Belonging (11 page)

I am aboard a train on my way to take up my first I.C.S. posting as an acting district magistrate. I was originally scheduled to take up a position as deputy magistrate in the United Provinces at the end of October, but the health of the incumbent magistrate at Bhagalpur has necessitated his immediate retirement, so they need an acting magistrate until a replacement can be found for him. I am to commence immediately.

It is an alarming prospect to step straight into the shoes of a full district magistrate although, fortunately, as someone invested with second-class magisterial powers, I am only allowed to impose fines or sentences of up to six months’ rigorous imprisonment. Until Thornton’s replacement arrives, more serious cases will have to be transferred to Patna. I am also assured that his deputy magistrate, an Indian, will give me every assistance, although I should have thought he might resent the fact that a mere griffin has been promoted above him.

I don’t know whether Father was disappointed or relieved by my sudden departure. Since the night of my arrival, when we spoke so openly, he had retired into himself again. We sat together on the verandah every evening after that, and talked with apparent ease, but there was an invisible wall around him that warned me off certain subjects, just as there used to be when I was a child. And I found myself once more too timid to bring up the subject of my mother’s fate. There seemed no hurry when I thought I had two months of evenings to break him down. I remember him once saying to me, ‘Softly, softly, catchee monkey, Henry,’ but it seems that, once again,
I
am the monkey.

Dear Mina,

I have been in two minds about what to do. Part of me longs to be Home with you and Papa, especially now that Mama is gone, but last week I dreamt of her and as I woke I heard her voice, as clearly as if she was in the room, saying those words she used to say when we had done something wrong and were afraid to confess it: ‘When trouble comes, stand and face it. The further you run, the bigger it gets.’ And I know she would want me to stay and do my duty, especially as Arthur has been so patient and kind to me since he heard my news. I know that he will be a good father, for he takes so much trouble with James’s children, playing at soldiers with Freddie and allowing Sophie to ride on his back, and I know it would be wicked to deprive him of his child.

I expected him to be happy with my decision, but when I told him that I have decided to stay he said that now there is a baby to consider it is more important than ever that I should be safe and happy. I knew before we arrived in Cawnpore that he was concerned about the unrest we have been hearing about and was surprised to find everything so quiet, but James
says it is precisely that that makes him uneasy. He says the courts have practically no work because there is no crime. When I said surely that was a good thing, he said he fears it is a sign that the natives are waiting for something to happen. There have been rumours of odd things, like chuppaties being circulated as some sort of message, but no one seems to know what it means. Louisa says she notices a different atmosphere in the bazaar too – the natives exchange glances and smiles when dealing with Europeans as though they know something that we do not. But no one wants to talk about it, and anyone who raises the subject is labelled a ‘croaker’.

Some families are being sent away, but Louisa says that showing fear will only encourage the natives and she would not dream of leaving James alone. She knows India much better than I, and if she believes it safe for her children it would surely be cowardly of me to go. I cannot tell you how reassuring it is to be with her again.

The children have grown so much! Freddie, who is six now, is very like his father but is determined to be a soldier, and spends all his time playing at loading and firing ‘eighteen-pounders’. Sophie is as devoted to me as ever, and the baby is the sweetest-tempered little creature. They are such a happy family and I cannot help feeling ashamed of myself when I am with Louisa, for she is always so calm and sensible. I know that if she were in my place she would have forgiven Arthur straight away.

Please do not mention anything about the situation here to Papa as I do not wish him to worry unnecessarily. Arthur has the greatest confidence in General Wheeler’s abilities and says that, although he is only five feet tall, he has such resolution and authority that one glance from him can make the bravest man quail. James says if it were not for his unfortunate marriage he would have attained a much greater position, but
Lady Wheeler is a Eurasian and as dark-complexioned as a native. There is some scandal about her past, but they seem a devoted couple and two of their sons are officers in the 1st Native Infantry, which must only be possible because of the esteem in which their father is held.

I shall write again soon. Please give my best love to Papa.

Your loving sister, Cecily

Dear Mina,

Now that we are settled I have time to tell you about Cawnpore. It is a much larger town than Cuttack and the cantonment stretches for quite seven miles along the river, which is very wide. Now that I am no longer allowed to ride, I like to walk there in the early mornings when it is cool and peaceful. As the weather gets hotter and the water level falls, islands are becoming visible in mid-stream; they are full of monkeys and nesting birds and it is so pretty at first light, when the sky is turning pink, to watch the egrets and herons fishing in the shallows. Further along, the river is lined with temples and cremation ghats, with steps leading down from them to the river. Below, Brahmins can be seen purifying themselves by ritual immersion in the filthy water, while dhobies and women in colourful sarees do their laundry nearby. I am enclosing a watercolour I made of the scene, but you will have to imagine the sound of the temple bells and the rhythmic pounding as our clothes are hammered against the rocks. No wonder there is so much mending to do!

