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But though th 3 great charm of the book be derived from the character of its lamented author, we are not sure that this is by any means what will give it its great or most permanent value. Independently of its moral attraction, we are inclined to think it, on the whole, the most instructive and important publication [hat has ever been given to the world, on the actual state and condition of our Indian Empire: Not only exhibiting a more clear, graphic, and intelligible account of the country, ami the various races by which it is peopled, by presenting us with more candid, judicious, and reasonable views of all the great questions relating to its destiny, and our interests and duties with regard to it, than are any where else to be met with. It is the result, no doubt, of a hasty and somewhat superficial survey. But it embraces a very wide and various range, and thus affords the means of correcting errors, which are almost inseparable from a narrower observation; and has, above all, the inestimable advantage of being given while the freshness of the first impression was undiminished, and the fairness of the first judgment unperverted by the gradual accumulation of interests, prejudices, and deference to partial authorities; and given by a man not only free from all previous bias, but of such singular candour, calmness, and deliberation of judgment, that we would, in almost any case, take his testimony, even on a superficial view, against that of a much cleverer person, who, with ampler opportunities, had surveyed or reported with the feelings, consciously or unconsciously cherished, of an advocate, a theorist, a bigot, or a partisan.
Unhappily, almost all who have hitherto had the means of knowing much about India, have been, in a greater or less degree, subject to these influences; and the consequence has boen, that though that great country is truly a portion of our own—and though we may find, in every large town, whole clubs of intelligent men, returned after twenty or thirty years' residence in it in high situations, it is nearly impossible to get any distinct notion of its general condition, or to obtain such information as to its institutions and capacities as may be furnished by an ordinary book of travels, as to countries infinitely less important or easy of access. Various causes, besides the repulsions of a hostile and jealous religion, have conspired to produce this effect. In the first place, the greater part of our revenons have been too long in me other world, to be able to describe it in such a way as to be either interesting or intelligible to the inhabitants of this. They have been too long familiar with its aspect to know how they would strike a stranger; and have confounded, in their passive and incurious impressions, the most trivial and insignificant usages, with practices and principles that are in the highest degree curious, and of the deepest moral conixirnment. In the next place, by far the greater part of these experienced and authoritative residents have seen but a very small portion of the mighty regions with which they are too hastily presumed to be generally acquaint
ed; and have for the most part seen even those, only in the course of some limited professional or official occupation, and only witi the eyes of their peculiar craft or profession. They have been traders, or soldiers, or taxgatherers—with here and there a diplomatic agent, an engineer, or a naturalist—all, too busy, and too much engrossed with the special object of their several missions, to hare time to look to the general condition of the country— and almost all moving through it, with a retinue and accompaniment of authority, which excluded all actual contact with the People, and even, in a great degree, the pos.sibilm o: seeing them in their natural state. \Ve have historical memoirs accordingly, and account* of military expeditions, of great valoe and accuracy; and are beginning to have repor.* of the culture of indigo, of the general profits of trade, and of the heights and structure c/ mountains, that may be depended on. But. with the exception of Mr. Elphiristone'sCa-bul and Sir John Malcolm's Central luia— both relating to very limited and peculiar diftiicts—we have no good account of the coantrj or the people. But by far the worst оЬйгъсtion to the attainment of correct informalKii is to be found in the hostility which ha? prevailed for the last fifteen or twenty year*. Ь tween the adversaries and the advocates of the East India Company and its monopoli; and which has divided almost all w ho are no« able and willing to enlighten us on its concerns, into the champions of opposite factiocf; characterised, we fear we must add, with a full share of the partiality, exaggeration, acd inaccuracy, which has at all times If*:. chargeable upon such champions. In solarf and complicated a subject, there is room of course, for plausible representations on besides; but what we chiefly complain oi :>. that both parties have been so an.xioos to make a case for themselves, that neither of them have thought of stating the whole _w so as to enable the public to judge between them. They have invariably brought lorwb". only what they thought peculiarly favourat v for themselves, or peculiarly unfavourable î'.f the adversary, and have fought to the Durance upon those high grounds of quarrel: b: have left out all that is not prominent and rfmarkable—that is, all that is truly character; istic of the general state of the country, arJ the ordinary conduct of its government:!' reference to which alone, however, the r< magnitude of the alleged benefits or abc** can ever be truly estimated.
