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THE TWO ADMIRALS.
A Tale BY James Fenimore Cooper
THE AUTHOR OF
"THE PILOT," "RED ROVER," "WATER-WITCH," "HOMEWARD BOUND," ETC.
COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME
REVISED AND CORRECTED
WITH A NEW INTRODUCTION, NOTES, &c,
By the Author.
NEW YORK:
GEORGE P. PUTNAM & Co., 10 PARK PLACE.
1852.
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1851, by
STRINGER & TOWNSEND,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for
the Southern District of New York.
STEREOTYPED BY
BILLIN & BROTHERS,
10 NORTH WILLIAM STREET, N.Y.
R. CRAIGHEAD, PRINTER
Come, all ye kindred chieftains of the deep,
In mighty phalanx round your brother bend;
Hush every murmur that invades his sleep,
And guard the laurel that o'ershades your friend.
_Lines on Trippe._
PREFACE.
It is a strong proof of the diffusive tendency of every thing in this
country, that America never yet collected a fleet. Nothing is wanting to
this display of power but the will. But a fleet requires only one
commander, and a feeling is fast spreading in the country that we ought
to be all commanders; unless the spirit of unconstitutional innovation,
and usurpation, that is now so prevalent, at Washington, be controlled,
we may expect to hear of proposals to send a committee of Congress to
sea, in command of a squadron. We sincerely hope that their first
experiment may be made on the coast of Africa.
It has been said of Napoleon that he never could be made to understand
why his fleets did not obey his orders with the same accuracy, as to
time and place, as his _corps d'armée_. He made no allowances for the
winds and currents, and least of all, did he comprehend that all
important circumstance, that the efficiency of a fleet is necessarily
confined to the rate of sailing of the dullest of its ships. More may be
expected from a squadron of ten sail, all of which shall be average
vessels, in this respect, than from the same number of vessels, of which
one half are fast and the remainder dull. One brigade can march as fast
as another, but it is not so with vessels. The efficiency of a marine,
therefore, depends rather on its working qualities, than on its number
of ships.
Perhaps the best fleet that ever sailed under the English flag, was that
with which Nelson fought the battle of the Nile. It consisted of twelve
or thirteen small seventy-fours, each of approved qualities, and
commanded by an officer of known merit. In all respects it was efficient
and reliable. With such men as Hallowell, Hood, Trowbridge, Foley, Ball,
and others, and with such ships, the great spirit of Nelson was
satisfied. He knew that whatever seamen could do, his comparatively
little force could achieve. When his enemy was discovered at anchor,
though night was approaching and his vessels were a good deal scattered,
he at once determined to put the qualities we have mentioned to the
highest proof, and to attack. This was done without any other order of
battle than that which directed each commander to get as close alongside
of an enemy as possible, the best proof of the high confidence he had in
his ships and in their commanders.
It is now known that all the early accounts of the man[oe]uvring at the
Nile, and of Nelson's reasoning on the subject of anchoring inside and
of doubling on his enemies, is pure fiction. The "Life" by Southey, in
all that relates to this feature of the day, is pure fiction, as,
indeed, are other portions of the work of scarcely less importance. This
fact came to the writer, through the late Commodore (Charles Valentine)
Morris, from Sir Alexander Ball, in the early part of the century. In
that day it would not have done to proclaim it, so tenacious is public
opinion of its errors; but since that time, naval officers of rank have
written on the subject, and stripped the Nile, Trafalgar, &c, of their
poetry, to give the world plain, nautical, and probable accounts of both
those great achievements. The truth, as relates to both battles, was
just as little like the previously published accounts, as well could be.
Nelson knew the great superiority of the English seamen, their facility
in repairing damages, and most of all the high advantage possessed by
the fleets of his country, in the exercise of the assumed right to
impress, a practice that put not only the best seamen of his own
country, but those of the whole world, more or less, at his mercy. His
great merit, at the Nile, was in the just appreciation of these
advantages, and in the extraordinary decision which led him to go into
action just at nightfall, rather than give his enemy time to prepare to
meet the shock.
