acknowledge, that it was. I have myself no doubt that this is the reason, and that they do make a good deal in this way from the children’s ornaments, which they find at the entrance of wolves’ dens. In every part of India, a great number of children are every day murdered for the sake of their ornaments, and the fearful examples that come daily to the knowledge of parents, and the injunctions of the civil authorities are unavailing against this desire to see their young children decked out in gold and silver ornaments.
There is now at Sultanpoor a boy who was found alive in a wolf’s den, near Chandour, about ten miles from Sultanpoor, about two years and a half ago. A trooper, sent by the native governor of the district to Chandour, to demand payment of some revenue, was passing along the bank of the river near Chandour about noon, when he saw a large female wolf leave her den, followed by three whelps and a little boy. The boy went on all fours, and seemed to be on the best possible terms with the old dam and the three whelps, and the mother seemed to guard all four with equal care. They all went down to the river and drank without perceiving the trooper, who sat upon his horse watching them. As soon as they were about to turn back, the trooper pushed on to cut off and secure the boy; but he ran as fast as the whelps could, and kept up with the old one. The ground was uneven, and the trooper’s horse could not overtake them. They all entered the den, and the trooper assembled some people from Chandour with pickaxes, and dug into the den. When they had dug in about six or eight feet, the old wolf bolted with her three whelps and the boy. The trooper mounted and pursued, followed by the fleetest young men of the party; and as the ground over which they had to fly was more even, he headed them, and turned the whelps and boy back upon the men on foot, who secured the boy, and let the old dam and her three cubs go on their way.
They took the boy to the village, but had to tie him, for he was very restive, and struggled hard to rush into every hole or den they came near. They tried to make him speak, but could get nothing from him but an angry growl or snarl. He was kept for several days at the village, and a large crowd assembled every day to see him. When a grown-up person came near him, he became alarmed, and tried to steal away; but when a child came near him, he rushed at it, with a fierce snarl like that of a dog, and tried to bite it. When any cooked meat was put before him, he rejected it in disgust; but when any raw meat was offered, he seized it with avidity, put it on the ground under his paws, like a dog, and ate it with evident pleasure. He would not let any one come near him while he was eating, but he made no objection to a dog coming and sharing his food with him. The trooper remained with him four or five days, and then returned to the governor, leaving the boy in charge of the Rajah of Hasunpoor. He related all that he had seen, and the boy was soon after sent to the European officer commanding the First Regiment of Oude Local Infantry at Sultanpoor, Captain Nicholetts, by order of the Rajah of Hasunpoor, who was at Chandour, and saw the boy when the trooper first brought him to that village. This account is taken from the Rajah’s own report of what had taken place.
Captain Nicholetts made him over to the charge of his servants, who take great care of him, but can never get him to speak a word. He is very inoffensive, except when teased, Captain Nicholetts says, and will then growl surlily at the person who teases him. He had come to eat anything that is thrown to him, but always prefers raw flesh, which he devours most greedily. He will drink a whole pitcher of butter-milk when put before him, without seeming to draw breath. He can never be induced to keep on any kind of clothing, even in the coldest weather. A quilt stuffed with cotton was given to him when it became very cold this season, but he tore it to pieces, and ate a portion of it, cotton and all, with his bread every day. He is very fond of bones, particularly uncooked ones, which he masticates apparently with as much ease as meat. He has eaten half a lamb at a time without any apparent effort, and is very fond of taking up earth and small stones and eating them. His features are coarse, and his countenance repulsive; and he is very filthy in his habits. He continues to be fond of dogs and jackals, and all other small four- footed animals that come near him; and always allows them to feed with him if he happens to be eating when they approach.
