GENTLE AS A LAMB.
Of the nine people wounded in that Agoräic struggle, which cast expiring
lustre on the Fairs of Perlycross, every one found his case most serious
to himself, and still more so to his wife; and even solemn, in the
presence of those who had to settle compensation. Herniman had done some
execution, as well as received a nasty splinter of one leg, which broke
down after his hornpipe; and Kettel had mauled the man who rolled over
with him. But, as appeared when the case was heard, Tremlett had by no
means done his best; and his lawyer put it touchingly and with great
effect, that he was loth to smite the sons of his native county, when he
had just redeemed their glory, by noble discomfiture of Cornwall.
One man only had a parlous wound; and as is generally ordained in human
matters, this was the one most impartial of all, the one who had no
interest of his own to serve, the one who was present simply out of pure
benevolence, and a Briton's love of order. So at least his mother said;
and every one acknowledged that she was a woman of high reasoning
powers. Many others felt for him, as who would have done the same, with
like opportunity.
For only let a healthy, strong, and earnest-minded Englishman--to use a
beloved compound epithet of the day--hear of a hot and lawful fight
impending, with people involved in it, of whom he has some knowledge,
and we may trust him heartily to be there or thereabouts, to see--as he
puts it to his conscience--fair play. But an if he chance to be in love
just then, with a very large percentage of despair to reckon up, and one
of the combatants is in the count against him, can a doubt remain of his
eager punctuality?
This was poor Frank Gilham's case. Dr. Gronow was a prudent man, and
liked to have the legions on his side. He perceived that young Frank was
a staunch and stalwart fellow, sure to strike a good blow on a friend's
behalf. He was well aware also of his love for Christie, and could not
see why it should come to nothing. While Jemmy Fox's faith in the
resources of the law, and in his own prowess as a power in reserve, were
not so convincing to the elder mind. "Better make sure, than be too
certain," was a favourite maxim of this shrewd old stager; and so
without Jemmy's knowledge he invited Frank, to keep out of sight unless
wanted.
This measure saved the life of Dr. Fox, and that of Harvey Tremlett too,
some of whose brothers had adorned the gallows. Even as it was, Jemmy
Fox lay stunned, with the other man's arm much inserted in his hat.
Where he would have been without that arm for buffer, the Cherub, who
sits on the chimney-pots of Harley Street, alone can say. Happily the
other doctor was unhurt, and left in full possession of his wits, which
he at once exerted. After examining the wounded yeoman, who had fainted
from the pain and shock, he borrowed a mattress from the rectory, a
spring-cart and truss of hay from Channing the baker, and various other
appliances; and thus in spite of the storm conveyed both patients to
hospital. This was the _Old Barn_ itself, because all surgical needs
would be forthcoming there more readily, and so it was wiser to decline
Mr. Penniloe's offer of the rectory.
With the jolting of the cart, and the freshness of the air, Fox began to
revive ere long; and though still very weak and dizzy, was able to be of
some service at his own dwelling-place; and although he might not, when
this matter first arose, have shown all the gratitude which the sanguine
do expect, in return for Frank Gilham's loyalty, he felt very deep
contrition now, when he saw this frightful fracture, and found his own
head quite uncracked.
The six constables, though they had some black eyes, bruised limbs, and
broken noses, and other sources of regret, were (in strict matter of
fact, and without any view to compensation) quite as well as could be
expected. And as happens too often, the one who groaned the most had the
least occasion for it. It was only the wick of a lamp, that had dropped,
without going out, on this man's collar, and burned a little hole in his
_niddick_, as it used to be called in Devonshire.
Tremlett readily gave his word that no escape should be attempted; and
when Mrs. Muggridge came to know that this was the man who had saved her
master, nothing could be too good for him. So constables and prisoners
were fed and cared for, and stowed for the night in the long schoolroom,
with hailstones hopping in the fireplace.
In the morning, the weather was worse again; for this was a
double-barrel'd gale, as an ignorant man might term it; or rather
perhaps two several gales, arising from some vast disturbance, and
hitting into one another. Otherwise, why should it be known and
remembered even to the present day, as the great Ash-Wednesday gale,
although it began on Shrove-Tuesday, and in many parts raged most
fiercely then? At Perlycross certainly there was no such blast upon the
second day, as that which swept the Abbey down: when the wind leaped
suddenly to the west, and the sky fell open, as above recorded.
Upon that wild Ash-Wednesday forenoon, the curate stood in the
churchyard mourning, even more than the melancholy date requires. Where
the old Abbey had stood for ages (backing up the venerable church with
grand dark-robed solemnity, and lifting the buckler of ancient faith
above many a sleeping patriarch) there was nothing but a hideous gap,
with murky clouds galloping over it. Shorn of its ivy curtain by the
tempest of last Sunday, the mighty frame had reeled, and staggered, and
with one crash gone to ground last night, before the impetuous welkin's
weight.
