“And I will tell you our reason,” she added, “and all about it. I am come on to give you notice that Papa and Mamma are out of spirits this evening, especially Mamma. She is thinking so much of poor Richard! And we agreed it would be best to have the harp, for it seems to amuse her more than the pianoforte. I will tell you why she is out of spirits. When the Crofts called this morning, they happened to say that her brother, Captain Wentworth, is just returned to England—or paid off, or something—and is coming to see them almost directly. And most unluckily it came into Mamma’s head when they were gone that Wentworth, or something very like it, was the name of poor Richard’s captain at one time. I do not know when or where, but a great while before he died, poor fellow! And upon looking over his letters and things, she found it was so, and is perfectly sure that this must be the very man, and her head is quite full of it, and of poor Richard! So we must all be as merry as we can, that she may not be dwelling upon such gloomy things.”
— Louisa Musgrove, Persuasion, Chapter 6
October, 1814 – Uppercross Hall, Somersetshire
“There, there, Mamma. You must not take on so,” begged Charles Musgrove for the third time, patting the good lady’s hand.
“Oh, but I am well, I declare I am,” sobbed Mrs. Musgrove. “I cannot help myself, thinking of your poor, lost brother! Oh, Richard!” The mistress of the Great House at Uppercross could say no more.
The entirety of the Musgrove family, save the younger Mrs. Musgrove, had gathered in the parlor at the request of Mrs. Musgrove—the elder Mrs. Musgrove, it should be made clear. Mrs. Mary Musgrove was invited to the assemblage, but she begged off, her visiting sister, Miss Anne Elliot, being the principal excuse. Besides, the Musgroves were to dine at Uppercross Cottage that evening and, in any case, Mary’s ailments had returned to a small extent.
Mary Musgrove was not missed.
The elder Mrs. Musgrove held station at one end of the settee, her youngest daughter, Louisa, sat next to her, holding her hand, while her son, Charles, knelt at her feet to attend his mother. The eldest daughter, Henrietta, prepared tea for the family.
A moment later, Mr. Charles Musgrove the elder came into the room. In his hands was a small cask.
“I have it here, my dear!”
Mrs. Musgrove tore herself away from her children’s loving attentions.
“Oh! What a precious burden you carry, my dear! Pray give it to me this instant.”
No sooner was the request made than it was accomplished, and the family gathered about the chest containing the last few memories of the late Richard Musgrove, midshipman of the Royal Navy.
Reverently, Mrs. Musgrove opened the box. In it was a miniature of a young man of middling age, looks, and deportment, his naval uniform doing little to improve his appearance. With trembling hands did she raise the icon to her lips.
“Alas, my poor, poor lost Richard!” She kissed it, wetting the miniature with her tears. She handed the object to her husband, who sighed a great, sad sigh before passing it to his surviving son.
Charles scrutinized the painting. “A charitable likeness, to be sure. Dickie never was in good looks.”
“Charles!” cried his mother. “How can you say such a thing?”
“What? Do I say aught but the truth? Dickie could not be called handsome—not with those beady eyes and that weak chin.” He gave the miniature to Henrietta.
“For shame, son.” His father’s scold was mild. “Speak no ill of your brother.”
Louisa gazed at the miniature in Henrietta’s hands. “His uniform fits him ill. Of that there is no doubt.” Noticing the looks of censure from her parents, she quickly added, “I am sure he filled it out admirably as he grew!”
“He was very young when he left us,” observed Henrietta.
“He was indeed, and young still when he fell!” Mrs. Musgrove retrieved the miniature and held it to her chest.
Mr. Musgrove laid a hand on his spouse’s shoulder. “We must be consoled that he gave his life for the king, my dear.”
“He died of a cold,” mumbled Charles.
“What was that, dear?”
“Nothing, Mamma.”
She gingerly returned the portrait to the cask, withdrawing from it an insignificant stack of letters, tied with a navy blue bow.
“Here are his letters—our last words from dear, dear Richard.” She placed the treasured collection the table, undid the bow, and looked through the stack. “I know they are here. Ah! Here are Richard’s letters from his time on the Laconia! Read them aloud, my love.”
Mr. Musgrove took two thin letters from his wife’s hand. He opened the first and adjusted his spectacles.
“‘June, 1812, off Gibraltar. Dear Mother & Father. I have had the very great fortune of securing a berth on HMS Laconia, a very fine 36-gun frigate, commanded by Captain Wentworth, renowned for his action off—’”
“There, Captain Wentworth!” injected Mrs. Musgrove. “I should have recognized that name from the first instant! The famous Captain Wentworth. Richard served under no better captain than he.”
