London. Henry Collram, 1846.
E
iLUMBS.
1
THE
SOLDIER'S DAUGHTER, WIPE, AND WIDOW.
BY
THE REV. RICHARD COBBOLD,
RECTOR OF WORTHAM, AND RURAL DEAN. AUTHOR OF
THE HISTORY OF MARGARET CATCHPOLE."
IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. III.
LONDON: HENRY COLBURN, PUBLISHER,
GREAT MA.RLBOROUGH STREET. 1846.
LONDON: Printed by Schulze and Co., 13, Poland Street.
MARY ANNE WELLINGTON.
CHAPTER I.
O I, D ASSOCIATIONS.
OLD associations are not easily forgotten. Man is a reflecting creature, ever measuring present things by the past, and thinking of what he him- self was years ago. He who reaches days of mature wisdom, and looks even at the hand- writing of his childhood, perhaps his first holiday letter to a dear mother, is astonished to see the difference of character in the writing. Is this the same hand that wrote that formal announcement of the happy perio'd of Christmas, when the terror
VOL, III. B
2 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
of a blow from the heavy hand of discipline, on account of a blot, a mistake, a line left out, or a word mis-spelt, fell upon the young mind? All those terrors are gone, perchance the hands of the teacher are cold in death, and yet the warm blood runs for a while in your own, as with the freedom of thought, you transcribe the ideas of a vivid memory, or speak of things as they existed in your own day.
But you cannot restrain the tear even when you look upon the words, " dear father," or " dear mother." They are gone ! dearest friends of your life, they are gone, and all the associations of Christmas, love, and fun, and frolic, the bountiful board, the merry tale, the puzzle, the charade, the Christmas-box, the dance beneath those dear eyes, with all the excitement of pleasing one fair one, whom you felt you would love with all your heart. The tear will fall to think these joys are gone, and that they who shared them with you are stern in death.
Old associations are not easily forgotten. You
THE SOLDIER S WIFE. 3
remember them, reader, with intense vividness of reminiscence ; and if your heart be good, you will respond to the reflection, that, though lost to sight, they are still dear to memory. Cold is that man's Christian sympathy, who can call to mind a mother's tender care in the hour of sickness or misfortune, or a father's protecting hand when youth was in its too thoughtless career, and not perceive how the grace of God softens the agonies of human regrets by the sweet hope of meeting in a happier world those friends who have set us a good example in this, who did all they could by commending us to God, teaching us to depend upon Him, and themselves promoting by every means in their power, our present and future com- fort. Blessed associations ! even in our deepest regrets ye fill our souls with gratitude to that great God who is the giver of all good and the friend of the orphan and the widow !
If, reader, you can remember your boyhood, and have felt the joy of the approaching holidays, recall to your memory the old associations of
B 2
4 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
parent, brother, sister, friend, and companion — perhaps, too, the remembrance of some faithful old domestic of your father's, who was your nurse, may come across your mind — and you will enter into the spirit of a letter written by a brave soldier, who had lost his mother, but loved her memory ; and had a most grateful feeling of respect for a father, whom he had never but once seen, but who had given him that which was better than mere life or money — a good education. A son in search of his father, would be a new work for the press ; but this is not a fiction, and the words of him who was the actor in the scene are more descriptive than any which a mere inventor could pen.
" Ten Bells, Norwich,
" August 10, 1815.
" My dear wife,
" I would not write to you before the object of my journey should be completed, and now that it is so, I will endeavour to describe to you some of the sensations I have experienced, in visiting again
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 5
the scenes of my childhood after all the horrors of the late war.
" I find twenty years have made a great many changes in the human countenance, as well as in the face of things, which used to look so very great to my young eye. Whether it be the grand scenes of the Pyrenees, with their immense heights and extensive prospects, that opened my eyes to the magnitude of things, certain it is that I found those very scenes which used to appear so great, and which I expected to view in the same light, appear so very small, as to create in me the utmost astonishment. The market-place at Nor- wich, which I paraded in the days of my recruit's dignity, though exactly the same size, seemed but a small square, and even the Castle Hill, to reach
the summit of which, used to seem to me an exploit,
i was no more to my eye than a small knoll.
" The dear old landlady, whose kindness I shall never forget, is not living, but her daughter still lives in the same house. I have been to Hingharn. Yes, I walked along that very road which I took
6 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
to Norwich, and as I left the city I thought of our good old friend, Dan, and his word of command ; 1 Halt ! Right about face ! Heads up !' I cannot describe the sensations which crept over my mind. I was returning a tall, grown-up man, with a martial eye and steady step, along a road, which, the last time I trod it, my young steps were without any certain end before them. How different did I now feel ! I belonged to my King and country. I had been in no light campaign, I had gained experience in many a hard-fought battle, and was well in strength of body and mind to visit again my native land. You may be assured, my dear, that I did most devoutly give thanks to God for his mercies. My prayers to Him made me walk with more manly vigour, and strengthened me in the purpose I had in view. Norfolk looked a flat country to me, after my wanderings in the moun- tains ; still, every face I met told me of a people to whom I felt attached.
"As I approached Hingham, I almost went down on my knees with thankfulness. My heart bounded with
THE SOLDIER S WIFE.
such eagerness, as I passed the green lane of Kim- berley Park, and thought of Lord Wodehouse's game- keeper ! People stared at the red coat and wondered who I was. I arrived at my uncle's cottage. Ay, at that gate from which I, eighteen years ago, departed. None actually knew me ! My aunt thought it must be me ; and, I am happy to tell you I was most kindly received by them ! My uncle's asperity was all gone, and I was made. as much of as you could wish me to have been. But how shall I describe my sensations upon visiting the old free- school, and renewing my former acquaintance with friends whom I never expected to see again ! All I can say is, that it has proved a most unexpected reward, to which I had no right to lay claim. I could gladly have fished again in the old Mere ; but I had other things to think of. I was there on Sunday, and joined again in worshipping God in that place to Which my heart often reverted when in a foreign land. The same service, the spot sacred to the first breathings of my young spirit, concurred to concentrate my thoughts upon
8 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
God and His goodness ; and, if I were an object of curiosity to many, I knew it not, for thoughts too deep to be diverted were present to my mind.
" A new window is finishing in the east end of the church, with stained glass of great value, with the most prominent events of our Saviour's mission. But I was most deeply engaged in the service of our church, and truly thankful was I for deliverance from sudden death, when so often exposed to the chance of it. Never did the simplicity of our form of worship strike me more forcibly than at this moment, when the words of my mouth accompanied the meditations of my heart, with a perfect under- standing of every word I had used in my youth, which I now felt to be the support of my man- hood.
" These things all tended to strengthen my mind for the great object I had in view in coming into Norfolk, and on Monday morning, I started for my important mission. I felt as I journeyed on, that my position was a strange one, and what the issue might be I could not conceive: but, as I knew
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 9
that the worst could be but a rebuke, I did not hesitate. Yet I own, my dear wife, that I felt very strangely, as, after a walk of twenty miles, I entered
the Inn, and sat down to consider the steps I
ought to take. N is a long, straggling village,
but my father's house appeared one of the best in the place, in which there are several good ones. When I looked at the house, I could not help think- ing of the crown he gave me, when a boy, and of the kindness of his manner towards my aunt, whom I then took to be my mother. Still, I felt much more determined than I had ever done. Even the siege of Badajos, terrible as it was in every respect, did not shake my nerves or make me feel so quick a breathing and palpitation at my heart, as the sight of my father's house. I asked myself a thousand
times, ' Will he care about me ? What am I to him ?
» He knows me not ! He has forgotten me ; and
perhaps he will drive me from his door/ All my former pride seemed gone, and I was irresistibly drawn as it were, from quite a different motive, to approach his mansion. At one time I thought of
B 3
10 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
going in person ; then again of making a confidant of some one in the place ; and, with all these revol- ving ideas, I returned again to the inn, and sat
myself down in the bar.
" I asked the landlord several questions about the gentry of the neighbourhood— about the employ- ment of the people, the charities of the place, and came by degrees to speak personally of the inhabi- tants, and at last to the very point I wished to come
to. ' What kind of man is Squire / ' He is
a good-hearted, charitable gentleman, very rich and very generous.' I did not fail to ask, indifferently, many other questions. ' Can you give me pen and paper, landlord ? I want to write a note to Squire
about a young fellow whom he was once very
kind to, and who was in my regiment during the late war. Have you any one who can take a note up to his house ?' — ' 0 yes ! we will soon accommodate you. You had better come into the parlour.3
"I went accordingly, into the green painted room where a table, with a large black waiter, and a ma- hogany tea-caddy upon a green cloth stood on one
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 11
side of the room, a portrait of the Duke of Welling- ton on the other ; portraits of Lord Wodehouse and Mr. Coke, and a list of farmers forming a Saturday's Club, hung over the chimney place. A small table was brought to the window, pens, ink, and paper were placed thereupon, and the worthy landlord left me to myself, and I dare say thought me a long while concocting my epistle ; I believe I began three different sheets before I could reconcile myself to the manner in which I ought to address my father. I believe that it was the consciousness that I was using the last sheet of paper in the house that made me get on as well as I did. I will transcribe my words as nearly as I can.
"'August 7th, 1815. " < Sir,
" ' A young man, who has been in all the Peninsular battles, is returned to his native country, simply for the purpose of making himself known to his father. He trusts that the testimonials herein enclosed, from his commanding officer and others, to whom he has been personally known for many
12 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
years, will prove satisfactory to any parent. He is
the son of S B , who married the man
whose name the writer bears ; but if all that an attached mother has declared be true, he will not meet with an unkind reception at the hands of one, who was, as far as regarded pecuniary matters, a friend to her. The writer of this letter comes not in distress, to ask alms, or to seek the protection of his father. He has been, and is, a British soldier, and does not at this time want anything. Had he done so, he was urged by his parent to make appli- cation to his father, and was assured that his wishes would be attended to. He comes with a desire to perform a duty, which at one time he could never have done, because a refractory and roving spirit prompted his natural pride to scorn the entreaties of a kind parent and the advice of his friends ! Maturity of judgment, dangers, trials, and above all things the experience of Christian feelings in his heart, have re-called to his mind those more tender emotions, which a soldier may be proud to cherish. He remembers the first moment he discovered his
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 13
true father, and that father's generosity, when with the kindness of a gentleman, and never to be for- gotten liberality, he gave the boy who held his horse upon the Norwich road, at Hingham, his first
crown. That boy now writes this at the inn,
and with such feelings of respect as conquer all his past violent passions, and make him appeal to the natural heart of an English gentleman. If he appeal not in vain, that father will, before he leaves
N , give him the opportunity of acknowledging
in person, that he is
" ' His affectionate and dutiful son,
THOMAS HEWITT.
"'To Esq.'"
" I was a long time before I finished this letter, though you know I»am not generally at a loss for words. The evening began to close in before I sent it up to the mansion. I had to apologise to the land- lord, for my stupidity in not being able to write without destroying his paper ; but, as he brought me four sheets, and I was quite ready to pay for them,
14 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
of course I was welcome. I requested permission to remain where I was, and to have a Norfolk paper, my pipe, and my porter, brewed, as he said, in London, from1 malt made in that district.
" I could not read — I could not eat. I did both, however, mechanically ; my eye wandered about the paper, but my thoughts were upon the letter ; my mouth ate the bread, but my stomach was not very grateful for it. An hour passed away, and I kept thinking that my application would be fruitless : another and another, and my heart began to sink. I walked about the room — I thought my letter over. Was there anything improper in it ? Could he be offended ? I began to doubt whether I ought to have written exactly as I did : but my conscience told me there was nothing passionate in it, and that I had done right. I might have thought that the gentleman was at dinner, and could not perhaps leave his family at such a time. I found such to be the case, for, soon after this, I heard a rap at the front door, and a voice called out :
" < Landlord, is there a soldier here ?' ' Yes, Sir/
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 15
f Where is he V ' In the parlour, Sir. Will you walk in, Sir?3 and in walked a tall, handsome, portly squire, with a blue coat, bright buttons, hessian boots, and a cane with a gold knob on it, in his hand.
" ' Leave us a few minutes, landlord, I want to speak to this young man;' and he surveyed me with a glance, seemingly of decided approba- tion.
" ' Is your name Thomas Hewitt ?' ' It is Sir.' ' Then you may shake hands with me, young man ; I like the spirit of your letter, and I like your appearance.'
That moment rewarded me. It was worth all my labour. It was sweet to me, indeed ; and, as I shook hands with my father, I can truly say, my dear wife, I felt as v I would my son should feel towards myself.
" ' Now, if I were alone in the world, young man/ said he, ' you should share my house and home with me. Why did you not make application to me before ? I would have bought you a commission. I would
16 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
have brought you forward in your profession, and have made a man of you. Why did you not write to me r
" Because I thought it better to be independent ; and something seemed to say that you would be ashamed of me/
" So, you were ashamed of me ; and I have been so of myself. Well, young man, pray God forgive us both ! What now, in common justice, can I do to serve you ?"
" ' Oh, Sir ! I want nothing at the present time ; but I have a wife and one child in Ireland, and may probably have a family more numerous than I can exactly support : and, should such be the case, may I appeal to your generosity for assistance ? I am by no means deficient at the present time, and I never get into debt. I am blest with a talent for music, which brings me in more than' my pay, and I have a good wife, who is not afraid of work, and who has accompanied me in all my battles. She was born at Gibraltar, and her name was Wellington. Her father was an artilleryman, and was killed at Cadiz. Her mother is, I believe, still living/
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 17
" ' Your wife had a good name, and I believe she has changed it for a good youiig man ; and, if I can do anything to serve you, I will* How long have you been in the army ?'
" ' Eighteen years, Sir/
" ' Would you like to leave it ?'
" ' I do not think either my wife or I should, as
^
long as we can remain as happy as we are, and as healthy in it. But, perhaps, the army may be reduced, and as I am only second sergeant, I might come under the reduction ; if so, I should then, perhaps, require a friend ; or my time of service may expire — or the regiment may be disbanded.'
" ' Well ! well ! perhaps as you have been so long in it, you had better complete your term of service, and you will be entitled to a pension, and anything I may then do for you, may be an additional com- fort. What leave of absence have you ?'
" ' I have a fortnight from the 1st of August, and one week is now gone; as I march on foot, I must soon be journeying again to Liverpool/
18 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
" < Well, young man, I am glad I have seen you, and I shall be happy to hear more of you and of your adventures. In the meantime, as an earnest of my good intentions towards you, there are fifty guineas. I insist upon your taking them, and now, God bless you !'
"I will confess, Mary, that I could not help crying, though I had so often been in scenes of agony, without a tear. Oh, how different are things which touch the heart, to those which touch only the flesh. The gentleman — for he was one, though not a fine unfeeling one — and more rough and open in his manners, than if he had lived all the days of his life in a drawing-room — shook me heartily by the hand, and I know his heart went with his hand, for a tear stole down his cheek, though his voice did not falter nor his face change colour. Yet he sighed too,, as he said, more like a Norfolk sailor than an easy gentleman: 'You are a brave young fellow, and if I had been on board a man-of-war at Trafalgar, or had been a
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 19
Picton or a Ponsonby at Waterloo, I should like to have commanded just such a band of Britons as a hundred like yourself. God bless you, my boy!'
" And so, Mary, my father left me, and I had as happy a night of reflection as a poor son who felt nothing but the claims of nature and an honest heart could feel. I had done right, my heart told me so ; and not all the world could persuade me otherwise, since I compromised no honour, but did
my duty as I ought. Next morning I left N ,
and returned again to Norwich. I know you will think it no robbery from yourself, when I devote a small sum to the daughter of the good landlady who was so kind to my mother. I feel glad that, of my own accord, I have fulfilled her wishes in visiting
my father. His present generosity will preclude any
v application to him, unless you, my dear, or my family
may be so situated as to be beyond the pale of my own exertions to provide for you. I shall start for Liverpool to-morrow, and, hoping this letter may
20 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
reach you, and find you and our dear babe in health, believe me,
" Your affectionate husband,
"THOMAS H. HEWITT. "To
" Mrs. Hewitt, " Sergeant's Wife. " 48th Band, Limerick or elsewhere, Ireland."
This was the first time the H was ever intro- duced by himself Between the plain names of Thomas and Hewitt, though he was christened by the full name to which he was entitled. The writer of these pages would gladly have recorded many things here mentioned, in a different manner; but truth demands that in the history which these pages profess to give to the world, when a fact is known to be so prominent, it cannot be safely rejected. It would be infinitely pleasanter to have made this brave fellow the legal as well as natural offspring of truly wedded parents, and the author regrets that he was not so. He wishes every man
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 21
Was so. He looks not upon marriage as a sacra- ment, but as an ordinance of God; the first — the oldest — the most innocent, and therefore the most sacred bond of unity ever ordained for man's comfort, and not to be violated with impunity, though a guilty world and light views of morality and religion may induce fashionable levity to slight its sacred institution, and to make it a mere con- ventional compact, the dissolution or violation of which is without deep sin.
Sorrow, trouble, and anxiety, every man will experience in his domestic course. Happy he whose conscience bears him out in his walk with God, through all his trials ; and if he has a partner, sharing them with him, who by her gentleness of disposition, amiable conduct, and Christian piety, sustains his integrity* she adds to his honour and glory, as every honest man does to his head — his God.
What is a walk from Norwich to Liverpool, to a soldier who has walked from Lisbon to Toulouse? It is but a pleasant and a smooth journey, when it is contrasted with tlje opposition of a hostile
22 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
force pervading mountain districts and ready to cut off every traveller who may venture upon the way. Resolution and exertion, if accompanied with patience and perseverance, will perform prodi- gies. But this was no great feat to be performed by a British soldier, who was returning to an attached wife and a young child, after liaving been absent upon one of the most interesting occasions of his life.
He had seen and had been well received by his father, and enjoyed a tranquillity of heart, to which, comparatively speaking, he had been a stranger. He had now found a set-off to the loss of his old companion, Dan Long; and his heart rejoiced to find a void filled up with a friendship upon which he had certainly more natural claims. He was unconscious of having done any wrong. He might want a friend one day, and iie was now assured that he had met with one to whom any appeal might be made without fear. He arrived at Liver- pool and sailed for Ireland, duly arrived at the barracks, and found many of his old companions
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 23
glad to receive him ; neither last nor least his affectionate wife, who had shared the toils of battle, and now shared his days of peace.
" I am rejoiced, my dear," she said, " to find that your reception has been so pleasant to you. I received your letter but three days since, and I thought you would not be long behind it. Our child is thriving, and will, I hope, with God's blessing, live to be a man."
