Читать книгу Quintus Servinton - Henry Savery - Страница 9

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"Give me your hand, and let me see

Your future fate, and Heaven's decree."

It was at the beginning of August, 1772, that a gentleman who was travelling on horseback, across the moors in the neighbourhood of the Tees, accompanied by a faithful and trusty servant, was met by a troop of gipsies, the foremost or leader of whom approached, with the view apparently of accosting him. He was tall and of very erect stature, as if, in early life, he had been a soldier, and though his ragged and tattered garments, now bespoke too plainly the ignominy of the calling he had adopted, there was a certain something in his manner, an air of superiority in his gait, which commanded respect, in spite of his habiliments, and denoted full plainly that he had seen better days.

The other members of the party, were a mixed assemblage of old and young men and women, with some half-naked children; and following at a little distance in the rear, was an apology for a cart drawn by a miserable horse, serving as a conveyance for most of the moveables of the itinerants. At first, Mr. Servinton, for so the gentleman was named, felt a momentary apprehension, that the property he had about him, might be endangered by such company—a feeling, not likely to be greatly relieved, by any dependence he might have upon his attendant Sam, he being one of those, who think discretion is the better part of valour; and that, "he who fights and runs away, may live to fight another day."

Any idea of danger, was however, but transient; for the countenance of the leader, and his mild and placid manner, were not reconcileable with the pursuits of persons, disposed to violence; and before the two parties absolutely met, all perturbation, even on Sam's part, was removed.

"It's a soft morning, Sir," said the leader, gently doffing a cap, made of the skin of some animal from which none of the fur had been taken.

"It is;" replied Mr. Servinton, "but pray, my good folks, which way are you travelling? for I'll tell you what, 'tis my duty as a Justice of the Peace, bids me keep the country clear of vagrants, and the appearance of your troop, seems to bespeak that I shall be obliged to use my interference, if you think of taking up your quarters in this neighbourhood."

"Save you, and bless your bonny face," replied one of the females of the party—"I'm sure, the heart that lies under it, cannot be a hard one—and we're only going to Carlisle, your Honor, and only meant to stay in yonder copse for a day or two, till we're a little rested;—an your Honor will be so kind as to shut your Honor's eyes till we are gone, I'll tell your Honor's fortune,—and if 'tis like your face, it must be a happy one."

Mr. Servinton was one of those good-natured, unaffected country Gentlemen, who are an honor to England. The eldest son of a long and respectable line of ancestry, well educated, accustomed from his infancy, to mix with persons of the highest rank in his County, possessing a handsome patrimony in some valuable estates, to which he had considerably added by purchase, he spent the greatest part of his time, in the bosom of his family, at a large, old-fashioned hall, near the village of Lartingham, devoting his chief attention to such pursuits as usually mark a country life, but relieving their monotony by indulging a taste for drawing, and an ardent attachment to classic literature—in both which he was a proficient. With him, the Commission of the Peace was not made the means of enhancing an imaginary importance among his neighbours, nor of oppressing the poor by a vexatious exercise of power; nor, in a word, of ever departing from the principle of tempering justice with mercy. It therefore was by no means difficult to persuade him, not to interrupt the proceedings of his new acquaintances, provided they conducted themselves peaceably and orderly; nor, as he was not altogether free from curiosity of disposition, was he inclined to lose the opportunity of learning what would be pretended to be uttered, as his future destiny. Accordingly, he briefly addressed the troop, in reply to the appeal that had been made him, observing that, as they had not been brought before him in his Magisterial capacity, he would not interfere with them, unless their own behaviour rendered it necessary; then turning to the female speaker, and throwing her a sixpence, he said, "Come my good woman; let's have a trial of your skill—let's know what's to be my fortune."

The woman, pleased that her request had been granted, and flattered by the easy familiar tone, by which she had been accosted;—a tone, always at the command of a true Gentleman, without its being allowed in reply, immediately stepped forward, and muttering certain unintelligible words, proceeded to investigate the lines on Mr. Servinton's palm. Her shrewd dark countenance underwent many changes, whilst she was making her observations. Sometimes a smile, as of apparent delight, played around her mouth, and caused her to exhibit a regular set of teeth, which, contrasted with the general contour of her face, gave the whole, rather an engaging appearance. At others, her melancholy, still cast of features, implied that all was not agreeable—and at one particular moment, a tear came into her piercing black eye, and filling it quite to overflowing, ran over upon her cheek, and was immediately succeeded by a smile; which presently again gave way to tears and sighs; the whole being closed by a laugh, as of pleasure, a clapping of hands, and an exclamation—"I see it all! I see it all!—he's happy at last!"