“Indeed, you are right, my dear,” replied her husband. “Now where was I? “Ah! ‘Wentworth is known as “Fighting Freddie” in the fleet and has had very good luck in finding and capturing prizes.’ Fighting Freddie? That is a strange name, upon my word. ‘I know I shall make my fortune at last! Therefore, I ask that you send only a few pounds—ten, if you can—by return post.’”
“Would not it have been fine if poor Richard had remained with Captain Wentworth? I am sure he would have been promoted and made rich with prize money!”
Charles picked up the other letters. It was generous to refer to them as such, for there were barely more than four lines inside any of them.
“It would have been good thing indeed, Mamma. It would have saved Papa a considerable amount of money.”
“Take care with Richard’s letters, Charles.”
“Letters! I would not call these demands for my father’s money letters.”
“Now, Charles,” said Mr. Musgrove, “a midshipman’s pay is very little. A man needs something to live on.”
Charles huffed. “I do not doubt you, but I observe it would have been better had Dickie peppered his petitions with a few inquiries about his family.”
“A sailor’s lot is a hard one,” Mr. Musgrove defended his late son. “I am sure Richard had little time for writing.”
Charles pointedly turned to the stack of thin missives, raised his eyebrows, and said nothing.
Mr. Musgrove held out the other letter. “You see, he asks most kindly about our health in his second letter from the Laconia.”
“Poor Richard,” lamented Mrs. Musgrove. “He always was a kindhearted boy!”
“Kindhearted?” stammered Charles. “I believe your memories are clouded by sentiment. I would not call Dickie kindhearted.”
“Remember when he took my dolly?” piped up Henrietta. “It was ages before we found where he had hidden her.”
“He used to pull my hair,” added Louisa.
“Now, now, girls,” replied Mr. Musgrove, “we must make allowances for his young age. The boy always had high spirits!”
“High spirits, indeed!” cried Charles. “Was it high spirits that caused him to ruin my first fowling piece by shooting rocks out of it? The barrel was never right again.”
Mrs. Musgrove’s crying reached new levels. “Oh, my poor, poor Richard!”
Mr. Musgrove scowled at his eldest. “Now look what you did!”
Charles colored and attempted to make amends. “Mamma, please be easy. We all miss poor Richard exceedingly. Do we not, Sisters?”
Henrietta and Louisa instantly agreed and tenderly consoled their mother. After a few moments, the good lady was able to manage, “We must always remember what a good, loving boy he was. How sad he was buried at sea! Why could the navy not send him home? He could have rested here at Uppercross, and we could visit his grave on Sundays.”
“Mamma,” said Charles, “the navy does not ship home lost sailors. Besides, there is a certain romance to being buried at sea.”
“They do, they do, Charles! What of Lord Nelson? The navy brought him back to England!” she pointed out.
Charles gaped. “Mamma, that was Nelson!”
“I see no difference between him and any other mother’s son.”
Charles circumspectly rolled his eyes. “It is rather a bother to do so in any case, Mamma. They must place the body in a barrel filled with spirits of wine.”
Mrs. Musgrove howled in revulsion.
“Of course, they have to eviscerate it first.”
“Charles!” cried his father.
“Did I say something amiss, Papa?”
Mr. Musgrove hugged his nearly inconsolable wife while glaring at Charles. “That is quite enough of that! Apologize to your mother!”
Charles, while not the keenest wit in the room, was a good son who loved his mother. He professed his most sincere regrets over his unthinking words. Henrietta and Louisa copied their mother, lamenting the loss of “poor Richard,” and Mr. Musgrove took away the scarred case of remembrance to better soothe the family’s feelings. Soon afterwards, Charles took his leave, expressing pleasant anticipation of seeing them all at the Cottage that evening.
His sisters later conducted a tête-à-tête.
“Mamma is so low over this unhappy business of poor Richard,” observed Louisa.
Henrietta agreed. “Papa hides it better, but he is sadly affected, too.”
A small scowl marred the usual, bubbly expression of the youngest Musgrove sister. “You know how Mary is! She can be disagreeable at the best of times. This melancholy will surely trigger one of her spells!”
“If only there was something we could do!” Henrietta thought for a moment. “I know! Music always makes Mamma feel better. I will bring my harp with us to the Cottage!”