It is now known that the French were taken, in a great measure, by
surprise. A large portion of their crews were on shore, and did not get
off to their ships at all, and there was scarce a vessel that did not
clear the decks, by tumbling the mess-chests, bags, &c, into the inside
batteries, rendering them, in a measure, useless, when the English
doubled on their line.
It was this doubling on the French line, by anchoring inside, and
putting two ships upon one, that gave Nelson so high a reputation as a
tactician. The merit of this man[oe]uvre belongs exclusively to one of
his captains. As the fleet went in, without any order, keeping as much
to windward as the shoals would permit, Nelson ordered the Vanguard
hove-to, to take a pilot out of a fisherman. This enabled Foley, Hood,
and one or two more to pass that fast ship. It was at this critical
moment that the thought occurred to Foley (we think this was the
officer) to pass the head of the French line, keep dead away, and anchor
inside. Others followed, completely placing their enemies between two
fires. Sir Samuel Hood anchored his ship (the Zealous) on the inner bow
of the most weatherly French ship, where he poured his fire into,
virtually; an unresisting enemy. Notwithstanding the great skill
manifested by the English in their mode of attack, this was the only
two-decked ship in the English fleet that was able to make sail on the
following morning.
Had Nelson led in upon an American fleet, as he did upon the French at
the Nile, he would have seen reason to repent the boldness of the
experiment. Something like it _was_ attempted on Lake Champlain, though
on a greatly diminished scale, and the English were virtually defeated
before they anchored.
The reader who feels an interest in such subjects, will probably detect
the secret process of the mind, by which some of the foregoing facts
have insinuated themselves into this fiction.
THE TWO ADMIRALS
CHAPTER I.
"Then, if he were my brother's.
My brother might not claim him; nor your father,
Being none of his, refuse him: This concludes--
My mother's son did get your father's heir;
Your father's heir must have your father's land."
KING JOHN.
The events we are about to relate, occurred near the middle of the last
century, previously even to that struggle, which it is the fashion of
America to call "the old French War." The opening scene of our tale,
however, must be sought in the other hemisphere, and on the coast of the
mother country. In the middle of the eighteenth century, the American
colonies were models of loyalty; the very war, to which there has just
been allusion, causing the great expenditure that induced the ministry
to have recourse to the system of taxation, which terminated in the
revolution. The family quarrel had not yet commenced. Intensely occupied
with the conflict, which terminated not more gloriously for the British
arms, than advantageously for the British American possessions, the
inhabitants of the provinces were perhaps never better disposed to the
metropolitan state, than at the very period of which we are about to
write. All their early predilections seemed to be gaining strength,
instead of becoming weaker; and, as in nature, the calm is known to
succeed the tempest, the blind attachment of the colony to the parent
country, was but a precursor of the alienation and violent disunion that
were so soon to follow.
Although the superiority of the English seamen was well established, in
the conflicts that took place between the years 1740, and that of 1763,
the naval warfare of the period by no means possessed the very decided
character with which it became stamped, a quarter of a century later. In
our own times, the British marine appears to have improved in quality,
as its enemies, deteriorated. In the year 1812, however, "Greek met
Greek," when, of a verity, came "the tug of war." The great change that
came over the other navies of Europe, was merely a consequence of the
revolutions, which drove experienced men into exile, and which, by
rendering armies all-important even to the existence of the different
states, threw nautical enterprises into the shade, and gave an
engrossing direction to courage and talent, in another quarter. While
France was struggling, first for independence, and next for the mastery
of the continent, a marine was a secondary object; for Vienna, Berlin,
and Moscow, were as easily entered without, as with its aid. To these,
and other similar causes, must be referred the explanation of the
seeming invincibility of the English arms at sea, during the late great
conflicts of Europe; an invincibility that was more apparent than real,
however, as many well-established defeats were, even then, intermingled
with her thousand victories.
