SUITABLE DEVOTION
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Now Kickums was not like Winnie, any more than a man is like a woman;
and so he had not followed my fortunes, except at his own distance. No
doubt but what he felt a certain interest in me; but his interest was
not devotion; and man might go his way and be hanged, rather than horse
would meet hardship. Therefore, seeing things to be bad, and his master
involved in trouble, what did this horse do but start for the ease and
comfort of Plover's Barrows, and the plentiful ration of oats abiding
in his own manger. For this I do not blame him. It is the manner of
mankind.
But I could not help being very uneasy at the thought of my mother's
discomfort and worry, when she should spy this good horse coming home,
without any master, or rider, and I almost hoped that he might be caught
(although he was worth at least twenty pounds) by some of the King's
troopers, rather than find his way home, and spread distress among
our people. Yet, knowing his nature, I doubted if any could catch, or
catching would keep him.
Jeremy Stickles assured me, as we took the road to Bridgwater, that the
only chance for my life (if I still refused to fly) was to obtain
an order forthwith, for my despatch to London, as a suspected person
indeed, but not found in open rebellion, and believed to be under the
patronage of the great Lord Jeffreys. “For,” said he, “in a few hours
time you would fall into the hands of Lord Feversham, who has won this
fight, without seeing it, and who has returned to bed again, to have his
breakfast more comfortably. Now he may not be quite so savage perhaps
as Colonel Kirke, nor find so much sport in gibbeting; but he is equally
pitiless, and his price no doubt would be higher.”
“I will pay no price whatever,” I answered, “neither will I fly. An hour
agone I would have fled for the sake of my mother, and the farm. But
now that I have been taken prisoner, and my name is known, if I fly,
the farm is forfeited; and my mother and sister must starve. Moreover, I
have done no harm; I have borne no weapons against the King, nor desired
the success of his enemies. I like not that the son of a bona-roba
should be King of England; neither do I count the Papists any worse than
we are. If they have aught to try me for, I will stand my trial.”
“Then to London thou must go, my son. There is no such thing as trial
here: we hang the good folk without it, which saves them much anxiety.
But quicken thy step, good John; I have influence with Lord Churchill,
and we must contrive to see him, ere the foreigner falls to work again.
Lord Churchill is a man of sense, and imprisons nothing but his money.”
We were lucky enough to find this nobleman, who has since become so
famous by his foreign victories. He received us with great civility;
and looked at me with much interest, being a tall and fine young
man himself, but not to compare with me in size, although far better
favoured. I liked his face well enough, but thought there was something
false about it. He put me a few keen questions, such as a man not
assured of honesty might have found hard to answer; and he stood in a
very upright attitude, making the most of his figure.
I saw nothing to be proud of, at the moment, in this interview; but
since the great Duke of Marlborough rose to the top of glory, I have
tried to remember more about him than my conscience quite backs up.
How should I know that this man would be foremost of our kingdom in
five-and-twenty years or so; and not knowing, why should I heed
him, except for my own pocket? Nevertheless, I have been so
cross-questioned--far worse than by young Lord Churchill--about His
Grace the Duke of Marlborough, and what he said to me, and what I said
then, and how His Grace replied to that, and whether he smiled like
another man, or screwed up his lips like a button (as our parish tailor
said of him), and whether I knew from the turn of his nose that no
Frenchman could stand before him: all these inquiries have worried me
so, ever since the Battle of Blenheim, that if tailors would only print
upon waistcoats, I would give double price for a vest bearing
this inscription, “No information can be given about the Duke of
Marlborough.”
