The Throwback

Chapter eight

It might be said that old Mr Flawse's reading matter made itself manifest next morning in the hall of the peel tower which his grandfather had restored to more than its former elegance. A contemporary of Sir Walter Scott and a voracious reader of his novels, he had turned what had been a fortified byre for cattle into a banqueting hall with plaster chasing and ornamental crests, while from the rafters there hung the tattered and entirely concocted battle-flags of half a dozen fictitious regiments. Time and moths had lent these standards a gauzelike authenticity while rust had etched a handiwork into the suited armour and armoury that they had never possessed when he had bought them. And armour and arms were everywhere. Hel-meted figures stood against the walls and above them, interspersed with the stuffed heads of stags, moose, antelope and bear, and even one tiger, were the swords and battle-axes of bygone wars.

It was in this bellicose setting, with a great fire blazing in the hearth and smoke filtering up among the flags, that Mr Flawse chose to have his will read. Seated before him at a huge oak table were his nearest and supposedly dearest: Lockhart, Mrs Flawse, Jessica in a coma of romance, Mr Bullstrode the solicitor, who was to read the will, two tenant farmers to witness its signature, and Dr Magrew to certify that Mr Flawse was, as he proclaimed, of sound mind.

'The ceremony must be conducted under the most stringent of legal and jurisprudent conditions,' Mr Flawse had instructed, and so it was. He might just as well have added that the late and great Thomas Carlyle would lend the weight of his rhetorical authority to the proceedings, and certainly there were strains of the Sage of Ecchilfeccan in the old man's opening address. His words rang in the rafters and while for legal reasons the will contained few commas, Mr Flawse made good this deficiency by larding his speech with semi-colons.

'You are gathered here today,' he announced raising his coat-tails to the fire, 'to hear the last will and testament of Edwin Tyndale Flawse; once widowed and twice married; father of the late and partially lamented Clarissa Richardson Flawse; grandfather of her illegitimate offspring, Lockhart Flawse, whose father being unknown, I have out of no greatness of heart but that innate and incontrovertible practicality of mind which congenitally the family Flawse numbers most firmly among its features, adopted as my heir in the male line. But of the consequentiality of that anon; 'tis not of such low bestial

matters that I speak; more lofty themes become my song, if song it be that old men sing out of their memories of what might have been; and I am old and near to death.'

He paused for breath and Mrs Flawse stirred expectantly in her seat. Mr Flawse regarded her with a gleaming predatory eye. 'Aye, ma'am, well may you squirm; your turn for dotage won't delay; death's bony finger beckons and we must obey; that black oblivion is our certain destination. Certain beyond all other certainties; the one fixed star in the firmament of man's experience; all else being loose and circumstantial and incoordinate, we can but set our sextant by that star of non-existence, death, to measure what and where we are. Which I being ninety now see shining brighter and more darkly brilliant than before. And so towards the grave we move along the tramlines of our thoughts and deeds, those grooves of character which we, being born with them, are much beholden to and by, but which by virtue of their tiny flaws allow us unintentionally to exercise that little freedom which is man. Aye, is man, is. No animal knows freedom; only man; and that by fault of gene and chemical congeneracy. The rest is all determined by our birth. So like an engine is a man, all steam and fire and pressure building up, he yet must move along predestined lines towards that end which is the end of all of us. Before you stands a semi-skeleton, all bones and skull with but a little spirit to ligature with life these odds and ends. And presently the parchment of my flesh shall break; all spirit flown; and shall my soul awake? I know not nor can ever know till death decides to answer yes or no. Which said I do not dis-esteem myself. I am yet here before you in this hall and you are gathered now to hear my will. My will? A strange word for the dead to claim; their will; when matters of decision are lost to those they leave behind. Their will; the supposition only of a wish. But I forestall that chance by setting forth before you now my will; and will it be in all the many meanings of that word. For I have laid conditions down which you will shortly hear and hearing do or forfeit all that fortune I have left to you.'

