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Scanned by John Edward Heaton in Guatemala.

MR MIDSHIPMAN EASY By FREDERICK MARRYAT (1792-1848)

CHAPTER I

Which the reader will find very easy to read.

Mr Nicodemus Easy was a gentleman who lived down in Hampshire; he was
a married man, and in very easy circumstances. Most couples find it
very easy to have a family, but not always quite so easy to maintain
them. Mr Easy was not at all uneasy on the latter score, as he had no
children; but he was anxious to have them, as most people covet what
they cannot obtain. After ten years, Mr Easy gave it up as a bad job.
Philosophy is said to console a man under disappointment, although
Shakespeare asserts that it is no remedy for toothache; so Mr Easy
turned philosopher, the very best profession a man can take up, when
he is fit for nothing else; he must be a very incapable person indeed
who cannot talk nonsense. For some time, Mr Easy could not decide
upon what description his nonsense should consist of; at last he fixed
upon the rights of man, equality, and all that; how every person was
born to inherit his share of the earth, a right at present only
admitted to a certain length; that is, about six feet, for we all
inherit our graves and are allowed to take possession without dispute.
But no one would listen to Mr Easy's philosophy. The women would not
acknowledge the rights of men, whom they declared always to be in the
wrong; and, as the gentlemen who visited Mr Easy were all men of
property, they could not perceive the advantages of sharing with those
who had none. However, they allowed him to discuss the question, while
they discussed his port wine. The wine was good, if the arguments
were not, and we must take things as we find them in this world.

While Mr Easy talked philosophy, Mrs Easy played patience, and they
were a very happy couple, riding side by side on their hobbies, and
never interfering with each other. Mr Easy knew his wife could not
understand him, and therefore did not expect her to listen very
attentively; and Mrs Easy did not care how much her husband talked,
provided she was not put out in her game. Mutual forbearance will
always ensure domestic felicity.

There was another cause for their agreeing so well. Upon any disputed
question Mr Easy invariably gave it up to Mrs Easy, telling her that
she should have her own way and this pleased his wife; but, as Mr Easy
always took care, when it came to the point, to have his way, he was
pleased as well. It is true that Mrs Easy had long found out that she
did not have her own way long; but she was of an easy disposition, and
as, in nine cases out of ten, it was of very little consequence how
things were done, she was quite satisfied with his submission during
the heat of the argument. Mr Easy had admitted that she was right,
and if like all men he would do wrong, why, what could a poor woman
do? With a lady of such a. quiet disposition, it is easy to imagine
that the domestic felicity of Mr Easy was not easily disturbed. But,
as people have observed before, there is a mutability in human
affairs. It was at the finale of the eleventh year of their marriage
that Mrs Easy at first complained that she could not enjoy her
breakfast. Mrs Easy had her own suspicions, everybody else considered
it past doubt, all except Mr Easy; he little "thought, good easy man,
that his greatness was ripening"; he had decided that to have an heir
was no Easy task, and it never came into his calculations, that there
could be a change in his wife's figure. You might have added to it,
subtracted from it, divided it, or multiplied it, but as it was a
zero, the result would be always the same. Mrs Easy also was not
quite sure--she believed it might be the case, there was no saying; it
might be a mistake, like that of Mrs Trunnion's in the novel, and,
therefore, she said nothing to her husband about the matter. At last
Mr Easy opened his eyes, and when, upon interrogating his wife, he
found out the astounding truth, he opened his eyes still wider, and
then he snapped his fingers and danced, like a bear upon hot plates,
with delight, thereby proving that different causes may produce
similar effects in two instances at one and the same time. The bear
dances from pain, Mr Easy from pleasure; and again, when we are
indifferent, or do not care for anything, we snap our fingers at it,
and when we are overjoyed, and obtain what we most care for, we also
snap our fingers. Two months after Mr Easy snapped his fingers, Mrs
Easy felt no inclination to snap hers, either from indifference or
pleasure, The fact was, that Mrs Easy's time was come, to undergo what
Shakespeare pronounces the pleasing punishment that women bears but
Mrs Easy, like the rest of her sex, declared "that all men were
liars," and most particularly poets.

But while Mrs Easy was suffering, Mr Easy was in ecstasies. He
laughed at pain, as all philosophers do when it is suffered by other
people, and not by themselves.

In due course of time, Mrs Easy presented her husband with a fine boy,
whom we present to the public as our hero.

CHAPTER II

In which Mrs Easy, as usual, has her own way.

