Every evening, before sunset, thither wends the fashionable world of
Calcutta. The impassive European, with all the proud consciousness of a
conquering race; the half-Europeanized baboo; the deposed rajah,--all may
be seen driving to and fro in splendid equipages, drawn by handsome
steeds, and followed by servants in gay Oriental attire. The rajahs and
"nabobs" are usually dressed in gold-embroidered robes of silk, over
which are thrown the costliest Indian shawls. Ladies and gentlemen, on
English horses of the best blood, canter along the road, or its turfen
borders; while crowds of dusky natives gather in all directions, or
leisurely move homewards after their day's work. A bright feature of the
scene is the animated appearance of the Hooghly: first-class East
Indiamen are lying at anchor, ships are arriving or preparing for
departure, the native craft incessantly ply to and fro, and a Babel of
voices of different nationalities rises on the air.
Here is a picture of the Maidan, drawn by another lady-traveller, Mrs.
Murray Mitchell:--
[The Maidan, Calcutta: page95.jpg]
It is, she says, a noble expanse, which, about a hundred years ago, was a
wild swampy jungle, famous only for snipe-shooting. Strange to say, it
is not, like most Indian plains, burned up and brown, but, from its
vicinity to the river, and the frequent showers that visit it, as fresh
and green as an English park.
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