Rambles and Recollections of an Indian Official by William Sleeman

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10. This narrative, notwithstanding all the minute details with which
it is garnished, cannot be accepted as sober history; and I do not
know from what source the author obtained it. 'This lady, whose
maiden name was Muhr-un-Nisa, or "Seal of Womankind", had attracted
the admiration of Jahangir when he was crown prince, but Akbar
married her to a young Turkoman and settled them in Bengal. After
Jahangir's accession the husband was killed in a quarrel with the
governor of the province, and the wife was placed under the care of
one of Akbar's widows, with whom she remained four years, and then
married Jahangir (1610). There is nothing to justify a suspicion of
the Emperor's connivance in the husband's death; nor do Indian
historians corroborate the invidious criticisms of "Normal" by
European travellers; on the contrary, they portray Nur-Mahall as a
pattern of all the virtues, and worthy to wield the supreme influence
which she obtained over the Emperor.' (Lane-Poole, _The History of
the Moghul Emperors of Hindustan illustrated by their Coins_, p.
xix.) The authorities on which this statement is founded are given in
_E. & D._, vol. vi, pp. 397 and 402-5. See also Blochmann, _Ain_,
vol. i, pp. 496, 524. Details of such stories in the various
chronicles always differ. Jahangir openly rejoiced in the death of
Sher Afgan, and it is by no means clear that he was not responsible
for the event. He was not troubled by nice scruples. The first
element in the lady's personal name seems to be _Mihr_, 'sun', not
_Muhr_, 'seal'. The words are identical in ordinary Persian writing.

11. The long interval which elapsed between Sher Afgan's death and
the marriage with the Emperor is a fact opposed to the assumptions
which the author adopts that Nur Mahall was 'nothing loth', and that
the death of her first husband was contrived by Jahangir.

12. Quaint Sir Thomas Herbert thus expresses himself: 'Meher Metzia
[Mihr-un-nisa] is forthwith espoused with all solemnity to the King,
and her name changed to Nourshabegem [Nur Shah Begam], or Nor-mahal,
i.e., Light or Glory of the Court; her Father upon this affinity
advanced upon all the other Umbraes ['umara', or nobles]; her
brother, Assaph-Chan [Asaf Khan], and most of her kindred, smiled
upon, with the addition of Honours, Wealth, and Command. And in this
Sun-shine of content Jangheer [Jahangir] spends some years with his
lovely Queen, without regarding ought save Cupid's Currantoes'
(_Travels_, ed. 1677, p. 74). Authority exists for the title Asaf
Jah, as well as for the variant Asaf Khan.

Coins were struck in the joint names of Jahangir and his consort,
bearing a rhyming Persian couplet to the effect that

'By command of Jahangir the King, from the name of Nur Jahan his
Queen, gold gained a hundred beauties.'

The Queen's administration is censured by some of the European
travellers who visited India during Jahangir's reign as being venal
and inefficient, and she is accused of cruelty and perfidy. She died
on the 18th December (N.S.), 1645, and was buried by the aide of
Jahangir in his mausoleum at Lahore. At her death she was in her 72nd
year, according to the Muhammadan lunar reckoning, and would thus
have been thirty-four solar years of age when the Emperor married her
in 1610 (Beale: Blochmann).

13. According to Sir Thomas Herbert (_Travels_, ed. 1677, p. 99),
'Queen Normahal and her three daughters' were confined by order of
Shah Jahan in A.D. 1628.

14. Son of Bhagwan Das, of Amber or Jaipur, in Rajputana, and one of
the greatest of Akbar's officers.

15. Also known as Aziz Kokah, a foster-brother of Akbar.

16. This story may or may not be true; but a charge of this kind is
absolutely incapable of proof, and would be readily generated in the
palace atmosphere.

17. According to a contemporary authority, the blinding was only
partial, and the prince recovered the sight of one eye (_E. & D._ vi.
448). With regard to such details the discrepancies in the histories
are innumerable.