It is chiefly for these reasons that we ha« hitherto been shy, perhaps to a blamable e\i cess, in engaging with the great question" '•: I Indian policy, which have of late years en| grossed so much attention. Feeling the«: treme difficulty of getting safe materials :;•: our judgment, we have been conscientioc«.y unwilling to take a decided or leading part in discussions which did not seem to ue to be conducted, on either part, in a «pint of perfect fairness, on a sufficient view of well-established facts, or on a large and comprehensive perception of the principles to »hirb they referred. With a strong general leaning against all monopoly and arbitrary restrictions, we could not but feel that the case of India was peculiar in many respects ; and that more than usual deliberation was due, not only to its vast practical importance, but to the weight of experience and authority that seemed arrayed against our predilections; and we longed, above all things, for a calm and dispassionate statement of facts, from a recent and intelligent observer, unconnected, if possible, either by interest or any other tie, with either of the parties, and untainted even by any preparatory study of their controversies; but applying his mind with perfect freedom and fairness to what fell under his own immediate observation, and recording his impressions with that tranquil sincerity which can scarcely ever be relied on but where the record is meant to be absolutely private, and is consequently made up without any feeling of responsibility, ambition, or deference.
Such a statement, and much more than such a statement, we have in the work before us; and both now, and on all future occasions, we feel that it has relieved us from the chief difficulty we have hitherto experienced in forming our opinions, and supplied the most valuable elements for the discussions to which we have alluded. The author, it must be admitted, was more in connection with the Government than with any party or individual opposed to it, and was more exposed, therefore, to a bias in that direction. But he was, at the same time, so entirely independent of its favours, and so much more removed from its influence than any one with nearly the same means of observation, and was withal of a nature so perfectly candid, upright, and conscientious, that he may be regarded, we think, ая altogether impartial; and we verily believe has set down nothing in this private journal, intended only for his own eye or that of his wife, not only that he did not honestly think, but that he would not have openly stated to the Governor in Council, or to the Court of Directors themselvee.
The Bishop sailed for India with his family, in 1823; and in June 1824, set out on the visitation of his Imperial Diocese, having been obliged, much against his will, to leave his wife and children, on account of their health, behind him. He ascended the Ganges to Dacca and Benares, and proceeded by Oude and Lucknow to Delhi and Agra, and to Almorah at the base of the Himalaya mountains, and so onward through the newly-acquired provinces of Malwah, to Guzerat and Bombay, where he had the happiness of rejoining Mrs. Heber. They afterwards sailed together to Ceylon ; and after some stay in that island, returned, in October 1825, to Calcutta. In January 1826. the indefatigable prelate sailed a^ain for Madras, and proceeded in March to the visitation of the southern provinces; but had only reached Tanjore, when his arduous and exemplary career was cut short, and all his labours of love and duty brought to an end, by a sudden and most unexpected death— having been seized with a fit in stepping into
the bath, after having spent the morning in the offices of religion, on the 3d of April of that year.
The work before us consists of a very copious journal, written for and transmitted to his wife, during his long peregrinations; and of several most valuable and interesting letters, addressed to her, and to his friends in England, in the course of the same journey; all written in a very pleasing, and even elegant, though familiar style, and indicating in every line not only the clear judgment and various accomplishments of the writer, but the singular kindness of heart and sweetness of temper, by which he seems to have been still more distinguished. He surveys every thing with the vigilance and delight of a cultivated and most active intellect—with the eye of an artist, an antiquary, and a naturalist —the feelings and judgment of an English gentleman and scholar—the sympathies of a most humane and generous man—and the piety, charity, and humility of a Christian. The work is somewhat diffuse, and exhibits some repetitions, and perhaps some inconsistencies. It is not such a work, in short, as the author would himself have offered to tho public. But we do not know whether it is not more interesting than any that he could have prepared for publication. It carries us more completely into the very heart of the scenes he describes than any such work could have done, and it admits us more into his intimacy. We pity those, we confess, who find it tedious to accompany such a man on euch a journey.