Captain Nicholetts, in letters dated the 14th and 19th of September, 1850, told me that the boy died in the latter end of August, and that he was never known to laugh or smile. He understood little of what was said to him, and seemed to take no notice of what was going on around him. He formed no attachment for any one, nor did he seem to care for any one. He never played with any of the children around him, or seemed anxious to do so. When not hungry he used to sit petting and stroking a pareear or vagrant dog, which he used to permit to feed out of the same dish with him. A short time before his death Captain Nicholetts shot this dog, as he used to eat the greater part of the food given to the boy, who seemed in consequence to be getting thin. The boy did not seem to care in the least for the death of the dog. The parents recognised the boy when he was first found, Captain Nicholetts believes; but when they found him to be so stupid and insensible, they left him to subsist upon charity. They have now left Hasunpoor, and the age of the boy when carried off cannot be ascertained; but he was to all appearance about nine or ten years of age when found, and he lived about three years afterwards. He used signs when he wanted anything, and very few of them except when hungry, and he then pointed to his mouth. When his food was placed at some distance from him, he would run to it on all fours like any four-footed animal; but at other times he would walk upright occasionally. He shunned human beings of all kinds, and would never willingly remain near one. To cold, heat, and rain he appeared to be indifferent; and he seemed to care for nothing but eating. He was very quiet, and required no kind of restraint after being brought to Captain Nicholetts. He had lived with Captain Nicholetts’ servants about two years, and was never heard to speak till within a few minutes of his death, when he put his hands to his head, and said “it ached,” and asked for water: he drank it, and died.
At Chupra, twenty miles east from Sultanpoor, lived a cultivator with his wife and son, who was then three years of age. In March, 1843, the man went to cut his crop of wheat and pulse, and the woman took her basket and went with him to glean, leading her son by the arm. The boy had lately recovered from a severe scald on the left knee, which he got in the cold weather, from tumbling into the fire, at which he had been warming himself while his parents were at work. As the father was reaping and the mother gleaning, the boy sat upon the grass. A wolf rushed upon him suddenly from behind a bush, caught him up by the loins, and made off with him towards the ravines. The father was at a distance at the time, but the mother followed, screaming as loud an she could for assistance. The people of the village ran to her aid, but they soon lost sight of the wolf and his prey.
She heard nothing more of her boy for six years, and had in that interval lost her husband. At the end of that time, two sipahees came, in the month of February, 1849, from the town of Singramow, which is ten miles from Chupra, on the bank of the Khobae rivulet. While they sat on the border of the jungle, which extended down to the stream, watching for hogs, which commonly come down to drink at that time in the morning, they saw there three wolf cubs and a boy come out from the jungle, and go down together to the stream to drink. The sipahees watched them till they had drank, and were about to return, when they rushed towards them. All four ran towards a den in the ravines. The sipahees followed as fast as they could; but the three cubs had got in before the sipahees could come up with them, and the boy was half way in when one of the sipahees caught him by the hind leg, and drew him back. He seemed very angry and ferocious, bit at them, and seized in his teeth the barrel of one of their guns, which they put forward to keep him off, and shook it. They however secured him, brought him home, and kept him for twenty days. They could for that time make him eat nothing but raw flesh, and they fed him upon hares and birds. They found it difficult to provide him with sufficient food, and took him to the bazaar in the village of Koeleepoor; and there let him go to be fed by the charitable people of the place till he might be recognised and claimed by his parents. One market-day a man from the village of Chupra happened to see him in the bazaar, and on his return mentioned the circumstance to his neighbours. The poor cultivator’s widow, on hearing this, asked him to describe the boy more minutely, when she found that the boy had the mark of a scald on the left knee, and three marks of the teeth of an animal on each side of his loins. The widow told him that her boy when taken off had lately recovered from a scald on the left knee, and was seized by the loins when the wolf took him off, and that the boy he had seen must be her lost child.
She went off forthwith to the Koelee bazaar, and, in addition to the two marks above described, discovered a third mark on his thigh, with which her child was born. She took him home to her village, where he was recognised by all her neighbours. She kept him for two months, and all the sporting landholders in the neighbourhood sent her game for him to feed upon. He continued to dip his face in the water to drink, but he sucked in the water, and did not lap it up like a dog or wolf. His body continued to smell offensively. When the mother went to her work, the boy always ran into the jungle, and she could never get him to speak. He followed his mother for what he could get to eat, but showed no particular affection for her; and she could never bring herself to feel much for him; and after two months, finding him of no use to her, and despairing of even making anything of him, she left him to the common charity of the village. He soon after learnt to eat bread when it was given him, and ate whatever else he could get during the day, but always went off to the jungle at night. He used to mutter something, but could never be got to articulate any word distinctly. The front of his knees and elbows had become hardened from going on all fours with the wolves. If any clothes are put on him, he takes them off, and commonly tears them to pieces in doing so. He still prefers raw flesh to cooked, and feeds on carrion whenever he can get it. The boys of the village are in the habit of amusing themselves by catching frogs and throwing them to him; and he catches and eats them. When a bullock dies, and the skin is removed, he goes and eats it like a village dog. The boy is still in the village, and this is the description given of him by the mother herself, who still lives at Chupra. She has never experienced any return of affection for him, nor has he shown any such feeling for her. Her story is confirmed by all her neighbours, and by the head landholders, cultivators, and shopkeepers of the village.*
[* In November, 1850, Captain Nicholetts, on leaving the cantonments of Sultanpoor, where he commanded, ordered this boy to be sent in to me with his mother, but he got alarmed on the way and ran to a jungle. He will no doubt find his way back soon if he lives.]
