Original Letters from India

by Eliza Fay, Simon Winchester (Introduction), E.M. Forster (Editor)

Eliza Fay’s origins are obscure; she was not beautiful, rich, or outlandishly accomplished. Yet the letters she wrote from her 1779 voyage across the globe captivated E. M. Forster, who arranged for their British publication in 1925. The letters have been delighting readers ever since with their truth-is-stranger-than-fiction twists and turns, their earthy humor, and their depiction of an indomitable woman.

When the intrepid Mrs. Fay departed from Dover more than two hundred years ago, she embarked on a grueling twelve-month journey through much of Europe, up the Nile, over the deserts of Egypt, and finally across the ocean to India. Along the way her party encountered wars, territorial disputes, brigands, and even imprisonment.

Fay was a contemporary of Jane Austen, but her adventures are worthy of a novel by Daniel Defoe. These letters—unfiltered, forthright, and often hilarious—bring the perils and excitements of an earlier age to life.

Genres: Travel, India, Nonfiction, History, Memoir, 19th Century, Classics

288 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1817

Reviews

[Luke · Rating 4 out of 5]

3.5/5

Her floods of tears and fainting fits are always postponed until a convenient moment: they never intrude while she is looking after her luggage or outwitting her foes.

-E.M. Forster

This is a peculiarly literary work in ways that contributed partway to my rather utilitarian reading reasons, but also in ways I didn't quite register until after my reading. For one, this edition is the one with E.M. Forster's preface, footnotes, and general literary characterization, while Hogarth Press is the one founded by Virginia and Leonard all those years ago. I'll be honest and say that the text doesn't quite measure up literary wise to those esteemed names, although Eliza was probably simply more honest about her early 19th century bigotries than those 20th century giants were. What value I got lay in how readable this work was, much more an Austen than an Edgeworth, which was especially reassuring considering how much doubt the latter cast on my ability to read English from Ye Olden Post-Shakespearean times. I also appreciated how unorthodox a life Fay led in general: she would have been a strong figure in feminist politics if life had led her in that direction, although I don't see her rising above her time (except, perhaps, in the realm of Jewish people) in order to combat xenophobia and racism and the like. All in all, this is a very interesting view of history that counterbalances some of the big, striding man voices obsessed with the French Revolution, the Battle of Waterloo, and the customary much else where women rarely figure, with the added bonus of traversing through lands not commonly touched upon in early Anglo lit through lenses that, however biased, bring something new to the conventional narrative that is deemed need to know in both history and Anglo writing.

Oh my dear sister! how can I in the overflowing of a grateful heart do otherwise than lament, that the name of this once distinguished people should have become a term of reproach! Exiled from the land promised to the seed of Abraham; scattered over the face of the earth, yet adhering with firmness to the religion of their fathers, this race once the boasted favourites of Heaven, are despised and rejected by every nation in the world. The land that affords shelter, denies them a participation in the rights of citizenship. Under such circumstances of mortifying contempt, and invidious segregation, it is no wonder that many of the children of Israel in the present day evince more acuteness than delicacy in their transactions, and are too well disposed to take advantage of those, from whom they have endured so much scorn and persecution.

Forster was correct in characterizing Fay's first trip as her best and the incarceration she suffered upon reaching what she thought to be her final destination. After that initial extraordinary plunge where Ms. Fay proves a far worthier human being than her tinder box of a passive husband, the narrative rather devolves into an ever changing litany of names and courtesies and charming vistas filled with white settler states, although the odd mention of a former slave (the ugliest mark on Fay's record by far) and a black preacher go some way in more accurately portraying the landscape. Fay is largely in her element when traversing on land, as I am one who has never been to many of these countries or seen any of the sights of mountains and royal palaces (she mentions witnessing Marie Antoinette in the flesh before that figure's final downfall, which was one of the more revelatory scenes where one is forcibly reminded that, yes, Fay did exist way back when, and she was writing to boot). I was invested enough to wish for a map of her journey at times, which I hope more contemporary editions have thought to include. Fay does have her dull and/or ugly moments, as discussed previously, but her remarks on Indian women, Jewish people, and women in general are surprisingly forward thinking at times, and she sometimes serves as a true example of a small someone going against the grain of hatred. I doubt her being consistent about her sticking up for the little ones would've brought any of the fortune she sorely needed her way, but at least we have her writing today to give us a picture of a world that had its moments of true compassion amidst some particularly odious social systems.

I cannot avoid smiling when I hear gentlemen bring forward the conduct of the Hindoo women, as a test of superior character, since I am well aware that so much are we the slaves of habit every where that were it necessary for a woman's reputation to burn herself in England, many a one who has accepted a husband merely for the sake of an establishment, who has lived with him without affection; perhaps thwarted his views, dissipated his fortune and rendered his life uncomfortable to its close, would yet mount the funeral pile with all imaginable decency and die with heroic fortitude.

