The final purposes for which man is ordained to move in this nether
sphere, will for ever remain disputable, while the doubts to which it
gives rise can be answered only by fellow-doubters: but that the basis
of his social comfort is confidence, is an axiom that waits no
revelation, requires no logic, and dispenses with mathematical accuracy
for proof: it is an axiom that comes home, straight forward and
intuitively, to our 'business and bosoms;'--there, with life, to lodge.
Juliet, therefore, in this rustic abode, surrounded by the clinging
affection of instinctive partiality, felt a sense of security, more
potent in its simplicity, than she could have owed to any engagement,
even of honour, even of law, even of duty. And, while to the fond mother
and her little ones, she was every moment newly endeared, she
experienced herself, in their favour, an increase of regard, that
excited in her an ardent desire to make this her permanent dwelling,
till she could procure tidings from Gabriella.
The night-scene, nevertheless, hung upon her with perplexity. The good
dame never reverted to it, evidently not imagining that it had been
observed; and persuaded that the entrance, at that moment, of her guest,
had been accidental. She constantly evaded to speak of her husband, or
of his affairs; while all her happiness, and almost her very existence,
seemed wrapt up in her children.
Unable to devise any better method of arriving at the subject, Juliet,
at length, determined upon relating the story of the hut. She watched
for an opportunity, when the little boy and girl, whom she would not
risk frightening, were asleep; and then, while occupied at her needle,
began detailing every circumstance of that affair.
The narrative of the place, and of the family, sufficed to draw, at
once, from the dame the exclamation, 'O, you been gone, then, to Nat
Mixon's? That be just he; and her, too. They be none o' the koindest,
that be sure, poor folk!'
But at the history of the calling up in the night; the rising, passing,
and precautions; the dame changed colour, and, with palpable
disturbance, enquired upon what day of the week this had happened: she
revived, however, upon being answered that it was Thursday, simply
saying, 'Mercy be proised! that be a day as can do me no harm.'
But, at the description of the sack, the lumpish sound, and the
subsequent appearance of a clot of blood, the poor woman turned pale;
and, blessing herself, said, 'The La be good unto me! Nat Mixon wull be
paid, at last, for all his bad ways! for, sure and sure, the devil do
owe un a grudge, or a would no ha' let a straunger in, to bear eye sight
to's goings on! 'T be a mercy 't be no worse, for an if 't had bin a
Friday--'
She checked herself, but looked much troubled. Juliet, affrighted by her
own conjectures, would have stopt; the dame, however, begged her to go
on: but when she mentioned the cupboard, and the door smeared with
blood, the poor woman, unable to contain her feelings, caught her guest
by the arm, and exclaimed, 'You wull no' inform against un, wull you?'
'Indeed, I should be most reluctant,' answered Juliet, 'to inform
against people who, be they what they may, admitted me to a night's
lodging, when I was in distress: nevertheless--what am I to think of
these appearances? Meetings in the dead of the night, so dark, private,
and clandestine?'
'But, who could 't be as did call up Nat?' interrupted Dame Fairfield;
'for my husband do go only o' the Friday.--' and then, giving a loud
scream, 'La be good unto me!' she continued, 'if an't be last month, 't
be my husband for sure! for a could no' go o' the Friday, being the
great fair!'
The expression of horrour now depicted upon the countenance of Juliet,
told the dame the mischief done by her unguarded speech; and, in a panic
uncontroulable, she flung her apron over her face, and sobbed out, ''T
be all blown, then, and we, we be all no better than ondone!'
Shocked, grieved, and appalled at this detection, and uncertain whither
it might lead, or what might be its extent, the thoughts of Juliet were
now all engrossed in considering how immediately to abscond from a
situation so alarming and perilous.
In a few minutes, Dame Fairfield, starting up, ran precipitately to the
bed, calling out, 'Come, my pretty ones, come, my dearys! come and down
o' your knees to the good gentlewoman, and praoy her to ha' mercy o'
poor daddy; for if so be a come to be honged and transported, you can
never show your poor innocent pretty faces agen! Come, little dearys,
come! down o' your marrow-bones; and praoy her to be so good as not to
be hard-hearted; for if a do be so onkoind as to inform against us, we
be all ondone!'