Mr. Servinton, although perfectly free from superstition, and possessing a strong, well-cultivated mind, could not witness the passing scene without interest. He desired the woman to explain what had so affected her; and in reply she addressed him as follows:——

"Sweets and sours——more sours than sweets—— A new-born Son your Honor greets;"——

and then, pausing a little, and assuming a most solemn tone, added, "Your children will be a score, less two. He who is now entering the world, will give you as much pleasure, and as much pain, as any of them—thrice will he be in danger of sudden or violent death—thrice will he undergo great reverses of fortune—his thrice tenth year will be the commencing scene of his disasters—when he reaches his fortieth, he will have passed through all dangers, and will attain a happy and peaceful old age; but warn him from his cradle of from thirty to forty."

The two parties now separated; Mr. Servinton to proceed to his own mansion, which was only a few miles distant, and where, he was now returning, after a months absence, in a neighbouring county, whither he had gone, according to his annual custom, for the purpose of looking after his estates, and meeting his tenants. Although an addition to his already large family, had been expected, he had not yet heard that the event had taken place; and scarcely allowing himself to think what weight to attach to the Gipsy's prophecy, opposed as it was to his conviction of the absurdity of such pretensions to a knowledge of the future, he could not so far divest himself of it, as to help mentally feeling that, whether or not, it should influence his mind, would in some measure depend upon the fulfilment or otherwise, of the first part of the prediction.

Thus ruminating, he travelled slowly along his way, scarcely noticing the endeavours made by his attendant every now and then, to introduce a word edgeways, until at length, Sam, rather elevating his voice, observed, "I'm thinking, Master, these Witches must be nation cunning, thus to tell folk's fortunes—I had my fortune told when I was a young man, and it has all come true."

"Has it?" replied Mr. Servinton, "Pray what might you have been told, Sam?"

"That I should never be married, Master, for one thing, and that I should live twenty years in one place for another. As to the first, I was then courting Margaret Bousfield, but I knew that if I married against the will of these Witches, and their like, we should have nothing but trouble, and so I broke off the match—and as for the other part, your Honor knows how true that has proved."

"You should not call such people Witches, Sam!" said his Master, "they are Gipsies, and their pretensions to divination, serve only to amuse the ignorant and vulgar. You did very wrong, to desert a poor girl, upon such insufficient grounds; there are few things more cruel or more wicked, than to obtain a woman's affections and then leave her. I had really thought better of you, than to have believed the stories I formerly heard, with regard to you and Margaret, and I am doubly sorry to find them confirmed by yourself, upon so improper a cause, as a Gipsy's fortune-telling." He then went on to explain to Sam, that Gipsies abound in all parts of Europe, particularly in Hungary, where they travel in large bands or hordes like Arabs, gaily dressed in red and green, and often well armed and mounted. They are every where averse to regular employment, preferring to lead a rambling, desultory life. In Prussia, they are sometime enrolled as soldiers, bon gré, mal gré; but even when disciplined to the use of arms, they never forget their early habits; nor do they omit seizing every opportunity of showing their dislike to the service. He was continuing in this manner, further illustrating his observations by some anecdotes, characteristic of the race, when he came within sight of Lartingham Hall, the smoke from whose chimnies, curling as it rose among the trees, was his first welcome home; nor can there ever be a welcome, that is more grateful to the eyes of the homeward bound traveller.

Lartingham Hall was a building rather commodious than handsome. It stood in the centre of a ring fence, inclosing one hundred and twenty acres, bounded on all sides by a narrow lane, whose hedges, formed of a great variety of flowering shrubs and trees, were now exhibiting their several beauties in many different hues and forms. The inclosure had formerly been a park, but was now divided into several large fields, those nearest the house being thickly planted with ornamental timber, in orchards and shrubberies; the house itself, standing in the midst of a smooth, highly cultivated lawn. At a short distance in the rear, were extensive and well-arranged kitchen-gardens, hot-houses, and pineries; and the offices, all which were extremely convenient, were so situated as scarcely to be perceptible from the parts of the house, usually inhabited by the family.

