Miss Eden's Letters Part 36

PINJORE, _November 2, 1839_.

MY DEAREST ROBERT, Here we are again fairly in the plains, and to be sure the plains are not the hills--an axiom the profound wisdom of which you cannot appreciate, unless you had been yesterday luncheoning with us at the Fir Tree Bungalow, with the snow in sight, the cool air rushing about, and everything as it ought to be in October, the cones tumbling off the fir trees, and the fern red and autumnal, and then you should have been snapped up by your _Jhanpannies_ and run away with down-hill, till in two hours you found yourself at Barr, the thermometer at 90 in the tents, a man pulling the punkah for a little artificial air, and nothing but dust and camels to be seen for miles round.

We came on eight miles to this place this morning, and stay two days to allow time for our goods to arrive; but it is almost hotter than Barr.

Poor dear Simla! I had a great mind to cry when I saw the last glimpse of it yesterday; but still I look upon this march as one step towards home.

The army is on its way back from Cabul, but as Dost Mahomed is supposed to be not far from the frontier, a larger force remains behind than was at first intended. However, nothing can be known till the spring, for the boundary between here and Cabul is impa.s.sable from snow, even for a messenger during the winter. However well the expedition has succeeded with reference to Russia and Persia, and to the safety of this country from foreign enemies, I really think it is more important in the effect it has had in India itself. Natives are totally unlike anything we know at home; and they have had for some years an idea that their fate, or what they call the good-luck of England, was to change, and the Nepalese have been fomenting this notion with great care, so that there were many petty states quite ready for an outbreak.

Every post now brings letters from Residents all over India, saying that the success in Afghanistan has not only astounded the natives, but given them faith again in English luck in general, and in their Lord Sahib in particular. The further the news spreads, the more effect it seems to make. There has been one very odd proof at Kurnaul in the Madras Presidency of the _thinness_ of the crust over the volcano on which we all sit in this country. The only wonder is it does not explode oftener.

The Nawab of Kurnaul has been often accused of disaffection, and lately of having concealed stores. He was uncommonly angry, as people are when they are accused of anything true or false, and desired three commissioners should be sent to examine his jaghir. They found nothing and were coming away, but some of the military authorities got information from the Nawab's own people, summoned more forces, and asked for another search. He said they were quite welcome to go into his fort, and his prime Minister should go with them. Nothing was visible; but his workmen betrayed him. They pointed out dead walls which were covered up, concealed pits that were opened, etc., and everywhere arms were discovered. More guns than belong to the whole army of [illegible]; rooms full of double-barrelled guns, and bags of shot attached to each; and sh.e.l.ls, which the natives were supposed not to know how to make. His Zenana was turned into a Foundry, etc. There never was a thing done more handsomely. As he has an income of only 100,000 a year, of course he must be in league with richer and greater potentates, and his own 1500 followers could not have made much use of all this artillery. He made a little fight for it, but he is in prison and his territories are seized by the Company--one of the cases in which Lord Brougham would probably like to talk about native wrong and British encroachments. George says the Directors occasionally write a fine sentence about not attending exclusively to British interests, just as if the British were here for any other purpose, or as if everybody's interest were not to keep the country at peace.

Lord Elphinstone[478] has done this Kurnaul business very sensibly and well.

SHAH-I-BAD, _November 8, 1839_.

I have kept this open in hopes of the overland post. It won't come. We are progressing slowly and painfully. George and I think we have been a year in camp; but other people say only a week. The heat is quite dreadful, and I think I feel my brain simmering up in small bubbles, just as water does before it begins to boil. We are in Mr. Clerk's[479]

district, and he has let Henry Vansittart come with the camp, which delights him, and he learns a little bit of camp business, regulates the price of flour at the bazaar, talks big about the roads, and by way of showing how good they are, overturned his buggy and himself last night.

But he is pleasanter on his own ground than at Simla. My best love to Mary. Ever yours most aff.

E. E.

_Miss Eden to Lady Theresa Lister._

CAMP UMBALLA, _November 5, 1839_.

