Letters from India Volume II/To a Friend 5

by Emily Eden

TO A FRIEND.

Barrackpore, Sunday, May 10, 1840.

George and I came up on Thursday. We have heard to-day that the ‘Conway.’ has got to sea and the wind fair, so now they may be at Singapore in about a fortnight.

I dare say it may not be the fault of Barrackpore, but all our nice cool weather is gone, and it is hardly possible to breathe, and we had our morning visitors for two hours and a half on Friday. I cannot think how we ever lived through two days of morning visits—one here and one at Calcutta—formerly. I thought we must have died as one set of officers came in after another, all looking exactly like each other and streaming with the heat, being uniformed up to their chins. Fanny fairly gave it up; I sat through three more sets, and then, if luncheon had not come, I think I should have died, and should merely have been recognised as a large tired spot of grease on the sofa.

Little Frank H—— is a very nice child; talks English to begin with, which is unusual, and he is manly and amusing. He always made point in camp of taking off his hat to nobody but the Governor-General. Fanny and I used to try to make him bow to us, but he always sat bold upright on his elephant and gave us a nod; and if Mrs. H—— told him to take off his hat, he said he had a rule about it, and therefore he could not. George gave him a silver cup yesterday, which delighted him, and he came over to luncheon and drank George’s health of his own accord in such a funny, sedate way. I wanted to see if he had ‘made a rule’ about that, so I said, ‘Frank, your health.’ ‘You have no wine in your glass,’ he said demurely. I took some wine and said again, ‘Frank, your health.’ He waited quietly till George took up a glass, and then made one of his grandest bows and said, ‘Lord Auckland’s health,’ without looking at me.

I drove yesterday to Mrs. Wilson’s school, about six miles off, and went quite by myself, that I might have a good talk with her, which seemed to strike her as an odd, independent measure. Don’t you drive about alone quite safely? My two little girls looked so nice and happy, and ran out from the school instantly, and never left their hold of my gown all the time I was there, and did so want to come away with me, which is a proof native children are not so indifferent as people say. They have begun their Christian education so far as kneeling down with all the rest of the school, when Mrs. Wilson said the prayer before the school dispersed, and putting their little fat hands up. I am afraid my jemadar’s Mussulman’s feelings must have been dreadfully outraged to see them, and also, as far as I could make out, the Hindustani prayer was all for the conversion of the ‘wretched Mussulmans and Hindus;’ at least the English one was. Mrs. Wilson is always my idea of as perfect a character as there can be in this world, and so regularly merry with it. She lives in this jungle without any society but these 150 little black orphans. She has married off thirty of them at the usual early age of this country to native Christians, who have built little huts round her and act as gardeners or labourers; and she is now building a church for her little colony, trusting entirely to Providence for funds for herself, her school, and church, &c., and she. always finds that she has just enough at the end of the year for all the good she does. The children are all so fond of her, and she fetches out a little black tadpole and says, ‘This is a dear little child; she came to me quite providentially—found near the river.’ ‘These little darlings survived the inundation at Saugur,’ and soon. They are all dressed alike, in a long white muslin scarf with a red border, which is first wound round them, so as to make a sort of petticoat, and then the end is brought over the head like a veil. For a scanty drapery I always think a ‘sarce’ the most becoming dress possible. The girls work beautifully, and she laughed till the tears ran down her cheeks because Jehurun and Ameerun went and fetched a beautiful pair of slippers worked by one of the great girls and, without saying a word to anyone, held them up and asked me to give them in their name to the Lord Sahib. Then Jehurun came lugging in an immense footstool, and, when Mrs. Wilson asked her what for, she said the Lady Sahib always put her feet on a morah. I am so glad to have seen the little things so happy.

Calcutta, Monday, 11th.

I am ashamed to say I missed church yesterday, but the others who went came back nearly dead with the heat, and it is obvious it does not answer going out even in a carriage closely shut up in the daytime. I got a bad headache by setting off to Mr. Wilson’s before the sun was down. I have lost all my esteem for the sun; he is such an old, tyrannical bore and very parading in his habits.

Wednesday, 13th.

All ——’s goods were sold to-day, and it has been a most wonderful sale. All Calcutta there, though in general gentlemen think it wrong to attend sales and mix with the sircars who buy; but it was a fashion to go and see these things. We sent Giles and Mars at different times, and heard of daggers that cost twelve shillings going for seven pounds, and little agates that cost six shillings fetching two pounds, and the arms, which were really curious, went at ridiculous prices. I wish some very rich person in England had bought the arms in a lump. I suppose such a beautiful collection never will be made again. He got them through Runjeet Singh and Colonel Skinner and great natives who would let their workmen work for him; and then he poked out some antiquities in the Punjâb. Most of them were in worked silver, and some inlaid with stones, and such beautiful chain-armour and battle-axes.