It is difficult to select extracts from a work like this; or, rather, it is not worth while to stand on selection. We cannot pretend to give any abstract of the whole, or to transfer to our pages any reasonable proportion of the beauty or instruction it contains. We can only justify our account of it by a few specimens, taken very much at random. The following may serve to show the unaffected and considerate kindness with which he treated his attendants, and all the inferior persons who came in contact with him; and the effects of that kindness on its objects.
"Two of my sepoys had been ill for several days, in much the same way with myself. 1 had (reared them in a similar manner, and they were now doing well: But being Brahmins of high caste, I had much difficulty m conquering their scruples and doubts about the physic which I gave them. They both said that they would rather die than taste wine. They scrupled at my using a spoon to measure their castor-oil, and insisted that the water in which their medicines «ere mixed, should be poured by themselves only. They were very grateful however, particularly for the care I took of them when I wa» myself ill. and said repeatedly that the sight of me in good health would be better to them than all medicines. They seemed now free from disease, but recovered their strength more slowly than I did; and 1 was glad to find ilrir the Soubahdar said he was authorized, under such circumstances, to engage a hackery at the Company's expense, to carry mem till they were fit to march. He mentioned this in consequence of my offering them a lift on a camel, which they were afraid of trying."
"I hada singular instance this evening of the fact how mere children all soldiers, and I think particularly sepoys, are, when put a little out of their usual way. On going to the place where my escort was it. I found that there was not room for them all under its shelter, and that four were preparing to sleep on the open field. Within a hundred yards stood another similar hut unoccupied, a little out of repair, but tolerably tenantable. “Why do you not go thither ?" was my question. “We like to sleep altogether,” was their answer. “But why not bring the branches here, and make your own hut larger? see, I will show you the way.' They started up immediately in great apparent delight; every man brought a bough, and the work was done in five minutes—being only interrupted every now and then by exclamations of ‘Good, good, poor man's provider!’”— “A little before five in the morning, the servants came to me for directions, and to say that the good careful old Soubahdar was very ill, and unable to leave his tent. I immediately put on my clothes and went down to the camp, in my way to which they told me, that he had been taken unwell at night, and that Dr. Smith had given him medicine. He opened a vein, and with much humane patience, continued to try different remedies while any chance remained; but no blood flowed, and no sign of life could be detected from the time of his coming up, except a feeble flutter at the heart, which soon ceased. He was at an advanced age, at least for an Indian, though apparently hale and robust. I felt it a comfort that I had not urged him to any exertion, and that in fact I had endeavoured to persuade him to lie still till he was quite well. But I was necessarily much shocked by the sudden end of one who had travelled with me so far, and whose conduct had, in every instance, given me satisfaction. Nor, while writing this, can I recollect without a real pang, his calm countenance and grey hairs, as he sate in his tent door, telling his beads in an afternoon, or walked with me, as he seldom failed to do, through the villages on an evening, with his own silver-hilted sabre under his arm, his loose cotton mantle folded round him, and his golden necklace and Rajpoot string just visible above it. “The death of the poor Soubahdar led to the question, whether there would be still time to send on the baggage. All the Mussulmans pressed our immediate departure; while the Hindoos begged that they might be allowed to stay, at least, till sunset. I determined on remaining, as, in my opinion, more decent and respectful to the memory of a good and aged officer.” “In the way, at Futtehgunge, I passed the tents pitched for the large party which were to return towards Cawnpoor next day, and I was much pleased and gratified by the Soubahdar and the greater number of the sepoys of my old escort running into the middle of the road to bid me another farewell, and again express their regret that they were not going on with me ‘to the world's end.' They who talk of the ingratitude of the Indian character, should, I think, pay a little more attention to cases of this sort. These men neither got