Title:  Quintus Servinton
        A Tale founded upon Incidents of Real Occurence
Author: Henry Savery
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eBook No.: 0700971.txt
Language:  English
Date first posted: Aug 2007
Date most recently updated: Aug 2007

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Title: Quintus Servinton
       A Tale founded upon Incidents of Real Occurence
Author: Henry Savery


First Published: 1830

Prepared from the print edition published by
The Jacaranda Press
Brisbane and Melbourne 1962


This edition Dedicated to
DR E. MORRIS MILLER
with grateful acknowledgments




CONTENTS


Preface
Bibliography
Biographical Introduction

QUINTUS SERVINTON

VOLUME ONE

PREFACE
INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XII

VOLUME TWO

CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X

VOLUME THREE

CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XII
CHAPTER XIII

CONCLUSION



Preface


The original edition of _Quintus Servinton_ is extremely rare,
only three copies being listed in Ferguson's _Bibliography._ These
are held by Dr. W. Crowther, the Mitchell Library, and the Public
Library of Tasmania. This reprint follows the text of the original in
all its vagaries of style, spelling, and punctuation. The only
modifications made are corrections of a few obvious misprints;
_ot,_ for instance, has been silently changed to _to._
Students and others interested in our literature now have ready access
to the text of the first Australian novel as printed just over a
hundred and thirty years ago.

Any student who works in the field of early Tasmanian printing,
especially where Henry Savery is concerned, is essentially dependent on
the pioneer work of Dr. E. Morris Miller. My own debt to him, as writer
and man, is very considerable, and I most gratefully acknowledge it.
This reprint is by his permission dedicated to him.

Other Tasmanians to whom my warm thanks are due are Dr. W. Crowther,
Dr. C. Craig, Mr. E. R. Pretyman, and the officers of the State Library
of Tasmania and the Tasmanian Archives--Messrs. B. W. Wray, P.
Eldershaw, G. Stilwell, and Miss M. Milne.

The officers of the Mitchell Library have most willingly given that
help to which students have been so long accustomed; the Trustees of
the State Library of Victoria have granted permission to make use of
four Savery letters in the Calder Papers; the National Library at
Canberra has provided on inter-library loan its microfilms of early
issues of _The Times_ (London); the officers of the University of
Queensland Library--and here I must especially thank Mr. Spencer
Routh--have helped me in various ways with cheerful readiness.

Dr. Russel Ward of Armidale has generously drawn on his unrivalled
stores to answer certain queries; Sir J. A. Ferguson graciously allowed
me access to a rare edition of _The Newgate Calendar_ in his
possession; and I am grateful to Professor A. C. Cawley for a patient
reading of the biographical introduction.

Overseas help has come from Mr. W. S. Haugh, City Librarian of
Bristol, whose unworried competence and long patience have saved me
weeks of work. To Mr. F. L. Hill of Paignton, Devon, a special debt is
due for his kindness in providing a transcript of certain parts of Mary
Wise Savery Hawkins's copy of the John Savery genealogical manuscript.
The editors of the _Western Morning News_ (Plymouth) and the
_Western Times and Gazette_ (Exeter) were kind enough to publish
in their columns letters requesting information.

Both editor and publisher are grateful to the Mitchell Library for
permission to use a microfilm of its copy for the preparation of this
reprint.

I have, finally, to thank the Senate of the University of Queensland
for granting me research funds for work on this project.

--C.H.



Bibliography


An early work on the colonial printers is James Bonwick: _Early
Struggles of the Australian Press_ (London, 1890). The standard work
is E. Morris Miller: _Pressmen and Governors_ (Sydney, 1952). With
it should be mentioned Miller's pamphlet, which deals with both Savery
and Mary Grimstone: _Australia's First Two Novels_ (Hobart,
1958).

Other books of more general interest that deal incidentally with
Savery are the _Tasmanian Journal of Natural Science_ (Hobart,
1842); J. West: _History of Tasmania (2v.,_ Launceston, 1852);
_The Australian Encyclopedia_ (10v., Sydney, 1958); Charles
Bateson: _The Convict Ships_ (Glasgow, 1959).

The great authoritative bibliography is J. A. Ferguson:
_Bibliography of Australia_ (4v. to date, Sydney, 1941-55).

Contemporary sources are the English newspapers: _The Times_
(London), the _Bristol Gazette and Public Advertiser;_ and the
Tasmanian newspapers and periodicals: the _Hobart Town Gazette,_
the _Colonial Times,_ the _Tasmanian,_ the _Hobart Town
Courier,_ the _Van Diemen's Land Almanack,_ the
_Colonist,_ the _Tasmanian and Austral-Asiatic Review._ Some
correspondence concerning Savery is reprinted in the _Historical
Records of Australia_ (series iii, vols. v and vi).

The relevant historical documents of the period come from the normal
sources: _The Tasmanian Papers_ (and _The Arthur Papers)_
held in the Mitchell Library, Sydney; _Great Britain and Ireland_
(Home Office, Colonial Office, Navy); some Savery letters (Dr. C.
Craig, Launceston; Dr. W. Crowther, Hobart; the Calder papers, State
Library of Victoria). The State Library of Tasmania has a card index of
the Savery references that are held in its Archives. Mr. F. L. Hill of
Paignton. Devon, holds the John Savery manuscript transmitted to Mary
Wise Savery Hawkins.



Biographical Introduction


In August 1934 there died in a mental hospital, at an advanced age,
Mary Wise Savery Hawkins, penniless and without ascertainable
relatives. She had spent, so it was reported, many years of her life
and all her resources in trying to prove descent from Sir John Hawkins
of Plymouth, the Elizabethan sea-dog.

Among her papers was a document, dated July 24th, 1809, by one John
Savery, from whom Mary Hawkins was apparently descended. This
manuscript, running to some 180 pages, is John Savery's history of his
family from 1501 to 1809. Among the early pages occurs the following
passage:

Stephen Savery, eldest Son, and Heir apparent, of the last named
Christopher, in the year 1563, married Johanna de Servington; Daughter,
and Coheiress of John de Servington, Esquire, of Tavistock, in the
County of Devon.

The Family of Servington was of considerable Antiquity, and
Consequence, for John de Servington's Ancestor, William de Servington,
I find did Twice serve the Office of Sheriff for the County of Devon,
in the time of Edward the third to wit in the year 1366 and 1367; being
the 40th and 41st of his Reign.

He bore Arms--Erming--a Chevron Azure--charged with
three Buck's Heads Cabossd Or--Crest Service Tree, growing out of
a Tun. Note--These Arms have, ever since, been us'd with my Family
Arms And also the Crest generally, See Antiquities of Exeter, by Isaac,
Printed in 1724.

There was another Branch of the Family of De Servington or
Servington, settled at Mageston, in the County of Dorset, and, by an
Inquisition, taken the 14th of Henry the Eighth it was found that
William Servington died seized of the Manor of Whatley, near Froom in
the County of Somerset; which he held of the Abbot of Glastonbury and
that Nicholas Servington was his Son; and then Nine years of Age.

In the South Aile in Whatley Church, on a rais'd Tomb; lies the Effigy
of a Knight in Armour; Cross Legg'd, and Spurr'd--His Hands are in a
suppliant posture; close to his Breast.--On the Arm is a Shield whereon
is a Chevron, charged with three Bucks Heads caboss'd.--This Effigy was
one of the Family of Servington.--I have been thus particular as my
Family are descended from this Family; and have continued the Name as a
Christian name prefixt to that of Savery; in every Generation to this
time.

It is to this connection with the Servingtons that the title of this
novel by Henry Savery is due--_Quintus Servinton._

More important is the fact that John Savery gives the dates of birth
of his numerous offspring, among them Henry Savery.

The date of his birth formerly accepted was 1794. The evidence for
this was probably a Register of Burials conducted by the Wesleyan
Church, Port Arthur, which has an entry (February 8, 1842) for Henry
Savery: "aged 48 years." Different evidence appears in contemporary
newspaper accounts of his trial (April 1825), which give thirty-three
as his age at that time. This would make his year of birth 1792. His
official description in the Tasmanian convict records also gives
thirty-three. Such an official description derives from the English
prison record, which normally preceded any prisoner transferred from
prison to the hulks in the Thames, and which then accompanied him on
the voyage out to Tasmania or New South Wales. By the 1820's this
procedure, formerly theoretical but often not actual, had become the
practice.

This means that in April 1825 Henry Savery was thirty-three years
old. But the month remains significant; for if he was born in a later
month then he would turn thirty-four in 1825, and this would indicate
1791 as his year of birth.

This is in fact the year given by John Savery in his list of
children. Henry Savery is there stated to have been born August 4,
1791.

There remains, however, a point to be checked. Is this John Savery
the father of Henry Savery the novelist, or of some other Henry? John
Savery in his manuscript history states that he himself was the eldest
son of John Savery and Sarah Prideaux, and was born April 21, 1747. Now
it is well established that the father of Henry Savery the novelist was
a noted Bristol banker of the firm of Savery, Towgood, Yerbury, and
Towgood, Wine Street. Newspaper reports always call the father Mr.
Savery, but do not give his Christian name. However, _A History of
Banking in Bristol_ by C. H. Cave gives this information:

John Savery, who remained in the Bank until business was given up in
1828, was a member of a very old Devonshire family. He was eldest son
of John Savery, of Shilston House, near Modbury, Devon, by his wife
Sarah, daughter of Walter Prideaux, of Dartmouth: was born in
1747...

This seems conclusive. The John Savery who wrote the history of his
family was the Bristol banker, and his son was Henry, the future
novelist. And Henry Savery was born August 4, 1791. His place of birth
was Butcombe Court, Butcombe, Somerset.

Henry was the sixth son. But as the second son, Servington, died
three days after birth, Henry probably considered himself the fifth.
Hence the _Quintus_ in _Quintus Servinton._

Not much is known of Savery's life until after 1824. Though we now
know when he was born and where he was born, we still do not know where
he spent his childhood years. As for his schooldays, Morris Miller,
using hints from _Quintus Servinton,_ very plausibly conjectures
that he was educated at Oswestry Grammar School, where he received a
classical and commercial training that showed itself both for better
and for worse in his life and his writings.

It is possible that his early manhood was spent in London and that
there, probably in 1815, he married Eliza Elliott Oliver, whose father,
William Elliott Oliver, was a business man of Blackfriars, London. In
this year or a little later Savery and his wife moved to the West of
England, where for some years they lived at Stapleton, a few miles from
Bristol. Their son, Henry Oliver, was born on June 30, 1816.

Savery engaged in business in Bristol, but even here there is
uncertainty in dates and occupations. His father, John Savery, as
mentioned earlier, was a prominent member of a Bristol banking firm,
which continued in operation until 1828. It seems reasonable to suppose
that Henry was helped initially, and probably on later occasions, by
his father.

Records from contemporary newspapers and Matthews' _Bristol
Directory_ of the period indicate that from 1817 Savery, in
conjunction with a partner named Bigg, carried on the business of
sugar-refining--or, as it was called then, sugar-baking. This
shortly ran into trouble, and in 1819 Savery became bankrupt. _The
Times_ of London in its issue of September 1, 1819, reports under
its heading, Bankruptcies:

H. Savery, Bristol, sugar refiner, Sept. 13, 14, Oct. 12, at the
Commercial-rooms, Bristol: solicitor, Mr. Bigg, Southampton-buildings,
Chancery-lane.

Whether this Bigg was Savery's partner is not known; but if, as
seems certain, the word _solicitor_ in _The Times_ report has
the old meaning of _petitioner,_ then he probably was.

Oddly enough, this mishap does not seem to have curbed Savery's
activities. Gallop, in his _Chapters in the History of the Provincial
Press,_ states that in August, 1819, Henry Savery assumed the
editorship of the _Bristol Observer and Gloucester, Monmouth,
Somerset and Wiltshire Courier_ from John Sharp, who had printed it
for unnamed proprietors from the first number, August 7, 1817, until
his death on August 29, 1819. (The _Bristol Mercury_ for December
13, 1824, states that Savery had some family connection with a
proprietor of the _Observer.)_ While holding office as publisher,
Savery took over the business of a "West India and General Broker" and
marine insurance agent vacated by a Mr. West in Corn Street. On
September 9, 1819, an even more imposing sub-title was added to the
paper, and it was renamed the _Bristol Observer and Gloucester,
Somerset, Wiltshire, Monmouth, Brecon and Glamorgan Courier._
Savery's last issue was for February 13, 1822: a week later the name of
Henry Laurinson appeared in the imprint.

After this excursion Savery returned to his former business as
sugar-refiner in partnership with a Mr. Saward.

So far, then, Savery has engaged in a sugar business, which in about
two years becomes bankrupt. He next turns to publishing and insurance,
and abandons this business, by choice or constraint, two and a half
years later. This argues some innate instability or a notable
incompetence. The novel he was later to write suggests that he had
grandiose ideas, and over-extended the capacity of each firm that was
unlucky enough to have him as its guiding spirit.

