Saturday, June 14, 1838.
My last Journal departed this life on Tuesday last, and since then we
have had almost unceasing rain, with a great deal of thick white fog,
which I rather affection; it somehow has a smell of London, only without
the taste of smoked pea-soup, which is more germane to a London fog, and
consequently to my patriotic feelings. The rain last night washed down
one house, and killed the man in it; and the roads have been carried
down into the valleys, and the rocks washed into the roads, so that
somehow our geography is not so clear as it was; but still it is cool,
and what else is there that signifies in India?
My Journal must be so very dull here, that I am thinking of converting
it into a weekly paper. We do not even give any dinners now (not that
they would make any difference). I was thinking how much journals at
home are filled with clever remarks, or curious facts, or even good
jokes, but here it is utterly impossible to write down anything beyond
comments on the weather, I declare I never hear in society anything that
can be called a _thing_--not even an Indian thing--and I see in Sir
James Mackintosh's Life, which I am just finishing for the third time,
that, in his Indian journal, there is nothing but longings after home,
and the workings of his own brain, and remarks on books; whereas, in his
English and Paris journals, there are anecdotes and witticisms of other
people, and a little mental friction was going on.
I am interested in Indian politics just now, but could not make them
interesting on paper. Herât is still defending itself, but the Russians
are egging on the Persians, and their agents are trying to do all the
mischief they can on our frontier. Two Russian letters were intercepted,
and sent to G. yesterday; highly important, only unluckily nobody in
India can read them. The aides-de-camp have been all day making
facsimiles of them, to send to Calcutta, Bombay, &c., in hopes some
Armenian may be found who will translate them. It would be amusing if
they turned out a sort of 'T. and E. Journal;' some Caterina
Iconoslavitch writing to my uncle Alexis about her partners.
I went through the thick fog this morning to visit the R.s, and found
them in a great fuss. They had been trying to get news in every
direction without success. 'Pray, is it true what we heard yesterday
morning, that the Governor-General had said he would burn Herât if he
could?' I said it sounded plausible, as he probably did not wish Herât
to fall into the enemy's hands. 'Well, but then we heard that the
Governor-General had said, in the afternoon, that he was against any
warlike measure whatever; that contradicts the morning story.' I
recommended that they should always believe the afternoon anecdotes,
because G. sees people in the morning, and he sees nobody after
luncheon, so that what he says to other people might be less than the
truth, but that what he says to himself, in the afternoon, must clearly
be the real state of the case.
Sunday, June 17.
Still pouring! and our congregation consisted of only eight people
besides Mr. Y.; but it cleared at five, and we rode all round 'Jacko,'
the imposing name of our highest mountain, as hard as we could canter.
The hills were _really_ beautiful to-night, a sea of pinkish white
clouds rolling over them, and some of their purple heads peering through
like islands. It was a pleasure to look at anything so beautiful and so
changeable. The clouds drew up like curtains in massy folds every now
and then, and there were the valleys grown quite green in three days,
just tinged with the sunbeams, the sun itself hidden; and the _want of
shape_ for which these hills are to blame on common occasions was
disguised by all this vapoury dress. I love hills, but I have discovered
by deep reflection that we are such artificial animals, that the
recollections of art are much more pleasing and stronger in my mind than
those of nature. In thinking over past travels, Rubens' 'Descent from
the Cross' at Antwerp, and Canova's 'Magdalene,' and one or two Vandycks
at Amsterdam, and parts of Westminster Abbey and of York Minster, come
constantly into my thoughts; and I can see all the pictures at
Panshanger, particularly the Correggio, and many of those at Woburn and
Bowood, as clearly as if they were hanging in this room. There is a bit
of grey sky in that 'Descent from the Cross' I shall never forget,
whereas Killarney, and the Rhine, and the Pyrenees are all confused
recollections, pleasant but not clear. And I am sure that in this
country, though I do not admire Indian architecture, I shall recollect
every stone of the Kootûb and every arch about it, when these mountains
will be all indistinct. In short, notwithstanding that 'God made the
country and man made the town,' I, after the fashion of human nature,
enjoy most what God has given, and remember best what man has done. How
do you feel about nature and art? Don't you love a fine picture? After
all, it is only nature caught and fixed. Another thing is, that all my
associations with pictures and statues are those of pleasant society,
and friends, and good houses, and youth and happiness, though I should
love them for their own sakes too.
Simla, Wednesday, June 20.