"Is all I do to be always vain, and worse than vain--destructive,
hurtful, baneful, fatal I might say, to the very objects for which I
strive? Here is the church, unfinished, leaky, with one of its corners
gone underground, and the grand stone screen smashed in two; here is the
Abbey, or alas not here, but only an ugly pile of stones! Here is the
outrage to my dear friend, and the shame to the parish as black as ever;
for those men clearly know nothing of it. And here, or at any rate close
at hand, the sad drawback upon all good works; for at Lady-day in pour
the bills, and my prayers (however earnest) will not pay them. It has
pleased the Lord, in His infinite wisdom, to leave me very short of
cash."
Unhappily his best hat had been spoiled, in that interview with the four
vergers; and in his humility he was not sure that the one on his head
was good enough even to go to the Commination service. However it need
not have felt unworthy; for there was not a soul in the church to be
adjured, save that which had been under its own brim. The clerk was off
for Perliton, swearing--even at his time of life!--that he had been
subpoenaed, as if that could be on such occasion; and as for the pupils,
all bound to be in church, the Hopper had been ordered by the Constables
to present himself to the Magistrates (though all the Constables denied
it) and Pike, and Mopuss, felt it their duty to go with him.
In a word, all Perlycross was off, though services of the Church had not
yet attained their present continuity; and though every woman, and even
man, had to plod three splashy miles, with head on chest, in the teeth
of the gale up the river. How they should get into the room, when there,
was a question that never occurred to them. There they all yearned to
be; and the main part, who could not raise a shilling, or prove
themselves Uncles, or Aunts, or former sweethearts of the two Constables
who kept the door, had to crouch under dripping shrubs outside the
windows, and spoiled all Squire Mockham's young crocuses.
That gentleman was so upright, and thoroughly impartial, that to
counteract his own predilections for a champion wrestler, he had begged
a brother-magistrate to come and sit with him on this occasion; not Sir
Edwin Sanford, who was of the Quorum for Somerset, but a man of some
learning and high esteem, the well-known Dr. Morshead. Thus there would
be less temptation for any tattler to cry, "hole and corner," as
spiteful folk rejoice to do, while keeping in that same place
themselves. Although there was less perhaps of mischief-making in those
days than now; and there could be no more.
The Constables marched in, with puff and blow, like victors over rebels,
and as if they had carried the prisoners captive, every yard of the way,
from Perlycross. All of them began to talk at once, and to describe with
more vigour than truth the conflict of the night before. But Dr.
Morshead stopped them short, for the question of resistance was not yet
raised. What the Bench had first to decide was whether a case could be
made out for a _mittimus_, in pursuance of the warrant, to the next
Petty Sessions on Monday; whence the prisoners would be remitted
probably to the Quarter Sessions.
The two accused stood side by side (peaceful and decorous, as if they
were accustomed to it); and without any trepidation admitted their
identity. It was rather against their interests that the Official Clerk
was absent--this not being a stated meeting, but held for special
purpose--for Magistrates used to be a little nervous, without their
proper adviser; and in fear of permitting the guilty to escape, they
sometimes remanded upon insufficient grounds.
In the present case, there was nothing whatever to connect these two men
with the crime, except the testimony of Joe Crang, and what might be
regarded as their own admission, overheard by Dr. Fox. The latter was
not in court, nor likely so to be; and as for the blacksmith's evidence,
however positive it might seem, what did it amount to? And such as it
was, it was torn to rags, through the quaking of the deponent.
For a sharp little lawyer started up, as lawyers are sure to do
everywhere, and crossed the room to where Herniman sat, drumming the
floor with metallic power, and looking very stolid. But a glance had
convinced the keen Attorney, that here were the brains of the party, and
a few short whispers settled it. "Guinea, if 'e gets 'em off; if not,
ne'er a farden." "Right!" said the lawyer, and announced himself.
"Blickson, for the defence, your Worships--Maurice Blickson of
Silverton." The proper bows were interchanged; and then came Crang's
excruciation. Already this sturdy and very honest fellow, was as he
elegantly described it, in a "lantern-sweat" of terror. It is one thing
to tell a tale to two friends in a potato-field, and another to narrate
the same on oath, with four or five quills in mysterious march, two most
worshipful signors bending brows of doubt upon you, and thirty or forty
faces scowling at every word--"What a liar you be!" And when on the top
of all this, stands up a noble gentleman, with keen eyes, peremptory
voice, contemptuous smiles, and angry gestures, all expressing his
Christian sorrow, that the Devil should have so got hold of you,--what
blacksmith, even of poetic anvil (whence all rhythm and metre spring)
can have any breath left in his own bellows?