The Rajah of Hasunpoor Bundooa mentions, as a fact within his own knowledge, besides the others, for the truth of which he vouches, that, in the year 1843, a lad came to the town of Hasunpoor, who had evidently been brought up by wolves. He seemed to be twelve years of age when he saw him–was very dark, and ate flesh, whether cooked or uncooked. He had short hair all over his body when he first came, but having, for a time, as the Rajah states, eaten salt with his food, like other human beings, the hair by degrees disappeared. He could walk, like other men, on his legs, but could never be taught to speak. He would utter sounds like wild animals, and could be made to understand signs very well. He used to sit at a bunneea’s shop in the bazaar, but was at last recognised by his parents, and taken off. What became of him afterwards he knows not. The Rajah’s statement regarding this lad is confirmed by all the people of the town, but none of them know what afterwards became of him.
About the year 1843, a shepherd of the village of Ghutkoree, twelve miles west from the cantonments of Sultanpoor, saw a boy trotting along upon all fours, by the side of a wolf, one morning, as he was out with his flock. With great difficulty he caught the boy, who ran very fast, and brought him home. He fed him for some time, and tried to make him speak, and associate with men or boys, but he failed. He continued to be alarmed at the sight of men, but was brought to Colonel Gray, who commanded the first Oude Local Infantry, at Sultanpoor. He and Mrs. Gray, and all the officers in cantonments, saw him often, and kept him for several days. But he soon after ran off into the jungle, while the shepherd was asleep. The shepherd, afterwards, went to reside in another village, and I could not ascertain whether he recovered the boy or not.
Zoolfukar Khan, a respectable landholder of Bankeepoor, in the estate of Hasunpoor, ten miles east from the Sultahpoor cantonments, mentions that about eight or nine years ago a trooper came to the town, with a lad of about nine or ten years of age, whom he had rescued from wolves among the ravines on the road; that he knew not what to do with him, and left him to the common charity of the village; that he ate everything offered to him, including bread, but before taking it he carefully smelt at it, and always preferred undressed meat to everything else; that he walked on his legs like other people when he saw him, though there were evident signs on his knees and elbows of his having gone, very long, on all fours; and when asked to run on all fours he used to do so, and went so fast that no one could overtake him; how long he had been with the trooper, or how long it took him to learn to walk on his legs, he knows not. He could not talk, or utter any very articulate sounds. He understood signs, and heard exceedingly well, and would assist the cultivators in turning trespassing cattle out of their fields, when told by signs to do so. Boodhoo, a Brahmin cultivator of the village, took care of him, and he remained with him for three months, when he was claimed and taken off by his father, a shepherd, who said that the boy was six years old when the wolf took him off at night some four years before; he did not like to leave Boodhoo, the Brahmin, and the father was obliged to drag him away. What became of him afterwards he never heard. The lad had no hair upon his body, nor had he any dislike to wear clothes, while he saw him. This statement was confirmed by the people of the village.