MY DEAREST THERESA, I have not heard from you for a long time, but one of the last overland letters mentioned that you had been ill, so it is tempting to write and hope that you are well again.

The wife of the Private Secretary[480] came with me from Simla, because in compliment to my weaker health I made shorter marches to the foot of the hills with the last fat baby, Auckland Colvin[481] refusing to sit anywhere but in her lap, and the baby before that refusing to go to sleep unless she slept in the same tent with him, in which there were the three children, two Portuguese Ayahs, and the children's favourite bearers. No light, because the candles had been sent on by mistake to the next ground; no carpets, because ditto; so that the servants kicked up a dust even in their sleep. Several Pariah dogs were playfully avoiding the Jackals, and about thirty bearers sleeping or smoking on the kynants, or the s.p.a.ce between the lining and the outside of the tent. "_That I saw_," as Sydney Smith used to say in his charity sermons when he was stating a particular case of distress which he not only never had seen, but never heard of.

This was in our encampment in the hills, when the climate was still delicious. Now the thermometer stands at 90 in the tents, and these unfortunate ladies begin to march at four in the evening. I do not know that the horn signifies, as I defy anybody to sleep in camp more than two hours, and it is being uncommonly acute to s.n.a.t.c.h at that the first week, till the sentries have learnt to stop the tent-pitchers and camel-drivers from knocking down and packing up all night at unlawful hours. I got Captain Codrington, our Quarter-master, to stay behind last night instead of going on to pitch the advanced camp, that he might see and hear what a quant.i.ty of illicit pitching and packing went on, and the result was that he imprisoned 160 tent-pitchers, 56 camels, and removed out of hearing the neighing horses of half the clerks in the public offices, and we all went to sleep for at least half-an-hour, which was very grand. Moreover, it is a rule that nothing should leave the ground till the Governor-General's carriage goes by, and a gun is fired to announce that highly important event; so to-day this rule was enforced, and in a country of hot dust, which this is, a very good rule it is. But it was funny to see the crowds of old men and beasts the advance guard had stopped, camels and elephants innumerable, our own band, several hundreds of gra.s.s-cutters' ponies laden with gra.s.s for sale, palanquins full of small half-caste babies, everybody's pet dog with their bearers, sofas and arm-chairs. My own tame pheasants in their wooden house I saw in the _melee_.

Marching disagrees so much with me, that by the doctor's advice, and George's desire, I leave the camp at Agra, and go straight down to Calcutta, where I hope to be the middle of February. George does not expect to be there before the 1st of April, but I rather hope he will, driven by the heat, cut off some of his tour as the time draws nearer.

We have been joined on the march by several officers returning from Cabul, and very flourishing they look, and they cannot make out that their sufferings have been what the papers tried to make out. Captain Dawkins, of Lord Auckland's Bodyguard, who has been through the campaign with a regiment to which he lawfully belongs, has come back looking fatter than most Falstaffs, and he brought back three of the sheep which he left with us at Ferozepore last year, so that danger of starving was not great.

G.o.d bless you, dearest Theresa. This is a very stupid letter, but then it is better than none, which is what I have had from you. And you cannot imagine how hot it is. Your most affectionate

E. EDEN.

CHAPTER XII

1840-1842

_Miss Eden to Mr. C. Greville._

BARRACKPORE, _March 13, 1840_.

MY DEAR MR. GREVILLE, I give it up; I succ.u.mb; I see clearly I was all wrong; generally am, quite mistaken, very sorry, very stupid, etc. But you and every friend I have will do me the justice to say that since the first year we pa.s.sed here I have mentioned openly that I was regularly twaddling, that I hardly remembered a proper name, and _never_ knew what was meant for jest or earnest. I have written it home twenty times, and it is not a complaint peculiar to me, but common to everybody who has pa.s.sed a hot season or two in India. Their brains are fairly stewed down into a harmless jelly; and it is a merciful dispensation that, as they have not bodily strength to laugh at a joke, they have not wit left to understand one. I still think that your irony was too fine even for England--I mean, I might have been puzzled there; here, of course, I took it all _au pied de la lettre_. I should not have minded it so much, if just at the moment when George had hazarded himself in a line that must have ended in success or in impeachment, he had not been turned upon by almost all the Indian authorities, and every paper without exception. I did not care for their opinions, wretched little buzzings of Indian mosquitoes, but when an imposing English hornet came down upon me with the same small Toryisms, as I thought, I could not stand it.

