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
to keep myself from thinking. And Mr Martin, seeing this, cast about
for some means to relieve me, but found none at first. But at length,
perceiving that the ceremony and sociableness of the life in the
Factory was very displeasing to me, he spake to Mr President in my
behalf, and gat me appointed to a post in our house at Amidavat.[100]
Now this is a town that lies some way inland from Surat, on the road
to the emperor’s great city of Agra, and a place of some importance.
And sending me here, where there was but two or three white men beside
myself, he trusted I should find the solitude I desired, for ’tis a
strange thing in the Indies that when you are once become accustomed
to the native Indosthans around you, you heed their presence little
more than if they were dogs or cats.
I went, then, to Amidavat, being grateful to my good friend for his
kindness, but guessing little of his sorrow on parting with me, that
was like a son to him. “_He must needs goe that the devill drives_,
Ned,” says he to me, with the water standing in his eyes, the while he
bid me farewell; “and I fear lest the devil had driven you into some
harm, had you abode here. At Amidavat, whither you go, there is more
hard work, and less chance of evil companions, but you may come to
ruin even there, if you will let the devil drive you, instead of
yourself driving him away.”
Now I don’t purpose to describe particularly the three years that I
did spend at Amidavat, for although, through the goodness of God, I
did not come to ruin, yet I approached tolerably near thereto, falling
under the assault of such temptations as everywhere await a young man
when he hath some time of his own, and little hope nor fixed faith for
to guide him past ’em. It seemed to me that my life was ended, or at
least all the happiness on’t, before it was well begun, and that I had
naught to which to look forward, and this bred in me such a coldness
and deadness of spirit as made me do ill because I had no care to do
well. And yet, although in these three years I did many things the
recollection whereof now makes me sorry, and many also whereof I am
now ashamed, it is false to say that I behaved myself unfaithfully
towards my employers, or that I was at all slack as regarded business.
For with respect to the first, the confidence wherewith I was
afterwards honoured by the Committee is a sufficient answer, and for
the second, that my own wealth grew in a surprising manner. To heap up
money, that I might fulfil my father’s desire, was now my only
endeavour, and ’twas to fill up the hours when I could not well be
making money, that I resorted to those pursuits whereto I have
alluded. And moreover, for my credit’s sake, I must say also this,
that even in my most desponding and careless hours, the recollection
of Madam Heliodora and her last words to me would come back into my
mind, and this remembrance did hold me back from some sins that I
might otherwise have committed.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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