CHAPTER XXI.

SHOWING HOW CALCUTTA WAS AVENGED.

Cutwah, _June ye_ 23_rd._

Once more, my dear, I am left solitary, and as of old turn to my

Amelia for consolation. My dear Mr Fraser quitted me early yesterday

morning, and proceeded to Placis with Colonel Clive and the army, and

here in the fort at Cutwah there remains a meagre company, awaiting

with an incredible eagerness and anxiety every morsel of intelligence

that may reach them. Nor is this apprehension excessive in view of the

situation. We Britons, as my Amelia knows, are said to be too prone to

undervalue our enemy, and that this is so is questionless Colonel

Clive’s opinion, although he himself offers no example of the fault.

He has no fear, I heard him say two days ago, for a favourable result

of the approaching battle, if every man of his force do his duty and

his Indian allies keep their promises, but a single piece of

carelessness or treachery may prove the ruin, not only of the army,

but of the entire British cause in this region of the world. With

another commander this unflattering estimate of the future might be

expected to damp the spirits of the soldiers, but so great is their

confidence in Mr Clive that they are sensible of no resentment even

for his implied doubt of them, and are resolved to support him to the

utmost of their power. The Indian allies are less to be trusted, I

fear. Immediately after I closed my letter to you on Monday there

arrived from Muxadavad the messenger despatched by Mr Watts from

Culnah to Meer Jaffier, declaring that he had been received with

distinction by that nobleman in private and assured of his fidelity,

but that on the entrance of some intimates of the Nabob’s, Meer

Jaffier changed his tone immediately, while his son Meerham threatened

to have the messenger put to death for a spy, uttering the most

extravagant menaces against the English should they venture to advance

towards the city. This unaccountable behaviour, coupled with the

ambiguous epistles brought by Meer Jaffier’s own messengers, startled

Colonel Clive and induced him to waver in his design of advancing,

insomuch that on Tuesday he summoned a council of war (the first, so

Mr Fisherton tells me, that he has ever held) to determine whether to

go forward against the enemy at once, or to strengthen this fortress

of Cutwah and maintain ourselves here until the rains are over. To the

great scandal of all the officers, the Colonel, instead of taking the

opinion of the youngest gentleman first, and so through all the

members until his own turn came as president, began by giving his own

vote for delay, in which he was followed by the majority, although

Major Coote and a few others spoke stoutly on the other side, the

Major declaring with great warmth that he would rather abandon Cutwah

and retire at once to Calcutta than give the Nabob the triumph of

shutting up our army here. However, the council broke up, after doing

nothing but invite the Raja of Burraduan to join the army with any

reinforcements he could command, and the officers dispersed with the

most dissatisfied air imaginable. The Colonel, whose ordinary resolved

aspect was changed for a dejected and uncertain look, shunned the

company of the other gentlemen, and as I sat at my window in the tower

which has been assigned to us for an abode, I saw him wander away into

a grove of trees near. He must have spent over half an hour in

solitude, when up comes Mr Watts to me and demands to know whether I

had perceived which way the Colonel went. After directing him, I

ventured to hope that he was the bearer of good news.

“Why, yes, madam,” said he. “Here’s a _cossid_ just come in with a

message sent from Meer Jaffier by word of mouth, and containing very

satisfactory assurances. It seems he’s honest after all.”

“Pray Heaven you may get the Colonel to believe it, sir.”

“Indeed, madam, you can’t desire it more than I, since my credit hangs

on Meer Jaffier’s honesty. I know Mr Clive would have chose to advance

had he been acting alone, but our valiant Calcutta gentlemen, and the

excellent Quaker in especial, have worked hard to imbue him with their

own fears, so that he can’t resolve to risque a second destruction of

the factory. Yet he’s excessive uneasy to find himself hanging back

for the first time in his life, and I would lay a _lack_ of rupees

that he’s seeking some good argument that would justify him in going

forward. I hope to supply him with it.”

And Mr Watts departed to seek the Colonel, finding him, as we learned

afterwards, seated under a tree, and plunged in a gloomy meditation.

What arguments were used I don’t know, but presently, watching eagerly

from my window, I saw the two gentlemen returning in company, both

wearing a determined and confident air, and Colonel Clive’s eyes,

which are the keenest I have ever seen, full of the most unbending

resolution. Meeting Major Coote, the Colonel exchanged a few words

with him, and no long time after Mr Fraser came leaping up the stairs

to my room to tell me that the army was to commence its advance at

daybreak on the morrow.[21.01]

“And am I to ride, sir?” I asked him; “or will it be possible to

proceed by boat?”

Mr Fraser turned his face aside. “Why, my dearest life,” he said,

“considering this frightful weather and the danger from the enemy, I

fear----”

“Oh, dear sir, you would not leave me behind?” I cried. “Sure the

Colonel promised----”

“But my beloved girl won’t press that promise to an extreme when she

knows how much it would add to her Fraser’s anxiety? She’ll do him the

favour to believe that ’tis only his concern for her makes him entreat

her to remain here under good Dr Dacre’s care, and I think she’ll

oblige him by consenting to stay behind.”

The tears were in my eyes. “Dear sir, how could I bring myself to

refuse a request which you are good enough to express in such a

charming style?”

“Nay, dearest madam, your complaisance in gratifying me would make me

ashamed to ask a favour if I did not know that it caused you a

pleasure to grant it,” said Mr Fraser, but perceiving that what he had

said might be taken in two different styles, he came and embraced me

kindly, begging me with the utmost earnestness to remain behind at

Cutwah, where the sick were to be left under a small guard, and not to

insist upon exposing myself in the neighbourhood of the battle. I

could not refuse to oblige him, having once consented, and that’s the

reason, Amelia, why I am writing to you from my tower in the fortress,

instead of accompanying my spouse to the field.

At sunrise yesterday the army began crossing the river, but the

transit was not accomplished until four in the afternoon. By this time

Colonel Clive had received another reassuring letter from Meer

Jaffier, stating that the Nabob was encamped with his army at a

village called Muncarra, some little way to the north of Placis, and

suggesting that the Colonel should march thither to attack him. The

march was at once commenced, the boats carrying the camp equipage

being towed against the stream, and the troops making their way along

the bank, although, thanks to the inundation caused by the heavy rain,

they were forced to plod through water up to their waists. The rain

fell continuously almost the whole of the day, driving me from my

station at the top of my tower, whence I had hoped to view a great

part of the march, since it commands a vast extent of country, and I

passed the weary hours in unravelling lint and sewing bandages for the

surgeon here, although the damp weather has made my needles and

scissors almost useless with rust. The need I felt of occupying my

mind made me work so prodigiously hard that when I asked the doctor

this morning whether he had anything more for me to do, he laughed,

saying that he had already sufficient dressings to bandage the whole

army from head to foot, and thus rejected, I fell back naturally into

my old habit of making my Amelia the depositary of my anxieties.

Indeed, my dear, I don’t know what can be better, in such a situation

as mine, than a faithful friend like yourself, unless it be the

practice I have always pursued of writing to her constantly.

But my dear girl must not imagine that I have been left to pine,

uncheered by any scrap of news, since daybreak yesterday. My dear Mr

Fraser was so good as to despatch me a billet this morning, wrote with

infinite difficulty in the most unpropitious circumstances. Reassuring

my anxious mind by declaring that he has suffered no inconvenience

from the discomforts of the march, he says that a halt was called soon

after midnight in a grove of mango-trees close to the Nabob’s seat of

Placis, and that in this grove the troops encamped in the greatest

comfort imaginable. (I fear this is only said to console me, Amelia,

for you must remember the rain and the floods.) The sound of drums and

other barbaric instruments was clearly to be heard from the enemy’s

camp a mile distant (for on hearing of the Colonel’s advance from

Cutwah, Surajah Dowlah had at once quitted Muncarra and marched to

confront him), but this served rather to soothe than to disturb the

grateful slumbers of our wearied army.

At daybreak the Nabob’s army moved out from its entrenchments and

disposed itself in the form of a crescent, as though designing to

enclose our troops altogether, with the aid of the river, while Meer

Sinzaun (oh, my dear, think what it is to me to hear that dreadful

name again!) with four guns and his forty vagabond Frenchmen took post

on the lofty banks of earth surrounding a tank that commanded the

mango-grove. In order to reply to their fire, Colonel Clive posted two

hovitzes[21.02] and two field-pieces at some brick-kilns in advance

of the grove, and lest the enemy should imagine him alarmed by their

approach, brought his army out of its shelter, and drew it up in order

of battle, his left resting on the Nabob’s hunting-lodge. The centre

of the line was occupied by the European troops in four divisions,

next came three field-pieces on either flank, Mr Fraser being in

charge of one of those on the right, and at each extremity of the line

a body of Seapoys. The battle began by the Frenchmen’s discharging one

of their cannons, which did some damage, and our artillery replying,

the action became general, although we were at a huge disadvantage

owing to the lightness of our guns. Having endured a heavy cannonade

for about half an hour, and finding his losses considerable, the

Colonel retired his troops again into the grove, leaving a small

detachment at the brick-kilns and another at Placis House, and ’twas

at this moment of disappointment and mortification that Mr Fraser

wrote his letter to me. Having with the rest of the officers of the

train besieged the Colonel in vain for permission to carry all the

guns forward to the advanced posts, and finding himself compelled to

crouch down among the troops behind a bank to avoid the enemy’s fire,

my spouse sought to mitigate his impatience by scribbling in pencil

the history of the morning, which he had leave to despatch about

half-past nine by a messenger that Mr Watts was sending back to

Cutwah. The brilliancy of the spectacle presented by the enemy seems

to have affected Mr Fraser a little disagreeably when compared with

the travel-stained and wretched aspect of our own men, for he remarks

somewhat bitterly on the magnificent display of elephants all covered

with scarlet cloth and embroidery, of horsemen with drawn swords

glistering in the sun, of heavy cannons drawn by vast trains of oxen,

and of countless standards waving in the breeze--all this show being

employed by Surajah Dowlah to conceal the badness of his cause. The

dear gentleman closed the letter in somewhat better spirits, however,

for our retreat having animated the enemy to an extreme degree of

vivacity, they were advancing their guns with a great air of boldness,

and Colonel Clive had just given orders for holes to be made in the

banks of earth surrounding the grove, through which our field-pieces

might be fired.

There, Amelia! ’Tis now two in the afternoon, and this pencilled

chitt, which reached me about an hour back, contains the latest

intelligence we possess. All the morning I have spent at the top of

the tower, with every man of our sick garrison that was strong enough

to climb so high, watching for messengers, and listening to the

distant sound of cannon brought to us on the wind. At noon the rain

began again, and drove me indoors and to my writing, and so far as we

can discern, forced the cannonade almost entirely to cease. I had no

notion that a battle took so long to fight, had you, Amelia? I have

wrote this letter with all the minuteness possible, for the sake of

filling up the time; how, I wonder, shall I spend the weary hours

still before me, until this battle, which is to decide the fate of

Bengall, if not of India (not to speak of your poor girl and her

beloved Fraser) be ended? Happily the rain is almost ceased again, and

Dr Dacre, who has established himself as a vigilant guardian over me,

gives me hope of being allowed once more on my watch-tower.