Thursday, 14th.

I find I bought more at ——’s sale than thought I had. He had a silver bed-frame with little posts beautifully worked, and I told Captain —— I would give the weight in rupees for this, not thinking it possible the workmanship would go for nothing, as these silver beds are great favourites with natives; but it did, and so I have got the four silver posts to turn into legs of a table which is to hold all my pretty silver things. The table itself, I think, should be Japan, and I hope it may be picked up in the China Bazaar. A horrid idea crosses my mind sometimes—that on a ground-floor at Knightsbridge, with the footman sleeping over the laundry, all these silver treasures will be stolen, which will be very distressing. Here, if I only go to George’s room, the sentry in the passage takes the key of my door, and one of the four khalapees, who are answerable for my room, sits in it till I come back again, and sleeps at the door at night.

Friday 15th.

After some very hot days we had such a storm to-night. I had just got home after taking Mrs. —— an airing; but the carriage which took her on was almost filled with water. There is always a dreadful hot lull before these storms; the sky becomes literally as black as ink, and everybody scurries home as fast as the horses can go. Then there comes one blast of cold air—something perfectly delicious—and then the rain and thunder set to work in a manner that would astonish anybody in England. Some of the claps of thunder to-night were just as if they were firing cannon very sharply into the drawing-room.

Sunday, 17th.

I trust this China business will now be soon settled, and that everything will be in train for a peace before December, and just before we step into our ship in February we shall kiss and make friends with them. For my own individual part I shall merely kiss old Aumon, the Chinese shoemaker, who glides about Government House with his eyes half-a-mile apart, his long pigtail touching the ground, and fanning himself with a great Japan fan. And in the worst of times he has stuck to us. When opium was seized, Aumon still made shoes that fitted. The troops embarked; his white satin slippers remained at two rupees the pair. The ‘Queen’ steamer went with the last directions to Admiral —— yesterday; and who knows that Mrs. Aumon is not living near the coast? Still Aumon fanned himself and said, ‘This good satin; this right foot, this left.’

Wednesday, 20th.

I am obliged to slur over a great many days, as the letters go by the Persian Gulf, and the postmaster advertises that they must be short and light. George had such a beautiful supply of curiosities yesterday from Cutch, which he ordered a year ago—embossed gold and silver bottles, and an inkstand and some trays, and then some models of cannon in agate and gold. I have never seen anything like them.

Friday, 22nd.

There is a German missionary come out here, and he has a poor little wife really shockingly deformed, and she limps about with a little crutch; but she sings like a perfect angel, and, as it is a pity to sacrifice the pleasure of hearing her to all the foolish rules about visitors, I got Mr. —— to bring them here on Tuesday. Foreigners are always admissable, and we asked them to dinner yesterday, and a few people to come in the evening and hear them. In my life I never heard such singing as the dear little woman’s; her voice quite filled the great hall, and how anything so fresh and round comes out of that poor little crooked body I cannot guess. She was very good-natured about it, and sat leaning on her little crutch, singing without accompaniment the wildest and most touching German and Swiss songs. It was really pleasant, but I cannot divine how I can ever hear enough of her.

Monday 25th.

We are to have our great Queen’s ball this evening, and everything looks very well prepared; at least all the marble halls are full of supper tables, and I see the ball-rooms upstairs are painted all over Queen’s arms, and Company’s arms, and his Lordship’s arms; and Giles is rushing all over them with about two hundred coolies, carrying sofas and ottomans, and I dare say when those black individuals withdraw the effect will be excellent. At present, from the glimpse I caught coming up from luncheon of all these undressed artificers, the effect was rather savage than imposing. I am going to introduce singing at supper, which will be a novelty; the healths always are such flat businesses. There will be ‘God Save the Queen’ by all the professional singers, and then we are to have Prince Albert separately. The Rajah of Burdwan has come down to Calcutta on purpose for this ball.

Wednesday, 27th.

There never was so successful a ball. Dancing, supper, healths, songs, everything went off well; there was scarcely an excuse except from two or three sick people, and Captain —— had made a good selection of Armenians, natives, and Portuguese, so that their odd dresses only added to the thing. Above 500 sat down to supper—all Europeans, of course—and St. Cloud covered himself with glory. I am sure Ude could not have turned out better plats than he did for all these tables. The Queen’s health was received with great enthusiasm, and, though it was by far the hottest night we have had this year, they set to work after supper dancing harder than ever. In short, the whole thing gave great satisfaction, which is lucky; and, if we can but have a fine night next week for the fireworks for the wedding, the population, high and low, will have been pleased. I hear them knocking away all round the house, putting up platforms. I often think, like King Lear about the troop of horse, ‘that it were a delicate stratagem now to shoe hammers with felt.’ I know it is not Captain ——’s fault that his workmen cannot knock up benches without making a noise, but still I felt quite cross with him to-day when he came to my room to ask for these verandahs to be given up to him; and I think he could not have contemplated how very hard they would knock. Perhaps it will spite him if I take myself over to the north side of the house, so here I go.

