CHAPTER XXVI
CONTINUATION OF THE MEMOIR, UNTIL THE DEATH OF MR. SHIPP.
The military career, traced in the preceding pages, has probably never been surpassed either in homely, affecting narrative, or in thrilling scenes of war and strife, by that of any soldier of modern times. That Shipp did not rise more rapidly to the dizzy heights of a hero's ambition, in a much shorter time, may reasonably be attributed to the age in which he served, as well as to the peculiar regulations of our service, than to any deficiency of fitness, ability, courage, or even notoriety on his part. In the English army, all the avenues to preferment are generally so crowded by aspirants of merit and influence, and so jealously guarded by the legislature, that the best and most valuable soldiers—men whose services acquire a very early distinction—scarcely ever rise from the ranks to the elevation which Shipp twice attained by his gallantry and soldiership. And it was the consciousness of this fact, and the marked departure from the rigid rules of the service, in the instance of his individual promotion, that rendered him so resigned and submissive, under the heavy blow which his own temerity subsequently inflicted upon him. Had his destiny enabled him to steer past the siren pleasures that too often interrupt the path of men possessing power, distinction, and popularity, it is more than probable that, instead of being permitted to retire without any public brand of disgrace upon his brow, into the obscurity of a private station, he would have attained the highest rank in the British army, and have been conspicuous, like Collingwood, not only for winning victories more gloriously, but for describing them to his countrymen more perspicuously than any military man of the age he lived in. It is not in this little autobiography, written in so terse, agreeable, and piquant a manner, that the brilliant exploits of Shipp would have been sought for: the brightness of that page of history which recorded them, would alone have secured the publicity of his renown. Few ever possessed, more eminently, all the elements essential to success as a soldier. Unimpeachable bravery, unwavering perseverance, cool fortitude, and determined steadiness of purpose, were amongst the most conspicuous of his attributes; and to these we may add an inexhaustible energy of mind. Endowments of this nature are not often combined with clearness of judgment, or with that discretion which cautiously avoids the precipice. But if Shipp had not always his judgment entirely at command—which frequently results from a habit of decision and promptitude, mistaken by many for impetuosity—he was always fertile in resources, quick in expedients, and any errors arising from his first impulses were amply amended by the energy and skill with which he ultimately fulfilled every tittle of the duty intrusted to him.
When John Shipp stood upon the parade at Chatham, in the October of 1825, he was, as he has himself informed us, performing the last of his military duties. We have already seen with what feelings he bade adieu to "the plumed troop and the big war"—to the profession which had been the choice of his childhood and the pride of his riper years—amid which he had grown and flourished; and, when he had resigned his command to the officer of Fort Pitt Barrack, he wandered forth into the world a melancholy man, because no longer a soldier. His military career was thus finished, as he truly foreboded, for ever. That eventful and not inglorious campaign of his existence, of which he has given so vivid an account, was at an end, and he was now alone in the world, destitute of occupation, and without immediate aim or object. Hitherto, his life had been a romance, the various vicissitudes whereof forcibly verify the adage, that "truth is stranger than fiction." Though the reader will have henceforth to regard him as a mere civilian, his movements confined to his native island, where stirring incidents and dashing adventures are not rife, yet the details of his remaining years are not entirely destitute of interest and instruction.
Although the first and natural feeling of the gallant ex-lieutenant, at the contemplation of his position, was one of deep despondency, yet the manliness of his nature forbid a tame submission to vain and bootless melancholy. He had before risen superior to the oppression of that gloomy goddess. His energies soon rallied, and the innate fortitude of his character came to his aid. He was furnished with excellent credentials from those officers with whom he had served; and, having taken up his residence in the metropolis, he set himself sedulously to work to procure employment. At first he was elated with hope, from the numerous promises which he received, and the kindness and urbanity with which his pretensions were entertained. He soon found, however, that there was a difference between professions and practice—between hospitality and active benevolence.
