It was on the great northern road from York to London, about the beginning of the month of October, and the hour of eight in the evening, that four travellers were, by a violent shower of rain, driven for shelter into a little public-house on the side of the highway, distinguished2 by a sign which was said to exhibit the figure of a black lion. The kitchen, in which they assembled, was the only room for entertainment in the house, paved with red bricks, remarkably3 clean, furnished with three or four Windsor chairs, adorned4 with shining plates of pewter, and copper5 saucepans, nicely scoured6, that even dazzled the eyes of the’ beholder7; while a cheerful fire of sea-coal blazed in the chimney. Three of the travellers, who arrived on horseback, having seen their cattle properly accommodated in the stable, agreed to pass the time, until the weather should clear up, over a bowl of rumbo, which was accordingly prepared. But the fourth, refusing to join their company, took his station at the opposite side of the chimney, and called for a pint8 of twopenny, with which he indulged himself apart. At a little distance, on his left hand, there was another group, consisting of the landlady9, a decent widow, her two daughters, the elder of whom seemed to be about the age of fifteen, and a country lad, who served both as waiter and ostler.
The social triumvirate was composed of Mr. Fillet, a country practitioner10 in surgery and midwifery, Captain Crowe, and his nephew Mr. Thomas Clarke, an attorney. Fillet was a man of some education, and a great deal of experience, shrewd, sly, and sensible. Captain Crowe had commanded a merchant ship in the Mediterranean11 trade for many years, and saved some money by dint12 of frugality13 and traffic. He was an excellent seaman14, brave, active, friendly in his way, and scrupulously15 honest; but as little acquainted with the world as a sucking child; whimsical, impatient, and so impetuous, that he could not help breaking in upon the conversation, whatever it might be, with repeated interruptions, that seemed to burst from him by involuntary impulse. When he himself attempted to speak he never finished his period; but made such a number of abrupt16 transitions, that his discourse17 seemed to be an unconnected series of unfinished sentences, the meaning of which it was not easy to decipher.
His nephew, Tom Clarke, was a young fellow, whose goodness of heart even the exercise of his profession had not been able to corrupt18. Before strangers he never owned himself an attorney without blushing, though he had no reason to blush for his own practice, for he constantly refused to engage in the cause of any client whose character was equivocal, and was never known to act with such industry as when concerned for the widow and orphan19, or any other object that sued in forma pauperis. Indeed, he was so replete20 with human kindness, that as often as an affecting story or circumstance was told in his hearing, it overflowed21 at his eyes. Being of a warm complexion22, he was very susceptible23 of passion, and somewhat libertine24 in his amours. In other respects, he piqued25 himself on understanding the practice of the courts, and in private company he took pleasure in laying down the law; but he was an indifferent orator26, and tediously circumstantial in his explanations. His stature27 was rather diminutive28; but, upon the whole, he had some title to the character of a pretty, dapper, little fellow.
The solitary29 guest had something very forbidding in his aspect, which was contracted by an habitual30 frown. His eyes were small and red, and so deep set in the sockets31, that each appeared like the unextinguished snuff of a farthing candle, gleaming through the horn of a dark lanthorn. His nostrils32 were elevated in scorn, as if his sense of smelling had been perpetually offended by some unsavoury odour; and he looked as if he wanted to shrink within himself from the impertinence of society. He wore a black periwig as straight as the pinions33 of a raven34, and this was covered with a hat flapped, and fastened to his head by a speckled handkerchief tied under his chin. He was wrapped in a greatcoat of brown frieze35, under which he seemed to conceal36 a small bundle. His name was Ferret, and his character distinguished by three peculiarities38. He was never seen to smile; he was never heard to speak in praise of any person whatsoever39; and he was never known to give a direct answer to any question that was asked; but seemed, on all occasions, to be actuated by the most perverse40 spirit of contradiction.
Captain Crowe, having remarked that it was squally weather, asked how far it was to the next market town; and understanding that the distance was not less than six miles, said he had a good mind to come to an anchor for the night, if so be as he could have a tolerable berth41 in this here harbour. Mr. Fillet, perceiving by his style that he was a seafaring gentleman, observed that their landlady was not used to lodge42 such company; and expressed some surprise that he, who had no doubt endured so many storms and hardships at sea, should think much of travelling five or six miles a-horseback by moonlight. “For my part,” said he, “I ride in all weathers, and at all hours, without minding cold, wet, wind, or darkness. My constitution is so case-hardened that I believe I could live all the year at Spitzbergen. With respect to this road, I know every foot of it so exactly, that I’ll engage to travel forty miles upon it blindfold43, without making one false step; and if you have faith enough to put yourselves under my auspices44, I will conduct you safe to an elegant inn, where you will meet with the best accommodation.” “Thank you, brother,” replied the captain, “we are much beholden to you for your courteous45 offer; but, howsomever, you must not think I mind foul46 weather more than my neighbours. I have worked hard aloft and alow in many a taut47 gale48; but this here is the case, d’ye see; we have run down a long day’s reckoning; our beasts have had a hard spell; and as for my own hap49, brother, I doubt my bottom-planks have lost some of their sheathing50, being as how I a’n’t used to that kind of scrubbing.”