The old man paused and looked into their faces before continuing. 'You wonder why I look?' he asked. 'To see one spark of some defiance in your eyes. One spark, that's all, one spark that yet might tell this partial skeleton to go to hell. Which it would at the least be ironical to conclude was indeed my destination. But I see it not; greed snuffs the candle of your courage out. You, ma'am,' he pointed a finger at Mrs Flawse, 'an undernourished vulture has more patience perched upon an upas tree than you with your squat backside on that bench.'

He paused but Mrs Flawse said nothing. Her little eyes narrowed with calculating hatred.

'Does nothing then provoke you to reply? No, but I know your thoughts; time runneth on; the metronome of heartbeats swings more slow and soon my threnody, a little premature perhaps, will cease. The grave I lie in will give you satisfaction. Let me forestall it for you, ma'am. And now the bastard Flawse. Have you defiance, sir, or did your education din it out of you?'

'Go to hell,' said Lockhart. -

The old man smiled. 'Better, better, but prompted all the same. I told you what to say and you obeyed. But here's a better test.' Mr Flawse turned and took a battle-axe from the wall and held it out.

'Take it, bastard,' he said. 'Take the axe.'

Lockhart rose and took it.

'It was the custom of the Norsemen when a man grew old to cleave him headless with an axe,' continued Mr Flawse, 'it was the duty of his eldest son. Now having none but you, a ditch-born bastard grandson, take on the onus of this act and-'

'No,' said Jessica rising from her chair and grabbing the axe from Lockhart. 'I won't have it. You've got no right to put temptation in his way.'

The old man clapped his hands. 'Bravo. Now that's more like it. The bitch has better spirit than the dog. A flicker of spirit but spirit all the same. And I salute it. Mr Bullstrode, read the will.' And exhausted by his rhetoric old Mr Flawse sat down. Mr Bullstrode rose theatrically and opened the will.

'I, Edwin of Tyndale Flawse, being of sound mind and feeble yet sufficient body to sustain my mind, do hereby leave bequeath and devise all my worldly goods chattels property and land to my wife, Mrs Cynthia Flawse, for to have and to hold in trust and in use until her own death demise departure from this place which place being defined more closely is the radius of one mile from Flawse Hall and on condition that she do not sell mortgage rent borrow pledge or pawn a single or multiple of the possessions so bequeathed left and devised and in no way improves alters adds or amends the amenities of the said property possession chattels and house but subsists upon the income alone in recognition of which undertaking she signs herewith this will as being a binding contract to obey its strictures.'

Mr Bullstrode put down the will and looked at Mrs Flawse. 'Will you so sign?' he asked, but Mrs Flawse was in a flux of emotions. The old man had lived up to his word after all. He had left her his entire estate. Coming so shortly after being compared to a vulture this act of generosity had thrown her calculating compass off course. She needed time to think. It was denied her.

'Sign, ma'am,' said Mr Flawse, 'or the will becomes null and void in so far as it appertains to you.'

Mrs Flawse took the pen and signed and her signature was witnessed by the two tenant farmers.

'Continue, Mr Bullstrode,- said the old man almost gaily and Mr Bullstrode took up the will again.

'To my grandson Lockhart Flawse I leave nothing except my name until and unless he shall have produced in physical form the person of his natural father which father shall be proved to the satisfaction of my executor Mr Bullstrode or his successors to be the actual and admitted and undoubted father of the said Lockhart and shall have signed an affidavit to that effect which affidavit having been signed he shall be flogged by the said Lockhart to within an inch of his life. In the event of these aforestated conditions in regard to the proof of his paternity having been met the terms of the will in respect of my wife Cynthia Flawse as stated above her freely given signature shall and will become automatically null and void and the estate property chattels land and possessions pass in toto to my grandson Lockhart Flawse to do with whatsoever he chooses. To my servant Donald Robson Dodd I leave the use of my house and provender meat drink dogs and horse for as long as he shall live and they survive.'

Mr Bullstrode stopped and old Mr Flawse stepping up to the table picked up the pen. 'Am I in sound mind?' he asked Dr Magrew.

'Yes,' said the doctor, 'I attest that you are in sound mind/

'Hear that,' said Mr Flawse to the two tenant farmers who nodded accordingly. 'You will witness that I am in sound mind when I sign this will.'

