Simla, Friday, Sept. 27, 1839.
It appears that our last letters will again be too late for the steamer.
G. always keeps the express till it is a day too late for the steamer.
In fact, if he _has_ a fault (I don't think he has, but _if_ he has), it
is a slight disposition to trifle with the English letters, just on the
same principle as he always used to arrive half an hour too late for
dinner at Longleat and Bowood. He never will allow for the chance of
being too late, and now, for two months running, his despatches have
been left at Bombay.
We had our fancy fair on Wednesday, which went off with great _éclat_,
and was really a very amusing day, and moreover produced 6,500 rupees,
which, for a very small society, is an immense sum. When we arrived at
the 'Auckland Gate,' which was the same as last year, we were stopped by
a gang of gipseys, who had their little tent and their donkey, and the
pot boiling on three sticks, and a boy plucking a fowl and another with
a hare, &c. X. and L. and a Captain C. were disguised as gipseys, and
the most villanous-looking set possible; and they told our fortunes, and
then came on to the fair and sang an excellent song about our poor old
Colonel ---- and a little hill fort that he has been taking; but after
the siege was over, he found no enemy in it, otherwise it was a gallant
action. X. showed me the song some days ago, and I thought it might
affront the old man if it came upon him unawares, so they showed it to
him first, and he adopted it as his own joke.
Then the selling at the stalls began, and everything was bought up very
quickly; then there was a raffle for my two pictures, and we reduced the
tickets to 3 rupees each, and would not let anybody take more than
three, and yet, with that they produced 75_l._ Rather a shame! but I
could not help it--a little single figure, which I had done in two
mornings, and promised to W. O., was put up to auction when he was away,
and fetched 15_l._, so I must do another for him. F. sent a great
collection of toys she had made in the bazaar, which produced 20_l._
Mr. C. was an excellent auctioneer for the four things that were to be
sold by auction--that small drawing of mine and three beautiful little
oil paintings, sent to me for the fair by a regular artist, a Mr.
Gwatkin, whose Christian names are Joshua Reynolds (he is a great-nephew
of Sir Joshua), so Mr. C. began with the picture of an old, bald
man:--'Will anybody allow me to say 100 rupees for this splendid
composition of the famous Sir Joshua Reynolds?--an absolute gem, a real
Joshua Reynolds. I beg your pardon; I have just distinguished the
surname of Gwatkin, but I was misled by the similarity of style. The
original Sir Joshua would not, however, have been affronted; those flesh
tints on the bald head are magnificent! Eighty rupees I think you said.
But you have not noticed the mountain in the background--an exact
representation of any one of the Alps, I may say of all the Alps, and
valuable to any of us who are not likely to see the Alps in a hurry.
Mr. ----, allow me to say 100 rupees for this beautiful delineation of a
calm old age, unconscious of decay; it is worth your notice.' Mr. ----
looks about sixty, and still tries (without the least success) to be a
young man. G. bought the picture for me. I went as far as eight guineas
for the second myself, but was outbid by Mr. A.; and the third, which
was a very inferior article, of a nun, hung on hand, so at last C.
turned to the Baboo belonging to his office, who was grinning at his
master's jokes, and said, 'I see, Baboo, you are determined to outbid
everybody for this valuable specimen of English art--Seetannauth Baboo
has bid thirty-five rupees for this remarkable portrait of a nun "in
maiden meditation, fancy free," and I have great pleasure in knock-it
down to him. Seetannauth Baboo, you are most fortunate.' The Baboo
clearly did not know why, but he is very rich, and the Hindus have a
great idea of the saving merits of charity; so he paid his money, and I
saw him all the rest of the day walking about, with his servant carrying
his little nun's picture after him.
We had provided luncheon at a large booth with the sign of the 'Marquess
of Granby.' L. E. was Old Weller, and so disguised I could not guess
him. X. was Sam Weller; R., Jingle; and Captain C., Mrs. Weller; Captain
Z. merely a waiter, with one or two other gentlemen; but they all acted
very well up to their characters, and the luncheon was very good fun,
and was kept up through three relays of company, fifty at a time; and as
we found all the food, the proceeds for the charity were very good. Then
G. gave some prizes for the Ghoorkas to shoot for, and the afternoon
ended with races; a regular racing stand, and a very tolerable course
for the hills, all the gentlemen in satin jackets and jockey caps, and a
weighing stand--in short, everything got up regularly. I never can care
about races, but this was a popular bit of the day with most of the
people, who had vague recollections of Epsom in their young days. Half
the stakes went to the charity. Altogether there is money enough to keep
up the hospital for four years, by which time another Governor-General
will be here; but I'm afraid when Dr. D. goes, it will not be the useful
establishment it has been. Everybody likes these out-of-door amusements
at this time of year, and it is a marvel to me how well X. and R. and L.
E. contrive to make all their plots and disguises go on. I suppose in a
very small society it is easier than it would be in England, and they
have all the assistance of servants to any amount, who do all they are
told, and merely think the 'Sahib Logue' are mad.
