Empires of the Plain: Henry Rawlinson and the Lost Languages of Babylon

Henry’s ambitions began to stir when he was finally noticed: ‘Sir John drank wine with me at dinner … it will be no very difficult thing to bring myself into his notice as most of my fellow passengers are sad stupes. He scribbles poetry so I’ll try an ode … We have been crossing the Bay of Biscay these last two days and I have hitherto escaped sickness. I think myself pretty safe now for the rest of my voyage.’18 But for 11 July he recorded: ‘Rather stormy and very heavy sea which made me a little sick but nothing to signify – have been talking to Sir John Malcolm – shall never persuade myself to cringe and toad-eat him as some of the fellows do … indeed I cannot think he likes it as he is a very clever man himself and often says that everyone’s promotion must depend on his own talents and he will never give a place to any one unfit for it, however strongly recommended – can get no one to join me in my Hindoostanee as they are all only just beginning. Played some whist … and by a continued run of good cards cleaned them out of 14 shillings. I have now, Maria, written one sheet of my promised journal and will send it by the first conveyance.’19

The next day a severe storm threatened: ‘We have now passed the Bay of Biscay and they say the coast of Spain was to be seen … After dinner there was a tolerable commotion as the Captain … prognosticated a hurricane. The sails were all taken down or furled, the decks were cleared and we all waited in anxious suspense. The stormy Petrel skimmed along the waves, the sky became covered with lurid and spiral clouds and the waves rose portentously – however like the fable of the mountain and the mouse, while we were thus all raised to the highest pitch of expectation, a few gulls huddled fitfully among the shrouds, a few large heavy drops descended upon the deck and it was gone. The waves again subsided, the sails were unfurled and we soon left far behind us the boisterous and uneasy waters of the Bay of Biscay. This is my first adventure and I flatter myself I have described it very prettily.’20

A week into the voyage brought better weather, but Henry’s mood remained melancholy: ‘This has been the first warm day. The evening was delightful – the blue expanse of heaven where the stars glittered with ethereal splendour was lighted occasionally by gleaming meteors, and the silent and placid water over which we glided appeared frequently ignited. The luminous nature of the phosphorus sometimes sparkling and sometimes winding in wreaths of transient light around the vessel occasioned this extraordinary appearance … had I been in the company of Georgiana or Maria, I had [would have] been happy – but real pure happiness I have lost for at least 10 years if not for ever. In future every pleasure I enjoy must be embittered with the reflexions that I have no one who loves me to share it with me, and what are all the delights and enjoyments of the body compared with pure genuine and unsophisticated love!’21

The next day, Henry suffered his first proper bout of seasickness: ‘Very high sea and the waves were really for some time beautiful, but the ship rolled so, that I was for the first time sea sick and so was deprived of the pleasure of viewing them – however after I had slept for an hour, eaten a hearty dinner and drank lots of wine I was quite well.’22 He went on to regret the lack of women on board – these was only one (Sir John’s daughter), and she was married. Gradually, Henry became more confident with the people on board and professed admiration for Sir John, who ‘must be an exceedingly clever person, and he seems possessed of such a fund of anecdotes that though he has been unremittingly employed in telling stories ever since he came on board, he still goes on at such a rate as to keep the whole table in a continual roar in which he himself always heartily joins’.23 Many of his tales were of Persian history and literature, which inspired Henry to resume studying Persian when he reached India. Sir John also believed it his duty to urge all the cadets on board to strive for the greatest success, encouraging them throughout the journey by lending them books and giving them tasks to perform, such as copying out his manuscripts.

At last Henry was enjoying himself: ‘After tea we have plenty of amusements beginning with fencing and singlestick – afterwards dancing and music and finishing with chess, cards, backgammon &c. We have a little band on board belonging to the ship consisting of clarionets, fifes, trumpet, violin and drum, which they play reels, waltzes, the quadrilles as much as we like. Sir John goes on laughing, talking and story telling as much as ever … I have not yet given way to my temper at all, notwithstanding I have had many provocations.’24 Henry also recorded that he was now ‘quite an expert sailor, having been up higher [in the rigging] than any of the Passengers except McDougal, who is a regular dab at it. All laugh at him about his foolhardiness, but I must own that I admire it.’25 His own bravado and agility would later serve him well when climbing the rock face of Bisitun.