Thursday, 28th.

Fanny went up to Barrackpore by the steamer, which went early this morning, and George and I are going by land to-night. It. has been a day of morning visits, which is unusual. After luncheon, when I generally subside into a short slumber, and, indeed, when the whole of Calcutta does the same, Captain —— came to say a clergyman wished to come upstairs and see me. Out of respect for the Church I said yes, though I was very sleepy, and, moreover, my tame squirrel was fast asleep in the tight part of my sleeve, so that I was obliged to sit with my arm akimbo all the time, which must have struck the clergyman, who was not cognisant of the squirrel, as ungraceful to say the least of it. He gave a curious account of conversions lately. He baptised 1,400 converts at Kutmagur in February, many of them Brahmins of the highest caste, and there are now 2,000 applicants for baptism in the same district, whom he will baptise in a few months if they continue firm. He attributes a great deal of this to one particular missionary, but also to education. It was quite clear that, when once the Hindus allowed their boys to be so thoroughly well instructed as they are at the Hindu College, they must see through the horrible absurdities of their own religion, and then, though a single Hindu who loses his caste can hardly withstand the persecution of his countrymen—in short, can hardly live—yet if any number change their religion, they become a refuge to each other, and make the conversion of more much easier. It is a great triumph to the Liberal party, who have supported and worked at these schools, always declaring that education was the first step, and wherever there has been an attempt to begin with conversion the Hindus have invariably withdrawn their boys. The Mussulmans are so aware of this that they never send a child to an English school, and their conversion would be at all events much more difficult. There is nothing absurd or revolting in their religion; it is only incomplete.

I am going to leave Wright here with poor Rosina, who is still very ill and cannot bear to be left by all of us.

Barrackpore, Saturday, 30th.

We had only a few morning visitors yesterday.

The giraffe has been sick, and is well again; and George’s elephant has suddenly dropped down dead, which is distressing, inasmuch as there is not such another smooth one in India. The weight of his fall brought his house down with him, which, I think, is rather a fine elephant end.

Monday, June 1.

We came back from Barrackpore last night, and it was such a hot night.

Poor Rosina had nearly died on Saturday night, and probably would have done so if Mrs. Colin had not gone to her. She is better now, but still very ill.

Calcutta, Thursday, 4th

There! our fireworks are over; and, just as all the natives prophesied, George’s luck made Tuesday and Wednesday the only two still days we have had this season. There was a great storm on Monday, only five miles off, that would have demolished everything. As it was, nothing could be prettier or more successful. It put one in mind of the old days of the war. We marked out the whole outline of the house with lamps, and, by means of bamboos, the great dome was entirely covered with them; the four great gateways covered with coloured lights in devices, and Victorias and Alberts in all directions. They said the dome was visible for many miles, and that three miles off the house looked like a palace of gold. The fireworks are always very inferior to what we see at home. Vauxhall would die of laughing at the best Indian fireworks; the climate produces so much more smoke than fire from gunpowder. However, there was one volcano of 10,000 rockets that was magnificent, and the natives, who covered the whole plain, were delighted with it all. Captain —— says a clerk in his office gave him the best account of it—one of the old, dried, yellow clerks peculiar to the country. He came in on pretence of mending pens, and said, ‘Fine sight, sir, last night—remarkable. There were 2,000 of us clerks, black and white, on the roof of the Treasury; and, upon my word, Government House was much the finest sight I ever saw in India—such an extent of fire! But—you’ll excuse me, sir—the fireworks! I saw finer fire-works in the early part of the Marquis Wellesley’s reign; to be sure the Marquis was uncommon partial to fireworks, almost a native in that respect, and he had Sir Arthur Wellesley, and King George, and Billy Pitt, and many other respectable characters, in a blaze in the middle of the plain; but it was reserved for the Earl of Auckland to show us a fine illumination, and his Lordship has done it nobly.’ Captain —— says he evidently thought it a finer business than Cabul. It took 210 men to light the roof alone, which was almost as good as Billy Pitt in a blaze.

God bless you, dearest! Love to all.

Ever yours most affectionately,

E. E.