The Two Admirals (3 page)

"Should they have any other, it will be your own fault, Wycherly. When I
am dead, and that will happen ere many weeks, the human being will not
be living, who can take that property, after your demise, in any other
manner than by escheat, or by devise. There will then be neither heir of
entail, nor heir at law; and you may make whom you please, master of
Wychecombe, provided he be not an alien."

"Not an American, I suppose, brother; an American is an alien, of
course."

"Humph!—why, not in law, whatever he may be according to our English
notions. Harkee, brother Wycherly; I've never asked you, or wished you
to leave the estate to Tom, or his younger brothers; for one, and all,
are
filii nullorum
—as I term 'em, though my brother Record will have
it, it ought to be
filii nullius
, as well as
filius nullius
. Let
that be as it may; no bastard should lord it at Wychecombe; and rather
than the king; should get the lands, to bestow on some favourite, I
would give it to the half-blood."

"Can that be done without making a will, brother Thomas?"

"It cannot, Sir Wycherly; nor with a will, so long as an heir of entail
can be found."

"Is there no way of making Tom a
filius somebody
, so that
he
can
succeed?"

"Not under our laws. By the civil law, such a thing might have been
done, and by the Scotch law; but not under the perfection of reason."

"I wish you knew this young Virginian! The lad bears both of my names,
Wycherly Wychecombe."

"He is not a
filius Wycherly
—is he, baronet?"

"Fie upon thee, brother Thomas! Do you think I have less candour than
thyself, that I would not acknowledge my own flesh and blood. I never
saw the youngster, until within the last six months, when he was landed
from the roadstead, and brought to Wychecombe, to be cured of his
wounds; nor ever heard of him before. When they told me his name was
Wycherly Wychecombe, I could do no less than call and see him. The poor
fellow lay at death's door for a fortnight; and it was while we had
little or no hope of saving him, that I got the few family anecdotes
from him. Now, that would be good evidence in law, I believe, Thomas."

"For certain things, had the lad really died. Surviving, he must be
heard on his
voire dire
, and under oath. But what was his tale?"

"A very short one. He told me his father was a Wycherly Wychecombe, and
that his grandfather had been a Virginia planter. This was all he seemed
to know of his ancestry."

"And probably all there was of them. My Tom is not the
filius nullius
that has been among us, and this grandfather, if he has not actually
stolen the name, has got it by these doubtful means. As for the
Wycherly, it should pass for nothing. Learning that there is a line of
baronets of this name, every pretender to the family would be apt to
call a son Wycherly."

"The line will shortly be ended, brother," returned Sir Wycherly,
sighing. "I wish you might be mistaken; and, after all, Tom shouldn't
prove to be that
filius
you call him."

Mr. Baron Wychecombe, as much from
esprit de corps
as from moral
principle, was a man of strict integrity, in all things that related to
meum
and
tuum
. He was particularly rigid in his notions concerning
the transmission of real estate, and the rights of primogeniture. The
world had taken little interest in the private history of a lawyer, and
his sons having been born before his elevation to the bench, he passed
with the public for a widower, with a family of promising boys. Not one
in a hundred of his acquaintances even, suspected the fact; and nothing
would have been easier for him, than to have imposed on his brother, by
inducing him to make a will under some legal mystification or other, and
to have caused Tom Wychecombe to succeed to the property in question, by
an indisputable title. There would have been no great difficulty even,
in his son's assuming and maintaining his right to the baronetcy,
inasmuch as there would be no competitor, and the crown officers were
not particularly rigid in inquiring into the claims of those who assumed
a title that brought with it no political privileges. Still, he was far
from indulging in any such project. To him it appeared that the
Wychecombe estate ought to go with the principles that usually governed
such matters; and, although he submitted to the dictum of the common
law, as regarded the provision which excluded the half-blood from
inheriting, with the deference of an English common-law lawyer, he saw
and felt, that, failing the direct line, Wychecombe ought to revert to
the descendants of Sir Michael by his second son, for the plain reason
that they were just as much derived from the person who had acquired the
estate, as his brother Wycherly and himself. Had there been descendants
of females, even, to interfere, no such opinion would have existed; but,
as between an escheat, or a devise in favour of a
filius nillius
, or
of the descendant of a
filius nullius
, the half-blood possessed every
possible advantage. In his legal eyes, legitimacy was everything,
although he had not hesitated to be the means of bringing into the world
seven illegitimate children, that being the precise number Martha had
the credit of having borne him, though three only survived. After
reflecting a moment, therefore, he turned to the baronet, and addressed
him more seriously than he had yet done, in the present dialogue; first
taking a draught of cordial to give him strength for the occasion.

