I VINDICATE THE NATIONAL CHARACTER
The farmer held out his hand with a grin, but quite in the approved
manner, and I seized the occasion of shaking it briefly to run over his
points. He was extremely broad: a hard-looking, powerful fellow,
apparently capable of taking a deal of punishment. But his years were
against him. He was considerably on the wrong side of fifty to judge
by his looks, and in height I had the advantage of a full four inches.
To judge by the attitude in which he set himself, I doubted whether,
whatever his experience of these encounters, he had much science to
recommend him. For myself I must confess I was hugely delighted with
the whole thing, and entered into it with the spirit of a boy. A match
or a contest or a wager of any kind has ever been peculiarly acceptable
to me. Indeed was it not this fondness, amounting almost to a passion,
that had so largely contributed to my present position? I had always,
I think, been pretty ready with my hands; had had some little practice
in night affrays with footpads and persons of that kidney; had
witnessed more than one set-to in the ring; whilst as for the matter of
science, I had in my younger days taken so keen an interest in this
invaluable art, as to put myself under the tutelage of acknowledged
masters of it. Therefore I was not without a certain confidence in
myself, although there was a grim determination about the mien and air
of the farmer that was not to be despised. He was unmistakably game
and full of the true fighting instinct, but his years were no friends
of his intrepidity.
Disregarding all subtleties and finesse, as well became his blunt,
rustical, honest character, we had no sooner greeted one another and
got our hands up, than the farmer came at me both hands pell-mell, with
his head down, like a bull at a gate. His onset was so fierce and
sudden, that I was by no means prepared to receive it, and he had me at
a decided disadvantage. He had rained in a full dozen of short-armed
blows, right and left, left and right at my face, at my ribs, at my
chest, ere I could even so much as find my fighting legs, or bring into
action any little skill that I might possess. My long-unpractised ward
could not prevail at all against such an onslaught. I received
half-parried blows on the mouth, which cut my lip and broke a tooth, on
the right eye which partially closed it up, and a full one in the ribs.
This last was the worst of all, as for a time it deprived me somewhat
of my wind and made me sob to catch my breath. And while I was meeting
with these misfortunes, the bystanding yokels, whose sympathies were
all on one side and that not mine, as you may suppose, were dancing
with delight, and shrieking their hoarse encouragement.
"Go it, varmer. Give un pepper, give un snuff!"
However, by this I had pulled myself together somewhat, and had found a
means of coping with this hand-over-hand style of fighting. There was
plenty of room to dodge in. This I began to make use of. Indeed it
was the only chance I had of protecting myself, for I was quite
incapable of standing up to the farmer's terrible blows. But as soon
as I could find myself sufficiently to begin dancing out of his reach,
the game turned at once in my favour. There was devil a bit of guile
or finesse in the heart of my honest adversary. The moment I gave
ground, he pursued me, hitting the air. Happily for me he was much too
slow and heavy in this kind of warfare ever to get his knuckles near
the place he desired.
In a little while his great jowl grew inflamed, the sweat poured off
his forehead into his eyes, his breath came short and thick, and his
hitting grew gradually weaker and less sustained. It was not yet that
I went in, however. I continued to prance round and round him, there
being plenty of room in which to do so; and at every futile blow he
grew more unsteady. But all this while I had a keen eye for my
opportunity. It was coming slowly but surely, for I was well enough
versed in the matter to know better than to go so much as an inch to
meet it. I waited then with a wary patience, sometimes letting him get
nearer than I need have done to encourage him in his course. Not that
this was necessary, for the old fellow was as game as any pet of the
"fancy" that ever buffed in the ring. But not again did I allow him to
get his "ten commandments" home on me; I had had enough of that. And
at last having allowed him to spend himself entirely, I quickly
selected the moment of my advantage, even deliberated on it to make
quite sure, and then stiffened every muscle into trim. I made a
pretence of closing up with him. This had the effect of luring him
into another futile rush. As he came hitting blindly, I feinted, and
as he went past, my right went out at the most correct fraction of an
instant, and down went the gallant farmer into the muck of his own
barton. The Fighting Tinker himself could not have done it more
neatly, I'll vow. But the old fellow was of a rare British mettle. He
was no sooner down than he was up again. Apparently he was ashamed to
be seen in such a humiliating posture.
I, for my part, had barely time to wipe away the blood that was oozing
from my broken lip, ere the farmer was up and at me again. But I was
not to be caught napping a second time. By this I was perfectly calm
and sure of myself, for I felt that I enjoyed a command of the methods
that were likely to bring me success. Instead of dodging from my
opponent on this occasion I allowed him to come right up and literally
hurl himself on his own undoing. For again at the exact instant I got
a beautiful lead on to his point, and stunned as much by the unexpected
check to his own impetus as by the blow itself, he fell flat on his
back. This time he lay half stunned. He made several attempts to rise
immediately, but was quite unable to do so.
