The colonel has every intention of preventing the situation from deteriorating to such an extent. The king is more concerned with poetry than politics, and his mother is an intelligent woman, who will soon understand where her family’s interest lies.
At the entrance to the palace, he is saluted by women guards dressed in black kurtas and churidars,32 a cartridge belt strapped across their chests. Being short and corpulent himself, the colonel always feels uneasy with these dark, muscular Amazons, who are far more imposing than his own soldiers. Nicknamed “the black cats,” they are said to be of Abyssinian origin. The first ones are supposed to have come to Awadh during the time of Bahu Begum, Wajid Ali Shah’s ancestor, who had maintained her own army. They are efficient and completely loyal, unlike the eunuchs, who are ceaselessly plotting. The only problem is they often fall pregnant . . .
Inside the palace, the resident is released to another group of female guards, Turkish this time, with milky complexions. They precede him, shouting “Purdah karo!”33 in order to warn the women of a stranger’s presence. He is led through a labyrinth of vestibules giving on to small, shady inner courtyards, up and down narrow staircases, without meeting another living soul. However, Sir James has the clear sensation of being watched by hundreds of pairs of eyes.
Finally, they reach the audience room, the Hall of Mirrors. The colonel has heard of it, but this is the first time he is actually entering the place. At the threshold he stops, dazzled: lit by high crystal candelabras, the walls and ceiling are covered with mosaic and thousands of tiny mirrors, depicting the gardens of paradise, sparkling with a profusion of multicoloured flowers and birds.
At the centre of this splendour, sitting on a simple white sheet, two black shapes are awaiting him.
Purdah, of course! He had forgotten; it is going to be easy to converse with shadows! The colonel feels his irritation rising, all the more so as in all traditional interiors, the hall is devoid of chairs, and despite the cushions the servants bring, he is unable to sit comfortably. What else? He has to remove his shoes as well? That is out of the question! It is the custom in India, and even considered the most elementary courtesy, but he is an Englishman and sees no reason to comply with the traditions of the natives.
The Queen Mother receives him with a long formula of welcome, transmitted to the interpreter by the dark silhouette seated next to her. It would be improper for a man to hear the Queen Mother’s voice.34
While the interpreter responds with a flowery speech, Colonel Outram arms himself with patience. Experience has taught him that in India, and especially in Lucknow, the heart of the matter is only approached after long detours and to want to hurry things along only results in delaying them further.
Young girls enter the hall carrying silver platters filled with acidic-coloured delicacies. He has to refuse them seven times, as etiquette dictates. He will only accept a glass of “lemonade,” a very sweet juice of lemon and rose. Despite his efforts, he has never managed to acquire a taste for this refreshment, but he has mastered the art of wetting his lips while seeming to drink it.
An hour passes interspersed with trivial comments and long silences. Finally, the Queen Mother makes up her mind:
“Is it true, sir, that the honourable East India Company, which you represent, has decided the king, my son, is no longer fit to reign?”
“That is true, Your Majesty.”
“Is it true that it has decided to relieve him of all powers and take over the administration of the state?”
“It is true.”
“And if the king refuses, is it true that the Company has decided to annexe our state by force?”
“It is true, Your Majesty, but I dare hope we will not have to resort to such extremes.”
“And how so, Mr. Resident?”
“It is very simple. The king has only to abdicate and the Honourable Company, in its clemency, will grant him a generous pension of one hundred and fifty thousand rupees, and will permit him to retain his titles and authority over his Court.”
After a long silence, the Queen Mother’s husky voice rises. Ignoring protocol, she addresses the resident directly.
“What crimes has my son committed? How has he provoked the wrath of the British government, for whom he has only respect and admiration? Tell me, sir, what he must do and I promise he will follow every instruction to the letter!”
“I regret, Your Majesty, but these are the orders. I can only follow them.”
“You can at least convey a message to the Governor General Lord Dalhousie. Tell him the king is only too willing to administer his state in accordance with the governor general’s directives, if he would kindly define them clearly.”
“The king has already made such promises. The Company has been very patient, now it is too late.”
The Queen Mother is silent for a moment, overwhelmed, then:
“I see now, sir, that my son is condemned. But if the British government does not consider him fit to reign, why not appoint his brother, Mirza Sekunder Hashmat, in his place, or his son?”
Taken unawares, Colonel Outram remains silent. The proposal makes sense. He has no valid answer to oppose it. Except that Lord Dalhousie will never . . . He mumbles:
“I do not see . . . how this would be to your advantage?”
The dark silhouette straightens.
“Not to our personal advantage sir, but at least the kingdom of Awadh would endure, and our name would not be dishonoured!”
“I am sorry, Your Majesty, London’s decision is final and irrevocable. I have come here to request you to persuade the king to agree. If he signs, he will live opulently, with nothing more to worry about. If he refuses, he will lose his kingdom and his whole fortune. We are convinced that as a mother, you will want to ensure your son’s and all his dependents’ welfare. Besides, you will have an independent income for yourself, as the Company is offering to pay you a pension of a hundred thousand rupees.”
