Bareilly, Monday, Jan. 22, 1838.
We were 'at home' on Friday evening. There are ten ladies at this
station, several of them very pretty, and with our own ladies there were
enough for a quadrille; so they danced all the evening, and it went off
very well.
There are two officers (Europeans) who command that corps of irregular
horse, and dress like natives, with green velvet tunics, scarlet satin
trousers, white boots, bare throats, long beards, and everything most
theatrical. It does tolerably well for the young adjutant, who is
good-looking; but the major, who commanded the regiment, would look
better with a neck-cloth and a tight coat. He doats on his wild
horsemen.
He says the officers come to him every morning, and sit down round him,
and show him their Persian letters, and take his orders, just as
children would; and to-day, when they were all assembled, they had been
reading our Russaldar's account of how well he had shown off all his
exercises, and how I had drawn his picture, and how G. had given him a
pair of shawls and some spears, &c. Just as they were reading this, the
man himself arrived, and the others all got up and embraced him, and
thanked him for keeping up the honour of the corps. They seem to be
something like the Highlanders in their way.
The regiment is made up of families. Each Russaldar has at least six
sons or nephews in his troop. They are never punished, but sent away if
they commit any fault; and they will do anything for their chief if
their prejudices of caste are respected. But there have been some
horrible tragedies lately, where young officers have come out with their
St. James's Street notions of making these men dress like European
soldiers.
Amongst other things, one young officer persuaded his uncle, a Colonel
E., to order them to cut off their beards--a much greater offence than
pulling all their noses. The men had idolised this Colonel E., but the
instant they heard this order, they drew their swords and cut him to
pieces. There was great difficulty in bringing the regiment into any
order again.
We had a great dinner (only men) on Saturday. Now G. has established
that F. and I are to dine at these _men_ dinners; he likes them best,
and in the short halts it is the only way in which he can see all the
civilians and officers. They are neither more, nor less, tiresome to us
than mixed dinners. The gentlemen talk a great deal of Vizier Ali and of
Lord Cornwallis, and the ladies do not talk at all: and I don't know
which I like best.
The thing that chiefly interests me is to hear the details of the
horrible solitude in which the poor young civilians live. There is a Mr.
G. here, whom R. recommended to us, who is quite mad with delight at
being with the camp for a week. We knew him very well in Calcutta. He
says the horror of being three months without seeing an European, or
hearing an English word, nobody can tell. Captain N. has led that sort
of life in the jungles too, and says that, towards the end of the rainy
season, when the health generally gives way, the lowness of spirits that
comes on is quite dreadful; that every young man fancies he is going to
die, and then he thinks that nobody will bury him if he does, as there
is no other European at hand. Never send a son to India! my dear M.,
that is the moral.
The civilians gave us a dinner on Monday, which went off better than
those ceremonies usually do.
It was at the house of an old Mr. W., who has been forty-eight years in
India, and whose memory has failed. He asked me if I had seen the house
at Benares where 'poor Davies' was so nearly murdered by 'Futty Rum,'
or some name of that kind, and he seemed surprised, and went on
describing how Mrs. Davies had gone to the top of the house and
said--'My dear! I see some dust in the distance,' just like Bluebeard's
wife; and I kept thinking of that, and wondering that I had not seen the
house, and at last I thought it must have happened since we left
Benares, so I asked, at last, 'But when did this take place?'
'Why, let me see. I was at Calcutta in '90; it must have been in '91, or
thereabouts.'
It was the most modern topic he tried. Mrs. W. has been thirty-seven
years in India, and is a wonderful-looking woman. Our band came, and
after dinner there was a great whispering amongst the seven ladies and
forty gentlemen, and it turned out they were longing for a little more
dancing; so the band played some quadrilles, and by dint of one couple
dancing first on one side of the room and then on the other, they made
it out very well, and it was rather a lively evening.
Camp, Jan. 26.