Now this good Lord Churchill--for one might call him good, by comparison
with the very bad people around him--granted without any long hesitation
the order for my safe deliverance to the Court of King's Bench at
Westminster; and Stickles, who had to report in London, was empowered to
convey me, and made answerable for producing me. This arrangement would
have been entirely to my liking, although the time of year was bad for
leaving Plover's Barrows so; but no man may quite choose his times,
and on the while I would have been quite content to visit London, if my
mother could be warned that nothing was amiss with me, only a mild, and
as one might say, nominal captivity. And to prevent her anxiety, I did
my best to send a letter through good Sergeant Bloxham, of whom I heard
as quartered with Dumbarton's regiment at Chedzuy. But that regiment was
away in pursuit; and I was forced to entrust my letter to a man who said
that he knew him, and accepted a shilling to see to it.
For fear of any unpleasant change, we set forth at once for London; and
truly thankful may I be that God in His mercy spared me the sight of
the cruel and bloody work with which the whole country reeked and howled
during the next fortnight. I have heard things that set my hair on end,
and made me loathe good meat for days; but I make a point of setting
down only the things which I saw done; and in this particular case, not
many will quarrel with my decision. Enough, therefore, that we rode on
(for Stickles had found me a horse at last) as far as Wells, where we
slept that night; and being joined in the morning by several troopers
and orderlies, we made a slow but safe journey to London, by way of Bath
and Reading.
The sight of London warmed my heart with various emotions, such as a
cordial man must draw from the heart of all humanity. Here there are
quick ways and manners, and the rapid sense of knowledge, and the power
of understanding, ere a word be spoken. Whereas at Oare, you must say a
thing three times, very slowly, before it gets inside the skull of the
good man you are addressing. And yet we are far more clever there than
in any parish for fifteen miles.
But what moved me most, when I saw again the noble oil and tallow of the
London lights, and the dripping torches at almost every corner, and
the handsome signboards, was the thought that here my Lorna lived, and
walked, and took the air, and perhaps thought now and then of the old
days in the good farm-house. Although I would make no approach to her,
any more than she had done to me (upon which grief I have not dwelt, for
fear of seeming selfish), yet there must be some large chance, or the
little chance might be enlarged, of falling in with the maiden somehow,
and learning how her mind was set. If against me, all should be over. I
was not the man to sigh and cry for love, like a Romeo: none should even
guess my grief, except my sister Annie.
But if Lorna loved me still--as in my heart of hearts I hoped--then
would I for no one care, except her own delicious self. Rank and title,
wealth and grandeur, all should go to the winds, before they scared me
from my own true love.
Thinking thus, I went to bed in the centre of London town, and was
bitten so grievously by creatures whose name is “legion,” mad with the
delight of getting a wholesome farmer among them, that verily I was
ashamed to walk in the courtly parts of the town next day, having lumps
upon my face of the size of a pickling walnut. The landlord said that
this was nothing; and that he expected, in two days at the utmost,
a very fresh young Irishman, for whom they would all forsake me.
Nevertheless, I declined to wait, unless he could find me a hayrick to
sleep in; for the insects of grass only tickle. He assured me that no
hayrick could now be found in London; upon which I was forced to leave
him, and with mutual esteem we parted.
The next night I had better luck, being introduced to a decent widow, of
very high Scotch origin. That house was swept and garnished so, that
not a bit was left to eat, for either man or insect. The change of air
having made me hungry, I wanted something after supper; being quite
ready to pay for it, and showing my purse as a symptom. But the face of
Widow MacAlister, when I proposed to have some more food, was a thing to
be drawn (if it could be drawn further) by our new caricaturist.
Therefore I left her also; for liefer would I be eaten myself than have
nothing to eat; and so I came back to my old furrier; the which was
a thoroughly hearty man, and welcomed me to my room again, with two
shillings added to the rent, in the joy of his heart at seeing me. Being
under parole to Master Stickles, I only went out betwixt certain hours;
because I was accounted as liable to be called upon; for what purpose
I knew not, but hoped it might be a good one. I felt it a loss, and
a hindrance to me, that I was so bound to remain at home during the
session of the courts of law; for thereby the chance of ever beholding
Lorna was very greatly contracted, if not altogether annihilated. For
these were the very hours in which the people of fashion, and the high
world, were wont to appear to the rest of mankind, so as to encourage
them. And of course by this time, the Lady Lorna was high among people
of fashion, and was not likely to be seen out of fashionable hours. It
is true that there were some places of expensive entertainment, at which
the better sort of mankind might be seen and studied, in their hours of
relaxation, by those of the lower order, who could pay sufficiently. But
alas, my money was getting low; and the privilege of seeing my betters
was more and more denied to me, as my cash drew shorter. For a man must
have a good coat at least, and the pockets not wholly empty, before he
can look at those whom God has created for his ensample.
