Recollections Of Calcutta For Over Half A Century Part 2

THE GREAT CYCLONE OF 1864.

The great cyclone occurred on the 4th October, 1864, and well do I remember it, as it was the Express day for posting letters _via_ Bombay, and an extra fee of one rupee was charged on each ordinary letter. At that time the foreign mail went out fortnightly, alternately from Bombay and Calcutta. I happened to be rather behindhand with my letters, and was very busily engaged in office until about 6 o'clock in the evening, when I ventured outside to go to the post office, by which time the fury of the storm had almost spent itself. Although confined indoors without any actual knowledge of the awful destruction that was going on, I was not altogether devoid of a certain degree of excitement.

The office of the firm with which I was a.s.sociated was then known as 7, New China Bazar Street, now Royal Exchange Place, and my room, which had several windows, was on the north side on the first floor.

The wind kept constantly veering round from all points of the compa.s.s, and at one period of the day blew with terrific violence from the north--right at the back of where I was seated. I got up from time to time and closely inspected the fastenings of the windows, which, for a long while, seemed to be all right, but later on I noticed ominous signs that some of the crossbars were weakening. It then became a question as to whether and for how long they could continue to withstand the terrible strain to which they were being subjected, and, forthwith, I and my co-a.s.sistants proceeded to wedge stools and bars against them, which most providentially had the desired effect. Had they given way, the place would have been clean swept from end to end and completely wrecked. In the course of the morning my Burra Sahib, who was married, and had left his wife all alone in their house, 3, London Street, was, of course, greatly perturbed and anxious as to her safety, and at about 11 o'clock he made up his mind to try and get back home again, and ordered out his buggy. I must confess I felt horribly nervous at the time, as he was a tall heavily built man, and it was just a toss-up as to whether he could get through or not. He might very easily have been capsized and the consequences would probably have proved disastrous. Fortunately, however, nothing happened and he reached home in safety.

The cyclone commenced before midnight the previous evening and increased in intensity as daylight approached and the day advanced. It was pretty bad when I left the house at about 9 o'clock for office, still I managed to struggle through. But it was an entirely different proposition with which I was confronted on my return journey in the evening.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Photo. by B. & S._ A Street in Burra Bazaar.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Photo. by Bourne & Shepherd_ Chitpure Road]

I was then living in a chummery in Circular Road, Ballygunge, and the entrance from Lower Circular Road, Calcutta, was so blocked up with fallen trees and other _debris_ that I found it impossible to make headway against it in my gharry, so I sent it back to the office and walked to the house, or rather scrambled over trees and other obstacles the best way I could.

I can never forget the terrible scene of heartbreaking desolation and destruction that I encountered in every direction on going down to office next morning. It seemed at first sight as if the town had suffered from the effects of a bombardment. As I slowly wended my way along the various streets and across the maidan, I was confronted on all sides with striking evidence of the frightful ruin that had overtaken the city. On every hand were to be seen great stately trees, that had safely weathered innumerable storms of the past, lying p.r.o.ne on their sides, either uprooted or cut through as with a knife: many in falling had broken through the masonry of the boundary walls of the compounds in which they were growing, greatly intensifying the look of misery and desolation. There were also to be seen myriads of branches of trees stripped off and flung about in all directions in the wildest confusion, and in some parts the ground was so thickly strewn with fallen leaves as to form a sort of carpet.

Many of the buildings had also suffered very severely. Some had had their verandahs and sides blown in, and others had had corners literally cut off where the fury of the storm had struck a particular angle. Amongst some others that had fared so badly was unhappily St.

James's Theatre in Circular Road, the home of the "CATS." All the members at once felt that it had become a thing of the past, as the owner, Mr. Jimmy Brown, who had built it at a cost of Rs. 30,000, could never afford the expense of repairing it. The picture will show the wreck it had become. But bad and distressing as all this appeared to be, it absolutely paled into insignificance in comparison with what I Was to witness on arrival at the river bank. The sight that there greeted me was truly appalling and beggared description. Of the whole of that grand and superb array of vessels which had been seen the day before gracefully riding safely at their moorings, decked out in all their pride and glory and lined up alongside the Strand, three and four abreast from the Pepper Box to the Eden Gardens, one alone was left, all the others having been violently torn adrift and swept clean away to the four winds of heaven. Besides these were all the country traders moored to the south of the Pepper Box known as Coolie Bazar, extending as far as Tackta Ghat, which shared the same fate.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Remains of St. James's Theatre, Circular Road.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: Remains of Col. Turner's House, 2, Wood Street.]