_Half-past six o’clock._

Joy, Amelia! we are victorious. Colonel Clive has justified the

confidence of his troops rather than his own misgivings, and Calcutta

is avenged upon the cruel barbarian who destroyed her a year ago. A

breathless messenger, mounted upon a horse that he had ridden almost

to death, arrived a few minutes back and brought us the news, although

his errand was to demand the despatch of certain stores immediately to

the surgeons accompanying the army. It appears that the cannonade

begun by our guns in the morning after Mr Fraser closed his letter to

me, was successful in keeping off the enemy, and that Meer

Modin,[21.03] one of the Nabob’s generals, and the only one among ’em

that was truly faithful to him, was slain. The rain that commenced

about noon spoiled the enemy’s powder, while ours was kept under

shelter and dry, and the semicircle of Moorish troops was observed to

be retiring within the entrenchments where they had passed the night.

Even before this, however, Surajah Dowlah, panic-stricken by his fears

and by the death of Meer Modin, had mounted a swift camel, and

forsaking his army, fled to Muxadavad. It had been agreed between

Colonel Clive and his officers that no advance against the Nabob’s

camp should be made until night; but seeing the Frenchmen isolated at

their tank, Major Kilpatrick could not resist pushing forward to

dislodge them, without any orders from the Colonel, who was snatching

a brief repose in the hunting-lodge. On being informed of the

movement, Colonel Clive hastened out in much displeasure, and reproved

the officer smartly for his independent action; but on receiving an

apology from him, sent him back to the grove to fetch up the rest of

the troops, and placed himself at the head of the detachment, with the

determination to bring matters at once to an issue, and not encourage

the enemy by a second retreat. Seeing the resolution with which the

English advanced, Sinzaun withdrew his force from the tank, and

planted his cannon in a redoubt at the corner of the Nabob’s

entrenchment, in readiness for the final assault.

All this time, says the messenger, our commander’s spirits had been

perturbed by the perplexing behaviour of a portion of the enemy’s

troops, which, being under the orders of Meer Jaffier and Yar Cawn

Latty, should, in accordance with the engagements entered into by

those chiefs, have changed sides during the battle, a manœuvre for

which the amplest opportunity was offered by their position in that

part of the half-circle nearest our posts and furthest from the

Nabob’s entrenchments. Far from taking this step, however, Meer

Jaffier, whether moved by timidity or by the affecting entreaties

addressed to him by the despairing Surajah Dowlah, did not even

embrace the chance afforded him by the retreat of the rest of the army

to separate himself from it, but advanced his troops with such a

menacing air against our position in the grove that if his designs

were amicable no one could have credited it, and a force was detached

to hold him in check. Meanwhile Colonel Clive, having reached the tank

abandoned by Sinzaun, planted his guns on its banks, and began a brisk

cannonade on the entrenchment, following this up by an advance to a

second tank and a piece of rising ground nearer still. The fire was

replied to by Sinzaun’s field-pieces and a strong force of

matchlockmen, the cavalry also offering several times to charge, but

being drove back in disorder by our guns. At last the Colonel,

perceiving that Meer Jaffier’s troops were moving off the field

without attempting to support those in the entrenchments, recognised

that he was secure from an attack in the rear, and prepared for the

concluding effort. A strong detachment was sent forward from either

flank to attack Sinzaun’s redoubt and a hillock near it, the main body

following more slowly as a support. The hillock was gained without a

shot fired, and the redoubt abandoned by Sinzaun with only a little

fighting, our forces entering it at five o’clock precisely. The exact

issue of these last movements our informant was unable to describe to

us, since he had been despatched by the surgeons to bring up the

additional stores before the final attack was made, and only beheld it

from a distance, checking his horse for a moment that he might see its

success, and bring the news of the victory to us at Cutwah. Nor was he

able, again, to furnish us particulars of the safety of any special

person, save that he had seen Mr Fraser working his gun unhurt when he

quitted the tank, although there were more killed and wounded in that

situation than during all the rest of the day. It was commonly

reported, said the man, that Colonel Clive would press on with his

troops immediately the battle was concluded to the village of

Doudpaur,[21.04] where he had promised to meet Meer Jaffier, so that

I must resign myself, I suppose, to a further separation from my dear

Mr Fraser; but I can support that with more equanimity, since I am

tolerably assured of his safety.

Cutwah, _June ye_ 24_th._

Alas, my Amelia! I began to rejoice, or at least to feel satisfied,

too soon. Having finished writing to my dear girl, I descended to the

lowest room of the tower, intending to join Dr Dacre at supper, but

even as I entered the apartment the good divine stood forward as

though to turn me back, and I saw that he was talking with a man in

the dress of a common soldier. I could not doubt what was the matter.

“You’re come to tell me Mr Fraser is hurt?” I said to the soldier.

“Why, no, madam,” said he, and it seemed to me that I had heard his

voice before at some very frightful moment of my life. “I was bid to

bring you his honour’s loving duty, and to tell you as how there

wasn’t truly nothing wrong with him.”

I turned to Dr Dacre. “Oh pray, dear sir, don’t torment me. What is

happened?”

“Indeed, madam, there’s so little happened that I had hoped to keep it

from you until morning. Our good Mr Fraser has received a bullet

through the thigh, but the bone en’t injured, and save for the loss of

blood he’ll suffer little inconvenience.”

“But I must go to him, sir. You’ll help me to start immediately?”

“What, madam?” It was the surgeon left in charge of the sick here who

came in behind me. “Go to your spouse to-night? and I had believed you

a woman of sense! Pray what do you think you could do for him? Nothing

but vex his mind and tease his doctors, I’ll assure you. He’ll come

down in the boats to-morrow, and if I find you are to be trusted I’ll

let you have him to nurse.”

“I’ll assure you, sir, whatever you may find, you won’t keep me from

Mr Fraser’s side!” I cried, dashing away my tears.

“Pray, madam, look at me,” says the surgeon, gruffly. “Have I the air

of being a man of my word, or not? ’Twill hang upon your behaviour

whether I suffer you to approach your spouse. Why, you’re shedding

tears, madam! Was you purposing to weep over Mr Fraser? He don’t want

to be wept over, but to be kept quiet and cheerful, and that signifies

that you’ll take a good rest to-night, and eat your meals in a proper

style, for if you don’t, I’ll have your good man brought into hospital

and you shan’t come near him. Remember, I must have your word for it

in the morning that my prescription has been followed.”

The surgeon went out, leaving me speechless by reason of his coarse

and unfeeling language, and Dr Dacre, perceiving my agitation, said

with great gentleness--

“Come, madam, our friend’s counsel is sound enough, if rough. If

you’ll take your supper, this honest fellow here will join us, and

tell us something of the manner in which Mr Fraser met his wound.”

“Aye, madam,” said the soldier, seeing me look eagerly at him, “I was

by his honour’s side all day at his six-pounder, first in the grove

and then at the tank, and when he got leave to join the storming party

I followed him again. We was climbing over the front of the redoubt

before the Frenchies scuttled out at the back, and one on ’em, an

ugly, black-looking fellow, stood his ground and called out something

in French to his honour, who sprang forward in a fury to shoot him,

but as he fired, a musket-ball passed through his leg, and his pistol

went off as he fell, without doing any harm to the Mounseer. The

fellow laughed, and turned to walk off, as cool as you please, but Mr

Fraser catched hold of me (I was run to lift him up, as you may guess,

madam) and cried out, ‘Kill him, Jones! kill the villain that dares to

slander my wife. ’Tis Sinzaun himself, the renegado!’ There was a man

of Adlercron’s fell dead just beside me, and I catched up his piece

and charged it, and fired twice at the villain, but missed him both

times. His honour, seeing me stamp with rage, guessed how ’twas, and

presently, ‘Take this, Jones,’ says he. ‘Questionless the wretch bears

a charmed life.’ ’Twas a silver button cut from his coat that he held

out to me, and I charged the piece with it instead of a bullet--for

you know, madam, as how a silver bullet is good against all sorts of

wicked charms. Sure enough it brought him down, and I cried out to his

honour that he was done for. ‘Well done!’ says he, and faints away,

and I carried him back to the doctors. But when I went to look for the

villain’s body, I found as how the other Mounseers had carried it off,

so as I can’t be certain he was dead, but I do believe it, madam.”

“I know you now,” I cried. “Sure you’re Captain Colquhoun’s sergeant!”

“Yes, madam, and proud to do a service to the Captain’s cousin and his

lady.”

“Can I say better of you than that you’re worthy of your Captain,

Sergeant Jones? Though you don’t mention it, I can’t doubt but you

saved Mr Fraser’s life by carrying him so promptly to the surgeons.”

“Come, my dear madam,” says Dr Dacre; “instead of exchanging

compliments with this worthy man, why not give him some supper and

join him in the meal? That will refresh him and sustain you.”

To please the good divine I consented to sit down to the table, but

you’ll guess that I could scarce swallow a morsel, although the

sergeant made an excellent supper, offering profuse apologies for what

he fancied his unfeeling behaviour, which indeed I could well pardon,

since after fighting all day he had obtained leave to ride fifteen

miles to apprise me of my dear Mr Fraser’s situation. As soon as the

meal was over I excused myself, and returning to my own chamber, did

my best, after offering for my husband’s recovery the most earnest

supplications that gratitude and affection could suggest, to put in

practice the second part of the surgeon’s prescription. But a person

of my Amelia’s sensibility won’t be surprised to hear that my sleep

was perpetually broken with fancied alarms, and that I was haunted

with the image of Mr Fraser lying prostrate and bathed in blood, and

dying at a distance from me.

The morning brought with it something more of cheerfulness, and having

satisfied the surgeon of my earnest endeavours to obey his commands,

he was so obliging as to consent to “turn my spouse over to me” (that

was his odd phrase) for nursing, and to add that if I would but keep a

smiling face he would be better off than in the hospital. The boats

arrived about eleven o’clock, and by taking advantage of an interval

of fine weather the wounded were brought on shore in comparative

comfort. Even to my dearest friend I can’t describe my feelings when I

beheld Mr Fraser carried in helpless and frightfully pale. The wound

had been of such a nature as to produce an extraordinary effusion of

blood before the surgeons could attend to him, and he was in a

condition of extreme weakness, although his concern for me enabled him

to wear a cheerful countenance and rally me on my too evident alarm

and apprehension.

“I have a chitt here for you, madam,” he said, as soon as I had

assisted the surgeon to make him as easy as possible, “and I desire

you’ll read it in my presence.”

I opened the billet he presented to me, and regarded it incredulously,

unable to believe that after such a day of fighting, in the interval

between deposing one prince and setting up another, Colonel Clive

should have found opportunity to write to me.

“The Colonel gave it to me in the evening, when he came to visit the

wounded,” said Mr Fraser, “saying that he knew you would not regret my

losing a share in the plunder of Muxadavad provided you had me again.”

“Sure the Colonel’s a discerning person,” said I, and read the billet

aloud:--

“Madam,--I am fully sensible that by this time Mrs Fraser is

heartily repenting her heroic conduct of t’other night, and wishing

that she had carried her spouse in her train to an ignominious safety

at Calcutta, but will she permit the horrid wretch that has led him

into danger one word of excuse? Our victory, madam, I don’t hesitate

to say, we owe chiefly to the excellent working of our artillery, in

which Mr Fraser took a principal part. Without Mr Fraser our fire

could not have been so effective; with a less effective fire we could

not have won the battle, _ergo_, Mr Fraser’s presence with us was

necessary to the victory. If Mrs Fraser declare she would have

sacrificed her country’s interest to her spouse’s safety, such a

sentiment from her lips will surprise none more than her most

obedient, humble servant,

Robt. Clive.”

