F. What were his feelings I cannot explain,
His actions only on my mind remain.
He never married, that indeed we know,
But childless was not, as his foes could show—
Perhaps his friends—for friends, as well as foes,
Will the infirmities of man disclose. 50
When young, our Merchant, though of sober fame,
Had a rude passion that he could not tame;
And, not to dwell upon the passion’s strife,
He had a Son, who never had a wife;
The father paid just what the law required,
Nor saw the infant, nor to see desired.
That infant, thriving on the parish fare,
Without a parent’s love, consent, or care,
Became a sailor, and sustain’d his part
So like a man, it touch’d his father’s heart.— 60
He for protection gave the ready pay,
And placed the seaman in preferment’s way;
Who doubted not, with sanguine heart, to rise,
And bring home riches, gain’d from many a prize.
But Jack—for so we call’d him—Jack once more,
And never after, touch’d his native shore;
Nor was it known if he in battle fell,
Or sickening died—we sought, but none could tell.
The father sigh’d—as some report, he wept;
And then his sorrow with the Sailor slept; 70
Then age came on; he found his spirits droop,
And his kind Niece remain’d the only hope.
Premising this, our story then proceeds—
Our gentle Patty for her Cousin pleads;
And now her Uncle, to his room confined,
And kindly nursed, was soften’d and was kind.
James, whom the law had from his prison sent, }
With much contrition to his Uncle went, }
And, humbly kneeling, said, “Forgive me, I repent.” }
Reproach, of course, his humbled spirit bore; 80
He knew for pardon anger opes the door;
The man, whom we with too much warmth reprove,
Has the best chance our softening hearts to move;
And this he had—“Why, Patty, love! it seems,”
Said the old man, “there’s something good in James;
I must forgive; but you my child, are yet
My stay and prop; I cannot this forget.
Still, my dear Niece, as a reforming man,
I mean to aid your Cousin, if I can.”
Then Patty smiled; for James and she had now 90
Time for their loves, and pledged the constant vow.
James the fair way to favouring thoughts discern’d—
He learn’d the news, and told of all he learn’d;
Read all the papers in an easy style,
And knew the bits would raise his Uncle’s smile;
Then would refrain, to hear the good man say,
“You did not come as usual yesterday;
I must not take you from your duties, lad,
But of your daily visits should be glad!”
Patty was certain that their Uncle now 100
Would their affection all it ask’d allow;
She was convinced her lover now would find
The past forgotten and old Uncle kind.
“It matters not,” she added, “who receives
The larger portion; what to one he leaves
We both inherit! let us nothing hide,
Dear James, from him in whom we both confide.”
“Not for your life!” quoth James. “Let Uncle choose
Our ways for us—or we the way shall lose.
For know you, Cousin, all these miser men”—— 110
“Nay, my dear James!”—
“Our worthy Uncle, then,
And all, like Uncle, like to be obey’d
By their dependants, who must seem afraid
Of their own will.—If we to wed incline,
You’ll quickly hear him peevishly repine,
Object, dispute, and sundry reasons give,
To prove we ne’er could find the means to live;
And then, due credit for his speech to gain,
He’ll leave us poor—lest wealth should prove it vain.
Let him propose the measure, and then we 120
May for his pleasure to his plan agree.
I, when at last assenting, shall be still
But giving way to a kind Uncle’s will;
Then will he deem it just, amends to make
To one who ventures all things for his sake;
So, should you deign to take this worthless hand,
Be sure, dear Patty, ’tis at his command!”
But Patty questioned—“Is it, let me ask,
The will of God that we should wear a mask?”
This startled James: he lifted up his eyes, 130
And said with some contempt, besides surprise,
“Patty, my love! the will of God, ’tis plain,
Is that we live by what we can obtain;
Shall we a weak and foolish man offend,
And when our trial is so near our end?”
This hurt the maiden, and she said, “’Tis well!
Unask’d I will not of your purpose tell,
But will not lie.”—
“Lie! Patty, no, indeed;
Your downright lying never will succeed!
A better way our prudence may devise 140
Than such unprofitable things as lies.
Yet, a dependant, if he would not starve,
The way through life must with discretion carve,
And, though a lie he may with pride disdain,
He must not every useless truth maintain.
If one respect to these fond men would show,
Conceal the facts that give them pain to know;
While all that pleases may be placed in view,
And, if it be not, they will think it true.”
The humble Patty dropp’d a silent tear, 150
And said, “Indeed, ’tis best to be sincere.”