It was the fourth day after Mrs Easy's confinement that Mr Easy, who
was sitting by her bedside in an easy chair, commenced as follows: "I
have been thinking, my dear Mrs Easy, about the name I shall give this
child."

"Name, Mr Easy! why, what name should you give it but your own?"

"Not so, my dear," replied Mr Easy; "they call all names proper names,
but I think that mine is not. It is the very worst name in the
calendar."

"Why, what's the matter with it, Mr Easy?"

"The matter affects me as well as the boy. Nicodemus is a long name
to write at full length, and Nick is vulgar. Besides, as there will
be two Nicks, they will naturally call my boy young Nick, and of
course I shall be styled old Nick, which will be diabolical."

"Well, Mr Easy, at all events then let me choose the name."

"That you shall, my dear, and it was with this view that I have
mentioned the subject so early."

"I think, Mr Easy, I will call the boy after my poor father--his name
shall be Robert."

"Very well, my dear, if you wish it, it shall be Robert. You shall
have your own way. But I think, my dear, upon a little consideration,
you will acknowledge that there is a decided objection."

"An objection Mr Easy?"

"Yes, my dear; Robert may be very well, but you must reflect upon the
consequences; he is certain to be called Bob."

"Well, my dear, and suppose they do call him Bob?"

"I cannot bear even the supposition, my dear. You forget the county
in which we are residing, the downs covered with sheep."

"Why, Mr Easy, what can sheep have to do with a Christian name?"

"There it is; women never look to consequences. My dear, they have a
great deal to do with the name of Bob. I will appeal to any farmer in
the county, if ninety-nine shepherds' dogs out of one hundred are not
called Bob. Now observe, your child is out of doors somewhere in the
fields or plantations; you want and you call him. Instead of your
child, what do you find? Why, a dozen curs at least, who come running
up to you, all answering to the name of Bob, and wagging their stumps
of tails. You see, Mrs Easy, it is a dilemma not to be got over. You
level your only son to the brute creation by giving him a Christian
name which, from its peculiar brevity, has been monopolised by all the
dogs in the county. Any other name you please, my dear, but in this
one instance you must allow me to lay my positive veto."

"Well, then, let me see--but I'll think of it, Mr Easy; my head aches
very much just now."

"I will think for you, my dear. What do you say to John?"

"O no, Mr Easy, such a common name."

"A proof of its popularity, my dear. It is scriptural--we have the
Apostle and the Baptist--we have a dozen Popes who were all Johns. It
is royal--we have plenty of kings who were Johns--and moreover, it is
short, and sounds honest and manly."

"Yes, very true, my dear; but they will call him Jack." "Well, we have
had several celebrated characters who were Jacks. There was--let me
see--Jack the Giant Killer, and Jack of the Bean Stock--and Jack--
Jack--"

"Jack Spratt," replied Mrs Easy. "And Jack Cade, Mrs Easy, the great
rebel--and Three-fingered Jack, Mrs Easy, the celebrated negro--and,
above all, Jack Falstaff, ma'am, Jack Falstaff--honest Jack Falstaff--
witty Jack Falstaff--"

"I thought, Mr Easy, that I was to be permitted to choose the name."

"Well, so you shall, my dear; I give it up to you. Do just as you
please; but depend upon it that John is the right name. Is it not
now, my dear?"

"It's the way you always treat me, Mr Easy; you say that you give it
up, and that I shall have my own way, but I never do have it. I am
sure that the child will be christened John."

"Nay, my dear, it shall be just what you please. Now I recollect it,
there were several Greek emperors who were Johns; but decide for
yourself, my dear."

"No, no," replied Mrs Easy, who was ill, and unable to contend any
longer, "I give it up, Mr Easy. I know how it will be, as it always
is: you give me my own way as people give pieces of gold to children,
it's their own money, but they must not spend it. Pray call him
John."

"There, my dear, did not I tell you you would be of my opinion upon
reflection? I knew you would. I have given you your own way, and you
tell me to call him John; so now we're both of the same mind, and that
point is settled."

"I should like to go to sleep, Mr Easy; I feel far from well."

"You shall always do just as you like, my dear," replied the husband,
"and have your own way in everything. It is the greatest pleasure I
have when I yield to your wishes. I will walk in the garden.
Good-bye, my dear."

Mrs Easy made no reply, and the philosopher quitted the room. As may
easily be imagined, on the following day the boy was christened John.

CHAPTER III

In which our hero has to wait the issue of an argument.

