HOW I MET ONE JESSAMY TODD, A SNATCHER OF SOULS
Diogenes the sturdy pony trotted at such good pace that where the ways
were rough the Tinker's light cart creaked and lurched until the tins
wherewith it was festooned rattled and clinked and I, perched
precariously on the tailboard, legs a-swing, was fain to hold on lest
I be precipitated into the ditch, yet felt myself ridiculously happy
notwithstanding.
Thus we bumped and jingled through shady lanes and pleasant byways, I
for one, seldom speaking, content to watch tree and hedge flit by and
the ever-changing prospect beyond, though often turning to glimpse
Diana's shapely back where she sat on the driving seat beside the
Tinker; and at such times often it would happen she would glance round
also, and thus our glances would meet and as we gazed, slowly but
surely the colour would deepen in her cheek, her long lashes would
flicker and droop, and she would turn away and I full of wonder and an
infinite joy, marvelling that I could ever have thought such eyes
hard, bold and unfeminine. Thus, albeit perched so precariously on the
swaying tailboard I was none the less marvellously content.
O Diogenes of the plodding hoofs! O creaking wheels, O tinkling pots
and pans, had I but possessed the wisdom to understand your
oft-repeated message, how much of doubt, of grief and pain I might
have spared myself.
Suddenly Diana hailed and waved her hand, the Tinker checked Diogenes
in full career, and with a jingling clank the cart pulled up as a man
sprang lightly forth of the dry ditch wherein he had been sitting, a
man of no great stature but clean-limbed and shapely, despite rough
and dusty clothes,--a keen-eyed, short-nosed, square-jawed fellow
whose mouth had a humorous twist.
"Why, Jessamy," said Diana, leaning down to give him her hand, "'t is
good t' see you!"
"And so it is, lad!" nodded the Tinker. "How goeth the good work?"
"Fairish, Jeremy, fairish!" answered Jessamy, in a sweet voice
peculiarly rich and mellow. "Old Nick's a toughish customer d'ye see,
and a glutton for punishment; wind him, cross-buttock him or floor him
wi' a leveller amidships, but he'll come up smiling next round, ready
and willin' for more, an' fight back at you 'ard as ever, alas!"
Here I got down from the cart that I might better behold the speaker,
who now turned to glance at me with a pair of the kindliest blue eyes
I had ever seen.
"Jessamy," said Diana, "this is my--my friend Peregrine as do want you
to teach him the game."
"The game," repeated Jessamy, shaking his head a little ruefully, "the
game's all vanity and vexation o' spirit! Besides, your young friend
don't look cut out for the ring--"
"Lord, Jess, he don't want to be a fighter! Peregrine only wants to
know how--"
"Why, that's different," sighed the ex-pugilistic champion, "though I
ain't got the heart nor yet the time to teach any one--"
"But I want you to, Jessamy," said Diana imperiously.
"Why, that's different again, Anna, and so I don't mind showing him a
thing or two if time and opportoonity offer."
"Are ye for Tonbridge Fair, Jessamy?" enquired the Tinker.
"I am so, Jerry. I'm a-marching, comrade, wi' royals and studden-sails
set, messmate, and all for the glory o' the Lord, brother."
"Then if you'm be minded for a lift, Jessamy, there be room for ye
alongside Peregrine!" Up we mounted forthwith, the Tinker gave
Diogenes his head, and we bumped and jingled on our way.
"Pray, Mr. Todd," I gasped, as we clutched and swayed together, "may I
enquire if you have been a soldier or a sailor?"
"Both, brother," he answered, "I was a powder-boy aboard the old
_Bully-Sawyer_--a powder-monkey and sat on my tub?"
"But why on a tub?"
"In case o' sparks from the guns--broadside agin' the wind--"
"What--have you been in action?"
"For sure, brother--"
"Ah!" I exclaimed eagerly. "Tell me about it."
"I can't, brother--all as I remember is sparks and flame--the roar of
the guns--screams and cries--blood and--things as no eyes should see
and bad to think on--and me squatting on my tub amidst it all--wanting
my mother. Later on I turned soldier and didn't find that life a bed
o' roses either; to-day I'm a soldier o' the Lord ready to fight, sing
and preach to His glory, and ever ready to cheat Old Nick o' what
don't belong to him--"
"What do you mean?"
"Souls, brother. I plucks brands from the burning with j'y and gather
sheaves with gratitood. You've 'eard o' body-snatchers, I suppose?"
"I have."
"Well, I'm a soul-snatcher. I snatches 'em to the Lord whensoever and
wheresoever I can, brother."
"But surely," I demurred, "the soul, which is an abstraction, a part
of the Infinite and thus of God Himself, is therefore imperishable.