My own dearest Mary--I sent off another Journal to you yesterday. I
think you ought to have a very regular supply of letters from me. I
never am more than a fortnight now without sending one off. And such
enormous packets too! Such fine fat children! not wholesome fat, only
Indian, but they look puffy and large. We are at a place which in their
little easy way they call Kamovrowdamovrow--how it is spelt really I
cannot say, but that is the short way of expressing the sound. We have
our first view of the mountain to-day; so lovely--a nice dark-blue hard
line above the horizon, and then a second series of snowy peaks, looking
quite pink when the sun rises. We always travel half-an-hour by
torchlight, so that we have the full benefit of the sun rising. The air
is so nice to-day--I think it smells of mountains. The highest peak we
see is the Gumgoutra, from which the Ganges is supposed to flow, and
consequently the Gumgoutra is idolised by the natives. It was so like
P., who by dint of studying Indian antiquities, believes, I almost
think, in all the superstitions of the country. We were lamenting that
we should lose the sight of these mountains in two more marches; but
then we should be on our way to Simla. 'Oh, Simla!' he said, 'what of
that? There is no real historical interest about that. Simla is a mere
modern vulgar mountain. I had as lief be in the plain.' Poor Simla!
which has stood there, looking beautiful, since the world began, to be
termed a mere modern mountain; made of lath and plaster, I suppose. Our
marching troubles increase every day. I wish we _were_ at Simla. The
roads are so _infernally_ bad--I beg your pardon, but there is no other
word for it. Those who ride can make it out pretty well, and I would
begin again, only it tires me so that I cannot sit on the horse; but the
riders can always find a tolerable path by the side. The road itself is
very heavy sand with deep holes, and cut up into ditches by the
hackeries that go on the night before. Our old horses bear it very well,
but it has broken the hearts and tempers of the six young ones we got
last year from the stud, and there is no sort of trick they don't play.
Yesterday I nearly killed Mrs. A. by the excessive politeness with which
I insisted on bringing her the last stage. Two horses kicked themselves
out of their traces, and nearly overturned the carriage, and we plodded
on with a pair; however, she is not the worse for it. This morning,
before F. and G. left the carriage, one of the leaders, in a fit of
exasperation, threw himself over the other leader and the postilion; of
course they all three came down, but luckily neither man nor horses were
hurt; but the carriage could not come on, so we all got on some
elephants, which were luckily close at hand. They took us two miles, and
by the time mine, which was a baggage elephant, had jolted me into very
small pieces, we came to fresh horses. C. and G. rode on, and I sat down
on the ground by a fire of dry grass, which the syces and bearers had
made for themselves. I longed very much for an inn, or an English
waiter, or anything, or anybody; but otherwise it was amusing to see the
camp roll by--the Baboos in their palanquins, Mr. C.'s children in a
bullock carriage, Mr. B.'s clerks riding like sacks, on rough ponies,
with their hats on over their nightcaps; then the Artillery, with the
horses all kicking. W. O. came up to me and sent back one of the guards
to fetch up the carriage, and he always sets to work with his old
regimental habits, and buckles the harness himself, and sets the thing
off. His horse had run away with him for three miles, and then he ran
away with it for six more, and now he hopes they will do better. G. is
gone to-day to return the visit of the Nawâb of Rampore, who lives four
miles off, and he has had to recross the river, which makes rather a
melancholy addition to the fatigues of men and cattle. G. has set up for
his pet a hideous pariah dog, one amongst the many that follow a camp;
but this has particularly pretty manners, coaxing and intelligent, and
G. says he thinks it will keep the other pets out of his tent. Chance,
and F.'s lemur, W.'s greyhounds, and Dr. D.'s dog are always running
through his tent, so he has set up this, not that it really ever can go
into his tent, it is much too dirty, but we call it out of compliment to
the Company 'the Hon. John,' and it answers to its name quite readily.
Moradabad, Saturday, Jan. 27.
