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CHAPTER XII
A MAN JUSTLY POPULAR
Now although Mr. Faggus was so clever, and generous,
and celebrated, I know not whether, upon the whole, we
were rather proud of him as a member of our family, or
inclined to be ashamed of him. And indeed I think that
the sway of the balance hung upon the company we were
in. For instance, with the boys at Brendon--for there
is no village at Oare--I was exceeding proud to talk of
him, and would freely brag of my Cousin Tom. But with
the rich parsons of the neighbourhood, or the justices
(who came round now and then, and were glad to ride up
to a warm farm-house), or even the well-to-do tradesmen
of Porlock--in a word, any settled power, which was
afraid of losing things--with all of them we were very
shy of claiming our kinship to that great outlaw.
And sure, I should pity, as well as condemn him though
our ways in the world were so different, knowing as I
do his story; which knowledge, methinks, would often
lead us to let alone God's prerogative--judgment, and
hold by man's privilege--pity. Not that I would find
excuse for Tom's downright dishonesty, which was beyond
doubt a disgrace to him, and no credit to his kinsfolk;
only that it came about without his meaning any harm or
seeing how he took to wrong; yet gradually knowing it.
And now, to save any further trouble, and to meet those
who disparage him (without allowance for the time or
the crosses laid upon him), I will tell the history of
him, just as if he were not my cousin, and hoping to be
heeded. And I defy any man to say that a word of this
is either false, or in any way coloured by family.
Much cause he had to be harsh with the world; and yet
all acknowledged him very pleasant, when a man gave up
his money. And often and often he paid the toll for
the carriage coming after him, because he had emptied
their pockets, and would not add inconvenience. By
trade he had been a blacksmith, in the town of
Northmolton, in Devonshire, a rough rude place at the
end of Exmoor, so that many people marvelled if such a
man was bred there. Not only could he read and write,
but he had solid substance; a piece of land worth a
hundred pounds, and right of common for two hundred
sheep, and a score and a half of beasts, lifting up or
lying down. And being left an orphan (with all these
cares upon him) he began to work right early, and made
such a fame at the shoeing of horses, that the farriers
of Barum were like to lose their custom. And indeed he
won a golden Jacobus for the best-shod nag in the north
of Devon, and some say that he never was forgiven.
As to that, I know no more, except that men are
jealous. But whether it were that, or not, he fell
into bitter trouble within a month of his victory; when
his trade was growing upon him, and his sweetheart
ready to marry him. For he loved a maid of Southmolton
(a currier's daughter I think she was, and her name was
Betsy Paramore), and her father had given consent; and
Tom Faggus, wishing to look his best, and be clean of
course, had a tailor at work upstairs for him, who had
come all the way from Exeter. And Betsy's things were
ready too--for which they accused him afterwards, as if
he could help that--when suddenly, like a thunderbolt,
a lawyer's writ fell upon him.
This was the beginning of a law-suit with Sir Robert
Bampfylde, a gentleman of the neighbourhood, who tried
to oust him from his common, and drove his cattle and
harassed them. And by that suit of law poor Tom was
ruined altogether, for Sir Robert could pay for much
swearing; and then all his goods and his farm were sold
up, and even his smithery taken. But he saddled his
horse, before they could catch him, and rode away to
Southmolton, looking more like a madman than a good
farrier, as the people said who saw him. But when he
arrived there, instead of comfort, they showed him the
face of the door alone; for the news of his loss was
before him, and Master Paramore was a sound, prudent
man, and a high member of the town council. It is said
that they even gave him notice to pay for Betsy's
wedding-clothes, now that he was too poor to marry her.
This may be false, and indeed I doubt it; in the first
place, because Southmolton is a busy place for talking;
and in the next, that I do not think the action would
have lain at law, especially as the maid lost nothing,
but used it all for her wedding next month with Dick
Vellacott, of Mockham.
All this was very sore upon Tom; and he took it to
heart so grievously, that he said, as a better man
might have said, being loose of mind and property, 'The
world hath preyed on me like a wolf. God help me now
to prey on the world.'
And in sooth it did seem, for a while, as if Providence
were with him; for he took rare toll on the highway,
and his name was soon as good as gold anywhere this
side of Bristowe. He studied his business by night and
by day, with three horses all in hard work, until he
had made a fine reputation; and then it was competent
to him to rest, and he had plenty left for charity.
