THE VEDAS.
The Hindūs believe that the original veda was revealed by Brahma, and was preserved by tradition until it was arranged in its present form by a sage, who thence obtained the name of Vyasa, or Veda-vyasa; that is, compiler of the vedas. He distributed the Indian scriptures into four parts, each of which bears the common denomination of veda. The veda, collectively, is the body of Hindū scripture. The most popular idea of their origin is, that they (the four vedas) issued from the four mouths of Brahma. Brahma, as we have seen, had once five heads; and there is a supplement to the Hindū scriptures, which some affirm to constitute a fifth veda. A mysterious set of books, called Agama, proceeded from the mouth of Shivŭ.
In Ceylon is a high mountain, on which is the print of a foot, still visible; the natives worship this sacred footstep as that of the god Buddha, who from that eminence ascended to his native skies.
It has been offered, as a probable conjecture, that the Buddha superstition was the ancient religion of India, and that the followers of Buddha were driven out of Hindūstan by the superior interest of the Brahmans at the courts of the Hindū monarchs. The priests of Buddha insist that the Brahmans came with their religion from Egypt; while, by others, it is conversely maintained that the Egyptians derived their doctrines and science from India. The religion of Buddha was, heretofore, and probably also about the era of Christianity, indisputably of extensive prevalence, as is evinced by many stupendous monuments. In Ava, where Buddhism is orthodoxy, the idea is upheld that it was equally prevalent in the same form throughout India until about the second century before Christ, when the Brahmans are stated to have introduced themselves and their rites.
This short account of the Hindū triad and their incarnations will give some idea of the mythology of the Hindūs; but to understand the subject more fully it would be necessary to refer to the authorities I have quoted in this abstract[24].
CHAPTER L.
PLEASANT DAYS IN CAMP.
Jellalabad—Menhdī Bridge—The Resident of Gwalior—Difficulty of crossing the Sands of the Ganges—Imrutpūr—Marching under the Flag of the Resident of Gwalior—Khāsgunge—The Tombs of Colonel Gardner and his Begam—Mulka Begam—Style of March—Pleasure of a Life in Tents—The Fort of Alligarh—The Racers—The 16th Lancers present a Shield to Mr. Blood—The Monument—The Kos-minār—Koorjah and Solitude—Meeting of old Friends—Meerut—The Officers of the Artillery give a Ball to the Governor-General and his Party—The Sūraj Kūnd—The Buffs add to the gaiety of the Station—The Artillery Theatre—The Pilgrim Tax abolished at Allahabad.
1838, Jan. 8th.—Arrived at Jellalabad without any adventures. Went to hear the band in the evening, but felt weary from not having slept the night before on account of the yells of the packs of jackals in every direction round the tent, and the noise of the sentries keeping off the people from Kanauj. We were in a complete jangal: a wolf came up to my tent at mid-day, then trotting over to the opposite tent, carried off my neighbour’s kid.
9th.—Early this morning I overtook Colonel M⸺, who was marching with his regiment, and rode with him some miles: we passed over a most curiously built suspension bridge, thrown over the Kala-nadī by the late Nawab Hakīm Menhdī; the pillars through which some part of the workmanship passes are remarkable. The sight of the river put me in mind of the excellence and large size of the arwarī fish it contains. Afterwards, speaking of this sort of mullet to Captain O⸺, he told me he had sent out a man to shoot arwarī fish, who had returned quite sick from having seen a hundred and thirty dead bodies choking up the river.
10th.—Arrived at Fathīgarh.
12th.—Dined with Major Sutherland, the Resident of Gwalior, who was in attendance on the Governor-General. A number of friends were assembled; a bright fire blazed in the tent; our host was the life of the party; the dinner was excellent. I have seldom passed a more agreeable evening.
13th.—Crossed the river on a bridge of boats that had been erected for the accommodation of the Lord Sāhib, as the natives call the Governor-General.
