Like Another Helen
By
SYDNEY C. GRIER
AUTHOR OF “PEACE WITH HONOUR,”
“THE WARDEN OF THE MARCHES,”
“IN FURTHEST IND,” Etc.
(_Second in the Indian Historical Series._)
BOSTON
L. C. PAGE & COMPANY
_MDCCCCII_
[image: img_000.jpg (map)]
DEDICATION.
TO
#Captain Lionel J. Trotter#
IN GRATEFUL REMEMBRANCE
OF LONG-CONTINUED ENCOURAGEMENT
AND HELP
EPIGRAPH.
“And, like another Helen, fired another Troy”
CONTENTS.
I. THE REFLECTIONS OF A YOUNG LADY ON GOING OUT INTO THE WORLD
(From Miss Sylvia Freyne to Miss Amelia Turnor.)
II. IN WHICH IS SET FORTH THE INCONSTANCY OF MAN
(From the same to the same.)
III. IN WHICH MISS FREYNE ENTERS CALCUTTA, BUT NOT IN TRIUMPH
(From the same to the same.)
IV. SHOWING HOW MISS FREYNE BECOMES ACQUAINTED WITH HER SURROUNDINGS
(From the same to the same.)
V. IN WHICH DESPATCHES FROM ADMIRAL WATSON REACH CALCUTTA
(From the same to the same.)
VI. SHOWING HOW CALCUTTA FOUND FOOD FOR TALK
(From the same to the same.)
VII. WHICH TREATS OF TREASONS, STRATAGEMS, AND SPOILS
(From the same to the same.)
VIII. IN WHICH MR FREYNE’S PATIENCE COMES TO AN END
(From the same to the same.)
IX. TREATING OF LOVERS AND FRIENDS
(From the same to the same.)
X. IN WHICH THE FLOOD BEGINS TO RISE
(From the same to the same.)
XI. SHOWING HOW THE FLOOD CAME
(From the same to the same.)
XII. PRESENTING ONE OF THE WORLD’S TRAGEDIES
(From the same to the same.)
XIII. CONTAINING THE EPILOGUE TO THE TRAGEDY
(1. From Robert Fisherton, Esq., to the Rev. Dr Fisherton.
2. From Mrs Hurstwood to Colvin Fraser, Esq.
3. Three Letters from Colvin Fraser, Esq., to Mrs Hurstwood.)
XIV. TELLS OF A VOYAGE ACCOMPLISHED FROM SCYLLA TO CHARYBDIS
(From Miss Sylvia Freyne to Miss Amelia Turnor.)
XV. WHICH RECOUNTS THE TRIALS OF A DEVOUT LOVER
(Letters from Colvin Fraser, Esq., to Mrs Hurstwood.)
XVI. CONTAINING THE MEMOIRS OF A CAPTIVE
(From Miss Sylvia Freyne to Miss Amelia Turnor.)
XVII. IN WHICH GREEK JOINS GREEK
(From Colvin Fraser, Esq., to Mrs Hurstwood.)
XVIII. PROVING THAT THE DAYS OF MIRACLES ARE PAST
(From Miss Sylvia Freyne to Miss Amelia Turnor.)
XIX. IN WHICH A KNOT IS TIED
(1. From Colvin Fraser, Esq., to Mrs Hurstwood.
2. From the Rev. Dr Dacre to Mrs Hurstwood.
3. From the Rev. Dr Dacre to Saml. Johnson, Esq., M.A.
4. The Exacting Lovers. A Pastoral.)
XX. WHICH DESCRIBES A STRATEGIC RETREAT
(From Mrs Fraser to Miss Amelia Turnor.)
XXI. SHOWING HOW CALCUTTA WAS AVENGED
(From the same to the same.)
APPENDICES.
A.--ON THE SPELLING OF WORDS AND NAMES
B.--THE FAMILY OF ALIVARDI KHAN
C.--AUTHORITIES FOLLOWED IN THE TEXT
D.--THE HISTORICAL PERSONAGES INTRODUCED
E.--THE TOPOGRAPHY OF CALCUTTA
F.--SOME POINTS IN CONNECTION WITH THE FALL OF CALCUTTA
FOOTNOTES
LIKE ANOTHER HELEN.
