Edward FitzGerald and Posh

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FitzGerald always took a humorous delight in the business of "salwaging"
(as the men call it), and in his _Sea Words and Phrases along the Suffolk
Coast_ (No. II), he defines "Rattlin' Sam" as follows: "A term of
endearment, I suppose, used by Salwagers for a nasty shoal off the Corton
coast." In the same publication (I) he defines "saltwagin." "So
pronounced (if not _solwagin_') from, perhaps, an indistinct implication
of _salt_ (water) and _wages_. _Salvaging_, of course."

Posh tells how his "guv'nor" would clap him on the back and laugh
heartily over a "salwagin'" story. "You sea pirates!" he would say. "You
sea pirates!"

In the spring of 1866 FitzGerald stayed at 12 Marine Terrace, Lowestoft,
in March and April, and passed most of his time with Posh. In the
evenings he would sit and smoke a pipe, or play "all-fours." In the day
he liked to go to sea with Posh in the latter's punt, the _Little
Wonder_. The _Scandal_ was not launched that year till June, and
although he "got perished with the N.E. wind" (_Two Suffolk Friends_, p.
101), he revelled in the rough work.

{12 Marine Terrace, Lowestoft: p39.jpg}

He must have been a quaint spectacle to the Lowestoft fishermen, for Posh
assures me that he always went to sea in a silk hat, and generally wore a
"cross-over," or a lady's boa, round his neck. Now a silk hat and a
lady's boa aboard a longshore punt would be about as incongruous as a
court suit in a shooting field. But FitzGerald was not vain enough to be
self-conscious. He knew when he was comfortable, and that was enough for
his healthy intelligence. Why should he care for the foolish trifles of
convention? So to sea he went, top hat and all. And a good and hardy
sailor man he was, as all who remember his ways afloat will testify.

Shortly before or after his visit to Lowestoft in the spring of 1866
FitzGerald wrote to Posh:--

"MARKETHILL, WOODBRIDGE,
"Saturday.

"MY GOOD FELLOW,

"When I came in from my Boat yesterday I found your Hamper of Fish.
Mr. Manby has his conger Eel: I gave the Codling to a young Gentleman
in his ninetieth year: the Plaice we have eaten here--very good--and
the Skaite I have just sent in my Boat to Newson. I should have gone
down myself, but that it set in for rain; but, at the same time, I did
not wish to let the Fish miss his mark. Newson was here two days ago,
well and jolly; his Smack had a good Thing on the Ship-wash lately;
and altogether they have done pretty well this Winter. He is about
beginning to paint my Great Ship.

"I had your letter about Nets and Dan. You must not pretend you can't
write as good a Letter as a man needs to write, or to read. I suppose
the Nets were cheap if good; and I should be sorry you had not bought
more, but that, when you have got a Fleet for alongshore fishing, then
you will forsake them for some Lugger; and then I shall have to find
another Posh to dabble about, and smoke a pipe, with. George Howe's
Schooner ran down the Slips into the Water yesterday, just as I was in
time to see her Masts slipping along. In the Evening she bent a new
Main-sail. I doubt she will turn out a dear Bargain, after all, as
such Bargains are sure to.

"I was looking at the Whaleboat I told you of, but Mr. Manby thinks
she would . . . you propose.

"Here is a long Yarn; but to-morrow is Sunday; so you can take it
easy. And so 'Fare ye well.'

"EDWARD FITZGERALD."

The boat referred to in this letter was probably a small craft in which
FitzGerald had been in the habit of cruising up and down river with one
"West." It certainly was not the _Scandal_, for as transpires in the
letter, that "Great Ship" was not yet painted for the yachting season.

Mr. Manby was a ship agent at Woodbridge.

The "Ship-wash" was, and is, the "Rattlin' Sam" of Felixstowe, and Tom
Newson, FitzGerald's skipper, had evidently had a good bit of
"salwagin'."