nor expected anything by this little expression of good-will. If I had offered them money, they would have been bound, by the rules of the service, and their own dignity, not to take it. Sufficient civility and respect would have been paid if any of them who happened to be near the road had touched their caps, and I really can suppose them actuated by no motive but good-will. It had not been excited, so far as I know, by any particular desert on my part: but I had always spoken to them civilly, had paid some attention to their comforts in securing them tents, firewood, and camels for their knapsacks, and had ordered them a dinner, after their own fashion, on their arrival at Lucknow, at the expense of, I believe, not more than four rupees Surely if good-will is to be bou ht by these sort of attentions, it is a pity that anybody should neglect them.”— “In crossing a nuddee, which from a ford had breome a ferry, we saw some characteristic groups
and occurrences; the price of passage in the boat was only a few cowries; but a number of country folk were assembled, who could not, or would not, pay, and were now sitting patiently by the brink, waiting till the torrent should subside, or, what was far less likely to happen, till the boatmen should take compassion on them. Many of these poor people came up to beg me to make the boatmen take them over, one woman pleading that her ‘malik our bucher,’ (literally master, or lord, and young one) had run away from her, and she wanted to overtake them; another that she and her two grandchildren were following her son, who was a Havildar in the regiment which we had passed just before; and some others, that they had been intercepted the previous day by this torrent, and had neither money nor food till they had reached their homes. Four anas purchased a passage for the whole crowd, of perhaps thirty people, and they were really very thankful. I bestowed two anas more on the poor deserted woman, and a whimsical scene ensued. She at first took the money with eagerness, then, as if she recollected herself, she blushed very deeply, and seemed much confused, then bowed herself to my feet, and kissed my hands, and at last said, in a very modest tone, ‘it was not fit for so great a man as I was, to give her two anas, and she hoped that I and the “chota Sahib,” (little lord) would give her a rupee each '' She was an extremely pretty little woman, but we were inexorable; partly, I believe, in my own case at least, because we had only just rupees enough to take us to Cawnpoor, and to pay for our men's provisions; however, I gave her two more anas, my sole remaining stock of small change.”
These few traits will do, we believe; but we must add a few more, to let the reader fully into the noble humanity and genuine softness of this man's heart.
“In the course of this evening a fellow, who said he was a gao-wala brought me two poor little leverets, which he said he had just found in a field. They were quite unfit to eat, and bringing them was an act of cruelty of which there are few instances among the Hindoos, who are generally humane to wild animals. In this case, on my scolding the man for bringing such poor little things from their mother, all the crowd of camel-drivers and camp-followers, of whom no inconsiderable number were around us, expressed great satisfaction and an entire concurrence in my censure. It ended in the man promising to take them back to the very spot (which he described) where he had picked them up, and in my promising him an ana if he did so. To see him keep his word two stout waggoner's boys immediately volunteered their services, and I have no doubt kept him to his contract.
“The same adviser wanted me to take off a joint of Câbul's tail, under the hair, so as not to injure his appearance. “It was known,” he said, ‘that by how much the tail was made shorter, so much the taller the horse grew.’ I said “I could not believe that God gave any animal a limb too much, or one which tended to its disadvantage, and that as He had made my horse, so he should remain." This speech, such as it was, seemed to chime in wonderfully with the feelings of most of my hearers; and one old man said, that “during all the twenty-two years that the English held the country, he had not heard so grave and godly a saying from any of them before.” *... of Sancho Panza and his wise apophthegms!
“Our elephants were receiving their drink at a well, and I gave the largest some bread, which, before my illness, I had often been in the habit of doing. ‘He is glad to see you again," observed the goomashta, and l certainly was much struck by the calm, clear, attentive, intelligent eye which he fixed on me, both while he was eating, and afterwards while I was patting his trunk and talking about him.