From the time when her numbers could furnish succour of this nature,
down to the day of separation, America had her full share in the
exploits of the English marine. The gentry of the colonies willingly
placed their sons in the royal navy, and many a bit of square bunting
has been flying at the royal mast-heads of King's ships, in the
nineteenth century, as the distinguishing symbols of flag-officers, who
had to look for their birth-places among ourselves. In the course of a
chequered life, in which we have been brought in collision with as great
a diversity of rank, professions, and characters, as often falls to the
lot of any one individual, we have been thrown into contact with no less
than eight English admirals, of American birth; while, it has never yet
been our good fortune to meet with a countryman, who has had this rank
bestowed on him by his own government. On one occasion, an Englishman,
who had filled the highest civil office connected with the marine of his
nation, observed to us, that the only man he then knew, in the British
navy, in whom he should feel an entire confidence in entrusting an
important command, was one of these translated admirals; and the thought
unavoidably passed through our mind, that this favourite commander had
done well in adhering to the conventional, instead of clinging to his
natural allegiance, inasmuch as he might have toiled for half a century,
in the service of his native land, and been rewarded with a rank that
would merely put him on a level with a colonel in the army! How much
longer this short-sighted policy, and grievous injustice, are to
continue, no man can say; but it is safe to believe, that it is to last
until some legislator of influence learns the simple truth, that the
fancied reluctance of popular constituencies to do right, oftener exists
in the apprehensions of their representatives, than in reality.--But to
our tale.
England enjoys a wide-spread reputation for her fogs; but little do they
know how much a fog may add to natural scenery, who never witnessed its
magical effects, as it has caused a beautiful landscape to coquette with
the eye, in playful and capricious changes. Our opening scene is in one
of these much derided fogs; though, let it always be remembered, it was
a fog of June, and not of November. On a high head-land of the coast of
Devonshire, stood a little station-house, which had been erected with a
view to communicate by signals, with the shipping, that sometimes lay at
anchor in an adjacent roadstead. A little inland, was a village, or
hamlet, that it suits our purposes to call Wychecombe; and at no great
distance from the hamlet itself, surrounded by a small park, stood a
house of the age of Henry VII., which was the abode of Sir Wycherly
Wychecombe, a baronet of the creation of King James I., and the
possessor of an improveable estate of some three or four thousand a
year, which had been transmitted to him, through a line of ancestors,
that ascended as far back as the times of the Plantagenets. Neither
Wychecombe, nor the head-land, nor the anchorage, was a place of note;
for much larger and more favoured hamlets, villages, and towns, lay
scattered about that fine portion of England; much better roadsteads and
bays could generally be used by the coming or the parting vessel; and
far more important signal-stations were to be met with, all along that
coast. Nevertheless, the roadstead was entered when calms or adverse
winds rendered it expedient; the hamlet had its conveniences, and, like
most English hamlets, its beauties; and the hall and park were not
without their claims to state and rural magnificence. A century since,
whatever the table of precedency or Blackstone may say, an English
baronet, particularly one of the date of 1611, was a much greater
personage than he is to-day; and an estate of £4000 a year, more
especially if not rack-rented, was of an extent, and necessarily of a
local consequence, equal to one of near, or quite three times the same
amount, in our own day. Sir Wycherly, however, enjoyed an advantage that
was of still greater importance, and which was more common in 1745, than
at the present moment. He had no rival within fifteen miles of him, and
the nearest potentate was a nobleman of a rank and fortune that put all
competition out of the question; one who dwelt in courts, the favourite
of kings; leaving the baronet, as it might be, in undisturbed enjoyment
of all the local homage. Sir Wycherly had once been a member of
Parliament, and only once. In his youth, he had been a fox-hunter; and a
small property in Yorkshire had long been in the family, as a sort of
foothold on such enjoyments; but having broken a leg, in one of his
leaps, he had taken refuge against _ennui_, by sitting a single session
in the House of Commons, as the member of a borough that lay adjacent to
his hunting-box. This session sufficed for his whole life; the good
