Tiretta

I am currently trying to work on the extremely colourful life and times of Eduardo Tiretta. This post will be a fragmentary one. My intention is to bring to light a few things that I have recently found out about our man. It will by no means be a complete reflection of my research. I must thank Tintin da for first drawing my attention and interest to the figure of Tiretta and for the Casanova connection.

Tiretta was born in 1726. He was, as is commonly known, Calcutta's Civil Architect and Surveyor of Roads, and the man behind Calcutta's first 'purpose-built bazar'. One of the most colourful sides to his story is the fact that in 1762-63 he spent a fair amount of time with one Jacques Casanova. In his memoirs Casanova writes:

In the beginning of March, 1757, I received a letter from my friend Madame Manzoni, which she sent to me by a young man of good appearance, with a frank and high-born air, whom I recognized as a Venetian by his accent. He was young Count Tiretta de Trevisa, recommended to my care by Madame Manzoni, who said that he would tell me his story, which I might be sure would be a true one. The kind woman sent to me by him a small box in which she told me I should find all my manuscripts, as she did not think she would ever see me again.

I will leave it to the reader to follow the duo down their debauched path and their many exciting exploits, but two things are too tempting to let slip. Here's an excerpt from a conversation between host and guest.

Next day Tiretta came in, and said he had only just returned.
"You have been sleeping out, have you, master profligate?"
"Yes, I was so charmed with the she-pope that I kept her company all the night."
"You were not afraid of being in the way?"
"On the contrary, I think she was thoroughly satisfied with my conversation."

"[S]atisfied with my conversation" my foot! The conversation is, I suppose, what earned Tiretta the nickname "Count Six-times" and led to the following conversation between the "charming niece" and Casanova himself.

[Casanova] "Possibly, but the fact is that I was humbled by a circumstance I dare not tell you."
["charming niece"] "I think you are laughing at me with your 'dare not tell you.'"
"God forbid, mademoiselle! I will confess, then, that I was humbled because Madame Lambertini made me see that my friend was taller than myself by two inches."
"Then she imposed on you, for you are taller than your friend."
"I am not speaking of that kind of tallness, but another; you know what I mean, and there my friend is really monstrous."

Some time later Casanova notes, "If he had behaved well he might have become a rich man, but he got involved in some conspiracy and had to fly, and afterwards experienced many vicissitudes of fortune. I heard from one of his relations that he was in Bengal in 1788, in good circumstances, but unable to realize his property and so return to his native country. I do not know what became of him eventually."

Apart from the raunchy details, let me offer three findings. Firstly, the only known existing visual portrayal in James Gillray's 1792 painting, The Bengal Levee, possibly after a sketch by James Moffat (courtesy: British Library):

That person with the crooked nose right there is supposed to be Eduardo Tiretta, "greeting Father Parthanio, a Greek priest." 1792, when this was painted, was also the year that Tiretta was introduced to the girl who would be his wife - Angelique de Carrion of Serampore, then only 14 years old.

Angelique died in June 1796 at childbirth. (For these details I am indebted to Peter Robb's Sex and Sensibility: Richard Blechynden's Calcutta Diaries, 1791-1822, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2011.) She was buried in the Portuguese Church cemetery, which was meant for Catholics. Tiretta ran into trouble with those in charge for reasons I will not go into here and decided to re-inter his wife's corpse. He purchased a plot of land and called it Tiretta's Burial Ground. It came also to be known as the French Burial Ground. I can't find on the internet any mention of where that was, so I went in search and found it in two places, named two different things. In the map attached to the Monumental Register of Graves it was called Tiretta's Burial Ground. In the 1854 "Plan of Calcutta" it is referred to as the French Burial Ground. This is where it was.

And thirdly, and lastly for today, the advertisement for "Tiretta's Lottery" whereby he gave up many of his holdings in the city, including parts of (if not the whole) market. It was bought by a man named Weston, but we don't remember him that well. Rather depressing this.

[Please cite appropriately if you wish to use any of this information.]