They say there are about eleven thousand people with the camp, and elephants and camels innumerable, which, added to the Body guard, Artillery, and Infantry, form an immense multitude. It is said his Lordship’s marching about the country costs the Government 70,000 rupees a month; the encampment encroaching on fields of grain often costs from 300 to 400 rupees a day to make up the loss sustained by the peasants. On the other side the bridge, the road was marked out by little flags,—and a most heartbreaking road it was; entirely through the dry bed of the river, nearly axle deep in fine sand: the day was bitterly cold, the wind very high, and the flying sand filled our eyes and mouths. I was too unwell to mount my horse, and the result was that the two greys had to drag me the whole way in the Stanhope. The first thing I discovered was my ayha in her cart fixed in the sand, and quite immovable. Some soldiers came forward and helped her out of her difficulty. All the Company’s hackeries had come to an anchor. The soldiers, finding the bullocks had no power to extricate them from the sand, took out the animals, and harnessed themselves, some thirty or forty men to each cart, and dragged it until it reached better ground.
I came up to my tent at Imrutpūr, and found it was pitched close to the lines of the camp of the Governor-General; this could not be altered at the time, the other tent not having come up, and being ill I laid down to rest. The other tent did not come up until it was too late to pitch it; and in the evening I was annoyed at finding I was within the rules of the camp, within the sentries, which I had given strict orders to avoid, and which my people had disobeyed by mistake when pitching the tent during the night. Indeed, the long march over the sand of the river had harassed them, and when it is particularly cold, the natives are more stupid than usual.
14th.—I was quite ill, and much inclined to give up my journey altogether, but as my tent was pitched within the rules, I got up very early, had the other tent pitched without the rules, went into it, and struck the former. Captain C⸺ wrote to mention it had been observed that the tent had been pitched within the line of sentries, and to request I would give orders to my khalasīs to prevent the recurrence of the circumstance. I therefore determined to change my route; and a note having come from Mrs. H⸺, saying their party having quitted the great camp were going to Alligarh, and requesting me to join them, I accepted the invitation with great pleasure.
19th.—Finished a march of fifteen miles before half-past eight A.M.; halted at Nawabgunge; breakfasted with my friends; a most kind welcome, a bright fire, and an excellent breakfast, made me quite happy. The formality of the great camp I had just quitted formed a strong contrast to the gaiety and cheerfulness of marching under the flag of the Resident of Gwalior.
23rd.—We arrived at Khāsgunge, and encamped in the Mango Tope just beyond the village. After breakfast, I drove four miles to see Mr. James Gardner, who had succeeded to his father’s property, and was living at his house. I found the place quite deserted; Mr. Gardner was at one of his villages some miles off, but his wife, Mulka Begam, was at home. I sent word I would pay my respects to her if she could receive me. In the mean time I went into the garden, and visited all those spots where I had so often enjoyed the society of my dear friend Colonel Gardner. The pavilion in the centre of the garden, in which I had nursed him when he was so ill, recalled to mind the conversation we then had, which ended in his taking me to the tomb of his son just beyond the garden; we sat on that tomb, and the dear old man said, pointing to the spot, “I wish to be buried there, by the side of my son; another year will not pass ere I shall be placed there; you are very kind in trying to persuade me, my dear daughter, that I have still many years before me, but I feel I am going, my constitution is gone; it is well that with old age we feel all these pains and the ills that accompany it; were it not so, we should never be willing to quit this world.” Our conversation lasted some time, afterwards he took my arm, and we returned slowly to the house. I visited his grave: his son had raised a tomb on the spot selected by his father; it was not quite finished. I knelt at the grave of my kind, kind friend, and wept and prayed in deep affliction. His Begam had only survived him a few days. She was buried in the same tomb, with her head to Mecca, towards which place the face of a true believer is always turned when laid in the grave. The corpse of a Muhammadan is laid on its back in the grave, with the head to the north and feet to the south, turning its face towards the kibla (or Mecca, i.e. west). The Shī’as make their tombs for men of the same shape as the Sunnīs make those for females; and for women like those of the Sunnīs for men, but with a hollow, or basin, in the centre of the upper part.
