IN FURTHEST IND

THE NARRATIVE OF MR EDWARD CARLYON OF THE HONOURABLE EAST INDIA COMPANY’S SERVICE

EDITED, WITH A FEW EXPLANATORY NOTES BY SYDNEY C. GRIER

WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS EDINBURGH AND LONDON MDCCCXCIV All Rights reserved

[NOTE.]

The Narrative of Mr Edward Carlyon of Ellswether, in the County of Northampton, and late of the Honourable East India Company’s Service, Gentleman; and comprising his most marvellous Escape from the Hands of the Inquisition (falsely called Holy) at Goa, and his Journey to the Court of the Great Mogul, likewise the true Relation of his Dealings with the Lord Marquis of Tourvel, and with Madam Heliodora his Daughter (concerning which grievous Calumnies have of late been forged by certain unfriendly Persons), together with divers curious Observations on the Manners of the Indians, and on the Situation of his Majesty’s Subjects at present resident among them. Wrote by his own hand in the year of grace 1697.

TO HIM THAT READS.

I, Edward Carlyon of Ellswether, Esquire, being of sound mind and body (for the which I thank God), do take up my pen on this fourth day of November, sixteen hundred and ninety-seven, to record the history of my life, being moved thereto by divers considerations.

Imprimis. I would desire to protect my children from such tribulation as hath been brought lately upon myself and my dear wife, through the evil offices of an enemy, from which we were hardly delivered by the great kindness of my honoured and esteemed friend, Mr Robert Martin, lately Accountant of Surat in East India.

Item. I would do all that lies in my power to lighten the griefs of an illustrious lady, whose trials, no less than the fortitude with which she hath endured them, would seem to a man of honour to have earned her exemption from cowardly attempts.

Item. During my sojourn in the Indies, I met several marvellous adventures, and had the felicity to enjoy the discourse of many ingenious persons, the recounting whereof may serve both for the instructing and the diverting those that shall come after me. By the advice, therefore, of my aforesaid friend, Mr Robert Martin, I am resolved, God helping me, on composing, from such notes and letters as I have preserved, a book of my life.

CONTENTS.

I. OF MY DESCENT AND PARENTAGE, AND OF MY SENDING TO THE INDIES

II. OF MY TARRYING IN LONDON AND OF MY SAILING IN THE GOOD SHIP BOSCOBEL, AND ALSO OF MY MAKING AN ENEMY IN MR VANE SPENDER

III. OF MY ARRIVING AT SURAT, AND OF THE POSTURE OF AFFAIRS THERE

IV. OF MY SENDING TO GOA BY MY EMPLOYERS, AND OF THOSE THINGS THAT BEFELL ME THERE

V. OF THE EVENTS THAT BEFELL ME ON MY ARREST, AND IN THE HOLY HOUSE AT GOA

VI. OF THE SECRET, DREADFUL, AND BLOODY DOINGS OF THE TRIBUNAL OF THE HOLY INQUISITION

VII. OF MY AMAZING AND MIRACULOUS ESCAPE FROM MOST IMMINENT DEATH

VIII. OF MY SECOND VOYAGE IN THE BOSCOBEL, AND OF THE ENDING THEREOF

IX. OF MY FINDING THE NEW FRANCE IN THE INDIES

X. OF THE CONFIDENCE REPOSED IN ME BY MY LORD, AND OF THE PITFALL WHEREIN I FELL

XI. OF MY CASTING OUT FROM MY FOOL’S PARADISE

XII. OF A PART OF MY LIFE THAT HAD BEEN BETTER SPENT OTHERWISE THAN IT WAS

XIII. OF MY JOURNEYING TO THE CITY OF AGRA; OF MY COMING THITHER, AND OF THE PERSON I FOUND THERE

XIV. OF MY LEAVING THE CITY OF THE GREAT MOGUL IN THE COMPANY OF ONE THAT HAD NOT ENTERED THEREIN WITH ME

XV. OF MY SECOND DELIVERANCE FROM EXTREME PERIL OF DEATH

XVI. OF MY DEPARTING FROM EAST INDIA, AND RETURNING TO MY HOME AND DOROTHY

XVII. OF MY SETTING TO REAP THE HARVEST I HAD SOWN

XVIII. OF MY ATTAINING MY DESIRED HAVEN AFTER LONG TRIAL OF STORMY SEAS

XIX. OF CERTAIN ANCIENT FRIENDS OF MINE THAT WERE SUFFERERS FOR CONSCIENCE’ SAKE

XX. A CHAPTER EXTRAORDINARY, ADDED ON THE ADVICE OF THE AUTHOR’S FRIENDS, FOR TO DECLARE HOW IT COME ABOUT THAT THIS BOOK WAS WROTE

APPENDICES.