“Enough!”
A harsh voice pierces the dark veil:
“What gives you the right to be so insolent? How dare you try to bribe me so that I will convince the king to abdicate and bring this dishonour upon himself! For you Angrez nothing matters but money! Do you think we have not understood your game? You have long coveted Awadh’s wealth and whatever my son might have done, he had no hope of satisfying you!”
With an abrupt sweep of the hand, the Queen Mother indicates to Sir James that the interview is over.
As the Turkish guards surround the resident to escort him away, the slim black figure, who is none other than Hazrat Mahal sitting beside the Queen Mother, leans towards her:
“He is white with rage, Huzoor, he will take his revenge.”
“Well, my daughter, they are stealing our country, what more can they do? I have been far too patient. When this lout insulted me, I had to stop myself from ordering my Amazons to whip him! When I think that a hundred years ago, the Queen Mother of Awadh, Begum Sadr-i-Jahan, travelled in a palanquin carried by a dozen British prisoners . . . Alas! How times have changed . . . ”
6
Day after day, the British troops advance on Awadh. To demonstrate his peaceful intentions, the king has supplies sent to them and has ordered his own troops be disarmed and his artillery dismantled. He intends to show he does not harbour the slightest desire for rebellion, and thus ensure that the East India Company has no excuse to annexe the state. Incapable of duplicity, he refuses to believe they can violate the treaty that has bound them to their faithful ally and most generous donor for the past fifty-five years.
No matter how many times his friend Rajah Jai Lal reminds him that the governor general has already annexed a dozen states over the last few years with no valid justification, and therefore will have no scruples about seizing Awadh, Wajid Ali Shah will not listen.
“Hundreds of taluqdars have pledged th
eir support,” insists the rajah. “They can raise an army of a hundred thousand men and a thousand pieces of artillery! And you know very well that since most of the British army’s sepoys are from Awadh, they will refuse to shoot their brothers! Just one word from you, Your Majesty, and the country is ready to fight to avoid falling prey to the Angrez!”
To no avail. The king continues to declare he does not want to shed the blood of his people. Maybe he does not really trust the taluqdars’ sincerity either, and Jai Lal cannot blame him entirely for this. The region’s history shows that most of these prominent feudal lords’ first loyalty is to their own interests, and when they find themselves in a position of weakness, they do not hesitate to change sides to rally behind the strongest. But most of all, Wajid Ali Shah is not a man of action, much less a warrior . . . Jai Lal loves him and respects his humane qualities, but he is perfectly aware that his friend lives in a dream world and has always fled confrontation.
At 8 o’clock in the morning of February 4th, Colonel Outram, accompanied by two officers, arrives at the royal palace where he is received by unarmed guards. A heavy silence reigns in the deserted living rooms usually full of busy courtiers, and the few servants he does encounter refuse to meet his gaze.
Surrounded by his ministers, the sovereign is waiting for him in the Council Hall. The resident has barely crossed the threshold when the king rushes over to embrace him warmly, as if welcoming a long-awaited friend rather than a judge who is about to announce his sentence.
Uncomfortable with this unexpected display of affection, Sir James has some difficulty disengaging himself.
“Your Majesty! Please!”
And withdrawing to a respectful distance, he declares:
“Your Majesty, I have a message for you from his Excellency the Governor General Lord Dalhousie, representative of the honourable East India Company.”
In his most official tone, Colonel Outram announces to the king that the Company finds itself obliged to break the treaty of 1801 allying it with the kingdom of Awadh, given the king’s multiple breaches of the obligations set out in the aforesaid treaty. The Company thus demands that the king sign a new treaty consisting of seven articles in which he recognises that he has constantly and publicly betrayed all his commitments and consequently, he accepts that the exclusive administration of all the state of Awadh’s civil and military affairs will henceforth and forever be under the responsibility of the honourable Company. The Company will also freely dispose of all the state’s income in the manner it sees fit. For its part, in its great magnanimity, the Company guarantees the king a pension of one hundred and fifty thousand rupees per annum, as well as the respect of his titles and his authority over his Court.
Although the resident was prepared for protests, he did not expect the outburst of sobs and moans the verdict provokes. In tears, Wajid Ali Shah reminds him of his own and his ancestors’ loyalty to the East India Company; they have always been its most devoted allies and have never hesitated to help in difficult times. He will not stoop so low as to specify the amounts, but everyone knows the enormous sums lent and never reclaimed. To say nothing of the cost of maintaining an army imposed by the Company, the numerous constructions required to house the resident, his retinue and his administration, as well as the multiple and incessant expenditures necessary to ensure the comfort of his increasingly intrusive guests.
In a dramatic gesture, the king even tears off his turban, the symbol of his sovereignty, and cries out in a heart-rending voice:
“I no longer have any power, how could my humble person conclude a treaty with the all-powerful Company?”
For hours, the phlegmatic resident reiterates that he is only obeying orders, and if the king does not sign his abdication, in addition to the kingdom, he will forfeit all the advantages conceded to him. He has, however, underestimated the monarch, who, to his great surprise, obstinately refuses to give in, indifferent to both promises and threats.