The reader may observe that, in general, all my first chapters are
very short, and increase in length as the work advances. I mention
this as a proof of my modesty and diffidence. At first, I am like a
young bird just out of its mother's nest, pluming my little feathers
and taking short flights. By degrees I obtain more confidence, and
wing my course over hill and dale.

It is very difficult to throw any interest into a chapter on
childhood. There is the same uniformity in all children until they
develop. We cannot, therefore, say much relative to Jack Easy's
earliest days; he sucked and threw up his milk while the nurse blessed
it for a pretty dear, slept, and sucked again. He crowed in the
morning like a cock, screamed when he was washed, stared at the
candle, and made wry faces with the wind. Six months passed in these
innocent amusements, and then he was put into shorts. But I ought
here to have remarked, that Mrs Easy did not find herself equal to
nursing her own infant, and it was necessary to look out for a
substitute.

Now a common-place person would have been satisfied with the
recommendation of the medical man, who looks but to the one thing
needful, which is a sufficient and wholesome supply of nourishment for
the child; but Mr Easy was a philosopher, and had latterly taken to
craniology, and he descanted very learnedly with the Doctor upon the
effect of his only son obtaining his nutriment from an unknown source.
"Who knows," observed Mr Easy, "but that my son may not imbibe with
his milk the very worst passions of human nature."

"I have examined her," replied the Doctor, "and can safely recommend
her."

"That examination is only preliminary to one more important," replied
Mr Easy. "I must examine her."

"Examine who, Mr Easy?" exclaimed his wife, who had lain down again on
the bed.

"The nurse, my dear."

"Examine what, Mr Easy?" continued the lady.

"Her head, my dear," replied the husband. "I must ascertain what her
propensities are."

"I think you had better leave her alone, Mr Easy. She comes this
evening, and I shall question her pretty severely. Doctor Middleton,
what do you know of this young person?"

"I know, madam, that she is very healthy and strong, or I should not
have selected her."

"But is her character good?"

"Really, madam, I know little about her character; but you can make
any inquiries you please. But at the same time I ought to observe,
that if you are too particular in that point, you will have some
difficulty in providing yourself."

"Well, I shall see," replied Mrs Easy. "And I shall feel," rejoined
the husband.

This parleying was interrupted by the arrival of the very person in
question, who was announced by the housemaid, and was ushered in. She
was a handsome, florid, healthy-looking girl, awkward and naive in her
manner, and apparently not over wise; there was more of the dove than
of the serpent in her composition.

Mr Easy, who was very anxious to make his own discoveries, was the
first who spoke. "Young woman, come this way, I wish to examine your
head."

"Oh! dear me, sir, it's quite clean, I assure you,". cried the girl,
dropping a curtsey.

Doctor Middleton, who sat between the bed and Mr Easy's chair, rubbed
his hands and laughed.

In the meantime, Mr Easy had untied the string and taken off the cap
of the young woman, and was very busy putting his fingers through her
hair, during which the face of the young woman expressed fear and
astonishment.

"I am glad to perceive that you have a large portion of benevolence."

"Yes," replied the young woman, dropping a curtsey.

"And veneration also."

"Thanky, sir."

"And the organ of modesty is strongly developed."

"Yes, sir," replied the girl with a smile.

"That's quite a new organ," thought Dr Middleton.

"Philoprogenitiveness very powerful."

"If you please, sir, I don't know what that is," answered Sarah, with
a curtsey.

"Nevertheless you have given us a practical, illustration. Mrs Easy,
I am satisfied. Have you any questions to ask? But it is quite
unnecessary."

"To be sure I have, Mr Easy. Pray, young woman, what is your name?"

"Sarah, if you please, ma'am."

"How long have you been married?"

"Married, ma'am?"

"Yes, married."

"If you please, ma'am, I had a misfortune, ma'am," replied the girl,
casting down her eyes.

"What, have you not been married?"

"No, ma'am, not yet."

"Good heavens! Dr Middleton, what can you mean by bringing this
person here?" exclaimed Mrs Easy. "Not a married woman, and she has a
child!"

"If you please, ma'am," interrupted the young woman, dropping a
curtsey, "it was a very little one."

"A very little one!" exclaimed Mrs Easy.

"Yes, ma'am, very small, indeed, and died soon after it was born."

"Oh, Dr Middleton!--what could you mean, Dr Middleton?"