He was. he said, a fine-tempered beast, but the two others were 'great rascals.' One of them had once almost killed his keeper. I have got these poor beasts' allowance increased, in consideration of their lung march; and that they may not be wronged, have ordered the mohout to give them all their gram in presence oí a sentry. The gram is made up in cakes, about as large as the top of a hat-box, and baked on an earthen pot. Each contains a seer, and sixteen of them are considered as sufficient for one day's food for an elephant on a march. The suwarree elephant had only twelve, but I ordered him the full allowance, as well as an increase to tho others. If they knew this, they would indeed be
glad to see me."
"The morning was positively cold, and the whole scene, with the exercise of the march, the picturesque groups of men and animals round me,—the bracing air, the singing of birds, the light misi hanging on the trees, and the glistening dew, had something at once so Oriental and so English, 1 have seldom found any thing better adapted to raise a man's animal spirits, and put him in good temper wiih himself and all the world. How I wish those I love were with me! How much my wife would enjoy this sort of life,—its exercise, its cleanliness, and purity; its constant occupation, and at the same lime iis comparative freedom from form, care, and vexaiion! At the same time a man who is curious in his eating had betler not come here. Lamb and kid (and we get no other flesh) moat people would soon tire of. The only fowls which are attainable are as lough and lean ns can be desired; and the milk and butter are generally seasoned with the never-failing condiments of Hindostán—smoke and soot. These, however, are matters to which it is rot difficult to become reconciled; and all the more serious pointa of warmth, shade, cleanliness, air, and water, are at this season nowhere enjoyed butter tlian in the spacious and well-contrived tents, ihe ample means of transport, the fine climate, and fertile regions of Northern Hindostán. Anoiher lime, by (iod's blessing, I will not be alone in this Eden; yet I confess that there are few people whom I greaily wish to have as associates in such a journey. It is only a wife, or a friend so intimate as to be quite another self, whom one is really anxious to be with one while travelling through a new country."
Instead of wishing, as we should have expected a Bishop to do, to move in the dignified and conspicuous circle at the seat of Government, it is interesting to find this exemplary person actually languishing for a more retired and obscure situation.
"Do you know, dearest, that I sometimes think we should be more useful, and happier, if Cawnpoor or Benares, not Calcutta, were our home?— My visitations would be made with far more convenience, the expense of house rent would be less to the Company, and our own expenses of living would be reduced very considerably. The air, even of Cawnpoor, is, I apprehend, better than thai of Bengal, and that of Benares decidedly so. The greater part of my business wiih government may be done as well by letters as personal interviews; •nd, if the Archdeacon of Calcutta were resident there, it seems more natural that the Bishop of India should remain in the centre of his diocese.— The only objection is the great number of Christians in Calcutta, and the consequent probability that my preaching is more uselul there than it would be any where else. We may talk these points over when we meet."
One of the most characteristic passages in the book, is the account of his interview with a learned and very liberal Brahmin in Guzerat, whom he understood to teach a far purer morality than is usually enjoined by his brethren, and also to discountenance the distinction of
castes, and to inculcate a signal toleration We can now afford, however, to give little more than the introductory narrative.
"About eleven o'clock I had the expected visit from Swaamee Narain, to my interview wiih whom I had looked forward with an anxiety and eagerne-sa which, if he had known it, would perhaps have flattered him. He came in a somewhat different style from what I expected; having with him nearly two hundred horsemen, mostly well-armed wiiii matchlocks and swords, and lèverai of them wiih coats of mail and spears. Besides them he had a large rabble on foot, with bows and arrows; and when I considered that I hod myself more than fifty horse, and fifty muskets and bayonets, I could not help smiling, though my sensations were in some degree painful and humiliating, at the idea of two religious teachers meeting at the head of little armies! and filling the city, which was the scone of their interview, with the rattling of quivers, the clash of shields, and the tramp of the war-horse. Had our troops been opposed to each other, mine, though less numerous, would have been doubtless far more effective, from the superiority of arms and discipline. But, in moral grandeur, what a difference was there between his troop and mine! Mine, neither knew me nor cared for me. They escorted me faithfully, and would have defended me bravely, because they were ordered by their superiors to do so; and as they would have done for any other stranger of sufficient worldly rank to make such attendance usual. The guards of Swaamee Narain were his own disciples and enthusiastic admirers; men who had voluntarily repaired to hear his lessons, who now took a pride in doing him honour, and who would cheerfully fight to the last drop of blood rather than suffer a fringe of his garment to be handled roughly. In the parish of Hodnet there were once perhnps a few honest countrymen who felt something like this forme ; but how long a time must elapse before any Christian teacher in India can hope to be thus loved and honoured!