“What an excellent idea!” cried Louisa. “Mamma enjoys music so! Perhaps Miss Anne will join you on the pianoforte in a duet!” The pretty young girl frowned again. “Oh, if only Brother had married Anne instead of Mary!”
“Let us not dwell on that! I have just realized a difficulty to our plan. Should we carry my harp to the Cottage, there will not be enough room for all of us in the coach!”
“Oh, I had not thought of that! You are right.”
Henrietta sighed. “I must leave my harp here.”
“Nonsense!” exclaimed Louisa. “I will go ahead on foot, announcing our intentions. Mary dislikes surprises unless they are for her own benefit.”
“Such a distance! Oh, kind sister, I cannot ask it of you!”
“It is but a step or two. I have walked there many a time without damage, and I shall do it again. Say nothing more of it; I am determined! Besides, Mamma loves your instrument above all things. It is sure to banish all her gloomy thoughts.”
“Then we are agreed!” The sisters exchanged a kiss on the cheek. “Let us inform Papa of our plans and retire upstairs to dress.”
“Yes, of course!” Louisa grew gloomy again. “Alas, poor Richard—and poor Charles, too! Our brothers have had a sad lot, indeed.”
It would make me sad if you didn’t leave a comment. Just sayin’.
Want to refresh your memory with Jane’s Austen’s original work? Read Persuasion on Austen variations HERE.
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Hilarious!!! I had such a laugh, Jack! Dickie with his ill-fitting uniform was brilliant. Thank you for making my day.
Author
Thank you.
I loved reading this post! The siblings all remembering how mean Poor Dickie was Of course a parent would remember with fondness…and as Monica said, “the ill-fitting uniform was brilliant.” I have a bit of a sick sense of humor, so, I found the eviscerated body being placed in a barrel of spirits of wine and the family’s reaction laughable, since it made the sisters side with their mama. I am so glad Mary wasn’t there…although it might have made the scene even funnier. Thank you for the humorous start to my morning! 😉
Author
I also have ” a bit of a sick sense of humor,” as I’m sure you can tell! Thanks for reading!
I agree the eviscerated body in the spirits was brillant. The bland Charles just opening his mouth and let it roll. Poor Mrs. Musgrove…mother’s often have a hard time seeing their sons as others do. Mary would have swooned for attention had she been there. Good thing she stayed with Anne, who would have enjoyed this episode.
Author
I’ve always seen Charles Musgrove as this fine, cheerful, slightly simple gentleman who sometimes needs a filter. One can either cringe or laugh.
The boy was probably not even twelve years old when he was sent off. I have never understood Austen’s slighting remarks about a boy or the mother’s fat sighs.
Richard Edgeworth brought up his son Richard according to the precepts of Rousseau where the child was not disciplined and nnot made to study anything. When the child was about ten, his father thought he was an unmannerly lout and shipped him off to the navy to be disciplined. The boy was probably not as pleasant a baby and young boy as Charles had been-Charles was obviously the petted heir– but I don’t see why Austen made fun of Mrs. Musgrove’s fat sighs for a boy no one much liked. LIttle boys can be demions but really how bad could a nine year old be ?
It was quite common to send boys off to the navy at 10 or so, Even Earl Spencer sent two of his off. The boys had no choice. Once inthe navy it was either do well or be flogged to death.
Author
Thanks for reading and commenting!
Jane Austen had two brothers in the Royal Navy, both rising to Admiral, so her views were undoubtedly influenced by their experiences. Boys were indeed young when they entered the navy, but there was a difference between midshipmen, or “young gentlemen,” and cabin boys.
Midshipmen were the sons of the gentry, and they were trained to become officers. It was strange to have 13 or 14 year-olds giving orders to men old enough to be their fathers, but such was life in the navy. For promotion, the boys had to pass examinations to make lieutenant. While discipline could be harsh, it was nothing compared to what occurred “before the mast.”
The cabin boys were like the rest of the crew. Advancement was limited without education. The punishments were harsh, as well. Only non-commissioned men were flogged.
For more information, I refer you to Richard O’Neil’s “Patrick O’Brian’s Navy,” an excellent resource about life in the Royal Navy during the Napoleonic Wars.
I have several books on life in the navy including Jane Austen and the Navy Dudley Pope’s Life in nelson’s Navy, the Wooden World, Social Life of the navy, and others. I also have read a bit about Jane Austen’s brothers . Richard Musgrove was a member of the gentry so was probably in the same class as Austen’s brothers. It seems Charles Austen was as ready to follow his brother Francis as Jane was to follow Cassandra. These boys did have a choice of the navy or the church. Earl Spencer’s sons had no choice but they were not sent away because of misbehaviour, nor was their absence unremarked , at least by their sister.