(_The following letters are all, unless it is otherwise stated,
written by Miss Sylvia Freyne to Miss Amelia Turnor._)
CHAPTER I.
THE REFLECTIONS OF A YOUNG LADY ON GOING OUT INTO THE WORLD.
Royal Oak Inn, Deal, _Nov. ye_ 26_th_, 1754.
The hour so long dreaded is at length almost arrived, my Amelia, and
your Sylvia weeps to remember that this is her last night on British
soil. To-morrow, in the company of strangers, she leaves the only home
she has ever known, her native land and all its dear inhabitants--and
who is the best beloved of them, her sweet girl knows well--for an
unfamiliar region, parents hitherto unseen, and a new manner of life.
Ill would it become her to consecrate these last precious moments to
anything but the duties of friendship, and in fulfilment of the
promise that her latest thoughts on quitting England should be her
dearest friend’s, she takes the opportunity to begin this letter. It
will reach you, as she understands, from about the neighbourhood of
the Isle of Wight, since she expects to finish it on board the Orford,
in time to entrust its posting to the pilot who steers the ship down
the Channel.
But how, you will ask, has your friend contrived to learn so soon
these particulars of her journey? The answer to that question, my
Amelia, belongs to the history of the day’s travelling, of which you
saw only the heartrending commencement. Sure no young creature ever
left Holly-tree House with a heart so heavy as mine! When I had kissed
the hands of our venerable instructresses, and had received Mrs
Eustacia’s warning against neglecting the polite accomplishments, in
the practice of which (she was good enough to say) I had gained so
considerable a proficiency, and Mrs Abigail had begged of me not to
read romances and to beware of listening to the flatteries of men, the
worst was still to come. Was it not enough to encounter the tearful
farewells of all the dear Misses, that I must experience the crowning
grief of beholding my Amelia fallen into a fit,[1.01] and carried
away by Mrs Abigail and the governess, thus depriving me of the last
fond glance I had anticipated? Oh, my dearest Miss Turnor, when the
good Rector stopped me on the footpath as I was hurrying to hide my
tears in the chaise, and bade God bless me, and wished me an obliging
spouse and a great fortune (hateful word!), I was hard put to it not
to burst out sobbing in his face. Once seated in the chaise, however,
the polite concern and surprised countenances of Mrs Hamlin and her
niece assisted me to restrain my tears, and we drove off in the
genteelest style imaginable, with Miss Hamlin’s brother, the
lieutenant of dragoons, riding beside the chaise.
As soon as she saw me a little more composed, Miss Hamlin began to
rally me on the grief I displayed to quit my school, and charged me
with leaving a dear friend behind me there. “And I’m certain,” says
she, “that I have discovered this friend. Pray, miss, wasn’t it the
handsome young lady in the blue lustring nightgown[1.02] who was so
overcome by her feelings that she fainted away? Sure you must have
observed her, brother?”
“That I did,” says Mr Hamlin; “and a monstrous fine girl she was,
too.”
More to this effect was said, and my Amelia will guess how these
compliments to my friend warmed my heart, and placed me on the best of
terms with Mr and Miss Hamlin, while their aunt, who seems a very
agreeable, good sort of a woman, did her best to set your timid Sylvia
at her ease. As often as the thoughts natural to my situation
threatened to overcome my composure, the ladies were ready to divert
my mind to some fresh topic, the elder with infinite good humour, and
her niece with the greatest archness in the world. My Amelia must not
imagine herself in the smallest degree forgot when I tell her that I
am persuaded I shall find Miss Hamlin a vastly agreeable companion, in
spite of the difference between her constitution and mine. At midday
we abated our journey at an inn, where we found the advantage of Mr
Hamlin’s company, since every one was agog to serve him. No sooner had
he entered the place in his laced scarlet coat, with the King’s
ribbon[1.03] in his hat, than there was all manner of rushing hither
and thither, and it was, “What does your honour please to desire?” and
“What will the noble Captain[1.04] take?” on every side.