Mr. Servinton had been disposed to while away the ideas floating in his mind in consequence of the occurrence of the morning, and had therefore the more readily entered into conversation with his servant; but Sam was at all times a great favorite with his Master—he had lived with him previous to his marriage—was faithful, and warmly attached to the family; and, in virtue of these and other claims or qualifications, had become a sort of Major domo with the other servants; over whom, as well as the children, he often exercised an authority, equal at least, if not superior, to that assumed by his master.

Just as he had rode a few paces forwards, to open the great gate, leading through a stately avenue of ash-trees to the house, a groom was seen riding rapidly across the common they had lately passed, wearing Mr. Servinton's grey livery, and following a gentleman who was pressing his horse greatly beyond his ordinary speed. As they were proceeding at a much quicker rate than Mr. Servinton, they were soon sufficiently near to enable him to discover, that the gentleman was Mr. Bates, Mrs. Servinton's medical attendant upon occasions that added to her matronly honours; and the truth at once flashed across his mind, that in one part, at least, the Gipsy's prediction had been accomplished: and ere he reached the house he was overtaken by the Doctor, when he was informed, that about two hours previously, the servant had been sent to summon him, with orders to spare no haste.

At the hall door was the head nurse, who had the almost unlimited control of the numerous young progeny, waiting full of smiles and simpers, to announce that her dear Mistress had been complaining early in the forenoon; that although James had been immediately dispatched for Mr. Bates, a fine healthy boy had been born long before he could have reached his destination; and that both mother and son "were doing as well as could be expected."

So soon as his feelings, alike of agitation and agreeable surprise, were a little subsided, Mr. Servinton retired to his room, full of deep musings upon the singular occurrence that had preceded the birth of this, his fifth son. He was a most affectionate husband, and truly fond of his children; but a birth was so regularly an annual, that much of the charm of the infantine hours of offspring was deadened by its constant recurrence; and it was observed, by the acquaintances of the family, as a mark of character rather surprising in a man of his disposition, that his attachment to his children was comparatively little developed, until they advanced towards puberty, when he became the fondest of parents.

If the untoward events that happen to most of us, in our passage through life, be traced to their true and legitimate source, they will but too frequently, be found to owe their origin to certain defects of early education. We very commonly see parents almost totally indifferent as to what impressions their children receive; what associations they form; or what habits they acquire during their infancy, fondly thinking, that it is ample time as yet, to correct any evil propensity they may acquire; and full early, to practise any restraint upon the childs engaging follies. We thus observe parents, who in after life, cannot do enough for their children, negatively correct only, in their conduct towards them, so long as they continue in the nursery; forgetting Solomon's proverb respecting the training up of youth, and adopting the very course which their good sense and usually right notions, would have led them to reprobate in their neighbours. The sequel will demonstrate whether or not there is a possibility, that any part of these observations are borne out by the system of education, adopted in the family, to whose acquaintance the Reader is now introduced.

Shortly after Mr. Servinton had withdrawn to his own room, or library as it was commonly called, a tap at the door announced Mr. Bate, who had just left the lady of the house and her child, both "doing remarkably well." Mr. Servinton, in the course of conversation, narrated the events of the forenoon, and inquired the Doctor's opinion upon them. "'Pon my honour, and under correction, Sir," he replied, "I am inclined always to view such events as proceeding from nothing more nor less than an illusion of the brain, bespeaking great irritability of the system, and for which, no better treatment can be applied, than a plentiful application of the cat o'nine tails, after an immersion in a horse-pond. In other words, Sir, I think you would have consulted your dignity as a Magistrate, if you had committed the whole posse comitatus to the County Bridewell, instead of allowing them to talk to you,—but I speak under correction."

"That would have been rather severe to unoffending persons," replied Mr. Servinton, "but, however, we will not discuss the question at present. Perhaps on another occasion, I may adduce arguments, which may lead you to a different view of the question. I am now anxious to see my boy, whose destiny is foretold to be so chequered, and also his excellent Mother. I assure you I attach no importance to the affair, but I think 'twill be as well to make a memorandum of what has happened this morning, as it may serve for reflection hereafter."

"Unquestionably, Sir, and under correction," was proceeding Mr. Bate, when the door opened, and it was announced to Mr. Servinton, that his lady wished to see him.

As he mounted the wide handsome staircase, that led to the upper apartments, he was ruminating whether or not, he should acquaint his wife, with any part of what had occurred, and was approaching, as a matter of course, the door of the usual bed-chamber, when he was told by the servant in attendance, that her Mistress was occupying the chintz room, as she had been so suddenly taken ill, that her own, was not in readiness. He said nothing, but a different room having been used for this, his eleventh child, to that in which all the others had drawn their first breath, struck him for the moment, as rather fresh cause for wonder.

