THE _MUM TUM_
FitzGerald having made up his mind to give Posh a lift by going into
partnership with him began by finding not only the money for the building
of the boat but a name for her when she should be ready for sea. It
seemed to him that "Meum and Tuum" would be an appropriate name, and the
_Mum Tum_ is remembered along the coast to this day as a queer,
meaningless title for a boat. At a later date FitzGerald is reported to
have said that his venture turned out all Tuum and no Meum so far as he
was concerned. But it is possible that Posh dealt more fairly with him
than he thought. At all events Posh thinks he did.
The boat was to be paid for in instalments. So much on laying the keel,
so much when the deck was on, etc., etc., and FitzGerald took the
greatest interest in her building. He had first thought of christening
the lugger "Marian Halcombe," after Wilkie Collins's heroine in _The
Woman in White_, as appears from a letter to Frederic Tennyson, written
in January, 1867 (_Letters_, II, 90, Eversley Edition):--
"I really think of having a Herring-lugger I am building named Marian
Halcombe. . . . Yes, a Herring-lugger; which is to pay for the money
she costs unless she goes to the Bottom: and which meanwhile amuses me
to consult about with my Sea-folks. I go to Lowestoft now and then by
way of salutary Change; and there smoke a Pipe every night with a
delightful Chap who is to be Captain."
Again on June 17th (_Letters_, II, 94, Eversley Edition) he wrote to the
late Professor Cowell of Corpus Christi College, Cambridge:--
"I am here in my little Ship" (the _Scandal_) "with no company but my
crew" (Tom Newson and his nephew Jack) ". . . and my other--Captain of
the Lugger now a-building: a Fellow I never tire of studying--If he
_should_ turn out knave, I shall have done with all Faith in my own
Judgment: and if he should go to the Bottom of the Sea in the Lugger--I
shan't cry for the Lugger."
There was some delay in getting the deck planks on the lugger, for
FitzGerald wrote to Mr. Spalding on May 18th, 1867 (_Two Suffolk
Friends_, p. 110), that she would be decked "next Week," whereas her
planking was not finished till June, and, on a Friday in June, FitzGerald
wrote to Posh:--
"WOODBRIDGE, _Friday_.
"MY DEAR POSHY,
"I am only back To-day from London, where I had to go for two days:
and I am very glad to be back. For the Weather was wretched: the
Streets all Slush: and I all alone wandering about in it. So as I was
sitting at Night, in a great Room where a Crowd of People were eating
Supper, and Singing going on, I thought to myself--Well, Posh might as
well be here; and then I should see what a Face he would make at all
this--This Thought really came into my mind.
"I had asked Mr. Berry to forward me any Letters because I thought you
might write to say the Lugger was planked. But now you tell me it is
no such thing: well, there is plenty of time: but I wished not to
delay in sending the Money, if wanted. I have seen, and heard, no
more of Newson; nor of _his_ new Lugger from Mr. Hunt--I am told that
one of the American yachts, _The Henrietta_, is a perfect Model: so I
am going to have a Print of her that I may try and learn the Stem from
the Stern of a Ship. If this North-Easter changes I daresay I may run
to Lowestoft next week and get a Sail, but it is too cold for that
now.
"Well, here is a letter, you see, my little small Captain, in answer
to yours, which I was glad to see, for as I do not forget you, as I
have told you, so I am glad that you should sometime remember the Old
Governor and Herring-merchant
"EDWARD FITZGERALD."
It should be observed that in this letter, as in several of those written
to Posh, FitzGerald signed his name, "Edward FitzGerald," in full, a
practice from which he was averse owing to certain facts connected with
another Edward Fitzgerald. Those who have heard the story of the
historic first meeting between the poet and the late Mr. Bernard Quaritch
will remember why _our_ FitzGerald disliked the idea of being confused
with the other Edward Fitzgerald.
{Posh and his old "Shud," in which nets, etc., belonging to the
partnership were stored, and where the letters now published were found:
p62.jpg}
The letter here given forces a delightful picture upon us. Its
simplicity makes it superbly graphic. Think of FitzGerald, refined in
feature and reserved in manner, a little unconventional in dress, but not
sufficiently so to be vulgarly noticeable--think of the man who has given
us the most poetical philosophy and the most philosophical poetry, all in
the most exquisite English, in our language, sitting probably at Evans's
(it sounds like Evans's with the suppers and the music) and looking a
little pityingly at the reek about him like the "poor old, solitary, and
sad Man as he really was in spite of his Jokes"; and then imaging in his
mind's eye the handsome stalwart fisherman whom he loved so truly, and
believing that he was as morally excellent as he was physically! "What a
Face he would make at all this!" thought the poet.