The doctor, who had practised aboard a man-of-war in his youth, and was perfectly51 well acquainted with the captain’s dialect, assured him that if his bottom was damaged he would new pay it with an excellent salve, which he always carried about him to guard against such accidents on the road. But Tom Clarke, who seemed to have cast the eyes of affection upon the landlady’s eldest52 daughter, Dolly, objected to their proceeding53 farther without rest and refreshment54, as they had already travelled fifty miles since morning; and he was sure his uncle must be fatigued55 both in mind and body, from vexation, as well as from hard exercise, to which he had not been accustomed. Fillet then desisted, saying, he was sorry to find the captain had any cause of vexation; but he hoped it was not an incurable56 evil. This expression was accompanied with a look of curiosity, which Mr. Clarke was glad of an occasion to gratify; for, as we have hinted above, he was a very communicative gentleman, and the affair which now lay upon his stomach interested him nearly.
“I’ll assure you, sir,” said he, “this here gentleman, Captain Crowe, who is my mother’s own brother, has been cruelly used by some of his relations. He bears as good a character as any captain of a ship on the Royal Exchange, and has undergone a variety of hardships at sea. What d’ye think, now, of his bursting all his sinews, and making his eyes start out of his head, in pulling his ship off a rock, whereby he saved to his owners”——Here he was interrupted by the captain, who exclaimed, “Belay, Tom, belay; pr’ythee, don’t veer57 out such a deal of jaw58. Clap a stopper on thy cable and bring thyself up, my lad—what a deal of stuff thou has pumped up concerning bursting and starting, and pulling ships; Laud59 have mercy upon us!—look ye here, brother—look ye here—mind these poor crippled joints60; two fingers on the starboard, and three on the larboard hand; crooked61, d’ye see, like the knees of a bilander. I’ll tell you what, brother, you seem to be a—ship deep laden—rich cargo—current setting into the bay—hard gale—lee shore— all hands in the boat—tow round the headland—self pulling for dear blood, against the whole crew—snap go the finger-braces—crack went the eye-blocks. Bounce daylight—flash starlight—down I foundered62, dark as hell—whiz went my ears, and my head spun63 like a whirligig. That don’t signify—I’m a Yorkshire boy, as the saying is—all my life at sea, brother, by reason of an old grandmother and maiden64 aunt, a couple of old stinking—kept me these forty years out of my grandfather’s estate. Hearing as how they had taken their departure, came ashore65, hired horses, and clapped on all my canvas, steering66 to the northward67, to take possession of my—But it don’t signify talking—these two old piratical— had held a palaver68 with a lawyer—an attorney, Tom, d’ye mind me, an attorney—and by his assistance hove me out of my inheritance. That is all, brother—hove me out of five hundred pounds a year—that’s all—what signifies—but such windfalls we don’t every day pick up along shore. Fill about, brother—yes, by the L—d! those two smuggling69 harridans70, with the assistance of an attorney—an attorney, Tom—hove me out of five hundred a year.” “Yes, indeed, sir,” added Mr. Clarke, “those two malicious71 old women docked the intail, and left the estate to an alien.”
Here Mr. Ferret thought proper to intermingle in the conversation with a “Pish, what dost talk of docking the intail? Dost not know that by the statute72 Westm. 2, 13 Ed. the will and intention of the donor73 must be fulfilled, and the tenant74 in tail shall not alien after issue had, or before.” “Give me leave, sir,” replied Tom, “I presume you are a practitioner in the law. Now, you know, that in the case of a contingent75 remainder, the intail may be destroyed by levying76 a fine, and suffering a recovery, or otherwise destroying the particular estate, before the contingency77 happens. If feoffees, who possess an estate only during the life of a son, where divers78 remainders are limited over, make a feoffment in fee to him, by the feoffment, all the future remainders are destroyed. Indeed, a person in remainder may have a writ79 of intrusion, if any do intrude80 after the death of a tenant for life, and the writ ex gravi querela lies to execute a device in remainder after the death of a tenant in tail without issue.” “Spoke like a true disciple81 of Geber,” cries Ferret. “No, sir,” replied Mr. Clarke, “Counsellor Caper82 is in the conveyancing way—I was clerk to Serjeant Croker.” “Ay, now you may set up for yourself,” resumed the other; “for you can prate83 as unintelligibly84 as the best of them.”