"Listen to me, brother Wycherly," said the judge, with a gravity that at
once caught the attention of the other. "You know something of the
family history, and I need do no more than allude to it. Our ancestors
were the knightly possessors of Wychecombe, centuries before King James
established the rank of baronet. When our great-grandfather, Sir
Wycherly, accepted the patent of 1611, he scarcely did himself honour;
for, by aspiring higher, he might have got a peerage. However, a baronet
he became, and for the first time since Wychecombe was Wychecombe, the
estate was entailed, to do credit to the new rank. Now, the first Sir
Wycherly had three sons, and no daughter. Each of these sons succeeded;
the two eldest as bachelors, and the youngest was our grandfather. Sir
Thomas, the fourth baronet, left an only child, Wycherly, our father.
Sir Wycherly, our father, had five sons, Wycherly his successor,
yourself, and the sixth baronet; myself; James; Charles; and Gregory.
James broke his neck at your side. The two last lost their lives in the
king's service, unmarried; and neither you, nor I, have entered into the
holy state of matrimony. I cannot survive a month, and the hopes of
perpetuating the direct line of the family, rests with yourself. This
accounts for all the descendants of Sir Wycherly, the first baronet; and
it also settles the question of heirs of entail, of whom there are none
after myself. To go back beyond the time of King James I.: Twice did the
elder lines of the Wychecombes fail, between the reign of King Richard
II. and King Henry VII., when Sir Michael succeeded. Now, in each of
these cases, the law disposed of the succession; the youngest branches
of the family, in both instances, getting the estate. It follows that
agreeably to legal decisions had at the time, when the facts must have
been known, that the Wychecombes were reduced to these younger lines.
Sir Michael had two wives. From the first
we
are derived—from the
last, the Wychecombes of Hertfordshire—since known as baronets of that
county, by the style and title of Sir Reginald Wychecombe of
Wychecombe-Regis, Herts."

"The present Sir Reginald can have no claim, being of the half-blood,"
put in Sir Wycherly, with a brevity of manner that denoted feeling. "The
half-blood is as bad as a
nullius
, as you call Tom."

"Not quite. A person of the half-blood may be as legitimate as the
king's majesty; whereas, a nullius is of
no
blood. Now, suppose for a
moment, Sir Wycherly, that you had been a son by a first wife, and I had
been a son by a second—would there have been no relationship between
us?"

"What a question, Tom, to put to your own brother!"

"But I should not be your
own
brother, my good sir; only your
half
brother; of the
half
, and not of the
whole
blood."

"What of that—what of that?—your father would have been my father—we
would have had the same name—the same family history—the same family
feelings
—poh! poh!—we should have been both Wychecombes, exactly as
we are to-day."

"Quite true, and yet I could not have been your heir, nor you mine. The
estate would escheat to the king, Hanoverian or Scotchman, before it
came to me. Indeed, to
me
it could never come."

"Thomas, you are trifling with my ignorance, and making matters worse
than they really are. Certainly, as long as you lived, you would be
my
heir!"

"Very true, as to the £20,000 in the funds, but not as to the baronetcy
and Wychecombe. So far as the two last are concerned, I am heir of
blood, and of entail, of the body of Sir Wycherly Wychecombe, the first
baronet, and the maker of the entail."

"Had there been no entail, and had I died a child, who would have
succeeded our father, supposing there had been two mothers?"

"I, as the next surviving son."

"There!—I knew it must be so!" exclaimed Sir Wycherly, in triumph; "and
all this time you have been joking with me!"