"Dan" is not the name of a man, but of a pointed buoy with a flag atop
wherewith herring fishers mark the end of their fleets of nets, or (vide
_Sea Words and Phrases_, etc.). "A small buoy, with some ensign atop, to
mark where the fishing lines have been _shot_; and the _dan_ is said to
'watch well' if it hold erect against wind and tide. I have often
mistaken it for some floating sea bird of an unknown species."

The prophecy that as soon as Posh got his longshore fleet complete he
would wish to go on a "lugger," that is to say, to the deep-sea fishing,
was destined to be fulfilled, and that with the assistance of FitzGerald
himself. But no one ever took Posh's place. FitzGerald's experience as
a "herring merchant" began and ended with his intimacy with Posh.

{Old Lowestoft herring-drifter with "Dan" fixed to stem: p43.jpg}

George Howe, whose schooner was launched so that FitzGerald was just in
time to see her masts slipping along, was one of the sons of "old John
Howe," who, with his wife, was caretaker of Little Grange for many years.
The schooner was, Posh tells me, exceptionally cheap, and FitzGerald's
reference to her meant that she was too cheap to be good.

Since Posh's letter-writing powers received praise from one so qualified
to bestow it, there must have been a falling off from want of practice,
or from some other cause, for the old man is readier with his cod lines
than with his pen by a very great deal, and it is difficult to believe
that he ever wielded the pen of a ready writer. But perhaps FitzGerald
was so fascinated by the qualities which did exist in his protege that he
saw his friend through the medium of a glamour which set up, as it were,
a mirage of things that were not. Well, it speaks better for a man's
heart to descry non-existent merits than to imagine vain defects, and it
was like the generous soul of FitzGerald to attribute excellencies to his
friend which only existed in his imagination.

CHAPTER II
"REMEMBER YOUR DEBTS"

In 1866 Posh became the owner of a very old deep-sea lugger named the
_William Tell_, and, to enable him to acquire the nets and gear necessary
for her complete equipment as a North Sea herring boat, he borrowed a sum
of 50 pounds from Tom Newson, and a further sum of 50 pounds from Edward
FitzGerald. FitzGerald thought that Newson should have security for his
loan (vide _Two Suffolk Friends_, p. 104), but Newson refused to accept
any such thing. He, too, seems to have been under the influence of
Posh's fascination. On October 7th, 1866, FitzGerald wrote (_Two Suffolk
Friends_, p. 105): "I am amused to see Newson's _devotion_ to his young
Friend. . . . He declined having any Bill of Sale on Posh's Goods for
Money lent; old as he is (enough to distrust all Mankind) . . . has
perfect reliance on his Honour, Industry, Skill and Luck."

About this time FitzGerald must have written the following fragment, in
which he refers to Newson's loan:--

"You must pay him his Interest on it when you can, and then I will
take the Debt from him, adding it to the 50 pounds I lent you, and
letting all that stand over for another time.

"My dear Posh, I write all this to you, knowing you are as honest a
fellow as lives: but I never cease hammering into everybody's head
Remember your Debts, Remember your Debts. I have scarcely ever
[known?] _any one_ that was not more or less the worse for getting
into Debt: which is one reason why I have scarce ever lent money to
any one. I should not have lent it to _you_ unless I had confidence
in you: and I speak to you plainly now in order that my confidence may
not diminish by your forgetting _one farthing_ that you owe any man.

"The other day an old Friend sent me 10 pounds, which was one half of
what he said he had borrowed of me _thirty years ago_! I told him
that, on my honour, I wholly forgot ever having lent him any money. I
could only remember once _refusing_ to lend him some. So here is
_one_ man who remembered his Debts better than his Creditor did.

"I will ask Newson about the Cork Jacket. You know that I proposed to
give you each one: but your Mate told me that no one would wear them.

