Born about 1750.—Died 1791.
IT is greatly to be regretted that of the life of this able and
adventurous traveller little is known, excepting that portion which was
spent in acquiring his reputation. He seems to have been born about the
year 1750. At the usual age he entered into the civil service of the
East India Company, and was appointed to fill the office of writer at
the Madras presidency. Here he gradually rose in the usual manner to
offices of trust and emolument until the year 1782, when he obtained
permission to visit his friends in England. Instead of adopting the
usual mode of returning by sea, he formed the hazardous design of
proceeding through the upper provinces of India, Afghanistân, and
Persia, into the Russian empire, and thence by sea to England.
Fully aware of the difficulties and dangers of the route, he made every
necessary preparation which could be effected in India, obtained bills
upon merchants in various cities on his road, and, still further to
ensure his safety, determined to adopt the Mohammedan character as soon
as he should quit the British territories. With these views he proceeded
to Calcutta in the spring of 1782, and, having remained some time at
that city, set out on the 23d of May on his journey up the country. His
mind was naturally full of those recent and memorable events which
established the British power in India; and he visited with peculiar
interest several of those fields where our countrymen had won their
bloody laurels, and shattered to pieces the mighty fabric of the Mogul
empire.
Having visited Burhampore, Moorshedabad, and other places celebrated in
the history of India, he on the 25th of June embarked in a boat on the
main branch of the Ganges. The river in this place was four miles broad,
and, being agitated by a strong wind, which threw the water into short
breaking waves, resembled an arm of the sea. The same evening he arrived
at Rajmahal. This place, which had lately been the principal city and
favourite residence of a powerful and opulent chief, was now reduced to
the condition of an insignificant town, which, but for its historical
importance, and the mounds of ruins interspersed among the modern
buildings, would have possessed but few claims to the attention of the
traveller. Forster, who, though by no means of a gloomy disposition, was
rather given to moralizing upon the wrecks of ancient grandeur,—a habit
which in a country like Hindostan may be easily indulged,—sauntered out
in the twilight among the ruined buildings upon the banks of the river,
where he found an old man employed in digging. With this remnant of the
past age, who happened to be more intelligent and communicative than
ordinary, he entered into conversation, and from him learned many
particulars of the history of Rajmahal. This spot, he observed, which he
was then cultivating, was the site of the _Nobet Ghah_, or music-hall,
of the old palace; and that within his recollection a capacious garden
had extended in front of his little enclosure, which the Ganges had now
swept away.
From Rajmahal he proceeded to Monghee, and from thence to Patna, where
he arrived on the 5th of July. This city, which, according to the
opinion of several modern geographers, occupies the site of the ancient
Palibothra, is still a spacious and populous place, enriched by its
opium and saltpetre manufactories. Being here, he could not resist the
desire to visit the spot on which a number of English prisoners were
massacred in 1763, by order of Cassim Ali, then retreating before our
army. The sanguinary command was executed by Sumroo, a German. A
monument, but without any inscription, has been erected on the place.
On the 26th of July he arrived at Benares, a city which, for its wealth,
costly buildings, and the number of its inhabitants, was considered the
first then remaining in the possession of the Hindoos. Hither the
professors of the confused and intricate, but frequently sublime,
theology of Brahma had retired from all parts of Hindostan as the most
holy spot on earth. Being conversant with the language necessary for the
conducting of such researches, Forster devoted the time spent at Benares
in endeavouring to penetrate, as far as a stranger was permitted, into
the mysteries of Brahminism. This subject, after all the researches
which have been made by Europeans, is still enveloped in much obscurity.
It is not known whether, commencing in the grossest polytheism, the
sages of Hindostan gradually elevated their minds to the knowledge of
one supreme and invisible God, or, commencing with this simple and
sublime truth, degenerated into polytheism and idolatry. The latter is
the prevalent theory. It is thought more rational to imagine, that while
in every other department of knowledge mankind proceeded from the less
to the greater, and by constant exercise improved their mind, the only
instrument which man possesses for measuring the universe, their
progress in theology, if I may so express myself, has in general been
retrograde, at least in Hindostan. Forster was of this opinion. “There
is reason,” he says, “to believe, that in the more early periods of
time, before the priests of the Hindoos had found it expedient, for the
firmer establishment of their sway over the minds of the people, to
raise a huge superstructure of emblematical worship, the temples erected
to the Supreme Being were plain and void of personification. The remains
of one of these are now to be seen on the summit of a hill near the city
of Kashmere, which, according to tradition, had been dedicated to the
Creator of the world. In this the prayers of those who entered were
addressed to the Deity, without supplicating the intercession of any
intermediate agent, nor had any image or symbol of the Divine Power a
place.” He was likewise informed that at Chillambram, about twenty miles
southward of Cuddalore, there was another Hindoo religious edifice,
plain, and without any interior figure, which was devoted to the worship
of the “Invisible God,” and was never approached but with tokens of
profound awe and reverence.
The foundation upon which this theory, which is totally at variance with
the history of human nature, has been erected, it is not difficult to
discover. In the most remote and barbarous ages of the world, as in all
other times, some few men of superior intellect and genius arose, to
whom profound meditation and an ardent desire of truth revealed the
unity of the Divine nature. These men, perhaps, uniting eloquence with
the enthusiasm of virtue, became the nucleus of a small sect of pure
worshippers, erected temples to the true God, and laboured to transmit
the light of truth to posterity. But these could never have been more in
those times than feeble points of light in the thick moral darkness
which brooded over the globe; and although their temples and the
tradition of their creed may in some instances have been preserved, it
would be an abuse of common sense to infer from their enlightenment a
general diffusion of knowledge in their times, in opposition to
innumerable monuments attesting their extreme ignorance and debasement.
It is not my intention, however, to follow Mr. Forster in his inquiries,
which are curious and liberal, into the mythology and philosophy of the
Hindoos. The subject has been discussed by others, whose advantages and
acquirements I am very far from possessing; and although I am not on all
occasions satisfied with the explanations of Sir William Jones or Mr.
Colebrook, I should, even with the aid of our ingenious traveller,
despair of carrying light into the works which they have left in
obscurity.
Having spent three months in conversing with the Brahmins, and
endeavouring to see his way through the obscure mazes of their religious
system, Forster set out on the 3d of November on an excursion to
Bijjighur, a place rendered famous, he observes, in the Bengal annals,
from a large amount of plunder acquired there by the English. His first
day’s journey brought him to Luttufghur, about eighteen miles south of
Benares. The fort, situated in the centre of a circular range of hills,
and approached on all sides through a dense and lofty forest, was now
deserted, and the passages leading to it were nearly choked up with
trees. The circulation of the air being greatly impeded by the hills and
woods, the atmosphere had acquired a malignant quality, which, exerting
its influence on all animal bodies, produced what in India is termed the
hill-fever. In all places of this kind, as, for example, at the southern
foot of the Gurwal and Kemaoon mountains, the water partakes of the
baneful quality of the air, by which in part it seems to be impregnated
with its pestiferous properties, which may, however, be aggravated by
the continual falling of branches and leaves into the rivulets and
reservoirs.