Do you wonder that this letter will be preserved among my most

precious treasures, Amelia? Sure I perceive now how it is that Colonel

Clive’s soldiers cherish so great an affection for him, since he can

write with such affable condescension to a silly girl who was playing

at being heroical without knowing what the part demanded of her. That

he should have cheered my dear Mr Fraser’s weakness with kind words of

praise for his services is no cause for surprise, but how few persons

in his high situation would have cared to dry the tears of an anxious

wife!

Cutwah, _July ye_ 5_th._

It is now near a fortnight since the battle of Placis, Amelia, and my

dear Mr Fraser, I am thankful to say, continues to make good progress.

By the way, in looking over these papers of mine, my spouse insists

that I have spelt the name of the battle wrong, since the Indians, who

should surely know their own language, call it Palassy. But I tell him

that Colonel Clive, in dating his billet wrote to me, spelt it Plassy,

while Mr Watts, than whom no man knows more of this country, writes it

Plaissy, so who shall decide? You’ll wonder, perhaps, that I should

submit my correspondence with my Amelia even to my husband’s eyes, but

I think my dear girl won’t grudge him the entertainment he is pleased

to find in what I write, for which he has made me to-day the prettiest

return in the world. Going to fetch out my papers but now, I found

among them a copy of verses addressed to myself, and soon perceived

that they were of Mr Fraser’s own composing. You know, my dear, that

in the old days at Calcutta there was many such tributes offered me,

but none of them, be sure, ever gave me one-tenth of the pleasure of

this one. Not even for my Amelia can I bring myself to copy out this

charming piece. Perhaps Mr Fraser may favour me in the future with

some verses of a less intimate nature, but these must remain sacred to

her for whom they were wrote; happy, thrice happy creature that she

is! Will it surprise you, Amelia, to learn that your Sylvia’s only

fear is lest she be too happy? You must not fancy she can ever forget

the horrors of the past year, nor the frightful deaths of the persons

she honoured and revered the most; but in her marriage there’s nothing

wanting to render her felicity absolute. Indeed (I fear you’ll laugh

at this), all this past fortnight my dear Mr Fraser has shown himself

so patient, so uncomplaining, that coupling this behaviour of his with

the extraordinary consideration he has displayed towards me since our

wedding, I have been terrified lest he should be about to be torn from

me, and it gave me the greatest pleasure imaginable when he began to

grow restless and irritable, and to chafe at the inaction made

necessary by his wound. True, the verses he writ were designed as an

atonement for this impatience, but I can’t tell you how vastly glad it

made me to find my spouse still the Colvin Fraser of old days.

But how I am running on, when I purposed only to tell you of Mr

Fisherton’s visit last night. Despatched by Colonel Clive from

Muxadavad to this place, in order to arrange certain matters, of which

more hereafter, he was so obliging as to sup with Mr Fraser and

myself, and describe to us the concluding scenes of that tragedy of

retribution which the Colonel has just brought to a close. Meeting

Meer Jaffier at Doudpaur on the morning after the battle, our

victorious commander accepted with the utmost complaisance the halting

excuses of his ally for his equivocal behaviour of the day before, and

having saluted him as Soubah of Bengall, despatched him at once to

secure Muxadavad, whence the wretched Surajah Dowlah succeeded in

escaping on his arrival. Meer Jaffier having established himself in

the possession of the city, Colonel Clive followed him thither, and

attended with a numerous train took up his quarters at the palace of

Moraudbaug.[21.05] The next day he proceeded to the Killa, the whole

population of Muxadavad assembling in the streets to gaze upon him

with awful respect, and there placed Meer Jaffier upon the _musnet_,

complimenting him with a _nuzzer_,[21.06] or friendly tribute, of a

hundred gold _mohrs_, an example which was followed by all the nobles

that stood round, in token that they acknowledged him to be the Nabob

of the province. The grateful barbarian, desiring to acquit himself of

his obligations to the English, waited the next day upon Colonel

Clive, and entered into engagements for the punctual payment of the

sums which he had already promised in relief of the distressed

inhabitants of Calcutta, and as a compliment to the gentlemen of the

Council and others, and this scene Mr Fisherton described to us very

particularly, saying--

“And now, madam, I am come to a point that can’t but be especially

grateful to you, since it concerns the punishment of a villain at

whose hands you have suffered not a little in time past. On the

Colonel’s entering the apartment where he designed to receive the

Soubah’s visit, old Omy Chund, with his usual bustle, pushed forward

among his attendants, but not finding himself received with any

distinction, withdrew in something of a pet to another part of the

hall. You may not be sensible, madam, that this white-haired traitor

was expecting to pocket the monstrous sum of twenty _lacks_, which he

imagined himself to have secured as the price of his not betraying to

Surajah Dowlah our confederacy with Meer Jaffier. The Soubah having

entered and been received with the usual courtesies, the business on

which he was come went forward, the treaty signed between us and him

being produced. When various matters had been arranged, Omy Chund, who

had again joined with the party in his eagerness to lay hands on his

imagined wealth, cried out with an air of stupefaction, ‘But it was a

red treaty I saw!’ ‘Yes, Omy Chund, but this is a white treaty,’ says

Colonel Clive; then to Mr Scrafton, ‘’Twill be as well to undeceive

the fellow.’ Upon this Mr Scrafton, approaching the deluded Gentoo

with no particular tenderness, and having in his hand the treaty wrote

on red paper, which he supposed secured his claims, said, ‘Omy Chund,

you have been deceived. This _loll coggedge_ is a forgery.’ It took

some time before Omy Chund could be brought to believe that in the

genuine treaty his name did not so much as appear, and that he stood

to gain no more by our victory than the other Gentoos of Calcutta; but

being at last persuaded of his misfortune (when the resentment and

indignation expressed in his countenance bars all description), he

appeared suddenly bereft of his intellects, and was assisted out of

the room by his attendants, remaining still, as we understand, in the

same deplorable situation.”

“But, sir,” I cried, “you confound me! Is it possible that an

assemblage of Britons, of Christians, should have conspired to delude

this wretched pagan with a forged instrument? Sure the Colonel--sure

Mr Watson--would never----”

“Indeed, madam, the notion was the Colonel’s own, and all the other

gentlemen attached their names to the red treaty without a spark of

hesitation, save only the Admiral; and understanding that, though he

demurred to take an active part, he experienced no repugnance to the

affair, I took the liberty of adding his signature.”

“Pray, sir,” cried Mr Fraser with great warmth, “don’t try to drag Mr

Watson into your plot. If I were not persuaded that he’ll disavow with

indignation the infamous use you have chose to make of his name, I

would throw up my commission sooner than serve under him again.”

“Why, sir, he may disavow it and welcome, if he’ll support his

disavowal by withdrawing also from the benefits secured to him by

means of the treaty as the officer in command of the squadron, but he

won’t.”

“Pray, sir, don’t judge of a seaman’s honour by that of your most

high-minded Colonel.”

“Sir, I have suffered your injurious language to myself, but when you

see fit to attack my generous patron in my presence I must resent it

with my----”

“Pray, young gentlemen,” said Dr Dacre, “remember there’s a lady

present, and leave Colonel Clive and the Admiral to settle their own

shares of the matter. But come, Mr Fisherton, have you no compunction

for your own part in this deception?”

“Not the slightest, sir. Even were I not persuaded that I had obliged

the Admiral by relieving his conscience from the odium of signing the

false treaty, while he retains the benefits it secured him, I have no

pity for Omy Chund. You was not in the Black Hole, sir. Omy Chund

contrived to bring about the miserable destruction of Calcutta in

revenge for his own fancied wrongs, and ’tis no thanks to him that the

happy issue of Mr Watts’ negotiations han’t been frustrated again and

again. He practised for the death of Mr Holwell, and he was the

instrument to betray Mrs Fraser into the hands of the vile Sinzaun.

Sure the lady’s spouse should be the last person in the world to find

fault with me for the joy I experience in having assisted to punish

the double-dyed traitor.”

“Sir,” said Mr Fraser gruffly, “I don’t dispute the justice of the

punishment, but only its means. Believe me, ’twill be a lasting blot

on Colonel Clive’s fame that he and those with him consented to enrich

themselves while depriving their confederate of his share of the

spoils.”

“Are you pointing at me there, sir?” cried Mr Fisherton.

“Nay, sir, I don’t doubt but the 50,000 rupees allotted you were

worthily earned otherwise than by your dealings with the treaty.”

“However they were earned,” says the young gentleman, with something

of a sigh, “they’ll be well spent. Every _anna_ but what I need for

the most pressing necessaries shall go home to my family. ’Twill

furnish marriage portions for my sisters, place my brothers out in

life, and relieve my honoured father of his cruellest anxieties. I’ll

assure you, gentlemen, that at least the money shall be better

employed than if Omy Chund had received it.”

And turning resolutely from the topic, he described to us the

miserable end of Surajah Dowlah, who, escaping in disguise with one of

his favourite women and a single servant, was recognised by a

_facquier_ whose nose and ears he had ordered to be cut off a year

ago, when on his march against the Purranea Nabob, and being seized

and brought back to Muxadavad was murdered secretly by emissaries of

Meer Jaffier’s son Meerham. So surely have the crimes of this wretched

prince brought their own punishment! Of Sinzaun nothing certain can be

learned. There’s a rumour of his being still alive, but if so, he’s a

fugitive in the Berbohm[21.07] country, with the rest of the

Frenchmen that escaped from Placis, and have failed to join with Mons.

Law, who is refuging at Patna, whither Major Coote was to start to-day

with a sufficient force to bring him and his soldiers in as prisoners.

The first instalment of the treasure due to the inhabitants of

Calcutta as a compensation for their losses of last year is to be paid

over to-morrow by Raja Doolubram, who has been set over the Muxadavad

treasury, and it is to be sent down the river at once, when Colonel

Clive is so good as to suggest that Mr Fraser and I should take

advantage of the chance to travel by one of the boats carrying it,

which will ensure both our comfort and safety.

_At Mr Hurstwood’s House_, Calcutta, _July ye_ 12_th._

Once more, Amelia, I date my letter from Calcutta, after a voyage

which has been one long triumph, owing to the precious freight of our

fleet of boats. No less than a hundred of these were required to

convey the Muxadavad treasure, which was packed in seven hundred

chests, and guarded by a strong force of troops as far as the town of

Nudiah.[21.08] Here the vessels were met by the boats of the

squadron, and thus attended, with flags flying and bands of music

playing, we sailed on to Calcutta, where the entire population,

overwhelmed with delight at this extraordinary accession of wealth,

gave way to the most extravagant rejoicing, and testified the utmost

esteem and affection both for one another and for those in authority.