Bazar on a Rainy Day

It rained today after what seems like ages. The heat, as it does in cycles, had reached an unbearable degree. I got a little wet on my way back. I just wanted to share a photograph of a Behala street market, shot and shared by my friend Siddhartha Dey, with whose permission I am posting it here. Do the people, does the street know how gorgeous it all looks?

Churrack Sannyasi - Sri Bhim Manik

As part of the work that I was doing on the Bazars of Calcutta, I came in touch, inevitably, with Chhatu-babu Latu-babu's Bazar, i.e. the Onauth Nauth Deb Bazar on Beadon Street. The family has a number of economic and cultural associations in Calcutta's history through the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, but more on that later. One of the traditions that they still preserve is the Churrack festival. I hope to compile soon a list of archival references to the Churrack festival, from the State Archives (some are provided in Calcutta in the Nineteenth Century: An Archival Exploration written by Sarmistha De and Bidisha Chakraborty), from newspaper reports and suchlike. There is of course that wonderful description and commentary in Hutom Pyanchar Naksha.

I went to watch the Churrack festival at the said Bazar (telecast widely) a year back. Subsequently I tried to get in touch with the head sannyasi to find out from him details about the ritual, his family, and so on. The directions that I got were vague at best. I was told that somewhere in Dom Para resides this gentleman by the name of Bhim Manik. I had some idea where Dom Para is but it took me a while to locate Bhim da. I first tried the Balaram De Street approach but I was told that I'd perhaps find someone by that name if I tried asking around the Minerva Theatre. So I did ask around and after a few failed attempts found someone who knew the neighbourhood where Bhim da resides. I finally managed to locate his son, who informed me that his father wasn't home. Chiranjeet gave me his number and asked me to get in touch in a couple of hours or so. I did so and after some difficulty retraced my way through the mazes and sub-mazes of the deep interiors of Dom Para back to his house. He invited me to the Club office, and there I spoke to the only Churrack sannyasi (from what I have been able to gather) in Calcutta. Here are a few excerpts from the interview:

From I was about his age [points to his nephew who is around 8 years old by my guess], I've been training under my father. He is my grandson. It's unfair to expect someone so small to fast. So my father used to feed me sandesh. I used to go with him. I grew up gradually and learnt some of the trickier bits from my father. We used to perform at Chhatu bazar even then. In fact, right from the time of my grandfather we have been performing at Chhatu bazar. My name is Bhim Manik. You can mention my father's name to them, Kanai Manik. 

There is a feat that we perform - I don't know if you've seen it - we hang upside down, our feet tied by a rope. This happens on the day when we first consecrate the deity - Baba. There is a particular way of tying the knot. Not too many people know how to do this. My grandfather - his grandfather - it has passed down to me. My grandfather was called Nandalal Manik. He too was a sannyasi.

Nimai Manik, Bhim Manik's father

Sri Bhim Manik

Aman Manna (I hope I got his name right), Bhim Manik's nephew 

We belong to the dharma pundit community. We are traditionally associated with the bamboo, cane and wicker trades. We are artisans. I work in the Burrabazar. You know, the labels that you find on your vests. My work is to attach those to vests. As far back as I know, none of my immediate ancestors were into impaling their bodies. I work with my group of 12 sannyasi-s. 

Chhora karate hoy - someone has to lie down. The deity is consecrated with flowers. Till such time as I utter the sacred words, the process cannot start. Once I give the signal, the purahit performs the ritual. The flowers are placed on the head of the linga. With time they will fall off from it. You can watch from afar. Till such time as the flowers drop, we can't let anything pass through our throats - not even water. After the flowers drop, we make a journey to the Ganges and proceed with further rites. We perform the habishyi thrice. The first two are at the river. Then there's a third, maya habishyi. Milk, kamini rice, dates, and other mewa. All the girls line up along the river hoping to get their share, however small, of the prasad. It's a fertility ritual. We will first offer to Baba. Then we consume it and then distribute it among everyone else.