In this desolate and deserted spot, where the elements array themselves
in properties so hostile to life, our traveller found a Mohammedan
fakeer, who had taken up his lonely residence at the gate of the fort.
He was meager, wan, and nearly consumed by the effects of fever and
ague; but when he was advised to leave so melancholy a situation, and go
to some other place where he might recover his health, he replied, that
he preferred an existence where he was, though under a load of misery,
to the chance of starving in districts where he should be wholly
unknown.
The view from the fort of Bijjighur, where he arrived next day, is
highly diversified and magnificent; but when you throw the eye on the
deep and rugged precipice beneath, the prospect is infinitely grand,
though not divested of that horror which naturally affects the mind when
contemplating objects from so abrupt a height. The rising and setting
sun here exhibits a magnificent scene, and excites a train of ideas
strongly impressed with a grateful admiration of the First Cause of
nature. The view of the setting sun takes in the river Saone, which is
seen winding its stream, brightened by the rays of the western light,
through a long tract of diversified country. A fort also appears on the
side of a distant hill, which is only brought out in the evening
prospect.
Returning from thence to Benares, he assumed for his greater safety the
name of a Georgian, and on the 12th of December set out for Allahabad.
On this road, and indeed on almost every other in India, the traveller
seldom fails meeting with a public lodging or a reservoir of water,
where he may perform his ablutions and quench his thirst. In every
respectable village there is a caravansary, of which the stationary
tenants are frequently women, some of whom are very pretty. These
approach the traveller on his entrance, and in alluring language
describe the various excellences of their several lodgings; and when the
choice is made, which, says Forster, is often perplexing, so many are
the inducements thrown out on all sides, a bed is laid out for his
repose, a smoking-pipe is brought, and the utensils are cleansed for
preparing his repast.
From Allahabad he went on to Lucknow, the capital of the kingdom of
Oude, a large but irregular and filthy city, which contains little
worthy the notice of a traveller. Here he remained some time, however,
and then proceeded through the Delhi province to Rampoor, near the foot
of the Kemaoon hills. On setting out from this town he enjoyed a
complete view of the Himalaya mountains, covered with eternal snows, and
forming the boundary between Hindostan and Tibet.
On arriving at Najebabad, a town built by Najeb ud Dowlah to facilitate
the commerce of Kashmere, he found that the only caravansary in the
place was occupied, and thought himself fortunate in being admitted into
a cook’s shop, where kabobs and beefsteaks were dressed in savoury taste
for the public. A better place for observing the manners of the people
he could scarcely have chosen. It was what a coffee-house is in London,
the resort of all the newsmongers, idlers, politicians, and disbanded
soldiers of the district. Here, while he was eating his dinner, he saw a
boy enter, who inquired whether there were any travellers going to
Kashmere or Jummoo, as the kafilah would depart next day. Upon inquiry,
he found that this kafilah consisted of about one hundred mules laden
with raw silk, cotton cloths, and ordinary calicoes for the Jummoo
markets. By a banker, to whom he had been furnished with a letter, he
was introduced to the merchants of the kafilah, who readily received him
into their company. He now dropped the character of a Georgian, and
represented himself as a Turkish merchant going into Kashmere to
purchase shawls. To accompany him in this journey he hired a Kashmerian
servant, “a fellow of infinite jest,” whose memory was stored with a
thousand stories, every one of which he embellished in the telling of
it. He was otherwise an active and excellent servant.
With this kafilah he left Najebabad on the 14th of February, 1783, and
on the 15th arrived at Lolldong, where the province of Delhi is
separated from that of Serinagur, or Gurwal, by a small rivulet. On the
north of this rivulet the kafilah now encamped, and each of its members
was soon busily engaged in preparing for their journey through the
forest, which it was computed would occupy three days. The extreme heat
of the weather rendering a tent or some substitute for one absolutely
necessary, Forster purchased a large black kummul or blanket, which,
being slantingly extended over a slight bamboo frame, composed of a
ridge-pole upheld by two supporters, and fastened below by small pins,
formed a commodious and portable lodging. His baggage, consisting of a
thin mattress, a quilt, a canvass portmanteau containing a few changes
of linen, which served for a pillow, together with the kummul, was
stowed behind him upon his horse. The Kashmerian followed on foot.
Leaving Lolldong on the 22d, they began to ascend the mountains. Next
day, as they continued their march through the forest, Forster, overcome
by fatigue, sat down under a tree to enjoy his pipe; but while he was
thus engaged, having apparently sunk into that dreaming state which
smoking sometimes induces, the kafilah moved on and disappeared. The
ground being thickly covered with leaves, no trace of a road was
discernible; and when he mounted to proceed, his horse, either terrified
by the effluvia of wild beasts lurking among the trees, or perceiving
the embarrassment of their situation, could with difficulty be made to
proceed in any direction. However, he was at length forcibly put in
motion; but after traversing the forest in various directions, without
perceiving either road or habitation, or the vestige of any creature,
except great quantities of elephants’ dung, he discovered a narrow path
leading through a wilderness to a small valley, whose inhabitants kindly
conducted him to the halting-place of the kafilah.
In two days they arrived on the banks of the Ganges, twelve miles above
Hardwar. It was here about two hundred yards broad, from ten to fifteen
feet deep, and rolled along rapidly through gloomy forests or barren
flats. The woods in these parts abounded with wild peacocks. On the 6th
of March he crossed the Jumma, which here equalled the Ganges in
breadth; both, however, were at their lowest ebb. The scenery all the
way from Lolldong to the Ganges is woody, mountainous, and picturesque;
and the principal game are wild elephants, which are hunted merely for
their tusks. Before them, to the north, was the vast snowy range of the
Himalaya, among the inaccessible pinnacles of which the Hindoo has
placed the heaven of India. Among the roots of this Indian Olympus,
which stretch out their rough huge masses far into the plains below,
affording safe haunts for tigers and banditti, the kafilah toiled along,
continually ascending, towards Kashmere.
On the 20th of March they arrived at Bellaspoor, on the frontiers of the
Punjâb, or country of the five rivers. Here they remained three days,
when, growing weary of attending the slow motions of the caravan, our
traveller, with his servant and another Kashmerian, pushed forward,
crossed the Sutlej, and on the 25th arrived at the camp of the Rannee of
Bellaspoor, then engaged in war with the chief of Kangrah. The
encampment of these rude soldiers was a curious spectacle. Eight
thousand foot and three hundred horse, armed with matchlocks, swords,
spears, and clubs, were huddled together in extreme confusion on two
sides of a hill, under small sheds composed of the boughs of trees. Four
ordinary tents, the only ones in the camp, afforded shelter to the
general and the principal officers.
