As the races are the ostensible object of the meeting, all the arrangements are made with special reference to them. There are usually four days’ races, on alternate days, i.e. on Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday, and the ensuing Tuesday. The races take place at seven in the morning. Thus most of the visitors arrive on Monday, and on Monday evening the first lotteries are held for speculation on the races which are to take place on Tuesday morning. On Tuesday evening there is a ball; on Wednesday everyone is supposed to be recovering from the effects of the combined dissipation of Tuesday’s races and ball; until Wednesday evening provides another lottery for speculation on the races of Thursday morning, which are to be followed by another ball on Thursday night; so that theoretically a day of rest comes in between each day of pleasure, or “trouble” as the Yankees more rightly call it.
We will attempt to describe the proceedings of one day at Sonepore. It is the first Tuesday, and we are startled from our sleep by the bang of a big cannon, which seems to be at the door of our tent. This is called “gunfire,” and means that dawn is breaking. Just as you are composing yourself to sleep again you hear the sound of music, and there comes the band of a native regiment playing some noisy tune as they march along the road through the centre of all the camps, and, having got to the end of it, back they come again playing louder than before. Meanwhile all the servants have been aroused, and your man comes into the tent and tells you that it is time to get up; and, in fact, unless you mean to cut the amusement altogether, it is best to get up and dress. By the time you reach your camp mess-tent you will probably find the charming hostess who presides over your camp ready and waiting for you with one or two of her pretty girls, whose fresh and bright faces never look better than at this early and trying time. Tea and coffee are ready for you, and, as the party gradually collects in the tent, the carriages come to the entrance of the camp, and you either drive to the race-stand, or join a walking party with those who want the little walk to warm them. The race-stand commands a good view of the races; but one race is very much like another, except that at an Indian race-course you probably know most of the owners of the horses, or some of the gentleman-riders, so that a stronger personal feeling exists; and the young ladies will insist on betting for gloves and backing the worst horse in the race, merely because it is to be ridden by that good-looking young officer to whom they are engaged for at least three dances at the coming ball. The races usually last till about 10 o’clock, when we all go back to our camps and make ready for breakfast.
In the hospitable camp to which I belonged for several years at Sonepore, the tea and coffee of breakfast were usually followed or superseded by “just one glass of champagne to begin with,” as our kind host would cheerfully say, and it seemed to be generally considered that a few glasses of good champagne were very acceptable at breakfast after the early morning’s work. After breakfast no one seems to think of repose. Some of the younger people at once set to work at Badminton and lawn-tennis; others make up parties to go to see the horses and elephants, and other sights of the native fair; whilst others set forth to pay visits at the other camps, for there is a sort of unwritten law of etiquette that all the camps should call on one another as fast as possible. By 2 o’clock we are summoned to lunch, and again the champagne flows freely for those who prefer it to beer or other liquids. After lunch the hostess of the camp usually tries to get some of the ladies to rest themselves in their tents, on the plea of looking after their dresses for the ball in the evening; but there are some perverse and indefatigable girls who will go on with lawn-tennis, or join in a Badminton tournament, until tea is announced. Then the carriages and horses come to the door, and we all drive or ride out to the course. There is probably a fierce game of polo going on between civil and military, or the planters of two rival districts, or the Public Schools against the World, or any other combination of forces that can be devised. On some days there are cricket-matches arranged between similar parties and factions. Meanwhile one of the military bands is playing in front of the race-stand, and there pour forth upon the course all the carriages and horses that can be mustered for the occasion. There are a few ladies riding with their attendant squires. There comes the drag of the young Raja of Durbanga covered with his lady guests, whilst the Raja himself handles the reins and puts his well-broken horses into a gallop along the back of the course. Tandems driven from high dog-carts seem to have a special attraction for some young ladies, and after the horses have steadied down a little to their work, the reins are usually transferred to the hands of the young lady until some impending danger makes it necessary to resume them from her. However, collisions and accidents rarely occur; and as darkness speedily comes on, the carriages and their occupants soon disappear from the course and return to their camps.