Of these affecting demonstrations Mr Fraser and I were not witnesses,

for an urgent letter from my dear Mrs Hurstwood had entreated us to

land at Chitpore, and take breakfast with her at a _bungulo_ or

country-seat that Mr Hurstwood has lately bought. I found myself

welcomed with tears of joy by my Charlotte, who appeared unable to

make enough of me, and piqued me not a little by telling Mr Fraser

roundly that much as she valued him, ’twas solely for my sake, and if

he had any business in Calcutta, the day was his in which to do it,

for she promised herself the pleasure of hearing my history from my

own lips, and his interruptions were not desired. My dear spouse,

knowing that I can’t endure to hear his punctilio slighted, even in

jest, laughed at me for my vexation, and declared he had suffered far

worse things from Mrs Hurstwood, offering to prove it by one of her

letters, which had been effectual, he said, in making him less ready

to take offence than he had once been, since ’twas impossible to speak

of him in less flattering terms, which he had yet endured meekly at

her hands. Having seen him depart in a palanqueen, for his wound is

now so far recovered that he is able to sit up, though not to walk, my

Charlotte and I set to work to exchange a year’s confidences. Figure

to yourself, my dear girl, the prodigious task! If I had more to tell,

Charlotte’s kind expressions of sympathy and her eager questions gave

her full as large a part in the conversation, although she insisted

that I should recount all my tale before she would consent to impart

any news of her own. When at last all was told, I demanded of her with

indignation how she could find it in her heart to put a slight upon a

person that had behaved with the courage and generosity Mr Fraser had

shown, at which she laughed.

“Why, child,” she said, “your zeal for your spouse charms me, I’ll

assure you. I vow I must reward it by letting you see the letters he

wrote to me during his search for you. ’Tis no breach of confidence,

for he has promised to show you mine. Come, there’s the precious

pacquet, which you may study in your palanqueen as we ride home, for I

won’t have a moment of our talking-time wasted to-day.”

I leave you to picture, my Amelia, what your Sylvia’s feelings were on

reading these charming letters, every page in which breathes the

respect and affection with which her spouse is kind enough to regard

your unworthy friend. I am determined to obtain Mrs Hurstwood’s leave

to copy them out for myself, so that in case I am ever so base as to

be in danger of forgetting how infinitely Mr Fraser has obliged me in

the past, I may read them and be overwhelmed with shame, and I will

contrive to grant my Amelia the privilege of reading them also. Those

utterances in them which may appear extravagant, she’ll pardon as the

evidence of the too-partial kindness entertained for her Sylvia by the

writer, for indeed I could not bring myself to leave ’em out.

Something of this sort I said to my Charlotte when we were arrived at

Mr Hurstwood’s house, and she received it in her usual contradictory

style.

“Indeed, child, I’m glad you’re pleased. As for me, I took no pleasure

in your Fraser until he left off writing letters.”

“I am sorry my spouse annoyed Mrs Hurstwood with reports of his search

for me.”

“I’m sorry to see Mrs Fraser petted about nothing. Why, child, when I

received Dr Dacre’s letter announcing your marriage, and Fraser’s

incoherent scrawl saying that he could find no words in which to

write, I was satisfied at last that the fellow loved you as he ought.

So long as he could talk about his transports, even to his mistress’s

near friend, I could not repose in him the confidence I desired.”

“Sure you’re a person of vast authority on matters of love and

marriage, madam.”

“Questionless, my dear. Han’t I set the fashion for Calcutta in

weddings for many a long day? A surprise-wedding lends a charming

touch to an evening party.”

“But sure there have been no weddings here of late?”

“No weddings? Why, there’s been little but weddings. You forget that a

whole parcel of widows have required to be furnished with spouses.”

“Sure you can’t mean that the widows of the gentlemen who perished

last year----?”

“But I do mean it. I don’t desire to startle my Sylvia, but there’s

some things she must know.”

“You’d have me understand that--that--Mrs Freyne----?”

“Precisely. Mrs Freyne is entered upon a second matrimonial

experiment.”

“And the happy person favoured with the transfer of her affections?”

“Come, child, I can’t have you sarcastic. It don’t become a young

woman of my Sylvia’s charming disposition. The favoured suitor, my

dear, is Captain Bentinck, who got his company through the entreaties

of the Presidency when he was left to undertake the defence of

Calcutta on Colonel Clive’s going to the war.”

“She could scarce have insulted my papa’s memory worse than by such a

choice, made in such haste.”

“Indeed, my dear, there was no haste, I’ll assure you. The full year

and a day--not a moment less--did Mrs Freyne wear her weeds to the

admiration of the whole town, and ’twas in the evening of the 21st of

last month she was married. Perhaps you would not say that this proved

her a model of inconsolable constancy, but indeed she was thought to

be extraordinary strict. Why, Mrs Campbell, who married Mr Hastings

just before the hot weather began, only lost her Captain at the taking

of Buzbudgia in January. She, I grant you, wasted no time. But I vow

there’s no need for you to regret Mrs Freyne’s action, for you’ll have

the less to do with her. I thought I had best warn you of the affair,

as you’re about to meet her to-night.”

“Sure my Charlotte will never ask me to do anything so repugnant to my

sentiments.”

“Your Charlotte does ask it of you. To tell truth, my dear, I have

played a little trick on Mrs Bentinck. Shortly after her marriage she

came with the solemnest face in the world to ask me whether I had not

resigned all hope of seeing you again, since a year was past without

any news of you. I had just received the news of your wedding, and

made no scruple of assuring the lady that I was persuaded my Sylvia

Freyne was no more, when she departed comforted, and is now wearing

mourning for you. You perceive my plot?”

“Oh, my dear, don’t attempt anything dreadful. I have no desire to

alarm the lady into fits, or perhaps madness.”

“There’s no fear of that, child. ’Tis your papa’s property Mrs

Bentinck was concerned for, and that she can’t hope to keep now you’re

returned. Sure you can’t desire me to break the news to her gently? Is

it to be announced as joyful or melancholy? If she learn it on a

sudden, she can decide for herself. And now come to dress.”

In Mrs Hurstwood’s hands I feel myself a child, and when she desired

me to wear one of her gowns, which she had had a tailor alter during

the day to fit me, I obeyed her with all the meekness imaginable. I

can’t tell you how strange it appeared to me to put on a dress of

ceremony once more, and I thought I had never seen anything so

charming as the white satin petticoat and gown of white gauze sprigged

with gold that my Charlotte had chose for me. When I was dressed, she

came into the room with her hands full of crimson flowers.

“You look well enough, child,” she said, “but you han’t sufficient

colour left to carry off a dress all of white. Besides, you was

married more than a month ago, and we can’t have you look too like a

bride. So sit down, and let me adorn you.”

I sat down as she bade me, and she fastened her red blossoms in my

hair and in the bosom of my gown, then turned me round and told me in

her impudent style that she thought I might pass tolerably for a

boarding-school Miss just arrived from Europe if I would but keep that

Fraser of mine from following me about everywhere. Having succeeded in

making me angry, she informed me that I should find my adored spouse

in the saloon, as indeed I did, with his wounded limb laid on a couch.

It seemed to me that there was a slight gloom on his countenance, but

he drove it away when I joined him, and we were talking over the

events of the day when Mrs Hurstwood entered the apartment, bringing

with her my stepmother and Captain Bentinck.

“This is the dear friend I desired to present to you, madam,” said my

Charlotte, with an air of extraordinary sweetness. For the instant I

feared Mrs Bentinck’s falling into a fit as she regarded me with

consternation, but she recovered her coolness by a prodigious effort.

“I hope, miss,” she said to me, with an air of grave rebuke, “your

conscience tells you that you’re a suitable object for Mrs Hurstwood’s

kindness?”

“Indeed, madam, my dear Mrs Hurstwood has always been too partial to

my faults.”

“Perhaps you han’t considered, miss, that what we have heard of your

adventures” (yes, Amelia, she went so far as to use that term) “will

scarce entitle you to be received again in Calcutta. I had thought

better of you than to expect to find you imposing on Mrs Hurstwood’s

good nature. Sure a humble retirement would befit you better.”

Mr Fraser had raised himself angrily to speak when Mrs Bentinck made

use of the horrid word _adventures_, but Charlotte gave him a signal

to keep silent. Now she spoke with the greatest coolness in the world.

“Sure, madam, you must mistake my friend for some other person. This

is Mrs Fraser, the wife of the gentleman yonder, with whom your spouse

has, I believe, some acquaintance.”

“Questionless he has married her in hopes of her papa’s money,” says

Mrs Bentinck, as though she spoke to herself, but so loud that we

could all hear.

“Madam!” I cried, very hotly, “Mr Fraser married me at a moment when

all that he could hope for was to share the perils that menaced me.”

“I fear, sir,” she continued, as though I had not spoken, “you’ll be

disappointed to hear that Mr Freyne’s wealth was by no means so great

as was commonly supposed.”

“Why, then I’m rightly punished, madam,” says Mr Fraser, with infinite

cheerfulness.

“And of what there is,” she cried, vexed by his coolness, “not an

_anna_ that I can keep my hands on shall go to the creature you’ve

married.”

“Any remarks you may be pleased to pass upon my own conduct, madam,

I’ll be charmed to listen to, but I permit no one to insult Mrs Fraser

in my hearing.”

“Come, come, my dear,” says Captain Bentinck, “there’s been enough

said. Mr Fraser and his lady will questionless pardon your natural

agitation after such a start as you’ve had, and I need not say I shall

be glad to meet the gentleman or any person he may please to appoint

for the discussion of business.”

“Oh, forgive me, sir!” cried his lady, making him a curtsey. “I had

forgot you would scarce choose to meet Mr Fraser a second time at the

sword’s point.”

“Madam,” said the poor gentleman (I did truly compassionate him at the

moment, Amelia), “I’m sorry to disoblige you, but if you’ll be so kind

as leave this matter to Mr Fraser and me, there’ll be all the more

hope of a peaceful settlement.”

“And that signifies that you’ll see your wife despoiled for the sake

of the saucy creature there. Would that I had married a person with a

spark of courage or manly sentiment in him! Well, sir,” turning to Mr

Fraser, “I perceive you’ll have reason to bless the Captain’s easy

temper, but I wish you joy of what you may get. You’ve found your lady

obliging enough when you was all she had to depend upon for

entertainment, and she owed her precious life to you from day to day,

but wait and see how she’ll use you in Calcutta, when she has plenty

of money and trains of admirers, and her dear Mrs Hurstwood to support

her in all her whims. I fancy the spouse of the lovely Sylvia will

find himself less important with his lady than he’d desire.”

Sure some malignant spirit must have prompted Mrs Bentinck thus to

foster the misgiving that I had discerned in Mr Fraser’s mind already

that day, but he answered her coolly enough--

“Since any kindness Mrs Fraser may please to show me is beyond my

deserts, madam, I’ll trust to be always grateful for it.”

Disappointed of the effect she had hoped to produce, the lady left us

with a disdainful air to join with the rest of the company, in order

to receive whom Charlotte had been compelled to depart, hugely to her

annoyance, and Captain Bentinck following her after a few civil words,

I found myself for a moment alone, so to speak, with Mr Fraser. I

could not resolve to lose this chance.

“Oh, dear sir,” I said, very earnestly, “have I deserved this lack of

confidence at your hands? Can you think so meanly of the creature you

have so infinitely obliged as to imagine that the possession of any

advantages would alter her carriage towards you? At least do me the

favour to test my abiding gratitude, and if you find it wanting,

recall me to a sense of my duty. I’ll assure you it shan’t be

necessary to upbraid me twice.”

“Why, what a bear I must be,” cried Mr Fraser, “to have drawn this

affecting appeal from my beloved girl! Indeed, my dearest life, if I

looked sour on parting from you this morning, ’twas but the thought of

a whole day spent without you, or if I answered that saucy lady less

warmly than I felt, ’twas because I feared to give her cause to cry

out on me as extravagant. That’s my wretched pride again, you’ll say.