Another station, where we are to stay for three days; but the travelling
was worse than ever. I told W. O. last night I should walk, and he said
he should hop, he had tried everything else. It will be my last resource
too. The first stage did pretty well. I have set up Webb to ride by me
when the others ride on, and he can direct his own postilions. He does
not look the least like a head-coachman, or like the Sergeant Webb which
he is--rather like a ruffian in a melodrama; but he is very civil, and
by dint of encouragement and example, got the horses through a mile of
deep sand, down to the river-side. We passed about fifty hackeries stuck
fast, and there they and the oxen probably are now. The Y.s, be the road
bad or good, always come to a misfortune. Yesterday they broke the
spring of their dickey; to-day they had to harness _an elephant_ to
their carriage to pull it out of the sand; and long after we had
breakfasted we saw the eldest boy arrive on foot, with one of Mrs. A.'s
hirkarus, Mrs. Y. and the little thing on one of our elephants, and Y.
mounted on his own box, flourishing on with his tired horses. Our
carriage crossed the ford very well, though the water was up to the
steps, and when we had landed I said to Webb I thought we had better
wait for Miss F., as the march was longer than we expected. He always
speaks so like our old nurse Spencer: 'Lord bless me, Miss Eden, we must
not think of Miss F.; if the horses once stop in this sand, they will
never stir again. Go on, coachmen. I think, Miss Eden, my Lord and Miss
F. will make a bad job of this ford. I saw Lord William, that time he
and I came up the country, up to his middle in water at this place,
though he was on a tall English horse. Drive on!' We proceeded another
mile into the town, and then the horses went entirely mad, partly
because the narrow street was full of camels, and partly from fatigue.
Webb and the guards cleared off the camels, but the horses would not be
quiet, so I got out and walked. There were immense crowds of natives
waiting to see G.'s entry, but they are always very civil, and indeed
must have been struck with the majesty of my procession--Webb with his
long hunting-whip and Squire Bugle look, me in my dusty brown cloak and
bonnet, over a dressing-gown, the 'Hon. John' frisking and whining after
me with a marked pariah appearance, an old jemadar of G.'s, with a great
sheet twisted over his turban to keep out the cold of the morning; then
the carriages with the horses all kicking, and the syces all clinging to
them, and Giles and Mars in the distance, each in a horrid fright about
their ponies. I walked at least a mile and a half, and then met Captain
C. riding out to meet us. 'What accident has happened now?' he said.
'Nothing particular,' I said, 'I am only marching.' He turned back and
walked with me to the end of the town, and then the horses behaved
pretty well through all the saluting and drumming, and our entry was
made correctly; but I had no idea that I could have walked a mile and a
half without dropping down dead. That is something learnt. We had all
the station to dinner. There were only twenty-five of them altogether,
and only two ladies. The band could not play at dinner, which is always
a sad loss, as they cover all pauses, but their instruments and uniforms
had stuck in the sands. Luckily there was a young Mr. J., the image of
Lord Castlereagh, who talked unceasingly all through dinner. Another of
the civilians here is Mr. B. O., son of the Mr. O. you know. He was
probably the good-looking stepson whose picture Mrs. O. used to carry
about with her, because he was such a 'beautiful creature.' He is now a
bald-headed, grey, toothless man, and perfectly ignorant on all points
but that of tiger-hunting. There is not a day that I do not think of
those dear lines of Crabbe's--
But when returned the youth? The youth no more
Returned exulting to his native shore;
But in his stead there came a worn-out man.
They were always good lines, and always had a tendency to bring tears
into my eyes; but now, when I look at either the youth or the worn-out
men, and think what India does for them all, I really could not venture
to say those lines out loud. Please to remember that I shall return a
worn-out woman.
Moradabad, Monday, Jan. 29.