"My dear madam," exclaimed the Doctor, rising from his chair, "this is
the only person that I could find suited to the wants of your child,
and if you do not take her I cannot answer for its life. It is true,
that a married woman might be procured; but married women, who have a
proper feeling, will not desert their own children; and as Mr Easy
asserts, and you appear to imagine, the temper and disposition of your
child may be affected by the nourishment it receives, I think it more
likely to be injured by the milk of a married woman who will desert
her own child for the sake of gain. The misfortune which has happened
to this young woman is not always a proof of a bad heart, but of
strong attachment, and the overweening confidence of simplicity."

"You are correct, Doctor," replied Mr Easy, "and her head proves that
she is a modest young woman, with strong religious feeling, kindness
of disposition, and every other requisite."

"The head may prove it all for what I know, Mr Easy, but her conduct
tells another tale."

"She is well fitted for the situation, ma'am," continued the Doctor.

"And if you please, ma'am," rejoined Sarah, "it was such a little
one."

"Shall I try the baby, ma'am?" said the monthly nurse, who had
listened in silence. "It is fretting so, poor thing, and has its dear
little fist right down its throat."

Dr Middleton gave the signal of assent, and in a few seconds Master
John Easy was fixed to Sarah as tight as a leech.

"Lord love it, how hungry it is!--there, there, stop it a moment, it's
choking, poor thing!"

Mrs Easy, who was lying on her bed, rose up, and went to the child.
Her first feeling was that of envy, that another should have such a
pleasure which was denied to herself; the next, that of delight, at
the satisfaction expressed by the infant. In a few minutes the child
fell back in a deep sleep. Mrs Easy was satisfied; maternal feelings
conquered all others, and Sarah was duly installed.

To make short work of it, we have said that Jack Easy in six months
was in shorts. He soon afterwards began to crawl and show his legs;
indeed, so indecorously, that it was evident that he had imbibed no
modesty with Sarah's milk, neither did he appear to have gained
veneration or benevolence, for he snatched at everything, squeezed the
kitten to death, scratched his mother, and pulled his father by the
hair; notwithstanding all which, both his father and mother and the
whole household declared him to be the finest and sweetest child in
the universe. But if we were to narrate all the wonderful events of
Jack's childhood from the time of his birth up to the age of seven
years, as chronicled by Sarah, who continued his dry nurse after he
had been weaned, it would take at least three volumes folio. Jack was
brought up in the way that every only child usually is--that is, he
was allowed to have his own way.

CHAPTER IV

In which the doctor prescribes going to school as a remedy for a cut
finger.

"Have you no idea of putting the boy to school, Mr Easy?" said Dr
Middleton, who had been summoned by a groom with his horse in a foam
to attend immediately at Forest Hill, the name of Mr Easy's mansion,
and who, upon his arrival, had found that Master Easy had cut his
thumb. One would have thought that he had cut his head off by the
agitation pervading the whole household--Mr Easy walking up and down
very uneasy, Mrs Easy with great difficulty prevented from syncope,
and all the maids bustling and passing round Mrs Easy's chair.
Everybody appeared excited except Master Jack Easy himself, who, with
a rag round his finger, and his pinafore spotted with blood, was
playing at bob-cherry, and cared nothing about the matter.

"Well, what's the matter, my little man?" said Dr Middleton, on
entering, addressing himself to Jack, as the most sensible of the
whole party.

"Oh, Dr Middleton," interrupted Mrs Easy, "he has cut his hand; I'm
sure that a nerve is divided, and then the lock-jaw--"

The Doctor made no reply, but examined the finger: Jack Easy continued
to play bob-cherry with his right hand.

"Have you such a thing as a piece of sticking-plaster in the house,
madam?" observed the Doctor, after examination.

"O yes: run, Mary, run, Sarah!" In a few seconds the maids appeared,
Sarah bringing the sticking-plaster, and Mary following with the
scissors.

"Make yourself quite easy, madam," said Dr Middleton, after he put on
the plaster, "I will answer for no evil consequences."

"Had I not better take him upstairs, and let him lie down a little?"
replied Mrs Easy, slipping a guinea into the Doctor's hand.

"It is not absolutely requisite, madam," said the Doctor; "but at all
events he will be kept out of more mischief."

"Come, my dear, you hear what Dr Middleton says."

"Yes, I heard," replied Jack; "but I shan't go."

"My dear Johnny--come, love--now do, my dear Johnny."

Johnny played bob-cherry, and made no answer.

"Come, Master Johnny," said Sarah.

"Go away, Sarah," said Johnny, with a backhander.

"Oh! fie, Master Johnny," said Mary.