Socrates taught this, Pantheism is based on this, the arguments of the
Peripatetic Philosophers all trend to this belief, and Christ preached
the Soul's immortality and life after death. Thus, if the Soul is
immortal and cannot perish, how may it be saved?"
"By the Blood o' the Lamb, brother; otherwise ye shall be cast into
outer darkness to weep and gnash."
"But why?"
"For sins, committed in the flesh and unrepented."
"Supposing a man sins daily for threescore years and ten and dies
unrepentant, must he go down to hell and be tormented for ever and
ever for so short a time of sinning?"
"He must, brother, alas!"
"Horrible!" I cried. "Horrible, and most unjust."
"Why, it do seem a bit 'ard to the likes o' we, brother, but then we
only see as through a glass darkly. God is a just God, a jealous God
and a God o' Vengeance; 't is in the Book--"
"Then this is not Christ's Heavenly Father, but Jehovah, the
blood-spattered deity of the Jews, a God of battles, of sacrifices and
death, a God pitiless and without mercy. But man's soul, being
conceived of the Infinite Mind, may never utterly perish even though
corrupt with sin or debased by ignorance, for even then that divine
Spark which is the very life of the soul shall sooner or later grow to
a flame, burning up the evil, lighting the gloom of ignorance until in
course of time, years, ages, or aeons, the soul purified and perfected
shall win back to the God whence it came!"
For a full minute after I had ended Jessamy Todd was silent, staring
from me to the cloudless sky and back again with a look of growing
perplexity; at length he spoke:
"You've seen better days, brother, I'm thinking."
"No, indeed," I answered, "never so good as these."
"I'm likewise thinkin' as your speech and talk don't rightly match
your rig-out, brother."
"Which, on the whole, is just as well," I answered.
"And you've read and learned a lot from books, brother."
"But you have read a better book, friend Todd, and much more of it."
"Ah, you mean this, brother?" said he, taking out a small, well-worn
Bible.
"I mean the Book of Life," I answered; "you have lived while I have
only dreamed, so far."
"Why, to be sure, I've seen a good deal o' life and something o'
death, one way or another. I've known friendship and loneliness,
plenty and poverty, been hooted and cheered and had a prince shake my
fist--"
"What for?"
"'T was arter I'd beat the Chelsea Snob, him as licked the Bristol
Slasher; they thought the Snob would eat me but--ah, well these were
days o' vanity, brother, and no grace about me--no, not a ha'porth."
"Please tell me of it."
"Well, I was fighting for Sir Jervas then, him they call 'The
Firebrand'--"
"Do you mean Sir Jervas Vereker?"
"Aye, I do--one o' the bang-up nobs, a tip o' the tippies, but the
best sportsman and truest friend ever man fought for--"
"Good!" quoth I.
"D'ye happen to know him, brother?" enquired Jessamy, with another
look of mild surprise.
"I begin to think I do not," I answered. "Pray, why is he called 'The
Firebrand'?"
"Because he's allus so precious cool, I reckon."
"Well, pray continue," I urged.
But at this moment we became aware of a confused uproar, a ribaldry of
laughter and shouting. Round I started, to see we were approaching a
small inn, with a sign bearing the legend "The Ring o' Bells," before
which inn stood a number of vehicles and a rough crowd of merrymakers
who danced and sang and flourished ale-pots. Beholding this unholy
company, my alarm grew, for it seemed their vociferations were
directed at us.
"Pull up, Tinker--pull up and drink wi' us!" roared one.
"Aye--a drink, a drink, come down an' drink!" cried another.
"And bring the gal along wi' ye!" cried a third.
Suddenly, seeing Jeremy heeded them no whit, a big, swaggering fellow
stepped forward, a flashily dressed herculean figure in tops and
cords, his high-collared, brass-buttoned coat moulding a mighty chest
and spread of shoulder; which formidable person now advanced upon us
flourishing a quart pot and with divers of the riotous company at his
heels. No honest, sun-burned rustics these, but pallid, narrow-eyed
folk whose half-furtive, half-hectoring air gave me a sense of evil
streets, of dark alleys and dens where iniquity lurked, and my alarm
and abhorrence waxed acute, finding vent in words:
"What vile wretches!"
"Not so, brother!" answered Jessamy, viewing them with his kindly eyes
where they had halted across the road, barring our advance. "No,
brother, these are all souls to be snatched to the Lord, one way or t'
other, brands to be plucked from the--"
"Pull up, Tinker!" roared the big fellow threateningly. "You've got a
lass there as I likes the looks on; pull up, d'ye hear! Look at the
shape of 'er!" quoth he, pointing out Diana to his companions. "A tidy
piece--eh, my bucks an' pippins?"