Hence, and from many other causes--part of which was my own pride--it
happened that I abode in London betwixt a month and five weeks' time,
ere ever I saw Lorna. It seemed unfit that I should go, and waylay
her, and spy on her, and say (or mean to say), “Lo, here is your poor
faithful farmer, a man who is unworthy of you, by means of his common
birth; and yet who dares to crawl across your path, that you may pity
him. For God's sake show a little pity, though you may not feel it.”
Such behaviour might be comely in a love-lorn boy, a page to some grand
princess; but I, John Ridd, would never stoop to the lowering of love
so.
Nevertheless I heard of Lorna, from my worthy furrier, almost every day,
and with a fine exaggeration. This honest man was one of those who in
virtue of their trade, and nicety of behaviour, are admitted into noble
life, to take measurements, and show patterns. And while so doing,
they contrive to acquire what is to the English mind at once the most
important and most interesting of all knowledge,--the science of being
able to talk about the titled people. So my furrier (whose name was
Ramsack), having to make robes for peers, and cloaks for their wives and
otherwise, knew the great folk, sham or real, as well as he knew a fox
or skunk from a wolverine skin.
And when, with some fencing and foils of inquiry, I hinted about Lady
Lorna Dugal, the old man's face became so pleasant that I knew her birth
must be wondrous high. At this my own countenance fell, I suppose,--for
the better she was born, the harder she would be to marry--and mistaking
my object, he took me up:--
“Perhaps you think, Master Ridd, that because her ladyship, Lady Lorna
Dugal, is of Scottish origin, therefore her birth is not as high as of
our English nobility. If you think so you are wrong, sir. She comes
not of the sandy Scotch race, with high cheek-bones, and raw
shoulder-blades, who set up pillars in their courtyards. But she comes
of the very best Scotch blood, descended from the Norsemen. Her mother
was of the very noblest race, the Lords of Lorne; higher even than the
great Argyle, who has lately made a sad mistake, and paid for it most
sadly. And her father was descended from the King Dugal, who fought
against Alexander the Great. No, no, Master Ridd; none of your
promiscuous blood, such as runs in the veins of half our modern
peerage.”
“Why should you trouble yourself about it, Master Ramsack?” I replied:
“let them all go their own ways: and let us all look up to them, whether
they come by hook or crook.”
“Not at all, not at all, my lad. That is not the way to regard it. We
look up at the well-born men, and side-ways at the base-born.”
“Then we are all base-born ourselves. I will look up to no man, except
for what himself has done.”
“Come, Master Ridd, you might be lashed from Newgate to Tyburn and back
again, once a week, for a twelvemonth, if some people heard you. Keep
your tongue more close, young man; or here you lodge no longer; albeit
I love your company, which smells to me of the hayfield. Ah, I have not
seen a hayfield for nine-and-twenty years, John Ridd. The cursed moths
keep me at home, every day of the summer.”
“Spread your furs on the haycocks,” I answered very boldly: “the indoor
moth cannot abide the presence of the outdoor ones.”
“Is it so?” he answered: “I never thought of that before. And yet I
have known such strange things happen in the way of fur, that I can
well believe it. If you only knew, John, the way in which they lay their
eggs, and how they work tail-foremost--”
“Tell me nothing of the kind,” I replied, with equal confidence: “they
cannot work tail-foremost; and they have no tails to work with.” For I
knew a little about grubs, and the ignorance concerning them, which
we have no right to put up with. However, not to go into that (for the
argument lasted a fortnight; and then was only come so far as to begin
again), Master Ramsack soon convinced me of the things I knew already;
the excellence of Lorna's birth, as well as her lofty place at Court,
and beauty, and wealth, and elegance. But all these only made me sigh,
and wish that I were born to them.
