http://onlinebooks.library.upenn.edu/webbin/book/lookupid?key=olbp44351
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Lady of the Raj
Parkes's exuberant journals trace her journey from prim memsahib to sitar-playing Indophile and provide one of the most enjoyable accounts of colonial India.
The Guardian, Saturday 9 June 2007
I first heard about the great early Victorian travel writer Fanny Parkes when I was given a first edition of her book, Wanderings of a Pilgrim in Search of the Picturesque, by an old lady who in many ways resembled Parkes, and whose life had been greatly influenced by her writings.
Iris Portal was in her late 70s when I met her, a feisty yet remarkably liberal and intelligent relic of the Raj. She was the younger sister of the politician Rab Butler and had grown up in an academic family in Cambridge, where her father was the master of a college. But in her teens, to her family's horror, Iris had fallen in love with a dashing polo-playing cavalry officer, and suddenly found herself transported from the bookish banks of the Cam to a bleak military cantonment in central India. There the commanding officer's wife soon warned her not to let it be known that she wrote poetry, "as it might give the wrong impression".
Iris was, however, far too intelligent and independent-minded a woman to let the CO's wife get in her way, and she soon took to riding out to the bazaars and ruins that surrounded the army camps where she was based, learning the languages and exploring the history, a trajectory that eventually turned her into the distinguished biographer of, among others, the British governor general Lord Wellesley.
It was as a young army wife that Iris discovered the writings of Fanny Parkes, and immediately recognised a kindred spirit. A century before her, in the early 1830s, Parkes had also become a bored young wife in India, in her case married to an official in Allahabad whose job was to make ice. Like Iris, she ran away from the stiff officialdom of the Raj and immersed herself in the country. Soon Parkes was exploring the length and breadth of the country, and, on returning to England, she wrote possibly the most enjoyable and exuberant travel book to come out of the south Asia of the East India Company.
It was Parkes's curiosity and enthusiasm that distinguished her approach to India, and her journal traces her journey from prim memsahib, married to a minor civil servant of the Raj, to eccentric sitar-playing Indophile, critical of British rule and passionate in her appreciation of Indian culture. All this in time provided inspiration and a template for Iris's own life.
I had known Iris for a decade or so when she sent a postcard asking me to come and see her in Cambridge, as she had something for me. By this stage of her life, Iris was a widow in her early 80s. She had given up her house in Norfolk and had moved to a sheltered housing complex off the M11 in Cambridge, an institution she hated and found far more constricting than cantonment life. She had begun to prepare for her final journey, and was distributing her last things to her friends. She wanted me to have her copy of Parkes, she said, as she thought that I, like her, would find in it a kindred spirit. Maybe, she suggested, I would even like to try to get the book back in print, as unlike her more famous contemporary Emily Eden, Parkes had never had another edition.
That night, I opened up the two heavy volumes, filled with the author's own illustrations, and immediately fell under Parkes's spell. While Eden was witty and intelligent but waspish and conceited, Parkes was an enthusiast and an eccentric with a love of India that is imprinted on almost every page of her book. From her first arrival in Calcutta, she wrote how "I was charmed by the climate; the weather was delicious; and I thought India a most delightful country ... could I have gathered around me the dear ones I had left in England, my happiness would have been complete."
That initial intuition was reinforced the longer she stayed in south Asia. In the 24 years she lived in India, the country never ceased to surprise, intrigue and delight her, and she was never happier than when off on another journey, exploring new parts of the country: "Oh the pleasure," she wrote, "of vagabondising in India!"
Partly it was the beauty of the place that hypnotised her. She found Indian men "remarkably handsome", while her response to the landscape was no less admiring: "The evenings are cool and refreshing ... The foliage of the trees, so luxuriously beautiful and so novel, is to me a source of constant admiration." But it was not just the way the place looked. The longer she stayed in India, the more Parkes fell in love with the culture, history, flowers, trees, religions, languages and peoples of the country, and the more she felt possessed by an overpowering urge to pack her bags and set off to explore: "How much there is to delight the eye in this bright, this beautiful world! Roaming about with a good tent and a good Arab [horse], one might be happy for ever in India."
It is this joy, excitement and even liberation in travel that Parkes managed to communicate so well, in striking contrast to the haughty ennui of so many of her male contemporaries. In the same way, it is her insatiable curiosity and love of the country that immediately engages readers and carries them with her as she bumbles her way across India on her own. She is wilfully dismissive of the dangers of dacoits or thugs or tigers, as she turns her hand to learning the sitar, enquiring about the intricacies of Hindu mythology, trying opium and collecting Hindu statuary, butterflies, zoological specimens preserved in spirits, Indian aphorisms and Persian proverbs - all with unstoppable glee.
Even when she disliked a part- icular Indian custom, she often found herself engaged intellectually. Watching the Churuk Puja, or "hook swinging", when pious Hindus attached hooks into the flesh of their backs and were swung about on ropes hanging from great cranes for the amusement of the crowds below, she wrote: "I was much disgusted, but greatly interested."
