"Thou hast appointed justices of peace to call poor men before them
for matters they were not able to answer."--_Shakespeare_.
When the Parable of the Wheat and the Tares was spoken, the Blessed and
only Wise foresaw the extreme difficulty of rooting out the tares
without injuring the wheat, when the work is done by the ignorant or
hasty hands of the servants.
So it was at Uphill. Captain Carbonel was made a county magistrate, and
thus had more power in his hands, and his most earnest wish and prayer
was to use it for the good of the parish. But things were very
difficult. At the vestry, the farmers agreed with him that Barton and
Morris ought not to have additional parish relief, great strong men as
they were, who had both refused extra hours of labour offered by
farmers, of a kind they did not like, and now demanded help on the score
of their large families. In fact, it had become the custom to demand
relief for every fresh child that was born, and the men were often idle
in consequence. There were men with many children who had never come on
the parish, because they were trustworthy and sober, and their wives
were thrifty. Each magistrate could point to several of these, and each
knew how the small and struggling ratepayers were oppressed. Nor could
it be fair that these men should be maintained in idleness or dawdling
at the expense of the hard-working small shopkeepers.
Every gentleman on the bench who had weakly yielded before, and had
given an order to whoever tramped over to ask for it, was very glad to
have some one who would speak out, and take the burthen of unpopularity.
So the order was not given, and Barton and Morris walked home
disappointed, but not till they had each taken a pint or two of beer at
the "Blue Lion" on their way home, uttering many curses on "that there
Gobbleall." Captain Carbonel did not hear those same curses, but as he
rode home he saw the two men stagger out of the "Blue Lion," refreshed
not only by their own pints, but by those of sympathisers. And the
sight did not make him sorry for what he had done, knowing well that
George Hewlett, Cox the cobbler, and Mrs Holly, the widow with a small
shop, were almost borne down with the rates, and not seeing why they
should toil that Billy and Nanny Barton should lounge and drink.
Billy Barton, however, did more. He joined an expedition which Dan
Hewlett was already organising with Joe Todd, as much for revenge as
profit, to have a night of poaching in Mr Selby's woods, in which there
were a number of fine pheasants, not so many as at present where
preserves are strictly kept, but poaching was more profitable in some
ways, since in those days poulterers were not allowed to sell game
openly, but gave a higher price to men who could contrive to convey it
to them, and then sold it at a great profit to pretentious people, who
had no friends to give it to them, but who wanted to show it at their
dinner-parties. Tirzah Todd, as usual, was the means of disposing of
most of these gains. Her lively ways made poulterers and servants
inclined to further her dealings.
She was a great deal too sharp to carry any save her lawful wares to
Greenhow Farm; but in the last year since the Carbonels had come,
especially since the captain had been a magistrate, the trade had been
less prosperous and required more caution. Once Captain Carbonel had
found a wire for a hare in his hedge, and had made it known that he
should prosecute any one whom he caught out. He was no eager sportsman
himself, but he had a respect for the law.
The poachers arranged a raid upon the Selby woods, in which Joe Todd,
Dan Hewlett, and Billy Barton all took part. The first of these was too
sharp to be caught by the keepers. He had all the litheness and cunning
of his gipsy blood, and was actually safe in the branches of a tree
overhead, while Dan, having put his foot into a rabbit-hole, was seized
by one keeper, with his gun and a bag of spoil, and Billy Barton, in his
bewilderment, ran straight into the arms of another, with a pheasant's
tail poking up his short smock-frock as it stuck out of his pocket.
Of course Mr Selby could not commit for an offence against himself, so
Hewlett and Barton were hauled off to Captain Carbonel, while their
wives begged to see madam, and they were conducted to the verandah, for
the justice business was going on in the large kitchen. No doubt they
expected, though Nanny had read no novels, that the magistrate would sit
enthroned in the most public place in the house, that the women would
weep, that the ladies, with softened hearts, would throw themselves
before him, like Queen Philippa at Calais, and beg off the victims. Of
what could, should, or ought to be done, they had no notion; and of
course they were both in terrible distress, Nanny crying passionately
into her apron, and protesting--whenever she could get voice between her
sobs, that if the good lady would get the good gentleman to forgive him
this time--he would never, never do so no more. While Molly Hewlett,
who had some remnants of old respectability about her, was trying her
utmost to induce Mrs Carbonel to intercede.
It was the first time. He was led to it. It was for sport. He had
never done it before. To be sure madam would not let 'em be hard on
poor Judith's brother. No Hewlett--no, nor any Grey--had ever been in
prison before! He was just drove to it, because that there George would
give him no work! She and her poor children would have to come to the
workhouse, and poor Judith! Nanny, too, began to cry out about her poor
children and the parish.
Meanwhile Mrs Carbonel had been trying to get in a word to make them
understand that the matter did not rest with the captain, and that he
had no choice at all in the question but to commit them to gaol to take
their trial. He had no power to let them off, and she could do nothing,
though she was sincerely sorry for the wives; but they neither heard nor
tried to hear, and as the cart was driven up by Master Pucklechurch, the
keeper, and the constable Cox, to the back door for the handcuffed
prisoners, weeping and wailing of the loudest arose, and the women
darted round to embrace their husbands, evidently expecting Mrs
Carbonel to assure them that she would charge herself with the support
of their families while they were in prison.
She was so much distressed, and so pitiful, that she was just going to
do something of the kind, but her husband's gesture stopped her. Billy
Barton howled more loudly than his wife, and, as he could not raise his
hands to his face, presented a terrible spectacle, though the captain
declared there were no tears to be seen. Dan stood grim, stolid, and
impassive, and if he spoke at all, it was in a muttered oath at the
noise his wife was making. It was a great relief when the cart was
driven off, followed by the two women, and Captain Carbonel exclaimed--
"Poor creatures! That Barton is a fool, but Mr Dan is something
worse."
"Oh, those poor women! Why would you not let me speak, Edmund, and
promise that they should not starve?"
"The parish will take care of that, Mary; you need not be afraid."
"It sounds so hard-hearted," said Dora and Sophy to each other.
But Edmund did not prevent, nor wish to prevent, their going to see
Judith, nor taking with them much more solid food than she was in the
habit of eating. Thick sandwiches and lumps of cold pudding were
likewise conveyed to the Barton children at school, so that probably
they fared much better than was their usual habit.
Judith said she was sorry that Dan should go for to do such a thing, but
she was less indignant than Dora expected, and she cried, though more
quietly than her sister, when he was sentenced to three months'
imprisonment. It was to be said for Molly Hewlett, that enough of her
old training remained about her to keep her a sober woman, but Captain
Carbonel saw Nanny Barton reeling out of the "Blue Lion" on the day of
the conviction, much the worse for the treatings she had enjoyed by way
of consolation.
If George Hewlett had any strong feelings about his brother's disaster,
he did not communicate them; he went about his work just as usual, and
whistled as much as ever. But he took Johnnie, who was only eleven
years old, into his workshop, and gave him eighteenpence a week for
doing what he could; and he turned out handy, diligent, and trustworthy,
so as to be fully worth the money, and thus to stay on when his father
came out of prison.
Dan was much the same man as when he went into gaol, save that his
hatred to Captain Carbonel had increased.