Forster now learned that his progress towards the enemy’s army, unless
accompanied by an escort, would be attended with much danger; and he
accordingly applied for the necessary protection to the
commander-in-chief, whom he found sitting under a banyan-tree,
surrounded by a number of naked officers, and reviewing some new levies
who had just come in from the woods. These wild recruits, hitherto
accustomed to a life of licentious freedom, appeared to be so many
members of the fawn and satyr family, so fierce were their looks, so
rude their costume. On explaining his desires to the general, he
obtained a promise to be allowed to accompany the first messenger who
should be despatched to the Kangrah camp.
However, our traveller was shortly afterward delivered from the
necessity of depending on the protection of this uncouth mountaineer by
the arrival of a drove of asses laden with iron, which was pursuing the
route to Kashmere. To this party he now joined himself, and, bidding
adieu to the rannee’s army, he proceeded towards that of the Kangrah
chief, which, after plundering the ironmongers of a considerable sum,
and putting the whole body in great terror, affected to treat them with
civility. In this army there was a large detachment of Sikh horsemen,
and it was them that Forster, who well understood their licentious
manners and habits of plundering, principally dreaded. At this moment,
therefore, he would willingly have sacrificed the moiety of his property
to ensure the remainder. But there was no retreating; they were already
in sight; so, assuming to the best of his ability an air of confidence
and ease, he boldly advanced into the midst of these formidable
marauders. “Imagining our approach,” says he, “to be that of the enemy,
the Sikhs were preparing for the fight, to which they loudly exclaimed,
in the tone of religious ejaculation, that their prophet had summoned
them. In token of respect I had dismounted, and was leading my horse,
when a Sikh, a smart fellow, mounted on an active mare, touched me in
passing. The high-mettled animal, whether in contempt of me or my horse,
perhaps of both, attacked us fiercely from the rear, and in the assault,
which was violent, the Sikh fell to the ground. The action having
commenced on the top of a hill, he rolled with great rapidity to the
bottom of it, and in his way down left behind him his matchlock, sword,
and turban. So complete a derangement I feared would have irritated the
whole Sikh body; but on evincing the show of much sorrow for the
disaster, and having assiduously assisted in investing the fallen
horseman with his scattered appurtenances, I received general thanks.”
It was about the middle of April when Forster arrived at Jummoo, where,
being supposed to be a merchant from whom some advantage might be
derived, he was received by a Kashmerian with truly oriental expressions
of welcome. Upon a banker in this city he had a bill for a considerable
amount; but on examining it he found, that having been frequently soaked
by the rain, and by his having fallen into a river on the way, the folds
adhered together as if they had been pasted. However, the banker
contrived, by steeping it in water, to decipher its import, and at once
paid the money; though its shattered condition might have afforded him a
sufficient pretext for delay. Being thus furnished with cash, our
traveller began to think of enjoying the pleasures of Jummoo.
The trade and consequent wealth of this city arose from the insecurity
of the road through Lahore, occasioned by the invasion of the Sikhs,
which caused merchants to prefer this tedious and difficult but secure
route. All articles of merchandise constituting the trade between
Kashmere and Jummoo are transported by men, principally Kashmerians, who
carry their extremely heavy burdens, two of which are considered a load
for a strong mule, upon their back, as a soldier does his knapsack. When
he desires to rest, the porter places under his pack a kind of short
crutch, which he uses in walking. “The shawls, when exported from
Kashmere, are packed in an oblong bale containing a certain weight or
quantity, which in the language of the country is termed a _biddery_,
the outward covering of which is a buffalo or ox’s hide, strongly sewed
with leather thongs. As these packages are supposed to amount, with
little variation, to a value long since ascertained, they are seldom
opened until conveyed to the destined market.”
On the 17th of April he set out on foot from Jummoo, accompanied by a
Kashmerian servant. The roads were steep and rocky; and not having been
much accustomed to travelling on foot, he soon found that it would be
necessary to proceed more slowly. His feet, in fact, like Bruce’s in the
desert of Nubia, were so severely bruised and excoriated, that he walked
with extreme pain and difficulty; though, somewhat to assuage his
sufferings, he had carefully wrapped them round with bandages steeped in
oil. However, the cool bracing air of the mountains, united with a
feeling of security, and the certainty of finding commodious lodgings
and a good supper at night, prevented his spirits from sinking; and
still further to invigorate his resolution, fancy ever and anon placed
before his mind the rich smiling landscapes and sparkling streams of
Kashmere.
After a tedious and harassing journey of ten days, they reached on the
26th the summit of a lofty mountain, from whence he enjoyed the first
glimpse of Kashmere. He now travelled in the suite of a Mohammedan rhan,
with whom he had fallen in on the road; and this gentleman being a
native of the country, and held everywhere in the highest esteem, he
enjoyed the rare privilege of passing the custom-house untaxed and
unmolested. He therefore entered with an unsoured temper into the
paradise of Hindostan, where the face of nature exhibited all those
features whose tendency it is to call up in the mind images of
cheerfulness and pleasure. “The road from Vere Nang,” says Forster,
“leads through a country exhibiting that store of luxuriant imagery
which is produced by a happy disposition of hill, dale, wood, and water;
and that these rare excellences of nature might be displayed in their
full glory, it was the season of spring, when the trees, the apple, the
pear, the peach, the apricot, the cherry, and mulberry, bore a
variegated load of blossom. The clusters also of the red and white rose,
with an infinite class of flowering shrubs, presented a view so gayly
decked, that no extraordinary warmth of imagination was required to
fancy that I stood at least on a province of fairy land.”
It is in such regions as these, and not in our northern climates, that
the month of May is a season of beauty. The plains, dotted with numerous
villages, and intersected by small rivers, were already waving with a
rich harvest; while every copse and woody knoll gave shelter to
innumerable singing-birds, whose notes made the whole atmosphere appear
alive with music. Having reached Pamper, our traveller embarked in a
boat on the Jylum, and proceeded by water to the city of Serinagur,
which, with its houses covered with parterres of beautiful flowers,
possesses at a distance a splendid and imposing aspect, answering in
some degree to the idea which the historians of the flourishing days of
India have given of it. But on entering the streets the illusion is
quickly dissipated. Slaves are invariably filthy in their habits, and
the people of Kashmere are now the slaves of the Afghans.