They had all been driven helter-skelter in every direction, some as far north as Cossipore, and one vessel, the _Earl of Clare_, was landed high and dry on the present site of the a.s.sistants' bungalow of the north mill of the Barnagore Jute Company. One of the P. & O. boats lying at Garden Reach was deposited for some distance inland on the opposite side of the river close to the Botanical Gardens, and the _Govindpur_ was driven helplessly in a crippled state close to the river bank just opposite to the Port Office on Strand Road, and was lying for hours almost on her beam ends on the port side facing the river. The crew had in desperation sought refuge in the rigging, from which eventually and with extreme difficulty they were happily and safely rescued. One of Apcar & Co.'s China steamers, the _Thunder_, was driven well inside Colvin Ghat and on to the Strand at the bottom of Hastings Street.

But the majority of ships seemed to have been flung together in a confused tangled ma.s.s close to the Howrah Railway Ghat. Many were sunk; others in the act of sinking; and the remainder so battered and hammered about as to defy description, rendering it extremely difficult to determine whether most of them would not become a constructive loss. My eldest brother was in Calcutta at the time, in command of a vessel called the _Vespasian_. He had been spending the previous night at my chummery at Ballygunge, and when he went the next morning to get on board his ship she was nowhere to be seen. At last he traced her, jammed in amongst the ruck at Howrah, and that was the last he ever saw of her, and he had subsequently to return home overland minus his vessel. He afterwards joined the service of the Pacific Steam Navigation Co., eventually becoming commodore of the fleet, a position which he held for a great number of years, until his final retirement.

In order to convey some slight idea of the force of the wind I will just mention that there was in command of one of the vessels in port a man of great weight and bulk who had been spending the night on sh.o.r.e.

When he attempted to cross the maidan on foot the next morning he was thrown violently down, flat on his face, two or three times, and he had to scramble back again the best way he could. Another striking evidence of the violence of the storm was to be seen in the myriads of dead crows lying about all over the place, and it really seemed as if there was not one left alive. But unfortunately it was not long before we were undeceived, and they soon appeared to be quite as numerous as ever. As I have already stated, the destruction of trees and shrubs was very great--a loss that the city could ill afford, more particularly on the maidan, which at that time was very bare of trees and foliage generally. The various topes dotted about that we now see had not then come into existence, and the avenue of trees lining the sides of Mayo Road had only been recently planted.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The "Govindpur" on her Beam Ends.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: S S "Thunder" on sh.o.r.e, at Colvin Ghat.]

I recollect there were also no trees surrounding Government House, nor in the vicinity of the Eden Gardens. And there were none on the s.p.a.ce fronting Esplanade Row, West. Dalhousie Square and Old Court House Street were also very bare of trees--scarcely one to be seen. The loss of life amongst the natives was appalling, caused princ.i.p.ally by the huge storm or tidal wave accompanying the cyclone, resembling a solid wall of water, which at Diamond Harbour rose to the height of 34 feet; when it reached Calcutta it was 27 to 28 feet, rushing up the Hooghly from the sea at the rate of 20 miles an hour, destroying and overwhelming everything it encountered in its wild and devastating career. It was, of course, a matter of extreme difficulty to arrive at any very reliable estimate of the number who perished, owing to the vast area of country over which the storm raged. Happily the death rate in Calcutta itself was, comparatively speaking, not so very great, and was confined more or less to the crews of small native craft plying on the river, such as lighters, cargo-boats, dinghees, budgetows, and green-boats. This closes a brief chapter of some of the incidents that occurred and which have flitted across my memory in this never-to-be-forgotten storm which nearly overwhelmed Calcutta in October 1864, and shook it literally to its very foundations; but no pen can adequately visualise the picture of awful desolation and ruin that it wrought and left behind in its terribly devastating course.

_[The pictures ill.u.s.trating this chapter are from a collection in the possession of Messrs. Thacker, Spink & Co_.]

THE CYCLONE OF 1867.

This happened about a month later than that of 1864, on the 1st November, 1867, and long past the usual period for storms of this violent nature. On this occasion I was occupying the top flat of what was then 12, Hastings Street, Colvin Ghat, next door to the offices of Grindlay & Co., and on the site of the building recently erected by c.o.x & Co. as a storing warehouse. It was a very old shaky kind of house of three storeys having an insecure-looking, narrow strip of railed-in wooden verandah skirting the whole length of the southern portion of the second and third flats, which many people now in Calcutta will doubtless recollect.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Some effects of the Cyclone at Garden Reach]

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Photo. by Bourne & Shepherd_ Old view of Government House, showing Scott Thomson's corner.]