Mulka Begam received me very kindly; she showed me her little girl, the youngest, about two years old, whom she said was reckoned very like me. The child was shy, and clung to her ayha, frightened at a stranger; I could scarcely catch a glimpse of her face. The eldest boy was from home with his father; the second son, William Linnæus, so called after his grandfather, was at home; he is a very fine, intelligent boy. I requested leave to bring Mrs. H⸺ to pay her a visit that evening, and then asking permission to depart, I returned to the tents. In the evening, our party set off for Khāsgunge: we walked in the garden, and visited the tomb. Major Sutherland spoke of Colonel Gardner as a most gallant officer, and recorded several most dashing actions in which he had distinguished himself in many parts of the country; gallantry that had not met the recompense due to it from Government;—the value of a spirit such as Colonel Gardner’s had not been properly appreciated by the rulers of the land.
When the evening closed in, the gentlemen went into the outer house, and I took Mrs. H⸺ into the zenāna: as dark beauties always look best by candle-light, I had selected a late hour to visit the Begam; she was sitting on her gaddī when we went in, surrounded by her three beautiful children, and was in herself a picture. The little girl, my likeness, had lost all her shyness, and was figuring about like a dancing girl; on remarking the extraordinary change from shyness to such violent spirits, Mulka said, “She has had some opium, that makes her so fearless.” We sat an hour with the Begam, and then took our leave. We found the gentlemen in the outer house, sitting over a warm fire, and an excellent dinner of native dishes was ready; having dined, we returned by torch-light to the tents.
My friends were much gratified with their visit to Khāsgunge; I had spoken so warmly of the beauty of Mulka Begam, that I was pleased to find Mrs. H⸺ admired equally both her person and manners.
25th.—Our morning march was thus: Mr. H⸺, Major Sutherland and myself on horseback; Mrs. H⸺ in a palanquin-carriage, that rivalled Noah’s ark; it held herself, three children, three ayhas, two dogs, and packages without number; four good Arab horses had hard work to pull it six miles over such roads: the rest of the march was performed in buggies, with a relay of horses on the road. Major Sutherland, on his beautiful Arab, used to fly over the country in true Pindaree style; some of his Arabs I coveted exceedingly. In the evening the gentlemen took their guns; no game was to be found,—the land was generally perfectly bare, not a blade of grass,—the game had perished for want of food. The whole country around Zezaree was very flat and uninteresting; the only picturesque object we could find during these evening rambles was an old well; these wells we used to seek out and peer into as if we belonged to the Thuggee department, and were searching for dead bodies. Our life in tents was very agreeable, and I believe the whole party were sorry the next march would bring us to Alligarh, and once more into the form and stupidity of life in a house; for myself, the idea of having any roof over my head but that of a tent fell like a nightmare on my spirits; and the giving up hunting for old wells was a complete sacrifice.
26th.—Arrived at Alligarh; were kindly welcomed by Mr. and Mrs. H⸺, and pitched our tents in the Compound; in the evening we visited the fort, rendered famous for the gallant style in which it was taken, in Lord Lake’s time, from General Perron. The fort was strong, and surrounded by a fine ditch; to have approached it in a regular manner would have taken a month. A party of the ⸺ regiment had a skirmish with some of the men belonging to the fort; as these men retreated over the first bridge the English fought with, and entered the first gate with them. When within the gate they were exposed to a heavy fire on every side; just under a large peepul tree, close to the gate, six of the officers were killed; the rest crossed the second bridge, and fixed their ladders on the wall; but by their own ladders the enemy descended upon them. After dreadful slaughter, the second gate was entered, and the English took possession of the fort.
General M⸺ was wounded in the assault, and obliged to retire; it was fortunate for his memory he was an actor in one scene of gallantry, for his after-conduct gave rise to a song that is known to every sepahī in the service.
“Ha’thi par howda
Ghore par zīn
Jaldí bhāgīya
Gen’ral Monsīn.”