18. A.H. 1031 = A.D. 1621-2. The charge seems to be true.

19. A.H. 1036 = A.D. 1626-7.

20. This is a blunder. Jahangir's fourth son was named Jahandar, and
died in or about A.H. 1035 = A.D. 1625-6. Daniyal was third son of
Akbar, and younger brother of Jahangir. He died from _delirium
tremens_ in A.D. 1605, a few months before the death of Akbar,

21. Jahangir died, when returning from Kashmir, on the 8th November,
A.D. 1627 (N.S.), and was buried near Lahore. The fight with Shahryar
took place at Lahore.

22. Bulaki assumed the title of Dawar Baksh during his short reign,
and struck coins at Lahore. He 'vanished--probably to Persia--after
his three months' pretence of royalty; and on 25th January, 1628 (18
Jumada I, 1037), Shah-Jahan ascended at Agra the throne which he was
to occupy for thirty years'. Shahryar was known by the nickname of
_Na-shudani_, or 'Good-for-nothing' (Lane-Poole, _The History of the
Moghul Emperors of Hindustan, illustrated by their Coins_, p. xxiii).
The two nephews of Jahangir, the sons of Daniyal, slaughtered at this
time, had been, according to Herbert, baptized as Christians
(_Travels_, ed. 1677, pp. 74, 98). There are great discrepancies in
the accounts given by various authorities concerning the fate of
Bulaki and the other victims of Shah Jahan. A dissuasion of the
evidence would take too much apace, and must be inconclusive, the
fact being that the proceedings were secret, and pains were taken to
conceal the truth.

23. The dates of birth are, in Old Style:-Dara Shikoh, March 20,
1615; Sultan Shuja, May 12, 1616; Aurangzeb, October 10, 1619; and
Murad Baksh, not stated (Beale).

24. _Ante_, Chapter 2, text following [8]. The quotation is from Part
III, chap. 19, p. 35 of _The Travels of Monsieur de Thevenot, now
made English. London, Printed in the year MDCLXXXVII_. The author, in
his quotation, omits between 'that' and 'The Dutch' the clause 'This
indeed is certain that there are few Heathens and Parsis in respect
of Mahometans there, and these surpass all the other sects in power
as they do in number.'

25. During the reign of Akbar, many Christians, Portuguese, English,
and others, visited Agra, and a considerable number settled there. A
Roman Catholic church was built, the steeple of which was pulled down
by Shah Jahan. The oldest inscriptions in the cemetery adjoining the
Roman Catholic cathedral are in the Armenian character. Three
Catholic cemeteries exist at or near Agra, namely

(l) the old Catholic graveyard at the village of Lashkarpur, dating
from the time of Akbar, who made a grant of the site about A.D. 1600.
This cemetery includes the Martyrs' Chapel, also known as the Chapel
of Father Santus (Santucci), which was erected in memory of Khoja
Mortenepus, an Armenian merchant, whose epitaph is dated 1611. The
next oldest tombstone, that of Father Emmanuel d' Anhaya, who died in
prison, bears the date August, 1633. Father Joseph de Castro, who
died at Lahore, on December 15, 1646, lies in the same building.

(2) A cemetery in Padritola, the native Christian ward of the city
behind the old cathedral. Father Tieffenthaler is buried there.

(3) A cemetery in an unnamed village, granted by Jahangir, and
situated a mile north of Lashkarpur. An unpublished letter in the
British Museum shows that Jahangir closed the churches in his
dominions in 1615. Notwithstanding, the College at Agra was founded
about 1617 by an Armenian who is known by his title Mirza Zul-
Qarnain. The acute persecution by Shah Jahan occurred in 1631.

The artillery men in the Mogul service were not all European
Christians. Turks from the Ottoman Empire were freely employed. (See
_Ep. Ind._, ii, 132 note.)

