Newton Forster Page 3

  Chapter III

  "Creation smiles around; on every spray The warbling birds exalt their evening lay; Blithe skipping o'er yon hill, the fleecy train Join the deep chorus of the lowing plain: The glassy ocean, hush'd, forgets to roar, But trembling, murmurs on the sandy shore." FALCONER.

  Forster was soon fast asleep after his night of exertion: his dreamswere confused and wild; but I seldom trouble people about dreams, whichare as naught. When Reason descends from her throne, and seeks atransitory respite from her labour, Fancy usurps the vacant seat, and inpretended majesty, would fain exert her sister's various powers. Theseshe enacts to the best of her ability, and with about the same successas attends a monkey when he attempts the several operations connectedwith the mystery of shaving:--and thus ends a very short and conclusivedissertation upon dreams.

  But, to use a nautical phrase, we must "heave-to" in our narrativeawhile, as it is necessary that we should enter a little more into theprevious history of Edward Forster; which we can now do withoutinterruption, as the parties we have introduced to the reader are allasleep.

  The father of Edward Forster was a clergyman, who, notwithstanding hecould reckon up some twenty or thirty first, second, and third cousinswith high-sounding titles, officiated as curate in a district not farfrom that part of the country where Forster at present was located. Hewas one of the bees of the Church, who are constantly toiling, while thedrones are eating up the honey. He preached three sermons, and readthree services, at three different stations every Sunday throughout theyear; while he christened, married, and buried a population extendingover some thousands of square acres, for the scanty stipend of onehundred per annum. Soon after he was in possession of his curacy, hemarried a young woman, who brought him beauty and modesty as her dower,and subsequently pledges of mutual love ad lib. But He that giveth,taketh away; and out of nearly a score of these interesting butexpensive presents to her husband, only three, all of the masculinegender, arrived at years of maturity. John (or Jock as he usually wascalled), who was the eldest, was despatched to London, where he studiedthe law under a relation; who, perceiving that Mrs Forster's annualpresentation _of_ the living was not followed up by any presentation_to_ the living, kindly took charge of and received him into his ownhouse.

  Jock was a hard-headed fellow, studied with great diligence, andretained what he read, although he did not read fast; but that which helost in speed he made up by perseverance, and had now, entirely by hisown exertions, risen to considerable eminence in his profession; but hehad been severed from his family in early days, and had never been ableto return to them. He heard, indeed, of the birth of sundry brothers andsisters; of their deaths; and lastly, of the demise of his parents,--theonly communication which affected him; for he loved his father andmother, and was anticipating the period when he might possess the meansof rendering them more comfortable.

  But all this had long passed away. He was now a bachelor past fifty,bearish and uncouth in his appearance, and ungracious in his deportment.Secluded in his chambers, poring over the dry technicalities of hisprofession, he had divided the moral world into two parts--honest anddishonest, lawful and unlawful. All other feelings and affections, if hehad them, were buried, and had never been raised to the surface. At thetime we speak of, he continued his laborious, yet lucrative, profession,toiling in his harness like a horse in a mill, heaping up riches,knowing not who should gather them; not from avarice, but from longhabit, which rendered his profession not only his pleasure, butessential to his very existence. Edward Forster had not seen him fornearly twenty years; the last time was when he passed through Londonupon his retirement from the service. Indeed, as they never corresponded(for there was nothing in common between them), it is a matter of doubtwhether Jock was exactly aware which of his brothers remained alive; andhad it been a subject of interest, he would, in all probability, havereferred to the former letters of his father and mother, as legaldocuments, to ascertain who was remaining of his kin.