"Not so fast, brother of mine—not so fast. I should be of the
whole
blood, as respected our father, and all the Wychecombes that have gone
before him; but of the
half
-blood, as respected
you
. From our father
I might have taken, as his heir-at-law: but from
you
, never, having
been of the
half
-blood."

"I would have made a will, in that case, Thomas, and left you every
farthing," said Sir Wycherly, with feeling.

"That is just what I wish you to do with Sir Reginald Wychecombe. You
must take him; a
filius nullius
, in the person of my son Tom; a
stranger; or let the property escheat; for, we are so peculiarly placed
as not to have a known relative, by either the male or female lines; the
maternal ancestors being just as barren of heirs as the paternal. Our
good mother was the natural daughter of the third Earl of Prolific; our
grandmother was the last of her race, so far as human ken can discover;
our great-grandmother is said to have had semi-royal blood in her veins,
without the aid of the church, and beyond that it would be hopeless to
attempt tracing consanguinity on that side of the house. No, Wycherly;
it is Sir Reginald who has the best right to the land; Tom, or one of
his brothers, an utter stranger, or His Majesty, follow. Remember that
estates of £4000 a year, don't often escheat, now-a-days."

"If you'll draw up a will, brother, I'll leave it all to Tom," cried the
baronet, with sudden energy. "Nothing need be said about the
nullius
;
and when I'm gone, he'll step quietly into my place."

Nature triumphed a moment in the bosom of the father; but habit, and the
stern sense of right, soon overcame the feeling. Perhaps certain doubts,
and a knowledge of his son's real character, contributed their share
towards the reply.

"It ought not to be, Sir Wycherly," returned the judge, musing, "Tom has
no right to Wychecombe, and Sir Reginald has the best moral right
possible, though the law cuts him off. Had Sir Michael made the entail,
instead of our great-grandfather, he would have come in, as a matter of
course."

"I never liked Sir Reginald Wychecombe," said the baronet, stubbornly.

"What of that?—He will not trouble you while living, and when dead it
will be all the same. Come—come—I will draw the will myself, leaving
blanks for the name; and when it is once done, you will sign it,
cheerfully. It is the last legal act I shall ever perform, and it will
be a suitable one, death being constantly before me."

This ended the dialogue. The will was drawn according to promise; Sir
Wycherly took it to his room to read, carefully inserted the name of Tom
Wychecombe in all the blank spaces, brought it back, duly executed the
instrument in his brother's presence, and then gave the paper to his
nephew to preserve, with a strong injunction on him to keep the secret,
until the instrument should have force by his own death. Mr. Baron
Wychecombe died in six weeks, and the baronet returned to his residence,
a sincere mourner for the loss of an only brother. A more unfortunate
selection of an heir could not have been made, as Tom Wychecombe was, in
reality, the son of a barrister in the Temple; the fancied likeness to
the reputed father existing only in the imagination of his credulous
uncle.

—"How fearful
And dizzy 'tis, to cast one's eyes so low!
The crows, and choughs, that wing the midway air,
Show scarce so gross as beetles! Half-way down
Hangs one that gathers samphire! dreadful trade!"

KING LEAR.

This digression on the family of Wychecombe has led us far from the
signal-station, the head-land, and the fog, with which the tale opened.
The little dwelling connected with the station stood at a short distance
from the staff, sheltered, by the formation of the ground, from the
bleak winds of the channel, and fairly embowered in shrubs and flowers.
It was a humble cottage, that had been ornamented with more taste than
was usual in England at that day. Its whitened walls, thatched roof,
picketed garden, and trellised porch, bespoke care, and a mental
improvement in the inmates, that were scarcely to be expected in persons
so humbly employed as the keeper of the signal-staff, and his family.
All near the house, too, was in the same excellent condition; for while
the head-land itself lay in common, this portion of it was enclosed in
two or three pretty little fields, that were grazed by a single horse,
and a couple of cows. There were no hedges, however, the thorn not
growing willingly in a situation so exposed; but the fields were divided
by fences, neatly enough made of wood, that declared its own origin,
having in fact been part of the timbers and planks of a wreck. As the
whole was whitewashed, it had a rustic, and in a climate where the sun
is seldom oppressive, by no means a disagreeable appearance.