“I will appeal to the governor general in Calcutta. I will even go all the way to London to demand justice from Queen Victoria!”
Infuriated by what he, as a true English gentleman, considers a disgraceful pantomime, Sir James Outram finally terminates the meeting:
“Your Majesty has three days to decide. If on February 7th at midday, he has not signed, the East India Company will take permanent and exclusive control of the state and Your Majesty will be divested of all his privileges.”
On February 7th, 1856, the annexation of the state of Awadh is officially proclaimed, and in Calcutta, the Governor General Lord Dalhousie notes complacently:
“Today, our most gracious queen has five million subjects and one million three hundred thousand pounds of revenue more than she had yesterday.”
In Lucknow, however, events do not unfold as well as expected. Convinced that the population, having been exploited and tyrannised by an irresponsible and corrupt government, would enthusiastically welcome the new administration, the British are taken aback by the Lucknawis’ passive resistance. While awaiting the outcome of his visits to Calcutta and London, the king has directed his subjects to obey the new authorities, so there are no demonstrations, but petitions circulate, demanding that Jan-e-Alam, “the beloved of the world,” remain sovereign.
Sir James has no use for these protests that he claims are inspired by the Court. He cannot, however, ignore the army and the administration’s refusal to join his government. Disregarding an offer of very high salaries, the senior civil servants and the military personnel of the recently dissolved royal army avoid the colonel, who intends to incorporate them into the Company’s rank. To his great displeasure, neither the promises of fabulous pay, nor the offer to recruit both young and old, are successful in convincing the soldiers. At the risk of being declared rebels, some officers bluntly declare: “Enough of your proposals! The men have eaten their king’s salt35 for decades, they cannot serve his enemies now!”
*
As for Wajid Ali Shah, realising that to demand justice from the governor general, the Company’s representative, would be a waste of time, he has decided to go all the way to England to plead his cause before the queen and parliament. He intends to present the proof of his constant efforts since his accession to follow the orders imposed by successive residents, and to explain how, while urging him to enact reforms, they systematically deprived him of any means of initiating or discharging them. Some of his former ministers would be able to testify to this. In addition, there are reams of documents proving his statements and the bad faith of the Company’s officials. Queen Victoria can only recognise his loyalty and the incessant intriguing by those who claim to be paragons of morality.
For his part, fearing that the East India Company’s questionable methods would be exposed and that the British press would discover that the “guilty party is not who one thinks it is,” Colonel Outram resolves to do everything in his power to prevent the king’s departure. Under false pretences, he places the ministers who are to accompany the sovereign under house arrest: the finance minister, the person responsible for the government archives and even the prime minister, although he is close to the British but critical of the annexation. The colonel also seizes the official documents and public acts that could support the king’s arguments, leaving the latter with no means of pleading his cause.
Contrary to the resident’s calculations however, Wajid Ali Shah does not give up. He will go and throw himself at the queen’s feet, as he has every faith in her impartiality and wants to be heard.
Colonel Outram is furious. Abandoning all semblance of civility, he spares the king no humiliation and will stop at no malice to prevent his departure. As he dares not detain him by force, he has the twenty-two members of the sovereign’s inner circle arrested, his closest supporters chosen to accompany him, and he goes as far as confiscating all his carriages.
From her apartments in Chattar Manzil Palace
, where the king’s wives and relatives live, Hazrat Mahal follows these events in great detail thanks to Mammoo’s invaluable network. He has his informers both within the Residency and within the palace walls.
She is proud of her king, who displays such determination confronting this ordeal, but deplores the fact that he has not followed Rajah Jai Lal’s advice. She had tried to talk to him, but he had frowned at her first words. He, usually so patient, suggested she return to her poems instead.
The young woman seriously doubts the king will obtain satisfaction from Queen Victoria. How could she challenge the Company, which in a few decades has brought the Crown three-quarters of India with its immense resources? Resources that have allowed England to become the world’s leading industrial and commercial power.
These are all questions that are readily debated in the zenana.
Smiling to herself, Hazrat Mahal remembers the amazement of the British ladies when the Queen Mother invited them to high tea. They only talked about their wardrobes and knick-knacks, convinced these were the sole subjects accessible to these poor cloistered women, until, exasperated, the Queen Mother had begun to question them about their new prime minister’s programme; questions they had been quite incapable of answering.
For these memsahibs,36 convinced of their superiority, reclusion implies ignorance and submission. They are far from imagining the complexity of a harem and the extent to which, if one wants to go beyond the condition of mere odalisque, one must remain constantly alert and up-to-date with everything, in order to be able to steer a clear path through the innumerable pitfalls.
Reclusion is a litmus test that destroys the weak and makes the indomitable stronger. In order to attain their goals, these extraordinary women have to deploy a wealth of intelligence, subtlety and tenacity. This is how Oriental women, these “submissive creatures,” whether shut up in a harem, confined to their homes or hidden under their veils, generally control the person who imagines himself to be their lord and master.
In the City of Gold and Silver Page 5