However, I see it all clearly now, so let us make it up. "Hostess, I forgive thee: look to thy servants. Wash thy face. Come, thou must not be in this humour with me."

I rather expect the next overland may bring out a copy of William's book; it is just the sort of thing which will make a great sensation here. Everybody makes a point of fainting away if their names are mentioned in the public prints; they have simple hysterics if they are merely mentioned in a list of pa.s.sengers by a steamer, etc.; but if their names are coupled with a comment on their conduct or promotion, they fall into a dream. Therefore a book upon a subject that may be connected with politics, by a Military Secretary to the Governor-General, will be too much for their nerves. I depend upon your Preface for annihilating them. We are really looking to it with great anxiety, and considerable prospect of amus.e.m.e.nt. The papers will wrangle for a month if you have made any mistake as to the various members of the Singh family, of which they know nothing themselves. Then _the_ Prinsep,[482] who wrote a book about Runjeet, which you have probably made use of, is now a Member of Council, the greatest bore Providence ever created, and so contradictory that he will not let anybody agree or differ with him. If you have made any use of his book, I mean solemnly to a.s.sert that I _know_ from the best authority you have never heard of it or him, that it was a great pity you had not, etc.

Your friendship with Mary [Drummond] is certainly rather funny, but once begun, I think it will go on progressing. Please to let me know if you see the slightest inkling of a flirtation for either of the girls. They are the greatest dears I know, and though I had rather they should not marry till next year, that I may be by to approve, still I should like to hear of it too.

We came up here this week to see if it were cooler than Calcutta (vain idea!), and to receive the visits of the station, which, as there are eight regiments at Barrackpore, were numerous and dull. We had two hours of fat generals and yellow brigadiers clanking in and out of the room yesterday; but one visit was rather amusing. The lady was like Caroline Elliot in her young days; married to come out here; landed a month ago; is in perfect horror at India; and evidently the poor husband has lost any charm he ever might have had by his guilt in inveigling her out here. I asked if she had got into her own house yet. "I have not seen a house at Barrackpore. Tweddell has taken a barn for me, but I am not in my own barn yet." "Have you found a good Ayah? She would help you." "I have got some black things Tweddell calls servants. I do not understand a word they say." She said she went to bed immediately after dinner, and I asked if she dined late. "How can I tell? There is no difference in the hours. Always shut up in a prison to be stung by mosquitoes. And then Tweddell told me I should be a little Eastern Queen. Oh, if I could go back this last year." She was dressed up to the last pitch of the last number of the _Journal de Modes_, which, poor girl, will not be of much use at Barrackpore, where the officers are too poor even to dine with each other; and I own, I think Tweddell has a great deal to answer for, and _is_ answering for his sins in a wearisome life. But to the by-standers who have not seen a fresh English girl nor a hearty English aversion for some years, she was an amusing incident.

Did you know much of Lord Jocelyn[483] at home? He has seen his Agra and Delhi since he left us, is now doing a bit of tiger-shooting, and then is coming down as fast as he can to join this Chinese expedition.

His regiment does not go, but George has got Captain Bethune to take him as a guest. I think I should like to go marauding to Canton. We found at Calcutta a box of bronze curiosities, etc., that we had ordered before this little painful misunderstanding with Lin, etc., and they give a great idea of what might be picked up by an experienced plunderer. Yours ever,

E. EDEN.

_Miss Eden to Mr. C. Greville._

BARRACKPORE, _Sunday, April 19, 1840_.