There was a sudden scream from Mrs Flawse. 'Sound mind? You're as mad as a hatter. You've cheated me. You said you would leave everything to me and now you've added a clause saying that I forfeit all right to inherit if… if… if that illegitimate creature finds his father.'

But Mr Flawse ignored her outburst and signed the will. 'Away with you, woman,' he said, handing the pen to one of the farmers, 'I kept my word and you'll keep mine or lose every penny I've left you.'

Mrs Flawse eyed the axe lying on the long table and then sat down defeated. She had been hoodwinked. 'There's nothing to say that I have to stay here while you are still alive. I shall leave first thing tomorrow.'

Mr Flawse laughed. 'Ma'am,' he said, 'you have signed a contract to remain here for the rest of your life or redress me for the loss of your presence to the tune of five thousand pounds a year.'

'I have done nothing of the sort,' screamed Mrs Flawse. 'I signed-'

But Mr Bullstrode handed her the will. 'You will find the clause on page one,' he said.

Mrs Flawse gaped at him incredulously and then followed his finger down the page. 'But you didn't read that out,' she said as the words swam before her eyes. 'You didn't read out "In the event of my wife Cynthia Flawse leaving…" Oh my God!' And she sank back into her chair. The clause was there in black on white.

'And now that the thing is signed, sealed and delivered,' said Mr Flawse as Bullstrode folded the extraordinary document and slipped it into his briefcase, 'let us drink a health to Death.'

'To Death?' said Jessica, still bemused by the bizarre romance of the scene.

Mr Flawse patted her radiant cheek fondly. 'To Death, my dear, the only thing we have in common,' he said, 'and the great leveller! Mr Dodd, the decanter of Northumbrian whisky.'

Mr Dodd disappeared through the door. 'I didn't know they made whisky in Northumberland,' said Jessica warming to the old man, 'I thought it was Scotch.'

'There are many things you don't know and Northumbrian whisky's among them. It used to be distilled in these parts by the gallon but Dodd's the only man with a still left. You see these walls? Ten feet thick. There used to be a saying hereabouts, "Six for the Scots and four for the Excise men." And it would be a canny man who would find the entrance but Dodd knows.'

In proof of this remark Mr Dodd reappeared with a decanter of whisky and a tray of glasses. When the glasses were all filled Mr Flawse rose and the others followed. Only Mrs Flawse remained seated.

'I refuse to drink to Death,' she muttered stubbornly. 'It's a wicked toast.'

'Aye, ma'am, and it's a wicked world,' said Mr Flawse, 'but you'll drink all the same. It's your only hope.'

Mrs Flawse got unsteadily to her feet and regarded him with loathing.

'To the Great Certainty,' said Mr Flawse and his voice rang among the battle-flags and armour.

Later after a lunch served in the dining-room Lockhart and Jessica walked across Flawse Fell. The afternoon sunlight shone down on the coarse grass and a few sheep stirred as they climbed Flawse Rigg.

'Oh, Lockhart, I wouldn't have missed today for all the world,' said Jessica when they reached the top. 'Your grandfather is the darlingest old man.'

It was not a superlative Lockhart would have applied to his grandfather and Mrs Flawse, white-faced in her room, would have used its opposite. But neither voiced their opinion. Lockhart because Jessica was his beloved angel and her opinion was not to be disputed and Mrs Flawse because she had no one to voice it to. Meanwhile Mr Bullstrode and Dr Magrew sat on with Mr Flawse at the mahogany table sipping port and engaged in that philosophical disputation to which their common background made them prone.

'I did not approve your toast to Death,' said Dr Magrew. 'It goes against my Hippocratic oath and besides it's a contradiction in terms to drink to the health of that which by its very nature cannot be called healthy.'

'Are you not confusing health with life?' said Mr Bullstrode. 'And by life I mean the vital element. Now the law of nature has it that every living thing shall die. That, sir, I think you will not deny.'

'I cannot,' said Dr Magrew, 'it is the truth. On the other hand I would question your right to call a dying man healthy. In all my experience as a practitioner of medicine I cannot recall being present at the deathbed of a healthy man.'