Miss Hamlin rallied her brother very pleasantly on the matter during
the meal, and I was thankful that she was thus engaged, since I could
scarce eat a morsel. On returning to the post-chaise, Mrs Hamlin fell
asleep, and her niece confided to me in whispers many points of
extraordinary interest touching the clothes she is taking out to
Bengal with her--confidences which I did my best to return, although I
can’t hope to rival them. We reached Deal about four in the afternoon,
and Mrs Hamlin ordered tea immediately in the private parlour she had
engaged beforehand, whither we repaired. Presently up comes Mr Hamlin,
who had been seeing our trunks brought in, and acquainted his aunt
that there were lodging in the inn two young gentlemen of whom he had
some slight knowledge, and who were to be our fellow-passengers to
India on board the Orford, adding that if we could come to an
agreement with them to share a boat on the morrow, we might reach our
vessel at far less cost.
“Well thought of!” cries Mrs Hamlin. “Pray, Henry, request the
gentlemen to step upstairs and drink a dish of tea with us here.”
“With all my heart, madam,” says the Captain, and down he goes,
returning quickly with the two gentlemen, who differed considerably
from each other in appearance. The first, whom Mr Hamlin presented to
his aunt as Lieutenant Colvin Fraser, of his Majesty’s ship Tyger, was
tall and very well made, but a degree too thin for his height, his
complexion ruddy, his eyes grey, his hair, which was his own, of a
reddish colour. He wore the King’s ribbon, but a plain fustian suit of
a dark blue. The other gentleman, who was of a smaller and slighter
figure and a dark complexion, and with whom Mr Hamlin had a much
better acquaintance than with Lieutenant Fraser, was introduced as Mr
Ensign Ranger, of the Hon. Company’s Bengall European Regiment. The
gentlemen were presented to us severally, and both entered into
conversation in a very genteel manner, modest without being bashful,
although it seemed to me that Mr Ranger was the more assured, and
Lieutenant Fraser the more cautious.
“Come, gentlemen,” says Mrs Hamlin at last, “since we are to be
fellow-travellers for so long, let us begin, like the personages in
the romances, by telling each other our histories. As for myself, you
will have guessed that I am sailing to rejoin my spouse, who was until
lately head of the Company’s house at Ballisore, and that during the
journey I have the charge of Miss Freyne, whose papa is a member of
Council at Calcutta, as well as of my niece, who will reside with her
uncle and me when we reach Bengall.”
“And questionless you’ll also have guessed that both ladies are
sailing to seek their fortunes--with spouses attached to ’em,” says Mr
Hamlin.
“Oh, fie, brother!” cries Miss Hamlin. “See how Miss Freyne is out of
countenance for your freedom. Pray, miss, don’t heed the Captain. He
has no delicacy of mind.”
“And pray, miss, why are you going, if not in the hope of getting
married?” demanded Mr Hamlin. “How silly must these gentlemen think it
in you to be so nice in denying what’s the truth!”
Before Miss Hamlin could reply, Lieutenant Fraser took up the dispute
with great warmth, saying that for his part, not only would he not
venture to suggest to a lady the terms she should employ in speaking,
but he thought that man a sad coxcomb who would presume to do so, more
especially in a matter of such delicacy as had just been touched upon.
Mr Hamlin, though astounded by this outburst, was about to reply
warmly, when his aunt interfered, reproved both disputants for the
heat they were displaying, and desired them to return to the topic on
which she had requested information.
“You, Lieutenant Fraser,” she said, “shall be the first to recount to
us your history. How is it, pray, that we find a King’s officer taking
passage in an Indiaman?”
“Indeed, madam,” says he, fetching a heavy sigh, “my situation can’t
appear stranger to you than it did irksome to myself until a few
minutes ago. Sure you see before you the victim of a series of the
cruellest misfortunes that ever baulked a man of his most reasonable
desires. You’ll be already aware, questionless, that in February the
King despatched Admiral Watson to the East Indies with the Kent and
Salisbury and others of his Majesty’s ships, in the anticipation that
when war next breaks out with France, much will hang upon the
situation in the Decan, where our nation and the French have been so
continually at strife of late years. You will be at no loss to imagine
that the recent exploits and successes of Colonel Clive have stirred
up such a spirit of emulation in both the sea and land services that
the Admiral might have had his pick of the whole nation either as
officers or volunteers on board of his ships, but it so happened that
having been fortunate enough to gain his approbation when serving with
him before (for I was bred up under him from my earliest youth at
sea), I had his promise to take me with him if he could in any way
compass it. But now, madam, came in the first of the distressing
accidents I have mentioned. Not only did I find my applications
continually set aside in favour of gentlemen who possessed greater
interest than I could boast, but Mr Watson’s own desires were thwarted
with a like persistence. And all this was in spite of the many signal
services rendered by my father to the Government in the rising of the
Highlands nine years back, so true is the saying that good offices are
seldom remembered unless their repetition is looked for.”