"Yesterday I lost my purse. I did not know where: but Jack had seen
me slip into a Ditch at the Ferry, and there he went and found it. So
is this Jack's Luck, or mine, eh, Mr. Posh?

"E. FG."

The debt to Newson was subsequently taken over by FitzGerald, and a new
arrangement made on the building of the _Meum and Tuum_ in the following
year. But this fragment is important, in that it strikes a note of
warning, which had to be repeated again and again during the partnership
between the poet and the fisherman. Posh was happy-go-lucky in his
accounts. I believe he was perfectly honest in intention, but he did not
understand the scrupulosity in book-keeping which his partner thought
essential to any business concern.

FitzGerald himself was very far from being meticulous where debts due to
him were concerned. Dr. Aldis Wright can remember more than one instance
in which FitzGerald tore up an acknowledgment of a loan after two or
three years' interest had been paid. "I think you've paid enough," or "I
think he's paid enough," would be his bland dismissal of the debt due to
him. Many Woodbridge people had good cause to know the generosity of the
man as well as ever Posh had cause to know it. FitzGerald may not have
opened his heart to his Woodbridge acquaintance so freely as he did to
Posh, but he was always ready to loosen his purse-strings.

The cork jackets were afterwards supplied to the crew of the _Meum and
Tuum_, as will be apparent in the letters.

"Jack," who found the purse, was Jack Newson, Tom Newson's nephew, and
the "crew" of the _Scandal_.

CHAPTER III
A SERMON FOR SUNDAY

In 1867 Posh sold the old _William Tell_ to be broken up. She was barely
seaworthy and unfit to continue fishing. An agreement was entered into
with Dan Fuller, a Lowestoft boat-builder, for a new lugger to be built,
on lines supplied by Posh, at a total cost (including spars) of 360
pounds. FitzGerald had suggested that the boat should be built by a Mr.
Hunt, of Aldeburgh, but Posh persuaded him to consent to Lowestoft and
Dan Fuller instead. "I can look arter 'em better," said he, with some
show of reason.

The agreement was, in the first instance, between Dan Fuller and Posh,
but FitzGerald took a fancy to become partner with Posh in the boat and
her profits. He was to find the money for the new lugger, and to let the
sums already due from Posh remain in the partnership, while Posh was to
bring in the nets and gear he had.

But by this time FitzGerald had seen symptoms in Posh which caused him
anxiety. He loved his humble friend, and his anxiety was on account of
the man and not on account of the possibilities of pecuniary loss
incurred through Posh's weakness. On December the 4th, 1866, he wrote to
Mr. Spalding, of Woodbridge: "At eight or half-past I go to have a pipe
at Posh's, if he isn't half-drunk with his Friends" (_Two Suffolk
Friends_, p. 107).

On January 5th, 1867, he wrote to the same correspondent (_Two Suffolk
Friends_, p. 108) referring to Posh: "This very day he signs an Agreement
for a new Herring-lugger, of which he is to be Captain, and to which he
will contribute some Nets and Gear. . . . I believe I have smoked my
pipe every evening but one with Posh at his house, which his quiet little
Wife keeps tidy and pleasant. The Man is, I do think, of a Royal Nature.
I have told him he is liable to one Danger (the Hare with many
Friends)--so many wanting him _to drink_. He says it's quite true and
that he is often obliged to run away: as I believe he does: for his House
shows all Temperance and Order. This little lecture I give him--to go
the way, I suppose, of all such Advice. . . ."

I fear that poor Posh's limbs soon grew too stiff to permit him to run
away from the good brown "bare." But the lecture which FitzGerald
mentions so casually was surely one of the most delicately written
warnings ever penned. The sterling kindness of the writer is as
transparent in it as is his tenderness to an inferior's feelings. No one
but a very paragon of a gentleman would have taken the trouble to write
so wisely, so kindly, so tenderly, and so earnestly. The appeal must
surely have moved Posh, for the pathos of the reference to his patron's
loneliness could not but have its effect.