What Henry regretted was his tendency to drink too much wine, and after one particularly heavy session drinking punch, he felt quite unwell and was ‘determined to be abstemious’,26 though soon after he was drinking his brother Abram’s health on his birthday ‘in a bumper of claret’.27 He might try to be abstemious, but he could not avoid wine and beer altogether, for the water on board was so bad that Henry refused to drink it. Personal hygiene must also have been sparing, to judge from the advice given to cadets: ‘Washing of linen is not permitted at sea, as the fresh water cannot be spared for it. Hence it will be proper for the Cadet not to change his linen oftener than is absolutely necessary to his own comfort and decent appearance before other persons.’28 The cadet manual set great store by proper appearance, but said nothing about smell, although now they were in a warm climate, the cadets could bathe in a sail filled with sea water. On one occasion in a dead calm, they ignored the advice of the Neptune’s crew concerning sharks and dived into the sea for a swim, until a cry of ‘War Shark’ caused a frantic rush for the ship, with Henry being first to haul himself up on a rope. The crew caught the huge shark, and Henry recorded that ‘they then cut a slice out of his Cheek and gave us shark cutlets for breakfast, which I beg to state were extremely tasty’.29

After only a fortnight into the voyage, Henry was already overcoming his homesickness, as he admitted to Maria: ‘this sheet is written in a different tone from the last, but my dearest Maria, though I am now tolerably comfortable, I still and ever shall think of my absent sisters with the deepest affection and hoping they will not forget me’.30 Towards the end of August, he published his first issue of Herald of the Deep, a weekly newspaper, copied out by hand, for the amusement of the passengers, in which he included anonymously poems that he had written. Amusements aside, Henry could not avoid the reality that he was travelling to India to join the army, whose discipline was made apparent towards the end of the journey when a private of the Dragoons was court-martialled for impudence to his corporal and received a sentence of one hundred lashes. ‘The flagillators would not cut it in tight,’ Henry noted, ‘so that the fellow got tolerably well off, never uttering a sound during the process – the punishment was nothing to what I had been led to expect.’31

On Friday 26 October 1827, Bombay came into view, and from now on Henry regarded the date of 26 October as very special, ‘my fatal day during all the early part of my life – especially in cycles of 6 years’.32 As the ship approached the coast of India and the view of Bombay grew steadily clearer, Henry wrote an excited journal entry, the last of the voyage: ‘I cannot be melancholy now, but Oh! How I wish you were here to enjoy my pleasure with me – the picture is beautiful – islands, mountains, boats, ships, tents, blacks, whites, browns, greens, Oh it is lovely after 4 months of sea and sky.’33

Two: From Poona to Panwell

The low-lying fortified island of Bombay (now called Mumbai) was known as Bom Bahia (‘good bay’) when it was a Portuguese possession. In 1661 it became British when ceded to Charles II as part of the dowry of his Portuguese wife, Catherine of Braganza, and seven years later it was leased to the East India Company for an annual rent of £10. The city with its sheltered harbour developed rapidly as more islands were reclaimed from the marshland, and apart from the fort and esplanade, there was an extensive native town. Over two decades before Henry Rawlinson’s arrival, a fire broke out in the fort, which led to the destruction of many houses, but allowed improved rebuilding along wider streets.

Rawlinson initially attended cadet classes, but was soon attached as ensign, the lowest-ranking officer, to the 2nd European Infantry Regiment, known as the Bombay Buffs. His first military duty was Saturday 1 December 1827, when he attended the early morning muster of the regiment. The next day he agreed to accompany a shooting party, explaining to his sisters that Sundays were not regarded as a holy day of rest: ‘This day is considered here as no more than any other day with respect to shooting, playing billiards &c. Indeed it is generally pitched upon us an excursion day; notwithstanding how much your ideas of propriety may be shocked, you must not consider us at anything particular in us rising at 2 in the morning, and having sent our servants on before with lots of tuck, in starting with guns, powder and shot on a shooting excursion to Kourlee in Salsette.’1 They arrived just as it was light enough to begin shooting, and, wrote Rawlinson, ‘No sooner had we began to beat than four quails got up, at which of course I immediately blazed away, and running to pick up my game was rather astounded at perceiving the effect of my shott in a group of beaters … lying prostrate and bleeding on the ground – they had just left the road to begin beating, and being hidden from my sight by a thin bush received the whole contents of my charge to their no slight confusion and dismay – only one was hurt at all seriously, who had about a dozen shot a few inches in his legs and face – however he was speedily reconciled to his condition by a douceur of 2 rupees.’2