“Pray, sir,” cries the Captain, “stick to your tale, and don’t weary
the ladies with pieces of musty wisdom that you’ve picked up from some
long-winded divine.”
“Pray, nephew Henry,” says Mrs Hamlin, seeing that Lieutenant Fraser,
although out of countenance by reason of the interruption, was looking
very fierce; “don’t break into the gentleman’s history, which we all
love to hear him tell in his own style. Sure you ought to know that
though you fine London sparks may make a boast of your ignorance,
every Scottish gentleman prides himself on possessing a store of
polite learning and reflections, and if Mr Fraser is good enough to
display his for our entertainment, he is to be commended, and not
blamed. Pray, sir, continue.”
“I’ll do my best not to be tedious, madam,” says the Lieutenant, with
a bow. “You may conceive then my mortification when the squadron set
sail without me, although I was a little comforted by the Admiral’s
assuring me that he had left my case in the hands of a friend of his
that had interest at the India House, and would see that my name was
brought before the Admiralty if there were any question of sending out
reinforcements to him. If my distress had been extreme at the rude
blasting of my hopes, it was equalled by my delight when in the month
of May I received my commission as fourth lieutenant of the Tyger. You
may not, madam, have heard at the time that Admiral Watson met with
such severe weather in the Channel that he was forced to send back
part of his fleet disabled from Kingsale, where he had put in for the
purpose of taking on board Colonel Adlercron’s regiment of foot[1.05]
for service in the Carnatic. On hearing of this disaster the
Government determined to fit out and despatch immediately the Tyger
and the Cumberland, which might take on board the remainder of the
soldiers, and endeavour to overtake Mr Watson, who had continued his
voyage without regarding the smallness of his force. No words can
paint my delight on receiving this news, but making the best of my way
to join my ship at Plymouth, I was so unfortunate as to spend the
night at an inn where a man lay sick of the small-pox. Although I did
not approach him, as you may well guess, it seems that the air of the
place must have carried the infection, for I was seized with the
malady the day before that on which the Tyger and her consort were to
sail. The disorder of my mind, on seeing my hopes again overthrown,
aggravated my sufferings to such a degree that I barely escaped with
my life, and only left the hospital after an extraordinary long bout
of sickness. As soon as I was fairly recovered, I made haste to open
my affairs to the Admiralty, who, compassionating my hard case, gave
me leave to proceed at my own costs to the East Indies, where, if I
find my post aboard the Tyger filled up, I must even offer my services
as a volunteer.”
“Unless your ill-fortune should pursue you so far as to prevent your
sailing with us to-morrow, sir,” says Mrs Hamlin.
“Sure, madam, in the company in which I now am no ill fortune can
prevail to touch me.”
“I protest, sir, you are too flattering. Pray, sir,” and Mrs Hamlin
looked towards the second gentleman, “tell us your history now.”
“Alas, madam!” says Mr Ranger, heaving a prodigious sigh, in
extravagant imitation of that with which his friend had commenced his
recital; “I have no tale to tell that will bring the moisture of
compassion to the eye of beauty, as that of Mr Fraser has been happy
enough to do. My sufferings are of too ordinary a nature to do more
than excite the tribute of a pitying glance. I can but say that I had
the honour to serve his Majesty in the regiment which your nephew, my
esteemed friend here, so justly adorns, and that the modest fortune I
inherited proved insufficient to support the dignity with which I
desired to invest my situation. I need not wound the tender hearts of
the young ladies by describing the disagreeable results of this
unfortunate disproportion; it is enough to remark that I was thankful
to accept the offer of my uncle, who is an India director, to make
interest to obtain for me a pair of colours in the Bengall Regiment.”
“Indeed, sir, you en’t in no way to be pitied,” says Mrs Hamlin, with
some coldness. “Are you aware how many worthy young gentlemen, each of
whom has spent several years as a private man in the Company’s forces,
carrying a musket and mounting guard in the Select Piquet,[1.06] will
be disobliged by this placing you over their heads?”