baronet having taken the matter so literally, as to make it a point to
be present at all the sittings; a sort of tax on his time, which, as it
came wholly unaccompanied by profit, was very likely soon to tire out
the patience of an old fox-hunter. After resigning his seat, he retired
altogether to Wychecombe, where he passed the last fifty years,
extolling England, and most especially that part of it in which his own
estates lay; in abusing the French, with occasional inuendoes against
Spain and Holland; and in eating and drinking. He had never travelled;
for, though Englishmen of his station often did visit the continent, a
century ago, they oftener did not. It was the courtly and the noble, who
then chiefly took this means of improving their minds and manners; a
class, to which a baronet by no means necessarily belonged. To conclude,
Sir Wycherly was now eighty-four; hale, hearty, and a bachelor. He had
been born the oldest of five brothers; the cadets taking refuge, as
usual, in the inns of court, the church, the army, and the navy; and
precisely in the order named. The lawyer had actually risen to be a
judge, by the style and appellation of Baron Wychecombe; had three
illegitimate children by his housekeeper, and died, leaving to the
eldest thereof, all his professional earnings, after buying commissions
for the two younger in the army. The divine broke his neck, while yet a
curate, in a fox-hunt; dying unmarried, and so far as is generally
known, childless. This was Sir Wycherly's favourite brother; who, he was
accustomed to say, "lost his life, in setting an example of field-sports
to his parishioners." The soldier was fairly killed in battle, before he
was twenty; and the name of the sailor suddenly disappeared from the
list of His Majesty's lieutenants, about half a century before the time
when our tale opens, by shipwreck. Between the sailor and the head of
the family, however, there had been no great sympathy; in consequence,
as it was rumoured, of a certain beauty's preference for the latter,
though this preference produced no _suites_, inasmuch as the lady died a
maid. Mr. Gregory Wychecombe, the lieutenant in question, was what is
termed a "wild boy;" and it was the general impression, when his parents
sent him to sea, that the ocean would now meet with its match. The hopes
of the family centred in the judge, after the death of the curate, and
it was a great cause of regret, to those who took an interest in its
perpetuity and renown, that this dignitary did not marry; since the
premature death of all the other sons had left the hall, park, and
goodly farms, without any known legal heir. In a word, this branch of
the family of Wychecombe would be extinct, when Sir Wycherly died, and
the entail become useless. Not a female inheritor, even, or a male
inheritor through females, could be traced; and it had become imperative
on Sir Wycherly to make a will, lest the property should go off, the
Lord knew where; or, what was worse, it should escheat. It is true, Tom
Wychecombe, the judge's eldest son, often gave dark hints about a
secret, and a timely marriage between his parents, a fact that would
have superseded the necessity for all devises, as the property was
strictly tied up, so far as the lineal descendants of a certain _old_
Sir Wycherly were concerned; but the present Sir Wycherly had seen his
brother, in his last illness, on which occasion, the following
conversation had taken place.
"And now, brother Thomas," said the baronet, in a friendly and consoling
manner; "having, as one may say, prepared your soul for heaven, by these
prayers and admissions of your sins, a word may be prudently said,
concerning the affairs of this world. You know I am childless--that is
to say,--"
"I understand you, Wycherly," interrupted the dying man, "you're a
_bachelor_."
"That's it, Thomas; and bachelors _ought_ not to have children. Had our
poor brother James escaped that mishap, he might have been sitting at
your bed-side at this moment, and _he_ could have told us all about it.
St. James I used to call him; and well did he deserve the name!"
"St. James the Least, then, it must have been, Wycherly."
"It's a dreadful thing to have no heir, Thomas! Did you ever know a case
in your practice, in which another estate was left so completely without
an heir, as this of ours?"
"It does not often happen, brother; heirs are usually more abundant than
estates."
"So I thought. Will the king get the title as well as the estate,
brother, if it should escheat, as you call it?"
"Being the fountain of honour, he will be rather indifferent about the
baronetcy."
"I should care less if it went to the next sovereign, who is English
born. Wychecombe has always belonged to Englishmen."
"That it has; and ever will, I trust. You have only to select an heir,
when I am gone, and by making a will, with proper devises, the property
will not escheat. Be careful to use the full terms of perpetuity."
