Lost Sir Massingberd Volume I Part 7

"My dear young friend," said my host, with seriousness, but placing his hand kindly upon my shoulder, "an honest man should never be afraid of a fellow-creature. 'Fear G.o.d,' it is written; but even the king is only to be honoured."

It is impossible to express the grave and n.o.ble air with which Mr.

Gerard spoke those words: I felt such an affectionate awe of him from that moment, as no other person has ever inspired within me.

"But," continued I, "supposing he had made a personal a.s.sault upon you: he is perfectly reckless, and a much more powerful man, I should think."

"Very true, my young friend; and indeed at one time I thought he would certainly have done it; that was why I placed the poker in the fire. It would not have been a romantic action; but so sure as he laid finger upon me, I would have played Bailie Nicol Jarvie, and 'burned a hole in him one might put a kail-pat through.' It would have give me genuine pleasure."

"Burned a hole in Sir Ma.s.singberd!" cried I aghast.

"Ay, that would I. As it was, I threatened him with my servants; and had he ventured to force his way into yonder room, they should have flogged him, though he were ten times Sir Ma.s.singberd. Better men than he are often flogged for less offences. Did you hear of Admiral Flinthert's funeral at Crittenden a month ago or so? You did; and I daresay you were told that he was a good man and a brave sailor."

"So it was said, indeed, sir," replied I. "Mr. Long attended the funeral out of respect, and I believe a great number of gentlemen of the county."

"Yet, for all that, he was a bad man, and a coward," returned Mr.

Gerard, his voice rising, and his blue eyes flashing with indignation.

"One part of the naval creed--'to hate the French'--it is true, he did believe, and acted in that faith; but he omitted the other, and the more important, 'to hate the devil.' He loved and served the devil of his own arrogant pa.s.sions; he made the men miserable over whom he ruled; his ship was called the Floating h.e.l.l. When the carriage of the lord-lieutenant had driven away from the church, with all its load of sympathy--for there was nothing else inside it--and the county gentry were rolling homewards, congratulating themselves that they had paid due reverence to a gallant officer and a friend of order and good government, I will tell you what happened. The very evening those honoured remains were laid in their resting-place, a sailor called at the house of old Marks, the s.e.xton, and begged to be shown the admiral's coffin. 'I have sailed with him for years,' said he, 'and I have made right away from Portsmouth on purpose to do this; and though I cannot see his face, I should like at least to look upon that which contains it.'

"Now, old Marks did not fancy unlocking the church, and descending into a damp vault; beside which, he had really no right to enter the last home of the Flintherts without due occasion. So said he, 'I cannot admit you to where the admiral lies, and certainly not at this hour; it is as much as my place is worth.'

"Then the sailor, who was as fine and hearty-looking a man, said Marks, as need be, held up half a sovereign between his finger and thumb. 'I have been just paid off,' said he, 'and will gladly give you this for your trouble; while as for your scruples, why, don't you think the admiral's family here, and all his great friends who came to do him honour to-day, would be glad enough that a poor tar should pay a humble tribute to his memory?'

"'Well,' said Marks, regarding, I daresay, the half-sovereign, rather wistfully, 'what you have just said seems certainly to alter the matter.

I will take you to the church, and you shall see the coffin, for the vault is not yet sealed.'

"So they started with a lantern, and Marks was for going first to show the way, but the sailor went ahead, saying that he knew the road blindfold, for that he had been brought up in that neighbourhood, and knew it well.

"'Well,' said old Marks, 'I thought I recognized something about you, although you are much changed in the last twenty years. You are Will Moody, who got into trouble with Sir Wentworth Heath about poaching; only he couldn't quite prove it agin you.'

"'No,' returned the sailor; 'but he went to work by a surer way than even the law--he got me pressed when I went to visit my sister down at Deal.'

"That, my young friend," observed Mr. Gerard, interrupting himself, "is a method by which not only we man our fleet, but rid the country of a number of obnoxious persons."[1]

"'Yes,' continued the sailor, 'I was pressed; if it had not been for that I should not have sailed under Admiral Flinthert.' He spoke no more till they had entered the church, and had moved away the stone, which had been only dropped, and not yet fastened over the mouth of the vault.

Then they descended the steps, and old Marks turned his lantern on to the spot where the first--that is, the latest--coffin of the long row was lying. 'That is the admiral's,' said he; 'you may read his name upon the silver plate.'

"William Moody spelled it out aloud, so as to be quite sure. 'Well,'

said he, 'I will tell you a little story about that dead man, and then we will come away.'

"'Tell us the story when we get home,' replied the s.e.xton.