A bit of a random bag with this one, but I'm glad that my 2019 Quest for Women led me in this direction, one that, ideally, the shiny new(ish) NYRB Classics edition will lead other prospective readers. If all of the NYRB Classics published were works such as this, or An African in Greenland, or The Bridge of Beyond, I'd be much happier with it as an imprint, and I would likely be pursuing it with the same fervor I once did all those years ago. It is destabilization of the canon that I'm interested in, and anything old and out of the way is fair game. I certainly haven't liked everything I've come across, and Fay rides a very fine line between entertaining and obtuse, but Forster did pick up on some of her more positive qualities, and as he's one of the few white boys I'm seriously considering reading/rereading in the future, I have to give him some credit. All in all, if you're looking for something old, sightseeing, unusual, and surprisingly readable, Eliza Fay is your travelogue.

Mrs. Fay cares nothing for her beloved country as long as she can get her letters delivered safely.

-E.M. Forster

[Caspar "moved to storygraph" Bryant]

ok so I picked this up bc I am NYRB's bitch & will do what they tell me
definitely one if you're a big fan of 18th century epistles. I kind of enjoyed (?) the bittersweet emergent narrative - which of course isn't a narrative but her life - about her husband, Mr fay, who undergoes a pretty rapid series of characterisations, from swashbuckling & bold on the journey out to India, to lazy & meek in Calcutta. Her frustration with him is palpable in these, which, being letters home to family in England does suggest to me that she was proper fuming in the flesh. poignant if sickening note toward the end as she mentions being required to take care of his 'natural child' on a voyage to tenerife

[Melissa McShane · Rating 4 out of 5]

I came across this while looking for texts about the everyday experience of living in India in the early 1800s. There are not a lot of these. Eliza Fay set off from England, relatively newly married, and crossed Europe and the Middle East before taking ship for Calcutta. She experienced adventures like crossing the desert and being captured by the notorious Hyder Ali (and held prisoner for several months), not to mention being played false by her husband and eventually having to arrange for the care of his half-caste illegitimate child. Her letters home, which is what this book comprises, contain details that bring her adventures to life. Fay has a lively voice and I was thoroughly entertained.

However, I had the feeling that Eliza Fay was the sort of managing woman nobody really wants to hang around with. She mentions being taken up by a number of high-ranking women in Calcutta society, but after a few letters their attention drops away. She was clever, but not clever enough to keep herself out of penury, and while maybe it's unfair to criticize her for that, there are hints in her letters that some of her situation was because she wasn't a very nice person. However, as I said, I was entertained and learned enough of Calcutta society that the book was worth reading.

[Barbara Sibbald]

Eliza Fay (1755-1816) a sparsely educated middle-class English woman made four voyages to Calcutta during her life, three as a single woman, and wrote long “letters” which read more like diary entries, about her adventures and acute observations. They were first published in 1817 and eventually published in 1925 by the Woolf’s Hogarth Press at E.M. Forster’s urging… and thankfully he provides an insightful introduction setting the historical context and providing summaries of the voyages. The letters are rambling, but life and people are astutely and humorously observed. And one can’s help but wonder at our intrepid heroine.
The letters begin in Paris on 18 April 1779; her account suggests she had been to France several times before. She sees and admires Marie Antoinette, but is put off by constant need to show papers and other delays. It is the start of a perilous 12-month journey through Europe, across the Alps, by sea to Egypt, then across the deserts of Egypt in a caravan that was attacked by bandits and finally across the ocean to India only to be imprisoned on arrival in Calicut by Hyder Ali, Muslim King of Mysore who hates the English for taking a port from him. These are the best letters: intense, passionate, filled with venom and humour. Eventually escaping with the help of a Jewish merchant from Cochin, Mr Isaac, she and her husband arrived in Calcutta in May 1780, where he was admitted as an advocate and began to practice.
He is a cad and she quickly separates from him, making her way back to England but she visits India three more times as an entrepreneur in millinery business, a school and as a ship owner.
It’s incredible to think that she lived in the era of Jane Austen. I do admire her intrepid nature and insatiable curiosity about life around her. She is the heroine of her own epistolary. Well worth the read, though the grammar and run-on sentences do wear you down at times. Take in small bites and enjoy.

[Helen · Rating 2 out of 5]

Not at all as entertaining as I had hoped :/

[Patricia · Rating 3 out of 5]

The letters don't give a full picture of what it might be like to live in India, although she does some vivid descriptions of scenery and some sharp observations on the practice of suttee.

