‘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
He was less happy with news about Maria that he heard when dining with an officer newly arrived from Bristol: ‘he is a relation of the Brook Smiths and knows Abram a little, he said he had heard young Brooks was to be married and was very anxious to know who the lady was to be’.33 Rawlinson knew it was Maria: ‘I wish I could hear something from you – it really does seem very odd to be hearing news of my own family from strangers. He and young Brown are the only people whom I have heard speak of young Brooke and they both call him a most insufferable dandy. I myself really think that you are a great deal too good for him.’34He continued bitterly: ‘I have now given up all hopes of hearing from you at all, I have been waiting nearly 5 months now in expectation of a letter. I had fondly hoped I had friends in England to whom I was so dear as they are and ever will be to me – what can be the reason for your not writing yourself? I cannot understand it at all – it is now nearly 9 months since I left England and I have not heard a syllable from any of you – what changes and revolutions may have happened since that time! I rather expect you and Georgiana are both married. I feel a presentiment that you will be sooner or later Mrs B Smith.’35 His presentiment was right, although Maria did not marry Brooke Smith for another four years.
At the beginning of May, Rawlinson sat the Hindustani examination again and wrote excitedly in his journal: ‘I have just passed an Examination in Hindoostanee and am reported qualified to act as Interpreter in that language.’36 In Bombay he had also developed a particular passion for reading about history and was buying increasing numbers of books. ‘I seldom went to bed,’ he commented, ‘without being conscious that I had gained some information in the course of the day of which I had been ignorant when I arose – there is something extremely gratifying in being conscious of continual progression in knowledge.’37 His thirst for learning led him into debt: ‘The Borkas are a class of men who go about selling mostly books, and of them I bought most of mine, especially oriental works. The only time I ever got into trouble for debt was with one of these Borkas, a pock marked brute with big turban. I had a row with him and refused to pay him, and he had me arrested. I was on the point of starting up the country to Ahmedabad and Guzerat, and I owed him 75 Rupees – but with expenses the sum amounted to double and then other claims came in upon me.’38 He was loaned £50 to help settle his debts, and towards the end of his life noted that apart from a further £50 borrowed from his father, he never owed money again.
On 1 June 1828, Rawlinson travelled over 300 miles north to join his new regiment, the 1st Grenadier Native Infantry, at Ahmedabad, the capital city of Gujarat that had been founded in the fifteenth century. Here he remained desperately unhappy that he had heard nothing from his family, noting sadly in his journal on 6 July: ‘On this day twelvemonth I bade adieu to the fair, the lovely shores of Albion. I have since never passed a day, I might almost say an hour, without thinking of my early friends, of sisters who in days of yore protested that they loved me – but mark their conduct – they have let me languish on a foreign shore, unnoticed and uncheered by one single line or token of recollection for a long lonely year. They have forgotten me and I will forget them … I am resolved. I will forget you all, until I again believe you worthy of my regard. I am wretched, I am miserable, but I swear – never to think on you again … henceforward my thoughts shall be of myself, my mind shall rest upon the future. I have set the stamp of everlasting misery on my brow – but I swear, I swear, I swear would that I would die.’39
Rather than admit he was miserable, Rawlinson resorted to pleasure and neglected his studies, about which he was later ashamed: ‘my days were spent in gambling, my nights in drinking – the billiard table and the Mess room were my only supports.’40 It was not until 21 October that he received ‘a very nice long letter from Abram’,41 but still nothing from his sisters. Three days later came the long-awaited news from Maria, and with great relief Rawlinson wrote: ‘now indeed that I have received your journal I feel a pleasure in sitting down in the evening and recording my adventures (such as they are)’.42 What he did put in his journal was the routine of his life at Ahmedabad: ‘Saturday [25 October]. The days all pass much in the same manner. Parade at sunrise, they last until 7 – breakfast at 8 – study more or less till 11 – write, play billiards, go out visiting, idle or sleep until ½ past 2, dress for dinner at 3 – pool or billiards afterward, then out riding until dark, and in the evening sometimes cards, but generally we retire quietly to our respective domiciles and pass the evening as best we may, not but that it is far from unusual to have a bit of supper swilled down with a pint or two … and sometimes too we go so far as to indulge in a bit of a spree in the bazaar afterwards – this you must allow is a most monstrous course of life even when compared with yours at Chadlington – I am really quite sick of it.’43
From now on he was more relaxed and less than a week later he fell in love with a young widow, Mrs Doherty: ‘I mustered courage to go up and have a chat – she was rather entertaining, and I of course was