" I wish it may be so, indeed ! I have been more happy in my visit to Norfolk than I expected. Generosity and heartiness, without any unkind reserve, seemed to be the characteristic traits of my father's behaviour. He did not receive me with any affectation, but with the kindness of a man who felt that his intentions were upright with regard to myself ; anfl, I can truly say, I felt respect and love for him. He has promised to befriend me at any future time, and I hope God will preserve him for many years. I desire not to share his mansion with him, as long as I can do my duty to my God, my sovereign, and your-
24 MAEY ANNE WELLINGTON,
self, in the situation I am placed in. It would be no particular delight to me to be elevated above my comrades, but it is a particular pleasure to me to know that in a rainy day I may hope to find shelter."
" I love your spirit, Thomas, I always did ; and I have no fears that the same God who has hitherto shaded our heads through the days of battle will desert us in the day of peace."
Little did they think how soon they should have to depart from Ireland, for the furthermost quarter of the globe. But the next chapter will shefr that she who had to follow her good husband upon land, had not to rest long before she had to undertake the longest voyage which the soldiers of Great Britain have to perform.
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 25
CHAPTER II.
THE BROAD SEA.
WHO can leave Ireland without regret, let him be soldier or civilian, king or peasant, prince or prime minister, lord or servant ! There is such an inherent vivacity in the people, such natural talent, such open generosity and kind-hearted philan- thropy, the man must be without any warmth of heart himself who can forget a people whom he has visited as a stranger, or been recommended to, either for private or public virtue.
It is said of the Irish, that they make their way better among foreigners than the English. It may
VOL. in. c
26 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
be that they throw off any reserve of character better, and invite that hospitality from others which they are so ready themselves to shew to strangers. It is certain that they have more tact, more address, more smartness of speech, and are far less timid and nervous in their use of the tongue, than their more retired and thoughtful brethren of England or Scotland.
There is in the Irish character, moreover, a kind of interesting self-devotion to any cause they advocate, which is very taking, from the zealous warmth with which they press forward in the work. This warmth is something like that of our continental neigh- bours, the French, overpowering, quite over- whelming for the time, and almost stupifies the astonished mind of the less rapturous Englishman, and in the Irish this warmth is more lasting and enduring than in our Gallic friends. You may take the professions of an Irishman, as sincere for the time they last ; but you must take the professions of a Frenchman for the moment, with the utmost polite- ness, and let them pass over your head and heart
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 27
with as much indifference as you would take his proffered pinch of snuff. Of course there are exceptions, and the peasantry of France every nation upon earth knows to be the most genuinely kind and most tenderly hospitable in the world; but the educated, the initiated, the enlightened, the polite, all know the world and its conventional forms too well, to admit for a moment any simpli- city of heart or real sincerity of purpose in their professions.
John Bull must be gulled, indeed — as he is for a time, till experience opens his eyes, and abhor- rence of insincerity takes place — if he long fails in forming a true estimate of French manners. God forbid that we should make an exchange of honesty for politeness*, however pleasing. Better, better far is it for us to undergo the sar- castic accusation of being seen to blush when we fail in politeness, than to be seen adepts in fashion- able levity, without a blush for a falsehood or a crime.
Though Ireland is hospitable, and her sons and
c 2
28 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
daughters especially engaging; yet, as wisdom is superior to all external qualifications, long may Englishmen cultivate its lessons, and form their characters upon its strength.
But the narrative must not be forgotten in these disquisitions upon other things. Our heroine and her husband met with many attentions in Ireland. They were respected by those who knew their history, and she, being of Irish parents, met with many a kind reception among her countrywomen. Independently of these, she was respected on account of her long, indefatigable services in the Peninsular War. Her husband's musical abilities brought him into notice, and he enjoyed his stay in Ireland equally with his wife. But the 48th were ordered to New South Wales, to relieve the 47th, then in barracks at Sydney.
" What say you, Mary, to the change ? Shall I or shall I not apply for my discharge ? What do you think of a voyage to our antipodes ?"
" I am ready, my dear, as I said when I first married, to go wherever your duty and your honour
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 29
call you. You have taken the oath of service for any part of his Majesty's dominions, and in any foreign parts as well, so that if you intend to fulfil your father's advice, you have no alternative but to obtain an exchange or go yourself; and, if you go, then I go with you."
"We have had but short rest after all our dangers, and now we have to go to the end of the world, upon convict duty, which is but little better, dear wife, than convict slavery."
" Say not so, my dear husband ! If the respect of man is worth having, wide is the difference between a soldier and a convict. Shame, or a sense of degradation and crime, do not accompany any man in the performance of an honourable duty. Nor does a man entertain any idea of wrong when, in the conscientious fulfilment of the duties of that station God has placed him in, he acts with firm- ness, as unto God, and not alone as unto man. It will be my duty to lighten the hours of your leisure, and I do not suppose that you will be
30 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
wholly employed in keeping gangs of convicts at their work."
"I confess I am disappointed, wife, at being ordered so far from home. I suppose it is be- cause we were not at Waterloo. I could not help that ; but I ought to be ashamed of myself to need an admonition upon duty from you. I must write and tell my father we are going, and the long voyage will be a good opportunity for me to fulfil his request, by giving him a succinct account of my past life. You must pardon my momentary grumbling ; but, as old Dan used to say, ' Let an Englishman have his grumble out, and he will always do his duty/ So will I, dear wife, do mine."
" I never doubted it, my dear, and God forbid that I should fail to support you in it ! We have both been wonderfully preserved in many severe trials, and we must trust to Him who guides the winds and waves with Almighty hand to shew us the same mercy unto the end. We are both pretty good sailors,
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 31
Hewitt, and may improve our time on board a ship, and be as happy as we could be in an Irish cabin. "
" Enough, my dear, I am content ! Not a word ought I to utter against your good doctrine ; so I shall set about providing for the voyage, what comforts I can procure for you and our boy."
Who would be without a good wife if he could help it ? She will do you good all the days of your life, support your head, and enable you to walk among your companions with honour. Wide is the difference between a good and a bad wife — as wide as honour and dishonour — as health and disease — as light and darkness. " A virtuous woman is a crown to her husband, but she that maketh him ashamed is as rottenness in his bones." A stronger epithet the wisest man could not have used. The man who is sensible enough to value the good qualities of mind, temper, and disposition in his partner, above the sordid considerations of gold, will ever honour and cherish her, as he would his own flesh.
32 MART ANNE WELLINGTON,
A soldier, yes, a common soldier, and only in the band of his regiment, may have as high a sense of honour and love, as the greatest lord of the land. He may not be compelled to go the same lengths of murder, manslaughter, or as it has been some- times called, justifiable homicide, as the officer of his regiment conceives himself called upon to go, to prove that his honour is not to be doubted. It would be a fine sight to see common soldiers fol- lowing their officers' examples, and meeting each other in the deadly duel, to prove their honour ! The great General would soon put a stop to such proceedings, by executing martial law upon the fiery young fools. Surely then there ought to be a law sufficiently strong, to control men of the highest rank and highest sense of honour from such madness. The man who wilfully insults another is himself a coward, let his size, rank or wealth be what it may, and ought to be consigned to con- tempt, and not to the notoriety of a bold exploit of mad passion, a direct violation of the laws of God. But honour was a mutual trust between our
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 33
heroine and her husband. They had perfect confi- dence in each other through their long career of danger, and afforded a lesson of mutual respect, well worthy of any man's approbation.
The regiment was ordered on board. Colonel James- Erskine, the commanding officer, was a man well adapted to keep all his junior officers and soldiers in good heart, through a long and tedious voyage. Remarkable for an intelligent mind and for literary pursuits, he encouraged in all beneath him the cultivation of letters, which tended greatly to lighten the burden of confinement on board. His society was always to be desired, and was always enjoyed by those who felt his superior attainments. At the same time he was ^ disciplinarian, and his orders for muster and for deck duty, were as strictly observed on board the Matilda as were the orders of the Captain of the vessel to weigh anchor, unfurl the sails, and keep a good look out ahead, whilst he steered through the Irish Sea from Dublin Bay into St. George's Channel, and away
c 3
34 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
into the broad Atlantic, for Sydney, the port of his destination.
Two hundred privates on board, besides the band and officers, women and children, and the crew of the ship, formed a great society assembled in a small compass. It requires good generalship, as well as good management, to keep so great a number of men in good order, good health, and good humour during a six months' voyage; and those officers deserve the highest respect, who take the opportu- nity of such times to improve the minds of those placed under their care.
The first few days at sea, in a crowded ship, as every one knows, are sufficiently stirring not to require much interference. Sea sickness and its consequences are felt by most ; but, when this is got over, the stomach and brains begin to get accus- tomed to the rolling motion of the vessel, and to preserve their equilibrium. When, day after day, no sight is to be seen but sky, and cloud, and water ; when the vessel is out of the reach even of sea- birds, and the dull monotony of the seaman's call,
THE SOLDIER S WIFE, 35
either of the lead or hour, makes the time move heavily ; then is it that the minds and hands of the men require the superintending vigilance of an intelligent officer, to give a stimulus to employ- ment.
Colonel Erskine was peculiarly happy in varying the different duties which he required, and in such a judicious manner as to make the crew take an interest in the proceeding.
The hour of muster was early, the exercise regular and not annoying. He encouraged scholastic attain- ments, and rewarded our heroine's hushand for his exertions in teaching reading, writing, and arithme- tic. He had a certain hour for the practice of the band and took great interest in its advancement, and, when the weather permitted it, a general pro- menade on deck.
He encouraged every species of mental as well as industrial employment, so that the Matilda was a floating scholastic institution, in which soldiers learned the use of their heads and hands, in acquir- ing knowledge, which proved of the most essential service to them in after life.
36 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
The soldiers* wives and families were equally attended to, and harmony was preserved on board from the day they left the Channel, to the day they entered Sydney Cove. Not that they encountered no storms ; but the internal regulations of the ship were so well observed, that but one soldier, one child, and one female, died on board.
Hewitt formed a party, which he called his students, and took great pleasure in reading aloud, at a certain time, morning and evening, a portion of the Sacred Scriptures : in five months he had read the Bible through, and, in seeking to instruct others, gained himself the greatest and best insight into those concerns which fortified his mind in many an after year.
It was here that he wrote the history of himself and his wife, and copied it and sent it to his father after his arrival at Sydney. It is strange that it never reached him ; nor did the various letters which he wrote ever reach that parent's hands ; he remained in ignorance of his son's move- ments, and, though he heard that his regiment had sailed for Australia, yet he knew not whether the
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 37
young soldier, who certainly pleased him, was alive or dead. He might feel slighted also, and was hurt at the seeming neglect of the young man.
Our heroine had a serious accident when the vessel was off Rio^ Janeiro, at which place they touched upon the passage, to take in supplies.
She was on deck, teaching her young son to walk, when, just as she was in the act of giving the child a little water, the vessel gave a sudden lurch, which threw her suddenly down upon her left side, and bruised her so much as to create alarm for her life. A premature confinement with her fourth son was the consequence, and it went so hard with the mother, that her life was at one time despaired of.
Then might be witnessed what a real friend is true affection ; for it does not desert you in sickness, but takes the warmest interest in your comfort when you are unable to help yourself. The soldier's wife was made aware of her dangerous situation, and knew from the surgeon's manner, that he considered there was but little hope.
38 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
"I know, my dear," she said to her husband, " that my case is desperate, and I feel very diffe- rently from what I ever before did ; and I can see, both by the surgeon's manner and by the interest of my female companions, that they consider my days numbered. I cannot help thinking of you and our children, and how bereft you will be without my help. It is on this account I pray for a longer continuance of life, if it seem good to the Great Giver of all good, to grant my request. But if not, Hewitt, then you and I must part ; but I trust to meet you again, when all your campaigns are over. I know you will love your children, and do the best you can for them. I feel very weak."
" Do not despair, my love ! The surgeon has not told me of any immediate danger. I will both pray with you and read to you, and comfort you as well as I am able. I do still trust that it will please God to let you live some years longer, to be a comfort to me and your chidren. I do not think he has spared you from the horrors of war, to end your days upon the broad sea. Cheer up ! cheer up !
THE SOLDIER S WIFE. 39
I will tell you exactly what I think, and what I learn from our surgeon. My hopes are very lively still, and I do not despair of better health and brighter days."
" If it be not wrong to hope for such things, I would gladly do so, for I have no objection to be your helpmate for years longer, if God will permit it. But I trust that he will fit me for either life or death, Thomas, that I may live or die to Him, as he sees best for me."
" That is the frame and temper of mind, my dear, that we should all cherish. In battle we know we run great risk of being cut off. An old man is seldom seen in the army in time of war. If his sinews begin to fail him, toe must give way to young ones, and retire from the fatigues of his march. I shall never forget our dear old friend Dan's death ! It was a lesson to us all \"
" Indeed it was, and I wish I may end my days as comfortably as that old man did. He was faithful to God, his King, and his country ; and, if every soldier in England were like him, few armies could
40 MAKY ANNE WELLINGTON,
cope with them. You must read to me, Hewitt, for I take great pleasure in my bible, and find that it introduces me to my last and fast friend, when all others fail me."
The good soldier did not fail to do his duty, in cherishing his partner in sickness as well as in health. He read to her many an hour, and conversed with her many more upon what he read, and then gave proof of an enlightened mind, which is God's best gift to those who will cultivate it. It pleased God to spare her to him this time ; and, though she ever after felt the effects of this fall, yet she lived many, many years, the respected soldier's wife — though she is now the unfortunate soldier's widow.
She revived, though the child sickened. It was baptised by the Captain of the vessel, as there was no Chaplain on board, though two hundred and forty souls were in that vessel. The Naval and Military Bible Society had provided the Word of God for the soldiers and sailors, and the Captain was a good Christian. He strictly observed the
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 41
sabbath day on board his ship, and read the Service of the Church to all, and also an excellent sermon afterwards ; and in all these duties Colonel Erskine took his share.
The voyage was prosperous, though tedious. Our heroine lost her babe, which had been named " Paul/' because the vessel was then at St. Paul's Island, and saw it committed to the great deep, the Captain himself reading the Funeral Service. The broad sea thus became a source of remembrance to a mother, who often thinks upon her child, and the vast waters which roll over its little coffin. Faith, however, points to the day when the sea shall yield up its dead, and the faithful mother and child shall live in eternal love. *
The broad sea was not without numerous inci- dents, external as regarded the ocean, and internal as regarded those who were confined in the ship. To an active mind, every day conveys an instructive lesson. Everything is full of wonder, and man scarcely finds his life long enough to survey even the natural wonders of the deep.
The fishes of the sea became objects of interest.
42 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
The flying fish, pursued by dolphins, and actually springing, in their aerial bounds, upon the deck of the vessel ; the barnacles, which clave to the sides of the ship, and seemed to breed so fast as to impede her progress. But of all things of interest, to a soldier as well as a sailor, the capture of a shark will not be forgotten.
In passing down the coast of South America, several of these monsters of the deep were seen sporting along the ocean, and now and then shewing their single fins above the wave, as well as their long arched tails, whenever a piece of pork or offal was thrown overboard. Of the astonishing rapacity of this creature, every nautical writer has given some account. The wonder is, how the shoals of them which are known to be so numerous around some of the islands, both on the African and American shores, are supplied. They appear always hungry, and will actually fight for anything which is thrown overboard. Woe to the unfortunate boatmen who get capsized within their sight ; few can hope to escape.
In one of the morning parades, the soldiers of
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 43
the 48th were indulged with a sight not uncommon to any vessel upon such a voyage — the taking of a shark, and a monster he was.
A strong line, with a few yards of chain and a hook attached to it, was thrown out to a formidable fellow who had been seen for days following in the wake of the ship. All eyes were directed to the line, baited with a huge piece of salt pork ; and which, as the ship dashed through the sea, had no time to sink, but was dragged along the surface of the waves. Now and then, it might be seen glittering on the azure curve, and presently springing with a jerk through the crown of the spray, whilst two hundred men stood with anxiety looking for the shark to*- seize the bait. A man called out from aloft. " The biter is coming !" He could see from his height more directly down upon the surface of the ocean. At last, the tail of the brute was seen dashing over the top of a wave.
" Does he look playful, Jem ?" said an old sailor to his messmate aloft ; " or is he lazy, and rather fine in the nose this morning ?"
44 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
" I can scarcely tell you yet. He is too far off the bait. I think he smells it. He comes on dashing at a good pace."
" Does he ride fleet, Jem, on the waters, or do you think he dives, and comes up again from below ?"
" He does not go down at all. I can almost trace his back as he comes along, and, to my mind, he's as long as our bowsprit, and as big as the great boat. He is quite on the top of the sea."
"Then we shall have a nibble presently; look sharp to your tackle, my boys \"
"Here he comes, Tom," said the fellow aloft, and every soldier stood on tiptoe.
"Draw the line in, Sam, draw the line in, we may as well all see the fun as have a bite at a distance. Don't stand near the line, comrades, or you may chance to lose a leg before you are aware of it."
The line was now drawn close up towards the lee side of the vessel, and plain enough the huge
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 45
monster was to be seen, watching the pork with a ravenous eye, and playing round it, as much as to say, "What is it?"
" Will he take the bait, Captain ?" said a young officer on the quarter deck.
" I can hardly say whether he will or not. He does not like to leave it, and he eyes it as if he would have it. I have seen these creatures play around a living victim a long while before they will dash at him. He seems cautious ; but if the men suddenly let go the line, and the bait sinks, we are almost sure he means to have it when it rises again. Let go the line, boys !"
Down sunk the bait, up went the huge tail of the monster, and down«>he followed the pork, leaving a long streak of foam where his broad fin lashed the wave as he went down.
" Up with it again, boys ! Now look out ! Tab* care of your fingers ! Look sharp, sir, or he is such a little fellow, you will scarcely see him when he comes up."
"Up rose the bait, and came skimming along
46 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
the hollow of the wave, visible to every eyef In another moment, the monster rose, turned upon his side and came with a dash alongside the vessel, shewing a row of teeth more frightful than the sides of Gibraltar Rock. In an instant, he seized the bait, and bore it along the vessel's course till the line was out, and a sudden twang against the gunwale, told that the monster had met with a check. Too severe a one was it, however, for him to escape. That very jerk sent the fangs of the hook through his jaw, and he was now forced to go with the ship whether he would or not.
