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CHAPTER LIII
JEREMY FINDS OUT SOMETHING
'You know, my son,' said Jeremy Stickles, with a good
pull at his pipe, because he was going to talk so much,
and putting his legs well along the settle; 'it has
been my duty, for a wearier time than I care to think
of (and which would have been unbearable, except for
your great kindness), to search this neighbourhood
narrowly, and learn everything about everybody. Now
the neighbourhood itself is queer; and people have
different ways of thinking from what we are used to in
London. For instance now, among your folk, when any
piece of news is told, or any man's conduct spoken of,
the very first question that arises in your mind is
this--"Was this action kind and good?" Long after that,
you say to yourselves, "does the law enjoin or forbid
this thing?" Now here is your fundamental error: for
among all truly civilised people the foremost of all
questions is, "how stands the law herein?" And if the
law approve, no need for any further questioning. That
this is so, you may take my word: for I know the law
pretty thoroughly.
'Very well; I need not say any more about that, for I
have shown that you are all quite wrong. I only speak
of this savage tendency, because it explains so many
things which have puzzled me among you, and most of all
your kindness to men whom you never saw before; which
is an utterly illegal thing. It also explains your
toleration of these outlaw Doones so long. If your
views of law had been correct, and law an element of
your lives, these robbers could never have been
indulged for so many years amongst you: but you must
have abated the nuisance.'
'Now, Stickles,' I cried, 'this is too bad!' he was
delivering himself so grandly. 'Why you yourself have
been amongst us, as the balance, and sceptre, and sword
of law, for nigh upon a twelvemonth; and have you
abated the nuisance, or even cared to do it, until they
began to shoot at you?'
'My son,' he replied, 'your argument is quite beside
the purpose, and only tends to prove more clearly that
which I have said of you. However, if you wish to hear
my story, no more interruptions. I may not have a
chance to tell you, perhaps for weeks, or I know not
when, if once those yellows and reds arrive, and be
blessed to them, the lubbers! Well, it may be six
months ago, or it may be seven, at any rate a good
while before that cursed frost began, the mere name of
which sends a shiver down every bone of my body, when I
was riding one afternoon from Dulverton to Watchett'--
'Dulverton to Watchett!' I cried. 'Now what does that
remind me of? I am sure, I remember something--'
'Remember this, John, if anything--that another word
from thee, and thou hast no more of mine. Well, I was
a little weary perhaps, having been plagued at
Dulverton with the grossness of the people. For they
would tell me nothing at all about their
fellow-townsmen, your worthy Uncle Huckaback, except
that he was a God-fearing man, and they only wished I
was like him. I blessed myself for a stupid fool, in
thinking to have pumped them; for by this time I might
have known that, through your Western homeliness, every
man in his own country is something more than a
prophet. And I felt, of course, that I had done more
harm than good by questioning; inasmuch as every soul
in the place would run straightway and inform him that
the King's man from the other side of the forest had
been sifting out his ways and works.'
'Ah,' I cried, for I could not help it; 'you begin to
understand at last, that we are not quite such a set of
oafs, as you at first believed us.'
'I was riding on from Dulverton,' he resumed, with
great severity, yet threatening me no more, which
checked me more than fifty threats: 'and it was late in
the afternoon, and I was growing weary. The road (if
road it could be called) 'turned suddenly down from the
higher land to the very brink of the sea; and rounding
a little jut of cliff, I met the roar of the breakers.
My horse was scared, and leaped aside; for a northerly
wind was piping, and driving hunks of foam across, as
children scatter snow-balls. But he only sank to his
fetlocks in the dry sand, piled with pop-weed: and I
tried to make him face the waves; and then I looked
about me.
'Watchett town was not to be seen, on account of a
little foreland, a mile or more upon my course, and
standing to the right of me. There was room enough
below the cliffs (which are nothing there to yours,
John), for horse and man to get along, although the
tide was running high with a northerly gale to back it.