It was by no means the sort of place one would choose to brave the terrors of a cyclone, and it also had the great disadvantage, by reason of its very exposed position, of being open to attack from all points of the compa.s.s.

The storm commenced earlier than that of 1864, late in the afternoon, and just about dusk appearances were so threatening that I went downstairs, with the intention of going outside to ascertain, if possible, whether it was likely to develop into a _pucca_ cyclone or not. When I got there I found the wind was sweeping past the entrance in such fearfully violent gusts as to make it quite impossible for me to venture outside into the street, and I also detected that ominously sinister, weird and moaning sound that unmistakably warned me of the impending fact that a cyclone of considerable intensity was rapidly approaching. I immediately returned to my rooms and made everything as secure as I could for withstanding the fury of the storm. I had invited that evening a party of friends to dinner and to play whist afterwards, and they duly turned up to time. As the night wore on, the force of the wind gradually increased in intensity, and great gusts struck the building at all angles with such terrific force as to make it reel and tremble from top to bottom. I recollect I was not feeling at all nervous, not realising at the time the very great danger that threatened us all. But one of my chums, a little stout man, well known at that time in the tea trade, of the name of Inskipp, usually a most cheery and genial soul, tried his best to instil into our minds the very serious risk we were running. He kept roaming about the room in a very distressed and restless manner, prophesying all sorts of disasters, winding up with the a.s.sertion that it would not at all surprise him if at any moment the house were to tumble down about our ears and bury the whole lot of us in its ruins. It was, however, all of no use. He could not succeed in frightening us; and the four of us continued to play whist, and now and then threw out at him a few chaffing remains on his lugubrious and unhappy state. But later on we had a tremendous shock, and for the moment it seemed as if part of his prognostications were to come only too true. It appeared that the iron bar across one of the windows in my bedroom to the west, looking on to the river, leading oft the sitting room in which we were seated, had given way, and the wind bursting through the closely-barred shutters with irresistible fury had forced open the door of communication between the two rooms. Most fortunately the shutters held or the whole flat would have been completely wrecked. It took all our combined efforts some time to force back the door and securely-fasten it by jamming a music stool and chairs up against it. To add to our discomfort, the roof was leaking like a sieve, and we had to place several bowls in each of the rooms, and my own room when I entered it the following morning when the storm had pa.s.sed was a sight more easily imagined than described. Of course I had to find beds for all my guests, but it is needless to say that none of us got much sleep.

When daylight at length broke we all rushed to the windows, naturally expecting to see the same sort of debacle amongst the shipping as had overtaken it in the cyclone of 1864; but, to our intense joy and relief, not a single vessel had left her anchorage. This was partly due to the port authorities having learnt by bitter experience the necessity of considerably strengthening and improving the moorings, and also in a great measure to the absence of the storm-wave which had accompanied the previous cyclone and wrought such havoc and destruction. But all the same the loss of life and damage sustained, covering a large extent of country, must have been of serious and far-reaching magnitude. The city again suffered heavily in the matter of trees and shrubs, which were uprooted and, last of all, the crows of course contributed their usual heavy toll of death and temporary annihilation.

THE CYCLONE OF 1887.

It is rather singular that though this happened about 20 years later than the other two, the impression left on my mind as to the amount of actual damage it caused is not half so clear and distinct, and my recollections are confined more or less to one or two incidents of a personal nature. I remember however for one thing that I was in Darjeeling at the time, but I cannot recall any particulars that I may there have heard, or subsequently on my return to Calcutta, about the effect of the storm. I must therefore presume that nothing of a very startling nature did occur in Calcutta. There is, however, one outstanding event that I must relate, as it involved the loss of a man well known in business circles and very highly respected, and who was also a very dear and intimate friend of my own--Mr. Keith Sim, Agent of the Queen Insurance Co. before they amalgamated with the Royal Insurance Co. He had been suffering from a slight attack of fever and had been recommended to take a trip to the Sandheads. He accordingly embarked on a large and powerful steam tug, the _Retriever_, towing an outward bound vessel, the _G.o.diva_, but the weather from the early morning had been looking very lowering and threatening, and by the time they reached Saugor Island It had become infinitely worse. Why they were ever allowed to proceed to sea has always remained a mystery to me. It must, I think, have been some bungling on the part of the port authorities. The further they proceeded down the Bay, the worse the weather became, until eventually they ran right bang into the very teeth of a severe cyclone. The result, as was to be expected, proved most disastrous. The hawser connecting the ship and steam tug snapped in two, being unequal to the tremendous strain, and they parted company. The vessel escaped by a miracle after having been battered about and driven in all directions. She was eventually rescued by the _Warren Hastings_, after the lapse of three days in the Eastern Channel, in a completely gutted condition, but the steam tug foundered with every soul on board. In the act of sinking, a most extraordinary and unheard-of thing happened. A lascar on board was violently shot up from below through one of the air ventilators of the steamer, and was found floating in the sea some 36 hours afterwards by a P. & O.