A lively and interesting scene ensued. The monster might be seen springing out of the water, dashing at the line, and striving to break it with his great teeth. His rage was fearful, he lashed the ocean into a foam. He would at one time rush «ft the vessel as if he meant to fight it, at another dash from it, as if he would break the line. He dived under the ship, he came boiling up again, staining the ocean with his blood, until his mighty efforts began to fail from exhaustion.
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 47
" Clear the deck \" said the Captain, " haul up, boys ! haul up ! stand clear of his tail. He will kill you with a blow, should he hit you. Now, Sam, get a noose from the block, and give him a run."
A noose was made, thrown over the monster's tail, and the huge creature was swung on deck, to the no small gratification of the landsmen.
" What a fearful creature \" exclaimed our heroine, " what rows of teeth under his nose ! I wonder how he can seize his prey. Leonard must sketch this scene !"
"He seizes his prey by turning on his side, as you saw him take the bait."
It was some time before the monster was dis- patched, and any one could come near him to examine him. As each did so, he thought how terrible a death it would be, to fall into the jaws of the devouring shark.
The vessel arrived in safety at Sydney, after a six months' voyage, yet considering their delays,
48 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
the numbers on board, and the crowded state of the ship, all were in wonderfully good health ; and the whole regiment on board, and the crew also, returned thanks to God for their preservation upon the broad sea.
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 49
CHAPTER III.
NEW SOUTH WALES.
NEW South Wales is one of the most rapidly progressing countries on the face of the earth ; progressing in the present day, in spite of the most untoward circumstances under which any civilized country ever advanced. Its native savages are not extinct; its new barbarians, if the outcasts of a great nation may be so termed, are still fearfully numerous; and yet its society is progressing in every virtue of cultivated life, and in the best foun- dation of all improvement, true religion. Societies of the first culture in England, are sending out
VOL. III. 3)
50 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
branches to carry virtue into the interior of that country, where a family, without any of those terrors which numbers bring along with them in this overpeopled land, can be nurtured with the prospect, that it is so much the better the more numerous it is.
Agricultural labourers, of the most honest and healthy class, are hastening to a land where exer- tion shall reward industry with a sufficient supply. The sinews of science, the sinews of strength, the sinews of intelligence, are all powerfully working for the future prosperity of Australia ; and, by the blessing of God, she will shine with British splen- dour, when old England has advanced to her utmost limit, and shall be spoken of among nations, as once the greatest of all Islands, the glory of the Western World. God grant that the day may be far distant when she shall decay ! It must be as He pleases, and if he should give us the blow we deserve, we should not be long before we fell.
Australia will, if she encourages the Faith once delivered to the Saints, and cherishes the Truth in
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 51
her Church, rise to be a great country indeed ! Her principal port, Sydney, is one of the finest harbours in the world, and if we only consider that half a century has carried through that port all the civilization of old countries, which had centuries to make themselves perfect in it, and that now in some things she excels the oldest nations in her cultivated productions, what may not be expected of her fifty years hence, should the world exist so long? God grant that his church may flourish as it has done here, to his own honour and glory, and the salvation of thousands !
The town of Sydney was deeply indebted to Governor Macquarrie's organ of order, for the numerous improvements which he was making at the time when the 48th landed. Till then, the town was built any how, no order, no plan, no wisdom in any of the arrangements for the future health or appearance of Sydney ! Men bought allotments before his time, and built upon them, each man according to his fancy, without any regard to uniformity, or any idea of regularity.
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52 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
In his day, a very different method was pursued. All who built upon government allotments were under engagement to build upon a certain plan, which tended greatly to the beauty, as well as the convenience of the place. To Governor Macquarrie, the inhabitants of the metropolis of Australia are at this day indebted for the introduction of the greatest improvements which that country and city have experienced.
Our heroine, with her husband, at first occupied lodgings in Sydney, as well as many others of the regiment, until the departure of the 47th, whom they came to relieve.
It is a joyous time when a regiment is about to leave a distant land, for the shores of old England. The long voyage is considered nothing. Vivid imaginations of things at home, as he left them, are before the mind of the soldier, and bring his parental hearth, his brothers and sisters, before his eyes, and all the endearments of native and genuine affection.
However stern may have been the duties which
THE SOLDIEB/S WIFE. 53
men may have had to perform, there is generally a great softening of the disposition when all those services are over, and they are about to return to European society. Nor do they fail to feel for those who may have to succeed them in their career of duty.
Joy spread itself through the ranks of the 47th, as they learned the day fixed for their departure. The band of that regiment invited that of the 48th to a sumptuous dinner, and our heroine had an opportunity of becoming acquainted with many of those who were now about to return to England. It was to one of the band of the 47th, that the narrative of the adventures of herself and her husband was committed, to be forwarded to Squire H — of N— in the county of Norfolk. A promise had been exacted that the man himself should deliver it; but, whether it did reach Norfolk or not, it certainly never reached the hands of the writer's father, for whom it was intended. Whether that friend lost the narrative — whether he himself was lost upon the
54 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
voyage — or whether any individual now living possesses the soldier's history, it never was, and probably never will be discovered. One thing is certain, namely, that it never reached a parent, who once felt warmly the affections of nature, and was strangely disappointed at the seeming .disrespect of his son. It is a pity, when good feelings of nature have taken possession of the heart of man, that any thing should embitter those feelings. All men are sorely grieved when their natural affections meet with disappointment. The warmer they are, at a certain period of life, when the judgment is not to be swayed by fancy, the more violent is the blow which causes the check upon the heart-strings. In nothing is a man more sensitive than in the seeming dis- respect of his offspring, especially when he has promised to himself the pleasure of their ad- vancing integrity.
Woe to the child who slights an affectionate •parent? The earth contains many pits, but the deepest and the darkest is the fittest place for
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 55
an ungrateful or unnatural child. No works, no sacrifices, no superstitious selfishness, will ever soothe the conscience of one who wilfully brings down his parent's grey hairs with sorrow to the grave. Oh ! better is it for the happiness of a son or daughter, to suffer any privation, and to be humble, than to provoke the wrath or curse of an indulgent parent. Peace can only be en- joyed by those who seek the internal regulation of the affections of the heart, and, the nearer they accord with God's laws, the more permanent will be the tranquillity of the mind, which is better riches than gold.
Our heroine's husband cherished in his heart, the warmest feelings of respect for his natural parent. His esteem for him was grounded upon the knowledge, that, before he knew him, he had given him a good education, and after he had known him, he had won his heart by the generous acknowledgment of his former wrong, and his endeavour to serve him. He would have considered it, therefore, a most unkind part for him
56 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
to act, to neglect that father's injunctions. He wrote to him often, told him all his family concerns, and made him, as he thought, acquainted with all the particulars of his history. He took great delight in describing his long walks into the bush, and in informing his parent of all that was worthy of notice in the colony and the country ; and many were the descriptive anecdotes which he wrote, both of the colonists, the convicts, and the native inhabi- tants. Strange is it, that all these letters should be
lost, that none should have reached Squire H .
Had Hewitt been aware of this, he could not have felt surprise that no notice should have been taken of any of them.
" Your father may not chose to write to you," said our heroine, " from an idea that you may not be long in one place, and consequently that his letters might be lost ; and may it not be, that your letters have never reached him ?"
" I cannot believe, my dear, that all have failed, and it makes my heart very heavy at times, that I get no answer from one who appeared to me all
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 57
generosity. I cannot tell what may have caused his silence. I shall continue to write, however, from time to time, that I may not have to accuse myself of disrespect. I am much more comfortable at Sydney than I ever expected to be."
" I told you I thought you would have no con- victs to superintend and keep to work. I am sure Governor Macquarrie is very kind and condescending to us; his lady, too, is a warm friend to the soldier's wife."
Thomas Hewitt was, in truth, made much of. He was so diligent in his application to the study and practice of his clarionet, that it obtained him frequent introductions into the most polite circles in Sydney, where music was much cherished by the Governor's lady, who was very partial to this elegant accomplishment. Frequently was he sent for, to accompany that lady in the best concerto music which could be procured, and in her fashiona- ble and crowded drawing-room this brave man was treated with the respect due to his talents and his demeanour. Received, as at Gibraltar, into the best
D3
58 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
society, he never threw off the manners of a truly humble and quiet man ; was never puffed up with applause, nor even carried beyond the balance of propriety, by any of the attentions he received. He sought not to shine, but to give pleasure to others, by producing those harmonious sounds in which he so greatly delighted. Nor did he forget to appro- priate all he received to the welfare of his wife and children.
He had children before he left Sydney. In 1817, his wife had a still-born child, and was very kindly treated by many ladies in Sydney, to whom her his- tory was well known. In 1818, was born Absalom, the sixth son of our heroine. He grew up a fine, active boy, in the barracks at Sydney ; and, with his elder brother Edward, attracted the notice of officers and men of the 48th. In the year 1821, Thomas was born ; so that our heroine had to contend with all the troubles of an increasing family ; still, she •wanted nothing. 'Cares she had ; but she was active, her husband fortunate ; all things went on well with her, during the whole period of her stay at Sydney.
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 59
Edward and Absalom Hewitt, used to be the admiration of all who knew them in barracks. Their mother was famed for her management of her boys, in keeping them decent, orderly, and regular, and in training their young minds to obedience. Their father became their tutor, and brought them up in the ways of early piety and religion. Captain Alman, who lived close to them, and had a large family, used particularly to note their very respecta- ble appearance ; and was astonished to find that their mother, with characteristic industry and cle- verness, was accustomed to make all their clothes for them. He encouraged them as playmates for his own children, and always found them quick, intelligent lads, and no disgrace to the gallant 48th.
Mr. Rogers, a young officer of the same regiment, was so pleased with the little Absalom, that he made him a present of the first suit of clothes which he ever had made by a tailor ; and the circumstance is held in grateful remembrance, both by mother and child, to this day.
Colonel Bell was a particular friend to Hewitt and
60 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
his wife ; and, when the regiment was reduced, in the year 1822, he would have had him remain in Aus- tralia, instead of coming home to England to be discharged. The news of the reduction of the army in that year, and the consequent discharge of many veterans, caused no little anxiety among soldiers who had lived so long together, both in war and in peace.
"What do you intend to do with yourself Hewitt ?" said the Colonel to him, after it was known that he was upon the Reduction List.
"I cannot say, Colonel. My inclinations are strangely wandering homewards. My father, Colo- nel, is a wealthy man, in Norfolk. I ran away from school and enlisted in Norwich, and did not see him, or hear of him, or from him, or he of me, until I had gone all through the Spanish campaigns, and returned to England. He received me very kindly after this, and promised to be my fast friend in need. He has no other child living, and I think I ought not to neglect my own claims upon him." •
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 61
" Most assuredly not, Hewitt. But how is it, that, after you once returned a young prodigal, he permitted you to leave him again for this far country ?"
" He thought it best that I should complete my time in the army, and then appeal to him after I had my discharge."
" I think it very strange, my brave fellow, that having but one son, and being reconciled to him, he should permit you to remain a common soldier, and to come so far away from him. I do not understand exactly, what to advise under such circumstances."
Hewitt here explained to him his exact position, and the Colonel very warmly urged him to remain where he then was.
" This is a fine country ; many of your old com- rades are going to remain. You have an established reputation here, and I think you may find yourself disappointed at home. But what says your wife ? Women are good judges in the time of domestic doubts."
"I have not mentioned the matter to her yet, Colonel, and I know not exactly her mind; but I think it will incline to return."
" It should be after years of prosperity. I think you have a good chance of doing well here, and a very doubtful one at home ; but I can only wish you well, Hewitt, and give you my advice to remain in Australia."
The same advice was given him by Sergeant- Major Hines, who greatly respected both him and his wife, and would gladly have had them settle in a country congenial to industry, steadiness, and tem- perance ; congenial — alas ! too much so — to those very opposite vices, idleness, immorality, and drunkenness : but these never thrive in any coun- try ; the former alone ensure prosperity.
" What say you, my dear wife, to going back to England again ? We have our choice. We have more ; we have a premium to remain here. Shall I accept it or not ?"
" What says your own heart, Hewitt ? I am
THE SOLDIER S WIFE. O3
content to remain here, if you are ; but, should you refuse the present chance of returning, free of all expense, would you not regret the opportunity when it is lost ?"
" Colonel Bell recommends my stay. My good friend Hines says, stay. The Governor's advice is stay ; and, though I do earnestly wish to see my father again, and am sure in my own mind that he would receive me kindly and fulfil his promise, yet all judgment seems to say, remain where you are. If I could be sure of my exact position in my father" love, I would not hesitate a moment ; but I confess I wish to return/'
" Then why should you not ? I fear you will only fret yourself about the opportunity, after you have lost it. I know your mind well, Hewitt, and I can most sincerely bless you in my heart. You have always had a longing to see your father again. I am sure you do not want to be idle, or dependent ; but you feel that hard work in the bush, clearing new ground, and toiling all day upon the land
64 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
would not be so suited to your disposition, as the chance of providing for us by your talents; and you think home is as good a field for you, with the chance of what your father may provide, as this distant land. Is it not so ?"
" You have exactly spoken it, my dear. Such is my opinion, and I pray God I may be right."
" Then I would never doubt it, my dear. I would at once accept ship, and return. I am ready to go back again with you. God is able to provide for us, as well at home as in this land. I see no reason why we should not ask his blessing there as well as here. All the earth is His, and so are the inhabi- tants of it. Australia will be dear to our memories, and perchance, some of our children may come to this land. God bless the good Governor, and his lady, and all our friends here ! I love old England, and shall never sigh to come back to this country, though I own I love so many things in it. Cheer up then, my husband, and as our dear old friend Dan used to say, ' Look the wolf well in the face,
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 65
daughter, as you once did, and you will get over any difficulty/"
" Up then, and let us take leave of our friends ; for the ship is in the bay, our old comrades are getting their traps on board ; and so, my dear, we will be over the waters to merry England. Adieu ! adieu ! adieu ! Farewell to kind friends, warm hearts, kindred souls, and good companions. Fare- well to friends high in power, and ornaments to the land they dwell in. Farewell to the rich saloon, where admiring ears have listened to the dulcet sounds of the soft piano, and the swelling notes of the accompaniment. Farewell, Sydney barracks, where soldiers have enjoyed much attention, and have been respected by all classes. Farewell, thou land of future, promise, though of much future sorrow, where the uphill work of religion must have much laborious toil before, ' the crooked paths can be made straight, and the rough places plain ;J where the desert, in time, shall blossom as the rose, and the sunny wilderness become a fruitful country. Farewell !'*
66 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
Such were the words which the brave soldier wrote in his memorandum-book, as the vessel weighed anchor, and left a land, where for six years he had rested in respect. His wife and children were on board. The young ones wept for the land where they had spent their infant years, and would gladly have returned. But the sails were unfurled, and spread to the breeze. The old ship — for she was an old voyager — creaked under her way, and the veterans in her were like herself, weather-beaten hulks of many a hard-fought fight. Time for them the reader will say, to cast anchor, or to come to their moorings.
Our heroine had her youngest child in arms. She had an affectionate husband, and she put her trust in God. She prayed for a safe voyage ; and, not- withstanding all the dangers that attended a leaky vessel, notwithstanding that, in a tremendous storm in doubling the Cape, one of the beams of the old ship started, and the water, as she described it, came gushing in like flashes of lightning; and though the horrors of shipwreck once stared them in the
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 67
face, yet, by the blessing of God, she arrived at the mouth of the Thames with her husband and family in good health, and was landed late in the evening at Gravesend.
MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
CHAPTER IV.
ENGLAND.
OUR heroine landed at Gravesend, and Sergeant Jones, who had the care of the party, obtained billets for them; but, as they landed late, and the houses were closed, the landlords refused to admit the soldiers ; so that, upon landing in their own country after so many years' absence, their first reception was inhospitable in the extreme.
" Is this merry England we talked of, Hewitt ?" said our heroine, " and is this the way they treat us ? "We were much better used in France. Our enemies would not let us stand shivering in the cold, all night/'
THE SOLDIER'S WIPE. 69
" I am disappointed, my dear, and this is indeed but a very unfavourable omen for the future. "We are certainly unreasonably late in our application for admission; but coming as we do from the extremity of this habitable globe, it is cruel of these citizens not to admit us. We cannot, however, compel them, and we have no alternative but to wait patiently for the morning. I will try what I can do to get the women and children admitted. I care not for myself, but I do not like to see you freezing in the streets all night."
It was not without much difficulty, that the women and children obtained quarters, and the men had positively to bivouac in the streets, until the hour of compulsory admission, at which they could not be refused.
But orders were given for the regiment to move on to Chatham; so that no opportunity was afforded to make the amende honorable to these brave fellows. It did not give our heroine a very favourable opinion of Englishmen. She knew that the Boors of Africa would rise at midnight to
70 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
welcome a stranger — that the Arabs of the Desert would not deny the claims of hospitality, and that in every other country under the sun, the door would open at any hour to the brave defenders of the land. But here in England, the veterans of the Peninsula were denied a night' s lodging.
Oh, beast not, England, of hospitality ! It is all very well with introductions for. the sake of pride or courtesy ; but in what part of this island does the stranger or the soldier find an open door and a hearty welcome, though he may have spent his best years in fighting for the security of those very men, who deny him a shelter in his necessity ? How many may read these pages by a cheerful fire, with all the comforts and endearments of a happy home. They may shudder at the accusation of want of hospitality; but that shudder will not prove this assertion false, that in the year 1822, the voyagers from Sydney who landed at Gravesend had to spend their first night in the open streets. It is to be feared that an angel, were he to come unawares upon many of our snug habitations,
THE SOLDIER S WIFE. 71
would find but a sorry welcome, and be directed to the Union House for entertainment. He might find an open door in some charitable cottage, but fhe mansion would not admit him to its kitchen.
After having spent some days at Chatham, a severe misfortune overtook our heroine, in the visitation of one of her children with brain fever. Night after night did she wait upon the delirious child. Three surgeons attended him, and ten days and nights the mother changed not her clothes, but watched the poor sufferer with anxious eyes, till it pleased God to remove him from this world to a better. Her eldest son, Edward, at nine years old, a fine intelligent fellow, born in the 48th, thus died and was buried, at Chatham, to the great grief of his parents. This was the precursor to days of sorrow and sickness, in which our heroine had to fortify her own mind, and her husband his also, with the best consolations of religion. Soon after this occurrence they were ordered to Chelsea, where, after twenty-seven years of active service, Thomas Hewitt was discharged, a pensioner of
72 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
Is. l^d. per day, and had to commence a new kind of life for a veteran soldier.
