The Shellback's Progress / In the Nineteenth Century

by Baron Walter Runciman Runciman

When Burnside was having a stroll one morning with a little fellow of four years old, who was chattering to him about his services, Squire Humbert came upon them, stopped, and snappishly asked what he meant by disturbing the whole district with such ranting nonsense.

"I tell you," said he, "it must cease, or I will ask you to leave the place."

Burnside withered him with a gaze that betrayed his feelings, and began:

"Sir, you may ask me to leave the village, but you may not ask me to cease serving my God in the way I choose. Now, sir, listen. You have been accustomed to talk to your village servants in a way that is insufferable. I am not one of them, and if I were I should resent your doing so to me. I must ask you to carry out your threat, and when I get your communication I shall give you my definite answer. Meanwhile never you attempt to insult me or make an attack upon my religion again. And bear in mind that I refuse to allow you to be the controller of it. Good morning."

The dignified "Lord God the Squire" gasped with suppressed fury, but that which he wished to utter was unutterable, and he rode off in the direction of his hall. Burnside told his wife what had transpired. She commended him for the manner in which he had treated it, though both she and the family were filled with concern lest the threat of turning them out of their home should be carried out. It made an everlasting impression on all the family, but especially so on the little fellow who heard all that was said. He never got over the cruel, senseless stab, and I have reason to believe it lives with him still. Burnside regarded the whole thing with contempt, and continued his religious services as though nothing had happened. Mr Logan, the parson, not long after called to see him, and Burnside drew him into discussion on Theology. He was a great student of Bishop Butler's "Analogy," and was familiar with the writings of other theologians. The parson was amazed at the plain man's strong logical instincts, the keen fluency of his talk, and the fulness of his knowledge, and so enjoyed the conversation that he asked if he might hope to have a further opportunity of having another discussion. "Come any day you like except Sundays," said the unconventional old sailor, "and I may assure you it will give me great pleasure." They parted with feelings of growing respect for each other. The parson evidently made some weighty communication to Mr Humbert, as that gentleman's attitude towards Burnside soon underwent a marked change, and this was shown by his commencing to chat whenever they met. It was not long before they were on the most cordial terms. The squire found that Burnside was not only a powerful religionist but a strong personality. His reading was very wide, and his knowledge and conversational gifts made him an attractive man to come in contact with. Humbert had evidently seen it to be unwise to meddle with his religion any more, and his friendship for him soon became apparent, for instead of carrying out the threat of putting him off his estate, he offered him a better house to live in, with a large plot of ground attached to it. The offer was gratefully accepted, but this did not in any way interfere with the steady progress of the propaganda, and in a few years the character of the men and women who would have thrown him into the sea when he first came amongst them changed from hatred into affection. Gambling, drunkenness, wife-beating, profanity, all had disappeared.

As soon as his sons were old enough they left the district, and ere long some of them were heard of in the metropolis of England, and had succeeded in carving out distinguished careers for themselves. Two of them gladdened the old man's heart by choosing the sea as a profession, but no discrimination in point of affection was ever shown, though when he heard the hoarse moaning of the wind on troubled nights, he never failed to put in a supplementary prayer for his two seafarers. He had passed through the dangers himself, and had a steadfast belief that close communion with God was a strong safeguard against disaster. The homecoming of these sailor lads, who frequently brought friends with them, was a great joy to the Burnsides, and also to those of the villagers with whom they associated. Both lads were very sailorly, and it was well known that they never failed to make things hum with mirth and mischief, as soon as they had taken their bearings and found the coast clear of "squires" and "parsons." It was a pretty sight to see their two sisters rush out of the house as soon as their brothers were seen in the distance crossing the long stretch of moor and run to meet and fondly greet them. This had been one of the fundamental points in their training, that they were to be affectionate to each other, and lengthened separation did not diminish the well instilled habit. But the joy of the young people's meeting was only second to that of seeing their reunion with their parents, and great were Mrs Burnside's bewildering exploits of cookery. The first night was generally spent in telling queer stories of their skippers, mates and shipmates, whilst the father sat smiling placidly and obviously living over again his youthful days when he also was a sailor lad relating the same kind of stories in the same old way. The girls asked all sorts of questions, and the merry babble was kept up until Mrs Burnside reminded her husband that it was long past the usual time for prayers, and that they had better postpone the narrative until the morrow. A chapter suitable for the occasion was given out, and they read verse and verse about until they reached the end of the lesson. Then they knelt round the table and listened to the tremulous tones of their father's prayer. When he had finished they all repeated after him the Lord's Prayer and then rose. At one of these reunited gatherings one of the brothers had been restless, and persisted in nudging his sisters and winking at them when his parent had reached his most impressive periods and was oblivious of everything but his communion with God. The scamp was taken aside by the younger sister, who was a strong-minded little damsel with fixed ideas, and she sharply reproved him for his irreverence; and the elder sister, who had a keen sense of humour as well as fixed opinions, was so thankful that the boys had been brought safely back to them, she commenced to make the most comical excuses for their erring brother's buoyant indiscretion. The young man's contrition was signified by his taking hold of his sisters, waltzing them round the room, and then proceeding to stand on his head and dangling his legs in the air. This threw them into fits of laughter, and though it was against the rules of the home, the joyous chatter was resumed and continued until long past the regulated time for going to bed. When I hear people ridiculing religion and its forms, I think of those simple days of village methodism with a throbbing of the heart.