steamer coming up the Bay to Calcutta. He was the one and only survivor left to tell the sad tale. Of course it could never be ascertained what actually occurred, but I recollect one of the theories propounded at the time was to the effect that the steamer had been drawn into the vortex of the cyclone, and she must then have been encompa.s.sed round about by a towering ma.s.s of pyramidical seas, tumbling in the wildest confusion from all points of the compa.s.s, which gradually led to the culmination of the final catastrophe by crashing down on to the deck with irresistible and overwhelming force, literally smothering and engulfing her without a shadow of chance of recovery. Mrs. Keith Sim and her little boy were in Calcutta at the time, and great sympathy was expressed for them in their sad bereavement. The little boy has long since grown to man's estate, and is now occupying a position of great trust and responsibility as agent of the Commercial Union a.s.surance Co., and is thus emulating the activities and achievements of his much lamented father.

GOVERNMENT HOUSE.

It will doubtless be a matter of surprise to a good many people to hear of the change that has taken place in the venue of one of the princ.i.p.al functions of Government House. When I first arrived here and for many years afterwards the usual annual levee was held at 4 o'clock in the afternoon. There is also another very marked innovation in respect of the present procedure connected with presentations to His Excellency the Viceroy. Formerly all that one had to do was to send in a card, in response to a notification issued by the military secretary in the papers, addressed to the "First Aide-de-Camp" in waiting, marked on the outside of the envelope "For the Levee," which was then considered to be all that was necessary.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Photo. by Johnston & Hoffmann_ Old view of Government Place, East, and Old Court House Street.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Photo. by Bourne & Shepherd_ Present view of Government House, showing Esplanade Mansions.]

On the day of the ceremony you took two cards with you, one of which you deposited on a tray in the vestibule of Government House, and the other you retained, and on approaching the military secretary in the throne room you handed it over to him, the same as you do with the official card with which each person is furnished at the present day.

In the event of your desiring to act as sponsor for a friend wishing to be presented, you enclosed in the same envelope, addressed to the aide-de-camp, a second card with his name inscribed thereon, stating the object for which it was forwarded, and he followed exactly the same formula as his introducer on entering the precincts of Government House. It was considered indispensable as now that anyone making a presentation should personally attend the levee. The condition of things has so much changed since those times and the European population so greatly increased with advancing years that it was considered advisable to make some modification in the then existing rules so as to meet the altered requirements of the present time. I think the real meaning of the change is to be found in the belief that formerly existed in the minds of officials that every one who sent in his card for the levee in the old days was eligible for the entree to Government House. The procedure in respect of State Drawing Rooms has also undergone a considerable modification in one particular. Formerly gentlemen were allowed to accompany their lady friends as far as the big hall and wait for them there until they emerged from the throne room and escort them upstairs to the ball room. This privilege was withdrawn very many years ago.

The hospitality of Government House was proverbial, and whilst the Viceroy and his entourage were residing in Calcutta, it was one perpetual round of gaiety and entertainments, week after week. They comprised dinners, evening parties, dances, garden parties, and occasional concert, At Homes, levees and Drawing Rooms, and, last of all, though not least, the annual State Ball to which I have already made previous reference which generally took place after Christmas in the month of January. To this all who had attended the levee were invited, and a very pretty sight and enjoyable affair it always proved to be. I think the number of guests attending these functions generally ran into a matter of 1500, more or less.

As I have already remarked dancing was quite possible and pleasant except perhaps in the very early stages of the evening when it was a bit of a crush, but later on, more particularly towards supper and afterwards when real dancers came into their own and had the room more or less to themselves, it was a treat for the G.o.ds as the floor was always in an ideal state of perfection.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Ball Room, Government House, Calcutta. _Photo. by Johnston & Hoffmann_]

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Photo. by Johnston & Hoffmann_ Throne Room, Government House, Calcutta.]

Dancing was generally kept up with spirit until 2 and 3 o'clock, and it was always very difficult to tear oneself away. For my own part I can safely say that some of the happiest and most enjoyable evenings of my life have been spent in the ball room of Government House.