But close at hand and in the corner, drawn above the
yellow sands and long eye-brows of rackweed, as snug a
little house blinked on me as ever I saw, or wished to
see.
'You know that I am not luxurious, neither in any way
given to the common lusts of the flesh, John. My
father never allowed his hair to grow a fourth part of
an inch in length, and he was a thoroughly godly man;
and I try to follow in his footsteps, whenever I think
about it. Nevertheless, I do assure you that my view
of that little house and the way the lights were
twinkling, so different from the cold and darkness of
the rolling sea, moved the ancient Adam in me, if he
could he found to move. I love not a house with too
many windows: being out of house and doors some
three-quarters of my time, when I get inside a house I
like to feel the difference. Air and light are good
for people who have any lack of them; and if a man once
talks about them, 'tis enough to prove his need of
them. But, as you well know, John Ridd, the horse who
has been at work all day, with the sunshine in his
eyes, sleeps better in dark stables, and needs no moon
to help him.
'Seeing therefore that this same inn had four windows,
and no more, I thought to myself how snug it was, and
how beautiful I could sleep there. And so I made the
old horse draw hand, which he was only too glad to do,
and we clomb above the spring-tide mark, and over a
little piece of turf, and struck the door of the
hostelry. Some one came and peeped at me through the
lattice overhead, which was full of bulls' eyes; and
then the bolt was drawn back, and a woman met me very
courteously. A dark and foreign-looking woman, very
hot of blood, I doubt, but not altogether a bad one.
And she waited for me to speak first, which an
Englishwoman would not have done.
'"Can I rest here for the night?" I asked, with a lift
of my hat to her; for she was no provincial dame, who
would stare at me for the courtesy; "my horse is weary
from the sloughs, and myself but little better: beside
that, we both are famished."
'"Yes, sir, you can rest and welcome. But of food, I
fear, there is but little, unless of the common order.
Our fishers would have drawn the nets, but the waves
were violent. However, we have--what you call it? I
never can remember, it is so hard to say--the flesh of
the hog salted."
'"Bacon!" said I; "what can be better? And half dozen
of eggs with it, and a quart of fresh-drawn ale. You
make me rage with hunger, madam. Is it cruelty, or
hospitality?"
'"Ah, good!" she replied, with a merry smile, full of
southern sunshine: "you are not of the men round here;
you can think, and you can laugh!"
'"And most of all, I can eat, good madam. In that way
I shall astonish you; even more than by my intellect."
'She laughed aloud, and swung her shoulders, as your
natives cannot do; and then she called a little maid to
lead my horse to stable. However, I preferred to see
that matter done myself, and told her to send the
little maid for the frying-pan and the egg-box.
'Whether it were my natural wit and elegance of manner;
or whether it were my London freedom and knowledge of
the world; or (which is perhaps the most probable,
because the least pleasing supposition) my ready and
permanent appetite, and appreciation of garlic--I leave
you to decide, John: but perhaps all three combined to
recommend me to the graces of my charming hostess.
When I say "charming," I mean of course by manners and
by intelligence, and most of all by cooking; for as
regards external charms (most fleeting and fallacious)
hers had ceased to cause distress, for I cannot say how
many years. She said that it was the climate--for even
upon that subject she requested my opinion--and I
answered, "if there be a change, let madam blame the
seasons."
'However, not to dwell too much upon our little
pleasantries (for I always get on with these foreign
women better than with your Molls and Pegs), I became,
not inquisitive, but reasonably desirous to know, by
what strange hap or hazard, a clever and a handsome
woman, as she must have been some day, a woman moreover
with great contempt for the rustic minds around her,
could have settled here in this lonely inn, with only
the waves for company, and a boorish husband who slaved
all day in turning a potter's wheel at Watchett. And
what was the meaning of the emblem set above her
doorway, a very unattractive cat sitting in a ruined
tree?