But to touch on the sacred "bare" of a Lowestoft fisherman is always
dangerous. There are many teetotallers among them now, and they would
resent any imputation on their temperance. But those who are not
teetotallers would resent it much more. FitzGerald warned his friend in
as beautiful a letter as was ever written. But Posh could never regard
the "mild bare," the "twopenny" of the district, as an enemy. He rarely
touched spirits. Now, at the age of sixty-nine, he enjoys his mild beer
more than anything and cares little for stronger stuff. But there is no
doubt that this same mild beer inserted the edge of the adze which was to
split the partnership in a little more than three years' time--this and
the "interfarin' parties," whom Posh blames for all the misunderstandings
which were to come.

"MARKETHILL, WOODBRIDGE, _Thursday_.

"MY DEAR POSHY,

"My Lawyer can easily manage the Assignment of the Lugger to me,
leaving the Agreement as it is between you and Fuller. But you must
send the Agreement here for him to see.

"As we shall provide that the Lugger when built shall belong to me; so
we will provide that, in case of my dying _before_ she is built, you
may come on my executors for any money due.

"I think you will believe that I shall propose, and agree to, nothing
which is not for your good. For surely I should not have meddled with
it at all, but for that one purpose.

"And now, Poshy, I mean to read you a short Sermon, which you can keep
till Sunday to read. You know I told you of _one_ danger--and I do
think the only one--you are liable to--_Drink_.

"I do not the least think you are _given_ to it: but you have, and
will have, so many friends who will press you to it: perhaps _I_
myself have been one. And when you keep so long without _food_;
_could_ you do so, Posh, without a Drink--of some your bad Beer
[_sic_] too--now and then? And then, does not the Drink--and of bad
Stuff--take away Appetite for the time? And will, if continued, so
spoil the stomach that it will not bear anything _but_ Drink. And
this evil comes upon us gradually, without our knowing how it grows.
That is why I warn you, Posh. If I am wrong in thinking you want my
warning, you must forgive me, believing that I should not warn at all
if I were not much interested in your welfare. I know that you do
your best to keep out at sea, and watch on shore, for anything that
will bring home something for Wife and Family. But do not do so at
any such risk as I talk of.

"I say, I tell you all this for your sake: and something for my own
also--not as regards the Lugger--but because, thinking you, as I do,
so good a Fellow, and being glad of your Company; and taking
_Pleasure_ in seeing you prosper; I should now be sorely vext if you
went away from what I believe you to be. Only, whether you do well or
ill, _show me all above-board_, as I really think you have done; and
do not let a poor old, solitary, and sad Man (as I really am, in spite
of my Jokes), do not, I say, let me waste my Anxiety in vain.

"I thought I had done with new Likings: and I had a more easy Life
perhaps on that account: _now_ I shall often think of you with
uneasiness, for the very reason that I have so much Liking and
Interest for you.

"There--the Sermon is done, Posh. You _know_ I am not against Good
Beer while at Work: nor a cheerful Glass after work: only do not let
it spoil the stomach, or the Head.

"Your's truly,
"E. FG."

CHAPTER IV
THE _MUM TUM_

FitzGerald having made up his mind to give Posh a lift by going into
partnership with him began by finding not only the money for the building
of the boat but a name for her when she should be ready for sea. It
seemed to him that "Meum and Tuum" would be an appropriate name, and the
_Mum Tum_ is remembered along the coast to this day as a queer,
meaningless title for a boat. At a later date FitzGerald is reported to
have said that his venture turned out all Tuum and no Meum so far as he
was concerned. But it is possible that Posh dealt more fairly with him
than he thought. At all events Posh thinks he did.