Mr. Y. gave us such an excellent sermon yesterday. The residents here
only see a clergyman once a year, so I am glad they had a good sermon,
and they all seemed pleased with it. Captain N. was taken ill at
church--the second time it has happened--and Dr. D. was obliged to go
out with him and bleed him. He looks very strong, but they say nobody
ever really recovers a real bad jungle-fever. We all went out on the
elephants, but there is not much to see at Moradabad, though it is a
cheerful-looking station. Mrs. A. came to see me, and says she is quite
baffled in her attempts to teach her little R. his Bible. He is only
three years old, but a fine clever boy. She gave up the creation because
he always would have it that the first man's name was Jack; and to-day
she tried the story of Samuel, which she thought would amuse him, and it
went on very well, with a few yawns, till she asked, 'What did Samuel
say when the Lord called him the third time?'--'I'm a-toming, a-toming,
so don't teaze I any more.' She thought this hopeless, and gave up her
Sunday lessons.
Camp, Tuesday, Jan. 30.
G. had a durbar yesterday, and then went to see the gaol. F. and I went
with P. to the native town to see if we could find anything to sketch,
but we could not. Mr. C. caught a very fine old native in the town, with
a white beard down to his waist, and he was rather a distinguished
character, fought for the English in the time of their troubles here; so
he sat for his picture, and it was a good opportunity to make him a
present. It is such an immense time since we have had any letters--none
by sea of a later date than August 5, nearly six months ago. For a
wonder, we marched ten miles to-day without an accident.
Amroah, Wednesday, Jan. 31.
I went to see Mrs. S. yesterday, and the visit rather reminded me of
you. Of course, as you observe, I should forget you utterly if it were
not for these occasional remembrances of you, and the constant practice
of thinking of you most hours of most days. The eldest little S. girl
was ill, an attack of fever, and, _I_ think, thrush, but at all events
her mouth was in a shocking state; 'and Dr. D. accused me of having
given her calomel,' Mrs. S. said, 'but I really never do, I detest
calomel; half the children in India are killed by it.' Just then four of
her children and two little Y.s rushed in, with guns and swords and
paper helmets--'Mamma, M. is gone on the elephant without us.'
'No, my dears, there's M. arranging my workbox. Now, don't make a
noise--Miss Eden's here. Run along.'
'But, mamma, may E. and F. Y. drink tea with us to-night?--we want
them.'
'Well, dears, we'll see about it presently; now run along.'
'But their mamma says she won't let them come if you don't write a
note.'
'Very well, dears, run along.'
'But, mamma, will you give us the note to take?'
'I'll think about it, my love; perhaps I shall meet Mr Y. out walking;
and now pray run along.'
Upon which M. looked up from the workbox she was arranging.
'Mamma, may I have this seal?'
'No, dear, certainly not; it was sent me by my little sister from
England; and now run along after your brothers.'
I told her how much you were in the habit of saying 'run along' when you
had any visitor with you--whereat we laughed. The poor little girl
looked very sick, and I could not find anything to send her, not even a
picture-book.
Amroah is a very long narrow town, where they make a very coarse sort of
porcelain, which they paint and gild. G. had a quantity of it given to
him, which he sent to me, and the native servants had great fun in
dividing it amongst themselves. Captain N. drove me in the evening back
to a gateway we had seen this morning--the first pretence at an object
for a sketch we had had for many days. We saw a great crowd round it,
and in the middle of them P. on his elephant, and in his spectacles,
sketching away as hard as he could.
When we came back, I went to fetch out G., who never goes out when he
can help it, and took him what I thought a prettier walk than
usual--about half a quarter of a mile of sand ankle deep, to an old
mosque, raised on an elevation of at least eighteen inches--'a
splendiferous creature'--(did you ever read 'Nick of the Woods?' you
sent it out to us, and we do nothing but quote it)--but he thought it
more tiresome than any walk he had taken yet. We found W. and F. there,
just on the same tack, F. thinking it was rather pretty, and W. not
able to guess why he was dragged all through that sand, and wishing
himself at Calcutta. 'Yes,' G. said, 'I am more utterly disgusted, more
wretchedly bored than ever, so now I shall go back to my tent, and wish
for Government House.' In the meanwhile he is becoming a red-faced
_fat-ish_ man, and 'if he aspires to play the leading villain of the
plot, his corpulence will soon unfit him for that rôle.' (See 'The
Heroine.')
