SOMETHING ABOUT HIM.
It was of course not Parson Rambone but the Parson Chowne who aroused my
desire of knowledge so strongly. And even here I was met at first by
failure and disappointment. The men would only shake their hands and
say "Ah, he is a queer one!" or, "Well, well, we can't expect all folk
to be alike, you know;" or even some of the ruder spirits, "You had
better go yourself and ask him"--a most absurd suggestion, for never yet
had I seen a man less fit to encourage impertinence. Far more ready
would I have been to displease even his great comrade, the Reverend John
Rambone; and no one who saw them together could doubt which of the two
was the master. My true course was clearly to bide my time, and, as
chairman, to enhance the goodwill and geniality of the evening. And this
I was ready enough to do--ay, and in the vein for it--bearing in mind
the wisdom of enjoying to the utmost such favourable circumstances, to
be on the free boot, and well received in a place entirely new to me,
where I found myself so much ahead of everybody in matter of mind, and
some of them glad to acknowledge it; also where no customer could be
waiting to reproach me, nor even a justice of the peace well versed in
my countenance; moreover, blessed as I was with a sense of pity for
these natives, and a largeness of goodwill to them, such a chance had
never crossed me since the day my wife did.
Ikey and I had a good laugh also at that surly Bethel Jose, who had
shown himself so much above the fair in mind, yet was there in body.
None but Bang, the boy, had been left for captain and crew of the Rose
of Devon, and before it was dark we had found Bang shooting, at four
shots a-penny, for cocoa-nut slices, with ginger-beer poured over them.
Now fortune stood my friend that night, for before we began to find
ourselves in a condition at all uproarious, I managed to loosen the
tongues of these natives by means of some excellent stories. Recalling
the fame of my grandfather (that long David Llewellyn, who made on his
harp three unconquered ballads, and won the first prize at all the
Eisteddfods held during his life for Englynion), I could not accept it
as my business to play second fiddle. Therefore, being in a happy mood,
I was enabled to recount such stories as made these Devonshire folk open
their mouths like a man at a great rock-oyster, while their experience
was in contention with faith and perhaps good manners. And as their
nature is obstinate and most unwilling to be outdone, they found
themselves driven down at last to tell the most wonderful things they
knew, or else to be almost nobodies. And putting aside what their
grandfathers might have seen or heard or even done--which is a mistake
to dwell upon--all their stories worth curve of the ear were of Parson
Chowne, and no other.
For this man was a man, as we say. No other man must have a will that
stood across the path of his. If he heard of any one unwilling to give
way to him, he would not go to bed until he had taken that arrogance out
of him. Many people, and even some of ten times his own fortune, had
done their best, one after the other, not to be beaten by him. All of
them found that they could not do it, and that their only chance of
comfort was to knock under to Parson Chowne. And even after that had
been done, he was not always satisfied, but let them know from time to
time their folly in offending him. And most of all, he made a point (as
was natural perhaps) of keeping the Lord Bishop of the country under
him. Some of these had done their best (before they understood him) to
make his habits hold themselves within some stretch of discipline; or,
if that could not be hoped, at any rate to keep silent. When he heard of
these ideas he was not a little pleased, because he descried a rare
chance of sport, and he followed it up with their lordships. The law he
knew to its lowest tittle, and while he broke it every day himself, woe
to any man who dared to break it against him. And gradually these
bishops came (one after the other growing a little alive to what the
parsons were) not so much to let him alone as to desire his
acquaintance--out of school, if so I may put it, in my ignorance of the
bench of bishops. For well as I know a fish called "the Pope," and also
a pear said to be "Bishop's thumb," not to mention a grass called
"Timothy," it has not been my luck thus far to rise above the bench of
magistrates.
"Let be" is the wisest thing one can say; and so everybody said of him,
so soon as ever it was acknowledged that he could never be put down. And
thus he might have done well enough if he would have been content with
this. Only it never was his nature to be content with anything, which is
the only true way to get on; if any one cares for that sort of thing,
who knows mankind's great randomness. Because the one who shoves and
swears without being too particular, has the best chance to hoist
himself upon the backs of the humble. By dint of this, and to keep him
quiet, Parson Chowne himself, they said, might have been bishop if so he
had chosen. For this he had some fine qualifications, for his very
choicest pleasure was found in tormenting his fellow-parsons: and a man
of so bold a mind he was, that he believed in nothing except himself.