The English lowered the walls of the fort, but left one small portion standing, to show their great original height. The fort formerly had but one entrance, which opened on the ditch; the English built another gate on the opposite side, and another bridge across the ditch; the place was kept in repair for a short time, but is now in ruins. Within the fort, on the right, is a model of the ground plan. I only regret I cannot very well remember all that was told me at the time in the most animated manner by Major Sutherland, who, himself a distinguished officer, was greatly interested in the Fort of Alligarh.
27th.—Our party drove to the race-stand, to see the horses that are in training for the races: certainly, Botanist and Faustus, two very fine Arabs, belonging to Mr. B⸺, are beautiful creatures. In the evening we visited a house and garden, formerly the property of General Perron, now in the possession of Major Derridon, who married his sister.
Major Cureton, of the 16th Lancers, dined with us; we had a long conversation about the old regiment; he told me the 16th had sent Mr. Blood a present of a silver shield. How much the old man will feel and value the honour conferred upon him by his regiment!
28th.—Visited Mr. B⸺’s stud to see his beautiful Arabs: in the evening we went to the tomb of the officers who fell at the taking of the Fort; eight of them are buried there, and a monument is erected to their memory. Thence we went to a Masjid, situated on a hill in the town,—a very picturesque object from a distance. At its side is the ruin of a very old Kos Minar, which is remarkable. Rain threatened, the clouds were black and heavy, the thunder rolled, but only a few, a very few drops descended. Without rain all the crops now above ground will perish, and the famine will continue.
29th.—With regret I separated this day from the party, to pursue my route alone to Meerut, they to take the opposite direction to Muttra, Gwalior, and Agra: Mr. H⸺ and Miss B⸺ accompanied me the first six miles on the march. How curious appeared the solitude of my tents away from the happy party I had quitted! yet I enjoyed the quiet, the silence, and the being alone once more.
30th.—Encamped at Koorjah; a tufān of wind and sand all day; no grass to be had or seen, the earth all dried up. In the Faquir’s Bāghīcha is a picturesque tomb and ruined mosque.
31st.—Encamped at Bulandsher; quitted the good Delhi road to turn to Meerut; the wind very high, and miserably cold, the sand flying like dust, covering every thing in the tent, and filling my eyes. The servants annoyed me by disobeying orders; the food was bad,—the Arab’s saddle wrung his back,—every thing went wrong. What a distance I have marched! how generally barren, flat, and uninteresting the country has been! I saw a very fine banyan tree a day or two ago, but the general face of the country is a sandy plain, interspersed with a few green fields near the wells, and topes of mango trees: in one of these topes my tent is pitched to-day. My beautiful dog Nero is dead. What folly in this climate to be fond of any thing!—it is sure to come to an untimely end.
Feb. 3rd.—Encamped at Kerkowdah; at this spot my relative, Capt. E. S⸺, met me, to conduct me to his house at Meerut. How changed we were! our first impulse was to laugh at each other; when last we met we were happy young creatures, playing at games of every sort on the lawn at Somerford Booths. Our voices, the expression of our countenances, were, perhaps, the same; in other respects the alteration was so great, how could we help laughing at each other?
4th.—Arrived at Meerut, pitched my tents in the Compound, i.e. the grounds around the house.
6th.—The Governor-General and the Camp arrived.
7th.—Attended a ball given by the officers of the artillery to the Governor-General; Lord Auckland and the Misses Eden were gracious, and had I not been suffering from illness, I should have enjoyed the party.
9th.—Drove to the Sūraj Kūnd, or Spring of the Sun, a remarkably large tank; a little further on are a great number of satī mounds of peculiar construction. In the evening attended a ball, given by the station to the Governor-General and his party.
12th.—Dined with General and Mrs. R⸺ to meet the Governor-General and his party; the dinner was given in one great tent, which held eighty guests at table. In the evening the party went to a ball given by the Buffs to the Governor-General; the room was gay and well-lighted, ornamented with rays of steel, formed of bayonets and ramrods; a sort of throne was decorated with the colours of the regiment for the Governor-General. The dancing was carried on with spirit; the finale an excellent supper.
