by James Payn
CHAPTER IX.
MR. HARVEY GERARD.
So entirely engrossed had I been with the action and dialogue of thespeakers in the preceding scene, that it scarcely struck me while it wasgoing on that I had not paid for my place in the pit in the usualfashion, but was a mere eavesdropper under an orange-tree.
So soon as Sir Massingberd was really gone, however, I became consciousof the impropriety of my situation, and not wishing to own what I haddone, I stole noiselessly out into the garden, and then re-entered theconservatory, and thereby the drawing-room, as though I had been out ofsight and hearing all the time. It was not quite a chivalrous act; but Ido not think that the boys of my time, myself included, were quite sohonourable and frank as Mr. Tom Brown describes those of the present dayto be. There was something, moreover, about Mr. Harvey Gerard which toldme he would have loathed a listener, nor would have been very ready tohave accepted fear as any excuse for my conduct. He was a man of noblebearing, nearly six feet in height, and extremely well formed. He wasdressed in a blue lapelled coat, light waistcoat and kerseys, andHessian boots. These last I had not seen before upon any person, and Iremember them well. I think they were the most graceful covering for theleg that has yet been devised, although, I own, they may not have beenso convenient as the modern knickerbockers. He wore his own greyhair--which was not very usual with persons of his rank of life--andrather long. His features were large, but handsome; and there was a kindof youthful blandness about them which gave his face a most agreeableexpression in ordinary. When excited by passion, however, as I hadlately seen him, his appearance greatly changed. His thin lips partedcontemptuously, and showed his threatening teeth, while his blue eyes,gentle almost to dreaminess, became blood-streaked, and almost startedfrom their sockets. As I now beheld him calmly kindling a lamp on thedrawing-room table, no one could have been a greater contrast thanhimself to the man who had just driven Sir Massingberd Heath from theroom with such a hail-storm of invective.
"Well, young gentleman," exclaimed he, cheerfully, "the enemy isrepulsed, you see, although, I confess, your friend the baronet israther a formidable fellow. He's uncommonly like Front de Boeuf. Idaresay you have read the new romance of 'Ivanhoe,' have you not?"
"Marmaduke has, sir, I believe," replied I; "but I am sorry to say I amno great reader."
"That is not well, Mr. Meredith; youth is the time for reading. Aknowledge of books, if they are sufficiently varied, is half-way towardsthe knowledge of men. It is true that a student may turn out a fool,because he may have been a book-worm; but the probability is greater ofthat misfortune befalling one who has been 'no great reader.' I wouldnot say so much, if you were older than you are, and had not plenty oftime before you to redeem the past. There is nothing more contemptiblethan ignorance; save, perhaps"--here he sighed--"than knowledgemisapplied. What a dangerous villain would that man be, for instance,who has just been here, had his natural powers been cultivated by study.As it is, he rushes headlong, like the bull." Here he turned upon megaily. "Did he ever toss you, my young friend?"
"Well, sir," returned I, remembering that interview in the churchyard,"he bellowed at me once a little."
"Did he, my boy, did he?--the cowardly brute! Well, I've put a ringthrough his nose for a considerable time to come, I flatter myself. Ilike a bull-fight. I think I should have made a capital matador,"cried Mr. Gerard, rubbing his hands and laughing.
"How did you--how did you manage to ring him, sir?" inquired I, withhesitation, for I was curious to see whether Mr. Gerard would make me aconfidant of what had passed.
"Oh, I watched him carefully--never took my eyes off him for a moment.When he was calm in his white malice, then I irritated him by waving myred flag--this silver-headed brandy-flask put him in a horrible rage.When he made his rushes, I stood aside, and let him go where he would.When he had exhausted himself, I stepped in, and gave him the steel. Iwonder," soliloquized Mr. Gerard, aloud, as he slowly paced up and downthe room--"I wonder if it would be safe to give him the coup degrace!"
"But," said I, "were you not afraid--"
"My dear young friend," said my host, with seriousness, but placing hishand kindly upon my shoulder, "an honest man should never be afraid of afellow-creature. 'Fear God,' it is written; but even the king is onlyto be honoured."
It is impossible to express the grave and noble air with which Mr.Gerard spoke those words: I felt such an affectionate awe of him fromthat moment, as no other person has ever inspired within me.
"But," continued I, "supposing he had made a personal assault 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 wouldcertainly have done it; that was why I placed the poker in the fire. Itwould not have been a romantic action; but so sure as he laid fingerupon me, I would have played Bailie Nicol Jarvie, and 'burned a hole inhim one might put a kail-pat through.' It would have give me genuinepleasure."
"Burned a hole in Sir Massingberd!" cried I aghast.
"Ay, that would I. As it was, I threatened him with my servants; and hadhe ventured to force his way into yonder room, they should have floggedhim, though he were ten times Sir Massingberd. Better men than he areoften flogged for less offences. Did you hear of Admiral Flinthert'sfuneral at Crittenden a month ago or so? You did; and I daresay you weretold that he was a good man and a brave sailor."
"So it was said, indeed, sir," replied I. "Mr. Long attended the funeralout of respect, and I believe a great number of gentlemen of thecounty."