Even his own servants never knew how to come nigh him. One at the
stables would touch his hat, and he would kick him for reply; then
another would come without ceremony, and he knocked him down to learn
it. Also in the house, the maidens had the same account to give. However
much they might think of themselves, and adorn themselves to that
estimate, he never was known to do so much as to chuck any one of them
under the chin, as they had been at all other places much in the habit
of feeling; neither did he make a joke to excuse himself for omitting
it. As to that, they would scorn themselves ever to think of permitting
it, being young women of high respect, and quite aware how to conduct
themselves. But they might have liked to stop him, and they got no
chance of doing it.
All this small-talk almost vexed me more than the content it gave. Every
now and then I could see the man in these little corner views, but they
did not show me round him so as to get his girth and substance. "Think
of the devil," is an old saying; and while I thought of him, in he
walked.
At the very first glimpse of him, all those people who had been talking
so freely about him shrank away, and said, "Servant, sir!" and looked so
foolish more than usual, that he read them with one eye. He had his
riding-clothes on now, and it made him look still sharper.
"Talking of me, good people, eh? I hope the subject pleases you. Open
your ranks, if you please, and show me whether my groom is behind you."
He cracked a great hunting-whip as he spoke, and it seemed a poor
prospect for the groom, wherever he might be loitering.
"Plaize your honour, your honour's groom have not been here all day
a'most; and if her coom'th, us 'ont keep un."
"In that resolution you are wise. What! you here, Welshman? I marked you
to-day. You will come to me by noon to-morrow. Here is for your
charges."
He threw on the table two crown-pieces, and was gone before I knew what
answer I was bound to make to him. The men, recovering from his
presence, ran to the window to watch him as far as the flaring lights of
the fair, now spluttering low, displayed him. Without being able to see
so much as I strongly desired to see of him, I could not help admiring
now his look, and his manner, and strong steady gait, and the general
style of his outward man. His free way of going along made clear the
excellence of his clothing; and he swung his right elbow, as I was told,
from his constant desire to lash a horse. He was the devil himself to
ride, so everybody said of him; and Parson Chowne's horse was now become
a by-word for any one thoroughly thrashed. And yet no other man must
ever dare to touch his horses. If any one did, no deadlier outrage could
be put upon him.
Hearing these things from fourteen customers able to express their
thoughts, I was sorry when the corner turned upon Parson Chowne, so
walking in the light of long deal tables, set with finely-guttering
candles, and with goods not quite sold out. And he left upon my memory a
vision of a great commander, having a hat of controlling movements, and
a riding-coat so shaped that a horse appeared to be under it; and lower
down, buff leathern breeches, and boots well over the hinge of his legs,
and silver heels, and silver spurs, and nothing to obscure him. No
topcoat or outer style of means to fend the weather, because he could
keep it in order always.
"I wish I was like him, then," said I; "and what does he mean by
insulting me? I know a hundred bigger fellows. Am I at his beck and
call?"
"I warr'n thou wilt be, zoon enough," answered, with a heavy grin, a
lout of a fellow, who had shown no more sense than to leave the room at
the very crash and crown of one of my best stories; "hast heered what
Passon have now a dooed?" He was come in primed with some rubbishing
tale, and wanted the room to make much of him. Nevertheless, the men of
perception had not done with me yet.
"Wuttever be un? wuttever be un? Spak up, Oasler Jan!" cried some of the
altogether younger men, who never know good work from bad, but seek some
new astonishment. Goodness knows how hard it was, and how wholly
undeserved, for me to withdraw and let them talk, only because their
news was newer, and about a favourite man to talk of. However, I pressed
down my feelings, not being certain about my bill, if I offended any
one. For mercy's sake I spare their brogue, and tell their story
decently. And Ostler John's tale was as follows, so far as I could make
it out, by means of good luck, and by watching his face.