I. ON THE NATIVE RACES OF INDIA

II. ON THE SPELLING OF PROPER NAMES

III. ON PRIVATE TRADING BY THE COMPANY’S SERVANTS

IV. ON OLD AND NEW GOA AND MODERN GOA

V. ON THE FRENCH AT SAN THOMÉ

VI. ON THE HISTORICAL BASIS OF THIS STORY

ENDNOTES.

CHAPTER I. OF MY DESCENT AND PARENTAGE, AND OF MY SENDING TO THE INDIES.

It will be convenient for me, before relating my history, to give some account of my birth and parentage, and this I will proceed to do. Our branch of the family of Carlyon, though not of the most illustrious, is at least respectable in its antiquity, having been settled at Ellswether (which at one time belonged to a branch of the noble family of De Lovetot) for the space of four hundred years, ever since the esquire Simon Carlyon wedded Dame Elianora, daughter and heiress to Sir Walter de Lovetot. My honoured father was the fourth and youngest son of Roger Carlyon, Esquire, and Margery Colepepper his wife. Being but a younger son, he quitted his home early, and adventured himself in the wars in foreign parts, together with his cousin, my Lord Brandon. Under the banner of this nobleman my father showed great valour and skill in arms, both in Bohemia and also in the Palatinate, so that his assistance was much sought after by many princes and captains of those parts. But on hearing of the troubles in England, my father accompanied his kinsman to Oxford, to the intent to

place their swords at the disposition of his majesty. It was when on this visit that my father first saw my mother, that was then Mrs Margaret Brodie, daughter to Sir Nicholas Brodie of Rinnington in the county of Durham, and Anne Delamere his wife. In her youth my mother was bred up with a young lady of quality, Mrs Hyacinth Penfold, that was sister’s daughter to my lord Duke of London, and dwelt at his grace’s castle of Belfort in this county. Now when my lady duchess (that was as truly honest a lady in her opinions as ever lived, though his grace her husband was but a trimmer) came to pay her devoirs to the king and queen at Oxford, she carried with her the two young gentlewomen aforesaid, and they were to her as her own daughters.

My Lord Brandon, then, was presented to Mrs Penfold as a match she should do well to accept, though he was well advanced in years, and little beautified by the chances of war, and my father cast his eyes upon the gentlewoman that bare this lady company. And Mrs Brodie, hearing of his feats of arms in the wars of Germany, and finding his person not disagreeable to her, was not loath to look kindly upon her servant.[1] He then, discovering in her not only great beauty of countenance, but also a sweet civility of manner and marvellous parts of mind, did ask her hand of my lady duchess. Who did grant him, with many kind words, the boon he craved; and my father and mother were wedded at the same time and place with my lord and Mrs Penfold, and lived together for over seven years thereafter in the enjoyment of a rare peace and felicity, though troubled on all sides by the evil chances of the time. This same year was memorable for that my father was knighted on the field of battle by the hand of his sacred majesty himself, after a certain skirmish near to the city of Bristow,[2]

since that he did, by his skill in war, save the king’s forces when near to their destruction. ’Twas at Oxford that I was born, in the year 1646, in a mean lodging in a certain poor street of that town, since my mother was afraid to show herself in any more convenient dwelling, and my father durst only visit her secretly by night for fear of capture, my Lord-General Fairfax having but just then took the city.

Shortly after this, also, by the deaths of my uncles, his three brothers (whereof the eldest was slain with my grandfather in that lamentable defeat of my Lord Astley at Stow-on-the-Wold, and the second, having been taken at Leicester the year before, died in prison, and the third was foully murdered in a tumult raised against him in the streets of Northampton), my father found himself possessed of Ellswether—that is to say, of the old house only, whereof all the lands were sold or mortgaged for his majesty’s service. And he, taking up his abode there with my mother and myself, fought still for the king, until that day when the rebels consummated their iniquity by that deed whereof no age hath ever seen the like for its enormity, when he left fighting, being assured that God must shortly punish the whole nation of England with utter destruction. Two years thereafter, notwithstanding, he joined himself to the cause of his majesty King Charles II., and at Worcester Fight was grievously wounded, and lay for many days in danger of his life in a certain mean house of that

city. Being there found by the rebels, he was thrown into a dungeon, but after a while, by the good offices of my lord Duke of London, was released, and suffered to return home, being now incapable of fighting more, for that his left leg had been shot off by a ball from a great gun, and his right arm disabled by a pistol-shot, at Worcester Fight.

