MEHETABEL IT MUST BE.
In at the barn door came Mrs. Verstage, Iver's mother.
"Iver! Wot's up?"
"Oh, mother!"
"Where's that babe?"
"Here, mother, on the ground."
"On the ground! Good life! Sowsed, soaked through and through,
whatever have you been doin'? Holdin' it under the spout?"
"Baptizin' it, mother."
"Baptizin' of it?" The woman stared.
"I thought the creetur was dyin'."
"Well, and wot then?"
"Mother. Lest it shud take to wanderin'."
"Baptizin' of it. Dear life! And what did you call it?"
"Mehetabel."
"Mehetabel! 'Taint a human name."
"It is, mother. It's a Scriptur name."
"Never heard on it."
"Mehetabel was the wife of Hadar."
"And who the dickens was Hadar?"
"He was a dook--a dook of Edom."
In the churchyard of Thursley stands a large white stone, on
which is carved a medallion, that contains the representation
of a man falling on the ground, with one arm raised in deprecation,
whilst two men are robbing and murdering him, and a third is
represented as acting sentinel lest the ruffians should be
surprised. On the ground are strewn the garments of the man who
is being killed. Beneath this rudely sculptured group is this
inscription:--
I N M E M O R Y O F
A generous, but unfortunate Sailor,
Who was barbarously murdered on Hind Head,
On September 24th, 1786,
B Y T H R E E V I L L A I N S,
After he had liberally treated them and promised
them his farther Assistance on the Road
to Portsmouth.
In the "Royal Huts," a tavern, in which now very good entertainment
for man and beast may be had, a tavern which stands somewhat
further along the way to Portsmouth than Hind Head, may be seen
at this day some rude contemporary paintings representative of
the murder.
The ruffians after having killed their victim, robbed him, not
only of his money, but also of his clothes, and hastened on their
way.
A hue and cry were raised, when the corpse had been discovered,
and the men were arrested upon the following day at Sheet, near
Peterhead, and were found in possession of the clothing of the
deceased. In due course of time they were tried at Kingston, and
on the 7th of April, 1787, were hung and gibbeted in chains on
Hind Head Hill, beside the old road and close to the scene of
their crime.
A cross now marks the summit, and indicates the spot where stood
the gallows, and a stone for some time pointed out the locality
where the murder was committed. When, however, the new Portsmouth
Road was cut further down the hill, skirting the Punch-Bowl at a
lower level, then the stone was removed to the side of the new
road. At present it is an object visited by vast numbers of
holiday-makers, who seem to take almost as lively an interest
in the crime that was committed over a century ago as if it were
an event of the present day. At the time the murder aroused the
greatest possible excitement in the neighborhood, and pre-eminently
in the parish of Thursley.
As may be gathered from the wording of the inscription on the
tombstone that covers the victim, his name never transpired. No
relations claimed the right to bury him. None appeared to take
charge of his orphan child.
The parish fretted, it fumed, it protested. But fret, fume, and
protest availed nothing, it had to defray the cost of the funeral,
and receive and lap the child in its parochial mercies.
A deceased wife's sister undoubtedly existed somewhere. Such was
the conviction of every parishioner. The poor man was on his way
to Portsmouth to deposit his child with her when the tragic event
took place. Why did she not come forward? Why did she hold her
tongue?
Had there existed in her bosom one particle of natural feeling
she would not have remained mute and motionless, and allowed the
parish to bury her brother-in-law and encumber itself with her
niece.
So the parish talked, appealingly, argumentatively, blusteringly,
objurgatively, but all to no purpose. The deceased wife's sister
kept mum, and invisible. Reluctantly, resentfully, the parish was
finally obliged to face the facts, pay the expenses of the
interment, and settle that a weekly dole should be afforded for
the maintenance of the child, and as that deceased wife's sister
did not appear, the parochial bile overflowed upon the hapless
babe, who came to be regarded as an incubus on the ratepayers and
a general nuisance.
The one difficulty that solved itself--ambulando, was that as to
who would take charge of the child. That was solved by the hostess
of the Ship.
The parish endeavored to cajole the good woman into receiving the
babe as a gift from Heaven, and to exact no compensation for her
labors in rearing it, for the expense of clothing, feeding,
educating it. But Mrs. Verstage was deaf to such solicitations.