Here rose an answering chorus of laughing profanity and worse, amongst
which I caught the words, "Pretty filly!" "A dainty tit!" "A kiss all
round, Tom! Share an' share, Tom!" "Oho, Tinker, pull an' be damned t'
ye!"
Instead of complying, Jeremy touched the pony to faster pace and with
a jingling clash of tinware we bore down upon this lewd-tongued
company which, howling obscenity, scattered promptly right and
left--all except the big man Tom who, with a dexterous leap, caught
the rein, jerking and wrenching at the bit with hand so cruelly strong
that the poor animal reared up, snorting with fright and pain and the
cart came to a lurching standstill.
"Didn't ye hear me tell ye to pull up?" demanded the man Tom,
scowling. "When I says a thing, I means it. And now, first of all I
wants a kiss from the gal an' then--"
"Stand off, ye vermin!" quoth Jeremy and, reaching down beneath the
seat, whipped out a long-barrelled pistol and levelled it full into
Tom's big, evil face, whereupon my trembling hand loosed the saucepan
I had clutched as a weapon and I stared from the tense features of the
two men to the calm, coldly contemptuous face of Diana. Then spake
Jessamy Todd:
"All right, Jerry! Put up your barker; here's where I climb into the
ring for a round wi' Old Nick," and taking off his frayed hat he sent
it spinning through the air to the big man's feet, who promptly kicked
it into the ditch.
"Open your trap an' I'll serve ye the same!" snarled the fellow.
"Good!" answered Jessamy cheerily, and alighting from the cart he
walked slowly towards the speaker, viewing the big man over with
kindly eyes, though his square chin jutted somewhat.
"Friends and brothers," quoth he, throwing out his arms, "I'm a man o'
peace as cometh afore you wi' peace in his heart and the Word o' the
Lord upon his tongue--" Now at this, some laughed, some cursed
blasphemously, and one began a song so unspeakably vile that my ears
tingled, and hot with shame I stole a glance at Diana, who sat
watching Jessamy's good-tempered face, calmly serene and apparently
utterly unconscious.
"And I love ye, friends and brothers," continued Jessamy, "because you
be all tabernacles o' the Lord, 'spite o' your beastly ways, and
formed in His image, for all your ugly mugs. Why therefore will ye
desecrate the tabernacle and debase His image--"
The cheery, musical voice was drowned by shouts and obscene
objurgations, while the big fellow, seeing the Tinker had laid by his
pistol, clenched brawny fists, shot out brutal jaw and glared at
Jessamy in murderous fashion, whereupon the excited crowd, swollen now
considerably, hooted and clamoured, pushed and jostled all about us in
a very threatening manner, so that my hand instinctively clenched
itself on the saucepan again and I crept nearer to Diana.
"Set about 'im, Tom! Ah, break 'is nob, lad!" bellowed the swaying
crowd. "Show 'im 'ow you laid out the 'North-country Collier,' Tom.
Knock out 'is ivories--choke 'im wi' your famble!"
"Hark 'ee, friend Tom," said Jessamy, apparently quite unmoved by the
growing hostility of the rabble, "I love ye, Tom! And I love ye, first
because you're a child o' God, though to be sure ye don't look it,
Tom!" Here Tom unbuttoned and tossed aside his tight-fitting coat.
"And secondly," pursued Jessamy, "I love ye because somewhere inside
o' ye you've got an immortal soul--of a kind, Tom, that the Lord
holdeth precious and beyond rubies--though only the Lord knoweth why,
Tom." Here the big man tightened his belt and proceeded to roll up his
sleeves. "Therefore, Tom," continued Jessamy, watching these
preparations with kindly interest, "therefore, 't is your soul as I'm
after and the souls of all these pals o' yours--these poor lost lambs
as look so uncommonly like wolves, Tom. Howbeit--"
Uttering a scornful oath, Tom snatched an ale mug from one near by and
dashed its contents into Jessamy's face, whereupon rose a yell of
fierce laughter and acclaim.
"And now, Tom lad," sighed Jessamy, his blue eyes mild as ever, while
the liquid dripped from the great jut of his chin, "now, dear friend,
let's you an' me pray together!" Then, lifting his face to the
cloudless sky, Jessamy began thus, while Tom and his fellows stared
mute with amazement or perhaps awed by something in that shapely,
patient, yet grimly alert figure:
"O Lord who looketh into all hearts and in every heart can find
something good among the evil--aye, Lord, even in this Tom's heart,
since he is child o' Thine--grant that I, Thy humble instrument, may
rouse the good within Thy Tom's heart one way or t' other, either by
reason and gentleness or force and--"
I uttered a gasping, inarticulate cry of warning but in that instant
Jessamy moved his head an inch or so and the heavy pewter tankard that
should have brained him flew harmlessly by and rolled clattering a
good twenty paces behind him.