Mr Flawse rapped his glass to gain attention and the decanter. 'I think we are ignoring the factor of unnatural death,' he said refilling his glass. 'You doubtless know the conundrum of the fly and the locomotive. A perfectly healthy fly is travelling at twenty miles an hour in exactly the opposite direction to a locomotive travelling at sixty. The locomotive and the fly collide and the fly is instantaneously dead but in dying it stopped travelling forward at twenty miles per hour and reversed its motion at sixty. Now, sir, if the fly stopped and began reverse progress is it not also true that for it to do so the locomotive must also have stopped if for but the millionth of a second of the fly's stopping, and more germane to our argument is it not true that the fly died healthy?'

Mr Bullstrode poured himself more port and considered the problem but it was the doctor who took up the cudgels. 'If the locomotive stopped for a millionth of a second and about that, being no engineer. I cannot speak and must take your word for it, then it is also true that for that millionth of a second the fly was in an extremely unhealthy state. We have but to extend time in proportion to the life-expectancy of a fly to see that this is so. A fly's natural term of life is, I believe, limited to a single day, whereas the human term is three-score years and ten, present company excepted. In short a fly can look forward to approximately eighty-six thousand four hundred seconds of conscious existence whereas the human being can count on two billion one hundred and seven million five hundred and twenty seconds between birth and death. I leave it to you to discern the difference in lifetime of one millionth of a second for the fly and its equivalent length in a human's. At short notice I calculate the latter to be of the order of magnitude of five and a half minutes. Certainly sufficient time in which to diagnose the patient as being unhealthy.'

Having disposed of the fly argument and the rest of the contents of his glass Dr Magrew sat back in his chair triumphantly.

It was Mr Bullstrode's turn to apply the methods of the law to the problem. 'Let us take the question of capital punishment,' he said. 'It was one of the proudest boasts of the penal system that no man went to the gallows unless he was fit to be hanged. Now a fit man is a healthy man and since death by hanging is instantaneous a murderer died healthy.'

But Dr Magrew was not to be put down so easily. 'Semantics, sir, semantics. You say that a murderer going to the gallows is fit to be hanged. Now I would have it that no man who murders is fit to live. We can turn these things on their heads. It all depends on one's viewpoint.'

'Aye, there's the rub,' said Mr Flawse, 'from what viewpoint should we look at things? Now, lacking any firmer ground than that afforded by my own experience, which has been largely confined to dogs and their habits, I would say we should start a little lower on the evolutionary scale than primates. It is a common saying that dog eats dog. The man who said it first did not know dogs. Dogs do not eat dogs. They work in packs and a pack animal is not a cannibal. It depends upon its fellows to bring down its prey and being dependent has the morality of a social being, an instinctive morality but morality for all that. Man on the other hand has no natural or instinctive morality. The process of history proves the contrary and the history of religion reinforces it. If there were any natural morality in man there would be no need for religion or indeed for law. And yet without morality man would not have survived. Another conundrum, gentlemen; science destroyed the belief in God upon which morality depended for its source; science has likewise substituted the means for man's destruction; in short we are without that moral sense that has saved us from extinction in the past and in possession of the means of extinguishing ourselves in the future. A bleak future, gentlemen, and one I trust I shall not be here to experience.'

'And what advice would you offer the future generation, sir?' inquired Mr Bullstrode.

'That which Cromwell gave his Roundheads,' said Mr Flawse. 'To put their faith in God and keep their powder dry.'

'Which is to suppose that God exists,' said Dr Magrew.

'Which is to suppose no such thing,' said Mr Flawse. 'Faith is one thing; knowledge quite another. It were too easy otherwise.'

'Then you fall back on tradition, sir,' said Mr Bullstrode approvingly. 'As a lawyer I find much to commend your attitude.'

'I fall back on my family,' said Mr Flawse. 'The inheritance of characteristics is a fact of nature. It was Socrates who said "Know thyself." I would go further and say to know thyself one must first know thy ancestry. It is the key to my instructions to the bastard. Let him find out who his father was and then his grandfather and even further back and then he'll find himself.'-

'And having found himself, what then?' asked Mr Bullstrode.

'Be himself,' said Mr Flawse, and promptly fell asleep.