About seven years ago a trooper belonging to the King, and in attendance on Rajah Hurdut Sing of Bondee, alias Bumnotee, on the left bank of the Ghagra river, in the Bahraetch district, was passing near a small stream which flows into that river, when he saw two wolf cubs and a boy drinking in the stream. He had a man with him on foot, and they managed to seize the boy, who appeared to be about ten years of age. He took him up on the pummel of his saddle, but he was so wild and fierce that he tore the trooper’s clothes and bit him severely in several places, though he had tied his hands together. He brought him to Bondee, where the Rajah had him tied up in his artillery gun-shed, and gave him raw-flesh to eat: but he several times cut his ropes and ran off; and after three months the Rajah got tired of him, and let him go. He was then taken by a Cashmeeree mimic, or comedian (bhand), who fed and took care of him for six weeks*; but at the end of that time he also got tired of him (for his habits were filthy), and let him go to wander about the Bondee bazaar. He one day ran off with a joint of meat from a butcher’s shop, and soon after upset some things in the shop of a bunneeah, who let fly an arrow at him. The arrow penetrated the boy’s thigh. At this time Sanaollah, a Cashmere merchant of Lucknow, was at Bondee, selling some shawl goods to the Rajah, on the occasion of his brother’s marriage. He had many servants with him, and among them Janoo, a khidmutgar lad, and an old sipahee, named Ramzan Khan. Janoo took compassion upon the poor boy, extracted the arrow from his thigh, had his wound dressed, and prepared a bed for him under the mango-tree, where he himself lodged, but kept him tied to a tent-pin. He would at that time eat nothing but raw flesh. To wean him from this, Janoo, with the consent of his master, gave him rice and pulse to eat. He rejected them for several days, and ate nothing; but Janoo persevered, and by degrees made him eat the balls which he prepared for him: he was fourteen or fifteen days in bringing him to do this. The odour from his body was very offensive, and Janoo had him rubbed with mustard-seed soaked in water, after the oil had been taken from it (khullee), in the hope of removing this smell. He continued this for some months, and fed him upon rice, pulse, and flour bread, but the odour did not leave him. He had hardened marks upon his knees and elbows, from having gone on all fours. In about six weeks after he had been tied up under the tree, with a good deal of beating, and rubbing of his joints with oil, he was made to stand and walk upon his legs like other human beings. He was never heard to utter more than one articulate sound, and that was “Aboodeea,” the name of the little daughter of the Cashmeer mimic, who had treated him with kindness, and for whom he had shown some kind of attachment. In about four months he began to understand and obey signs. He was by them made to prepare the hookah, put lighted charcoal upon the tobacco, and bring it to Janoo, or present it to whomsoever he pointed out.
[* Transcriber’s note–‘six weeks’ was printed as ‘six months’, but is corrected by the author, in Volume ii, in a P.S. to his letter, dated 20th November, 1852, to Sir James Weir Hogg.]
One night while the boy was lying under the tree, near Janoo, Janoo saw two wolves come up stealthily, and smell at the boy. They then touched him, and he got up; and, instead of being frightened, the boy put his hands upon their heads, and they began to play with him. They capered around him, and he threw straw and leaves at them. Janoo tried to drive them off but he could not, and became much alarmed; and he called out to the sentry over the guns, Meer Akbur Allee, and told him that the wolves were going to eat the boy. He replied, “Come away and leave him, or they will eat you also;” but when he saw them begin to play together, his fears subsided and he kept quiet. Gaining confidence by degrees, he drove them away; but, after going a little distance, they returned, and began to play again with the boy. At last he succeeded in driving them off altogether. The night after three wolves came, and the boy and they played together. A few nights after four wolves came, but at no time did more than four come. They came four or five times, and Janoo had no longer any fear of them; and he thinks that the first two that came must have been the two cubs with which the boy was first found, and that they were prevented from seizing him by recognising the smell. They licked his face with their tongues as he put his hands on their heads.