"You had better remain in Chelsea, my dear, whilst I journey into Norfolk, and see my father again. Surely, surely he must have had my letters, and I feel a strange presentiment that his heart has been hardened against me; but I will seek him, and at once discover where the fault may be. Your own health is not good ; our late bereavement has unstrung your nerves, and time and rest are required to set you up again."
" I should wish to go with you, but perhaps you will be best alone upon such an occasion. My young child requires care, and after a month or so, we shall be able to join you. I pray God to prosper you. We feel very strangely out of the army, after so long a habit of discipline in it."
" It will never do us any harm, if we can only find some active employment at home. The wakeful habits of a soldier, his cleanly appearance, and readiness to do his duty, will be no drawback to any future exertion. We have had but little
THE SOLDIER S WIFE. 76
comfort since we returned to England. Still, my dear, we have very many blessings to be thankful for. I do not despair, and will soon let you know the result of my journey. England has yet room for us, and we must not be discouraged at our first misfortunes."
The young man, for he was still but thirty-nine years of age, was not long before he again set foot in his native county of Norfolk; and he lost no time in proceeding to the very spot in which he first met his father.
The same inn, the same landlord, and the same table, found the son engaged, though in plain clothes, in writing a letter to his parent, just as that parent passed the window. In a moment he was in the street, and accosted him with breathless haste and much anxiety.
" Sir," cried he, "I amreturned to England again !" and he paused to take breath, whilst the gentleman viewed him with the utmost astonishment, saying : " And pray, Sir, who are you ?"
What were the feelings of the son at that
VOL. III. E
74 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
moment, no mortal can describe. He could not even attempt to put them upon paper. That father, who but six years before had acknowledged him, not to know him now! A strange revulsion came over his frame. He was wounded more severely by that blow, than by the enemy's sword. He was smitten to the heart, as if an arrow of ice, with suddenly piercing point, had carried a chilling blow to the centre of life. And is it for this, thought he, that I have come over from Australia ! to meet with a cold repulse — not to be known — to be denied by my own father ! 0 nature, nature, how art thou changed! The question was again put: "Who are you, young man ?" and convinced him that it was no intentional denial of a knowledge of his person.
" I am Thomas Hewitt ; your son, Sir !" It was now the gentleman's turn to be surprised. He was agitated. He turned pale, and with much trepidation desired him to go back into the house. He followed him into the room.
"I really did not know you, young man;
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 75
your sudden salutation, in a costume so different from that in which I last saw you, prevented my recognising you ; and yet I ought not to have for- gotten the voice. I have been very ill since I last saw you, and I had no idea you were alive. Why did you not write to me ? Where have you been ? You promised to let me have a full account of your life ; but not a word have I heard of you."
" Oh, Sir, how grieved I am ! I wrote to you from Ireland — I wrote to tell you of my regiment's departure for Australia ; and, on board the Matilda, I employed my time in writing the history of my own and my wife's adventures. I sent the same by one of the band of the 47th, who promised to deliver it at your door/'
" Strange, strange ! I never saw it ! I never heard of it ! You say you wrote many times. Did you direct your letters properly ?"
" I did, Sir, according to your own direction. I wrote at least twenty times from Australia, and can have the testimony of my Colonel, who countersigned my direction for me."
E 2
76 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
" I must make inquiry into this. Where is your regiment now ?"
" Part of it, Sir, is returned to England to be discharged. I am one of the number, and being 2nd Sergeant of the band, I was within the list of reduction."
" How long have you been in the regiment ?"
" Twenty-seven years in active service, Sir."
" Then you ought to have been promoted." " Alas ! Sir, promotion is but a slow march, in the band. We are too often overlooked in many things by the higher powers, and too often thought only fit for parade duty ; but there are many who have found us most serviceable to them when they were unable to assist themselves. I have been in many battles, side by side with the bravest, and have not flinched from the duties of a soldier."
" What pension have you ?"
" One shilling and a penny-halfpenny per day."
" What are your views now ?"
" You promised to befriend me, Sir, if I should be discharged. I had the option of remaining in
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 77
Australia, or of returning with part of my regiment to England. I thought, Sir, that I might never see you again, if I neglected the opportunity of returning at the expense of Government, which then offered itself to me, and I accepted it, though, as you will see by these testimonials, my prospects were very fair in that country."
The young man here presented a packet of letters to his parent, bearing the highest tes- timony to the respectability of his character, and proficiency in his art, and to his general military as well as private deportment. Could a parent receive this genuine appeal to his heart without a warm response ? Could the cold forms of dignity, which he had himself violated in early life, now stand between the convictions of nature and wisdom ? They might in some very fashionable minds, whose cultivation will not admit the claims of nature, and which consider etiquette as possessing more vitality and propriety than truth itself ; but it was not so with this Norfolk squire. A blunt species of gentleman, carrying in his
78 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
person sufficient appearance of external pride, without any pretensions to the extreme of fashion, he had yet a warm heart, alive to real natural emotions, and in honest affection he again extended his hand to the welcome soldier, and accompanied it with an honest Englishman's ex- pressions.
"And you shall be welcome to England, my boy ! You shall not come back all this way for nothing. I will assist you. Where is your wife?"
" She is now at Chelsea, Sir. I have lately buried my eldest son. I have two still with their mother; Absalom, my elder, and Thomas, my younger."
" And what are your views ? I know not what to do with you here. I have nothing to do myself. I cannot comprehend how your letters were lost. When did you write last ?"
" Six days ago, Sir, from Chatham."
" I must inquire into this. It is a mystery to me. What do you propose to do with yourself?
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 79
A young man like you, should have some constant and profitable occupation."
" My own thoughts inclined to settling at Norwich, and teaching music."
" And no bad employment in these days : Norwich is becoming a musical city. Norfolk farmers do not reap very abundant profits in these times, though many who have been careful in the war, have risen to purchase the very estates they hired, and are become great gentlemen. Come to Norwich, and if anything should occur in which I can promote your interest and prosperity, I will do so. I had given you up. I felt hurt at your negligence, and I cannot now account for the strange failure of your letters. Rest here until the morning and I will see you again, and so, good bye for the present."
Father and son parted better friends than might have been expected, to the very great joy of the latter. Nor was their meeting less cordial on the morrow.
" I have- thought of you all night, young man,"
80 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
said Mr. H — "and I have hinted at my suspicions of your letters being purposely kept out of my sight. To avoid this, for the future, when you write to me, follow this direction, and I shall receive them. I have brought you again the sum I gave you before, and when you have arrived with your family, and have settled yourselves in Norwich, communicate again with me, and I will arrange something per- manent for your support."
They took a mutually respectful leave of each other, m which there was more true affection than in many between those who are more constantly in each other's sight. "With a heart much relieved from the pressure of doubt, Hewitt departed from Hingham and staid a few days with his uncle and aunt. He wrote to his wife, giving her a description of his
unexpected success at N , and requesting her
to come to Norwich, and he would meet her at the Ten Bells. In the meantime, he himself went to that city, to see what he could do in his profession of music. He obtained an introduction to Colonel Harvey, who took much notice of him, and intro-
THE SOLDIER S WIFE.
81
duced him to other gentlemen. The Rev. Mr. Elvin was very kind to him, and so was Mr. Pat- tison, the great brewer.
His wife arrived in the city of Norwich in the latter part of the year 1822, and found that her husband had secured lodgings for her and her family in Ber Street.
These were some of the happiest days she had experienced for some time. Her husband, by degrees, obtained an established reputation in the city. His father, with whom he had another inter- view soon after the arrival of his family, definitively promised him .£30 per annum, assuring him that he should receive it regularly at the quarter, and that as long as he, Thomas Hewitt, should live, it should be paid punctually. Independently of this allow- ance, he made him many presents, which enabled him to bring up his family decently.
" So England, my dear, is, after all, a comfortable country ;" said our heroine to her husband. " Our young ones thrive in it, and we have no reason to complain."
82 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
" I have none, my dear, none whatever, thanks to God's goodness, both in giving me support and in giving me you to help me through life. I like having my time fully occupied. I have this day been offered a situation which, I think, I shall accept, as it will not interfere with my pupils, or with music. It is the situation of watchman, under Mr. Yarrington, the Master of the Watch Com- mittee. I am so well accustomed to duty, that I rather think I should like it. It will help us too to provide for our children's wants."
" Accept it, if you please, and I hope you will give satisfaction to your employer. It is some- thing like sentinel duty, and puts me in mind of soldiery again."
Hewitt became accordingly watchman to Mr. Yarrington, Sen., who was much struck with the intelligence of the man, and placed the utmost confidence in his integrity. From him, Hewitt and his family received many kindnesses. He soon discovered the superior qualities of his watchman' s mind, and took a lively interest in conversing with him upon the subjects of his campaigns.
THE SOLDIER S WIPE. OO
The following letter, received from this highly respectable man, will justify the Author of this narrative in giving it to the public in this place.
" St. Simons, Norwich, January 5, 1846.
" Sir,
" In answer to your inquiry respecting the late Thomas Hewitt, it is now about twenty years since I first knew him. It was soon after he was dis- charged from the army. He was then very anxious concerning his prospect of obtaining a livelihood for himself and his family. I soon discovered him to be a man of intelligence, far beyond most men moving in his sphere of life. I advised him to call upon the late John Pattison, Esq., one of the Aldermen of Norwich. With that gentleman I had several interviews relating to Hewitt.
"I informed Mr. Pattison that Mr. H
of , was Hewitt's father. Mr. P., knowing
Mr. H , succeeded in obtaining a consider- able allowance towards his maintenance, and many favours during the time Mr. H was living.
84 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
" Hewitt was a watchman under me; but, finding it did not agree with his health, he was obliged to give it up. I always found him a man that might be trusted, and my firm belief is, that he was a man of the strictest integrity.
" I remain, Sir, " Your obedient servant,
" H. YARRINGTON.
" To the Rev. Richard Cobbold, " Wortham Rectory."
THL SOLDIER'S WIFE. 85
CHAPTER V.
EVERY man's life has its changes. No day is like the one gone by. Every one brings with it some dissimilarity. A wise man has said, "There is nothing new under the sun •" but, as everything is growing old, even the world itself, so must every, thing be changing ; and if, from change to change, we are proceeding in our course, may God grant we may go on changing for the better, till we come to our last change, and be happy for ever !
" I find my time fully occupied, my dear," said Hewitt to his wife ; and I know not what it is to be
86 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
idle. Our boys are growing up, and begin to read well. Absalom is at the top of his class, and Thomas begins to know his letters. I want but a few more pupils, and I think we should be able to lay by a little."
" I am, indeed, happy, my dear, comparatively speaking, and enjoy the rest which God is pleased to give us from the toils and dangers of war ; and, as long as you have your health, and my fingers can work, our children shall not want for decent cloth- ing, nor for such education as we can afford. You will probably soon have some more pupils. Mr. Yarrington is very kind to us ; but I sometimes wish that this night-work could be dispensed with. What with blowing the clarionet in the day, keeping watch at night, and teaching the Sunday school on the Sabbath, I am afraid your lungs may be affected."
" My Sunday occupation is the pleasantest part of my work; and, as Mr. Valpy's health is not good, I have double pleasure in assisting our clergy- man, and in instructing the young. Children are
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 87
like soldiers : they require to be taught in companies, and to be drilled into discipline by one who understands training. I find, from my constant habit of teaching, that they look up to me, and obey me. It is curious that, after so many years of war, I should at last be engaged in the peaceful service of the Church of England. This is a change, indeed \"
It was one perfectly congenial to the mind of this brave man, who, having made very early improvement in his own studies, was then happily engaged in con- veying Christian instruction to the young. In 1825, the Rev. Mr. Valpy, in whose service he was so pleasantly employed, died ; and, with the change of pastors at St. Simon's, came change of master for the school. So that this profitable Sabbath employment, was changed from a public one to the more private instruction of his own family.
This was an eventful year of change to our heroine. After having seven sons, she gave birth to a daughter, adding to her domestic comfort as well as to her family cares. But a more singular event
88 JIARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
occurred soon after her recovery from her confine- ment. A letter arrived, announcing the existence of her mother, and not only her being alive, but that she was on her way to see her at Norwich.
It is an event, indeed, after seventeen years, to see an affectionate mother ; and, let a person's cir- cumstances be what they may, if natural affection be not extinct, the heart must indeed rejoice ! Who would not give, ay, all things, to see again the loved face of his childhood, to see the bright smile of approbation, to press again the warm hand of affection, or to interchange the soft kiss of parental and filial regard ? Away, coldness ! away, ye cruel forms of a heartless world, or damp chills of fashion ! A fond mother's face, after seventeen years' absence, must melt the heart of a man, arid try him tenderly, whether he be a child of God or not. If a child of God, he would fly into that mother's arms, and bless God for the inexpressible joy of such a moment. Let the fanatic assume what high at- tachment he may to his own faith, he would not be to be envied, if he could see his mother, who
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 89
gave him birth, who taught him his first prayers, watched his cradle, and yearned over him with the bowels of compassion ; he would not be to be envied, if he could see her after seventeen years, and be unmoved.
It was not likely that the genuine heart of affec- tion which our heroine possessed would fail to feel, ay, more than any pen of man can describe, when her loved parent entered her abode.
Each could but look at the other, and see the changes that time had wrought. Seventeen years before, and the bloom of youth sat on that daughter's cheek ; the cares of the mother had come with her womanhood, but she had never lost the affections of a daughter. And this may be one reason, reader, why now in her widowhood, her own children have never ceased to bless her and respect her, to treat her with the warmest affection, and in her poverty and distress to spare all they can for their mother's comfort.
A month did her mother stay with her, and with Hewitt and her daughter talked over the early
90 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
days of their youthful affection, of the changes at Gibraltar, and her own change of condition. After she had lost her husband at Cadiz, and her only son, she was very lonely, and being still an active, and by no means otherwise than a goodly person, she married a comrade of her husband's, a Cornishman, who, after serving his time in the Artillery, retired with a pension to Guinear in Cornwall, about twenty miles from the Land's End. At very advanced ages, this old couple, Thomas and Fanny Williams, are still living, as appears by a letter from them to the heroine of these pages, dated March 25th 1845, with this postscript.
" N.B. — When you direct,
" Direct for Thomas Williams,
" Pensioner, " No. 99, Tallywarren Street,
" Camborne,
" Cornwall."
Twenty letters from them, now lie before the author of this narrative, all breathing the purest
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 91
affection and respect for our heroine and her family.
The mother, after a month's stay, returned to her husband in Cornwall, and it is now twenty years since that visit was paid : times have wofully changed since then with her daughter, though their mutual affections are unaltered.
But we must trace the gradual advance of mis- fortune, because at that time there was no apparent occasion to dread any. Yet soon after this, we find that they left Norwich. There had been a name- sake of Hewitt's in the band of the 48th, who had always been upon the best terms with him. As he had served his time, and returned to live at Aylsham, his native place, he came to beat up his quarters, and staid a few days with our heroine. Those few days stirred up the former taste for soldiering.
" What say you, Hewitt, to another campaign ? After all, we are best fitted for soldiers. I have been requested to seek for some veterans of the Penin- sular campaign, to join the Norfolk Militia. Now
92 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
you and I had a pretty good share of the foreign wars. What say you to being on the peace esta- blishment at home ?"
" I must think the matter over, and talk it over with my wife,; \ve are well off here, and the old proverb, ' Let well alone/ may indispose her mind to changes. I see no objection to it. The pay is good, and the duty not very heavy. I will talk it over with her."
They did talk it over, and our heroine saw no objection to the plan proposed. She thought it better than the uncertainty of pupils and the watchman's place ; besides, the place to which they were to go, was at no great distance from Norwich, and they might still keep up their connexion in that city. Upon the whole, she approved the change, and Hewitt and his namesake entered into the Norfolk Militia and became active non-commis- sioned officers, under the command of Captain Guthrie, at Yarmouth.
Hewitt went over to N — to communicate the change to his parent, who again treated him hand-
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 93
somely, and gave him money to pay all the expenses of changing his place of abode, assuring him again of his great respect — that his income should be punctually paid to him, and that he would take care that it should be insured to him for his life.
It was a change to our heroine again to see her husband in uniform, and to find that he was a peaceful soldier of the militia. She and her young family removed to Yarmouth, and took up their abode near the Apollo garden walk. Here they lived for fourteen years, not without many changes ; for though the militia was for a time made strong, yet after a few years it was disbanded, and Hewitt had to return to teaching music again. One effect, how- ever, which his present appearance as a soldier had upon his young sons was, that it gave them a partiality for a red coat, which they never got over, notwith- standing the kindness of many friends who would have had them choose some more peaceful occupa- tion. Some quaker ladies were very kind to the boys, and took great notice of them, and in many ways befriended them.
94 MAEY ANNE WELLINGTON,
Hewitt, in 1827, was engaged to play the third clarionet at the Norwich Festival, and here he was first introduced to Professor Edward Taylor, who was so pleased with his modest deportment and scientific industry in the cultivation of music, that he made him a handsome present of a bassoon and other instruments, which his widow still keeps as a memorial of the Professor's kindness.
It was with no little pride and pleasure, that our heroine heheld her husband in the ranks of those performers who swelled the instrumental band at the Festival. She was permitted to go to the rehearsals, and truly might it be said, that she and many others enjoyed the treat with as much satis- faction as any of the more enlightened audience who came to see and to be seen, to hear, and to pay for what they heard, to the ultimate benefit of the hospital and other charities in the city of Norwich.
Harmony has its discords, and the cultivators of harmony frequently have jarring disagreements, even in getting up a grand entertainment for the
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 95
public amusement. For there is as much or more natural pride in those who have to play before a great audience, as there is in those who shine in the more retired drawing-room. The principle of harmony is good; but, in the practice, too many discords destroy the most harmonious sounds, and afford anything but gratification. So, in great public festivals, it is no easy thing to control the minds of all the performers, and bring them under the guidance of one conductor.
After having been a soldier a second time, and the regiment of Militia having been disbanded, Hewitt's father assisted him to embark in a fishing speculation at Yarmouth; but this turned out unprofitable. Loss of horses, boats, and various other circumstances, over which he had no control, rather tended to involve him in difficulties than to lift him above them, and proved that a good soldier might make but a sorry fishmonger. Still he contrived to bring up his family respectably. He had two more daughters born to him at Yarmouth, Martha and Kerenhappuck, the latter so named
96 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
because Job had seven sons and three daughters, and gave the last this name. But this daughter was not the last, for his wife brought him another, Priscilla, who still lives with her.