The letters do provide an interesting picture of what it was like to travel by ship, mule, and carriage. One of the most descriptive and humorous letters describes the journey over the Alps. She has been instructed not to touch the reins of her mule, and as she reaches a particularly vertiginous spot, "it thought proper to quit the pathway and with great sang froid stalk out upon one of those precipitous projections, where only the foot of a wild goat of Chamois ought to tread. .. The guides gave me great praise for my self command; a praise I never desire to purchase again by similar trial." Throughout the letters, she comes across as reasonably sensitive to trial and discomfort but also inspiring in how resourceful she is about facing it.

The introduction and footnotes by Forster are more unguarded than his novels, in both interesting and dismaying ways. He cites a sadly stereotyping quote from her letters as showing exemplary open-mindedness, for instance. The introduction is sympathetic, but the footnotes get downright catty, as if Foster had been traveling with Fay a little too long.

[Rosana · Rating 3 out of 5]

I hate when life interferes with my reading, and interfering is what it did of lately. Eliza Fay deserved better of me than putting this book down for days at time, just to return to it without great emotional commitment. So, be aware that my impression of this collection of letters was maybe impaired by my own lack of time to devout to it. But, as much as I was impressed by Mrs. Fay strength of character, and the challenges that she faced to reach India, I wanted more of her person in it.

I too have wrote letters that I knew were going to be read by many in my family, and I recognize the “holding back” that it requires, as compared to a letter written to a close friend that we are certain will not share our deep feelings with others.

Anyway, I am still glad I read it, and I would still recommend it to anyone curious of the time period. Just keep in mind that Eliza Fay describes more of the scenery than of her heart.

[Kristina Gibson · Rating 4 out of 5]

Really entertaining if you're a huge travel lit. nerd. Like me.

[Michelle · Rating 3 out of 5]

This was ridiculous but awfully fun. I loved following the progression of her marriage from defending knight--"Mr. Fay drew his sword on this declaration, swearing solemnly that he would run the first man through the body, who should presume to enter his wife's apartment (p. 122)--to thorn in her side.
"But Mr. F-- now seeing the error of his delay, swore to run all hazards, rather than stop any longer at Cochin: a common practice with most people who have brought themselves into difficulties by their imprudence and who seek to regain by obstinacy, what they have lost through folly. Pity such cannot always suffer alone." (p. 164-165)
"Mr. O'Donnell . . . certainly had but too much occasion to feel hurt by the behavior of Mr. Fay, whose temper, as you know, is not the most placid in the world. He quarreled with both him and Mr. Moore during the passage about the merest trifles (wherein too he was palpably in the wrong) and challenged them both: Judge what I must have suffered during these altercations, vainly endeavoring to conciliate, and in agonies lest things should proceed to extremities." (p. 176-177)
"Since I wrote last, my feelings have been harassed in various ways almost beyond endurance--Mr. Fay quitted me on the 31st ultimo, and the rest of that day was devoted to the distressing (however just and necessary) task of delivering back such articles of furniture as had not been paid for, to the persons who supplied us with them; and also returning what had been borrowed of different friends for our convenience; what remained was taken possession of next morning, by a man to whom my unfortunate husband had given a bond for money advanced on the most exorbitant terms, to support his extravagance. Thus I am left destitute of every thing but my clothes, to endure the wretched effects of his imprudence, with a constitution weakened by the sufferings and privations, I underwent during my eventful journey." (p. 211)

I also enjoyed her Church-of-England scorn for popery.
"The sacred relics were next displayed, amongst which are, an eye of St Thomas the apostle, the shoulder blade of I forget what saint, and a small phial of the Virgin Mary's milk; at the sight of these absurdities I silently blessed God, that my religious instruction had not been blended with such cunningly devised fables." (p. 37)
"The nuns were very chatty, and like most ignorant persons, exceedingly curious, asking a hundred ridiculous questions. How very differently do human beings pass the time allotted to them in this probationary existence! Surely, to consume it in supine indolence or 'vain repetitions' can never render us more acceptable to Him, who is the fountain of light and knowledge." (p. 265)

[Itzel · Rating 3 out of 5]

I am led to believe that all travel before the invention of the plane, the train and cars was perilous and unadvisable. Given this conception, I am also led to believe that any 18th century traveler was braver than any marine.

[Leo W. · Rating 4 out of 5]

Fascinating.

[Robert · Rating 3 out of 5]

Very strange to read these real letters written by a woman in 1779 as she travels around the world in order to start a business with her husband. To think she was writing her letters home at the same time Jane Austen was writing about Darcy. A slight difference in tone though as Fry seems to be horrendously unlucky, facing war, territorial disputes, brigands who relieved her of all her belongings and imprisonment. Then she got to India and her fella ran off with another woman. She never seems to get too upset though. Note of caution, her writing style can be impenetrably archaic at points but interesting nonetheless.

[Vicki Winslow · Rating 4 out of 5]

Eliza Fay is quite a lady -- determined, practical, and interesting. I enjoyed her adventures immensely.