Letters from India Volume I/To a Friend 22
Wednesday, January 18, 1837.
Fanny was not well enough to go to the ball after all; it was really a pity she missed it; it was so well done. Our whole household went in grand costume, and I was tastefully attired in a Chinese white satin, elegantly embroidered in wreaths of flowers (not the least like flowers) by my Dacca workmen; head-dress, feathers and lappets. Everybody went in new dresses, which made the ball look brilliant. We were met on the steps by twelve stewards, wearing silver medallions, two of which I begged and have sent (by Captain Fulcher, of the ‘Robert Small’) to and . Mind he gives you up that little box. The staircases were beautifully ornamented with flags belonging to half the ships in the river, and the bands played ‘God save the King,’ which, indeed, we rather expect now whenever we blow our noses or sneeze; but ‘King George’ was not allowed to walk first this evening, because it was explained to him that he was only asked to meet us, all for our honour and glory. The Town Hall is an immense building, with two rows of pillars running from one end of the room to the other, and between each pillar there was a drapery of pink crape, to which hung a large wreath of evergreens, and in that wreath there was alternately an E and an F of forget-me-nots, or roses or any sentimental flower of that kind. They had cleared away the theatre at one end of the room and replaced it by a Richard the Thirdish sort of tent, the draperies held up by trophies of our arms, wheat-sheaves in all directions, and E’s and F’s to match. It was a splendid tent, all red and white satin, and I should like the reversion of it when we go up the country. There were two arm-chairs covered with white satin for us, and the poor degraded George had his chair put a step lower; and over our chairs were our arms and motto. Whereupon I observed to Mr. Shakespear, who wanted to know what ‘Si sit prudentia’ meant, that ‘sit’ was put over my chair because I was going to sit down in it; ‘prudentia’ over Fanny’s because she stayed at home when she would have preferred coming to the ball; and ‘si’ was for George, who was sighing for a better place than he was seated in. We call that a joke at Calcutta, and it makes us laugh, though it would be rather stupid at home. I did not really sit down on my throne; I thought it would look pretending; but all the ladies, with unwonted civility, came to make their curtseys while George and I were standing there; and then the stewards carried us off to the other end of the room, where there was another large E and F, with two altars and heaps of flowers and little flames burning; pretty and allegorical, though I do not exactly know what it meant; but it looked very well. It was an immensely full ball. Supper was prepared in one room for 650, but 750 contrived to find places; and there was a dais for us with a scarlet drapery and our eternal names, and each of the stewards presided at a separate table. At the end Mr. Shakespear gave our healths, which were drunk with considerable noise, and then we all went back to the ball-room and stayed till two, which is a wonderful excess for this country and for us. The ball lasted till near four. It really was a magnificent fête, and the stewards showed the superior manners of more advanced age. At the bachelors’ ball nobody took charge of anybody, but these steady married gentlemen were trotting about, seeing that everybody had partners, and supper, and seats; and six of them were always left to take care of me, and they were quite proud of themselves for understanding a ball so much better than the young gentlemen who gave the last. However little amusing a ball per se is to us who have outlived them, yet this was really very gratifying; I mean really and truly. It is certainly pleasanter to be liked than disliked by the people one must live with. There was every lady of the society there except three, who were ill and who sent notes of excuse and their husbands, or their sons to make their apologies; and so, as all our dinners and parties have met their reward, we shall go on in the same track; and that is the end of the great ball subject.
Friday, Barrackpore.
Fanny and I and Dr. Drummond came up here yesterday, as change of air is always the thing after a bilious attack; but she is quite well again.
The weather is very nice now early in the morning, so much so that I got up at half-past six and got into a tonjaun and was carried to the menagerie, which is now quite full, and thence to the garden.
Monday, January 23.
We gave a farewell dinner at Barrackpore to old General , who commands that station, and who is going home. We had all the chief military people to meet him.
We heard a great many details of that poor Dr. ’s death. His name must have come often in my letters, as we were more acquainted with him than with most people here. George and he were in constant communication. and he went out shooting together, and latterly he has come to accompany me on the flute. He played and sang beautifully. We have always thought him very superior to most of the people here. Last Tuesday week, when we had the Helfers to sing here, he wrote me word he had such a bad headache he could not come. Dr. Drummond went to see him as a friend on Wednesday, and said he wished he kept more quiet and that his doctors were more frightened about him. The next day they did stop all visits to him, but then it had become a regular brain fever, and he died on Wednesday night. His wife is supposed to be on her way out, but, as she was in wretched health, it is to be hoped she may again have changed her mind. You cannot imagine in India how the ranks close in the very day after a death. The most intimate friends never stay at home above two days, and they see everybody again directly. It is a constant surprise to me, but I suppose there must be some good reason for it, as it is always the case. I should have thought grief might have taken just the other line, but I suppose they really could not bear it alone here; and then they never are free from the sight of human beings, from the practice of servants being always at hand. However, so it always is. Dr. had more warm friends than anybody, but there was not one who stayed away from the races after his death.
We came down to Calcutta in the evening. Such a lovely moon, but, horrible to relate, the weather is really growing hot again. They all say ‘it is unusual’ and ‘a curious circumstance’ and ‘unprecedented, and ‘there must be rain somewhere;’ but we know what all that means—two months of cold weather instead of four.
Yours most affectionately,
E. Eden.