Wednesday, June 19, 1839.
I must tell you for the children's sake such a touching trait of my
flying squirrel. It is the most coaxing animal I ever saw, and lives in
my room without any cage, or chain, and at night I always shut him up in
a little bath-room, leaving the sitting-room and the dressing-room
between him and me. I was woke two nights ago by this little wretch
sitting on my pillow and licking my face. I thought it was a rat at
first, and did not like it; indeed I did not like it much better when I
found it was the squirrel. I called up Wright, who carried him back to
his room, where she found he had broken a pane of glass, got out into
the garden, where he had never been before, and come in through the
window of my dressing-room. I always have it open, as the nights are
very hot, and I try to expect that the air will come into the bedroom,
and that the thieves will not come further than the dressing-room.
Wright would not believe that he had really been so clever; however, she
stopped up the broken pane and shut all the doors, and a quarter of an
hour after, I heard another little scratch, and there he was again
patting my ear, so then I gave it up, wrapped him in the mosquito net,
and let him sleep there the rest of the night. But it must have been
pretty to see him hopping through the garden and finding his own way in.
We went last night to the ball given to us by the Station: it was not at
all a fatiguing evening, and it is the last for some time.
Friday, June 21.
I have been carrying on a suit in Colonel ----'s very unjust court for
an unfortunate native tailor, attached to our house, who cannot get a
small debt paid that has been due to him for a year; and these horrid
magistrates are worse, if you can conceive such a thing, than common
English magistrates--worse than that Blackheath man who interfered with
William the pedestrian, and whom we burnt in effigy on the lawn at Eden
Farm; these men spited this poor tailor, because, finding they would not
hear him, he gave a petition to G. Then the magistrates found they must
attend to him, so they made him come every day to their court, and at
the end of the day said they had not time to summon the debtor, and he
must come again. They did this four days running, which is ruin to a
native who just lives on his day's work. So I went to G. again, and he
wrote a thundering note to them, and an hour after they sent the man his
debt--but they are two extraordinary individuals. Our old khansamah said
that the chief native officers of their court had threatened him that,
if he would not give them twenty-five rupees apiece, they would summon
his wife to appear in court, which is the greatest disgrace can befal a
Mussulmaunee, and a complete loss of caste. Nobody would believe the old
man's story at first, but I sent him to Captain B., who heard his story,
found he had plenty of witnesses, and took him up to the court. Mr. ----,
the second magistrate, wrote word to Captain B. that 'the case had been
fully proved, and your old khansamah comes out with flying colours.'
This sounded very well, as it was always supposed that no servant from
the plains could get any justice against ---- and ----'s officers, and we
were rather proud of it, but I bethought myself yesterday that we had
never heard what became of the culprits, so I got G. to write and say
that as Mr. ---- had been so kind as to offer an English translation of
the proceedings, I should be very much obliged to him for it; and there
came such a paper--such a bit of real magistracy! 'The court cannot deny
that the case has been fully proved;' just as if they ought to deny it;
but as it was a delicate matter interfering with officers so immediately
connected with themselves, they did not know what punishment to
inflict, and had taken bail of the principal offender, and there he is
acting still as vakeel of the court, and extorting bribes from every
wretched native that comes for justice--very few do come here. G. was in
such a rage, and wrote a minute on their paper that they will not
forget, and is sending the whole thing to the principal court at Delhi.
It is horrible to think how this class of Europeans oppresses the
natives; the great object of the Government being to teach them reliance
on English justice, and the poor natives cannot readily understand that
they are no longer under their own despotic chiefs. They will be a long
time understanding it here.
Sunday, June 23.
I went before breakfast yesterday with Captain L. E. and Captain Z. down
to Annandale, where he had sent tents the day before. F. came in the
middle of the day, and we stayed till the cool of the evening. I wanted
to sketch the children sleeping under the little cascades of water which
fall upon their heads. All the babies of the valley are brought up in
that fashion, and some of them have great hollows at the top of their
heads. It was very hot in the valley, but it was rather a nice way of
passing the day, and we got home just as a great storm began.
Thursday, June 27.
I did not think of sending this for ages, but the Calcutta authorities
have fitted out a Chinese clipper to go to the Persian Gulf, and seem to
think the letters may be in England in three months. My Journal may be
a help to them; for if you observe, our mutual Journals go safely, so I
let them have it from pure kindness. It is the only letter I send, and
nobody seems to guess when we can write again, not for two months
certainly, so do not fidget about us. We are all well and prosperous.