This pole, you see, is constructed out of wood that is not available here. It has to be imported. I think it comes by ship. Once, one of these developed a crack. On of the persons associated with the Bazar asked me what he should do. "Should I try to repair it? May be nail it together?" I said, "No, don't ever do that. How will you feel if I drive a nail into your skin?" This too is a deity. My grandfather had swung from that tree. This one is new, it stays in their garden. I advised him to sacrifice it to the Ganges. And soon after we were able to get another tree from which we could make another pole.

I don't know if you will believe me, but there was this one time when a "sannyasi" who was supposed to perform the ritual ate when he was not supposed to. Who knows how it happened. He started coughing blood. Sannyas is not child's play. There are many who do not follow these customs sincerely. But there's no getting away from this particular deity - he is ever alert. The puja is performed by the Brahmin purahit, though. This deity is called sareshwar (ষাঁড়েশ্বর), he is one who has emerged out of the belly of a bull. My grandfather passed on the history to my father, and I have received it from him. This goes way back - 200 years or more. They had found this in the bull's dung. You can see it in the shrine right next to the thakurbari. 

This is the only one that survives in Kolkata. There are similar festivals that take place in Midnapore for instance, but those are not on the same scale as this one.

I ask him if it's not physically taxing - all this fasting and then the acrobatics.

No. We don't feel a thing, really. Even if we are fasting the whole day - if it is for Baba - nothing can hurt us. You won't be able to do it. This uttari that we wear - with our Baba's blessings - once we do wear it, we can't participate in the cremation rites, even if it is of your closest family members. Once you've taken sannyas. You have to discard the uttari if you want to get anywhere near the deceased body. I am sixty years old now. We owe it all to His blessings.

The young lad (he tells me he lives in Tollygunge) says that he too has learnt the mantra. They wish to preserve their ancestral legacy, in whatever limited way they can. I asked him if he is brave enough to fast before the performance. He looked sheepishly and confessed that he survives on sandesh. A brief video that I shot of one of the sannyasi-s performing.

(Excuse please a month's silence.)

Updates, or Filling a Few Gaps

I found a significant entry on Fenwick (about whom I had expressed curiosity earlier) in Samir Raychowdhury's Shābek Kolkatar Rastar Itihash (Kolkata: Puja Foundation, 1997).

Edward Fenwick was a fortune-hunter. After arriving in Calcutta in 1764 he found employment as a clerk with the Company. The following year he was sent to Midnapur. What he got embroiled in exactly is unknown, but for one reason or another, within a couple of years he was removed from the Treasury to the Secretary’s Office. In 1768 he was accused of passing on classified information to Mr. Bolt. Bolt wrote a book based on these facts. The allegation caused him to be sacked (Fort William and India House Letters, Vol. 5, 1767-69). After a fairly long period of joblessness he was re-employed in May 1772. His monthly salary was Rs 5. But the very next year he lost his job again. The few years of his life that can be marked off as happy were between 1775 and 1782. During this period he was a member of the Revenue Board and he was in charge of some logistics in the court of law. He was getting a salary of Rs 800 per month. Following this he joined the Provincial Council as the third member, and he was later promoted to the highest possible post in Dinajpur. He did not spend much time in Dinajpur. He was transferred to Calcutta. It was during this stay that he made his acquaintance with William Hickey. (My translation.)

The entry goes on to quote in Bangla translation from Hickey's memoirs, to which we can come later. I am paraphrasing from the same book: It appears that the Company of Cotton and Mayer used to outsource some work to Hickey, who made great profit by it. Soon the company entered naval trade with China and Malay, having purchased three ships, and having made Hickey their guarantor. Hickey learnt soon after that one of the ships had been lost at sea to a tempest and that the duo was planning a furtive escape from India. He went to court and got the two arrested. He also withdrew his signature from the guarantor's bond. Poor Fenwick arrived as the saviour and took his place. Meanwhile the said duo did make their escape, leaving Fenwick in what can only be described as a pickle. He found himself behind bars. Fenwick may also have entered into business with the Nawab of Arcot.

