We quitted the old house and went to view the new one, which was incomplete at the time of the death of the emperor; had he lived another week he would have taken possession of it. The sight of this house put me into better humour with the English; in going over the old one, I could not repress a feeling of great disgust and shame. The new house is handsome and well finished; and the apartments, which are large and comfortable, would have been a proper habitation for the exiled emperor. The bath daily used by him in the old dwelling has been fitted up in the new; every thing else that could serve as a relic has been carried away.
In the grounds were some curious looking gum-trees covered with long shaggy moss. The heat of the day was excessive; we had umbrellas, but I had never before been exposed to such heat, not even in India. The sea-breeze refreshed us, but the sun raised my skin like a blister; it peeled off after some days quite scorched.
We returned to dinner at Mr. Solomon’s Hotel. Soup was placed on the table. Dr. G⸺ said, “This soup has been made of putrid meat.” “Oh no, Sir,” said the waiter, “the soup is very good; the meat smelt, but the cook took it all out before it came to table!” A rib of beef was produced with a flourish; it was like the soup,—we were very glad to send it out of the room. We asked to see the landlord; the waiter said he was over at the mess: we desired him to be sent for, of course supposing he was sending up dinner to the officers of a Scotch regiment, whose bagpipe had been stunning our ears, unaccustomed to the silver sound. What was our surprise when we found the hotel and shopkeeper was dining with the officers of the regiment! King’s officers may allow of this, but it would never be permitted at the mess of a regiment of the Honourable Company; perhaps his being sheriff formed the excuse. It was too late to procure dinner from another house; the boatmen would wait no longer, and our hungry party returned on board to get refreshment from the steward.
The night was one of extreme beauty—the scene at the jetty under the rocks was delightful; the everlasting roar of the breakers that at times dash over the parapet wall, united with the recollections awakened by the island, all produce feelings of seriousness and melancholy. There is a cavern in the rock which is nearly full at high water, and the rush into and retreat of the waves from that hollow is one cause of the great noise of the breakers.
19th.—Birds were offered for sale in the street; they appeared very beautiful; the St. Helena red birds, the avadavats, Cape sparrows, and green canaries were to be purchased. I dislike birds in a cage, although I took home four parrots from Calcutta, two of which died off the Cape during the rolling and pitching of that uneasy sea. Quitted St. Helena at 10 A.M.
Our Indian wars, propped up by the old bugbear of a Russian invasion, and the discovery of one thing, at least, the intrigues of Russian emissaries, seem to have excited more than usual interest in England, Her Most Gracious Majesty having been pleased to notice our preventive movements to the north-west in her speech on the prorogation of the House. The 16th Lancers are amongst the fortunate who are actually to return. All speak of the campaign as most distressing from climate and privation of all sorts, and the popular king, the beloved of his subjects, turns out to be as popular as Louis le Desiré. In February 1839, M. le Général Allard, that most agreeable and gentlemanlike man, died at Peshawar. How much I regretted that circumstances prevented my accepting his escort and invitation to visit Lahore! I should have enjoyed seeing the meeting between the Governor-General and the old Cyclops Runjeet Singh.
We have received a letter from a friend in the 16th Lancers; he says, the thermometer is 108° in tents; that they have suffered greatly, both man and horse, for want of supplies; that camp followers are on quarter, and the troops on half allowance, receiving compensation for the deficit. The army set out on their march from our provinces in the highest spirits, dreaming of battle, promotion, and prize-money,—they are now to a man heartily sick of a campaign which promises nothing but loss of health—no honour, no fight, no prize-money, no promotion.
The following are interesting extracts:—
“Jellalabad, Oct. 28th, 1839.
“Soon after the army left Shikerpūr in the end of February, our difficulties commenced; and we no sooner got on the limits of what is laid down in the maps as a marshy desert, than we suffered from a very great scarcity of water, and were obliged to make long and forced marches to get any: through the Bolan Pass we got on tolerably well; the road winds a great part of the way up the shingly bed of a river, and the halting places were like the sea-beach. But no sooner had we arrived at Quetta, in the Valley of Shawl, than the native troops and camp followers suffered in earnest; the former were placed on an allowance of half a seer, and the latter of a quarter daily; and grain was selling at two seers for a rupee. In this manner, proceeding more like a beaten army than an advancing one, the cavalry not supplied with any grain, and falling by tens and twenties daily, we reached Candahar. It has always appeared to me a mercy that we had up to this point no enemy to oppose us. We remained two months in Candahar, where we recruited a good deal in the condition of our horses, but the heat was excessive, 110° in our tents, and the men became unhealthy. From Candahar to Ghuznee we got on better, and the storm and capture of that fort had a wonderful effect on our spirits. Ghuznee, naturally and by art made a very strong fortification, was most gallantly carried, and with very trifling loss; the cavalry of course had nothing to do, nor have we through the campaign, though we have been harassed and annoyed more than at any period of the Peninsular War. As to the country we have passed through from the Sir-i-Bolan to the boundary of the hot and cold countries, two marches from this nearer Cabul, there is a great sameness, with the exception of the outline of the mountain scenery, which has always been wild, rugged, and magnificent; but the total absence of trees, and almost entire want of vegetation, excepting near the towns of Quetta, Candahar, and Cabul, and some very few villages situated near a stream, give an appearance of desolation to the whole country we have passed through. It may be described, with a few excepted spots, as a howling wilderness. With the people I have been much disappointed: from what I had read in Elphinstone and Burnes, I had expected to meet a fine brave patriotic race, instead of which, to judge from what we have seen, they are a treacherous, avaricious, and cowardly set of people; even as bands of robbers and murderers they are cowardly, and in the murders of poor Inverarity of ours, and Colonel Herring, it appears they did not venture an attack, though both were unarmed, till they had knocked their victims down with stones. If these rascals had been endowed with courage and patriotism, we never should be here. I should describe the Afghāns as mean, avaricious, treacherous, cowardly, filthy, generally plunderers and thieves, and universally liars, and withal extremely religious. No one has ever visited Cabul without speaking with delight of its streams, and mountains, and gardens extending for miles, and the endless quantities of delicious fruit and flowers displayed in shops through the bazārs, with a degree of taste that would be no discredit to a Covent Garden fruiterer. Cabul itself is situated in a valley, or rather a hole in a valley, surrounded on three sides by hills; the scenery in all directions is beautiful, but least so towards Hindostan. In the city there are four pakka bazārs, arched, and the interior decorated with paintings of trees and flowers so as almost to resemble fresco. The surrounding country is prodigiously fertile and excellently cultivated; the fields are divided by hedges of poplar and willow-trees; and for the first time since leaving England, I have seen the European magpie. On the 20th of August we lost Colonel Arnold, who had long remained almost in a hopeless state: his liver weighed ten pounds; I do not think he ever recovered the attack he had when you were at Meerut. At Colonel Arnold’s sale, sherry sold at the rate of 212 rupees a dozen; bottles of sauce for 24 rupees each, and of mustard for 35 rupees. At Colonel Herring’s sale, 1000 cigars, or about 1 lb., sold for upwards of one hundred guineas!—this will tell you how well we have been off for such little luxuries. We left Cabul on the 15th inst., and the following morning, passing through a defile, was as cold a one as I ever felt in my life; from the splashing of a stream the ice formed thickly on our sword scabbards and the bottoms of our cloaks; and now the heat is as great in the day as at Meerut,—such are the vicissitudes of climate in this country!