Mr. W⸺ invited me to Lahore, to witness the meeting of the Governor-General and Runjeet Singh. I promised to accept the invitation, if in that part of the world in November, but I fear I shall be far distant. Captain O⸺ sent me three Italian greyhound pups; they dart about in the most amusing manner. I hope the little delicate creatures will live. Wishing to view the ruins of Delhi, I sent off my tents one march to await me. In the evening I went to the theatre, to see the performance of the privates of the artillery. The men built their own theatre, painted their own scenes, and are themselves the performers. The scenery is excellent, the house crowded; the men acted remarkably well; and the ladies, strapping artillery men, six feet high, were the cause of much laughter. A letter from Allahabad informed me, “the 12th of January was one of the great bathing days, the river and its banks were covered with the pilgrims; for days and days we saw them passing in one almost continued line, very few rich people amongst them, principally the lower orders. There is no tax now levied by the Government, but an officer is sent down with a guard as usual. There was a storm in the morning, and the rain had been pouring ever since. The poor creatures now on their way in thousands for to-morrow’s bathing will suffer dreadfully, and all their tamāshā be spoiled.”
CHAPTER LI.
RUINS OF DELHI.
“VEDI NAPOLI, E POI MORI.”
“I’ll thank you for your name, Sir.”
Happiness of being alive—March from Meerut to Delhi—Method of Stealing a Camel—Delhi—The Church—Monument erected to Wm. Frazer, Esq., B.C.S.—The Canal of Paradise—Mimic Warfare—Tomb of Humaioon—Fort of Feroze Shāh—Masjid of Zeenut al Nissa—Masjid of Roshan-ool-Dowla—Datisca Cannabina—Mimosa Scandens—Washing by Steam—The Kutub Minār—Ancient Colonnades—Kutub kā Lāt—Unfinished Minār.
1838, Feb.—With the Neapolitan saying, “Vedi Napoli, e poi mori,” I beg leave to differ entirely, and would rather offer this advice,—“See the Tājmahal, and then—see the Ruins of Delhi.” How much there is to delight the eye in this bright, this beautiful world! Roaming about with a good tent and a good Arab, one might be happy for ever in India: a man might possibly enjoy this sort of life more than a woman; he has his dog, his gun, and his beaters, with an open country to shoot over, and is not annoyed with—“I’ll thank you for your name, Sir.” I have a pencil instead of a gun, and believe it affords me satisfaction equal, if not greater than the sportsman derives from his Manton.
On my return from the theatre I sought my charpāī, and slept—Oh, how soundly!—was dressed, and on my horse by 6 A.M., having enjoyed four hours and a half of perfect rest. “Sleep is the repose of the soul[25].” I awoke from my slumber perfectly refreshed, and my little soul was soon cantering away on the back of an Arab, enjoying the pure, cool, morning breeze. Oh! the pleasure of vagabondizing over India!
16th.—We rode part of the distance, and drove the remainder of the march, sixteen miles; found the tents ready, and the khidmatgārs on the look out. Took a breakfast such as hungry people eat, and then retired to our respective tents. The fatigue was too much; the novel dropped from my hand, and my sleepy little soul sank to repose for some hours.
When the sun was nearly down, we roamed over the fields with the gentlemen and their guns, but found no game. Thus passed the day of the first march on the road to Delhi at Begamabad.
17th.—Arrived early at Furrudnagar, another long distance; a high wind, clouds of dust, and a disagreeable day. During the night the servants were robbed of all their brass lotas and cooking utensils. A thief crept up to my camels, that were picketed just in front of the tent, selected the finest, cut the rope and strings from his neck; then, having fastened a very long thin rope to the animal, away crept the thief. Having got to the end of the line, the thief gave the string a pull, and continued doing so until he rendered the camel uneasy; the animal got up,—another pull—he turned his head, another—and he quietly followed the twitching of the cord that the thief held; who succeeded in separating him from the other camels, and got him some twenty yards from the tent; just at this moment the sentry observed the camel quietly departing, he gave the alarm, the thief fled, and the animal was brought back to the camp;—a few yards more the thief would have been on his back, and we should have lost the camel.
