Like Another Helen

by Sydney C. Grier

But this last outbreak of the inconstant Prince has persuaded all that have to do with him that there’s no confidence to be placed in any of his assurances, and this sentiment has now spread from the British to his own courtiers, whom he has used with the utmost arrogance, heaping insults upon the Buxey, Meer Jaffier, who married his great-aunt, fining Monickchund and throwing him into prison for stealing a portion of the Calcutta plunder, placing his worthless favourite Moonloll[19] over the head of Roydoolub, and keeping the Seats in a perpetual apprehension lest he may deprive them suddenly of their wealth. Questionless, the youthful tyrant has prepared his own destruction. A week ago Mr Watts was approached by a Mogul named Godar Yar Caun Laitty,[20] who commands 2000 horse in the Soubah’s service, but is entertained by the Seats to protect them in case of danger, and was acting now upon their motion. This person, opening his mind to Omichund, who was sent to confer with him, proposed that when the Soubah, who was about to take the field at Patna against the Pitans, had started on his campaign, the British should assist Roydoolub and the Seats to seize Muxidavad, and immediately make Yar Caun Laitty Nabob, in return for which he would enter into any engagements we pleased. Almost before Mr Watts had imparted this notion to the Presidency, there comes also the Armenian Coja Petruce, bringing the same proposition from Meer Jaffier, and he having so much larger a force at his command Mr Watts inclines to him.

As though to prevent any sentiment of compunction on our part for thus plotting against him, the Nabob has thought fit to exhibit again the utmost hostility towards us. In place of removing his army from Palassy, as Colonel Clive requested him, he has patched up a peace with Meer Jaffier and sent him there with reinforcements for it. At the same time, having heard from his spy Mooteram the absurd report that in spite of his stopping Captain Grant’s detachment at Cutwah, we had half our army concealed at Cossimbuzar, he sent a mob of servants and troops to search the factory, but they found there only forty Europeans, of whom twenty were the artillerymen that were lent to him in February. More than this, we learn that he has wrote to Mr Laws requesting him to remain with his men at Boglipore[21] as his guests until he sends for them, and that he is despatching Sinzaun afresh to Mr Bussey to promise him twenty laacks of rupees if he’ll come to his assistance, while he has stopped with stakes the entire breadth of the Cossimbuzar River at Sootey, twenty miles below this place, with the design of preventing the passage of our ships, of whose armament he cherishes the wildest notions, although they could never come up so far. Thus, madam, we are placed between an infuriated despot and a parcel of timid conspirators, all afraid the one of t’other, Meer Jaffier refusing to trust Omichund and the Seats jealous of him, while Yar Caun Laitty may at any moment revenge himself for being set aside by revealing the whole affair. ...

Madam, I must add one word to the end of this letter. We have hope at last. Mirza Shaw has just approached me with an air of the utmost secrecy, and informed me that last night he tracked Sinzaun in disguise to an obscure house on the outskirts of the city, where, as he learns from the gossip of the neighbourhood, he entertains a lady whom he has given out as his ward. She is called Nezmennessa Beeby, but she is very white, and wears an outlandish dress, so that they believe her a woman either of Persia or Cashmere, and Sinzaun talks with her through a curtain with great respect. So cautious is the fellow that no one in the vicinity knows who he is, but they believe him to be a slave-merchant, who intends a most delicate gift for the Nabob. Oh, madam, picture to yourself the horror of the situation! What’s to be done? We can’t be sure that this lady is Miss Freyne, and to rescue the wrong captive would but plunge us in fresh difficulties. How to obtain a sight of her, open communication with her—above all, how to release her? But of that I can say more when the Tartar has conducted me to-night to view the house.

May ye 23rd.

I am conscious, madam, that you’ll be justly indignant with me for leaving you so long in suspense after the affecting news contained in my last letter, though indeed I have put off writing from day to day in hopes to find something certain to communicate to you, but in vain. On the night after my letter was despatched, Mirza Shaw attended me to the house of which he had spoken, both of us wearing the Moorish dress, and we traced its extent and examined the outside walls, which are high and in good repair, and (as is common with the houses here) destitute of any openings by which a secret entrance might be effected. The only means that suggested itself to me for scaling them was a ladder of ropes furnished with a hook at one end, which might be thrown over the summit of the wall, and catching there afford us an ascent, but the Tartar objected very pertinently that without knowing who was to be found on the other side of the wall we might well terminate our lives and our hopes of rescuing Miss Freyne at once in our first attempt. Other expedients we discussed, without finding any that commended itself to our prudence, and we left it at last that Mirza Shaw was to linger in the vicinity of the house, and representing himself as a boxwaller,[22] insinuate himself into the confidence of the servants, and so perhaps gain access to Nezmennessa Beeby herself, or at least discover who she may really be.