'However, I had not very long to strain my curiosity;
for when she found out who I was, and how I held the
King's commission, and might be called an officer, her
desire to tell me all was more than equal to mine of
hearing it. Many and many a day, she had longed for
some one both skilful and trustworthy, most of all for
some one bearing warrant from a court of justice. But
the magistrates of the neighbourhood would have nothing
to say to her, declaring that she was a crack-brained
woman, and a wicked, and even a foreign one.
'With many grimaces she assured me that never by her
own free-will would she have lived so many years in
that hateful country, where the sky for half the year
was fog, and rain for nearly the other half. It was so
the very night when first her evil fortune brought her
there; and so no doubt it would be, long after it had
killed her. But if I wished to know the reason of her
being there, she would tell me in few words, which I
will repeat as briefly.
'By birth she was an Italian, from the mountains of
Apulia, who had gone to Rome to seek her fortunes,
after being badly treated in some love-affair. Her
Christian name was Benita; as for her surname, that
could make no difference to any one. Being a quick and
active girl, and resolved to work down her troubles,
she found employment in a large hotel; and rising
gradually, began to send money to her parents. And
here she might have thriven well, and married well
under sunny skies, and been a happy woman, but that
some black day sent thither a rich and noble English
family, eager to behold the Pope. It was not, however,
their fervent longing for the Holy Father which had
brought them to St. Peter's roof; but rather their own
bad luck in making their home too hot to hold them.
For although in the main good Catholics, and pleasant
receivers of anything, one of their number had given
offence, by the folly of trying to think for himself.
Some bitter feud had been among them, Benita knew not
how it was; and the sister of the nobleman who had died
quite lately was married to the rival claimant, whom
they all detested. It was something about dividing
land; Benita knew not what it was.
'But this Benita did know, that they were all great
people, and rich, and very liberal; so that when they
offered to take her, to attend to the children, and to
speak the language for them, and to comfort the lady,
she was only too glad to go, little foreseeing the end
of it. Moreover, she loved the children so, from their
pretty ways and that, and the things they gave her, and
the style of their dresses, that it would have broken
her heart almost never to see the dears again.
'And so, in a very evil hour, she accepted the service
of the noble Englishman, and sent her father an old
shoe filled to the tongue with money, and trusted
herself to fortune. But even before she went, she knew
that it could not turn out well; for the laurel leaf
which she threw on the fire would not crackle even
once, and the horn of the goat came wrong in the twist,
and the heel of her foot was shining. This made her
sigh at the starting-time; and after that what could
you hope for?
'However, at first all things went well. My Lord was
as gay as gay could be: and never would come inside the
carriage, when a decent horse could be got to ride. He
would gallop in front, at a reckless pace, without a
weapon of any kind, delighted with the pure blue air,
and throwing his heart around him. Benita had never
seen any man so admirable, and so childish. As
innocent as an infant; and not only contented, but
noisily happy with anything. Only other people must
share his joy; and the shadow of sorrow scattered it,
though it were but the shade of poverty.
'Here Benita wept a little; and I liked her none the
less, and believed her ten times more; in virtue of a
tear or two.
'And so they travelled through Northern Italy, and
throughout the south of France, making their way
anyhow; sometimes in coaches, sometimes in carts,
sometimes upon mule-back, sometimes even a-foot and
weary; but always as happy as could be. The children
laughed, and grew, and throve (especially the young
lady, the elder of the two), and Benita began to think
that omens must not be relied upon. But suddenly her
faith in omens was confirmed for ever.
'My Lord, who was quite a young man still, and laughed
at English arrogance, rode on in front of his wife and
friends, to catch the first of a famous view, on the
French side of the Pyrenee hills. He kissed his hand
to his wife, and said that he would save her the
trouble of coming. For those two were so one in one,
that they could make each other know whatever he or she
had felt. And so my Lord went round the corner, with a
fine young horse leaping up at the steps.
'They waited for him, long and long; but he never came
again; and within a week, his mangled body lay in a
little chapel-yard; and if the priests only said a
quarter of the prayers they took the money for, God
knows they can have no throats left; only a relaxation.
'My lady dwelled for six months more--it is a
melancholy tale (what true tale is not so?)--scarcely
able to believe that all her fright was not a dream.