"After the usual mutual complimenta, I said that I had heard much good of him, and the good doctrine which he preached among the poor people of Guzerat, and that I greatly desired his acquaintance; that I regretted that I knew Hindosianee •• imperfectly, but that I should be тегу glad, so lar as my knowledge of the language allowed, and by the interpretation of friends, to learn what he believed on religious matters, and to tell him what I myself believed ; and that if he would come and pee meat Kairah, where we should have more leisure. I would have a tent pitched for him and treat him like a brother. I said this, because I was very earnestly desirous of getting him a copy of the Scriptures, of which I had none with me, in the Nagree character, and persuading him ю read them; and because I had some further hopes of inducing him (o go with me to Bombay, where I hoped that, by conciliatory treatment, and iho conversations to which I might introduce him wiih the Church Missionary Society established in ihot neighbourhood. I might do him more good than I could otherwise hope.
"I saw thnt both he, and, still more, his disciples, were highly pleased by the invitation which I pave him; but he said, in reply, that his life was one of very little leisure ; that he had five thousand disciples now attending on his preaching in the neighbouring villages, and nearly fifty thousand in different parts of Guzerat; that a great number of these were to assemble together in the course of next week, on occasion of his brother's son coming of age to receive the Brahminical string; but that if I staid long enough in the neighbourhood to allow him to get thie engagement over, he would gladly come again to see me. 'In the meantime/ I said, 'hav« you any objection to communicate some pnrt of V'^ur doctrine nowf* It was evidently what he came to do; and his disciples very visibly exulted in the opportunity of his perhaps converting tu."
The conference is too long to extract, bat it is very curious; though the result fell something short of what the worthy Bishop, in the zeal of his benevolence, had anticipated.— We should now leave the subject of the author's personal character ; but it shines out so strongly in the account of the sudden death of one of his English friends and fellow-travellers, that we cannot refrain from gratifying our readers and ourselves with one other extract. Mr. Stowe, the individual alluded to, died î.fter a short illness at Dacca. The day after his burial, the Bishop writes to his wife as follows :—
"Sincerely as I have mourned, and do mourn him continually, the moment perhaps at which I lelt his loss most keenly was on my return 10 this house. I had always after airings, or other short absences, been accustomed to run up immediately to his room to ask about hie medicines and his nourishment, to find if he had wanted any thing during my absence, and to tell him what I had seen and heard. And now, as I went up stairs, I felt most painfully that the object of my solicitude was gone, and that there was nobody now to derive comfort or help from my coming, or whose eyes would faintly sparkle as 1 opened the door.
"It will be long before I forget the guilelessness of his nature, ihe interest which he felt and expressed in all the beautiful and sequestered scenery which we passed through; his anxiety to he useful to me in any way which I could point out to him, (he was indeed very useful.) and above all, the unaffected pleasure which he took in discussing religious subject«; his diligence in studying the Bible, and the tearless humanity with which he examined ihe case, and administered to the wants, of nine poor Hindoos, the crew of a salt-barge, whom, as I mentioned in my Journal, we found lying sick together of a jungle fever, unable to leave the place where they lav, and unaided by the neighbouring villagers. linen little thought how eoon he in his turn would require the aid he gave so cheerfully."