Well, so it is, and I’m more ashamed of it than ever in my life

before. Won’t my charmer extend me her pardon?”

“So long as I know I have your confidence, dear sir----”

“So long as my Sylvia pleases herself, let her know that she can’t

disoblige her Fraser. His confidence she must always possess.”

I was made happy by hearing this, but none the less was I thankful not

to have delayed making my appeal, for, knowing as I do my dear Mr

Fraser’s cast of disposition, I tremble at the prospect of the least

interruption of the happy understanding between us. You’ll own,

Amelia, that I have some experience of the gloomy pride that possesses

him when he imagines himself wronged, and to give him cause to display

it would break my heart.

“Come, come,” cried Mrs Hurstwood, coming up to us just as Mr Fraser

had kissed my hand, “I can’t suffer these public endearments now that

you’re returned to polite life. You must learn to carry yourselves

towards each other with the indifference of persons of fashion.

Besides, I want my Sylvia here, to present an old acquaintance to her.

I’ll find a consoler for Mr Fraser in a moment.”

She carried me into the next room in a prodigious hurry, and bade me

seat myself upon an ebony couch, then brought in no less a person than

Admiral Watson, who walks now always with the aid of a stick, and

bears traces in his countenance of the distemper from which he has

suffered since almost his first arrival in Bengall.

“Now here, dear sir,” says Charlotte, “is the beloved friend of whom I

spoke to you. Pray did I exaggerate her charms in describing ’em?”

“Even Mrs Hurstwood can’t perform the impossible,” said the Admiral,

bowing. “Her portrait I must pronounce to have fallen far short of the

reality.”

If I was puzzled by this introduction, and by the look my Charlotte

cast at me as she departed, as though recommending me to do my best to

gain Mr Watson’s favour, I was worse perplexed by the good gentleman’s

conversation, for I soon learned that he imagined me to be a stranger

to India, only newly landed from Britain.

“I fear Admiral Watson’s memory en’t so strong as his kindness,” I

said at last, after acknowledging several genteel compliments, “for I

had the honour to meet him at Madrass near two years ago.”

“Oh, madam,” and the Admiral laughed, “’tis strong enough to recollect

that Mrs Hurstwood has been known to play tricks upon her

acquaintances, and I fear her lovely friend en’t ashamed to copy her.”

“Sure her trick was to make you believe I was newly from home, sir.”

“She assured me positively that you was but just arrived in Calcutta,

madam. But stay--pray, madam, may I be favoured with your name?”

“My name is Fraser, sir,” and I permitted Mr Watson to catch a glimpse

of the wedding-ring upon my finger. Figure to yourself my alarm,

Amelia, when he burst into a great shout of laughter.

“What! the lady over whom Mr Fraser and I have been quarrelling all

day?” he cried.

“Oh, dear sir, have I brought Mr Fraser into fresh difficulties?”

“Why, madam, I thought he had taken undue advantage of my easy temper

when he confessed he had married the lady I permitted him only to

rescue. But I protest I’d have done the same myself on the like

provocation.”

“But you won’t make him suffer, sir, for his generosity to a poor

desolate creature that had no friend but him?”

“He has plenty of consolation, madam, if I did. But figure to yourself

how the affair appears to his comrades. Lieutenant Fraser, admitted

through the Admiral’s softness to an indulgence he don’t in the least

deserve, outstays his leave without permission, and contrives not only

to take part in Colonel Clive’s battle at Placis but to marry a

handsome wife. It’s clear he must be punished.”

“Oh, pray, dear sir, pray----”

“Now pray, madam, don’t cry. I was about to say that for the sake of

others I must leave Mr Fraser in his old station, not allowing him to

profit by the accidents that have of late advanced so many of our

officers to a higher rank, but if he’ll carry himself in that

situation so as to merit my favour (and with such a lady to inspire

him I don’t doubt but he will), why, he shall have it!”

Sure I can’t tell, my dear girl, whether at the moment I was more

grateful for my Charlotte’s trick to gain the Admiral’s kindness for

Mr Fraser, or more ashamed of my jealous misinterpreting of the

natural melancholy my spouse had shown on his return from waiting on

Mr Watson, seeing his prospects all in danger.

Calcutta, _August ye_ 19_th._

How little I imagined, when I closed my last letter to my Amelia, that

the truly great and benevolent man whose affable kindness it recorded

was shortly to quit the world in which he had obliged so many and

displeased none! Three days ago Admiral Watson, the most condescending

of patrons, the most skilful of commanders, breathed his last in the

hospital here. The disorder from which he suffered had increased

continually upon him; but the mournful termination might have been

avoided had it not been for a sudden attack of what is called in

Bengall a _pucker_[21.09] fever (which is to say a severe and violent

one), of which he expired in four days. There are no words to express

the grief and consternation experienced by all in this place, as well

Indians as Europeans, on hearing of the shocking event. This excellent

person had so endeared himself to all classes by the justness of his

sentiments, the politeness of his manners, and the nobility of his

disposition, that there’s not a creature but feels the loss of a

friend. No such funeral procession has ever been seen in Calcutta as

that which on Wednesday attended to the burying-ground the remains of

one so universally venerated. Not only the officers and seamen of the

ships, but the army, the black and Armenian inhabitants, and even the

French prisoners, desired to testify their regret for his decease;

while Colonel Clive, the only individual that could at all compete

with Mr Watson in the public estimation, was present with the rest,

and dropped an unfeigned tear. A fortnight back all the talk of the

place was of the claim put in by the Admiral for a share in the

Muxadavad treasure proportionate to the post he held, and how Colonel

Clive, in proposing to deduct for his benefit a certain portion of

each person’s share, and actually paying over his own part of the sum,

had disobliged the Presidency and the army officers; but now there can

be few but feel that the Colonel alone has nothing to regret in

considering his dealings with the amiable and virtuous person whom we

have lost.

Must I confess to my dear friend that in my heart there has been,

united with that sense of public loss which could not but make itself

felt, a particular grief that the only patron to whom Mr Fraser might

reasonably look for advancement in his profession could now oblige him

no further? That this unworthy strain has mingled with my sorrow I

can’t deny; but my Amelia may judge of the shame with which I

contemplated the sentiment when I learned that even on his death-bed

Mr Watson remained mindful of the interests of those who had served

under him. Yesterday Admiral Pococke, who succeeds the lamented

gentleman in the command of his Majesty’s naval forces in these

waters, having summoned to his presence those officers for whom Mr

Watson had been chiefly concerned, promised them his countenance and

favour in the future, and made them the most obliging offers of

advancement under his own eye. Until that moment, as he confessed to

me, Mr Fraser had entertained serious thoughts of quitting the navy

and entreating the favour of a commission in the Artillery from

Colonel Clive; but finding himself confronted with the same agreeable

prospects as before, he is now joyfully resolved to remain in the

calling of his choice.

You’ll be surprised to hear that we are still residing with Mr and Mrs

Hurstwood; but to tell truth we have found it impossible to quit their

dwelling. As soon as Mr Fraser proposed seeking a house for ourselves,

our friends assured us that theirs was far too large for their wants,

and that they would regard it as a favour if we relieved them of a

part of it. Now this liberal offer was so great a convenience,

considering the huge rents asked here, that we could scarce consent to

accept of it; but when my Charlotte painted a moving picture of the

solitude I should experience when Mr Fraser was absent on his voyages,

and the consolation she might afford me if she needed only to step

across the varanda to pay me a visit, my spouse went over to her side

at once. Then she sought to compliment me with visions of the

assistance I might furnish to her in her household œconomy when she

felt vapourish (for indeed she is not strong), and declared at last

that if I removed to another part of Calcutta she would compel Mr

Hurstwood to remove also and hire the house next to ours, so that I

also was brought to consent to remain. But my dear girl must not

suppose that we are so poor as to find it difficult to live according

to our station. Under the influence of good Mr Holwell and Mr

Hurstwood, Captain Bentinck has behaved like a person of honour and

probity respecting my dear papa’s estate, although his good designs

were sorely hindered by his lady; and Captain Colquhoun’s gift, of

which I can scarce bear to think even now, ensures us a genteel

maintenance. With this and Mr Fraser’s pay, I’ll assure you we find no

cause to envy even the wealthiest persons here.

_P.S._--Miss Dorman (who is now Miss Dorman no longer, but Mrs Weeks)

is come in, and finding me writing, desires her compliments to you,

saying that she regards you as a friend of her own. Her humble

servant, who was fighting in the Carnatic, came hither with the

Madrass detachment, and married her at Fulta, “just in time,” says

she, “for I had near determined on resigning my pretensions to him and

youth together, calling myself Mrs before others tired of calling me

Miss,[21.10] and settling down to cards and scandal as the only old

maid in Calcutta, with a cat, an ape, and a poll-parrot to keep me

company.” But I know my Amelia will rejoice with me that this amiable

creature en’t compelled to so melancholy a fate.

Calcutta, _Sept. ye_ 18_th._

Has my Amelia ever pleased herself with speculations upon the

sentiments of mankind after the Deluge? I hope she won’t accuse me of

irreverence, but I have been wondering whether, when the patriarch and

his descendants returned to the scenes with which they had been

formerly acquainted, they were at any time wont to spare a

compassionate thought for those who had once trod with them the turf

of the umbrageous grove, or listened to the murmuring of the brook.

Sure they could not have succeeded in forgetting them as completely as

though they had never been, and yet our people in Calcutta have

contrived to attain to an eminence as uncommon, as inhuman almost, as

this. And such a malevolent oblivion is the more astonishing, that

those who perished in the miseries of last year were not the worst,

but the best, of our community. My papa, Captain Colquhoun, good Padra

Bellamy and his son, Mr Eyre, Ensign Piccard, and all the rest--the

first two commemorated indeed by the elegant tablets which the pious

care of Mr Fraser has had erected in the burying-ground in their

honour, but the names of the others allowed to perish unless the

excellent Mr Holwell (like your Sylvia a sharer and a survivor of the

horrors of those days) should carry out his projected design of

raising a suitable monument to their common memory.[21.11] Is there

no pathetic[21.12] in this strange neglect? ’Tis little wonder,

you’ll say, that Mr Drake and the Council should desire to shroud in

darkness such recollections as could only blacken their own behaviour,

but sure it had been but a delicate action on Colonel Clive’s part to

put them to shame by taking the matter in hand. The Colonel don’t

think so, however, and Calcutta goes on its way forgetful of the

persons in whom it should take most pride. Indeed, my dear, the state

of this place now is far worse than when our good Captain Colquhoun

used to anticipate a judgment upon it, owing, I fear, to the

prodigious sums of money poured into the town as the result of the

victory of Placis. True, there was no disputes about the division of

the treasure, which was distributed by a committee of the most

respectable inhabitants, whose award was received with the greatest

complaisance imaginable, but the common men of the army and navy spend

their portion of the spoils in the most extravagant folly and

wickedness conceivable, and even the gentlemen of the services seem to

have lost their senses by reason of this sudden accession of wealth.

As I rode through the city this afternoon in my palanqueen, I saw on

all sides of me the signs of the most ostentatious luxury, of the most

prodigal expenditure of the treasure so unhappily obtained.