The facts concerning the early history of Christianity in Northern
India have been imperfectly studied. In this note I have used chiefly
a pamphlet by Father H. Hosten, S. J., entitled _Jesuit Missionaries
in Northern India, &c._ (Catholic Orphan Press, Calcutta, 1907), and
the confused little book by Fanthome, _Reminiscences of Agra_ (2nd
ed., Thacker, Spink & Co., Calcutta, 1895). The Jesuit and Capuchin
Fathers are working at the subject and hope to elucidate it. From the
_A.S. Progress Rep. N. Circle, Muhammadan Monuments_, for 1911-12, p.
21, it appears that arrangements for the proper maintenance of the
Old Catholic cemetery are in hand.

The author's observations concerning the official relations of
Christianity in India do not apply at all to the very ancient
churches of the South (See _E.H.I._, 3rd ed., 1914, App. M, pp. 245-
7). Even in the north, the modern missionary operations may claim to
be 'independent of office'.

CHAPTER 53

Father Gregory's Notion of the Impediments to Conversion in India--
Inability of Europeans to speak Eastern Languages.

Father Gregory, the Roman Catholic priest, dined with us one evening,
and Major Godby took occasion to ask him at table, 'What progress our
religion was making among the people?'

'Progress!' said he; 'why, what progress can we ever hope to make
among a people who, the moment we begin to talk to them about the
miracles performed by Christ, begin to tell us of those infinitely
more wonderful performed by Krishna, who lifted a mountain upon his
little finger, as an umbrella, to defend his shepherdesses at
Govardhan from a shower of rain.[1] The Hindoos never doubt any part
of the miracles and prophecies of our scripture--they believe every
word of them; and the only thing that surprises them is that they
should be so much less wonderful than those of their own scriptures,
in which also they implicitly believe. Men who believe that the
histories of the wars and amours of Ram and Krishna, two of the
incarnations of Vishnu, were written some fifty thousand years before
these wars and amours actually took place upon the earth, would of
course easily believe in the fulfilment of any prophecy that might be
related to them out of any other book;[2] and, as to miracles, there
is absolutely nothing too extraordinary for their belief. If a
Christian of respectability were to tell a Hindoo that, to satisfy
some scruples of the Corinthians, St. Paul had brought the sun and
moon down upon the earth, and made them rebound off again into their
places, like tennis balls, without the slightest injury to any of the
three planets [_sic_], I do not think he would feel the slightest
doubt of the truth of it; but he would immediately be put in mind of
something still more extraordinary that Krishna did to amuse the
milkmaids, or to satisfy some sceptics of his day, and relate it with
all the _naivete_ imaginable.

I saw at Agra Mirza Kam Baksh, the eldest son of Sulaiman Shikoh, the
eldest son of the brother of the present Emperor. He had spent a
season with us at Jubbulpore, while prosecuting his claim to an
estate against the Raja of Riwa. The Emperor, Shah Alam, in his
flight before our troops from Bengal (1762), struck off the high road
to Delhi at Mirzapore, and came down to Riwa, where he found an
asylum during the season of the rains with the Riwa Raja, who
assigned for his residence the village of Makanpur.[3] His wife, the
Empress, was here delivered of a son, the present Emperor, of
Hindustan, Akbar Shah;[4] and the Raja assigned to him and his heirs
for ever the fee simple of this village. As the members of this
family increased in geometrical ratio, under the new system, which
gave them plenty to eat with nothing to do, the Emperor had of late
been obliged to hunt round for little additions to his income; and in
his search he found that Makanpur gave name to a 'pargana', or little
district, of which it was the capital, and that a good deal of
merchandize passed through this district, and paid heavy dues to the
Raja. Nothing, he thought, would be lost by trying to get the whole
district instead of the village; and for this purpose he sent down
Kam Baksh, the ablest man of the whole family, to urge and prosecute
his claim; but the Raja was a close, shrewd man, and not to be done
out of his revenue, and Kam Baksh was obliged to return minus some
thousand rupees, which he had spent in attempting to keep up
appearances.