Eliza, after being carefully trained in Mrs. Turner's Sunday School, was bound apprentice to Miss Branch, the respected staymaker, at Yarmouth, whom she served two years in that capacity, and afterwards for five more as journey- woman.
" I " think, father," said Hewitt's son Absalom to him, after he was grown a fine boy, very tall for his years, " that I should like to be a soldier. I have always wished to be one, and you enlisted very young ; why should not I ?"
" I know no other reason, my boy, than that I think you hardly know your own mind yet. Were you fated to see as many difficulties and dangers as I have seen, I could sincerely wish you to drive a Yarmouth traul cart all the days of your life, in preference." ^
" Nay, father, that would be a sorry kind of life
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 97
for a soldier's son. Fancy me mounted on one of those strange vehicles, which go upon wheels without an axle — have no seats, and no sides — all length and no breadth — touch the ground with their bodies, whilst their legs, if I may so term the shafts, go up into the air higher than the horses' heads. I should look well on one of these carts ; for as to being in one, that would be an impossibility, since they have no insides, and, as they rattle along, look more like lumber gims than anything else. Put scythes to the hobs of the wheels, father, and they would look like the first Queen of England's war-cars, of which you were reading to us the other day, in the History of England. Let me be a foot soldier, and I shall be content."
The father thought the boy had some choice of his own, and only urged him not to be too hasty in deciding upon the point. The carts he mentioned are peculiar to Yarmouth, and are
VOL. in. p
98 MARY AX.NE WELLINGTON,
well adapted for the narrow rows ; as the nume- rous thoroughfares between the old sea front and the river's face are called. No one who visits Yarmouth can fail to note this feature of internal traffic from the shore to the most remote corners of the town.
If any physician wished to prescribe a novelty for his patient, he need but send him to Yar- mouth for a species of driving which would keep every muscle of his frame in active motion. Let him have to stand on one of these vehicles for two hours in a day, and permit one of the Yarmouth herring-men to drive it ; he would not long be afflicted with indigestion, which, Aber- nethy says, is the cause of all diseases.
Our heroine's eldest son, Absalom, could not be persuaded to change his mind, but enlisted in the 12th foot, took his departure for Ireland, and sailed from the Cove of Cork for the Isle of France, where he now is.
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 90
His brother, Thomas, some years afterwards followed his example, and is now a private in the Coldstreain Guards.
Changes, changes ! what changes we all see in the course of our lives ! Again our heroine changed her place of abode, and went to live at St. Martin's, Palace Plains, near the White Lion Inn, Norwich. Her husband found many friends to notice him. He was invited to play in several families, and the soldier, with his medal, which he was entitled to wear at all times, became a noted character.
It is pleasant to look through the letters of their children, and see flowing from their hearts the same strain of affectionate piety as flowed from the hearts of their parents. It would be tediously spinning out a nar- rative, to introduce the epistles of sons to parents, from the various parts of the world where they were quartered. It will be enough
F 2
100 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
for the Author to state that he has had great pleasure in perusing them, and he can honestly and conscientiously affirm, that they are letters such as young men of good principles, and affec- tionate and dutiful sons, would write to parents whom they honoured at home, and never ne- glected to honour, though they found themselves in distant lands.
In writing these pages, the author is glad to find that, notwithstanding all the changes which visited this family, one bond of unity has under- gone no change among them, namely, mutual love for each other; and may God grant that nothing may ever break it, but that with his grace, it may be more firmly knit, till time shall be changed for them into eternity.
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 101
CHAPTER VI.
AFFLICTION.
WHO was more eloquent upon the 'afflictions of human life, than the celebrated Kirwan, Dean of Killala? If any man by words painted a picture to the life, it was this celebrated preacher, whose glowing and impassioned oratory was addressed to the hearts of his hearers with such an irresistible appeal, that, it is said, those who came to scoff at his powers, went away in tears.
102 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
" The lieart of man," lie exclaimed, " is a labyrinth, of whose uncertain ways God alone -can have a knowledge. Though the world should put him in possession of all its delights and all its enjoyments, they would be insufficient to fix and satisfy him, for he has one attachment nearly invincibly incompatible with rest and content- ment ; namely, an everlasting desire for change and novelty. The love of happiness is essential to his being. When the appearance presents itself, he flies to it with rapidity. The moment it commences nearly puts a period to its enjoy- ment. What does it serve him to possess, since he never ceases to desire ? Such is too truly the prevailing character of man, till trouble arrives, which brings wisdom on its gloomy wings, and tells him too clearly he is to look for true and durable felicity only beyond the grave !"
Pardon, reader, this serious quotation, from memory, which the author never needed to read
' THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 103
a second time, since every line became indeli- bly impressed upon his mind from the very first perusal. They often spring up, when he sees in real, every-day life, their solemn force. He could not help transcribing them, as the thoughts of the coming chapter moved over his brain.
Affliction ! It is a word which thousands cannot endure to hear mentioned but in private. Eloquent perhaps in the deepest silence, it broods in a language of its own over sufferings mental or bodily, which pen cannot express. Take the kingdom of God for a few moments out of a man's heart, and see how he will mourn and pour out his soul in the most plaintive melodies, such as no earthly loss whatever could equal : as cruel men in some countries take out the eyes of a poor bird, that it may warble its tender lay to the refined but heartless feelings of its listen- ing conquerors. Does the song compensate for
104 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
the loss, when the man cannot restore the eye- sight ? Oh, hard, tyrant man ! boast not of joys purchased by the punishment of a tender, help- less bird ! Were but the great God to take from thee that blessed Comforter who cheers thee on thy journey, thou wouldst sing a mournful ditty to thy fellows, who would not understand thy wailing ! Oh, be not cruel then to any creature, and thy affliction shall never be without a sweet peace.
Our heroine, though a soldier's wife, had a tender heart, even in the stirring, hardening times of war. As a mother, she had been des- tined to feel the sorrows of life, in parting with beloved infants and children, not one of whom she would not gladly have had survive herself. But she was now called upon to endure the loss of a daughter, who was endeared to her and her husband by the singular precocity of talent with which she was endowed. Heaven fits, or rather
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 105
the God of Heaven and Earth fits and prepares the young mind, with very early calls to his kingdom ; and, though most men wish to live to the utmost limit of human years, from that natural tenacity to life which all creatures possess, yet there are few parents of families of any extent, who have failed to witness the wisdom of those children who have been early called to be partakers of a heavenly kingdom. The calm- ness with which, in sickness, they look upon things past, present, and to come, is a beautiful lesson of family piety, almost enough to make the strong and healthy envy the tranquil joy of the wise and sickly.
" Mother/' said the little Martha to her parent, " I shall never live to be a woman ; nor do I desire so to do. Father and you are very kind to me, and I love you dearly. Brothers and sisters too are very good to me, and I love them all; but still I think I shall have
F3
106 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
to leave you all — I do not think I shall live long."
What was a mother to reply to this ? The little Martha was by no means strong. She was a delicate, sensitive, singularly intelligent child, whose actions appeared to be governed by a wisdom which the ablest divines, in their most beautiful discourses, might have inculcated. She was a child full of thought, ever thinking, and, like a most perfect ear, she could no more bear a discordant word, than that ear could bear a note out of tune.
A harsh word was grating to her ear, an irre- verent one was shocking; but a blasphemous one, let it be uttered in the broad street, would make the child cling to her parents as if there were a wild beast let loose in her way. The father and mother observed this early delicacy, and Hewitt, in his hours of instruction, found his little daughter Martha receive all he could
. THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. JO?
give her, and yet desire more. Sweet thirst for truth, whenever childhood, youth, or manhood, shall seek to know what God has revealed for its instruction and happiness ! Heavenly Father, thou who callest thy children to thyself, it is a sweet consolation that thou permittest even a soldier, a rough parent, or a soldier's wife, a kind mother, to give instruction to thy children, and to know that as thine they can never be lost!
" My dear child," said the mother, " I know you are not of a strong constitution, and I will not deceive you by saying that you are; but God can do all things, and can make your natural weakness strong with his strength."
" I know it, mother ! I know it ! for as father told me this very Sabbath evening, His strength is made perfect in our weakness ; but, mother, his strength is not bodily strength, but strength
108 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
of spirit, to love him and his goodness more dearly than anything else."
What a speech was this for a child ! and yet it was simply the wisdom she had perceived, and was unanswerable. Yet the father tried hep faith a little when he said with earnestness, " How can you say, my dear child, that his strength is not bodily strength, when you read of the miraculous bodily power of Samson ? Was not his strength merely mortal ?"
"Father, that strength was made perfect in his weakness. He was weak enough to suffer himself to be bound with cords, and yet in the moment of his utmost self-abasement, he burst them asunder. He was weak enough to reveal the secret of God's strength bestowed upon him, and he l^ad his eyes put out. But when his enemies were most strong against him, and prevailed with their utmost cruelty, he put forth his prayer to his God, and prayed for his
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 109
strength, and down came the columns of the idolatrous temple, and he slew more in his death than he had done in his life. How can you call this mortal strength ?"
Was the father able to gainsay this? The little divine, for so he called his beloved Martha, would have had him question her further ; but he took her in his arms, and put an end to an argument which he found himself unable and unwilling to combat, and conquered or rather prevailed with a kiss, not of betrayal, but of exquisite affection.
Yet this dear child was to be lost to him ; and, though he sincerely delighted in her superior mind and joyed to see her every time he came into his house, he felt, each time he saw her, that she was leaving him, though she evinced more and more warm affection for him. Could he desire that she should remain in a world where everything shocked her? Nature and grace had to struggle in the heart of the parent
110 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
more severely than in that of the child. Nature, pure, simple, innocent, affectionate, nature, in the tender child, was part of the perfection of God's grace, and suffered no shock in her, because she found it part of God's love in her ; but the parent felt his own loss, felt for the little sufferer's bodily pains, and died in his own heart whilst he willingly yielded her up to his Creator.
Little Martha had an affection of the chest, which for a long while tormented her ; but she did not complain, and rather sought to soothe her father and mother with the prospect of her departure than to grieve them.
" I do not like to see those tears, dear father," she said to him before her death, " they seem to me ungrateful. Why do you weep ? Is it for me ? Pray do not do so, for my departure ought to be your joy. You read to me just now, ' Blessed are the dead that die in the Lord F Why do you grieve then ? Have you any doubts about my dying in the Lord ?"
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. Ill
" No, my dear child, no. I do not grieve on this account. I am sorry to lose you so early in life."
"And what would you have me live for, father ? You have no mansion for me here, but my heavenly Father has prepared for me a place to dwell in, better than the palace of the bishop ! You can promise me no joys here, but my heavenly father assures me there are joys ever- lasting at his right hand, and so said the dear bishop, when I heard him preach on Good Friday, at the Cathedral. You can give me no crown, yet you read to me of crowns of glory as the reward of the children of God."
" Dear child, you speak so confidently as to make me think you know not that you are a sinner."
"Dear father, and would you have a sinner doubt ? For whom did the Redeemer suffer ? Not for me, if I had not been a sinner. Have I
112 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
forgotten how many times you have corrected me ? I did wrong, you forgave me, because I confessed to you my faults ; but, dear father, I perceived that my sins were against God, and your forgiveness could not forgive me before Him. For that reason, I felt I wanted forgive- ness from Him, and you told me that Christ only could obtain that for me. In Him then did I find it. How then can you suppose that I could forget that I had been a sinner ? But God forgives me, and I heard his forgiveness pronounced at church by his minister, and took it as such to my soul."
Could the wisest argue better ? Could the father gainsay a word? He submitted to the hand that gave the blow, and the dear child died in his arms.
"Mary," said he to his wife, "that child's death is the first nail in my own coffin. It is not that I am so melancholy as to be without
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE.
hope for you and for myself ; but I did love that child dearly, I did delight in her singular preco- city, and I feel that I must go to her ; she cannot come to me."
It was singular, but not long after the child's decease, Hewitt's health began to fail him. He became subject to asthma, and found that his breathing through the clarionet and the bassoon- were followed by a strange pricking in the throat* He could never forget his little Martha; he would speak of her at all times, but especially when his children came home to meals, and seemed to miss her society.
"I cannot rouse myself, Mary/' he said to his wife, " I cannot rid myself of the idea, that it will not be very long before I shall go to her, since she cannot come to me. Let me be where I may, that child's questions, her extraor- dinary arguments, and her sincere devotion, seem to press themselves upon my mind, and,
114 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
sleeping or waking, my little Martha is always present with me."
It was not that he did not love his wife and children with the same warmth as he formerly did. If possible, he loved them more. He spent more of his time at home. For, on account of the irritation of his chest, he found it dange- rous to indulge in his former pursuits. He was one of the finest possible bassoon players in an accompaniment. His ear was perfect, and his taste extremely good ; but the bassoon is a dan- gerous instrument for any person whose lungs or whose breathing is affected.
An active man is very unwilling to give up his accustomed employment, though he may actually require rest, to preserve his health or his life. How many a workman, with pallid cheeks and starting eyes, has risen perhaps to his unhealthy occupation, when nature called out, " Keep your bed, you want rest for a few
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 115
days." Alas ! he has a wife and children, whom he knows will call for bread, and he cannot aiford to lose his time. So he goes to work and increases his disease, till he can go no longer. So our heroine's husband would go on playing his bassoon, until he was compelled, from sheer exhaustion, to give it up.
His active mind, however, knew no rest. He read, he wrote, he thought, and now he con- versed, day after day, with his affectionate wife, upon things which more deeply concerned his soul. Affliction brought him nearer to his God. He saw his hand at work in the career of his own life, and observed to his wife that it had been a very merciful one.
" I ought to be more thankful, my dear, than I am, for this very affliction which now prevents my earning for you, as I used to do, such a weekly aid as enabled us to live in comfort. But we must soon remove to a less expensive habitation,
116 MARY ANNE AVELLINGTON,
for I feel that, as my powers decay, we shall not be able to meet the expenses of our family without changing our place of abode. We now stand at a high rent, and our children require all we can spare from our income. You and I have known too many changes to heed a remove, and it is better to be honest and pay our way, than to live in misery beyond our means."
" I have no objection, my dear, to any change which may ease your mind and render you more comfortable. We have slept upon the bare ground many a stormy night, and any house in this city affords us better shelter than the plains of Salamanca. It is nothing to me to give up these fancied comforts, when your health and peace are the object. Now you mention the subject, I think our friend, the landlord of the Ten Bells, who has known us so many years, has some houses to let not far from him. They are small and very reasonable, and what is the
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 117
difference between St. Martin's Palace Plains, and the Ten Bell Lane ? I will go and see him, and try if we can arrange about the rent. Do not make yourself uneasy about any luxuries for me, Hewitt ; a soldier's wife should be prepared to more than meet her husband's misfortunes."
A woman is braver than a man in the hour of retrenchment, if she loves her husband as much as she does herself. What a blessing she is to a man, if she can deprive herself of any accustomed luxuries, to support the character of her husband for honesty. What are luxuries, when a person cannot afford to pay for them, but robberies committed upon honest principle, which in the end produce more misery in their possession, than they could possibly do if rejected? "Retrenchment" sounds harshly on the ear of luxuriating pride; but those \dio would not forfeit love for all the possessions of pride, know well that the meeting an evil with a
118 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
good heart and a firm hand, carries with it un- speakable joy.
The soldier's wife had no smart carriage to lay down, no livery servants to discharge, no horses with flowing tails and flying manes to part with ; but she had her comforts of compa- rative luxury to give up, which one who had earned them after many a hard-fought fight, and many a weary hour, was perhaps as much entitled to enjoy, as the lord or lady of the proudest mansion. A woman who had looked a wolf in the face without a shriek, would not be likely to make much lamentation about retrenchment.
As a good wife, she soon changed the more expensive dwelling for an humbler one, and took up her lodging in the Ten Bell Lane, Pottergate Street, Norwich, in a small, retired court, and never uttered a murmur at the remove. Afflic- tion did not leave that roof, though one outward
IKE SOLDIER $ WIFE.
cause of annoyance might be got rid of. It required all the energies of a good manager, with a sick husband, and herself and family to feed and clothe, upon a pension and allowance, which, when the earnings of an active man were added to them, were an ample provision. Care and atten- tion, economy and honesty, affection and cheer- fulness, with that never desponding faith which relies upon the daily mercies and providence of God, made the retired lodging in Ten Bell Lane, very soon as comfortable as the house on the Palace Plains.
The best men in this world, at any period of its existence, have known what it is to be poor ; and, as the author began this chapter with a quotation from the waitings of the wise and eloquent Dean of Killala, he cannot better close it than by another quotation, an example of his doctrine, that affliction is better than riches.
120 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
" Look to Solomon in all his glory ; the im- mensity of his treasures, the magnificence of his palaces, his flourishing states; beloved of his subjects, respected by his neighbours, celebrated and admired through every region of the earth ; then turn from this dazzling picture of all human prosperity, to contemplate Job, deprived in a moment of all his earthly possessions, the children he adored torn suddenly from his embrace, cruelly abandoned by his relations, basely insulted by his friends, stretched upon the earth naked and forlorn, his body covered with putrifying sores ; in a word, reduced to a situation which no imagination can dwell upon without extraordinary horror.
"Which of the two would you conceive to have been most favoured of God ; the man whom excessive prosperity plunged at length into the very abyss of impurity, or he whose unparalleled adversity became at once the proof and triumph of his virtue ?
'•OB
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 121
" I need not say what the answer of a true Christian would be, or of any individual capable of distinguishing the true sublimity of the human character."
VOL. in.
122 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
CHAPTER VII.
AX UNEXPECTED BLOW.
MAN'S difficulties are attributed by many wise men of this world, to his own want of wisdom. To be poor, according to such men's ideas, is to be a fool. Nay, there are some who seem to imagine that it is the very first duty of the Christian ministiy to teach worldly prudence, the laying up of treasure upon earth, the getting money somehow; and when it is gotten, the taking care of it, laying it out so as to bring in
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 123
the greatest interest, in insurances, railroad specu- lations, investments in land, mines, ships, canals, and all the variety of profitable channels which may present themselves to the eager thirst for gain. The clergy are sometimes reproached hy a wise brother for not taking advantage of some of these opportunities, as if the golden grain of Mammon were the best fruit they could reap.
Let those rejoice in their riches who can get and keep them ; but let not a good man despair, though poverty may stare him in the face ; let him not repine, let him not forget that God provides the daily bread of the humble, and that he will never .desert any of his children. His purse may be very low, but let him be lowly himself, let him be ready to give, of that lowly spirit which he possesses, such gifts as God has given him, and he need not doubt, that men will, if he has patience, pour into his bosom sufficient
& 2
124 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
of the abundance which God has given them, that he may be provided for.