"Ah, Peregrine," said Diana in sighing whisper, "O Peregrine--watch
Jessamy--watch!" And as she spoke the big fellow rushed. On he came,
head lowered, mighty fists whirling, to butt and smite, but Jessamy
moved also, slightly, but enough, and as his terrible assailant
blundered past, smote him lightly on the crown with open palm.
"Lord, Tom lad," he admonished in his clear, ringing tones, "that's a
fool's way to set about harming your brother. Give over, Tom, give
over and let's pray instead." Uttering a furious oath, Tom swung about
and smote fiercely with right and left. But ducking the blows, Jessamy
slipped nimbly aside, shaking his head in mild reproof.
"Come, come, Tom," said he; "can't ye see you're as harmless as a
bleatin' lamb or cooin' dove? I've no wish to hurt ye, so let's ha'
done and get on with our prayers--"
"Fight!" roared Tom, beside himself with fury. "Stand up an' fight,
you--" and here followed a torrent of foulest invective and abuse.
"So be it!" said Jessamy. "Though I warned ye, and Lord knows I've
been patient. But if ye will, ye will, so, being a man o' peace, I'll
finish ye comfortable and quick--come on, my poor lad!"
Tom came; with a rush that it seemed nothing might withstand, he
hurled himself upon that quiet figure, mighty shoulders hunched, huge
body quivering, eager for the fray; ensued a quick, brief trample of
feet, the swift play of merciless arms, of mighty fists that smote the
air, and then I saw the upward flash of Jessamy's left, heard the
impact of a dreadful blow, and as Tom's head and shoulders jerked
violently up, I saw the flash of Jessamy's right and the great body of
his assailant, rocked and shaken by these two unerring, terrible
blows, shrank horribly upon itself, rolled a limp and twisted heap in
the dust, and lay still, with Jessamy poised above him, his kindly
features transfigured with a wild and terrible joy. For a long,
breathless moment Jessamy stood thus above the great, huddled form of
his insensible antagonist, and for that moment no one moved, it
seemed, and never a word spoken; then Jessamy sighed, shook his head,
clasped his hands and looking up to heaven, prayed thus, none daring
to interrupt:
"Lord, seeing force and conflict was needful, let it not be in vain
but forgive, I beseech Thee, my unholy joy therein. As Thy servant's
fist smote this Thy son's flesh, so may Thy Truth smite his heart and
he come to Thy grace thereby!"
This supplication ended, he turned to a pale-faced, gaping individual
who stood near by, a slopping tankard grasped in nerveless hand.
"Friend," says Jessamy, "I'll trouble you for your ale." The man gave
it eagerly:
"Lord, sir," said he, grinning ingratiatingly, "you did Tom up in
proper style and no mistake." Stern-faced, Jessamy turned, and,
stooping above his prostrate and still unconscious antagonist, dashed
the ale into his bloody face, whereupon Tom groaned and stirred
feebly.
"Ale be good stuff--sometimes, took externally, which is a Latin word
meaning not in the stomach!" said Jessamy, and setting an arm beneath
Tom's battered head, lifted him to a sitting posture. "How are ye now,
Tom?" he enquired.
"Bad, damned bad!" groaned Tom. "To hit a man--wi' a brick--ain't the
Christian way to fight; it ain't Johnny Bull."
"Here's your brick, friend Tom," said Jessamy, showing his brawny
fist.
"Why, then--who--who are ye?" stammered Tom.
"I'm Jessamy Todd, preacher, man o' peace--and your friend, if you'll
ha' me, Tom."
"Jessamy--Jessamy Todd? You? O Lord, I'm bit! Jessamy Todd--why, then,
no wonder."
And now the crowd caught up the name, speeding it from lip to lip.
"Jessamy Todd! It be Jessamy Todd!"
"Can ye walk, friend Tom?"
"I think so."
"Then up wi' you and along o' me into the 'Ring o' Bells'; I'll soon
make ye comfortable, an' then you an' me will pray together, shall us,
friend?"
"As ye will!" mumbled Tom. So, having aided his late antagonist to
rise, Jessamy turned to nod and smile at us.
"Drive on, brothers," said he, "I must bide here awhile on the Lord's
business, so drive on. I'll look for ye at the fair."
My stiffened fingers loosed the saucepan handle, for now all about us
were faces that smiled and nodded cheerily, and as we jingled on our
way again, the fickle crowd, their animosity quite forgotten, saluted
us with ringing cheer.