"Every thing was so comfortable, brother, while you were in health,"
said Sir Wycherly, fidgeting; "you were my natural heir--"
"Heir of entail," interrupted the judge.
"Well, well, _heir_, at all events; and _that_ was a prodigious comfort
to a man like myself, who has a sort of religious scruples about making
a will. I have heard it whispered that you were actually married to
Martha; in which case, Tom might drop into our shoes, so readily,
without any more signing and sealing."
"A _filius nullius_," returned the other, too conscientious to lend
himself to a deception of that nature.
"Why, brother, Tom often seems to me to favour such an idea, himself."
"No wonder, Wycherly, for the idea would greatly favour him. Tom and his
brothers are all _filii nullorum_, God forgive me for that same wrong."
"I wonder neither Charles nor Gregory thought of marrying before they
lost their lives for their king and country," put in Sir Wycherly, in an
upbraiding tone, as if he thought his penniless brethren had done him an
injury in neglecting to supply him with an heir, though he had been so
forgetful himself of the same great duty. "I did think of bringing in a
bill for providing heirs for unmarried persons, without the trouble and
responsibility of making wills."
"That would have been a great improvement on the law of descents--I hope
you wouldn't have overlooked the ancestors."
"Not I--everybody would have got his rights. They tell me poor Charles
never spoke after he was shot; but I dare say, did we know the truth, he
regretted sincerely that he never married."
"There, for once, Wycherly, I think you are likely to be wrong. A _femme
sole_ without food, is rather a helpless sort of a person."
"Well, well, I wish he had married. What would it have been to me, had
he left a dozen widows?"
"It might have raised some awkward questions as to dowry; and if each
left a son, the title and estates would have been worse off than they
are at present, without widows or legitimate children."
"Any thing would be better than having no heir. I believe I'm the first
baronet of Wychecombe who has been obliged to make a will!"
"Quite likely," returned the brother, drily; "I remember to have got
nothing from the last one, in that way. Charles and Gregory fared no
better. Never mind, Wycherly, you behaved like a father to us all."
"I don't mind signing cheques, in the least; but wills have an
irreligious appearance, in my eyes. There are a good many Wychecombes,
in England; I wonder some of them are not of our family! They tell me a
hundredth cousin is just as good an heir, as a first-born son."
"Failing nearer of kin. But we have no hundredth cousins of the _whole
blood_."
"There are the Wychecombes of Surrey, brother Thomas--?"
"Descended from a bastard of the second baronet, and out of the line of
descent, altogether."
"But the Wychecombes of Hertfordshire, I have always heard were of our
family, and legitimate."
"True, as regards matrimony--rather too much of it, by the way. They
branched off in 1487, long before the creation, and have nothing to do
with the entail; the first of their line coming from old Sir Michael
Wychecombe, Kt. and Sheriff of Devonshire, by his second wife Margery;
while we are derived from the same male ancestor, through Wycherly, the
only son by Joan, the first wife. Wycherly, and Michael, the son of
Michael and Margery, were of the half-blood, as respects each other, and
could not be heirs of blood. What was true of the ancestors is true of
the descendants."
"But we came of the same ancestor, and the estate is far older than
1487."
"Quite true, brother; nevertheless, the half-blood can't take; so says
the perfection of human reason."
"I never could understand these niceties of the law," said Sir Wycherly,
sighing; "but I suppose they are all right. There are so many
Wychecombes scattered about England, that I should think some one among
them all might be my heir!"
"Every man of them bears a bar in his arms, or is of the half-blood."
"You are quite sure, brother, that Tom is a _filius nullus_?" for the
baronet had forgotten most of the little Latin he ever knew, and
translated this legal phrase into "no son."
"_Filius nullius_, Sir Wycherly, the son of nobody; your reading would
literally make Tom nobody; whereas, he is only the son of nobody."
"But, brother, he is your son, and as like you, as two hounds of the
same litter."
"I am _nullus_, in the eye of the law, as regards poor Tom; who, until
he marries, and has children of his own, is altogether without legal
kindred. Nor do I know that legitimacy would make Tom any better; for he
is presuming and confident enough for the heir apparent to the throne,
as it is."