This was the first time Rawlinson had seen anything of the Indian countryside, which to him appeared ‘extremely prepossessing. The woods were filled with birds of the brightest colours and butterflies of a magnitude which [would] rather surprise Georgiana.’3 Wildlife abounded, and conservation was never an issue, only the sport. The day’s shooting was fairly successful, and Rawlinson told his sisters: ‘The following items compose my days sport – 6 beaters, more or less damaged, 3 black pigeons, one splendid kingfisher, one muena (a most beautiful blue and scarlet bird), one hoopooe, 2 quails both lost in the long grass, one hawk, one rook, one gull, one paddy bird and eight sand snipers – we were much disappointed at not meeting with any partridges … We had lots of beer and returned home very merry at about 9 oclock at night racing our buggies all the way.’4 At the age of seventeen he found himself in an exotic world where he wielded power even as the lowest-ranking officer and, compared to the indigenous population, immense riches – for an immature young man it was intoxicating.

Military activities for Rawlinson in India were not onerous, though he studied with a native language teacher (a munshi). The day after his excursion he declared himself ‘too lazy to do much with my moonshee’.5 Instead, he went pigeon shooting with his friends Hogg and Philipps: ‘I backed every shot of mine against theirs at a rupee a shot and after about two hours shooting I came off a winner of fifteen rupees … I rode my horse in the evening being the first time for this last week as he has been in physick – saw a good many cronies on the Esplanade and dealt out a little nonsense to my friend Mrs Hull, by far the prettiest lady there.’6

Next occurred an event that threatened his future in the army: ‘Met Brown who asked me to dine with him at seven which I accordingly did, found a party of 8 jolly fellows assembled at dinner and spent the pleasantest evening I ever did since I have been here – lots of Claret, Beer, Punch – and sallying out for a lark at about 10 oclock, commenced levelling all the tents in the vicinity – it was glorious fun, but I am afraid we shall get into a terrible row about it. I am always exceedingly sorry after such parties that I have made myself such a fool, yet I have not sufficient resolution to resist the temptation of attending them.’7 The following day an official complaint was made of their behaviour, and Rawlinson was dismayed at the possible outcome: ‘there seems every probability of our being brought to a Court Martial and dismissed the service. I am really quite disgusted with the world now – if I am now really cashiered for such a trifling offence, I shall immediately tell the fellows who prosecute that they are no gentlemen and if they shoot me they may – if I survive I shall enter into the King of Persia’s services and try if I cannot make some figure in the world there. India is too narrow a field for my ambition – everything here goes by interest and it is impossible to get into notice unless patronized by some of the Grandees. I cannot bear the idea of creeping unknown through the world.’8 To his relief, no more was heard of the court martial and he vowed never to get drunk again.

By now Rawlinson was hoping to receive letters from home, but was bitterly disappointed when the Upton Castle came in. ‘Out of sight, out of mind,’ he complained, ‘I suppose I am now entirely forgotten by all my friends in England … I have [made] minute enquiries and find that there is no letter, packet or parcel of any description, come out for me by the Upton Castle, which has not only surprised but greatly annoyed me as I did not expect to be forgotten quite so soon as it appears I am.’9