There were coteries in this small out-of-the-way place as there are in large towns and cities, and perhaps the exclusiveness was even more pronounced there than in the larger centres. The fisher people were a class by themselves, with whom the squire's employés thought it beneath their dignity to be on regular visiting terms. They married and intermarried amongst themselves, while Mr Humbert's servants were a mixed class. Some had intellectual ambitions and rare musical talents, and others had not; and it was amongst the former that the Burnsides found something in common. Their home gathered up all the more cultured part of the population. But apart from that, every young and old person in the village was known to the others. The well was situated a good distance from the cottages, and the girls of the village generally had to carry the water to their homes either because there were no sons or because they were employed elsewhere; but if any of them were about, the lassie with the burden was always offered help, and rarely refused it. When the two young sailors came home they made a point of insisting on carrying water for any young girl they by chance saw at the fountain, hence they increased their popularity and were sought after for that reason as well as for the fact of their being rollicking sailors. In fact, it seemed as though the little circle were of one family. The day following the home-coming from any given voyage was spent in formally calling upon their friends, and in the evening all the young people gathered up at their home to have tea, and afterwards dancing, singing, talking, and all kinds of games. Of course the sailors were called upon to do some step-dancing, and so the happy days and evenings sped on until the time came to prepare to set off on a long voyage. Then for several days previous to their departure the house was full each afternoon of voluntary helpers, washing, making shirts, knitting stockings, and making all kinds of underclothing. Things were kept moving in such a lively way when these young seafarers were about, that a feeling of desolation depressed the whole village for many days after they had left it.

Yet amid all the simple charm of the people and the natural beauty of the place there came a period of sorrowing and grief. The motherless daughter of an official of the Lord of the Manor, a beautiful girl who was the idol of her family and loved by everybody, fell a victim to the villainy of her father's assistant to whom she was engaged to be married; he betrayed her and then left the village, and no one could trace his whereabouts. When her condition became apparent, her father alone failed to realize her true state until he received a note from his master to have her removed from his estate, and with brutal severity the squire insisted that she should never be allowed to stain the purity of his grounds by her presence again, nor could he permit any intercourse whatever between her and any of his servants either male or female, direct or indirect. The father was brokenhearted, and indeed the whole community were stricken with grief for her and for him. She was removed to a town a few miles away and then gave birth to a male child. The father in his thoughtless anger left her to the callous mercy of an inexperienced person, and through want of proper care consumption set in, and the shadow of doom swiftly encompassed her. A burning remorse was charring her to pieces. She craved the forgiveness of her parent, and longed to see the home she had been ruthlessly turned away from. This desire was intensified by a passion to feel the thrilling of the sea winds that came from the moaning ocean. What insufferable cruelty to refuse the appeal of a sweet girl who had been wronged, and who was passing from earth and would soon be put to rest in a grave within easy reach of the springy links and glossy sands where so many days of her joyous girlhood had been spent in innocent and jovial scenes! A last appeal was made to the hard old squire, who, to do him justice, believed he was an instrument in the hands of divine Providence to enforce the cultivation and carrying out of high ideals. Human fallibility was not sanctioned on his demesne outside his own personality or household. The poor, grief-stricken girl wrote to him hoping that her wishes might become known to his wife and touch her to have compassion, and her plan succeeded, for on receipt of her letter permission was given to have her brought home. Here is the simple, pleading request:

"Sir,—I ask you for pity's sake to forgive me and allow a poor girl who is humbly and bitterly penitent, wrecked in body and soul, to be taken from here to her father's home so that she may seek forgiveness of him before she is called to appear before her God. I have only a few weeks at the most left to me, and then I shall pass from the scene of conflict and grief into that long sleep which never endeth.

"I am, yours obediently,