CHAPTER V
OPINION, MALE AND FEMALE
The fine young parsons of the present generation are too fond of askingus why we come to church, and assigning fifty reasons out of their ownheads, not one of which is to our credit or theirs; whereas their properbusiness is to cure the fish they have caught, instead of asking howthey caught them. Mr. Twemlow had sense enough for this, and treated thelargest congregation he had ever preached to as if they were come forthe good of their souls, and should have it, in spite of Lord Nelson.But, alas! their bodies fared not so well, and scarcely a man got hisSunday dinner according to his liking. Never a woman would stay by thefire for the sake of a ten-pound leg of mutton, and the baker put hisshutters up at half past ten against every veal pie and every loinof pork. Because in the church there would be seen this day (as theservants at the Hall told every one) the man whom no Englishman couldbehold without pride, and no Frenchman with it--the victor of the Nile,and of Copenhagen, and countless other conflicts. Knowing that he wouldbe stared at well, he was equal to the occasion, and the people who sawhim were so proud of the sight that they would talk of it now if theywere alive.
But those who were not there would exhibit more confidence thanconscience by describing every item of his raiment, which verily evenof those who beheld it none could do well, except a tailor or a woman.Enough that he shone in the light of the sun (which came through awindowful of bull's-eyes upon him, and was surprised to see stars bydaylight), but the glint of his jewels and glow of his gold diverted noeye from the calm, sad face which in the day of battle could outflashthem all. That sensitive, mild, complaisant face (humble, and evenhomely now, with scathe and scald and the lines of middle age) presenteditself as a great surprise to the many who came to gaze at it. Withits child-like simplicity and latent fire, it was rather the face of adreamer and poet than of a warrior and hero.
Mrs. Cheeseman, the wife of Mr. Cheeseman, who kept the main shop inthe village, put this conclusion into better English, when Mrs. Shanks(Harry's mother) came on Monday to buy a rasher and compare opinions.
"If I could have fetched it to my mind," she said, "that Squire Darlingwere a tarradiddle, and all his wenches liars--which some of them be,and no mistake--and if I could refuse my own eyes about gold-lace, andcrown jewels, and arms off, happier would I sleep in my bed, ma'am,every night the Lord seeth good for it. I would sooner have foundhoppers in the best ham in the shop than have gone to church so todelude myself. But there! that Cheeseman would make me do it. I didbelieve as we had somebody fit to do battle for us against Boney, and Ilaughed about all they invasion and scares. But now--why, 'a can't saybo to a goose! If 'a was to come and stand this moment where you bea-standing, and say, 'Mrs. Cheeseman, I want a fine rasher,' not a bitof gristle would I trim out, nor put it up in paper for him, as I do foryou, ma'am."
And Widow Shanks quite agreed with her.
"Never can I tell you what my feelings was, when I seed him a-standingby the monument, ma'am. But I said to myself--'why, my poor John, as isnow in heaven, poor fellow, would 'a took you up with one hand, my lord,stars and garters and crowns and all, and put you into his sow-westpocket.' And so he could have done, Mrs. Cheeseman."
But the opinion of the men was different, because they knew a bee from abull's foot.
"He may not be so very big," they said, "nor so outrageous thunderin',as the missus looked out for from what she have read. They always goesby their own opinions, and wrong a score of times out of twenty. But anyone with a fork to his leg can see the sort of stuff he is made of. He'tended his duty in the house of the Lord, and he wouldn't look afterthe women; but he kept his live eye upon every young chap as were fitfor a man-of-war's-man--Dan Tugwell especial, and young Harry Shanks.You see if he don't have both of they afore ever the war comes onagain!"
Conscious of filling the public eye, with the privilege of being uponprivate view, Lord Nelson had faced the position without flinching, anddrawn all the fire of the enemy. After that he began to make reprisals,according to his manner, taking no trouble to regard the women--whichdebarred them from thinking much of him--but settling with a steadygaze at each sea-faring man, whether he was made of good stuff or ofpie-crust. And to the credit of the place it must be said that he foundvery little of that soft material, but plenty of good stuff, slow,perhaps, and heavy, but needing only such a soul as his to rouse it.