Simla, Monday, July 1.
I sent off a short Journal to you on Saturday, which you will probably
never hear of, as in the dearth of Bombay steamers, the Government has
been trying a new experiment of taking up a Chinese clipper which will
probably be of little use, and they have sent her to Aden with our
letters, and have puffed their experiment so successfully that they have
actually entrapped me out of a large slice of Journal, so that portion
of my life will never be heard of again--'a blank, my lord.'
I should not care what becomes of the letters I write, if I could get
any to read. This is such a tiresome time of year for that, and I get
such yearnings for letters, and such fancies come over me. It seems an
odd thing to say to you, but I dare say you have the same thoughts with
regard to me, but I sometimes think _if_ anything should have happened
to you, what would become of me? and then the thought gets fairly into
my head, and runs into all sorts of details, till I cannot get to sleep,
and know it is very wrong, and then I ask Dr. D. for a little medicine
and I get better, but in the meanwhile it is horrid to be so far off.
However, of course you are very well, and so am I; only mind we keep so,
because we really must meet again, we shall have so much to say. We
heard of dear old Runjeet's death on Saturday. It took place on the
27th. It is rather fine, because so unusual in the East, that even to
the last moment, his slightest signs, for he had long lost his speech,
were obeyed. It is almost a pity they were, only that one is glad such a
master mind should have its dues to the last; but the despatch says,
that on the last day the Maharajah sent for all his famous jewels, his
horses with their splendid trappings, the surpêche and pearls given him
by G., and ordered them to be sent to different shrines with directions
that the Brahmins should pray for him; that Kurruck Singh (the heir) and
the sirdars who were sitting round his bed burst into loud lamentations
and said, 'What will become of us if you give everything away?' and the
Maharajah wept, but said it must be so. Then he ordered the Koh-i-noor
(the famous diamond) to be sent down to the temple of Juggernaut, but
his sirdars again represented that there was not such another diamond in
the world, and that the whole wealth of India could not repurchase it,
and he consented to let that remain. But the distribution of jewels went
on till the evening, and he is supposed, his newswriters say, to have
given away the value of two crores of rupees. It is a great pity such a
collection of precious stones, quite unequalled, should be dispersed to
these shrines, where they will never be seen again. The Rajah Dhian
Singh, the prime minister, seems at present to manage everything, and to
be in as great favour with Kurruck Singh as he was with the father; and
as he is a very superior man, with dominions of his own almost equal to
the Punjâb, things may go on quietly if he remains in favour; but young
Noor Mahal Singh, Kurruck's son, is coming back from Peshawur,
determined to make himself prime minister to his father, so there may be
a danger of a fight. G. declares that no degree of confusion (and I am
willing to make as much as possible, if it would be of any use) will
keep us here another year, so it is no use blowing up the coals amongst
the kings. Our poor fat friend Shere Singh has sent his chief adviser
here, to ask protection and advice, and he brought me a very pretty
letter from little Pertâb, and I have just been signing a Persian answer
to it, and equally pretty, I am confident. I just ran my eye over it to
be sure that Mr. C. had expressed my real sentiments, and I think it
looked very like them. Shere Singh is in a terrible fright.
Tuesday, July 2.
The accounts from Lahore describe great dismay and real grief amongst
Runjeet's subjects. Two of his ranees have declared their determination
to burn themselves with him; but as their stepson Kurruck has implored
them not to do so, it is to be hoped they will give it up, if they are
sure of kind treatment. I begin to think that the 'hundred wife system'
is better than the mere one wife rule; they are more attached and
faithful.
Wednesday, July 3.
There have been two dry days without fog or rain, so we took advantage
of them to be 'at home' last night, and the people all came and danced
very merrily for two hours, and in the middle of the party, the express
with the overland mail arrived--rather a disappointment, as it only
comes down to April 15th. I presume your letter is coming, and in the
meanwhile you were well to the 15th; but I want your view of things,
instead of having to pick them out of "Galignani". Those poor dear
ranees whom we visited and thought so beautiful and so merry, have
actually burnt themselves; but I am not going to tell you any more about
Lahore for the present, as G. gets every day from his native newswriter
such quaint and interesting accounts of all the intrigues, and events,
and lamentations there, that I will send you the papers--I am sure they
will interest you. The death of those poor women is so melancholy, they
were such gay young creatures, and they died with the most obstinate
courage.