A certain justice of the peace, whose name was Captain Vellacott, a
gentleman of spirit, who lived in one of the parishes belonging to this
Parson Chowne (who happened to have two churches), this gentleman had
contrived to give, as almost every one managed to do, deadly offence to
Parson Chowne. It was expected that the Parson would be content to have
him down and horsewhip him (as his manner was), and burn his house down
afterwards. But the people who thought this were too hasty, and
understood not his reverence. Whether from dislike of sitting upon the
bench with him afterwards, or whether because Mrs Vellacott also had
dared to shake hands with her gauntlet on, or because the baby cried
when offered up to kiss the Parson--at any rate, Captain Vellacott must
have more than a simple chastisement. The Captain being a quick sharp
man, who said a hot word and forgot it, laughed at every one who told
him to see to himself; and so on. "The Parson," said he, "is a man of
his cloth; so am I of mine; and I will not insult him by expecting
insult." So it came to pass that he made the mistake of measuring
another man by his own measure. After a few months this gentleman felt
that the Parson had quite forgiven him, no evil having befallen him yet,
except that his rick-yard had twice been fired, and his wife insulted by
the naked people whom Chowne maintained upon Nympton Moor. And so, when
they met in the fair this day, the Captain bowed to the Parson, and
meant to go on and see to his business. But the other would not have it
so. He offered his hand most cordially, and asked how Mrs Vellacott was,
and all the five children, according to ages, using the Christian name
of each. Captain Vellacott was so pleased by the kindness of his memory,
and the nobility shown in dropping whatever had been between them, that
what did he do but invite Master Chowne to dine with him up at the
Fortescue Arms Hotel, and see a young horse he had bought in the fair,
giving his own for it and five guineas; for he was not a rich man at
all, and was come to make a moderate bargain.
Everything might have gone on well, and perhaps the Parson really meant
to forgive him at the moment for having dared, in the bygone matter, to
have a will of his own almost. But, as bad luck would have it, this very
horse that the Captain had bought turned out to be one which the Parson
had eye upon ever since last year's hunting season. However, not to
paint the devil too black, it was confessed that he offered Vellacott
five pounds for his bargain. This ought to have satisfied any man who
knew what Parson Chowne was, and that fifty times five pounds would be
saved by keeping out of his black books. Nevertheless the Captain stuck
to his bargain and ruined himself.
The two gentlemen parted very good friends, shaking hands warmly, and
having their joke, and hoping to dine again soon together; for Parson
Chowne could beat all the world at after-dinner stories; and the Captain
was the best man to laugh anywhere round the neighbourhood. And so he
started rather early, on purpose to show his new horse to his wife.
But the ostler, who was a very old codger, and had seen a little of
Parson's ways, shook his head after the Captain's shilling, and spat
upon it to prevent bad luck, and laid it on the shelf where he kept his
blacking. He was too clever to say one word; but every one remembered
how he had behaved, and the sigh he gave--when he reminded them.
It may have been half an hour afterwards, or it may have been an hour
and a half (so much these people differed), when Captain Vellacott on a
hurdle came to Surgeon Cutcliffe's door, and the horse was led to
Farrier Gould, who sent him to the mayor for opinions, and his worship
sent him on to Pilch of the knacker's yard. Poor Justice Vellacott's
collar bone was snapped in two places, and his left thigh broken, also
three of his ribs stoven in, and a good deal of breakage abroad in his
head. However, they hoped that he might come round; and being a
Devonshire man, he did, as I found out afterwards.
This tale, which Ostler John delivered at ten times the length of the
above, caused a very great stir and excitement and comparison of
opinions. And when these wiseacres had almost exhausted their powers of
wonder, I desired to know, in the name of goodness, why the poor Parson
must be saddled with every man who fell off his horse. In the first
place, he must have been far away from the scene of the misfortune,
inasmuch as no more than an hour ago he was seeking his groom amongst
us. And, again, what could be more likely than that Captain Vellacott
might have taken, with a view to good luck for his purchase, a bottle or
two of wine beyond what otherwise would have contented him? And even if
not--why, a horse might fall, much more a man (who has only two legs),
without anybody having designed it.
This reasoning of mine made no impression, because everybody's opinion
was set. "Passon Chowne had adooed it;" they scratched their heads and
went into side questions, but on the main point all agreed--"'twor
ayther the Passon or the devil himzell."