The best of us Europeans feel our deficiencies in conversation with
Muhammadans of high rank and education, when we are called upon to
talk upon subjects beyond the everyday occurrences of life. A
Muhammadan gentleman of education is tolerably acquainted with
astronomy, as it was taught by Ptolemy; with the logic and ethics of
Aristotle and Plato; with the works of Hippocrates and Galen, through
those of Avicenna, or, as they call him, Abu-Alisina;[5] and he is
very capable of talking upon all subjects of philosophy, literature,
science, and the arts, and very much inclined to do so; and of
understanding the nature of the improvements that have been made in
them in modern times. But, however capable we may feel of discussing
these subjects, or explaining these improvements in our own language,
we all feel ourselves very much at a loss when we attempt to do it in
theirs. Perhaps few Europeans have mixed and conversed more freely
with all classes than I have; and yet I feel myself sadly deficient
when I enter, as I often do, into discussions with Muhammadan
gentlemen of education upon the subject of the character of the
governments and institutions of different countries--their effects
upon the character and condition of the people; the arts and the
sciences; the faculties and operations of the human mind; and the
thousand other things which are subjects of everyday conversation
among educated and thinking; men in our country. I feel that they
could understand me quite well if I could find words for my ideas;
but these I cannot find, though their languages abound in them, nor
have I ever met the European gentleman who could. East Indians
can;[6] but they commonly want the ideas as much as we want the
language. The chief cause of this deficiency is the want of
sufficient intercourse with men in whose presence we should be
ashamed to appear ignorant--this is the great secret, and all should
know and acknowledge it.

We are not ashamed to convey our orders to our native servants in a
barbarous language. Military officers seldom speak to their 'sipahis'
(sepoys) and native officers, about anything but arms, accoutrements,
and drill; or to other natives about anything but the sports of the
field; and, as long as they are understood, they care not one straw
in what language they express themselves. The conversation of the
civil servants with their native officers takes sometimes a wider
range; but they have the same philosophical indifference as to the
language in which they attempt to convey their ideas; and I have
heard some of our highest diplomatic characters talking,[7] without
the slightest feeling of shame or embarrassment, to native princes on
the most ordinary subjects of everyday interest in a language which
no human being but themselves could understand. We shall remain the
same till some change of system inspire us with stronger motives to
please and conciliate the educated classes of the native community.
They may be reconciled, but they can never be charmed out of their
prejudices or the errors of their preconceived opinions by such
language as the European gentlemen are now in the habit of speaking
to them.[8] We must learn their language better, or we must teach
them our own, before we can venture to introduce among them those
free institutions which would oblige us to meet them on equal terms
at the bar, on the bench, and in the senate.[9] Perhaps two of the
best secular works that were ever written upon the facilities and
operations of the human mind, and the duties of men in their
relations with each other, are those of Imam-ud-din Ghazzali, and
Nasir-ud-din of Tus.[10] Their idol was Plato, but their works are of
a more practical character than his, and less dry than those of
Aristotle.

I may here mention the following, among many instances that occur to
me, of the amusing mistakes into which Europeans are liable to fall
in their conversation with natives.

Mr. J. W------n, of the Bengal Civil Service, commonly known by the
name of Beau W------n,[11] was the Honourable Company's opium agent
at Patna, when I arrived at Dinapore to join my regiment in 1810.[12]
He had a splendid house, and lived in excellent style; and was never
so happy as when he had a dozen young men from the Dinapore
cantonments living with him. He complained that year, as I was told,
that he had not been able to save more than one hundred thousand
rupees that season out of his salary and commission upon the opium,
purchased by the Government from the cultivators.[13] The members of
the civil service, in the other branches of public service, were all
anxious to have it believed by their countrymen that they were well
acquainted with their duties, and able and willing to perform them;
but the Honourable Company's commercial agents were, on the contrary,
generally anxious to make their countrymen believe that they neither
knew nor cared anything about their duties, because they were ashamed
of them. They were sinecure posts for the drones of the service, or
for those who had great interest and no capacity.[14] Had any young
man made it appear that he really thought W------n knew or cared
anything about his duties, he would certainly never have been invited
to his house again; and if any one knew, certainly no one seemed to
know that he had any other duty than that of entertaining his guests.