“Perhaps,” said Tom, “I do not make myself understood; if so be as how that is the case, let us change the position, and suppose that this here case is a tail after a possibility of issue extinct. If a tenant in tail after a possibility make a feoffment of his land, he in reversion may enter for the forfeiture85. Then we must make a distinction between general tail and special tail. It is the word body that makes the intail: there must be a body in the tail, devised to heirs male or female, otherwise it is a fee-simple, because it is not limited of what body. Thus a corporation cannot be seized in tail. For example, here is a young woman—What is your name, my dear?” “Dolly,” answered the daughter, with a curtsey. “Here’s Dolly—I seize Dolly in tail—Dolly, I seize you in tail”—“Sha’t then,” cried Dolly, pouting86. “I am seized of land in fee—I settle on Dolly in tail.”
Dolly, who did not comprehend the nature of the illustration, understood him in a literal sense, and, in a whimpering tone, exclaimed, “Sha’t then, I tell thee, cursed tuoad!” Tom, however, was so transported with his subject, that he took no notice of poor Dolly’s mistake, but proceeded in his harangue87 upon the different kinds of tails, remainders, and seisins, when he was interrupted by a noise that alarmed the whole company. The rain had been succeeded by a storm of wind that howled around the house with the most savage88 impetuosity, and the heavens were overcast89 in such a manner that not one star appeared, so that all without was darkness and uproar90. This aggravated91 the horror of divers loud screams, which even the noise of the blast could not exclude from the ears of our astonished travellers. Captain Crowe called out, “Avast, avast!” Tom Clarke sat silent, staring wildly, with his mouth still open; the surgeon himself seemed startled, and Ferret’s countenance92 betrayed evident marks of confusion. The ostler moved nearer the chimney, and the good woman of the house, with her two daughters, crept closer to the company.
After some pause, the captain starting up, “These,” said he, “be signals of distress93. Some poor souls in danger of foundering—let us bear up a-head, and see if we can give them any assistance.” The landlady begged him, for Christ’s sake, not to think of going out, for it was a spirit that would lead him astray into fens94 and rivers, and certainly do him a mischief95. Crowe seemed to be staggered by this remonstrance96, which his nephew reinforced, observing, that it might be a stratagem97 of rogues98 to decoy them into the fields, that they might rob them under the cloud of night. Thus exhorted99, he resumed his seat, and Mr. Ferret began to make very severe strictures upon the folly100 and fear of those who believed and trembled at the visitation of spirits, ghosts, and goblins. He said he would engage with twelve pennyworth of phosphorus to frighten a whole parish out of their senses; then he expatiated101 on the pusillanimity102 of the nation in general, ridiculed103 the militia104, censured105 the government, and dropped some hints about a change of hands, which the captain could not, and the doctor would not, comprehend.
Tom Clarke, from the freedom of his discourse, concluded he was a ministerial spy, and communicated his opinion to his uncle in a whisper, while this misanthrope106 continued to pour forth107 his invectives with a fluency108 peculiar37 to himself. The truth is, Mr. Ferret had been a party writer, not from principle, but employment, and had felt the rod of power, in order to avoid a second exertion109 of which, he now found it convenient to skulk110 about in the country, for he had received intimation of a warrant from the secretary of state, who wanted to be better acquainted with his person. Notwithstanding the ticklish111 nature of his situation, it was become so habitual to him to think and speak in a certain manner, that even before strangers whose principles and connexions he could not possibly know, he hardly ever opened his mouth, without uttering some direct or implied sarcasm112 against the government.
He had already proceeded a considerable way in demonstrating, that the nation was bankrupt and beggared, and that those who stood at the helm were steering full into the gulf113 of inevitable114 destruction, when his lecture was suddenly suspended by a violent knocking at the door, which threatened the whole house with inevitable demolition115. Captain Crowe, believing they should be instantly boarded, unsheathed his hanger116, and stood in a posture117 of defence. Mr. Fillet armed himself with the poker118, which happened to be red hot; the ostler pulled down a rusty119 firelock, that hung by the roof, over a flitch of bacon. Tom Clarke perceiving the landlady and her children distracted with terror, conducted them, out of mere120 compassion121, below stairs into the cellar; and as for Mr. Ferret, he prudently122 withdrew into an adjoining pantry.
But as a personage of great importance in this entertaining history was forced to remain some time at the door before he could gain admittance, so must the reader wait with patience for the next chapter, in which he will see the cause of this disturbance123 explained much to his comfort and edification.
