Like Another Helen

by Sydney C. Grier

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 19th.

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[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,[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 18th.

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.[11] Is there no pathetic[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.”