Sure I must be vapourish, you’ll say, to give vent to these gloomy

reflections. Why, so they are gloomy, my dear, but my situation is a

melancholy one. Yesterday there arrived in the river the Revenge

sloop, which had made an extraordinary quick voyage from Madrass,

bringing news of the arrival of a great French fleet on the

Choromandel Coast. The season of the year forbids Mr Pococke to take

the sea against ’em, but he has thought it well to carry his ships to

Ballisore Road, there to keep watch in case of an attempted attack on

Bengall, and the vessels dropped down the river to-day. Many friends

and relations of the officers were permitted to share the passage as

far as Culpee, and Captain Latham complimented me with an invitation

on board the Tyger, so that I was able to enjoy Mr Fraser’s company

for a little longer. But this was not wholly charming, for I could not

but see that the dear gentleman was so placed that persons much

inferior to him in attainments, and even in age, were entitled to give

him their orders. I could not help deploring this to him before we

parted, and lamenting that his determined search for me had involved

him in such a loss of sea-time and of opportunities for distinction as

had brought him into so painful a situation, but he checked me

immediately.

“Pray, my dearest girl,” he said, “have done once and for all with

this talk of obligation between you and me. Sure I had willingly

undertook what I did simply to know that my Sylvia was restored to

freedom and safety; but when to that is added the honour of possessing

her, I am overpaid a thousand times. The favour is all on my side, and

if you love me, you’ll permit me to rejoice in that thought.”

To so affecting an appeal ’twas not possible to return a refusal,

although it deprives me of that exercise which is the most charming of

all to a generous mind--the consideration of the obligations one owes

to one’s friends. But my dear Mr Fraser is gone, and what little his

Sylvia can do to please him shall be done--although not altogether as

my Charlotte desired me just now. Having made me drink a dish of tea

on my return from the Gott, and sought in vain to engage me in a

cheerful conversation, “Oh, there!” she cried, “go and write to your

Fraser. I see you’ll take no pleasure in anything until that’s done.”

But I hope I en’t so extravagant as Mrs Hurstwood feigns to believe. I

will begin a letter to Mr Fraser to-morrow; at present I’ll finish

that to my Amelia. Do you know, my dear, I fancy this will be the last

of my huge pacquets? Letters you’ll receive from me in the future, I

hope, but scarcely those minute histories which it has so often

solaced me to write. These, if I am able to write them at all, must go

to my spouse, and my dear girl won’t grudge it, knowing that in heart

her friend is, as ever, her

Sylvia Fraser.

APPENDIX.

A.--ON THE SPELLING OF WORDS AND NAMES.

It will be noticed that the orthography of Indian words in the text

differs with each writer, and this is the case in all the writings of

the period. That phonetic method of spelling, which has passed into

literature in the works of Thackeray and Macaulay, and for a return to

which a writer in one of the magazines recently entered a plea,

reigned supreme, but with this drawback, that each man expressed

differently the sounds he heard. To take one instance, the

comparatively simple name Baj-baj appears in various writings as

Buz-buzia, Buz-budgee, Busbudgia, Budje Boodjee, and Bougee Bougee,

besides the more modern Budge-Budge. The first person that rendered

Murshidabad as Muxidavad evidently pronounced the _x_ in the

Portuguese way, as _sh_, when the name is quite recognisable if the

accent be placed on the first syllable, but those who followed him,

ignorant of this fact, passed from Muxadavad into Mucksadabad--a

terrible example of the dangers of a follow-my-leader policy. Some

writers, and notably Holwell, made an effort to obtain uniformity.

Aghast at discovering the long _a_ sound (as in Khan) variously

rendered by _o_, _u_, _au_, and _aw_, they employed _aa_ for the

purpose, and hence we are confronted with such monstrosities as

_Rhaajepoot_ for Rajput. Considering the difficulty of rendering

Hindustani words by means of English letters, the modern student may

be thankful for the Hunterian system, which at least ensures

uniformity, even though upon a purely conventional basis. It may be

mentioned that the diversity is not confined to Indian words. The name

of le Beaume is spelt in four different ways.

B.--THE FAMILY OF ALIVARDI KHAN.

The following table has been compiled from Orme’s History and the

_Seïr-ul-Mutaqharin_ to show the relationship of Alivardi Khan’s

descendants. The three daughters of Alivardi married the three sons of

his brother Hodjee Hamet (Haji Ahmad), while his half-sister

Shah-Khanum was married to Mir Jafar, and became the mother of his son

Miran.

[image: img_462.jpg (Genealogy Tree)]

C.--AUTHORITIES FOLLOWED IN THE TEXT.

The period treated in this book is singularly rich in contemporary

personal records. Holwell, Watts, and Scrafton have left us lengthy

narratives of their experiences, and Ives, Admiral Watson’s surgeon

and clerk, supplies a detailed account of the campaign of vengeance

which terminated at Plassey. Clive’s letters give us the military

point of view, and in the _Seïr-ul-Mutaqharin_ we have that of the

natives. Orme’s History (1763) appears to have been compiled from

other documents still, probably the official letters addressed to the

Court of Directors, since his account of Mr Watts’ escape from

Madhupur, for instance, is far more detailed than that contained in

Watts’ own ‘Memoirs of the Revolution in Bengal.’ Orme’s account is

followed in the text, save that other names have been substituted for

those of Messrs Collet and Sykes and Dr Forth, whom the historian

mentions as Watts’ companions in addition to the Tartar servant. The

evidence given before the Parliamentary Committee of 1772 adds many

interesting details, and the same may be said of two MSS. in the

Hastings Collection, one written by the anonymous junior civilian who

is called Mr Dash in the text, the other the _apologia_ of Captain

Grant, who had fought under Prince Charles Edward at Culloden, and

succeeded, when the Jacobite cause was lost, in escaping to Bengal,

where ill-fortune still pursued him. I am indebted to Dr Busteed,

whose book, ‘Echoes from Old Bengal,’ is a mine of curious information

on eighteenth-century Calcutta, for directing my attention to these

writings. The description of Siraj-u-Daula’s Durbar is taken from the

_Discours Préliminaire_ of Anquetil du Perron’s translation of the

‘Zend-Avesta,’ the French traveller having visited Murshidabad during

the prince’s short reign. For various minor details, the ‘Voyages’ of

Grose and of Mrs Kindersley have been laid under contribution, while

Broome’s ‘History of the Bengal Army’ has afforded a standard by which

to compare the often varying contemporary authorities.

The variations and discrepancies in these narratives form indeed the

great difficulty of the historian, and with these must be joined their

omissions, particularly in matters of date. Thus there are no means of

knowing the exact time at which Mr Watts’ letter of warning as to the

Nawab’s intentions arrived, or when the Delawar entered the Hugli with

the instructions of the Court of Directors, when Siraj-u-Daula was

formally proclaimed in Calcutta and the Governor’s letter of

congratulation forwarded, or when “Fuckeer Tongar” and the Nawab’s

second messenger arrived, or lastly, when the “first prohibition of

provisions” took place, at which time Holwell recommended the seizure

of Tanna. I have endeavoured in the text to place these events in

their probable order and in a right relation to one another.

D.--THE HISTORICAL PERSONAGES INTRODUCED.

In consequence of the abundant information obtainable, there is little

scope for imagination in the treatment of the historical personages

brought into the story as secondary characters. Messrs Holwell, Eyre,

Bellamy (father and son), Mapletoft, le Beaume, Watts, and Hastings,

and Governor Drake and his two friends, stand revealed either in their

own writings or those of their contemporaries. The characters of the

five captains commanding the Calcutta forces are drawn for us by

Holwell, but students of the original narrative will observe that I

have substituted the name of Captain Colquhoun for that of Buchanan.

So also the brilliant young civilian who survived the Black Hole to

become Clive’s instrument in the matter of the false treaty is called

in the text by the name of Fisherton. It may be objected that the

character of Drake and his fellow deserters is drawn too exclusively

from the records of those who suffered by their cowardice in forsaking

Fort William, but to that I may reply that neither Grant in his MS.

defence, nor Manningham in his evidence before the House of Commons

Committee, succeeds in shedding any more agreeable light on the

disgraceful exploit, while Drake’s opinion of the affair is shown by

his having, in conjunction with the Council, sentenced Captains Grant

and Minchin to be dismissed the Service, for following his own

example. Grant, it may be remarked, was afterwards reinstated, in view

of his unsuccessful efforts to induce the President to return to the

help of those left in the Fort, and he took part in the hostilities

which culminated at Plassey.

Admiral Watson’s character is described in detail by Ives, and

sketched at some length by Watts, while the chance allusions of other

writers concur in assuring us of his extreme amiability as a man, and

his high qualities as a commander. (His tomb, like that of young

William Speke, is still to be seen at the Old Cathedral, Calcutta, and

it may be news to some Londoners to learn that there is a monument to

him in the north transept of Westminster Abbey.) The remarkable

indecision displayed by Clive before the engagement at Plassey is

historical, and appears to have been due to one of those fits of

depression to which he was subject. The name of Sinzaun will not be

found in the records of the period, but we learn from Grant that the

Nawab’s artillery at the siege of Fort William was under the command

of a French renegade, who called himself the Marquis de St Jacques,

while the last stand at Plassey was made by a small company of French

under a leader called St Frais, whose name was spelt Sinfray by the

English and the natives, and who was not killed, as is erroneously

stated in the index to Malleson’s ‘Life of Clive,’ but lived to fight

another day.

E.--THE TOPOGRAPHY OF CALCUTTA.

One of the chief difficulties in tracing the various localities of old

Calcutta is the extent to which the river-bank has altered its shape

and position, so that where in Orme’s day was water, there are now

streets and squares. It is still possible, however, to discover some

of the old land-marks, although the Fort William of the text must not

be sought for on the site of the present one, for that was built by

Clive where the hamlet of Gobindpur had formerly stood. The Post

Office marks the spot occupied by the original Fort William, and the

site of the Black Hole (the discovery of which in 1883 is recorded by

Dr Busteed) is marked by a stone bearing an inscription. The Park or

Lal Bagh is the present Tank Square or Dalhousie Square. The site of

the church is thought by some to be occupied by St Andrew’s

Presbyterian Church, while the Old Cathedral (St John’s) marks the

site of the burying-ground mentioned in the text. The present

Government House covers, so far as can be determined, the site of the

old Company’s House. The gaol, says Broome in 1850, “was about the

site of the present Lall Bazar Auction Mart.” The present suburb of

Hastings stands on the site of Surmans, and the ground between it and

the city proper, now occupied by Chauringhi and the Maidan, was still

a marshy jungle even at the end of the last century. The Chitpur Road,

an old native pilgrim-way, marked the division between the English and

native quarters of the town, and the Marhata Ditch followed the course

of the present Circular Road. Further information on this interesting

subject may be obtained from Dr Busteed’s book and Sir William

Hunter’s ‘Gazetteer of India,’ art. “Calcutta.”

F.--SOME POINTS IN CONNECTION WITH THE FALL OF CALCUTTA.