Many men, one might imagine, would be extinguished emotionally and
financially by such reverses. But Savery is immediately back in
business as usual. Either he is abnormally resilient or else he
receives help each time. The latter possibility is suggested by a
remark in _The Times_ of December 20, 1824, in its report of
Savery's arrest, which occurred a week or so before that date:

Mr. Savery, the banker, had, unfortunately, on other occasions
before this, experienced the painful feelings which arose from filial
misconduct.

Savery's third venture was to prove no less unfortunate financially
than his first two. In its effects on Savery personally it was to prove
immeasurably more calamitous. Once again he proceeded to bite off more
than he could chew. He extended operations and entered into engagements
that the firm could not meet; but this time money from his father was
not to save him.

It was near the end of 1824 that the unstable man was to commit the
crowning folly of his life. The full details are complicated and
confused. Apparently he had, without the knowledge of his partner,
committed the firm beyond its resources. His vanity, we must suppose,
would not allow him to confess this indebtedness, so that he had for
about two years been negotiating bills with fictitious names and
addresses. These were commonly known as "kites," and Savery was under
the impression that they did not lay him open to the charge of forgery.
The monies that he procured by such means amounted in the end to between
£30,000 and £40,000, and the firm had assets covering about two-thirds
of the sum. The charge, when it was finally laid, though very lengthy
and elaborate in the legal fashion of the period, could be summed up in
these terms: that he had feloniously and falsely made, forged, and
counterfeited a certain note of hand, dated Birmingham, October 7, 1824,
for the sum of £500, with intent to defraud George Smith and his
co-partners, trading as John Freeman and Co., the Bristol Copper
Company. His other creditors, or victims, refrained from preferring
charges.

The discovery of his frauds was for him an unlucky accident. Savery,
it is suggested, alarmed by the recent execution of the famous forger
Henry Fauntleroy, had decided to decamp. He had already reached London
when an irregularity in one of the fraudulent bills happened to be
noted in Bristol. This caused his partner Saward to look into the
affairs of the company, and to discover, for one thing, that a large
stock of sugar invoiced to a creditor Protheroe had by some means been
taken from the warehouse and sold to another merchant for a draft of
£1500. This draft Savery had taken to London and exchanged for a
credit on New York.

Saward set out forthwith in pursuit of his absconding partner. One
rumour, true or not, is that (in the prim tones of _The Times)_
Savery "had been accompanied from Bristol by a female of a certain
description," had been followed by his wife to Portsmouth, had
explained his situation to her, and urged her to return, exclaiming,
"Go back, go back! Your route will be traced, and my ruin will be
effected." The other account is that he wrote from London attributing
his delay to illness. Whereupon his wife and her family left Bristol to
attend him. He told them his position and they returned.

At all events Saward met Mrs. Savery at Bath, was told that Savery
had already departed for America, but still hopefully continued the
pursuit. In London he received information that led him to suspect
Savery had not yet gone, but was a passenger on the _Hudson,_ soon
to sail from Cowes. The end of the chase was now in sight. Saward
engaged a constable at Cowes, and they rowed out to the _Hudson,_
now only thirty minutes from its hour of sailing. From its deck the
fugitive, passing under the name of Serrington (so reported but
possibly an error for _Servington,_ the family related by
marriage), watched their approach with trepidation. They boarded the
vessel, and Savery threw himself into the sea. He was rescued, and in
agony of mind dashed his head against the walls of the ship repeatedly.
They restrained his violence and took him ashore to the Vine Inn. This
occurred on December 9.

From then until his committal Savery was on the verge of insanity.
Two peace-officers constantly attended him to prevent further acts of
self-violence. He was taken back to Bristol by coach, at one time in
the depths of despondency, at another singing light songs in an access
of elation. They reached Bristol on December 15 and Savery was brought
up before the Mayor and the Magistrates at the Guildhall. His
incoherence was such that several postponements took place until he was
at last, on December 23, committed for trial at the next Assizes.

The account of the trial that Savery gives in the first chapter of
the third volume of the novel sticks pretty closely to the facts. He
appeared before the Recorder, Lord Gifford, on April 2-4, 1825. When
asked by the Clerk of the Arraigns how he pleaded to the charge, Savery
replied, "Guilty," a plea that was apparently quite unexpected. The
Recorder urged him to reconsider, but without effect. He even warned
the prisoner that he should entertain no false hopes in giving such an
answer. As if this were not sufficient, Savery was then taken from the
courtroom for some minutes so that he might deliberate in quiet. On his
return he appeared more collected than before and entered the same
plea.

It seems evident that Gifford's warning not to hope that such a plea
would gain mercy had passed Savery by. During the judge's comments on
the evils of forgery Savery interjected to say that he was not aware
that issuing fictitious signatures was subject to the same sentence as
forgery. In fact, it seems certain that he had earlier been advised to
plead guilty with the assurance that this would save his life. As it
happened, it appeared likely to have the opposite effect: Gifford was
simply obliged to pass the standard condemnation. He put on the black
cap and uttered the customary phrases:

"...my painful duty to pronounce that you, Henry Savery, be taken
from hence to the place from whence you came, and thence to the place
of execution, and there to be hanged by the neck until you are
dead."

Savery's self-possession, already shaken by the judge's remarks, now
gave way, and in the words of a contemporary newspaper:

The prisoner, on hearing the latter words, seemed to lose all power
of breathing, and dropped down his head.

The verdict took more than Savery by horrified surprise; and George
Smith, one of the prosecutors, pressed forward through the crowd by the
witness box and asked the judge for mercy--an unusual enough
procedure for any prosecutor no matter how nominal. The judge, himself
affected, leaned back but made no reply. Amid the dead silence of the
crowded courtroom Savery was led away.

The day of execution was later appointed as Friday, April 22.

Matters, of course, did not rest there. Savery had powerful friends,
and representations were speedily made to the Home Department. These
alone might not have sufficed: personal influence could have been
countered on the grounds that others better known than Savery had
suffered death for the same offence. But the argument that Savery had
been induced to plead guilty, with the certainty of imprisonment
instead of a death sentence--this was the chief and, as it proved,
the conclusive point in his favour. In a letter to Governor Arthur,
over three years later, James Stephen, Counsel at the time to the
Colonial Office, and later Under-Secretary for the Colonies, declared:
"Mr. Peel, I apprehend, would certainly have left him to die, had it
not been for the blunder of the magistrate before whom he was
examined." But the days dragged on with no definite news, and Savery
must have resigned himself to death despite the reassurances of
friends. At last, however, on Thursday, April 21, less than twenty-four
hours before the time appointed for the execution, two letters were
received at Bristol, one from Peel, Secretary of State for the Home
Department, the other from Hobhouse, Under-Secretary of State: the
sentence of death was commuted to transportation for life. The Bristol
sheriffs, Gardiner and Walker, immediately went to the prison and told
Savery the welcome news.

They found him in bed; but, on hearing the grateful intelligence
that his life had been spared, he immediately rose, kneeled down, and
in fervent accents returned thanks to the Almighty for his
deliverance.

Well he might. We are left with the feeling that he was very lucky.
His was the one reprieve from execution of a batch of such offenders.
His case was closely preceded by that of Henry Fauntleroy, the most
notorious forger of his generation. A rake, a _bon vivant,_ a
cultivated and witty man with a wide circle of friends, Fauntleroy is
thought to have forged notes to the tune of a quarter of a million
pounds in his startling career. He was a partner in the banking house
of Marsh, Stracey and Co., whose consequent failure had very widespread
effects. After an elaborate trial Fauntleroy was executed at Newgate on
November 30, 1824, at the age of forty, in the presence, according to
reports, of 100,000 spectators.

So there was good precedent for Savery's suffering the same fate.
And, as it happened, there were executions for forgery a few years
later. In 1828, for instance, the Quaker Joseph Hunton was executed for
forging two bills to a total of about £250. The last such
execution took place on the last day of 1829--Thomas Maynard,
hanged at Newgate. So there were executions before and after. And
Savery had actually pleaded guilty.

He remained in prison for three months after his trial, and in the
first week of July was transferred with nine or ten other convicts to
the _Justitia_ hulk at Woolwich. From the hulk he was embarked on
the convict ship _Medway,_ which left Woolwich on July 20 for
Sheerness to take on the rest of her convict complement. There, three
days later, John Dunmore Lang, the stormy petrel of Presbyterianism in
Australia, came aboard. The remainder of the convicts were embarked
before the end of the month; the _Medway_ cast anchor about three
weeks later; and at some time between August 22 and 25 Land's End sank
from view. It was the last sight of England most of those on board were
ever to have.

On this vessel of about 450 tons there were 172 male convicts. Its
skipper was Borthwick Wight. Its Surgeon Superintendent was Gilbert
King, who seven years afterwards was to write a testimonial to Savery's
character, saying among other things that Savery had been under his
superintendence during the voyage. Indeed, the prisoner seems to have
been treated with some consideration during those sixteen weeks afloat.
The _Colonial Times,_ announcing the arrival of the _Medway_
at Hobart, made special mention of Savery: "He was treated with the
greatest kindness and attention during the voyage, having by order of
Government separate accommodation."

Whether he made acquaintance with John Dunmore Lang is uncertain,
but likely enough. During the voyage Lang wrote some of the poems that
later appeared as _Aurora Australis_ (1826), and in the preface he
talks of one prisoner: "I had a conversation with an old German Jew, a
prisoner. He was a man of very general information, having received a
tolerable education in his youth. He was rather fastidious in the
choice of his associates on board ship and had very few acquaintances
among his fellow prisoners." There is no mention of Savery, but the two
probably conversed. In _Quintus Servinton_ (vol. iii, chapter 4)
Savery writes of the "presbyterian divine of the Scotch kirk," who
mildly reproached him for laughing at those who were seasick, and who
afterwards talked with him repeatedly. This is undoubtedly Lang.

The _Medway_ arrived at Hobart on December 9 or 10 or 11, 1825.
Three convicts had died on the voyage. The 169 were landed on December
15, and 125 of them were immediately assigned as servants to
settlers.

Among those kept in Government service was Savery. In spite of what
the indulgence shown him on the _Medway_ seemed to promise, on
arrival he was treated like any other convict. Col. George Arthur, the
Lieutenant-Governor of Tasmania from 1824 to 1836, writing to Lord
Bathurst on January 27, 1827, noted that...Savary (sic) was subjected
to the degradation of being landed in the Prisoners' dress, and, in
this disgraceful garb, with his head close shorn, he was conducted to
the Common Jail Yard for inspection and assignment with the other
miserable outcasts from Newgate, who arrived by the same vessel, a
punishment of itself sufficient to fill a mind of ordinary sensibility
with horror and remorse for his crimes, and which there was every
appearance at the time to believe Savary felt most acutely.

Savery's concern thereafter was to rehabilitate himself--if we
understand by the term not merely resuming respectability but in the
process gaining some kudos, being recognized as a man of some
consequence. This desire to cut a figure, indulged in to the point of
recklessness and even illegality (though Savery almost certainly never
looked at it like that), was the cause of his arrest, trial, and
transportation. The same desire, indulged in more cautiously, was still
to bring a great deal of trouble upon him until the last few years of
his life, when caution succumbed to desperation and trouble became
catastrophe.

He was put into the Colonial Secretary's office, and later into that
of the Colonial Treasurer. Such a disposal of an adept man of affairs
did not meet with the approval of those colonists who would willingly
have paid Savery a handsome salary for his services. Nor did it have
the approval of those who were hostile to Lieutenant-Governor Arthur
and the authority he exercised. Savery was widely thought of as a tool
of the governing group and was very shortly used as a stick with which
to beat Arthur. Letters were written to England complaining of the
employment of a convict in confidential affairs. The English
authorities were forced to take notice.

In a letter of August 2, 1826, Bathurst asked Arthur to explain.
Arthur replied effectively on January 27, 1827, pointing out that the
complaints were misrepresentations of the position and were concocted
by those who wanted Savery as an assigned servant. Savery was under
another prisoner in the Colonial Secretary's office and received
£18 per annum. Then upon this prisoner being removed Savery
received £30 p.a. plus a ration of one pound of bread and one
pound of meat. His hours were from 9 a.m. to 3 p.m. (or later if press
of work demanded). The use of educated convicts in clerical work,
Arthur pointed out, dated from the very inception of the colony and was
absolutely unavoidable, since the cost of free labour in such positions
would be prohibitive. All that Arthur could do in response to
Bathurst's order that Savery be dismissed was to reduce him to his
former yearly salary of £18!

This was not the end of the matter. Goderich (August 3, 1827)
demanded an explanation of the means whereby Savery, only a month after
arriving in the Colony, had managed to procure a certificate of his
ability to support his wife and family, which would if approved ensure
that they were to be brought out to Tasmania at the public expense. If
Savery received only £18 per annum, then some contradiction
existed.

Again, how had it come about that Savery was conducting the
Government Gazette (i.e. the _Hobart Town Gazette)?_

Arthur, replying to the second question, denied the charge flatly,
and shrewdly commented:

It has been suggested to me, that, as it has been an anxious wish
with "Savery" that his Wife and Child should follow him in his exile,
and as her Friends have strongly objected to it from his condition, it
has been his policy to put the best aspect on his affairs and
situation, and therefore it is not improbable he may himself have sent
Home a most exaggerated and unfaithful representation of the importance
of his station in the Colony.