I sent off another lump of Journal last Saturday, but somehow I feel
none of those last letters are sure of reaching you. They will be
drowned going overland, after the contrarious way of the world. We might
have had your April packet by this time, but the Bombay dâk has not been
heard of at all for five days, and it is supposed the rivers have
overflowed and that all your dear little letters are swimming for their
lives. Our rains have begun, but they are not very different from
English rains--at least hitherto it has been fine half the day. On
Saturday morning they began with a grand thunder-storm, and a great
splash of water, which would have been pleasant only that it took a
wrong direction, and somehow _settled_ in my ceiling, from which it
descended in a variety of small streams, after the fashion of a gigantic
shower-bath, on my carpet, tables, &c. Giles rushed in at the head of a
valiant band of khalasses (Indian house-maids of the male gender), and
carried off my books and pictures, and nothing was hurt, only you know
your face might have been entirely washed out, which, as there is not
another like it within 15,000 miles, would have been an irreparable
calamity. The rest of the house behaved itself beautifully, and my room
was put to rights in twenty-four hours. The instant these leaks are
discovered, the flat roofs are covered with natives thumping away at the
mud of which they are composed, as if noise were no grievance. A strange
delusion!
Friday, June 22.
I must copy out an extract from the 'Loodheeana News,' Runjeet's
'Morning Chronicle,' which Captain M. translated from the original
Persian.
There is an account of the arrival of our Mission at Adeenanugger, and
then it goes on to say: 'On the following day the Maharajah, having
alighted in his silver ornamented bungalow, had an order sent through
his counsellors and enlightened sages, that the state elephants adorned
with golden howdahs should be sent for the purpose of bringing the
Mission to the durbar. The newswriters report that before the arrival of
the deputation, the troops of the Maharajah, covered from head to foot
with silver, jewels, and all manner of beautiful clothes, were drawn up
before his doors, and such was their appearance that the jewel-mine, out
of envy, drew a stone upon its head, the river sat upon the sand of
shame, and the manufacturers of the handsome cloths of Room
(Constantinople) and Buper pulled down their workshops. The voices of
the praise singers were raised from earth to heaven, and thus they
spoke--"O God, may the gardens of these two mighty kingdoms continue
prosperous and flourishing to the end of time! May the enemies of these
two rivers of justice and liberality, which day by day receive the waves
of victory from the whole world, perish in the stream! May the friends
of these two clouds of power, which day by day shower down jewels on the
inhabitants of the world, ever be victorious!" As soon as the customary
forms of meeting had been gone through, the gentlemen of the Mission
were seated on silver chairs. Nearly two hours were occupied in asking
questions regarding the health of the Governor-General. After this a
letter from his lordship, locked up in a jewelled box, and _every word
of which was full_ of the desire for an interview with the Maharajah,
was presented. The deputation then retired. We shall have more to say
regarding this next week.'
What delights me in that is that G.'s health should occupy two hours of
enquiry. His illnesses have never been half so long, luckily.
Thursday, June 28.
I have had a letter from Dr. D., who gives a wretched account of their
sufferings; the thermometer had been for three days ranging from 107° to
110°. He says W. had at last given in, and announced that he _could_ not
live twenty-four hours more, but that he had left him sitting under a
fountain, smoking his hookah, and in very good spirits; he had little
doubt he would live grumbling on. He is sending Captain M. home, and he
will be here probably in a week, which I am very glad of. Dr. D. says
that he considers him in a precarious state, though his lungs are not
yet attacked, but he is so reduced that another week of such weather
would be too much for him.
They are all very much occupied in burying a live native--a man who has
been described in various travels, who says he has the power of existing
in a trance, and who has made a vow to be buried for twelve years. We
have seen a great many people who have seen him buried, a guard placed
and even a house built over the grave, and who have seen him dug up
again at the end of two months apparently a corpse, but he comes _to_
again. Dr. D. was quite incredulous, but says in his letter to-day that
after hearing all the witnesses, and seeing the man, he has become quite
a convert. They were all going to attend the burying in the afternoon,
and the man had desired that he might not be dug up till the
Governor-General's arrival at Lahore next November. He offered to come
and be buried here, but Runjeet did not approve of it.
We had a musical dinner yesterday, a borrowed pianoforte and singing,
and two couples who accompany each other. The flute couple I think a
failure, but they are reckoned in this country perfectly wonderful; and
they whispered quite confidentially, 'I suppose you are aware that
before ---- came out to this country, the famous Nicholson said he could
teach him nothing more.' I suspect when he goes back the famous
Nicholson will find he may throw in a lesson or two with good effect.
The other couple are beautiful musicians.
Monday, July 2.
Captain P.'s house was robbed last night of about 80_l._ worth of plate.
One of his own servants is supposed to have done it, but there was
another house at the other end of Simla broken open at the same time,
and robbed of the same amount of plate, so there must be a gang of
robbers in the bazaar, much to ----'s disgrace. It is considered quite a
shocking thing to have a robbery in India--pilfering is commendable and
rather a source of vanity, but a robbery of an European is a sort of
high treason in all native states, and the town pays for that loss.