The town lies in the middle of a vast plain and I am told it is quite unbearable in the hot season, when the dust
is whipped up into small whirlwinds. The soldiers call them ‘Cawnpore devils’ and the natives believe them to be the ghosts of unquiet spirits. Louisa and the children go up to Simla for the hot months and Arthur insists that I am to go with them. But now is the season in Cawnpore, and people travel here from all over the north and there are so many balls, picnics and entertainments that we could be out every night if we chose. Arthur usually dislikes such things but he has been so good and accompanied us to everything and made an effort to be sociable. A lady who knew him in one of his previous postings congratulated me on the change in him.

Please give my dearest love to Papa.

Your loving Cecily

Dear Mina,

You will not believe who (or is it whom?) I met the other day. No less a personage than Mr. Azimullah Khan, whom you met at that ball three years ago in Brighton that time I had the mumps! I could not believe it could be the same man, but he confirmed he had visited Brighton and stayed at the hotel at Devil’s Dyke. Is it not an extraordinary coincidence? He is not a prince at all, as he pretended, but adviser to one, and comes from a very humble background. It is said that during the famine of ’37 he and his mother were found starving by a missionary, who took them in and gave them a home. He attended the mission school, and is so clever that he can speak not only perfect English but French and German too.

I can see how he was mistaken for a prince, for he is quite the dandy! The fact that he was a link to Home would have
inclined me to like him except for his boastful manner. He bragged of the welcome he was given by the Queen’s cousin, Lady Duff-Gordon, who introduced him to some famous writers, including Mr. Dickens and Mr. Thackeray, and said that he still corresponds with ‘several young ladies’ whom he met at Brighton. I have a feeling that despite his apparent friendliness he does not like us very much.

James says he is bitter because his mission to England failed. The prince for whom he works, one Nana Saheb Dundu Pant, who has a palace nearby at Bithoor, had sent him to appeal to the Queen because Lord Dalhousie refused to continue the pension that his father received on the grounds that Nana Saheb is an adopted, not a natural, son. Arthur says that according to Indian custom adopted sons have the same rights as natural ones, and both he and James feel that he has been treated unfairly, and that it is to his credit that he remains so friendly with us. Despite his petition having been rejected, Nana Saheb himself does not seem bitter at all. He is uncommonly hospitable to the Europeans at Cawnpore, and often gives balls and picnics for us. He has even lent Louisa a Broadwood piano, as her own was damaged while being transported to Cawnpore. James and she have become quite friendly with him and often visit him at Bithoor.

Arthur and I went with them last week (which was when I met Mr. Khan) and Nana Saheb was
most
gracious, although if I am truthful he cuts an absurd figure. He is rather plump with a round face, and wears very tight clothes made of bright shiny materials, and so many jewels that he resembles nothing so much as a gigantic Christmas tree ornament. His manners are equally elaborate, for he told Arthur that the world was ringing with his fame, that tales of his feats of courage had
travelled before him and that he was honoured to meet such a legendary figure. Arthur looked astonished, but bowed politely. When it was my turn, he told me that it was beyond the bounds of belief that there could be two such paragons of beauty as Louisa and I in the same family, that our radiance put the moon to shame and that a mere glimpse of us would be worth a million pounds to most mortals!

I had to press my handkerchief against my mouth to keep from laughing, but Louisa just bowed and smiled. She tells me that such compliments are mere common courtesy among native princes and that her father often had to translate such remarks for visiting officials as: ‘His Majesty says, my lord, that you are his father and mother, that the sun rises and sets by your goodwill, that you are day and night to him, and he prays that roses shall bloom in the garden of your friendship, and nightingales sing in the bowers of your affection!’

We walked through the palace gardens together and Nana Saheb reassured us that we need have no fears of a mutiny. He does not believe it likely that the troops would betray their colours but has assured us of his support. James has arranged for Louisa and the children to be taken under his protection in case of an uprising, and he very kindly invited me to join them. So you see, you and Papa need not worry!

We are invited to a ball at Bithoor on Saturday, so I shall be able to describe the inside of the palace to you. The outside is certainly not as ornamental as our own palace at Brighton, but it is a good deal larger and the gardens are very fine.