The question of the Certificate was not so easily disposed of. When
Savery landed in the Colony, Captain John Montagu was the Colonial
Secretary with H. J. Emmett as his Chief Clerk. Asked for an
explanation, Emmett declared that Savery, shortly after his arrival,
came one day from the Colonial Secretary's room and said that Montagu
considered it proper for Savery to ask for his wife and child to come
out. He was to tell Emmett to draw up the usual application. At
Savery's request Emmett subjoined the Certificate. (Emmett knew Savery
was skilled in accounts and could easily make money in his spare time;
Rowland Walpole Lane, for instance, had just declared he would pay
liberally for Savery's services.) But now, upon enquiry, Emmett found
that Montagu recollected giving no such instruction to Savery. Emmett
therefore concluded that it was an invention by Savery, "in part of a
scheme to establish generally the idea of his being particularly
favoured by the Government of this Colony, through which he might hope
to receive a countenance from the Public, which in ordinary
circumstances he could not expect."

John Montagu, rather more tolerant in his assessment, emphasized the
disappointment and anxiety that Savery was labouring under. He summoned
Savery and Emmett, and got from the former his recollection of what had
happened. Savery replied that he had asked if his wife could come out
to the Colony and if he could then be assigned to her. Montagu informed
him that a convict had to be in the Colony a year and the wife had to
be of exceptional character. This, said Savery, would present no
difficulty: his wife had money and he would send for her immediately.
Montagu had replied that it was the best step for Savery to take, and
he should have his wife sent out in the usual way. Emmett should be so
informed.

Montagu in this report to Arthur denied the last statement,
indicating the means by which, if necessary, he could support his
denial. On the other hand he felt that Savery was not guilty of any
deliberate deception: plagued by feelings of inferiority and worry, he
had simply misconstrued Montagu's advice (to send for his wife) into an
instruction to tell Emmett to arrange things in the usual way.

Reading these reports, so many years later, one is inclined to
wonder if Montagu were not unduly generous. Taking stock of Savery's
actions before and after this event, a reader tends to accept Emmett's
conclusion. Savery must have been an extremely plausible man. He must
have been pleasant to meet, persuasive to listen to. But if a listener
had any knowledge of Savery's undertakings and the results that so
frequently ensued, then that listener might be wise if he accepted with
caution any statements and proposals he heard.

Even undertakings where Savery was apparently above suspicion could
be unfortunate. He helped Captain B. B. Thomas in his financial
accounts concerned with the Van Diemen's Land Establishment.
Dissatisfaction arose among the English directors, and both Thomas and
Savery were under suspicion for a time until both were at last cleared
of any charges of inefficiency or malpractice.

Even simple personal happenings had their repercussions. Arthur, for
instance, became aware early in February, 1828, that Savery had not
been working for the Colonial Auditor for several months. Why?
Lakeland, Principal Superintendent of Convicts, replied that Savery had
his hand bound up and could not perform his usual duties. The Assistant
Colonial Surgeon reported that a piece of wood had fallen on Savery's
finger. He should not use his hand for months or he might lose the
finger. Whereupon (too opportunely?) one George Cartwright in a letter
to Lakeland requested that Savery, since he could not write, might be
allowed to help his free overseer to superintend some building work.
Who, asked Arthur, was this free overseer of Cartwright's? John Oxley
by name. A little more information, please. He was formerly a convict,
but now had a conditional pardon. Had been transported for
housebreaking. Character from gaol--"bad". Character from
hulks--no record. How then had Oxley got a pardon?...And so on. It
ostensibly concerns Savery very little, all this probing; but it all
smacks of what happened so often. When almost any inquiry was made into
almost any activity that Savery was engaged in, then explanations
tended to be long, involved, and sometimes devious. One feels a
sympathy, both illogical and yet very human, with Arthur when on
several occasions he vents his doubts whether Savery will really
reform.

However, except for official irritation and doubtful glances, Savery
himself did not seem to suffer--until the event that his heart
desired: the arrival of his wife.

Early in 1828 Mrs. Savery embarked on the _Jessie Lawson,_ its
skipper Captain Church. The season was stormy, and the ship was wrecked
on the English coast near Plymouth or Falmouth. The passengers were
saved. Even the cargo was salvaged and was disposed of, according to
the _Sydney Gazette_ of June 4, in Plymouth for the benefit of the
underwriters.

For most women this might have been sufficient deterrent; but
undaunted Mrs. Savery, after a few months with her parents, ventured
again, this time on the _Henry Wellesley._ On board was Algernon
Montagu, who was on his way to Tasmania to become Attorney General. To
him, as a sort of guardian, her anxious parents and friends entrusted
Mrs. Savery and her son Oliver. Whether the choice was a wise one is
doubtful. Montagu seems to have been a headstrong and erratic man, with
odd romantic notions. James Stephen, writing to Arthur from Downing
Street on April 24, 1829, retails the impression that three or four
meetings with Montagu produced on him.

He appeared to me a raw young man quite unaccustomed to business,
and very likely to give himself up to various affectations of
sentiment, romantic feeling, and literary taste. I say affectations,
not because I have any right to distrust the genuineness of the tone in
which he talked, but because there was in his manner something that
looked artificial and made-up, and which conveyed the impression of
borrowed manners...

For about eighteen weeks Montagu was to be Mrs. Savery's constant
companion.

Whether any attachment sprang up on either side is not known, but it
seems that some people in the Colony later looked askance on the
relationship. Sarah Benson Walker (1812-1893), dictating her
reminiscences in 1884, ambiguously said of Mrs. Savery:

She came out in the vessel with Judge Montagu who afterwards lived
at Kangaroo Point. She lived at the Macquarie and Montagu lived there.
There was a book written about the affair, called "Quintus
Servinton."

What does seem most probable, however, is that a contrast was
underlined for Mrs. Savery. She had been on shipboard for a number of
months in the company of a young man of some attainments and of assured
social position about to take up an elevated judicial post. When she
arrived in Tasmania she was to find her husband still a convict, with
not even a ticket of leave, and with a threat of imprisonment for debt
hanging over his head. Her dissatisfaction and disappointment must have
been extreme. And her reaction, one suspects, may have been resentment
rather than pity--for she had been led to expect something quite
different.

It seems beyond doubt that the accounts that Savery sent her of his
position in the Colony and of his material conditions had been
thoroughly misleading. This estimate is supported by a letter of August
1, 1829, from Arthur to Sir George Murray, in which, referring to Mrs.
Savery, he writes:

This lady, it appears, is most respectably connected in England,
and, allured by the gross misrepresentations of her Husband as to the
comfort of his situation in this Colony, she, unfortunately, ventured
to join him. Wounded by the shameful duplicity which had been practised
upon her, some domestic misunderstanding took place immediately after
her debarkation...

It is all of a piece. Acutely disappointed at his treatment, Savery
took every opportunity of inflating his importance in the eyes of the
colonists, whether bond or free. We may recall, for instance, in an
earlier passage, Emmett's comments on Savery's motives and methods in
getting his certificate a few weeks after he arrived in Tasmania.

The deception had results that were almost fatal. The _Henry
Wellesley_ reached Hobart on October 30 or 31, 1828. What quarrels
or misunderstandings took place between Mrs. Savery and her husband can
only be conjectured, but these must have been poignant. A week after
her arrival, on the evening of Friday, November 7, Savery attempted
suicide by cutting his throat. Luckily for him, help was at hand: Dr.
William Crowther was summoned, and Savery's life was preserved.

His recovery was not the end of his troubles. The writ that was
pending now seemed likely to involve his wife, who had brought out some
property with her. She appealed to Algernon Montagu, who agreed to meet
the demand provided that nothing was done that would prove distressing
to Mrs. Savery. But the creditors nevertheless initiated action that
threatened her possessions, and Henry Jennings requested Montagu to
fulfil his verbal assurances. Montagu--quite reasonably, one
feels--declared himself under the circumstances no longer bound by
his former promise. The further development of this affair, which
resolved itself into a series of bitter quarrels between Jennings and
Montagu--intemperate letters, an abortive libel action,
publication of correspondence in the newspapers, appeals to Arthur, and
so forth--hardly concerns us. But the writ against Savery brought
about his imprisonment on December 19.

Mrs. Savery was now in a sorry plight--her husband in prison
for debt with no prospect of early release, herself dependent on monies
from England (for Montagu, even if willing, could hardly provide for
her financially)--and saw no solution in the Colony for her
problems. She was advised to return to England. This she did. Some time
between February 10 and 15, 1829, hardly more than three months after
her arrival, she left with her son on the _Sarah._ Savery never
saw her again. In September, 1832, a few months after he received his
ticket of leave, he filled in an application at the Colonial
Secretary's Office to have her brought out on a free passage. She did
not respond.

Savery remained in prison until March, 1830, a period of fifteen
months. He suffered no particular physical hardships during his
imprisonment, but enforced leisure must have been irksome to a man so
prone to activity of almost all kinds. He occupied the latter half of
1829, we may gratefully note, in writing; for it was in those six
months that he produced his most engaging work, _The Hermit of Van
Diemen's Land._ It consisted of a series of thirty sketches of
Hobart life and characters, longer than Goldsmith's essays in _The
Citizen of the World,_ but with a general resemblance to them. They
appeared in Andrew Bent's _Colonial Times_ as by "Simon Stukeley."
The names given to the characters depicted were of course fictitious,
but a contemporary key has been preserved. An advertisement of January
8, 1830, in the _Colonial Times_ announced the publication of
these sketches in a volume, but a week later this was modified to say
that publication was suspended until an impending libel suit based on
the _Hermit_ articles should be disposed of.

The suit was brought on May 10, 1830--Gamaliel Butler _v._
Andrew Bent. Butler was awarded £80 damages against the
publisher. Savery's name was not mentioned in the case, for the
authorship of the _Hermit_ articles was a well-preserved secret.
Indeed today, but for Henry Melville, the Hobart printer and publisher,
we should not know that Savery wrote them. In the British Museum copy
of _The Hermit of Van Diemen's Land_ a sheet has been inserted on
which Melville ascribes to Savery the authorship of the _Hermit_
articles and also of _Quintus Servinton._ This notation by
Melville, as reproduced below, is the only evidence that we possess
that names Savery. But there is no reason to doubt Melville's
ascription.

Henry Savery a merchant of Bristol was about the year 1825
transported for forgery and was a crown prisoner when in jail in 1829.
In the same jail in Hobart Town was Thomas Wells incarcerated for
common debt. Savery wrote all the Hermit and Wells copied for the
printer. At that time if the authorities knew that a prisoner wrote for
the press the punishment was transportation to the penal establishment
of Macquarie Harbour. Hence arose the mystery about the authorship of
the Hermit! I believe all the parties mentioned except myself are in
spirit land. On obtaining his ticket of leave Savery became a great
Agriculturalist and failed. He again committed forgery and was sent to
the penal settlement of Port Arthur where he destroyed his life by
cutting his own throat. He was the author of Quintus Servinton of which
he is the hero. The undersigned printed the work and was at the time
the editor, printer & proprietor of the Colonial Times newspaper.
The writing page 141 is that of Andrew Bent from whom the undersigned
bought the Colonial Times and printing establishment in 1829.

Henry Melville
Nov. 1869.

Early in 1830 Savery was released and was assigned to Major
Macintosh in the New Norfolk district. An annotation by Arthur of March
16 runs:

If Savory (sic) be discharged from Jail, I wish Him to be assigned
to Major Macintosh, with the positive condition that He is to reside at
his Farm in the neighbourhood of N. Norfolk--is not to be allowed
to Trade or be employed on his own account in any way.

The stipulation is ominous--an indication of Arthur's
exasperation, which Savery, often unwittingly, had aroused, and also of
his distrust.

It must have been in the later months of his imprisonment and during
his retirement, as we may put it, with Macintosh that he wrote
_Quintus Servinton,_ of which this volume is a reprint.
Advertisements appeared in January, 1831, in the _Hobart Town
Courier_ and in the _Tasmanian_ to say that the novel was in
the press and would shortly be published in three volumes octavo; and
that as it was printed expressly for transmission to England, only a
few copies would be reserved for sale in the Colony. The first of these
papers reviewed it on March 19:

We have read the new novel, Quintus Servinton, and though it cannot
certainly claim the first rank among the many eminent works of a
similar kind of the present day, it is very far from being
discreditable to us as a first production of the kind in these remote
regions...The story is written in an easy and in some parts elegant and
affecting style, and with those who know and can identify the hero,
will be read with considerable interest...we must add our regret that
the language in some parts is not only loosely expressed, but in a few,
not even grammatical, a fault which however venial in the hasty
productions of the newspaper press, admits of no excuse in a work of
this kind...

This comment reads a little odd to us today: the prose of the novel
is grammatical enough, but few would call it "easy" or "elegant."

In 1831 Savery, by his own account, did some writing for Henry
Melville's _Van Diemen's Land Almanack._ What this was is
uncertain, but he possibly contributed the historical section or, more
probably, wrote or revised the gardening notes.