She would not wear a piece or shape of any
mourning-clothes; she would not have a person cry, or
any sorrow among us. She simply disbelieved the thing,
and trusted God to right it. The Protestants, who have
no faith, cannot understand this feeling. Enough that
so it was; and so my Lady went to heaven.
'For when the snow came down in autumn on the roots of
the Pyrenees, and the chapel-yard was white with it,
many people told the lady that it was time for her to
go. And the strongest plea of all was this, that now
she bore another hope of repeating her husband's
virtues. So at the end of October, when wolves came
down to the farm-lands, the little English family went
home towards their England.
'They landed somewhere on the Devonshire coast, ten or
eleven years agone, and stayed some days at Exeter; and
set out thence in a hired coach, without any proper
attendance, for Watchett, in the north of Somerset.
For the lady owned a quiet mansion in the neighbourhood
of that town, and her one desire was to find refuge
there, and to meet her lord, who was sure to come (she
said) when he heard of his new infant. Therefore with
only two serving-men and two maids (including Benita),
the party set forth from Exeter, and lay the first
night at Bampton.
'On the following morn they started bravely, with
earnest hope of arriving at their journey's end by
daylight. But the roads were soft and very deep, and
the sloughs were out in places; and the heavy coach
broke down in the axle, and needed mending at
Dulverton; and so they lost three hours or more, and
would have been wiser to sleep there. But her ladyship
would not hear of it; she must be home that night, she
said, and her husband would be waiting. How could she
keep him waiting now, after such a long, long time?
'Therefore, although it was afternoon, and the year now
come to December, the horses were put to again, and the
heavy coach went up the hill, with the lady and her two
children, and Benita, sitting inside of it; the other
maid, and two serving-men (each man with a great
blunderbuss) mounted upon the outside; and upon the
horses three Exeter postilions. Much had been said at
Dulverton, and even back at Bampton, about some great
freebooters, to whom all Exmoor owed suit and service,
and paid them very punctually. Both the serving-men
were scared, even over their ale, by this. But the
lady only said, "Drive on; I know a little of
highwaymen: they never rob a lady."
'Through the fog and through the muck the coach went
on, as best it might; sometimes foundered in a slough,
with half of the horses splashing it, and some-times
knuckled up on a bank, and straining across the middle,
while all the horses kicked at it. However, they went
on till dark as well as might be expected. But when
they came, all thanking God, to the pitch and slope of
the sea-bank, leading on towards Watchett town, and
where my horse had shied so, there the little boy
jumped up, and clapped his hands at the water; and
there (as Benita said) they met their fate, and could
not fly it.
'Although it was past the dusk of day, the silver light
from the sea flowed in, and showed the cliffs, and the
gray sand-line, and the drifts of wreck, and
wrack-weed. It showed them also a troop of horsemen,
waiting under a rock hard by, and ready to dash upon
them. The postilions lashed towards the sea, and the
horses strove in the depth of sand, and the serving-men
cocked their blunder-busses, and cowered away behind
them; but the lady stood up in the carriage bravely,
and neither screamed nor spoke, but hid her son behind
her. Meanwhile the drivers drove into the sea, till
the leading horses were swimming.
'But before the waves came into the coach, a score of
fierce men were round it. They cursed the postilions
for mad cowards, and cut the traces, and seized the
wheel-horses, all-wild with dismay in the wet and the
dark. Then, while the carriage was heeling over, and
well-nigh upset in the water, the lady exclaimed, "I
know that man! He is our ancient enemy;" and Benita
(foreseeing that all their boxes would be turned inside
out, or carried away), snatched the most valuable of
the jewels, a magnificent necklace of diamonds, and
cast it over the little girl's head, and buried it
under her travelling-cloak, hoping to save it. Then a
great wave, crested with foam, rolled in, and the coach
was thrown on its side, and the sea rushed in at the
top and the windows, upon shrieking, and clashing, and
fainting away.