“No, indeed, madam,” said he; “and for the sake of my own peace of
mind, I’ll beg you won’t acquaint me of their exact number. I’ll
assure you that I have a very feeling heart, and to wound it would in
no way advantage these unfortunate gentlemen, while it would be
prodigiously disagreeable to me. To conclude my story, madam; I fell
in with Lieutenant Fraser in Leadenhall Street, and learning that we
were travelling by the same vessel, we agreed to post to Dover in
company, by which means I enjoy the happiness of being at your service
to-night.”
This whimsical reply, delivered with infinite good humour, to her
reproof, put Mrs Hamlin into some difficulty not to laugh, and turning
again to Mr Fraser, she enquired of him how soon our vessel was likely
to sail?
“I heard but an hour back, madam,” he answered, “that those on board
were much concerned to lose so much of this fair wind--as indeed I
would be, in their case--and that the passengers should all be in
their places by eleven o’clock to-morrow, when the captain, who is
posting from town, is looked for.”
“La!” says Miss Hamlin, with the most engaging vivacity, “what a pity
to waste time in this way! I’m all anxiety to be well on my way to
India.”
“Because you know nothing about it, child,” says her brother. “Ask my
aunt whether she finds a voyage as agreeable as you think. I’ll lay
you a guinea you’ll be in a fine pickle before you reach Bengall, with
no chance of getting at your ‘things,’ as you call ’em, to divert
yourself with.”
“Brother, you’re a sad bear,” said Miss Hamlin very gravely.
“Gentlemen, now that we have drank our tea, I have been waiting in
vain for one of you to suggest a promenade. Must I make the proposal
myself?”
“Pray permit me to wait on you out of doors, madam,” said both the
strange gentlemen in a breath.
“Well, indeed,” says Mrs Hamlin, “I think we shan’t do wrong in hiring
a boat to take us on board to-morrow, since our time is like to be so
short, and though it be dark already, the lights on the water afford a
vastly agreeable prospect if we take a short stroll. You’ll accompany
us, Miss Freyne?”
But I excused myself on the plea of fatigue, and sat down to begin
this letter, which diverted Miss Hamlin excessively when she came back
into the parlour in her capuchin[1.07] to look for her muff.
“I protest, miss, you’re quite an author!” she cried. “Sure you must
be emulating the practice of the divine Clarissa?”
“You’re right, miss,” said I. “Like Miss Harlowe, I am writing to the
best of friends.”
She went away laughing, and I employed myself all the time of their
absence in writing these pages, which would not be so many had I not
desired to fulfil my promise of making my Amelia acquainted with the
companions of our voyage. This shocking scribble that follows is wrote
in my chamber before going to rest, for I must tell you of some droll
things that Mrs Hamlin has been saying. She is, my dear, the oddest
kind of woman! Coming in with her niece about half-an-hour before
supper, leaving the gentlemen downstairs, she sat down upon the
settee, and requested me to spare her a moment. You may be sure I lost
no time in complying, more especially since I catched a very whimsical
glance from Miss Hamlin as I shook the sand over my paper.
“I don’t doubt but you was a good deal surprised, miss,” says Mrs
Hamlin, motioning me to take my place in the window-seat opposite her,
“by my admitting those two young gentlemen to our company?”
“Indeed, madam,” said I, “I never ventured----”
“You thought I was a good easy body, questionless, and no prude, and
you passed remarks upon my discretion in your mind, perhaps?” I had no
chance to answer, Amelia, for she went on without stopping: “Then I
would have you know, miss, that you was mistaken. My complaisant
behaviour is dictated altogether by policy, and I will go so far as to
open to you my mind in the matter, the more so since I am persuaded
you are a young woman of sense.”
“I shall hope to deserve your good opinion, madam.”
“As for my niece Hamlin,” continued the good lady, “she has been bred
up by her grandmamma, who was a toast in her youth, and even in her
genteel retirement has not forgot the manners of the great world, so
that she has, questionless, furnished her granddaughter with a whole
battery of defensive arts. You han’t enjoyed this advantage, miss, but
I don’t doubt the respectable gentlewomen who instructed you have
warned you against the ways of Men?”
