David's Little Lad
Page 4
David possessed none of the characteristics of genius; he wasneither clever nor ambitious. To be in all men's mouths, and spokenhighly of by the world, would not have suited him at all; he cared, wesome of us thought, almost too little for man's opinion, and I have evenon one occasion heard Owen call him poor-spirited.
But all the same, I am not wrong in saying that David's great, andgrand, and distinguishing characteristic was strength. He possessedstrength of body, soul, and spirit, to a remarkable degree. Long ago,in the past ages, there were men of our house, men who ate roast beef,and quaffed beer and cider, and knew nothing of the weak effeminacy oftea and coffee; these were the men who would laugh at a nerve ache, whopossessed iron frames, and were of goodly stature. Of course wedegenerated since then, our lives became less simple, and moreluxurious, and our men and women in their paler cheeks and slighterframes, and bodies capable of feeling bodily suffering, bore witness tothe change.
But David was a Morgan of the old race--tall, upright, broad, withmassive features, neither handsome nor graceful, but strong as a lion.He had never in his life known an ache, or a day's serious illness.When Owen and I suffered so much with the measles, David did not evenstay in bed; so also with whooping-cough, so also with all otherchildish maladies. He caught them of course, but they passed over himlightly as a summer breeze, never once ruffling his brow, or taking thecolour from his cheek. Yes, David was strong in body, and he was alsostrong in mind; without possessing talent, he had what was better,sense; he knew which path was the wisest to tread in, which course ofaction would lead, not to the happiest, but to the best result. Hismind was of that calm and rare order, which decides quickly, and oncefor all; he was never troubled with indecision, and he never asked ofothers, "What shall I do here? There is a lion in my path at thisjuncture, how shall I overcome him?" No, he slew his own lions, and ina silent warfare, which gave no token of the tears and blood expended bythe victorious warrior.
But the strongest part of David, that which made him the man he was, washis soul; and here, he had asked for and obtained, the aid of a higherPower.
His was the sort of character that never could have got on without theconscious presence of a God. His soul must be anchored upon some rockwhich would balance the whole equilibrium of a grand but simple nature.
His faith was primitive, and undisturbed by modern doubts. He took thecommandments of God in their obvious and literal meaning, he believedwhat the apostle said when he told men to "pray without ceasing;" hehearkened to him again, when he entreated men to "search theScriptures;" he was a man of few rather than of many words, but healways found some to cry to God with; he cared very little for books,but he read his Bible daily. Thus his views of life were clear andunclouded. He was put into the world to do his duty. His duty was tolove God better than, and his neighbour as well as, himself. Thissimple rule of action comprises much, and here David acted right nobly,and proved the strength of his soul. And he was early tried, for ourfather died when he was twelve years old, and then the most obvious partof the duty which stared him in the face lay in the text, "Bear ye oneanother's burdens." This was one of David's plainest and earliestduties; a duty which he performed humbly, hardly knowing that heperformed it at all. Others leant upon him, and he bore their burdens,so fulfilling the law of Christ.
I think I may truly say of David, that he was the most self-sacrificingman I ever met.
But for all that, for all his gentleness, his kindness, his affection,he was not my favourite brother, nor was he my mother's favourite son.
I remember an early incident which revealed this fact in my mother'sheart, and perhaps unduly biassed my own.
I was standing, shortly after my father's death, in the deep recess ofthe nursery window--I was standing there watching David and Owen, bothhome for their holidays, pacing up and down on the gravel sweep in frontof the house. David was very strong, and showed his superior strengthin his great size even then, but Owen was very beautiful. David wasstout and clumsy, Owen slightly made and graceful. As I watched them,mother came behind me, put her arms round my tiny waist, kissed my brow,and whispered as she looked at the two lads--
"My noble boy!"
"Which? mother," I asked.
"My Owen," replied mother.
I opened my eyes very wide, gazed again with new wisdom at the boys,perceived the superior beauty of the one, worshipped the beauty, andfrom this time I loved Owen best.
