Letter from Emma Evans to her cousin Arthur Phelps.
Transcribed from a scan of the original in February 2013 by Penelope
Forrest, born Phelps, great granddaughter of Arthur.
Bosworth
March 18th [1854] . Mary Cope only
15 today
My dearest Arthur,
I must say I was not prepared for having to scold you just as
much now that you are an Indian officer, as I had when you were a nasty little
fat dirty boy here, but I see "The sky & not the mind they change Who into
foreign countries range." But to enter into particulars, I was very glad indeed
to receive your note – but when the question arose 'Where does he write from?' I
could find nothing but 'The Breach Candy'1. I
confess I didn't feel very sure as to where candy was to be found, putting
grocers' shops out of the question, but Anne said she thought it was 'Ceylon,
capital Candy'. Then we wondered how on earth you got there and I suggested that
as we had never heard anything very definite about your destination, perhaps you
were going to Calcutta after all and had stopped there on your way. But as that
explanation was not considered quite satisfactory, I wrote to Fanny to have it
all cleared up – & she wrote back calmly that I was the only person whom you had
favoured with the name of Candy in your date, & that she could not help me, &
that you had not mentioned at all how your letters were to be addressed. Now
that sort of thing is very aggravating as I think you had been told before – &
as I dare say Fanny will tell you again. You will never get on as you ought,
without you are more wide awake & business like. Papa says that your ellipses
were all very well up in school, though they were provoking then, but that they
are not bearable now.
And now you see you have made me
occupy the first page in abuse instead of making myself agreeable & I could fill
this too with observations on the omissions & writing of your letter. Well –
thank you for it, dear old boy, though you ought to have had several ready to
post at Alexandria, a long one to me among the number, in answer to all the
questions I think I asked you in my last. How very weakminded of you to let the
young lady bag Anne's song! Never laugh at Mrs
Granger's extracting tea & sugar from me again.
I am so glad you wrote to Madlle
from Malta. It is a long time since I heard from her. Mrs
Pearson is looking out for a German governess, as the one they had didn't do
(though Mrs P says she never had anyone in the
house who gave her so little trouble, for she took such excellent care of
herself that it made it quite unnecessary for anyone else to care for her) &
Mamma has written to tell her of Madlle. I doubt if
Madlle would come but perhaps she might.
I should have liked very much to cross
the desert with you. What a pity you could not have stayed a month or two to see
Thebes &c. And what a pity that you could not go & see Mrs
Miles & her baby – for I suppose it was a case of impossibility. She would have
liked to see you.
I hear you are attached to the rifles
at present. Have you the faintest notion of shooting? I should like to see you
in your regimentals I must say. You must look so very funny dear. Shall you be
in a horse regiment, & shall you wear a moustache? If so, you must
have a photograph of yourself done, for my edification. I should really like one
very much. I meant to have done you if you had come here. I cannot imagine what
portrait of me you mean – I didn't know you had one.
I wish you could see my room now. I
have effected a great revolution there, that I had been contemplating for years,
namely the ejection of Papa's books & book shelves, which were all moved into
the study a few days ago. It was no joke lowering those great heavy shelves over
the banisters but we managed it with clothes lines from the top, without even
injuring one hat peg at the bottom, & I have now a nice blank wall to hang my
pictures on & my room looks wonderfully the brighter for the change. I am
getting every thing there into first rate order now that it is free from the
incursions of little boys & am busy making a box of complicated structure to
hold my bottles, which would be a very nice piece of work but somehow the
compartments won't go square.
Poor Bassy is as unsettled as ever
about curacies. He went to Marlborough to see about one, & would have taken it,
but that the notice to the Bishop was too short for him to be ordained at the
Lent Ordn & the Rector could not wait till June. As
Bassy found he had meant to go abroad during April, May & June if B could have
taken the curacy this month, one cannot regret it much, for he must be a very
inconsiderate man to think of setting a young curate to begin his duties
singlehanded in that way. B has asked about several more, & has now answered
several rather promising advertisements in the Eccles. Gaztte
but nothing has turned up yet, & though he says nothing one can see that all
this waiting & uncertainty is very trying to him. He & I have been very busy
lately putting his collection of old drawings in order – taking them off their
old mountings & putting them on new ones &c. He has a very fine collection –
about 80 of them – & they made quite an imposing shew when he displayed them all
in the great attic.