Palace and Fort of Delhi.
فاني پارکس
18th.—Marched into Delhi: the first sight of the city from the sands of the Jumna is very imposing; the fort, the palace, the mosques and minarets, all crowded together on the bank of the river, is a beautiful sight. “In the year of the Hijerah, 1041 (A.D. 1631-2), the Emperor Shāhjahān founded the present city and palace of Shāhjahānabad, which he made his capital during the remainder of his reign. The new city of Shāhjahānabad lies on the western bank of the Jumna, in latitude 28° 36′ North. The city is about seven miles in circumference, and is surrounded on three sides by a wall of brick and stone; a parapet runs along the whole, but there are no cannon planted on the ramparts. The city has seven gates: viz., Lahore gate, Delhi gate, Ajimere gate, Turkoman gate, Moor gate, Cabul gate, Cashmere gate; all of which are built of freestone, and have handsome arched entrances of stone, where the guards of the city kept watch.”
We entered the town by the Delhi gate: during the rains, when the river flows up to and by the walls of the city, the view from a boat must be beautiful; at present the river is shallow, with great sandbanks in the centre. We crossed a bridge of boats, and encamped in front of the church.
The church was built by Colonel Skinner, planned by Colonel S⸺; I do not like the design: it was put into execution by Captain D⸺. The dome appears too heavy for the body of the church, and in the inside it is obliged to be supported by iron bars,—a most unsightly affair. A man should visit the ruins of Gaur, and there learn how to build a dome, ere he attempt it. Colonel Skinner is a Christian; the ladies of his family are Musalmanīs, and for them he has built a mosque opposite the church. In the churchyard is the tomb of Mr. William Frazer, who was murdered by the Nawab Shumsheodin: Colonel Skinner has erected a monument to the memory of his friend; it is of white marble, in compartments, which are inlaid with green stones, representing the weeping willow; the whole was executed at Jeypore, and cost, it is said, 10,000 rupees. On the top is a vase, and, in a compartment in front of the church is a Persian inscription. Below are these lines, and in front of the lines are two lions reposing: to none but an Irishman would it be clear that the us in the epitaph proceeds from the lions:—
“Deep beneath this marble stone
A kindred spirit to our own
Sleeps in death’s profound repose,
Freed from human cares and woes;
Like us his heart, like ours his frame,
He bore on earth a gallant name.
Friendship gives to us the trust
To guard the hero’s honour’d dust.”
On the other side the monument is another inscription, also written by Colonel Skinner.
THE REMAINS
INTERRED BENEATH THIS MONUMENT
WERE ONCE ANIMATED
BY AS BRAVE AND SINCERE
A SOUL
AS WAS EVER VOUCHSAFED TO MAN
BY HIS
Creator!
A BROTHER IN FRIENDSHIP
HAS CAUSED IT TO BE ERECTED,
THAT, WHEN HIS OWN FRAME IS DUST,
IT MAY REMAIN
AS A
MEMORIAL
FOR THOSE WHO CAN PARTICIPATE IN LAMENTING
THE SUDDEN AND MELANCHOLY LOSS
OF ONE
DEAR TO HIM AS LIFE.
WILLIAM FRAZER
DIED MARCH 22ND, 1835.
In the evening the brother of the Bāiza Bā’ī, Hindū Rāo, sent me an elephant, and Colonel Skinner sent another; on these we mounted, and went through all the principal streets of the city. Dehlī or Dillī, the metropolis of Hindūstān, is generally called by Musalmāns Shāhjahān-ābād, and, by Europeans, Delhi. The Chāndnī chauk, a very broad and handsome street, is celebrated; it has a canal that runs through and down the centre of it; but such is the demand for water, that not a drop now reaches Delhi, it being drawn off for the irrigation of the country, ere it arrive at the city. This fine stream is called Nahr-i-Bihísht, or “Canal of Paradise.” “In the reign of Shāhjahān, Ali Merdan Khan, a nobleman, dug, at his own expense, a canal, from the vicinity of the city of Panniput, near the head of the Doo-ab, to the suburbs of Delhi;—a tract of ninety miles in extent. This noble canal is called by the natives the ‘Canal of Paradise,’ and runs from north to south, in general about ten miles distant from the Jumna, until it joins that river nine miles below the city of New Delhi: it yielded formerly fourteen lākh of rupees per annum. At present it is out of repair, and in many places almost destroyed.”
