My dear Doctor,
I will not afflict you by drawing a picture of my situation, or of the wretched scarecrow grief and sickness have reduced me to; but I must tell you that I am nearly blind, and this is probably the last letter I shall be able to write to you: indeed, no other will be necessary.
I have received your letters of September the 17th and October the 18th of last year. What tricks played upon me, who have sacrificed everything to what I thought right! X., upon his arrival here, gave out to everybody, a month before I saw him, that he was the bearer of important letters from persons of the first consequence, and that he was sent to see into and settle my affairs. When he presented himself to me, he said that B. wrote to him to go to Syria, and Aug. sent him, and that his expenses were defrayed by the Sharky, and that everything would be as I could wish, and more than I could wish; at least, as far as I had expressed. As for his having become guarantee for my debts, or having advanced me £1400, with the promise shortly of £5000 more, it is all pure invention. He did say that he had written to order a box of jewels, worth 20, or 25,000 piasters, to be sent to a merchant here, to be sold on my account: and he said also he should send a letter of credit from Constantinople for 100 purses, for me to go on with until an express could arrive from England. The money he was to draw from his mercantile house; and he told me I need not be uneasy about it, as he should be paid instantly upon his arrival in England. He talked about its being his duty, &c. I certainly believed all this, but have never seen a farthing. What he said to your friend, Mr. Vondiziano, of Cyprus, I know not; but Mr. V. offered to send me 2000 dollars, which I accepted, and gave a note for six months, as desired, and the time of payment is now nine months past. X. moreover assured me, that in England nothing had been well understood, excepting only that all was wonder and approbation. He said that he should return here with all that I wanted, and should bring with him bricklayers, carpenters, &c., to enlarge my house and premises, as many great people would be coming who were anxious to see me: so that not a ship appears in sight but poor and rich fly to the seaside, shout and bare their heads, praying that it may be my ship; for all know my distress, and that I shall live upon charity. According to the ideas of the East, they expect to see a great box of money, left me by my brother, and the contents of his store-room, and all his pots and pans. It would not, therefore, be prudent for X. to return here. He would fare ill, and I should not know what to say. Should he arrive, I shall not see him; for he must be either a spy, a swindler, or a scapegoat for lies; and none of these characters do I wish to have anything to do with.
Poor Williams knows nothing of all this, except that I am in debt, and in expectation of money which is to come; for X. told everybody so: but she is at times uneasy about the future, and so on. All is right with her: she is strictly honest, but ignorant, having been a spoiled child, doing only what she thought proper, and never having learned household affairs. Yet, had she not been here, everything would have been much worse; as all, you know, are thieves, or wasteful, destroying beasts, unthankful, improvident, and whom it is impossible to teach any thing, or to make listen to reason or common sense.
Write to B., or call upon him until you see him. Do not give it up; but, until you have seen him, say not a word of my letters to any one. Let B. take notes, and speak to Aug.—not you. Let prudence and silence be the order of the day with you, and even with the Sharky of all nations you sometimes dine with. B. is a pure one, by birthright. I believe X. has acted by command, like others; therefore, in my heart, I am not angry with him; yet I will not see him.
Now, here are my orders and ultimatum. We will suppose two cases. If X.’s story is true, and my debts, amounting to £10,000, or nearly, are to be paid, then I shall go on making sublime and philosophical discoveries, and employing myself in deep, abstract studies; although, as my strength is gone, I cannot work day and night, as I have done. In that case, I shall want a mason, a carpenter, a ploughman, a gardener, groom, cowman, doctor, &c.; so that I must have assistance: income made out, £4000 a year, and £1000 more, for persons like you, that I should want, and £5000 ready money, for provisions, building, animals, money in hand, &c., that I may start clear. In the second case, in the event that all that has been told me is a lie, then let me be disowned publicly, now and hereafter, and left to my fate and faith alone: for, if I have not a right to what I want, which is in the hands of Messrs. Sharky and Co., I will have nothing. Nothing else will I hear of; and grief has departed from my soul since I have taken the following resolution.
I shall give up everything for life, that I may now or hereafter possess in Europe, to my creditors, and throw myself as a beggar upon Asiatic humanity, and wander far without one para in my pocket, with the mare from the stable of Solomon in one hand, and a sheaf of the corn of Beni-Israel in the other. I shall meet death, or that which I believe to be written, which no mortal hand can efface. There is nothing else to be done. I shall wait for no dawdling letters, or fabrication of lies, of which, for these five years, I have had enough. The will of God be done! I shall cheerfully follow my fate, and defy them all. For what are they without me? In the long run, they will see. But I have too lofty a soul not to observe the strictest line of honour towards even my enemies.
Dear little Adams! I have never written to that joher;[8] but all the past is written in my heart. I only waited till the cloud of my misery had dispersed, to let him know I was not ungrateful. Should it please God to deliver me out of the hands of my cruel brethren, as Joseph was delivered, then he will know—and you will know—what are my feelings of gratitude. Forgive me, forgive me, if I have injured you involuntarily! Oh! my God! perhaps, I have been the cause of your ruin. I have wept and wept; but tears will not feed the little children. Alas! my only trust is in Heaven.
You meant to do well, so I will not scold: but why apply without leave to the Fat or the Thin, or why talk to —— of my concerns? What is —— to me? I never could endure him. I know him well—a low-minded, chitter-chattering fellow: but suppose him an angel, had you my leave to consult or speak to him?—it is not likely. But, in the event of the Fat or the Thin’s having placed any money in the hands of my bankers, let them take it back again.... You have no explanations to make, only that I decline it. Under no circumstances, I repeat, will I owe any obligation to the Fat, to the Thin, to Canning, or his friends, or have anything to do with Sir Vanity. I say this, as I have heard of new plans of his. He may perhaps mean to come here;—if to-morrow, I shall shut my door in his face. If any force, consular force, is ever tried with me, I shall use force in return, and appeal to the populace to defend me. It is right this should be known. I am no slave, and I disown all such authority. Never will I be brought to England but in chains, and never will I be made to act differently from that which my will dictates, whilst there is breath in my body: therefore, to attempt to oppose me is vain. I am up to all their tricks, and it is time there should be an end of them.
If —— calls, say you have had a letter, in which I express my great astonishment that you should have spoken to him of my affairs, as they do not concern him in any way, and that I insist upon it that you should be perfectly silent in future; so he must not take it ill. Tell him that, strange to say, I decline all assistance from my family—persons, whom I have had no communication with for years, or ever shall have; and if he asks what I am to do, say you don’t know—that she knows best. I fear by and by that everything will be in the newspapers. These sort of men talk before servants to show their importance; all goes to grooms, footmen, and coachmen. I have traced all that before. One would think you were mad to forget all I have said to you on those subjects.