James answer’d not—there could be no reply
To what he would not grant nor could deny;
But from that time he in the maiden saw
What he condemn’d; yet James was kept in awe.
He felt her virtue, but was sore afraid
For the frank blunders of the virtuous maid.
Meantime he daily to his Uncle read
The news, and to his favourite subjects led:
If closely press’d, he sometimes staid to dine, 160
Eat of one dish, and drank one glass of wine;
For James was crafty grown, and felt his way
To favour, step by step, and day by day;
He talk’d of business, till the Uncle prized
The lad’s opinion, whom he once despised,
And, glad to see him thus his faults survive,
“This Boy,” quoth he, “will keep our name alive.
Women are weak, and Patty, though the best
Of her weak sex, is woman like the rest:
An idle husband will her money spend, 170
And bring my hard-earn’d savings to an end.”
Far as he dared, his Nephew this way led,
And told his tales of lasses rashly wed,
Told them as matters that “He heard, he knew
Not where,” he said—“they might be false or true:
One must confess that girls are apt to dote
On the bright scarlet of a coxcomb’s coat;
And that with ease a woman they beguile
With a fool’s flattery, or a rascal’s smile;—
But then,” he added, fearing to displease, 180
“Our Patty never saw such men as these.”
“True! but she may—some scoundrel may command
The girl’s whole store, if he can gain her hand.
Her very goodness will itself deceive,
And her weak virtue help her to believe;
Yet she is kind; and, Nephew! go, and say,
I need her now—You’ll come another day.”
In such discourses, while the maiden went
About her household, many an hour was spent,
Till James was sure that when his Uncle died, 190}
He should at least the property divide; }
Nor long had he to wait—the fact was quickly tried. }
The Uncle now, to his last bed confined,
To James and Patty his affairs resign’d;
The doctor took his final fee in hand;
The man of law received his last command;
The silent priest sat watching in his chair,
If he might wake the dying man to prayer—
When the last groan was heard; then all was still,
And James indulged his musings—on the Will. 200
This in due time was read, and Patty saw
Her own dear Cousin made the heir-by-law.
Something indeed was hers, but yet she felt
As if her Uncle had not kindly dealt;
And but that James was one whom she could trust,
She would have thought it cruel and unjust.
Ev’n as it was, it gave her some surprise,
And tears unbidden started in her eyes;
Yet she confess’d it was the same to her,
And it was likely men would men prefer. 210
Loth was the Niece to think her Uncle wrong;
And other thoughts engaged her—“Is it long
That custom bids us tarry ere we wed,
When a kind Uncle is so lately dead?
At any rate,” the maiden judged, “’tis he
That first will speak—it does not rest with me.”
James to the Will his every thought confined,
And found some parts that vex’d his sober mind.
He, getting much, to angry thoughts gave way,
For the poor pittance that he had to pay, 220
With Patty’s larger claim. Save these alone,
The weeping heir beheld the whole his own;
Yet something painful in his mind would dwell—
It was not likely, but was possible—”
No—Fortune lately was to James so kind,
He was determined not to think her blind:
She saw his merit, and would never throw
His prospects down by such malicious blow.”
Patty, meanwhile, had quite enough betray’d
Of her own mind to make her James afraid 230
Of one so simply pure: his hardening heart
Inclined to anger—he resolved to part.
Why marry Patty?—if he look’d around,
More advantageous matches might be found;
But, though he might a richer wife command,
He first must break her hold upon his hand.
She with a spinster-friend retired awhile—
“Not long,” she said—and said it with a smile.
Not so had James determined.—He essay’d
To move suspicion in the gentle maid. 240
Words not succeeding, he design’d to pass
The spinster’s window with some forward lass.
If in her heart so pure no pang was known,
At least he might affect it in his own.
There was a brother of her friend, and he,
Though poor and rude, might serve for jealousy.
If all should fail, he, though of schemes bereft,
Might leave her yet!—They fail’d, and she was left.
Poor Patty bore it with a woman’s mind,
And with an angel’s, sorrowing and resign’d. 250
Ere this in secret long she wept and pray’d,
Long tried to think her lover but delay’d
The union, once his hope, his prayer, his pride;—
She could in James as in herself confide:
Was he not bound by all that man can bind,
In love, in honour, to be just and kind?
Large was his debt, and, when their debts are large,
The ungrateful cancel what the just discharge;
Nor payment only in their pride refuse,
But first they wrong their friend, and then accuse. 260
Thus Patty finds her bosom’s claims denied,
Her love insulted, and her right defied.