About 8 o’clock the camp-gong gives the signal for dinner, and a party of about twenty or thirty assemble in almost every mess-tent. In a well-managed camp the hostess generally takes care to fill up any vacancies at her table by inviting guests from the other camps. Any member of a camp who is going out to dinner is expected to give early notice to his hostess, so that she may be able to ask a friend from some other camp in his place. By this arrangement an agreeable exchange of hospitality is kept up, and the monotony of always having the same set of faces avoided. Many of the ladies appear at dinner ready dressed for the ball afterwards, but some of the most wary ones reserve a few final touches of dress for after dinner. It is astonishing what a magic effect is sometimes produced by those few final touches. It is hardly necessary to say that during dinner much fun and merriment prevail all round the table. However the guests may be told off and assorted at first, it is curious to observe how, after a day or two, certain young ladies and certain young gentlemen always happen to sit next or near to one another at the several meals, and take a sort of monopoly of certain seats for themselves and their own particular acquaintances. It not seldom happens that some unfortunate youth makes himself ridiculous or in some way obnoxious to the other young people, and then they all combine to make his life a burthen to him unless he shows symptoms of reformation and better behaviour. Of course, long before dinner the ball-cards of all the best dancers are filled up, but during dinner a half promise of one more “extra” may be secured, or some convenient exchange of promised dances arranged to suit the wishes of sisters or bosom friends. But we must not linger too long over the dinner-table. The carriages are announced to be ready, and are rapidly filled and sent off to the ball-room, from which sometimes they come back to be refilled by a second detachment of the party.
The ball-room at Sonepore is a well-proportioned room which holds about two hundred people conveniently. The music is provided by the regimental bands in turns, and is usually very good. A long verandah and corridor outside the ball-room, not too brilliantly lighted up, afford a convenient retreat for those who wish to improve the opportunities of the dance by a little further conversation with their partner before she returns to her chaperone, or is carried off by the man to whom she is engaged for the next dance. If you wander along the corridor you will come first to the tea-room, and then to the supper-room, which will not be opened before midnight. Dancing is usually kept up with much spirit; and as there are always more gentlemen than ladies, the latter seldom have to sit out a dance for want of a partner. But, of course, one ball is very like another ball, and they must all come to an end. Some prudent mammas insist on going away before supper, others more indulgently remain throughout the whole of the programme; but at last “God save the Queen” admonishes even the latest lingerers that it is time to go home. We must not follow the young ladies to their tents; but it is very well known that they do sit up there for a very long time, laughing and talking over all the incidents of the ball. To the men the hour after the ball is often one of grateful refreshment, as we gather together in the comfortable arm-chairs of the al fresco drawing-room, and sit wrapped in our great-coats, smoking the fragrant weed, and protecting ourselves from the cold night air with steaming glasses of whisky-and-water, and discussing the events of the day and the plans of the morrow, until we retreat to our tents comforted with the knowledge that there will be no big gun fired to wake us at daybreak, and there will be no horrid band marching through the camp to disturb our slumbers. And so end the labours of a long Tuesday.
Wednesday is theoretically to be a day of rest. The camp breakfast hour is fixed at 10, but there are some ardent spirits who know no repose, and your rest is disturbed by the noise made in the adjacent tent by your friends Jones and Smith, who are bent on an expedition to shoot snipe or quail before breakfast. Other men are getting up early to go down to the fair to look at the horses which are for sale; and presently the soft voices of fair girls are heard, and you find that two or more of them have emerged from their tents to have just one game of lawn tennis before breakfast, by way of practice for the impending tournament. How delightful it must be to be young and not to know what fatigue means! And so this theoretical day of rest goes on. After breakfast every sort of amusement is arranged for the day, and no one seems to think of resting. One of the things that has to be done at Sonepore is to go and see the native fair. It is most convenient to go to the fair on an elephant, as the crowds of people are so dense, and many of the roads at the fair are too narrow, or otherwise unsuited for carriages. So two or three elephants are brought round, and parties made up to mount them. There is usually room for about four persons on each elephant; and if two young men can find themselves on an elephant with two pretty girls, they seem to think themselves in the seventh heaven. The movements of an elephant are sometimes rather rough, and the fair riders not only hold on desperately at first to the ropes, but seldom object to be also held on by the stronger arm of man. However, away they go, jolting and swaying about under the trees, and trying to manage their umbrellas or parasols so as to keep off the sun, which still smites down fiercely with his rays. As we arrive at the native fair, we first come upon endless rows of horses tethered under the long ranges of trees. The horses are numbered by hundreds, or rather by thousands, and come from the most distant parts of India, and sometimes from Bokhara and Persia; some of them look very handsome with their arched necks and long manes. But we must not detain our fair charges here too long. Onwards we go, a large bell round the elephant’s neck warning the swarming crowd to keep out of the way. The fair is laid out in the usual Oriental style, with all the vendors of one sort of thing collected in one