In the year 1653 there come sad news to Ellswether. My Lord Brandon, heading a rising for the young king in the North, was taken and beheaded; and my lady his wife, who had wearied herself in vain to obtain his pardon, died after giving birth to a daughter. Their son and heir had died in his infancy, and the barony must needs descend to a distant cousin of my lord’s, that was a boon companion of the king in France and Flanders. My lord’s estates and property was all confiscated, and for the poor babe was nothing left, save that she might have my lady’s gowns and suchlike. My lady had committed her babe to the charge of the gentlewoman that bare her company, desiring that she should be brought to Ellswether, and bred up by my mother. Wherefore this gentlewoman, Mrs Sophronia Skipwith by name, took with her the babe, together with my lady’s gowns and jewels, and the great portraits of her and my lord which he had had painted for her on their wedding, and divers tomes of French and English romances, and started on her journey. Coming to Ellswether, she found there sore

lamentation, for that my dear mother had departed this life two days before. And Sir Harry, my father, finding himself with my Lady Brandon’s babe to keep, and discerning Mrs Skipwith to be a gentlewoman of most discreet conversation and a sobriety suiting her years (which were thirty-five at the least, and rather over than under), did offer her to remain as governess to the babe, the rather as the aforesaid Mrs Skipwith was an orphan and a distant kinswoman of my lady’s. Now if you look to hear that Mrs Skipwith made use of Sir Harry’s kindness to creep into his good graces, and thus marry him thereafter, you shall be disappointed, for she behaved herself throughout her life with a rare discreetness and wisdom, and hath left behind her a memory full of praise.

My good father, then, adopted for his own the little Mrs Dorothy Brandon (whose kinsman, even after the happy Restoration of his majesty King Charles II., when he gat back his lands, never troubled himself to inquire after her, lest for very shame he must settle on her a portion out of the estates of my lord her father), my father, I say, adopted her, intending in due time to marry her to me his son, and we grew up together as brother and sister, but in that prospect. Now at the Restoration, as I have said, there was many received back their confiscated lands, but my father, who (with his brothers) had sold and mortgaged all for the king’s service, gat nothing, since he had done it all willingly. There remained to us, then, only the manor of Ellswether itself, whereon was a heavy mortgage, that was fallen into the hands of Mr Sternhold, the attorney that my grandfather had been wont to employ. And again, if you look to hear in this place that Mr Sternhold proved himself a cruel or an unrighteous creditor, you will again receive a disappointment, for sure there was never no man

that served better either the father or the absent son. But if this great burden of the mortgage was to be removed, it was needful for me to make my fortune, and this in no unspeedy way. And if you shall be surprised that my father allowed me, his only son, to undertake such a distant and dangerous manner of life as that I have followed, I would have you remember that Sir Harry, as was but natural in a gentleman of his family and breeding, cared more for the honour and name of the house than for him that might one day bear it, and that he sent me forth in quest of wealth for to redeem the estates, as any father in Rome might have sent forth his son in quest of warlike honour. After this explanation, which I trust shall resolve any matters that might otherwise seem to you obscure or contradictory, I will proceed to my tale.

Since I have spoke to you of my father’s poverty, you will readily perceive that he could not send me to any great school, nor was he likely, in the dark days that then shadowed this poor realm of ours, to commit me to the tuition of the schismatical minister that had usurped the room of the vicar of our parish, wherefore he was constrained to send me by the day to the grammar-school of Puckle Acton, which town lieth in the vicinage of Ellswether. Here, in common with the sons of many gentlemen of the country round, I gained a slight acquaintance with Greek and Latin, and (for which my life hath made me far more grateful) such a knowledge of the art of fence, of boxing and shooting, as hath often stood me in good stead. When I was not at the school, the time did often hang heavy for me, for the gentlemen’s sons of whom I have spoken durst not admit me to their company more than rarely, for fear of the suspicions of our tyrants, that were wont to scent a conjuration or conspiracy whensoever any number of Malignants (for so they called us) was met together. The

company of the boys of the town I neither sought nor would my father have permitted me so to do, and I came thus, almost of necessity, to use and enjoy that of my little cousin Dorothy Brandon, in all my holidays and times of rest. ’Twas with her I learned from Mrs Skipwith to read French, and we loved to pore together over the pages of the ‘Grand Cyrus,’ that magazine of brave thoughts and witty conceits, of the ‘Cleopâtre’ and of the ‘Clélie.’ Of English books we had no great store, but in Sir Philip Sidney his ‘Arcadia’ and in Mr Lyly’s ‘Euphues’ we found a rare delight. Add to this, that my little cousin taught herself Latin in order to the reading it with me, and (her youth remembered) was no mean scholar in the Greek, and you shall see that we had no lack of fantastic and heroical reading for to divert ourselves withal.