One of the principal beauties of this magnificent valley is its lake, a
sheet of water five or six miles in circumference, interspersed with
numerous small islands, and surrounded in its whole extent by shores
singularly picturesque and romantic. We have already given, in the life
of Bernier, some account of Serinagur and its environs; but it may be
interesting to add here the picture of the Shalimar, which our traveller
drew upon the spot nearly one hundred and fifty years after, when the
power of the Moguls had passed away, and their palaces become the haunts
of tenants more destructive than the owls and serpents of Babylon. “In
the centre of the plain,” says he, “as it approaches the lake, one of
the Delhi emperors constructed a spacious garden called the Shalimar,
which is abundantly stored with fruit-trees and flowering shrubs. Some
of the rivulets which intersect the plain are led into a canal at the
back of the garden, and, flowing through its centre, or occasionally
thrown into a variety of water-works, compose the chief beauty of the
Shalimar. To decorate this spot the Mogul princes of India have
displayed equal magnificence and taste, especially Jehangheer, who, with
the enchanting Moormahal, made Kashmere his usual residence during the
summer months, and largely contributed to improve its natural
advantages. On arches thrown over the canal are erected, at equal
distances, four or five suites of apartments, each consisting of a
saloon, with four rooms at the angles, where the followers of the court
attend, and the servants prepare sherbets, coffee, and the hookah. The
frame of the doors of the principal saloon is composed of pieces of
stone of a black colour, streaked with yellow lines, and of a closer
grain and higher polish than porphyry. They were taken, it is said, from
a Hindoo temple by one of the Mogul princes, and are esteemed of great
value. The canal of the Shalimar is constructed of masonry as far as the
lower pavilion, from whence the stream is conveyed through a bed of
earth, in the centre of an avenue of spreading trees, to the lake,
which, with other streams of less note, it supplies and refreshes.”
The environs of the city are adorned with private gardens. Here, and
throughout the whole valley, the oriental plane-tree is carefully
cultivated, and arrives at greater perfection than in any other country.
It commonly attains the size of an oak, and, with its straight taper
stem, silver bark, and pale-green leaf resembling an expanded hand, is,
when in full foliage, a splendid and beautiful tree, and affords a
grateful and refreshing shade. But the chief glory of Kashmere is its
rose, of all the vegetable world the most exquisite production,
unrivalled for its brilliancy and delicacy of odour, and yielding an
essential oil, or attar, in comparison with which all other perfumes are
as dross. The season when the rose first opens into blossom is
celebrated as a festival by the inhabitants of the valley, who,
repairing in crowds to the surrounding gardens, give loose to their
passions, and riot in every species of licentious rejoicing.
But the wealth and fame of Kashmere have been chiefly derived from the
manufacture of shawls, unrivalled for their fineness and beauty. The
wool, or rather down, from which they are fabricated is not the growth
of the country, but brought from districts of the high table-land of
Tibet, a month’s journey to the north-east, where alone the shawl-goat
will properly thrive. Various attempts have been made by the emperors of
Hindostan and the kings of Persia to introduce this species of goat into
their dominions; but the wool has always been found to be of an inferior
quality. The French have lately imitated the examples of the Mogul and
Persian sovereigns, and they may no doubt succeed in procuring a coarse
kind of wool from which very useful shawls may be manufactured; but it
may without much rashness be predicted, that in the attempt to rival the
shawls of Kashmere they will inevitably fail, since no part of France is
sufficiently analogous to the lofty plains of Tibet to afford the
shawl-goat an exactly similar position with respect to climate, water,
and food. Of all imitations that of the Persians, from the wool of
Kerman, is said to approach most nearly to the shawl of Kashmere.
The wool, when imported, is of a dark-gray colour, and is bleached in
Kashmere by means of a certain preparation of rice-flour. The whitest
down, which is said to be brought from Rodank, is reckoned the best, and
sells in the valley from ten to twenty rupees the turruk, about twelve
pounds. No exact estimate of the number of shawls manufactured in the
year can be made. There are said to be about sixteen thousand looms,
each occupying three men, employed; and supposing, with a contemporary
author, that five shawls on an average are made annually to each loom,
the total number would amount to eighty thousand. The shop of the
weavers consists of a kind of framework, at which the workmen sit on a
wooden bench. Two persons are employed on the plainest shawls, and the
number is sometimes doubled. The shuttle made use of is long, narrow,
and heavy. When the pattern of the shawl is variegated, the flowers of
figures are worked with wooden needles, there being a separate one for
every different-coloured thread; and in such cases the operation is
exceedingly slow.
“The _oostand_, or head-workman,” says Hamilton, “superintends, while
his journeymen are employed near him, under his directions. If they have
any new pattern in hand, or one with which they are not familiar, he
describes to them the figure, colour, and threads that are to be used,
while he keeps before him the pattern on which they happen to be
employed drawn on paper. During the operation the rough side of the
shawl is uppermost on the frame, notwithstanding which the head-workman
never mistakes the regularity of the most finished patterns. A shop may
be occupied with one shawl above a year, provided it be a remarkably
fine one, while other shops make six or eight in the course of that
time. Of the best and most noted sorts not so much as a quarter of an
inch is completed in one day by three persons, which is the usual number
employed. Shawls containing much work are made in separate pieces at
different shops; and it may be observed, that it very rarely happens,
when the pieces are completed, that they correspond in size.”
Forster was much disappointed in the women of Kashmere. They were
handsome brunettes, but by no means endowed with that extreme beauty or
elegance of form which has been attributed to them by other travellers.
It is probable, however, that since the period of the Afghan invasion,
which introduced into the country a rabble of adventurers from Kabul and
the neighbouring regions, the race may have been deteriorated by a
mixture with these ill-favoured foreigners; and that poverty, compelling
them to have recourse to inferior food, and inducing habits of filth and
a general squalidness, may have considerably aided in producing this
result. In fertility they have by no means degenerated. Their families
are numerous, whether poor or rich,—a circumstance which our traveller,
who participated in Montesquieu’s opinion respecting the fecundity of
all ichthyophagi, partly attributes to the great abundance of fish in
their lakes and rivers.
During his stay in this country he was much alarmed at the suspicions of
a Georgian, who, on observing the form of his head, which he averred was
too flat at the top to be that of a Mohammedan, declared him at once to
be a Christian. Forster, understanding that this man possessed an estate
at Benares, in order to check his indiscretion or impertinence,
disclosed to him his true story, informing him at the same time,
however, that should any evil arise from his treachery or want of
discretion, his estate would be confiscated, and the person of his
commercial partner residing in the British territories exposed to
punishment.
This circumstance, together with an increasing disgust at the character
of the people, induced Forster to hasten as much as possible his
departure from Kashmere. But this was a measure not easily effected. No
person could leave the province without a passport from the governor,
who, when this document was applied for, observed, that the Turks were
good soldiers, and that as he just then happened to be in want of men,
he would employ the traveller in his army. Forster now began to perceive
that his Turkish character, which had hitherto procured him respect, was
likely to advance him to a post of honour which he had very little
ambition to occupy. One agent after another was employed to obtain the
passport from the governor, a ferocious and sanguinary Afghan, who, like
Charles IX. of France, shot men for his amusement; and at length, by
dint of unremitted perseverance and a trifling bribe, the selfsame
Georgian who had conjectured his religion from the form of his scull,
with a sagacity which would have done honour to Dr. Gall himself,
contrived to deliver him from the honour intended him by Azad Khan, and
obtain the tyrant’s permission for his leaving the country.