  The next surviving son was _yclept_ (there's something very _consonant_in that word) Nicholas. The Reverend Mr Forster, who had no inheritanceto bequeath to his family except a _good name_, which, although betterthan _riches_, will not always procure for a man one penny loaf,naturally watched for any peculiar symptoms of genius in his childrenwhich might designate one of the various paths to wealth and fame bywhich it would be most easy for the individual to ascend. Now it didoccur that when Nicholas was yet in womanish attire, he showed a greatpartiality to a burning-glass, with which he contrived to do muchmischief. He would burn the dog's nose as he slept in the sun before thedoor. His mother's gown showed proofs of his genius by sundry littleround holes, which were considerably increased each time that itreturned from the wash. Nay, heretical and damnable as is the fact, hisfather's surplice was as a moth-eaten garment from the repeated andinsidious attacks of this young philosopher. The burning-glass decidedhis fate. He was bound apprentice to an optical and mathematicalinstrument maker; from which situation he was, if possible, to emergeinto the highest grade of the profession; but somehow or another, a wantof ambition or of talent did not permit him to ascend the scale, and henow kept a shop in the small seaport town of Overton, where he repaireddamaged articles of science--a watch one day, a quadrant or a compassanother; but his chief employment and his chief forte lay in telescopes;and accordingly, a large board, with "Nicholas Forster, Optician,"surmounted the small shop window, at which he was invariably to be seenat his employment. He was an eccentric person, one of those who hadnarrowly escaped being clever; but there was an obliquity in his mindwhich would not admit of lucid order and arrangement. In the small townwhere he resided, he continued to pick up a decent sustenance; for hehad no competitor, and was looked upon as a man of considerable ability.He was the only one of the three brothers who had ventured upon wedlock.But of this part of our history we shall at present say no more thanthat he had an only child, and had married his wife, to use his ownexpression, because she _suited his focus_.

  Edward Forster, the youngest, whom we have already introduced to thereader, showed strong nautical propensities; he swam nut-shells in apuddle, and sent pieces of lath with paper sails floating down the brookwhich gurgled by the parsonage. This was circumstantial evidence: he wasconvicted, and ordered off to sea, to return a Nelson. For his conductduring the time he served her, Edward Forster certainly deserved well ofhis country; and had he been enabled to continue in his profession,would in all probability have risen by his merit to its highest grades;but having served his time as midshipman, he received a desperate woundin "cutting out," and shortly after obtained his promotion to the rankof lieutenant for his gallant conduct. His wound was of that severedescription that he was obliged to quit the service, and, for a time,retire upon his half-pay. For many years he looked forward to the periodwhen he could resume his career:--but in vain; the wound broke out againand again; fresh splinters of the bone continually worked out, and hewas doomed to constant disappointment. At last it healed; but years ofsuffering had quenched the ardour of youth, and when he did apply foremployment, his services had been forgotten. He received a coolnegative, almost consonant to his wishes: and returned, without feelingmortified, to the cottage we have described, where he lived a secludedyet not unhappy life. His wants were few, and his half-pay more thanadequate to supply them. A happy contemplative indolence, arising from awell-cultivated mind, feeding rather upon its previous acquirements thanadding to its store--an equanimity of disposition, and a habit of rigidself-command--were the characteristics of Edward Forster; whom I shallnow awaken, that we may proceed with our narrative.

  "Well, I do declare, Mr Forster, you have had a famous nap," cried MrsBeazely, in a tone of voice so loud as to put an immediate end to hisslumber, as she entered his room with some hot water to assist him inthat masculine operation, the diurnal painful return of which has beenconsidered to be more than tantamount in suffering to the occasional"pleasing punishment which women bear." Although this cannot be
proveduntil ladies are endowed with beards (which Heaven forfend!), or somemodern Tiresias shall appear to decide the point, the assertion appearsto be borne out, if we reason by analogy from human life; where we findthat it is not the heavy blow of sudden misfortune tripping the ladderof our ambition and laying us prostrate, which constitutes life'sintermittent "fitful fever," but the thousand petty vexations of hourlyoccurrence.----We return to Mrs Beazely, who continued--"Why, it's nineo'clock, Mr Forster, and a nice fresh morning it is too, after lastnight's tempest. And pray what did you hear and see, sir?" continued theold woman, opening the shutters and admitting a blaze of sunshine, as ifdetermined that at all events he should now both _hear_ and _see_.

  "I'll tell you all, Mrs Beazely, when I am dressed. Let me have mybreakfast as soon as you can, for I must be off again to the cove. I didnot intend to have slept so late."

  "Why, what's in the wind now, Mr Forster?" said the old lady, borrowingone of his nautical phrases.

  "If you wish to know, Mrs Beazely, the sooner you allow me to get out ofbed, the sooner I shall be able to give you the information yourequire."

  "But what made you stay out so late, Mr Forster?" continued thehousekeeper, who seemed determined, if possible, to have a littleinformation _en attendant_, to stay her appetite until her curiositycould obtain a more substantial repast.

  "I am sorry to say, there was a vessel wrecked."