Still, I think that saying that a ten year old boy — or even a twelve year old brat was never missed nor truly grieved for is a bit harsh . One can always grieve for lost potential.
Nancy-Little boys at nine or ten can be a trial and a half! One of my friends sons wound up going to military school at 11 because he thought it fun to start fires and use his sisters dolls for fuel. He was also known to hide his father’s keys and phone and then never be able to tell anyone where he put them. I think the final straw was when he told one of his teacher’s he’d been beaten up and not fed for a week so he could get out of school. After Child Services got involved it was time for a change in his life. LOL
Jack, as usual so very well done. Fighting Freddie huh? Well, when you’re fighting memories it makes you fight everyone else methinks. =D I guess Poor Dickie had the face and temperament only a mother could love?
Author
I forgot to remind everyone they may enjoy this entry better if they re-read our introduction to Richard “Dickie” Musgrove here –
The Tale of Dick Musgrove, Scrub:
(https://austenvariations.com/persuasion-200-the-tale-of-dick-musgrove-scrub-as-told-by-jack-caldwell/)
That was a lovely lunchtime read! Thank you. 🙂
Author
Thank you.
My favorite: “Yes, of course!” Louisa grew gloomy again. “Alas, poor Richard—and poor Charles, too! Our brothers have had a sad lot, indeed.”
This was a good read, especially made interesting when we heard of all the mischief Dickie got into within his own family. I have a brother, a son, a grandson and, also, taught in elementary school and worked in Children’s Services so know first hand how much energy boys seem to have over that of girls. They can’t seem to sit still even in school until about age 8. Ironically, my Bible Study group has, also, often commented how the unrest/wars in the world are due to male testosterone. And, if not in battle, they have to butt heads on the athletic fields or in the arena. Everything is a competition.
Thanks for the chapter, Jack.
Author
It is true wars can be caused by testosterone, but so were great cities and useful inventions. Competition built civilization. Throughout history, women have tamed men, and thank goodness for it. The One who made us knew what He was doing.
Oh, Jack, I just knew you’d do something extraordinary with this scene! So much in this to laugh and smile about that it would be hard to choose a favorite moment. It could be the ill-fitting uniform or the way Charles keeps inserting reality into the conversation, but I thought I’d lose it when you started talking about preseving the body in a barrel. So like Charles to be matter-of-fact about something like that since he’s a hunter. Thanks for starting my day with a smile. Brilliant!
Author
Glad I came through for you!
Had a good chuckle over Charles’ comments. I’m sure that Charles never forgave ‘Dicke’ for ruining his first fowling piece.
Author
Of course he didn’t.
I am new to this site but love these additions to my favorite book. These additions have a wonderful insight that I think Ms. Austen would be proud of.
Author
On behalf of us AuVar writers, thank you!
This installment made me laugh…how differently the Musgrove children remember Poor Dickie than their parents…Charles was hilarious and Louisa very insightful…Louisa grew gloomy again. “Alas, poor Richard—and poor Charles, too! Our brothers have had a sad lot, indeed.” This was a nice break from the sadness that Anne endures, looking forward to her happy ending..
Author
The Musgroves were the “comic relief” of Persuasion, such as they were.
Great read as always, Jack!
Author
Thanks, buddy!
Heh-heh! Charles is willing to see the truth about his brother, but the rest of his family is not so willing. I wonder if Mrs Musgrove will show her Dickie’s letters to the Admiral and Mrs Croft during one of your weeks to write…
Thanks for the giggles, Jack!
Author
Charles is not quite as dumb as some people think. He only made one mistake, and her name is Mary.
I enjoyed your characterizations! Distance and time does make memories fonder, especially for rogues like Dickie!
Author
His siblings remember what a scrub Dickie was. Thanks!
This is brilliant, Jack. I loved Charles Musgrove (junior’s) asides, esp re dying of a cold and what they might have had to do to the body to get it back home.
Loved it!
Author
That’s good ole Charles, always ready to insert foot in mouth!
You captured the scene so well, Jack. I know it is ungrateful for Charles to say bad things about his younger brother. But the truth is when someone you love passes away, parents always dwell on the good and ignore the negative things while siblings can remember the past well – the good and the bad.
It’s good of you to tie in with the original story on how the harp ended up at the cottage. I’m off to catch up on the other instalments now.