Gurmukteser Ghaut, Friday, Feb. 2.
We crossed the Ganges this morning on a bridge of boats, which was very
well constructed, considering the magistrate had not had much notice.
The elephants always go first, and if the boats bear elephants, they
will bear anything. A Mr. F. and two assistants, and a Mr. and Mrs. T.
had come out forty miles to meet us; and it is unfortunate we had not
known it, for I had asked the B.s, D.s, General E., &c., to dinner, and
unless there was another tent pitched, we had room only for three more,
and it puts the aides-de-camp into consternation if any of these
strangers are left out. Mrs. T. wears long thick thread mittens, with
black velvet bracelets over them. She may have great genius, and many
good qualities, but, you know, it is impossible to look for them under
those mittens.
The weather is very changeable in these parts. On Wednesday morning the
thermometer was at 41° and on Thursday at 78°, so we rush from fur
cloaks, and shawls, and stoves, to muslin gowns and fans; and as far as
I am concerned, I do not think it is very wholesome, but it seems to
agree generally with the camp. The children are all rather ailing just
now, and there is a constant demand for our spare palanquin to carry on
a sick child.
Shah Jehanpore, Sunday, Feb. 4.
G., with Major J. and Mr. M., went yesterday to Haupor, where there is a
Government stud, and they came back this morning pleased with their
expedition. George had had the pleasure of sleeping in a house, and
thought it quite delightful. When we arrived here yesterday, we found
Captain C., our former aide-de-camp, waiting for us. I always said he
would come out to meet us, and W. betted a rupee that he would not, so
now I shall have a rupee to spend on my _menus plaisirs_, and may go in
at half-price to the play at Meerut. Chance arrived so tired from his
march. He was not the least glad to see Captain C., which was very
shocking, but he made up for it in the course of the day, and to-night
he is to go back with Captain C. in his palanquin, and pass two days
with him, and to eat all the time I suppose. I discovered that C. had
sent for Chance's servant, and said that he thought him shockingly thin
(you never saw such a ball of fat), and the man said it was very true,
but it was the Lady Sahib's orders, so then C. decided to borrow him for
a few days and to feed him up. He will have a fit to a certainty.
It was so dreadfully hot yesterday--quite like a May day in
Calcutta--and everybody was lying panting in their tents. It is lucky we
have made the most of our six weeks of cold, which was very pleasant
while it lasted. If we have rain, it may return again, but otherwise
they say we have no notion what the hot winds are on these plains, and
we have still six weeks to live in these horrid tents.
Meerut, Tuesday, Feb. 6.
We had some rain on Sunday night, not enough to do good to the crops or
the cattle, but it has made the air cool, and the dust was quite laid
yesterday. The tents we came up to at Mhow were quite wet. If once they
become really wet through, we should have to stop a week wherever we
might be, and however short our supply might be, as the canvas becomes
too heavy for the elephants to carry. We had a very pretty entry this
morning. There are four regiments here--two of them Queen's troops, and
one of them is W.'s old regiment of lancers. They were all drawn out,
and an immense staff met G. and rode in with him. The most amusing
incident to me, who was comfortably in the carriage, was that one of the
lancers' horses escaped from his rider, and ran amongst all the
gentlemen. It would be wrong to laugh in general at such an event, for a
loose horse in this country is like a wild beast, and tears people off
their horses and worries them; but this one only went curvetting about,
and when he took to chase old Mr. A. round the others, it was rather
interesting and pretty. I had no idea Mr. A. could have turned and
doubled his horse about so neatly. Five or six lancers were riding about
after him, without the least chance of catching the wild beast, who was
captured at last by one of the syces.