"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 didbelieve, and acted in that faith; but he omitted the other, and the moreimportant, 'to hate the devil.' He loved and served the devil of his ownarrogant passions; he made the men miserable over whom he ruled; hisship was called the Floating Hell. When the carriage of thelord-lieutenant had driven away from the church, with all its load ofsympathy--for there was nothing else inside it--and the county gentrywere rolling homewards, congratulating themselves that they had paid duereverence to a gallant officer and a friend of order and goodgovernment, I will tell you what happened. The very evening thosehonoured remains were laid in their resting-place, a sailor called atthe house of old Marks, the sexton, and begged to be shown the admiral'scoffin. 'I have sailed with him for years,' said he, 'and I have maderight away from Portsmouth on purpose to do this; and though I cannotsee his face, I should like at least to look upon that which containsit.'
"Now, old Marks did not fancy unlocking the church, and descending intoa damp vault; beside which, he had really no right to enter the lasthome of the Flintherts without due occasion. So said he, 'I cannot admityou to where the admiral lies, and certainly not at this hour; it is asmuch 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. 'Ihave been just paid off,' said he, 'and will gladly give you this foryour trouble; while as for your scruples, why, don't you think theadmiral's family here, and all his great friends who came to do himhonour to-day, would be glad enough that a poor tar should pay a humbletribute to his memory?'
"'Well,' said Marks, regarding, I daresay, the half-sovereign, ratherwistfully, '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 thevault is not yet sealed.'
"So they started with a lantern, and Marks was for going first to showthe way, but the sailor went ahead, saying that he knew the roadblindfold, for that he had been brought up in that neighbourhood, andknew 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 WillMoody, who got into trouble with Sir Wentworth Heath about poaching;only he couldn't quite prove it agin you.'
"'No,' return
ed the sailor; 'but he went to work by a surer way thaneven the law--he got me pressed when I went to visit my sister down atDeal.'
"That, my young friend," observed Mr. Gerard, interrupting himself, "isa method by which not only we man our fleet, but rid the country of anumber of obnoxious persons."[1]
"'Yes,' continued the sailor, 'I was pressed; if it had not been forthat I should not have sailed under Admiral Flinthert.' He spoke no moretill they had entered the church, and had moved away the stone, whichhad 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 tothe spot where the first--that is, the latest--coffin of the long rowwas lying. 'That is the admiral's,' said he; 'you may read his name uponthe 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 thenwe will come away.'
"'Tell us the story when we get home,' replied the sexton.
"'No, no, man; I will tell it here, else you would think ill of me, maybe, for what I am going to do. Now listen. For a long time after I waspressed, I hated and detested what I had to do, and also those who gaveme my orders; but after a bit I got more used to the work, and some ofthe officers I learned to like very well, especially our captain. I wasa 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 wasluckier than most. There were pressed men on board of the same ship,man, whose wives and helpless children were starving because theirbread-winner was taken from them, and who knew not whether he was deador alive. However, as I say, I soon got used to my new position, andbecame so good a sailor that I was made what is called captain of themain-top. When our ship was paid off, which was not, however, for a longtime, I liked the salt water so well, that after I had been home for alittle, I volunteered to serve again.
"'My next captain was this man who lies here. He was as cruel a tyrantas ever trod a quarter-deck, and a terror to good and bad alike. Youcould never please him, do what you would. If an officer is worth hissalt at all, he knows and respects those men who do their duty wellunder him. Captain Flinthert knew, but did not respect them; on thecontrary, he behaved towards them as though he resented some imaginaryclaims on their part to his consideration. I held in his ship the sameposition that I held in the last, for it did not contain a more activesailor. Yet he found occasion--I should rather say he made it--to get mepunished. I swear to you that I had not committed even that slight faultwhich he laid to my charge; if I had done so, it was one for which thestopping of a day's grog would have been chastisement enough. Thisruffian'--here he smote the coffin with his clenched hand--'ordered methree dozen lashes. Now, I had never been flogged yet, and when I wentto the captain with almost tears in my eyes, and told him so, and that Ihad never even been reported for misconduct, he replied with a sneerthat I was too good by half, and that it was high time I should becomeacquainted with the cat-o'-nine tails. "To prevent mistakes, you shallhave it at once," said he: "call up the boatswain's mate." Now, Ithought to myself, in the pride of my manliness and independence, thatsuch a disgrace should never happen to William Moody, but that I woulddie first; so I walked straight from that part of the deck where I hadbeen speaking with Captain Flinthert, and leaped from the bulwarks intothe sea. I believed I tried at first to drown myself, but I was a strongswimmer, and nature compelled me presently to strike out. The cry of "Aman overboard!" had caused the boat to be lowered at once, and though wehad been sailing very fast, I was picked up, not much exhausted, andalmost in spite of myself. As soon as I had got on board, and put on drythings, the captain sent for me on deck, where I found the boatswain'smate at the grating, and all hands piped for punishment. "WilliamMoody," said that ruffian in a mocking voice, "I had ordered you threedozen lashes for a certain offence, but you have now committed a muchgraver one in endangering, by your late act, the life of one of hismajesty'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 muchat the time, although I was laid up in the sick ward for longafterwards. I was entirely occupied with thoughts of revenge. When I wasable to get about again, Captain Flinthert had got another ship, and wasaway out of my reach. I never met him, again, or he would not have livedto the age that is inscribed on yonder plate; but as soon as I heardthat 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 thedishonoured corpse with a lighter step than that with which he hadapproached it; and old Marks followed him from the vault, as heconfessed 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 oppresshim. Verily, they that are in honour, and understand not, are as thebeasts that perish."
