Lord of himself, that heritage of woe.
BYRON.
Our novel may, to a certain degree, be compared to one of the pantomimes
which rival theatres annually bring forth for the amusement of the
holiday children. We open with dark and solemn scenes, introducing
occasionally a bright image which appears with the greater lustre from
the contrast around it; and thus we proceed, until Harlequin is fairly
provided with his wand, and despatched to seek his adventures by land
and by sea. To complete the parallel, the whole should wind up with a
blaze of light and beauty, till our dazzled eyes are relieved, and the
illusion disappears, at the fall of the green curtain, which, like the
"FINIS" at the end of the third volume, tells us that all is over.
We must, however, be allowed to recapitulate a little in this chapter,
previously to launching our hero upon the uncertain and boisterous sea
of human life. It will be necessary, for the correct development of the
piece, that the attention of the reader should be called to the history
of the grandfather of our hero.
Admiral De Courcy was the lineal descendant of an ancient and wealthy
family, of high aristocratic connection. He had the misfortune, at an
early age, to lose his father, to be an only child, and to have a very
weak and doting mother. Add to all these, that he was the heir to a
large entailed property, and the reader will acknowledge that even the
best disposed child stood a fair chance of being spoiled.
But young De Courcy was not a well-disposed child; he was of a violent,
headstrong, and selfish disposition, and was not easily to be checked by
the firmest hand. He advanced to man's estate, the cruel tyrant of a
fond and foolish mother, and the dislike of all around him. His
restless disposition, backed by the persuasions of his mother to the
contrary, induced him to enter into the naval service. At the time we
are now describing, the name of the boy often appeared on the books of a
man-of-war when the boy himself was at school or at home with his
friends; if there were any regulations to the contrary, they were easily
surmounted by interest. The consequence was that,--without any
knowledge of his profession, without having commenced his career by
learning to obey before he was permitted to command,--at the early age
of eighteen years, young De Courcy was appointed captain of a fine
frigate; and, as the power of a captain of a man-of-war was at that time
almost without limit, and his conduct without scrutiny, he had but too
favourable an opportunity of indulging his tyrannical propensities. His
caprice and violence were unbounded, his cruelty odious, and his ship
was designated by the sobriquet of _The Hell Afloat_.
There are, however, limits to the longest tether; and as no officer
would remain in the ship, and the desertion of the men became so
extensive, that a fine frigate lay useless and unmanned, the government
at last perceived the absolute necessity of depriving of command one who
could not command himself. The ship was paid off, and even the interest
of Captain De Courcy, powerful as it was, could not obtain further
employment for him. Having for some time been in possession of his
large property, Captain De Courcy retired to the hall of his ancestors,
with feelings of anger against the government, which his vindictive
temper prompted him to indulge by the annoyance of all around him; and,
instead of diffusing joy and comfort by the expenditure of his wealth,
he rendered himself odious by avarice,--a vice the more contemptible, as
it was unexpected at so early an age.
But, much as he was an object of abhorrence, he was more an object of
pity. With a handsome exterior, and with fascinating manners, of high
birth and connections, with a splendid fortune,--in short, with every
supposed advantage that the world could give,--he was, through the
injudicious conduct of a fond mother, whose heart he had broken, the
most miserable of beings. He was without society, for he was shunned by
the resident gentlemen in the neighbourhood. Even match-making mothers,
with hearts indurated by interest, and with a string of tall daughters
to provide for, thought the sacrifice too great, and shuddered at an
alliance with Captain De Courcy. Avoided by the tenants of his large
estates, whose misfortunes met with no compassion, and whose inability
to answer the demands of the rent-day were followed up with immediate
distress and seizure,--abhorred by his own household, who, if their
services were not required, vanished at his approach, or, if summoned,
entered the door of his room trembling,--he was an isolated and unhappy
being, a torment to himself and to others. Wise, indeed, was Solomon,
when he wrote, that "he who spared the rod spoiled the child."
The monotony of a life whose sole negative enjoyment consisted in the
persecution of others, induced Captain De Courcy to make occasional
excursions to the different watering-places; and whether that, to a
certain degree, he was schooled by banishment from society at home, or
that he had no opportunity of displaying his diabolical temper, his
prepossessing appearance and well-known riches made him a great
favourite in these marts for beauty. An amiable girl was unfortunate
enough to fix his attention; and a hasty proposal was as hastily
accepted by her friends, and quietly acquiesced in by herself. She
married, and was miserable, until released from her heedless engagement
by death.
There are those who excuse a violent temper in a man, and consider it no
obstacle to happiness in the marriage life. Alas, may they never
discover the fatal error in their own union! Even with the best-hearted
and most fondly attached, with those who will lavish every endearment,
acknowledge their fault, and make every subsequent effort to compensate
for the irritation of the moment, violence of temper must prove the bane
of marriage bliss. Bitter and insulting expressions have escaped,
unheeded at the time, and forgotten by the offending party; but,
although forgiven, never to be forgotten by the other. Like barbed
arrows, they have entered into the heart of her whom he had promised
before God to love and to cherish, and remain there they must, for they
cannot be extracted. Affection may pour balm into the wounds and soothe
them for a time, and, while love fans them with his soft wings, the heat
and pain may be unperceived; but passion again asserts his empire, and
upon his rude attack these ministering angels are forced from their
office of charity, and woman--kind, devoted woman--looks inwardly with
despair upon her wounded and festering heart.