Meerut is a large European station--a quantity of barracks and white
bungalows spread over four miles of plain. There is nothing to see or to
draw.
George had a levée in the morning and audiences all day, and would not
go out any more. F. and I went in the tonjauns wherever the bearers
chose to convey us, and that happened to be to the European
burial-ground. We could not discover any one individual who lived to be
more than thirty-six. It may give Lady A. D. pleasure to know that Sir
R.'s first wife is certainly dead and buried--at least she is
buried--under a remarkably shabby tomb. People here build immense
monuments to their friends, but Sir R. cut his wife off with a small
child's tombstone.
Wednesday, Feb. 7.
There now! there is the overland post come, of December 1st, with a
letter from R. and one from Mr. D., both to George. It is a great thing
to know you were all well at that time, but still it is very mortifying
not to have any letters addressed to our noble selves. It falls so flat.
I had long ago given up any sea letters, but we kept consoling ourselves
with the notion of this overland business--that is, I never did; I
always said we should not have our proper complement of letters, so I am
not the least surprised, for I am confident that we have been here at
least fifteen years, and are of course forgotten; but still it is very
shocking, is not it? Lady G. used to write, but she has given it up too.
I do not know what is to be done; and I consider it rather a grand trait
of character that I go writing on as much as ever, considering it is six
months and four days since the date of your last letter. The post
brought in plenty of papers, and the Queen's visits to Guildhall and to
Covent Garden are very interesting. I think politics look ugly enough.
We had a very large party last night--the two large tents quite full of
nice-looking people--and they danced away very merrily.
Meerut, Sunday, Feb. 11.
We have had so much to do I could not write. But first and foremost we
have had some letters of September by the 'Zenobia' and the 'Royal
Saxon:' not a line from you--you evidently have a little pet ship of
your own; and but one from L., one from Lady G., &c.: in short, a good
provision, but I still wish yours would come to hand. These are five
months old, but that is not so bad.
We have had a ball on Wednesday from the artillery; a play on Thursday
by amateurs--'Rob Roy'--and 'Die Vernon' acted by a very tall lancer
with an immense flaxen wig, long ringlets hanging in an infantine manner
over his shoulders, short sleeves, and, as Meerut does not furnish
gloves, large white arms with very red hands. Except in Calcutta, such a
thing as an actress does not exist, so this was thought a very good 'Die
Vernon;' but I hear that 'Juliet' and 'Desdemona' are supposed to be his
best parts. Friday, the station gave us a ball, which was very full.
There were two Miss ----s come out from England to join a married
sister, the wife of an officer in the lancers. She is very poor herself,
but has eight sisters at home, so I suppose thought it right to help her
family; and luckily, I think, they will not hang long on her hands. They
are such very pretty girls, and knowing-looking, and have brought out
for their married sister, who is also very pretty, gowns and headdresses
like their own. The three together had a pretty effect. They are the
only young ladies at the station, so I suppose will have their choice of
three regiments; but it is a bad business when all is done. They arrived
just in time for this gay week, which will give the poor girls a false
impression of the usual tenor of their lives. The only other unmarried
woman also appeared for the first time _as a lady_. Her father has just
been raised from the ranks for his good conduct. The poor girl was very
awkward and ill-dressed, but looked very amiable and shy. I went and sat
down by her, and talked to her for some time; and her father came the
next day to G. and said he felt so grateful for the notice taken of his
daughter. The poor girl evidently did not know how to dance.
Yesterday George gave another great dinner, at which we did not appear.