In January, 1832, he submitted a petition for some relaxation of
severity, and this he accompanied with over seventy testimonials from
all kinds of people. These comments fall into two groups--those
that briefly and formally recommend Savery, and those of greater length
that make mention of Savery's character and actions, and of the
acquaintance of the writers with Savery's family in England. One from
James Grant refers to _Quintus Servinton:_

I think I know more of his principles from his writings than any
other source, and will here quote the observation I made audibly on
closing the book after reading thro'--"If Mr. Savery wrote this
Book he cannot be a bad man, and I think he had atoned for his offence
against Public Justice."

The Colonial Secretary replied favourably on May 31, and on June 5,
between six and seven years after his arrival in Tasmania, Savery
received his ticket of leave.

A year later he was deprived of it in a manner that may seem to us
rather arbitrary. James Gordon, a police magistrate in the Richmond
area, was suspended for "non-payment of fees and fines...for applying
the public money to his own use." Gordon apparently was engaged in the
practice of lending money to his constables, receiving their salaries
in return, and inducing them to buy food and clothing from him (or his
agent). He protested against his suspension, received no redress, and
published the correspondence in a pamphlet. This was reviewed in the
_Tasmanian_ of March 1, 1833, and certain comments were made on
Gordon's motives and behaviour, among them this:

...although we are by no means inclined to accuse Mr. Gordon of any
dishonesty in the business, his own letters convict him of a
disreputable bias towards "filthy lucre."

At the time this review appeared, Henry Melville, the printer of the
_Tasmanian,_ was absent. Savery, who had for some time been his
assistant, was looking after the paper. This gave Gordon his
opportunity. Bitterly resentful of Arthur and the authorities, he
decided to use against them Order no. 41 of July 9, 1828, which forbade
any convict to write for the newspapers. The Order, once used by Arthur
in his campaign against Andrew Bent, was now to be used against Arthur
himself. Gellibrand, Gordon's lawyer, was instructed to bring out the
fact that the authorities now winked at the breaking of this Order.
Gordon laid a complaint against Savery, who was charged at the Police
Office on May 30 that, being a convict holding a ticket of leave, he
had inserted in the _Tasmanian_ an article tending to traduce the
character of Gordon--all being contrary to the Order mentioned.
The three magistrates, M. Forster, Josiah Spode and James England,
ordered Savery to be deprived of his ticket of leave for twelve
months.

The whole affair was a tissue of cross-purposes and miscalculations.
The unfortunate Savery had not written the review. It was the product
of one Thomas Richards, who had come out, a free man, not very long
before. Richards wrote to admit his authorship, and absolved Savery of
blame. But Savery, as it happened, had not been penalized for editing a
newspaper or for writing the review. Both Forster and Spode, in letters
to Arthur, declared that Savery was punished not because he had
violated Order no. 41 but because he had spoken disrespectfully of
Gordon, a Legislative Councillor and the oldest magistrate in the
Colony. The Executive Council, reporting on the affair about a week
later, stressed that this had not come out at the trial, that Savery
had known nothing of it, and therefore had no reason to offer evidence
in rebuttal. Consequently he ought to have his ticket of leave
restored. We know that it was restored, but it apparently took a little
time.

The worst sufferer was Gordon himself. By carelessness (or in
treachery by Gellibrand) there was left in the Police Office the brief
that contained Gordon's instructions to his lawyer, Gellibrand. This
made clear, in Forster's words, that Gordon had brought suit "in order
to establish a false accusation made against the government of its
sanctioning convicts having the control of the Newspaper press." The
Executive Council condemned Gordon with some relish, and wrote to him
saying that it had concluded he was no longer fit to be a member of the
Legislative Council and a magistrate, and that all the documents in the
case would be forwarded to the Secretary of State.

Aiming at Arthur, Gordon had temporarily crippled Savery and had
severely wounded himself. There were no punches pulled in political
squabbles in early Tasmania.

From this time until 1838, the year when the last phase of Savery's
troubled career began, references and records are sporadic. It is
interesting to note the considerable legal activity of which he had,
directly or indirectly, already been the cause: his own trial, the Van
Diemen's Land Establishment dispute, the Montagu and Jennings suits,
the Butler _v._ Bent libel action, the Gordon _v._ Savery
case. One might think that Savery would have had his fill of
litigation. But in the next five years on occasion actions were not
only brought against him but also initiated by him. All concerned
money. William Lindsay, William Gibbins, and Maurice Smith were three
of those with whom he had legal brushes.

All this time he continued his work in agriculture, and leased farms
that he proceeded to develop. There survive, for instance, two letters
in which he offers his advice to Arthur on the improvement of soil.
Writing from The Lawn Farm (in the New Norfolk district) on November
24, 1834, he points out that Arthur's farm, directly opposite, is
covered with water weeds. He suggests that his own methods, quite
different from those normally employed, may serve. Arthur either wrote
asking further advice or else granted him an interview, for in a second
letter dated December 4, 1834, Savery says he has inspected Arthur's
property and thinks the solution may be numerous deep drains dividing
up the fields into small plots together with lime dressing on some
fields. He concludes by insisting that his only motive for thus
intruding upon Arthur's attention is his own interest in agriculture, a
profession which he feels has been neglected.

Savery's final troubles began in 1838, when in February Thomas
Young, attorney for Reuben Joseph, petitioned that Savery be declared
insolvent. The proceedings, repeatedly postponed month after month,
must have weighed on Savery's mind, and it seems likely that in these
last years he took to drink. From a report of a meeting of creditors
after his death, for instance, there emerges news of a debt to William
Montgomerie, licensed victualler. Though this may have been incurred
for other needs than liquor, it appears significant enough.

Despite all this, there were a few bright patches. In March of the
same year he received his conditional pardon. His interest in
agriculture, marked throughout his years in the Colony, had its last
manifestations. In May he took over a farm at Hestercombe from one
Dunn, under an agreement that Savery was to be, as it were, on
probation for a year. If the improvements he contracted to make were
satisfactory, then he would be granted a six-year lease at a rental of
£160 per annum for the first three years and of £190 for
the next three.

But any hopes he had of rehabilitating himself were delusive, for
this very project, so it seems, was among the causes of his ultimate
fall. He sank deeper and deeper into debt, signed bills with little
hope of meeting them, renewed them, and paid them by bills drawn on
others. As if this were not enough, minor worries tormented him. Early
in 1839 he had some trouble over a pass he had given his assigned
servant, granting him permission to leave the farm and stay away
overnight. Perhaps because of this, added to doubts of his suitability,
near the end of the same year the Board of Assignment refused him an
assigned servant in spite of his plea that it was essential for him to
have one.

The burden grew heavier. Savery apparently became neglectful even of
correspondence. The _Hobart Town Gazette,_ for instance, listed
him as one of those for whom unclaimed letters were being held at the
General Post Office for the quarters ending March and June of 1839. At
last the wretched man cracked. In desperation, we must suppose, he
resorted to the device that had been the original cause of his
downfall--he signed fictitious bills.

Detection came near the end of 1840. The _Hobart Town Courier_
for September 4 announced:

During the week, forged bills to a considerable extent have been
detected. The offender is the well known Mr. Savery. Report states that
he has fled via Launceston, and shipped himself for Adelaide.

But report erred. On Tuesday, September 29, he was arrested in
Hobart Town, was examined at the Police Office two days later, and was
remanded.

On October 29 he was brought up for trial before the same Algernon
Montagu who had acted as the protector of Mrs. Savery on her voyage out
to Tasmania. The witnesses were Richard Cooke and Josiah Austin, and
there was a jury of seven. Savery pleaded not guilty to the charge of
uttering a forged acceptance with intent to defraud Richard Cooke. The
jury brought in the expected verdict of guilty, and Montagu addressed
the prisoner in terms of severe condemnation: "I will not, however, so
far stultify myself as to suppose ...reformation will be shown by
you..." The sentence was: Transportation beyond the sea for life.

This generally meant, for Tasmanian offenders, imprisonment in the
penitentiary at Port Arthur, the grim group of buildings on Tasman's
Peninsula, controlled at that time by Captain Charles O'Hara Booth, an
administrator capable, forceful, just, and inflexible. Thither Savery
was transported.

Fifteen months later he was dead.

His death, unlike his birth, still presents a puzzle. The note by
Henry Melville in the British Museum copy of _The Hermit in Van
Diemen's Land,_ reproduced in this volume, contains the laconic
statement that Savery "was sent to the penal settlement of Port Arthur
where he destroyed his life by cutting his own throat." This seems
definite enough; and we should now certainly believe this account but
for David Burn, the first Australian dramatist.

On January 6, 1842, Burn embarked at Hobart with a few others on the
schooner _Eliza_ for a tour of Port Arthur. On Sunday, January 9,
he saw Savery. Here are the relevant parts of Burn's story:

From the cells we went to the hospital, where we had a signal
opportunity of drawing a wholesome moral from the sad--the
miserable consequences of crime. There, upon a stretcher, lay Henry
Savary _(sic),_ the once celebrated Bristol sugar-baker--a
man upon whose birth Fortune smiled propitious, whose family and
kindred moved in the very first circles, and who himself occupied no
inconsiderable place in his fellow-citizens' esteem.

Burn goes on to give an outline sketch of Savery's trial and his
life in Van Diemen's Land, where eventually he was...subjected to the
ordeal of Port Arthur. There he experienced a shock of paralysis, and
there ere long, in all human probability, the misguided man will
terminate his wretched career.

It has been said by the slanderers of the Colony that vice makes
converts. I would that my ancient antagonist, His Grace of Dublin, or
even his ally of the _Colonial Gazette,_ could have stood, as I
did, by Savary's pallet--could have witnessed the scarce-healed
wound of his attenuated throat--the lack-lustre glare of his
hollow eye: I think even they would have felt inclined to doubt the
syren's blandishments. Knowing, as I once did at Bristol, some of
Savary's wealthy, dashing, gay associates, I could not contemplate the
miserable felon before me without sentiments of the deepest compassion
mingled with horror and awe. There he lay, a sad--a solemn
warning.

All this occurred only a month before Savery's death on February 6,
1842. He was buried two days later by the Wesleyan minister at Port
Arthur, the Rev. John Allen Manton, whose notebook has the entry:

Tuesday February 8th. Today I have committed to the grave the
remains of Henry Savery, a son of one of the first bankers in Bristol,
but his end was without honour.

There are a few questions one would like answered. Was Savery still
suffering the "shock of paralysis" when Burn saw him, and if so, did he
recover from it and cut his throat? It seems unlikely. Again, what does
Burn mean by "the scarce-healed wound of his attenuated throat"? Does
he mean "lately-healed" or "badly-healed"? If the first, then Savery
must have attempted suicide at Port Arthur; if the second, then Burn
probably refers to the scar left by the attempt in 1828.

There remains the assertion by Henry Melville that Savery died by
cutting his throat. But it should be remembered that in 1869 Melville
was writing twenty-seven years after Savery's death. On the other hand
Melville was usually accurate. And Dr. Crowther of Hobart has pointed
out to me that suicide attempts are often repetitive. Savery made two
early attempts--by drowning, by cutting his throat. A third
attempt was likely enough.

We are left then with three possibilities: that the "shock of
paralysis" was the symptom of a "stroke" that caused his death; that
after Burn's visit Savery did cut his throat; that he cut his throat
before Burn's visit and that this and some other malady produced his
paralysis and later his death. I incline to the first explanation, and
think that a lapse of Melville's memory (he was sixty-nine when he
wrote the note on Savery) transferred the suicide attempt of 1828 to
the Port Arthur period. But this is speculation, and it seems unlikely
that we shall ever know for certain.

* * *

The events of Savery's life and the autobiographical novel he has
left us give some insight into the man. He was, so far as can be
learned, not striking in appearance. All we gain from the prison record
is that he was five feet eight inches in height, and that he had brown
hair and hazel eyes. But he was not commonplace in temperament.

His fraud discovered by chance, his escape frustrated by
half-an-hour, his condemnation caused by a misunderstanding, his life
preserved within twenty-four hours of execution, his wife saved from
shipwreck only to wreck his marriage, lawsuits brought against him
because of accidents of time and place, mishaps in business, bad luck
or bad management in farming, and finally debt and forgery and his last
condemnation--it all presents a multicoloured picture. Henry
Savery was, we may think, accident-prone.

On the other hand he was not a mere pawn without control over his
movements. His own estimates of his character, found at various points
in the novel, seem fairly penetrating and objective, and they differ in
this respect from his accounts of the events that happened. In such
recountals he tidies up the truth, he prunes a trifle, adds a little
here and there, and the result is not quite the actuality itself. He
presents himself as more innocent than he was. And yet his
self-portrayal, when in the form of an estimate, is very near the
truth. He was a man--and he recognizes this--who depended on
façade. He had to be doing things, and he liked to be recognized
as responsible for these. This brashness never left him. He was subdued
by his experiences as a convict in Tasmania, but up to the last few
years before his final arrest he still sought recognition: his letters
to Arthur offering advice in farming appear to me indications of this
unextinguished thirst.