  "Oh dear! O dear! Any lives lost?"

  "All, I am afraid, except one, and even that is doubtful."

  "O Lord! O Lord! Do, pray, Mr Forster, tell me all about it."

  "As soon as I am dressed, Mrs Beazely," replied Mr Forster, making amovement indicative that he was about to _"turn out," whether or no_,and which occasioned Mrs Beazely to make a hasty retreat.

  In a few minutes Forster made his appearance in the parlour, where hefound both the kettle and the housekeeper boiling with impatience. Hecommenced eating and narrating until the respective appetites of MrsBeazely and himself were equally appeased, and then set off for theabode of Robertson, to ascertain the fate of the infant.

  How different was the scene from that of the night before! The sea wasstill in commotion; and as the bright sun shone upon its agitatedsurface, gilding the summits of the waves, although there was majestyand beauty in the appearance, there was nought to excite terror. Theatmosphere, purified by the warfare of the elements, was fresh andbracing. The short verdure which covered the promontory and hillsadjacent was of a more brilliant green, and seemed as if to bask in thesun after the cleansing it had received from the heavy rain; while thesheep (for the coast was one extended sheep-walk) studded the sides ofthe hills, their white fleeces in strong yet beautiful contrast with thedeep verdure of nature. The smooth water of the cove, in opposition tothe vexed billows of the unsheltered ocean; the murmuring of the lightwaves, running in long and gently curved lines to their repose upon theyellow sand; their surface occasionally rippled by the eddying breeze asit swept along; his own little skiff safe at her moorings, undulatingwith the swell; the sea-gulls, who but a few hours ago were screamingwith dismay as they buffeted against the fury of the gale, now skimmingon the waves, or balanced on the wing near to their inaccessibleretreats; the carolling of the smaller birds on every side of him,produced a lightness of heart and quickened pulse, to which EdwardForster had latterly been a stranger.

  He soon arrived at the cottage, where the sound of his footsteps broughtout the fisherman and his wife, the latter bearing in her arms thelittle object of his solicitude.

  "See, Mr Forster," said Jane, holding out the infant, "it's quite welland hearty, and does nothing but smile. What a lovely babe it is!"

  Forster looked at the child, who smiled, as if in gratitude; but hisattention was called away by the Newfoundland dog, who fawned upon him,and after having received his caresses, squatted down upon the sand,which he beat with his tail as he looked wistfully in Forster's face.

  Forster took the child from the arms of its new mother. "Thou hast had anarrow escape, poor thing," said he, and his countenance assumed amelancholy cast as the ideas floated in his mind. "Who knows how manymore perils may await thee? Who can say whether thou art to be restoredto the arms of thy relatives, or to be left an orphan to a sailor'scare? Whether it had not been better that the waves should haveswallowed thee in thy purity, than thou shouldest be exposed to aheartless world of sorrow and of crime? But He who willed thee to besaved knows best for us who are in darkness;" and Forster kissed itsbrow, and returned it to the arms of Jane.

  Having made a few arrangements with Robertson and his wife, in whosecare he resolved at present to leave the child, Forster bent his stepstowards the promontory, that he might ascertain if any part of thevessel remained. Stretching over the summit of the cliff, he perceivedthat several of the lower futtocks and timbers still hung together, andshowed themselves above water. Anxious to obtain some clue to heridentity, he prepared to descend by a winding and hazardous path whichhe had before surmounted. In a quarter of an hour he had gained aposition close to the wreck; but, with the exception of the shatteredremnant which was firmly wedged between the rocks, there was nothing tobe seen; not a fragment of her masts and spars, or sails, not a relic ofwhat once was life remained. The tide, which ran furiously round thepromontory, had swept them all away, or the _undertow_ of the deep waterhad buried every detached particle, to be delivered up again, "far, farat sea." All that Forster could ascertain was that the vessel wasforeign built, and of large tonnage; but who were its unfortunatetenants, or what the cargo, of which she had been despoiled by thedevouring waves, was not even to be surmised. The linen on the child wasmarked J. de F.; and this was the only clue which remained for itsidentity. For more than an hour did Forster remain fixed as a statueupon the rock, where he had taken his station with arms folded, while hecontemplated the hoarse waves dashing against the bends, or dividing asthey poured themselves between the timbers of the vessel, and he sankinto deep and melancholy thought.