I don't think I ever felt more tired, but the weather is grown very warm
again; and then, between getting up early when we are marching, and
sitting up late at the stations, I am never otherwise than tired. We
went to the church to-day instead of having service at home. It is
rather a fine sight, as General N.'s 'sax and twenty thoosand men' were
there. He is the Governor of the district, a good-natured old man, but
he has quite lost his memory, and says the same thing ten times over,
and very often it was a mistake at first. George asked him how many men
he had at Meerut; he said, 'I cannot just say, my Lord; perhaps sax and
twenty thoosand'--such a fine army for a small place.
Tuesday, Feb. 13.
We were to have left Meerut to-day, but I was obliged to tell George
that no human strength could possibly bear the gaieties of yesterday,
and a march of sixteen miles at four this morning.
We had a dinner at General N.'s of seventy people--'sax and twenty
thoosand,' I believe, by the time the dinner lasted--but it was very
well done. Mrs. N. is a nice old lady, and the daughter, who is plain,
shows what birth is: she is much the most ladylike-looking person here.
When the dinner was over--and I have every reason to believe it did
finish at last, though I cannot think I lived to see it--we all went to
the ball the regiment gave us. I look upon it as some merit that I
arrived in a state of due sobriety, for old General N.'s twaddling took
the turn of forgetting that he had offered me any wine, and every other
minute he began with an air of recollection, 'Well, ma'am, and now shall
_you_ and _I_ have a glass of wine together?' The ball was just like the
others, but with a great display of plate at supper, and the rooms
looked smarter.
Tell E. Mrs. B. is our 'Dragon Green,' only she does not imitate us with
that exquisite taste and tact which the lovely Miss Green displays. I
bought a green satin the other day from a common box-wallah who came
into the camp;--how she knows what we buy we never can make out, but she
always does--and the next day she sent her tailor to ask mine for a
pattern of the satin, that she might get one like it from Calcutta. The
same with some fur F. bought. I found some turquoise earrings last week,
which I took care not to mention to her, but yesterday the baboo of Mr.
B.'s office stalked into my tent with a pair precisely the same, and a
necklace like that I bought at Lucknow, and said his 'Mem Sahib' (so
like the East Indians calling their ladies 'Mem Sahibs') had sent him to
show me those, and ask if they were the same as mine. Having ascertained
that the earrings were double, and the necklace four times, the price of
mine, I said they were exactly similar, and that I approved of them very
much. I hope she will buy them.
We saw a great deal of Captain C. at Meerut, and he would have been very
happy if he had not thought Chance grown thin. F. left with him her tame
deer, which is grown up and becoming very dangerous. It is a pity that
tame deer always become pugnacious as soon as their horns come through.
I treated myself to such a beautiful miniature of W. O. There is a
native here, Juan Kam, who draws beautifully sometimes, and sometimes
utterly fails, but his picture of William is quite perfect. Nobody can
suggest an alteration, and as a work of art it is a very pretty
possession. It was so admired that F. got a sketch of G. on cardboard,
which is also an excellent likeness; and it is a great pity there is no
time for sitting for our pictures for you--but we never have time for
any useful purpose.
Camp, Delhi, Feb. 20.
This identical Delhi is one of the few sights, indeed the only one
except Lucknow, that has quite equalled my expectations. Four miles
round it there is nothing to be seen but gigantic ruins of mosques and
palaces, and the actual living city has the finest mosque we have seen
yet. It is in such perfect preservation, built entirely of red stone and
white marble, with immense flights of marble steps leading up to three
sides of it; these, the day we went to it, were entirely covered with
people dressed in very bright colours--Sikhs, and Mahrattas, and some of
the fair Mogul race, all assembled to see the Governor-General's
suwarree, and I do not think I ever saw so striking a scene. They
followed us into the court of the temple, which is surmounted by an open
arched gallery, and through every arch there was a view of some fine
ruins, or of some part of the King of Delhi's palace, which is an
immense structure two miles round, all built of deep red stone, with
buttresses and battlements, and looks like an exaggerated scene of
Timour the Tartar, and as if little Agib was to be thrown instantly from
the highest tower, and Fatima to be constantly wringing her hands from
the top of the battlements. There are hundreds of the Royal family of
Delhi who have never been allowed to pass these walls, and never will
be. Such a melancholy red stone notion of life as they must have! G.
went up to the top of one of the largest minarets of the mosque and has
been stiff ever since. From there we went to the black mosque, one of
the oldest buildings in India, and came home under the walls of the
palace. We passed the building in which Nadir Shah sat for a whole day
looking on while he allowed his troops to massacre and plunder the city.