place, or bazaar, as it is called. Here is the shoe bazaar, with fifty little shops or stalls, full of every kind of leather shoe of native make, and the gayest slippers embroidered with gold thread, and also a small stock of patent-leather shoes of English make to suit the tastes of those who have been educated to consider a patent-leather shoe as emblematic of an acquisition of a knowledge of English. Next we come to the cloth bazaar, where, in another fifty shops, all the manufactures of Manchester are to be seen, either in the original bales, or opened out and temptingly displayed to attract customers. The next bazaar is full of shops containing eatables, not eatables suited to the English taste, but different sorts of rice and grains, and confections of sugar and almonds and cocoa-nuts and pastry, in which our native brethren delight. At a corner where two roads cross, and the crowd is densest, you will find an English or American missionary mounted on a chair, and addressing the multitude with a vehemence and earnestness which arrests their attention for a few moments, but, unfortunately, seldom produces any permanent results. Presently we come to the place where the dealers in elephants keep these animals for sale, and we pass among these rather dangerous monsters with some apprehension, lest a sudden fit of jealousy or excitement should make some irascible “Jumbo” attack our elephant. Hundreds of elephants are standing about in groups under the trees, whilst others are being taken down to bathe in the neighbouring river. Onward we go, to find ourselves amongst long strings of camels. Then we come to the police encampment, where the native officer in charge of the arrangements of the fair has provided a temporary lock-up for offenders; but offences are usually very few and trivial. Next we come to the bazaar where the sounds of music may be heard from morn till night, and through the long hours of the night; whilst nautch-girls dance and sing for the delectation of their native audience, who sit for hours like enchanted listeners. Finally, let us visit the bird-bazaar, where all kinds of fancy birds are collected, parrots of all sorts in hundreds, peacocks, quails, bulbuls, talking mynas, Java sparrows, and hundreds of other pretty feathered creatures. At length it is time to return to camp, and we wend our way back under the trees, weary and dusty, and grateful that our elephant has not walked over any of the hundreds of thousands of our Aryan brethren amongst whom we have been wandering. We alight from the elephant, feeling rather happy to be released from the back-breaking position; and, after exhibiting the wonderful bargains and purchases which we have made, we hasten to prepare ourselves for the pleasures of lunch and some well-iced refreshing drink.
It would be tedious to go on with a repetition of the daily laborious round of pleasure and enjoyment which lasts for the ten days of the meeting. We have only space to allude to one special form of pleasure, viz. the camp-fire evenings, for which Sonepore is particularly famous. The officers of the English regiment usually issue an invitation for a camp-fire party after dinner, with their band to play; or they kindly lend their band to some other camp which may have a larger and more convenient space for a good camp-fire. A huge bonfire is then piled up in the centre of the space before the camp, and when the torch is applied it blazes up fiercely, whilst all the guests sit round on chairs and couches and listen to the music of the band. Sometimes a few songs and glees are sung. It is a weird but charming scene as we look round on all the quaint figures wrapped up in shawls and cloaks and great-coats and extemporised head-dresses; for it is just cold enough to make a few warm garments acceptable, though there is no great risk of catching cold in the calm and soft night air. There is certainly something almost savouring of the supernatural which comes over the mind at these camp-fire evenings, and it is well known that many a fair maiden has found the time and place not unsuitable to receive the confession of undying love and affection which her youthful admirer had previously hesitated to make. It may be that the bonfire was burning low; but when it suddenly blazes out again with fresh and bright flames, watchful eyes are not wanting to observe how by some casual movement the unsuspecting young pair have come into a proximity which obviously indicates that a great and happy change has suddenly come over their future destiny.
No one who has been at a Sonepore race-meeting can ever forget the pleasures, in so many new and varied forms, which he there enjoyed. The life in the open air under the shady trees, the perfect liberty of the friendly interchange of hospitality, the cordial greetings of old friends, the pleasant introductions to new acquaintances, all throw a special charm over the reminiscences of it. It is not to be wondered at that by the planters of the adjoining districts, and also by the Government officials, the Sonepore meeting is looked forward to as the great event of the year. As soon as one meeting is half over, plans and engagements are entered into with a view to prepare for the enjoyment of the meeting of the coming year. Let us hope that these meetings may long continue to flourish; and if any of my old hosts were to send a very pressing invitation to me, I am half-inclined to think that I would go out all the way from England to India to take advantage of it.
CHAPTER IV.
THE BENGAL CIVIL SERVICE.
Lord Ellenborough, once Governor-General of India, and formerly President of the Board of Control, records in his political diary how the Duke of Wellington always mentioned in high terms the gallantry of the Indian army and the purity of the Civil Service. We must leave it to others to write of the Indian army. For the present we propose to devote our attention to the Civil Service in its extensive social relations in India. The purity of the Civil Service may well be said to be its distinguishing characteristic; and for this quality it was specially held in honour by the great Duke. The pure light of the Civil Service of India still shines like a guiding star before the faces of the millions of our Oriental subjects and allies.