And I ought to say for society too, for he truly loved
high society, treating squires and noblemen (who much
affected his company) to the very best fare of the
hostel. And they say that once the King's
Justitiaries, being upon circuit, accepted his
invitation, declaring merrily that if never true bill
had been found against him, mine host should now be
qualified to draw one. And so the landlords did; and
he always paid them handsomely, so that all of them
were kind to him, and contended for his visits. Let it
be known in any township that Mr. Faggus was taking his
leisure at the inn, and straightway all the men flocked
thither to drink his health without outlay, and all the
women to admire him; while the children were set at the
cross-roads to give warning of any officers. One of
his earliest meetings was with Sir Robert Bampfylde
himself, who was riding along the Barum road with only
one serving-man after him. Tom Faggus put a pistol to
his head, being then obliged to be violent, through
want of reputation; while the serving-man pretended to
be along way round the corner. Then the baronet
pulled out his purse, quite trembling in the hurry of
his politeness. Tom took the purse, and his ring, and
time-piece, and then handed them back with a very low
bow, saying that it was against all usage for him to
rob a robber. Then he turned to the unfaithful knave,
and trounced him right well for his cowardice, and
stripped him of all his property.
But now Mr. Faggus kept only one horse, lest the
Government should steal them; and that one was the
young mare Winnie. How he came by her he never would
tell, but I think that she was presented to him by a
certain Colonel, a lover of sport, and very clever in
horseflesh, whose life Tom had saved from some
gamblers. When I have added that Faggus as yet had
never been guilty of bloodshed (for his eyes, and the
click of his pistol at first, and now his high
reputation made all his wishes respected), and that he
never robbed a poor man, neither insulted a woman, but
was very good to the Church, and of hot patriotic
opinions, and full of jest and jollity, I have said as
much as is fair for him, and shown why he was so
popular. Everybody cursed the Doones, who lived apart
disdainfully. But all good people liked Mr.
Faggus--when he had not robbed them--and many a poor
sick man or woman blessed him for other people's money;
and all the hostlers, stable-boys, and tapsters
entirely worshipped him.
I have been rather long, and perhaps tedious, in my
account of him, lest at any time hereafter his
character should be misunderstood, and his good name
disparaged; whereas he was my second cousin, and the
lover of my--But let that bide. 'Tis a melancholy
story.
He came again about three months afterwards, in the
beginning of the spring-time, and brought me a
beautiful new carbine, having learned my love of such
things, and my great desire to shoot straight. But
mother would not let me have the gun, until he averred
upon his honour that he had bought it honestly. And so
he had, no doubt, so far as it is honest to buy with
money acquired rampantly. Scarce could I stop to make
my bullets in the mould which came along with it, but
must be off to the Quarry Hill, and new target I had
made there. And he taught me then how to ride bright
Winnie, who was grown since I had seen her, but
remembered me most kindly. After making much of Annie,
who had a wondrous liking for him--and he said he was
her godfather, but God knows how he could have been,
unless they confirmed him precociously--away he went,
and young Winnie's sides shone like a cherry by
candlelight.
Now I feel that of those boyish days I have little more
to tell, because everything went quietly, as the world
for the most part does with us. I began to work at the
farm in earnest, and tried to help my mother, and when
I remembered Lorna Doone, it seemed no more than the
thought of a dream, which I could hardly call to mind.
Now who cares to know how many bushels of wheat we grew
to the acre, or how the cattle milched till we ate
them, or what the turn of the seasons was? But my
stupid self seemed like to be the biggest of all the
cattle; for having much to look after the sheep, and
being always in kind appetite, I grew four inches
longer in every year of my farming, and a matter of two
inches wider; until there was no man of my size to be
seen elsewhere upon Exmoor. Let that pass: what odds
to any how tall or wide I be? There is no Doone's door
at Plover's Barrows and if there were I could never go
through it. They vexed me so much about my size, long
before I had completed it, girding at me with paltry
jokes whose wit was good only to stay at home, that I
grew shame-faced about the matter, and feared to
encounter a looking-glass. But mother was very proud,
and said she never could have too much of me.
The worst of all to make me ashamed of bearing my head
so high--a thing I saw no way to help, for I never
could hang my chin down, and my back was like a
gatepost whenever I tried to bend it--the worst of all
was our little Eliza, who never could come to a size
herself, though she had the wine from the Sacrament at
Easter and Allhallowmas, only to be small and skinny,
sharp, and clever crookedly. Not that her body was out
of the straight (being too small for that perhaps), but
that her wit was full of corners, jagged, and strange,
and uncomfortable. You never could tell what she might
say next; and I like not that kind of women. Now God
forgive me for talking so of my own father's daughter,
and so much the more by reason that my father could not
help it. The right way is to face the matter, and then
be sorry for every one. My mother fell grievously on a
slide, which John Fry had made nigh the apple-room
door, and hidden with straw from the stable, to cover
his own great idleness. My father laid John's nose on
the ice, and kept him warm in spite of it; but it was
too late for Eliza. She was born next day with more
mind than body--the worst thing that can befall a man.
