If doubts were voiced by those opposed to annexation, then Knighton's book was the perfect answer. It was widely read (and reprinted within months), for it told people what they wanted to believe. It opened a window into the mysterious world of the Lucknow palace and the harem. It was praised by the influential Calcutta Review, which added a strong plea for annexation. Knighton showed that even as Nasir-ud-din Haider was promising reform to Bentinck, he was continuing his giddy round of pleasure and debauchery, orchestrated by the Barber. Why should the Company imagine that his cousin, Wajid Ali Shah, would behave any better?
Nasir-ud-din had admitted quite frankly that he loved the English, literally, by taking an English woman into his harem and by appearing frequently in English dress, surrounded by English companions. But in Company eyes the King's attachments were to the wrong kind of Englishman. There were bound to be scoundrels, of course, attracted to the rich Court and out to make as much money as they could in the shortest possible time. (The fact that many of the Company's own men had the same objective has not gone unremarked.)
The Barber, however, quickly became notorious. His ill fame and rumours of his immense influence at Court spread beyond Awadh and he was satirized by the Press. J. Low, the British Resident, reported as a painful duty 'that at palace suppers, guests have several times seen His Majesty dancing Country dances as the partner of Mr. Derusett! The latter dressed after some grotesque masquerade fashion, and His Majesty attired in the dress of a European Lady!!' There were, Low hinted darkly 'still more gross, indeed most shocking indecencies'. Early in 1837, the Asiatic Journal reported 'The barber, Derusett, has retired from the service of the King taking with him his Majesty's deep regret, and several lacs of rupees. The rest of the reptile tribe, the jeweller, the coachman etc. will migrate when they have nothing left to consume.' Derusett disap¬peared, a mythic figure, but he had played his part. The justification for annexation, if the British had needed one, was now clear.
No-one ever attempted to put Derusett's side of the story, though there was an odd little postscript in 1857, when he met the Magistrate of Fatehpur, Mr Sherer, and 'declared that [Knighton's] book was a pure romance, but he [Derusett] was too interested a party to be received as an impartial critic.'
Early in 1994 I learnt that relatives of George Harris Derusett were living in England and Canada, with some precious family possessions, including the Barber's Cash Book for the crucial years of 1835/6, when he was at the height of his power. There was also an exquisite Court suit of canary yellow silk, brocaded with silver work, made for his young son. Suddenly George stepped out of the pages of history and became a real person, a man who had returned to England with a fortune acquired in Lucknow, who speculated unwisely in a distillery and the new railway companies, and who was declared bankrupt in 1854. A flattering contemporary oil-painting of him exists, with his second family, in which he is playing an accordian. His ginger curls frame a well-rounded, shrewd face, and he wears a waistcoat of Indian fabric over his ample stomach. One photograph exists, taken in the early 1850s, showing a plump, tired looking man, still fashionably dressed, but with a mournful expression, perhaps due to illness or drink.
The Cash Book, which was generously loaned to me, noted every anna disbursed by Derusett, and every rupee received. It showed that Knighton had not exaggerated the extent of his influence at Court, even if his interpretation was open to question. There was also, tucked into the book, a pencil-written refutation by Derusett of Knighton's story. 'I have most carefully perused this book' he wrote, 'and most solemnly declare that the principle [sic] part of the scenes described never did take place, and those scenes described of a minor character are grossly exaggerated [sic] and moreover had the scenes described actually have occurred the author from shear debility alone could never have witnessed them'. Had this rebuttal been made in 1855, as soon as Knighton's book came out, and had Derusett been able to win over public opinion, the annexation debate may have taken a different turn. The Lucknow Court, shown in a more rational light, could have looked a little less like Sodom and Gomorrah (to which it had once been compared), and a lot more like a potential market for British goods. Trade might have preceded the flag in this case. Even if the catastrophic decision to move into Awadh had been merely delayed by a few months. I believe Derusett's voice deserves to be heard, a century and a half later.