And Owen was very lovable, Owen was beautiful, brilliant, gay, withlofty ambitions, and versatile showy talents. If his affections wanteddepth, they never wanted outward warmth. His smile was a thing toremember, his caress was worth waiting six months to obtain. How well Iremember those summer holidays, when he flashed like the sunshine intothe dull old house, when his whistle and gay laugh sounded from parlourto cellar. When Owen was at home, Tynycymmer was the happiest place inthe world to me; then mother put on her best gowns, and wore her mostfestive air, then my lessons, always scant and desultory, were thrown tothe four winds, and I was allowed unbridled liberty. What fishingexpeditions we made all round the coast! how daring were our exploits!
I was much younger than my brothers, but the brothers were always gentleto the only little sister--both the brothers--but while I oftenest rodeon David's broad shoulder, I received most caresses and most lovingwords from Owen, so I loved Owen best. So too with mother, she thoughtvery highly of that broad-shouldered, plain-faced, sensible lad, who wasso ready to fly at her slightest bidding, so anxious to execute hersmallest command. She said over and over again that David was the bestboy that widowed mother ever possessed, and that he was the comfort ofher life. But her eye never brightened at his approach, as it did whenOwen came and sat by her side; to David she gave her approval, but toOwen she gave of the fulness of her mother's love.
He was an exacting boy, and from those who gave much, he demanded more.
Though David was the eldest and the heir, Owen had double his allowanceof pocket money when at school; but then Owen was delicate, fastidious,refined; he needed small indulgences, that would have been wasted onDavid's coarser strength. He was taught accomplishments, for he was aninborn artist, and his musical ear was fine. At Oxford he entered anexpensive and learned college, but then his intellect was of the firstorder. For every indulgence he demanded, an excuse was found; and forevery granted indulgence, he was only loved the more.
To the worship of his women folks, Owen returned an easy, nonchalantregard; but David he loved, to David he gave his strongest and deepestaffection. And yet David was the only one who opposed him, the only onewho was not carried away by his fascinations, the only one who read himaright; and some of the heaviest burdens of David's youth, had beenborne because of, and through Owen. I heard it dimly whispered, firstin the early college days, something about Owen and his wild oats. Itcame to me through the servants, and I did not know what it meant. Iwas an innocent country child, I had never even read a novel. Owen wassowing his wild oats. I remember puzzling over the phrased I shouldhave forgotten what was to me so meaningless an expression, but for someevents that happened about the same time. Mother got some letters,which she would not show to me, which she carried away to her own roomto read, returning to my presence, some time after, with her eyes redwith weeping. Then there was a visit from a man, a lawyer, nurse Gweninformed me, who brought with him piles of papers, and was closeted withmother for the best part of a day; and soon after, most wonderful ofall, David came home suddenly, in the middle of the term, came homewithout Owen, and I was informed that Owen had gone abroad for a time,and that David was not going back to Oxford any more. David settleddown quietly at home, without taking his degree, and his coming of age,which took place a couple of months after, was let pass without anycelebration. This made a deep impression on me, for we four, mother,David, Owen, and I, had so often spoken of it, and of the grand thingsthat should then be done. Never a Morgan had come of age yet, withoutoxen being roasted whole, without beer and cider flowing
freely, withoutdancing and festivity. But this Morgan stepped into his honoursquietly; the day unnoticed, except by an extra kiss from mother andsister, his brother far away, his own brow thoughtful, and alreadyslightly careworn.
The tenants were angry, and voted him stingy--close--an unworthy son ofthe ancient race, no true chip of the old block, and fresh signs of whatthey considered closeness and nearness, were soon forthcoming. Severalservants, amongst them the housekeeper, were dismissed, theestablishment was put upon a smaller scale, a humble pony phaeton wassubstituted for the old and time-honoured family coach. I was twelveyears old at that time, a good deal with nurse Gwen, and many words,unmeant for my ears, were heard by me. The substance of them all lay inthis remark--
"If the young master gave the tenants any more of his closeness, hewould be the least popular Squire Morgan who ever lived at