'What followed Benita knew not, as one might well
suppose, herself being stunned by a blow on the head,
beside being palsied with terror. "See, I have the
mark now," she said, "where the jamb of the door came
down on me!" But when she recovered her senses, she
found herself lying upon the sand, the robbers were out
of sight, and one of the serving-men was bathing her
forehead with sea water. For this she rated him well,
having taken already too much of that article; and then
she arose and ran to her mistress, who was sitting
upright on a little rock, with her dead boy's face to
her bosom, sometimes gazing upon him, and sometimes
questing round for the other one.
'Although there were torches and links around, and she
looked at her child by the light of them, no one dared
to approach the lady, or speak, or try to help her.
Each man whispered his fellow to go, but each hung back
himself, and muttered that it was too awful to meddle
with. And there she would have sat all night, with the
fine little fellow stone dead in her arms, and her
tearless eyes dwelling upon him, and her heart but not
her mind thinking, only that the Italian women stole up
softly to her side, and whispered, "It is the will of
God."
'"So it always seems to be," were all the words the
mother' answered; and then she fell on Benita's neck;
and the men were ashamed to be near her weeping; and a
sailor lay down and bellowed. Surely these men are the
best.
'Before the light of the morning came along the tide to
Watchett my Lady had met her husband. They took her
into the town that night, but not to her own castle;
and so the power of womanhood (which is itself
maternity) came over swiftly upon her. The lady, whom
all people loved (though at certain times particular),
lies in Watchett little churchyard, with son and heir
at her right hand, and a little babe, of sex unknown,
sleeping on her bosom.
'This is a miserable tale,' said Jeremy Stickles
brightly; 'hand me over the schnapps, my boy. What
fools we are to spoil our eyes for other people's
troubles! Enough of our own to keep them clean,
although we all were chimney-sweeps. There is nothing
like good hollands, when a man becomes too sensitive.
Restore the action of the glands; that is my rule,
after weeping. Let me make you another, John. You are
quite low-spirited.'
But although Master Jeremy carried on so (as became his
manhood), and laughed at the sailor's bellowing; bless
his heart, I knew as well that tears were in his brave
keen eyes, as if I had dared to look for them, or to
show mine own.
'And what was the lady's name?' I asked; 'and what
became of the little girl? And why did the woman stay
there?'
'Well!' cried Jeremy Stickles, only too glad to be
cheerful again: 'talk of a woman after that! As we used
to say at school--"Who dragged whom, how many times, in
what manner, round the wall of what?" But to begin,
last first, my John (as becomes a woman): Benita stayed
in that blessed place, because she could not get away
from it. The Doones--if Doones indeed they were, about
which you of course know best--took every stiver out of
the carriage: wet or dry they took it. And Benita
could never get her wages: for the whole affair is in
Chancery, and they have appointed a receiver.'
'Whew!' said I, knowing something of London, and sorry
for Benita's chance.
'So the poor thing was compelled to drop all thought of
Apulia, and settle down on the brink of Exmoor, where
you get all its evils, without the good to balance
them. She married a man who turned a wheel for making
the blue Watchett ware, partly because he could give
her a house, and partly because he proved himself a
good soul towards my Lady. There they are, and have
three children; and there you may go and visit them.'
'I understand all that, Jeremy, though you do tell
things too quickly, and I would rather have John Fry's
style; for he leaves one time for his words to melt.
Now for my second question. What became of the little
maid?'
'You great oaf!' cried Jeremy Stickles: 'you are rather
more likely to know, I should think, than any one else
in all the kingdoms.'
'If I knew, I should not ask you. Jeremy Stickles, do
try to be neither conceited nor thick-headed.'
'I will when you are neither,' answered Master Jeremy;
'but you occupy all the room, John. No one else can
get in with you there.'
'Very well then, let me out. Take me down in both
ways.'
'If ever you were taken down; you must have your double
joints ready now. And yet in other ways you will be as
proud and set up as Lucifer. As certain sure as I
stand here, that little maid is Lorna Doone.'
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