He was, I think, often devious and secretive in his
dealings--but hopeful of outcome and not unmindful of the claims
of others. He was also, I suspect, prone to assertiveness if not
arrogance, and when he had power he used it--but he always felt
sure that his enemy had attacked first or at any rate deserved what he
got. He had the family pride of birth and he was proud in himself. He
always overbid his hand, a practice which in his earlier years was
forgiven for a time until the impersonal forces of law weighed acts and
not motives. But experience did not teach him. After a time he was
deceiving himself more than others. Lieutenant-Governor Arthur, perhaps
in exasperation at the trouble that Savery had unwittingly caused him,
wrote to Goderich on December 27, 1827: "Savery is a Man of whose real
reformation, notwithstanding the strong testimonials of his conduct
from Home and in this Colony, I have but a very faint hope."

And yet he must have possessed considerable charm. He had, as David
Burn put it, a circle of "dashing, gay associates" in Bristol; he
could, it is reasonable to deduce from the evidence, persuade his
father to forgive him a great deal; he was loved sincerely by his wife,
who despite one shipwreck was willing to risk another and come out to
Tasmania to join him; and he was able to extract glowing testimonials
from friends and acquaintances even after conviction and further
lawsuits. It is not too harsh to suggest that apart from successful
ingenuity and a practised bravado he had many of the qualifications of
the confidence-man.

The picture Savery gives in _Quintus Servinton_ is then mostly
true in analysis of what he was, less true in description and narration
of what he did. There is not, we may be thankful, much tearful
contrition or whining exculpation. It is a good human document.

As a work of literature, though it is not likely to occupy any high
position, it has its claims on our attention. It is for instance the
first Australian novel--the first story dealing in any measure
with Australia written by an inhabitant. There are one or two earlier
stories, for instance _Alfred Dudley; or, the Australian Settlers_
(1830) by an unknown author in England, who claims to have drawn his
information from "the kind communications of a gentleman who resided
for some time in Australia," but these can hardly be called Australian
novels. As for Mary Grimstone's _Woman's Love,_ a romantic tale
set in England, it was, as Morris Miller points out, mostly written in
Hobart during her three years there (March 1826 to February 1829), was
revised in England 1830-1, and published in 1832, a year after Savery's
novel appeared. _Quintus Servinton_ holds its position by setting,
date of publication, and residence of the author.

It is also valuable and interesting for its picture of convict life
as experienced by the educated convict, and here it affords a contrast
and a complement to such a narrative as _Ralph Rashleigh,_ in
which James Tucker paints a sombre picture of the brutality that can
crush the convict of humble birth and little education who is put to
manual tasks.

And last, simply as a novel, it still has power to tell a story. It
has its obvious defects: it is often long-winded, and its general
comments on life in general can become tiresome; and its style is to
our ears intolerably orotund. It is interesting to note that, though
written about ninety years after Fielding's earliest novel, it is more
formal in diction and seems today more old-fashioned. And yet, in spite
of these handicaps, it can persuade a reader to turn the pages and want
to know what is coming next. The pictures it gives of English
provincial life and even the accounts of business dealings in England
are--for some readers at any rate--fascinating in their
details. The narrative power is characteristic of a great deal of our
fiction of last century; many greater novels of this century seem not
to have it in the same degree.





QUINTUS SERVINTON




VOLUME ONE



PREFACE


Let not the Readers of Quintus Servinton adopt an unfavorable
impression towards it, because the author has thought fit to depart
from a custom now-a-days in fashion, and to prefix to his publication a
few introductory observations, calculated, he conceives, to act the
Master of the Ceremonies, and to bring his pretensions before the world
under more favourable auspices, than he might otherwise be justified in
anticipating.

First, then, as to the tale itself. Although it appears under this
shape,--or, as some may perhaps call it, novel,--it is no
fiction, or the work of imagination, either in its characters or
incidents. Not by this, however, is it pretended to be said that all
the occurrences it details, happened precisely in their order of
narration, nor that it is the mere recital of the events of a man's
life--but it is a biography, true in its general features, and in
its portraiture of individuals; and all the documents, letters and
other papers contained in its pages are transcripts, or nearly so, of
originals, copied from the manuscript, which came into the author's
hands in the manner described in the introductory chapter.

Thus much for the subject of the Work. Now, for a few words of a
more personal nature, as respects him by whom it is written. It was not
wholly a desire of fame, nor the hope of profit, nor, he trusts, an
over-weening vanity, that led the author to "o'erstep the modesty of
nature," and venture to compose a book; but it was the idea that he
might convey useful and instructive precepts under their most
attractive guise--the force of example. Let him not be understood,
however, as wishing to convey that he feels indifferent upon the point,
either of honor or of a fair remuneration for his time; for, were he
regardless of the first, he might be enticed into a careless laxity,
quite irreconcilable with prudence on the part of one, who treads so
dangerous and uncertain a path as that of Literature, when intended for
the amusement of others; and so far as the second is concerned, there
are few, similarly circumstanced to the Author--whose chief
dependence is the allegiance due to his King and Country, who can
afford to consider it altogether immaterial, whether they devote many
long and wearisome hours to an employment, "free, gratis, and all for
nothing," or, whether they reap some advantage from their labours.
Perhaps, therefore, each of the inducements has had some weight in the
production of Quintus Servinton. But, alas! so little do we know what
is before us--so abortive are our plans oft rendered by the events
of an hour, equally unexpected as beyond our controul, that when the
manuscript of the following pages was nearly completed, and ready to be
placed in the hands of the Printer, orders arrived for embarkation on a
distant service. What course therefore remained open? Either to employ
the many and tiresome hours of a passage from England to this distant
Colony, in the completion of the work, and then to send the manuscript
home for publication, subject to all the inconveniences that must have
inevitably attended such a plan, and which are as well known to authors
as the want of the last touch--the last finish, would be
understood and lamented, by the professors of the various branches of
the Arts and Sciences; or to defer till a return to Europe, the
ushering into existence the fruit of his labours. Most unexpectedly,
however, the termination of the voyage removed one very great
difficulty; for, by the extraordinary progress that has been made, in
adapting this little speck upon the Southern Ocean, to the wants and
necessities of Englishmen, it was found easily practicable to print and
publish an octavo work, in Van Diemen's Land.

It may be hoped that the mere circumstance alone, of Quintus
Servinton's being the first publication of this nature, that has ever
issued from a Colonial Press, may induce a favourable reception of the
undertaking, both here and in England; particularly, when it is borne
in mind, that this Press exists in one of the most recently formed of
the English Colonies. The Author has not to learn that he requires some
such extraneous help, towards supplying the numerous demands upon the
patience of the reader which, he fears, will be found to pervade his
pages; and when he adds, that the style of composition is entirely new
to him, he is aware how much further occasion he has to solicit
indulgence for his temerity in entering an arena, where a mighty genius
has latterly presided, chasing from the very precincts, all, whose
pretensions do not exceed mediocrity.

Still, is he not dismayed; because, strip him even of all other
laurels, he defies the hand that may be lifted against the moral
tendency of his tale; and he has not now to learn the great influence
this ever has, in creating favor with the British Public. Had time and
occasion served, perhaps he could have made the work more perfect in
its form, its style, and language; yet, the correctness of its details
could not have been improved. Such as it is, therefore, he entrusts it
with some degree of confidence, to the countenance and support of the
English Nation.

_Van Diemen's Land,_ 1830



INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER


Books, my dear girl, when well design'd,
Are moral maps of human kind----
Where, stretched before judicious eyes,
The road to worth and wisdom lies.

BISHOP


Which of my readers chances to be acquainted with the beautiful
scenery of the South of Devonshire? and which, being so acquainted,
recollects where the Dart, gliding its limpid way between Dartmouth and
Totness, waters a range of fertile meadows, interspersed every here and
there by a thickly tufted knoll, from whose eminence the picturesque
windings of the clear stream, seen at a short distance under its lofty
cliffs, give to the prospect an appearance, more interesting and more
romantic, than even a poet could describe? If there be any such, let
his recollection be carried a little farther, and perhaps it may
present to him a spot, nearly equidistant from the two towns, where, in
the centre of a lawn, gently shelving towards the river, flanked on the
rear by a luxuriantly wooded hill, on one side by a continuous tract of
rich pastures, and on the other by a lane, conducting the traveller to
the village of Appleford, stands a remarkably handsome cottage,
immediately surrounded by a shrubbery, kept in the highest order, and
communicating with the lane by a wicket, that opens upon a smooth, wide
gravel road, leading to the front door, whence it again turns with a
sweep, to the offices in the rear of the building.

The cottage itself is small, but singularly attractive in its
appearance, from the tasty manner of laying out the grounds around it,
evidently denoting that elegance and excellent management preside
within its walls, under their fairest shape and form. Along its front
is a veranda, clinging to whose pillars, the climatis and passion
flower vie in their endeavours to add to the beauty of the place. Close
to the house, are jessamines, honey-suckles, and China roses, in
luxuriant profusion, almost concealing the stucco with which the walls
are covered. On different parts of the grass plot in front, which has
been brought by constant mowing and rolling, to be as smooth as velvet,
are flower-beds, stored with all the choicest productions of the
country; rose-bushes trained along the ground by layers, and at various
distances, flowering and other shrubs, attaining great size and
perfection, from the peculiarly mild and salubrious climate where they
have been planted.

Towards this charming spot, accident led me one fine day at the
latter end of last August, and introduced to my knowledge a variety of
circumstances connected with its inhabitants, which struck me as being
sufficiently extraordinary, to induce my becoming an author; although,
so far as my readers are concerned, they doubtless might have been
benefitted, had the chance that befel me, occurred to many, rather than
myself.

Tempted by the extreme beauty of the scenery in this sequestered
valley, I was rambling, attended only by a favourite spaniel, led on by
that silent meditation ever sacred to the sylvan God, stopping every
now and then, and endeavouring by my pencil, to sketch the alternate
grand and lowly, but every where romantic landscape, when the short,
quick bark of Dash, announced that he had started game; and I almost
immediately saw him pursuing a hare through an adjoining corn-field,
deaf to my calls, and regardless of my repeated summons to return.
Unwilling to be deemed a trespasser by the neighbouring farmers, yet
finding all endeavours to reclaim the truant ineffectual, I was making
my way after him, full of bitterness and wrath, and had ascended one of
the high banks, for which the hedges in that part of the country are
remarkable, when, in jumping to the ground, upon the opposite side, my
foot slipped, and I fell, unable to move, presently finding that I had
disclocated my ancle.

Entirely a stranger, and in complete ignorance with regard to the
proximity of any dwelling, my repeated cries for assistance were made
rather in fear, than hope, and their echoes reverberating from the
rocky cliffs of the river, fell on my ear, solemn and melancholy in the
extreme. Hour after hour thus passed on, and notwithstanding I hallooed
and bawled until perfectly hoarse, no friendly response relieved my
anxiety--no passing traveller appeared to cheer and encourage me;
and when at length, the golden tints of the sun, as it approached the
western horizon, were reflected upon the foliage of the trees, at a
short distance, changing their hue from time to time, according to its
progressive descent, the splendid scene which at other times would be
calculated to afford a delightful interest, now created in my breast, a
chilling sickness, mingled with horror, and the most gloomy
apprehensions, not only so far as personal sufferings were concerned,
but as to my very existence.

While thus enduring the most agonising solicitude, a whistle, and
immediately afterwards a voice, calling out, "Rose! Rose! here, here,
come here, you little Snap!" rewarded my long and anxious listening;
and raising myself, in the best manner I was able, and once more
essaying to be heard, although I had nearly lost my voice by previous
ineffectual exertions, I had the inexpressible delight of seeing a
human being, within a couple of hundred yards of me, and presently
afterwards, of observing that I was noticed.

Let those who have ever experienced an unlooked for deliverance in
the hour of need, for no other can, enter into, and sympathise with my
feelings, when, in the course of a minute or two, a handsome boy,
apparently twelve or thirteen years of age, followed by his two dogs,
made his appearance. His dress, and general appearance, marked him a
Gentleman's son; and the survey I obtained of his features as he
approached, gave me cause equally to admire their regularity, as their
sweet expression. His eyes were dark and full, set off by thick auburn
hair, and a bright, fair complexion. Across his shoulder was hung a
fishing basket; in one hand he carried a rod and line, and in the
other, a small bag. Never shall I forget his beautiful cast of
countenance, during the few moments that he listened to my tale of
misery; indeed, he would barely allow me to finish, ere he exlaimed
with a tone and expression, all his own, "My Grandpapa and Grandmamma
live just across these two fields, under the wood, and I'll run and
tell them. My Grandmamma is so good and kind, I'm sure she'll take care
of you;" then, without allowing me time to reply, away he bounded with
the rapidity of a young deer.

I was scarcely able to compose my fluttered spirits under this happy
change of prospects, when, still looking in the direction my youthful
deliverer had taken, I saw him returning, holding the hand of a
Gentleman, and closely followed by two men carrying a hand-barrow, on
which were placed cushions. The Gentleman was of middle stature, and
fair, with brown hair, a good deal mingled with gray; although time did
not appear to have alone had a hand in this, as his age did not strike
me as exceeding sixty; and his walk was firm and erect. In his general
appearance and mode of salutation there was a certain concomitant of
good birth, which is always easy and polite, and it was quite evident
that he had seen much of the world--on his brow sat melancholy and
care, softened by resignation--there was nothing stern about him;
on the contrary, a mildness, a placidity distinguished his expression,
but yet there was a something about the eye, betraying that his mind
had been torn by early storms. I attempted to apologise, but he
instantly stopped me. "I have known myself, Sir, what a friend is, in
the hour of need, and God forbid I should ever withhold that, which I
have freely received. Olivant, my dear boy," addressing the child, "run
home and tell your Grandmamma we are coming, Sir," continued he, again
addressing me, "the very best woman in the world, at least, I think her
so, will do every thing your accident requires--allow me the honor
of assisting you on the barrow. Thomas, carry the Gentleman as easily
as you can, and let us make homewards."