Joe Crang had fallen on his knees, to take the oath; as witnesses did,
from a holy belief that this turned the rungs of the gallows the wrong
way; and then he had told his little tale most sadly, as one who hopes
never to be told of it again. His business had thriven, while his health
was undermined; through the scores of good people, who could rout up so
much as a knife that wanted a rivet, or even a boy with one tooth
pushing up another; and though none of them paid more than fourpence for
things that would last them a fortnight to talk about, their money
stayed under the thatch, while Joe spent nothing but a wink for all his
beer.
But ah, this was no winking time! Crang was beginning to shuffle off,
with his knuckles to his forehead; and recovering his mind so loudly
that he got in a word about the quality of his iron--which for the rest
of his life he would have cited, to show how he beat they
Justesses--when he found himself recalled, and told to put his feet
together. This, from long practice of his art, had become a difficulty
to him, and in labouring to do it he lost all possibility of bringing
his wits into the like position. This order showed Blickson to be almost
a Verulam in his knowledge of mankind. Joe Crang recovered no
self-possession, on his own side of better than a gallon strong.
"Blacksmith, what o'clock is it now?"
Crang put his ears up, as if he expected the Church-clock to come to his
aid; and then with a rally of what he was hoping for, as soon as he got
round the corner, replied--"Four and a half, your honour."
"I need not remind your Worships," said Blickson, when the laughter had
subsided; "that this fellow's evidence, even if correct, proves nothing
whatever against my Clients. But just to show what it is worth, I will,
with your Worships' permission, put a simple question to him. He has
sworn that it was two o'clock on a foggy morning, and with no
Church-clock to help him, when he saw, in his night-mare this ghostly
vision. Perhaps he should have said--'four and a half;' which in broad
daylight is his idea of the present hour. Now, my poor fellow, did you
swear, or did you not, on a previous occasion, that one of the men who
so terrified you out of your heavy sleep, was Dr. James Fox--a
gentleman, Dr. Morshead, of your own distinguished Profession? Don't
shuffle with your feet, Crang, nor yet with your tongue. Did you swear
that, or did you not?"
"Well, if I did, twadn't arkerate."
"In plain English, you perjured yourself on that occasion. And yet you
expect their Worships to believe you now! Now look at the other man, the
tall one. By which of his features do you recognize him now, at four and
a half, in the morning?"
"Dun'now what veitchers be. Knows 'un by his size, and manner of
standin'. Should like to hear's voice, if no object to you, layyer."
"My friend, you call me by your own name. Such is your confusion of
ideas. Will your Worships allow me to assist this poor numskull? The
great Cornish wrestler is here, led by that noble fraternal feeling,
which is such a credit to all men distinguished, in any walk of life.
Mr. Polwarth of Bodmin, will you kindly stand by the side of your
brother in a very noble art?"
It was worth a long journey in bad weather (as Squire Mockham told his
guests at his dinner-party afterwards, and Dr. Morshead and his son
confirmed it) to see the two biggest growths of Devonshire and of
Cornwall standing thus amicably side by side, smiling a little slyly at
each other, and blinking at their Worships with some abashment, as if to
say--"this is not quite in our line."
For a moment the audience forgot itself, and made itself audible with
three loud cheers. "Silence!" cried their Worships, but not so very
sternly.
"Reckon, I could drow 'e next time;" said Cornwall.
"Wun't zay but what 'e maight;" answered Devon courteously.
"Now little blacksmith," resumed the lawyer, though Joe Crang was
considerably bigger than himself; "will you undertake to swear, upon
your hope of salvation, which of those two gentlemen you saw, that
night?"
Joe Crang stared at the two big men, and his mind gave way within him.
He was dressed in his best, and his wife had polished up his cheeks and
nose with yellow soap, which gleamed across his vision with a kind of
glaze, and therein danced pen, ink, and paper, the figures of the big
men, the faces of their Worships, and his own hopes of salvation.
"Maight 'a been Carnisher;" he began to stammer, with a desire to
gratify his county; but a hiss went round the room from Devonian sense
of Justice; and to strike a better balance, he finished in
despair--"Wull then, it waz both on 'em."
"Stand down, sir!" Dr. Morshead shouted sternly, while Blickson went
through a little panorama of righteous astonishment and disgust. All the
audience roared, and a solid farmer called out--"Don't come near me, you
infernal liar," as poor Crang sought shelter behind his topcoat. So much
for honesty, simplicity, and candour, when the nervous system has broken
down!