Benevolence makes many rich without dimin- ishing the possessions of the donor; and, though it may be more blessed to give than to receive, yet if the recipient of bounty takes that which is given him by mortal hands, as from the blessed instruments and agents of the Almighty, he will never be at a loss for gratitude and will never offend or be offended in his poverty. The workman is worthy of his hire, and will be paid sufficiently if he will do his work diligently; but if he will be idle, he cannot expect the blessing of God or man. Affliction, bodily or mental, may deprive an honest man of power to work, and then he becomes an object of real compassion.
There was not a more industrious, pains- taking, decent, and respectable couple, than our heroine and her husband, in the line of life in
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 125
which they sought their livelihood. They had toiled through the Peninsular campaigns with honour, and had left the British army without ever once incurring the slightest reprimand for any neglect of duty; hut, on the contrary, received many testimonials of grateful respect from comrades and from officers who knew them. Before the writer of these pages, lie letters from soldiers who called our heroine's husband their Mentor, instructor, adviser, and friend. One of them is so characteristically im- pressive of the fact, that it will serve by its insertion here to shew, that Hewitt and his wife were looked up to by those who valued intelli- gence and integrity, though but privates in the ranks of the British army. The author gives a copy of the letter, and he does not fear that men of generous minds will fail to appreciate its merits, though it may have many literal defects. The letter is written on a sheet of foolscap paper,
126 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
and contains a most accurately traced map, made from observation, and which would be no dis- grace to any officer of engineers, whose education might enable him to appreciate its accuracy. The author alters not a word, nor a letter, in- tentionally. The handwriting is not bad, though old fashioned ; still, it is a genuine production. It is from his old comrade, Leonard.
Kingston, 9th of August, 1840.
" Good Mentor,
" I have Endeavoured to the Best of my Judg- ment to give you a True map as far as my Abilities Goes ; this is very True you may Depend, for you only have to Consider that I always had my walk Round the Lower fort once Every Day at Least. And sometimes twice a week and Never Missed going once a week to the Upper Fort. And Principally to See his Highness the Rajah of Curnool Who was a
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 127
State Prisiner in the Citidal. — you shall hear More of him in My future Letters — I shall not enter Into the Account of Bellary Untill my Next Letter, which will be wholely taken upon that Place. I hope you have Received the papers I Sent you, In one was an Account of Napoleon Trying to Poison himself at Fontenbleau. But how to take it for Truth is Still a Secret with me. I shall not say anything in this Letter of our Journal more than to say, I have got a Great Deal of Matter for your Information, Both pain and Pleasure, I have to say that I have with my Mrs Enjoyed the Charms of our Fair, and Summer's Cheering Delight. — But through all our Delights I have Never once Forgotten, you and your Family in my Jovial Glass — No Hewitt this time 31 years we were you know well, on our half- Starved Retreat. And at the time you Get this Letter we were I Suppose Upon Enter-
128 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
ing the Lofty But Pleasant Hills of Garasiaga, not far from pizzaro's Native Place. However my Friend these are all Bygone Days — But Still I Look Back, to Some of those Scenes with Pleasure, of all the Countreys I ever was In, Spain Certainly Gives me the greatest Pleasure to think off, as for Portugal My thoughts Seldom Goes there without it is to Bring to Mind our Affair in punhetta. And some more Little adventures. — Spain is Romantic And Grand in its Appearance Good and Virtuous People But a Bad Government, which I think Providence will alter, as the present times seems to foretell some Events for Bettering Spain. In Some of your future Letters, I should Like your opinion upon the Present State of the World as Regards its Warfare Position. And what you think of England, I am Afraid She is going Down Hill. Also Russia, Prussia, Austria, France. Our
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 129
Eastern possessions, And China, not Forgetting the New found out Country in the South Pole Quarter.
"I have Been Requested to Let you Know that Mr. Becket sends his kind Respects to you and Mrs. Hewitt and he wishes you to give the Same to Lones when you have the Pleasure to see him. I had him at my House Spending one Day with Us, when we Talked over a good many Old Olds.
" I told you In one of My Former Letters that he had Married Jackey Boon's wife who was Killed Near Salamanca this Woman died about 16 years Ago And the Old Lady B now conse- quently, is the .Second wife. Becket seems to do very well — at present keep a Grocer's Shop, and sells Beer But not to Be drunk in the house.
"You will give our kind wishes to Mrs. Hewitt and Children. And May the Blessing of the
G 3
130 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
Almighty God, Attend you and your Family in all your Affairs, is Hewitt, the Constant wish of your old Fellow Traveller.
" J. LEONARD.
" To Thomas Hewitt.
"P.S. — Charming fine Weather at this time/*
Who shall say this is not an honest, hearty, intelligent letter, from a common soldier to an old comrade? Could the reader see the map, as drawn by this brave fellow' s pen, he would say, if he had a son in India, " I wish my boy would pen me such a one." Should Leonard be now alive, he need not be ashamed that it is in the possession of the author of this book.
This letter has been introduced, simply to shew that the man to whom it was written was worthy of respect, though at that time in reduced circumstances, which, alas ! were soon followed
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131
by a severe blow. News reached him from his uncle at Hingham, that his father was dead.
This was a sudden blow ; and, as Hewitt had not been in very good health, it occasioned a depression of spirits to which he had never before been subject. The loss of his little daughter, Martha, might have predisposed his mind to melancholy, and the falling off of the profits of his teaching might have created unwonted anxiety in any man of strong nerve ; and, when such causes for grief are accompanied with bodily* weakness, /the stoutest heart is forced to yield to the common afflictions of human nature. The death of a father, who had been a kind friend to Hewitt, and for whom he felt the deepest respect, was at this moment severely felt.
"I wonder, my dear," said he to his wife, " whether I shall receive any intimation from any ot tne family to attend his funeral ? I should
132 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
wish to be there. It must now be known what allowance he has made me, and how it is to be continued ; perhaps I shall hear in a day or two. If not, I shall go to Hingham, and hear what my uncle says to it."
"We shall certainly hear soon, and as it is near the quarter-day, some one will write to you. I should not be surprised if something in the shape of a legacy were left for you ; and it would come in very acceptably at the present time. At all events, there could be no harm in your paying the outward respect to your father's memory, by attending, even if unknown, at the funeral."
" I shall wait a day or two, and, if I hear nothing, I shall go over."
He waited, but each day passed and brought nothing but increased anxiety. So off the poor fellow started for Hingham and thence to N .
THE SOLDIER S WIFE.
As he had been at the Crown several times, and was known to be in some way or another connected with the deceased, though the exact relationship was not known, the landlord was not surprised to see him enter his house with a countenance of unfeigned sorrow.
" "We have lost the Squire, Sir," said he, " and I suppose you are come over to the funeral. Ah ! Sir, he was a good-hearted, kind gentleman. We shall many of us miss him, and the poor most of all."
" When is the funeral to take place ?"
" To-morrow, Sir. Are you going up to the
house ?" t
" No, Landlord, I shall take up my quarters with you. I had a great respect for the deceased gentleman, and have walked from Norwich on purpose that I may see the last duties paid to his remains. Who are his nearest relatives ?"
" He has none very near, that I know of.
134 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
His lady is living, and a sister of bet's lives with her. There are no lineal descendants of the Squire's alive. He has been altering very visibly for some months. Did you know him before you first came here, Sir ?"
" I knew him when I was a boy, landlord, and have received from him many personal kind- nesses, and I think he had a great regard for me. But he is gone, and I shall never forget his kindness."
" I have no doubt many will feel and say the same ; and I, for one, shall always feel respect for his memory. Are you going to look at the vault to-day ? if so, I will walk with you."
" I shall be glad of your company. I never
was in N Church. It will have a painful
place in my memory, on account of the occa- sion."
" You speak very feelingly of our late Squire, and I am sure he deserved your good opinion.
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 135
Ah, Sir, we cannot live for ever, and wealth will not keep a rich man alive one day longer than a poor one."
"That I know nothing of. It must be as God pleases ; His will must be done and not our own. If you had been spared in as many scenes of death as I have been, you would learn to know the value of your latter days, compared with your early ones/'
" Have you been in many battles ?"
" I have been in almost all that were fought in the Peninsula, and have survived them twenty- seven years. Wealth may not keep a man alive beyond his time ; but poverty, with a large family calling upon you for bread, and you not strong enough to earn it, must make you so over-anxious as imperceptibly to shorten your days. It is pleasant to be able to leave some- thing behind you for your widow and children/*
"Yes, Sir, it is pleasant to a man, perhaps,
MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
to be enabled so to do; but if not, I do not see that he ought to let it shorten his life. We all live by God's providence ; if we can do no more for them ourselves, we can always pray to Him who is a father to the fatherless, and the God of the widow ; and, if we can see with the eye of faith, Lhow provident he has been for us, we ought not to doubt his care of them."
Hewitt turned round with sudden astonish- ment, looked the man earnestly in the face, and said :
" I did not expect such a speech from a publican. There is truth in that beyond the power of any to gainsay. You have done me as much good as if an angel had crossed my path."
"I have only spoken an every-day axiom of Christian life, and one which I have heard so many times inculcated^ from the pulpit of our
. THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 137
Church, that, sinner as I am, I cannot forget it. I see too many, however, who neglect their wives and families for their own gratification ; and, as far as in me lies, I have endeavoured to convince those who frequent my tap too often, that they are doing an injury to them- selves and their families, for which they will never forgive themselves at the last. You may think it strange, that I should thus shorten, as you would term it, my own profits; but I have never found it do so. On the contrary, no man comes to my house to drink more than he ought, and I never trust any man to take a pint without paying for it. I have not had a drunkard in my house for twenty years."
"If every one did but follow your maxim, we should find the blessings of God properly used, and not abused. You give me much pleasure. I am a man, landlord, who has ft wife and five children : — a pensioner, with two
138 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
sons in the British Army, and three good daughters at home. I have been enabled by industry to bring them \vp decently, and to give them comforts which many do not possess ; but I have found my pursuit failing me of late, and I fear that it may totally fail. Still I ought to be thankful ; but I fear that I am not sufficiently so. But here we are at the Church. It is a very fine structure; what is the name of it ?"
" It is St. Andrew's. The clerk is now going into the Church, let us follow him."
Hewitt, and the landlord of the Crown inn, went into the Church of N . Their first in- quiry was concerning the time of the funeral. Then followed an inspection of the spot where Squire H was to be interred, and many ques- tions on subjects in which the general reader would be but little interested. He may be already tired of the heaviness, or, as he may
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 139
term it, prosiness of this chapter; but if he has any taste for architecture, he should go and inspect N — —Church. :'.-*<•
It is a magnificent fabric, with a lofty tower, built in the fifteenth century; the nave, aisles, and chancel in conformity with the exterior of the edifice, and the roof of the nave of beautifully carved oak, ornamented with eagles, with expanded wings. If he examine the north side of the chancel, he will see a very elaborate piece of workmanship, which some antiquarians might write a volume upon. The upper part is formed of curiously-wrought spiral work, with arched canopies and niches, and in the lower compartment there are three effigies of men in armour, separated by three trees.
After much conversation with the old clerk about the deceased Squire, in which very honour- able mention was made of his generosity and general kindness to the poor, Hewitt and the
140 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
landlord returned to the inn, and, as the ice, which is generally pretty thick in this northern clime, was broken between them, they melted towards each other, and, to the great comfort of the lonely traveller, he was permitted to spend the evening of that day with this good land- lord's family : a better specimen of an honest old English inn-keeper, did not exist in his day.
But the morrow came — the funeral came : as private as it well could be in a populous village : but two mourners, and servants, and numerous work-people. In the multitude, not one heart more grieved than that of the British soldier, who felt what he never revealed to any one but his God. He saw the last act of friendship paid to the memory of the deceased ; and, when others had retired, he remained, to reflect awhil? upon one whom he never, to his very last hour, forgot. In silent thoughtfulness of prayer, he
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 141
saw the tomb closed up, and returned to the inn, took a grateful leave of the good landlord, and started again for Hingham.
No notice had been taken of him at the funeral : he passed for a stranger, and as a stranger conducted himself ; but he did not feel as such. He had lost a friend — and is there a living man who has known what this feeling is, and does not sympathize with this honest man, returning from his natural father's funeral, unknown by any, uninvited to it, but with a heart satisfied that he had done an act of duty, of which it could never feel ashamed ? Every man requires a friend. — May they who can best feel for others, never be without this sup- port.
142 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON",
CHAPTER VIII.
THE WILL.
ALL men who have any property should make their wills when they are in sound mind and body. They should never leave it to be done at the time when a physician is called in, or when they think they have but a few hours to live. The man, at such times, is not only apt to forget what property he is possessed of, but frequently repents at the moment of death that he has not done right, or has been too
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 143
hasty, or has given some wrong direction, for- gotten some one whom he wished to befriend, or left too great a sum for his residuary legatee.
A father of a family should remember that he is doing the last kind act by his wife and children, and, as it were, settling the claims of all his creditors honourably in the sight of God and man. And he should always have this will made — even if he should have to make one on the 1st of January in every year. But he should take care to have but one, and to see the others destroyed. He may have two or three copies of that one will deposited in different places, but they should be exactly the same; and made with a composed mind, a Christian heart, and, as he would be done unto by others, so should he do to them. The right disposition of an honest man's property will always tend to his composure and comfort.
Men never die the sooner for having their
144< MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
affairs in this life wound up, their houses set in order, and all their temporalities disposed of as they ought to be. These things rather tend to lengthen than to shorten a man's exist- ence. At all events, they tend to strengthen his mind; and, as every one knows he must die, and cannot tell when or how, so should he seize upon the first tranquil hour of his life to be prepared against his death.
"Very good advice!" many a reader may say; "all very good; but — " and this but has so much contrary direction, that each may find some excuse for not complying with it. If, however, he should comply, or should have previously complied with it, he will be sure to feel a satisfaction in reading this page.
" Our quarter-day is- up, my dear," said
Hewitt to his wife. " I have been to Mr. M ,
and he has not received any order to pay me my dividend as usual. Something must be
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 145
wrong. I am much disturbed about it. What ought I to do ? I think I ought not to delay my application to the executor. I will inquire of Mr. M what would be best."
"You cannot do better. But do not be so disturbed; all will, I dare say, be made right at last."
Hewitt had a long interview with Mr. M
in his office; he strongly recommended him to obtain a copy of the will of the late Squire
H , and he assisted him so to do. But, in
the mean time, as his necessities were very press- ing, and delays might only add to his embar- rassment, he recommended him to go and obtain an interview, if he could, with the widow of his parent. He might write a respectful letter, stating exactly the nature of his relation- ship, and requesting an interview with the lady, or with some friend of hers. He thought he would be quite justified in his application, as
VOL. III. H
146 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
it was impossible that she could be ignorant
that he, Mr. M , had constantly received for
many years, the quarterly sum allowed him. It was, in fact, a mere matter of justice to his family. He would give him a note, certifying the bearer thereof to be the identical person into whose hands the money had been regularly paid.
"Do this/' he added, "and then let me know the result of your application, and I will give you my best advice afterwards."
Hewitt was soon again at the Crown Inn, N — , and wrote a respectful letter to the widow of Squire H — , stating exactly the circumstances in which he had been left, and, with the utmost delicacy, requesting her kind consideration of his claims, and an interview with the lady, or with some one of her confidential advisers.
This letter was taken up to the mansion, and an answer sent to the bearer, that some
THE SOLDIER'S wiFfi. 147
one would come down to the inn, and speak to the man.
The lady sent, accordingly, her housekeeper, who, as all officials entrusted to settle a matter off-hand, and to send the applicant about his business, appeared before the dejected soldier with all the borrowed consequence of her mis- tress.
"Are you the man that wrote a letter to my mistress, calling yourself the son of my deceased master, and seeking for money at her hands ? This is too old a trick to be played in these times ; so the sooner you give it up, and go about your business, the better. My mistress declines having anything to do with you. Landlord !" and she called the landlord in, " this impertinent fellow is an impostor ! He has been writing a threatening
letter to Mrs. H , to obtain money under
false pretences, and if you do not turn
H 2
148 MARY AN.NE WELLINGTON,
him out of your house^, you ought not to remain in it. Ask him what business he had to dare to send a letter up to my mistress at all 1 Your boy brought the letter. I am sure you could not have known what kind of epistle it was, or, from your well-known respectability, I am sure you would not have permitted him to carry it up to the house ; and, most assuredly, had I known the kind of person it came from, it should never have gone into my good lady's hand. She is quite upset by it ! Poor thing ! after her recent loss too, to have such an attack made upon her by such a scurrilous tramp as this ! It is enough to make her seriously ill, landlord, and the sooner you get rid of the fellow the better; if he will not go by fair means, lie ought to be set in the stocks, and then pelted with rotten eggs out of the village."
Hewitt and the landlord heard out this despe-
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE.
rate-tongued woman, who, the furthe* slie wenty appeared to be the more violent, and assumed a character which she found no difficulty in acting, as long as she was uninterrupted. She went on with such eloquent abuse and such absurd assertions, threatening so loudly the stocks, pillory, gaol, transportation, and even1 hanging — though that was too good for- him, that at last she came to a stand-still ; but not before she had revealed the secret which the stranger had never mentioned to the landlord. He saw how matters were; and, calling to mind some early, occurrences, and reports which he had
heard when he first came to N , he was not
so much surprised, though most deeply in- terested in the case. He thought it best to let Hewitt have the settling of his own affairs, and he therefore kept silence.
The poor fellow, perfectly conscious that he had written nothing to disgrace himself, gave
150 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
a pretty good guess concerning the voluntary part, if nothing worse, that this foolish woman was acting; and, with the calmness of a man who had seen too much real strife to let the tongue of a virago afflict him, replied with a very simple question, and with such a look of earnestness, that the woman herself began to tremble.
' ' Landlord, you have heard what this woman has said, bear witness to my question. If she does not give me a straightforward answer to it, I will then trouble you to put on your hat, and walk up to the house with me. Now, young woman, have you any message to deliver to me from your mistress ? Has your mistress sent me anything by your hands ? If you have anything to deliver, do it at once, as becomes a good servant. For I will never believe that any lady in England would give utterance to any such language as you have
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 151
made use of, when she has been most respect- fully addressed, and cannot have been provoked to displeasure. Give me your answer."