“Indeed, madam, they have spoke to me of little else for some months
past, and their very last words----”
“Why, that’s very well,” says she, “for I must think better of you
than to imagine that after such sedulous care you, any more than my
Charlotte, could fall a prey to the wiles of the designing creatures.
Pray, miss, what do you think was my intention in presenting the
gentlemen to you two young women to-day?”
“Indeed, madam, I don’t know,” for what dark political meaning there
could be in so natural an act, I could not imagine.
“Why, then,” says Mrs Hamlin, “I desired to provide you both with
agreeable cavaliers for the voyage, without the fear of falling in
love on either side.”
“Sure, madam, you’re very kind,” Miss Hamlin puts in.
_Mrs Hamlin_. Don’t be pert, miss. I observed just now, Miss Freyne,
that you was put out of countenance by a foolish remark of my
nephew’s, which his sister very properly reproved. Such sensibility
does you honour, but I would have you learn to take such sayings in
good part, since, though it be true that a man of fine manners would
not allude to the fact so freely, ’tis yet undeniable that both you
and my niece are going to Bengall to be married, as my poor Henry
said.
_Sylvia_. Sure, madam, ’tis but the action of a woman of spirit to
protest against such a view, and endeavour to discredit it?
_Mrs H_. I see, miss, that, like other romancical young ladies, you
cherish the notion that you would prefer to lead a single life. I
don’t fancy you would remain long in that mind in Britain--since we
en’t Papists, and if I may say so to your face, you are reasonable
well-looking--but in India such a resolution could not hold for a
single day. When you have seen, as I have, the numerous crowds of
gentlemen in respectable, if not in affluent circumstances, that will
hasten to the _Gott_[1.08] to see the European ladies disembark, and
rush to hand you out of your _palanqueen_ and into church on Sunday,
you will perceive that no woman could be so cruel as to keep so many
worthy persons pining in suspense. I have known a young lady--and she
not a creature of any figure--who was married, within two hours of her
landing, to a gentleman she had never seen before.
_Sylvia_. I hope, madam, you don’t anticipate such a fate for me?
_Mrs H_. I don’t doubt, miss, but you’ll consider your punctilio
demands a longer time for choice. But if you’ll reflect for a moment,
you’ll see that there’s no forwardness, as you seem to imply, but
rather the truest kindness on the part of their parents and guardians,
in this sending out young ladies to find spouses. The Company’s
service is for life, and a gentleman can’t come home to seek a
suitable wife for himself. Imagine, then, his joy and gratitude when
an agreeable match presents itself, and the assiduous complaisance
with which he will behave to the lady who has done him the honour of
selecting him out of so many suitors! I hope, miss, that you’ll do
credit to your bringing-up in the choice you make, and that the
gentleman’s fortune will be worthy of the advantages you bring him.
_Sylvia_ (_smiling_). I have studied my ‘Spectator,’ dear madam, too
closely to be ignorant that an honest life and an obliging temper are
more to be regarded in the marriage state than a great fortune.
_Mrs H_. The ‘Spectator,’ miss? Sure he’s the person that tells a tale
of some old Roman,[1.09] who said he had rather marry his daughter to
a man without an estate than to a great estate without a man. The good
gentleman was certainly mad. Such a marriage as that would be the
happiest that could befall most young women. But, indeed, miss, I
would have you look at the whole matter from a judicious standpoint.
There’s some prudes that affect horror when they hear of a young
lady’s doing well for herself, not considering that she has but placed
out her capital, which is herself, to the best advantage. Think of
your good papa. He has sunk a great sum of money in sending you home
to be brought up, and he’ll look for a handsome return on his
investment. You’ll have a tolerable fortune--unless, indeed, it be
true, as I heard said on my voyage home, that your papa has made such
large settlements on the present Mrs Freyne as leaves but little for
you. She was a Quinion--one of the Quinions of Madrass, and they have
a sharp eye in money matters, and would get all they could from Mr
Freyne.
_Sylvia_. Oh, pray, madam, don’t use these terms of my papa. Sure he
has every right to please himself in the disposition of his own
property.