As we went round the Jáma Masjid, a fine mosque, I thought of the words of the Prophet,—“Masjids are the gardens of Paradise, and the praises of God the fruit thereof.” On the high flight of steps leading to the mosque were hundreds of people in gay dresses, bargaining for cloth, sweetmeats, &c.
The inhabitants of Delhi appear to delight in dresses of the gayest colours, and picturesque effect is added to every scene by their graceful attire. Native gentlemen of rank, attended by large sawārīs (retinues) on horseback, on elephants, or on camels, are met at every turn, rendering the scene very amusing and animated. Nevertheless, in spite of all this apparent splendour, a proverb is used to express the vanity and indigence prevalent in that city:—“Dillī ke dilwālī munh chiknā pet khālī;” “The inhabitants of Dihlī appear to be opulent, when, in fact, they are starving.” A little beyond the Jáma Masjid is the wall of the palace,—a most magnificent wall; I was delighted with it and its gateways. Shortly afterwards we turned our elephants towards the tents, and returned, considerably fatigued, to dinner.
19th.—This morning we had decided on visiting the tomb of Humaioon, but, on mounting our horses, hearing firing at a distance, we rode off to see what amusement was going forward, leaving the visit to the tomb for another day. It was lucky we did so, I would not on any account have missed the scene. We galloped away, to save time, and found Lord Auckland and his party at a review; after looking at the review a short time, Captain S⸺, himself an engineer, took me to see a very interesting work: the sappers and miners had erected a mud-fort; trenches were regularly formed in front of the fort, to cover the attacking party, and mines were formed underground to a considerable distance. We walked through the long galleries, which were all lighted up, and Captain S⸺ explained the whole to me. On our return, Lord Auckland came up, examined the fort, and walked through the miners’ galleries. The attack commenced, the great guns blazed away at the bastion, which was blown up in good style by the miners; the soldiers mounted the breach and took the fort, whilst, on the right, it was scaled by another party. This mimic war was very animated; I like playing at soldiers, and it gave me an excellent idea of an attack, without the horror of the reality: another mine was sprung, and the warfare ended. The sun was high and very hot,—we rode home as fast as our horses could carry us,—only stopping on the top of a rocky hill near the late Mr. Frazer’s house, to admire the view of Delhi, which lay below a mass of minarets and domes, interspersed with fine trees. Near this spot Mr. Frazer was shot. The house was bought by Hindū Rāo for 20,000 rupees. Out of this rocky hill a sort of red gravel is dug, which forms the most beautiful roads.
After breakfast we struck our tents, and came to stay with a friend, who has a fine house in beautiful grounds, with a garden filled to profusion with the gayest flowers, situated just beyond the Cashmere gate of the city. Colonel Edward Smith, of the engineers, deserves great credit for the style and good taste he has displayed in the architecture of this gate of Delhi, and for several other buildings which were pointed out to me as of his design in other parts of the city. We found the tents very hot within the walls, with flies innumerable, like the plague of Egypt; at least, they must be quite as bad during the hot season. In the evening we went to a ball, given by Mr. Metcalfe to the Governor-General and his party.
20th.—The ball gave me a headache, and I was suffering a good deal of pain, when a native lady came to see me, on the part of the Nawāb Shah Zamānee Begam, the Emperor’s unmarried sister, from whom she brought a complimentary message, and a request that I would call upon her at the palace. The lady, finding me in pain, most kindly shampooed and mulled my forehead so delightfully, that my headache was charmed away;—shampooing is the great luxury of the East.