Seeing him to be somewhat the worse, his yokels ran to him, whilst I
went too, and rendered him all the assistance that lay in my power. He
lay puffing and panting in the mire of the yard, half-dazed by his
disaster, otherwise apparently not a penny the worse. He was still
full of fighting courage; but unfortunately he lay as weak as a child
from the shock of the blow and the fall. Strive as he might he was
quite unable to rise. His yokels of course were at a loss to know what
to do in the circumstances, but I did what I could by propping his head
on my knee, and dispatching one of the men to the house for some
brandy. And at this moment who should arrive but little Cynthia with a
very white face indeed, and in such a quiver of distress as plainly
said that she had witnessed the whole affair from the seclusion of the
cowhouse.
"Oh," says she, taking charge of the farmer at once, and sponging his
face and his breast with the cold water, "you are neither of you
killed, I hope. Oh, you pair of ruffian wretches! Have you much pain,
poor farmer? Lean your head on Jack, and take things gently a little.
And do you, What's-your-name? bring his coat and put over the poor
man's shoulders."
While these delicate attentions were going forward, my sturdy adversary
was recovering remarkably.
"I'm all right, my wench," says he. "But I'm dom'd if I can stand up
again, much as I should like. Your mate's done me fair for once, and I
can tell you he's the only man hereabouts that ivver gave Joe Headish
his bellyful. Dom'd if I don't go at 'im again. Here, let be; let me
get up."
By a sudden effort he tried to rise, but immediately fell back again in
a still more dilapidated state. But the arrival of the brandy did a
good deal to restore him, and a little afterwards he was on his legs.
Feeling himself in no condition to continue, reluctant as he was to
admit the fact, he held out his hand, and we both subscribed to the
articles of peace.
By the time I had donned my clothes in the seclusion of the hovel, and
had emerged forth again in all the respectability of my great-coat,
coat, waistcoat, and shirt, the farmer was thoroughly recovered and
talking to Cynthia in the most friendly spirit. At my appearance, says
he:
"I don't know who you are, young man; I don't know you from Adam, that
I don't, but I respect you. You're of the right stuff, my lad, and
pretty handy with your mauleys. I ax pardon for calling you a
foreigner. Whatever part you come from, and whatever your occipation
may be, dom'd if you're not as true-blood an Englishman as I am mysen.
And I don't care who hears me say it."
"I thank you, sir," says I gravely. "But I am sure the apology should
come from me. I on my side ask your pardon for using your cowhouse and
using your milk in the small hours of the morning."
"Don't name it," says the farmer. "You're quite welcome to the best
I've got. And dom me if it comes to that you shall have it too. You
come along with me, and bring the little wench as well. Purty a little
wench as ivver I see, she is so!"
I suppose it was the rudest and coarsest invitation either of us had
ever had in our lives, but it was certainly the heartiest; and this
I'll vow, there never was an invitation in this world more promptly and
thankfully accepted. Indeed at the first hint of it our hearts almost
leapt with joy, and then a tear sparkled in Cynthia's eyes as she
curtsied to the farmer. It was really fine to observe the behaviour of
the honest fellow. There was not a spark of animosity in him. He had
arbitrated on the merits of the case in his own fashion, and he now
acquiesced in the result with the same game spirit with which he had
arrived at it. And I am perfectly certain for my part that there was
more wisdom in the man's instincts of justice than may at the first
sight appear. If all the world would recognize his as the accepted
manner of adjudicating on its private and individual grievances, it
would be found the best method, the one least likely to breed bad
blood, and the one most calculated to engender a mutual respect in the
parties concerned. And now having delivered this superior sentiment as
a sort of grace before meat, let us follow our good farmer to his
dwelling with the cheerful expedition that we did on the occasion
itself.
The excellent man, although evidently puzzled as to who we might
be--our mode of life was certainly such as to justify his gravest
suspicions--was at great pains to conceal any doubts of our character
and occupation that he might entertain. But the moment we entered the
ample food-smelling kitchen of the farm, the ceiling hung if you please
with hams, a rare dish of bacon frizzling before the fire, and a
breakfast table that to our charmed eyes was almost overborne with good
homely and appetizing things, we had to run the gauntlet of the
farmer's wife. She was a little, keen-featured, hard-faced woman,
with, as we were soon to discover, the devil of a sharp tongue. She
ruffled her feathers as soon as she saw us.
"Lork-a-mercy!" says she, "I didn't know, Joseph, as 'ow you was
a-bringing of company to breakfast."