This prudent decision has met with an incredible want of success, and I fear that had it not been for the threatening posture of public affairs your correspondent, madam, would have brought the entire enterprise to destruction by rushing hastily upon some solution of the difficulty. But events of importance have followed so close upon one another, and Mr Watts has found it needful to make such constant demands upon my humble services as scribe, that even the question of Miss Freyne’s release has been occasionally driven from the forefront of my mind. Nine days ago Mr Watts arrived at an agreement through Coja Petruce as to the treaty to be made between Meer Jaffier and the British, the Buxey assenting to all our demands, but repeating his entreaty that Omichund should not be informed of the affair. In this Mr Watts endeavoured to content him, but the old Gentoo had already been told too much to render it possible to keep him in ignorance, and was also anxious to know why no favourable answer was to be given to Yar Caun Laitty, whose proposals had at first been so warmly entertained. Finding that the disclosure could not be avoided, Mr Watts at length unfolded to him the compact with Meer Jaffier, which has roused in Omichund an implacable hatred, since he could not fail to perceive that the explication was only extorted by necessity. This passion he gratified immediately by threatening to disclose the entire scheme to the Nabob, unless the possession of one-sixth of that Prince’s jewels, and a huge dussutary[23] besides on the rest of the spoils, were secured to him by the treaty. This Mr Watts was unable to promise on his own authority, but, soothing the traitor with agreeable words, referred the matter to the Select Committee at Calcutta, while Omichund took occasion to exhibit that wild prodigality of deceitfulness in which he takes delight. Obtaining access to the Nabob, he informed him very circumstantially that he had discovered a plot between the English and Mr Bussey, who were about to unite their forces with the object of hurling him from the throne. Absurd though such a notion is, it commended itself to the Nabob, who rewarded Omichund by ordering the repayment to him of a sum of money which he had lent so long before as almost to have lost hope of receiving it again, and this was an ample satisfaction to the wily Gentoo, although Surajah Dowlah was undeceived almost immediately by the arrival of the news that Mr Bussey, far from allying himself with us, was reported by advices from Ballisore to be five days’ journey this side of Cuttack, marching against us with 700 Europeans and 5000 Seapoys.

Immediately after this, Mr Scrafton arrived suddenly from Calcutta, bearing a letter that had been delivered to Colonel Clive by a stranger Gentoo known to none of the gentlemen there, and giving his name as Govindroy.[24] This letter purported to be from the Maharattor leader Badgerow,[25] offering the Colonel an alliance for the purpose of crushing the Nabob, and it fell in so pat with our desires that no one could consent to accept it as genuine, all conceiving it to be a trick of Surajah Dowlah’s to entrap us. In this difficulty, Colonel Clive took the courageous step of sending the letter to the Nabob as a proof of our good faith, but he designed to reap the additional advantage from Mr Scrafton’s journey of establishing communications with Meer Jaffier, who had proceeded unwillingly with his army to Palassy after the Soubah’s feigned reconciliation with him. In this, however, Mr Scrafton was anticipated by the Nabob’s spies, who (whether guessing his intention or not I can’t say) turned him back and forced him to take the straight road, but the Soubah, receiving the letter, appeared much moved by the confidence reposed in him by the British, and also by the affecting remonstrances on his late unfriendly behaviour addressed to him by the Colonel, so that he ordered Meer Jaffier with his army to return to Muxidavad. But the unsteady Prince is now too late in this last change of front.

Of the course which the Council at Calcutta have thought fit to adopt with regard to Omichund’s unjust demands I can’t speak with certainty, but I fear I have a very fair notion of it. Four days back a messenger of the country brought to Mr Watts the treaty drawn up and signed by the Council, ready for presentation to Meer Jaffier, and the good gentleman enlarged to Dr Dacre and myself with a good deal of merriment on the clauses which had been added at Calcutta, stipulating for donations of money, in excess of the sums named in restitution of last year’s losses, not only to the army and the fleet, but also to each member of the Council. There was no mention of Omichund’s name, which surprised me, but before I could remark on the omission Omichund himself was announced, when Mr Watts immediately doubled up the treaty and thrust it into his breast.

“Be so good as to pass me that lol coggedge,[26] Mr Fraser,” he said, indicating a red paper that had been in the same pacquet with the white one he had just concealed. Glancing carelessly at it, I perceived that ’twas another copy of the treaty, but with a clause added, in which I saw Omichund’s name.

“Sure there’s something wrong here, sir,” I said, looking at the list of signatures; “I could swear that Admiral Watson never writ his name in that style.”