A SERMON FOR SUNDAY
In 1867 Posh sold the old _William Tell_ to be broken up. She was barely
seaworthy and unfit to continue fishing. An agreement was entered into
with Dan Fuller, a Lowestoft boat-builder, for a new lugger to be built,
on lines supplied by Posh, at a total cost (including spars) of 360
pounds. FitzGerald had suggested that the boat should be built by a Mr.
Hunt, of Aldeburgh, but Posh persuaded him to consent to Lowestoft and
Dan Fuller instead. "I can look arter 'em better," said he, with some
show of reason.
The agreement was, in the first instance, between Dan Fuller and Posh,
but FitzGerald took a fancy to become partner with Posh in the boat and
her profits. He was to find the money for the new lugger, and to let the
sums already due from Posh remain in the partnership, while Posh was to
bring in the nets and gear he had.
But by this time FitzGerald had seen symptoms in Posh which caused him
anxiety. He loved his humble friend, and his anxiety was on account of
the man and not on account of the possibilities of pecuniary loss
incurred through Posh's weakness. On December the 4th, 1866, he wrote to
Mr. Spalding, of Woodbridge: "At eight or half-past I go to have a pipe
at Posh's, if he isn't half-drunk with his Friends" (_Two Suffolk
Friends_, p. 107).
On January 5th, 1867, he wrote to the same correspondent (_Two Suffolk
Friends_, p. 108) referring to Posh: "This very day he signs an Agreement
for a new Herring-lugger, of which he is to be Captain, and to which he
will contribute some Nets and Gear. . . . I believe I have smoked my
pipe every evening but one with Posh at his house, which his quiet little
Wife keeps tidy and pleasant. The Man is, I do think, of a Royal Nature.
I have told him he is liable to one Danger (the Hare with many
Friends)--so many wanting him _to drink_. He says it's quite true and
that he is often obliged to run away: as I believe he does: for his House
shows all Temperance and Order. This little lecture I give him--to go
the way, I suppose, of all such Advice. . . ."
I fear that poor Posh's limbs soon grew too stiff to permit him to run
away from the good brown "bare." But the lecture which FitzGerald
mentions so casually was surely one of the most delicately written
warnings ever penned. The sterling kindness of the writer is as
transparent in it as is his tenderness to an inferior's feelings. No one
but a very paragon of a gentleman would have taken the trouble to write
so wisely, so kindly, so tenderly, and so earnestly. The appeal must
surely have moved Posh, for the pathos of the reference to his patron's
loneliness could not but have its effect.
But to touch on the sacred "bare" of a Lowestoft fisherman is always
dangerous. There are many teetotallers among them now, and they would
resent any imputation on their temperance. But those who are not
teetotallers would resent it much more. FitzGerald warned his friend in
as beautiful a letter as was ever written. But Posh could never regard
the "mild bare," the "twopenny" of the district, as an enemy. He rarely
touched spirits. Now, at the age of sixty-nine, he enjoys his mild beer
more than anything and cares little for stronger stuff. But there is no
doubt that this same mild beer inserted the edge of the adze which was to
split the partnership in a little more than three years' time--this and
the "interfarin' parties," whom Posh blames for all the misunderstandings
which were to come.
"MARKETHILL, WOODBRIDGE, _Thursday_.
"MY DEAR POSHY,
"My Lawyer can easily manage the Assignment of the Lugger to me,
leaving the Agreement as it is between you and Fuller. But you must
send the Agreement here for him to see.
"As we shall provide that the Lugger when built shall belong to me; so
we will provide that, in case of my dying _before_ she is built, you
may come on my executors for any money due.
"I think you will believe that I shall propose, and agree to, nothing
which is not for your good. For surely I should not have meddled with
it at all, but for that one purpose.
"And now, Poshy, I mean to read you a short Sermon, which you can keep
till Sunday to read. You know I told you of _one_ danger--and I do
think the only one--you are liable to--_Drink_.
"I do not the least think you are _given_ to it: but you have, and
will have, so many friends who will press you to it: perhaps _I_
myself have been one. And when you keep so long without _food_;
_could_ you do so, Posh, without a Drink--of some your bad Beer
[_sic_] too--now and then? And then, does not the Drink--and of bad
Stuff--take away Appetite for the time? And will, if continued, so
spoil the stomach that it will not bear anything _but_ Drink. And
this evil comes upon us gradually, without our knowing how it grows.
That is why I warn you, Posh. If I am wrong in thinking you want my
warning, you must forgive me, believing that I should not warn at all
if I were not much interested in your welfare. I know that you do
your best to keep out at sea, and watch on shore, for anything that
will bring home something for Wife and Family. But do not do so at
any such risk as I talk of.
"I say, I tell you all this for your sake: and something for my own
also--not as regards the Lugger--but because, thinking you, as I do,
so good a Fellow, and being glad of your Company; and taking
_Pleasure_ in seeing you prosper; I should now be sorely vext if you
went away from what I believe you to be. Only, whether you do well or
ill, _show me all above-board_, as I really think you have done; and
do not let a poor old, solitary, and sad Man (as I really am, in spite
of my Jokes), do not, I say, let me waste my Anxiety in vain.
"I thought I had done with new Likings: and I had a more easy Life
perhaps on that account: _now_ I shall often think of you with
uneasiness, for the very reason that I have so much Liking and
Interest for you.
"There--the Sermon is done, Posh. You _know_ I am not against Good
Beer while at Work: nor a cheerful Glass after work: only do not let
it spoil the stomach, or the Head.
"Your's truly,
"E. FG."