The following Sunday he marched to church with the regiment, but was not impressed with the service: ‘Carr the clergyman gave us a terrible long sermon about Serjeant Tedman who has lately “gone out”. The deaths here are really quite awful.’10 Among Europeans in India the death rate was especially high, from causes such as malaria, cholera, dysentery, smallpox, dog bites, snakes and scorpions. Because of these threats, Rawlinson considered a new career in England: ‘I am frequently resolved to adopt an entirely new course of life, to give up all the future prospect of glory and delight, which I have so often and so fondly pictured to my ardent mind, and turn religious. I used at one time certainly to be really pious and in a fit state to be called into the presence of my maker, but I was then a child, I was then a stranger to the temptations of the world and had then never experienced what I am afraid I shall never have sufficient strength and resolution to withstand.’11 He had little regard for Carr, adding: ‘I am not as yet sufficiently under the influence of the Spirit of God to relish three hours prosing controversy on disputed texts … I hope and trust I may in time acquire the power of abstracting my mind in prayer which for any length of time, I find at present particularly difficult.’12 The subject of religion was a recurring topic in Rawlinson’s early journals, and it obviously bothered him that, as a Christian, his beliefs were not as strong as he wished.

He was now hard at work studying Hindustani and in mid-December wrote: ‘I was obliged to go to Fort George to meet my new Moonshee at 10 oclock. I like him much better than the last; tho’ he is a little high and connected, he is certainly very clever and I stand a much greater chance of improving under his tuition.’13 Three days later he was less happy, writing that he ‘waited for my moonshee till 10 oclock – blew him up sky high for not coming earlier – he tells me I shall not pass unless I fagg very hard – now as it is impossible to fagg even tolerably hard in this climate, I shall give up all ideas of passing this examination and not try until the next.’14

A mood of depression set in, fuelled by unhappiness at receiving no word from England on the arrival of two more ships, especially as all the other officers received letters, ‘which makes my disappointment more cutting’.15 On Sunday 16 December, Rawlinson marched to church early in the morning with his regiment, but was suffering from a bad cold and sore throat, so did not go out again afterwards: ‘I have been very low all day. I neither like the climate, country, inhabitants or profession and shall be most heartily glad to get back to England again. If an officer has neither a regimental, nor general staff appointment his life here must be the idlest, and least profitable, occupation in the World – far from being able to lay by money, his pay will be inadequate to his expenses, especially if at a dear station like Bombay – my mind is I think extremely fickle. I am sometimes elated with ideas of wealth, glory and happiness, and again if anything should happen to depress my spirits (such as those bitter disappointments in not hearing from England) I can see nothing before me but want, penury and distress. Oh money, money, how vain and yet how indispensable thou art in a great measure to human happiness.’16

To add to his mood, on Monday he received ‘another blowing up … for not attending parade at gunfire, for which however I had never received any orders … I am in future to attend all parades’.17 He had, though, decided to take his Hindustani examination in the new year after all, even though it was difficult to work: ‘Fag a little now and then with my moonshee; I am fully aware of the necessity of the most assiduous study, if I hope to be ready for the next examination, yet such is the relaxing nature of the climate, that it is with the utmost difficulty I can bring myself to get even a page of the Bagh & Buhar [a story written to teach students Hindustani] ready for my moonshee – there is consequently very little if any chance of my passing in January … I really must fagg … these lazy habits will not do. I must study 4 hours a day at least … I have not been out to a party this age – it is really very stupid here and if I can but pass next month, get posted to a regiment and start off up the country, why I may perhaps be a little more comfortable.’18 He had now been in Bombay just fifty-two days.

Rawlinson still indulged in shooting, going to dinner, drinking tea, writing poetry and a play, and singing at parties, even though he claimed not to have attended any party recently. On 22 December his first poem was published in the Bombay Courier. Eleven verses long and entitled On the first sight of land, the poem appeared ‘with a most insulting Editor’s note’.19 Wisely, Rawlinson used a pseudonym, because reaction was not favourable: ‘With respect to the poetry in the Courier, there are various opinions concerning it, and as it is considered by the majority to be trash, I have not ventured to avow the authorship except to a few of my particular cronies.’20 Further disappointment occurred when another ship came in with no mail, but Rawlinson was now somewhat happier. On 24 December he noted: ‘The parade bugle sounded at gunfire and we marched out to a grand Brigade parade – there were four regiments consisting altogether of about 3000 men … I know enough of the drill now to manoeuvre with any company and got through the parade without a single blunder.’21