Amongst the first applications which he made, was one to the Court of Directors of the East India Company, setting forth his services in India, the wounds which he had received, and his other claims on their favourable consideration. This application was successful; for, though the Directors were unable to confer on him any appointment, they generously granted him a pension of fifty pounds a year, for life, commencing from the preceding Christmas. This honourable allowance was sufficient to keep him above actual want; but, with the habits which he had imbibed in a land where extravagance and luxury are almost regarded as virtues, it was insufficient to keep him out of difficulties. He was himself well aware, and willing to allow on all occasions, that his chief failing was improvidence. Nor was he really extravagant; but he possessed little knowledge of the value of money, and was as prodigal of that essential commodity as if his supplies had been unlimited. His generosity was so unbounded, that he has often been known to recompense moderate services with a liberality wholly beyond his rank or means. The resources derived from the India House soon failing, he renewed his exertions to obtain employment, but still without success. Remembering that the story of his life was full of interest, and having determined upon telling it to the public, he turned himself with great perseverance to his new occupation, and in a short time became fired with all the ambition of an expectant author. As he was, however, naturally doubtful of his own powers, he submitted his manuscripts to the revision of a gentleman every way well qualified for the task, and who performed it with equal judgment, good taste, and ability. This sanguine temperament now led him to indulge in many a golden dream of the profits of authorship; an error that occasioned more profuse expenditure than he would, even with his acknowledged lack of worldly prudence, have deemed excusable.
It was while he was under the delusion of this phantom—the expectation of competent means from literary labours solely—that he thought of submitting a second time to the bonds of Hymen; and the interesting and amiable object of his affections has shown sufficiently the wisdom of his choice, by her exemplary conduct and virtuous life, when placed in circumstances painful, difficult, and trying. The only available means of support under the increased expenditure that attended his married state, was his pension from the India House—his chief prospective supply, the result of his publications. As an author he displayed invention and quickness; and the rapidity with which his works of fiction appeared, was not less extraordinary than the imagination which they displayed. In 1826 he published "The Shepherdess of Arranville; or, Father and Daughter;" a pathetic tale in three acts; and, in 1829, "The Maniac of the Pyrenees; or, the Heroic Soldier's Wife;" a melodrama in two acts, printed at Brentford. The success of these light works, however, was inferior to that of his Memoirs, which soon became extensively popular, and have continued to gather favour with each added year. This reputation resulted, not more from the exciting nature of the details, than the freshness, rapidity, and air of candour, that pervades the whole. Shipp certainly derived advantage from the advice and assistance of an experienced and talented literary friend; but the vigour, playfulness, and peculiarity of style which characterize all his writings, were not infused by the pen of the ripe and ready writer—they were original qualities of the composition. Encouraged by the reception of his Memoirs, and urged by pinching poverty to constant efforts for the improvement of his circumstances, he took advantage of his literary popularity, and sent into the world his "Military Bijou," and a pamphlet on military flogging. The latter, dedicated to Sir Francis Burdett, produced a decided sensation, and was so much approved of by the patriotic senator with whose name it was associated, that he generously presented the author with a cheque for sixty pounds. Such precarious supplies, however, could afford no permanent ease to a mind so energetic, so unbroken by reverses, so incapable of yielding to any untoward pressure of Providence: he applied himself, therefore, resolutely to the obtainment of an employment attended with a certain income, without regard to the amount of compensation, degree of humility, or difficulty of position. Confident of his powers, physical and intellectual; relying on the education derived from boundless experience of men and manners, and being a perfect master of the art of discipline, he very naturally concluded that his qualifications for the situation of a metropolitan police officer were unequalled. He had calculated rightly. Without a moment's hesitation—in fact accompanied by an expression of regret that no more lucrative or suitable appointment was vacant—the office of Inspector was stated to be at his service, and to await his acceptance.
Entering with alacrity on the duties of his new appointment, he had the good fortune to be introduced, by Colonel Rowan, to Lieutenant W. Parlour, at that time superintendent of the Stepney division. This employment was not only particularly agreeable to Mr. Shipp, from the military rank of his superior in command, but laid the foundation of a steady friendship, which terminated only with his death. Mr. Shipp's talents and qualifications could not remain long unnoticed by the commissioners; indeed, they had evinced their perfect knowledge of both, and their desire to protect, encourage, and promote him, from the first moment of his presenting himself, by their placing him under the command of Lieutenant Parlour. A few months after Shipp's appointment, Lieutenant Parlour was made superintendent of the Liverpool constabulary force; and, on taking leave of his friend, assured him of his sincere determination to assist in restoring him to a situation of independence and respectful consideration. An opportunity soon presented itself. A superintendent for the night watch at Liverpool being required, Parlour sent an early communication to his friend Shipp, explaining all the advantages, the amount of salary (£200 per annum), and the respectable character of the employment; urging him to strain every nerve, turn every stone, ply every engine, to obtain the vacant place. The very conspicuous merits of Shipp soon distanced his numerous competitors, and procured for him the object of his ambition.
As superintendent of the night watch at Liverpool, Mr. Shipp proved himself a capable and efficient officer. By his intelligence, attention, excellent management, and gentlemanly manners, he gained the confidence and esteem, not only of the authorities, but of many individuals of wealth and consideration in that opulent community.