"'No, no, man; I will tell it here, else you would think ill of me, may be, for what I am going to do. Now listen. For a long time after I was pressed, I hated and detested what I had to do, and also those who gave me my orders; but after a bit I got more used to the work, and some of the officers I learned to like very well, especially our captain. I was a strong active fellow, without home-ties to think upon and sadden me, for mother had other sons to maintain her, and in that respect I was luckier than most. There were pressed men on board of the same ship, man, whose wives and helpless children were starving because their bread-winner was taken from them, and who knew not whether he was dead or alive. However, as I say, I soon got used to my new position, and became so good a sailor that I was made what is called captain of the main-top. When our ship was paid off, which was not, however, for a long time, I liked the salt water so well, that after I had been home for a little, I volunteered to serve again.

"'My next captain was this man who lies here. He was as cruel a tyrant as ever trod a quarter-deck, and a terror to good and bad alike. You could never please him, do what you would. If an officer is worth his salt at all, he knows and respects those men who do their duty well under him. Captain Flinthert knew, but did not respect them; on the contrary, he behaved towards them as though he resented some imaginary claims on their part to his consideration. I held in his ship the same position that I held in the last, for it did not contain a more active sailor. Yet he found occasion--I should rather say he made it--to get me punished. I swear to you that I had not committed even that slight fault which he laid to my charge; if I had done so, it was one for which the stopping of a day's grog would have been chastis.e.m.e.nt enough. This ruffian'--here he smote the coffin with his clenched hand--'ordered me three dozen lashes. Now, I had never been flogged yet, and when I went to the captain with almost tears in my eyes, and told him so, and that I had never even been reported for misconduct, he replied with a sneer that I was too good by half, and that it was high time I should become acquainted with the cat-o'-nine tails. "To prevent mistakes, you shall have it at once," said he: "call up the boatswain's mate." Now, I thought to myself, in the pride of my manliness and independence, that such a disgrace should never happen to William Moody, but that I would die first; so I walked straight from that part of the deck where I had been speaking with Captain Flinthert, and leaped from the bulwarks into the sea. I believed I tried at first to drown myself, but I was a strong swimmer, and nature compelled me presently to strike out. The cry of "A man overboard!" had caused the boat to be lowered at once, and though we had been sailing very fast, I was picked up, not much exhausted, and almost in spite of myself. As soon as I had got on board, and put on dry things, the captain sent for me on deck, where I found the boatswain's mate at the grating, and all hands piped for punishment. "William Moody," said that ruffian in a mocking voice, "I had ordered you three dozen lashes for a certain offence, but you have now committed a much graver one in endangering, by your late act, the life of one of his majesty's sailors; you will therefore now receive six dozen instead.

Boatswain, do your duty."

"'I was, therefore, tied up and punished. I don't think I suffered much at the time, although I was laid up in the sick ward for long afterwards. I was entirely occupied with thoughts of revenge. When I was able to get about again, Captain Flinthert had got another ship, and was away out of my reach. I never met him, again, or he would not have lived to the age that is inscribed on yonder plate; but as soon as I heard that he was dead, I swore to come and spit upon the tyrant's coffin.'

"Then the sailor suited the action to the word, and turned from the dishonoured corpse with a lighter step than that with which he had approached it; and old Marks followed him from the vault, as he confessed to me himself, 'half frightened out of his wits.'"

"I do not wonder," said I to Mr. Gerard, "it was a terrible revenge."

"Ay, but how much worse was the provocation; from the very man, too, placed in authority of him, whose duty was to foster, not to oppress him. Verily, they that are in honour, and understand not, are as the beasts that perish."

"True," returned I, "but then the wretch was dead."

"Just so, young sir," replied Mr. Gerard, impetuously, "was dead, and never felt the insult. The sailor felt both the insult and the lashes.

How is it that, at your age, you have already learned to be the apologist of the rich in high places?"

"Nay, sir, I--?"

"Yes, you," continued my host with vehemence; "your pity is for the admiral, and does not descend to the captain of the maintop. Still,"

added he, in a milder tone, "I should not judge you harshly, even if you so judge others. You were brought up in India, were you not? where in the eyes of the cowering natives, to be white is to be powerful, and wise, and all in all--save to be good. Great heavens, what a retribution is waiting for us there!" Again my host paced the room, but this time rapidly, wildly, and uttering exclamations like a sibyl inspired by her G.o.d. "If the nabobs we see here are specimens of those who rule the East, Heaven help the ruled! What blindness, what infatuation! Do you know, young man, the very men that cause revolutions am the last to believe in them?" This was an observation so entirely beyond me, that I could only murmur that such was doubtless the case, although I did not remember having heard it remarked before. "It is so," continued Mr.