"What a fine set of fellows you have in your village!" he said to MissDarling after dinner, as she sat at the head of her father's table,for the Admiral had long been a widower. "The finest I have seen onthe south coast anywhere. And they look as if they had been under sometraining. I suppose your father had most of them in the Fencibles, lastsummer?"
"Not one of them," Faith answered, with a sweet smile of pride. "Theyhave their own opinions, and nothing will disturb them. Nobody could getthem to believe for a moment that there was any danger of invasion. Andthey carried on all their fishing business almost as calmly as they donow. For that, of course, they may thank you, Lord Nelson; but they havenot the smallest sense of the obligation."
"I am used to that, as your father knows; but more among the noble thanthe simple. For the best thing I ever did I got no praise, or at anyrate very little. As to the Boulogne affair, Springhaven was quiteright. There was never much danger of invasion. I only wish the villainswould have tried it. Horatia, would you like to see your godfather atwork? I hope not. Young ladies should be peaceful."
"Then I am not peaceful at all," cried Dolly, who was sitting by themaimed side of her "Flapfin," as her young brother Johnny had nicknamedhim. "Why, if there was always peace, what on earth would any but verylow people find to do? There could scarcely be an admiral, or a general,or even a captain, or--well, a boy to beat the drums."
"But no drum would want to be beaten, Horatia," her elder sister Faithreplied, with the superior mind of twenty-one; "and the admirals and thegenerals would have to be--"
"Doctors, or clergymen, or something of that sort, or perhaps evenworse--nasty lawyers." Then Dolly (whose name was "Horatia" onlyin presence of her great godfather) blushed, as befitted the age ofseventeen, at her daring, and looked at her father.
"That last cut was meant for me," Frank Darling, the eldest of thefamily, explained from the opposite side of the table. "Your lordship,though so well known to us, can hardly be expected to know or rememberall the little particulars of our race. We are four, as you know; andthe elder two are peaceful, while the younger pair are warlike. And Iam to be the 'nasty lawyer,' called to the bar in the fullness oftime--which means after dining sufficiently--to the great disgust ofyour little godchild, whose desire from her babyhood has been to get meshot."
"LITTLE, indeed! What a word to use about me! You told a great story.But now you'll make it true."
"To wit--as we say at Lincoln's Inn--she has not longed always for mydeath in battle, but henceforth will do so; but I never shall affordher that gratification. I shall keep out of danger as zealously as yourlordship rushes into it."
"Franky going on, I suppose, with some of his usual nonsense," AdmiralDarling, who was rather deaf, called out from the bottom of the table."Nobody pays much attention to him, because he does not mean a word ofit. He belongs to the peace--peace--peace-at-any-price lot. But when aman wanted to rob him last winter, he knocked him down, and took him bythe throat, and very nearly killed him."
"That's the only game to play," exclaimed Lord Nelson, who had beenlooking at Frank Darling with undisguised disgust. "My young friend, youare not such a fool after all. And why should you try to be one?"
"My brother," said the sweet-tempered Faith, "never tries to be a fool,Lord Nelson; he only tries to be a poet."
This made people laugh; and Nelson, feeling that he had been rude to ayouth who could not fairly answer him, jumped from his chair with thelightness of a boy, and went round to Frank Darling, with his thinfigure leaning forward, and his gray unpowdered hair tossed about, andupon his wrinkled face that smile which none could e
ver resist, becauseit was so warm and yet so sad.
"Shake hands, my dear young friend," he cried, "though I can not offerthe right one. I was wrong to call you a fool because you don't look atthings as I do. Poets are almost as good as sailors, and a great dealbetter than soldiers. I have felt a gift that way myself, and turned outsome very tidy lines. But I believe they were mainly about myself, and Inever had time to go on with them."
Such little touches of simplicity and kindness, from a man who neverknew the fear of men, helped largely to produce that love of Nelsonwhich England felt, and will always feel.
"My lord," replied the young man, bending low--for he was half a cubithigher than the mighty captain--"it is good for the world that you haveno right arm, when you disarm it so with your left one."