Fearful lest the khan should alter his determination, and transform him,
whether he would or not, into a trooper, he took into his service a
Persian boy, hired a horse of a native of Peshawer, who was returning to
that city, and on the 11th of June set out from Kashmere. His evil
genius, in the form of vanity, had suggested to him the propriety of
adorning his person with a gaudy red coat, in the pocket of which he
deposited his passport. This showy garment, which no doubt excited the
envy of many an Afghan beau, on the second day of his journey was
snatched by a thief from his bed just as he was awaking, who, in spite
of every obstacle, succeeded in bearing off his plunder. Not having
passed the frontiers, he began to apprehend that a return to the capital
might be necessary; but found, upon trial, that his Indian gold was
considered every whit as good as Azad Khan’s written permission.
The scenery through which his road now lay was of a magnificent
description, mountainous, rocky, savage, gloomy; forests below, snowy
pinnacles above, with here and there a torrent bursting and dashing
through rocky chasms with the noise of thunder. The path, impassable to
horses, which were sent by another route, wound round the projections of
the mountains, and sometimes consisted of a floor of planks laid over
beams which were driven into the cliff. The rivers were crossed in
baskets slung upon ropes, or on sheep’s or dogs’ skins inflated, and
placed under the breast, while the traveller impelled himself forward by
the motion of his feet. In other places a sort of bridge was formed in
the following manner:—A stout rope, fastened to wooden posts on either
shore sustained a number of carved pieces of wood resembling oxen-yokes,
with forks placed vertically. The sides of these yokes being embraced by
smaller ropes afforded a hold to the passengers.
On the 10th of July they crossed the Indus, about twenty miles above the
town of Attock. “The stream,” says Forster, “though not agitated by
wind, was rapid, with a rough undulating motion, and about
three-quarters of a mile or a mile in breadth where it was not
interrupted by islands, and having, as nearly as I could judge, a
west-and-by-south course. The water was much discoloured by a fine black
sand, which, when put into a vessel, quickly subsided. It was so cold
from, I apprehend, a large mixture of snow then thawed by the summer
heats, that in drinking it my teeth suffered a violent pain. In our boat
were embarked seventy persons, with much merchandise and some horses.
This unwieldy lading, the high swell of the current, and the confusion
of the frightened passengers made the passage dangerous and very
tedious.”
Next day, having crossed the Attock or Kabul river, they arrived at
Akora, where Forster entered a spacious cool mosque to escape the
intense heat of the sun, spread his bed, and laid himself down quite at
his ease. Here he remained until the time of evening prayer, when he was
summoned by the moollah, or priest, to prepare himself for the ceremony.
Persons who adopt a fictitious character commonly overact their part,
and thus frequently render themselves liable to suspicion; but Forster’s
error lay on the other side, which was perhaps the safer; for, although
it drew upon him the charge of negligence, it by no means disposed his
associates to regard him as an infidel, their own practice too generally
corresponding with his own. In the present case, upon his excusing
himself from performing the accustomed prayer on account of the
debilitated state of his body, the moollah replied, with extreme
contempt, that it was the more necessary to pray, in order to obtain
better health. The honest Mohammedan, however, like the priests of
Æsculapius in Aristophanes, used, it seems, to make the tour of the
mosque at midnight, and compel his miserly brethren to perform an act of
charity in their sleep, by disposing of a part of their substance for
the benefit of the establishment. From our traveller the contribution
attempted to be levied was his turban; but happening unluckily to be
awake, he caught the holy marauder by the arm, and demanded who was
there. The poor man, utterly disconcerted at this unseasonable
wakefulness, replied, in a faltering voice, that he was the moollah of
the mosque,—the same man, apparently, who had so rudely reprehended the
stranger for his neglect of prayer.
On the morrow a body of Afghan cavalry encamped in the environs of
Akora. This event spread no less terror and consternation through the
country than if a hostile army had suddenly made an incursion into it;
for the licentious soldiery, devouring and destroying like a swarm of
locusts wherever they appeared, conducted themselves with insufferable
insolence towards the inhabitants. It must be observed, however, in
mitigation of the enormity of their transactions, that they are in a
measure compelled to subsist themselves and their horses in this manner;
for their ignorant and unreflecting sovereign, in need of their service,
but unwilling to reward them, suffers them in peaceful times to be
reduced to such distress, that they are frequently constrained to sell
their horses, arms, and even apparel, to purchase a morsel of bread.
In three days from this they arrived at Peshawer, a large, populous, and
opulent city, founded by the great Akbar. Of all the places visited by
our traveller in Northern India, none appeared to suffer so intense a
heat as this city; but by skirting round the northern limits of the
Punjâb he avoided Lahore, where he would probably have found an
atmosphere equally heated with that of Peshawer. Other cities, he
observes, may be afflicted with a too-great warmth; hot winds blowing
over tracts of sand may drive their inhabitants under the shelter of a
wetted screen; but here the air, during the middle of summer, becomes
almost inflammable. Yet, notwithstanding this burning atmosphere, the
inhabitants enjoy exceedingly good health, and are but little liable to
epidemical disorders. This fact may easily be accounted for. The air of
Peshawer, like that of the deserts of Arabia, in which the finest
Damascus blades may be exposed all night without contracting the
slightest rust, is extremely dry; and it would appear that heat, however
intense, is not, when free from humidity, at all subversive of health.
Another circumstance greatly tended to increase the salubrity of this
city; provisions were excellent and abundant, especially the mutton, the
flesh of the large-tailed sheep, said to have been first discovered in
South America.
There being no caravansary at Peshawer, Forster took up his residence in
an old mosque, where he continued several days, melting in perpetual
perspiration. While at Kashmere he had converted a part of his property
into a bill of five hundred rupees on Kabul, which, in order to secure
it from rain and other accidents, he enclosed in a canvass belt which he
wore as a girdle. On examining the condition of this bill some days
after his arrival in this city, he found that the writing had been so
entirely obliterated by perspiration that no one could read, or even
conjecture its subject, as from beginning to end it was literally black.
The discovery much disquieted his mind, as he began to be apprehensive
he might be reduced to want money on his journey. But his temperament
was sanguine; and in order to afford melancholy as slender an opening as
possible, he flew into society and laughed away his cares.
Still, the apprehension of a diminution in his finances rendered him
anxious to proceed; and meeting with a man with whom he had travelled
during the early part of his journey, it was agreed they should move on
together, unite their means, and protect each other. On inquiring into
the state of his companion’s finances, it appeared that he possessed in
cash one rupee, on which himself, a boy, and a horse were to be
subsisted until his arrival at Kabul, a journey of twelve or fourteen
days. As it seemed clear that when this extraordinary fund should be
expended the Mohammedan would apply to Forster, the latter, aware of the
inconvenience and danger to which a disclosure of the real amount of his
property might expose him, pretended to be but little richer, and
producing three rupees, the whole was considered common stock; and his
companion, with a face brightened by faith and zeal, exhorted him to be
of good cheer, for that true believers were never deserted in the hour
of need.
