The Two Admirals. Джеймс Фенимор Купер
it has; and ever will, I trust. You have only to select an heir, when I am gone, and by making a will, with proper devises, the property will not escheat. Be careful to use the full terms of perpetuity.”
“Every thing was so comfortable, brother, while you were in health,” said Sir Wycherly, fidgeting; “you were my natural heir – “
“Heir of entail,” interrupted the judge.
“Well, well, heir, at all events; and that was a prodigious comfort to a man like myself, who has a sort of religious scruples about making a will. I have heard it whispered that you were actually married to Martha; in which case, Tom might drop into our shoes, so readily, without any more signing and sealing.”
“A filius nullius,” returned the other, too conscientious to lend himself to a deception of that nature.
“Why, brother, Tom often seems to me to favour such an idea, himself.”
“No wonder, Wycherly, for the idea would greatly favour him. Tom and his brothers are all filii nullorum, God forgive me for that same wrong.”
“I wonder neither Charles nor Gregory thought of marrying before they lost their lives for their king and country,” put in Sir Wycherly, in an upbraiding tone, as if he thought his penniless brethren had done him an injury in neglecting to supply him with an heir, though he had been so forgetful himself of the same great duty. “I did think of bringing in a bill for providing heirs for unmarried persons, without the trouble and responsibility of making wills.”
“That would have been a great improvement on the law of descents – I hope you wouldn’t have overlooked the ancestors.”
“Not I – everybody would have got his rights. They tell me poor Charles never spoke after he was shot; but I dare say, did we know the truth, he regretted sincerely that he never married.”
“There, for once, Wycherly, I think you are likely to be wrong. A femme sole without food, is rather a helpless sort of a person.”
“Well, well, I wish he had married. What would it have been to me, had he left a dozen widows?”
“It might have raised some awkward questions as to dowry; and if each left a son, the title and estates would have been worse off than they are at present, without widows or legitimate children.”
“Any thing would be better than having no heir. I believe I’m the first baronet of Wychecombe who has been obliged to make a will!”
“Quite likely,” returned the brother, drily; “I remember to have got nothing from the last one, in that way. Charles and Gregory fared no better. Never mind, Wycherly, you behaved like a father to us all.”
“I don’t mind signing cheques, in the least; but wills have an irreligious appearance, in my eyes. There are a good many Wychecombes, in England; I wonder some of them are not of our family! They tell me a hundredth cousin is just as good an heir, as a first-born son.”
“Failing nearer of kin. But we have no hundredth cousins of the whole blood.”
“There are the Wychecombes of Surrey, brother Thomas – ?”
“Descended from a bastard of the second baronet, and out of the line of descent, altogether.”
“But the Wychecombes of Hertfordshire, I have always heard were of our family, and legitimate.”
“True, as regards matrimony – rather too much of it, by the way. They branched off in 1487, long before the creation, and have nothing to do with the entail; the first of their line coming from old Sir Michael Wychecombe, Kt. and Sheriff of Devonshire, by his second wife Margery; while we are derived from the same male ancestor, through Wycherly, the only son by Joan, the first wife. Wycherly, and Michael, the son of Michael and Margery, were of the half-blood, as respects each other, and could not be heirs of blood. What was true of the ancestors is true of the descendants.”
“But we came of the same ancestor, and the estate is far older than 1487.”
“Quite true, brother; nevertheless, the half-blood can’t take; so says the perfection of human reason.”
“I never could understand these niceties of the law,” said Sir Wycherly, sighing; “but I suppose they are all right. There are so many Wychecombes scattered about England, that I should think some one among them all might be my heir!”
“Every man of them bears a bar in his arms, or is of the half-blood.”
“You are quite sure, brother, that Tom is a filius nullus?” for the baronet had forgotten most of the little Latin he ever knew, and translated this legal phrase into “no son.”
“Filius nullius, Sir Wycherly, the son of nobody; your reading would literally make Tom nobody; whereas, he is only the son of nobody.”
“But, brother, he is your son, and as like you, as two hounds of the same litter.”
“I am nullus, in the eye of the law, as regards poor Tom; who, until he marries, and has children of his own, is altogether without legal kindred. Nor do I know that legitimacy would make Tom any better; for he is presuming and confident enough for the heir apparent to the throne, as it is.”
“Well, there’s this young sailor, who has been so much at the station lately, since he was left ashore for the cure of his wounds. ‘Tis a most gallant lad; and the First Lord has sent him a commission, as a reward for his good conduct, in cutting out the Frenchman. I look upon him as a credit to the name; and I make no question, he is, some way or other, of our family.”
“Does he claim to be so?” asked the judge, a little quickly, for he distrusted men in general, and thought, from all he had heard, that some attempt might have been made to practise on his brother’s simplicity. “I thought you told me that he came from the American colonies?”
“So he does; he’s a native of Virginia, as was his father before him.”
“A convict, perhaps; or a servant, quite likely, who has found the name of his former master, more to his liking than his own. Such things are common, they tell me, beyond seas.”
“Yes, if he were anything but an American, I might wish he were my heir,” returned Sir Wycherly, in a melancholy tone; “but it would be worse than to let the lands escheat, as you call it, to place an American in possession of Wychecombe. The manors have always had English owners, down to the present moment, thank God!”
“Should they have any other, it will be your own fault, Wycherly. When I am dead, and that will happen ere many weeks, the human being will not be living, who can take that property, after your demise, in any other manner than by escheat, or by devise. There will then be neither heir of entail, nor heir at law; and you may make whom you please, master of Wychecombe, provided he be not an alien.”
“Not an American, I suppose, brother; an American is an alien, of course.”
“Humph! – why, not in law, whatever he may be according to our English notions. Harkee, brother Wycherly; I’ve never asked you, or wished you to leave the estate to Tom, or his younger brothers; for one, and all, are filii nullorum – as I term ‘em, though my brother Record will have it, it ought to be filii nullius, as well as filius nullius. Let that be as it may; no bastard should lord it at Wychecombe; and rather than the king; should get the lands, to bestow on some favourite, I would give it to the half-blood.”
“Can that be done without making a will, brother Thomas?”
“It cannot, Sir Wycherly; nor with a will, so long as an heir of entail can be found.”
“Is there no way of making Tom a filius somebody, so that he can succeed?”
“Not under our laws. By the civil law, such a thing might have been done, and by the Scotch law; but not under the perfection of reason.”
“I wish you knew this young Virginian! The lad bears both of my names, Wycherly Wychecombe.”
“He is not