I am writing my second instalment, as promised, to tell you all about Nana Saheb’s ball at Bithoor. When we arrived, the
gardens were strung with coloured lanterns so it appeared as a kind of fairyland. Inside the great hall (of which every inch, including the walls and ceiling, is covered with small mirrors) dozens of candles had been lit. It was like being inside a huge glittering diamond, and the colour of our dresses reflected in the mirrors and danced with every movement. The banquet was magnificent, only the dinner service is made up of the oddest mixture of plates, ranging from the finest Sèvres porcelain to the cheapest earthenware, and one of the soup tureens was an unmentionable! Not surprisingly, the soup was politely declined by all the guests. Nana Saheb did not eat with us, for his caste does not allow it, but appeared afterwards to converse and watch the dancing.

Mr. Azimullah Khan was there, too, looking very handsome. He has beautiful manners, and moved amongst us all the time, checking that we were comfortable and had everything we wished. I made the mistake of mentioning to my table companions that my sister had seen him when he was visiting England and taken him for a prince, and a Mr. Lang – a lawyer whom Nana Saheb has been consulting about his appeal – overheard me and told us that while he was in London he too had received an invitation from Lady Duff-Gordon to meet ‘Prince Azimullah Khan’ who was staying with her. He laughed loudly and added, ‘I refused the invitation, saying that I knew him well already for I had had my plate changed by him in Cawnpore quite a hundred times!’

He did not know that Mr. Khan was standing behind him and hearing every word. James whispered to Mr. Lang to be careful, but he laughed and said even more loudly that he was not afraid of the opinion of a charity schoolboy. I could tell James was angry but he changed the subject. He said
afterwards that, if he were Mr. Lang, he would be very careful what he ate or drank from now on.

The tables were cleared and at midnight we saw a firework display, and then danced until the small hours. There were refreshments in a pavilion in the garden and we walked amongst the lanterns and under the stars until it was nearly dawn.

Your loving Cecily

P.S. Mina dearest, I am adding this quickly before the mail goes. Ram Buksh came over in the early hours to tell Arthur that he has discovered that some of the sepoys and sowars are secretly meeting at the home of a risaldar of the 2nd Cavalry. He believes Azimullah Khan is behind it. James says he has never trusted Mr. Khan and believes he is trying to turn Nana Saheb against us and that it is all the more important that we try to maintain his friendship. Louisa and I are leaving for the hills with the children in a few weeks but I cannot help worrying about Arthur and James, although Arthur assures me that there is nothing to fear.

As if things were not bad enough already, it appears that, through some oversight, the new Enfield rifles with which the sepoys have been issued utilise cartridges that are greased with tallow made from beef and pork fat. As the paper cover has to be torn with the teeth, this has upset both Hindoos and Mohammedans. When one of the sepoys at Barrackpore refused to use them last month and fired at an officer, the whole regiment was accused of mutiny and disbanded, which Arthur said was a grave injustice, and foolhardy, given the resentment already caused by the annexation of Oudh.

Dear Mina,

We shall not be going to the hills after all, as the situation here is worsening daily and Arthur says is too unsafe for us to travel. He says that Ram Buksh told him that there is much talk amongst the men about a prophecy, made at the time of Clive’s great victory at Plassey, that the Company would last only one hundred years, and the centenary falls this year.

Mr. Azimullah Khan is apparently telling the sepoys and sowars that England is not the large and powerful country that we pretend but a small and gloomy land where the sun hardly lifts its head above the horizon, that our Great Queen is a short fat woman under the thumb of her husband, and that he has seen white men labouring and living in filth and poverty such as no Indian would tolerate. Apparently he visited the Crimea on his way back to India and witnessed the sorry condition of our troops and the terrible losses they were sustaining. He is telling everyone of the stupidity and incompetence of our officers. Arthur says the worst of it is that it is true, and that we shall never live down the shame of our Crimea campaign. Everyone is trying to put a brave face on it but I can tell they are worried.

In case of an uprising here, General Wheeler has taken the precaution of constructing an entrenchment that can be defended until reinforcements arrive. Arthur has doubts about this plan – he says an entrenchment surrounded by buildings will be too exposed. He feels that we should use the Magazine, both to stop it falling into the hands of the mutineers and because it is easier to defend – but his respect for General Wheeler prevents him from expressing his doubts, especially
as there is a group of people – boxwallahs mainly – who pooh-pooh fears of an uprising and accuse those concerned, including General Wheeler, of being croakers.