From Master Ramsack I discovered that the nobleman to whose charge Lady
Lorna had been committed, by the Court of Chancery, was Earl Brandir
of Lochawe, her poor mother's uncle. For the Countess of Dugal was
daughter, and only child, of the last Lord Lorne, whose sister had
married Sir Ensor Doone; while he himself had married the sister of
Earl Brandir. This nobleman had a country house near the village of
Kensington; and here his niece dwelled with him, when she was not in
attendance on Her Majesty the Queen, who had taken a liking to her.
Now since the King had begun to attend the celebration of mass, in the
chapel at Whitehall--and not at Westminster Abbey, as our gossips had
averred--he had given order that the doors should be thrown open, so
that all who could make interest to get into the antechamber, might see
this form of worship. Master Ramsack told me that Lorna was there almost
every Sunday; their Majesties being most anxious to have the presence
of all the nobility of the Catholic persuasion, so as to make a goodly
show. And the worthy furrier, having influence with the door-keepers,
kindly obtained admittance for me, one Sunday, into the antechamber.
Here I took care to be in waiting, before the Royal procession entered;
but being unknown, and of no high rank, I was not allowed to stand
forward among the better people, but ordered back into a corner very
dark and dismal; the verger remarking, with a grin, that I could see
over all other heads, and must not set my own so high. Being frightened
to find myself among so many people of great rank and gorgeous apparel,
I blushed at the notice drawn upon me by this uncourteous fellow; and
silently fell back into the corner by the hangings.
You may suppose that my heart beat high, when the King and Queen
appeared, and entered, followed by the Duke of Norfolk, bearing the
sword of state, and by several other noblemen, and people of repute.
Then the doors of the chapel were thrown wide open; and though I
could only see a little, being in the corner so, I thought that it was
beautiful. Bowers of rich silk were there, and plenty of metal shining,
and polished wood with lovely carving; flowers too of the noblest kind,
and candles made by somebody who had learned how to clarify tallow. This
last thing amazed me more than all, for our dips never will come clear,
melt the mutton-fat how you will. And methought that this hanging of
flowers about was a pretty thing; for if a man can worship God best of
all beneath a tree, as the natural instinct is, surely when by fault of
climate the tree would be too apt to drip, the very best make-believe is
to have enough and to spare of flowers; which to the dwellers in London
seem to have grown on the tree denied them.
Be that as it may, when the King and Queen crossed the threshold, a
mighty flourish of trumpets arose, and a waving of banners. The Knights
of the Garter (whoever they be) were to attend that day in state;
and some went in, and some stayed out, and it made me think of the
difference betwixt the ewes and the wethers. For the ewes will go
wherever you lead them; but the wethers will not, having strong
opinions, and meaning to abide by them. And one man I noticed was of the
wethers, to wit the Duke of Norfolk; who stopped outside with the sword
of state, like a beadle with a rapping-rod. This has taken more to tell
than the time it happened in. For after all the men were gone, some
to this side, some to that, according to their feelings, a number of
ladies, beautifully dressed, being of the Queen's retinue, began to
enter, and were stared at three times as much as the men had been. And
indeed they were worth looking at (which men never are to my ideas,
when they trick themselves with gewgaws), but none was so well worth
eye-service as my own beloved Lorna. She entered modestly and shyly,
with her eyes upon the ground, knowing the rudeness of the gallants, and
the large sum she was priced at. Her dress was of the purest white, very
sweet and simple, without a line of ornament, for she herself adorned
it. The way she walked and touched her skirt (rather than seemed to
hold it up) with a white hand beaming one red rose, this and her stately
supple neck, and the flowing of her hair would show, at a distance of a
hundred yards, that she could be none but Lorna Doone. Lorna Doone of
my early love; in the days when she blushed for her name before me
by reason of dishonesty; but now the Lady Lorna Dugal as far beyond
reproach as above my poor affection. All my heart, and all my mind,
gathered themselves upon her. Would she see me, or would she pass? Was
there instinct in our love?