Papa does not keep very well I am
sorry to say. He will go into school & it is rather too much for him though he
will not acknowledge it & he often looks very pale & tired. We are afraid that
he will try the 7 o'clock school after Easter, which will be sure to make him
ill – but it is impossible to persuade him to spare himself. We still keep to
whist every evening & he is becoming almost a good player with the exception of
a few little peculiarities that he will stick to.
Emily Atwood goes on flourishingly but
perhaps you did not hear of her illness. While she was staying here, she went
one day to Osbaston with me to dine there; & while there she had an attack of
spitting blood & was not able to return here for ten days. It was never to any
great extent but it went on for 48 hours & a symptom of that kind always
frightens one very much – all the more so for happening there. She is now at
home again & says she feels better than before the attack & her Gloucester
doctor says there is no disease of the lungs & that her heart, which went wrong
from rheumatic fever, is better than when he last examined her.
Anne & I called on Miss Hook on
Tuesday, & told her of your safe arrival in India (you know we could not enter
into particulars) & she was very glad to hear it, & begged us to "name" her to
you – which indefinite message I beg now to present to you. Poor old lady, her
left eye is getting almost as blind as the other, & she is often in very low
spirits about it, but she seemed very cheerful while we were there, & much
pleased with the violets we had gathered in the Deepholen lane.
The Copes are very well – & came, all
of them, & Charlotte Bounce, on Wednesday, to see the performance of the Wizard
of Wizards at the Dixie after an early tea here. They were very good, & little
Marie's horror when she saw the man burn Mrs Cope's
handkerchief & her amazement when it was afterwards found in the middle of a
loaf which came out of old Bradbury's hat, were not the least amusing part of
the entertainment. We had a phrenologist (also electro-biologist, mesmerist &c)
here lately, who 'did' heads for a shilling, so we all had ours examined – &
they were really not very bad. Not so good as Mr
Rumball's but quite true enough to be very amusing. His electro-biological
experiments were very successful on one boy, Dingley's son, but I did not see
them, as I could not persuade anyone to escort me there, except kind Mrs
Cope, who would evidently rather not go. I never know how much to believe of it
& wanted to see some for myself as I flatter myself I have good eyes.
I am very anxious to receive the
sensible letter you promise me. It will be the first of its kind from that
quarter. Write to me dear old fellow whenever you have time & inclination – &
don't pay the postage. I wd give 10d
any day to see a 'sensible letter' from you. Talking of such, Mamma had a long
one today from Sib2, who has taken a house,
'Brown's Hill', near Stroud. He is a very nice good fellow & I really like him I
think.
Poor John is rather disheartened about
Indian affairs just now as with so probable a prospect of war of course nothing
else can be much attended to for the present. Uncle John has taken a house in
London, 39 Upper Brook St, Grosvenor Square, but Fanny will tell you all about
that I dare say.
Of course we hear nothing of Staffy.
He has cut us all as completely as I expected he would, even more so, for I
thought he would write a few little notes at first. "His memory is green" in the
shape of Polly, which still remains to remind us of his existence.
I am sorry to hear of every body's
occupation at "Candy" – though it is much the same as every body's elsewhere.
Pray don't help them in it. However I don't think that it is an occupation much
to your taste & pray fortify your heart very securely against the fascinations
of the fair English damsels. Also allow me to suggest that when you next write
on foreign paper, a pen is a better implement for the purpose, than the tip of
the finger, with which latter your note to me is apparently written. Have you
any friend at Candy? If so, do ask him as a favour to shake you now & then. I
don't think you will get on really well without it. I am glad you like "85 in
your tents". I doubt if I should but I am not sure. Pray don't go & do silly
things with yourself as you most likely will. Take the advice of any old Indians
that will give you any, particularly such as advise you to eschew wine &
fermented liquors of all kinds.