"Johnny, my love," said Mrs Easy in a coaxing tone, "come now--will
you go?"

"I'll go in the garden and get some more cherries," replied Master
Johnny.

"Come, then, love, we will go into the garden."

Master Johnny jumped off his chair, and took his mamma by the hand.

"What a dear, good, obedient child it is!" exclaimed Mrs Easy; "you
may lead him with a thread."

"Yes, to pick cherries," thought Dr Middleton. Mrs Easy, and Johnny,
and Sarah, and Mary, went into the garden, leaving Dr Middleton alone
with Mr Easy, who had been silent during this scene. Now Dr Middleton
was a clever, sensible man, who had no wish to impose upon anyone. As
for his taking a guinea for putting on a piece of sticking-plaster,
his conscience was very easy on that score. His time was equally
valuable, whether he were employed for something or nothing; and,
moreover, he attended the poor gratis. Constantly in the house, he had
seen much of Mr John Easy, and perceived that he was a courageous,
decided boy, of a naturally good disposition; but from the
idiosyncrasy of the father, and the doting folly of the mother, in a
sure way of being spoiled.

As soon, therefore, as the lady was out of hearing, he took a chair,
and made the query at the commencement of the chapter, which we shall
now repeat. "Have you no idea of putting the boy to school, Mr Easy?"

Mr Easy crossed his legs, and clasped his hands together over his
knees, as he always did when he was about to commence an argument.
"The great objection that I have to sending a boy to school, Dr
Middleton, is, that I conceive that the discipline enforced is, not
only contrary to the rights of man, but also in opposition to all
sound sense and common judgment. Not content with punishment, which
is in itself erroneous, and an infringement of social justice, they
even degrade the minds of the boys still more by applying punishment
to the most degraded part, adding contumely to tyranny. Of course, it
is intended that a boy who is sent to school should gain by precept
and example; but is he to learn benevolence by the angry look and the
flourish of the vindictive birch,--or forbearance, by the cruelty of
the ushers,--or patience, when the masters over him are out of all
patience, or modesty, when his nether parts are exposed to general
examination? Is he not daily reading a lesson at variance with that
equality which we all possess, but of which we are unjustly deprived?
Why should there be a distinction between the flogger and the floggee?
Are they not both fashioned alike after God's image, endowed with the
same reason, having an equal right to what the world offers, and which
was intended by Providence to be equally distributed? Is it not that
the sacred inheritance of all, which has tyrannously and impiously
been ravished from the many for the benefit of the few, and which
ravishment, from long custom of iniquity and inculcation of false
precepts, has too long been basely submitted to? Is it not the duty of
a father to preserve his only son from imbibing these dangerous and
debasing errors, which will render him only one of a vile herd who are
content to suffer, provided that they live? And yet are not these very
errors inculcated at school, and impressed upon their mind inversely
by the birch? Do not they there receive their first lesson in slavery
with the first lesson in A B C; and are not their minds thereby
prostrated, so as never to rise again, but ever to bow to despotism,
to cringe to rank, to think and act by the precepts of others, and to
tacitly disavow that sacred equality which is our birthright? No,
sir, without they can teach without resorting to such a fundamental
error as flogging, my boy shall never go to school."

And Mr Easy threw himself back in his chair, imagining like all
philosophers, that he had said something very clever.

Dr Middleton knew his man, and therefore patiently waited until he had
exhausted his oratory.

"I will grant," said the Doctor at last, "that all you say may have
great truth in it; but, Mr Easy, do you not think that by not
permitting a boy to be educated, you allow him to remain more open to
that very error of which you speak? It is only education which will
conquer prejudice, and enable a man to break through the trammels of
custom. Now, allowing that the birch is used, yet it is at a period
when the young mind is so elastic as to soon become indifferent; and
after he has attained the usual rudiments of education, you will then
find him prepared to receive those lessons which you can yourself
instil."

"I will teach him everything myself," replied Mr Easy, folding his
arms consequentially and determinedly.

"I do not doubt your capability, Mr Easy; but unfortunately you will
always have a difficulty which you never can get over. Excuse me, I
know what you are capable of, and the boy would indeed be happy with
such a preceptor, but--if I must speak plain--you must be aware as
well as I am, that the maternal fondness of Mrs Easy will always be a
bar to your intention. He is already so spoiled by her, that he will
not obey; and without obedience you cannot inculcate."

"I grant, my dear sir, that there is a difficulty on that point; but
maternal weakness must then be overcome by paternal severity."

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