Juliet would have stopt this scene, but it was not possible; the
children, though comprehending nothing that was said, and crying at
being awaked, obeyed; and, falling at her feet, and supporting
themselves by her gown, said, 'Pay, dood ady, don't hurt daddy! pay
don't, dood ady!'
Touched, yet filled with augmented dismay by their prayers, Juliet,
tenderly embracing, carried them back to bed; and, with words of
comfort, and kind promises, soon hushed them again to sleep.
But the mother was not to be appeased; she had flung herself upon her
knees, and upon her knees she pertinaciously kept; sobbing as if her
heart were bursting, and lamenting that her husband never would listen
to her, or things would not have come to such a pass.
Juliet, full of compassion, yet shuddering, attempted to console her,
but would enter into no engagement. Pity, in such a case, however
sincerely felt, could not take the lead; humanity itself invoked
justice; and she determined to let no personal consideration whatsoever,
interfere any longer with her causing an immediate investigation to be
made into this fearful business.
The poor woman would not quit the floor, even when, in despondence, she
gave over her kneeling importunity. Juliet, from the instant that she
discovered how deeply the husband was involved, forbore all enquiry that
might make the wife an informer against him; and sate by her side,
trying to revive her, with offers of friendship and assistance.
But when, anxious to escape from this eventful Forest, and still
confiding in the simplicity and goodness of her hostess, she begged a
clear direction to the shortest way for getting to the high road;
saying, 'Alas! how little had I imagined that there had been any spot in
England, where travellers were thus dreadfully waylaid to their
destruction!' Dame Fairfield, suddenly ceasing her outcries, demanded
what she meant; saying, 'Why sure, and sure, there be no daunger to
nobody in our Forest! We do go up it and down it, noight and day,
without no manner of fear; and though I do come from afar off myself,
being but a straunger in these parts, till I was married; my
feather-in-law, who has lived in them, mon and boy, better than ninety
and odd years,--for, thof a be still as fresh as a rose, a be a'most a
hondred; he do tell me that a would carry his gold watch, if a had one,
in his open hand, from top to bottom of our nine walks, in the pitch of
the night; and a should aunswer to come to no harm; for a had never
heard of a traveller as had had so much as a hair of his head hurt in
the New Forest.'
'What is it you tell me, my good dame?' cried Juliet amazed: 'What are
these alarming scenes that I have witnessed? And why are your
apprehensions for your husband so direful?'
'The La be good unto me!' exclaimed the dame: 'why sure and sure you do
no' go to think the poor mon be a murderer?'
'I am disposed to think whatever you will bid me,' replied Juliet, 'for
I see in you such perfect truth and candour, that I cannot hesitate in
giving you my belief.'
'Why the La be good unto me, my good gentlewoman, there be but small
need to make bad worse! What the poor mon ha' done, may bring un to be
honged and transported; but if so be a had killed a mon, a might go to
old Nick besoides; and no one could say a deserved ony better.'
Juliet earnestly begged an explanation; and Dame Fairfield then
confessed, that her husband and Nat Mixon were deer-stealers.
After the tremendous sensations to which the mistake of Juliet, from her
ignorance of this species of traffic, had given rise, so unexpected a
solution of her perplexity, made this crime, contrasted with the
assassination of a fellow-creature, appear venial. But though relieved
from personal terrours, she would not hazard weakening the morality, in
lessening the fears of the good, but uncultivated Dame Fairfield, by
making her participate in the comparative view taken by herself, of the
greater with the less offence. She represented, therefore, warmly and
clearly, the turpitude of all failure of probity; dwelling most
especially upon the heinousness of a breach of trust.
The good woman readily said, that she knew, well enough, that the deer
were as much the King's Majesty's as the Forest; and that she had told
it over and over to her husband; and bid him prepare for his latter end,
if he would follow such courses: 'But the main bleame, it do all lie in
Nat Mixon; for a be as bad a mon as a body might wish to set eyes on.