No one ever spoke the native language so badly, because no man had
ever so little intercourse with the natives; and it was, I have been
told, to his ignorance of the native languages that his bosom friend,
Mr. P------st, owed his life on one occasion. W. sat by the sick-bed
of his friend with unwearied attention, for some days and nights,
after the doctors had declared his case entirely hopeless. He
proposed at last to try change of air, and take him on the river
Ganges. The doctors, thinking that he might as well die in his boat
on the river as in his house at Calcutta, consented to his taking him
on board. They got up as far as Hooghly, when P. said that he felt
better and thought he could eat something. What should it be? A
little roasted kid perhaps. The very thing that he was longing for!
W. went out upon the deck to give orders for the kid, that his friend
might not be disturbed by the gruff voice of the old 'khansama'
(butler). P. heard the conversation, however.

'Khansama', said the Beau W., 'you know that my friend Mr. P. is very
ill?'

'Yes, sir.'

'And that he has not eaten anything for a month?'

'A long time for a man to fast, sir.'

'Yes, Khansama, and his stomach is now become very delicate, and
could not stand anything strong.'

'Certainly not, sir.'

'Well, Khansama, then he has taken a fancy to a roasted _mare_'
('madiyan'), meaning a 'halwan', or kid.'[15]

'A roasted mare, sir?'

'Yes, Khansama, a roasted mare, which you must have nicely prepared.'

'What, the whole, sir?'

'Not the whole at one time; but have the whole ready as there is no
knowing what part he may like best.'

The old butter had heard of the Tartars eating their horses when in
robust health, but the idea of a sick man, not able to move in his
bed without assistance, taking a fancy to a roasted mare, quite
staggered him.

'But, sir, I may not be able to get such a thing as a mare at a
moment's notice; and if I get her she will be very dear.'

'Never mind, Khansama, get you the mare, cost what she will; if she
costs a thousand rupees my friend shall have her. He has taken a
fancy to the mare, and the mare he shall have, if she costs a
thousand rupees.'

The butter made his salaam, said he would do his best, and took his
leave, requesting that the boats might be kept at the bank of the
river till he came back.

W. went into his sick friend, who, with great difficulty, managed to
keep his countenance while he complained of the liberties old
servants were in the habit of taking with their masters. 'They think
themselves privileged', said W., 'to conjure up difficulties in the
way of everything that one wants to have done.'

'Yes', said P------st, 'we like to have old and faithful servants
about us, particularly when we are sick; but they are apt to take
liberties, which new ones will not.'

In about two hours the butler's approach was announced from the deck,
and W. walked out to scold him for his delay. The old gentleman was
coming down over the bank, followed by about eight men bearing the
four quarters of an old mare. The butler was very fat; and the proud
consciousness of having done his duty, and met his master's wishes in
a very difficult and important point, had made him a perfect
Falstaff. He marshalled his men in front of the cooking-boat, and
then came towards his master, who for some time stood amazed, and
unable to speak. At last he roared out, 'And what the devil have you
here?'

'Why, the _mare_ that the sick gentleman took a fancy for; and dear
enough she has cost me; not a farthing less than two hundred rupees
would the fellow take for his mare.'

P------st could contain himself no longer; he burst into an
immoderate fit of laughter, during which the abscess in his liver
burst into the intestines, and he felt himself relieved, as if by
enchantment. The mistake was rectified--he got his kid; and in ten
days he was taken back to Calcutta a sound man, to the great
astonishment of all the doctors.