It is difficult to resist the conclusion that never was a city more

thoroughly warned of its impending doom than the Calcutta of 1756, and

the fact renders the alternate defiance and cowardice of the

Presidency the more unaccountable. That the actual approach of peril

took them altogether by surprise appears certain, and Orme blames Mr

Watts for not informing them until the danger was close at hand of the

anxiety as to their intentions displayed by Alivardi Khan in his

death-bed conversation with Dr Forth, which appears to have been

considered by Siraj-u-Daula as a justification for his own subsequent

proceedings. But without adopting the extreme view of the French, that

the siege and its consequences were the outcome of a deliberate plan

formed by Drake and his confederates for the destruction of Holwell,

there can be little doubt that the President and his two friends were

playing a double game, and found themselves defeated only because they

met with opponents still less scrupulous than they were. The

constitution of the Council was such as to render it extremely easy

for them to manipulate public affairs in their own interest. Watts,

the accomptant and second in command, was absent at Kasimbazar, and

the executive was practically in the hands of the Governor, Manningham

the warehouse-keeper, and his “partner” Frankland. The House of

Commons Report makes it clear that these three were suspected not only

of supporting the claims of Ghasiti Bigam against those of

Siraj-u-Daula in the hope of gain, but of accepting a money bribe to

allow the admission of Kishen Das into Calcutta. The writer who in the

text is called Mr Dash goes further, and asserts roundly that their

earlier defiance of the Nawab was intended to alarm the protected

merchants and wealthy men of the surrounding districts, and induce

them to seek refuge in Calcutta, when the Presidency might levy

blackmail on their possessions. After this we are scarcely surprised

to learn on the same authority that Drake and his friends were wont to

apply to their own use as much as 10,000 rupees a month, which was a

part of the sum devoted by the Court of Directors to the payment of

the army--an army practically non-existent--nor that the plunder found

at Tanna was put on board the Doddalay, the ship which belonged to the

three confederates, and transferred to the snow Neptune. Having

attained their object in despatching the expedition, the Presidency

had no further interest in Tanna, but kept up a show of activity

without any real result on the second day, merely in order to cover

the passage of the Neptune up to Calcutta. It is some consolation to

hear that when Fort William was abandoned, this vessel went ashore

near Baj-baj, and the treasure was lost.

Unfortunately for the plans of the Presidency, it can scarcely be

doubted that they were overreached from the first. The hollowness of

the Nawab’s anger against Kishen Das, evidenced not only by the

honours showered upon him on the fall of Calcutta, but by the fact

that Rajballab, the father, and presumably the more guilty of the two,

remained unmolested at the Court from beginning to end of the matter,

seems to show that the affair of Kishen Das was nothing but a ruse,

intended to bring about the ruin of the English by arousing their

cupidity. That it was devised by Amin Chand and his friend Gobind Ram

Mitar, as was suspected at the time, in revenge for what they

considered the injustice with which they had been treated, is scarcely

more doubtful. The double-dyed traitor Amin Chand appears, indeed, to

have played both parties false with the greatest impartiality

throughout his career, but the special malevolence displayed towards

Holwell and the three others by whom he conceived himself to have been

particularly injured seems to prove that the overthrow was plotted by

him, and this is corroborated by the correspondence discovered between

Amin Chand and Manak Chand. In consequence of this unsuspected

treachery, the President and his friends, who had counted confidently

upon the defeat of the Nawab, first at the hands of Ghasiti Bigam and

then at those of his cousin of Parnia, found their confidence futile,

and the airy carelessness with which they had been wont to discuss

affairs of state, both with casual acquaintances and with the natives,

contributed to their downfall by the information it furnished to the

enemy. It is interesting to observe that in his examination before the

Commons Committee, Manningham observes with the greatest coolness that

in his opinion it was not in the power of any man to give a reason for

the disaster, and that he knew of no conduct on the part of the

Company’s servants likely to incense the country government. In regard

to their intentions, this is probably true, but it is almost

impossible not to believe that their plans for their own

aggrandisement recoiled upon them in a way they little expected.

The conduct of the Governor and his friends during the siege appears

to have been due merely to pusillanimity, for even Mr “Dash” does not

venture to hint at treachery on their part. The incapacity of the

engineers prepared a position impossible of defence, and the cowardice

of those in command precipitated a defeat which a more resolute

resistance might have delayed, and thus averted altogether. The flight

of Manningham and Frankland was a natural corollary to the abandonment

of the north and south batteries, and the order to the captain of the

Doddalay to drop down the river followed easily. In the text I have

followed Captain Grant’s account of Drake’s flight, his own share in

which he endeavours to excuse by asserting that the boat in which he

accompanied him was the only one left. If this is true, it seems

scarcely necessary to have locked the Fort gate to prevent further

desertions, as we learn was done, and that others succeeded in getting

away is probable from the narrative of Mr “Dash,” which ends with a

suspicious abruptness after describing the President’s escape. Unless

the anonymous writer was the Mr Lewis who accompanied Mr Pearkes to

the Prince George, and was presumably saved with her crew, he must

have found some means of reaching the ships from the Fort, for we know

on his own testimony that he was among the refugees at Falta. Le

Beaume, who is branded by Broome with the stigma of taking part in the

stampede, is shown by Grant’s narrative to have been wounded, and by

Holwell’s to have been sent on board the Diligence on the night of the

18th with Mrs Drake and the three other ladies who had been left

behind. I have no authority for identifying these ladies (whose vessel

was captured by the enemy off Baj-Baj, and all Holwell’s property

lost) with those mentioned in the _Seïr-ul-Mutaqharin_ as having

fallen into the hands of Mir Jafar, and been by him restored to their

husbands, but the identification appears probable.

[The End]

FOOTNOTES.

CHAPTER I FOOTNOTES.

[1.01]

#fit# fainting-fit.

[1.02]

#nightgown# the nightgown (a remote ancestor of the tea-gown of

to-day) was a semi-fitting flowing robe worn, generally without a

hoop, in the morning and on non-ceremonial occasions.

[1.03]

#King’s ribbon# the black or scarlet Hanoverian cockade which

distinguished the royal forces.

[1.04]

#What will the noble Captain take?# it was customary to address a

subaltern as Captain: officers of higher rank, on the contrary, were

often spoken of as Mr.

[1.05]

#Colonel Adlercron’s regiment of foot# this was the 39th Regiment.

The men were to be employed as marines on board the ships.

[1.06]

#Select Piquet# this was composed of cadets waiting for commissions.

[1.07]

#capuchin# a hooded cloak, the usual outdoor garment of the time.

[1.08]

#Gott# _ghat_, landing-place.

[1.09]

#old Roman# the story is told of Themistocles.

[1.10]

#whisk# whist.

[1.11]

#particular# peculiar.

[1.12]

#Emily# Emily was incorrectly used as the diminutive of Amelia.

CHAPTER II FOOTNOTES.

[2.01]

#Fonchial# Funchal.

[2.02]

#mob# the mob-cap covered the hair almost entirely.

[2.03]

#cuddy# dining-saloon.

[2.04]

#behave with justice and humanity to those serving under him# the

brutalities described by Smollett must not be taken as typical of the

navy at this time as a whole. There is abundant evidence that many

commanders were the idols of their men, and a private letter from

Captain Latham of the Tyger, contributed by its recipient to the

‘Gentleman’s Magazine’ for 1755, shows the gallant officer to

have been as full of plans and “fads” for his crew’s health and

happiness as the most philanthropic captain of to-day.

[2.05]

#island of St Johanne# Johanna, one of the Comoro Islands.

CHAPTER III FOOTNOTES.

[3.01]

#Culpee# Kalpi.

[3.02]

#checks# chiks.

[3.03]

#notch# _nāch._

[3.04]

#Sawgers# Sagar.

[3.05]

#Gioghis# _Jogis_, also spelt _juggies_.

[3.06]

#Gentoos# Hindus.

[3.07]

#buxies# _bakhshish_.

[3.08]

#Surmans# the southernmost suburb of Calcutta.

[3.09]

#Buzbudgia# Baj-baj.

[3.10]

#Moors# Mohammedans.

[3.11]

#Tanners# Tanna.

[3.12]

#Govindpoor’s Reach# the present Fort William occupies the site of

Gobindpur.

[3.13]

#near twenty years ago# this was in 1737.

[3.14]

#he should by rights have been born a Quaker# this is the most

probable explanation of the statement made by Voltaire and Grose, that

Governor Drake was a member of the Society of Friends.

[3.15]

#Dutch baby# doll.

CHAPTER IV FOOTNOTES.

[4.01]

#Beebee# _bibi_=lady. The term _mem-sahib_ appears not to have come

into use at this date.

[4.02]

#iya# ayah.

[4.03]

#saeb# sahib.

[4.04]

#peculiar# characteristic.

[4.05]

#fly cap# a small cap which allowed the hair to be seen. A dressed

suit was a complete dress of one material, with a distinct trimming.

[4.06]

#mohurry, banyan, secar, compidore, kissmagar, consummer, mussall

chye, pyke, and harry# it is perhaps scarcely necessary to give the

modern spelling of these words: _muhri_, _baniya_, _sarkar_,

_comprador_ (a Portuguese term), _khitmatgar_, _khansaman_,

_masalchi_, _paik_, _hari_.

[4.07]

#Fringys# probably a corruption of Farangi.

[4.08]

#Muxadavad# Murshidabad.

[4.09]

#Cossimbuzar# Kasimbazar.

[4.10]

#Delly# Delhi.

[4.11]

#Morattoes# Marhatas.

[4.12]

#Orixa# Orissa.

[4.13]

#phirmaunds and husbulhookums# _firman_, a charter from the Emperor:

_hasbalhukm_, a confirmation of it under the Grand Vizier’s seal.

[4.14]

#musnet# masnad.

[4.15]

#dussticks# _dastak_, a permission to trade, given to the servants of

the Company, and conferring certain privileges.

[4.16]

#soubahship# _suba_, which is in reality the province or fief governed

by a _subadar_, the English took as the ruler’s title, and they

invented the term _soubahship_ to denote his post, which should be

_subadari_.

[4.17]

#French necklace# the ribbon with which the neck of the low-cut gown

was drawn up.

[4.18]

#Three heads# a _head_ was a complete head-dress, including cap and

lappets, or pinners.

[4.19]

#facetious# pleasant, obliging.

[4.20]

#Birth-night# the ball on the evening of the king’s birth-day.

[4.21]

#shroff# banker. Omy Chund’s name is more correctly spelt Amin Chand.

[4.22]

#Train# artillery.

CHAPTER V FOOTNOTES.

[5.01]

#sicca# the sicca rupee was worth 2s. 6d., the ordinary one 2s. 3d.

[5.02]

#bedgown# a loose jacket of coloured cotton.

[5.03]

#molly# malli.

[5.04]

#Moors# Hindustani.

[5.05]

#dufter-conna# daftar-khana.

[5.06]

#Loll Baug# _lal Bagh_=red garden.

[5.07]

#gwallers# bearers.

[5.08]

#dessert# the ball-supper was called dessert.

[5.09]

#Sucajunk ... Phousdar of Purranea ... Gosseta# Purranea=Parnia.

Sucajunk is an ingenious rendering of Shaukat Jang. Gosseta should be

spelt Ghasiti, and Phousdar Faujdar.

[5.10]

#Moradda Dowlett# Murad-u-Daula.

[5.11]

#ginanah# zenana.

[5.12]

#Mr Fraser# the name is carefully crossed out in the original.

[5.13]

#Buzars# Bazars.

[5.14]

#Gyria# Gheriah.

[5.15]

#knots# mazes.

CHAPTER VII FOOTNOTES.

[7.01]

#Burraduan# Bardwan.

[7.02]

#Narransing# Narain Sing.

[7.03]

#Jemmautdar# Jemadar.

[7.04]

#chokey# waterside custom-house.

[7.05]

#pycar# native broker.

[7.06]

#Sydabad# Saidabad.