MY DEAR MR. GREVILLE, The March overland is just come in, and they say that if we send an express to Calcutta, to overtake the _other_ express which was going off with George's despatches this afternoon, everything will come straight at Bombay. In my own mind I see nothing but a long train of innocent Bengalese running after each other, each with a letter in his hand, the thermometer at 150, and the head man of the train waving the small quant.i.ty of muslin he deigns to wear to a distant puff of smoke in the Bay of Bengal.

However, as our friendship has had such a frightful _secousse_ and wants steadying, I pay you every possible little attention, so I write this hurried line to say that the few letters which have yet arrived, and two stray papers, all speak in the highest tones of The Book, and of its success, and how well it is got up, and we are longing for a copy of it, and George is politically at ease from its being spoken of as a _personal_ narrative, and altogether it seems like an amusing incident.

William is full of grat.i.tude for all the trouble you have taken about it.

We have subsided from the interests of Afghan politics into the daily difficulties of keeping ourselves from being baked alive. I may say we have _risen_ to this higher pursuit, for it is much the more important of the two, and of much more difficult achievement. China promises to be amusing; they are arming themselves and fitting up little innocent American ships, and collecting war junks; and my own belief is that they are so conceited and so astucious that they will contrive some odd way of blowing up all our 74's with blue and red fireworks, take all our sailors and soldiers prisoners, and teach them to cut out ivory hollow b.a.l.l.s.

Lord Jocelyn is staying with us, but will sail in about ten days in the _Conway_. He goes merely as a volunteer with representatives of the Dragoons, and George has arranged that he is to be pa.s.sed into any ship that is likely to see most service. He has great merit in the ardour with which he looks about for information and for service, and I hope the Chinese will not take him prisoner.

So the dear little Queen is now Mrs. A. C. I hope she will be happy; and they may say what they like of her, but she certainly contrives to conduct herself wonderfully, through a great many trying ceremonies,--never awkward, and yet just shy enough, and I like her so for being so affectionate to Aunt Adelaide.

Pray tell Mrs. Drummond I have had her letter and Theresa's journal, much to my heart's content, and I would have written her another line, but I am horrified at the price of letters. Not but what I guessed my journal would cost a great deal too much--but 2. 8. 0! I am horrified in the English sense. Here that would be dog cheap--24 rupees. I never speak to anybody for less.

The long hand of my watch caught in the other, and the watchmaker charged 20 rupees for bending it up a hair's breadth. But still, 2. 8.

0 for a letter! I flatter myself your office pays for this. Good-bye.

Ever yours,

E. EDEN.

_Miss E. Eden to Mr. C. Greville._

CALCUTTA, _July 6, 1840_.

_My dear Mr. Greville_, At last a copy of _The Court and Camp_ has reached Calcutta, and was picked up by an alert Aide-de-Camp, who was in the shop when it arrived. It is immensely well got up, and altogether, I think, a pretty little book, and more of a book than I expected. It is a pity more copies did not come by one ship, for there are quant.i.ties bespoken. But in the meanwhile everybody is borrowing this, and they all delight in the introductory chapter, because, of course, not one of them has the least idea of the _history_ of the Sikhs as connected with India, nor of India as connected with anything else, so they are all delighted at learning it so cheaply, and they look upon you as a prodigy of Eastern learning. There are one or two misprints in the book, which do very well for England, but is the sort of thing they will take up here, where their intellects are below mistake par, but just up to a misprint; and I should imagine that the Agra Akbar will wonder at the ignorance of the aristocracy who can call a thermantidote a phermantidote, and that the _Delhi Gazette_, which is courtly, will say it ought to be phermantidote, and that they could give the Greek derivation, only they have no Greek type.

I think you ought to feel a sort of paternal interest in the Sikh dynasty, and would like to know that Kharak Singh[484] still retains the name of King, and Mr. Clerk (the Governor-General's agent) says that Noormahal's attentions to his father in public increase in proportion as he deprives him of all power. He says Noormahal all through the Durbar is occupied in wiping the dust from Kharak's band, when not a particle has settled, or with a Chowry in driving away flies from his father's hand, which they never approach, and that Kharak, though a fool, is wise enough not to like these demonstrations of tenderness.