The longer she stayed in India, the more Parkes became slowly Indianised. The professional memsahib, herself the daughter of a colonial official (Captain William Archer), who came to India to watch over her colonial administrator husband, was gradually transformed into a fluent Urdu speaker, who spent less and less of her time at her husband's mofussil (up-country) posting, and more and more of her time travelling around to visit her Indian friends. Aesthetically she grew slowly to prefer Indian dress to that of the English. At one point, watching celebrations at the Taj Mahal, she noted how "crowds of gaily dressed and most picturesque natives were seen in all directions passing through the avenue of fine trees, and by the side of the fountains to the tomb: they added great beauty to the scene, whilst the eye of taste turned away pained and annoyed by the vile round hats and stiff attire of the European gentlemen, and the equally ugly bonnets and stiff and graceless dresses of the English ladies."
Gradually, over the years she lived in India, Parkes's views began to change. Having assumed at first that good taste was the defining characteristic of European civilisation and especially that of her own people, she found her assumptions being challenged by what she came to regard as the philistinism of the English in India, and by the beauty of so much of the country.
At the end of her travels, Parkes looked forward to seeing her family in England. Yet when she finally set foot on English soil again, her return was a moment not for rejoicing, but for depression and disappointment: "We arrived at 6am. May flowers and sunshine were in my thoughts. But instead [...] it was bitterly cold walking up from the boat - rain, wind and sleet, mingled together, beat on my face. Everything on landing was so wretchedly mean, especially the houses, which are built of slate stone; it was cold and gloomy . . . I felt a little disgusted."
When she arrived home, her mother barely recognised her. It was as if the current of colonisation had somehow been reversed: the coloniser had been colonised. India had changed and transformed Fanny Parkes. She could never be the same again.
In due course, I did manage to persuade a friend to produce a new edition of Parkes's Wanderings of a Pilgrim in Search of the Picturesque, and a few years ago I spent a very happy three weeks rereading her book and editing down her two huge volumes into one manageable paperback containing all my favourite passages - Begums, Thugs and White Mughals: The Journals of Fanny Parkes (Eland). Sadly, Iris died shortly before the book appeared, and I was never able to tell her that I had kept my promise.
Parkes is an important writer because she acts as a witness to a forgotten moment of British-Indian hybridity, and shows that colonial travel writing need not be an aggressive act of orientalist appropriation - not "gathering colonial knowledge", as Edward Said and his followers would have us believe, but instead an act of understanding. As Colin Thubron has pointed out, it is ridiculously simplistic to see all attempts at studying, observing and empathising with another culture necessarily "as an act of domination - rather than of respect or even catharsis ... If even the attempt to understand is seen as aggression or appropriation, then all human contact declines into paranoia."
When reading travel accounts by early visitors to the east, such as Parkes, we should certainly try to resist the temptation, felt by so many historians, to project back on to it the stereotypes of late Victorian and Edwardian behaviour and attitudes with which we are so familiar. These attitudes were clearly entirely at odds with the actual fears and hopes, anxieties and aspirations of the early travellers in India, who did not look at south Asia with the hauteur of the high colonial, as much as with the pleasure and surprise of the inquisitive wanderer, in search, as Parkes would have it, of the picturesque.
· Radio 3's The Essay will be celebrating iconic British travel writing from June 11-14
The Last Bungalow: Writings on Allahabad
The Last Bungalow: Writings on Allahabad
Edited by Arvind Krishna Mehrotra
Penguin India
www.penguinbooksindia.com
ISBN 0-14-310118-8
331pp. Indian Rs395
Compiled and edited by poet and litterateur Arvind Krishna Mehrotra, The Last Bungalow: Writings on Allahabad is a collection of writings on Allahabad from the Chinese traveller, Hsiuan Tsiang in the 7th century down to more recent times. Among those whose writings appear in the anthology are Ghalib, Mark Twain, Rudyard Kipling, Jawaharlal Nehru and his niece, Nayantara Sahgal.
The book drips with nostalgia as evoked in the Introduction by the descendants of the Parsis and Bengalis, who recall the bittersweet memories of the bygone days. The excerpts from travel narratives, letters, diaries, books and some essays written for the occasion, provide varied accounts of the city and its inhabitants over the centuries.
Situated at the confluence of the three holy rivers Ganga, Yamuna and the invisible Sarasvati, Allahabad (pronounced and written in the vernaculars as Ilahabad) has been one of the important centres of Hindu pilgrimage from ancient times to this day.
But while its status as a holy place remained constant, its worldly fortunes fluctuated. When Hsiuan Tsiang visited, it was the seat of a Buddhist raja. Emperor Akbar gave it its present name. A Jama Masjid and Khusro Bagh were built later. There was another break when the East India Company built a fort there. But it catapulted into real fame after the Mutiny, when the seat of the North West province was shifted from Agra to Allahabad and Lord Canning was sworn in as the first viceroy.
Soon, many Bengalis and Parsis gravitated to Allahabad to seek their fortune, besides barristers such as Syed Mahmood and Motilal Nehru. Allahabad also became the headquarters of some of the most famous Indian publications, such as the Modern Review, the Probasi (Bengali), the Saraswati (Hindi), and the Pioneer newspaper.