_Mrs H_. Very true, miss, but all the same it’s fortunate for you that
gentlemen in India ask less in the way of fortune with their wives
than in England. I can but hope that you’ll marry a man of wealth
sufficient to give Mr Freyne a solid return upon his expenditure. And
that brings me to the question on which I had purposed to speak to
you. You may have heard a silly jest to the effect that young ladies
sent out to India by their parents to marry great fortunes commonly
disappoint their anticipations by entering into engagements of
marriage with such young cadets and writers as may have pleased their
fancy on the voyage out.
_Sylvia_. I had not heard it, madam.
_Mrs H_. You will, questionless, hear it often in the future. Well,
miss, this unfortunate state of affairs is due, in my mind, to the
injudicious severity of the ladies who have the charge of these young
women. By forbidding them to converse with, or even to glance at, any
of the gentlemen about them, they force them to appear either shy or
uncivil, while by engaging the authority of the captain on their side
they deliver a direct challenge to the young gentlemen to evade their
prohibitions, so that it becomes the dearest wish of the young people
to make each other’s acquaintance, and this they’ll succeed in doing
by foul means, if not by fair. Ah! I could tell you of some sad
unhappy marriages that have come about in this way, and also of many
cases in which the young lady has seen her folly, and wedded the
person selected for her by her guardians, after infinite trouble and
foolish behaviour on the part of the suitor she has abandoned! Now I
design to place no restriction upon you and my Charlotte, Miss Freyne.
I have treated you as reasonable creatures, and I look to you to
requite my kindness, mixing with these gentlemen, and any others I may
introduce to your notice while on board, as young women of sense
should do, and giving them no cause for presumption, nor others for
talk. I leave the matter with your own consciences, requesting you to
consider the pains taken with your bringing-up, and to remember that
you would be actually robbing your relatives if you married below the
rank they have a right to expect.
_Sylvia_. Pray, madam, would it be impossible for us to confine
ourselves chiefly to female society, while conversing with these
gentlemen so far as civility demands?
_Miss Hamlin_. La, miss! would you have an Indiaman a floating
nunnery?
_Mrs H_. Your suggestion, miss, is extremely proper, but ’twould be
impossible to carry it out on board ship. You’ll find it almost
necessary to have a gentleman at hand who will run your errands, and
wait upon you on deck when the weather is fresh. But I can rely upon
you to let the acquaintance go no further, and to preserve in your
carriage such a distance as may keep your cavalier on the humble
footing that becomes him.
It appeared to me, my Amelia, that there was scant tenderness shown
for the feelings of the gentlemen in this device, but indeed I am so
confused with all I have heard that I can scarce be sure my pity en’t
chiefly for myself. How humbling is it to a young creature’s pride (I
had almost said, how wounding to her delicacy), to find herself
regarded in the light of a bale of merchandise, to be knocked down to
the highest bidder! And why do our instructors recommend to our
perusal the mild counsels of the excellent Mr Addison, if the most
important action of our future life is to give them the lie in every
particular? But Mrs Abigail would say that I was passing judgment on
my elders; I will cease, therefore, and only hope that my papa may be
of a different spirit from Mrs Hamlin.
The gentlemen joined us at supper, and Lieutenant Hamlin demanded of
his sister to give him some music afterwards--a request that was very
heartily seconded by both the others--but on Mrs Hamlin’s declaring
that she was dog-tired, and would fain be early a-bed, the company
broke up. Miss Hamlin very good-naturedly waited upon me to my
chamber, and when she had set down the candlestick, I thought would
have taken her leave, but to my surprise she shut the door, saying--
“Pray, miss, what is your opinion of my aunt’s great piece of policy?”
“Sure I’m grateful to be treated as a reasonable creature, miss,” said
I.
“And for that,” says she, “you may thank my aunt’s love of ease. She
is desirous to pass her time agreeably in playing whisk[1.10] and
brag with her friends, reading romances, or slandering her
neighbours--not in looking after two young women that happen to be
placed in her charge.”
“Indeed, miss, you make vastly free with your aunt’s name.”
“And therefore,” Miss Hamlin went on without heeding me, “she throws
the burden on the young women themselves, and thinks she has done all
her duty when she has placed it on their consciences. Pray, miss, was
you born with a heart?”
“Sure I don’t understand you, miss,” said I, staggered, as they say,
by so sudden and particular[1.11] a question.