Gerard, positively, "and it always has been so. It was so in France. I suppose you have always been taught to consider the French Republicans the vilest and wickedest of men, and the Revolution to be the mother that produced them at one monstrous birth. Yes, when the day of reckoning comes, and the ruin is undeniable, Democracy, forsooth, is blamed. The taunt is hurled--

'"Behold the harvest that we reap From popular government and equality!"

Whereas, in truth, 'tis neither these, nor aught Of wild belief ingrafted on their names By false philosophy, have caused the woe, But a terrific reservoir of guilt And ignorance, filled up from age to age, That can no longer hold its loathsome charge, But bursts, and spreads in deluge through the land.'

High truth embalmed in n.o.ble verse, yet no one heeds. The author of those lines, my friend, is the greatest poet in Great Britain, and has never possessed an income of a hundred pounds a year. They say that my Lord Castlereagh has thirty thousand...--Stay, do you not hear wheels?

That must be Sitwell's gig. I have not the patience to see him now. His sycophantic officiousness in fetching Sir Ma.s.singberd was too contemptible. How can a man who has two legs given him to stand upright upon, persist in grovelling through life upon all-fours?

'Heaven grant the man some n.o.ble nook; For, rest his soul! he'd rather be Genteelly d.a.m.ned beside a duke Than saved in vulgar company.'

Do you receive him, Mr. Meredith; and tell him from me that it is no thanks to him that his patient is yet alive. Now that the siege is raised, I will just step in and see how the lad is getting on."

My host had left the room only a few seconds when Dr. Sitwell entered it.

"My dear young friend!" exclaimed he, in an excited manner, "what on earth has happened to Sir Ma.s.singberd Heath? He very nearly rode me down ten minutes ago on Crittenden Common; and when I inquired after his nephew, he replied--Well, I cannot repeat the exact words, because they are so excessively shocking. Why, he must be out of his mind with grief!

I trust he did nothing impetuous, nothing that is to be regretted, here?"

"No, sir," replied I; "he did not, thanks to our good host, who withstood all his attempts to see his nephew. It was, however, most indiscreet of you to send him hither. Mr. Harvey Gerard was exceedingly annoyed by your doing so."

"My dear young friend," observed Dr. Sitwell, sinking his voice to a confidential whisper, "Mr. Harvey Gerard is annoyed at many things which would give most sensible persons a great deal of pleasure. He would as soon admit a rattle-snake within his doors as a man of t.i.tle, unless, indeed, it be his friend, Sir Charles Wolseley. By the by, it is to Sir Charles that my dear patient, Mr. Broadacres, is indirectly indebted for his wound. If Sir Charles had not convened that revolutionary meeting at Bangton, Mr. Broadacres would not have had to read the Riot Act, and eventually got shot by mistake by his own men. It is denied by the government, I perceive, that ball was fired by the troops at the first discharge; but between ourselves such was certainly the case; for I extracted the bullet from poor Mr. B. myself, and he has had to lie upon his face ever since. Good heavens, sir, what a position for a man whose family came in with the Conqueror!"

"Is this Sir Charles Wolseley, then, of whom one reads so much in the papers, a friend of Mr. Gerard's?" said I. "I have heard Mr. Long remark that he was a very dangerous man."

"So he is, sir. He'll be hung some day, as sure as he lives. And the gentleman in whose house we stand is tarred with the same brush. It's terrible to think of. Why, do you know, Mr. Meredith, that Mr. Harvey Gerard goes the length"--here the doctor looked about him to be sure that we were alone, and placing his lips close to my ear, whispered solemnly, "of wearing a white hat!"

"Gracious goodness," returned I, "why shouldn't he? My father always wears a white hat in India."

"Yes; but let me tell you this, India is not England," observed the doctor, sagaciously. "A white hat here is the badge of Radicalism, Republicanism, Atheism--I don't say that Mr. Gerard is a downright atheist, but he's a sectary, and that's nearly as bad. And hark ye, I know this for certain: the only reason why Henry Hunt himself is not hand and glove with our friend is this, that when Hunt was tried for his life for sedition, he came into the dock, like a prudent man, with a black hat, and that is the one act of caution and good sense for which Mr. Gerard has never forgiven him."

[1] This sarcasm was founded on literal truth; I myself remember a time when Englishmen submitted to a system of oppression almost precisely similar to that which has of late driven the Poles to insurrection, and enlisted for them the sympathies of Europe--namely, a forced conscription, the subjects of which are selected.