"Well, there's this young sailor, who has been so much at the station
lately, since he was left ashore for the cure of his wounds. 'Tis a most
gallant lad; and the First Lord has sent him a commission, as a reward
for his good conduct, in cutting out the Frenchman. I look upon him as a
credit to the name; and I make no question, he is, some way or other, of
our family."
"Does he claim to be so?" asked the judge, a little quickly, for he
distrusted men in general, and thought, from all he had heard, that some
attempt might have been made to practise on his brother's simplicity. "I
thought you told me that he came from the American colonies?"
"So he does; he's a native of Virginia, as was his father before him."
"A convict, perhaps; or a servant, quite likely, who has found the name
of his former master, more to his liking than his own. Such things are
common, they tell me, beyond seas."
"Yes, if he were anything but an American, I might wish he were my
heir," returned Sir Wycherly, in a melancholy tone; "but it would be
worse than to let the lands escheat, as you call it, to place an
American in possession of Wychecombe. The manors have always had English
owners, down to the present moment, thank God!"
"Should they have any other, it will be your own fault, Wycherly. When I
am dead, and that will happen ere many weeks, the human being will not
be living, who can take that property, after your demise, in any other
manner than by escheat, or by devise. There will then be neither heir of
entail, nor heir at law; and you may make whom you please, master of
Wychecombe, provided he be not an alien."
"Not an American, I suppose, brother; an American is an alien, of
course."
"Humph!--why, not in law, whatever he may be according to our English
notions. Harkee, brother Wycherly; I've never asked you, or wished you
to leave the estate to Tom, or his younger brothers; for one, and all,
are _filii nullorum_--as I term 'em, though my brother Record will have
it, it ought to be _filii nullius_, as well as _filius nullius_. Let
that be as it may; no bastard should lord it at Wychecombe; and rather
than the king; should get the lands, to bestow on some favourite, I
would give it to the half-blood."
"Can that be done without making a will, brother Thomas?"
"It cannot, Sir Wycherly; nor with a will, so long as an heir of entail
can be found."
"Is there no way of making Tom a _filius somebody_, so that _he_ can
succeed?"
"Not under our laws. By the civil law, such a thing might have been
done, and by the Scotch law; but not under the perfection of reason."
"I wish you knew this young Virginian! The lad bears both of my names,
Wycherly Wychecombe."
"He is not a _filius Wycherly_--is he, baronet?"
"Fie upon thee, brother Thomas! Do you think I have less candour than
thyself, that I would not acknowledge my own flesh and blood. I never
saw the youngster, until within the last six months, when he was landed
from the roadstead, and brought to Wychecombe, to be cured of his
wounds; nor ever heard of him before. When they told me his name was
Wycherly Wychecombe, I could do no less than call and see him. The poor
fellow lay at death's door for a fortnight; and it was while we had
little or no hope of saving him, that I got the few family anecdotes
from him. Now, that would be good evidence in law, I believe, Thomas."
"For certain things, had the lad really died. Surviving, he must be
heard on his _voire dire_, and under oath. But what was his tale?"
"A very short one. He told me his father was a Wycherly Wychecombe, and
that his grandfather had been a Virginia planter. This was all he seemed
to know of his ancestry."
"And probably all there was of them. My Tom is not the only _filius nullius_
that has been among us, and this grandfather, if he has not actually
stolen the name, has got it by these doubtful means. As for the
Wycherly, it should pass for nothing. Learning that there is a line of
baronets of this name, every pretender to the family would be apt to
call a son Wycherly."
"The line will shortly be ended, brother," returned Sir Wycherly,
sighing. "I wish you might be mistaken; and, after all, Tom shouldn't
prove to be that _filius_ you call him."