"After that, I should simply insult the intelligence of your Worships;"
continued the triumphant lawyer, "by proceeding to address you. Perhaps
I should ask you to commit that wretch for perjury; but I leave him to
his conscience, if he has one."
"The case is dismissed," Dr. Morshead announced, after speaking for a
moment to his colleague. "Unless there is any intention to charge these
men with resisting or assaulting officers, in the execution of their
warrant. It has been reported, though not formally, that some bystander
was considerably injured. If any charge is entered on either behalf, we
are ready to receive the depositions."
The constables, who had been knocked about, were beginning to consult
together, when Blickson slipped among them, after whispering to
Herniman, and a good deal of nodding of heads took place, while
pleasant ideas were interchanged, such as, "handsome private
compensation;" "twenty-five pounds to receive to-night, and such men are
always generous;" "a magnificent supper-party at the least, if they are
free. If not, all must come to nothing."
The worthy constabulary--now represented by a still worthier body, and
one of still finer feeling--perceived the full value of these arguments;
and luckily for the accused, Dr. Gronow was not present, being sadly
occupied at _Old Barn_.
"Although there is no charge, and no sign of any charge, your Worships,
and therefore I have no _locus standi_;" Mr. Blickson had returned to
his place, and adopted an airy and large-hearted style; "I would crave
the indulgence of the Bench, for one or two quite informal remarks; my
object being to remove every stigma from the characters of my respected
Clients. On the best authority I may state, that their one desire, and
intention, was to surrender, like a pair of lambs"--at this description
a grin went round, and the learned Magistrates countenanced it--"if they
could only realise the nature of the charge against them. But when they
demanded, like Englishmen, to know why their liberty should be suddenly
abridged, what happened? No one answered them! All those admirable men
were doubtless eager to maintain the best traditions of the law; but the
hurricane out-roared them. They laboured to convey their legal message;
but where is education, when the sky falls on its head? On the other
hand, one of these law-abiding men had been engaged gloriously, in
maintaining the athletic honour of his county. This does not appear to
have raised in him at all the pugnacity, that might have been expected.
He strolled into the market-place, partly to stretch his poor bruised
legs, and partly perhaps, to relieve his mind; which men of smaller
nature would have done, by tippling. Suddenly he is surrounded by a
crowd of very strong men in the dark. The Fair has long been over; the
lights are burning low; scarcely enough of fire in them to singe the
neck of an enterprising member of our brave Constabulary. In the thick
darkness, and hubbub of the storm, the hero who has redeemed the belt,
and therewith the ancient fame of our county, supposes--naturally
supposes, charitable as his large mind is, that he is beset for the sake
of the money, which he has not yet received, but intends to distribute
so freely, when he gets it. The time of this honourable Bench is too
valuable to the public to be wasted over any descriptions of a petty
skirmish, no two of which are at all alike. My large-bodied Client, the
mighty wrestler, might have been expected to put forth his strength. It
is certain that he did not do so. The man, who had smitten down the
pride of Cornwall, would strike not a blow against his own county. He
gave a playful push or two, a chuck under the chin, such as a pretty
milkmaid gets, when she declines a sweeter touch. I marvel at his
wonderful self-control. His knuckles were shattered by a blow from a
staff; like a roof in a hailstorm his great chest rang--for the men of
Perliton can hit hard--yet is there anything to show that he even
endeavoured to strike in return? And how did it end? In the very noblest
way. The Pastor of the village, a most saintly man, but less than an
infant in Harvey Tremlett's hands, appears at the gate, when there is no
other let or hindrance to the freedom of a Briton. Is he thrust aside
rudely? Is he kicked out of the way? Nay, he lays a hand upon the big
man's breast, the hand of a Minister of the Cross. He explains that the
law, by some misapprehension, is fain to apprehend this simple-minded
hero. The nature of the sad mistake is explained; and to use a common
metaphor, which excited some derision just now, but which I repeat, with
facts to back me,--gentle as a lamb, yonder lion surrenders!"
"The lamb is very fortunate in his shepherd;" said Dr. Morshead drily,
as the lawyer sat down, under general applause. "But there is nothing
before the Bench, Mr. Blickson. What is the object of all this
eloquence?"
"The object of my very simple narrative, your Worships, is to discharge
my plain duty to my clients. I would ask this Worshipful Bench, not only
to dismiss a very absurd application, but also to add their most weighty
opinions, that Harvey Tremlett, and James Fox--no, I beg pardon that was
the first mistake of this ever erroneous blacksmith--James Kettel, I
should say, have set a fine example of perfect submission to the law of
the land."
"Oh come, Mr. Blickson, that is out of the record. We pronounce no
opinion upon that point. We simply adjudge that the case be now
dismissed."