And a strange place it was, this Norman Cross, and, at the time of which
I am speaking, a sad cross to many a Norman, being what was then styled a
French prison, that is, a receptacle for captives made in the French war.
It consisted, if I remember right, of some five or six casernes, very
long, and immensely high; each standing isolated from the rest, upon a
spot of ground which might average ten acres, and which was fenced round
with lofty palisades, the whole being compassed about by a towering wall,
beneath which, at intervals, on both sides sentinels were stationed,
whilst, outside, upon the field, stood commodious wooden barracks,
capable of containing two regiments of infantry, intended to serve as
guards upon the captives. Such was the station or prison at Norman
Cross, where some six thousand French and other foreigners, followers of
the grand Corsican, were now immured.
What a strange appearance had those mighty casernes, with their blank
blind walls, without windows or grating, and their slanting roofs, out of
which, through orifices where the tiles had been removed, would be
protruded dozens of grim heads, feasting their prison-sick eyes on the
wide expanse of country unfolded from that airy height. Ah! there was
much misery in those casernes; and from those roofs, doubtless, many a
wistful look was turned in the direction of lovely France. Much had the
poor inmates to endure, and much to complain of, to the disgrace of
England be it said--of England, in general so kind and bountiful. Rations
of carrion meat, and bread from which I have seen the very hounds
occasionally turn away, were unworthy entertainment even for the most
ruffian enemy, when helpless and a captive; and such, alas! was the fare
in those casernes. And then, those visits, or rather ruthless inroads,
called in the slang of the place {23} "straw-plait hunts," when, in
pursuit of a contraband article, which the prisoners, in order to procure
themselves a few of the necessaries and comforts of existence, were in
the habit of making, red-coated battalions were marched into the prisons,
who, with the bayonet's point, carried havoc and ruin into every poor
convenience which ingenious wretchedness had been endeavouring to raise
around it; and then the triumphant exit with the miserable booty; and,
worst of all, the accursed bonfire, on the barrack parade, of the plait
contraband, beneath the view of the glaring eyeballs from those lofty
roofs, amidst the hurrahs of the troops, frequently drowned in the curses
poured down from above like a tempest-shower, or in the terrific
war-whoop of "_Vive l'Empereur_!"
It was midsummer when we arrived at this place, and the weather, which
had for a long time been wet and gloomy, now became bright and glorious.
I was subjected to but little control, and passed my time pleasantly
enough, principally in wandering about the neighbouring country. It was
flat and somewhat fenny, a district more of pasture than agriculture, and
not very thickly inhabited. I soon became well acquainted with it. At
the distance of two miles from the station was a large lake, styled in
the dialect of the country a "mere," about whose borders tall reeds were
growing in abundance. This was a frequent haunt of mine; but my
favourite place of resort was a wild sequestered spot at a somewhat
greater distance. Here, surrounded with woods, and thick groves, was the
seat of some ancient family, deserted by the proprietor, and only
inhabited by a rustic servant or two. A place more solitary and wild
could scarcely be imagined; the garden and walks were overgrown with
weeds and briars, and the unpruned woods were so tankled as to be almost
impervious. About this domain I would wander till overtaken by fatigue,
and then I would sit down with my back against some beech, elm or stately
alder tree, and, taking out my book, would pass hours in a state of
unmixed enjoyment, my eyes now fixed on the wondrous pages, now glancing
at the sylvan scene around; and sometimes I would drop the book and
listen to the voice of the rooks and wild pigeons, and not unfrequently
to the croaking of multitudes of frogs from the neighbouring swamps and
fens.
In going to and from this place I frequently passed a tall, elderly
individual, dressed in rather a quaint fashion, with a skin cap on his
head and stout gaiters on his legs; on his shoulders hung a moderate
sized leathern sack; he seemed fond of loitering near sunny banks, and of
groping amidst furze and low scrubby bramble bushes, of which there were
plenty in the neighbourhood of Norman Cross. Once I saw him standing in
the middle of a dusty road, looking intently at a large mark which seemed
to have been drawn across it, as if by a walking-stick. "He must have
been a large one," the old man muttered half to himself, "or he would not
have left such a trail, I wonder if he is near; he seems to have moved
this way." He then went behind some bushes which grew on the right side
of the road, and appeared to be in quest of something, moving behind the
bushes with his head downwards, and occasionally striking their roots
with his foot. At length he exclaimed, "Here he is!" and forthwith I saw
him dart amongst the bushes. There was a kind of scuffling noise, the
rustling of branches, and the crackling of dry sticks. "I have him!"
said the man at last; "I have got him!" and presently he made his
appearance about twenty yards down the road, holding a large viper in his
hand. "What do you think of that, my boy?" said he, as I went up to him;
"what do you think of catching such a thing as that with the naked hand?"
