# Letters from India Volume II/To Blank 7

Calcutta, Monday, June 15, 1840.
My dearest ——, — I think, like Mrs. Crummles, I have made a ‘stride and a stop,’ and rather a long stop, in my journal; but we had a week of shockingly hot weather, and I find that the real Indian fashion of doing nothing but lie on the sofa and read is the only way of breaking that sort of heat. Luckily we have had a small proportion of it this year, and the rains are now fairly set in, which is a great blessing. We came back from Barrackpore last night.
Poor Rosina seems to be gradually getting worse. Dr. Goodeve has been to see her as well as Dr. Drummond, but they both agree that she can never get well, though she may linger on for a long time, but it will end at last in abscess on the liver. She was carried up to my room this morning, and, as usual, she struck me as a dear, sensible old body. She has added some English sense to her native qualifications, and she likes all English fashions, and this morning she told me she wanted Wright to write down her will for her. She has a great ​any pretty ornaments and shawls, and she said that, if Wright did not take charge of them, her relations, as soon as she was dead, would scramble for them, and that her husband would be in great distress and would not look after his rights. ‘God will want me in a few days,’ she said, ‘and He won’t want me sooner because I make all ready.’ She is so naturally good that I should like to lead her a little farther if I could; but, in the first place, the difficulty of speaking the language makes it almost impossible, and then, if the Mussulmans here thought she was tampered with, it would make such an outcry, and they would revenge it on her family.
Wednesday, 17th.
George was saying to-day what an odd country this is. He has had despatches from Nepâl, where they have been marrying the elder son, who is still quite a boy, and there was great difficulty in finding him a wife of the right caste, because the great Rajpoots all say there is something defective in the caste of the Nepâl royal family, and the poorest Rajpoot will not give his daughter to a king of an in​ferior caste. However, at last two little brides were found, and there were immense rejoicings, and our Government sent presents, and thousands of pounds were spent at the wedding. Two days after the English resident was sent for in great haste, and found all the court in the greatest tribulation, crying and tearing their hair, because they said some unlucky marks had been discovered on the bodies of the two little brides (George says he wishes they had sent a map), and the people who had negotiated the marriage were sent to prison, and the ranee, the reigning queen, was going off to the Ganges to see if she could wash away the stain to her tribe, &c. They kept the agent seven hours listening to their griefs. However, the next day a cunning old courtier, a priest, declared that, on consulting the books, he had discovered that these marks were the luckiest ever known, and that it was quite a mistake if anybody had ever said otherwise; so then the ambassadors were taken out of prison and had fine presents given to them, and all Nepâl was ordered to rejoice all over again, and the little brides will be allowed to live, I suppose; but I suspect they are very ugly, don’t you?
Friday, 19th.
Rosina has taken a wonderful rally, and, though neither Dr. Drummond nor Dr. Goodeve think she will ever get quite well, she seems to have escaped for the present that danger of abscess on the liver which they thought was established. Poor old body, I am so glad to see her out of pain again; she has been ill so long.
I had such an interesting arrival to-day of a piece of furniture, half table, half cabinet, which I ordered at Bareilly nearly a year ago, and just as one has forgotten all those old orders they are executed. However, this is a lovely article, and I am rather sorry to think that, having invented anything so new and original, it will be disseminated all over India. But it always is so. The natives never make a new pattern, and if we, or anybody who will take the trouble, teach them one, all the Europeans order one instantly. I forget whether I mentioned the progress of those armchairs Mr. —— gave us. I had one made as a present for Major —— when he went up the country, that was copied for an officer at Delhi. He got that again imitated at Loodhiana, which place ​became a great dépôt for troops when the war began; every officer wanted a chair for his march, and there is actually a great manufactory of these chairs going on at that remote place, all copied from Mr. ——’s. To return to my cabinet, it has been great fun filling it with all the odds and ends of pretty things about the room, and the effect is really beautiful. My only doubt is whether, instead of simplifying the business for Knightsbridge, which was my original idea, it will not be easier to put the house into the cabinet, instead of trying to fit the cabinet into the house. There is very little difference between the two things in point of size.
Sunday, 21st.
The weather is really delightful now; it pours hard half the day, but then the windows are all open and everything is cool, and I can sit by the window and draw without a punkah and without catching more rheumatism than is complimentary to the climate, and the evening drives are pleasant. It is very odd how good my health has become the last six months—much better than I remember it for a very long time, ​for, instead of that spectre Miss Fane told you truly I was, I am rather a fat woman than otherwise, and everybody wonders at it every time they see me.
Tuesday, 28rd.
We had an immense party to-day, for I had wanted to give them up during the rains, and so they all came to show they could not do without them.
Barrackpore, Saturday, 27th.
Fanny and I came up by water on Thursday, which was a delicious cool, grey day, and we had a steamer and thought we should be so quiet; but, as usual, the tide was all wrong, and we were four hours about it.
We have a gentleman here, a great school man, who is come to examine George’s school for prizes. It is astonishing what those boys have learnt in three years—common labourers’ sons—but the native children have a passion for school; the first class are mad about Shakespeare, which to my mind does them great credit. It would take more than three years to teach a village boy to read and discuss the Hindu theatre, and these boys have a very ​good idea of geography and mathematics, and know history much better than many of the people who go to examine them. Some of them are getting places now in European shops, and one in an office, which has made the school more popular than ever.
Calcutta, Monday, 29th.
Came back to Calcutta last night, and was woke this morning by the May letters; they said we were not to have them till the middle of next month, so it was a pleasant surprise. I have both yours—one by Falmouth and another by Marseilles of May 5—and a delicious April journal of ——’s, that made me laugh when I had rather have cried, for I think this post has nearly knocked up our hopes of going home in March; and yet I cannot bear to think so, and I cannot think it will be possible to stay; and why should we? It is all very well of —— and the Court of Directors to write their pressing letters, but some don’t know and some have forgotten what a country it is to stay in. I have always detested it, but still we have been apprenticed for five years with our own consents, and there was no use in saying more ​about it, and I was going through this year quite merrily, thinking that every day was the last of its kind and could not be done over again, and all brought me nearer home and you; but now I do not know what to think, and feel as if I should like to go to bed for the rest of the time and not try to bear it longer. I do so want to see you. However, I will not write any more about it to-day; it perturbates me and makes my hair stand up the wrong way, and I suppose if it is really necessary that George should stay, it will be equally necessary to make the best of it; but I cannot see any best, or any good, or feel anything but utter horror of the whole business.
Friday, July 8.
My jemadar has been laying out his savings and all the presents he has had in a little bit of land, which is a great event in a Mussulman’s life. It gives an income to the whole family, which, as they will not take interest, money never can; and George and I drove down some narrow lanes to see it, and certainly in the rains the lanes about Calcutta are very pretty, with the plantains, and cocoas, and wild creepers, ​and wigwamy huts; and if I were sure I never should see them again, I should like them very much; but as it is, I think of Ruth when sick for home:—
She stood all tears, amidst the alien corn.
The alien corn was bad, but still she had always been used to that; but the alien paddy, the alien maize, is more disheartening, to say nothing of the alien people, when I want so very much to be with you, with whom I could find nothing alien. I know we shall die of old age before we meet again. Both Fanny and I have lost all interest in our collections; that will be no pleasure if we cannot show them to you. I have not looked at any of mine this. week. Love to all.
Yours most affectionately,
E. E.