In furthest Ind : $b The narrative of Mr Edward Carlyon of the honourable East India Company's serviceGrier, Sydney C.
General
In furthest Ind : $b The narrative of Mr Edward Carlyon of the honourable East India Company's service
Grier, Sydney C.
British -- India -- Fiction; East India Company -- Fiction; India -- Fiction
“Yet to accomplish it,” says my lord, “I must needs secure myself from
the jealous interference of those in France, that consider they know
more of Indian matters than I, who am in the Indies. As you may have
perceived, sir, some of my officers are badly affected towards me, and
seek every pretext to write calumnies against me to the minister. I
can say truly that I don’t fear their machinations so long as I am
acquainted with ’em beforehand, and yet it an’t consistent with my
quality, nor with the high dignity that his majesty hath conferred
upon me, to mingle with these persons and find out their intentions
for myself. I need some person in my following that will be one of ’em
and yet a faithful friend to me. Once” (and he looked at me) “I
thought that I had found such an one, but now I fear that fortune was
but deluding me once more. Is such a situation as this beneath your
expectations and your hopes, Mr Carlyon?”
“Indeed, my lord, ’tis so high above ’em that I can’t at present think
on’t calmly,” said I.
“You would gain,” says he, “experience and wisdom, and much honour
withal. Wealth likewise, but I won’t injure you by supposing that that
could move you. And there are other rewards, greater, such as one
names not in words, but which await the trusted helper,” here he
looked me again full in the face, so that my eyes fell before his.
“Come, sir,” saith he, mighty encouraging, “can you hesitate? You gain
so much in joining yourself to us, and lose so little, merely a king
that can’t provide a place for you, though your father spent all he
had in his service, and a desk and many years of weary work in the
Surat Factory.”
“Ay, my lord,” says I, “and much beside.”
“Pooh, pooh!” says my lord sharply, “you are too nice and too
calculating, sir. What is there that renders your services at Surat so
valuable that they would be missed should you accept of my offer?”
“My lord,” says I, “the meanest Englishman hath three things to
consider--viz., his honour, his soul, and his body--whereof the last
is precious to his friends, the second to God, and the first to
himself. Under your lordship’s leave, I believe that I should put in
jeopardy all three of these, did I accept of your most obliging offer,
and I must therefore ask humbly to be allowed to decline it.”
“Now, by my faith!” cried his lordship, “will you talk of your body in
the same breath with your honour, sir? You do yourself wrong, Mr
Carlyon, by these barbarous notions. Come, think over my proposition.
I will give you fifteen days for’t. Until then we will say nothing,
but I hope to find you then less blind to your own advantage. You must
perceive how highly I esteem you, by my daughter’s admitting you so
continually to her saloon. Is it possible that after a sojourn of some
weeks at St Thomas, you can look forward to return with contentment to
your life at Surat? There is, as I understand, no ladies there whose
company you may enjoy as you have done that of my family.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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