It was with the profits he made from these enterprises, augmented by the Company funds, that he tried to set up the Bazar. He is also to be thanked for setting up the roads that lead up to the Bazar. He was dismissed by the Company on 17 April 1795. He rapidly lost all his wealth and was rendered utterly destitute. The Company took pity on him and started giving him a small pension. In 1812 it was discovered that he had utterly lost his sanity, and the Company gave him the whole salary he was entitled to. He did not live much long after and the exact date of his death is not known.

A rather sad story there.The following is an excerpt from Memoirs of William Hickey edited by Alfred Spencer:

A fête-champetre announced as to be given by Mr. Edward Fenwick, a gentleman high in the Civil Service, entirely engaged the public attention and conversation during the greater part of the month of May. It was intended to be celebrated at his country house, situated upon the banks of the river, in Garden Reach, about five miles from Calcutta, which thentofore had been the property and place of residence of my esteemed friends Mr. and Mrs. Lacam. The gardens were to be brilliantly illuminated with many thousand coloured lamps; an eminent operator in fireworks had been brought down from Lucknow to display his talents; the company to appear in fancy dresses, those that chose it to wear masks. Ranges of tents were fixed in different parts of the gardens, wherein tables were laid covered with all the dainties the best French cooks could produce, for the accommodation of three hundred persons, besides which every room in the house was stored with refreshments of every sort and kind; different bands of martial music were stationed in several parts of the gardens, and also in the house, with appropriate and distinct performers for the dancers. The last two miles of the road were lighted up with a double row of lamps on each side, making every object clear as day. In short, nothing could exceed the splendour of the preparations for this rural entertainment.

You may want to look up the rest of Hickey's account of how he had gotten drunk at a party earlier that evening, and how he reached Fenwick's party completely sloshed, after an accident or two.

____

In other news, on my way to the West Bengal State Archives, I picked up from a College Street second-hand bookstore this Big Book with nice illustrations and photographs, titled Changing Visions, Lasting Images: Calcutta through 300 Years, edited by Pratapaditya Pal. There are several very interesting essays in the volume, including one on the Indo-American trade - which is something I am personally interested in because of my area of research. In an article by Siddhartha Ghosh, "Early Photography in Calcutta" I found a lovely photograph of the Sans Souci theatre (earlier mentioned). The caption reads: "The "Sans Souci" Theatre of Calcutta. c. 1840. Photo: Siddhartha Ghosh. The earliest known example of a daguerreotype picture taken in Calcutta, which has survived only as a reproduction."

Two bazars

In the City project, the area I am concentrating on is the market-place. I'm not sure what I'll have to say if you ask, 'so what about it?' I met this nice gentleman at the races (yes! more on that later) who offered to take me around a couple of markets today. We went to the Chitpur new bazar and to Galiff Street. The Chitpur new bazar belongs to the Mullicks who also own the Marble Palace, that was made by Raja Rajendra Mullick (1819-1887). My guide is related to the family in some way, I think. As for Galiff Street, I had heard stories of the pet trade, but seeing it and being there was more horrific than I had imagined it to be. Here are some photographs from today's excursion.

'Notun Bajar' at Chitpur

Fish market inside the Notun Bajar 

Man sitting at one of the entrances to the Fish market

Afternoon nap in the Vegetable courtyard 

Kartik yo!

The gentleman wearing the punjabi on the left is of the Mullick family.
He still comes to the market daily to look after the books.

And now we come to Galiff Street.

Galiff Street Market 

Fish

You can see a cock-fight or two if you're (un)lucky or if you are willing to sponsor
your very own. You can buy your own fighter cocks at around Rs 1500 a piece.

A trained rooster with its owner/trainer (not sure, though)

The whole picture

What struck me is how the idea of "Bird Lovers" is conflated with
the idea of owning or keeping as pet.  Open defiance.