And a does always say a likes ony thing better than work. It be he has
led my poor husband astray: for, thof a be but a bad mon, at best, to my
mishap! a was a good sort of a husband enough, poor mon, till a took to
these courses. But a knows I do no' like un for that; and that makes it,
that a does no' much like me. But I would no' ha' un come to be honged
or transported, if so be a was as onkoind agen! I would sooner go with
un to prison; thof it be but a dismal life to be shut up by dark walls,
and iron bars for to see out of! but I'd do it for sure and sure, not to
forsake un, poor mon! in his need; if so be I could get wherewithal to
keep my little dearys.'
Touched by such genuine and virtuous simplicity, Juliet now promised to
apply to some powerful gentleman, to take her husband from the
temptation of his present situation; and to settle them all at a
distance from the Forest.
The good woman, at this idea, started up in an extacy, and jumped about
the room, to give some vent to her joy; kissing her little ones till she
nearly suffocated them; and telling them, for sure and certain, that
they had gotten an angel come amongst them, to save them all from shame.
'For now,' she continued, 'if we do but get un away from Nat Mixon and
his wife, who be the worst mon in all the Forest, a wull think no more
of selling unlawful goods than unlawful geame.'
Juliet, though delighted at her happiness, was struck with the words
'unlawful goods;' which she involuntarily repeated. Dame Fairfield,
unable, at this moment, to practise any restraint upon her feelings,
plumply, then, acknowledged that Nat Mixon was a smuggler, as well as a
deer-stealer: and that three of them were gone, even now, about the
country, selling laces, and cambrics, and gloves, just brought to land.
This additional misdemeanour, considerably abated the hopes of
reformation which had been conceived by Juliet; and every word that,
inadvertently, escaped from the unguarded dame, brought conviction that
the man was thoroughly worthless. To give him, nevertheless, if
possible, the means to amend; and, at all events, to succour his good
wife, and lovely children, occupied as much of the thoughts of Juliet as
could be drawn, by humanity, from the danger of her own situation, and
her solicitude to escape from the Forest.
More fearful than ever of losing her way, and falling into new evil, she
again entreated Dame Fairfield to accompany her to the next town on the
morrow. The dame agreed to every thing; and then, light of heart, though
heavy with fatigue, went to rest; and was instantly visited by the best
physician to all our cares.
Juliet, also, courted repose; and not utterly in vain; though it came
not to the relief of her anxious spirits, agitated by all the
anticipating inquietude of foresight, with the same salutary facility
with which it instantly hushed the fears and the griefs of the
unreflecting, though feeling Dame Fairfield.
The moment that the babbling little voices of the children reached, the
next morning, the ear of Juliet, she descended from her small chamber,
to hasten the breakfast, and to quicken her departure. Dame Fairfield,
during the preparations and the repast, happy in new hope, and solaced
by unburthening her heart, conversed, without reserve, upon her affairs;
and the picture which her ingenuous avowals, and simple details, offered
to the mental view of Juliet, presented to her a new sight of human
life; but a sight from which she turned with equal sadness and
amazement.
The wretched man of the hut, of whom the poor dame's husband was the
servile accomplice, was the leader in all the illicit adventures of the
New Forest. Another cottager, also, was entirely under his direction;
though the difficulty and danger attendant upon their principal traffic,
great search being always made after a lost deer, caused it to be rarely
repeated; but smaller game; hares, pheasants, and partridges, were
easily inveigled, by an adroit dispersion of grain, to a place proper
for their seizure; and it required not much skill to frame stories for
satisfying purchasers, who were generally too eager for possession, to
be scrupulous in investigating the means by which their luxury was so
cheaply indulged.
The fixed day of rendezvous was every Friday month, that each might be
ready for his part of the enterprize.