Aunt Charlotte is thinking of taking
in Mr Bailey, the Cadeby curate, as a lodger – but
it seems an affair very hard to settle. He is almost as particular as she, & I
am afraid they will prove rather 'two of a trade'. If they can get on together,
I dare say the arrangement will be for the comfort of both parties. He is a nice
mild young man, very amiable, & with a good eye for his own interests. Miss
Tarah is much the same, quite childish & helpless – and of course poor Aunt
Charlotte makes herself frightfully anxious about her lodger, & cannot imagine
what she shall order for dinner &c, though Mamma assures her that the
arrangement will not be so irrevocable as a marriage.
Captain & Mrs
Lloyd have just been calling here. He is getting dreadfully fat, but looks very
good-humoured. She is looking very well & handsome. The Haywards are not coming
here till June as Kate, who is sadly rheumatic, dreads the cold of Bosworth.
Just fancy Jenny having Professor Maurice3 for a
sitter. Kate had advised her to ask him to sit, several times, which she as
often of course refused, so Kate wrote to Mr Davis,
their cousin John's rector, & a great friend of Maurice's, to ask him, & the
Prof immediately consented, much to Jenny's alarm. They wanted me to come & stay
with them to see him & help talking while he was sitting – which of course I
wouldn't. If there had not been 20 other good reasons, I should not have dared
go – as the "potential heretic-maker" (which Macmillan says is all they dare
call him & not 'heretic') would have been too potent for me, whose opinions
still continue in a rather amorphous condition on most points. I should like to
see the picture, not that I think I should be at all satisfied with it. Jenny is
not up to it I fear. And she will make her faces too red, which would not suit
him at all. I should have liked to see him near & to hear him talk. It is the
finest face I know, to my mind. I like reading him very much, hearing him,
better, & looking at him best of all, I think, which is perhaps an odd way of
admiring him – but I think if one had wise eyes one ought to be able to learn
more from what is written in the face of a man like that, than from just so much
of it as he might choose to tell one by word of mouth or in his books.
The Smythes are going away soon, but
when is rather uncertain, as he poor man, has been almost unable to move from
sciatica lately. I am so sorry for them all. There is his father sickly,
childish & not good tempered, her mother a confirmed invalid, Mr
Smythe, out of health both in body & mind, Mrs very
far from strong, and a baby. I wish they may get on well but it does not seem
probable.
I have just been putting the hinges on
to the lid of my box, & have just enjoyed the pleasing surprise of finding it
shuts all right. The partitions would go crooked, & the angles will stand a
little open – but otherwise it is a very nice box – good, if not beautiful.
I have left them at 3 handed whist
downstairs, as Bassy is gone to spend the evening at the Hubbard's where are
staying various Chamberlains & Beresfords. It is so pleasant for us all to be at
home together again & to have no one staying in the house. I am glad you came a
little to your senses & liked Bassy better before you left England. I should be
glad to know that there were a dozen such in existence. I don't know what I
shall do when he is settled at the other end of the country & no chance of
seeing him for more than a few days in the course of the year. I think I must go
& keep house for him.
When you write, do not forget to
answer various questions I asked you before, especially as to what is to be done
with the Bleak Houses & other books & goods you left behind you. They are in
Anne's custody now, so she is anxious to know what is to become of them. Dear
old Pumpy, tell me all you can about yourself when you write. I dare say the hot
climate makes you feel inclined to be very lazy – but don't let it. I don't feel
very anxious about your getting among a bad set such as may be found anywhere,
because I don't think really bad ones would be at all to your taste – but what I
do think is that you won't do nearly all the good you might & ought, from your
habit of holding your tongue. You can stand ridicule I think better than most,
though you don't like it & remember that is a power for which you are very
accountable. And don't try to fight the devil with his own weapons – he will get
the better of you with them. It's very easy to preach, isn't it? (not that I
find it so) but I think so much about you that I must preach a little.
All here send their love to you. A
great deal from me to you my dear old Pumpy. God bless you. Ever believe me your
loving friend & cousin,
Emma Evans.
1. Breach Candy is an area in South Bombay.
2. Sib = Sebastian Dickinson, son of Mrs Evans's brother Tom.
3. Frederick Denison Maurice was dismissed from the professorships of Divinity &
English at King's College in 1854, after publication in 1853 of a volume of
Theological Essays, in which he questioned the doctrine of eternal punishment. A
portrait of him by Jane Mary Hayward appears on the site:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/F._D._Maurice