Later Motilal Nehru’s mansion, Anand Bhawan, became famous as a centre of political activity as well as Jawaharlal Nehru’s birthplace.
Fanny Parkes’s ‘Wanderings of a Pilgrim’ is a detailed account of Allahabad in the mid-19th century — the weather, the goats, her garden and house, the great fair, descriptions of the people and the fascinating method of manufacturing ice. The most amusing part of her account, however, is the list of 57 servants and the wages each one was paid, totaling Rs290 a month, all considered indispensable to the comfort of the sahib and his family. As she writes: “We, as quiet people, find these servants necessary.”
The extract from Rudyard Kipling’s autobiography concerns his stint at the Pioneer. But Edmonia Hill’s diary throws more light on his stay at Allahabad and provides a critical appreciation of his writings. “Mr Kipling’s characters as a rule have some foundation in real life,” she says, and goes on to identify characters from some of his works. She also gives the background to his short story ‘Baa, Baa, Black Sheep’.
Both Jawaharlal Nehru and Nayantara Sahgal tell of a privileged upbringing. Sahgal’s account of developing headaches on Sunday nights, to avoid school on Monday, will bring a knowing smile to many faces.
The writings provide glimpses from history and specimens of fine literary prose. There is also a large repertoire of interesting anecdotes, such as Bishop Heber’s description of the Ram Lila, and Fanny Parkes’ reference to how the ‘natives’ pushed cholera back and forth between Allahabad and Lucknow.
Those curious to know what is Kumbh, as well as the origin of the Kumbh Mela that is at the core of Allahabad’s importance, Kama MacLean’s ‘On the modern Kumbh Mela’ will be found most insightful.
Allahabad is now facing another migration that is in sharp contrast to the first that was in the 19th century. The last ushered an era of intellectual profundity; this one has brought material profanity and a sharp decline in its old glory. Pankaj Mishra, who studied there between 1985 and 1988, provides a picture of a university now that is far different from the past; ridden with violence, absenteeism, of students living with “a sense of futility and doom”. Today there is a display of wealth but no refinement. As Meher Dhondy, 75, whispered to her rickshaw-wallah, when a modern Toyota with a neta type owner blocked her gate and would not budge, “Their ill-gotten money can buy these people cars, but no amount of money will buy them good breeding.”
And finally, Palash Krishna Mehrotra’s, ‘Sex and the Small Town’ has some really juicy Hindi expressions which will draw laughter, but at the same time it confirms the anarchy that now reigns in the educational institutions in Allahabad. — S.G. JILANEE
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Transcript of the article in THE PIONEER Newspaper, India - 1936
Sunday, May 17, 1936
FANNY PARKES OF CAWNPORE
“A PILGRIM IN SEARCH OF THE PICTURESQUE”
On April 22, Mr. Frank Mudie the retiring Collector of Cawnpore, unveiled at the “Collector’s House”, a brass tablet commemorating the residence there of Fanny Parkes, whose husband, during the period April 1830 – Feb. 1831, was acting Collector of Customs at Cawnpore.
Few of the present generation have heard of Fanny Parkes and it is interesting to note that after a lapse of over 100 years, it was only last year that the fact that she lived in the “Collector’s House” was brought to light by a Cawnpore resident, A.Grezo, who, reading that fascinating and very scarce book “Wanderings of a Pilgrim in search of the Picturesque” suddenly realized that Fanny Parkes description of her Bungalow applied exactly to the “Collector’s House”.
FACILE PEN
Fanny Parkes was a lady of exceptional personality, cultured, observant and enterprising, who could wield a very facile pen. To her, we owe the best and most fascinating account we possess of Indian life in the early part of the last century. She was the daughter of Major E.C. Archer, A.D.C. to Lord Combermere and may have inherited her literary taste from her father who wrote a book “Tours in Upper India” published in 1833. Fanny Parkes came out to India in 1822 and left the Country finally in 1845. In 1850, her two bulky volumes of the “Wanderings of a Pilgrim in search of the Picturesque” appeared in London.
Douglas Dewar thus describes the lady in his charming book “Bygone days in India”.
“Mrs. Fanny Parkes came out to India in 1822 as the wife of an Indian Civilian going out to India to join the Company’s Service. She resided in the Country for more than 20 years, spending the greater part of that period at Allahabad and Cawnpore. During the whole of her stay in India she kept a journal. Upon this is based her “Wanderings of a Pilgrim in search of the Picturesque”. This consists of two bulky volumes and was published in 1850.
In 1833 she visited Mussoorie. Her book is an Anglo-Indian classic. It contains a great detail more than notes on current events and descriptions of the social life of the English in India. In it there are chapters dealing with thuggee and the Hindu and Muhammadan religions. She discourses on such multifarious subjects as the Gardner family, life in the Zenana and the useful plants of India. Everyone, who reads her book is captivated by it and like Sleeman’s “Rambles and Recollections” it has become a classic”.
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