Juliet, the dame imagined, had been admitted because it was Thursday,
and that her husband had not given notice that he should change his day,
on account of the fair; besides which, neither Mixon, she said, nor his
wife, ever refused money, be it ever so dangerous. He and his family
nearly subsisted upon the game which could not be got off in time; or
the refuse; or parts that were too suspicious for sale, of the deer. But
Dame Fairfield, though at the expence of the most terrible quarrels, and
even ill usage from her husband, never would consent to touch, nor
suffer her children to eat, what was not their own; 'for I do tell un,'
she continued, 'it might strangle us down our throats; for it be all his
King's Majesty's; and I do no' know why we should take hisn goods, when
a do never come to take none of ours! for we be never mislested, night
nor day. And a do deserve well of us all; for a be as good a gentlemon
as ever broke bread! which we did all see, when a was in these parts; as
well as his good lady, the Queen, who had a smile for the lowest of us,
God bless un! and all their pretty ones! for they were made up of good
nature and charity; and had no more pride than the new-born baby. And we
did all love 'em, when they were in these parts, so as the like never
was seen before.'
With regard to the smuggling, there were three men, she said, who came
over, alternately, from beyond seas, with counterband merchandize. They
landed where they could, and, if they were surprised, they knew how to
hide their goods, and pass for poor fishermen, blown over by foul winds:
for they had always fishing tackle ready to shew. They had agents all
round the coast, prepared to deal with them; but when they came to the
Forest, they always treated with Mixon.
Her friend near the turnpike, at Salisbury, commonly kept a good store
of articles; which she carried about, occasionally, to the ladies of the
town. 'And I ha' had sums and sums of goods,' she added, 'here,
oftentimes, myself; and then I do no dare to leave the house for one
yearthly moment; for we be all no better than slaves when the smugglers
be here, for fear of some informer. And I do tell my poor husband, we
should be mainly happier to work our hands to the bone, ony day of the
year, so we did but live by the King's Majesty's laws, than to make
money by being always in a quandary. And a might see the truth of what I
do say, if a would no' blind his poor eyes; or Nat Mixon, thof a do get
a power of money, do live the most pitiful of us all, for the fear of
being found out: a does no' dare get un a hat, nor a waistcoat like to
another mon. And his wife be the dirtiest beast in all the Forest. And
their house and garden be no better than a piggery. So that they've no
joy of life. They be but bad people at best, poor folk! And Nat be main
cross-grained; for, with all his care, a do look to be took up every
blessed day; and that don't much mend a mon's humour.'
Ah, thought Juliet, were the wilful, but unreflecting purchaser,
amenable to sharing the public punishment of the tempted and needy
instrument,--how soon would this traffic die away; and every country
live by its own means; or by its own fair commerce!
They had all, the dame said, been hard at work, to cover some goods
under ground, the very night of Juliet's arrival: and they had put what
was for immediate sale into hods, spread over with potatoes, to convey
to different places. When Juliet had tapped at the door, the dame had
concluded it to be her husband, returned for something that had been
forgotten; but the sight of a stranger, she said, though it were but a
woman, made her think that they were all undone; for the changed dress
of Juliet impeded any recollection of her, till she spoke.
In the communication to which this discourse gave rise, Juliet, with
surprize, and even with consternation, learnt, how pernicious were the
ravages of dishonest cupidity; how subversive alike of fair prosperity,
and genial happiness, even in the bosom of retired and beautiful
rusticity. For those who were employed in poaching, purloining wood, or
concealing illicit merchandize by night, were as incapable of the arts
and vigour of industry by day, as they were torpid to the charms and
animation of the surrounding beauties of nature. Their severest labour
received no pay, but from fearful, accidental, and perilous dexterity;
their best success was blighted by constant apprehension of detection.
Reproachful with each other, suspicious of their neighbours, and gloomy
in themselves, they were still greater strangers to civilized manners
than to social morality.
In the midst, however, of the dejection excited by such a view of human
frailty, Juliet, whose heart always panted to love, and prided in
esteeming her fellow-creatures, had the consolation to gather, that the
houses which contained these unworthy members of the community were few,
in comparison with those which were inhabited by persons of unsullied
probity; that several of the cottagers were even exemplary for assiduous
laboriousness and good conduct; and that many of the farmers and their
families were universally respected.