Proceeding in this way, it was not long until we had accomplished my
painful journey;--painful, I may indeed say, for notwithstanding
every precaution, my agony was intense. At the door, we were met by a
Lady, perhaps some years younger than the Gentleman, and one single
look induced me to yield a willing assent to the commendation, I had
heard bestowed on her. "Emily my dearest," said my friendly guide, "I
have brought you a patient; this Gentleman has dislocated his
ancle."

"We had better send instantly for Mr. Setwell," replied the Lady;
"in the meantime, pray use the drawing-room."

It had been already strictly enjoined me, not to be ceremonious, nor
to attempt to control whatever was proposed for my relief. I therefore
gratefully, but tacitly yielded to the steps thus taken, and being
carried into a nicely furnished room, was carefully laid upon the sofa.
So soon as I was sufficiently at ease, to cast my eyes around me, I had
abundant cause to acquiesce in the justice of the attributes ascribed,
both by Grandfather and Grandson (for so my two deliverers appeared to
be,) to the Lady of the house; every thing exhibiting marks of that
refinement of ideas, peculiar to the female taste and character; and
presently the entrance of the Lady herself, allowed me a farther
opportunity of estimating her character. Surely, if woman's praises
were ever justly due, they belong to this amiable, and excellent
creature. In her youth she must have been eminently handsome; but what
is that, compared with the heavenly expression of the mind, visibly
pourtrayed by all the lines of her countenance? I could trace a strong
resemblance between this Lady, and her beautiful Grandson; although it
was also easy to discover the affinity of the Grandfather. It might be
tedious and uninteresting, to detail all the occurrences of the
fortnight I spent under the roof of this hospitable couple, ere my
removal was permitted. In return for the card I early put into the
hands of my friendly host, he simply gave me to understand, that his
name was Quintus Servinton; that the Lady was his wife, and the youth,
one of the children of an only son, who resided at a distance. The
course of events, daily brought us better acquainted; and, if at first,
I had reason to admire and esteem the Lady, I absolutely venerated her,
before I took my leave; with respect too, to her husband, his fond
devotion, and evident strong attachment both to her and his Grandson,
who was really a charming, well-behaved child, added to many other
little traits of character I observed, so counteracted an occasional
tendency to pettishness, which would now and then peep through his calm
melancholy, that I quite loved and respected him, and felt sincerely
for his sorrows, without knowing their cause; in a word, I became
attached to the whole of this interesting family. Our evenings were
generally passed in a book or music room, fitted up in a manner, to bid
defiance to _ennui,_ in whatever shape it might make its advances.
Here, we sometimes alternately read aloud some popular Author; at
others, employed ourselves in more solitary avocations; relieving the
hours, by entertaining and rational converse. The medical Gentleman who
attended me, had now pronounced, that in a day or two, I might venture
to move, and as we were all sitting together one evening, talking of
the vicissitudes of life, Mr. Servinton said, "We none of us know what
is before us, or what we can bear, until we are tried; you see before
you, a man who has tasted of the cup of affliction, or I would rather
call it chastening, to its very dregs, but God was kind to me through
all, as he sent me an angel in a human form, to comfort, console, and
advise me." Here he seemed overcome by a momentary intensity of
feeling, and as he wiped away the starting tear, rose, kissed his wife,
then his grandson, and continued.--"You must excuse me, Sir, but a
man who has been married between thirty and forty years, may be allowed
to praise his wife, even before strangers--but mine must be
rewarded by Heaven, not by me, for I am incapable of rendering her,
half her meed of justice. One false step, one dereliction from sound
principle on my part, in early life, was the occasion of misery to both
of us for years afterwards; but it enabled me, I trust, to know the
value of two inestimable jewels, my wife, and my immortal soul. You may
derive instruction, Sir, from being made acquainted with my story; it
is capable of teaching you, and forcibly exemplifying a few important
truths. The mirror of life, as held up to us, by the faults and follies
of our neighbours, may always be looked into with advantage; from such
as I can present may be learnt, the danger of self-sufficiency, or the
over estimation of one's powers. That no other course than what is
perfectly straight forward and honourable, free from all cutting and
contrivance, can ever be trod with safety.--That the imprudence of
exceeding such means as are well at command, in the businesses of life,
is like building a house upon a rotten foundation, only to involve the
individual himself and many innocent persons, in ruin by the fall. You
may further draw two or three consolatory reflections from my history;
one is, particularly, never to give way to despair, but, under the most
trying circumstances, have trust in God. Another--"


_"That there's a date set, to all
sorrows----
Nothing is everlasting in this world."_


"Before you leave us, I will lend you for perusal some notes I have
taken from time to time, but we will not pursue the subject now, for I
assure you it is sufficiently painful."

Both Mr. Servinton, and his wife, were well informed persons upon
most subjects;--conversation seldom flagged, and I now endeavoured
to change it; although, had it not been for the hint contained in his
last few words, my curiosity was sufficiently excited, to make me wish
to hear more. The next morning, he put into my hands, a packet,
saying--"When you have read this, let me have it again." I
instantly shut myself in my apartment, and commenced the perusal of a
narrative, which did indeed, surprize, instruct, and interest me. When
I returned it the following day, I besought permission to lay before
the Public, the extraordinary detail I had read; but was met by a most
decided negative.

I was too desirous, however, of gaining my point, to be easily
repulsed; and the subsequent arguments I used, were more
successful--ending at length, in my receiving an assent, which has
brought me for the first time, upon the field of literature, as an
Author. I am fully aware of my humble pretensions to this character,
but hope I may at least be considered the means of communicating an
instructive lesson--and will only add, that if others are half so
much affected and interested by the perusal of my tale, as I was by my
acquaintance with one of its most prominent characters, they will
pardon all my defects of style, and heartily thank me, for bringing
them acquainted with Quintus Servinton.

THE AUTHOR





CHAPTER I


"Give me your hand, and let me see
Your future fate, and Heaven's decree."


It was at the beginning of August, 1772, that a gentleman who was
travelling on horseback, across the moors in the neighbourhood of the
Tees, accompanied by a faithful and trusty servant, was met by a troop
of gipsies, the foremost or leader of whom approached, with the view
apparently of accosting him. He was tall and of very erect stature, as
if, in early life, he had been a soldier, and though his ragged and
tattered garments, now bespoke too plainly the ignominy of the calling
he had adopted, there was a certain something in his manner, an air of
superiority in his gait, which commanded respect, in spite of his
habiliments, and denoted full plainly that he had seen better days.

The other members of the party, were a mixed assemblage of old and
young men and women, with some half-naked children; and following at a
little distance in the rear, was an apology for a cart drawn by a
miserable horse, serving as a conveyance for most of the moveables of
the itinerants. At first, Mr. Servinton, for so the gentleman was
named, felt a momentary apprehension, that the property he had about
him, might be endangered by such company--a feeling, not likely to
be greatly relieved, by any dependence he might have upon his attendant
Sam, he being one of those, who think discretion is the better part of
valour; and that, "he who fights and runs away, may live to fight
another day."

Any idea of danger, was however, but transient; for the countenance
of the leader, and his mild and placid manner, were not reconcileable
with the pursuits of persons, disposed to violence; and before the two
parties absolutely met, all perturbation, even on Sam's part, was
removed.

"It's a soft morning, Sir," said the leader, gently doffing a cap,
made of the skin of some animal from which none of the fur had been
taken.

"It is;" replied Mr. Servinton, "but pray, my good folks, which way
are you travelling? for I'll tell you what, 'tis my duty as a Justice
of the Peace, bids me keep the country clear of vagrants, and the
appearance of your troop, seems to bespeak that I shall be obliged to
use my interference, if you think of taking up your quarters in this
neighbourhood."

"Save you, and bless your bonny face," replied one of the females of
the party--"I'm sure, the heart that lies under it, cannot be a
hard one--and we're only going to Carlisle, your Honor, and only
meant to stay in yonder copse for a day or two, till we're a little
rested;--an your Honor will be so kind as to shut your Honor's
eyes till we are gone, I'll tell your Honor's fortune,--and if
'tis like your face, it must be a happy one."

Mr. Servinton was one of those good-natured, unaffected country
Gentlemen, who are an honor to England. The eldest son of a long and
respectable line of ancestry, well educated, accustomed from his
infancy, to mix with persons of the highest rank in his County,
possessing a handsome patrimony in some valuable estates, to which he
had considerably added by purchase, he spent the greatest part of his
time, in the bosom of his family, at a large, old-fashioned hall, near
the village of Lartingham, devoting his chief attention to such
pursuits as usually mark a country life, but relieving their monotony
by indulging a taste for drawing, and an ardent attachment to classic
literature--in both which he was a proficient. With him, the
Commission of the Peace was not made the means of enhancing an
imaginary importance among his neighbours, nor of oppressing the poor
by a vexatious exercise of power; nor, in a word, of ever departing
from the principle of tempering justice with mercy. It therefore was by
no means difficult to persuade him, not to interrupt the proceedings of
his new acquaintances, provided they conducted themselves peaceably and
orderly; nor, as he was not altogether free from curiosity of
disposition, was he inclined to lose the opportunity of learning what
would be pretended to be uttered, as his future destiny. Accordingly,
he briefly addressed the troop, in reply to the appeal that had been
made him, observing that, as they had not been brought before him in
his Magisterial capacity, he would not interfere with them, unless
their own behaviour rendered it necessary; then turning to the female
speaker, and throwing her a sixpence, he said, "Come my good woman;
let's have a trial of your skill--let's know what's to be my
fortune."

The woman, pleased that her request had been granted, and flattered
by the easy familiar tone, by which she had been accosted;--a
tone, always at the command of a true Gentleman, without its being
allowed in reply, immediately stepped forward, and muttering certain
unintelligible words, proceeded to investigate the lines on Mr.
Servinton's palm. Her shrewd dark countenance underwent many changes,
whilst she was making her observations. Sometimes a smile, as of
apparent delight, played around her mouth, and caused her to exhibit a
regular set of teeth, which, contrasted with the general contour of her
face, gave the whole, rather an engaging appearance. At others, her
melancholy, still cast of features, implied that all was not
agreeable--and at one particular moment, a tear came into her
piercing black eye, and filling it quite to overflowing, ran over upon
her cheek, and was immediately succeeded by a smile; which presently
again gave way to tears and sighs; the whole being closed by a laugh,
as of pleasure, a clapping of hands, and an exclamation--"I see it
all! I see it all!--he's happy at last!"

Mr. Servinton, although perfectly free from superstition, and
possessing a strong, well-cultivated mind, could not witness the
passing scene without interest. He desired the woman to explain what
had so affected her; and in reply she addressed him as follows:----


_"Sweets and sours----more sours than
sweets----
A new-born Son your Honor greets;"----_


and then, pausing a little, and assuming a most solemn tone, added,
"Your children will be a score, less two. He who is now entering the
world, will give you as much pleasure, and as much pain, as any of
them--thrice will he be in danger of sudden or violent death--thrice
will he undergo great reverses of fortune--his thrice tenth year will be
the commencing scene of his disasters--when he reaches his fortieth, he
will have passed through all dangers, and will attain a happy and
peaceful old age; but warn him from his cradle of from thirty to forty."

The two parties now separated; Mr. Servinton to proceed to his own
mansion, which was only a few miles distant, and where, he was now
returning, after a months absence, in a neighbouring county, whither he
had gone, according to his annual custom, for the purpose of looking
after his estates, and meeting his tenants. Although an addition to his
already large family, had been expected, he had not yet heard that the
event had taken place; and scarcely allowing himself to think what
weight to attach to the Gipsy's prophecy, opposed as it was to his
conviction of the absurdity of such pretensions to a knowledge of the
future, he could not so far divest himself of it, as to help mentally
feeling that, whether or not, it should influence his mind, would in
some measure depend upon the fulfilment or otherwise, of the first part
of the prediction.

Thus ruminating, he travelled slowly along his way, scarcely
noticing the endeavours made by his attendant every now and then, to
introduce a word edgeways, until at length, Sam, rather elevating his
voice, observed, "I'm thinking, Master, these Witches must be nation
cunning, thus to tell folk's fortunes--I had my fortune told when
I was a young man, and it has all come true."

"Has it?" replied Mr. Servinton, "Pray what might you have been
told, Sam?"

"That I should never be married, Master, for one thing, and that I
should live twenty years in one place for another. As to the first, I
was then courting Margaret Bousfield, but I knew that if I married
against the will of these Witches, and their like, we should have
nothing but trouble, and so I broke off the match--and as for the
other part, your Honor knows how true that has proved."