Amongst the numerous State functions that from time to time took place must be included durbars, invest.i.tures, and other official ceremonies, all of which were held either in the house or grounds excepting one and that was the _Durbar and Invest.i.ture of the Order of the "Star of India_," held by Lord Northbrook, Viceroy of India, in honour of the late King Edward on the occasion of his visit to Calcutta as Prince of Wales in December-January, 1875-76. It was without exception the most gorgeous, magnificent, and impressive pageant ever witnessed in Calcutta. All the great Ruling Chiefs and Princes left their capitals to come to Calcutta to pay their homage and fealty to their future King-Emperor, amongst others the little lady known as the Begum of Bhopal, who, by reason of her great and unswerving loyalty and devotion to the British Raj in the dark days of the Mutiny, had earned for herself not only the lasting grat.i.tude and respect of the Government of India as well as that of the Home Government, but a position second to none in all that great a.s.semblage of Princes and Rulers in the Indian Empire. Being a Purdahnashin she was of course closely veiled, and all that we were permitted to see was a diminutive figure, looking exactly like any ordinary up-country woman. The ceremony took place about 11 o'clock in the morning in a huge marquee or durbar tent, capable of accommodating any number of people, on a site in close proximity to the Ochterlony monument. It was enclosed within a high wall of canvas branching off the tent itself on either side for a considerable distance, leaving a long, broad, open roadway, and lined on both sides by a series of tiny robing tents for the use and convenience of the Knights who were to be newly invested at the ceremony. The enclosure was rounded off at the far end facing the north by a large gateway, at which those taking part in the ceremony were set down as they drew up in their carriages.

It was a sight never to be forgotten that gradually unfolded itself to view as the Knights in grand procession slowly moved up the avenue in solemn and dignified state to the accompaniment of the martial strains of the Royal Marine band playing a different march as each Chief appeared on the scene. They were all arrayed in the long flowing princely mantle and resplendent dress and appointments of the Insignia of the Order.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Photo. by B & S_ Old view of Government Place, East, showing gates of Government House.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Photo. by B. & S._ Present-day view of Government Place, East, and Old Court House Street]

Each Chief or Prince was attended by a small retinue of retainers, one or two being armed and clad in barbaric garb of mediaeval chain-mail armour, and also a standard bearer who unfurled his banner to the breeze over the head of his own individual Chieftain. As each Chief reached the marquee he was placed in order of precedence alongside the throne. Last of all, the Viceroy and Prince of Wales appeared, escorted by nearly the whole of the bodyguard accoutred in their bright and picturesque uniform, surrounded by a most brilliant and numerous staff of aides-de-camp and equerries (chobdahs heading the procession), and all the other State officials attached to the entourage of both the Viceroy and Prince. The ceremony which took a considerable time was conducted with all the viceregal pomp and circ.u.mstance usual on such occasions, and, as I have already remarked, has never at any time been equalled in grandeur and spectacular effect in the annals of Calcutta.

COST OF LIVING IN CALCUTTA.

When I first arrived, everything was immeasurably cheaper than it is now, and it will no doubt surprise the young a.s.sistants in mercantile offices of the present day to hear that for the first year I received the sum of Rs. 200 per mensem and managed to live very comfortably on it. And when in the following year my salary was raised to Rs. 250

I could indulge in the luxury of a buggy and horse. I had a room in the best boarding house in Calcutta, in which lived young civilians or compet.i.tion-wallahs as they were then styled, studying the languages prior to being drafted somewhere up-country, barristers, lawyers, merchants, and brokers. For this I paid Rs. 90 per month. My bearer, khit, and dhobi cost me a further Rs. 20--the two first Rs. 8 each and the latter Rs. 4. House-rent was ridiculously cheap in comparison with the rates of the present day. As far as I recollect, the biggest house in Chowringhee was obtainable for Rs. 400 or Rs. 450 at the outside. No. 3, London Street, where my Burra Sahib then lived, was only Rs. 300 a month. A horse and syce cost about Rs. 25 a month to keep, and everything else in proportion. People were then very simple and inexpensive in their tastes. There was not, I think, the same inclination to spend money, and, as a matter of fact, there were not so many opportunities of doing so. For one thing, there were no theatres and other places of amus.e.m.e.nt, and trips home and even to the hills were few and far between. Ladies in those days thought nothing of staying with their husbands in Calcutta for several consecutive years, and yet they lived happily and contentedly through it all. To wind up the situation as regards expenses, I should say roundly that they are now about double what they were then.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Photo. by Johnston & Hoffmann_ Howrah Bridge from Calcutta side.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: View of Harrison Road from Howrah Bridge.]