These eastern cities are so much more thickly inhabited than ours, and
the people look so defenceless, that a massacre of that sort must be a
horrible slaughter; but I own I think a little simple plunder would be
pleasant. You never saw such an army of jewellers as we have constantly
in our tents. On Saturday morning I got up early and went with Major J.
to make a sketch of part of the palace, and the rest of the day was cut
up by jewellers, shawl merchants, dealers in curiosities, &c. &c., and
they begin by asking us such immense prices, which they mean to lower
eventually, that we have all the trouble of seeing the things twice.
Yesterday we went to the church built by Colonel Skinner. He is a native
of this country, a half-caste, but very black, and talks broken English.
He has had a regiment of irregular horse for the last forty years, and
has done all sorts of gallant things, had seven horses killed under him,
and been wounded in proportion; has made several fortunes and lost them;
has built himself several fine houses, and has his zenana and heaps of
black sons like any other native. He built this church, which is a very
curious building, and very magnificent--in some respects; and within
sight of it there is a mosque which he has also built, because he said
that one way or the other he should be sure to go to heaven. In short,
he is one of the people whose lives ought to be written for the
particular amusement of succeeding generations. His Protestant church
has a dome in the mosque fashion, and I was quite afraid that with the
best dispositions to attend to Mr. Y., little visions of Mahomet would
be creeping in. Skinner's brother, Major Robert Skinner, was the same
sort of melodramatic character, and made a tragic end. He suspected one
of his wives of a slight _écart_ from the path of propriety--very
unjustly, it is said--but he called her and all his servants together,
cut off the heads of every individual in his household, and then shot
himself. His soldiers bought every article of his property at ten times
its value, that they might possess relics of a man who had shown, they
said, such a quick sense of honour.
G. and I took a drive in the evening all round the cantonments, and
there is really some pretty scenery about Delhi, and great masses of
stone lying about, which looks well after those eternal sands.
In the afternoon we all (except G., who could not go, from some point of
etiquette) went to see the palace. It is a melancholy sight--so
magnificent originally, and so poverty-stricken now. The marble hall
where the king sits is still very beautiful, all inlaid with garlands
and birds of precious stones, and the inscription on the cornice is what
Moore would like to see in the original: 'If there be an Elysium on
earth, it is this, it is this!'
The lattices look out on a garden which leads down to the Jumna, and the
old king was sitting in the garden with a chowrybadar waving the flies
from him; but the garden is all gone to decay too, and 'the Light of the
World' had a forlorn and darkened look. All our servants were in a state
of profound veneration; the natives all look upon the King of Delhi as
their rightful lord, and so he is, I suppose. In some of the pavilions
belonging to the princes there were such beautiful inlaid floors, any
square of which would have made an enviable table for a palace in
London, but the stones are constantly stolen; and in some of the finest
baths there were dirty charpoys spread, with dirtier guards sleeping on
them. In short, Delhi is a very suggestive and moralising place--such
stupendous remains of power and wealth passed and passing away--and
somehow I feel that we horrid English have just 'gone and done it,'
merchandised it, revenued it, and spoiled it all. I am not very fond of
Englishmen out of their own country. And Englishwomen did not look
pretty at the ball in the evening, and it did not tell well for the
beauty of Delhi that the painted ladies of one regiment, who are
generally called 'the little corpses' (and very hard it is too upon most
corpses) were much the prettiest people there, and were besieged with
partners.