"You should not call such people Witches, Sam!" said his Master, "they
are Gipsies, and their pretensions to divination, serve only to amuse
the ignorant and vulgar. You did very wrong, to desert a poor girl, upon
such insufficient grounds; there are few things more cruel or more
wicked, than to obtain a woman's affections and then leave her. I had
really thought better of you, than to have believed the stories I
formerly heard, with regard to you and Margaret, and I am doubly sorry
to find them confirmed by yourself, upon so improper a cause, as a
Gipsy's fortune-telling." He then went on to explain to Sam, that
Gipsies abound in all parts of Europe, particularly in Hungary, where
they travel in large bands or hordes like Arabs, gaily dressed in red
and green, and often well armed and mounted. They are every where averse
to regular employment, preferring to lead a rambling, desultory life. In
Prussia, they are sometime enrolled as soldiers, _bon gré, mal gré;_ but
even when disciplined to the use of arms, they never forget their early
habits; nor do they omit seizing every opportunity of showing their
dislike to the service. He was continuing in this manner, further
illustrating his observations by some anecdotes, characteristic of the
race, when he came within sight of Lartingham Hall, the smoke from whose
chimnies, curling as it rose among the trees, was his first welcome
home; nor can there ever be a welcome, that is more grateful to the eyes
of the homeward bound traveller.

Lartingham Hall was a building rather commodious than handsome. It
stood in the centre of a ring fence, inclosing one hundred and twenty
acres, bounded on all sides by a narrow lane, whose hedges, formed of a
great variety of flowering shrubs and trees, were now exhibiting their
several beauties in many different hues and forms. The inclosure had
formerly been a park, but was now divided into several large fields,
those nearest the house being thickly planted with ornamental timber,
in orchards and shrubberies; the house itself, standing in the midst of
a smooth, highly cultivated lawn. At a short distance in the rear, were
extensive and well-arranged kitchen-gardens, hot-houses, and pineries;
and the offices, all which were extremely convenient, were so situated
as scarcely to be perceptible from the parts of the house, usually
inhabited by the family.

Mr. Servinton had been disposed to while away the ideas floating in
his mind in consequence of the occurrence of the morning, and had
therefore the more readily entered into conversation with his servant;
but Sam was at all times a great favorite with his Master--he had
lived with him previous to his marriage--was faithful, and warmly
attached to the family; and, in virtue of these and other claims or
qualifications, had become a sort of _Major domo_ with the other
servants; over whom, as well as the children, he often exercised an
authority, equal at least, if not superior, to that assumed by his
master.

Just as he had rode a few paces forwards, to open the great gate,
leading through a stately avenue of ash-trees to the house, a groom was
seen riding rapidly across the common they had lately passed, wearing
Mr. Servinton's grey livery, and following a gentleman who was pressing
his horse greatly beyond his ordinary speed. As they were proceeding at
a much quicker rate than Mr. Servinton, they were soon sufficiently
near to enable him to discover, that the gentleman was Mr. Bates, Mrs.
Servinton's medical attendant upon occasions that added to her matronly
honours; and the truth at once flashed across his mind, that in one
part, at least, the Gipsy's prediction had been accomplished: and ere
he reached the house he was overtaken by the Doctor, when he was
informed, that about two hours previously, the servant had been sent to
summon him, with orders to spare no haste.

At the hall door was the head nurse, who had the almost unlimited
control of the numerous young progeny, waiting full of smiles and
simpers, to announce that her dear Mistress had been complaining early
in the forenoon; that although James had been immediately dispatched
for Mr. Bates, a fine healthy boy had been born long before he could
have reached his destination; and that both mother and son "were doing
as well as could be expected."

So soon as his feelings, alike of agitation and agreeable surprise,
were a little subsided, Mr. Servinton retired to his room, full of deep
musings upon the singular occurrence that had preceded the birth of
this, his fifth son. He was a most affectionate husband, and truly fond
of his children; but a birth was so regularly an annual, that much of
the charm of the infantine hours of offspring was deadened by its
constant recurrence; and it was observed, by the acquaintances of the
family, as a mark of character rather surprising in a man of his
disposition, that his attachment to his children was comparatively
little developed, until they advanced towards puberty, when he became
the fondest of parents.

If the untoward events that happen to most of us, in our passage
through life, be traced to their true and legitimate source, they will
but too frequently, be found to owe their origin to certain defects of
early education. We very commonly see parents almost totally
indifferent as to what impressions their children receive; what
associations they form; or what habits they acquire during their
infancy, fondly thinking, that it is ample time as yet, to correct any
evil propensity they may acquire; and full early, to practise any
restraint upon the childs engaging follies. We thus observe parents,
who in after life, cannot do enough for their children, negatively
correct only, in their conduct towards them, so long as they continue
in the nursery; forgetting Solomon's proverb respecting the training up
of youth, and adopting the very course which their good sense and
usually right notions, would have led them to reprobate in their
neighbours. The sequel will demonstrate whether or not there is a
possibility, that any part of these observations are borne out by the
system of education, adopted in the family, to whose acquaintance the
Reader is now introduced.

Shortly after Mr. Servinton had withdrawn to his own room, or
library as it was commonly called, a tap at the door announced Mr.
Bate, who had just left the lady of the house and her child, both
"doing remarkably well." Mr. Servinton, in the course of conversation,
narrated the events of the forenoon, and inquired the Doctor's opinion
upon them. "'Pon my honour, and under correction, Sir," he replied, "I
am inclined always to view such events as proceeding from nothing more
nor less than an illusion of the brain, bespeaking great irritability
of the system, and for which, no better treatment can be applied, than
a plentiful application of the cat o'nine tails, after an immersion in
a horse-pond. In other words, Sir, I think you would have consulted
your dignity as a Magistrate, if you had committed the whole posse
comitatus to the County Bridewell, instead of allowing them to talk to
you,--but I speak under correction."

"That would have been rather severe to unoffending persons," replied
Mr. Servinton, "but, however, we will not discuss the question at
present. Perhaps on another occasion, I may adduce arguments, which may
lead you to a different view of the question. I am now anxious to see
my boy, whose destiny is foretold to be so chequered, and also his
excellent Mother. I assure you I attach no importance to the affair,
but I think 'twill be as well to make a memorandum of what has happened
this morning, as it may serve for reflection hereafter."

"Unquestionably, Sir, and under correction," was proceeding Mr.
Bate, when the door opened, and it was announced to Mr. Servinton, that
his lady wished to see him.

As he mounted the wide handsome staircase, that led to the upper
apartments, he was ruminating whether or not, he should acquaint his
wife, with any part of what had occurred, and was approaching, as a
matter of course, the door of the usual bed-chamber, when he was told
by the servant in attendance, that her Mistress was occupying the
chintz room, as she had been so suddenly taken ill, that her own, was
not in readiness. He said nothing, but a different room having been
used for this, his eleventh child, to that in which all the others had
drawn their first breath, struck him for the moment, as rather fresh
cause for wonder.

It has been already said that, he was naturally of a very affectionate
disposition, and, if the interview with his wife, had not now taken
place, under the interesting circumstances that attended it, the mere
fact of a month's absence, would have rendered a first meeting, an event
of considerable influence upon his feelings. Advancing to the bedside,
and kindly saluting her, he said but little at the moment, so much was
he overcome by conflicting emotions, but gently retaining her hand, his
eloquent countenance plainly bespoke the ardour of his attachment. Mrs.
Servinton, equally glad to see him, returned his caresses in the placid,
quiet way by which she was distinguished, and then observed,--"I'm sure
Mr. Servinton, mine is a dreadful life--no sooner one child can walk,
than there's another in arms--I'm sure I hope none of my daughters will
ever marry--they little know what they would have to go through.--We
have another boy.--I really thought four were quite enough, and I don't
know what we shall do with any more.--However, I have hired a good
wet-nurse, and I hope the child will do well."

"I hope so, indeed, my dear Charlotte.--Mrs. Caudle told me it
was a fine healthy boy, and you know, my love, we must take what
Providence sends us, and be grateful.--I should like to see the
child; can I do so?"

"Yes, certainly; I believe the infant is well enough--much like
other children. I dare say, if he had been our first, I might have
thought him a fine boy; but really, I'm now so used to them, that I see
very little difference in their appearance.--They are all much
alike, only some are more noisy than others--however, you can step
into the dressing-room, and look at the little fellow;--and
afterwards, I will see you again." Tenderly bidding her adieu for the
present, he withdrew and repaired to the apartment where his newborn
son had been placed; and whom he contemplated, if not with all the
rapture that attends an only child, at least with strong parental
feelings.

In the course of a few days, the accouchement chamber was
sufficiently freed of its restraints to allow full and general
conversation; and, upon one of these occasions, he introduced the story
of his adventure with the Gipsies. "I am really surprised;" said Mrs.
Servinton, who had patiently listened through the whole of it, and had
gathered from her husband's tone and manner that it had made some
impression upon his mind. "I am really surprised, Mr. Servinton, that
you could attach the least importance to such nonsense. They must have
thought you exceedingly weak, to dare take such a liberty with
you--they are nothing but impostors--and I must say, their
allusion to our large family, is the height of impertinence, and what I
beg, may not be repeated--I have no desire to be made the laughing
stock of my neighbours."

"I'll tell you what 'tis, Charlotte"--replied her husband, in a
good humoured tone--"you make much too serious a matter of it, to
talk thus--and as for being a laughing-stock, many married persons
are very improperly ridiculed when they have no children, but I never
knew this the case, where Heaven was bountiful in sending them; and all
I can say is, I shall have no objection to see the prediction fulfilled
in this respect, as correctly as it was, with regard to Quintus's
birth."

"I'm sure I hope no such thing.--It is quite high time, that we
should do something towards providing for those we already have, for
our estate, although considerable, will not support half a dozen idle
young men, and there is nothing like looking out early. If we are to
have tutors and governesses to pay and maintain, you had need endeavour
to take some steps towards improving our income; for otherwise, I fear
the children will come badly off."

Mrs. Servinton was a well-educated, highly-connected Lady, who had
brought her husband a good fortune, and who added to these claims for
favor and attention, great skill in managing her house-hold, all parts
of which, were ever in capital order. She was particularly careful to
procure trusty servants, to whose charge the children were confided;
and the least neglect in their personal economy, such as disregard of
cleanliness, or putting on a tattered garment, was certain to attract
her notice and excite her displeasure; but, if such points as these
were well attended to, and no unusual noise or disturbance took place
in the nursery, her interference or authority was seldom exercised,
every thing being conducted with the regularity of clock-work. Great
prudence was one of her distinguishing features; and, whether or not
she attached more weight to the Gipsy's prophecy than she chose to
acknowledge, or, whether she considered that, judging by the past,
nothing was more probable, than that, so far as it regarded the
eighteen children, it might be fulfilled, certain it is, her worldly
wisdom induced her to press warmly upon her husband's consideration,
the necessity of taking some steps, towards bettering their
fortune.

After some further discussion, it was agreed, that Mr. Servinton
should consult his professional friend, Mr. Briefless, who was a
Lawyer, residing in a neighbouring town, and well acquainted with most
people's business; and that, if any thing desirable offered, it should
be acted upon. Letters were also written to some of Mrs. Servinton's
relations, who, being eminent Merchants and Bankers in London, might be
supposed to have opportunities of promoting the desired object.

Mr. Briefless was a Gentleman, who had been bred to the bar; but
after being admitted had acquired so confirmed a habit of stuttering,
or rather hesitation, when attempting to speak in Public, that after
several ineffectual endeavours to overcome it, he was obliged to
relinquish that branch of the profession, and eventually settled as a
plain country Attorney. He was an upright, honorable man, but endowed
with remarkable obstinacy; which, unfortunately for his family, was
particularly shewn in the management of his own affairs. Between him
and Mr. Servinton, a strict intimacy had long existed; and in relying
in a great measure upon his counsel, in the weighty affairs that now
occupied his attention, there was the double assurance of friendship,
and a mature experience in business, that he might do so with safety.
This important step being thus decided, the turn it gave to the
domestic affairs of the family, soon assumed such a shape, as
altogether to dismiss for a time, from the minds of most of its
members, all recollection of so trifling an incident as the Gipsy's
prophecy.

In consequence of the measures so taken, it was not long, until Mr.
Briefless introduced to Mr. Servinton a Mr. Petrie, one of the firm of a
long established Bank in the town of D----, who were desirous of
strengthening their resources by an increase of capital and connexion;
and with whom a negotiation was accordingly commenced.