Mr. Baron Wychecombe, as much from _esprit de corps_ as from moral
principle, was a man of strict integrity, in all things that related to
_meum_ and _tuum_. He was particularly rigid in his notions concerning
the transmission of real estate, and the rights of primogeniture. The
world had taken little interest in the private history of a lawyer, and
his sons having been born before his elevation to the bench, he passed
with the public for a widower, with a family of promising boys. Not one
in a hundred of his acquaintances even, suspected the fact; and nothing
would have been easier for him, than to have imposed on his brother, by
inducing him to make a will under some legal mystification or other, and
to have caused Tom Wychecombe to succeed to the property in question, by
an indisputable title. There would have been no great difficulty even,
in his son's assuming and maintaining his right to the baronetcy,
inasmuch as there would be no competitor, and the crown officers were
not particularly rigid in inquiring into the claims of those who assumed
a title that brought with it no political privileges. Still, he was far
from indulging in any such project. To him it appeared that the
Wychecombe estate ought to go with the principles that usually governed
such matters; and, although he submitted to the dictum of the common
law, as regarded the provision which excluded the half-blood from
inheriting, with the deference of an English common-law lawyer, he saw
and felt, that, failing the direct line, Wychecombe ought to revert to
the descendants of Sir Michael by his second son, for the plain reason
that they were just as much derived from the person who had acquired the
estate, as his brother Wycherly and himself. Had there been descendants
of females, even, to interfere, no such opinion would have existed; but,
as between an escheat, or a devise in favour of a _filius nillius_, or
of the descendant of a _filius nullius_, the half-blood possessed every
possible advantage. In his legal eyes, legitimacy was everything,
although he had not hesitated to be the means of bringing into the world
seven illegitimate children, that being the precise number Martha had
the credit of having borne him, though three only survived. After
reflecting a moment, therefore, he turned to the baronet, and addressed
him more seriously than he had yet done, in the present dialogue; first
taking a draught of cordial to give him strength for the occasion.
"Listen to me, brother Wycherly," said the judge, with a gravity that at
once caught the attention of the other. "You know something of the
family history, and I need do no more than allude to it. Our ancestors
were the knightly possessors of Wychecombe, centuries before King James
established the rank of baronet. When our great-grandfather, Sir
Wycherly, accepted the patent of 1611, he scarcely did himself honour;
for, by aspiring higher, he might have got a peerage. However, a baronet
he became, and for the first time since Wychecombe was Wychecombe, the
estate was entailed, to do credit to the new rank. Now, the first Sir
Wycherly had three sons, and no daughter. Each of these sons succeeded;
the two eldest as bachelors, and the youngest was our grandfather. Sir
Thomas, the fourth baronet, left an only child, Wycherly, our father.
Sir Wycherly, our father, had five sons, Wycherly his successor,
yourself, and the sixth baronet; myself; James; Charles; and Gregory.
James broke his neck at your side. The two last lost their lives in the
king's service, unmarried; and neither you, nor I, have entered into the
holy state of matrimony. I cannot survive a month, and the hopes of
perpetuating the direct line of the family, rests with yourself. This
accounts for all the descendants of Sir Wycherly, the first baronet; and
it also settles the question of heirs of entail, of whom there are none
after myself. To go back beyond the time of King James I.: Twice did the
elder lines of the Wychecombes fail, between the reign of King Richard
II. and King Henry VII., when Sir Michael succeeded. Now, in each of
these cases, the law disposed of the succession; the youngest branches
of the family, in both instances, getting the estate. It follows that
agreeably to legal decisions had at the time, when the facts must have
been known, that the Wychecombes were reduced to these younger lines.
Sir Michael had two wives. From the first _we_ are derived--from the
last, the Wychecombes of Hertfordshire--since known as baronets of that
county, by the style and title of Sir Reginald Wychecombe of
Wychecombe-Regis, Herts."
"The present Sir Reginald can have no claim, being of the half-blood,"
put in Sir Wycherly, with a brevity of manner that denoted feeling. "The
half-blood is as bad as a _nullius_, as you call Tom."
"Not quite. A person of the half-blood may be as legitimate as the
king's majesty; whereas, a nullius is of _no_ blood. Now, suppose for a
moment, Sir Wycherly, that you had been a son by a first wife, and I had
been a son by a second--would there have been no relationship between
us?"