"True," returned I, "but then the wretch was dead."
"Just so, young sir," replied Mr. Gerard, impetuously, "was dead, andnever 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 theapologist of the rich in high places?"
"Nay, sir, I--?"
"Yes, you," continued my host with vehemence; "your pity is for theadmiral, 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 youso judge others. You were brought up in India, were you not? where inthe eyes of the cowering natives, to be white is to be powerful, andwise, and all in all--save to be good. Great heavens, what a retributionis waiting for us there!" Again my host paced the room, but this timerapidly, wildly, and uttering exclamations like a sibyl inspired by hergod. "If the nabobs we see here are specimens of those who rule theEast, Heaven help the ruled! What blindness, what infatuation! Do youknow, young man, the very men that cause revolutions am the last tobelieve in them?" This was an observation so entirely beyond me, that Icould only murmur that such was doubtless the case, although I did notremember having heard it remarked before. "It is so," continued Mr.Gerard, positively, "and it always has been so. It was so in France. Isuppose you have always been taught to consider the French Republicansthe vilest and wickedest of men, and the Revolution to be the motherthat produced them at one monstrous birth. Yes, when the day ofreckoning comes, and the ruin is undeniable, Democracy, forsooth, isblamed. 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 noble verse, yet no one heeds. The author ofthose lines, my friend, is the greatest poet in Great Britain, and hasnever possessed an income of a hundred pounds a year. They say that myLord 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. Hissycophantic officiousness in fetching Sir Massingberd was toocontemptible. How can a man who has two legs given him to stand uprightupon, persist in grovelling through life upon all-fours?
'Heaven grant the man some noble nook; For, rest his soul! he'd rather be Genteelly damned beside a duke Than saved in vulgar company.'
Do you receive him, Mr. Meredith; and tell him from me that it is nothanks to him that his patient is yet alive. Now that the siege israised, 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 enteredit.
"My dear young friend!" exclaimed he, in an excited manner, "what onearth has happened to Sir Massingberd Heath? He
very nearly rode me downten minutes ago on Crittenden Common; and when I inquired after hisnephew, he replied--Well, I cannot repeat the exact words, because theyare 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, whowithstood all his attempts to see his nephew. It was, however, mostindiscreet of you to send him hither. Mr. Harvey Gerard was exceedinglyannoyed by your doing so."
"My dear young friend," observed Dr. Sitwell, sinking his voice to aconfidential whisper, "Mr. Harvey Gerard is annoyed at many things whichwould give most sensible persons a great deal of pleasure. He would assoon admit a rattle-snake within his doors as a man of title, unless,indeed, it be his friend, Sir Charles Wolseley. By the by, it is to SirCharles that my dear patient, Mr. Broadacres, is indirectly indebted forhis wound. If Sir Charles had not convened that revolutionary meeting atBangton, Mr. Broadacres would not have had to read the Riot Act, andeventually got shot by mistake by his own men. It is denied by thegovernment, I perceive, that ball was fired by the troops at the firstdischarge; but between ourselves such was certainly the case; for Iextracted the bullet from poor Mr. B. myself, and he has had to lie uponhis face ever since. Good heavens, sir, what a position for a man whosefamily came in with the Conqueror!"
"Is this Sir Charles Wolseley, then, of whom one reads so much in thepapers, a friend of Mr. Gerard's?" said I. "I have heard Mr. Long remarkthat he was a very dangerous man."
"So he is, sir. He'll be hung some day, as sure as he lives. And thegentleman in whose house we stand is tarred with the same brush. It'sterrible to think of. Why, do you know, Mr. Meredith, that Mr. HarveyGerard goes the length"--here the doctor looked about him to be surethat we were alone, and placing his lips close to my ear, whisperedsolemnly, "of wearing a white hat!"
"Gracious goodness," returned I, "why shouldn't he? My father alwayswears a white hat in India."
"Yes; but let me tell you this, India is not England," observed thedoctor, sagaciously. "A white hat here is the badge of Radicalism,Republicanism, Atheism--I don't say that Mr. Gerard is a downrightatheist, but he's a sectary, and that's nearly as bad. And hark ye, Iknow this for certain: the only reason why Henry Hunt himself is nothand and glove with our friend is this, that when Hunt was tried for hislife for sedition, he came into the dock, like a prudent man, with ablack hat, and that is the one act of caution and good sense for whichMr. Gerard has never forgiven him."
[1] This sarcasm was founded on literal truth; I myself remember a timewhen Englishmen submitted to a system of oppression almost preciselysimilar to that which has of late driven the Poles to insurrection, andenlisted for them the sympathies of Europe--namely, a forcedconscription, the subjects of which are selected.