It was not altogether without a struggle, that some of the dirty
acres, which had for ages descended from father to son, were now
proposed to be alienated from their possessor, with the view of raising
the sum that was at length agreed upon, as Mr. Servinton's contribution
to the funds of the house. Although nobility had never grafted any of
its scions on his family tree, there was a degree of pride felt, upon
turning over the legendary tales of the achievements of heroes, long
since mingled with the dust,--notwithstanding they had not risen
higher than to be the esquire to his more exalted companion in
arms,--or in reading the tender love stories of some of the Ladies
of other days, who had been raised to the rank of Dames, partly as a
tribute to their charms, and partly to their respectable lineage.
Certain events also, were instilled into the ears of the children by
their ever zealous nursery attendants, almost so soon as they could
understand any thing, tending to aggrandize in their infant minds the
importance of their parents; such as that, a Richard de Servinton was
one of three only, who were able to extract the sabre from the block of
wood, into which, during the reign of King John, it had been struck by
a renowned Baron de Courcy; another, the creating one of the ancestors
of the family a Bannerett, for his gallant conduct at Cressy, in virtue
of which honor, Mr. Servinton in his right of primogeniture, wore as a
dexter supporter to his ancient Coat of Arms, a Man in Armour, which
was always specially pointed out on the carriage-door by the old
coachman to his young Masters; another, how, during the wars preceding
the Commonwealth, a sturdy member of the name, had been one of
twenty-four country Gentlemen who had signed a round-robin letter of
remonstrance to King Charles the First, and afterwards, raised and
maintained at his sole expense, in support of the Parliamentary forces,
a well equipped troop of horse. When again, the children were shewn a
number of old portraits, hanging around the grand entrance hall, the
men dressed in armour, or in the costume of former days from the Norman
Conquest downwards, and the women's faces almost lost in hoods, or in
the tremendous display of ruffs, caps, and lace, peculiar to the age,
their shapes being almost entirely concealed by immense hoops, the
servants were sure to magnify the fame of these personages, by a
hundred imaginary tales, confounding all they had ever heard upon such
subjects, with the beings who were thus represented on canvas.

So averse indeed, was Mr. Servinton to lose the fee simple of
property derived from this ancient heritage, that after much
deliberation, he finally resolved to raise the money that was necessary
by mortgage, rather than sale, and not even the strong recommendations
he received from his wife's London relatives, who, with a true
mercantile spirit, urged an absolute disposal, upon the ground that
property was always better for changing hands, and that his had been
long enough in one family, could induce him to depart from the plan he
thus determined to adopt.

All preliminaries being at length adjusted, his name was added to
the firm of Petrie & Co., taking precedence of the other
partners--this having been considered a distinction, equally due
to him on account of his property, as of his family connexions.

Shortly afterwards it was thought advisable that he should have a
town establishment, and in this manner was the first step taken towards
departing from the characteristics, that had for centuries marked the
name of Servinton. Nor was it long ere it proceeded to others, tending
in the end entirely to deprive it of what had so long constituted its
pride and stability.

Meanwhile, the general routine of the family went on much as before,
only that Mr. Servinton was absent from home more than formerly, in
attendance upon his new occupations; for the idea of being what is
called a sleeping partner, was deservedly reprobated by his friends;
and although he had not been brought up to business, his education, his
fine understanding, and general attainments, were justly considered
sufficient qualifications towards enabling him to acquire a full
knowledge of the principles and routine, necessary for conducting a
country bank.





CHAPTER II


"Yea, this man's brow, like to a title leaf,
Foretels the nature of a tragic volume."

SHAKESPEARE


Notwithstanding that Mr. Servinton's name had many years stood in
the Commission of the Peace, he seldom or never attended to Public
business, greatly disliking every thing connected with pomp or parade;
but it so happened that about a year and a half after the commencement
of this narrative, he was at the county town, at the time the Sessions
were held, when he one morning entered the Court, and took his seat
upon the Bench, at the right of the Chairman.

Among the prisoners for trial, were a man and woman, charged with
stealing poultry. The evidence for the prosecution, seemed clear and
decisive; and the Chairman having addressed them, enquiring what they
had to say in their defence, the man sullenly replied, "Nothing;" but
the woman, raising her voice, exclaimed, "That bonny Gentleman on the
your right, your Worship, kens that we are peaceable, honest folks, and
will give us a character."

All eyes were immediately directed towards Mr. Servinton, who being
so pointedly appealed to, looked at the prisoners with more attention
than he had before paid them, and presently recognised the Gipsy
acquaintance, who had told his fortune.

So sudden and unexpected an appeal, threw him for the moment, off
his usual composure, and he scarcely knew what reply to make the
Chairman, who, in the easy and familiar style, that one Gentleman uses
in addressing another, had enquired if he knew any thing of these
people? To recount what had really passed, might not be very agreeable,
as it was calculated to excite merriment at his expense, in a Public
Court; and to relate that he had given a troop of vagrants, permission
to sojourn in his neighbourhood, might possibly subject him to an
implied censure, which, as a Magistrate, he would rather have avoided.
The Chairman, interpreting his hesitation of reply, unfavorably to the
prisoners, asked the woman rather sharply, what she meant by singling
out a Gentleman on the Bench, to speak to her character, who it was
quite clear knew nothing about her?

"A'nt please your Honor's Worship," replied the woman, "the
Gentleman kens me well enough--and he kens how true I told his
Honor's fortune last year."

"Told the Gentleman's fortune!" said the Chairman, rather enjoying
his brother Magistrate's increased confusion--"When and where, did
you see this Gentleman? and what has it to do with the present
case?"

"Last summer twelvemonth, your Honor's Worship, we met the Gentleman
on Middleton moorside, and I told him his fortune for letting us stay a
day or two in the woods near his Honor's house."

"And pray what fortune did you predict for the Gentleman? and how is
it, that you could not at the same time foresee your own, and have kept
out of this scrape? for I have heard nothing yet, which at all leads me
to think you can escape punishment."

"His Honor kens well enough how true I told his fortune. Did I not
say--"


_"Sweets and sours--more sours than
sweets--
A new-born Son, your Honor greets;"_


"And has he not found it so? Has not what he has since done, brought
more sours than sweets already; and will it not do so hereafter? Has
not one more of the eighteen bairns already been born? and is not
another expected? The Gentleman, your Honor, kens me well enough, and
if he will but speak out, he will say, that I am a woman who speaks the
truth, and that your Honor may believe me, when I tell your Honor's
Worship, that we are innocent of what we are charged with."

So appealed to, Mr. Servinton briefly explained the incident that
had befallen him, but unfortunately for the prisoners, could say
nothing more in their favor, than that, he knew neither good nor harm
of them--that as no charge had been made against them, he had not
refused to comply with the dictates of humanity, and as both themselves
and their horse, appeared in a very miserable condition, he had allowed
them to stay a day or two in his neighbourhood. So far therefore as his
testimony went, it had no influence upon the verdict of the Jury,
which, being returned guilty, they were sentenced to three month's
imprisonment; but, as regarded himself, the adventure served for years
afterwards, as a standing joke with some of his friends, and upon each
future addition to his family, "Success to the Gipsy's prophecy," was a
kind of toast or watchword, as the best bin was resorted to, or the
barrel of strong beer tapped, to drink health and increasing honors to
the founders of the feast; and when, in process of time, the birth of
the ninth daughter, completed the sybilick number of eighteen, Sam, who
by that time had became grey in his Master's service, said, with a
knowing expression, when descanting upon the subject to his
fellow-servants, "I knew 'twould be so--I knew 'twould be so, and
though Master was very angry about Margaret Bousfield, I'd as lief
marry the devil, as marry her or any body else, after my fortune had
been told as it was--I knew 'twould be so, and as for Master
Quintus, whoever lives to see it, will see a good deal. Poor little
Gentleman, he is the quietest and best of 'em all. He has none of the
tricks of t'other young Masters, who are always in mischief, but all
his delight is in reading, or in being with William the gardener. Ah!
poor lad! he little thinks what he's born to; but long before his
troubles begin, old Sam's will be ended--but he'll never want
friends."

If the accidental meeting of the Gipsy at Durham, had not renewed in
Mr. Servinton's mind, some of its original impressions, Quintus might
have passed through the early stages of his life, and excepting when
the subject was now and then introduced by such conversations as this
between the servants, the prediction that had attended his birth, would
have been altogether forgotten; the reminiscence so excited, was
however, but transient, and although the affair was still occasionally
mentioned, it merely served to create fun and laughter, entirely losing
any tendency to reflection.

In the mean time, Quintus, after leaving his nurse's arms, went
through the several gradations of childhood, much as usual in large
families. His mother was one of those good Ladies, who, as before said,
pay the most scrupulous attention to the conduct of their servants with
respect to children; nor perhaps, could an objection be taken to her
general system, unless it be that, it embraced a more rigid confinement
to the precincts of the nursery, than by some, is thought advisable.
Once only each day were they admitted to the parlour, which was always
immediately that the cloth was removed after dinner, when the whole
troop, nicely washed and combed, marched in full procession, forming
steps similar to those of a staircase--the rear being invariably
brought up by the head nurse, with the infant in arms, for the
time-being.

With all the excellent qualities of head and heart possessed by his
parents, there were many points connected with the management of their
children, wherein they differed from certain maxims that have lately
obtained, sanctioned by such authorities as Miss Edgeworth, Madame de
Genlis, and others. Mrs. Servinton was a kind and attentive mother, and
the children were much and deservedly attached to her. She took great
pains to personally instruct them in all the rudiments of education,
but followed one course rather too indiscriminately, and adopted the
same system of discipline with one and all the little ones; not
perhaps, paying quite sufficient regard to age, temper, and general
disposition. As to Mr.

Servinton, he was beloved by his neighbours and tenants, esteemed by
his friends, and regarded with much affection by all his relatives, but
he did not understand how to treat children; a slight fault, would
produce anger, which it would have been thought could not have had its
seat in his breast--this often made the child look at him with
fear and apprehension, and rather to rejoice at his absence, than
presence; but these flashes were of short duration, and, as if he felt
that he had sometimes spoken or acted too harshly, he not unfrequently
let them be succeeded by extraordinary marks of kindness.

The infant mind, is however, too tender and susceptible, to
understand, or to safely receive these sudden transitions. It may
generally be moulded at will, by mild treatment, accompanied by
temperate firmness; but the instances are very rare, where severity,
softened of some of its painful effects by subsequent indulgence, does
not produce many more bad, than good consequences.

As Quintus advanced towards his fourth or fifth year, he evinced
considerable aptness at learning, and little books, containing tales and
stories, were his chief delight. He was inclined at times to be rather
petulant, but was nevertheless much liked by his elder sisters, on
account of his general docility; and they accordingly took pains in
giving him such instruction as was suitable to his age. His elder
brothers were of a different disposition--quite as quick at learning, to
say the least--but much more prone to mischief--ever ready at boyish
roguishness--nothing pleasing them so much as to witness any ludicrous
disaster, occasioned by their waggish tricks and contrivances. It
sometimes happened, that when complaints of their misbehaviour reached
their father, all the boys were included in the summary punishment
awarded for the offence of one; and thus Quintus, more than once, came
in for a dose of birch, rather in anticipation of what he might do wrong
hereafter, than for any misdeed already committed.

As one consequence of such discipline, before he had attained his
eight year, he had imbibed a fear and alarm at the presence of his
father, that induced him to adopt a habit of concealment, which
afterwards increased with his growth. Having been often punished
undeservedly, he endeavoured to escape by cunningly invented stories,
when it was really merited; but, as a proof that this was rather
acquired, than natural, he would always readily acknowledge every thing
to the sisters who possessed his love and confidence, and who by this
means, were enabled to counteract much of its injurious effects.

At this period, the mode of education adopted for Mr. Servinton's
sons, was by a private tutor, resident at the hall; but experience had
not recommended its being continued, and it had been determined to
substitute for it, public schools for the elder boys, and a good
private seminary at the neighbouring town of D----, for
Quintus; purposing, after a year or two, that he also should follow the
example, set in the instance of his brothers.

The arrangements consequent upon this change, being perfected,
Quintus was inducted as one of the Rev. Mr. Knowall's pupils, with very
little regret on his part; as even at an early age, the restlessness of
the human mind, is shewn in numberless instances; ever fancying, what
is in anticipation, will be more agreeable than that, already
possessed.

It had been settled that as Mr. Servinton's town residence was a
short distance from the school, and was under the charge of an old and
trusty house-keeper, Quintus should be what is called a day boarder; so
as to be constantly under the eye of his father, or whoever else of the
family happened from time to time, to be in town.

In this manner, he spent his two or three succeeding years, making
very tolerable progress in his education, and growing in favouritism
with his preceptors, who took considerable pains to improve the
naturally good abilities he manifested. But this plan was objectionable
in one respect, however good it might have appeared in others; for it
drove a boy of tender age, to the alternative, either of spending a
considerable portion of his time in absolute solitude, or of seeking
such society as was inconsistent with his parents' station in life; and
it would have been no wonder, if, in process of time, the evil had
become apparent.

But it fortunately happened, that before any ill consequences were
in this case matured, other circumstances arose, which affected Mr.
Servinton's arrangements for his boys, and greatly removed the latent
mischief attending the course hitherto pursued with respect to Quintus.
His eldest brother had just attained his twentieth year; and, upon
leaving College, it was Mr. Servinton's anxious desire to have him
instructed in business, with the view of qualifying him to become a
partner in the Bank. Two objects, upon each of which he had strongly
set his heart, were connected with this plan--the one, to preserve
to his family a preponderating influence in a concern which had,
hitherto, fully answered all its original expectations; and the other,
that he might himself devote less time to occupations he disliked, and
return to those, rendered by long habit more congenial to his
inclination. But Horace Servinton had imbibed different notions from
his childhood. From the very moment he could run alone, he had