In company with this cheerful Islamite he departed from Peshawer, and,
uniting themselves to a kafilah proceeding in the same direction, they
pushed forward towards the west. During the second day’s march he
discovered that rashness is not always a mark of valour; for, advancing
before the kafilah with about thirty horsemen, who all appeared by their
whiskers to be men of desperate courage, they were met and plundered by
a small body of Afghans, who seemed no way disturbed when the larger
body of the kafilah appeared in sight, but slowly retreated with their
booty.
During this part of the journey it was for many reasons judged expedient
by the leaders of the kafilah to travel by night. But if they by this
means diminished the danger of falling a prey to the plundering Afghans,
they found in return that they had other perils to encounter; for,
boisterous weather having come on, and the rain descending in torrents,
every hollow of the mountains became the bed of a torrent, which,
rushing down impetuously through its steep channel, rolled along stones
of a vast size with a noise which, in the stillness of night, resembled
thunder. The sky, meanwhile, was overcast with black clouds; and the
roaring of the torrents heard on all sides created in the mind of the
traveller a certain horror mingled with awe, and disposed him
involuntarily to consider this grand scene of nature with sentiments of
profound reverence.
On approaching one of these mountain streams, which had been greatly
swelled by the recent rains, the commander of the kafilah escort, who
was accompanied by one of his favourite women, placed her on a powerful
horse, and, that she might not be incommoded by the crowd, attempted to
convey her over first; but she had no sooner entered the water than she
was carried off among the black whirling eddies of the current, and
drowned. The Mohammedan, thus suddenly deprived of his mistress, at once
forgot all thoughts of resignation to the decrees of fate, and, throwing
himself upon the ground in the bitterness of his affliction, lamented
his loss like a giaour. This melancholy event occasioned the immediate
halt of the whole kafilah, the tragical fate of the lady having
impressed their minds with a salutary terror. Next morning, on searching
along the margin of the torrent, the body was found covered with mud,
and was interred upon the spot with such ceremonies as time and place
permitted. The kafilah then crossed the stream, and continued its march.
The road now lay through a black and desolate track, scooped into
hollows by torrents, or yawning with natural chasms. It next entered a
wide plain well watered and interspersed with walled villages, in the
midst of which stands Kabul, the capital of the Afghan empire, where
they arrived safely on the evening of the 2d of August. Here Forster
took up his abode with a Georgian named Bagdasir, to whom he had brought
a letter of introduction from his countryman in Kashmere. To this man,
as to the person most likely to render him aid in such an affair, he
showed his bill for five hundred rupees; but when it was found that not
one single letter in it was legible, the man shook his head, as well he
might, and predicted that no one would be found to discount it. However,
after application had in vain been made in every other quarter, Bagdasir
himself purchased the bill for half its real amount, which, its
extraordinary condition being considered, was fully as much as it was
worth.
Not many days after his arrival at Kabul our traveller was seized by a
malignant fever, which for several days menaced him with a much longer
journey than the one he had undertaken. Hot and cold fits succeeded each
other with singular violence; he was tormented by insatiable thirst,
and, as he endeavoured to quench this by the constant drinking of cold
water, a most profuse perspiration was maintained, which probably saved
his life. His whole body was covered with spots of a very bright colour,
shaded between purple and crimson, which he should have beheld, he says,
with pleasure, supposing that such an eruption would diminish the force
of the disease, but that some of his neighbours regarded them as signs
of the plague. This created a general alarm, and they were about to
exclude him from their quarter, when he confidently asserted that the
fever of the plague always produced its crisis in three days, whereas
his had now continued seven; which, together with the conduct of
Bagdasir, who never deserted him, somewhat assuaged their terrors, and
induced them to suffer his presence. His disorder continued three weeks,
and at length, when it disappeared, left him so weak that he could with
difficulty crawl about the streets.
The religious toleration which prevailed at Kabul, where Turk, Jew, and
Christian lived equally unmolested, induced him in an evil hour to throw
off his Mohammedan disguise and profess himself a Christian; not
considering, that however tolerant the Afghans of this capital might be,
the remainder of his road, until he should reach the Caspian, lay among
bigots of the most desperate stamp, who regarded the professors of all
heterodox religions with abhorrence, and reckoned it a merit to revile
and persecute them.
Having remained a full month at Kabul, he hired one side of a camel, on
which a pannier was suspended for his accommodation, and on the 1st of
September joined a party proceeding to Kandahar. The mode of travelling
which he had now adopted is peculiar to that part of the world, and
deserves to be particularly described. The camel appropriated to the
service of passengers, he observes, carries two persons, who are lodged
in a kind of pannier laid loosely on the back of the animal. The
pannier, in Persian _kidjahwah_, is a wooden frame, with the sides and
bottom of netted cords, of about three feet long and two broad. The
depth likewise is generally about two feet. The provisions of the
passengers are conveyed in the kidjahwah, and, the journey being
commonly performed in the night, this swinging nest becomes his only
place of rest; for on the kafilah’s arrival at its station he must
immediately exert himself in procuring provisions, water, and fuel, as
well as in keeping an eye over his property.
Forster soon found reason to regret his ill-timed abjuration of the
prophet. The camel upon which he was stowed like a bale of merchandise
was the worst conditioned of the whole drove; and to comfort him during
his ride, a shrill-tongued old woman and a crying child took up their
quarters in the opposite pannier, and contrived, the one by shrieking,
the other by scolding, effectually to chase away his dreams. An old
Afghan lady, with a very handsome daughter and two grandchildren,
occupied the panniers of another camel. The rest were loaded with
merchandise. This old dame soon began a contest with Dowran, the
conductor of the kafilah, respecting the mode in which the movements of
the caravan should be regulated; and after some desperate skirmishes, in
which the force of her lungs and the piercing shrillness of her voice
stood her in good stead, victory declared on her side, and the party
fell under petticoat government.
Being now a declared infidel, and regarded by every person as an unclean
beast, whom it would be pollution to touch, and worse than adultery to
oblige by any kind offices, our traveller enjoyed many of the
preliminaries of martyrdom, was hourly abused, laughed at, mocked, and
derided; and still further to enhance the contempt which every person
already entertained for him, Dowran maliciously insinuated that he was
not even a Christian, but a Jew. When the party arrived at their
halting-place no one could be tempted to assist him, not even for money;
imagining, I presume, that the gold which had lurked beneath his “Jewish
gaberdine,” like that derived by Vespasian from a tax on urinaries,
which his son Titus jocosely smelled in order to discover its scent,
must be accompanied by an unsavoury odour, which might cleave to a true
believer, and exclude him after death from the arms of the houries. He
was therefore daily compelled to go himself in search of water and dried
camels’ dung to boil his tea-kettle, and, what was much worse, to endure
the smoke which it emitted when first lighted, which entered his eyes,
and made him think that some Mohammedan devil had transformed himself
into smoke for the purpose of tormenting him.
