1898 [India]
Today we went to visit the Maharajah, for when he is well enough he likes to see his English guests. The palace is squalor itself and a labyrinth of narrow dark passages; I think nearly all royal palaces are that except those in the large cities. We were ushered into a room that was darker than any of them and in the centre, in the dim light, the Rajah sat, a tiny being, in the very middle of a plain charpoy [bedstead] with various nondescript people in attendance; round three sides of the room were small wooden cages of canaries whose voices made those of any other created being inaudible. The Maharajah is a dwarf, a cripple and paralysed in his legs, but his disabilities have not prevented him being a good ruler and loved by his subjects. He sat like some strange, half human creature with wholly human eyes, shaking hands with us all before we took our seats on the four chairs, two on either side of His Highness. Close to him sat the heir, a boy of perhaps eleven years old who is his nephew, very grandly dressed. It was rather trying, for the Maharajah said nothing after some mumbled civilities and we could not think what to say and some of us were not able to say it even if we could. Captain Stewart seemed nonplussed; the Bankwallah’s sister knew no word of Hindustani, except perhaps how to ask for hot water, I, very little and that not of a sort to suit Maharajahs. The Bankwallah made some effort but His Highness’ replies were hardly audible; I thought I ought to do something to try to relieve the strain, so, having carefully spread it out in my mind, I lifted up my voice and said, ‘Ap ka misag kaisa hai, Maharajah Sahib? [How is your health, Sir Maharajah?] There was a kind of murmur and silence fell again. By this time I was flattened out by embarrassment and the pathos of the sad little figure on the charpoy and the loneliness and gloom of it all. We felt at our wits’ end and I think the feeling ran round us like hysteria. Then, without the smallest warning the youthful heir, who had not uttered, prompted I suppose by some satellite behind the Maharajah, raised a piercingly shrill voice and screamed (there is no other word for it) in one long, sustained breath ‘Howdoyoudomadam!’ It was as sudden as the stab of an assassin’s knife and almost as fatal, and we could not imagine what this cryptic cry could mean till it dawned on us that it was a belated acknowledgement of my words to the lad’s uncle.
After this we took our leave and, as we left, His Highness gave me and Miss K. each a couple of silver bangles and we were wreathed with jasmine and tinsel garlands. We were all rather shattered. We knew that the old man liked visits and took them as a compliment and we had meant to please him, and felt at the same time that such a possee of fools as we must have seemed could please nobody. It was Captain Stewart’s fault for he knew the language well and was the responsible person among us. The Maharajah drives every day in the same direction along the road past the guest home but at a certain point he turns back because a few paces further on would bring him in sight of the cenotaphs of his forebears and he considers that unlucky.
Violet Jacob
1902
Four days ago a group of us went off sledding to Kiritein. Besides Herma, Hauer and Hannak were in my sledge. Return journey pretty. Fir branches against the bright night sky; singing in the telegraph wires. Because of the cold, drank a lot of schnapps and Herma got tired. Hauer recited all kinds of verse fragments. Herma and I were princess and prince. She lay in my arms with her eyes shut like a little child. A kiss – fleeting – secret – positively unnerving.
Robert Musil
1934
Am I wise to embrace a parliamentary career – can I face the continued strain? James Willoughby told me that he nearly gave up his parliamentary campaign in November, as he just could not stand the ordeal of speaking: when he confessed this to his agent, the man replied, ‘Don’t let not speaking well dishearten you: I have known candidates who could not even read.’
‘Chips’ Channon
1967
A party to meet our new Leader, Jeremy Thorpe. A huge crowd came and drank much champagne. Paul Hislop took Yehudi Menuhin for a Liberal candidate; David Frost kissed Violet Bonham Carter; Lord Gardiner, who looks so impressive when dressed in his Lord Chancellor’s robes, came; but neither George Brown nor the Prime Minister did – just as well, I thought. Jeremy won’t be as good as Jo [Grimond], whose wonderful looks, voice, and integrity, were a tremendous asset to the Party, especially on television. Jeremy is a bit of an actor; in fact, he would have made a marvellous actor. His imitations of Harold Macmillan, Harold Wilson, even Jo, are terrifyingly funny; and best of all is that of Ted Heath saying, ‘Out of the House’. Admittedly Ted has behaved rudely to Jeremy, walking ‘out of the House’ when Jeremy took his place there as Liberal Leader.
Cynthia Gladwyn
21 February
1826
Corrected the proofs of Malachi this morning – it may fall dead and there will be a squib lost; it may chance to light on some ingredients of national feeling and set folk’s beards in a blaze and so much the better if it does – I mean better for Scotland – not a whit for me—
Attended the hearing in P. House till near four o’clock so I shall do little to-night for I am tired and sleepy. One person talking for a long time, whether in pulpit or at the bar or anywhere else, unless the interest be great and the eloquence of the highest character, always sets me to sleep. I impudently lean my head on my hand in the Court and take my nap without shame – The Lords may keep awake and mind their own affairs – Quae supra nos nihil ad nos [‘What is above us is nothing to do with us’]. These Clerks’ stools are certainly as easy seats as are in Scotland, those of the Barons of Exchequer always excepted.
Sir Walter Scott
1885
I saw a most extraordinary tricycle pass today. A bath chair made of wicker work in which reclined a smart lady, and behind, where one should push, a gentleman treadling, puffing and blowing and looking very sheepish. I wonder any one will make such an exhibition of themselves. How the bicycles swarm now, and yet a few years since, every one turned round to stare at a velocipede!
Beatrix Potter
1902
Went to the variety theater with Jacques and Hannak. Jacques – what a character – no one could beat him. One of the chanteuses wasn’t bad-looking. Underwear all in grey. After the performance, however, we decided against inviting anybody. Flirted a little with the girl with grey underclothes who had her mother with her. If she had come to our table I’d certainly have behaved decently toward her. Because of that. While I was deep in conversation with Hannak, Jacques beckoned to her and went outside. In the garden he had his way with her – genius!
Robert Musil
1904 [Paris]
This afternoon, Lamoreax concert, to hear, chiefly, Richard Strauss’s Life of a Hero. It came at the end of an exhausting programme, but I was much impressed by its beauty. I heard it under difficulties, for the audience grew restive, talked and protested. One old man insisted on going out. There is a rule about not entering or leaving during a piece, but this old man cried so loud and shook the doors so that the pompiers were obliged to let him through. Applause and hisses at the end, from a full audience. One more exhibition of the bêtise of an audience when confronted by something fresh, extravagant and powerful. It would be absurd to condemn this or any other particular audience, for all audiences are alike. The sarcastic and bitter opposition must be taken as a tribute to the power of the art. Was not Tannhäuser simply laughed off the