Soon after his master, Sanaollah, returned to Lucknow, and threatened Janoo to turn him out of his service unless he let go the boy. He persisted in taking the boy with him, and his master relented. He had a string tied to his arm, and led him along by it, and put a bundle of clothes on his head. As they passed a jungle the boy would throw down the bundle and try to run into the jungle, but on being beaten, he would put up his hands in supplication, take up the bundle and go on; but he seemed soon to forget the beating, and did the same thing at almost every jungle they came through. By degrees he became quite docile. Janoo was one day, about three months after their return to Lucknow, sent away by his master for a day or two on some business, and before his return the boy had ran off, and he could never find him again. About two months after the boy had gone, a woman, of the weaver caste, came with a letter from a relation of the Rajah, Hurdut Sing, to Sanaollah, stating that she resided in the village of Chureyrakotra, on his estate, and had had her son, then about four years of age, taken from her, about five or six years before, by a wolf; and, from the description which she gave of him, he, the Rajah’s relation, thought he must be the boy whom his servant, Janoo, took away with him. She said that her boy had two marks upon him, one on the chest of a boil, and one of something else on the forehead; and as these marks corresponded precisely with those found upon the boy, neither she nor they had any doubt that he was her lost son. She remained for four months with the merchant Sanaollah, and Janoo, his kidmutghur, at Lucknow; but the boy could not be found, and she returned home, praying that information might be sent to her should he be discovered. Sanaollah, Janoo, and Ramzan Khan, are still at Lucknow, and before me have all three declared all the circumstances here stated to be strictly true. The boy was altogether about five months with Sanaollah and his servants, from the time they got him; and he had been taken about four months and a half before. The wolf must have had several litters of whelps during the six or seven years that the boy was with her. Janoo further adds, that he, after a month or two, ventured to try a waist-band upon the boy, but he often tore it off in distress or anger. After he had become reconciled to this, in about two months, he ventured to put on upon him a vest and a pair of trousers. He had great difficulty in making him keep them on, with threats and occasional beatings. He would disencumber himself of them whenever left alone, but put them on again in alarm when discovered; and to the last often injured or destroyed them by rubbing them against trees or posts, like a beast, when any part of his body itched. This habit he could never break him of.
Rajah Hurdut Sewae, who is now in Lucknow on business, tells me (28th January, 1851) that the sowar brought the boy to Bondee, and there kept him for a short time, as long as he remained; but as soon as he went off, the boy came to him, and he kept him for three months; that he appeared to him to be twelve years of age; that he ate raw meat as long as he remained with him, with evident pleasure, whenever it was offered to him, but would not touch the bread and other dressed food put before him; that he went on all fours, but would stand and go awkwardly on two legs when threatened or made to do so; that he seemed to understand signs, but could not understand or utter a word; that he seldom attempted to bite any one, nor did he tear the clothes that he put upon him; that Sanaollah, the Cashmeeree merchant, used at that time to come to him often with shawls for sale, and must have taken the boy away with him, but he does not recollect having given the boy to him. He says that he never himself sent any letter to Sanaollah with the mother of the boy, but his brother or some other relation of his may have written one for her.
It is remarkable that I can discover no well-established instance of a man who had been nurtured in a wolf’s den having been found. There is, at Lucknow, an old man who was found in the Oude Tarae, when a lad, by the hut of an old hermit who had died. He is supposed to have been taken from wolves by this old hermit. The trooper who found him brought him to the King some forty years ago, and he has been ever since supported by the King comfortably. He is still called the “wild man of the woods.” He was one day sent to me at my request, and I talked with him. His features indicate him to be of the Tharoo tribe, who are found only in that forest. He is very inoffensive, but speaks little, and that little imperfectly; and he is still impatient of intercourse with his fellow-men, particularly with such as are disposed to tease him with questions. I asked him whether he had any recollection of having been with wolves. He said “the wolf died long before the hermit;” but he seemed to recollect nothing more, and there is no mark on his knees or elbows to indicate that he ever went on all fours. That he was found as a wild boy in the forest there can be no doubt; but I do not feel at all sure that he ever lived with wolves. From what I have seen and heard I should doubt whether any boy who had been many years with wolves, up to the age of eight or ten, could ever attain the average intellect of man. I have never heard of a man who had been spared and nurtured by wolves having been found; and, as many boys have been recovered from wolves after they had been many years with them, we must conclude that after a time they either die from living exclusively on animal food, before they attain the age of manhood, or are destroyed by the wolves themselves, or other beasts of prey, in the jungles, from whom they are unable to escape, like the wolves themselves, from want of the same speed. The wolf or wolves, by whom they have been spared and nurtured, must die or be destroyed in a few years, and other wolves may kill and eat them. Tigers generally feed for two or three days upon the bullock they kill, and remain all the time, when not feeding, concealed in the vicinity. If they found such a boy feeding upon their prey they would certainly kill him, and most likely eat him. If such a boy passed such a dead body he would certainly feed upon it. Tigers often spring upon and kill dogs and wolves thus found feeding upon their prey. They could more ’easily kill boys, and would certainly be more disposed to eat them. If the dead body of such a boy were found anywhere in the jungles, or on the plains, it would excite little interest, where dead bodies are so often found exposed, and so soon eaten by dogs, jackals, vultures, &c., and would scarcely ever lead to any particular inquiry.
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