Five or six years ago a good friend of mine, the skipper of one of the
most famous tugs of Yarmouth, had to go up to town on a salvage case
before the Admiralty Court. With him as witnesses went one or two beach
men of the old school, wind-and sun-tanned old shell-backs, with voices
like a fog-horn, and that entire lack of self-consciousness which is
characteristic of simplicity and good breeding. My friend the skipper
was cultured in comparison with the old beach men, and he was a little
vexed when one old "salwager" insisted on accompanying him to the Oxford
Music Hall. All went well till some conjurers appeared on the stage.
Then the skipper found that he had made a mistake in edging away from the
beach man. For that jolly old salt hailed him across the house. "Hi,
Billeeoh! Bill Berry! Hi! Lor, bor, howiver dew they dew't? Howiver
dew they dew't, bor? Tha'ss whoolly a masterpiece! Hi! Billeeoh! Theer
they goo agin!"
The skipper always ends the story there. He is as brave a man as any on
the coast. It was he who stood out in Yarmouth Roads all night to look
for the Caistor life-boat the night of the disaster--a night when the
roads could not be distinguished from the shoals, so broken into tossing
white horses was the whole offing--but I believe he slunk down the stairs
of the Oxford that night, and left the old beach man still expressing his
delighted wonder.
Perhaps FitzGerald thought that Posh would be as excited as the old beach
man.
"Mr. Berry" (as every one knows who knows anything about FitzGerald) was
the landlord of the house on Markethill, Woodbridge, where the poet
lodged. (By the way, he was, so far as I know, no relation of my Bill
Berry.) A sum of 50 pounds was due to Dan Fuller on the planking being
completed, and FitzGerald was anxious to let Posh have the money as soon
as it was needed. He "remembered his debts" even before they became due.
I have already stated that Hunt was a boat-builder at Aldeburgh, and that
FitzGerald had, at first, wished Posh to employ him to build the _Mum
Tum_, as the _Meum and Tuum_ was fated to be called.
The kindly jovial relations between the "guv'nor" and his partner could
not be better indicated than by the name FitzGerald gives himself at the
close, just before he once more signs his name in full. Well, perhaps
the legal luminary of Lowestoft would justify his inquiry if Edward
FitzGerald was the man who made a lot of money out of salt by saying,
"Well, he called himself a herring-merchant."
The schoolmaster who had never heard of either FitzGerald or Omar Khayyam
would (according to the nature of the breed) sniff and say "What? A
herring-merchant and a tent-maker! My boys are the sons of gentlemen. I
can't be expected to know anything about tradesfolk of that class."
But Posh has a sense of humour, and he says, "Ah! He used to laugh about
that, the guv'nor did. He'd catch hold o' my jersey, so" (here Posh
pinches up a fold of his blue woollen jersey), "and say, 'Oh dear! Oh
dear, Poshy! Two F's in the firm. FitzGerald and Fletcher, herring
salesmen--when Poshy catches any, which isn't as often as it might be,
you know, Poshy!' And then he'd laugh. Oh, he was a jolly kind-hearted
man if ever there was one."
And then Posh's eyes will grow moist sometimes, I think perhaps with the
thought that he might--ah, well! It's too late now.
Posh wishes me to give the dimensions of the lugger, as she was of his
own designing and proved a fast and stiff craft. He had given her two
feet less length than her beam called for, according to local ideas, and
FitzGerald called her "The Cart-horse," because she seemed broad and
bluff for her length. She was forty-five feet in length, with a fifteen-
foot beam and seven-foot depth. She was first rigged as a lugger, but
altered to the more modern "dandy" (something like a ketch but with more
rake to the mizzen and with no topmast on the mainmast) before she was
sold. Any one about the herring basins who has arrived at fisherman's
maturity (about sixty years) will remember the _Mum Tum_, and, so far as
she was concerned, the partnership was entirely successful, for no one
has a bad word to say for her.