The boat was to be paid for in instalments. So much on laying the keel,
so much when the deck was on, etc., etc., and FitzGerald took the
greatest interest in her building. He had first thought of christening
the lugger "Marian Halcombe," after Wilkie Collins's heroine in _The
Woman in White_, as appears from a letter to Frederic Tennyson, written
in January, 1867 (_Letters_, II, 90, Eversley Edition):--

"I really think of having a Herring-lugger I am building named Marian
Halcombe. . . . Yes, a Herring-lugger; which is to pay for the money
she costs unless she goes to the Bottom: and which meanwhile amuses me
to consult about with my Sea-folks. I go to Lowestoft now and then by
way of salutary Change; and there smoke a Pipe every night with a
delightful Chap who is to be Captain."

Again on June 17th (_Letters_, II, 94, Eversley Edition) he wrote to the
late Professor Cowell of Corpus Christi College, Cambridge:--

"I am here in my little Ship" (the _Scandal_) "with no company but my
crew" (Tom Newson and his nephew Jack) ". . . and my other--Captain of
the Lugger now a-building: a Fellow I never tire of studying--If he
_should_ turn out knave, I shall have done with all Faith in my own
Judgment: and if he should go to the Bottom of the Sea in the Lugger--I
shan't cry for the Lugger."

There was some delay in getting the deck planks on the lugger, for
FitzGerald wrote to Mr. Spalding on May 18th, 1867 (_Two Suffolk
Friends_, p. 110), that she would be decked "next Week," whereas her
planking was not finished till June, and, on a Friday in June, FitzGerald
wrote to Posh:--

"WOODBRIDGE, _Friday_.

"MY DEAR POSHY,

"I am only back To-day from London, where I had to go for two days:
and I am very glad to be back. For the Weather was wretched: the
Streets all Slush: and I all alone wandering about in it. So as I was
sitting at Night, in a great Room where a Crowd of People were eating
Supper, and Singing going on, I thought to myself--Well, Posh might as
well be here; and then I should see what a Face he would make at all
this--This Thought really came into my mind.

"I had asked Mr. Berry to forward me any Letters because I thought you
might write to say the Lugger was planked. But now you tell me it is
no such thing: well, there is plenty of time: but I wished not to
delay in sending the Money, if wanted. I have seen, and heard, no
more of Newson; nor of _his_ new Lugger from Mr. Hunt--I am told that
one of the American yachts, _The Henrietta_, is a perfect Model: so I
am going to have a Print of her that I may try and learn the Stem from
the Stern of a Ship. If this North-Easter changes I daresay I may run
to Lowestoft next week and get a Sail, but it is too cold for that
now.

"Well, here is a letter, you see, my little small Captain, in answer
to yours, which I was glad to see, for as I do not forget you, as I
have told you, so I am glad that you should sometime remember the Old
Governor and Herring-merchant

"EDWARD FITZGERALD."

It should be observed that in this letter, as in several of those written
to Posh, FitzGerald signed his name, "Edward FitzGerald," in full, a
practice from which he was averse owing to certain facts connected with
another Edward Fitzgerald. Those who have heard the story of the
historic first meeting between the poet and the late Mr. Bernard Quaritch
will remember why _our_ FitzGerald disliked the idea of being confused
with the other Edward Fitzgerald.

{Posh and his old "Shud," in which nets, etc., belonging to the
partnership were stored, and where the letters now published were found:
p62.jpg}

The letter here given forces a delightful picture upon us. Its
simplicity makes it superbly graphic. Think of FitzGerald, refined in
feature and reserved in manner, a little unconventional in dress, but not
sufficiently so to be vulgarly noticeable--think of the man who has given
us the most poetical philosophy and the most philosophical poetry, all in
the most exquisite English, in our language, sitting probably at Evans's
(it sounds like Evans's with the suppers and the music) and looking a
little pityingly at the reek about him like the "poor old, solitary, and
sad Man as he really was in spite of his Jokes"; and then imaging in his
mind's eye the handsome stalwart fisherman whom he loved so truly, and
believing that he was as morally excellent as he was physically! "What a
Face he would make at all this!" thought the poet.