It has been already said that, he was naturally of a very affectionate disposition, and, if the interview with his wife, had not now taken place, under the interesting circumstances that attended it, the mere fact of a month's absence, would have rendered a first meeting, an event of considerable influence upon his feelings. Advancing to the bedside, and kindly saluting her, he said but little at the moment, so much was he overcome by conflicting emotions, but gently retaining her hand, his eloquent countenance plainly bespoke the ardour of his attachment. Mrs. Servinton, equally glad to see him, returned his caresses in the placid, quiet way by which she was distinguished, and then observed,—"I'm sure Mr. Servinton, mine is a dreadful life—no sooner one child can walk, than there's another in arms—I'm sure I hope none of my daughters will ever marry—they little know what they would have to go through.—We have another boy.—I really thought four were quite enough, and I don't know what we shall do with any more.—However, I have hired a good wet-nurse, and I hope the child will do well."

"I hope so, indeed, my dear Charlotte.—Mrs. Caudle told me it was a fine healthy boy, and you know, my love, we must take what Providence sends us, and be grateful.—I should like to see the child; can I do so?"

"Yes, certainly; I believe the infant is well enough—much like other children. I dare say, if he had been our first, I might have thought him a fine boy; but really, I'm now so used to them, that I see very little difference in their appearance.—They are all much alike, only some are more noisy than others—however, you can step into the dressing-room, and look at the little fellow;—and afterwards, I will see you again." Tenderly bidding her adieu for the present, he withdrew and repaired to the apartment where his newborn son had been placed; and whom he contemplated, if not with all the rapture that attends an only child, at least with strong parental feelings.

In the course of a few days, the accouchement chamber was sufficiently freed of its restraints to allow full and general conversation; and, upon one of these occasions, he introduced the story of his adventure with the Gipsies. "I am really surprised;" said Mrs. Servinton, who had patiently listened through the whole of it, and had gathered from her husband's tone and manner that it had made some impression upon his mind. "I am really surprised, Mr. Servinton, that you could attach the least importance to such nonsense. They must have thought you exceedingly weak, to dare take such a liberty with you—they are nothing but impostors—and I must say, their allusion to our large family, is the height of impertinence, and what I beg, may not be repeated—I have no desire to be made the laughing stock of my neighbours."

"I'll tell you what 'tis, Charlotte"—replied her husband, in a good humoured tone—"you make much too serious a matter of it, to talk thus—and as for being a laughing-stock, many married persons are very improperly ridiculed when they have no children, but I never knew this the case, where Heaven was bountiful in sending them; and all I can say is, I shall have no objection to see the prediction fulfilled in this respect, as correctly as it was, with regard to Quintus's birth."

"I'm sure I hope no such thing.—It is quite high time, that we should do something towards providing for those we already have, for our estate, although considerable, will not support half a dozen idle young men, and there is nothing like looking out early. If we are to have tutors and governesses to pay and maintain, you had need endeavour to take some steps towards improving our income; for otherwise, I fear the children will come badly off."

Mrs. Servinton was a well-educated, highly-connected Lady, who had brought her husband a good fortune, and who added to these claims for favor and attention, great skill in managing her house-hold, all parts of which, were ever in capital order. She was particularly careful to procure trusty servants, to whose charge the children were confided; and the least neglect in their personal economy, such as disregard of cleanliness, or putting on a tattered garment, was certain to attract her notice and excite her displeasure; but, if such points as these were well attended to, and no unusual noise or disturbance took place in the nursery, her interference or authority was seldom exercised, every thing being conducted with the regularity of clock-work. Great prudence was one of her distinguishing features; and, whether or not she attached more weight to the Gipsy's prophecy than she chose to acknowledge, or, whether she considered that, judging by the past, nothing was more probable, than that, so far as it regarded the eighteen children, it might be fulfilled, certain it is, her worldly wisdom induced her to press warmly upon her husband's consideration, the necessity of taking some steps, towards bettering their fortune.

After some further discussion, it was agreed, that Mr. Servinton should consult his professional friend, Mr. Briefless, who was a Lawyer, residing in a neighbouring town, and well acquainted with most people's business; and that, if any thing desirable offered, it should be acted upon. Letters were also written to some of Mrs. Servinton's relations, who, being eminent Merchants and Bankers in London, might be supposed to have opportunities of promoting the desired object.