On Christmas Day, he admitted: ‘I begin to like my situation a great deal better than I have done as I am getting better acquainted with my fellow officers. I used to fancy that they treated me particularly coldly, which I supposed had arisen from the row I had got into about the tents … I have in fact hardly any doubt that this was the case. I am fully resolved now never to indulge in future at any of the mess parties so as to get in the least inebriated. I do it chiefly out of my love of fun and jollity and certainly not out of any fondness for liquor, as with the exception of a few wines I absolutely hate.’22

In late January 1828 he was working hard for his examination, as he explained to Maria in his journal: ‘I … really do begin to have some hopes of success in the examination which takes place on Febry 15. The Regiment is to start for Deesa on the 5th of February (your birthday). I have not made up my mind as yet to what course I shall adopt with respect to stopping in Bombay after the Corps is gone, but rather think I shall apply for leave to pitch my tent on the Esplanade and do nothing until the Examinations … My Monshees encourage me and tell me that there is a very good chance of my passing, but I am by no means confident of any knowledge as I find myself woefully deficient in the Colloquial examination which we have to undergo.’23 Due to a scarcity of officers, Rawlinson’s application to remain in Bombay and work for his examination in two weeks’ time was refused, but when he found himself called as a witness in a court case at Bombay, he transferred to the 7th Native Infantry Regiment: ‘I am at present living in a tent in the seventh lines, that is with the officers of the Seventh Reg., with which corps I am now doing duty. My old Corps the Europeans left Bombay for Deesa about a week ago and I got myself removed from them to the seventh in order to wait for the examination.’24

On Saturday 16 February, the examination over, Rawlinson wrote: ‘I was called up the very first which is a great disadvantage, and my examination did not last more than half an hour during which time however they kept me pretty well close at it – Courts Martial to be translated, General Orders to be read off in Hindoostanee, Bagh & Buhar, Idiomatical Questions and Conversations by a Moonshee (who by the bye happened rather fortunately to be my own private Moonshee) formed the Ordeal – and as I got through them all pretty tolerably, if I have not passed I am close upon it.’25 Should he fail, Rawlinson was determined not to give up: ‘I shall go up again in May when I think I shall be pretty sure of passing – if they give me an affirmative I shall immediately begin to study Persian in readiness for the Russian Invasion.’26

‘My old Moonshee has just entered with the news – I have not passed,’ continued Rawlinson’s journal, ‘I was within an inch of passing and in fact ought to have passed. There are five members, two of whom voted for me and 3 against – my translations both from Hindostanee into English and from English into Hindoostanee were actually the best of the whole lot.’27 One reason for failure was not being sufficiently acquainted with idiomatic expressions, or ‘the manners of the natives’,28 but the examiners also thought Rawlinson too young and immature. Had he been in India two or three months longer, they would have passed him, even without doing as well. Sensitive to failure, Rawlinson wrote that ‘they mentioned all this in the report which was sent to the Commander in Chief, but he did not think fit to publish it in General Orders, as recommended by the Committee, which I consider a great shame. There were only 4 passed out of 10. I consider myself perfectly sure of it next May – and as I am subpoened to Hockin’s trial at the end of April, it will be no inconvenience to me stopping here.’29 He was heartened by the support of the governor Sir John Malcolm: ‘I went out to breakfast with him and he talked to me a good deal about it, advising to fag hard to be ready for the next time.’30

Rawlinson also continued his Classical studies, as he reminisced years later: ‘I kept up my Latin and Greek and translated Greek Chorusses for the Bombay Gazette … I was a fair classic in those days – and when an Inscription was wanted I remember being asked to write it for the Municipality of Bombay.’31 Indulging as well his love of writing, he was thrilled to be published again, as he noted in mid-March: ‘I have again appeared in print – my muse this time has taken a classical flight and I have translated a Chorus from Aeschylus. I had the satisfaction to hear one day at dinner a Captain of the 7th – who is considered a clever man, say in reading it – “This is very very good only a little too long to be read”. This is the delight of anonymous publication – that single sentence of accidental praise was worth to me a month of labour.’32