During the first campaign against Nepal, in 1815, Colonel, now Major-
General, O.H., who commanded the------Regiment, N. I.,[16] had to
march with his regiment through the town of Darbhanga, the capital of
the Raja, who came to pay his respects to him. He brought a number of
presents, but the colonel, a high-minded, amiable man, never took
anything himself, nor suffered any person in his camp to do so, in
the districts they passed through without paying for it. He politely
declined to take any of the presents; but said that he 'had heard
that Darbhanga produced _crows_ ("kauwa"), and should be glad to get
some of them if the Raja could spare them,'--meaning coffee, or
'kahwa'.

The Raja stared, and said that certainly they had abundance of crows
in Darbhanga; but he thought they were equally abundant in all parts
of India.

'Quite the contrary, Raja Sahib, I assure you,' said the colonel;
'there is not such a thing as a crow to be found in any part of the
Company's dominions that I have seen, and I have been all over them.'

'Very strange!' said the Raja, turning round to his followers.

'Yes,' replied they,' it is very strange, Raja Sahib; but such is
your 'ikbal' (good fortune), that everything thrives under it; and,
if the colonel should wish to have a few crows, we could easily
collect them for him.'

'If', said the colonel, greatly delighted, 'you could provide us with
a few of these crows, we should really feel very much obliged to you;
for we have a long and cold campaign before us among the bleak hills
of Nepal; and we are all fond of crows.'

'Indeed,' returned the Raja, 'I shall be happy to send you as many as
you wish.' ('Much' and 'many' are expressed by the same term.)

'Then we should be glad to have two or three bags full, if it would
not be robbing you.'

'Not in the least,' said the Raja; 'I will go home and order them to
be collected immediately.'

In the evening, as the officers, with the colonel at their head, were
sitting down to dinner, a man came up to announce the Raja's present.
Three fine large bags were brought in, and the colonel requested that
one might be opened immediately. It was opened accordingly, and the
mess butler ('khansaman') drew out by the legs a fine old crow. The
colonel immediately saw the mistake, and laughed as heartily as the
rest at the result. A polite message was sent to the Raja, requesting
that he would excuse his having made it--for he had had half a dozen
men out shooting crows all day with their matchlocks. Few Europeans
spoke the language better than General ------, and I do not believe
that one European in a thousand, at this very moment, makes any
difference, or knows any difference, in the sound of the two terms.

Kam Baksh had one sister married to the King of Oudh, and another to
Mirza Salim, the younger son of the Emperor. Mirza Salim and his wife
could not agree, and a separation took place, and she went to reside
with her sister, the Queen of Oudh. The King saw her frequently; and,
finding her more beautiful than his wife, he demanded her also in
marriage from her father, who resided at Lucknow, the capital of
Oudh, on a pension of five thousand rupees a month from the King. He
would not consent, and demanded his daughter; the King, finding her
willing to share his bed and board with her sister, would not give
her up.[17] The father got his old friend, Colonel Gardiner, who had
married a Muhammadan woman of rank, to come down and plead his cause.
The King gave up the young woman, but at the same time stopped the
father's pension, and ordered him and all his family out of his
dominions. He set out with Colonel Gardiner and his daughter, on his
road to Delhi, through Kasganj, the residence of the colonel, who was
one day recommending the prince to seek consolation for the loss of
his pension in the proud recollection of having saved the honour of
the _house of Tamerlane_, when news was brought to them that the
daughter had run off from camp with his (Colonel Gardiner's) son
James, who had accompanied him to Lucknow. The prince and the colonel
mounted their horses, and rode after him; but they were so much
heavier and older than the young ones, that they soon gave up the
chase in despair. Sulaiman Shikoh insisted upon the colonel
immediately fighting him, after the fashion of the English, with
swords or pistols, but was soon persuaded that the honour of the
house of Timur would be much better preserved by allowing the
offending parties to marry ![18] The King of Oudh was delighted to
find that the old man had been so punished; and the Queen no less so
to find herself so suddenly and unexpectedly relieved from all dread
of her sister's return. All parties wrote to my friend Kam Baksh, who
was then at Jubbulpore;[19] and he came off with their letters to me
to ask whether I thought the incident might not be turned to account
in getting the pension for his father restored.[20]