  And where is the object exciting more serious reflection than a _wreck_?

  The pride and ingenuity of man humbled and overcome; the elements of theLord occupying the fabric which had set them at defiance; tossing,tumbling, and dancing, as if in mockery at their success! The structure,but a few hours past, as perfect as human intellect could devise,towering with its proud canvas over space, and bearing man to greet hisfellow-man, over the _surface of death_!--dashing the billow from herstem, as if in scorn, while she pursued her trackless way--bearingtidings of peace and security, of war and devastation--tidings of joy orgrief, affecting whole kingdoms and empires, as if they were butindividuals!

  Now, the waters delight in their revenge, and sparkle with joy, as thesun shines upon their victory. That keel, which with the sharpness of ascythe has so often mowed its course through the reluctant wave, is nowburied--buried deep in the sand, which the angry surge accumulates eachminute, as if determined that it never will be subject to its weightagain.

  How many seasons had rolled away, how many millions had returned to thedust from which they sprung, before the kernels had swelled into theforest giants levelled for that structure;--what labour had beenundergone to complete the task;--how many of the existent race foundemployment and subsistence as they slowly raised that monument of humanskill;--how often had the weary miner laid aside his tool to wipe hissweating brow, before the metals required for its completion had beenbrought from darkness;--what thousands had been employed before it wasprepared and ready for its destined use! Yon copper bolt, twisted with aforce not human, and raised above the waters, as if in evidence of theirdreadful power, may contain a history in itself.

  How many of her own structure must have been employed, bringing from thenorth, the south, the east, and the west, her masts, her spars, her"_hempen tackle_," and her canvas wings; her equipment in all itsvariety; her stores for the support of life; her magazines of _quiescentdeath_.[1] And they who so fearlessly trod her decks, conscious of theirown powers, and confident in
their own skill; they who expanded herthousands of yards of canvas to the pursuing breeze, or reduced them,like magic, at the approaching storm--where are they now? How many sighshave been lavished at their absence! how many hearths would have beengladdened by their return! Where are the hopes, the fears, the ambition,and the pride; the courage and the enterprise; the love and theyearnings after their kin; the speculations of the present, and thecalculations of the future, which occupied their minds, or werecherished in their bosoms? All--all _wrecked_!

  [Footnote 1: We presume the gentleman means gunpowder.--ED.]

  Days, weeks, and months rolled away; yet every step that could be takento find out the name of the vessel proved unavailing. Although theconjecture of Forster, that she was one of the many foreign WestIndiamen which had met with a similar fate during that tempestuouswinter, was probably correct; still no clue could be gathered by whichthe parentage of the little girl could be ascertained. The linen was,indeed, marked with initials; but this circumstance offered but a faintprospect of discovery. Either her relations, convinced of her loss, madeno inquiries, or the name of the vessel in which she had been apassenger was not known to them. The child had been weaned, and removedto the cottage, where it occupied much of the attention of the oldhousekeeper and Forster, who, despairing of its ever being reclaimed,determined to bring it up as his own.

  Mrs Beazely, the housekeeper, was a good-tempered woman, long past thegrand climacteric, and strongly attached to Forster, with whom she hadresided many years. But, like all women, whether married or single, whohave the responsibility of a household, she would have her own way; andscolded her master with as little ceremony as if she had been united tohim by matrimonial bonds.

  To this Forster quietly submitted; he had lived long enough to be awarethat people are not the happiest who are not under control, and wasphilosopher sufficient to submit to the penal code of matrimony withouttasting its enjoyments. The arrival of the infant made him more thanever feel as if he were a married man; for he had all the delights ofthe nursery in addition to his previous discipline. But, although boundby no ties, he found himself happier. He soon played with the infant,and submitted to his housekeeper with all the docility of a well-trainedmarried man.

  The Newfoundland dog, who, although (like some of his betters) he didnot change his name _for_ a fortune, did, in all probability, change it_with_ his fortune, soon answered to the deserved epithet of "Faithful,"and slept at the foot of the crib of his little mistress, who also wasto be rechristened. "She is a treasure, which has been thrown up by theocean," said Forster, kissing the lovely infant. "Let her name be_Amber_."

  But we must leave her to bud forth in her innocence and purity, while wedirect the attention of the reader to other scenes, which arecontemporary with those we have described.