"What a question, Tom, to put to your own brother!"
"But I should not be your _own_ brother, my good sir; only your _half_
brother; of the _half_, and not of the _whole_ blood."
"What of that--what of that?--your father would have been my father--we
would have had the same name--the same family history--the same family
_feelings_--poh! poh!--we should have been both Wychecombes, exactly as
we are to-day."
"Quite true, and yet I could not have been your heir, nor you mine. The
estate would escheat to the king, Hanoverian or Scotchman, before it
came to me. Indeed, to _me_ it could never come."
"Thomas, you are trifling with my ignorance, and making matters worse
than they really are. Certainly, as long as you lived, you would be _my_
heir!"
"Very true, as to the £20,000 in the funds, but not as to the baronetcy
and Wychecombe. So far as the two last are concerned, I am heir of
blood, and of entail, of the body of Sir Wycherly Wychecombe, the first
baronet, and the maker of the entail."
"Had there been no entail, and had I died a child, who would have
succeeded our father, supposing there had been two mothers?"
"I, as the next surviving son."
"There!--I knew it must be so!" exclaimed Sir Wycherly, in triumph; "and
all this time you have been joking with me!"
"Not so fast, brother of mine--not so fast. I should be of the _whole_
blood, as respected our father, and all the Wychecombes that have gone
before him; but of the _half_-blood, as respected _you_. From our father
I might have taken, as his heir-at-law: but from _you_, never, having
been of the _half_-blood."
"I would have made a will, in that case, Thomas, and left you every
farthing," said Sir Wycherly, with feeling.
"That is just what I wish you to do with Sir Reginald Wychecombe. You
must take him; a _filius nullius_, in the person of my son Tom; a
stranger; or let the property escheat; for, we are so peculiarly placed
as not to have a known relative, by either the male or female lines; the
maternal ancestors being just as barren of heirs as the paternal. Our
good mother was the natural daughter of the third Earl of Prolific; our
grandmother was the last of her race, so far as human ken can discover;
our great-grandmother is said to have had semi-royal blood in her veins,
without the aid of the church, and beyond that it would be hopeless to
attempt tracing consanguinity on that side of the house. No, Wycherly;
it is Sir Reginald who has the best right to the land; Tom, or one of
his brothers, an utter stranger, or His Majesty, follow. Remember that
estates of £4000 a year, don't often escheat, now-a-days."
"If you'll draw up a will, brother, I'll leave it all to Tom," cried the
baronet, with sudden energy. "Nothing need be said about the _nullius_;
and when I'm gone, he'll step quietly into my place."
Nature triumphed a moment in the bosom of the father; but habit, and the
stern sense of right, soon overcame the feeling. Perhaps certain doubts,
and a knowledge of his son's real character, contributed their share
towards the reply.
"It ought not to be, Sir Wycherly," returned the judge, musing, "Tom has
no right to Wychecombe, and Sir Reginald has the best moral right
possible, though the law cuts him off. Had Sir Michael made the entail,
instead of our great-grandfather, he would have come in, as a matter of
course."
"I never liked Sir Reginald Wychecombe," said the baronet, stubbornly.
"What of that?--He will not trouble you while living, and when dead it
will be all the same. Come--come--I will draw the will myself, leaving
blanks for the name; and when it is once done, you will sign it,
cheerfully. It is the last legal act I shall ever perform, and it will
be a suitable one, death being constantly before me."
This ended the dialogue. The will was drawn according to promise; Sir
Wycherly took it to his room to read, carefully inserted the name of Tom
Wychecombe in all the blank spaces, brought it back, duly executed the
instrument in his brother's presence, and then gave the paper to his
nephew to preserve, with a strong injunction on him to keep the secret,
until the instrument should have force by his own death. Mr. Baron
Wychecombe died in six weeks, and the baronet returned to his residence,
a sincere mourner for the loss of an only brother. A more unfortunate
selection of an heir could not have been made, as Tom Wychecombe was, in
reality, the son of a barrister in the Temple; the fancied likeness to
the reputed father existing only in the imagination of his credulous
uncle.