Nor was this all our diversion, for we had, beside, our especial romance, or rather romancical drama, since we never writ our incidents, but, if I may so speak, lived them. In this piece my cousin was called Polyxandra, a wood-nymph vowed to Dian’s service, and I Cleombrocles, her faithful knight. The action of the plot was mighty tragical, and full of moving scenes and incidents, for we were beset not alone by the horrid monster Anthropophage, whose castle I have ofttimes besieged, and whose self (as presented by Bevis our house-dog) I often slew, but also by Sophronysius, the tyrannic governor of Mycene, whose part, unknown to herself, was played by Mrs Skipwith. This tyrant was wont to carry off the amiable Polyxandra whensoever as our romance was most alluring; and many fearful vows have I breathed against her, the poor victim weeping meanwhile over her task of presenting in needlework the history of Sisera and Jael. My father performed the part of the Deus ex machinâ, stepping in to grant Polyxandra an holiday when all my intercessions failed; but even

he could do little against a certain terrible enchanter, named Virgilius Tully, to whom the renowned Cleombrocles was bound by a solemn vow, that he should attend upon him daily in his cave, and there serve him. Yet was not all our life spent in wars, for to us the meadows and woods around Ellswether were those of Arcady and Thessalia, and we wandered through them engaged in heroic discourse, carried on in extreme picked and delicate language, and garnished with many euphuisms and other pretty conceits, such as I now hear the learned ladies of France do mightily affect. Oh! the vows of never-dying devotion these woods have echoed, the coy answers of the nymph, and the renewed passion of Cleombrocles, interrupted by the approach of the fell Sophronysius!

After the joyful and happy Restoration of his majesty King Charles II., I was able to meet with my fellows without molestation, and also to join with them in many noble sports; but so great was the ruin and poverty brought upon us by the dominion of the rebels (though now happily past), that of the common usages and hospitalities of the country was there next to none among us. ’Twas but rarely that my little cousin and I visited upon any, and ’twas fewer still that came to the Hall, save now and then an ancient cavalier that had known my father in the days of his youth. Yet ’twas one of these ancient gentlemen, as I believe, that must have stirred Sir Harry’s mind to see that I, his only son, was growing up in idleness, and thus embarked him, if I may so speak, on that long voyage of treaties and negotiations, whereof I was only made aware when all was complete.

Two or three times in the year, it was our custom (my little cousin’s and mine) to go to Puckle Acton and take supper with good Mr Sternhold, the attorney. There was never there for us any lack of welcome on the part of Mrs Sternhold or himself; and their two comely daughters, Mrs Diony and Mrs Sisley, were wont to make much of me, and to show great kindness to my little cousin. It did much please them that we, being so young, were deemed troth-plight; and they did delight to set us side by side, and to cry out how pretty a couple we made, and then to incite me to show myself a courteous servant to that my little lady. But always after this was Dorothy wont to behave herself so coy and disdainful as ’tis impossible to conceive, and would try me with as many grievous slights as did ever the coldest and cruellest maid in the romances, so as I would threaten to go away into some foreign kingdom, and seek my fortune, far from my untender love, as did the knights of whom we read so often. And this also did mightily divert the two young damsels and their mother. ’Twas on my

eighteenth birthday, at the close of the year 1664, that that occurred which enabled me, though without any knowledge of mine beforehand, to perform this frequent threat—nay, rather compelled me so to do. We had been supping at Mr Sternhold’s house, Dorothy and I, and as we returned she did most steadfastly refuse to take my hand through the woods, because, said she, I had had the misfortune to turn my back on her during the evening. And we wrangling and quarrelling over this mighty matter, the dispute lasted until we were come to the Hall, where I spake after my usual fashion, but Dorothy tossed her saucy head, and must needs say that I talked much of going to foreign parts, but should never go there. Then upon this scornful humour of hers brake in the voice of my father, that was sitting in his great chair in the study, with many papers upon the table before him.

“Son Edward,” says he, “I would fain speak with you.”

“At your pleasure, sir,” says I. “When shall I attend upon you?”

“Now,” says my father; “so soon as little Doll here be gone to bed.”

Dorothy kissed my father, though with a pout, made me a curtsey, and ran away, I shutting the door after her.

“You are now arrived at your eighteenth year, Ned?” says my father.

“Yes, sir,” says I. “I was born in the year that my Lord Fairfax took Oxford city, as I have heard you say.”