Confusion sat upon the official's brow, whilst deep interest flushed the indignant face of the landlord; but the soldier kept his eye intently fixed upon that impudent countenance, which now, fairly abashed and confused, displayed the most ridiculous embarrassment. So does a bombastic fool tremble before a wise man's searching inquiry, and often confounds himself in a labyrinth of shame, from which he is compelled, awkwardly enough, to blunder out; conscious that he receives what he deserves—- contempt.
" Oh dear me ! — Yes — yes ! — I had forgotten, I was to — to say, that my mistress received your letter, and would consult with a friend upon the subject of your application. And yes — dear me, I had forgotten. Yes — my mistress
MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
s you a guinea, and hopes you will be satisfied."
Here, in a great flurry, she presented a guinea, neatly wrapped up in wliite paper, as though it had been a fee for consultation with some physician. But Hewitt very firmly refused to take it.
"Make my respects to your mistress, and say that I received a promise that the annuity which your late master allowed me, should be secured to me for life. The quarter is now due, and as I have a wife and young family, I should be obliged to her to pay it punctually. Pray tell your mistress, I shall remain in this place until she sends some more respectable person than yourself to confer with me upon a subject of such importance, I have sufficient testimonials with me to prove to her the facts I stated in my letter; but I do not choose to trust them with a person
THE SOLDIER'S WIPE. 153
who cuts so poor a figure as you do, for a respectable or confidential servant. Take the guinea back to your mistress ; and remember, do not keep it from her, as perhaps you might have intended to do from me."
With a toss of the head, and an indignant stamp of the foot, she left the inn ; but without uttering a single word. What kind of tale she made up for her mistress's ear, no one probably will ever know. Perhaps she cooled upon the matter as she walked home ; perhaps she thought better of the stranger she had seen ; perhaps she was a little conscience- smitten for her own improper speech : be it as it may, she certainly informed her mistress of the interview she had had, and that she was unable to persuade the applicant to leave the place, and mentioned also the subject of the annuity. For the next day, after having break- fasted with the landlord, and having been treated
H 3
154 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
by him with more respect than usual, a gen- tleman called to speak with Hewitt alone.
This gentleman was a contrast, indeed, to the unfeeling woman who had visited him the day before. He was in deep mourning, and in appearance, speech, and manners, was an easy and conversable man. Hewitt found him quite as firm and positive, as the former mes- senger had been flippant.
" I am come by the desire of Mrs. H ,
to speak to you upon a very delicate subject. You must be aware, in the first instance, that you have no claim of relationship upon her; in the next, if not aware of the fact, I can assure you of it, that your name is not men- tioned in the late Mr. H 's will, and that
you can, therefore, have no legal claim upon his estate. I would advise you then, not to trouble the widow with any importunities, as I know she will not listen to them."
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. . 155
"Are you aware, Sir, that I have had a quarterly allowance for the last twenty years, or nearly so ? — that this letter to the agent, who has hitherto paid me the same, contains a promise of its being paid punctually during my life ? — that these letters certify the dates of payment, these the acknowledgment of my claims upon him for support, and these the character of the poor man who now addresses you?" •
" May I look at those letters ? Would you permit me to make an extract or two ?"
" Most assuredly, if you please. I hope they will convince you that I am not seeking to impose upon you any fictitious tale. You will find that is from an alderman of Norwich, who was well acquainted with my deceased parent; and this, Sir, is that parent's reply. I ask you, as an honest man, if you can say that I have no claim upon the estate of my parent ?"
156 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
"I do not see that any of these letters give you any legal claim to the consideration of the executors of the deceased. They fully admit the natural claims which you assert, and beyond all doubt prove much aifection for you, and, at the same time, are highly creditable to your- self; but I do not see that they afford you any pretext for calling upon the widow to fulfil any engagement not expressed in the will of the deceased. I do not see how I could re- commend her to admit a claim which has no legal authority to establish it."
" What you say, Sir, may be very true, as far as law is concerned; but do you not see the admission, that the allowance was to be for my life ? And is it too much to expect that a widow should fulfil the intentions of her husband ?"
*(\ do not understand that his intentions have been so expressed to his wife in his life-
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 157
time. And there is much in those very letters which would induce me to suppose, that the various sums which he advanced were in lieu of any legacy ; and that what he allowed during his life, he intended as the utmost he would do for you. But, at all events, nothing is left for you, and I am sure you can obtain nothing, as you are even personally unknown to her."
"May I ask, Sir, for a copy of my father's will ? Where can I obtain a sight of it ?"
"You can obtain permission to see it when probate is granted, and you may obtain a copy of it from Doctors' Commons ; but I can assure you of its contents, and it may save you some ex- pense if you will be satisfied with my informa- tion."
"I think it so very extraordinary that no mention should be made of my name in it, that, for my own satisfaction, I shall certainly obtain a copy of it. I cannot understand why
158 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
my annuity should cease, without any mention of it."
" We have found a cheque, partly drawn in the hand-writing of the deceased, for the then coming quarter, which, though not strictly speak- ing liable to payment, I am nevertheless ordered by the widow to hand over to you: but you must consider it quite as a final transaction. And I assure you it is already considered such by her. So that I trust you will importune her no further."
" I am obliged to you, Sir, for this. I am in no condition to refuse anything which was intended for me by my deceased parent ; and, however much 1 may grieve to have been so strangely disappointed, I shall never cease to reverence his memory. He was a kind friend to me : I hope he is in a happier world. Pray make my respects to his widow, Sir, and say that I would not ask anything more for myself;
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 159
but if, hereafter, my poor family should become distressed, and I be removed from this trouble- some world, she would not reject the appeal of the destitute, but befriend them; it would be some consolation to the disappointed."
The gentleman left the poor man to reflect upon his father's will — upon his future position — upon his poor success ! He left him to pocket his letters, and his father's last cheque, half drawn by him, and completed by his executrix. Did a word of disrespect to any one escape his lips? No: a soldier, who had marched over mountains and through morasses, and experienced so many sufferings as he had in the celebrated retreats of Badajos and Sala- manca, without a murmur, was not likely to complain, however much he might endure the severity of disappointment.
He returned to his afflicted wife and children. His good partner shared his misfortune with
160 MAEY ANNE WELLINGTON,
becoming fortitude, and only sorrowed to see the silent grief which preyed upon her husband's mind. She was as cheerful as she could be ; and worked day and night to keep the wolf from the door. Not all her industry, not all the affectionate attention of herself and daugh- ters, could lift up the head of her husband. His strength began to fail him. His cough became troublesome, and it was evident to those who loved him best, that a settled melancholy began to overspread his mind. Still, like the occasional nickering of an expiring lamp, his spirit would sometimes blaze up and shine, as if he had received fresh vigour.
He saw Mr. M , consulted with him, ob- tained a copy of his father's last will and testament, brooded over it, found that it was dated the 18th of December, 1818, when he was with his regiment in Australia, and grieved — deeply grieved to think that owing to the
, THE SOLDIERS WfFE. 161
miscarriage of all his letters, that father should have thought him dead! — and when he found him alive, and was reconciled to him, that he should have left him penniless !
That copy of the will now lies before the author of this work, and will form a subject for reflection in a future chapter. Alas ! the real sufferings of life, if simply narrated, are more touching than all the fictions of fancy, or the visions of romance. May they produce patience, increase faith, hope, and charity in those who read them — and all will be the better for their instruction.
162 MAEY ANNE WELLINGTON,
CHAPTER IX.
DOMESTIC ANXIETIES.
DOMESTIC anxieties will weigh down the spirits of the bravest soldier, if accompanied by un- expected embarrassments. Still, they ought not to overwhelm any man who does not bring them upon himself by guilty conduct. Health must decay — sorrow every man is heir to — misfor- tunes and afflictions visit the best of men ; but integrity, integrity will bear him up against all the reproaches of men, though he cannot answer
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 163
one word to his God, in whose sight his inte- grity, however great, is nothing but filthy rags. The greatest patience was required in the case of the severest sufferer among mortals, Job, He could answer every man, but he could not speak a word in argument with God.
Our heroine had many a long and serious conversation with her husband, who sinking under his depressing circumstances, required the cheering voice of consolation to lift him up from darkness,
" I have looked over this will, my dear, and I seem to be the only person* forgotten in it. My father and I never had a word of dispute, we never had a reproach between us, and here see every body thought of but myself. Lega- cies to the grandchildren of his uncle, legacies to the niece of his wife, legacy to her sister, legacy to a godchild, legacies to his servants, legacies to the churchwardens of the parish for
164 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
the benefit of the poor, legacy to his executor, and all the rest to his wife and: her relative^ and with all his estates thus disposed of, not a single penny to his poor unfortunate son ! Had I but remained in Australia, this would have been spared me; and you, my dear wife, would not by this time have had the agony of being likely to be destitute."
" Do not grieve, Thomas, about things which are past and cannot be helped. If wrong has been done you by any self-interested person, it will not be long before a righteous God will call him to account. But it is best for us, my dear, to look upon the matter as an accidental misfor- tune, to which all men are liable; and let us treat it as such. We now know the worst ; we must build upon our own future exertions. I must endeavour to get the girls into some res- pectable house of employment, and we must live as closely as we can. You have still the pension
THE SOLDIER S WIFE.
of a British soldier, and I see no occasion ttf despair. God tempers the wind to the shorn; lamb. We may meet with friends, we are now; not so badly off as thousands ; and, if I could but see you a little more cheerful and more thankful, I should be happy."
Let even a tender wife eay what she will, let prudence talk with propriety, let reflection, and argument, and strength >of resolution be sum- moned, nothing but faith in religion can support disappointment. A son who had never offended a father — a son who had honoured him with all the respect due to him — to whom he had ever manifested the utmost affection — to be cut off without a penny, and to find himself forgotten, must feel keenly, so keenly that nothing but a dependance upon God, nothing but a Christian faith which rises superior to all earthly conside- rations, can enable him to bear the pang.. But
166 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
faith can endure such and far worse misfortunes, and leave them all behind as so many momentary troubles, not worthy of a single regret.
The good wife applied herself diligently to the task of duty before her. Hewitt had occa- sionally a call to some easy duty, and the children were industrious to earn something for their support. Our heroine applied to one of the most respectable houses in Norwich. She had an interview with Mrs. Taylor, the stay- maker, of Upper St. Giles Street. She very properly demurred for a long time as to the reception of the daughters into her establish- ment, because she had no recommendations of weight with them. The very urgent and re- peated prayers of the mother and daughters united, at last prevailed. This kind-hearted woman was touched with their earnest solicita- tions, and her letter to the author of these pages,
THE SOLDIER S WIFE.
in answer to his inquiries as to their respecta- bility, is very satisfactory to him, and he humbly hopes it may prove acceptable to the public, as another proof of the worthiness of those for whom he has thus ventured to claim public sympathy.
" 13, Upper St. Giles, St. Norwich , " Jan. 2, 1846.
"Sir,
" In answer to your inquiry of this morning, respecting the two daughters of Mrs. Hewitt, I am very happy in being able to bear testimony to their good conduct during the two years and a half they have been in my work-room.
' ' I must observe that they came under my notice without any recommendation, and it was only the persevering application of the mother and daughters united, that induced me to receive them as workwomen at all, they being quite
168 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
unknown to me ; but I am happy to say, I have not to regret accepting their services. " I am,
" Sir,
" YOUTHS very respectfully,
"ELIZABETH TAYLOR.
"To " The Rev. Richard Cobbold."
They worked hard, as all sempstresses must do, to earn bread. It takes a great many scratches of a pen even to write this nar- rative, and, whilst thousands are asleep, the author, whose time is constantly occupied by various duties in the day, steals from the night some hours of sweet labour for the benefit, he hopes, of others. But what are his labours compared to those of too many poor females, who, for the fashionable demands of the ladies of the land, have to work sometimes night and
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 169
day. Stitch after stitch, stitch after stitch, with- out cessation ; thousands, thousands, still thou- sands of thousands of stitches; ay, neatly, carefully, accurately done, or all must be done over again, or somebody else must do it, and after all, to carry home a small pittance for a broken-down father and a weary mother !
Oh, reader, how happy we ought to feel that some cheerfulness of conversation, some inte- resting narrative, or, it may be, some instructive lesson in poetry or prose, can enliven the tedious hours of a work-room, where active fingers stitch away for days, weeks, months and years, with only a cessation on the Sabbath ; that blessed day of rest to thousands who otherwise would wear hands and heads to pieces in a very short time. As boys or girls in a school are inte- rested in each other, so are the workwomen in one room, in each other's welfare ; and, were it not for the natural liveliness of spirit with which
VOL. III. I
170 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
God has blessed the female portion of his creation, many of these poor creatures, who work till their heads, hands, and sides ache, would, as alas ! they too often do, sink under their incessant labour.
Not all their labour of love, however, could remove the disorder which was gaining ground upon the heart and constitution of Hewitt. He was very fond of his children, delighted to see them go out in the morning, hasten home at noon, and come in again at night. He was proud of them also, took infinite pleasure in their society, and made them keep up their reading, and their domestic duties. But with all their work, they had a hard struggle. How hard, God only knew ; but they did not flinch. Yet they could not help observing the gradual decline of their parent, whose constitution, from various causes, began seriously to change.
The will was frequently his only topic of
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 171
sorrow with his wife. " I think, my dear," he would say, " that if the Marquis of Douro knew exactly my state, he might get me some light appointment under government, to ease us all in our affliction. My father's will is so unac- countably indifferent to me, so unlike himself towards me, that I never can or will believe that his intentions were to leave me penniless."
"That, most likely, he did not intend; but why should you afflict yourself with these useless thoughts upon things you cannot alter. I think, perhaps, the Marquis of Douro might be enabled to do something for you; but I do not think your health would stand much fatigue. It is better for you to rest quietly and let us work willingly for you. We are happy in so doing, and I am sure our daughters apply themselves diligently to the task; and we are blessed in our children."
" Ah ! my dear, I grieve not to be in a better
172 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
position for them. I cannot bear to see you all working for me, when I ought to be earning something for you."
"You have earned it, my dear, and dearly too. Your seven shillings weekly, is a constant earning, with no loss for bad weather. So do not accuse yourself of neglect."
" I do accuse myself of not exerting my powers to obtain some situation which would somewhat improve my condition ; and, if I live a month longer, I will certainly draw up a petition to the Marquis of Douro, and get it authenticated by some gentlemen who know my case. But if I must close my career without any help, then God's will be done ! I must be content to do as the good landlord of N — says, ' Commend you and my children to God, and leave the issue of all things to His wise disposal/ }i
" That you should always do, let your successes, or misfortunes in life be what they may. Only
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 173
remember how often you have inculcated better lessons than I can give you upon your comrades. Our dear old friend, Dan Long, would have returned cent per cent for your instructions, and Leonard would have cheered us in our affliction. But think, dear husband, how thankful and how satisfied we should be under the dispensations of God, wise as they undoubtedly are, and good as they are to us at this moment. Our sons are in the army, our daughters are in a most respect- able house; all are dutiful and affectionate towards us, and we should feel satisfied and con- tented. You may write a petition to our member, but I fear you will make but a sorry petitioner, and not be the more satisfied after- wards. Come, my dear, let us put our trust in Him, who has covered our heads in the day of battle, and affords us the present peace, which is good for us in affliction."
In such strain did our heroine frequently
174 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
converse with her sick husband, whose declining health made all his affections for his family more lively, while, at the same time, it convinced him that his own strength was fast failing him.
He received his children, when they returned from their labours, with more than common fondness and interest ; always counted on their return, and, though his increasing feebleness pre- vented him from holding much lively conversa- tion, yet he would always perform the last act of family devotion, and give them his blessing.
He would never keep his bed, though his weakness daily increased upon him. He would walk out as long as he was able. He would walk down to the Market-Place, ascend the Castle Hill, and stand seemingly lost in medita- tion, looking over the city and the distant hills. The air did him good, as long as he could enjoy it, and his soldier spirit loved to walk in that airy spot, so well calculated to fill a mind like
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 175
his with pious thoughts. Nor did the soldier forget his prayers. They were offered up from that spot, as he used to tell his wife, with perfect charity to all, and in humble thankfulness for past mercies. On the Sabbath, he and his family always attended the cathedral service, and, in the evening, they enjoyed their father's con- versation upon what they heard in the day.
It was after his last walk upon the Castle Hill, that Hewitt returned with more than usual cheerfulness. He talked a long time with his wife upon the history of Norwich, its various changes, sicknesses, distresses, and rebellions; its great men in every department, ecclesiastical, civil, naval, military, and scientific; and astonished her with such an effusion of memory, of all that he had read, that she was at a loss to conceive how he could have retained such knowledge. But he appeared much better that day than he had done for some time, and in the evening he
176 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
resolved to draw up a memorial to one of the members for Norwich.
That address was never completed; what he wrote that night, now lies in his own hand- writing before the author ; and, as it speaks the calmness of the man's mind, and contains the last words the brave fellow ever wrote, it may not prove unacceptable to those readers who have taken an interest in this narrative. It is therefore given verbatim.
"TO THE MARQUIS OF DOURO.
" Most noble Lord,
" The writer of this memorial is an old soldier, who has spent his best years in the service of his country; and who has been, from a sad reverse of fortune, proceeding from circumstances which he had no control over, reduced to great distress.
" He begs leave to state to your Lordship that
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 177
nothing but the greatest distress of body and mind, could have induced him to take the great liberty of addressing himself to one of your exalted rank.
"Your memorialist states that he served in the Egyptian army, under Sir Ralph Aber- crombie, and in ten general actions under his Grace the Duke of Wellington, during the Peninsular war; and that his wife was present with him during the whole of that war, and at different periods, during the time she was servant to General Hamilton, had the pleasure of waiting upon his Grace your father, and that at other times she was employed in the care of different wounded officers, particularly Colonel Erskine, who was wounded at the storming of Badajos, and Colonel White, wounded at the battle of Pamplona ;* and that she is the mother of seven
* This is the only discrepancy in the account. In the foregoing part of the narrative, it is stated that it was at Vit-
i 3
178 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
sons, born in the 48th. Five died in that regi- ment, and two are now serving her Majesty.
" Your memorialist further states that he was finally discharged from the army in 1823, with a pension of Is. \\d. per diem. That, being the only son of a gentleman of independent property,
(T — H — Esq., who resided at N in this
county) a gentleman, my Lord, who was well known to our two Members of Parliament for West Norfolk, and also to Mr. Wodehouse for the East, whose principles my father has ever supported with his whole interest. That upon my being discharged as before stated, my father allowed me £30 a year to assist me in bringing up my family, with the constant assurance that it should be continued for my life ; but, since his death, which took place now three years ago, I have been entirely deprived of that
toria that Colonel White was wounded. Could it be at both ? — AUTHOR.
