Yours, ever,
L. Howard.
LETTER XI.
General Douglas to Mr. Otway.
My dear old Friend,
Calcutta.
Were I less acquainted than I am with what was once Edward Otway, I could not dare to address a line with any hope of being remembered after the lapse which has occurred since last I wrote to you. I almost dread to look back and mark the time; I fear too that I should not advance a very satisfactory apology in declaring that I have been equally silent to all the European world. I am in this dilemma. I will therefore make no effort at defence or explanation, but proceed to tell you my present object in applying to you. A short time ago I wrote to my old friend Ingoldsby, one of the East India Directors to the like effect; but it may be prudent to provide against casualties, and therefore be it known to you, that with a constitution much shattered through vicissitudes of climate, and a mind somewhat jaundiced by disappointment, I am turning my face towards England, which I hope to reach in about six months after you receive this announcement of my design. Though I speak of disappointment I am not poor; on the contrary I have amassed more money than enough to secure all the luxuries, as well as comforts of life, for my remaining term; but I have lived in banishment from all that ought to have been dear to me; I have lost my health, seen little but wickedness in my early intercourse with mankind, and, now arrived at a premature old age, I look on the past without pleasure, and to the future divested of hope. I have for some time been determined to return, but found my pecuniary circumstances in much need of winding up; and having learned, through sad experience, to distrust the people in whose rectitude I had principally confided, I resolved on an arduous undertaking, which was no other than to go myself first to Delhi, and thence across the country to Bombay, hoping not only to settle my affairs in the best manner, but to retrieve my health by change of air and scene. The first object I have in a great measure achieved, but my liver is deranged, my digestive powers are so impaired that I almost despair of cure, and my spirits are gone. Here is a sorry picture; but to business. If this should find you in England, I wish your own taste to be employed, and if you are in Ireland, that of any friend on whose judgment you can rely, in the purchase of a snug demesne, well wooded, well watered, and having a handsome, commodious house, in an airy situation, into which I may step as soon as possible after landing. As well as I recollect my own impressions, I liked Hampshire, Staffordshire, and Warwickshire, better than any other parts of the country, and I have no objection to go as far as forty or fifty thousand pounds; it must be fee simple property, and in a rich, cultivated district. Order whatever furniture you think suitable, and let me find a travelling carriage, five or six good horses, and a few servants to begin with.—Dear Otway forgive me if I am giving you a great deal of trouble; but Ingoldsby is a fixture in town, and I know so little of my relations, that I am hardly aware to whom I could give these commissions. The Howards, I conclude, are flourishing, for I believe that when my poor brother took the name he got a pretty estate. Of the Douglas family I have lost sight, and as I have long enjoyed the privilege (no small one I promise you) of being considered an oddity, I mean to preserve the character, and choose for myself amongst the people I may meet with. I hate consanguinity. It is a cursed plague to have a set of needy folks continually pressing about one, whose claims are supported by relationship, and whose cares are generally directed by self-interest. I have lived too long, and seen too much to be bamboozled, though I do not mean to be uncivil. Poor Henry might have made a fortune had he taken my advice, and come out to India according to my suggestion; he was my favourite brother, and I should have found both pride and pleasure in providing handsomely for him; but so absurd a marriage as his naturally alienates a prudent man. Poor fellow! I never answered his letters, and looked on him as my son; for he was several years my junior, and felt his resistance to my advice. I never saw his wife, nor any of his children, who have all been born since I came from Europe, and though I do feel sorry that he died without any act of reconciliation on my part; though I intend also to settle something on his family if they are in want; yet I certainly cannot blame myself for having shewn a well merited resentment at conduct so highly injurious to himself, and obstinate towards me. It is all over now, and I may perhaps follow him ere long; yet, while we are here, it is human nature to deplore that folly which blights the happiest anticipations in the bud. No man knows the value of money so well as he who has made it for himself. If you know where poor Mrs. H. Douglas and her family are, I shall thank you to let me hear of their retreat, and believe me, my dear Otway, with best wishes for a happy meeting,
Your very sincere old friend,
Fred. Aubrey Douglas.
END OF VOL. I
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