In the midst of this _gehannum_, which gave him the more pain from its
being of his own creating, he received some consolation from the
protection of the Afghan lady, whose good-will he had won by fondling
the children and giving them sugar. Thus fortified, he began by degrees
to laugh at Dowran’s beard; and if he did not return him the compliment
of being of the race of Abraham, it was more from want of reflection
than from apprehension of danger.
On the 26th of September they arrived at Ghizni, the residence of the
munificent and magnanimous Mahmood, the patron of Firdoosi, and one of
the splendid princes whose actions adorn the annals of the East. But
“the cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces, the solemn temples” of
Ghizni had long been trodden under foot by time; and, save some
scattered masses of misshapen ruins, not a trace was to be seen of its
former grandeur. The tomb of Mahmood, however, still remains in the
neighbourhood of the city; and to this resting-place of genius numerous
pilgrims resort from distant lands to say their prayers. The surrounding
country is interspersed with low hills, and, excepting in some few
cultivated spots, produces little else than a prickly aromatic weed,
which, with balls of unsifted barley-paste, constitutes the common food
of the camel.
The kafilah arrived on the 5th of October at Kandahar, a flourishing and
populous city, where he remained three days, and then departed for
Herat. His camel companion now was a noisy, disputatious theologian, who
not only regaled him on the road with menaces and arguments, but
deterred a poor half-starved Arab tailor, whose services Forster had
engaged, from eating the bread of an infidel, though he saw clearly the
poor man had no other to eat.
In this agreeable position he continued until the 2d of November, when
they arrived at Herat, where he determined once more to invest himself,
if possible, with the cloak of Mohammedanism. At the caravansary, where
he had been deposited by the kafilah, with an ample tradition of his
faith and practice, so desirable a disguise was impracticable; but he no
sooner quitted the purlieus of his lodgings than he became a grave
hypocritical Mussulman, and partook of the enjoyment of all his
privileges. Nor did he entertain any great fear of detection, it being
easy, in so motley a population as that of Herat, to maintain
successfully the most extraordinary disguise. He daily frequented the
eating-houses, where all the talk of the day was circulated, and chiefly
fabricated, in conjunction with the barbers’ shops, which in Herat have
a neat appearance. In the centre of it stands a small stone pillar, on
the top of which is placed a cup of water in readiness for operation,
while the sides of the shop are decorated with looking-glasses, razors,
and beard-combs. In one great source of amusement Herat was at this time
deficient,—there were no dancing girls. However, notwithstanding this
remarkable desideratum, our traveller, who was an accommodating person,
and contentedly put up with the blessings within his reach, contrived to
pass his time agreeably enough when absent from the caravansary.
Learning at length that a kafilah was about to proceed to Tursheez, a
town of Khorasan, lying in the direction of Mazenderan, he entered into
an agreement with the director for a conveyance, but with a confidential
stipulation that he was to be received in a Mohammedan character, as an
Arab. The kafilah departed from Herat on the 22d of November; and as it
had been agreed that he was to form one of the family of the leader, he
joined the party at the appointed place, and took his station on a
camel, with a bag of rice on the opposite pannier. The advantages of his
new character were soon visible. Having represented himself as a pilgrim
going to the shrine of Meshed, he was treated with the greatest possible
consideration by every passenger in the kafilah, all of whom courted his
society, as if holiness, like the plague, were infectious. Our hajjî now
rejoiced and stroked his beard, to the ample dimensions of which he owed
a large portion of the veneration which was shown him; and as he moved
along, caressed and admired by all who beheld him, he must have felt no
small gratitude towards Mohammed for the sanctity which his religion had
thrown round the person of a pilgrim. This extraordinary degree of
respect exciting the kafilah conductor, who considered that at this rate
he might possibly dwindle into nobody, even in the eyes of his own
camels and mules, he whispered about that Forster in reality was no
hajjî, nay, not so much as a member of the church at all. His
information, however, was received with utter incredulity, and
attributed to his envious disposition; so that no evil arose to the
Meshed pilgrim.
It was now December, and the north wind, sweeping with irresistible
violence over the plains of Khorasan from the frozen mountains of
Tartary, brought along with it a deluge of snow, which in a few hours
clothed the whole country in white. On arriving at the village of
Ashkara, the snow fell in such great quantities that the roads were
blocked up, while the winds, hurling it along in tremendous drifts,
seemed to threaten the village itself with destruction. The whole party
was admitted, after many earnest entreaties, into a small dark room in
the fort, where they were furnished with an abundance of fuel; but when
they began to make inquiries respecting provisions, they found with
dismay that not a single article of food was on any terms to be
procured. Yet, says the traveller, such cordial pleasures are inherent
in society, that though pent up in a dark hovel, which afforded but a
flimsy shelter against the mounds of snow furiously hurled against it,
our good-humour with each other and an ample supply of firing produced
cheerfulness and content. A Persian of more than ordinary education, and
who possessed a taste for poetry, amused them with reading Jami’s story
of Yousuf and Zuleikha, which, for its scenes of wondrously pathetic
adventure, and the luxuriant genius of the poet, is admirably calculated
to soften the rigour of a winter’s day.
At this village they remained four days, during which, though the fact
is not stated, they must have found something more substantial to
subsist on than Jami’s poetry; when, the storm having abated, they
pushed forward in the direction of Tursheez. On arriving at this town,
he found that every apartment in the caravansary was already occupied;
but a small piece of money bestowed upon the gatekeeper introduced him
to a small chamber, in which, by submitting to receive a partner in
housekeeping, he might reside comfortably enough during his stay. Our
traveller, on his part, regarded the companion with still greater
satisfaction than the chamber, and it soon appeared that the feeling was
mutual; for the stranger, accosting him with evident tokens of joy,
observed, that the solitary life he had hitherto passed at Tursheez was
exceedingly tiresome, and that he now anticipated a cordial relief by
his company. It was immediately agreed that a joint board should be
kept; that the stranger, being yet weak from a recent sickness, should
conduct the culinary operations, while Forster was to furnish water; a
laborious task, there being none that was good at a nearer distance than
a mile. This man, a gloomy, mysterious person, soon departed for Herat;
and the traveller, together with a new companion, contrived likewise to
find a better apartment. This second associate was a moollah, whose
profession it was to vend certain spells, which were powerfully
efficacious in conferring every species of worldly happiness, and in
excluding all evils. But
Nolint: atqui licet esse beatis.