“Because I was not,” said this strange girl; “or if I were, it has
been bred out of me--without it be like the coquette’s heart at the
dissection of which your dear ‘Spectator’ says he attended. But you,
miss, if I don’t mistake, are burdened with this useless and improper
possession. Pray understand that by the time you reach Bengall it must
be gone, and replaced either by a purse of gold or a chest of toys and
laces, or else the determination to outshine your neighbours, if you
are ever to cut a figure in Calcutta. The voyage is your opportunity
of practising for its removal.”
“Indeed, miss----” said I, bewildered, but she interrupted me.
“I have pointed out to you your work for the next eight or nine
months, miss, and I shall hope to see you fashionably heartless when
we land in India. But for the present, which of the two gentlemen that
have been designated as our bond-slaves for the voyage will you attach
to your service?”
“Oh, pray, miss, oblige me by choosing first,” said I.
“Then I choose Mr Ranger,” said she, quickly.
“I’m quite content to take Mr Fraser,” said I, well pleased.
“That’s as I should have guessed. I have chose Mr Ranger because he is
the more entertaining to me, but if I were acting the part of a true
friend by you, miss, I should have taken the Lieutenant.”
“Indeed, miss, I’ll assure you he pleases me vastly the better of the
two.”
“So I foresaw. A witty blade like Mr Ranger would have no charms for
you, miss, but this Scottish gentleman, with his tags of philosophy
and his turn for relating his troubles in a moving style, is a
dangerous person to meet a young lady that possesses a heart and has
but just left her boarding-school.”
“I hope, miss, you wasn’t intending a sneer at my bringing-up?”
“Not for the world, though I will say that my grandmamma is a better
instructor for adventurers like you and me than the venerable ladies I
saw this morning. But tell me, miss, do you purpose to inform your
Fraser of the terms on which he is permitted the honour of your
acquaintance--that he is to run your errands and not fall in love with
you?”
“Pray, miss, do you look for me to suggest to the gentleman that I
expect him to do any such thing?”
“But you’ll allow that such a thing is at least possible? Come, miss,
prudence should lead you to anticipate calamities, you know. What is
to happen if Mr Fraser should have the presumption to lay his heart at
your feet, or even--an extraordinary wild supposition, I grant you--if
your heart should betray you, and you fall in love with him?”
My Amelia will guess I was so horridly confused by these remarks that
I was at a loss how to answer Miss Hamlin, but at last I got out
something to the effect that I hoped I should do my duty in any case.
“But will you break the poor fellow’s heart as well as your own,
miss?” persisted my tormentor.
“I trust, miss,” said I, “that there’ll be no question of such an
unhappy event. I give you free leave to warn me, and Mr Fraser also,
if you will, if you think either of us to be in danger.”
“I promise you I will,” says she; “and finely you’ll hate me when ’tis
done.”
With that she left me, and I sat up to write this. But here I must
cease, for my candle is burning low in its socket, and Miss Hamlin has
just tapped again at my door to ask me whether I desire to make my
last night in Britain memorable by setting the inn afire.
_Hon. Co.’s Ship Orford, off_ Hastings, _Nov. ye_ 28_th._
I am adding these few last lines in lead pencil to my great pacquet in
haste, since Mr Fraser assures me that once past Beachy Head we shall
find ourselves in rough water. I can’t at present call myself
indisposed, though I am not quite at my ease, as I ought to be, since
Mr Fraser says the wind is so light as to be almost a calm. The space
on board is very much confined, particularly since the decks are still
lumbered up with all kinds of packages, but I learn that these will
before long be stowed away below. Pray, my dear friend, pardon these
seaman’s phrases. My head is too confused to remember the correct
terms. You would smile to see how we are all lodged here, the
gentlemen in the great cabin, on shelves like those in a draper’s
shop, and only large enough to hold a small mattress, and we in
another apartment, similarly furnished. There are two ladies on board
besides ourselves, but neither of them young, and both married, and
about a dozen gentlemen. I had intended to write something of the day
and a half since we left Deal, but find that the end of my paper is
all but reached. You shall receive a long letter by the first
opportunity that offers of sending one. Adieu, my dearest, dearest
Emily.[1.12] Rest assured that you was ever in my thoughts from the
moment of our parting.