On the day after, he writes ¡n these terms to Miss Stowe, the sister of his departed
Г * Л
"With a heavy heart, my dear Mies Stowe, I eend you the enclosed keys. How to offer you consolation in your present grief, I know not; for by my own deep sense of the loss of an excellent friend, I know how much heavier must be your burden. Separation of one kind or another is. indeed, one of the most frequent trials to which affectionate hearts are exposed. And if you can only regard your brother as removed for hi« own advantage to a distant country, you will find, perhaps, some of that misery alleviated under which you are now suffering. Had you remained in England when he came out hiiher. you would have been, for a time, divided no less effectually than you are now. The difference of hearing from him is almost all; and though you now have not that comfort, yet even without hearing from him you may be well persuaded (which there you could not always have been) that he is well and happy; and, above all, you may be persuaded, as yourdear brother was most fully in his time of severest suffering, that God never smites his children in vain, or out of cruelty.
"So long as you choose to remain with us, we will be, to our power, a sister and a brother to you. And it may be worth your consideration whether, in your present state of health and spirits, a journey, in my wife'« society, will not be better for you than a dreary voyage home. But this is a point on which you must decide for yourself; I would scarcely venture to advise, far le« dictate, where I
am only anxious to serve. In my dear Emir тэт will already have haJ a most affectionate ami каeible counsellor."
We dare not venture on any part, either of the descriptions of scenery and antiquities, or of the persone and presentations at the several native courts. But we have no hesitation m recommending them as by far the best airi most interesting, ¡n both sorts, that we have ever met with. The account of his jouraevings and adventures in the mountain region at the foot of the Himalaya is peculiarly stnkur. from the affecting resemblance the author i? continually tracing to the scenery of his beloved England, his more beloved Wale«, Of his most beloved Hodnet! Of the natives, in all their orders, he is a most indulgent a:J liberal judge, as well as a very exact observer He estimates their civilisation higher, we think, than any other traveller who bas given an account of them, and is very much «truck with the magnificence of their architecture— though very sceptical as to the high antiqm;to which some of its finest specimens prêter.J. We cannot afford to give any of the splendid and luminous descriptions in which the work abounds. In a private letter he says,—
"I had heard much of the airy and gaudy itjlc of Oriental architecture; a notion, I apprrh- c, taken from that of С hiña only, since solidity.*...-иnity, and a richness of ornament, so well manii'i as not to interfere with solemnity, are the cfurjc(eristics of all the ancient buildings which I ha« met with in this country. 1 recollect no correspo: •:• ing parts of Windsor at all equal to the entrence of the castle of Delhi and its marble hall of aadience ; and even Delhi falls very short of Agn in situation, in majesty of outline, in size, з-..ií ¡he costliness and beauty of it« apartment*."
The following is a summary of his opir.ioc of the people, which follows in the same letter:
"Of the people, «o far as their natural chanc'cr is concerned!, I nave been led to form, on the •bolt, a very favourable opinion. They hare. unhappilymany of the vice« arising from slavery, from n •!"• settled slate of society, and immoral and em>nr»i< system« of religion. But they are men of hifh s:«i gallant courage, courteous, intelligent, and most eager after knowledge and improvement, with г remarkable aptitude for the abstract science». gK-mttry, astronomy, Ate., and for ihe imitalir» art». painting end sculpture. They «re «ober, indu»trious, dutiful to their parents, and afiéctioraie 'o their children, of tempers almost uniformly fítitlí and patient, and more easily affected by kindnt» and attention to their wants and feelings than aim«! any men whom I have met with. Their hull seem to arise from the hateful «uperetiiions to which they are subject, and the unfavourable stair oí society in which they are placed.
"More has been done, and more soccewfollr. to obviate these evils in the Presidency of Bombiy. than in any part of India which I hare ret ntfti. through the wise and liberal policy of Mr. Elph"" «tone; to whom thi« side of the Penmen!» » ai« indebted for some very important and efficient improvement« in the administration of justice, inl who, both in amiable temper and mtnnm. «r«isive and various information, acute good teiaf, energy, and application to business, i» one of tlx most extraordinary men, aa he is qnite the m»t popular governor, that I have fallen in with."
The following is aleo very important; and give» more new and valuable informât*»