The Persians of these parts had no taste for happiness; so that this
modern Thermander was, when Forster met him, so thoroughly disgusted
with his attempts at banishing all misery from among his countrymen,
that he was willing, he said, to shut up his book should any other
prospect of a maintenance be held out to him. When our traveller offered
him a participation of his fare, he therefore joyfully quitted his
profession as a wholesale dealer in happiness, and consented to
superintend the labours of the kitchen, in which, by long practice, he
had attained a remarkable proficiency. “The excellent services of my
companion,” says Forster, “now left me at liberty to walk about the
town, collect information, and frequent the public baths. In the evening
we were always at home; when the moollah, at the conclusion of our meal,
either read the story of Yousuf and Zuleikha, which he did but lamely,
or, opening his book of spells, he would expound the virtues of his
nostrums, which embraced so wide a compass that few diseases of mind or
body could resist their force. They extended from recalling to the paths
of virtue the steps of a frail wife, and silencing the tongue of a
scolding one, to curing chilblains and destroying worms.”
While Forster and the moollah were enjoying this peaceful and pleasant
life, a large body of pilgrims from the shrine of Meshed suddenly
inundated every apartment of the caravansary; and as this motley group
of vagabonds were proceeding towards Mazenderan, directly in his route,
he was tempted to join them and continue his journey, leaving his poor
companion to subsist once more upon the virtue of his spells.
Accordingly, with this holy kafilah he departed from Tursheez on the
28th of December; and being, as the reader will have perceived, of an
exceedingly sociable disposition, he very quickly found a substitute for
the moollah in the person of a seid, or descendant of Mohammed, who has
doubtless more descendants than any other man ever had. This
green-turbaned personage was a native of Ghilān, and, take him for all
in all, his conduct did more honour to his great ancestor than any other
member of his family commemorated by European travellers. With this
honest man Forster very quickly entered into partnership; but the seid
being old and infirm, the laborious portion of their operations
necessarily fell on the traveller. One little incident among many will
serve to show the terms upon which they lived together. The kafilah
having halted in a desert on the 3d of January, 1784, at a small stream,
“the Ghilān seid and I,” says Forster, “had filled our bottle for mutual
use; and the bread, cheese, and onions which supplied our evening meal
giving me a violent thirst, I made frequent applications to our water
stock. The seid, seeing that I had taken more than a just portion,
required that the residue should be reserved for his ceremonial
ablutions. While the seid retired to pray I went in search of fuel, and,
returning first to our quarter, I hastily drank off the remaining water,
and again betook myself to wood-cutting, that I might not be discovered
near the empty vessel by my associate, who had naturally an irascible
temper. When I supposed he had returned from his prayer, I brought in a
large load of wood, which I threw on the ground with an air of great
fatigue, and of having done a meritorious service ‘Ay,’ says he, ‘while
I, like a true believer, have been performing my duty to God, and you
toiling to procure us firing for this cold night, some hardened kaufir,
who I wish may never drink again in this world, has plundered the
pittance of water which was set apart for my ablutions.’ He then made
strict search among our neighbours for the perpetrator of this robbery,
as he termed it; but receiving no satisfactory information, he
deliberately delivered him or them to the charge of every devil in the
infernal catalogue, and went grumbling to sleep.”
In this way they proceeded until, having escaped from the deserts of
Khorasan, they entered the mountainous, woody, and more thickly-peopled
province of Mazenderan, the inhabitants of which Forster found more
civilized and humane than the Khorasans. On the night of the 24th of
January, while pushing on through the forests, most of the passengers
beheld a star with an illuminated tail, which, from its form and quick
motion, our traveller supposed to be a comet. In several of the woods
through which their road now lay, no vestige of a habitation or signs of
culture appeared, excepting a few narrow slips of land at the bases of
the hills. But as they proceeded the valleys soon “opened, and exhibited
a pleasing picture of plenty and rural quiet. The village all open and
neatly built, the verdant hills and dales, encircled by streams of
delicious water, presented a scene that gave the mind ineffable delight.
The air, though in winter, was mild, and had the temperature of an
English climate in the month of April.” Frazer, the able author of the
Kuzzilbash, has given in his travels a no less favourable idea of the
rich scenery of Mazenderan.
In a few days he arrived at Mushed Sir, on the Caspian Sea, where he was
hospitably received and entertained by the Russian merchants established
there. At this city he embarked for Baku, where he shaved his beard,
forswore Mohammed, and again embarked in a Russian frigate for
Astrakhan, where he arrived on the evening of the 28th of April. From
this place, where he remained some time in order to recruit his
strength, he proceeded through Moscow to Petersburg, which he reached on
the 25th of May. Here his stay was but short, for he had now become
impatient to visit England; and therefore, embarking about the middle of
June in a trading vessel, he arrived in England in the latter end of
July, 1784.
Forster seems to have occupied himself immediately on his arrival in
throwing into form a portion of the literary materials which he had
collected during one of the most hazardous and adventurous journeys that
ever were performed; for in 1786 he published in London his “Sketches of
the Mythology and Manners of the Hindoos,” which was received with
extraordinary favour by the public. How long he remained in England
after the publication of this work I have not been able to discover; but
we find him in 1790 at Calcutta, where he published the first volume of
his “Journey from Bengal to England,” and prepared the second volume for
the press. However, before the completion of his work, the political
troubles which at that period shook the whole empire of Hindostan
involved him in their vortex. He was despatched by the governor-general,
whose personal friendship he would appear to have enjoyed, on an embassy
to Nagpoor, in Gundwarra, the capital of the Bhoonsla Mahratta dynasty,
where he died about eight months after his arrival, in the month of
February, in 1791. His papers were conveyed to England. Here, six years
after his death, a complete edition of his travels appeared, in two
volumes quarto; but the person who undertook the task of editor, with a
degree of negligence which cannot be sufficiently admired, not only
omitted to give the public any account of the author, but, which is more
unpardonable, did not even condescend to inform them when, how, and from
whom the manuscript was obtained. However, the extraordinary merit of
the work, and the lively, laughing style in which it is written, quickly
recommended it sufficiently to the literary world. The celebrated
Meiners, professor of philosophy in the university of Göttingen,
translated it into German; and Langlès, the well-known orientalist,
published in 1802 a French translation, with copious notes, a
chronological notice on the khans of the Krimea, and a map of Kashmere.
In English there has not, I believe, appeared any new edition,—none, at
least, which has acquired any reputation; though there are extremely few
books of travels which better deserve to be known, or which, if properly
edited, are calculated to become more extensively popular. Forster was a
man of very superior abilities; and his acquirements—whatever M.
Langlès, a person ill calculated to judge, may have imagined—were
various and extensive. He possessed an intimate knowledge of the
Persian, and the popular language of Hindostan; and appears to have made
a considerable progress even in Sanscrit. Neither was he slightly
conversant with modern literature; and although it may be conjectured
from various parts of his work that the history of ancient philosophy
and literature had occupied less of his attention, he may yet be
regarded as one of the most accomplished and judicious of modern
travellers. This being the case, it is difficult to explain why he
should now be less read than many other travellers, whose works are
extremely inferior in value, and incomparably less amusing.
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