[7.07]

#Someroo# Walter Reinhardt or Reynaud, an Alsatian by birth, known to

the French as Sombre, and to the natives as Samru.

CHAPTER IX FOOTNOTES.

[9.01]

#hookers# huqa.

[9.02]

#Sykes# Sikhs.

[9.03]

#make over to you for her use the sum of five thousand pounds# a

similar instance of generosity is recorded of an elderly suitor of the

beautiful Miss Linley. The lady afterwards became the wife of Richard

Brinsley Sheridan.

[9.04]

#buxerries# bakhsharis.

[9.05]

#coffle# _kafila_=caravan.

[9.06]

#Facquier# Fakir.

CHAPTER X FOOTNOTES.

[10.01]

#Rajamaul# Rajmahal.

[10.02]

#Aume-beg# Omar or Emir Beg.

[10.03]

#mounsee# munshi.

[10.04]

#arasdass# arzdasht.

[10.05]

#cossids# kasids.

[10.06]

#tuszaconna# toshakhana.

[10.07]

#Cotwal# _Katwal_, the head of the town police.

[10.08]

#hircara# _harkara_, spy or messenger.

CHAPTER XI FOOTNOTES.

[11.01]

#pawn# _pan_. Miss Freyne’s mistake is excusable, for in her day

betel was spelt beetle.

[11.02]

#puckery# pagri.

[11.03]

#mulchilca# machalka.

[11.04]

#Esplanade# the open space surrounding the factory.

[11.05]

#petted# piqued; cf. ‘in a pet.’

[11.06]

#deloll# dallal.

[11.07]

#top# tope.

[11.08]

#buckshy# _bakhshi_, lit. paymaster.

[11.09]

#Piccard# also spelt Picard, Paccard, and Pischard.

[11.10]

#Bungulo# bungalow.

[11.11]

#Doddalay# also spelt Doddaly, Dodalay, and Dodley. Is it possible

that the ship’s name was Dudley?

CHAPTER XII FOOTNOTES.

[12.01]

#shamsingees# probably a kind of blunderbuss fired from a stand.

[12.02]

#bercundauzes# barkandaz.

[12.03]

#seerpaws# apparently _siropa_--_i.e._, a robe from head to foot.

[12.04]

#15 feet square# “A cube of about 18 feet” (Holwell); “18 feet long

and 14 feet wide” (Cooke).

[12.05]

#a good hundred and fifty# Holwell’s final calculation makes the

number 146.

CHAPTER XIII FOOTNOTES.

[13.01]

#Mudden# Madan.

[13.02]

#Marrato# Marhata.

[13.03]

#sewaury# _sowari_--_i.e._, retinue.

[13.04]

#Buxey# Bakhshi.

[13.05]

#It may be that the Buxey has used Mrs Carey...# Dr Busteed doubts

whether Mrs Carey was ever sent to Murshidabad, but her contemporaries

were fully persuaded of the fact.

[13.06]

#rain which began on the night of our sufferings# the rains are

generally said to have begun on the night of the 21st, but Holwell

mentions that on emerging from the Black Hole he lay on the _wet_

grass.

[13.07]

#hackery# this, we are told, was a chaise drawn by two trotting oxen,

and provided for the Admiral at the public expense.

CHAPTER XIV FOOTNOTES.

[14.01]

#Misery Bye# Misri Bai. _Misri_=sugar-candy.

[14.02]

#louchees# _lutis_ (?).

[14.03]

#hallicores# I have been unable to identify this word. It is also

spelt _hallachores_. The _harri_ or _hallicore_ caste is described as

the dregs both of _Musselmen_ and _Gentoos_, speaking _Pariar_

Portuguese.--Ed.

[14.04]

#hussy# housewife.

[14.05]

#campaign against the Phousdar of Purranea# the exact date of the

beginning of this campaign is not stated.

[14.06]

#Nezmennessa Beebee# probably Nijm-ul-Nissa, _i.e._, star of women.

CHAPTER XV FOOTNOTES.

[15.01]

#Tannasery# Tenasserim.

[15.02]

#Tellinghy# from Telingana, _i.e._, the Telugu country, whence most of

the Sepoys were recruited at this time.

[15.03]

#French house at Sydabad# the French factory near Murshidabad.

[15.04]

#Captain Coote# afterwards Sir Eyre Coote.

[15.05]

#Adlercron’s Regiment# this was the old 39th, the present Dorsetshire

Regiment.

[15.06]

#Cossipore# Kasipur.

[15.07]

#Coja Petruce# Khoja Petrus.

[15.08]

#haubitzer# howitzer.

[15.09]

#Siab# sahib.

[15.10]

#tyre# tier.

CHAPTER XVI FOOTNOTES.

[16.01]

#muster# pattern.

[16.02]

#Persic# Persian was the language of the Moguls, or ruling race among

the Mohammedans, and therefore that also of Courts and diplomacy.

[16.03]

#milaner# this spelling exhibits the derivation of the word.

[16.04]

#Salabatzing# Salabad Jang.

[16.05]

#our new great fleet under Lally wasn’t far off# this fleet did not

really arrive until 1758.

[16.06]

#a whisper from Omy Chund# there is no evidence to show who was the

real betrayer of Hastings’ plot.

CHAPTER XVII FOOTNOTES.

[17.01]

#Augadeep# Aghadip.

[17.02]

#Phousdar Nuncomar# the notorious Nanda Kumar of later days.

[17.03]

#Bawboo# Babu.

[17.04]

#Shaw# Shah.

[17.05]

#Calcapore# the Dutch factory near Murshidabad.

[17.06]

#Pitans and Afguhans# Pathans and Afghans. Possibly Afghaun is the

spelling aimed at.

[17.07]

#Kella# Killa.

[17.08]

#Huzzoor Nevees# _Hazur Nawiz_--_i.e._, court secretary.

[17.09]

#Sanskerreet# Sanscrit.

[17.10]

#Mr Laws# The French agent at Murshidabad, and nephew of the famous

financier. Why Law of Lauriston should have been called Laws is a

mystery, but the custom was so well established that the native form

of his name was Lāss.

[17.11]

#Terrano# Terraneau.

[17.12]

#Billy Speke ... sustaining an injury that is like to be mortal# Young

William Speke died at Calcutta shortly afterwards from the effects of

his wound.

[17.13]

#Balagerow# Balaji Rao.

[17.14]

#Armiral Dilleer-jing-behauder# Dilir Jang Bahadar.

[17.15]

#sopha# divan.

[17.16]

#Merzee Mundee# Mirza Mehdi.

[17.17]

#Rajamahol# Rajmahal.

[17.18]

#Palassy# Plassey.

[17.19]

#Moonloll# Mohan Lal.

[17.20]

#Godar Yar Caun Laitty# Khuda Yar Latif Khan.

[17.21]

#Boglipore# Bhagalpur.

[17.22]

#boxwaller# pedlar.

[17.23]

#dussutary# _dasturi_=commission.

[17.24]

#Govindroy# Gobind Rai.

[17.25]

#Badgerow# Baji Rao, a form of Balaji Rao.

[17.26]

#lol coggedge# _lal kaghaz_=red paper.

[17.27]

#Meerum# Miran.

[17.28]

#Maudipore# Madhupur.

CHAPTER XVIII FOOTNOTES.

[18.01]

#loll addama# The English soldiers were so called, either from their

sunburnt faces, or, more probably, their red coats.

[18.02]

#Farashdanga ... Zubdatook Toojah# Farashdanga was the native name of

Chandernagore, and Zubdatook Toojah that of Renault, its chief.

CHAPTER XIX FOOTNOTES.

[19.01]

#Moneloll# Mohan Lal.

[19.02]

#Saubut Jung Behader# Sabat Jang Bahadar, the name given to Clive.

[19.03]

#The bird of Paradise ... the oak and the primrose# The allusion is

evidently to “Obidah and the Hermit,” in No. 65 of the

‘Rambler.’

CHAPTER XX FOOTNOTES.

[20.01]

#juggies# _jogis_.

[20.02]

#Jelingeer# Jalingi.

[20.03]

#Mr Hastings ... Like Mr Fraser he’s a new-married man# the date

1756, usually given for Hastings’ first marriage, is impossible if,

as is stated by his biographers, the bride was the widow of the

Captain Campbell killed at the capture of Baj-baj.

[20.04]

#loll pultun# lal Paltan--_i.e._, red regiment.

[20.05]

#panjammers# paijamas.

[20.06]

#Mr Watts is minded to accompany the army# Malleson, misreading an

ambiguous sentence of Broome’s, says that Mr Watts remained at

Kalna, but his own memoirs state decisively that he was present at

Plassey.

[20.07]

#Agey# Ajai.

[20.08]

#Placis# Plassey.

CHAPTER XXI FOOTNOTES.

[21.01]

#the army was to commence its advance at daybreak# Clive’s sudden

change of plan, which is left unexplained by most writers, is

accounted for by Ives and Scrafton as in the text.

[21.02]

#hovitzes# howitzers.

[21.03]

#Modin# Madan.

[21.04]

#Doudpaur# Daûdpur.

[21.05]

#Moraudbaug# Muradbagh.

[21.06]

#nuzzer# nasr.

[21.07]

#Berbohm# Birbaum.

[21.08]

#Nudiah# Nadiya.

[21.09]

#pucker# pakka.

[21.10]

#calling myself Mrs before others tired of calling me Miss# Spinster

ladies of a certain age were still called Mrs.

[21.11]

#a suitable monument to their common memory# This monument was

erected, but was destroyed in 1821, apparently by the vandalism of the

Little Englanders of the period.

[21.12]

#pathetic# pathos.

[End of Footnotes]

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES.

Sydney C. Grier was the pseudonym of Hilda Caroline Gregg.

This book is part of the author’s “Indian Historical Series.” The full

series, in order, being:

In Furthest Ind

Like Another Helen

The Great Proconsul

Note: _#_ is used in the plain-text version of this book to indicate

bolded text.

Alterations to the text:

Adjust a few letter headings to maintain uniform formatting.

Note: minor spelling and hyphenization inconsistencies (_e.g._

postscriptum/post-scriptum, writing-implements/writing implements,

etc.) have been preserved.

[Title Page]

Add a brief note indicating this book’s position in the series. See

above.

[Footnotes]

Relabel footnote markers, collect footnotes at end of text, and add

an entry to the TOC.

[Chapter I]

Change “as I heard _say_ on my voyage home” to _said_.

“I leave the _mattter_ with” to _matter_.

[Chapter V]

“rewarding my _inqusitiveness_” to _inquisitiveness_.

[Chapter VIII]

“two men like the _lieuteuant_” to _lieutenant_.

[Chapter IX]

“talk with Miss Freyne will never never be done” delete one _never_.

[Chapter X]

“acquainted with _Captain’s_ Colquhoun’s generous conduct” to

_Captain_.

[Chapter XI]

“his skilful _diposition_ of his men” to _disposition_.

[Chapter XII]

“had the prudence to _made_ his escape with the President” to _make_.

[Chapter XVII]

“with the _carrriage_ of his despatches” to _carriage_.

[Chapter XVIII]

“But I _wont_ speak hardly of one to” to _won’t_.

“nay, _there’s some are_ plotting to do so at this moment” to _there

are some_.

“I became sensible that there _was_ eyes regarding me” to _were_.

[Chapter XX]

“and _every_ the most ordinary sound that reached me” to _even_.

[End of Text]