"What do I think?" said I. "Why, that I could do as much myself." "You
do," said the man, "do you? Lord! how the young people in these days are
given to conceit; it did not use to be so in my time; when I was a child,
childer knew how to behave themselves; but the childer of these days are
full of conceit, full of froth, like the mouth of this viper"; and with
his forefinger and thumb he squeezed a considerable quantity of foam from
the jaws of the viper down upon the road. "The childer of these days are
a generation of--God forgive me, what was I about to say!" said the old
man; and opening his bag he thrust the reptile into it, which appeared
far from empty. I passed on. As I was returning, towards the evening, I
overtook the old man, who was wending in the same direction.
"Good-evening to you, sir," said I, taking off a cap which I wore on my
head. "Good-evening," said the old man; and then, looking at me, "How's
this?" said he, "you ar'n't, sure, the child I met in the morning?"
"Yes," said I, "I am; what makes you doubt it?" "Why, you were then all
froth and conceit," said the old man, "and now you take off your cap to
me." "I beg your pardon," said I, "if I was frothy and conceited; it ill
becomes a child like me to be so." "That's true, dear," said the old
man; "well, as you have begged my pardon, I truly forgive you." "Thank
you," said I; "have you caught any more of those things?" "Only four or
five," said the old man; "they are getting scarce, though this used to be
a great neighbourhood for them." "And what do you do with them?" said I;
"do you carry them home and play with them!" "I sometimes play with one
or two that I tame," said the old man; "but I hunt them mostly for the
fat which they contain, out of which I make unguents which are good for
various sore troubles, especially for the rheumatism." "And do you get
your living by hunting these creatures?" I demanded. "Not altogether,"
said the old man; "besides being a viper-hunter, I am what they call a
herbalist, one who knows the virtue of particular herbs; I gather them at
the proper season, to make medicines with for the sick." "And do you
live in the neighbourhood?" I demanded. "You seem very fond of asking
questions, child. No, I do not live in this neighbourhood in particular,
I travel about; I have not been in this neighbourhood till lately for
some years."
From this time the old man and myself formed an acquaintance; I often
accompanied him in his wanderings about the neighbourhood, and on two or
three occasions assisted him in catching the reptiles which he hunted. He
generally carried a viper with him which he had made quite tame, and from
which he had extracted the poisonous fangs; it would dance and perform
various kinds of tricks. He was fond of telling me anecdotes connected
with his adventures with the reptile species. "But," said he one day,
sighing, "I must shortly give up this business, I am no longer the man I
was, I am become timid, and when a person is timid in viper-hunting he
had better leave off, as it is quite clear his virtue is leaving him. I
got a fright some years ago, which I am quite sure I shall never get the
better of; my hand has been shaky more or less ever since." "What
frightened you?" said I. "I had better not tell you," said the old man,
"or you may be frightened too, lose your virtue, and be no longer good
for the business." "I don't care," said I; "I don't intend to follow the
business; I dare say I shall be an officer, like my father." "Well,"
said the old man, "I once saw the king of the vipers, and since then--"
"The king of the vipers!" said I, interrupting him; "have the vipers a
king?" "As sure as we have," said the old man, "as sure as we have King
George to rule over us, have these reptiles a king to rule over them."