Friday, Oct. 4.
This has had a week's interruption, for I was taken on Saturday with
spasms, and then fever, and so on; and have been quite laid up.
The August overland arrived yesterday. Letters of August 12th here on
October 3rd. Quicker than ever! By-the-bye, I beg to remind you that we
left Portsmouth this day four years. There is something in that; I do
not exactly know what, but something--the waste of four good years, if
nothing else. Your letters from Newsalls, and all the letters, had a
quiet, pleasant _family way_ with them, but very few events. It is
rather shocking to see you regretting your London season so much. I am
afraid, my dear M., that after 'a youth of folly' you will be reduced to
solace yourself with 'an old age of cards.'
With the Bombay dâk came that shawl of Colonel Skinner's I told you we
were expecting, but we were so occupied with the letters, we could not
at first attend to the shawl; but now, upon investigation, we are all of
opinion there never was so handsome an article seen. The dâk was, I
suppose, overloaded, so that only one shawl is come. F. and I are in
such a horrid fright, lest the other should be lost. We have not the
nerve to draw lots for this one; it would be almost less unpleasant to
cut it in two.
One of our servants dropped down dead in the verandah three days ago. He
was talking and laughing with some of the others, squatting on the
ground in their usual fashion, and he just laid his head back and died.
He was a young man--one we always called Shylock, from his sharp, Jewish
look. There are several of his relations in the establishment, and their
screams were horrible: but twelve hours after they buried him. Yesterday
they gave a great feast to all the Mussulmauns, and when that is over,
they always seem very comfortable again.
Think of T. putting in a letter to F. yesterday, 'This happy result of
the war will of course ensure Lord A.'s _elevation to the peerage_;
there cannot be two opinions about that.'
Curious ignorance, combined with considerable vulgarity! 'Yet Nature
might have made us such as these,' as Autolycus says; though really I do
not see how she could, with any conscience, or without a great deal of
trouble. T. is anxious we should stop a few days at ---- on our way down,
that we may make acquaintance with 'my dear wife and daughter,' as he
fears it will not suit his finances to go to Calcutta at present. I
think I see the whole camp of 12,000 precious souls stopping a few days
at a station where there are three Europeans, just to make acquaintance
with Mrs. and Miss T.! But all J.'s letters are 'du Collins tout pur.'
Tuesday, Oct. 8.
The second shawl is come to hand safe. Capt. P. writes from Cashmere
that he has seen those that are in the loom there for us, and that they
will not be finished for some months, but he says he never saw anything
the least like them. He gives such a horrid account of the tyranny of
the Sikhs over the Cashmerees, and in their own jaghires, through which
he has been passing; their cruelty is dreadful. He has been through the
territories belonging to the Jumnoo family, to which Dhian Singh, the
prime minister, our friend Heera Singh, and an uncle of his, Gholâb
Singh, belong.
The number of persons without noses, or ears, are incredible, and Gholâb
Singh, who is the worst of all, actually flayed alive the other day 300
men who had offended him.
It is the practice of that family never to allow a female infant of
their race to live; they marry wives from other very high Rajpoot
families, but they will not give their daughters to inferior princes nor
let them live unmarried, so they are all put away as soon as they are
born. I wonder the wives do not get up a little rebellion of their own.
Wednesday, October 9.
Sir E. Ryan, the chief justice, has come up from Calcutta on a hurried
tour to see India, and has seen more in five weeks than we have by
lumbering about in a camp for two years; and, moreover, we are all
aghast and rather affronted at his looks. We meant him to come up with a
parboiled Calcutta appearance, instead of which he looks younger and
better than when we first saw him; he has a very good colour, and walks
everybody to death. He came straight here after his journey up the
hills, and met G. and me on the road, took one of our longest walks with
us, and never would listen to our offer of the assistance of a pony. He
is a pleasant man, a good Whig, and keeps up his English politics, and
English books, and English laugh, and enjoys seeing everything, and
wants a little cricket in the afternoon. He is staying with Mr. ----, but
as the visit is by way of being to us, they dine here most days.
Sunday, Oct. 13.
We have the deputation from Kurruck Singh up here now, and had a very
pretty durbar yesterday, to which they brought their presents. We asked
a few ladies who had never seen a durbar, to come, and put them behind
the crowd, and they thought it a beautiful sight. While the durbar was
going on, there came an express to Mr. A., saying that Noor Mahal Singh,
the heir-apparent, and Dhian Singh had gone into Kurruck's durbar and
shot at a favourite of his, Cheyt Singh, who was sitting so close to his
master that some of the shot went into Kurruck's foot; he begged them to
kill him and spare his favourite, but they finished Cheyt with their
sabres. We give the soldiers a ball to-morrow, and on Tuesday begin to
pack up. I keep thinking it is the first step towards going home to you,
dear M., but I wish you lived _more handy like_.
My journey will be shorter than the others'. I leave the camp at Agra;
as G. and the rest of the party leave the camp at Gwalior, and will not
be at Calcutta till the beginning of April. I shall be housed at the end
of February.