By some strange chance she saw me. Or was it through our destiny? While
with eyes kept sedulously on the marble floor, to shun the weight of
admiration thrust too boldly on them, while with shy quick steps she
passed, some one (perhaps with purpose) trod on the skirt of her clear
white dress,--with the quickness taught her by many a scene of danger,
she looked up, and her eyes met mine.
As I gazed upon her, steadfastly, yearningly, yet with some reproach,
and more of pride than humility, she made me one of the courtly bows
which I do so much detest; yet even that was sweet and graceful, when my
Lorna did it. But the colour of her pure clear cheeks was nearly as
deep as that of my own, when she went on for the religious work. And the
shining of her eyes was owing to an unpaid debt of tears.
Upon the whole I was satisfied. Lorna had seen me, and had not
(according to the phrase of the high world then) even tried to “cut” me.
Whether this low phrase is born of their own stupid meanness, or whether
it comes of necessity exercised on a man without money, I know not, and
I care not. But one thing I know right well; any man who “cuts” a man
(except for vice or meanness) should be quartered without quarter.
All these proud thoughts rose within me as the lovely form of Lorna went
inside, and was no more seen. And then I felt how coarse I was; how apt
to think strong thoughts, and so on; without brains to bear me out: even
as a hen's egg, laid without enough of lime, and looking only a poor
jelly.
Nevertheless, I waited on; as my usual manner is. For to be beaten,
while running away, is ten times worse than to face it out, and take
it, and have done with it. So at least I have always found, because of
reproach of conscience: and all the things those clever people carried
on inside, at large, made me long for our Parson Bowden that he might
know how to act.
While I stored up, in my memory, enough to keep our parson going through
six pipes on a Saturday night--to have it as right as could be next
day--a lean man with a yellow beard, too thin for a good Catholic (which
religion always fattens), came up to me, working sideways, in the manner
of a female crab.
“This is not to my liking,” I said: “if aught thou hast, speak plainly;
while they make that horrible noise inside.”
Nothing had this man to say; but with many sighs, because I was not of
the proper faith, he took my reprobate hand to save me: and with several
religious tears, looked up at me, and winked with one eye. Although the
skin of my palms was thick, I felt a little suggestion there, as of a
gentle leaf in spring, fearing to seem too forward. I paid the man, and
he went happy; for the standard of heretical silver is purer than that
of the Catholics.
Then I lifted up my little billet; and in that dark corner read it, with
a strong rainbow of colours coming from the angled light. And in mine
eyes there was enough to make rainbow of strongest sun, as my anger
clouded off.
Not that it began so well; but that in my heart I knew (ere three lines
were through me) that I was with all heart loved--and beyond that, who
may need? The darling of my life went on, as if I were of her own rank,
or even better than she was; and she dotted her “i”s, and crossed
her “tVs, as if I were at least a schoolmaster. All of it was done in
pencil; but as plain as plain could be. In my coffin it shall lie, with
my ring and something else. Therefore will I not expose it to every man
who buys this book, and haply thinks that he has bought me to the bottom
of my heart. Enough for men of gentle birth (who never are inquisitive)
that my love told me, in her letter, just to come and see her.
I ran away, and could not stop. To behold even her, at the moment, would
have dashed my fancy's joy. Yet my brain was so amiss, that I must do
something. Therefore to the river Thames, with all speed, I hurried;
and keeping all my best clothes on (indeed for sake of Lorna), into the
quiet stream I leaped, and swam as far as London Bridge, and ate nobler
dinner afterwards.