But Annie, my other sister, was now a fine fair girl,
beautiful to behold. I could look at her by the
fireside, for an hour together, when I was not too
sleepy, and think of my dear father. And she would do
the same thing by me, only wait the between of the
blazes. Her hair was done up in a knot behind, but
some would fall over her shoulders; and the dancing of
the light was sweet to see through a man's eyelashes.
There never was a face that showed the light or the
shadow of feeling, as if the heart were sun to it, more
than our dear Annie's did. To look at her carefully,
you might think that she was not dwelling on anything;
and then she would know you were looking at her, and
those eyes would tell all about it. God knows that I
try to be simple enough, to keep to His meaning in me,
and not make the worst of His children. Yet often have
I been put to shame, and ready to bite my tongue off,
after speaking amiss of anybody, and letting out my
littleness, when suddenly mine eyes have met the pure
soft gaze of Annie.
As for the Doones, they were thriving still, and no one
to come against them; except indeed by word of mouth,
to which they lent no heed whatever. Complaints were
made from time to time, both in high and low quarters
(as the rank might be of the people robbed), and once
or twice in the highest of all, to wit, the King
himself. But His Majesty made a good joke about it
(not meaning any harm, I doubt), and was so much
pleased with himself thereupon, that he quite forgave
the mischief. Moreover, the main authorities were a
long way off; and the Chancellor had no cattle on
Exmoor; and as for my lord the Chief Justice, some
rogue had taken his silver spoons; whereupon his
lordship swore that never another man would he hang
until he had that one by the neck. Therefore the
Doones went on as they listed, and none saw fit to
meddle with them. For the only man who would have
dared to come to close quarters with them, that is to
say Tom Faggus, himself was a quarry for the law, if
ever it should be unhooded. Moreover, he had
transferred his business to the neighbourhood of
Wantage, in the county of Berks, where he found the
climate drier, also good downs and commons excellent
for galloping, and richer yeomen than ours be, and
better roads to rob them on.
Some folk, who had wiser attended to their own affairs,
said that I (being sizeable now, and able to shoot not
badly) ought to do something against those Doones, and
show what I was made of. But for a time I was very
bashful, shaking when called upon suddenly, and
blushing as deep as a maiden; for my strength was not
come upon me, and mayhap I had grown in front of it.
And again, though I loved my father still, and would
fire at a word about him, I saw not how it would do him
good for me to harm his injurers. Some races are of
revengeful kind, and will for years pursue their wrong,
and sacrifice this world and the next for a moment's
foul satisfaction, but methinks this comes of some
black blood, perverted and never purified. And I doubt
but men of true English birth are stouter than so to be
twisted, though some of the women may take that turn,
if their own life runs unkindly.
Let that pass--I am never good at talking of things
beyond me. All I know is, that if I had met the Doone
who had killed my father, I would gladly have thrashed
him black and blue, supposing I were able; but would
never have fired a gun at him, unless he began that
game with me, or fell upon more of my family, or were
violent among women. And to do them justice, my mother
and Annie were equally kind and gentle, but Eliza would
flame and grow white with contempt, and not trust
herself to speak to us.
Now a strange thing came to pass that winter, when I
was twenty-one years old, a very strange thing, which
affrighted the rest, and made me feel uncomfortable.
Not that there was anything in it, to do harm to any
one, only that none could explain it, except by
attributing it to the devil. The weather was very mild
and open, and scarcely any snow fell; at any rate, none
lay on the ground, even for an hour, in the highest
part of Exmoor; a thing which I knew not before nor
since, as long as I can remember. But the nights were
wonderfully dark, as though with no stars in the
heaven; and all day long the mists were rolling upon
the hills and down them, as if the whole land were a
wash-house. The moorland was full of snipes and teal,
and curlews flying and crying, and lapwings flapping
heavily, and ravens hovering round dead sheep; yet no
redshanks nor dottrell, and scarce any golden plovers
(of which we have great store generally) but vast
lonely birds, that cried at night, and moved the whole
air with their pinions; yet no man ever saw them. It
was dismal as well as dangerous now for any man to go
fowling (which of late I loved much in the winter)
because the fog would come down so thick that the pan
of the gun was reeking, and the fowl out of sight ere
the powder kindled, and then the sound of the piece was
so dead, that the shooter feared harm, and glanced over
his shoulder. But the danger of course was far less in
this than in losing of the track, and falling into the
mires, or over the brim of a precipice.