She would take charge of the child, but paid she must be. Eventually
the parochial authorities, after having called a vestry, and sat
three hours in consultation, and to "knuckle under," as the hostess
expressed it, and allow a trifle for the entertainment of the
little waif.
So the matter was settled.
Then another had to be determined. What about the christening
performed in the shed by Iver? What about the outlandish name
given the child? The landlady raised no question on these heads
till it was settled that the little being was to be an inmate of
her house, and under her care. Then she reasoned thus--"Either
this here child be a Mehetabel or she bain't. Either it's a
Christian or it's a heathen. What is it? Is it fish, is it flesh,
or is it good red herring? It ain't no use my calling her Mehetabel
if she bain't nothing of the sort. And it ain't no use teachin'
her the caterplasm, if she ha'n't been made a Christian. I'll go
and ax the pa'son."
Accordingly the good woman took Iver by the shoulder and dragged
him to Witley Vicarage, and stated her case and her difficulties.
The Vicar had already had wind of what had occurred. Thursley was
at the period a chapelry in the extensive parish of Witley, and
the church therein had, before the Reformation, been regularly
served by the monks of Witley Abbey. It was afterwards more or
less irregularly supplied with sacred ministrations from the
mother-church, and had no resident pastor.
In former days the parishioners were never very sure whether there
was to be a service in Church at Thursley or not. The sexton was
on the look-out, and if he saw the parson's wig glimmering over
the hedge top, as he rode along, then he at once rushed to the
bell-rope and announced to such of the parishioners as were within
hearing, that there was to be divine service. If there were no
service, then those who had come from a distance in expectation of
devotion, retired to the tavern and drank and gossiped, and were
not disposed to cavil. The Church of Thursley is curious, it has
a central bell-tower supported on huge beams of oak, such oaks they
must have been as are never seen now. Those desiring to see the
parson had to seek him in the Vicarage of the mother parish.
Mrs. Verstage accordingly had to go with her boy to Witley.
"If the boy gave a name," said the parson.
"He did, your Reverence, and such a name."
"What is it?"
"Mehetabel."
"Wherever did you pick up that name?" asked the Vicar, turning to
the boy.
"Please, sir, we was doin' the Dooks of Edom in Sunday-school.
We'd already learned David's mighty men, and could run 'em off
like one o'clock, and--I don't know how it was, sir, but the name
slipped out o' my mouth wi'out a thought. You see, sir, we had so
many verses to say for next Sunday, and I had some of the Dooks of
Edom to repeat."
"Oh! So you gave it the name of one of the Dukes."
"Please, sir, no. Mehetabel was the wife of one, she was married
to his Grace, Dook Hadar."
"Oh, Hadar! to be sure, quite so; quite so! Very good boy, glad
you are so well primed in all things necessary to salvation."
"And is the child to be called Mehetabel?" asked the woman.
"That depends," said the Vicar. "How did the boy perform the
sacred function?"
"Please, sir," said Iver, "I did it as your Honor does, after the
second lesson on Sunday afternoon, and the churching."
"He hadn't no surplice on," argued the mother.
"You had a bowl of pure water?" asked the parson.
"Yes, sir, rain water. I caught it out of the spout."
"And the words used?"
"The same as you say, sir; exactly."
The parson rubbed his chin.
"Was it done in thoughtlessness--in irreverent folly?"
"Oh, no, sir! I did it in sober earnest. I thought the child was
going to die."
"Of course," said the Vicar, "lay baptism is valid, even if
administered by a Dissenter; but--it is very unusual, very much so."
"I didn't do all that about the cross," observed Iver, "because the
cat jumped and upset the bowl."
"Of course, of course. That belongs to the reception into the
church, and you couldn't do that as it was--"
"In Bideabout's basin," said Iver.
"You are certain the water touched the child?"
"Soused her," responded the hostess. "She caught a tremendous
cold out o' it, and has been runnin' at the nose ever since."
"I think the very best thing we can do," said the Vicar, "is that
I should baptize the child conditionally, in church,--conditionally
mind."
"And call her by another name?" asked the woman.
"I do not think I can do that."
"It's a terrible mouthful," observed Mrs. Verstage.
"I daresay that in practice you will be able to condense it. As
for that boy of yours, ma'am, I should like a word with him, by
himself."
"So, the creetur must bide Mehetabel?"
"Mehetabel it must be."