Hurried as she was to an early tomb, the unfortunate wife of Captain De
Courcy had still time to present him with two fine boys, whose infantine
endearments soothed his violence; and, as long as they showed no spirit
of resistance, they were alternately fondled and frightened. But
children are not blind, and the scenes which continually occurred
between their parents, the tears of their mother, and the remarks made
in their presence by the domestics,--soon taught them to view their
father with dread. Captain De Courcy perceived that he was shunned by
his children, the only beings whom he had endeavoured (as far as his
temper would permit) to attach to him. They were dismissed to school at
a very early age, and were soon treated by their father in the same
harsh manner as all those who had the misfortune to be under his baneful
protection. They returned home at holiday time with regret, and the
recommencement of their scholastic duties was a source of delight. The
mother died, and all at home was desolate. The violence of their father
seemed to increase from indulgence; and the youths, who were verging
into manhood, proved that no small portion of the parent's fiery
disposition had been transmitted to them, and showed a spirit of
resistance which ended in their ruin.
William, the eldest of the boys, was, as it were, by birthright, the
first to fall a victim to his father's temper. Struck senseless and
bleeding to the ground for some trifling indiscretion, as he lay
confined to his bed for many subsequent days, he formed the resolution
of seeking his own fortune rather than submit to hourly degradation. At
the period at which this occurred, many years previously to the one of
which we are now writing, the East India Company had but a short time
received its charter, and its directors were not the proud rulers which
they have since become. It never was calculated that a company,
originally consisting of a few enterprising merchants, could ever have
established themselves (even by the most successful of mischievous arts)
the controllers of an immense empire, independent of, and anomalous to,
the constitution of England; or that privileges, granted to stimulate
the enterprise of individuals, would have been the ground of a monopoly,
which, like an enormous incubus, should oppress the nation from the
throne to the cottage. They gladly accepted the offers of all
adventurers; and at that period there was as much eagerness on their
part to secure the services of individuals, as there is now on the part
of applicants to be enrolled on the books of the Company.
William, without acquainting his father, entered into an engagement with
the Company, signed it, and was shipped off, with many others, who, less
fortunate, had been nefariously kidnapped for the same destination. He
arrived in India, rose to the rank of captain, and fell in one of the
actions that were fought at this time. The letter which William left on
the table, directed to his father, informing him of the step he had been
induced to take, was torn to atoms, and stamped upon with rage; and the
bitter malediction of the parent was launched with dreadful vehemence
upon the truant son, in the presence of the one who remained.
And yet there was one man, before whom this haughty and vindictive
spirit quailed, and who had the power to soften, although not wholly to
curb, his impetuosity, one who dared to tell him the truth, expose to
him the folly and wickedness of his conduct, and meet the angry flash of
his eye with composure,--one whose character and office secured him from
insult, and who was neither to be frightened nor diverted from his
purpose of doing good. It was the vicar of the parish, who, much as he
disliked the admiral (for Captain De Courcy had latterly obtained the
rank by seniority on the list), continued his visits to the hall, that
he might appeal for the unfortunate. The admiral would willingly have
shaken him off, but his attempts were in vain. The vicar was firm at
his post, and often successfully pleaded the cause of his parishioners,
who were most of them tenants of the admiral. He was unassisted in his
parochial duties by the curate, a worthy, but infirm and elderly man,
fast sinking into his grave, and whom, out of Christian charity, he
would not remove from his situation, as it would have deprived him of
the means of support.
Edward, the younger brother, naturally sought that happiness abroad
which was denied him at home. The house of the curate was one of his
most favourite resorts, for the old man had a beautiful and only
daughter,--poor Ellen, whose fate we have just recorded. It is
sufficient for the present narrative to state that these two young
people loved and plighted their troth; that for two years they met with
joy and parted with regret, until the approaching dissolution of the old
curate opened their eyes to the dangerous position in which they were
placed. He died; and Edward, who beheld her whom he loved thrown
unprotected and penniless on the world, mustered up the courage of
desperation to state to his father the wishes of his heart.
A peremptory order to leave the house, or abandon Ellen, was the
immediate result; and the indignant young man quitted the roof, and
persuaded the unhappy and fond girl to unite herself to him by
indissoluble ties, in a neighbouring parish, before the vicar had
possession of the facts, or the opportunity to dissuade him from so
imprudent a step. He immediately proceeded to the hall, with a faint
hope of appeasing the irritated parent; but his endeavours were
fruitless, and the admiral poured forth his anathema against his only
child.
Edward now took his wife to a village some miles distant, where, by
their mutual exertions, they contrived for some time to live upon their
earnings; but the birth of their first child, the hero of this tale, and
the expenses attending her sickness, forced him at last (when all
appeals to his father proved in vain) to accept the high bounty that was
offered for men to enter into his Majesty's service, which he did under
the assumed name of Edward Peters.