"And where did you see him?" said I. "I will tell you," said the old
man, "though I don't like talking about the matter. It may be about
seven years ago that I happened to be far down yonder to the west, on the
other side of England, nearly two hundred miles from here, following my
business. It was a very sultry day, I remember, and I had been out
several hours catching creatures. It might be about three o'clock in the
afternoon, when I found myself on some heathy land near the sea, on the
ridge of a hill, the side of which, nearly as far down as the sea, was
heath; but on the top there was arable ground, which had been planted,
and from which the harvest had been gathered--oats or barley, I know not
which--but I remember that the ground was covered with stubble. Well,
about three o'clock, as I told you before, what with the heat of the day
and from having walked about for hours in a lazy way, I felt very tired;
so I determined to have a sleep, and I laid myself down, my head just on
the ridge of the hill, towards the field, and my body over the side down
amongst the heath; my bag, which was nearly filled with creatures, lay at
a little distance from my face; the creatures were struggling in it, I
remember, and I thought to myself, how much more comfortably off I was
than they; I was taking my ease on the nice open hill, cooled with the
breezes, whilst they were in the nasty close bag, coiling about one
another, and breaking their very hearts, all to no purpose; and I felt
quite comfortable and happy in the thought, and little by little closed
my eyes, and fell into the sweetest snooze that ever I was in in all my
life; and there I lay over the hill's side, with my head half in the
field, I don't know how long, all dead asleep. At last it seemed to me
that I heard a noise in my sleep, something like a thing moving, very
faint, however, far away; then it died, and then it came again upon my
ear as I slept, and now it appeared almost as if I heard crackle,
crackle; then it died again, or I became yet more dead asleep than
before, I know not which, but I certainly lay some time without hearing
it. All of a sudden I became awake, and there was I, on the ridge of the
hill, with my cheek on the ground towards the stubble, with a noise in my
ear like that of something moving towards me, amongst the stubble of the
field; well, I lay a moment or two listening to the noise, and then I
became frightened, for I did not like the noise at all, it sounded so
odd; so I rolled myself on my belly, and looked towards the stubble.
Mercy upon us! there was a huge snake, or rather a dreadful viper, for it
was all yellow and gold, moving towards me, bearing its head about a foot
and a half above the ground, the dry stubble crackling beneath its
outrageous belly. It might be about five yards off when I first saw it,
making straight towards me, child, as if it would devour me. I lay quite
still, for I was stupefied with horror, whilst the creature came still
nearer; and now it was nearly upon me, when it suddenly drew back a
little, and then--what do you think?--it lifted its head and chest high
in the air, and high over my face as I looked up, flickering at me with
its tongue as if it would fly at my face. Child, what I felt at that
moment I can scarcely say, but it was a sufficient punishment for all the
sins I ever committed; and there we two were, I looking up at the viper,
and the viper looking down upon me, flickering at me with its tongue. It
was only the kindness of God that saved me: all at once there was a loud
noise, the report of a gun, for a fowler was shooting at a covey of
birds, a little way off in the stubble. Whereupon the viper sunk its
head, and immediately made off over the ridge of the hill, down in the
direction of the sea. As it passed by me, however--and it passed close
by me--it hesitated a moment, as if it was doubtful whether it should not
seize me; it did not, however, but made off down the hill. It has often
struck me that he was angry with me, and came upon me unawares for
presuming to meddle with his people, as I have always been in the habit
of doing."
"But," said I, "how do you know that it was the king of the vipers?"
"How do I know?" said the old man, "who else should it be? There was as
much difference between it and other reptiles as between King George and
other people."
"Is King George, then, different from other people?" I demanded.
"Of course," said the old man; "I have never seen him myself, but I have
heard people say that he is a ten times greater man than other folks;
indeed, it stands to reason that he must be different from the rest, else
people would not be so eager to see him. Do you think, child, that
people would be fools enough to run a matter of twenty or thirty miles to
see the king, provided King George--"
"Haven't the French a king?" I demanded.
"Yes," said the old man, "or something much the same, and a queer one he
is; not quite so big as King George, they say, but quite as terrible a
fellow. What of him?"
"Suppose he should come to Norman Cross!"
"What should he do at Norman Cross, child?"
"Why, you were talking about the vipers in your bag breaking their
hearts, and so on, and their king coming to help them. Now, suppose the
French king should hear of his people being in trouble at Norman Cross,
and--"
"He can't come, child," said the old man, rubbing his hands, "the water
lies between. The French don't like the water; neither vipers nor
Frenchmen take kindly to the water, child."
When the old man left the country, which he did a few days after the
conversation which I have just related, he left me the reptile which he
had tamed and rendered quite harmless by removing the fangs. I was in
the habit of feeding it with milk, and frequently carried it abroad with
me in my walks.