"I didn't know mysen," says Joseph complacently. Then followed a
moment of embarrassment. It was plainly the good man's duty to present
us to his wife. She very properly expected it of him. But as in his
own phrase he did not know us from Adam himself, he was at a loss to
know in what terms to represent us. Nor did the pause that ensued help
matters at all. The farmer's wife had from the first, as her manner
showed, been by no means disposed to view us favourably. There was
evidently something in our appearance that had caused her to take a
strong prejudice against us. One cannot be surprised that this was the
case, however, seeing that we were both unwashed, and as unkempt as we
possibly could be, whilst to add a final touch to the picture we
presented, I was embellished with a puffy and discoloured eye, and a
bloodied lip. These misfortunes, when her good man had made
appearances ten times more unfortunate by his hesitation, his wife was
only too ready to take as a confirmation of her suspicions. We were a
pair of worthless persons, and Joseph was unable to account for the
sudden impulse that had led him to bring us into that respectable
abode. For if we were persons of some credit, why did not Joseph say
so at once? His wife sniffed, and after gazing at us in a most
disconcerting manner, was moved to say:
"Joseph, I'm surprised at you. I'll have no wicked vagabond
play-actors here. I've always done my best to keep this house
respectable, and, please God, it shall always be so. How dare you
bring such people here? I'll be bound you found them sleeping in your
barn, and then, soft-hearted fool that you are, you bring them in to
breakfast. Oh, I know; you can't deceive me. It is not enough then
that they should trespass on your premises, lie on your hay, and rob
your hen-roosts, but you must encourage 'em in it into the bargain, and
bring them into this clean, wholesome kitchen that you know I've always
took such a pride in."
The farmer turned as red as a cabbage. In his heart he was bound to
admit that every word his wife uttered was true in substance. But he
was a very honest fellow; and though he might feel that he was greatly
to blame for taking a couple of vagrants so much under his wing, he was
not the man to go back on his hospitality. He stood by us nobly.
"Wife," says he, "what words be these? If I choose to ask a lady and
gentleman to come and sit at table with me, shall my own wife insult
them lo their faces?"
"Lady and gentleman!" says the redoubtable wife. "A pretty sort of
lady and gentleman, ain't they? A brazen madam with a hat on. Oh, and
curls too! Lord, look at her! If she's not a play-actress I've never
seen one. And what a bully of a rogue she has got with her, too. Hath
he not the very visnomy of a footpad? He's lately escaped from Newgate
Gaol, I'll take my oath on't."
There could be no doubt that this good lady was blest with a tongue of
the sharpest kind. Her husband was terribly put out by it. Poor
little Cynthia was, too. For all her high breeding and her modish
London insolence, which in circumstances favourable to it was wont to
sit so charmingly upon her, she could hardly restrain her tears. I
suppose it is that a woman can never bear to be ridiculed, or abused,
or put in a false position. The poor child trembled and clung to my
arm, while her face grew pink and white by turns.
"Oh, Jack," she whispered, "do say something that will put us right.
Tell them who we are. I cannot bear to be spoken to like this."
"You surely would not have me spoil the comedy just now?" says I. "I
am enjoying it vastly."
In sooth I was. I dare say it is that I am always keenly alive to
these odd passages in life, and that I am more prone to seize the
whimsicality of a matter than is a person of a better gravity. I vow
it was finer than a play to me to witness a highly rustical farmer and
his spouse violently quarrelling because Mr. Chawbacon had degraded his
rural abode by bringing a duke's daughter into it. And here was the
storm growing shriller, the farmer redder and angrier, and poor little
Cynthia ready to faint with the humiliation of it all.
The state of the case was not improved when the farmer turned his back
on his wife in the middle of her invective. And doubtless to define
his opinion of her behaviour and to show that he was determined to
stand by us, come what might, he very civilly asked us whether we would
care to have some hot water from the kettle and go upstairs and perform
our ablutions. You may guess with what alacrity we accepted this
invitation; indeed nothing could have better accorded with our needs
and our wishes. But no sooner had the farmer spoken to this tenor than
Mistress Headish broke out shriller than before:
"What can you be thinking of, Joseph Headish?" says she. "Do you think
I would trust two such rapscallion persons out of my sight in our clean
upper chambers, and so many things to tempt their honesty in them, too?
No; if they want to wash themselves, they must do it at the pump in the
yard, as their betters have had to do often enough. And why people
like that, leading the vagrant, masterless life they do, should require
to wash themselves at all, I don't know. And as you have promised them
a bite to eat, they shall have it, after they have washed themselves.
But not in my nice clean kitchen. I'll send 'em out half a loaf of
bread and a piece of cold bacon, and a mug of my good October ale, and
they can take it sitting on the pump, and think themselves lucky to get
it too."
"Peace, woman," says the farmer, in a voice of such dudgeon as did him
the highest credit. "Are you the master in this house, or am I?"
To emphasize the inquiry he brought his hand down with such a force
upon the breakfast-table as set the dishes rattling; whilst he
indicated the answer by peremptorily bidding us follow him upstairs.
This we were in something of a hurry to do, and we soon found ourselves
in a spacious bed-chamber, which smelt of cleanliness to such an extent
that, knowing how very ill our own persons must consort with it, we
began to feel that the farmer's wife was justified of her grievances.
That worthy shrew, having thoroughly aroused her honest husband, did
not think fit to interpose any active resistance to his commands, but
contented herself by staying below, and in delivering a shrill
monologue from the foot of the stairs.