Nevertheless, I must needs go out, being young and very
stupid, and feared of being afraid; a fear which a wise
man has long cast by, having learned of the manifold
dangers which ever and ever encompass us. And beside
this folly and wildness of youth, perchance there was
something, I know not what, of the joy we have in
uncertainty. Mother, in fear of my missing
home--though for that matter, I could smell supper,
when hungry, through a hundred land-yards of fog--my
dear mother, who thought of me ten times for one
thought about herself, gave orders to ring the great
sheep-bell, which hung above the pigeon-cote, every
ten minutes of the day, and the sound came through the
plaits of fog, and I was vexed about it, like the
letters of a copy-book. It reminded me, too, of
Blundell's bell, and the grief to go into school again.
But during those two months of fog (for we had it all
the winter), the saddest and the heaviest thing was to
stand beside the sea. To be upon the beach yourself,
and see the long waves coming in; to know that they are
long waves, but only see a piece of them; and to hear
them lifting roundly, swelling over smooth green rocks,
plashing down in the hollow corners, but bearing on all
the same as ever, soft and sleek and sorrowful, till
their little noise is over.
One old man who lived at Lynmouth, seeking to be buried
there, having been more than half over the world,
though shy to speak about it, and fain to come home to
his birthplace, this old Will Watcombe (who dwelt by
the water) said that our strange winter arose from a
thing he called the 'Gulf-stream', rushing up Channel
suddenly. He said it was hot water, almost fit for a
man to shave with, and it threw all our cold water out,
and ruined the fish and the spawning-time, and a cold
spring would come after it. I was fond of going to
Lynmouth on Sunday to hear this old man talk, for
sometimes he would discourse with me, when nobody else
could move him. He told me that this powerful flood
set in upon our west so hard sometimes once in ten
years, and sometimes not for fifty, and the Lord only
knew the sense of it; but that when it came, therewith
came warmth and clouds, and fog, and moisture, and
nuts, and fruit, and even shells; and all the tides
were thrown abroad. As for nuts he winked awhile, and
chewed a piece of tobacco; yet did I not comprehend
him. Only afterwards I heard that nuts with liquid
kernels came, travelling on the Gulf stream; for never
before was known so much foreign cordial landed upon
our coast, floating ashore by mistake in the fog, and
(what with the tossing and the mist) too much astray to
learn its duty.
Folk, who are ever too prone to talk, said that Will
Watcombe himself knew better than anybody else about
this drift of the Gulf-stream, and the places where it
would come ashore, and the caves that took the
in-draught. But De Whichehalse, our great magistrate,
certified that there was no proof of unlawful
importation; neither good cause to suspect it, at a
time of Christian charity. And we knew that it was a
foul thing for some quarrymen to say that night after
night they had been digging a new cellar at Ley Manor
to hold the little marks of respect found in the
caverns at high-water weed. Let that be, it is none of
my business to speak evil of dignities; duly we common
people joked of the 'Gulp-stream,' as we called it.
But the thing which astonished and frightened us so,
was not, I do assure you, the landing of foreign
spirits, nor the loom of a lugger at twilight in the
gloom of the winter moonrise. That which made as
crouch in by the fire, or draw the bed-clothes over us,
and try to think of something else, was a strange
mysterious sound.
At grey of night, when the sun was gone, and no red in
the west remained, neither were stars forthcoming,
suddenly a wailing voice rose along the valleys, and a
sound in the air, as of people running. It mattered
not whether you stood on the moor, or crouched behind
rocks away from it, or down among reedy places; all as
one the sound would come, now from the heart of the
earth beneath, now overhead bearing down on you. And
then there was rushing of something by, and melancholy
laughter, and the hair of a man would stand on end
before he could reason properly.
God, in His mercy, knows that I am stupid enough for
any man, and very slow of impression, nor ever could
bring myself to believe that our Father would let the
evil one get the upper hand of us. But when I had
heard that sound three times, in the lonely gloom of
the evening fog, and the cold that followed the lines
of air, I was loath to go abroad by night, even so far
as the stables, and loved the light of a candle more,
and the glow of a fire with company.
There were many stories about it, of course, all over
the breadth of the moorland. But those who had heard
it most often declared that it must be the wail of a
woman's voice, and the rustle of robes fleeing
horribly, and fiends in the fog going after her. To
that, however, I paid no heed, when anybody was with
me; only we drew more close together, and barred the
doors at sunset.
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