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 179
assistance by his executors. And, as the will which has been produced and sworn to, was made and signed twenty years back, when I was serving with my regiment near Botany Bay; and at that period, from my having no commu- nication with him, was supposed to be dead, my name is not mentioned in the will, nor is there the least chance of my ever getting one penny from those good people, who now have nis property.
" Thus, my Lord, is an honest man, who has been brought up under the stern but wholesome discipline of a long war — for I ran away from school, and enlisted into the 48th at twelve years of age — by one stroke of bad fortune, deprived of the means of bringing up his family, and what makes my case almost too hard for human" —
And here the petition leaves off, either as if
180 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
the soldier wanted courage to ask of the great General's son, the required assistance, or had not nerve sufficient to finish the most afflicting portion of his prayer. It comprehends, however, the brief summary of these pages, and, to a soldier's heart, will speak more forcibly, perhaps, than anything else which the author may have narrated.
From too great exertion, probably of both mind and body, he was compelled to postpone the finishing of his petition. He complained of lassitude, and retired early to bed. Filled with the thoughts of what he had been writing, or with some presentiment of his coming end, he spent a very restless night, frequently rising up, and continuing in prayer and watchfulness, saying that he heard sweet music, far superior to the festival's most harmonious band.
( ' My petition, my dear, will be of no avail ; I do not think I shall live to get it -presented.
THE SOLDIEB/S WIFE. 181
I hope God will take care of you, I pray for you, and for our children, and for all men. I am thankful, very thankful, that I rest in peace."
Towards the dawn, the poor fellow sank into a soft slumber, and his wife and children did not awake him in the morning. His daughters went to their work at their usual hour, little thinking they should never see their father alive again. His wife was seated in the room below, filled with many an anxious thought about a husband whom she had reason to look up to and love, for his devotion to herself, in sickness and in health, in joy and in sorrow.
She was surprised to hear him getting up, for she knew, from his general character, that he was a man who seldom uttered what he felt, without the full consciousness of its certainty, and she thought he would keep his bed. He came down stairs, looking very pale and very composed; but there was a spirit within him,
182 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON.
moving his poor weak body strangely, and preparing its wings to quit its frail, changing tenement, and to fly away. His countenance was benign, as he sat down in his arm chair, looking first at his wife with love, and then at the clock with anxiety. Time was no more for him !
" I wish the girls would come home, my dear ; I cannot think what makes them so late to-night! (though it was then but ten o'clock in the morning) I wish to see them, and to bless them." He put forth his hand, lifted up his head, which fell back upon his chair, and the soldier's spirit was gone, leaving all his domestic anxieties for ever!
THE SOLDIER'S WIDOW.
THE SOLDIER'S WIDOW.
CHAPTER X.
THE WIDOW.
SELDOM do rich widows see performed the last duties to the remains of their husbands. It is not the fashion. The funeral service is not for them, though its consolations may be great to all who cherish the spirit of devotion with which it was written. It is for poor women to follow to the grave their lamented friends,
186 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
and to see that the last ceremony be decently performed. There are exceptions even to the general prevalence of fashion in this respect, and noble women have thought it their duty, not- withstanding the force of custom, to break through that unfeeling habit of disrespect by which common nature and common decency are too often set at defiance.
A long train of mourning coaches, horses and hearse, with nodding plumes, all conducted with such punctilious ceremony that the undertaker prides himself upon its imposing effect upon the public; coachmen in cloaks, and outriders with sweeping hatbands, passing, it may be, through the gayest part of the metropolis ; the physician, clergyman, surgeon, lawyer, perchance the heir- at-law, or one or two male relations; with one coach full of domestics, male and female, form the usual demonstration of mourning for a great man. But the partner, the daughters, the
THE SOLDIER'S WIDOW. 187
dearest friends of the deceased, see the funeral depart ; and, when the grave is closed over the remains, and a handsome tomb is erected, they may then visit the spot.
In a little country village, and among decent poor people, the widow thinks it her duty to see her lord and master placed in the grave, and to join in prayer to God that when she shall depart this life, she may rest in the same hope as he does. Thank God, none are doomed to perform any act of self-immolation at their husband's funerals, as among the deluded, superstitious Hindoos; nor does the writer of these pages ever wish to see the mourner, heartwrung with wretchedness, at the grave of her relative. He has seen funerals of all classes, and, though he detests pomp at such times, yet he honours and respects the motive which prompts the survivors to pay the last sad tribute at the grave
188 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
of those they loved, and he writes these sentences for their consolation.
Our heroine, now the soldier's widow, parted with many little things to see her husband decently interred. She and her daughters, and her son in the Coldstream Guards, with such few friends as respected him whilst he was alive, followed him with mournful hearts to his silent grave, in the parish of St. Martin's, Palace Plains, in the City of Norwich, and returned to their humble dwelling to speak of their bereave- ment, to talk over his memory, and of the thousand good things which he had done in his life. But what now must the widow do ? She found her eyes growing dim before the usual period of their obscurity; and she was unable to do as she had used. Either from early care and fatigue in the following her husband to the wars, or from witnessing with sorrow his misfor-
THE SOLDIER'S WIDOW. 189
tunes, she found that her eyes would not allow of the same exertion as formerly. The very bible print began to be indistinct before her, and though with a very strong light she could, by great effort, make out the words, yet for the most part they began to present such a mingled appearance, that she was compelled to wait till her daughters could find time to read to her.
She never forgot her duty of prayer, nor her accustomed attention to cleanliness. Her house was put in order; her daughters were .her comfort, and all they could do to alleviate her sufferings, they most affectionately performed. But when the few things which a poor widow has, are parted with, and the bills for her husband's funeral, and her own and her daugh- ters' plain black gowns, are paid, there re- mains but a small surplus, if any, to provide bread for the week.
190 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
The wolf now stared her in the face more fiercely than in the days of desolation in Spain. Poverty is a hungry wolf — ever craving, and feeding most cruelly upon those who are sur- rounded with nothing but cares, vexations, and distresses. His famished jaws look as if they would devour anything; and truly, he stared at the soldier's widow as if he would destroy her. But she put her trust in God, and was not totally forsaken.
Her pension was gone, and she had nothing now but the exertions of her two industrious daughters to depend upon for "her support. Her youngest child was unable to earn anything. She was admitted into the infant-school in the parish, and was very kindly treated by the Rev. Mr. Day. As if her cup of sorrow, however, was not yet full, her eldest daughter was taken ill, and she was thus deprived of her strongest arm. Her landlord, the keeper
THE SOLDIER'S WIDOW. 191
of the Ten Bells, who had known her so long, was very kind to her, and so was his wife; and, but for them, the poor widow would have sunk under her depressing circumstances. Mr. Yarrington was a very good friend to her, and interested himself in her behalf. But, after a time, these friends, who could only afford temporary relief, seriously advised her to make application to the Board of Guardians, and her landlord spoke to the Relieving Officer in her behalf.
"You must," he said to her, "make appli- cation to the Board. However unpleasant it may be to you, there is no other resource for you in your affliction. I have given your name to the Relieving Officer, and he will bring it before the Board."
A Board of Guardians, though the name is such a friendly, fatherly, protecting designation for men to bear, is a formidable body for any
192 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
poor man to stand before. Guardians ! — guar- dians of the poor ! — guardians of the parish ! — guardians of the Union ! assembled on a Board- day, at a long table, exhibit a very imposing aspect for a trembling man, woman, or child to behold.
" Must I go myself, Sir ?" said the widow. "Do they require me personally to state all the circumstances of my misfortunes, before I can obtain relief? Could not you go for me? They would listen to you. I wish I could be spared this trial \"
" It is especially required, if you can go, that you should appear in person. You have no great distance to go, and our board is com- posed of some of the most intelligent men in the city : you need not be afraid."
The widow sighed. She sighed to think that she must be reduced to this necessity ! Yet, she thought of her children. She had now
THE SOLDIER'S WIDOW. 193
no pension — no allowance — no means of earning anything. She thought of her husband's career — of her double loss; and resolved to attend at the stated time, before the Guardians of the Union in which she resided.
She had but a short distance to go, compared with that which poor people in large country Unions have to travel. Who has not seen aged females tramping through the mire and snow, through wind and rain, in the bleakest weather, to apply to the Board of Guardians for relief ? There they sit, in one common room, with wet shoes and stockings, and clothes drenched through, await- ing the summons of the officer to go before the Board. It is true some do not heed it, for there are people who can feel no degra- dation; but there is no shame in an honest" man's sorrow, at being compelled to stand before such a tribunal. The liberal inventors of the New Poor Law think that there is no
VOL. III. K
194 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
kind of hardship whatever, in poor people coming before the Board. Let but Heaven reduce any of them to the necessity of having to make the trial, and they will most wofully feel the hardship.
There are many most excellent men among those composing these Boards : in general, men of education and business habits, are selected for chairmen, and very often the best men in a parish are nominated as guardians ; but the poor law they administer is, even by the very best Boards, acknowledged to be too severe. This is not the place to discuss the merits of that law, upon the administration of which, in mercy or severity, must depend the well-being or misery of the poor. The subject is mentioned to shew that the Board is not, and cannot be otherwise, than a formidable body for poor men to apply to for relief.
In country parishes, who are the adminis-
THE SOLDIER'S WIDOW. 195
trators of this law, but men for the most part deeply interested in keeping down the relief as low as they can ! And the law gives them a very powerful arm to do so. Can any one be surprised that they should exercise it? The surprise would be, that they did not.
But our heroine was reduced to the necessity, and she went; she had no alternative, but to starve or do so. She sat down amidst nume- rous applicants, till she was called in to the Board-room. She entered, with a heart beating violently, and limbs trembling till they knocked one against the other ; and yet, as she entered, every eye beheld a tall, straight person, in deep mourning, with a countenance that spoke much sorrow j but with an air of past independence, that seemed now to say, indeed, " The wolf terrifies me."
"Walk up here, Mrs. Hewitt/' said a voice
K 2
196 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
from the chair. " What is your application here to-day ?"
The poor woman stood before the Chairman, Vice-Chairman, and a numerous body of Guar- dians, the Clerk of the Board, the Relieving Officers, and the Governor of the House, and had to answer publicly any question which any man there present chose to put to her.
Severe, sometimes, are the cross-examinations which an applicant has to undergo; and, not always in the gentlest terms ; for there sit, too often, accuser, judge, and jury, and the poor man has but little chance of escaping the utmost rigour of the law. Such, however, was not in reality the case with the Board before whom the soldier's widow stood, though, to her terrified vision, it might appear as if she stood before them like a criminal.
"What is your name? Where do you live?
THE SOLDIER S WIDOW.
197
What age are you ? How many children have you ? What are your earnings ? What do your children earn ? How long have you been a widow? Have you any pension? Have you no means of subsistence ? Are you able-bodied ? Have you no friends? What parish did your husband belong to? How come you to be so reduced ? Cannot you do something for a liveli- hood ? Are you quite destitute ?"
To all these questions our heroine made suitable and satisfactory replies; and narrated to the Board the simple account of her past life, who she was, what her husband was, and how he had died from disappoint- ment and grief, at being unable to maintain her and her family, concluding with these words :
" I have been in most of the Peninsular battles, with my husband, and have stood with the soldiers of my country in the face of England's
198 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON, •
bitterest and most formidable enemies, but I never knew what fear was till this moment." " Just go to the door a minute, Mrs. Hewitt." And our heroine departed, every eye following her, as she walked erect and firmly from the Board-room.
"This is a most extraordinary woman," said the Chairman, "and her history is very remarkable. I have heard, gentlemen, some- thing of her circumstances before, though the woman was personally unknown to me. I have no reason whatever to doubt the facts that she states, and I think some interest should be made, to get her case reported to the government. If we could find some one to report to her Majesty the condition she is now in, I feel persuaded some relief might be obtained for her. A memorial should be drawn up, either by the civic authorities, or by the woman herself, and attested by some credible
THE SOLDIER'S WIDOW. 199
witnesses. At all events, the woman is now destitute. Every widow should support one child, if able-bodied; but in this case, I think there are some peculiarities which render her a proper subject for the exercise of that privilege which we possess, of administering out-door relief. The daughters are of very good character, and are working at a very respectable house. The mother and child might be relieved out- door, and, in the mean time, I will represent her case to some influential gentlemen, and see if any thing can be done for her. What relief shall be given ?"
One suggested a shilling, and a stone of flour ; another, two and sixpence ; another, two shillings for the widow, and one shilling for the daughter.
"Well, suppose we allow three shillings per week for the present ?"
And so it was agreed.
" Call her in."
200 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
"Mrs. Hewitt, the Board have taken your case into consideration. They have been much struck with the account you have given them of your adventures, hardships, and dangers, and they think that if you were to memorialize Her Majesty, or make application to the Government, something would be done for you. The law does not allow us to do more for you, than to grant you three shillings per week; but I will not fail to represent your case to some friends, who, perhaps, may be of service to you."
The widow curtsied to the Chairman and the Board, thanked them for their commise- ration, and returned to her habitation in Bell Lane, less terrified than when she left it.
In the mean time, her case was talked of in the city ; exaggerated accounts got into the papers, and her sons saw in the London journals a long and erroneous report of their
THE SOLDIER'S WIDOW. 201
mother's life. She was persuaded, however, to apply to Her Majesty, and to the Queen Dowager, and to the Duke of Wellington. She did so by memorial, and, after strict inquiry into her case, both among the magistracy and civic authorities, the result was favourable to her application, and, with characteristic honesty, she informed the Relieving-Officer of the assistance she had received, and gave up the relief from the Board.
As the widow gave the author of her history the names of the magistrates through whom she received the relief, he trusts it will not be considered improper to give, in this place, the authenticated proofs of the accuracy of these statements, for which he applied to those gen- tlemen, and to whom he takes this public opportunity of tendering his sincere acknow- ledgments*
K 3
202 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
The first is from Sir William Foster, Bart., late Mayor of Norwich.
"Dear Sir,
"I am no longer Mayor of Norwich; but with regard to Mrs. Hewitt, I believe her to be a very respectable woman. The Queen Dow- ager last year sent her five pounds. I tried to get a pension for her, but failed. I think it a case in which the Government, or Royal Family, should do something. The woman's husband and all her sons, served in the army.
"Tour's faithfully,
"WM. FOSTER.
" Norwich, 6th of Jan., 1846. " To the Rev. Richard Cobbold."
The next is from the Rev. J. D. Borton, one of the magistrates of the county.
THE SOLDIER'S WIDOW. 203
" Blofield,
" Jan., 8, 1846.
" My dear Sir,
" I have, for the two last days, been acciden- tally prevented replying to your inquiry res- pecting Mrs. Hewitt.
"About eighteen months ago, I received a letter from a friend at the Horse-Guards, in- closing a memorial .she had sent to the Duke of Wellington, and requesting that I would make what inquiry I could, as to the truth of the particulars therein stated. I took, there- fore, the earliest opportunity of so doing, and had reason to think that her main statement was correct. I saw the certificate of her mar- riage at a very early age at Gibraltar, and others relating to her husband ; with the medal
204 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
he had received for ten general actions, in which he had been engaged.
" I heard also that she was a person of respectable character, and that her daughters had been well brought up, and were well-con- ducted girls. Her sons had all been in the army, and two of them were still living, one in the Coldstream Guards.
" In consequence of this report, I received, soon after, a request that I would draw on Cox and Co. for £5, and give it to her. This, I believe, was from the Duke's private purse, there being no public fund of any kind for soldiers' widows.
"After this, I received a request from the Secretary of the Privy Purse for information respecting her, and the result was £3 more.
" Since that time, I have not heard from or of her, until your application respect-
THE SOLDIER'S WIDOW. 205
ing her; and I fear this will not add much to your previous store of information. " Believe me,
" My dear Sir,
" Tour's very truly,
" J. D. BOBTON.
" To the Rev. R. Cobbold."
The letters on behalf of Her Majesty and the Queen Dowager, are as follows :
" St. James's Palace,
" May 30, 1845.
" Madam,
"I am directed by Sir Henry Wheatly, to acquaint you that he is honoured with the Queen's commands to forward the enclosed Post- Office order, as a donation from her Majesty, with the expression of her Majesty's regret, that the claims upon her Majesty's private
206 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
bounty are so numerous, they preclude any larger grant.
" I have the honour to be,
" Madam, " Your obedient servant,
"WlLBRAHAM TAYLOR.
" To Mrs. Mary Hewitt, Norwich."
" Marlborough House, Dec. 21, 1844. " Madam,
"The Queen Dowager, having taken into consideration a memorial which has been ad- dressed to Her Majesty, praying her assistance towards relieving your pecuniary difficulties, has commanded me to send you five pounds, as her Majesty's contribution.
" I have the honour to be,
" Madam, " Your obedient humble servant,
"WILLIAM ASHLEY.
" To Mrs. Hewitt."
THE SOLDIER'S WIDOW. 207
These donations for a time greatly assisted the soldier's widow, but they could not provide for her beyond a certain time, at the expiration of which period, she had to apply again to the Board, and reported her success. She was then told that there had been no intention of taking any advantage of the private charity she had received, and, immediately upon her application, the three shillings were again allowed, and have been continued up to the present time.
But the reader may exclaim, how came the author acquainted with her history, and to take such interest in it as to give it to the public ? Let the reader form his own judgment of the matter. The courage of an individual, who thought the extraordinary history of the woman worthy of notice, has led to the present publica- tion ; and, if the reader has been entertained with it, he will pardon all the minor faults of detail. The then Ex-Mayor of Norwich, Wm. Freeman
208 MARY ANNE WELLINGTON,
Esq., addressed the author in the following terms, in which he made no flattering allusions to his genius, &c. &c., to induce him to undertake the task ; but the very brevity of the letter, and the simplicity of the statement induced him to do as the dictates of humanity seemed to point out, and he will be happy if his work satisfies public expectation, and does but benefit the widow.
Norwich, 30th August, 1845. " Rev. Sir,
" I enclose the memorial of a woman, whose life I think would make an interesting volume, if you would see her and hear her statements. Her address is Ten Bell Lane, Pottergate Street just below St. Giles's Church, in this city.
" I remain, your^s respectfully,
"WM. FREEMAN, " Magistrate.
" Guildhall. " To the Rev. — Cobbold."
THE SOLDIER'S WIDOW. 209
The reader may wish to know how it is that the Queen Dowager has so graciously accepted the de-