Confessions of a Thug. Taylor Meadows

your condescension increase, Nuwab," said I; "truly your favour is great on your poor servant, and of which he is utterly unworthy. Nevertheless, he will not fail to make known the fair name and hospitality of Hoosein Yar Jung Buhadoor, wherever his fate may lead him, which is the only return he can make for it."

      "You will prosper, I hope," he replied; "young fellows of your appearance rarely fail to make friends. But here come the Bhyroopeas; let us see what new amusement they have prepared for us; something to laugh at, I doubt not."

      They were three in number; and twisting their faces into comical expressions, so as to cause the whole assembly to burst into a simultaneous fit of laughter, one of them stepped forward and said, that in the country whence he came there was once a Nuwab, a very wise man, who governed his country as no one had done before, and was a lord victorious in war; and that, if the Hoozoor pleased, his slaves were prepared to relate some of his adventures.

      "Go on," said the Nuwab, "we are attending; see that there is nothing indecent, for you are in the presence of the Khanum."

      "Asteferalla!" (God forbid!) cried all, making their salutation towards the screen; "may the favour of the Khanum be upon us, and may Alla give her a long life and posterity to bless her. Inshalla! we shall find favour in her sight, and take away our garments filled with gold."

      They commenced: one of the men, dressed ridiculously as a child, personated the Nuwab. The story begins with his youth, how he is petted in the zenana; and the two others changing their dresses to those of females, one is his mother, the other his nurse. The young Nuwab is pampered, spoiled, becomes unruly, is declared to be possessed by the Shitan; a Moola is called in, and charms and wonderful potions, prepared by the aid of magic, are administered. The great child screams and roars, kicks his mother and nurse out of the assembly, upsets all about him; and the confusion and noise created by all this, especially among the Tuwaifs, made a scene of fun at which we all laughed heartily. In an incredibly short time the men again made their appearance, and the second act began. The child had grown up to be a youth, and to be fiery and uncontrollable. Women, wine, horses, and arms are his enjoyments; reckless of everything, he plunges into dissipation, sets his parents at defiance, runs into debt, is surrounded by sharpers and parasites, who despoil him of all he possesses; and he had given himself up to harlots and debauchery; and this ends the second part. His father dies—he is now Nuwab; he is the head of a proud house, has men and soldiers at his command, and his territory to manage. He forthwith kicks out his former companions, discards every one he had formerly had near him, good and bad together, gives himself up to a new set of rogues who had preyed upon his father—men with hoary beards, only the greater adepts in villany. He has a quarrel with a neighbouring noble, and the two prepare for war.

      The troops are described—how they eat mountains and drink rivers; and the Nuwab himself as going forth like a bridegroom to meet his bride, like the lightning from the thunder-cloud, or river over-running its bounds—terrible, irresistible, before whose glance men quail as before a lion! His horse and arms—the former large of carcass, small of limb, feet large and broad, fleet as the antelope, courageous as the panther. Of the arms, the sword which, wielded by his father, had cut through a buffalo's skin and divided the thickest quilting. He goes forth, and the fight commences; the horses charge, and the Nuwab and his enemy meet (each is mounted on the back of a man). They fight; sword after sword (made of wood) is splintered. One of the horses is killed—it is the Nuwab's! He too is killed! he is at the mercy of his foe! No, he is up again; the fight is renewed; it is long doubtful; fresh weapons are given by attendants; at last he is victorious. Alla Akbar! the victory is won, the enemy is routed.

      Then follows the torture of the prisoners, the rifling of the zenana. There is one slave beautiful, small, delicate in form, an eye like the gazelle's, fair as the beauties of Room or the fabled ones of England. She falls at his feet—he is captivated. She conquers, and the Nika is performed. They live happily for some time; but the fame of the beauty of the daughter of a neighbour reaches him. His soul is on fire; his former love is neglected. He proposes marriage; it is accepted; the bride comes home, and a deadly jealousy ensues between the rival wives. The quarrels of the zenana are described; and by the shrieks of laughter from behind the screen, it is easy to believe how naturally all had been described and acted. The Nuwab has reached middle age; he is now a father of a family, a respectable man, a religious man, surrounded by Moolas, who flatter him, and have usurped the places of his former companions. He is as debauched as ever; but it is not known; he passes for a just and good man, and his durbar is described, and his judgments. What was Solomon compared with him? or Hatim Tai, or Lokman the wise? And at each enumeration of his virtues the assembly loudly applauded, and directed their looks to the real Nuwab who sat as the spectator.

      Again the Nuwab is shown, old and decrepid, worn out by disease, surrounded by quacks, from whom he demands nostrums to make him young and vigorous. His zenana is fuller than ever of women, who flatter his vanity, tell him he is as young as ever he was, and yet are false to him; but he has a son who promises to excel his father, who is a Mejnoon in form, a Roostum in valour, before whom his father's enemies are scattered like chaff from the grain before the wind. The old Nuwab is growing more and more decrepid and querulous. His fancies and longings are described in a most laughable manner; and as the final event approaches, he sinks into his eternal sleep, sure of the seventy Houris of Paradise, and the eternal youth, which is the portion of true believers. Having concluded, they stepped forward for the largess promised.

      "Well, Meer Sahib," said the Nuwab to me, "how like you this?—have the men done ill or well?"

      "Ul-humd-ul-illa!" said I; "the works of Alla are wonderful, and assuredly these fellows are of his especial handywork. I have seen many of their caste before, but never any like these."

      "They shall be well rewarded," said the Nuwab; "and yet, despite of our having laughed at the whole story, there is much of a moral in it, and much satire. Would that many of the rising generation could receive a lesson from it; they might become wiser and better men."

      "Ameen," I replied; "my lord's remarks are just. I did not notice the satire when I heard it; but now I feel it, and it is just."

      The night was far advanced; and, requesting leave to depart, I rose to be gone. I was passing the Tuwaifs, when an old woman pulled me by the sleeve, and said, hurriedly, "If you seek an opportunity, there is another who desires one. Be secret; you shall hear more from me." My blood boiled. I slipt a piece of money into her hand, and departed.

CHAPTER IX.

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      I said my blood boiled. Could it be that one so lovely—one who had kept company with the nobles and men of wealth of Hyderabad, had seen aught to admire in me, who was unused to courtly scenes, and was even yet a boy, deficient in manner and address?—could it be that, from my dress and appearance, she thought me rich—one who would squander my substance upon her? These thoughts were passing through my mind, and we had nearly reached our encampment without my having interchanged a word with my companions. The silence was broken by Bhudrinath.

      "How is this, Meer Sahib?" said he; "what has tied your tongue?—have you nothing to talk about after our night's entertainment—no remarks to make on the beautiful Kunchinee? By Alla!—though it is a Mahomedan oath—I would almost be content to give up the heaven of Indra, and turn Moosulman, were I sure of being attended in the paradise of Mahomed by a set of Houris just such as she. And to think of her belonging to that old wretch the Nuwab, and to be buried in this hole of a Mahratta village, when she might have half the nobles of Hyderabad at her feet, were she there. By Alla!—I say again—it were worth the while to try and entice her away from the old sensualist; and it would be something to talk about, not to mention her company on the road, and the rare addition she would make to our evening amusements."

      "Why," I replied, carelessly, "the girl is, as you say, of surpassing beauty, and no doubt feels herself uncomfortable in this abode of swine; yet to get her away would be no easy task; and what should we do with her when we got her?"

      "I