Five or six years ago a good friend of mine, the skipper of one of the
most famous tugs of Yarmouth, had to go up to town on a salvage case
before the Admiralty Court. With him as witnesses went one or two beach
men of the old school, wind-and sun-tanned old shell-backs, with voices
like a fog-horn, and that entire lack of self-consciousness which is
characteristic of simplicity and good breeding. My friend the skipper
was cultured in comparison with the old beach men, and he was a little
vexed when one old "salwager" insisted on accompanying him to the Oxford
Music Hall. All went well till some conjurers appeared on the stage.
Then the skipper found that he had made a mistake in edging away from the
beach man. For that jolly old salt hailed him across the house. "Hi,
Billeeoh! Bill Berry! Hi! Lor, bor, howiver dew they dew't? Howiver
dew they dew't, bor? Tha'ss whoolly a masterpiece! Hi! Billeeoh! Theer
they goo agin!"

The skipper always ends the story there. He is as brave a man as any on
the coast. It was he who stood out in Yarmouth Roads all night to look
for the Caistor life-boat the night of the disaster--a night when the
roads could not be distinguished from the shoals, so broken into tossing
white horses was the whole offing--but I believe he slunk down the stairs
of the Oxford that night, and left the old beach man still expressing his
delighted wonder.

Perhaps FitzGerald thought that Posh would be as excited as the old beach
man.

"Mr. Berry" (as every one knows who knows anything about FitzGerald) was
the landlord of the house on Markethill, Woodbridge, where the poet
lodged. (By the way, he was, so far as I know, no relation of my Bill
Berry.) A sum of 50 pounds was due to Dan Fuller on the planking being
completed, and FitzGerald was anxious to let Posh have the money as soon
as it was needed. He "remembered his debts" even before they became due.

I have already stated that Hunt was a boat-builder at Aldeburgh, and that
FitzGerald had, at first, wished Posh to employ him to build the _Mum
Tum_, as the _Meum and Tuum_ was fated to be called.

The kindly jovial relations between the "guv'nor" and his partner could
not be better indicated than by the name FitzGerald gives himself at the
close, just before he once more signs his name in full. Well, perhaps
the legal luminary of Lowestoft would justify his inquiry if Edward
FitzGerald was the man who made a lot of money out of salt by saying,
"Well, he called himself a herring-merchant."

The schoolmaster who had never heard of either FitzGerald or Omar Khayyam
would (according to the nature of the breed) sniff and say "What? A
herring-merchant and a tent-maker! My boys are the sons of gentlemen. I
can't be expected to know anything about tradesfolk of that class."

But Posh has a sense of humour, and he says, "Ah! He used to laugh about
that, the guv'nor did. He'd catch hold o' my jersey, so" (here Posh
pinches up a fold of his blue woollen jersey), "and say, 'Oh dear! Oh
dear, Poshy! Two F's in the firm. FitzGerald and Fletcher, herring
salesmen--when Poshy catches any, which isn't as often as it might be,
you know, Poshy!' And then he'd laugh. Oh, he was a jolly kind-hearted
man if ever there was one."

And then Posh's eyes will grow moist sometimes, I think perhaps with the
thought that he might--ah, well! It's too late now.

Posh wishes me to give the dimensions of the lugger, as she was of his
own designing and proved a fast and stiff craft. He had given her two
feet less length than her beam called for, according to local ideas, and
FitzGerald called her "The Cart-horse," because she seemed broad and
bluff for her length. She was forty-five feet in length, with a fifteen-
foot beam and seven-foot depth. She was first rigged as a lugger, but
altered to the more modern "dandy" (something like a ketch but with more
rake to the mizzen and with no topmast on the mainmast) before she was
sold. Any one about the herring basins who has arrived at fisherman's
maturity (about sixty years) will remember the _Mum Tum_, and, so far as
she was concerned, the partnership was entirely successful, for no one
has a bad word to say for her.

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