She urged it not; her claim the maid withdrew, }
For maiden pride would not the wretch pursue; }
She sigh’d to find him false, herself so good and true. }
Now all his fears, at least the present, still—
He talk’d, good man! about his uncle’s will—
“All unexpected,” he declared—“surprised
Was he—and his good uncle ill-advised.
He no such luck had look’d for, he was sure, 270
Nor such deserved,” he said, with look demure;
“He did not merit such exceeding love;
But his, he meant, so help him God, to prove.”
And he has proved it! all his cares and schemes
Have proved the exceeding love James bears to James.
But to proceed—for we have yet the facts
That show how Justice looks on wicked acts;
For, though not always, she at times appears—
To wake in man her salutary fears.
James, restless grown—for no such mind can rest— 280
Would build a house, that should his wealth attest;
In fact, he saw, in many a clouded face, }
A certain token of his own disgrace, }
And wish’d to overawe the murmurs of the place. }
The finish’d building show’d the master’s wealth,
And noisy workmen drank his Honour’s health—
“His and his heirs”—and at the thoughtless word
A strange commotion in his bosom stirr’d.
“‘Heirs!’ said the idiots?”—and again that clause
In the strange Will corrected their applause. 290
Prophetic fears! for now reports arose
That spoil’d “his Honour’s” comforts and repose.
A stout young Sailor, though in battle maim’d,
Arrived in port, and his possessions claim’d.
The Will he read: he stated his demand,
And his attorney grasp’d at house and land.
The Will provided—“If my son survive,
He shall inherit;” and lo! Jack’s alive!
Yes! he was that lost lad, preserved by fate,
And now was bent on finding his estate. 300
But claim like this the angry James denied,
And to the law the sturdy heir applied.
James did what men when placed like him would do—
Avow’d his right, and fee’d his lawyer too:
The Will, indeed, provided for a son;
But was this Sailor youth the very one?
Ere Jack’s strong proofs in all their strength were shown, }
To gain a part James used a milder tone; }
But the instructed tar would reign alone. }
At last he reign’d: to James a large bequest 310
Was frankly dealt; the Seaman had the rest—
Save a like portion to the gentle Niece,
Who lived in comfort, and regain’d her peace.
In her neat room her talent she employ’d,
With more true peace than ever James enjoy’d.
The young, the aged, in her praise agreed—
Meek in her manner, bounteous in her deed;
The very children their respect avow’d:
“’Twas the good lady,” they were told, and bow’d.
The merry Seaman much the maid approv’d— 320
Nor that alone—he like a seaman loved;
Loved as a man who did not much complain;
Loved like a sailor, not a sighing swain;
Had heard of wooing maids, but knew not how—
“Lass, if you love me, prithee tell me now,”
Was his address—but this was nothing cold—
“Tell if you love me;” and she smiled and told.
He brought her presents, such as sailors buy, }
Glittering like gold, to please a maiden’s eye, }
All silk and silver, fringe and finery; 330}
These she accepted in respect to him,
And thought but little of the missing limb.
Of this he told her, for he loved to tell
A warlike tale, and judged he told it well:—
“You mark me, love! the French were two to one,
And so, you see, they were ashamed to run;
We fought an hour; and then there came the shot
That struck me here—a man must take his lot;—
A minute after, and the Frenchman struck:
One minute sooner had been better luck; 340
But, if you can a crippled cousin like,
You ne’er shall see him for a trifle strike.”
Patty, whose gentle heart was not so nice
As to reject the thought of loving twice,
Judged her new Cousin was by nature kind,
With no suspicions in his honest mind,
Such as our virtuous ladies now and then
Find strongly floating in the minds of men.
So they were married, and the lasses vow’d
That Patty’s luck would make an angel proud: 350
“Not but that time would come when she must prove
That men are men, no matter how they love!”—
And she has prov’d it; for she finds her man
As kind and true as when their loves began.
James is unhappy; not that he is poor,
But, having much, because he has no more;
Because a rival’s pleasure gives him pain;
Because his vices work’d their way in vain;
And, more than these, because he sees the smile
Of a wrong’d woman pitying man so vile. 360
He sought an office, serves in the excise, }
And every wish, but that for wealth, denies; }
Wealth is the world to him, and he is worldly wise. }
But disappointment in his face appears; }
Care and vexation, sad regret and fears }
Have fix’d on him their fangs, and done the work of years. }
Yet grows he wealthy in a strange degree,
And neighbours wonder how the fact can be.
He lives alone, contracts a sordid air,
And sees with sullen grief the cheerful pair; 370
Feels a keen pang, as he beholds the door
Where peace abides, and mutters—“I am poor!”