Mr. Briefless was a Gentleman, who had been bred to the bar; but after being admitted had acquired so confirmed a habit of stuttering, or rather hesitation, when attempting to speak in Public, that after several ineffectual endeavours to overcome it, he was obliged to relinquish that branch of the profession, and eventually settled as a plain country Attorney. He was an upright, honorable man, but endowed with remarkable obstinacy; which, unfortunately for his family, was particularly shewn in the management of his own affairs. Between him and Mr. Servinton, a strict intimacy had long existed; and in relying in a great measure upon his counsel, in the weighty affairs that now occupied his attention, there was the double assurance of friendship, and a mature experience in business, that he might do so with safety. This important step being thus decided, the turn it gave to the domestic affairs of the family, soon assumed such a shape, as altogether to dismiss for a time, from the minds of most of its members, all recollection of so trifling an incident as the Gipsy's prophecy.

In consequence of the measures so taken, it was not long, until Mr. Briefless introduced to Mr. Servinton a Mr. Petrie, one of the firm of a long established Bank in the town of D——, who were desirous of strengthening their resources by an increase of capital and connexion; and with whom a negotiation was accordingly commenced.

It was not altogether without a struggle, that some of the dirty acres, which had for ages descended from father to son, were now proposed to be alienated from their possessor, with the view of raising the sum that was at length agreed upon, as Mr. Servinton's contribution to the funds of the house. Although nobility had never grafted any of its scions on his family tree, there was a degree of pride felt, upon turning over the legendary tales of the achievements of heroes, long since mingled with the dust,—notwithstanding they had not risen higher than to be the esquire to his more exalted companion in arms,—or in reading the tender love stories of some of the Ladies of other days, who had been raised to the rank of Dames, partly as a tribute to their charms, and partly to their respectable lineage. Certain events also, were instilled into the ears of the children by their ever zealous nursery attendants, almost so soon as they could understand any thing, tending to aggrandize in their infant minds the importance of their parents; such as that, a Richard de Servinton was one of three only, who were able to extract the sabre from the block of wood, into which, during the reign of King John, it had been struck by a renowned Baron de Courcy; another, the creating one of the ancestors of the family a Bannerett, for his gallant conduct at Cressy, in virtue of which honor, Mr. Servinton in his right of primogeniture, wore as a dexter supporter to his ancient Coat of Arms, a Man in Armour, which was always specially pointed out on the carriage-door by the old coachman to his young Masters; another, how, during the wars preceding the Commonwealth, a sturdy member of the name, had been one of twenty-four country Gentlemen who had signed a round-robin letter of remonstrance to King Charles the First, and afterwards, raised and maintained at his sole expense, in support of the Parliamentary forces, a well equipped troop of horse. When again, the children were shewn a number of old portraits, hanging around the grand entrance hall, the men dressed in armour, or in the costume of former days from the Norman Conquest downwards, and the women's faces almost lost in hoods, or in the tremendous display of ruffs, caps, and lace, peculiar to the age, their shapes being almost entirely concealed by immense hoops, the servants were sure to magnify the fame of these personages, by a hundred imaginary tales, confounding all they had ever heard upon such subjects, with the beings who were thus represented on canvas.

So averse indeed, was Mr. Servinton to lose the fee simple of property derived from this ancient heritage, that after much deliberation, he finally resolved to raise the money that was necessary by mortgage, rather than sale, and not even the strong recommendations he received from his wife's London relatives, who, with a true mercantile spirit, urged an absolute disposal, upon the ground that property was always better for changing hands, and that his had been long enough in one family, could induce him to depart from the plan he thus determined to adopt.

All preliminaries being at length adjusted, his name was added to the firm of Petrie & Co., taking precedence of the other partners—this having been considered a distinction, equally due to him on account of his property, as of his family connexions.

Shortly afterwards it was thought advisable that he should have a town establishment, and in this manner was the first step taken towards departing from the characteristics, that had for centuries marked the name of Servinton. Nor was it long ere it proceeded to others, tending in the end entirely to deprive it of what had so long constituted its pride and stability.

Meanwhile, the general routine of the family went on much as before, only that Mr. Servinton was absent from home more than formerly, in attendance upon his new occupations; for the idea of being what is called a sleeping partner, was deservedly reprobated by his friends; and although he had not been brought up to business, his education, his fine understanding, and general attainments, were justly considered sufficient qualifications towards enabling him to acquire a full knowledge of the principles and routine, necessary for conducting a country bank.